Sunset ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't that Ariadne hated the dresses. She loved trying on clothes and stealing Lanie's gowns, back before she got married off to some handsome noble. It was more that everyone was inspecting her clothes and watching her every move. That tended to sap the joy from things. Too many unfamiliar people whose entire opinions were influenced by the way she looked. Too many judgemental stares which would be applied to the Inquisition.

The Inquisition needed someone better than her. Ariadne wished she had the poise Lanie had. Or Maxwell's sharp intuition. Ophelia would never let her have her confidence either, but she wished for it anyway. She didn't want the twins' magic, that probably wouldn't help her with the whole "I am representing a slightly heretical movement to the Orlesian Nobility and possibly tarnishing my family's relationship to the Chantry" ordeal. Actually, that would benefit her family. Instead the Inquisition was stuck with Ariadne who hated the limelight and struggled with the idea that she had the one thing which could close the Breach. She would just have to make do.

Part of making-do involved selecting a dress for Halamshiral. Such a decision required Dorian, Josephine, and Vivienne, all gathered at her behest, as her selected fashion council. Before the fashion show could commence, the tailor needed to arrive. Her friends arrived a few minutes early, or perhaps the tailor was a few minutes late. "Josephine, we really need to set a dress code. Every time I see a Fereldan noble, I'm convinced a fur rug has risen from the dead to exact its vengeance," complained Dorian, idly kicking his feet over the armrest of a plush seat.

"Dorian, darling, you can comment once you wear something with a sensible amount of buckles," interjected Vivienne, removing a stray hair that had drifted onto her top.

Josephine giggled behind a perfectly manicured hand. Ariadne was greatly intrigued by how she always managed to look calm and in control, even when dealing with stuck-up nobles. Even Mother struggled with that. Today she wore a beautiful teal version of her traditional golden apparel. Its golden accents matched her skin's undertones and made the teal satin look all the richer. A matching teal ribbon held up her hair. It was truly unfair how beautiful Josephine was. Most days she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Josephine or wished she could kiss her. "My dear Vivienne, if we did that no one would recognise the dread Tevinter mage the Inquisitor keeps in her entourage," Josephine teased.

"Everyone knows I only keep Dorian around for his dashing good looks," Ariadne quipped.

Before Dorian could voice his rebuttal, someone knocked at her door. She raised her voice to welcome them in. It was the tailor with a rack of dresses and boxes of shoes. "So it begins. Get along for the next hour and I'll treat you to lunch," she declared.

Trying on the dresses was fun. Choosing just one was truly difficult work because each was beautifully made. The committee she had assembled helped her identify her best options. The four favourites were floor length dresses, each of a unique cut and style. Many of the previous dresses needed to be rejected for being too subtle, too simple, or just the wrong colour for her dark skin.

The dress she ended up choosing was saved by being one of Josephine’s favourites. She’d be lying if she said she kept it mostly because of how the ambassador looked at her. The perfect dress ended up being a ruffled red dress accompanied by a white chemise and decorative stays. The outer skirts easily came off to facilitate an easy change into her armour. The red fabric would hopefully hide any errant stains that decided to… add new decorations to her dress, so to say.

"Darling, which dress do you feel best to move in? We need you dancing and probably fighting throughout the evening," Vivienne suggested as they were debating the merits of each dress. Of course, this eliminated two of the remaining four. The sage green dress required too many layers, and she wasn't sure she could squeeze her armour over it nor would it come off easily. The lavender one had too few layers, and it would be nigh impossible to hide anything in it. So they were summarily rejected, in favour of the red dress which felt the least restrictive.

Now that she had a dress, she needed to get used to it. Even though she was a noble, she got hand-me-downs because children grew too fast for her parents to really care about her clothing preferences. Ariadne also lacked variety in fashion when her parents finally sent her to the chantry. So having something fine just for herself was novel. As far as the Inquisition was concerned, she was practising for Halamshiral, moving around in a dress. In reality, Ariadne was enjoying feeling pretty and considering that maybe dresses could be nice.

