Primula Vulgaris - annoyingsacher - Dragon Age: Inquisition [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Prologue

Chapter Text

In the woods that marked the western edge of the Outskirts, the sun was shining at the highest point in the sky, scattering its rays softly through a dense web of yellowing leaves.

A fresh scent of wet grass wafted overhead, boldly blending with the mentholated elfroot stench, typical of that area of the Hinterlands. These smells covered egregiously the fetor caused by the large numbers of rams that had been driven there by the conflict between Mages and Templars that was enraging in the surrounding pastures.

As a matter of fact, the typical sounds of autumn blooming in the forest were often disturbed by the clangor of steel and the roaring of sudden summoning, which even the dense vegetation of shrubs and evergreen trees could not screen properly.

In the middle of that landscape, which was everything but bucolic, a young boy was running at breakneck speed along a sloping path surrounded by heather bushes and the remains of ancient Avaar totems eaten away by time and moss. He obsessively looked over his shoulder in terror, which caused him to stumble frequently, although it was clear he was following a direction he knew.

In fact, when he spotted a thicket of chestnut trees at the end of the path, his gaze took on a clear tinge of relief.

He quickened his pace, slaloming through the remnants of a recent landslide until he reached a piece of cultivated land that preceded a modest, wood-built, round farmhouse.

He crashed into the front door, thinking it was open.

-Open up, it's me!- he yelled, pounding his fists onto the surface. He took a quick glance over his shoulder for the last time, then knocked more vehemently.

Once the door was opened, he found himself confronted by the astonished gaze of a little girl half his height. He dodged her and dashed inside, heading straight for a trunk at the bottom of an undone double bed.

-Where's mom?- the girl asked, reaching for him with an uncertain look.

In the meantime, the boy had spread a cotton sheet on the floor and proceeded to gather over it everything he and his sister might need for their escape. -Hurry! Close the door!- he ordered, chasing her away with an agitated gesture.

The girl hesitated, then did what she was asked.

-We'll wait until they're gone, then we'll go to our grandparents in Honnleath.- the boy announced, after knotting the edges of the sheet to make a bundle. -Have you locked the door?-

The little girl nodded nervously then sidled up to her brother, clutching the sleeve of his coat for reassurance.

The boy gave her an unconvincing smile, then hugged her. -It'll be fine. I'll take care of...-

He immediately shut up as he heard the sound of running footsteps from the outside.

He pushed his sister back behind the bed, motioning her to be quiet, then retrieved a hunting knife from the trunk and brandished it menacingly towards the front door.

It wasn't long before whoever was outside made themselves known. -Hey there! Anybody home?- croaked a male voice.

The boy's face turned into a mask of fear and every inch of his body began to tremble, unable to respond firmly to danger.

-Are you sure you saw him walking in there?- a female voice asked.

Her companion ignored the question. -I know you're inside! We're not going to hurt you, we just need supplies.- he shouted, surrounded by mischievous laughs.

The little girl leaned out of her hiding spot, giving her brother a look of insecurity. He forced her to take cover with a sharp gesture of his free hand.

After a few seconds of silence, which seemed like an eternity to the inhabitants of the house, an annoyed sigh was heard on the other side of the door. -Should we break it open?- the woman asked.

No reply. None that he could hear, at least.

The boy was so tense that he could see his surroundings trembling as if he were inside a furnace. He could distinctly hear the sound of continuous footsteps around the building, a clue that the attackers were searching the perimeter for an alternative point of access.

The little girl flinched in response to a sharp thud on the wall behind the bed. Frightened, she left her hiding spot and ran for cover behind her brother, clinging tightly to him. The boy, who no longer knew how to respond to the situation at hand, gave in to a silent cry, dropping the knife to embrace his little sister.

Suddenly, coils of smoke began to emerge from the gaps between the planks that reinforced the walls, accompanied by the crackling sound of the fire lapping against the wood.

-See how he opens up now!- the male voice barked, supported by shouts of approval and laughter.

The little girl began to cough loudly, while her brother explored the house with eyes full of terror, desperately looking for a way out. -Maker, help me! Andraste, guide me!- he pleaded, passing a hand over his sister's head for comfort.

Seeing that the both of them were not going to last long in such a scenario, he retrieved the keys from the child's hands and pounced towards the door, trying to open it. Unfortunately, he was forced to withdraw his hand from the lock, shaking it to relieve the burning pain.

-Blessed Andraste!- he yelped, trying one more time only to fail again.

He winced in response to a sudden dull thud beyond the doorway.

He backed away instinctively, for in addition to the overwhelming noise of the fire there were other sounds, clearly related to a fight.

He narrowed his eyelids, trying to identify the sounds he was hearing. There were shouting interlaced in a cacophony of steel colliding with steel, and multiple dry explosions probably caused by the action of several summonings.

The boy's eyes widened as he returned to his sister to hold her in his arms.

He hesitated for only a moment, then headed to the door again. -We must take advantage of it!- he exclaimed breathingly, as he started to kick the lock using all the strength he had left.

Unfortunately, this operation was ineffective, because the door was too much of an adversary for his legs, which were already sore because of the long running and stiff from tension. He continued anyway, because he had no other option.

He raged at it, roared at it, with tear-filled eyes. -Andraste please help us!- he cried.

In response to his prayers, a good portion of the wall on his right exploded, making the little girl scream in fear.

Amidst the thick smoke and the dust swirling in the air, the little boy seemed to catch a glimpse of the thin silhouette of a woman, armed with a bow.

He blinked, then he immediately ran to retrieve the knife from the ground, to point it menacingly in her direction.

Despite the boy's expectations, the woman sheathed her weapon and raised her hands. -It's all right, mate! We're Inquisition.- she reassured him, in a high-pitched tone.

After hearing that name, which certainly didn't have a comforting connotation, the young boy hesitated; however, he soon realized he had no other options but to oblige. So he hurried to the lady, allowing her to rescue his sister and he.

Once outside, he found himself squinting at the intensity of the sunlight, and the invasive presence of smoke in the atmosphere. He tried to focus on his rescuer, who was leading him and his sister to the edge of a heated fight that seemed unequal to the newcomers.

The metal of the woman's helmet caught the sunlight in a half moon that defined just a bright outline, preventing the boy from identifying her facial features.

Finally brought to safety, the woman leaned over the boy, resting a hand on his shoulder. -Stay put.- she suggested, looking him straight in the eye. For a moment, before their rescuer left, the boy thought he saw a flicker of light traveling across her corneas, but it was such a quick flash that he decided not to trust his vision.

He caressed the back of his sister's head to reassure her, then crouched alongside her behind the trunk of an old chestnut tree.

When his vision was able to describe his surroundings, he noticed that the lady archer was flanked only by three companions in arms: a dwarven crossbowman, an elven mage and a human warrior. Amazingly, they were standing up to a brigade of at least a dozen bounty hunters.

The mage was conjuring spells with the grace and decisiveness of a musical conductor; the dwarf, on the other hand, had a more hasty approach to weapons, controlling the perimeter of the fight with precise crossbow strikes; last - but only because her presence was constantly suffocated by enemies - the warrior was fighting with fluidity and steadiness, linking parries and evasions with the dexterity of a master swordsman.

The woman who had saved the boy and his sister, on the other hand, was seen on the battlefield only through the number of enemies she was taking down.

Most of them simply fell to the ground, as if they fainted. It was only later that one could see the arrows that had hit them.

From time to time the boy seemed to catch a glimpse of a silhouette hovering at the edge of the battlefield, but as soon as he turned around it disappeared, magically teleported somewhere else.

It wasn't a long fight, or a particularly bloody one, but of all the battles the boy had witnessed over the last few days, it would be the most memorable.

Once the area was secured, the woman reappeared, marching briskly towards the kids she had rescued.

The boy lifted his head in that direction, eyeing her up. Her helmet was topped with a dragon in mid-flight, and she was dressed in medium leather armor, dyed in the same warm colors of the wood around them. She was pinching the string of a longbow, on which an arrow was stuck, and looked around cautiously.

-Thank you.- the boy said, holding his little sister, who was looking at their savior in awe.

Once she arrived, the lady stared at them for a moment. Then, she sheathed her weapons to replace them with a flask filled with water that she handed to the girl. -Sorry about the wall.- she said.

After clearing her throat of its parchment, the little girl pushed her hair back so she could get a good look at her interlocutor. -Who are you?- she asked.

The woman seemed to think about the answer, then took off the helmet.

Surprised, the two of them stared at the intricate, oak-like, Vallaslin covering her squared face, sunburnt on the cheeks and the nose. Then, they shifted their gaze to her knife-edged ears. They were well exposed, as was the gold flat piercing of her left ear, for the woman wore her antivan blond hair tied back at the top of her head.

Her jade green eyes reciprocated the attention with an analytical character, so hungry for details that they appeared to be in motion all the time.

But once her hunger for information had been satisfied, she gave the children a good-natured smile. -I'm the construction inspector.- she replied, cheerfully.

*

With nothing left to claim as their own, except the clothes they were wearing, the boy and his sister found themselves squatting in a tent with other similarly displaced people.

It was a temporary shelter, part of a camp built in the Crossroads area protected and controlled by the soldiers of the Inquisition, who provided a safe harbor for the victims of the war before they could resume what was left of their lives.

Lavellan was sitting on a stool in front of the bunk on which the boy had laid his younger sister - very asleep - a few moments before. She was peeling an apple with a hunting knife the size of her forearm. -Well, that was close.- she said, stabbing a wedge with the tip of the knife, then stretching it out towards her interlocutor.

The boy, who had just taken a seat on the edge of the mattress, picked up the food hesitantly.

Lavellan led by example, taking a bite out of the fruit and showing it to him. -Last apple of the summer. You better take advantage of it.- she suggested, with her mouth full.

Her interlocutor thought about it, staring at her suspiciously, then finished the slice in a mouthful, more out of hunger than gratitude. -Where are you taking us?- he asked her, after a few moments of contemplation.

-It depends on where you'd want to go.- Lavellan answered, cutting another slice for herself. -But I suggest you stick around the Crossroads for a while longer. We still have to finish to clear the area off the rifts.-

-Those green things by the lake?-

-That one in particular is gone.- she specified, handing him over the entire apple. -Yes, anyway. The green things the demons are after. They're all over Thedas.-

-Even Honnleath?-

-Probably.-

The boy casted a worried glance at the ground. -So there is no safe place.- he deduced, fear cracking his voice.

Lavellan crossed her legs in a fluid gesture, leaning towards him as she placed the elbow on her knee. -I'm working on it, mate. Give me a break.- she reassured him with a smirk. -Is your family there?-

-My grandparents.- he replied, his eyes glazed with tears.

-Can you write them a letter?-

The boy shook his head.

Lavellan took some time to observe him, then sheathed her knife, replacing it with a sheet of parchment paper and a charcoal. -Tell me their names, so I can ask Corporal Vale to look them up for you later. If they are in good health, wait until the western road is clear, then join the first caravan you can find.- she then retrieved three silver sovereigns from a pouch on her belt and handed them to him.

The boy picked them up, clenching them in his fist. -Greystone. Their name is Greystone.- he revealed. He swallowed the last bite of the apple, waiting for her to finish writing before opening his mouth again. -What if we are the only ones left?-

Lavellan folded the note carefully, and pocketed it. -In that case, you should head south, towards the Winterwatch Tower. Your sister will be safe there.-

The boy glared at her. -She is safer without me.- he declared.

Lavellan arched an eyebrow emphasizing a skeptical expression. -But she'd be alone.-

-She’d find someone better to defend her. I'm useless!- the boy blurted out, tossing the apple core to the ground. -I led them straight to our house and failed to reassure her when she needed it.- he paused, wiping his eyes with a sharp gesture. -I'm a horrible big brother.-

Lavellan leaned over to pick up the apple, then sought eye contact with her interlocutor. -There were fifteen of them, and among those there were professional bounty hunters.- she told him in a firm voice.

-I should have ran faster, led them elsewhere.-

-You couldn't have done it.-

-I should have tried.-

-So now your sister would be on her own.-

-And it would be for the better!-

-Would it be better for you, or for her?-

The boy fell silent, shifting his gaze elsewhere.

Lavellan sighed. -Listen, I get it, but sometimes we just have to accept our mistakes and save what we've learned from them for another time.- she said, handing him the apple's core. -None of us is prepared for everything.-

-You are! You saved us from the fire and you killed those bandits.-

Lavellan smiled. -Because I'm used to it, but if you asked me to make a crocheted quilt, I'd end up sewing my hands together.-

-It's not exactly the same thing.-

-Have you ever seen how sharp those things are?-

The boy gave her a skeptical look, then picked up the core, nibbling on it. -How am I supposed to keep her safe if I can't even protect her in my own house?-

Lavellan widened her smile, giving it a heartening tinge. -The true sense of security is more than knowing how to hold a sword. It comes from reciprocity.-

-Reciprocity?-

-She has to count on you just like you have to count on her.- Lavellan explained. -If she were alone, who would pick her up when her legs are too tired? And what would you do without anyone to embrace when you feel like the entire world is against you? As long as you are together, you will always be safe.-

The boy looked at her for a long time, then sighed. -Fine.- he said, making an effort to smile back. -I'll give it a thought.-

Lavellan ruffled his hair, then stood up again. -I'm sure you will.- she said, then walked towards the exit.

The boy’s eyes followed her until she disappeared, then they moved to look at the apple core, blackened by fingerprints. That conversation had given him a lot to think about for sure, but somehow it managed to give him a little bit of comfort.

-The Herald of Andraste saved me, too.- a very old lady, lying on a camp bed nearby, intervened.

The boy frowned. -The Herald of Andraste? - he echoed.

She nodded, slowly. -The nice lady you just argued with. She's the Herald of Andraste.-

He immediately pulled on a surprised expression, and stared at the exit with eyes wide open. Without giving it a second thought, he ran outside to reach his savior.

He spun around, exploring the maze of tents that surrounded him. But she had vanished, just like she did a few hours earlier on the battlefield.

-So you really did help us.- he murmured, opening a smile of astonishment between his lips as he looked up to the sky.

Chapter 2: In Common

Chapter Text

The leaders of the Inquisition were busy reading documents in silence when Lavellan pointed at the southern Ferelden on the tactical map.

-Honnleath should be approximately here, shouldn't it?- she asked, without addressing anyone in particular.

Leliana answered her, after placing the report she was studying back into Cassandra's hands. -No, it's actually much further north than the Korcari Wilds.- she said, reaching her across the table. She tapped her index finger a couple of times on the map. -Here, not far from the lakes' district.-

Cullen lifted his eyes from the note Josephine was showing him, then looked at the map with concern. -You're wrong.- he intervened, before joining them. -It's not that far north. You're pointing at the countryside.-

Leliana frowned, as her colleague placed a metal marker over an area far away from the one she had signaled. -Are you sure?-

Cullen just glanced at her. -I grew up near there, I would say I'm more than sure.-

Lavellan took some time to mentally determine the distance between the marker and Haven, then turned to her colleague. -How far will it be from here? Six, seven hours on horseback?- she asked, seeking confirmation.

-Way less, actually.- Cullen replied, staring at her with genuine interest. -Why?-

-Because I'd like to get there.-

-That I guessed, but why?-

Lavellan looked back at the map. -Corporal Vale told me that no one has been able to contact the family of the two kids we rescued last week. I thought I'd give it a try, since we have a day of breathing space before we leave again.-

Cullen's eyes lingered on her face for a long time before he answered, as if he was looking for an tactful and concise way to introduce a situation difficult to stomach. -Honnleath was within the trajectory of the Darkspawn horde during the Blight. It is very likely that their relatives are no longer there, either because they've relocated, or because they're dead.-

-I'd like to check anyway. Maybe the locals can give us some more information.-

-Your Worship, there aren't any "locals" left there. Only one third of West Hills territory is still intact after the Blight.-

-Then I'll look for clues and track them down some other way.-

-I could send a scout team.- Leliana suggested.

-No, I'd rather take the matter into my own hands.- said Lavellan. -Do you know how to get there?- she asked, addressing Cullen.

The latter narrowed his eyes over a doubtful look, before nodding. -I can draw you a map.-

-Or… you could come with me?-

The whole group, even those who had not intervened, turned their attention to him.

-This is not a good idea. - Cullen said.

-It is, to me.- Lavellan said confidently.

-I strongly disagree.-

Cassandra, who was consulting the daily agenda, arched an eyebrow. -What a surprise.- she commented, dryly.

Before Cullen could articulate a more heartfelt protest, Lavellan placed a hand on his back and guided him out of the room, accompanying their exit with a -See you tomorrow.-

*

Once they reached the foothills of the Frostback Mountains, the white landscape became ashen with the dryness of the harsh southern Ferelden winter.

The carcasses of the dead leaves that had fallen during the autumn carpeted a muddy, bristling path of pebbles embedded in the ground.

A line of Haven-bound refugees observed with envy the two horsem*n riding in their opposite direction, since they could avoid getting soaked in knee-deep cold, muddy mush.

-Oh, is this some healthy silence I'm hearing, at last?- jested Lavellan, with every intention of provoking Cullen, who was riding beside her.

He threw her an unhappy look. -Do you have any idea how many obligations I had to delegate for this outing?-

-Yes.- she replied, quite entertained by his grumpiness.

-You could have asked anyone else.-

-But I didn't want anyone else.- she replied, presenting him with a grin.

-Come on, your second-in-command will do just fine in your absence.-

-The Captain is supposed to take my place exceptionally, certainly not for...-

-An outing, you’ve already said that.- she interrupted him. -And I’ve already replied twice that I don't give a damn. That boy has nothing left, only a lot of responsibilities. If he still has a living relative, they need to find each other.-

Cullen swallowed a protest in the bud, to prevent his complaints from turning into a full-blown litany. He limited himself to manifesting his feelings towards the situation by emitting a long sound of disapproval, then he took the head of the line, while Lavellan watched him with a hint of satisfaction in her gaze.

Two hours went by before the horses showed the first signs of fatigue.

The landscape changed from woodland to countryside. Short patches of beech trees intertwined with plots of land dedicated to the cultivation of wheat and hops, enriching the winter grayness with a delicate shade of golden green.

It was just past lunchtime, the hottest time of the day, but the sun remained well hidden above a thick curtain of violet clouds, indicating to the travelers that it was about to rain.

They stopped at the foot of an iron hill, where Lavellan had spotted a small stream of water clean enough for the animals to drink and graze on some grass to restore their energy.

-It shouldn't take long to reach the hills.- Cullen announced, looking at the horizon grimly.

Before reaching him with a flask of water, Lavellan glanced over his traveling clothes, then lingered on his face which showed concern. -I don't believe all is lost.- she said, while he was drinking. -It may be that the villages have been rebuilt after the threat has passed.-

Cullen wiped his lips with a corner of the handkerchief he was wearing around his neck, then let out a deep sigh that exuded resignation. -The Blight doesn't end with the death of an Archdemon.- he said, returning the flask. He lifted his handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth, indicating her to follow his example. -You'll see it yourself.-

When Lavellan saw what Cullen had merely introduced, she told herself that his words had failed to do justice to the profound change that had been imposed on the land.

The ground on the old mule track they were traveling through had the color and texture of cinders, while the soil of the fields all around was so barren that it appeared wounded by a web of deep cracks. The smell that could be perceived was moldy and stagnant, like the one produced by the pages of a book that is reopened centuries after its creation. The few puddles of water that were present appeared black, dense, and viscous and a pungent odor of putridity emerged from them.

What upset Lavellan the most, however, was the silence resulting from the total lack of any form of organic life. The trees were dark and withered, as if they had been drained of all their lymph. In addition, her gaze could not detect any traces of parasitic vegetation such as moss and fungi, suggesting to her that nature had surrendered to death.

Lavellan dismounted her horse, looking around in complete astonishment, unable to make sense of what she was seeing. For her, who believed in the change of matter, witnessing the cycle of nature being interrupted in such a drastic way was a shock.

Noticing that she had stopped, Cullen turned around and brought his horse alongside hers to meet the target of her attention.

In the middle of what once could have been a lush cornfield, there was a chasind idol made of straw and covered with wreaths of dried twigs and white cloth flowers. Its face had the features of a bear and was encircled by an assortment of corpses in various stages of decomposition, from skeleton to meat dummy, gathered there so that the deity depicted by the idol could lead them to safety in the afterlife. Evidently, the land was so sick that it prevented any kind of burial, or the erection of a pyre, therefore those bodies were forced to rest like that, with the sky as a shelter.

-Corruption consumes the earth from its foundation.- said Cullen, his voice muffled by fabric. His words, however, echoed like a round of applause in an empty theater room. -This is the price we must pay for breaking the Maker's trust.-

Lavellan arranged the handkerchief nervously over her nose as she threw him an astonished look. -Do you think this is a divine punishment?-

-A punishment that matches the crime committed.-

-No crime is worth this kind of punishment.-

Cullen took a few moments to run his gaze over the desolation that surrounded them, then urged to continue. -Come on, I'll show you where I was born.- he said, with a total lack of enthusiasm in his voice.

Lavellan hesitated just a second, then mounted her horse again, hurrying to catch up.

The trail ended at a junction. In the middle of it stood the remains of what once should have been a directional sign, but after the Blight it had become an eerie skewer of Hurlock skulls.

Topping it off there was a sculpture made of halla antlers, adorned with golden leaf, necklaces and ironwood trinkets that swayed gently in the wind.

Somehow, the tinkling caused by those decorations helped give the whole construction an appearance of surreal beauty, forcing the travelers to pause and look at it.

-Vir Banal'ras- Lavellan said, frowning.

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -Did an elf make this?- he asked.

-Not just any elf. A hunter.- she replied, while indicating him with a sharp gesture to stop staring at that macabre totem and continue moving. -It's there to signal travelers that his hunt was successful. Clearly, those Hurlocks have made a big mistake.-

-Should I expect something like that at camp?- he asked, waiting for a comment, or a joke to ease the tension.

Lavellan, who had absolutely no desire to joke about a subject so sensitive to her culture, turned a grave look in his direction. -I don't believe in punishments.-

Cullen stared at her for a while, looking for clues, but gave up quickly, because they would have soon arrived where he wanted.

Their objective was a valley insinuated among hills originally dedicated to terraced agriculture. Those were cradling the skeleton of a small village of which little remained except for the foundations of the houses and, occasionally, the armor of the larger buildings.

A footprint in bare concrete.

Cullen dismounted his horse, then walked through the village, looking at the remnants of his childhood with a grimace of annoyance that troubled his facial features.

Lavellan imitated him, keeping herself far enough to grant him space, but also close enough for him to seek comfort in her presence.

They walked along the only street that connected the trail to the town, until they reached a patch bordered with stones and metal columns, too solid to collapse or be uprooted. There, Cullen stopped.

-Your house?- Lavellan asked, looking at a pile of blackened rubble at the far end of the place they were standing.

It took a while for him to answer. -Andraste's shrine.- he corrected her, resignation in his voice. -This is going to sound bizarre, but I have no idea where my house is.-

Instinctively, Lavellan ran a hand over his back to comfort him. -You were young when you left. It's just normal.-

Cullen turned his head in her direction. -I could tell you that we had a magnolia tree and a chicken coop in the backyard. That our neighbors were affable and the lady across the street had an apricot tree that my brother and I didn’t fail to plunder every single summer.- he paused, lowering his voice. -As if it were such a heroic feat to pluck fruit from the lower branches of a tree as tall as you if I took you on my shoulders.- he commented.

Lavellan gave him a composed smile, from beneath her handkerchief.

-The problem is… there is nothing left of that.- he continued, shifting his gaze to a pile of stones that were supposed to be the support of a beautiful brazier dedicated to Andraste. -This desolation faithfully reflects the validity of the memories I possess of this place. Before I physically returned here, in my mind there were only flecks of color, echoes, and an adolescent urge to see what lay beyond the hills.-

Lavellan remained silent enough to give him time to process the feelings caused by the environment around him, then retrieved two arrows from her quiver and snapped them in half, drawing attention to herself. -Come with me.- she invited, stepping over the perimeter of stones to reach the remains of the brazier.

Cullen flinched, then dropped the reins of his horse to follow her.

He watched her sweep with broad strokes the dust that had accumulated on the top of the pedestal, for then breaking up the remains of the arrows above it. When he realized what she was trying to do, he gave her a look filled with gratitude.

-I'd like to leave something alive behind us, before we leave.- she murmured, retrieving a vial from her belt to pour a couple of drops on the remains of the arrows. She fired a tinder box and immediately a faint green fire appeared and began to eat the wood with greediness. -It's an antivan formula. So the fire will stay lit even if it rains.- she explained, taking a step back.

Cullen offered her a bitter smile, then looked at the flames, placing his hands in his lap. - "Let me be the vessel which bears the Light of your promise to the world expectant."- he recited.

-"Let Balance be restored and the world given eternal life".- she added, moving her gaze towards the sky.

It began to rain shortly before they left the perimeter of the village.

They accompanied the horses in silence, observing only the route they had to take towards Honnleath, without daring to look behind. There was everything and nothing to be seen at the same time, and neither of them would hold a fond memory of that visit, not even the faint hope given by a little of burning wood.

-I'm sorry I forced you to come.- Lavellan said, genuinely sorry.

Cullen kept silent for a while before addressing her. -I would never have had the courage to do it alone.- he admitted. -Thank you for allowing me to take this detour.-

Lavellan brushed his arm gently. -Next time I'll take you to the beach, I promise.-

Cullen freed a soft laugh, then they both mounted their horses, finally heading for the original destination of their mission.

*

Unlike most villages that populated the valley, Honnleath had been preserved.

It was a ghost town with crystallized remains of the everyday life of its inhabitants that had to abandon it. As a matter of fact, on the path that preceded it, carts of supplies abandoned by the refugees survived intact and there were clear remains of the pyres that the missionaries of the Chantry had raised for the funerals of those who had fallen victim to the horde.

-I should have listened to you.- Lavellan admitted, once they had passed through the city gates. -And this will be the first and last time you ever hear me say it!- she hastened to add, having noticed an eloquent expression beginning to form on his traveling companion's face.

Honnleath wasn’t a large town, unlike Denerim or Gwaren, yet it was clear that in the past it had been the focal point for most of the villages that dotted the western hills, given the care taken in building construction and the management of infrastructure.

Lavellan noted with relief that, unlike many places touched by the Blight, something in Honnleath still breathed. The façades of several buildings were covered in thick layers of ivy and the greenery covered the pavement in patches, giving the idea that the horde hadn't struck the town as hard as it did in the countryside. From time to time, you could even hear the flutter of birds' wings in the distance.

Cullen guided Lavellan to the central square, then suddenly stopped right in front of the fence that featured it, assuming a confused expression.

-That's odd.- he said, scanning the area with his gaze. -I could swear there was a statue of a golem here.-

Lavellan tied the horses to the fence, then moved inside it. She squatted in front of a low pedestal, where a moldy wicker basket had been abandoned, surrounded by skeletons of pigeons and small birds. The bones were all shattered, as if something had stomped on them violently.

Cullen in the meantime circled the perimeter, making no effort to hide his puzzlement about that particular situation. -They must have moved it, or worse, it got stolen.- he said, his gaze lingering on the pedestal. -Which is hilarious, considering it had no value other than being rather bulky.-

Lavellan straightened up, bringing herself in front of him to step over the fence with a lazy vault. -You really liked that statue.- she commented, amused by her colleague's attitude. Together they moved towards what should have been an emporium before the Blight.

-Nobody liked it.- replied Cullen, dropping dubious glances over his shoulder. -We used to throw seeds at it, to lure budgies.-

Lavellan kneeled down in front of a closed door, to force it with a lockpick. -Budgies you said?- she asked, as the opening mechanism gave a sharp pop, signaling to her that it was possible to get in.

Cullen followed her inside the store, flattening the handkerchief over his cheeks. -Small birds, quite pretty. They had green feathers with straw-yellow beaks. My little sister was fairly obsessed with them. I tried to catch one for her once, with disastrous results.- he explained.

Lavellan chuckled. -Did you put seeds in a cage?-

-No, I ran after them with a net.- he replied, moving away a bulky crate with the tip of the boot so that he could walk over it. -I wasn't a very smart kid.- he added, with a hint of amusem*nt in his voice.

-Birds aren't as hard to catch as you'd think, but gaining their trust is a long process.- she explained, while opening the drawers of an accountant's desk one by one to check inside. -They're social beasts; you don't need to be a savant to lure them into a trap. Unless they're very territorial ones, like turkey, swans, and geese. Especially geese.- she pretended to be struck by shivers. -Those are big and mean.-

-I thought you liked them big and mean.- he said, as he flipped through a register, looking for clues.

Lavellan gave a hysterical laugh, drawing on herself a confused look that immediately turned into a mask of fear, mixed with embarrassment. -Maker's breath! I was referring to hunting! Hunting!- Cullen cried, waving his hands in front of him to cancel the misunderstanding. -I wasn't alluding to whatever you were thinking of!-

-You're making it worse.- she poked him, continuing to giggle.

Cullen was mortified. He stammered out several consonants, interspersed with a trail of vowels that together could have created a meaningful speech, if it weren't for the social ineptitude of their bearer.

Finally, he gave up, huffing nervously. -You know what I meant.- he mumbled, going back to consulting the register.

Lavellan watched him take shelter in his comfort zone with such an interest, then shook her head, snapping her tongue over her palate. -I'll remember that.-

Cullen glared, causing her to laugh in delight.

They explored each building thoroughly, until there was only one left to check.

It was an ancient-looking residence with a solid studded door that had been torn off.

Cullen dwelled in front of it, with uncertainty. -During our outings here, mother used to tell me and my siblings to steer clear of this place.- he said, answering an implied question from Lavellan, visibly curious about his demeanor. -I don't really remember why, but even Mia kept her distance, as if the mere idea of approaching this door gave her the creeps. And she’s someone who isn't easy to fright.-

-Probably, someone interesting lived there.- Lavellan intervened, stepping over the remains of the entrance to walk down a flight of stairs that led to a corridor immersed in darkness.

When she reached it her left hand began to vibrate, accompanied by an annoying tingle. Lavellan raised it in front of her, then pulled off the glove, exposing the Anchor, which had begun to glow brightly. She flashed it at Cullen, and they both shared a look of mutual understanding before drawing their weapons.

Illuminated only by the Anchor, the two of them walked through a dusty room whose floor was covered with congealed blood and pages of books glued perfectly to the tiles. The smell of that combination brought them back to the countryside surrounding Honnleath.

They approached another staircase that led to an even lower floor. It was a cramped, damp corridor, soaked by the classic stench of rotten eggs which hinted the presence of demons.

Cullen anticipated Lavellan's descent, moving slowly so as not to alert the attention of whatever presence was lurking in that haunting basem*nt. The latter was actually a proper maze of tunnels and libraries; although the Anchor was a good compass, the two had to retrace their steps several times in order to find the right path.

-Still thinking this is just an outing?- Lavellan murmured, when they found themselves facing yet another corridor of descending stairs.

Cullen pulled his handkerchief down to offer her a smile. -What if I told you that I would much rather be in a situation like this than having to spend the afternoon swamped in red tape at Haven? How would you take it?-

Lavellan freed her face as well, reciprocating the smile. -I'd say "you're welcome".- she replied, before following him below.

The heel of Cullen's boot didn't have the time to rest on the last step when the claws of a Dust Wraith tried to grab his ankle.

He reacted quickly, striking the demon with his shield to prevent it from hurting him.

Lavellan in the meantime shot an arrow at another Wraith, dissuading it from getting closer, then fired a second arrow, hitting it precisely where its face was located.

The two soon found themselves surrounded by six of those creatures, each one identical to the other, that tried their very best to hit and scratch them.

Rapidly, Lavellan freed herself from an enemy's grasp by performing a somersault, landing on the floor of a room that appeared to be a huge library.

She kept Cullen from ending up overwhelmed by the sheer number of enemies, drawing a half towards her to disperse them throughout the room. For good measure, she peppered the floors with caltrops to slow the Wraiths down and handle the situation with ease.

-I've never seen these before!- she confessed, after hitting a Wraith that threatened to surprise Cullen from behind.

He, who didn't really need her aid, landed a couple of precise blows that knocked out one enemy and injured another. -These are Dust Wraiths, or Ash Wraits. Watch out for the flames!- he warned his companion, just in time for her to spot an attack and dodge it, preventing her from getting toasted. -They're like that, yeah. They like to play with fire.- he added, looking strangely amused.

-I noticed it.- Lavellan commented, laughing.

Fortunately, it was an undemanding fight, and both of them suffered no injuries, except for a few burns here and there on their clothes.

-The rift must be further down.- Lavellan speculated, after picking up any viable arrows left from the ground.

Cullen watched her adjust the quiver on her back, looking absorbed. -How is it that in combat we have good synchronicity, but in front of the war table we always end up ripping each other apart?-

Lavellan spun around, looking for a more stable light source to rely on. -The decisions we make are the result of a set of factors and a sum is nothing more than the union of its addends. Maybe we have some in common.- she replied, reaching for a row of torches hooked to a wall overlooking a sloping corridor.

Cullen pondered on her words, but that thought didn't seem to convince him. -Do you really think we have something in common?-

-More than something, or I wouldn't have asked you to come with me.- she said, proceeding to light the torches. -Just because we have different approaches when dealing with decisions, doesn't mean I don't think your opinion is valuable. We're a team, I trust you.-

-Same goes for me.-

-Then what are we arguing about?-

Cullen smirked, then hurried to help her. -Force of habit, I guess.- he replied.

Lavellan chuckled.

Finally, they were able to give an identity to the place they stumbled in. It was a study, laden with countertops and large bookshelves devoted to the arcane; it was filled with literature on the magical arts and objects of mystical nature. -When we get back, remind me to tell Josephine to send someone to retrieve these.- Lavellan said, brushing her index finger against the coasts of books older than her, neatly arranged on a rather dusty shelf.

Cullen approached her, looking attentively at his surroundings. -Are you interested in magic?-

-Alchemy.- she corrected him, retrieving a very fragile-looking booklet and slipping it inside a pouch she kept tied to her belt. -The study of reactions, elements, rocks, liquids...-

-Things that go "boom" when mixed up together, basically-

-Not necessarily. Sometimes they go "fzz!" or "wham!" Did you know that most of alchemical reactions can be found in cooking recipes?-

Cullen looked at her with a hint of resignation in his gaze, then moved towards the sloping hallway. -Come on, let's finish the job, then we'll think about blowing up some kitchens.-

Lavellan rolled her eyes, then trotted after him, quite amused.

They didn’t encounter any other Wraith in the corridor. On the other hand, the temperature dropped dramatically, as usual when in the presence of a tear in the Veil. In fact, to confirm its presence there was a halo of pulsing green light that drenched the end of the room.

-How do the four of you deal with these things, usually?- Cullen whispered, slowing his pace.

Lavellan leaned toward his direction. -I usually do a recon tour and report back to Cassandra. Most of the times we go off the cuff, though.-

Cullen turned back to her. -You're joking, right?- he said, with a note of indisposition. He ran a look over her face, recognizing a trace of hilarity in her features. -You're not joking.- he confirmed, dryly.

-Don't worry, I'm a quick thinker.- she murmured, opening a mischievous smile in the direction of the light. -Especially when I'm under pressure.- she added, taking a few steps backwards before leading the line.

Cullen avoided questioning her, although he was really dissatisfied with that answer, and just followed with a concerned expression.

They crossed the threshold of a circular underground room, wide and supported by moisty stone columns.

At its exact core there was a carpet of tiles carved in stone, perfectly lit by a medium-sized tear in the Veil, surrounded by sprites and a circle of Wraiths that floated above the floor following no specific direction.

As soon as Lavellan stepped into the room, the Anchor made a crackling sound in response to the spiritual activity. As a result, a Wrath Demon and two Despair Demons materialized below the rift all of a sudden.

Lavellan performed a textbook long shot, piercing two Wraiths that instantly dissolved. Cullen, on the other hand, raised his shield, parrying an ice mine in time and deflecting a second one, then rushed to intercept the Wrath Demon, which was crawling towards Lavellan.

-See? Planning isn’t always necessary.- she shouted, while systematically eliminating Wraiths. -Sometimes it's just a matter of logic. I take out the annoying ones while you take care of the chunky fella without having to worry too much about looking over your shoulders.-

Cullen, who was taking cover behind his shield from a sudden blast of flames, threw her a sour look. -If we ever get out of this alive…- he plunged the blade of his sword into the viscous, boiling matter of which the Wrath demon was composed, then used his skills to bless the blade so as to damage the enemy. -I’m going to scold you so heavily that you’ll have to ride home with a new set of legs.-

Lavellan in the meantime was slaloming among the columns to confuse the Despair Demons, who were jumping in the air from one side of the room to the other with every intention of grasping her. -Was that a threat or an ambiguous suggestion?- she asked, stopping to aim for the last Wraith. She took him out with an explosive shot whose detonation distracted the Wrath Demon enough to allow Cullen to finish him off.

-You're having a little too much fun for my likings.- he said, looking around for a new target.

-You aren’t?- she asked, dodging a sliver of ice. -Want me to tell you a joke?-

Cullen could barely hold back a laugh.

They joined forces, finally focusing on the Despair Demons. They ran back and forth across the room for ten minutes straight before engaging in actual combat. Defeating those enemies was a matter of patience, but they got plenty and managed to succeed.

-Watch out, there are usually more of them coming out before I can fix it.- Lavellan warned him, once the action was over.

Cullen focused on the rift stretching and contracting in mid-air, as it ejected three bright threads along the tiled floor. He glared at a green energy cluster that was gradually taking the form of a demon, then raised the shield for cover, to avoid falling prey to a sneak attack.

During the second wave, two Dust Wraiths and a Desire Demon appeared.

-Follow me!- Lavellan shouted. For the whole duration of the materialization she had put her bow away, running from one side of the room to the other for no apparent reason.

-I'm fine where I am, like so I can let you fall back, in case...-

-Just shut up and come here, mate!- she groaned, nocking and shooting arrows at a rapid pace.

It took Cullen just the time to exhaust an assault, before taking advantage of the cover fire to reach her.

-The handkerchief.- she suggested, so he followed her example, covering his nose and mouth.

-You have a plan, don't you?- he asked her.

-I found one on the floor.- Lavellan replied, as she signaled to fall back. They found themselves in a narrow space between two columns.

Cullen cursed through clenched teeth as she asked him to wait. For him, that was an obvious spot of disadvantage, since there was a wall behind them and their mobility was limited.

Dust Wraiths crawled up to them first. Then came the turn of the Desire Demon, who crept through the opening between the two columns to reach her opponents with its claws.

As soon as the enemies were in range, Lavellan grabbed Cullen by the arm and pushed him to flatten his back against the wall. Then, she retrieved a vial she was keeping hidden under her arm guard and hurled it to the floor.
Immediately, a column of smoke rose up. It was so thick and odorous that Cullen was forced to hide his face behind the shield to prevent the smoke from blinding him.

He felt himself being dragged away, and once visibility returned he brandished his sword in front of him, finally certain that he would not hurt Lavellan in the process. He briefly relaxed his guard, surprised that the positions had reversed.

In fact, the demons had been trapped in the cramped space, disoriented by the smoke and by Lavellan's unpredictable action. Rudimentary seals, glowing with blue light, had appeared on the two columns and the wall around them.

-See? Blowing up kitchens has its perks!- she joked, heading towards the rift hastily.

-Did you bind them?- Cullen asked, genuinely impressed.

Lavellan blew raspberries -Don't be ridiculous, I'm no mage! I just confused them temporarily.- she answered.

She threw a glass tube at him, which he grabbed on the fly, then placed her left hand facing the rift. -Throw it as soon as I'm done!- she ordered, while the Anchor was acting on the fracture, which in that moment was trying to protect itself to allow the demons to stay on the real plane. In fact, it had taken the appearance of a core of quartz crystals.

Cullen looked at that formation, then at the wall of smoke, and finally turned to Lavellan, looking tense. -Your Worship?- he called her, while the demons were starting to figure out the situation, trying to free themselves from the binding effect of the seals, hindered only by the viscosity of the fog.

-Almost there!- she reassured him, through clenched teeth, while the rift was emitting a vibration so distorted that it disturbed both their hearing.

The Desire Demon uttered a chilling scream, gathering energy in the palms of its hands to summon a cone of ice.

Lavellan grabbed the connecting thread between the Anchor and the rift and yanked it with all the strength she had in her left arm. -Now!- she shouted.

Cullen threw the tube. Once shattered on the ground, the substance that was inside reacted immediately to the material of the fog, that instantly turned into a wall of green fire, involving the three demons already stunned by the breaking of the rift. The Wraiths had no escape and their essences were sucked inside the Fade, while the Desire Demon cried out loud in pain, struggling to free itself from the flames.

Lavellan, who was already taking aim, hit the remaining opponent in the heart with a perfect long shot. The arrow pierced through the demon's core so violently that it recoiled. -All yours, mate!- Lavellan exclaimed, noticing that Cullen's hands were itching with impatience.

He didn't even reply. He made his sword and shield collide, making a clear sound as he summoned a shockwave of purifying energy.

After stunning the demon, he whirled his sword to give it more force of impact, then swung an oblique slash, shattering the opponent.

Officially disintegrated, the demon placidly joined his comrades-in-arms beyond the rift, finally weakened.

Lavellan dropped the bow and imposed her left again, allowing the Anchor to weld the rift with a line of sparks that proceeded from bottom to top, inexorably.

Cullen watched that maneuver with eyes wide open. Although he had seen Lavellan at work before, the closing of the rifts was an unique spectacle, and she who commanded that action was becoming more and more skilled as she practiced.

It was fascinating. She was fascinating.

-Three, two, one...- Lavellan pulled the spiritual rope to herself, patching the Veil for good.

The room fell into darkness as Cullen let out a long sigh of relief mixed with satisfaction.

He gasped suddenly, feeling Lavellan's hand against his chest. -Still thinking I'm a clueless thing?- she asked, keeping her left between them to ensure they both had a source of light. It wasn't enough to tell where they were located in the room, but it outlined the contours of Lavellan's fingers, reflecting off the tapetum ludicum beneath her eyes.

Cullen exhaled a small laugh. -No, but you're irresponsible as hell.- he said, looking around for another source of light. -It went better than I thought it would.- he admitted, softly.

Lavellan laughed as well, as she was leading him across the tile floor, guilty of seeing better in the dark. -I'm as surprised as you are. I thought that you had gotten rusty by dint of flattening your ass behind a desk.-

They stood for a minute contemplating each other in the semi-darkness until Lavellan turned her gaze abruptly in the direction of the exit.

They both pointed their weapons towards a warm light that described the access point to the corridor leading to the upper floors, and inexorably approached their position.

Surprisingly, a young woman armed with a torch appeared in front of them. She pointed the light in front of her, presenting the two of them with an astonished expression. -Blessed Andraste, how did you do it?- she asked, sharply.

The two shared a confused look. It was at that moment that Cullen realized how close Lavellan had gotten to him, so he hurried to move away, eyes stained with discomfort.

She didn't seem to mind it, as she was busy analyzing the newcomer from head to toe. She approached her with caution, lowering her bow gradually. -With a little bit of lime and a lot of good will.- she joked.

Cullen followed along, careful not to trip over the bony remains of a cat in the process.

The light bearer was a girl in her mid-twenties, with deep dark eyes filled with surprise. She too was wearing a handkerchief over her face and her body was fully protected, except for her gaze and a wisp of light hair that escaped the hood, all signs that she was used to interacting with the Blight.

-Don't mess with me, I've been trying to make it disappear for weeks, with no success.- she said, nodding at the staff strapped to her back. -Not even the Warden I consulted was able to help me.-

-Your Warden didn't have the means to do so, evidently.- Lavellan replied placidly, while briefly exposing her left hand.

The girl looked at her, then Cullen, lastly she raised her eyebrows. -Are you with the Inquisition?- she asked, with a hint of excitement.

-That depends. Do we owe you any money for the repairs?- Lavellan joked.

Cullen gave her a disapproving look.

-Doesn't matter what faction you're with.- their interlocutor hastened to say. -My name’s Amalia and this was my house before the Blight. Today you have granted me a huge favor. What can I give you in return?-

Lavellan looked briefly at Cullen, before answering. -Informations and possibly a safe place to spend the night.- she paused. -If there is any, of course.-

Amalia signaled them to follow her outside. -Then you'd better leave Honnleath as soon as possible. Those who tried to rehome here after the Blight became corrupted within a week.- she explained, picking up the pace as soon as she had visual evidence of them following her.

Cullen arched an eyebrow over a skeptical expression. -That long? Usually a few hours of exposure are enough.-

-Fortunately not, or the two of you would be dead by now.- she replied, alluding to the fact that they both didn't have their heads covered, or appropriate clothing for that sort of situation. -It's not so much the direct exposure, but the winds that carry infected dust with them. My father fell victim to it through indirect exposure, six years after the Blight's end, because he got stranded in the countryside during a sudden heavy rainstorm.- she continued, as the two finally sheathed their weapons. -He only had to breathe in the dust for a few days, then he started to get sick.-

-I'm sorry to hear that.- said Cullen. -I'll make sure to light a candle in his memory when we get back to Haven.-

Amalia shrugged. -A whole cathedral wouldn’t be enough to commemorate what happened here.- she said, with macabre acceptance.

She waited until they were outside, before looking her benefactors in the face, then she turned off the torch. -Ah, so it is true that Inquisition accepts people of all kinds in its ranks. You're Dalish, aren't you?- she asked, addressing Lavellan.

-With the seal of protected designation of origin.- she replied, looking around with growing concern. -So, we're in danger of contracting the Blight?-

-It depends on how long you've been exposed. You might want to burn your clothes and wash your equipment for good measure.- replied Amalia, pausing to observe Cullen with an interested gaze.

Lavellan wheezed. -Good thing you insisted we'd wear different clothes.-

Cullen frowned. -It was for our safety, however I didn't think Blight's influence was so volatile.- he excused himself.

Lavellan paused to look at him, not convinced at all. -You didn't want to mess up your armor, isn’t it?-

-Very that.- he confirmed, without a hint of remorse.

-Follow me, I'm taking you to my village. It's half an hour's ride from here.- Amalia intervened, moving across the central square to reach the fencing where the horses had been tied up. There was a spotted mount that kept them company and all together they were placidly grazing from a burlap bag filled to the brim with hay.

-I took the liberty of feeding them, lest they binge on corrupted grass.-

Lavellan gave a reproachful look to Cullen, visibly sorry. -I underestimated the situation.- he admitted.

-No one is prepared for something like this. Even us. It has been a trial and error process, but we adapted somehow.- Amalia reassured him, while picking up the bag from the ground to seal it. -Once in Fort Elanor we'll explain everything to you properly, in case you ever need to come back to close another of those luminous portals. Our Seneschal claims there's a huge one in Ostagar.-

-A rift? In Ostagar? Where the Blight began?- asked Lavellan, manifesting a spark of excitement in her eyes. -How far is it from here?-

It was Cullen's turn to wear a reproachful expression. -Too far.- he said. -May I remind you that you must leave for the Hinterlands tomorrow afternoon?-

Lavellan huffed. -You’re such a wet blanket!-

-Anyway, wasn't there a golem here?- Cullen asked, preventing Lavellan from finding any more excuses to glaring at him.

Amalia mounted her horse, waiting for her guests to do so as well before answering. -Yes, its name was Shale.-

-What happened to them?-

-The Hero of Ferelden took it away, after she saved the village.-

Cullen drew back his head, shifting a confused look between his interlocutor and the square. -How on Maker's earth did she do that? The thing was huge!- he blurted, his voice an octave higher.

-That's what she said.- Lavellan commented, securing herself a very unconvincing glare.

-She activated it and made it follow her.- explained Amalia, preceding them to the village gates.

Cullen stared at her dumbfounded, and his reaction made Lavellan, who found the situation incredibly funny, smile. -Easy, right?- she said.

He rolled his eyes. -How could I haven't considered that?- he muttered, without sparing any sort of sarcasm.

Chapter 3: A respectable person

Chapter Text

The three rode past a section of the countryside that was less troubled than the one they had passed through earlier in the afternoon, yet the landscape retained the gray desolation that seemed to be shared by the entire region.

They crossed two fords that bordered small forests of beech and young ash trees, planted sometime after the Blight to repopulate those areas that hadn’t been touched by the Darkspawn horde. Fortunately, the flora had taken hold well and allowed the habitation of fish and insects, bringing with it, as a consequence, a fair population of waterfowl. Lavellan felt a sense of unique relief when she noticed a line of ducklings following a mallard who was busy teaching them how to dive underwater to feed.

Once the travelers had confirmation that they were in a safe place, and the air was breathable, they dropped their protective gear.

Amalia had a beautiful heart-shaped face, grazed by a tapestry of freckles and framed by a simple hairstyle. A rebellious lock of golden hair brushed a graceful upturned nose and a pair of small and plump lips, slightly parted due to an overbite.

When she turned to identify her guests, her gaze lingered on Cullen's face, and from that moment on she never stopped engaging with him. Lavellan didn't hold it against her, as she was guilty of drawing the exact same conclusions when she first saw him.

-Lake Calenhad should be a hundred kilometers from here.- Cullen said, pointing to a specific landmark north during yet another dialogue with their guide. -We took the Imperial Highway at the time, and it took us days to reach Kinloch, but it's possible to get to Redcliffe by following the course of the river backwards. If the waters are quiet, you can get there by boat in about half the time.-

-Do you know the place well?- Amalia asked him, looking in his direction with sparks in her eyes.

Cullen shook his head. -I grew up in West Hills. I have no idea what's down here. I do have good memory, though.-

-And a terrible sense of direction, ‘cause Redcliffe is there.- Lavellan intervened, indicating a slightly different direction with a nod.

Cullen rolled his eyes. -Not everyone is a compass with legs.- he muttered.

Lavellan grinned.

-We’re almost there.- Amalia announced, spurring the horse to increase the pace.

Perched atop a hill surrounded by cypress trees there was a modest fortified village whose perimeter was marked by a wall of iron-welded logs. All around, the land consisted of rectangular plots, divided by muddy roads that all converged on a long uphill path that was wide enough for two wagons to pass easily side by side.

There wasn’t much traffic, yet from the road one could hear the noise of townspeople at work inside the village, an indication that it was populated enough to warrant some liveliness.

The three reached a large gate, looked by two guards on the road and a sentinel who at that moment was watching the horizon from the top of the wall, sheltered by a small wooden cabin.

-Who are your guests, Amalia?- one of the guards asked her, observing the two suspiciously.

-They're Inquisition.- she said, dismounting her horse. -They sealed the rift I had in my cellar.-

The guard gave an impressed look at Cullen. -Osric better crack open the good barrels, then!- he said, smiling. -Welcome to Fort Elanor, sir.-

Cullen got off his horse, then answered him with a gentle nod; Lavellan did the same, but her greeting was entirely ignored.

The layout of the village formed a regular grid. There was a long central street, divided into three intersections marked with a placard named after a particularly outstanding individual. The houses were made of wood, soaked by the moisture of frequent rains, and everywhere along the main street it was possible to see various services and stalls, like blacksmiths and trinkets vendors, closing for nighttime.

-So, the family name Greystone doesn't ring a bell at all?- Lavellan asked, spinning around as she noticed many windows opening in front of the curious gazes of those who were looking out.

-Just a little, but I'd ask Osric, just in case.- replied Amalia, leading them into the proximity of a stable.

Lavellan waited until it was her turn to profit from the service, then handed over her horse's reins to the stable boy, a rakish teenager who had more eyes than common sense. She placed two coppers on his hand, addressing him with a condescending smile.

The boy looked at her in disbelief, then returned the money brusquely. -Do you think I'm stupid, knife ears? I don't want your junk!-

Amalia intervened before Lavellan could. -They're guests, Aron. Inquisition.-

The boy glared at the target of his contempt. -They may be the Divine resurrected from the ashes, but if this one thinks she's going to rip me off with fake money, well, she's got the wrong guy!-

Lavellan rested a hand on Cullen's arm, preventing him from speaking his mind. -Nah, the fake money trick is something that no one has done for ages.- she said, to downplay the situation.

-And how will you pay me, huh? With ironwood necklaces?-

-Nobody's going to pay at all!- Amalia scoffed, slapping the kid on the back of his head. -Stupid kid, you're making me look like a fool in front of the Herald of Andraste!-

-The Herald of Andraste?- echoed the stable boy, massaging the wounded area. He laid his gaze on Cullen, in astonishment.

Cullen pointed at Lavellan. -It's her. She’s the Herald of Andraste.- he specified, clearly annoyed.

-Oh.- the boy put on a deluded face.

Amalia grabbed him by the shoulders, turned him around and pushed him away firmly.

-I'm so sorry.- she apologized, leading her guests across the street, where a beautiful glass door surmounted by a painted sign was situated; it bore the heraldry of Couslands encircling a fine mug of beer filled to the brim.

-Fret not, it's just routine for me.- Lavellan declared, without giving it too much thought. On the opposite, Cullen was wearing a grimace of annoyance on his face.

Amalia opened the door and led her guests inside the building, which was actually a rather nice and cozy inn. It had a beautiful central brazier surrounded by a profusion of tables set with cotton tablecloths and a ceramic spittoon each.

She reached a counter placed at the other side of the entrance where a bald, ruddy gentleman with a beautiful brush mustache was polishing a row of mugs. As soon as he noticed Amalia, the man shot an interested look at her. -Are these the guys who cleared out your basem*nt?- he asked.

-News travels fast.- Lavellan commented, setting eyes on an obscene figurine placed at one side of the counter. It depicted a sharply dressed pig, holding its nose up in a haughty manner. She pointed it out to Cullen, chuckling. -Looks like Chancellor Roderick is among us.-

Her companion couldn't hold back a smirk, finally relaxing the muscles of his face.

-Exactly. I have a debt of gratitude to them.- Amalia said, slipping off her mage staff to place it on a table, not far away. -Do you have any room for them tonight?-

-There's always room for heroes, at the inn of The Lady and the Bastard.- announced the innkeeper, slapping a dirty rag over his shoulder before extending his hand to Cullen. -Osric Mileforth, at your service.-

Cullen returned the shake vigorously. -Cullen Rutherford, thank you for the hospitality.- he said for then stepping backwards, as the innkeeper seemed unwilling to pay attention to his traveling companion. -This dame is lady Lavellan, the Herald of Andraste.-

The innkeeper let out a dry laugh, splitting an amused look over the two of them. When he realized that no one seemed to be humoring him, his amusem*nt turned into puzzlement. -The Herald of Andraste is a… a knife-ear?!-

Lavellan shrugged. -I complained as well myself, but your saints have a no refunds policy.- she cut it short. -Where can we sleep?-

The innkeeper stared at her for a long time, smoothing his mustache, then nodded firmly. -I have a couple of vacant rooms, on the second floor.- he said, hurrying to guide them towards a creaky flight of stairs.

Amalia picked up her staff, heading for the exit. -Be right back.- she reassured the group, before leaving the building.

The corridor on the second floor was cramped, and each room was forcibly humble, an indication that they were primarily used by the patrons of the inn who probably were too intoxicated to return home at night. -I have one twin room and one with a king-size bed left.- announced the innkeeper, opening two doors hastily. -I can give you both for the right price.-

-We're taking the double, right?- asked Lavellan, looking inside the smaller room with two separated beds.

-Absolutely not.- replied Cullen. -You take that one.- he pointed to the bigger room. -And I take this one.- he concluded, gesturing to the twin room.

Lavellan threw him a look drenched in weariness. -Not you too, please! You can't catch the plague if you sleep in the same room with an Elf. It's scientifically proven.-she paused. -Unless the Elf has the plague, but you can notice it on the fly.- she pointed at her face with a circular gesture. -Bubbons, blisters, death.-

Cullen rested his hands on the hips. -Because of customs, Your Worship, not racism.- he corrected her, tension in his voice.

Lavellan frowned, tilting her head. -I don't get it. Didn't you sleep with other Templars, back at the Circle?-

-That's not the same thing.- he corrected her, then cleared his throat. -What I meant is that it would be inappropriate for a lady to sleep in the same room with a bachelor.-

-The gentleman is right.- interjected the innkeeper, casually slipping a pipe between his lips. -Only a wife or a prostitute would share the bed with a man outside his house. For proper young ladies it's right about unseemly. People talk.-

Lavellan exhaled a nervous laugh. -Sounds like a tad paranoid to me. Can we just take the double and get over with it, please?-

-No.-

Lavellan grabbed Cullen by the arm and pushed him inside one of the two rooms, closing the door behind them. She faced him at length, gradually losing all trace of amusem*nt from her face. -They'd be willing to spit on my face only because I have money of my own, and now all of a sudden you're growing such idiotic lordly obsessions forcing me to sleep alone?-

-They're not obsessions, it's...-

-f*cking customs, I got it.- she interrupted him, running a hand over her face to rub off the frustration that that exchange was causing her.

Cullen stepped towards her, raising his hands slowly. -They're adjacent rooms, I'll be there in case you need my assistance.- he said, trying to reassure her. He received a deadly look in response.

Lavellan took a couple of deep breaths, then shifted her gaze elsewhere in an attempt to calm down. -If you won’t change your mind in two hours, it means you're stupider than I thought.- she stated, then headed towards the door. -Can we get a friends and family discount at least?- she asked the innkeeper, once she had left the room.

The man puffed a cloud of smoke from his nose, then shrugged. -It's twenty silver per night. Each.-

-So much for a discount!-

-Dinner’s included.-

Since there were no other options available, Lavellan refrained from dwelling too much on that outright theft and retrieved the right price from the money satchel, shoving it into Osric’s hands. -They're legit.- she added, having intercepted a doubtful expression out of the corner of her eye.

She waited for Cullen to catch up, ignoring his every attempt at small talk, then she followed the innkeeper down the stairs.

-Something to drink?- Amalia offered, handing a mug filled with ale to both of her guests. Lavellan accepted with a half-hearted smile, then pretended to take a sip, resting the mug on her hands for quite some time before putting it down on the counter.

