Cullen opened the door to the infirmary, illuminating a corner covered with rust colored bandages and flies. Cassandra's litter was propped next to it, the frighteningly large bloodstain standing out sharply against the bleached white of the rest of the cloth. Beneath the blood and elfroot, the smell of freshly put out candles still lingered in the air, and almost every surface bore dripped wax or a candle.
He saw some movement and turned to see Leliana shielding her eyes against the daylight pouring in from behind him. Cullen shut the door, and once his eyes adjusted, he could see Cassandra lying in a cot.
Her face was still purple, but much of the swelling had gone down. Where she wasn't covered in bandages or bruises, Cassandra's normally tan skin was waxen. Cullen could feel the metallic tinge of blood in the back of his throat, something that went deeper than smell alone.
"Good, you're here," Cassandra rasped out in greeting. She was more intelligible than before, but panting with effort. "I only have to do this once."
"How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Like I was mauled by a behemoth. Which I was." Maker's breath, a behemoth! "It was a complete ambush," Cassandra whispered. "They were organized, lying in wait for us."
"Were we betrayed?" Leliana asked. He knew she'd been expecting spies in the ranks, but this would've required more than just a soldier slipping in with other volunteers.
"I don't believe so. It's a— " she began coughing and Leliana held out a potion, gently tipping it into Cassandra's mouth. Once she'd caught her breath, she tried again. "It's a path the Inquisitor is known to take; merchants use it to avoid the soldiers' camp. While it's not a secret, it's not frequently used, so patrols are sparse."
"Which is probably why Cat likes it," he grumbled. If he hadn't been out of his mind with worry, he'd have wanted to strangle her. "I'll see to it that it's changed. The Inquisitor will simply have to deal with acting like the Herald of Andraste for a few more miles." And once she's safely home, we will have another talk about taking idiotic risks.
"There is a place where the path narrows down and offers a blind turn," Cassandra continued. "They took me out first — ran me through with a sword, even astride my horse. I believe it was because I was first in the line, not a specific target."
"That's what Cole had told us," Leliana corroborated.
Cullen gritted his teeth. "When did you question him? And why was I not present?"
"Because Solas thought it would be best for Cole if you weren't there." Leliana replied, turning to face him.
"And why does that apostate get to make those kinds of decisions?" he spat.
"Because I agreed with him." She tilted her head and her hood shifted, cloaking her face in shadow. "I saw how you manhandled Cole, and we needed straight answers. Ones I do not believe we would get if—"
"Enough." Cassandra could hardly yell, but her voice was firm enough to cut through their bickering. "We are without the Inquisitor for one day, and we are already falling apart."
Her sobering comment stopped them both.
The silence hung in the air until Cullen finally asked, "What happened next?"
"I was fighting one of their knights, until a behemoth ran into me. I thought I broke my leg, but they tell me it was my hip." Cullen winced; that was a hard injury to heal, magic only capable of so much. Cassandra was in for a long recovery.
"Once I was neutralized," she continued, "they left me alone and mainly focused on the Inquisitor. Vivienne though…" She paused for a coughing fit that wracked her body and left a speckling of dark red around her lips. Cullen blanched at the sight of it; this was more than just a matter of recovery. If Cassandra was still coughing up blood, then she wasn't out of the woods yet. The healers likely stopped because the strain of magic on her battered body was doing more harm than good.
"She must have realized that they weren't as rough with the Inquisitor. Or maybe they said something about it. I kept losing time. But Vivienne fought until the very end. She was not going to let them leave."
Cullen heart swelled in affection for Vivienne. They may have butted heads once or twice, but they both held a great deal of respect for each other. And now he would be forever beholden to the mage.
"I must have blacked out again, because the next thing I remember was Cole trying to move me. They were marching away with the Inquisitor draped over one of their shoulders. I don't know if they would have returned to make sure I was dead, but I am certain I would not have been found there."
"According to Cole, Cat figured out that they wanted her," Cullen explained with only a hint of bitterness. "She ordered him to stay and protect you."
"Then I am indebted to them both," Cassandra murmurred.
