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Helaine
It takes her three readthroughs to spot the code that lingers within the letter in her hands.
Shameful.
More shameful though, is that she had received the letter the previous day, and, having glanced quickly through the content, had put it aside to read later.On the face of it, it is a simple thing. A letter of not-insignificant length, from Cosette, one of the few people she would consider a close friend. A fellow Knight-Enchanter, a fellow graduate of Montsimmard, with whom she had journeyed and fought many times over the years.It speaks of the weather in Northern Orlais close to the border with Nevarra, the local foods she has tried, the small petty problems she is having with one of her comrades. Not a name Helaine recognises, but that is hardly unusual. The comrade she spoke of seems to be a warrior, not a mage. A letter of inanities. Not without precedent. Though she is not as keen a player of the Game as Vivienne is, she is still a little more inclined to chatter. To filling the silence. To telling tales. It had been of some comfort on long dark nights while on assignments together.But it is the last-but-one line that gives her pause.

I look forward to visiting with you when you come to Hunter Fell.

A strange comment, when no such plans exist. When no such plans could exist, given her commitment to the Inquisition, and that she has no business with Cosette’s current assignment.So, she re-reads it. And then again. Details are hidden within the innocuous words. It is not the code they were taught at Montsimmard, the code the Chantry uses, but something she and Cosette had developed together many years before. Something secret and private and yet wholly unmistakable when she pulls on the thread of the words and unravels it.And then the true meaning of the letter comes clear.Help.Help us.Help me.Rising from her chair, her mind is racing. From the date hidden within the words, the letter was sent almost three weeks ago. Unsurprising, given the amount of ground it will have covered on its journey. It will take her far too much time to travel back there herself. But with the Inquisition’s resources…(Maker grant her that they yet live…)She descends from the tower quickly, heading toward the keep. The Inquisitor is still away, busy in the Hissing Wastes with Vivienne, Cassandra and the boy-spirit, but the war council can make decisions without him. Especially in cases of emergency. And today is a war council day.(Maker grant her that they are still in session…)“Commander, is there a problem?” Grand Enchanter Fiona calls out from the battlements outside the Mage Tower as she lets the door slam behind her and near flees down the steps to the courtyard.She ignores her.“Hey, what’s on fire?” Varric calls out as she darts through the ever-milling guests toward Josephine’s office.She ignores him.A maid is emerging from the stairs leading up from the lower level, and Helaine collides with her in her hurry.“Sorry, my lady!” she calls out, as she re-settles the basket of firewood on her hip. “Uh, I mean, sorry, Commander.”This forces Helaine to stop, and breathe. Just for a moment. There is no sense in this haste if it is going to only cause pain to those who do not deserve her ire.“It is I who should apologise,” she tells the maid. “Are you injured?”The maid brushes off her dress and glances at the basket. “No harm done here, Commander. They’re all still in the council room, if that’s where you’re headed. Mind if I get in the Ambassador’s office now? She likes a nice fire when she’s done talking.”The Maker is kind indeed. Hopefully he is kind in more than just this.“Thank you. I will leave you to your work.”“As you wish, Commander. Go steady now.”Helaine continues on down the corridor, trying and failing to make her steps more measured. As she gets closer, she hears Leliana’s melodious voice, though she cannot catch her words.She pushes the door open. It is lighter than she thought it was, and it slams against the wall, rendering the occupants of the room silent with shock.Josephine is the first to recover herself. “Commander Helaine? I… Were we due to have a meeting?” She glances at her writing board. “I don’t-“With far more care, Helaine shuts the door behind her, and then steps forward, holding the letter aloft. The ambassador falls silent, just as Rutherford makes a gentle noise of enquiry.“I humbly request the Inquisition’s aid,” she starts, falling back on old patterns.Her expression must be grave, as Leliana immediately leans forward, reaching across the table for the letter. But she does not give it over. It will mean nothing to the spymaster, even despite her many skills of deduction.“Might I explain?”Leliana spreads her hands wide. “Of course.”She takes a breath, steadying herself before she spills the details of Cosette’s assignment and the ensuing letter, as concisely as she can. “Several weeks ago, members of the venatori stole sensitive Chantry documents. Knight-Enchanter Cosette led a small team of mages and mercenaries in pursuit. They successfully infiltrated the venatori to retrieve the documents and gather further information on the enemy. A second team was to create a distraction, allowing Cosette's unit to escape. The distraction never came. Cosette believes the venatori killed the second team. Her cover remains intact, but she fears it will not last.”“You wish the Inquisition to go to her rescue?” Josephine asks.She nods.Leliana holds out her hand again. “Might I see the letter?”“It is encrypted.”“And you are certain of your decryption?”She bites back any irritation she feels at Leliana’s lack of faith. The woman has lived too long and too carefully to take things at face value. “I am.”“Could it have been forged?”It is a valid concern, she reminds herself. Venatori attempting to lure the Inquisition to an ambush. Trevelyan has killed enough of them for the others to be desperate. And desperate people do foolish things.“I do not believe so. It is a private code. One that Cosette and I developed together and shared with no one else.”“And she can be trusted?” Leliana asks, her tone still ever-so-slightly suspicious.Again, she bites back her irritation, her frustration, her objections. “She is a friend. If Vivienne were here, she too would be able to vouch for her.”Maker, how she wishes that Vivienne were here. This would be so much easier with her powers of persuasion, her mastery of the Game.“Where is she?” Rutherford interrupts.She looks down at the map on the war table, tracking the border of Nevarra and Orlais up with her finger until she reaches the place mentioned in the letter.“Near here.”Without hesitation, Rutherford places one of his own markers on the spot she has indicated.“It’s not far from the Shrine of Dumat,” he notes. “Venatori recently disengaged with our soldiers in that region. I’d assumed that it was either due to Samson’s escape and our destruction of his stronghold, or their own movements in the Hissing Wastes.”“Should we not inform the Chantry first?” Josephine asks, toying with her quill. “It is their assignment, after all.”Though she opens her mouth to speak, Rutherford gets there first.“We will send aid immediately. As I said, we have soldiers in the region. They already know the area; will likely know where these venatori have gone to ground. They can cause the distraction that the Knight-Enchanter’s party need to escape.”“If such a thing is successful, would Cosette be willing to share the information they have learned?” Leliana asks.At this, she falters slightly, her loyalties divided. She cannot make such a promise on another’s behalf. Not against the Chantry, no matter how high Leliana has been and may or may not soon be within its hierarchy. But perhaps a compromise can be made.“I trust you will respect the secrecy of her mission, but I am certain that she will trade her knowledge of the venatori.”The spymaster does not seem entirely satisfied by such a thing, but she spreads her hands again, marking her acquiescence.“Thank you,” Helaine says, trying to put the full measure of her meaning behind her words.“Time is of the essence,” Rutherford says, hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “Josephine, Leliana, might we continue our discussions tomorrow? I would like to send word to my soldiers immediately.”Josephine makes a mark on her board. “I will rearrange my meeting with the Fereldan trade delegation. Leliana?”She shrugs delicately. “As you wish. Tomorrow. I will be in the rookery.”“Thank you,” Helaine repeats, redundantly.Josephine nods. “Meeting adjourned.”No sooner as she said the words, Rutherford nods back to her and then strides around the table, opening the door. There, he pauses a moment, catching Helaine’s eye and waiting for her to walk through it before he follows her.They cross the keep and reach his tower in silence. She is grateful. For all that she has already achieved, her mind is still racing. Though it is not the first time one of her friends has been in danger, has been trapped, has been waiting for rescue, something about this hits her… differently.Perhaps it is because this is the first time she has sought to use the Inquisition for herself.Perhaps it is because Rutherford had agreed so readily, while Josephine and Leliana quibbled.Perhaps it is because it is… Cosette.Memories of the last time they had seen each other fill her head…“Breathe.” Rutherford’s voice sounds like it is coming from a long way off, or perhaps from underwater. Muffled. But it is the low, commanding tone he uses with his subordinates. That he used to try to use with her. “Helaine, breathe.”She glances up, catching his eye. They are safe within his tower, but he has not gone to his desk, as she expected. Has not begun to write his note, his orders. Instead, he is standing within arm’s length of her.Belatedly, she follows his order, breathing deep.“I think you’re having a panic attack,” he says, clearer now that she’s listening, that she’s looking at him.She frowns at him. “No, I am not.”He gives her a doubting glance. “Very well, but the news, the letter, it’s shaken you. Which is understandable,” he hastens to add. “We’ll deal with it. Will you sit, while I write the note?”A further argument sticks in her throat, and she only nods. He watches her a moment more, concern in his eyes, before he makes for his desk and pulls out a slip of parchment small enough to be carried by one of Leliana’s ravens.She follows, taking the chair on the other side of the desk. Once she is sat, she feels like her legs are made of lead, heavy and unwieldy. Perhaps he is not so far from the mark.Time passes. It might have been a moment or an hour, she could not say. Only that he is there beside her, and she lets herself feel safe under his guard.Then he clears his throat.“Is there a codeword? Something my soldiers could say or show to prove themselves to the Knight-Enchanter? I want her to know that you sent them.”Wordlessly, she reaches for the paper, and he hands it to her with his quill, pushing the ink pot across the table. She draws a small sigil in the space left. Nothing that would be immediately obvious, but Cosette will know what it means. Safety. Friend. Trust.“Is that all?”“Yes.”“Do you want to stay here? I’ll take it to the rookery now.”The thought of being alone shocks her into standing, and he nods.“Come on then.”She remains silent as they walk back to the keep, slip through Solas’ rotunda, up to the main library, and up again to the rookery. Leliana is there, a raven already on her arm. As Rutherford crests the top of the stairs, she holds out her other hand.Before Helaine knows it, the bird and note are gone.A hushed conversation ensues between Rutherford and Leliana. She does not even try to eavesdrop, focussing instead on the snatch of sky she can see through the opening in the roof. Making herself quiet and small, like she used to when she was a child. Nonthreatening. Unassuming. Invisible.She hates it.But she cannot seem to stop.“Helaine?”The sound of her name draws her attention, and she pulls herself back into the room. Looks down at him.“It’ll take some time for a reply,” he says quietly, stepping almost too close to her for comfort. Too close for anyone but him, and that is not a thought she has had before. “You need to take your mind off it.”His words take a moment to sink in, and she almost shakes herself. It has not been so long since she had to do the same for him, to stop him falling into the pit created by waiting for news of Samson. She had not expected him to ever have to do the same for her.“I will.”Leliana whispers something to Rutherford that she does not hear, and he glares at the spymaster over his shoulder before turning back to her.“I have some business in the barracks. Will you come?”She nods, unthinking. “As you wish.”They descend again, back down through the main library, and Solas’ rotunda, and across the bridge to his tower before winding their way down the steps toward the main gate. It is only once they are free of the fortress and in the open air that she realises he is not heading toward the barracks as he had said.“Where are we going?” she asks.He blushes, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Figured out my lie then? Sorry. Thought it might help to get you out of the fortress for a bit. We can go back if you like. Or go to the barracks, like I said we were.”“Where were you intending to go?”“Honestly, I’m not sure. Just walk. See where we ended up before you started talking to me again.” He grimaces. “Not that you have to talk, that is. But… I wouldn’t mind listening, if you wanted to. I don’t remember you mentioning her before. But you seem… close. So if you want to talk, you can.”“We are… close.”He nods. Not prompting her. Not pressing her. She likes that. The way he never presses. Too many people in her life have only wanted things from her. He only seems to want what she will give him, and even then, half the time she seems to give him more than he is willing to take.Mostly in the form of arguments, if she is honest with herself, but he gives almost as good as he gets in that arena too.She knows so much about him. About his past, his family, his inner thoughts. The problems and the joys he has had in his life.How much has she told him in return?Scraps of information about her early childhood, carefully phrased. Isolated and innocuous stories about her friendship with Vivienne.Nothing more.“The clearing,” she says, in lieu of anything else. He seems to grasp her meaning even so.“Splendid idea.”It is further than she thought it was. They have previously only journeyed there on horseback. On the walk, he remains quiet, only periodically drawing her attention to some idle point of interest. A scurrying fennec. A particularly dense clump of elfroot. A cloud that resembles a dragon, if you tilt your head and squint a little.A transparent attempt to distract her, but she appreciates it.(Appreciates him.)When they reach the clearing, she settles down beside the little stream that runs through it, dipping her hand in the water. Cooling. He sits, more awkwardly, a short distance from her. Within arm’s length, she notes, but only if one of them leaned forward. She suspects that he would not be the one to lean.“I knew little Orlesian when I was brought to Montsimmard Circle,” she starts, hesitant. “Though lessons were conducted in Common, most of the… socialising was done in Orlesian. I found it… difficult. I picked up certain words, certain phrases, but no one wished to teach me more than that. I was excluded from most conversation.”She pauses. Too many images are clouding her head; things she has tried far too hard to forget over the years.Sitting alone in the common room, struggling to concentrate on the books she could only barely read, while whispered conversations fluttered around her like birds she could not catch. Mealtimes in the grand hall, sitting on the furthest bench and wishing that she could take her plate somewhere quieter. Lessons where she was always picked last as a partner, often with much complaint from whoever was forced to take her.But she will not tell him any of those things.Instead, she takes a breath, and continues.“I did not mind, I suppose. I had little desire to interact with the others. Then Cosette came. She is my age, but was brought to the Circle a while later. When she arrived, she was an… outcast, as I was. Her parents were poor farming stock. She had none of the charms and manners that Montsimmard praised. A quiet, sullen child. We slept in a small dormitory together. Us and two other girls. They chattered every evening. Gossip and dreams and the usual stuff of people who are trapped and wish they were free. All in Orlesian, of course. Cosette noted that I did not join in. She chose me for her ally.”Rutherford’s eyebrows flicker in a silent question.“It was not malicious. She was kind. She translated their prattle. Began to teach me, that I could understand them for myself.”A small, soft smile warms his face.“In return, I helped her with her lessons. I had been in the Circle for almost two years by then. I knew the library well. Had begun to learn simple spell-forms, focussing techniques. I taught her in turn. And after time, that trade turned to friendship. Something I was unaccustomed to.”He breathes something that sounds like an apology, and she cannot help but drop her gaze to her fingers, still trailing through the cool water.“Later, we both proved ourselves. Became Knight-Enchanters. Took Chantry assignments. It was not unusual for us to be in the same party, those first few years. Before she proved a talent for infiltration and I for command, and then we separated.”“You didn’t lose touch though?” he asks.(The first time he has spoken since they entered the clearing.)She glances up at him. “No. Letters, mostly. If we happened to be passing close to the same city, we tried to meet, however briefly. There were periods when one or the other of us were stood down, and returned to Montsimmard. If the other was close she would try to visit, if her assignment allowed.”“You had such freedom?” Then his cheeks redden. “Sorry, that came out badly.”“It is still difficult for you to reconcile the idea of a free mage.”“You’d think the length of time I’ve spent with the Inquisitor, and you, and all the rest, would have cured me of it.” His tone is rueful. “But there’s still that little voice in the back of my head that constantly worries about magic. Still fears. I wish I could carve it out. It only speaks lies. But it’s quieter than it used to be, thank the Maker.”“I hardly think he had much to do with it,” she cannot help but say, regretting it as soon as the words leave her lips.But he only smiles. “No. Mostly you.”The fond way he says it should chill her, she thinks. As if she is some paragon, some model mage who has elevated his opinion of her kind. As if his good impression was reliant on her good behaviour. But after the conversations they have had, particularly the one only recently about the larger problems of the Circles, the excessive fear that the Chantry encourages against mages, she knows that he speaks the truth. Knows that he wishes to be better, to fight against his prejudices. And not only for her.So all she gets is a slight warm glow in the pit of her belly.Damn him.He is good at this, she thinks. Somehow. Good at making her feel… disarmed. She trusts that he would not seek to harm her. That he would not seek to use her. It is not a judgement that she has made about more than a precious few people in her life.The memory of his hand closing around her wrist – the breath startled from her lungs – still lingers, but it is increasingly dimmed. He has not touched her in anger since. Nor had he before, come to that. Indeed, he treats her with unrelenting, unyielding respect.Even when he argues with her.
Andraste’s dimpled arse.
He likes her.More than as a friend.Though this is hardly news – though she had even suspected as much before – it is near impossible to deny it now that she sees that expression on his face. An expression that she has seen before, she notes, though only briefly and never for long enough to truly identify it as what it is…Longing.For her?
How?
As she makes this realisation, he looks away from her, his gaze dropping to the ground in front of him. The clearing is scattered with little flowers, white and yellow. He absently plucks a few between his fingers, getting as much grass as he does blossom.“How long has it been?” he asks.She can only frown, confused. He is not party to the conversation within her head, is he?“Since you saw Cosette,” he clarifies.That… that makes more sense.“Perhaps seven, even eight months,” she realises, counting the months on her fingers. “Around the time I received Vivienne’s request to come here.”“Maker, has it been so long since we came to Skyhold?” He sounds a little incredulous, but she supposes that they have done much since then.She nods.“You’ve both been busy.”She nods again.“I’m sorry. Perhaps… perhaps she can come here. To Skyhold. So you can see her.”The idea is bewildering, if pleasant, and she allows herself a moment to imagine Cosette at Skyhold before she considers the reality of the situation.“She will need to return the Chantry’s documents. To Val Royeaux. I cannot say where she will be needed after that.”He gives her another of those damnably soft smiles. “Perhaps when… when all this is over.”“Perhaps. I will be returning to the Chantry then in any case.”His smile falters and then fades. “What?”She frowns. Why would this confuse him?“This is my current assignment, Rutherford, just as chasing the venatori is Cosette’s. Neither of us fled the Chantry when the Circles fell, as so many did. I am not one of Fiona’s renegades.”“But Vivienne invited you here…” he trails off, brow furrowing.“She is not a renegade either, though she does not take assignments so much as she chooses her own. A benefit of her position and connections. She made a request to the Chantry to send a Knight-Enchanter for a potential appointment as the Inquisitor’s trainer. I was at the top of her shortlist for acceptable candidates, and as I was able to be made available, I was chosen to be sent. You… you were surely aware of this?”It is near inconceivable to imagine that Rutherford – particularly the man he had been when she arrived, far more Knight-Commander than Commander – had been unaware of how she had come to Skyhold in the first place. He kept such a keen eye on the mages.“I…” He pauses, visibly trying to think. “It was soon after we arrived at Skyhold. I had a million things on my mind. Josephine took the lead on the… uh… selection process. I saw reports. Before you all arrived, I talked to Vivienne, Dorian and Solas about the candidates. Vivienne… she only extolled your virtues. That you would be able to improve upon the training she had been giving the Inquisitor. She didn’t mention the Chantry. The Circles…”“Perhaps she assumed you knew.”In honesty, there are a dozen reasons she can imagine for which Vivienne would not have told Rutherford the truth. The woman is as keen a player of the Game as any she has ever met, and her every action has layers upon layers of motive. She will have to discuss the matter with her friend. Void take her that she’s hundreds of miles away in the Hissing Wastes still.Rutherford nods, but he still seems… dispirited.“What do you intend to do when all this is over?” she asks.His cheeks and ears redden a little. “I’m not certain. I had a plan, an idea, anyway. But… I’m not sure it’s possible. It might be beyond my capabilities.”“Oh?”“Something you said, about my investigating the other templars in our ranks to see who has, or wants to, give up lyrium. I… I wonder if it might be possible to set up some sort of sanctuary where those who wanted to go through the process could do so. Those who want to leave the templar order for good. In peace, not war as I did. Somewhere out in the countryside, perhaps. Quiet. It would take a lot of work though. It might not be feasible.” He scoffs a little. “That is, if it was wanted at all. I haven’t managed to find anyone who has started the process of withdrawal, and few seemed interested in the idea when I made my enquiries. I… I don’t think they really believed that I no longer take it.”“Perhaps if you made your condition more public?”His expression is still conflicted. “Perhaps.”“I do not think it would be beyond your capabilities,” she adds then. “The sanctuary. If the right help was found. The right foundation. You would need land, property, supplies, to begin with. Supply lines for later. Staff. I assume you would not wish to have the templars cooking and cleaning for themselves while they are in recovery. A healer or two would be valuable, for the symptoms. Someone to make pain and sleep potions for those afflicted. An administrator to keep track of accounts and such. I assume you would take a managerial role. Guiding and inspiring?”He nods, seeming a little perplexed by her description. “I hadn’t let myself think about it in such concrete terms yet. But you’re… ah, not wrong.”She finds it so much simpler to talk about this than she had about herself. It is far too easy to let her mind and her tongue run away with the idea, painting the picture of a small estate in the depths of an imagined Ferelden. Individual bedrooms for privacy. A large hall for eating and socialising. Wide windows to show the sky. An exercise ground behind. A stable for horses, a barn for other animals, perhaps. A river running nearby. A garden to grow food, but also for meditation, contemplation…Then… he has that expression again. Longing.In his version of this vision, she is there too. With him. She does not need to ask to know.But the idea is too big for her to consider. Too big to even comprehend. There are too many variables, too many things to consider.Since she was a child, since she discovered the existence of the Knight-Enchanters, it is all she has ever wanted to be. As much freedom and respect as a mage – particularly one of her kind – has any hope of getting. And she has been good at it. Has built precious trust with her skills and reliability. That trust has brought her all the way here, to Skyhold.To him.The Circles might have fallen, Thedas might be at war with itself, but her talents are still needed. Still demanded. They have yet to elect a new Divine, but she has little doubt that, whoever the woman is, she will have continued use for her Knight-Enchanters.Then again…If it is Leliana…If she were permitted…This would be a retirement, of sorts. A quieter life even than the one she has at Skyhold. Far fewer responsibilities. Far fewer subordinates. Far fewer mages…What role could she even take? He would have little need for her usual skills. She was not there at the beginning of his withdrawal, but she can think of no need for a commander than he cannot fulfil better himself. There is no need for a battlemage at all…Would any mages even be welcome at such a place? Except by him.Templars wishing to break with their vows may not be comfortable sharing space with those who reminded them of their former charges.No. Best to break him of the idea.Just… not now. Not here.Not yet.Much as she loathes to break this tranquillity, the sun is dipping in the sky, and he must have work to get back to. She had finished what remained on her desk, but there is always something more to come.“We should go back,” she says, already starting to stand.It takes him a moment to follow suit, his legs clearly stiffer than hers. She holds out her hand to help him up, and he hesitates a moment before taking it. A moment more before he thanks her softly.“Dinner, later?” he asks, as they begin to make their way out of the clearing and back to Skyhold.She nods. “Of course.”“And perhaps… something after? Chess? Or I could teach you some card games that I used to play with my siblings. No gambling, I promise. I’ve learned my lesson.”He sounds so hopeful, for all that he is actively trying to distract her again. It makes her mind slip to the bird, hopefully winging its way toward Northern Orlais as they speak. But there is nothing she can do on that account. Nothing but wait.She offers him a small smile.“What kind of card games?”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Cullen
From the moment Helaine had entered the war room, that letter in her hand, he’d known something was terribly wrong. He’d never seen her so pale, so… tense. Even in the midst of battle, or its aftermath. He’d never seen her look so… vulnerable.He’d prayed to the Maker, to Andraste, for her friend’s safety, and then he’d sent the message to his soldiers, ignoring Leliana’s teasing comment about… certain ways he could help her take her mind off it. She is his friend, and nothing more.It will never be anything… more.That said, though, distracting her is more… distracting than it should be.Hearing the story of how she met Cosette was painful. Not that it should’ve surprised him. She’d told him before about the circumstances of her birth, and he imagines that that had contributed to her straightforward manner. She’s no social butterfly nor player of the Game like Vivienne, and he’s frankly glad of that. They’d have never become friends if she was.But he’d always been… not popular, exactly, but… well-liked. He’d had his siblings and the other village children when he was young, always playing games and having their little adventures. When he went away to the monastery, he’d had friends. Other templars-in-training. As a recruit too, in Kinloch, until… well. Until. In Kirkwall, he’d been obsessive and angry and controlling, but he’d been in good company. Even as their Knight-Captain, he’d never had a shortage of people keen to spend time with him.The image of Helaine, quiet and alone, unable to even understand…Why couldn’t she speak Orlesian?He’d wanted to ask, but he hadn’t wanted to break the spell between them; terrified that she would fall silent if he pushed her to answer something she didn’t want to talk about.Not that it had mattered, in the end. He’d ruined it all by questioning the idea of a free mage, and panicking about the idea of her leaving him, and then somehow she’d managed to change the subject to talking about him again.His damn sanctuary.That evening, he doesn’t wait to see if she will come to him, crossing the battlements in an only-slightly-restrained-hurry as soon as the bell rings. But when he reaches the Mage Tower, she isn’t at her desk, and his heart sinks.“’Scuse me, ser!” comes a little voice. A chirrup, if he was forced to describe it.It takes him a moment to locate the source of the voice. A small, slight girl. Human. Perhaps eight to ten years old. She has her hands clasped tightly behind her back in an adorable parody of parade rest.
Bethy.
Maker, it’s only been a matter of two or three weeks since he last saw her – well-rested at last but still as scruffy as she’d been when he met her – when she left the infirmary to settle into the mage quarters. He hadn’t wanted to interfere. Best that she be surrounded by other mages, her peers and teachers. But she already looks so much… healthier. Her hair now falls into soft, clean curls, her ragged dress replaced with neat apprentice robes, her cheeks and eyes brighter. Is she taller than she had been a fortnight ago?She is clearly waiting for acknowledgement, so he nods. “Good afternoon.”“You looking for the commander, ser?”He’d worry about being so transparent except that, in honesty, he can’t think of any other reason why he’d be in the Mage Tower. So he nods again.“I am. Do you know where she is?”“Meeting, ser!” she replies, just as enthusiastic as she had been when they first met, if a little more polite.“With?”At this, her mouth twists a little. Unaware, or reluctant to divulge the information, he isn’t sure.“Do you know when she will be back?” he tries instead.She nods, eager once more. “Tomorrow, ser! After drills.”Ah. Well, that’s less helpful. He can’t help his shoulders sinking a touch. Even if all she means is that Helaine is done with working in the tower for the evening, there’s no telling how long a meeting might take.They had agreed to meet for dinner, but it was hardly a summons. If she has more important claims on her attention, he’d be a selfish fool to stand in her way.“Thank you, Bethy.”“Apprentice Bethy, ser!”He can’t help but smile. It reminds him of that first time he and Helaine had spoken; him messing up her title and her firmly correcting him.“My apologies, Apprentice. Thank you, Apprentice Bethy. You’ve started your lessons then?”“Yes, ser!”“And are you enjoying them?”She tilts her head. “Not the sums. They twist around in my head. But I made snowballs this morning! Want to see?”Much as he strangely would like to see that, he shakes his head. “Perhaps another day. I need to find Commander Helaine. Keep working hard, even on your sums, and I’ll come and visit you again soon. Does that sound good?”“Yes, ser!” She continues beaming at him for a moment, and then bounces a little on the balls of her feet.Waiting.For?“Ah, you’re dismissed.”“Thank you, ser!”She darts off toward the steps to the upper levels of the tower, and he can’t help the slight sigh that escapes him. Though, in honesty, he cannot remember ever interacting with a young mage apprentice who was so… animated. Even at Kinloch. She had hardly been shy when he first met her, but he would dare to say that many of the awkward, self-conscious apprentices he had known throughout his career hadn’t been so before their magic manifested and they were dragged away from their families.The Chantry could stand to learn a few things from the way the Inquisitor, Helaine and Fiona have arranged matters…But that still leaves him none the wiser as to Helaine’s location.She has left the tower, or Bethy would likely have told him that she was still here when he asked when she would be back. In any case, he doesn’t fancy searching the place for her. The mages deserve to keep their tower free of him.Skyhold is large, though.Full of rooms and people, and that’s just the keep. It’s just as likely that her meeting might have taken her to the barracks, or the tent city, or the training grounds… It could take him hours to find her, and by then, dinner would be over and most of their evening too.Far slower than he had come, he walks back to his tower.And finds her.In his chair.“There you are,” he says, trying a little too hard not to sound as relieved as he feels.She glances up from the small pile of paperwork she’s been leafing through. Completed reports, ready for one of his runners to pick up on their evening rounds. He doesn’t worry about her reading them. Likely checking that he is keeping to their rules about delegation – which he is.“Where else should I be?” she asks, curious. “Though you were not.”“I went to the Mage Tower. Got accosted by Bethy, of all people. She said you were having a meeting and wouldn’t be back till tomorrow.”Her eyes soften at the edges and he smiles as she taps the pages together and replaces them on the edge of his desk.“It’s good to see her looking so well,” he adds. “I hardly recognised her.”“It has been a month since last you saw her.”It has?Maker, time moves quickly.“She has adapted well to her new position,” Helaine continues. “Though I believe the promise of someday wielding a spectral blade is foremost in her mind when it comes to her behaviour. Not to mention her attentiveness in lessons. Between them, she has taken to lingering in the Tower or barracks, waiting to be assigned small tasks by the other mages. Especially my Knight-Enchanters. She would like to be seen as a Knight-Enchanter in training.”“I can’t say I’m surprised,” he says, the image making him smile. “She mentioned something about learning how to make snowballs?”She nods. “It seems her affinity is for ice. Hardly surprising, given her first manifestations, but some young mages shy away from the magic they first cast. The trauma colours the feeling and makes it difficult to manifest. Especially if that first magic had caused them pain or terror.”“Perhaps she associates it with defending herself instead.”She smiles again, though it’s even tighter than usual, and then… “You were looking for me?”It takes him a slightly too long moment to remember why. “Dinner. You said you’d join me.”“And here I am. Come along.”He follows her.*The ensuing days follow a predictable pattern. Training in the mornings, paperwork and meetings in the afternoon, dinner in the evenings. Every day, he finds himself asking Leliana if there’s been any news, and there never is.He tries to keep the subject off Cosette, the way she had never brought up Samson, and it’s hardly difficult. She seems happier to discuss other things. The news that the Inquisitor, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Cole are finally on their way back to Skyhold, having killed yet another dragon. Bethy, attentive to her lessons and somehow growing in enthusiasm every day. The increasing distress of her teachers. The senior mages, now divided up between his units. The first unit’s departure to the Emerald Graves, ahead of the Inquisitor’s next planned journey. The possible deployments that could follow. His imagined sanctuary.His damn sanctuary.Half of him wishes that he’d never brought it up in the first place, but the other half…It’s a foolish dream. He knows that. But now that she’s painted such a vivid picture of what it could be, a way that he could do it, if he could only find the land and the gold and the people, he can’t help wanting to do it.The main problem now is, he can’t help wanting do it with her.Which is impossible. She’s made that much very clear, though she hasn’t directly said it. Once the war is over, she will return to the Chantry, probably with Leliana, and go back to… whatever it is that she was doing before she was summoned to the Inquisition.He’ll likely never see her again. Perhaps the odd important occasion, or if her assignment brings her close enough that she could drop by for a brief visit. Like Cosette.Who they still haven’t heard from.It’s only been nine days. The raven will have taken two or three simply to reach his soldiers, and then they will likely move to intercept the venatori before they send word back. Intercept the venatori and rendezvous with Cosette and her company. And that’s if everyone is where they’re expected to be. If the venatori have fled, they’ll search first before asking for further orders…He’d told Helaine that it would be some time, but it could be weeks.Weeks that Cosette might not have.Damn it.But he can’t tell her that. So he just carries on as usual. As if there is nothing to worry about.He meets her every evening, just as she had before. Tries to think of new things for them to do, but more often than not, they end up in the same, safe activities. Dinner. Chess and card games. Sparring. Walking in the foothills.That evening, they are in the small cellar library.It’s nicer now than it was when he had first brought her down there. Between themselves, they are keeping it free of cobwebs, and they have re-organised the books as best they can. A worrying number of them are in languages even Helaine doesn’t recognise. They keep saying that they’ll bring Solas down to take a look, but they never do. It feels… odd to think of anyone else in here.The chess set is lying open on the table, but they haven’t started playing yet. He’s supposed to be writing another letter to his siblings, but he keeps getting distracted by his thoughts.His thoughts, and… watching her.He shouldn’t be. He knows that. Helaine is curled in the chair opposite him, reading a book. Something in Orlesian. He reads Orlesian substantially less well than he speaks it, which is to say, not at all, so he isn’t sure what it’s about, but he does know that it’s one of the newer books they’d found, with almost no crumbling pages.Her lips are moving as she reads, forming sounds he can barely even imagine, and he can’t keep his eyes off them. Not to mention that, every now and again, she scowls at the book like it has personally offended her, and – though she usually only makes that face at him – it’s really quite endearing.But it makes him think again of that story she’d told the other day. That she couldn’t speak Orlesian when she came to Montsimmard Circle. Which makes no sense. Of all the breadcrumbs of her past that she’s dropped, it’s the one that has stuck most in his head. He knew that her early childhood had been difficult and deprived, but even half-wild street children learned their own native language somehow.Finally though, she looks up, and catches him watching.“What?”He quickly averts his gaze, pretending to be thinking about what to write next, but it’s no good.“You can stop reading if it’s annoying you so much,” he notes, trying to distract her from his staring. “And don’t say it isn’t. The last time I saw that expression was when I tried to argue with you about sword techniques. I was right, by the way.”She scowls at him.“Yes, that’s exactly the expression! What’s the book doing to offend you so?”Closing the book, she puts it aside on the table and reaches for the chess set, beginning to set it up to play. Ignoring his question, he realises. He changes tact a little.“What even is it? You didn’t say.”“Nothing but a gossip rag disguised as a historical treatise. I should show it to Vivienne, she would find it… charming.”She’s watching him keenly as she says it, as if judging his reaction, and honestly, he isn’t… entirely sure he believes her that that’s all it is. But if that’s the explanation she wants to give, he’ll let her.“Speed or strategy?” he asks instead, picking up his own darker pieces and setting them in place on the chess board.She tips her head to one side, studying him yet closer. “The first time we played down here, we played for stakes. Do you remember?”As if he could forget.“A question for each piece taken. You won. And you never claimed your prize, if I remember correctly. At least, not in so many words.”“I did not.”Somehow, the whole atmosphere has changed. Charged. He has no idea why. What he’s done or said to make it so. But he sits up a little straighter.“Did you want to claim it now?”

