It had snowed in the night.
The bed beside Cordelia's within one of the old sisters' quarters in the chantry was already empty and neatly made, with blankets tucked so tightly that you could bounce a silver off them. At least they were until she climbed atop in stockinged feet, mussing them as she went in order to excitedly peer at the piles of white fluff. It rarely snowed in Ostwick and when it did it was never in such generous amounts. Up to her knee at least she'd wager. Or maybe mid-thigh? She pushed up onto tiptoe to achieve a better angle for snowbank height estimation when a soft knock sounded at the door.
"Yes?" she called, freezing guiltily.
"Are you decent?" asked Cassandra, calling through the door.
Cordelia jumped off the seeker's bed, hastily smoothing out the telltale wrinkles, and looked down at herself. Her clothing was rumpled from having been slept in, a consequence of the freezing temperatures and the fact that she had no nightclothes. But besides that and her likely tangled hair, she supposed she was presentable enough. "Yes, come in."
The door opened tentatively, and then wider when Cassandra saw that she was fully awake. A bundle was tucked beneath each of her arms and she was followed closely by Lady Montilyet, who carried another.
"What's this?" Cordelia asked, eyeing the packages curiously as they set them down on Cassandra's bed.
"Clothes." Josephine clasped her hands in excitement. "Although they are rather drab, I'm afraid. Cassandra wouldn't let me get you anything too colorful."
Cassandra rolled her eyes at this, reaching to untie the nearest bundle. "The Herald will be fighting, Josephine, not trying to catch a husband."
"Who's to say she can't do both?" the ambassador winked. Cordelia bit back a grin.
"Here we are. The essentials. Breeches, an extra pair of boots, another leather jacket – you preferred the hunter armor, yes?" Cassandra continued without waiting for a response. "A harness for your daggers, two tunics, a pair of gloves…"
"And underclothes of course," Josephine added. "Plus two reinforced brassieres. I hope you don't mind, I guessed your measurements."
Cordelia raised a brow as she inspected the last items, surprised to find that the ambassador had guessed right. "Not at all. Thank you both." She stood and began to pack her new wardrobe into the nearest trunk."Lady Montilyet, might I use some paper and ink? I'd like to write to my father. When I replenish my funds, I can pay you back for these supplies as well."
"Of course, Herald," the ambassador replied, opening the door to leave. "Though, repayment is not necessary and I hope you do not mind that I already took the liberty of writing Bann Trevelyan while you were recovering. I did not want to delay informing them of your safety, or of your uncle's passing."
"Oh," Cordelia said, surprised at her thoughtfulness. "Thank you."
The Antivan bowed her head gracefully. "It was no trouble. Come to my office when you are ready and you can compose your letter. I'm sure your family will be grateful to hear from you directly."
Cordelia sighed as the door shut, unbuttoning her tunic while she searched for the washbasin. "Well then, between getting myself dressed, writing that letter, and finding breakfast, looks like I've got a busy, oh, say twelve hours before my training with the commander starts." She broke the ice that had formed over the bowl, plunging her hands in with a grimace.
"Go easy on him," Cassandra said as she stomped on a fresh pair of boots. "Cullen is a good man."
Cordelia raised a brow but said nothing, watching as the Seeker inventoried the contents of her potions belt before rising to buckle it into place. "You're leaving now then?"
Cassandra nodded. "We shall return soon."
"And you're sure I can't be of use to you on this… where did you say you were going again?"
"Kirkwall."
Cordelia pulled a face, reaching for a fresh cloth. "Well I don't envy you there. I've always thought that city smelled a bit like piss."
Cassandra gave a laugh that was really more akin to a snort. "I cannot say I disagree. Do you recall that strange lyrium we found around the last rift you sealed?"
"Yes. Red! I've never seen anything like it."
"Because it is trouble," Cassandra said darkly. "And as is usually the case with such things, Varric was present at the start of it. We go to Kirkwall to investigate." She sheathed her sword, abruptly turning to face Cordelia. "But first, I have a favor to ask."
"Of course."
"I need you to have dinner with the commander while I am gone."
