"All rise and pay heed!" Even through the great wooden door he stood behind Tyne could hear the herald calling across the main hall of Skyhold's main keep. "His worship, The Herald of Andraste herself, the Inquisitor, Tyne Trevelyan, is come to pronounce his Righteous Judgment!"
Taking a moment to roll his eyes, as well as make a very dramatic sigh, Tyne nodded to the guard standing next to the door. A guard, who, at this moment, had a smirk on his face.
"Yeah, yeah," Tyne sighed again. "Laugh it up Nelson. Maybe you'll be as amused at the front gate with your brother, Doderick?"
"You wouldn't!" Nelson gasped as he opened the door. "He may be my brother, but he's still a twit."
"Well, then. Nick me a couple sweetrolls tonight, and we call it even," Tyne winked as he tapped the guard on the chest with the back of his hand.
Nelson couldn't help but chuckle as he nodded. "Anything for the High Inquisitor."
With a third sigh, Tyne Trevelyan, leader of the Inquisition, stepped into the main hall, just to the side of the large, opulent, and, to his eyes anyway, overly gaudy throne. Andraste, how he hated the thing….
Walking slowly and in, he hoped at least, a somewhat regal fashion. It was a bit difficult to do dressed as he was. What with the blue sash crossing the deep red dress shirt. The black pants with that same red in the form of a stripe down the side of the legs. Heavy black boots, with the too high heel. Even carrying the stupid bastard sword that had the dragon wrapped around the hilt, it's bare blade resting on his right shoulder. He hated all that crap too.
About the only thing that made any of this worth it was standing in front of him, and to the right of the throne itself.
Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet. Ambassador for the Inquisition. And Tyne's greatest love. Even more than sweetrolls.
"Inquisitor," Josie smiled slightly, a movement that only he, most likely, could see. In her hands, like usual, was her, rather ingenious, in his opinion, small board. It held her small pot of ink, the usual small red candle that smelled slightly of elderberries, and that little metal clip that held a rather ungodly amount of stacked paper. He hated that part though.
"Dearest," Tyne muttered quietly as he winked at his lover, and was rewarded by her lowering her head as she attempted to fight off a true full smile. And the slight blush his words had brought forth.
Opening his mouth to say more, Tyne was cut off as the herald's booming voice echoed through the chamber again. "In Andraste's name! We ask for righteous and true Judgment! Punishment for the wicked! Mercy for the innocent!"
Once again, Tyne sighed as he slightly shook his head. "Blow hard," he muttered.
"Now, now," Josie whispered as she stepped closer. "The man is just doing his job. Dearest."
Her words, as always, brought a smile to his face as he turned to the assembled crowd in the hall and held aloft the Sword of the Inquisition. "You always know the right things to say, Josie," he said quietly as he turned slightly and slid the Sword home, into the sheath built into the front of the right arm of the throne.
"I know," Josie smirked." I am your Ambassador, your Worship."
Turning again, Tyne sat himself gingerly down. As impressive as the throne was to spectators, it left a bit to be desired for the bum.
"Remind me to see in Dagna can come up with some sort of cushion for this damn thing," Tyne grimaced slightly as he tried to adjust himself. "I'm not sure how many people I have sentenced to prison just to get out of this thing faster…"
His, rather poor, joke was rewarded with a small giggle from Josephine, as she held up her board to partially hide her smile from the crowd. "You're awful!" she laughed.
"You love it," Tyne shot back, not bothering to hide his own smile.
"I do," Josie acknowledged. "Now...shall we get to business?"
Many, many, Hours Later….(to Tyne)
"And…." Josephine started but paused, turning to Tyne with a slight frown. "This last one is….a bit...unusual…."
Tyne, at this point, had slid partially down in the seat, his rear numb. His chin sat on his fist, his elbow on the right arm of the throne. "Is it?" he said, perking up. "I could use something interesting."
"Yes, your Worship," Josie nodded as she stared at her board. "This one is...well…" Looking up, she gestured forward as the prisoner was brought before the Throne.