Her body spoke to how hard she had fought to protect the rest of the party, and her very survival spoke to her resilience. Cullen found that his resentment toward Cole had lessened. He couldn't begrudge Cassandra her life — not in the wake of Vivienne's death.
Even though Cassandra was exhausted, Cullen was determined to get answers. "And Caitlin was still alive when they took her?" he pressed.
"Yes, I am certain of it. She looked directly at me and shook her head when she saw that I was trying to go after them."
Cullen shook his head in disbelief. "She just…stopped fighting? Cat doesn't give up. She marched for hours in a blizzard. She thinks dragon hunting is fun! She doesn't just give up!"
"They were Templars, Cullen," Leliana reminded him. "Cole said the behemoth had broken her legs, and her mana was drained. They picked her up and walked off."
Cullen stood there, mouth agape, searching for the right words. The idea of Caitlin simply giving in was preposterous.
Leliana leaned forward pensively onto her forearms, hands clasped in front of her. "The more important question is why now? Corypheus made it clear that he only wanted the Inquisitor dead."
"I could not tell you," Cassandra replied. "But I know she was alive when they left. I know she was." She said it with such vehemence that Leliana reached out to still her, afraid she would do more harm to herself. Cassandra's eyes were growing glassy, unfocused. The potion Leliana had given her must have been working.
"I know. Cole confirmed as much," Leliana reassured her, gently rubbing the small patch of unbandaged skin."Some of our scouts have returned with Vivienne. She'll be given a proper pyre and be honored for her sacrifice." She began tucking the Seeker in, the familiarity reminding Cullen of how long the two women had known each other. "So, you have three days to get well. Any longer and I'll know you're just playing it up for attention — and Vivienne would never forgive you if you didn't come to her final party."
Cassandra gave a dopey grin — a phrase he never thought he would apply to the Seeker — but was asleep before the smile was even fully formed.
They both quietly slipped out of the room as two healers slipped back in.
Cullen began to head for his tower, but Leliana's voice stopped him. "You may wish to visit Josie, Commander."
He cocked a questioning eyebrow. "Oh?"
"Did you really lock up all the nobles last night?" Her self-satisfied smirk reminded him of Mia's when he was about to get into trouble.
Cullen rolled his eyes. "Maker's breath, she wants to lecture me about that? They were out of control."
"For what it's worth, I agree with you." She sounded jaded, disillusioned with the Grand Game and its players. "In fact, after Vivienne's pyre service, I'm going to strongly suggest that the nobles leave."
"You think that's wise?" Cullen hated them, but he knew their influence gave the Inquisition a sense of legitimacy — something they needed now more than ever.
"In terms of our image, no. But we need to keep this as quiet as possible. Spies cannot hide among people who are not here."
"Are there any rumors I should know about?" Cullen wasn't one for gossip, but he knew just how quickly things could worsen if the tales of Cat's death had taken root. The Inquisition was at war with Corypheus, but he wasn't their only enemy.
"So far, they have been mostly nonsense. Actually, I should thank you, Cullen."
"Oh?" He was wary of the amusement in Leliana's voice.
"The nobles are so outraged by your treatment that all of their gossip is about you — specifically."
"Perfect," he groaned, running a hand over his face.
She snickered at his discomfort. "They question everything. Your background… Your qualifications… What the Inquisitor even sees in you."
"I'm glad to have been of use."
Her smirk faded. "It is useful. I know you hate the Game, and this isn't exactly Halamshiral, but shifting their focus from the real problems to you will work in our favor. Their interest in you won't last long — and with Vivienne's funeral, they will think only of themselves and their false grief, not the efforts to recover the Inquisitor."
With a nod toward the keep, they fell in step and began walking toward the Great Hall. "What is being done?" His nap had cut him off from any new information.
"The scouts discovered where the fight took place. They're tracking the Templars as best they can, but they're moving quicker than our scouts can follow. I fear they're heading to Sahrnia."
"Is that a problem? I know we already have a camp there."
