Chapter Text
The mood in Skyhold was tense. The last time an important political figure paid a visit, she was killed. Now the prime minister of Ferelden was coming to visit. This was the Inquisition’s second chance. If they blew it, they would not receive a third.
Cullen opened the door to the Inquisitor’s office. All the ladies were assembled, plus Blackwall. The Inquisitor's face lit up when she saw him. “Cullen! There you are. I haven't seen you in a few days.”
Cullen felt himself smiling back, too wide and obvious. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. “Yes, ah, lots of work to do. Speaking of which, the PM is almost here.”
Leliana nodded politely. “Yes, we know. Thank you for the update.”
Cullen blushed at how easily she brushed aside his flimsy attempt to change the subject.
Fortunately, Blackwall was there to unwittingly save his arse. The other guard spoke into his earpiece, “Knight Two to SkySec. We're all here and ready to move out, over.”
Cullen heard SkySec’s response in his own earpiece, “Copy that, Knight Two. You're clear to go downstairs, over.” After the assassination and everything since, they were being overly cautious. The Inquisitor could not even move between floors without double-checking with security.
Blackwell got the door and held it open as the ladies filed through. Cullen fell into step with the Inquisitor and stayed by her side all the way to the elevator. With four ladies and two guards, the elevator was a tight fit. Cullen hovered close to the Inquisitor, his arm nearly touching her shoulder. The elevator chimed when it reached the ground floor, and everyone filed out.
The lobby had been set up for a press conference. Skyhold Tower had an auditorium for conferences, but the lobby was more picturesque. In the middle of the room, a podium was set up and chairs were arranged for a small audience of journalists. The press were not yet allowed in; instead, they clustered in front of the building, snapping photos through the glass doors. Inside, staff ran to and fro, hurrying to set up the broadcast and sound systems. If they were nervous for the Divine’s visit, this one had them in a near panic. They had months to prepare for the Divine; now, the prime minister was dropping in with only a couple days’ notice. Josephine immediately jumped into the fray, ordering the staff around and making adjustments to the setup.
Cassandra straightened her jacket and popped her collar. “I wish your PM had given us a little more time to prepare,” she grumbled.
“It might actually be safer this way,” Cullen said. “The bad guys don’t have as much time to find out about this and infiltrate the event.”
“Hmph. It’s still discourteous.”
Leliana chided her, “It’s a nice thing Alistair is doing for us.”
“It would be even nicer if we had more notice.”
Cullen’s earpiece crackled to life, “All hands on deck, the PM is arriving. Over.”
Outside, the press turned around and drifted away from the doors as something else drew their attention.
“Showtime,” Leliana said. She glanced at her colleagues. “Relax, he’s a lovely person.”
The Inquisitor nervously fixed her skirt. “It’s not the PM I’m afraid of.” She looked at Cullen in a way that made his stomach squirm. “Are you ready?”
He gave her his professional smile, the one he honed during his time in the Templars. As a Templar, he had to walk a balance between managing the egos of his comrades and remaining civil to the mages in his charge. It taught him how to keep his expression politely unreadable. “For you, always.”
She smiled shyly, and the pointy tips of her ears turned red. Cullen felt a crack form in his professional facade.
The din from the crowd increased in volume, pulling their attention back to the front door. The guards held the doors open as the prime minister and his entourage strode through.
Cullen had met him once before, what felt like a lifetime ago. Most of what he knew about the man was from the news. Alistair Guerrin was the adopted child of Eamon Guerrin, the MP representing Redcliffe. Before going into politics, Alistair served as a Templar and then a Grey Warden. Cullen could see it in the way he moved, the brisk and confident stride of a military man; he had the same walk. Alistair became a national hero for his involvement in ending the Fifth Blight. After the Blight, he retired from active duty and ran for Parliament as a member of the Reform Party. Between his boyish charm, his status as a war hero, and the favor of the royal family, Alistair quickly became popular with both the party and the people.
After the Kirkwall Rebellion and the onset of the Mage-Templar War, a vote of no confidence was brought against the PM at the time, Loghain Mac Tir. The vote passed, Loghain’s government was dissolved, and a general election was called. In the election, no party won a majority in Parliament. So, an uneasy coalition was forged between the Reform Party and Royalist Party, with Alistair at the head of the new government. He was now a new PM presiding over a divided Parliament during an international crisis. It was not an enviable position.
Leliana stepped forward to greet him first. The PM’s face split into a grin and he spread his arms wide. “Lels!”
Leliana embraced him. “It’s been too long!”
He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her back. “It’s this schedule they have me on. I wouldn’t have signed up if I knew running a country would be this much work.” He released her and turned to her colleagues. “Cassandra, good to see you again.”
She shook his hand. “Always a pleasure.”
He turned to the next person in line. “And you must be the Inquisitor. Mum spoke highly of you.”
The Inquisitor seemed to relax as she shook his hand. He had that effect on people. “I would hope so. It’s an honor to meet you, Prime Minister.”
