Wintersend part 21

Josephine felt completely in her element. She was flashing about Skyhold, trying to be everywhere at once and almost succeeding.

A few days earlier a message had arrived, carried by a bird. It was a joyous message; after its long journey the bird probably felt less so, though it looked as unperturbed and as cool as permafrost. It was, anyway, at once as pleased as a cat in a birdhouse when it was presented with a simple fish. Josephine herself had provided for the, that morning fresh caught, trout and had patted the bird on the head affectionately, all the while babbling happily about what a wondrous bird it was and how perky it moved about and how shiny its feathers where, till the beast got the impression it was, if fact, a lapdog. And content with it.

Adamant Fortress was taken and the Inquisition had, as the ambassador already had hoped for and even had anticipated, been successful. And, to make it even more wonderful, without any casualties to speak of. If this didn't call for a celebration, nothing would. So she had immediately sent out couriers to Val Royeaux to purchase the ingredients for a mind-shattering Wintersend party she couldn't obtain here at Skyhold. They mostly included fireworks, fine wines and some specific herbs and spices, needed for the drinks and exquisite canapés she had in mind. She expected a cartload of sparkling cider at any moment now.

The kitchen staff, in the meantime, had learned to fear her twirling appearance that only brought about a new number of outlandish orders. Although, on the other hand, the cook had picked up the ambassador's infectious enthusiasm and couldn't stop musing about even more spectacular new recipes. She had gone as far as sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to try out some sudden idea for a completely different pork-and-onion pie. With sweet paprika and a generous dollop of garlic. Garlic! Not months earlier she'd never thought that Orlesian eccentricity would rub off.

And between ordering fancy stuff from Orlais and pestering the kitchen, Josephine harassed Cabot, the bartender of the Herald's Rest, to decorate the tavern, and egged on the soldiers who had stayed behind, to do the same with the rest of the fortress. She had driven people into the mountains to find the hazel boughs she needed to garnish the rooms and garden with. And yet everyone was willing to forgive her, if only for the merry twinkle in her eyes and her infectious cheery laugh.

Every now and again, when she needed a breather and a moment to put her mind at rest, she went to the stables and climbed to the space where Blackwall had his private quarters. Then she allowed herself a little time, to inspect the bouquet of dried flowers on the pillow, to smell the faint scent of his body that still lingered in the blanket, to hear the echo of his voice that still seemed to reverberate along the rafters when she closed her eyes.

Until, with a little sigh, she suddenly blinked to drive back the unwanted tears of longing and at the same time she smiled at the prospect of his return – and his surprise at discovering the dried crocuses.

She counted the days. As did the whole of the castle.

To his surprise the Iron Bull found Dorian standing outside the room in which he had helped Leliana forget about her trepidations for a few precious hours this afternoon. Although "standing" was a bad description for how the mage leant seemingly leisurely (and extremely elegantly, Bull couldn't help noticing), against the wall, with his arms folded and his head cocked just that little askew to make the Qunari come more than to attention.

'I thought we had agreed on a marriage arrangement,' Dorian said, his voice as casual as his posture. But Bull wasn't fooled; he was very well aware of the tension the other male radiated, right through that flippantly uttered comment.

'We did?' He tried to sound light-hearted, although the words spoken in the Fade flew back at him to hit him with the force of a sledge hammer. He frowned. Had Dorian meant it seriously..? That couldn't be. Could it..? In that case he had promised him to go to Minrathous to announce to the noble Magister Halward Pavus he was set on marrying his son. Offering a box of chocolates the man apparently detested along the way. He cringed inwardly.

At the same time he couldn't deny that Dorian, pouting and all, looked more than alluring at this very moment. The afternoon sun caressed his supple muscles and accentuated his well-built body. His deep brown eyes, glistening with discontent, pulled strongly at the strings of his heart. And he might favour redheads, at this moment the shining black of Dorian's hair was so much more appealing. Absentmindedly he blew out some air.

'Yes, we did,' Dorian carried on with that deep caramel voice that at this sudden weighty moment sounded wounded. 'So I can only describe what you did with the Spymaster, whatever it was you did with the Spymaster, as adultery.' His eyes flashed, as if to underline he very well knew what had transpired. And of course he did. Bull was quite certain that Dorian only tried to make clear he just didn't know about the details. Which weren't that important anyway. And though normally the Bull would boast proudly about his exploits, always in the best possible taste, of course, and without naming the persons concerned, he suddenly fell silent.