The man was large. Tyne, himself, was taller than average, and was well muscled, if not overly bulky like his father, back in Ostwick was. But this man. This man stood head and shoulders above the guards on either side of him. His muscular build looked as if he could shrug off the chains anytime he wished to.
The other thing that really stood out on the man was the impressive hood he wore. The goat skin had holes cut for his eyes and a large set of ram horns attached to the sides.
With a small shake of her head, Josephine cleared her throat and turned more the the hall as she raised her voice. "After you returned from the bog, we discovered this man Avvar Chieftain, Morvan the Under...attacking the castle….with...a...goat…." As she spoke Josie's voice slowly got more and more uncertain, finally stopping as she stared at the chained man.
"Wait…" Tyne held a hand up and he sat up fully in the throne. "Did you say...a goat?"
"Heh heh…" Morvan man chuckled. "This pageantry is unnecessary. My idiot son challenged you, against what he had been told. And his death was answered in the traditional way. Smacking your holdings with goat's blood. Either way, I shall take his sin, to clear my clan. Make your pronouncement, Inquisitor."
Tyne sat for a moment and looked at the man. Morvan stood, a grin on his face, his posture oddly relaxed for a man that clearly expected to die. But then...Tyne had an idea…
"Tyne…" Josephine whispered harshly. "You're making that smile! Nothing good comes from that smile! Stop it!"
"Now, now, Josephine," Tyne spoke loudly as he stood, still looking at the Avvar man. "There are times when I am...inspired." Turning his head to look at her, Tyne gave Josie a small wink. "Trust me."
For a moment Josephine stood, her brows drawn into a straight line, and her lips firmly pressed equally straight. "No," she half growled.
Ignoring the love of his life, as well as his probable demise, Tyne took a step forward and scowled darkly. "Chief Morvan the Under. I sentence you and your clan into exile, north, to Tervinter." Then, pausing for dramatic effect, Tyne then grinned. "With as many weapons as you can carry."
"HA HA HA!" Morvan laughed loudly over the shocked silence of the Great Hall. "So, my idiot son got us something useful after all." Then, with a nod to the Inquisitor, Morvan grinned back. "As you command, my clan and I will accept your merciful exile, to become beggars along the road north."
With a solemn nod, Tyne stepped down fully in front of the man and unlocked his manacles himself. "I just have to say. I do hope you don't intend to travel through the Jorlund Pass. I here it might be lousy with vermin."
Rubbing his wrists, Morvan nodded, his face a mask of false concern. "Indeed, I shall keep your advice in mind."
And with that, the official Judgment had ended for the month.
Except….
"Now...your Worship…."Josephine's cold voice cut through Tyne's jubilant attitude. "If you would take your seat. We can begin hearing the concerns of the commoners."
Slowly Tyne turned to face his love and his doom, his smile dying on his lips. "Now...Josie…." he started quietly.
"Don't you 'Josie' me!" she snapped, equally quiet. "Sit!" she demanded pointing to the ill padded throne.
"Yes, dearest…." Tyne muttered as she sat, gingerly. And from the corner of his eye, he saw Josephine holding her board up slightly, hiding her small smile, and slight blush.
Days later (to Tyne) Or, maybe hours (in Actuality)
"Alright...farmer Backer receives the meat of one pig to compensate him for the loss of his…." Tyne paused as he sat with the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers, and his elbows resting on his knees. "...What was it again?" Tyne asked, glancing up at a nearly equally haggard Josephine.
"Beets, your Worship," she answered with a quiet sigh.
"Right, to compensate for the loss of his beets," Tyne leaned back in the chair as he made his pronouncement.
"Thank you, Inquisitor!" the farmer, Baker said as he left the hall, followed shortly by the more irritated looking man who owned the pigs.
"Anymore?" Tyne asked, looking up at Josie, a desperate look in his eye.
With a smile, Josephine shook her head. "No, your Worship. That was the last, now we can-"
"HOLD!" a voice bellowed through the hall. "I have a grievance!"
