ACT III: The Ship of Fools
"You're out here again, my love?" Dorian scolded gently above my head. I was seated on a short stool just outside of Leliana's work area in the tower. My legs stretched out and up with my ankles hooked on the edge of the railing and my back pressed against the cold stone wall. We shared a glance as I stared up at my Tevinter mage.
"Easier to think." I answered quietly, one hand over my mouth. "Most don't think to bother Leliana up here."
"Beyond your inner circle, you mean." Dorian dropped to his haunches next to me and touched his shoulder against mine for balance. His warmth seeped into my side and into my muscles. My heart hummed happily at the sensation. With a gentle press, I accepted his presence and returned my attention to the cloudy sky above the railing.
"Yeah, you guys aren't as easily cowed." I snorted and crossed my arms under my bosom.
"Nor should we be, if we are running in your shadow." Dorian countered, his arms draped over his bent knees. "You've been out here three days in a row. We were becoming worried."
"Ah," I answered emptily. My palms rubbed together and warmth spread through my skin. I had bets on who had been in the vote to check on me. My index and thumb fingers clicked together thoughtlessly as my thoughts continued to wander despite Dorian's grounding presence.
Dorian reached for one of my hands and held it lightly in his grip.
"Is his execution still on your mind, love?" He prodded. He brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of my loose fingers. I tightened my grip in his hold.
"I don't know why." I murmured in shame, the slow, sluggish thoughts I had collected started to pick up speed. "I've killed… I've killed at least a hundred people in this mess. Why? Why am I giving him the time of day?" Dorian exhaled thoughtfully and fiddled with my fingers to give himself some time to answer.
"War and judgment are different beasts, my love." Dorian started quietly, his gaze fixed on our joined hands. "In war, all atrocities, though not sanctioned, are expected. Lamented, but expected. In judgment, you, and you alone, are responsible for the life and death of a person."
"He did," I skipped several words over my tongue, all of them inadequate to the monstrosity that was Erimond. My thoughts snagged; but am I any different? I've murdered so many, so many soldiers. Civilians. All dead because of me and my plans.
"He manipulated good people into doing evil deeds." Dorian sharply tugged my hand and drew my attention to his face. His brow furrowed with a touch of anger. "In your own way, you've sought to make your judgments as bloodless and deathless as possible."
"Ser Ruth," I immediately countered, my words thick. "Denam."
Dorian nodded, "Yes. Denam to the Templars, who, yes, executed him, but at their discretion. Ser Ruth may die in the Deep Roads, but also at her discretion. You, my fearless heart, have never truly looked someone in the eye that would absolutely die at your doing. That is the difference between war, and judgment."
"You make it sound like it's so easy to understand, Dorian. And trust me, I know, I get it. It's… it's one bad guy in the madness of the rest of them, but." But why does this one feel disgusting? Why does this one feel heavy in my hands? I gripped his hand with a pulse and almost let go afterward, but selfishly kept our hands entwined.
"Did you ever stop to think you may be mourning it, love?" Dorian prompted.
A hard snort shot through my nose. "Why in hells bells would I mourn that tripe-wipe?"
"Not him, personally, love." Dorian clarified as if leading a child. "The action. Mourning the innocence of it. You were once a head among the crowd, a soldier like all the others, and now you're not. You are the Inquisitor, both in name and in action, now more than ever." I exhaled and we sat in silence for a moment. With a cat's grace, Dorian stood and dragged me up with him.
"Come. I originally came to get you to help with Iron Bull. The beast has lost his mind most certainly." Dorian slipped my arm through his and around his elbow to escort me down the exterior stairs that wound around Leliana's tower. A deep groan crawled up my throat and I pinched the bridge of my nose with my free hand.
"No, I don't want to." I muttered childishly. "That bastard hasn't said two words to me since the whole… nightmare thing. And the judgement. And the execution. He's just… existing. In my peripheral space. It's annoying." I wanted to be annoyed, but my stupid heart fluttered nervously whenever Bull was present, hoping against the odds that it was finally an attempt to talk to me.
"Now, now." Dorian patted my hand wrapped on his arm. "He misses you, my love. He's a brute and we can't expect him to articulate such emotion."
"Dorian." I shot the mage a stinky side glare. "You know that's a load of crap."
Dorian huffed, amused. "Is it? He's currently in the courtyard being beaten with a stick by Cassandra."
"He what?" I asked disbelievingly as we made it to the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh yes, it was Cullen before." Dorian nodded with a grim, acted frown. "He was quickly dismissed as not hitting hard enough. Cassandra was recruited soon after, but I do not believe she is doing much better."
I groaned louder. "Why."
"Goodness, dove, as if I would honestly know." Dorian rebuffed as he led me through the lower courtyard toward the tavern on the mid-level. Plenty of the nobles had stayed on after the judgements had been completed, still hoping for an audience with me. Josephine had taken to setting up appointments to appease most of them, on the strict orders I was not to be bothered in my own time as I wandered through Skyhold.
