Though the War Council had been chastised by her response to their invasion of her privacy, it wasn't even a full day before they were assaulting her in force, throwing evil eyes when she came around corners, and ambushing her with paperwork and duties at every chance. It quickly became clear in their pleas that one duty in particular could not be put off after the whole of Skyhold had watched her race with Dorian.
She had to sit in the damned chair, and pretend she had the moral authority to judge all of Thedas, and declare fitting penance for their sins. Most of the cases were straightforward, but inevitably she received anger and praise in equal measure no matter what decision she came to. To make it worse, the size of the crowd today was like nails on a chalkboard inside her mind. Fishes eager to be fed leaping over each other, pushing and squirming to gulp at bits of her attention.
As the Mayor of Crestwood was lead to the center of the room, the majority of the room's emotions were deep red and brown. Echoes of disbelief, distain, anger, revulsion. The man was pitiful against the drawings in their minds of a demonic child-eating villain. A month in the Skyhold dungeon had left his face sunken, and all of him covered in a thin grime, while a long scraggly beard obscured his ropey malnourished neck. He had been hesitant to speak when they sought aid to enter the rift cavern, but now he was mute with shame.
Josephine explained his crimes, and with a wince, decried the way he had sacrifice human beings; his own neighbors. Habrynn stared at his bowed head for a moment, collecting her thoughts before she announced, "I want to state that I agree with what you did."
He shot to attention with a scowl towards her that she didn't expect. She continued, "But it doesn't make it right, nor legal. You were not a King, nor a Duke or Teyrn. You were not the sole divine authority for those people. You were their Mayor- given authority to govern. Not to decide their fates."
He scowled to the side, looking chastised against his earlier anger as she continued, "But I understand what you did. It was was logical. You saved the sick from a slower death, and saved the living from the darkspawn that may have spawned from their own kin. You acted as a Grey Warden might."
That earned her a sharp look from Blackwall, who she could see watching the events from the outskirts of the room. Finally, after the outcry within the crowd quieted, she concluded, "But you did not have that authority. Now I give it to you. I sentence you to join the Wardens. To die now from the joining, or in continued service to all of Thedas."
She could feel and hear the room puzzling over her sentence. The wave around her was tinted with bitterness. No one really liked to hear the clear unbiased truth. She found that out every time she sat here. It was part of why she hated it. People loved to look into someone's eyes and yell murderer with the same breath that they praised her 'Herald'. But in the end, it was just a matter of who caught you, and who you happened to kill. The Mayor's expression softened, surprising everyone as he bowed, "It is more than I deserve. I thank you."
She held onto the gratitude she felt radiating from him as they lead him away, carrying it in her soul as a balm against the rest of the crowd. One person at least, was happy with her decision. There was hardly time to prepare herself before they brought Lord Rosmont Évreaux before her. The moment their eyes met, the Noble began to spit curses at her in Orlesian, straining against his bonds as if he might rush up to attack her given the chance.
"You maimed my child! My SON!" Lord Rosmont spat in Orlesian, "Blighted daughter of a nug! Cow Whore!"
It took a huge force of will to separate the tangle of his own hatred from hers. Josephine tried to read off the man's crimes, but was having trouble being heard over his ravings. He continued in colorfully crude descriptions of how she was bred and how she ought to die, until Habrynn pulled herself together to order, "Someone restrain him! We cannot hold court if we cannot read the charges!"
The Lord was lead forward again in chains and a muzzle. It had taken a surprisingly amount of bondage to subdue the grey-haired old man. Josephine cleared her throat and began, "The Lord Rosmont Évreaux is accused of a plot to kill seven Qunari mercenaries, of plotting to injure further Inquisition troops, and a plot upon the Inquisitor's life itself." Josephine blinked and glanced to Habrynn with an uncertain blink. "Perhaps the Inquisitor is a little too close to this to judgement-"
Habrynn stood up, "No. The crime is simple. He conspired and killed seven of my friends in cold blood. It does not matter if they were my kin, elven or Dwarven. Were they humans that were hunted down, bound, tortured and murdered, no one in this room would argue the sentence! These murders are worse even than the mayor of Crestwood. They were premeditated, they were heartless," she growled.
