Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~~Aloisia Kallig~~

“Had an eventful day, have we?”

Lana’s question was kind and lighthearted despite the gravity of the situation. It most certainly had been quite an eventful day for Aloisia Kallig, known to some as Darth Imperius, known to all as the Alliance Commander, and known only to her truly wonderful wife, crouching before her with a smile on her face, as Aloy. Lana had not been able to personally accompany Aloisia to confront the Sith Emperor - where he had showed himself in all of his various incarnations - to put an end to him once and for all. All the same, of course, she was here to pick her beloved off the floor.

Lana Beniko would never allow herself to act so casual if she didn’t already know for certain that the greatest threat the galaxy had ever faced was finally dealt with, so Aloisia would allow herself to joke a bit. “I’ve had worse,” she said airily, waving a stray lock of fiery red hair out of her face. “What’s next on the agenda?” As much as she hated it, Aloisia was a major player in galactic affairs. Though she had once been forced to sit on the Dark Council of the Sith Empire, now that she was in a position to choose her own destiny, she could no longer support the institution that had kept her as a slave for several years, and that still enslaved millions to this day. Alas, the Republic would only settle for her support in the form of the same two-faced manipulations that had driven her away from the Empire in the first place.

Fearing that Lana would ask her to renew her status as a double-agent right away, her wife's smile caught her blessedly off guard. “Honesty, nothing.” Aloisia’s surprise must have shown on her face, as Lana’s burning yellow eyes took on a mischievous glint. “But I’m sure we can find some way to occupy ourselves.” The promise of some private time with her wife immediately brightened Aloisia’s mood as she rose to her feet. Lana filled her in on a few details about what everyone else had been up to after rescuing Satele Shan and her Jedi students from the Sith Emperor's final attempt to cling to life. Thankfully, that threat was gone forever.

Or at the very least, Aloisia hoped that he was gone forever. It was very, very hard to eliminate all doubt from her mind that he could ever truly be killed. For as long as she could remember, Aloisia had been brought up to believe that the Emperor was the supreme being of the universe, and his Empire’s victory over the Republic was only a matter of time, for the Emperor was surely infallible, and he would not forsake his people. Even in the wake of Yavin and the Revanite plot, Aloisia hadn’t been truly aware of the scope of the threat that he posed to every single being in the galaxy, if not beyond.

No, it wasn’t until she had witnessed the death of the planet Ziost from orbit – where she had felt within a span of moments the death every living being on the Sith Empire’s de facto mercantile capital suddenly cease to be – that she had finally accepted the horrible truth that the Emperor did not care about his empire, and that he absolutely had to be stopped. Even with all of her experiences behind her, it was still difficult not to slip into everyday phrases that had been part of everyday life for two and a half decades, give or take. Aloisia hated it, but she still had to stop herself from saying ‘Thank the Emperor’ in relief. She was getting closer, but the wounds that Tenebrae - or Vitiate, or Valkorion, or whatever other names and bodies that he'd assumed over centuries - had inflicted on the Sith Empire were so deep that it had shaken her faith in the entire system, and that had led her to side with the Republic.

But such thoughts could wait. For now, she would focus on her wife. The two of them, both Sith who had left the Empire behind them, both integral players in the Alliance that they had both founded, they deserved some time to themselves. Aloisia leaned over Lana’s shoulder as her wife sat in the pilot’s seat. “What heading should I set?” Lana asked.

Part of her was surprised that Lana even bothered to ask. So much of her life since meeting the lovely and cunning Sith woman had consisted of being bossed around thanks to Lana’s tremendous intellect that it sometimes seemed as if her wife had Aloisia's own life planned out from now up until the end, right down to the smallest detail. The truth was thankfully far different, and they had both come to accept each other as true partners in every sense of the word.

With that in mind, Aloisia gladly gave her instructions. “Take us anywhere, Lana. As long as we’re together. I’d say we’ve earned a vacation. And in case you’re about to protest, I am using my authority as both Alliance Commander and your occasional brat of a wife to give an order.”

Lana chuckled. “You silly fool. It shall be as you say. Coordinates locked in. Now, let’s go and get away from it all. Just the two of us.”

A chill ran through Aloisia’s spine as Lana spun up the hyperdrive, but it was too late. Through the cockpit's transparisteel window, she could see the ship turning away from the course Lana had set, moving on its own before jumping into hyperspace.

“Lana, what’s going on?” Aloisia said, panic filling her voice.

“I don’t know, Aloy. Dammit! Navigational controls aren’t responding. I’m completely locked out! Wait a minute… There’s a message recorded in the ship’s databanks. It’s playing, I can’t stop it.”

Lana had been strong for her so often, so Aloisia would be strong for them both now. Putting a reassuring hand on her wife’s shoulder, she leaned in as a small holo of her Republic contact – a human man named Jonas Balkar – flickered into being.

“Commander. If you’re seeing this message, then I’m so sorry. I know how eager you were to join the fight against the Empire. I read your psyche profile, and I have an idea as to what this fight means to you. You want to liberate everyone you feel has been enslaved by the Sith Emperor, be they literal slaves or merely slavishly obeying precepts he set into place when he formed his Empire. Unfortunately, my superiors are far more paranoid than I had thought. If you’re seeing this message, then at least I was able to let you know why this is happening. I tried to stop it, but in the end, all I could do was to pass along some information. You deserve that much.

“With your move to retake your seat on the Dark Council, combined with your zeal to join the fray openly… Too many narrow-minded bureaucrats who don’t know what it’s like out in the field decided that you were too dangerous, either on the Dark Council as an highly-ranked spy or else as a volatile asset on the front lines. Many of them aren’t entirely sure of your mental wellbeing after five years spent in carbonite, not to mention what we’ve heard about the Sith Emperor sharing space in your mind. Add to that, most of them are die-hard Suresh loyalists who know how to hold a grudge.

“They’ve been waiting for quite a while to make this move, and now that the Emperor is finally and permanently gone, they’ve locked your navicomputer and sent you as far into the Rishi Maze as they can. The only reason they didn’t blow up your ship on the spot was because they feared you might just hop to another body and become the next Valkorion, Vitiate, whatever his name is. To top it all off, the self-destruct has been disabled. If I were you, I’d hope against hope that you find a habitable world at the end of your journey. For what it’s worth, I’m going dark after this to try and make the scum who did this pay. You deserve that much at least.

“I’ll be in touch with Theron Shan. He and I go back a ways. At the very least, he’ll know what happened, and your Alliance will hopefully still be able to do some good, though I sincerely hope he knows where you decided to place your loyalties. If not, then the Republic will get what it deserves for betraying you. And if Theron and your Alliance decide not to help the Republic… Well, I won’t shed any tears.

“I’m running short on time and data, so I’ll say once more that I’m sorry it came to this. I don’t know much about the Force, so I’ll just wish you good luck, Commander. I hope you won’t need it.”

The holo blinked out, leaving the two women with their mouths agape as the blue-white glow of hyperspace engulfed the cockpit window. Lana eventually broke the silence. “While I’ve learned a bit about slicing, I know that I’m not nearly skilled enough to break any encryption that would be on a target of this priority. It’s possible that the locks on the navicomputer will be disabled once we reach our destination. We might be able to make it back if we just-"

“No, Lana.” Aloisia sighed, holding her aching forehead with her right hand. “Just, no. The mission is over. Tene- He is gone for good, or so I desperately hope. And I’ve had my fill of both the Empire and the Republic. They can burn each other to dust for all I care. Hopefully Theron will keep the Alliance in check until he can install someone in power who will actually give a damn about the everyday people of the galaxy.”

Slumping into a chair, Aloisia closed her eyes and took shallow breaths. “I’m just tired, Lana. Tired of betrayal after betrayal. Tired of nothing ever being good enough. There’s always someone else out there with petty demands and twisted schemes that mean nothing in the end, because good people are still fighting a war that should never have been waged in the first place. This entire conflict was never anything more than a means to produce mass death to fuel the Emperor's hunger for more power, but he's gone, so why should anybody care about the reason for the war anymore at all? No, by all means, don't stop to question 'why,' just keep killing each other. I say we leave them to it, and we take our vacation, Lana. It’ll just be more permanent than we thought.”

Lana was out of her chair in an instant, crouching down on the floor, holding Aloisia’s hands in her own. “Aloy, dearest… I’ve known you felt exhausted and disillusioned before, but this… I can’t believe I didn’t see it coming sooner. And I’ve too often been the one to push you down a path without leaving you much choice. No sooner than you were out of carbonite did I expect you to be back to normal. The fact that you were able to keep up as well as you did is remarkable enough.”

Lana looked away and closed her eyes. “And the Alliance. It had been in the works for years before I set out to rescue you from Zakuul, and I suppose we all just expected you to lead us as you had before, because that’s what you did. All the same, I was the one who forced you into the role, because I simply saw no alternative. I was always thinking about what was best for the galaxy, and I fear I left my concerns for you come in a distant second place. I’m so sorry, Aloy.”

Aloisia couldn’t help but chuckle. A blink of her eyes showed her that their shuttle had reverted to real space, made a small change of course, and then jumped back into hyperspace. “Lana, I wouldn’t be alive without you. The carbonite was killing me, and between then and now, you've saved my life more times than I can count. And you knew exactly what kind of person I was when you formed the Alliance. I may have been the one leading the charge on the ground, and I may have been the face of the operation, but you laid the foundations. You knew that the truly important tasks in front of us were ending war and helping people, and when you chose to trust me with such an important responsibility… Lana, I owe you everything.”

The shuttle reverted back to realspace again, and the stars were closer together, she saw, before they jumped back into hyperspace. They must be within the Rishi Maze proper now. “If our former Emperor has taught me anything, it’s that the foundation of a group will determine what it becomes and how healthy it is when it comes to fruition. The Sith Empire and Zakuul are both either dying or dead because they were made first and foremost as tools for a madman. But the Alliance was made to help people, and that’s your doing Lana. It may very well outlive us both, and your legacy will remain to help people caught in the middle of warring factions. But destroying Emperor was my battle, and with it behind me, I just want to stop fighting and maybe try having a life of my own with the woman I love. Is that so wrong a thing to want?”

A few more microjumps had been made over the course of the conversation. “No, dearest. It’s not wrong at all,” Lana said. “And it’s our legacy, not mine. Ours, and Theron’s, and everyone who joined us in the hopes of a better future for the galaxy. And I’ve always said that I’ll follow wherever you lead. Speaking of which…”

The shuttle exited hyperspace, and the ship began to rock. A glance out the window showed that they had emerged close enough to a planet to be ensnared in its gravity field. “Let me check… Dammit! The entire navigation system is locked down, including the landing system and the sublight engines! At least there’s an escape pod. I suggest we not tarry. Follow me!”

It was a small shuttle, but Lana knew it better than Aloisia did, so she let her lover lead the way as they made their way into a rather cramped pod with only two seats. Thankfully, two was all they needed.

“Here, get in and sit down. Don’t fuss and let me strap you in,” Lana said as she went about securing Aloisia’s safety harness. “Good, you’re all set. You’d better keep that stubborn streak. I’m counting on you not to die on me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Aloisia said with a grin. “Now get yourself strapped in, love.”

“Of course. Let me just-“

Lana didn’t manage to finish her sentence as the escape pod sealed and jettisoned before the next word left her lips.

“Lana!” Aloisia said, reaching out with the Force to hold her wife suspended in midair, though the effort strained her as the pod sped up. And they hadn’t even started the re-entry sequence yet.

“Aloy!” Lana yelled, sounding truly panicked for perhaps the first time since they had met all those years ago. “No, I won’t leave you! Not here, not like this!”

“Lana, I’m sorry!” Aloisia sobbed. “I’m still drained after the fight with the Emperor. I- I don’t think I can safely strap you in. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, my love. Just, bring me over to you. If I’m to die, then let me spend my final moments in your arms.”

Aloisia sobbed as she pulled with the Force and held Lana close to her, the two women holding onto each other with their arms and with the Force. “Don’t be silly, dear. This isn’t the end for us. We’ve got a big vacation planned together. And we’re going there together. You’ll see.”

Feeling Lana close her eyes, Aloisia felt a calm come over Lana that she hadn’t expected. “I believe you. I won’t leave you. No matter what happens, I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you. I love you too much, so I won’t ever-“

The sudden jerk of a rapid entry into the planet's atmosphere jerked Lana loose from Aloisia’s grip, and she went flying. Her head hit the side of the escape pod, and Lana Beniko was silent in the Force.

As Aloisia Kallig wept harsh tears of terrible pain for what the galaxy had stolen from her, the sun rose on the Kingdom of Ferelden, and the ongoing war between mages and Templars didn’t allow anyone the opportunity to look up and see something unknown to any of them fall from the sky and crash into a hillside in the Hinterlands. And when it impacted into the earth, the Alliance Commander was knocked into a different sort of consciousness.

The world was too green. That was the first thought that came into Aloisia’s mind, and it occurred to her that she should be thinking of rather more important things. But it was so hard to do when the land, the sky, the floating islands off in the distance, all of it was tinted in a sickly green glow. It reminded her of Satele Shan’s inner mindscape in a way, only she was on Odessen right now, back at the Alliance's headquarters. But where there would normally be throngs of people, only frail wisps of energy were to be seen.

Wandering over to the lift, Aloisia descended into the heart of her base. She needed to consult with her advisors. The War Room was another shade of green, but the familiar faces were there. Normally, Lana would be the one to lead these meetings, but standing in her place was Sana-Rae.

“Welcome, commander,” the Voss mystic said. “I am Truth. You are beset by many anxieties and doubts, but Truth is immutable. At least, it is to you in this ever-changing place. I can help you understand what is and what is not.”

“You want truth, commander?” Bey’wan Aygo spat. “The truth is that you’re a traitor twice over. First you betrayed the Empire, and then you gave up on the Republic. A true patriot never stops fighting for their home!”

“Admiral Aygo?” Aloisia was confused. “I could have sworn you’d left the Alliance.”

“That is not Bey’wan Aygo,” Sana-Rae interjected. “That is Patriotism. To him, I would say that while your allegiance to a faction has shifted, your cause has ever been the same. To protect the people of the galaxy. Is that not patriotic in and of itself?”

“A discussion for another time,” Doctor Oggurobb said. “This place, this dreamscape we find ourselves in! It is truly inspiring! I will make what I can of it, for if I do not, then who will?”

“Oh, you’re always good for a laugh, Creativity,” Hylo Visz said, half snorting as she spoke. “Now, commander, is it? You let ol’ Guile here be your guide, and you’ll be knee deep in credits before you can blink. Or are creds not your thing? Then why don’t we just play a round or two of sabaac for funsies. You win the game if you can figure out how I'm cheating. How does that sound?”

“It doesn’t matter why. You always cheat. The 'how' doesn't matter. You never change,” Theron said, his voice tinged with bitterness and regret.

Hylo snorted again. “Oh, lighten up once in a while, Cynicism. You’ll ruin the commander’s mood. You don’t want Fear or Despair coming to visit, do you? I like her as she is.”

Aloisia shook her head, almost too confused to form a coherent sentence. “Enough! Please, somebody just explain! Why are you all using these strange code-names? Who do I even ask if I want a straight answer?!”

“I would think that would be obvious, dearest.”

Aloisia turned to see the face of her wife. Except, it wasn’t her. Not quite. Not only did she feel entirely different, but she was dressed in her green and black robes and cloak that she had worn years ago and long since discarded. All the same, she had to know. “Lana? Is that you?”

“No. I am Pragmatism. And I can tell you, quite plainly, that if you want a truthful answer, then you should just ask Truth. If it served my purposes, I would be just as likely to hide things or emphasize others to make you decide on the most desirable course of action. But for pure, unadulterated truth, just ask the one who wears the face of who you know as Sana-Rae. Of course, this is the Fade, so any aspect you see is merely a reflection of your own thoughts and emotions. What you glean from Truth will be very different from what anyone else might understand.”

Aloisia looked away from Lana and focused on Sana-Rae. “You’re not my advisors. Not really. You’re manifestations of the Force, each of you embodying a single concept or aspect. Is that right?”

Sana-Rae – no, not Sana-Rae – Truth nodded. “Yes. What you know as the Force, the people of this world know as magic, and we are what their mages would call ‘spirits,’ though we are not the souls of the dead that you associate with the term. Each of us embodies an aspect of mortal thought, and we reflect the thoughts of those who visit us. You expected a council of advisors, and so we were drawn to you. We are advisors, just not of the same sort that you are accustomed to. You are dreaming, and in so doing, your consciousness comes here to the Fade, where spirits call home. When you awaken, you will do so in the same place where you fell asleep, however far you have wandered while in the Fade.”

“I have so many questions,” Aloisia said. “But I fear that I don’t have the time to ask them all.”

“Another time, then,” Truth said. “Seek any of us out, and we will answer you. But be wary of your darker emotions. Fear, despair, mistrust, and more. These will take the shape of others, and they may catch you unawares. Some may seek to enter your body. Such a thing is dangerous for both you and for the spirit, though such negative aspects are known to most mortals as ‘demons.’ The truth is a matter of perception, as Pragmatism explained. My words might seem true to you, but others might see them differently, or else the words I would speak to them would be truth as they understand it, even if your own understanding provides another explanation.”

“I see," Aloisia said, her mind racing. "One last question, before I have to go. Please,” Aloisia begged, her eyes turning briefly to Pragmatism before settling once more on Truth. “Is Lana dead? Will I ever see her again as Lana Beniko, and not as a spirit of this Fade?”

It was Truth that shook her head - its head? - with a gentle smile. “This question cannot be answered with a simple yes or no. The only thing that I can say is that there is no death. But there is not only the Force, either. The universe is far more vast and complicated than to allow for such a simplistic answer.

“And now, it is time for you to wake up, commander.”

“Aloy? Aloy, dear. Can you hear me?”

“I’m still dreaming,” Aloisia realized as she regained some memory of what had happened. “Lana is… Lana died.”

“In a sense, I did. Now open your eyes already, you ridiculous fool.”

And so she did, and Aloisia saw before her the spectral, ghostly image of Lana Beniko, waiting patiently for her to undo her safety harness. “Lana?”

“I told you that I wouldn’t leave you, and I meant it, my love,” Lana’s spirit said, her eyes full of tears that she could not shed.

Not patient enough to undo her harness bit by bit, Aloisia used the Force to rip her bindings to shreds before leaping out of the escape pod. Lana’s specter followed her into a green hillside surrounded by snowy mountains. She turned to look at the ghost of her wife. “How, Lana?”

“I've always said that knowledge, truth, and the Force were closer to my heart than any title could ever be. During my life, I wasn’t just your advisor. Although that took up much of my time, a part of me had often yearned to go back to the days before I entered Darth Arkous’s service, when the knowledge of the Force and its mysteries was what I lived for. I learned years ago that Force ghosts tend to persist because of a strong attachment, be it to a place, an object, or simply a desire not to end. While you were protecting me, I was focusing all my being on my attachment to you, and how I yearned for it not to end. And it worked. I swore I would follow you wherever you led, my love. And I don’t intend to let a silly thing like death stand in the way of that promise.”

Aloisia was beside herself with warmth and love for this wonderful woman who thought that death was but a minor detail to be put aside for another moment together. All the same, she remembered the last moments of the ghosts she had once had bound to her. When she had released them, they had known true freedom in death. Lana knew this, for Aloisia had shared the story with her.

“I know what you’re thinking, my love, and this was my choice. Don’t you dare beat yourself up, Aloy.”

Aloisia laughed. “Far be it from me to ever argue with you, but while I was asleep, I communed with spirits of some sort that claim to be aspects of ‘mortals’ such as us. A supposed aspect of Truth said that the people here know the Force only as ‘magic.’ Such terms imply a superstitious and ignorant populace, and I don’t want to fry them all to a crisp just because they see my wife as a ghost.”

She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind, but it was difficult to think with Lana’s presence half-there and half-elsewhere. “I have an idea, Lana. We could become closer than we would have ever been while alive, and we would always be together without needing to spook the locals with a ghost. All the same, I went down this path once, and I’m not sure if it’s wise to go down it again.”

“What path is that?” Lana asked, her arms crossed, her eyebrows arched. “To bind my death to your life, and your life to my death? To perform the Force-walking ritual with me?”

“How did…” Aloisia stopped herself and chuckled. “I don’t need to ask how you know. You’re my better half. I have no secrets from you. And you’ve always been the clever one. I would only do it with your consent. You have to know I wouldn’t force you.”

“Consider me willing and offering myself to you, forever and always, dearest,” Lana said. “Unfortunately, as I recall, the deed needs to be signed in a ritual of blood. Barbaric, but far be it from me to get in the way of doing things properly.”

Aloisia dug back into the escape pod and fished out a backpack full of survival gear, then pulled out a small knife. “It’s neither unfortunate nor barbaric, Lana. Blood and life are one and the same, and the shedding of blood is an act of both life and death, so it’s entirely fitting. Are you ready?”

“I’m ready, my love. Let us be bound together for eternity.”

Aloisia let the knife cut across her palm, a few drops of blood trickling onto the grass below, and Lana’s sprit surged into Aloisia’s body. She felt stronger than ever before, far more powerful than she had with her four prior ghosts, and even Valkorion’s power was nothing next to this. This power went beyond bargains with indifferent spirits or a monster in a man’s form. Now, they were a whole being. There was no line where Aloisia ended and Lana began. One might be in control of the body, but they were fully united in spirit.

“Incredible,” they said, and it was both of their voices at once that spoke as they took in their body and felt the power surging through it.

As the two lovers remarked at their new bond, they didn’t hear the pair of men spot them from behind. “Did you see that? Blood magic! Silence her! Quickly!”

Aloisia turned her head to see two men in metal armor, their chest plates adorned with a downward facing sword wreathed in flames. One of them drew his own blade, while the other seemed to be calling on the Force himself.

Aloisia would have loved to try and calm them down, but for whatever reason, they had deemed her ‘blood magic’ to be something to be feared and destroyed. She tried to call upon a storm of lightning to drive them back, but her efforts to touch the Force felt stifled. When she tried to listen to its currents, she heard only silence.

“No, this isn’t right. Lana, if you know what’s going on, I’d appreciate your help.”

“I don’t know!” Lana's spirit said as she appeared once more beside Aloisia. “The Force isn’t gone, but somehow, they’re suppressing your access to it. I may be able to still enact some influence, but I’m not sure.”

“We’ll find out later. This ends now,” Aloisia said as she drew her lightsaber. The fire-colored blade ignited first, followed quickly by the cross-guard of the weapon. She sliced through the metal sword coming her way and stabbed its wielder in the gut, then moved quickly to decapitate the man prohibiting her from touching the Force.

And just like that, her world came flowing back to her.

Aloisia disengaged her weapon and moved to interrogate the man with his sword melted in half. Hopefully he’d be easier to question in his wounded condition.

The injured soldier had collapsed to his knees, and he refused to look at Aloisia every time she tried to catch his gaze. Just like the ghosts that she had bound before, Lana did not seem to catch his notice. The poor man could only mutter under his breath, constantly repeating something that might have been a prayer, “Andraste, have mercy. Andraste, have mercy. Andraste, have mercy.”

Aloisia didn’t know who or what Andraste was, but she figured that it was likely some sort of deity, or maybe a leader of some faction or another. Quite frankly, the man sounded like a fanatic, and Aloisia wasn’t sure if she wanted to hear whatever answers he had. All the same, he couldn’t be allowed to spread word of the ‘blood mage’ with such a distinctive weapon, with hair and armor that seemed painted to match the blade. Nature had done for her hair, but the designs of her armor had been commissioned to match the color of the other two.

“I’m sorry, soldier,” Aloisia said as she ignited her lightsaber once more.

The soldier let out a manic cry, as if of glee? “The Blade of Mercy! Maker, take me to your side!”

Aloisia didn’t understand, but she made it swift and painless, removing his head with a single stroke. The deed done and the confrontation over with, Aloisia began moving the bodies into the empty escape pod on her own. Maybe it was the sight of blood, or maybe the people here were superstitious in general, but Aloisia had a feeling that whatever culture this world had was primitive at best, and its technology even less than that, for them to still rely on metal blades that didn’t seem to account for the possibility of energy weapons. Indeed, such weapons indicated a lack of even basic slugthrower guns. The single remaining intact metal sword and its sheathe were added to Aloisia’s belt, and she took some of the soldiers’ supplies and stored them in her backpack to examine later.

“I saw a written language on some of the items you put away,” Lana said from beside her. “It looked foreign, but given time, I’m sure I can decipher it, quite possibly literally. If I approach it as just another form of code, then it shouldn’t take too long. And when I understand the language, so will you, my love. And if you can’t, then at least you’ll have a reliable translator on hand whenever you need her.”

“Thank you, Lana. How did I ever get by without you in my life?”

"You managed quite ably well before we ever met, Darth Imperius of the Dark Council. You attained that seat and everything that came with it without any aid from me, and the Empire would have fallen years ago without your aid on Makeb. Not to mention the small task of personally ridding the galaxy of the Dread Masters.”

“Don’t remind me, Lana. Part of me wonders if I did the right thing in helping the Empire survive as long as I did. The Dread Masters were a threat to everyone, everywhere, so I did what had to be done. As for Makeb… If I hadn’t intervened, the planet would have been destroyed. On the other hand, saving it allowed the Empire to keep limping along and dragging out the war. And even when I was in the process of saving that world… One of my advisors there, a woman named Katha Niar, actually advocated that I use our resources to render the planet almost entirely uninhabitable. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t, but I’m glad you turned her down. And while I have you here, I don't know if you actually need to speak aloud for me to hear you. If possible, you probably shouldn’t, if you don’t want some superstitious locals thinking you’re crazy or possessed.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Aloisia retorted mentally, “they’d be right. On the latter for sure. On the former? Debatable, but I’m leaning towards agreeing on that count.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Lana chided her, her voice and essence now coming from within Aloisia rather than beside her. “You’ve suffered enough, so don’t make me worry even further. If we are to worry, however, is it just my imagination, or does the Force on this world feel different somehow? It’s not the lack of life like on Ziost, or the corruption of Nathema, but something isn’t right here.”

Aloisia held still, closed her eyes, and centered herself before reaching out to the Force. “The Force is strong here, but it feels… It’s hard to describe. It feels like a wound sewn shut very poorly, as if a stitch might come undone at any time without anyone noticing. As for what that means if the wound were to break open entirely, I can’t say. We should look into ways to heal it if at all possible. But that might explain the Fade.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, Lana. When I was unconscious and met those spirits I told you about, they said I was in a place called the Fade, which is supposedly a separate realm where peoples’ minds dwell when they dream. If the Force affects waking minds different from sleeping minds here… We have so much to learn! This is the kind of adventure I’d always wanted to go on as part of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. Ashara and Talos would have loved this. Thankfully, the company I keep isn’t all that terrible herself.”

“Spare me from this onslaught of flattery,” Lana joked.

Aloisia laughed as she prepared to bring the earth down around the escape pod down in an effort to conceal it, but she hesitated. “Lana, if you have any preference for what to do with your body… It’s currently in the escape pod, sharing room with the dismembered bodies of those two soldiers. What would you have me do?”

“It’s strange to even be having this conversation, but I suppose I’d like for you to remove my body from the pod and bury it, if you can. Nothing special, but maybe I can be buried on one of these green hills? It’s a lovely view, at least superficially quite peaceful. I’d like to hope that the Force calms down near here sometime soon, but compared to being buried in an escape pod with two random bodies, it sounds simply wonderful.”

“As you wish, my love.”  So deciding, Aloisia gently levitated Lana’s lifeless body out of the escape pod and into her arms before setting it down on the ground a few feet away. Once the body and her effects – especially her lightsaber – were safely away from the escape pod, Aloisia risked calling on the Force to bring the hillside down upon the pod, burying it under the dirt and rocks.

With that done, Aloisia picked up Lana’s body in her arms, taking care not to use the Force. This was something she had to do on her own. She strode out of the small enclave where the skirmish with the soldiers had taken place and emerged onto a green hill that sloped down and out for at least a few kilometers. A lake could be seen in the distance, and what might be a settlement on one of its shores. It was nature barely touched by industry. Superficially, it reminded Aloisia of Tython.

“Here,” the two women agreed at once, and aloud at that. Using the Force to raise up a mound of grass and dirt, Aloisia gently set it aside as she lowered her wife’s body into the depression, crossing her arms across her chest and smoothing her eyelids shut. They came to a decision together to forgo a cairn of several stones. The mound of dirt was lifted with the Force and replaced on top of Lana’s body, then smoothed down around the edges. Lastly, Aloisia called a slab of rock over to set at the head of the grave. Withdrawing and igniting her lightsaber, she engraved the symbol of the Alliance on the stone. The symbol itself was simple but stark in its symbolism: the left half of the Jedi emblem and the right half of the Sith emblem meshed into one. The actual etching was crude and simple compared to the proper designs with all of their elegance, but the meaning was clear to any who might recognize it.

“Unity and purpose, Lana. This is your legacy. And just in case you need to take control of my body, you’ll need your own weapon. So here I am, strapping your lightsaber to my belt. It’s not a trophy, not ever, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t give me comfort to have something of yours close at hand that I can actually touch. And I won’t ever use it if I can help it. If you should have need of it, however, then it will be here for you.”

Aloisia clipped the lightsaber to her belt and practiced unsheathing the physical sword that she had taken off of the soldier’s body. “Very well. We’ll have to make do with this crude metal blade for now. Hopefully no one will be able to tell if you or I call upon the Force to hold the weight or predict an incoming strike. No flashy displays, no lightsaber, not until we know more or unless circumstance forces our hand. Agreed?”

"Of course," Lana said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And while I do very much appreciate your thoughtfulness with my lightsaber, perhaps if you are to do something similar in the future, you might ask me before you go ahead with it, dearest?”

Aloisia felt her face flush from embarrassment. “You're right, of course. Forgive me, beloved. Getting back to it, however, this may be my body, but we are in this together as equals, Lana. And there may come a time where I am unable to do what needs to be done, and you’ll have to take control. I trust you completely, and I want us to agree on things before we take action. And I promise that I will consult you about any action we both take moving forward. You’re not just a spirit, Lana, and you never will be only that. You’re still my wife, and I love you as much as I ever have, if not more.” Aloisia took a deep breath. “And I know I already apologized for the lightsaber, but let's make a deal all the same. I won’t make any more decisions about your possessions without consulting you, and you won’t make me the leader of a group dedicated to saving everyone in the galaxy without consulting me. Sound fair?” she half-joked.

Aloisia felt Lana’s spirit blush, if such a thing were possible. “Now I remember why I fell in love with you. In any event, yes. We are in agreement. Now, those soldiers you buried had to have come from somewhere. It feels like there might be a settlement somewhere on the shore of that lake, which means some sort of civilization. Those men may have been looking for a fight, so there may be some of these ‘mages’ along the way.”

"And if we find someone willing to speak to us, we can learn more about those soldiers and how they were able to negate our ability to call upon the Force. That’s something we need to learn to counteract as soon as possible.”

“Agreed. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to find civilization, if only to truly live as the scholar I’d always wanted to be.”

“For a given degree of ‘living,’ Lana, dear,” Aloisia thought at her with a smirk.

“Oh, stars. I’ve just opened myself up to a slew of new and awful humor at my expense, haven’t I?”

“Having second thoughts, Lana?”

“None at all, Aloy. Come on, then. Let’s explore this strange new world, shall we?”

Chapter Text

Aloisia silently thanked the Force for the craftsman who had made the saddle she found herself riding in.  If she was at all sore now, she couldn’t imagine how sore she might have felt had she been forced to ride any sort of animal with inferior protection or else bareback. It wasn’t that Aloisia was unaccustomed to riding living mounts, but rarely over such great distances. There had always been speeders or shuttles at the ready on the worlds she had always known.

Alas, this world was remarkably primitive in almost every respect. In the six months since she’d crashed here, Aloisia had come to learn that the southern part of this continent was embroiled in a civil war that had been centuries in the making. The nature of the Force here on this world led to the potential for the spirits of the Fade to inhabit a physical host and wreak untold havoc due to the alien natures of both parties causing untold shock and trauma to each other. Force sensitive beings - so-called 'mages' - were especially vulnerable to this sort of possession, and so they were locked away in prisons for everyone's supposed safety.  These prisons were, in theory, academies of learning, but with no option to ever leave of one's own free will, they were still no more than prisons.

These Circles, as they were called, were themselves the result of a primitive religion that had taken one of its core tenets to a near absolutist extreme. Approximately one thousand years ago, a woman named Andraste had led a rebellion against the Tevinter Imperium to the north, which had been and still was notorious for its abuse of magic and for its slave trade. Andraste’s revolt had been successful, and the Imperium of today was but a shadow of what it had once been.

To prevent similar abuses of magic from oppressing the common folk, the religion that had formed based on Andraste’s teachings – the Chantry – issued the command that ‘magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’ The fear of magic born from Tevinter rule, however, had led to a rather different reality than what was technically preached in the Chant of Light.  Since the Chantry's inception, mages had become who were ruled over by all others, and they were seldom allowed to use their gifts to serve anyone at all.  And finally, tensions had inevitably boiled over.

It had started almost four years prior to Aloisia’s arrival on the planet, but a single act of terrorism had been the spark that had ignited the flames of rebellion among the mages across the entire continent. The majority of them had voted to dissolve their Circles and were now viewed as ‘rebel mages’ by Chantry authorities. And yes, some of these people did indeed seek vengeance for their harsh treatment over the centuries, but those particular individuals only sparked the fury of their former jailers.

On the other side of the conflict were the Templars, a religious order of soldiers dedicated to keeping mages in check, and to hunting down and imprisoning any who lived outside of Chantry supervision. At least, that had been the case before the war. It had been two Templars that had confronted Aloisia just after she’d bound Lana’s spirit to herself, and they had possessed the ability to nullify the Force, or at least had been able to restrict her access to it. How this was possible, Aloisia and Lana yearned to find out, but for now, they had decided to pose as a mercenary swordswoman. Thus it was that she had come to serve as a bodyguard for some of the so-called rebel mages housed in the village of Redcliffe, the settlement having been granted as a safe haven by the king of Ferelden to peaceful practitioners of the arcane. While she watched over them as a would-be mercenary, Aloisia had taken to asking questions to try and learn as much as she could about the Force in this world, whatever the people here might call it. Some of the mages looked at her as if she might be concealing abilities of her own, and Aloisia neither confirmed nor denied any such notions.  More than a few people implied that if she was hiding her own magical talents, then she was far from alone, and it earned her a small amount of sympathy.

The vast majority of the mages sheltering in Redcliffe Village seemed to want nothing more than to live their lives in peace, and with support from King Alistair, Arl Teagan of Redcliffe seemed content to oblige them, if not exactly happy. The surrounding hinterlands were a source of frequent skirmishes between traveling mages and the Templars, who had themselves rebelled against the Chantry to exterminate any and all mages, regardless of any threat they might or might not pose.

Finally, after far too long, Divine Justinia V, leader of the Chantry, had called a Conclave where negotiations for peace would be held. The Conclave would be held in a town called Haven, which was home to a temple that, according to legend, had once held the ashes of Andraste. The woman had not only been an abolitionist and a revolutionary, but she was also worshipped to this day as the prophet and bride of the Chantry's deity, the Maker.

As a simple sell-sword, Aloisia had found herself escorting a contingent of mages through the mountains to Haven, and while she was thankful for the well-crafted saddle that sat her, she would be glad to finally be up and about and able to move or relax in relative freedom. And just maybe she’d be able to find some weak links in the Conclave’s participants whom she could persuade to come around to the cause of the mages. Their plight was especially horrifying to both Aloisia and Lana, who had both been raised in a society where the Force was universally acknowledged and celebrated as a natural gift to those blessed with the ability to wield it.

Alas, the Sith Empire had too many similarities with the hated Tevinter Imperium for them to declare their backgrounds loudly and proudly, so they would have to be more subtle if they wanted to use the Force at all while stranded on this backwater world. If the superstitious religion wasn’t enough, there was the blatant racism against non-humans, which was patently ridiculous considering that so-called elves and dwarves had only the slightest difference in appearance from any other person. Pointed ears and a stout body shape were tiny things compared to glowing red eyes of a Chiss, or the montrals of a Togruta, or the compound eyes of a Voss, not to mention the various skin colors those species could have compared to the plain old human coloration of elves and dwarves.  In all fairness, Aloisia was no biologist, and she had no idea what separated the three races besides outward appearances.

At least they had finally arrived at Haven, and Aloisia could dismount from her horse, which had been very patient with all of her mumbling, grumbling, and shifting about over the course of the journey. She took her mount to the stables and sought out her charges. Soldiers in brown leather armor directed her to the mages’ camp, which was deliberately separate and distant from the Templar camp, or as separate and distant as could be in a town as small as Haven.

Redcliffe, it turned out, was a bit larger than many other settlements in this part of the world. Haven was positively tiny, with only a very few, very small buildings to hold the gathered Conclave attendants, with the Temple of Sacred Ashes set a bit of a distance apart from the town proper. And by the stars, it was cold! High up in the mountains, Aloisia felt the chill quite harshly, even with her well-made armor. Several people had asked if it was of dwarven make, and Aloisia had said 'yes' if only to stop the questioning. Apparently, the designs on her armor resembled dwarven runes. It was something to keep in mind.

The Conclave proper wasn’t set to begin for another two days, so Aloisia decided to scout out the settlement and the surrounding areas to see if there were any noteworthy threats to the mage camp, and also to take note of any particular individuals she might need to be wary of. Lana helped her as she worked, sometimes catching things that Aloisia had missed, but in the end, they came to the conclusion that the biggest risk would come from tempers flaring at just the wrong moment that would be impossible to predict.

The day ended and Aloisia guided herself into a lucid dream, as she had done ever since she’d discovered the nature of the Fade, with all of its wonders and all of its dangers. In order to protect herself and Lana, she had taken a part of the landscape of the Fade and separated it to form an island of sorts. After conjuring memories of the Alliance Headquarters on Odessen and molding the Fade-island in its likeness, she’d managed to establish the dreamscape equivalent of an IFF system that would recognize friendly and neutral spirits while keeping hostile entities away with distance, shields, and the dream equivalent of turbolasers. Or so she hoped, at least.  All of this assumed that dreamed-up turbolasers would have any effect on anything at all.

In the Fade, Aloisia and Lana could appear as they once had, using simulacra of their bodies to interact with the dreamscape and each other without limitations. While their bodies were resting, Aloisia and Lana conjured starfighters that they would use to fly about the Fade and survey the strange otherworld. They rarely found any answers, and after several warnings from various spirits, they made absolutely sure that they would not approach the Black City, an island in the Fade far more distant from anything else.  The Odessen-island facsimile was positively near and dear to the spirits of the Fade compared to the distant gloom of the other island, foreboding and forbidden.

According to the Chantry, the Black City had once been the Golden City, and it had once been the seat of the Maker himself.  But magisters of the Tevinter Imperium had trespassed there, and from their hubris, the Blight had come to the world.  That line of thought led to whole other series of questions that needed answers of their own, but they would have to wait.

A new day was coming, and with it, another step towards what Aloisia hoped was a tentative peace, and maybe even greater freedoms for those gifted with the Force. Aloisia and Lana had their hopes and their expectations, and they were careful not to mix the two.

As the sun passed overhead and began to set once more, Aloisia decided to scout out the Temple of Sacred Ashes again, where the true Conclave would be held tomorrow. The mage camp and the Templar camp were on opposite sides of the temple, and Haven was a bit further away to ensure the safety of the civilian pilgrims and the native townsfolk.

Surprisingly few people were actually guarding the Temple itself.  It gave Aloisia a bad feeling, and she was immediately on edge. A sound and a tremor in the Force put her further on her guard.

And then everything exploded in a flash of green light.

It was strange, rousing from unconsciousness without any memory of dreaming in the Fade. After six months, Aloisia had gotten used to the alien phenomenon, but now she awoke to find herself kneeling in a dark cell with her hands bound by crude manacles, her wrists held apart by a band of steel connecting her restraints together. She sensed four guards surrounding her, and she felt them become more alert as they witnessed her regain her senses.

Far more pressing than her captivity was the feeling in her left hand. It felt like nothing less than a Force ritual of some sort that had been compressed into a blazing fire and then seared into her flesh. What was its purpose? And how in all the stars had it ended up stuck in her hand?

“You’re awake! Thank the Force!” Lana’s voice came into her mind. “I’m afraid I don’t know what happened. Some of our memories seem to be either blocked or else just gone. I don’t know how that happened, but I managed to keep anyone from removing your armor or our lightsabers. Electric shocks. I suggest you tell anyone who asks that they’re enchantments to prevent theft. There was a man here earlier, himself under guard, examining what he called the 'mark' on your hand. He told our captors that he believes it may be the key to solving a problem of theirs, the nature of which I couldn’t determine, but just reach out and feel, Aloy. Something is very, very wrong, my love.”

Aloisia closed her eyes and tried to shut out the pain from the flashing ritual embedded in her hand as she reached out to sense the world around her. The wound in the Force that had been sewn delicately shut had ruptured wide open, and pouring in through the open wound was… “The Fade? The wound had the Fade on the other side? If this world was once healthy, without this wound, then the Fade and the world we walk in while awake should be one and the same. But the wound isn’t healed at all. It’s open and bleeding. This is very bad.”

A feeling of dread passed through Aloisia, and she thought she might vomit. “This thing on my hand… It’s linked to the wound somehow. I don’t know how or to what extent, but I can feel it. Lana, can you-“

She wasn’t able to finish her thought as the cell door opened to admit two women, both of whom radiated authority and willpower in the Force. The four guards surrounding her sheathed their swords, apparently at ease among their superiors. One of them wore heavier armor and had a sword on her hip and a shield on her back. The other was hooded and wore chainmail, with no weapons immediately visible, but a guarded mind that was very evidently the most dangerous thing in the room besides Aloisia herself, even if she was the only one who knew that.