Cullen, having noticed that maneuver, immediately distracted Amalia before she noticed it herself. -Where can we get a change of clothes?- he asked.

-I've already taken care of that, don't worry.- the girl replied, retrieving two bundles of cloth to hand them over to Cullen. -I hope they fit.-

-Thanks.- he replied, taking a quick look inside them before placing the smaller one in Lavellan's care. He took another sip of beer, then pointed the stairs at his traveling companion. -After you.-

She shot him a sharp look, tired of his forced politeness. -You're not coming?- she asked him.

Cullen repeated the gesture. -I was suggesting that you'd go up first, Your Worship. I’m right behind you.- he clarified.

Lavellan relaxed her facial features, then walked on, comforted by the fact that she was guessing incorrectly.

Once in her room, Lavellan gave herself a momentous grooming, making sure that no remnants of corruption were left on her body and equipment. She bid farewell to her traveling clothes, stuffing them inside the sack provided by Amalia, then she laid the new clothing on the side of the bed.

From the state of the blankets and mattress, Lavellan easily deduced that that room was mainly frequented by illicit couples and she was certain that it was used to do anything but sleep. She noted down mentally to rub it in Cullen's face as soon as possible.

After scanning her clothes with uncertainty, she slipped into a turquoise shirt and a pair of pants that were definitely oversized for her. She opened her arms, holding them parallel to the floor as she watched her figure being swallowed by too much fabric. That goofy sight caused her to laugh, raising her spirits decisively.

-At least it's not a dress.- she commented, retrieving from the bed a scarf that Amalia had attached to an overcoat. She wrapped her waist with it, making sure that that rudimentary corset fitted her body properly, then she fastened it with two turns of her own belt, knotting it at the buckle. Once she had adjusted the sleeves of her shirt and slipped her pants into her boots (careful that they adhered on her calves) she moved on to her equipment, given by a wide belt, burdened with bags and purses, which she tied on her hips. She quickly checked that everything was in place, then threw a heavy coat (which was really just a very wide jacket) over her shoulders and retrieved her bow and arrows, heading for the exit.

Once outside, she shifted her gaze to the right where Cullen was expecting her. He had his back leaning against the door of his room, and his arms crossed over the chest.

When he saw her, Cullen eyed Lavellan up with surprise, before shifting his attention elsewhere. -You got lucky.- he commented, straightening up.

Lavellan found herself thinking that his luck was considerably better than hers. On the outside, at least, because the shell looked the usual handsome same. The interior, however, had dents so subtle that they seemed invisible to an untrained eye.

Lavellan, who was as rational as she was compassionate, found herself in a limbo of undecidedness, because the reaction she would have liked to have was very different from the one her companion got.

Tightened up in a light gray suit, Cullen looked worn, and had a hint of sadness behind his gaze. Lavellan speculated that it was precisely due to those clothes that carried the ghost of a fate from which he had turned his back many years earlier, because he was seeking a different purpose from the forced humility derived by the country lifestyle.

It wasn't the first time she saw him in clothes different from those he usually wore at council's meetings, or during recruit training, but looking at him in a different context made her realize how naturally attractive was for her the fragility of that man when uprooted from his adamant professionalism.

-I look like Master Dennett.- muttered Cullen, straightening the flaps of the heavy coat he was wearing to shake off his discomfort. Thanks to that sharp gesture, Lavellan was finally able to snap out of her torpor.

She stepped closer, standing up on her toes to adjust the heavy scarf he was wearing over the lapels, for then tapping a hand on his chest. -A fine southern gentleman! All you need is a pretty ribbon and all the girls in the village will be lining up to offer you a flower.- she reassured him, flashing a little smile.

Cullen exhaled a short nervous laugh, lowering his gaze. -Your Worship, if I wasn't sure that you are flattering me just to tease, I would gladly return the compliment.-

-And what would you like to tell me, that you're glad I washed the Blight off my back in time to avoid plaguing you?- she joked, proceeding downstairs.

He looked at her silently for a long time, then joined her. -Definitely not that.- he replied.

When they reached downstairs, Amalia welcomed them with a broad smile. Osric, on the other hand, merely glanced out, then went back to washing the counter in preparation for opening. After Amalia showered her guests with compliments, the innkeeper addressed Cullen. -I’ve heard you are looking for Delia Greystone.-

-Do you know her?-

Osric nodded. -She's the baker's widow. Her husband died on a pilgrimage a few years ago and she had to hand over the business to the Seneschal.-

-Ma serannas, Falon'Din!- murmured Lavellan, wearing her relief like a badge. -We didn't waste a trip!-

Cullen sketched a smile. -Where can we find her?-

The innkeeper rested his elbows on the surface of the counter, leaning towards him. -You can find her where all the proper ladies of the village are after six o'clock: at the Chantry for the evening lecture.-

-What kind of person is she?- Lavellan asked.

-A respectable woman.-

Lavellan forced herself to let it suffice, for it was clear that the man didn't want to hand out too much information about one of his fellow villagers over to two complete strangers. -Thank you.- she said, plainly.

Once the innkeeper excused himself, Amalia led the two outside to wave goodbye.

The main street was bathed in twilight, and the temperature had dropped dramatically, forming clouds of condensation between the lips of those passing by as they were hurriedly heading back to their homes after work. Behind the windows, the dim light of lanterns could be discerned, accompanied by the typical clanking of tables being set.

-Dinner must be prepared, and chores must be done before sunset.- Amalia told them, with a note of sadness in her voice. -I'm sorry I haven't been much helpful.-

-Nonsense! The Inquisition owes you a debt of gratitude.- replied Cullen, bowing his head respectfully. The girl's cheeks tinged in embarrassment.

Lavellan presented her with a warm smile. -Thank you very much, Amalia. I hope to see you again soon.- she said, before leaning out to hug her briefly.

Once the girl was far away, the two exchanged a look of mutual understanding. -After you!- Lavellan said, accompanying the exclamation with a dramatic gesture. Cullen huffed out a laugh, then walked ahead.

The chantry was certainly not comparable to Haven's cathedral in terms of grandiosity, but it didn't lack the solemnity that characterized the cult represented.

It was a little larger than a residential building and consisted of a single nave that contained a sparse amount of benches. Incense fumes, coming from the apse area, were floating lazily above a poor population of worshippers who were intent on listening to the reading of the Chant performed by a chantress with a shrill and nasal timbre.

Lavellan hastened to follow Cullen, who, after paying his respects to the Maker, was heading in the direction of a Templar who was watching over the function with an observant air.

-I thought they all went east.- Lavellan said softly, to avoid disturbing the mass.

Cullen shook his head. -Not all of them. Those who weren't deployed held their position to watch over the worshippers.- he replied.

The Templar, upon noticing the presence of strangers, raised a hand in their direction, halting them. When they obliged, he approached them personally, bearing circ*mspection.

He was armed and wearing full armor, complete with helmet. From the way he moved, he seemed to be annoyed, because he was distracted from his duties. -Mother Ilena will be occupied for quite some time. I suggest you either sit down, or to bring your business here afterwards.- he said, in a commanding voice.

Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise, tilting his head to peer through the visor of their interlocutor's helmet. -Ser Kavanaugh, is that you?- he asked.

Upon hearing those words, the Templar found himself hesitating. He slipped off his helmet, revealing to the newcomers a handsome, sharp face marked by advanced age. He passed a confused look over Cullen at first, then his features flecked with disbelief. -Rutherford?!-

Cullen nodded, revealing a genuine smile between his lips. Lavellan looked at him. -Do you know this man?- she asked, surprised by that sudden change of character.

-Of course!- Cullen replied. -He taught me how to draw a sword.-

The Templar immediately dropped the annoyance he had worn up to that moment. He smiled in return, then placed a caress on Cullen's face, slapping him on the cheek a couple of times. -What a surprise!- he exclaimed. -You're all grown up!-

-Well, it's been twenty years since we last saw each other, sir.- replied Cullen, whose subconscious seemed to force him to straighten his posture more and more as the conversation progressed.

-I'm glad to see you're fine, especially with the current state of the Order.- said Ser Kavanaugh, motioning them to follow him to a spot where their conversation would not disturb the service. -I assume you’ve received Lord Lucius' convocation letter as well.-

Cullen and Lavellan shared a concerned look. -No, and I don't think I'll ever get it.- replied the former, returning to seriousness immediately. -I left the Order seven months ago, now I work with the Inquisition.- he explained.

Ser Kavanaugh looked at him from head to toe sternly. -Are you all right?- he asked him.

Cullen took his time before responding. -I'm in perfect shape.- he cut it short, placing a hand on Lavellan's back gently.

It was the first time he deliberately touched her since they met, and she immediately got the call for emotional support behind it. She found herself thinking that this totally out-of-character act wasn’t a way for him to deflect the conversation, but a genuine desire for reassurance, so she felt compelled to indulge him, by shortening their distances. She noticed immediately that his muscles lost a bit of tension.

-Ser Kavanaugh, I would like to introduce you lady Lavellan.- Cullen said, briefly tightening his grip on the fabric of her jacket before breaking off contact. -The Herald of Andraste.- he rushed to clarify.

-Pleasure to meet you.- she said, extending her hand.

Her interlocutor reacted to that title by assuming a startled expression, as if he had just heard blasphemy. He looked at both of them with disdain in his gaze, before focusing on her. -Am I dealing with a saint, or a heretic?- he asked.

Lavellan, who had heard much worse, turned the handshake into a hasty wave. She gave him a tight smile, then shrugged. -I haven't been struck by a bolt of lightning yet, if that helps your judgement.- she joked.

Cullen tightened his lips, preventing himself from expressing how inappropriate that response was. Fortunately, Lavellan corrected her trajectory in time to avoid an incident.

-I speak for no one, sir, it's just a title I've been given because I'm the only person in Thedas who can mend the Veil. For the faithful, it's a gift entrusted to me by a mystical figure that those who were present after the Conclave exploded recognized as Andraste.- she explained. -In fact, I work with the Inquisition to stabilize the areas affected by the rifts, and I assist its leadership in decisional matters.-

-Your Worship has restored order in the southern area of the Hinterlands, in less than a week. Thanks to her intervention, we can finally provide stability for civilians after what happened to Kirkwall and at the Conclave.- Cullen intervened.

-You sound like an auctioneer, Rutherford.- Ser Kavanaugh scolded him, rather unconvinced. -I wonder what prompted you to abandon your brothers in time of need to associate with such a radical and impulsive organization. The Chantry disapproves your methods, but you already know that, I suppose.-

-The Chantry is in shambles.- Cullen stated. -They’re busy dealing with politics rather than doing actual good for the real victims of this situation. Unlike them, our priorities are straight.-

-Real Templars have always done actual good for people.- Ser Kavanaugh replied. -Now more than ever, it's become a necessity to hold on to our place among the faithful, to guide and protect them.-

Cullen looked at him with a hint of disappointment in his gaze. He relaxed his posture, as if the air he had just exhaled through his nose had dragged away with it most of the nostalgic respect Cullen had for the individual in front of him. -We simply can't insist on watering our crops when the world beyond the fence is burning.- he said.

-And now the world is definitely on fire.- Lavellan added, in reinforcement. -It was even before the explosion, but no one ever wanted to hand out water to extinguish the flames.- she glanced at the revered mother, who was intervening at the mass to interpret the words of the Chant of Light through a sermon. -The Inquisition happen to have an excess of it and we’re not afraid to use it.-

Cullen smiled. -An excess?- he repeated, skeptically.

-Yeah, the one produced by all that steam you and Cassandra puff out during every council meeting.- she said, replying to his smile with an evasive look. -We have a considerable supply.- she added, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Ser Kavanaugh shifted his gaze from one to another. -Very entertaining, but if you came here only to persuade me and my brothers to join your cause, I'm afraid you're wasting time.- he said, adamantly.

Cullen immediately raised a hand to stop that idea. -Actually, we're here for something else.-

-We are here to track down the family of a kid in trouble.- Lavellan added. -We have been told that his next of kin, Delia Greystone, is a regular at the evening mass.-

Ser Kavanaugh arched an eyebrow as his face flecked with a hint of amusem*nt. -What? Aren't you going to insist?- he asked, addressing Cullen. -What happened to that stubborn little boy who pestered me day and night to train him?-

Cullen widened his smile slightly. -He has learned how to choose his battles carefully.- he replied. -I’ll simply tell you that if your community ever needed support, the Inquisition will be ready to assist you.-

-Of course.- exhaled Ser Kavanaugh, then turned his gaze toward the benches. He accosted the two pointing at a salt-and-pepper-haired lady seated in front of the chantress podium. -There. Delia Greystone.- he announced.

Lavellan took a good look at her. She was an elderly woman wearing the granite austerity derived from a life marked by resilience to trauma and sacrifice. She wore the colors of mourning, yet she was clutched in a pink shawl and her hair was styled in anything but a humble manner. Her gaze seemed to block the sermon, although her body was prostrate in the direction of the officiants.

-I had no idea she had any relatives other than her husband.- Ser Kavanaugh admitted, puzzled. -Her daughter died in adolescence.-

Lavellan, who was nosy by nature, smelled family drama and her ears pricked up immediately. -Does anyone know how it happened?- she asked.

Ser Kavanaugh shook his head. -At that time we were investigating the presence of a Maleficar in the hills. The only Templar left in Honnleath, unfortunately, died during the Blight.-

-Were there many Greystones in Honnleath?-

-Only Delia, Thomas and their daughter.-

Cullen retracted his head slightly, confused. -Are you sure?-

-Sure as sunset.- Ser Kavanaugh replied, shifting his gaze to the worshippers who had just risen from the benches after the Mother had dismissed them.

Lavellan didn't wait a moment longer. She walked towards the woman, intercepting her in time to prevent her from leaving. -Excuse me.- she called, lifting her index finger.

Mrs. Greystone opened wide a pair of gray, annoyed eyes in her direction, after recoiling instinctively. -I have no money.- she stated.

-I'm sorry.- replied Lavellan, thus shrugging off the provocation. -May I have a word with you? It's urgent.-

Delia Greystone looked her up and down, then headed for the exit without dignifying her interlocutor with an answer. Lavellan, however, didn’t desist and followed her promptly. -I’m with the Inquisition, Mrs. Greystone. Your grandchildren need help.- she said, flanking the old lady to avoid raising her voice too much. -Currently, they are at the Crossroads, with nothing but themselves and a family name. Could you do me a favor and...-

-Maker's grace, leave me alone!- whimpered the lady, clutching her shawl, genuinely upset. -I don't care what my grandchildren did!-

Lavellan tried to insist but her path was immediately blocked by two men.

-The lady said she's not interested.- said the first one, facing her threateningly.

Lavellan immediately raised her hands in surrender. -I'm with the Inquisition. My intention wasn't to frighten her, I'm here to bring her up to speed on a delicate situation that concerns her family.-

-Tricking a helpless widow to get money out of her. That's what you wanted to do!- intervened the second man, shortening the distance. -I know your kind. Do you have no shame at all?-

Lavellan rolled her eyes. -I don't need money.- she reiterated, then she looked back at Cullen, who had brought himself to her side with a dumbfounded expression. -I swear to June, the only thing I asked was if we could have a word in private.-

Even before Cullen could open his mouth, the first man addressed him. -Keep your servant at bay, sir. This is a place of grace, not a tavern!- he scolded him.

-What? How dare you!- blurted out Cullen, having no idea which way to start taking offense. -Your Worship is neither servant, nor a thief. What kind of behavior is that? Rounding up a lady to falsely accuse her of an offense she did not commit when it's obvious she only wanted to convey information.- he reprimanded them.

-They did the right thing! She was definitely bothering Delia.- intervened a young mother with a little boy attached to her skirt. -I overheard that she was asking for money.- she added.

-Evidently, you misheard.- said Lavellan.

The second man inhaled noisily from his mouth. -Questioning a mother's word? In the house of the Maker?-

Cullen tried to reiterate the absurdity of that situation, but Lavellan prevented him from doing so by resting a hand on his arm. -You're right.- she said, receiving a shocked look in response. -Ours is an urgent and delicate mission, but I should have never involved Mrs. Greystone so directly in such a place.- she then bowed her head. -I apologize.-

-Let's call the Seneschal and see what this apology is worth!- the mother sneered, just as Delia Greystone was leaving the building for good.

The two men exchanged a nod of understanding. -Yeah, that sounds good to...- one began, but he was interrupted by Ser Kavanaugh, who calmly advanced to interpose himself between the two parties.

-I'm surprised at you, gentlemen. Verbally assaulting someone over a misunderstanding is certainly not proper behavior.- he said, protecting Cullen with his back while facing the three. -And you, Brona, what example are you setting for your son by unfairly pointing fingers at another woman just because you think you heard something different from what she said?-

-You never know with these people.- the mother muttered, shooting Lavellan a glare before dragging the kid towards the exit.

-Do you really think I would have stayed put if they were a threat to Delia?- asked Ser Kavanaugh, addressing the others. They cast an uncertain glance at him, but thanks to his intervention they deterred from pressing Lavellan further.

Before walking away, however, one of them turned in her direction. -You'd better behave. Vagabonds of your kind are short-lived here.- he warned her, then he followed his companion outside the Chantry.

Lavellan, who had never stopped clutching Cullen's arm, allowed herself to exhale a moderate sigh of relief.

-Why didn't you let me stand up for you?- Cullen asked her, in a hushed voice.

-She was stalling because I was busy. If you had intervened, the situation would have escalated.- Ser Kavanaugh explained. -I'm the authority here, not the Inquisition.-

Lavellan released her grip, then smoothed the sleeve of Cullen’s jacket where she had crinkled it. -Thanks for seconding me. Usually Cassandra starts barking like a hound and it always ends up in a fight.- she said.

-At what cost? They humiliated you. In a place like this, to top it all!- protested Cullen, clearly annoyed.

Lavellan arched an eyebrow. -Next time then use your head and try to mediate, instead of scolding me for preventing them from attacking us.-

-You asked me not to intervene, if I remember correctly.- he pointed out, then exhaled a weary sigh. -It wasn't pleasant, to put it mildly.-

Lavellan shrugged. -Look at the bright side, at least we discovered a new clue.-

Cullen adopted a puzzled expression, at which she was quick to give an explanation. -She revealed that she had grandchildren, unintentionally. I don't think she wanted to push me away just out of racism.- she said.

-This is... really bizarre.- admitted Ser Kavanaugh, furrowing his forehead. -Her daughter is dead. How is it possible that...- he shut up, and then raised a concerned look towards Cullen. -You're planning to contact her again, I guess.-

-Definitely.- he replied. -Those kids need a place to stay. They'd be safe here.-

-I could intercede for you.- suggested Ser Kavanaugh, crossing his arms.

-Sounds like an excellent idea. When could you assist us?- Lavellan asked him.

Her interlocutor turned his attention to the brazier, made lively by the chantress who was consulting it. -Time to get me relieved and slip into something that wouldn't make her fear the worst.- he replied, turning back to look at Cullen. -Use the backdoor and wait for me there. It won't take long.-

-Thank you, sir.- Cullen said, nodding once.

Ser Kavanaugh tapped a hand on his shoulder, then stepped back, allowing them to leave the building.

*

It started to rain. However, it wasn't a regular rainfall, or a heavy downpour; on the contrary, the atmosphere was soaked with particles of moisture that lingered mid-air as if they were embedded in it, resting solely on what passed through them.

The space between the rear facade of the Chantry and the wall surrounding Fort Elanor was cramped, damp and dimly lit. Fortunately, it was also fairly sheltered from the eyes and ears of the villagers, so it provided some sense of security for those forced to wait outdoors.

-What's the plan?- Cullen asked, seeking Lavellan's gaze in the half-light.

She, who was waiting for their guide with one shoulder leaning against the wall of the chantry, reacted to that question by blinking nervously, because it had distracted her from a meticulous watchfulness. -First, I want to know what granny is hiding from us, then I’ll try to convince her to give asylum to her grandchildren.- she explained. -Which is not too different from the plan we originally laid out. It just got a little more interesting.-

Cullen brought himself in front of her. -I was asking because I have a bad feeling about this.- he said, softly. -And, since we seem to be riding the same horse today, I wondered if you had suspicions as well.-

Lavellan paused to look at him attentively, before replying. -This is the point at which I usually lay out my theory to Varric and he raises ten coppers that the situation is actually far worse than what it seems.- she said, confirming that they were on the same wavelength.

-That man looks like someone who wins a lot at the table, but gains only misery in life.- he commented, slipping his hands into his pockets. He remained silent for a long time, then exhaled a nervous sigh. -Do you really think I wouldn't have been able to de-escalate?-

Lavellan, who was still reflecting on his accurate analysis on Varric, looked at him in confusion. -I don't know.- she admitted, after a while.

-You wanted to have it your way and I trusted you. But to reprimand me for not using my head...- Cullen frowned. -I've been handling analogous situations my whole life. To be called out as incompetent like that in front of my mentor was degrading.-

Lavellan took a step closer, having realizing just in that moment the consequences of her attitude. -I don't think you are incompetent, and I'm sorry for acting like that.- she apologized, finding it unfair to blame nervousness for her own mistakes.

Cullen stared at her sternly. -Are you afraid I want to defend you because I pity you?-

Lavellan took a deep breath, then shook her head. -No, I’m certain you’re not acting out of pity, but I’m afraid you’d do it for the wrong reasons.- she corrected him. -Those were just prejudice-inflated pricks. You would have only wasted your time and they wouldn't have changed their minds anyways. I know you don't see me that way, you don't need to defend me to prove it.-

-I don't have to prove anything to you at all! I don't want you to feel like you’re on your own because you're afraid I want to play the gallant.- he replied, shortening the distance so he wouldn't have to raise his voice. -You said it yourself that we are a team, after all.- he said, resting a hand on her arm.

Lavellan gave him a smirk. -You are a bit of a gallant, to be honest.- she teased.

Cullen snorted a laugh, then let go of her. -You wish!- he said, gesturing in a circular motion with his forearm. -Would you like to walk on my jacket to avoid getting your paws dirty, or would you rather be carried, Your Highness?- he mocked her.

Lavellan offered him a look imbued with false tenderness. -Look at him, you give him a win and he immediately swells up like a bullfrog!- she commented, leaning towards him. -You're taking advantage of me because you know I'm in distress.-

-You're not in distress, you're with me.- he replied, with a certain nonchalance that seemed more forced than a double-locked glass door.

Lavellan tightened her eyelids, turning a completely unconvinced expression on him. -We'll have to keep working on this.- she said, patting on his chest a couple of times.

Cullen chuckled lightly. -I wasn't flirting, I was being serious.- he said, looking her in the eye.

They shared a smile that would have melted a perpetual glacier, for then converging their attention on the back exit of the chantry, in which Ser Kavanaugh, who had shed his armor to wear his uniform, just appeared.

He motioned them to follow, while moving towards the main street. -Her house is not far from here, but in reality nothing is too far in general in Fort Elanor.- he said, once they were within earshot. -I suggest you let me do the talking first, so you can introduce the situation without stressing her out. Delia is a tough woman on the outside, but she is actually very fragile. I have known her since... - his face contracted onto an annoyed expression. -...since she didn't have white hair.- he concluded, in a whisper.

Cullen and Lavellan exchanged a look of understanding, failing to hold back a smirk.

-Say, what kind of person is she?- asked the latter. -Who should we expect?

Ser Kavanaugh pondered before answering. -A respectable person.-

-I've heard that one before.- muttered Lavellan. -Something less vague?-

Her interlocutor cast a quick glance behind his shoulder. -I said I know her, not that I'm her confidant.- he replied.

Lavellan arched an eyebrow, doubtful, since that didn't sound like a plausible statement to her. She looked for her own perplexity in Cullen's face, only to find an expression totally oblivious to the telepathic question she was throwing at him. Defeated, she decided to let it go.

Once they were across the main street, they found themselves in an alley barely illuminated by the windows and unlocked doors of the houses on either side of the path. Lavellan's gaze studied the surroundings carefully, looking for reassurances to soothe her paranoia; unfortunately it only served to reinforce it.

As a matter of fact, they found themselves passing by several open doors on their way, guarded by worried individuals. Even the presence of Ser Kavanaugh didn’t seem to instill in them enough confidence to identify the newcomers as a harmless presence.

Speaking of the escort, he stopped a few steps from the end of the alley, to nod at a door nearby. -We have arrived.- he announced, turning in the duo's direction. -Stay here, it'll take just a moment.-

Lavellan’s mouth anticipated Cullen’s by a thousandth of a second. -If you don't mind, we'll tag along.- she said.

Ser Kavanaugh gave her a piercing stare, remarking that way how obvious his opposition to the plan was. However, when he realized that the alley was turning into an open-air amphitheater of people sick with disapproval, lacking only rotten fruit to get the certificate of an angry mob, he decided not to press the matter and knocked firmly on the door.

-Delia, it's me. Can you open?- he answered, when asked by the resident to identify himself.

It took the old lady a minute to open, but not even a moment to change her mind, after peeking outside.

It was Cullen's turn to anticipate Lavellan. He slipped a foot between the door and its frame, preventing the lady from abandoning an obligatory conversation for the second time. -I'm sorry, but it's urgent.- he said, allowing Lavellan to slip inside while Ser Kavanaugh's expression dropped an unspoken reprimand.

-I already told you I'm not interested in charity work!- blurted out Mrs. Greystone, trying to shoo the unwanted guests away with a walking stick, retrieved on the fly from an umbrella stand.

-You can keep your charity for yourself, I'm doing better than you!- Lavellan retorted, dodging the blows with ease. -The same, however, can’t be said about your grandchildren.-

-I don't care. Get out of my house, now!-

Ser Kavanaugh grabbed the stick before the lady could smash a crocheted picture. He shot her an annoyed look, then hurried to close the door again, while Cullen was passing a thorough glance over the hall of the house, laden with dust and cramped with nostalgic trinkets. -Delia, let her finish, please.- said the templar, an accent of disapproval in his voice.

-No, I won’t, because I know exactly what she wants to ask me!- Mrs. Greystone exclaimed abruptly, taking back her walking stick to put it back, just as brusquely, where she had found it. Once hands-free, she clutched nervously at the robe she was wearing for the night. -Her kind shake your hand first, then they steal every bone inside your arm. They spend their lives chasing squirrels, then when they see how well we live, they take advantage of our compassion and plant themselves in our houses like goddamn rats!-

Lavellan looked around with uncertainty. -Honestly, I prefer squirrels.- she commented. -At least those don't carry mold stains and old man smell.-

-That's what my slacker son-in-law used to say before he forced my daughter to sell her dowry and run off with him to Maker knows where.-

-Oof.- exhaled Lavellan, with a spark of satisfaction in his gaze. -Then I was right. You don't hold it against elves just because the Chantry says we are little more developed than animals, there really is drama involved!- she took her time to enjoy that ephemeral victory, then her expression became serious all of a sudden. -I would love to stay here and pretend that your insults are affecting me, Mrs. Greystone, but the situation is very critical. As I told you before, your grandchildren are in serious trouble, they need a safe haven to regain stability.-

Delia Greystone exclaimed a laugh unburdened by amusem*nt. -Well, serves my clueless daughter right! She gave up her legacy and the support of her family. Now...-

Cullen ran a hand over his forehead, looking very unhappy. -Madam, it no longer matters.- he intervened, interrupting her. -I regret to inform you that your daughter and son-in-law are dead. It’s time to put this story behind and think about the future. Like Your Worship said, your grandchildren urgently need to find a place to stay and you’re their closest relative.-

Mrs. Greystone tightened her lips, genuinely annoyed at being interrupted. Her gaze steeped in contempt, despite the news she had just received. -What I’m supposed to do? Should I pretend that nothing happened and welcome the fruit of my daughter's betrayal under my roof?-

-Those are just kids, victims of a conflict too big for even us adults to understand. They have no idea of what happened between you two, and frankly, I think that's the least of their problems.- Cullen replied.

-Oh, sure!- Delia Greystone scoffed, looking down on him. -So the Inquisition will be able to brag about having done a charitable deed, while I would be forced to live with the consequences of the irresponsibility of a daughter I disowned.-

-They're not consequences, Dels, they're children.- Ser Kavanaugh intervened.

-They aren't just children.- Lavellan added, observing the lady with growing repulsion. -For her it would mean admitting to the world that she preferred to say her daughter was dead, rather than revealing her failure as a parent.-

-Enough with the judgments, rabbit!- Delia Greystone cast a dreadful glance at her. -I told her she should have stayed. She would have married Mr. Thrustdale, as agreed, giving him normal children. Then she would have inherited her father's business and helped her family to get by, as expected of a responsible girl.- she shrugged, turning her head elsewhere. -I don't expect savages to understand what decency means.-

-You’re right, I don't understand. The decency I'm used to is allowing the people you love to make mistakes, and supporting them in their decisions, even when we disagree. It's giving them a safe harbor when they find themselves in trouble, despite the fact that they have chosen a different path than the one prepared for them.- Lavellan paused, to swallow down her frustration. -What do you do with the identity of a respectable person if you can't even find two damn mattresses for some children who own nothing but despair?-

Delia Greystone looked at her for a long time, genuinely annoyed by such lecture, then turned to Ser Kavanaugh. -I told you they're all the same, didn't I? Ready to take advantage of you as soon as you give them a chance to open their mouths.-

-Actually, we haven't told you about the compensation yet.- Cullen said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lavellan mentally thanked him for the assist, because in doing so he took a shortcut to negotiation.

-As you may have heard, the Inquisition is guided by the Left and the Right Hand of the Divine. We don’t lack funds.- he continued, as calmly as he could. -We could offer you a dignified sum to cover the costs of travel and living expenses for a while, so as to ease this difficult transition for you and your grandchildren.-

Ser Kavanaugh glared at him, embarrassed by that suggestion. He turned back to Delia Greystone, ready to apologize for his old pupil's attitude but he was greeted by an expression tainted with interest, which dissuaded him from opening his mouth, leaving him stunned.

-Would the Inquisition be willing to compensate for the inconvenience if I decided to accommodate the children until they reach maturity?- the lady asked, softening her voice for the first time since that conversation began.

Cullen nodded. -As long as both parties agree, of course.-

Delia Greystone paused to analyze the proposal, stroking her lower lip with her index finger, looking absorbed.

-Are you really thinking about it, Dels?- Ser Kavanaugh intervened.

She chased away the rebuke with a gesture. -And how much would the Inquisition be willing to give me for their upkeep?-

Lavellan looked at Cullen, then at the lady. -Considering the journey, the installation and general expenses, I would say that one gold sovereign each might be enough, unless you think the price doesn't match the inconvenience.- she suggested.

-Four.- raised the lady, categorically. -Per year.- she added, resting her hands on her hips.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he shifted his gaze to Lavellan. His expression was tinged with impatience.

-We'll have an agent ready to contact you later this week.- Lavellan declared, bringing herself beside his colleague. -I suggest that you don't slam the door in their face, or accuse them of thievery, because our colleagues are much less accommodating than us in handling insults.-

Delia Greystone didn't seem intimidated by that warning. -I'll keep that in mind.- she said, then pointed to the door, brusquely. -Now, if you don't mind...-

Cullen didn't even bother to say goodbye. He rushed to the door and held it open for the others, waiting until they had exited before leaving the house himself, looking as if he had just swallowed a pill the size of a calf.

-"A respectable person."- Lavellan said, once in the street. She was clearly addressing Ser Kavanaugh, who appeared genuinely disappointed with how the whole matter had turned out.

The man, in fact, seemed to have lost the will to take sides. -I would blame it on the trauma she suffered and her recent loss, but...- he looked at Cullen, who in the meantime had moved to Lavellan's side to rest a hand on her back. -It was the only way to convince her, wasn't it?- he asked.

Cullen sighed. -Unfortunately, yes. It was standard practice when I used to bargain with very poor families to convince them to surrender their children to the Circle.- he explained. -I'm surprised that she accepted on the spot. Even in poverty, a grandmother would show a modicum of indignation, when faced with such a proposition.-

-Pity that her shame was more pressing.- Lavellan commented, lifting her gaze in Cullen's direction. -We were right to talk to her, though. At least we have other solutions to sift through now.-

Cullen raised his eyebrows on a surprised look, a glimmer of hope began to lighten his gaze. -I thought this was the only viable option.-

Lavellan shook her head, turning a half-smile to him. -There are always...-

She was forced to stop talking, because a handful of people had just gathered a few meters away from the group, with full intention of figuring out what was going on.

Ser Kavanaugh hurried to intervene. -Move along. Nothing to see here.- he said, bringing himself in defense of the pair.

-What does the Inquisition want from Delia?- a stocky man at the head of the small group of bystanders asked. Lavellan recognized him immediately; he was the guard who had greeted them when they arrived.

-These are private matters, Moran. There is no need to be so aggressive.- Ser Kavanaugh scolded him, moving a step in his direction. -Delia is fine, you can ask her yourself once we are gone.-

-From the tone of the conversation, it seems to me that it went anything but well.- intervened an equally altered woman, pointing her finger at Lavellan. -Reg and Brona told me that this one attacked Delia at service, and the stable boy referred that she tried to scam him.-

-Lies.- asserted Cullen.

-I vouch for these people.- Ser Kavanaugh continued, instinctively resting a hand on the hilt of his sword. -You should take my word for it, since I’ve been serving the community long before the Blight.-

-Maybe we need to discuss the state of your discernment, since you're harboring rogues. It's well known that the Inquisition consists of a handful of heretics.- Moran insisted, getting closer.

-Come on, Moran! I blessed your newborn daughter last week!- snapped Ser Kavanaugh, opening a hand in his direction. -Do you really think I would shelter people who might put at risk the safety of the village? May I remind you that it was Matthias and I who led you here, during the Blight?-

-We want clarity, Evan. That's all.-

-Clearer than that there's only glass!- rebuked Ser Kavanaugh, facing the crowd sternly.

Cullen leaned slightly towards Lavellan. -Can I intervene now?- he asked, whispering.

She exhaled a wearisome sigh. -I swear to June, if this ends up in a fight, I'll rip your hair out one by one and make Cassandra a brand new wig for her dummies.- she threatened him.

-I bet ten coppers that all will be just fine.- he joked, distancing himself to reach his old mentor. He raised his hands in surrender, moving with slow but sure steps towards the discussion.

-Gentlemen, good evening.- he said, looking each individual in the group in the eye. -My name is Cullen Rutherford, I'm the acting commander of the Inquisition army.- he introduced himself, gradually lowering his hands to strike a martial pose. -We are here neither to cause a disturbance nor to fuel concern. We took advantage of Amalia Sulzbacher's hospitality in return for the help we provided her in Honnleath earlier in the afternoon in which the Herald of Andraste- he pointed to Lavellan -closed a tear in the Veil in the mansion where Amalia was born and raised.-

-That doesn't justify your attitude!- exclaimed Moran. -You have no right to harass an elderly lady during mass and break into her house like thugs!-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -To my knowledge, the only person being harassed here is Your Worship, who despite being here to reunite a family has been unfairly blamed for crimes she has never committed.- he specified. -We followed the rules from the very beginning, just like any of you would under similar circ*mstances. We even approached the authorities, even if we could very well have used our influence to get Mrs. Greystone’s door opened with much less forethought.- he paused. -After all, I lead an army and I don't think the Left Hand wouldn’t allow me to break down a door, if justified by the severity of the situation.-

The woman in the group shook her head vehemently, then turned a look full of contempt on Ser Kavanaugh. -This is the people you're protecting, Evan. They're just bullies.-

-No, if we really were, we would have already called for support from our escort.- Cullen said. -Instead, the Herald chose to act in the open, personally, even though she knew she would receive nothing but insults.- he paused again, to let his words sink in. -You should thank her.-

Lavellan shrugged, slapping the air to pretend it wasn't a big deal. Cullen gave her a brief smile, then turned back to the crowd. -Now, if you excuse us, we would like to pass through.-

-Not until you clarify the real purpose of your visit to Delia, and how long you are staying.- the woman in the crowd said, crossing arms over her chest.

-We're leaving tomorrow, at sunrise.- replied Cullen, decisive. -As to why, that's between Mrs. Greystone and the Inquisition. If she ever wants to share our conversation with you, she's free to do so, but we would prefer to avoid it, out of respect for the parties involved.-

Moran and the woman shared an unconvinced look, then the former turned to Ser Kavanaugh. -Is he speaking the truth?-

The Templar nodded. -Rutherford holds my complete trust.-

The crowd discussed briefly what had just happened, making the three wait very little before opening a path through to allow them to pass. -If anything happens, Evan, we will bring it to the Seneshal.- said one of the people, failing to intimidate Ser Kavanaugh, who simply walked away.

-Have a good evening.- greeted Cullen, bowing his head. He immediately hurried alongside Lavellan, placing a hand between her shoulder blades.

She let him guide her gladly, wearing an expression that was both surprised and satisfied. -Bummer! I had my scissors ready.- she joked.

Cullen indulged her with a grin. -Because you are a woman of poor faith.-

-How did you know about the escort, by the way?-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -It was a bluff.- he replied, lowering his voice.

Lavellan pointed to a silhouette lurking on a rooftop, to whom she gave a quick greeting. Cullen watched them reciprocate, genuinely shocked. -How did she find us so soon?- he cried, for then changing his attitude drastically. -Why am I acting so brand new? It's Leliana.- he mumbled, in resignation.

Lavellan laughed heartily at that reaction.

Ser Kavanaugh glanced at the two for a moment, then led them in front of the inn, already crowded with patrons. There they found Amalia, who was bundled up in a heavy cloak, rubbing her hands together to ward off the cold.

To the implied question written in the girl's curious expression, Lavellan replied with a nonchalant nod. -Your fellow villagers are so nice and welcoming!- she commented, bringing herself in front of her.

-I tried to reason with them, but it was no use. I'm sorry. I hope they didn't bother you too much.- Amalia said, looking at no one in particular. -We're a cautious bunch, so we tend to look out for each other.-

Ser Kavanaugh ran a hand through his hair, nervously. -I'll mention this to the Mother before dinner. Surely, she'll be as upset as I am about the treatment you've received.- he intervened. -In the meantime, please accept my apologies.-

Lavellan shrugged. -Don’t lose sleep over it. I've seen and heard much worse.-

Cullen on the other hand presented him with half a smile. -Thank you.- he said.

Amalia looked at the two, then at the inn, then cleared her throat. -Tomorrow morning I plan to return to Honnleath for a final inspection. Perhaps we could ride there together.- she suggested, with a subtle touch of nervousness in her tone of voice. Lavellan smiled as she noticed a tinge of redness forming on Amalia's cheeks as she was addressing her colleague exclusively.

Cullen, intent to shake hands with Ser Kavanaugh, who was also about to take his leave, hastened to nod. -That would be ideal, thanks. That way we could continue our conversation about the measures to be taken in case we were forced to...- he flinched, in response to a nudge.

-What he meant to say is that we would be really excited about it.- Lavellan corrected him. -Would you keep us company for a while now, though?-

Amalia immediately brought a hand to her chest. -Oh, no, the inn is not the place for a proper lady at this hour.- she replied, shaking her head.

Immediately Lavellan lost her smile, as well as the use of words. Fortunately, Ser Kavanaugh managed to draw attention to himself as he officially waved goodbye. -I'm not good at keeping up a regular correspondence, but I’d really like to read your terrible handwriting again, from time to time.- he said, patting a hand on Cullen's arm.

The latter chuckled, lacing his hands behind his back. -Now that you know where I am, you might as well come and pay me a visit.- he suggested. -Only the Maker knows how much we need experienced officers.-

-My place is here, Rutherford. I thought I made myself clear.- Ser Kavanaugh replied, directing a kind smile at him. He then shifted his gaze to Lavellan, offering her a hand to shake. -It was a pleasure, Your Worship.-

She honored that gesture. -Likewise, sir.-

-Ah, Rutherford, one last thing.- Ser Kavanaugh said, lowering his voice dramatically as he took his former pupil aside. -The road you are going through is a very, very dangerous one. The moment will come when you'll have serious doubts about what is real and what is the consequence of illusion.- he paused, to look him straight in the eye. -When that happens, remember that it's no sin to ask for help.-

Cullen took his time, before nodding. -Everything is under control, sir.- he reassured him.

Ser Kavanaugh, however, seemed unconvinced by that answer. He passed a hand over his interlocutor's head, then gave him a brief smile. -May Andraste preserve you in this quest of yours.- he wished him, and then headed towards Amalia. -Here, young lady, I'm walking you home. A girl of your age shouldn't linger outside at night.-

Cullen returned to Lavellan's side, waving a hand in the direction of the two as they walked away. -You heard it all, I guess.- he said, carrying a note of discomfort in his voice.

She, who really heard everything but had absolutely no intention of meddling in something that looked very personal to him, shook her head. -I got distracted after being called a slu*t by whom I thought was the only decent person in this place.- she replied, then exhaled a sigh in frustration. -Should I have eavesdropped? Was it important?- she asked, to clear any doubts.

Cullen pondered for several moments, choosing to gloss over the question at last. -Can I tempt you with a comfort beer?- he asked, extending his arm to accompany her inside the inn.

Lavellan turned a wry smile on him. -You want the comfort beer. Just say it.- she teased, hurrying to wrap his arm before he changed his mind on physical contact. -I owe you ten pieces of copper, after all.-

-I don't want your junk!- he joked, receiving a playful push in response.

Chapter 4: Grace

Chapter Text

The inn was packed and everyone had a different opinion about Amalia's guests. Fortunately, after the third round of beer most of the patrons began to relax, dropping comments and dirty looks to engage in games, songs, mutual ear-pulling, and gossip.

Lavellan welcomed that change with a certain relief, but she made an effort to stay alert.

Needing to feed themselves somehow, Cullen and Lavellan were compelled to occupy a table and order whatever was available to be consumed quickly, so that they could leave without drawing further attention to themselves.

However, when a whole roasted chicken, complete with fried cabbage, fresh bread, accompanied by two tall, frothy beers was laid in front of them, the two threw the original plan out of their system. After all, it seemed rude to reject a good meal for the sake of being afraid of some patrons too drunk to complete a sentence without burping breaks.

-You said earlier that the conversation led you to think about alternatives.- Cullen said, after cleaning his satiated palate with a sip of beer. -Care to explain?-

Lavellan, who was tormenting a piece of bread, looked around quickly. -The fact that those kids are probably elf-blooded made me think of the Dalish.- she obliged, rolling a crumb between her fingers. -I could contact them personally and turn the kids over to a Keeper, so that they would be raised following their father's legacy.-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -You don’t look too convinced.-

-You're right. It's not the logical solution.-

-The logical solution?-

Lavellan stared at him for a long time, uncertain whether to elaborate or not, then she relaxed her features. She made three balls of bread crumbs and arranged them in a triangle, within the space between their plates. -There are always three kinds of approaches to problem solving. The logical solution.- she indicated the sphere closest to her -the emotional solution- she indicated the sphere closest to him -and the solution of convenience.- she concluded, grasping the furthest crumb between her fingers to show it to him. -We considered only this one.-

-Mrs. Greystone.-

-Exactly.-

-So, by exclusion, choosing the Dalish would be the emotional solution.-

-Yep, because I would approach them immediately and, with the reputation I earned during the last Arlathvhen, several clans would welcome those kids without much thought.- Lavellan admitted. -The problem is that they would live a life of isolation and nomadism. They would be happy on one side, but they would be deprived of the social freedom they would have in an environment like this. They're basically Humans, born and raised in a human setting. It would be a drastic change for them.-

Cullen nodded slowly. -I would be like, locking them up in a cloister.-

-Except that, in that case, they wouldn’t risk to get beaten up whenever they visit the nearest village.-

-So, what would be the logical solution?-

Lavellan rested an elbow on the table, leaning in Cullen's direction. She studied him for good, running her gaze over his face as if she were in search of a clue. When she found it, she finally decided to open her mouth. -Based on the information we've gathered, what would you do?-

Cullen pushed the empty plate away from himself, adopting the same stance as Lavellan as he moved a little closer to her. He took on a pensive expression, bringing his gaze up to the leftovers of their dinner. -I'd make the kid aware of both options he has, including pros and cons, then I'd let him decide by himself.- he replied, turning back to look at her. -From what you told me, he's old enough to make such an important decision on his own.-

Lavellan hinted at a smile. -What was the saying you used before? The one with the horses.-

Cullen exhaled a laugh. -That we're riding the same horse.- he answered her, with a note of amusem*nt in his voice. -Basically the logical solution is the simplest solution.-

-Usually, yeah. But it's not always the best pick, although it's my favorite.- Lavellan admitted. She remained silent for several moments, fiddling with the crumb balls on the table before beginning to laugh softly.

Cullen, who hadn't stopped watching her for a moment, raised an eyebrow above a confused smile.

-If Cassandra were here, I think she would perform a full-blown exorcism.- Lavellan said.

-And why is that?-

-We found a consensus. For several times in a single day, by the way.-

Cullen exposed his teeth as his smile broadened. For some bizarre reason, in that context it was natural for him to do an action that happened quite seldom. -She would, yeah.-

-I thought it would take months before reaching this point.- she added. -Where you'd feel comfortable in my company, I mean.-

-What are you talking about?-

Lavellan gave him an eloquent look. -We are at such a distance that we can hear each other's thoughts and you haven't recoiled in embarrassment yet.- she explained.

Cullen went rigid, holding his breath in realizing how close they really were.

Lavellan, genuinely amused, decided to add to the joke. -They call it "a kissing distance".- she poked him, struggling to hold back a laugh.

Cullen ran a hand over his face, sitting back down composedly. -I hate you.- he muttered. Although uncomfortable, his embarrassment made him realize Lavellan had not touched the beer and her plate was spotless.

He tried to comment to divert the attention, but he was immediately interrupted by a pair of hands that clasped his shoulders.

He went rigid again, as the face of a man in his thirties appeared below his right shoulder.

The newcomer was wearing a smile that creepy was an understatement, and he was dressed following Denerim’s fashion. His black hair was tied in a complex braid and he had a sly look on his face. -Osric told me your last name is Rutherford. I knew a Rutherford, back in the day. Branson.-

Cullen raised his eyebrows, surprised. -He's my brother.- he confessed, without thinking.

The man burst out laughing, then pointed Cullen out to a small group of tipsy-looking patrons sitting at a nearby table. -Did I or did I not tell you this was meant to be?- he said, taking a seat next to Cullen. -We were supposed to leave today for Highever, but my business partner caught a full-blown pneumonia and we had to postpone.- he rested a hand on his victim's shoulder, tightening his grip in shortening the distance. -Look at you, Bran's brother, all grown up!- he said, then shifted a mischievous glance to Lavellan. -You've even got yourself an elven servant. Well done, well done.-

Accustomed to expecting the worst when interacting with Humans, Lavellan preemptively unfastened the latch of her hunting knife, because his voice gave her the impression that it came with a standoffish temperament.

-We actually work together, for the Inquisition.- Cullen replied, releasing himself from the grip to point at his colleague. -She's the Herald of Andraste.-

-The one who closes the rifts?- asked a boy who had approached the table, scanning her from head to toe with an unconvinced look.

-I can walk on my hands too.- joked Lavellan, without putting too much enthusiasm into it.

The black-haired man thought about it for just a moment, then he returned to physically assaulting Cullen's shoulder. -Bran's brother.- he repeated, softly. -Same cheekbones too, damn! And what happened to Rosalie? Did she marry eventually?-

Cullen froze. -Eventually?-

The man emphasized his already unpleasant grin, turning on an expression borderline slimy. -Ah, she had a flock of suitors back in the day!-

-I admit I haven't heard from my siblings in a while.- Cullen said, failing to suppress an accent of annoyance. -Who do I have the pleasure of talking with, by the way?-

-"Pleasure."- Lavellan echoed him skeptically, hiding her face behind the glass of water she was about to drink.

The newcomer spread an arm outwards. -I am rudeness personified!- he exclaimed, making his acolytes laugh. He picked up Cullen's hand from the table, trapping it between his own. -Hugh Underhill, at your service!- he introduced himself, then addressed Lavellan. -Since you're not doing anything, how about refilling our mugs?-

She remained unperturbed. -Would you like a plate of cold cuts, along with all the f*cks I give?- she replied, dryly.

The boy behind Hugh gave a scornful laugh. -Watch out, lads, this one has a sharp tongue!-

-She's not the only one who can't take a joke.- intervened one of Hugh’s friends, reaching Lavellan with an oblique glance.

Cullen freed himself from the grip, to retrieve a sip of beer. -If I were you, I would be very careful when you address Your Worship.- he suggested to them, eloquently. -If you keep this up, you might risk to annoy someone less patient than her.-

The atmosphere around the table took on a tinge of nervousness. The patron who had intervened before stretched out towards Cullen, while the others began to look at him nervously.

-Ah, they're all smoke and no fire!- Hugh downplayed, snapping his fingers to get the attention of the innkeeper, who was serving a couple of rather tipsy customers. -Two beers, old man! We're dry here.- he ordered.

-I'm good.- Cullen stated, lifting his mug. -Tomorrow we face a long journey; we'll retire to our rooms shortly.-

Lavellan's face assumed a shade of relief. In contrast, Hugh showed Cullen his displeasure with a cry of annoyance. -Come on, the night is young! Osric hasn't opened the good barrel yet!- he said, trying to persuade them to stay. -When do I get the chance to chat with an old friend again?-

Cullen ran a doubtful glance over him.

Hugh, however, would not let go. -Bran's brother.- he repeated, rubbing his hands together. -You became a knight at last. Osric mentioned you are even an important guy in the Inquisition.-

The innkeeper, who was setting the beers down on the table, raised his head towards Hugh when he heard his name. -Don't get me involved.- he scolded the man, patting a hand on his back in a friendly manner as he walked away.

Without a response to work with, Hugh changed the subject. -I heard you gave an old woman a stroke during mass.- he said, encircling Cullen's shoulders with an arm.

-A misunderstanding.- replied the latter, disentangling himself immediately.

Hugh, upon seeing his limb returning at its place, decided to place it on the table, clapping a hand in front of Lavellan. -Make yourself useful, lass. Hand me that chicken.-

She gave him a smile as fake as brass. -Sorry, I just lost the use of my hands.- she replied.

The man laughed loudly, addressing Cullen. -You chose a rotten one.- he said. -You're totally like your brother: too soft with inferiors. If you want, I can teach you how to put her in her place.-

Cullen glowered at him. -Be very careful now, before doing something you’ll regret.- he warned him.

Hugh nodded slowly, as if he had just discovered what for him was the key lead to solving a crime that had already been filed for months. -You are such a weasel!- he exclaimed, indicating Cullen eloquently. -I would never have guessed it, since you don't look like one of them, but I totally get it.- he said, prompting hilarity from his acolytes. -A man has his nee…-

Lavellan interrupted him by planting her hunting knife on the table with a sharp move. She gave him a tremendous look, so foreign to her personality that it profoundly altered her features. A clear invitation not to go any further could be read in her behavior, but her eyes contradicted her, conveying the idea that if that conversation had continued, she would have gladly acted without qualms.

-Leave.-

The looks of those who weren't too drunk to suffer concern converged on her and several conversations ceased instantly. The innkeeper, who was serving a nearby table, took on an intimidated expression.

Cullen, whose face wore the same annoyance as Lavellan's, cleared his throat. -The lady spoke her mind.- he said, simply.

Hugh ran a startled glance over the blade, gulping. -It was just banter. No need to get upset.- he protested, backing away slowly as he raised his hands in surrender.

-Still here?- asked Lavellan, with a particularly authoritative tone of voice.

The man nodded quickly, then backed away, looking nervously over his shoulder.

Lavellan followed him with her eyes, watching him reach the table of his acolytes to complain, but none of them seemed to be willing to take action, certain that the situation wouldn't have favored them in any way.

When he was far enough, Lavellan extracted the knife off the wood with ease, and replaced it with a handful of coins. -That should be enough for the repairs.- she said, addressing the innkeeper, who didn’t cease to stare at her since the altercation began.

Osric relaxed his shoulders, then went back to serving tables as if nothing had happened.

It took a minute before the tense atmosphere started to fade, allowing the patrons of the inn to regain liveliness. A minute that Cullen used to empty his mug, to loosen the knot of disgust that clogged his insides.

-Can we go now?- Lavellan asked, in no mood to downplay what had just happened.

Cullen stood up straight away, waiting for her so that she could anticipate him.

They made their way to the second floor religiously silent, moving without haste to give the idea that the situation had not disturbed them. Once Cullen was in front of his room, he rested a hand on the doorknob, then took a deep breath. -Wait a minute.- he said.

Lavellan stopped in order to pay attention to him.

-It took me less than expected to realize how detrimental this situation was for you.- he initiated, looking nervous. -But it was stupid anyway not to give credit to your concern in the first place. I'm sorry.-

She didn't answer, as she would rather eye at him with increasing curiosity.

Cullen turned entirely in her direction, resting his hands on the hips. -I can't assist you properly if we’re sleeping in separate rooms.- he said, nodding at her door.

Lavellan raised her eyebrows, curving her lips into a half-smile. -Are you sure? Aren't you afraid they might think ill of me anymore?- she asked him, advancing one step in his direction.

He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze elsewhere. -Of course I am, but I'm more concerned about your safety.- he admitted.

Lavellan patted him on the shoulder, then stepped past him, darting inside his room. Cullen released the tension with a brief smile, then followed her, shutting the door behind.

They decided to take two-hour guard shifts each, until dawn.

Lavellan suggested she would cover the first turn herself but Cullen insisted, as concern had robbed him of sleep.

She, who had no strength left to argue, simply gave up and took up the bed closest to the window. After having laid down, she decided to turn her back to her roommate, to avoid making him more uncomfortable than he already was.

Nothing to say, that act of courtesy allowed Cullen to relax his shoulders, enabling him to concentrate on his task without feeling the heaviness of Lavellan's gaze on the back of his head. He sat down on the floor, resting his back on the edge of the mattress, then he stretched his legs out while staring at the door as if it would explode at any moment.

A few minutes went by before he heard a huff of boredom behind him. At first, he made an effort to ignore it, but after the third sound of annoyance in less than five minutes he found himself looking up in resignation. -Can't sleep?- he asked.

Lavellan snuggled up in the blanket, straining to keep her eyes closed. -I was thinking, unfortunately. And when I start, it's impossible to stop the gears.- she explained, in a half-voice.

Cullen, who suffered from the same condition, leaned the back of his head on the edge of the bed, brushing the ceiling with his gaze. -What's troubling you?-

Lavellan took a deep breath, before pouring a wheelbarrow of thoughts on him. -I think the Seneschal is nowhere in the village, otherwise we would have had him in our way instantly. I guess they sent word for him, but he backed out. If he really wanted to intervene, we would have been detained somewhere by now. Probably, he feels that minding his business is more urgent than an interview with the Inquisition.-

-Considering Chantry's opinion on us, I guess he doesn't want to have anything to do with the situation.-

-It could also indicate that he doesn't consider us to be dangerous, and that works out all too well for me.-

Cullen shrugged. -That makes two of us. It would have held us up needlessly for an issue that stole us only a few hours.-

-What's more, I think Amalia isn’t a mage. I say it because the Anchor didn't react to any magic as it does with Solas, when we fight side by side. In addition, there were no seals or magical protections in her house to keep the demons away.- she caught her breath. -Moreover, if she were an apostate, she wouldn't have approached you in the slightest. Then again, in a village where bigotry reigns it would be surprising to see a mage treated better than an elf.-

-That’s… odd. Why would she have a staff on her, though?-

-I guess it's a family heirloom that she carries around because it gives her confidence. She didn't have blisters, or splinters, on her palms, did you notice that?-

-She was wearing gloves.-

-Not tonight.-

Cullen furrowed his brow. -It was very dark.-

Lavellan tossed back in bed, to turn in his direction. -It was very dark for you .- she pointed out, aiming at her eyes, which reflected the little light in the room. -A girl who regularly uses a staff like that shouldn't have more well-groomed hands than Josephine's.-

Cullen laughed to himself. -You got upset because she called you a slu*t, admit it.-

-Actually, that's not the only thing I was thinking about.- Lavellan admitted, ignoring the teasing. -Where do you keep the comb?-

Cullen retracted his head, frowning. -What does a comb have to do with it now?-

-We've been out since this morning, soaking wet, and you don't have a single hair out of place. Even after training, your second in command is always shaggy like a duckling while your head looks like it's carved in marble. I doubt you're using magic so there must be a comb involved. I've never seen you use it, though, and that’s driving me crazy!-

-Really?-

Lavellan exhaled a low sigh. -No.- she confessed, in a whisper.

They went quiet for several minutes, both absorbed in thoughts.

The issue wasn't a comb, or a staff. The real discussion gravitated around the fact that Lavellan couldn't feel safe and the idea of walking away from a risky place to return to an environment where she regularly found herself in trouble, because of her identity, fed her hunger for facetiousness, turning it into neurosis. It was a coping mechanism, there to prevent her from cracking under the weight of her trauma.

Cullen could understand this well enough to feel obligated to come to her aid.

He slipped a hand inside his pockets and pulled out a small rectangular leather case, waving it over his head. -Comb, razor, and a bar of soap. It’s vital for a Templar to look tidy at all times.-

Lavellan clapped a hand on the mattress, emphatically. -I knew it!- she exclaimed, and then pointed to it. -We should give one of those to every soldier. We would be the envy of all nobles!-

-I tried, seriously. Sadly, I was only able to convince those who wanted to flatter me to get a promotion.- he complained, after putting the item away. -Soldiers are a stubborn breed.-

-Are they?- she asked, with obvious sarcasm.

