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A slight frown knitting his brows, Aodren was slowly heading to Josephine’s office, lost in thoughts. He had met Leliana earlier in the morning, the spymaster looking worried – as much as Leliana could look worried. It would have still been unnoticeable for him a few months ago, but he knew her well enough now to see the discreet quiver in her eyes as she requested to talk to him. Her voice had let nothing shown through, nor her composed attitude, but Aodren had just known something was amiss.
“Inquisitor, I need your help,” she had told him plainly.
“Of course,” he had nodded right away.
If Leliana needed him, he would do his best.
“It’s Josie,” she had added with a pinch of her lips, a sigh escaping her. “I can’t make her listen to reason.”
Aodren had blinked; if two of his advisors disagreed about an official matter, he was the one to decide between them indeed. But Leliana wasn’t one to speak behind Josephine’s back, quite the contrary. It wasn’t an official matter, then, which was even more surprising. Why would Leliana ask him anything personal? That wasn’t something she would do either.
“What about Josie?” he had asked, a bit lost.
“We both know she devotes herself fully to the Inquisition,” Leliana had hummed. “I’ve always appreciated her hard work, but it has come to a worrying point. She can’t let herself relax, Inquisitor. Even tea times are spent thinking about the letters she has to write.”
Aodren could easily remember their talk, on the balcony of his official room; Josie had left in a hurry when she had realised how much time had passed, almost running to her desk to go back to work.
“I don’t think we can force her to not think about politics,” he had retorted, making Leliana grin. “What do you have in mind then?”
“No drastic plot, I assure you,” she had chuckled. “Unless we have no other choice, of course. But for now, I think you should talk to her.”
“What makes you think she will listen to me? You two know each other better.”
“You’re the Inquisitor,” she had shrugged. “I hope your voice will be enough. If not, I can still imagine some kind of temporary kidnapping to take her away from Skyhold for a few hours.”
Aodren had snickered, shaking his head with a heavy roll of his eyes.
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. If we have to kidnap her, we’ll need to let Cullen know though. I don’t want him to start a manhunt for nothing.”
“It could take him out of his office too,” Leliana’s grin had grown wider. “Just think about it.”
“Only as a last resort,” Aodren had concluded with a quiet chuckle.
And now here he was, standing in front of Josephine’s door. Leliana was right, of course; Josie was an incredible ambassador for the Inquisition and they were very lucky to have her. But it was his duty as Inquisitor - and mostly as a friend - to make sure his companions were taking care of themselves.
He knocked at the door, then pushed the handle when he heard Josephine’s muffled “Come in!”. She was deeply absorbed in the reading of a missive, her lips pinched in a thin line as her eyes browsed the document. She was sitting with her back straight, her posture flawless as usual; even the quick movements of her fingers rolling the parchment up as she was reading it seemed carefully practised.
Aodren came closer to her desk, enjoying the feeling of the soft thickness of the carpet Josephine had placed there under his toes. The room might be an official office, it still felt cosy and comfortable, homey even.
“Inquisitor!” Josephine suddenly exclaimed, noticing only now who was standing in front of her. “My deepest apologies, I hadn’t realised-”
“No apologies needed, Josephine,” he interrupted her with a smile. “I can wait until you’re done with your reading.”
She might be more willing to listen to him if she didn’t think of the unfinished letter. But she shook her head, putting the paper away.
“Nonsense. No matter why you came to see me, I’m sure it’s of a greater importance.”
Ah. Sometimes, Aodren forgot how obstinate Josephine could be.
“It is,” he nodded slowly. “Josephine, you’re working too much. When was the last time you took a moment for yourself?”
She blinked, clearly taken by surprise by the question; she quickly collected herself, though, and offered him a polite smile.
“I am touched by your concern for me, Inquisitor, but I assure you I am fine. Unless you have anything to say about my work…” she said, her shoulders tensing.
“No, your work is beyond reproach,” Aodren denied gently. “But you can’t go on like this forever. You need – and deserve – to relax from time to time.”
Josephine didn’t answer right away, a slight frown knitting her brows.
“Besides, I’m sure you’re well aware that a rested mind is more capable of working afterwards,” he added.
Perhaps the possibility to be more efficient would actually convince her to take some rest. She let out a small hum, proving that he might have scored a point – even though her expression remained the same. Aodren came closer, squeezing her forearm softly.
“Is it so hard for you to think about yourself?” he eventually asked.