The hooded woman stayed by the door, carefully observing as her more heavily-armored colleague circled around Aloisia in an apparent effort to intimidate her. As she paced behind her, the woman said with a thick accent, “Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now! The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you!"

The woman hadn’t raised her voice, but she hadn’t needed to. Her anger and grief was readily apparent, and Aloisia felt a spike of dread pierce her heart as the implications of her words came crashing down. “The Conclave, all those people… This was the last hope for peace. Without the Divine-“

The armored woman ignored Aloisia’s words and grasped her left wrist. “Explain this,” she hissed as the mark on Aloisia's hand flared to life with green fire.

“If I could explain it, I most certainly would," Aloisia snarled, more than a little upset at her interrogator's impatience. "Unfortunately, I don’t know what this is, or how it got there-“

“You’re lying!” the woman snarled as she grabbed Aloisia by the collar, only to be held back by the hooded woman.

“We need her, Cassandra,” the woman in chainmail said, her accent and voice deceptively soft like poison-lined velvet. Such a sweet voice had likely led many to an early grave, unsuspecting of this woman’s mental fortitude and likely a great deal of concealed weaponry. And now, Aloisia had a name for one of her captors. Now that she could properly see them both, Cassandra and the hooded woman both had an emblem in their armor: an eye wreathed in flames and pierced by a downward-facing sword. It was reminiscent of the Templar’s emblem, but different enough to pique Aloisia’s interest.

Taking a deep breath, Aloisia looked up at her captors. “I’m likely more in the dark here than you are, so ask what questions you have, and I’ll try to help.”

“Do you remember what happened?” the hooded woman asked. “How this began?”

Aloisia respected her getting straight to the point, but she found she had to concentrate hard to try and even remember the slightest details of what had happened. Like Lana said, there were some missing memories, but what she could find… “I remember running. Things were chasing me, and then… I think there was a woman.”

“A woman?”

Things were starting to come back to her, but they were vague and unclear. “She… She reached out to me, but then…” Aloisia sighed. “I’m sorry. My memory doesn’t seem to want to cooperate with me today, and I very much wish that it would.”

Cassandra put a friendly hand on her companion's shoulder. “Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.”

The hooded woman – Leliana – left silently to whatever passed for a forward camp. Forward to, most likely, a number of spirits turned violent due to the shock of entering the material world, if Aloisia was right about the wound that had opened.

Cassandra undid the manacles on her wrists, but then bound her hands back together with simple rope. Aloisia could have escaped from the manacles with but a thought, and the rope would be no more difficult, but she’d play along for the time being. She couldn’t risk the fear of magic working against her from these primitives, and they did happen to outnumber her by quite a lot.

Helping her to her feet, Cassandra led Aloisia up some stairs out of her cell. “It will be quickest to show you, to learn what we are up against.”

Not arguing or resisting, Aloisia followed Cassandra up the stairs and out of the building. It looked like they were in the town of Haven, and out further, towards where the Temple of Sacred Ashes had been…

There was a hole in the sky. A vast maw, glowing green, the Force visibly seeping out of the wound and onto the ground below.

“We call it ‘the Breach,'” Cassandra explained. “It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave.”

A number of things stood out to Aloisia. First was Cassandra’s definition of the Fade as ‘the world of demons.’ She was definitely heavily biased by Chantry doctrine. That, however, was far less important compared to the knowledge that this great hole in the sky was but one of many, and that there would be other holes – rifts, Cassandra called them – forming like offspring from their larger sire. The Fade was everywhere, the Breach was here, but large and growing. So these smaller rifts could be anywhere, and they could be threatening countless innocents, totally unaware of what had happened.

The Breach in the sky flared to life, and so too did the mark on Aloisia’s hand.  She bit down and winced to keep from screaming from the pain, but she still fell to her knees.

Cassandra was there in an instant, sounding far more patient than she had back in the cell. “Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. Your mark may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.”

Wait, the mark was killing her? How did Cassandra know this? The only one who would reliably be able to diagnose this thing was someone who was familiar with it. Mages weren’t allowed to rise as high in the Chantry hierarchy as Cassandra seemed to be. Then again, Lana had mentioned that a man had helped them to diagnose the mark, and had even offered it up as a solution. Who was this man, and how did he know so much about the Force on a world-threatening scale?

The way forward was clear enough. “Well, if this mark can help, and if I have anything to say about it, then let me help as best I can. I came here to protect the mage delegation, and I’ve failed in that job spectacularly. If I can make it up at all to the survivors… Please, let me do what I can.” Of course, Aloisia would do what she could regardless, but best to let Cassandra think she actually had power over her. And in a way, she did have power in the form of answers. Best to exploit that as thoroughly as possible.

“You deny that you are the cause of all of this?” Cassandra asked. “To be frank, you are our only suspect.”

“Well, I have no motive, but I do have some blanks in my memory. Whatever caused the explosion likely erased my memories of the events surrounding it. I can’t prove my guilt or my innocence, but I can help you now, if you’ll let me.” Honestly, how much goodwill did she have to offer before someone took her up on it?

Thankfully, Cassandra decided to help Aloisia to her feet once more and beckon her forward. “Forgive me. It is my job to seek the truth, and here I am questioning your motives instead of accepting an offer of aid. Right now, our focus needs to be on closing the Breach. I will not turn away help where I can find it.”

The two of them marched through the town, the citizens glaring at Aloisia, their anger plain to see even without the Force. “I’m guessing word of my guilt has already spread? The mass murderer who stole the only hope for peace and killed the Divine, am I right?”

“I’m afraid so,” Cassandra said, and to Aloisia’s surprise, she sounded genuine. “Such tragedy requires a villain to blame, and they have cast you in that role. If you are to prove them wrong, then we must give them a reason to hope.” Cassandra stopped and held up a small knife, which she used to cut the ropes binding Aloisia’s hands. “Come. We must test your mark on something smaller than the Breach.”

Aloisia took a moment to rub her wrists reflexively now that the harsh rope was gone. “Lead the way, soldier,” she said, immediately regretting the way she’d slipped back into a tone of command. This woman was not part of her Alliance. Nobody on this planet was her ally or her friend. “My apologies for my tone. I meant that you know the terrain better than I, so please let me follow your lead.”

Cassandra arched an eyebrow, but quickly resumed her march. “You speak as someone accustomed to giving orders. You claim to be a mercenary. Are you the head of a company that I would be familiar with?”

Aloisia couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “I once led men and women in battle, but you would not be familiar with them,” she answered honestly. Before they could travel much further, the Breach pulsed again, and Aloisia fell to her knees once more from the pain.

Cassandra was a hard woman to understand. She came to Aloisia’s side and helped her up yet again, almost compassionately. “The pulses are coming faster now,” she explained. That meant that they had to solve this quickly, or else Aloisia wouldn’t be able to solve anything when the pain in her hand grew to be too strong to tolerate.

Aloisia had her suspicions about her own survival, but there were too many unknowns to be certain if it was because of her link to Lana’s spirit or something else entirely. “How did I survive the blast? If you know, that is,” she asked.

“Our scouts say you... stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was,” Cassandra answered, her voice hushed.

Aloisia understood why Cassandra sounded hesitant to speak of it. If she had stepped out of a rift, then that meant that she had physically stepped out of the Fade. The last time anyone had entered the Fade in the flesh, not just in their dreams, had supposedly been the breach of the Golden City and the invitation of the Blight into the physical world. That was not good company to be compared to.

As the two women crossed over a stone bridge, a glowing green meteor fell from the sky. Or at least, something resembling a meteor fell form the Breach and broke the bridge beneath them. Thankfully the ground below wasn’t too far, so the fall didn’t hurt so much. Whatever flotsam had fallen from the Breach was glowing green on the ground, and a creature that could only be a demon rose up from one such piece.

“Stay behind me,” Cassandra shouted as she drew her sword and shield and moved to charge the creature. Aloisia wanted to help, but didn’t want to reveal her affinity for the Force or her lightsaber. She stood out enough as it was. All the same, if she was to fight, she’d need a weapon.

And with another demon rising out of the ground right in front of her, Aloisia’s options were quickly becoming limited. Looking about, Aloisia saw a broken crate of equipment on the ground, and a number of short swords were among its contents. Diving into a somersault, she grabbed one of the swords by the hilt and let the Force guide her movements. The demon was likely a spirit driven mad at being forced into the material world, so its behavior was erratic and easy to block and parry. It didn’t seem to have vital organs, but it did seem to have a limited amount of willpower to retain a physical form. Once Aloisia had landed enough blows, the demon fell and evaporated into some form of Fade-matter.

“Drop your weapon!” And there was Cassandra, sword pointed at Aloisia, back into her role as captor.

Aloisia rolled her eyes, but slowly lowered herself to the ground and let the sword fall from her hand. “I’m so terribly sorry if my defending myself has upset you. But the last time I checked, you need me in order to prevent the end of the world. Would you like me to allow myself to die, and thus to condemn everyone else you’re trying to protect to death alongside me?”

“Wait,” Cassandra said, followed by a sigh. “You are right. I cannot guarantee your safety, and I cannot expect you to be helpless.” Cassandra picked the sword back up off the ground and handed it to Aloisia, who took it by the hilt. “I should remember that you volunteered your help.”

At the very least, Cassandra was not so proud that she couldn’t admit a mistake when she had made one. That already put her one up on the vast majority of authority figures in both the Empire and the Republic. Cassandra carried herself like a soldier, but her presence with the other woman – Leliana – implied a kind of authority beyond that of a simple infantrywoman.

The two women continued their trek towards the Breach, and more demons barred their way. Most of them were mindless, flailing things, but one breed of enemy drew Aloisia’s attention. A shimmering, translucent green spirit attacked by hurling bolts of green energy at her. Aloisia was able to block the attacks with her blade, as she closed the distance, and its physical appearance reminded her of texts she’d read about the spirits of Dathomirian witches. Of course, this wasn’t Dathomir, but perhaps there was some commonality that could be found when not fighting to the death. The wisp wasn’t entirely physical, so Aloisia focused her mind to add a blade of Force energy along the edge of her metal sword, cleaving away at the spirit more effectively than with steel alone.

After another short hike up some stairs, Aloisia and Cassandra descended into the remains of what must have once been a magnificent stone structure. Ahead of them were two men fighting off attacking spirits, and hanging in the air was a conflux of the energies of the Force. It was in a state of flux, and Aloisia recognized it as a wound, smaller than the Breach, but a similar wound all the same. It had to be a rift that she could possibly close. She very much hoped that she could close it.

But first, she had to clear the area. She noticed one man fighting with a staff, using magic. The other was using a remarkably fast-firing crossbow that made Aloisia nostalgic for something as simple as a blaster, if only to feel a connection to home.

Once the demons had been dispatched, a hand closed on Aloisia’s left wrist. “Quickly! Before more come through!” a man said.

Before she could spare him a thought, before she could spare a thought to the immense power in his hand, she had to think about the energies in her own hand that this man was helping to maneuver, to channel, into the rift. His use of the Force guided Aloisia, and she quickly saw how he was manipulating the ritual seared into her flesh. Not wanting to give away her perceptions just yet, she let him guide her actions rather than taking control herself. Not just yet.

And then, with a snap, the rift was gone. The small wound in the Force of this world was gone, and now that it was, Aloisia took a good look at the man who had guided the ritual. He was bald, and his pointed ears marked him as an elf by this world’s standards. He was quite a bit taller than any elf Aloisia had met to date. He had no tattoos worn by the nomadic Dalish tribes, and his dress was far more practical for combat than any elf born into a human alienage would ever be allowed to wear. And how he felt in the Force…

“What did you do?” Aloisia asked, though what she really wanted to ask was, ‘What in the void are you?’

The man simply smiled, his face a mask of humility. “I did nothing. The credit is yours.”

Whomever this man was – and he was dangerous, that much was certain – he would have to wait until the Breach was dealt with. “So, this mark can close the Breach,” Aloisia speculated.

“Possibly,” the man said. “Whatever magic opened the Breach also placed that mark upon your hand.” He spoke with such certainty that Aloisia was convinced that this plain-looking man was far more familiar with the magic involved than anyone here had any right to be. Whether he was actually responsible… It was too soon to tell.

“I theorized that the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and it seems I was correct.” Oh, Aloisia hated this man's arrogance. He spoke with a care to sound humble, but he seemed far too proud of his knowledge that just happened to be the key to saving the world. As if reading her mind, he continued, “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

“Good to know,” a rougher male voice said from behind Aloisia, and she turned to see the crossbow-wielder, and she noticed that he was a dwarf. “And here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” Now this man, Aloisia liked already. “Varric Tethras,” he introduced himself. “Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” The last was said with a wink at Cassandra, and Aloisia could practically feel the soldier groan in annoyance from behind her.

Smiling, Aloisia walked up to Varric. “Finally, a proper introduction. Nice to meet you, Varric. Since nobody’s yet asked for my name, I'm Aloisia Kallig. And I have to say, that crossbow of yours is a remarkable piece of work. I’ve never seen one like it. It’s quite possibly the most technologically impressive thing I’ve yet seen here in Thedas.”

Varric let out a hearty laugh. “So, our glorious savior has an appreciation for the finer things in life. Oh, I like you. Yes, Bianca truly is special, and she’ll be a remarkable help in the valley, Red.”

“Absolutely not,” Cassandra said, stepping forward. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-“

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?” Varric asked, and he gave a title that Aloisia could apply to Cassandra. “Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.”

“You’re right, Varric,” Aloisia said. “We need all the help we can get. Cassandra, you need to stop turning away help just because you seem not to like where it’s coming from.”

A simple “Ugh” was all that Cassandra was able to reply with.

The suspicious elf chose that moment to introduce himself. “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live.”

Oh, how terribly considerate of you, Aloisia thought silently.

Varric was there to translate the asshole’s intentions. “He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'”

So, he was familiar enough with this magic to keep it from killing her. She didn’t like the man, but she apparently owed him a debt. “You seem to be quite familiar with it,” Aloisia said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.

“Solas is an apostate,” Cassandra said by way of explanation. Apparently, a mage outside of Chantry control was all the explanation the Seeker needed to be convinced that this Solas was here to help with the thing on her hand. A strange sentiment, coming from a Seeker of all people.

“Technically, all mages are now apostates, Cassandra,” Solas countered. Aloisia had to give him that. From just surface impressions, Cassandra was a Chantry loyalist caught up in something bigger than she could understand, Solas was a dangerous mage with hidden motives, and Varric was quite possibly what he appeared to be, but he was still able to hold his own amongst hordes of demons. She couldn’t let her guard down around any of them.

“My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade. Far beyond that of any Circle mage,” Solas added. “I came to offer whatever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin.” So he was a traveler of sorts. Maybe a nomad. Did that mean he simply slept and dreamed in random locations, or did it mean something greater? Aloisia had come to realize that her lucid dreams in the Fade were an anomaly, but she had managed to keep knowledge of her abilities to herself. If Solas had similar abilities, then a nomadic existence would make a good cover story.

But a cover for what? And why? Fear of magic was the norm, so why risk coming out to a hub of Chantry activity? He surely hadn’t come in the wake of the Breach to provide aid. It couldn’t have been that long ago since the initial explosion, so he must have already been close at hand. But why?

Aloisia impressions of the man were that he was a prideful individual, so she would appeal to his ego. “That’s a commendable attitude,” she said with a polite nod.

“Merely a sensible one,” he countered. “Although sense seems to be in short supply these days. Cassandra,” he said, turning to the Seeker, “the magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“The prisoner? A mage?” Cassandra asked, eyes wide.

There was no hiding it now. “The prisoner has a name. And yes, I can use what you call magic. I decided to rely on my skills with a blade rather than risk the fearful violence that tends to follow mages, particularly from Chantry soldiers. Can you blame me for that, Seeker Cassandra?”

Thankfully, Cassandra surprised her again and let out a breath of resignation. “No, I cannot blame you for such fears, Miss Kallig. With your skills with a sword, it would make sense not to draw attention to yourself. But if we are to close the Breach, we will need you to bring all your skills to bear. This crisis is larger than any of us. If the world is to survive, then you must survive. And for you to survive, we cannot afford the luxury of appeasing the narrow-minded.”

Varric chuckled at that. “Never thought I’d see the day, Seeker. Not that I’m not happy, but all the same… Bianca’s excited. Shall we get this show on the road?”

Aloisia smiled despite herself. She was free to use the Force, and she had two allies for the time being. All she had to worry about was the secretive man who knew far too much about the magic that was tearing the world apart. But she could worry about him after the world was out of imminent danger of ending. One thing at a time.

Chapter Text

As Aloisia and her three companions made their way up a hill towards the forward camp, Varric decided to try and make conversation. “So, are you innocent?” he asked.

To be fair, it was a legitimate question. “I don’t remember.”

“That’ll get you every time,” Varric chided with a smile in his voice. “Should’ve spun a story.”

“That’s what you would have done,” Cassandra bit back. Aloisia guessed there was some history between the two of them, likely involving an outlandish tale told by Varric.

“It’s more believable,” the dwarf countered. “And less prone to result in premature execution.”

“Perhaps at the very start,” Aloisia opined. “But later on? When the truth starts coming to light? Better that your story be one that you can stick to regardless of whatever obstacles you face. The truth works surprisingly well like that. Go figure. And some people consider lying to be a form of betrayal. And if you lie to someone who has it out for traitors…”

Aloisia couldn’t help but think of all the people who had betrayed her over the years. Rarely out of spite for her, but everyone had their own personal motives. Zash had wanted to live forever. Nomar Organa had been a righteous hypocrite. Her own quartet of ghosts had wanted to assert control over Aloisia's mind and body. Darth Malgus had wanted a stronger Sith Empire. Senya's love for her son prevented her from bringing him to justice like she had vowed to do. Theron had done what he had needed to do with the Order of Zildrog, though it had cost Aloisia the Eternal Fleet. The Empire and the Republic, both full of self-serving, power-hungry hypocrites, had done so many horrible things in the name of galactic power…

“Hey!”

Aloisia snapped out of her reverie as a voice brought her back down planetside. “You okay in there, Red? You sort of drifted off there.”

That was Varric, and Aloisia decided again that she liked him. “Yes, Varric. Sorry about that. As for spinning stories, let’s just say that if you try to spin a story to hide the truth from me, then I will be the one who will exact an apology. And I might not be as nice about it as Cassandra. Are we clear?”

To his credit, Varric wasn’t smiling. “You’ve been through some tough shit, haven’t you, Red?”

Aloisia allowed herself a small smile. “You could say that. But enough about that. Come on, now. There’s another rift close by. I can feel it.”

“If you’re to use your magic, Aloisia, will you not need a staff?” Cassandra asked.

“In fact, I will not need a staff. What you call magic… I learned it differently than anyone else I’ve met, and I was here to help the mage delegation. What you see may seem strange to you, but try not to lose your tempers, please?”

“What do you call it, if not magic?” Solas asked.

She did not want to give this arrogant man any more answers than she could help. “That is a conversation for another time. Come on, the rift is right there. To arms!”

As demons surged at them, Aloisia kept her metal sword up in her right hand as she let loose a torrent of Force lightning out of her left. Those demons that didn’t collapse form her initial onslaught, she grabbed with the Force and lifted them off the ground, only to pound them back into the earth with as much force as she could muster. Seeing a downed tree near the rift, Aloisia lifted it up with the Force and rammed it into the demons over and over again until they dissipated into nothingness before finally letting the tree fall back into the snow.

With the area clear, Aloisia raised her left hand up at the rift and forced herself to remember how Solas had guided her through the ritual seared into her skin.  It was so simple to do it on her own now that she knew how, and with a snap, another rift was cleared.

“Maker’s balls, Red!” Varric said. “What kind of magic was that?”

Aloisia shrugged. “Nothing special, really. The demons are dead, and the way is clear, right?”

“Indeed,” Cassandra said, though Aloisia could hear the concern in her voice. “The rift is gone!” Cassandra called to whomever was on the other side of the door barring their path, most probably shut to keep the demons out when the rift had appeared. “Open the gate!”

A male soldier answered, “Right away, Lady Cassandra.”

So Cassandra was either a noblewoman or else a soldier of some special rank. Perhaps a Chantry enforcer of some kind? Regardless, her word opened the gates for them, and a properly supplied forward camp awaited them.

Aloisia spotted Leliana up ahead, and she seemed to be arguing with a man in a Chantry habit. So, he wasn’t a priest, given that all Chantry clergy were women, but he might hold some other role. Important enough to be here, but not important enough to have been close to the Divine when the explosion claimed the Conclave.

“Ah, here they come,” the Chantry man said, his voice full of disdain.

“You made it,” Leliana said, the relief in her voice indicating that she might be on Aloisia’s side. “Chancellor Roderick, this is-“

“I know who she is,” Roderick sneered.

“Oh, really?” Aloisia said, sheathing her sword and crossing her arms across her chest. “And who am I?”

“The impertinence!” he spat. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

Aloisia felt Cassandra getting riled up behind her, but Aloisia was done being led about. If she was the only one with the power to save this world, then she would speak for herself. “No one will be taking me anywhere, as I am no criminal. As a matter of fact, I am your only hope. As we fought our way here, risking our lives in the process, we came across two rifts created in the wake of the Breach. Small ones, yes, but we managed to seal them. Or rather, I managed to seal them, and the only way I was able to do so was with this thing seared into my hand. If you have any sort of plan to seal the Breach, then I welcome any help you can provide. But if all you can do is point fingers at forces you don’t understand, then you are worse than useless. You are an actual hindrance to saving this world, and I will not suffer you to stand in my way.

“Leliana, was it? If you would be so kind, please have some of your men escort the Chancellor away from the front lines, for his own safety and protection. I fear a civilian won’t be safe here for much longer, if at all right now.”

Leliana’s eyes went wide, though not as wide as the Chancellor’s. The hooded woman looked to Cassandra, and Aloisia looked at her as well. The seeker gave a small nod of her head, and Aloisia knew she had won. “Harper, Cortland, please escort Chancellor Roderick back to Haven. Make sure he arrives safely and unharmed.”

“Yes, Sister Nightingale,” one of the soldiers said. “Please come with us, Chancellor.”

Roderick tried to protest until the two scouts had each taken him by either arm and began dragging him back towards the safety of the village.

Leliana turned her gaze back on Aloisia. “You are not at all what I expected. But did you speak the truth?”

“She did, Leliana,” Cassandra said. “We fought our way here, closing two rifts in the process. Also, the prisoner-“

Aloisia cleared her throat.

“Also, Miss Kallig is not just a swordswoman, but a mage. I have never seen a mage with such powers, but I also believe that she is our only chance of closing the Breach,” Cassandra said.

“Solas said that he doubts that any mage could have opened the Breach,” Aloisia offered. “In my experience, however, a powerful enough individual can do many things far worse than the Breach provided they are patient enough and ruthless enough to accumulate the needed power. If such a being is responsible for the Breach, then I would feel no shame in being afraid.”

Aloisia took a deep breath. “You have questions for me, but they can wait. Right now, we need to seal the Breach, or at least prevent it from growing. You both know the terrain better than I do. How do recommend that we get close enough to do what needs to be done?”

“A direct charge, a straight line from here to the temple is the fastest route,” Cassandra offered. “We will have support from our soldiers, though there will be resistance from the demons.”

“A safer course would be to have our soldiers charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains,” Leliana proposed.

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that route,” Cassandra countered. “It’s too dangerous.”

It was a simple choice. “We don’t know how many rifts have opened in the Breach’s wake. We can’t sacrifice soldiers just as this campaign is beginning. The lost squad may or may not even be alive.  We can send out a rescue party later.  For now, we charge forward, giving our troops as much support we can. And if this mark of mine truly is the only hope of fixing all of this, then people had best get used to seeing me in the field. You’ll find my methods unorthodox, but if you want to win this war, then it is best that they know who’s leading them from the start.”

“'Best they know who is leading them?'” Leliana echoed. “You presume that mantle already?”

“And why not?” Aloisia countered. “If there were someone else who could solve this problem, then I would answer to them. If it helps, think of me as a vital asset that you need to keep alive. That asset simply has a mind of her own, and she has experience with command. Believe me, I never wanted to find myself in such a position again, but now that I’m here, I’m going to whatever it takes to get the job done. Do you take issue with any of this, Sister Nightingale?" she challenged, using the title that Leliana’s own people had used for her.

Leliana’s eyes narrowed in clear disdain. “You make points that I cannot refute, but you assume this mantle with too much ease for me to be comfortable with. We will do what we can to stem the tide of chaos, and then we will have words at greater length.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Aloisia said. Leliana seemed to be quite a formidable woman, even when faced with so much chaos all around her. “Until then, ready the troops to move out. Cassandra? I believe that’s your field?”

Cassandra sighed. She probably wanted to argue, but was too tired to do so. “Very well, Miss Kallig.”

“Commander Kallig,” Aloisia corrected. “That was my title before I came here. It was a responsibility that I did not take likely. If I’m to assume responsibility for the lives of everyone helping us to get to the Breach, I can’t just be ‘Miss’ anyone. Or do you think your soldiers will risk their lives on the word of a widow with no military rank, or any other sort of title at all?”

Leliana chuckled. “I can’t wait to see the look on Cullen’s face.”

Cassandra let out an exhausted grunt, which almost seemed to be her signature catchphrase so far. “Very well, Commander. We will charge towards the Temple.”

“We’ll advance as quickly as we can,” Aloisia corrected. “We’ll try not to lose anyone if we can help it. We’ll need everyone we can get once we reach the center of it all.”

Cassandra looked around at the soldiers surrounding them, who seemed awestruck at the scene unfolding before them. “You heard the Commander! We move on the Temple! Ready yourselves!”

That got them moving. Weapons were sharpened, armor was secured, formations assembled. Within short order, they were ready to advance. Aloisia turned to Varric and Solas. “How are you two keeping up?”

Solas’s face was inscrutable. “You take the lives of simple infantrymen and hold them in high regard. It’s an admirable quality in a leader.”

“A leader. That’s for damn sure,” Varric said. “I’ve seen my fair share of stuck-up assholes with no common sense, but I’ve almost never seen anyone cut through so much bullshit as fast as you did, Red. You’re kind of scary, you know that?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen my scary face yet, Varric,” Aloisia said with a smile. “If it makes you feel better, you’re quite possibly my favorite person in Thedas so far. I think I want to hear some of your stories when we have a moment.”

“Am I allowed to say no?” Varric asked, and his tone was only half-joking.

“Of course, you are, silly,” Aloisia said gently, hoping to soothe his nerves. “I may be taking charge, but I’m not about to shoot you full of lightning if you don’t obey my every whim. I’m not like…”

“Not like what, Red?” Varric asked.

“I have my own stories to share,” Aloisia said quietly, banishing thoughts of far crueler Sith to the back of her mind for now. “Cassandra! How are we coming along?”

“We are ready, Commander! We move on your signal.”

“Well, Cassandra handed over control faster than I ever thought she would,” Varric said. “She actually does scare me, and you can order her about just like that.”

“I’m a people person, Varric,” Aloisia said with a smile. “All units, forward march! Watch your peripheries and cover your fellows! We’re in this to fight another day. No one is to make a martyr of themselves, do you hear me?!”

An indistinct shout of approval went up from among the troops, and they advanced on the Temple. Demons charged at them. “Steady! Shields up! Swords out.” It would have worked better with spears, or else lightsaber-pikes, but Zakuulan tactics might see them through this particular march.

The battlefield widened as a rift came into sight. “Soldiers, make way! Cassandra, Varric, Solas: you’re with me! Everyone else: cover us while we seal this rift!”

Leading the charge to the rift, Aloisia lifted demons up in the air with the Force and tossed them aside before shocking them with streams of lightning. A soldier to her right had a demon coming up behind him. “Soldier!” she shouted as she lifted up the demon in the air. “Your target!”

The soldier had his orders and stabbed the target held in the air, looking back at Aloisia once it had dissipated into nothing.

“Well done. Keep at it,” she told him with a nod.

“Y-yes, ma’am!” the young man said.

And all of them did keep at it until finally, the rift felt vulnerable to her mark. Raising her left hand, Aloisia channeled the Force through the ritual patterns and snapped the rift shut. As she did so, she couldn’t help but feel a fresh sense of fear. The last time she had used a weapon she didn’t understand, it had been her flagship that had been turned against her fleet, all because she hadn't understood that the 'ship' was actually the body of an Iokathi god-machine. This mark was similarly dangerous and unknown, and Aloisia would have to rectify the latter part of that, at least, before it was too late.

“Sealed, as before,” Solas said with patronizing approval. “You are becoming quite proficient at this.”

“Let’s hope it works on the big one,” Varric said.

“I second that, Varric,” Aloisia agreed.

A blonde man with well-groomed hair and wearing ornamental furs approached them. “Lady Cassandra. You managed to close the rift. Well done.”

Cassandra sighed. “Do not congratulate me, Commander. This was-“

Ah. So this was the Commander of their forces up until now. One of them would need a new title.

“The true commander,” Aloisia said with a polite nod. “I’m going to need a new rank, it seems. Aloisia Kallig, once prisoner, now your only hope for survival. I’ve assumed command of the operation. Status on the approach from here to the temple, Commander?”

“Is that so?” the commander said, crossing his arms. “We’ve lost a lot of people in the time you took to get here.”

“Well, I’m here now. So if you have complaints, then save them for later. We have a job to do. Now, I asked you for a status report on the remaining path to the temple, Commander. This mark on my hand is the only thing we know of that might seal the Breach, so if I’m going to stand a chance, I need to know what’s in my way. Am I clear, soldier?”

The commander simply scowled before answering. “The way to the temple should be clear. Leliana and her scouts have gone on ahead. I’ll gather our remaining forces and hold this position from any threats from the rear.”

Aloisia nodded. “Very good, Commander. As you were. Cassandra, let’s go.” Without waiting, Aloisia strode forward towards the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Some of the architecture was beginning to look somewhat familiar, but it was all in ruins and debris.

“Cassandra,” Aloisia said, her voice soft, “I scouted the Temple before the explosion. Seeing it like this… It’s more real for me now that I can see it up close. Whoever did this will pay, I swear it. For Justinia and the peace she died fighting to bring about.”

“Thank you, Commander.” Cassandra’s voice almost broke. “It is good to hear that you care. Though I fear that this is only the beginning.”

Moving forward, they found a courtyard with an active rift in the center, but it wasn’t spewing forth any demons at the moment. And far above their heads was the Breach itself. “I don’t know if I can affect the Breach from this distance. I’d have to get further up, and I don’t know if I can do that and close the Breach at the same time.”

From behind them, Leliana came forward, a number of scouts in tow. “You’re here! Thank the Maker.”

“Leliana,” Cassandra instructed, “Have your men take up positions around the temple.”

The two women clearly knew each other and their respective strengths better than Aloisia did, so she didn’t interject herself when they went about dividing their forces. Satisfied with Leliana’s movements, Cassandra came back to Aloisia. “This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

“Like I said, I don’t know that I can seal the Breach itself from down here. But this rift in the courtyard here seems linked to it somehow. Solas, you seem to know quite a bit about these rifts. Your thoughts?” She hated turning to the man for help, but better to let him think he was a vital and invaluable part of this lest she tip her hand.

“This rift was the first, and it is the key,” he answered, and Aloisia had to wonder how he knew this rift was the first. He would have had to see it form, or else be familiar with how such rifts acted. And these rifts were hardly common before now. “Seal it,” Solas continued, “And perhaps we seal the Breach.”

“Then let’s find a way down,” Cassandra said to the team as a whole before settling her eyes on Aloisia. “And be careful.”

Nodding her affirmation and respect, Aloisia worked her way around an intact terrace, looking for a path that would lead down into the courtyard without requiring a jump that would prove fatal for someone without the Force.

As they walked, a deep, male voice echoed from the air around them. “Now is the hour of our victory,” it said. “Bring forth the sacrifice.”

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asked.

“At a guess,” Solas answered, “the person who created the Breach.”

Aloisia didn’t trust Solas, but that didn’t mean he was necessarily wrong. The wound in the Force was wide open here, so the Fade was reflecting the material world more clearly. These words might be the events immediately preceding the Breach.

As they rounded a corner, Aloisia couldn’t help but recoil from a feeling in the Force. She saw a glowing red rock, but it wasn’t just a rock. It was a violation and a corruption. It reeked of the Dark Side, almost as if it had manifested itself physically into the world. It felt oddly familiar, but Aloisia couldn’t pinpoint exactly what that familiarity was at the moment.

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker,” Varric was telling Cassandra. And that changed everything. Since she had arrived, Aloisia had come to know that mages relied on lyrium to fuel their magic, but what the people of this world knew as lyrium, the Sith and the Jedi knew as kyber. It wasn’t just a form of stone, but a living manifestation of the Force itself. For it to be corrupted like this…

“Ah! It’s evil,” Varric said. “Whatever you do, don’t touch it.” She’d have to ask Varric about his past experiences with this ‘red’ lyrium, because he was right about it being evil.

The menacing voice echoed once more, “Keep the sacrifice still.”

Then an elderly woman’s voice cried out, “Someone! Help me!”

Cassandra gasped audibly. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

Aloisia tried to keep her thoughts clear as she found a worn away path of rock that descended gently into the courtyard. After a short hop off a ledge, they were right next to the green crystal-like rift.

Now the Fade showed them not only voices, but images depicting the events they had just been hearing. Justinia was suspended in mid-air, her arms extended out at either side. A large, spindly silhouette loomed over her.

“Someone! Help me!” Justinia’s voice cried again.

A visage of Aloisia suddenly approached from the side. “Release her!” she demanded, but it was merely an echo of a past event. So, she had been here. More importantly, she heard a very distinctive snap-hiss that Aloisia knew was her igniting her lightsaber. She would not have done so unless the threat was incredibly dire.

“Blessed Andraste?” Justinia’s voice said, as if calling out in hope.

“We have an intruder,” the enemy of the vision proclaimed as the silhouette pointed a finger at the visage of Aloisia. “Kill her. Now!”

And then the voices went silent.

“You were there!” Cassandra shouted. “And the Divine… She called you… What are we seeing?! Is this vision true?”

“I still don’t remember,” Aloisia said. “But I recognize the sound of my weapon. I wouldn’t use it unless I thought the situation dangerous enough to go all-out, as it were.”

Solas moved to examine the crystal-like rift. “Echoes of what happened here,” he explained. “The Fade bleeds into this place. This rift is not sealed, but it closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

Oh, how Aloisia wanted to show that smug little man up by sealing the rift without following his advice, but she couldn’t let her own pride get the better of her. For better or for worse, she’d need Solas’s expertise going forward, but she would examine every word he said with detailed scrutiny.

“That means demons,” Cassandra called to her soldiers. “Stand ready!” And her men followed orders and took up positions and readied their weapons. If she survived this encounter, Aloisia was going to have to establish a proper chain of command, but for now, she had little choice but to follow Solas’s instruction.

She reached out with the mark, and she felt the threads of the rift. It was like a zipper that had gotten stuck on a notch. It had to be yanked open and then sealed shut. Well, the situation was what it was, so there was no use bitching about it. Aloisia tugged, and the rift opened.

And out of the rift came a monstrosity of a creature. It stood on two legs, it had two arms stretching from its torso, along with a pair of horns on its head.  The entire beast crackled with lightning as it let out a deep, cruel cackle. It seemed like a product of Sith alchemy, but it was merely a powerful demon. All the same, if it wielded lightning itself, then Aloisia’s own lightning might not be enough to harm it. It felt vaguely like a terentatek and other similar creatures that resisted the Force.

All the same, a judicious application of power could wear down most beings, even those resistant to the Force. Aloisia let loose with Force lightning, but to little effect. Seeing the large demon attack with lightning of its own, a change in tactics seemed in order. Aloisia ripped boulders out of the ground and hurled them at the demon, which merely cackled as it formed a protective shell of armor around itself.

Its hide was too thick. This was going nowhere. Aloisia wasn’t about to give up, but she was running out of ideas.

“Aloy, love,” Lana said within her soul. “I’ve done my best not to distract you, but the demon is drawing its strength from the Fade, from its home. Disrupt the connection, and you may weaken it enough to strike.”

“Thank you, beloved. It’s worth a shot.” Aloisia reached her left hand out towards the rift, felt the threads connecting it to the demon, and she pulled as hard as she could to sever the connection, if only temporarily.

Sure enough, the monster had fallen to its knees. But in the time it had taken her to figure out this tactic, soldiers had died. There were bodies all about, and Aloisia knew that it had to end now.

“Everyone! Stand clear!” Aloisia shouted, her voice a command that would brook no disobedience. She strode towards the demon, her pace quickening with each step. Her right hand called her lightsaber from her belt and she leaped, using the Force to propel herself up onto the demon’s back as she ignited her weapon. A blade of fiery orange light erupted from the hilt, followed by a small, flaming cross guard. Without a word, Aloisia drove the blade into the back of the demon’s neck, hoping that it had some sort of anatomy similar to a human or an elf or whatever other things lived on this awful world.

The demon seemed to weaken, and Aloisia leaped off its back as it fell to the ground. Just to be sure, Aloisia threw her lightsaber at the demon like a spear, using the Force to drive her blade into its neck and slice into its body, twisting and tugging at her weapon with the Force until the demon finally gave up and died.  With a gesture, Aloisia summoned her weapon back to her hand, disengaged the blade, and reattached it to her belt.

Finally, the rift itself was vulnerable. Reaching out with her left hand, Aloisia pulled at the increasingly familiar magic. It resisted, tried to pull back, but Aloisia Kallig was no simple mage. She was the heir to Tulak Hord, she was Darth Imperius, she was the slayer of the both the Dread Masters and the god-machines of Iokath, and she was the final end of the Immortal Sith Emperor. This simple rift… This was nothing.

Aloisia tugged at the rift and it snapped shut, sending shockwaves up towards the Breach itself. She’d done it, she could feel it. The Breach might not be closed, but could it maybe stop growing? She turned back to look at Cassandra and Varric, and she smiled a genuine white grin. This wasn’t so bad after all.

That was the last thing Aloisia Kallig thought before she fainted from exhaustion. Lana’s spirit merely chuckled at her beloved’s persistence. They both had a long road ahead of them, but they were hopefully off to a good start.

Chapter Text

As her mind began to wake from its slumber, Aloisia couldn't bring herself to open her eyes just yet. She was still exhausted, and so she clung to the vestiges of sleep like a child trying to force herself back to bed once the sun had risen. All the same, those few moments gave her a chance to reflect on what had just happened. Her last waking memory had been attempting to seal the Breach. At the very least, she’d managed to seal the rift directly beneath it.

The first rift, and the key. That was what Solas had called it. And now Aloisia remembered the elf who seemed to know too much, and she remembered that after closing that last rift, she’d taken precautionary measures once she’d found herself back in the Fade. She remembered seeing the Breach all the way from her Odessen-island, and she had tried her best to move her personal slice of the Fade further away from the Breach, but she’d only found limited success. It was far away enough not to draw the denizens of her island up and into and through the hole in both skies, but it was still far too close for her liking.

With both the Breach and the possibility of intruders on her dreamscape to worry about, Aloisia and Lana had traveled where they safely could within the Fade to search out spirits of sentineling. After both careful negotiations and assertions of will, they had convinced the few sane spirits that they had found to patrol the space around the Odessen-island so as to keep intruders away. Said spirits had appeared to both Aloisia and to Lana as red-robed Imperial Royal Guards, but they had assured the two Sith that this was but a superficial appearance, and they would appear unique to anyone and everyone who would behold them based on their own experiences. Such was the nature of the Fade.

All of that had taken place while Aloisia had been asleep after sealing the rift beneath the Breach, and it felt as if it had been quite a while. Returning her groggy mind to her slowly-awakening body, Aloisia slowly sat up in what turned out to be an actual bed with a real mattress inside of a wooden cabin.  Pulling back the white bedsheets covering her body, she saw that she was clad only in a simple, light brown tunic that covered her whole body, but this one garment was clearly tailor-made with a level of care that spoke to a certain degree of elegant design. A look to one side showed that her armor was hanging on an armor=stand, and that her and Lana’s lightsabers had been placed on top of a simple wooden stool next to her armor.

After falling back down onto her mattress and spending far too long in a vain effort to fall back asleep, Aloisia finally opened her eyes for real and began to properly greet the day, only to notice what must have been a servant girl drop a box of some sort before letting out a frightened gasp. “I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” the poor girl said, clearly terrified. A brief look at her ears told Aloisia that she was an elf, and the lack of tattoos indicated that she was likely not Dalish, and therefore probably from an alienage and used to being mistreated by humans.

“It’s all right,” Aloisia said, nudging a bit with the Force to project an aura of calm and peace. “You did nothing wrong. Please, just try to relax. What’s your name?”

Thankfully, the servant girl allowed herself a few deep breaths, but she still looked afraid. And then she fell to her knees. “I beg your forgiveness and your blessing, my lady. I am but a humble servant. Oh, sorry, that’s wrong! You asked my name. It’s Tianna, my lady.”

This fear was not something that could be overcome with a gentle nudge from the Force. Aloisia hated being treated like she was above everyone, at least from a societal standpoint. If orders had to be given for a campaign, that was one thing. Being put on a pedestal due to being a Lord or a Darth was different. And after defeating Vaylin, the people of Zakuul had insisted on a coronation ceremony for her, though Aloisia never assumed the title of Empress.

All the same, those experiences had taught her how to act in such a situation as this one. “All is well, never you fear," Aloisia said with a regal bearing as she got out of bed and stood up straight. "Rise, Tianna, and tell me what had transpired since the battle at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.”

Slowly and tentatively, the poor elf woman got to her feet. “Th-thank you, my lady. You were brought back here. Back to Haven, that is, after the battle. They say the Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand, my lady. Everyone’s been talking about it for the last three days.”

