Estella's fingers moved lightly over the lute's neck, pressing just enough on the strings to shorten the length and change the sound accordingly. The placements felt natural now; she could shift around on instinct rather than with slow, deliberate thought for each chord change, even on more complicated pieces like this one—a rich lullaby Rilien had referred to as a nocturne. She liked that; night music. It invoked a feeling of peace, of something being drawn to a sweet, slow conclusion, the notes themselves best held out just a tiny bit longer than the sheet music demanded, given that sleepy lassitude.
It wasn't quite time for Skyhold to go to sleep yet, though; the light coming in through the tower windows into the rookery was still mellow violet, darkening to indigo as the dusk faded into evening. The ravens and occasional pigeon had started to roost, the cawing and clacking of midafternoon traded for the rustling of feathers and the quiet coos brought on by full bellies and warm summer nights. She tried to let it lull her as well, but that was never so easy.
She couldn't deny that she felt lighter lately. It would be impossible not to, with Ves's recovery going so well, at least physically. He seemed to be doing all right from an emotional perspective as well, though she endeavored not to pry too much, and let things happen in the time and at the pace they needed to. Saraya's absence was still a palpable thing, even for her, but in time it would become easier not to notice constantly.
Time, however, was just the issue. Changing chords, Estella frowned when one of the notes sounded off, pausing and striking it again. Ah. Slightly out of tune, then. Stilling the strings with her palm, she shifted her other hand up the neck and turned the tuning peg a little, then tried again.
As much as she wanted to believe all of them had all the time in the world, she knew that the reality was they'd no doubt be facing Corypheus very soon, perhaps within a matter of weeks. Those weeks would definitely be all that some of the Inquisition had left to live. This was an indisputable fact, of the kind Rilien no doubt dealt with every day. She did, too, almost. At least lately. The final offers of support were coming in, and now they included ground troop estimates, people that would be coming to Skyhold or joining the march further down the mountains. Julien's household forces, as well as Julien himself, were already here; they'd had a nice time catching up yesterday. Unfortunately, preparations were ever more urgent. Only the late hour and her guilt for having so little time to spare for Rilien lately had torn her away from her own work to be here.
The note she wanted sounded, clear and pure, and she resumed the song, shifting her eyes to where her teacher worked at his desk. Many people had taught Estella things, but it was him that she would always consider her teacher. Just like Lucien would always be her Commander, perhaps, even if not literally anymore.
Rilien changed little, even as the years in his life increased. At nearly forty, he still looked almost exactly the same as he had at thirty-one, when first they met. Or perhaps he'd simply changed so gradually that he seemed the same. For surely there were signs there, a few thin lines appearing around his eyes that had once been elsewhere. Perhaps his tranquility, and the evenness of keel that came with it, had prevented anything more than that for now. His hair had always been white, and so it wouldn't grey out over time, either, leaving him a bit timeless, in a certain way.
He likely sensed her eyes on him, for he concluded his writing a few moments after she put them there, lifting his to meet them. “Your playing has become beautiful." His tone was almost warm, in that particular way that he had for her and perhaps her alone. His warmth for his other friends was different, and for Sparrow different again. A short pause, and then he amended his statement. “You have become beautiful." It was the most matter-of-fact statement, from him; he dropped his eyes momentarily to sort the paper away into a stack of them as though it warranted no special mention.
She'd been expecting some commentary on her playing, perhaps a mild reminder that she ought really have tuned the lute before she began to play, but certainly not an outright compliment. And not that. Rilien was sparing with his praise, and when he gave it, it was usually specific to a strike, or a song, or at most to a skill. Not to... not like this.
He didn't mean it as a comment about her appearance, of course. For all that his almost dandyish appearance might suggest otherwise, there wasn't a single thing about Rilien that was vain, or cared about other people's appearances. It could only be a remark about her character, and that was infinitely more flattering. Especially coming from someone who had never once in their entire eight-year acquaintance lied to her. "I... thank you." It seemed far too little to say in response to something so momentous, but it was all she could come up with in her surprise. Her fingers had stopped moving entirely, and she hadn't even noticed until now.
He nodded, an easy acceptance of the thanks, moving a few more papers around in deliberate fashion before he angled his chair to be facing her instead, drawing his legs up beneath him so that they were crossed. “I believe that you could succeed at most anything you should decide you wish to do. And I believe you will survive what comes for us. Have you given thought to what these things might mean for the future?" The way he angled his head slightly to the side suggested that he knew the answer already, but as was typical, he did not attempt to speak for her.
