Chapter Text
Every breath is measured and carefully taken. The scent of soap clings to my clean skin and I feel refreshed. Ready to face my future. Sera had left not long ago, after a last parting hug and kiss. I smile as I remember the feel of her lips on mine, tasting of honey and self-baked cookies. I’m a glad to have her as a friend. In another life we could have been lovers. But in this one, my heart is already taken. And if I am honest with myself… it has been taken for months.
On silent feet I walk over to the massive wardrobe in my quarters. Dark oak wood, t he same material which my people used to build our aravels . Sadness flickers in my eyes for what was lost and what was gained. The clarity that even if my clan is gone people who care for me remain. Despite my attempts to push them away in the beginning, they wormed their way into my heart. Bit by bit. The wardrobe, the windows in opalescent green designs, the fine curtains. Everything arranged to make me feel at home.
My slender fingers slide along the fabrics contained in the old wardrobe. Dresses, uniforms, my leather armor and capes. All cleaned and ready for me to wear. It’s strange that I never gave any thought of these little things. The flowers on every table in the room, radiating the scent of forest and nature. I shake my head and then chose the one attire I always refused to wear. Out of spite. Out of anger. Out of… resentment.
But that was the past. I will be what Thedas needs. What the people living here in Skyhold want, need, me to be. Their savior, their leader… but also their salvation. I am the herald of Andraste -- even if it is technically a lie. Adamant proved that, at least at the first glance. Yes, the anchor which I carry was Corypheus’ doing. But it was the call of divine Justinia that pulled me into that room. Her plea for help, answered by me. Anything could have happened that day. I should have died, but I didn’t. I am not so blasphemic of the creators to believe that it was Andraste who saved me. My creators watched over me that day with Mythal, the goddess whose Vallaslin I carry proudly on my face and body, leading them.
The creators may have protected me. But no matter what a human, elf, dwarf or qunari may believe, in the end our religions are all the same. The hope that someone out there watches over us, guides us and protects us from harm and because of this, it does not matter what people call the one they worship. Be it one name, or nine, a simple stone or the rules of a society. In the end we are all the same.
The towel slides from my body, falling in a whisper to the ground. A glance outside tells me I still have some time, and so I pick up the brush, combing my hair carefully. Untangling knots from days of neglect, till my hair is silken and straight once more. It reaches to my elbows and I scrutinize myself in the mirror. No. I want this to be perfect. Cassandra’s knife serves me well, and a smile spreads on my face as I look at my new self in the mirror. My hair barely touches my shoulders now, slightly curling now that the tresses lost some of their weight. With a hum I smooth the locks a bit, before piling them up in an elaborate bun at the top of my head. For the attire I have chosen, ‘long freely flowing hair does not match’ I smile as I hear Josie’s beautiful accented voice echo in my head. Next I pick up lipstick and kohl, accenting my eyes and lips in a manner Leliana taught me at the Winter Palace. Back then I had hated this face painting. But now I`ve grown up and understand the importance and power you can imply with correctly chosen makeup.
When I am satisfied with my work, I turn back to the bed where I have lain out my chosen attire. It shimmers beautifully in the soft light of my quarters, rich silk and fine embroidery telling of its value. Even though I hate austerity, in my role as Inquisitor people expect me to appear otherworldly. Better. Pure. But it also means responsibility and duty. Carefully I dress myself, smoothing away any wrinkles made and folds not right in place. A flowing burgundy red dress with a high collar, closed at the front and back leaving my arms bare, showing the intricate white swirls and tendrils of my vallaslin. The dress fits nearly perfectly, only a little bit loose around my middle. No wonder, I lost weight in my state of grief. But no more, look forward, Ellana.
Stepping in front of the mirror once more, the accompanying jewelry shines as I attach it to complete my dress. Adorned with silvery chains and white gems resembling diamonds, the shoulder chain necklace radiates power, beauty - but also gives the impression of armor showing my strength in court and the battlefield. I smile at my reflection, the chains rustling gently as I move.
