9:29 Dragon, Winter
Autumn had finished its retreat behind the clouds, cooling the earth to an unpalatable temperature. For the next five months, there would be nothing but overcast skies and nondescript days with the occasional downpour. This mid-morning was no different as Samantha sighed out the window, watching the naked trees twist in agony towards the sky, searching for light, searching for warmth, searching for hope. She could relate.
Her mother and Lady Garrity were seated on similar seats to hers: bright green cushions with pale pink pillows, all arranged strategically around a short, round table that had been carefully set. The centerpiece was a tall, curvy teapot that reflected the world around her like a warped mirror. There were small forks and spoons laid next to tiny, finely crafted teacups, so thin and delicate that Samantha had worried about crushing hers in her fingers. Around the centerpiece stood several trays; a mound of small maple-glazed ham sandwiches on thin black bread that had been cut into palm-sized circles, pears that had been carved to look like roses and dusted with cinnamon, and finally individually cut square yellow cakes with a layer of puffy cream in the center cut so small that some of them had begun to lean. Samantha had eaten sparingly as her mother had instructed: a lady only eats what she can fit in her palm.
It seemed ridiculous to Samantha that her mother would have ordered all this food to be prepared only for the ladies to nibble on the smallest pieces of each. She wondered where the rest of it went when they were done. Did they throw it away? Did the servants eat it? – no, wait, her mother would never allow that. Innley wasn't here anymore to wake her at midnight to raid the kitchen stores. She imagined all this pretty food ending up in a pile of garbage somewhere. Rotting away. The thought made Samantha's stomach bottom out with hunger, and she was dying to reach for another sandwich but nevertheless remained still.
She caught a small elven girl out of the corner of her eye, silently gliding across the room. Her tiny feet barely touched the multi-colored rug, and even with a shining and likely heavy sterling silver tray on her palm, she moved with such ease that Samantha wondered why the elves weren't tasked with entertaining. Such lithe creatures, full of grace – well, most of them – with eyes like jewels and legs as long as tree branches. She had heard about some elven ballet dancers in Orlais, but those were only rumors. The elven girl set down a tray of round little mounds of smooth chocolate truffles dusted with some red powder. She glanced at the two women who eyed the tray seriously only to look away to their teacups. They were so ridiculous!
"This is lovely setting," Lady Garrity announced, brushing her fingers over the delicate lace napkins embroidered with tiny flowers. She then lifted up a small spoon, one meant only for stirring tea. "I recognize the work of Starkhaven's seamstresses, but whoever works in your kitchens must be a closely guarded secret. I have never tasted lemon cakes such as these! So moist!"
Lady Garrity was a beautiful woman. She was taller than most, with a round face and smooth skin like a mushroom, but what was most striking about her was her hair. It was the color of the sun-touched gold, and on this dreary morning, it flowed down her back, decorated with several lavish floral combs holding it back from her face. She was Ander, obviously, with sky blue eyes that conveyed a depth that wasn't there. Samantha thought she wore too much jewelry; aside from the combs, she had a ring on nearly every finger, bracelets that lined her wrists, gaudy necklaces, and earrings that stretched her lobes. She was so pretty – she didn't need all of that... but, she reminded herself, of course Lady Garrity wasn't trying to look beautiful with all that jewelry – she was trying to look rich.
"Thank you." Lady Mayweather smiled gently. "Gustavo is a rare find. We will be hosting a gathering here in the spring, and then you will see his hors d'oeuvres. He makes the most amazing éclairs. They are so tiny, they fit on the tip of your finger!"
"That will be a party to look forward to. One of the few, I am sure." Lady Garrity let her gaze saunter over to Samantha, who remained silent. "Will the occasion be to… make a formal announcement?"
She was referring to the location and date of the wedding – always the last decisions to be made. It was tradition in Starkhaven to throw a party whenever a small detail about a wedding had been arranged. The Mayweathers had thrown five in two and a half years; one each for the choice of caterer (some young and trendy chef who called his food infusions), florist (the Duchess liked calla lilies imported from Antiva, of course), seamstress (a snooty man from Orlais who insisted Samantha lose ten pounds), music (a trio of harpists), and an artist (an Antivan woman whose artwork was said to capture inner music, whatever that was) to paint portraits of the wedding party.