Also as was typical, his question cut right to the heart of something important. As precise with words as with knives. Estella sighed and set the lute aside, leaning it up against the side of the chair. "I've tried not to, so far," she admitted. That didn't means she'd been able to avoid it, though, and the topic had already come up once or twice, only to be deferred. "I'm not sure how smart it would be, to think about those things while Corypheus is still alive."
Defeating him was the purpose that united every single person here, and no small number elsewhere, too. And it was far from a guaranteed victory, either, so it seemed best just to... put all the energy she had for thinking about anything important into thinking about it.
"What about you?" This, at least, was something she'd kind of wondered about. "Will you be going back to Orlais after all this? To work for Com—er. Lucien?" It was very hard to think of him as "Emperor Lucien" still, and she had a feeling he'd prefer she use his name anyhow.
“I believe I will do so, eventually." It was hardly a surprising answer. Though he'd dedicated himself to the Inquisition's work with the same deliberate care he gave everything, Rilien had always been Lucien's intelligence man before he was anything—and it was only because Lucien had asked him to be here that he was. No doubt he would have helped anyway; he certainly understood the value of the cause, and had no few friends in the Inquisition, too. But that wasn't the same as what he did now. “There will come a time when he needs what I can do more than you do. The agents here know their tasks, and with enough time to select and prepare a replacement for myself, I do not anticipate many difficulties."
He settled his hands on his knees, regarding her evenly. “I can understand why it is difficult to think about the future now, but you must. As one of the leaders of this organization, you need to anticipate the challenges you will face in the times to come, and prepare for them as well as you are able. You have enemies. For now, we remain ahead of them, but that will get harder to do, when the task for which you came together is done, and the necessity of the Inquisition is no longer as obvious or politically convenient."
He was right, of course. But thinking about the future had just become a much more daunting task. Even if she'd been expecting him to go back to Orlais eventually, it was sort of another thing to hear him confirm it. She knew that a lot of this future-thinking, and protecting the Inquisition against the political maneuvers of its enemies, was something Rilien did now, in the shadows and with information as the weapon. She'd learned a lot of things from him, but Estella had no illusions that she was capable of that kind of subtlety. Knowing when to bluff, when to lie, and when to fold were things she could do perfectly well in Wicked Grace, but when it came to things with more complexity like this—she'd be hopeless.
"Do you think... I mean what if they're right?" She pursed her lips, mirroring his posture and trying to pick out exactly what she meant. "I know that from here it looks like the work will never be over. The Venatori won't disappear just because Corypheus does. I know we haven't gotten all the red lyrium yet either. But aren't those the kinds of things that other people can do? What's really left for us after Corypheus is gone?"
“Important questions." Rilien conceded this with a slight dip of his head. “But consider something. Was the Inquisition founded to hunt Venatori or red lyrium? Does it exist for the sole purpose of eliminating Corypheus? Is that what you would do no matter what it cost?"
No matter what it cost? That was a broad question, though not an especially hard one to answer. "No," she replied, shaking her head emphatically. "I mean, we'd do it at a lot of cost, but not absolutely anything."
It was clearly the answer Rilien had been expecting, because the follow-up was immediate. “What would you be unwilling to sacrifice?"
Out of absolutely anything? Estella pursed her lips. "Well, I mean... the obvious things, I guess. I wouldn't be willing to hurt innocent people to do it. Ones that hadn't volunteered for the fight, I mean. I wouldn't purge an Alienage." She didn't quite manage to avoid venom in the last words; thinking about that night still rankled her, made her itch underneath her skin. "Justice. I wouldn't give up justice. I wouldn't torture. There's always a better way than that. Always." She blinked, a little surprised by how certain she sounded. She'd always thought these things, but... maybe not in a form she was so willing to express so stridently.
One of those faint smiles appeared on Rilien's face, then, softening his sharp contours and making him look for once a little more like an elf of his age. “And does the death of Corypheus ensure that there will always be justice?"
"Of course not." Estella exhaled. It seemed she had her answer about that much, at least. But still: it was hardly complete. "But I don't think other countries would really appreciate us fixing their injustices, if that was even something we could do. We can't just... get a party of the Irregulars together and go... I don't know. Overturn bad laws or force people to listen to the voiceless." If they even tried that, they'd be exactly the malignant foreign influence many in Orlais and Ferelden already accused them of being.
A soft gust of air left Rilien, almost amusement. “No. That you could not do. But power and influence are not so simple as weapons and the bodies to wield them. You will be heroes to Thedas. There are many who will bend ear to you for that alone. And your work has made you friends as well as enemies, friends who might be able to act more directly than you can. You will always be armed with information, even when I am no longer responsible for its provision. This I promise you. What you need to decide is how best to make use of what you will have, and to what aims the Inquisition will apply itself."