That answered a few questions. Without looking, Aloisia could still feel the mark etched into her hand, but it wasn’t hurting nearly as much as before. And whatever she had done to that rift had knocked her out of commission for three days of rest. “At least it’s not another five years,” she couldn’t help but mutter to herself.

“My lady?”

Aloisia shook her head and made a point to stand up straighter, inclining her head and folding her hands behind her back. “Nothing, Tianna. And thank you for letting me know about what has happened while I was asleep. What of Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana? Are they alive and well?”

“Y-yes, my lady. They are. Lady Cassandra’s in the chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. She wanted to see you. ‘At once,’ she said.”

The poor girl was far too scared for Aloisia’s taste, but she didn’t think she could help that right now. “You’ve done more than enough, Tianna," she said as gently as she could. "You may resume whatever other duties you have. I’m just going to don my armor and I’ll be on my way to the chantry. And please, be at ease.  You've been very helpful.”

“Y-yes, my lady! As you say,” Tianna said before beating a hasty retreat out of the small cabin.

“I recognize that poor girl, Lana,” Aloisia thought to her wife’s spirit. “Once upon a time, that was me. Before I was taken to Korriban, I lived and died by the whims of my owners. Tianna might not be a slave by law, but she’s a slave to her own fears, and most likely to society’s whims writ large. We’ll need to do something about this.”

“One thing at a time, my love,” Lana answered. “There’s still a literal gaping maw in the sky to deal with. And as we seek to solve this problem, we’ll surely run into others along the way. I wish I could tell you that you can save everyone, but we'd both know that it would be a lie.”

Aloisia did know that, and she hated it. All the same, she did have a job ahead of her. Finally awake and out of bed, she donned her armor and affixed the two lightsabers to her belt. Espying her reflection in a window, Aloisia took in her long, flowing red hair and came to a decision. “When I get the chance, I’m going to cut my hair,” she decided. “You’ll think me silly, Lana, but I want to cut my hair short and style it after you. I just want to be able to look at my reflection and see something from the both of us. I want my face to project the reality, that we are one and the same now.”

“You are silly, beloved, but hardly because of this. I’m certain that if I were in your position, I would want the same. It may be a matter of some small vanity, but such imperfections make us who we are.”

“Hmm. Next time you get on my case, I’ll remind you that my imperfections are part of my charm,” Aloisia thought with a chuckle as she did a final check of her armor. “All right. Time to see what the world is like three days later.”

Opening the door to her cabin, Aloisia felt her breath hitch in her throat as she saw a crowd of people waiting for her. Directly in front of her were two fully-armored men – the insignias on their chest plates marking them as Templars – saluting her with their right hands closed over their hearts, and behind each of those two soldiers were rows of many other men and women, a good number of them saluting in the same fashion, forming an aisle between them stretching out from Aloisia's door.

She realized that this salute from these soldiers wasn’t the sort that expected a reply. This was a display of respect and of awe. It was familiar enough to her past experiences as the Alliance Commander, and so Aloisia made sure to continue to hold herself high and proud as she walked through the parted crowd. As she passed the throngs of people, she caught hushed whispers as she passed them by.

“That’s her! That’s Blessed Andraste, reborn to save us all.”

“It doesn’t work like that! Andraste wouldn’t leave the Maker’s side. They’ve sent their daughter to aid us. We haven’t been abandoned after all.”

“Are you sure? I heard that Andraste will return, and she sent a Herald to bear her Blade against the demons.”

The people weren’t just looking to her for hope, but they were actually deifying her, and that was terrifying. Aloisia had met things that had claimed to be gods, and they had all proven to be nothing more than beings of immense power that had to be stopped before they destroyed everything that she had dedicated herself to protect. Aloisia Kallig would never be a god. She would never allow herself to become such a monster.

All the same, she kept her head raised and inclined as she marched just a bit faster towards the largest building in the town that had to be the chantry. Aloisia had read that houses of worship here in Thedas had also been built to be sturdy so as to serve as refuges in case of attack. It was a testament to the Maker’s mercy, or so the common folk believed, but it was also practical. The most influential people would gather there, and they would be ready to offer protection and consolation to any who needed it.

Pushing open the large double-doors at the entrance to the chantry, Aloisia found the main hall empty, so she closed the doors behind her to keep what little heat there was inside from escaping before making her way down the hall towards a room in the back where she heard raised voices.

“I do not believe that she is guilty,” she head Cassandra say, as if in protest.

“That is not for you to decide,” the Chantry man, Roderick, argued. “Your duty is to serve the Chantry.”

“My duty,” Cassandra rebutted harshly, “is to serve the principles on which the Chantry was founded. As is yours.”

Aloisia’s respect for Cassandra immediately went up, and she chose that moment to open the door and present herself to the seeker as requested. A pair of Templar guards flanked the door as she entered, and in the middle of the room was a table around which Cassandra, Roderick, and Leliana were clearly in the middle of a heated debate.

Roderick immediately scowled and pointed at her. “Chain her!” he ordered the guards. “I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial.”

“Disregard that,” Cassandra said almost casually, if tersely. “And leave us.”

The two soldiers saluted, clenching their right fists over their hearts, and then left the room and closed the door behind them.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” Roderick warned her.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” Cassandra hissed. “I will not ignore it.”

Aloisia decided that now was as good a moment as any to interject herself into this talk. “I did my best to close the Breach. I hear that I managed to stop it from growing, but I’ll need to try again if we’re to close it entirely. As to how we manage that… I am open to suggestions.”

That only seemed to enrage Roderick further. “You are the one responsible for all of this! And you dare presume to offer help?!”

“Have a care, Chancellor,” Cassandra warned. “The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave,” Leliana said, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “Someone Most Holy did not expect. Perhaps they died with the others… Or have allies that yet live.”

Roderick took a step back as the full weight of Leliana’s words hit him. “I,” he said disbelievingly, “am a suspect?!”

“You,” Leliana agreed with a withering glare, “and many others.”

“But not the prisoner!” Roderick exclaimed.

“I heard the voices in the Temple,” Cassandra replied. “The Divine called to her for help.”

“Actually, that’s a matter best left open for debate,” Aloisia said, feeling the need to address the rancor in the room. “From what I heard, the Divine mistook me for someone else. For the sake of the people counting on us, I believe we ought to address that matter before it spirals out of control.”

“Ah, yes. Let us not forget the flagrant heresy that has sprouted in the wake of the Breach,” Roderick said, seeming not to care that the source of his concerns was making this point for him. “For all we know, this is a part of it! Not just the demons, but the madness afflicting the people of Thedas! A herald bearing a divine blade is heretical enough, but the other rumors… That she’s the divine daughter of the Maker and Andraste, or Andraste herself reborn?! Simply outrageous!”

“I might have agreed with you, Chancellor,” Cassandra said, clearly weighing her words carefully. “That is, I might have agreed had I not seen her in battle. Who else but a holy servant of the Maker could wield a sword of pure fire? The Lady Kallig is exactly what we needed when we needed her. More than that, her powers and her weapon mark her as someone destined for greatness.”

Aloisia watched as Roderick took a step back in fear. “Seeker, listen to yourself! You’ve gone mad from whatever plague this wretched woman had brought upon us. Surely, even you must see the ridiculousness of this all, Sister Nightingale?”

Leliana had a wry smile on her lips. “Perhaps we can let the Lady Kallig speak for herself.”

Aloisia couldn’t help but return the smile. “Thank you, Sister Leliana. To answer your fears, Chancellor, I make no claims to divinity. My knowledge of Andraste is probably not as extensive as would be ideal, as I was born a slave far away from here. I was freed only to be put through trials that I had to either pass or else die trying. I chose the former, and in the process I learned the skills I needed to survive. Among those skills was the ability to craft the weapon that would save my life more times than I can count. Please stand back.”

Roderick was already against the wall in fear, but Cassandra and Leliana heeded her words as Aloisia withdrew her lightsaber and ignited the fire-orange blade. “Be careful not to touch it. There is very little this blade cannot cut through. At the very least, it managed to kill a very large and dangerous demon before I closed the rift that it emerged from.”

Looking to each of the three figures, Aloisia tried to assess their intentions. Leliana maintained a mask of neutrality, but she was clearly studying things very carefully. Cassandra was resolved, but also letting a sense of awe come to the surface. As for Roderick…

“Maker have mercy,” he let out, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t believe it, but it really is true. A sword of pure fire and light. But how? How is such a thing possible?”

“Providence,” Cassandra answered, and her voice held none of the hypocrisy or falsity that came with those trying to exploit the weak-minded. No, Cassandra was a true believer. “As I said, the Lady Kallig was exactly what we needed, when we needed it. If that is not enough to be a sign of the Maker’s blessing, then perhaps her sword will suffice.”

“Again,” Aloisia said, “I make no claims to holiness. I won’t deny, however, that this mark on my hand is what seems to be needed to seal the Breach and the rifts formed in its wake. And I am offering my help to solve this problem, of my own free will.”

Disengaging her lightsaber and reattaching it to her belt, Aloisia walked across the room and extended her right hand to Roderick. “We both want to protect this world, and to save the innocents caught up in the wake of this catastrophe. If we divide ourselves now, it is the innocent and the defenseless who will be the ones to suffer. Don’t do anything for me, Chancellor Roderick. Whatever course of action you decide upon, you must do it for the people of Thedas.”

Roderick reached out a tentative, shaking hand, which Aloisia took in a firm grip as she smiled at him in the hopes of assuring him that all would be well. “Now, then,” Aloisia said to Cassandra and Leliana. “We’re finally all on the same page. We have our mission. How do we go about getting it done?”

Cassandra walked over to a small table and brought back a very large book, bound in leather with flimsy pages, and set it down upon the central table. It reminded Aloisia of the oldest tomes in the Sith Academy. “What is that?” she asked.

“This is a writ from Divine Justinia, meant as a contingency in case the Conclave failed,” Cassandra said, and her words carried the weight of authority. “As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn. Our mission is to close the Breach, to find those responsible, and to restore order.” A side glance at Roderick told Aloisia that Cassandra wasn’t yet convinced of his loyalty. “With or without anyone’s approval,” she finished.

All eyes turned to Roderick. “I… This is a lot to take on faith," he said, his voice trembling. "And yet, faith is exactly what we must turn to in times of great hardship, and this is most definitely such a time. I confess, I am not sure what to believe. I want to believe that you are here to help, but what you can do, what you possess… I am afraid to believe what those things imply, as will a great many others, including the Grand Clerics who do not have the benefit of witnessing such things first-hand.”

“Does this mean that you will try to convince them of the need for the Inquisition?” Leliana asked.

“Maker help me, but yes, I will,” Roderick sighed. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do, but this requires a leap of faith, and it is a leap that I must make. For all our sakes, I pray that you will do right by us, Lady Kallig.”

“I will do what I can, Chancellor,” Aloisia said. “As for ‘Lady Kallig,’ that is a title I’ve never had before, and I’m not sure it’s proper. And if I’m to be the one to seal the Breach, I’m likely going to need to be the face of this Inquisition. I have questions about what the ‘Inquisition reborn’ even means, and I’m positive that you will want to know more about me. The people will need to know who is coming to their aid, and that person will need a story behind her that can hold up to scrutiny.”

“Are you saying that your past is not something that would hold up to proper scrutiny in the eyes of the people?” Leliana asked. It was a challenge, but not a hostile one.

“I’m saying that the truth is very complicated,” Aloisia said. “Whatever this Inquisition is, there will be leaders in various fields. Advisors for different strategies. Trade, diplomacy, warcraft, spycraft, any number of different things. My story is convoluted enough that I would prefer only to tell it once, and only to the people who absolutely need to know it. And preferably those who will not cry heresy because it conflicts with their limited experience. I do not mean to belittle you or your beliefs, Chancellor, but I fear that the truth of who I am and where I come from is not something you are ready to hear, if only judging by your initial judgment of me. ‘Take the prisoner to Val Royeaux to face execution,’ was it?”

Roderick didn’t seem to know what to say to that, but thankfully, Leliana broke the silence. “I’m sure the surviving Grand Clerics are waiting for word of what is yet to come, Chancellor Roderick. Please let them know that the Inquisition will be working to restore order to this chaos we find ourselves in.

“And while you do that,” she said, turning her eyes back on Aloisia, “we will learn all there is to know about our ‘savior.’”

It had taken nearly a week, but things were finally starting to come together. Josie had finally arrived in Haven, and a handful of merchants had set up supply routes into both Ferelden and Orlais. Leliana’s network of spies had corroborated what Roderick had to say. Namely, that the surviving Grand Clerics and the more influential Revered Mothers did not believe in the holiness of the woman who had come to be known as the Blade of the Maker. And oh, the debates over that title. She couldn’t be Andraste reborn, nor could she be a divine child of the prophet. Was she a Herald of Andraste’s return? Or was she a symbol of the Maker Himself?

In the end, her blade of fire had been the symbol they’d chosen to rally behind. Not even Andraste was known to have wielded such a powerful weapon, and it would undoubtedly be seen far and wide as the ‘Lady Blade’ made her mark on Thedas. As to who the newly-christened 'Blade of the Maker' actually was, Aloisia Kallig was not wrong that she should tell her story only once, and at the same time to all of those whom she would need to trust.

She was clearly an experienced leader. The way she had taken charge of the chaos at the Breach was more than a little frightening. Leliana had serious doubts as to whether or not she could control this particular asset. But that was not all there was to the situation. Leliana was still the Left Hand of the Divine, fulfilling the last commands of her departed friend to the best of her ability. Forget Divine Justinia for a moment. What would Mother Dorothea have to say to Leliana right now?

The Inquisition’s spymaster wasn’t sure, and she didn’t have the time to reflect and find an answer. After issuing a few curt orders to her agents, Leliana made her way into the chantry and slipped into the makeshift war room in the back of the building. She was the first to arrive, and she started to set up the map of southern Thedas that would allow the Inquisition to plan its operations.

Cullen was the next to arrive. “Commander,” Leliana said with a polite nod. “How are you?”

“Feeling a bit anxious,” he admitted. “Would you believe that? I doubt it. I’m terrified, to be honest. The stories surrounding the Blade already are too much to believe. And I’m still not sure how I feel about dealing with someone who…”

“Someone who assumed your title and ordered your men about?” Leliana said with a small smirk. “I wouldn’t take it personally. I was there when she insisted upon being called ‘Commander.’ She claimed that it was once a title that belonged to her. She didn’t even know who you were at the time. And you can’t say she did poorly with the men and women.”

Cullen sighed. “No, I can’t say that. Maker, Leliana. Part of me knows that she’s our best hope, but another part of me is truly scared of what she might do. And she’s supposedly a mage, too!”

Leliana wondered about that. The Blade had referred to magic as if she knew it by a different name, and the powers that she had displayed were unlike most anything that she had encountered in her many dealings with mages over the years.

Josie came through the door next, a writing pad in hand, the candle lit. “Leliana!” she warmly greeted.

“Josie!” Leliana and Josephine kissed each other on either cheek in the fashion of close friends. “How are you? I hope your trip wasn’t too difficult? I’m sorry to have asked you to come so quickly, but things are hardly normal, as you can see.”

“Nonsense, Leliana! Of course, I am here for you! Truth be told, I would have been at the Conclave had my father not kept the Montilyet heir at home for fear of violence. Praise Andraste for a father’s caution. This tragedy changes everything, and I’ve spent every waking moment since I received your letter trying to figure out the new dynamic and how best to deal with it.”

“Of course you have, Josie. But please, take a moment. Have you met Commander Cullen?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure,” Josephine said as she curtsied to the soldier. “Pray forgive my rudeness. Josephine of House Montilyet of Antiva. I’ve heard many tales of your great deeds, Commander Rutherford.”

“Just Cullen will do,” he said, looking quite nervous. “And you don’t have to beat around the bush. My reputation is hardly as savory as you seem to imply.”

“Not at all,” Josie said, not hesitating for a moment. “While I wouldn’t wish to relive your many trials, from what I have heard, you have endured and persisted throughout a great many hardships and emerged from them in a position of strength to lead the Inquisition’s armies. That is no small feat, Commander. I meant every word.”

Leliana knew that this would be remarkably awkward if allowed to continue, but thankfully, the Maker chose that moment to admit Cassandra and Lady Kallig into the makeshift war room. Cassandra doled out introductions for Aloisia’s benefit, sparing Leliana the discomfort of stepping out of her corner of shadow. The Right Hand of the Divine must have already met Josephine, or at the very least she was familiar with her. That was good. One less thing to worry about.

“Before we get into the details of how the Inquisition will be operating, Aloisia Kallig said, "I believe that it is imperative that the most vital members of this organization know all there is to know about the ‘Blade of the Maker,’ as I seem to have been dubbed. This information is highly sensitive, but also vitally important. Is there anyone in this room who should not be here? And is there anyone not here who should be?”

Leliana fielded the answer. “Everyone is here who needs to be here, and no one else.”

The Blade nodded. “Very well. I will start with what I hope is not a terribly difficult question. What can you tell me of any lands beyond Thedas? Please don’t ask me why I’m asking these questions. I promise that there is a reason for my words.”

An unexpected question, to be sure. The Blade spoke with an accent not too dissimilar to a native of Wycome, but she likely had a reason for asking what she had. “There are lands west of Thedas, or so we believe,” Leliana said. “I don’t believe there are any maps of those lands. South of Thedas is a frozen wasteland. There are islands in the Boeric Ocean north of Tevinter, and while there are rumors of lands across the Amaranthine Ocean to the East, they are just that: rumors. Why do you ask?”

“A number of reasons,” Lady Kallig answered. “First and foremost among them is to determine if the Breach threatens only Thedas or else the entire world beyond this continent. But that has little to do with my origin. Another question, for any of you to answer. What do you know about the sun? Can you define it? Tell me what it is?”

“This is a waste of time!” Cullen said loudly. “The sun is the sun, plain and simple. What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Keep your voice down, Commander,” Kallig hissed. “I was not lying about the sensitivity of this information. Anyone else? Can any of you tell me more about the sun? And I don’t mean what the Chantry teaches, but actual facts that people have been able to observe on their own.”

Leliana had absolutely no idea what the Blade was talking about, and from the look on her face, neither did Cassandra. Sparing a look at Josie, Leliana hoped to signal her to ask something, anything, in her own diplomatic way.

“I’m afraid we don’t seem to have an answer for you beyond what Commander Cullen has already spoken of,” Josephine said tactfully. “If I may be so bold, are there further questions or statements you have to spring from this one that will make things clearer?”

The Blade smiled. “Oh, I like you, Lady Josephine. You are correct. The answer is that the sun is no different from any other star in the sky. However, all of us are close enough to the sun that it appears as a bright ball of fire in the sky. The stars in the night sky are too many to count, but many of them are home to worlds like this one, full of people the likes of which you can’t imagine. From far away, this sun will appear as no more than a speck of light in the night sky like any other star.  But from up close, each of those stars is a sun unto itself.”

While the others were trying to grasp the implications of the nature of the sun and the stars, Leliana felt a chill go up her spine as she felt she felt she understood exactly what the Blade was trying to say. It was outlandish and ridiculous, but she had to confirm what was being implied. “You weren’t born in Thedas, or in any of the lands beyond that you asked about.” It wasn’t a question. “You mean to tell us that you come from another world with another sun. From a star in the sky.”

All eyes in the room turned to Leliana, and they seemed to look at her as if she was mad to suggest such a thing. Truth be told, Leliana herself felt slightly mad for even voicing such a thought aloud. Then the others slowly turned to Lady Kallig, who simply nodded. “Sister Leliana is correct. Unless I’m mistaken, the Chantry likely has a very different explanation for the sun and for the night sky, and their reactions are why I’m asking you to keep your voices down and to keep this information to yourselves. I’m only telling you this because without this simple knowledge, most of my personal history will be that much harder to describe. Your Blade of the Maker needs a story, and it will need to be one that Thedosians are comfortable with. I’m going to give you the whole story, and then I'm going to leave it to you to spin it into something palatable.  I am simply not knowledgeable enough to do so on my own.”

“I don’t believe this!” Cullen hissed, thankfully not raising his voice. “Surely, none of you can actually believe this nonsense?”

“Your belief or lack thereof is irrelevant, Commander Cullen,” the Blade said, her voice that of a mentor dismissing an upstart child. “It will not change the facts. Now that we’ve gotten that great big hurdle out of the way, I suppose I should tell you where my story begins, and then how it led me here. And Lady Josephine? I’m not sure if it would be wise to write certain things down where they can be seen by others rifling through your belongings.”

Josie looked as pale as an Antivan could, but she nodded in agreement all the same. “As you say, Lady Blade.”

Cassandra looked like she was about to have a headache. “The last ‘story’ that I listened to upended too many things I thought to be true. I was made to question things long since established as basic fact. I fear that your story will ask far more of me, Lady Blade.”

“It may at that,” Kallig agreed. “Perhaps you should all sit down. This may take a while.”

Chapter Text

Josephine Montilyet didn’t think of herself as an overly devout woman, but she would definitely call herself an observant Andrastian. She had enough of a realistic perspective to understand that the Chant of Light served at times to explain what could not be explained, but she also knew all too well how often those responsible for spreading the Chant had failed in their duties to protect and to help the people of the world. All the same, the Chant of Light was the strongest unifying thread tying the people of Thedas together, if not the only such thing.

And now, Aloisia Kallig had come and claimed to have literally fallen from the heavens to challenge everything that was known to be true. Despite the outlandishness of her tale, Josephine found herself enraptured by it. The very idea that there were other worlds out there, with unfathomable civilizations stretching across the night sky itself, was staggering. And on a more individual level, there were similarities between Lady Kallig’s story and certain elements of Thedas's own history. Her Sith Empire sounded frightfully akin to the Tevinter Imperium, for example. In spite of the sheer outlandishness of it all, Josephine couldn’t help but get swept up in the Lady Blade’s story. Maker help her, but she couldn’t help but start to believe what she was hearing.

More daunting than the prospect of other worlds in the night sky were the parallels that Josephine couldn’t help but draw between Aloisia Kallig and Andraste herself. Both women had been born into a sort of imperial slavery, and both of them had risen out of bondage to become something far greater. Unlike Andraste, however, Aloisia hadn’t escaped to lead a holy rebellion. She’d been elevated out of slavery to fill her Empire’s ranks, and from there she had risen to a student, and then to a Lord – apparently it was a gender-neutral title among her people – and then to one of the twelve highest ranking lords in her Empire, known as Darths.

Her service to her people had earned her the title ‘Darth Imperius,’ and she was elevated to a body called the ‘Dark Council,’ and that phrasing was more than a little concerning. Aloisia had clarified that the war her people were embroiled in was rooted in a religious conflict dating back thousands of years. The Blade's ancestors were originally exiles from a group of rivals-turned-enemies known as Jedi. Her people had been cast out and insulted as ‘dark’ while the Jedi proclaimed themselves to be ‘servants of the light.’ The Sith had taken the ‘darkness’ cast on them as an epithet and claimed it for themselves.

While Josephine was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of a millennia-long religious conflict stretching across the night sky, Aloisia herself had to clarify and confess that her homeland was full of self-serving betrayers who would sooner raise themselves above others rather than to actually serve the people of their Empire. Having come from a life of slavery, Lady Kallig had a different outlook from her peers on this Dark Council, but that didn’t answer nearly all of Josephine's many curiosities.

“Forgive me, Lady Blade, but I have a question about this Empire that you served, if I may?”

Thankfully, the Blade was patient and ready with a smile. “Go right ahead, Lady Josephine.”

“Oh, please. Just ‘Josephine’ is perfectly fine, my lady. As to your Sith Empire, I confess to some confusion regarding its leadership. You were one of twelve councilors that each oversaw a specific part of its governance, yes?”

“That’s right. Specifically, I was in charge of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. All of the Empire’s efforts to catalog and research various relics and tomes containing the knowledge of our forebears: all of that was my responsibility.”

This particular system of government was in itself an intriguing notion, and that it had been effective across countless worlds, each of them several times the size and population of Thedas… No. No, this was getting away from her primary concern at the moment. “Yes, you were one among eleven other equals. But if you were in fact part of an Empire… Forgive me, but what of your Emperor or Empress? I don’t believe you’ve yet mentioned such a person.”

The Lady Blade’s eyes widened, and her facial muscles twitched. It was almost imperceptible, but Josephine knew that she had hit a sore spot, and she regretted it instantly. “The Emperor of the Sith," Aloisia Kallig said through gritted teeth, "was nothing like the Empress of Orlais or the Kings of Ferelden or Nevarra. The latter three are mortal beings of flesh and blood like you and me. The Sith Empire in its current incarnation has endured for over thirteen centuries. In all that time, there have been only two Emperors and one Empress. Empress Acina took over approximately seven years ago and died five years later in a mad drive to claim a powerful weapon. Since then, Emperor Vowrawn has taken up the reins of the Empire.

“Before Acina, there was only one Sith Emperor. We spoke of him as you would speak of the Maker. ‘Thank the Emperor’ was a common phrase, to use a simple example. He was so far above any of us that he might as well have been a god. The average citizen certainly viewed him as such, and he was truly powerful enough to back up such a claim.

“Seeker Cassandra,” Aloisia said to the Right Hand of the Divine. “Do you recall when Solas said that he doubted that any mage could create the Breach? I have little doubt that the former Sith Emperor could do so with ease. He probably wouldn't have any reason to do so, but that's beside the point. His actual crimes were far worse.”

“Worse than the Breach?” Cullen asked, his voice full of skepticism. “Forgive me, but even after all you’ve told me, I don’t see how such any of what you’ve told us is possible, let alone something worse than the Breach.”

If Josephine was honest with herself, she couldn’t picture anything worse herself. “You mentioned his crimes,” she said as diplomatically as she could. “If he was your ruler, how could anything he did be criminal?”

Aloisia put a hand to her forehead before taking a number of deep breaths, then stood up straighter and looked each of them in the eye. “It would probably help you to understand if you thought of him less as a man and more of a supremely powerful demon, to use terminology you would understand. He did not require a body to exist, though he both wanted and needed bodies to attain his goals. His power was fueled by violent death, and the war he instigated between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic was merely a way for him to feed and gain more power. His own Empire and its people were merely tools to feed his hunger. Tell me, anyone: how many people live in all of Thedas? And I mean all people of all races.”

Josephine wasn’t sure what the point of the question was, but so far everything Aloisia Kallig had said had had some sort of point to it, so she did the math. “I’m unsure entirely, especially since the Qunari are so secretive, and Orzammar has only begun lessening restrictions on outsiders in the past decade under King Bhelen, but I would estimate somewhere between ten and twenty million individuals live in Thedas.”

Aloisia nodded. “That’s good to know. So you know that a thousand thousands is a million. Does Thedas have a word for a thousand millions?”

The scope of the question was beyond anything that Josephine had ever thought to imagine, and she had to stop her mouth from dropping open at the prospect of such a large number. “Not that I am aware of, Lady Blade,” she managed to say, hopefully without looking too foolish.

The Blade simply nodded as she held her hands pressed together in front of her face, seeming to be in thought. “For my people, a thousand millions was equal to one billion, and a thousand billions was one trillion. Of all the inhabited worlds that I have visited, finding one with a total population in the millions - as opposed to the billions - is a rarity. Ziost was one of the most populous worlds in the Sith Empire, and it was home to at least several billion people. The Empire and the Republic each comprised thousands of worlds and trillions of subjects. Ziost wasn’t the capital of the Empire, but it was the foremost economic hub and trading center. 'The Gateway to the Empire,' as it was known to merchants and others seeking to visit the center of the Empire's power.

“What the Emperor did... If you want to be very generous, you could say that he abdicated his throne and then went to Ziost. To be clear, he was not a being of flesh and blood at this point. He was more like a storm of energy with a terrible will. I mentioned before that he found bodies to be useful, yes? He possessed thousands of individual citizens and soldiers on Ziost - all of them simultaneously - and forced them to murder each other to fuel his power. And when he was strong enough, he consumed every last bit of life on Ziost in a matter of seconds. From the tallest tree to the smallest child to the very last scrap of bacteria… Everything was gone. All of it to fuel his power and his hunger for immortality. All that was left were the buildings made of metal and the stone beneath our feet. The soil couldn't be called as such anymore, for it couldn't grow anything ever again. The clouds were more like clumps of ash than anything else, and color itself had been leeched away from everything from the ground, from the surviving buildings, from the sky itself.”

“Maker have mercy,” Cullen whispered, and Josephine could only silently agree at the horror of what the Blade was saying, though she did manage a stray thought to wonder what exactly a ‘bacteria’ was. How could such an evil being even exist, let alone have the power to commit such atrocities? It was quite literally beyond Josephine's ability to imagine.

“In the end, the Sith Empire was just a plaything for him," Aloisia continued. "He was so powerful that he had actually managed to create an entire second empire. He had kept it hidden and secret from both the Sith and from the Republic, at least until he decided to try something new.  He had his second empire invade both sides at once, and this Eternal Empire of his took control over the entire galaxy. But that requires some elaboration." Despite the horror of everything that the Blade was revealing to her, Josephine could not help but be intrigued by the notion of so many new and unimaginably vast cultures as yet unknown to her.

“Shortly before the demise of Ziost, we discovered a plot by a misguided man who thought that if he could revive the Emperor into a physical body, then he would be able to permanently destroy him. He was wrong, but the threat of a fully revitalized Emperor required the Sith and the Jedi - mortal enemies for thousands of years - to come together to try and stop this ritual. We succeeded, but it didn’t matter in the end. The death from the fighting was enough without him needing to take a physical host, and that led to the loss of Ziost. All the same, some few members from both factions united once again in short order to pursue his spirit, along with tracing attacks that we did not yet know were from his second Empire.

“We found both, and by this point, the Emperor had taken a personal interest in me. He offered to share his power with me if I would kneel to him. I refused, and what followed was a flurry of activity that ended with the Emperor’s physical body dead, his spirit invading my mind, and his son declaring full scale war on the rest of the galaxy.”

“You were possessed?!” Cassandra asked, raising her voice as she stood to her feet.

“Please, we agreed to keep our voices down,” Josephine chided gently, but she couldn’t help but agree that this was terrifying development. “I do not believe that the Lady Kallig would be sharing this with us if she was still possessed as she once was.”

“You are right, Josephine. I knew I liked you,” Lady Kallig said with a smile that made Josephine blush despite the seriousness of the Blade's claims. “And the spirit of the Emperor was not like a spirit of the Fade. Fade spirits reflect aspects of mortal existence, and they tend to turn into demons when the shock of the material world overwhelms them. Spirits of the dead such as I have experienced are the ghosts of once-living people. They can be powerful, but in the end, if one ends up in your body, they have only as much power as you allow them, which was how I managed to expel him from my mind in the end.

“Before that time came, however, I was physically frozen. My body was encased in a block of what you might call a type of ice, and I was hung on a wall as a trophy for five years. And then the woman who I would go on to marry came and rescued me. With her help, I formed an Alliance of individuals from the Empire, from the Republic, and from several other smaller factions and independents. Together, we took the fight to Zakuul and emerged victorious. I struck down the Emperor in a duel within my own mind, and at the time, I thought that I had permanently destroyed him. But I would face what remained of him once more, years later, and only now do I dare to hope that he is finally gone forever.

“But without a common foe - with no third faction or malevolent ghost to unite against - both the Empire and the Republic began gearing up for war with each other once again, and I came to make a terrible choice. The Sith Empire that I had given so much to protect had been founded for the sole purpose of feeding the insatiable hunger of a self-proclaimed god, and the society that he had built was engineered towards cruelty and oppression. So I offered my Alliance's support to the Republic, but they would not accept open aid. They forced me to become a double agent, to pretend to aid the people of the Empire. And as I lied to the Empire, I saw too many people that I had never seen in my days on the Dark Council.  Ordinary people who were worried about food in their bellies, rooves over their heads, simple things that anyone can relate to.

“I wanted to free the people of the Empire from the corruption that it had been founded upon, and for all my zeal, the Republic betrayed me. They feared that they couldn’t control me, and they feared that my intentions weren’t genuine. And after my final victory over the Emperor, they sabotaged my ship.  That sabotage led me here, to Thedas, where I seem to be destined to live out the remainder of my days.

“And that is, in a very brief summary, what brought me from the life of a simple slave to become the Blade of the Maker. Make of it what you will.”

More than the star-spanning war between powerful mages, more than the tales of the god-like evil emperor, the last part of Aloisia’s story struck a certain chord with Josephine. It was all too familiar, and it was simultaneously frightening and beautiful. “You tried to liberate a people that you felt were enslaved, and you were betrayed for your efforts. Is that an accurate summation, my lady?”

Cullen glared at her. “Lady Josephine, surely you cannot mean to suggest that she truly is Andraste reborn, can you?”

“I am not suggesting anything, but I am saying that there are parallels,” Josephine said carefully. “Born into slavery, then raised up to freedom to become a leader of men and women. Betrayed by those she turned to for aid, which in the end brought her to us, when we needed her most.” Josephine was not so much surprised that she was making this analogy than she was amazed that she found herself believing in it. But then, if the universe was so much larger than she had ever imagined, with untold worlds surrounding untold stars, then the Maker himself must surely be far larger than anything Josephine had ever imagined. How could she be sure that Aloisia Kallig had not been sent by the Maker to help the people of Thedas?

And with full knowledge of what Lady Kallig claimed to be the truth, how in Andraste’s name were they to create an identity for her that would not immediately spark cries of heresy?

Cassandra had spoken up only once during the Blade’s tale, and Aloisia Kallig's casual dismissal of her possession - by a being she claimed to have once worshipped as a god - gave the Seeker no small amount of pause. The feats of power that this thing called 'emperor' had supposedly done were far beyond terrifying, and the Blade of the Maker had claimed to have defeated such evil. How she had done this was not so clear, and Cassandra did not think she would be satisfied until she had some semblance of a proper explanation. Between Leliana and Ambassador Montilyet, there would be a cover story. But that was not what had Cassandra worried.

“During the assault on the Breach,” she began, “you talked about your powers as ‘what we call magic.’ Whatever you do, you do not call it magic, at the very least. Your emperor, did he use similar powers? How do you define such things? What limits are there on what you can do?” Cassandra had to understand the nature of the powers that the Blade wielded and tested herself against. If the Blade of the Maker could come to Thedas, then what else might follow in her wake?  Assuming that her tale is even remotely true, Cassandra mused.

“I would also be keen to learn more about this,” Cullen said. “Magic is dangerous, and if you’ve learned it differently from how it is taught here, then we need to know how to keep you safe from possession, and we also need to know what other dangers you may have inadvertently brought with you.”

The Blade nodded in what looked like approval. “Important questions, both of them. To put it simply, what you call magic is an effect of an action taken. Or rather, a spell is an action taken. Dammit, how do I put this?”

“Is it truly so difficult to put into words?” Cassandra asked.

“Actually, it is,” Kallig answered, and the seeker felt her cheeks flush with shame. She was presuming too much, rushing for answers instead of properly seeking the truth, just as her instructors had always chided her for. “The thing is, this world is not like any other I have come across. In no other world have I found anything like the Fade. Ever since I arrived, I’ve felt something wrong with this world, and I think I’ve been feeling the Veil. It’s not so much a barrier as it is a wound of some sort. Imagine your flesh has been cut and then sewn back together. That is how the veil feels to me, like a stitched wound keeping two sides apart from each other. But even that isn't quite accurate to what I feel. Both sides are part of the same whole, or I feel that they should be, but they’ve been ripped apart and stitched together so as to make the wound - the Veil - invisible to the naked eye.

“And now we have the Breach, and the wound is split open for all to see. But I’m not convinced the Veil should have ever been there in the first place. It’s so different from anything I've experienced on any other world… I don’t know how to explain it, other than it simply feels wrong in a way I can’t explain.”

“What do you mean when you say ‘you feel’ something about the Fade?” Cassandra asked. “The way you speak, you don’t sound as if you mean something you physically touch.”

“You’re right, Cassandra. I suppose I should explain how things are for me normally," Kallig acquiesced. "Again, this may go against the Chant of Light, but I’m only speaking to how I was taught. What I do is not casting spells, or at least I don't refer to it as such. The things I do result from me calling upon the Force. As to what the Force is… It is the Great Mystery. The Force itself is energy that binds everything in this universe together. Things like size and distance are irrelevant. The Force is everywhere and in everything. Life creates and feeds the Force, helping it to grow. It is the way in which the Force is perceived that caused the schism between the Sith and the Jedi so many millennia ago.

“The Jedi see the Force as an ally that is omnipresent, with a will of its own. They meditate and remain passive, allowing the Force to guide them with less thought for themselves and more for the Force itself. The Sith view the Force as a tool or a weapon, actively harnessing its power to use in many ways. The true nature of the Force is likely a combination of those things, or else somewhere in the middle, or else something else entirely. I prefer to think of it as the Great Mystery, through which all things are possible if one seeks answers in the right way. I may have been born into the Sith Empire, but I don't entirely embrace any one view about the Force.

“I don’t draw on the Fade when I call upon the Force, or at least I don’t think I do. I feel the Force connecting my hand to this goblet,” she said, and Cassandra felt her eyes widen as the goblet in front of the Blade rose into the air. “I feel the Force connect the goblet to your table setting, Seeker, and I tug on the invisible threads to move it towards you.” The goblet floated over to her. “And then I let the connection between the table and the goblet grow until it sets itself down.” And just like that, the goblet came to rest on the table in front of Cassandra.

The reverence in the Blade’s words was troubling, considering how antithetical it seemed to the Chant of Light. “You sound like you worship this ‘Force.’” Cassandra asked gently, hoping she wasn’t saying something that would bring down an unknown wrath upon her.

“Oh, not at all,” Lady Kallig said warmly. “The Force does exist, and I can feel its presence as surely as you can see, hear, and smell the world in front of you. I believe that it holds answers, but I don’t worship it. In truth, I don’t worship anything at all anymore. The last being I worshipped murdered billions before I struck him down for what I hope was the final time. After that, I find it difficult to view gods with anything other than suspicion and fear.”

“Do you realize how this will sound?” Cullen said, his voice starting to rise. “An atheist mage – for lack of a better term – leading an Andrastian Inquisition?”

“I’m sorry, Commander,” the Blade said as she turned to glare at Cullen, and Cassandra could have sworn she felt the room grow cold. “If this Inquisition is going to be solely Andrastian, then I will have no part of it. The Breach threatens every living thing on this world, regardless of how they choose to pray. Lady Cassandra,” Aloisia said as her green eyes refocused on the Seeker. “You said that the Inquisition would close the Breach, find those responsible, and restore order. Did you intend to only help those who pray to the Maker, or did you truly mean to help the whole of the world? Would your Maker want you to forsake those who do not worship him, or is his ego so fragile that he will not deign to recognize his children who see another path?”

“Enough!” Leliana said at last. “Lady Blade, while we appreciate your unique insight, do not blaspheme in front of us and expect us to stand idly by. And Cullen: the Blade may not be Andrastian, but she is right about this. The Breach threatens everyone, and so the Inquisition must stand for everyone.” Cassandra was supremely grateful that Leliana had the courage to call Aloisia Kallig out on her blasphemy. The idea that the Maker could be fallible enough to have an ego that could be bruised was not something that she was willing to think about.

“Leliana is right,” Josephine said. “Despite these terrible circumstances, we are presented with a unique opportunity to bring people together in common cause. The Civil War in Orlais, the conflict between mages and Templars, the Imperium’s war with the Qunari: none of it will matter unless the Breach is dealt with. This is a chance to unite Thedas like never before, if only the right people are brave enough to see past their differences.”

“That is a lot to hope for, Lady Josephine,” Cullen said. “It’s highly optimistic at best, but I doubt its practicality.”

“And on that note,” Aloisia said as she rose to her feet, “I think I’ve shared all that is relevant for the time being. I’d like to meet with each of you individually and also collectively later on to get a feeling for where we stand. In the meantime, I feel it would be best for me to walk around Haven and get to know the people under our command. So long as this Inquisition is small enough, I intend to know every face and every name. If it gets too large for that to be feasible, then we will have new problems. Does anyone have anything else to add before we adjourn for today?”

Cassandra felt that she should say something, anything, but she was at a loss for whatever might need to be said. The stories that the Lady Blade had shared lacked the narrative flair of Varric’s tale of the Champion of Kirkwall, but the genuineness of the story’s telling made it all the more compelling and all the more terrifying.

“Very well, then,” Aloisia Kallig said. “Thank you all for your time and your patience. Do what needs to be done, and do it right, but let’s not take too long. This world isn’t going to save itself without us, after all.”

As their only hope left the room, Cassandra realized how the situation must seem to Lady Kallig. She hadn’t said ‘the world isn’t going to save itself.’ No, not ‘the world.’ She had specified ‘this world.’ One world out of many that she had supposedly visited, out of many that she had probably saved, if her tale was true. Her story threatened the truth of the Chant of Light, but from the eyes of the Blade, the Chant likely seemed to be a quaint thing. In truth, she treated it more like an obstacle than anything else. And Cassandra would be lying if she had thought of the Inquisition as anything but a branch of the Andrastian faith. To have the Blade of the Maker outright forbid such a thing…

If the world’s only hope for sealing the Breach saw the Chant of Light – the entire Andrastian philosophy itself, quite possibly – as an obstruction in her path, then what would the world look like when she was done saving it?

Chapter Text

After the meeting with her new inner circle of advisors, Aloisia decided to take the rest of the day to meet the people of Haven, particularly the ones who were assuming the more vital roles for the foundling Inquisition. The very name of the organization wasn’t exactly one that inspired warm and friendly feelings, but once the foundations were properly laid, Aloisia would be able to actually set out into the world and prove her good intentions to the people. As for the rest of the Inquisition, Aloisia would wait and see.

