"How dare you!" the guard captain shouted angrily as two of his own men seized him by the arms. "I am guard captain! I won't be treated like this!"
Jeven was an ugly man even on his best days, Sophia thought, and anger really did nothing to help that. His face was quite red, his beard coming in rather patchy, and a vein looked about to burst up the right side of his forehead. Honestly, she had to restrain herself from laughing. As the guard captain was dragged from his office, he caught sight of Sophia, his undoing, and his rage was only multiplied. "You meddling bitch, this was none of your affair! I'll see you hanged! Quartered! I don't care who your father is, this will not stand!" Well, that was a rather impressive threat. She looked forward to seeing him try. At this rate, criminal organizations were beginning to have to wait in line. She smiled back at Bran as he gave a rather cheery wave to her and Lucien beside her.
Sophia supposed it was disconcerting that the corruption had spread all the way to guard captain (again), but honestly, she couldn't find it in herself to feel trouble at the moment, not after the work she'd just done. A patrol saved, an ambush routed, evidence to implicate Jeven, and the Viscount's daughter had not a scratch on her to show for it. She was getting rather good at this. No doubt Rilien's enchantments had helped out on a number of occasions, as was Lucien, her immovable ally. She found it rather pleasing that her effectiveness on the field was increased drastically when fighting closely alongside others.
"Some time in the Gallows will do him good, I think," Sophia mused pleasantly, crossing her arms. Really, she doubted any amount of time in dungeons would truly change the man, but it couldn't hurt. The guard would have to find a new captain now, as well. She would have suggested a man with qualities such as Lucien's, but honestly, she expected the captain had to do as much paperwork as actual guard duty, and she really didn't know another man with qualities such as Lucien's. Surely the Maker would forgive her if she chose to hoard him for herself.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked, turning to Lucien. "Solving crimes is rather tiring work. But... very invigorating as well. Strange, how hearing a man threaten to hang and quarter me can actually put me in a better mood."
"Well, if you haven't made enemies somewhere along the way, you haven't stood for anything, really," Lucien replied with a touch of sanguine humor. Tracking the man's departure with his single visible eye, he raised the accompanying brow at the offer, which was a little strange coming from Sophia, but inclined his head. "That seems appropriate. It's the kind of thing that warrants a little celebration, perhaps. Hanged Man, or...?" He allowed the question to trail off. He wasn't any more damaged than she was, and had no particular inclinations to make his way back to Lowtown yet, though naturally, any drinking establishment in Hightown would be unlikely to let him in. He was not nearly as famous as Sophia here, for his station or his deeds, and honestly, he preferred things that way. The trappings of such renown were not something he would ever seek for himself, though he would admit they had their uses.
Frankly, the less cause Varric Tethras had to talk about him, the better.
"Excellent," Sophia replied, before motioning for him to follow, "right this way." She strode her way out of the guard quarters, smiling and nodding politely to any guardsmen she passed. She wondered how many, if any of them, were in danger of being as Jeven was. With any luck, none. Under her watch, she'd have the city guard become an honorable and effective organization, fit to protect the entire city, not just the keep and town in which she lived.
Instead of heading for the double doors of the keep as Lucien might have expected Sophia instead turned up the stairs and towards her family's own quarters. The pair of guards posted gave her a quick nod, before sliding one door open enough for the pair of them to pass inside. Once through the doors, she wordlessly led the way towards her own rooms, making sure Lucien was still following her. She was only slightly afraid he would either refuse to follow her for some reason, or that her father would come by and come to exactly the wrong conclusion, so once she and Lucien had both passed through the door to her rooms and she had gently shut it, she went straight to the heart of the matter, walking swiftly to a nearby cabinet and retrieving a bottle of golden colored liquid.