Under other circumstances he would, what with his Qunari upbringing, considered Dorians words ridiculous emotions. Without doubt he would have burst into a fit of contemptuous laughter. But not now. Now, somehow, something held him back. He was stupefied the Tevinter mage really did sound and look hurt, but even more stupefied at how his own conscience reacted. He ignored it… at least he tried to. Sadly to no avail. With his blatantly spoken words Dorian offered him an escape and he grabbed it with both hands. 'If you have to guess at what went on – '

'I don't have to guess because I'm an extremely erudite and sophisticated man, as you should very well appreciate,' Dorian cut him short. 'I only tried to keep it civilised.'

With a click the Bull shut his massive jaw and remorselessly his conscience took the opportunity to make more amok in his head. Without any embarrassment it started grumbling about guilt concerning the hours of shameless pleasure he just had had. That was crazy. Even more crazy were the feelings that suddenly reared all of their wicked heads and not only surprised him but, worse, left him totally confused. Not for one second he had believed Dorian had been serious back then. Because, honestly, when was the man ever serious? And not for one other precious second would he have thought he would really develop something like romantic feellings for the man lounging devilishly stylishly against a wall opposite of him. He wanted to gobble him up.

'I thought you meant it as a joke,' he thus said lamely. But then he restored his typical laid-back-and-be cool attitude. That is to say, he gave it a good shot but failed gloriously in the end. He attempted to look down along his impressive nose at the Tevinter mage who was visibly not daunted by that weak attitude. Nevertheless he added, against his better judgement, 'And I do hope you know we Qunari don't do marriage arrangements? You've fought us long enough to at least pick up some peculiar and significant things about our customs.'

Dorian stepped away from the wall and nodded thoughtfully. 'You have a point,' he said, 'one that I can understand.' He sent the Bull a bright but at the same time brittle smile and that brought the Qunari even more off balance. 'We Dorians don't take to marriage arrangement either. But, unlike Qunari, we can occasionally become rather possessive. Perhaps I should have made my intentions more clear.'

Before Bull could react, Dorian had made his move. His hands cupped his face while his fingers lovingly traced the scar of the wound that had claimed his left eye and his lips determinedly descended upon his in a not to misunderstand way.

'I want you,' he murmured huskily, 'and that has nothing to do with my father. It has all to do with you, you big idiot.'

'Be careful what you wish for,' Bull managed to grumble.

'I know perfectly well what I wish for,' Dorian replied in a hoarse, sultry voice before he crashed his lips again on the Qunari's. 'I like danger.' It was no less than a declaration of love. Or, at least, it was close to it. Or something like it.

It didn't happen often the Bull felt completely helpless, but now he did. All the pictures of sultry redheads evaporated when he felt Dorian's tongue slipping into his mouth and entangling with his. He couldn't suppress a lustful moan. His hands started roaming Dorian's lean body. Even the thought of having all those near to perfection honed muscles close at hand made him tremendously – ha!- horny. And, a little voice at the background of his mind whispered, his as sharply honed clever mind is even more a turn-on.

'Would you prefer me bound and leashed?'

'I'd buy you dinner first.'

'Hopefully before you sow my mouth shut.'

'Depends on how much you keep yapping.'

He couldn't help thinking back at that particular idiotic banter while Dorian kept on kissing him and his hands explored the skin of his back. At this very moment Bull wished for Dorian's tongue to make more of those witty remarks while he, at the same time, fervently wanted that he'd carry on with his heated actions. He moaned some more. Deeper and louder. Gods, this felt good. He felt good. Perfect, even. Without thinking he lifted Dorian and, while he kept on kissing him, he stumbled backwards into the room, holding him as tight as possible. Behind his back Dorian had the spirit to kick the door shut.

'Sweetmeats,' Bull grumbled, with a sudden flash remembering the other thing with which Dorian wanted to annoy his father. It was a stupid remark, he knew, but he was so bewildered that he was willing to try anything to get a solid foothold to reality before his sanity would definitely make a leap out of the window. And he wanted to offer Dorian a last way out. Does he really want this or is this his father shouting all through his brain? were his last thoughts before Dorian made an end to his doubts.

