Epilogue: The Myriad of Missives
Letter and coins in hand, Sera bounds up to the rookery, taking the steps two at a time.
"To The Gull and Lantern," she says to Mundare, one of the messengers.
Mundare smiles. "What song did your mistress write about your lover this time?" It's just teasing, so Sera lets her get away with it. And even if Mundare's a little bit serious, so what? People think stupid shite than ain't true all the time.
"The Ox Seals the Breach. Got this great bit where the ox seals the Breach but all this time she's got a hole in her breeches!" Sera blinks. "Aw, shite, ruined the ending. But it's real funny. The Breach farts demons!"
"Still not sure how the Inquisitor is fine with you funding a woman who writes insulting songs about her…." Mundare turns her head to sneeze into the crook of her arm. She's been sneezing away for a week now. Sera reminds herself to ask that gardener elf if she knows any plants that'll kill a stubborn cold.
"Inky thinks they're a laugh." It took Adder a few minutes, though—she frowned at hearing "ox" before admitting it's an easier word to rhyme than Qunari. "She's thinking of having Lilting Leanne play Skyhold."
"The Inquisitor's a forgiving woman," Mundare says, like she doesn't quite believe Sera.
Sera doesn't mention that Adder said Lilting Leanne's invitation will be an "arrest." Everyone'll act like she's going to be executed until she gets to Skyhold's main hall and Adder waves her hand, strikes off her chains, and asks her to play. Bit of payback for the song about Haven.
Adder won't actually do that, of course—too bitchy—but Sera likes when Adder's fantasies get a bit mean. Makes her people.
Sera's halfway down the stairs when a messenger whose name she doesn't know stops her and hands her two letters. He half-bows when he sees her, and Sera sighs. Her skin pinches up right proper. Not like she can know everyone in Skyhold well enough to tell them she's just people. She tries to memorize his face so she can find him again in Skyhold's Shadow, but he's gone before she catches more than the basics of two eyes, a nose and a mouth. She'll ask around, find out who the new guy is.
She looks over the letters. The first letter she picks is addressed to "Red Jenny at Skyhold."
Not sure if you remember me. Ardley Hambledon from the Hinterlands. Thanks for the donation. Not sure if this letter will reach you. Sometimes meeting you seems a fever dream. But the blankets and food we have are real enuf.
Sera grins. Not every day she gets to hear how she's helped people beyond rumour. Time was, she'd just move on, assuming whatever she did worked.
I've not forgot your offer. If you get this letter, would you send something to Dusklight as proof you meant what you said? A red handkerchief or sumthing. Not posh. Tween my man and my babes, I can't travel as light as I once did.
Maybe I'll see you in spring.
Sera's wearing a red tunic today; she rips a piece off. She grabs a letter, scribbles "To Ardley Hambledon of Dusklight" then hands it to Mundare, who's blinking at Sera like she's just done something weird. "Got something else for your birds."
"Ah...right," Mundare murmurs, coughing.
The second letter is addressed to Sera. It reads, I survived the Joining. I'm a true Grey Warden now. More words follow, but Sera can't read anymore. Her happiness hurts. Like eating so much food so your stomach feels like it'll burst.
She runs, taking the stairs three at a time. Hearing Adder's voice nearby, she makes for it.
Adder's at what she calls her book club, which is actually actually her "argue with Dorian" club. They're the only members. There's a second chair in Dorian's alcove, but Adder's not sitting in it. She's holding a book out to Dorian, reading something out to him while he rolls his eyes. An unopened letter sits on Adder's chair. Or Sera guesses it's unopened. If Adder read it, she'd know Blackwall's alive, and how can anyone know that and still argue boring book shite?
Sera skids to a stop in front of them. "Beardy's back." She frowns—not what she meant to say, though she wants to say it so much she aches. Alive but not here is just as bad as maybe-alive, maybe-dead. "I mean, alive. Drank some ogre jizz and got all spoiled good and proper."
Adder's face brightens. Even Dorian smiles—knew it. Secret friends, them two.
"Tainted by darkspawn blood, actually," Adder says.
It doesn't take long for Sera to think of 'taint.' She giggles as she launches herself at Adder, then squeezes her tight. This woman filled her days once Blackwall left three months ago. She baked cookies even though she hates cookies; taught Sera string games she played as a kid; had Leliana's people report to Sera about suppliers for the refugee camps like she was the spymaster, not Leliana. Sera tries to say 'I love you' and 'thank you' in her hug, every muscle rock-hard.
"Not that I know any Grey Warden secrets," Adder adds. "Just an informed guess, really." She ruffles Sera's hair, and Sera has another one of those moments where she feels like this has happened before. But of course this has: Adder loves touching her hair. Weird, for someone who's never grown any in the billions of years Sera's known her.
