Chapter Text
VAL ROYAUX - MARKET SQUARE
Rosalind Trevelyan knew why her father was visiting Val Royaux. And it was not to visit her ailing grandfather, his father.
No, for a man who claimed to have no respect for The Great Game, Bann Alec Trevelyan was almost as cold and calculating as any Orlesian. He was here for her because, after effectively disowning her after she became a Bard, she was now of use. Those skills, so seedy and unholy, that intelligence, so finely tuned and liberal, was now required; if she were Orlesian she would laugh at the irony.
The Divine was going to be holding a Conclave to deal with The Mage Uprising in the upcoming months and she was now of use as House Trevelyan was apparently so important that they needed a delegation there. Her cousins also being morons with no idea on how to play The Game did not help matters; especially against a player as skilled as Justinia.
“I wish for you to accompany your cousins to this Conclave to display House Trevelyan’s desires,” he reluctantly informed her after several minutes of uncomfortable silence. It was the kind of silence that can be found after visiting long forgotten and resented family with the full knowledge that neither had forgiven the other.
“I was already going,” Rosalind informed him, “The Divine asked for me personally, given our family’s unique position regarding Cecilia’s unfortunate nature,” the sneer was evident in her tone, shame and disgust at her father, at herself and at The Maker himself for causing her family’s suffering.
“Maker’s Breath Rosalind, you informed her?” he gasped, disgusted as his daughter’s perceived treachery.
“Nonsense, Cecilia’s existence was revealed to the Court in an attempt to discredit me and my studies. I parleyed it to victory and dealt with my enemy effectively” Rosalind scoffed at her father and his ignorance as she brushed away some imagined dirt from her dress, “a weakness is only perceived as such if everyone views it as a failure. Orlesians love a martyr; it was no one’s fault that Cecilia was a mage. The Maker willed our family to be tested and I passed,” she paused briefly to smile, satisfied but not smug in her victory, “Divine Justinia V’s view as I bowed to her in Court and asked, nay begged, for her forgiveness,” she paused briefly for effect, “she gave it and later sent word that I was too attend The Conclave.”
“As a Trevelyan?” Bann Trevelyan asked, almost breathless in anticipation over the prospect of growth in importance and influence.
Rosalind held back a bitter laugh at her own father’s stupidity and childishness “No, in an attempt to trip me up. However, I must attend regardless, after all to not go would be an admission of fear.”
“I see, whose side will you argue for?” He asked, tone clearly leading to a specific answer; one she could never give.
“The restoration of The Circle of Magi, provided the mages are given freedoms and rights.” She informed him, her own tone clearly stating that she would not move on this issue.
“Very well, remember whom House Trevelyan has served over the Ages,” came the childish and unnecessary threat.
Rosalind yawned for effect and stretched her legs out in front of herself childishly before responding “Naturally father.”
SKYHOLD - INQUISITOR’S PERSONAL QUARTERS.
Rosalind began her day as she always found herself doing now, stretching herself awake in such a way her ‘evil swamp feet’ woke up her lover The Iron Bull. She allowed herself a satisfied smirk when it did.
“Dammit Kadan, why do you always do that?” Bull moaned in annoyance as he shifted awake.
“Because it grabs your attention and wakes you up,” came the chortled response, “why?” She asked all too innocently, “are you going to punish me?”
Bull smirked as he ripped the bed sheet off them and revealed their naked forms.
“I really should, Kadan,” he whispered, his morning breath brushing against her lips as he hovered mere centimetres above her and simply smirked as he pushed himself into a sitting position beside her when she raised her arms above her head in anticipation. “We do have to start travelling today,” he told her, “those Rifts aren’t going to close themselves,” and with that he got out of bed and went to the bathroom. “Are you sure you’re okay with this mission, Kadan?” He yelled out, “you and your family are hardly on good terms.”
Rosalind smiled in accepted content. Trust Bull to worry like that, “I’ll be fine, my dearest,” she reassured him, “besides I have too close the Rifts around Ostwick at some point.”
Bull snorted as he left the bathroom, “I ain’t asking my Boss, I’m asking my Kadan,” he paused briefly as he sat on the edge of their bed, ”I’ll understand if you want someone else to go in my place.”
