Chapter Text
It was a dreary day in early winter, in the wake of the death of Grand Duchess Justinia Divine, that the new owner of Skyhold Manor arrived in town.
Not much was known of the Lady Lavellan, and that mystery made her something of a talking point to the inhabitants of the town. She was - rumor told - a lady of low beginnings who had, upon the untimely death of the Lady Divine, inherited a substantial fortune.
As happens in such cases, there gossip that preceded her was enough to create a characteristic impression. Within the flurry of rumor arose one of particular note - that she was, in some way, connected to the death of Lady Divine.
Lady Lavellan, for her part, was entirely unaware of the social turmoil that her appearance created. She was, after all, preoccupied with her sudden and unexpected inheritance.
Skyhold manor was the oldest holding in Haven, a great stone house on the very edge of town. It was far too large for one person, and Lavellan found herself very much overwhelmed upon entering the foyer.
“This is, without a doubt, the most ostentatious yet most dis-repaired house I have ever seen,” she told the walls of the hall as she stepped over a fallen support. “I suppose I will just have to get used to it.”
*
The Lady Lavellan had barely had time to get comfortable when her first visitors came calling. Had she any familiarity with the inhabitants of Haven, she would have recognized the two women standing at her door at once. As it was, being a foreigner from the north, Lavellan was instead confronted by the unofficial welcoming committee for the town.
Lady Leliana of Nightengale Hall was slender and delicate, a beautiful woman with a shock of red hair. She had the sort of face that painters would love to paint, yet her apparent softness hid the greatest busybody of all of Haven and - as Lavellan would later come to know - she was a three time Nug breeding champion.
Her companion was, in many ways, the opposite to her. Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast had once been described as a woman who “I shit you not, could probably wrestle twenty bears and win” by an anonymous author. She was tall and solid, with the most well defined cheekbones Lavellan had ever seen.
It was in a veritable whirlwind that Lavellan found herself greeted by these two women.
“It is so good to finally meet you!” said Lady Leliana. “I am Leliana and this is Cassandra Pentaghast. You, of course, must be the Lady Lavellan. We have all been very interested in meeting you since we heard you were to move into Skyhold.”
“With Lady Divine dead, we had thought the manor would stand open for some time. She was, of course, well respected and well loved by all who knew her and, until recent events have proven differently, believed to have no heirs.” The manner in which the Lady Cassandra spoke was brusque and this, more so even than her words, alerted Lavellan that this was very much not a pleasant social call.
Now the Lady Lavellan was, by no means, a naive woman. She was, however, quite unfamiliar with various intricacies of Southern society, and even more specifically she did not know of the closeness of both ladies to the Lady Divine. She was, however, quite adept at reading those around her.
“I’m afraid that I did not know the Lady Divine well,” Lavellan said, quite truthfully. “It was not until this week past that I received news of her passing and that I had been left an inheritance. I heard that she was well loved in Haven.”
“She was.” There was a flash of emotion on Leliana’s face, and her voice took on an edge of sweet sharpness. “The sudden appearance of an heir is, quite surprising. Certain steps must be taken to ensure the legitimacy of the claim as you must understand.”
“Of course,” said Lavellan, was struck by the sudden thought that these two women were very, very dangerous. “I would expect nothing less.”
“Wonderful!” Leliana seemed to brighten immeasurably, while Cassandra’s glower only increased. “We will, of course, let you know when arrangements have been made. I am certain they will go smoothly. Now, you simply must dine with us tonight.”
“Ah,” said Lavellan, quite thrown by this sudden change. “Of course?”
“Good.” Cassandra passed her a calling card, which Lavellan accepted with only slight trepidation. “You will find us at the base of the hill in Nightengale Hall. You cannot possibly miss it.”
When the ladies had said their goodbyes, Lavellan closed the door tightly.
“I do believe I have stepped into a highly unpleasant and complicated situation,” she said to absolutely no one. A mouse crawled over the wreckage on the ground and Lavellan sighed.
***
It is true that the inheritance had come very unexpectedly upon Lady Lavellan. It had been all but out of the blue that she had discovered herself to be the heir to three very important things.
The first, of course, was Skyhold Manor itself and all its grounds. Even in the disrepair that she found it in, it was impressive - the sort of place which most could only dream of. The second was a sizeable fortune the likes of which would keep her in comfort for quite some time, and would certainly aid in repairing and refurnishing the manor. And lastly - and in many ways, the most important of all - Lady Lavellan had inherited an heirloom ring.