Lady Mayweather reached over, barely placing her palm on top of her daughter's. "Don't let her silence fool you, Verona. My Samantha is as ecstatic as a bride could be."
Samantha turned to Lady Garrity and offered a dead-eyed smile. Though she was greatly anticipating her marriage, it wasn't for the parties. Mostly, once she was married and moved into the royal palace, she wouldn't have to endure mid-morning tea with her mother's shallow friends. Although she supposed she hadn't quite considered the thought of mid-morning tea with the Duchess: that lazy accent and slow manner of speaking was agonizing even in short conversations. Still, at least today, it seemed like a preferable alternative. But most of all, she couldn't bring herself to show her excitement in front of her mother.
Samantha glanced at the woman, sitting tall and proper, with half-lidded eyes as she sipped her tea, perfectly content to fuss over the shape of the crab cakes, the exact color of the bells, the length of the ribbons – all of which brought her immense joy that Samantha refused to share in. No, she would punish her mother by withdrawing, because Innley wasn't here to remind her of that hollow place in her chest where a heart should be.
Lady Garrity let out a small sigh. "If only Benjamin were so settled – and at such a young age! But he insists on chasing around that Antivan girl. I am certain she is just a passing distraction."
"Little girls like that usually are," Lady Mayweather reassured her. "Don't worry. Benjamin will grow up as all boys do, and his attention will turn to a true young lady, poised and full of grace and wit."
"Oh, your words soothe me so!"
Samantha directed her gaze back out the window. These two would likely go on for hours until lunch was served, a meal at which they would stare longingly and eat only crumbs. She wondered how long she would have to endure their gushing about their perfect lives and their perfect children and the tea and the silverware and the floral arrangements before Samantha could get away?
"I had hoped he would take an interest in his other friend, the lovely Flora Harimann. But with her family of late…" Lady Garrity shook her head sadly.
Samantha heard them, but didn't move.
"It's such a shame, is it not?" Her mother set her teacup in its saucer. "They were such a good family."
"I really feel for the girl, because she is an innocent in this." Lady Garrity sipped her tea, with her brows raised as if in thought. "One can only hope that her mother's reputation does not stain the entire family's name. They have been in Starkhaven for generations. Since…" She paused, her teacup inches from its saucer. "The Blessed Age at least."
"'Tis truly a tragedy," Lady Mayweather agreed.
"I heard that the prince has asked her to leave."
Samantha's mother gasped dramatically. "No!"
"I'm afraid so." Lady Garrity sounded so apologetic. "My Benjamin would have considered her, too."
Samantha actually hadn't breathed in almost a minute, and she imagined her cheeks were turning pink. This was news to her. Flora's mother had been asked to leave Starkhaven? Exiled? Like Sebastian?
"Oh, excuse me!" Lady Garrity was now breathless as she looked over Samantha. "My apologies, my dear. I know that you count young Flora among your friendships."
Her mother looked to her and cocked a carefully shaped eyebrow, and Samantha knew she should say something.
She turned dutifully back to Lady Garrity, the strings of the puppet firmly in her mother's hands. "Flora is a strong girl. She will survive with her reputation intact – do not doubt it."
"I admire your conviction, young one." Lady Garrity gave her a condescending smile. "But one does not simply survive scandal. One must come out on the other end unscathed. Stronger. More respected. It takes more than apologies and politeness…" She then gave Samantha a lingering look before redirecting her gaze back to her tea.
Lady Garrity was referencing the incident of supposed debauchery at the fountain of Andraste over six years ago! Such audacity nearly grew Samantha's esteem for the woman.
Samantha turned slightly on her cushion, facing both of them, and no longer caring what her mother desired for this morning. "Well, it is a shame about poor Flora's circumstance, but I wouldn't let that worry you about Benji's matrimonial future. He may favor Arianna now, and yes, she is beautiful and vivacious, but she will never win his heart since Garrity men don't marry for love."
