BEAUTY LAVELLAN & THE IRON BEAST

/ Just a little change \
Small to say the least
Both a little scared
Neither one prepared
\ Beauty and the beast. /

Skyhold came as a very pleasant surprise. Aside the fact that it offered much more shelter than Haven ever could, events took an unexpected turn. Arte'mys never, in her whole life, expected herself to amount to much – she was never the best, always average. She wasn't bad at what she was doing, but not good enough to stand out. There was a boy in her clan – Yevrian – who had been taken under the leader's wing after his family had been wiped out when he was but a child. They grew up together, and were always by each-other's side; although it led to many treasured times, it also ended up with her being overshadowed by him ever since his arrival. He had always been better, at everything – he was stealthier, smarter; he could memorize better and learn quicker, he made better decisions, and didn't let emotions cloud his judgement. Perhaps the tragedy he had to live out had hardened him and caused him to distance himself into coldness; truth be told, he had many admirers, but Arte'mys had been his only true friend, who had also seen the sides of him that weren't perfect, the sides he didn't put on display to impress and gain acceptance. She still wondered why it had been her and not Yevrian who had been sent on the recon mission to the Conclave; at times, her thoughts wandered into dangerous territory. Perhaps they knew what would happen. I was disposable. He would always be precious. Precious Yevrian, the brilliant orphan boy. Despite her petty jealousy of him, Lavellan harboured great love for the boy. He was her best friend, her brother, the shoulder she could always cry on. They both knew the power plays that were going on, but it didn't change their relationship. She thought of him often; reflecting on the fact that the clan had sent no further scouts to find out what had happened to her. They all assumed I died. It wasn't a big deal. Not worth losing more men.

She was bitter. She had always been secretly bitter about never being in the spotlight. Always a little jealous, always not as good as someone else, always too childish. Most times, she thought nobody took her seriously. Her acidity softened over time, when their clan sent a letter to the Inquisition, in the very beginning of her adventure, having heard of a Dalish prisoner being held under custody. The leader had wrote it, no less. It was even a little flattering. Josephine helped in formulating a diplomatic response, although there was so much Arte'mys wished she could say. For the time being, she had to fight. She had to keep fighting and persevering if she wanted to get the chance to see her home again. She did it for their sake. It kept her going. Every morning, she thought of the old gods, of her family, of her companions back in the recon squad. If only they could see her now.

Inquisitor Lavellan. The ring of it sent joy throughout her whole being. Inquisitor… her? A little elf girl who grew up in a remote forest and never quite accomplished anything impressive had now become a leader, a symbol. She was changing the world. She had rallied good people, she had made new friendships, she had met allies who made her world ten times better. Living was so much fun now, more than it had ever been. Everything was so intense. Every moment mattered, every breath, every spoken and unspoken word. Everyone looked up to her, respected her, admired her, and acknowledged her as a person worthy of leading them into a brighter tomorrow. Her? Average Arte'mys who always slept in and always tied the knots of her gear too strongly, who always got the ingredient measurements wrong? It was like a dream.

Ever since she had fallen through the rip in the sky, from the Fade back onto solid ground, her life had been like a dream. She couldn't have ever fathomed embarking on such an adventure, meeting the amazing people she did, and fighting for the greater good of any and all that inhabited Thedas. A hero. How unexpected, how thrilling. It was as if her blood rushed faster than ever. She could almost feel herself improving – she was lighter on her feet, her step was quicker; reactions came without as much delay, and her spirit hardened when she had to make tough calls. Perhaps she was growing, along with the Inquisition, along her trustworthy friends. She could only hope to honour the faith that so many had in her; to lead them to greatness. To peace, to happiness. Inquisitor Lavellan. She hoped that would be her legacy. The Dalish girl living in a dream.

[x]

The sun was shying away as dusk crept in, a few stars gazing down at Skyhold from among bleeding shades of coral and lavender. The first couple of days were the most hectic, with every soul of the stronghold trying to figure out where they fit in best and how they could serve most efficiently. They all found their place, eventually, as a healer, as a soldier, as a mother, as a tavern girl, as a bard. Arte'mys had become enchanted with the bard's voice, always passing by the tavern door whenever she was rushing about to meet her Advisors and discuss demanding matters, pausing for a few moments to take in her beautiful voice. It reminded her of the dulcet tones of her sister Nesilva; she was the sweetest of all five of them. The whole family knew that roses nested in her blushing cheeks; when she cried, fresh morning dew poured from the emerald orbs that bejewelled her doll-like face. Always quiet, always lost in her thoughts, lost in the parchments of her own written music, scattered all over their home. Many of the clan's men revered Nesilva for her angelic beauty and the graceful talent with which she strummed any chord to her will; the older women were overjoyed by her, and the younger girls admired her aura of purity and elegance. Beautiful Nesilva, almost so stunning that she looked like she belonged in the realm of the Gods.