"No...no way…" Tyne gasped in disbelief as his wide eyes stared at a nearly equally surprised Josephine.
Slowly, both Tyne and Josephine turned to see a large bear of a man, his thick dark black hair more than a match for even Blackwall, marching through a gap the crowd quickly made for him. And following in his wake was a slight woman, maybe five feet at the most, with long golden hair that nearly touched the ground, if not for the ornate braid around her head, similar to the one Cassandra wore.
And behind them….was nearly the entire Trevelyan family.
"I would like to know why I have to hear, from your Uncle Phillipe, of all blasted people, that you had a duel in the streets of Val Royeaux?" George, Bann of the Ostwick, father to the Inquisitor, bellowed.
"Husband," the small blonde woman, Tyne's mother, Marigold, spoke quietly to her husband, lightly touching him on the arm.
"Right," George grumbled clearing his throat while giving his tiny wife a leery look, before turning a dark gaze back to his son. "And your poor mother," he gestured to Marigold, who stood, her eyes downcast, a small handkerchief held to her eye. "Why is your poor mother hearing how you failed to inform her of your marriage to an Antivan woman?!"
Now, Tyne had slid down in the throne, and had propped his head on his fist, right until the last sentence. Then he sat bolt upright and stared at Josephine, only to see her stare back, her eyes as wide as he had ever seen them, and her board, clutched to her chest, almost to the point of knocking off her candle stub.
"Father, mother," Tyne scrambled as he turned back to his parents. " We haven't marri-"
"What is this I hear?!" Another male voice shouted out over the crowd. This voice, however, had a rather thick Antivan accent, far more pronounced than Josephine's. "Some miscreant had wedded my daughter without my, or my own, poor wife's knowledge!?"
Through the new gap in the crowd, a man slightly below average height emerged. His swarthy skin and receding, yet deep black hair proclaimed him, indeed, Antivan, but it was the light of intelligence in his eye as he twirled his rather impressive, mustache, that truly made it clear he was Josephine's father, Yves Montilyet.
Behind him, was a regal looking woman, taller than her husband stepped forward, a black veil over her eyes. "Truly, I come to hear of a brute who had stolen away my eldest daughter, and sweeping her to this forlorn mountain, imprisoning her. Now...now to hear he has wedded her?" With her proclamation, the woman, Daniela, turned away, falling into her husband's arms, even as the man shot Tyne a murderous glare.
Blinking, Tyne turned slightly to see Josephine taking a half step forward, her hand reaching out slightly, a shocked and horrified look on her beautiful face.
"Oh...what a terrible..thing...that has happened...before us all. My poor...poor..sister hath been...ruined," A small woman, stepped forward now, laying a hand upon Josephine's mother. Tyne knew that voice, though the last time he had heard it had been behind a mask . And her face was so similar to Josephine's that it almost looked like a smaller younger version of the woman he loved.
"Really, dear?" Josephine's mother sighed and stood up, shaking her head at Yvette. "We spent all that money on acting lessons, and this is what you can do? I dare say we got swindled…." the woman sniffed, this time in disdain.
George turned and chuckled. "It's probably for the best. I'm pretty sure much more and the two of them might have had heart attacks."
"Now, now," Marigold said, her voice cheerful and bright, as it always was. "We've had our fun. Now, maybe we could adjourn to someplace private for a...conversation." The last word was spoken with the chilling finality of death itself as Marigold's delicate brow furrowed in a murderous glare.
"Indeed, let us," Daniela agreed. Her voice and expression equally as terrifying as Marigold's
"Oh…" Tyne started as he looked at Josephine.
"...shit…" Josie finished, terror in her eyes as she looked back at Tyne.