Helaine
“Did you want to claim it now?” he asks.She hesitates.It is strange. This past week, her attention should have been on Cosette. Or on trying not to think about Cosette. But since the clearing – since the realisation that she had had about his feelings toward her – she has found it increasingly hard to keep the idea out of her thoughts.Not that she has made as much of an effort as she should.She has rarely… wanted. Not the way others of her acquaintance… wanted. Idle infatuations. Fantasies. The stuff of fairy tales. It is not for her. Not now. She has worked this long and hard for respect, not romance.But him…He confuses her. Blowing hot and cold seemingly without warning. Sparring with her, both literally and metaphorically, and then withdrawing, over and over again. If there was a pattern to it that she could see, perhaps it would bother her less.She was content being colleagues, amenable to being friends, but this…As much as he confuses her, she cannot help but… trust him. A designation that she has applied to few people in her life. And somehow with that trust comes a warm feeling that, if she is not careful, could turn into something… more.But nevertheless, it is all pointless. When this war is over, he will go off to this sanctuary he wants to establish, and she will return to the Chantry. To her next command, whatever that might be. They will never see each other again.There will be no happily ever after.There can be no happily ever after.And he seems the sort to want a happily ever after.But that does not stop her… wanting.Damn it.Damn him.Damn that book too.It had seemed innocuous when she picked it up. A biography of some early Orlesian emperor. Not a preferred topic of study, but she had caught a few references to battle tactics as she flicked through the pages, and thought it might be worth looking at. Sadly, it had developed that the references she had seen were merely metaphor for the biography’s true purpose, being something of a treatise on the emperor’s seemingly insatiable lust. A horror story, she might have thought, but the author was firm in his belief that few ladies at the Imperial court were unreceptive to his wandering eye. Not to mention his other wandering… attributes. The author had delighted in describing such conquests, and not from the point of view of the emperor, but from that of those women caught in his apparently irresistible thrall.She should have put it down when she realised what it was about, but she found it so perplexing that she could not help but keep reading. All this… wanting. How does anyone get anything done?And then…He had been watching her.Not for the first time. She has noted it increasingly often, especially in the recent weeks. The recent days. Him distracted from whatever it is he is supposed to be doing, his eyes finding her. He always looks away when she looks up, often with a self-conscious flush on his cheeks.It… unnerves her.Not the attention. She has grown used to that, somehow, and finds that she does not really mind him keeping an eye on her as she does him, but the expression on his face is that longing, and he… he does not know her. Not truly. Not… not in the way that she knows him.Would he persist in looking at her that way if he knew the contents of her past?The darkness in it?He has spilled his own secrets, and never asked for any in return. Not in so many words. Perhaps he prefers not to know, to see her for the strong and commanding presence she is now. But it still unnerves her.It unnerves her most because she… she wants to tell him.Wants to know how he would handle such knowledge.Is that foolish? He has already proven more than capable of withdrawing from her. Panicking and pulling back, as he had done at Halamshiral. If he fully turns away from her, if he is horrified or disgusted by her past, it would make working together at least near impossible, if not entirely so. And the Inquisition cannot afford such a thing. Especially not now. Not when victory might be so close at hand, and her mages might be the turning point…But nor can she let him continue to… to long for her. A lovesick commander is no commander at all, and she would not have his feelings for her cloud his judgement. Especially if they are futile.Confusing. As she had said.
Infuriating man.
“No,” she says, finally, when the tension is almost too much to handle.Seemingly untroubled, unaffected, he nods, straightening his pieces in their squares but her own nerves are nearly shot. She had come so close, and yet…
Still, she wants to tell him something.Something…“You tried to let me win that game.”He glances up at her. “For a minute, yes. But you beat me fair and square.”“If you had won, you were going to request a… regular schedule of interaction between us.”“That wasn’t quite the wording I would’ve used, but yes.” He frowns. “But even though I didn’t, luckily you still agreed to spending more time with me.”“I would offer you a question. Anything you wish to ask, before we start.”He’s still regarding her warily. “You don’t need to balance the books, Helaine. As I said, no matter what I did, you won fair and square.”“Even so,” she insists. “I would like to offer you a question. Anything you wish. I will endeavour to answer truthfully.”“Anything?” he echoes, and there is a note of scepticism in his tone. As if he does not truly believe that she will answer him. Not unwise, given her previous reticence to share anything of true substance about her past, save the basic circumstances of her birth.“Anything.”“Why couldn’t you speak Orlesian when you came to Montsimmard?”He says it breathlessly, like he needs to get it out before she takes the offer back, or else he loses his nerve to ask it.But all she can do is frown. She offers him the chance to ask anything he pleases, and he chooses something so… banal? So obvious? It makes little sense.“Because I am not Orlesian.”His expression is baffled. “You’re… not?”“Do I sound Orlesian to you?”A flush spreads across his face. “Your name is, isn’t it? But I suppose not. Maker’s breath, I’m sorry. I just… I assumed, given that you were raised in Montsimmard…”“I was,” she allows. “But I was born in Wycombe. It was one of the first things that Vivienne and I bonded over. She was also born there, though in far higher surroundings.”“You’re a Marcher?”“Does that raise me in your estimations?”He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, his smile warm. “I’m not sure that’s possible. You hold the very highest place in them.”This unnerves her again, and she decides that she cannot leave this there. Though she had only offered him one question, she feels compelled to give something more of herself. Something that – however foolishly – might challenge that hopeless look of affection in his eyes.“I was nine, I think. Namedays were not something we celebrated where I grew up. Father – the man who raised me – came and told me that I was to leave. I was to be taken to Orlais, where I would live in a beautiful chateau.”He frowns again. “You answered my question, Helaine. Please… don’t feel that you have to explain any further.”“And if I wish to explain further? If I wish to tell you why I was raised in Montsimmard, instead of Ostwick or Starkhaven or Kirkwall?”His face pales, and she would regret pushing him in such a way if it were not for the fact that she needs to push him. Needs for him to see at least a part of who she truly is, so that he will not look at her like that anymore.“Please. Go on.”It takes her a moment to work up the courage again. To steel herself. But she must tell him.“To Orlais, to live in a beautiful chateau. Father said that a man was coming to fetch me, and take me there. Not the lord of the house, but one of his servants. I… I was young, but I was not so innocent that I believed it would be as simple as he made it sound. I was no lost princess, no fairy-tale maiden. I was not even the heroine of one of Mother’s insipid romance novels. I knew that, at best, I was to be a servant – a slave – to the household, and at worst…”Rutherford’s expression turns grave, and she does not finish her sentence.“They would really take you so far?” he asks.“There was no chateau. Or, I suppose, there would have been, eventually… The man who was coming to fetch me was in the business of buying and selling children from the alienages. Not just Wycombe. He plied his trade all over the Free Marches, Nevarra and Orlais. Not strictly legal, but few cared if a handful of elven children disappeared. Even fewer cared when coin changed hands in the process.”His gaze drops to the chess board between them. “You were to be sold?”It is easier to speak when he is not looking at her. When she does not have to meet his eyes. She looks down at her own pieces, toying with her queen without moving it.“Father had already sold me. I never discovered how much I was worth to him, but the slave-master told me that I would fetch a pretty penny in Orlais. There were a few other children already in his possession when I was taken. All elven. Four girls and two boys. From Wycombe, we were put on a ship back to Val Royeaux. It was faster than a wagon.”She can feel how emotionless her voice is becoming, and she hates it, but she has not spoken these words in twenty years. Not since a dark, cold night when she and Cosette had been crossing the border between Nevarra and the Free Marches – the first time she had stepped foot on her so-called native soil in more than a decade. Not even Vivienne has been told the full story. All Helaine had told her was that she had been brought to Orlais as a slave. Vivienne had never asked anything further, and she had never offered it.“When we disembarked from the ship, we were taken to a house outside the city. A small estate. The master gave us new clothes to replace the alienage rags we were all dressed in, and then people came. Orlesians in masks. It was like a party, he said.”Here, she risks a glance at Rutherford, but he is still staring at his chess pieces, so she continues.“The master would not let them touch us, but they looked. Asked us questions. To demonstrate if we could sing, or dance. One woman only laughed, and then left. Some retreated into another room to make their negotiations, others did it openly, in front of us. Haggled, like we were fish at a market stall. One of the boys went first. He was a little older. Less fearful. Had become defiant and obstinate when we were aboard the ship. Had been punished for it. The bruises had not yet faded. The master was happy to take a lower price for him. But the rest of us… He refused several offers, saying that we were worth more than they were willing to pay. Some found this insulting, and left, but most became excited. The master plied them with wine and music, and then their purses became looser. It was no longer a matter of business negotiations, but a game of bids. They each tried to outdo the last with the sums of gold they were willing to lose in order to win one of us.”“Barbaric,” Rutherford breathes, almost involuntarily, though his eyes thankfully still remain fixed on the chess board.“The man who won me was… old and rich. I was to be a gift for his daughter. Soon to be a bride, he told the master. I was separated from the other children and taken back to Val Royeaux. To a beautiful townhouse. There was to be another party. A real one. One of the celebrations of his daughter’s impending wedding, where I would be given to her with the other gifts. One of his servants was set to teaching me a song to sing for my presentation. Something in Orlesian that I learned sound by sound, for they did not tell me what the words meant.”Here, he makes another involuntary noise, more a grumbling exhale than anything else, but she pauses a moment even so. Maker, she has not yet reached the worse parts of the tale.Part of her wants to stop, to take it back, but another, larger part of her just wants it out in the open. This part, at least. What had happened in Montsimmard itself, or after, that she would keep to herself for now.She continues.“The party was… grand. It seemed like hundreds of people, all in masks. Finer dresses than I had ever seen in my life. Silk and lace I had only ever dreamed of. The man presented me to his daughter and her fiancé, sat in thrones at one end of the hall, like they were Empress and Emperor. I sang my song. It was… well-received. My new mistress’ attention was soon turned by the jewels others brought her, by a set of exquisitely painted vases, by bolts of Antivan cloth shot through with real silver. But her fiancé… he insisted I sit with him for the remainder of the party. There was a footstool. I sat close enough for him to stroke my hair. Like I was a pet.”He is holding one of his chess pieces tight enough that his knuckles are white. She is half-afraid he will shatter it. So, she reaches out, her fingers brushing against his. His head snaps up, his gaze shifting to hers. Tentatively, she pushes against his closed fist, and he drops the chess piece.His king, she notes idly.“I survived,” she reminds him, as if that was not a given.“I know. But… But that doesn’t make it easier to hear.”Her heart cracks against her will, and her courage fails her. “I will stop.”His hand slides under hers. Holding it, after a fashion, but all she would have to do to escape him would be to lift her hand.“Don’t. Or… I mean, if it’s too difficult to say, then stop, by all means. But I want to hear the rest, if you don’t mind.”She closes her fingers around his, and he seemingly cannot help but smile. Encouraging. Caring.This is not the reaction she had intended from this story. Perhaps she should have told him one of the others instead. What had happened the night of her Harrowing, or just how she had reached the rank of Commander, or the incident in the Hunterhorns… but she cannot stop now.“I stayed in her father’s house until the wedding was over,” she continues. “A whole week of celebrations. After the gift presentation, I was not expected to attend any of them. Thank the Maker. But then it was time for the happy couple to journey to their new estate near Val Firmin. Another wedding present. I was packed into a wagon with their other servants. The journey was to take several days. We were not going on a direct route, but stopping off at various estates belonging to their friends. A tour.”She is getting close to the crux of her story now, and she cannot help but feel the dread creeping up the back of her throat. This was a mistake. She should have told him one of the other stories. Something worse. Something that would not make him… sympathetic.That would not make him pity her.Then he gently squeezes her hand. Just once. And she hates that it makes her breathing easier.“The visits at the first two estates passed without event. I was kept with the other servants. But the third… During dinner, my mistress mentioned my presentation, and after they had finished eating I was summoned to join them. I sang the song I had been taught, and they demanded more. But I knew no other Orlesian songs. Only Marcher tunes, things sung in taverns and on street corners. They laughed. Sang things for me to copy, though I knew not what they meant. One was a children’s song. It accompanied a courting game that noble children played. Boys and girls capturing each other in turn. Some of the other servants were ordered to play, to show me how to play. The guests were all deep in their cups by then, they thought it the height of hilarity.”She pauses, dropping her gaze to their still joined hands, letting the memory come as clear as it ever does. It is not an event that she often lets herself dwell on.“One moment I was singing, and then… I was caught. Trapped in someone’s arms. I remember screaming. Then everything went cold. And dark.”“Your magic,” he says, so quietly that she would almost think she had imagined it.“My magic,” she echoes. “One of the servants had grabbed me from behind. Unexpected. I had thrown out shards of ice. He died instantly. But I was lucky. So very lucky.”“Lucky?”“The lord of the manor had his lover in attendance. His mistress. Enchanter Jocelyne. A mage of the Montsimmard Circle. She caught me in a barrier before I could hurt anyone else. An argument ensued.”She does not dare look up, but there is tension in his forearm that was not there before.“I did not understand, other than the lord was furious at the death of his servant, and at my owners for bringing an unidentified mage into their midst. Enchanter Jocelyne attempted to calm the situation. Sent for a templar. There was nothing to do for the man I had killed, but for the other servants to remove his body from the drawing room and clean up. When the templar arrived, the lord told him to execute me.”His hand tightens around hers. “You were a child.”At this, she looks up, determined to catch his eye and make him understand.“I was an elven slave who had destroyed his property. He was well within his rights to call for my death. If one of the noble guests had been killed, or even injured, there would have been no question. But Enchanter Jocelyne intervened again. Charmed him. Begged him. I assume for my life. More arguing ensued, but by the end of the evening, she put me in her carriage and told the templar to escort me to Montsimmard. She stayed behind.”“You must have been terrified.”“I had killed an innocent man. I should have been terrified.”“Would you have blamed Bethy if she’d killed that bandit who was grabbing at her? You can’t have been that much older than her, if at all.”“He attacked her.”“You think a scared child can tell the difference? You said it yourself, he grabbed you from behind. He could have done anything to you. You were defending yourself.”“It was only a game.”“A game you didn’t understand, played by people you didn’t know. In a strange house. Surrounded by drunk Orlesian nobles. You were defending yourself, Helaine, just as she did.”The more he speaks the more… sense he makes.
Maker’s blasted cock.
This did not have the effect she hoped for. And thinking through her other stories… She cannot tell him what happened at Montsimmard. What happened at her Harrowing, or in the months and years leading up to it. And the rest… Most would require details of her assignments that the Chantry would not be best pleased to hear that she had revealed. Especially to an organisation such as the Inquisition. Especially to a man such as Rutherford.He strokes his thumb down the side of her hand. A soothing motion, and she hates that it has the intended effect of soothing her.“This was not supposed to go this way,” she admits, trying not to sound angry about it. “You were not supposed to… sympathise.”“What was I supposed to do then?” he asks. Curious, not accusing.“Be horrified that my first act of magic was the murder of an innocent. Disgusted, even.”“Oh. Do you think me such a monster then?”Void take her, he actually sounds hurt, and it makes her want to needle him just a little further. “I think you a former templar. One who fears magic even now. As you yourself have said, Rutherford. Do not deny it.”He leans back a little in his chair, though his hand stays connected to hers. “I won’t deny it. But there’s a difference between premeditated blood magic and the instinctive panic of a frightened child, Helaine.”Her gaze drops to their hands again.“Did you want me to be horrified?” he asks quietly, like he does not really mean her to hear him.“I thought, perhaps if you were…”“Perhaps what?”She usually hates indecision and hesitation, but it still takes her a moment to summon her courage again, looking up again to catch his eye.“Perhaps you might change your mind about… liking me. Wanting me.”His eyes widen for a moment before a flush spreads across his cheeks. Though she expects him to pull back his hand, to rub the back of his neck as he so often does in uncomfortable situations, he does not. She starts to pull her own hand back, and he tightens his fingers for a heartbeat before he releases her with a sigh.“What… what do you mean?” he asks, flustered.Is this really the game he wants to play?“You deny it then.”“I… I…” He stutters over the one syllable that he manages to utter, until he stops himself and takes a deep breath. “I’m your friend. That’s all. I promise.”“And is that all you would ever want to be?”This makes him turn a yet deeper shade of red. “I don’t have the right to ask you for anything more.”“Forget about what I might permit,” she says, frustrated and irritated, but as soon as the words leave her lips, she regrets it.His expression crumples.“Never,” he says, with the air of a vow. “Helaine, you can’t ask me to do that. Even hypothetically.”“Very well. Then imagine I was the one asking you. Would you want more?”He swallows heavily, pushing a little further back from the table. “You just tried to convince me to dislike you.”“This is a hypothetical situation.”“Then, hypothetically, I would have second thoughts about wanting to be with someone who would try to convince me to dislike them!”“Good!”This stops him in his tracks, and he frowns. “Good?”“That you do not feel that way about me any longer.”“Hang on… no. I… We’ve got this all twisted up in knots. Are you trying to tell me that you don’t want to be friends anymore? Because I don’t blame you for killing a man in self-defence when you were a child?”When he puts it that way, she sounds crazy.“I do not want to stop being friends.”“Then what? You don’t want me to… what?”“Look at me the way you do.”“What way?”Is it possible that he has absolutely no idea what he has been doing? That he is in such deep denial that he cannot consciously admit to his behaviour?“Like you wish me to go with you once the Inquisition has no more need of us.”“I… But you wouldn’t. I know that.”“It does not stop you wishing that I would though, does it?”His shoulders slump. “No,” he admits. “It doesn’t. I’m sorry. I… I don’t think I have much control over that. But I’ll try. If that’s what it takes to be your friend, Helaine, I swear I’ll try. And if I can’t, if it’s not enough, I’ll go to the Inquisitor, and insist you replace me. Then I’ll leave.”Her heart cracks again. Is this worse? It feels worse. It feels worse than almost anything she has ever endured. At least the pain, the guilt, the fear that she had felt in the past had been the result of others. Of those who had wanted to hurt her.When she had caused pain, it had been brought to an end as swiftly as she could. With her blade, or her magic, or her daggers, or, on that one all-too-memorable occasion, her bare hands.“That will not be necessary.”He frowns again. “I… Then, I still don’t understand. Can you just tell me what you want?”
You.
Damn it.But she does not say that. Instead, she pushes a chess piece forward one space.He nods, still a touch uncertain, and makes his own move.She focuses on the board, and the game begins in earnest.

