#feeling extremely emo about solavellan today

[cedarmoons]

By care of Varric, a letter finds its way to Ariala Lavellan's desk. The envelope is plain parchment, with a wax seal that seems like it was stolen from Commander Cullen's desk. In alternating handwriting (shaky to the point of being unreadable, then blocky and deliberate as if written with spiteful patience) littered with shorthand, it reads: "To Inq L - We apprec. your good will & patience. Cullen still worm w/o spine, much fun to argue. My lttl brother humiliated - does nt like Cul, but" 1/2

2/2 “but he – IS A PROUD THING. WE’RE SORRY FOR THE DAMAGE TO YOUR TAVERN, AND HOPE THIS SIZEABLE DONATION TO YOUR CAUSE WILL COVER THE COST, AND THEN SOME. HOPEFULLY TO ADD TO LIBRARY - OUR DAUGHTER, TARAN, ENJOYED IT. HUNT WELL.” It is signed “V. F. T. E. & C. Hawke” with a baby’s handprint in the corner smearing up from the inky corner where the ink well apparently spilled. The letter accompanies a truck of gold bouillon from Kirkwall’s treasury. 

*

Ariala knows she is not awake enough to even attempt to read this. She squints at the scrawling writing, then looks up at Josephine, who stands in front of her desk with her hands clasped.

“You look immaculate as usual, Josie,” she says. Josephine smiles for the first time that morning and dips her head. Ariala sighs, massaging her forehead as she looks back down at the letter. “So… what’s this about damage to the tavern?”

“You might want to see it for yourself,” Josephine says, delicately. Ariala mutters a curse under her breath and drops the letter, rubbing her hands over her face. Josephine takes the letter and neatly folds it back into the stack of papers on her clipboard. “But the funds that Messere Hawke provided will be more than enough for any and all repairs.”

“Was Bull involved?”

“Witnesses allege yes. It was apparently a friendly spar that… shall we say… quickly grew out of hand. Cullen was involved. He has refused to see either Leliana or me, but Jim reports he has a black eye.”

“Creators.” Ariala stifles a yawn. “When is Hawke leaving? I don’t want to kick her out, but, uh…”

“I have asked Master Tethras that very same question,” Josephine replies primly, her smile shifting into something less strained. “He assured me their departure would occur within the week, and that they have already ordered more gold as further apologies for the damage to the tavern.”

Within the week. That was doable, but they’d have to keep an eye on the Kirkwall crew until they left again. After Josephine leaves, Ariala cleans her teeth and gets dressed, then goes downstairs to the rotunda.

Solas is already awake. She pads over with soundless footsteps, greeting him with a mwah on his shoulder and her arms wrapping around his waist. He does not startle, but does turn his head slightly. She rewards him by straining up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.

“I’m so grateful for you,” she tells him. He arches an eyebrow, a wordless question, and she says, “I know you’ll never destroy my tavern.”

He asks no questions, but leans into her touch with a soft chuckle. He turns in her hold, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close, and they stay like that for a little while, quiet and tender in their own solitude.