Cullen looked at her sideways. -Yeah.- he answered, for then sitting back down composedly to hide an amused expression from her. -Let me ask you a question now. Why don't you drink? Don't you like it, or what?-

-There's a reason, yeah.- she said. -I can't stomach alcohol.-

Cullen immediately assumed an uncertain expression. -You don't stomach... Your Worship, it's basically a fluid!-

-A fluid made from things I can't digest.-

-So the problem is not alcohol, it's wheat.-

-Wheat, bread, milk...- she listed. -Name it and wait for my stomach to say “nope”.-

-Seriously?-

-Seriously.-

-Explains why you didn't touch the food earlier.-

Lavellan lingered on that comment for a while. -Yeah.- she said. She snuggled her blanket as she observed the back of Cullen's head with curiosity. She was hesitant whether to turn up the heat or let it go, but her instincts got the better of her. -Just because we are finally at a point in which we’re running out of reasons to be embarrassed...- she began. -I didn't mean to tease you when I said that suit looked good on you. I was just trying to play it down, because you seemed to be in a lot of distress.- she lowered her voice. -If you hadn't guessed, I'm a pro at downplaying.-

Cullen gulped silently. -Was it so obvious?-

-No.- she reassured him. -And you really look like a southern gentleman. One that helps you get off the horse.- she articulated. -But you are already that kind of person, so it's a bit of a meaningless compliment.-

-I've never helped you get off a horse.- he pointed out, wearing a timid smile.

Lavellan hesitated, then burst out laughing. -Should I remind you that you made us waste twenty silvers on a room we're not even using?- she called him out, running a hand over her forehead.

-I care for your dignity, okay? No matter what a peasant girl says, anyone who knows you would never dare to consider you anything less than an example of grace.- he affirmed, pointing in front of him with his outstretched hand. -Because that's who you are, beyond your role, and it confuses me deeply to see all comes down to a racial issue every damn time.- he blocked a possible retort from her in the bud, with a firm gesture. -Don't you dare to downplay this!-

She blinked, instinctively covering her mouth with a corner of the blanket.

Cullen took a deep breath, encouraged by the chance to express himself without having to look his interlocutor in the eye as he brought to light a feeling that he was dragging around within himself for several hours. -I said grace, yes. It shows in the way you fight, in the way you act, and in the way you deal with decisions.- he paused, to swallow his nervousness. -You possess all its facets. You are kind, generous... it's an aspect of you that shines much brighter than the mark on your hand. Few people have it and many pretend to have it, but it comes naturally to you.- he bowed his head, lowering his voice dramatically. -I wish I told you earlier, when I saw you leaving the room.-

Lavellan was so stunned by that analysis that she was left speechless. She, who had a quick answer for everything, in that moment felt at fault for wanting to intervene on something so precious. Had she tried to match the compliment, she would have belittled it. If, on the other hand, she had thanked Cullen sincerely, it would have been limiting. Using humor to get out of the embarrassment would have been equally counterproductive as well.

Luckily for her, Cullen was a socially awkward person who, when in trouble, acted as if he were at a junction. On the left side there were stutters and contrite expressions, while on the right side there was always a work-related diversion.

In that case, he took the right path at full speed, after clearing his throat. -Keep me informed on the situation, will you? Since I can’t make it to the Crossroads personally, it will be difficult to lend you immediate advice, but I'll assist as much as I can.-

Lavellan nodded, for then realizing that he couldn't see her. -Of course.- she said out loud. -I'll talk to the kid tomorrow, as soon as I have debriefed the corporal.-

Cullen made the same mistake. He gave a nod of agreement, then turned in her direction to confirm it verbally. -Fair enough.- he said, plainly.

They maintained an awkward silence for a long time until Lavellan's good heart got the best of her. -This is the part where I pretend to fall asleep, and tomorrow morning, when you ask me, I'll tell you that I don't remember anything about this conversation.- she suggested, struggling to hold back a smile.

Cullen exhaled a sigh of relief. -Thank the Maker.- he murmured.

*

It was a freezing afternoon in the southern area of the Hinterlands.

The terraces of Winterwatch Tower were covered in a shiny coating of ice, and the wind blew noisily through cracks in the fort's walls, rattling the windows glass.

Lavellan motioned the Greystone boy to sit by her side, close to the railing of a terrace overlooking the courtyard since it was the only place touched by the sun in a symphony of chills and drafts. She handed him a cup of hot tea before starting the conversation.

-Sorry for the long wait.- she began, adjusting the scarf the boy was wearing around his neck. She noticed that, since she last saw him, he had regained color in his cheeks and a spark of vitality in his gaze. -How are you doing?- she asked him.

The boy shrugged. -Better here than the Crossroads. At least now Violet has her own bed.- he replied. -Did you find my grandparents?-

-Your grandmother.- Lavellan specified, then glanced at Cassandra, who was watching the two attentively while standing on the terrace's doorway with her arm crossed on her chest. -And your father's family: clan Oranavra.-

The boy opened wide a curious look. -My father has a family?-

-Didn't he share some of his elven heritage with you?-

-No, I don't... I barely know how to say hello and goodbye.-

Lavellan nodded slowly. -I suspected as much.- she admitted. -Anyway, I have two solutions for you, but both could be risky.-

-What do you mean?-

-I won't lie to you. Your grandmother is not exactly in a position to be affectionate to you and your sister, since you are elf-blooded. Plus, clan Oranavra exercises an isolationist policy towards Humans.- Lavellan explained, as direct as a punch in the stomach. As a matter of fact, Cassandra responded to those words by giving her a look of vivid disapproval.

The boy, thankfully, didn't mind. -Do you think we could stay here a while longer before deciding? Ser Trevor is teaching me how to use the sling. He says I have what it takes, but I don't really get what he means.-

Lavellan raised a brow. -Ser Trevor?- she repeated, turning her head to Cassandra. -Ser Trevor "The Banner" of Amaranthine? The one with the stutter who helped us clear the southern entrance from bandits?-

Cassandra nodded decisively.

-The one who lost his daughter during the riots and is in urgent need of a squire?- Lavellan reinforced, putting emphasis on her tone.

Again, Cassandra nodded without grasping the request she was being given.

Lavellan rolled her eyes. -The one who evidently owes me a favor for saving his life?- she insisted, pointing her companion to the courtyard.

Cassandra nodded again for then realizing what was happening all of a sudden, consequently she hurried to summon Ser Trevor.

Lavellan exhaled a sigh of relief. -Good riddance!- she commented, then turned her attention back to the boy. -What do you think? Do you like this guy?-

The boy's eyes widened, then he opened a big smile on his face. -Are you serious? Do you think he would take us with him?-

Lavellan ran a hand over his head, messing up his hair. -Learn to use the sling well, I'll take care of the rest.- she declared, smiling back amusedly.

*

Three days had passed since the outing that deprived the Inquisition's leadership of two of its five members - and allowed soldiers to take a well deserved break from their commander's nagging criticism.

That evening, Haven was plunged inside a thick mist, which brought along a piercing chill that even the campfires that dotted the training grounds couldn’t dampen. Captain Rylen was really struggling to warm himself, despite facing one of the campfire's living flames in an attempt to melt the trails of ice that streaked his heavy cloak.

Beside him Cullen, who was writing a note underneath an official report, cast a quick glance at him. -If you keep this up, you're going to get a tan.- he commented, then handed the document to a messenger standing nearby.

Rylen belittled that remark by stretching his hands purposefully closer to the fire. -Couldn't Lady Pentaghast have chosen a tropical island as our base instead of this dreich hole?- he complained.

-It's not her fault the Breach opened up right here.-

Rylen raised an eyebrow over a skeptical expression. -I hope to have a say in the matter next time a Conclave is convoked. What do you think about Rialto Bay?-

Cullen gave him a half smile. -I met a Templar from Seleny once. He said that summers in Antiva City are hotter than the bottom of a furnace and you can cut the fog with a knife during winter.-

-You mean we had it good?!- groaned Rylen, then exhaled a sigh imbued with disappointment. -Ser Cullen, next time you hear me abuse Starkhaven, throw a bucket of water on my head.-

His interlocutor chuckled. -You'd end up complaining about that too.- he poked him.

They both shifted their gaze towards the road that flanked the training grounds, where the blurry silhouette of a man riding a black Anderfel Courser had just appeared.

He consisted of a dark, cloaked figure, which the evening colors and fog contributed to make it look ethereal and eerie. He was heading right for the pair, who ceased their chatter immediately to watch him warily.

The newcomer stopped his horse a couple of meters distant, looking at them briefly with a pair of large, glowing eyes, then he dismounted gracefully and walked over to introduce himself.

-The commander, I presume.- he said, in a grave voice.

As it was lit by the campfire, the figure took on the appearance of an elf wearing gray robes, in accordance with nevarran fashion. As he removed his hood, he revealed a pale, youthful face, marked by the same Vallaslin of Lavellan, only in a less complex form. His hair was as red as the flames burning in the campfire, creating a stark contrast to the grayness of the fog and what he was wearing.

-You're correct.- Cullen replied, running a quick glance over him before extending his hand out in greeting.

The elf observed that gesture with a hint of surprise before reciprocating. Unlike Cullen, his grip lacked vigor, but it was just as firm. -My name is Shaan, I'm here to deliver a message from Ankh of clan Lavellan.- he announced. -I have been asked to specify that she's the Herald of Andraste, although herself and the Arlathvhen do not endorse this title.-

-Arlathvhen?- Rylen repeated, puzzled.

Shaan raised his eyebrows. -Excellent pronunciation, serah.- he complimented, bowing his head as a sign of respect. -It's a term that is used both as a name for the council of leaders of our people and as an identifier for its participants.- he explained, retrieving an envelope from the flaps of his cloak in order to hand it over to Cullen. -You must be Captain Rylen.-

-Aye, in the flesh.- said Rylen, extending his hand as well.

Shaan shook it. -A real pleasure. Few individuals are esteemed by Ankh, especially among humans.- he said, passing a thorough look over Cullen. -You’re both on that list.-

The latter, after slipping the letter from its envelope, curved the corners of his mouth into a smile. -The feeling is mutual.- he said, beginning to read.

Shaan explored his face carefully, frowning as he took on a thoughtful expression. -I see.- he said, thus proceeding to scan him from head to toe.

The maneuver didn’t go unnoticed by Rylen, who cast a curious glance over the both of them before clearing his throat. -So, what does Your Worship say?-

Cullen, visibly satisfied, moved to his second in command side, showing him the letter's content.

-The kids will be staying at Winterwatch Tower until the end of the week.- Shaan articulated. -A traveling knight has offered the boy a position and he’ll take them along to his Denerim estate.- he paused. -Apparently, Ankh's persuasive abilities have claimed another victim.-

Rylen finished the read for then handing the missive back to his commanding officer. -So, she befriended the Banner of Amaranthine.- he summarized, pleasantly impressed. -The gruffest man on the northern coast.-

-She knows her way around things.- replied Shaan, confidently. -After all, she convinced Lady Pentaghast to work with her. A gruff knight is a small thing by comparison.- he spoke the last sentence with a certain emphasis, glancing swiftly over Cullen, who was too distracted rereading the letter to realize what was happening.

As the good right hand he was, Rylen managed to register that action.

-Did she do things as she pleased even before she joined us?- Cullen inquired, after a while.

-If your people were in danger, what would you do?- said Shaan.

His interlocutor hinted at a smile. -I would accept a job in the farthest corner of the Frostback Mountains at the service of a radical organization with impulsive leadership.- he replied. -Borrow me a couple of minutes, sir, I'd like to write down a reply.- he added, bringing himself behind Rylen's back to use it as a smooth surface. His second in command, who was used to it, handed him a nib. -Don't be too formal eh?- he suggested, retrieving from his pocket a small box of solid ink, already wet.

Cullen brushed him off with a descriptive glance. -As if this wasn't the seventieth time I've written a message tonight.- he muttered.

Rylen turned a tugged smile on Shaan, who shrugged in response. -I've seen worse. My previous employer used my grandfather's back as a stool.- the latter admitted.

-Don't give him funny ideas, ya weapon.- mumbled Rylen, not amused.

-Get a pillow for your knees, just in case.-

-In that case, I feel that my knees would be the least of my problems. He's a skinny fake.-

Shaan smiled. -I noticed.- he admitted nonchalantly, turning back to his horse to get its attention.

Rylen narrowed his eyelids on a suspicious look, as he retrieved the nib from his commander's hands to put it back inside his pockets, along with the ink.

-Stop painting me like a tyrant, captain.- Cullen complained, enveloping the letter to hand it over to the messenger. -Will we see you around again?- he asked, once Shaan had grabbed the item.

-I'd be back if I deemed it necessary.- his interlocutor replied, mounting his horse. -In the meantime, goodbye.-

Cullen replied with a brief smile, Rylen just waved at him.

Shaan adjusted the hood over his head, then spurred the courser, embarking on the trail at a gallop. When his figure was engulfed in fog, Rylen inevitably found himself commenting on the situation. -Everything went well eh? Creepy elf aside.-

Cullen stretched his arms towards the fire, rubbing hands vigorously to ward off the cold. -I guess so.- he said, unable to stop smiling.

Rylen looked at him with suspicion. -You know, ever since I met you the only times I've really seen you having good craic have been never, ever.- he affirmed. -And yet, ever since you came back, you've had that dafty grin plastered on your snout.- he pointed at him. -Like a wee mabari. You just lack a dangling tongue and the loud wheezing.-

Cullen glared at him. -Remember that I'm the one who decides the shifts, Ser Rylen.-

Rylen raised his hands in surrender, directing a complacent smirk at the naked flames. -I'm just confused, commander. From what you said earlier, I assumed your trip was the meeting point between a waste of time and a kick in the nuts.-

-I never used those words!- Cullen scolded him, with a note of irritation in his voice. -I said it was exhausting, that's all.-

-Then why do you look anything but exhausted?-

-I don't know if I want to hear where you're going with this.-

Rylen addressed an expression filled with resignation to an imaginary counterpart, then he exhaled a soft sigh. -That was a mere thought.-

-Candid like yellow snow.-

They stood quietly for long, trying to muster up enough heat before returning to work. Throughout that much needed break, Rylen refused to make eye contact with his superior, on whose face occasionally appeared the shadow of a pleased expression. After intercepting yet another moony smile, however, Rylen’s curiosity got the best of him. -I always wondered what color the Herald's eyes were. We haven't had many opportunities to talk.-

Cullen gave him a questioning look. -Her eyes?-

-Those bulbous things on top of the face that people use for vision.- Rylen replied, in a playful manner. -Weird eh? That's usually the first thing you notice when you meet someone.-

Cullen pondered about it long enough, then bowed his head just a bit, looking focused. -It depends, really. During the day they do look green, but it's not a watered-down green, like Burrows'.-

-Burrows has green eyes? That looks like a yellow to me.-

-Exactly. Hers, on the other hand, are very saturated, like a bundle of wet blades of grass during spring. They have a kind of…- he gave a circular motion with his index finger, so to help himself to build up a thought. -...luminosity. It's a saturated green, but streaked with lighter veins toward the inside, like a jade.-

-A jade.- Rylen repeated, with a mild hint of sarcasm.

-Yes, it's a hard stone. When the evening comes, though, they appear as black as onyx. Only a thin outline remains of the green, which is quite noticeable, though, since she’s got blond eyela...- Cullen refrained from continuing, to give his second in command a truant stare. -Do you think I'm stupid?-

Rylen glanced at him eloquently. -You like her more than I like thermal baths.- he stated.

Cullen looked around suspiciously, motioning him to moderate his voice. -Andraste’s grace, keep it down! The last thing we need is soldiers gossiping about something like this!-

-I’m afraid it's too late for that.- Rylen minimized it, yet still doing what he was asked. -You’re planning to woo her?-

Cullen replied by slapping him on the arm. -Go back to work and get ready for the mission! Those nobles won't escort to the crater themselves.-

Rylen massaged his injured limb, huffing loudly. -Okay, touchy!- he said, finally heading to the officers' tent. -You didn’t contradict me, though.- he added, while pointing his finger.

Cullen watched him walk away with an amused look, then took a deep breath and returned to his duties, letting that conversation die down along with the campfire.

Chapter 5: Climbing

Chapter Text

The sky that embraced Haven looked like the background of a fine antivan watercolor.

It was painted with an ethereal white that gradually enriched itself with a delicate pastel blue hue as the eye wandered upwards. The clouds placidly walking by, buoyed by the wind, appeared like lace embroidered in the air by a skilful hand, emphasizing the already imposing nature of the Breach that crowned the Frostback Mountains.

Such elegance was in sharp contrast to the ugliness characterizing the view on the ground.

The roads around Inquisition’s stronghold were soaked in icy mud and brutally scarred by the footprints of carts, war refugees, and pilgrims on their way to seek the blessings of the Herald of Andraste.

The latter, who felt like she was anything but a spokesperson for a deity she didn’t believe in in the slightest, was following an outside route, parallel to the wooden fortifications that the newly established Inquisition had brought around the chantry and village of Haven.

Although everyone applauded the Herald after she had settled the Breach, it only took a few weeks of separation for the inhabitants of the Inquisition's temporary stronghold to forget what their heroine looked like. Among other things, during her walk she was scolded by a maid for not having cleaned the public latrines in time for the end of the Chant. In addition, a passing nobleman had entrusted her with his luggage, forcing her to follow him so that she could arrange it in his quarters. Finally, a courier of Ambassador Montilyet had slammed a bundle of letters into her hands, to deliver to her own self, mistaking her for the elven maid who cleaned her quarters while she was away.

Lavellan forgave him the mistake, as the resemblance between the two women was obvious. The maid was in fact a pale and serious 16-year-old brunette from an orlesian enclave that couldn’t distinguish an arrowhead from a pebble. Twins, indeed.

More entertained than anything else, Lavellan walked over to one of the perished, snow-eaten piers that surrounded Haven's frozen lake, to sit and read the mail. It consisted of a list of duties, an agenda to be followed at the council meeting scheduled earlier that afternoon, and a series of issues on which none of her illustrious associates had yet been able to reach a common ground.

It wasn't the first time Lavellan found herself mediating in a room full of loud people, and the idea of taking responsibility for the consequences of a wrong decision didn't trouble her.

Before she joined the Inquisition, in fact, her clan relied on her when it came to choosing the best course of action, to get everyone to safety in case of danger. The difference between decision-making in her clan and doing it in the Inquisition lay in the pool of expertise of those around her. Her colleagues had four different approaches to a single situation, stemming from their professional and cultural backgrounds, moreover they were accustomed to solving problems related to the fickle nature of human politics. Lavellan didn't know much about the latter, given her history, but she considered herself to be a rational woman with sound morals who had no problem compromising when her circle disagreed. A thing that was vital when facing four strong personalities like those of her colleagues, who seemed to be regressing to adolescence, displaying a tragicomic indisposition when it came to ceding ground to the other participants at the war table.

Praying to Ghilan'nain to grant her enough patience to deal with them, Lavellan finished reading her letters, stuffed them into the bag she kept under her cloak, and got up to head inside the walls, intending to gather her equipment before her departure for the Fallow Mire the next day.

She couldn't make it to the entrance of the pier, because the same courier who had handed her the letters started shouting in her direction, pointing her out to a group of three soldiers around him. In response, Lavellan arched an eyebrow, turning back to the lake in confusion, believing the guy was interacting with someone behind her.

-She tricked me into giving away the Herald's private correspondence!- exclaimed the courier, pointing his finger relentlessly.

Lavellan immediately put her hands forward, as the four advanced in her direction at a rapid pace. -There's clearly a misunderstanding.- she said, retrieving the letters to show them. As she did so, she exposed her flank, involuntarily showing the hunting knife she kept fastened to her belt as well.

-A spy!- the courier cried, noticing the weapon, and also interrupting her from providing explanations.

The soldier closest to Lavellan tried to grab her arm but she instinctively recoiled. She tried to articulate a sentence but the second soldier had already drawn his sword from its sheath, moving threateningly in her direction.

-Would you let me speak?- she groaned, while dodging in a million ways any attempt to catch her. -These are mine! I'm Lavellan! The Herald!-

-If you're the Herald, I'm the queen of Orlais.- one of her attackers replied, hugging the space where Lavellan stood a moment ago.

-If I had known earlier, I would have bowed.- she muttered, before turning sharply to rush towards the lake. She leapt off the end of the pier, praying the ice was thick enough to support her. It was a risky move, barely calculated, but it worked.

Lavellan took advantage of the momentum to slide across the ice as far as the slippery surface would allow, then tried to balance herself to reach a point on the shore as close to the training ground as possible. It was imperative that she disposed of her left glove in order to show the Anchor and clear up the misunderstanding, but in case it wasn't enough, she was certain that Cassandra would come to her aid.

Just as she reached the shore, she spotted out of the corner of her eye that the soldiers had called for reinforcements. There were now six of them chasing her.

A rush of worry formed in Lavellan's stomach as she tried to unfasten the buckles of her glove, while moving swiftly towards the row of dummies Cassandra used for training. Upon not seeing her, concern turned into fear.

She snatched the glove off and threw it to the ground, then stopped abruptly to allow her pursuers to see the Anchor. -I'm Lavellan!- she repeated, resolutely.

-Watch out, she's a Mage!- one of the soldiers shouted, indicating to the others to surround her.

Lavellan groaned with impatience, waving her hand in their direction as she tried to explain herself.

-What's going on here?-

Hearing Lysette's Orlesian accent was a relief for Lavellan, as they knew each other well.

-Be careful, Lys! It's a spy!- exclaimed the courier to warn the newcomer, who had just caught up with the group of soldiers, placing herself between them and the fugitive.

Her eyes wide open, Lysette looked at him in bewilderment. -No, you imbecile!- she snapped. -You’re harassing the Herald of Andraste!-

-She's not the Herald of Andraste!- one of the soldiers intervened, throwing a hand forward. -The Herald of Andraste is... - he paused, to take a good look at Lavellan, who was still holding the Anchor in plain sight, pointing at it with small nods.

A visceral terror gripped the faces of her attackers, as they realized they just made a mistake that would cost them an exemplary punishment.

-Are you all right, Your Worship?- Lysette asked, softening her tone.

Lavellan made an effort to relax her posture. She took a deep breath, then tightened her lips, formulating a half-smile. -My feet are a little cold.- she replied.

Despite the discouragement stemming from her inability to identify her person, even through the luminescent gash running down her left hand, Lavellan reassured the courier and the soldiers that she didn't intend to punish them, or even point out their mistake within the council. She then thanked Lysette, promising to buy her a drink as soon as she had the time to stop by the inn, waving her goodbye as she finally walked through the training ground with the urge of looking for Cassandra.

She needed to ease the tension, and if there was one thing she appreciated about her colleague and teammate it was her ability to convey her sense of resolve to everyone around her, even during those times in which she felt insecure.

She searched for a long time, thoroughly, without stopping to ask the soldiers for directions - a thing she would have done on a normal occasion. The space around her seemed to be populated by manifestations of Fen'Harel in human disguise, and although she was certain that everything would return to its place once calmed down, she was feeling anything but safe in the moment.

After far too much time and far too many lapses around camp, Lavellan crouched down in the space between two tents, to catch her breath and rethink her strategy.

She entertained herself by watching two guardsmen arguing animatedly in front of Cullen's tent, then, all of a sudden, her instincts made her stop hiding and move towards it.

She took advantage of the fact that both guards were distracted by the discussion, and slipped inside, undetected.

It was a humble but spacious room, divided in two parts by a crimson drape with the emblem of the Inquisition stitched on. Lavellan had only entered it once, many weeks before, just long enough to report something to one of the commander's subordinates.

She remembered very well the desk devoured by paperwork, then the smell of wet sharpening stone and molten wax that lingered in the atmosphere.

The floor was lined with wooden beams and immaculately clean, just like every surface, even those topped by the weight of literature and bureaucracy. Lavellan suspected that such cleanliness wasn’t due to the work of the servants alone, but she refrained from elucubrating too much and announced her presence.

-Commander?- she called, reaching his desk.

-Put it all down on the desk.- Cullen's firm voice answered her from the other end of the drape.

Officially unfamiliar, even to one of her esteemed colleagues, Lavellan cast a look stained with disappointment on the paperwork. -I have nothing to put down.- she declared, placing both hands on her hips.

After a moment of silence, in which Lavellan distinctively heard the dragging of a long sigh, Cullen cleared his throat. -Are they still discussing orlesian cheese out there?- he asked, with a hint of annoyance.

Lavellan shrugged. -Honestly, one must agree with them. Orlesian cheese smells rotten and tastes like melted butter.- she commented. -Have I already told you about the wheel of seasoned cheese we found in the center of a summoning circle in Redcliffe?-

A choked whimper.

-There was this rift just above, and a Wrath demon circling around it. Varric did...- Lavellan paused abruptly, in response to a loud clatter and a curse. -Is everything alright back there?- she asked, walking around the desk with a worried expression.

-Everything alright, lady Lavellan!- Cullen hastened to reply, displaying a tone of voice far too confident for someone who really is.

Lavellan frowned and silently spelled out 'lady' with her mouth, as she was describing the drape with a doubtful glance.

She decided to approach her interlocutor with a mixture of curiosity and concern, because the noises coming from behind made her suspicious. She looked out beyond the drape, leaning in to check the situation, and what she saw made her retract her head in surprise.

Cullen was bent over a bowl of water with a good portion of his lower face soaped up; his cheeks were tinged with embarrassment. A stream of blood leaked from a cut under his right cheekbone and down his neck, so much that it stained his shirt.

-Falon'Din Lethanavir, what's going on?- Lavellan cried, reaching him to snatch out of his hands what looked like a knife. Cullen allowed her to do so, probably too busy thinking about the ways he wished he could disappear out of shame to realize what was happening. -You caught me off guard and my hand slipped.- he justified himself, retrieving a cloth towel to rub it over his face.

Lavellan looked at him, dumbfounded, raising the weapon between them. -What on June were you doing with a knife so close to your face? It's not the smartest way to check if you have greens on your teeth, since you have a mirror right there.- and she pointed at a shiny copper plate placed just above the bowl.

-It's not a knife, it's a razor.- Cullen pointed out, dabbing at his cheekbone while he gazed at his distorted reflection in the mirror with his eyes narrowed to a slit. -I know you think I'm stupid, but I'm not that stupid.- he muttered, reducing his tone of voice.

Lavellan nipped a retort in the bud and took a closer look at the booty. -Ooh!- she exhaled, after a few moments of recollection. -The beard...- she added, placing the object carefully on the rim of the bowl. She then gave a cough to clear her throat. -Sorry.-

Cullen huffed out a laugh. -Don't worry, it would have happened anyway. I forgot to sharpen it.-

Lavellan made an effort to smile back, taking a step in his direction to rectify the mistake. She retrieved the towel from his hands, soaked a flap of it in the bowl, and rubbed it on the wound gently to clean it. Finally, she dabbed the injured area with the dry part of the towel to allow the skin to heal properly.

She met Cullen's surprised gaze just as she withdrew the cloth to fold it, and realized only then that his embarrassment was not due to a cut caused by clumsiness.

For the second time in a short period of time, she caught him out of his professional shell. He was wearing a shirt as humble as his surroundings, comfortable wool trousers, and was barefoot. His hair, always tidy, was a thick tangle of disheveled curls that framed his face like a bundle of freshly mown wheat. Lavellan was watching the person behind the commander again and, for a moment, she wondered if he could ever forgive her.

-Here.- she declared, folding the towel with a firm gesture. She hastened to hand it to Cullen, a little too abruptly. -I'll wait for you in the other...- she began to say, moving backwards to reach the desk. She pointed at the drape with her thumb. -...room? Part?-

Cullen nodded quickly, seeming in distress, then resumed his preparations without answering.

For Lavellan it was a short but interminable period of waiting, in which she never stopped wondering why she had given up tracking down Cassandra to rely on another authoritative figure, adding further anxiety to an already nerve-wracking situation.

She witnessed the comings and goings of scouts and couriers who were regularly announced, contributing to the bureaucratic nightmare before disappearing by adding envelopes and more paperwork on the desk. More frequently than she would have liked, she was met with a puzzled look, which immediately disappeared when she showed her left hand for identification.

-A bow or a formal greeting would be in order.- was Cullen's rebuke to a courier during one of those exchanges.

-It’s fine.- Lavellan replied softly, after the guest had made a way too eloquent curtsy with every intention of leaving as quickly as possible to avoid further reprimand. -But I wouldn't mind if they stopped handing me their dirty clothes. The lake is frozen and I still haven't figured out where the laundry room is.- she added, passing a quick glance on her interlocutor.

Cullen was back to his old haughty, dignified self, groomed from head to toe. There was no trace of the slightest awkwardness in his face as he took his place at the desk and signaled Lavellan to do the same.

She hesitated, then complied, retrieving a stool to place it beside the host's chair. She sat down and propped an elbow on the edge of the desk, risking a landslide of scrolls.

Cullen pointed at the wall of literature and exhaled a weary sigh. -The urgent correspondence.- he explained, sarcastically. -Most of it comes from some high mother who has been told I belonged to the Order.- he continued, retrieving an envelope bearing a noble seal. -For the most part, they’re outraged letters, but most senders always try to involve me in some idiotic scheme to debunk Seeker Pentaghast and Sister Leliana and give up my position for a role as Knight-Commander somewhere in Orlais.- he opened the envelope, then handed it to Lavellan. -I usually have them read aloud to my second-in-command, to share a laugh before calling it a day.-

-"Commander Clemence Robesport"?- Lavellan recited, amused.

-They put so much effort into prioritizing the missive, that they forget to check the rest.-

-They really think you’re the most reasonable member of the group. It's hilarious.-

Cullen tilted his head just slightly. -I'm less reasonable than Cassandra to you?-

Lavellan gave him a half smile. -You both have the flexibility of a ram.-

Cullen looked amused. -You came all this way to flatter me, or do you have something important to report before the meeting?-

Lavellan's brain raced a kilometer-long obstacle course, scrambling and somersaulting like a hen hunted by a herd of weasels at the edge of a cliff. -I was just passing by.- was the first thing that came to her mind, but it was a half-hearted response, about as believable as the presence of a wheel of seasoned cheese in the middle of a summoning circle.

-And what’s the real reason?- Cullen urged her, as he resumed sorting through the letters on his desk. -I may have the flexibility of a ram, but this is a blatant lie.- he explained, with a note of smugness in his voice.

Lavellan went back to thinking, enclosing the palm of her left hand between her fingers at regular intervals to help her brain gear up. -It's safe here.- she admitted, softly.

Cullen immediately stopped what he was doing, wearing a severe look on his face. -It should be anywhere in Haven, especially for you. Is there a security issue?-

Lavellan frowned. -On the contrary. The guards are far too zealous.- she said, then exhaled a long, weary sigh. -How did you realize it was me earlier? It was the cheese thing, wasn't it?-

-Your voice was different before you started joking.-

Lavellan narrowed her eyes above a puzzled smirk, in front of which Cullen felt forced to articulate what he meant. -It was weak and resigned. Two adjectives totally inconsistent with your character.- he said. -That confirms that something serious has happened and you're afraid to share it with me.- he leaned towards her. -Or, you are worried that, by reporting what happened to me, the wrongdoer would suffer heavy consequences.-

Lavellan gave him an eloquent look. -It's all settled, really. I don't believe in punishments, unless the person at fault is a demon to be sent back to the Fade.- she said. -It would hurt them more than it would hurt me.-

-Except that you are already hurt and that’s unacceptable.-

Lavellan huffed. -I don't need someone to protect my honor, I need a friend.- she admitted, nervously.

Cullen raised his eyebrows in surprise.

-I know myself that this is childish behaviour.- she added, interrupting his reply at birth. She then resumed sorting the correspondence from where Cullen had left off, to give her hands something to do while she was dealing with a delicate matter. -But you’re... let's say you're the person who reassures me the most here, after Cassandra.- she stated, avoiding his gaze. -Even if you insist on calling me by titles.- she added, to downplay.

Cullen studied her attentively, stroking his chin with his index finger. After a while he chuckled, shaking his head. -You like to surround yourself with rams, in short.-

Lavellan smiled instinctively. -I used the wrong comparison, I'm afraid. For a group as chaotic as ours, it's reassuring to be able to count on someone who seems to be in full control of the situation.-

-I thought you were that someone.-

-Then I'm sorry to report that you're in big trouble, Commander.-

They exchanged a humoured glance, then joined forces to face the bureaucracy demon. When confronted with that, every problem always diminished and embarrassment faded into a much more comforting boredom.

*

-It's doing much better.-

Solas raised his gaze to Lavellan, then returned to consulting the Anchor, a faint smile on his lips. -I can see it.- he confirmed, running his thumb gently along the tear.

It was late afternoon in Haven. A gentle mountain breeze caressed the surface of the frozen lake, raising sparks of cold dust as it passed. The chatter of soldiers in full training echoed throughout the valley, overpowering the placidity of an otherwise very quiet day.

Solas and Lavellan stood at the top of a rocky outcrop, decorated by a group of young fir trees overlooking the western area of the training ground. They were far enough away from the chaos coming from the soldiers, but most importantly, they were positioned so that they could always keep an eye on them. As a matter of fact, Lavellan wouldn’t stop patrolling the camp with worried glances, twitching her fingers from time to time whenever she saw someone getting too close to the path uphill.

-I'm almost done.- Solas reassured her, calmly, after yet another tremor.

Lavellan returned to focusing on the moment, going along with her companion's gestures to allow him a correct analysis of the Anchor.

When Solas had finished, he took Lavellan's left hand in his own, closing it gently into a fist. -Falon'Din.- he said, once he released her from his grip.

As she took her hand back, Lavellan arched an eyebrow, noticing a spark of curiosity on her companion's face, characterized by an enigmatic smile.

-It's not a common Vallaslin, especially in its complex form.- Solas told her, gathering hands behind his back as he bent slightly in her direction. -Does that mean you have an affinity with death, or command?-

-Yes.- she answered, returning the smile.

Solas laughed. -A proper answer for a very obvious question.- he said, then sat down on a rock covered in dry moss, on which he had previously placed his staff.

Lavellan sat beside him to absorb his body heat, as she was accustomed to do in her clan, in cases when the temperature was particularly unmanageable. -My Keeper says our people were once immortal. Is that correct?- she asked him, unfastening her cloak, to pass one flap over her companion's shoulders.

Solas welcomed that kind gesture, bending down just enough to allow her to cover him properly. -Yes, that's correct.-

Lavellan frowned. -Honestly, I'm having a hard time liking it. Immortality, as she described it, gives me the idea of something static, whereas every living being is in a state of perpetual evolution. For example, at this very moment I'm a different person from the one you questioned a few moments ago.-

-How?-

-I'm sitting.- she replied, grinning.

Solas smiled as well, in a more composed manner. -Immortality is anything but static.- he stated. -Spirits can live forever, yet in spite of their specific identity they lead their interlocutors to approach a problem from an ever-changing perspective. The same applies to us. By interacting with them, we give a practical form to the idea that identifies them, giving them the opportunity to explore it further.-

Lavellan nodded, impressed. -I had never thought about it, but now that you mention it, it seems a fairly obvious concept. A spirit of Wisdom could deliver multiple answers to the same moral dilemma, as there are cultural and emotional conditions that force a different context upon the identity of the individual asking the question.-

-You still think immortality is static?-

Lavellan pondered. -No, but life without the necessity of death is. If we stayed, what would we give to nature in return?- she asked. -I think about it all the time. The living prepare themselves a lifetime for death, so concerned to get there as intact as possible that they always forget that they are existing in a context where death is not the sum of all the things that have happened to them in life, but a necessity of nature to find new resources to function successfully.- she tugged a lock of hair behind her ear. -We are nothing, and yet we are part of an incredibly fascinating system, in constant development.- she smiled, genuinely excited to be able to express that concept aloud in the presence of someone as curious about how things work as she was. -If there were no death, ours and the one of the organisms that make up the elements, everything would remain stationary and immutable.-

Solas twitched his eyelids slightly. -You're telling me that death is nothing more than a change of state, then.-

-Of course it is! Every culture strives to make it poetic in order to make sense of the pain of loss, but reality is much more selfless than any theory.-

-Is that why you agreed to move away from your clan? Out of fear of staticity?- Solas asked, exploring her face with a curious look.

-Isn't that the same reason you always fall asleep in different places?-

-Did anyone ever tell you that answering a question with another question is the most boring way to avoid responding?-

Lavellan gave him a playful nudge, then shifted her gaze to the east, laying it on the Breach. -I thought us Dalish were stagnant creatures, but Humans are no joke either. They're constantly on the move, yet they hate change, have you noticed?-

Solas took a few seconds to shake off his pride and accept that his interlocutor would continue to deflect rather than giving him a honest answer to an overly personal question. -A peculiarity they share with every race of Thedas, unfortunately.- he replied.

-But we remember our mistakes, on the contrary they still cling to theirs as if they were trophies to be displayed.- Lavellan said, letting the smile gradually leave her face. -Yesterday, Cassandra asked me if there was room in my pantheon for one more deity, without realizing that it's because of this very demand that my people no longer have a home to return to.-

Solas placed a hand on her back. -To them, the idea that their Maker could not exist is inconceivable.-

-Do you know what’s even more inconceivable? The idea of coexisting with other cultural groups.- she blurted out, turning to look at him again. -I accepted it, but no one is willing to match my effort.-

-Because it's a battle without a winner, Ankh.- Solas replied quietly. -If it's of any consolation, I think an open mind like yours was the best thing that could have happened to the Inquisition.- he added, offering her a gentle smile.

Lavellan reciprocated, unconvinced. -Or the worst, by all accounts. A wood sprite dictating rules? What could happen next, that a horse is given a seat at the Council of Heralds?-

-From the way things are going in Orlais now, I don't think it'd be such an unrealistic idea.- he replied, making her laugh. -Be patient. You'll find a common ground, one way or another.-

-Do you think they’d let me do that?-

Solas stood up, inviting Lavellan to do the same by extending a hand. -Would my causticity prevent you from trying?- he asked her, as she rose by his side.

-I don't think so.- Lavellan replied, tossing a flap of her cloak over her shoulder while waiting for Solas to retrieve his equipment, before they tackled the descent.

She walked along him, keeping a minimum distance. -Thanks for trusting me.- she said, as they followed the snowy path that led to a slope.

Solas hugged her back with one arm, resting his fingers on the elbow opposite the one that was touching his stomach, lingering on physical contact while avoiding a direct embrace. -For someone so expansive, you have a lot of restraints towards those around you.- he commented.

Lavellan shifted a wary gaze to the training ground, now in their immediate vicinity. -Can you blame me for being cautious?-

Solas paused to explore her features with eyes stained with curiosity. -No, but it is a contrast I find fascinating.- he admitted.

Lavellan snorted a nervous laugh. -There's a saying among free-marchers: the pot calling the kettle black.- she glanced at him eloquently. -It seems to me that you're not putting too much effort into making new friends either.-

Solas ran a hand over her back, before distancing himself again. -Because they aren’t interested in befriending me.- he replied, clutching the staff with both hands. -You, on the other hand, seem to be very open about it.- he added, visibly amused.

-Are you surprised that I'm seeking your friendship?-

-You would be the first Dalish to do so actively.-

-Because much of the information you posses conflicts with the word of our Keepers, Solas.-

-That doesn't seem to be a big deal to you.-

-Should it be? As I told you, I’m not interested in stillness. The tales they tell us are stagnant, dead, and never take into account our role within the present. You confirmed to me that our people were once capable of an evolution they are afraid of pursuing today.- Lavellan dodged an officer, who was about to run her over. -Your knowledge gives me hope.-

-So yours is just an intellectual interest?- Solas asked, dodging a crossbow bolt that had escaped a clumsy soldier.

Lavellan hurried away from the firing area, motioning for Solas to follow her out of danger. -Of course not! You and Varric are the only people I know equipped with irony.- she explained. -The idea of facing all of this at your side makes me feel good.-

Solas raised his eyebrows in surprise. -Oh.- he exclaimed, shifting his gaze elsewhere. -You're the first person who notices it, after so long.- he admitted, proceeding by her side as they passed through the row of tents that anticipated the gates.

Lavellan clutched in her cloak, giving a nod to Lysette, who was greeting her composedly from the entrance of her tent. -Do you think you could help me clean up my elvhen a little bit, during our talks?- she asked Solas, changing the subject abruptly.

He offered her a big smile, then nodded. -It would be a pleasure.- he answered, in elvhen.

-It would be a pleasure.- she echoed him, trying to imitate his pronunciation. -Ma serannas.-

-Serànnas.- he corrected her, politely. -You can come visit me even outside the check ups, if you like. If you don't mind, I could do the same.-

It took Lavellan several seconds to translate in her head what he was saying. Once she had threaded the words she knew into a coherent sentence, she cracked a big smile. -It would be a pleasure!- she replied. After that, she waved to him goodbye, headed for the forge, where Blackwall was waiting for her to try out the new equipment. -Dareth shiral!-

Solas returned the greeting with a composed smile. -Dareth shiral.- he murmured, looking at her wistfully, before returning to his studies.

Lavellan mentally thanked him for the conversation they had just had, because it finally helped her to calm the nerves that lately were tenser than her bow-string.

She quickly reviewed the tasks she had scheduled for the day, quickening her pace a little because she was impatient to consult her new teammate, just as she had done with Solas.

In the rush, she passed by a small group of new recruits from the Free Marches, and stepped accidentally on the cloak of one of them.

-Oi!-

Lavellan turned her head instantly, finding herself facing a very tall woman. She was wrapped up in heavy armor, with the emblem of a noble house on her pauldrons. After realising her mistake, Lavellan immediately put on a desolate expression. -Sorry, I didn't notice.- she justified herself, nodding at the footprint. -It's just snow, don't worry. I'll help you brush it off as soon as I'm free.-

The woman looked at Lavellan from head to toe, astonished. -That’s brocade, it can’t be washed.- she scoffed. -And that's not the point, you idiot!-

-Leave her alone, mylady.- one of the recruits around the woman intervened. -Don't you see that stuff on her face? Those have no regard for other people's property.-

-I can see that!- she exclaimed, taking a step towards Lavellan. -And they don't even know what respect is.- she scanned her interlocutor from head to toe. -Apologize.- she demanded.

Lavellan straightened her back, embittered by such arrogance. -I think I've already done that.- she protested.

-Not good enough. Address me with respect, don't you recognise my status?-

Lavellan was genuinely tempted to clap back, or to put her in place, but she knew it would have been to no purpose. She would have drawn attention to herself, causing a scene in front of everyone and placing both parties in trouble. To risk putting herself in an unpleasant situation again, with the prospect of having to turn to someone else to solve her problems deterred her permanently from speaking out.

So she took a deep breath, then gave her interlocutor only a brief nod. -Maybe another time.- she said, then spun around and walked away.

-Hey, get back here!- one of the recruits shouted, ready to follow her, but Lavellan had already decided it wasn't worth the effort. She simply fled from the situation, feeling something crack inside in the process.

She didn't realize that she stepped past Captain Rylen, ignoring his greeting because the humiliation she was feeling at that moment was so intense to deafen her.

Cullen's number two watched her walk away in confusion, then shifted his gaze to the path, where the recruits were complaining loudly about what had just happened.

He reached them warily, studying the woman specifically, as he seemed to recognize the emblem of her house.

-Captain!- she exclaimed, immediately upon noticing his presence. She stood up straight at attention, and so did the other recruits.

Rylen gave a hasty gesture with his arm, ordering them to stand at ease. -Is everything in order?- he asked.

The woman, who still maintained a martial pose, agreed with a nod. -We’re ready for duty.-

-Rabbits aside - commented one of the recruits, then spat on the ground.

Rylen immediately glared at them. -We're off to a bad, bad start.- he commented. -What happened?-

-Nothing serious, sir. A servant trampled on my cloak and forgot to apologize.- the woman hastened to explain. She pointed to the forge. -Back home, we punish people like her corporally.-

Rylen arched an eyebrow, hitting her with a piercing look. -Too bad this isn't home, and you have just offended the Herald of Andraste in front of one of her subordinates.-

There fell a silence at first incredulous, then saturated with terror. -I had no idea, sir.- hushed the woman.

-Then you'd better get your head off your arse and learn how to behave like a proper andrastian, instead of lashing out at anything that breathes.- Rylen scolded her, getting closer. -You're no longer in Hercinia, where they let you get away with anything because you're the offspring of someone who bears an important name. You're in the Inquisition now. This sort of conduct here is unacceptable, and I’m not talking about Your Worship only.- he paused, to let his words sink in. -I'm closing an eye on this one because we need someone to tidy up camp after practice, but you're on a shoogly peg, lass. Understood?-

The woman tightened her lips to block a pointed retort, turning her head away, then snapped back to attention. -Yes, sir.-

-And take off those rags already and put on a darn uniform!- he pointed towards the military camp, nervously. -So quick and ready, and then you sit here wasting your time on a speck!- he clapped his hands a single time. -Awa' an bile yer heid!-

The group hurried away, as if they had wings under their heels.

Rylen watched them go for a moment, contempt painted in his face, then pulled off his helmet to run a hand through his hair to dissipate the nervousness. Once calm, he ran his gaze towards the training grounds, reaching the silhouette of Cullen, who was issuing orders on the other end.

Rylen huffed. -Please be in a good mood for once.- he prayed, moving briskly in his direction.

*

The air was crisp, a sign that there was a very high probability of snow visiting Haven again during the night.

Lavellan waved his new companions goodbye, after that she left the inn and braved the icy streets of the village.

She tossed her cloak over the shoulder, then faced the flight of steps leading up to the apothecary's quarters. Before retiring for the night, she wanted to make sure that the shipment of blood lotus she had collected in the Hinterlands had reached its destination, as there was a serious shortage of it.

At the corner of her eye, she catched a glimpse of Cassandra and Cullen talking in front of the façade of a building, both engaged in a heated discussion. Her instinct, as someone unable to mind her own business, urged her to join them, setting aside her initial idea. -Who's in the wrong?- she asked, to tease them.

Cassandra hit her with a sharp look, Cullen on the other hand greeted her with a timid smile.

-The answer is "me".- Lavellan suggested, moving near the latter. -Or next time you argue, she might bring the sword.-

-I never leave without it.- Cassandra corrected her, playfully pinching her cloak at arm height.

Lavellan pretended to be hurt by massaging her side.

Cassandra looked at her skeptically. -Off to pull Sera's ears.- she announced, right before disappearing into the night.

Lavellan clicked her tongue, pretending annoyance. -And here I was, looking forward to a performance of war bleats and headbutts.-

Cullen glanced at her. -Sorry for being unentertaining.- he commented.

-What was the problem?-

Cullen seemed to think about it, then raised his head and pointed at the roof frame of the building behind him. Tied to an arrow, there was a quadrangular handkerchief fluttering in the wind like a flag.

-Now I understand the ear-pulling thing.- Lavellan said. -Whose is it?-

-Mine. I refused to unlock a trebuchet for her. She wanted to load it up with pies.- Cullen explained, with a note of frustration in his voice. -Now I’d have to retrieve a ladder, and...-

He watched as Lavellan climbed effortlessly onto the roof, following her with his eyes wide open as she retrieved his handkerchief as quick as a flash. And even before Cullen could articulate a meaningful sentence, she landed gracefully in his proximity, holding the object with a satisfied expression. -Here you are!- she announced, then bowed to him playfully.

Cullen ran a surprised look across her, then breathed a laugh. -Consider me impressed!- he said, wrapping the handkerchief around his hand to keep the wind from blowing it away.

Lavellan shrugged. -It's nothing.- she replied, taking her time to scan his face.

It was clear that the topic of conversation he was having with Cassandra wasn't about a prank, just as it was obvious that Cullen had no intention of opening up to her about it. Thus, she decided to give him space, and took a step back, to resume the path she was following upon meeting him. -Goodnight, then.- she farewelled him, adding a reassuring smile for good measure.

-Goodnight, Your Worship.- Cullen said back, trying to smile back. He failed miserably, by displaying a contrite grin instead.

Lavellan tried to ignore it, and quickly walked up the steps leading to the apothecary's quarters.

Although, she stopped right at the top.

She knew better than to pry, but her curiosity got in the way. So, she turned back at Cullen out of interest, and when she noticed the state of his face, she couldn't help herself. After a small debate within herself, she drew his attention by waving a hand. -If you give me five, I can escort you back to the gates, what do you think?-

He didn't answer right away, adopting a doubtful expression as he was pondering. When he made up his mind, he gave her a simple nod of agreement.

After receiving a praise and a reprimand from Adan, for overdoing the amount of material collected, Lavellan exited the building with a pleased look on her face.

She found Cullen waiting for her in the middle of the small square below. He was warming his hands over the campfire together with a courier. The latter was reading aloud the content of a message on which Lavellan immediately recognised Harding's handwriting.

-Tell Sister Leliana that Captain Rylen will report directly to her in the morning.- Cullen replied, in an authoritative tone. -And reassure her that now that the rifts at the Fallow Mire are sealed, the evacuation will be a very manageable task.- he concluded, turning to Lavellan, who had just joined him. -Good job over there, by the way.-

She clutched her cloak, breaking into a half-smile. -Piece of cake.-

The courier bowed. -Commander, Your Worship.- they excused themselves, then vanished.

Lavellan couldn't hold back a surprised grin, of which Cullen managed to intercept the tail before it left her face. -Ser Rylen told me what happened this morning.- he admitted, lowering his voice. -You should have brought it up at council.-

-What for? At council it's better to focus on far more serious problems than an altercation.- Lavellan said, as she would have preferred to fight a Despair Demon with her bare hands, rather than stressing the topic.

-Protecting your dignity is just as serious.- Cullen emphasized.

Lavellan snorted a laugh that was anything but amused. -That little bit of respect you are giving me comes from my usefulness, don't deny it.- she ran a hand over her throat, nervously. -I can't point out something you witness on a regular basis without doing anything to fix it. Just as I can't accept a special treatment just because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.-

Cullen took a deep breath, fixing his cloak. -You’re done?-

Lavellan relaxed her posture, then found herself nodding.

-You know I didn't mean to scold you.-

-I know.- Lavellan replied, glancing away. -You didn't need to clarify.-

-Of course I needed to.- he exhaled, lowering his gaze. -Just as I need you to know you can count on us for anything.- he paused. -You can count on me for anything.- he corrected himself, softly.

Deflated, Lavellan took a step closer to the fire. -As long as it's the people outside the Inquisition weighing my heritage on me, I can handle it. But it's just heartbreaking to know that no one here respects my person when they don't recognise me.- she turned a disappointed expression on him. -Fenedhis lasa, lethallan! Shouldn't they at least wave me good morning, since I'm about to close a bloody celestial chasm with the mere imposition of my hands?-

He gave a sharp nod of denial. -Apparently not. But rest assured they'll figure it out between double shifts and intensive cleaning.- he answered.

-I believe I already told you I hate punishments.- she said, with a hint of disapproval in her voice.

-Those aren't punishments but disciplinary measures.- he corrected her. -When someone under my responsibility makes such pathetic mistakes, I consider it to be a personal failure.-

-I get it, but in doing so you're acting on my behalf. You are not my henchman!- protested Lavellan, facing him.

He moved as well, with a stern air. -Then confront them already!-

-I can't!-

-Why? You do it all the time when you are on a mission!-

-This is different.-

-In what way?-

-Because now that I have left my clan, this is my family and it's my duty to protect it. Even if it means suffering.- she explained, at the edge of patience.

-The four of us are family.- he corrected her, while pointing at himself. -And when they offend you, they're offending us as well. If you don't want to do anything about it, by continuing to avoid conflicts rather than teaching a lesson to those who deserve it, we're the ones who have to make up for it.-

-You’re done?-

-I'm done.-

They exchanged a long, intense look, then relaxed their posture in unison.

They stood silent, warming themselves by the fire, until Lavellan couldn't stand the tension any longer and exhaled an annoyed wheeze. -Can we talk about work, please?-

Instinctively, Cullen reached out to pass a hand around her shoulders, with the aim of comforting her. But when he realized the implications of that gesture, he changed the course of action at the last moment.

He retracted his fingers, enclosing them in his palm for a few moments, then gently placed them on her arm. -Gladly.- he replied, softly, leading her towards the gates.

*

-Up with your back!-

Lavellan immediately did as she was told, for that was the price to pay when Madame Vivienne was around.

Sitting on a soft armchair, surrounded by books bigger than himself, Dorian opened a mischievous smile. -You should balance something on her head. It worked for me.- he suggested to Vivienne, tickling his chin with the fluffy feather he was writing with.

-Whose side are you on?- complained Lavellan.

The latter had offered to help the two mages catalog a collection of books donated to the Inquisition by the entourage of Grand Enchantress Fiona. It was a time-consuming and unenjoyable task, but Lavellan didn't mind, as it was an excellent opportunity to browse through genres of literature she rarely came into contact with.

As a matter of fact, the three of them had spent the entire morning drawing up an inventory of titles, taking a single break for lunch, and switching between dialogues aimed at completing the task and outright bickering given by the temperamental nature of the two Mages.

-Your Worship doesn't need exercises for balance, but rather a corset.- said Vivienne, flipping through a manual for apprentices.

Dorian hiccupped a laugh. -Would you really want to impose a corset on her? Thin as she is, she would disappear.-

-It is precisely because she is as thin as a leaf that she must maintain a correct posture at all times.-

Lavellan rolled her eyes. -Can you avoid speaking of me as if I wasn't here?-

Vivienne turned to check her, head to toe. -My dear, if you want to control any conversation, you must have the means to do so, and right now you are hopelessly unarmed.- she paused. -You are an intelligent and well-groomed woman, you just lack to harness some of that grit you show in combat for far less bloody situations.- she closed the book, to store it on a shelf in front of her. -Never underestimate the power of a persuasive smile and proper posture.-

Dorian sighed theatrically. -You sound just like my mother.- he commented. - "Your worth will always be recognised by the way you present, not for what you have within."-

-Your mother is a smart woman.-

-My mother's a hag.-

-I'll pretend I didn't get the insult.-

-I can repeat it, so you can give me one of those indignant looks that bring you so much satisfaction.-

Lavellan could barely hold back a smile, as she went back to rearranging the tomes at Dorian's feet. -I don't think a proper posture would be enough to convince people that I'm not just a divine mark attached to a pair of knife ears.-

-I thought that was rather obvious.- said Vivienne, with a certain disappointment. -Besides, it seemed equally obvious to me that my suggestions were not aimed at changing you intimately, but at modifying your attitude according to the social challenges you are presented with.- she paused, to cross an item off a list. -Your words demonstrate that you’re underestimating your importance in an organization such as this. You must have realized that, at this moment in time, your voice is much louder than those of your colleagues.-

-And that's saying a lot, since Cassandra's delicate uvula could bring a bear out of hibernation.- commented Dorian, getting up to check the list for himself.

-Whether you are a believer or not, my dear, pilgrims march from all over Thedas to see the Herald of Andraste. The Herald, I say, not the Right Hand of the Divine.- Vivienne continued, ignoring her colleague's intervention in full.

-And yet they keep handing me their coats.- Lavellan punctualized, stretching her back after having moved a tome on food transfiguration bigger than her torso.

Vivienne shrugged in an act of deep frustration. -Because you are behaving exactly in the way you don't want to be perceived: a mark attached to a pair of knife ears. You are no longer a huntress, you are an icon, act like one.-

-And how does an icon act?-

-Exalting what would make it valid, and projecting it wherever you can.-

Dorian sighed. -What she means is that a diamond is only a piece of stone if you keep it locked in a box. To make it shine, you have to expose it to the sun with pride.-

-A very lazy metaphor.- commented Vivienne, turning in his direction with a smile stained with satisfaction.

Dorian reciprocated, accepting that silent compliment.

-I have no intention of creating more conflict than I have already caused.- Lavellan admitted, uncertainly. -I'm used to avoiding it, unless it’s strictly necessary.-

Vivienne stepped in front of Lavellan, clasping her hands together in front of her chest. -Don't ever do that again. Conflicts serve for those you lead to recognize your worth.- she explained, opening her fingers in Lavellan's direction. -Use them to your advantage, to define your leadership.-

Lavellan arched an eyebrow. -How?-

-That is for you to figure out, my dear. I don't know you intimately, but I have seen the way you deal with the challenges of the world beyond. You could be as feared as you would be loved, if you wanted to.-

Lavellan shook her head, firmly. -Despots are feared, madame, and I don't want to leave that kind of mark on the Inquisition. All I ask for is just a modicum of respect.-

-Then stop hiding. Let yourself be seen, and be omnipresent. Everyone's eyes must gravitate towards you when you enter their field of vision.- Vivienne paused, to turn her head towards Dorian. -We could remedy that last part right away, actually. What do you think, Master Pavus?-

He breathed out a long sigh, then stared at her wearily. -I think natural hues with a color accent are in, these days. She’d look good in red.-

-Then accessories and buckles will have to be copper-plated.-

-Steel, or silverite then. Copper stinks of poverty. Do you want to help her become an icon, or do you want to make her look like a stable girl?-

-Volcanic aurum it is, then. Silver kills her colors.-

Lavellan passed a confused look over the two of them. -I'll pretend I know exactly what you're talking about.- she mumbled. -Again.-

-Perfect! I work better without directions.- replied Vivienne, grabbing Lavellan's arm to lead her elsewhere.

Dorian hurried to put down the book he was carrying, and caught up with them, grabbing Lavellan by the other arm. -Do hairdressers exist in Ferelden, or are they still stuck with spit and bone combs?- he inquired.

-The very fact that you are asking it is an answer in itself.- replied Vivienne, dryly.

Lavellan emitted a long, high-pitched moan with her mouth closed, conscious that she had got herself into a situation with no way out.

*

The room where the leaders of the Inquisition assembled, in the sacristy of Haven's Cathedral, was small, cluttered with books and parchments, and it had no windows - to prevent sensible conversations from being seen and heard. Although the airtight closure of the room ensured a nice warmth for those attending the meetings, unfortunately it had become a concentration of strong smells and despair, as the grease from the candelabra hanging from the ceiling and the fumes from the incense sustained increasingly heated conversations about the ongoing situation.

That day, Lavellan entered the room in the midst of an argument, holding a stressed bundle of parchments.

-We can't devote all our finances to supporting spies and merchants solely!- said Cullen, vehemently pointing to a recent report by scout Harding that was sitting on the table. -The Inquisition should start investing in soldiers. We have a shortage of Templars; the few we host are exhausted and we’re out of lyrium to sustain them. Also we really must send messengers to the Free Marches to request more units, since those few left who have not remained loyal to the Order are either already here, or in hiding.-

-Given the current situation in the Circles north, I doubt the lords of the major cities would risk sending anyone.- Cassandra intervened, equally irritated.

