With her eyes closed, Isileth concentrated on the warmth of the sun on her face and body, feeling its heat penetrate her skin and work its magic on the tired muscles beneath. She knew it was not really doing that, of course, but that mental image aided the meditation state she was attempting to attain. The gentle perfumes of the flowers were also helpful, deep breaths drawing the sweet scents into her like a healing balm.
She could feel the texture of the simple wooden bench she sat on against her legs, sense the slightest breeze ruffle the crest of her white hair, hear the buzzing of insects in her ears. She drew these impressions in and used them to replace the fatigue, the worries, and the pain of her healing injuries, both large and small. In this way the struggles and losses of a completed expedition could be put behind her in preparation for the next. Something in the Frostback Basin, apparently, if Lace's scouts were right.
Finally feeling replenished, Isileth opened her eyes and looked around Skyhold's garden. It never ceased to amaze her how the little square of green could survive so high up in the mountains – another of the many mysteries of Skyhold. The Inquisitor was always glad that of the many strange enigmas she had encountered since the whole crazy business had started at Haven this was by far the most pleasing and the least dangerous.
Across the garden the qunari woman could see Morrigan sat beside her son on the benches next to the stone gazebo. The legendary witch appeared to be giving Kieran a lesson in something that required a huge book to explain; the book itself rested on the boy's knees and he was reading it intently as his mother talked.
Suddenly Isileth found Kieran was staring right at her; his mother seemed not to have noticed. They looked at each other for a long moment, and Isileth wondered what it was that he saw with those strange eyes of his.
"I always find it so peaceful here."
The voice broke into Isileth's thoughts and scattered them out of reach. In the moment it took to blink Keiran's gaze returned to his book as if his eyes had never left it. Perhaps they had not. With a sigh and a sense of loss she could not entirely articulate, the Inquisitor turned to face the person who had spoken.
Cassandra stood in the archway to Isileth's left, leaning against the stone pillar. She had an uncharacteristic, almost wistful smile on her face as she took in the garden, her relaxed posture very different from the way she usually held herself. This changed as she looked to her Inquisitor, becoming more guarded; something in Isileth's face must have spoken of her ill-defined irritation.
"I did not mean to disturb you," the Seeker said, her tone both apologetic and stiff. "I will leave you be if you do not wish for my company." Isileth took a deep breath and shook her head.
"No, it's okay," she said, "I was just..." She frowned. "I'm not really sure what I was doing. You surprised me, I guess." Isileth gestured to the space on the planks beside her. "Please, I'd enjoy some company."
"Thank you." Cassandra pushed herself upright and walked down the steps before taking the offered place. She watched Morrigan and Keiran herself for a moment. "After all the stories I have heard of her," Cassandra said quietly, "all the tales of the witch who fought the Blight, I would never have expected to see her like this. A mother teaching her son." She shook her head. "But then, his father was an exceptional man, and I am sure he is responsible for this new side of her."
"That sounds a little like the start of a story to me," Isileth told her, smiling slightly.
"I met him once," Cassandra replied, nodding. "Warden-Commander Cousland visited his Orlesian counterpart just the once, in Val Royeaux, and I was present. He was... surprisingly modest." The Seeker glanced at Isileth. "Not unlike yourself."
"You mean he wasn't ten feet tall and didn't eat his enemies for breakfast?" Isileth grinned.
"I mean," Cassandra responded firmly, "he was not given to boasting about his deeds, and preferred to make light of things." She stopped for a moment, recalling that distant day. "There was also something... compelling about him. A... nobility of purpose, perhaps, that went beyond his years. Fighting the Blight made him who he was. I have no doubt that it was he that brought about this change in Morrigan. He and their child, that is."
Isileth thought back to the conversations she had had with Morrigan, about Cousland and their son, and agreed that Cassandra definitely had the right of it.
"Times of great upheaval often bring out the best in people." Isileth shrugged. "And the worst."
"Such it is with you, my friend." Cassandra was looking at her intently. "It is hard not to see such pivotal figures as chosen for their roles. Chosen, for good or ill."
"Chosen by the Maker?" Cassandra nodded, and Isileth just shook her head. "I know there are a lot of people who believe that, want it to be true, but..." She sighed. "Everything I've seen tells me it wasn't fate, just coincidence that put me there instead of someone, anyone else." The qunari grimaced. "There was no plan to it. It just was."
Cassandra clearly saw something in Isileth's face, however much she tried to hide it.
"But...?" the Nevarran prompted gently.
"But..." Isileth sighed in something resembling defeat. "To happen to be just the sort of person who could do what was needed... To take up that orb. Survive the explosion. Wield the power of the Mark, the Anchor, against Corypheus. Be a leader, however much I just don't want to be one." She made a face. "Some might say that's a couple dozen coincidences too far."