'Not now,' the mage groaned heatedly. 'And I told you already this has nothing to do with my father, you big-headed, big-horned Qunari.'

Right. Time to take matters into hand. Literally.

'I hope you're not too attached to your fancy silk underwear,' the Bull rumbled, just before he shredded Dorian's smallclothes to pieces and got a firm hold on his satisfactorily hard cock.

'Not at all,' groaned Dorian. 'Just keep this up,' were his last words before he forgot all about eloquence, and speech, for that matter, and he got lost in the Bull's fiery passion.

Without a clear purpose Evelyn wandered around Adamant Fortress. The place seemed to be wrapped in a flurry of people running aimlessly about, while, in fact, the soldiers, commanders and quartermasters were busy with a neat retreat. The, at first sight, chaos was, at second observation, perfectly orchestrated and she felt useless. For once there was nothing she could undertake since this was definitely not her area of expertise.

Once or twice she bumped into Cullen, which was rather awkward because neither of them knew what to say or how to react. So they just nodded stiffly at each other, nervously crammed their fists in their pockets and went about their own business, admittedly with their hearts racing uneasily fast.

In the end she decided to pay Hawke a visit. She craved for a good chat, one that wouldn't make her feel guilty or angry, or angsty, and she still hadn't had the opportunity to properly talk with her. Well, she thought, grab your chance. How many do you think you'll get? In an instant she felt a lot better, while she headed for the place where Hawke and her lover, (and she couldn't avoid a little snivel of jealousy at the word and the feelings it brought about), had taken their retreat.

She found her and Fenris, and Anders for that matter, in a room in what must be a half forgotten corner of the stronghold. Apparently they had taken the task of keeping Anders out of sight very seriously. Hawke was almost finished packing; She was trying, with all her muscles and sinews strained to the limit, to close the last pack while putting all her strength onto a too small belt and a clasp that probably wouldn't hold. Fenris sat on the bed, pretending not to notice his lover's agony (because knowing better than to interfere). He was seemingly putting all his attention in honing his sword. In the meanwhile, however, he kept an eye on Anders, who sat fidgeting with his fingers on a low stool. The elf seemed to be prepared to react immediately, should a sudden burst of fire or lighting would erupt out of said fingers. Thus far that hadn't been necessary.

Evelyn came right to the point. 'How did you cope with it?' she asked brusquely, after they had exchanged greetings.

Hawke looked up from the pack she was trying to close, a little confused. 'Cope with what?'

Evelyn made a helpless gesture that included Fenris, Anders, the fortress and probably the whole of Thedas.

Hawke suppressed a grin. 'You're referring at your little tiff with Cullen, aren't you?'

'That too,' Evelyn confessed with a sigh, 'but that's not the only thing bothering me.'

Fenris calmly stored the whetstone in one of the pouches of his belt. He stood from the bed and sheathed his sword in the scabbard on his back. He understood faster than his lover did what the problem was. 'I'll go talk to Cullen,' he announced.

'You don't have to do that,' Evelyn protested.

'Yes I have,' the elf said calmly but determinedly, 'because everyone is walking on eggs around the two of you, afraid one wrong word will cause an explosion. The situation is already as worrying as it is; we can do without more lethal eruptions.' He smiled wryly. 'Starting a good fight is easy enough. Ending one though ... that takes skill and experience.'

'I take it you know all about it,' said Evelyn, more snappish than she intended to.

The elf cast a short glance at his lover. 'You could say that.' The look in his silvery green eyes acquired a near mischievous twinkle while at the same time his little crooked smile became warm and loving.

The Herald of Andraste felt herself change colour as if she were a green, timid mageling that had stumbled upon something she wasn't supposed to see. 'I'm sorry,' she mumbled, 'I didn't mean to offend you.'

'You didn't,' Fenris assured her while he passed her on his way out of the room.

Hawke mused, almost dreamily, 'Oh, we had some good fights back in the day.' She turned to Anders. 'They mostly revolved around you, come to think about it. Around your pompous declarations, your Manifesto, your mere existence. Because I was the idiot who defended you. But I gather you knew all the way.'