Perfect, I achieved what I wanted to. Reflected back at me is a young woman, but with an air of confidence and power around her. A deep breath and I nod to myself. I can do this. Face my future, with all it entails. So I move away from the mirror and in front of the fireplace. On my way I pick up a glass, quenching my thirst and stilling my nervousness. Another thing I swore to myself, no longer I will turn to alcohol to gain false strength and warmth that only lasts a few hours. I know I can find that strength elsewhere. The firelight plays beautifully with the jewelry around my neck and shoulders and I let the warmth of the room seep into my bones. My quarters are neat and tidied up now, except for the small chaos I created and contained in the bathroom. Everything else is back in its place and nothing gives away the fact that I grieved for nearly one and a half weeks in private.
Deep in thought I recall and rehearse what I want to say to my advisors. Soon, the church bell chimes eight times signaling the start of the evening chant, the tower of the church illuminated by the setting sun, just as I had asked it to be. At the last chime and on time as always, they knock three times on my door. I square my shoulders and turn to the fire, taking another sip from my glass of water.
‘Enter’ I announce, voice steady and filled with authority. The glass returns to its place on the mantlepiece with a click, just as three pairs of boots climb up the stairs. I keep my back turned towards my guests, staring into the fire and my arms folded in front of my chest.
After a few seconds the footsteps become muffled then stop, as my advisors line up properly and at a respectful distance away. They wait for me to start this meeting, and I can feel their eyes gliding over my form and new image. I feel a subtle shift in the air as they, no doubt, take in my appearance and stance and realise my change in leadership and personality. I am grown up now and know what I want. No longer will I let myself be held down by ill-advised whispers spoken deep in the night. I am my own woman and can decide for myself what I want, how I want and when I want it..
I let the silence grow heavy for a few seconds longer, before slowly turning around. Facing all three advisors with a warm smile, catching the approving glint in Josie’s eyes. Still there are traces of worry in their features, although my tactical and advisor and the spymaster mask this emotion well. Three pairs of eyes resting on me as finally Josie opts for a small bow.
‘Inquisitor’ she says in her beautiful accent, in this one word implied all the things she wants but can’t say. Not yet. Not now. Concern for me. Relief that I feel better. Approval of my changed appearance. But also curiosity. Leliana’s eyes stay on my form as well, although I am sure that she already knew about it before. Her spies are everywhere and she does not seem surprised in the slightest.
At last my eyes shift to Commander Cullen, who regards me with a calculating but impassive look. No emotion shows on his face and no matter how hard I try I can’t guess what he is thinking. The ultimatum he gave expired a few days ago and I know what that means. Maybe I deserve this impassiveness. But right now I need to settle another matter first before saving my personal life.
‘Thank you coming here at this late hour’ I say in a steady voice, eyes finally straying away from the imposing form of the Commander.
‘And thank you for handling everything while I was...’ My lips purse for a moment as I think of an adequate word.
‘... indisposed’. Eyes flicker over to Josie who nods in understanding. I have no doubt who is responsible for securing my solitude. All the nobles she must have entertained and steered away from me. I make a mental note to thank her later personally once more.
‘Of course, Inquisitor’ Josie acknowledges and then a tentative smile appears on those plush dark red painted lips.
‘We trust you feel better?’ A rhetorical question but I sense the worry in it. As answer i turn my back to them once more, slender fingers sliding over the warm stone of the chimney. No trace of dust. The servants kept everything clean. Unseen like little helpful imps. I wonder if they are paid appropriately for their service.
‘It took me some time….’ I admit, and it feels good to be so open with my feelings. In the past I would have never turned my back to them. Showed my vulnerability.
‘But yes. I feel better now.’ Again I turn, picking up the glass from the mantlepiece and bringing it to my red painted lips.
‘Despite that, what happened at Wycome...’ my voice falters for a moment, and golden eyes darken the tiniest bit. I glance away from Commander Cullen.
‘It can’t be left unatoned. They murdered in cold blood what I held...hold… dear’. Josie nods in sympathy, the quill in her hand scratching over parchment as she makes notes.
‘We brought everything that could be saved to Skyhold, Inquisitor’ Now it was Leliana who spoke up and surprise flashes over my features. Everything that could be saved? But why? I swallow hard, gesturing for her to continue.
‘Commander Cullen thought it would be in your interest to give your clan a proper funeral.’ She says softly, carefully. My eyes dart to Cullen, who still regards me with a calculating but unreadable stare. Then my vision blurs as I visibly crumble under the knowledge of this new information, Its weight settling in. My fingers curl on the stone of them mantlepiece as I try to remain upright.