The quartermaster, a woman named Threnn, seemed to be here in Haven as a punishment for supporting the losing general in a civil war in Ferelden, and Haven was technically within said kingdom's borders. Aloisia thought that it was a petty thing to do, but Ferelden’s loss was the Inquisition’s gain. Threnn was a woman with no time for nonsense of any sort, and in addition to her regular duties, she making an active effort to combat racism against elves within the Inquisition. The quartermaster hadn’t seen Aloisia in the field yet, but she understood the chain of command all the same, and she had expressed a willingness to speak up and to come forward with the Inquisition's needs to Aloisia directly.  Threnn was definitely a good woman for the job.

One of the detriments to living on such a primitive world was the lack of proper medicine, and so the Inqusition was making do with a simple apothecary, a man named Adan. He spoke like a tired old curmudgeon, but he knew what he was doing by all accounts.  He had also helped to keep Aloisia herself alive and stable while she had been recovering from sealing the rift at the base of the Breach. Adan was not one for formalities, but he knew his trade very well, so his bedside manner was of little import. Aloisia had been about to offer to help him to repay the debt she felt she owed for him saving her life, but before she could finish her first sentence, Adan made it perfectly clear that he would let her know if he needed more materials or anything else. He was utterly without guile, and Aloisia told him that so long as he saved lives, he could grumble and complain to his heart’s content. It was really quite refreshing to deal with someone so genuine.

Standing right inside the town's outer gates, a man called Seggrit boasted a booth stocked with weapons, armor, and other assorted basic goods. Unlike most of those coming to join the Inquisition, Seggrit was simply an opportunistic profiteer. He would buy essential goods from the desperate only to sell them back at a mark-up. Aloisia would be glad to be rid of him, but he had the strange sort of luck to be the only merchant at the present with a reliable supply line into proper civilization. Aloisia would have to speak with Josephine and Leliana about arranging alternative supply lines for the pilgrims who came for sanctuary or for reasons of faith. Failing another steady influx of goods, Aloisia could try to implant a suggestion in Seggrit's mind with the Force, but that could easily escalate into a dangerous situation with the Chantry and the faithful populace. Most people feared magic as a whole, but the actual commandment as written in the Chant of Light was meant to forbid exactly such powers as mental suggestion and domination. The former was arguably a lesser evil than the latter, but many would not see the distinction. If she was honest with herself, Aloisia disliked the thin distinction quite well enough that she did not want to have to make such an argument at all.

Just outside of Haven's gates was the smithy, operating under the direction of a man named Harritt. He was a cheerful man who put others at ease around him, and he had a true passion for his craft. He had even offered to teach Aloisia how to craft her own armor, though she had politely declined the offer while leaving open the possibility to return to it sometime later. Harritt had taken a shine to Aloisia's own armor, and he had been the first person she had yet to meet who had realized that the markings on her armor were not actually dwarven runes. She knew enough to appreciate his knowledge of his craft, and Aloisia assured him that the similarities were entirely coincidental and not intended as an affront to dwarven craftsmanship. Thankfully, Harritt proved agreeable enough and saw no need to contest the point. He had expressed a professional curiosity as to the metals in her armor, and Aloisia had playfully deflected him away from that topic, calling it her own trade secret. In truth, she simply wanted to keep the knowledge of cortosis to herself. Best that people didn’t know that there existed a metal that could resist lightsabers. Better still that they didn’t know of extraterrestrial metals at all.

The local pub - it was far too small to be considered a cantina - was run by an upbeat woman named Flissa, and she had been more than a touch nervous when Aloisia had first walked into her establishment. After a moment where Aloisia went out of her way to allow everyone inside to slow down and catch their breath, Flissa had become a delightful conversationalist. Her stories meant almost nothing to Aloisia, unfamiliar as she was with their context, but she took comfort in knowing that the soldiers would have a smiling face and a friendly voice to meet them when they came here to unwind. In that way, Flissa provided an invaluable service to the Inquisition.

Lastly, tucked inside a corner of Josephine's workspace within the chantry itself, a woman named Minaeve toiled in relative obscurity. And yet, it was Minaeve who had provided Aloisia with a wealth of answers that she hadn’t known to look for. She had been an apprentice mage who actively disliked using magic, preferring to engage in quiet study. Additionally, Minaeve provided a new perspective on the Templars apart from everything else that Aloisia had heard of up until now. So far, the only Templars that Aloisia had met were all about killing mages and little else, but Minaeve spoke of the Templar Order as the Chantry had supposedly meant for them to be: protectors of mages from themselves and from the world around them.

Minaeve had also revealed to Aloisia the most horrible thing that she had yet to encounter on this wretched world: the Rite of Tranquility. Before the rebellion, when a Circle mage was deemed too dangerous or too rebellious to be fully embraced by their community, they were made Tranquil. Such a fate was nothing less than the literal severing of a being from their connection to the Force, leaving the victim without any capacity for will or emotion. But the Tranquil were not put to waste, as they made for tireless workers, following orders without question. If that wasn't horrific enough, tranquility was not always used as the absolute last resort that it was meant to be. Once Aloisia had thought to ask, she had begun to hear of far too many Templars having abused the Rite of Tranquility to silence dissidents. Even worse, Minaeve spoke quietly of a few sick individuals who would ‘use’ Tranquil to satisfy their carnal appetites when their victims had no will to even consider resisting.

The practice was entirely abhorrent and abominable, and Aloisia vowed to end it permanently, even if she had to manufacture an opportunity to do so. In addition to what she had taught Aloisia about the fate of the Tranquil, Minaeve had also revealed her own studies into biology, studying wildlife and demons alike from their remains in the hope of finding new ways to defend against them in battle. Aside from her research and the knowledge that she provided, Minaeve stood out to Aloisia as the only elf – the only non-human, period – who was performing a vital function of any sort for the Inquisition, and she was clearly doing it out of sight of everybody else save for Josephine. Thankfully for everyone, Ambassador Montilyet was possessed of a level of kindness and tolerance that was a precious rarity in this primitive world.  Even among her own people, Aloisia had to admit, Josephine's good nature set a high standard worth striving for.

Besides Minaeve's position, it had not escaped Aloisia's notice that most of the servants throughout Haven were elves.  And as far as she could tell, the armed forces contained no elven soldiers in any capacity at all. She would need to have a talk with Commander Cullen about correcting this mistake. But before that inevitably lengthy discussion, Aloisia had to give her thanks to the two men who had fought at her side against the demons. She’d talk to Solas first, if only to rip off that bandage and put him in the back of her mind, though she would definitely not be forgetting him. He clearly knew more about the magic behind the Breach than he had let on so far, but he had nevertheless helped her to close the rifts. He could merely be hiding the extent of his knowledge to avoid Chantry persecution, but Aloisia suspected there was more to the man than that.

The bald elf with the proud posture stood out in the open, wearing very light clothing for the cold weather, as if the climate didn't even affect him. Then again, Aloisia didn’t know enough about this world or its people to know how much the cold affected anyone, be they elves or anyone else.

He nodded in greeting as she approached. “The Blade of the Maker. A blessed hero sent to save us all,” he said, the words more than half-mocking to Aloisia’s ears.

“Indeed, it’s true,” she jokingly agreed. “For hearsay always spouts the truth of the Maker’s will. It’s indisputable fact.”

“The truth is often what people make of it,” Solas replied, his voice turning serious. “Joking aside, posturing is necessary.”

Aloisia knew that Solas spoke the truth about necessary posturing, but she also wondered how a wandering apostate would come by such wisdom. She quietly walked to join him as he overlooked the town.

“I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade," he volunteered, "sleeping in ruins to watch spirits reenact battles both famous and forgotten. Every great war has its heroes,” Solas said as he turned to face Aloisia once more. “I’m just curious as to what kind you’ll be.”

Aloisia frowned as she recalled her many battles, when the lines between right and wrong hadn’t always been so cut and dry. “If I am to be a hero, then who will see me as such? Everyone sees those in power differently. Ask any given person about any given subject, and you'll get an entirely different answer. Am I a hero or a villain? A savior or a conqueror? And even if people today see our efforts positively, who is to say that history won’t vilify us?”

“You are wise to realize that even something as pure as the ideal of heroism is hardly as simple as it would seem." Solas said. “If nothing else, the Fade will remember all sides and all viewpoints. The battlefields that I have visited in the Fade have shown me innumerable opinions from the lowest of foot soldiers to the mightiest of kings. You are right that everyone has their own perspectives, and the spirits of the Fade remember them all.”

Aloisia couldn’t help but smile at that. “I suppose that’s something to consider. You did say that you were ‘curious’ as to what kind of hero I might be. If you don’t mind me making an observation, but curiosity lends one to a certain level of observation. A curious mind will see things that others might miss. You may be curious as to what kind of hero I might turn out to be, but what do you see in me right now, I wonder?”

Solas didn’t hesitate to reply. “I don’t know you well enough yet to say for sure, but based on the reactions of others, I suspect that those under your command will sing songs of your accomplishments, and that spirits will remember these songs and keep them alive in the Fade. Already, you inspire so many people merely by wielding a particular weapon with particular skill.”

Aloisia couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Solas was obviously not Andrastian to have such a reaction to her lightsaber. “And what do you make of my particular weapon? Have your travels in the Fade ever led you something similar?”

“Actually, yes,” Solas said. Aloisia was careful to hide her surprise, simply raising a quizzical eyebrow. “The ancient elves once counted many arcane warriors, wielding blades of fade energy against unimaginable foes. The practice has been watered down and adopted by some human mages in the present day, although refer to themselves differently. The only real difference I can see is that while an arcane warrior uses magic to conjure a blade of energy very briefly – often with a staff as a focus – you use a simple rod to conjure a more permanent blade that happens to be the color of fire.”

Aloisia shrugged, filing away the information for late use. Solas called it 'the only real difference' as if it was something so small, but Aloisia suspected the true divergence was far greater. “An interesting comparison. About the arcane warriors you mentioned, you said they used magic to conjure their blades. In my personal experience, ‘magic’ is merely a word used to define the undefinable. Perhaps it is different for you. Certainly, the Chantry would rather remain in fear and ignorance than try to understand anything outside of their own scope of knowledge. If they had been more open-minded longer ago, then maybe this Conclave would not have been needed, and all those who attended would still be alive.”

“Perhaps that will be your legacy as a great hero,” Solas offered. “The woman who opened the minds of a generation, dispelling the cloud of ignorance. It is a worthy goal.” He paused for a moment. “I will stay and offer what help I can, at least until the Breach is closed.”

“Oh? That was in doubt before now?” Aloisia asked.

“I am an apostate surrounded by Chantry forces in the middle of a mage rebellion,” he countered pointedly. And yes, that was definitely true. “Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

“Cassandra will continue to accommodate you, as will the rest of the Inquisition, so long as I am in charge," Aloisia vowed. "The sky is torn open. Petty fears have no place here, and any who allow such things to control them will either adjust their attitudes or find themselves unwelcome."

“A bold and worthy goal, but quite possibly a dangerous one. You risk alienating many potential allies by embracing magic so willingly," Solas said, though his tone was guarded and neutral.

“I take it your travels into the Fade have also educated you about the courtly intrigues where alliances are formed and empires founded and toppled?” Aloisia couldn't help but prod. She could tell that he knew of such things, but whether it was from the Fade was another question entirely.

“That, and so much more,” Solas answered, proving Aloisia’s point. “Should you require any advice about the Fade, please seek me out.”

“I will. Thank you, Solas.” Not seeing a need to irritate the man, Aloisia left him to whatever his curious mind would be thinking about next. He was quite possibly wondering about her origins, and his curiosity could lead him towards inconvenient truths. He spoke with the kind of cunning that was more appropriate for a member of the Dark Council than for a wandering hermit. She’d need to speak alone with Leliana about Solas and her concerns about him.

It wasn't just Solas or the fear of magic or any one thing, but so much about this world was bothersome, and that was after taking into account its primitive nature. Aloisia had been out in the wilderness before, but almost never without reliable access to backup or else modern technology in some form. No, it had nothing to do with technology, she realized. This world lacked any sort of proper civilization. The different races fought each other as if they were so incredibly different from one another. Force forbid they should ever come face-to-face a twi’lek or a nautolan or a hutt.

And the widespread superstitions of this world were simply ridiculous. The people here had yet to grasp the most basic truths that Aloisia had taken for granted even as a little girl born into slavery on Dromund Kaas. Even discounting the Breach and the Veil and all of the tidal waves in the Force that they caused, this world was simply wrong on a level that Aloisia had never felt before. Not on Oricon, not on Yavin IV, and not even on the blighted, void-touched desolation of Nathema. All of those worlds had made some terrible sense despite their horrors. This one primitive backwater, on the other hand, was simply and utterly disgusting, even if some few of its inhabitants held a small measure of promise.

“Lana, I’ve been thinking ever since we landed here… If I had taken the Eternal Throne, if I had embraced my role as a leader – a ruler – then I could have stopped the war between the Sith and the Jedi. I could have enforced a vision of unity and peace and laid the ground work for it to last for generations after I died. I can’t make the same mistake here. I will save this world from its own barbarism. I will close the Breach and save them from that threat. And along the way, I will do everything in my power to save this world from itself.”

“That will be a difficult path, my love,” Lana thought back, sounding both caring and cautious. “But I cannot say that I disagree with your assessment. You can be sure that I will help you however I can.”

“I know. And thank you, beloved.” Aloisia took a breath and exhaled. There were still more people to meet and to speak with. Varric Tethras had been the first person to give Aloisia the honor of knowing his name after the Breach had opened, so she supposed she would visit him next. Maybe he could give her some small manner of hope that the people of Thedas were worth all the effort she was going to put into saving them.

Varric was keeping content by warming himself at a small firepit in the middle of Haven, wondering what in the world he was even doing here. Oh, sure, Cassandra had dragged him to Haven to spin his story to the Divine, but that plan had gone to shit real fast. And now, as if things hadn't been bad enough already, there was a giant hole in the sky. Varric had never understood why ‘real’ dwarves were so afraid of falling up into the sky, but faced with the Breach, Varric felt like he might finally understand that maybe-not-so-ridiculous fear.

But of course, that couldn't be everything, now could it, for Andraste had all of a sudden returned to save them all, or else her daughter had, or else some new herald, depending on who you asked. All that Varric knew with any certainty was that a human woman named Aloisia Kallig really knew how to boss people around, she had a sword made of fire that could kill demons, and she had some weird shit on her hand that actually could close the rifts that were spewing out demons everywhere. Did that make her holy, blessed, sent by the Maker, etcetera and so forth? Probably not, but it would make for a damned good story if any of them managed to survive this mess.

“Do you mind if I join you for a moment?”

Varric turned and looked up to see the woman in question herself asking to join him. Varric couldn't really say 'no' now that she had become such a big deal, but then again, she had seemed normal enough when they’d first met back in the valley. It was only after they’d come across the Chantry bureaucrats that she’d gotten really scary.

“Plenty of room around the fire, Red,” he said, waving his hand in invitation.

“Thank you, Varric,” Aloisia Kallig said as she took a spot on his right side and stretched out her armored hands over the firepit. “And not just for your company right now, but for your help during the battle. I don’t know if I can overestimate how valuable your help has been. I can only hope you’ll be staying to help us figure all of this out.”

“Oh, enough flattery," Varric said, feeling a touch of anxiety at the kind of attention she was paying him. "I’m just a simple storyteller who was stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or else the right place at the right time, depending on who's telling the tale. Even if I did try to leave, I doubt the seeker would ever actually let me.”

Red actually laughed at that. “She can damn well try. But Cassandra knows that without me, the fight to close the Breach is pointless. So she can try to order me about all she wants, but I hold all the cards. Not that that should even be an issue. My point is, don’t worry about power plays, Varric, and don't feel like you're trapped here. I’m here, I’m able to help, I’m willing to help, and I’m not about to hold anyone here against their will. If Cassandra has an issue with you wanting to go your own way, she’ll have to deal with me.”

“That’s…” Varric didn’t know what to say to that. “You really don’t scare easily, do you, Red?”

“Not easily, Varric, but I do scare,” she said, and the distance her voice held made Varric wonder if he’d crossed a line.

“Hey, now, Red. Cheer up. Whatever it is that does scare you, it’s not here right now. Why don’t we go to Flissa’s and get a drink. Take our minds off the giant hole in the sky for a moment. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that you were trying to get to know me as an actual person, and I’m trying not to collapse in terror at your feet. In my experience, alcohol - in great quality or quantity - is the solution to problems like these.”

Their flame-haired savior smiled at that, and it was a real smile that just managed to reach her eyes. “I’m sorry, Varric. I don’t like scaring people, but waiting here to establish a simple foundation while people out there are scared and dying… And all the while we have people bickering back and forth about things that don’t matter. Humans and elves, mages and Templars, Ferelden and Orlais, all of it. In the face of all of that, plus the Breach… Feeling powerless like this, this is one thing that I hate to admit that I am afraid of. So in short, yes. I’ll take you up on that drink. That is, if you’re paying? I'm fairly sure that I lost my coin purse in the explosion.”

Varric himself smiled now, feeling better as he walked the so-called 'Blade of the Maker' over to the pub. “See, that’s the kind of little detail that people will eat up. The hero with the sword of fire might seem invincible, but she’s scared that she can’t save everyone. That’s the kind of shit that legends are made of. No pressure or anything.”

“Oh, of course not,” the Blade said with a small laugh as she held the pub door open. “After you, Varric.”

“Thanks. Now, what can I treat you to, Our Lady of Legend?”

“A simple ale, I think. I’ve spent too long in the company of people who drink fine wines and such. I haven’t had a decent ale in years. Any ale, really. I think it’s past time I got back in the habit.”

“I can do that. How are you, Flissa? An ale for me, and a decent ale for my friend, if that’s possible.”

“Of course!” Flissa said happily. “And might I say, it’s good to see you in here, milady. It’ll give the boys and girls something to talk about, seeing you here in person. Lift their spirits, it will.”

“Let’s hope so,” Red agreed with a strange smile on her face. “I like to believe that quality spirits help to lift spirits in turn.”

“Oh, dear,” Varric sighed. “Our heroine has a sense of humor, and it involves puns. Maker protect us.”

“Hmm.” Aloisia seemed pensive as Flissa brought them their drinks. “Thank you,” she said as she took a sip before turning back to Varric. “You believe in the Maker, Varric?”

Well, if that wasn't a loaded question. “Oh, shit. I’m not getting out of this alive, am I? Of all the things to talk about it had to be that, didn't it?."

“I’m sorry, Varric," Red said quickly, and she actually seemed to mean it. "I didn’t mean to question your faith, or to put you on the spot. It’s just… How do I put this? I suppose I’ll just be blunt. You’re a dwarf, and the Chantry only recognizes humans as the Maker’s children, as I understand it. And yet, you invoke the Maker’s name. I am not one to judge you based on whomever or whatever you worship, but I’m curious if it is a force of habit, or if you truly believe? And again, you'll receive no judgment for me. I ask only out of honest curiosity”

There were so many questions Varric had that he felt he needed to ask. She said she wouldn’t judge him, and she sounded like she meant it, so that was a good thing. She talked easily enough about herself while revealing precious few actual details. She seemed to want to make friends, but she didn’t seem to understand just how weird she seemed. From her armor to her fighting style to the way that she spoke... The Blade of the Maker was just plain weird.

“Honestly, I’m not sure what to believe anymore,” he replied as carefully as he could. “The Breach is just one more thing in this world that doesn’t make any sort of sense. And if saying this isn’t going to get me killed, you don’t make a ton of sense, either. Again, not to give the wrong impression, Red, but what the hell are you?”

The mighty Blade of the Maker, the chosen one upon whom they had pinned all of their hopes and dreams, slumped forward in her seat. “I’m lost, Varric," she said softly. "And I’m alone. And while I want to make a positive difference, I’m terrified that I won't be able to change anything, or else I'll end up making everything worse.”

Well, shit. Varric couldn’t help but beat himself up a little now that he’d gotten some of the truth out of this woman. Sure, she might be scary on the battlefield, but right now, she was lonely and looking for company.

“Well, I’ve been a bit of an idiot,” Varric said. “Maybe more than a bit. Aw, shit. Flissa, forget decent. Do you have any really good ale behind the counter?”

“No, I'm afraid not. But I can pour you a double if you like?”

“How does a double decent ale sound, Red?”

The Blade of the Maker sat up a bit straighter and smiled at him. “I think that’ll do nicely. And now, unless my memory is even faultier than I thought, you introduced yourself as a storyteller. Would you mind spinning a tale for a lonely woman here in this lovely tavern?”

Varric allowed himself to ease up and laugh. “I think that can be arranged. My most popular story is the Tale of the Champion. I wrote a novel, but sometimes a good narration is better than a book.”

“Then I get to hear the better version first. Tell me about this Champion and their tale, good storyteller.”

“Your first time with this story? Oh, I have to get it right, then. Settle in, this might take a while. All right, now. At the very start of the Fifth Blight, in the Fereldan village of Lothering, there lived a mother and her three children. They all have parts to play in this story, but let me draw your attention to the eldest of the three children: a woman with equal parts magical skill and sarcastic wit named Marian Hawke…”

Two full days had passed since Aloisia Kallig had shared her story with Leliana and the rest of the Inquisition's inner circle, and as the sun rose on the third morning, the spymaster was still not sure what to make of it all. The tale had clearly been a bare bones summation of a greater story stretching back several years, but even the brief summary had thrown everything into doubt. If Kallig's story was true, then the Maker’s reach and vision was infinitely greater than Leliana could begin to imagine, all the while the Maker was supposedly entirely unheard of in star-spanning religious conflicts that had been ongoing for several thousand years.

And depending on what the clergy decided if they were ever to hear this tale, they might despair that the Maker would never return to his children. The Chant of Light was supposed to call the Maker back to His children when it was sung from all corners of the world. But what now defined ‘the world?’ Should the Chant be spread across just Thedas? Would they need to sing the Chant from the lands beyond Thedas? Or did they need to hear it sung from the countless stars in the sky? If either of the latter had even the slightest possibility of sounding true to anyone, then Aloisia Kallig’s origins could not be allowed to become public knowledge, lest it spark widespread despair, along with the violence that would surely follow in the inevitable panic.

For now, however, Leliana had worked with Josie to come up with a plausible story for the Blade of the Maker to be told to anyone and everyone who would inevitably ask about her, and hopefully Cassandra and Cullen wouldn’t object too much. As much as Leliana respected the Right Hand of the Divine and the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, she felt that they often lacked the capacity for subtlety that she and Josie possessed, and such subtlety was very much what was needed for this very delicate situation.

Leliana had been the first to arrive for the meeting, and Cullen was the first to join her in the back room of Haven's chantry. The small room - taken up in large part by a table-wide map of southern Thedas - had become a sort of de facto war room for the Inquisition to plan out its objectives. “Leliana,” he greeted her warmly. “Have you and the ambassador come up with some way to explain away the Blade’s outlandish tale?”

“The trick is not to explain her own tale as she has told it to us,” Leliana explained. “It is far too outlandish for us to do so. We have to take what she has given us that might fit into the world as we understand it and then use those details to create our own tale that is plausible and palatable to the masses, the nobility, the clergy, and anyone else who might inquire about her. Whether or not her claims have any truth to them, she speaks and acts as if they are true, and she is right that people won’t accept such things. She seems to believe these things, given that she speaks about her own experience with a level of familiarity that you and I would discuss Orlais or Ferelden. I believe that Josie and I have come up with a story that most everyone will accept, provided they see the Lady Blade actively working as a force for good for the people.”

Cullen let out a grunt that might have been of disapproval. “Well, at the very least, she does seem to be making an effort. I thought that she had been exaggerating when she said that she would be getting to know everyone in the Inquisition personally, but during a set of training drills, she was going up and down the lines, introducing herself to every single soldier that has joined us so far. When I asked them about their conversations, they told me that she asked to know their names, where they were from, and why they were here. She really is taking this seriously.”

“I wonder about the nature of that seriousness,” Leliana said, thinking back to that conversation about meeting literally every single one of their people. “She specifically mentioned that things would have to change when she could no longer meet individually with every single member of the Inquisition. I can only think of one reason why she would believe such a thing to be necessary in the first place.”

“What reason would that be?” Cullen asked.

It was moments like this that Leliana wondered if people like Cullen were simple-minded, naïve, or else merely lucky to have never had to deal with the intricacies that the Great Game and similar politics of influence entailed. “You recall her tale, yes? I believe her initial intention was to give us a sense of scale from her point of view. What may seem like a great battle to us would seem like a petty squabble to her. All the same, if she once commanded numbers several times that of all of Thedas, even with all the resources at her disposal that implies… The larger an organization, the larger the gaps that need to be filled, if they even can be filled. If I were a gambling woman, I would wager that the Blade once suffered some sort of betrayal. Something apart from what she claims to have stranded her here, and quite probably something that she might have been able to anticipate if she had been able to look each of her people in the eye and demand personal loyalty.”

“That sounds like unhealthy paranoia," Cullen said quietly. "Do you think she’ll want to get to know every one of your agents as well, Leliana?”

Cullen earned himself a glare from Leliana at that remark, but not out of any anger towards the man himself. No, his question was entirely valid, and it would not be good if Aloisia Kallig chose to demand that of her. More than signaling distrust in Leliana’s own abilities as a spymaster, it could compromise the Inquisition if any of their agents were captured. And it would speak to a certain level of paranoia unbecoming in the Blade of the Maker if she was to be the hero they all hoped she would be.  Perpetual paranoia was supposed to stay with Leliana alone.  Then again, one was only paranoid if they imagined threats all around them. When the threats were very real, the definition of 'paranoia' could be opened up to interpretation.

“It is possible,” Leliana conceded. “However, if her prior experience is anything compared to what she claims it to be, then she will understand the need for agents to remain apart from their leader. I fear that it will be my task will to earn her trust as the Inquisition’s spymaster. If I fail to manage that much… Well, it does not do well to think overlong on such things.”

“I understand,” Cullen said, though Leliana doubted that he truly did. “She is quite a frightening woman. I wonder if we will be able to keep her in check should she turn against us.”

Leliana felt her face go pale. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford! You will not discuss the Blade of the Maker in such a way. For the Inquisition’s sake – no, for the sake of all of Thedas – I will not allow it.” Leliana put both hands on the table and hung her head. “You speak blasphemy, Cullen. I will not hear you repeat it. She may be a mortal woman, but she was clearly sent to us in an act of providence. You might not expect such beliefs from one in my profession, but there are some lines that I will not have anyone cross. We will not speak of harming one of the Maker’s chosen servants.”

As she looked up at Cullen, she saw him visibly backing up. “Maker, Leliana, all I meant was that… She’s a mage, right? Even if she was sent by the Maker, she is still a mortal woman with access to powerful spells that are unlike anything we have ever seen. If she were to become possessed, she could be truly dangerous to everyone around her, if not the entire world. And let's not forget that she claims to have been possessed before. Can we simply overlook that?”

Feeling her breath steady, Leliana put a hand to her forehead as she stood up straight again. “No, we cannot. However, I do believe that we can turn it to our advantage. She claims that her abilities don’t come from the Fade, though I suppose we’d need an active Templar or mage to observe her to say for sure. Regarding her previous possession, regardless of whether it was a demon or the ghost of some dead person as she claims, her ability to overcome and destroy that entity can be worked into part of the legend of the Blade of the Maker, and it should help you to feel at ease.”

As if speaking her title was in itself a divine summons, the woman in question opened the door and strode inside. For the first time, not on the field of battle, not being regaled by an outlandish tale, Leliana truly took a look at the woman who would be their savior. She was of an average height for a human woman, with long and flowing red hair and a kind, freckled face with soft green eyes. Her armor was mostly a dull grey, but with patterns that looked akin to – but most certainly were not – dwarven runes, and it covered her torso, arms, and legs while leaving the joints exposed. At her waist area, the armor split into separate plates that formed a sort of skirt around her pelvis.

“Enjoying the view, Sister Leliana?” the Blade asked, her voice tinged with sly humor.

“My apologies, Lady Blade. I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” was all that Leliana could say. Maker, she wasn’t a gawping novice at the Game anymore. Even if the Blade was a beautiful woman, it had nothing to do with her role in the Inquisition, though her beauty could work in their favor.  All the same, appearances were irrelevant in the here and now.  When the time came to mingle among the common man or else the nobility, then Leliana could focus on the Blade's wardrobe.

“I know you weren’t. I came to speak with you privately before we proceed further as a group. Commander, would you please give us the room for a while? I’ll try not to be too long. I did say that I wanted to speak with you all privately. I’ve simply decided to take this moment to speak with Sister Leliana first.”

“Of course, Lady Blade. I’ll leave you to it,” Cullen said as he beat a retreat that was a bit too hasty.

The Blade sighed. “He’s afraid of me, isn’t he? Frightened by my ‘magic’ I imagine?”

Leliana nodded, clasping her hands behind her back to stand professionally before the Blade. “He used to be a Templar. Old habits die hard.”

“I understand that feeling. And I would tell you what I can to allay the fears of the masses, as well as take this opportunity to get to know my new spymaster. I confess, this is not easy for me, not at all. I’m accustomed to having a spymaster who I know intimately, who has personally done more for me than anyone else I have ever met, and who has literally interposed her own body between me and potential danger several times. And yet, I must trust you - we must trust each other - for the crisis that we face requires it. I imagine that if Divine Justinia saw you fit to manage her personal spy network, then you must have a great deal of skill, and I would have us come to know each other so that we might develop a working relationship based on mutual trust and respect.”

Leliana could respect the Blade's sentiments, but she had to be honest with her concerns. “Trust does not come easily to you. Does it, my lady?”

The Blade’s lips turned upward in what looked like a suppressed chuckle. “No, it most certainly does not. And I would rather not rehash the betrayals that I have suffered. One betrayal in particular hurt more than any other. It did not help that he was always loyal, though he had to convince everyone otherwise. If he had told me his plans, then his cover would never have held up. I had to be in the dark, and I had to feel genuinely betrayed. I don’t know if any of your agents have ever had need to do such a thing, but there may come a moment where an agent needs to make a split second decision that will cost you their trust. I would want you to pursue them as a genuine threat, but I would also want you to capture them if possible on the off chance they had to make such a terrible choice.”

What happened to her, I wonder? Leliana thought. This betrayal still haunts her, I can tell, but if it was done in her service… She is more cunning than I imagined. I wonder just what did that pseudo-betrayal cost her.

“You should guard your thoughts more carefully, spymaster,” the Blade said, and Leliana couldn't help but let out a tiny gasp. “The Force is far more than simply lifting rocks or shooting lightning. It binds all things in the universe. And right now, your surface thoughts are so ‘loud’ that I can’t help but overhear them. I know I said I didn't want to talk about it, but I seem to have done so anyway. Do you want to know what I lost due to that incident? Or do you need a moment to come to terms with me being more cunning than you imagined?” Aloisia Kallig said with a wry grin.

Leliana should have been afraid. She should have been utterly terrified that someone could literally hear the thoughts inside her head. All the same, she couldn’t get past the fact that the Blade was teasing her of all things. “You’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,” she said carefully. “But in the interest of building trust, yes. I would like to know what you lost.”

“Very well,” Aloisia Kallig said as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She opened her eyes and began to speak. “To travel from world to world, we use ships that travel the vastness of space in the way that a boat would travel the ocean. Stars and the planets orbiting them are our ports of call. Just like nautical ships, space ships are often equipped with weapons, either for self-defense or else to wage war. Of the latter kind, I would ask you to imagine a single vessel several hundred meters in length, and a smaller measure of that in height and width. It could be in the space above the skies over us, and we would never know without a telescope or some other form of scanning equipment. From far up there, a single shot - or maybe a small volley, more likely - could reduce Val Royeaux and everything within a wide radius to rubble and ash. A few more volleys could destroy every living soul in Thedas, provided they were properly aimed.”

The casual ease with which Aloisia addressed the potential destruction of the world and everyone living sent a freezing chill up and down Leliana's spine, colder than any she had ever felt before. Not even in the wake of the explosion at the Conclave or when facing down the Archdemon a decade ago had she felt such terror. Seriously, how did the Blade expect her to respond to the revelation that her entire world could be destroyed in seconds without any warning at all?

“You needn’t worry, however,” the Blade said just as casually, doing nothing to reassure Leliana. “This world is so isolated from any other habitable planet that it almost seems by design. And the wars that these ships were built to wage are very far away, and the targets such weapons were designed for are not the kind that will be found anywhere close by. The ship I described, however, was the model upon which thousands like it were built, operating in tandem, and those ships conquered my native Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic with which we were at war. When I defeated the Emperor, I gained control of that fleet of space ships from him. For a time, I commanded more firepower than any other single being in the many, many worlds of this galaxy, or so I assume. A great deal of people wanted me to assume the mantle of empress of the entire galaxy, to rule over trillions of people, if not quadrillions.  Ah, that would be a thousand trillions, to clarify. But I did not want to become the kind of monster who lives only for power, and I definitely did not want to forget the people I was supposed to fight for.”

Leliana was still trying to make sense of all the strange things that the Blade said about her world. Leliana understood that from the Blade’s point of view, there were many worlds. For Leliana herself – And for everyone else, I imagine – there was simply the one world that she lived in, and then there was the world of the Blade’s stories. And in that world of hers that contained trillions (or quadrillions!) of people – just the sheer concept of a number that large was astounding – the Blade had been offered a throne to rule over all of those countless multitudes, and she had refused that power. Maker, I need to get her on the right foot with Empress Celene! Given her past experience with monarchs, I wouldn’t be surprised if she hates them on basic principle. And that wasn’t even touching on the notion that a ship in the night sky could obliterate all of Thedas, if the Blade was telling the truth.

Lady Kallig took a deep breath before continuing. “My choice was to use the fleet to protect trade routes from pirates, to deliver relief supplies to worlds that had been ravaged by war, and to act as a buffer to prevent the Empire and the Republic from reigniting a pointless and bloody war. For a few short years, I managed to keep the peace. And while I never wanted the power of a supreme leader, I was the one who, in the end, had to make the choices that kept the peace for countless people throughout the entire galaxy.

“That was until a plot emerged to destroy my Alliance. The conspirators were mostly misguided and angry people who chose to blame me as a simple answer to very complex problems, but they had vital and dangerous help from a very intelligent droid. A droid is… It’s like what I imagine a golem to be, I suppose? It’s an artificially-made being that is designed for a specific purpose. However, sometimes these machines develop their own personalities and their own wills over time. One such droid had at one point been a part of my fleet, commanding one of my ships. Before the fleet came into my possession, she detached herself to avoid being controlled and - from a certain point of view - enslaved.  To ensure that she never again suffered such a fate, she sought to destroy the enture fleet. And before you cede her any moral high ground, she chose to destroy her sister-droids on every other ship in the fleet rather than attempt to free them. I confess that I had had considered granting the GEMINI units free will, but a prior experience with a droid intelligence called Mentor cautioned me against that course of action, but that is a story for another time. This particular GEMINI droid was able to watch and listen and observe literally everything that happened within the expanse of my Alliance's headquarters.  My agent discovered this, and so he sought to infiltrate our enemies by pretending to betray me.  Due to the surveillance, he couldn't safely tell me his plans, and the enemy had to be convinced that I genuinely felt betrayed.

“He succeeded in infiltrating the enemy, and he managed to stop them from destroying my Alliance.  The Eternal Fleet, however, which was the main source of hard power that I possessed...  The enemy was able to destroy it entirely. I mentioned one ship that could destroy all of Thedas in a few minutes, if not seconds. Imagine thousands just like it – a fleet of those ships being the only thing keeping two trigger-happy factions, each full of hundreds of worlds with trillions of people, from going back to war – and then imagine all of them gone in mere minutes. More than that, I learned a painful lesson about using tools that I know little or nothing about. Even if something appears to do its job properly, if you don’t know where it came from or why it was made, then it can be turned against you.”

Leliana had a thought about where the Blade was going with this, but she didn’t want to interrupt. “What was this tool that was turned against you?”

“My flagship, Leliana. The Gravestone. It wasn’t itself a part of the Eternal Fleet that I came into ownership of, but before I did, the Gravestone was capable of destroying dozens of the Eternal Fleet's ships with a single shot, almost as if it had been designed to do so. Alas, I only happened onto the Gravestone by some current of the Force with a supreme sense of irony. I didn’t know what the Gravestone truly was, not until it was far too late. To understand my error, you need to understand the history of two worlds: Iokath and Zakuul. The people of Iokath built mighty droids that could destroy entire civilizations. Six of these droids were sent to Zakuul to test their effectiveness as weapons, and the names of those six droids would be remembered millennia later, the stories changing over centuries until those names had become Zakuul’s pantheon of gods. I had to seek out and destroy each of these war machines to make sure that they couldn’t wreak any further havoc. As I said, there were six of them in total, or so I thought.

“In Zakuulan mythology, there was a seventh entity that was sometimes spoken of as an incarnation of Izax, the chief of the pantheon and mightiest of the droid weapons. The truth was something else entirely. Zildrog was its name, and it was the tool that my Emperor used to kill every living thing on his homeworld before he absorbed all of that life Force into himself, becoming effectively immortal in the process. To be clear, this wasn't Ziost, the world I mentioned in my earlier tale. I learned too late that Ziost wasn’t the first world that he consumed. For all I know, it wasn’t even the second such world. The enemy organization my agent had infiltrated was the 'Order of Zildrog,' and I went to confront the Order and, presumably, Zildrog itself.

“But I was wrong. My agent led me to Zildrog’s mind, but stolen me away from its body in the process. While I was confronting its minions, Zildrog took remote control of its body and used it to destroy every last ship in the Eternal Fleet. It had been the Gravestone all along.  The ship that had seen me safely through so many battles had always been the body of the seventh Iokathi droid-god, and because I willingly used it without understanding what it truly was, I lost any hope for keeping peace in the galaxy. I extracted my agent, and I forgave him once he convinced me that he had never truly betrayed me. But without the power of the Eternal Fleet to keep the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic in check anymore, the Third Galactic War began very shortly thereafter. One thing led to another, and now, here I am.”

The entire tale was both outlandish and grandiose, but there was something very eerily familiar about the Blade's tale that Leliana had to say aloud, just to make sure she understood correctly. “You're saying that you slew a pantheon of seven evil gods?” With the words spoken aloud, Leliana found herself suddenly shocked into silence. Not that the masses would ever believe such a tale, but as far as Leliana could tell, the Maker had sent unto them a woman who might very well have personally slain a pantheon of seven false gods, not at all dissimilar to the Old Gods of the Tevinter Imperium. But even if it was at all true, it was beside the point. Such idle fancies would have to wait. The Blade had been trying to make a separate point. “And what does this lesson about unfamiliar tools have to do with the here and now, Lady Blade?”

Aloisia Kallig laughed, and Leliana felt another chill of fear run up her spine at the cold lack of mirth in the Blade's laugh. “It has everything to do with the entire Inquisition," Kallig said, her voice low and grim. "Namely, it has to do with this,” she said as she held up her left hand, which flared up momentarily with the strange, green magic that they knew as ‘the mark’ only because it had been labeled as such by their expert on the Fade. “My knowledge of what you call magic is very limited, but this here is connected to the Fade somehow, and that makes it unlike everything else that I do when I call upon the Force. Something put this 'mark' on my hand, but we don’t know what it really is, or what it was truly meant to do. We don’t know the consequences of repeatedly using it. I’m not sure I would even still be alive if not for Solas and his knowledge of this particular magic. And that brings me to my first assignment for you as the Inquisition's spymaster.”

As duty called upon her, Leliana automatically adjusted her posture and kept eye contact with the Blade of the Maker, who seemed to be taking up the mantle of her superior. “What do you need, Lady Blade?”

“Quite frankly, I need to know about Solas,” Aloisia Kallig said, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she folded her arms across her chest. “Let’s think about this, shall we? An elven apostate – not Dalish, not from an alienage – just happens to know a great deal about the very powerful magic that destroyed the Conclave without any warning. Not only is this mage right here at Haven and in a position to help, but he volunteers his services to do just that. From what I understand, very few elves and very few mages would readily hand themselves to the Chantry’s mercy of their own volition, let alone an elven mage. This one did just that, and because he had exactly the right knowledge at exactly the right moment, he has managed to insert himself as an invaluable member of the Inquisition. I imagine that you and Cassandra looked to the surviving Circle mages after the explosion, and with all of the knowledge of the libraries of all their Circles, they still couldn't help you. And yet, Solas succeeded where all of them had failed. He is definitely more than he claims to be, and that’s not even taking into consideration how much taller he is than any other elf that I have met. That alone makes me suspicious.

“And there is one other thing that has me convinced that Solas is linked to the mark. When I closed the first rift, I did not do it on my own. Solas took my left hand and held it up to the rift, and I could feel him directing the energies of the mark to seal the rift. He showed me how to do it on my own going forward, but the magic that the mark uses to close rifts is a ritual of some sort, and Solas knew exactly how to use it for that specific purpose. Logic follows that he knows far more than he is letting on about the magic that created the mark. Following that, it's possible that he knows more about what created the Breach as well.”

Leliana felt yet another chill run up her spine as the Blade pointed out so clearly just how deeply she had underestimated Solas.  These chills had very quickly become a common reoccurrence, but Leliana knew better than to treat them as anything other than the dire warnings that they were. All of them had indeed been desperate and eager for any sort of help, for any possible hope to stop the Breach. And when that help had appeared, they had welcomed Solas and his aid without any fuss. And then he had fought at their side, almost certainly to ingratiate himself to the Inquisition and to earn their trust. It was all too perfect. Could Solas have played a role in the creation of the Breach? But if so, then why would he help to mitigate the damage that it had caused?