"A camp yes, just outside of the town — but Emprise is a base of operations for the Red Templars. They have complete control of the area. They even have a keep there; we needed the Inquisitor to take a small tactical team to recover it. If that's where they are heading, we won't be able to follow right away."
Cullen's brows drew together in confusion. "And why not just take the place by force? Mobilize some troops and lay siege."
"A siege on Suledin Keep would take months, and we don't even know that's where she will be held. I'm sending out my best spies, but I fear it won't be enough."
He rounded on her. "We're not giving up!" he insisted.
"Of course not." Leliana rubbed her eyes, exhaustion creeping into her voice. He wondered if she had slept at all. "I've pulled all of my agents back and sent them in that direction. If they take her out of Emprise, we should know. I'm also trying a few… less conventional tactics. We will get her back, Cullen."
They had reached the Great Hall. Leliana headed back to the rookery with a smug "Good luck!" as he continued on to Josephine's office.
He arrived to find several elves standing around, all looking distinctly uncomfortable. Josephine was sitting behind her desk, staring them down, willing them to leave. If she'd been a mage, they would have likely all been on fire. He couldn't figure out whatever for — they all looked like they wanted to leave.
It was then that he noticed their outfits. Some wore the livery of notable Orlesian houses, but most were in rags; they were the nobles' servants. They must usually stay out of sight because of Cat's strong opinions on elven servants, but with her gone, the nobles must be feeling brave. Not an encouraging sign.
Josephine spotted him through the crowd, and her eyes narrowed meaningfully before turning back to the servants. "You can assure your employers that I will handle this," she said firmly. "But until then, you must continue to listen to those in charge of our safety. Please return to your designated areas."
The group filed out of the office with some grumbling and dragging of feet, unhappy that they wouldn't have more to take back to their employers. Cullen discreetly stepped out of their way, taking a half step down toward the dark cellar. But a few noticed him, and shot him nasty looks; they knew who was responsible for their current misfortune.
Once Josephine closed the door behind the last them, she turned on Cullen and poked his chestplate. "I should have you deal with them. This is your mess after all."
He shook his head, bemused. "Feel free to send any complaining Orlesians my way."
"You would only make matters worse," she scoffed.
She turned her back on him, and he followed her back to her desk. "I can't help that the Orlesians are completely useless."
As she sat down behind her desk, she waved at him dismissively. "You Fereldans and your old prejudices."
Now it was his turn to scoff. "This has nothing to do with the Orlesian occupation. They were on the verge of causing a riot last night and preventing anyone from doing actual work!"
"And you believed that locking them all up in the garden was the best solution?"
"It was all I could do last night. Has Leliana talked to you about removing them from Skyhold?"
"She mentioned it, yes. I don't think it's wise, but I'm not even certain that making them leave will be necessary. Many wish to leave already, offended by their treatment here."
"Encourage that. They should go. Not just because of the risk of spies, but also because we don't know what Corypheus has planned. Now that they have the Inquisitor, we must brace for an attack. We should reduce the number of civilians at Skyhold. I do not wish for a repeat of Haven."
"Nor I," she agreed. "Maybe you're right. We should go into lockdown until we have more information."
"Another point to consider: we will likely be marching on Corypheus. We won't leave Skyhold defenseless, but we won't have a large enough force here to defend a castle full of civilians."
"Very well," she sighed, resigned. "I will kindly ask them to leave after Vivienne's funeral. I doubt we will be able to get any to leave before then."
He nodded in confirmation and began to depart, when Josephine's voice stopped him. "Cullen, how are you holding up?"
"I'm fine," he insisted.
"No, you're not," she said kindly. "None of us are."
He could see the strain the night had taken on her. She had likely gotten more sleep than most, and Josephine was rarely seen with a hair out of place, but still — her eyes were tight, and her voice trembled.
"We will get her back. I won't rest until we do."
"And that's what concerns me. Cullen, you need to take care of yourself. Working yourself to the bone will not help the Inquisition. For now, let Leliana's spies do what must be done while you prepare for the days to come. That means more than just preparing our troops."
"I'm alright, Josephine," he assured her.
"When was the last time you had a proper meal? Or slept in a bed?"