There were also changes in Skyhold. A strange number of soldiers were relocated to places like the Hissing Wastes and the Fallow Mire. It took her a while to get a straight answer out of someone, but eventually Krem explained that soldiers found mocking her femininity were being reassigned. However, she wasn’t able to discern just how Cullen knew who to reassign.

Josephine was also spending more time at Ariadne’s side, instructing her on Orlesian manners and how to navigate the Game. She also spent an inordinate amount of time informing the minor nobility that the Inquisitor wasn’t seeking a partner at this time. Leliana left a dossier of important names and topics on her desk, alongside a draft of a letter from Josephine rejecting a marriage proposal on Ariadne’s behalf. There were many words crossed out, implicating that the Inquisitor was already taken.

Apparently, Josephine’s sister had the same idea. Even though her evening was spent dazzling the nobility at Halamshiral (despite her rough manners), meeting Yvette was the highlight of the evening. Ariadne saw a bit of her younger self, bright-eyed and enamoured of the world. So when she asked about some plan to elope with Josephine to the Anderfels, of course Ariadne told Yvette that the bags were already packed. Yvette also gave Ari a bit of insight into her sister: Josephine still had dolls she played with. The Inquisitor found it sickeningly sweet that Josephine still took the time to ensure her dolls could still live their small lives. That was so terribly Josephine.
After an evening of intrigue, assassinations, and fighting for her life, she placed Celene and Briala on the throne. All she wanted was to get off her feet and rest on her laurels. But she knew that there were still goodbyes to say, and one last dance she wanted to have. Decorated in Inquisition finery, a red coat emblazoned with their golden symbol, Josephine was a vision. Her ruffled white shirt and navy waistcoat made her irresistible. Ariadne led Josephine in a slow dance on the balcony, enjoying the closeness of their bodies. Lady Montilyet’s white velvet gloves were the only thing preventing skin on skin contact.

They started by exchanging pleasantries about the events of the evening. Then, Josephine began complaining about her sister. "You really had to tell Yvette we're running away together," Josephine whined. “She’s going to tell my whole family.”

A smirk weaselled its way across Ari’s face. "Of course. I'm ready to abandon the Inquisition with my most trusted advisor and become a Grey Warden. They won't notice we're missing till we're halfway there," she teased. "She’ll be so inspired by our love that she’ll complete an art piece about us."

Josephine sighed heavily and shook her head. "I pay for her tuition, and for what? I haven't seen a painting, much less a sketch out of her yet," she grumbled. Josephine’s grip on her shoulder tightened, a controlled exhale leaving her lips.

Ari squeezed Josephine's waist. "She’ll get there. If I accidentally became the Herald of Andraste, surely she can manage one painting" she affirmed. If Ari's demeanour didn't upset the court, it seemed there was hope out there for youngest daughters everywhere. Even those who were tossed to the Chantry.

"My dear ambassador, I must excuse myself. I am going to my guest rooms to collapse into my bed dramatically and sleep like the dead," she announced. With a sultry smile, she took the hand she was holding during their dance and kissed Josephine's knuckles. "We should do this again sometime. Rest well."

Ariadne didn't see Lady Montiliyet's blush, nor did she hear the soft argument Josephine had with Leliana about the dance. Instead, she admired her looks in the mirror and carefully folded the dress for tomorrow's return to Skyhold.

Chapter Text

Assassins were supposed to target the Inquisitor. Maybe her commander or spymaster. There was really no need to target her ambassador. So when she received a raven while scouring the Emerald Graves, she ordered the expedition to return to camp while she rode as fast as her bog unicorn could manage.

Inquisitor: fair weather here. Scout in five days with updates.Take no excessive risks.

Based on the Inquisition cipher, it really read: Return now. J hurt . 

She was back within three days, thanks to the preternatural stamina of the undead horse and a refusal to stop for much sleep. Ariadne praised the Maker that she chose to ride the bog unicorn instead of her dracolisk on this trip. The dracolisk wouldn’t have made it back as quickly. Skyhold was quiet upon her return, the moonlight reflecting off the helms of her soldiers. As she approached the gate, she slowed briefly to ensure the gate was open for her entry. Swiftly dismounting, she raced up the stairs of the keep to Josephine's quarters. Her steed would take care of itself by terrifying Dennet.