“No, Father can shove his ‘concerns’ up his arse and hold them in the Maker’s stead,” Rosalind responded bluntly, “you are the man I love, dearest, and you have my grandfather’s approval so the rest of my family, with the exception of Maxwell and his little section, can go walk The Void itself with their unjust and unfounded worries for all I care.”
Bull was taken aback for a moment. Not by her bluntness, Rosalind was as blunt as anything when she was in a safe area. Nor by the admission of her father’s letter, which Rosalind had already ranted about and been talked down from retaliating to in spectacular fashion. No, what had taken Bull aback was the fact that her extremely religious, ex-templar grandfather approved of him. “Since when did Knight-Commander Trevelyan approve of me?” He asked, his tone unsure.
Rosalind smiled then, and scooted over to join Bull on the edge of the bed, “the last time he visited; what three, four months ago?” She rested her head on his arm, “honestly, he liked you back when we were based in Haven.”
“Really?”
“Mmmhmm, he said you were a good man who cares for his men and that you were too be trusted,” she shrugged as she got up and started getting ready, “however, most recently he noted our new found closeness and said I made a good choice in you as my partner.”
Bull snorted at that, “And here I thought we were subtle.”
Rosalind laughed at that, “Dearest, if you were ever subtle around me then it went up in smoke when you first saw me in my Ostwickean noble clothing,” she informed him as she stretched suggestively, turning to a rhythm of a half forgotten dance, “your fluster really wasn’t all that subtle, you were worst then Krem with Maryden. The season’s colours weren’t even flattering to my complexion.” She scoffed playfully. After all her years in Orlais she had become accustomed to the pastel colours favoured by their nobility over the harsher colours favoured across the Free Marches. She was already pale, she didn’t need to look like a ghost.
“I wasn’t looking at the dress, Kadan.” Bull told her bluntly as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down to kiss the hollow of her neck as Rosalind hummed in blissful content as she leaned into his touch and turned around to kiss him back, revealing in the warm of his embrace.
“Bull, I love you,” she whispered against his lips, a quiet aside meant only for him.
“I love you too, Rosalind,” he responded.
They stayed like that for a few more moments before separating so they could get ready for their journey into the Free Marches.
Bull was ready first, his clothes being simpler than Rosalind’s rogue attire. He watched her get ready as she put to use all her bardic training to steady her hands and suppress her nerves. His Ben-Hassareth training told him she was scared. His experience told him that she wasn’t sure herself, especially considering the unsteady sigh she released.
“Some of Leliana’s scouts have reported that several former templars have been attempting to deal with a supposed maleficar. I said we would take a look into it.”
“Sure Boss, who are we gonna take? I’d suggest Cassandra at the very least. Chantry support will be very useful.”
“I was thinking you, Dorian and then either Cole or Cassandra,” she told him, doing up her boots, “more often than not people commit these kinds of atrocities because they’re desperate. I’d much rather talk it out than fight it out.”
“Good plan, maybe take both,” Bull reasoned, “Best not to piss your Chantry off, they’re still chaffing against your authority.”
Rosalind nodded in agreement, “thanks Bull,” she smiled slightly.
“Anytime Boss,” he stood up and headed out towards the door, “coming?” He asked, holding his arm out.
Rosalind smiled as she slipped on her dragon tooth necklace, the half of a matching set that was completed with Bull’s own necklace, “naturally,” she told him, stepping into her more confident persona.
FREE MARCHES - SOMEWHERE BETWEEN KIRKWALL AND OSTWICK.
“So,” Dorian asked as he dismounted his steed at their make shift camp. “What do we know about this mage?”
“Next to nothing,” Rosalind informed him, “all the reports seem to contradict the others. Some say a man, others say a woman. Some say they work alone, others fear it’s a Venatori plot.” She sighed in annoyance as she stretched out her back.
“Are you okay?” Dorian asked in a quiet aside, “as your oldest friend-”
“Vivienne is my oldest friend.”
“-I have to make sure.” Dorian finished as if there was no interruption, “I know how hard meeting with difficult family can be.”
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him “Well, I think I’ll be fine as long as I don’t see my father.”
Dorian laughed boisterously at that, “I know the feeling, my friend. Just know what he said back in Haven isn’t true. You did everything you could for your sister.”
“That I know. It’s the comments about Bull and myself that got to me,” she told him as she kicked some dirt.