She could not, of course, know the importance of the ring. An intricately wrought piece, made of silver long tarnished with age and set with an emerald of considerable rarity. When the light hit it properly, it seemed as though lit with its own internal light.
That ring now rested upon Lavellan’s left hand, snug upon her finger, and it had not yet been removed since it was placed there only several days before.
***
Nightengale Hall had been easy enough to find, as Cassandra had said it would be, but upon being received there, Lavellan found herself very much out of her depth. In truth, she had been ill prepared for the South and her move there, and so she wore the same dress which she had worn upon arriving in town.
She was greeted at the door and admitted to the sitting room, only to find herself confronted by yet more people she had not yet met.
“My Lady Lavellan! I am glad to see you have arrived,” said Leliana, taking her arm and leading her forward. “Come, let me introduce you to my dear friends. I am certain you will come to know them well in the weeks to come.”
The two others in the room had risen at her entrance and Lavellan was quickly introduced.
“This is my good friend, Lady Josephine Montilyet of Antiva. Josephine, this is the Lady Lavellan, newly of Skyhold Manor.” Leliana said as Lavellan delicately shook the hand of one of the most elegant women she had ever seen. Had Leliana not mentioned she was of Antiva, she would have guessed as soon as the woman spoke.
“It is a delight to meet you, Lady Lavellan.” Josephine’s face was bright and open, her hair elaborately braided and bound with only a few delicate curls left free around her face. Her nose was impressively hooked, perfectly placed on her perfect face.
“And this is Commander Cullen Rutherford,” Leliana said, and Lavellan turned her attention to the pale man standing to Josephine’s right.
“Lady Lavellan.” Commander Rutherford bowed over her hand. He was a large man, perhaps as tall as Cassandra, dressed in rich military garb. He had the appearance of a young man worn down by the world; Lavellan thought him to look rather wrung out at the edges, though the scar that adorned the top of his lip was rather attractive in a dashing sort of way.
Josephine took Lavellan’s hand back from the general and drew her to sit next to her upon the couch. “I was so hoping to meet you before too long had passed, Lady Lavellan. Haven has talked of nothing else since your arrival. Tell me, how are you settling in to Skyhold?”
“It is...very vast,” Lavellan said, which was true. “Has it stood empty long?”
“Far too long,” said Cassandra, the first words she had spoken since Lavellan’s arrival. She sat on an adjacent couch, an impressive figure in a suit of black and pink. “It was only one of the Lady Divine’s holdings.”
“I have been told it was quite a sight in its prime,” said Josephine. “But it has fallen in disrepair as of late; it fell out of use when the house of Divine moved to Val Royeaux some decades before. I hear they used it for a summer retreat for some years, but it has stood empty for quite awhile. I am somewhat surprised to see that it was the first part of her vast fortune to be distributed was Skyhold.”
Lavellan’s brows drew together with no little confusion. “The first part?”
“It is a very complicated situation,” said Josephine, with the air of someone who enjoys such complicated situations. “The Lady Divine was very wealthy and very well connected -”
“And well loved,” Cassandra added from her seat, arching her perfect brows.
“- and well loved. But she had no direct heir, you see. It is a very intricate legal situation, determining where her assets will go.”
“Thus the surprise to see Skyhold so soon go to me.”
Josephine inclined her head. “Just so. Forgive me for asking, but are you of relation to the Grand Duchess?”
“Distantly, it would seem. Why do you ask?”
“It is just that you look as though you are dalish, and that could complicate such a connection.”
Lavellan’s back straightened. “I am dalish,” she said calmly. “Surely that does not invalidate my claim to the inheritance. I can assure you, it is a legitimate claim.”
“So it would seem,” said Cassandra, her voice cool. “But it remains to be verified.”
“There is also the matter of the mysterious manner of her death.” The Commanders’s voice cut almost awkwardly into the conversation, and Lavellan’s attention was drawn to him. “It was unexpected and abrupt.”
Lavellan felt her mouth dry. “Do you suspect foul play, Commander?”
Cullen met her eye, and Lavellan had the distinct impression that this was not so much a dinner as an interrogation. “I have not ruled it out, my lady. That magic had a hand in her death, I have little doubt.”
The awkwardness of that exchange permeated the silence in the room until Leliana spoke. “I do believe we are summoned to dinner. Come, the dining room is this way.”