The mood was festive. Servants moved around the...well...honestly, Tyne wasn't sure he had ever been in this room before. It was like a study...except it was far too large. It wasn't a meeting hall, too small for that. But the furnishings were all lush, velvets and satins on the pillows and covering the thick, padded couches and chairs. Warm blankets sat in various places to help ward off the cold oh the mountain stronghold, assuming that the large fireplace didn't take care of it. The thing took up half of the interior wall. Even the rugs, think and from...again...Tyne had no clue. They were just fancy.
At least the servants were the normal people he was used to. Thom, Kella, Drumm….the usual lot. Except they seemed to be wearing their better uniforms. The ones designated for visiting higher dignitaries. And they moved around the room quickly and efficiently as always. Except they carried flasks of spiced wine, or warm brandy. Drumm seemed to have a small tray with various finger foods upon it. Four or five different types…. And Tyne was mentally babbling.
Currently, the Inquisitor stood with his elbow on the mantle of the large fireplace as he slowly rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was also trying to will this entire situation away. Maybe as some sort of dream from the Fade? An assault by Corypheus was probably not going to happen and save him at any moment either….
"So…" A melodic, sing song voice came from over his shoulder. "How is my little brother doing?"
Violet. His sister was two years older than he was, and the heir to the Bannorn of Ostwick. And his dark nemesis. She was still single, even at twenty four, and not for lack of beauty. Even Tyne, begrudgingly, had to admit that. She was tall, not quite six feet, and her hair was a pitch black like her father's unruly mane. Luckily for Violet, she had received a more manageable cascading wave from her mother. Her eyes matched her hair, deep, dark and piercing. Always looking for any flaws in her brother that she could exploit.
Without looking up, Tyne sighed. "Vi….could you just push me into the fire here, and be done with it? Please?"
With a rich laugh,Violet dropped a hand on her brother's shoulder as she shook her head. "Why would I do something like that?" she asked, her wide grin promised much more suffering for him this evening.
"Yeah…" Tyne finally looked up. "That would be a rare kindness. Not exactly something you are known for." Then, slowly, Tyne looked Violet up and down, noting how she was wearing leather pants and boots. The thick grey tunic, left almost halfway open did absolutely nothing to mask her more...feminine...charms. Which, for Violet, was pretty much normal. The only real surprise was her lack of sword on her wide belt.
At his pause, Violet's eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're thinking something rude, aren't you?" she accused, stabbing a finger into Tyne's chest.
"What? No!" Tyne assured his sister as he rubbed the place Violet had jabbed him. "I was not noting how you are still unmarried, have no prospects, and dress like a well to do stable boy."
Violet's eyes blazed with a sudden anger as she took a half step forward and raised her fist. Luckily, for Tyne, whatever attack, verbal or physical was cut short as his Great-Aunt Lucille approached the pair.
Lucille had that look of a woman that could be anywhere from sixty years old to a hundred and twenty and nobody would really be able to tell. As she approached the siblings, Tyne noted that, despite her age, she still stood tall, her back was ramrod straight and her dark eyes sparkled with intelligence. Or malice. It was often hard to tell with Lucille. Her hair was snowy white and intricately braided and spiraled into a bun nearly the size of the head it was atop of. The bun itself was held in place with several strategically placed hairpins and combs. Two of them, Tyne noted, were ones he had sent her, himself.
It was Lucille's dress that really drew the eye, however. It was in the charcoal grey and red of the Inquisition's colors, cut into a dress that even Vivienne would be impressed by. And was probably the latest trend in Orlais. Even at her age, Lucille was always on top. She could probably even give Leliana tips on gathering information.
"Great-Aunty!" Tyne called out warmly as he opened his arms and stepped away from his vengeful sister. "I'm so happy you could come and visit!"
"Stow it," Lucille furrowed her brow into the kind of frown that could probably turn a person to stone, if she unleashed it's full power. "I heard the full report of your dealings at the Winter Palace."
For a moment, Tyne was taken aback, as well as more than slightly terrified. His knuckles throbbed in memory of Aunt Lucille's etiquette lessons. "I...uh...well, it's like…" he stammered, unable to look away from the older woman, lest she rip him limb from limb. Verbally. Probably. He hoped….
