While Lady Koralia Dorothea Sibylla Zenadia Pentaghast-Blanchett tended to be a…difficult guest for the servants of Skyhold (by Sylaise, if they had to deal with one more complaint about her eggs being ‘misaligned’ on the plate…), she at least had the mitigating factor of entertainment.
One form of entertainment was the Herald's absolute terror of her. The other…well, The Inquirer’s Tale suddenly gained a new antagonist in the form of Lady Komnania Domena Sorilla Zempatica Pentagram-Benkett, who was unbearably jealous of the Inquirer and Lirellian’s love. And had the ability to magically teleport from Val Royeaux to the balcony of the Inquirer’s room (as she spied on Lirellian and the Inquirer in bed). The word ‘harpy’ was thoroughly abused.
Elvenby’s Amendments tended to ignore her, while Dwarvenby’s played her up for comedy. But that was boring. Like her or hate her (and there were days when Daniriel hated her), Lady Pentaghast-Blanchett wasn’t shrill. She was sharp, picky, and ambitious, but she wasn’t shrill. She wasn’t in love with the Herald, either; she just got offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and didn’t want to turn it down.
Add in that the Inquirer was betrothed to Lady Pentagram-Benkett and that she was being humiliated by her husband-to-be publicly scorning her in favor of an elf…
Well. That could get interesting.
Lady Komnania should have known better than to get involved with some half-common Marcher clan. Being the wife of the Inquirer, a title that no one else could claim, had overruled her sense. Now she was caught in a contract that she could not break with her betrothed publicly pawing at some servant.
She wouldn’t have minded a mistress if the man had just done his duty by her. She would have preferred if he had chosen Madame Victoire le Fleur; at least it would demonstrate that he had taste. Nevertheless, a mistress is no matter when you are a wife. But the man would not follow through!
Andraste herself knew that she did not look forward to their marriage, but she was doing her duty by him! She greeted the noble guests, attended Madame Victoire’s solars and Lady Josephine’s soirees, settled disputes between the commoners, ensured that Skyhod’s* stores were sufficient for their needs, and even embroidered and mended the Inquirer’s clothes…she was behaving properly! Why would he not do his part?
He wouldn’t even administer to the estate! She could understand leaving some lordly duties permanently in the hands of advisers, especially when one had to journey across Thedas to save it, but he left all tasks in their hands! He merely signed the paperwork and occasionally deigned to join council!
If only there was anyone else suitable in Skyhod. The Montebank heir was, but she would need a child as her heir, which Lady Komnania could not provide (pity; Lady Josette was sensible and sweet, ambitious and kind, hardworking and gracious…)
Daniriel blushed. She was not turning this into another ode to Lady Josephine; the others still teased her about it. Even if Taevin swore up and down that Lady Josephine smiled when she read it…
Daniriel shook her head sharply and went back to writing.
Ser Cassiopeia had flung off her titles to serve the Chantry, and even if she had not, Komnania married out of the Pentagram family. Darian Puvas was from Tevinter and known to prefer men besides. Other nobles congregating around Skyhod (and they were scarce indeed) tended to be married or otherwise ineligible.
“Hey, Lady Komnania,” Serah Dwarvenby said, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Just got back. The Inquirer’s on his way in. Went to Emprise du Lion this time.”
Komnania sniffed. “My thanks, serah.” A dwarf he may be, but Verik Dwarvenby had earned respect. For his skill with the written word, if nothing else.
“LIRELLIAN!” the Inquirer shouted, like a fishmonger selling his wares. “I’ve returned victorious, Lirellian-” And then he locked eyes with her. “Oh, what are you still doing here?”
She would have almost preferred it if he slapped her. She would have felt the same, but at least the crowd would be outraged rather than watching her humiliation silently. But she was Lady Komnania Domena Sorilla Zempatica Pentagram-Benkett. She would not be cowed by an ill-bred brat.
“You have neglected your duty-”
“Duty!” Treeville scoffed. Komnania did not permit her expression to change. “I have told you, I am the Inquirer! I do not have to abide by your precious contract!”
Komnania lifted her chin. “Your duty towards justice, your Grace. Ser Ruth of the Grey Wardens still awaits-”
“Pah!” Treeville snorted. “The Grey Wardens. What need have I of them? I have conquered Emprise du Lion and cleared it of Venatori!”
“We fought Red Templars, your Grace,” Warden Whiteboard said.
“What does it matter? They are one and the same!” Treeville waved a hand as he sauntered off. “Lirellian! Come!”
Komnania’s lips tightened. The one duty he was needed for, in Skyhold, and he left a Grey Warden to rot. A Grey Warden who had surrendered herself to the Inquiry’s** mercy and whose presence had certainly been noted. To neglect to even judge her…the reputation of the Inquiry sank by the hour.
“Pppbbthh.” Ah, the crude elf was making obscene noises again. “Talks about her like she’s a dog, like. That’s not right.”
And even the crudest elf in Skyhod could see his misbehavior. Enough was enough. If the Treevilles bred such ill-mannered louts, then they ought to face it themselves.