"Your Worship?"

Krem emerged from behind the wooden door, an eyebrow rising slightly. Lavellan almost let out a small gasp as she snapped out of her daydreaming, standing straight as opposed to earlier, when she was resting against the stone wall, eavesdropping on the tones of music that escaped the tavern's confinement.

"Lieutenant Cremisius—""Please, Inquisitor. Just call me Krem."

"Lavellan, then." "I… beg your pardon?" "Call me Lavellan."

Colour unleashed on the brims of her cheeks, lips curving into a sheepish smile. "I'm not nobility, or any sort of deity. We're on equal terms. There's no need to be so formal."

The mercenary dismissed a second thought that was crossing his mind. "Lady Lavellan, then." That earned a giggle. "Al right, I surrender."

"Will you be joining us?" With a firm hand, he pushed the door open, as the smell of mead reached her nose and the warmth of the hearth sept through her clothes, urging her to step inside. "The Chief was actually looking for you."

It was, of course, a lively spot – people were drinking, feasting, roaring with laughter; others were drowning their sorrow in booze, others had already passed out on the table… it was quite the scenery. Arte'mys had never really been to such a huge tavern before; they did have one back home, but it was mostly tame and any riots that ever happened in there involved her, more or less, so there was never anything new happening that she hadn't experienced first-hand; the best night was probably when she challenged Yevrian to a drinking contest. Unsurprisingly, she lost, because he managed to keep his appearance intact while the tidiness in her speech and gestures visibly decreased; but, as soon as they placed foot outside, he collapsed into a mumbling mess, trying to cover his face, blazing like a festive bonfire late after midnight. Needless to say, she had to drag him home as he slouched with little consciousness against her shoulder. The best part was tying him and pulling him up from a tree, having to push his ass to slide him through the opening of a window so they wouldn't be noticed. He confirmed it as the most embarrassing night of his life, giving Arte'mys great satisfaction in knowing that she had been the cause, even if nobody else had been lucky enough to witness the unrivalled finesse of drunk Yevrian who couldn't string two syllables and clung to her like a lost cub.

A particularly noisy group seemed to have gathered in the northwest corner; from afar, she could definitely spot another elf of her kind, which completely brightened her face. Eyes browsing through the foreign identities, she noticed the horned fighter with ease. Beaming, she was led towards them by Krem, who exchanged nods of understanding and thanks with the Qunari. Upon request, Lavellan took a seat, feeling her heartbeats increase. Krem was probably the one she was most comfortable with, out of all the brave men and women that made up Bull's company. Not only was their leader intimidating; they were very much reflecting the same confidence and battle-scarred aesthetic as him, adding more layers to her nervousness.

"Ah, good – we're not drinking alone!" Bull announced, bringing the ensemble's attention over to her, before humorously side-greeting his second-in-command. "How you doin', Krem-de-la-crème?" "Lady Lavellan, I am so glad he has someone new to hit with that joke." Collective humming ensued. "Lady Lavellan?" "Friendly terms there, hmm?"

Arte'mys felt her face flush, but she tried to remain presentable and not allow the idle banter to strike her. "It's not that bad. My Dalish mates said I only use daggers because I would 'Arte'mys' every shot with a bow." The crowd sighed in varying degrees of exasperation. "Maker's balls, that's terrible." "Make it stop." It was heart-warming to see that they were welcoming her into the group and interacting with her, even if she was a little awkward at first. Her shoulders rolled into a small shrug as she glanced between Bull and Krem. "They would probably come up with worse places to go with 'Cremisius.'" Twirling the cup in his hand, the latter shook his head. "So can the Chief, believe me: he loves his nicknames." That almost caused offence; the Qunari followed up quickly. "Hey – when I was growing up, my name was just this series of numbers. We all give each-other nicknames under the Qun." The Inquisitor was impressed at the honestly of Bull's words. He seemed proud to have explained that, and it was obvious by the expressions of his crew that he had probably mentioned it on more than one other occasion before. Cremisius didn't give up. The backtalk game was up and running. "They ever wear shirts under the Qun, Chief? Or do they just run around, binding their breasts like that?" The belittlement was humorous to the company's guest, so much that she ended up looking sideways and pretending to wipe excess sweet mead from her lips to cover up her snickering. "It's a harness, Krem." The slow, even pace at which Bull replied was killing her. It wouldn't be long before her subdued giggles would be heard. "Yes… for your pillow-y man-bosoms. Let me know if you need any help binding. You could really chisel something out of that overstuffed look." It was a good comeback, which Arte'mys signalled to Krem by nudging his side, shaking her head as tears of laughter sparkled in the corners of her eyes. Before the savagery of their chatter could unfold any further, she decided to intervene. Getting to know the other members was why she had sat by their side, after all; and it would make her more at ease if she knew a little about them. "So, your company…?"