"I know how much I'm needed. I will take care of myself as well." The truth was he hadn't even thought about a meal, and he considered the nap in the library more than sufficient.
"I'll stop fussing," she conceded. "But be aware — I'm not above tattling on you once Caitlin is back safely."
He faked a smile for her benefit. "Andraste save me."
The smile she gave in return seemed more natural, but was half a second too late to be entirely sincere.
"Madame de Fer's pyre service will be in three days. Do you wish your attire sent to your room or Caitlin's?"
There was no teasing in her question. She wasn't making light of his relationship with Cat. It was a legitimate question about where he would like the clothes sent — and yet his gut clenched up in anger as she spoke.
His hand tightened around the pommel of his sword as he searched for words to yell at her. Josephine looked up from her paperwork, reacting to the creaking of his gloves or merely curious about his delay.
Her question had been made lightly, but the watery sheen in her eyes revealed how hard it had been to ask. It kept Cullen from saying the harsh something he knew he would have regretted.
"My tower will be fine," was his stiff reply. He paused, her words finally sinking in. "My attire? When did you have funeral clothes made?"
Josephine swallowed and looked away. "After the events at Redcliffe and Haven, I thought it would be wise to have some commissioned before warning the Empress. I ordered them with our uniforms for Halamshiral. They were meant for a state funeral. I hadn't thought it would be for one of our own…" A tear had managed to fall, but the ambassador leaned back so it didn't land on any of her papers.
He discreetly excused himself, leaving Josephine to her grief.
Cullen startled at a tell-tale creak; someone was climbing his ladder.
"You really should have this fixed!" Dorian said, by way of greeting.
Cullen looked at him, confused. "What are you doing up here, Dorian?"
Dorian huffed. "I've been calling out to you for several minutes. When you didn't reply, I wanted to make sure you were even here."
"Where else would I be?" Cullen turned back to his mirror and basin, determined to tame his hair in time for the funeral.
He could see Dorian's shrug in the tarnished mirror. "You do spend a lot of time in Cat's room, even when she isn't here."
He picked at the knots in his hair. "My tower lets me see when new ravens arrive." That explanation was easier than the truth; Cullen's nightmares were getting worse, and he didn't want the rest of the keep to hear him.
"What do you think of our new uniforms? Slightly better than that red mess, but they're still very… Southern."
Cullen looked down at the sombre grey uniform they both wore. "I would have preferred my armor."
"Yes, well, united front and all that. At least you get to keep your sword." Dorian began wandering restlessly about the room. "You've only just bothered to shave for the first time in days, yet you're spending all this time styling your hair. You preen more than I do, man."
Cullen dragged his comb through the mess. "I'm not styling it; I'm simply trying to make it presentable."
Dorian walked up behind him. "Well no wonder; that comb is practically useless." He was right; the comb was a mess. Several teeth were broken, and others were missing entirely — but Cullen's good one was in Cat's room.
"It's fine," Cullen grumbled, putting the comb down. He took a small bit of cream and dragged it through his curls, forcing them to hold their position throughout the day. While the fresh shave and combed hair didn't dispel the dark circles under his eyes or mask the tremor in his hands, Cullen looked presentable enough.
They both climbed down to Cullen's office, stopping so Cullen could strap on his sword, a concession made to mark Cullen's military position within the Inquisition.
"As your friend, I feel like I should warn you that there is a standing bet about whether you will yell at an Orlesian today."
Cullen shrugged. Once, being the subject of a bet may have offended him; but now the Orlesians had worn on him more than usual, and there had been several near misses. They had switched to all-black attire and their masks were pulled into grotesque mockeries of mourning.
With his sword strapped on, he turned to find Dorian looking through some papers on Cullen's desk. "You planning on doing anything with this?" Dorian asked, holding out a letter.
Cullen didn't need to see it to know what it was; he had been staring at it for the last three days. "I brought it to Leliana's attention, but she doesn't think knowing the Red Templar movements in the Emerald Graves is relevant right now."
"Well, it is rather out of the way. Still, having the position of one of their leaders must be useful."