That didn't mean I completely ignored the hungry glances that came my way as I walked around.
"Desperate, aren't they?" Dorian murmured amusedly, his gaze caught a few nobles in their stares and intimidated them enough to turn their heads.
I sighed. "I don't know what they expect from me, it's not like I'm going to solve their estate problems, or the war the Empress is caught up in."
"Of course not, and only the most golden hearted expect it of you. We know how rare those are in the populace." Dorian chuckled. "They only want your attention, to gossip that they had it, personally, for however long they can reasonably lie about it."
"Vultures." I muttered, exhausted deep in my bones.
"Yes, but this is why Lady Josephine has allotted them appointments with Madam De Fer and myself, so we may sort what's worthy of your attention and not." Dorian nodded sagely.
I glanced at him askance. "Is this why you and Vivienne have been escorting me everywhere?"
"But of course!" Dorian grinned mischievously. "It gives us some legitimacy in that we are your closest confidants and it's an honor to be heard by her left and right hands." A snort shot through my nose and I quickly smothered the bubble of laughter that threatened to whistle through my teeth.
"Cheeky." I shot back at him, my shoulders relaxing in the warmth of our banter.
"Always, my love." Dorian pressed a firm kiss to my temple, churning the rumor mill amongst the nobles in the yard. We cleared the stairs to the mid-level courtyard and quickly my ears picked up the hard grunts and groans of Cassandra and Bull. The noise echoed from the small training area that was tucked into the obscure corner of the yard by the requisitions office.
"What in god's name." I sighed, watching as Cassandra struck a hard blow against Bull's face, knocking him flat on his back. At the crunch of our footsteps, she turned to us, sweating and red faced with her brow furrowed deeply at the peak of her nose bridge.
She took a moment to thrust the pole into my fumbling hands.
"Here," she growled, "perhaps you can do better. Dorian, I require your assistance with Lady and Lord Matchenfur, they are currently petitioning for an audience."
"Ah, yes, I remember them." Dorian answered, smoothly switching my arm for Cassandra's. He bowed his head to me, "Good luck, my love."
I sighed again as they left, and then turned to my Qunari as he lifted himself off the ground.
"Do I even want to know?" I asked him once he was on his feet. The bastard had the nerve to grin at me, rolling his shoulders loose.
"Qunari training exercise to master your fear." He promptly answered. "Been a while since I needed it, but that nightmare demon was… big." I paused, searching his face. Despite the humor in his tone, his shoulders were still rock hard tense and his jowls clenched hard with his molars.
Huh.
"So, can you explain why I'm supposed to hit you with a stick?" I narrowed my eyes.
"Probably, if I try. It'd involve a lot of Qunari words, though." Bull shrugged, his stressed shoulders hardly moving. At my silence, he rolled his eyes and gestured to the pole with an open palm. "Just hit me with the stick, all right? I need to get over this demon crap so we can have a conversation."
My brow rose. "Oh, so we're gonna actually talk about that nonsense, are we?"
He glared.
"You know what. Sure." I answered his challenge. Ten years of little league softball, here we come. I stood just close enough to aim at his stomach like a softball about to pass the middle of home-base and settled the toes and soles of my feet wider than my shoulders. I bent my knees with my hands near the back of my right shoulder so that I could swing with my full weight.
His eye widened for a split second in surprise before I swung.
The pole connected solidly into his stomach, biting into the flesh and muscle enough to ripple. Bull's good foot shifted back to brace for the impact and steadied him before he stumbled too far out of my swing. His chest heaved as his diaphragm seized from the blow and he coughed as he laughed.
"There we go!" He shifted back into place excitedly. "Yeah! Damn demon, who's stuck in the Fade, huh!"
Gonna have to talk about his coping mechanisms, for sure. Elbow up and out, another adjustment of my stance with my grip twisting for a lower swing up toward his gut instead of directly into it, I batted again into the muscled torso as hard as I could. Bull's body stuttered to one side for a second as the blow connected into his liver.
"That demon was gonna rip us in half, for sure." I played along, noting that his eyes hadn't focused on me or the pole in my hands. If his mind was still caught back in the Fade with the Nightmare, I needed my Qunari to drag himself back out, once and for all.
"Not a chance!" Bull growled, his gaze shifting from the absent sight over my shoulder to my face, a heated glare forming. "Piece of Fade piece of crap!" For half a second, my pull back for another swing hesitated as my thoughts rolled over themselves.
I took another swing to avoid the distraction.
"And who killed you?" Bull growled, low in his throat, his anger coiled like a tension rope through his body. "That's right, Iron fucking Bull!" I made no comment on the fact that Stroud had, presumably, been the one to kill it. I was also going to avoid thinking about the fact that we had left the man behind to kill it. Hopefully.