It was, without a doubt, the most tensely charged dinner she had ever been to. The sense of unease among the dinner guests only grew, and by the time dessert had been served and she had said her goodbyes, Lavellan had an excellent idea of what she was under suspicion for.
It was reasonable, she decided, that they thought her involved. The situation was entirely more complicated than she had initially presumed, and that made things infinitely more difficult.
That Commander Rutherford suspected magic in the death of Lady Divine only made it that much worse for Lavellan herself was, in fact, a mage.
***
Magic was a complicated subject, for which Lavellan was infinitely grateful to have been raised outside of Southern society for. It was not, as a general rule, spoken of openly within polite society, unless it was in the context of the most academic of studies. A good, proper mage was one who was part of the College - educated, supervised, working within the acceptable parameters for scientific and magical study. A mage who had learned outside of this context was generally not accepted and were, as another general rule, considered a danger to society.
The further north one went, the more lax the rules became. Or, rather, once you hit the end of one particular territory, the rules changed entirely. Twice over, in fact, depending on how far one went. The empire of Tevinter was known for its rigorous magical studies and their college was a great academic rival to that of the south; with less rules to regulate the movement of mages within proper society, their techniques were quite often vastly different and more innovative and, if one were to believe the rumors, vastly superior.
Even further north was a place no mage would wish to tread, for magic was even less well regarded than in the south.
Lavellan was not one for social graces or politics, but she did know something of the magical reforms that politicians had been attempting to pass for several years. It was a move with high stakes, and she had heard of the career of more than one politician having been ruined over it.
Grand Duchess Justinia Divine had been at the heart of it, or had been the hope of both sides. With her political sway, social standing, and wealth, she could have turned the proceedings either way.
To die as she had, presumably at the hand of a mage and with court still in session over the most recent reform attempt, was a very bad thing indeed.
***
That first night in Skyhold was, in many ways, an unpleasant one. Lavellan had already been in a state near to anxiety when leaving Nightengale Hall, torn between a desire to run down to the courthouse and have the document stating her inheritance verified and the desire to run all the way home to Wycome.
Of course, going home was not an option, and she could hardly leave in the middle of the night in any case.
Had she been, in truth, a highborn lady, she might have found some other place to stay for the night. Skyhold was in desperate need of repair and had not seen inhabitants in many ears. Nevertheless, Lavellan settled down for the night on a long abandoned bed under her own well-worn blankets and attempted to sleep.
Sleep, however, was not easily forthcoming. She tossed and she turned for hours, jumping at every hush of wind that rushed through the house, brought in through the cracks in the roof and the broken windows. The floorboards creaked and the bones of the house strained in the winter wind.
Eventually, curled beneath her blankets, Lavellan drifted into something resembling a light sleep, but it was then that she would swear words filled that hush of wind, that the breath of the house turned to speech.
It seemed to her, as the hour crept later and the shadows became ever deeper, that there was a sense of something alive in the house. She could not place it, other than the strangest sense that coiled in her stomach, but if someone were to have asked her in that moment, she would have told them that there was another person in the house with her.
But when she rose to check, when she traced each room with a flame in her hand, she found no one.
***
It was not that Lavellan was traveling alone, only that she had chosen to travel ahead of her companions when coming to Skyhold. Her inheritance had been a sudden, unexpected thing, and there had not been time enough to put everything in order, but she had thought that her presence at the manor in a timely fashion would be well warranted.
She had not at all been prepared. Not for the south, not for the suspicion. She was, after only one day, quite overwhelmed.
The manor was large and drafty, though Lavellan was, in truth, used to much worse in much smaller houses. Skyhold might have been a relic, but it was the sort that was impressive even in its ruin. But the unease from the night before was still fresh in her mind. She mulled it over as she sat in the kitchen, taking her breakfast.
“It was only a silly dream,” she said to herself as she sipped a cup of tea. “And the unfamiliarity of a new home. I dare say I will sleep better once I have explored every room twice over.”
She was all set to do just that when there was a knock upon the door. Lavellan answered it, expecting some new arrival who would yet again remark upon the suspicious nature of her inheritance. Instead, she was greeted by a familiar, welcome face.
Cremisius Aclassi was, by all accounts, a good person to have on ones side. He was a handsome man who was from even further north than Lavellan herself, and when she had met him several years earlier it had been a stroke of luck for both. Krem had, at that time, had the sort of contacts she was in need of, and Lavellan had been quite in need.
“You’ve got yourself quite a run-down mansion here,” was the first thing Krem said to her when she let him in to her new home. “Begging your pardon, but this is a piece of work.”