'I'm flattered,' Anders reacted flatly. He was bored to shreds after sitting in this room for half a day and a whole sleepless night, and at the same time scared as hell about what was going to happen with him. Hence the sleepless night. Nevertheless he conjured up a half grin.

Marian turned back to Evelyn. 'The good part, naturally, is how the fight ends. I suppose I don't have to draw you a picture?' Her twinkle shot right through mischievous into roguish.

Anders started a spluttered protest. 'Spare me the details, woman!'

Evelyn cleared her throat. 'Well, obviously the row with Cullen is bothering me, but, frankly, I've been dying to ask how you managed to be the Champion of Kirkwall. Without going mental.'

'Ah.' Marian looked pensively ahead. She let out a small sigh while she walked to the entrance and leaned against the doorpost. 'Hmm. I think I got it easier. To begin, no one called me holy. I'm quite positive I couldn't have stomached that.'

Evelyn made a face. 'I don't like it either,' she said, almost apologetically.

'And yet you take it with admirable grace. I suspect I would have started whacking people around the ears till they'd see sense.'

'Trust me, I've been tempted more than once,' Evelyn grimaced. ´It´s disturbing to see how keen people are on worshipping and it doesn't matter who or what. I swear, if I were a capering, bad smelling retarded monkey, they would still want to fall on their knees before me! As a matter of fact, I met a bunch of dimwits who actually worshipped the breach in the sky!´

Hawke had to laugh at that. She became serious again immediately after. 'People are afraid,' she said mildly, 'so they're willing to believe anything, just to grasp a splinter of hope.' She stared into the distance pensively. 'After the attack of the Qunari, and everything that it brought about, it seemed every citizen was so afraid some bad things would happen once more, they almost literally hung at my skirts.'

Anders snorted. 'As if you ever wore any.'

'Shush Anders, the adults are talking now. You know, the ones that actually try to solve the mess without murdering people. Your mess, come to think about it.'

'I've explained that's not exactly accurate and besides that I couldn't foresee the returning of
Corypheus and– '

Angrily Hawke turned around, ignoring his last, rather legitimate, words. She wasn't in the mood and probably never would be. 'You blew up a building full of innocent victims. That's more than accurate to me,' she spat venomously.

Anders cringed. 'You know I regret that more than I can express.'

Hawke rolled her eyes. 'Yes, Anders, I know. But that won't bring the dead back, will it?!' She moaned and rubbed her face. 'Just,' she made an impotent gesture, ' just be a good boy, will you, and keep your mouth shut. I'm trying to have a conversation here, one that's not about you. Because, and this will astound you, not everything is about you.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Anders said meekly and Hawke repeated the rolling of the eyes.

'Since Justice has taken his leave I really don't know how to deal with you anymore,' she murmured. She gave the Inquisitor a bright but fragile smile. 'Where were we? Ah yes, The demanding subjects.' She laughed when she saw Evelyn's flabbergasted expression. 'Forgive me the phrase but sometimes it simply felt that way. How they plainly refused to think for themselves and were expecting you would make all of their problems go away by simply waving your hand. Even Knight-Commander Meredith relied on me to deal with a delicate crisis of runaway mages.' She shook her head. 'Of course she just used me. But on the other hand I couldn't blame her; everybody else did.'

Anders snorted as silent as possible at the memory of the Knight-Commander who had had the audacity of ordering the Champion, a well-known mage for crying out loud, to go after escaped mages who just yearned for freedom. Till he remembered two of them had turned, in fact, into sorry blood mages. Yes, undoubtedly that had been due to Meredith's reign of horror but there would never be an excuse for killing one's own wife. He made a face. It was still hard to separate Justice's words and dangerous ideology from his own thoughts. He still expected at any moment some heated rant and, frankly, it was quite hard to think for himself. To remember the person he had once been.

Evelyn simply reflected out loud, 'And yet you survived without getting crazy.'

Hawke shrugged her shoulders. 'I had a whole bunch of faithful friends who kept me on the right path. Without them I would have lost it.' She bowed her head. 'Especially after my mother – died,' she said softly. She looked up again and removed an invisible speck of dust from her sleeve. 'But as I recall, you have some good friends as well. One you even borrowed from me. He's great, isn't he?'

'Yes,' Evelyn admitted wholeheartedly, 'Varric is great. He often makes me laugh when I feel miserable. It's a talent, I presume.' She grinned at the image of his beaming face, most of the time covered with stubbles.