"While I'm not in the habit of hoarding powerful alcoholic beverages in my own quarters, this particular one was a gift from our mutual dwarven friend. Golden Scythe 4:90 Black. Honestly, I don't rightly know what it is, but I think we should drink it! Some of it. Slowly." She realized she was acting slightly strange, but really, she didn't remember the last time she had been in this good a mood. So what if she was being a little giddy, didn't she deserve to have fun occasionally?
Lucien, still standing and looking perhaps a trifle more uncomfortable than usual, felt his mouth quirk at the none-too-subtle pun. He probably deserved that one. "I happen to know what that is, and 'slowly' should be the operative word if you wish to remember this tomorrow," he advised. Actually, given the infrequency of her imbibing, he might have cautioned against it altogether, but he didn't want to ruin her obvious good mood. He'd just have to make sure that things didn't go overboard too quickly, lest he find himself explaining to the Seneschal (or worse, the Viscount) why Sophia was quite intoxicated in the middle of the afternoon.
"Right," Sophia said, barreling onward. "There's a table over here..." she moved towards one of the walls and grabbed a small end table by the edges, grunting a little as she hefted it into a better spot. She thumped the bottle down on top of it. "And some chairs..." They were mismatched, but that was far from her mind at the moment. "And the glasses." The glasses were more like teacups, cute little things, but if it was as powerful as Lucien suggested, perhaps that was good.
"I'll let you do the pouring. I will be right back." And with that she slipped into a side room, shutting the door behind her. Shortly afterwards followed the sounds of mail and plate dropping unceremoniously to the ground, and a sword being hung up on the wall. She emerged perhaps a minute later wearing a simple sleeveless tunic of white linen, probably what she had been wearing under her mail, along with a pair of belted breeches and much softer-looking boots. She quite suddenly stopped and seemed to realize herself. "I'm sorry, I'm acting... very strange. I didn't mean to drag you in here like this, I just..." She turned a little red and awkwardly pushed some golden hairs away from her face. "Ugh. Now I need a drink."
Well, this certainly counted as the single oddest visit he'd ever paid to a lady's rooms, and that included the time he'd found himself in the Lady Fleche's by complete accident. He still wasn't sure what use one woman had for so many pairs of shoes, but then, perhaps he wasn't meant to know. Somewhere, his etiquette instructor, stifling old woman that she was, turned over in her grave. Repeatedly. And was probably shouting at him from beyond it, he thought, flinching when he heard metal hit stone. Was she...? Yes, yes she was. Oh.
Trying not to think about all the potentially horrible rumors that could start in such a fashion, Lucien decided to at least make himself useful and uncork the Scythe. A faint pop, and the air was permeated with the sharp smell of a very strong liquor. He could only imagine the thoughts running through Varric's head when he decided it would be a good idea to gift this to Sophia of all people. Likely, there had been a lot of laughter involved, presumably at somebody's expense. Shaking his head, he started off with a little less than two inches of the stuff in each vessel. Restoppering the deceptively-elegant glass bottle, he set it back down on the table, in enough time to turn around as the door opened again. It took perhaps two more seconds for the situation to get even more irregular, and he was torn between agreeing with the sentiment and trying to make things a bit less... strange.
Given who he was and his concern for her constitution if she tried to down the glass in one go, as usually accompanied such statements, he went for the latter, holding up a hand in the universal gesture for a slight pause. Clearing his throat softly, he went for somewhat-humorous honesty. "I assure you that you would have had to work much harder to drag me anywhere, my friend. Admittedly, I would perhaps be wise to fear for the state of my citizenship application should certain parties become aware of my presence here, but then I assume I would be granted at least the good word of a prominent noblewoman were such a situation to arise." He lowered the hand, only just refraining from using it to gesture to one of the chairs. One did not invite someone to sit in their own home, even if he thought she could use the stillness. Still, he did pull it out, because some habits were impossible to kill.
Making a clear effort to slow herself down, Sophia slid into the chair opposite of Lucien, taking her cup carefully into her hands and lifting it to her mouth. Rather than risk smelling it for long, she simply took a small sip and set the cup down. Almost immediately her face contorted rather comically, and she sputtered for a moment. Her eyes had almost immediately began to water. "That was... I don't even know..." One thing it did do was make her feel rather warm all of a sudden. Perhaps a single small cup of this would be more than enough.