Bull stepped away from the reach of my swing and fisted his hands tightly, exhaling in controls bursts. Clearly, the training was at its end and I shifted from my batting stance into a soft slouch with the pole in my hands.
"Why am I not surprised you like it that rough?" I said instead, setting the pole upright to use it as a brace for my weight.
"Only when it's you, boss." A laugh clicked between his teeth. "Thanks, by the way."
"Not every day I get a therapeutic chance to beat the shit outta someone. Hard to pass up, you know?" I answered with a practiced shrug. Considering he chose this as his method of dealing with his fear, I played under the assumption that actually talking about it would have him clamming back up again and that was not the end goal. It did, however, amuse me greatly that he was ready to discuss anyone else's trauma instead of his own.
"Clever of Dorian to drag you out here for it." Bull stretched and rolled his shoulders back. "He's been trying to get me to talk to you for days, now."
My brow rose a fraction. "Color me not surprised, he's a loveable busybody."
Bull snorted, dropping his arms. "He is that. Look. All of that isn't—"
"Stop." I raised a hand. "I don't care. I don't care what we saw or didn't see in the Fade. That's not my issue to deal with, not from you, of all people."
Bull's single eye widened.
"What I do care about is your broken promise." I plowed on, tightening my throat in the hopes that I wouldn't just burst into tears now that I was going to have my moment on stage. "When we met you told me I was getting a frontline bodyguard—demons, or dragons! Bigger the better—isn't that what you said?"
"Yes." Bull's back straightened. Perhaps he realized I wasn't about to ream him for his emotional or mental shortcomings. Everyone had those, hell, I still struggled with my own, but this was more about his professional promise, his job. I at least knew my Qunari well enough to know that it wasn't the emotional aspect of our relationship that mattered to him.
It was his qualified skill to do his task.
The Iron Bull was just as much of a title as Ben Hassrath.
This was the only way I would make him listen to me.
"I don't know how much bigger I could have made it short of us walking into the Black City." I added from low in my throat, my gaze glued to his green eye. "I don't expect you to coddle me or soothe me or whatever the hell else I need emotionally because I have Dorian for that, but you, I don't expect you to turn your back when I need you, do you understand that?"
A swallow went down past his Adam's apple. "Yes, Boss."
"Good," I nearly snarled, the heat of a turbulent rage threatened to climb up from my stomach. "Because next time you decide to ignore me because you can't handle whatever is going on in your head without telling me about it, consider yourself fired. Clear?"
"Clear, Kadan." The madman had the audacity to allow a hint of a smile quirk his lips. You're a monster, I gritted my teeth at the nickname, hoping against hope that the heat I felt in my neck and ears was from the receding rage and not embarrassment. With a deep exhale, my shoulders relaxed and I held the pole out to him.
"Cool beans," I muttered with a frown, "as long as we're good on that, the rest doesn't matter."
"Right." Bull took the stick from me and hesitated. At this, I quirked an eyebrow; was there something else? Whatever it was, he decided against it with a pressed mouth and shake of his head.
"So I heard Josie's rounding us up for a shopping spree?"
Val Royeaux was a working set of lungs once it was out of the grip of angry Chantry Mothers and the lance of wayward Templars had been removed. The breeze that wandered through the city whispered with echoes of relieved sighs and contented hums. The Empress' war was on the outlands and fringes of this pocket world's influence and the nobles did their best to ignore the suffering of their lessers.
Josephine had dragged my inner circle to the golden, glittering city in the hopes of procuring new attire for the gala we were to attend in about two weeks. It wasn't enough time to get everything tailored, much to Josephine's displeasure, but it would allow for enough of the bulk of the work to be completed if we were all together. It would have been unreasonable to expect a single tailor or even a group of them to make the journey to Skyhold with their materials.
"Look at that!" Sera's voice floated over the din of the chatter in the tavern we invaded. With all the rooms rented out on the second and third floors of this establishment, it made sense that my people would also take over most, if not all, of the available surface areas of the tavern under them. The proprietress was having a field day, but I wasn't entirely sure it was a good one.
Vivienne and Dorian shared a small round table near the front of the tavern with the double doors thrown open to allow the cool breeze to flutter past them. They glittered like the golden paint that swirled through Val Royeaux's main street and drew attention of the passing nobles and merchants with ease. Easy money for the proprietress as the passers-by stumbled in to catch a glimpse of Madam De Fer and her companion. Varric and Blackwall held down their table just behind the sparkling mages and held their conversation just above the edges of their tankards. I wasn't sure if they were there as fake bodyguards or real ones, and at this point I wasn't in on the joke so it was too late to ask.