"Yes well," Lucille sniffed. "As I understand it, you uncovered a spy ring, found the evidence to prove Gaspard's planning of a coup attempt, Venatori intending to release demons, and even patched things up between Celene and Briala? Oh, and apparently danced possibly with Floriane. Does that about sum it up?"
"Well...yes, that is about it, I think…." Tyne nodded as he straightened his doublet. He also noted how his Aunt failed to use any of the titles owned by the people she mentioned. "Except the fight to the death with Grand Duchess Florian at the courtyard fountain."
'Ah...yes," Lucille nodded slightly, before pausing and tapping a small folding fan against her chin. "I suppose you get a passing grade then, my dear." Lucille then smiled as she stepped forward and beckoned Tyne down. "Come, come, give an old woman some help." As Tyne leaned down, Lucille kissed him lightly on the cheek.
"All in all Aunty," Tyne smiled as he stood back up. "I probably would never have survived the evening without all the things you ham...er.." Tyne stopped and swallowed at the ghost of a look that passed over Lucille's face. "I mean...that you taught me, so carefully."
"Yes, of course, dear. One has to be prepared for the Game," Lucille smirked with a wink. "They play for keeps in Val Royeaux. Not like the little chitterings like back in the Free Marches."
Tyne frowned and opened his mouth to say something about his Grand-Aunt playing the Game, but then thought better of it. "Yes, yes," Tyne decided to switch tracks. "If it wasn't for what you taught me, and Josephine, I can't imagine I would have succeeded with half of what I managed."
"Ah!" Came the call from behind him, as Violet found her moment to pounce. "Yes! Dear brother!" Violet stepped next to Tyne and draped her arm over his shoulder as she paused, fighting, and failing, to stop the smirk from erupting across her face. "Do tell us of your adventures with the fetching Lady Josephine Montilyet!"
As she spoke, Violet's voice gradually got louder until it carried over the entire room, both silencing the party as well as drawing the attention of every person present. Even the serving staff. Much to Tyne's dismay.
"Yes, indeed," Josephine's father, Yves agreed, stepping out of the gathering and twirling his moustache. "I would very much enjoy hearing about the duel that was fought over my daughter's hand. With the individual that had been arranged for her to wed, no less."
"Ummm…" Tyne said, eloquently as he slowly backed away, only to find himself trapped by the fireplace. Which he considered escaping into.. "I..uh…"
"Father, we will have none of that," Josephine said firmly as she stepped next to her love's side. "If you truly wish to go that route, we could always have the conversation as to when, exactly this betrothal was made. Hmm?"
Yves blinked once before shrinking back slightly. "Ah, but Josie, you see…."
"But, nothing!" Josephine snapped, stepping forward stiffly and raising a finger into her father's rather pale face. "I distinctly recalling you telling me that you would never arrange for your daughters to wed. 'Love should bloom true, from Andraste's grace. Not forced by the hands of men.' Yes?" Josephine almost growled as she stepped forward once more, following her fleeing father. "Those were your exact words, were they not?"
"Ah…" Yves stammered as he looked to his wife and other daughter for assistance, only to find cold stares. "I..I just wanted to be sure you were taken care of!" he exclaimed. "You are getting to the age where...your...umm…." Yves slowly stopped talking as he realized just what he had said. "Ah…"
Josephine stood stock still. Her face was held in the scowl as it was before, her hand still extended in front of her as she was pointing under her father's chin. Except now her eyes seemed to have lost focus as her hand slowly curled into a fist.
Tyne saw the clenching of Josephine's jaw, the subtle shift of her weight. He saw the little flexes of her muscles.
"Well, moving onto other subjects," Tynen spoke, loudly as he stepped next to his love and took her fist into his hand, pulling it to his mouth and giving it a light kiss.
The transformation was immediate. Subtle, yet obvious to the spectators, as Josephine turned slightly in Tyne's direction. A light blush faintly touched her cheeks as a gentle smile touched her lips. As the tension left her entire body, her eyes light with an internal glow.