Cullen gave a tight smile. "Other matters require our focus."
"I suspect that after tomorrow, this will be something that gets discussed further?" Dorian asked with a note of frustration as well.
All eyes were on the Inner Circle, and everyone was feeling the strain. With the Inquisitor missing, they had now become the center of focus, and the tension was palpable.
Thankfully, Josephine had managed to poke and prod and encourage all of their guests to leave after the funeral. For the first time since its rediscovery, Skyhold would be housing the Inquisition alone.
Cullen and Dorian stepped out onto the battlements. The Inquisition's banners, covered with some sheer black cloth for the occasion, were snapping in the wind. Cullen could see the wood for the pyre, set up near their former field infirmary — and he noted that everyone was wisely standing upwind.
The courtyard was almost as bad as Halamshiral. The Orlesians were out in droves, barking orders not only at their own servants but at anyone with pointed ears who happened passed. Cullen stopped short when he heard a barrel-chested man call Sera a "crude little rabbit," as she walked out of earshot; only Dorian's hand on his shoulder kept him from marching up and punching the noble himself.
"It wouldn't be worth the headache you'd cause our poor ambassador," Dorian told him. "Nor the bruised knuckles."
Cullen only relaxed when he saw Blackwall say something that left the man storming off in a huff. He often forgot that the faux Warden had once moved in these circles and knew how to play the Game.
"Come along, Commander," Dorian chirped, gesturing toward the stairs. "We're to stand over here, above all the rabble."
Most of the Inner Circle was already in position. Josephine was running around attending to the myriad of inevitable little emergencies, and Leliana was conversing with Mother Giselle. The Revered Mother was to lead the services along with Grand Enchanter Fiona; though relations between the two women had always been strained, the mage likely knew Vivienne better than Skyhold's other occupants.
Cullen stood next to the Iron Bull.
"Quit fidgeting, you lummox!" Dorian snapped at him.
"Can't say I blame him," Sera remarked. "This stupid costume is stupid, and the stupid Orlesians are stupid, and the whole stupid thing is fucking shite!"
"How delicately put, Sera," Solas remarked dryly, not sparing her a glance. It was the first time Cullen had seen the mage awake in days; every time Cullen passed through the Solarium, he'd found Solas asleep on the settee.
"But it is shite!" she insisted. "Not like they knew her. This is all just a show for them, the latest party to be seen at."
Illustrating the point rather spectacularly, a duchess burst into over-dramatic sobs while several others rushed into to comfort her. He doubted she was someone who knew Vivienne well.
Those who had were the quiet ones, the ones who stayed closest to the pyre. That group was a mixture of more tactfully sombre masks and traditional Circle mage robes. Their tears fell without remark, thoughts all turned inward. Vivienne may have thought this was the proper way things were done, but this was not a service for those actually in mourning.
"She'd hate this," Cullen remarked.
"Who, the Iron Lady?" asked Varric. "This is the sort of thing she lived for. She would've insisted on it — even if she did hate it."
"No, not Vivienne — Caitlin. She has no patience for courtiers and gossip; she wouldn't want to be a figurehead during something like this."
"Dalish funeral services are more personal." Solas' voice was lower and heavier than usual, sounding rough with disuse. "They plant trees, offering new life to replace the life lost."
"Ehh, Cat's alright and all, but her elfy-elf business is weird."
Leliana began walking toward them, and Cullen's eyes roamed the crowd searching for Cassandra; he knew she was being allowed to attend. He visited her when he could, but the assortment of potions she was administered made Cassandra drowsy and limited her visiting hours. He finally spotted her on the other side of the courtyard. In the full daylight she looked even paler, but many of her scrapes and cuts had finally been healed. Still, she required the help of two healers to move at all, and a large orderly corporal was acting as a crutch.
Leliana followed his gaze. "She's only allowed to attend the lighting ceremony; once the pyre is lit, she'll be required to go back to her sick room."
"The Seeker must be bored out of her mind," Varric remarked. "She never struck me as the type to like laying around all day. Maybe I'll head over with my new book once this is over."
