"Stroud wasn't your fault,"
A voice broke Inquisitor Lavellan from her reverie as she tore her eyes from the tankard she'd been staring blankly into. Hawke was standing next to her at the bar of the tavern, glacial eyes boring into her with a clarity that nearly made her squirm.
"Of course not," Adhlea replied, thumb ghosting the rim of the tankard. "It's nobody's fault. He did what he had to do. He was a good man who made a noble sacrifice,"
"I rehearsed spiels like that when I was Champion, too," Hawke scoffed, pulling out a stool and taking a seat. "But what you forget, Inquisitor, is that I've been you. I've been where you've been, and I've made the sacrifices you've made. I also know that the decision of leaving him behind will hound your steps and consume your sleep. Guilt will do that to a person, even when it's undeserved,"
"This is all a little heavy for first thing in the morning, isn't it?"
Adhlea tried her best to smile and knew that it fell flat. She felt the pull of it on her lips but knew that it must have looked forced. Hawke remained unimpressed.
"Perhaps, but while I'm still in Skyhold I thought it best that you were around someone who at the very least could provide some empathy,"
Prior to the altercation with the Grey Wardens, Cordelia Hawke and Adhlea Lavellan had been on good terms. The two had drank together, spent time together, and felt a kinship. It was the beginning of a friendship borne from two people having the world on their shoulders. Hawke understood. It was unsurprising that she wanted to come to the Inquisitor's aid now. Adhlea took a heavy swig of ale, grimaced at the taste, and sighed.
"Perhaps, yes," she echoed softly. "Hawke, I was never meant for this. I was never meant to lead an army or make these kinds of decisions. I was meant to oversee a single clan, teach new Firsts, lead our caravans. Nothing like this,"
"And I was meant to live out my days in a little farming town in Ferelden," Hawke nodded with a wry smile. "But the Blight had other ideas. After that, I was meant to simply be a Hawke living with the status of an Amell; accrue my wealth, marry someone of good standing, and have a family. All while trying to maintain my freedom as an apostate, of course. Nobody is ever meant for this, Lavellan. You play the role well and that is all that matters to those who watch you. The people who you depend upon, your inner circle, are your saving grace. You must let them shoulder your burdens. It took me a long time to realise that, and by the time I did I'd already lost so much. When I finally fell and the weight of my decisions threatened to crush me, they were there to shift the rubble. Without them, I would have met a much less desirable fate. I don't want to see it happen to you either,"
Hawke's words had Lavellan at a loss. What did she say to this sudden plethora of information? There was a shadow that enveloped Hawke's face that made her heart ache. The woman was haunted, anybody could see it, and seeing someone else endure hardships that she had to endure too was taking a toll on her. Adhlea had heard of Hawke's temperament from Varric; diplomatic, empathetic, patient, and above all else kind. The woman had seen the death of her family and saw Kirkwall fall apart around her. She saw blood magic rip her mother from her and start a war that Adhlea was still seeing the aftershocks of. Through it all, she never stopped wishing for the best outcome. Never stopped trying to find a way that would broker peace. She couldn't let the Inquisitor start a habit that would make her fall here. Too much was at stake. Adhlea took another swig, pushing some flyaway hairs behind her tapered ear.
"I won't let it consume me, Hawke," she finally said with far more confidence than she felt. "It isn't easy to tell people that I feel like I'm drowning, but some know. Dorian knows, Cassandra knows, Cullen knows, and whether I like it or not Cole knows too. The others have an idea, certainly, but those four...They're closer,"
Hawke nodded, smiling politely at the bartender who placed a tankard in front of her too. The two drank quietly for a time and Adhlea could see some of the weight leave Hawke's shoulders. It was a while before either spoke again, the comfortable silence giving way to an entirely new thread of conversation.
"Then if I don't have to worry, humour me," Hawke suddenly piped up, casting a sideways glance at Adhlea. "Because I have some rather burning questions about your companions,"
"Do you now?"
"Indeed. First of all, are Dorian and Iron Bull-"
"Yes,"
"Really? Maker, Dorian's a brave man. Better him than me," Hawke chuckled against her tankard and took an impressive swig. "Alright. Cassandra. Is she really as fearsome and intimidating as Varric tells me?"
"If you don't know her? Yes, absolutely," Adhlea couldn't stop the smile creeping across her lips. Cassandra was going to kill her if this got back to her.
"And if you do?" Hawke leaned in, enthralled.
"She...Is one of the most romantic, sentimental people I know. I admire her and cherish her as my friend, and...Am utterly baffled by the fact that her and Varric haven't either killed each other or jumped into bed together yet,"
Hawke careened back, letting out a string of melodious laughter that had various heads turning towards them. Her eyes crinkled, shoulders quaking, and when she regained her composure her eyes glittered with amusement.
"Well you must tell me if either happens, though I admit I'd be happier if it was the latter,"
"I think they'd be happier too,"
Adhlea let out a low chuckle, suddenly checking over her shoulder to make sure neither were suddenly standing behind her waiting to come down on her like a sack of bricks.
"Alright," Hawke clapped her hands together. "Next question,"
Was this some kind of game? Adhlea was curious.
"Ask away,"
"Speaking of jumping into bed, how are you and the Commander?"
Adhlea had a mouthful of ale when Hawke asked her next question. She choked on said mouthful, spluttered gracelessly, and found herself hating the gleeful expression written all over Hawke's features.
"I...I beg your pardon?" she hissed, throwing her head over her shoulder again. "The Commander and I...Cullen and I haven't...We've not-"
"Shame," Hawke tutted. "Varric told me the two of you were still figuring things out, to be fair,"
"Did he now?"