“Of that I am well aware,” said Lavellan, who had already explored the stable parts of the very large manor and had found more walls in poor repair, more than one hole in the roof, and a family of nugs living in the basement. “If I had known it would be quite this bad, I might have waited longer. I should have arranged for a housekeeper before arriving here, at the very least. Oh, and did you know that I am suspected to have killed Grand Duchess Divine?”
Krem’s eyebrows shot up at that. “That’s quite a charge. They come right out and say that?”
Lavellan sighed heavily. “Oh, well, no. But it was quite implied, and I had to stay through an entire dinner with the people who implied it. I feel I should have stayed in Wycome.”
“Aw, don’t say that. You’d have been miserable in Wycome, we all knew it. Besides, if you’d stayed in Wycome you would have never inherited such a wreck.”
Her laughter was bright.“Ha. Ha. Well. Do you have any advice? Because I feel I could use some right about now.”
Krem shrugged. “Don’t admit to anything? Don’t you worry, we’ll get this all sorted out. The boss and the rest will be here by the end of the week. We’ll get this place cleaned right up and keep everything off your back. Keep your head on straight and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Lavellan gave the sort of relieved sigh that one gives when they know they have someone who is on their side at their side. “Thank you for that, Krem. I was beginning to get a little panicked over this entire thing. Come, let me show you the house. After that, I think it’s about time that I head down to the courthouse and sort out all of the legalities of this once and for all.”
And so before the sun had risen too high into the sky, Lavellan donned her coat and set off down the hill into the heart of Haven.
She had not gotten the best look at the town upon arriving the day before. Haven was a reasonably sized town with a particular look to it. It was an old town that had been made new in recent years, smartly constructed modern houses set betwixt old stonemasoned buildings that were weathered by the years.
There was a suspicion in the air as Lavellan walked through the streets, and she quickly realized that there must already be gossip surrounding her. Either those she had dined with the night before had made their opinions on her known, or it was simply a common opinion.
Grand Duchess Divine had been well loved, or so Leliana had said.
Lavellan was very quick to realize that she had no idea where to find the courthouse, and with no kind face in sight to ask, she was quite beside herself. Still, she was not known to give up easily, and so she gathered up her skirts and began a very deliberate route around Haven. If she could not find it in one quarter, she could certainly find it in another.
She sensed her approach before she saw her; the woman simply had that sort of presence. The click of riding boots upon stone and the general sense that an unstoppable force was heading towards her. She wheeled around at the last moment to find herself face to chest with Cassandra Pentaghast.
“Lady Pentaghast!” Lavellan rocked back onto her heels, steadying herself. Cassandra was as imposing as she had been on their last two meetings, smartly dressed in well cut and tailored coat, black and stark save for a cravat in a rich salmon color tied at her throat.
A noise of disgust welled up in the woman’s throat. “Cassandra, if you must. I am not one for ceremony. I see that you have taken it upon yourself to explore Haven.”
Lavellan straightened up, swallowing down the anxiety of being out of sorts and uncertain of herself within these new circumstances. “I was, in fact, in search of the courthouse. Perhaps you could show me the way?”
Cassandra regarded her for a long moment in silence, until Lavellan began to feel all the weight of the accusatory stares of the townsfolk return tenfold.
“Tell me, what are you in need of the courthouse for?”
Once more, Lavellan straightened, head tipped up to meet Cassandra’s gaze. “It has not escaped my notice that you are very suspicious of me. While I can assure you that I had nothing to do with the death of Grand Duchess Divine and that my claim to Skyhold is legitimate, I feel that it is best to confirm all of this through legal channels. If you would care to accompany me, it could do much to either set your mind at ease or prove to you that I am false.”
A muscle twitched in Cassandra’s jaw, but it was followed swiftly by a curt nod. “I will show you the way.”
“Thank you.”
“Do not think this means that I trust you,” Cassandra reminded her as her long legs carried her past Lavellan; she increased her pace to keep up. “You arrive out of nowhere, with no apparent means of connection to the Divine, to take up residence in her house, wearing her ring. Do not think I have not noticed what is on your hand, Miss Lavellan.”
Lavellan raised her hand slightly, looking down to where the heirloom ring rested upon her finger. “This ring? It was part of my inheritance.”
“Do not toy with me, Miss Lavellan.”
“I’m not. I swear to you, once we are at the courthouse, all of this will be confirmed or denied.”