Lady Garrity's mouth dropped open.
Her mother's eyes widened for a moment, but only just. It was just like the Harimanns' party for Ruxton, when her mother had ignored her question about Innley.
Lady Mayweather looked over to Lady Garrity and spoke so calmly when she said: "Benjamin will choose a fine girl when the time is right. Just as the Marquess did when he chose my darling Samantha. She is so very excited about her upcoming wedding that she has barely had time to consider anything else."
The way Lady Garrity relaxed, as though Samantha had said nothing, as though her mother had erased everything she had said and replaced Samantha's words with her own, ignited a fire of fury under her skin. She stood abruptly. "Excuse me." She curtsied, turned, and marched through the room, determined to appear insulted.
Lady Garrity looked positively confused but her mother remained calm.
As Samantha left the room, she heard her mother say: "Wait until you see the floral arrangements for my darling Samantha's wedding. The Duchess has the most exquisite taste!"
She knew she would get into trouble later, and perhaps her mother would tell her father, but she didn't care. Lady Garrity couldn't see past stature to the end of her own nose. Such a snob! But her words still echoed through Samantha's mind. The things she had said about Lady Harimann, about Flora, and about their family name…
She walked faster than a lady should through her own home, turning the corner into the front room and nearly crashing into a tall male servant who was carrying a stack of table linens. He fumbled for an apology in terror, only relaxing after Samantha assured him that it was her blunder. She threw open the closet doors and fished through for her coat, finding it smashed between two of her mother's thick furs. Shrugging it onto her shoulders, she exited her estate into the dreary mid-morning.
Flora's estate wasn't that far away, but the chill in the air turned to dread in Samantha's stomach. With each step she took down the empty street, she wondered what would await her at her friend's doorstep.
A young human boy in white answered the door, bowing deeply before ushering her inside and taking her coat. Another boy appeared out of nowhere, offering her a warm cup of spiced apple cider. This was common in Granite Circle at this time of year.
"I am here to see Flora," Samantha said, warming her fingers around yet another tiny porcelain cup.
The boy clicked his heels as he acknowledged her request, and then disappeared, leaving Samantha in the Harimanns' foyer, which was larger than most of the confessions rooms at the chantry. While she waited, she looked up at the grand painting of Lord and Lady Harimann that decorated the largest wall, the one adjacent to the sitting room. Even in likeness, Lady Harimann looked cold. For her posture, she might have been alone in the picture, yet Lord Harimann stood at her side, nearly behind her, as she stared out from the silver frame with a serious expression that looked almost like menace.
Flora's feet dotted each step of the staircase in haste, her skirt bouncing from her knees. When she reached the foyer, she wrapped her arms around Samantha's neck in surprise, nearly spilling the cider in the process.
"Sammie! I didn't realize we had plans! I must have forgotten."
"No, no, Flora." Samantha set the cup down on a nearby table, small and draped with a thin lace covering. "I have come unbidden."
Flora smiled, but she looked tired. "Then to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure? Are you here to escape your royal engagement? I can't go anywhere in this town without hearing about it."
"Me neither." Samantha laughed. "You would think there was nothing else going on in Starkhaven. But that's not why I'm here…"
Flora held Samantha's hands. "Then pray tell."
Samantha hesitated. "May we… go somewhere private?"
Her friend's look was almost sinister in its naughtiness, as if she expected Samantha to divulge some beguiling gossip. With a breathy whisper, she said: "I'll get my coat!"
The pair ended up in the Harimanns' gardens, more vast than the gardens of Samantha's estate yet just as colorless. Only when they had created enough distance from anyone's ear did Samantha speak.
"Lady Garrity was at my home this morning having tea with my mother." Her voice turned sour when she spoke of Lady Mayweather. "They spoke of you. Of your family…"
Flora's face remained still, as unreadable as the Tevinter language.