The leader tilted his head in approval, one strong arm resting on his knee, the other gesturing towards his men. "Here's the rest of the Chargers: or, what's left of the rest. A lot of them went looking for stronger drinks." He proceeded in naming every one of the unfamiliar faces, included the Dalish woman she had spotted earlier, who, subsequently, happened to bear that exact nickname. "Crazy bunch of assholes, but they're mine", the Bull concluded, almost affectionately.

"You left your clan, Dalish?" Arte'mys hesitated a little, causing unnecessary offense that she had strived to avoid. "Too many mages." "It was a blunt response. Lavellan couldn't fathom leaving her whole life for such a silly reason, but she did know it was a real thing that happened in clans that weren't as open or accepting as hers. The Dalish didn't have Templars, and they couldn't handle too many mages in one bunch. "Oh… I see." "You're daddy's girl, then? Sworn to the Lavellan?" Simply poking fun and a fully-intentional insult intertwined within her question. The older elf clicked her tongue at the outsider disapprovingly. Ah, there it was. Often, the homeless Dalish would taunt the ones who lived with their clan, as much as the Dalish generally taunted city elves for living under subjugation. "Forever. I would never leave. I'm here to give my life for them, if I must." She would never feel ashamed to talk about her people, or shamed to be loyal to them until her last day would come. They were her drive.

"There's a certain charm in this 'fiercely loyal to your people' speech" Krem mused, half-heartedly serious, half simply taunting. "Except for the Chief. If there's any charm about him, I sure as hell haven't seen any." That earned chuckles of agreement. "I'm very charming. You Vints just can't see for shit." Even if it was a strong retort, even for Bull, it didn't cause any harm. The two of them had their own turf of playful disrespect. In the end, it was still the estranged Tevinter who had the last say. "Keep telling that to yourself, Chief."

She was enjoying herself, from what he could see. Iron Bull watched Arte'mys for a while, who seemed to have slipped out of the high and mighty suit of the Inquisitor and simply reverted back to the quirky Dalish girl he met back in Storm Coast, who tried to hold the weight of the entire world onto her slender shoulders without letting it bend her away from her own ideals. He felt content, to see her getting along with his Chargers. It was natural she would first put her sympathies in Krem – he was more approachable than all of them. He presented his whole team to her, yet he still knew very little about her. They shed blood and sweat side by side during battle, and kept each-other company for a while back at Haven, but he never really got under her skin. He knew what went on in her head, and still, he wanted to see more of her, rather than deduce from psycho-analysing the Ben-Hassrath shit out of her. Only now, a few days after arriving in Skyhold, was she starting to let loose and really let them in. She was probably put off by the whole waging war and saving the world thing, but now she had accepted it, and wanted to make the best of it. The assault on Haven changed her… it changed everything. Strange girl. What are you doing, so far away from home? His thoughts were cut short, soon hearing nothing but the Charger's chant, spreading humour and fervour between the tavern's walls.

"No one can beat the Chargers, 'cause we'll hit you where it hurts. Unless you know a tavern with loose cards and looser skirts! For every bloody battlefield, we'll gladly raise a cup. No matter what tomorrow holds, our horns be pointing up!"

Lavellan hummed along, a little off-key, shaking her head with a faint laugh as she comprehended the lyrics. Bull leaned forward, so she could hear him over the unanimous chanting, his grave voice lowered, his usually piercing gaze much more tender than she was used to seeing." Thanks for coming by, boss. Glad you could meet some of my team." Krem might've been wrong… the Bull definitely had a rugged charm that glossed perfectly over his asymmetrical smile. In hindsight, she was glad to have consumed three cups of mild alcohol, so that they served as an excuse for her steadily reddening face. "I'm glad I could spend time with you" she replied, much too quickly, not fully processing what had ran past her brain. "With—with The Chargers" she added, completely lacking any resemblance of smoothness. The Bull only have a heartfelt laugh in return, resting a heavy arm on her shoulder. "You do good work, Inquisitor. I'm proud my boys and I are here." Her strained expression softened. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light. "It wouldn't be the same without you."