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Cullen
He has… no idea what just happened.Literally. No idea.Focussing on the game before him is nearly impossible, but he tries his best.Tries not to look at Helaine.The idea that she’d noticed him watching her and didn’t like it… cuts him. Worse than a sword. Far worse than her sword, and… Maker’s breath, don’t think about that.But that only leads him to her voice in his head, somehow confused that he wouldn’t be horrified at the story she’d told. That it wouldn’t make him dislike her.Not that he hadn’t been horrified. But his horror had been entirely directed at the people who would buy and sell a child. At the man who would have called for that child’s death – no, her execution. At himself, who might have made the same decision once upon a time, motivated by fear and hatred.Never her.Maker’s balls, what must she think of him?When she’d told him that she wanted him to stop looking at her like they had a future together…He doesn’t, does he? At least, he didn’t realise he was doing it. He’ll have to be much more careful from now on. Keep his thoughts appropriate.No matter how much he does wish…Maker’s breath. He’d known it was likely a pointless hope before, but now she’s made it clear. It… hurts. Somewhere deep down inside. But he needs to get over it. He has never been entitled to anyone’s affection, least of all hers. The mere fact that she’s willing to keep him as a friend should be more than enough for him. After all he’s done, why would she ever want anything more?She takes yet another one of his chess pieces, and he drags his concentration back to their game. If this is all he’s allowed to have of her, Maker, he won’t waste it.But just as that thought crosses his mind, there’s a knock at the door.He glances up at Helaine, who looks just as confused as he feels. No one has ever bothered them here, not in all the weeks – months, even – that they’ve been spending time together.(Time that might soon be at an end, his traitorous brain fills in, unhelpfully.)A moment of hesitation, and then another knock. Slightly louder.“Shall I…?” he starts to ask, but she cuts over him, “Enter!”He’s expecting a servant. Or a runner, perhaps. Someone with a message.And it is a message.But Leliana is the one holding it.“Apologies for my interruption,” she says, her expression grave. “But I thought you would wish to read this immediately.”Then she holds out a slip of paper.He gets up to fetch it, but – somehow – Helaine is faster, pushing past him to reach Leliana first. Sinking back into his chair, he is careful to school his expression as he watches her read it. Nothing that could be construed as hopeful, even if he is hopeful. Hopeful for good news, despite Leliana’s countenance.She must be reading the note over and over again, because she doesn’t speak or look up for what feels like an entire age. And when she does look up, it’s Leliana whom she looks toward.“When did you receive this?”“Only a few minutes ago,” she replies. “I checked Cullen’s tower first, then came here.”She runs her fingers over the note, and then, awkward but undeniably happy, looks at him.“Thank you, Commander Rutherford.”The sound of his title from her lips feels somewhat likes he’s been run through with a spear, but he forces himself to smile even so. A polite, professional sort of smile.“Good news, I take it?”She nods. “A note from Lieutenant Mallory to say that the distraction was a success. The venatori are routed and Cosette and her company are safe. More news to follow.”“That’s wonderful,” he tells her, honestly.“They will return to Val Royeaux immediately,” she tells Leliana, seemingly ignoring him.“I had assumed as much. Would you care to translate the rest for me?”Part of it must be in code then. He remains silent.Helaine gestures to the paper, showing it to Leliana. “First, a repeat of that that I had sent her. It means safety. Friend. Trust. To prove she had been shown mine, perhaps, or confirming that I had spoken the truth. Next, victory. Objective achieved. Either her own, or that of rescuing her. Perhaps both. Third, home. It used to represent Montsimmard, but lately we have both been stationed out of Val Royeaux, and so the meaning has changed. It is this that tells me they are returning there. Fourth – with haste. They will be travelling quickly. To return the Chantry’s documents as they were instructed. I will write to her there and obtain the information you wished in return. Fifth and last – gratitude. To you and Commander Rutherford, as much as me, I imagine.”Leliana nods. “Thank you to you too then, for the translation.”It’s at this point that he notices Leliana has more papers in her other hand. He makes a small gesture with his chin toward them.“More news?”Shifting her hand so that it is out of sight, she shakes her head. “No. Reports from my scouts. I was reading them when the bird with Helaine’s note came.”“Anything to worry about?”She gives one of her annoyingly enigmatic smiles. “Not at present. I will inform you if that changes. For now, I will leave you to your evening.”Maker, honestly, he’s welcomed the distraction. The air between him and Helaine feels a little less… sticky with a third person there. But that’s cowardly of him. He should let Leliana get back to… whatever it is she was doing.He glances to Helaine, who nods.“Thank you for bringing the news, Leliana.”“You are most welcome. I will see you both at the war council meeting tomorrow, no?”Helaine nods again, and he offers up a smile that he hopes looks reassuring, before Leliana leaves, pulling the door shut behind her.Leaving him and Helaine alone together again.Maker’s breath, he hates that that makes him a little uncomfortable. Will she take the opportunity to leave now? The excuse to retire for the night, with platitudes about seeing him at the war council too? They don’t even have a joint training exercise planned tomorrow for her to want to get out of.But she merely rereads the note and then returns to her chair, laying the slip of paper beside the chessboard so he can see.The first line, in small letters, is in Common, and addressed to him, he assumes, though he has to pause and consider the matter for a moment first.

