Author's note: A few lines were taken from Sappho in chapter four, masquerading now as elven poetry. The title of the work is also adapted from one of her lines.

This work is for the 2015 Dragon Age Big Bang. The accompanying artwork can be found here: shellactank. tumblr . (c)(o)(m) (/) post / dragonagebb2015


It wasn't the smell of warm oatmeal with just that hint of cinnamon that Sera always added to it that woke Juniper. Nor was it the sound of Iron Bull's laughter, or the quiet murmured response of Solas. She had never been an early riser, something that she thought she should somehow be ashamed of, being the Inquisitor as she was and having her people rise before her. Shouldn't someone of her importance rise with the dawn or something like that? It was how the tales always went…

None of those things awoke her, though - what made her finally decide to jump out of bed was the rush of wings, the strangely musical call of Leliana's birds. Was it that they truly sounded like the peal of bells or was it just because she knew what burden they'd be carrying, her anticipation weaving the beauty of their calls? That burden of delicate but strong parchment, lightly scented with lavender, gold seal perfectly centered, either from meticulousness or years of practice, or more likely both...

She pulled a shirt over her head as she emerged, ran a hand through her hair to get it to settle down. She and Sera had the same short bed-head issues, though the other elf didn't care nearly as much. It's not like Juniper had anyone to impress out here, but she did at least like to make sure she didn't have leaves or bugs in her hair. And living outside as she had for her entire life, she had had both and worse. Solas and Bull, of course, were above such things. She had thought, many times, of shaving her head bald, just sidestep all the issues. Horns wouldn't be so bad either.

One of their scouts had retrieved the message from the raven, and was already crossing the camp to give it to her before Juniper got half way. She acknowledged the kissing noises from Sera only with a rude Dalish gesture - Sera didn't get it, but she could tell Solas did by the quiet sound of disapproval and Bull as well by the guffaw of laughter. Juniper wasn't about to stop and explain what it meant, though, and simply hugged the packet to her chest, grabbed a hardened roll, and went back to her tent.

She ran her fingers over the folded paper, as if by touching it she could somehow connect with the woman who wrote it, unlock her voice in the words, the breathless laughter, the flushed cheeks, secret smiles…

Of course, much of this, Juniper was sure, was in her own head - at least the secret smiles bit. She didn't know how these shemlen courted each other, but Ambassador Montiliyet seemed particularly difficult, or maybe it was that she just wasn't interested. Juniper told herself that, but then there would be something - some smile or little word or fleeting touch - that roped her right back on in again. It was never this difficult in dalish clans - one just had to perform some task that made one worthy and then there you go! As long as the task was accepted, then everyone was happy. Juniper thought that she'd been performing many tasks that made her worthy, but so far nothing had seemed to work. Of course… Juniper hadn't ever been this serious before, hadn't engaged in this formal sort of courtship. She'd had lovers, exploring and being explored in her youth, but it had never been serious. It hadn't seemed like the best idea, getting serious. She was occupied with her training, her studies, and no one in her clan had interested her enough. Getting in an actual relationship, founded on courtship and not being that interested… well, that seemed a recipe for drama that the First really shouldn't be involved in if she was one day going to take on the duties of Keeper.

So she hadn't gone to this length before; perhaps she would have always been terrible at it. Or, maybe she could go easy on herself and say that it was just a difference of cultures, getting things all mixed up… or again, maybe, if she wanted to be harsher to herself, the ambassador just wasn't into her. If she wasn't, though, wouldn't it have been better to tell Juniper? Josephine was direct, yet tactful, enough for that.

But then there were the letters…

My dearest Inquisitor Lavellan,

How did you ever manage to get that flower all the way back to Skyhold so perfectly preserved? No doubt it is some magical aspect that I could not understand, but do promise me that you will at least try to explain the next time I am blessed by your presence here in my office.

I have kept it in a vase on my desk so that I might enjoy it for as long as possible and think of you. I worry often about you, Inquisitor, though I know that this is silly of me and that you will be just fine. I got the idea, however, yesterday that perhaps I might enjoy your flower even longer...

Our gardeners are so talented, Inquisitor, as you know. They have extracted seeds for me, promise that they will have a potted crystal grace by the end of the season. They were most excited about the plant itself, and though I am made to understand that it is a rare herb, I am more content to listen to the musical sound it makes from the breeze through my open window, and wonder if that was how you found it in the first place? I do hope you will tell me.

It is almost a distraction, though a welcome one. Last evening, we had a sudden storm - rain, not snow - and I opened the window as much as I dared to let in the wildness of the breeze (you can be assured that I took measures to secure my papers). The music of the crystal grace rivaled the finest Orlesian symphonies, and I admit I got very little work done, so very enchanted by it as I was.

I do hope that this letter finds you safe. I have included for you a sketch of the mother cat in the kitchen that I wrote to you about two letters ago - she had her kittens! They are lovely, so perfect, and my drawing does not do them justice. You will have to return to Skyhold soon to see them for yourself.

Yours, cordially,

Josephine Montiliyet

Ambassador to the Inquisition

Juniper could hear Josephine's voice in her head, could hear the scratch of the quill on parchment, could smell the ink, the hot, fresh wax. She could see the way the woman would have smiled during certain parts, how she would exclaim and give that startled laugh of hers over the kittens - her laugh always seemed surprised, as if she hadn't known it was coming. Was it really unstudied, artless? Or, as with everything else about her, was that laugh, too, carefully crafted?

Juniper wanted to believe that, yes, some laughs were for others, a facade, a character she played, but surely there had to be one laugh, just one, that was all Josephine, nothing more? Would she have laughed like that over the kittens? Would Juniper ever be able to inspire such a thing?

She smoothed her finger over the little sketch at the corner of the sheet, all careful lines with a steady hand. Had she studied drawing as part of her upbringing? Was that part of a shemlen highborn's education? So much she didn't know…

She laid the letter over her face, closed her eyes underneath it, and breathed in the scented paper, wondering if Josephine ordered it like this or if she scented it herself? Juniper chose to believe that she scented it herself.

And she stayed there for another half hour, thinking of the woman who wrote the letter, before she heard some of the tents being broken down. Okay then… time to stop daydreaming and start working - they had a lot of ground to cover today, and she'd already wasted a good portion of the morning. But she got these letters only once every couple of weeks! She thought she deserved one lazy morning every couple of weeks. At least that was what she told herself when she finally, for real, exited the tent, bed roll already secured and ready to fit to her pack. Time to be the Inquisitor again.