-The Grand Enchantress assured us that Mages are equipped for any eventuality.- Leliana intervened, arms crossed over her chest. -They’re perfectly capable of managing themselves.-

Meanwhile, Lavellan had moved to Cassandra's side, placing the bundle on the table.

-Securing us a safe route for trading is just as important.- Josephine asserted, casting a thorough glance at the newcomer. -Most of the things we order from Ferelden arrive damaged, and the food is spoiled.-

-Those are luxury goods, not resources.- Cullen corrected her. -The bills of lading are embarrassing. What are we going to do with twenty kilos of velvet if we don't even have enough wool to reinforce refugees' tents?-

-Fabrics are measured by length.- Leliana corrected him.

-Our troops need proper uniforms.- replied Josephine. -Velvet is water-resistant and easily cleanable. It would be simpler for them to appear tidy in case of an important occasion.-

Cullen's eyes widened into a stunned expression, as Lavellan leaned over to pick up the report from the table. She read about the possibility of a route of convenience linking the Fallow Mire to a path in the Frostback Mountains bordering Haven, and immediately understood why her colleagues couldn't come to an agreement.

-It disintegrates after a couple of blows, and provides no protection whatsoever against the elements!- Cullen blurted out, focusing on the velvet and making it a matter of honor. -Sure, it's fancier and more presentable than leather, but it's a waste of...-

-The path will be intended for scouts and spies.- Lavellan decreed, continuing to glance over Harding's report. -It’s necessary for them to trust a quick and safe route to pass on information. Without it, soldiers would be blind and intemperate, and merchants at risk of brigandage.- she paused, noting with pleasure that her colleagues had given her the floor without protesting, something that rarely happened while they were involved in heated discussions. -We’ll use the surplus velvet to line the inside of the infirmary and the halls. It's good for blocking out draughts, and strong enough to get us through winter without contracting cold-related illnesses.- she placed the report on a corner of the table to replace it with the bundle she was carrying.

-I've been chatting with Madame Vivienne plenty, these days. I enabled her to coordinate with several orlesian enchanters and knight-officers who are already in contact with her, so that they can send specialized personnel, including educators and Templars, to the Inquisition.- she handed one of the parchments to Cullen. -I know these numbers aren't as high as you’d like, but this may allow Captain Rylen to catch his breath a little.- she added, as Cullen retrieved the document to read it.

-Before I left Redcliffe, Corporal Vale guaranteed me the support of new recruits.- Lavellan continued, taking advantage of the lack of interactivity before anyone could steal the scene. -Refugees have been redistributed between the Crossroads and Winterwatch Tower, so that they can receive immediate assistance on several fronts. At the same time, this will enable the troops we have on the territory to intervene more promptly. Oh, and we freed the East Road from those noisy bandits.-

-Don’t forget the dragon.- Cassandra added, giving Lavellan an eloquent look. -The path is cleared to allow our people a safe trade route.- she confirmed.

Josephine presented them with a prideful smile, then hurried to note something on the lectern she was holding. -Gorgeous! Lyrium will arrive faster this way.-

Lavellan retrieved the last parchment from the bundle, consisting of a series of notes. She took a much needed pause before expounding on that point, as it was particularly close to her heart. -I have contacted several clans, granting them protection in exchange for medicinal herbs for our infirmary, and prompt interventions on the areas affected by the rifts that, at the moment, we are unable to reach. Additionally, I have requested the arrival of several hunters who will help us exploit local resources to avoid having our food shipped to us, since the valley is full of druffalo and ungulates. It's not prized meat, but at least soldiers and refugees will be well fed and we won't be forced to throw away whole crates of food.- she shifted her gaze to Cullen. -Druffalo skin is difficult to tan, but it can be used to make durable light armor.-

Cullen, who seemed to have calmed down, ran a hand down the back of his neck to stretch it out. -Local hunters will be glad to have some extra help.- he said, finally relaxing his features.

Cassandra tilted her head slightly, observing Lavellan with an attentive gaze. -I thought you didn't want to involve your people in our matters.- she intervened, with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Lavellan gathered up the parchments to stack them under the daily agenda, then exhaled a soft sigh. -Can you blame me?-

-No.- Leliana answered in her colleague's place, giving a composed smile. -I imagine it wasn't easy to convince them.-

-They're not expecting a red carpet, that's for sure.- Lavellan admitted. -But I know I can keep them safe.- she paused briefly. -And that I can count on you for anything.- she added, tightening her hands behind her back.

-Of course!- Cassandra hastened to say, resting a hand on Lavellan's shoulder.

Cullen was unable to hold back a smile tinged with satisfaction, as he retrieved the papers from the table to store them elsewhere.

*

-In short, welcoming Madame Vivienne into our ranks was an excellent decision.- commented Josephine, intercepting Lavellan who, after consulting with Mother Giselle, was walking down the eastern nave of the cathedral, heading for the exit.

They exchanged a nod of greeting.

-You arranged your hair delightfully.- Josephine said, looking at her interlocutor with a beaming smile. -I felt it was inappropriate to point it out during the last assembly, but I'm really glad you decided to experiment with a different style.-

-Why not? I like compliments.- joked Lavellan. -As Madame Vivienne would say, "it’s appropriate and more akin to a personality like mine."- she added.

Josephine narrowed her lids. -You don't seem particularly convinced.-

-It's not something I'm used to, Ambassador. That's all.- Lavellan admitted, glancing up the nave, in which Mother Giselle was conducting a solemn reading of the Chant. She spotted Cullen, who was listening to it, head bowed, and wondered how long it would take before a messenger interrupted him. -I'm not complaining, don't get me wrong. Fortunately, it's not difficult to adapt to a few new suits and a different hairstyle.-

-Some women would argue differently.- Josephine declared, then leaned in her direction, covering her mouth. -Not to mention men.- she added, quietly.

Lavellan turned an amused expression towards her. -I'm a practical girl. If this helps me to convey the message more efficiently, I don't see why I shouldn't take advantage of it.- she explained.

Josephine straightened the collar of Lavellan’s new jacket, affectionately. -Accept the advice of an antivan: don't waste your time trying to reach impossible expectations. Be the best version of yourself, not what others think it’s appropriate, or adequate.- she suggested. -Your commitment to the cause is enough to define the kind of person you are, the rest is a bonus.-

Lavellan nodded, somewhat relieved that someone as poised as Josephine saw things that way. They weren't opinions at odds with Dorian and Vivienne's, far from it, but they were just as useful for a person in distress like Lavellan, who was forced to do her best in a hostile environment. Somehow, that intervention gave her a great hint on how to approach future challenges.

-If, however, you needed an extra opinion on fashion...- Josephine took her under her arm, lowering her tone of voice dramatically. -Leliana and I could really use some girl time.-

Lavellan chuckled. -Sounds fun! I'll keep that in mind.-

They bid each other farewell with a big smile, then Josephine headed for the apse of the cathedral, and Lavellan walked the other way, finally heading outside.

On her way out, she noticed a squad of scouts queuing to present Cullen with an endless series of messages, and found herself giggling about it, shaking her head in resignation.

When she realized, however, that there was a line of people three times as long waiting for her outside, the justice that ruled the world wiped the smile off her face.

*

-They look comfy.- said Sera, who was playing at pushing Lavellan's hair from one side of her head to the other, picking it up at the top to run her fingers over the shave that started at her temples and went all the way to the back of her neck.

Lavellan, who was thoroughly exhausted, let her, often giving Varric a pleading look so that he would intervene, in vain.

The three were sitting on the wall that embraced the forge, enjoying a breath of fresh air before Lavellan was forced to return to her duties. By now, that had become their meeting spot, useful when they needed a moment of relaxation during excessively tiring days. They treated it as if it were their property, chasing away anyone who wanted to occupy it without their permission.

-Even "he who shall not be named because if we are here it's basically his fault" kept them that way for some time.- Varric said, leaning towards the girls. -Then he realized that Hawke wouldn't acknowledge him even if he walked around on all fours, so he stopped trying.-

Lavellan frowned, tilting her head in response to Sera’s brusque movements. -Here, about your controversial friends: I hope you’ll never describe me as you described them in the Tale. Especially the elves.-

Varric shrugged. -Too late, Handy. I’ve already found twenty different synonyms for 'neurotic' to exploit.-

Sera grunted a laugh. -Get another twenty for 'creepy', in fact forty! Do you remember when she explained to that peasant how orlesian executioners disposed of the heads in the Blessed Age?-

Varric's face twisted into a grimace of annoyance. -And here I am again, skipping dinner.- he declared.

-It's general knowledge!- protested Lavellan. -How was I supposed to know that idiot would vomit all over Cassandra's boots?-

Varric retrieved a pad from his pockets to draw a quick note. -"...ppointed grunt".- he repeated to himself, then turned the charcoal over in his fingers. -That's not general knowledge, Handy. General knowledge is listing capitals, not Mortalitasi's favorite embalming methods.-

-To be precise, the Mortalitasi do not embalm...- Lavellan tried to point out, but Sera interrupted her with a -Neurotic.-, covering her face in hair.

Varric cackled, then shifted his gaze to the training ground. -What the hell is going on over there?-

Lavellan narrowed her eyes, equally intrigued. -I was wondering that myself, honestly.-

-Maybe Curly had a nervous breakdown.- Varric speculated.

-Or in the midst of a mid-life crisis.- Sera replied, drawing two unconvinced glances at herself.

After sliding down the little wall with a leap, Lavellan straightened her cloak, then nodded expectantly to the two. -I'll go check it out.- she said, moving eastwards.

Varric hesitated just a moment, then did likewise, hurrying to catch up with her. -I don't wanna miss this.- he said.

Sera watched them leave for a while, undecided whether to join the group or continue minding her own business. -I think I'll fill your mattresses with rotten fish.- she finally announced, snapping her fingers in the air with a sharp gesture.

*

The training ground had been completely revolutionized,

Equipment and dummies had been moved to make way for an extended rectangle, marked at the corners with bags of salt, and on the sides by a row of rocks of varying sizes. Several officers, including Rylen, were inside it, in training gear. Outside it, there was a good number of soldiers cheering loudly for the start of an event.

Lavellan scanned her surroundings, interested, and once she spotted Cullen, she reached out to him to ask for an explanation.

He was standing, arms folded, just above the shortest side of the rectangle and had one foot resting on a stone, looking sternly at his officers as the crowd was begging him to hurry up.

-What's going on? - Lavellan asked, walking beside him.

Cullen turned his head slightly in her direction. -We're playing a game.- he replied, flatly.

-Are you his good twin, or the evil twin?- she joked, with a hint of surprise in her voice.

Cullen exhaled a soft laugh, then he turned straight in her direction. -It's a thing we used to do at the Circle, on a regular basis. Since it's usually the officers who put soldiers under pressure, today it's their turn to do the hard work. It's beneficial for teamwork, and humanizes the chain of command.- he paused, lowering his voice so that no one around him could hear. -At the time, it was also a way to show the troops that officers were chosen by merit, not because of favoritism.-

-I knew there was something dreadfully educational going on! For a moment I thought you'd lost your mind.- Lavellan poked him, causing him to roll his eyes. -Why do they have a handkerchief tucked in their pants?- she added, tilting her head as she noticed more and more bizarre details. -And most importantly: what do you all eat to be all this...- she palpated the space in front of her, genuinely impressed.

-It’s the mountain air.- Cullen indulged her, having begun to observe his interlocutor with growing interest. -Since you’re here, would you like to assist me?-

Lavellan glanced at him, then at the rectangle. -What would you like me to do?-

-Gentlemen, your attention, please!- Cullen shouted, startling her. A large number of soldiers gathered around the perimeter, along with those already present, as the officers stepped in front of their commander.

Rylen exhaled a loud yawn, then clucked his tongue. -Excuse me, sir. I wish I was somewhere else.- he admitted, placidly.

Cullen just glared at him, refraining from giving him any encouragement. -We are in luck.- he announced. -Today the Herald of Andraste will do us the honor of attending the games.- he pointed at Lavellan, who raised a hand cheerfully. -Hey!-

Rylen nodded to her, while the other officers extended a composed bow.

-Since you don't know the rules, I will therefore refresh them, so that you can assist me properly.- Cullen went on, joining his hands on the hilt of his sword as he straightened his posture. -It's an elimination game, usually played in pairs. The final goal is to steal the opposing teams' handkerchiefs. If one team member is eliminated, the other player continues to participate anyway.-

-And what are the prizes at stake?- Lavellan asked, passing an intrigued glance over the participants.

-Knowing him, a pat on the back.- replied Rylen, looking at his superior in command with a resigned expression.

-A dinner at my expense at a tavern in Redcliffe.- Cullen corrected him.

-The Lantern, or Lloyd's? - asked a young blond woman with the rank of lieutenant, whom Lavellan recognised because she had recruited her personally in the Hinterlands.

-Either way, it's a pat on the back.- Rylen protested.

-Let's raise the bar then.- Lavellan proposed, drawing attention to herself. Cullen studied her face thoroughly, then curved the corners of his lips into an intrigued smile. -I'm all ears.-

Lavellan gave it little thought, spreading an increasingly mischievous grin across her face as time went on. -Hand me your favorite.- she said, then raised herself up on her toes, reaching for Cullen’s ear to share her thoughts.

After hearing them, he blinked in surprise. -Oh!- he exclaimed, visibly impressed. -I expected worse.- he admitted, after she stepped back.

Whoever was around stretched their neck in their direction, waiting. -So?- Rylen asked.

Cullen cleared his throat. -All right. We’re going to play differently today. The rules remain, except that you will play individually. Everything is allowed, apart from low blows; whoever steps out of the perimeter is eliminated and you each get two breaks and two amonitions.-

The lieutenant raised her eyebrows, puzzled, while Rylen chuckled softly, having understood where his commanding officer was going with those changes.

Surprisedly, Lavellan entered the perimeter, wearing an excessively cheerful expression.

-Oh, f*ck no!- a veteran groaned, drawing attention to himself. A cacophony of comments, from exultant to perplexed, emerged from the crowd of soldiers. Everyone, however, had to agree that this novelty just added depth to the game.

-The first who takes her handkerchief has two whole days of unavailability.- Cullen continued, handing Lavellan a piece of fabric, the same one she had retrieved from him the day before. -Meaning, we’ll simply forget about your existence even if, and I quote: "a three-headed dragon attacked Haven on board of a flying ship led by Pride demons".- he paused. -Any questions?-

Rylen raised his hand. -If one wanted to, say, go to the thermal baths, would their expenses be covered by us, or...?-

-And if one wished to withdraw?- the disgruntled veteran asked, pointing at Lavellan.

-Come on, we are ten against one. It'll be a cakewalk!- a chevalière who was stretching her arms intervened.

-A damn marathon, you mean.- the young lieutenant who had asked the very first question corrected her.

-Seriously, do I have to pay for the baths myself, or is there a chance you might offe...?-

-Perfect, no questions. We can start!- Cullen said, clapping his hands a couple of times. -Ready?-

Lavellan slipped off her cloak, tossing it to the side of the ring, then stepped back, charged like a spring. -Ready to lose, Commander?-

-Go!- Cullen interrupted her.

He watched Lavellan take a couple of hops on the spot to warm up, then immediately assumed a satisfied expression, noting that only two out of ten officers could actually keep up with her, as she was running from one side of the rectangle to the other effortlessly.

Varric approached him just a couple of minutes after the start, rubbing his hands together with an amused expression. -Who's keeping the bets?- he asked, as Lavellan cut the veteran off at the knees and stole his handkerchief.

-Amonition!- shouted several soldiers, in an echo of disapproval.

-Granted.- Cullen replied, drawing a dirty look from both the veteran, who would have to return to the game, and Lavellan - who didn't take long to retrieve her trophy back.

Varric chuckled. -So, about these bets?- he insisted.

-I'm the authority here, I have no idea.- Cullen replied, pointing at a small group of soldiers at the other end of the rectangle. -And while you're at it, bet ten pieces of silver on a finale between her and Rylen.- he added, raising his eyebrows in response to an impossible dodge by his number-two. -That man would betray his mother for a spa day.-

-I have to anticipate them, I suppose.- Varric said, flinching in response to a sudden fall of the chevalière who, from her face alone, seemed to want to take back the comment she had made earlier about the difficulty of the game.

-I told you, I want nothing to do with such pastimes.-

Varric passed an unconvinced glance at him, then hurried to the indicated spot, readying the money bag.

In less than ten minutes, four of the officers had been eliminated and Lavellan didn't seem to feel the slightest sense of fatigue. The audience was divided between those who wanted her to fail miserably, and those who couldn't wait to see their superiors fall to the ground after yet another vault by the Herald of Andraste.

-Tomorrow I'll wake up with an extra lung.- lamented the chevalière, who had taken advantage of her break to consult with Cullen, in search of a strategy. She was bent double, trying to catch her breath while ignoring her subordinates who were clamoring for her to return.

-You were the one who said it would be a cakewalk, weren't you?- Cullen poked her, as Harding handed her a towel.

-Oue, mais je savais pas qu'elle fois une sauterelle!- the officer snapped, pointing at Lavellan with a sharp gesture. She had just slipped out of someone’s grip, cushioning her fall with a somersault that she completed by giving herself the boost to knock down the fifth officer and steal his handkerchief. -On est foutu, mon commandant! She's making us look like idiots!-

-Because you are. You must act as a group, not on your own.- Cullen pushed her back inside the rectangle. -Remember what's at stake.-

-I could use a leave myself.- Harding intervened, looking at Cullen with disappointment painted in her gaze. -What happens if she wins?-

Her interlocutor pulled a contrite face. -Come on, Ser Rylen! Think of the spa.- he urged, in a whisper.

But his number two didn't need much encouragement, because he was doing exceptionally well inside the rectangle.

Rylen’s strategy was to keep as much distance from Lavellan as possible, organizing the attack and defense of his subordinates as if they were actually hunting. His expression had remained serious since the beginning of the game, and a great sense of determination could be read in his gaze.

-Don't worry, thermal baths aren't that special!- Lavellan shouted at him, waving the sixth handkerchief while the chevalière limped out of the rectangle. -Did you know that fereldans allow their hounds to bathe in their same pools?- she continued, slaloming among the officers to avoid a chain of grips. -Do you really want to stink like wet dog for two consecutive days?- she kicked in the gut an opponent, who had every intention of using their fists to stun her, then took a lap around the field, to visualize the situation as a whole.

Rylen dodged just in time to prevent her from stealing his handkerchief, missing her arm just enough for performing an effective grip. -Don't you dare ruin the spa for me, worshee! - he scolded her, positioning himself so that he could study her moves, no matter how unpredictable they seemed.

-I'm not ruining them, I'm telling you the way it is because I care! I wouldn't want you to be too disappointed when I take you out. -

The soldiers around her greeted that provocation with a guttural 'Ooh', approving that exchange with amusem*nt.

-If you take me out.- he corrected her, indicating to his subordinates to take positions at three specific points as to intercept her. -But that’ll never happen.-

Lavellan slowed down, to look at him with an intrigued expression. She gave herself several seconds to explore his face, then burst out laughing and raised her hand. -I call break!- she shouted.

-Thank the Maker!- exclaimed the young lieutenant, as pleased as her remaining colleagues to be able to catch her breath.

Followed by a soft applause, underlining the validity of her performance so far, Lavellan trotted towards Harding, who was handing her a towel from the sidelines. She wiped her hands quickly then returned it, flashing a smile.

Cullen passed a quick glance at her, then shifted his attention to Rylen, who had just stepped in front of him in search of moral support. -I'm saving my energy for when it starts getting serious.- the latter said, after taking a sip of water.

-Huh? What has she done until now, gardening?- asked the chevalière, taking back the glass to replace it with a towel.

Harding laughed. -Do you really want things to get serious? You heard that, Lav?-

Lavellan, who was releasing her muscular tension by hopping on the spot, laughed in return. -I thought this was a game, not a fight to the death.- she replied.

-Putain!- exclaimed the chevalière, genuinely impressed.

-Bless you!-

Rylen shrugged, wearing a contrite expression. Cullen placed a hand on his arm, tightening the grip firmly. -If you win this, it's all on me.-

The Captain rejuvenated. He lifted his eyebrows, leaning towards his interlocutor. -Everything everything? Even souvenirs?-

Cullen held his breath, exhaling it in the form of a hoarse groan. -Even souvenirs.- he echoed, by no means thrilled at the idea.

Rylen ran a surprised look over his commander's face. -Her reward must be particularly humiliating, if you are so desperate.-

-Nah! He's just a grump.- Lavellan reassured him, quite amused. She pulled off her boots, followed by a confused look from those in the audience, then she removed her jacket and handed it to Harding. -All right, then. Let's get down to business.- she said, shrugging the fun off her face as she tied her hair back.

Getting down to business, for her, involved eliminating two of the four remaining officers within thirty seconds and annihilating the third, who had mistakenly attempted to tackle her during a vault. This led the crowd to react instinctively with shouts of surprise, almost in unison, despite favoritisms.

Without the boots and jacket to impede her movements, her agility had increased, allowing her to make swifter turns and gain an absolute mastery of the rectangle.

On the other hand, Rylen had superior tactical experience and a knack for problem solving. He held position like a rook, preventing his adversary from surprising him from behind, and futileizing any attempt to engage him in increasingly articulate submission grapplings.

Naturally, Varric was rooting for Lavellan, pointing out her opponent's weaknesses while pursuing her from the sidelines. However, this only helped Rylen to correct the shot.

There were two collutations. During the first, in which Rylen somehow managed to tackle Lavellan to throw her to the ground, she pulled half of her opponent's handkerchief to herself, without taking it off. During the second, however, there was an exchange of strikes so fast that Rylen had to resort to all his dexterity to reach his opponent's back, failing for a split hair.

The officers who still had energy within their lungs contributed to the crowd cheering in a heartfelt manner, inciting both players equally, because the outcome was by no means a foregone conclusion - but partly because Rylen had the bad habit of being horribly outspoken and tended to put his subordinates on the spot at least once a day.

That match, in general, was a demonstration of the inestimable value of the Herald of Andraste, who knew how to play the game and, at the same time, was able to dominate it. It was proof that she was a capable woman who never considered giving up, and this instantly earned her the respect of those who hadn't seen her at work yet.

Cullen watched the situation with a hint of nervousness in his gaze. Unable to join in the cheering, he limited himself to watching the two do anything to win, trying to focus on the confrontation rather than its consequences at the same time. To tell the truth, he seemed to be dying to enter the arena himself, but his neutrality prevented him from doing so.

Lavellan sniffed up through her nose, stretching her jaw after receiving an accidental hit. Rylen took advantage of that pause to step back and catch his breath. -Sorry.- he said. -Do they really let dogs inside the pools?- he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on her every move.

Lavellan increased her distance as well, to take a run-up. -You'll never get there, get over it!- she exclaimed, dashing in his direction.

Rylen, who had arrived close to the perimeter, waited for her until she was terrifyingly close, ducking at the last moment. Lavellan's counter-move, having guessed his plan, was to plant her feet close to the rocks to give herself enough thrust to reach him on the fly and fall to the ground with him.

Harding raised a fist towards the sky. -I knew she wouldn't fall for it!-

The chevalière exhaled an unsatisfied sigh, causing Cullen to turn around for a moment.

-Oh, I got it! The only way to eliminate me is to get me out of the rectangle.- Lavellan commented, once the two players had distanced themselves again. -Here's why we're standing on the perimeter.-

Rylen charged in, with every intention of confining her to a corner. -Did you get there all by yourself, or did you use the prompter?- he taunted her, preventing her from passing and regaining the center of the rectangle, where she used to strike.

Lavellan waved him forward, amused. -I gather the prompter has helped you more than he has helped me. I don't need anyone's assistance to beat you.-

Rylen snorted a laugh. -I'm glad to hear that you're tired of letting us do the dirty work when you get disrespected, worshee.- he said.

-Oh, shut up! Thanks to my stubbornness, latrines have never been so clean!- she joked, giving him a mischievous smile. -Are you trying to make me lose my temper, Captain? Are you that distressed?-

Rylen smiled back. -Is it working?-

Lavellan answered him with an explanatory glance. -Forget the spa.- she said, as her adversary attempted one last assault.

Harding held her breath, Varric instinctively recoiled, and Cullen straightened his back in response to the action.

Rylen opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of a good portion of his subordinates, who were staring at him in disbelief.

Lying at his side, Lavellan exhaled a disapproving groan that would have made Cassandra envious, massaging her back from having just hit a particularly gibbous rock.

They sat down, realizing they had both ended up outside the perimeter, handkerchiefs still attached to their backs.

The soldiers cheered anyway, congratulating the two and applauding for a performance that had kept them on their toes from the very first moment.

-I don't understand, did we win, draw, or lose?- Lavellan asked.

Each soldier had a different reply to give her, so she turned to Rylen, who was sharing her confusion.

-A tie would suit me fine, but we could try a tie-breaker. Rock, paper scissors?-

-You could continue to fight until there's a clear winner.- a soldier suggested over their shoulder.

The two contenders exchanged a look of mutual understanding, then both showed their clenched fists, knocking three times before choosing a figure.

Varric and Harding shouted in total exultation as Lavellan wrapped her hand around Rylen's fist with an amused expression. Rylen turned that gesture into a handshake, then gave his handkerchief to her, accepting his defeat with sportsmanship.

They barely made it to the prize-holder, swimming through the crowd that gathered around to congratulate them at the top of their lungs. As one of the rare entertainment events for the soldiers, who worked tirelessly from dawn to dusk, neither protested too much at the unsolicited physical contact, the endless handshakes, and the opposing supporters claiming Lavellan's victory was actually a draw.

Cullen greeted the two with a pleased expression, patting Rylen on the back a couple of times before shaking hands with the winner. -A wonderful match. Ser Camille?- he turned to the chevalière. -Could you clear the court and organize the next games?-

Ser Camille immediately stood to attention, looking cheerful. -Absolutely! - she exclaimed. -Your Worship, would you be so kind as to grant me a rematch sometime in the future?- she added, giving Lavellan an unsure smile.

-You really are a masoch*st, child.- the other replied, laughing.

The chevalière winked at her, then turned away to restore order among the troops.

Cullen rested his wrist on the hilt of his sword, turning to Rylen with a solemn air. -In case she had won, the Herald expressed her desire to give you a day's leave, and that you'd be compensated for half of the expenses during your stay at Halamshiral's baths.- he announced.

Rylen's eyes widened, then he grabbed Lavellan's head to place a kiss on her temple. -A bit too much of a react, but you're welcome.- she commented, amid the applause of praise from those who appreciated generosity.

-That's it? - Varric asked, disappointed by that smallness.

Cullen tightened his lips, then huffed a dry sigh through his nose. -No.- he replied, then went away.

Followed by the confused gaze of everyone present, and Lavellan's smug grin, he walked calmly towards the lake's southern pier.

He reached its end, drawing the attention of a couple of Haven's ice-fishing villagers to entrust one of them with his sword.

He slipped off his armor and boots, only his shirt and pants stayed on. Then, he took a deep breath and dived in, accompanied by the applause and laughter of the soldiers.

Lavellan bowed deeply as a cacophony of shouts of jubilation and heartfelt thanks converged on her. Apparently, that was a moment of general catharsis, for Cullen's severity as a commander was second only to his tendency to demand firm discipline from his subordinates. Seeing him struggle gave satisfaction to many.

Cullen emerged from the lake, running a hand over his hair before sitting down on the ice and dragging himself ashore to avoid freezing to death.

Harding ran up to wrap him in a cloak, followed closely by Rylen, who was laughing like a maniac as he retrieved his commander's equipment from the pier.

-Before I hear you complain that I didn't follow your request verbatim, remember that we are in the middle of winter and in one hour's time we have to decide the fate of Thedas.- muttered Cullen, as Lavellan rubbed his back to help him regain his warmth. -Cursed Maferath, even the gaps between my toes have frozen!-

-Here, here, don't be a wee clipe!- Rylen told him off, covering his head with a flap of the cloak as he began to rub his hair vigorously. He cast an amused glance at Lavellan, accompanied by a sly smile. -Maker's breath, worshee, you're a pure rascal! All this fuss over some naked skin.-

Lavellan shrugged. -I've done far worse for a lot less.- she admitted, returning the smile. -Wasn't it him who wanted to distract the troops?-

-I don't think he meant to do it this way.-

Harding chuckled. -Very selfless, Lavellan, very selfless.- she commented, extending a hand towards her, gaining a high-five.

-You're badmouthing me? Really?- Cullen scoffed, trying to wriggle out of his subordinate's grasp. Harding handed him his boots, laughing. -Absolutely not, sir, what makes you think that? We were talking about the weather.-

Rylen rolled his eyes. -Yeah, it's been awfully damp lately.- he humored her, urging his superior to move towards the camp. -Shameful!- he syllabled in silence, pretending indifference when Cullen noticed.

Lavellan and Harding watched them walk away, followed by whistling cheers and applause from the soldiers.

-I gave him two options, actually.- Lavellan admitted, twisting the handkerchief in her hands. -Either to dive into the lake butt-naked just to indulge me, or to please Rylen and give him that bloody leave, since I was certain of a finale between us.- she paused. -In truth, the lake wasn't even an option, it was a way of pushing him to accommodate the Captain.-

Harding exhaled a long verse that exuded tenderness. -So he does have a heart, under that gruff fereldan bark!-

Lavellan observed the handkerchief for a long time, mentally thanking its owner for that umpteenth outstretched hand towards her. Once her mind had finished basking in the warmth of that gesture, Lavellan wheezed, raising her eyebrows over an impressed look. -And what a bark! I'm afraid half Haven will have to take a cold bath as well, after this.-

-By half Haven you mean yourself, I assume.-

Lavellan gave Harding a look that fully confirmed that theory, then moved back towards the training ground, a smile on her lips and a lighter heart.

Chapter 6: Between the Zest and Pulp of a Lemon

Chapter Text

Boiling wine, cinnamon, orange, and nutmeg

The council was assembling during a heavy snowstorm that made its presence felt through the howling of the wind and the constant sound of pine branches slapping the walls outside the apse of the cathedral.

The mood of two out of the three advisors attending mirrored the weather's austerity faithfully. In fact, Cassandra's face was contracted into a grimace of pain, and Cullen's forehead was so scrunched up that one could easily count every wrinkle that marked it with accuracy.

Josephine observed the two of them with a hint of curiosity in her gaze, caressing her lower lip with the end of a quill. By this time, she was accustomed to spending hours beside those expressions, but they were usually accompanied by verbal quarrels, thus she assumed that the others were not at odds, rather it was possible that they were united by a thought that put them both on edge.

-I've read dozens of books on dogmatic philosophy.- Cassandra said, all of a sudden.

-I'm glad.- Josephine replied, casting an uncertain smile at her.

Cassandra rested both hands on her hips brusquely. -This morning, the Herald gave me an extract to read...-

-Wait a second.- Cullen intervened, interrupting her. -Did it start with the author eating a spoonful of yellow paint?- he asked, interestedly.

Cassandra immediately turned a surprised face. -Yes, exactly. Did you get it?-

-Absolutely not!- he answered, then ran a hand over his forehead out of relief. -Thank the Maker! I thought I'd become stupid.-

Josephine passed an amused glance across the two of them. -Care to explain?- she asked.

Cullen nodded, but it was Cassandra who obliged. -I was just saying that this morning the Herald had me read an excerpt from a handbook that she frequently consults.- she paused, to make a point. -A handbook that would give the Chancellor a heart attack if he saw it.- she then cast an explanatory glance at Josephine. -I have no idea what it was about. In the beginning, precisely, the narrator finds himself in a basem*nt, eating yellow paint while rambling about.... what was it?-

-Don't look at me.- Cullen hastened to say, raising his hands in a halting gesture. -I distinctly felt something fracture in my brain when I read: 'the condition of the wind crystal schism is the imperfect progeny of the air seed's protuberances'.-

Cassandra shot him a look dripping with frustration, before continuing. -The narrator then goes up one floor, licks a residue of blue paint from a palette and starts talking about how life among the icy wastelands was the best thing that ever happened to him. Then he goes up again, walks to his bed and suddenly the excerpt ends with him gazing at 'the mephitic Fade green across the metal, with a feeling of shame in his heart but a feather in his soul'.-

-What metal?- whined Cullen, opening his arms in a nervous gesture. -Why is it mephitic?-

-And what does it mean that his soul has feathers? He's been eating colors the whole time!- intervened Cassandra, genuinely distressed. -We have to figure this out before she gets here. Think of something, Commander, quick!-

-Can't you just… let her explain it?- Josephine asked.

-No.- replied the other two, in unison.

-If she had us read it, it means that she thinks we are capable of understanding it straight away.- Cullen elaborated. -It has to be something more complex than it seems.-

Cassandra shot him an interested glance. -What does it seem like to you?-

Cullen hesitated. -A very crass bit that had me in stitches for half an hour.- he admitted, shifting a guilty look elsewhere. -I don't think it's worth explaining myself in those terms in front of two ladies.-

-Thanks, but no thanks.- Cassandra scoffed. -Now you tell us.-

Cullen took a few moments to process his thoughts, then cleared his throat. -I'll say this as politely as I can, but that's definitely not the point of the extract.- he premised. -One cannot spend two pages dealing with theoretical philosophy when in fact the story is about emptying their stomach after eating poorly.-

-Emptying...- Cassandra gave him a look tinged with total resignation. -Andraste's grace, Cullen! It's definitely not that!-

-And what did I tell you?- he protested, at the edge of patience.

-Actually, blue and yellow do make green.- Josephine murmured, lowering her gaze to the tactical map. -No, I don't think the Herald made you read anything intentionally vulgar. You're not that kind of audience.-

Cassandra pointed at Cullen with her thumb. -I'd like to remind you that he laughed for half an hour at a man pooping.-

-I didn't laugh at...- Cullen puffed, sonorously. -I was amused by the contrast between the narrator's overly polished language, so extreme it was beyond comprehension, and the crude act itself.-

Cassandra rolled her eyes. -Can you read it too, Josephine? I'm sure you'll succeed where we failed.- she offered, retrieving a paper from under a pile of notes to hand it to her colleague.

Josephine nodded, circling the table to join her. She read the extract carefully once, twice, three times, becoming more and more depressed as she resumed her reading. When she gave up, she adopted a confused grimace, similar to the one her colleagues had worn since they arrived.

-I'm sorry, but I can't make sense of these color metaphors.- she said. -Now I feel stupid myself.-

-Or maybe it's the Herald who's too clever for us.- said Cassandra, looking defeated. -For him, especially.- she pointed out, nodding at Cullen.

Josephine struggled to keep some sort of composure, but it was clear from her expression that she concurred wholeheartedly with the last statement.

Cullen tried to argue back, irritated, but the entrance's door opened at that very moment.

Lavellan and Leliana were discussing a damp report made illegible by the snow in several spots. Both had their clothes completely soaked and their faces were reddened by the cold.

As they were drying in front of the fireplace, the other three glanced at each other tensely, looking for a way to introduce the problem as well to Leliana, thinking that her wit would grasp what they had missed.

-Sorry for being late, it's this damn storm. If I hadn't asked Bull to escort us, we would have flown away.- Lavellan said, rubbing her hair with a towel. As she heard no reply, she paused to look at everyone present, individual by individual, wearing a worried expression.

-What's going on?- Leliana asked, as she made her way to the table with the same confusion.

-Nothing, really.- Josephine replied, while Lavellan flanked Cassandra, who leaned over to help her dry herself properly. Taking advantage of the distraction, Cullen promptly retrieved the extract and stacked it on a folder to camouflage it, then handed it straight to Leliana.

Josephine instantly motioned for her to read it, then placed the index finger over her mouth, instructing her colleague to keep things discreet.

Leliana looked at the two with uncertainty, then faced the extract.

-You're acting suspiciously.- Lavellan mumbled, adjusting her hair after emerging from Cassandra's brusque care. -Seriously, what's up?-

Leliana raised an astonished glance at Josephine, then resumed reading, frowning over an expression that was the epitome of perplexity.

-The Hinterlands, right? - Cullen intervened, trying a diversion.

-Yeah. Now that we've secured the southern area, we can tackle the East Road.- Cassandra chimed in.

-No, sorry, I can't.- Leliana said, putting an end to the play by waving the paper in front of her face. -You must tell me what this is, ‘cause it makes no sense whatsoever.-

Lavellan exhaled a wail of pure embarrassment, covering her mouth with both hands. She turned to Cassandra reproachfully, saying -Why did you let her read it?-

A tight silence dropped in the room. At that, Cassandra took courage in both hands and did what her colleagues categorically refused to concede. -Because none of us understood the damn thing, Lav.- she said, evading eye contact.

That remark allowed Lavellan to shake off the awkwardness. -Oh, that's better, then! It was pretty gross.- she said, cheerfully. -Funny, though. Only Varric got it.-

-Varric?!- groaned Cassandra, shocked.

Cullen cleared his throat, with an odd spark of revenge in his gaze. -Was it about, by any chance, a relieving act after having eaten poorly?-

Lavellan snorted, producing a noise that dangerously resembled a chuckle. -Blue and yellow make green.- she said, trying hard to keep herself from laughing.

-Blue and yellow make green.- Cassandra repeated, growing more and more incredulous as time went on.

-Listen, that's not the hilarious part.- Lavellan explained, striving to remain composed. -It's...-

-The contrast between the overly polished language and the vulgar act itself.- concluded Cullen.

Lavellan leaned towards him to grab his arm. -Did you notice that every letter that starts a paragraph forms the word "crap"?-

Cullen laughed, hysterical. -Damn, feels good to be right!- he said, causing her to laugh as well.

Meanwhile, the other three didn't stop looking stunned for a moment, gazing at each other as if the Holy Andraste had just appeared to bless them with a slap on the back of the neck.

-She's not too clever for us, it's us who aren't dumb enough for her.- groaned Cassandra, then immediately took on an expression imbued with gratification. -Except him.- she added, pointing at Cullen.

The latter, who was laughing with Lavellan while she was reviewing the funniest passages of the extract, didn't even bother to acknowledge the offense.

Peach puree and sparkling white wine

-There's no need to contradict me every single time!- Leliana blurted out, addressing Cullen.

Josephine glanced disconsolately at the war table, exhausted by yet another argument. Without Lavellan to oil the friction between them, downplaying spiky situations, every meeting had become a clash of egos, causing the leaders of the Inquisition to leave the council room with a gigantic headache every single time.

That morning, the discussion revolved around a Bann's request to side with the Inquisition, allowing it to exploit his vast resources on the condition that its diplomatic branch would find a way to take down a minor landowner, his rival in a public dispute.

-I'm not contradicting you, I'm reiterating how futile the situation is.- Cullen protested. From his facial expression he seemed to share the same emotional weariness of Josephine. -Bann Olivier should understand that at this moment we're anything but interested in a silly brawl between nobles.-

Leliana sighed, running a hand over her forehead in a gesture that denoted all her frustration. -We are, actually. Bann Olivier has a certain political weight at court and we truly need allies.-

-Allies interested in our cause, not in our hidden talents.- Cullen pointed out, moving a hand to indicate the exit. -Have you noticed the state of the sky, or am I going blind?-

That remark, if possible, annoyed Leliana even worse. -Of course I noticed it, Commander, but once the Breach is sealed we won't be able to rely solely on ourselves.- she insisted.

-Inquisition is neutral, Leliana. We should stay out of these games as much as possible.-

-We aren't neutral.- Josephine intervened, trying to establish herself as the voice of reason. -We stand with the people, and to do this properly we must assert our influence in a variety of environments in which our proteges are not included, to represent their interests. Bann Olivier's means could make a difference to those whom we are unable to assist because of our primary commitment.-

Leliana gave a nod of approval, then turned to Cullen. -Do you understand now?-

Cullen, whose features had just relaxed thanks to Josephine's speech, went rigid again. -It was a concept clear from the start.- he said, outraged. -I'm not the new to this and I don't deserve condescension.-

-If you really had understood right from the start, you wouldn't be fighting me!- Leliana scoffed, placing her hands on the table to lean in his direction.

-I'm fighting you because if we helped Bann Olivier today, tomorrow we'd have to assist another nobleman and the day after tomorrow we'd have to discredit both of them to win favor over a bigger fish.- Cullen elaborated, frowning. -This isn't a game worth playing.-

-That's how things work, Commander. They won't change overnight just because you don't like it.-

Cullen took a deep breath. -I'm fine with diplomacy. I'm not comfortable with having to plan for my men to be the ones that pay the price.- he said. -They joined us to change the world, not to be deployed at the whim of someone who...-

It was again Leliana's turn to be indignant. -Your men? Do you think it pleases me to send my agents on hopeless missions?-

-I didn't say that.-

-It was implied.-

-Absolutely not!-

Josephine interposed herself between the two, to prevent the situation from escalating. -We will present the situation to Cassandra and the Herald, so that they can make an appropriate assessment as well.- she decreed, imposing a determined stare on both of her colleagues. -They'll be here shortly, so I suggest you to restrain your opinions until then.-

Leliana tightened her lips to prevent a rebuttal from escaping; Cullen did likewise.

Josephine reserved her relief at having defused the argument, as she returned to consulting the agenda.

Unfortunately, when she saw that the next item to be discussed concerned another thorny topic, she inevitably found herself praying to Andraste, in search of comfort.

Sitting at her office desk, with a cool cloth pressed against her forehead to alleviate the terrible migraine consequent to the council meeting, Josephine hoped Lavellan would return quickly. Possibly with a big smile and a joke to defuse what her mind considered an irredeemable working relationship.

-Ma'am, Bann Greenhorne requires your presence urgently.- announced a young dame in her employ.

Josephine took a deep breath, then gently folded the cloth on the table, prolonging the gesture to regain composure. -Tell him I will meet him as soon as possible.- she said, taking her time to get up.

Once her employee had left the room, Josephine checked her face in the mirror she kept on her desk, blotted her cheeks with a little powder to mask her fatigue and then assumed an elegant posture, retrieving her lectern to walk over the place where the Bann awaited her.

The atmosphere smelled of anticipation for the Herald's return from the Storm Coast.

Soldiers' excited chattering was second only to the enthusiasm of the cathedral's maintenance staff, who were exchanging scarcely believable stories about Lavellan's exploits with feral giants, and epic battles with packs of mabari in the Blades of Hessarian camp.

Josephine was certain that half the things she heard were a bunch of exaggerations, but a small part of her hoped there was some truth in those stories, because they would give her something to fantasize about during her endless talks with the local nobility.

Speaking of which, the Bann awaited her in a comfortable waiting room that the Inquisition had installed inside a building near the cathedral. Many guests from higher social classes found it unworthy and unpleasant, but in reality it was one of the most comfortable rooms in the stronghold, equipped with a stove, cozy armchairs divided by an elegant tea table, and a variety of ways to ensure diversion.

-I apologize for the waiting.- Josephine said, after closing the door behind her. She sat down in front of a nobleman skinny as a nail, whose nose skimmed the ceiling as his sharp gaze surveyed everything it landed on.

Josephine's mind associated his figure with that of a rodent twitching his whiskers while scanning the air for a trail of cheese.

-Ambassador Montilyet.- the Bann greeted her in a dry tone. His voice was as pleasant as his presence, acting on Josephine's hearing like a sheet of sandpaper on living flesh. -I did request an immediate conversation. The wait was interminable, indeed.- he scolded her.

-I realize that, but this is a very delicate moment for the Inquisition. I appreciate your patience.- replied Josephine, resting the lectern on her lap. -To what do I owe your illustrious presence?-

The Bann flinched, appalled. -Apparently, my letters have been ignored.- he said. -I requested a visit, months ago. A visit that was granted to everyone in my salon, except for myself. I find it, at the very least, indelicate.-

Josephine lowered her gaze to a footnote from Cullen, followed by another handwritten by Leliana. Both described the Bann in colorful, irripetible ways, and agreed that in front of her was sitting an individual as irritating as a pimple on the nose at the eve of an important happening.

-You, like the refined woman you are, should understand the position you put me in.- continued the guest, piqued. -Even Lady Trevors came to visit the crater... and she is a merchant's daughter.-

Josephine inclined her head just a little to the side, trying not to show that the implied offense had touched her. -My lord, bear with me, I cannot arrange a visit for you at the moment. As I have already told you, this is a very delicate time for us.-

The Bann tightened his eyelids over a skeptical look. -How is it that all my friends were able to enjoy a visit with excellent guidance and then, by the time I arrive, all of a sudden you are in a delicate moment?-

-Your friends didn't come close to an operation. You, on the other hand...-

-The truth is, you don't think I'm important enough.-

-I can assure you that is not the case. I promise that we will grant you a visit as soon as the Breach has been sealed.-

-It wouldn't be the same thing!- the visibly annoyed Bann protested. -I want to have the same experience my friends had last month!-

Josephine counted mentally to ten, before answering. -I'm afraid that's not possible.-

The Bann was now livid. -So far, I’ve been very patient, Ambassador, but you leave me no choice but to report your behavior to the Arl.- he curled his lips. -We welcomed your refugees for the season, per your insistence, granting them food and clothing for the winter. Would you not mind if, all of a sudden, these cares were to fail, would you?-

Josephine arched an eyebrow. -Are you threatening me? For a guided tour?-

-I'm not threatening you, Ambassador. I'm just telling you that every action has consequences.- the Bann pointed out, turning the palm of his right hand towards the ceiling.

Josephine was ready to reply accordingly, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

The Bann clicked his tongue on his palate, then exhaled an annoyed sigh. -Is it too much to ask for a little privacy?- he blurted out, as Lavellan entered the room. -You may leave. I have already been served.- he tried to dismiss her.

Lavellan, who was still wearing her travel clothes, shot a glance from him to Josephine. -Good for you. I would give an arm for a cup of tea.- she raised her left hand, after slipping off her glove.

The Bann tightened his lips as Josephine stood up to greet the newcomer. -Welcome back, Your Worship.- she said, offering her a big smile imbued with relief.

Lavellan winked at her, then turned to their guest. -Are you going to get up or what?- she snapped at him, jokingly.

Her interlocutor corrected his behavior without putting too much emphasis on it, holding his jacket over the stomach as he rose to his feet. -Your Worship.- he greeted her. -I didn't recognize you.-

-It happens a lot.- she downplayed, pointing at her face in allusion to the Vallaslin. -Now, can you explain why you're harassing my colleague?-

-This statement is untrue.- the Bann replied, frowning over a forcibly astonished expression. He indicated Josephine with a nod. -I was the one who was treated disgracefully. I was denied a visit to the crater, which instead was granted to members of my salon. I consider this insulting and, now that you are here, I would appreciate it if measures were taken in this regard.-

-Of course.- Lavellan replied quietly, resting a hand on the back of Josephine's chair to suggest she sat down. -Can you remind me who this man is, and what importance he has for our cause?- she asked to her colleague.

Josephine had to resort to all her composure to avoid smiling with pure satisfaction as her guest blushed violently. -I can, Your Worship. Bann Greenhorne is a valvasser of Arl Stormhedge. Her lordship has allowed us to set up fortifications in her territories to watch over the rifts and provide immediate aid to refugees.-

Lavellan nodded slowly, looking absorbed. -His threat has foundations, then.- she said, then turned to the guest. -After all, it's the Arl's duty to meet the needs of her vassals, however frivolous they may be.-

-My reputation is not a frivolous matter!- the Bann whimpered. -I'm the only person in my salon who hasn't seen the crater!- he insisted.

-But you're also the only one who has seen the Herald of Andraste in person.- Josephine added, placing her hands on the lectern.

-Actually.- intervened Lavellan, raising a hand to provide clarification. -He's the only one who has been called "a vain and egotistical homunculus" by the Herald of Andraste.-

The Bann held his breath theatrically, opening his eyes wide. -This is an outright insult! How dare you?- he gasped.

-I dare, yes, I dare.- Lavellan said, sitting down calmly. -Just like you dared to threaten Ambassador Montilyet, despite the fact that she tried to assist you.- she immediately assumed an expression permeated with seriousness. -You may report to your friends that you are no longer welcomed by the Inquisition. Now be courteous and leave this place on your own, before your attitude prompts me to banish you from our territory in a manner far more damaging to your reputation.-

Her interlocutor, who had turned purple, was indignation personified. -I don't know who you think you are, but know that your insults will have serious consequences.-

-And this is the second threat he makes.- Lavellan declared, turning in Josephine's direction.

The woman shook her head in defeat. -Some nobles err on the side of haste in wanting to dig their own graves.- she commented.

The Bann puffed out his cheeks, vomiting various insults towards the background of those who were present, then pointed his finger at them. -This is not over yet!- he growled.

-And three.- Lavellan said, standing up to open the door for him. -Do yourself a favor, sir, get out of our way and don't waste our time anymore.- she suggested, flashing him a smile as false as brass.

The guest shot an angry glance at the both of them, then left the building, voicing loud complaints for all to hear.

Once Lavellan closed the door behind her, Josephine relaxed her posture, leaning back exhausted. She released a sigh at last, running a hand over her forehead.

Lavellan prepared some tea herself, so that she could help them both digest that conversation. After placing a small cup in Josephine's hands, she presented her with a gentle smile. -Have I ever told you that I love working with you?-

Josephine exhaled a laugh. -A couple of times, Your Worship, but it's always a pleasure to hear you say it.- she replied.

-I hope you didn't tell him about the next tour.-

-And draw Ser Rylen's murderous sarcasm on me?-

Lavellan chuckled. -Good choice.-

They took their time to sip tea, lulled into a silence necessary to recover their energies, then exchanged a look tinged with relief.

-What did they do this time?- Lavellan asked, retrieving the empty cup from her colleague's hands to place it on the table.

Josephine clung to the lectern. -The blame is shared, unfortunately.- she confessed. -How did you know?-

-Cullen, obviously.- she answered. -When you fight, he's the first to show remorse.-

Josephine was clearly puzzled. -Seriously?-

-Seriously.- Lavellan confirmed, amused. -It's not obvious, because he's prouder than Cassandra when it comes to standing his ground, but you can tell a kilometer away that his pouting is all an act.- she elaborated.

Josephine hinted at a smile. -I guess I'm not the only one who thinks you're indispensable at council.-

Lavellan chuckled. -Imagine if the Anchor had ended up in Varric's hands.-

Josephine raised her eyebrows, astonished. -Don't make me think of that! Cassandra would have resigned at least three times by now.- she speculated, making her interlocutor laugh louder.

After Lavellan calmed down, she started rummaging through her pockets. -Changing the subject.- she said, as she gathered a small painted glass bottle and handed it to Josephine. -This is for you.-

The other turned it between her fingers, casting an uncertain smile. -What is it, some alchemical substance that prevents migraines?-

-It's perfume, actually.-

-Perfume?-

Lavellan nodded. -Hope you like it.-

Josephine studied her face for a long time, then opened the bottle. Immediately, her nose was overpowered by the pungent fragrance of lemon, enlivened by a floral trail and a woody base that formed in her head a clear image brought forth by nostalgia. Her body took a temporal flight, reaching Rialto Bay on a sunny summer afternoon, when the only way to escape the sultriness was to take shelter in the shade produced by the keel of a large sailing ship, while sipping white wine diluted with seasonal fruit juice.

-Your Worship...- Josephine murmured, after dampening her wrists. -I have no words, really.- she said, running her thumbs over the colored glass, cradled by a pleasant sense of comfort.

Lavellan leaned in her direction, to place a hand on her forearm. Josephine hastened to squeeze it, giving her a look dripping with gratitude. -You are... an invaluable friend.- she confided in her.

-I try my best.- Lavellan replied cheerfully.

They looked at each other for a long time, sharing a wistful smile that was in reality an endless string of thank-yous. Then they plucked up courage and headed for the council room, arm in arm like two old friends who meet again after years without time ruining it.

Dry red wine and pomegranate berries

When Cassandra walked through the Inquisition's stronghold, everyone would give way.

Her figure exuded strength and hope, but what distinguished her above all her qualities was determination. She possessed the paradigm of a good leader: believing, passionate, strong-willed, and selfless. From the very first weeks, in fact, everyone in Haven paid her every kind of attention affiliated with respect.

In recent times, however, people's attention had inevitably shifted in another direction. Which was justified, given the Herald of Andraste's wins in the field, but whereas previously her efforts were concentrated solely on the battlefield, and in the council chamber, at that moment in history her presence was taking on considerable social and political importance. This was due, among other things, to her constant involvement in Inquisition's internal affairs.

When she was in Haven, the Herald always made sure to attend drills and meetings, communicating with officers on a regular basis, but also with anyone who had a problem to submit to her, pinning it down for later.

It wasn't her duty to deal with management issues, but she seemed willing to help if there was a real need for her intervention. This new social attitude towards her role enabled her to gain popularity very quickly, ensuring the appreciation of a large majority of Inquisition's personnel.

This was more than fine with Cassandra, because the fact that the attention was all on her colleague allowed her to better focus on her tasks without distractions. Plus, she didn't see Lavellan as competition, as she shared the trust that everyone had in her regards, since she was perpetually at her side when they were distant from Haven, to take on missions that saw them constantly at risk.

That morning, Lavellan and she were supposed to meet up and plan a short visit to the Hinterlands, to investigate a mercenary gang harassing refugees in the southwestern portion of the territory. Given that they worked well together, with no major friction of strategic nature, Cassandra was positive they would find an excellent way to deal with the problem.

She walked along Haven's icy streets with a firm stance and wide strides, heading for the forge, then reached the horse corral, where Lavellan was having a conversation with one of the engineers who worked with Harritt. He was a young man of Chasind descent, and he seemed distinctly annoyed, according to his facial expression and gestures.

Lavellan was wearing a hood and clothes suitable for hunting, white and brown to simulate the winter landscape. She was holding her arms crossed on the chest and her expression was the perfect representation of discomfort.

-No, ma'am, I simply can't do the job all over again.- the engineer protested, placing a hand on a new fence to test its solidity. -See? It's perfect.-

Lavellan, however, seemed to have a different opinion. She walked to the side of the construction, indicating its height, then stepped over it with a lazy vault effortlessly. -You see what the problem is? If I, tall as a ladder placed horizontally, can do it, imagine a horse!- she pointed out. -Those guys can jump.-

-Nah, we used to make fences like this in Gwaren and nothing ever happened.- her interlocutor minimized, reaffirming with gestures the solidity of his work. -Horses need space, outside the stables.-

Lavellan blinked, exploring the three-by-three meter fenced box with her gaze. -Do you really think this is roomy for a two-hundred-pound beast?-

Cassandra joined, giving Lavellan a curt nod.

The engineer bowed briefly to the newcomer, in a way that was far too hasty because he was caught up in the confrontation. -I can' t carve out space where there is none, Your Worship.- he protested.

Lavellan leaned against the fence, stretching towards his interlocutor. -Even halla would get claustrophobic in here.- she said. -I'll arrange with Harritt, and we'll look for alternatives.-

-Well, couldn't you have discussed it before making me spend a day working uselessly?- the other one said.

-You're an engineer, for crying out loud! I can't feed you with solutions! -

-And you can't complain about issues that don't exist.-

Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise, as in addition to seeing the clear problems in the construction, she also felt the tone of that discussion was very inappropriate.

Lavellan, however, remained unperturbed. -The issues are there, whether you see them or not. I'll help you find another area to be fenced off, because that’s not up to you to decide, but I expect the work to be perfect by next week, or Master Dennet will be very unhappy with the way the Inquisition treats his mounts.-

The engineer exhaled an annoyed sigh, then rested his hands on the hips. -He won't complain, Your Worship. The only one who has ever taken issue with my work is you, to be honest.-

-Because I have to rely on you when I'm not around, and if you screw up, consequences fall on my shoulders.- Lavellan explained, climbing over the fence again to move closer to Cassandra.

-I didn't make a...- the engineer began, then froze. He passed a cursory glance over his interlocutor. -What does an elf even know about construction!- he commented, at the peak of frustration.

-I'm not "an elf".- Lavellan said, looking at the engineer sternly. -I'm the one who’s going to send you chopping wood with a butter knife, if you keep this attitude.- she paused. -Understood?-

Her interlocutor hesitated before answering, then nodded. -Yes, ma'am.- he said, half-heartedly.

-"Yes ma'am" my ass! Do you know how many skilled and passionate people there are in the Inquisition ready to take your place?-

-No one is more skilled and passionate than me, Your Worship.-

-Then get rid of the sass and give me a fence we can use.- she decreed, then pointed to the forge with a firm gesture. -You have seven days.-

The engineer swallowed a pointed remark, then did as he was ordered, leaving with his tail between his legs.

Lavellan waited until he had gone far enough, then turned to Master Dennet, who was grooming a bay not far from the fence. -Engineers, am I right?-

-Ah, you're kicking in an open door!- the man said, genuinely amused. -You're always this harsh, Inquisition?-

-We lost five good soldiers to reach your farm, Master Dennet. I'm not being harsh, I'm being fair.- Lavellan said, shutting down the conversation.

Cassandra took the opportunity to address her colleague.

She placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it just a little. -You've been far too permissive, in my opinion.- she commented, as Lavellan welcomed her with a big smile.

-Ah, even bears are nice compared to you!- joked her interlocutor, who seemed genuinely pleased to see her. -You could have intervened, you know?-

-Why?- Cassandra asked, leading the way to the frozen lake. -In these cases, I prefer to watch you and the Commander puff up your lungs. I would just get angry.- she elaborated. -And besides, you seemed to be doing excellently. My intervention would have been superfluous.-

Lavellan gave her a skeptical smile. -You would have corrected me, once.-

-Once, I thought you wanted to kill me in my sleep.-

-Quite rightly.-

They exchanged a look of mutual understanding, then Lavellan continued northwards at a determined pace.

While moving, the two were pursued by a chain of greetings and blessings, until they were too far from Haven's walls to encounter a frequent stream of people. At that point, Lavellan exhaled a weary sigh. -Humans are fickle, huh? First they hate me, then they praise me, then they forget me, and now it seems like I'm the heroine of all lost causes all over again. In all this... where's my darn griffin?-

Cassandra exhaled a hoarse laugh, moving at her side across a path parallel to the frozen lake. -Along with your sense of humor: extinct.- she joked, catching her under the arm with a fluid gesture.