“My wellbeing shouldn’t come before the Inquisition,” she retorted. “I assure you nothing will impact my work, Inquisitor.”
“I don’t care about that,” Aodren clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Josie, I care about you. You’re invaluable, not only as an Ambassador, but foremost as my friend.”
At that, Josephine looked away, a faint blush painting her cheeks. Did she believe he didn’t consider her as a friend? The idea made him uncomfortable.
“I would hate to order you to rest, but I will if I have to,” he concluded, putting his unease at bay.
The silence stretched for a moment, Aodren patiently waiting for Josie to talk again. For once, she seemed at a loss for words – or rather, hesitant to speak. Was it because he was her superior? Was she afraid to be honest with him?
“If you prefer to talk to someone else, I understand,” he eventually said, taking a step back.
“No!” she denied right away, a horrified look on her face. “No, I… I really appreciate the sentiment, Inquisitor,” she added with a small sigh. “And talking to you is always pleasant. I’m simply not sure…”
She stopped briefly, struggling once again, but when she spoke again, she seemed to have make up her mind.
“I don’t think I know how to relax anymore, Inquisitor,” she admitted, placing her elbows on her desk and crossing her hands in front of her. “I find happiness in working, in knowing I make a difference. I also take pride in it. I need to keep myself busy, otherwise I just…” She sighed, rubbing her knuckles. “My sister says I’m addicted to work, I’m afraid she’s right. I suppose I’m a ‘weirdo’.”
“My dear Josie, we’re all weirdos around here,” Aodren grinned, and she chuckled at his statement. “Is there really nothing you could do to keep yourself busy that doesn’t involve work?” he asked. “Anything at all?” he insisted when Josephine shook her head.
“Well, there was something I used to do, when I was younger…” She hummed thoughtfully, then hastily added, her tone almost panicked: “But I can’t do that here, so it doesn’t matter.”
“What is it?” he asked curiously. “Maybe we could find a way to make it work here.”
Josephine let out a tiny and disappointed laugh, leaning against the back of her chair.
“Unless you find someone willing to let me braid their hair, Inquisitor, I doubt it.”
“You’ll need to be a bit more specific, Josie,” he raised an eyebrow, slightly confused.
“I used to plait my sister’s hair, when we were young,” Josie explained, a fond smile stretching her lips as she recalled memories. “She always wanted sophisticated braids and hairstyles, so I threw myself into hairdressing.”
He couldn’t help but smile too at her soft look, but also at how typically Josephine it was – of course she would give herself fully even for something as trivial as haircare. Knowing her, she had certainly read everything she could about hairstyle in order to master what her sister would ask of her.
“I’m sure you became very good at it,” he hummed.
“Of course I did,” she retorted, sending a not-that-really offended look his way. “But it’s been a very long time since I last practised, I must be very rusty.”
“I’m afraid there’s only one way to know,” he grinned.
“Inquisitor…?” Josie blinked, her tone proving she wasn’t sure what he was implying.
“If you’ll have me as your subject, I’d be happy to lend you my hair,” he nodded.
Josephine gaped openly for a few seconds, then quickly put herself back together when she realised Aodren was chuckling.
“This is a very kind offer – and I can’t deny I’ve always been curious to touch your hair, it looks so silky – but I can’t accept,” she stuttered.
“Why?”
“We have a certain etiquette to follow, even here,” she explained. “Some propriety rules.”
Aodren lifted an eyebrow, clearly not convinced by her excuse.
“Your arguments are usually more persuasive,” he teased her slightly. “Listen,” he added right away, his tone softer. “If you don’t want to take up my offer, then don’t. I’m just trying to help, Josie, but if it’s too much, I understand. If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.”
“In Cullen’s office, I know,” Josephine retorted, her eyes shining with a sparkle of mischief.
“I promise I use the Inquisitor’s room from time to time,” he laughed. “I’ll let you to your work, then,” he concluded. “Just… Think about what we talked, please?”
“I will,” she smiled – and this time, it was a real smile. “Thank you.”
She watched him leave her office, but instead of going back to the letter she had abandoned a moment ago, she took a blank parchment, dipped her quill in the crystal inkpot, and started sketching a few hairstyles she could try. There was no doubt everybody in Skyhold was already jealous of their Inquisitor’s hair, but with her taking charge of his haircare? All of Thedas would soon be drooling in pure admiration and she would make sure of it.
Hidden by the wall, Leliana grinned in satisfaction.