Sera had dragged a group of merchants into a wild game of Wicked Grace that I barely knew the rules to, so I wasn't about to stick my nose into what looked like a winning streak for Sera. Krem was right next to her, as second pair of eyes for the Iron Bull to watch over the Inner Circle as Josephine attempted to set up some sort of structure and organization to this mad outing.
Cassandra, Solas, and Iron Bull sat at my table. Casual enough to appear open and friendly, but intimidating enough to keep anyone from taking it as an open invitation to chat. I was sandwiched between Cassandra and Bull on my left and right, with Solas sitting in front of me, sipping at a cup of tea with displeasure.
"It's hot leaf water, Solas, I'm not sure what you were expecting." I teased him once the cup was placed back on its cracked saucer.
"I will not have opinions from the uncultured, thank you." Solas shot back easily, his nose delicately scrunched.
"It is also far too early for ale or the like." Cassandra added with a sniff toward Blackwall and Varric, their tankards filled with something murky and frothy.
"Hey, someone has to have fun with this mess." Bull replied, his own tankard filled with watered down red wine. "Besides, if they're at least slightly drunk, it makes fitting them in their outfits easier."
"Because they'll be amiable to it, or loose-limbed?" Cassandra muttered.
"Considering that is their third pint each, hopefully incapacitated." Solas gently pushed his tea away. Curious, I reached for it with childishly wiggly fingers and snatched it away before Solas could slap my hands off. I took a careful sip from the opposite edge from where he drank. My muscles ticked with a pleasant shock of surprise.
"Oh," I glanced into the cup as if I would divine its secrets, "it tastes like oolong tea. What the hell?"
"Uncultured, huh?" Bull teased Solas with a solid gulp of his wine.
"Ooo-long? How would you know the type of tea if it is hot leaf water?" Cassandra challenged with a raised eyebrow, her arms braced on the table as she glanced into the cup as well.
"Uh, 'cause it tastes like grass." I answered, owl eyes blinking in her direction. Bull snorted into his tankard and coughed quietly to one side, patting his chest to clear his throat. Solas shot him an expectant look with his non-existed eyebrows as if to say; see?
Bastards.
"The plant comes from Tevinter, it is picked tender, and they are dried multiple times before they are shaped and packaged for merchants and nobles." Solas educated me. I barely remembered anything from tea-making, which had been more Caleb's area of interest, along with his paints and pigments. A smile tugged at my lips with the wispy memory.
"That doesn't sound much different than any other tea I've heard about." Bull replied, his throat cleared of both laughter and wine. "All tea is, is dried leaves or fruits."
"No, not really. I think with this one, it's not just, like, dried once. It's dried, and then it's dried. Usually at a higher temperature, like roasting coffee." I answered, pushing the half-empty cup of tea back in Solas' general direction.
"Since when have you been given Antivan coffee?" Cassandra's face pinched with confusion. "Such a trade would be expensive."
"Hold on a hot minute, you're telling me you guys have coffee? And no one thought to share this with me?" I accused her, my gaze shooting a playful glare her way. "What's next, you gonna tell me you have chocolate or cocoa?"
"Uh," Bull hesitated with a chuckle, "… yes? That is also expensive, though. I had asked Varric to import some for me, but it's been a few weeks." My neck nearly snapped as I turned to my Qunari in surprise, my eyes wide with betrayal. Solas had picked up his little tea cup and pointedly sipped at it, his attention cast away into the crowd to avoid laughing at us.
"You're sharing." I immediately demanded, startling Bull.
"What are you going to do with it, kadan?" Bull asked, genuine curiosity colored in.
"Hot chocolate! Warm milk, sugar if it's just straight cocoa, or cookies!" I justified, laughing. Naturally, I should have assumed that such similarities would exist between one world and the next. Just because they didn't have automobiles didn't mean they couldn't have other luxuries like chocolate. Bull grinned at me and slung an arm over my shoulders and hugged me into his side. Cassandra casually shifted in her sit to avoid the swing of his fist.
"Woman after my own heart! Shit, now I really got to check in with Varric about that shipment." Bull ruffled the hair on my head, puffing strands that had escaped my braid. Cassandra sighed with her eyes closed and Solas huffed, quietly amused.
"Ah, finally." Solas commented, his eyes locked on Josephine as she stepped in through the double doors of the tavern. "It must have taken considerable effort to gather enough tailors at once for our group." Josephine was at least in her element; her clothes were gleaming copper and blue, puffed at the shoulders and straightened at the skirt. She went from table to table, rounding up my inner circle for our invasion into some poor merchant's shop.
"Five crowns Sera rips at least one expensive outfit." Bull called to the table as we waited our turn to be herded.
"Coward." Cassandra answered quietly. "Ten crowns it is the first outfit."
"Cassandra, I thought you liked a challenge. Twenty crowns it isn't torn, but stained instead." Solas countered, standing from his seat as Josephine neared.