Lavellan emitted a boisterous laugh.

They reached the interior of a semicircle of skeletal fir trees, which hugged a pebble beach on the south-eastern shore of the lake. It was a place constantly kissed by the sun, so the ground was mostly cleared of snow.

Once there, Lavellan stood still, disentangling herself from Cassandra to pull the hood off her head. -Don't laugh, please.- she prompted.

Cassandra arched an eyebrow, confused. When she realized what her colleague was referring to, her lips formed an 'o' that identified her surprise.

Lavellan ran a hand through her hair, on which little of the rich antivan blond remained, localized at the ends and on several locks that streaked her light blond hair. She brushed it back, grouping it to one side, then turned a complicit smile on her colleague.

Cassandra gave her a laconic look. -So this is why you insisted on going for a walk.- she observed. -Or why you've been wearing a hood for three days.-

Lavellan retrieved a small metal box from one of her bags and tossed it to her. After Cassandra had caught it, Lavellan slipped off her cloak, then her jacket, to uncover the shoulders and so prevent her clothes from staining.

-I thought that since you've let me in on a few details of your private life, you might like to know something about me that isn't work-related.- she explained, proceeding to dampen her hair with cold water from the lake to prepare it for treatment.

Cassandra opened the box and observed its contents. She passed a disgusted glance over a brown mush that gave off an intense balsamic scent. -What's this?-

-Rhubarb and desperation.- Lavellan replied, picking some up on her fingers to smear it on her hair, which she had divided into strands.

-If you wanted to keep it a secret, why didn't you do it in your quarters?-

-Because you need the action of the sun for it to work.-

-Oh.-

Lavellan chuckled. -Why do you think I disappear sometimes?-

-I thought you went hunting.-

-I don't hunt if I don't have to, lethallin. It would be a waste of resources.-

-I know there's a great need. Urgent, I would say.- Cassandra contradicted her, slipping off her gloves to help her out.

Lavellan let her, because that would speed up the process. -I called my people over on purpose. If I hunted too, I wouldn't be able to attend the meetings.- she explained. -I can't leave Josie in the middle of a crossfire!-

Cassandra shot her an amused look. -Among all of us, she's the one who needs your help the least.- she said, stepping behind her to reach the strands on the nape of her neck.

-I know, but a little moral support never hurts. Among your stubbornness, Cullen and Leliana constant arguments, and all those lords cutting her no slack, she definitely needs an extra ally.-

-I'm not a stubborn person.-

-You're being one right now.-

Cassandra snorted a laugh. -Didn't your mother teach you not to wake the sleeping dragon?-

Lavellan lingered for a few moments over that dig. -No.- she answered, flatly.

Her interlocutor fell silent at that slight change of attitude. -I'm sorry, Lav.- she said, losing her smile as she guessed the implications of that dry answer. -When did it happen?-

Lavellan shrugged. -A long time ago, don't sweat it.-

-How old were you?-

-Twelve.-

Cassandra continued her work for a while, before addressing her again. -What about your father?-

Lavellan puffed out a harsh laugh. -The power of cosmetics! Have you ever noticed that the deepest issues always rise to the surface as we take care of ourselves?-

Cassandra sketched a smile. -It must be because it's a moment of great vulnerability.- she replied. -Dressing, putting on make-up, perfuming... these are all manners of preparing ourselves to relate to the outside world in the way we prefer to be perceived. Some do it for personal pleasure, and some do it to convey a precise image of themselves. Either way, it's a mask, whether it is an enhancement or a defense mechanism.-

Lavellan weighed that analysis in her head, finding herself agreeing with it. That reflective side of Cassandra fascinated her as much as her impulsiveness. Both were facets of a character far more complex than the crude paradigm anyone associated with her. Lavellan was grateful that she had allowed her to discover them, enough to make her strive to do the same.

-I hardly know my father.- she admitted, after they had finished applying the tincture. She tied her hair, bringing herself closer to the shore to allow the reflections of the water to cast more light on her and speed up the process. -The only memory I have of him is an old elven toy I use to blow off some steam when my head is swollen with thoughts.- she continued, as Cassandra walked to her side. -But he never showed up, except for meeting me. He was... what do you call them? Moths? Sailors?-

-Butterflies?- Cassandra suggested, uncertain.

-A butterfly that is.- confirmed Lavellan, quietly. -My mother didn't care and, consequently, neither did I. Everyone handles their relationships as they see fit, and I didn't suffer from his absence because my Keeper is very protective, so when mum passed away, Deshanna raised me up as if I were her own flesh and blood.-

-Did it ever bother you that he wasn't there?-

-I didn't miss him much, actually. You know, a clan in itself is like what you Humans would call an extended family. The youngest are brought up by the community if their parents can't take care of them, and the same applies to those who come from other clans. We lean on each other.-

Cassandra passed her gaze over the cracked surface of the lakeshore, with an absorbed air. -Do you ever miss them?-

Lavellan tightened her shoulders. -Sometimes yes, sometimes not... I'm fine here, in spite of everything.- she turned towards her, offering a half-smile. -I don't mind owning my own space, rather than having to share a bunk with someone.-

Cassandra exhaled a laugh. -But isn't that what you do with me when we're on a mission?- she said, with a note of disapproval in her voice.

Lavellan answered her with an amused look. -When the "in spite of everything" kicks in, I tend to suffer from incoherence.- she admitted.

Cassandra ran a hand over her back, vigorously, then went back to looking at the lake.

Lavellan did likewise, grateful that she could share such a personal conversation with her without feeling the urge to bottle up her feelings, as she was usually compelled to do.

So they began a discussion about the mission they were going on, interspersed from time to time by the cawing of two crows that had gone to perch on the fir tree behind them. Fortunately, those interventions weren't good enough to distract them.

Red wine, honey, and crushed forest fruits

It was a fine afternoon in Haven; the last in a series of fine afternoons that fortunately had been going on for almost a week.

The blizzards and sudden snowfalls had finally allowed the sun to show itself, consequently it wasted no time to shine bright on the snow, allowing the streets to dry out so that anyone trapped in the Inquisition stronghold, because of the bad weather, could take advantage of it to leave.

To make up for the time lost waiting for the weather to improve, everyone was working twice as hard. The atmosphere around the training ground was therefore riddled with yawns.

Even Lavellan, who had offered to supervise the troops of archers, upon Cullen's and Cassandra's invitation, soon found herself with a sore jaw from being infected by them.

Ser Camille, who stood beside her, was in the same condition, although she was trying hard to keep her composure, to avoid making a fool of herself in front of the Herald. In fact, she watched over her subordinates with a martial pose: her chin was held high, her hands were firmly entwined behind her back (straight as a pillar), and her face was tight in a state of intense austerity.

Lavellan checked the officer occasionally, recognizing herself a bit in such attempts to impress someone she admired, because when she shared Ser Camille's age she would find herself doing exactly the same thing in presence of older hunters.

-What do you think?- Ser Camille would ask, whenever Lavellan returned to the sidelines after a round of surveying to correct those in need.

She would always offer a neutral comment in response, reminding the officer that she was doing a great job, for good measure.

When Cullen joined them, Ser Camille inevitably assumed a rigidity that turned her into a statue sculpted in anxiety. This worried Lavellan as she could distinctly hear the officer's nerves creaking every time she remembered to breathe.

-Is everything in order?- Cullen inquired, passing a careful glance over the line of archers in training. He was as stern as Ser Camille, but free of all the tension that plagued his subordinate.

Lavellan, who suffered from compassion, rushed to the officer's rescue. -Perfectly in order, actually. I think that, thanks to Camille, even the weakest recruits will be able to catch up in short order.-

-I figured as much.- Cullen said, causing his subordinate to emit a composed sigh of relief. -But since I don't possess the same level of experience in the matter as you do, I felt a double check was appropriate.-

-So you're not worried that my boys aren't up to the task, are you?- asked Ser Camille, opening a surprised look in his direction.

-They're my boys too, mademoiselle, of course they're up to it. I just wanted an external opinion.-

-Mine wasn't sufficient, Commander?-

Lavellan anticipated Cullen's reply. -I think he wanted me to see how skilled you are, rather than testing you.- she half suggested, softly. -Like lions flicking their mane to show off when someone threatens their territory.- she added, stroking the tips of her hair in an explanatory move.

Ser Camille released a nervous laugh, then immediately recomposed herself. -Compris.- she said, relieved.

Cullen glared at them, disapproving of that comparison.

Lavellan responded by winking at him. Ser Camille on the other hand reserved the right to assume an entertained smirk, then moved her eyes on one of the recruits, who was wearing an arm guard incorrectly. -Excuse me.- she said, before going to help them.

Lavellan took advantage of that moment alone to rest a hand on his forearm briefly, as a form of greeting. He welcomed that gesture with the softest smile.

-You wanted to keep her on her toes, admit it.- she said, reproachfully.

-Of course. She's the rookie.- he confirmed, unbothered.

Lavellan wasn't too surprised by his honesty, but she gave him a displeased look anyway. -Seriously, they're doing well.- she reiterated. -They just need to vary their exercises a little, and use their bows outside the training grounds. On real targets, possibly.-

-If I didn't know you were talking about wild beasts, this tip of yours would worry me.-

-I'm not just talking about beasts.-

-I retract what I said.-

Lavellan laughed. -Idiot! I was talking about putting a few spots of paint on trees and rocks in the woods, so they can practice some oblique shots on a path that isn't leveled.- she elaborated. -I already gave some ideas to Camille, I'll help her with preparations later.-

Cullen nodded, before turning to watch the soldiers at work. He paused to observe his officer correcting those who failed with an encouraging decision. -She's trying hard, isn't she? A little eager to prove herself, but I was the same at her age.-

Lavellan was surprised that, once again, she could find common ground with him. -Weren't we all?- she asked him, with a slight note of melancholy in her voice. -If you knew even half the nonsense I used to do, you’d no longer be able to take me seriously.-

-Not that you are the epitome of seriousness now.- he joked, granting himself a playful pat on the stomach. He chuckled, resting his hands on the hilt of the sword. -Thank you for giving her some confidence. It'll serve her well.-

Lavellan ran her gaze across his face, lingering on the scar that cut across his upper lip. -You could do that too, instead of putting her on the spot on a regular, you know?-

-I'm her superior in command, not her teacher.-

-As if you didn't know that a lot of these kids consider you a father figure.- she poked him, softened by his reluctance.

Cullen puffed. -I'm not that old.-

-You're old enough to have a couple of brats on the cusp of adolescence.- she replied, raising her game.

-Ah, well, I'm not the only one. But I'm too well-behaved to joke about the age of a lady.- he teased, giving her a pointed look.

Lavellan returned it. -I trust you're single, if this is how you treat all the ladies around you!-

Cullen laughed, leaning a smile down. -The fault is on those who had raised me.-

-Don't transfer your inability to flirt to the Chantry, mister. It's too convenient that way.- she replied, shifting her attention to Ser Camille, who was returning to them accompanied by a courier. Her face was contracted with a grin of annoyance.

-Tell Lieutenant Burrows that he needs to start making due with the equipment he's assigned.- she said, with her orlesian accent thicker than usual. Meanwhile, the courier was taking notes on the back of a paper tiredly, trying to ignore the bad mood that was being poured on him at the same time.

-What's going on?- Cullen asked, once his officer had returned.

Ser Camille dismissed the courier with a nod, then gave his commanding superior an exhausted look. -The mixed troop requires more lyrium potions than they’ve been allotted. Again.- she explained, with an audible note of frustration in her voice. -In two days they took out the weekly supply.-

-Well, they're Mages. It's normal for them to consume potions like water during a drought.- he replied.

-That's not the problem, I suppose.- Lavellan surmised, analyzing the newcomer with an attentive air.

Ser Camille hesitated before expressing her opinion. -I don't like to speak ill of my colleagues.- she declared.

-And yet, I have the distinct feeling that you are dying to do so.- Lavellan poked her, intensely intrigued by learning of a new piece of gossip.

Ser Camille tightened her lips, seriously doubtful, then decided to spit it out. -Do you know what they say about those born in August, Your Worship?-

Both Cullen and Lavellan gave her an inquiring look, in unison. -August is... Matrinalis, right?- the latter asked.

-Correct.- Cullen replied, dryly.

Lavellan blinked. -Oh.- she exhaled. -What do they say about those born in August, then?- she hastened to ask.

-That they suffer from a passionate egocentrism and when they aren't given too much care, they create a thousand expedients to make themselves the center of attention.- Ser Camille explained, with an expression stuck in the middle of resignation and annoyance.

Cullen frowned, biting his lower lip as he ran a skeptical gaze over his subordinate. Lavellan crossed her arms in a fluid gesture, observing her with an amused gaze. -I was born in August.- she revealed, struggling to hold back a laugh.

It took Ser Camille a few seconds to get that information into her head, and when she realized she had just called her boss a spoilt egomaniac, her face took on an ashen pallor. -Your Worship, I didn't mean to...- she stammered.

-You did mean to, you definitely did mean to.- she said, shifting her gaze to Cullen. -She did mean to, didn't she?-

-Yes she did.- he replied, as he continued to stare attentively at his subordinate. -You'll be pleased to know that I was also born in August.-

If she had a shovel and a gravestone, Ser Camille would have gladly buried herself instantly, without outside help. She immediately regained the rigidity she had struggled to dispose of, looking at both of them with eyes full of embarrassment.

Fortunately, Lavellan was more interested in the latest revelation. She leaned towards Cullen, rather curious. -Wait, are you serious?- she asked.

-No, I like tormenting my officers at random.- he replied, giving her a look tainted with sarcasm. -Of course I was serious.-

Ser Camille took a step back, to wriggle out of the conversation, but the others took her by one arm each, forcing her to stay.

-Damn!- Lavellan exclaimed, opening an uncertain smile between her lips. -So you're passionate about egocentrism as well.-

-She said "passionate egocentrism". It's different.- Cullen corrected her, turning his attention to Lavellan's interest. -This explains why we do everything we can to prevail during meetings.-

-Speak for yourself, I don't need to prevail.-

Cullen let out a scornful laugh. -That description fits you like a glove.-

-Am I still in time to take back everything I said?- asked Ser Camille, in a husky voice.

She received a couple of meaningful glances, whereupon she raised her hands up in surrender. -Can I go back to training the troops, mon commandant?- she asked, to give herself a valid reason for withdrawing.

-Of course, but know that I have an iron memory.- Cullen replied. -Especially when I decide on the watch shifts. The evening ones, outdoors.- he specified.

Ser Camille, who was suffering from an atavistic haste by then, nodded. -C'est bien.- she said, then moved quickly towards her men, looking for a distraction.

Lavellan observed her move away with an amused air, then took a step towards Cullen. -If you really want revenge, at the stroke of midnight the owls sing mournfully on the threshold of the woods.- she suggested. -Super creepy.-

-Didn't you just accuse me of demanding too much of her?- he scolded her, somewhat unconvincingly.

-Yes, but that was before I was called an egomaniac out of superstition.- she admitted, with a laugh. -It's funny, though, to assign character stereotypes based on a person's birth month.-

-Rather than funny, it sounds stupid to me.- Cullen contradicted her, relaxing his facial features. He checked the training ground with a deep glance, then turned back to her. -Indulge me. What day were you born on?-

-So much for politeness!-

-I said day, not year.-

She slipped her hands into her trouser pockets, then exhaled a sigh. -On the twenty-third, near the twenty-fourth. How about you?-

Cullen's eyes widened, staring at her with growing interest. He didn't answer, suggesting that he would have said the exact same thing.

They stood in silence, eyeballing each other, then shifted their attention to the soldiers training, stunned by that coincidence.

-Now you're going to tell me we were born the same year.- she muttered, raising both hands to form a number.

Cullen looked at her uncertainly, then ran a hand over his beard, turning away. -So it really is destiny.- he mumbled.

Lavellan chuckled. -You're such a fatalist.- she commented, glancing back at him.

He gave her a charming smile. -You were right about one thing, after all.-

-Just one?- she joked, reciprocating. -About what?-

Cullen inhaled the cold mountain air, then released a soft sigh. -Nothing.- he said, backing away to return to his duties. -Good day, Your Worship.-

Lavellan, who hated being left without a practical answer to rely on, but at the same time enjoyed reasoning out enigmas, found herself caught in the limbo of indecision. A limbo in which she regularly traveled when she would connect with that man who was apparently so obvious that he bordered on the pragmatic, but at the same time so reserved that he captured her curiosity with a disarming magnetism.

She released her frustration with a shrug, then she passed a hand over her head, forcing herself to return to the responsibility she had taken on.

Red wine and lemon zest

It was late at night when Lavellan received a warning from a huntress of her clan.

She was told verbally, by the same intermediary who had delivered her report to Cullen after their outing to Honnleath.

The house where Lavellan resided was immersed in half-light. A little green fire, trapped in a jar through magic, illuminated an exceptional mess, bathing the contours of furnishings overloaded with piles of books and touching a floor carpeted with boxes filled with complex-looking devices.

Lavellan miraculously managed to retrieve two chairs, balancing them among the clutter to allow her guest to take a seat. He preferred to stand, so she emulated him, positioning herself in front of him near the doorway.

-Laetha reports that she caught them easily, although they managed to blend in well among your people.- Shaan said, keeping a moderate tone. -They claimed to be part of Flisiel's clan and asked very personal questions about you, which is why Laetha assumed they were spies.-

Lavellan frowned over a worried expression, drumming her fingers nervously on the back of the chair. -She guessed correctly. Flisiel is someone who doesn't like to meddle in other people's business and his clan follows his philosophy.- she explained. -Who would want to know so much about me?-

Shaan looked her straight in the eye. -I don't think you are going to like the answer.-

She invited him to speak with a nod.

Her interlocutor paused for a long moment before answering her. -They were sent by your spymaster.-

Lavellan blinked, then shifted her gaze elsewhere. She chewed on her lower lip, browsing through a mental archive to find a justification for her colleague, but she could find no practical sense in her attitude. -When exactly did it happen?

-A couple of weeks ago.-

At that time in history, in which Lavellan was certain that the five leaders of the Inquisition shared mutual trust, that revelation was almost as pleasant as receiving a caress on the cheek by a spiked bat.

She, who had struggled immensely to shake off the sense of alienation and insecurity that being in a human environment caused her, once again found her ankles plunged into the viscosity of doubt. -And here I thought I could finally let my hair down.- she commented, brushing the lockless door with her gaze.

Shaan arched an eyebrow. -You're not that naive, Ankh.-

She sighed. -No, but every now and then it would be nice to be able to take the second pair of eyes off the back of my head without worrying that someone might stab me between the shoulders.- she confided in him.

He responded with a tense smile.

-By the way, have you thought about my proposition?- Lavellan asked him, moving a step closer.

Shaan nodded. -Thoroughly, and at length.-

-So?-

-So goodbye, for now.- he replied, patting her shoulder a couple of times. -I'll stick around the Brecilian clan for a while. When you have something slightly more concrete to offer, I'll lend a hand.-

Lavellan rolled her eyes. -You're complicated, lethallan.- she joked, moving to open the door for him.

-Aren't we all, lethallin?- he said, waving goodbye before stepping into the blackness of the night.

Lavellan followed his silhouette with a frown until it disappeared from her field of vision. After that, she took a deep breath and hurried to dress, to leave herself.

Her brain, corrupted by sleeplessness and resentment, wouldn’t allow her to develop a very rational speech pattern. Still, she knew she had to approach her colleague as soon as possible, in order to confront her with the slip she had made.

As she slung the cloak over her shoulders, she tried to recollect the thoughts she had drawn about Leliana in those few months of cohabitation. She knew that her colleague promoted equality between races and factions, hating wholeheartedly all forms of repression.

In fact, it was her opinion of the Mages that had prompted Lavellan to decide upon involving them as allies, because it seemed far-sighted to her. Even though she was a deeply religious woman, Leliana knew that many conflicts, whether past or future, had stemmed from the Chantry's cultural repression and she dared not justify it, rather she urged necessary change.

Lavellan considered her to be an ally of her people; hence why it was hard for her to process such betrayal.

She walked through the streets of Haven, on her way to the cathedral, bearing a heavy burden on her heart, but above all, she was upset by a deep turmoil in her head.

She noticed that, in front of the tent Leliana normally used to manage her network of spies and scouts, the lanterns had been left burning. To be fair, this was hardly an exceptional occurrence, as none of Lavellan's colleagues managed to get more than five hours of sleep per night due to overwork. As a matter of fact, she was sure Cassandra was still at the crater moving containers of lyrium alongside Cullen, while Josephine was sorting out correspondence in the council chambers.

Lavellan approached the tent cautiously, gently pulling back the drapery that marked the entrance, then looked inside.

Thankfully, Leliana was there. She had both hands resting on the surface of a desk, on which she was hunched over. The light from the lantern that illuminated the surroundings also caressed her face, tormenting it with stark shadows emphasizing the physical and emotional fatigue that vexed their owner.

-Some days I regret having branded as useless the Commander's idea of keeping the kitchen open permanently.- Leliana said, without diverting her attention from the documents she was consulting.

Lavellan approached the desk, slowly. -We had our good reasons for rejecting it.- she admitted, glancing absent-mindedly at a map of the Hinterlands. -Besides, it's fun to contradict him.-

Leliana smiled weakly. -Enough to justify your constant rejection of his advice?-

-I only reject it when it's unintelligent.- Lavellan cut it short. -Speaking of unintelligent ideas, next time you want to learn something about me, choose better allies. We've found out about these ones right away.-

Leliana remained unperturbed. She straightened up calmly, to give her the attention she deserved finally. -The fact that you were able to trace them back to me is commendable.-

-You're overestimating yourself. It wasn't that hard.-

Leliana laced her hands behind the back. -You're disappointed, I get it, but it was a necessary evil.-

-Necessary for whom? For me, the person obviously committed to the cause, or for you, the person who feels insecure when things start to get too personal?- replied Lavellan, decisively. -Are you really that fascinated by the idea of having something to hold against me in case things went wrong between us?-

Leliana took a deep breath. -I don't know who you are, Your Worship.- she admitted, candidly. -And this alarms me. You came all this way for espionage work, after all. Who's to say you're not acting on someone's behalf? Or that your task, primarily, was not really limited to that of an observer?-

Lavellan had to resort to all of her self-control to avoid insulting her. Actually, she really made an effort to put herself in her colleague's shoes and reflect on those words, despite the fact that her body was presenting her with a great sense of rejection.

-You're overly analytical, ice-cold, capable of disconnecting yourself from your emotions with great ease. Sometimes it almost seems to me that you don't possess real feelings, but very credible imitations of them.- Leliana continued. -And then, just as easily, you drop your facade and transform yourself into a triumph of cheerfulness and borderline unbearable jokes. The problem is that even then you are unable to share something of yourself with us. This, Your Worship, is spy-like behaviour.-

At that point, Lavellan abandoned diplomacy. -You know what I think?- she asked, contracting her features in an annoyed grimace. -That whatever I do, it will never be enough. If I offered an emotional response to contradict you, by flipping over the desk for example, you would argue against me more vehemently. If, on the other hand, I offered you a rational, or over-analytical response, I would prove exactly your point. I wouldn't win either way.- she looked her straight in the eye, offering contempt. -You know, I'm tired of having to prove myself to everyone. Humans think I'm incompetent, elves claim I'm too familiar with our oppressors for someone who genuinely has her people's best interests at heart.- she tucked a lock behind her ears to quell her nervousness a little, then lifted her palms to the ceiling, displaying an expression tainted with resignation. -I was hoping that you, of all people, would make an extra effort to understand me, but apparently I made a major mistake.-

Leliana studied the changes in her face silently, seeming to be mentally registering an evaluation. After Lavellan had finished, she tightened her eyelids, bowing her head to look at her interlocutor sideways. -I understand.- she said, flatly.

Lavellan responded to that reaction with a sigh impregnated with disappointment. -It is what it is.- she said, addressing herself. Then, she moved towards the exit, to leave that conversation behind.

-Lavellan? Just a second.-

She forced herself to do as she was asked, stopping beside exit.

Leliana approached her calmly, then stood in front of her, at a distance at which she could face her without risking repercussions. -It's nothing personal, I want you to know that. This is Justinia's legacy.- she paused. -I have to keep it safe, do you understand?-

Lavellan snorted an all-but-amused laugh. -You have a lot of nerve, I'll give you that.- she said. -Don't ask me to understand you, if you're not willing to do the same with me.- she finished, blocking a rebuttal by waving her hand.

She ended the conversation, leaving for good.

The confusion she had felt before confronting her had turned into crude disappointment. At the same time, that resolution helped her make head and tail of her colleague's attitude towards her.

Lavellan realized that she herself wasn't the problem, but rather Leliana's protective and borderline paranoid nature, although this notion failed to redeem her in the slightest.

Despite the ability of Lavellan to downplay basically everything, at that moment she felt absolutely no sense of guilt in wanting to extricate herself from her colleague's abusive behavior, because the justifications didn’t compensate for the injustice she had done to her.

She entered home and, for the first time in weeks, she retrieved a padlock to properly seal the door.

It took her a long time to get over her nerves and, when she did, she automatically corrected her attitude with a good deal of distrust.

The idea of not having a safe space, even when relating to her colleagues, caused a drastic change of behavior towards them.

Her logic suggested that doing so would play right into Leliana's hands, but her instincts brought her back to their discussion, reminding her that it was a battle in which Lavellan had no pleasure in participating.

The next day at council, she took an extra step away from Cassandra, whom she usually stood so close to as to be within her grasp, and did everything she could to avoid participating in the usual small talk that preceded each meeting, limiting herself to formalities.

-No, we can't keep using soldiers as a diversion for your damn spies!- Cullen snapped, after Leliana had asked him to deploy troops in a sensitive area within the bannorn. -Let me remind you that we have used this strategy before, and we suffered two casualties, including an high ranked officer.-

-We definitely need to retrieve that information, Commander.- Leliana, who had no intention of giving up, reiterated. -Bann Olivier is a prominent voice at court, within Queen Anora's inner circle. If we brought him to our side, giving him what he asked for, we might use him if we ever encountered any friction with the Crown.-

However, Cullen didn't seem persuaded at all. -For once, can we treat soldiers as men and not as sacrificial lambs for politics? Also, diversions are the least secure strategy of all.-

-If you have alternatives, please offer them.-

-Let's bribe a servant and get that information without bloodshed. Surely, those who live in the castle know exactly where and what to look for.-

-Okay, but who's to say that once the job is done, he won't double-cross us and report our plans to the victim?-

-He'd still realize that documents went missing from his archives and we'd be the first suspects. If we deployed soldiers in his territory, he would immediately understand that it was a distraction and go complain to his allies. We would still lose credibility no matter what we did.-

Leliana contracted her facial features slightly. -My agents are experts, they would leave no trace and would manage to replace the documents with excellent forgeries.-

-Borrowing time from the dead on the battlefield.-

-Cullen, it's part of their job. Don't think that my people are any less at risk.-

-I know, but we can't waste their lives in such a ruthless way. We must...-

Lavellan interrupted him, snapping her fingers to get her colleagues' attention. She glanced at the both of them, who were staring at her with, between their lips, yet another retort about to be uttered. -There will be no need for soldiers, or spies.- she decreed.

Leliana arched an eyebrow, Cullen rested his hands on the hips, giving her a confused look.

Lavellan hastened to elaborate. -We'll contact the victim through an embassy, make him aware of the situation and ask him to give us part of the documents, so that we can secure a solid alliance on both ends. At the same time, this will make us gain leverage over them in case they reconsider.-

Josephine nodded. -I was thinking about that too, Your Worship. If we played well, we would be able to cover a larger area of influence.-

-That would be much riskier than our thoughts combined, Your Worship.- Leliana intervened, skeptically. -It is unlikely that our victim will agree to join in the deception, just as it's uncertain that our patron will remain unaware of this business.-

Lavellan looked back at the Ambassador. -Josie, is it practicable?-

Josephine thought it over briefly, before offering her an answer. -It will take a lot of work, but I'm confident I can do it.-

Lavellan nodded decisively. -Perfect, then. Let's follow this idea.-

-I disagree, Your Worship.- Cullen added, lifting a palm upwards. -Diplomacy is a long road and refugees need protection now.-

-I concur.- Cassandra said. -The areas of the bannorn affected by the rifts coincide with those most vexed by the Blight. If we had more support at court, we could get prompt assistance.-

-Haven't you thought that maybe excluding a small player in favor of an excellent one would reduce our influence in general? We shouldn't only consider the Crown court, but also salons, and those fringes of minor nobility that are only interested in local politics.- Lavellan looked at her colleagues with an astonished air. -Does it have to be a bloody knife ear to lecture you on Ferelden's fragmentary politics? Sharecroppers don't give a damn about the Crown, since they have full control over their lands and hold veto power over their bann's decisions. We have to play by zone, without marking the big fish exclusively out of impatience, or we risk foreclosing too many options for the future.-

Josephine nodded. -I have to agree.- she said. -And I intend to endorse the idea.-

Leliana reflected on it for a long time, running a hand over her chin thoughtfully. -It might work.- she admitted.

-It will work.- Josephine declared confidently. -The risk remains, but it's an option that won’t cost us lives.-

-Except for the refugees.- muttered Cassandra.

-We are not going to risk our people to indulge in a couple of noblemen's power games.- Lavellan burst out, banging a hand on the table. -We have to be the ones making the rules, not them forcing the rules upon us. I want to make it very clear that I no longer intend to use our people as f*cking pawns! If they are going to die, it has to be for a good reason and this is not it.-

Cassandra took a deep breath. -We don't want our people to die either, Lav. But that's a risk we ought to consider, sooner or later.-

Lavellan turned straight in her direction, baffled. -Do you think I'm here to make flower crowns?- she asked, sarcastically. -I know, for crying out loud! I'm not saying that we should hold hands and sing chantry hymns, I'm saying that it's our duty to rack our brains for alternatives, instead of always choosing the quickest solution.- she caught her breath. -Our obligation as leaders doesn't cover just the helpless, it also covers those who fight for us. If there’s a single chance for them to come home safe, let's welcome one extra hour of council, and one hour less of sleep.-

-Isn't that what we're already doing?- Cassandra resumed, passing an uncertain glance over her.

Lavellan looked at her at length, then turned to Josephine, who shared her astonishment. -Am I speaking elvhen without realizing it?-

-No, you got a point.- Cullen answered in his colleague's place. -And it's good that you expressed it.-

-Thank you for such a concession.- Lavellan said, with obvious sarcasm. -Now can we stop calling the elf a fool and get on with the damn plan?-

-With pleasure.- Josephine replied, nipping Cassandra's prickly retort in the bud.

Following a few moments of perplexity, Cullen tried to open his mouth, but Lavellan was quick to turn him down. -Is there anything else on the agenda?- she asked, dryly.

Josephine shook her head. -I think that's all.- she declared.

Leliana nodded, in support.

Lavellan patted the table a couple of times, raised a hand in farewell and left the session first, without looking back.

Cassandra watched the door close behind her, open-mouthed, then turned to her colleagues, seeking an explanation.

-What had just happened?- asked Cullen, who was equally astonished.

After a moment of bewilderment, everyone's eyes turned to Leliana, certain that she was aware of something they had missed.

Instead of dissimulating with a shrug and an enigmatic smile, as she was accustomed to do, she exhaled a weary sigh. -I'll look into it.- she lied, before quitting the session in turn.

Lavellan planted the cleaver on the stump, carving a clean cut on the thigh of the fallow deer she was handling.

In the kitchens no one dared speak to her as she was butchering the animal she had hunted a few hours earlier. You could see a kilometer away that she had no intention of sharing her task, and even though none of the cooks had any expertise in elven cuts of meat, it didn’t seem ideal to correct her on a filet that was too thin, since she was armed and a deep sense of intolerance could be read in her gaze.

The head chef, who actually appreciated some extra help in handling the meat, made sure to keep the area around the stump and slaughter table clear, so that the only victim of that outburst would be the fallow deer.

With her forearms and apron covered in blood and organic matter, Lavellan finished her job on the legs, then turned to Captain Rylen, who had just entered the kitchens to deliver her a sealed message.

She shot a quick glance at him, then returned back to work. -What's the matter? Lost a bet?- she asked.

-I volunteered.- Rylen replied, moving behind her with an inspiring calmness.

Lavellan frowned. -You like risk.-

-I'm not at risk.- he corrected her, fanning himself with the message. -I'm positive you'd warn me, if I were.-

-How can you be so sure?-

Rylen shrugged. -Call it intuition.- he admitted. -And besides, I wanted to thank you in person for keeping my folks from dropping the chops over a stupid diversion.-

Lavellan ran a hand over the fallow deer's back, giving it a rest for a few moments.

Rylen took the opportunity to move a step closer. -A good leader sends his men into battle only when there's no alternative.- he said. -And if all rulers had half of your valor, many kids would shy away from learning how to use a sword.- he paused, to catch her eye. -As far as I'm concerned, the choice you made today defines you more than any skill test.-

Lavellan twitched her lips slightly, then resumed her work. -I appreciate that, Captain.- she said. -But I can't guarantee it will always work out so well for you.-

He nodded hastily. -I've been a soldier all my life, Your Worship. I know how things work.- he replied. - Just like I know that inside that council chamber there is someone besides the Commander who really cares about mine and my boys’ lives. And that gives me unimaginable relief.-

Lavellan met his gaze, then gave a single nod of assent. She took a deep breath, then returned to her work. -Don't assume you can escape your responsibilities with a few compliments, Captain. You still have to clean up the area around the Breach by tomorrow morning.- she pretended to scold him.

He puffed far too theatrically. -Aye, ma'am.- he mumbled, waving the message before tucking it safely between the flaps of Lavellan's cloak.

She waited until he was gone, before indulging in a much-needed cry.

It was a composed and silent tearing, as if it was caused by the discomfort of an external object between her eyelids.

Each tear, however, weighed on Lavellan's face like a pound of molten lead, furrowing her cheeks as it dragged with it all the nervousness she had accumulated over the past months.

She forced herself to finish the job, to blame her outburst on strong smells and fatigue, while at the same time she sought to give some peace to her head, which wouldn't cease repeating to her how childish that sudden loss of control was.

Shutting her brain up was difficult, especially when it was insisting that nothing was enough, and that she would keep banging her head endlessly against a wall that was being rebuilt with every blow, cracking her soul beyond repair.

Her thoughts were spinning in circles, like the vegetable stew that the head chef was stirring vigorously, just a few meters away.

-Delltash, this liver reeks!- commented Lavellan, trying hard to laugh. -We'll have to use seven liters of vinegar to purge it, huh?-

The head chef indulged the laugh, as she wiped her cheeks with a sharp flick of her wrist.

-I get that nobody wants to come close to me when I'm slaughtering meat.- she said, imposing the same downplaying tactic she used during council meetings, in order to regain control. She turned to the head chef, indicating herself widely. -Watch me, I look like an Antivan Crow after work!-

The entire brigade at work chuckled at that risky comparison, while a kitchen boy handed Lavellan a clean cloth to wipe her hands and face.

Despite the fact that she had no desire to joke at all, she forced herself to continue messing with the kitchen staff, reassuring them that everything was finally in place.

For the afternoon council meeting, convened by Josephine, Lavellan prepared like never before, imposing perfection on herself.

She even consulted Madame Vivienne, asking for help in choosing an elegant outfit to reiterate the concept she had expressed in the morning: she knew what she was doing, her intentions were clear and she had no intention of having a magnifying glass put on her anymore. She didn't need to and it was time for her colleagues to understand that she wasn't just a mediator, but the drive of that council.

She showed up first, on purpose, giving her colleagues a single glance and a single greeting as they arrived.

Leliana, who had reached the room last, paused to look at her with an interested expression, before taking a seat.

-I've called you all here because I was informed that...- Josephine started to say, but Lavellan interrupted her with a firm gesture.

Josephine brought her quill to her lips, shushing.

-Two things, before we begin.- Lavellan said, glancing at her colleagues. -First concerns the kitchen. I asked the head chef if he could run night shifts until the Breach is closed. He agreed, as long as he's guaranteed a larger staff.- she looked at Cullen. -The food served during the night shifts will be prepared throughout the day, so tell your officers to avoid requesting specific dishes on a last-minute basis, or they'd put the kitchens in a bind.-

Cullen instantly adopted a satisfied expression. -I'm glad you changed...-

-Second.- Lavellan interrupted him, shifting the focus to Leliana. -I refuse to allow spies and infiltrators to be used to delve into the past of everyone present. If you have a personal question to ask me, I would like to answer it myself, and I am sure everyone here feels the same way.-

Cassandra looked at her, then at Leliana, assuming an astonished expression. -Spies? You sent spies to investigate our past?-

Leliana didn't even try to deny it.

-She performed a precautionary measure.- Lavellan defended her, without exhibiting the slightest trace of emotion on her face. -I would have done exactly the same in her position, considering what’s at stake.- she said.

-No, you wouldn't have.- Leliana contradicted her, inclining her head slightly to the side. -Because it never occurred to you that you might need weapons to use against me, in case I turned out to be a different person from the one you expected.-

-Oh, I have no weapons; I have an arsenal.- Lavellan pointed out, calm as the surface of a pond on a windless day. -And if I really wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be here now.- she added. -I know where you sleep, I know your patterns, and it would take very little to convince most of the Inquisition elves that inside the council chambers there's an individual worth shaving at night.- she paused. -You wanted me to tell you this, the other night? Revealing my true nature away from the ears of the people I value the most?- she shrugged. -The first time she saw me, Cassandra threatened to kill me, blaming me for the explosion. Josephine used my language superficially, to impress me. Cullen accused me of wasting the lives of dozens of soldiers to allow me to reach the Breach. I'm used to denigration, but I'm not going to let that pass now. Oh, and before you prostrate yourselves, pull the straw tails out of your asses and apologize to the people next to you for the insults you subject them to on a daily basis, while you forget that we are all on the same side.-

Leliana passed a careful glance over her. -You're going to answer every question I ask?-

-With time.- Lavellan replied, dryly. -I know what it's like to feel cornered, and if my answers will further clarify my position, then I'm willing to make the effort.-

-No.- Cullen intervened, dumbfounded. -What she did was unfair and we all deserve an apology. Especially you.-

-I agree.- was the smallest intervention from Cassandra, who was observing Leliana with disappointment painted in her gaze.

-She did it to keep you all safe.- replied Lavellan.

-Safe from what, from you?- Cullen snorted a laugh arid of amusem*nt. -It doesn't make the slightest bit of sense.-

Leliana cleared her throat, then rested her fingers on the table, leaning over it. -You're right, Commander.- she said, for the first time since they had started working together. -You're also right, Your Worship. We're fighting on the same side, and that implies an unconditional mutual trust. In this I have failed. I have failed you.- she addressed Lavellan. -And I'm truly sorry.-

Cassandra and Josephine, who had known her for ages, let go of the reins of wrath and relaxed their facial features, as they saw her prostrate herself and cede control to another person.

Lavellan shot a decisive look at Cullen, who maintained an exemplary pout, hardly willing to yield. Faced with that plea to trust her, however, he forced himself to let go in turn.

-Can you swear, here and now, that it will never happen again?- he asked, addressing Leliana.

She retrieved the rosary she held around her neck, wrapping it around her left hand. -I swear it on the Holy Andraste, and my honour.- she declared, extending her hand.

He hesitated a moment to seek confirmation in the gazes of his colleagues, Lavellan above all. When his thoughts came to a conclusion, he shook Leliana's hand firmly.

At that, Lavellan cleared her throat. -Now that we are clear...- she said, turning in Josephine's direction. -Please, Ambassador. The floor is yours.-

Josephine, still dazed by that exchange, blinked. She looked for a note she had taken from the lectern, then hastened to report it to the group.

That change of atmosphere allowed the council to proceed quickly to a natural end, without quarrels or heated exchanges of opinion.

Lavellan welcomed this novelty with relief, rather glad that she didn't have to resort to humor to tone things down. In addition to relief, her soul was tinged with a certain smugness, as after each proposal was scrutinized her colleagues turned their gaze onto her, in search of her approval.

When it was time to wrap up, Lavellan made her way to the fireplace, retrieving the tangerine peels that she used to place near the embers to perfume the room. Since they had served their purpose, she threw them into the fire, then rubbed her hands together to clean them.

-Well, about these questions?- she asked, bringing herself beside Leliana to help her tidy up the table.

She gave her a quick glance. -It no longer matters, Your Worship. I understood the lesson.-

-There was no lesson. I was being serious.- replied Lavellan, calmly.

Leliana pondered for a long time. -I have one, for now.- she admitted. -Are you going to stay?-

The rest of the group immediately turned towards Leliana, as if a blasphemy had just escaped her lips. Lavellan frowned, giving her an equally astonished look. -As long as I breathe, of course.- she replied. -And if I ever die, I'd like you to use my skull as a candle holder. Whatever Avaar may say, skulls make bad mugs. -

Cullen hardly held back a smile, as Cassandra rolled her eyes.

Leliana, surprisingly, released a clear laugh into the room, suggesting to Lavellan that perhaps she'd made the right call.

Chapter 7: Primrose

Chapter Text

-I think there's something missing.-

Cullen turned his head sharply, distracting himself from supervising the troops.

Lavellan was standing behind him, holding a tome the size of her upper body, effortlessly. She was keeping it open, scrolling a frowning gaze over a page mottled with finely painted characters.

It almost looked like she left her quarters involuntarily, because she was too focused on her reading. In fact, she was barefoot, her hair was messily tied at the nape of her neck and her shoulders were covered by an unflattering bathrobe, open at the front. There was just a hint of make-up on her face, which failed to disguise the deep dark circles around her eyes.

Cullen took on a puzzled expression, for not only did he not hear her coming, but it seemed strange to him that she would consult him on matters unrelated to those they discussed in council.

It was also true that any mundane conversation he had with Lavellan prevented him from preparing psychologically in an adequate manner, as they had the flaw of throwing him off balance on a regular basis. However, unlike many sudden social situations Cullen was forced to face, that interactive chaos never sent his day sideways.

-What's missing?- he asked, turning straight in her direction.

Lavellan clicked her tongue, rubbing the border of the page between her fingers. -Something, clearly. To the Chant of Light.- she replied, lifting her gaze to meet his. There was an obvious note of frustration in her voice.

Cullen raised his eyebrows. -You're quite right, then. The Canticle of Shartan is missing.-

Lavellan blinked a few times, moving her head slightly forward. -The Canticle of Shartan?- she repeated. Unsatisfied, she closed the tome, to look at the coast with perplexity. -Leliana gave me an incomplete edition, basically.- she said.

-It isn't incomplete.- he corrected her, stepping closer to his interlocutor to consult the table of contents.

He scanned it briefly with his index finger, which he tapped a couple of times before reaching the indicated page. -It should be roughly between the Canticles of Exaltations and Silence.- he said, skimming the final verse of the stanza that closed the first mentioned. -You see, there is no logical closure, and a reference to a later stanza that isn’t there.-

-Why is that?-

-Because it was excised from the Chant, as well as most of the references to elves and Shartan, after the Exalted March of the Dales, in the Glory Age.- he replied, without thinking.

Lavellan tightened her lips, then exhaled a long sigh through her nose. -Shartan the Liberator. No wonder his name sounded familiar.- she whispered.

Cullen noticed a shadow of disappointment lowering on her face, so he cleared his throat. -“At Shartan's word, the sky grew black with arrows. At Our Lady's, ten thousand swords rang from their sheaths, a great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly proclaiming: those who had been slaves were now free”.- he recited, keeping his voice low. -Something remains.- he added, smiling dimly as he saw Lavellan's gaze tinged with curiosity.

-And where can I find this something?- she asked him, with a hint of excitement in her voice.

Cullen looked around circ*mspectly. -Since it's banned by the Chantry, I doubt you'll find it here.- he admitted, caressing her with a meaningful look. -And besides, it would never occur to a man of faith such as myself to tell you that what you seek is to be found in Sister Petrine's Dissonant Verses, easily purchasable at the Wonders of the Thedas, in Denerim.- he paused. -That would be a sheer incitement to heresy.-

Lavellan presented him with a smile, but immediately forced herself to pretend seriousness. -Don't worry, I would never ask you such a thing.- she replied, backing away to leave. -Sorry for bothering you.-

-Anytime.- he replied, glancing at her in amusem*nt, before turning his focus back to work.

*

Rylen pulled off the helmet to run a hand through his hair. Ser Darrow, who was standing at attention behind him, cast him a quick glance, then looked back at Cullen, who was reading a report attentively.

The three of them were lingering over a patch of rammed earth a few meters from the forge, a place that Rylen had chosen because it was quite sheltered from the wind and thus allowed them to converse without having to raise their voices too much.

-These are very low numbers.- Cullen commented, passing a look stained with dissatisfaction over his subordinates. -Captain Farris promised us twice as many.-

-We can count too, sir.- replied Rylen, equally disappointed. -Maybe he was confused by the bottle. It wouldn't be a first.-

Ser Darrow glared at her mentor, but Cullen didn't seem to take offense at his second's bluntness. -I'll write to him myself, this afternoon.-

-If your signature doesn't give him the willies, I don't know what else we could come up with.- Rylen replied. -Well, if Belinda doesn't change her mind in the meantime, of course.-

-I'm not going to spank one of my superiors, not even if the Herald herself orders me to!- Ser Darrow protested.

The shadow of a smile appeared on Rylen's face. -Speaking of Heralds...- he said, bowing his head as Lavellan walked past, headed to the forge. -Hey Worshee!-

Lavellan, quite distracted because she was untangling a ball of bow strings, raised a surprised look in his direction. -Oi Cap! You're back!- she greeted him, with a big smile.

From the corner of the eye, Rylen noticed Cullen's posture stiffen. -Next time you put me in charge of escorting nobles, how about a nice preemptive selection?-

Lavellan approached the group, gingerly. -Were they so undisciplined?-

-We're talking about nobles, milady, and Orlesians to boot.- Rylen replied, as if that was enough to define the magnitude of the matter.

Ser Darrow pulled on a laconic expression, but didn't dare to open her mouth.

-Do you need a hand? - Cullen asked, alluding to the skein of bow strings, so tangled that encompassed Lavellan's forearms at that point.

She giggled, giving up on solving the problem. -A hand.- she echoed, entertained by the fact that hers were temporarily unable to act. -Don't worry, I know you have better things to do.-

-He insists.- Rylen intervened, securing a glare from Cullen.

-Nah, today he doesn't look like one to insist.- replied Lavellan, intercepting that exchange.

-I’m just saving my strength for later.- Cullen replied, disguising his reaction with a smirk.

-You'd better keep them for something else, big boy, because I don't think we're gonna let you have it.- she teased him, stepping back to head for the forge.

-We'll see about that!- he said, then turned back to his subordinates, who were staring at him as if they had just found the meaning of life only to discover that it was a scam. -What?- he asked, puzzled.

-You're... very friendly with each other. That's new.- commented Ser Darrow, while Rylen could hardly hold back a smile.

-She was the one who asked for it.- Cullen replied, eyeing the two suspiciously.

Rylen shook his head, exhaling a sigh of resignation. -Still sticking with your idea, Bel?- he asked.

-I might make an exception in this case.- Ser Darrow answered confidently.

Cullen passed a stern look over them. -Do you do remember that I'm the one who validates your paychecks, right?-

Rylen snapped his fingers. -Back to work! Chop chop!- he exclaimed, urging Ser Darrow to follow him to the training grounds. She didn't have him repeat the order twice and hurried on in her mentor's trail.

Cullen watched them walk away with an amused expression, then paused to scan the forge, indulging in a poignant smile as he caught sight of Lavellan's cheerful expression as she was being scolded by Harritt.

*

-How old is Your Worship?-

Harding, who had just finished sharpening her hunting knife, gave Rylen an uncertain look, then turned to Cullen, who was struggling with one of the peaks of letters that created a veritable mountain range on his desk. -Do you know that, Commander?-

Cullen lifted his head just slightly from the note he was analyzing. -No, I don't.- he lied.

-It should be a matter of interest to you.- Rylen said, reaching out to help him find the light at the end of the bureaucracy.

-It's none of my business, nor is it yours.- Cullen scolded him, blocking in time a stack of communiqués that Rylen had risked crashing to the floor as he passed. -And besides, you don't ask a lady's age, Harding.-

-I'm a lady, too, in case you haven't noticed, yet I have no trouble revealing how old I am.-

Rylen shot her a skeptical look. -It doesn't count if you tell everyone a different figure.-

Harding shrugged. -That's how it works when people act rude.-

-She told me she was seventy-five.- intervened an elven mage with the ranks of a lieutenant. He wore a thick Cumberland accent, and sported a perpetually dreamy expression, framed by a shower of platinum-blond hair and accentuated by a pair of light green eyes, large, hollow and surrounded by bags full of tiredness.

-Burrows, this thing is played down. There is no way she's that old!- said Harding, confidently. After that, she paused to think about it. -To be fair, I've never seen an elf with gray hair.-

Cullen gave her an astonished look.

-Now he cares.- Rylen commented, misunderstanding the source of his commander's surprise.

Burrows chuckled, unbothered by the racist implications of his colleague's remark. -I can ask her again, if you want, but I'm afraid she's doing a more chaotic operation than Harding's. Mallory claims she's nineteen.-

-I don't think she has a problem letting people know her age, then.- Cullen intervened, flicking a smile. -Knowing her, it's probable that she just wants to mess with your heads.-

Rylen cast him a quick glance, then went back to tidying up. -Because you know her well, eh?-

-Not as well as he would like.- Harding intervened, making Rylen chuckle.

Cullen pinched the air with a dry gesture. -I'm this close to degrading you all.- he snapped.

-What does any of this have to do with me?- protested Burrows, outraged. -You're the ones speculating on a committed woman!-

He received three inquiring glances. -Committed?- Rylen asked, posing as the one who was really interested in getting answers.

Burrows clutched his staff, intimidated by that attention. -I'd say so. She spends all her free time with Lady Pentaghast. They even sleep in the same tent. Harding you know that, don't you?-

-Are you sure?- she asked, bewildered.

-Yeah, are you sure?- Rylen repeated, resting a hand on Cullen's shoulder, while the other one pretended to concentrate on correspondence.

Burrows shrugged. -Quite sure, actually. I've seen them holding hands, and Mallory says they're always attached like the hermit crab and its shell.- he affirmed. -I mean, usually I don't hold hands with my friends unless I want to...-

-Enough.- Cullen decreed, interrupting him. -Next time I hear you talk in those terms of the Herald and Seeker Pentaghast, I will degrade you for real.-

Burrows bit his lip, then nodded decisively.

-Yes, sir.- said Harding, with a puzzled air, as Cullen returned to face the bureaucratic nightmare that was his desk.

Rylen studied his expression for a long time, undecided on how to intervene. After a while, he gave up, precisely because he knew his superior well enough to understand that when he put a stop to an argument there was no way to reason with him.

As the Herald had said before, his confrere wasn't someone who liked to insist, especially on matters that touched him intimately.

*

-Blow.-

Lavellan bent over Cassandra's hand, whose fingers were holding an eyelash, then did as she was asked.

Cullen recorded that gesture in his mind even without seeing it, distracting himself for just a moment from the note he was writing underneath a report. He forced himself to regain his concentration immediately.

The five leaders stood in the open, taking advantage of a rare sunny day to exchange a quick opinion on a subject. Since it was a really short matter, they had gathered in the meager pine garden on the eastern side of the cathedral, instead of locking themselves up in the council room without reason.

-What did you wish for?- Leliana asked, as she was reading Cullen's note from over his shoulder.

Lavellan arched an eyebrow. -Did I have to make a wish?-

-Of course, Lav. Otherwise I would have just taken it off.- Cassandra replied, running a hand over the top of Lavellan's head to tidy up her hair. -Also keep in mind that wishes are not to be revealed.- she added.

Lavellan thought about it for just a moment, then a little smile formed on her lips. -For once, I know something that Nightingale doesn't.- she said, satisfied.

Leliana snapped her fingers theatrically. -Dang it!- she joked.

-Could we wrap this up?- Cullen intervened, handing the report to Josephine hurriedly. -My officers must be wondering where I am.-

-Agreed. The sooner we finish, the better.- Cassandra joined in, lowering her gaze to the paper after Josephine had passed it to Lavellan.

The latter had placed it so that they could both read it, resting a hand on her colleague's shoulder. -Sending an honor guard in attendance sounds like a good idea to me.- she said. -Even if it's only a small vigil, we should pay tribute to Teyrn Cousland's invitation appropriately.-

-There's no need for a demonstration of strength at a death vigil, Your Worship.- Josephine commented skeptically.

-It isn't a demonstration of strength, it's a response to an invitation of equal value to the hand of the one who wrote it.- retorted Lavellan, then returned the report.

-I support the Commander's idea as well.- Cassandra interjected, glancing quickly around the group.

Cullen, however, didn't look flattered at all. He just kept his back straight, waiting for the final response.

Leliana gave a brief nod of assent, then everyone waited for Josephine to confirm the plan of action. When she finally agreed as well, they all returned to their duties at their respective stations.

-Any progress with the new recruits?-

Cullen, who was moving at a brisk pace towards the training ground, barely turned towards Cassandra, who had rushed to flank him. -They're valid.- he replied, dryly.

-I thought I'd ask the Herald if she'd like to supervise the archers who just arrived from Amaranthine.- Cassandra proceeded, leading him down the stairs ahead of the gates. -They look good to me, but she has been tending bows since she was a child. Surely she can write a more accurate assessment than us.-

-Good idea.- he replied, excellently holding back a note of annoyance in his throat.

-It's an excellent idea, but the command is yours. I can't operate without your approval.- Cassandra pointed out, patting his back.

Cullen took a deep breath, then forced himself to offer her a smile. -What is it today that you are so accommodating to me?- he asked.

Cassandra looked at him with a puzzled expression. -You must be confusing me with someone else. I always approve of your motions.- she pointed out. -Are you all right, Commander?-

Cullen hesitated, then gave a weary sigh. -I got a lot of things to do, that's all.- he minimized, then headed back towards his tent, with every intention of focusing on other things.

Cassandra slowed her pace to grant him space, then stopped following him, sensing that the last thing he would have needed at that moment was her insistence.

When Cullen was sure he was alone at last, he relaxed his posture, running a hand over his forehead to shake off some frustration. Once he was calmer, he went straight into his tent to conclude the meeting with his officers, which he had paused to discuss with his colleagues.

When his duties were over, he retreated beyond the divider curtain to quickly rinse his face, lingering to massage his temples to soothe the ringing in his head that had been tormenting him since morning. When he looked up to mirror himself, he nearly flinched.

The copper plate he normally used had been replaced by a splendid oval shaped glass mirror, finely decorated on the borders. Seeing his face portrayed with an accuracy to which he had become unaccustomed made Cullen's eyes widen in surprise.

He caressed the frame with his fingertips, tracing it from the top, where the outlines of two mabari heads were carved, to the bottom, following the contours of King Calenhad the Great's coat of arms. There he found the handkerchief he had lent Lavellan, cleaned and ironed, on which a paper note folded in two had been placed.

He hastened to open it.

-"I think it might be as useful to you like the book you advised me not to find was to me."- he recited, in a whisper. He found himself smiling, instinctively, but it was short-lived.

Cullen folded the note carefully, smoothing the crease with his thumb. He stared at it with an immense confusion in his gaze, undecided whether to treat it like an ordinary piece of paper and present it to the stove, or keep it as a memento.

In reality, he had no idea why a petty rumor about his colleagues' private lives was upsetting him in such a way, since he knew little about Lavellan outside professional matters. Moreover, he deeply respected Cassandra. If a beautiful sentiment had developed between them, there was no reason to feel the corrosive sense of betrayal that he was experiencing at that moment.

Appalled by his subconscious, he decided to forcibly put common sense back into his head, bottling up his emotions to concentrate on his work. He sailed like a frigate through the afternoon until the darkness of night surprised him.

It was then that, unable to sleep due to exhaustion from the overload of responsibility he had imposed on himself, he decided to take a short walk outside in the cold to relax.

As soon as he reached the training ground, however, he again found himself coming to terms with the sense of betrayal he had been trying so hard to suppress all afternoon.

It exploded between his hands, hurting him irreparably.

Lavellan was leaning in front of a row of dummies, gathering up the arrows that had missed target in her quiver. Not far from her, Cassandra was waiting patiently, holding her cloak under the arm. They were talking about something excessively amusing for the former, but quite frustrating for the latter, who was scolding her in a far too permissive manner.

For Cullen, that mundanity was more painful than an injury.

-Aren't you going to do anything at all?-

Cullen turned towards Rylen, who reached him a few moments before. -About what?- he asked, playing dumb.

Rylen gave him an eloquent look. -Come on, it's so obvious that you're into her! You just have to tell her.-

-And ruin two friendships in a single blow for something I'm not even too sure about?- Cullen said, running a hand down the back of his neck exhaustedly.

Rylen patted him on the arm, to draw his attention. -Look, we're all rooting for you in the barracks. You can't leave us in the cold.- he encouraged him. -Ask Lysette. She even bet on it!-

-I hope she didn't bet something valuable.- he said, shifting his gaze towards the subjects of the conversation. Cassandra was adjusting the cloak on Lavellan's shoulders, lovingly. -I'm going to act like it's another delusion stemming from lyrium deprivation. A nice interlude between obligations, which I'll shake off when the time comes.-

Rylen rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it just a little. -How can I help you?-

-By stopping to speculate on already committed women, as Burrows would say.- Cullen replied plain and simple, as he returned the way he came from.

*

Taking bets on the number of stanzas of the Chant that Cullen would hear, before being attacked by a messenger, had become Threnn and Leliana's favorite pastime.

The latter always managed to come dangerously close to the actual figures, winning hands down. Threnn, like the good textbook Fereldian she was, however, continued to raise the stakes, stubbornly persistent in playing a game she would never win.

-How much do you owe her now?- asked Varric, who, as a favor to Lavellan, was delivering a crate of ointments to the requisitions table.