'I know what you mean.' Hawke let her eyes linger on Evelyn's suddenly more cheerful face. 'Never underestimate the importance of good friends, Inquisitor. They can be life-saviours in more than one way.'

'Please don't call me Inquisitor,' the Inquisitor pleaded.

The former Champion of Kirkwall flashed her a brief but intense smile. 'I just wanted your full attention. I know how to hate a title. But you get saddled with it and you can only try to make the best of it.' She tapped her lightly on her wrist. 'Friends, Evelyn, that's what really counts.' She thought for a moment. 'And lovers, of course.' She saw the other woman's face flush in an interesting shade of pink and suppressed a chortle. So this was how Isabela felt when she launched one of her numerous inappropriate remarks. And those were so much more saucy ... But, she reminded herself, Evelyn Trevelyan was a mage who was brought up and educated in a Circle. It was a sheer wonder she so easily had hooked up with Cullen. 'Keep in mind Fenris and I have a, eh, history. Undoubtedly Varric made you read his Champion of Kirkwall story..?'

She observed the other woman's face that radiated an even more exciting mixture of colours by now. 'Ehm, yes, I did.'

'So, ' Hawke went relentlessly on, 'you know that a lover's tiff ends in a, how to put it ... heated way.' She stifled a grin.

Anders just sighed, as inaudible as possible.

Evelyn cleared her throat and smiled briefly. She looked away and started to chew on a knuckle. And then she blurted, 'I thought he understood me.' She looked pleadingly at Hawke.

Marian looked at her, looked right through her train of thoughts and then, bluntly, started quite a speech.

'Ah, yes. As I thought Fenris did, years ago, before I had to face his deep fears and sudden returning memories that scared him beyond bearing and made him leave me in the middle of a night I thought was perfect. And then I had to kill a Magister who had held him in his claws for the most of his life and even then he only with much reluctance came back to me. Not because he didn't love me, understand, but because he was battered and bruised and scarred with his history and had severe problems with trust, although he did his utmost to trust me. And he was afraid to disappoint me to boot. I had to learn to cope with that. He had to cope with learning I perhaps didn't understand everything he had had to undergo, but was willing to understand.' She smiled as if lost in a dream.

'He came to me when my mother was gone. He declared he didn't know what to say but wanted to be there for me. He just sat next to me. He was there for me. It was the most beautiful thing he could have done for me. That's what counted. It was a heroic deed, especially with the knowledge of his background.' She cocked her head and added, quietly, 'And he wasn't even aware of how much that meant to me at that moment.' Her heart still swelled at the memory.

Evelyn's heart wasn't about to swell. Not with tenderness at least. Yes, she had read the book and, yes she had been moved. By the woman Varric had made his heroine. But now she felt hurt and annoyed. Hawke was too perfect, too good to be true. As was Fenris. How could she ever understand her?! How could she ever match her?!

'That's all fine for you to say,' she piped up in a shrill voice, swallowing back angry tears, 'but you and Fenris have already sorted it out.' She made a wild gesture with her arm, almost smacking Hawke in the face, and involuntarily aiming wildly at the scenery of the eye-blistering too bright blue sky and the mind-numbing hot sand that surrounded the fortress. Tears were gathering in her eyes. Irritably she bit them back. 'He didn't throw into your face that personal wasn't the same as important.' She almost collapsed at the memory. 'I bet Fenris wouldn't have been there for you when your mother died if he had been of the same thought,' she added ruthlessly.

She could hear Anders stifle an upcoming giggle and it made her livid. And then, before she could erupt, she felt Hawke's hand upon her arm.

Marian, after she had swallowed back a harsh reaction to Evelyn's tactless outburst, suddenly realised that her praise of Fenris hadn't helped the other woman; rather the opposite. It had been a silly thing to do; it had undoubtedly only made her think the relationship between her and Cullen would never be perfect. Or, at least, as perfect as it could get, as with all relationships. Abruptly she felt uncomfortably old, but, alas, not wise. 'Don't think Fenris and I didn't have our peculiar fights, you know we did. You read all about it. We still do, now and again, by the way.'

Evelyn looked doubtful and Marian searched for words which would make her understand.