‘This… this is a good thought. I will look through it as soon as-’ The world spirals, fabric rustling as my knees buckle.
He moves swiftly and within heartbeats strong arms steady me on my waist and shoulder, guiding me gentle but insistent towards the armchair close to the fireplace.
‘Sit’ Cullen murmurs close to my ear and I comply, sinking down into the plush seating and closing my eyes. A thin layer of sweat pearls on my forehead. One hand splays out on my stomach I take deep steadying breaths, subtly leaning into the gloved hand still resting on my shoulder. Like an anchor. A rock.
The cool rim of the glass is held against my lips, and my eyelids flutter. Leliana smiles gently as she tilts the glass up, letting me drink cool water to quench the dizziness which weakened me till the last drop. The glass gets refilled swiftly and again pressed against my lips. I open my eyes as soft hands touch mine, interlacing them in my lap.
‘One thing at a time, Ellana’ Josie says, motherly in her beautiful accent, squeezing my hands. Her clipboard is abandoned carelessly on the ground as she tucks a strand of hair behind my pointed ear. Silence reigns until I compose myself, then glance up to my Spymaster. Three pairs of eyes watch me carefully as Leliana informs me further, ignoring the disapproving glance of Josie.
‘Belongings were packed in crates and labelled by date, place and contents. The… bodies…’ she takes a step closer but I nod slowly so she continues.
‘Are laid out in a secluded area of Skyhold, near the undercroft. Guarded twenty-four hours a day and under a constant freezing spell. We thought to delay the proper funeral until you felt better.’ Again I nod, taking the glass from her hand and emptying it with one last sip.
‘Thank you.’ Is all I manage to say, then wipe the back of my hand over my face.
‘Is there anything else I should know?’
‘No. We took care of the direst things’ Again it is Josie who speaks up, squeezing my hand once more.
‘It can be reviewed as soon as you are able, everything is documented,’ I wince at that. It was an order I had given my advisors shortly after becoming Inquisitor. My need to control everything. To prevent them from backstabbing, blackmailing me. Now I feel foolish for ever distrusting them.
‘But right now nothing is more important than your full recovery. Thedas can wait for its savior a few days longer.’ Josie ends with a soft smile and then rises, picking up her clipboard and quill as she goes. I nod thoughtfully and rise as well, the hand on my shoulder dropping away. I instantly miss the warmth and comfort it provided, but square my shoulders and step to the fireplace once more. Looking down into the flames I close my eyes, breathing deeply.
‘Thank you. All of you. That will be all.’
‘Of course, Inquisitor’ my advisors reply, my head tilting slightly and I smile as Josie squeezes my upper arm gently before turning away. Their footsteps are muffled by the thick carpets in my quarters, and soon after that I hear the faint click of the door as it closes behind them.
Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding, both hands slide up to my neck. Over the fine silvery jewelry, I massage my nape and roll my shoulders. It feels good to have them. And I will do my best to secure their friendship. My eyes flutter open once more and I drop my hands. Tongue darting out to wet my lips I turn around. Facing the enigmatic form of my military advisor, who leans subtly against my desk. Arms folded over his broad chest, the silver of his armor glinting in the firelight. Golden eyes rest on me unreadably, his whole posture watchful and patient. Neither of us speaks a word for a few minutes, while my eyes commit every piece of him to memory.
Black leather trousers clinging to his muscular legs and thighs, adorned with the wide equally black belt. Stitching on the accessory, as well as several chains of silver and gold. Surcoat in a dark rich red color, velvety and also decorated with embroidery. A similarly colored tunic is wrapped around his broad and muscular upper body, obscuring the sight on the polished silverite chestplate he always wears. Dark fur extends the width of his shoulders, and with his more than 6, 3 feet he towers over me. Golden hair combed back neatly, sun kissed skin blending in with golden stubble of three days growth. Both are soft; I know this from trysts in the past. Sharp golden eyes rest on me, betraying neither emotion nor what he is thinking in this very moment.
I exhale audibly. Never before has two feet seemed so great a distance. How… how should I begin? How can I tell him what my decision is? Swallowing hard I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, lower lip pulled between my teeth in thought. They say actions speak louder than words. But how… how shall I tell him?
It is the Commander who breaks the silence finally, voice deep and dark as he says these words, which haunt my dreams and waking hours since the first time I heard them.
‘What do you need of me, Inquisitor?’