“You are right, Lady Blade,” Leliana conceded, her own voice lowering as she began to appreciate the seriousness of the threat that the Blade had identified. “We were just so worried about the Breach, and we didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth when one offered itself up to us so readily. But the timing, not to mention his knowledge of this specific magic… You are right that it is too convenient. With your permission, I’ll send scouts to find his home village and see if I can learn about him from others who may have had contact with him. From there, we can build on what we know and investigate further. I assume I don’t need to tell you to be careful with him, my Lady?”

Aloisia let herself smile a tiny bit. “I would warn you to do the same. Solas is in many ways like the mark on my hand. He is an asset that we know nothing about, but he is the only one who knows anything about this,” she said, holding up her left hand again. “And until we learn more about both of these things, then we will still need to make use of them. Solas may claim to be a simple apostate, but he speaks of matters such as posturing for the sake of politics with the ease of one who has experienced such things. Naturally, he learned all of his great wisdom while wandering the Fade, which is not a story that we can corroborate while awake. The next time I go to sleep, I will try to learn more from any spirits I can find.”

As Aloisia spoke of searching the Fade for answers in such a casual way, Leliana couldn’t help but feel inadequate in the presence of this divine savior who clearly had a mind to match her own. The Maker allowed this tragedy to happen. Dorothea died for a chance for peace, and in return, the Maker sent a savior - His Blade - to render me useless in bringing her murderer to justice.

“Don’t think such things, Leliana,” Aloisia chastised her, and Leliana looked up. Had she said that aloud? “Sorry. I try not to eavesdrop on people’s thoughts, and deliberately entering someone else’s mind is a boundary not to be crossed lightly for reasons both moral and practical." It was comforting to hear that Lady Kallig at least had moral limits about such things. "All the same, I can’t help but hearing such loud thoughts. You are far from useless. I do not know the network that you have in place. In fact, I know nothing about managing a spy network at all. I had the best possible spymaster in the galaxy at my right hand for years, both before and after I married her. Even so, nobody is perfect. Both of us blamed ourselves for what happened to Ziost, and we both blamed ourselves for the destruction of the Eternal Fleet. Warships are replaceable, but the population of Ziost is not. Maybe one day, I can convince myself that I’m not to blame for the death of an entire world.”

The Blade took a deep breath and looked Leliana straight in the eye. “You don’t need to be perfect, Sister Leliana. I just need your very best. Now with all of that said, I open myself up to you for any questions you might have, and I will ask a few of my own in due course. Is that all right with you?”

Her last spymaster was her wife?! No wonder she has such a high opinion of her. “I don’t know if I can compete with such a legacy, but I’ll give it my all regardless. Now then, you are right. I do have many, many questions.”

Aloisia smiled warmly. “Fire away.”

Chapter Text

Cullen had always liked to think of himself as a reasonable man, even if his recent past in Kirkwall had shown him to listen to reason only far too late. Despite all of that, he felt comfortable in believing that the Blade was being unreasonable, what with interrupting a supposed meeting with all of her advisors for a one-on-one chit-chat with Leliana. Both the Inquisition's spymaster and Ambassador Montilyet were good at their jobs, but Cullen often felt as if the two of them were ganging up on him as older sisters would pick on a little brother.

The truth was really quite simple, as Cullen had been belatedly realizing was the case with many things. Diplomacy and spycraft were both areas of expertise that required a degree of subtlety and patience that Cullen simply did not possess. Lady Cassandra, at the very least, spoke in a language he understood: warfare. While their exact methods were different, both of them preferred direct solutions to clear and present dangers, spoken with blunt honesty.

The Lady Blade, based on his limited knowledge of her, seemed more likely to take the subtle approach rather than the direct one. He only hoped that she wouldn’t dive so deep into any given scheme that it put his soldiers in harm’s way. He was probably worrying over nothing, but all the same…

No, there was nothing for it. After the Blade had left Leliana alone, the spymaster had called Josephine in to help her. This whole business of establishing a background for the Blade left an uneasy feeling in Cullen’s gut. The Inquisition was supposed to stand for justice and order, but also for truth. And yet, how would a normal person react to what the Blade claimed to be true? While her stories were enthralling and unlike anything he had ever thought to imagine, they were so incredible that they couldn’t possibly be true. But if they were true, then did they have a right to lie about it all?

The sound of familiar footsteps drew his attention to Seeker Cassandra walking towards him where he stood in the middle of Haven’s Chantry. “Commander,” she greeted him. “How are you feeling?”

“Well enough for the time being,” he answered, very much not wanting to have this conversation right now. Lyrium withdrawal was painful enough without the shame of talking about it. “I will let you know if becomes unmanageable. And if I don’t notice…”

“Then I will tell you,” Cassandra reassured him. “You look well, but I wanted to hear it from you. Forgive me my rudeness. I was simply concerned.”

Cullen shook his head, waving off the apology. “No need for that. I appreciate it, Lady Cassandra, truly.”

“Very well, then,” Cassandra said. “One of Leliana’s messengers summoned me to meet with her and Josephine, and I was asked to tell you to join me. The message she left me also asked me to tell you not to ‘idly fret’ a few feet away the meeting room while Leliana and Josephine do their work.”

Cullen felt his face start to contort into a grimace. Leliana had known he was waiting right outside, and she had gone out of her way to not only circumvent him, but to poke fun at him! Honestly, how was he to work with these people?

Resigning himself to a simple sigh, Cullen composed himself. “Very well, then. Let’s not keep them waiting.”

So saying, Cullen and Cassandra went to the rear of the Chantry and entered to find Leliana and Josephine already there talking with each other, though they stopped when the door opened.

“Good. You’re here,” Leliana said. “Close the door behind you, please? The Blade will be joining us shortly, but there are a few things that I discussed with her that I feel would be best for all of us to know going forward.”

It was moments like this that Cullen could drop his distaste for Leliana’s line of work and give her his full respect. He did not know Josephine well yet, but he imagined that like Leliana, Cassandra, and himself, she was a consummate professional when the need arose.

“What other tales has our star-wanderer been telling?” Cullen asked, unable to keep a bit of disdain from his voice.

“Well, among other things, she once slew seven... Seven things that were worshipped by some as a pantheon of gods. They were false gods, you could say, in that they weren’t divine at all, but merely tools of destruction that left such a lasting impact that they were remembered as such.” Leliana couldn’t help but smirk at Cullen as he felt his mouth start to hang open. “Alas, their names are not the same as Tevinter’s Old Gods, but I found the similarity… Well, I can’t speak to the truth of it, but if there actually is any truth to that particular story…”

“Maker have mercy,” Cullen said as he felt a headache coming on.

“Alas, that is simply another part of her tale that we cannot tell,” Leliana conceded. “It is too incredible to believe. She did speak to me of how she slew her former Emperor, and I believe that story will set your mind at ease, Cullen.”

“Anything, Leliana. Please, set my mind at ease, I beg you. Just don’t let this be some twisted joke at my expense,” Cullen groaned, hating how pitiful he sounded.

“Perhaps I might share this story?” Josephine suggested, her voice a soothing balm compared to Leliana’s mind games. “Leliana shared with me the story, and I will take pains to say only what was conveyed to me without any embellishment. Does that help, Commander?”

“Yes,” Cullen agreed. “Thank you, Lady Josephine.”

“Oh, no thanks are needed. But, as to the story… The ghost of the former Emperor lingered in the Lady Blade’s mind for several years after she struck down his body. Five of those years were spent while she was imprisoned as a frozen trophy. I confess, I do not understand that part of it, but he apparently showed her visions while she was thusly imprisoned. She believes he meant to break her spirit, and yet he used his own power to keep her alive.”

“Why would such an evil being help his greatest foe?” Cassandra asked. Cullen was grateful that she had the presence of mind to even bring it up.

“The Blade told of how the Emperor constantly urged her to overthrow his children and seize his Eternal Throne for herself,” Josephine explained. “He pretended to view her as his equal. At certain times, he would attempt to gain a foothold further into her mind by offering his power to her to help herself. One of these offers came as the woman who the Blade would later marry was fighting many enemies and found herself disarmed. The Blade claims that he stopped the flow of time for everything but the two of them as he offered to save the life of the woman she loved.

“And despite the immense temptation before her, she refused his offer of power,” Josephine said with a level of firmness that Cullen had to admit was appropriate for what she was describing. “The Blade had faith in her beloved, and she knew that her lover would rather die than see Aloisia Kallig’s spirit corrupted. All the same, the Blade did hesitate briefly before making her choice. In the end, however, she chose wisely and correctly.”

Cullen felt his face go white as a rush of horrible memories came back to him. At the Circle at Lake Calenhad during the Fifth Blight, he had been tormented with visions of the Hero of Ferelden – Solona Amell – when demons had overrun the tower. He had once had a crush on the young woman, and the demons used those emotions to torment him and drive him to a madness that wouldn’t fully break until several years later, after Marian Hawke and Knight-Commander Meredith had their infamous standoff.

Even all these years later, Cullen’s dreams were sometimes haunted by specters of Solona Amell. Demons spoke in her voice calling him out for his cruelty towards the mages he was sworn to protect. Sometimes they whispered that they loved him, or else they tried to seduce him. They might appear in her image as overlords of evil, dedicated to reminding him of his failures while trying to break him. And when those failures involved Kirkwall, too often they came wearing the face of Marian Hawke, instead.

“Maker have mercy,” he said at last. “Nobody should be forced to make such a choice.” Cullen wanted to take this moment to sympathize with the Blade, but his own scars ran too deep to allow him much leeway in his thoughts.

“There is more,” Josephine continued. “Eventually, Lady Kallig had defeated all of her enemies, including the Emperor’s children, and sat in his throne. According to her, the throne itself had literal power, and without an occupant, that power would run rampant and cause enough destruction to, in Lady Kallig’s own words, ‘destroy all of Thedas and everything in it several million times over.’ She then specified that this was a conservative estimate.

“At this point, the ghost of her Emperor decided to fully take control of her body. She believes that he had grown bored with his old identity, and believed that taking the place of the woman who had accomplished so much would allow him to experience life in a new way. Lady Kallig was forced into what she describes as ‘a battle of wills within her own mind.’ In this battle, she wielded the same weapons and spells that we have seen her use, but these were merely a mental construct, much like the Fade.”

“But it wasn’t actually the Fade? You’re sure about this?” Cullen asked. This was something he had to know. It was no small matter.

“According to Lady Kallig, this battle did not take place in the Fade, but the way in which she defeated him would seem to apply to demons as we understand them. As her Emperor began to overwhelm her, she had an epiphany, and she invoked his own words to force him to stop his attack and to bring him to his knees. Her logic was simple. She realized, in her own words, ‘My mind, my rules.’ He only had as much power as she allowed him, and at that point she denied him any further hold over her, and then she willed him destroyed, and so he was.”

“And if that is not enough to allay your fears,” Leliana said with a bit of bite to her voice, “she has given me reason to believe that she is a Dreamer. She told me that she created an island in the Fade for herself, and she sometimes converses with spirits there who take the forms of people she once knew. Most of them are genuinely spirits of more positive human aspects, and those few that tried to tempt her, she either banishes or simply ignores. In fact, her concern was more with guarding her personal Fade island from other Dreamers. When I told her that there are so few actual Dreamers in the world to be worth mentioning, she dismissed my concerns as naïve at best.”

The revelation that the Blade was a Dreamer did not calm Cullen’s fears in the slightest. Leliana had to have a twisted sense of humor to even suggest as such. Her words had quite the opposite effect, despite the assurances that Kallig was in full control of her mental faculties. And yet, in spite of all of this, Cullen found himself decidedly impressed by the simple logic that the Blade had come to that would undoubtedly serve every living person well to remember. One ultimately held dominion over one’s own mind. Cullen would have to remember that the next time he had unpleasant visitors when he slept. Was it really so simple as to just say ‘no’ to a demon? It was worth trying at least.

“That is… That is good to hear,” Cassandra said at last. “If nothing else, the Blade’s mental fortitude is something to be admired. Such willpower will serve her well when she sleeps.”

“Indeed,” Cullen agreed, despite his anxieties about having a Dreamer of all things at the center of the Inquisition. Maybe this would actually all work out after all. “I wonder, then, if this act of willpower will make it into the tale you intend to share with the people about just who the Blade of the Maker is?”

“Oh, splendid,” came a voice that caused Cullen to whip his head around to see the woman in question standing in the open doorway. “I’ve been wondering myself just who the Blade of the Maker really is. Do share!”

As she closed the door behind her, Aloisia felt the emotions of the various people in the room. Shock from Commander Cullen, simple surprise from Seeker Cassandra, admiration from Josephine, and satisfaction from Sister Leliana. During their private chat, the two of them had discussed having Aloisia making a dramatic entrance to finally hear out what the plan was for the story that she would have to memorize. It was as good a test as any to take the temperature of a room.

Leliana had also strongly urged Aloisia to most definitely not reveal to anyone else that she could pick up thoughts and emotions. It would make people either incredibly uncomfortable or it would inspire religious zealotry that would grow beyond their control. All the same, it was important for Aloisia to let Leliana know such things. Trust was a two-way path, and revealing that secret was a calculated gambit. Naturally, it had been Lana’s idea.

As far as trusting Leliana with saving Thedas from more than just the Breach… Aloisia would need allies, and if past experience was any indicator, then Leliana would be her most valuable ally and confidant in this world who wasn’t the ghost of her dead wife. It would take time to cultivate that trust and to help her see the flaws in the world she knew. In time, however… No. Best to focus on the here and now. Other problems would have to wait.

With their privacy assured, Aloisia looked at each of the four advisors standing around the table. “Before you get started, might I just add that if we’re to continue to have lengthy meetings in this room, we could very well do with some chairs. Simple stools would do. If the leaders of this Inquisition are to be at all effective, then we can’t be falling down from having been on our feet all day.”

“I’ll see to it, Lady Blade,” Leliana said. “Also, you should take care to avoid saying things such as ‘this Inquisition’ or ‘this world.’ You may see them as one of many, but you are the exception. You must adjust your words to fit in and become the leader we hope you will be.”

It was a good point. “Duly noted, Sister Leliana. I’ll try to be mindful of that,” Aloisia said. “I’d ask that all of you not hesitate to correct me should I make such a mistake, and also to be honest with your opinions and your criticisms, so long as they are given in an appropriate environment. We will succeed together or else we will fail alone.”

“Well spoken,” Josephine said as she scribbled on her clipboard. “You have a gift with oratory. I hope you’ll forgive me if I take a few notes on what you say. Such things could prove helpful with our diplomatic efforts.”

“By all means, Josephine. The stakes are far too high to let petty things such as pride get in the way of progress. Now then… What sort of person is the Blade of the Maker? Have you decided yet?”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen interrupted. “But did you really slay a pantheon of seven false gods?”

It was the wrong thing to say, but aside from herself and Lana, only Leliana knew why. Aloisia steadied her breathing as she felt Lana’s presence calming her from within. “I did, Commander,” she said tersely. “But that victory was a bitter one. I would not even call it a story of victory at all, but one of betrayal and loss. I would not like to be reminded of it again. Needless to say, they were not dragons, though superstitions did depict the most powerful of them as such. That is all I will say on this matter, and I am being generous by speaking about it for this long. Am I understood, Commander?”

Her words were hard and cold, and she felt Cullen’s shame, and even a bit of fear of her. Good. A soldier must answer to and trust in his superiors. If he is reluctant to trust, then fear will suffice for the time being. I can’t let that fear linger too long, however. We’ll both have to learn to live with each other to save this… To save the world. Time will tell how far he’ll be willing to go to save it from itself rather than just the Breach.

“You’re doing well, my love,” Lana said from within. “Keep it up, Aloy.”

Giving her wife a silent thought of approval, Aloisia looked to Cullen, folding her arms under her chest as she awaited his response.

“I understand,” Cullen said. He made a face, and then amended his words. “No, I don’t understand. Not all of it. I don’t think I’m capable of that. But I do understand that this is a painful memory for you. I’m sorry, Lady Blade. I suppose... No, never mind.”

Aloisia sighed. “You have permission to speak freely, Commander. All of us need to be able to speak plainly if we are to work together and have any chance of success. Go on with your line of thought, Commander. Please.”

Cullen noticeably averted her gaze. “It’s just that… Lady Blade, your stories are so incredible in the most literal sense. They are so grand and yet so unbelievable. It feels like something out of a children’s tale, only the heroes in those stories never feel fear or pain or regret. And like a fool, I convinced myself that you were either some mythic savior or else some monstrous demon, neither of which a mere mortal could comprehend. But you are as human as any one of us. I’m sorry that I didn’t see that until now.”

Aloisia sighed, wondering at the irony of the situation. “Apology accepted, Commander. Two last things before we get to why we’re here. The first is more of a stray thought than anything else. I shouldn't need to convince my closest advisors that I am a mere mortal, even if we are about to discuss how to convince everyone else that truly am more than that. I understand the need for the dynamic, but I truly don’t care for it.

“The real issue is that I am not ‘as human’ as any of you. The phrase is an exclusive one, counting out the non-human denizens of Thedas. If we’re to act as a force for the good of all, we need to act as one with words and with deeds. I understand that it may not be the politically expedient thing to do, but it is how we will proceed,” Aloisia said, throwing down the gauntlet. It was not a challenge, but a statement of fact. If anyone thought to question her here, then she would need to assert herself in a way she didn’t want to be forced into doing.

A silence hung in the room for a few very long moments. Finally, Cassandra spoke up. “Very well, Lady Blade,” she said. A simple, tacit acknowledgment that Aloisia had set the course for the Inquisition. Whether she knew it or not, Cassandra had accepted Aloisia as her superior. It was one less thing to worry about.

If this world… No, if the world was to be saved, then it would be saved on Aloisia’s own terms. The world was full of backwards superstitions parroted by corrupt institutions, and that had led them all to this crisis. Aside from the Breach, the world would change for the better under Aloisia’s guidance, hopefully without too much resistance. Anything at all would be better than the status quo.

“All right, then,” she said, letting a warm smile come to her face. “Sister Leliana? Josephine? What do you have for us? Just who is the Blade of the Maker?”

Aloisia watched Leliana turn to Josephine and give a silent nod to tell her to go ahead and be the one to tell the story. It was a good choice to have the diplomat do the talking. “Here is what we will tell the world," Josephine began. "Aloisia Kallig was born into slavery in the Tevinter Imperium. She never knew her Master’s name, for he would only ever let her call him ‘Master.’ In her childhood, she prayed to Andraste and to the Maker for deliverance, but as she grew older, she decided that while she would keep her faith, she would not wait for divine intervention, but would act on her own behalf.”

“Stop!” Aloisia said, the one word a harsh, abrupt command. “Sorry, but… A small detail, but an important one. My Master was a woman, though the title was still ‘Master,’ not ‘Mistress.’ I am referring to my mentor to whom I was apprenticed, but I was still no more than a tool to be used and discarded at the right time. Those who claimed ownership of me in my youth are inconsequential by comparison. For the story to stick, make the Master a woman. And if you need a name, then let that name be Zash.”

Josephine had the good grace to look embarrassed. “I am sorry that you felt the need to share that with us. All the same, it is good that we get the details down properly,” she said, making a note with her quill. “Following from before, Aloisia was used to a lifetime of manual labor, and it had built her body into the weapon she needed to free herself. She organized the other slaves in secret. She had those with well-built bodies get into ‘scuffles’ from time to time, which were in reality practice for the combat that would inevitably come to pass. And she tasked those with more subtle wills in positions closer to their enslavers to be her eyes and ears.

“Over time, Aloisia learned her Master’s favorite tastes, and as she grew into a woman, she began to catch her eye. One day, she commanded Aloisia to serve her in a way best not spoken of aloud. But Aloisia had planned for this moment, and as she killed her Master when she was most vulnerable, the other slaves killed the guards, either with their bare hands or with special poisons that these very slaves had been ordered to deliver to the Master’s enemies before.

“They took up arms under Aloisia’s leadership and walked South to freedom. When they reached the Free Marches, they went their separate ways. But with Aloisia went her lover, Lara Kenobi, who had been by her side for years in slavery. Now in freedom, they could finally be truly together. They meant to travel across the Waking Sea to Ferelden, but on their present course, that meant passing through Kirkwall.”

“I’m sorry,” Lana’s spirit interrupted. “But what sort of name is Lara Kenobi, honestly?”

“I don’t know,” Aloisia thought back with a mental smile. “’Lara’ is close enough, and they just rearranged the letters in ‘Beniko,’ nothing more. I can remember it easily enough, at least.”

“I suppose there is that, it’s just… Forgive me this irrational moment, but ‘Kenobi’ just sounds so… So Jedi, doesn’t it? More than that, it’s an unnecessary complication. What if someone hears you mutter my name in your sleep and starts asking questions”

“You’re never going to let me forget those moments, are you?” Aloisia thought back, smiling as she did.

“Lady Kallig?” Josephine said politely, bringing Aloisia out of her reverie.

“My apologies,” she said quickly. “The name you chose for my lover reminded me of something, and I must ask that you not choose an alias for her. Unless there is another Lana Beniko – or another Lara Kenobi, I suppose – who you can track with actual records, then adding one more thing for me to possibly forget in the heat of the moment is simply adding complexity for complexity’s sake. My last spymaster would never have made such a decision. No offense intended, Sister Leliana, nor to you Josephine.”

“No apologies are necessary,” Josephine assured her as she shot a small grin at Leliana. “I believe that this particular detail can be left to your discretion. Unless there are any objections?”

Aloisia caught Leliana’s gaze, and there was a silent and barely perceptible nod of understanding. Leliana was the only one who knew that Lana herself had been Aloisia’s old spymaster, so she at the very least understood that the comparison between the two was just one more way of emphasizing how important Lana truly was to her. “I believe we can work with that,” was all that Leliana said. Her words were simple and direct, but without any bite or venom, thankfully.

Josephine let out a small breath, as if in relief, and then recomposed herself and looked back to her clipboard. “Very well, then. Back to the tale. Traveling to Kirkwall was a great risk, for Aloisia Kallig was a mage. Out of necessity, she had long ago learned to control her magic, lest her Master find out and use her for barbaric ends. Despite having full control over her power, and despite her lack of a staff, they felt it best not to linger in Kirkwall, where Templars were far stricter with their charges than in many other places. They had booked passage on a ship to take them to Ferelden, but as they made ready to depart, the heretic Anders destroyed the chantry, and a piece of debris from the explosion flew far enough and mortally wounded Miss Keno- Miss Beniko, that is.

“During her voyage across the Waking Sea, Aloisia heard stories of the conflict between mages and Templars, and by the time she had reached Ferelden, the Circles were in open revolt, followed swiftly by the Templars. During her time in slavery, Aloisia had come to understand the importance that magic not rule over man, but as she traveled as a free woman, she saw little evidence of magic being used to serve man at all. The mage rebellion made sense to her. Being denied even the opportunity to use their Maker-given gifts to serve the common good, Aloisia saw the Circles as slaves that were liberating themselves, just as she had done.”

“Just a moment,” Cullen interrupted. “Is this… Is this truly the direction we will be taking as the Inquisition? Officially, that is? A pro-magic stance in spite of all the obstacles we still face? Not to mention the very real dangers of possession?”

“That is, in fact, the official stance of the Inquisition,” Aloisia said as she turned to the Commander. “For too long, Thedas has been in a grip of fear of magic ruling over man, but mages have never even been given the chance to serve mankind. The Chantry has focused too much and for too long on one half of that verse while completely ignoring the other half. Our focus will not be freedom for all mages with no boundaries, but we will stand for integrating mages into society, to use their natural gifts to aid the people of Thedas however they can. That is no more or less than is permitted or expected of any other citizen. Or am I wrong?”

“It is certainly not an easy path,” Cassandra said. “It will make us many enemies. But if you have already decided upon this path, then I will follow you. I am hesitant, I confess, but I will give it a chance.”

Cullen shook his head, as if unable to truly accept what he was hearing. “Fine. I guess I’ll stay put just to make sure that when this all blows up in our faces, we’ll be ready for it.”

“That’s enough, Commander,” Aloisia said. The reprimand was clear. “You may speak your mind, but I will not tolerate insubordination disguised as fatalism. If you wear such intentions as clearly to your troops as you do now, then we will not have a loyal and capable army. Do better, Commander, and consider that an order.”

Cullen shook his head before hanging it. “You’re right, Lady Blade. I apologize. My personal views will not affect my work, I promise you.”

“Very well,” Aloisia said, willing to accept that for the time being. “Please continue, Josephine.”

“As you say, Lady Kallig,” the ambassador said, clearing her throat before proceeding. “With the destruction of Kirkwall’s chantry, the deaths of the innocents inside, and the chaos that followed, Aloisia came to be reminded exactly why magic was so feared in the first place outside of the Imperium. She resolved then and there to uphold the commandment that magic be used to serve man. And so, she began her magical studies in earnest. Being mostly self-taught, she never learned how to use a staff, and her spells took shape in ways that Circle mages had little if any experience with.

“On the road to Denerim, Aloisia found herself harried by bandits, who she defended herself against with magic. And then she was set upon by Templars who asked no questions, and she was forced to defend herself again. She took up a steel blade to travel more safely. And then desperate mages attacked what they thought was a simple swordswoman.

“Arriving in Denerim wounded and bloodied, Aloisia sought healing in the Chantry, and then went to search for proper armor. A dwarven merchant, once a servant of House Aeducan of Orzammar, caught her eyes with his wares. She asked for armor that would protect equally against both weapons of steel spells of the Fade, and he had one such set of armor in stock. Someone had made it to resemble the finest works of Orzammar, and while the runes were not truly Dwarven, the metal was unlike any other the merchant had ever seen either under or above the ground.

“The merchant knew the armor’s great worth, and so Aloisia spent several months in Denerim doing work for the Chanter’s Board, hiring on to protect supply shipments for refugees displaced by the growing conflict, and helped many such refugees find safe homes for themselves. She finally earned enough to pay for the armor, and she personally painted the runes orange to match her hair. Andraste’s personal tale had inspired her to free herself from slavery, and she wanted to evoke an image of holy fire in honor of the Maker’s Bride.

“Among the merchant’s other wares, a pair of strange metal cylinders caught her eye. The merchant had never been able to figure out what they were, but they called to Aloisia, so he gave them to her as an offering of good will. Aloisia felt it fitting that they came in a pair. One would be her own, and the other she would carry in memory of her departed lover.”

“Really?” Aloisia said with a wry grin. “We need to explain away not only my weapon, but my armor as well?”

Leliana chuckled in return, though without mirth. “When you are dubbed ‘the Blade of the Maker’ due to the weapon you wield, then yes, that needs to be explained. As for the armor, it is unique enough to stand out, and since you refuse to be fitted for more standard protective gear, this part of the tale is needed. It will paint a vivid image of you, so that any who see you will recognize the Blade of the Maker, even if they have never seen her before. Do share what comes next, Josie. You can’t leave us in suspense, after all.”

“Oh, hush,” Josephine playfully scolded her friend before continuing. “And so, Aloisia began to travel through Ferelden, generally avoiding the larger cities and instead helping out the residents of smaller towns and other fellow travelers. Despite her best efforts to help, people still feared her magic. And Aloisia found it hard to blame them, especially now that some mages had turned to violence. So one night, Aloisia prayed for guidance, and an answer came to her as she slept. In her dream, she saw a woman who spoke to her about the two metal cylinders. The woman took the metal apart and showed Aloisia that each of the cylinders had a lyrium crystal at its core.

“When she awoke, Aloisia opened the two cylinders. Surely enough, there were the lyrium crystals. Wondering if Andraste had appeared to her in a dream, or if had simply been some fevered imagination, Aloisia let her faith guide her and prayed over the two crystals, which then began to glow. After putting them back together, Aloisia channeled her magic into the cylinder she had chosen to represent her beloved, and a blade of crimson light sprouted forth. In that moment, Aloisia understood the red blade to represent the real, living cost of warfare, and to never forget what had happened to Lana Beniko and countless others due to pointless war.

“When she lit her own blade, it glowed a bright orange to match her hair and her armor. It was a blade of fire. Aloisia did not know what to make of this. It seemed like a legend come to life: Archon Hessarian’s blade of mercy made of real, almost living fire. Aloisia wanted very much to believe that it was a sign of divinity, for who would not leap for joy at being chosen by the Maker?

“But Aloisia was wise and humble, and knew that she should not presume to know the Maker’s will. She would rely on her steel blade and her Maker-given magical gifts to protect people, and she would only ever bring her sword of fire to bear if it was truly necessary.

“For the next few years, Aloisia wandered in quiet obscurity, working hard and thanklessly to change people’s views about magic. When King Alistair granted sanctuary to the mage rebellion, Aloisia thought carefully before joining them. Eventually, she decided that she needed to gain a more formal education about magic from those who had grown up in Circle towers, and so she spent six months living in Redcliffe among such people.

“When Divine Justinia called her Conclave, Aloisia went to Haven to protect the delegation of her fellow mages. According to echoes from the Fade in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, depicting the events just before the Breach, Aloisia Kallig drew her sword of fire in defense of the Divine. Then the Breach exploded into being. And after stepping out of one of the rifts into the Fade that had formed in the Breach’s wake, her left hand was marked with the power to seal the rifts. A woman was seen behind Aloisia on the other side of the rift, but her identity… Well, enough people have already made up their minds that it was Andraste, and from what I have gathered, Lady Kallig, you would not want us to encourage such rumors.”

Aloisia gave it some thought. “Don’t comment on it either way,” she decided. “If the word is out there, then it will spread. If the people come to their own conclusions, they will have far more weight than if we try to tell them what to think. I’ll let my actions help lead them to an opinion that works in our favor. Whether or not Andraste was watching over me, what I do in the waking world is what will matter.”

Josephine spared a quick look at Leliana, who nodded her head in quiet affirmation. “As you say, my Lady. Now then, during the battle just after the explosion at the Conclave, Aloisia brought her sword of fire and light to bear on a Pride Demon, slaying it in the process. With a gesture from her marked hand, she closed the first of the rifts, and in the process she stopped the Breach from growing any larger. When she awoke three days later, she vowed to close the Breach and to help the people of Thedas as best she could in these trying times.”

Josephine took a moment to breathe after her lengthy telling of the story, and Aloisia gave it a few minutes of careful thought now that it had been told in full. “It’s a good story, for the most part, though I have a few concerns,” Aloisia said at last, now that the story was out there. “Are there any Tevinter nobles who we can point to as an actual culprit? One who is low enough in the Imperium’s social stratum that it won’t draw attention? Or is this supposed Master not actually a noblewoman or a magister, but simply a petty woman – maybe a wealthy merchant – who dreams of ascending to the nobility?”

Leliana beat Josephine to answer. “I’ll look into such options, but we will have to be careful. Perhaps a traveling merchant could have met her end on the road without anyone the wiser, but we would have to account for an opulent lifestyle while on the road… Never mind. These are details that we can and will flesh out and have ready for any who might go seeking answers. I’ll have to speak with you about the climate and terrain of Thedas between the Imperium and Redcliffe so that you can answer such questions readily.”

Aloisia nodded her assent, very pleased that her new spymaster was taking the initiative in the right ways. To manage a spy network with the most rapid means of transportation being a beast of burden, and the quickest way to deliver messages being trained birds… It was remarkable that it worked as well as it did.

“Indeed, it is impressive,” Lana agreed. “All the same, she is a cunning and ruthless woman. Please be careful, beloved.”

“Oh, I will, Lana,” Aloisia replied. “But lest we forget, I fell madly in love with a cunning and ruthless woman, mostly because that was not all that there was to her. Let’s just hope that she truly wants to work for the common good, as we both still do.”

Aloisia almost felt Lana sigh. “I trust you, Aloy, but I will stay vigilant on your behalf. I’d be a terrible wife if I did anything less.”

Returning her attention to Leliana, Aloisia stood up a bit straighter. “Very good. One other thing sticks out to me. The terrorist attack in Kirkwall seems to have been a watershed event not only for Thedas, but for the Blade of the Maker. I would like to speak with people who were there, personally, when the attack took place so that I might better understand the present conflict as well as being able to answer any personal questions.”

“I was there,” Commander Cullen said quietly. “Maker help me, but I was there for all of it. Maybe if I had done something sooner, I could have stopped things from going as far as they did. But going forward, I can answer any questions you might have. Varric could also tell you about his own experiences, but I’d take what he says with a grain of salt. He is a storyteller, and he does like to embellish things. He wrote a novel about the Champion of Kirkwall, and while a great deal is exaggerated, many other things are cold, hard truths.”

“I will definitely talk at length with you and Varric, as well as any other survivors of Kirkwall we may have here at Haven,” Aloisia said with a rueful smile. “Another thing: Varric’s crossbow, Bianca. I have yet to see another like it, and it is so far the most technologically advanced thing I have yet to come across here in Thedas. If there is the slightest opportunity we can make more weapons like it, we will have a decisive advantage. Seeker Cassandra, for better or for worse you interrogated him. If he let anything slip about the origins of that crossbow, coordinate with Sister Leliana and see if you can look into finding anyone who can help find schematics for anything similar. If I thought we could deconstruct Bianca without permanently disabling it, then we could do so, but I don’t think we’re there yet. Can you do that?"

“I will discuss what he told me with Leliana. But before we leave this greater matter of your story to rest,” Cassandra said, her voice turning hard-edged, “this tale surrounding your ‘origins’ not only explains your sword of fire, but it also creates a second, similar weapon to explain why you carry two such things. What is the truth behind these weapons? So many will see a sword of fire and think it to be a sign of divine intervention. While the Maker often works in ways we do not understand, I would hear your own account of these weapons.”

Aloisia turned to look Cassandra in the eye as if to say, ‘Yes, I understand your concerns.’ “It is a question worth asking. After all, the title ‘Blade of the Maker’ itself comes from that very weapon. But before I answer your questions in full, I need a moment to meditate. This is no small matter to me, and I ask but a few moments. I promise it won’t take long.”

So saying, Aloisia knelt on the hard stone floor, clasped her hands together and interlaced her fingers with each other, and closed her eyes. “You know I’m not meditating, Lana. But if I’m to explain the truth of our lightsabers, they will almost certainly want to see yours as well as mine. May I have your permission to hold it and ignite it? It would be brief, and I would never use it as my own unless I was somehow robbed of my own lightsaber, and only then with your consent. But this is important. I can’t get this wrong, for our sake.”

Lana simply chuckled in response. “Aloy, my dearest, you are being overly dramatic. Did you not fall in love with me because I did what needed to be done, regardless of personal feelings? This is necessary for you to do, so of course you have my permission. And if ever – stars forfend – you should lose your own weapon, then of course you may use mine in its stead. I fear I must confess that your concerns about consent always struck me as overly idealistic and as potentially an obstacle in the way of getting things done.”

“I remember us having this talk before, beloved,” Aloisia said as her lips turned slightly upwards. “You also said that those very ideals were part of what drew people to the Alliance, part of why they saw it as a force for good. And unless I am misremembering, it’s also something you found appealing about me.”

“All of that is true, my love,” Lana answered. “It is part of who you are, and I wouldn’t have you change it for anything. So if it helps you feel at ease, you have my permission to do what you must. I followed you to my death, and I’ll continue to follow and support you now and forever more.”

“I love you, Lana.”

“And I love you too, Aloy.”

The mental exchange took but a few moments in the world outside of Aloisia’s mind, but she allowed herself a display of meditating for a few more minutes before she opened her eyes and got back to her feet. “All right. Thank you for waiting. Yes, I have two such weapons in my possession, but only one is truly mine. The heart of these weapons is a crystal of what you know as lyrium. I know it by a few different names, but lyrium is as good a name as any. For these weapons, however, there is more than mere possession too make it truly yours. Lyrium is alive in a way I don’t fully understand, but it is as attuned to the Force as any Sith or Jedi.

“My one-time mentor gave me her old lightsaber – that is the proper name for the weapon – as a gift to commemorate my formal induction as her apprentice. But that was not enough. It served me well enough for a time, but when my travels took me to a world called Ilum, I went on a pilgrimage to the crystal caves, seeking a crystal that would speak to me, that would truly be mine. After much searching and meditation, I found one such crystal. The bond between a crystal and its bearer determines the color of the blade. I did not choose it to be the color of fire. In a way, the lyrium chose that for itself.

“You have seen me wield my lightsaber. This other one,” Aloisia said with care as she unhooked Lana’s lightsaber from her belt. “This one was built by my wife. Her original blade was also the color of fire, but she lost it during her search for me while I was imprisoned. She built a new weapon, and this is it.”

With a flip of a switch, Aloisia ignited Lana’s crimson blade, holding it straight up to avoid harming anyone. “I can wield it as a last resort if I must, but it is bound to Lana’s will, just as my lightsaber is bound to me. I keep it more as a personal memento than anything else. Typically, the only way to separate a Sith or a Jedi from their lightsaber is with death. Some depraved individuals keep the weapons of their victims as trophies. I simply carry this blade to remember my beloved, nothing more.”

Shutting off the lightsaber, Aloisia hooked it back onto her belt. She forced herself to remain impassive, to appear above the petty emotions that were threatening to bring her to tears. She had to appear at her strongest right now. “As for my armor, I did buy it, and I did paint it. The similarity to dwarven runes is entirely coincidental, just in case anyone was wondering.

“Does that sufficiently answer your question, Seeker Cassandra?” Aloisia asked.

The Seeker’s face was inscrutable, but Aloisia sensed that she was deeply pensive. “I do have more questions, but the one that I asked has been answered to my satisfaction. And those other questions are not so urgent as to delay the business of the Inquisition.”

Aloisia smiled a warm smile that reached all the way to her eyes. “Excellent. Now that we finally have these pesky details out of the way, what is the business of the Inquisition? How do we close the Breach? I can’t do it alone, I don’t think, even with this mark.”

“Solas has been forthcoming with his expertise,” Leliana volunteered, and Aloisia was immediately attentive. The mysterious man was definitely an expert, but she wasn’t entirely sure of his motivations. For now, she would keep him close and observe him. “He believes that adding more power to your mark may be enough to close the Breach. For that, we would need the help of the Mage Rebellion.”

“I have to disagree,” Cullen said. “The Templars would be a better fit for this problem. Their training focuses on suppressing magic. We need to douse this fire, not make it hotter.”

“Regardless, we don’t have nearly enough influence to approach either side at this time,” Josephine said. “Our best move would be to approach the Chantry for an official endorsement, or at least as many endorsements as can be given without a Divine. Despite Chancellor Roderick’s message of cautious optimism, some are calling you – a mage – the Blade of the Maker. This frightens the Chantry. Most of the remaining clerics have declared it blasphemy, and we heretics for harboring you. That being said, Roderick’s words have opened a few, more liberal clerics to the possibility of acceptance. Not many, but hopefully that will change with time.”

“Thankfully, an opportunity has presented itself,” Leliana said. “One such open-minded Chantry cleric – Mother Giselle – has written and asked to meet with the Blade of the Maker personally. She understands the dynamics of Chantry politics better than any of us, and is personally familiar with the clerics most vocally opposed to you. She is currently assisting refugees in the Fereldan hinterlands near Redcliffe. Perhaps if the Blade of the Maker were to be seen helping those affected by the chaos at the same time, you could make a favorable impression on both Mother Giselle and those she is trying to help. That will get word spreading, and the Inquisition’s influence will begin to spread.”

Aloisia nodded and stretched her arms above her head. “Excellent. Get me a map, and if we have any scouts in the area, set up a meeting. Cassandra, I’ve fought alongside you before, along with Varric and Solas. If the three of you would accompany me, we would be best served by both numbers and varying viewpoints.”

“Very well, Lady Blade,” Cassandra replied, her voice and her feelings full of resolve. “We will go together to the Hinterlands.”

Chapter Text

A full week had come and gone since the Breach had formed in the sky. A week had passed since Solas had lost his orb, and with it, his chance to save the People from their current, pitiful state. One week had passed since a human woman had been marked by his orb, her very presence threatening to change everything.

As Solas walked at the rear of the four-person group – Aloisia had taken the lead with Cassandra, with Varric keeping pace with Solas himself – he pondered all that he had learned in the previous week. Most striking of all was the woman who was now being heralded as the Blade of the Maker, the title most likely stemming from her strange weapon. He had only been partially truthful when he had compared her blade of fire to an arcane warrior’s blade. The latter drew upon the Fade, but Aloisia Kallig truly did wield a blade of some sort of fire hot enough to burn through a Pride Demon’s hide with ease. He could feel the lyrium in the hilt, but apart from that, he couldn’t detect any hint of enchantment.

Supposedly, the hilt he had not seen her using had belonged to her dead lover, and it was supposedly a blood-red blade that would burn just as hot as the orange one. Solas was not convinced that Aloisia Kallig’s lover was truly dead. More than that, he suspected that ‘Lana Beniko’ was a human name given to hide the entity’s true nature as a spirit, for he had been sure that some presence other than Kallig herself was keeping watch from within the Blade of the Maker.

The implications of a human of any kind trusting a spirit to such a degree was remarkable in itself. More than that, however, was how Aloisia Kallig positively glowed compared to the dull, muted golems all around her. How ironic, that in a world where all races – including the People themselves – seemed to Solas as barely more than how a Tranquil would seem to the pale imitations that walked the world today, a human woman could shine with a brilliance that marked her as so definitively real. The very notion was dangerous to consider. If a human could seem so real, when his own kin did not, then what did that say about his plans to restore the world of the Elvhen as they once were?

She was wary of him, he could tell. While Solas yearned to learn more about the Blade of the Maker – what kind of person she was – he could do very little without drawing immediate suspicion to himself. All the same, he feared that Aloisia was already on guard against him. To be fair, she seemed to be a guarded woman by nature. She was a good listener, but she carefully avoided speaking too much of herself.

It had not escaped Solas’s notice that they had only departed for the Hinterlands until the leaders of the Inquisition had settled upon what they would be telling the common populace about the Blade of the Maker. Surely, a hero had to seem heroic, but the amount of time involved suggested that Kallig’s true nature was far more than what most people suspected. How could she not be something more, when she was so much more tangible, so much more real, than anyone else in the world save for Solas himself?