Hawke could feel the embarrassment in the Inquisitor give way to a flare of irritation and indignation. Adhlea was an expressive woman; passionate and driven. Getting a response out of her was almost too easy but for Varric's safety it was probably best if she quelled the impending storm.
"Easy, easy," Hawke smiled, clapping a hand on the elven woman's shoulder. "I don't mean to prod. I just remember Cullen from my time in Kirkwall and he was a tormented man. Under Meredith's instructions he carried out things that I know he regrets. I worried for him; we were friends at one point, after all. To hear that he had found closeness with someone and had allowed himself that luxury warmed my heart, truly,"
Adhlea paused, gave Hawke a wary look, and jerked her head towards the tavern door.
"You're a convincing diplomat, Hawke. Your reputation precedes you. Walk with me,"
Curious, Hawke abandoned the remnants of her drink and the two mages meandered out into the courtyard. Both were aware of all eyes on them. It was to be expected; the Champion of Kirkwall and the Inquisitor maintained quite a presence within Skyhold. None approached, none dared, even though they would have been met with amicable conversation and friendly smiles. They were mages, powerful mages, and still instilled as much fear as they did inspiration.
"May I be frank with you, Hawke?"
"As much as you like,"
"Even before I left for the Conclave, I never had much interest in relationships. Within our clan, there were people who paired off as was expected but as the clan's First, I was always too preoccupied for it. As the Inquisitor, I thought it would be the same. I would hesitate to even call what we're involved in a relationship as it stands right now,"
Hawke only made a vague noise of understanding as they walked, watching the gears in the Inquisitor's brain turning as she tried to figure out exactly where she wanted this conversation to go.
"We found that our opinions differed from day one. I wanted to work with the mages and have them be our allies. He wanted templars, and if not templars then he wanted the mages under strict conditions. For the first little while, it seemed as though whatever decision I made displeased him but I wanted to be an example; I wanted to be the olive branch between my people and humans. So I took the time to speak with him, get to know him. We reconciled and...Somewhere along the way I found myself gravitating towards him, and him to me. It was frightening. I didn't want it; how could I trust a templar with my affections? Me? An elven mage, or to some an apostate, who worships Creators instead of the Maker could never put her faith in a man like Cullen unless it was in a professional context,"
"And yet you did," Hawke interjected as they climbed the steps towards the main hall. "What caused things to change?"
"A game of chess," Adhlea smiled. "I found out about his siblings and his life in Ferelden before the Blight. He asked about my clan, about my magic, and I asked about his duties as an ex-Templar. There were intricacies that both of us shared that made us depart from a purely professional relationship. I must ask you Hawke; was it daft of me to let something so small affect my feelings so much? Was it nonsensical to allow myself to let me guard down so readily?"
"Not at all. I decided that I wanted to be with Fenris over a bottle of wine in an abandoned mansion. Compared to our beginnings, yours sounds positively textbook,"
Hawke gave Adhlea a playful nudge as they entered the main hall, the two sharing a laugh exclusively made for them.
"If I had any advice to give you, Lavellan, it would be this; take that plunge. Don't hesitate to leap. Falling will not ruin you as Inquisitor. If this turns out to be a mistake, you can wear your decision to at least try with pride and dignity. Besides, if the way he looks at you is any indication, I wouldn't worry about him causing you any pain,"
Hawke raised a hand in greeting and revelled in the fleeting panic in Adhlea's face as it whirled around to see what Cordelia was waving at. Lo and behind, emerging from the chamber leading to Josephine's office and the war table were two of her three advisors. Lelianna cast a sideways glance at the two of them, dipped her head in greeting, and slipped past with a fistful of parchment. Cullen made a slower departure, his eyes lingering on the Inquisitor for just a moment too long. His gaze was soft and filled with a longing that nearly made Adhlea go to him then and there. His throat bobbed as he swallowed and approached the two mages, bowing his head to Hawke in particular.
"Inquisitor, Champion," he greeted them, hand coming to rest on the pommel of his blade. "I...We were wondering where the two of you had got to. There was a short meeting detailing reports from both my soldiers and Lelianna's spies that I feel should be shared with you, Inquisitor. Would you like me to have someone run the missives up to your quarters?"
Hawke found herself biting back laughter at the look on the Commander's usually stoic face. His words seemed professional and cordial with only the best of intentions. His expression, however, was that of a kicked puppy. She had no doubt that if Inquisitor Lavellan took him up on that offer he would be visibly disappointed but keeping up appearances was a necessity.
"That won't be necessary, Commander," Adhlea shook her head. "You're welcome to take them to your office. Once the Champion and I have concluded our business, I'll drop by,"
There was no denying the twitch that lifted the side of Cullen's lip, a ghost of a smile complimenting the relief that shone in his copper eyes.
"Yes, Inquisitor, of course. I look forward to your visit,"
Upon realising the implication of his words, the Commander babbled something incoherently, excused himself, and hurriedly left. The two women stood in his wake, one amused beyond belief, the other confused as to why that exchange left her heart racing. Adhlea heard Hawke laughing under her breath, her voice playfully mocking.
"I would hesitate to even call what we're involved in a relationship as it stands right now," she teased. "Yes, because that felt purely platonic to me,"
"Shut up, Hawke,"
"I bet he's looking forward to your visit,"
"Don't be disgusting!"
"So you're telling me that if you turn up later and he says 'Adhlea, I must have you right now' and sweeps his desk clear, you're not going to let him do exactly that?"
Another pause. Adhlea's cheeks are decidedly more rosy under the autumnal colour of her vallaslin.
"Not on the desk," she finally mumbled, averting her gaze to stare at the tapestries hanging overhead.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry. Varric reckons it's pretty sturdy,"
"The two of you best bet that your bones are pretty sturdy,"
"Don't worry about us. You only need to worry about one bone, after all,"
"Creators, would you stop?!"