Lucien bit back a chuckle, reaching into a pocket and tugging free a clean handkerchief, which he figured would be of assistance with the eye-watering, and handing it over. "I think 'awful' may be the word you're looking for. Or perhaps 'horrendous.' I do believe Elissa referred to it as 'putrid' at the coronation, but I think it may be more caustic than rotten, myself." He took a sip of his own, feeling the stuff burn all the way down. It was perhaps fortunate that his father favored alcohol in this vein-- he'd learned his rather unfortunate lessons about such liquids after a misadventure in a locked cabinet that a friend of his had made rather short work of.
It took Sophia a moment while she was dabbing her eyes to connect the words 'Elissa' and 'coronation', but when she did, her hands fell to her lap and she blinked at Lucien a few times, dumbfounded. "You've met Elissa Cousland? The Warden Queen? You were at the coronation?" Rather than give the man any time to explain, she simply launched into a series of questions she had always wanted to ask. "What was she like? Did you speak with her? I've always wanted to talk with her. The others were there, too, weren't they? All of her companions? Did you speak to any of them?"
Lucien held his tongue until it seemed that the questions had paused for a moment, half-smiling patiently. It was perhaps understandable for someone to be a bit starstruck by Elissa-- she was that kind of person, to say nothing of the incomparable litany of her deeds. "I've known her for quite a bit of our lives," he said at last. "I'm sure you know how it goes-- the families are allies, and from time to time, the official visits are more friendly than businesslike, and the relations and children get involved." He shrugged, then fell pensively silent, trying to decide which words he wanted. "She's... spirited. Always has been. The maturity was a bit late in coming, if I may say so, but then I certainly understand that. Resolved. Courageous, of course, but judicious. Quite willing to rely on her friends when she needs to."
He had met one or two of the companions, but given the rush of events leading up to the coronation, he couldn't really offer opinions on anyone besides Alistair, and the man was king, so perhaps he ought not.
Sophia had been about to explode in disbelief again when Lucien said he'd known her for much of his life, but instead fell into silence once he continued, paying a rather extreme amount of attention, hanging on his words. Once he was finished she leaned back in her chair. "She... sounds incredible. Ferelden's lucky to have her... as is King Alistair, I imagine." She smiled a bit at the thought. Her story was almost too incredible to believe, and yet none doubted it. Some of the smaller details, maybe, but not her accomplishments as a whole.
"She's been a bit of an inspiration to me, you see. Going from an unmarried noblewoman, dreaming of something larger than that, and ending up becoming the first Grey Warden to kill an Archdemon and live. And then immediately afterwards she becomes Queen of Ferelden by getting to marry the love of her life? I'd think it was strange if a girl didn't want to be just a little bit like her." She wasn't envious of Elissa Cousland's life, as she'd certainly had to endure a great deal of hardship, but the fact that she was able to achieve so much amidst such turmoil and chaos, personal and otherwise, was inspiring.
"I'd like to think if I can be even a quarter as worthy as she, I can keep this city from falling apart, keep my family from falling apart. Next to the problem of uniting a fractured nation against a Blight, my troubles seem suddenly much more bearable." She touched Lucien's hand briefly. "Especially when I have the right people with me." Sophia decided another sip was in order. It didn't go down much easier than the last, but at least she was ready for it this time.
"Sounds like you might need to work on finding some new people," Lucien replied with half a smile. Other than that, though, he took the implied compliment without comment, glancing into his cup before taking another swallow, this one a tad larger than the last. "Though..." he paused, grimacing just faintly at the afterburn or his thoughts, it was hard to tell. "It's not really a matter of worthiness, I think. I do not doubt that Elissa is an extraordinary person, and Ferelden would have been hard-pressed to pick a better woman for the job. Her qualities are quite suited to the tasks she has undertaken, and this coupled with her resolve to see them through produced the results we can all appreciate. It is well that she was there, but she is still a human being-- accomplishments of the like are not beyond the reach of others with the right hearts and the needed circumstances. Certainly not beyond your reach, with time." The assessment was delivered straightforwardly, with no hint of flattery.