“Why don’t we ever get any good letters, hmm?” Dorian joked, “No cheeky Antivian dowagers for us.”
Rosalind smiled briefly, “I doubt I could bring any shame to him.” She smiled a bit more, suddenly sure of herself, “thanks Dorian.”
“Of course, old girl, anytime.”
On the opposite side of the camp Iron Bull read through the reports Leliana and her people had gathered.
“Mind unfocused, all jumbled up. My poor Kadan, playing her Lady act. I can see the pressure, shoulders so stiff yet still sagging. Why can’t I carry some of that weight? No, she must do this herself, I told her the lines would not be blurred anymore. I swore it to her and she hates liars.” Cole sat next too him, “She’s strong, stronger now she has her necklace, it’s my talisman that protects me from anything ‘the bigger the better’. I know Bull will protect me, he always has my back, always cares, even when he doesn’t show it he does just by letting me try alone,” He reassured Bull.
Bull couldn’t help but smile at Cole, the creepy demon kid had, despite all his trepidation, grown on him, “yeah, well, her father has an unfortunate habit of undermining her confidence.”
Cassandra scoffed as she sat down, with her hand reaching out for some of Bull’s reports, “that’s an understatement,” she stated bluntly, “he puts some members of my family too shame. I’d suggest avoiding Bann Trevelyan all together, but I doubt his ego would allow him to return the favour.”
“He humiliates her, calls her a maleficar. Words hurt like barbed daggers, harsh, cold seeping poison into her mind. It seeps where she can’t heal it, deep down where no cure will find it, poisoning her and her faith at once, but she can’t, and won’t, fight it, ‘He’ll throw me down the stairs too. I can’t slip, I won’t, he’ll trip me up too. I’ve fought myself into a corner, if I disavow him I am a terrible daughter, a worse Andrastian. How can I fight one that help make me, the Chants have never sung how. Worse than any bard, worse than Corypheous. My poor nieces and nephews I must do better for them than I did Cece, I must protect them from him. It is my duty. Isn’t it?’ I don’t like him.”
“None of us do Cole,” Cassandra absently mindedly reassured him as she read some of the reports. “Have you seen this one?” She looked up at Bull after a few minutes, “the description sounds familiar, don’t you think?”
“I hoped I was the only one that saw that,” Bull sighed, “Honestly, I hoped that those descriptions were off, eyewitness descriptions are never trustworthy, learnt that one quick.”
“Rosalind still saw her in that dark future and there was the letter at the Ritual Tower,” Cassandra countered.
“We don’t know that’s Cecilia for certain,” Bull responded briskly, “her identity was revealed publicly in Orlais and we know that Vint has had a hand in the politics there. We’ll bring it up, but drop it if told. Alright?”
“Very well,” Cassandra agreed, “may I at least say that I am happy for you two? I am glad you have both found peace.”
Bull smilled kindly at her, “thanks Seeker, I think so too.”
“Think so about what?” Rosalind asked as her and Dorian sat down, “Is Cassandra being the Defender Of All Things Romance again?”
“You’re hilarious, I take it back, Iron Bull, there can be no peace with her.”
Bull and Rosalind laughed at that.
SOMEWHERE IN THE OUTSKIRTS OF OSTWICK.
A young woman, no older than her early twenties, looked out over the coastal landscape from the confines of her former residence. Her brunette hair was pulled into a simple Orlesian plait falling halfway down her back and her green eyes could not help but sweep over the familiar landscape of her childhood home.
The young woman managed to stop herself from flinching when a tall, slender man came up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and forcing his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in her scent;
“Soon I will regain what should be yours, my precious incaensor. Then we will rule over the Free Marches from The Elder One, and you will finally have the respect that all mages have. Does that not sound grand?” His voice oozed out of his mouth like a truly viscous form of honey and the poor girl could not help but involuntarily shudder at his blasphemous suggestions.
“Of course, my Lord, I cannot wait,” she finally managed to force out through somewhat gritted teeth. She knew, deep down, that what she wanted would never have been considered. It hadn’t been since she was eight years old and it wouldn’t know.
Ceceilia Trevelyan had long made peace in what the Maker had destined for her. If this was how she was too serve mankind then she would do as she was bid. After all, she was little more than a slave.