No, there was one precedent for a being such as Aloisia Kallig. During both his time in uthenera and since waking up a year past, Solas had learned that Mythal had managed to survive by merging with a human woman named Flemeth, and the two had been one and the same for several centuries, at least. Could a wisp of one of the ancient Elvhen have taken shelter within this woman now leading the Inquisition? And if that was the case, could she possibly be an ally of his cause?

It was entirely possible that even if Aloisia Kallig had no connection to the People at all, she could still be helpful to not only to them, but to all oppressed peoples. She had made it very clear that while the Inquisition was formed by the Andrastian Chantry, it would stand for everyone. In every instance that Solas had observed of her interacting with others, she paid little to no attention to such things as race, gender, or social class. The only times when she had been anything other than polite and conciliatory had been when she had confronted authority figures who had stood in the way of the progress she sought to make.

That being said, she had wasted no time in asserting herself as the leader of the fledgling Inquisition. Solas had been right there as she had ignored Chancellor Roderick and assumed command of Sister Leliana and her forces as if they had been hers all along. The Nightingale was a formidable woman, for a human, but she had immediately agreed to Kallig’s demands. She had voiced her displeasure, but the very act placed Leliana beneath Kallig in the chain of command when she was still a suspect for the Divine’s murder.

For all her impressive willpower, Solas was admittedly disappointed with her displays of ‘magic,’ though he knew he shouldn’t be. While he could see in her the potential for a mage of tremendous power, Aloisia Kallig seemed to consciously avoid drawing on the Fade to fuel her spells. The way she moved objects by force of will was reminiscent of Solas’s ancient ancestors, back when they were still discovering downright primitive ways to affect the world around them. Perhaps she never did learn how to use a staff, but such crude manipulation of objects as she had displayed was disappointing to see in one with such potential, but at the same time it reinforced his theory that she was one of the People – older even than himself – in some form or another. Or perhaps she had simply learned from one such individual.

All the same, the implication of her not-magic – Solas had not forgotten how Aloisia herself didn’t refer to it as such – simply existing without calling on the Fade was not something to be ignored. Even the oldest of the Elvhen had lived in a world where the Fade and the waking world where one and the same. To see anyone, let alone a human, affect the world at all without even touching the Fade… It was simultaneously disturbing and remarkable. Whether or not it could be properly be called magic, it was something that Solas had never witnessed before, and a new discovery of any kind was typically a treasured experience. A pity that he felt so conflicted over this one.

In the end, Solas couldn’t deny that Aloisia Kallig was a remarkable woman, for a human. She could be an incredible ally, but her fierce willpower would be just as much an obstacle as it would be a boon. Learning about her, convincing her of the rightness of his cause… And all of this while concealing his involvement in the Breach, all the while lying to her… It would take a great deal of effort, but the Dread Wolf never did anything by halves.

The trek through the mountain passes down into the Hinterlands was a long and tiring one, but at the very least it was familiar. Aloisia remembered taking this very same path on her way to the Conclave from Redcliffe, and while the journey had taken several days, certain landmarks were beginning to seem familiar, and she knew that the rendezvous point with Leliana’s scout wasn’t far.

“This way,” she called to her companions. “Unless I’m very much mistaken, we’re almost there.”

“About damn time,” Varric said. “Say what you will about Kirkwall, but at least it was easy to walk from place to place without worrying about tripping over roots or random oversized rocks.”

“So, you’re a city boy, is that it?” Aloisia teased.

“You’d better believe it,” Varric answered proudly.

“I’ve always been a wanderer. Never settling down in one place for too long,” Aloisia replied, hoping to take everyone’s minds off their aching legs. “I get that same feeling from you, Solas. Or am I wrong?”

“You are not wrong, Aloisia,” he replied evenly. “This world is full of so many wonders, so many of them off the beaten path. I wouldn’t trade such a journey for anything.”

“To the discovery of wonders, then.” On that much, at least, Aloisia could agree with the elf. Her life would have been one of studying ancient secrets, solving puzzles, and uncovering mysteries of the Force, if only fate had taken her down a different path. “And what of you, Seeker Cassandra? In what sort of place do you feel most at home?”

“In a world at peace, where people accept their differences without violence and hatred. And where the truth is plain for all to see, with lies not being tolerated. Perhaps that is not the answer you were looking for, but my ‘home,’ as you put it, is on the path to bring about that better world.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Aloisia said before coming to a halt as something tickled her mind. There was a presence nearby that she could feel in the Force. It felt expectant. Assuming it was Leliana’s scout, Aloisia let out a series of whistles that was the agreed upon signal.

Emerging from a hiding space in some foliage, a dwarven woman emerged. She had short, light brown hair done up with a bun in the back. “The Blade of the Maker,” she said without awe or fear or anything other than polite and professional acknowledgment. “I’ve heard the stories. Everyone has. We know what you did at the Breach. I’ve heard that you’re a mage, even if I don’t see a staff. That might set some people on edge, but you’ll get no backtalk here. That’s a promise.

“Inquisition Scout Harding, at your service,” she introduced herself. “I – all of us here – we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

“At ease, Scout Harding,” Aloisia said before Varric could get in the word she sensed at the front of his mind. “First things first: I like to know who I’m working with. Is Harding your full name, or do you have a given name or surname as well?”

Scout Harding evidently hadn’t been expecting that. “It’s, uh… Lace. Scout Lace Harding, at your service, Lady Blade,” she said nervously. “We should get to business, though. The situation’s pretty dire.”

“Understood,” Aloisia replied with a small grin. Scout Lace Harding had her priorities straight at least, and Aloisia found herself admiring the woman. She was calm and professional, and not afraid to set her superior onto a more proper topic of conversation. “What can you tell us about the situation here in the Hinterlands, Scout Harding?”

“We came to secure horses from Redcliffe’s old horsemaster,” she said. “I grew up here,” Harding said, and Aloisia thought she heard Harding’s voice crack just a little bit. It was good to see that despite her professionalism, she was still a woman with the same wants and fears as anyone else in the world. Being grounded with empathy was what the Inquisition would need to be what everyone hoped it would be.

“People always said that Dennet’s herds were the strongest and the fastest this side of the Frostbacks. But with the mage-Templar fighting getting worse, we couldn’t get to Dennet. Maker only knows if he’s even still alive. As for Mother Giselle, she’s at the Crossroads helping refugees and the wounded. Our latest reports say that the war’s spread there, too. Corporal Vale and our men are doing what they can to protect the people, but they won’t be able to hold out for very long.”

“I see,” Aloisia said. “Unless there’s anything else, I have just one question. Is there anywhere in the Hinterlands that is not consumed by chaos and conflict?”

“I’d imagine that Redcliffe itself is fairly calm. The rebel mages have mostly stuck to helping their own inside the town proper. The mages fighting out here are just looking to indulge their newfound freedom with as much chaos as they can wreak. The actual mage rebellion has washed their hands of them. Did you have any other questions, my Lady?”

Aloisia shook her head. “Not at this time, Scout Harding. We’ll move to secure the Crossroads and establish a base of operations there from which we will coordinate relief efforts. After that, I’ll speak with Mother Giselle, and then we’ll seek out Horsemaster Dennet. Continue your prior duties, Scout Harding, and hopefully we’ll be able to bring some manner of peace to these people.”

“As you say,” Harding agreed politely. “Maker watch over you, Lady Blade.”

“And you as well,” Aloisia answered, wanting to be on Scout Harding’s good side. Leliana had chosen well when she’d recruited Lace Harding into the Inquisition’s ranks. Turning back to her comrades, she ushered them to follow her.

It was barely five minutes before Aloisia and her team found themselves in a middle of a chaotic melee between mages, Templars, and Inquisition soldiers, all the while innocent refugees were fleeing and taking shelter wherever they could.

“The apostates have gone mad with power!” Cassandra exclaimed.

“I see just as many Templars,” Solas countered.

They both had good points, and yet they both missed the point. Neither side was either fully to blame nor fully innocent. Aloisia did not bother drawing either her steel sword or her lightsaber. Instead, she reached out with the Force, concentrating for a few precious moments, and then she pulled.

Swords and staves flew out of their owners’ hands into a haphazard pile directly in front of Aloisia. Raising her right hand, she lifted the combatants up into the air and bound their limbs to their side. And as she held them in place, she took the opportunity to speak.

“That. Is. Enough!” she shouted, the Force lending an almost physical weight to her words. “Fellow mages, you are a disgrace to your cause. You have been treated terribly, it is true. But with freedom comes responsibility. Freedom does not mean that there are no consequences for your actions, and look at what you have done with your freedom. You have wrought havoc, sending innocent people running for their lives. You not only deny others the same freedom you desire, but you prove their fears to be justified and only make things harder for you and your fellows.

“And to you Templars, I say to you that you have shamed the cause you swore yourself to. You swore to protect the innocent from mages, and you swore to protect mages from a fearful populace and from themselves if the need arose. I see no protection here, no solemn duty. I see senseless slaughter of not only mages, but of anyone who catches your eye. Remember that magic is a Maker-given gift, but swords were made by mortal hands.

“Now then, each of you will vow to me to cease fighting and act like reasonable and decent people, or else you will die so that the innocents you threaten may know peace. Choose wisely, and choose quickly,” Aloisia said, making the last word sound like a threat.

A small few individuals on either side cried out for mercy and forswore violence, and Aloisia let them each to the ground slowly before releasing them from her hold. Those that stood there quietly or else moved away without seeking a fight, she let them go. The small few of those who made a mad dash for the pile of weapons found themselves lifted back up into the air and bound once again.

The majority, sadly, glared at Aloisia defiantly and hurled epithets at her. “Enough!” she shouted, the Force commanding them into silence. “’Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,’” she recited. “Through your actions, you have put innocent lives in danger. As a mage, I must uphold my solemn duty to serve the people and protect them from your reckless hatred. May the Maker judge you kindly should you find yourselves at his side.”

Without another word, Aloisia clenched her fist and snapped the necks of each of those she held in the air. Releasing her hold, several dozen bodies fell to the ground and collapsed, lifeless. And then she looked at those others who had not just been at her mercy. Every single person – from her own soldiers to the innocent refugees – looked at her with a small manner of awe and a great manner of fear. She would need to give them something to focus on that was not so terrifying.

“Inquisition!” she called, rallying her people to her side. “The chaos and the death has stopped. Now is the time to secure the Crossroads and to see to the wounded! Once our position is secure and all injuries have been tended to, speak to the people. Listen to their problems and aid them as best you can. Our mission is secure order and to restore peace. The people here have been through much, and they are scared. Be patient with them, and listen to their pleas. You are soldiers accustomed to hardship, but before you were trained and armed, you were just as vulnerable as anyone else. Remember that feeling of vulnerability, and let it bring forth empathy and sympathy for those in need. Let that be the Inquisition’s driving force: respect and care for our neighbors and for all those in need.

“You have your orders, Inquisition. For the good of all people, see it done!”

Aloisia’s soldiers responded universally with a familiar salute: one’s right fist over one’s heart. Content that the immediate crisis was past, she turned around to her three comrades, who still had their weapons drawn, each of them in various states of shock and awe. Only Solas looked calm on the outside, but she could feel his surprise in the Force. Aloisia was herself surprised. Even with the Force, such power and control as she had just displayed was incredibly rare. Was it because she was drawing on Lana’s spirit? Or had she truly grown so powerful that the Emperor’s interest in her was truly legitimate?

“Maker’s balls, Red! What the hell was that?” Varric exclaimed.

“It was a necessary and merciful gesture,” Solas replied with an even voice. “You showed great patience and restraint, Aloisia. Far more than I would have expected.”

“Thank you,” Aloisia said, her voice a bit distant. All the while, she was not sure if she should take Solas’s words as a compliment or else as an insinuation that he expected far less of her. “Cassandra? Are you all right?”

“What?” Cassandra seemed to force herself out of a stupor of some sort. “I… I have seen your magic before, Lady Blade, but never used against a living being. I must know… Was that blood magic?!”

Aloisia sighed, wondering at the fixation on how the Force was called upon rather than its effects. “To clarify what I did, I did not manipulate the blood within any of those people. What I did to them was no different than when I disarmed them. Just as I moved the weapons, I moved their bodies, and then their limbs. Their blood never stopped flowing as it normally does. Just as you once had me bound with manacles, they were bound by my will. Two different tools used to the same end. And unless I am mistaken, the Chant of Light does not define a ‘maleficar’ by use of blood magic, but rather by the use of magic of any sort to oppress and dominate others. So tell me, Seeker, am I a maleficar, or am I the Blade of the Maker? I do not believe that I can be both.”

Cassandra took a series of heavy breaths before finally hanging her head and sheathing her sword. “I will not lie to you, Lady Blade. Your display of power frightens me, and I have only your word that it is not blood magic. Despite all of that, Solas is right. You did show patience and restraint. I imagine that you could have easily killed all of those people instantly, but you took care to disarm them and restrain them before giving them a chance to renounce violence. Only when those remaining showed no signs of remorse or restraint did you take violent action. More than that, however…”

As the Cassandra’s voice trailed off, Aloisia sensed a very specific kind of turmoil under her calm exterior. “Speak freely, Seeker,” Aloisia gently ordered her. “What is on your mind?”

Cassandra sighed, and her face no longer held any fear or anger. “When you invoked the commandment that magic exists to serve man, and how you were upholding your duty as a mage in doing so… I know that you said it would be the Inquisition’s message, but to see it in action is more comforting than you may realize. For too long, that commandment has been used as a justification to sow fear of mages and to lock them up. For centuries, the Chanty has been so afraid of magic ruling over man that mages have rarely ever been given any chance to serve others as the Maker intended, just as you said. As a mage yourself, I imagine you would rather have the support of the mage rebellion than of the Templars. If you do recruit them, then I would urge you to keep making a rallying cry of magic serving man. It may be the best hope for peace, if it can be managed. But I would also caution you against such displays in the future. It looks very much like blood magic, despite your claims, and few things frighten people more than that.”

“I will most definitely heed that advice, Cassandra. I will heed all of it,” Aloisia assured her. “Now, the three of you: try to help out the rest of our soldiers while I find and speak with Mother Giselle. Once that’s done, we’ll make to seek out Horsemaster Dennet.”

With the Inquisition going about its work, Aloisia took a deep breath and walked down the main road, looking for a woman in a Chantry habit. As she walked, Aloisia let the Force wash around her in a wave of calm and peace in the hopes that anyone within a certain distance of her would find their fears lessened and their anger subsiding. It would be very difficult to help people who wanted nothing to do with her, and while mental manipulation was not something she did lightly, calming tempers was a far lesser evil than mental domination, or even suggestion.

Noticing a woman in the white and red garments of a Chantry mother, Aloisia made her way towards her, though she did so quietly so as to listen in to what was being said. “There are mages here who can heal your wounds,” the Chantry mother said to a wounded Inquisition solider. “Lie still,” she urged him.

“Don’t let them touch me, Mother,” he pleaded. “Their magic…”

“It is as the Lady Blade just reminded us, no? The Maker tells us that magic exists to serve man. And turned to noble purpose, their magic is surely no more evil than your blade.”

Before this farce could continue any longer, Aloisia walked up the few steps, the guards saluting her and making way for her as she passed. “At ease, everyone,” she said gently before crouching down next to the Chantry mother at the soldier’s side. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Lady Blade!” he exclaimed. “Please, don’t… Don’t…”

“It’s all right,” Aloisia said patiently. “What I did must have looked absolutely terrifying, I can imagine. You have only my word that it wasn’t blood magic. More than that, however, you have wounds in need of healing. And beyond a soldier of the Inquisition, you are a person in need. So lie still and remain calm. This will not hurt, I promise you.”

Closing her eyes and ignoring the soldier’s protestations, Aloisia moved her right hand over the wound that an arrow had left in his thigh, and she let the Force flow into his body, urging his cells to move faster to heal and close the wound and restore his strength to him. As she opened her eyes, Aloisia saw the flesh begin to knit back together and color return to his face.

Her work done, she looked the young man in the eye. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it? How do you feel?”

“It… It doesn’t hurt,” he said carefully, as if unsure what was proper to say. “I feel like I can move my leg again!”

“That you may,” Aloisia said with a smile. “All the same, take it easy. Better to be cautious rather than to rush back into the fray without a care. Let the healers make sure that you are fully well, be they magic or mundane. And should anyone do harm to you, to your healers, or to your protectors, then they will answer to me. By choosing to serve the Inquisition, you have chosen to serve the common good, and I will gladly welcome any with such nobility in their hearts. But you must also be humble and recognize others who also wish to help. Magic exists to serve man, and if you put your fear aside, then you may find mages willing to serve not only you, but also those you seek to protect.”

“I… Thank you, my lady. I ask your forgiveness for my outburst. I was just so scared-“

“Shh. It’s all right,” Aloisia said. “Fear is a normal and healthy emotion. It tells us when to act or when to flee to help us to survive. It is all right to be afraid, so long as you are the master of your fear rather than letting it master you. Now then, will you be all right if I leave you in the care of others?”

“Yes, I think so. Maker bless you, Lady Blade.”

“Maker bless you, as well,” Aloisia replied as she got to her feet. She turned to find the Chantry mother standing a short distance away, observing the exchange. “I take it that you are Mother Giselle?”

“I am,” the priestess said. Now that Aloisia had a good look at her, Mother Giselle was a middle-aged woman with dark skin and a lilting voice with an accent much like Sister Leliana’s as well as a number of Inquisition soldiers’. Orlesian, then. “And you are the one they are calling the Blade of the Maker,” Giselle said.

Aloisia didn’t miss that the Mother did not say one way or the other whether or the title was true or not. “I’ve been told that you asked to meet with me personally. I ran into a few delays, but here I am. What did you wish to discuss?”

“Walk with me, please,” the Mother said gently, and Aloisia fell in beside her. Whatever she had to say was clearly meant for Aloisia’s ears alone. “I know of the Chantry’s denouncement,” Giselle said, “and I am familiar with those behind it. I won’t lie to you. Some of them are grandstanding, hoping to increase their chances of becoming the new Divine. More are simply terrified in the wake of the tragedy at the Conclave. So many good people, senselessly taken from us…”

“I remember that horror,” Aloisia confessed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard this about me, but I was there simply as an escort for the leaders of the mage’s delegation. Things were already terrible, but from what little I knew of Divine Justinia, I was hopeful that the Conclave could end in peace. Instead, the Breach has sundered trust between people as much as it has damaged the Veil.”

“I had not heard that about you yet,” Giselle admitted. “But hearing you speak, and having witnessed you earlier with the mob, and just now with that boy, I believe that you wish to do right by Thedas. As to the Chantry and others who saw or will hear of your display of power, fear makes us desperate, but hopefully not beyond reason. Go to them. Convince the remaining clerics that you are no demon to be feared. They have heard only frightful tales of you, and despite the positive outcome of your intervention, they will likely hear more such tales. You must give them something else to believe.”

Aloisia stopped walking and turned to face Mother Giselle was a dangerous glare. “Am I to understand that you called me to meet with you only for you to advise me to attempt diplomacy? At the risk of sounding quite rude, I believe I could have come to that solution on my own.”

Giselle shook her head in the manner of a patient matron. “I do not mind that you are plain with your words. But allow me to be plain with mine in turn. I did not ask you to come here merely to tell you what you surely already know must be done. I did, however, fear that you might attempt to sway the clerics immediately, without first paying heed to the plight of the common people. In asking you here, I had two purposes. One was to offer my help. I will give you the names and positions of those in the Chantry who are sympathetic to you, of those whom you might yet sway, and of those who will never be swayed, either by fear or by ambition.

“The other was to make sure that you are worthy of the attention that is being placed upon you. Willingly or not, you bear a heavy burden, and if you prove yourself unfit to bear that burden, then it will not just be you that pays the price. All of Thedas may feel the weight of your actions. I can only hope that this weight will tip the scales in a better direction than where we are headed now.”

Aloisia felt her eyes widen involuntarily, and then allowed herself a wry grin. “I had no idea that Chantry mothers were so deft with politics. You make very good points, and I would be a fool to ignore your wisdom, Mother Giselle. Please forgive me my unkind words earlier, and thank you for your offer of aid. When you are ready, please travel to Haven and speak with Sister Leliana.”

“No apology is needed, my child. But if you feel you need forgiveness, then you may have it from me,” Giselle said kindly. “I will stay a short while and make sure that the good you have started is able to continue without my presence, and then I will make for Haven. And if you will permit me one more bit of advice: while a good leader will need to delegate, people will look to you as an example, and the more good you do, personally, the brighter your example will shine. Do not leave everything to those who serve you. What may seem like the smallest of good deeds to you might mean the world to those receive of your generosity and your aid.”

Aloisia nodded. “That is a lesson I have already learned, but it helps to be reminded of such lessons all the same. Go in peace and in safety, Mother Giselle.”

“Thank you,” Mother Giselle said with a polite nod of her head. “And may Andraste watch over you, Blade of the Maker.”

After several hours of travel, interrupted by skirmishes with renegade mages and overzealous Templars – not to mention several stops to catalogue landmarks as well as a growth of red lyrium to be quarantined – Solas couldn’t help but feel a small bit of relief when they arrived at Horsemaster Dennet’s farm and found the Horsemaster and his family to be unharmed. From what he heard of Aloisia’s brief discussion with him, Dennet was a good man who wanted to help, and his request for aid were entirely practical to secure passage for the mounts the Inquisition would need.

It was good work that needed to be done, but Solas was saddened to learn that part of making the way safe would necessitate putting down a pack of wolves that had become infected by the Blight. Solas would not hesitate to do so, for death was a mercy compared to the slow agony of the Blight. Even during the height of the Elvhen civilization, what was now called the Blight had been an unknown enemy that had been so dire as to bring together the most vain and selfish of the Evanuris to contain and seal it away. The only reason they hadn’t destroyed the Blight outright was that they simply did not know how to do it.

Solas would refuse to admit that it was impossible, but it was something that was simply not spoken of after it had been dealt with. To admit defeat would be too shameful for most Elvhen. Solas would have told everyone who joined him the truth about the menace, if he but knew what to tell them. For now, however, the corrupted lyrium had to be contained before it could spread, and any infested creatures had to be put down.

So it was that after they had marked points on their map for the construction of watchtowers, the group of four found themselves facing off against a pack of blighted wolves. Even in his weakened state, Solas was more than a match for them, and Cassandra and Varric were both more than capable fighters.

As for Aloisia Kallig, Solas found himself once again proven wrong. He had thought her use of magic to be lacking simply by nature of the spells she cast. But all he had seen before today had been in combat against demons. Against several armed and hostile men and women, Aloisia Kallig had shown restraint and patience even in the midst of a display of incredible power. ‘Crude manipulation’ he had thought of her magic, but she had proven her magic to be anything but crude. It was fine, precise, controlled, and remarkably merciful.

He also knew that despite outward appearances, she was being entirely truthful when denying her use of blood magic, but that was an irrational fear sprouting from centuries of Chantry propaganda. If she was to appear the hero, then she would need to restrict her use of such magic, and that was a shame. Her magic was glorious to behold, and to be shamed into hiding it was a disgrace.

But such were thoughts for another time. They approached the den of the wolves, and while wolves had always been cunning beasts that Solas had loved for a long time, the coordination with which they attacked betrayed the taint in their bodies. After a brief and bloody fight, the pack was finally dealt with.

While Cassandra took great care in cleaning her blade, and as Varric collapsed his crossbow to carry it better, Aloisia had not drawn a weapon at all, relying purely on her magic. She was looking around at the dead bodies of the wolves with a critical eye, as if looking for an answer to some unspoken question.

And then she spoke her question aloud. “Just what exactly is the Blight?” she said, addressing no one in particular. “And I’m not talking about the sins of ancient magisters, not what any superstition has to say, but simple truth and facts. What is it? How does it work? What does it want?”

Cassandra let out an all too common grunt of disapproval. “The Blight is a disease. It destroys everything it infects. Men and beasts go mad, plants become toxic, and the land itself becomes infertile. A plague does not want anything. It simply destroys.”

To her credit – and to Solas’s continuing surprise – Aloisia shook her head. “No, Cassandra. It might be a plague, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a will of its own. Those creatures fought as one coordinated unit. They were working as one. Even if this infection bound them together in a hive mind, the source of the infection would need to have an intent for its victims to work so cohesively. A normal plague would turn them against each other, but this one bound them together. And from what I’ve read about the recent Blight, the Darkspawn are not mindless. They are smart enough to plan attacks, craft weapons and armor, move in units with definitive rank and file.

“Solas, you have traveled far in the Fade, seen a great deal of history that no one else has. Do you have any unique insights into the nature of the Blight?”

Oh, how we wished he could be entirely truthful. The Blight was a danger to the entire world, but he couldn’t reveal his true past. “I know enough to tell you that I believe that you are thinking along the right lines, but I also know that my knowledge in this particular area is not enough to give you any more answers that would be more speculative than truly helpful.”

“Are you serious, Red? Chuckles?” Varric sounded genuinely afraid. “The Blight’s bad enough already, but now you’re saying that it’s not just a random force of destruction, but that it actually wants to destroy everything?! That’s just… Well, shit. That’s just twisted. You don’t sound crazy, but please don’t get mad if I don’t exactly want you to be right.”

“You don’t have to want it to be true, Varric,” Aloisia said, and her voice took on a sad warmth. “I only ask that if you find yourself faced with a truth that is so awful that you wish it were not true, don’t turn away from it. Painful truths can only be dealt with if you confront them. Wishful thinking is one thing. Denying the truth in front of you is the height of pride, arrogance, and stupidity. Small wonder that the Chantry considers pride to be the greatest of sins.”

Solas couldn’t help but feel personally rebuked, though he didn’t let it show on his face. Not that the Chantry’s opinion mattered to him one bit, but Aloisia Kallig’s opinion did matter, even about something as simple as the meaning of his name. And the realization that he cared what she thought of him was a frightening one.

“Come on, then,” the Blade of the Maker bade them. “Let’s go talk to our good Horsemaster. After that, we’ll return to the Crossroads and send a raven to Haven letting them know to set up watchtowers at the required locations. Then we’ll stay a bit longer in the Hinterlands and help out any stragglers too far away from the Crossroads or from Redcliffe. We may need to stay a few days to sort out as much as we can, and then we’ll return to Haven and plan our next move. Time to move out, people.”

And just like that, orders had been given. Cassandra – once Aloisia’s jailer – did not raise a single note of protest. Despite both of their misgivings, Cassandra and Varric had both accepted Aloisia Kallig as their leader. It was not hard to see why. She was forceful with her charisma, and she had an equal capacity for ferocity as for compassion, each directed where they were properly due. She was, in many ways, a remarkable woman.

He hoped that her true nature was something more than what she appeared, for it would truly be a pity if she was only human.

Chapter Text

~~Lana Beniko (deceased)~~

One of the first Jedi texts that Lana Beniko had ever read contained a certain passage on the nature of life. ‘We are not this crude matter,’ it said. It had been an inspired piece of wisdom that had helped to set Lana on her path of seeking knowledge, truth, and answers about the mysteries of the Force. She had never intended to become a person of importance, let alone the spymaster for Sith Intelligence, and later for the Alliance.

And yet, fate had led her to such places and beyond. Now she understood more than ever the truth that life was not limited by a physical form. Did she not still have her personality, her will, and an influence on the world around her? The last of these was limited by circumstance, lest she endanger her beloved, but it was strangely satisfying to learn so much about the Force only in death.

The Jedi Code taught its adherents that ‘there is no death. There is only the Force,’ but despite her current circumstances, or perhaps because of them, Lana found that view to be overly simplistic. Yes, there was death. And yes, the Force was part of everything. The two were not mutually exclusive. Simply existing in a state of life-after-death was an extraordinary learning experience.

All the same, only a few short months had passed since her mortal demise, and Lana couldn’t help but feel conflicted about her bond with Aloy. She knew that if she asked, her wife would release her without hesitation. She did not fear an overly possessive Aloisia Kallig, for such was not her nature. All the same, existing into mind but out of sight was proving more trying than she had thought it would be. She chastised herself silently for feeling surprised, for what should she have expected?

Despite the chance to explore new aspects of the Force that would have been impossible to observe while alive, existing solely in Aloy’s mind meant that she was forced to watch and observe while her beloved went about trying to fix this primitive world with a new council of advisors that were products of centuries of harmful superstitions that had finally come to reap the harvest of fear that had been sewn through history, part and parcel with those same superstitions.

More than those backwards superstitions – and bless Aloy for vowing to change all of that – were the physical threats remaining in the real world that most people only had stories to tell them about. The infected wolves that Aloisia had fought had carried a disease that was disturbingly similar to the Rakghoul plague, which itself had been artificially designed by one of the very first Lords of the Sith: Karness Muur. Perhaps even more disturbing than this plague infecting animals was that the sickly red Adegan crystals – known to Thedas as lyrium – seemed to carry the exact same disease. It was so clear to feel it in the Force, and calling it a plague or a disease felt like a lie. Aloisia was likely right that whatever the Blight was, it had a malevolent will of its own.

Even with all of her beloved’s ordeals, more than all the problems she had to deal with from the petty to the truly perilous, Lana’s own very personal insecurities were growing. She would never admit them to Aloy, not even in their shared dreams in the Fade when they had as much privacy as possible. She could not force her beloved to choose between Lana and the greater good. So many times, Lana had been willing to die for Aloisia Kallig. Now that she actually had, she was not sure if she liked the person that she was becoming.

All of Lana’s doubts and insecurities could be summed up with one word: Leliana. It would take a great deal of arrogance to deny that what Lana was feeling was anything other than envy, plain and simple and horrifically ugly. Objectively, truthfully, Lana knew that she simply could not be Aloy’s spymaster in this situation. The world and all its cultures were alien to her, and she had no network of any sort to call upon. She could offer advice and counsel to Aloy in the privacy of her mind, but beyond that, she was powerless.

Not only that, but the woman known as Sister Nightingale reminded Lana a great deal of herself. Cunning, ruthless, pragmatic, and still able to show empathy for others. More than that, Leliana believed in a cause greater than herself. The good of Thedas by way of the Maker’s will was what Leliana believed in, and it wasn’t too great a leap to compare that to Lana’s own wish for the good of the galaxy at Aloy’s behest.

So, yes. Lana was jealous that Aloy was forced to put her trust into Leliana more than anyone else in this world, even more than Lana herself. Though it was petty beyond reason, she was jealous that Aloisia had gifted Leliana one of the two holocomms that they had both had on their persons when they had crashed on this Force-forsaken world. The logical part of Lana’s mind knew that a leader and her spymaster needed to trust each other, that they needed to stay in contact with each other, and that certain secrets could only be entrusted to a person capable of great discretion who also had the ability to gather intelligence on the world around them. Leliana could fill that position while Lana could not.

All the same, the irrational, emotion-driven part of Lana’s psyche feared that she was being slowly replaced. Not only was Leliana incredibly intelligent and capable, but she was also remarkably beautiful as well. It wasn’t that Lana doubted Aloy’s fidelity. At least not yet. But Lana was secretly terrified that her envy would get the better of her sooner rather than later, and then she would begin to doubt, and that would only lead to ruin for herself, for Aloy, and for the world that her beloved had dedicated to save.

In truth, Aloy's faithfulness had never been in question, but Lana's private envy was being bolstered by a great deal of anxiety at the one time she had truly betrayed her beloved. It was a secret that she had literally taken to the grave and beyond, never having told Aloy the truth out of fear of what her wife's response would be. Shortly after Leontyne Suresh - once the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic - had tried to assassinate Aloy and seize the Alliance for herself, Lana had realized that she would need to be in more than one place at the same time. She would have to accompany Aloy on her missions, and she would have to manage the Alliance from its headquarters on Odessen. The solution was a body double, and she came in the form of one of Lana's most trusted subordinates.

The Chiss woman known as Aratania - formerly an Imperial Intelligence asset designated 'Cipher Nine' - had been a friend of Aloy's long before Lana had ever met her. Supposedly, they met on a very interesting shuttle ride that had brought the both of them to Dromund Kaas after Aloy had completed her trials on Korriban, and they had worked together on a number of missions since, not the least of which was a showdown with Revan himself on the Rakata space station known as the Foundry. Aratania's service to the Empire was exemplary, having managed to stop a renegade Dark Council member with nothing more than cunning, willpower, and carefully chosen words. Even outside of the Empire, if her face and name were not known, 'Cipher Nine' was a legend in the underworld and in the dark corners of the galaxy where spies operated.

Aratania had the technology to assume the voice and appearance of anyone she wanted, and she had the skills needed to manage the Alliance's operations in Lana's stead should the need arise. But Lana had insisted on one final test to ensure that the agent could truly convince anyone that she was Lana Beniko. The mission was to spend a night of intimacy with Aloy while pretending to be her lover, and it had worked. Aloy had been entirely convinced, but Aratania had been disgusted at having to deceive not only her friend, but someone she truly viewed as a decent person, which was rare in her line of work. The Chiss agent had demanded that Lana own up to her actions and confess to Aloy, and Lana kept saying that she would do so, only to put it off out of fear.

Now it was quite probably too late for such things. Lana and Aloy were both stranded on this primitive world, and any fears Lana might have about confessing the truth were compounded by her growing envy of this Inquisition's spymaster. It did not help that Lana was forced to accompany Aloy to every single meeting with Leliana. After almost two weeks spent in the Fereldan Hinterlands, they had returned to Haven. After yet another week and several meetings with both Aloy's full council of advisors and with her new spymaster alone, Leliana was now speaking to Aloy about a gathering of Chantry clerics in the Orlesian capital city, and she was urging her to take this opportunity to appeal to them.

Lana knew that she could always look through Aloy’s eyes and see if she was staring at her new spymaster, or she could separate herself and observe her beloved’s face from without while remaining invisible to all but Aloisia herself. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to do either of these things. The former felt like a violation of Aloy's privacy, and while there were few lines that Lana was unwilling to cross in Aloy’s defense, she had already betrayed her trust once, and she would never do so again. Alternatively, appearing visibly would only distract Aloy from doing what she needed to do.

Lana was quite simply afraid of what Aloisia’s answer would be if she were to confess her own worries - either about the past or the present - and that further scared Lana. While a healthy level of fear could help one to survive, it was not a large step to an unhealthy fear that dominated one’s conscience and drove otherwise reasonable people to unspeakable acts of desperation.

Lana knew that she had to master her fear before it was too late. For her own sake, for the sake of her beloved, and for the sake of this wretched world and its fate that rested upon Aloisia Kallig’s shoulders.

With the watchtowers in the Hinterlands finally completed, Haven had received its first shipment of mounts from Horsemaster Dennet, and the reactions of the soldiers seemed to light a fire in the hearts of the refugees, the merchants, and the townsfolk. Horses meant the ability to travel further and faster, and to in turn do the good work of the Inquisition quicker and more effectively. It was only a start, but a single spark could easily turn into a blazing inferno with the right kindling. For now, it was a much needed sign of hope.

Aloisia had not had time to stay and celebrate, however. After having spoken to her advisors collectively – and separately, alone with Leliana – Aloisia had decided to go to Val Royeaux to meet with a gathering of Chantry clerics. Cassandra had vowed to come along to protect her, and Aloisia decide to have Varric and Solas join her as well for strength in numbers.

As they rode down the long path from Haven to the Orlesian capital, Aloisia found herself wondering about a strange sense of turmoil coming from Lana of all people. Aloisia had been feeling horrible for not being able to give her wife the full attention that she deserved, but Lana would be the first to tell her to focus on the greater good above anyone’s personal needs. Alas, when they met in the Fade as they slept, Lana was evasive about the issue. Whatever was bothering her, Aloisia didn’t want to press the matter, especially in a realm where negative emotions could turn the very fabric of existence against them.

As they rode, Aloisia took her time to talk with each of her three companions individually and as a group. At some point during the last group talk, Varric had said something that had gotten under Cassandra’s skin, and now the two were bickering like an old married couple while ignoring Aloisia and Solas.

“They’re quite the pair, aren’t they?” Aloisia said to Solas. “How much longer until the wedding, would you imagine?”

Solas did not seem to be in a joking mood. “I highly doubt that anything real will come of this, for good or for ill. Varric delights in pushing Cassandra’s buttons, and Cassandra is too dedicated to the cause of the Inquisition to dabble in such distractions.”

Aloisia shrugged at Solas’s indifference. “I suppose that might be for the best,” she conceded. “We need to remain focused on the Breach. Until it’s sealed, everything else is secondary.”

“You are right to focus on closing the Breach as your primary focus,” Solas agreed, “but I also hope we might also discover what was used to create it. Any artifact of such power is dangerous. The destruction of the Conclave proves that much.”

Only years of practice allowed Aloisia to keep her face neutral. Once again, Solas proved to know more about the Breach than he should. How would anyone know that an artifact was the cause of the Breach unless they had some foreknowledge of said artifact’s existence? All the same, Aloisia had to play up his arrogance and let him think her none the wiser. “You don’t think that such an object was destroyed in the blast? You saw the damage just as I did, over quite a large radius.”

“You survived, did you not?” Solas said, as if talking down to a child asking a question with an obvious answer. “The artifact that created the Breach is unlike anything seen in this age. I will not believe it destroyed until I see the shattered fragments with my own eyes.”

So not only did Solas know that an artifact was responsible, but he knew its relative age, and he was implying that he knew its appearance well enough to recognize it by its fragments should it be destroyed. Solas may not have directly created the Breach, but he knew far too much about its origins for this to be merely coincidence.

“We would do well to recover any such object,” Aloisia said carefully. “In the wrong hands, it has already caused untold destruction. We must prevent it from doing further harm.”

“Leliana’s people have scoured the area around the blast and found nothing,” Solas said. “Whatever the artifact was, it is no longer there.”

“We’ll keep looking, all the same,” Aloisia promised him, but her mind was racing. If Solas had intended to create the Breach as it now appeared, then his efforts at helping the people, showing Aloisia how to seal rifts, fighting the demons at other rifts as they appeared, and working to help seal the Breach… It didn’t add up.

On the other hand, the tone of his voice as he stated his refusal to believe that artifact destroyed… Perhaps he had intended the artifact to be used in some way, and now he was trying to retrieve it? But to what end, and why? Solas was clearly remarkably dangerous, and very obviously involved with the Breach in some manner or another. His weakness was his arrogance. He loved to talk, so Aloisia would play along and ask him questions as an apprentice would ask her master. He was already underestimating her, or so it appeared. She couldn’t overestimate herself, lest she fall victim to whatever Solas had in mind.

The next couple of days passed in relative good-natured silence until the ringing of bells could be heard in the distance. Soon enough, the grandeur and opulence of Val Royeaux came into sight. White marble with gold decorations everywhere, it reminded Aloisia of Zakuul with its extravagant displays of wealth. Her first impression of the Empire of Orlais, the supposed greatest culture in all of Thedas, was decidedly disappointing.

After stabling their horses at the city gates, Aloisia led her companions into the city proper towards the marketplace square where the gathering of clerics was supposed to take place. All the while, the bells kept on tolling.

“The city still mourns,” Cassandra clarified, regarding the bells.

The class divide was almost comically easy to see. Those in plain clothing with bare faces walked past Aloisia with mild curiosity, while those in elaborate dress – all wearing a mask of some sort, generally covering the top half of the face – gasped and ran in panic. The nobles of Orlais would have been outright silly if they did not hold so much sway over those they viewed as lesser.

A look and a nod from Varric told Aloisia that it was not their armors nor their weapons that caused such an alarm. No, it was the knowledge that the ‘dreaded’ Inquisition had made its way to Val Royeaux. “As much as this seems like the perfect place to make as large a fuss as possible,” Aloisia said only half-jokingly, “let’s try not to do so for the time being. We’re here to be friends, yes? Indeed, we are. Do I sound convincing enough?”

“If it makes you feel better? Sure, you do, Red,” Varric said with a wink.

A woman in Inquisition scout gear ran forward from the market square to meet them before dropping to one knee in front of Aloisia. “My Lady Blade,” she said by way of greeting.

“At ease, agent,” Aloisia said. “What do you have to report?”

“The Chantry mothers await you,” she said. “But so do a great many Templars. People seem to think that the Templars will protect them from… From the Inquisition, my lady. They’re gathering on the other side of the market. I think that’s where the Templars intend to meet you.”

Cassandra’s outrage was palpable. “They wish to protect the people… From us?!”

“We knew we’d have a hostile welcome, Seeker Cassandra,” Aloisia reminded her. “What has me interested is that there are Templars here at all. I had thought the majority had gone rogue. Who among them remains here, I wonder?”

“The garrison of the White Spire cannot be completely empty,” Cassandra protested. “And I know Lord Seeker Lucius. I cannot imagine him coming to the Chantry’s defense. Not after all that has occurred.”

“I understand,” Aloisia said. “If all goes well, we may be able to gain some Templar support. Unlikely, but possible all the same.” Returning her attention to the agent, “Return to Sister Nightingale and report your findings. Also, please let my advisors know that our return may be slightly postponed. We’ll try not to take too long, but better to let them know, all the same.”

“As you wish, Lady Blade,” the scout said before taking off towards the city gates.

“Well, you heard her,” Aloisia said to her comrades. “We’re expected. It wouldn’t do to keep our hosts waiting, now would it? Let’s get this over with.”

They walked down a small street lined with statues of a man clutching his head in pain. A quick glance at one of the plaques told Aloisia that these statues represented Maferath. Andraste’s mortal husband who had grown jealous of the Maker and betrayed his wife to the Tevinter Imperium, this set of statues seemed to depict the traitor’s regret at his decision. Aloisia did not like to remember traitors in such a way. Any who were prepared to betray those who trusted them should have weighed their choices against their conscience beforehand and be prepared to deal with the fallout.