Cordelia froze, dripping washcloth in hand, more shocked at the request than she was by the icy rivulet of water she was now carelessly allowing to stream down her neck. "What? Why?" She eyed Cassandra suspiciously as she moved about the room, picking up various items and stuffing them into her pack.
"I do not have time to discuss the details." Cassandra gave an old spyglass a threatening shake and held it out for inspection. "Any idea what is the matter with it?"
Cordelia ignored the broken item. "But we don't even know each other."
"I'm asking you to eat with the man, not marry him. And you have been introduced. What more is required?"
"Mutual respect?" Cordelia said sarcastically.
Cassandra sighed. "Will you do it or not? I can ask Leliana or Josephine if you refuse. But you are the one who was complaining of having nothing to do only moments ago."
The Seeker had her there. Cordelia wrung her cloth, guilt winning out over better judgement. "I'm sorry. I will try. If it is that important to you."
"Good." Cassandra abandoned the broken scope to their rickety bookshelf and strode from the room with no further explanation.
Cordelia looked down at herself in exasperation, the front of her tunic now soaked clear through. Training, nightly dinners… She yanked the wet shirt off over her head, balling it up before sending it pelting into the wall. Joining the Inquisition was rapidly becoming an exercise in spending time with the only man in Haven who actually made her wish for some demons to take her ire out on.
By the time she emerged from her quarters, it was nearly midday. She'd spent some quality time back in bed, flat on her back after Cassandra's departure, morosely staring at the curious mark now adorning her hand. There was little to report from her investigation other than the discovery that she could control the intensity at which the mark glowed. Not much use outside of a party trick, she'd decided, before finally succumbing to the aroma of frying sausages which led her by the nose to the small kitchen at the back of the chantry. Here, she was alternately stammered over and bowed at by the entire staff until she grew so uncomfortable that she fled as soon as the cook was distracted. It was of little consequence that the biscuit she'd managed to pilfer was stale, and the tea, cold. At least lines from the Chant were not being recited with her every bite.
"Lady Trevelyan?"
Cordelia looked up from the last dregs of her teacup. "Oh hello."
Josephine clucked disapprovingly, eyes roving the empty table before her. "Why are you eating here all alone? And in the coldest corner of the hall too?"
Cordelia shrugged, pointing to a chubby, bluebird hopping from branch to frost-covered branch outside the window. "Just watching. It really is beautiful here."
"You cannot be serious. Surely you are not used to such weather."
Laughing at the Antivan's expression of utter horror, Cordelia shook her head. "What can I say? I find the snow rather novel." She pushed away from the table and a young servant girl appeared at her side to take her plate. "Thank you." She smiled at the girl without thinking, eliciting one nervous squeak from the servant before she ran from her, dishes rattling as she went.
"I see your reputation precedes you," said Josephine dryly, looking after the young girl's rapidly retreating back. "But let us talk of more pleasant things. You wished to write to your family?"
"Best not to delay, I suspect." She fell into step with the ambassador, who looked at her quizzically as they headed toward her office.
"Is something amiss?"
"Let's just say, I'm not sure how news of my joining Inquisition will be received."
"Ah," said Josephine knowingly. "Your parents will disapprove."
"My mother, more specifically. Cordelia stepped through the door as Josephine gestured her through. "I suppose as our ambassador, you should know the details?"
"It would be helpful, yes," Josephine said, settling herself at her chair and rummaging through her desk. "But only if you are comfortable, Your Worship."
"I don't mind." Cordelia hauled a seat up to a corner of the large desk, selecting one of the ambassador's proffered quills. "I was nearly engaged. My mother likes to imagine that the deal was as good as struck. But in truth, it was never something that I wanted."
"Is this why you attended the Conclave?" Josephine asked. "You mentioned personal reasons."
"Yes. It was a very good match, you see. To the Heir-Viceroy of Tantervale. Maman was quite proud at the thought of seeing her only daughter so well married."
"Heir-Viceroy Maximilian?" Josephine blushed. "He is very handsome."
Cordelia looked up from sharpening her quill, surprised.
