Technicalities

by LeftoverParadox

Chapter 10: Epilogue - part 2

“I find it hard to tell… did that go well?” Fenris asked as soon as they had a door between them and the outside world. Goren had graciously extended them a pair of rooms in Starkhaven castle, at behest of Ackles and Blair Sebastian suspected, the councillors surely wanting to get a better measure of this new player in their game. He had been asked to dinner as well, and though Fenris had failed to receive an invitation, Sebastian thought this might well be for the best, as the meal was likely to be more akin to the dwarven proving grounds than a welcome home feast. Sebastian had arranged for food to be brought to Fenris, and sat in Fenris’s chambers, readying himself for the scrutiny that would surely ensue during the meal.

“Perfectly.” Sebastian replied. He was feeling pleased with how things had went, the market place already abuzz with talk of the return of the prince. He had not even had to use Fenris, and could hold back the elf’s place in his plans for another time. Goren was everything he’d suspected however, more a puppet than a man, and he knew he would have to be mindful of the councillors.

Fenris looked doubtful. “You made an enemy of Ackles.” He stated.

“Intentionally.”

Fenris’s doubt manifested into a frown, and Sebastian checked the door was thick enough to speak freely.

“He’ll seek to destroy me.”

“And exactly how is that a good thing?”

“Because hatred is easily manipulated. You’ll see.”

Fenris was about to demand further elaboration, when elf servant knocked on their door and informed them dinner would be served shortly. Sebastian nodded, and told Fenris they would meet in the morning.

Sebastian had changed from his armour, and wore a simple tunic bought from the marketplace that day, and comfortable beeches, and took no weapon. He knew he’d judged the situation correctly, when he entered the dining hall to see each councillor dressed in their finest, Blair adorned in war medals, councillor Ackles in a large fur with gold highlights and an even thicker gold chain than before. Goren even wore a circlet, and Sebastian met each with a respectful bow, and sat down, holding his head high and smoothing his plain clothing.

“Ah, Sebastian, you might have said you did not have adequate clothing, I’d have had some sent to your room.”

Sebastian looked to Ser Yegor, who held the position of diplomacy councillor, and held his eyes, refusing to be intimidated.

“I was told this was a dinner with my cousin and his consort. Are my clothes unsuitable for the occasion?” he challenged, and smiled. Yegor shifted in his seat, seeing that indeed, it seemed rather odd that each man save for Sebastian was dressed as if for some grand ceremony. He said nothing, taking in how easily Sebastian sat, looking perfectly at ease, and as the first course was brought in. In comparison, the councillors, and even the ruler of Starkhaven, looked just a little ridiculous.

Dinner continued in much the same vein, the councillors taking turns with semi-veiled attempts to make Sebastian seem foolish, or jibes at his colourful past. All these, Sebastian handled with a smile, and referenced frequently the goodness of Elthina, and the Maker’s guiding light. Sebastian kept his every outward movement respectful, and his voice calm and level, so that the councillors could not even declare him impudent, or insane.

It was Blair who first lost his patience with the smooth way Sebastian deflected all insults and turned to the prince, rubbing a finger against his chin.

“I hear you are an accomplished archer these days…”

“I have some skill with a bow.” Sebastian replied, after finishing his mouthful of the main course, stewed beef.

“A shame then, that you were not there to protect your family. Mayhap your arrows might have saved them.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, but his reply came easily to him. He had blamed himself after the murder of his family, made the very same accusations of himself, that if only he had been home, he might have been able to do something other than survive his brothers, and mother, and father.

“The Maker saw fit that I was in Kirkwall at the time, and then He did deliver to me the perpetrators, that I might use my arrows against them. While I wish I could have been with my family in the end, if I had not been in Kirkwall, I would never have found the truth of the people behind their murder.”

Sebastian let his words hang in the air, and watched to see who would react. Blair, his jaw tightening as he realised Sebastian knew that Lady Harimann had hand in the Vael family massacre, and the other councillor, Kolin, coughed as he appeared to have difficulty swallowing down a piece of beef.

Ackles thought, did not seem to recognise the meaning behind Sebastian’s statement, Interesting, Sebastian thought, and could almost believe that Ackles knew nothing of the Harimann’s and their treachery. Goren too, seemed oblivious that the throne under him had been bought in blood. Sebastian had not meant to bring up Harimann at all, as far as he was concerned the damage was done and the demon at the root of the problem dealt with. He could try and oust the more crooked of the councillors, but though he had blood on his side, his word against a whole council was a battle he knew he would be hard pressed to win.

But he didn’t need to win the battle, when only the war mattered. He had the knowledge, and had just to trust that the councillors would seek to appease him, so that he would keep their dark secrets. Already, there was a letter detailing all he knew, sealed and signed, in a vault in the Starkhaven bank, with a note that it was only to be opened should Sebastian fail to return each season.

Blair puffed up in his chair, and Kolin looked positively terrified. He would let Kolin know of the letter, to ensure the frightened man did not interfere, but Blair would likely not be scared into submission so easily. Sebastian flashed a smile, and turned to the remaining councillors, and waited for them to make their move.

“You speak of the Maker a great deal. Are the rumours correct then, that you are sworn to the chantry?” Not Ackles, the coffer councillor had learnt his lesson, and was bidding his time, but the forth, a young gentleman who wore silks of blue and white, and had introduced himself as Yegor. He was brash, and gave the impression of being somewhat vain, and seemed to Sebastian to resemble himself of his younger days, allowed to grow up and keep the same terrible selfish habits.

“More or less.”

“I find that hard to believe, you were such a ladies man before.” Yegor spoke with disbelief, just enough to call into question Sebastian’s honesty.

“Ah. I will admit, I was something of a menace. But, well, I figured I best give the likes of yourself a turn at the fair women of Starkhaven.” The comment was not cutting, and if repeated Yegor would be hard pressed to point out the sting in the words, yet it still caused him to snap his mouth shut angrily. Something in the way Sebastian spoke, smooth, smiling, far more charming and able than Yegor could ever hope to be, and that slight inflection on each word indicating that Sebastian knew it.

And then, there it was, the triumph of the evening, as Goren, finally breaking free the councillor’s reigns, laughed at Yegor’s discomfort, and defeat.

Sebastian gave a sly wink to the man, who the councillors had ignored in their desperate bid to attack the returned prince, and leaned over conspiratorially.

“M’lord, I fear tales of some of my exploits do not make for appropriate table conversation. However, rather than speak of the pleasures I no longer indulge in, might I suggest we change the subject? I could tell you of the time I accompanied the champion of Kirkwall, as he did battle with a high dragon.”

“Really?” Goren was obviously interested, and any attempts to pry further into Sebastian’s personal life and supposed chastity were abandoned. Sebastian gave a nod, and readied himself to tell the story, placing Hawke as the hero, and himself a mere observer who happened to shoot a couple of arrows in the right direction, so as not to seem boastful.

He was at the point where Hawke had cut into the beast’s flanks with his daggers, when Blair scoffed loudly.

“Doubtful. Those things are massive, and take an army to vanquish. Most like you fought a drake, or maybe even a dragonling, fresh hatched.”

Yegor tittered, and Sebastian suspected he spent too much time around Orliasians. Kolin, still not quite recovered from learning Sebastian knew of Harimann, only managed a weak smile.

Sebastian tipped his head, and looked at Blair.

“How far apart would you say the claws of a high dragon spanned?”

“Easily the length of a man’s forearm.”

Sebastian gave a nod, and took on a tone of respect for Blair’s knowledge. “That’s actually pretty accurate.” He made to lift his tunic, then glanced at Goren, “May I?”

Neither Blair nor Ackles were quick enough to stop him, as Goren gestured for Sebastian to continue, fascinated, and Sebastian lifted his tunic to reveal the set of high dragon marks across his side. Blair might have tried to claim the marks were from some clumsy accident, or smaller monster, but he gasped aloud, seeing the pale scars and knowing how deep they must have dug. It gave the commander of the guard, clearly a man of war and battle, pause for thought, and even though he might not readily admit it, there was a shine of acknowledgement in his eyes when he next met Sebastian’s. Sebastian turned, letting the tunic drop down, “If it weren’t for Hawke I’d be a dead man. I owe much to Kirkwall’s champion. And Ser Blair, you must have a fine eye to be able to so precisely judge a beast. Have you battled much yourself?”

Blair nodded and, cautious, began a story of how he and a few others had once taken down a nest of giant spiders, expecting at any moment Sebastian to launch into an even grander tale.

But he didn’t.

Sebastian made appropriate acclamations of Blair’s bravery, and watched as the glimmer of regard grew to something more like respect. Goren, too, who apparently had not known his councillor to have such a history, looked upon Blair with great admiration, and even asked a few questions, till Blair practically shone with pride.

The meal was concluded with Goren announcing a toast to his brave commander of the guard, which Sebastian happily drank to. As he left, he could feel Ackles’s eyes burning into him, but did not let that detract from the fact that Blair bid him good evening, and very likely meant it.

As he walked back to his room, he thought to himself, One down….

***

The night was long and lonely, and so he woke early to take Fenris breakfast. His room and Fenris’s were apart, but both suitable for honoured guests. It was a fair walk from the kitchens, but Sebastian managed the tray, spilling the milk from the jug only a little. Once they were sure the door was shut, Sebastian told of his success with Blair.

“Can a man be won over so easily?”

Sebastian grinned into his milky porridge, “I can be rather charming, when I put my mind to it. And I shall send a missive to Kolin today, merely stating that a full account of my time in Kirkwall is sealed, but that I will be much too busy to reveal it, in my efforts to protect the chantry. It should be enough to dissuade him from getting in the way.”

Fenris rolled his eyes, as he prodded at a large lump with his spoon. “You play a dangerous game. I hope you know what you are doing.”

“I do. It is relatively safe, as long as there is Goren. The councils have to mind themselves around him, to keep their pet ruler blinkered. Poor sod, he doesn’t stand a chance, they all have the wool pulled twice over his eyes.”

“Hmm.”

Sebastian finished his bowl, and clicked the spoon down on the table. He could sit, and discuss with Fenris the merits of a council, rather than a solitary man to bare the responsibilities of a city-state such as Starkhaven, but it was too soon to tell whether the current councillors were as corrupt as he had feared. Starkhaven certainly did not seem to be suffering, and though he wondered how Kolin and Blair slept at night, he had the feeling that they merely seized the opportunity granted, rather than had actual hand in his family’s murder.

“Come on.” He announced, “Its time we went to see the chantry and the Templars.”

****

“I dislike the way they look at me.” Fenris hissed low, as Sebastian and the elf were led to meet the current leader of the twenty-strong Templar force.

Sebastian looked up, and saw the glint of greed in the eyes of the nearest Templar, his helmet off while addressing the not-quite prince, but his gaze drifting to take in the lyrium’d elf. He decided he did not much like such stares directed at his lover either. However, as they’d agreed before they had set out for the chantry, Fenris did need to be seen if he was later to aid the Templar in tracking down apostates, his ability to resist magics making him ideal for the task of handling stray mages.

The Templar of Starkhaven, and the mages they guarded, were something of an oddity. Starkhaven had been an independent city-state for an age, and this notion of separation had been adopted by a small group of Templar, who had not wanted to leave, even though the circle had burned down. They had elected to remain within Starkhaven’s walls, and established a system of sending pigeons back and forth from the Gallows of Kirkwall, and Val Royeaux. They were generally kept informed of events, but always treated as an isolated unit, in theory under the same rules and regiments as the other Templar, but their one stand of independence making them somewhat separate from the rest of the order. The Divine could press demands, but refrained, as it would cause all manner of political difficulties. Ordering the Templar to obey would be seen as challenging Starkhaven’s right to rule itself, the Templar viewed as having the same independence as the city itself claimed from the Free Marches.

If such loosely connected status bothered the Templar, they did not show it. Their armour shone, and the clanking of each of their steps sounded out loud in the chantry, though there was not a mage to be seen. It was not entirely surprising, to find that the mages were gathered in the small storerooms to the back of the chantry, as they did not have anyone to protest the treatment to. The mages of Starkhaven, who had had not been sent to the gallows, or who had been recently apprehended, had no contact with the other circle magi. They were kept, supposedly safe, and operated under the ruling that if they did not cast, they would not be punished. Such measures were enforced by the Templar with no exceptions, though lately, even the total ban on magic was not enough to calm the sense of rising unease of the townsfolk at having mages in Starkhaven, and petitions had been launched to send the mages away to the circle tower of Ferelden, the nearest circle still standing.

The Templar however, had the last say in the fate of the mages, and they had decided to stay. If having their circle burnt to the ground had not convinced them to leave, a few pieces of parchment were certainly not going to shift the Templar from their adopted home and risk long journey across treacherous winter seas.