After a moment, Adder says, "Um, love, I need to breathe…."
"Could hold more breath if you stopped going on. We know you're clever. No need to keep showing off every mo."
"She has to when she's around me," Dorian quips as he sits down in his chair.
Adder rolls her eyes and starts to speak.Always ready for another round of "who can have the last word."
Sera lets Adder go and hugs Dorian, mussing up his hair just so he can bitch at her.
"Well, I'm off to send Weisshaupt an official Inquisitor letter asking for Blackwall to be returned to us," Adder says. "See you later tonight, love."
Sera giggles. "You bet you will. With no pants." Dorian flinches, which only makes Sera start thinking of other sexy things to say.
Her lover stares at Sera, blinking. "That's going to make babysitting rather awkward."
"Baby-what now?"
"The babysitting you volunteered me for months ago?"
"I...oh! Shite." It took Sera a stupidly long time to figure out that, of course, Alriss was never going to tell her if he needed a babysitter. She had to pay attention to chit-chat, but finally she caught wind of Alriss and Piyami wanting a night out to listen to her favourite minstrel at the newest pub in Skyhold's Shadow. "That's tonight, is it? Okay, fine, fine: pants, then."
Then she's off again, moving because she has to. Sera takes the steps three at a time, dodges around some nobles and finds herself bursting into Josephine's office. "Did you get a bird?"
It's obvious that he did by the long letter that she's holding and the tears shining in her eyes as she smiles. "He survived. Andraste be praised."
Sera launches herself at Josephine for a hug.
"I―" she murmurs, startled, then gives her a gentle hug back.
When Sera pulls away, Josephine checks to see if the gold chain around her neck is still there.
Sera laughs. "Catch on quick, Lady Shiny-Bloomers, but it was a real hug this time. It's just...it's grand, isn't it? So grand."
"It is such a relief."
Sera tells everyone she can think of: Dagna, Bernie, Witty Ritts, Jana, Cabot. Not everyone loved Blackwall, but at least they put on a smile for her. She even tells Cole, who says he knew like he's surprised she didn't, and even him reading Blackwall's mind like a book doesn't bother her. He goes back to playing with his kitten, a little orange thing he calls Orange Cat. Adder said he's got some friends coming in soon, a templar and a mage. Sera reminds herself to keep an eye on them—anyone who's barmy enough to call Cole friend deserves a close watch.
The sun gets low in the sky, and Sera and Adder make their way to Skyhold's Shadow.
Being out in the snow makes Sera think about the last time they were out together: hunting the caravanners that scammed refugee camps.
Sera had an idea. Adder made the plan. They set off from Skyhold with Witty Ritts, Cass, Dorian and Iron Bull. Adder made this shipment real grand: blankets and winter clothes made by Avvars, now that she's in with that lot in the Frostback Basin; cider and cocoa all the way from Val Royeaux; even toys for Winter's End.
The Inquisition struck near the Fallow Mire, the caravanners' usual drop-off point. Didn't catch the shit-waffles in the act, but that didn't matter. Sera knew who was who, knew their families, knew where their mansions were. Something a Red Jenny doesn't always get. When she first came to Orlais, she made a hash of a few jobs because she dove in without checking her facts.
"Madame Vegreville?" she called out. "Monsieur Trochu?" The two looked up and faced her arrow, fire burning at its head.
A cry went out from the caravan's guards as they scrambled, unsheathing swords and daggers. Then Adder lowered her hood and cheerfully announced who she was. The guards might as well have been hit with an ice spell. The Bull sighed, all disappointed there wasn't a fight.
The Inquisition tied the Vegreville and Trochu up, pulled down their hoods, and held a lantern close to them. Witty Ritts sketched their faces. Adder did the talking. She explained that, thanks to these sketches, none of them would work in either Ferelden or Orlais anymore. For their crimes, their homes and assets had been seized by the Ferelden crown.
"It's good to be a friend of the king," Adder said as Sera prowled around the two caravanners. "If you want to make a living, you and your families will have to go someplace the Inquisition can forget about you. The Anderfels. Rivain. Tevinter."
It took a few moments for that to sink in. Not too far away, Iron Bull and Cass were grabbing the weapons of the surrendering guards.
"But—but how can we travel with no funds?" sputtered Trochu.
"You'll have to rely on the kindness of strangers." Adder grinned. "Like a refugee, I suppose."
Sera dashed close and snapped her knee up into Trochu's crotch. He was silent for a breath, then he howled and pitched forward. When she needs a laugh, Sera takes that memory out of her brain-drawer and shines it up.
Sera raised an eyebrow at Adder. "We ain't sketching his dangle-bag next, yeah?"
"Mmm, probably not."