Of course, one had to hope that the circumstances needed to make a hero like that would not appear in Kirkwall, but Lucien, despite all evidence to the contrary, was not a foolish man. Chances were good that they would need many such folk before the decade was done.
The sound of a clearing throat was perhaps the only indication he gave that he was slightly less than perfectly-poised at the moment, and he finally allowed himself to actually examine the room he was in. He was used to such places being decorated with numerous house crests and pieces of art with old ancestors and great historical scenes, but there was something of that missing here. He found it a bit curious; perhaps such items were simply not to Sophia's taste. Still, he thought it might not be too intrusive of him to ask, considering. "Well, you know something of my family," he began ruefully-- it was not, after all, the most pleasant knowledge to part with-- "Would you be averse to telling me of yours?"
Someday, Sophia would tell him how frustrated she was by his impenetrable humility and courtesy, but it would not be today. Perhaps she hadn't had enough to drink yet. With that in mind, she took another sip, feeling the burn of the liquid run through her innards. Her family wasn't her favorite subject in the world, since it always brought constant reminders of her duty, and the fact that being in the Viscount's family, as the eldest child no less, made it so difficult to find real friends. There were so few people who would meet her and learn who and what she was, and then want nothing from her. But Lucien was very right; he had opened up to her about his own family, something she believed was rather difficult for him. Of course she would do the same.
"Well, if you know some of Kirkwall's more recent history, you'll know I haven't always been the daughter of the Viscount. I was eleven when my father was appointed. He was... different, back then. I think he had hoped to remarry for a time, but no one captured his heart like my mother did." This was of course the difficult part. Her mother's death in childbirth was the root of all the strife within her family today. It would never be an easy subject to speak of.
"I remember very little of my mother. I'm told I've grown to look just like her. If you'll believe it, my mother wasn't a noblewoman. She actually shared leadership of a mercenary group out of Starkhaven, though money was not their primary focus, as I hear it told. She fought for those that could not fight for themselves. Eventually she traveled to Kirkwall, and met my father. I don't know many of the details... he speaks of her only rarely now."
Notably, she left out Saemus, as well as the man who had shared leadership with Vesenia until arriving in Kirkwall. While Saemus was merely being troublesome and willful at the moment, Dairren Quinn was another matter, one that she didn't fully understand herself. She never had, and that was why it had bothered her so deeply. A simple answer to the question of why would go a long way towards giving her peace of mind.
"Oh, I can believe that quite readily," he replied. He did not presume she had gotten her martial sensibilities from her father, as to his knowledge the Viscount was more diplomat than warrior. Of course, such things weren't really inherited, but the presence of someone with such a talent in one's early life did tend to put things in a certain perspective. "A shame, that stories of her life are not common. It can be quite cathartic, to share memories in such a way. I've always found it a comfort to know that for all she is gone, my mother will not be forgotten, and more than that can be remembered with happiness." He paused. "But I presume too much. People are complex, and there's no one way to handle loss, I suppose."
"And I'm afraid my father's way is not the healthiest," Sophia said sadly. Perhaps she would speak to him about it sometime, though she feared too much talk of the past would only serve to further depress her father. It was a risk Sophia wasn't sure she was willing to take.
"I should let you go," she said, once the last of her cup was drained. "I believe I've kidnapped you for long enough. Thank you for... well, for putting up with me." She smiled despite her minor embarrassment, certain that she was about to hit yet another wall of humility.
She was not wrong. "Your company is never an imposition, Sophia, and you are most welcome to mine, if you find value in it," he replied simply, draining the rest of his cup in one go and setting it down gently on the table. Rising, he bowed shallowly and turned to take his leave.