"I….," Josephine started before her mind caught up to the situation. " *ahem*, Yes, Lord Inquisitor. That would probably be best."
"Okay, that is just too sappy fo…." Violet's voice started before a quiet smack was heard."Mother!'
"Shut up, Vi."
The Great Dining Hall
As the servants collected up the soup bowls,Tyne leaned back in his chair and let his eyes roam over the people seated around the table.
As the Lord of the manor, Tyne had naturally been seated at the head of the table, in a rather overly large and gaudy chair. At least this one is somewhat comfortable….
To his left sat the Trevelyan family, Violet to his immediate hand, followed by his father, mother, Great-Aunt, then, at the end, his younger siblings.
To his right, the Montilyets sat, with Joshephine to his hand. Next to her sat her mother, then father, sister, brothers, and a small group of cousins he hadn't noticed earlier. Though, in Tyne's defense, a lot was going on.
So far, the talk during this meal had been entirely too….Neutral. 'Oh, this set of forks is quite nice.' 'Say, this salad dressing is lovely.' 'I quite like this soup.'
Tyne didn't trust it. Nor did he trust Violet's wide smile, as her eyes flitted between Josephine and himself. There was a trap here someplace, he knew it.
"I think we have danced quite enough," Auntie Lucile broke the small silence that had settled. "The children should have learned their lessons by now hmm?"
"I concur," Josephine's mother agreed as she placed her napkin on the table. In her seat, she turned slightly to face Tyne and Josephine, inclining her head slightly. "Do forgive our theatrics, Inquisitor. As you can imagine, we were not particularly pleased with our daughter running off to join a heretical movement…."
"Mother," Josephine started before her mother raised a hand, quieting her.
"You can probably also guess our reaction when we recieved information on the incident in Haven. We were, of course, overjoyed to hear of your survival and the rise of Skyhold. However, the only reason we did not attempt to recall Josephine, was knowing of her works. Favors curried, strings pulled," Daniella smiled warmly at her daughter, who, for her part blushed slightly as she looked down at the table.
"The deeds of yourself, and the Inquisition are already legendary," Daniella continued. "Songs, poetry, books. All are being written and sung. We heard of the events of the Winter Palace, and our hearts swelled with pride."
"We even received notice that the two of you, together, were able to reverse the Orlesian ruling, outlawing us to trade within the Empire. Though," Daniella paused with a small smile. "I understand your efforts with the Judge was quite...Taxing?"
"Uh…" Tyne blushed heavily as he turned away, looking at the ceiling. The floor. His salad fork. Everyplace except Josephine's narrowed eyes.
"However," Daniella spoke again, this time a certain amount of disapproval in her voice. "We also heard of our dutiful daughter, working to undermine my husband's, however misguided, attempts to secure his daughter a comfortable future…"
"Really, now," Yves huffed quietly, though coughed into his hand and turned away as Daniella's eyes moved to him.
"We also, on the same day, mind you," Daniella frowned slightly. "We received reports as to the Inquisitor himself, challenging Lord Otranto to a duel. For our daughter's hand, no less. As romantic as the notion might be, we were more than a bit put out."
Josephine turned to face her mother, her own face a mask of determination. "Mother, I love you dearly. You and father both. And sort of Yvette."
"Hey!"
"But I am an adult. I have been making decisions for the family and holding for many years, with no complaints from either you, or father. I have sacrificed time, blood and tears. But my Love. I will choose whom I love, and whom I marry!"
"Josie," Tyne's voice was quiet, as he gently lay a hand over Josephine's fist. "Your mother is expressing the concerns of a parent."
Her head turning to regard Tyne, Josephine looked down at his hand. How it cradled hers. Then, slowly, her fingers relaxed and twined with his. "I...I do not take back my words," she said, her tone calmer, but still filled with steel. "I will follow my heart in this. This is my one, selfish wish."