Threnn watched Cullen walk away from the cathedral at the side of a scout, following him with a grim look. -Two gold Sovereigns.- she said, her voice laced with disappointment.

-Two gold Sovereigns and five coppers.- Leliana specified, approaching the duo with a satisfied expression. -Would you like to join the game, Master Tethras?-

Varric snorted a laugh. -No f*cking way! If I gambled with you, I would lose my house, and I still have to win it back from the Bull.-

-If you really want an easy win, you can try down at the soldiers camp. I heard Lysette's on the verge of losing her horse.- Threnn suggested, quickly checking the load note associated with the crate Varric had brought, before rummaging through the coin pouch.

-What are they betting for?- he asked, turning a mischievous smile towards Leliana, who was ready to cash in.

-I shouldn't tell you, but I suppose Sister Nightingale already knows everything about it.- Threnn replied, once she had handed her gambling partner the arranged sum. -It is rumored that the Herald and the Seeker are having an affair.-

Varric burst out laughing loudly, while Leliana gave her a humored look.

-Where did this come from?- Varric groaned, holding his stomach.

-I have no idea, really, but if it keeps morale up, gossip is welcomed.- Leliana acknowledged. -As long as it's restricted to cheer, I'm fine with it.-

-Even if it is at your colleague's expense?-

-Colleagues.- Leliana specified. -We are all in this together, including me. Cassandra is the first on that list simply because they spend more time together.-

-Who would you bet on, Dwarf?- Threnn asked, looking like she was taking mental notes.

Varric, catching the hint, put his thumb and forefinger together, running them over his lips.

Leliana giggled, then nodded in greeting to Rylen, who was handing her a message.

-Oh, come on! Give me a tip at least!- Threnn protested. -Ser Rylen, for whom did you bet?-

-I'm not dying to bet on something so personal. Unlike you, I respect these people.- he replied, with a veiled hint of reproach.

Varric noticed a bizarre tinge of melancholy in the newcomer's gaze as he firmly maintained his reluctance to participate in the joke. He studied him for a long time, his arms crossed over his chest, then sighed. -All right, I'll give you a clue.- he said.

-That's not fair, Master Tethras.- Leliana intervened, folding Rylen's message to add a note on the back.

-Yes, it is.- he said, chasing away that rebuke by waving his hand. He waited a few seconds, to emphasize the revelation, then turned directly to Rylen. -The Herald is as straight as a plank of wood squeezed in a press.- he stated.

-sh*t!- Threnn exclaimed, clapping a hand on the requisition table in despondency. -Are you sure?-

Varric shrugged, shoving both hands into his pockets. -Pretty sure.- he replied.

Rylen's piercing gaze fixed itself on his face. -How can you be so confident? It might be like that story about her age changing depending on who asks for it.-

Leliana moved a step towards him, forcing eye contact. -She's the same age as him, she definitely likes men, and I promise if you don't hurry up and tell him I'll put you on escort to Comtesse Rivière for a month.- she replied, placing the message in his hands with a categorical expression.

Rylen nodded decisively. -Aye ma'am!- he exclaimed, retrieving the message on the fly and then moving towards the training grounds like he had wings on his feet.

Varric shot Leliana an amused look. -That's not fair, Nightingale.- he said without giving the impression that he really believed it.

-Yes, it is.- she replied, giving him a smile tainted with smugness.

*

-Any updates?- Lavellan asked, addressing an exceptional council, which was again called outside the cathedral. This time, however, it was held at night.

Josephine retrieved a paper from the lectern. -A message written in his own hand by Teyrn Cousland.- she said, handing it to Lavellan.

She read it carefully, then gave a sigh of relief. -When you're involved, one never knows.- she justified herself, intercepting Cullen's displeased expression.

-Because you're a woman of little faith.- he complained, with a slight undertone of satisfaction in his voice.

-I have good reasons.- Lavellan replied, returning the message to Josephine. -If you can, maintain contact with him, alright?-

The other nodded. -Consider it done.-

Cassandra yawned audibly, covering her face with a whole hand. -Anything else we need to discuss?- she mumbled.

-I guess that's it.- Leliana declared, lacing hands behind her back. -We can deal with less pressing matters in the morning.-

Josephine directed a smile at each member of the council. -Good night, then.- she said, moving first to the inside of the cathedral.

-Can I borrow you for a minute?- Cullen murmured to Lavellan, who was about to leave as well.

She smiled at him. -You can have two.- she replied, leading him across the courtyard.

Cassandra followed them with her eyes until they disappeared from her field of vision, then turned to Leliana. -Did he get there on his own, or is it your doing?-

Leliana gave her a look drenched in tenderness. -He was ready to step aside because of the friendship that binds you.-

Cassandra exhaled a verse of annoyance. -He could have just asked me! It took the wicked Dwarf of the north to make me realize what was wrong.- she rolled her eyes. -As if we were in our teens!-

Leliana giggled. -Love always turns people into little kids.-

-I found it inside a burning building near the Crossroads, that's why its backside is a little scorched.- Lavellan explained, rubbing her hands together to ward off the cold.

Cullen preceded her down the stairs, then stretched out a hand to prevent her from stepping on a pile of snow that had clustered at the base of the steps. Lavellan observed that gesture with a confused air, but decided to indulge him anyway.

She placed her fingers on his palm, leapt over the obstacle with a funny hop, and landed at his side with a smile.

-So, you stole it.- he suggested, releasing her immediately from his grasp.

-I thought the charred corpse at the entrance didn't need it anymore.- she replied, hugging herself within the cloak. -We usually put those items in a crate and use the proceeds of the unclaimed ones to improve the situation of the refugees at the Crossroads.-

-A mirror so beautiful must be worth a lot. You should have sold it rather than give it to me.-

Lavellan stepped in front of him, preventing him from moving on. -So, I screwed up.- she said, frowning. -I thought that, since we spend so much time arguing and interrupting each other in council, it would have been nice to show you that I... appreciate you, even if we share different ideas.- she rubbed her hands together again, this time to disperse the tension. -It was actually a way of thanking you as well, since you’re always very helpful towards me.- she paused. -I'm sorry. I didn't mean to trouble you.-

Cullen exhaled a weary sigh. -The last thing I want is to look ungrateful to you.- he apologized. -I love the mirror, fondly, and I'm very grateful for the thought behind it.- he gave her half a smile. -I haven't been able to look myself in the face for months.-

Lavellan relaxed her posture, offering him a smile tinged with relief. -You're not used to gifts, are you?-

-Templars are not allowed to keep material possessions, outside of faith and armor, which in reality is not even ours, since we are forced to return it at the end of our mandate.- he explained. -The gifts we are given are more symbolic in nature. Sometimes it's an offering to the Chantry, or to the Circle in which we serve. Other times it's an act of hospitality towards us, like a hot meal and a bed when we are on the trail of an apostate.- he continued, recognizing a spark of curiosity in Lavellan's gaze. -Between confreres it was more an exchange of favors. If someone's robe creased, we helped them sew it back on, or covered their shift in case they were too fatigued to handle it.-

-We have one more thing in common, then!- she intervened. -We do keep things for ourselves, of course, but if something benefits the clan, it's good to make it available to everyone. Josephine says it's something that you do as a family.-

-In some ways, the Order was my family.- replied Cullen. -And so was the clan to you.-

Lavellan laughed. -If you put it that way, it seems like we ran away from home.- she joked, resuming her walk.

-Technically, we did.- he conceded, with an amused air. He stretched out his arms, to show her the armor.

-You didn't give it back, then!- she said, running her fingertips over the flaming sword engraved on his arm guard.

-I kept something, but I left everything else behind.- Cullen replied, following the movement of her fingers with his eyes. -Like you, I assume.-

Lavellan looked up at him. -I bet you spend all night pulling your hair out at the thought of finally yielding to vanity as well.-

He ran a hand over his head, straightening his thick hair with a telling gesture. She burst out laughing, clinging briefly to his arm. -The epitome of despondency!-

They reached the door of Lavellan's quarters, stopping by the threshold. A long glance was exchanged, then Lavellan lifted a hand in his direction, letting it fall immediately to her side, in a movement that denoted embarrassment. -Right on schedule.- she announced.

He, however, shifted his gaze elsewhere, resting it on an elfroot bush. -I don't mean to hold you up any longer than I should, but curiosity is consuming me from the inside.- he said.

Lavellan raised her eyebrows, whereupon Cullen hastened to elaborate. -Every so often you question me about the Chantry and I try to answer you to the best of my ability. Why don't you ask Cassandra, or Mother Giselle, those same things instead? They have a much greater knowledge of faith than I do.-

-You dislike that I consult you?-

-No, not at all. I'm just worried that I won't be able to give you the answers you're looking for.-

Lavellan studied his face carefully, then she addressed the inadequacy she found in it with a comforting smile. -You optimize.-

Cullen tilted his head slightly, puzzled.

-If I asked you what color the sky is, Mother Giselle would quote the Chant before giving me an answer I could rely on. Cassandra would tell me that it's pink in the morning, blue in the afternoon and red in the evening. You, on the other hand, would show it to me.- she shrugged. -You optimize.-

-It's not always a good thing when it comes to religion. Scholars spend their lives trying to interpret the Chant of Light, I'm lucky if I can even hear a verse of it lately.-

-Yes, but they also spend all their spare time insisting that purging the unbelievers is a justifiable act.- Lavellan replied, with a note of annoyance in her voice. -And yet, it wasn't us who burned Andraste at the stake. Why should your Maker punish us for something we didn't commit?-

Cullen ran an undecided glance across her face. -I really can't answer that.- he admitted.

-That wasn't a question.-

-But you care to discuss it.-

-Discuss it? No, there's no point in arguing about something we can't agree on.-

-Do you think that the fact that we have different beliefs might prevent us from agreeing on something?-

-On religion, evidently. We believe in two things diametrically opposed.-

Cullen frowned. -Indulge me. Why would the Maker's bride send an elf to save us, instead of a Human?-

-I'm not a savior, nor anyone's chosen one, Cullen.- she answered decisively. -I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Luckily, I happen to be someone with a head on her shoulders.-

-There is no such thing as chance. I think your presence here is a demonstration of how the doctrine practiced by many of Her faithful is fallacious. They erased the existence of one of Her most loyal followers to justify a political stance, remember?-

-So, I'm here on behalf of Andraste to tell those faithful that they're wrong?-

-Of course they're wrong! Perhaps, now that Our Lady has chosen a champion of your people to represent her, they'll realize it.-

-At the moment, I fear the only thing they realize is that there's a heretic meddling in their businesses, surrounded by lunatics.-

Cullen shrugged. -Where's the lie?-

Lavellan couldn't hold back a smile, which he returned.

-I'm sad that you think we'll never be able to find common ground on this. It would be important for me.- Cullen admitted.

-Me too. If we didn't have such different beliefs, it would be easier to meet halfway.-

-Yes, but one thing does not exclude the other.-

Lavellan retracted her head just a little, perplexed. -Excuse me?-

-Maker's existence doesn’t exclude the presence of the Gods.- he elaborated. -As He exists for me, They exist for you.-

-But you don't believe in them.-

-Just like you don't believe in Him, but you never delegitimize my faith. It seems fair to me to do the same.- he opened one hand in her direction. -Believing in something and admitting its existence are two different things, after all.-

Lavellan proceeded to stare at him with an intrigued smile, then snorted a laugh, covering her mouth immediately as she turned her head away. -Fen'Harel ar ghilana.- she muttered. -So much for encouraging heresy!-

-You said it yourself that I am an optimizer.- he protested, looking at her with an amused expression.

-That's not optimizing, Cullen.- she said, almost as if she was scolding him. -If you wanted to do that, you would have just thanked me for the mirror.-

-But then I wouldn't have known how you see the sky.- he replied, giving her a charming smile.

Lavellan lingered on the door handle for a fair amount of time, unable to take her eyes off him. -I guess.- she whispered, then forced herself to look away. -Goodnight, Commander.- she concluded, with a hint of awkwardness in her vocal chords.

-Good...- Cullen paused, for he had just given an identity to something he glimpsed in the foliage. He moved towards the elfroot bush and bent over it.

Lavellan watched him rummage through the plants with interest. When he returned, he gently handed her a small flower with white petals, slightly stained red in the center. -Given that you worship irony, perhaps you'll find hilarious that the only Andraste's Grace in Haven has sprung up right in front of your doorstep.-

Lavellan scooped the flower between her fingers, stroking the stem looking absorbed. -Yes, it's just as ironic that it grew besides elfroot. But elfroot grows inside caves too, so that's kind of beside the point.-

Cullen laced his hands behind his back, giving her a smile that would make a monolith blush. -Goodnight, Lavellan.- he said, walking away.

She raised her eyebrows upon a look stained with surprise at hearing that he had stopped calling her by titles. She found herself laughing to herself as she buried her nose between the petals, finding exhilarating the contrast between a truly gallant gesture and the ineptitude of mistaking an ordinary primrose for an Andraste's Grace.

Chapter 8: Beyond

Chapter Text

The prospect that within three days the Breach that wound the sky would be permanently patched up brought a fair amount of tension.

Lavellan was eager to finish the job, but at the same time she knew that after having fulfilled her purpose the road she was walking on would not alter its slope.

Therefore Madame Vivienne, with whom she consulted regularly, had suggested that it was important for her to become indispensable so that she would continue to keep a firm grip on the reins of the leadership without being questioned. Josephine, who was an equally astute woman despite being much younger than the Enchantress, not only agreed with that idea but made sure that her colleague would always have something to study in order to catch up with the other members of the Inquisition.

Lavellan, rightfully so, relied on their suggestions without questioning.

In fact, she decided to put twice as much effort into subjects that she had never delved into until joining the Inquisition, advancing with determination.

When she stopped studying religion, human customs, and politics, she would spend time in the woods surrounding Haven, where Solas would help her decipher the signals the Anchor sent her and, at the same time, would allow her to prepare for the closing of the Breach. She would also take advantage of the lack of interactions during the night to lock herself in her quarters to work on traps, mines, and alchemical formulas, since in addition to being something that concretely helped her unwind, it also helped her achieve discrete advantages even in the tactical field.

She wasn't a particularly quick learner, but what she lacked mentally she made up for in perseverance. A perseverance bordering on neurosis.

Luck would have it that Lavellan, in addition to possessing an aptitude for self-sacrifice, was a hyperactive woman, cerebrally and physically, with a short and light sleep. In the daily routine of her clan, this peculiarity, which could be considered as a flaw, forced her to focus solely on hunting and defense because it was a circ*mscribed ecosystem. In the Inquisition, which required much more dynamic management skills, hyperactivity had become a basic prerequisite to be required at job interviews, so she didn’t struggle too much to adapt, limiting herself to amplifying what she already had in excess.

-If you put anything else in your head you'll explode.- Varric, who was helping her sharpen some caltrops at the forge after dinner, mocked her. -I'd suggest you get a hobby, but you'd be able to turn even that into a job.-

-Like Donnen Brennokovic and bottled ships?- asked Lavellan.

Varric looked at her pointedly. -The fact that, with all the stuff you have to do, you even found time to read my books is worrying.- he said, placing the last caltrop on the work surface. -I'm pleased, of course, but you could have done without it.-

Lavellan stacked the items to slip them inside a messenger bag, directing a smirk at Varric. -I'm pleased to have read them, too. They're like a breath of fresh air compared to the human fiction I'm usually exposed to.- she admitted. -That stuff is redundant and pompous, crammed with hyperbolic references to the Chantry and-

-And the rest is straight up p*rn.- Sera completed, while slaloming between the smiths and apprentices while holding a strange box adorned with a disproportionate bow. She reached her teammates agilely, pushing the gift under her arm to give them both an amused look. -What's up idiots?-

-Who's that for?- Lavellan asked, tightening her eyelids in an inquisitive gaze.

-The real question is: do you really want to know?- replied Varric, leading them towards the exit.

Sera emitted a hysterical laugh, trotting after him. -She'll find out in the morning anyway.- she announced, receiving a dissatisfied groan from Lavellan in response.

-Curly's caricature on the side of that trebuchet with horns and rotten teeth was cute, I must admit.- said Varric, hugging himself in his coat to fend off a gust of icy wind.

-The lookout thinks otherwise.- protested Sera, winking at Lavellan.

-The lookout is simply upset because she was left distracting the guards for a solid half an hour in the cold, while you were dealing with the art block.- she replied, patting her interlocutor on the arm.

-Fine art takes time.- Sera justified herself, passing the gift from hand to hand as if it were a ball. -Shall we play a couple of rounds of Grace?-

Varric nodded decisively, giving her an eloquent look. -Even a dozen! I promised Sparkler a rematch.- he admitted, resuming his walk towards the gates. -He's hopeless.-

-Good! More silver for us!- exclaimed Sera, anticipating him and starting to walk backwards. -What about you, hotshot? Wanna come and buy us a beer?-

Lavellan shook her head. -Sorry, guys. I have to do hotshot stuff, precisely.- she replied. -And besides, you know damn well I don't drink.-

Varric shrugged, not surprised in the slightest. -Of course.- he mumbled.

-Watch out, tho. If you spend all that time with the most boring people in the world, you're gonna catch depressitis.- Sera mocked her.

Varric exhaled a guttural laugh. -Better catching depressitis than arsefaceitis.-

-Aw, sh*t! Where do you get that? Who gives it to you?- asked Sera, risking a stumble.

Lavellan caught her in time, turning her around to push her to walk decently.

-You can get it a little everywhere, but especially in Orlais.- replied Varric, laboriously climbing the steps made of stone that preceded the gates.

-There’s a real epidemic among nobility.- intervened Lavellan, giving him a helping hand in pretending an exemplary seriousness. -Bad thing is there's no antidote. Your face is going to look like the lost twin of your arse for the rest of your life. You’ve seen Chancellor Roderick, right? The poor thing.-

Varric chuckled. -That’s a prime example of it.-

Sera looked at her companions one by one, with a bewildered air. -Man, that sounds pretty serious. It's not funny anymore!- she complained.

Lavellan ran a hand over her head, playfully ruffling her hair.

They reached one of the bonfires that had been erected within the perimeter of the stronghold, to regain some warmth before parting. Sera continued to play with the pack, turning around as if she were looking for someone, or something.

-You sure you don't even want to stop by to say hello?-

Lavellan, who had been distracted for a moment, gave Varric a confused expression. -Can you repeat?-

He reached the target of her gaze, spotting what he considered to be the personification of boredom, and emitted a subdued -Oh.-, accompanying it with a sly smile.

-So that “hotshot business” talk was some sort of naughty analogy!- joked Sera, elbowing Lavellan in the stomach as she came to the same conclusion as Varric. Lavellan glared at the both of them, dumbfounded. -You don't need alcohol, you're already past hangover!- she grumbled, massaging her injured area.

-I wasn't judging you. Everyone has their own taste.- Varric commented, pretending indifference. -Maybe underneath all those layers of trauma, stakhanovism and hair products there's a nice something and not a sad and emotionally constipated man.-

Sera cast him a meaningful glance. -Waaaay underneath, man! In the undergrowth of the lowlands. In a submerged cave under a mine in the undergrowth of the lowlands.-

Lavellan huffed, running a hand over her throat, nervously. -Am I still in time to tell you I was looking at a fir tree's ass?-

-Ah, don't worry! - Varric reassured her, clapping a hand on her back. -Nothing that can't be solved with a cold one and a game of Wicked Grace surrounded by your besties.-

-What is it, the solution to all the world's ills?- asked Sera, laughing.

-No, but it's a good diversion to forget them.- Varric pointed out, motioning for the two to follow him. -Come on, Handy, the hotshot business can wait.-

Lavellan watched him walk away, a contrite grimace distorting her face, then exhaled a sigh of resignation and went along with him.

*

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but Haven was already vigil. It could be said that it hadn't slept at all, just like Lavellan, who had pulled an all-nighter to go over the last details with Cassandra before the closing of the Breach, which would happen the next day.

Once they had exited the chantry, they realised that it was already morning and decided, reluctantly, to stay awake instead of getting little to no sleep.

Cassandra reacted to the freezing air outside with a gasp of intolerance. -I need a hot bath and a glass of wine.- she confessed, stretching her arms vigorously.

-A hot bath in wine?- muttered Lavellan, hopping on the spot to reactivate the blood flow.

Cassandra gave a hoarse laugh. -An abominable suggestion.- she stated. -I'm going to jog to the Temple to wake myself up. Are you coming with me, Lav?-

Lavellan clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, displeased. -I'd love to, but I have to check out the traps.- she complained. -I told Varric I'd bring some rabbits.-

-Right, the banquet! At what time is it, by the way?-

Lavellan's gaze brightened with enthusiasm. -I thought you didn't want to come!-

Cassandra rolled her eyes. -Forget I asked.- she said, walking past the other on her way to the temple.

-After the evening reading, anyway!- Lavellan exclaimed, happily. She observed Cassandra increase her pace until she was out of sight, then exhaled a dreamy sigh, hugging herself in her cloak.

Finding a relationship of mutual respect with Cassandra was the last thing she would have expected to come out of that experience, given their history. Yet, the more time passed, the more she found herself thanking the Creators for that friendship, not so much for the mutual support they provided each other, but for the willingness of the both of them to challenge themselves to help the world heal in the best way possible.

Delighted that the cold contributed to help her wake up, Lavellan retrieved bow and arrows and strolled cheerfully to the stables. Although she would have given an arm to spend the morning teasing Cassandra, the idea of returning to the woods and spending some time alone comforted her adequately.

She retrieved the reins of the steed that had been with her since she made contact with the horsemaster in the Hinterlands and led him outside, murmuring a prayer to Andruil. If the hunt was lucky, she would leave a prey in the woods for Her messengers, as per tradition.

As she walked the road that ran parallel to the training camp, she glanced in the direction of one of the campfires that the instructors used to debrief before the wake-up bell rang. She wasn't surprised to find it lit, just as she wasn't surprised to find Cullen up, conversing with his second in command and one of the senior army officers.

Lavellan waved a hand in greeting in their direction, out of courtesy, and the three of them motioned her to approach. Captain Rylen welcomed her with a hasty nod then placed a cup of freshly brewed tea in her hands gracefully.

After she accepted that kindness, she passed an interested glance over his armour. -Why are you shining?-

Rylen, whose arms were sparkling in the light of the campfire as if inlaid with quartz crystals, glanced at her pointedly, making her guess that he had been the victim of a prank. Knowing full well who the perpetrator was, given the presence of a familiar package that was being used as fuel for the fire, the two simply exchanged a look of understanding.

-Isn't it a bit too early for a horseback ride?- he asked, stepping aside to ease her into place by the fire.

Lavellan took a sip of tea, clenching her eyelids because of its bitterness. -Definitely. I'm going on a hunt, in fact.-

-With this dreich cold, the only thing alive in the woods are the leaves blowing in the wind.- the veteran intervened.

-Are you from Starkhaven too, sir?- Lavellan asked, recognising the chanting, rotacised accent.

-Brewed, raised and aged there.- replied the other, raising his cup of tea in a toast before placing the mug on the ground. He was a robust gentleman in his sixties, with a basket of salt and pepper curls on his head and a pair of small, clear eyes full of vitality. -Your clan settled briefly in the outskirts of my village, several years ago. Good people.-

-Thank you, even if yours is an unpopular opinion.- Lavellan commented, shifting her gaze to Cullen, who still hadn't opened his mouth, limiting himself to sipping his tea with an exhausted air. -We had to move almost immediately, to avoid... nuisances.- she paused. -We were said nuisances.- she admitted, lowering her voice.

-Eh, prejudices are hard to uproot.- Rylen added, stroking his chin with a quick gesture. -So, about this offer?-

Lavellan retracted her head slightly, giving him a doubtful look.

-The offer to Andruil.- her interlocutor clarified. -Did I say it right?-

-We called you here for that.- admitted the veteran, resting his hands on the hips. -The other hunters refuse to leave if they haven't done it first.-

Lavellan paused to observe everyone for an instant. -Do you really want me to strip completely naked to dance around the fire, hooting in the moonlight under the influence of psychotropic mushrooms?- she stopped. -With this cold?-

There was a moment of deep, embarrassed silence, to which Lavellan responded with a resounding laugh. -Don't worry, really, there is no danger. The only bare thing you'll ever see of my person is the face.- she reassured them, resting a hand on the back of Rylen, who was looking at her as if she had just pulled his intestines down to his ankles.

-What are they doing all that time in front of the fire, whispering and burning elfroot, then?- muttered Cullen, who appeared to be doing everything he could to avoid bursting out laughing as well.

Lavellan pondered for a few moments, taking the opportunity to warm her throat with tea. -I think they want to purify the area around the bonfire from demons and evil spirits, as a sign of gratitude for welcoming them and treating them well.- she explained. -So, even though they are far away, the camp is safe.-

-What did I say? Good people.- the veteran reiterated, pointing her emphatically to his superiors.

-Why lie, then?- Rylen asked, casting a grim glance at the fire. -I hope it wasn't to make me look slimy in front of the Herald.-

-For fear of being misunderstood, I suppose.- Cullen speculated, stroking a hand wearily behind his neck. -Reciting a purification rite in the presence of Templars and bragging about it is not a smart move, even if it's something harmless.-

Lavellan nodded. -It's a token tradition, linked to the cult of Mythal. Magic has nothing to do with it.- she specified, placing the empty cup in the hands of Rylen, who continued to display an annoyed expression. -Anyway, will I see you all at the banquet tonight?-

Rylen and the veteran shifted a resigned gaze to Cullen. He reciprocated with a glare, then cleared his throat. -Unfortunately...- he began.

-Slap him, tie him up like a sausage and drag him along.- Lavellan interrupted him, addressing his second-in-command directly. Rylen gave her an eloquent look. -You make it sound easy. This one's stubborn.- he blurted out, pointing at him with a broad nod of his arm.

-Seriously, I can't break free. Not now that we are so close to the finish line.- Cullen decreed, in distress. -We are still behind schedule with preparations and we need everything to be laid out perfectly for tomorrow.-

-Even Leliana managed to find the time!- complained Lavellan, unable to suppress a note of reproach in her voice.

Cullen shook his head. -I'm sorry, I can't afford to let go.- he declared.

Lavellan paused to stare at him, trying to find a way to change his mind. Noticing that he seemed genuinely saddened as well, she forced herself to leave it at that and nodded. -Thanks for the drink.- she said, turning a quick smile to everyone present.

-Of course, Your Worship!- the veteran replied, bowing his head in a sign of respect.

-Worshee.- Rylen greeted her, continuing to look at his superior officer with a profoundly disappointed air.

Lavellan patted the horse's muzzle and mounted the saddle, spurring the beast into a trot to reach the edge of the woods and get away from the conversation as quickly as possible. When she was surrounded by nothing but trees and silence, she exhaled a long, tired breath and closed her eyes.

She dismounted and tied the horse, following a rough path too narrow and dangerous for the beast to safely tackle.

As she proceeded, she felt Cullen's rejection weighing on her soul, as if it were a personal matter rather than an eventuality beyond his control. Fortunately, the left side of her brain was kind enough to take the lead, prompting her to blame her overreaction on exhaustion. In fact, after shaking off an unnecessary annoyance, she forced herself to concentrate on the hunt.

Lavellan checked the first trap carefully, finding it empty. Although it was a more than normal occurrence, given the weather conditions, this event had the consequence of bringing to light the nervousness she was struggling to suppress.

She took a deep breath to recompose herself, then headed for the second trap, not far away.

Suddenly, she perceived a flutter of wings above her head and froze.

To prevent the nocturnal creatures from realising of her presence, she carefully shifted her gaze in the direction of the noise, identifying the silhouette of a nocturnal bird of prey among the bony branches of a fir tree.

The dim light of the hour before dawn showed Lavellan a bundle of snow-white feathers, equipped with small, black eyes and a thin, sharp beak embedded in a flat face. That apparition made her realise immediately why that area of the forest was scarce in rodents, and at the same time, it cleared her mind of disappointment, reminding her of her role in the story.

Without taking her eyes off the barn owl, she moved cautiously towards the trap and bent down to check it. There, she found it full and was surprised.

She released the carcass of a mountain hare and tossed it at the foot of the tree that Andruil's messenger had chosen to nest in, then turned away to return to her horse, with a lighter heart.

She remained focused on the hunt until the sun showed up, satisfied to find most of the traps set, and full, and good venison to supplement the rabbit meat. Once she had completed her mission, she decided to watch the sun rise from a clearing before an overhang, which offered a full view of Haven and the frozen lake that embraced it. She lit a small fire and leaned her back against the remains of a tree struck by lightning, to rest her legs and enjoy the view.

It was shaping up to be a beautiful, cloudless day. The Breach stained the sky with a cold light, in stark contrast to the warmth of the sun, which was lazily rising behind the Frostback Mountains, outlining their contours with gleaming precision.

Lavellan huddled herself in her cloak, closing her eyes to enjoy the warmth and silence, glad to find some peace from the hustle and bustle of the stronghold.

She dozed for several minutes, until her ears caught a pattering coming from the trail, forcing her to become vigilant again. She quickly retrieved her bow and instinctively nocked an arrow, trying to locate the source of the noise.

She pulled the string, carefully scanning the place where she had tied the horse, taking long breaths to prevent her body from going into a state of rigidity. She knew she wasn't the only one hunting in that area and knew personally many of those who frequent it, but one could never be too careful.

Upon recognising the silhouette of the stranger, who was leading his horse on foot, Lavellan adopted a surprised expression. She relaxed her right arm, while still keeping her arrow hooked, then left the clearing to meet the newcomer.

Cullen gave his steed a vigorous caress on the neck, then turned a scornful glance at Lavellan, who was looking at him questioningly. He pointed to the back of the horse with a sharp nod, where the carcass of an adult male boar was laid out, then rested his hands on the hips. -I had to make up for tonight.- he said, puffing out his chest. -Nothing better than the king of the woods to fill a disappointed stomach, right?-

Lavellan opened her mouth to respond, frowning over an expression drenched in hesitancy, but then limited herself to exhaling her frustration through a dry sigh.

Cullen immediately downsized his ego, still retaining a hint of conceit. -I was planning to spend the morning overseeing training, which is the only thing I can delegate.- he explained. -If this isn't enough to grant me forgiveness, I can come up with something else on the way back.-

Lavellan relaxed her features, tilting her head to the side. -When did you put him down?- she asked, with a hint of surrender in her voice.

Cullen furrowed his brow, uncertain. -Earlier.- he answered her.

-Be specific.-

-Half an hour ago...?-

Lavellan placed bow and arrows on a rock beside her horse, then slipped off her cloak and jacket, placing them on the beast's back. She quietly took off her gloves, then tucked them into her belt, giving her interlocutor an amused look. -How did you manage to find an adult boar in the middle of winter and put it down without ending up like a colander?-

Cullen shrugged, faking modesty as he watched her roll her sleeves up to the elbows. -I'm good with the spear.- he replied.

-I had no idea that the Circle teaches its Templars how to hunt with a spear.- she poked him, untying the boar to drag it to the ground. -They must have also taught you that venison should be gutted within an hour after being killed, I presume.-

Cullen cleared his throat, then rushed over to help her move the boar. -Yep.- he confirmed, with an almost imperceptible note of doubt in his tone.

-So, I guess that you wanted to leave this task up to me because of my experience with the knife, not out of ignorance.-

Cullen snorted. -You're impossible to please, Lavellan!- he said, annoyed.

-Did you do it to please me, or to impress me?-

-Both, but actually...- he smirked. -I wanted to indulge my pride, for once.-

Lavellan twirled the hunting knife between her fingers, assuming a stricken expression. -I didn't picture you as a competitive person.- she admitted, squaring him from head to toe. -Did you really think you could beat me?-

Cullen raised his eyebrows, indicating the basket of game hanging from the side of her horse. -Adorable bunnies.- he said, then opened one hand towards his prey. -King of the forest. Do the math.-

-I put down a dragon just last week.- interjected Lavellan, genuinely intrigued by that co*cky attitude.

-And you did it all by yourself, I suppose. Wasn't Cassandra there to distract him, in the first lines?-

Lavellan knelt in front of the boar, laughing. -Step back, Ser Braggington, or you'll get messier than your ego.- she warned him.

However, Cullen crouched down beside her, at the summit of his presumption. -I prefer to oversee. You know, to prevent you from ruining it for me because you don't have a steady hand.-

Lavellan sighed theatrically, then shrugged. -Fair enough, but don't say I didn't warn you.-

Without trying to conceal her amusem*nt, Lavellan approached Cullen, passing her gaze over him. -I warned you.- she nudged him, for the third time in less than half an hour.

Cullen, who looked as if he had just emerged from a battle against a flock of water balloons filled with rotten fruit, gave her a patibular look.

She raised her hands in surrender, laughing. -All right, I'll stop.-

They were returning to Haven, carrying the horses by hand because the snow was too high, they had a heavy load and the terrain was hazardous for the beasts' ankles.

So far it had been a quiet and fairly peaceful journey, accompanied by the typical musicality of the winter forest in the early hours of the morning.

-I'm just saying- Lavellan started, advancing first towards a large clearing filled with cedars. -That if you're going to show off, then you should make sure you can win. That way there isn't...-

Her head snapped forward in response to the impact of the back of her head with something cold and firm, preventing her from finishing her sentence.

Lavellan ran a hand over her hair and looked up, thinking that something had fallen, as her brain refused to suggest that she was the victim of a childish vendetta. When she turned to Cullen for an explanation, she was answered by being hit right in the face by a second snowball.

She wiped her face to regain visibility, then bent down to avoid being hit again. She immediately armed herself as well. -You really have no idea of the situation you've got yourself into!-

A lumberjack passing by exhaled a sigh of resignation as he watched those two overgrown children chase and provoke each other, as giddy as two duck chicks on their first dive. The fact that they were part of the upper echelons of an organisation whose prerogative was to save the known world certainly didn't make the situation any better.

-Get a grip! I am the undefeated champion of Kinloch's winter games. You don't stand a single chance!- Cullen shouted, using a tree as temporary cover to bundle up a pile of ammunition.

Lavellan took advantage of that moment of respite to flank him. She appeared to his right and hit his shoulder with a snowball, then jumped to the side, somersaulting to avoid being hit in turn. -You ex-Templars brag so much about the strictness of the Order, yet by the way you put it to me today, it really sounds like you're just a bunch of kids on a field trip.- she teased him, dodging a volley and paying it back with agility.

Cullen bent down just in time to see the snowball crash into the bark of his shelter, above his head. -Is this all you got?- he asked, recovering enough ammunition to find a vantage point.

Lavellan didn't react to the tease, taking cover behind a thorn bush as she finished setting up a snap trap. She waited until Cullen was in the best position, then picked up a rock and hurled it at a tree to attract her victim's attention right where she wanted.

She would have loved that image of tactical perfection to be immortalised in a painting, because in her mind she hadn't foreseen a similarly satisfying outcome. Seeing the commander of the Inquisition on his back, finally speechless and with surprise painted on his face for having just fallen into a rodent trap, gave her a sense of satisfaction that she would carry around for days.

She reached him smoothly, towering over him with hands resting on hips and a smile that was the epitome of victory. -Yeah, this is all I got.- she mimicked him.

Cullen, lying on his back, exhaled a tired laugh, abandoning his head on the snow. -You cheated.- he scolded her.

-You hit me from behind.- Lavellan pointed out. -You asked for it.-

-Yeah, I asked for it.- he repeated, placidly.

Lavellan freed his ankles from the rope, then sat down beside him, stretching her legs. -I told you, if you want to get co*cky with me, you have to make sure you can win.-

-It's not always about winning or losing. The fun part is proving yourself against someone better than you.- replied Cullen, resting a hand on his stomach. -In such things, at least.- he added, in a whisper.

Lavellan gave him a sceptical look. -It sounds like one of those phrases that human ladies of a certain age crochet and hang around the house to motivate themselves not to smother their husbands in his sleep.- she poked him.

They both laughed.

-Indulge me.- he premised, after adjusting himself to sit composedly.

-For someone who complains about being busy day and night, you certainly have a lot of time on your hands.- Lavellan commented, running her fingers through her hair to disperse the snow.

Cullen's expression became enriched with a tinge of disappointment, which she nipped in the bud by giving him an amused look.

-I'm all ears.- Lavellan said, pointing them emphatically. -Literally.-

Cullen forced himself not to smile at her stupidity, but it was a poor attempt. -Blessed Andraste.- he exhaled, turning his head away.

Lavellan laughed, then patted him on the arm. -Come on, tell me what's on your mind!-

-That you'd look good with a snow pie on your face.-

She rested a hand on her chest, clearing her throat. -I solemnly swear that I will remain serious.- she pronounced.

Cullen looked at her with eyes full of scepticism. -Don't make promises you can't keep.- he scolded her, then relaxed his forehead as he curved his lips into a half-smile. He waited until they were both quiet, then simply said: -Vir Banal'ras.-

Emotions moved from Lavellan's face, leaving room only for an enigmatic expression, laced in doubt.

Cullen reacted to that change in attitude by slightly tightening his eyelids. That confirmed to him that it was clearly a subject worth discussing. -Can you explain what it is about and why you’re so intimidated by it?-

Lavellan described his face with an enquiring look. -It doesn't intimidate me.-

-What's stopping you then?-

-Are you interested out of vain curiosity, or for a different reason?-

-I think I've told you my reasons.-

-Then you already have your answer.-

Cullen sighed out of frustration. -I'm not going to ridicule your culture, if that's what's bothering you. I'm curious about what's beneath the reaction you had when we met that totem in the hills.-

Lavellan, still defensive, remained silent long enough to allow her head an analysis of the pros and cons before revealing such sensitive information to him. -Usually, a person chooses a path according to their inclinations, be they practical or religious. I follow the Vir Tanadhal.-

-The Ways of the Hunter?-

Lavellan nodded. -Many Dalish, however, follow different paths. One doesn't always need to know how to wield a bow, or a sword. Sometimes it's more useful to know how to apply an ointment in a way that doesn't make a wound worse, or how to efficiently prepare dinner for many people using the few resources a clan has at its disposal.- she explained. -Vir Banal'ras becomes a compulsory choice when a wrong done requires a payment in blood.-

-Revenge, then.-

-A sublimation of revenge.- Lavellan pointed out, looking him straight in the eye. -The hunt always ends when the prey is slaughtered.- she added.

-Always?-

-Those who follow Vir Banal'ras sacrifice everything to fulfil their task. Clan, family, affection... nothing has meaning any longer, there's only the target.- she elaborated. -Some have died, others have been scarred physically and emotionally by the experience.- she paused, growing gloomy. -But I've never heard of a hunter who failed.-

Cullen tightened his lips into a contrite grimace. -Now I understand why you don't want to joke about it.-

-It's something that goes completely against my nature.- she declared, confidently.

Cullen pondered at length over the information he had just received and one could see that he was on the verge of expressing himself, several times. He looked as if he was particularly touched by the discussion and Lavellan knew that when things got too personal with him, there was a good chance he would deflect. -What’s on your mind?- she asked, to help keep him on track.

Cullen immediately broke out of the 'maybe' circuit that was running around inside his head. -I was thinking about what you said about hating punishment.- he said.

Lavellan took a few moments to think about it, then gathered a wisp of hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture. -I suppose you find that inconsistent, since I have no problem killing my enemies.-

-A little bit.-

-You're right.-

Cullen raised his eyebrows, surprised. -Well, that's new.- he commented.

Lavellan rolled her eyes. -I agree that the consequences of a criminal action should be severe as the crime committed by the perpetrator.- she elaborated, lifting a hand in his direction. -But at the same time, I believe in rehabilitation. If an individual makes a mistake, they must be given the chance to understand it and make it right.- she paused. -In addition, punishing someone without taking into consideration the context in which the action took place is a solution of convenience.-

-I think I understand.- Cullen curved his back just enough to seek eye contact with her. -But you have to admit that the person in front of you may not always be receptive to such a change.-

-This possibility exists, yes, but change is a progressive process. It must be given the possibility to mature.- she continued. -Most often, those who make certain mistakes fall victim to them until they can see themselves from a different perspective. That's usually when one can make a distinction between those who actually want to do something about it and those who don’t care.-

Cullen reflected on that for a long time, with a hint of concern in his gaze. Several times he seemed about to elaborate on the subject, but from his expression it seemed as if he wanted to hold back from saying what he actually thought on the matter. When he decided to open his mouth, he looked almost dissatisfied. -According to your reasoning, even the Chantry might have a chance of redemption in your eyes, despite the evil it has done to your people.-

Lavellan reached him with a piercing glance. -I don't believe in redemption. It's like giving candy to a child after class. Mistakes are not stains, they are a reference point for those who make them to spur themselves to do better. They should be welcomed as much as a person's merits. They exist for those who suffer them and for those who make them, to help them give direction to their path.- she explained. -What the Chantry has done to my people is unforgivable and, unfortunately, we are not the only victims of their cultural tyranny. I fear that things will only change many centuries after mine and your deaths.-

-Thanks for being frank.- he said, arching an eyebrow.

Lavellan exhaled a heavy sigh. -I'm sorry, it's a subject that forces me to be cynical.-

-I noticed that.- replied Cullen, tilting his head slightly forward.

-I have to protect myself somehow.- she said, bending her gaze to her hands, which she had clasped in her lap.

Cullen studied her for a long time before intervening. -You look worried.-

Lavellan rubbed her hands together, nervously. -You can say so.- she confessed, in a half-voice. -I want to help, not only because I can, but because I feel obliged to. Still, I have to keep my guard up, because your people have a nonexistent historical memory, and when they’ll start noticing Inquisition's flaws and missteps, I have to be prepared to be reduced to a pair of rabbit ears diseased with my people's typical 'victimistic delusion of omnipotence'.- she raised a sad look in his direction. -These are only background thoughts for now, fortunately.-

-If and when the time comes, we will be ready to back you up.- he said firmly, resting a hand between her shoulder blades.

-I appreciate that. I really do.-

Cullen crinkled his lips slightly, offering her a smile.

She returned it, to the best of her ability. -I'm focused, lethallan. My priority right now is the Breach.- she reassured him. -As I told you, they are just thoughts.-

-Thoughts that I'm glad you shared with me.-

She snorted a laugh. -You said it yourself, you want to know what colour I see the sky.-

They exchanged an intense look, then he cleared his throat, shifting his gaze and hands elsewhere to dispel the embarrassment.

-Did I succeed?- Lavellan asked after a while.

Cullen gave her a doubtful look.

-To indulge your curiosity.- she elaborated, amused.

-Ah, yes, sure.-

-You don't seem too convinced.-

He went back to searching her gaze. -Because you caught me off guard. I expected a good-natured, or very naive answer, but I'm afraid the only person who was guilty of naivety between the two of us was me, precisely because of my expectations.-

Lavellan exhaled a soft laugh. -I don't know whether to feel hurt that you took me for granted, or pleased that I managed to surprise you.- she replied, jokingly. -How about your opinion though?-

Again, Lavellan glimpsed indecision on his face, as if he was suppressing his real thoughts. -I’m a knight. Punishment is a fundamental step in military education.- he replied. -It helps to form an individual's personality and, very often, to strengthen it.-

-No wonder why your subordinates call you a despot.- she poked him, sensing that he wasn't ready to eviscerate the topic, although he wanted to.

Cullen smiled and his gaze took on a tinge of relief. -Even insulting the chain of command is part of the formative process.- he said.

-"They will thank me on the battlefield!"- Lavellan mumbled, imitating his voice.

Cullen thinned his gaze, in disappointment, then retrieved a pile of snow and flattened it on her face. He watched her complain about it, wearing a satisfied expression. -I was right. You do look good in it!- he declared.

She slapped his chest in indignation, making him laugh.

Chapter 9: Statues

Chapter Text

The icy wind was whipping against the trees, howling through the foliage and lashing out without restraint at the faces of the line of refugees who had just escaped the siege of Haven.

Josephine clutched herself in a lined fur cloak she had recovered during her escape as, from the top of a wagon, she counted the survivors. She tried to ignore the despair in the eyes of those who had managed to escape danger and the frustration of those who had not been able to stay by the side of those who had fallen, but the certainty of not being safe got the better of her optimistic spirit, forcing her to stain her face with tears.

The roar of the avalanche that had occurred hours earlier persisted in the ears of the survivors who, after a long march, had managed to drag themselves through the ruins of an old watchtower, far from the battle. They had no choice but to halt, sheltered from the elements, waiting for news as the weather improved.

-The crows can't fly in this weather!- shouted Leliana, trying to overcome the nagging whistle of the wind. She was addressing Cullen, who was helping Josephine to rescue a wounded soldier.

-Let's send the messengers, then. Someone within our contacts will answer the call.- replied the last, decisively.

-No one will help us in this condition, especially the nobles. We have to fend for ourselves.- Cullen said, drawing the attention of one of his officers. -Secure the perimeter and make sure no one is left behind. We'll camp here until this damn blizzard ends.- he ordered him.

On her side, Josephine motioned to the healer who had rushed to take care of the soldier. -We must make an inventory of resources and improvise an infirmary. Quickly!- she told her.

Her interlocutor nodded tensely, then threw one of the soldier's arms around her neck and left to fulfill the request.

Leliana spun around, shielding her eyes from the snow to assess the overall situation. She inhaled her surprise noisily as she noticed the arrival of Cassandra and Solas, who were dragging themselves through the snow along with the last band of survivors.

-We must go back!- said Cassandra, distraught, grabbing Leliana's arm as she pointed to the distance. -We can’t abandon her!-

-Abandon her?! - Josephine echoed, resting a hand on her chest. -We thought she was with you!-

-We had to split up.- Solas explained while leaning precariously on his staff, dead tired.

Varric limped over to Cullen, resting his hands on both knees to catch his breath. -She stayed behind to give us a chance to catch up with you.- he said, his voice smeared with bitterness. -I'm sorry.-

The mask of resolve, to which Cullen had clung so far, slipped from his face abruptly, causing him to look at his interlocutor with eyes full of disbelief.

Varric's features took on a grimace of disappointment. -It's my fault.- he said.

-We must go back.- Cassandra repeated, firmly.

Josephine nodded, nervously. -All right, we can form a search party and...-

-We don't have time for that.- Cullen decreed, regaining control of himself. Those present turned a look full of uncertainty in his direction. -She would be the first to tell you that it’s a stupid idea.- he elaborated, pointing to the others at what little remained of the Inquisition. -We promised to protect these people. Right now this is our priority.-

Solas drew a composed sigh of relief, applauding him for his rationality. Cassandra, on the other hand, sported a disgusted expression, shaking her head in disagreement. -The Herald...- she began.

-Has given us an advantage.- Leliana interrupted her, shifting her gaze elsewhere. -We must use it, or her sacrifice will be worth nothing.-

-Then I'll go alone!- Cassandra blurted out, turning her back on the group to retrace her steps.

Cullen raised a hand in Josephine's direction to reassure her that he was holding the reins of the situation, then reached out to Cassandra, grabbing her arm to prevent her from leaving.

She glared at that gesture, giving the perpetrator a look sharper than the sword she was carrying on her side. -Try and stop me.- she provoked him.

-I don't want to stop you, I want you to listen to reason.-

She pulled her arm back with a sharp tug. -What is there to reason about? Lav needs me now, and only the Maker knows how much we need her!-

Cullen waited for the others to move away, before addressing the situation. -I couldn't agree more, but we have to use our heads.- he said. -We'll go after her as soon as the blizzard is over and we're sure people are safe.-

-That could take days, and she’s in danger now!-

-You think I don't know that?- he asked, his voice broken with frustration. -We have to stay on track, or she would never forgive us. We would never forgive ourselves.-

Cassandra tightened her lips, holding back a sharp retort on her palate. She took two deep breaths, then ran a hand over her forehead, at the height of despair. -I should have stayed by her side.-

Cullen didn't even try to console her, for if he had he would have come to agree with her. He rather stepped in front of her, cautiously. -Are you with me?- he asked, extending a hand in her direction.

Cassandra took a few seconds to swallow her sense of defeat, then made an effort to shake it.

*

-Can I try to dissuade you?- Leliana asked, although she already knew the answer she would get. It would have been the same one that had been given to her and Josephine at least a dozen times during that harsh evening.

Inside the tent that Inquisition leadership was using as temporary headquarters, Dorian secured the mage's staff on his back, then turned to Cassandra, who was ready to leave. -If you all didn't look so preoccupied, it would almost look like a family outing.- he commented.

Blackwall, not far away, shot him a smirk. -That's why we're bringing the children along.-

Sera, who for once had absolutely no desire to joke, shifted her gaze to the entrance of the tent where Cullen had just appeared, followed closely by mother Giselle.

-You must have faith in her return and stay.- she said, trying to convince him. -Without you, we are doomed.-

-Without her, so it’s Thedas.- he said.

-Who is going to lead the army in your absence, Commander? What are we going to do without the help of the Inquisition?-

Cullen pointed emphatically to the environment outside. -There’s no Inquisition anymore.- he said. -Look at us. We're stranded, overwhelmed and with nowhere to stay.-

-And without you we will die.- Josephine intervened, turning to Cassandra. -If it were possible, I would go after Lavellan myself, you know that. But right now everyone needs to do their part, especially the four of us. We can't split up now.-

The Iron Bull, who had remained uninvolved up to that point, exhaled a low, grave sigh. -I recognise this is a personal matter, Seeker, and I'm with you, but the Ambassador is right. Let the Furies and I deal with it. We are paid for this, after all.-

With a gesture of emphasis, Dorian embraced the section of the tent where Lavellan's teammates were located. -Yeah, right, don't count on us. After all, we are all gathered here just to braid horsehair.-

Blackwall nodded vigorously, sharing the sentiment behind his teammate's sarcasm. -We’ve been fighting demons alongside the Herald for months. It's our duty as comrades-in-arms to come to her rescue.- he added, for reinforcement.

-What he said.- Sera intervened, bringing herself to his side.

Cassandra looked at her colleagues, one by one, with her jaw clenched and a look charged with frustration.

-Stay, I beg you.- Josephine encouraged her, extending her hands in prayer.

-We're wasting time.- Cullen urged her instead, prepared to leave. -If we don't act now, we'll lose her.-

Cassandra bowed her head slightly, biting her lower lip nervously. She closed her eyes, then drew in a deep breath.

"There are always three solutions." Lavellan said, in the back of her head. "When the lines between them are blurred by sentiment, it makes no sense for me to follow my instincts, because emotions compromise them. If I can, I prefer to rely on experience."

-What's the logical solution then?- muttered Cassandra, gripping her sword handle tightly.

The group turned in her direction, waiting. Leliana approached her, recognising that phrase, as Lavellan used to repeat it often when the four of them couldn’t find common ground during council. -She always put the powerless first.- she said, placing a hand on her arm, gently. -Like Justinia.-

Cassandra looked up at her. -And, as with Justinia, I will have to carry her death in my conscience for the rest of my days because of my inefficiency. This is what you’re asking me.-

Varric, a short distance away, ran a hand over his forehead, heavily. -It's not your fault, Seeker. If there's a finger to be pointed, then point it at me.- he corrected her, drawing her attention.

Cassandra glared at him. -What are you talking about now?- she rebuked him.

-I'm talking about Corypheus.-

Upon hearing that name, Cassandra felt a memory trigger. She drew her mind back to a non-existent chapter of The Tale that Varric had told her verbally many months before and overlaid it with the obscene image of the leader carrying the Red Templars into battle. -The Elder One is Corypheus?!- she shouted. She looked at her teammate for confirmation, whereupon he nodded in assent, displaying an expression somewhere between bewildered and mortified.

-Can we stay on track?- groaned Dorian, who had joined Cullen in the meantime. -I'd like to remind you that Lavellan is the only person in all of Thedas who knows how to close the rifts, just to add a reason to hurry.-

-Then go.- Cassandra said, continuing to stare at Varric, with a worried air. -The four of us will deal with what is left.- she paused briefly. -And what has to be done.-

-The three of you.- Cullen corrected her, with a note of evident disappointment in his voice. -Don't speak in my name.-

Leliana and Josephine exchanged a tired look, but it was Cassandra who intervened. -Even if the Inquisition is in disarray, as you say, we cannot leave our positions. You made a commitment as commander, Cullen, you must fulfil it.-

Cullen rested a hand on the handle of his sword, nervously. -Since I set foot in Haven, Cassandra, I have always respected my role, accepting its honours and burdens.-

-Then stay!- blurted Josephine, exhausted from having to repeat herself.

-A cause needs a lead, or else it's just a bow without an arrow.- Cullen said, then pointed summarily at Cassandra. -Do we really want a helmsman who changes her mind depending on how the wind blows?-

The Bull raised his arms in surrender, then moved to leave the tent. -When you’ve made up your mind, I’ll be outside.- he said. Solas, Blackwall, Varric and Sera followed him closely, equally tired of the constant bickering.

No one inside the tent dared to open their mouths after the commander's murderous exit. There were those who saw it as an unfair statement, like Josephine, and those who silently approved of it, like Vivienne. Either way, there was a drastic split in the leadership, without any guidance to hold the helm firmly in place.

After far too much time spent glaring at each other, Leliana took the floor. -I have a network of spies to deal with.- she said dryly, retrieving a lectern as she left.

-Someone must continue to believe in Justinia's vision.- Josephine added, deeply disappointed by that exchange. -I will remain at my post, as it is only right.-

Cassandra took a while to process the situation, then turned to Cullen. -Bring her home.- she said, decisively.

He gave a single nod of assent, while at his side Dorian assumed a satisfied expression. -What is that hard?- he said.

The defeat, however, was glaringly obvious, especially to those on the outside who witnessed that division after losing everything. The officers tried to maintain order among the soldiers, whose morale was totally devastated. Although most of them supported Cullen's idea of finding the Herald, many were certain that if he left, there was a high probability that he would never come back.

The refugees and exiles in Haven, on the other hand, mirrored what was happening to their leaders. Fighting was becoming more and more frequent and despair was so thick in their spirits that even praying had ceased to bring them comfort.

Cassandra looked upon that scenario with a distraught air, as the snow silently descended from the sky.

The wind had stopped blowing, replaced by the rustling of crows' wings and their high-pitched cawing. The sound of a distant, unheard, invocation accompanied the group's preparations, like the macabre soundtrack for a mission with death engraved in its conclusion.

Amongst them all, however, Solas seemed distracted. He was clutching his staff absentmindedly, staring at the edge of the forest that created a natural perimeter around the main camp. Cassandra reached the target of his gaze, frowning as she noticed a nocturnal bird of prey swooping from tree to tree, gliding over the snow and up through the foliage in a continuous, nervous motion.

-To elves, owls are the messengers of Andruil.- Josephine instructed her, moving to her side.

-The goddess of hunting?-

Josephine nodded, hugging herself in her heavy cloak. -To the Dalish, she represents their very survival.- she answered.

Cassandra gulped, then searched Solas again with her gaze. She analysed his figure for a long time, then found herself holding her breath. -He thinks it's a sign!- she said, with a clear note of hope in her voice.

She quickly moved towards the forest, dragging herself through the snow with determination. She passed by the group, causing most of them to turn in her direction, then started to run, stumbling through the tall layer of snow and even shovelling it with her arms to reach the spot where Solas had identified the owl. She noticed out of the corner of her eye that Cullen, the Bull and Blackwall were doing the same, guilty of having guessed what she was trying to do.

Thanks to that joint effort, they helped her create a corridor and together they reached the depths of the forest. Cassandra flicked her gaze from branch to branch, searching for the bird of prey, and when she found it in front of her, plucking at the feathers of one wing with a peaceful air, her heart began to beat furiously in her chest.

-Blessed Andraste, there she is!- Cullen shouted, hurrying across a path completely covered in snow, beyond which a tiny halo of green light could be glimpsed, swirling in the air like a firefly that has opened its eyes in the wrong season.

Cassandra gasped, then ran forward until she recognised the silhouette of Lavellan, who was crawling towards them, using her bow as a support. She ran past Cullen and caught her in her arms, supporting her to prevent her from falling face-first into the snow.

-Get a healer, quickly!- exclaimed Blackwall. -The Herald has returned!-

-Thank the Maker!- murmured Cassandra, placing a caress on the head of Lavellan, who had clung to her.

-Sorry it took me so long.- muttered the newcomer, cold and stiff as a stalactite. She turned to Cullen, who was rubbing her back to get her warmth back, then gave him a stunted smile. -I was stuck in traffic.- she said, before passing out.

*

-I shouldn't have spoken to you in that manner.-

Cassandra, returning from the camp's improvised infirmary, raised a fatigued glance at Cullen. -No, you shouldn't have, even if you had a point.- she admitted, picking up in her hands the flask of liquor he was offering her. -For a moment, I lost my sense of direction.- she added, after warming her throat with a good sip.

-Now that Lavellan has returned, we can focus on more pressing matters.- Leliana intervened, joining them. She motioned Josephine to come closer. -We must find our way back as soon as possible, or all we have done so far will be for nothing.-

Josephine nodded, firmly. -I'm sure we can make things right.-

Cullen looked at his colleagues, one by one. -We have nothing left. We are defenceless, in the middle of nowhere and with no allies to turn to.- he summed up, with a hint of frustration in his voice.

-We already know. Stop stating the obvious!- Leliana snapped. -Now it's not the time for despair.-

-Just as we built Inquisition from nothing, we will be able to reforge it.- Cassandra stated, in support of her colleague.

-Pardon me for being realistic! I can't work if I don't have anything to get my hands on.- Cullen reiterated, with obvious scepticism. -So far we have managed, but we can't count on luck forever.-

Cassandra tried to argue, but had to interrupt herself when she noticed that Mother Giselle was moving briskly in their direction. -The Herald of Andraste will make a full recovery.- the religious told them, without faltering in her disappointment as she passed an eye on them. -I admit I was greatly concerned when I saw the condition of her hand. However, your elven mage Solas is looking after it assiduously and seems to be confident that it isn't such a grave problem.-

Cassandra relaxed her posture. -Thank you, Mother.-

-Can we be of some assistance?- Josephine asked, leaning over the newcomer.

Mother Giselle remained silent for a while, then huffed a dry sigh through her nose. -Recover faith in yourselves.- she declared, then returned the way she had come.