“Please, it’s just Alistair.” To Cullen's surprise, the PM turned and offered him a handshake as well. “Rutherford, right? We met briefly during the Blight.”
Cullen accepted the handshake. “Yes, we did. To be quite honest, I'm surprised you remember.”
“What’s not to remember about fighting demons and darkspawn?” He moved on to Blackwall. “And you must be Blackwall.” As they shook hands, he added, “The name fits. You’re built like a tank!”
Blackwall chuckled, deep and gravelly. “You’re no slouch yourself.”
“I manage to find time for the gym in between babysitting MPs.”
Josephine wrapped up what she was doing and walked over to join the party. “Prime Minister, I’m Josephine Montilyet, PR Manager for the Inquisition.” She offered her hand in that feminine, upper-class way with her palm down.
Alistair took her hand in his. “A pleasure to meet you.” With everyone greeted, he clapped his hands and looked around. “Alright, I suppose we’ll go somewhere to have a chat before the press conference?”
Leliana gestured to the elevators. “Right this way.”
—
Upstairs in one of the conference rooms, everyone settled into their seats. Ellana expected a meeting with the PM to be more formal, but he sat next to his old friend and slouched in his chair. “So,” he began, “now that the magister has received a boot in the ass, what’s next on the agenda?”
Ellana said, “We’re continuing to investigate the assassination of the Divine.”
“Ah, yes. Nasty business, that.”
“Now that we know Tevinter has a vested interest in the conflict, we’ve added them to our list of suspects.”
Alistair sighed. “If Tevinter assassinated the Divine, that counts as an act of war. And then we’ll have to decide how far we’re willing to go to hold them accountable.”
“If Parliament’s not willing to go to war, then the Magisterium will get away with it?”
“Pretty much.”
Josephine spoke up, “Ferelden is not the only nation affected by the Divine’s death. Every member-state of the Orlesian Chantry will have to make that decision.”
Cassandra said, “It is the Chantry that is targeted, so it is the Chantry that must respond. The difficult part will be uniting all the member-states behind whatever course of action the new Divine chooses.”
“Speaking of which,” Alistair said, “what are your feelings on the election?”
Cassandra’s only answer was a disgusted noise.
Ellana said, “Vivienne de Fer asked for our endorsement.”
“The Iron Lady?”
“We declined. But if a better candidate doesn’t step forward, she may be our only option.”
Alistair turned in his seat to face Leliana. “Why don’t you run, Lels?”
“Me?”
“Yeah. You’re reasonably popular within the Chantry, you have an excellent resume, I can act as your reference…”
Cassandra perked up at the suggestion. “I believe acting as the Left Hand qualifies one to serve as Divine.”
Leliana kept her poker face in place. “I don’t know; I heard the job has a high fatality rate.”
“Go ahead and think about it,” Alistair said. “If you decide to run, let me know and I’ll endorse you.”
Josephine’s phone chimed, and she checked it. “The reporters are seated and ready for the briefing.”
Leliana stood. “We’ll continue this discussion over dinner.”
As Alistair stood up, he asked, “Where are you taking me?”
“Chez Henri, it’s an Orlesian place.”
“So they’ll have stinky cheeses?”
“I asked them to have a cheese plate appetizer ready for you.”
“You’re the best, Lels.”
Between the PM, the Inquisition girl squad, and all the bodyguards, the party was too big to fit into a single lift. They had to split into two groups to take the elevators. Ellana startled a little when she felt the PM’s hand on her shoulder. “You ladies go ahead,” he said. “I’ll keep the Inquisitor company and then we’ll come downstairs together. Present a united front for the cameras.”
“Excellent idea,” Josephine said. “We appreciate the show of solidarity. Thank you again for coming all this way.”
“No need to thank me; I needed an excuse to get out of Denerim. Besides, the mountain air is supposed to be good for you.”
The girl squad minus Ellana piled into the lift. Blackwall followed them. Cullen stayed by Ellana’s side.
Alistair said to him, “Don’t worry, my team will keep her safe.”
That was odd. Ellana looked up at the PM. His tone was glib as usual, but there was a serious look in his eye. He had something to tell her. She turned to Cullen. “Blackwall could use the company. Go on, I’ll be fine.”
Cullen hesitated, searching her eyes. Ellana did not know what he was looking for. Finally, he nodded. “As you wish.” The way he said it, just a little too soft to be professional, made her heart flutter.
The doors slid shut, obscuring Ellana and Alistair from watchful eyes. Once they were alone, Alistair turned to Ellana and spoke in a hushed voice, “I don’t like keeping secrets from Leliana, partly because she’s my friend and partly because she’ll find out anyway. But Mum said to give you this in private.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a prepaid dumbphone.
Ellana immediately recognized its purpose. She used to have a burner phone, but it was confiscated after her arrest. With no way to contact the other rebels, they assumed she either died or turned coat. This was an olive branch, an invitation to rejoin the fold.
Ellana took the phone. “Thank you. This means a lot.”
“Don’t mention it. No really, don’t. Leliana will give me an earful.” He hit the button to call an elevator. “Come on, we have a public to appease.”