"Oh, Josie!" Yves cried as he stood and rushed his daughter. His arms wrapped tightly around her as tears streamed openly down his face. "You've grown into such a wonderful, strong and proud woman! I can hardly believe you are the same little girl that came, teary eyed, to our room when it thundered, even at fourteen! I- *HOOF*"
"Nobody heard that," Josephine said quietly as her father slowly off her fist, slumping to his knees. Yves's arms wrapped around his midsection as he wheezed, trying to catch his breath.
"HA!" Violet burst out, slapping a her hand on the table. "She's already a perfect Trevelyan!
After Main Course
As the servants placed small bowls of lemon scented water in front of each quest, with which to wash their hands, Tyne smiled.
After the slight unpleasantness in the beginning, both families now spoke openly with each other. Each side regaling the other with tales of fantastic deeds done by forbearers. Personal triumphs and childhood stories.
Even if some of those stories were at his expense.
"...And then he just, stood up. Covered head to toe in mud and muck," Tyne's father was almost standing as he gestured wildly. "And he looked right at Violet, then at me, and he says 'Father. I think I may have lost my horse.'"
"He didn't!" Josephine giggled, her hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her laughter.
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," Tyne sighed as he squeezed his love's hand, lightly.
"I'm sorry my darling, I just…" Josie's laughter died as she realized what she had said.
"Oh, Josie," Violet snickered. "You can call him 'darling', 'dearest, or any of that lot. It is clear to anybody with a brain how ridiculously in love with each other you two are. Besides. We are all family here."
Josephine sat still, her hand clasped tightly around Tynes as she stared, wide eyed at the grinning Trevelyn hier. Then, suddenly, tears filled her eyes as began to stream down her face. Slowly, Josephine rocked side to side as he voice hitched in her throat.
"Andraste's knickers!" Violet cursed as she pushed her seat back from the table. "What did I say? Maker, whatever it was, I'm so sorry!"
Suddenly, heaving herself up, Josephine half walked, half ran around the table and grabbed Violet by the front of her tunic, pulling the startled, and, honestly, frightened woman to her feet.
Then, Josephine wrapped her arms around Violets body, her tears soaking into the rough fabric. "Thank you….thank you...thank you…." Josie squeezed out as she cried tears of happiness.
"Oh, Josie," Violet smiled and wrapped the Antivan into a warm hug.
Later (after Josephine was calmer)
"So….I think I've held off long enough," Tyne spoke loudly, as he set down his dessert fork. "How, exactly, did this whole scenario come about?"
"Why son, whatever do you mean?" Marigold smiled sweetly. Honestly, Tyne's mother could probably sharm Corypheus into surrendering. And probably get the Magister to apologize for the mess, and sweep up a little.
Tyne, however, was not swayed. "Mother, there is no way that you, nor the Montilyet, should have met."
"Oh, hardly," Aunt Lucille scoffed. "Boy, you have been to my balls. You know the type of people I meet. I could have introduced you to more of the Orlesian court than young Josephine. Or your spymaster. Whom I have met several times in the past."
"Of course," Danella nodded. "We are acquainted. You two clearly do not remember, but you have met before."
"Well," George shrugged. "You were both very little. There is almost no way you would remember."
"Besides," Yves chuckled. "When we heard about the goings on, you can bet we would have looked into the matter, as well as who the culprits were."
"Yeah, my people came across the Montilyet people," Violet shook her head ruefully.
Flabbergasted, Tyne looked between each person. "So you got together and planned this confrontation?"
"Andraste no!" Yves laughed. "That part is pure coincidence!"
"What?" Josephine asked flatly.
"Honest!" Yvette blurted out, unable to contain herself any longer. "We met up at the inn at the base of the mountain! The bit in the Hall was my idea!"
"Is that so?" Josephine's voice took on a slight bladed tone.
"It was," Danella nodded. "Yvette can be quite clever. Every now and again."
"Well….that is good to know," Josephine nodded, a promise of retaliation in her sharp gaze.