The way he talked about it, she could almost see it happening. It would be so very different from what they did now, but also... a natural progression in a way. What did an engine of war do when there was no more war to fight? Surely the thing to do was find a way to repurpose the parts, to do the best they could to advance their ideals and their causes without drawing steel. No doubt it would be a long, slow process to learn, but—but she could see herself doing it. Doing this. Maybe for the rest of her life.
She certainly couldn't imagine being anywhere else anymore. As wonderful as her time with the Lions had been, Estella knew she just wasn't a mercenary anymore. She couldn't go back to it; it wouldn't feel like it fit. Part of her was afraid of that. "I just barely feel like I have this part under control," she admitted. "And now it looks like I have to be something different again. I don't know if I have another big change like that in me."
“Then it is fortunate for you that it would not be a big change." Rilien blinked at her, one eyebrow quirking almost too subtly to notice. Behind him one of the crows adjusted herself, burying her head under a wing. “I have known you since you were barely more than a girl, Estella. And I consider it a good thing for us all that you are in essence the same person you were then."
She scoffed softly, letting her legs fall back down so her feet were solid on the ground. "You can't be serious. I think about that girl and I barely recognize her as me. I'm not saying I'm suddenly amazing or anything, but I was so—" She sighed harshly. "Lost. Afraid. Helpless. And honestly pretty useless." Even thinking back on it almost made her cringe. She'd hated the person she was then. Hated herself, in a deep, terrible way that had required a lot of work to even begin to repair. And while she could probably still stand to be a little more confident and brave and any number of other things... she liked to think she'd come a long way.
“And willing to listen. And empathetic. And curious. And fundamentally good-hearted. The last is a trait I recognize, even if I understand it poorly." He paused, studying her face. “I did not say you had not changed at all. Only that your essence is the same. It will weather what comes. You will see."
His confidence warmed her, even if she didn't quite share it. That at least was nothing new. "Are you going to tell me that all I have to do is keep trying?" It was a profound oversimplification of the advice he'd offered on a day what seemed like a lifetime ago, the same day he'd given her the sword she still wore almost all the time at her hip. It felt like part of her now, honestly.
“You are beyond the need for such advice. Nothing you could do would disappoint me, Estella." He stood, offering a hand so that she could do the same, holding his other just far enough apart from his body that she could recognize the invitation in it.
It was one she gladly accepted, stepping into his embrace and winding her arms around him in turn. Her sigh was soft, contented. "I'll miss you, when you go."
Rilien stroked one hand down her hair. “I will never be far."
It wasn't quite time for Skyhold to go to sleep yet, though; the light coming in through the tower windows into the rookery was still mellow violet, darkening to indigo as the dusk faded into evening. The ravens and occasional pigeon had started to roost, the cawing and clacking of midafternoon traded for the rustling of feathers and the quiet coos brought on by full bellies and warm summer nights. She tried to let it lull her as well, but that was never so easy.
She couldn't deny that she felt lighter lately. It would be impossible not to, with Ves's recovery going so well, at least physically. He seemed to be doing all right from an emotional perspective as well, though she endeavored not to pry too much, and let things happen in the time and at the pace they needed to. Saraya's absence was still a palpable thing, even for her, but in time it would become easier not to notice constantly.
Time, however, was just the issue. Changing chords, Estella frowned when one of the notes sounded off, pausing and striking it again. Ah. Slightly out of tune, then. Stilling the strings with her palm, she shifted her other hand up the neck and turned the tuning peg a little, then tried again.
As much as she wanted to believe all of them had all the time in the world, she knew that the reality was they'd no doubt be facing Corypheus very soon, perhaps within a matter of weeks. Those weeks would definitely be all that some of the Inquisition had left to live. This was an indisputable fact, of the kind Rilien no doubt dealt with every day. She did, too, almost. At least lately. The final offers of support were coming in, and now they included ground troop estimates, people that would be coming to Skyhold or joining the march further down the mountains. Julien's household forces, as well as Julien himself, were already here; they'd had a nice time catching up yesterday. Unfortunately, preparations were ever more urgent. Only the late hour and her guilt for having so little time to spare for Rilien lately had torn her away from her own work to be here.
The note she wanted sounded, clear and pure, and she resumed the song, shifting her eyes to where her teacher worked at his desk. Many people had taught Estella things, but it was him that she would always consider her teacher. Just like Lucien would always be her Commander, perhaps, even if not literally anymore.