There were additional patrols throughout the keep. Most of them acknowledged the Inquisitor with a salute, but she pushed past them to Josephine’s quarters. Josephine was asleep in her bed, propped up by pillows. Her skin was unnaturally pale, her illness apparent as she slept fitfully. Leliana was seated in a wooden chair beside the bed, her closed eyes suggesting she had fallen asleep. She approached the bedside and shook Leliana awake. Ari quickly found her arm twisted behind her back and a strong arm around her throat. The spymaster’s grasp quickly loosened as she recognised just who she had grabbed. “I apologise, Inquisitor. I didn’t realise you arrived,” Leliana offered, gathering her surroundings.

Ariadne tossed her waterskin to Leliana and moved to the bedside table. She grabbed a washcloth and wiped the sweat off Josephine’s face with it. “I came as soon as I received word,” Ari whispered, not wanting to wake the sleeping ambassador.

After she finished drinking, Leliana responded, “She would like that, I think. Her food was poisoned, no culprit found yet. I have agents investigating, but…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely to Josephine. “If she wakes up she shouldn’t be alone.”

Trevelyan wrung her hands, watching Josephine toss and turn. The only sound in the room was her laboured breathing, her body struggling against the poison in her system. She should have been here to protect Josephine. Cullen and Leliana should have paid more attention. Her nails dug into her skin, fighting back her rising anger. Lanie was always much better at hiding her emotions than Ariadne was. With a deep breath, she released her hands.

“I saw that patrols have been increased. We need you out there investigating. Make use of the Iron Bull’s Chargers as you need, and have someone accompany both you and Cullen at all times,” she dictated, running a hand through her black braids.

Leliana looked up at her from her seat, examining her face. The worry in her eyes was quickly replaced with determination. Her spymaster gave her a nod, and suggested, “I’ll stay here while you get cleaned up. You reek.” Ariadne grimaced, knowing that she was probably correct. Too long in the saddle, with far from enough breaks. She took one of Josephine’s hands in her own, running her thumb over her knuckles. Leliana could take care of her for another hour.

“Think about what you’ll need. She’s valuable to me– the Inquisition. We’ll spare no expense,” she declared, squeezing Josephine’s hand. Ariadne released it to brush the hair stuck to Josephine’s cheek aside and sighed. 

She excused herself and headed up to her quarters. All she could do was blame herself. She should have realised the Inquisition was facing internal threats, especially since the open attempt by the Qun on the Iron Bull. Reasonably, there were far more attempts than she knew about which the Inquisition either interrupted or averted. Still, a successful one grated on her nerves. She pulled off her hunter’s coat and the blue clothing of the Inquisition, hanging her armour on the rack. It was terribly muddy, but she could take care of that later.

Now that she was back, she could wear something comfortable. One of the nice things Josephine had purchased for her. Hopefully that would make her smile when she finally woke up. She ran a bath and selected her outfit: a black underdress and a sage green overdress. She also grabbed a pair of drawers, a simple pair of stays to support her throughout the night, and leather straps to hide weapons. A thick pair of wool socks and sturdy leather boots were also imperative to travel Skyhold.

She slipped into the warm water and cleaned off all the grime from her ride. The water quickly became a murky brown colour. She used a simple soap to clean her skin. Her hair could wait for another evening. Then, she quickly towelled herself dry and put on her outfit. She grabbed a knit shawl she had tossed on her desk and hurried back down to Josephine’s chambers.

Leliana was still awake, having borrowed Josephine’s slate to start writing missives and instructions. She had ink stains all over her hands and a focused look on her face. As soon as Ariadne creaked the door open, Leliana looked up at her and waved her in. “I’m writing to some contacts in Val Royeaux,” she stated as she finished the sentence she was writing. “You look comfortable.”

She softly laughed, moving to take Leliana’s seat. “Go to bed. You can write to Val Royeaux tomorrow,” insisted Ariadne. 

Before the spymaster left, she carefully regarded Ariadne. “Don’t play with her feelings,” she requested.

Where did that come from? “Huh?” Ari stuttered.

