The Warden & The Inquisitor

AN: The Inquisitor and the Warden have an unexpected past, but when the Warden calls on the Inquisitor for an unexpected favor everything will change. [Cousland, Alistair] [Trevelyan, Cullen]

Rhysa Trevelyan squinted at Lake Calenhad. Cullen was right; it did look like a bunny. Josephine droned on about something but Rhysa found it hard to focus. Ever since Corypheus had been defeated the Inquisitor had been able to go out and fight some remaining Venatori and darkspawn but for the most part the only requests given to them were from nobles seeking to gain political advantages by allying themselves with the organization that saved Thedas. If there was one thing Rhysa hated it was politics.

She scanned the room quickly. Josephine read from her ledger dutifully and unobservant of her colleagues' disinterest. Leliana absentmindedly twirled her dagger and stared into space. Cullen leaned against the war table, looking intently at the Anderfels. He did not blink or move and Rhysa wondered if he had fallen asleep. She was fairly certain he could sleep with his eyes open; perhaps it was a skill of the templars. While Josephine paced the floor, Rhysa decided to test this theory. She picked up one of the markers they used for the map and threw it at Cullen. It hit his arm lightly and he blinked and snorted loudly. Leliana, who witnessed the entire event laughed and Josephine turned to look at her companions.

"Is there something I missed?" the ambassador asked.

"I think we're all just tired," Rhysa replied. "Is there anything more on the agenda?"

"Just two things. I saved them for last."

Josephine seemed earnest so Rhysa asked, "What are they?"

"Well, I received notice that Chef Giroux has agreed to cater your wedding! He had other arrangements that weekend but I convinced him to… change them for us." Josephine beamed proudly at her accomplishment but Cullen and Rhysa only smiled faintly. "He is the best chef in all of Orlais!"

"It's true," Leliana added. "And I'm sure his food tastes even better when it hasn't been poisoned."

"Thank you," Rhysa said in the quiet that ensued. "Really, we appreciate it. It's just that Cullen and I aren't exactly… party people. If this wedding were solely up to us to plan we'd be married in the barn or on top of the barracks."

"That's not a bad idea," Cullen commented, and Josephine sent him a spiteful look.

"What was the other message?" Rhysa asked.

Josephine resigned to the fact that her wedding planning duties would not be fully appreciated until the actual wedding day and read the next letter on her ledger. "This one is most exciting. The Inquisition has been cordially invited to the birthday party… of King Alistair Theirin of Fereldan!"

"Oh Alistair!" Leliana reminisced. "It will be lovely to see him again as well as his wife, the Hero of Fereldan."

"No," Rhysa stated calmly but firmly and all eyes in the room fell on her for such an unexpected response. They seemed to be waiting for an explanation but the Inquisitor never offered one. She simply folded her arms and stared blankly at the map in front of her.

"Uh… Rhysa," Cullen started. "Is there something wrong?"

"Everything is fine," Rhysa continued in the same tone. "We're just not going to that party."

"Do you… know the king?" Josephine asked tentatively.

"We've never met."

"His wife then?"

Rhysa immediately tensed and remained silent.

"Rhyan Theirin is a good friend of mine." Leliana examined the Inquisitor, using her skills to try and find answers in her body language. "If there is a problem, I'd be interested to hear of it."

Rhysa finally looked up. Her gaze rested on Cullen and her eyebrows lifted in the slightest way that her betrothed understood as a plea for help. He realized that she clearly didn't want to reveal something but he was just as confused as the others and required an answer. A sigh and shake of the head told Rhysa she wasn't getting out of this.

"Rhyan Cousland… Theirin," Rhysa shifted from one foot to another and stared at the floor. "Well, technically… she's my second cousin."

A gasp echoed throughout the room but Josephine was the first to speak. "If we had known this…"

"It wouldn't have made a difference!" Rhysa readily defended herself. "We took down Corypheus and closed the Breach even without the help of Fereldan or its precious Hero. We never needed their help."

"Nonetheless…"

"No." Rhysa returned to her former stance.

The advisors looked at each other and conducted a silent conversation. Through a series of raised eyebrows, mouthed words, and small gestures it was decided that Cullen would talk to the Inquisitor, much to his chagrin. "I suppose this meeting is over then," Leliana stated and she and Josephine left the war room.

