Thank you for your patience...

Wintersend part 28

Josephine was getting anxious. It was taking too long for Evelyn and Cullen to make their grand entrance and she wondered what was going on. In the meantime the people around her were having a good time, thankfully. They were merrily singing and dancing, enjoying the titbits and sweetmeats on display galore on the many trestle tables, and drinking ale and sparkling cider, but she feared any moment now the shouted demand for the Inquisitor and the Commander, which could turn out to be a disaster, what with none of them actually present. Had something bad happened?

Please not another devastating row, she pleaded silently. She had heard all the unsavoury details of what had transpired in the Wardens' Fortress from Leliana and she had had great difficulty with talking the "It Was All My Fault" guilt complex out of the Spymaster's head. Despite her tough appearance, Josephine knew Leliana was more vulnerable and insecure than she liked to present herself, but the Ambassador didn't consider it a flaw. On the contrary; she thought it showed Leliana was still a human being, instead of just a callous, calculating Spymaster, offering everything to the success of the Inquisition and of course, though somewhat less nowadays, the Game.

And then she saw the very Spymaster descending the stairs leading from the Great Hall, her face a perfect unreadable mask, her attire, as usual, nondescript so she wouldn't stand out. Nevertheless Josephine thought she looked strained. She pushed her way through the throng to meet her at the foot of the stairs. Without a word Leliana took her arm and led her underneath the staircase to a calm spot where they could talk.

'Trevelyan has been kidnapped,' Leliana hissed without further ado, 'but no one must know yet. I want to avoid a panic-outbreak at any cost.'

Josephine's eyes grew wide and her breath hitched. 'By whom?' she managed.

'We don't know yet. But it's certain that new recruit, that elf Voth, has something to do with it. We're trying to find tracks; all my scouts, that is, the ones here in Skyhold and in the vicinity, are on it.'

'But, but, why?' Josephine tried very hard to get her head round the startling information.

'Because the Inquisition is getting too powerful and we're making certain people nervous? Which people? Your guess is as good as mine.'

'Cullen must be devastated,' Josephine whispered, suddenly very aware of the Commander's deep love for the Inquisitor.

'He is. And blaming himself, of course. But on the whole I must say he's keeping himself admirably well.' She pinched the bridge of her nose with an impatient gesture.

'What are we going to do?' Desperately Josephine tried to remain calm. 'The people will be expecting their Inquisitor to show up any minute now. What are we going to tell them?'

Leliana shot her a short smile that was stripped of all humour. 'Thank the Maker for the former Champion of Kirkwall,' she said. 'She offered to announce the Inquisitor is pregnant and therefore regrettably too sick to attend the Wintersend Party.' She conjured up another bleak smile. 'Undoubtedly her own pregnancy supplied her with this far-fetched declaration. But I suppose it will work.'

'Hawke is expecting?!' Despite the hopeless situation they found themselves in, Josephine couldn't help feeling giddy all of the sudden.

Now, for the first time, Leliana grinned wholeheartedly. 'You should see Varric fussing about her! You'd think he is the father instead of Fenris!' The image of the dwarf, providing Hawke with lots of healthy orange juice while smiling insanely, still made her feel warm. She became serious immediately after. 'This must work, Josy,' she emphasised. 'We have to come out with the truth at some time, but right now, let's, for the Maker's sake, pretend the Inquisitor is indeed pregnant and thus not able to partake in the festivities.'

Again she pinched her brow and Josephine thought she looked as tired as if she had skipped at least three nights of sleep. 'I don't yet know who's behind this but I think the Venatori are a good bet.' She groaned. 'As is Empress Celine, to be honest. And even her nephew, the Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, is a valid candidate.'

Josephine thought vaguely how strange it was that the higher the title the more first names were used. And then reality kicked in. 'We are supposed to attend the Masked Ball at the Winter Palace,' she breathed. 'It took a lot of effort to give us an entrance. Who are we going to delegate now?' She panicked seriously. 'It's about to take place three weeks from now! We were supposed to depart within a couple of days!'