A firmly-worded letter ought to inform them of their impending disgrace.
Daniriel smirked and picked up a fresh roll of parchment. While Lady Treveylan’s visit had been a burden on the servants, there was a certain satisfaction in the Herald cowering behind crates for fear of his mother. Now, how to begin?…
Lady Treeville’s arrival shook the foundations of Skyhod.
Or at least the foundations of its Inquirer…
*Not a typo, but another one of Dick’s 'imaginative’ terms.
“Flowers suit you, Lirellian,” Josette said, placing the crown of Andraste’s Grace on her head. “Well, everything suits you, but these flowers are particularly suitable.”
Lirellian laughed, feeling her cheeks warm. “This from the most beautiful woman in the Inquirer’s forces- nay, in all of Thedas? I name you a flatterer, my lady.”
“I shall only accept that name if you do in kind,” Josette said.
“And I shall have to disagree,” Elvenby said, gravely bowing his head so Lirellian could crown him with Embrium blossoms. “Certainly Lady Josette is the most beautiful woman in Antiva, and in the Inquirer’s diplomatic forces,” and here he caught Lirellian’s eye, “but I would name you the most beautiful of the Inquirer’s forces and of all Thedas.”
Lirellian felt her cheeks burn and found that she could not meet Elvenby’s eyes. She hastily looked over at Josette, who was beaming at Elvenby as she accepted her crown of Crystal Grace. “Well said!” the lady declared. “And now I must away, for I must attend to the Inquirer’s council. Not to worry, I shan’t mention where the flowers come from.” Josette’s smile turned mischievous. “It will be sweet to let them wonder, though I can’t imagine that Sister Ginger won’t know at once.”
Elvenby looked at Lady Josette with alarm.
“No harm will come of her knowing,” Lady Josette said, letting solemnity rule her features. “The Templars, the nobles, they may flock to the Inquirer now, but they will betray him in a heartbeat if he falls from power. The true loyalty of these forces lies with the scouts and the workers, and all of them are far more loyal to you than to him.”
–
No one looked amiss at one of the eleven servants bringing a group of papers to Varric’s room; if anyone wondered, they might speculate that Varric had forgotten his latest novel somewhere and she was simply doing her duty by bringing it to him.
She was certain that he wouldn’t be able to resist editing this and adding it to the Inquirer’s Tale. Maybe she could even be there when Lady Josephine read it. Maybe it would make her smile…
She shook her head, trying to make herself stop blushing, and hurried back to her duties.
hi fey, i have to go to school soon and perform a dance and i'm really really dreading it bc my anxiety has been awful lately and i had to have lunch w/ my homophobic estranged mom yesterday and i'm feeling pretty crappy. could i request a dickherald or a baby lavelan or something that's just funny and makes me smile? most of ur stories make me smile but if you could write something funny for me to read afterwards i would be so grateful. xxxo
In hindsight, Richard can admit that attempting to seduce Lavellan by posing nude in her quarters was likely not the wisest approach to take. Passion can rob any man of his better sense, but even so, upon careful review - and several hours spent gingerly applying ice packs to certain areas of his person - he could see where that might have come across... inaccurately.
What he doesn’t understand are the blasted dreams.
Every night, subsequent to the... incident, Richard goes to sleep, and opens his eyes to find himself in the old stuffy governess’ classroom where he used to take his most hated etiquette lessons when he was a child. The one where, no matter if the window was open, or the door, it always felt like the air was a stagnant pool he could never quite escape.
In his dream it almost is, cloying at him as thick as pea soup. But he can’t simply leave. He’s been shackled to the little desk set he used to use, clapped in irons like a grim prisoner, as his wrinkly old governess stands at the front of the room with her scratchy blackboard and her gimlet stare. Richard doesn’t ever recall her nails being quite so sharp, though, nor her gaze actually glinting like firelight.
“Write your lines,” she tells him, and then gestures to the board. “And don’t stop until you run out of parchment.”
Richard looks at the desk. Most of it is parchment. Stacks and stacks of it, all blank, with an awkward quill and a drippy inkwell next to it. The lines on the blackboard read ‘I shall not be indecent, nor proposition elves’ in incongruously graceful and fluid lettering.
It is a different sentence every night. Last night’s had been ‘I shall not presume my sexual advances are welcome, unless explicitly told so’. They all seem to sort of run around the same theme, however.
Richard doesn’t know what the devil to make of it.
But the more he hesitates to write, the closer the governess moves towards him. Claws rapping. Eyes glinting.
He doesn’t fancy what might happen if she gets close enough to touch.
With a shaky gulp, he picks up his first piece of parchment, and gets to writing.
Can I ask for more Dick!Herald adventures, or is that a closed chapter now that he's dead and all? If not, could I ask for something alike Dick having sneaked his way into Lavellan's bedroom to 'surprise' her (take a guess with what ^^" ), and of course it ends up badly or him on way or another? I just really think Dick is hilarious.... ^^"
Nah, Dickheral is mostly just waiting to turn into a proper fic when I can make it that way. We can do a short! :3
Richard Trevelyan is naked.