Commander, enemy routed and hostages rescued. Returning to previous orders. More news to follow. Lieutenant Mallory.

Below it are the five aforementioned sigils. Small pictures, not dissimilar to the one she had drawn on his own note. He assumes she’d told Leliana the truth about their meaning, though obviously neither of them can be certain, other than to trust her.Trust her.She clearly doesn’t trust him though…He tears his eyes away from the note, and back to the board, though he doesn’t reach out to make a move. Honestly, he can’t even remember whose turn it was next. And that is, if she even still wants to play. It hasn’t escaped him that she isn’t talking either.“If there’s anything you want to say, or discuss, you can,” he offers quietly, when the silence and stillness in the room – so unlike the companionable silence and stillness that usually fills this room when they’re together – finally gets too much to bear.She glances up at him, her eyes widening just a touch as if she’d forgotten he was there at all.Maker’s breath, perhaps he should just leave.“Or, if you want to be alone?”She shakes her head.“My apologies. I was… lost in thought. The prospect of Cosette, safe… We… We argued last time I saw her. She did not think it wise for me to join the Inquisition. Though Vivienne had requested me, and the tide of opinion in the Chantry had begun to shift in a more positive direction, she did not think me… well-suited.”“To what?” The question slips out before he can stop it.Luckily, she doesn’t take offence.“Teaching the Herald of Andraste. She saw it as a waste of time. Vivienne’s letter was… effusive. Declaiming his praises. His heroic actions at the fall of Haven. It seemed that there was little left for me do that Vivienne could not. She surmised, correctly as it turned out, that I would grow restless. I refused to listen, only thinking of the possibilities for new experiences. And the fact that Vivienne had requested me by name. The prestige of the assignment. So… we argued.”He tries to imagine what the Inquisition might have been like without her…Maker, he’s certain that he would no longer be the Commander. Would Cassandra really have noticed him overworking himself, trying desperately to run Skyhold as if he were the Knight-Commander of a Circle? Would he have gone mad? Or would he have resorted to taking lyrium again simply to keep up? The alternatives don’t really bear thinking about.“Would it upset you if I said I was glad you didn’t listen to her?” he asks, hesitant.She shakes her head, her eyes bright. “I too am glad that I did not.”This might be pushing his luck, but he can’t help it. “I’m also rather glad I’m not the only one you argue with. Not the only friend, even.”Her brow furrows in a slight scowl, and she grumbles, “I am not usually so argumentative. You both bring out the stubbornness in me.” A beat, where his heart almost stops, before she gives a small and reluctant smile. “It is surprisingly invigorating.”“If it helps, I agree,” he says, offering a smile of his own.But this makes her look down at the board. “Make your move, Rutherford. I have you in three. See if you can stop me.”This makes him frown, staring down at the board in an effort to figure out not only his next move, but how he’s going to counter her.Perhaps they can get through this…*The rest of the night had passed… almost as usual. They had briefly met in the morning to exchange training notes… as usual. And after, to report on their progress… as usual. Indeed, it was almost as if, despite the conversation they had had, nothing had changed between them. It all felt a little too good to be true.That was, until the war council meeting.They usually began with Josephine and Leliana exchanging what gossip they had heard since the last meeting, of which there was apparently a near endless supply. But today, when Josephine announces the beginning of the meeting, Leliana clears her throat.“If I might begin, Josie?”Frowning slightly, Josephine nods. “As you wish. Is there some problem?”She bites her lip delicately before continuing. “Perhaps I should have come to you privately, but I worry that the matter might concern the Inquisition as much as it does you personally, Josie.”“I don’t understand.”Cullen exchanges a slightly nervous and worried glance with Helaine, but she seems as lost as him as to what Leliana might be referring to. Unless it was something to do with those papers she was hiding last night?“Why don’t you just say it, plainly?” he suggests. Not one of Leliana’s strong suits, most of the time, but she nods.“Josie, what do you know of… Blackwall’s whereabouts?”Josephine breathes a heavy sigh of relief. “Oh, that? This is about that?”“If you might share with the class?” Cullen prompts.“He has left Skyhold to deal with some Warden business,” Josephine explains brightly. “He will be back in a week or so, he said. With the Inquisitor so rarely requiring him in his travelling party, he set Blackwall to keeping track of enquiries regarding… well, Wardens. After the business at Adamant and the conscription of the remaining Orlesian Wardens, don’t you remember?”Cullen remembers the conversation, even though it had been during one of his worse stress periods. Now that he thinks about it, Blackwall had seemed a little… reluctant to take the role. At the time, he had chalked it up to the man’s wishing that he could be more involved with the Inquisitor’s party, even resenting that due to Trevelyan’s fondness for Cassandra, Blackwall’s own sword and shield were rarely needed.“I do not believe that he was telling the truth, Josie.”Josephine frowns, her grip tightening on her writing board. “What evidence do you have?”“A few weeks ago, one of my scouts reported to me that Blackwall had been making subtle enquiries of several new Orlesian arrivals as to news of certain fugitives from the Orlesian army. This alone was not concerning. Early yesterday, I received reports from my contacts in Val Royeaux, including an account of the capture of one of the very men about whom Blackwall had been enquiring. I then had a pair of my scouts discuss the account within Blackwall’s earshot.”“You set a trap,” Helaine notes. He can’t tell if she’s critical or impressed. Perhaps both.Leliana sighs. “I expected him to approach the scouts. Or me. To verify the story, or to ask for more information. But last night, after dinner, I discovered that the page of my report containing the account had been taken. One of my assistants informed me that Blackwall had been up in the Rookery sending a message to Weisshaupt around the time of the theft.”“Circumstantial at best!” Josephine interjects, and he can’t say he doesn’t agree with her. Not least because sending a message to Weisshaupt, the headquarters of the Wardens, supports her claim that he told her he was leaving on business for the Wardens.“Let me finish,” Leliana says, holding up her hand. “I intended to speak with him this morning, only to find him gone, as you said. One of the guards informed me that he had left in the early hours, without escort. I made a brief search of his quarters for evidence, and found the missing page of my report, and… these.”She holds up two folded notes, one saying “Inquisitor” and one “Josephine”.All three of them frown, and Josephine holds out her hand. “You should have given this to me immediately, Leliana. Why did you delay?”“I was trying to make further enquiries, Josie. I wanted to find another explanation for this.”“Give me the note!”Leliana relinquishes it into her outstretched hand, and Josephine unfolds it, reading with a disbelieving expression.“He’s gone, Josie.”Her eyes flicker across the paper over and over again, tears collecting in the corners of them, and Cullen exchanges another glance with Helaine. It really feels like they shouldn’t be witnessing this.Helaine reaches across the war table, retrieving the other note from Leliana’s hand. He steps closer to read it over her shoulder.

Inquisitor,

You've been a friend and an inspiration. You've given me the wisdom to know right from wrong and, more importantly, the courage to uphold the former.

It's been my honour to serve you.

There is no signature, but he doesn’t doubt that it’s Blackwall’s handwriting. And, well… it certainly sounds final. Like he’s not coming back.“Do you have the report he took?” Helaine asks.Leliana nods, retrieving a crumpled page from her pocket. Again, he reads it over her shoulder.

Lieutenant Cyril Mornay, one of the soldiers responsible for the Callier Massacre of 9:37, was captured in Lydes. Like the others who were arrested for their involvement, Mornay insists that he did not know who he was assassinating, and that he was just following the orders of his captain. This captain, Thom Rainier, is still at large. Mornay is to be executed within the week in Val Royeaux.