The isolation from the Divine, and the mage circles, seemed to Sebastian to be both a curse and an unexpected boon. Far from the Divine’s direct guidance, the Templar may have started to stray from the path of light, however, with winter fast approaching and all travel slowed by adverse weather, it would be a while for the other circles to hear about Sebastian, and what he intended to do. By the time it would take to collect enough information and react, it would be far too late for anyone to stop him.

He smiled inwardly, and readied himself to meet Lyond, the head Templar, a man of many years’ experience, and Starkhaven born.

“Ser Vael?” The head Templar was a board shouldered man, very close cut dark hair and the shadow of a beard on his face. He looked disgruntled, probably at the proposed relocation.

“Call me Sebastian, please.”

“As you like. Care to explain, Sebastian, why we have to shift nine mages into the bowels of yonder castle, when we were minding them quite well enough right here?”

“Matter of security.” Sebastian answered, taking the seat across from Lyond’s desk, which was cluttered with papers and chewed pencils. Fenris stood behind him, no chair offered the elf, and knowing he had a warrior at his back allowed Sebastian to relax, in the face of Lyond’s obvious animosity.

The Templar Lyond, grumbled under his breath, and looked Sebastian up and down, then scowled, as if he did not like what he saw. Sebastian bore the distasteful glare, and set his hands upon the table, careful not to disrupt the parchments.

“You cannot think that it is suitable to have magi here, in the chantry, in the heart of the Maker’s house?”

“Well, there was no-where much else. Don’t worry yerself, we did clear out all the little chantry brothers and sisters, so they’d not get corrupted.”

“Where are they? They can hardly follow their calling if you’ve displaced them to the streets.”

“Don’t know, probably scattered across town. Before you get yourself any more uppity, it’s not like we had much of a choice. We had to move the mages. We were set up in a warehouse, down near the alienage, same as we’ve been for months, but after what happened in Kirkwall, some ruddy smart-arse local with a vendetta tried to burn the place down with my men inside an’ all. Got ‘em out, no harm done, but I sure wasn’t going to stay there after that. It’s the people, they’re near as bad as the blighted mages, chock full of the jitters, and I’ve had to shout down more than a few stone throwers. They don’t care if they hit a Templar to the side of the head with a poor-aimed rock, not when they have chance to strike out against a mage. Ought to place the lot of the filthy mage blighters in stocks, and let the people have their way….”

Sebastian frowned, and sat back in his seat. “No one told me you were suffering so. It’s not right, the Templar should be respected, and free to concentrate on their Maker-given task, not have to fend off the fearful. Have any of your men, or ladies, been injured?”

Lyond looked at Sebastian, and immediately, the archer could tell that it was the first time anyone had thought to ask such a question.

“All in one piece, my men, they’re strong enough.”

“I have no doubt. It is a difficult line of work, and rarely appreciated. I’ll bet it has been an age since any of you had some decent time off, or chance for proper confession, or even a nod of acknowledgment for your continued efforts to keep our city safe.”

The Templar looked at Sebastian, rapidly reassessing the archer. “Right by all counts.” He said grimily.

“Well, I cannot force the people to thank you, but I can listen to your confessions, and give you the deep dungeons. They may be a little darker, but you’ll need fewer men on the doors to guard the mages. With a bit of clever work on the rota, your men could get the rest they need, yourself included. And, you’d be away from the townsfolk.”

Lyond’s eyes widened at the idea, something altogether sinister forming in his mind. He was mid-way through a lop-sided leer, when he frowned, suddenly suspicious.

“Why? Why do all this? I hear you’re paying out your pocket for a new circle too, and no offence, but you have not been all that forthcoming about your motives or schemes.”

Sebastian bridged his hands, and looked to Fenris, then back to Lyond. “Something needs to be done about the mages. Kirkwall’s tragedy is only the start, and I would work to prevent any more harm. The Templar are of the chantry, yes? As such, you answer to the Divine. That ties your hands, binds them tight. You are not able to do the necessary, not just to handle your collection of mages for now, but to ensure that future generations need not fear the magi.” Sebastian dropped his voice, locking eyes with Lyond. “But I can.”

“There are dark days ahead,” he continued, “and Starkhaven will need to stand strong not to be consumed by the war between Templar and magi. We will need our Templar, cleansed and valiant, if we are to eliminate the mage threat.”

Lyond clicked his teeth. “Only one sure way to make a mage harmless, and that’s put a sword through their neck.” Fenris gave a small grunt of agreement, and Lyond made no move to apologise for his words.

“There is another way.” Sebastian said softly, and Lyond’s eyes widened.

“You don’t mean…”

Sebastian held up a hand, and pressed a finger to his lips meaningfully. “If you do not speak the words, they cannot incriminate you. The Templar need to be pure, need to be something the people can believe in, warriors shining with the Maker’s light. However… I am no Templar.”

Lyond looked to Sebastian, rubbing his chin. “I don’t rightly know what you are.”

Sebastian smiled thinly, “Think of me as a shield. I will protect the chantry, and the Templar. I will hold myself between what must be done and yourself, and hide from view how I shall deal with the mages. If you keep your distance, no blame can be assigned to you, or your fine men. I’ll cast the shadow, and should it come to it, I’ll take the blame. And, if you’ll let me, I will do the deeds that will save Starkhaven, and you will not have to worry about getting your hands dirty. All you have to do is your duties, as a Templar and warrior of the Maker, I shall do the rest.”

“And you say you’ll deal with the mages. Once and for all?”

“Once and for all.” Sebastian agreed.

The Templar shifted forward in his seat, and reached a hand towards Sebastian, pointing. “You’re a sneaky bastard, but you’ve got the right idea. As you say, us Templar can’t do what is needed, the Divine would still tear me a new one, probably march herself all the way from Val Royeaux, even if all I was doing was making the world a more… tranquil place.”

Sebastian winced at the poor pun, but managed to keep his composure. Lyond did not seem to notice.

“I’ll get the mages rounded up, and we’ll drag them down to the dungeons.” He said, and turned his hand so his palm was offered to Sebastian.

Sebastian took the hand and gave it a solid shake, and stood up. “I’ll want to have words with the Head Enchanter.”

Lyond snorted, “There ain’t one. This ain’t no circle.”

Sebastian frowned, “Then have the mages select a representative. When the time is right, I’ll speak with both you and whoever the mages have chosen.” He dropped his voice to a low hiss, clenching his fist, “We will start with them.”

Lyond chuckled, a dark noise, like bubbling mud. “I almost pity the poor sod.”

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, suddenly interested, “Really?”

“Naw. Not really.”

Sebastian gave a nod at that, and stood. He arranged a time where he would be available to take confession, and then led himself and Fenris out.

The chantry sisters and brothers were absent as Lyond had said, so there was no-one to speak with as Sebastian looked over chantry, taking in the familiar high walls and massive hall. No candles burned, and it saddened him to see the pews so empty, fear driving away all the faithful. It was the fault of Anders, again, the abomination’s reach stretching across the land, tainting everything. Sebastian would have to work hard, and work fast to save Starkhaven, before the revolution between Templar and mage could take root.

His meeting with Lyond had left him on edge, and he wondered how far he could trust the man obviously not used to minding his tongue. The silence held over the chantry did not grant him the peace he had hoped the sight of the great glass windows and craved stone pillars might have instilled in him. Taking one last look, he turned, and walked with Fenris back to the guest rooms, the silence following them.

***

“He was… worse than I had envisioned.” Sebastian admitted, finally, once they were back in Sebastian’s room, eating a platter of bread, fruit, meats and cheese. The Templar were supposed to be the Maker’s warriors, but between seeing the rottenness in the ranks of Kirkwall, and hearing Anders’s tales (if the abomination could be believed), it was hard to trust that every Templar could be relied upon to uphold the values of the chantry. He had hoped that far from Kirkwall’s corrupting influence, Starkhaven might still have Templars he could count on, but from the cold and cruel smirk Lyond had displayed unnerved him.

“It doesn’t change the plan though.” Fenris stated, as he took a chuck of meat and chewed it thoughtfully.

“No. No it doesn’t.” Sebastian replied, too distracted to eat much of the food in front of him. Fenris too, had surprised him, though he would never admit it to the elf. That soft noise of approval, as Lyond spoke of killing mages, should not have shocked him. Yet, Sebastian had seen Fenris, despite his past, stand by mages in battle, and even play cards with them come evenings. He’d thought that his anger had perhaps been tempered, but it was clear he still harboured great resentment for any and all magic users.

It might have been an unsavoury thought, that his friend, his lover, could hold so much hate in his heart still, but at the same time, Sebastian knew he was depending on that ruthlessness. Fenris would take all the wrongs done to him, all the pain and suffering, and use it, channel it to Sebastian’s advantage. Starkhaven’s advantage.

He got to his feet, brushing crumbs from his front and covering the cheese with a cloth so they might have the remainder for supper. There was a long day’s work ahead, shifting clean straw mattresses down to the dungeons, and supplying enough candles, lanterns and oil burners that the underground depths would not feel quite so claustrophobic for the Templar, or magi. The last thing he needed was a mage panicking and turning to blood magic.

“Are… you having second thoughts?” Fenris had caught the way Sebastian had looked at him, the way Sebastian’s face had grown tight as he realised he did not much care for Lyond, his cruelty unbefitting a warrior of the Maker. His green eyes were deep, and questioning.

Sebastian had wondered at his plan, at the sheer amount of intrigue it required, the manipulations and manoeuvring. It was not strictly following the chantry, but if Elthina had taught him anything, it was he could not live his life by the chant alone, and sometimes a man had to forge his own path.

And there was no doubt in his mind his path was a righteous one. Nearly everything the hated healer had written in his damned manifesto, Sebastian would stand against. Whereas Anders had tries to abolish the circles, Sebastian would make them strong. Instead of freedom for all magi, he’d gather the magic users, track down the apostates, and bring them to his newly formed circle.

There was a small wicked satisfaction in knowing that he was planning to undo everything Anders had worked for, unravelling the abomination’s ambitions, the brutality of the mage’s actions spurring him on. When he felt tired, or unsure, he would see in his mind that flash over Kirkwall, see the destruction of his beloved chantry. It steeled his resolved, and empowered him to continue.

He shook his head, no he did was not second guessing himself, not after coming so far already, and smiled. He was about to steal a brief kiss from Fenris when there was a knock upon his door. Sebastian got to his feet, already irritated at the interruption, and opened it to find a scantily clad lady, batting her lashes as if she had dust in her eyes.

“Maker’s breath… “He muttered, as Fenris came up behind him and looked over his shoulder. He did not have to look to know Fenris was scowling his hardest, and the lady’s eyebrows rose high in surprise at seeing a second person in the room.

“I… was sent to warm your bed…” she started, trying not to stare at Fenris.

“I do not need my bed warmed.” Sebastian’s tone was cold, tinged with annoyance.

“Do I not please you?” Her voice was strained, and not as soft and sweet as she was trying to force it to be. Seeing Sebastian look so unimpressed, and Fenris with his own trademark tight mouth narrowed eyes, Sebastian was not too surprised to see the lady’s resolve falter.

Yegor was responsible, Sebastian guessed, and nearly laughed at the ludicrousness of the situation. He was sorely tempted to set Fenris upon her, knowing the elf would be fierce and fearsome, but held back, as the poor girl did not entirely deserve the elf’s jealousy.

“My lady, thought flattered, I am afraid I must refuse.”

She looked at Fenris, and with a sly slide of her eyes back to Sebastian, whispered “I could come back later.”

“No, I shall be asleep later.”

“I would be so good for you... so very good…”

“No. I cannot say it any clearer.”

Fenris then, shifting behind him, gently pushed Sebastian out the way and took a step forward, filling the doorframe.

“Go away.”

The hiss of the words sent the lady-whore scarping off, and Sebastian shut the door, leaning heavily against the wood.

The archer rubbed his left temple, and remembered that while there was a certain pleasure to be found in the politicking games of court, at times they could be most trying. Especially when the players held little regard for the people they dragged into the game. Yegor was a fool, or desperate, or a dangerous combination of both, though if this was the best the man could come up with to mar his name, Sebastian knew he ought to be grateful.

Fenris gave a derisive snort towards the girl now gone, and laid a hand upon Sebastian’s shoulder, steading him, though the prince had no trouble with his balance.

Sebastian sighed, and looked to his room, pleasant enough, but without Fenris he could not much enjoy the lavish drapes nor soft feather bed. “The sooner we can get our own accommodation, the better. Let us go and sort out the dungeons, then we can have a look around town for a suitable house.”