“Don’t toy with her. If you truly like her, she probably hasn’t realised. You hurt her or let her get hurt while you’re watching over her…” Leliana threatened. How does someone respond to that? Where did that even come from? Her open mouth likely told Leliana her threats had performed their purpose.

Then, it clicked. Of course Leliana was protected: after losing the warden so long ago she probably clung to her friends jealously. “And if I am truly attracted to her?” she asked, taking a seat.

Leliana grimaced. “Treat her well. Show you truly care for her,” she conceded. “Make her happy.”

“I’m glad she has a friend like you looking out for her,” Ariadne said kindly. “She’d want you to go to bed. You’ll be the first to know when she wakes up.”

A few days later, the herbalists had finally concocted an antidote to the poison. When it was administered to her, Leliana and Ariadne waited side by side, holding her hands until Josephine finally woke up. Her first words were complimenting the Inquisitor on her ensemble.

Chapter Text

Ariadne was incredibly pleased to finally be home from Emprise du Lion. It was far too cold, both there and in Ferelden. She longed for the warmer weather back home in Ostwick, and wished she had more layers on. After so long on the road, she could finally get back into her wardrobe and wear layers instead of her leathers. 

She probably wore this dress the most, her preferred dress for wandering Skyhold. It was a dress very close to her heart, and was apparently all the rage back in Ostwick among the Banns. For something so practical, it was truly shocking that the nobility had adopted the clothing. It might be a slight stretch to call it a dress or even a gown, but considering that it was becoming known as the “Ostwick gown” Ariadne accepted that it was a two piece dress.

The skirts of the dress were simple enough. She could fill it with petticoats on cold days and in casual situations, or wear the thick quilted skirt as-is. The main skirt had carefully arranged slits to ensure that she could ride a mount without risking her modesty. Not that she was particularly modest, but she didn’t need to flash the Inquisition every time she rode a mount. Provided she wore a loose linen top or a chemise beneath it, that could simply be the outfit. The full Ostwick gown was the combination of the skirt and the jacket. The jacket was sewn to look like part of the skirt, and for many nobles they would even be sewn together (removing the practicality of the outfit). The jacket also had a very nice hood for inclement weather or hiding your identity among other ladies wearing similar outfits.

Yet instead of seeking the company of others she went to a quieter place. The Chantry gardens were always a good place for reflection, and at a late hour like this, people preferred to be out carousing, not spending a few hours with the Maker.

It was funny. A few months ago, she was preparing to say goodbye to a life of wild fun and instead give her life to the Maker. She hadn’t been too enthused for the idea, but there weren’t many options for her. Apparently young nobles weren’t lining up to marry the wayward Trevelyan, and without a suitable match she would have to be sent to the chantry. Ariadne hadn’t been wholly suited to a life of worship, but there were worse lives out there.

Sat on a pew, she stared up at Andraste. She knew she wouldn’t speak to her. She also knew that Andraste probably didn’t do half the things the Chant said she did. But she could relate to being a grander than life figure. Ariadne was just a woman. One who was a warrior. A woman who believed in something small. Who nurtured that cause and set it on the warpath. A woman who was deeply afraid of the future, but found comfort in something outside herself.

Ariadne rubbed her hands together and started echoing the words the Revered Mother had trained into her brain. Maker, though the darkness comes upon me; I shall embrace the Light. I shall weather the storm. Did Andraste know her end was coming? Did she fear the enemy, fear losing her loved ones? And for her enemy, did she pray for their hearts to change? Surely, she saw the light leave the Tevinters’ eyes. Ari knew she replayed each killing in her mind, knowing she had just destroyed a family. 

It had to be the Maker’s will. She couldn’t afford to think otherwise. She must weather the storm and destroy Corypheus. I shall endure; What you have created, no one can tear asunder. It needed to be true, for the people depending on her.

She only felt the dampness on her skin when someone lit a candle and murmured a prayer. Their sudden intrusion into her senses caused her to jump, the creaking of the wooden pews scaring them in return. Cullen’s shape quickly registered and she stammered out an apology.

“Oh, if you’re busy I can leave?” Cullen responded, scratching his neck.