Jeven was an ugly man even on his best days, Sophia thought, and anger really did nothing to help that. His face was quite red, his beard coming in rather patchy, and a vein looked about to burst up the right side of his forehead. Honestly, she had to restrain herself from laughing. As the guard captain was dragged from his office, he caught sight of Sophia, his undoing, and his rage was only multiplied. "You meddling bitch, this was none of your affair! I'll see you hanged! Quartered! I don't care who your father is, this will not stand!" Well, that was a rather impressive threat. She looked forward to seeing him try. At this rate, criminal organizations were beginning to have to wait in line. She smiled back at Bran as he gave a rather cheery wave to her and Lucien beside her.
Sophia supposed it was disconcerting that the corruption had spread all the way to guard captain (again), but honestly, she couldn't find it in herself to feel trouble at the moment, not after the work she'd just done. A patrol saved, an ambush routed, evidence to implicate Jeven, and the Viscount's daughter had not a scratch on her to show for it. She was getting rather good at this. No doubt Rilien's enchantments had helped out on a number of occasions, as was Lucien, her immovable ally. She found it rather pleasing that her effectiveness on the field was increased drastically when fighting closely alongside others.
"Some time in the Gallows will do him good, I think," Sophia mused pleasantly, crossing her arms. Really, she doubted any amount of time in dungeons would truly change the man, but it couldn't hurt. The guard would have to find a new captain now, as well. She would have suggested a man with qualities such as Lucien's, but honestly, she expected the captain had to do as much paperwork as actual guard duty, and she really didn't know another man with qualities such as Lucien's. Surely the Maker would forgive her if she chose to hoard him for herself.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked, turning to Lucien. "Solving crimes is rather tiring work. But... very invigorating as well. Strange, how hearing a man threaten to hang and quarter me can actually put me in a better mood."
"Well, if you haven't made enemies somewhere along the way, you haven't stood for anything, really," Lucien replied with a touch of sanguine humor. Tracking the man's departure with his single visible eye, he raised the accompanying brow at the offer, which was a little strange coming from Sophia, but inclined his head. "That seems appropriate. It's the kind of thing that warrants a little celebration, perhaps. Hanged Man, or...?" He allowed the question to trail off. He wasn't any more damaged than she was, and had no particular inclinations to make his way back to Lowtown yet, though naturally, any drinking establishment in Hightown would be unlikely to let him in. He was not nearly as famous as Sophia here, for his station or his deeds, and honestly, he preferred things that way. The trappings of such renown were not something he would ever seek for himself, though he would admit they had their uses.
Frankly, the less cause Varric Tethras had to talk about him, the better.
"Excellent," Sophia replied, before motioning for him to follow, "right this way." She strode her way out of the guard quarters, smiling and nodding politely to any guardsmen she passed. She wondered how many, if any of them, were in danger of being as Jeven was. With any luck, none. Under her watch, she'd have the city guard become an honorable and effective organization, fit to protect the entire city, not just the keep and town in which she lived.
Instead of heading for the double doors of the keep as Lucien might have expected Sophia instead turned up the stairs and towards her family's own quarters. The pair of guards posted gave her a quick nod, before sliding one door open enough for the pair of them to pass inside. Once through the doors, she wordlessly led the way towards her own rooms, making sure Lucien was still following her. She was only slightly afraid he would either refuse to follow her for some reason, or that her father would come by and come to exactly the wrong conclusion, so once she and Lucien had both passed through the door to her rooms and she had gently shut it, she went straight to the heart of the matter, walking swiftly to a nearby cabinet and retrieving a bottle of golden colored liquid.
"While I'm not in the habit of hoarding powerful alcoholic beverages in my own quarters, this particular one was a gift from our mutual dwarven friend. Golden Scythe 4:90 Black. Honestly, I don't rightly know what it is, but I think we should drink it! Some of it. Slowly." She realized she was acting slightly strange, but really, she didn't remember the last time she had been in this good a mood. So what if she was being a little giddy, didn't she deserve to have fun occasionally?