“Together? It would look better… if you did it yourself.” Fenris spoke with a slow burn behind his voice, and Sebastian realised that much as he hated the idea, Fenris was right. Taking an elf to a prospective home and asking his option… it would be highly unusual, and raise questions hard to answer.

Sebastian gave a grave nod. “True.”

Fenris had been tolerant of the role required of him, to say little and follow Sebastian’s steps, warding off any notions that Sebastian was a prince defenceless, but the archer could see the silence was strangling the elf. He could not say much, for fear of upsetting the careful working of The Plan, and the brief moments where they could speak freely were increasingly hard to come by, Sebastian ever mindful that they were likely watched. It was not the same as being on the boat, when they could at least be open about their friendship, the distance they needed to maintain in Starkhaven was much more intense, and worrisome.

He had not raised the issue directly, that Fenris had fallen too quickly into the mannerisms of a bodyguard, and that even when the doors were closed, Fenris held a tension throughout his whole body, and smiled less often than he had on the boat and barge. Sebastian could see the trap, that Fenris might slip into his old habits, losing that bright edge to his wit, losing his will to speak out should he disagree. To begin to think himself as nothing but a bodyguard, instead of Sebastian’s partner.

Though he liked knowing Fenris was near, time apart might be just the thing for Fenris to rekindle himself, remember his own strength and that while in public he had to follow Sebastian’s lead, out of sight he was equal, and very much valued.

“Rather than traipsing around in a dark and dank dungeon, you could… visit the city.” Sebastian suggested, his tone light, flippant, “You’ve not had the chance yet, and things are likely to get very hectic soon. Starkhaven has many taverns, stalls… the farmers’ market ought to still be running, and they sell all sorts there, cheeses, honey, breads. Or there is the forest, if you wish to walk, or take your sword for practice.”

Fenris considered, and then tipped his head to the side, “I more could do with practice with the accent. I think I shall go find a tavern and listen.”

Sebastian smiled, remember Fenris’s difficulty with Todd and the Starkhaven nuances of speech. He nodded, thinking it was actually a fairly sensible way of spending his time.

“If... you wanted, while out, you could mention that we plan to do something about the magi. Gage the people’s reactions, it could be worthwhile to find out how hard we are going to have to fight to change things, or if the people want a more permanent solution. Feel free to mention that we both have a number of blood mage kills under our belts, ought to be good for a drink on the house.”

Fenris gave a nod, and checked his coin pouch. Sebastian had divided the money gained from the candlesticks between them equally, and watched as Fenris transferred a few coin from a pouch on the inside of his armour to a more readily available location, keeping the majority hidden. Sebastian was doing the same, the safest place by far was to have his money was on his person, but his day to day pouch held but a fraction of the coin, the rest tucked away from view.

“Very well. I shall meet you back here, come evening?” Fenris said, straightening his armour. Whilst it might not be the most typical of tavern-wear, it would certainly serve to give any would be thugs pause for thought before causing Fenris any form of trouble.

Sebastian nodded, and, before opening the door and resuming their distance, moved and planted a tender kiss to Fenris’s lips. The sharp spike of want that coursed through him, making it difficult to pull away, drove him to resolve to hurry and find them private residence, away from the councillors and their spies.

****
Sebastian took a pair of Templar with him to the dungeons, and though the men to begin with were tight-lipped, on seeing Sebastian haul his share of the mattresses down the twisting stairs, and calling a rest when he saw either of them struggle with the weight of the lumps of straw, heavy and cumbersome, they soon started to chat while they each caught their breath.

The first thing they asked, once Sebastian had pulled a large skein of ale to help with the work, was what it had been like, being in Kirkwall when the abomination Anders had struck.

He had looked at the ground, and then clenched a hand, remembering the flood of emotions, and then, the deadness that had followed, as if his rage had burned away everything else. He sighed, and lifted his head to the men, “Honestly, it felt like he’d cut into my chest. Watching the fires, hearing the screams… I had not known a man could be capable of such evil.”

“Ah, but he weren’t a man, was he? He was a mage.”

“Indeed.” Sebastian said grimly. “How are the mages here reacting to the news?”

“They are nervous, twitchy. One did try and make a run for it, must have figured that the times of tolerating magi were near done. Lyond caught him though, and broke a leg. Won’t be doing much running now.” The Templar smirked, and the other looked just a little unsettled. He licked his lips, and again, before he finally turned to Sebastian.

“My Laird… after we get the mages to the dungeons… what next? You’re building a circle, right enough, but it’ll be months before anything is ready. And Lyond, he says you’re going to sort the mages out good… What… what are you going to do?”

Sebastian looked the younger Templar in the eye, “Anders the apostate destroyed a chantry, killing innocent people, good people, in the process. He claimed it was for the benefit of all mages, so I feel all magi should bare the repercussions of his actions. Rest assured, the mages will get what they deserve.”

The younger Templar looked like he might say something, possibly protest, while the other smirked wider, seeing the colder than dungeon stone look in Sebastian’s eyes. Sebastian made careful note of the younger’s face, a man who would speak out against him, a man he would have to keep an eye on. Then he got to his feet, brushing the grime from his heavy workclothes, his armour having been unsuitable for such hard labour.

He got a name to go with the face; Ron, as they finished supplying the dingy dungeons with enough bedding for off-duty Templar and mages, and made sure the worst of the mould and filth had been swept from the floors. By the end, all three were dirt-streaked, and weary, but the dungeons were at least liveable. Sebastian had some incense lit to hide the staleness to the air, and the torches on the walls crackled brightly.

He bid both Templars farewell, thanking them for their efforts and promising they would have both Fenris’s sword and his own arrows to guard them as they transferred the mages to the dungeons the next day. Then, aware he was in no fit state for house viewing; he headed to the washrooms to make himself presentable.

He had the slow burn of hard work, deep within his muscles, and though the ache at times bordered on unpleasant, the satisfaction at a good day’s work more than made up. His armour weighted heavy, but that did not stop him holding his head high, as he went in the direction of the houses available. The first was serviceable, a statehouse with more rooms than he or Fenris could hope to fill, but the second, although smaller, was closer to the chantry. It even had a mostly secluded garden, big enough to swing a sword about, though not the space for proper target practice with a bow.

Sebastian did not bother to bargain the price down of the second house from the figure quoted him, as Ser Ackles would be paying, and said he would contemplate the property over the night, and come back with an answer the next morning. He also carefully noted the identifying features of the house, so that Fenris might be able to have a look himself before they agreed to buy.

When he returned to his room, he was surprised to find Fenris pacing in front of his door, and clearly agitated.

“They have moved me to the servant’s quarters!” he growled, and Sebastian hustled him inside.

“I apologise, I did not think they would move so quickly.” Sebastian gave a long sigh, knowing that this new development would steal from the day’s successes. “I imagine they’ll say something about wanting you to feel more at home, amongst your fellow elves, and I am afraid there is not much I can do. They are trying to test us, and unfortunately, though your proximity to myself, you are a target as well.”

Fenris scowled, then rolled his shoulders, as if trying to shrug off his anger. “I know… but it will make my visits more obvious… It would be unwise for me to be here more than absolutely necessary.”

“Yes… Void take them, we are so close… I just need a few more days… Do you think that you can bear with it?”

“I can try.”

“Good.” Sebastian had no doubt Fenris would survive the reduced contact, even if it was a trial. But he knew the elf’s patience was not never-ending, and hoped, very quietly, that all this would all be worth it.

***

Fenris had gone to see the house at night, and declared it more than acceptable. Sebastian wrote to Ackles requesting the money to buy the property. He handed over the note personally, to avoid Ackles being able to claim he had failed to receive the paper, and the councillor glared at the piece of parchment. Sebastian did not want to stop, and listen to any of the excuses Ackles might come up with of why he couldn’t give him the money straightaway, so declared that he had Templar to assist, and made his swift exit.

The transfer of the magi was watched, warily, by many of the townsfolk. Fenris had mentioned that while out in Starkhaven, discovering a taste for ale so dark you could not see through it, that the people had seemed tense, and the subject of the mages came up frequently without him prompting. They were fearful, and most supported the idea of sending the magi to the dungeons, as far from them as possible.

Sebastian, sat high on one of the rooftops, easily visible with his armour, arrows trained on the slow walk, and in one case limp, of mages, was glad of his decision to help with the move. Surrounded by Templar and one partially violent looking elf with a rather large sword, as well as knowing Sebastian was watching, the mages would have had to be extremely foolish to attempt escape, and to their credit, none dared.

There was a cheer as the mages left the sunlight, descending into the pits of Starkhaven castle, and Sebastian climbed down gracefully from his vantage point, to be congratulated by various townsfolk in giving them back their chantry. Word of his promise to deal with the mage threat had got loose, and people were curious, probing and prying, trying to hear what Sebastian had in mind.

“All in good time. However… I do need some supplies….” He had said, and produced a list. Iron bars, of varying sizes, rope and shards of metal, and meat on the verge of going off.

He could see people look at him, unsettled, wondering what use he could have for such ominous items, and he turned to Fenris, and dipped his head, the slightest of smiles, small, and strange, on his face. It did little to reassure people, but, because he was a prince, he was promised the items would be gathered as soon as possible, and delivered to…

“The dungeons of course.” He answered smoothly. “After all, they are for the magi.”

*****

He had been expecting his actions to cause a stir, and when a flustered page came up and handed over a note asking Sebastian to present himself to the council, Sebastian did not delay and made his way to the council court, Fenris at his side.

He was not guided to the public galleries, instead taken to a side room, where the four councillors, Goren and Lyond the head Templar were waiting for him.

“You go too far Sebastian. The mages are in the dungeons, as you requested, but now I hear talk of you taking a personal hand in dealing with the mages. That is the realm of the Templar, and you have no business meddling.” Yegor was angry, and did not seem to see the look that passed between Sebastian and Lyond, Sebastian seeing at once Lyond had not been part of calling this meeting together. Good, Sebastian thought, for as much as the man set his teeth on edge, Lyond had seemed happy with Sebastian’s proposals, as much as the archer had been able to tell him. It meant, as well as Fenris’s ever reassuring presence, he had at least one other he could count on.

The councillors however, were not happy; Sebastian was disrupting their power, working outwith their control. He could see that Yegor and Ackles would like nothing better than to strip him of his rank, and throw him to the streets, while Blair was wary, and had decided to side with them for the time being. Goren, and the timid Kolin, seemed to be satisfied that Sebastian had so far done no harm, but they were outnumbered. Lyond, there only as a token Templar presence, and not given chance to say much more than ‘yes Ser’, looked tired at the proceedings.

Sebastian allowed Fenris to come and stand at his side, and opened his hands in front of him.
“As chantry protector, I am doing what I must. For the chantry to be safe, the mages have to be dealt with.”

“And would you say that our Templar are not doing exactly that?”

Sebastian shook his head, “No. The Templar work hard to keep the people safe from the mages, but it is treating the symptoms, rather than the source. I would put into place a more permanent solution. The best way… no, the only way to deal with magi.”

Ser Ackles, billed for Sebastian’s new home and determined to see Sebastian shamed, glared. “Empty promises, you are all talk Sebastian, and frankly, I grow tired of your chatter.”

Sebastian straightened, “Fine. I can guarantee you, that if you give me control over the mages, along with the aid of the Templar of course, that they will never pose harm to Starkhaven.”

Ackles looked at Sebastian, surprised at such a move. It seemed the prince had finally erred, stepping too far and promising too much.

“A bold claim…” Ackles had started to smile, and he bridged his hands in front of him. “If you can deliver upon it…”

“Grant me a season, that is all I ask.”

Ackles looked smug, and he sat back in his chair. He could see Sebastian, confident and popular and so-far untouchable, but knew that if he gave the archer-prince enough rope, he might just hang himself, and save Ackles the trouble of trying to remove his presence.

“As you wish, Sebastian. Upon your head be it should you fail.”

“However… “ Sebastian said, ignoring the gleam in Ackels’s eyes. “We ought to ask Lyond himself, as Head Templar surely he gets a say. Lyond, might I have your permission, to do whatever it takes to put an end to the mage threat?”

“Yes.” Lyond answered briskly, and crossed his arms. Ackles might have been surprised at the Templar’s response, but Sebastian would guess he had seen that the councillor of the coffers could not lose. Should Sebastian succeed, then he would be the one who had granted the power to the man, and should he not, well, Sebastian had just announced himself the sole scapegoat.

With no opposition, and nothing left to stand in his way, and all the pieces in place, Sebastian gave Lyond a nod.

“We will start. Tonight.”