They turned a sharp corner to walk down a wide street. There were less people here, the street empty save for two men who sat outside a shop, engaged in deep discussion. As they rounded the corner, one of them looked up.
“Ah, Seeker! What a pleasant surprise.” He was a short man with ruddy skin and dirty blond hair. Short even while sitting, he had the sort of wide shoulders and barrel chest that gave him a good, solid appearance. Lavellan thought he would be far shorter than herself if he were to stand.
“Varric,” said Cassandra, in the sort of tone that spoke of a history that was not as pleasant as the man’s greeting suggested.
Lavellan could not know of the tumultuous relationship between one Cassandra Pentaghast and one Varric of House Tethras. Indeed, the name Varric was not familiar to her in that moment, and what Lavellan took from this short exchange was that, perhaps, there was someone Cassandra disliked more than her.
“And who is this lovely lady?” he asked. Closer now, Lavellan could see sheaves of paper on the table, covered in print.
“This is Lavellan, lately of Wycome,” Cassandra told him. Varric’s look took on a new edge of interest.
“The Lavellan? The Lavellan, now of Skyhold?”
“Yes, that Lavellan.”
Varric’s companion had since turned to look at her as well, and Lavellan was struck by the shabbiness of this man. While Varric’s coat was not of the greatest quality - a large thing of oiled leather - he wore a vibrant shirt of red embroidered in what looked to be gold thread. This man, in contrast, looked to be wearing a coat and suit of outdated fashion, patched several times over in a hand that was prone to large stitches, even if they were very uniformly made. He wore a cap on his head, the neckline of a coarsely knit shirt poking out from under his patchwork coat.
He rose from his seat and extended a hand. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” he said, his words spoken in a familiar accent.
“You are dalish!” Lavellan said with some startlement as their hands met. “I did not think to meet another here!”
The man bristled. “I do not count myself among the dalish,” he said briskly. “Nevertheless, it is good to make your acquaintance, Miss Lavellan.”
“Yours as well,” she said, though there was a sense of unease to the meeting. For a moment, she attributed it to her misstep, but then she realized that he had taken her left hand instead of her right.
It took her a moment longer to realize that he was examining the ring upon her finger, and it was then that she snatched her hand away.
“That ring,” he said then, as though there was nothing amiss. “I have never seen anything of its like. It looks to be very old.”
“It was the late Divine’s,” said Cassandra curtly, and Solas looked to her with a solemn look of understanding on his face.
“Ah. That would explain it. Such a piece must have been passed down through generations.”
“Undoubtedly.” Lavellan resisted the urge to clasp the ring to her chest. “And while I would love to discuss this more thoroughly, we were on our way to the courthouse.”
Varric looked to Cassandra. “Your idea, Seeker? Making sure everything’s in legal order? You watch out for this one, Miss Lavellan; she does like to know the whole story before she’s satisfied.”
“That will be enough, Varric.”
“We’ll take our leave then. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr...Varric. And...Solas,” she said, realizing she did not, at that moment, know either of their last names.
“A pleasure, Miss Lavellan,” said Solas, and she thought - though with some uncertainty - that his gaze briefly dropped to the ring once more.
It was with some unease that Lavellan followed Cassandra down the street. She did not look back.
“He is an author.”
Cassandra’s voice was unexpected and Lavellan startled. “What?”
“Varric Tethras. He is an author,” said Cassandra, as though it was either obvious or something to be disgusted with. “He is also the head of his family, but you would not know it to hear him talk.”
This was, to Lavellan, of incredible interest. “What does he write?”
Cassandra made a noise of disgust. “Utter tripe. Serial crime novels and romances. The sort of reading that one does not admit to reading in public company.”
“Do you read them?”
The glare Cassandra leveled at her told her everything she needed to know.
“And, ah, what of that other man?”
“Solas? He is an artist. A painter, so I am told, though I have not yet seen his work. He has only recently come to Haven, for inspiration or something of that measure.”
“Ah.”
An artist. That could explain...something. Lavellan pursed her lips and said no more on the matter. The palm of her hand itched slightly in memory of his touch.
They reached the courthouse before long, and upon entering the large stone building, Lavellan realized that she had already met the person who would be verifying her claims to inheritance.
“Hello, Josephine,” Cassandra said, and the woman Lavellan had met at dinner the night before look up from her paperwork to smile at them.
“Cassandra! And...Lady Lavellan! This is fortunate; I was intending to send a missive to you today.”