"She said things about your mother…" Samantha suddenly felt emotional, thinking of her best friend and confidante, the only person who kept her grounded besides Corbinian. "Flora… please tell me you aren't leaving Starkhaven."
Flora's eyes filled with tears almost immediately, but she blinked them back just as quickly. "I… I don't know what will happen."
Samantha couldn't believe it. She had wanted her friend to refute the rumors, but Flora remained passive. Her friend finally glanced over at her, and that was all it took for the girl's usually tough exterior to melt away.
Flora let out a long sigh, and they paused in the garden, staring at each other for a long while before Samantha grasped Flora's coat. "You can't leave."
Flora blinked hard. "Don't make me cry, damn you."
"What has happened?"
Flora huffed loudly, looking entirely uncomfortable, and she glanced back at her estate before she led Samantha further into the garden, the dead and dying flora of the world punctuating the melancholy of their namesake. "It started with the Council and the estate and the expansion. It's turned into… a mess. My parents are talking about moving to Kirkwall. Permanently."
Samantha let out a small noise. "When were you going to tell me?"
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to! I was hoping all this would go away! But it seems like things are getting worse. My parents fight all the time now. Ruxton is… never around. Brett, too. My mother keeps trying to talk me into…" She turned pale for a moment. "Considering Goran Vael. I can't even describe to you how adamant she has been."
"Doesn't she consider your wishes? Your reputation?"
"She says that's all she considers. Sometimes I think she's mad. She gets this look in her eyes, and I can't… It's hard to describe."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean… I can't argue with her. I try, but… I don't know, I turn stupid or something." She shook her head slightly, perhaps to push away the aggravation she clearly felt. "I wish I could describe it. But I will never consider Goran Vael. Yech." Flora stuck out her tongue in disgust.
"Goran isn't that bad," Samantha said, though she wasn't so sure. "Regardless, your mother shouldn't be pushing a match that you don't approve of. I mean, what's the point?"
Flora glanced around the garden again, the rose bushes empty and thorny just behind her. "Promise me that what I'm about to tell you will not leave your lips ever."
Samantha stood up tall, her eyes wide with curiosity. "I promise."
"Last night," Flora began, "I heard my parents arguing. It was the worst argument I'd ever heard. It was about our estate in Kirkwall. You know that she's travelled there five times already this year, which is quite the expense."
Samantha nodded.
"They've been sinking so much money into the expansion of the Kirkwall estate that… I heard my father say that our holdings might need to be mortgaged."
"What?" Samantha brought her fingers to her mouth – such financial extensions were only for the truly desperate.
Flora's entire body tensed when she made Samantha promise: "You can't tell a soul that I said that."
"I won't." Samantha insisted, somewhat annoyed at her friend's lack of trust.
Flora relaxed, but only a little. "My father suggested putting a halt on the construction in Kirkwall, but Mother… she became irate. I've never heard her so shrill, so out of control. I heard crashes and…" Flora paused for a long time, her eyes flashing with things that she seemed considered saying, but didn't. "This morning… there was a very different scene…" Flora then seemed frightened – the unflappable Flora Harimann, frightened! "Mother and Father were calm. Breaking their fast while making plans to travel to Kirkwall. They plan to bring me, Ruxton, and Brett and his wife – all of us with them."
"Were they still fighting?" Samantha asked.
"No!" Flora's face crumbled. "They were so calm! Amenable, even!"
Samantha felt confused. "Isn't that a good thing?"
"You didn't see… My father…" Flora had to catch her breath. "He seemed…" She brought her hands to her eyes to hide the tears and shaking her head as she whimpered out the words: "I don't want to go!"
Samantha didn't know what to say. This was odd, indeed. Normally Flora would be very interested in travelling to Kirkwall, as Sebastian was there, though she had never really worked up the nerve to spend any meaningful time with him. Somehow the situation had changed.
She had come to the Harimann estate afraid, hoping that Flora would give her reassurance, but now she was the one searching for words of comfort.