***

The room Sebastian had set up for the meeting of Lyond and the mages’ representative was as far from the rest as possible, and one of the few rooms with the luxury of a door. It sat, heavy and solid in its frame, and was opened by Fenris, as he gestured Lyond and the mage inside, shutting it firmly behind them.

Rumours must have been flying fast, because though the robed woman shied away from the Templar, when she saw Sebastian waiting for them, she seemed positivity terrified. That Fenris took up position behind Sebastian, his stance ready, sword out and held in front of him, could have hardly helped the mage feel at ease. The iron rods and rope had arrived, and the Templar had been discussing all day what use they would be put to, their comments entirely within earshot due to the confines of the space in the dungeons. Not to mention, it was well known Sebastian had suffered greatly when Anders had destroyed the chantry in Kirkwall, and the council had handed him the power to deal with the mage threat.

“Sit.” He said, looking intently over the mage before him. She tried, as much as possible, to sit as far from him, rather than the Templar to her side, even though Lyond was leering in her direction with a twisted smile.

“Your name please?”

“Dores… Dores Thanth.” Lyond answered for her, not allowing the mage chance to speak. Sebastian looked at Lyond as if the Templar had acted exactly as he would have guessed, and sucked in a breath. He fixed his eyes forwards, his hands folded in front of him.

“Right. Dores, Lyond. Things are going to change.”

Lyond looked pleased, and sneered at the mage. “Finally.” he said.

Sebastian gave him a cold hard look, “Indeed. From this day on, there is to be no more bullying of magi. No more scare tactics and fear. We are going to make the Starkhaven Circle a safe place, that they will not wish to go anywhere else.”

Lyond, confused, decided he must have misheard, and muttered, ignoring the mage beside him, “But… I thought…. Why not make ‘em tranquil m’lord? Then they’ll not wish to do anything but serve…”

Sebastian slammed a hand on the table in front of him, so hard it stung. “No! No more! When you control and constrict, you give the apostates cause for living outside the Maker’s light. Instead, Templar will watch over the mages, not subjugate, and I will watch the Templar. The mages will be safe, and treated with respect.”

Lyond’s face turned dark, “You will reward what happened in Kirkwall, if you coddle them.” He warned.

“I will treat them like people, so that they do not become monsters.”

Dores, her own mouth open, looked at Sebastian, as if suspected this was some grand trick, some way to catch her out. She took in Sebastian’s eyes, fixed upon Lyond and saw the Templar’s growing discomfort, as he quickly gathered that things were not going to go as he had hoped. He twisted, pointing at the mage.

“They don’t deserve kindness…”

“No, they do not deserve you. Lyond, you are dismissed, of rank and title. You will be given one week’s pay, and then a small stipend of lyrium each week.”

“What!? Why?”

Sebastian spoke low, his voice finally able to unleash the disgust he had for the man, “I have heard the stories, and listened to confessions Ser Lyond. I spoke to your fellows, and to the sisters and brothers of the chantry I could convince to speak out against you. You rule by fear, and the Templar follow your poor example. They see the mages as little more than animals, and laugh at their pain, and do not see how very wrong that is. Over the past months, you have used this city to hide behind, thinking you were out of the sight of the chantry and the Maker, but I see you. I see someone who would send away the chantry brothers and sister, so they could not witness your depravity. You had the chance, all you had to do was be a Templar proper, follow the chant of light and let it guide you, but instead you allowed your darker urges to rule over you, and the mages who you were supposed to protect. Get out of here, you sorry excuse for a man, never mind one of the Maker’s warriors.”

“You can’t dismiss me!”

“I think you’ll find I can. You yourself granted the power to me. I can ‘do whatever it takes to put an end to the mage threat.’ And you, Lyond, are part of the reason mages are so afraid, so angry that they would strike out against the Maker’s house. Take away that fear, give no cause for such anger, and the threat is no more.”

Lyond rose, swiftly, and one heavy gauntleted hand came round in an arch, aiming for Sebastian’s head. Sebastian did not move, and Fenris came forward, blocking the blow with ease, Lyond’s chair having been set out so his right hand had no room to throw a punch, the Templar too predictable in his rage.

“Are you quite finished?” Sebastian asked, adding a dismissive note to his voice.

Lyond looked at him, and then the shining blue elf, who he’d heard could rip a man’s heart out through his chest, and decided not to test whether the stories were true. He left, escorted out by Fenris, and Sebastian leaned in to Dores, who was finally starting to lose the frightened stiffness to her stance.

“I know it has been a couple of difficult days, but I had to keep up the pretence that I would be hard on the mages. I can only imagine the stress that put you and your fellows under, and so I offer my utmost apologises.”

“This is real, not a fade dream… Yeh really are going to do all yeh say… but the rope, the iron rods… all the talk of ‘dealing with the mage threat’…”

Sebastian smiled, but it was not the cruel twist that Lyond had worn, rather a gentle soft curl of lips, matched by gentle and soft eyes, that held just the glint of mischief. “Technically, yes, I did say such things. But you’ll find, my lady, that I spoke not one word of a lie. Should all mages be happy, and safe, then I cannot see why we could consider them a threat. However… the townspeople are frightened, and would not have agreed so readily if I announced my plans from the start. I had to seem harsh, but I assure you no harm will come to you and yours. I have removed Lyond from office, and hopefully now that we have cut the head of the snake, the rest of the wickedness will wither and die, but are there any others who you feel are a danger to the mages?”

Dores shook her head, long brown hair flicking out around her face, “There’s another two I’d not like to be left alone in the same room as, Issacs and Leston, but Lyond, he was the worst. Didn’t let Mallison heal up his own leg, even when he swore he’d not need to use magic, and bound his hands with bandages he could’ve used upon his leg. He’d get close, too close, and not move away, and stare. Like he was huntin’, waitin’. I think yeh might have come just in time…”

Sebastian breathed heavy, and shook his head that a man who claimed to follow the chantry could have fallen so far.

“This Issacs and Leston, we will give them a chance at redemption, but I will watch them carefully, and if you see, hear or even suspect anything, please let me know. No-one should have to live in fear, nor locked away like a prisoner without committing any crime.

“Then, mi’laird, why are we in a dungeon?” Dores spoke, braver now, and gestured at the surrounding walls with distaste.

“Look about you. What do you see?” Sebastian’s voice was warm, and he delighted that Dores felt confident enough to speak her mind.

“Walls, stone walls, thick and cold. A prison.”

“I see stone, same as you, but solid and safe. There is no safer place for you right now, till we can work to allay the fear of the people. Its temporary, till the circle is built and the city ready to accept that mages have a place in Starkhaven, and I think you’d be hard pressed to find a more secure place.”

Sebastian gave a little smile, and tapped the nearest wall with his knuckle. “Plus… all this stone ought to work well to contain stray magic spells, I should think.”

“Wait… yeh want us tae use magic?”

“Exactly. There are two things that will lead a man to ruin, mages included, one is anger, and we’ve already discussed how to start undoing the damage people like Lyond have caused. The second is ignorance. Let us train the magi, so that the gifts the Maker granted you can be put to good use. The rods for example, could they be heated up with fire magic, so they can be forged without furnace? If we can do that, I think blacksmiths might be appreciative of a blaze controlled to such degree, it’ll surely help their craft. The meat, if you freeze it, will keep longer, and there will be less waste and more profit for the framers and traders.”

“An’ the rope?”

“That may or may not work, but I thought if we weaved metal through the rope, an electrical bolt would carry the length of it. Hard to scale a wall, if there is a line of sparks along the edge… If we can find use for magic, find a way for it to serve, the people will surely see that there is benefit to having mages around. What talents do the mages here have?”

“We’ve a pair of healers, two who specialise in fire and myself who works with ice, one force, an’ two entropy mages.”

“That’s only eight. I was told there are nine mages.”

Dores grimaced, “There’s Mags, she doesn’t dae much magic. She’s addicted heavily to lyrium, and is a bit touched in the hed, if yeh know what ah mean…”

Sebastian hmm’d thoughtfully. Before he could enquire further, there was a knock, as Fenris returned, letting himself in and looking to Sebastian urgently.

“Lyond kicked up a bit of a fuss as he left; the other Templar want to know what’s going on.”

Sebastian got up, and gave Dores a little bow of his head, “My lady, I shall have to go and deal with this. Excuse me please.”

She gave the smallest of nods, still recovering from the intense relief that this Sebastian was not the madman she’d feared, and watched as Sebastian and Fenris went out, gathering the Templar and rousing those who were off shift and sleeping.

“Templar; the Maker’s warriors.” Sebastian began, looking over the men, some nineteen strong and each armoured and armed. “The work you do is hard, and at times even dangerous, and I have utmost respect for each and every one of you. However, I fear that the task has hardened your hearts, and blinded you to the light of the Maker. No-where in the chant of light, or the teachings, is cruelty and terror suggested as a suitable means to treat your fellow man, elf or dwarf, mage or no. The Templar should not have to risk their souls, not any more. Lyond has been dismissed, for straying from the path of the Maker.
“You are the Maker’s warriors, and it is high time the Templar started acting like it. I have seen the paranoia that all mages are out to corrupt consume Templar, and drive them to foul and filthy deeds. I have seen abuse, and I have seen the path that such acts lead to.
“This will not, no, can not be permitted to continue. There will be no more fear, no more use of undue force against the mages. Any man, who feels he cannot behave in a manner befitting the title of Templar, ought to leave now, because I will not tolerate evil in the Maker’s ranks.”

There was a shuffling, and a great deal of looking back and forth, trying to process the sudden change of command. Sebastian stood, hard and steady, Fenris at his side. When no-one moved for the door, he softened his eyes.

“Serving the chantry is a noble endeavour, and I cannot imagine any of you became Templar just so that you could terrorise mages and make their lives miserable. Lyond and his like have managed to subvert what the Templar order are supposed to stand, but I for one will not allow that to continue. Let us make the name Templar represent something good again.”

He went on to talk about how a mage repressed and scared would eventually be forced to fight back, but a magic user content would have no reason to strike out against Templar. That if they worked together, mages and Templar, they’d be stronger for it, and the new Starkhaven circle would be sure to succeed.

There was slow acceptance, as the majority of Templar found themselves agreeing. No-one cheered outright, Sebastian was still too much of an unknown factor, but the archer hoped that in time, the Templar might see the sense of his plan, that if the mages were happy, they’d not be a danger. That they could guard the mages, without having to be hated for it.

That when the Templar-mage war came to Starkhaven, neither side would have to suffer, nor would the city of Starkhaven.

Sebastian then approached the mages, and gave a similar speech, that surely it would be better for the mages not to have to fight the Templar at every step, that they could work towards the same goals. They had more reason to distrust him, but Dores stood forward, and said that they did not have much to lose by trying Sebastian’s new way.

Granted at least the chance to change things, Sebastian brought the Templar and mages together, and explained the next stage of his plan, talking long into the night, welcoming and answering questions.

Once finished, there were smiles, and hopeful whispers, and Sebastian felt his heart lift, the dark weight of Anders’s actions and the hate and rage it had caused dissipate.

He had felt his own anger wrap around himself, at in the height of his madness, knew that in his darkest moments, there was no depth he’d not have sunk to punish the mage. It was that anger, that burned at his rationale, ate at his soul, that had made him see that anyone, mage or otherwise, could be twisted into something wicked. He had resolved to address his own anger, defeat it, and then work to see that no mage was pushed to such actions as the Abomination had seen fit to inflict upon Kirkwall.

The back rooms of the dungeons, lined by stone and rock, were designated the ‘test chambers’. They were cleared of all bedding and furniture, and the iron rods lined against the wall. It did not take long to have spare blankets hung over the door to the cells, to afford both Templar and mage some privacy, something Sebastian and Fenris could well understand the longing and need for. Each mage was given a cell to themselves, or the offer to share if they preferred. Templar too, were each granted a room, for taking their rest and breaks in. The dungeons were large enough each person could have a room, and there were still plenty left over. Fenris, still annoyed that he had been moved to the servants quarters, asked both mages and Templar if they did not mind if he took one of the spare cells. No-one did, and so the elf told Sebastian that he would keep eye over things, if the archer wanted to get some much deserved sleep.

He did not know how much time passed, down in the dungeons, but when everything was finally set up, Sebastian made his way to his separate room, coming out from the castle to a bright new dawn.

****

After sleep, Sebastian returned to the dungeons, and was glad to see the fragile truce had held, and that the Templar had not reverted back to what they had been taught and trained in over the last months. Fenris was there, talking with a couple of Templars of how they would try and find apostates and bring them to the circle (once it was completed), rather than let them be at risk of hanging.

