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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
- 8
- 9
- 10
"Happy birthday, Your Worship!”
“Inquisitor, happy birthday!”
“Happy birthday, my Lady Inquisitor!”
“Your Worship, it’s your birthday? Happy birthday!”
Skyhold was full. Perhaps as much as she’d ever seen it. There was a hum of conversation that buzzed throughout the stone halls and clattered up into the battlements. Unfortunately, most of that conversation was about her.
Isala didn’t like servants tending to her every whim. Inquisitor or not. She especially didn’t like having elven servants and did her best to ensure that she didn’t require anyone to do anything for her. She was completely capable of dressing herself and fetching her own breakfast. It didn’t stop them from trying, but Isala did what she could to make their jobs easier.
She was carrying a pastry and hot coffee with her toward the war room. It was usual for her to pop into the inn for a bite just before the first meeting of the day. She’d hoped to sneak in and out without much notice, but it was as if she had a giant sign floating over her head today. One that said, “Hey, I’m the Inquisitor and it’s my birthday!”
The elven mage tried to smile and nod to each stranger who wished her well as she worked her way through the great hall and toward Josephine’s office. Once inside she leaned her head against the large wooden door for a few heartbeats to catch her breath and let some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.
“Inquisitor!” A distinctly Orlesian woman cooed from across the room. She was dressed as ornately as her accent and was surrounded by two other women of a similar fashion sense.
Isala’s pale eyes opened wide as she straightened against the door.
“Allow me to wish you the happiest of birthdays, your worship.” She purred and curtsied. Isala smiled weakly and did her own attempt to curtsy but it just ended up looking awkward.
"Thank you.”
“I had hoped to speak with Ambassador Montilyet this morning.” The Orlesian noble went on.
Isala began moving across the room. She’d have to cross to get to the war room anyway. “Oh well, I won’t keep her long then.” The Inquisitor nodded once before slipping into the hall that would lead her to her advisors.
The Inquisitor huffed a sigh and stole a bite of her pastry as she made her way down the long hallway and toward the war room. Cool morning air wafted in from the still ruined, right wall, but Isala welcomed the fresh breeze.
She bit her pastry gingerly between her lips to hold it while she pulled one of the massive doors open. Leliana and Josephine sounded to be in mid-conversation as she entered and their chatter turned to whispered giggles as the elf slipped inside. Isala removed the confection from her lips and looked at her council.
"Did I miss something?” She eyed them both suspiciously. If either of them wished her a happy birthday now, she was going to scream. Leliana shook her head nonchalantly and Josephine smiled wide. It was incredibly suspicious and Isala didn’t like it one bit.
“Did you sleep well? We heard you only just arrived in the night?” Josephine said.
Isala nodded and sipped her coffee, hoping the heat didn’t creep into her cheeks. “Yes, thank you.” She lied. She glanced from the Ambassador to the Spymaster and realized something was missing. “Where is Cullen?” She asked, realizing only after the words were out of her mouth that she’d forgotten his title.
“Oh, the Commander won’t be joining us this morning.” Josephine answered.
Isala lowered her cup. She didn’t try to contain the concern that colored her face suddenly. “Is he well?” He did seem a little tired earlier in the morning when she’d seen him last, but he’d assured her he was fine.
Leliana giggled softly. “We do not require Cullen’s council for this meeting.”
The elf’s slender brows knitted together. “What are you two up to?” She asked suspiciously.
“Whatever do you mean?” Josephine was stifling laughter and poorly. The Dalish elf set what was left of her breakfast down next to her coffee and dusted her hands off. She hated surprises and her advisors were doing a piss-poor job of concealing this one. If there was some secret to be shared, she wanted it done and over with already.
Isala crossed her arms and opened her mouth to demand that they give up the rouse when another voice filled the room.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, show her already.”
Isala spun. “Lady Vivienne?” The Imperial Enchanter strode into the war room as if she owned the place, though she rarely entered a room any other way. Two elven servants followed on her heels carrying a garment between the two of them. The folds of blue, silver and white spilled out of the elves arms like water, but neither let it touch the ground.
“Yes Darling. At the rate these two are taking things, your ball will have come and gone before we’ve even managed to show you your dress.” Vivienne quipped as she waved little more than her wrist at the servants. They began adjusting how they held the fabric in their hands so that it could be displayed upright. Isala could scarcely make out what she was looking at, save for the fact that it was possibly one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
“M-my dress?” The Inquisitor asked and the confusion was plain.
“We asked Madame de Fer for her expertise on the matter.” Josephine began. “She is well renowned for her sense of fashion and has some of the best connections in all of Orlais.”
“I feared they wouldn’t have the garment in time, to be perfectly honest, but I believe a small miracle may have occurred when they made this gown.” Vivienne purred with her wide, regal smile. “I’m still not certain of the fit, mind you. You are a bit more…athletic, than the elven assistant at the boutique, but I believe the proportions are within range.”
Isala moved to where the dress was being held aloft for her inspection. She could see familiar fabrics shimmering in the warm, morning light. Dales loden wool, royal sea silk and others she’d never even beheld. They all glinted in the sunlight, sparkling like the surface of the ocean at sunrise. The Dalish elf reached out with her fingertips and caressed the delicate fabric of the bustle. It seemed almost too rich for her fingers and she worried that if she wore the dress, she might spend the entire evening caressing the supple materials that wove it together.
“This is for me?” She asked softly.
“Why of course it is, Darling. Now, come on, we haven’t got all day. Try it on.” Vivienne declared.
Isala’s gaze darted back to the enchanter. “What, now? Here?” She hated having people help her dress, but this looked like something she was going to need assistance in and out of.
Vivienne rolled her eyes. “Well, we could have it taken to your room if you absolutely insist, but really, it’s just us girls here, and the lighting is wonderful right now.” Vivienne made her way to the massive war table and leaned her bottom against it, bracing either side of her curvaceous form on the edge of the large wooden slab. She was looking at the Inquisitor expectantly and Isala’s gaze wavered between that of her advisors and the enchanter.
The Dalish elf licked her lips and looked back at the elegant garment being displayed for her. She took a deep breath and shrugged, her fingertips already going to the little buttons on her tunic. “Alright then, let’s get this over with.”
- 8
- 9
- 10
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Slow Burning Dreamer