She had stepped towards him before she had realized what she was doing. "And they were unjustified. The sentence is-"
"Wait!" A younger Noble called out from the crowd, pushing through the throng with a sealed document roll in hand. He breathed heavily behind his mask as he scuffled with the guards that held him back, snarling, "I have official documentation that I am my father's legal council!"
"Julian?" Habrynn asked, stopped in her tracks by the voice from her past.
The guards paused, gripping his arms tightly. With a yank he freed himself, and tugged his doublet back into place with a practiced elegance of movement. "Yes, I am Julian Seggart Évreaux, and I demand a chance to petition the Inquisitor."
She balked at his formal tone, sputtering inelegantly for lack of a proper response.
Rosmont growled at the scene, "She does not deserve to live after what she did to you! My little boy!"
Julian stepped forward, and the guards stepped in, but all he did was touch her arm, light as a feather. "Perhaps we could speak privately?" He hissed under his breath.
Cullen finally snapped from his position on the Dias, "Really, Inquisitor, this is highly unorthodox-!"
Julian dropped to one knee, brushing his hands down to clasp hers. "I beseech you, Inquisitor,"
Habrynn frowned at his formality, but motioned for him to follow her. "Come, we can speak on the inner balcony."
The doorway that was usually reserved for herself and a small number of servants was now the gateway to an unexpectedly formal reunion. As soon as the door shut behind them, she saw his entire posture soften. His shoulders slumped, and his face bent down to his hand, where he held his head for a long time before finally speaking. He gripped the mask by the edges, and slid it up through his long golden hair to finally reveal his face as he implored Habrynn.
"Please release my father into my care," He whispered. When she finally saw his face, she was amazed at how his features had changed, yet retained the same compassion she remembered from him. His eyes were still deep blue and full of concern, though they seemed heavy with responsibility now. The fires she had seen envelop him had done their work, marring his hairline into a ragged shape around his face, and leaving uneven pink lines in his skin that had still not fully recovered a decade later.
But the eyes remained, and they held her silently in a gaze that spoke of idle summers with their toes in a stream, and afternoons arguing over math problems and chasing each other with caterpillars on sticks. There were many layers of pain between them, but she was amazed that she did not feel anger there, only a long festering regret.
"Julian," Habrynn finally sighed, "I'm sorry… but he's a murderer."
"You don't understand. This is very recent. My father was angry about what you did, you can believe that, but really? He was a fool to drive your father off instead of seeking you out. And what does a Noble need a pretty face for in Orlais?" He snorted, scratching an uneven patch of stubble at his chin, where the hair grew in patches now.
"No," He continued. "No, this madness began just a year ago. He calls me child, forgets my brothers' names, calls for servants long dead. He is out of his mind."
"He arranged for the death of seven of my comrades, Julian!" Habrynn snarled back. "I don't care if he's lyrium addled, blighted, or completely drunk! How can you ask me to forgive that? Even if I sent him to the Wardens, he's.. what… sixty, now? It's worse than a death sentence!"
"Then release him to my custody!" He pleaded, grasping her hand in his, and bringing it up to his lips. "I am not asking for special treatment, not really. I can pledge my house's support to the Inquisition!"
She couldn't argue with that. She had given other Nobles a blank slate for turning over their households and resources to the Inquisition's cause. But the idea left a bitter taste in her mouth. If Shokrakar was here, he might have already gutted both Évreauxs, father and son, and flung their bodies from the cliffs for even thinking they could buy off the deaths of his men.
But the way Rosmont had cursed her publicly was strange. She had judged the nobility countless times. Maker knows there was no shortage of privileged fools willing to sell their servants souls for a little more power, Breach be damned. But when faced with the hangman's noose, none had been so belligerent, so blind to her position. Even Erimond was not so bold, despite flagrantly denying her authority.
He kissed her hand gently, and placed it to his cheek as he ground his teeth. "If you ever loved me, Haba … please… let my father live."
