#seajudge

It was once said that Lady Cecelia Hawke’s parties brought together the best of the worst in society. Or perhaps, the worst of the best. The tales of orgies and pistols at dawn might be a little overexaggerated, but they at least once gathered outside to watch two drunken idiots waggle swords at each other in an attempt to save their maiden’s virtue (not that there was much left of that). Cecelia argued that it was the bringing together of the finest minds in the country; scholars and politicians, poets, scientific men and societies best ladies. She only supplied the drink, the gambling and the dinners as a backdrop for a sort of cross-media intellectualism. She was the spark that would light the fire of the new world. Or at least, that’s how she intended to be remembered. How was she to know that getting so many intellectuals in one room could lead to such debauchery? Still, it did make very good fun. 

It wasn’t all that hard to get invited to one of her soirées but it was a damn sight harder to get invited back. You had one chance to make a good impression and one chance only. If you sat in the corner all evening looked bored or worse, judgmental, you wouldn't be called back anytime soon. This was a land for freethinkers and the only man who could get away with such behaviour was her husband, who as man of the house, could do what he wanted.

            YSENIA ALWAYS MAKES it a point to speak to each visitor Skyhold welcomes, noble or of common birth, at least once before carrying on to whatever duty calls then. It appeals to the masses and satiates the more fortunate, while also giving the woman a better idea of who she has vouching for her cause. Josephine had been awfully kind about the nobles that she invited onto their territory, which was a saving grace for both Ysenia and whatever higher-born miscreant who dared assert themselves over her. 

She was never good with nobles. She’s gotten better and has found herself kinder in their company, but she still struggled so. Today her ambassador is silently unsure and has been brief with details. When he arrives, she announces him with a beaming smile nevertheless, hesitating before leaving the Inquisitor to deal with their new guest alone. Ysenia tries to mimic such a kind gesture, though it is tight-lipped and reserved.

“Hello.” She says softly, shoulders rolling back. Her chin lifts, “It appears I am unfamiliar with your House’s name. Forgive me. Many Ferelden nobles do.”

   ❝  daniel, i have something for you,  ❞  having the entered the room without a single sound,  the outsider merely stood in the door frame, as if asking permission to enter further.  a smile graced his features, pale and worn. a rare kindness.

for @seajudge​ / meme

“Nurture your grudge as you please.” 

This young man perhaps hopes to be Ealdorman, but his youth prevents her from assuming he is such yet. The court of Wihtwara is home to Ealdormen of advancing age, at their prime in her father’s reign. Now, they submit to the patronising folly of Christianity, cosseting their daughters as pawns only so long as they remain virginal and stupid. Elfriede knows she is lucky to have avoided such a fate, her mother instilling in her the faith of the people who lived in these lands before even the Romans came and began to spread the stain of their nailed god. 

She regards him with cool, dark eyes, the corners of her mouth upturned. Amusement plays across her features, but whatever she truly thinks is well hidden. She has had nearly twenty years to perfect the art of survival in this viper’s den. 

for @seajudge​ / meme

Jacob laughs and blood bubbles up to his mouth. He turns awkwardly away from Daniel, spitting it out to the floor where it mixes with mud and straw. He sees small insects beginning to move around, investigate the crimson stain spreading across their world. For a moment, perspective tilts, and Jacob is forced to lie back heavily on the cot. Even in the infirmary, Daniel could not be mistaken for any common soldier. His hair and skin are clean and soft, and his clothes are of the finest quality. The low light around them make a halo around Daniel’s head, and the thought amuses Jacob. Angelic, his prince is not. 

“The ribs are wounded. They will be a pig to heal, but it’s nothing so serious as all that.” When Jacob smiles, his teeth are stained a dreadful red. Wounded and winded, he is still the great Prince-Captain. “Although I appreciate the sentiment, Dan,” he wheezes out, reaching for Daniel’s hand. Fuck Floran customs, he thinks. He is an injured man, and he will hold his lover’s hand, if only for a moment. 

for @seajudge​ / meme

Jacob hates London. Everyone is perversely preoccupied with themselves and other people. Hours dedicated to discussing one another and the gossip of the hour. Petty minds laughing at others for a dress one season out of fashion. He wonders darkly how these featherheads might react if they knew Lord Hawke has all but drowned in the spilled blood, cut down men from Portsmouth to the New World with no hesitance. He fantasises about their outrage, but he cannot bring down Cee’s reputation with his own. A woman in society, her reputation is the most important thing she has.

The townhouse here is Cecelia’s, inherited from her mother. Jacob cannot go there now. Blood falls from a wound near his hairline, his shoulder shrieking with pain. A simple tavern brawl - the other man had come out the worst for it. Jacob hasn’t lost that which made him such a devilish pirate on the open seas. He can bring a man to his knees with ease. A few scrapes are very little concern. But he cannot bring his bloodied bodied back to Cecelia to worry at. He imagines blood stains on her fine furniture and frowns. 

for @seajudge​ / meme / continuation from here

The sheets have been changed at least three times, soaking up the sweat that pours from Jacob’s skin. Cecelia hasn’t seen him, even since he regained consciousness. Instead she has sent Daniel to his side. Guilt and shame make him irritable. Does Cecelia hate him? He remembers crying out for Daniel and drags a hand down his face. No woman could stand being second in affections, Cee least of all. She told him she dreaded the moment Daniel came between them, and the moment is here. In his agony and delirium, Jacob thought of his lover, and not his wife. He growls and falls heavily against the pillows. 

Daniel sleeps curled up in a day bed repurposed in Jacob’s room. He would prefer to feel the comforting weight beside him, but the physicians had been clear. He needed to rest, sleep in his own bed. Cee had asked - if she could not sleep beside him, neither would Daniel. And he supposed, it put some sort of propriety on a situation that was erring ever closer to scandal. In the low light of dawn, Jacob watches Daniel sleep. His face relaxed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks, no one could deny he’s beautiful. But Cee is the most beautiful woman in England, Jacob knows it and has been told so. He feels torturous, traitorous, unable to choose and condemning them all. 

He shuts his eyes.

Hours later, he wakes to Daniel’s touch. How delicately Daniel mopos his brow, combs his hair! Guilt crawls up Jacob’s spine once more, but he is tired, and Daniel’s gentle care soothes him.