"Perhaps your father just lost the debate. He is not an eloquent man," Samantha said gently as Flora sniffled. Lord Harimann's affection was clear while Lady Harimann's feelings were kept to herself. She had never been one to show sentiment in public.
"But he could hardly argue!" Flora's watery words came out feckless. "His voice… his eyes…"
Samantha watched her friend feverishly try to hide her despair. She briefly wondered what it would be like to witness her own parents' arguments, if they had any. Had her parents been expert in hiding their own disagreements about Innley over the years? To Samantha, they seemed a united front of heartlessness, but she wanted so badly for there to be something behind it. Was she only seeing what she wanted? Was there more? Was there more to Flora's family that she wasn't letting show? Her own father's stern severity was in stark contrast to Lord Harimann's malleability.
"Sammie, I'm afraid if we leave, we'll never come back."
"But your estate here is much nicer than the one in Kirkwall!" It was the first thought that popped into her head, as simple as that was, but she meant to imply something deeper. "I just mean that your mother is… well, she's sort of obsessed with status."
"I know," Flora said quietly.
"Is it… because of her meeting with the prince?" Samantha was starting to feel afraid.
"So the rumors are out, then," she lamented.
Samantha was shocked that she hadn't heard this from her best friend first. That she had to hear it from Lady Garrity, ambushed at tea. "It's true?"
Flora nodded slowly, sniffling back emotion. "They were… warned, I think. I overheard my mother say that she and the prince came to an understanding about their respective positions."
Samantha could only imagine what that really meant; likely Lady Harimann had overstepped her title. She tried to imagine Starkhaven without Flora Harimann, and came up with a sea of grey, just like the clouds overhead: a stretch of endlessly empty days where each flower that bloomed wilted just as quickly.
"It seems ridiculous that you would move so far away permanently."
"I know…" Flora sighed again, swaying a little like she needed to sit down. "But I think she's trying to leave before being asked to leave."
"How do you know?"
Flora shrugged. "Just a feeling."
"She didn't say so last night?"
"She probably didn't want to. It's embarrassing…" Flora certainly seemed embarrassed. "My father has lived his whole life here, his family has kept an estate here for centuries. To be asked to leave, to be warned even, is such a shame! If anyone knew… Well, that would be reason enough to go."
Samantha opened her mouth to keep going, but quickly snapped it shut, understanding that she wasn't actually helping. Slowly, her thoughts began to wrap around the truth: that Flora was leaving Starkhaven. That Ruxton was, too. All the Harimanns. That they may never return.
Samantha wanted to be gentle, be smart and clever, to make her friend look up from her hands, to smile again and speak like she wasn't holding back. "You're always traveling to Kirkwall anyway. Maybe now you'll just travel here instead."
"Kirkwall isn't Starkhaven," Flora said sullenly.
"Can't be that bad."
"You've never been."
"Then I suppose I'll just have to visit."
Flora seemed to halt her despair for the briefest of moments. "What?"
"Beenie and I will just have to make the trip, I guess. I mean, I doubt Kirkwall will impress me much. It borders Ferelden, after all."
Flora actually let out a small laugh. "There's an entire sea between them!"
"Not big enough, I hear."
"It's not all bad…" That sounded like a concession or perhaps an admittance that even Flora herself didn't fully believe. "I mean, as long as you stay out of Lowtown. And Darktown. And the alienage. And the Gallows… Okay, as long as you only stay in Hightown…" She paused a moment before she said, "I guess that's it."
"Hightown," Samantha repeated. "Sounds classy."
Flora laughed more brightly, bringing her hands to her eyes. "Oh, Sammie. I'm going to miss you."
"Oh, I'll write!" She reached for her friend's hands. "Or better yet I'll have servants write for me! And you'll be near you-know-who…!"
"You mean Sebastian."
"No, I meant Viscount Dumar. I hear he's gorgeous!"
Flora groaned in her misery, but also laughed. "Ugh! Maker! Well, I suppose he's attractive in a bruised-peach kind of way."
