Work Text:
Better This Way
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Mia Rutherford was a lot of things – wife, sister, daughter, head of the house, shop owner… the list went on and on, ever growing and changing with each new role that she was forced to take, though the one role that she had not had the pleasure of adding to that list was mother. Though at times Mia certainly felt like the parental figure in the home between Branson occasionally stooping to dubious means to help his family and Rosalie gleefully disappearing from time to time. Their mother hadn’t really been the same since their father passed away during the Blight, leaving Mia irrevocably in charge of the family. Luckily, they’d had enough money to purchase a moderately sized farm in South Reach. Unfortunately, their father had been the one with the talent to work the land, even if Branson and her husband certainly tried their hardest. Of course, if they’d had the money to actually hire a few farm hands, it would probably help significantly.
So Mia had secured a job at the local florist, putting in as many hours as she could, working to make ends meet. When the original owner passed away a few years ago, the woman had left the shop to Mia, as she’d had no family herself. And since it was the only real source of income the family had, Mia had to put more money into the shop just to keep it afloat. Cullen had always sent what money he could, but Templars weren’t paid very much as the Chantry oversaw their basic needs. He’d been sending more since joining the Inquisition, but still…
A sudden knock at the door made Mia jump, jerking her from her reverie as she dropped the shears in her hand. Her eyes darted immediately to the clock, feeling her eyebrows furrow – it was nearly midnight, who could possibly be at the door at this hour? Mia stared at the door, wondering if the person on the other side might go away if she didn’t answer. She counted her heart beats, jumping again when the person knocked once more. They clearly had no intention of leaving.
With a heavy sigh, Mia made for the door, absently picking up the cleaver that had been laying on the counter. She wasn’t a fighter by any means, but she would do whatever she must to protect her family.
When she reached the door, Mia gathered up and armed herself with all of her courage and pulled the door open only far enough to see outside, keeping the knife out of sight. The light from the inside caused the hood of the cloak to shadow the stranger’s face, but from their build, Mia could discern that it was a woman. What she could also see was the light reflection of light off the cuirasses of the dozen or so men a few yards behind her.
Mia felt her heart drop into her stomach – could they have been there about Cullen?
“Y-yes? Can I help you?”
“I’m so sorry for the late hour, but I’m looking for Mia Rutherford,” the woman said.
Mia nodded, the knot in her stomach tightening almost painfully. “That’s me,” she confirmed.
At her admission, a thin hand came up and pushed back the hood, revealing the woman underneath. She had a kind face with elegant, aristocratic features and framed by white blonde hair that was sheared against her scalp on one side of her head. Mia guessed her to be about the same age as Branson, though inexplicably aged by a darkness that haunted the depths of her green eyes.
“I’m sorry if I woke you, my name is Beau Trevelyan. I would hoping I might have a few moments of your time despite the hour,” she answered.
Beau Trevelyan.
Mia felt her eyes widen as her grip slackened on the knife before it clattered to the floor. Maker help her, The Inquisitor, The Herald of Andraste herself was standing in Mia’s doorway.
“I – uhm – of course! Please, Your Worship, come in!” Mia shot out in a rush, opening the door further and motioning her inside.
“Thank you,” the Inquisitior replied, then turned to look at the men behind her. She lifted her hand, gesturing her forefinger in a circular motion, signaling the men to set up a perimeter before stepping inside.
Mia closed the door, unable to quell her growing panic. If the Inquisitor was making a visit in person, whatever news she had to deliver couldn’t possibly be good. Mia knew what had happened to Haven, all of Ferelden did, but she had yet to hear from Cullen in the few months since. Maker, please let Cullen be okay.
The Inquisitor crouched down, picking up the knife that Mia had dropped. “Expecting trouble?” she inquired, though a small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. Truly the Inquisitor must have found it laughable that Mia would be able to defend herself if she had truly intended to do any harm.
“These are strange times,” Mia offered. She moved into the kitchen to pour herself and the Inquisitor a cup of tea. “Can I get you anything, Your Worship?”
“Please,” she said suddenly, and Mia could hear the wince at the edge of her voice. “It’s just Beau, or My Lady if absolutely necessary.”
Mia nodded. “Of course.” Maker’s Breath, for the life of her, Mia couldn’t get her hands to stop shaking. After another moment, she couldn’t take the silence that had expanded between them and whirled around. “Please,” she begged, “is Cullen okay?”
Beau’s eyes went wide. “Oh, Maker, I’m such an idiot!” she sighed. “Cullen’s perfectly fine. I’m so sorry, I can only imagine what you must have been thinking. Forgive my ineptitude – I’m still getting used to being in charge.”
She released the breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. But whatever relief Beau’s admission had given her was quickly replaced by annoyance. Why was it that Cullen constantly felt the need to keep her in the dark!? Mia understood that he didn’t want her to worry, but really, would a short note telling that he was okay too much to ask? If she could, Mia would march herself to wherever the Inquisition had moved and give Cullen a right thrashing.
“Well,” Mia breathed, moving to the table where Beau had seated herself, offering the cup of tea. “Now that I know my stubborn brother is okay, what can I do for you, Inquisitor?”
Beau took the cup with a smile, pursing her lips together a moment later, almost as if she didn’t quite know where to start. “I would like… to place a small compliment of soldiers here to protect your family,” she answered, slowly.
“I don’t understand... are we in danger?”
“Not… necessarily,” Beau replied. She released a sigh as she leaned nearer. “It’s come to light that the Inquisition is dealing with a very dangerous group of people… Cullen is the only member of my inner circle that really has family that could be used against him.”
Mia was flabbergasted. “Is… is there really a chance that someone would come after us?” She felt that previous panic return, tightening her stomach. The idea that someone would come after her family just to get to the Inquisition through Cullen absolutely terrified her.
