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Rowan Trevelyan was a handsome man. Josephine had always thought so, from the moment he walked through the Chantry doors. He struck an imposing figure, tall, chiseled, and brooding. He appeared to have stepped straight from the pages of one of Varric’s trashy romance novels.
From the excited chattering coming in hushed tones from the group of nobles a few feet away from her, it seemed those in the Winter Palace were in agreement.
The ladies giggled and batted their eyelashes at him, and the men coughed and winked.
Rowan, Maker bless him, hadn’t noticed.
He stood in the corner, half in shadow. The faint light seemed to be swallowed by his dark hair, only just beginning to grey at his temples. His cheekbones stood out sharply, cutting a line down to his jaw. A twinkle in eyes betrayed his amusement at the goings on parading around him but he kept his composure through crossed arms and a stern mouth.
Josephine let her eyes linger on his figure for a few moments before glancing back at his fans.
They had begun to inch forward.
Panic flared in Josephine and before she could think to intervene, Rowan had looked over.
The chattering ceased.
Rowan Trevelyan was a handsome man in all aspects save for one. Horrible scarring webbed across the right side of his face. The gashes were gruesome and an angry red though time had likely faded them. Josephine couldn’t even imagine what he would have looked like immediately after acquiring them.
Slowly, the whispering began again, this time, in a much more subdued fashion.
The nobles began to inch away.
This, Rowan noticed immediately.
He ducked his head back down to bathe it in shadow again.
Josephine cursed.
She and the rest of Rowan’s companions knew very well how sensitive Rowan was to any mention of his wounds. Although he never said anything, they all had noticed how the Inquisitor liked to face crowds with the left side of his face. When grinning, he ducked down to conceal his smiles. Sometimes, when Josephine deigned to enter the tavern in Skyhold, she would occasionally see Rowan with his cheek in his right hand, casually leaning against the counter. Casually hiding his face from those who did not know him as well.
His favorite gift of the many he’d received across Thedas was a beautiful helm molded after a High Dragon.
She knew he favored it because it covered his face.
Additionally, Josephine had seen the man without his shirt only once. It had been after the attack on Haven and they’d found the man wandering half-frozen through the mountains. A few sisters had undressed him to take away his sodden clothes and Josephine happened to be nearby. The scars went all the way down. If the wounds on his face looked bad, the mangled mess that ravaged the right side of his body from the shoulder down were near horrific.
She never saw him go without a shirt after that.
Josephine had always considered herself a pacifist, but she debated with herself briefly on giving the nobles’ names to Leliana and seeing what the spymaster might make of their apparent disregard for the Inquisitor.
The gleam in Rowan’s eyes faded and his expression settled into a stony disregard for those who passed by him.
Purposefully, bumping into a lady or two, Josephine approached the man.
“This ball is filled with the best and worst of Orlais.” She said in lieu of a greeting.
Rowan huffed out a laugh. “I could have told you that based on the apparent assassination plot we’re looking to uncover.” His voice was gruff, but his posture had relaxed some in her presence.
She had noticed that although Rowan was a typically rough man, he had always been kind to her and the rest of his inner circle. Even in the face of such rudeness, he did not show his discomfort to her.
Josephine thought that if he had been born into the Game, he would have conquered it long ago. It was among the many traits she admired about him.
“I hope you do not let them affect you too much. They’re simple-minded people from a narrow-minded world. Most of them have never seen battle, although I suspect many of them are well-versed in death.”
Although his expression didn’t change, a tick in Rowan’s jaw made Josephine worry she had said the wrong thing. Perhaps she shouldn’t have mentioned the nobles at all. It had become an unspoken rule in Skyhold that you do not discuss the Inquisitor’s scars, and you especially do not discuss them when he is within earshot.
After a moment of silence, Rowan let out a sigh. “I know you’re right, Josie.”
She preened at the nickname he’d picked up from Leliana.
“But I will be glad to see the mission completed. I miss my own castle.” A wry grin at the corners of his mouth let Josephine know he had forgiven her.
“A small wonder. You have filled yours with the best people in Thedas.”
Rowan laughed. “Not the best and the worst?” He looked pointedly to Sara who was snarling at a few lords who had dared to stand too near her.