Ariadne wanted to laugh, but the desperation of her prayer clung to the edges of her mind, weighing her down. “Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you have to leave Commander,” she stated, searching his face for any indication of his intentions. When she found none, she added, “I wouldn’t mind the company. It’s been a while since I prayed any of the Chant with anyone. A bit awkward when half the Chantry is convinced you’re a heretic.” Her flat attempt at humour earned her a laugh from Cullen and he settled down in the pew next to her.

“I suppose you weren’t reciting Benedictions 4? It’s practically the templar motto,” he prompted. She knew he was looking to her for guidance, for a directive. 

But right now, she wasn’t the Inquisitor. She certainly wasn’t the Herald of Andraste. And Sister Ariadne was back in Ostwick. “I bet it is. I, um. It’s embarrassing really. Trials 1. Prayer for the despairing,” she admitted.

“When I was fresh out of Kinloch, I lived that prayer. You’ll have no judgement from me,” Cullen reassured her. “I’m happy to join you in that. I know I’m not the best at talking. But if you need someone to listen to you, I can do that.”

Ariadne looked up from her palms and carefully considered Cullen. The end of the prayer came to mind. I am not alone. Even; As I stumble on the path;

With my eyes closed, yet I see; The Light is here. Perhaps the light was here.

“If the Conclave didn’t end the way it did, I would have been saying my vows to the Maker now. Instead people consider me her Herald. That what I do is ordained by the Maker. It’s a lot for one person,” she confessed. Saying those words aloud made it feel that much more real. “I still don’t believe in the Maker half the time! He’s a comfort when things are going wrong, when I’m lost. But He never feels real. What feels real are the rickety pews and terrible feeling in my gut.”

She took a deep breath. Her next words wobbled anyway: “I had a path and it’s gone. I can make decisions one by one. But it doesn’t feel like there is a future.”

Ariadne hugged herself. And then a larger set of arms squeezed her. “It’s the burden of command. It’s always easier to follow orders than give,” Cullen’s voice soothed. “But there are always reasons to abandon the well-worn paths. And I have to believe that the person I am today is better than the boy who was trapped in Kinloch and the man who served in Kirkwall. For now, I serve the Inquisition as its Commander and you as your friend. I have to trust in myself and the Maker that when the time comes I’ll choose the best path for myself.”

Ariadne knew deeply in her heart that Cullen was right. It didn’t make it any easier to accept, nor did it reassure her in the way she wanted. But being told her future wouldn’t be satisfying either. “Then as a friend, can you believe that for me too? It’s hard to see sometimes,” she asked, squeezing his arm.

“Thank the Maker, that's what you’re asking of me. If it had anything to do with your inability to finally get with Josephine, I’m afraid even Andraste herself couldn’t help,” he teased.

Ari sighed and rubbed her hands on her face. Wallowing wasn’t a good look on her. Neither was moping about and doing nothing about it. However, doubt still crept into her mind about what could go wrong if she had been misreading Josephine this whole time. “It’s not that hard to tell her. I only risk the smooth functioning of the Inquisition if she doesn’t like me back,” she protested, wriggling out of their light hug.

“Leliana and I rarely agree on anything, but we both can tell she likes you. She might not know it yet, but she does,” he began. A cheeky smile decorated his face as he added, “And frankly we’re both tired of you undressing her with your eyes in the war room."

“You’re lucky I tolerate you. Say a prayer with me or I’m leaving you to your own devices,” Ariadne responded, smacking him on his arm.

Cullen put on a show of folding his hands, and let Ariadne lead him in the Prayer for the Despairing. They both knew she needed divine intervention to finally confess to Josephine.

—

Someone must have heard their prayer. Or at least their conversation in the Chantry. If she was a betting woman, she’d bet on Varric or Sera listening in.

In any case, a light knock at her door woke her up. The morning light suggested she had overslept, and had definitely missed the morning war room meeting. She also probably missed breakfast. Ari called out for the person at the door to enter, sitting up to run her fingers through her hair. It desperately needed to be rebraided, but that could wait. Perhaps she could convince her visitor to help.