"You're not going to the tavern to drink with us?" Bull asked.
"You think I'm braving the crowd after this? That place'll be crawling with nobles. I'm drinking tomorrow."
Josephine came to stand beside Cullen, and it seemed that was the cue for the services to begin.
The service passed in a dull blur for him. Mother Giselle recited several passages of the Chant of Light. Fiona took over at some point and spoke of Vivienne's work with the mages. There was some mention of Duke Bastien's recent passing… But Cullen couldn't recall any actual details, only snippets of time. He only realized the service was coming to a close when the mages lit the pyre with the Grand Enchanter.
"Do you think we should have waited?" Josephine murmured next to him. "Vivienne died trying to protect the Inquisitor. I feel like Caitlin should be here."
"No," Cullen replied, not taking his eyes off of the pyre. "The Inquisitor wouldn't want to be here for this."
They all stood in silence, watching Vivienne burn. The thing was a farce. He felt no sadness or grief — only anger at the perfunctory nature of the whole affair. Given all that he owed Vivienne, she deserved proper funeral, something where people actually mourned her passing.
"I think I might join you for that drink tomorrow, Varric."
Iron Bull nodded."Me, too. Let's send Viv off without all of these assholes."
Varric knocked on Cullen door mid-afternoon. "You still coming, Curly?"
Cullen sighed, dropping the paperwork he was staring at before following the dwarf out the door.
Varric nodded toward the courtyard. "Quite the sight, isn't it?"
Below them was utter chaos. The nobles had decided they were not going to remain in Skyhold for one more day. It was a mass exodus, and Cullen was not sorry to see them go.
His eyes did catch something odd in the chaos. Morrigan and Kiernan had slipped out of a side stairwell and were moving through all of the servants and lords and ladies with long strides and great purpose. Weaving through the crowd, the pair slipped out the front gate and along the path leaving Skyhold. Cullen wasn't especially surprised; Morrigan had made it clear that Caitlin was the only person she trusted in the Inquisition. Cullen made no comment; just continued on with Varric to the pub.
They entered the pub from the ramparts, the silence within the Herald's Rest was downright peaceful compared to the chaos outside.
Cullen noted that Cole was missing from his usual spot; the boy had been avoiding him ever since the night they returned without Cat.
"You coming, Buttercup?" Varric yelled into Sera's room as they passed.
The sound of small bare feet running across the wooden floor was the reply, and Sera joined them a second later.
They found most of the Inner Circle on the main floor, along with several mages. Leliana was probably in the rookery, Cassandra was still confined to bed, and Maker knew what Cole was up to. Solas' was the only absence that Cullen couldn't explain.
Maryden, in her usual spot, started gently plucking out "Empress of Fire" on her lute.
"You ask her to play this, Tiny?" Varric asked, grabbing a seat.
"Yeah, with a few other Orlesian folk songs," Bull told them as they sat down at the bar. "She'd never admit it, but Viv had a soft spot for songs from her adopted homeland."
"How could you know that?" Cullen wondered. He'd never known Vivienne to enter into the pub.
"Every time we were in Val Royeaux, she'd listen to the bards. Even caught her humming after the ball. She denied it, of course."
"The Iron Lady was tough as nails," Varric remarked. "An amazing woman."
Bull raised his glass. "Yeah, she was."
They got their drinks and began swapping stories. "I was going to make her a villain in my next serial," Varric announced. "I thought she'd be offended, but she loved it." He took a drink of his ale. "Started working on it last night; don't think I've ever written that much in my life."
"I was utter shite to her before she left." Sera said, swaying on her stool; she'd been drinking heavily since they sat down, and it was beginning to show.
"Nah," Bull assured her.
"No, I was!" she slurred. "I didn't think she'd go and die."
"Viv liked bickering with you," Bull insisted. "It let her feel like she was back in power. She liked you for that."
"You mean it? She was a bitch, yeah, but I liked that about her! Don't like her thinking I hated her when she died."
Cullen thought back to a conversation he'd had with Cat once. "I think Vivienne knew you respected her."