Leliana sent her pained look. 'I suppose the Champion will do, with again the same excuse of pregnancy.' She sighed. 'Oh Josy, I know how hard you worked to get a ticket in for the Inquisition! I'm so sorry!'

Absentmindedly the Ambassador pulled at a string of her hair. She was used to jump from the one situation into the other and to try to find solutions within a heartbeat.

No,' she mused, 'this will turn out fine. The Inquisitor expecting is the perfect reason why she'll be absent. And a charming one too. Who can resist a pregnant woman?' She looked up at Leliana with shining eyes. 'Let the Champion play the role! Let our enemy, the one that abducted the Inquisitor, think we play his game! Let's lure him out of his hole! Let's be arrogant and act as if we know how to dance to his tune. Even more arrogant: that we know how to turn the tune to our own advantage!'

Leliana squeezed her arm. 'Always the optimistic one!' She sighed and stared into the distance. 'But you might be right. In the meantime we will do everything possible to find clues as to where Trevelyan is being held captive.' She looked pleadingly at her. 'Perhaps you could talk to Hawke? Or better even, Fenris? She will be cooperative.' She grinned mirthlessly and took a tired breath. 'He, on the other hand, won't be, I'm afraid. He's the protective one. Do you think you can convince them of the importance of the ball in the Winter Palace?' She frowned deeply. 'I fear he will never let his woman take the risk.'

'Of course he won't,' Josephine smiled. 'I would have been very upset if he would.' She returned the squeeze. 'You know I will persuade him. Don't fret. It will turn out alright.' But while she hastened to where the Champion was at the moment, according to Leliana in the room she had had restored, she didn't feel so sure.

In the same refurbished room on the ramparts, Hawke stood at that exact moment staring at her image in the mirror. Anders had managed, with some help from a pair of scissors, pieces of spare cloth, a seam ripper, a needle and lots of thread, to adjust the extravagant dress so it would fit Marian's extended sizes. Grudgingly she had to admit he'd done a great job.

'I knew your talents were many,' she said mockingly, 'but I'd never have imagined that tailoring was one of them.'

The healer shrugged nonchalantly, disregarding her snide comment on his talents, undoubtedly referring to his knowledge of building magical bombs. 'Since the Circle no longer provided me with an outfit once I had left for Kirkwall, and I, besides, stood permanently on the brink of bankruptcy, I was simply forced to learn needlework.' He grimaced. 'One of the many knacks I had to master to keep my head above water.'

'I suppose your lady friend will be pleased with those qualities,' said Hawke teasingly. 'I'm surprised she isn't around to keep you in check, by the way.' Her expression became impish. 'I'm astonished she doesn't force you to take to your bed,' she stated wickedly, hinting at the obvious.

She was very well aware that Ariana was out to inspect an even more obscure space not far from this one to turn it into a sickroom, though she considered Anders not sick anymore. Then again, she considered also that Ariana was of a totally different meaning, probably with good reasons of her own. The very obvious she had been hinting at, to be precise. To her satisfaction she saw Anders violently change colour.

'She's not my lady friend,' he sputtered.

'No?' Hawke reacted sweetly. 'Time to remedy that, me thinks.'

Subtly Fenris cleared his throat and steered the conversation away from the dangerous cliff it stood now balancing on. 'With all that fabric billowing around you, you show no signs of pregnancy whatsoever,' he remarked, while he looked her up and down critically.

'No. It feels as if I'm carrying some phantom baby for Evelyn,' Hawke groused irritably, absentmindedly rubbing her mid-section where, though swollen lightly, indeed nothing much was to be seen yet, especially not because of Anders's clever adjustments.

Fenris swallowed back a chuckle and instead trod further on the smooth path of diplomacy. 'It was your idea, love, and I thought it a brilliant one too. You'll save the day with it. And, may I add, I still think you look breath-taking in this dress.'