Richard Trevelyan is naked, in her room.
Richard Trevelyan is naked, in her room, on her bed.
Lavellan stares. The man is sprawled out on top of hersheets, which is really inconvenient, because now she’s going to have to changethem. Trevelyan’s not a badly built man, she supposes, but he’s certainly notwhat she would personally call ‘attractive’, either. There’s no one part of thepicture she can place as really sealing the deal on her lack of interest inhim. It’s really just the overall whole of it that makes revulsion crawl up herspine, and settle beneath her skin.
“What are youdoing?” she gets out, one hand still on the door handle.
“I am making my intentions crystal clear, I do believe,”Dick says, lowering his eyebrows in what she suspects is an effort to seemsmouldering and intense. He twists his mouth oddly, too. The look actually doesremind her of something, but it takes her a moment to place it – it’s theexpression she’s seen wrinkly old war hounds make whenever something confusesthem.
Taking a step sideways, Lavellan pushes the door to her roomwide open again.
“Out,” she snaps.
Dick frowns, and sits up.
“Now, really,” he says. “There is no need for that tone! AsI have assured you, time and time again, I have every intention of making anhonest woman out of you. More honest than some witless elven peasant orwilderness huntsman could! I don’t even mind about the arm, really!”
She grinds her teeth.
He is the Herald of Andraste. He is carrying the anchor. Itis a force of effort not to snarl at him that it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t‘mind’ about the arm, because the best he can hope for in the next few years isthat he’ll only lose his own left limb, too.
“Get. Out,” she says, instead.
“Aha. You say that, but I can see past it – you’reflustered. Intrigued. Your fair maiden’s heart has sped at the sight of me.”Trevelyan stands up from the bed, and saunters towards her. “Don’t deny it anylonger, my dear. There’s no need to resist the magnetism between us.”
Her eyes narrow.
Two minutes later, Trevelyan is fleeing down the hall,naked, screaming blood murder with his hair lit on fire, and a furious,summoned storm cloud chasing after his wake. Lavellan watches, grimly, as hedisappears down the turn in the corridor only to summon up the horrifiedshrieks of several unsuspecting visitors to the keep.
Then she turns back to her room, and lets out a long breath.
I need more Orlesian scandalous historical ship fics. Illustraded ones, if we're lucky. I can totally picture them. Maybe Dick gets his hands on them at the Winter Palace and takes them home to hide them under his pillow for... inspiration. Solas notices Dick being furtive with paper so back at Skyhold he tries to get a look at what it is and oh... oh no. Good grief. And Varric spots him and has a look too and goes "Hey, Dick's improving!" And then Dick walks in "... improving at what?"
“Did you write… I hesitate to call it ‘erotica’, but a better term escapes me… did you write erotica about June and Ghilan’nain?” Solas demands, not even certain if he’s more offended or amused at this point. It is infinitely preferable to Trevelyan’s previous literary exploits.
And June and Ghilan’nain would both utterly despise it.
Trevelyan hesitates.
“No,” he says. “Why? Did you find something? I bet a servant left it there. And why are you going through my things?!”
How does he even know the names of the gods? Though, to Solas’ complete lack of surprise, he had managed to get both genders of his main characters wrong. And characterization.
And spelling.
Varric clears his throat.
“Jilanane rolled his hands across Junay’s supple flesh. He had never wanted any woman so badly before in his life, as he did this strange workshop siren. As beautiful as any of his holla stallions... See, now, why is he comparing her to stallions isn’t that term just for male animals…?”
Solas frankly does not even know what to do with this, as Trevelyan stalks forward to try and snatch the papers in question away from Varric. It is not as if he is going to get offended on behalf of the persons depicted. But the mental images his mind keeps supplying him with are… not pleasant.
Varric, for his part, keeps them out of the herald’s grasp until he’s finished marking his edits and critique in red ink.
Then he hands it back.
“I want your next draft by Friday,” he says.
“I did not write it!” Trevelyan insists, and with one last glare, huffs his way out of the hall.
“My imagination might never recover from the perils of his ‘literature’,” Solas muses.
@feynites I had a dream where Olwyn was Richard’s cousin in the Dick!HeraldAU and she arrived at Skyhold and was just like, “I’d like to say that the entire family isn’t like him but my parents literally disowned me and locked me in a room without food for three days before carting me off to the Circle when I froze some bathwater so...I think I only became a halfway decent person on account of a very strong case of nature vs nurture. As in, I somehow came out a better person while living in a mage prison where I was treated like a second-class citizen. I also do not understand how this happened.”
And then she spent the next several days threatening to tell everyone embarrassing stories about Dick and he forgot that she literally hasn’t heard from or seen him since she was seven and so he keeps trying to act all chummy with her and this conversation happened...
You inspired me to create my second Inquisitor, a human mage. Who happens to be Dick’s little sister. Sort of. I guess her brother is a bit less of a dick than your Dick. ^^