Sebastian breathed an inward sigh of relief. He’d been frightened for Fenris, but the elf had insisted while they made the preparations to remove Lyond from officer that someoneneeded to be present in the dungeons, to keep things on track. Sebastian needed to be alert; he would have to handle the councils when they heard what was going on in the depths of the dungeons, which left Fenris to quietly observe to make sure the Templars or mages did not revolt, or murder each other. In honesty, Fenris was perfect for the job, quiet, intimidating but not quick tempered, and Sebastian had seen him shrug off magical blasts of energy with ease, and then keep fighting. That he wore a moonstone amulet under his armour, and a belt that also offered some modest amount of magical resistance, meant that Sebastian could trust that Fenris would be safe, even if he was surrounded by highly strung mages and leaderless Templar.

It had not made for a partially easy night’s sleep however, Sebastian’s thoughts first painting a terrible picture of a battle breaking out down in the dungeons, the stone shrouding the sound so it would be over before he was able to realise, and run down the steps to find strewn bodies filling the cells, Fenris either dead or dying because of an oversight in his plan. Then, when Sebastian had carefully reminded himself that Fenris was a warrior without equal, his mind moved on to Fenris talking with the Templar, and being drawn into agreeing that Sebastian’s plan was folly. That it would be best now, to put the mages down while they were unsuspecting. That Sebastian would return to a bloodbath, Fenris’s sword slick with the blood of magi. And smiling.

It had been harder to rationalise away that particular fear, and in the end Sebastian had taken a glass of fortified wine, and placed his faith in Fenris and the Maker that catastrophe would not occur while he rested.

It seemed like he had been rewarded, Fenris deep in discussion supporting the plan, and the Templar seeming to agree and understand.

“You’re all aglow wi’ lyrium… Can you use that to sense a mage?” one Templar asked.

“I... have not tried.”

“Should be possible, lyrium links to the fade, and fade links to magic…”

And so, urged on by the Templar, Fenris started to learn to ‘sense’ the difference between a Templar and a mage. Though he had to activate his brands, and touch the person he was testing, he found that even when he closed his eyes, he could make a guess at who was a mage. He still grit his teeth when laying his hand upon a mage, but once blindfolded, he attended the task, and was distracted enough by trying to feel for a fade connection that he forgot to look so disgusted. Soon, he was getting it right more than wrong.

While Fenris was experimenting with his abilities, a few mages came forward to the testing chambers to practice heating the metal up to workable temperatures, irons rods at first, but with a view to working the metal of a sword eventually. A couple of Templar watched, ready to dispel the magics if at any point it looked dangerous.

Sebastian watched, interested, as the mages grew bolder, both knowing that they’d not be punished for working their craft, and that their spells could not rage beyond their control. He’d seen the might of magic on the battlefield, but had often wondered if a mage could not turn their hand to something more passive, such as helping farmers, or blacksmiths. The practical applications were staggering, if he could convince the populace to allow the mages to aid them. It would take time, both for the people to see the benefits, and the mages able to work their magics with the skill and control required not to put themselves or anyone else in danger.

The pair of entropy mages however, posed a problem and a puzzle. No matter how hard he tried, Sebastian could not find a useful application for the life-draining nightmare invoking powers they were practiced in. He was sat at the desk, head in his hands, when Fenris entered.

“Something wrong?” Fenris strained to sound less concerned than he did, and Sebastian shook his head as if to say Fenris need not to rush to the rescue, that it was a small matter.

“It’s the entropy mages, I cannot fathom what they could do to make themselves of use.”

“Pests.”

Sebastian was about to chastise Fenris for such language when they were trying to get Starkhaven to see the mages as more than a worrisome nuisance, when he saw Fenris was not scowling, brows neither furrowed into a frown. Sebastian sat back in the chair, and waited for Fenris to explain.

“Pests, like rats and mice and the like. Do you remember, in Kirkwall, we took up a chantry board request, how long it took us to clear that cellar of rats? They were small, but so many of them, and too quick for your arrows and my sword. I think a burst of entropy magic might do the job a great deal faster, but you’d have to clear out the bodies or they’ll sit and rot.”

Sebastian curled his lips, pleasantly surprised at Fenris’s notion. That he was able not only to solve the problem of the entropy magi, but that he was contributing towards the cause, was something of a minor miracle.

Fenris had not been happy, that Sebastian planned to go to Starkhaven and work with the mages, but Sebastian had been very convincing, laying each of his arguments down with confidence and faith. The elf had had to agree, that the current system was flawed, and failing. He’d been more of a mind to kill all mages as a solution, but Sebastian had vehemently argued against such actions, saying that if they were to start putting mages to death, it would only make those left go to ground, and fuel the hate, and they’d both seen the damage a single angry apostate had caused.

The lyrium warrior still had his doubts, but was at least willing to give Sebastian a chance, trusting the archer. The mages of Starkhaven would not be allowed to become magisters. Sebastian had explained that he planned to integrate mages with the city, that they’d not be apart, think themselves different, above the rest. A mage may be able to conjure fire from nothing, but he or she could not build a chair, or manage a field. Each person had their own skills, and place, and through finding where the mages could fit into that, would ensure that magic would serve man, and not rule over him.

That he had managed to convince Fenris, who had suffered more at the hands of magic than any other he knew, gave Sebastian hope that Starkhaven could be coaxed into likewise setting aside their prejudices and fears.

Things were going well, and though he could see the mages watch the Templars, as if ready for the moment of betrayal, while the Templar did the exact same back, both sides were making the effort to work in unison. It would take time, before trust grew, but Sebastian was encouraged that they had been willing to try.

Watching his plan come together, and Fenris able to speak to a mage without declaring them an abomination (hard to do that, when they had both met and known true abominations), Sebastian settled, and turned his mind to trying to get Ackles to actually follow though and supply the house. He was about to go and pester the man, questioning the delay, when he was called before the council, and asked why Lyond had been dismissed.

He gave a report, that he’d written with Dores and Ron’s help, as well as information he’d received when talking to the brothers and sisters of the chantry, listing Lyond crimes against the mages, such as breaking limbs and not allowing them to be healed or even treated, depriving the mages in his care of food, water and sleep when the mood took him, and generally being a horrible human being.

“He was tainting the Templar order, and I could not allow such behaviours to continue. Fear not, for I have elected a new Templar head.”

Ron had tried to refuse, but Sebastian pointed out that the young Templar had at least voiced his concerns, and that such morals were needed, if they were going to remake the Templar. Dores, who spoke up frequently now, had said that she thought Ron would be an excellent head Templar, and reluctantly, Ron had accepted the position.

The councillors were not impressed.

Ackles however, thinking that Sebastian was well on the way to falling out of favour, shrugged.

“If young Sebastian wants to let such an inexperienced man led the one thing keeping the mages from running amok, I am sure he has his reasons…”

Sebastian had told Fenris that Ackles would seek to destroy him, and here, was the fruition of that. Ackles did not believe Sebastian would actually be able to pull off his grand plan, and that by granting him the power to make such mistakes, he’d hasten the prince’s downfall.

Yegor, after looking to Ackles and trusting that the coffer councillor knew what he was doing, nodded that Sebastian could indeed do what he liked with the Templar, but warned; “One season.”

Sebastian bowed low, and excused himself, deciding that if one season was all he had, he’d best not dally.

****

While Ackles might not have been interfering with the mages or Templar (who, between them, had perfected the art of freezing meat and were now working on trying to chill fruit and vegetables without reducing the foodstuffs to mush when it thawed), he seemed intend to fuss over every single detail, and delay the purchase of the house.

It had been a week, and though Fenris and Sebastian spent their days together in the dungeons, the distance remained, neither of them willing to reveal their relationship in front of so many, nor risk the delicate balance of respect and trust they had started to collect.

It was started to wear, being so close but yet so far, and Fenris had snapped angrily on more than one occasion. He’d apologised, elegantly and at length afterwards, but Sebastian could tell that the strain was getting to him, fracturing his veneer of strength.

So Sebastian went to the tavern.

***

He came back to the castle at a near run, and sent for a page to take a verbal message to the servant’s quarters and find Fenris immediately. Another was sent, with all speed, to the quartermaster, requesting an extra bedroll.

Fenris arrived in full armour, shortly after the bedding, and looked at Sebastian, who was standing out in the corridor, hand on his dagger, eyes sharp and focused. He paused midway through scanning the surrounding space, and gave Fenris a nod, no smile.

“There is a rumour going around town…. that some group of people who think all mages should be put to the blade are working to stop us. Word is, they have sent an assassin. It would be remiss of me to not take measures to protect the both of us.”

Fenris’s eyes widened, then he caught the way Sebastian rested his hand on the dagger. Now that he was close, he could see that the fingers were relaxed, and would be slow to pull the dagger into a fighting stance. He looked to Sebastian, and the open door to his room, and frowned, unsure of how Sebastian could be so calm in the face of such threat against him.

As Sebastian closed the door, the archer let his smile show, and Fenris blinked. He was about to ask what Sebastian found so funny about the possibility of death, when it dawned on him that he and Sebastian were finally behind closed doors, with reason to remain so for the rest of the night. The elf crossed his arms, understanding.

“You, are a very clever man.”

Sebastian gave a shrug, smiling wide. “I might have picked up a few tricks from Varric.”

Fenris tilted his chin at the bedroll, “So there is no assassin, but do you expect me to sleep upon the floor like a mabari?”

“When there is a perfectly serviceable bed? Certainly not.”

“Then what’s that for?”

“Appearances. And…” Sebastian unrolled the thick fabric, and laid it against the door, catching it on one of the more prominent ornamentations on the doorframe.

“We’ll still have to be mindful of noise, but that should shield some of the sound.” He took a step forwards, heart already pounding a steady beat of want and need through him. One step, then another, then; “It has been tae long.”

Another step.

“Do yeh think yeh can manage tae be quiet Fenris?”

His recent successes told in his confident cadence, his stride, and Sebastian knew that he was near desperate to feel Fenris’s skin under him. It lent his tongue courage to speak words that he’d have normally bitten back, challenging, teasing, tempting. He might have wondered at being quite so dominant, but Fenris reached and laid a hand at the back of his neck, and pulled the prince in for a hard kiss, eyes turning from emerald to obsidian. Sebastian felt a hand rub against his stiffening cock, and startled, as Fenris whispered back; “I have control enough to mind my moans, but the question is; do you?”

A palm, Fenris’s palm, against him, feeling hot and heavy even through the layers of cloth, pushing that little bit harder, that little bit more demandingly, and Sebastian could not help but give a soft grunt.

Fenris’s eyes gleamed, as he resumed kissing Sebastian, powerful, near bruising kisses, perfect after so much space between them. His lips moved as if Fenris could not get enough of the brush of flesh against flesh, the slide of a tongue deep into his mouth, and the heat, oh Maker, the heat.

Seemingly determined to undermine Sebastian’s normally exceptional control, Fenris pressed his lips against Sebastian’s, till they flushed full and open, and Fenris had to stop for breath.

It was like presenting a feast to a starved man, and Sebastian knew he ought to slow, and savour this chance, to make it worth the wait, but his hunger for the elf consumed him, and he kissed back, with teeth and tongue.

He had not (could not) forgotten what it was like to taste the elf from the inside out, but as his tongue ran against Fenris’s, he was reminded the way the muscle flexed, never passive, exploring as much as his own. When not sliding, dancing, Fenris would run it around where their lips met, would steal back and forth, drawing Sebastian deeper, or delving into the archer’s mouth. It made him feel giddy, though he presence of mind enough to note the edge of haste to Fenris’s motions, the grip on the back of his neck tight, tense.

Sebastian would have liked to hold his resolve better, and kiss Fenris hard and long, to make up for the time they’d had to spend apart, but his cock was insistent that without attention, it might rupture.

It was Fenris’s turn to let slip a rumbling exhale, almost a purr, as Sebastian rounded a smooth cheek to find an earlobe, and suck upon it, the press of teeth a promise he’d not hold back, no matter if Ser Ackles himself was at the door listening.

He slipped his tongue into the hard curve of Fenris’s ear, and let his breath roll into the orifice.

“Ah want yeh, an’ Ah might not be able tae hold back much longer.”

“Then don’t.”

The whisper went straight to Sebastian’s knees, and he stumbled in place, rocking against Fenris. The elf held him tightly, as if trying to feel the heat of his skin through the clothes, then, when that was not enough, moved a hand under Sebastian’s shirt.

Splayed fingers, pressing into the small of his back, and curled just enough to let Sebastian feel each fingertip, and Sebastian had to agree that skin upon skin was preferable to the barrier the clothes posed.