'Keep in mind Cullen was once a Templar,' she tried. 'Has been for a very important part of his life. That is telling on him, don't forget that. Even more important, Varric told me he greatly suffered, back then during the Blight, in the Fereldan Circle. When the place was in an uproar and he was caught in a magical prison.' She looked intensely at her. 'You knew?'

Evelyn straightened her back but couldn't help feeling her bastion of anger crumble down. 'I knew.' She chew her lip. 'He told me.' Her face fell.

Hawke saw her eyes droop and gently took her hand. She decided to drop the topic of Cullen's predicament, she was certain the message had hit home. She changed tack. 'Share a glass of wine with me.'

Evelyn followed her further into the room, and plopped down on a wooden stool, her mood swerving between anger, defiance, capitulation and guilt.

'I wanted him to be my save haven,' she said softly, 'to be the one I could be with to forget about the "Inquisitor" and "Herald of Andraste" nonsense for a short time. To be myself.' She clenched her jaw. 'And then he started to blather about that nonsense himself and to top it he yelled I should survive because I was the only one who could seal the rifts. Not the one who held his heart.' She took a hasty gulp of wine to hide the sudden tears. ' And I felt so utterly alone,' she added. She took another gulp. 'You were there. You heard him.' With all her might she stopped herself from sobbing. 'That's what I am to him: a green spot to close rifts.'

Hawke tapped her arm friendly and topped up the glass in her hand. Evelyn emptied it in one go.

'Sounds like Fenris,' muttered Anders.

'You, big boy, you still let the green-eyed monster talk,' Hawke chided him mildly. She wasn't surprised he beamed back and she shook her head. 'You men, all the same. All pestering us women with your stupid feeble problems to keep us awake at night.'

'And you wouldn't have it any other way,' Anders beamed.

Hawke glared daggers at him. 'Don't push your luck, mage,' she growled.

Anders dived back into his shadow. 'I wouldn't dare,' he murmured.

With an exhale of breath, Marian turned to Evelyn. 'Right,' she said brightly, while she poured herself a glass of wine before the contents of the bottle would have vanished down the Inquisitor's throat, 'how much do you imagine I thought Fenris was busying himself with his own trepidations when he left me for his memories and the fear of that creepy magister?'

Evelyn, completely taken offhand, hesitated. 'Is this some kind of test?'

Hawke looked up from her glass of wine and smiled. 'You could call it that. You have suffered, he has suffered, I have suffered. Perhaps he more than you. Or me than him or the other the other way around. That´s not important. What is important is that you try to understand each other.'

She tried to keep a sweet smile. It was hard. 'I'm so fed up with fights and rows and falling apart.' She shot Evelyn a tired look. 'Right now Fenris is trying to repair the damage you have done. And with you I mean the both of you. To try to let you speak to each other again, while I think, they're both adults and educated And well thinking people. They'll manage. They can sort it out for themselves. But Fenris is the caring type and if there's one thing he can't stand, it's a fight.' She sniffed lightly and for a moment let her thoughts go adrift. 'He can't cope with falling apart. For someone so eloquent and sophisticated you'd think he'd like a good debate. But he just craves for peace and quiet.'

She shot the Inquisitor a rather cheeky grin. 'Yes, I´ve heard the words and the accusations, and, yes, I can imagine you´re upset. On the other hand,' and at those words she gave the rather befuddled Inquisitor a little nudge, 'please, lady, act your age. While my own man is, at this very moment, trying to solve your row, you could give him a hand.'

And at that moment, and not even out of the blue, Evelyn realised she had been behaving like a spoiled tit. She turned to Hawke and took a deep breath. She gave her a resolute smile. She drowned her glass, dropped the vessel, embraced Hawke warmly, waved at Anders in his self-inflicted dark shadow, and fled the room. 'Thank you,' she left behind.

They both stared after her.

'That was a nasty thing to say,' remarked Anders from his obscure corner.

'What was?' Hawke asked, a little irritably.

'That she should act her own age.'

'Perhaps it was.' She blew out some air. 'I like her, I really do. But I'm tired and sick of it all. To be honest, I just want to go home but I have an anxious foreboding that home has to wait for some while yet.'

'Home is where the heart is,' Anders declaimed pompously.

'Oh shut up, you daft idiot.' But Hawke couldn't help smiling.