Chapter Text
Once she disbanded the Inquisition, she’d taken a few months to return to Ostwick, to prove to her remaining family that she still lived. She also went to Ostwick to extend a very important offer to Bann Maxwell Trevelyan, who had taken over since her father decided to retire. It made talking to him all the more difficult.
“I don’t care that you want to spend Satinalia here. It’s colder here than in Antiva City and my girlfriend has a nice estate,” Ariadne argued, emphasising her point by using her remaining gesturing to the snow outside. “Even better: you don’t have to pay staff for dinner and they’ll be grateful to spend the holidays with their families.”
Maxwell was seated in his throne, looking much more like a pouty young man than he did a Bann. Dear Andraste, please say that Ariadne looked nothing like him when she was Inquisitor. It did him no favours and made him look so bitter. “I understand that you wish to… Spend some time with your friend-” he began.
“Girlfriend. She is my girlfriend,” Ariadne insisted. “I don’t have sex with my friends.”
Maxwell groaned and rubbed his face. “Fine. Girlfriend. You want to see her. But now that you’re back you really should be sworn into the chantry. Your friend is the Divine right? She can get you some nice cushy title and then you’ll be set,” he tried.
“You don’t get it Max. I practically ruled Orlais and Ferelden for three years, and you’re asking me to, what? Pretend I didn’t lose my arm saving the world? Give up the one person I want most so I can live a comfortable life? Fuck that, brother. If that’s the life you want for me, I’ll leave the family. Do you really want House Trevelyan to lose the honour of being the Inquisitor’s family?” she snapped. It was always difficult to speak with Max. He was twenty years older than her. It meant his oldest child, her niece, was only a few years younger than her. Speaking of her niece, she was always a sore spot for Maxwell. The two of them always brought out the worst behaviour in each other. “I bet if I asked Nola she’d come with me.”
Maxwell rose out of the throne and stormed over to Ariadne. Despite having face down Corypheus, one of the magisters who stormed the Golden City and spoiled it, she still cowered away from her brother. “You will not bring Nola into this,” he growled. “She will stay here. We will not go.”
“Nola is a grown woman and at her age I was leading the Inquisition. Be protective of her all you like. I’m asking Papa and then I’m going to Antiva,” she demurred, slowly stepping away. It felt as if she would make one wrong move and he would snap.
Maxwell sighed. “Papa will want to go with you. He’s been beside himself since Mama passed and you always looked the most like her.” He wrung his hands and looked up to the ceiling. “You’re not my stupid kid sister that I have to clean up after anymore. You ran a castle and an army. The least I can do is meet your girlfriend and try not to embarrass you.”
Ariadne looked sharply at him, appraising him. “I promise they’ll like being there. And if you really want to make it up to me, ask Nola if she wants to run the place in your absence. At least give her the choice to come,” she insisted. The way her brother groaned indicated that she had won.
—
They arrived in Antiva a few days before the days of celebration began. Ariadne introduced herself and her family (excluding Nola, who was proudly running the Trevelyan Keep) to Josephine’s. They all seemed to be getting on quite well, despite her apprehensions. She was also surprised to once again meet Lord Otranto, who this time asked them to speak as friends. Apparently, losing the duel didn’t ruin his marriage opportunities with the Montilyets, as they had been discussing a betrothal to Yvette. They were truly a sweet pair, watching them interact. “I can’t believe he’s the reason she completed a painting. Not because we saved the world. Not because of the beauty of Antivan landscapes. He mentions a singular battle from history and she creates the most beautiful battlefield I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen you on the battlefield,” Josephine groused, one evening while they were walking the gardens.
Though her main quest in coming here was to steal Lord Montilyet for a very important discussion. She found him in his study, carefully reading what she assumed was a contract. “Lord Montilyet, may I have a word?” she asked, knocking on the door. He waved her in and she waited for him to finish what he was doing.
“How can I help you, Lady Ariadne?” he queried, setting down his papers. He was quite a bit like Josephine, where he trained his vision on you and observed your every little move. The lord was astute.
She squeezed her hands into fists and released them. “I would like your permission to wed your daughter, Josephine. She has been through my side throughout the Inquisition, and I could think of no greater honour than to serve by her side now that my duty to Thedas is complete,” she explained. Ariadne released a shaky breath.
Lord Montilyet leaned back in his chair and cackled. She froze. Was it that unthinkable? Her marrying Josephine? “If I’m being completely honest, I was under the impression she already married you,” he chuckled, grasping his sides. With a few deep breaths, he returned to a normal tone of speech. “Any objections we had when we first heard of you don’t matter anymore. We’ve seen how she looks at you, how you treat her. Tales of the Inquisition have reached Antiva. If anything, we should be asking if she is suitable for you!”
Ariadne visibly relaxed, and responded sheepishly, “More than suitable. I’m not sure if I’d be alive if it weren’t for her.”
Lord Montilyet rose out of his seat and wrapped Ariadne in a warm hug. “We’ll be delighted to have you in our family. Let us know what we can do for you,” he said, giving her one last squeeze before letting her go.
—
Proposing to Josephine felt a lot easier than asking her out. She arranged to have a picnic in the gardens with Josephine. Her favourite foods, her favourite desserts, and most importantly, the engagement ring were all in the basket. As they sat there that evening, wrapped in their cloaks in the warm winter air typical in Antiva, they fed each other and shared stories.
“Do you remember how I asked you out?” Ariadne asked, laying with her in Josephine’s lap. Her girlfriend looked down at her fondly, running her fingers through her hair and along her scalp. “Of course. I delivered you breakfast and you kindly informed me that you were, in fact, trying to seduce me and not just be friends. I really was a disaster wasn’t I?” she recounted. “Why do you ask?”
“So I spoke to your father last night,” she began, sitting up and putting an arm around Josephine. Her girlfriend leaned into her touch, cuddling up to Ariadne. Innocent in love then, and apparently still innocent enough to not realise she was about to be proposed to. “Funnily enough, he was surprised when I told him we weren’t married.”
“Of course we aren’t married! They would have been invited, I would be wearing a ring. Besides, we haven’t even really had time to discuss marriage. My parents likely wouldn’t approve of the match anyway, and-” she rambled. She cut herself off when she looked over and Ariadne was holding a silver ring, with a thin line of green gemstones inlaid down the centre.
“Princess, will you marry me? I think I’ve made you wait long enough,” Ariadne asked.
Josephine bowled her over and immediately began kissing her. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” she affirmed between kisses.
—
When they returned to the estate, dresses clearly rumpled, they were mercilessly teased and endlessly congratulated. Adorno and Ariadne got into a play fight as they reenacted the duel for the gathered family. And for the first time in three years, she felt certain she knew where her future led, and all paths were at Josephine’s side.