Josephine entered with a platter of food and a few cups of coffee. Ariadne must be dreaming. She must be in the Fade because Josephine was normally far too busy to deliver food. Also, it was completely unfair that Josephine was completely put together. Her bed head certainly was a mess. And of course she fell asleep in last night’s clothes.

“It feels like our roles are switched here. I took care of you after you were poisoned,” Ariadne teased. “To what do I owe the honour?”

Josephine sat on the side of the bed, placing the tray on Ari’s lap. “Hardly. I haven’t been seated beside you for days and summoning medics,” she responded, taking a sip of the coffee. “Besides, I’m doing what any good friend would do. Deliver breakfast to our sleepy Inquisitor.” Lady Montilyet tapped Ari on the nose at her last few words.

She scrunched up her face. Josephine covered her mouth and giggled sweetly. Truly unfair. She had Ari at a distinct disadvantage. The food smelled incredibly. The cooks must have cooked some just for her – eggs, potatoes and even a sausage. There were a few pieces of toast with red jam already spread across them.

While she ate, Josephine caught her up on the latest information from the field. Progress had been made into investigating the fake Hard in Hightown series, the missions from the old dowager had been completed, and they were still looking for Tyrdda Bright-axe’s weapon. She also explained that they were awaiting her word to approach Adamant.

Frankly, Adamant scared her a bit. Things could go very wrong and the Inquisition could be very dead. She swallowed the lump in her throat. No time like the present to tell Josephine about how she wanted to be more than friends. Josephine conveniently provided an update on Red Templar sightings in the Emerald Graves after the disappearance of the Venatori there. The perfect segue. 

“Did I ever tell you what Leliana told me while you were recovering? It was shortly after I had arrived back from the Graves,” Trevelyan queried. She looked down at her hands. Well, no better time to tell Josephine she supposed. She either knew or didn’t. And considering how Josephine had taken care of her, she was really hoping she knew.

Josephine shook her head. With a deep breath, Trevelyan explained, “She wanted to make sure I had good intentions with you. Something about me leading you on, being an ‘innocent in love’, and implying that I would break your heart.”

Lady Montilyet quickly set down her coffee, an alarmed look on her face. Her cheeks were tinged red, though that could be her rouge. “An innocent in love? I know plenty about love!” she said indignantly. After realising her words, she continued, “Ah, do not worry, Inquisitor. I meant to say I have read plenty of stories. I have no misunderstandings about the nature of our friendship. We are simply close friends. Of course, others would misconstrue that.”

Oh. Perhaps Josephine was straight after all. Or maybe didn’t realise she liked women? Then again, Cullen had suggested she hadn’t considered them as a couple yet. Or maybe Ari was just deluding herself that someone she liked would like her back. Something that she knew wasn’t true, because she was a catch and anyone with eyes would want her.

“I guess I wasn’t flirting hard enough then,” Ariadne said, staring at the embers of the fire from the night before.

“What-” Josephine began. Ari stared at Josephine, clearly dragging her gaze up and down her body.

“I want you Josephine. I guess I didn’t make that clear. Or use enough excuses to stay by your side,” Ariadne interrupted. She leaned closer, breakfast abandoned as she honed her gaze on Josephine’s lips. Ari really wanted to kiss them. Hopefully Josephine felt the same way. 

She cupped Josephine’s cheek, ensuring their eyes met. Lady Montilyet’s mouth was slightly agape, her eyes betraying the speed at which her mind ran. 

“So let me make this very clear, Lady Montilyet. I am very attracted to you. When I am outside of Skyhold, I am wondering about your wellbeing to the point where Leliana sends me encrypted messages about you. I…” Ariadne paused, withdrawing her touch and looking to the side.

It was Josephine who took her by the chin, so their eyes met again. “You?” she prompted.

“I want to know if you feel the same. If I can kiss you and call you mine. I’d really fucking like that. Is… Is this the part where I get to kiss you?” Ariadne finished.

A soft smile wormed its way across her face. “After a declaration like that? I’d be terribly offended if you didn’t,” Josephine answered, using her grip on Ari’s chin to pull her into a kiss.