“Do we know who this… Cyril Mornay is?” he asks. “Has Blackwall ever mentioned him? Or Thom Rainier?”Josephine shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks even as she roughly swipes them away with her fingers. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”“Josie…” Leliana attempts to put an arm around her, but she steps backward.
“Don’t.”
“I assume then that Blackwall has gone to Val Royeaux,” Helaine notes. “But to stop the execution or to ensure that it happens?”Leliana shrugs. “I don’t know.”Privately, he thinks this unlikely. Leliana knows… everything. At the very least, she’d have a theory as to the probable choice.“What do we do next?” he asks.“Go to Val Royeaux, of course!” Josephine says, tucking her note into a hidden pocket in her skirt. “He lied to me. Besides, he is a member of the Inquisition. One of the Inquisitor’s closest companions. His behaviour reflects upon us all.”He can’t say he disagrees.“We should inform the Inquisitor,” Helaine notes. “They will be partway across Orlais by now, able to reach the city as easily as one could from Skyhold.”“Even if that weren’t the case, we should still inform the Inquisitor,” Cullen adds. “He’ll want to know. He may even already understand why Blackwall is so interested in this case.”Leliana nods. “I will send a raven at once.”“And I will leave today,” Josephine says, beginning to scribble notes on her writing board. “If I travel quickly, I may yet be able to reach him before he reaches Val Royeaux and gets into whatever trouble he intends.”He exchanges a brief, somewhat panicked, look with Helaine, and then catches Leliana’s eye. They cannot allow her to go alone. And yet… Blackwall is not the only one heading toward Val Royeaux. It’s almost perfect.“Take Helaine with you,” he suggests.Both women look at him, both frowning.He can’t help but reach up to rub the back of his neck. “I was just thinking… You would be safer with her.”Both women bristle.“You think I would not take an escort of armed soldiers?”“You think to volunteer me as bodyguard?”He shoots a desperate glance at Leliana, but all she does is smirk at him. An expression that very clearly reads ‘no, this is your problem, you can get out of it yourself’, despite the fact that she had been the one to start this whole thing.Turning back to Josephine, he spreads his hands in mock-surrender. “I simply meant that, in the absence of the Inquisitor, it would be sensible to take one of us with you. And you-“ he turns to Helaine, hands still up “- Cosette is currently on her way to Val Royeaux. If you go after Blackwall, you can kill two birds with one stone. See her and find out what this is… all about.”But Helaine has that set to her chin that he recognises only too well from months of arguments. That set that says that now that she has decided to disagree with his opinion, she won’t back down. Before now, he might have attempted to appeal to her, but after yesterday, he’s fairly sure that she’ll just argue back harder for the spite of it.“Fine. Josephine, would you allow me to accompany you?” he tries instead.Her eyes are still narrowed at him, but she nods. “Let us leave then. I will give you an hour to prepare your things and gather your soldiers. As few as possible, please, I would like to make haste.”Another slightly desperate glance at Leliana, but she’s still just smirking.“I will send the note to the Inquisitor to meet you in Val Royeaux,” she says. “Helaine and I will hold the fort while you are gone.”Josephine strides from the room without a glance back, Leliana swiftly following in her wake.Leaving him and Helaine.Alone.He turns back to her. “My apologies, Commander. I hope you know that I didn’t mean to offend you. I just thought you might be happy for the excuse to go to Val Royeaux after yesterday’s note.”“If I wanted to go to Val Royeaux, I would,” she tells him, matter of fact, as she moves three of the spare quest markers – one of the Inquisitor’s, one of Josephine’s and one of his own – to the spot denoting Val Royeaux. “I do not need an excuse. Besides which, I have barely ever even spoken to Warden Blackwall. I would not be useful in his retrieval. Unlike you.”His turn to frown. Though true, he and Blackwall had once been frequent sparring partners, especially in the early days of the Inquisition in Haven, he can’t say that he has socialised with the man a great deal. Especially in recent months. He tends to keep himself to himself down in the stables, talking to Dennet or carving things.But he still doesn’t feel like arguing, so he nods, resigned.“Do you have any instructions for me? Advice, or so on?”“You do not need me to guide you, Rutherford,” she tells him. “But if I might make a suggestion… Take Nina with you. In case… Take Nina.”The mage who had cast a barrier over him at the Shrine of Dumat and probably saved his life. Not to mention one of Helaine’s most trusted Knight-Enchanters. It won’t be the same as having her there herself, but if he had been given the option, he would have picked her too.“Of course. Thank you, Commander.”Did she wince at the using of her title and not her name, or was that his hopeful imagination? He can’t tell, and won’t try to ask. Instead, he tips his head toward the door.“I should go and get ready, if you could…”“I will go and inform her of her deployment. Make haste, or Josephine will leave without you.”She has a point.He hurries from the room.*Despite their best efforts, they do not catch Blackwall that day. Or the next.A few of Leliana’s contacts along the road confirm that he has been sighted, but the sightings grow further and further ahead. He seems to gain ground with every passing hour.Unsurprising, really, given he’d had more than half a day’s head start, and is travelling alone, not as a party of five as they are.He had half-expected Josephine’s emotions to cool as they journeyed, for her to put aside her anger in favour of either distress at his leaving her, or curiosity as to what could possibly be more important, but the fury doesn’t seem to abate in the least. Part of him hopes that they don’t end up finding the man, or he can’t help fearing just what Josephine might do to him when they do.As they reach the crossing to Val Royeaux late one evening, they receive word from another scout that the Inquisitor and his party have been spotted approaching the city, which would be encouraging, except that the scout also reports that Mornay is to be executed the following morning.“We’ll never get there in time,” Cullen confirms, and then, to stall Josephine’s next question, “Even if we could find a boat to take us across at this time of night. Which we won’t be doing. Not only because it’s dangerous, but also because you will want to be well-rested when you confront Blackwall, in whatever form that takes.”Josephine pouts, but when Nina and the two soldiers they have also brought with them begin setting up camp for the night, she reluctantly helps.They do not end up crossing until mid-morning, and when they reach the Val Royeaux harbour, gossip is already buzzing all around them.“Can you believe such a thing?” he hears one masked woman remarking to another. “Hiding in plain sight all this time? The nerve of the man!”“Such a spectacle!” a man cries out, as they make their way toward the marketplace, the site of the supposed execution. “Worthy of an opera. I may commission one…”“You know, I heard that the Inquisitor himself intervened?” another man says, which draws Josephine to a halt, and the rest of them with her.“Do you suppose he knew?” his female companion asks.“How could he not? Pretending to be a Grey Warden. The audacity!”
Maker’s breath.
There can be no doubt that they’re referring to Blackwall. But the idea that he… isn’t a Warden? Is that what they’re saying? There must be some mistake, surely. Some misunderstanding. Orlesians do so love to overexaggerate things.He exchanges a quick glance with Josephine, who now looks almost as confused as she does angry, and then reaches out to rest a hand on her shoulder.“We need to find the Inquisitor. One of these… people should know where he is.”As if on cue, a lady in an extraordinarily elaborate hat (even by Orlesian standards) suddenly turns toward them.“The Inquisitor? You are looking for the Inquisitor?”He lets Josephine step forward. “Yes. Do you know where we can find him?”She lets out a small giggle. “Oh, but of course! Though I hardly think it likely you will be able to see him. He has been taken to the prison!”
Maker’s balls.
But he tries not to let his shock and frustration show. Only clears his throat. “Thank you, madame. We will make an enquiry of the guards. Josephine?”“Josephine?”Another voice cuts through the hubbub of the market, and he turns to see Vivienne striding toward him, the crowd parting before her.
Thank the Maker.
“Madame de Fer!” Josephine greets her. “How wonderful to see you.”The whispering ebbs and flows around them as the bystanders attempt to both eavesdrop and gossip in turns, but he ignores them.“What happened?” he asks.Vivienne smiles. He recognises it from Halamshiral – a little too bright and effusive to look entirely natural on her face. “Not here, darling. Come, let’s discuss it somewhere quieter.”Without waiting for a response, she links arms with Josephine and turns, both of them striding back the way Vivienne had come.Glancing back at Nina and the soldiers, they follow after.A few minutes later, they find themselves at the gate of a small city gaol, guarded by two men who bar their path.“This is the Commander and Ambassador of the Inquisition,” Vivienne announces. “The Inquisitor is expecting them. Let us past.”The two guards exchange glances, clearly weighing up the possibility of getting in trouble should she be lying versus the possibility of getting in trouble should she be telling the truth. A moment later, they stand aside, allowing Vivienne to sweep imperiously past, the rest of them following in her wake.Within, another guard – some sort of captain by the look of the exaggerated plume on his helm – is seated behind a desk, a foot-high stack of paperwork before him and a weary expression on his face. Cullen is momentarily overwhelmed with empathy for the man before Vivienne speaks again.“Is the Inquisitor still down with… the prisoner?”Well, that’s encouraging. If Trevelyan is merely meeting with… well, it must be Blackwall, surely, and not arrested as an accomplice, perhaps they can yet survive this.The captain nods. “Oui. You will wait here, s’il vous plaît.”He doesn’t want to. He wants to go through the other door, down the staircase he can see through it, to where the cells presumably are. He wants to talk to Blackwall. To find out whatever the truth of the matter is, and how he is involved.But there is nothing for it.He waits.“What happened?” Josephine asks, in a hushed voice.“My dear, that is a very long story,” Vivienne replies. “But I suppose I should start at the beginning. We arrived in Val Royeaux late last night. The city was electric with gossip about the execution. Lieutenant Cyril Mornay has been in hiding for the last four years.”“We know all this,” he interrupts. “How is Blackwall involved?”Vivienne ignores him. “With no word from Leliana’s contacts about the current whereabouts of Blackwall, this morning, we attended the execution. The herald read the charges – the murder of General Vincent Callier, his wife, their four children and their retainers. A massacre of innocents. I remember hearing the news. My dear Bastien was a friend of the family, of course. I had met Lady Lorette on several occasions. A charming girl. The eldest of their children was barely ten at the time.”“Is this relevant, Vivienne?” he interrupts her again.She sighs. “I suppose not. It was a heinous crime to be sure, and the crowds were baying for Mornay’s blood. When asked if he had anything to say in his defence, he remained silent. The noose was around his neck when, out of nowhere, another man ascended the gallows. Blackwall. Trevelyan attempted to intervene, but the man declared that Warden Blackwall – the true Warden Blackwall – has been dead for years. In truth, the man we knew is none other than Thom Rainier, the traitor who gave the order.”
Maker’s breath…
The thought had crossed his mind once or twice on their journey, but he had dismissed it as ridiculous. That the quiet, modest warrior they all knew should even be capable of such a thing…One of Leliana’s contacts had brought them a report on the road. All that she was able to find out about Thom Rainier in the brief time allotted.Originating from Markham in the Free Marches, Rainier had distinguished himself in his youth by winning the melee at the Grand Tourney, and eventually found his way to joining the Orlesian Imperial Army. There, he had risen to the rank of captain, and had been well-respected. His soldiers had been devoted to him, and he to them.Until one day, he had taken a bribe from one of Grand Duke Gaspard’s allies to murder one of Empress Celene’s trusted generals.Lord Vincent Callier.From the testimony of those soldiers that were captured in the aftermath of the massacre, Rainier had told them that Callier was a threat to Orlais, a traitor to the Empress. He and all who travelled with him were to be ambushed and slaughtered, to protect the security of their country. They had no idea that they were the traitors, carrying out the perfidious plot. Nor were they told that the General’s young wife and four innocent children were also in the carriage. Their captain had told them that no one was to be spared, and so they had carried out their orders.Trusting that they were doing the right thing.That had sickened him when he read it. A little too close to home for his liking, bringing up unwelcome images of Kirkwall, the streets running red with mage blood in his nightmares.To hear that the man who had given such orders – and for nothing more than coin – was the same with whom he had shared mugs of ale, sparred on numerous occasions, entrusted the Inquisitor’s life…It doesn’t bear thinking about.Maker, he wishes Helaine were here. Here to be as horrified, as disgusted as he is. She can’t stand dishonesty.“Is it true?” he asks.Vivienne turns to him, a sadness in her eyes that he has rarely seen there. “Honestly, Cullen, I can’t think why he would lie about such a thing. Not when he had no other reason to come forward.”“I think I am going to be sick.”He turns suddenly to see Josephine, grey-faced, press a hand to her mouth. In the space of a heartbeat, Nina has her arm around the swooning woman.“A chair for the Ambassador, and a bucket, s’il vous plaît.”The captain moves considerably slower, but he does produce the requested items, and a cup of water besides. Nina remains, a stalwart guardian at her shoulder, while Josephine empties the meagre content of her stomach into the bucket.He turns away, more to protect her modesty than because it helps himself at all. Honestly, he doesn’t blame her. It might not be strictly common knowledge that Josephine and Blackwall – should he even call him that anymore? – had been… romantically involved, but it wasn’t entirely secret. Love letters, flowers, and hand-carved trinkets, leading to, well, things he didn’t usually want to think about, and certainly never wanted to think about now.Maker, the poor woman…“Where are Cassandra and Cole?” he asks, drawing Vivienne’s attention away.“Cassandra is down with the Inquisitor. She didn’t want him to question the man alone, for obvious reasons. Cole… Off doing Cole things, I assume. He was with us at the execution, but in the confusion after the arrest, he slipped away. Presumably he will pop up when least expected. He usually does.”Well, that makes sense at least. Unlike most of the other things he’s learned today.“How long have they been down there?”“A while. I imagine they have many questions.”“What’s going to happen next?”“That will depend upon his answers.”He nods. Maker, he finds himself overwhelmingly glad that he’s not in the Inquisitor’s shoes right now. The situation is near impossible.“The Orlesians want his head, I assume,” he says, carefully not looking at the captain, now back behind his desk and clearly pretending that he is alone in the room.Vivienne nods. “The crowd were all for hanging him right then and there, but Trevelyan refused to allow them. Stalked right up onto the gallows and insisted on the man having a fair trial. Though if he speaks the truth… I can’t imagine they will be happy to let us deal with him. The Empress has had a warrant out for his arrest and execution for years.”He can’t help but picture the sight of Trevelyan, ascending the gallows before a horde of screaming Orlesians. Thank the Maker that this had not happened back when the man was barely able to stand up to anyone, including his own council. How far he’s come since then…“This may take some careful diplomacy,” he notes quietly. “Or more reinforcements.”(Perhaps Helaine could bring them…)“It may be best to just let the Orlesians deal with it,” Vivienne replies, her voice dropped even lower than his. “No matter what part he has played in the Inquisition, they have the prior claim on his head.”“No!”Josephine’s voice is a little hoarse, and when they turn back to look at her, she looks somehow worse than before. Nina offers her the cup of water, and she drinks deeply before continuing.“Whatever he says, he is our responsibility now. He is a member of the Inquisition, even if he is not who we thought he was. We must be the ones to deal with him.”“My dear, that is up to the Inquisitor.”“What’s up to me?”Trevelyan’s voice near-echoes in the room somehow, and they all turn to look at him, just coming through the door. Cassandra’s hand is tight in his, and they both have exceedingly sombre expressions on their faces.The interrogation has not gone well, that much is clear.“Have you finished with the prisoner?” the captain cuts in before Cullen can speak.“For now, thank you,” Trevelyan responds. “We will need to talk to him further, but for now I must consult with my colleagues. Can you please ensure that he is kept safe until we return?”The captain wrinkles his nose a little. “If you insist, Inquisitor. You have my word he will not be harmed. Now, I have work to do.”Trevelyan nods. “We will leave you in peace.” Then he catches sight of Josephine, still quite pale, and the bucket in her hands. “Maker, Josephine, are you all right?”She manages a shaky nod. “Yes, Inquisitor.”He doesn’t look convinced, but he gives her a reassuring smile and then turns to Vivienne. “Vivienne, did you manage to find some lodgings?”“Yes, Inquisitor. A few rooms, not far from here.”“Good. Any sign of Cole?”“Not yet. But I’m sure he’ll find us.”He nods. “Then Cullen, do you mind helping Josephine? I’d rather discuss this in private. Captain Fontaine, thank you for your hospitality.”The captain only scoffs quietly.Between himself and Nina, they manage to get Josephine onto her feet and out the door. The fresh air seems to perk her up a little, though she is still evidently unwell.The lodging house is, as promised, not far. A sweet looking building with flowerboxes at the windows, and a kind-faced woman at the door, who shows them upstairs without comment.Josephine continues to be paler than she should be, leaning heavily against his arm as they accompany her to her room.“We’ll leave you be, Josephine,” Trevelyan tells her. “You need to rest.”She grimaces. “No, we must discuss the matter now. Captain… Fontaine, was it?”Trevelyan and Cassandra nod.“Captain Fontaine will not be able to maintain his safety indefinitely. If we are to intervene, we must do so as soon as possible.”“But-““Of all of you, I knew him best. I thought I knew him best. Do you not agree?”“But-““We will discuss it now.”“But-“Cassandra rests a hand on his shoulder. “If Josephine wishes to discuss it now, that is what we shall do, my love.”Josephine shoots her a grateful look, and they all follow her into the room.“So?” Cullen prompts, shutting the door behind himself when they are all settled. “What did… the man have to say for himself?”Trevelyan exchanges a solemn glance with Cassandra.“Unfortunately… quite a lot.”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Helaine
This is torture.Worse than torture.At least during torture she can let her mind go to that peaceful place where the pain doesn’t affect her. But now, she is forced to remain all too present.The atmosphere in Skyhold is the strangest she has ever felt it.The Inquisitor being gone is almost expected at this point. His sojourns at Skyhold are squeezed tighter and tighter as the pressures on his time become greater and greater.That Rutherford is gone makes things a little stranger, but it has happened before.But Josephine?Unheard of.Blackwall’s disappearance becomes common knowledge within a day of their departure. And there is nothing bored, trapped people like better than to gossip. Rumours swirl all around the fortress; more and more each day.She half-wishes that she could hide away, but with Rutherford gone, she takes the opportunity to implement more full army drills. Should something go badly wrong and the Inquisition be forced to march against Orlais, they will be ready.As for the rest, she tries to keep her routine as normal as possible.Tricky, without Rutherford, but she must learn to live without him.
Andraste’s freckled tits.
She wishes that Blackwall had not disappeared when he did. That he had not disappeared at all, honestly, but his timing had been impeccably terrible.Why had she pushed him like that?Rutherford.It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Forcing him to confront a part of her past that she reviled. Hoping, foolishly, that it might make him think twice about wanting… wanting her. When it had backfired, she had pushed him into that stupid argument, and then…
“Can you just tell me what you want?”
His voice rings in her head at the most inopportune moments. The way he had said it too. Not demanding, not exasperated. Just… curious. A little confused, even. As if, no matter what her answer was, he would have accepted it.Which he would have.Damn it.The news about Cosette should have made her happy. Should have placed her in high spirits for at least a day or two. But all she could think about was Rutherford. And then…Blackwall.Whatever had happened, she cannot imagine it will have a happy ending. Especially given the abruptness of his departure, and his lies to Josephine. Unless his ‘warden business’ involves invoking the Right of Conscription on this Mornay person.Though why he would do such a thing, she cannot fathom.“Commander?”Bethy’s voice breaks through her reverie, and she glances up from the training notes she had been failing to compile to find her smallest apprentice standing before her.“Yes, Apprentice?”She settles into that imitation of parade rest she has adopted since coming to Skyhold. “Permission to ask you a question, Commander?”“Go on.”“Commander Cullen’s gone. And Lady Josie. And everyone’s grumpy about the Warden, but when I asked what happened, everyone says they don’t know.”“I do not hear a question, Apprentice.”“Are they coming back?”It is not the question she was expecting, and it takes a moment to think of an appropriate answer.“They will come back once they find out what has happened.”“But when?”“Apprentice.” She puts a slight note of warning into her tone.Though she likes Bethy, and sees rather more of herself in her than she ever would have expected of a small, blonde, human child, she must learn her place. And her place is not to whine about impossible answers to questions she does not need to ask.Bethy’s shoulders fall. “Sorry, Commander. It’s just…”“Just what?”“Just… you’re sad, Commander. Ever since Commander Cullen left. You keep snapping at everyone, even Captain Katia, and you keep looking at the door and frowning, and you were supposed to come and see the lesson this afternoon, and you didn’t come!”The words fall out quickly, as if she wishes to spill them all before Helaine stops her. Instead, however, she finds herself struck quite dumb.It has only been three days since he… since they left.She cannot have been that different since then, can she?But thinking back…“Your first barrier lesson.”Bethy nods, and Maker’s turgid cock, there are tears collecting at the corners of her eyes.“I made one, Commander!” she continues, unabashed. “Not for more than a moment, but it counts! Enchanter Sylvie said it counts! But you weren’t there.”
Damn it.
The barrier lessons had been her idea. Teaching physical barriers didn’t usually start until relatively late in an apprentice’s training. Protecting themselves was not considered as important as learning to brew potions and do small, carefully controlled pieces of magic that were barely more than parlour tricks.But, after consultation with Katia, Nina and various other senior mages, she had proposed to Fiona that learning to manifest a barrier was a sensible, safe way of helping young mages to build their stamina. The sooner they began to practice, the more control they would be able to exert over themselves later on.Too late to aid in the fight against Corypheus, but – Maker willing – it would have lasting benefits to a mixed specialisation army.And if she is to have a legacy, she would wish it to be that.When Bethy had heard about it, she had insisted on being part of Enchanter Sylvie’s first class.And now Helaine had missed it.Her shoulders fall.“My apologies, Apprentice. I should have been there. It had… escaped my attention.”Bethy pouts a little again, her chin jutting forward. “That’s okay, Commander. I know what it’s like to miss someone. You’re just sad, aren’t you?”She has never been good with the younger apprentices, but there is something about Bethy that she just… cannot resist. The girl makes her feel…Not maternal. She has never had any desire for children. Not that they were allowed in the Circle, but that had not stopped everyone. Seeing those other women’s bellies swell in the Circle had never given her any emotion other than a vague pity for the child that would result. A child who, like her, would never have the opportunity to know their parents.Just another casualty of the Circle system.Perhaps something else that could change if the next Divine – whoever she might be – had the strength and conviction to revolutionise such a system.But not for her.If Bethy had been a screaming infant, she is certain that she would have no patience for her whatsoever, but she is old enough to be interesting. Old enough to be… compelling.And she cannot deny the pull that she feels toward her. Has felt since the moment Rutherford brought Helaine to her.Whatever it is.“You still have my apologies, Bethy. Commander Rutherford is away on Inquisition business. I should not neglect my business on his account.”Bethy nods. “The second lesson is next week. You’ll be there for that, right? Even if Commander Cullen isn’t back and you’re still sad?”“Even then,” she promises.Bethy smiles, everything forgiven, in that way of children.Well. Some children.The door opens again, revealing one of Leliana’s runners, a note in his hand.“Commander?”

Commander Helaine,

Please join me in the War Room at your earliest convenience.

Leliana

Maker’s hairy balls… That is unlikely to be good news. The fact that Leliana has not come to find her herself suggests at least that it is not the worst kind of news. It is unlikely that anyone has perished. But there are a great many things between good news and death.“I will attend her immediately,” she tells the runner, who darts off again.Bethy looks worried, but Helaine rises from her chair, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly.“Go and do your practice. I will come and find you later, and I expect to see your workbooks. Is that understood, Bethy?”The girl nods, a little dour, but resigned to her fate. “Yes, Commander.”Helaine leaves the Mage Tower, crossing the keep as quickly as she can. When she reaches the war room, Leliana is already inside, leaning heavily against the table. A slip of paper is on the table between her hands, her focus on the trio of markers atop Val Royeaux.Bad news then. As expected.“What happened?”Leliana makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a scoff, lifting her head slightly to peer out from under her hood.“Blackwall is Thom Rainier.”He is… what?She frowns. “I… do not understand.”“Blackwall. Is. Thom Rainier,” she repeats, with a touch more force, and a raspingly bitter tone to her voice. Like each word pains her to say it.“But… how?”“He lied. He was lying all along. And I did not realise it.”This makes even less sense. Everyone knows that, while only the Maker can know everything, Leliana knows almost as much. She has a way of looking at you as if she can see through your very soul. It seems incomprehensible that someone – especially someone who has been as close to Trevelyan as Blackwall has been – could have concealed such a thing from her.“Do we know anything more?”Leliana picks up the note and thrusts it at her.

Blackwall IS Rainier. More to follow.

She recognises Trevelyan’s handwriting, which tells them less than nothing about Rutherford and Josephine. Evidently they did not intercept him before Val Royeaux. Anything could have happened to them.Though she had sent Nina in the party, the best way she could protect them without being there herself, the woman is not invulnerable.What was the last thing she said to him?Make haste?He left thinking she did not…No.Do not think that way.“Then what do we do next?”Leliana glances up again, a gleam in her eyes that Helaine… does not like at all. Then she reaches to one side of the table, where a wine bottle sits.“Now? We drink.”

Cullen
When Trevelyan has finished relating the main points of his interrogation – if you could call it that – Cullen feels somehow even angrier.He had presumed that Blackwall was an assumed name. That the man had come across the story of a fallen Warden and taken the name as a disguise. The Wardens are a mysterious and limited group. One lone man making that claim, wandering around the Frostbacks and Hinterlands fighting demons and protecting people, would likely not stir many suspicions.But that Blackwall was a… a friend? Who had travelled with Rainier and attempted to induct him into the Order?It makes him feel sick. Another crime to add to his list, another act for which the man surely must be punished, must atone. But it also confuses him yet further. It truly seems like there are two people in Black… in Rainier’s body. The vile traitor who could have committed such heinous acts, and the valiant champion who had caught Leliana’s attentions at the founding of the Inquisition.How can they be one and the same?He glances to Josephine. Though she had rallied a little when they arrived at the lodging house, the more Trevelyan imparted about Black… about Rainier’s answers, the greyer she had become again. Tears had collected in her eyes again at Trevelyan’s description of Rainier’s state of mind, the vehemence with which he had asked Trevelyan to leave him to his fate, but she steadfastly refused to sob the way he thinks she might want to.Though his two soldiers have been stationed outside the room, guarding it from any would-be eavesdroppers, Nina remains within, a steady presence at Josephine’s side.Did Helaine… ask her to do that? It would make sense. Of all the people involved in this, it’s clear that Josephine would need the most… emotional support, as well as physical. Besides, they are friends, after a fashion.It would make sense.He catches Nina’s eye and the mage straightens her spine a little, her hand tightening a touch on the post of Josephine’s bed.“How do we know that Rainier didn’t kill the real Blackwall?” he asks, turning back to a now silent Trevelyan. “He claims it was an ambush, but we have no evidence of that.”“Why would he confess to the murder of the Calliers, and not to that of the Warden?” Cassandra asks. “He would have nothing to gain by hiding such a thing. The Orlesians already want his head.”She makes a good point.Even so, he can’t help the grimace that comes over his face. “What he did to the men under his command was unacceptable. He betrayed their trust, betrayed ours. I despise him for it.” He takes a deep breath. “And yet, he fought as a Warden. Joined the Inquisition. Gave his blood for our cause. And the moment he shakes off his past, he turns around and owns up to it. Why?”“He wanted to change?” Trevelyan suggests. “To prove that he’d really left his past behind, he had to face up to it.”“Saving Mornay the way he did took courage. I’ll give him that.”Trevelyan nods, glancing around the room. “He wants to die. He told me that he’s a monster, and he deserves it. But… it feels strange to just abandon him. Until this morning, he was one of us, part of the Inquisition.”“Black… Rainier might have accepted his fate, but you don’t have to,” Cullen points out. “We have resources. If he’s released to us, you may pass judgement on him yourself.”“If it were up to you, what would happen? All of you. Any of you.”Cassandra clears her throat. “He wants to die, that much is clear. But we should not be so hasty. You have not sentenced anyone to death yet. I do not believe you wish to start now.”Trevelyan gives her a small smile, and then reaches out to squeeze her hand. “Thank you. Vivienne?”She sits back in her chair. “That may as be, but they do have the prior claim on his head. It may not be… diplomatically astute to deny them their justice. Leaving him to their punishment is not the same as sentencing him yourself.”Trevelyan nods. “Still… If there’s something I can do…” He turns to Josephine, still huddled, grey-faced and tear-stained on the bed. “Josephine… I hate to ask you, but… You… What do you want me to do?”She remains silent, her eyes drifting closed for a near-eternal moment before she responds.“I want to talk to him myself.”He looks to Trevelyan, but the man is already exchanging a silent conversation with Cassandra. One that neither of them seem to be winning, based on the expressions on both their faces.Should he say something?Perhaps not.“Mockingbird, mockingbird, quiet and still, what do you see from the top of that hill?”Cole’s sing-song voice near-echoes around the room, and he nearly flinches out of his skin as he notices the boy lurking in a corner of the room that he swears had been empty not two minutes before.However, it neatly distracts them all from the matter of Josephine talking to… the man.“Cole?” Trevelyan asks, standing up. “Where have you been?”The spirit boy peeks out from under his hat, his head tilted quizzically to one side as he continues his song.“Can you see up? Can you see down? Can you see the dead things all about town?”Is this a genuine song, or one of his cryptic little riddles? He has no idea. It’s not one he recognises, but he can’t claim to be any sort of expert on children’s songs.“Too many voices in the carriage. Maker, they're young…”“Rainier?” Cassandra asks. And then, with a frown. “Cole, did you know?”Maker’s breath. He hadn’t even considered that. The spirit boy has been known to say things that imply an otherworldly level of knowledge, but he had never really considered him as a credible source of information…“Everyone hides dead things,” Cole says. “Everyone pretends. He wanted to fix it.”“Cole, you should have told someone,” Cassandra says softly.The spirit boy tips his head up, his eyes still shadowed. “But everyone tells me to keep their secrets. To get out of their heads. How do I tell what’s allowed?”“There’s a difference,” Cassandra starts, but Trevelyan clears his throat.“He does have a point, my love.”“Ugh.”“He was a murderer,” Vivienne points out. “What confusion can there be?”“He didn't want to be,” Cole insists. “He made a new him. He is Blackwall. He killed Rainier. He would stand between Rainier and the carriage. But he can’t. It doesn’t work like that. So he carries the bodies to remember.”“Everyone hides things,” Cullen ventures, trying not to wonder how much the spirit boy knows about him. Likely far more than he would be comfortable being made common knowledge. “Who among us doesn’t carry regrets?”“I think we need to bring him back to Skyhold,” Trevelyan declares. “It’s the right thing to do. Josephine, you can talk to him as much as you wish. We can take our time, give him a fair trial.”“The Orlesians won’t like it,” Vivienne notes coldly.“We can storm the prison with a small force and take Rainier into our custody,” Cullen suggests. “Val Royeaux's prison guards will oppose us; we should be prepared for casualties.”But Josephine shakes her head. “I can request a special dispensation from the Orlesian throne, allowing him to be transferred to Inquisition custody. This may anger some, but after Halamshiral, they owe us a favour.”Trevelyan gives him an apologetic look. “I prefer Josephine’s plan. The less bloodshed, the better. We can’t afford to anger the Empress. Especially when we might be so close to the end of all this. We’ll need their help when the final battle comes. Josephine, would you mind doing that today?”She nods.“Then do it. Thank you.”*No reply returns that day. Or the next.They all become progressively more anxious as the crowds outside the prison grow. Captain Fontaine is forced to keep an increased guard on the door at all hours, true to his word that Rainier would remain safe in his custody.They are left with little to do but wait.Trevelyan and Cassandra spend most of their time in the lodging house, being the most recognisable members of the Inquisition. The few times they venture out, they are all but mobbed by ‘concerned’ citizens, desperate to insinuate themselves into the situation.Josephine stays too, despite wishing that she could do more to help. To make introductions and connections, both for this situation and for the Inquisition at large. But she is still working through her heartbreak, her anger, and Trevelyan doesn’t think it wise that she and Rainier have their discussion until things are… settled.Vivienne takes her place instead, visiting various contacts and doing… whatever it is that she does. He isn’t sure and doesn’t want to ask.Cole, likewise, does whatever it is that he does. He appears at unpredictable intervals, often with a gift for Josephine. A bouquet of yellow flowers, a book of children’s stories, a slice of sticky chocolate cake... Anything to make her smile for a moment.Which leaves him.He doesn’t know what to do. Any suggestion of raiding the prison and demanding Rainier back by force is swiftly refused by Trevelyan. And what other use does he have in such a situation?Luckily, just by exchanging his fur-trimmed mantle for a plain green cloak and simple mask borrowed from the proprietress of the lodging house, he manages to become entirely anonymous. Unrecognisable.Not that there is much he wishes to do in Val Royeaux.If Helaine had come instead of him, she would have known what to do. She certainly has contacts here. At the very least, she would be an able colleague to Vivienne. Not uselessly wandering about the city, listening to the gossip of the passers-by as if that’s important work.And then, on the third day…“I have a note just arrived for the Inquisition,” the proprietress greets him that morning, as he’s about to leave for another wander round the city. “You will take it, no?”His heart jumps. “Yes! Thank you.”It must be a reply from the Empress, he thinks, darting back up the stairs toward the Inquisitor and Cassandra’s room. They weren’t at breakfast, so he’s careful to knock.And wait.It takes a minute or so for the door to open, Trevelyan’s head poking out from the gap.“Oh!” He turns back into the room. “It’s just Cullen.” He cracks the door open a little further, revealing Cassandra still in bed, a book in her hands that Cullen has a feeling she wasn’t holding a few moments ago.“Apologies for disturbing you, Inquisitor. Cassandra. This was just delivered.”He holds out the still folded note, almost holding his breath as Trevelyan unfolds and reads it. And then as he… frowns?
Maker’s breath.
Has the Empress denied them? Refused to release Rainier into their custody? Josephine is going to be devastated…Trevelyan glances back at Cassandra again. “Have we helped anyone called Cosette recently? I… I can’t remember.”Cassandra frowns, but the truth of the matter suddenly comes clear to Cullen.He can’t help but chuckle as he holds out his hand to get the note back.“Apologies again, Inquisitor. I believe that note is actually for me. Or… Helaine, rather. Commander Helaine. While you were in the Hissing Wastes, we had an emergency situation with one of her friends. Cosette. She was in danger and requested the Inquisition’s help. Given the time taken to get a bird to and from the Wastes…“Trevelyan smiles, handing the note back. “I’m glad. I trust you to make the right calls. And she’s safe, clearly, and grateful to the Inquisition. Excellent things.”“Who is?”Vivienne comes down the corridor from her room, curious for gossip as usual.“Cosette?” Trevelyan tells her, before he can get the words out. “A friend of Commander Helaine’s. Oh! Do you know her too? Apparently we saved her from some sort of mortal peril. Or our soldiers did, at any rate.”Vivienne plucks the note from his fingers before he has a chance to look at it himself.“How nice of us,” she says, almost absently, as she reads the note. “I should visit with her while we’re here. I do not believe she will able to help, but it’s been such a very long time since we’ve seen each other.” Then she glances up. “Cullen, you will attend with me.”He can’t help but reach up to rub the back of his neck, feeling awkward at the mere concept.“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”“Oh? Whyever not? Here, she thanks the soldiers of the Inquisition. Who better to accept such gratitude than their commander?”“Go on, Cullen,” Trevelyan says. “All we can do is wait for the Empress’ response. You might as well take the opportunity to go and bask in some gratitude. I thoroughly recommend it.”“But-““What’s wrong?”It seems impossible to explain that he doesn’t feel completely comfortable talking to one of Helaine’s friends, especially one so close as Cosette obviously is. Especially when he is currently in such a state of confusion over his own friendship with Helaine. If only Helaine had come instead…But if he can’t explain that, he just looks like a discourteous bastard to refuse.“If we receive word on the dispensation while you’re gone, we can send a messenger for you,” Trevelyan adds, as if that might be the problem. “We’ll likely need your glowering face to make sure that Captain Fontaine follows the Empress’ decree. Go on.”“Can I see the note first?” he asks, stalling for a little more time.Vivienne hands it back.