Lucien, still standing and looking perhaps a trifle more uncomfortable than usual, felt his mouth quirk at the none-too-subtle pun. He probably deserved that one. "I happen to know what that is, and 'slowly' should be the operative word if you wish to remember this tomorrow," he advised. Actually, given the infrequency of her imbibing, he might have cautioned against it altogether, but he didn't want to ruin her obvious good mood. He'd just have to make sure that things didn't go overboard too quickly, lest he find himself explaining to the Seneschal (or worse, the Viscount) why Sophia was quite intoxicated in the middle of the afternoon.
"Right," Sophia said, barreling onward. "There's a table over here..." she moved towards one of the walls and grabbed a small end table by the edges, grunting a little as she hefted it into a better spot. She thumped the bottle down on top of it. "And some chairs..." They were mismatched, but that was far from her mind at the moment. "And the glasses." The glasses were more like teacups, cute little things, but if it was as powerful as Lucien suggested, perhaps that was good.
"I'll let you do the pouring. I will be right back." And with that she slipped into a side room, shutting the door behind her. Shortly afterwards followed the sounds of mail and plate dropping unceremoniously to the ground, and a sword being hung up on the wall. She emerged perhaps a minute later wearing a simple sleeveless tunic of white linen, probably what she had been wearing under her mail, along with a pair of belted breeches and much softer-looking boots. She quite suddenly stopped and seemed to realize herself. "I'm sorry, I'm acting... very strange. I didn't mean to drag you in here like this, I just..." She turned a little red and awkwardly pushed some golden hairs away from her face. "Ugh. Now I need a drink."
Well, this certainly counted as the single oddest visit he'd ever paid to a lady's rooms, and that included the time he'd found himself in the Lady Fleche's by complete accident. He still wasn't sure what use one woman had for so many pairs of shoes, but then, perhaps he wasn't meant to know. Somewhere, his etiquette instructor, stifling old woman that she was, turned over in her grave. Repeatedly. And was probably shouting at him from beyond it, he thought, flinching when he heard metal hit stone. Was she...? Yes, yes she was. Oh.
Trying not to think about all the potentially horrible rumors that could start in such a fashion, Lucien decided to at least make himself useful and uncork the Scythe. A faint pop, and the air was permeated with the sharp smell of a very strong liquor. He could only imagine the thoughts running through Varric's head when he decided it would be a good idea to gift this to Sophia of all people. Likely, there had been a lot of laughter involved, presumably at somebody's expense. Shaking his head, he started off with a little less than two inches of the stuff in each vessel. Restoppering the deceptively-elegant glass bottle, he set it back down on the table, in enough time to turn around as the door opened again. It took perhaps two more seconds for the situation to get even more irregular, and he was torn between agreeing with the sentiment and trying to make things a bit less... strange.
Given who he was and his concern for her constitution if she tried to down the glass in one go, as usually accompanied such statements, he went for the latter, holding up a hand in the universal gesture for a slight pause. Clearing his throat softly, he went for somewhat-humorous honesty. "I assure you that you would have had to work much harder to drag me anywhere, my friend. Admittedly, I would perhaps be wise to fear for the state of my citizenship application should certain parties become aware of my presence here, but then I assume I would be granted at least the good word of a prominent noblewoman were such a situation to arise." He lowered the hand, only just refraining from using it to gesture to one of the chairs. One did not invite someone to sit in their own home, even if he thought she could use the stillness. Still, he did pull it out, because some habits were impossible to kill.
Making a clear effort to slow herself down, Sophia slid into the chair opposite of Lucien, taking her cup carefully into her hands and lifting it to her mouth. Rather than risk smelling it for long, she simply took a small sip and set the cup down. Almost immediately her face contorted rather comically, and she sputtered for a moment. Her eyes had almost immediately began to water. "That was... I don't even know..." One thing it did do was make her feel rather warm all of a sudden. Perhaps a single small cup of this would be more than enough.