The small road opened up shortly into a circular marketplace with a statue in the center. On one side of the statue, a crowd of noblemen and women had formed, identifiable by their masks. As Aloisia rounded the corner, she saw a number of Chantry mothers on a small podium. A woman wearing armor emblazoned with the Lion of Orlais stood guard on the right at the food of the podium, and a man in Templar armor stood on the podium itself, just next to the mother who was speaking to the crowd.

“Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!” the mother proclaimed. “Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart silenced by treachery. Do you wonder what will become of her murderer? Well, wonder no more,” the woman said as her gaze fell upon Aloisia. “Behold, the so-called ‘Blade of the Maker,’ claiming to rise where our beloved fell. We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no Tevinter magister in our hour of need!”

The crowd rallied to the mother’s cries, eager to hear more about how evil Aloisia was, though clearly not ready enough to do anything about it. It was time to make her own voice heard. “Ah, yes. I was born in Tevinter, and I am a mage. Let’s not forget that I had to escape a life of slavery. Surely, the Magisterium accepts property into their ranks, yes?” Aloisia was grateful that Leliana had clarified what a ‘magister’ truly was. The mages at Redcliffe spoke with only a touch less ignorance about that particular matter than the Chantry mother denouncing her here and now.

“Putting all that nonsense aside, I follow the commandment that magic is meant to serve man. However I survived the disaster at the Conclave, however this mark came to be on my hand, all I know is that for some reason, I alone have the power to seal the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. Already, the Fereldan Hinterlands are beginning to stabilize thanks to the Inquisition’s relief efforts and the sealing of the rifts there. As a mage, it is my duty to use my Maker-given gifts to serve my fellow man. Yet here you are, condemning me for daring to try and save the world from chaos. What alternative do you offer, Revered Mother, save stoking the flames of fear and division while the Veil has been literally rent asunder?”

“It’s true,” Cassandra spoke up, clearly disturbed at the reception they were receiving. “The Inquisition only wishes to end this madness before it’s too late!”

As if on cue, Aloisia felt a dark and sinister presence approaching from her right side. She turned her head to see a crowd of Templars approaching the crowd. The lead Templar, however… Something was very wrong with him. His presence in the Force was nothing like the others here in the square. Though he looked to all appearances a middle-aged human man, he felt more like a demon of some negative aspect than anything else. And some of the Templars that followed him felt off as well. A few of them felt a touch similar to the blighted wolves and to the red lyrium, but the feeling wasn’t as keen.

A horrible thought occurred to her. Templars consume lyrium to gain their powers. What would happen if they were to consume the blighted version? Is this what I am sensing? If so, the corruption is still in its infancy, but it will grow, and it will do so all the faster if they keep consuming red lyrium. That is, assuming that is what is happening here.

For all that Aloisia perceived, the Chantry mother only saw allies in her tirade against the Inquisition. “It is already too late!” she spat at Cassandra. “The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this ‘Inquisition,’ and the people will be safe once more!”

They would most certainly not be safe if the cruelty coming from the senior Templars – not to mention the thing that led them – was any indication. As the leader walked up onto the podium and right past the Revered Mother, one of his subordinates walked right up behind her and made ready to strike her face with his fist.

She would have been knocked down and out had Aloisia not lifted her right hand ever so slightly and held the man’s armor in place with the Force. The Chantry mother hadn’t even seen it coming, and only the gasps of her flock prompted her to turn her head and notice the fist – halted centimeters from her head – with a gasp of her own. Looking at his unmoving arm, she turned her baleful gaze on Aloisia again. “Now you see the lies of this blood mage, plain for all to see!”

Aloisia held her head high. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about your would-be protectors who just tried to silence you. And if I was a blood mage, this young man wouldn’t be able to move his body. Watch as he moves his fingers and flails his legs about, free from any control. I have stopped only his armor, not his blood nor any part of his flesh. I thought it a worthwhile use of my Maker-given gifts to protect you from harm, Revered Mother. Should I have let him follow through on his attempted assault?

“And you,” Aloisia said with venom towards the leader of the Templars. “You condone this behavior? Was I mistaken about the nature of the Templar Order? Are you not protectors of the people? Defending the populace from magic and defending mages from themselves? Or are you just a gang of thugs, beating up holy women because you have no better way to make an impression?”

Only cold menace could be felt from all of the assembled Templars, save for the one who had been stationed on the podium at the start, presumably to protect the Revered Mother from any such attack. He was clearly confused as to what his superiors were doing.

The Templar leader made a deliberate effort to ignore Aloisia as he walked over to the lone Templar who had been guarding the Revered Mother. As if sensing his unease, the leader put his hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Still yourself,” he commanded. “They are, all of them, beneath us.”

The Chantry mothers cleared a path for the Templars, and Aloisia released the Revered Mother’s would-be attacker from her hold. As the Templars made to follow their leader away from the gathering, Cassandra followed as well. “Lord Seeker Lucius,” she addressed him to Aloisia’s surprise. “It is imperative that we speak with-“

“You will not address me,” the Lord Seeker said casually, though the cruelty Aloisia sensed from him made her doubt that this was the same man that Cassandra had once known. Given that he didn’t feel human, he was perhaps very literally not the same being.

At last, he stopped to face Cassandra. “Creating a heretical movement, raising up a mage as the Maker’s chosen. You should be ashamed,” Lucius said to her before turning to address the crowd at large. “You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!”

He raised an accusatory finger at Cassandra, not yet deigning to give Aloisia or anyone else a glance. “You are the ones who have failed!” he snarled. “You who would leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny here that demands respect is mine!”

Whomever or whatever this thing calling itself ‘Lord Seeker’ was, he had a gift for divisive rhetoric if nothing else. From the other Templars, Aloisia sensed only compliance and consent with the man’s words and wishes, save for the young, dark-skinned Templar who had been seeming to be doing his actual duty by watching over the gathering before his other fellows arrived.

Regardless, Aloisia had stood up to far more powerful, more influential, and more charismatic enemies in her years. She folded her arms in front of her, disdainful and unimpressed. “So you came here to do what, exactly?” she challenged him. “Did you come merely to harass the innocent and to forsake your responsibilities? As if that alone isn’t worthy of condemnation.”

“I came to see what frightens old women so. And to laugh,” the lord seeker said, his voice dripping with derision and mockery.

The young Templar who had not been part of the aggressive group came forward at last to speak his mind to his superior. “But Lord Seeker… What if she really was sent by the Maker? What if-?”

They were just then joined by the Templar who had tried to do harm to the revered mother. “You are called to a higher purpose,” he said to the younger man. “Do not question!”

It was exactly the wrong thing to say in a crisis, and Aloisia seized upon it. “’Do not question,’ you say? If now is not the time for questions, then when is the time? Faith is easy to keep in times of peace, but it is in times of crisis when our faith is tested. Fear and doubt are in everyone’s minds, and we all seek answers. Whatever the truth of the matter is, the Maker has gifted us all with the ability to reason and to learn about the world around us. Why would He give us such a gift if not to use it to question the world around us? No answers can be found without asking for them.

“The Chantry tells us that ‘blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.’” Aloisia rose her right hand and leveled it towards Lucius, pointing at him in accusation. “By your words and by the actions of your followers, you reveal your falsity. Peacekeepers do not seek out war. They most certainly do not seek to ‘purge’ anyone, deliberately disregarding guilt or innocence. Such a cause is not a just one, nor one worth championing. By showing violence towards the unarmed, and a willingness to show no mercy to any mage, you have revealed yourself as a champion of injustice!”

Taking a calculated risk, Aloisia stepped up onto the podium to get a clear view of the crowd. “If the leader of the Templar order has fallen so far, then it falls to all those beneath him in the Order to look within and follow their faith. And yes, to question said faith if necessary. If you are truly ‘called to a higher purpose,’ then be sure of that purpose, and let it be one that your conscience can live with. If you must follow a leader, then let that person prove themselves worthy of the mantle of leadership and of the trust of those under their command.

“You all have likely heard a lot about me,” Aloisia said to the crowd as a whole. “Some people say that I am Andraste reborn, to which I say that if that is so, then I am entirely unaware of such a thing. I make no claim to such. Some say that Andraste delivered me out of the Fade to be her herald. I think that I remember a woman, but I confess that my memories are vague and unclear. I cannot offer the certainty you no doubt crave. I wish I could offer you the answers you want to hear, but I can only offer the truth, and I pray that our collective faith is strong enough to accept it as such.

“Today, I am known as the ‘Blade of the Maker.’ I truly do not know if I was chosen for a holy purpose or not. All I know is that I was given the power to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake, and that I was also deemed worthy to wield this weapon in defense of the people of the world,” Aloisia said as she unclipped her lightsaber hilt from her belt.

“I do not know what will convince you that I am here to help, but I implore you to keep asking questions, no matter what. Act on your faith, but do not do so not blindly,” Aloisia implored the crowd. “And if your faith requires a sign, then perhaps this might be what you are seeking.” So saying, Aloisia grasped her hilt with both hands, held it high above her head, and ignited her lightsaber – her sword of fire and light – for all to see.

So far, the only person who had seen her weapon outside of battle had been Chancellor Roderick, and Aloisia hadn’t known if his reaction would be the exception or the norm. The crowd before her seemed to all gasp as one single entity, and then they had looked to each other as if for answers. Most of those gathered simply stood there in awe, likely unsure of what to think. A very few walked away in shock or else in fear, and a few more than that actually fell to their knees and began to pray.

Holding her lightsaber more casually in her right hand, Aloisia extended her left hand to the crowd in a gesture of welcoming friendship. “I do not claim to have all the answers. All I know is that the Veil has been torn open, and that I plan to do everything I can to fix it. This crisis will affect every living soul in Thedas. People of all races, mage and mundane, rich and poor, noble and commoner. Everyone will suffer unless we act together to face this crisis. And that is my sole intention: to do everything within my power to help the people of Thedas. If you can put aside your fears, I ask that you join me – join the Inquisition – in doing whatever you can to help your fellow living souls. I do not ask that you follow me blindly or without question. I only ask that you look to both your faith and to your conscience, ask yourself what is the right thing to do, and then to act accordingly.

“And to those who stand ready to fan the flames of chaos and division,” Aloisia said, leveling her lightsaber and pointing it at Lord Seeker Lucius, “the Inquisition was founded with the mandate to restore order. You can still cast aside your selfish ambitions and be part of the solution rather than part of the problem. The choice is one that each and every one of you must ask yourselves. ‘Do I want to help? If so, what I can I do, and what will I do?’ Answer those questions in good faith, and I have no doubt that the Maker will guide your path forward. Thank you for listening to this one woman who simply wants to try and do the right thing.”

Aloisia extinguished her lightsaber and reattached it to her belt as a few people began to slowly clap their hands in response to her words. As if those few had given them permission, more and more of the crowd began to applaud, until the only ones not cheering were the most conservative of the Chantry clerics and all of the Templars. Of the latter, the young man who had dared to question looked to be deep in thought, while his fellows stood defiant and uncaring.

Though he looked calm on the surface, the Lord Seeker’s glare at Aloisia hid a change of emotion within. Before Aloisia had sensed disdain and disinterest. Now, however, she felt naked covetousness from whatever Lord Seeker Lucius was. He was looking at her, and she sensed little in him but pure, unadulterated envy.

Without taking his gaze off of Aloisia, Lucius spoke to his fellows. “So the heretic causes the faithful to fall into sin and decadence. Templars! You have seen the people fall to this charlatan! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection. We march!”

And so they did. The Templars began to leave the market square towards the city gates, save for the one young man. Aloisia could only imagine the chaos of his mind, so she stepped down from the podium and went to stand next to him. “It is not an easy thing for a soldier to go against the orders of his commander. And yet, a leader must lead by example, lest he prove unfit to command. I imagine you aren’t quite sure what to think. You have heard me called the Blade of the Maker, but I would have you know me as Aloisia Kallig. What is your name, Templar?”

The poor, frightened young man stood at attention. “Delrin Barris, my lady. You’re right, I don’t know what to think. I’ve been a Templar for most of my life, and what the Lord Seeker was saying… That’s not what the Order stands for. Or at least, it’s not what it should stand for. Maker help me, I don’t know if you’re chosen or not, but if the Lord Seeker refuses to help against the Breach, then I will. I… I honestly don’t know what I can do to help, but if it’s true that you can close the Breach, then that’s a cause worth fighting for.”

“Well spoken, Ser Barris,” Aloisia said with pride, taking care to name him ‘Ser’ and mark him as a true and worthy member of his order. “From those who were in the Lord Seeker’s company, I don’t believe any of them stood at all against him. But there must be plenty of other Templars who truly want to do right by the world, who are not yet swayed by his madness. If you want to help, I urge you to find your brother and sister Templars who remember their oaths to protect the people, and to bring them to Haven to aid the Inquisition. If they can, have them bring food, blankets, weapons, and any supplies that they can. There are a lot of people out there, scared and alone and in need of help.

“You’ve already shown tremendous courage in standing up to a superior officer unworthy of your loyalty, Ser Barris,” Aloisia told him with a smile. “In addition to what I have already asked of you, I would ask that if you ever find me unworthy of leadership, then come to me with your concerns, and I will try to earn back your respect. If Thedas is to have a chance at survival – and maybe even unity – then we need to all act with good faith and in accordance with our own conscience. If you feel that your faith and your conscience lead you to help the Inquisition, then I urge you to do so. If you feel otherwise, and if I do not listen to your concerns, then you must similarly follow your conscience and do the right thing. No one person is above the greater good.”

For his part, Ser Barris let out a small laugh. “You’re not like any Knight-Commander or Lord Seeker I’ve ever served under, that’s for sure. But I think you might just be what we need. I’ll wander as far as I can and find as many Templars who still believe in the principles the Order stands for, and I’ll bring them to Haven. I’ll be honest, I don’t yet know if you were sent by the Maker, but I hope you’re trying to do the right thing. Maybe the Maker doesn’t need to intervene if enough people are willing to step up and do what is needed for the people.”

“I don’t think I could have said it better myself,” Aloisia said, her voice full of pride for this remarkable young man. “I would not keep you any longer. Go forth and gather your fellows, and may the Maker guide your path.”

“And may the Maker watch over you, my lady,” Ser Barris said before making for the city gates with haste.

Turning to the assembled crowd, as well as the Chanty clerics, Aloisia took a breath and calmed herself. “I’m sure you all have many questions. I’m sure many of you still doubt whether I truly am here to help. To you, I say that I have come here in peace, and I open myself up to answer whatever questions you have here. And if my word is not enough, then you may consult Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, right hand to Divine Justinia – and you may also question the two men who have accompanied us – to get an honest answer from those who have seen what I have done without me influencing their answers.”

After a silence that stretched on a touch too long, the revered mother who had been condemning Aloisia minutes ago walked over to her carefully. “I thought I knew who and what you were, Blade of the Maker. Now, however, after all that has just transpired, all I feel is doubt. I do not know what to believe anymore,” she confessed.

“There is no shame in uncertainty, Revered Mother,” Aloisia said. “These are uncertain times, and so we must seek answers from our friends, from our loved ones, and from the world around us. In times of uncertainty, faith can be a guide, but it must be accompanied by tangible truth, lest we follow too blindly into – just as an example – condemning a person that you have never met as a heretic. I don’t hold it against you. Fear leads us to hasty action that we later regret. We can only learn from past mistakes so as not to repeat them.”

The revered mother chuckled. “I came here to reassure my flock, and yet it is the one I denounced who is offering me reassurance. I do not know what to believe, but I hope beyond hope that you are here to help, as you say.”

Aloisia smiled a touch sadly. “I intend to help. I want to help. I can only hope that my actions prove worthy of the people’s trust. As for your trust, Revered Mother, I meant what I said. I open myself up to your questions, whatever they may be. And to all of your questions, as well,” Aloisia said to the crowd.

After a brief moment of silence, the market square was full of a din of voices clamoring to learn more about the Blade of the Maker. It might be a hectic scene, but at the very least, it was a start in the right direction.

Chapter Text

In the wake of her confrontation with Lord Seeker Lucius - or whatever it was claiming to be the man - Aloisia found herself fielding several questions about her background, her abilities, her intentions, and many more about her lightsaber from the assembled crowd before her. Some of these questions were repeated so often and by so many people that Aloisia had to declare a moratorium on any further inquiries while she took to the podium once more and gave the answers that almost everyone seemed to want to know, as loudly and as clearly as possible. Many people were satisfied with what she had to say, but there were more than a few that kept demanding details that Aloisia simply did not have or else would not reveal.

After the crowd had dispersed, Aloisia wandered around the city for a while, trying to learn more about her environment. A wealthy merchant had offered to set up shop in Haven, brining much needed food and supplies with her. Aloisia had eagerly welcomed her, but made a mental note to have Leliana’s people watch the woman – Belle was her name – for any signs of smuggling any dangerous materials.

After that, she had received an invitation to a salon at the home of an Orlesian Duke, which Aloisia understood to be the highest Orlesian noble title without being a member of the royal family. Notably, Vivienne de Fer was cited as the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, implying that she belonged to a still-standing Circle of Magi. How a Circle mage could host a party for Orlesian nobles was a question that needed answering.

Shortly after that, Aloisia had run into none other than Grand Enchanter Fiona, the leader of the so-called 'Mage Rebellion.' The title of Grand Enchanter was more ceremonial these days, having lost a lot of its sway with the dissolution of the Circles, but she still held great influence among no small number of mages. Aloisia had known of the elven mage leader during her time in Redcliffe, but she had only met her once, and that had been when she had volunteered to go and defend the delegation that Fiona was sending to the Conclave. Fiona seemed pleased to see Aloisia alive and unharmed, and she expressed hope that Aloisia would seek out the aid of her 'fellow' mages when it came time to close the Breach. Aloisia understood the desire for powerful allies, especially when one belonged to a historically oppressed group of people. After a commitment to meet for further talks in Redcliffe, Aloisia and her comrades parted amicably with Fiona.

Once Fiona had left, Aloisia had barely been able to take a single step before arrow had been shot into the ground right at her feet, and the arrow had a message attached to it. Said message was signed by the ‘Friends of Red Jenny’ and mentioned a ‘baddie’ in Val Royeaux looking to hurt Aloisia. While the language was crude, the promise of bringing ‘everyone’ into the Inquisition’s fold had Aloisia’s curiosity piqued. After a scavenger hunt across the market square, several clues led her to believe that some scared individuals had come across separate bits of information that together spoke of a plot against Aloisia’s life.

More than that, however, the collected bits of information came together to provide a time and a place where the ‘baddie’ was supposed to be. Thus it was that in the dark of night, Aloisia and her squad found themselves about to pay a visit to whomever it was the message was directing them towards. A small number of armed and poorly-trained guards had already fallen, and they had cried out that the ‘Inquisition’s Blade’ had come in person. Clearly, they were expected. Aloisia took point and moved through the ornate estate towards a door, which led into a large courtyard.

A tremor in the Force allowed her to dodge a blast of fire from a mage’s hand. He was the first Thedosian mage she had encountered to cast a spell without a staff. He let out another blast of fire, but his aim was so poor that Aloisia and her team didn’t even bother to dodge.

“The Blade of the Maker!” he cried in apparent surprise. He wore the mask of Orlesian nobility, and he had the arrogance to match. “How much did you expend to discover me? It must have weakened the Inquisition immeasurably!”

Aloisia had to stifle a laugh. “I’m sorry, but should I know you?”

“You don’t fool me,” the silly man rambled on. “I’m too important for this to be an accident! My efforts against you will survive in victories elsewhere!” he boasted, oblivious to the sound and sight of his guards falling to an elven woman with a bow and a nocked arrow. Her bare face and clothing marked her as a city elf.

“Just say ‘What!’” the elf said.

True to his arrogance, the nobleman turned in indignation to face the woman. “What is the…” That was all he managed to say before her arrow ended his life.

“I’ve got to remember that one,” Aloisia said with a warm smile as she turned to face the bow-woman. “Red Jenny, or one of her friends, I take it?”

“Yup!” she agreed cheerily. “Gotta hand it to these rich tits, they always try for more than they deserve,” she said as she crouched down to retrieve her arrow. ‘Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Whoops! Arrow in my face!’

“So, you followed the notes well enough,” she said as she came to observe Aloisia properly. “Glad to see you’re… You’re kind of pretty, I guess? But that’s it. All that talk, and then you’re just… Just a person. I mean, it’s all good, innit? The important thing is you glow. Or your sword glows. Or something, whatever. You’re the Blade, right?”

Aloisia couldn’t help but grin. After so much time spent among the Lords of the Dark Council, or else the leadership of her own Alliance, and lately the leaders of the Inquisition, it was incredibly refreshing to meet one of the plain, ordinary people that she had dedicated her life to protecting. This woman was worth having as an ally, if only to keep herself grounded and to not lose sight of who she was fighting for.

“Well, I have a sword that glows, but I wouldn’t touch it, as it’s very hot,” Aloisia said in a joking way that she hadn’t felt comfortable with in quite a while. “And when I close rifts, my hand glows. Does that sound good to you? And lest I forget, why am I here? And who is this man?”

“No idea,” the archer confessed with refreshing frankness. “I don’t know this idiot from manners. My people just said the Inquisition should look at him.”

“Your people? The Friends of Red Jenny?” Aloisia asked.

“Kinda, I guess? Really, it's just people people. Anyway, name’s Sera. This here’s cover. Get around it. For the reinforcements,” she clarified. “Someone tipped me off their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches!” she said with an ecstatic, gleeful grin.

If the foe they were facing had posed any real danger, Aloisia might have taken to task Sera for not doing anything about their weapons or armor. As it was, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “Oh, I like you a lot. I think I’ll give myself a workout,” she said as she drew her steel sword.

A very brief skirmish ensued as the combined efforts of Aloisia, Sera, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas proceeded to utterly demolish the bare-legged guards. It was entirely comical, and Aloisia realized that this was the most she had laughed since crashing on this planet. It was over incredibly quickly.

Sera had a laugh about the tip from her ‘friends’ about the breeches, then returned her attention to Aloisia. “So, Blade of the Maker… You’re not half-bad. I’d like to join up.”

“I’m inclined to welcome you,” Aloisia said. “But first, I’d like a bit of clarification as to just who the ‘Friends of Red Jenny’ are, exactly.”

For her part, Sera seemed a touch impatient, but only just. “Well, I’m Sera, but also Red Jenny. There’s other Jennies in cities all over. It’s just a name that lets little people – you know, ‘friends’ – be part of something bigger so they can stick it to nobles they hate.”

Understanding was dawning. “And this is why more than common courtesy, it’s common sense to be nice to everyone, no matter who they are,” Aloisia said. “Servants come and go without most people noticing them. Make enough of them all angry enough, and they sent out a call for help. Red Jenny – be that you or someone else with the name – answers that call and sticks it to the 'baddie,' I take it?”

“Yes! See, it’s not complicated, really,” Sera said with no small giddiness. “So, do you want my help? Either way, I like your attitude. Not likely to lose your breeches if you keep this up.”

Aloisia extended her right hand to Sera. “I’d love to have your help, Sera. Not only as an archer, and not only as a Red Jenny, but as one of the ‘people people’ that the Inquisition is trying to help. If we ever… If I ever stop doing right by the people of Thedas, I’m counting on you to set me straight. Just say it to my face so that I can stop doing wrong and start doing right again. If for some reason I don't listen to you, then I'll deserve whatever comes my way, most likely. Do we have a deal?”

Sera grinned like a maniac and took Aloisia’s hand in her own. “Yeah, that's a deal, all right. Now, you’ll keep your breeches for sure. Speaking of… I’ve got a lot of extra breeches over here. You have merchants who buy that stuff, right?”

Aloisia shook her head. “They’d be better off being given to refugees in need of warm clothing. Less profitable, but better for the people.”

“Ha! I like you already, Blade of the Maker! You seem like a good sort.”

“Call me Aloisia,” she said kindly. “And now, we need to get moving. I’m expected at some sort of fancy salon in a few days. Ride with us, and you can tell me if any of your friends have any issues with one Vivienne de Fer or else a Duke Bastien de Ghislain.”

During the trip to Ghislain, Sera revealed that she had not heard anything at all - good or bad - about Duke Bastien, but that it was possible that some other Red Jenny might have eyes and ears where she did not. As for Vivienne de Fer, Sera had heard a few frightened whispers, but no more than that. While the arrogant ass that they had just killed together had been a mage, he was too incompetent to inspire any real fear. Vivienne de Fer, on the other hand, was not someone that many little people – as Sera referred to commoners – were willing to speak out against. That spoke to the First Enchanter of Montsimmard being either a formidable ally or else an unsavory enemy.

Upon arriving in Ghislain, Aloisia urged her companions to take some time to enjoy the city while she attended the salon. Unfortunately, the invitation was for her alone, but that did not mean that Aloisia would be the only witness to what would take place there. When she and Lana had crashed on this planet, Aloisia had salvaged a few small things from the escape pod in the hope that they would prove useful. Among these had been a pair of holo-communicators - her own and Lana's - and she had gifted her personal device to Leliana while keeping a piece of her wife close at hand. With a bit of careful metalwork, some enchantment, and a touch of paint, Aloisia had the holocomm adhering to the armor over her left forearm, and a non-functional replica on her right forearm made for fashionable symmetry, with both of them painted to match the beige and orange coloring of the rest of her armor.

More than allowing her to stay in contact with her spymaster in real-time, regardless of the distance separating them, it allowed Aloisia to record any happenings surrounding her should she so desire. A visual recording would be difficult to maintain due to the device’s position - an arm tended to move about a lot in most situations - but the audio should come through perfectly clear. Setting the device to record, Aloisia made her way to the duke’s estate and was escorted to the salon.

Duke Bastien's manor was similar to the grandiose architecture that she had seen in Val Royeaux: white marble with gold decorations, and everyone in attendance wearing elaborate clothing and masks covering either half or all of their faces. Aloisia alone was bare-faced. It might not be culturally agreeable in Orlais, but the extravagant use of masks in Orlesian society went beyond even the Sith Empire’s ostentatiousness. The ghost of Aloisia’s distant ancestor and namesake, Aloysius Kallig, had once revealed to her where his own mask had been kept as a trophy by another Sith at the time, and that mask had been the only face she had to put to the man who had helped to shape her destiny. Some Sith preferred to wear a mask as a form of intimidation, or else to hide their face from betraying their emotions to a rival. The practice had never appealed to Aloisia, but rare and difficult circumstances had sometimes called upon her to done her ancestor's mask.

Focusing back on the brand of masks all around her in the here and now, Aloisia saw that full-face Orlesian masks were far less common than half-masks that covered only the top of the face. So far as Aloisia could tell from her limited experience the entire tradition of masks in Orlais was based solely in vanity. Maybe Leliana would have insight that Aloisia herself did not yet possess. Sera might also know more, given her obsession with ‘sticking it to nobles.’ Regardless, these were questions for another time.

As she entered the main foyer, a herald at the entrance introduced her. “Lady Kallig, representing the Inquisition,” he announced as Aloisia took in the opulence around her, feeling immediately disgusted. The Veil was torn open, there was a literal hole in the sky, and these people were simply gossiping and partying as if everything was normal. Again, Aloisia was forced to draw unfavorable comparisons between Orlais and Zakuul.

Despite her distaste for everything around her, it would only hurt her cause if she didn't play nice. As Aloisia walked further into the ballroom, a man and a woman approached her, both of them wearing elaborate half-masks. Sensing genuine interest from them, Aloisia forced a polite smile to cross her face. “What a pleasure to meet you, my lady,” the man said. To his credit, his voice held no disdain or arrogance, at least not yet. “Seeing the same faces at every event becomes so tiresome. So, you must be a guest of Madame de Fer? Or are you here for Duke Bastien?”

Before Aloisia could retort with the biting response that had leaped to her lips upon hearing ‘the same faces,’ the woman beside him entered the conversation. “Are you here on business?” she asked. “I have heard the most curious tales about you. I cannot imagine half of them are true.”

As much as she detested it, this was a dance that Aloisia knew all too well, and she forced herself to remember the steps. “I am indeed here on business with Madame de Fer,” she confirmed. “As to the stories about me, I imagine that some of them have already grown in the telling. Most likely you have heard fantasies at worst, or else exaggerations at best.”

“Oh, but the stories are told only to the best effect,” the noblewoman said, as if such flights of fancy were a good thing. “The Inquisition is a ripe subject for wild tales.”

“The Inquisition. What a load of pig shit,” a low male voice derided. Aloisia looked to her right to see a half-masked man descending a staircase to meet her. Unlike most of the people here, he was armed, though his sword would be a bit hard to reach from its current location, strapped to his back. In the Force, Aloisia could sense the man was expectant and eager. He had almost certainly known that she would be here, and this display of aggression felt too deliberate. Was it rehearsed?

“Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously,” he said as he reached ground level and strode past Aloisia before turning back to face her. “Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

Aloisia had to resist the urge to shake her head. This was no man. This was just a boy grasping to make a scene by talking about things he did not understand at all. “The next time I visit the survivors of the Conclave – those still mourning the loss of their friends, their comrades, not to mention Divine Justinia – I’ll be sure to pass along how their sacrifices are viewed in Orlais.”

The boy merely spat on the floor, as if he wanted to project some imagined picture of dramatic poise. “We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is. If you were a woman of honor, you’d step outside and answer the charges.”

As the boy went for his own blade, Aloisia let her right hand drift to the steel sword on her left hip, but before either of them could draw their blades, the overly aggressive boy was frozen in place. Ice coated his entire body, and it was clear that he was unable to move his limbs, though his eyes and mouth were unaffected.

“My dear Marquis,” a woman said from atop a flight of stairs, and Aloisia’s felt herself go cold from nothing quite as simple as an ice spell. Whomever this woman was, her tone of voice and choice of words were already strikingly reminiscent of Darth Zash, Aloisia’s Sith master. Zash had lured her in with honeyed words, and had even attended parties not unlike this one. All of it was a ruse to try and transfer her spirit into Aloisia’s body, killing Aloisia in the process.

Things hadn’t worked out for Zash, but Aloisia couldn’t help but flashback to thoughts of her former master all the same. A dark-skinned woman wearing a half-mask and a headdress with curling horns descended the stairs with shrewd intent behind every step. “How unkind of you,” she said to the poor boy, “to use such language in my house… To my guests.” She strode down the stairs as if she owned this manor – which she had just claimed as so in her own words – despite the invitation saying that this house belonged to Duke Bastien. “You know such rudeness is… intolerable.”

“Madame Vivienne! I humbly beg your pardon!” the poor frozen boy said, his voice and his feelings both full of shock. Aloisia realized that she had met a second mage capable of casting without a staff. More than that, she recognized a power play when she saw one. Had Vivienne been at all concerned for Aloisia’s safety, then her words would have reflected as much. No, this was all a stage to make a point about both her magical and political prowess, and it was happening at the expense of a man who was being victimized by magic in plain view of supposedly devout Andrastians.

In response to his humbled plea for forgiveness, both in tone and in words, Vivienne simply replied coldly, “You should.” She finally came around and stood face-to-face with her victim. “Whatever am I going to do with you, my dear?” Her victim dared not reply.

Ignoring him, Vivienne turned to face Aloisia. “My lady, you’re the wounded party in this unfortunate affair. What would you have me do with this foolish, foolish man?”

Fool though he might be, he was also a victim, and Aloisia intended to save him, though she would have to go through the proper forms, detestable though they were. “He will be remanded into the custody of the Inquisition to answer for his slanderous remarks,” Aloisia said, her voice cold and proud, “not to mention his attempt to draw steel against the Blade of the Maker.”

Vivienne snapped her fingers, unfreezing the poor boy as a pair of guards came forth from the entrance to bind him and take him away. “By the grace of Andraste, you have your life,” Vivienne said. “You had best hope that the Inquisition’s justice is more merciful than mine.”

As the guards made off with the poor Marquis, Vivienne approached Aloisia. “I’m delighted you could attend this little gathering, my dear. I’ve so wanted to meet you,” she said.

Despite being a Circle mage, Vivienne moved in what seemed to be the highest of social circles, and she almost definitely expected a certain amount of recognition merely by dint of maneuvering herself this far. That she had so flagrantly abused her magic to humiliate a man of no consequence revealed her hypocrisy. More than that, it revealed how dangerous a woman she would be if allowed to continue on this path.

“Lady Vivienne,” Aloisia said, her face all smiles and her voice full of honey. “You certainly know how to make an introduction. With that display of magic, you remind me a great deal of one of my most effective mentors. May I tell you about her?”

“You flatter me,” Vivienne said. “I would love to hear about such a mentor that I remind you of.”

“Thank you,” Aloisia said. “Before I tell you about her, I do have one question to ask first. You gave me the decision regarding the Marquis’s fate. If I had said that he deserved death, would you have killed him?”

“Why, my dear, of course I would have,” Vivienne said as if it were obvious. “He attempted to draw his weapon, unprovoked, in the presence of witnesses. Duels are not fought in the drawing room. More than that, his attitude was simply shameful. I could not in good conscience, nor as a good host, allow such conduct to continue. I admit, you were more merciful towards poor Alphonse than I had expected.”

The sheer arrogance that she could get away with such a thing almost undid Aloisia’s smile. “I see. And of course you are right, Lady Vivienne. Not that he was ever any real threat. I was actually prepared to duel him, you know, and I would have done it outside, had he not gone for his blade. I do apologize for my own thoughtlessnes.”

“Oh, think nothing of it, darling,” Vivienne said with a wave of her hand. “The situation was never in danger of being out of control.”

“Of course.” Aloisia took a slow breath and reminded herself to keep her smile in place. “Now, I told you that you reminded me a great deal of a mentor that taught me a very important lesson. This lesson that I was taught so effectively is perhaps the most crucial thing that I have ever learned. Quite simply, the lesson was all about patience. You see, when I was a young woman, I was still a piece of property. But I was growing into my womanhood, and along with my age came an attitude that was not quite so fit for my Master’s home. She was remarkably skilled with ice magic - just as you are - and when I ran my mouth at the most inappropriate moment, she decided upon my punishment. My Master turned her magic on me, just as you turned your own magic against the poor Marquis scant moment ago.”

Aloisia could feel Vivienne’s shock in the Force, though her face remained impassive at the telling of the tale. The story itself was not entirely true, but Aloisia had to make certain adjustments to her real life story in order to keep it in line with what Thedosians would accept and believe. “My Master did not like to mark her slaves. She liked to keep us pretty so that she could show us off to her rivals. They would know that she had no fear of us, and was entirely confident in her permanent ownership of us. Her arrogance kept our faces bare, at the very least, but that didn't mean she couldn't control us. To punish me for speaking out so boldly and at such a bad time, she froze me solid with a spell not unlike the one you used against poor Alphonse a few minutes ago. To make sure I knew my place, she kept me frozen for five straight months. I was unfrozen twice a day so that I might have some bread and water, but that was all. The bare minimum to keep me alive so that I would still be useful once my punishment had been fully meted out.

“She sought to break me, but what she thought was a punishment only served to solidify my resolve. I knew then and there that if I wanted to be free of my cruel Master, I would have to bide my time and hold my tongue. And so I did. I waited and watched for an opportunity to arise, and when it did, I led the other slaves of my Master’s household to rebel. We freed ourselves from a vile mage who took obvious pleasure in lording her power over others.”

The room had gone silent, and Aloisia could tell that she had everyone’s undivided attention. “’Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him,’” Aloisia recited from the Chant of Light. “’Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against His children.’” Aloisia nodded her head at Vivienne as she spoke to indicate her intentions. “’They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world or beyond.’ And so you shall not, Lady Vivienne.

“By the power and authority of the Inquisition, I, Aloisia Kallig, place you under arrest, Vivienne de Fer. You will be interred into my custody to answer for your crimes against the Maker and against His children. Now, you can come quietly and without a fuss, or you can make a scene. Either way, your cruelty ends here, my lady,” Aloisia sneered.

Vivienne did not budge, nor did she speak. She merely stood up straight, proud and defiant. It was a dare, throwing down a gauntlet and demanding that Aloisia make the next move.

“Guards!” Aloisia called. “You have born witness to Vivienne de Fer abusing her magic, victimizing her fellow man and breaking the Maker’s commandments. Bind her immediately to prevent any further harm she might do. I will escort her into Inquisition custody when you are done.”

The guards looked to one another, seemingly at a loss for what to do. They had surely not expected to be asked to arrest their own host. Aloisia decided to break their stupor and drew her lightsaber and ignited it. She pointed it at the guards and ignored the gasps from the room around her. “Did I stutter? You are to bind Lady Vivienne, and you are to do so now! Am I clear?”

“Y-yes, my lady!” one of the guards said quickly before stepping forward. “I’m sorry, Lady Vivienne,” he said quietly as he bound her hands in manacles behind her back.

“I’m sure you are, my dear,” Vivienne said, not entirely unkindly.

Satisfied that Vivienne was contained, Aloisia turned off her lightsaber, clipped it back to her belt, and pressed her right arm into Vivienne’s back as she marched her out of Duke Bastien’s estate. “Lady Vivienne,” Aloisia said mockingly. “You had best hope the Inquisition’s justice is more merciful than your own,” she echoed. “Let’s go. Justice awaits.”

Thanks to Chancellor Roderick, Aloisia and her companions had secure lodgings in a wing of Ghislain’s chantry, which was more of a cathedral than a humble sanctuary. Reactions to her decisions at the Duke’s estate were varied. Cassandra was practically apoplectic at what Aloisia had done and the fallout that would surely entail. Sera was delighted that two abusive nobles had got what was coming to them. Solas seemed more impressed by Aloisia’s ability to humble Vivienne in such a way – and at her own party – than he did with any real justice that her actions might have resulted in. Varric muttered something about Orlesian nobles and let that be that.

Sera, Solas, Varric, and Cassandra were keeping guard over Vivienne, taking their sleep in shifts. There were enough beds to go around, so comfort and privacy were not issues. Meanwhile, Aloisia dedicated herself to dealing with the Marquis who had accosted her. His hands were bound in front of him, but he was awake and sitting on the floor. He was still fully clothed, though Aloisia had removed his mask. Beneath it was the face of a young man, barely more than a boy, obviously in over his head. He held Aloisia’s gaze with his own baleful look.

Aloisia sat on the soft bed that had been provided her and looked down at her prisoner on the floor. “Before we get into what is to become of you, I would know a few things. What is your name, and why did you pick a fight with me over the Inquisition? Did you decide to do it yourself, or did Vivienne put you up to it?”

He spat on the ground before looking up at Aloisia accusingly. “My name is Alphonse. Before today, I could have added ‘de Mont-de-glace’ to that, but after such an embarrassment, I will likely be disowned, if I have not been already. I suppose that brings you joy, Lady Blade? And perhaps I would not have brought such shame on myself had Madame de Fer not poisoned my thoughts before you arrived. To be shamed so publicly is one thing, but to have you intervene on my behalf… I am cursed to be indebted to you. I could not have possibly been more thoroughly and utterly disgraced.”

“Perhaps,” Aloisia conceded. The man was arrogant, and his pride had been wounded. She had to tend to that wound before it festered. “If you wish to remain in Orlais, and if you wish to play in their ‘Great Game,’ then you would indeed be a disgrace. But it need not be so. Before Vivienne intervened, I would have gladly dueled you. I have some skill with a blade, but my aptitude is more magical than martial. Dueling is not much like real combat, but it is a good place as any to start. You could become part of the Inquisition, if you wish to regain honor in your own eyes. It would seem like humble work compared to what you are used to, but you would be working in the service of the people of Thedas, helping to restore order to a world wracked with chaos.”

“And if I refuse this ‘mercy’ that you offer? What will become of me then?” Alphonse demanded.

Aloisia gave only a shrug before answering honestly. “Then I will set you free. You can go to the stables and find your mount and your weapon both safe there, and then you can go wherever you feel your life will take you. The only reason you’re restrained at all is to make sure that you don’t try anything like you did back at the salon. Give me your word as a man of honor, and I will release you this moment to leave and take whatever path that your conscience dictates.”

“Maker forgive me,” Alphonse said as he looked skyward. “I cannot remain in Orlais and keep any semblance of honor or dignity, not without backing one side in the Civil War in the hope that I choose the winner. No, better to pay back my debt to you and regain my honor for a noble cause, away from Orlais. You have my word as a man of honor that I will cause you no further trouble, my Lady. Should you see fit to free me, I shall make my way to Haven and join your Inquisition.”

Aloisia smiled, and she was truly pleased with the outcome. “Very well,” she said. With a wave of her fingers, the manacles on Alphonse’s wrists unlocked themselves and fell to the floor, unbinding him. “You’re a free man, Alphonse. Your life and your honor are yours to uphold. And if I may offer a bit of advice? Honor is more than what Orlais or anyone else says it is. Better that you can live up to your own standards than to any others that outside forces may place upon you.”

Alphonse hastily got to his feet, looking at the manacles on the floor, then back to his free wrists, and then back to Aloisia. “I believe I owe you a true apology, my lady,” he said, falling to one knee. “You have both shown me mercy, and you have given me wisdom. I am truly in your debt, Blade of the Maker. It is a debt I intend to repay in full.”

“Excellent,” Aloisia said as she rose to her feet, a wide grin on her face as she extended her hand to him. Perhaps some good would come of that accursed woman’s machinations. “Vivienne’s schemes have not only failed her, but they have been turned against her as well. Let Vivienne de Fer herself be the final victim of her own twisted games. You are free of her, and you have my word as a woman of honor that she will answer for what she did to you, as well as for whatever other crimes she was allowed to commit in the name of the Great Game. Orlesian traditions do not supersede the Maker’s commandments, and now the people will be reminded of that fact.”

Alphonse finally allowed himself to smile, and he grasped Aloisia by the forearm. She returned the gesture by closing her grip on his forearm in turn. “I do not know if you were sent by the Maker," he said, "but you speak like someone who I would like to believe is chosen. May the Maker watch over His Blade, and may He bring her Inquisition success.”