Inquisitor,

Please accept my most grateful thanks for sending your soldiers to aid in my rescue.

I will be stationed in Val Royeaux for the time being. If I can assist in your current situation, you have only to ask, and I will do my utmost to balance the scales.

Cosette

Damn it. They should go and see her. Despite Vivienne’s dismissal, it would be helpful to have a powerful Knight-Enchanter (as she surely must be, being close friends with both Helaine and Vivienne) on his side should the dispensation be rejected. Certainly faster than waiting for reinforcements.“What’s the, uh… etiquette in these cases, Vivienne? Surely we can’t just turn up at her door, wherever that is.”“She will be stationed in the mage quarters in the Divine’s compound. None of us have returned to Montsimmard since the Circles fell, and she isn’t the sort to have a place of her own in the city. It should be little trouble for me to gain admittance.”“And me?”Vivienne waves her hand dismissively. “You will be with me. Besides, the Orlesians loved you the last time we were here, didn’t they? Turn on a little of that Halamshiral charm.”The memory makes his stomach twist, first at the image of the grasping courtiers, and then again, worse at the image of Helaine’s smile across the table while they were sharing that pastry.“First though, go and change that dreadful cloak and put down that ridiculous mask. You are the Commander of the Inquisition, not an Orlesian barrow boy.”Reluctantly, he goes.*The Divine’s compound is somewhere he assumed he would never have reason to visit. Even at the monastery while he was still a child, training to be a templar, he had never considered himself worthy of joining that hallowed company – the Knights Divine – who protected their holy leader.He certainly never imagined visiting it in his current guise – not as a templar, but the Commander of a still technically rival force.It is an extraordinarily strange feeling.Letting Vivienne lead the way, he tries not to stare too much. Difficult, when everyone they pass is staring at him. They walk through a maze of corridors, ending up in a small, quiet courtyard, deep within the buildings.“Wait here, my dear,” Vivienne says, gesturing to a cluster of benches surrounding a modestly sized fountain in the centre of the space. “I will be back shortly.”He wants to protest, but she’s flounced through a door and disappeared before he can get the words out. Though he could chase after her, he really doesn’t want to draw any more attention to himself than he already has.So he sits.And waits.A light breeze stirs the trees scattered through the space, and he tips his head back, gazing up at the perfect blue of the sky.Had Helaine ever sat here like this? Feeling the light and warmth on her face and listening to the water trickling through the sun-shaped bowls that make up the fountain?He hopes so.Time passes – he can’t be certain how long – and then he hears someone delicately clearing their throat behind him.Immediately, he jumps up, already trying to think of excuses and explanations for his presence here, so deep inside the Chantry’s territory. Instead, however, he finds Vivienne standing next to a tall, dark-haired woman in enchanter robes of deep red. A smile is playing around her lips.Cosette?He rubs the back of his neck, unable to restrain himself.“Apologies, ladies. Were you waiting?”“No matter,” the woman says, with a soft, nearly imperceptible Orlesian accent. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Commander Rutherford. I hear I have you to thank for my rescue.”Definitely Cosette then. He bows his head for a moment, gathering his wits and, again, wishing that it was Helaine here instead of him. Or with him.Not that that’s something he’s allowed to wish for.Not anymore.“It was really Commander Helaine’s doing,” he insists. “I only supplied the soldiers.”Another smile crosses her face, this time exchanged with Vivienne. As if they are sharing a secret that he’s certain he doesn’t want to ask about.“Would you like to sit?” he asks, attempting to distract them.Cosette shakes her head. “No, come, let us have some tea. It is not every day that I can claim to entertain the Commander of the Forces of the Inquisition, and the Enchanter of the Imperial Court. I must make the most of it.”Without waiting for a response, she and Vivienne turn back toward a door behind them, and he has to slightly scramble to follow.They quickly end up in a sitting room, simply but tastefully decorated in the Chantry colours. A tea tray is already set upon a delicate side table, and Cosette waves them both toward the seating area while she deals with the refreshments.He can’t tell whether Vivienne is familiar with the room, or just possessed of that specific kind of confidence that makes her capable of swanning into an unfamiliar space and draping herself languorously across a sofa. But given that neither of those things apply to him, he just sits gingerly in the most sturdy looking of the armchairs.“So, darling,” Vivienne prompts as Cosette joins them. “What mortal peril did our brave soldiers rescue you from?”Cosette briefly explains the situation, just as Helaine had explained it to them in the war room. The documents, the pursuit, the infiltration, the distraction that never came… Vivienne listens with polite attention, sipping her tea.“Thank the Maker that my message got through,” she finishes, popping a delicate little biscuit-thing into her mouth. “I was afraid that the venatori might have intercepted it also.”“Helaine was concerned that it had taken too long to get to us,” he reveals, feeling the need to add to the conversation. “That it might already be too late. Luckily, Lieutenant Mallory was already relatively close by.”Unfortunately, this has the effect of drawing Cosette’s attention toward him.“Commander Rutherford…”He swallows. “Yes?”She smiles, exchanging another incomprehensible glance with Vivienne, before she continues.“Helaine has spoken of you, in her letters. A thorn in her side, an ice chip down her back… She has many lovely descriptions of you.”His heart sinks, but Cosette isn’t finished.“My particular favourite, however? A competent chess opponent.”He frowns. “That’s hardly surprising. We play chess together quite often.”Cosette’s smile broadens, which he doesn’t like at all, and Vivienne laughs quietly.“What?”“My dear, I can count on one hand the number of people Helaine enjoys playing chess with,” Vivienne explains. “Enjoys, that is. She will play with me to pass the time. To have something to do with her hands while I attempt to gossip with her, but she doesn’t seek me out to play. Not like she does you.”Even though he’d known that, though she’d told him such on multiple occasions, it still hits him somewhere deep and uncomfortable.“She is my friend,” he insists quietly. “And only that. Only… that.”Cosette lifts an eyebrow. “Oh?”He swallows again. He can’t tell them. He can’t betray Helaine’s confidence like that. No matter how much he’d appreciate hearing some advice from these two women, two of Helaine’s oldest and closest friends, he just…Can he?“She…”Cosette offers him the plate of delicate little biscuit-things with an encouraging look. “Go on.”“She… She… I…” He stutters over his words, not knowing how to even start. It’s too… big. There’s just too much context to explain over tea and delicate little biscuit-things.Vivienne leans forward. “He’s in love with her. And the feeling is quite mutual, I assure you.”“No, it isn’t.”Cosette lifts her eyebrow again, and he just… speaks.“She told me to stop. To stop looking at her as if we had a future together. She told me the story of how she first manifested her magic, thinking to make me horrified. That it would stop me… wanting her. All she wants is to be friends. And nothing more.”Vivienne and Cosette exchange another glance, and then Vivienne leans over, patting his knee genially. “With all due respect, my dear, don’t be ridiculous. You’re smarter than that.”“She was perfectly clear, Vivienne.”“Oh, I have no doubt. But for such an incredibly valiant and courageous woman, our darling Helaine has one very slight, but very sensitive weak spot.”“Her heart,” Cosette chimes in.“Her…”“Small and vulnerable. Hard-won, and easily bruised,” Vivienne adds. “So she prefers not to expose it at all. But you, you managed to find your way into it, and now she’s trying to force you out before you hurt her.”“I…” But he can’t finish the sentence. “If she doesn’t want me in her heart, that’s her business.”Vivienne leans back again the arm of the sofa. “She trusts you.”“To have her back in a fight. To listen to her on the training field. To challenge her at chess.”“She’s never told me the story of the first time she manifested her magic.”That surprises him, just a little, but he doesn’t show it. “She told me that thinking to horrify me.”“She still trusted you with it,” Cosette notes. “And of her own free will, I assume. You did not press her for it.”He shakes his head. “Never.”“Then you are a better person than me.”“I don’t understand.”She leans back in her armchair. “It was a dark and stormy night. One of our first assignments together. We were crossing the border between Nevarra and the Free Marches, near Tantervale. I knew she haled from Wycombe. Knew she had been brought to Orlais as an elven slave. But the full story remained a mystery to me. She had never spoken of it. I believe very few were aware. The First Enchanter, of course, holds all such stories in the Circle records, and likely some had heard when she first arrived, but it is not a subject that many mages wish to dwell on. Nor one happily revisited.”“I know. I was a templar.”“I am aware,” Cosette says, with slight bow of her head. “But a templar’s experience of the Circle is quite different to a mage’s. In any case, it was a dark and stormy night. We were huddled under our cloaks, accompanying a small party of soldiers. A stream divided the territory between Nevarra and the Free Marches. As we approached, I noted no difference in Helaine’s temperament, but once we had forded it, she became very… quiet. Not in the sense of speaking, but…”“I know what you mean,” he says. “That stillness she has. Making herself smaller and less conspicuous without so much as changing her posture.”Cosette beams at him, and there is a certain smugness about Vivienne’s expression too.“Of course, once we stopped to rest for the night, I asked her if she was well. If being back in her homeland was agreeable to her. I had expected her to be happier, not more distressed. At first she refused to speak, but I pressed. And pressed. I would not let her sleep without telling me. I framed it as wishing to know the truth, should there be any issue with our assignment, but really, I was just as curious as the proverbial cat. Eventually, she told me the tale. The man. The ship. The auction.” She glances at Vivienne, who makes a dismissive hand gesture. “The rest,” she finishes, obfuscating the truth of the matter.“Were you horrified?” he asks. It would explain a lot.“Horrified is not the term I would have used, but I was… taken aback. You did not know Helaine when she was young. Neither of you. She was… not at all the person she is today. Small, yes. But not so strong. Dedicated, but not so fierce. No one would have expected the child I once knew could become a Knight-Enchanter. Could become the Commander Helaine you see now. Hers was a crucible of fire. Hearing that she had been capable all along of defending herself, that she knew all along how to…”“She was a child,” he interrupts, before she can say too much.Something is lingering in Cosette’s eyes, something dark and guarded. She knows things that he does not. Which is only right. He hadn’t been there in Montsimmard when they were growing up. Nor had Vivienne, who he knows had only been transferred there at the age of nineteen. Of course Cosette has a wealth of history about Helaine that he doesn’t.And he shouldn’t.“Let’s not talk about this anymore,” he says, holding up a hand. “We… Helaine wouldn’t like us talking about her. Sharing her secrets.”“She would not,” Cosette agrees. “Where is she? I am surprised she did not insist on accompanying you, no matter how little she likes Val Royeaux.”“I must admit, I too am surprised,” Vivienne notes. “Did you pull rank, Commander?”He can feel his ears going red. “No. Ah… I think that was my fault. I volunteered her to go before she came up with it herself.”Vivienne laughs gently. “That would do it.”Cosette smiles. “I am glad that her new position has not changed her so much. I was worried that she might be… bored.”“She said,” he tells her, deciding that Helaine won’t mind if he does. “But she found her place.” He can’t help but smile, mostly to himself. “Carved it out herself. Much against my will, to begin with. But she showed me how wrong I was.”Vivienne and Cosette exchange yet another glance. He tries his best to make his expression neutral again, but there are too many pleasant memories of Helaine swirling inside his head.He needs to get out of this situation, this sitting room.Not that he actually knows how to do that. Practically, he means. Vivienne had led him through a maze of corridors, and he’s completely certain that he wouldn’t be able to figure his own way back out. It would be just his luck to end up somewhere forbidden by accident.The Inquisition certainly can’t afford any more diplomatic incidents at the moment.“Perhaps you would like to catch up further without my presence?” he ventures. “If one of you would show me out of the compound?”Cosette smiles. “It would be my pleasure, Commander Rutherford. But before you leave, I wonder if I might beg a favour? A little forward of me, I know, given all the help you have already offered.”“Anything for a friend of Commander Helaine,” he tells her honestly. “If it is within my power to give. What is it?”“Well, I have a letter…”

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

Helaine
When word arrives that the Empress has granted a dispensation, allowing the Inquisition to claim judgement over Thom Rainier, the fortress somehow gets even louder with gossip and rumours. It does not help that they are still flush with Orlesian guests, most of whom were at least passingly acquainted with Lord and Lady Callier and the story of the massacre.It still baffles her that no one knew the truth. Even had an inkling of it.Leliana especially. Had she not travelled with a pair of Grey Wardens for a year? He must surely have covered his tracks well to hide that he was not truly one of them.And Josephine…Josephine is one of the strongest, most intelligent, most capable women she knows, but there is no doubt in Helaine’s mind that she was unaware of Rainier’s true identity. There is no possibility that she would have put the Inquisition in such danger. Nor herself.She knows the pain of discovering that someone you cared for was not who you thought they were. For her, it was not so sudden, nor so public, thank the Maker. Still. It hurts, but far worse than that, it makes you doubt yourself. How could you have missed such things? How could you have fallen for their lies?What else have you missed?At least now they know that Josephine, Cullen and Nina had reached Val Royeaux. Too late to stop Rainier from announcing himself quite so melodramatically, but in time to help the Inquisitor to save his life.Personally, she is not entirely certain which way her vote would have been cast, but it seems Trevelyan is set on him returning to Skyhold for a fair trial.Though whether a fair trial is possible, given the outrage already bubbling through Skyhold, is yet to be seen. She assumes that Val Royeaux must be worse, and there is a long and well-travelled road between the two.They are going to have to keep the man under careful guard until the Inquisitor declares what is to be done with him. And after, most likely, if the punishment is not to be death. She cannot imagine that it will be. If the Inquisitor – or Josephine – wanted him dead, it would be far easier to let the Orlesians do it.Surely?Still, it keeps her awake long into the night.But it is not the only thing that keeps her awake long into the night.She misses him.No matter how much she tries not to. How much she tries to put him from her mind, to focus on her work and her responsibilities and her day-to-day routine, there is an empty space, shaped curiously like a tall man in a ridiculous, fur-trimmed cloak.
Damn it.
She is taking yet another drill when the note arrives, brought to her by Leliana herself. It seems like the Spymaster is enjoying a little more fresh air these days.That, or the guests’ gossip is getting too much even for her.More likely.She gestures to Katia and Briony, and they take over supervising the drill while she strides swiftly over to the gate.“Good news?” she asks, not waiting for Leliana to greet her.In answer, she holds out a slip of paper.