The four of them exchanged a long, piercing glance, then turned in unison towards the infirmary, where Solas was massaging the palm of Lavellan's left hand with an absorbed air, as if he was trying to predict her future.

-If she hadn't come back...- Josephine attempted to say, in a half-voice, but prevented herself from entertaining that thought. -I'm glad she's here, that's all.- she told them, instead.

-You're not alone.- Leliana admitted, surprisingly.

-Are you talking strategically, or personally? - Cullen asked her, doubtful.

Leliana failed to answer, but it was clear from her expression that the solution was somewhere in between those options, unable to lean towards one in particular.

Cassandra exhaled a weary sigh. -Come on, our people need us.- she said, moving forward towards the centre of the camp.

The others followed closely behind, their souls troubled by a sense of indecision. On one hand, the idea that Lavellan was alive and would recover lifted a drastic weight off their shoulders, but on the other hand there was a lingering sense of awareness that put all the load back. They would have to reconstruct from scratch everything they had worked so hard for in the last few months, an attempt without any certainty of success.

Fortunately, this insecurity was not going to last long.

*

Lavellan surveyed the horizon from a rocky outcrop, looking for a trail.

Solas, a short distance away, whistled to attract her attention.

They were among the remains of an ancient glacier that descended from the mountain peaks into the valley like a flow of molten silver, deluding the beholder's gaze that it was in motion.

The clouds, in the clear sky, were chased by the mountain wind, piling up in cotton clumps that changed shape rapidly as the weather passed.

They had been travelling for two days. Two days in which Lavellan had slept little and eaten even less, reacting just as she did when her clan was in danger and needed to find a quick way out.

-What's going on?- Lavellan asked in elvhen, reaching her teammate swiftly.

Solas pointed to the caravan untangling a hundred metres behind them. -They stopped. Something must have happened.- he replied.

-There were no obstacles in the way. Perhaps they just need to catch their breath.- speculated Lavellan, narrowing her gaze towards the signalled target. -Wait here, lethallan. There's a light flower scent in the air, we might be close to a valley suitable for camping.-

Solas directed a bright smile at her, then looked out over the horizon. -A delightful scent, indeed.- he replied. -We’re getting close.-

After backtracking along the path leading to the glacier, Lavellan reached the head of the caravan and almost made the same mistake a covered wagon did, toppling over a huge patch of ice that covered a large portion of the road.

It was an obvious obstacle that none of the scouts had noticed, and this failure made her feel like a proper fool for having not checked the route herself.

-We have to go around it.- proposed a veteran of the army, the same one Lavellan had spent a few words with the day before closing the Breach.

-This area is not mapped. We risk going too far off course, ending up in even worse trouble.- intervened an elven scout in Leliana's service, whom Lavellan recalled as Charter.

The two of them were part of the leading group, the lighter one, which set the pace for the caravan and at the same time registered problems promptly to report them to both Lavellan and the group in the centre.

-Your Worship, have you seen an alternative route from above?- Charter asked.

Lavellan shook her head, after reaching her. -Alternatives are too dangerous. We are close to a ravine. If we detoured, even by a little, we would have to abandon the wagons and carry our resources and the wounded on our backs. -

-We don't have enough planks to cover the ice.- Cullen intervened, climbing out of the overturned wagon with scout Harding. -Crafting new ones would block us here for hours.-

Lavellan cast a frowning glance at the obstacle, noting that it formed a dividing strip on the road and, at the same time, acted as adhesive between the parts. -If we melted the whole thing, we could cause a landslide.- she said, trying to shake off her frustration productively.

-I could create a passage, but it wouldn't be a precise job.- intervened Lieutenant Burrows, who was consulting his grimoire leaning against the wheels of a wagon close to the group. -At that point, we might as well use pickaxes.-

Cullen stepped up beside Lavellan, dispersing the snow accumulated on his gloves with an involuntary applause. -That's out of the question. A job like this requires accuracy.-

-Time is not on our side, sir.- intervened Harding, worriedly.

Lavellan leaned over the patch, resting her hands on it to assess its stability. -Fortunately, I'm an overthinker.- she murmured, tightening her eyelids over an interested expression. -I need Dorian.- she said, turning towards Charter as she slipped a hand inside one of the pouches she kept hanging from her belt.

Cullen gave her a confused look. -Dorian?- he repeated.

Lavellan grabbed a notebook, then nodded. -Perfect mustache, prompt response and the most expensive mage's staff you've ever seen.- she described him. -That Dorian. And I need him now. Yesterday, in fact.-

-Yes, ma'am.- Charter said, then rushed to the back of the caravan.

-What's on your mind?- Harding asked, brushing the snow from her knees.

-To make camp in time to avoid the storm.- replied Lavellan, knocking on the ice slab as if she were announcing herself.

The veteran lifted his head, confused. -Sky's clear.- he commented, as Lavellan was scribbling a note.

-Trust the expert. If Your Worship says there's a storm brewing, don't question it and take cover on the fly.- Cullen said. -What does the mountain offer us today?-

Lavellan looked up from his calculations, to give him a weary smile. -There's a scent of flowers and fennec crap in the air. We should disperse a little, but it looks like a cosy place, well sheltered from the wind.-

Harding chuckled. -"Flowers and fennec crap". Damn, boss, you're a certified Elf!- she exclaimed.

-They give us a certificate along with the rabbit ears when we sprout from the ground.- Lavellan replied, placing the charcoal between the pages so that she wouldn't miss the mark once she closed the notebook.

She finished the math, then sat down on the snow while waiting, wearing the expression of someone in real need of a holiday.

Cullen squatted down in front of her, handing her a piece of beef jerky. Lavellan tried to decline, but he persisted, thrusting it into her hands. -I get it, you feel like you’re carrying all of us on your shoulders, which is true, but you can't survive solely on air.- he said, his voice low so that only her could hear him. -If you keep this up, you’ll crumple on yourself.-

Lavellan chewed the meal reluctantly, then curved the corners of her lips into a mischievous smile. -Yes, mother hen.- she teased, causing him to roll his eyes.

-I was laying comfortably on a bronto's back, informing Josephine that there are other colours besides blue and yellow...- Dorian interrupted them, with an annoyed-looking Charter in tow. -...then this little war orphan showed up to inform me that the Herald of Andraste urgently required my presence. Maker forbid I reject a heartfelt plea for help from Her Holiness herself!- he continued, opening his arms emphatically.

Cullen stretched out a hand towards Lavellan, helping her to stand up, then she reached out to Dorian, taking him under her arm and leading him in front of the ice slab. -I need your magic touch.- she said, showing him the notebook.

Dorian glanced first at the idea, then at the object of their problems, and finally gave her a look stained with disappointment. -And you called me just for that? You wanted to feast your eyes, admit it.-

Lavellan laughed. -So? You think you can do it?-

Dorian retrieved the mage's staff from his back, planting it on the ground with a dry gesture. -That's just insulting.- he said, conjuring vivid flames on the fingers of his right hand before thrusting them towards the obstacle.

The fire ate the ice gradually, steadily and neatly, clearing an oblique corridor wide enough for the wagons to pass in a line. Dorian and Lavellan collaborated from start to finish, cautiously, and managed to finish the job within a quarter of an hour, under the surprised gaze of those present.

-Impressive!- commented Harding.

-It's my middle name.- replied Dorian, flexing his fingers to look at his fingernails with an air of fake boredom. -Anything else?-

-Indeed. From now on you'll stick to the front group.- said Cullen, looking at the cleared ground with a satisfied expression.

Dorian pulled on a playfully annoyed face, turning to Lavellan. -Do I really have to?-

-You really have to.- she replied, patting him on the back to comfort him.

Her interlocutor sighed, and shrugged. -I will figure out some way to enjoy it.- he said, winking at Harding, who was smiling at him. -Next time you want my blessing, let me know via correspondence.- he joked, as Lavellan walked away, laughing.

-I have no clue what he's talking about, like at all.- lied Harding, just in time to catch Cullen's puzzled expression.

*

The caravan proceeded without further incident, arriving at a beautiful clearing overgrown with ivy and lily of the valley blossoms by mid-afternoon. The proximity of the trees made it impossible to erect huge tents, but still provided an excellent shelter from the mountain wind. Only a distant echo could be heard of the storm, which was roaring at high altitude.

Lavellan and Solas made their way to the camp shortly after sunset, to review the situation with the rest of the scouts before dinner. No one had yet sighted the shelter Solas had spoken of, even though they had combed the area around the mountain pass the caravan was facing, therefore many of them were beginning to doubt the validity of the Mage's word.

-There is no reason to.- Lavellan said confidently, turning to a dalish hunter of her acquaintance. -Solas has saved my life more than once and knows the lore better than all of us put together. We'll find what we're looking for, very soon.-

Solas, from behind, gave her a piercing look but didn't say anything.

-Da'len, we’ve been walking for days and have found nothing.- intervened an elven scout, who came from a clan that had lived in the Frostback Mountains since the Dales had fallen. -This area is so remote that no one has ventured to explore it for centuries.-

-Which is why it's vital for us to find this place.- retorted Lavellan. -I have to get everyone to safety and there's no better place than such an area, little frequented and unmapped. There we'll be able to regroup.-

-I don't know why you're giving yourselves such a hard time over these people.- commented the hunter, skeptically. -They consider us animals, and if it weren't for your usefulness, lethallin, they wouldn't think twice about executing you for being a spy.-

-These people- Harding intervened, crossing her arms over her breast in a nervous gesture -believe that the future belongs to everyone, whether they are Elves, Dwarves or Mages. The Inquisition deserves to survive.-

-Do you really believe that?- asked the scout, turning to Lavellan.

She nodded firmly. -The Inquisition I believe in was born from the ashes of an old world to help Thedas heal. We are all in this together, whether Humans like it or not, and together we can change things.-

-You are too idealistic, da'len. Shem cannot be trusted.-

-Then trust me, my intentions and my experience as a hunter.- Lavellan said. -I have placed in your Keeper's hands the updated maps of the safe routes into the Free Marches for the last Arlathven, don't forget that.-

The scout shook her head. -I haven't forgotten. Just as I haven't forgotten your hunting skills.- she paused. -Ir abelas, da'len.-

Lavellan cleared her throat. -Tomorrow we’ll extend the search radius.- she announced. -Solas says we'll find our target in the north, so we'll focus solely on the northern sector, traveling in parallel. Hand over today's notes to Sister Leliana and bring her up to date as you did with me.- she passed her gaze over those present, authoritatively. -Eat, rest well and leave as soon as you are able. Time is running out and people are starting to get sick. The last thing we want is a cold outbreak.- she paused. -And watch out for the ice slabs. I don't want a revival of what happened earlier.-

The scouts bid farewell, leaving her and Solas to face darkness in silence.

-Do you get why I jumped at the chance to leave my clan now?- she murmured in elvhen, leaning her back against the trunk of a birch tree.

Solas clutched his staff, shifting his frown elsewhere. -Your people sacrificed empathy for caution.- he replied, keeping the elvhen.

Lavellan cast him a quick glance. -This isn't caution, it's lack of decency. If a man is hovering at the edge of a ravine, you carry him to safety, you don't check his ears.- she blurted out. -And don't tell me it's a coping mechanism, or I'll tell Sera where you sleep.-

Solas gave her a composed smile. -I didn't say a word.-

Lavellan took a deep breath, to calm her nerves. -Forget my whining and rest, please.- she said, straightening up to rest a hand on his shoulder.

Solas reached her hand out to squeeze it briefly, then nodded in assent. -It's almost time now. Mala suledin nadas, lethallin.-

-Ghilan'nain enansal, lethallan.- she said, then walked back into the camp.

-I'll never get used to it.-

Cullen lifted his gaze from the parchment he was reading, giving his second in command a questioning look.

To debrief privately, the two had occupied a space carved out between two fir trees, sheltered at the top and sides by a large tarp and lit by a long, thin torch.

Rylen nodded to the group of scouts talking in the dark, not far away. The eyes of the Elves present glowed in the dark, reflecting the little light of the torches like faint will-o'-the-wisps attached to dark, thin, curved silhouettes. It looked like an illustration of a group of specters from a chasind storybook.

-When I was on a night patrol, back at the Circle, I always caught them pretending to be asleep. Especially the children.- said Rylen, continuing to watch them suspiciously. -Not to mention the ones I'd find hanging out in the corridors after curfew. I pretended I didn't see a thing, then in the morning I would lecture them for hours.-

Cullen folded up the parchment, tucked it back into the folds of his cloak, then approached his number two, resting a hand on his shoulder. -And the night after you'd find them running loose in the corridors again, I suppose.- he surmised, having shared similar experiences.

Rylen cast him an indicative glance. -Obviously.-

-You never reported them to your commander?-

-Just once, but I had good reasons for doing so.- Rylen replied, lowering his voice. -Is it possible that the more I try to find positive memories of the Circle, the more the negative ones bubble up?- he complained.

Cullen tightened his lips on a pained expression, as if his stomach was locked in a clamp. -We thought we had it right.- he said, plainly.

Rylen remained in stunned silence for a while, then huffed. -Be frank: do you really think she'll turn things around?-

-If I wasn't completely sure, I wouldn't have pressed to go after her myself.- Cullen said. -If I had failed, I would now be heading somewhere in Ferelden, looking for a lord to offer my blade to.-

-I was just about to tell you that there's still time to make a detour to Amaranthine. I heard city guards make good coin and the scran is...- he kissed his fingertips.

Cullen chuckled. -Amaranthine is damp and smells like the bottom of a fish barrel. You'd be whining all the time, as if it wasn't already your favorite pastime.-

-There, now I crave fish.- complained Rylen, frowning. -A lovely tongue burning salmon stew.-

-Just because it's so easy to find salmon this high in the mountains.-

-Knowing her, the Herald would be able to find plenty here as well.-

Cullen tried to retort, but found himself mentally agreeing with him. Without saying anything, he tried to spot Lavellan's silhouette in the shadows, to give a visual identity to his sense of faith.

He waited for the scouts to disperse, striving for patience, and when he recognised his target, he instinctively raised a hand in greeting.

-Aw, yer pure done in, Worshee!- commented Rylen, worriedly.

Lavellan, who had approached to answer the greeting, gave him a laconic look. -Hello to you too, Rylen.- she said, then turned to Cullen. -Something wrong?- she asked, wearily.

He stood speechless for a few seconds, then shook his head, regaining his usual composure immediately. -The accommodation for the night is ideal.- he said. -I discussed with Leliana, and I can confirm that we’re able to give you a head start of one day, as agreed.-

Lavellan nodded. -Perfect. Then we'll proceed as scheduled. Thank you, Commander.- she then turned to Rylen. -We are too far up for salmon, you'll have to make do with trout.-

Rylen drew back his head, surprised. -Brilliant!- he replied. -You heard everything, then.-

-I'm the Herald of Andraste, Cap. I see and hear everything .- she joked, stretching her neck to dispel exhaustion.

Cullen took advantage of her temporary distraction to point to his ear, indicating to his second that it was obvious her hearing was more developed than theirs. Lavellan intercepted that gesture, but didn't pay much attention to it. -Harding killed a nug a few hours ago.- she said. -You'd better hurry before the Bull smells the aroma of roasted meat.-

-You're not joining us?- Cullen intervened, with an air of reproach.

Lavellan passed a quick glance at him. -There's too much on my plate now. I will grab a bite when the time comes.- she replied, dryly.

Cullen gave her a sidelong glance, whereupon she rolled her eyes. -I'll snatch something from the barrel of fermented meat before I go to sleep.- she reassured him.

-You better.- he said. -You’re still recovering, you must find time to take care of yourself as well.-

-When did you become my nurse?-

-Mock me all you want, but you know damn well I'm right. -

Lavellan stretched a smile, before leaving. -Later, mama hen.- she said.

Cullen followed her with a disapproving glance, for later finding a look full of resignation waiting for him.

-Have you told her yet?- Rylen asked him, after Lavellan was far enough away that she couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation.

Cullen hesitated, implicitly answering the question.

Rylen softened his features. -Do me a favor, Commander: don't wait too long.- he suggested.

His interlocutor took a deep breath, then focused back on the letter he was studying before he was interrupted. -Now is not the time.- he said, giving the conversation a drastic closure.

Rylen debated with himself whether to insist or not, but gave up almost immediately, preferring to comfort his commanding superior in a manner congenial to both of them rather than offering him a helping hand that would have done more harm than good. In fact, he assisted him in his duties late into the night, limiting their interactions to work, while remaining in close proximity to him.

Nothing to say, Cullen mentally congratulated himself on having been lucky to find in his number two an excellent professional, but above all a great friend.

*

Being the only one still awake, along with the sentries, put a certain tension on Lavellan's shoulders.

She knew she had to force herself to sleep, because the entire Inquisition was counting on her. Yet her head was giving her no respite, proposing increasingly drastic scenarios as the minutes ticked by.

Laying down, facing the thick fabric of the tent, she couldn’t do anything but think so she turned towards Cassandra, who was sleeping blissfully by her side and smiled at her. She too has suffered from insomnia and tension those days, so seeing her resting successfully, in total relaxation, brought Lavellan some relief.

She tucked the blanket around her colleague's neck, gently, then ceded hers, preferring to try to ease her sleep by going for a walk, rather than lie there stressed out in the dark.

She slipped into her cloak and breathed deeply of the chill, crisp night air, slowly making her way through the camp to try and clear her head of worries. Every time she tried, however, she was tormented by the feeling that time was running out and that the mountain would kill them long before it could provide a shelter.

She huffed, suppressing the instinct to get back on the road immediately, then hopped on the spot to dissipate her frustration.

Once she had calmed her nerves, she resumed walking, hugging herself in her cloak more out of comfort than necessity. She walked a few meters before realizing that she and the sentries were not the only ones suffering from insomnia.

She furrowed her brow, feeling a sense of worry run up her spine.

Cullen was standing in his shirtsleeves, his forehead resting on the bark of a pine tree, as if he were doing a headcount waiting for someone to hide.

She approached him cautiously, calling his name, then placed her hand on his back. His body exuded an abnormal warmth, as if the cold didn't touch him.

-I'm fine. It's just a temporary migraine.- he said, hoarsely.

Lavellan looked around quickly, trying to find something to cover him with. Meanwhile, she slipped off her cloak, securing it tightly around his shoulders. -You don't look like you're fine.- she murmured, with a hint of reproach. -I got you. Give me two...- she began to say, as her body acted even before her mind could formulate a sentence to refer to her lips.

In less than five minutes, and miraculously, she retrieved a saucepan, filled it halfway with snow and lit a fire under it. She plucked a handful of pine needles and cleaned them as best as she could, waiting for the snow to melt into water and boil before she put them in the pot.

-There's a cup...- Cullen mumbled, gesturing to a nearby shelter. Lavellan hurried to find the object, and when the brew was ready, she hurried to bring it to him already filled.

She rested a naked wrist on his forehead as he was drinking, drawing a sigh of relief at the realization that, despite the heat his body was feeling, he had no fever. -It must be the air pressure, or maybe you ate something wrong.- she speculated.

Cullen gulped down the drink with his eyes closed, then wiped his lips with the back of his hand. -I didn't eat.- he replied.

-Incoherent.- Lavellan scolded him, carefully retrieving the cup from his hands to place it on the ground.

He answered her with a weak smile. -At least I have a valid excuse.- he said, letting her help him straighten up. When he was strong enough to stand on his own, he slipped off the cloak, returning it to its owner. -Was it an elven remedy?- he asked her, alluding to the brew.

-Human, actually.- she corrected him, motioning for him to sit on a nearby rock. She retrieved a heavy blanket from the shelter as he took his seat, then wrapped it around his shoulders.

-How are you?- she asked him after a little while, gently passing a hand over his head.

Cullen sighed. -Better. That thing is horrible, but miraculous.-

-Let's not overdo it now. It's hot water with pine needles.-

-I'm fine, Lavellan, really. I just needed to get some fresh air.-

She shot him a reproachful look. -I'll pretend I believe that.- she declared, crouching down in front of him.

-Good.- Cullen said, shifting his gaze to the small fire. -Who's the nurse now?-

Lavellan chuckled. -You're the dumbest!-

-Can I ask you for a favor?-

-No, I'm not buying you a new horse. We already have plenty at home.-

Cullen snorted a light laugh. -I just wanted some company, actually.-

Lavellan got up to refill the cup and brought it back to him. -That is already a much more acceptable request.- she joked, taking a seat at his side. She watched him take a good sip, then smiled at him. -I always catch you with your breeches hanging down, as Sera would say. I guess that's not something easy for you to handle.-

Cullen cast her a quick glance. -It's frustrating, actually.- he corrected her. -But apparently, it's not something I can control. Not with you, at least.-

Lavellan forced herself to hold back a satisfied smile, with little success. -Oh.- she said, quietly.

-Maybe it's because my instincts tell me I can trust you, unconditionally.- he explained, avoiding eye contact. -Not only regarding professional matters.-

Lavellan pondered for a few moments, before elaborating. -Let's assume we're in a normal setting, in which you are… composed. What do you want me to see, when I look at you?- she asked, lowering her voice.

Cullen blinked, running a hand through his hair. -What I'm supposed to be, I guess. A man who has total control over himself, and performs his duty with integrity and dedication.- he replied. -A person who's reliable and willing to sacrifice.-

-This is the description of a statue, not the person I beated at snowballs a few days ago.- she intervened, gathering her hands together in her lap. She decided to up her game. -The same person who would drop everything to look for me can live with the one you're trying so hard to be?-

Cullen turned his head in her direction. -I told you you could count on me for anything. When I make a commitment, I go all in.-

-Even if it means sacrificing everything you’ve worked so hard for?-

He nodded, without hesitation. -You didn't think twice before leaving for the Fallow Mire. If you were willing to face an army of undead to save a handful of soldiers, what would you do for me and Cassandra?-

Lavellan gave him a melancholic smile. -I would ask the Bull if he felt like breaking some legs and rush to your rescue.-

Cullen returned the smile. -And by the way, you didn't win at snowballs, you cheated.- he pointed out, snuggling up in his blanket.

Lavellan slapped his arm. -You started it, hitting me from behind. So much for integrity!-

They stayed side by side, trying to play it down for the majority of the night and collapsing a few hours before daylight, too exhausted to continue. When the sun rose, the responsibilities they had laboriously set aside hit them square in the face, awakening as well the knot in their stomachs that they had been carrying around for days.

Before she left, Lavellan wrote a quick note, placing it under the cup so that Cullen would easily find it in his wake.

When he did, she had already been gone for an hour, ready to complete her mission. He found himself smiling while reading the message, recognizing the words he offered her just a week before; "One thing doesn't exclude the other."

Chapter 10: Gambit

Chapter Text

-Our escape from Haven… it was close. I’m relieved that you– that so many made it out.-

-You stayed behind. You could have– I will not allow the event at Haven to happen again. You have my word.-

*

Lavellan strove to maintain a firm but calm pace as she stepped away from the lower courtyard that embraced Skyhold's great gateway after what she would describe as a turning point in her personal life.

It wasn't the first time Cullen had thrown her off guard and she was equally guilty of sending him signals that hinted at her interest in his regards. Superficially, of course, because in her eyes he was strikingly handsome, intriguing and together they shared the practicality of those who are used to solving problems well and quickly. In addition, he was honest towards her, while still respecting the boundaries that were placed upon him during conversations that were far too personal, which was a quality Lavellan admired.

On that occasion, however, her heart skipped a beat, suddenly and for no reason, making her realize that there was a possibility that neither of them was playing around. The possibility of a serious romantic involvement had appeared in that dialogue, or worse: every word reeked of genuine love.

Lavellan mimicked a fake cry, sobbing theatrically as she realized she had gotten herself into trouble with her own hands.

She headed towards the new armory, because she knew she needed a good earful, and as she crossed its threshold, she abandoned her dignity on the doormat and hurried back up the stairs, as if it were a matter of life and death.

On seeing Lavellan suddenly appear in her room, transfixed and purple, Cassandra immediately stopped polishing her shield and gave her a worried look.

-I'm in love.-

Cassandra widened her eyes, covering her mouth with both hands, genuinely shocked.

-No, no, no.- Lavellan rebuked her, pointing at her emphatically. -Where are the eyeroll and the grunt of disapproval?-

The other, however, remained motionless and stared at her, precisely because that revelation had come unexpectedly.

Lavellan stepped in front of her, looking distraught, whereupon Cassandra leaned in her direction to avoid being heard, although the room was completely empty. -With whom?- she murmured.

Lavellan gave her a skeptical look. -Are you serious?-

Cassandra grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her in response.

-Cullen. It's Cullen!-

A distinct tinge of what Lavellan read as disappointment appeared in Cassandra's gaze. -Oh.- she said simply.

-I know!- Lavellan groaned, her voice an octave higher.

-No, it's not that. He's fine. I'm not like Varric who judges people based on the type of beer they drink.- elaborated the other, waving a hand between them to chase that reaction away. -The way you put it to me, I thought it was a novelty.-

Lavellan blinked heavily, looking at her questioningly.

-I'm just surprised!- Cassandra complained. -The fact that he realized it first is worrying, though, since he's less perceptive than an earless bronto.- she added, frowning.

-I could tell he liked me, I'm not an idiot. I just... didn't think we'd both fall for it like this.- Lavellan pointed out, lowering her gaze to the ground.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, then pinched her arm, forcing her to concentrate. -What are you going to do?-

-Why do you think I'm here?- Lavellan protested, massaging her injured side.

Cassandra opened her eyes wide. -You want help... from me?- she asked, pointing to herself. -Are you really, really sure?-

Lavellan shrugged. -At this point I'm not really sure of anything, lethallin.- she whispered. -I just know it's a bad idea, for both of us. I have no idea who he is, and he has no idea who I am.-

-You're people who have suffered a great deal and lost far too many pieces along the way.- replied Cassandra, tucking a lock behind Lavellan's ear. -But your hearts are both in the right place, Lav, that's enough of a good reason to give it a go.-

Lavellan hid her face between her hands. -So should I give this thing a chance? Wouldn't it be better to suffocate it before it's too late?-

-If you want my honest opinion, this might even be mutually beneficial.- Cassandra admitted, giving her a reassuring smile. -There's only one problem: you're dealing with a total fool. One of those blessed with a seal of quality. If you want to get into a relationship with him, you'll have to be the one to make the first move.-

Lavellan gave her an eloquent look. -Do you really want to push me into the arms of such a person?-

Cassandra nodded knowingly. -I'm not the one who fell in love with him.- she poked her.

Lavellan groaned, moving closer to rest her forehead on her shoulder.

*

Cullen finished putting away the last book he owned on the shelf behind his desk, then stepped back to admire the work he had just completed. Despite the very few belongings he had managed to salvage from Haven, furnishing his new office took him half an afternoon. A spark of self-satisfaction appeared in his gaze, but it didn't last long, as it was only the first step of a really rough journey.

He raised his head towards the great owl that hovered above the room, watching over it with large round eyes, and immediately he was reminded of what Cassandra had told him the day before, that she had found Lavellan in the snow by following an owl. At first, he merely assimilated the news with scepticism, then he began to pay attention to the numerous owl statues that swarmed Skyhold, finding himself pondering whether the elven legend that saw the goddess Andruil use those winged messengers to show her people the best way forward was really true.

Cassandra had followed the owl and found Lavellan, Lavellan had followed the Ways of the Hunter and found Skyhold. Somehow, everything was connected to Andruil and the signs were so obvious that they were beginning to acquire a certain legitimacy.

For a mind unaccustomed to recognising the validity of a religion that the Chantry was constantly repeating how depraved it was, it was definitely destabilising to even remotely consider the value of elven symbolism. Eventually informing himself, or reading a tome on the matter out of sheer curiosity, put a great sense of denial into Cullen's heart, but it was vital that he begin to put into practice the implicit promise he had made to Lavellan several weeks earlier.

Confronted with a number of questions without the questioner having the cultural context to formulate them correctly, Solas found himself having to pause his illustration work, leaning out from the scaffolding of his study to give Cullen a look tinged with surprise. -What exactly do you want to know from me, Commander?- he asked him, trying to be polite despite his utter perplexity.

Cullen, severely distressed, opened one arm in a vague direction. -The owls. What are they supposed to represent?- he asked.

Solas placed the brush in the paint pot, cautiously, then descended calmly from the scaffolding. -Messengers, guardians, hunting companions... does it matter? A thousand years have passed since the fall of Arlathan. Many symbols change in meaning as history takes its course, these are no exception.- he said, as he reached him.

-They must have a specific role! There can't be so many discrepancies.-

Solas gave him a penetrating look. -You would be the second person to ask me about this today, Commander.- he revealed. -And, for the second time, I must say that in my opinion you are looking at the wrong Creator.-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -So that owl, these owls, are not Andruil's messengers?-

Solas ran an attentive gaze over him. -I would like to remind you that just because the Inquisitor follows Vir Tanadhal, it certainly doesn't mean she's exclusively devoted to the goddess of the hunt.- he suggested. -The Dalish rely on Creators for guidance in everyday life, in crafts and endeavors. A blacksmith about to forge a shield would entrust June to steady his hand while wearing the Vallaslin of Sylaise, the goddess of the hearth. A job in itself does not define the complexity of the individual who is performing it, it is just a job. Therefore, even if a hunter prays to Andruil in the course of their duty, they can stop relying on her guidance when the hunt is over.- he paused, to allow him to absorb the notion.

-What deity would Lavellan be devoted to, then?-

Solas tightened his eyelids, with skepticism. -You don't really care about our culture, Commander. What you care about is something else, and it has nothing to do with the incidental presence of a nocturnal animal in its natural environment.- he said, using a tone sharper than a razor blade. -Do me a favor, don't pretend to be interested in concepts you are unwilling and unable to understand. It would be unfair to the Inquisitor.-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -Well, mine was harmless curiosity. Causing her to suffer is the least of my intentions.- he defended himself.

-Then go no further than what you believe. Consider that sign a coincidence.-

-What have I done to earn this sudden hostility?-

Despite the composure he displayed, Solas was clearly annoyed by that obstinacy. -You are the legacy of a culture that has wiped out my people and continues to perpetuate stereotypes that portray us as children of the forest. Primitives. You find our culture as fascinating to study as the entrails of a wyvern would be. To Chantry, we are cattle.- he straightened his back, looking at him proudly. -And what matters to you and Cassandra are plain explanations, not what lies behind them, namely the fact that Elves cling to what little is left of their identity because your people are so good at insisting that there's no room for them in Thedas.- he took a deep breath, to regain his temper. -Now, if you don't mind, I have a task to finish.-

Cullen threw up his hands in surrender, quickly taking back a retort. He waited for Solas to ascend the scaffolding, then headed for the great hall of Skyhold, tail between his legs.

He recalled having experienced the same sense of anger and frustration as Solas, in the past, over injustices on a much smaller scale, and wondered how deep the roots of Lavellan's trauma were. It was not too difficult of a concept for him to understand, indeed, but he had no intention of putting his trauma on the same level as that of an entire population. That would have been foolish.

The contrast with Solas, however, raised a legitimate question: was he really willing to assign some validity to a religion that was clearly at odds with his own, or was it something he was doing for superficial reasons?

Defeated, he made his way towards the war room, but changed his mind at the last moment, preferring to continue down the nave, where the entrance to the Inquisitor's chambers was located. After Solas had attacked him like that, he felt pervaded by an atavistic insecurity, but at the same time he was certain that his intentions were in the right place.

He opened the door, moved several steps along the corridor leading to the upper floors, but was immediately stopped by a red-haired Elf holding a lectern.

He recognised him immediately, for he had delivered a message to him many months before, at Haven. This time, however, he was wearing less sumptuous robes, while still maintaining an aura of austerity.

-Good morning, Commander.- he greeted him.

He had a particularly grave voice, inconsistent with his youthful appearance. Cullen remembered that detail well, yet he couldn't help being surprised again by that particular contrast. -Shaan. You're back.- he observed.

-I told you I'd be back if there was a real need.- his interlocutor replied, before giving him a brief, composed smile. -The Inquisitor is not in her chambers.- he added, intuiting the reason for his presence there.

Cullen squared Shaan from head to toe, looking doubtful. -Where can I find her?-

-Just a moment, Commander.- the other blocked him, retrieving from his pocket a pad of papers sewn together to consult it. -All right, you are allowed to know it.- he said, then gave him a nod. -Follow me, I was just going to the undercroft to solicit her.-

Without being able to respond, Cullen had to hurry after the new secretary, who was moving as fast as a ferret intoxicated with ginseng root extract. -It's not urgent.- he tried to say, but the other had already sprinted forward, to hold the door leading to the undercroft open for him.

-After you.- it was suggested.

Cullen hesitated for a moment, then stepped over his guide, facing the steep descent of stairs that led past the entrance to a clearing overlooking a waterfall.

Once over there, Master Harrit greeted him with a nod as he plunged a glowing blade into a wooden basin filled with water. -I just sent one of your messengers back with the metal inventory, ser.- he told him.

-He's here for the Inquisitor.- clarified the secretary, anticipating a reply from Cullen, who looked visibly tired of being treated like the tail end of a tuxedo.

Harrit rested the blade on an anvil, retrieving a hammer from a neighboring table. -We're all here for the Inquisitor, after all.- he said, then delivered a precise blow on the metal.

The secretary moved through the environment, reaching a work table located close enough to the waterfall that a light shower of splashes could be felt.

There, Levellan stood with her back turned, her hair tied in a disheveled bun and a leather apron wrapped around her. Her gaze, covered by thick protective goggles, was focused on observing a glowing blue orb, while the fingers of her right hand were moving swiftly around a screwdriver.

Cullen lingered observing her, with a streak of indecision in his facial expression. He wondered if it had been a good idea to show up at her place without a reason, a callous curiosity and, above all, after being reprimanded for not caring about anything other than a woman devoid of her cultural identity.

-Inquisitor.- Shaan greeted her, stepping closer.

-Aneth ara. Garas quenathra?- muttered Lavellan, placing the screwdriver on the table as she turned in his direction.

Her secretary cleared his throat, then pointed to a spot behind her with a nod of his head. Lavellan slipped off her glasses, giving Cullen a smile at first, then a confused look. -Am I late for council?-

-You are late for seven appointments, but not for council.- Shaan replied, watching her with eyes full of resignation. -The comtesse's maid told me that her mistress is very unhappy with the wait.-

-Can't Josephine take care of it?-

-The Ambassador has taken care of the comtesse sufficiently for today. I had her deliver a slice of cake and a glass of sparkling wine on your behalf, releasing her from her duties and assuring her that you would listen to the comtesse's complaints as soon as possible.-

-I'll deal with the comtesse's concerns later. This is more important.- replied Lavellan, taking off her apron to place it on the table. -Can you do a parabolic throw?- she asked, addressing Cullen.

The latter, who had been lost in the details of her Vallaslin for a moment, blinked. -It's not that difficult.- he said.

-You heard that, Master Harrit? "It's not that difficult".- Lavellan said. The blacksmith expelled a grunt of disapproval from under his mustache, continuing his work with an irritated air.

Lavellan walked over, placed the blue orb in Cullen's hands, then retrieved her bow quickly, nocking an arrow. -Throw it directly at the waterfall, there.- she pointed.

Cullen weighed the object, then did as he was asked. Lavellan fired a few moments later, hitting it. The sphere shattered, generating a small core of ice thorns that hung midair for a moment before being swept downstream by the rush of water.

-Fenedhis lasa!- blurted Lavellan, stamping one foot on the ground in frustration.

Cullen, who had instinctively covered his face with his forearm, mistakenly expecting a splinter shower, looked at the waterfall with a disappointed air. -Was that a mine?- he asked.

-A bomb.- Lavellan corrected him, seriously irritated. -I can't figure out exactly what I'm doing wrong. The proportions of the essences are balanced, the trigger is perfect...- she interrupted herself, realizing she was the only one interested in the subject. -Were you looking for me for a particular reason, or do you want to blame me for being late for something as well?- she asked, as she placed the bow on the ground.

Cullen puffed out his cheeks, blowing out a breath to stall. -No reason.- he lied. -I was in the vicinity purely by chance and thought I'd come to check up on you. Since your investiture we have only seen each other at meetings. -

The secretary lifted his gaze from the lectern, glancing surreptitiously at the man for a few moments, before returning to rearranging his employer's schedule with the air of someone who got it all.

-Oh, well.- Lavellan shoved her hands into her trouser pockets, moving one step closer to her interlocutor. -Everything's fine I'd say, comtesse excluded. Now I even have a walk-in wardrobe as big as Leliana's.- she joked, turning around to show off her new outfit: a brown and matte green suit. -I didn't think there was a distinction between indoor and outdoor clothing. Before, I used to throw the cloak over my shoulders praying it wouldn't rain. -

-You're telling someone who has lived in an uniform for twenty years.-

Lavellan uncovered her teeth in a mischievous smile. -Oh, come on! Indulge me in some little vanity, in between dangers.- she complained.

Cullen returned the smile. -Don't get me wrong, I was just saying that I'm not the best person to discuss fashion. If you ever had to ask me for an opinion on a dress, I'd tell you it's gorgeous just because you're the one wearing it.-

When he realized he had been too reckless, he moved his head elsewhere, pretending to be interested in something else. -Owls. There are owls here too.- he muttered, pointing to a small, white silhouette inside a crevice in the wall to his left.

Lavellan cleared her throat, clutching at the rambling speech to remove him from embarrassment. -That's a barn owl.- she pointed out. -They’re real pros at catching mice.-

-Whoever stuffed it did a very good job.-

Lavellan barely held back a laugh. -Don't insult him, he's just sleeping.-

-Oh.-

-He was here even before we arrived.- Harrit intervened, continuing to work. -The Inquisitor convinced me I don't know how to leave him alone. If shields are covered in feces, you know who you have to blame.-

Lavellan shrugged. -Cats don't venture down here, it helps to have an expert. It saved us from spending the entire week setting traps in every corner, as we did in the stables.- she explained.

-By the way, let me remind you that you have to take care of that bat nest in the dungeon before nightfall.- Shaan said.

Lavellan rolled her eyes, then gave Cullen a tired look. He replied with a pulled smile. -You know where to find me, in case you need sanctuary.- he murmured.

-He'd find me and make me read all the maintenance reports he finds in his path.- she protested, disgruntled.

-You took me in to work for you for this exact purpose.- the secretary intervened, unperturbed. -You have an appointment with the Great Enchantress in less than five minutes. Sort out your stuff and get your hair in order.-

Cullen bowed his head politely, taking his leave. -Your Worship.- he said, giving an accent of complicity to the smile he couldn't stop wearing.

Lavellan, who was untying her hair, did exactly the same. -Commander.- she replied, amused. She waited until he was gone, then giggled to herself, shaking her head.

-You know it's all in your hands, right?- Shaan suggested, giving her an eloquent look.

She shrugged, twirling the hair clip between her fingers absentmindedly. -When it happens, it happens.- she murmured. -For now, this will do.-

*

The melody played by Zither!, who was standing on a box in the exact center of the garden gazebo, was complex and at times scratchy.

Lavellan and Solas, who had found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, watched the virtuoso's performance with a confused air, while he was plucking the strings of his lute with enthusiasm.

They were sitting on two upturned crock pots, undecided whether to make an excuse and leave, or to continue getting their ears hammered to filth to avoid offending the artist.

-Here's the solo!- the latter announced, then leaned back slightly as the fingers of his left hand moved frantically over the neck of the instrument.

After exactly three minutes of chaotic melody, Zither! stepped towards his audience, tapping his foot in rhythm. -The acoustics here are perfect.- he said, performing a difficult arpeggio.

-Yep, perfect.- Lavellan repeated, displaying a very forced smile. Solas gave her an amused look, then applauded in a composed manner.

-No, no, it's not over yet!- Zither! groaned, continuing to play after a short pause. -Here, wait...- he played exactly four notes, then opened his arms, looking satisfied.

Lavellan hesitated for a second, then clapped along.

Zither! bowed to his audience, twice, then leapt down from the crate. -So, what do you think?- he asked, as Lavellan got up to stretch her back.

-Very... avant-garde.- she replied, not knowing how else to describe the kind of music she had just heard.

Zither! pointed at her emphatically, while his eyes behind the mask sparked with gratification. -I knew you were a gourmand, Inquisitor!- he said. -When I get back gracing the stages of Orlais, I'll dedicate an entire concert to you.-

Lavellan cracked a smile over a contrite expression. -I will be in the front row, near the fire exit.- she said, shaking her fist in victory. -Keep it up, tiger!-

Zither! mimicked taking off the proverbial hat, then trotted cheerfully towards the exit.

Solas waited until he was far away before massaging his ears. Lavellan chuckled. -Who was that?- she asked, in elvhen.

-I thought you knew. He’s one of Captain Rylen’s new agents.- Solas explained, changing language in turn. He stood up, to put the pots away. -He arrived in the morning, together with Hall and Neria.-

Lavellan helped him. -There's a lot of new people.- she said, once they had finished. -So many that it's difficult to walk from one point to another in Skyhold without anyone stopping me to introduce themselves.-

-Sounds exhausting.-

-On the contrary! - she exclaimed, reaching the gazebo again. -How is it going with the rotunda, though? -she asked him.

Solas gave her an amused look. -Good, even though unlike you, I don't enjoy distractions too much.- he admitted.

Lavellan patted him on the arm. -You could have just told her, or sent her over to me.- she reprimanded him.

-Isn't that what they did, after I scolded them?-

She looked at him with a spark of curiosity. -Why you're using plural?-

Solas paused to observe her, as if in his head he was choosing the right words to express. -I guess I was wrong.- he commented, frowning.

-That's new.-

He chuckled, then laid a hand on her shoulder. -See you tomorrow, lethallin.- he greeted her, moving towards the exit.

She nodded to him, refraining from asking for an explanation. -I will be at the usual place: at the undercroft. To show off my incapacity.- she said, following him with her gaze.

Gaze that immediately landed on the door leading to the shrine dedicated to Andraste, in front of which Cullen and Ser Darrow were holding a conversation.

Lavellan smiled instinctively, as she used to do whenever she caught sight of the Commander's profile. She noticed that he was in his shirtsleeves, a sign that he was fresh from a training session, or one of the fencing duels he usually had in the evenings with Blackwall and the Bull. The fact that he bore no signs of fatigue, however, made her assume that it had been a short fight, from which he had emerged victorious.

She waited until he became aware of her presence before raising a hand in greeting. As it happened to her, who relied on pretexts to speak to him, Cullen didn't hesitate for a moment to dismiss his subordinate and join her.

-Who did you beat up this time?- Lavellan asked him, reproachfully, once within earshot.

Cullen, after he had positioned himself in front of her, rested his forearm on the hilt of his sword, assuming a relaxed pose. He glanced at his interlocutor with amusem*nt. -No one. I refereed a dispute between officers.- he explained. At Lavellan's puzzled expression, he hastened to elaborate. -It means they had a few things to clear up and preferred to play it out through fencing rather than continuing to bicker in front of the troops. It's healthy competition. Cathartic for them, who were able to blow off steam, and great for soldiers, who were able to distract themselves with a bit of cheering.-

Lavellan exhaled a dreamy sigh. -Sounds fun. Please invite me next time. At least I'd have a good excuse to skip discussions with the nobles of the valley.-

Cullen chuckled, moving a step in her direction. -Let's face it, you'd only come to watch me get punched.- he poked her, tilting his head to meet her gaze. -Actually, I think you'd be capable of participating to punch me yourself, but I don't think it would be a fair fight.-

Lavellan brushed him off with a laconic glance. -Do you really think you stand a chance against me?-

-More than one, yes. I've seen the way you hold a sword.- he gave her a contemptuous smile. -You have terrible posture.-

She stepped forward to face him. She ran her gaze over his face, pausing to watch his lips curve ever more. -Why do we have to follow the usual rules? We could leave our weapons behind.- she looked him straight in the eye. -You wouldn't know it, but I'm exceptional in close quarter combat.-

Cullen arched an eyebrow. -Yeah?-

Lavellan retrieved the lace fastening his shirt and twisted it between her fingers. -I'm particularly flexible.- she admitted, in a whisper.

-It takes a very firm grip to lock me in place.- he warned her, resting his gaze on her lips in turn. -I'd nail you to the floor and never let you go.-

Lavellan felt her heartbeat quicken.

She knew she should have answered him straight out, which was what her brain was telling her to do, but she found herself fighting hard against the urge to devour him with kisses.

For her, that face was comparable to the sky unraveling after a tremendous lightning storm. In it coexisted relief and melancholy, capable of giving her a great sense of belonging.

She slowly exhaled the breath she had instinctively found herself holding, because at that distance it was very difficult to maintain control.

Everyone told her that she would have to make the first move and that was definitely an ideal situation. Yet something in Cullen's attitude was blocking her. For the first time, she felt the need to put her own needs on the back burner, seeking confirmation in the gaze of the person she had fallen in love with. She didn't want to act without first clarifying the situation with him and that confirmed to her that her intentions towards the man were incredibly serious.

Her body reacted to the idea by releasing an excessive amount of heat, which dyed her cheeks with embarrassment.

-I'm getting better. I've shushed you.- he commented, laughing softly.

Lavellan laughed in turn, glad that his intervention had interrupted her thoughts. -For the second time in one day. It's an unimpeachable achievement!- she admitted, letting him enjoy that ridiculous victory.

Cullen's gaze tinged with satisfaction as he shortened the distance again. -If this was really a competition, I'd still be a few steps from the starting line.- he murmured, resting a hand on her hip as he leaned in to kiss her.

-That would be a dumb competition.- she admitted, feeling the warmth of his breath on her lips, prompting her to close her eyes. -Cullen, we should...-

-Quisi! Quisi! Quisi!-

Cullen suddenly recoiled, as did Lavellan, disoriented by that abrupt change of atmosphere.

Dagna was running in their direction, her head and shoulders covered in a thin coating of ice. After reaching them, she directed a full smile at them both, then grabbed Lavellan's arm, enthusiastically. -It works! - she exclaimed, hopping on the spot.

Lavellan blinked, still dazed, until her head functionally correlated with the external environment again. Then, she squeezed Dagna's shoulders between her fingers, leaning over to look her straight in the eyes. -How big is the radius of the explosion?-

-Three meters. Just by increasing the tank diameter by one millimetre.-

It took Lavellan a few moments to channel the news, then she began to hop along with the arcanist, eventually taking her face in her hands and pressing a kiss to her forehead. -You are absolutely brilliant!- she said, then turned back to Cullen. -She's brilliant, I say!- she repeated, pointing at her emphatically.

He did his best to hold back a disappointed expression, displaying a tense smile in response.

-I built another one on the fly, Sera is waiting for us to try it out.- said Dagna, pulling away and motioning Lavellan to follow her.

-Go ahead, I'll be right behind you.- the other said, straightening up to regain height. She turned back to Cullen, with sheer contentment on her features. -All it took was to increase the diameter of the tank. Can you imagine? And they dare to say that the Artificer's job is not impressive.- she bent her gaze to the ground. -Just a millimetre.- she reiterated, softly.

Cullen nodded slowly, half-heartedly. -Do things change so much in such a small amount of space?-

-An infinity, actually, if you think that for Nevarrian scholars every material is composed of microscopic fragments of matter. Actually...- she paused, biting her lip to stop herself from projecting a discourse on alchemy at him. -The timing, huh?- she commented instead.

He gave her a half smile, then shifted his gaze elsewhere. -I think you're right. We should talk before we find ourselves in a situation like this again.- he admitted, looking distressed.

Lavellan retracted her head slightly, impressed. -So telepathy does exist.- she murmured.

Cullen chuckled. -You said that right before...- he pointed to himself and her, quickly, then his face took on a shade of seriousness. -Come to my office as soon as you can. I would like to discuss something with you before the next meeting.- he took a deep breath, ridding his expressiveness of all emotion. -It's important.-

Lavellan lingered to watch him, looking worried, then gave a nod of assent. -I'd have a twenty-minute gap tonight, after our interview with Josephine and Comtesse De Fourier. Would that be alright?-

He pondered for a few moments. -That would be fine.- he admitted, lowering his tone of voice slightly. -Would that be fine with you?-

Lavellan took a step back. -I was the one who suggested it.-

-Ah, right.-

They exchanged a look soaked with unexpressed words, then a faint smile.

*

A curious peacefulness was reigning in the Inquisitor's rooms, despite the chatty nature of those present.

Lavellan was sitting at her desk, holding up a mirror so that Dorian could check the trimming job he was doing on the ends of her wet hair. In truth, it was an almost useless action, since he could easily see what he was doing just by moving around, but Lavellan had asked him how she would be of help and he could find nothing better to suggest.

Cassandra, who was seated on the opposite side of the table, took advantage of the stillness of the mirror and finished her eye make-up with ease, then carefully placed the blending brush back into its case. -Can I borrow some lip dye, Lav?- she asked.

Lavellan nodded, distractedly.

Cassandra uncovered a light blue, finely decorated box, raising an eyebrow as she noticed an exaggerated amount of products inside.

Dorian paused for a moment, his attention having been caught in turn by that excess.

-They were given to me by a travelling orlesian merchant.- Lavellan explained, without putting much enthusiasm into her words. -There are ten different shades of red for lips, but I can't distinguish a single one of them.- she admitted.

Cassandra lined up a series of small painted boxes on the desk, then did the same with some flasks and powder boxes, until the products were all sorted by height and function. -There's no neutral pink whatsoever.- she muttered, glancing in the backlight at a flask that looked like a phylactery.

-Avoid that one like the plague.- Dorian intervened, laying the scissors gently on a folded cloth. -The only person in here who would look good in a primary red is Leliana.-

-Eh, maybe not so much.- commented Cassandra, staining her forefinger to try the dye on the back of her hand. She showed it to them. -I find it a little vulgar. What do you think, Lav?-

Lavellan, who was clearly distracted, raised a confused look in her direction.

Dorian gave her a dirty look. -She just told you she can't distinguish reds, and you ask her advice about red?-

Cassandra puffed audibly, wiping her hand with a handkerchief. -Even if she sees the world on a scale of yellow, she can tell if something is vulgar or not.-

-I don't see the world in yellow. Your eyes describe space differently from mine, simple as that.-

-So you don't see us green.-

-For the hundredth time, no. I don't even know what you mean by green.- protested Lavellan, shrugging. -There, that is something about which we'll never understand each other.-

Dorian turned a smirk on her. -Funny how you can easily explain complex concepts in a few words, yet you can't make us understand what colors you see the world in.-

-Fortunately, we have black and white in common.- Cassandra joined in, tapping her index finger on her lower lip to distribute the color so that it would look natural. -Although Solas claims that pure black and white do not exist in nature.-

-Solas is not a source of unconditional truth.- Dorian said, motioning for her to replace him.

Cassandra finished applying the dye and moved quickly to Lavellan's shoulders, dividing the lock above the left shave into three small sections. -How do you want the braid? Like mine, as usual?- she asked.

Lavellan remained silent, observing her own image in the mirror for a long time before realizing that her opinion was required. -Yes?-

-How do you want the braid? - Cassandra repeated, passing a worried look over her.

-Like yours, as usual.- Lavellan replied, giving her a brief smile.

Dorian took a seat at the other end of the table, rearranging the cosmetics. He quickly set aside a couple of powders for himself, placing them next to the ones Cassandra had grabbed. -You're way out of sorts today, Ankh. What's on your mind?- he asked.

Lavellan sat in silence for a long time, frowning, then exhaled an annoyed wheeze from her nostrils. -A private matter.- she replied.

Cassandra fastened the braid with two turns of the string, making sure the closing was solid, before retrieving the mirror from Lavellan's hands to show her the result. -It's private indeed, but we both know about it.- she revealed to her.

Dorian crossed his arms over the surface of the desk. -Are you referring to the half-kiss he gave her the other day?- he asked, amused. At Cassandra's surprised expression, he found himself having to reconsider. -What exactly are we talking about?- he hastened to correct himself.

Cassandra put the mirror down, having realized it would be of no use. -About the fact that the Commander had stopped taking lyrium.- she clarified.

Dorian nodded. -Then I understand the source of your concern. It's a commendable decision, but getting out of it requires considerable character effort.-

Lavellan immediately adopted the same expression of firm austerity she used to take whenever she had to consider an important decision. -Could it kill him?- she asked.

Dorian shrugged slightly, his forehead furrowed. -He could go mad.- he replied, bluntly.

-It depends, Lav. This is no man's land.- Cassandra corrected him, gazing blankly at the clear sky beyond the screen doors. -Everything is known about the prolonged intake of lyrium and the physical and psychological consequences it entails. Unfortunately, there are few testimonies about the successes of its cession of use.-

-The problem is that, like all substances that boast magical properties, the effects of lyrium linger in the body of those who take it even after quitting. Total detoxification is impossible.- articulated Dorian, opening a hand towards Lavellan. -To give you a practical example, if you had a finger removed you would continue to use your hand. You would have limitations, not major ones, and with time you would get used to its absence, but there’s an incredibly high possibility that you would continue to feel pain in the missing finger.-

Cassandra turned just slightly. -Cullen is a determined and, above all, disciplined man. He's managing the situation in the best possible way.-

-I do not dispute that.- Lavellan said. -But I have no idea what said situation is. If lyrium can't be completely removed from his body, it means it will remain in his blood to torture him for the rest of his days.-

Cassandra nodded. -The spiritual abilities that come from taking it disappear within a year, especially if they are used constantly. Lyrium, however, is not just a fuel, it's a substance that slowly takes over your body and mind, strengthening and weakening you at the same time. That's the reason why the Chantry controls the doses and allocates a stockpile of lyrium should a Templar reach retirement. If the supply runs out, or if too much time passes between each dose...- she interrupted herself. -Do you really want to know?-

Lavellan shot her an eloquent look, prompting Cassandra to continue.

-During the first few months, you completely lose control of your body and your surroundings. Your mind presents you with paranoia, delusions, hallucinations and abrupt changes of mood. Headaches are continuous. Feverish headaches, so intense that they prevent you from thinking straight for too long.- she explained.

Dorian's face contracted into a grimace of annoyance, but Lavellan remained impassive. -Months, you said?- she asked.

Cassandra hesitated. -All Templars of my acquaintance who tried before him didn't make it past the ninth month, then had to start taking it back, with catastrophic results.- she replied. -The others went mad.-

-Consider that such an eventuality would happen even if he continued taking it.- Dorian added, determined to not sugarcoat the situation.

Lavellan ran a hand over her forehead, then exhaled a nervous breath. -He told me you're keeping an eye on him. Is that so?-

Cassandra nodded.

-From now on, share your thoughts with me. All of them. Especially the ones I don't want to hear.- Lavellan declared, giving her a look that allowed no excuses. -If he's struggling, I want to be able to help him.-

Cassandra extended a kind smile to her. -I told you, he's holding his own.- she reassured her. -But he could use the extra help.-

-Since you haven't really asked me anything, if you came by the library later, I could help you look for a couple of books on the topic.- Dorian intervened, checking his fingernails as he pretended not to care. -So, in case you have any questions about the arcane aspects of it, I could guide you through the text.-

Lavellan passed a glance stained with gratitude on his face. -That would be perfect, thank you.-

Dorian shrugged. -Just know that I’m doing this out of friendship, for you. I'm not sure if the Commander wants to kick me out or murder me in my sleep.-

Cassandra arched an eyebrow. -But you two always play Fereldian chess together!-

-I do a lot of things that aren't good for my health.- replied Dorian, placidly. -That man is about as interesting as a trampled blade of grass, but he's a person who shakes my hand when he wins to congratulate me on the game, and doesn't threaten to smash a bottle over my head when he loses.- he sighed. -When everyone considers you the personification of pure evil, you have to settle for the least worst option.-

-Thanks for your consideration.- commented Lavellan.

-You silly, it's obvious you weren't included!- Dorian reprimanded her, throwing a powder compact at her, which she intercepted in time before it hit her forehead. -Next time, cut off your split ends by yourself!-

Cassandra raised a regret-stained glance, while approaching him. -I've held my doubts about you for a long time, but from the way you behaved at Haven and the Coast...-

-Don't you dare to even start!- he protested, rising to his feet as he began to chase that incipit away with nervous gestures. -One sappy speech a day is enough!-

Cassandra exhaled a hoarse laugh, shaking her head. -Fine, I'll apologize properly another day. For now, just know that you have my respect, Dorian, and if anyone ever wants to smash a bottle over your head, come to me. I'll turn them around like a glove.-

He shot a satisfied look at Lavellan. -See, sooner or later even the most stubborn individuals bend to my exotic charms.- he said, causing Cassandra to roll her eyes.

Lavellan directed a grateful smile at them both, then stood up in turn. -So, no pillaging today?- she asked, much more relaxed.

Dorian and Cassandra cast her an evocative glance, then they both trotted over to her new wardrobe, without deigning to give her an answer.

*

They almost collided, on the threshold of Josephine's office.

Lavellan quickly retrieved Cullen's folder, which was falling to the floor; something he was about to do himself. There was a moment of stalemate, but in reality it was a succession of half-hearted gestures. From the perspective of an outside observer, it almost seemed as if two birds were flapping their wings during a territorial dispute.

So Lavellan took a step back, lifting one hand to separate them and the other to hold the folder away in order to secure it. -I got it.- she said.

Cullen suddenly stopped, gave a nod, then relaxed his posture. -Thanks.- he replied, dryly. He then glanced summarily at her as she returned the object to him and began to move towards the war room.

Lavellan, however, prevented him from going any further, stepping in front of him. -Can I have two minutes of your time?- she asked him, quietly.

Cullen, who was anything but quiet, took a while to answer. -Of course, Inquisitor.- he said, displaying perfect composure.

They remained silent for a while, shuffling frequently as the stream of scouts and messengers flowed from the war room to the main hall, then she placed a hand on his arm, leading him down the stairs to the basem*nt. In order to have the bare minimum of privacy, they positioned themselves in the half-light anticipating the descent, facing each other, but when they were surprised again by the hustle and bustle of people flowing from the bottom to the top and back, she decided to move over again.

-Maker’s breath, is it possible to have a word in private without being interrupted at least a hundred times?- he protested, genuinely annoyed by that relocation in full swing.

