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Slow Burning Dreamer	By : Breathing2nd Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 4
- 5
- 6
She was tired. More than tired, it seemed. Sleep had not found her again. Her mind had been too busy to rest and now she stood in the vast room that held her war table unable to stop yawning. Her pale hair was tied back but somehow crooked. She’d skipped a button on her tunic, leaving an awkward shift in the fabric that she scarcely noticed. In her hands she gripped a steeping cup of tea so black it looked unhealthy.

The sun poured into the room and she swore she could hear the sound of cheerful birds sweeping back and forth from the windows. Both were grating in their own ways. Just as this meeting would be its own sort of annoyance. Why did Josephine insist on meeting so early if she wasn’t going to be the first one to arrive? Isala rarely arrived before her three advisors, but today, she stood alone in the large space, waiting. The map of Ferelden and Orlais spread out before her with various pins, daggers, metal and wooden figures lining its cities and outlying lands. There were a few scrolls piled up on either side of the table, some more unraveled than others. Her fingers reached out and brushed against one of the little metal horses as she brought her tea to her lips.

“Don’t let Josephine see you doing that. The woman will have a fit.” Cullen’s warm, masculine voice filled the room as he entered through the massive doors behind her. Isala smiled to herself, wrapping that sound around her, but Solas’ voice cut through her thoughts. You do not love Cullen? Guilt swelled within her and she shook the confusing dream from her mind.

Isala turned halfway around to greet the human Commander. “Perhaps I’ll move one only slightly. That would drive her mad wouldn’t it?” The elf teased. Cullen smiled as he came to stand on the opposite side of the large table. He was dressed as he always was, as if enemy soldiers could begin pouring through the gates at any moment. She thought, perhaps he had lied about not sleeping in his armor. It seemed impossible that he should get himself in and out of it every morning and night. Isala could scarcely button a single garment.

“Or better, exchange one of the metal horses for a wooden one. The change is hardly a thing, but it will be enough to ruffle her…ruffles?” Cullen lifted an eyebrow, his brown eyes suddenly full of mischief. The Commander reached across the table at the same moment Isala’s hand moved to swap the pieces. Their fingers brushed against one another, though his were clad in leather, but still, it garnered a similar reaction from both. Isala and Cullen drew their hands back instinctively and Cullen cleared his throat.

Isala ignored the exchange. “Playing a prank on our Ambassador, Commander? Sera would be proud.” The elf smiled and took another sip of her tea. Cullen made a sound that reminded the Inquisitor of something Cassandra would do. It bordered on disgust.

“Just following our Inquisitor’s lead.” He admonished and quickly swapped the pieces. His eyes gazed up at her from the table. There was a playfulness in them that she adored. A boyish charm that spread warmth through her. Cullen had a way of putting her at ease, without her even realizing it.

His smile faltered a little and he stood straighter. “Inqu—Isala, about last night…”

“Cullen, don’t.” She held up a hand to silence him. “Just let it be.”

“I want to explain.” He pushed, and Isala let him feel the full weight of her eyes. The Commander, however, was unwavering beneath her stare. “I feel as if I may have given you reason to think your advances are unwanted.”

Isala’s gaze fell then. She couldn’t keep looking him in the eyes if this was what he wanted to talk about. The whole ordeal had been awkward enough without him trudging it back up for discussion.

“They’re not.” Cullen continued, his voice gentle and kind.

The Inquisitor’s gaze rose once more to the Commander as he slowly moved out from behind the table. She tried to hide her expression behind her tea cup, taking a slow sip to keep from saying anything. She wanted to hear this.

“Perhaps ill timed, but not unwanted.” He took a step toward her and she felt her blood pressure spike. She thought she might break the delicate tea cup from holding onto it too tightly. She wanted to go to him and bury herself against his warmth and strength. Creators help her, but there was something about this human that set her blood aflame and left her body aching.

“What was ill timed? I was certain of the hour.” Josephine’s cultured voice fluttered into the room in a whirlwind of silk and ruffles.

Cullen straightened and cleared his throat, while Isala spun to face her Ambassador as she strode into the room. She felt her cheeks flaming, though she didn’t know why and could scarcely hide the grin behind her tea cup.

Josephine stopped just short of the war table and glanced from the Inquisitor to the Commander. She gave them both a thoughtful once over before smiling in the awkward silence.

“Why do I get the feeling I’ve interrupted something?” She asked, slowly glancing from one member of the council to the other. Isala gave her best shrug, while Cullen made his way back to the other side of the war table.