Lucien bit back a chuckle, reaching into a pocket and tugging free a clean handkerchief, which he figured would be of assistance with the eye-watering, and handing it over. "I think 'awful' may be the word you're looking for. Or perhaps 'horrendous.' I do believe Elissa referred to it as 'putrid' at the coronation, but I think it may be more caustic than rotten, myself." He took a sip of his own, feeling the stuff burn all the way down. It was perhaps fortunate that his father favored alcohol in this vein-- he'd learned his rather unfortunate lessons about such liquids after a misadventure in a locked cabinet that a friend of his had made rather short work of.
It took Sophia a moment while she was dabbing her eyes to connect the words 'Elissa' and 'coronation', but when she did, her hands fell to her lap and she blinked at Lucien a few times, dumbfounded. "You've met Elissa Cousland? The Warden Queen? You were at the coronation?" Rather than give the man any time to explain, she simply launched into a series of questions she had always wanted to ask. "What was she like? Did you speak with her? I've always wanted to talk with her. The others were there, too, weren't they? All of her companions? Did you speak to any of them?"
Lucien held his tongue until it seemed that the questions had paused for a moment, half-smiling patiently. It was perhaps understandable for someone to be a bit starstruck by Elissa-- she was that kind of person, to say nothing of the incomparable litany of her deeds. "I've known her for quite a bit of our lives," he said at last. "I'm sure you know how it goes-- the families are allies, and from time to time, the official visits are more friendly than businesslike, and the relations and children get involved." He shrugged, then fell pensively silent, trying to decide which words he wanted. "She's... spirited. Always has been. The maturity was a bit late in coming, if I may say so, but then I certainly understand that. Resolved. Courageous, of course, but judicious. Quite willing to rely on her friends when she needs to."
He had met one or two of the companions, but given the rush of events leading up to the coronation, he couldn't really offer opinions on anyone besides Alistair, and the man was king, so perhaps he ought not.
Sophia had been about to explode in disbelief again when Lucien said he'd known her for much of his life, but instead fell into silence once he continued, paying a rather extreme amount of attention, hanging on his words. Once he was finished she leaned back in her chair. "She... sounds incredible. Ferelden's lucky to have her... as is King Alistair, I imagine." She smiled a bit at the thought. Her story was almost too incredible to believe, and yet none doubted it. Some of the smaller details, maybe, but not her accomplishments as a whole.
"She's been a bit of an inspiration to me, you see. Going from an unmarried noblewoman, dreaming of something larger than that, and ending up becoming the first Grey Warden to kill an Archdemon and live. And then immediately afterwards she becomes Queen of Ferelden by getting to marry the love of her life? I'd think it was strange if a girl didn't want to be just a little bit like her." She wasn't envious of Elissa Cousland's life, as she'd certainly had to endure a great deal of hardship, but the fact that she was able to achieve so much amidst such turmoil and chaos, personal and otherwise, was inspiring.
"I'd like to think if I can be even a quarter as worthy as she, I can keep this city from falling apart, keep my family from falling apart. Next to the problem of uniting a fractured nation against a Blight, my troubles seem suddenly much more bearable." She touched Lucien's hand briefly. "Especially when I have the right people with me." Sophia decided another sip was in order. It didn't go down much easier than the last, but at least she was ready for it this time.
"Sounds like you might need to work on finding some new people," Lucien replied with half a smile. Other than that, though, he took the implied compliment without comment, glancing into his cup before taking another swallow, this one a tad larger than the last. "Though..." he paused, grimacing just faintly at the afterburn or his thoughts, it was hard to tell. "It's not really a matter of worthiness, I think. I do not doubt that Elissa is an extraordinary person, and Ferelden would have been hard-pressed to pick a better woman for the job. Her qualities are quite suited to the tasks she has undertaken, and this coupled with her resolve to see them through produced the results we can all appreciate. It is well that she was there, but she is still a human being-- accomplishments of the like are not beyond the reach of others with the right hearts and the needed circumstances. Certainly not beyond your reach, with time." The assessment was delivered straightforwardly, with no hint of flattery.