Hawke deflated. 'Let's hope the people will buy it,' she sighed. 'We have enough trouble as it is and the last thing we need is a stampeding crowd of panicking people.' She heaved her head and shot her lover a sneaky smile. 'And don't think I don't know what you're doing.'

Just before all diplomay took a leap out of the window and a mighty quarrel could arise in the "What The Hell Are You Implying" department, the door opened and all looked up to see the Ambassador Josephine make an entrance.

Fenris grunted wholeheartedly when he saw her meek, pleading expression. He was quite certain he was the only one present right now who knew what she was about to ask. And he but just avoided a major row with his pregnant wife with keeping his mouth shut and silently agreeing with the extravagant proposition.

'You hate the idea of going to Halamshiral,' Hawke concluded after the others had taken their leave.

'You don't?' parried Fenris. 'It's a viper's nest, to say the best about it! You're taking a huge risk, venturing there! You're pregnant, for the Maker's sake!'

'I only have to shake hands, do some curtsies here and there and make light conversation,' Hawke muttered grumpily. 'The only risk I'll take is eating a bad canapé or tripping over my feet while dancing. Hopefully they will provide me with a more practical dress than the one I'm wearing right now.' She saw her lover's face, ready to explode and gave in. 'All right! Yes, I know it will be dangerous. But I have you to guard me, haven't I. And then there's the not to be underestimated dedicated bulk of the Bull. That is,' she couldn't help adding, 'as long as he isn't busy with mooning over Dorian and fucking him senseless.' She cocked her head. 'Perhaps it's wiser not to bring the two of them along.

Fenris groaned wholeheartedly. 'You're impossible.'

Marian gave him a sugary smile. 'And you love me for it.'

Fenris opened his mouth, changed his mind the moment after and, to Hawke's delight, kissed her passionately instead.

And once again Solas found himself in the Temple of Ashes, and once again simmering with anger which he, this time, found harder to suppress. Restlessly and with growing agitation he paced to and fro along what had once been the impressive crossing and spacious, breath-taking hall.

The temple had been beautiful, back in the day. A masterpiece of architecture; built, so the legend said, by Havard, a most devoted disciple of Andraste, to create a worthy residence for the ashes of the prophetess. And Solas knew that in this case the legend spoke the truth; he had witnessed the works in progress himself in those days. Afraid for the consequences, should Tevinter ever learn about the location of the ashes, Havard had chosen the most remote place he could find and it had taken centuries and a very remarkable woman to discover the spot. When Elissa Cousland found the Temple, time had done some damage, but even then the building still stood proud in all its splendour.

(Yet another remarkable woman, Solas scoffed in the intimacy of his head, the world seemed rife with them.)

In the years after the discovery, groups of devotees had managed to repair the gaps in the roof to keep the snow from drifting in and to restore some of the crumbling pillars. It had taken only a mere moment for one big explosion to undo all the efforts and return the Temple into a ragged scar, sticking out sickly in the mountains surrounding Haven under the other, more sinister, green scar in the sky.

Solas had returned here not only for the significance of the place, but even more because he was loath to soil the Fade, the first place he normally would take refuge, with the swearwords that in a ceaseless torrent left his mouth. And he desperately needed somewhere to be alone to blow off steam. The Temple was already desecrated by the earlier horrible event, it was impossible to sully it more. So there was no need to hold back in here, especially while "in" was a very relative preposition with all the inflicted damage.

Still, after his initial outbursts, he tried to rein in his tongue for he knew he was being watched and overheard and he didn't grant her the pleasure of gloating over his discomfiture.

Too late, he realised when he heard the swish of cloth over the frozen snow, joined by a soft chuckle that sounded warm in these icy surroundings. Angrily he turned around to face the Dragon Lady. 'I'm getting enough of your meddling,' he hissed venomously. He wished fervently he'd be able to act as aloof as at their last encounter in this very temple, but he was too wound-up right now.