“It’s a high enough risk that I can’t ignore it,” she replied. “The general of the cult that’s opposing us is a man named Samson. He was a Templar with Cullen in Kirkwall, and they were even bunk mates for a while. The last thing I want is for Cullen to be cornered into a position where he’s forced to choose between the Inquisition and his family.”
“You must really think this might happen, to come here yourself.”
At that, Beau gave a rather chilling smile that raised the hair on the back of Mia’s neck. It was predatory and dark, and Mia would hate to see the people that smile was aimed at on a regular basis because it absolutely chilled her bones. She had no doubt suddenly that Beau was something terrifying in a fight.
“This isn’t something that’s commonly known about me,” Beau began, “but I was a mercenary for… a number of years, and if there was one thing I learned it was that the best way to go after a mark was to target their family, or the people they cared about.”
None of this explained, though, why the Inquisitor was there in person. And if the Inquisition was going to give her family protection, then why wouldn’t Cullen come along, or at least send a bloody letter? Given the fact that Beau had shown up with a small squad of soldiers she clearly expected Mia to agree.
Then, it occurred to her. “Cullen doesn’t know about this, does he?”
Beau shook her head, and Mia recognized the guilt that flashed across her tightening expression. “I’m afraid he doesn’t,” she admitted, rubbing her one gloved hand across her forehead. Mia saw an unearthly, green glow flicker beneath the leather. “I would actually prefer that Cullen not know… he has a lot to worry about, I’d just like to alleviate some of the pressure he’s under.”
Mia hid the smile that crept its way across her face with the rim of her tea cup. The softness that had relaxed Beau’s expression, the tenderness in her eyes… the Inquisitor cared for Cullen far beyond the parameters of their professional relationship. Though Mia was happy that her brother had someone who clearly cared for him, she felt a stab of pity for Beau because she knew her brother was likely in no state to return Beau’s affections.
“If you’re going to be placing Inquisition soldiers here, wouldn’t my brother find out? He is the Commander of your army after all,” Mia said.
“About that…” Beau trailed off. “They’re not actually Inquisition soldiers, so they won’t be reporting to Cullen.”
“Then… who are they going to answer to?” she wondered.
“Me,” the Inquisitor answered with a breath. “The men I brought with me were formerly members of family’s guard. When they found out I was leading the Inquisition, they left my family’s service. Many of them grew up on farms, all of them have exemplary records of service, and it does appear that you could use some help around here.”
“… As much as I appreciate the offer, My Lady, we don’t have enough money to pay them for working here,” Mia told her, unable to hide the shamed blush that colored her cheeks.
Beau nodded thoughtfully, looking around at the sparsely, though lovingly, decorated home. What must she be thinking? Mia wondered. Beau came from nobility, that much Mia knew, so what luxuries had her childhood been filled with? Luxuries that Mia and her siblings could have only dreamt of, she was certain. The evidence of her family’s financial hardship must have been glaringly obvious to the Inquisitor.
Mia saw Beau’s gaze land on the arrangement of flowers that she’d been working on before the Inquisitor had knocked on the door. She pushed herself up from the chair, crossed to the work bench where she began to admire Mia’s work. She watched as Beau delicately picked through the flowers, careful not to disrupt the integrity of the arrangement, bending forward to inhale the blossoms.
“These are lovely,” Beau complimented her with a smile. “You’re a florist?”
Mia nodded. “Yes, the shop I run, I inherited from the former owner because she had no family of her own.”
Beau nodded again. “I think that atmosphere of Skyhold would be much improved by bright floral arrangements. I’m sure it would improve morale as well,” she stated, her gentle smile widening. “I can arrange for payments to be set up with Josephine Montilyet, our Ambassador, if you would be amenable.”
Mia suddenly felt like she’d been slapped. Beau was offering for probably several dozen floral arrangements to be sent to Skyhold, and Mia was certain that the amount she would offer would be nothing to turn her nose up at. Perhaps they would finally have enough money to comfortably support her family.
Coughing suddenly, Mia covered her mouth as her throat tightened. She felt tears crowding in the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks because no one had ever shown such care or concern for her family, least of all a near stranger.
“Why are you so adamant about this?” she wondered quietly.
Beau smiled ever wider, the tenderness returning to her features as she came back to the table. “There was a lot of suspicion revolving around my involvement regarding the explosion at the Conclave. Cullen was really the only person in charge at the time who showed any genuine civility toward me,” she explained. “I owe him a lot, and he’s become a close friend – I respect him greatly.”
“You care about him.” It wasn’t a question.
Beau seemed to be the kind of person who possessed a high level of control, so it didn’t surprise Mia that she didn’t blush. “I must be so obvious!” she laughed. “Honestly, it would kill me if I had to deliver news to him that something happened to his family, especially considering the reason he does distance himself from you is to keep you safe.”
“You should tell him,” Mia insisted.
She shook her head. “It’s better this way. The last thing I would want is for Cullen to feel obligated to accept how I… feel about him simply because I’m the Inquisitor. His previous commanding officer abused his trust, I refuse to do that to him.”
Better for who? Mia asked herself.
In the end, Mia accepted the Inquisitor’s proposal. They worked out a few more details with Beau promising that she would be contacted by the Inquisition’s Ambassador to set up payments. Through it all Beau was absolutely determined that Cullen was not to know about anything. ‘Cullen’s proud,’ was her reasoning, Beau didn’t want Cullen to feel inadequate, as though he couldn’t protect his own family. Mia hated that part of the deal, hated fiercely to keep something from Cullen, knowing how angry her brother would be when he found out that Beau had gone behind his back even though her intentions were pure.
Mia watched her go with a heavy heart, wondering just how long it would take Cullen to realize that Beau was in love him.