It was something of a challenge, to try and get out of his shirt, with Fenris so close, and unwilling to break his hold long enough for Sebastian to manipulate the fabric. He too, did not want to take his hands from smoothing over the muscle hidden in leathers, to let there be so much as a hair’s width between them. The knowledge that if he only could bear to pull himself back, he would get so much more, allowed him to force his hands to release the elf, and quickly undress, feet and hands working in tandem to kick off shoes and drag the shirt over his head.

The shirt had yet to hit the floor, before Sebastian was back, kissing as if it had been days rather than seconds, his hands pulling at the straps of Fenris’s armour, and dragging across skin. The elf’s hands were arched into claws, and clutched at Sebastian’s exposed back.

Sebastian could practically smell the need in the air, the thick scent of desire rising from both of them. As if trigger had been pulled, his tongue ran, wild and rapid, speaking a stream of whispered pleas and promises.

“Want yeh, want yeh sae much. Want to be in yeh, deep inside. Fill yeh up, fill yeh to the brim. Please Fenris, Ah want yeh. Need yeh. Please.”

While it was unlikely his words would be overheard, Fenris still pressed a finger against Sebastian’s lips, looking at the archer with eyes full and dark.

“Not helping… You need to hush, if I’m going to be able to make it to the bed.”

Sebastian grinned, and opened his mouth just enough to suck upon the finger there, tasting the sweat of the pad, tongue against the ridges. Fenris pulled back, making a pained little noise of desperation, and pushed his armour from him as if it were on fire. One gauntlet, two, and the tight leather trousers stretched over his length fell to the ground, and he looked to the bed, where a sheet was laid out, and oil, in readiness.

Fenris stopped trying to manage the various clasps of his chest armour, instead walking to the bed and looking over his shoulder, as spine curled and he rested his forearms on the bed. Sebastian was aware of a moan, louder than he’d intended, issue from his mouth, as if pulled from deep within his throat, at the sight of Fenris half undressed, stretched on the side of the bed, presenting himself.

“Maker’s breath….” He said, awed, as Fenris passed him the oil, the elf’s hardness thick, a tiny drip already escaping the tip.

“Quickly.” Fenris warned, and so Sebastian pressed two oiled fingers against the tight ring, stretching Fenris the bare minimum. Sebastian would have liked to use more fingers, make sure that Fenris would be ready for his cock, but he knew neither of them would last much longer. Fenris’s head bobbed in front, as if agreeing with Sebastian judgement that two brief fingers, would have to be enough.

“Ready?” Sebastian asked as he lined himself up. Fenris made his reply by pushing backwards, letting the tip of Sebastian length touch against the slicked circle of muscles. He gave a low noise, needy, and realised that he’d have to be much quieter if they were not to be discovered. He brought his hand to his mouth, and bit upon the knuckle of his fingers, as Sebastian slowly dipped into the flesh, breath ragged, jaw clenched against letting slip his own gasps and groans of pleasure.

Tightness, soft and slick but so tight, and Sebastian grasped against both of Fenris’s hips, fingers digging almost to the bone, feeling the way Fenris’s body trembled with the intrusion as he slid forward. Muffled noises, as the girth of Sebastian cock stretched him open, and then a sigh, that coursed through Fenris’s body, as finally Sebastian was pressed as far as he could go. He held there, feeling the way Fenris twitched round him, his leather armour shaking with the effort of keeping quiet, his lyrium’d fingers likely to bear toothmarks by the end.

The way Fenris offered his body so trustingly was beautiful to behold, and the way he would rock backwards, as much as he could, trying to let Sebastian in deeper. It felt like there was too much emotion, too much sensation, to be contained within his skin. Sebastian felt frantic, his heart hammering, perfectly held at the edge of control, knowing it was Fenris who could bring him so close to the precipice, and then beyond.

He pulled back, and he could feel Fenris’s entrance hold him, grip him, the warmth inside beckoning him to return. When he let his hips snap forward, the sound he made was strained, barely kept in check, and matched by a guttural call from Fenris, though through the teeth and finger it sounded rougher.

Fenris was braced against the mattress, the frame of the bed well made enough it did not give out even the slightest creak, the only sounds in the rooms was the harsh panting of breath, slap of skin on skin, and their voices, each struggling to be silent.

Sebastian thrust, hard, deep, wanting to be in that heat, wanting to be as close to Fenris as possible.
Melting from the inside out, he was only vaguely aware of the elf bunching handfuls of sheets in his free hand, his cock swaying between his legs, untouched. With a cry that his hand could not contain, Fenris released, his body shuddering, drawing Sebastian further, his own ejaculation heralded by a whimpered sound that his clutched closed throat only just managed to keep from turning into a shout of his lover’s name.

Fenris twisted till he was on his side, reaching and pulled Sebastian down to join him, unable to do more than breathe and hope that the archer could see the satisfaction in the hooded eyes and curve of his lips.

“Right.” Sebastian said, voice clear, determined, as he wrapped round Fenris, holding him tight, “I do not want to wait to be able to do that again. Tomorrow, we are moving in.”

****

Sebastian could talk to Ackles till he turned grey, and it would not have sped up the process of the councillor buying the property, so he went directly to the current owner.

“I should like to move in. Today.”

"Ser Ackles told me.. that it was unsuitable for a prince. We still have to redo the floors, and the drapes were apparently the wrong colour, and the fireplace is cast iron, and not marble… It’ll take another week before the dwarves have carved out from the marble, and another again to fit it.”

Sebastian raised a brow, and crossed his arms. He’d left Fenris sleeping, and had to rely on his own abilities to look unimpressed, and while he could never hope to match that solid green glare, he knew that the title of near-enough prince allowed him some scope to get what he wanted.

“I should like to move in today. Which means,” he added, seeing the flustered man open his mouth to object, “that you can start to charge Ackles from this moment on. No doubt he has asked you to make all these unnecessary changes without actually producing the coin beforehand. Well, now he has to give you your payment, and to the void with the colour of the drapes.”

“Mi’lord…?”

“It is fine. You’ve done everything he asked of you, and you can tell him I am muchly pleased. So much so that I wish to waste no more time before I can call it home.”

The man looked Sebastian over, then broke out into a wide grin, clapping his hands. “As you wish. Here are the keys.”

As Sebastian’s hand closed around the metal, he wished Fenris could be there, that he and the elf could walk into their new home together. It would not be acceptable, to have Fenris with him… although…

Struck by an idea, Sebastian smiled all the way back to the castle.

***

No-one batted an eye, when they saw Sebastian and Fenris approach the house, and make their way inside, not with Fenris carrying a large canvas sack, same as Sebastian’s. If anyone noticed how Sebastian had to place his upon the ground in order to get the key out, then motion for Fenris to likewise let the weight drop as he fumbled and searched at length for the missing item, finally producing it with a flourish and opening the door, they’d have found the sequence of events normal, bordering on mundane.

Fenris went inside, and Sebastian dragged the two bags containing all they had managed to save from Kirkwall over the threshold of the door, to meet in the hall. Even though Fenris would have happily helped, Sebastian felt it important that the charade of being a servant stopped at the door, and was not permitted entry into this, their sanctuary, their home.

He lifted his head from pulling bags of armour and weapons and clothes inside, and then shut the door, and saw Fenris come towards him. Lyrium’d fingers cupped round his face, and lips met his. The desperation was gone from the touch, and though pleasant, Sebastian did not feel the need to take the kiss deeper, further. It was nice to simply feel, Fenris’s lips warm, soft, and smiling.

Fenris pulled away, still so close every breath felt heated against his cheeks, and Sebastian looked to him, taking in the serene green of his eyes, and marvelling in their beauty.

“Welcome home.”

*****

He was in front of the council. Again. Fenris took up his now standard position by the door, sword sheaved. He turned so it looked like he was watching the door, occasional twisting to scan the high windows, but Sebastian knew he was listening to every word.

They were in the private back rooms, of which Sebastian was growing familiar, but since he could well guess what he’d been called up for this time, he was glad the public gallery was not present.

Sebastian noted that the councillors had their own seats, Blair and Ackles either side of Goren, Kolin at Blair’s left, Yegor at Ackles’s right. He thought he might be imagining it, but Yegor and Ackles had seemed to shuffle their chairs closer to one another, and fractionally further from Goren. He wondered what that meant, and decided he really did not relish the thought of Ackles and Yegor colluding.

“I am sorry to hear you did not find the castle accommodation generously given to you enough to your liking…?” Yegor’s voice was bitter, and he gave a nod to Ackles, who looked as if he had a mouth full of rotten turnip. It suggested that he’d had to finally give over the coin promised for the house, and was none too happy about being forced into payment.

Sebastian gave a small bow. “The room provided was without fault, but surely you have heard that there is the possibility of an assassin after me. I could not risk bringing the blade into the castle, not for my sake. Myself and my bodyguard have set up in the house Ackles has bought, and I think we should be able to defend ourselves better from there, without endangering any of you.”

Ackles bristled at the mention of buying, but said nothing, while Yegor scowled that his words had yet again been turned against him. All the councillors did not seemed surprised at the mention of an assassin, but Goren’s mouth dropped open. Sebastian felt vaguely sorry, that the ruler of Starkhaven was kept so ignorant of the proceedings of the city.

“Would you like a guard posted, if you feel your life is in danger?” Blair asked, and Sebastian honestly could not tell if the offer was sincere, or merely a way to get a sword and pair of eyes closer to Sebastian.

“I will not take the city’s defences away from their duties. The patrols already in place ought to be sufficient. Besides, I have faith in Fenris’s and mine own abilities to dispatch anyone stupid enough to try and harm me.” A thinly veiled threat, that Yegor missed but Ackles’s eyes widened at. Sebastian made note to get the locked changed… just in case Ackles arranged to have a second set of keys cut.

Blair looked to Fenris, and took in the easy way the elf stood, all strength. The elf certainly gave the appearance of being able to see off an assassin, and Sebastian could tell by the way Blair cast his eyes over the prince, that the commander of the guard had started to suspect the archer was not altogether defenceless without his quiver either. He tapped his chin. “Fair enough.”

Yegor’s twisted his head, so sudden it looked like he was trying to snap his own neck, as he glared at Blair for conceding to Sebastian. He gave a short grunt, and gestured towards Kolin.

“Anyway,” he said, “that’s not why we called you here Sebastian. Care to explain this?”

Kolin coughed, and pulled a sheet out from behind him. It was a familiar sheet, it was Sebastian’s plans for the circle. He laid it down on the table, and drew Goren’s attention to the words written there. Goren followed the bony finger, then frowned, then looked up at Sebastian.

“You want your circle inside Starkhaven’s walls?”

Sebastian nodded, “Yes. Starkhaven’s walls are strong, and high, and guarded. We ought to make use of that. A mage would have a beast of a time trying to scale them, even with ropes and a moonless night. It ought to deter attempts at escape. Not that I am expecting any escapes, but it is good to be prepared.”

Not to mention, that it would be just as hard for someone to break in. Sebastian knew his mages were at risk still, and would rest easier knowing they had the best defences Starkhaven could offer.

“That seems… reasonable.” Goren started, but was then drawn to a different line of the parchment. He furrowed his brow, “Says here, you want houses. Lots and lots of little houses for the magi. Not a more traditional tower?”

Sebastian, who was still standing, clasped his hands. “Houses. Yes. There are a couple of reasons. Firstly, you’ll recall that the old circle burned down. From the accounts, the fires spread quickly from the inside, sheltered from the wind and weather, consuming the lower levels, weakening the stone and wood of the base, which caused the top to topple. People, who had managed to survive the blaze, were crushed under the falling stone. I would learn the lesson here, and have a collection of houses, so that should a fire break out, it would take much longer to spread, and be more accessible to put out again.”

“But why houses? Dormitories would surely be more suitable.”

Sebastian tipped his head, “Harder for them to formulate plots if they each have their own space…”

Yegor stood, when he saw that Goren’s frown had eased, and he was nodding along to Sebastian’s explanations. “The people of Starkhaven will be outraged if you grant these mages houses, they’ll see the mages as getting special treatment.”

“I thought houses might actually help with that, they would be small, unassuming. No great tower looking down upon the townsfolk, no great eyesore dominating over the cityscape.”

Goren looked to his council, then at Sebastian, and then at the paper. “It’s your coin… and you do seem to have everything thought out. Permission granted, the builders can start work immediately.”

Yegor and Ackles might have protested, but Goren had made his mind up, and the councillors decided not to argue with the lord ruler. Sebastian breathed quietly to himself, and asked if there was anything else he was needed for. Ackles, with a look in his eye that told Sebastian this was not over, shook his head, fresh out of attacks against the archer.

Sebastian, after giving a low bow to the court council, made his exit.