“Because you probably did, Josie.” Leliana slipped into the room from an almost hidden side door. Had she remained quiet, none would have even noticed her enter. The spymaster was smiling like she had a secret and Isala felt her stomach do a little flip as she neared. Leliana helped Josephine with the small box she carried in her free hand and the look she gave the Ambassador wasn’t lost on the Dalish elf. “This won’t be enough to smooth things over with her.” Leliana cautioned before bringing the box to her nose and taking a long draw from it. The redhead’s eyes closed as a satisfied smile spread across her lips. “Mmmm, but they do smell divine.”

“Smooth what over? With whom?” Isala asked.

Josephine shooed Leliana away from the small box and gave the Inquisitor a broad smile. It was the one she used to hide behind and Isala’s eyes narrowed.

“Josephine.” She said her name like a warning, and the Antivan woman sighed.

“It’s nothing so terrible as it seems.” Josephine answered quickly as Leliana carried the little box to the table and set it down.

The Dalish Inquisitor raised one perfectly arched eyebrow. “You never bring sweet cakes unless it’s something terrible.” She grumbled, already not liking where all this was heading.

The Ambassador sighed, her shoulders slumping ever so slightly. “I don’t? I don’t believe that.” She glanced from the Inquisitor to Leliana and finally to Cullen. The look on all of their faces said otherwise and Josephine conceded. “Alright, so the cakes were poor gesture, but it’s really not that bad.”

“Out with it, Josephine.” Isala hated beating around the bush. If there was a fire she needed to put out, she would have rather known about it right up front, before it could spiral out of control.

“We’ve received new reports of rift activity and the local Bann is requesting the assistance if the Herald herself.”

Isala didn’t try to mask the sigh that fell from her lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back.

“I just---”

“You only just returned. I know, Inquisitor, but the Bann would be a powerful ally for us. Especially for supporting Skyhold with food and supplies. I am certain it will only be a small thing to investigate these rifts and make your way back in time for your birthday.” Josephine spoke in an eloquent whirlwind. It must have been why the Nobles found themselves so undone by her silver tongue. Even Isala had almost missed the nuanced details within the Ambassador’s speech.

“Wait, did you say birthday?” Isala asked, her eyes focused once more on the Antivan’s. Josephine didn’t flinch beneath that cool stare. “My birthday?”

“Well who else’s?” Leliana beamed. Cullen’s face was thoughtful, as if he’d only just been told recently.

“Why does it matter when my birthday is?” Isala asked, suspicion heady in her voice.

"You may want to offer her one of those little cakes now, Josie.” The Spymaster teased and Isala watched the Antivan squirm a little beneath all those ruffles.

“Ah, well, I may have told a few people.”

“A few?” Isala pressed.

“Well, only the most important received invitations, of course, and then there were the caterers, I had to tell them and---”

“Caterers?” Isala’s voice rose an octave or two and she fought to slowly, gently, place the tea cup down on the war table before she crushed it between her slender hands. Leliana stifled a giggle behind her hand and Cullen remained silent.

“Oh, don’t be upset, Inquisitor. Please? We wanted to do something for you. Show our appreciation for everything that you are doing for the Inquisition, for Thedas.” Josephine cooed. She could have calmed a dragon with her dulcet tones, but Isala wasn’t having it.

"So you throw a party? You think that I would want to spend my birthday cozying up to the local nobility?” The elf growled.

“A ball actually.” Josephine corrected.

Isala threw her hands up. “Oh, well that makes it so much better.” She was shaking her head. She might have asked how they’d even found out when her birthday was, but with Leliana standing there, she already knew. As if fighting demons wasn’t bad enough. Now she had to entertaining people who hardly knew her as anything but the Herald of Andraste. She would have rather been fighting demons.

The Dalish woman pinched the space between her eyes and let go of a long sigh. “How long before we’ll need to leave to meet this Bann?”

“As soon as possible.” Josephine winced.

“Of course.” Isala scoffed. Never a moment’s peace.

“Inquisitor, I will cancel the ball if that is your wish.” Isala could hear the regret in Josephine’s voice, but she didn’t have the heart to tell her to undo what had already been set into motion. A ball might be exactly what some of the Inquisition needed to raise their spirits. A little food, wine and song could make all the difference in moral. Isala understood that and if they needed a reason for it, her birthday was as good as any other.

“No, you don’t have to do that Josephine. Thank you. I’ll do my best to get back in time for it.” The elf gave her Ambassador a weak smile and took the small box of sweet cakes into her hands. “I’ll just take this.” Normally, she loved the little treats, especially when they were fresh. Even so, she didn’t think even the petite confections could cheer her up.
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Slow Burning Dreamer