She watched him silently, indulging in what small connection she could garner from that touch, but it was slipping with each passing moment. Whatever they had had was a lifetime ago, and she would never again be the little Vertrande.
She removed her hand and stepped back towards the Main hall, "I cannot pardon his crimes completely, but, If your house were to pledge fealty to the inquisition-"
"Done," Julian replied before she could finish.
She continued, "And I will need proof."
"Proof?"
"Of his insanity," She finished curtly. "I can already think of a way to show the court-"
"No! Please!" he begged, "If his sanity is questioned publicly-"
She crossed her arms tight, crushing her sleeves in tense hands as she stubbornly stared into the door. "The public must see why I chose this verdict, or I will look compromised, and others will act against my decision. Your father is not getting younger… this was bound to happen eventually. This trial is far from the Orelesian courts, at least..."
Julian finally chuckled, sad and broken, "I knew you were wise… all those years ago. You ran circles around me, you know… but now…"
He strode forward, turned her by the shoulder and leaned up on tip-toes to plant a kiss at either side of her lips, leaving her stone-stiff and blushing red as he backed away to replace his mask.
"And still lovely," He nodded behind the repaired visage. "I still hope to find a woman of good breeding with a heart like yours."
Habrynn just stared at him, willing her blood to stop filling her face so awkwardly. "Go, Julian. I have to call my advisors."
He walked back into the Main hall, and stepped out of her life again.
The rest of the trial was a blur. It did not take more than a few leading comments to show everyone that the old Lord Évreaux was not in his right mind, or even in the right year within his mind. Though many of the inner circle cast doubtful glances between them, she sentenced the Lord to jailed confinement within his estate, under the agreement that the estate would house a permanent barracks for Inquisition soldiers in Orlais, allowing them to make sure the sentence was carried out, and repay the damage caused by his insanity.
There were no more trials that day. Others were scheduled, but she ordered all unnecessary personnel from the hall, languishing in the silence of that giant space until she felt ready to explain the full truth of her departure from Évreaux's estate to the War Council. When she finally called them to the War Room, she sent for The Iron Bull as well.
She told them the details as directly as she could. She thought after the fade had dredged them up not once but twice, and she had dealt with the fallout amongst the Valo-Kas and the Tear, that she could be more impartial about a long-lost childhood and events that took place twelve years before.
But she found herself choked, again and again brushing hot tears from her eyes, giving more of a confession than an account of pertinent events. It took hours, and the few questions they had for her dragged the testimony out until the room was nearly dark, lit just by the last trickle of gold from a dead sunset.
She was surprised, as Empathy had swam around her with a kaleidoscope of emotions during the entire retelling, that she did not feel disdain from them. Nor anger or rejection or even shock. What she felt, overwhelmingly, was regret. She could feel a mirrored flow of emotion from them, echoes of similar and even darker skeletons in their closets.
They each eventually adjourned. Morrigan had been the most quiet. Save for a soft snort of, "Mothers do that to us, yes?" She had nothing to add. Cullen seemed flustered through most of the tale, at first giving a few cursory consolations, but eventually listening in silence. As he left, he set a hand to her shoulder, and a fixed her with a long gaze that said, "I know this pain. It will ease." Josephine had rubbed her fingers across her forearm, and chuckled awkwardly. She seemed about the say something else, but simply smiled, and said, "Take care," before she left for her own quarters.
Lellianna was the last to go, save for Bull. She did not offer Habrynn a hug or reassuring touch, just a small nod, and a caution, "Love can get us into the worst trouble, cause us the worst pain." She nodded to Bull before she began to march out of the room. As she was about to close the door behind her, she turned back, "But, I must confess… I still hope one day to find such a love for myself, despite the cost." With that, she exited, shutting them in.
Bull and Habrynn were left to themselves in the War Room. He silently pulled her back to him, wrapping a strong arm around her waist, and the other around her shoulder, tipping her head against his chest to squeeze her more and more tightly.
"Kadan," He whispered into her ear. My Heart.
"e Amon," She replied back, exhausted. My Love.