"That's not fair," Bull replied, keeping his voice low, "she almost always has something wet in her pockets."
I scrunched my nose at the thought, then added: "Thirty crowns, it's not torn, it is stained, and it's specifically mustard."
All three of my companions shot me curious looks and I grinned at them, unrepentant. I, perhaps, had an unfair advantage knowing that it was only a few days ago that Josephine had scolded Sera for a stain of mustard that the laundry-maids couldn't remove from Josephine's favorite brassiere. How it got stained was still a mystery. Sera had a score to settle.
Bull narrowed his single eye. "I don't like that, I know that smile. You know something."
"How the hell would you what any of my expressions mean." I shoved at his hip to get him out from around the bench so I could stand as Solas had. Cassandra had carefully slid down the other end to avoid waiting for us.
"I like your face, why would it surprise you that I stare at it?" My Qunari teased. Surprised and caught off-guard with a flush of pleasure rushing up to my ears, I knuckled his side and forced him to slip off the bench, his laugh ringing over my ears.
Rude.
Sure enough, Josephine had manage to convince enough tailors and merchants to have a small market faire in the shopping district of Val Royeaux. Booths had been raised and filled to the brim with different outfits and styles, a dazzling array of colors and textures with shoes and accessories to match each and every one. Further down the path and at the end that blocked off any of the public from mistakenly wandering into the private affair was a dark clothed and shaded booth for the main tailor, who would fit us with our measurements on the attires we chose.
I exhaled in surprised, "Woof, Josephine really went all out, didn't she?"
"Considering that coordinating all of us together is no small task and far more difficult than herding cats, it makes sense." Bull commented lightly with a hand raised to shield his eye from the midday sun. Solas had wandered off toward a booth that housed a selection of elven affairs, colors reminiscent of mountains and desert forests, and the owner was a small, dainty female-elf whose only attire was a deep sea-purple shawl that covered her from neck to knee.
Cute, I smiled.
"Is that an armorer?" Cassandra twittered in surprise. "I wouldn't have imagined she'd allow us to wear armor to the gala."
"I mean, well." I hazarded a guess. "I suppose if all else fails and we can't find something we like, we can default to armor?"
"Oh yes, and allow the nobles to point fingers and laugh at us, naturally." Cassandra groused, but she still made her way toward the booth that stood straight and narrow among the fine silks and gentle gossamer. After she disappeared, I turned my attention to the Qunari at my side.
"Well?" I prompted. Bull's green eye swiveled down to my face.
"Well? You need to pick something out first before I do, kadan." He replied, grinning. "How else am I going to match?" A rattle of electricity tickled up my shoulders into my neck and I cleared my throat, rolling my eyes for good measure to avoid looking over that smug smirk.
"Right, sure. I'm not wearing dawnstone, my skin's not the right complexion for it." I replied hastily. A few of the booths around us were color-coded, clearly someone's idea of ease of access to those uninitiated to fashion and color theory. Wonder if that is for me. Aside from Cole, who was carefully absent until absolutely needed, I was the closest thing to fashion-ignorant for Thedas as one could get.
"Nah, I'm thinking something silver, or off-white, like pearls." Bull pondered aloud, rubbing his chin as he walked down the path toward the booths. "That way I could wear something darker that doesn't clash with my complexion."
"Hey, quick question: who decided we were gonna match, anyway?" I demanded in amusement. Last that I had heard, Josephine wanted most of the inner circle to choose their individual styles to stand out amongst the crowd of nobles, like jewels on display, to avoid any attention caught up in the potential counter-measures we were planning for Celene's assassination.
"Mm, spur of the moment, thought it would be cute." Bull answered, his smile high in his cheeks.
"Sap." I accused lightly, chuckling. "Alright, fine, we'll look for something, but you gotta convince Josephine to agree to it."
"Deal," Bull tipped his head in agreement, pleased. Solidly attempting to ignore the flush in my cheeks, I set my eyes on the first booth that matched Bull's suggested colors. I wasn't too keen to wear a dress or skirt to the gala, mostly because if I was possibly in the need of fending off an attacker, I was not skilled enough to be able to maneuver in one.
Maybe…? There were a few options for suits. A handful of coats were similar to the ones I wore for my judgments, but it may be in poor form to wear something I had just executed someone in. A small, threatening shudder went through my back and I straightened my shoulders to ignore it.
Abruptly, Bull's shadow fell over my head, "Kadan?"
"Hm? What's up?" I peered up at him, confused.
"Good?" Bull asked, his only eye inspecting my expression. My brow frowned, but I nodded in assurance. He ruffled my hair again and went back to the selection of tunics and vests that had originally caught his eye. Weird. With a shake of my head, I continued my search for acceptable clothing that would pass Josephine's critical eye.