Flemeth raised her brow and shook her head as if she was highly surprised with his angry remark. 'What have I done this time to awake your disgruntlement?' she asked with infuriating innocence.

Solas scowled heavily at her. 'Once more you jeopardise the Inquisition,' he snarled heatedly, 'and this time by whisking away the Inquisitor herself no less!'

Flemeth brought a hand to her heart in a rather dramatic gesture. 'My word!' she cried. 'You still give me too much credit for powers I don't possess!'

'I know very well you possess more powers than you're willing to show or even admit,' the elven mage growled sharply.

'And what, pray, stand I to gain by removing the Inquisitor?' informed Flemeth, still with that maddening calm.

'I don't know,' Solas scoffed caustically, 'most times I can't fathom your intentions. But an educated guess tells me it has something to do with conquering fears.' With a sneer he added, 'I hope your earlier devious plan did succeed. I noticed little of it.'

Flemeth cocked her brow. 'Really? I thought it went rather well.' She took a few swaying steps towards him, her head held high, while looking at him intensely. It was exactly the look that always made him feel ill at ease. 'You know very well that it's extremely difficult to fight the one you're scared of. You're prone to flee or hide or, in the best scenario, fight badly. But now they have experienced the peril. They've heard his voice, faced the threat and have overcome it. The next time they will encounter Corypheus in one of his forms, their fear will be gone and they will battle with vigour. They will stand a much better chance. You should be happy.' Her yellow eyes had lost their mischievous glance and obtained a dangerous glimmer. And this was exactly the look that scared him witless. 'Unless, of course, you're aiming for another result.'

Solas nearly lashed out but just in time found his bearings. He straightened his back and spat, 'Then why do you think I put so much effort in helping the Inquisition reaching its goal!'

Within a blink the mischief was back in Flemeth's eyes when she responded, 'Perhaps because the Lady Inquisitor intrigues you, in more than one way.'

She nearly winked.

Solas nearly growled.

'Or, more plausible, because you need the Inquisition to get your precious Orb back.' This was uttered with a dark undertone.

Solas clenched his jaw because she was inconveniently right. But she should torture him before he would give up. He turned with a haughty sweep and strode to the entrance of the temple.

'It must interest you I've located the Hero of Ferelden.'

Solas turned around so swiftly he almost lost his footing. 'What?!' He caught his breath. 'That's impossible! I've searched long and wide and never was able to find her!'

'That's because you only searched in the lands of the dead,' Flemeth remarked. She smiled confidently. 'Care to hear the story?'

Cullen stood in the middle of Evelyn's private rooms. To his shame he had found out he had severe difficulties with maintaining his self-control; several times over he had stood on the verge of shouting furiously at people whose fault it explicitly not was she got abducted, and a few times he even had crossed that line.

He had survived many crises, some he had even handled well, but he was struggling very hard to cope with this one. And, to his dismay, failing gloriously all along. Never before love had played a significant part in the calamities he had gone through and he found it almost impossible to stay calm and collected. No "personal is not the same as important" this time. He had found out to his own cost that personal certainly was important. Evelyn would have been impressed and very happy, had she known about it.

He screwed his eyes shut and clenched his fists. He tried deep breaths to calm down his racing heart. He missed her so desperately, it hurt literally physically.

Besides that, he was extremely angry with himself. He had failed completely, obviously, in guarding her – or rather, guarding the position of the Inquisitor. He should have known people would want to harm her; he should have taken more and better precautions.

Behind his back he heard someone entering the room and he immediately recognised the soft footfall.

'I'm shocked by my own incompetence,' he choked out without turning around.

'Don't talk such juvenile nonsense,' Leliana replied harshly, 'get yourself together. Trevelyan won't benefit from your self-flagellation. Neither will your troops, nor the people here in Kirkwall, or even Thedas.'