"What makes you think that, Jackboot?"
"Ca—" He stopped himself from saying her name. "The Inquisitor was nervous about the ball. She's not exactly known for holding back her opinions." Everyone grinned in agreement. "She asked Vivienne for some tips on how to say what she really wanted, without starting a war." He had everyone's attention, which unnerved him, but he kept going. "The Inquisitor asked Vivienne to have a similar conversation with you. Vivienne said something along the lines of, 'let's leave Sera be; she keeps me on my toes.'"
"She said that?" Cullen was shocked to see Sera tearing up.
"Yes, she did." He thought it best to leave out the remark about how Vivienne didn't think she could teach Sera anything.
"She was so angry at the choice I made for Halamshiral," Josephine mused. "She marched into my office, insisting I have everything remade. I explained that it would be impossible to have them ready in time, and that our chosen attire would send a message to the court — that we were a united military power. I'd never seen her so mad. It was like I had ordered her into that plaidweave monstrosity the Inquisitor tried to make her wear."
"Oh, we burned that," Dorian remarked, settling into his seat, "along with the ridiculous hat Caitlin made for me. Such an ugly mess."
"That's where those went... " Cullen joined in. "Caitlin tore her room apart trying to find them. You claimed you had no idea where they went off to."
"The First Enchanter and I vowed to never speak of it again, lest it give Cat the idea to try and remake them."
"Don't know what you nobs are on about. I like it," Sera mumbled, picking at her yellow stockings.
"You know Viv didn't take that whole clothes thing laying down, right?" Bull cut in. "She and the Boss were planning something."
"Oh yes, that," Josephine commented fondly.
"What's this now?" Dorian asked, taking a long pull of the brandy he'd smuggled back into the pub.
"Oh, the Inquisitor rather agreed with Madame de Fer's assessment of our clothing for the Ball. She had imagined something more dazzling, I wager. I believe "pouting" would best describe her reaction to the uniforms. I was reminded of Yvette, trying her best to seem grateful when she was clearly disappointed. Vivienne had Caitlin's measurements sent to her personal tailor, with instructions to make the most beautiful dress. It was green sea silk, with the loveliest silver accents. It is the height of Orlesian fashion, but there are several subversive references to Elven culture hidden in the embroidery; it is truly a work of art." Josephine smiled impishly into her sherry glass.
"After the nightmare of the ball, Vivienne slipped it into the Inquisitor's room. I still remember how she ran through the Great Hall, clutching it tight. She couldn't stop thanking Vivienne. Vivienne promised that she'd host a ball, a proper one, after the war, to make sure the Inquisitor would have a chance to wear it." She sighed morosely. "I'm sorry that she'll never get to see Caitlin in it." Josephine bit back a sob, while Blackwall placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She placed a hand over his and gave it a squeeze back.
"She got me some feathers from Denerim once," Sera spoke up. "Used to fletch my arrows with them. Didn't even say anything about it, but one day she handed them over. Something about how an order got mixed up and she had no use for them. I knew it was bullshit because I went through her mail all the time. She must've ordered them. Innit funny? Don't even know why she did it."
"Vivienne was rather spectacular with her gift giving," Dorian commented. "She always managed to find that one thing you never thought you'd be able to. It's as if she was just collecting favors to trade in. If you weren't so pleased, you'd almost be resentful."
Cullen and several others startled when Cole suddenly spoke up. Cullen hadn't seen the spirit join them; for all he knew, Cole hadn't even been there until he spoke.
"She called me 'Cole,'" the boy whispered. "In the end, she called me 'Cole.' Not 'demon.' She thought, 'Cole needs to protect the Inquisitor.'" He let out a shuddering breath. "She'd never thought of me as Cole before. She was afraid of me, but then she was afraid for me."
The group grew quiet, all thinking about the remarkable life that had been lost.
Cullen heard the tavern door open, breaking the silence. Solas slipped into the pub, making his way around the crowd to stand behind Cullen. The elf leaned down to speak into Cullen's ear. "May I speak with you, Commander? I believe I may have some news regarding the Inquisitor."