Sera kicked Trochu in the arse because they weren't sketching that, either. But the plan wasn't sitting quite right. Her gaze went to the guards. They were gonna be fined and shoved in cells until whenever Adder thought they'd learned their lesson. They didn't get to walk away.
Sera reached behind her. "Inky? Dagger." Her brain scrambled to sort out an answer to the coming question. But there weren't words, just the weight of a pommel in her hand. She grabbed Vegreville's face and cut a "T" into her cheek, then did the same for Trochu. (Later, Adder asked if "T" was for "traitor" and Sera said sure, but at the time she'd just thought it'd be more noticeable than a simple slash.)
"Don't forget those," Sera said to Witty Ritts, who nodded and added those to the sketch.
Sera grins at that memory, too, and not just because of the shrieks of those rich tits. She grins at Adder's knife in her hand, no questions asked, no warning that this might ruin the plan. Trust warming her belly like mulled wine.
Seems being out in the snow make Adder think of something entirely different. "Did you ever figure out what all this was for?"
"Eh?"
"Part of why you joined the Inquisition was to figure out about Andraste and the Maker. Just wondered what you thought about everything."
"What, that? Pssh, said that to sound deep and wise enough for you to shag."
"Really? Little Miss 'Believe For Me, Adder' doesn't have any thoughts about the Maker?"
"Well...sure, but…. Shite, you really care?" At Adder's encouraging nod, Sera continues. "Right. Well, putting on my Sera-of-the-Deep-Thoughts Hat, here's the why of this: Maker needed someone to kick this Corrynit into splatter-dom and chose yourself. Made it so everyone fell at your feet and all. Helped me and you become us. Shite that so many had to die...but we don't live in a world of warm winters and beer rivers, yeah?"
"So the Maker's a noble and we're the little people who do his dirty work?"
A joke. Again. Sera bites back a sigh. She done grand at getting used to me; I gotta return the favour. "Not like that when you're a god! Not the same thing at all. Can't be. Stop chewing stuff over with your brain. Chewing's for the stomach, innit? The gut. Where food's s'posda go. Faith, too."
"You chew with your mouth…."
Sera grabs some snow, squeezes it until it's a snow pellet, and throws it.
Adder sidesteps with a snort. "What are you, twelve?" But she bends down to scoop up a handful of snow.
"Practice for the sprogs, yeah?"
"I—you know, that actually makes sense. Completely by accident, I'm sure."
"So? Best kind of sense's the kind that comes after." She frowns—now Adder's got her nattering. Time to throw some snow.
It's too powdery for a proper snowball fight, but they try. It's more about the snorting and giggles than anything.
"Denerim had grand snow for throwing," Sera comments, startled by a flash of wee-Sera snowball fighting with a harelipped human boy. What was his name?
"Makes sense," Adder says. "It's near the ocean."
Sera has no idea what Adder's on about. "Wasn't all 'shite, I'm hungry' or 'shite, I'm freezing,' way back in ages past. I forget that, sometimes."
Adder relaxes and opens her mouth, but Sera doesn't feel like Storytime from Denerim's Alleys, so she leaps forward and kicks a spray of snow Adder's way.
They finish the fight and finally make it to the house that has Alriss' room in it. He shares it with two other families. Before Adder can knock, Alriss and Piyami, wearing their best, open the door. Seeing their guests, they freeze.
"S—Sera!" Alriss blurts out. "Good eve! And who's—"
"Adder Adaar," Adder says simply, like her name means nothing.
That's clearly what Alriss was afraid of: he gulps, then he and his wife fall to their knees, murmuring, "Inquisitor."
"Alriss and Piyami Sedgewick, I take it?" Adder continues, easy like she's talking to Sera or Dorian. "Sera's told me about you. I'd be happy to watch your son, if you'd like."
Husband and wife share a glance with their heads still down, so they can hide their expressions.
"I have experience with children," Adder says quickly. "When I was just eight, I looked after my baby brother while Mom worked all day during harvest."
Sera startles. Usually, baby brother talk comes out after bottles of hard booze (which probably comes after a mutter from Cole, the prick). Far as Sera knows, she's never given him up so freely. Sera's never even worked up the nerve to ask his name. Maybe she should.
But, later. "C'mon, Al, I promised you some child-minding after my shite custard prank, remember? Time I kept my promise."
"You'd save me from an evening of reading tax reports," Adder continues. "I'm seeing numbers in my sleep."
Another glance between husband and wife. "Brentin is quite a handful, my lady," Piyami hedges.
"Well, why don't I meet him? We can see how he takes to me."