"And that is why they name you Herald Of Andraste." Cassandra seemed to be fighting the urge to smile and not entirely succeeding.
"I'm happy believing I'm in control of my own future," the Herald stated, sounding a little angry, or possibly petulant. "If nothing else, at least I get to make my own decisions that way."
"Umm..." Suddenly Cassandra looked awkward. "That was... something I wanted to talk to you about."
"Conversations that start that way rarely go well, in my experience," Isileth said, hoping that the subject would be far removed from religious issues. I am my own person, she reminded herself. There's nothing controlling my destiny but me.
"I know it's not my place to say," Cassandra continued, looking more uncomfortable by the second, "but..." She trailed off, apparently uncertain how to proceed.
"Just spit it out," Isileth said, making it sound more like an order than she had intended. Cassandra seemed to gather herself.
"Why Sera?" she blurted out, looking almost surprised at her outburst. "Why her, of all people?" Isileth took a deep breath and tried not to see the question as some kind of insult.
"Why her what?" the Inquisitor asked quietly but with a hint of steel in her tone. Cassandra made that throaty sound of exasperation and ploughed on.
"Why take her as a lover, when she is just so... so..." The Seeker frowned and made pained expressions as she struggled to find the right words, if they even existed. "Undisciplined. Undirected. Infuriating. Disrespectful. Impulsive. Insulting. Foul-mouthed. Immature." A shaking of the head expressed every other way she did not approve of Sera very eloquently. "She is just... unsuitable."
"For the Herald Of Andraste, you mean?" Isileth's voice was surprisingly calm... perhaps worryingly so, if one knew her well. Cassandra nodded mutely, the look in her eyes showing concern that she had gone too far. Isileth just shrugged.
"She makes me happy." The Inquisitor's simple response was perhaps not what Cassandra had been expecting. Just saying it put a smile on Isileth's face as it brought Sera to mind, as so many things often seemed to. She could practically hear her lover blowing a raspberry in reply to Cassandra's criticisms before grinning cheekily and responding with biting criticisms of her own.
"Is that it?" Cassandra looked incredulous. Stunned, maybe.
"Of course not," Isileth replied easily, the weight of Cassandra's censure slipping away easier than she had expected it would. "She can be frustrating, I'll give you that, but..." After a moment's thought she continued. "Her life has made her the way she is. She can be gentle, and she cares a lot more than you think. She's dedicated her life to helping those too helpless to help themselves. She makes me laugh, and she keeps me grounded. Reminds me there's more to save in Thedas than Chantries and empires and kingdoms." Isileth looked at the Seeker intently. "You only see her as she is with you. You don't see the... pain she carries. And you don't see the tenderness either." A smile became a grin. "I'm quite glad about that part, actually." Cassandra actually blushed.
"She doesn't have the discipline of a Seeker or a Templar," Isileth went on, her grin fading. "She doesn't have the focus born of years of training or strict duty, or a faith as strong as yours or Leliana's. Her faith is a little more... well, it's very her." She chuckled. "I don't think even she really gets it most of the time." She paused again, considering her words carefully. "She says what she thinks and she means what she says. She's got a lot more heart than most I've met. I think your problem, Cassandra, is you see me as the Herald before you see me as myself. Her being my lover has nothing to do with being Inquisitor, or with Andraste or the Maker. It's because I love her."
They both seemed equally shocked by this very public pronouncement, and sat in silence for a time watching the garden. The denizens of Skyhold went about their business around them. Trees waved in the wind and insects buzzed.
"You are right," Cassandra admitted eventually. "I sometimes forget that you are not just the Herald or the Inquisitor, but a woman. Only a woman, perhaps, in your own mind." She sighed. "I am often too quick to judge others," she continued with a trace of bitterness in her tone, "as you know. Perhaps I need to get to know her better." Cassandra frowned. "I only hope she feels as strongly about you as you do about her."
"Perhaps you could ask her," Isileth suggested only half-seriously.
"Yes," the Seeker replied gravely, nodding, "perhaps I should do that." Isileth just could not tell if she was actually joking or not. She hoped she was joking. Cassandra turned to look at the Inquisitor more directly. "I am sorry if I spoke out of turn. No... I did speak out of turn, and I am sorry. I did not mean to-"
"Cassandra," Isileth said gently, "it's okay. You were just looking out for a friend. In a slightly... clumsy... rude... sort of way." Cassandra just groaned, mortified, and looked like she was trying to fade into the stonework. "We can't all get straightforward romances like in those books you read, you know." Cassandra blinked.
"You... actually read one?"
"I got Varric to get me a copy so I could see what the fuss was all about." Isileth smirked. "I'm lending my copy to Dorian next."
"You are really... quite infuriating at times," Cassandra said in an exasperated tone. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "That would explain the attraction to Sera, of course."
Isileth's laughter drew the stares of everyone else in the garden.