Thank you for reading! No update next week, but I hope to be back on schedule by the following week.
Leliana folded the note on the heavy, expensive paper with a sigh. The last thing she wanted was this meeting Vivienne seemed so intent on, but the mage's tone, and her barrage of notes, were insistent … and Leliana had to admit to a certain amount of curiosity. At Vivienne's request, she had had Charter procure the heart of a snowy wyvern, by Charter's account not an easy task, and messy to boot, and once it had been delivered, Vivienne had left for Orlais.
She had returned surprisingly quickly, and had isolated herself even more than she usually did. None of Leliana's attempts had managed to find out what Vivienne had done with the heart or where she had gone. Unusual behavior for the mage, to be sure.
Allowing her curiosity to drag her out of the Rookery, Leliana presented herself at Vivienne's door.
When the mage answered, she seemed to have been … crying, Leliana realized with some surprise.
"Thank you for coming."
"Thank you for asking me. Is there—is there anything you need?" Leliana asked hesitantly.
Vivienne shook her head. "No. Not now. Not … not anymore." She led Leliana into her sitting room, which was in remarkable disarray. The mage sank onto her sofa, picked up a glass of sherry, and tossed it off like it was water.
"Vivienne, is there something wrong?"
After a moment, the mage nodded. "You were curious about the wyvern's heart."
"I was." She had been suspicious, too, Leliana had to admit. She had briefly considered substituting the heart of an ordinary wyvern, not sure if she trusted Vivienne's intentions, but in the end had played it straight, sure that the mage would have known the difference.
"It was a … potion."
Ah. The alchemical notes she had found when she went through Vivienne's papers, Leliana recognized. She felt a flash of satisfaction at having that particular mystery explained to her.
"For restoring to my Bastien some of his vigor." The mage held up a scroll that had evidently come from a raven. Leliana remembered having the note delivered to her earlier in the day. "It failed, and the news has just come …" She pressed her lips together as a spasm of pain crossed her face, working to keep her emotions under control. "He died early this morning."
"Oh. Oh, Vivienne, I am so very sorry."
The mage nodded heavily. "Thank you."
This was unexpected. Everyone know about Bastien and Vivienne, of course, but it had never occurred to Leliana to consider it a love match of the depth that Vivienne appeared to feel. Bastien had had a certain charm, she remembered, but overall had been a rather forgettable type, certainly not someone Leliana would have imagined creating such devotion in the heart of such a charismatic and beautiful woman as Vivienne.
"He … told me it would be all right. But—how can it be? He was … It was all for him. The power, the Game, everything. He taught me everything, made me who I am. Without him …"
Leliana listened in silence, knowing that the mage would regret having been so open when she came back to herself.
"I have nothing now," Vivienne whispered to herself.
She didn't even notice when Leliana slipped out of the room, closing the door carefully behind her.
Leliana found the Inquisitor in the tavern and let him know that Vivienne might need a dose of his charm and good cheer, and then she betook herself to the Rookery, writing a note and sending off a raven in the direction of Orlais. Perhaps Vivienne would not thank her for interfering, but the part of her that had been Sister Leliana, one of the Maker's servants, could not see a soul in pain without wanting to do what she could to help.
Later, she found a small room off a little-used corridor and slipped inside, finding Nathaniel awake and waiting for her.
"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked between frantic kisses.
But Leliana couldn't—wouldn't—articulate to him, or to herself, the need that had brought her here.
Thule gave Vivienne a day to collect herself, then sent a note up to her rooms asking for an appointment. He didn't want to just descend on her without some forewarning.
The note was returned unopened by the young page who had taken it up, and Thule decided he was just going to take the bull by the horns and go up there himself. While he wasn't overwhelmingly fond of Vivienne, there was no question she had been an asset to the Inquisition, and he didn't like knowing that one of his people was sinking into despair under his very nose.