“Even the worst among us are better than them.” She conceded. And if her eye was twitching at the elven woman, well, Rowan didn’t comment on it.
He didn’t respond for a moment and Josephine was content to stand there in his company. He had a calming presence which she often sought out when affairs of state became too tedious or frustrating.
“I don’t know if I mentioned it, but you look lovely tonight.” He wasn’t looking at her, but Josephine gaped all the same.
Rowan Trevelyan rarely doled out compliments that were directed towards appearance. Josephine would know. She had tried many times to catch his eye. She had even purchased some of the expensive Orlesian rouge that had hit the markets a while back. It was all the rage in the capital, and she’d thought to try some if it would make his gaze linger even just a second on her.
But Rowan had never noticed, and if he had, then he never made any indication of it. His poker face was better than even hers.
Sometimes, Josephine wondered if it was her age that made him hesitate when she became a bit too obvious in her affections. She knew he was around ten years her senior and had likely seen the worst the world could offer. Perhaps he saw her as a naïve woman and did not want to waste his time educating her in love.
Perhaps he was simply too kind to turn her away.
Josephine hoped that it was not his insecurities in his appearance that held him back. He’d never admitted to what gave him the gashes on his right side, but she knew better than to ask. They looked like claw marks. Whatever did it, it had been big.
Sometimes she wondered how he could have survived an attack like that. But if there was one thing she understood with absolute certainty about the Inquisitor, it was that he was damn hard to kill. She knew. Many people had tried.
Rowan glanced down at her curiously.
Josephine then noticed that several minutes had elapsed with her staring at him, incredulous.
She cleared her throat before she responded. “Thank you, Inquisitor.”
He laughed again and Josephine felt her spirits rise. He had such a charming laugh.
“I’ve told you many times that you don’t have to call me that. I call you Josie occasionally. I think we’re familiar enough that you may call me Rowan.”
Josephine blushed. She wanted to. Maker knew she wanted to so badly, but here in the capital, it was better to keep things strictly professional.
“I will keep that in mind, Inquisitor.”
He grinned, and this time, a flash of white teeth accompanied the smile.
She was pleased to notice that he did not feel the need to duck his head when he smiled around her. His face was in full view of her and he either didn’t realize or he didn’t care. She hoped it was the latter.
“You look very handsome tonight as well.” She was feeling bold tonight and the words were out before she could stop them.
Thankfully, Rowan’s smile did not waver.
“Thank you, Lady Montilyet.”
It was then that Leliana passed by them, giving the Inquisitor a meaningful look. Updates on the mission, apparently.
Josephine felt some regret as he moved away from her to follow the spymaster. She felt they’d made some progress in their relationship.
With Rowan gone, however, she was now free to openly glare her hostility towards the group of nobles who had started all this. When she saw who all was included in the small clique, a predatory smirk crossed her lips.
“Oh! Lady Regnault! Do you have a moment? I wanted to discuss your family’s decision to begin trading with Tevinter. I’m sure you have already been fully educated on the Venatori cult that has begun to appear, but I’m positive you would be interested in hearing about their connections to the family you are in negotiations with.”
“You can be a cruel woman when you want to be.”
Josephine nearly jumped when Rowan’s voice appeared behind her. Only years of etiquette training kept the shock off her face.
“I’m not sure what you mean, my lord.”
Rowan grinned at her. “You’ve been terrifying half the guest list since I left you. What in the Maker’s name are you trying to get out of them? I think I passed poor Lord Boucher weeping in a corner.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “I was simply following up on some matters I’d begun in Skyhold. I figured they could just as easily be dealt with in person as they might have been on paper. What about you? Did you find anything out about the assassin?”
Rowan’s smile fell. “It’s more complicated than we thought.” He then turned and made his way towards the ballroom floor.
Josephine didn’t like the sound of that. She watched as he approached the Duchess Florianne. He bowed and they began to dance.
They were speaking but the music covered up any conversation they might have been having. She suspected that it was deliberate. She couldn’t imagine Rowan was putting himself on display because he desired a dance partner. The lights illuminated his entire face and there were no shadows for him to hide in.
He looked magnificent.
Then, the song ended, and the two dancers bowed again.
Rowan stormed away as quickly as he was able without causing offense. As he left the ballroom, Sera, Dorian, and Blackwall were hasty to follow him.