Alriss and Piyami stand and lead her into the main room. A stewpot hangs bubbling over a blazing fire. An old human woman sits on a stool close by, knitting a brown scarf. Six kids, two elves and four humans, play tag, ducking beneath the large dining table, leaping off of wooden chairs. Some are toddlers, some could be six or ten or whatever—Sera's shite at guessing ages. There's a small painting of a chantry at dawn above the wash basin, and potato peels litter the floor.
"I said 'you're it!'" one sprog wails.
"You didn't sodding touch me!"
"Did too!"
"Brentin, over here," Piyami says.
One of the younger elves huffs "Later, ma."
"Brentin," Alriss snaps. Takes a few more tries, but Brentin finally listens. He frowns up at Sera and Adder.
"Who you?" he asks, once he's close enough.
"This is Papa's friend Sera. Brentin, this is the Inquisitor."
The old woman stops her knitting and gasps. "The—the Inquisitor!" She starts to bow, only stopping when Adder says, "Please, there's no need, ma'am."
Brentin isn't so impressed. He eyes his father like Al's joking. Looking up at Adder, he says, "You eyes is funny."
His parents fall dead silent. Adder chuckles.
Piyami sputters, "Brent! She's a Qunari!"
Brentin considers this, and concludes, "You skin is funny."
"They have grey skin!" Alriss says quickly. "I'm so sorry, my lady, he knows better than this—"
"I'd rather the child that asks outright than the adult that stares and whispers," Adder says. "Kids learn better than adults." Does she have a book of shite that sounds clever that reads every night just in case she needs a saying? Adder crouches down to try to get on Brentin's level, but it doesn't work. She still towers over him. "I'm here to look after you for the evening. Would you like that?"
Brentin shrugs. "'Kay."
"There," Sera says. "He don't give two shits." For some reason, Alriss and Piyami flinch. "So go off and have your fun, yeah?"
"Sera, language," Adder snaps.
Hurt blooms. Sera wants to snap 'What's your sodding problem?' until, a moment later, she realizes that Adder isn't trying to change her. Gotta put an act on for the parents.
"What? Gonna learn it somewhere." Not that Sera will make it easy.
"I'll keep her in line," Adder says.
"Well," Alriss says with a smile, "if you can handle Sera, I'm sure Brentin will be a day at the fair." The joke relaxes him and Piyami a touch. They give some instructions, say their goodbyes, and make their way out.
Before they close the door, Sera shouts, "Arse! Prick!" loud as she can. The old woman frowns at her and mutters something under her breath.
"Sera!"
"What? S'funny."
"Brat." She glances at the closed door. "At least they know not to give you attention…."
The kids start playing tag again, but different: the older kids glance at Adder so much that Brentin and the other tots start whining that they're not playing right. This leads to arguments, which leads to pushing, which leads to Adder stepping in and making everyone say their sorries.
Then an elf brat in adorable pigtails says, "Are you really the Inquisitor?", and of course Adder says yes. Adorable Lass asks if Adder was scared when she fought Corypheus, and of course Adder says yes. With a shrug, Adder says, "It had to be done," like killing a magister god monster was nothing. The brats are wide-eyed; they believe her. Sera's held Adder through the nightmares; she knows better. The old woman's listening, too, and if she can see over Adder's walls, she keeps it to herself.
Then Adder has to answer a load of questions as the kids crowd around. Even the old woman scoots a bit closer. Adder sits in one of the chairs at the table to make herself comfortable. Did you really meet elves from Arlathan? Can your green hand explode demons? I heard the Iron Bull cut a Venatori right down the middle and both his halves just went splat on either side and tripped two Shadows that were coming up behind you—is that true?
All questions Sera knows the answer to. She takes out her sketchbook and starts drawing, only half-listening. She hears one of the wee ones start grumbling, but figures her lover can handle it—she'll step in if more than one start up.
Adder's shadow falls over her. Sera glances up. Brentin is sitting on Adder's shoulders. He's peering at her skull, rubbing his hand over a patch of it. Trying to rub the grey off her skin, Sera realizes. Arse. She opens her mouth to tell him off, then shuts it. If it bothered Adder, she would've made him stop.
What Adder sees in the sketchbook makes her snicker. It's only then that Sera thinks about what she's drawing. In the middle of the page, a half-dragon, half-Qunari punches its way out of an egg. On the left, a beaming Adder hands the kid its first dagger, and, on the right, a beaming Sera hands it its first arrow and cookie. There's a discarded nappy at the bottom of the page, with the words "don't need 'em" above.
Sera snaps her sketchbook shut, cheeks burning. She glares Don't say a word.
Adder's fond smirk replies, I won't...for now. Also? You're cute.
Sera shrugs Whatever, then wiggles her fingers around her head to say Loony. She looks at the kids behind Adder.
"Right. Come in close, sprogs. Red Jenny's gonna teach you how to pick a lock."