On our way home. Expect us by the end of the week. Prepare a cell.

Unsurprisingly, it is Trevelyan’s sigil, his handwriting, but the tone is more subdued than usual. Also unsurprising, really.She has seen the man conducting his judgements, and it is clearly his least favourite part of his job. After the events at Adamant, he had refused to execute Ser Ruth, despite her pleas for him to do so, reluctantly sending her to serve and eventually die in the Deep Roads instead. He had armed an avvar chief and sent him and his clan to Tevinter to act as an agent of the Inquisition for the ‘crime’ of avenging his son’s death. The last she had witnessed had been him sending Grand Duchess Florianne to a rural chantry to live in quiet prayer and seclusion for her treachery against her cousin.But he had not known any of those people. Had not fought beside them. Camped beside them. Eaten the food that they had cooked and drunk the potions they had handed him.It is quite a singular experience.And she worries about which way his judgement will fall.Nonetheless.She looks up at Leliana again. “Do you have scouts on the road?”“Of course. And more to be sent now. Might I request a unit of soldiers in addition?”She nods, gesturing to Briony, who is pretending not to be watching them instead of supervising the drill as she should be. And pretending badly at that. The Knight-Captain could use a lesson or two in subterfuge.Not her responsibility.“Inform Judex that they are required for emergency deployment. They will be accompanying Lady Nightingale’s scouts to meet the Inquisitor’s party.”Briony’s eyes widen a touch, but the rest of her face remains neutral. “Yes, Commander. Now?”“Now.”She dashes off to follow her orders, and Leliana delicately clears her throat.“Judex?”“They are ready and available. And it seemed… appropriate,” Helaine admits.She and Rutherford had argued long and hard about how to designate the initial mixed mage and non-mage units. The regular units were numbered, but he felt it best that the new, multi-speciality companies should be differentiated. She had argued that othering them would only lead to separation in the ranks, the opposite of her intention.After a great deal of heated discussion, she had agreed to keeping them officially numbered, but allowing him to designate nicknames for their first twelve units. He had argued for naming them after chess pieces, but they were naturally limited in number, and formed a misleading hierarchy. She had suggested colours, but he considered this too dull.Eventually, they had settled on constellations.And naturally, within a week, the nicknames were the only designation still used.“The sword of mercy,” Leliana notes. “Very much so.”*Frequent notes from both birds and scouts keep them well-informed of the Inquisitor’s progress from Val Royeaux to Skyhold. It helps as much as it makes her anxious.She needs to face Rutherford sooner or later. Needs to reassure herself that they can still be friends. Can still work together. For now, at least. But somehow, it seems like every step he takes closer, her stomach clenches yet tighter.When the bells ring, exactly at the expected time one afternoon, she considers lingering on the battlements, just as she had done when he returned from the Shrine. But when she glances down from the Mage Tower, she sees Leliana descending the steps to the lower courtyard.Even from this distance, she can see the tension in the woman’s shoulders, in the too-stiff line of her back. Though the Inquisitor’s other companions soon join her, clustering around the portcullis, that tension does not dissipate.She must be brave. Must help her show a united front. Especially for the Inquisitor.So she goes.“Couldn’t he have picked a more atmospheric day for it?” Varric grumbles quietly as he steps to the side to make room for her. “In my version, it’s going to be early evening. Dark storm clouds overhead. A thin but penetrating rain, the better to hide Josephine’s tears.”“Stop.”She does not realise she is the one to have spoken until he looks up at her, eyebrow raised.“Sorry, Commander. Didn’t realise you had artistic opinions. Then again, you’re about as scary as my editor, so that tracks. Any other suggestions?”“You may write whatever you wish,” she says, grimacing. “But leave Josephine out of it.”For a moment, he looks like he is going to argue back, and then he nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right. This is supposed to be Firefly’s story anyway. Isn’t like I’ve got any shortage of material.”She frowns. “Firefly?”“Trevelyan.”“I know, but… firefly?”He shrugs. “I like nicknames. Fireflies are small bugs that light up. Glow. Like Trevelyan’s hand. Mostly found in dark and gloomy areas, but with a reputation for being cheery little things. It seemed to fit.”She cannot help but agree.The crowd builds steadily around them over the next few minutes. Not just the usual inhabitants of Skyhold, but a fair number of their guests too. All eager to see the Inquisitor’s arrival.It takes longer than usual.Even accounting for the larger party. A larger party than has returned to Skyhold since they had all returned from Halamshiral.As the minutes tick by, some of the spectators begin to grow restless. Rumours that have previously been quiet whispers swell to ever-louder conversations. A few snatches of less-than-flattering discussion reach her ears, but she actively tries not to listen to them, instead focussing her attention on the portcullis at the other end of the bridge.There must be some… problem, for it to take this long.She catches Leliana’s eye on Varric’s other side, casting her gaze down the bridge a little as if to say ‘should I investigate?’ but the spymaster shakes her head.No sooner does this exchange happen, than the portcullis begins to slowly lift.Her stomach clenches painfully, and her hand tightens on the spirit blade hilt at her hip. A comforting gesture as much as anything else. Prepared for whatever might meet her.The Inquisitor is at the head of the party, Cassandra at his side as usual. Behind them, Cole and Josephine. She strains a little to see if Josephine is showing any outward signs of distress, but she seems calm. Putting on a good show for the baying crowds, no doubt.Next, a cadre of scouts and soldiers. Most are in Inquisition colours, but there are a few in the uniform of the Orlesian Imperial Army. A condition of the Empress’ dispensation, no doubt. She spots Nina, toward the back. Marching as solemnly as any of the rest.In the midst of them, a pair of horses are pulling a wagon. Or, no… it is a cage on wheels. Just large enough for the occupant to stand.Rainier.As they draw closer, she catches sight of three more people on horseback at the back of the procession. Rutherford is easily recognisable, as is Vivienne, but the last person has their hood up, obscuring their face. Dark red Enchanter robes. Another one of the Empress’ people? It would not be out of the realm of possibility for her to insist on a magical leash for their prisoner, as well as the bars and chains.Hopefully not another Morrigan.The Inquisitor and Cassandra reach the courtyard, seemingly untroubled by the vast number of people waiting for them. The conversation grows ever louder, with several people calling out demands for gallows to be put up. One particularly outspoken gentleman yells for the Inquisitor to swing the sword himself, which only prompts a scowl from Cassandra.Finally, Trevelyan raises his hand.The courtyard falls silent.“I’m sure you are all eager for justice,” he starts, his voice echoing. “And I fully intend to serve it, but I also intend to give this man a fair trial. For that, I will require time. Time to talk to him, to consult with my advisors and companions. The judgement will be called when I am ready, and not before. If you wish to give evidence, please provide it in writing, and it will be reviewed. We will not be holding personal interviews. Thank you for your understanding.”He glances sideways at Cassandra, checking, and she nods.With that, the noise swells again, the guests conversing loudly about Trevelyan’s announcement, as if he is already out of earshot. She waits as the company dismount their horses, passing them off to the waiting stablehands. When Leliana steps forward, she follows.
“Welcome back, Inquisitor,” Leliana greets him. “I have prepared everything I could find out about the case. It is all waiting for you in the war room.”He nods. “Thank you, Leliana. I assume a cell has been prepared, as per my request?”“It has,” Helaine chimes in. “I have had some warding spells prepared for the bars. For his own protection,” she adds. “There are many here who would relish the chance to take their own justice rather than wait for yours.”“Thank you, Commander. If you could lead us there in a minute?”She turns to see Rainier being removed from his cage, thick manacles framing his wrists and ankles, with chains running between the two. So excessive that it must purely be for show. The man had lived here, in this fortress with full access to any number of people and secrets, for a year without taking a single step wrong.She cannot imagine that he would be so foolish as to attempt anything now.However, she does note that he cannot look in Josephine’s direction, nor her in his. They ignore each other so carefully that it almost appears to be choreographed.“We’re ready,” Cassandra says.Rutherford is still… somewhere else. With the soldiers, perhaps? The longer she can delay their meeting, the better, she selfishly thinks. And he cannot fault her for aiding the Inquisitor and their prisoner to his cell.It is in the dungeon beneath the keep. Which is rarely used, honestly. Currently entirely empty, but for a single guard, waiting should something happen and a cell be needed.Given his previous status as a member of the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle, the cell has been made as comfortable as feasible. She and Leliana had arranged for a cot to replace the mattress on the floor. A pair of warm blankets. A small table and chair. The necessary… facilities.Indeed, aside from the bars on the door and the crucial lack of freedom to come and go as he pleases, it is not distinctly worse than her own modest quarters.The prisoner seems understandably morose as they lead him down the stairs into the dungeon, but he balks at the cell.“This is too much, Inquisitor,” he says, head bowed. “If you don’t want to kill me now, one of the outer cells would have done. The basics. I don’t deserve more.”“Accept it,” Trevelyan tells him softly. “And if not for yourself, for Josephine.” He pauses. “You’re going to have to talk to each other sooner or later. I won’t give my judgement without it. Will you let me bring her down later?”He does not respond, only allowing himself to be let into the cell, have his manacles removed, and the door locked behind him.She checks the wards that she had had added to the bars, ensuring that they are still in place, and feels the reassuring hum of magic beneath her fingers. That done, she nods to the Inquisitor.“I’ll be coming back down here this evening, once I’ve had time to check in with Leliana. Rest. I know you can’t have got much in Val Royeaux, or on the way back here. So rest. Is that understood?”Rainier says nothing, still, but he sits down on the cot, and Trevelyan takes this as assent.When they emerge from the dungeon moments later, she finds Rutherford.Waiting.He looks… nervous. One hand on the hilt of his sword, the other reaching up to rub the back of his neck as he sees her. Trevelyan mutters an acknowledgement to him, but Rutherford barely registers it, his eyes only on her.She tips her head toward his tower, and he nods.They walk there side by side, in uncomfortable silence. Once or twice, she thinks he might be screwing up his courage to say something, but he stays quiet until they get to his tower, the door shut – but not locked – behind them.“Welcome back,” she says, hesitant, when he looks no closer to speech. “I have made a few changes to the training schedule, but we can discuss that later. You will want to be briefed by Knight-Captain Briony first.”His expression remains distant, and she wonders if he has actually heard her.“Rutherford?”“Please forgive me,” he says, barely above his breath, his gaze cast upward. She is uncertain if he’s speaking to her or the Maker, but either way, it worries her.“For what?” she asks.He looks at her again, his cheeks and ears colouring. She cannot help liking that his emotions so often show in his complexion. It makes reading him easier.“Explain,” she commands, when he does not.Another breath, and finally he speaks. “While we were in Val Royeaux, we received a note from… from Cosette. Thanking the Inquisition for our part in her rescue.”She frowns slightly, but remains silent, waiting for him to continue.“Vivienne insisted on going to visit her. And… and insisted on me accompanying her.”So, he had met Cosette. Not entirely unexpected. She was journeying back to Val Royeaux around the same time that they were chasing Rainier there. The Inquisitor’s presence in the city would have been well-publicised too. It would almost have been more strange if she had not reached out to them.Had they discussed her? Cosette knows many of her secrets. Not all, but close enough. Though she trusts her friend not to have revealed anything untoward, there are many innocent stories she might have told of their apprentice days that might have provoked such a reaction from him.“She is well, I presume.”“She’s here.”It takes her a moment to process his reply. That… makes no sense.“I do not understand.”His cheeks somehow redden further. “She… she asked me to bring you a letter, which I would have done. But then the dispensation came, and the Empress insisted on sending some of her troops to supervise the transfer back to Skyhold. Cosette came to the prison when we were arranging the paperwork for Rainier’s release, with a signed order from the Empress. Ordering her to also accompany us back to Skyhold. Honestly, I think Vivienne had something to do with it. But… she’s here. Didn’t you see her riding in with us?”The mage in the dark red robes…“I did not… recognise her.” And then, considering the matter more carefully. “Why did she not greet me herself?”He ducks his head a little. “Vivienne’s taken her for a quick tour of the castle. I was supposed to bring you to her balcony when you emerged from the dungeon. But… I wanted to talk to you first.”Her stomach clenches again.“About what?”“Warn you, I suppose. They have this… idea in their heads. About the two of us. I tried my best to dissuade them of it, to tell them that you’ve made up your mind and you don’t feel that way about me, which is completely reasonable, but…”He trails off, rubbing the back of his neck again. She almost wants to pull his hand away. He is going to rub himself raw if he carries on like this. But she does not.“They are both very stubborn, in their own ways,” she says instead. “I can handle it.”“You shouldn’t have to handle it.”“And yet, I do. I will. You do not have to join us, if you would prefer not to. Go and find Knight-Captain Briony. I will tell them that your duties superseded their wishes.”She is not imagining the look of relief that crosses his face then.“Thank you, Commander.”The use of her title hurts somehow, even though she had been the one to push him away.“Helaine,” she insists softly. “At least in private. I still… want to be your friend.”“Helaine,” he repeats. And then, awkwardly, “You’ve never called me Cullen.”The memory hits her painfully, like a blunted arrow between the ribs, and his expression all but crumples in response to hers.“You don’t-“ he starts.But she interrupts, “I did. Once.”His brow furrows. Thinking back through their many arguments, most likely. As if she would resort to calling him by his first name to win one of their frequent disagreements. But she closes one hand around her other wrist, and flicks her gaze up to the floor above them.“I don’t under…” Then he pales. “Wait. Maker’s breath. You did, didn’t you? I… I heard you.”Loath as she is to revisit this particular memory, she finds that she cannot help herself.“You did?”He nods, sheepish. “In my dream – the one you interrupted – the demon… it was Solona to begin with, and then it turned into you. You… calling my name. I’m sorry. I should have told you at the time, I just… I didn’t want to admit it.”This… reframes some of their subsequent interaction. Though part of her wants to change the subject, to leave, to forget this had ever happened, another, larger, part of her knows that they should discuss it. Only by bringing things out into the open can they be resolved.Yes, she realises how hypocritical she is being.“You… you consider me a temptation?”“Subconsciously. I’m sorry. As I said before, I don’t think I really have much control over that. But I’ll try. I’ll try to stop seeing you that way. And I promise you that I’d never act on it.”His expression is utterly sincere, and it hurts.
Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks.
Why can she not just trust him? Trust him to be her friend, and whatever more he might wish to be. To be her… partner. In peace, as well as war.But the words stick in her throat.And the moment passes.“Cosette and Vivienne will be wondering where you are,” he says softly, breaking the silence. “You should go. And I will go and find Briony, so you’re not lying when you tell them that that’s where I am.”She nods.And leaves.*Part of her wants to hide in the Mage Barracks, or the tent city, or any number of places that do not include Vivienne’s balcony. But that is childish and cowardly, and her friend had travelled a long way to see her. To see Skyhold.So she crosses the bridge to the keep, and climbs the stairs, passing through the library and up to the balcony.As Rutherford had suggested, they are waiting for her. Vivienne is draped over her usual chaise longue, with Cosette sprawled comfortably in one of the armchairs. At her approach, Vivienne gestures her into the other.“There you are, darling. I was just about to send a search party. Problems?”She shakes her head, sitting – much more delicately – in the remaining chair. “The cell is secure. No harm will come to Rainier until the judgement.”“Oh, that,” Cosette brushes her off. “No, no. Where is the delightful Commander Rutherford? He was instructed to bring you here promptly, but I see no sign of him! You haven’t locked him up in another of your cells, have you?”Her voice has a hint of that suggestive tone that Helaine hates, and she has reached the end of her patience already today.“Stop.”Cosette holds up her hands in mock surrender. “Touchy! I was only asking. Besides, I assume it is your quarters you would prefer to lock him up in. Or his own, perhaps… For easier access?”Her friend is trying to get a rise out of her, and that is the only reason that she manages to ignore her petty prodding.“Well, I see your sense of humour hasn’t improved.” She has a half-stifled smirk on her lips that Helaine recognises all too well. “Would you like to start with pleasantries, or should I get to the reason that I’ve come?”“You should know the answer to that. You did not come at the Empress’ order, I assume.”Cosette lifts her hand, tipping it one way and then the other. “That was Vivienne’s idea. But I did want to come. I wanted to see you. To see how you’re getting on here. I also wanted to find out what the Void you think you’re playing at.”Vivienne laughs gently, getting up from her chaise to pour them all wine. Much as Helaine wants to refuse a glass, she takes the one that Vivienne holds out to her. To have something to do with her hands if nothing else.“What do you mean by that?” she asks, keeping her voice carefully neutral. She can think of half a dozen things to which Cosette might be referring, though she has a sneaking suspicion which it will actually be.“Firstly, I do genuinely want to know where Commander Rutherford is. Did we scare him off?”She schools her expression again, though she’s half-certain that Cosette will be able to see through it. Of all the people she has ever met, Cosette knows her best.“He has been away for some time, and his second-in-command needed to brief him on the business of the army that he has missed.”This only makes Cosette smile. “You couldn’t have done that yourself? I hear you are co-commanders in all but name.”“I do not have dealings with those units that are purely non-mage soldiers.”“Ahh yes, I heard that you’ve been shaking things up around here. I can’t imagine that a templar was happy-““Former,” she interrupts, instinctively.“I’m sorry?”“He is no longer a templar. Not in any of the ways that count. He no longer belongs to the Order, no longer believes in their teachings, and he has not taken lyrium in over a year.”Cosette’s eyes widen, and then she glances over at Vivienne. “You didn’t tell me that!”“I… I didn’t know.”She sounds quietly furious about this, though whether it’s because there is some gossip that had eluded her, or that Helaine had not told her herself, she is not sure.“He has not made the knowledge… public,” she says, regretting her words. She should not have been the one to reveal such a secret. Especially to them. Especially now. If he wanted either of them to know, he would likely have told them himself. “Please, do not-”“Helaine,” Cosette interrupts. “We won’t tell anyone else. I promise. But this is… This is big. He truly… He takes nothing at all? Does he still have his abilities?”“He is a warrior, and only that. He cannot dispel magic, nor call down holy fire.”“You’re certain?”She nods, and Cosette’s eyebrows near disappear into her hairline.“And yet he fights? He fights you?”She nods again.“Then, Helaine, dearest… I don’t understand. You like him, that much was plain from your letters. You enjoy spending time with him. You actively seek to spend more and more of your life with him. He challenges you. He goes head to head with you, and yet he also seemed happy when he told us that you had forced him to let you carve out a space for yourself in the Inquisition, more than being just Inquisitor Trevelyan’s mentor. He is strong, and tall, and handsome. He puts your comfort above his happiness, I can tell that just by looking at him. And he cannot take away your magic. So why do you continue to deny yourself?”She has never hated her friend more than now. Cutting right to the quick of the matter without so much as a warning. Desperately, she glances to Vivienne, but the woman only leans back against the arm of her chaise, delicately sipping her wine. She will be of no help.“I… do not know.”“Helaine, he is not Moreau. You realise this, don’t you?”She cannot help her eyes going to Vivienne first, but the woman’s brow is only lightly furrowed. Confused. For all the power that she wields, she genuinely does not seem to know about this either. Unsurprising, really, given that only two people yet alive know the truth of the matter. But it seems that Cosette has not betrayed her.“He is not.”