"Pardon me, sir," Crem, one of Bull's people approached. Tyne had seldom seen the man out of his armor, but now he sported an Inquisition cut formal uniform. "The preparations are finished."
"Excellent!" Tyne grinned, clasping Crem's shoulder. "We will be there in a moment. Try to make sure Sera and Bull don't do anything….weird."
"Yeah...right," Crem snorted with a smirk. "I'm not the Maker, but I'll see what I can do. And by the by, It's about damn time."
As Crem left, Tyne turned back to see Josephine looking at him with a puzzled expression.
With a wink to her, Tyne stood slowly, while tapping a glass with a fork. However, nobody really seemed to notice. Honestly, he grumbled to himself. I always thought that was stupid anyway.
"Hey!" Tyne called out, this time gathering the attention of the gathered people. "As you are all here, I would like to adjourn to the main hall. It is short notice, but I have prepared a little something to make up for my social indiscretion in Val Royeax."
When the Inquisition arrived, they knew the Main Hall would be the political as well as social center of Skyhold, if not the Inquisition as a whole.
With that in mind, the workers paid loving, and careful attention to detail while rebuilding the Hall. From the brilliant stained glass to the delicate carving on the buttresses, to the finely polished wood ot the railings.
The Hall itself was a massive room. Dozens of people gathered each month to witness the Inquisitor's Judgements. Groups of diplomats, socialites and other dignitaries regularly gathered her with room to spare.
Now, however, the Hall was filled to beyond capacity. Humans, dwarves and elves. Nobles, and commoners. Catra, and Orzammar representatives. Dailish and City elves. They all pressed together. They filled the floor, the balconies. A few daring people even sat on the rafters.
As The Trevelyn and Montilyet families entered the Hall, the low murmur of people quieted into a near dead silence.
Taken aback, both families looked at each other, confused as guards quietly escorted them to the steps of the central dias, and to each side of the Throne.
Behind the Throne itself stood the Companions. The Inquisition's inner council. Those individuals that stood shoulder to shoulder with the Inquisitor and shed blood, sweat and tears with Josephine.
Now they stood, all dressed in the Inquisition's formal uniform. Each crisp and straight, even Sera, and Cole's. And each of them smiling broadly.
"Tyne…" Josephine said quietly, as if afraid her voice would echo through the silent chamber. "What is going on?"
In answer, Tyne gently took her hand, and led her to the center of the dias, before the Dragon Maw Throne.
There he stood, and clasped both of her hands in his own as he smiled a gentle loving smile. "I'm a little sorry to put you on the spot, Josephine," he said quietly, only for her.
Incomprehension on her face, Josephine glanced at the filled Hall, then at their friends before looking back to Tyne. "I am a little worried…." she admitted with a weak smile. "What are you…."
Then it dawned on her. Slowly, Josephine's eyes grew wide as Tyne stepped back from he and, still holding her hands, lowered himself to one knee before her.
"Josephine," Tyne spoke loudly, his strong voice echoing through the Hall. "You are the spark that lit the flames of my heart. Before you, I was nothing. Without you, I am less than nothing. I fought the darkness in this world for one thing. For one reason. For one person. For your smile, I shall push back the mountains. For a kind word, I shall part the seas. For your love, I will bring you the stars. And for the honor of taking me as your husband, I shall give you all that I am. All that I was. And all that I ever will be."
For a long moment, Josephine simply stood. Her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open in shock. Then, stepping forward, she sank to her own knee, bringing Tyne's hands, clasped firmly in her own, up to her chest, she stared into his eyes for another long moment.
Then, like the sun breaking the dawn, slowly a smile spread across Josephine's face. "My Lord Inquisitor," her voice, just as strong as Tyne's, broke the silence. "My heart. My is nothing that could keep me from you. I will take you as my husband. Together we shall make a new dawn, as one."
A roar, a cheer of joy, and happiness filled the hall. Hats were tossed in the air. Hands struck another's back. A fairy tale had begun. This time, for real.