A/N: I'm sorry this is taking me so long to update. I'm working on book II of my original book series at the moment, and all the planning and drafting is stealing away a lot of my time. Thank you for sticking around and reading!
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Vivienne's day started with a note slipped under her door as she applied her eyeshadow in the mirror she'd managed to procure. It was smaller than she would have liked, but it was just about the only piece of glass in Skyhold that hadn't been cracked, and so she'd accepted it, most graciously.
Already, she'd sent for better furniture, for the main hall, the inquisitor's chambers, and her own, of course. After all, it was hardly selfish to take care of herself while she handled other matters around the castle.
A few of her seamstresses had already made the trip out, though none of them seemed to enjoy working with Herald Finley. It was a problem that would need to be dealt with, though now was hardly the time, seeing as Finley was off trying to form an allegiance with the least influential country in Thedas.
It would be an important stepping stone, but Vivienne still wished they could have found a way to start with Orlais or even a few cities in the Free Marches.
While Ferelden itself wasn't so terrible a country to ally with, the fact that their king was rumored to be so against magic was…tricky.
Vivienne would have liked to go with Finley, but seeing as she was the Orlesian Court's enchantress, she was two things that King Cousland couldn't stand, and Josephine had been such a dear in navigating how to tell that without using any of the king's words for her.
In truth, she'd already known she wouldn't be going.
Solas, Dorian, Grand Enchanter Fiona, all of them had been left behind in an attempt to minimize the influence mages might have in the inquisition. It was cheap and felt more like a sellout than anything else, but Vivienne recognized that with the recent chaos that her fellow mages had been wreaking, it was probably best to give the illusion that the Inquisition had a few less mages than they did, if only to put the public at ease.
Especially considering that word was spreading that mages were most welcome there, to be treated as equals instead of locked away as the general public wished.
She also wondered if they hadn't done this—minimized the mages present in their party—because of the fact that sometimes help was required from unsavory individuals, and if that meant playing up to their comforts to make sure they could be of use, well. It would hardly be the first time she'd had to deal with that.
Most of the time she put said individuals in their place, but even she had to admit that she'd never been up against a king.
Regardless, she'd continued to do her part, sending letters to the appropriate people in a country that mattered, requesting aid and an audience in the court.
Every letter had the same response, even if the flowery words were clumped in different phrases:
With the civil war, it is impossible to sit down with any foreign organizations.
That was the response from both her people on the empress' and grand duke's sides.
She understood it well enough. Even if they did gain an audience with one side, they would have to deal with the fallout from the other.
And so she'd turned to trying to find a way to move things along, feeling for where people stood on the civil war, where weaknesses might be in the sides and how she might be able to sway either side into a way that could benefit her.
And the inquisition of course.
Still, it had been years since someone had slipped a letter under her door—in fact, it hadn't been since she was a young girl in the Circles, working her way up to make sure that no one ever held her back or down.
And so, with no one there to witness, she set aside her makeup and wandered over quietly, picking up the paper to see it wasn't even in an envelope.
The letter was written in Tevene.
Brow pinching together for but a second, Vivienne finished preparing her face and then slipped out of the room, going about her day as usual, though she kept an eye out for anyone who might be watching her, checking to see what she might do with what she'd been given.
She found the time to go to the library, though to her disappointment, the Tevinter mage had apparently left to rid the world of bandits or some such heroism that sounded more like an excuse to get away from the tranquil than anything else. The man was so wholly unnerved by them.
Vivienne pitied them more than anything.
However, regardless of how she felt, when she turned to find one of the tranquil standing directly behind her, blank gaze focused so completely upon her, she couldn't help but stand a little taller.
"Do you need something, my dear?"
"You are Lady Vivienne."
She tilted her head slightly, appraising the woman and pushing aside her desire to react to that eerie monotone. "I am."
"I can translate your letter."
At that, Vivienne's brow arched. "What makes you think I have need for your skills?"
"This morning I found a letter where I work. It said you would need assistance." The tranquil's voice was so dead, her expression so lifeless. "I had tasks to complete, of course, but I intended to come find you when they were finished."
Vivienne stared at the tranquil for what couldn't have been more than a second, though it felt far too long for her as she gathered herself and made sure that her mask never slipped. Someone had given her a message they knew she couldn't read and then set one of the tranquil up to translate for her?
Who would do this?
It felt more like a trap of some sort than anything else, and so Vivienne gave the tranquil a pointed smile and shook her head. "I'm afraid whoever left you that note was mistaken. I'm in no need of services."
Before the tranquil could ask any further questions, she slipped away.
The next day, another note found its way under her door.
Vivienne didn't bother to go to it until she was ready to leave the room this time, leaning down to pick it up in one quick motion and then frowning as she noticed that this note was similar to the last.
Maker preserve her, it was the same note.
How had someone gotten it out of her room?
After finding no clues about what was going on in her room, she settled for finally inspecting the note itself.
A translation had already been written at the bottom.
Maker help them, but if the words scrawled across the page were true, then the venatori were already in Skyhold, working their way in with the rebel mages as they awaited orders. To do what, it didn't say, though she could easily imagine.
Even if there were only a few of them, if they started a riot with magic, the templars would lash out and the mages who weren't involved would fight back. The entire valley would erupt in fighting.
Of course this would be happening when the heads of the organization were away.
Opening the door, she cut her stride short as she found the same tranquil from before waiting for her.
"I translated your note."
"It is not mine if you need to slip it under the door."
"The instructions said I was to do so."
Vivienne frowned. "What instructions?"
The tranquil reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small piece of paper, her motion so smooth, not a single bit of energy wasted.
Were it not for the years she'd spent learning not to let signs of discomfort or unease into her body language, she might have snatched the little paper. Instead, she took it as though she were receiving any other letter, allowing herself to read over the paper without any sign of worry on her face.
Translate this and slip it under Lady Vivienne de Fer's door. She will need this.
The handwriting was simple, yet clear.
"Who gave this to you?"
"It was at my work station."
"So you've no idea who might want me to read this? Templar? Mage? Other?"
"Do you need anything else of me?" The woman asked in that pitiful monotone, expression blank as ever. "I was told to bring the note, but not what to do after."
Taking in a slow breath, Vivienne gave the tranquil a practiced smile. "No, my dear. You may go."
"Goodbye."
And with that, the tranquil turned on her heels and headed off to whatever part of the library she worked in.
Vivienne stood outside her door a moment longer, glancing down to compare the notes. None of the handwritings matched, which made sense, if the first note really was intercepted from some plot afoot.
But what if it wasn't?
Who would benefit from a witch hunt, so to speak, now of all times?
Could the templars be behind this? Were they coming to her because they knew she would be loyal to the Chantry and they thought she would easily toss her fellow mages to the wolves?
No sooner had her door closed, she was en route to see someone she'd dearly hoped she could avoid for the rest of her days.
Grand Enchanter Fiona.