"I found something." Cole's gentle voice off my right shoulder startled me. Taking a moment to slowly unclench my fingers in the tunic I had been inspecting, I turned slightly to find Cole immediately next to me, but empty-handed.
"Yeah, buddy?" I replied with a smile. "Where is it? In this booth, or somewhere else?"
"It's over there." Cole pointed to another booth across from the one I was in and with a nod, I made my way over to it. Bull watched as I went, his eye spying Cole, but he stayed in his section, seemingly engrossed in his color selection.
"Here?" I asked the open air, knowing Cole would hear me. A gentle shift of the empty space at my right compelled me forward toward a rack of hats at the back of the stall. A smile spread across my face as I neared it, because of course it would be hats. The owner of the booth noticed my entrance, but either assured I would make a selection or instructed to leave me undisturbed, they remained at the front of their booth behind a small desk, their quill once again set to parchment.
"Let's see, which one did you pick?" I murmured. There was a large choice on the rack, which stood nearly a half a foot above my head, though none of the hats were uncomfortably out of reach. A few were plain bowlers with either bows or small flowers embedded in them with a strip of silk. Others were reminiscent of homburg hats, or fascinators with elegant decorative fabric twisted up into exaggerated shapes.
"Was it this one, Cole?" I asked the emptiness, pulling a boater hat from the rack. It was wide rimmed, wider than the style I remembered from Earth, with a long, playful white feather that rested against the deep coral-blue fabric base.
"I like the feather." Cole agreed softly. "It's soft."
"It's a good choice." I chuckled, fitting the hat over my head to avoid too much suspicious as I held a conversation with an invisible companion. It rested heavily over my brow and the rim shadowed my eyes like something from a noir film. I grinned and removed it.
"Yeah, this will work. Let's get you to Josephine so she can find you a vest with it, okay?" I whispered. Cole's presence disappeared from my side, likely to find Josephine. I made my way up toward the person manning the small desk at the front and gently held the hat in my hands.
"I would like to have this one, serah." I announced politely. The porcelain mask tilted up toward me, the eyes slits and lined with a rose-red swipe at the waterline of the eye. The lips were a pale green that was patterned like fish scales. The clothes were just as opulent as was the style in Val Royeaux, loud and bright, with a thick collar that rested on the shoulders and drooped away from the chin.
"Ah, wonderful!" Their thick accent swam happily from the mask. "An excellent piece! A new fashion from a new designer, they will be pleased to hear the Inquisition has taken an interest. I will mark the selection with the rest and Lady Montilyet will see to the settlement, enjoy!"
"Oh, that's perfect, thank you, ser." I bowed my head as manners dictated and left with Cole's hat secure in my hands. Not long after I had stepped away from the booth did I have Josephine making her way down the carpeted path toward me, an inquiry in her gaze.
"Inquisitor!" Josephine tipped her head politely, keeping a professional appearance in view of an unknown crowd of gossiping merchants. "I was made aware you required my input on a fashion, yes?"
"Yes, Josephine, if you could find something for Cole in this color? This is his hat." I handed the item to her for inspection. My Hydra-head turned the hat over in her hands, careful of the feather and the shape of the hat. She nodded.
"Yes, this will be agreeable. I will find a simple suit for him. Was there anything else?" Josephine settled the hat in the palms of her hands.
"No, ma'am, thank you." I bowed with Josephine and allowed her to leave, the shimmer of Cole's outline disappearing with her.
A crash sounded behind me.
"Sera, no!"
A laugh broke out of me as I dashed to the scene of the crime.
"It wasn't even tha' bigga stain." Sera grumbled as I help lace up the back of the dress she had chosen.
"Well, no, but it is mustard, and that's hard to get out." I answered readily, tying off the end of the lace and tugging out the wrinkles of her skirt. "It was also a very expensive dress, so Josephine's right to be upset."
"Pft." Sera scoffed, adjusting her bodice. "It's just fabric, a good wash'n it'll come r'gh' out."
"Sure," I chuckled. The dress was fitted to her body, a rare occurrence that an article of clothing would fit the wearer from the onset. It was a beautiful sunflower yellow with brown stitching that made an illusion of a tail at the back of the skirt even if it didn't reach to Sera's knees.
"You know," I said absently, "if we have time, maybe someone can embroider bumblebees on your skirt or bodice."
Sera grinned into the mirror in front of her. "Y'think? That would be grand! Lotsa needle work, tho', and Miss Priss don' look incline to g've me any favors."
"Ehh, I'll… talk to Josephine." I laughed. "Shouldn't be too hard. We could probably get you some pants, too, if you still want to bring a bow."
"Wouldn' tha' be a right s'ght?" Sera snickered, stretching her arms over her head to settle the fabric over her shoulders. I winced slightly, knowing that most dresses made in this day and age weren't meant to stretch in such a fashion, but she was happy, and the dress was as good as purchased, anyway.