Rilien changed little, even as the years in his life increased. At nearly forty, he still looked almost exactly the same as he had at thirty-one, when first they met. Or perhaps he'd simply changed so gradually that he seemed the same. For surely there were signs there, a few thin lines appearing around his eyes that had once been elsewhere. Perhaps his tranquility, and the evenness of keel that came with it, had prevented anything more than that for now. His hair had always been white, and so it wouldn't grey out over time, either, leaving him a bit timeless, in a certain way.
He likely sensed her eyes on him, for he concluded his writing a few moments after she put them there, lifting his to meet them. “Your playing has become beautiful." His tone was almost warm, in that particular way that he had for her and perhaps her alone. His warmth for his other friends was different, and for Sparrow different again. A short pause, and then he amended his statement. “You have become beautiful." It was the most matter-of-fact statement, from him; he dropped his eyes momentarily to sort the paper away into a stack of them as though it warranted no special mention.
She'd been expecting some commentary on her playing, perhaps a mild reminder that she ought really have tuned the lute before she began to play, but certainly not an outright compliment. And not that. Rilien was sparing with his praise, and when he gave it, it was usually specific to a strike, or a song, or at most to a skill. Not to... not like this.
He didn't mean it as a comment about her appearance, of course. For all that his almost dandyish appearance might suggest otherwise, there wasn't a single thing about Rilien that was vain, or cared about other people's appearances. It could only be a remark about her character, and that was infinitely more flattering. Especially coming from someone who had never once in their entire eight-year acquaintance lied to her. "I... thank you." It seemed far too little to say in response to something so momentous, but it was all she could come up with in her surprise. Her fingers had stopped moving entirely, and she hadn't even noticed until now.
He nodded, an easy acceptance of the thanks, moving a few more papers around in deliberate fashion before he angled his chair to be facing her instead, drawing his legs up beneath him so that they were crossed. “I believe that you could succeed at most anything you should decide you wish to do. And I believe you will survive what comes for us. Have you given thought to what these things might mean for the future?" The way he angled his head slightly to the side suggested that he knew the answer already, but as was typical, he did not attempt to speak for her.
Also as was typical, his question cut right to the heart of something important. As precise with words as with knives. Estella sighed and set the lute aside, leaning it up against the side of the chair. "I've tried not to, so far," she admitted. That didn't means she'd been able to avoid it, though, and the topic had already come up once or twice, only to be deferred. "I'm not sure how smart it would be, to think about those things while Corypheus is still alive."
Defeating him was the purpose that united every single person here, and no small number elsewhere, too. And it was far from a guaranteed victory, either, so it seemed best just to... put all the energy she had for thinking about anything important into thinking about it.
"What about you?" This, at least, was something she'd kind of wondered about. "Will you be going back to Orlais after all this? To work for Com—er. Lucien?" It was very hard to think of him as "Emperor Lucien" still, and she had a feeling he'd prefer she use his name anyhow.
“I believe I will do so, eventually." It was hardly a surprising answer. Though he'd dedicated himself to the Inquisition's work with the same deliberate care he gave everything, Rilien had always been Lucien's intelligence man before he was anything—and it was only because Lucien had asked him to be here that he was. No doubt he would have helped anyway; he certainly understood the value of the cause, and had no few friends in the Inquisition, too. But that wasn't the same as what he did now. “There will come a time when he needs what I can do more than you do. The agents here know their tasks, and with enough time to select and prepare a replacement for myself, I do not anticipate many difficulties."
He settled his hands on his knees, regarding her evenly. “I can understand why it is difficult to think about the future now, but you must. As one of the leaders of this organization, you need to anticipate the challenges you will face in the times to come, and prepare for them as well as you are able. You have enemies. For now, we remain ahead of them, but that will get harder to do, when the task for which you came together is done, and the necessity of the Inquisition is no longer as obvious or politically convenient."
He was right, of course. But thinking about the future had just become a much more daunting task. Even if she'd been expecting him to go back to Orlais eventually, it was sort of another thing to hear him confirm it. She knew that a lot of this future-thinking, and protecting the Inquisition against the political maneuvers of its enemies, was something Rilien did now, in the shadows and with information as the weapon. She'd learned a lot of things from him, but Estella had no illusions that she was capable of that kind of subtlety. Knowing when to bluff, when to lie, and when to fold were things she could do perfectly well in Wicked Grace, but when it came to things with more complexity like this—she'd be hopeless.
"Do you think... I mean what if they're right?" She pursed her lips, mirroring his posture and trying to pick out exactly what she meant. "I know that from here it looks like the work will never be over. The Venatori won't disappear just because Corypheus does. I know we haven't gotten all the red lyrium yet either. But aren't those the kinds of things that other people can do? What's really left for us after Corypheus is gone?"