It felt like breathing air for the first time after being underwater for an eternity. The kiss was light and loose, their lips no longer strangers. She felt free and entrapped and entirely enchanted. Ari knew the kiss was brief but she wanted to be like that forever. When their lips separated, Ari needed to know it was real. Their foreheads remained in contact, lips separated by only a few centimetres.

“Please tell me I’ll get to do that again?” Ari whispered, eyes closed.

“Many more times,” Josephine breathed, reconnecting their lips.

Their coffee was cold by the time they were finished, the gulf of space between them a distant memory in their minds.

Chapter Text

Ariadne was no stranger to a duel. She had watched Maxwell duel for his wife’s hand and her father duel to maintain the dignity of House Trevelyan when some noble slighted them at Aunt Lucille’s ball. 

Never in her life had she expected to duel for the honour of another woman’s hand. This was quite possibly the most exciting way she could bring shame to her family. It was also something the world would have to accept, as Ariadne was the one fighting off Corypheus. Now that there was one thing she desperately wanted for her future, it was up to her to claim it. There wasn’t a world where she would let someone take away the one thing she chose for herself in this whole Inquisition.

Duels were just as much battle skill as they were spectacle. Ariadne intended to deliver. Trevelyan women were usually the warriors of the family, so much so that ceremonial armours and formal armours were almost always accompanied by loose, calf-height skirts, if not a full dress. Her formal breastplate was destroyed alongside the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

She requested her own version of the Trevelyan family armour from Dagna and Harritt. The cuirass was made of smooth silverite, boasting her intricate family crest engraved into the armour, surrounded with a woven border integrating the Inquisition's symbol. Wyvern scale lamellar protected her shoulders and upper arms, allowing her dress to show through on her forearms and to highlight her skill with the blade. Any decent Trevelyan warrior's dress would be intact by the end of battle. Her waist would boast a thick leather belt painted with a simple repeating design. Off the base of the belt hung two panels of leather lamellar, offering some protection to her thighs.

Lastly, she commissioned a special circlet. As Lady Inquisitor, she took many steps to portray herself as a woman of austere tastes. Her dresses were nicer than most of her followers, and her armour was clearly much better than the average soldier's, but she hoped her work on the fortress and the investment into her people showed that she was not another noble overtaxing her people. She also never wore a crown, circlet, or any fancy hat. She preferred her head to be protected by a helmet, but the warrior women of house Trevelyan wore their hair in braids and adorned their foreheads with beautiful circlets and temple rings. She would do such.

One day, she received a letter confirming the time and place of the duel. In the middle of Val Royeaux. That would do perfectly. A week before the duel, she snuck out of Skyhold in the dark of nighty atop a normal horse, for once. Her new armour was stored in the saddle bags, as she made her way to the royal city of Orlais.

The day of, she recited the prayer before the siege of Minrathous, as she prepared for battle, first putting on an underdress. Her embroidered chemise came next, bearing the intricate designs of blue feathers and blocks of painted fabric. Her new armour pieces followed, completed by belt. As she placed the circlet on, she looked into the mirror for the first time. She looked as regal as her sister.

"My Maker, know my heart: Take from me a life of sorrow. Lift me from a world of pain," she recited. In that moment, it didn't matter how real Andraste or the Maker were. What mattered was the choice before her, the active rejection of a future chosen for her and a different future chosen for Josephine. If judgement day came, the Maker would know in this moment she was guided by courage, duty, and honour. 

Just before noon, Ariadne Trevelyan waited near the appointed spot. She was observing the crowd in the area, pleased that there would be plenty of people to observe her victory. Then she saw him. Lord Otranto. He stood out from the masked Orlesians.

He introduced himself, threw her a sword. A rapier. Not her preferred weapon, but one she could use. They exchanged a few words before they began dueling in earnest. While she adapted to the new weapon in her left hand, Otranto pressed his advantage. He clearly was familiar with swordplay. 

Their blades met two, three, four times. Each time, she managed to parry his onslaught of swipes. "Not bad, Inquisitor. It's a shame the fun won't last," he crowed, stabbing towards her left breast. 