She didn't respond to his knock, either, so he went right in, finding her sitting huddled on the end of her sofa, a nearly empty bottle of sherry on the table.
Looking up at him, she met his eyes, and he was shocked at the mute misery he saw there. Of course, if Cassandra … died, would he respond any better? He didn't even want to think about it. Life without Cassandra would be unsupportable. It hadn't occurred to him to imagine Vivienne as having been so much in love, but most evidently she had been, and his heart went out to her.
"Bastien is dead," she said to him.
"I know. I'm sorry."
"I can hardly believe …"
"I know," he said again, sinking down on the settee next to her. "Can you tell me about him?"
"Can I—?" She blinked, trying to pull herself together. "He was …" She searched for words and couldn't find them, shaking her head.
"Tell me how you met," Thule said gently.
"Ah." It was little more than a breath as she looked up and out the window, her mind far away and long ago. "The Wintersend ball. My first visit to the Imperial Palace." A nostalgic smile touched her face, some of the dullness clearing from her eyes at the memory.
"How did a mage of the Circle end up at a ball in the palace?"
"A dozen of us had been sent there—entertainment for the nobility. Elegant pets, my dear," she said, sounding more like herself.
"How old were you?"
"In body? Old enough. In experience? A newborn babe. I was in awe of everyone and everything. And then, across the room … our eyes met. Yes. Bastien, my love." Vivienne's eyes filled with tears.
"Love at first sight?" It was hard to believe of the cool, self-possessed woman Thule had thought he knew, but certainly she gave every evidence that it was true.
She nodded. "He spent the entire ball at my side, telling me about the Game and the nobility and … everything I needed to know." A broader smile lit her face now, and she even gave a little chuckle. "The Dowager tried to have him killed for slighting her, but he didn't care."
"A mage and a noble? And the Templars didn't put a stop to it?"
"Oh, no, my dear, you misunderstand. In the days before Kirkwall, it was expected. The nobility didn't fear magic. Instead we were a fashion accessory, a feather in the cap. Everyone had one. That was why we had been brought to the ball in the first place. It was … a more innocent time, I suppose." She shook her head, her face crumpling. "And now he's gone, and I …"
"What of his family? Were you close with them?" Thule asked, glad that he had come armed with a piece of information from Leliana.
Vivienne nodded, pulling herself together as she thought about the question. "His son Laurent and I would conspire together to procure Bastien exotic treats, delicacies to tempt his appetite as his health failed. His sister … she didn't like that I left, but she understood that my position here reflected well on the whole family."
"Do you need to leave for services? You're free to take as much time as you need."
"No. The services will take some time to arrange. In Orlais, these things are done elaborately, and cannot be rushed."
"Perhaps you can discuss it with Bastien's sister and his son. I'm told they have asked to come and visit." He waited for her response, and was pleased when she brightened somewhat.
"Have they? How kind. I will look forward to showing them the Inquisition."
"And we will look forward to meeting them," Thule assured her. He got to his feet, feeling that he had done as much as he could for the moment, glad to see her face so much more animated than it had been when he came in.
"Inquisitor?"
"Yes?"
"About Cassandra. I … I can see how you dote upon her."
He nodded. He did dote on her, and wasn't surprised it was obvious.
"You make a fetching couple." Her eyes twinkled briefly. "Or you would, if Cassandra ever smiled."
"I'll work on it."
"You should. You never know when …" She shook herself, getting to her feet and clearing her throat. "Life takes unexpected turns, Inquisitor. Be prepared."
He thanked her for the thought and left the room, feeling the heavy foreboding weight of her words on his shoulders the rest of the day.
Alistair was sitting at a table in the main keep, hoping that Lilias would come by so he had an excuse to jump up and say "Fancy meeting you here" and then hope to stammer through some of the words he kept practicing in his mirror every night, and cursing his own damnable inability to act. When would he be through being so wishy-washy, anyway?