****

The next day, to move things forward, he, Fenris three Templar and Dores went to the markets. He needed to get the townsfolk and mages together, to start showing them the potential of magic.

Normally, a healer would have been the perfect example of the good that magic was capable of, but Anders had managed to taint that particular branch of sorcery. The fire mages produced blazes that, though controlled, would do little to reassure the people of Starkhaven that mages were nothing to fear. The entropy mages were likewise unsuitable, though Sebastian hoped he’d be able to use Fenris’s notion of having them control the pests that infested grain stores soon as possible, to preserve as much of the harvest before winter took hold.

Dores, upon a Templar’s advice, had stopped trying to freeze fruit and vegetables directly, as this seemed to damage the products, but instead would turn a barrel of water to ice, which seemed to cool the surround air enough to keep the fruit fresh for much longer. Meat seemed to take the magic better directly, and the dungeons were now well stocked with a variety of foodstuffs, all perfectly fresh. The only problem is that after so long not using her magic, her mana reserves were low, and slow to recuperate. She was getting better with each day, and tired less easily, but Sebastian was mindful that she had her limits, and did not want to push her to them.

The mage was nervous, the Templar wary, and Sebastian himself on edge. His plan, and the fate of the mages of Starkhaven, hung in the balance, and he hoped he could trust that things would not turn nasty. Or bloody.

He was not taking Dores into the situation blind, that much he could promise. Sebastian had found a tavern he liked, and had sat over the course of several evenings, people surrounding him, offering to buy drinks, listening intently to hear what on Thedas was going on in the dungeons.

The supplies of rods and meat kept being delivered to the dungeons but the rods occasionally suffered in the intense flame, and twisted and melted. These, Sebastian had arranged to return to the iron mongers and blacksmiths, in case they could salvage the contorted lumps of metal, but in doing so had sparked more questions as to what the testing chambers were, and what was happening to the mages and why the Templar would not talk about it.

Part of Sebastian was grateful the Templar men had been able to keep quiet, understanding that the task before them all needed to be handled carefully. Moreso, he saw that there was a glimmer of concern for the mages, or perhaps the Templar’s morality, shown in the worried eyes of some of the people, when they asked him what was happening, down in the dungeons out of sight. That the townsfolk could express some form of compassion boded well, that the fear of mages and what they could do did not exclude them from deserving of mercy.

So, Dores in her best robes, staff in hand, and enough Templar to make the people feel a little more secure, they headed to the docks.

They had timed it well, the markets were busy, but not crowded, the majority of people already been and bought what they needed early in the day. People stared at the procession, led by Sebastian, and stopped what they were doing, as Sebastian found a fish merchant, and flashed his most winning smile.

“’lo. Good haul?”

“Aye….” The man watched Dores, and flicked his eyes back and forth, wondering why the prince of Starkhaven was at his stall.

“Yes, a good variety. A shame then, that you’ll not be able to shift them all by the end of the day. There is too many, and the sun too high… seems a terrible waste.”

“…. Aye… yeh lookin’ to buy? I know yeh normally buy near rotten meat, but my fish is good, see?”

“I do see… a fine catch indeed. How’d you like if I could keep them from suffering in the heat of the day, so that you could sell them tomorrow, fresh as they are now. The local cats will be disappointed at not getting your leavings, but then, you don’t go out on your boat for their sake, do you?”

The man, beard greying at the edges of his chin, looked at Sebastian, then to the mage.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Dores here will freeze some water around your fish, putting them on ice. It’ll be like a cool room, but out here in the market place. Ought to keep the fish fresh, and less pungent.”

“A mage… working magic near my fish. Nae thanks!”

“Wait up! You say it’ll help with the stink?” A woman who’d been listening from one side of the fish stall moved round, and rounded on the fisherman.

“I go home each day, reeking from your bleedin’ fish. You should gi’ it a go, if only for sake of my nose!”

The fisherman gave the woman a hard look, then turned to Sebastian. “Well… I gotta listen to the wife, or I’ll no hear the end of it… On yeh go.”

If Dores was at all put off by the heads turned to watch her, she hid it well, as she spoke strange words and gestured with her staff in the direction of the fish. The air shimmered, and ice crystals began to form along the sides of the crates, frosting the fish. People moved away, when they saw the magic at work, but their curiosity, and the presence of the Templar kept them from running.

Once done, Dores passed her staff to a Templar, and rubbed her hands together, the fingers chilled.
“It’ll work better, last longer, if there was water underneath… like a bucket.” She told Sebastian. The archer opened his hands, addressing the crowd.

“A bucket of water for the lady please?”

Soon enough, a bucket was produced, and Dores froze that too, and placed it under the fish, ignoring the look of distrust the fisherman had fixed upon her.

“Now, I should like to buy some.” Sebastian said, pointing to a couple of medium-sized fish. The fisherman gingerly touched them, as if worried they might spring to life, and placed them in a bag, handing them over and taking the coin Sebastian passed him.

“Yeh could’ve had them before the mage done tainted them.” He muttered, obviously fearing that the magical frost would deter his customers.

“No… I’d prefer to have my goods as fresh as possible. They’ll keep till I get them home this way, even if I were to tour the markets till closing. I might even go for a drink, and the fish will be just as good.”

That got people’s attention, that there would be no need to rush, that a sly drink on the way home would not cause the fish to swelter and spoil. Sebastian gave the fisherman a little nod of his head, and then as if to prove his point, took Dores, the Templar and Fenris to the tavern.

“They’re staring.” Dores whispered under her breath, as the Templar shifted under the scrutiny of so many eyes on their little table. Fenris was drinking a small tankard of dark ale, Dores and the Templars watered down wine, Sebastian joining them in a diluted glass of red. He was aware the tavern was unnaturally quiet. The fact that the prince had chosen this particular venue had boosted the tavern’s popularity, but now the sight of a mage inside, drinking, had the various patrons huddled in a hush the other side of the pub.

“Bear with it.” Sebastian advised, everything in his posture exuding calmness. They finished their drinks, and left, Dores markedly relieved to be leaving.

“It was a little unpleasant, but the next time will be better. Nothing happened, and that will reassure the people that a mage can walk in and out of a building without anything exploding.

“Does that mean we have to do that again…?” one of the Templar moaned, his strength sagging after having to be on such high alert for so long, and hardly able to enjoy the tavern’s less than welcoming atmosphere.

“Yes.” Sebastian said sternly, “Till people get used to the sight of magi and Templar, we shall have to persevere. Have faith, the people of Starkhaven are unlikely to stay so silent for long…” he gave a board smile, and one of the other Templar frowned.

“What’s to say they’ll not turn violent?”

“We will give them no reason to.” Sebastian turned, to Dores. “Are you able to come to markets again tomorrow?”

“Aye, as long as I have the Templar to watch over me.”

Sebastian caught the brief look of surprise the Templar let touch their faces, that a mage requested for them to be there, that they were viewed as the guards they were supposed to be. They quickly agreed that they’d be happy to accompany the mage, and Sebastian arranged for them to meet the next day.

***

Word had spread, and a crowd had gather before Sebastian could get to the fisherman’s stall with Dores, There was a tension held in the air, till the fisherman from before had declared his fish from the day before to be fresh still. He told Sebastian he would be more than willing to have the mage perform the magics again.

“Why don’t you ask her…?”

It took a moment for the man to find his courage, but he looked at Dores, keeping distance but also keeping eye contact, “Would yeh please freeze ma wares… Ah’ll even give yeh some to take away with yeh for the favour.”

Dores looked to Sebastian, who gestured it was her choice, and she agreed. The gathered peoples seemed almost disappointed that the magic was exactly the same as before, not flare of light or out of control demons, and some even turned to continue their shopping as the mage worked.

Once she was finished, a dairy farmer asked if the mage couldn’t work the same magic on his stall. She smiled brightly, and applied her arts, and, the man followed the fisherman’s example, gave some of his produce to Dores in thanks. Soon, the mage had a bottle of milk, and fish, and a look of pleasant surprise on her face.

Other stall owners came forward, requesting Dores’s assistance, and Sebastian, carefully and politely, pointed out that Dores did not have limitless reserves of power. He wondered if it would not be a better use of her gift to freeze barrels, one between each stall, so as many as possible benefited. Many stalls agreed, and, then, as arrangements were made for this to become a regular occurrence and barrels of water to be provided, the subject of coin was brought up.

“Three copper per stall.” Sebastian said, having already planned for this, “Two to go to the circle funds, and one for Dores.”

Dores had looked up from where she was carefully tipping some water into the drain so that the ice would not overflow as it froze, startled. “Mi’laird…?” Mages did not earn coin, as a rule they were expected to work their magics and be grateful for the privilege of wearing themselves out on request.

“Why not? You have surely earned it.”

People were frowning, unsure of the idea of a mage collecting coin. Sebastian ignored them, focused solely on Dores.

“What... what would Ah spend it on..?”

“Anything you like… for example, there is a whole marketplace here.”

Frowns quickly dissolved, as the stall holders realised that the coin given to the mage would likely return, that Dores would be a customer.

Sebastian smiled, if there was one way to get the people of Starkhaven on his side, it was to appeal to their pockets and purses.

Sure enough, in the space of a week, Dores started to become a regular face in the markets, freezing the barrels and then often stopping for a rest at one of the tea rooms, her coin as good as anyone else’s. Stall holders reported more profits, many times more than what they paid for the mage’s services, and soon, other merchants, for whom coldness had little effect on their wares, the weapon smiths and bakers, started to take notice, jealous of the boon the farmers were receiving.

It was bright morning, winter’s chill starting to become noticeable, though Dores definitely had a hand in making the air that much cooler, when Sebastian was out watching, from a distance, now he was satisfied no one would try and attack Dores for simply being a mage. There were two Templar now, and the people seemed to accept the decreased number, though he hoped that one day Dores might be able to walk the marketplace unescorted. He was watching as a small child looked at what Dores was doing, the parent making no move to pull their son from the mage, when there was a cough from a weapon smith to his side. The board-shouldered man gestured to Dores, and tilted his head at Sebastian. “Say… what else can your mages do…?”

“I am so very glad you asked.” Sebastian said, and started to explain about fire magics used in place of forges, that were costly to fuel and run, and dangerous if not very carefully monitored. The smith agreed that in return for half what he’d pay for fuelling the furnace, he would give one of Sebastian’s fire mages a try. Sebastian was about to turn and fetch either Yon or Johnil the fire mages (and a couple of Templar to ensure the fire was controlled) to send to the smith, when a baker asked if she could have a fire mage to work her ovens. Sebastian tipped his head, saying that ovens needed to burn a lot longer than a forge, and that it would tire a mage out far too much to be workable.. but… how about something to help rid her of rats, and keep her grain free from contamination.

The baker agreed, with a price set low on the understanding she’d pass on the word should she be happy with the results.

And so, it was not long before there were several mages, each accompanied by Templar, out working magic. The coin they were collecting was stored, though some was spent on a bonus given to the Templar, and a barrel of wine bought to the dungeons to celebrate. The townsfolk were slowly realising that these mages had money, and that if they were polite, the mages would come to their taverns and stalls. Moreover, these mages were useful.

Eventually, Sebastian moved the two healers out, letting them sit in the shade of a stall closed for the winter. Though Sebastian could see that at first most of the people who came to them were in so much pain that their fear and trepidation were secondary, it was not long before the healers were working to ease colds, or bruises and sprains.

That left only the force mage Ollarin, and Mags, who Sebastian had discovered had taken to following Fenris when she could, eyes fixated upon the lyrium in his skin. Fenris, normally more than a little taciturn when it came to magi, nevermind magi who stared, seemed oddly tolerant of Mags. Sebastian had enquired, and Dores had explained what they had managed to piece together of Mags’s history. She had been a healer, on the front line of some battle or other. So many were injured she had been forced to take lyrium potions to keep up with the demand. The battle raged for months, and by the end, no longer of use, Mags had been passed on to the Templar to deal with. The after-effects were that she suffered as much as the Templar when lyrium was not provided. That addiction to lyrium, had unfortunately attracted Lyond’s attention, back when he was still head Templar. Lyond, for his amusement, had withheld the lyrium she craved as much as he did, making her follow orders for it, and obey his every word. Soon, what little sanity she’d managed to hold on to was eroded by the lyrium and Loynd’s cruel treatment.

Shocked, Sebastian had spoken to Mags to see for himself the extent of her suffering, and found that Mags could not speak of her past with any degree of coherence. She’d sit, and answer everything asked in a disjointed little voice, and bore many of the mannerisms of a slave, which accounted for Fenris’s acceptance of her.

