"So how was your date, milady?" I ask while Lady Evie's taking her midmorning coffee and sweet rolls.

"Date?" She sounds surprised. She's unusually focused on her food today.

"You know, with Commander Adorably Awkward."

"Oh," she says. "It was… nice. But apparently, when people are married to their jobs, and they go out with other people, it feels weird. Like being the 'other woman' or some such Orlesian nonsense."

Now that was odd. Well, I should have suspected something, at least. Two days after Commander Cullen and Lady Evie went to Ferelden, a messenger arrived calling Seeker Cassandra, the Iron Bull, and Sera to Redcliffe. The day after, the Commander returned alone, and it took a while before Lady Evie arrived home with her companions. Since then, I haven't had to take tea and sweet rolls to the Commander's tower during the evenings. But I did have to bake goodies for her companions, with a note of thanks about helping her slay a dragon.

And Lady Evie's starting to eat more than usual. Well, I won't usually worry until she eats an entire Tevinter velvet cake, but since Honnleath she's eaten more and said less. To me, anyway.

"Thanks for the sweet rolls and brewed coffee, Ellie." She stands up and heads out the door. "Won't you be a dear and serve some tea later in the war room, two bells after lunch? I can't possibly talk about Orlesian politics without something robust."

"Arl Grey, then, or cinnamon spice?"

"You decide, Ellie, and have some pastries too," she shouts from the hallway.

Hmm. Yesterday a shipment of cinnamon and apples arrived, and because Lady Evie is special, her kitchen gets the finest pick. Not that the rest of the food is bad—they're not—but I think Skyhold owes a far greater debt to her than food. So might as well use them.

It takes a while, but I manage, and then I arrange the foodstuffs on a cart just in time. The tea has to be kept in an enchanted pot, and the pastries have to be served on very fancy plates, because Ambassador Josephine insists. Well, she doesn't, but she has that look that tells us servants to put everything on pretty plates. So there, all ready to be served to the big bosses of the Inquisition.

"…Winter Palace? I have to do some shopping," I hear Lady Evie's voice.

Wow, those war meetings really got the bosses raising voices, huh? And brings out Lady Evie's most sarcastic. No wonder she has asked for some food to distract her.

"You don't need to shop." That's the Ambassador's voice. "We have tailors for that. But you do need a lady's maid…"

"I don't see how bringing a personal attendant can help Lady Trevelyan stop Corypheus, Ambassador, if it makes her feel that uncomfortable. Our best agents will be joining, as well as her companions." Ser Cullen's voice joins the fray.

"It's not about swords all the time, Commander, it's the Orlesian court. Appearances are paramount. I have thought that with Lady Trevelyan's upbringing, she'd be more open minded about it."

"Josie, this is ridiculous," Lady Evie says.

Okay, enough eavesdropping. I knock, get my permission to enter. I dare not look any of them, and just proceed to put the tea and pastries on a separate table on another part of the room.

"Who told you that you can bring food here, Inquisitor?" the Ambassador asks.

"I don't wanna deal with nobles," Lady Evie answers, as she leaves the war table and heads for the food. She takes a pastry and shoves it in her mouth, uncharacteristically uncouth. I give a slight bow, and head out the door.

"Why can't our spies infiltrate the Palace, take out the assassin, and be done with it, or send a very official letter to them?" she demands. "With my Inquisitorial seal and everything? Tell me, why haven't we succeeded diplomatically or stealthily?"

"We already told you," the Spymaster says in her melodious voice, "someone on the other side is blocking all our efforts."

Whew, that's the first time I've heard Lady Evie so agitated; she usually doesn't even have tea or coffee served during war meetings. And I'm not entirely sure what she'll want later, but it won't hurt to prepare her ultimate comfort food, Tevinter velvet, dyed the deepest of blood red, with cream cheese frosting. I better start baking, the frosting's very tough work.

Later, Lady Evie does not come to my kitchen for her afternoon tea, which is rather surprising. I also hear from the kitchen staff that she has skipped dinner as well, and this has me alarmed. The small frosted cake stands in the middle of the table, proud as any queen, but my lady is not here to enjoy it.

Someone creaks open the door, but I still have to finish washing the last of the kitchen equipment I've used.

"Milady, I heard you haven't had dinner yet," I say, still not turning. "I hope you're in the mood for some Tevinter velvet, I made it especially for you."

"Actually," a distinctly male voice answers, "I'm looking for your mistress. And what's this news about her skipping dinner?"

"Ser Cullen!" I turn and give a small bow. "Lady Evie is not with you, ser?"