Lavellan exhaled a little laugh. -Looks like we have to get used to it.- she replied, anticipating him to the cellars, usually empty at that hour. She waited for him to enter, then closed the door behind them, to avoid being disturbed.

Once they were alone, with Skyhold's noises muffled by the naked rock, they exchanged a glance that was speckled with just a little relief.

Cullen, however, quickly let it slip out of his grasp and rested his gaze on a flask of Dolcino of Rialto, concentrating on the label so as to avoid being caught up in the nervousness. That was at least how his attitude was understood by Lavellan, who didn't mind being put in the background if it comforted her interlocutor.

-I think you've already figured it out that I would like to get back to what we discussed last night.- she said, shortening the distance a little.

Cullen frowned. -I was hoping you wouldn't.- he admitted.

-Well, I'm not going to remove or add anything from the conversation, you can rest assured of that.- Lavellan stated, retrieving a small box from her pockets. -I've been thinking about it and I may have something that might be useful to you.- she said, handing it to him.

Before indulging her, Cullen shifted his gaze to her face, in search of something he was sure he would find. When he had confirmed her theory, his features contracted into a grimace of annoyance, mixed with disappointment. -Causing you to lose sleep over my problems was the least of my intentions.-

-You know, it happens when you find out that someone you care for is going through a difficult time.- she said, smiling kindly at him. She took his hands and placed the box on his palms. -See if you can find any use for it.-

Cullen's eyes lingered on her face, before shifting their attention to the item. He opened the box and pulled out a wooden toy, consisting of two pyramids whose bases matched unevenly. He looked at it for a long time, noting that each face of the solids had a possibility of movement, so they could be combined to create different shapes.

-It's an elven puzzle. I use it when I'm thinking so much that my brain matter starts to slip out of my ears.- Lavellan explained, moving closer to show him how it worked. -It helps me prioritize certain thoughts.-

Cullen watched her move the pieces according to a logic only she understood, fascinated.

-These are ancient games, I don't even know if they came from Arlathan or Tevinter. Maybe they were devised in a later period, who knows.- Lavellan continued. -This one, in particular, is solved when one manages to form a parallelepiped by combining the solids that compose it.- she paused, to allow him to familiarize with the game. -In twenty years, I never managed to solve it.-

Cullen looked at her in confusion. -And you think I could do it?-

-No, because it's impossible.-

-Excuse me?-

-Elven puzzles have no solution. These are games Keepers give children to keep them busy.- elaborated Lavellan, addressing him with a smirk. -When things get too difficult, concentrating on something like this makes it all go away.-

Once the point was made, Cullen relaxed his forehead. -You're giving me something to do when...- he paused mid-sentence, in doubt whether to reveal any more details of his condition or not.

-I'm giving you a simple diversion, lethallan.- she said, running a hand over his arm to reassure him. -Ironically, using it tonight to unravel my thoughts brought me here and now.- she paused, to smile at him again. -I guess overthinking is a problem we have in common. Since it works for me, I thought it might work for you, too.-

Cullen released a faint laugh. -Maybe, yes, but I don't want to take something good away from you in order to...- he pointed to himself, instinctively cutting off a sentence for the second time.

-To feel good yourself? - she guided him. She took her time to give him a gentle answer, instead of accusing him of fussing over a simple act of kindness. She slipped the puzzle back inside its box, then placed Cullen's hands onto it. -I'm giving it to you precisely because it has such value to me. I know you don't think it's worth it, so I felt it was necessary to have someone there to contradict you.- she said, wrapping her fingers around his.

Cullen described her face with guilty eyes, while his entire physique seemed to refuse to acknowledge that favor too weighty to be assimilated as such. Lavellan herself was an unwieldy presence and she was aware of it, as she could clearly perceive the combination of comfort and rejection emanating from her interlocutor's gaze. He was in a crisis and he couldn't hide it, because giving help is easier than receiving it and this was another of a thousand things they had in common.

-What are you thinking?- she asked him, simply.

-I ruined everything.- was the sincere answer.

-You didn't.- she declared, trying to give him clarity instead of comfort. -Nothing has changed between us. We have always taken care of each other because we are a team. A family. Whether you need it or not, I'm here for you.- she elaborated, flicking her thumb over the back of his hand. -Besides, you know I'm incapable of minding my own business.- she added, to downplay.

It took Cullen a while to get those notions through the thick layer of defenses he had put up around himself. When they finally reached him, they manifested themselves on his face in the form of a subtle tinge of relief. -You're the Inquisitor, Lavellan, meddling in other people's business is part of your job requirements.- he said, forcing himself to humor her. -Thanks for the thought.- he concluded, giving her an apologetic smile.

Lavellan lifted herself just slightly on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek, dangerously close to the outer corner of his lips. It was something she had wanted to do for days, possibly months, but had always refused to get too close. At that moment, more than ever, she knew he was the one who had to dictate the rules in case they decided to go further. There was too much confusion in his head, and involving him in an equally confusing business like love would have done him no good.

She settled for holding his scent in her nostrils (a combination of shaving cream and essence of electricity) as a trophy of participation, registering his uncertain reaction with a touch of satisfaction.

-That should take your thoughts away. And I even used simple words in my explanation!- she poked him, releasing the grip on his hands to give him some space.

Cullen exhaled a genuine laugh. -You're impossible to please!- he protested, placing the gift safely in his pocket.

Lavellan smirked at him. -Actually, I'm kinda someone who’s very easy to please.- she corrected him, opening the cellar door to provide him with an escape route.

He jumped at the chance to distance himself from the conversation, albeit maintaining a certain degree of composure. In fact, he extended a hand outwards, allowing her to anticipate him. -I wouldn't believe it even if the Maker himself told me so.- he said.

They made their way to the war room, without suffering too much from the silence that had naturally arisen between them as a consequence of the heavy interaction they had just had. Once there, they joined Josephine and Leliana in the discussion they were having.

-Welcome.- the latter greeted them, dwelling with an amused look on Cullen's cheek. He replied with a simple gesture.

-So, what does the chef have for us today?- asked Lavellan, clapping once and then turning the gesture into a brief rubbing of the palms of her hands. -Murder? Pillaging? Demons? Pie?-

Josephine, who had been distractedly observing Cullen's face in turn, immediately retrieved the agenda sheet, to quote from it.

Leliana seemed to be in particularly good spirits, alternating descriptive glances at the newcomers with enigmatic smiles. Lavellan feigned exemplary seriousness, concentrating on the meeting until Josephine had had enough and her big sister instincts got the better of her.

-What?- Cullen asked, watching her set the lectern down on the table to replace it with an embroidered handkerchief.

Josephine grabbed his chin between her fingers in a firm gesture, licked a flap of the handkerchief and began rubbing it across his cheek roughly.

-Ew! What the bloody...!?- Cullen complained, trying to wriggle out of it.

-Stay still! - Josephine said, while at the other end of the table Lavellan gave in to amusem*nt and started giggling, followed closely by Leliana.

-What got into you? You hurt me!- Cullen gasped, stroking his cheek, flushed from the maneuver.

With a resigned air, Josephine showed him her handkerchief, stained the same color as Lavellan's lip dye. -You're welcome.- she said, brusquely, then tucked the handkerchief into the sleeve of her frock.

It took Cullen a moment to realize the situation, and when he did, his gaze inevitably fell on Lavellan, who was pretending to read a report with a nonchalance that was hardly credible.

-So, you guys had a good morning.- Leliana poked him, without sparing the cheerfulness she had imposed on her voice.

-A very good morning.- Lavellan corrected her, reinforcing the point.

Cullen lowered his head slightly, hiding his gaze in a mixture of embarrassment and resignation. Josephine, who had now decided that her colleague's dignity had become her business, intervened to his rescue. -Let's wrap up the meeting, you harpies!- she snapped, making both of them laugh.

Everything was back to normal, Cullen told himself, comforted by the idea that he had not sealed his end by coming out clean. Seeing his colleagues joking at his expense, without dwelling on inappropriate politeness because of a self-imposed condition, gave him a great sense of peacefulness.

Chapter 11: Mutuality

Chapter Text

When asked 'do you enjoy working with Lavellan?' Cullen's instinctive response was 'I do', even if he was fully aware that his enjoyment wasn’t coming from a professional standpoint only.

The problem occurred upon connecting such a frivolous thought to the realization that he was actually in love with her. This dynamic was already part of him, after all, there wasn’t sense in dwelling too much on it. However, normally in love there are two parties involved, and the object of his feelings had not been consulted on the matter at all.

Two it’s said?

In this instance, the parties involved were multiple, and coexisted in the form of pretexts inside Cullen’s head which, unfortunately, was a tightly sealed container of trauma, remnants of indoctrination, and excuses. Every time he happened to open it, he would stand for exactly one minute, lid between his fingers, gazing at a tangled skein of screaming matter, then he would shut it, hold up his hands in surrender and go back to his business with the expression of someone who had just witnessed the very death of Humanity.

The thought of Lavellan being subjected to that Titan-sized can of worms made him nervous, to put it mildly. Not so much because he believed it would scare her, as he was sure she had seen worse in life. But rather, he was certain that, should she happen to get her hands on his brain, she would crack it open in order to categorize every single issue, forcing him to deal with them one by one, and he abhorred that concept.

-If time allows, let's put them in alphabetical order.-

Cullen blinked, lifting his head to meet Lavellan's gaze.

His body and mind plunged into the present. To the undercroft, precisely, where he had decided to wait around, to supervise the crafting of new training swords.

An excuse, not even remotely convincing, to spend some time in the same ecosystem as Lavellan's.

The latter was working on a rather complex-looking device.

-A locking mechanism for a vault.-

Of which Cullen couldn't care less, as he was focused on something else entirely. He pretended to be interested, just to keep the conversation going, but his attention was raptured by Lavellan's decisive hand movements, and the way she was able to articulate a conversation without losing focus on the job.

-This way, when the lock clicks, one compartment is unlocked but the others remain sealed.-

Cullen was so displaced by the hint of smugness on Lavellan's face that he remained silent for several moments. -Good job.- he complimented her, hastening to react in a way that wouldn't be misinterpreted.

She tilted her head, a smug smile on her face. -Just good?- she replied.

Cullen huffed out a laugh. -Alright, it's brilliant.- he corrected himself.

Lavellan’s tongue clicked on the roof of her mouth. -Much better.- she approved, taking off her work gloves to place them in safety at the side of her project. -How's Ser Scarlett?-

-He's fine.- Cullen replied, without thinking too much about it. However, when he realized that Ser Scarlett was a regular at the undercroft, he felt something stir inside him. -Why?- he asked, suspiciously.

Lavellan seemed to catch that something, addressing it with an amused tone. -It was pour parler. He's usually in charge of equipment, isn't he?-

Cullen's imagination presented him an exaggerated vision of the interactions Ser Scarlett might have had with Lavellan during his visits, offering her virtual bouquets of roses while declaiming sonnets in her name. -You're not wrong.- he said, trying to suppress that senseless jealousy towards one of the soldiers he most respected. -Today I chose to come down myself.-

-If you see him, tell him he owes me a pair of scissors.-

-I'll let him know after tonight's meeting.-

-During practice?-

Cullen nodded.

-Can I ask you something?-

-Anything you want, Inquisitor.- he replied, perceiving a horrifying patheticness in his tone. -Unless it be something extremely improper, or a targeted assassination.- he hastened to add.

Lavellan chuckled. -Nothing like that. For now, at least.- she teased. -I was wondering if you could spare me a half-hour, one of these evenings. Cassandra says I'm completely hopeless at fencing, because I can lose concentration quite easily. I was wondering if you could...- she shrugged. -Give me a hand with that.-

Cullen stared at her at length, with a hint of suspicion. -What are you asking me exactly?-

Lavellan took a deep breath, and immediately assumed a grave expression. She crossed her arms, shifting her gaze elsewhere. -You keep handing me swords and I haven't the faintest idea how to handle myself. When the time comes for me to actually use them as a weapon and not as an ornament...- she looked him straight in the eye. -I would like to be able to get the job done. Effectively.-

Unfortunately for Cullen, the look that was being given to him at that particular moment was the primary reason why his subconscious had led him to automatically trust Lavellan the first time he saw her. That kind of determination was for him like receiving a bucket of cold water in his soul: it washed away excuses and pretexts, confronting him with the urgency of the present.

He rested a hand on her shoulder, maintaining eye contact. -Count on me.- he told her, putting into words the same decision he had been shown.

Lavellan smiled weakly. -Thank you. I realize this is an important... favor. Burdensome, to say the least.-

-Don't mention it.- he replied, releasing her from his grip. -Tomorrow at sunrise, at the dummies behind the Rest. Would that suit you? -

Lavellan opened her arms, raising the palms upwards in an amused expression. -It's a date!- she replied.

Cullen chuckled. -I wish!-

They shared a look of mutual understanding, then he cleared his throat, to escape from a situation in which he would have had a hard time keeping his feet on the ground. He shifted his gaze to Harrit, who was placing the finished training swords inside a basket. That pretext allowed him to gather the fragments of his composure that had slipped under his heels, helping him to stop dwelling on what his instincts were clamoring for. A demand so indulgent that it terrified him.

-Keep up the good work, Inquisitor.- he greeted her, performing a seemingly charming half-smile before he walked away.

-I am not one to settle for a 'good work', Commander.- she hurried to state, increasingly amused. -You should know better.-

Cullen loaded the basket on his shoulders, pretending annoyance. -That's because you're impossible to please.- he scoffed, then turned away for good.

*

Mornings in Skyhold were cold, but mostly sunny.

Somehow, the fortress had been blessed with serene weather and everyone was all too well off, as the sunshine compensated for the cold originated from the constant blowing of the wind. This came from the north, east, south, west, below, above, and to the side. The only variables were the intensity and the degree of cold it brought along.

That was why, the morning of the date, Cullen chose to stow his training gear in the only spot caressed by the pale morning sun.

He yawned audibly as he adjusted his arm guards.

He was used to waking up long before dawn, because when he was still a Templar, services began very early, followed by lyrium consumption.

Skipping that step, which besides being addictive was also habitual, meant that every time he stepped out of bed, his body would start to fight against him. His nose was more sensitive to ugly smells, guaranteeing him perpetual nausea, furthermore his body suffered from an unnerving fatigue and his face was so swollen that if placed side by side with that of a Hurlock who had just been hit in the face with a frying pan, no one would have been able to tell the difference.

Cullen figured that the only way to keep those impediments from disturbing him that morning would have been; first, to wake up three hours earlier, face that routine of ugliness with a slap of freezing water on his face to later spend the rest of the time giving his mirror image dirty looks to convince it to change its mind. Fortunately, such shock therapy worked, allowing him to deal solely with the consequences of some sleep deprivation.

-Hey there, good lookin'!-

Cullen lifted a hand in greeting as Lavellan joined him at the dummies with a cheerful look. She handed him a steaming mug, which he accepted with a grateful expression. -Holy savior of the nation.- he called her, before taking a sip of scalding tea.

Lavellan took off her jacket, had a dummy put it on, then trotted to her teacher's side, wearing a radiant smile.

At that precise moment, Cullen felt any remnants of tiredness slip off his shoulders and told himself it had been worth it to jump out of bed a few hours earlier, if that was the prize. But perhaps the heat he felt on his cheeks was simply the consequence of having just guzzled some scalding tea carelessly.

-So, you never picked up a sword.- he said, replacing the cup with two practice weapons.

-Well, I did, but...-

-Catch!-

Lavellan caught the sword by the grip, in time to prevent it from slipping away. She first gave a surprised look, then a satisfied one.

Cullen checked her from head to toe, attentively. -Try passing it from one hand to the other.- he suggested.

Lavellan did as he requested, at which he shook his head. -Too long, too heavy.- he commented, and then fetched another sword. -This one should fit better.- he said, handing her the replacement. -How does it feel?-

Lavellan weighed it, switching hands several times as instructed earlier. -More manageable, I suppose.- she replied.

-Reach out your arm and keep it outstretched in front of you.-

Cullen waited exactly one minute, watching her carry out that gesture, then gave a quick nod of assent. -Perfect. The tip veers slightly downwards, but that's normal.-

-That's what she said.- Lavellan laughed, finally lowering the blade.

Cullen chuckled. -A sword should be neither too light nor too heavy. It must be proportionate to your body weight, your height, and the reach of your arm.- he explained, moving to her side to compare his weapon to the one Lavellan was holding. -If it weighed too much, you would risk spraining a wrist during parries, also your lunges would be inaccurate.-

-So it's a question of balance.- Lavellan intervened.

-Balance and dexterity.- he specified, showing her the correct way to hold the sword, so that she would imitate him. -A weapon is an inanimate, inflexible object. You are the one who has to move. If you let yourself be ruled by it, you have already lost at the start.- he paused, to stand guard, facing her. Lavellan mimicked him, awkwardly.

Cullen was unable to hold back a smirk, recomposing himself immediately after receiving a dirty look. -Try again.- he encouraged her.

By the third attempt, Lavellan was able to assume an acceptable posture. With a nod, Cullen indicated the position of his legs, slightly bent and fairly spread apart, his right foot pointed towards his opponent. -The winner of a fight is usually the one with the best footwork. Good posture allows you to keep in balance during an assault, but more importantly, it gives you excellent mobility during parries.-

-I’m glad it's not all about muscles.-

-You'd need those too, because even the lightest sword starts to weigh like a boulder after hours of wielding it. But yeah, it's not all about muscles.-

-So, huh, what do I do now?- she asked, puzzled.

-How would your instinct suggest you attack me?-

Lavellan hesitated, then tried an assault: a side slash that Cullen parried easily. They remained in that position for quite a few seconds.

-Now try to solve the problem.- he recommended. Lavellan reflected, then stepped back, trying another assault.

Each time she failed, the suggestion was always the same: -Solve the problem.- followed by a brief correction on her stance.

By watching how Cullen moved and following his directions, Lavellan acquired good mobility, followed closely by a certain level of automaticity that instilled confidence in her approach to the discipline.

After exactly half an hour, Cullen stopped her, instructing her to place her sword on the ground. He showed her how to stretch her arms to relax her muscles proactively. -It's not that difficult, really.- he reassured her, as he massaged her wrist. -You're used to problem-solving. Approach fencing as you’d do with one of your contraptions: a series of mechanical gestures that lead to the achievement of a goal. The moment you encounter an obstacle, try to find a way around it with logic.-

Lavellan gave him an amused look. -You're making it out like it didn't take you years to reach the level of prowess you're at now.-

Cullen laughed. -I'm not grading you at the end of the day. You can stop buttering me up.- he said, picking up his sword from the ground. -Do you have enough already, or do you want to up the game?-

Lavellan gave him an eloquent look, then retrieved her weapon in turn. -Do your worst.- she challenged him.

Cullen, who couldn't ask for more, passed an intrigued glance at her, then resumed practice.

Physical contact was constant, given by corrections and pats of encouragement.

Placing his hands on Lavellan's waist as he showed her the various twists of torso and hip didn't put him off. On the contrary, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, just like when she would rest her fingers on his chest and arms, to avoid falling after getting off balance.

She was an outstanding student, not because she was a quick learner, but because she didn't lack the determination to pick herself up every time she failed. She wasn't a natural for fencing either, yet she actively listened to criticism, implementing corrections without complaining.

After two hours, it was he who had to stop her, as she was beginning to make mistakes due to fatigue - although she was able to mask it well.

He put away the swords, genuinely satisfied with that first training session. A satisfaction shared by his trainee, who showered him with smiles as she helped him tidy up.

She would ask him questions, seek clarification, and seemed genuinely interested in what he had to say. It was something that he rarely found in his trainees and, usually, that turned out to be a way for them to bribe him and get a lighter shift.

-Do you think we can continue? - Lavellan inquired, when it was time to part ways.

Cullen grinned confusedly at her. -I thought that was a given.- he admitted. -Tomorrow at the same time?-

Lavellan's enthusiastic expression burned his retinas and ripped his heart out his chest to throw it over the defensive wall of Skyhold.

-Perfect!- she said, giving him a friendly tap on the arm. The last and umpteenth, but the most painful, for it could have been more.

He thought about it a few days later, during the evening, because if there was something he had a natural talent for, apart from overthinking, it was hitting his head on retroactive revelations.

He would usually experience a sudden epiphany that would drive him to momentary physical stillness, followed by visceral embarrassment. Metaphorically speaking, it was like his memory crashed its forehead against a doorframe that was too low while his stomach was being punched. All this while hitting his little toe on a drawer, in front of an audience composed of all the people he had embarrassed himself with throughout his life.

Professionally speaking, Lavellan was an irreproachable worker, able to process decisions quickly without lacking humility and compassion. It was clear that her gifts weren't innate, but rather due to many years of discipline and sacrifice. Given that Cullen's career had developed in a similar manner, and nothing was given to him for free, he felt a great affinity for her and was compelled to keep up.

They had different opinions, different approaches, but the foundations were the same.

On a personal level, that affinity was much more evident and this put Cullen on the spot.

Lavellan wasn't afraid of acting like a fool. Not because she lacked intelligence, far from it. She was a woman who didn't take herself too seriously and this factor affected those around her, dampening the strong emotional consequences of truly traumatic situations. Cullen was the exact opposite and, because of this, his subconscious forced him to think of her when he had to deal with his wounds.

Her mere existence helped to relax him and while this was a comforting idea, it also terrified the hell out of him. The more time they spent together, the more Cullen discovered sides of his character he had never had the chance to explore, subjecting him to long sessions of self-criticism with himself, who at that moment in time was the person he despised the most.

And the fact that she only needed to smile to put him in that condition made him furious, especially since it was something he really needed, even though he had never asked for it.

The retroactive revelation came during one of those sessions.

He remembered the gravity of Lavellan's request. She didn't really need fencing lessons, but a way to approach what could have become a necessity after Judgement. He had completely forgotten about it, associating those rendezvous with a positive, sometimes romantic atmosphere. What she needed, instead, was the sense of comfort that he regularly and, above all, selfishly stole from her every single morning.

Knowing that he had behaved like a leech, the morning after a guilt-ridden night he decided to put on his grown man's trousers and take accountability.

He waited for Lavellan beside the dummy to whom she regularly entrusted her heavy jacket, the same one Cassandra slaughtered twice a day to vent stress. Someone during the night had drawn him a goofy face, with plenty of freckles and rabbit teeth, humanizing him in the hope that his executioner would soften and spare him from a fate of wood chips and despair.

-Hello, sunshine!-

Cullen turned to Lavellan, automatically moving his hand in her direction to pick up the cup of hot tea he was offered every morning.

It was part of their routine, as were the playful greeting, the dressing of the dummy, and the way she tied her hair back with whatever she had in her pockets, before he handed her the training sword. Comforting elements that made him feel even more guilty.

Before Lavellan could slip off her jacket, Cullen forced himself to set the record straight. -Let's walk, shall we?- he suggested.

Lavellan paused to look at him inquisitively, twisting one of the jacket's fastening buttons between her fingers. -Cool.- she said.

Cullen finished his tea, handed the cup into the dummy's care, then signaled Lavellan to follow him.

He led her to the highest room in the western ruined tower, where he was sure their conversation would take place in complete tranquility, sheltered from wind and prying ears.

-What are we doing here?- Lavellan asked, leaning against a windowed wall. Her tone was tinged with curiosity, so was her gaze.

Cullen walked in front of her, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets. -A chat.- he answered her. -We need to take stock of the situation.-

Lavellan glanced up, then found herself nodding slowly. -To take stock.- she repeated, softly. -Does that mean you're going to stop giving me lessons?-

-It means you're ready to get the job done.- he corrected her, dropping his grip on colloquiality to take on a serious expression. -Actually, a couple of targeted lessons would have sufficed, but the idea of sharing with you something I excel at made me lose sight of the ultimate goal.- he paused. -For that, please accept my apologies.-

She gave a brief tugged smile, which quickly condensed into an aura of disappointment. -You didn't contradict me.-

Cullen took a step closer. -And you didn't tell the truth.- he pointed out. -You're not hopeless, and you certainly don't lack concentration to learn this discipline. Only an imbecile would say such things, and Cassandra is kilometers away from that description.-

Lavellan huffed, running a hand through her hair, nervously. -It's not me, Cullen.- she blurted. -I hate the idea that I might be in the position of passing such a verdict soon. It's not me. I hate punishment.-

-I know.-

-But it's not something I can pass on.-

-I know that, too.

-I don't think I'm prepared for something like that.-

Cullen described her face with his gaze, gathering information in silence, despising and adoring the slight tremor that unnerved her lips, the tears of frustration she was fighting to push back between her lashes, and the line of expression created by the frowning of her eyebrows. He removed his hands from his pockets and placed them on the nape of Lavellan's neck and back, pulling her gently into his embrace.

-It will be alright.- he whispered, in her ear.

Lavellan humored the contact, returning it tightly while resting her head on his shoulder. The heat emanating from her cheeks and the softness of her uneven breathing clung to Cullen's neck like the softest of caresses.

Every cell of his being released a sense of profound tranquility. It was a neutral, comforting sensation, suspended in midair between melancholy and affection. It massaged his muscles, allowing them to relax, then gently pushed away the tiredness, allowing calmness to prevail.

-Thank you.- Lavellan whispered.

Cullen placed a kiss on her forehead, holding the touch for as long as possible, his eyes shut, before time started running again. For once, he wanted to enjoy the unexpected, even though he knew it all would come back to him a few days later, embarrassing him profoundly.

-Do you really want to stop teaching me?- she asked him, breaking the silence.

Cullen drew back his head, to meet her gaze. -To be honest, no.- he admitted, loosening his grip on her. He gave her a smile stained with embarrassment. -It's nice to have something to share, outside the war room.-

Lavellan distanced herself a little, moving her hands to reach his chest. -Let's continue then.- she offered. -Maybe not first thing in the morning, while we're at it.-

Cullen chuckled. -Impossible to please, and now even lazy!- he teased her.

She tilted her head as she turned an amused expression on him. -Unlike you, dark circles don't suit me. And you have no idea how long it takes me to look like this.- she said, pointing at herself with a wide gesture.

-Have I ever given you the impression...- he had to stop himself from scolding her, upon realization that he was doing exactly the same thing. But if at the beginning he used to take care of his appearance to avoid the deficits of lyrium deprivation being obvious, after a while he continued because he wanted to look perfectly in order for her. That was part of the routine too and the idea of losing it made him as distressed as losing the rest.

He would be left alone with himself, without that extra something to push him out of bed with the excitement of spending a quiet morning that’d distract him from the abyss lyrium had created in his daily routine.

-Fair enough.- he struggled to reply, moving a step away. -We'll find a less deleterious time for the both of us.-

Lavellan exhaled a rather theatrical sigh of relief, which she immediately muffled with a laugh. He, who was already suffering from the call of the core of worries in his head, simply offered her a smile.

-Wanna know something funny?- she asked, once her features had relaxed. -I didn't lie. Cassandra actually said those things.-

Cullen looked at her skeptically.

-Seriously! You can ask her.- Lavellan insisted. -She dumped me after one lesson.-

-Cassandra is an excellent swordswoman, how is that possible?-

Lavellan shrugged. -Maybe you are a more patient teacher.- she speculated. -Or, maybe it's just... alchemy.- she added, in a half-voice.

-What does alchemy have to do with it?-

Lavellan stared at him, still, silent, bewildered by that question. After a while, she exhaled a sigh of resignation, which ended in a nervous laugh. -Let me know when you find the answer.- she dismissed him, leaving the building.

The answer occurred to him during yet another retroactive revelation, the next morning.

He had woken up automatically, well before dawn, out of habit. Unable to resume sleep, he had decided to face the routine alone, as he didn't want to waste the benefits collected during the last days. It would have been an excellent excuse to learn to comfort himself independently, beginning to build the foundations of a process of reconciliation with himself and his intentions.

So, he decided he was going to use the extra time to catch up on reports that had come across his desk during the night.

Just as he was about to write a note on the back of an official document, he suddenly found himself staring at an undefined spot in front of him, his eyes open wide and his pen still dripping with ink.

He realized that Lavellan was not referring to the science, but to the dynamics that characterized their relationship, and immediately called himself stupid.

A dim-witted idiot, he doubled down, just to add insult to injury, since he had again wasted an opportunity to tell her that, for him, their chasing around had stopped being a game for months.

It was true, there was an unmistakable alchemy between him and Lavellan. When they found themselves in the same area of action, they attracted each other like the opposite poles of a magnet, fostering interactions naturally. One day it was he who rushed to her, the next day it was the other way around.

What was a vital realization for Cullen, however, was the ultimate confirmation that they supported each other when they needed to process difficult situations, seeking comfort in the other party's methodicalness. As they seeked help, they gave help, healing both sides in the process, and providing the means for both parties to jump the hurdle and move on.

What bound them together went beyond the pleasure of looking at each other, and being with one another: it was a relationship well established, trapped in the body of a newborn feeling.

What had happened in the previous days was clear proof of that.

After having been subjected by himself to dozens of insults on a personal level, which once would have led to him virtually banging his head against a wall for hours, Cullen laughed heartily. He put his pen back into the inkwell, then ran a hand over his forehead, softening his laughter with a sigh of acceptance.

*

With a well-rested face, after the first decent sleep she had had in weeks, Lavellan went to the undercroft to finish her project.

She greeted Dagna, exchanged a few words with her, then slipped on her work gloves and goggles, whistling her way to the workstation.

She stopped in front of it, wearing a surprised expression.

Her equipment, including her scissors, had been tidied up and reorganized so that they could be easily recognised and stored away once used. -Well, that's new.- she commented, stepping back as she noticed two shelves arranged on opposite sides of the table. On the one to her left were all the projects she had in progress, while on the one to her right were those she had completed since arriving at Skyhold.

She crouched down, retrieving a box from the left shelf, containing a project she failed to recognize. She placed it on the table and opened it, peering inside curiously.

She stepped back abruptly, bringing her hands in front of her as a sign of halt.

After having taken exactly one minute to process the situation, she literally plunged her head and hands inside the box, and began to eviscerate it in order to arrange its contents on the table.

She let out a hysterical laugh as she ran her fingers over a model of a counterweight siege machine. It was an updated version of a badly aged prototype, complete with a blueprint dripping with more or less recent annotations, aimed at solving obvious problems of a contraption that, if it worked, could create breaches on very sturdy walls.

She studied the blueprint for a good fifteen minutes, checking every single annotation and verifying it mathematically on a separate sheet of paper. There were good solutions, but each correction led to a new problem that affected the entire anatomy of the machine, forcing the author of the calculations to run in circles.

When Lavellan figured out the scope of that engineering puzzle, her interest became a challenge. She lost another quarter of an hour before realizing that a note was attached to the blueprint.

It simply read: "Can this work as a pretext?", accompanied by a stylised drawing of a steaming mug.

Lavellan bared her teeth in a wide grin, rereading those words over and over again as she mentally formulated an answer. When she found it, she hastened to write it underneath the message, without ceasing to smile for a single moment. -Now, this is a date.- she murmured, folding the note carefully.

Chapter 12: Chaos

Chapter Text

Between Skyhold’s renovations and preparations for the Inquisitor’s departure for Crestwood, time was so tight that no one had the time to go beyond “good morning”.

A regular Friday for Lavellan was a combination of reports to read, people to judge, cellars to disinfest, and far too many stairs to climb and descend. Through all of this, she had to carve out time to master the Anchor, learn an accessory discipline to improve her performance during missions, and explain to the seamstress that her eyes prevented her from distinguishing crimson from magenta.

By mid-afternoon, the day before her departure, Lavellan forced herself to stop, and she did so exactly in the middle of the nave of the main hall. She grabbed an arm from Cullen and one from Josephine, who were exposing a problem less serious than it should have been, and she cast a look drenched in fatigue on both, restraining them from walking on.

-Now, for exactly one minute, we’ll just breathe and, if we must, we’ll only talk about the weather.- she decreed. -Are we clear?-

Josephine exhaled a weary sigh, stretching her neck in pain. -Thank the Maker, I couldn't take it anymore!- she said.

Cullen stretched his arms, looking around with a nervousness he had been showing since the Champion of Kirkwall had magically appeared on the ramparts.

The incessant question that his three colleagues were forced to hear was: -Where’s Hawke?- and, after getting an answer, Cullen would try to focus his schedule as far away from the given location as possible.

Lavellan spotted a suspicious movement near the entrance portal, right where Varric had decided to manage his business, at which she turned around, driven by curiosity. She immediately noticed the presence of Hawke, who was hiding under his friend's desk, who motioned her not to reveal his location - despite the fact that he was clearly visible and was attracting numerous perplexed glances in his direction.

Hawke was a classic example of a person who overdoes vices but at the same time manages them functionally. Varric, who suffered from the same syndrome, called his best friend's habits "a problem with beautiful legs".

His long, mahogany hair framed a handsome face, damaged by sun and alcohol. His tan enhanced eyes of a peculiar amber, shadowed by a pronounced gable and divided by a prominent nose, veteran of more than one breakup.

The cheeks were puffy, caressed by a beard that thickened as it reached the jawline. It was a respectable work of art, and from the way it was kept, one could see a long way off that growing it had cost its owner immense effort.

Up and tight in his Champion's robes, Hawke was a unit. He had a robust build, starting from his strong limbs to his pronounced beer belly. On his arm there was a tattoo as red as that Kaddis stripe that divided his face horizontally, and it consisted of a swirl of raven feathers starting from the back of his hand to his right collarbone.

-Why are you so stressed about the Champion’s presence?- Josephine, who didn’t seem to notice the skit taking place, asked.

Cullen spun on himself, looking around circ*mspectly. -If you knew him as much as I do, you would be just as concerned. The man is an agent of chaos.- he replied, just as Hawke escaped his gaze to take cover behind the pole of a scaffold so thin that it wouldn’t conceal him in the slightest.

From behind his desk, Varric followed his best friend's espionage endeavors with a look full of resignation, chuckling and shaking his head from time to time.

-He made a good impression on me.- Lavellan interjected, struggling not to laugh.

-He makes a good impression on everyone. That's how he fools you!- Cullen blurted out, turning sharply in response to a loud clatter. He watched suspiciously as a maid stacked an assembly of broken dishes inside a tray, then turned back to his colleagues, allowing Hawke to stop pretending to be a statue. -Talking to him is like having someone knocking insistently on your forehead and repeating, "I told you so, I told you so, I told you so," over and over.-

Hawke, who had managed to get close enough to hear them, leaned out of his umpteenth useless hiding place and began to nod, laughing and pointing at himself.

-He taught an obscene little song to the recruits...- Cullen stopped, turning again in response to yet another alarm bell. Hawke, who had come within a few steps, crystallized on the spot.

-...talking in detail about my...- Cullen prevented himself from elaborating further, remembering that he was in the presence of two ladies. -It was indecent, that's all you need to know.- he cut it short.

-Basically, you two have history.- Josephine said, trying to draw attention to herself.

Cullen, however, continued to scan the room. -I know he’s here, I just have to figure out where and run to the opposite direction.-

Like a lightning bolt, Hawke slipped out of his last hiding spot and trotted up to his shoulders, to then wrap him with his arms. Cullen quacked as he was lifted off the ground like a sack of flour. -Sir Steaks!- Hawke greeted him, putting him down abruptly so he could pinch his hips.

Josephine clutched Lavellan's arm as she watched the scene with a smile of incredulity.

Cullen backed away, raising a hand to stop Hawke from continuing to treat him like a rag doll. His eyes were wide, and his cheeks dyed red.

Hawke ducked down, crab walking playfully to dodge the hand Cullen was waving in midair to keep him at a distance. -It's our thing.- he justified himself, after they both grew tired of that game.

Cullen straightened his cloak with a dry gesture, glaring at him. -It is not!- he asserted. -You’re a bully to the core, always have been.-

-If you really hated me, you wouldn't have copied my pelt.-

-It’s a mane!-

-Oh, I hadn't noticed.- Josephine admitted, acknowledging the resemblance.

Hawke cast her an amused glance. -Does he still have trouble pronouncing the word "brothel"?-

Cullen snorted a laugh dry of amusem*nt, shifting his gaze elsewhere. -You’re the epitome of vulgarity!-

Hawke placed a hand on the chest, tilting his head, tenderhearted. -I missed you too, Culls.- he then turned to Lavellan. -Does he still compare mages to animals, or has he found another minority to vex?-

She immediately lost her smile; the same happened to Josephine, who loosened her grip on her colleague's arm to collect herself.

After a moment of deep awkwardness, Cullen entwined his fingers behind the back, looking Hawke straight in the eye. -It was unacceptable to express it at the time, and now more than ever it’s my obligation to apologize to you again.- he said. -You can confidently hold against me all the crap I said about you, and mages in general, in front of an audience of hundreds of people, and I will admit to every wrongdoing without withdrawing from the consequences that could...-

Hawke placed both hands to the sides of his mouth and inhaled deeply. -Cullen is a repressed idiot with mabari ass face!- he shouted, at the top of his lungs.

-...cost me.- Cullen concluded, then rolled his eyes. -Did I or did I not say he was an agent of chaos?-

-Yes, you did.- Lavellan groaned, rubbing her ears.

-Ara seranna-ma, Ankh.- Hawke apologized, passing a hand over her arm affectionately.

She sighed. -Tel'enfenim.- she replied. -And as the new employer of "repressed idiot with mabari ass face" I can assure you that there was never an instance in which he didn't treat every Inquisition Mage or ally with the respect they deserved.- she added.

Cullen immediately looked away, clenching his jaw into a tense frown. To which, Lavellan realized that she had wronged him by talking in his favor.

-I can confirm.- Josephine intervened, promptly. -Now, if we could leave certain behaviors outside the hall where I receive distinguished guests whom I have to make delicate alliances with, that would be ideal.- she said, taking leave with a curt nod to go and apologize to the entourage of Arl Stormhedge, who had reacted to the obscenities by fainting in a particularly theatrical manner.

Hawke encircled Cullen's shoulders with one arm, patting his stomach vigorously.

The other ran a hand over his forehead, wearily, then presented the Champion with a submissive glance. -Is it too much to ask for a truce?-

Hawke blinked eloquently, showing him a big smile.

*

The lanterns had just been lit in Skyhold, and because of the everlasting wind, they cast a discordant glow on the facades of the walls and buildings, like a succession of luminous slaps.

Sitting at his office desk, Cullen lifted his head from the tome he was reading, moving to get up in response to the door opening.

Lavellan slipped inside the room, balancing a steaming mug in her hands as she closed the door with her foot. She signaled Cullen to stay seated, as she walked around the desk to put the mug down in front of him. -I saw the light from above and thought I'd pop in to see how you were doing.- she explained, sitting down on the edge of the table.

Cullen stroked the mug slightly, turning Lavellan a half smile. -I'm fine.-

-How about the headache?-

-Something reasonable.-

Lavellan rested a wrist on his forehead, finding it warm, then gathered both hands in her lap. -I read the memoirs of a disgraced Templar from Denerim who...made your same choice. It was a very heavy reading, but equally informative.- she said, moderating her tone. -It’s in my studio, along with other reports, should you ever wish to consult them.-

Cullen picked up the cup, to warm his hands. -I… thank you. Although it wasn’t necessary.- he said, his voice tainted with uncertainty.

-I know you have everything under control.- she reassured him. -I just wanted to bring you a decoction to conciliate your sleep and tell you, yet again, that you got my total support.-

Cullen turned his head away in distress. -I don't think I deserve it.- he admitted, laying his gaze on the gift she had given him a few days earlier. -And I don't deserve your endorsem*nt either.-

-Because of what the Champion said?-

-Especially for that. You don't have the full picture, Lavellan.-

She relaxed her posture, as he verbally displayed every single misplaced belief and nastiness he had ever spoken towards mages. He didn't spare any detail of the crimes he had been an accomplice and executioner of, out of fear and resentment.

As he spewed information about himself, his voice trembled with shame. He was owning his mistakes, without distancing himself from the person who had perpetrated them, laying himself completely bare.

Lavellan sat listening to him, never interrupting the stream of words to reassure him, or find justification. When he finished, she placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. -Thank you for being honest with me.- she said.

He frowned, unable to look at her because of the discomfort that interaction brought him. -You needed to know.- he murmured. -I’m a monster, Lavellan.-

-You are a human being.- she corrected him. -If you were a monster, what you did would have a logical justification, linked to an instinctive urge.- she paused. -You have acted deliberately, with the excuse of having to fulfill your duties as a Templar.-

Cullen inhaled deeply, aching as if she were carving those words into his skin.

-I don’t intend to pardon your faults, or punish you, if that’s what you seek from me.- Lavellan continued, holding on to physical contact. -You already know how I feel on that subject. Realizing your mistakes and taking sides against your own nature to rectify them, like you’re doing, is the most difficult task a person can face.- she sought his gaze, urging him to return the favor.

Cullen exhaled a nervous sigh as he obliged. -Lavellan...- he began.

-You're not a quitter, Cullen. I know you’ll go through with this.- she declared, interrupting him. -But if shame and guilt would get so intense to handle...- she smiled at him, gently. -My door is always open.-

Cullen clenched his jaw, nipping a retort in the bud.

Lavellan got to her feet again, clapping her hand on his shoulder after letting go. -I asked one of the kitchen boys to make you some every other day while I'm away.- she said, drastically changing the subject as she alluded to the decoction. -If the taste is too strong for your taste, dilute it with milk.- she added, moving toward the exit.

Cullen hurried to get up next, following her to hold the door open. -I'll let you know if it works.- he humored her, without putting too much enthusiasm into it.

-I'm counting on it.- she replied, lingering on the exit just a moment to smile at him.

He rested a temple on the doorframe, reciprocating. -Don't cause too much damage out there, it's on us to fix it later.- he admonished her.

Lavellan gave him an eloquent look. -We'd better tell Josephine to stock up on paper and ink, then.- she said, waving a hand in farewell as she disappeared.

Cullen watched until she was fairly distant, then exhaled a weary sigh and went back to work, vexed by a deep sense of inadequacy.

*

In the pouring rain that had been ravaging Crestwood for days, the troop of highwaymen stationed to protect Caer Bronach’s gateway hurriedly overturned two wagons in the courtyard to create a line of fortifications in preparation for the raid.

The archers took up positions at elevated points instead, ready to deal with whatever would come through the gate, which was actually really massive and well stacked, so it would take at least two hours to break through.

Although the highwaymen didn’t bother to speed up preparations for defense, the only person really worried about the confrontation was Magrit of Kirkwall, whose face had taken on an unhealthy shade of green when the sentries had described the invaders to the troop. In fact, he had even begun praying to Andraste, elvhen Gods, and his unknown mother, seeking holy protection to rely on in anticipation of what was to come.

His comrades laughed at that overreaction, but if only they had known the extent of the trouble they were in, they would surely have followed suit.

Suddenly, the roar of the rain was interrupted by lightning, only to serve as accompaniment for a cadenced melody, alternating with short arpeggios with an epic and solemn personality.

The highwaymen exchanged uncertain glances at each other, as Magrit dropped his sword and shield, running off at the drop of a hat and shouting, -I’m not paid enough for this!- among other catchphrases that usually precede a considerable thinning of the number of people of dubious morality during a scuffle.

In fact, a few moments later, the gateway that was considered by all to be indestructible was smashed through by a shattering shock wave.

Splinters of wood and metal flew like ballista arrows all over the courtyard in a lethal flare, thrusting into the bottoms of the wagons and anyone who wasn't within cover, mortally wounding two highwaymen and crippling a third.

The archers, after questioning the sanctity of Andraste in their imprecations, found themselves trying to define with their eyes the attackers, who at that moment were only indistinct silhouettes advancing within a cloud of dust.

By the time they managed to spot them, however, it was too late to react.

They were taken down by precise arrow shots, to the heart and into the vulnerable spaces that the armors failed to protect. What the arrows missed was promptly met by crossbow darts and elemental spells.

-I told you his music made sense!- Hawke said, entering the courtyard confidently.

Lavellan, right behind him, fired an arrow to prevent a highwayman from lowering his sword on him. -So that's what bards are for!- she exclaimed, looking amused, as Cassandra and the rest of the party slipped into the courtyard to deal with the toughest opponents.

-You heard that Zither? You're useful!- Varric shouted, sidling up next to his best friend.

From the rear, Zither's enchanted lute howled a long note of approval.

Hawke whirled his mage staff, then planted it on the ground, thrusting a hand in front of him as he conjured a fireball that destroyed the enemies' temporary fortifications. -This is kinda sad.- he blurted out, noting that the courtyard was being secured quickly by the Inquisitor's party. -It's like tripping a cripple to steal his boots!-

-Sorry about it!- Varric exclaimed, laughing hoarsely.

Lavellan, who had somehow managed to get to the top of the walkways that hugged the courtyard, caught the ally's attention with a loud whistle. Once Hawke had turned in her direction, she pointed to a gate leading to the inner sections of the fort. -Go vent over there, I got your six!- she invited him.

Cassandra slid the blade out of a highwayman's stomach in time to realize the danger the two would be in by proceeding alone. -Go vent over there?!- echoed Lavellan, her voice an octave higher.

Panicked, she rushed after Hawke, who had launched himself up a flight of stairs, making the steps two by two in order to gain priority over the next fight.

Lavellan ran parallel to the two, then jumped into a waterspout with a cat leap, sliding down it to land behind them. -I want to see him in action.- she explained, in response to a reproachful look from Cassandra.

-Lav it's not the Orzammar Proving, it's a siege!- the latter snapped back, deflecting an arrow with a shield bash.

Meanwhile, Hawke had gone through the gate at the top of the stairs, finding himself confined in a semicircle of arrows that had failed to hit him.

He stopped abruptly and raised his staff, along with his left hand, whose fingers trembled faintly as he proceeded to extend his limbs skyward. Lavellan covered the summoning to the best of her ability, targeting the archers as Cassandra charged a warrior in close proximity.

-I will try to avoid hitting you, but if I were in your shoes I would look up.- Hawke suggested, with a malevolent grin painted on his face.

Lavellan indeed looked up, widened her eyes, then ran towards Cassandra, tackling her just in time to prevent her from being crushed by a flaming meteor.

The battlefield was battered by dozens of those meteors, which fell like blazing hail, crushing enemies and siege machines like bugs.

Cassandra and Lavellan watched that work of destruction with eyes full of bewilderment, holding each other up to avoid falling victim to the summoning themselves. Hawke, in the process, was laughing sonorously, concatenating shock waves and telekinetic flattenings to prevent the enemies graced by the meteor shower from planning a countermove.

Watching him fight was a treat for the eyes and a horror for the soul. Although his summoning seemed to be aimed at unleashing chaos, he didn’t seem to lose control of what was going on around him, using all the means in his power to relegate enemies into medium distance. He would deflect arrows with walls of ice, or waves of telekinetic energy, whereas he had no problem landing those who got too close with his fists, followed by a mind blast. The elements were in his favor and he wasn’t afraid of bending them to his will to generate as much mayhem as possible.

-Don't break the fortress, Hawke, we need it!- Cassandra shouted at him, as Lavellan took part in the chaos with explosive shots and elemental traps, which contributed to a visual and auditory cacophony worthy of a fireworks display during a mass hangover.

Hawke simply responded with a smirk, hinting to his interlocutor that she had good reasons to be concerned.

*

-About damn time!- Hawke said.

He was hanging with an old lady and they were sitting on a tiny wall not far from the village gates. They were having tea and she, who had taken such a liking to him a few hours earlier to adopt him on the spot, was mending his gloves and cloak to keep him from getting cold.

Before traveling to Old Crestwood to investigate, Lavellan had wondered how long it would take him to befriend the entire village. Once she returned, her question was answered in no time.

Anyone passing by greeted him by name, thanking him for some favor he had done while his allies were away - or looked at him truculently for the manner in which he had performed the aforementioned favors.

Lavellan, Cassandra, Solas, and Varric joined him. They were soaked to the bone, with the typical expression of someone in urgent need of a long scalding bath and a comforting hug.

As they approached, the lady handed Hawke his gloves carefully, and bid him farewell by stamping a kiss on his cheek.

Lavellan watched her bring the cups home with eyes full of surprise.

-Andraste’s left ball, where did you crawl in this time?- Hawke asked amusedly, when the four were finally in front of him.

-In a flooded cave.- Lavellan replied confidently, a hint of fun in her voice.

-Ah, that explains the stench of damp and bat crap.- the other commented, running his gaze over her. -I thought it was a style statement.-

-Maybe in the Anderfels.- muttered Solas.

-Slightly nicer than Darktown tunnels, anyway.- Varric added, squeezing his handkerchief to get rid of excess water. -Just so you know what we’re working with.-

Hawke contracted his features into an annoyed grimace. -That’s a very low standard, my friend. Bottom of the barrell.- he said, then sidled up alongside Lavellan, about to enter the village.

Although the danger had passed, an anguished atmosphere still prevailed. The defenders continued to remain on alert, close to the walls, and many houses kept their doors and windows barred. Whoever was outside released the tension in multiple manners, from scrambling to help rebuild what the undead had damaged, to the more canonical bawling their eyes out.

After exiting the mayor's house, Lavellan turned to cast an annoyed glance at a mother who was unable to calm a shrieking toddler a few feet away from the group. -Look at this.- she said, handing a note to an equally irritated Cassandra.

Hawke stretched his neck to read in turn and, upon finishing, he released a discouraged sigh. -Damn it, Gregory!- he said, sharing a heartbroken expression with Cassandra as she handed the note back to Lavellan.

-I knew he was nervous about more than the undead.- Varric intervened, after the latter had reported the mayor's faults to the others.

The child screeched a high-pitched note, causing Solas to flinch. He looked disapprovingly at the clearly embarrassed mother before turning to Lavellan.

-Will Inquisition bring him to justice?- he asked, rubbing his tragus.

His interlocutor smoothed the note, looking absorbed. -We need to find him first.- she said, looking around for one of the agents who had been installed in the village to distribute supplies. -The context in which the Mayor made that decision, as horrible as it was, is certainly a mitigating factor, but not a justification.- she explained, giving a brief grimace of annoyance as the child screamed even louder. -It will be an impossible decision to make.-

As she articulated the speech, Hawke walked away to join the mother and child, followed by Varric's interested gaze.

-Help me understand, Lav. What would be the logical solution?- Cassandra asked.

But Lavellan didn’t answer, because she shared Varric's curiosity about the scene that was unfolding a few steps away from them.

Hawke, after greeting the struggling mother, brought his hands up to cover his face, then opened them along with a shower of colorful sparks that hung in midair like tiny iridescent wisps of fire.

The child lowered his voice, opening his eyes wide with curiosity at the summoning. Consequently, Hawke showed him more magic, similar to that one, succeeding in his attempt to distract him, allowing his mother to effectively comfort him at last.

She looked at him with eyes full of gratitude, to which Hawke passed a caress on her arm as a sign of support, before rejoining the conversation.

-Holy at once!- Varric greeted him, laughing softly.

Hawke shrugged. -I'm an idiot, not an asshole.- he said, returning to pay attention to Lavellan. -Moms should never be left alone.-

She studied his face for a long time, never ceasing to wonder if he acted to allow the conversation to flow without outside annoyances, or to genuinely lend a hand to someone in need.

For Varric, the answer was more obvious than sunset, but for the sake of his best friend he avoided sharing it with her.

*

Lavellan folded her arms onto the parapet of a beautiful stone terrace covered in ivy and red flowers in the highest tower of Caer Bronach.

The landscape unfolding before her consisted of a vast valley, embraced to the east by an overhanging cliff and to the west by a row of low mountains with their peaks drenched in snow. The air permeated with the smell of the battle that had ended the previous night, although the wind carried with it the fragrant scent of saltiness from the north.

Lavellan turned around slightly, spotting Hawke resting his forearm on the parapet beside her.

-Beautiful day, isn't it?- he asked her, turning his gaze to the west.

Lavellan ran a quick glance over him, unconvinced that he got up there to talk about the weather, yet she still decided to humor him. -First sun we see since we arrived.- she said.

They stood in silence, enjoying the refreshing breeze for a while, then Hawke tilted his head so he could look into her eyes. -I know I should be minding my own business, but Varric is squeezing one too many jokes on you and Sir Beefcake being an item.- he admitted. -Is it just banter, or is there some truth in his words?-

Lavellan ran a hand over her head as she turned to meet his gaze. -Suppose I confirm that rumor. Are you gonna ask me if I'm in full control of my mental faculties, or are you gonna say it's a horrible idea?-

Hawke laughed. -Neither of them, although now that you've told me, I'd be tempted to bring up the first question.- he replied. -That would be very inconsistent though, since I too fell in love with someone who everyone thought was out of my league and vice versa. Not because of appearance, of course, since he’s a beauty beyond reach and I’m a snack.-

-A snack?- she repeated, with an unconvinced smile.

-Actually, I'm the whole meal.-

Lavellan chuckled. -I'll recycle this one.-

Suddenly, Hawke's face took on a tinge of seriousness. -For a time, it was blatant that my vicinity alarmed every fiber of his body, and this thing ate me up from the inside because I was in total adoration of the man and I knew it was mutual.- he lowered his gaze, along with an enigmatic expression. -Until I found out that I wasn’t the problem and, if that’s even possible, this made me feel worse.-

Lavellan explored his face, failing to recognize the easygoing person with whom she had spent the last few weeks. She furrowed her brow, keeping silent to give him a chance to continue without offering him a counterproductive catchphrase.

-He's the person I love the most, after my brother, but at one point in our relationship I found myself looking in the mirror and wondering if I wanted to be with him because I loved him, or because I wanted to save him.- Hawke smoothed his beard nervously. -When you are with a person who's forced to relive his trauma constantly, that trauma unintentionally becomes part of your relationship. The problem is… that person realizes it all too well, and even though you do whatever you can to ease their pain, every effort becomes futile, because you already know that those wounds will remain completely exposed, incurable, forever.-

Lavellan nodded slowly. -And how did it go?- she asked.

-Kirkwall’s Chantry exploded, Templars freaked out, and the sky split open. Worse than that there’s only Varric's romance twist!- Hawke replied, breaking the tension with a smirk.

Lavellan glared at him. -I meant to ask what was the answer.- she clarified.

-I know, but in the absence of comic relief I have to manufacture one, and you’ve served it to me on a silver platter.- Hawke said, then took a deep breath. -Are you in love with him, or are you in love with the idea that you can save him?- he paused, unconvinced. -Redeem, in his case.-

Lavellan exhaled a weary sigh, then paused to think about it.

It was tough to interface with such a lecture, since she didn't believe in redemption, but she still found it very difficult to carve a coherent answer in the tangle of emotions she felt in relation to Cullen's condition and his terrible past. -I don't know what to say.- she admitted, feeling compelled to engage with someone who had actually seen the worst of the receiving end of her love. Somehow, she knew that that exposure would be necessary for clarity. -I don’t know the extent of his pain, but I am aware of what mine looks like and his inability to understand it. I’m afraid that this feeling is mutual.-

Hawke crossed his arms on his chest, glaring at the snowy peaks before him. -Frankly, Ankh, I don't think you two will ever get to the point of understanding how deep your wounds run.- he affirmed. -What I see is that you are willing to accept that the person you are in love with played the role of the oppressor for his entire existence, without wavering for a moment, even when it was obvious to him that he was under the command of a madwoman.-

Lavellan frowned. -And now he's a man completely crushed by regret.-

-As he should be.-

They exchanged a quick glance, then returned to look at the horizon.

-With him I feel safe, like never before in my life. And it's not just about muscles.- Lavellan murmured, after a while.

Hawke smiled just a little.

-You know the irony of it?- she continued, straightening up. -When I was urged to visit a big city because the clan was in trouble, I always made sure to keep my distance from humans like that. I’ve seen what they do to my people in the alienages to prove they’re real men.- she huffed, trying to stay coherent with her thoughts. -Maybe he was that kind of person before he joined the Inquisition? That I can’t tell, lethallan. The man I know has always treated me with honesty and dignity, without all the condescending fluff people often present to me whenever they need to make themselves look better.- she had to swallow the frustration, before continuing.

-He has never shown false compassion towards me, or tried to make a spectacle out of my trauma in order to gain my favor. When he comes to my aid, he doesn't do it to silence guilt, or to get something in return: he does it because it’s the right thing to do.- she looked Hawke straight in the eye. -I should care about the person he was, I know, and yet the portrait he painted of himself when we talked looks so different from the one I'm used to interacting with. They truly seem two separate entities. You know, maybe he is the one saving me, giving me hope that things can change, that humans will come to acquire critical thinking at last.-

She shifted a troubled gaze elsewhere. -Hypercritical, in his case.- she added, beneath a whisper.

Hawke, who was stroking his beard thoughtfully, nodded slowly. -Holy sh*t, Ankh, you almost make me want to root for him- he admitted, laughing nervously.

-Would that be so out of character?- Lavellan joked.

-No, but I'm going to dip my brain into acid for good measure.- he replied, turning his back to the landscape to rest it on the parapet. -You really want to know my answer?-

-I just took my pants off in front of someone I've known for half a minute. I deserve it.-

-If you put it that way...- Hawke shrugged. -I fell in love with Fenris because he's the only person I can spill my whole heart against in a conversation without feeling the urge to make a joke.- he replied, opening a big smile between his lips. -Also he’s the only man who stood by my side when I showed my sadness. He didn't try to take it away from me, or make it a competition between wounded souls... he just stayed, and held me tightly, allowing me to do the same.-

Lavellan immediately turned an expression drenched in tenderness.

-That's all. I hope I've been exhaustive.- Hawke concluded, showing his palms to the sky.

-Exhaustive, and cheesy as f*ck.- she poked fun at him, patting his arm.

-Fair enough.-

-No sermon, then?-

-Nay, but be prepared for something very quick and very intense. In ten years, the only woman I've seen him talk to is still petrified in the exact center of the Gallows.-

Lavellan remained motionless, staring at him with a hint of apprehension in her gaze. -This stuff should be said at the beginning Hawke, not after three hours of heavy dialogue.- she scolded him, struggling to hold back a smirk.

He distanced himself from the parapet. -What can I say, I like to close with a bang.- he said, moving away from dawn with a satisfied expression.