“Important questions." Rilien conceded this with a slight dip of his head. “But consider something. Was the Inquisition founded to hunt Venatori or red lyrium? Does it exist for the sole purpose of eliminating Corypheus? Is that what you would do no matter what it cost?"
No matter what it cost? That was a broad question, though not an especially hard one to answer. "No," she replied, shaking her head emphatically. "I mean, we'd do it at a lot of cost, but not absolutely anything."
It was clearly the answer Rilien had been expecting, because the follow-up was immediate. “What would you be unwilling to sacrifice?"
Out of absolutely anything? Estella pursed her lips. "Well, I mean... the obvious things, I guess. I wouldn't be willing to hurt innocent people to do it. Ones that hadn't volunteered for the fight, I mean. I wouldn't purge an Alienage." She didn't quite manage to avoid venom in the last words; thinking about that night still rankled her, made her itch underneath her skin. "Justice. I wouldn't give up justice. I wouldn't torture. There's always a better way than that. Always." She blinked, a little surprised by how certain she sounded. She'd always thought these things, but... maybe not in a form she was so willing to express so stridently.
One of those faint smiles appeared on Rilien's face, then, softening his sharp contours and making him look for once a little more like an elf of his age. “And does the death of Corypheus ensure that there will always be justice?"
"Of course not." Estella exhaled. It seemed she had her answer about that much, at least. But still: it was hardly complete. "But I don't think other countries would really appreciate us fixing their injustices, if that was even something we could do. We can't just... get a party of the Irregulars together and go... I don't know. Overturn bad laws or force people to listen to the voiceless." If they even tried that, they'd be exactly the malignant foreign influence many in Orlais and Ferelden already accused them of being.
A soft gust of air left Rilien, almost amusement. “No. That you could not do. But power and influence are not so simple as weapons and the bodies to wield them. You will be heroes to Thedas. There are many who will bend ear to you for that alone. And your work has made you friends as well as enemies, friends who might be able to act more directly than you can. You will always be armed with information, even when I am no longer responsible for its provision. This I promise you. What you need to decide is how best to make use of what you will have, and to what aims the Inquisition will apply itself."
The way he talked about it, she could almost see it happening. It would be so very different from what they did now, but also... a natural progression in a way. What did an engine of war do when there was no more war to fight? Surely the thing to do was find a way to repurpose the parts, to do the best they could to advance their ideals and their causes without drawing steel. No doubt it would be a long, slow process to learn, but—but she could see herself doing it. Doing this. Maybe for the rest of her life.
She certainly couldn't imagine being anywhere else anymore. As wonderful as her time with the Lions had been, Estella knew she just wasn't a mercenary anymore. She couldn't go back to it; it wouldn't feel like it fit. Part of her was afraid of that. "I just barely feel like I have this part under control," she admitted. "And now it looks like I have to be something different again. I don't know if I have another big change like that in me."
“Then it is fortunate for you that it would not be a big change." Rilien blinked at her, one eyebrow quirking almost too subtly to notice. Behind him one of the crows adjusted herself, burying her head under a wing. “I have known you since you were barely more than a girl, Estella. And I consider it a good thing for us all that you are in essence the same person you were then."
She scoffed softly, letting her legs fall back down so her feet were solid on the ground. "You can't be serious. I think about that girl and I barely recognize her as me. I'm not saying I'm suddenly amazing or anything, but I was so—" She sighed harshly. "Lost. Afraid. Helpless. And honestly pretty useless." Even thinking back on it almost made her cringe. She'd hated the person she was then. Hated herself, in a deep, terrible way that had required a lot of work to even begin to repair. And while she could probably still stand to be a little more confident and brave and any number of other things... she liked to think she'd come a long way.
“And willing to listen. And empathetic. And curious. And fundamentally good-hearted. The last is a trait I recognize, even if I understand it poorly." He paused, studying her face. “I did not say you had not changed at all. Only that your essence is the same. It will weather what comes. You will see."
His confidence warmed her, even if she didn't quite share it. That at least was nothing new. "Are you going to tell me that all I have to do is keep trying?" It was a profound oversimplification of the advice he'd offered on a day what seemed like a lifetime ago, the same day he'd given her the sword she still wore almost all the time at her hip. It felt like part of her now, honestly.
“You are beyond the need for such advice. Nothing you could do would disappoint me, Estella." He stood, offering a hand so that she could do the same, holding his other just far enough apart from his body that she could recognize the invitation in it.
It was one she gladly accepted, stepping into his embrace and winding her arms around him in turn. Her sigh was soft, contented. "I'll miss you, when you go."
Rilien stroked one hand down her hair. “I will never be far."