She spent most of her time when not watching Fenris, making wisps of light, which tended to only last a few seconds. She was happy enough, and Sebastian took some comfort in that at least.

Ollarin however, was getting frustrated that her powers seemed of no use, that even the entropy mages were accepted but she seemed to have no place in Sebastian’s new Starkhaven.

Sebastian sat her down, and they discussed what she could do. It seemed all her talents were aggressive, pulling and pushing her targets, or dragging them into a focal point. She could see that these spells did not exactly lend themselves to the impression of mages Sebastian was building, and sighed, pulling her arms into herself.

“You know… I think I know exactly what you can do….” Sebastian said, watching as Ollarin’s face lit up.

It took a bit of practice before she could successful control the amount of force she exerted, but soon, the new circle was progressing much more rapidly, as stone and timber were moved with ease across the building yard, the builders grateful they did not have to lift the heavy materials.

Sebastian watched, as not only his circle, not only the Templars and magi, but his grand plan for Starkhaven, came together.

****

/// It had been a week, before the councillors finally demanded Sebastian attend a private court. He suspected it was no so much that he and his mages were endangering the peoples that had Ackles such a shade of red, and Yegor grinding his teeth, but that he was winning them over that was the crux of the problem.

Goren, who was looking at Sebastian with hard eyes that made the archer wonder what he had been told, watched as Sebastian and Fenris entered, and Sebastian was surprised to see two guards at the door. He was even more glad he’d asked Fenris to join him, despite the elf’s protests that the constant meetings were becoming tedious.

“Sebastian Vael, have you taken leave of your senses? Why are there mages running around my marketplace?”

“They are using their magics to help the people of Starkhaven. They are earning the respect of their fellow man, and they are showing that not all magi need to be feared and locked up. If we give the mages purpose, and appreciation, they will feel like part of Starkhaven, and not some grand inconvenience.”

Sebastian, third son of a king, had been a grand inconvenience himself, and knew that without purpose he’d struggled to make his life have meaning. It wasn’t enough to give the mages somewhere safe, they needed a place to belong also.

Yegor leaned to Goren, gesturing the guards to draw their weapons, an unpleasant smile stretching his face; “It is as we feared Lord Vael, he has been corrupted by the magi. He has been taken in, deceived. There might even by blood magic at work….”

Sebastian did not move to draw a weapon, instead watch the guards with a calm indifference. Fenris however, did move closer, awaiting the word to bring to hand his sword.

“While I can understand why you might think I have been brainwashed by the mages, I assure you my thinking is mine own. I took the liberty of safeguarding myself before I took on this task. May I present, Fenris.”

Fenris froze, and shot Sebastian a sharp look of confusion, as Sebastian continued. “Fenris is from Tevinter, where he was enslaved by a magister. He broke free, and was hounded halfway across Thedas. He has more reason to hate and distrust magic than anyone. Ask him yourselves, hear what he thinks about mages.”

At first Fenris was nervous, answering curtly the councillors enquiries, but soon it became clear he harboured great resentment for the terrible magics worked against him. His voice carried with it all the anger, all the hurt, and Sebastian watched as Ackles grew increasingly uncomfortable. It confirmed that he had dealings with Tevinter, his clothes and furs often fashioned in the Tevinter style.

The councillor of coin threw up a hand, as Fenris was part-way telling of the pain he’d suffered in receiving his lyrium brands. “Yes yes, you poor elf, but what has this to do with anything…?”

“You’ll agree that Fenris has had a hard life due to magic and mages.”

“Yes but— ”

“So it follows he will be vigilant against any threat from a mage. I have kept him at my side, to make sure I do not grant the mages power above the Templar, nor give them opportunity to act against Starkhaven. I trust in his judgement, and have relied upon him to tell me should he think I am putting myself or Starkhaven at risk. Should I start to act out of character, or show any signs of having been affected by blood magic, I do not doubt that Fenris will stop me.”

“What’s to say he won’t be thralled as well?”

“Not only does he have a great deal of experience of blood mages and the way they operate, and so know how to protect himself, but his brands grant him resistance to magic, including blood magic.” Sebastian took a breath, and looked to Fenris, “I would appoint Fenris to my side, to guard against the possibility I might be controlled or even swayed. The mages may be able to convince me of their plight, but they’ll have little luck with Fenris. I can personally vouch for his prowess in battle, and owe him my life several times over. I would give him rank, more than that of a mere bodyguard, and vow that I will listen should he disagree with any of my plans and actions. He would be an equal partner, and ensure that the mages will be dealt will in manner not like to put Starkhaven in danger.”

Fenris’s eyes widened at Sebastian’s proposal, and Yegor shook his head.

“An elf, moreover, an elf you brought into Starkhaven, is hardly a suitable candidate.”

“I think he is perfect.” Sebastian said, “No-one of Starkhaven knew me in Kirkwall, save him. No-one else will be able to read my mannerisms and tell if there is a change. You want someone to watch over me and make sure I have not been tainted by blood magics, well, he has been doing that for weeks now. And he is someone I will listen too, for I have the greatest respect for him.”

“This is ridiculous… We came here today to get Sebastian to stop meddling with the mages, not allow someone else to start.” Yegor complained, his fingers twitching to release the guards upon the prince, but so far unable.

“My meddling as you call it… what exactly do you take objection to? The Templar are happy, the magi are happy, and the townspeople are happy. Where is the issue?”

Yegor scowled, face screwed up tight, making his voice coarse “You risk Starkhaven! Trust the magi, and you will doom us all.”

Sebastian gestured to Fenris, fighting to keep from smiling in triumph.

Fenris looked to Yegor, then to Goren, and quietly spoke; “I do not trust mages.”

“Exactly.” Sebastian agreed.

Goren, his head seeming to sit heavy upon his shoulders, placed his chin over his bridged fingers, elbows propped upon the table. He waved the guards to stand down.

“That is enough. Yes, there are risks, but it seems that Sebastian has taken every possible measure to address and minimise them. He has the right of it, the people are happy, and surely that is not such a terrible thing. And Fenris, he seems like the sort likely to keep Sebastian in check.”

The words unspoken, more than you could ever hope to… hung in the air before the councillors, and Goren peered at Fenris.

“Do you accept mister Fenris? You’d share Sebastian’s responsibilities as chantry protector, and defend Starkhaven against blood magic, and should you have any concerns, I would expect you to report to myself and the council.”

Fenris shifted, but did not look to Sebastian. To do so would have undermined him as an independent partner. He nodded, “Yes.”

Goren sat back, and looked longingly to the door. “Well, that’s settled. I thank you for your time, and shall be keeping a close eye on the proceedings…” he made to dismiss the court, when to his side, more than a little disgruntled, folded his arms.

“It is still too much a danger….” He muttered, and Sebastian, surprisingly, gave a nod.

“You are quite correct, so I shall endeavour to hire and train more Templar, to ease your mind.”

“I suppose you’ll be wanting the coin to do so…” Ackles growled, hands clenched into fists against his thin chest.

“That shall not be necessary. The work the magi have been doing has been quite profitable. There is enough coin to not only keep the Templar and mages fed and warm, but also buy the lyrium supplies and provide the wages for the Templar. Of course, if you were to stop the mages going out and working… I would have to respectfully request the money from you. For sake of the city.”

Ackles made no attempt to hide his displeasure, as he was forced to concede. Again, there was no way he could refuse, Sebastian had made his case, and made it well.

Before any of his councillors could suffer the heart attack Sebastian seemed intent on inflicting upon each of them, Goren hastily called a close to the court council. Fenris, wearing a face that told he was going to have words with Sebastian, said nothing as he walked back to their house, only pausing to make sure Sebastian was following.

As the door clicked shut, he turned, not exactly angry, but more surprised, bewildered.

“You might have mentioned you intended to put me on the spot like that….”

“Your answers needed to be honest, and unrehearsed. They needed to hear the hatred in your voice; it reassured them that you would not go easy on the mages, nor be swayed by them.”

“You made me a partner!”

“You’ll be doing exactly the same work as you have been; only now you’ll get recognition. I only the council aware of the efforts you’ve made, and that with you at my side, they need not fret over blood magics or mage trickery. And,” Sebastian blinked slow, and meaningful, “I rather like the idea of being able to call you my partner in public….”

Fenris’s frown faltered, as he found it hard to stay cross with the archer. “You can be insufferably manipulative sometimes… Tell me, when did you decide I’d play such a part in your plan?”

“The night I thought of it.” Sebastian spoke through a smile, carefully tempered not to look too pleased with himself, “Everything I said was true Fenris, there is no-one I trust more, and should you ever disagree with me, I would want you speak your mind, and I shall listen, and together we will find a solution.”

“Oh? Then I feel I ought to mention, I have a serious issue with the way things currently stand…” Fenris’s eyes gleamed bright, as he started to share in Sebastian’s smile “You are not at this moment kissing me, and I’m afraid I have to object to that.”

“Well, allow me to remedy the problem.” Sebastian said, stepped forwards and kissed him, first gentle, then, as he felt the blood pulse within him, with slightly more pressure, mouthing against Fenris’s lips. Fenris’s eyes slid shut, and he pulled himself closer.

“However,” Sebastian said, breaking away, “I feel I should like more than kissing, nice as that is.”

Fenris looked over Sebastian, his gaze lingering on Sebastian’s groin, as if he could see the pulse of blood flooding the area. He licked his lips.

“I think…. We might be able to reach compromise….” He said, softly, before casually walking into the bedroom, trusting Sebastian to follow.

Sebastian’s eyes tore themselves from the sight of Fenris’s lean rear sauntering away, and cast them upwards.

“Maker… thank you….” He breathed quietly, then with more than a little hurry, went through to the bedroom, shutting the heavy door behind them.

 

****

In the following months, even though winter came creeping through the streets, Starkhaven found cheer in its new prosperity. Food was plentiful, thanks in part to the magi attending the grain silos and barns and ridding them of rats and mice, and keeping what food was harvested cool so it lasted long into the cold months. Fires burned strong, keeping both the smiths and craftsmen in work, as well as the streets clear of ice and snow. The populace lost their fear, slow but surely. There were more Templar, but hardly needed, as the people came to accept the mages, and the skills and talents they brought to the common folk. Managed by Sebastian, and stationed around the city rather than dogging the steps of a mage, the Templar had more time to themselves, and many found renewed faith in the Maker, spending their time helping in the chantry.

Due to the number of Templar now providing soup to the needy, or attending the tasks on the chantry board, the people came to see the men who wore the helms as more than faceless creatures who would cut down anything and anyone between them and an apostate. Slowly, the Templar became respected, and were greeting in the streets by smiles and warm acknowledgements.

There were some inns and taverns that held on to their prejudice, but the mages and Templars soon learnt to avoid such establishments, and take their coin elsewhere. Mostly, stall owners and businesses came to appreciate their new customers, whether they wore skirts and armour or robes.

The circle was soon finished, and the mages and Templars moved in from the dungeons. Dores, was made First Enchanter, by vote of the mages. Each person allowed their own set of rooms in the houses, Templar included. Space was set aside for magical experimentation, the Templar always on hand to dispel magic should the need arise. The people had no objection to the close proximity of the magi to their own homesteads, since mages had been granted free reign to wander the city, and no mishaps had occurred. A hospital was set up, within the grounds of the Starkhaven circle, so that the mages with a gift for healing could make well the peoples.

Word spread across the land and the Starkhaven circle became known as a place of sanctuary, mages going willingly to the circle to have a place free from the fear of the towns and cities. With more magi, and a greater range of talents to utilize, people started to come up with new ways for magic to serve, such as granting the city guards magical armour, or shaking the earth beneath two great stones to grind grain when the waterwheels were frozen in the winter.

Starkhaven thrived.

With great reluctance, the court council had to agree that Sebastian had done all he said he would, and more. There were no escapes to report, even though Sebastian himself had seen off one young male mage who was determined to return to his home, despite the risks he faced outside Starkhaven. Hardly an escape, when he’d been walked out the gates and given a small package of food and clothes and coin, and told he was welcome to return.

Sebastian, and Fenris, refused the offers from Goren to become councillors themselves, instead focusing on maintaining what they had achieved. They worked well together, Sebastian all smiles and coaxing, while Fenris was frim but fair in ensuring rules and boundaries were upheld. They continued to share a home, for ease of defence and consulting regularly, and were rarely found alone, the pair of them a much stronger force than either of them individually.

And so the magi, and the Templar, and the townsfolk, and Starkhaven itself, lived happily ever after.

The End

Notes:

And so we reach the end of the Loopholes series.

Notes:

This is a finished piece, that i will be uploading onto AO3 over the next few days. Enjoy!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Loopholes