“Were you?” For just a moment, uncertainty reared its head, but then she straightened her spine and set her jaw and stepped forward. “I imagine I am here for similar reasons. I intend to verify that my claim to Skyhold manor and all holdings is legitimate.”
She pulled an envelope from her coat pocket and offered it to Josephine. The woman took it, carefully unfolding the paper.
“Ah,” she breathed, eyebrows rising dramatically as she read. “I see. If you could give me a moment?” She made as though to rise.
“I would prefer not to lose sight of that, if you don’t mind,” Lavellan said, and there was a pause before Josephine nodded and she passed the papers back to her.
“If you will excuse me for a just a moment. I have documents here which will allow me to verify if these are, in fact, written by the Grand Duchess Divine.”
Cassandra turned to Lavellan as Josephine disappeared into an adjoining room. “You carried a letter from the Divine and you did not say as much?”
“Would you have believed me if I said I did?” Lavellan looked at her skeptically. “You believe me somehow involved in her death. I am not fully ignorant of the politics of the south, Cassandra. I felt it best to bring this up before someone of legal standing before divulging that I held it. I, of course, did not realize that it would be Lady Montilyet who I needed to speak to, though I hardly thing discussing this over dinner would have been appropriate.”
“Perhaps not at a first dinner with new acquaintences,” Cassandra conceded. She paused for a moment. “I trust Josephine implicitly; she is fair and impartial in matters of law. If this document proves to be legitimate, then I will believe you. If it does not…”
Lavellan wagered a smile. “As I said, I am not fully ignorant of the south. If this proves false, I fully anticipate being thrown into prison, or worse. But it is not false.”
“You seem very confident.” There was a touch of wonder in Cassandra’s voice.
“I am.”
When Josephine returned to the room, Lavellan passed the letter back to her. And then she stood there, waiting, as Josephine examined the paper. Cassandra stood beside her, and while Lavellan’s feet and back began to ache from standing on the hard floor, she did not move or sit down. Neither did she speak.
Eventually, after more time than Lavellan cared to recount, Josephine looked up. Her eyes fell to Lavellan first, then to Cassandra.
“This is, indeed, the writing of Justinia Divine, and a legally binding document. It appears that, in the hours before her death, Grand Duchess Divine willed Skyhold, a portion of her fortune, and, of particular note, one emerald ring. To be given to Lavellan of Wycome upon the Divine’s death, with this document to supersede any and all other legal wills.”
Cassandra’s expression was that of utter surprise. “What?”
Josephine held up her hand. “Please, Cassandra. Let me read this; it will set your mind at ease, I think.
“I write this letter in my last hours, of clear mind and with full consent. My holding of Skyhold and all lands and funds associated with it I give to Lavellan of Wycome, my protector at the end of my life. I also give her the emerald ring, heirloom of my house, which should rest upon her hand should this be read. May she know its use better than I.
This I do sign, legally and binding, and no party may take ownership of any of the aforementioned items without written permission and consent from Lavellan of Wycome.
Grand Duchess Justinia Divine
“It is dated the day of her death,” Josephine said. “It appears that she thought very highly of you, Lady Lavellan.”
Cassandra had turned to look to Lavellan, the surprise on her face, if possible, even greater. “Her protector?”
And here, Lavellan could have lied. Quite easily; no one would have known the difference, and the document, being proved to be true, had guaranteed that she would be allowed to remain in Skyhold Manor. But Lavellan was not of a duplicitous nature, though she was cautious.
“I do not know what she meant by that,” Lavellan said softly. “I have read that letter many times, since it came into my possession, but I cannot understand what she meant by that, or what she meant by referencing the use of the ring.
The look Cassandra gave her was, at first, disbelieving. But then something went out of it; she seemed to deflate, almost, and for a moment Lavellan felt she could see the grieving woman behind all her iron.
“She was often cryptic,” she said. “But she believed you to be her protector. Josephine believes this letter to be legitimate. In her last hours, the Divine thought of you in kindness, and that must count for something indeed.
“I hope so,” said Lavellan, who was not certain that it did.
***
Here is what Lavellan did not tell to Cassandra or Josephine, though her words may have hinted at it:
Those last hours of life, before the Divine died, were hours that Lavellan could not remember. She thought that she had met the Duchess - she must have, at some point - but she could not remember. There is a great gap in her memories that ends with her waking to find a ring sitting upon her finger, gleaming green like there is fire caught inside.
A ring upon her finger and a letter in her pocket, and she does not know how either got there.