Of course, one had to hope that the circumstances needed to make a hero like that would not appear in Kirkwall, but Lucien, despite all evidence to the contrary, was not a foolish man. Chances were good that they would need many such folk before the decade was done.
The sound of a clearing throat was perhaps the only indication he gave that he was slightly less than perfectly-poised at the moment, and he finally allowed himself to actually examine the room he was in. He was used to such places being decorated with numerous house crests and pieces of art with old ancestors and great historical scenes, but there was something of that missing here. He found it a bit curious; perhaps such items were simply not to Sophia's taste. Still, he thought it might not be too intrusive of him to ask, considering. "Well, you know something of my family," he began ruefully-- it was not, after all, the most pleasant knowledge to part with-- "Would you be averse to telling me of yours?"
Someday, Sophia would tell him how frustrated she was by his impenetrable humility and courtesy, but it would not be today. Perhaps she hadn't had enough to drink yet. With that in mind, she took another sip, feeling the burn of the liquid run through her innards. Her family wasn't her favorite subject in the world, since it always brought constant reminders of her duty, and the fact that being in the Viscount's family, as the eldest child no less, made it so difficult to find real friends. There were so few people who would meet her and learn who and what she was, and then want nothing from her. But Lucien was very right; he had opened up to her about his own family, something she believed was rather difficult for him. Of course she would do the same.
"Well, if you know some of Kirkwall's more recent history, you'll know I haven't always been the daughter of the Viscount. I was eleven when my father was appointed. He was... different, back then. I think he had hoped to remarry for a time, but no one captured his heart like my mother did." This was of course the difficult part. Her mother's death in childbirth was the root of all the strife within her family today. It would never be an easy subject to speak of.
"I remember very little of my mother. I'm told I've grown to look just like her. If you'll believe it, my mother wasn't a noblewoman. She actually shared leadership of a mercenary group out of Starkhaven, though money was not their primary focus, as I hear it told. She fought for those that could not fight for themselves. Eventually she traveled to Kirkwall, and met my father. I don't know many of the details... he speaks of her only rarely now."
Notably, she left out Saemus, as well as the man who had shared leadership with Vesenia until arriving in Kirkwall. While Saemus was merely being troublesome and willful at the moment, Dairren Quinn was another matter, one that she didn't fully understand herself. She never had, and that was why it had bothered her so deeply. A simple answer to the question of why would go a long way towards giving her peace of mind.
"Oh, I can believe that quite readily," he replied. He did not presume she had gotten her martial sensibilities from her father, as to his knowledge the Viscount was more diplomat than warrior. Of course, such things weren't really inherited, but the presence of someone with such a talent in one's early life did tend to put things in a certain perspective. "A shame, that stories of her life are not common. It can be quite cathartic, to share memories in such a way. I've always found it a comfort to know that for all she is gone, my mother will not be forgotten, and more than that can be remembered with happiness." He paused. "But I presume too much. People are complex, and there's no one way to handle loss, I suppose."
"And I'm afraid my father's way is not the healthiest," Sophia said sadly. Perhaps she would speak to him about it sometime, though she feared too much talk of the past would only serve to further depress her father. It was a risk Sophia wasn't sure she was willing to take.
"I should let you go," she said, once the last of her cup was drained. "I believe I've kidnapped you for long enough. Thank you for... well, for putting up with me." She smiled despite her minor embarrassment, certain that she was about to hit yet another wall of humility.
She was not wrong. "Your company is never an imposition, Sophia, and you are most welcome to mine, if you find value in it," he replied simply, draining the rest of his cup in one go and setting it down gently on the table. Rising, he bowed shallowly and turned to take his leave.