At the same time that she uttered the severe words, she had to admit she felt the urge to embrace him and, to her own astonishment she did exactly that. Cullen answered her firm hug without any comment. They walked onto the balcony where they stared at the impressive mountains surrounding the castle.

Cullen rubbed his face, clean-shaven for the Wintersend party. 'Have your scouts found anything out yet?' He hardly dared hope.

'I came to tell you that all the traces lead to the Emerald Graves,' Leliana replied, against his expectations, cheering him up tremendously. 'I take it you want to be the one in charge of the pursuit?'

Cullen turned sharply at her. 'You bet I am,' he said savagely, extremely relieved he could finally undertake action.

'And don't you fuss about the Masquerade at the Winter Palace,' said Leliana, to put Cullen more at ease, 'Hawke and Fenris will be covering that intriguing task.' She felt sorry she couldn't be present herself – although, one never knew how things would turn out. 'We will be sending the rest of the lot with them.' She smiled faintly. 'I wish I could be able to witness what kind of lasting impression a Qunari and a Tevinter mage will make on the Orlesian Court. Especially as lovers.'

Despite his worries Cullen couldn't help grinning as well. He felt relieved. Finally he could do something.

He tried to be as invisible as possible, which wasn't easy for someone used to getting noticed, strewing orders around and taking, warrantably, what was needed without questions asked. But this mission called for stealth.

He had seen the Inquisitor riding out of the gate of Skyhold, following the enigmatic silent elf called Voth, and some old, military instinct had urged him on to shadow them, silently. He had witnessed how the woman the whole world relied upon, well, at least the part that still was able to think soundly, had been taken captive not five miles from the castle by a bunch of villains who he had, along the way, identified as a group of Venatori. Especially the giant, whose title and name apparently were Commander Duhaime, stood out as a real brute though, up till now, he had not harmed the Inquisitor.

He had, for a few difficult self-conscious moments, considered rushing back to Skyhold but had reasoned he could act more swiftly and furtively on his own, with better results.

They had dragged Evelyn Trevelyan into the Emerald Graves, to the Villa Maurel. He had had, secretly trailing after them, weeks of thinking out an ingenious plan to free her, but there had been no opportune chance to do just that as yet. And now he found himself stumbling upon the problem of how to enter the heavily guarded building without being spotted.

At this very moment, in the middle of the night and thus under the cover of darkness, he was lingering in the bushes, near to the with trellises framed gateway to the actual entrance, when he heard a sudden soft rustle behind his back.

But before he could act, he felt the cold steal of a sharp blade against the exposed skin of his throat.

'I hope for your wellbeing that you're loitering here with good intentions,' a voice hissed in his ear, a woman's voice, he thought. 'Otherwise your life will be very short. Speak!'

He stayed stock-still; the blade felt horrifyingly real and he had the nasty feeling that the hand wielded it was well skilled and, above that, ruthless. 'My name is Blackwall.' He swallowed hard. 'I belong to the Inquisition.'

To his relief the pressure of the blade subsided. 'Well, then I take it you're not here with bad intents after all.'

'I'm trying to find a means to free the Inquisitor!' Blackwall blurted defiantly. 'I witnessed how she was taken prisoner and I followed her this far.' He stuck out his chin, though that action was hard put to make an impression in the pitch-dark of the night surrounding them. 'And who are you and what are you doing in this place?!'

He felt the other person's body sag a little and then move to take a place next to him in his private shrubbery.

'I suppose you have a right to know my name since we're, evidently, in this together. Right. I am Elissa Cousland.'

Blackwall's eyes flew wide in shock.

For quite a time now I've been considering bringing the Hero of Ferelden into this story, since the Inquisition's explanation of her disappearance was both long lasting and unsatisfactory. But, despite that, I'm as surprised as you are. Characters can be so unpredictable.

Anyhow, thanks for reading!