Josephine did not see him again for a long while.
When the party finally reappeared, it was to confront to the Duchess once more. And wasn’t that interesting. So, it had been Florianne all along who had ordered the hit on the Empress’s life. Corypheus’s influence, no doubt.
But Florianne was exposed and arrested, and Rowan quietly slipped back into the dark.
This time, it was Josephine who followed him.
“For someone who is not a rogue, you certainly have a habit of disappearing when people are trying to find you.” She discovered him on the balcony, watching the gardens below.
A quiet chuckle escaped him, but he did not turn to look at her. “It was quieter out here.”
She hummed her agreement. “I believe they’re looking to toast you back in the ballroom. You’re going to be quite the talk of the city after this unfortunate episode.”
“They can talk.” His reply was quiet.
“But I can understand the need for some peace after the chaos that was this party.” She approached the railing he was leaning against and he moved a bit to allow her the space.
“You should go back inside. I’m sure there are plenty of handsome lords in there looking for a chance to dance with the lovely heir of the Montilyet clan.”
Another compliment. Josephine wondered what was prompting him.
“Even if they did, I have no interest in stuffy lords and ladies. I’ve always loved the idea of adventure too much. To become wife to one of these pompous nobles sounds dreadfully boring.”
Rowan was watching her out of the corner of his eye.
“It is why I chose to stay with the Inquisition. I could probably have my pick of diplomatic positions here in Val Royeaux, but you have- you all have come to mean too much for me to leave.” She cursed her slip of the tongue.
Rowan didn’t look away and he stood up straight. Then he turned to lean his back against the railing and Josephine noticed that he was allowing her a full view of his scarred side. Perhaps it was intentional.
“Josephine, you’re young. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and damn talented in nearly every subject you come across. You could do so much more if you decided to let yourself advance.”
She tried not to let the hurt show. “Are you asking me to leave?”
He sighed. “No. I’m asking you to evaluate what you really want here. Why are you really staying with the Inquisition? We can only last as long as the enemy does. Then what?”
“I want…” Josephine wanted to tell him then. She wanted to tell him that he was the reason she stayed. He was the reason she didn’t want to leave Skyhold.
It didn’t matter. He could read it all on her face.
For some reason he looked inexplicably sad.
“Josie, I’m old. I’m scarred. I have more wounds than the ones on my skin. You don’t even really know who I am.”
“I’d like to learn.” She said boldly.
He sighed again, looking even more pained. “I cannot guarantee you that what you want… that I can give you what you want. There are better men than me in there. How can you be sure that you are not simply in love with the idea of me?”
“I may not know you very well, but I like to think that I know you well enough. You are a good man, Rowan.” The use of his first name did not go unnoticed by him. “You- you’re everything I used to dream about when I was younger and a bigger player in the Game. I know how naïve I must seem to you, but you are kind. And I like to think that you would not take advantage of my weaknesses for some petty enjoyment.”
“You know I’d never hurt you intentionally.” He had looked away from her at some point while she was speaking.
“I know that. That’s why I know you would be better to me than anyone else.”
“You would want a scarred man? A dangerous man?” He still wasn’t looking at her and she missed his warm gaze.
“I want a virtuous man. I want you.”
He didn’t respond so Josephine stood up from where she’d leaned against the balustrade. She moved to stand in front of him and planted her feet. Then, she reached out, caressing his scarred cheek.
Startled, he squinted down at her. He looked as if he might move her hand away, so she brought her other hand up cup his face.
Rowan Trevelyan was a handsome man. She could imagine how stunning he must have been ten years ago, before his scars, before the lines had begun to etch themselves onto his face, before the pain in his eyes. But he was indisputably and undoubtedly a handsome man.
But more than that, Rowan Trevelyan was a gentle man. He was funny, considerate, intelligent, and wickedly good at card games. He was good to her. And by the Maker she wanted him.
She watched as he read all of this in her eyes. She watched as he realized for the first time what she had understood the moment he walked into the war room.
She watched as he saw himself as she saw him.
And from that moment onwards, Josephine knew he would not be hiding his face from her any longer. They were not where she wanted to be yet, but they were something closer than they had been when they’d walked through the palace doors. And Josephine was pleased to anticipate the journey they would take in the days and nights ahead.