"I— I mean. If you like that well-groomed, lean sort of look, of course." The ambassador abruptly began patting the already neatly arrayed piles of paper arranged along her desk with vigor as she spoke, as if to straighten wayward sheafs.
An uneasy smile flitted across Cordelia's mouth. "I suppose I can't say he is a terrible sight to behold." She played with the feathers of her quill. "But we wouldn't have suited."
"Why not?" said Josephine, distracted from her tidying.
"His expectations of a future wife were different than mine. He would have forbidden me from training, from seeking any sort of employ. And while I cannot deny that he would have provided for me…" Cordelia pulled a blank piece of parchment from the towering stack Josephine offered, not quite sure how to explain the rest.
"It is alright," said Josephine kindly. "You do not need to explain."
"I'm just not sure how— I mean, I know this sounds daft, given the heir-viceroy's reputation, but as dashing as he is, he always made me feel… uncomfortable?" She shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "I suppose that's the best word for it."
She looked down awkwardly and quickly scribbled out her short message. A bar of wax was laid out beside the paper and she thrust the end into the nearest lit candle. It was a paltry attempt to keep her mind from wandering the past.
"Did you wear that dress for me, my lady?"
"Excuse me?"
"Your assets are set off to… quite the advantage."
She pulled away. "I think Gabriel is looking for—"
"Your brother can wait."
He gripped her waist tightly, bending her back over the rail of the balcony ever so slightly as she struggled to keep some distance between them. "What I would not give to see you out of this Delia." He ran a thumb across the lace of her low neckline, nearly brushing the bared skin of her breasts.
She resisted the urge to snap her head forward into his nose to be rid of him. There would be blood everywhere. "My lord, you know my Aunt Lucille would have both our heads if she saw us like this. And it isn't proper to speak to me so familiarly."
"I rather like the idea of people catching us. Haven't you ever found it thrilling?"
Cordelia turned her head away, unable to keep from blushing.
"My sweet." He caught her chin in his cold fingers, eyes darkening hungrily. "I forget, you are so innocent of these things."
He crushed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. "I cannot wait to teach you."
"Ouch." The memories scattered as hot golden wax dripped carelessly over Cordelia's fingers from the now melting bar. She pulled it back from the flame hastily, allowing it to pool on the parchment before her instead.
"That's really all there is to tell you I'm afraid," she said with a little shrug. "We were never engaged though. When Maximilian began hinting of his intentions, I went to my father and asked him for some time away from the city."
"And he chose to send you to the Conclave with your uncle," said Josephine. "The High Chancellor?"
"It was a logical decision. It had always been intended that I would join the Templars, like my older brothers. But there were… events which dissuaded my mother of the notion. I had dreamed of it for years though. Leaving to take my vows, wondering what the vigil beforehand would be like." She smiled at the recollection. "My brothers were dramatically secretive about the Order. It was our inside joke. They would refuse to tell me anything on their visits home and I would chase them about the grounds until I managed to best one of them and beat some tidbit from him."
Josephine looked confused. "And that was enjoyable?"
"Maker yes!" Cordelia laughed. "And since we knew I would be joining their barracks soon enough, it was really just all in jest. None of us expected that I'd be forbidden from it in the end." She removed her necklace, gazing at it for a moment before pressing the charm face down into the cooling wax to set her mark. "But instead of taking my vows at eighteen, I found myself suddenly aimless. My uncle took pity and offered me an apprenticeship as a Chantry scholar and I spent the next five years training under him, with a focus on Templar-mage relations."
"Ah. And thus, you were a perfect choice for the Conclave."
Cordelia nodded. "And there you have it. The whole tale. Though I should warn you, you'll be embroiled in it yourself soon enough. There's sure to be a flood of enraged correspondence from my mother as soon as this letter reaches home."
"Please," the ambassador said, clearly unruffled. "There was an entire course on dealing with parents when negotiating diplomatic agreements at the University."
Cordelia laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "Truly?" She dipped her quill, addressing her letter in calmer, more even strokes.
Josephine grinned. "Oh yes. And I was top of the class."