She stepped away and returned with a jab to his left thigh, which he barely dodged away from. A slight graze, perhaps. "It will be a shame, when Lady Trevelyan leaves with the right to Josephine's hand. The Inquisitor couldn't be bothered to show up," she taunted in return. The rapier was feeling better, but it still wasn't quite right. She deflected a few more blows coming her way.

"Oh, that backwater house?" he laughed. "The only thing they produce are mediocre parties from an ancient dowager."

Ariadne would have felt insulted if she cared about Otranto's opinion. She dared not falter here. Focused on the incoming blows, she swiped away two more before pressing back onto the attack. "As if the Otrantos are known for more than cheating the Terrazas. Oh wait, am I not supposed to say that here?" she ridiculed.

That sent her opponent into a flurry. Otranto began charging her, pushing her back closer to the crowd. She needed to think quickly, to ensure that no bystanders got involved. "You brought that slander here? It's good that Lady Montilyet isn't here, as exquisite as I have heard her appearance to be," he jabbed,  a few wild swings ringing off the lamellar on her shoulders. "It would be a shame to explain to my betrothed why I've skewered the Inquisitor."

Ariadne's body took over while her brain refused to give up. She drove him back with a series of stabs, until they locked blades. "Oh don't worry. I'll be sure to tell her you fought bravely," she spat, staring at him with more fury than she'd ever felt before.

It all disappeared the moment she heard Josephine cry out for the duel to stop. She almost immediately lowered her weapon and sought out her girlfriend in the crowd. The modicum of satisfaction she felt watching her brush off Otranto to speak to her disappeared when she demanded, "What do you think you are doing?"

She blinked a few times before helplessly gesturing to Otranto. "He- If I dueled him dishonour would fall on my family and myself, not yours. That and I really couldn't stand the idea of you marrying him," she explained. Ariadne had never felt so strongly about doing something. Of course she should have asked if this was something Josephine wanted. Stupidly impetuous, Ariadne was. That's what Ophelia would say.

"You don't get to decide that for me. Do not forget that the Inquisition needs you. I need you. And yet you threw yourself into danger! Why do this? Why risk everything we've built? Why risk your life?" she implored. Ari couldn't determine whether Josephine was angry, hurt, confused, or betrayed. Maybe some combination. She hated she caused this.

Josephine deserved the truth. "It's because I'm in love with you!" she responded. She let her weapon drop to the ground. The small surprise on Josephine's face and sappy smile drowned out the crowd around her. "Y- you do?" she asked softly, stepping toward Ariadne.

"Maker, I love you so much. It's a terrible affliction I couldn't get rid of even if I wanted to. It makes me incredibly selfish and absolutely despise the idea of seeing the woman I love married to someone else," she confessed. Josephine responded even better than she could have imagined. Her girlfriend threw herself into Ariadne's strong arms and kissed her passionately for all of Orlais to see. There they declared through action that they objected to hiding their love. That two women were openly loving each other, and one of them just happened to be the Lady Inquisitor. When they finally broke the kiss, Josephine whispered, "I love you too." It was only for Ariadne to hear.

Lord Otranto awkwardly cleared his throat behind them. "Ahem. I had assumed you were engaged in a passionate or convenient affair. I am not fool enough to stand in the way of true affection. The Otrantos regretfully withdraw the terms of our agreement," he announced, with a curt bow.

"Thank you," Josephine responded with a curtsy.

"Do not thank me. I know when I am outmatched," he stated, withdrawing from the two of them. The man disappeared into the dispersing crowd.

"Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm not cross with you," Josephine tutted, once they had less of an audience. With a sigh, she groaned, "But did you really have to get such beautiful armour? And the dress? Gah, I don't know what to do with you!"

Ariadne's head was still spinning with the events of the afternoon, but her tongue knew exactly what to say. "Why don't you help me take off this armour as a thank you for breaking off that proposal? I'm sure I can think of many ways I can apologise to you," she whispered, letting desire creep into her voice. 

Based on the look on Josephine's face, they were about to get really busy. "Where are you staying?" Josephine demanded. "I hope you aren't too attached to that dress because I really need to tear it off you."

With a laugh, she led Josephine to the apartments Gaspard had kindly lent to her to make good on her promise.

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.