The pair shared a hearty laugh at that. Samantha linked her arm through her friend's. "Let's take a walk. Granite Circle is always quiet on overcast days like this. We shouldn't run into anyone."
Flora smiled and nodded, at last showing relief. She held Samantha's arm a little closer than usual, and they spoke of all the things that Flora wouldn't miss, like Goran Vael and all of his awkward advances, Francesca's sermons which were all the same, Starkhaven's general snobbery which the nobles of Kirkwall didn't display to such a degree, but mostly, the romanticism of starting anew.
"Just think of all those you can impress with stories no one has ever heard!" Samantha declared, masking her own sadness. "No one will have heard the story about that time Ruxton put shrimp in Lady Fortney's hair – you remember, when she wore that ridiculous hairpiece with all those squirrels?"
"She never did notice!" Flora giggled herself silly, taking a moment to recover. "What about that time that Beenie took his mother's feathered shawl – the one with ostrich plumes – and placed it on the statue of Andraste, and Francesca didn't notice until after service was over?"
Samantha laughed so hard her cheeks felt sore. "Or that time Sebastian set fire to the barns just so we could get out of service?"
"I remember that! I remember how we escaped through the north gate, and made it all the way to the edge of the swamps. And then we were all too chicken to go in."
Samantha laughed heartily, but when they reached the fountain of Andraste, they both quieted down. Settling on an adjacent bench, they surveyed the location of their last true act of wildness; an act that Lady Garrity had referenced only an hour ago. Six years had passed since Corbinian splashed around in that fountain with his trousers rolled up, while Sebastian waved his glass around and proclaimed Innley a heretic, Samantha with her wine glass high in the air, and Flora and Ruxton laughing ridiculously on this very bench.
"Everything changed after that night," Flora said softly. "It's like, just when you want everything to stay still, everything moves."
"Nothing ever stays still." Samantha looked up at Andraste.
With her face turned towards the grey sky, Andraste looked to the Maker for answers. That was probably the implication for this particular rendition of the warrior prophetess; her expression solemn as she tilted her chin upwards, her hands together, her shoulders back. Samantha remembered that night the same way she might remember a dream had when she was sick. The images were thick in her head: Sebastian's aggressiveness, Corbinian's departure into unconsciousness, Ruxton's ascot, her own torn dress, Innley dropping the wine bottle, and Flora's hair drooping to her shoulders. Samantha stretched her ankle at the memory of the pain from twisting it. A lifetime ago.
"Is your estate in Kirkwall ready for guests?" Samantha asked, thinking about her visit, and how large a party they might be bringing.
"I don't know." Flora sounded resigned. "My mother's renovations keep expanding. It's a simple enough layout down there, but last year she added a second library, and she just changed the plans again to add another wine cellar. It never ends," she whined. "Promise me you'll visit."
"First chance I get!"
"You won't be locked away in some expensive rental for royalty, will you? I won't need an appointment to see you?"
"For you, Flora, I would send Empress Celine herself away."
Flora cracked a smile. "So considerate… You'll make a great princess-cousin, or whatever it is you will be."
"I think if Beenie's mother has anything to say about it, I'll be knocked up."
"Knocked up with a Vael…" Flora smirked wistfully. "My mother would kill to be your mother."
Samantha wanted to remember this moment just as it was, with Flora pinning her hair behind her ears, even though it never stayed there, and Samantha nudging her playfully in front of the fountain of Andraste. The warrior prophetess looked away to the heavens praying to the Maker to keep them all safe, which was what Samantha hoped for, too. But Flora had been right earlier: just when she wanted everything to stay still, everything moved. Though, perhaps it had been moving all along, just slow enough to go beyond notice. Samantha laid her head on Flora's shoulder and willed her to somehow stay, though she knew Flora would not. Flora would move. Away to some other city just as Samantha would move to the royal palace of Starkhaven, and both would start a new chapter in their lives.
Samantha felt her next chapter would be a happy one, but she had no idea what lay ahead for Flora. Her dearest friend. She had no idea that their paths would converge again someday, opposite sides of a line drawn with loyalty and blood.