Though Rhysa stared at the floor she felt Cullen move to stand behind her and then wrap his arms around her. "I don't want to talk about it." He said nothing but rested his chin of her shoulder and his warm breath was somehow a comfort to her. "And I don't want to go to that party."

Cullen laughed. "You should know I'm the last person to try and convince you to go to some noble's stuffy soiree."

Rhysa relaxed into his grasp. She bit her lip in thought. "I suppose I could try and explain…"

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alistair approached his office to find his wife sitting at the desk, rifling through a pile of paperwork. Not wanting to interrupt, he leaned against the door frame and watched her. She had only been home from her journey to end the calling a few weeks, returning with no more answers than she had left with, and while she physically walked through the palace anyone could tell she wasn't really here. Strands of her bright red hair fell into her face as she poured over some report and she mindlessly pushed it aside, making Alistair grin, but only momentarily. Everything she did reminded him of a distant past, when they were just two young wardens madly in love. But that made him remember how different things were now. It had been 10 years and they were undeniably older, more hardened, and with the same unspoken argument always hanging between them.

"Excuse me, miss," he started, deciding to finally make his presence known. "I'm afraid you're in the wrong place. This is the king's office."

Rhyan looked up and her brow raised when she realized it was her husband who addressed her. "I'm sorry. When I arrived there was no one here. It seems I'm providing Fereldan with a much needed service." She spoke with the same teasing tone that she and Alistair had always used with each other, but there was a subtle brutal honesty to her speech.

Alistair noted this, but continued anyway. "I was just here," he whined. "I left for lunch. Did you want me to starve?"

Rhyan ignored this argument. "How do you get anything done here? Nothing is in order! Did you know there's an entire stack of letters and memos that need to be responded to?" She picked up the pile of papers and Alistair snatched it from her.

"I have a system," he asserted, leafing through the pile. "If it's more than two pages long, I won't read it." He grabbed a handful of papers and dropped it into the rubbish bin. "If it's signed by someone with three or more titles, they're a pompous arse and I won't read it." Another pile went to the trash.

Rhyan grabbed what few papers remained in his hand and read one. "Your Majesty, The Orlesian chocolate you requested for your birthday has been delayed. While it is still expected to arrive in time for your party, I have taken it upon myself to also order some Antivan chocolate. It is a bit spicier but I believe you will enjoy it. Your faithful servant, Chef Alton."

"See?" Alistair laughed. "My system gets rid of all the junk and keeps the important bits."

Rhyan cracked a smile and her gaze on her husband softened quite a bit. "Speaking of your party, where are the RSVPs?"

Alistair groaned and pulled a stack of cards out of a drawer in his desk. Shuffling them, he read aloud, "Hate him, hate him, don't even know them… Can't I invite who I want to my birthday?"

"And who do you mean by that?"

He thought for a moment. "Oghren was always fun at a party."

Rhyan laughed, an unusual sight as of late. "Sure, why don't we just invite Sten and Zevran while we're at it?"

"That would be great!"

"You do realize none of these people actually have addresses, right? I wouldn't even know how to begin to contact them."

"Well, Leliana's a part of that Inquisition, isn't she? You know, the people who are building an army in the mountains." He turned his gaze sideways and added quietly, "I should be more concerned about that, shouldn't I?"

"The Inquisition has already been sent an invitation." Rhyan became stoic. "We'll see what the Inquisitor responds."

"Ohhh," he stretched out the word. "That's right. She's like your sister's aunt's niece or something, right?"

"Second cousin," Rhyan corrected curtly and began to absentmindedly tap her fingers against the wooden desk.

Alistair could see that his wife's mind had already left the room. His instinct was to go to her, hug her, or even just place a comforting hand on her, but for some reason he remained where he stood. He did, however, manage to let out in a somewhat soothing voice, "Is everything all right?"

Her gaze shot up towards him. "Yes." He could tell she was lying. "It's just that… there's so much to do. Your birthday is approaching quickly and I've only been home for a short time…"

Once again Alistair hesitated before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?" Rhyan had never told him the full story about what happened while she was away. She had mentioned bit and pieces and announced that all of her leads had ultimately been dead ends, but there was clearly something she left out.

"I've told you all there is to tell right now." Rhyan looked at the RSVP cards still in Alistair's hands. "Perhaps there will be more soon enough."