"Looks good. You going to walk out with it, then?" I asked over her shoulder, catching her attention in the mirror's reflection.
"Why not? Ain' like none gunna stop me, are they?" Sera tugged at the collar around her neck, as it settled just on the edge of her collarbone. Her pale skin was freckled from her neck down to the dip of her collar into the bodice and breast area, with the torso fanning out gently into the short skirt.
"Nah, don't think they're going to want a repeat of a mustard bomb slipping casually out of your pocket, ma'am." I rubbed at my nose. "I won a bet because of you, by the by."
Sera blinked at me, surprised. "Wot? Bettin' I would make a mess?"
"Hm, not quite. I was betting you'd ruin one outfit, not by tearing, but with mustard. Specifically." I ticked off the requirements on my fingers, fighting a smile as I saw Sera's face crack into a grin through the mirror.
"Cheeky! Hopefully you dinna say I had to be wearin' it!" Sera clarified with rosy cheeks.
"Hell no, I ain't dumb. Just said it was one outfit, not that you had to be wearing it." I replied smartly, chin tipped high.
"Atta gurl!" Sera clicked her tongue happily. She turned to me from her spot on the short, round platform and jumped off, her weight smacking into my chest. With a stumble, I caught her around the waist and felt a wet kiss slap my cheek as she hurried from the booth.
Then, between one inhale and the next, my reality shifted. The step forward to follow Sera had me back on the gallows, the ropes we had set up for our judgements swayed in the light breeze. The click of my boots on the wood planks rang in my ears and Erimond was forced to kneel in front of me.
My palms started to sweat and heat beaded the back of my neck.
No. No, pull back. We're not here, we're not here!
A hand slipped under my braid and enclosed my clammy skin with the heat of another's palm. With a snap, the world stretched and slammed back into place. A hard blink cleared my vision and Bull's torso stood beside me, a shield between me and the world as I wrenched my mind out of the brainfog.
"Kadan?" Bull's hand drifted away from my neck to my shoulder, holding me steady.
"I'm back," I immediately answered. "My brain slipped away for a moment, sorry."
"Yeah, been there." Bull kept his hand on my shoulder, his thumb brushing against my collarbone. "Where did you get caught up?" There was a heart's hesitation. I could still see Erimond's face as he glared up at me from his knees. The Inquisition Sword was ice cold in my hands. I had promised Erimond that he wouldn't escape me, not in this life or the next.
Maybe it was actually the other way around?
"I," hesitated again. My right eye twitched and a sigh whistled through my nose. "The execution." Bull remained silent, but his hand was solid and grounded me as my mind wandered.
"The first one sticks with you. Don't let him haunt you, kadan." Bull pulled his hand away from my shoulder and I straightened my back from the weight that had kept me frozen in place.
"Yeah, sure."
"That looks beautiful, Inquisitor."
My gaze flickered to Blackwall's reflection as he and Varric stepped into the booth's entrance. Bull stood off to my right side, his arms crossed as he balanced on a small tailor's stool, his braced ankle hooked on the platform I stood on. A seamstress stood off to the side, her hands pulled away from the short tail of the dress coat I wore. I smiled at my companions through the mirror.
"You think?" I asked, my hands had come to a rest just above my navel. My gaze carefully ignored Bull's sharp eye from my peripheral as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. He had been the one to pick out the latest outfit I wore, a black vested dress with sharp shoulders, gold accents, that dropped into a tail that flowered into a slim skirt and train.
"Definitely fits your style." Varric nodded, his face appearing near my hip in the mirror. "Classic, minimal, imposing."
"Imposing?" I chided, my shoulders dropping slightly. "I don't look imposing."
"Kadan, that color, with your eyes and those scars?" Bull chuckled, his arms crossed over his chest. "He's not wrong."
"It does accentuate your unique beauty, Inquisitor." The seamstress added confidently. Her practiced hands reached up and brushed my braid over my shoulder and straightened the padded edges of my shoulders over the line of my collarbone.
"I would bet a crown or two you could even still swing a hammer in that outfit." Blackwall teased, hidden behind my back and out of the way of the seamstress' hemming of my train. She tutted at him disapprovingly, to which Blackwall hastily added: "Not that she would be required to at the gala, I am most certain."
Bull and Varric snickered into their arms.
"How many has she gone through already?" Varric turned to Bull, brow raised questioningly.
"This is her fifth? Fourth, Mistress Estel?" Bull passed the question to the seamstress behind me.
"Her fifth, serah." Mistress Estel answered in a measured tone. "All of them have been equally lovely on her, though… I would be so bold as to say this one is a favorite."
"Oooh," Bull teased me with a waggled eyebrow, "hear that, kadan? A favorite."
"Why are you mocking me like I'm an indecisive child?" I snipped at him with a side-shot glare.