"Obviously not," he says with a chuckle. "I was hoping to catch her in her comfort zone. Though now you're here, you might as well know, Ellie. You're coming with us to Halamshiral. She needs a lady's maid, for appearances, as the Ambassador and the Spymaster insist. Evie didn't want one, and as neither parties were willing to stand down, so I offered a compromise. You. As her maid."

"I'm a cook, not a maid, ser." Again, with pointing the obvious.

"We've talked about that," he tells me. "You'll receive instruction from Leliana's people. Besides, some of our agents will also come with us. You're just going to be Evie's, uh, support person."

He takes a look at the kitchen, and spots the cake. "I rather thought she was very fond of those."

"It's not the first time she refused to eat, ser," I say. "When she's terribly upset, she either eats that cake or she doesn't eat at all."

"What do you do, Chef," he asks, losing his boss-voice, "if she doesn't eat what you cook? What happens to the food?"

"The leftovers, ser?" Hmm. How do I answer this? She doesn't often leave food, but when she does, she's polite enough to use a serving utensil to slice the portion she'd eat. And any of her leftovers can go to us servants, if we'd take it. And we often do, because it's too wasteful otherwise.

The Commander sits down at the table, and instinctively I whip out a teacup and pours Lady Evie's nighttime tea for him. He looks so forlorn, I just have to offer him cake.

He takes a bite. My curiosity gets unbearable, so I venture to ask the unaskable—

"Ser, what happened in Honnleath?"

He swallows and stares at the table, much like Lady Evie did during the night she told me about her mother.

"I thought it went rather well," he sighs, "but when I served her croissants with strawberry jam, she became suddenly distant. It was like she saw a ghost. She ate it to be polite, but was cold for the rest of the trip. Later, an agent caught up with us, and told her of some problem near Redcliffe. Something about a dragon terrorizing the Hinterlands. So she summoned her toughest warriors and went there. I'm rather surprised that she didn't tell you of that."

"She did tell me, ser, about the dragon," I answer. "She had a celebratory cake sent to her companions that day. But about your trip? She just said that it's tough to go out with someone married to the job. She said something about feeling like the other woman."

Suddenly, Cole appears at the kitchen.

"Maker!" I gasp.

"Dizzy, world spinning, my lady mother why did you leave me, sweetheart, I don't like strawberry jam, it reminds me of my mamma, where are you? Maker my world is spinning wildly beyond my control, I don't wanna wear corsets and dresses, cake makes me fat but I really like eating. I don't want the leftovers of his heart, like my mother gave me scraps of her time, Maker my world can't stop spinning. She is hurting."

And then he's gone. That… spirit kid is totally weird.

The Commander stands up, a man whose questions have been fully answered. Also a man looking hurt by what he just heard, but determined to find his sweetheart nonetheless.

"Come with me, Chef, I know exactly where Evie is."

I follow him to the tavern, where true enough, Lady Evie is. Head on the table, shoulders slumped, thick black hair all over.

"Hey, Cullen, Cheffie," the Iron Bull greets us. "Apology's in order. That's my fault," he points at Lady Evie. "Didn't know she can't hold her alcohol. We were just celebrating the dragon slaying near Redcliffe. But she got weird, and downed the tankard without talking. She tried to take a second, but that happened. I didn't know what to do."

"It's alright," Ser Cullen answers, "I'll take care of it. Just… make sure that people won't talk about this."

"Sure, boss," the Bull promises.

Ser Cullen takes a very drunk, almost passed-out Lady Evie into his arms. I lead him out the back door, and into the servants' entrance towards her suite in Skyhold, to at least lessen prying eyes. But I know they're there.

"Cullen?" Lady Evie asks, then hiccups, as we reach her suite.

"Shhh, Evie," he whispers, and kisses her forehead. "You'll have my full attention from now on."

I turn away politely, but I could still hear him whispering sweet words as he lays her on her bed.

"Ellie," he calls me in his big Commander voice. "Make sure she doesn't sleep in her armor and boots. Allow her to sleep til midday tomorrow, then give her a lot of water and your strongest coffee. I'll have the war meeting postponed."

I'm just glad that Ser Cullen's here to help whatever's left of Lady Evie by now.


A/N: I'm taking a lot of liberties with the story—it's more fun that way, don't you think? Also, happy Valentines, to those who are inclined to celebrate! :)

I really appreciate the follows, favorites, reviews, and encouraging PMs. A great many thanks to AgapeErosPhilia, Cynder Jenn, JayRain, Loverofallfiction, and the wonderful Facebook group of Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers, from whence came the "Arl Grey" idea. You guys are awesome!