“Then why? Why deny yourself like this? And don’t say you don’t know. I know you do. You just need to say it.”She falls into silence, watching Helaine closely. Refusing to speak until she does. It takes a little while – long enough for Vivienne to finish her glass of wine and pour another. But finally…“This will end. When Corypheus is defeated, he will leave, and I will have to return to the Chantry. I will go back, and he will go… on.”Cosette exchanges a quick glance with Vivienne, who tips the glass toward her as if to say ‘you have the floor, my dear’.“That’s nugshit, Helaine. You are the Commander of the Mages of the Inquisition. Even if the Inquisition ends, there is no power in this world that would compel you to return to your old life, unless it was with your own permission. Maker’s cock, I’ve heard tell that the next Divine is going to be one of your new friends. You think she would force you to take assignments? You? When this is all over, you will be able to write your own destiny. And if that’s with him, it will be. So, come along. Dig deep. I know it’s there. Why aren’t you with him, the way he wants to be with you?”“You cannot know that. Any of that. If the Inquisition falls, if we fail…” She can feel the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes but she refuses point blank to let them fall. She will not cry in front of these women. She will not cry at all.“Helaine.”“Perhaps we could table this discussion for another time,” Vivienne says, and there is concern creasing her expression now.Damn it.Maker take them all.“No,” Cosette insists, leaning over toward her. “She’s almost there. Come along, Helaine. You know the truth. You know what I want to hear. Just say it, and then we can get to fixing it. You’re right. The Inquisition might fall. You might fail. You might die tomorrow. But that’s not what’s stopping you from pushing that man to his knees and letting him worship you the way he clearly wants to. So what is?”Finally, the words come unstuck. The words she has been denying herself for weeks. Months, even. Words that she hates, and has never willingly admitted to even once in her life.“I am… scared.”Cosette sits back, satisfaction painted loud across her face. “There we go. I knew you had it in you. Now. What are you going to do next?”“What can I do?”“Well, Cosette had quite a good suggestion,” Vivienne chimes in, smiling again behind her glass of wine. “Something about pushing him to his knees? Personally, I think he’d rather enjoy that. So would you.”“We cannot be distracted,” she says, voicing one of the many aspects of her fear. “We have a vital part to play. If the army is not ready when the Inquisitor needs it because we are too busy…”This provokes laughter, first from Cosette and then swiftly followed by Vivienne.“What is so funny?”“Oh, dearest,” Cosette starts, when she manages to take a breath. “I’ve only been around your Inquisition for a few days, but I hardly think you two are going to be the distraction. Have you met your Inquisitor? I swear our entire journey here I assumed he and Lady Cassandra were under some kind of magical curse that prevented them from being more than two steps apart. They spend more time touching each other than any couple I have ever encountered. And yet, they seem perfectly capable of leading your Inquisition. Lady Josephine was clearly carrying on some sort of dalliance with the prisoner we accompanied, but she is still insistent on him having a fair trial, despite the obviously broken heart she’s suffering from. Many weaker women would have let him hang for less.”“Then there’s Iron Bull and Dorian,” Vivienne adds, before Helaine can get a word in. “All over each other at every conceivable opportunity. Not to mention Sera loudly announcing that she has to get her armour fitted every time she slips into the undercroft. Honestly, I don’t know if she thinks she’s being subtle, or if it’s some crude innuendo I haven’t managed to work out yet. And that’s only the Inner Circle. The apothecaries must be working overtime concocting birth control potions with the number of liaisons I’ve heard about between the soldiers and scouts and servants and so on. The guests aren’t much better either. If I hadn’t spent extensive time checking the wards on the fortress when we arrived, I’d assume that the ancient elves used this place as some sort of orgiastic pleasure palace, with all the hormones in the air. Honestly, I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed.”She… had not. With all the work she has had to do, she had not given much thought to such things. What her friends and subordinates get up to outside of their duties is nothing to do with her. But… now that they bring it up.“Captain Katia and Knight-Captain Briony do seem to talk far more than necessary, even for their respective duties…”Vivienne half-stifles another smile behind her glass. “My dear, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know about them either? You know, if you didn’t even notice that your seconds have been romantically involved since we visited Halamshiral for the Empress’ ball, I think you’re already quite distracted enough. So you might as well be enjoying yourself.”Cosette leans back in her chair again, tipping her now-empty glass toward Vivienne for a refill. Which makes her realise that she has not had so much as a sip of her own. Lifting the glass to her lips, she winces a little at the burn of the alcohol. Why Vivienne enjoys such strong stuff, she will never understand.“I tried to break his heart,” she admits quietly. “How do I come back from that?”Vivienne and Cosette exchange glances again.“He’s stronger than you give him credit for, my dear,” Vivienne says softly. “You may have to work for it, to regain his trust, but I cannot imagine that you coming to him, confessing your true feelings, will do anything other than make his happiest dreams come true. But you must be patient. He may have managed to convince himself that you could never feel this way.”“I did not think I could.”“You need to tell him about Moreau,” Cosette adds. “I know, I know you don’t want to. It will hurt. Him as well as you, if I read him correctly. But it must be done. While that man is still lingering in your subconscious, you’re never going to fully give yourself over to Rutherford. And that is the only way you are both going to be happy.”The idea has that fear rising in her throat again. “And if it… If he cannot face me after?”“Then he is not the man I think he is,” Cosette says, softly now. “But at least you will know.”She nods. “Not… not until after this mess with Blackwall… with Rainier is dealt with. The whole fortress is on edge. If anything were to happen, and we were not focused, I would never forgive myself. But… after.”Neither of them are completely happy with her, she can tell, but they do not push the matter any further. Only settle back into their respective chairs.“Now,” Vivienne says. “Cosette, tell the story of the Inquisition’s daring rescue again. Helaine needs to hear it.”*The next few days are almost overwhelmingly difficult. She tries to act somewhat normally, no matter how hard that is.After a long mental debate with herself, she decides not to even bring up the subject with Rutherford until after the Judgement. When he asks about Cosette and Vivienne, she avoids the topic, only recounting that Cosette had described the Inquisition’s rescue, and other various tales of recent assignments. He accepts this, somewhat relieved. It cannot help but make her wonder whether he has not already moved on from his feelings for her, but then she catches him smiling over the chess board one night, just a little too softly, before he tears his gaze away from her, cheeks red.The war room is kept busy with a stream of debates on Rainier’s fate. She only attends one session, given her lack of extended interactions with the man prior to his arrest, but Rutherford is a frequent participant. It makes it easier to avoid him.One day, when they are all free, she, he and Leliana spend time with Cosette, grilling her on her experiences with the venatori. Their practices and routines, any information she had managed to glean from her time there. Luckily, it seems that she has anticipated this line of questioning. She gives over copies of documents she had managed to steal, and copious notes on their operations.“I’m not sure how useful some of this will be,” she warns, during their session. “A good number of them perished in the course of our escape. But they were all too happy for new recruits. It may be sensible to send some of your own undercover operatives to infiltrate them. Mages, particularly. Despite the fact that your Lord Inquisitor is one of us, and the reputation of the Inquisition as welcoming to mages is well-known across Southern Thedas, it appears that the venatori are keen to steal as many apostates as they can get.”Leliana exchanges a glance with Helaine, nodding. “Something to keep in mind. I will look into sending an infiltration team.”And so it continues.Until the day of the Judgement.She barely sleeps the night before. Not only because she is not entirely certain of the path the Inquisitor will take – though she is fairly sure he will follow the general wishes of his friends – nor because she is worried about the reaction that the crowd might have.The Judgement is her own deadline. Once it is over, she has promised Cosette and Vivienne that she will talk to Rutherford. Talk. Explain. Confess.By the time dawn comes, half the castle is already awake, though the actual Judgement will not be for several hours yet. She makes her way down to breakfast, her head aching from the lack of sleep and the constant noise. Again, there are calls for gallows to be set up, for the man to be cast from the battlements, for all manner of horrific punishments that would make her feel sick had she not heard them all before. How they think the kind, sweet Inquisitor would carry out any of them, on a former friend no less, she has no idea.Training has been cancelled for the day, everyone too distracted to focus. She tries to do some paperwork, but Cosette visits the tower, lingering in her peripheral vision until Helaine turns.“Afterward,” she promises, knowing what the woman is so loudly not asking.“Be sure that you do.”And then… the time comes.Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra are clustered on the Inquisitor’s left, but though she could call all of them ‘friend’, she does not want to intrude on them at this painful moment. Instead, she joins Rutherford, lingering on the other side, near the bottom of the dais. He nods to her as she steps up beside him, a united front, but does not speak. Too focused on the task at hand.“For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall.”Josephine’s voice is softer and more sad than she was expecting, for the fury that she had shown that day in the War Room when the man’s disappearance had been revealed. She has been crying, that much is clear. So many tears over the last few days. Understandable.Rainier is dragged before the Inquisitor’s throne, the Inquisitor himself leaning forward, as if wishing he could go down and remove the superfluous chains. The whispers swell for a moment, and then fall silent as Josephine continues.“His crimes… Well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours.”Though she thinks she knows which way the sword will fall, she cannot help but watch Josephine’s face throughout the ensuing conversation between Rainier and the Inquisitor. The pain that she manages to conceal, though her posture is almost agonisingly stiff.If Rainier had told her, in person, what he had done, who he was, before all of this drama, how would she have reacted then? If he had begged and pleaded for her mercy, would she have given it?Helped him conceal his past?Worked her diplomatic powers to obtain him a pardon?Or would she have turned away in disgust?Given him over to the Orlesians?Would she have cast him from her life and her bed, or kept him there?More than that, though, the fact was that he had chosen to leave her with a lie. This was no Warden business. He had had no message from Weisshaupt. He had told her he would return in a week, when he knew full well that he was intending to go to his death. And with no more than a note of apology as a goodbye.Could she forgive him?She cannot tell, and she doubts that even Josephine would be able to tell her. Too late for any of that now, she supposes. But Helaine knows that she would not. If only for that last fact.She glances at Rutherford, but he too is keeping his expression carefully neutral. He had advocated for mercy, she knows. That no matter how terrible the crime Rainier had committed, the fact that he had spilled blood for the Inquisition, and confessed to save the life of one of his men, had tipped the scales ever so slightly in his favour.He has experience in hating the actions of your past, she supposes. In wanting clemency for deeds you now know to be wrong.It seems the Inquisitor agrees.“Blackwall intended you join the Wardens. I will let them decide your fate. But only when Corypheus is dead. For now, Thom Rainier, the Inquisition needs you.”She watches as Rainier looks toward Josephine before he responds, and the way she closes her eyes, refusing to look back at him. No, she has not forgiven him. Honestly, Helaine doubts that she ever will.“As you command,” he responds eventually.“Blackwall gave you the chance to atone through action, not merely punishment,” the Inquisitor continues. “I find I can do no less.”“I am grateful for this, Inquisitor, and I will serve for as long as I can.” The relief in his tone is palpable, but she cannot help but note that Josephine has not relaxed in the slightest.As soon as the chains have been removed, and Rainier led away by the qunari and the stablemaster, Leliana swiftly guides her into her office, Cassandra remaining at the door. Rutherford makes a step in the same direction, but she reaches out, lightly touching his gauntlet, and he halts.“No, let them be,” she says quietly.He sighs. “You’re right.”Then Trevelyan steps down from the dais, exhaustion writ loud across his face, and Rutherford gives her a glance. This time, she nods.Approaching Trevelyan, Rutherford clasps him quickly on the shoulder. “You did well.”All Trevelyan does is nod, before disappearing through his own door, and Rutherford turns back to her with a grimace as the crowds begin to disperse.“It didn’t go as poorly as I was expecting,” he says, coming back to her. “The Chargers are going to keep an eye on him tonight, just in case. But it doesn’t seem like we’ll have a riot.”She shakes her head.“Do you have… plans? We should stay visible, at least for today, much as I’d like to go down to the training field and hit a dummy for the next three hours. But perhaps you’d like to take a walk around the battlements with me?”She nods.As they turn to leave, she catches Cosette watching her in her peripheral vision, an expression of smug satisfaction on her face. Not that Helaine is about to tell such a private, painful story in such a situation. No, that will have to wait just a little longer.But she has an idea.*Her idea is made immeasurably more possible by the events of the following day.After training, she and Rutherford are summoned to a War Council meeting.Though she is half-expecting Josephine to not be in attendance, she is in her usual place when Helaine and Rutherford enter, a little late. She notes that Cassandra is also present. Unusual. If they are to discuss the Inquisitor’s imminent trip to the Emerald Graves, she would have assumed that Dorian and Varric would also be in attendance, but they are not.“Thank you for joining us,” Trevelyan says. “I know there’s usually an agenda for these kind of things, but first, I just wanted to get everyone together to make… an announcement?”Cassandra gives him a sideways smile, and he nods.“Oh?” Leliana asks, intrigued.“After this meeting is over, I’m declaring a holiday. For all of us. Well, in so far as you can all take time off from your duties. But, no War Council meetings. No audiences. Take some time, do something nice, anything you want. The past week or so has been very stressful for everyone, and I think we all need just a day or two to relax.”Rutherford exchanges a quick glance with her, stifling a smile, and she thinks it is fairly clear what he thinks Trevelyan really means. Surprising, given the report Vivienne had given of their sojourn in Val Royeaux, and the fact that Trevelyan and Cassandra had barely left their lodging room.(Even for meals.)Josephine gives him an only half-hearted smile, and Helaine wonders if she would not rather bury herself in her work. A distraction. But Leliana shoots her a reassuring glance.“That sounds lovely, no? I agree.”Trevelyan nods, relieved, and Cassandra slips her hand into his.“Is there any urgent business we need to deal with… before?” she asks, attempting – somewhat fruitlessly, it seems – to distract the rest of them from the image of what she would be rather doing.Josephine consults her board. “I have a few things I will need to rearrange. And a letter from one of our elven colleagues regarding the Emerald Graves. But if you are intending to delay your journey, it will keep.”“Only by a couple of days, I promise, Josephine,” Trevelyan assures her. “Anything else?”Leliana shakes her head, but Rutherford clears his throat.“I checked in on Rainier this morning, as agreed. He’s fine. A rough night, but Iron Bull, Dorian and the Chargers took it in turns to watch over him while the soldiers guarded the door. No one attempted entry. They’re staying with him all of today and then we’ll start phasing them out. The Chargers, that is, not the soldiers. They’re staying until I’m certain that… he’s safe.”Helaine watches Josephine’s face while he says this, but her eyes remain fixated on her board, seemingly unaffected.“Good,” Trevelyan says. “I’m glad the plan is working. Hopefully in a few days, everything will have settled down a little. I know a few of our more… grumpy Orlesian guests have already departed this morning. Probably to complain vociferously to the Empress, but I’d rather have them bothering her than me. Is… is that all?”It is as good a time as any, though part of her wishes that she would have warned Rutherford about it first.“Might I make a request, Inquisitor?” she asks.He lifts his free hand, palm up. “Go on.”Leliana is regarding her thoughtfully, and even Josephine has lifted her eyes from her board, her expression curious.Perhaps she should have requested a private word first, or waited until he dismissed them all and then attempted to waylay him on his way back to his quarters. But now that she has said it out loud, she might as well get it over with. Leliana and Josephine will only figure out the truth of the matter when it happens.If it is permitted in the first place, that is.She settles into a variation on a parade rest, straightening her spine and clasping her hands behind her back, as if this will make her intentions seem more… professional. At the very least, she needs the Inquisitor to believe that this is… professional, even if the women around the table will certainly not be fooled.“I request permission for myself and Commander Rutherford to take a short excursion. We would both be gone for three or four days.”Though she feels the need to explain herself more, it would likely only be more incriminating. As it is, she is having to try her very best not to turn and see Rutherford’s own reaction to such a thing. She really should have posited it to him first…Trevelyan frowns for a moment, and her heart sinks, but then it is like a light has been lit behind his eyes. “Oh, is this to do with the secret plan? For helping Cullen fight back against the red templars?”She almost frowns back at him, narrowing her eyes a little, but then, impossibly, Rutherford nods in her peripheral vision.“Yes, Inquisitor. My apologies, I should have mentioned it earlier. Knight-Captain Briony and Captain Katia are fully capable of covering for us for a few days, in training and meetings, if that would be an issue.”Trevelyan waves his hand dismissively. “Not at all. I think it’s a great idea. In fact, I insist. And take five days, if you need them. Maker knows that you two need a break as much as anyone. More than most, I’m sure. Good luck, I hope it all goes well.” Then, beaming, he turns to the others. “If there’s nothing else?”Josephine gives her one last curious glance, and then shakes her head. “Nothing that cannot keep, Inquisitor. You are dismissed.”Trevelyan does not wait to be told twice, giving them all a near-blinding smile before he all-but drags Cassandra out of the room. Leliana looks like she is going to ask Helaine a question, but Josephine bustles her out of the room with some excuse about rearranging a meeting with the recently-arrived Antivan guests. And that leaves her, and Rutherford.“Well,” he says, clasping his hand behind his back. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about, or is that a surprise too?”Now that it comes to it, the words stick in her throat once more. But he just stands there. Watching her. Not with that look of longing, but a wary expression that speaks more of him thinking she has lost her mind than anything else.“Cosette and Vivienne want me to… speak with you,” she starts, and his expression darkens.“I told you that they had ideas, Helaine. You don’t have to. Whatever they’re making you do, you don’t have to.”“And if I want to?”The words come out before she has quite managed to think them through, but he tilts his head slightly, and her stomach clenches again.“But you can’t do it here,” he says. Not a question. “Is there somewhere specific we must go?”She shakes her head. “Anywhere away from here. Somewhere where there is no possibility of interruption or observation. If you have an idea… You know this area of the world better than I do.”He considers the question for a moment, and then something crosses his face. Hope, perhaps, or a reserved kind of joy.“I have a place. Could be a day’s ride from here, if we packed light. That would give us two or three days for… whatever it is you want to discuss.”“That should be more than enough time. It is… quiet?”He nods. “I promise.”She holds his gaze for a few moments more, and then lets herself smile. Small and tight, but a smile nonetheless. “Go, brief Briony. I will do the same with Katia. And then, tomorrow? At dawn?”“Will I see you at dinner?”Much as she wants to say yes, she really should spend the time with Cosette. With the Judgement over, the Empress will likely be demanding her return before too long. And if she is planning to leave Skyhold for the better part of a week…“I should-““-spend the evening with Cosette,” he interrupts, as if he has read her mind. “No, that’s a good idea. I’ll check in with Briony and the others, and then get an early night. We’ll have to ride hard to get there before dark.” He unclasps his hands, almost reaching for her, and then thinks again. “Till dawn, Helaine.”She gives him another hesitant smile.“Till dawn.”