"If you've gone through five outfits and haven't decided on one," Blackwall started, his face popping up beside my shoulder in the reflective silver, his beard twitching in amusement.
"I will kick you in the throat," I threatened, fighting a smile. "You're not allowed to side with him, you're supposed to be on my side."
"Where have I heard that logic before?" Varric riddled in mock curiosity. "She seems to pull that card a lot, doesn't she?"
"Oh, she does." Blackwall nodded sagely. "She seems to think it works on us."
"Worked on me," Bull defended with a laugh.
"That's because you're a coward who can't give her a straight no for an answer." Varric challenged with his hands on his hips. Mistress Estel was quietly continuing her work on my skirt, but I could see that she was desperately fighting a runaway laugh.
"I can tell her no, that isn't a problem." Bull retorted, grinning toothily.
"You give her maybes." Blackwall answered with a bark of laughter. "There's been no no's in your vocabulary since you were hired."
"That's slander, Warden. If she's making unreasonable requests, I tell her no." Bull replied helpfully, nodding his head as if this was a known answer.
"She's always making unreasonable requ—" Blackwall threw back immediately.
"When hasn't she made unreason—" Varric added loudly.
Bull and I collapsed into laughter. The poor Mistress Estel had caught my elbow to keep me from stumbling off the platform. She had her lips rolled into her teeth and held me steadily even as her eyes crinkled in the corners as she waited out our childish teasing. It took a handful of moments before we were able to breath normally again. Varric flashed me a broad, happy grin as Blackwall rubbed a hand down his face and into the bottom of his beard.
"I don't have the head for this madness. Pick your outfit before Josephine comes in here to pick it for you." Blackwall muttered playfully as he reached up and flicked my ear.
"Honestly, sweetheart, this looks like a fine pick. Ignoring everything else we've said, you do look damn good." Varric gently saluted me before he ambled his way out of the small fitting area with Blackwall not far behind. Mistress Estel sighed (perhaps in relief) and stood into my line of sight once they were gone.
"I believe, then, that this will be the outfit to take?" She asked gently, her professionalism back in force.
"Yes, mistress, I'm so sorry." I sighed, bowing my head slightly. "I will have this outfit."
"And that first dress she had on, too." Bull interjected suddenly. Mistress Estel shot me a questioning look, and reluctantly, I nodded and hoped the fire that licked up my neck wasn't noticeable through my skin. Damn him, I fired another glare at him as Mistress Estel bowed and left us to list the items and their adjustments.
"The first dress?" I asked between my teeth, turning to face him fully instead of through the mirror.
"Ah, kadan, you can't blame me." His voice suddenly dipped as if it went through my stomach and between my legs. The embers that had tickled my collarbone and neck suddenly sprung to life and licked at my ears. He smirked up at me from his stool; for all that he looked ridiculous balancing on a stool that could only hold half his ass, the crossed arms and darkened eye eliminated much of that hilarity.
"It was a nice dress. Long, pearl-colored, and flowy." He continued with a small shrug to his shoulders despite the smirk never slipping from his mouth.
I narrowed my eyes at him and forced my voice past my thundering heart. "Bull, it was practically all lace and very little else."
"Mmhm." The darkened eye swiveled around my hips, up past my stomach, slowly over my breasts and finally landed on my face. "I know. It was a very nice dress."
"You're a pervert." I croaked, stepping down from the platform and sniping his nose between my thumb and index finger. I tweaked it softly in reprimand. "You're lucky I know your wiles, otherwise I would have punched you for that look."
"Oh?" He chuckled, waving off my hand from his face. "And I wonder what it means that you didn't."
The blush had reached my eyebrows.
"You know what, deal rescinded." I tipped my nose upward. "We're not matching now." Bull rose from the stool with a quiet humming laugh and the heart I so desperately ignored behind my ribs twittered weakly as it swooned with every inch that he rose to stand next to me.
"Hm, we'll see about that." He replied, a gentle, gnarled hand came to rest under my chin. Electricity zipped from my chin to my shoulders and down my spine, rooting my heels to the ground as my face was tipped with a purposeful thumb to one side.
A searing, forge-fire kiss was pressed against my cheek and teased at the corner of my mouth. My mind lost track of space and my eyes blurred my vision as he pulled away. His shadow passed over me like a moon's presence through an eclipse and the swirling heat of my stomach dropped me back into reality.
The flapping fabric of the booth's entrance waved Bull in farewell as he disappeared.
Note: Christ, I hadn't realized how long it was since I last updated. I was going through a writer's block and a rough patch of life, and decided to forego the previously planned chapter and went with Fluff instead. Don't hate, appreciate (yes, I know what I did, hehehe). Thank you to all who continue to return, your reviews have literally lifted my spirits every time. Love and good vibes to all my peeps.