The mage Vivienne stopped before his table with two very well-dressed people—clearly Orlesians. No one else dressed quite like an Orlesian noble.
"I expected ruins," the woman said in a heavy, almost affected-sounding, accent.
"Oh, they were," Vivienne assured her. "As you can see, the Inquisition has been busy. Lady Montilyet has done wonders. She's an Antivan, of course, but very skilled."
The man was looking around him with eager, almost jerky movements. He turned to Vivienne. "Would it be possible to see the Herald before we have to return to Ghislain?"
Vivienne frowned faintly. "He should be present—if not now, then shortly." Her eyes lit on Alistair, and despite his best attempt to shrink into his seat and become too small to see, she said, "But you may meet His Majesty, King Alistair of Ferelden."
Even as Alistair stood, he could see in the bored eyes behind the Orlesian man's mask that he seemed a poor substitute for the Inquisitor. He didn't blame the man; he was a poor substitute. "A pleasure," he said.
"Indeed."
While the man kept looking for the Inquisitor, the woman fastened her eyes on Alistair's broad chest with a look he was entirely too familiar with from aging noblewomen, and cooed, "What brings you here, Your Majesty?"
"I've been assisting the Inquisitor. Corypheus is a threat that faces all of us, and ..."
He trailed off as Vivienne trilled, "Inquisitor!" No one had been paying attention to what he was saying anyway.
Thule approached, that open, cheerful, easy smile on his face. Alistair bitterly envied the dwarf his comfortableness. Maybe he gave lessons.
"Allow me to present Inquisitor Cadash," Vivienne said. "This is Bastien's sister, the Grand Cleric Marcelline, and his son, Duke Laurent of the Council of Heralds."
The Orlesian man bent in a sweeping bow, which Alistair noticed without bitterness. After all, no one had ever accused him of being marked by Andraste. And, after all, perhaps he ought to have known he was being introduced to a member of the Council of Heralds. "Your Worship, you do us great honor," Duke Laurent said, with every impression of sincerity.
"Madame de Fer has told us of the many great trials you have faced together," Grand Cleric Marcelline said. "It all sounds most thrilling."
"Oh, very much so," Thule assured her. He glanced at Alistair, his blue eyes twinkling, and Alistair couldn't help but imagine the Grand Cleric in the Western Approach, camping amidst the sand and heat. He had to stifle a laughing fit and pretend to be coughing. Meanwhile, Thule was grinning like the cat that caught the canary, the imp.
"My dears, perhaps we could adjourn to the chapel in a few moments' time? I would like to speak with the Inquisitor briefly," Vivienne said.
Both the Orlesians made exaggerated bows to the Inquisitor and nods to Alistair and withdrew. Alistair thought he should go, perhaps, as well, but Thule stepped a little closer to him in a subtle suggestion to stay.
"This has been quite the triumph, my dear," Vivienne said when they were out of earshot. "They just adore you."
"They seem very … friendly," Thule said.
"Do thank Leliana for me. She wouldn't say as much, but I know she set this in motion."
"Of course."
"Laurent is a dear. He is also new to a seat of great power in the Empire. It is to our benefit to keep him on our side. And Marcelline is one of the strongest voices among the Grand Clerics."
Alistair wondered if that voice would be raised on Vivienne's behalf in the mage's rumored bid to become the Divine. He doubted that would succeed—Thedas simply wasn't ready for a mage in that position—but it would be interesting to see how far it got.
"I … owe you," Vivienne said, more awkwardly than was her wont. "I won't forget it."
Thule nodded as she excused herself to return to her guests.
"What was all that about?" Alistair asked.
"A personal matter, but I wonder if it won't have far-reaching consequences," the Inquisitor said thoughtfully. "We may have just done a very good turn for Thedas, my friend. What do you say to an ale to celebrate?"
Perhaps Lilias would be in the tavern and he could pretend to run into her accidentally there, Alistair thought optimistically. "Lead on."