Aloisia nodded and let go of the probably-former marquis, happy to see a man committed to making the most of a second chance. “Maker watch over you, Alphonse. Go in peace.”

After Alphonse had made his way out of the apartment, Aloisia waited to allow him to depart with some grace before she descended to the main floor to speak with a Chantry sister. “My comrades and I will be transporting a maleficar as a prisoner when we depart. Have you a carriage of some sort fit that can be pulled by a single horse?”

"A maleficar?!" The sister gasped before catching herself and nodding her head. “Yes, of course. We have some wheeled cages that the Templars used to bring mages to the Circle back before… Well, back before the war.”

Aloisia nodded. “Good. Please make sure that one is available and in good enough condition to both contain a powerful mage and to travel through mountain roads. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but this is a matter of some urgency.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Lady Blade, I promise” the sister said with a warm smile. It probably was a certain amount of trouble, and the sister was likely just being mannerly, which Aloisia didn't mind in the least. “I know that not everyone agrees on what really happened at the Conclave, but I saw Seeker Pentaghast with you. The Right Hand of the Divine would not have declared an Inquisition if it wasn’t Justinia’s will. You’ll have all the help you need. At least, you will from me, Your Worship.”

“Thank you, sister," Aloisia said as she raised her hand in a calming gesture. "And please, be at ease. There's no need for formalities, truly. But, if you’ll excuse me for the time being, I need to get some rest. Thank you again, for everything.”

And so Aloisia went back upstairs to get ready for bed. She hoped that she would be able to guide herself into a lucid dream in the Fade tonight. If she was unable to do so, then she was positive that she would be met with nightmares of being frozen in carbonite for five years. She wasn’t willing to let it show when Vivienne had frozen Alphonse, but the First Enchanter had dredged up awful memories that could only be truthfully called traumatic. Aloisia had thought that she had forgotten such things for a time, but she had only been deluding herself, she realized.

It might be petty of her, but Vivienne de Fer would pay for her crimes. Every last one of them, including triggering a horrific trauma that Aloisia feared would scar her soul for the rest of her life.

Chapter Text

Lana opened her eyes, not realizing that she had closed them. Had she blinked? Had she drifted into sleep along with Aloy? It couldn’t be the latter, for what she beheld was so very different from the Fade. She was not in the dreamscape of this world, but in an all too familiar nightmare. All around Lana, the ground was littered with ash. For as far as she could see, there was nothing but barren rock, a few standing buildings, and a number of large, bulging creatures that glowed a sickly purple and reeked of the Dark Side of the Force.

The creatures were called ‘monoliths’ simply for lack of a proper name, and they were literal embodiments of the Dark Side. They were the only thing resembling life left in this dead world, and there was no mistaking that Lana Beniko had found herself in the ashes of Ziost. Never had her own failure been so costly. Millions – if not billions – of people had died before they could be evacuated, to say nothing of the non-sentient life. Every living thing, from the largest tree down to the smallest bacteria… It had all been consumed.

How had she come to be here? It didn’t really matter right now. Lana just had to find a way off world. She needed to get back to Aloy, which meant finding a way back to the Rishi Maze and somehow finding the one world in that dwarf galaxy that supported life, and wasn’t that curious? Tales of travelers from the Rishi Maze had told of nothing but dead worlds with little to nothing of value. And yet, Aloy had received a message of sorts from within the Maze when they were on the planet of Rishi, for which the neighboring dwarf galaxy was named.

What had happened to the worlds of the Rishi Maze, and why was the world containing Thedas unaffected? Something to talk with Aloy about once Lana found her. “Where are you, my love?” she whispered to herself.

“I’m right here, Lana,” Aloy’s voice called from behind her.

Turning around, Lana saw her wife standing before her, confident and assured as always. Lana ran towards her, but stopped short as she realized that something was off. Aloy’s presence felt cold, like a deathly chill. And as she got close enough, Lana saw that her beloved’s eyes were no longer their sweet shade of green, but burned yellow like a sun. In her own reflection, those eyes felt like a match for Lana. On Aloy, they felt just plain wrong.

“What’s the matter, Lana? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Aloy said with a cruel smile, her words mocking and sadistic. “Surely, you can’t be surprised, Lana Beniko. Did you really think I could ever truly be defeated? Did you think your beloved had actually beaten me? No, all I had to do was to bide my time, as I have always done. I rather like this new body. So much power, such a strong will that had to be crushed. Really, she never stood a chance. But you knew this all along. Didn’t you, little Sith?”

Little Sith. Only one being had ever called Lana by that derivative, and only as she had rushed to Aloy’s aid to defend her from the one being who had ever been their true enemy. This was indeed a land of nightmares, for standing before Lana was her very worst fear come to life. Aloisia Kallig was gone. All that was left of her was her body, and it was cruelly playing host to the Sith Emperor himself. Whatever name he chose to use was irrelevant.

“Oh, you think my name doesn’t matter, little Sith?” he mocked in Aloy’s voice. “Shouldn’t it matter when I rise as Aloisia Kallig, the Blade of the Maker? I think I shall quite enjoy becoming a God-Queen on this world. If I could rise Zakuul into an Empire to threaten the galaxy, why ever can I not do so with this world? It will take several centuries, but time is no concern of mine. Your beloved refused the Eternal Throne, but she will still serve as an Immortal Empress. I would think you’d be proud of her, little Sith.”

“No!” Lana cried out, unable to keep her thoughts within her own mind. “No, I will not allow it!” Drawing her lightsaber and igniting its crimson blade, Lana stared down the monster in Aloy’s body.

The Emperor simply laughed, but the cruel cackle was in Aloy’s voice, and it almost paralyzed Lana. Both she and her beloved had vowed to kill the other should the Emperor take control of the other, but Lana did not know if she could do the deed.

“I think you will allow it, little Sith,” he mocked. “Your love is a weakness. You cannot do what needs to be done. Just as you could not save Ziost, just as you let Theron Shan destroy the Eternal Fleet, just as you encouraged an impostor to share your lover's bed, so too have you allowed me to dominate your beloved wife’s mind. Love paralyzes you even now, little Sith. I think I’ll keep you around for a time. I have never had a need for Force-walking, and while your spirit will hardly give me any amount of significant power, your pure, unbridled despair will be far more satisfying to sate me in the long run.

“Indeed,” the Emperor boasted. “There is nothing quite as satisfying as breaking someone’s will, and I need not even take action to do so. Merely by keeping you around, you will succumb to utter despair, and I shall feed off your suffering.”

“Despair,” Lana said as a brilliant truth came alight in her mind. There was a reason why there weren’t in Thedas anymore. Aloy must have fallen asleep, but she had been shaken by the events in Vivienne’s salon. Alphonse being frozen had reminded Aloy of her time in carbonite, and Lana remembered many nights while she had still been alive, waking up in bed next to her wife thrashing about from nightmares of many things, the carbon freezing among them.

This was just another nightmare, but since Aloy had not guided herself into a waking dream, she had been drawn into a realm of despair. The cruel mockery in front of Lana was nothing but a Despair Demon, and as Aloy had taught her so well, nothing had any power in one’s mind save what you allowed it. Whether this was truly Lana’s mind or else an extension of Aloy’s, she refused to let this demon hold any more power over her.

Without bothering to grace it with a word or a thought, Lana strode forward with renewed purpose and struck down ‘Aloy’ now that she knew her to be entirely false. A baleful screech answered her, and Aloy’s face took on an inhuman contortion.

“No, don’t even bother,” Lana said. “Be gone.” With a wave of her hand, Lana called upon the Force and threw the demon up into the sky, which was really just a part of the Fade she couldn’t see. And as the demon left her sight, the world around her began to change. The ashes of Ziost began to fade away, and Lana realized that the demon had not only reflected her fears of a corrupted Aloy, but of Ziost as well. And as Ziost fell away, the Spire of Zakuul took its place.

This was no longer Lana’s own nightmare, she realized. This was Aloy’s nightmare now. Likely another creature of despair had her trapped. Aloy’s keen mind had created the Spire in exacting detail, so Lana knew just where to go. Arcann’s trophy room, where he had kept the frozen bodies of all his greatest enemies, and where a certain ‘Outlander’ was almost certainly waiting for her.

Aloy had told her once that when she had faced down Arcann, the man himself had admitted that his grudge had never been against Aloy herself, but against his father – the Immortal Emperor – who had taken up residence in her mind. Lana had not had any sympathy for Arcann, nor for Senya once she had betrayed the Alliance to save her son. Aloy, on the other hand, had seen them as victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. Even with just his Valkorion persona, he had caused immeasurable suffering over a very short span of time, most of it by proxy in Aloy’s mind.

Lana had initially disagreed, but Aloy had insights that she did not, and Lana had come to realize that her wife spoke the truth, albeit from a certain point of view. As for Vaylin… After seeing the documentation of the experiments done to her on Nathema by Valkorion’s will, it was hard to see Vaylin as anything but a victim. She had ended up as an uncontrollable and absurdly powerful monster, but she might never have become that woman had her father not forced her down that path.

But such thoughts would have to wait, especially here in the Fade. For now, Lana roamed the halls of the Spire until she found the right turbolift to take her to the trophy room. After moments that felt like hours, the lift arrived, and Lana found her way to see a familiar slab of carbonite, with a man in white ceremonial armor pacing in front of it. In the shape of Valkorion, no doubt another despair demon was tormenting Aloy, her own despair manifesting in the form of her carbonite prison.

The demon paid Lana no mind, and she realized with shame and with horror that her own nightmares paled into insignificance next to all that her beloved had suffered through. The demon would not pass up such a feast for a lesser meal. Still, it worked to Lana’s advantage as she strode up behind the demon and stabbed it with her lightsaber. ‘Valkorion’ snarled and hissed, and Lana had to remind herself that she could not truly kill a spirit of the Fade, so with another gesture of the Force, she threw it away, as far as she could.

With the demon gone, Lana walked up to the slab of carbonite, and she embraced her wife. “It’s all right, my love. You’re safe now. You’re in the Fade. This is but a dream, and nothing can hurt you anymore unless you allow it. Come back to me, Aloy.”

Lana took a step back and watched the carbonite begin to slowly melt away. And then, in a flash of light, the carbonite was gone, and Aloisia Kallig stood before her once more.

“Lana,” she said hoarsely, her voice still tinged with fear. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, my love,” Lana said as her heart filled with warmth. “This is just a dream. You're not back there, and you never will be again. But the Fade will play tricks on us all if we’re not prepared. I suggest that you wake yourself up, and then you can confirm the truth beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Aloy smiled, and unlike the demon that wore her face, this was truly the face of Lana’s wife, and she could feel her love and commitment in the Force. “You always have the answers I need, dearest. Time to wake up, I think.”

Not a moment later, and Lana was back in Aloy’s room in the Ghislain chantry. Allowing herself to appear beside Aloy, Lana kneeled at the foot of her beloved’s bed as Aloy roused herself from her slumber. “Shh,” Lana said gently, hoping to comfort Aloy. “You’re as safe as you can be now. You’re awake, but it’s still dark outside. Someone might be watching that witch, but take a moment for yourself, beloved. No need to wake anyone up. The nightmare has passed.”

Aloy sat up in her bed and put a hand to her head before turning to face Lana. “Thank…“ Aloy stopped and shook her head before putting a finger to her lips. “Thank you, Lana. You’ve always been there for me when I couldn’t be there for myself. I don’t know if this is the right time, but you’ve been deflecting my questions about the unease you’ve been feeling. But no-one else – not a single person in this entire galaxy – could have helped me the way you just did, just as you always have. I love you, Lana, so very much, and I don’t know what I would do without you. Please, don’t let that ever be in doubt.”

Aloy’s words cut Lana to the quick, and while she still felt her insecurities, they felt so very distant in this moment that they were all but forgotten. “Never, Aloy. I don’t even need to ask. I can feel your love, no more separate from you than your beating heart itself. And I love you, Aloy. Beyond anything or anyone else in this galaxy, I love you.”

And Lana did love Aloy more than words could express. The demon had been entirely wrong. Her love was not a weakness at all. It was a source of more strength than she could ever begin to imagine. Despair had no place in Lana’s heart, not when it was so perfectly and completely suffused with love.

The sun was still rising as Leliana read over her agents’ reports in her tent just outside the Haven chantry. She had only just awoken, and the reports marked as ‘Urgent’ out of Ghislain showed conflicting accounts, but all of them pointed to something of great significance. Whether the situation would lead to chaos or else to opportunity would depend on the truth of the matter, and what steps the Blade of the Maker took going forward.

As if in answer to her very thoughts, Leliana felt a vibration come from a compartment attached to her belt. Leliana withdrew the device that Aloisia Kallig had given her and closed the flaps of the tent. This piece of black metal in her hand would supposedly allow her to be in contact with the Blade wherever she might be, though she had warned Leliana only to use it when she could be assured of absolute privacy.

Following the directions that Aloisia had given her, Leliana found a switch and slid it to one side. She had to keep from gasping in surprise as a small, ghostly visage of the Blade herself sprouted out of the metal device. There was no color to the Blade, save that the entire image was a light blue, and the visage was translucent as well. All the same, there was no mistaking the face and the armor of Aloisia Kallig.

“Sister Nightingale,” Aloisia said, her voice somewhat altered due to the device’s workings, but definitely the Blade’s own voice.

“Lady Blade,” Leliana answered in kind. Their respective greetings had a simple and important purpose. As they addressed each other now, they knew that they could speak freely. If Aloisia ever referred to her simply as ‘spymaster,’ and if Leliana ever referred to her just as ‘my lady,’ then the other would know that one was being held under duress, and they would know that they were not at liberty to divulge certain secrets.

For now, however, the Blade had news to deliver. “It’s still dark here in Ghislain. I’ve left the cathedral for a bit of privacy. I thought I’d update you on what has happened. You no doubt have agents who may have already been in contact, but I thought it best that you hear my account so as to leave no doubt.”

“As I understand it,” Leliana said with no small bite to her words, “you arrested First Enchanter Vivienne after calling her a maleficar in front of an assembly of Orlesian nobility. Is that an exaggeration?”

“No, it isn’t,” Aloisia admitted. “But it is not the full truth. The devices we are speaking to each other with are capable of more than just communication. They can record what is happening around them. Had I kept my wrist level for the duration, you would have a literal picture of what happened. As it is, you will only have the audio of what transpired. I’m about to transmit the events to you for you to witness. When you’ve finished, you may ask me to clarify anything that was unclear.”

Before Leliana could even ask how such a thing was possible, voices could be heard coming from the device, and the Blade’s image had disappeared. Leliana listened as the Blade entered the salon, made small talk, and then listened to a petty challenge that was interrupted by Vivienne de Fer, who had no doubt staged the whole thing.

As Aloisia made unfavorable comparison between Vivienne and her non-existent slave master, what did stand out was the reference to being frozen for five months. The Blade had claimed to have been frozen for five years by someone else, but the venom in her words made it clear that this was a very real trauma. Between this account and the device she was hearing it from, Leliana began to wonder just how much of Aloisia’s tales were actually true.

Both the poor Marquis and Vivienne herself had been taken into Inquisition custody, whatever the ‘Inquisition’s custody’ was worth to anyone. Vivienne had gone quietly, of course, but what would they be doing with this Marquis? From what Leliana could guess, Vivienne had frozen him in place, and she had admitted to being willing to kill him. A horrible thought came into Leliana’s mind. Vivienne had been playing the Great Game, and had Leliana been there, she would not have thought twice about the Marquis’s fate. And yet, had any other mage outside of Orlesian high society done such a thing, the Templars would have killed them without hesitation, and they would have been justified in doing so.

Many outside of Orlais – mostly Fereldans – spoke of the Great Game with disgust, and it seemed that the Blade of the Maker saw it similarly. More than that, when hearing a woman with magical and political power openly boast about what she could get away with… Was the Great Game truly worth it all if it allowed such flagrant hypocrisy with a smile and with consent?

The audio of the events of the salon finally ceased, and the Blade’s visage reappeared. “Did any of that confuse you, Leliana?” Aloisia asked.

“No, Lady Blade,” Leliana answered quietly. “All the same, I fear that your entrance into the Great Game will have repercussions that will need to be addressed very quickly and a great deal more delicately. Three matters in particular strike me as needing immediate attention, as well as a fourth matter that need not be addressed so quickly.”

“I’m listening,” the Blade said. “What are these things that require such action? And can I see to any of it before returning to Haven?”

“For one such matter, yes,” Leliana said, very pleased that the Blade was willing to take responsibility for her actions, and to listen to her advisors. Too many nobles had the arrogance to believe themselves above the concerns of others, and that had been a weakness that had led to the undoing of many of Justinia’s enemies by Leliana’s hands. “This matter will require you to stop at the Circle in Montsimmard. You have just deposed their First Enchanter, and the mages there will need reassurances of what will happen to them. They will either need to elect a new First Enchanter, join with the other rebel mages in Redcliffe, or else become true apostates and become a real problem in Orlais.”

“Why can’t we simply recruit them into the Inquisition?” Aloisia asked. “With their leader deposed for abuse of her magic, this is as good an opportunity as ever to make sure that none of the other mages at Montsimmard have taken to following Vivienne’s example. And if they are uncertain if they can remain in their Circle… We do need mages to close the Breach. One Circle’s worth of mages might not be enough, but it’s a good start, and it would give us credibility with the mages in Redcliffe so long as we treat them with respect and with dignity.”

“That is… That is actually a very good idea,” Leliana admitted. It was such an obvious solution that she was aghast that she hadn’t thought of it herself. “Regardless, the situation needs to be dealt with. Will you head to Montsimmard before returning to Haven?”

“Most definitely, Sister Leliana. One thing does confuse me, however. After I called for her arrest, Vivienne surrendered peacefully, and she has not made any trouble that I have been able to observe. Do you believe she’s waiting for a chance to escape? Or does she have some reason to surrender without a fight?”

Leliana shook her head with a smile, trying to remember if she had ever been that naïve herself. “Vivienne played the Game, and she made moves that she never expected to be challenged. When you did so, you revealed how weak her hand truly was. Her surrender is an acknowledgment that you beat her. She will try to maintain her dignity until the very end, but she likely won’t try to escape or to do you any harm.”

Aloisia grumbled under her breath. Leliana wasn’t sure, but she believed that the Blade was cursing out Orlais, depending on what the word ‘kriff’ meant. “Now then,” Aloisia said with clarity and purpose, “what was the second matter that had you concerned?

Leliana sighed, for this matter was far more delicate. “The second and third matters are quite similar. Vivienne was not just First Enchanter of the Circle at Montsimmard, she is the Court Enchanter to Empress Celene of Orlais. It had been a mostly ceremonial role, no more important than a court jester, until Vivienne made it a position with actual power. The Empress of Orlais is not someone we can afford to have as an enemy, even if she is busy with a civil war of her own.

“And while Empress Celene is a powerful woman, her relationship with Vivienne is a political one. The third problem is Duke Bastien, along with his wife and son. Vivienne was the duke’s mistress, and she was on very good terms with the whole family. Duke Bastien is one of the Council of Heralds, the seven Orlesian nobles who have ultimate power over noble titles, and even the Orlesian throne itself. He is not a man you want to have as an enemy, and even with Josie’s touch, that may not be something we can avoid.”

Aloisia nodded, her hand holding her chin as she thought. “I believe you are right that both of these issues would best be handled by Josephine, quite possibly requiring her to pay an official visit to the Empress, and perhaps Duke Bastien as well. I will instruct you on how to take every part of this conversation we are having – including the events at Vivienne’s salon – and play them back at a later time. When you have privacy later on, I would ask that you follow my instructions to listen to the events as many times as you need, and then create a written transcript for the Empress to view. If you think the duke will listen to reason, then by all means, share it with him as well. I can add my own testimony if that will help. Perhaps if it is written in either an agent’s hands or else in Josephine’s own… That I will leave to your judgment.

“The Empress will need to read that verbatim exchange if she is to accept that I acted justly. Josephine would be best served, I believe, by convincing Celene that it would do her more harm than good to keep a maleficar as part of her court. If she doesn’t acquiesce, then we send copies of the transcript far and wide to force her hand. That would be my solution. If you have a better idea, then I will submit to your superior knowledge in this arena. As for the duke… You and Josephine would have a better idea of how to handle him than I do.”

The idea of submitting a written, verbatim record did have a certain amount of merit, Leliana had to admit. All the same, no matter what they did, the Empress of Orlais would find herself backed into a corner thanks to the Inquisition. Josephine and Leliana would both need to call in a number of favors to keep the Inquisition in Celene’s good graces. And of course, it would depend on just how stubborn Celene proved to be. In some ways, she was far more progressive than any of her predecessors. All the same, no Empress or Emperor could afford to show any sort of weakness. Duke Bastien would be a more delicate matter to handle, given his failing health. Overtures to his son and heir, Laurent, would be a better use of time and resources.

All of this would be difficult to handle, but these were the cards that they had been dealt, so to speak. “Tell me how to ‘replay’ this conversation, as you call it, and I will do my best to write it down. If I need further help, I will contact you with this strange device. It’s an amazing thing, I have to say. If I had enough for all of my agents… Well, at the very least, it is already proving invaluable. It is a major advantage, and I need not tell you to keep it secret, no?”

“You most certainly do not,” Aloisia Kallig replied with a smile. “And I need not tell you the same, either, I’m sure. What is the fourth matter that concerned you? The less immediate one, was it?”

“Yes, Lady Blade. Quite simply, what will we do with this Marquis that you have taken into custody?”

“Ah, that won’t be a problem,” Aloisia assured her. “That was a simple gesture meant to protect him from Vivienne’s wrath. Alphonse de Mont-de-glace has since told me that his actions were spurred by Vivienne herself, and that he wishes to win back the honor he lost in that salon by pledging his sword to the Inquisition. I set him free, so if he honors his words and finds his way to Haven, have him report to Cullen. Then we will see if he has any real skill, or failing that, then hopefully potential, at least.”

“I see,” Leliana said carefully. In order to preserve the Blade’s reputation in the Game, the erstwhile Marquis would need to be kept out of sight. Either that, or there would need to be a formal declaration drafting him into the Inquisition’s armies. “I’ll take the necessary arrangements to make sure this doesn’t come back to hurt you, Lady Blade. The Great Game never stops,” after all.

Aloisia waved a hand as if to dismiss the matter. “I trust your judgment, Sister Leliana. Do you have any other concerns?”

Actually, there was one thing on Leliana’s mind. “It is not a concern so much as it is a curiosity. You mentioned that it is still dark where you are, and yet the sun is rising in Haven. How did you know that there would be a difference? How is it even possible for it to be dark in one place while the sun rises in another?”

Aloisia let out a grunt of annoyance. “I sometimes forget how little you know about the universe around you. That goes for all of Thedas, not just you. Simply put, the world is always moving. The world is a sphere, and one full turn of its axis is one day. The surface of the world faces the sun during the day, and then the world keeps turning and it faces away from the sun at night. A ‘sunrise’ is merely the world you are standing on turning to face the sun. Ghislain is further west than Haven, so while you currently face the sun, it will be a few hours before I do so as well.”

The enormity of what the Blade had just said was delivered so casually… Leliana could not believe it. The very world itself could move?! Not only that, but it had been moving every day, and that the cycle of day and night itself… Aloisia’s explanation flew in the face of certain parts of the Chant of Light. She might accept them as simple fact, but if anyone else were to hear this exchange…

“You cannot share this knowledge,” she hissed at the small visage of Aloisia Kallig. “And the next time I ask a question that might have blasphemy as its answer, please do me the courtesy of forewarning me.” Leliana did not mean to snap back at the Blade, but such a thing could lead to disaster if handled improperly.

“Duly noted, Sister Leliana,” Aloisia said with an entirely inappropriate grin on her face. “And now, I have one last matter to share with you. I would prefer to tell you in person, but I fear that time may not be on our side.” Aloisia took a deep breath, and Leliana had a feeling that she was about to hear things that she would not like to hear. “In the course of conversation, Solas all but confirmed that an artifact was responsible for the creation of the Breach. More than that, he believes that it survived, and he implied that he would recognize it even in pieces.”

Leliana couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “He just let that slip? Are you sure this is not an attempt to mislead you?”

“Solas is a humble apostate in appearance alone,” Aloisia said, her voice grim and firm. “When he speaks, he speaks with confidence in his knowledge, and he treats his words as undisputed fact. He is profoundly arrogant, and he loves to believe himself to be not only right with his knowledge, but to be the one teaching such knowledge to everyone else. Those are my impressions of him, at least. It is a wonder we haven’t faced more Pride Demons coming after him.”

Leliana filed the words away as notable intelligence on a potential enemy. “I’ll step up my investigations into him, and I’ll keep an ear to the ground for any unusual artifacts, either elven or Tevinter. Sometimes they are one and the same.”

“Take extreme caution, Leliana,” the Blade warned, and the omission of ‘Sister’ from her name did not escape Leliana’s notice. What was really on Aloisia’s mind? “Discretion and stealth are of paramount importance here. Solas may not have directly caused the Breach, but he seems to know the source of it. He is helping us now, or at least he appears to be. Judging by the tone he used when he stubbornly refused to believe the artifact was destroyed, I suspect that he means to use the Inquisition to acquire whatever he believes to have caused the Breach, though to what end, I could not say.

“We need to know more about Solas, but given his closeness to the cause of the Breach, to the Conclave, and to my own person and the mark on my hand… I wonder if Solas is acting alone. He may simply be one agent in some unknown network. This feels far too similar to the events leading up to the fight with Zildrog and all that followed. I have a very bad feeling about this, Leliana, and one of the core tenets of my ‘magical’ knowledge is that feelings are a guide to be ignored at one’s own peril.”

Maker help her, but Leliana thought that Solas actually seemed to frighten Aloisia Kallig. The Blade of the Maker was many things, but she was no coward. She was, perhaps, a bit paranoid. All the same, paranoia was what kept the best players of the Game alive. It wasn’t paranoia when there really were knives in every shadow.

“I’ll look into it. In the meanwhile, be careful. Elven ears are not just for show. They hear more keenly than humans. And do try to get some sleep. Unrested and scared, you will put yourself in many kinds of danger.”

At that, the Blade of the Maker actually chuckled. “You sound like my wife. Always trying to protect me from myself.” As the words left her lips, the Blade’s body language suddenly shifted into apparent unease. “And… Yes. Rest would be good. We’ll talk again soon, I promise.”

Leliana had not gotten to where she was now by missing such obvious clues that the Blade was dropping, even if she didn’t mean to. Leliana didn’t know if she was meant to understand it, but Aloisia Kallig had most assuredly not been speaking to her about talking again soon.

Taking one last deep breath, Leliana reaffirmed her gaze. “If there is nothing else, then I will get to work.”

“Thank you,” the Blade said, clearly tired. “May the Force serve you well, Sister Leliana.”

The benediction was unfamiliar, but the sentiment was welcome all the same. “May the Maker watch over you, Lady Kallig.” The visage of the Blade moved her right hand to her left wrist, and then it began to flicker before disappearing entirely.

The sun was still rising – or rather, the world was still moving – and Leliana’s coming day was already full with a potential diplomatic crisis, not to mention the possibility of a rival spy network with an agent already insulated into the Inquisition’s inner circle. It would be a busy day, but Leliana would be a fool if she imagined that this would be the worst of it. No, the worst was yet to come.

More than the prospect of future tragedy was the prospect of something that had the Blade of the Maker on edge. Between the tales she had told, the technology that she had entrusted to Leliana, the knowledge of untold power literally beyond the stars… Aloisia Kallig had faced more than Leliana was capable of imagining, and she was scared. Leliana did not want to think about the havoc that Aloisia Kallig could wreak if she succumbed to her fear.

And that was enough to make Leliana herself very, very afraid.

Upon his return to their shared quarters at the Ghislain chantry, Solas had been incredibly surprised to find that the woman who had invited Aloisia to a party was now a prisoner for him to watch over alongside Cassandra, Varric, and Sera. The newest addition to their group was an especially painful companion. Sera was not only as far from what she ought to be as possible, but she seemed to revel in her pitiful nature. She appeared to identify herself based solely on her social class, casting aside her proud racial heritage as if it was to be disdained.

Solas wanted to feel pity for Sera, but he couldn’t help but be disgusted by her open rejection of all things elven. Varric was similar in how he seemed too comfortable being so unlike how his kind ought to be, but at least he did not shove that difference down anyone’s throat. Cassandra was a woman who, to her credit, disdained pretense of any sort. She seemed to speak and act exactly according to her beliefs, and she did no more or less than any human had any business doing.

As for Enchanter Vivienne, Solas both admired Aloisia for arresting her while questioning if she had done the right thing. Vivienne was a powerful woman, with connections and skills that could have served the Inquisition well. But Aloisia had let her moral compass remain uncompromised. She had invoked the very specific part of the Chant of Light that was used to justify the horrors of the Circles, but she had used it to stop what she believed was a genuine injustice.

Once upon a time, Solas would not have thought twice about freezing someone in place if only to stop them from being an annoyance. Today, he only held himself back because of how he would be judged. And yet, he could not help but admire Aloisia Kallig for seeming to force everyone to recognize the hypocrisy of their religion by going out of her way to use what had once been a justification for evil and turning it towards something truly noble.

Vivienne would have been more useful as an ally than as a prisoner, but Solas would not second-guess Aloisia in this regard. He might offer her advice later on, in private, as to how future situations could be handled better, but a united front was required now.

When Cassandra came and offered to watch Vivienne in his stead, Solas thanked her quietly and made his way to a proper bed for the first time in centuries, and then he fell out of one state of consciousness and into the Fade. He had barely had time to recognize the familiar green glow of the Fade before he was met with a familiar and welcome presence. Wisdom had clearly been waiting for him. One of his oldest friends, Wisdom appeared to Solas as an androgynous elven body with a face that was constantly changing. The two of them had engaged in many a lively debate as to why Wisdom appeared as such to Solas, and while all of their debates ended in disagreement as often as they did not, they were always welcome exchanges.

“My friend,” Solas said warmly. “Have you been waiting for me?”

“Yes, I have!” Wisdom said, its voice full of glee. “I have witnessed things since last you slept. Extraordinary things. New things that I cannot yet explain! It is wondrous and exciting, and I would very much like to understand how you view these new… They seem to be memories, but I am unsure. And yet, they have already left a lasting impression on the Fade itself.”

Solas was equal parts intrigued and nervous. “The Fade reflects the physical world. Are you saying that someone’s dream was so potent as to leave a lasting mark here in this realm?”

“I am unsure,” Wisdom admitted, but there was no shame when they did so. Wisdom was not one to feel uncomfortable when confronted with the unknown, but excitement at the possibilities of new lessons to be learned. “I do not know if it is a dream, a memory, or some combination of both. As for who left the impression, I believe it is one or two people, though not necessarily as you define ‘people.’”

Solas was grateful for Wisdom’s thoughtfulness in clarifying that last part, but he was still confused. “Is it one individual or is it two of them? It’s unlike you to be so vague.”

Though he could not see their face, Solas sensed that Wisdom was smiling at him in that way they tended to do when they were trying to teach him a lesson. “I meant what I said, Solas. It was either one person or it was two people, and I am unsure as to which. It is quite exciting. Please, follow me and let us work out this mystery together.”

Solas had rarely seen Wisdom so eager, and he followed his friend without further protest or debate. In the Fade, one’s perception became one’s reality. Here in this realm, Solas could will himself to be capable of flight, and so he flew beside Wisdom through the dreamscape until they passed through an invisible barrier and found themselves inside of a building unlike any Solas had ever seen before.

There were no windows, and the walls were made of white and gray metals with gold ornamentations. Occasionally, one of the walls would have a desk of some sort jutting out, with switches and buttons and glowing lights that made no sense to Solas. There were panels on the walls that looked almost like windows, but Solas could see nothing through them.

“Yes, yes! These panels are truly wonderful,” Wisdom said, their voice full of glee. “To us, we know not what to expect. And yet, to someone who is familiar with these halls, who knows what they might see? I do believe that these are windows of a kind, but not like the glass in the middle of a wall. From the traces of memory here, they seem to be akin to eluvians, but not of the sort that you pass through. Were there not once such windows – smaller than a proper eluvian – that you could see through as if through a pane of glass, and speak with someone on the other side?”

Solas felt his eyebrows raise at the prospect. “Such things were once common, it is true. And yet, never have I seen anything like this corridor we find ourselves in. Whose memory is this, Wisdom? Does it belong to one or to two individuals?”

“I am unsure, just as I am unsure if there even are one or two people to begin with! But lest you wonder, this corridor is not part of a castle as you know it, but merely part of a tower far grander than even the Elvhen had ever built.”

“Truly?” Solas wondered at his friend’s enthusiasm. Wisdom was not given to lies or exaggerations. It simply was not in their nature. “If I am not mistaken, you are keen to show me the top of this tower, yes?”

“Indeed, Solas. Come, follow me.”

Wisdom could have simply willed them to the top of the tower, so the journey up must have something worth seeing. Indeed, as they approached a wall, it split into three sections that divided and slid aside to reveal that the corridor went on even further. It was impressive, even if the architecture was inelegant compared to the wonders of the Elvhen.

At the end of the corridor was a half-cylinder that opened to reveal a full cylinder into which Wisdom invited Solas. “This was known to the dreamer as a ‘turbolift.’ It could take them to almost any place in this vast tower within seconds. We need not pass such time, but we should let the doors close on this corridor,” they said as the doors did close.

“And now, let them open and show us the top of the tower,” Wisdom said, and the door did open to reveal a truly incredible sight.

Solas stepped forward onto an elevated path stretching out in front of him.  At the end of the walkway was a small dais, but whatever might have been atop of it was shrouded and hazy, as though it were simply inscrutable to the spirits of the Fade.  “My friend,” Solas asked of Wisdom, “why is that, over there, shrouded?  Can no spirit truly make any sense of it?  Not even you?”

For the first time since meeting his wonderful friend many centuries ago, Wisdom prevaricated, and it was simply wrong.  It was not in Wisdom’s nature to withhold knowledge or to fail to seek it out.  That was what made it Wisdom.  “Some things, Solas,” it said carefully, “are dangerous to behold.  Old things – older than you or me – that are instinctually ignored and deliberately not reflected out of fears borne of distant memory.”

It was shocking to Solas to see Wisdom admitting to something – fear – so drastically different from its purpose, but the implication that it wasn’t just Wisdom, but all spirits that failed to reflect this particular thing…  It was a mystery.  He desperately wanted to know more, but he didn’t want to risk distressing his friend.  Not only out of courtesy, but could something such as this pervert Wisdom from its purpose?  The Breach had certainly done so to countless other spirits already.

“I do not claim to understand, my friend, but I won’t trouble you any further.  Despite this, you brought me here for a reason.  Surely there is more that you wanted to share, yes?”  As he spoke, Solas looked around him, trying to spot what Wisdom wanted to show him.  As he looked, he saw that all around him – above, below, to the sides, and facing forward – he could see that he was within a sphere of glass.  And outside the glass was the night sky, but it was filled with strange shapes that moved through the darkness as if with some sort of purpose.

More than that, however, was the remarkable sensation of looking down and seeing just how high this tower truly was. If Solas were to guess, the bright sphere beneath him, with smaller towers jutting up into view, was the world itself. And yet, this could not be. No such towers existed, nor had they ever existed.

“My friend,” Solas said, “while this is truly wondrous, it is surely little more than a flight of fancy, albeit one with extraordinary detail.”

Wisdom shook its head, clearly eager to prove something to Solas. “Come with me, back to the turbolift. I need to show you whose memory this is, for I believe it to be a memory, even if I am not entirely certain. Come! Come!”

Solas followed his friend, for Wisdom never did anything without purpose. Such was its nature. Another entrance into the lift, the doors closed and opened again, and they walked down another hallway until they turned and found a room that held a number of rectangular slabs of grey matter, though they seemed to be sculpted in the form of people. Individuals, that is, not the People.

“Watch carefully now,” Wisdom said, its voice holding barely concealed glee.

Solas did watch as a human woman approached a device of some sort next to the foremost slab of matter. She wore black armor unlike anything he had seen before, her hair was short and blonde, but her eyes were truly remarkable. They were a burning, golden hue that was unlike anything a human had any right to have. Such eyes were the mark of the Evanuris and their most dedicated servants. It was a sign of power. Even if Mythal was right and her ‘daughters’ also shared these eyes, it was likely due to their connection to the best of the Evanuris – betrayed by her brethren for her conscience – more than anything else.

And yet, this human with the golden eyes – possibly similar to Flemeth, possibly holding a piece of one of the ancient Elvhen within her – set about her business and tapped a few buttons, and the grey slab began to melt. The human shape within the slab began to come into focus, and Solas realized that it was none other than Aloisia Kallig.

“Don’t try to move. You’re dying,” the blonde woman said. “I may have your cure, but I’m not going to lie… This will hurt.” So saying, the woman held up a device that shot some sort of dart into Aloisia’s body, appearing to inject her with some sort of potion. Was it a kind of medicine?

As Aloisia collapsed to the floor in pain, the blonde woman put away the device and put one hand to her chest, a cautious look on her face. “There, that wasn’t… quite so bad?” she said, as if hoping she could will it to be so.

“Lana,” Aloisia said, the name like a prayer on her lips. “You saved my life.”

“I spared you from dying this very instant,” the woman who had to be Lana Beniko corrected her. “We have quite a ways to go yet.”

Solas looked to Wisdom. “Just where are we?” he asked. “Where is this memory from?”

“This building is called ‘the Spire,’” Wisdom said. “This particular building is one of some importance, for from above, we could see other, smaller buildings stretching out of the sky. And all of this is on – or sometimes above – a world known as ‘Zakuul.’ There are cities unlike anything in this world, and swamps stretching on for thousands of kilometers, as this memory measures distance. And as far as I know, no one there has ever heard of an elf, a dwarf, or a Qunari. Or at least, that is what the impression left by this memory tells me.”

“Impossible,” Solas said reflexively, but then he rewound Wisdom’s words in his mind. “You called this place, Zakuul… You called it ‘a world.’ Is it like the Fade? Some other place where the eluvians might lead?”

“No, not at all!” Wisdom said, positively beaming. You saw it beneath the sphere of glass. You saw Zakuul from above. Far away from Zakuul is another sphere with lands and oceans beneath it, and that is where you will find Thedas and the Fade.”

Solas was a proud man, and while it hurt to be humbled, this particular revelation was especially painful. “Other worlds? Other realms outside of any Elvhen influence? How? How many? For how long?”

“I do not know,” Wisdom confessed. “But there was one other world that I saw formed from dreams, but I would advise against mentioning it to Aloisia Kallig when you wake up. She blames herself, as does Lana Beniko. Or at least, I believe she does? I’m still not quite sure what exactly Lana Beniko is. A memory of Aloisia Kallig, yes. Or perhaps something more than just a memory. I do believe she may still have some impact on the Fade, but her arrival and departure from the Fade is so exactly in tune with Aloisia Kallig… I do not know the connection yet, but it is definitely something to ponder. Now come, Solas. I must show you Ziost.”

“Is this yet another world entirely? So soon?” Solas asked, still unable to truly conceive of such a notion.

“Yes, indeed. But something terrible befell this world, so I will show you Ziost as it was before its fall. A world with cities of metal and fields of ice.” And so the Fade shifted and Solas found himself taking in a city unlike any he had seen. There were a few towers, but nothing as grand as what he had seen jutting up into the night sky on Zakuul. This could be a city in Orlais, but for the black metal and the red adornments. It felt quite dark and militant, but also dignified and refined. That could be chalked up to the perceptions of whomever this memory belonged to, however.

Besides the architecture were the people. All of them human, all in strange garb similar to the armor that Lana Beniko had worn, and yet different. Many of them were dressed so similarly that it had to be a uniform of some sort. Beyond the city were trees and grasses and many unfamiliar animals that might have drawn more attention had Solas not been distracted by the sheer strangeness of the concept of other worlds.

“And now,” Wisdom said with sadness, “this is Ziost after its death. This is what Aloisia Kallig and – I think – Lana Beniko both blame themselves for.”

The Fade shifted again, and Ziost was entirely changed. The metal buildings still stood, but there was no sign of life. No humans, no animals, no plants of any kind. The world itself seemed to have up and died. Even the sky seemed to be dead, devoid of any sort of color other than a dead, disgusting brown-grey lack of hue.

“Why does Aloisia blame herself for this?” Solas couldn’t help but wonder. “Is this her doing?”

“She couldn’t stop it,” Wisdom said sadly, “and so she blames herself. She does know where the fault truly lies, but all the same, she can’t help but wonder, ‘What if I was faster? Smarter? Better? Could I have saved them?’”

Such devastation… Even brining the Veil into being hadn’t caused this level of emptiness. Life in the world might be hollow, but it was still better than this complete nothingness. “How, my friend? How did this happen?”

Wisdom hesitated. “I would not want to burden you with too much to ponder all at once, but there are ancient myths from the oldest days of Elvhenan, are there not? Of those who came from the sky?”

Solas waved a dismissive hand at the notion. “Flights of fancy, nothing more. If there was any truth to such stories, they would be known. All the same, you have shown me much, and indeed given me a great deal to think about. I thank you as always, my friend.” Yes, all of this certainly was worth a great deal of thought. Perhaps Aloisia had not been frozen for five months by a Tevinter slaver owner, as she had claimed, but rather frozen in a solid, grey brick for some unknown time until Lana Beniko freed her.

And if that part of what he had seen was true, then what was the truth behind Aloisia Kallig? Who was she? Where had she come from? What was she, truly? Solas realized how little he truly knew, and he also realized that the Blade of the Maker was far more of an unknown variable than he had even begun to imagine…

This could not end well. Maybe Solas could get his answers, but he feared that all of his hopes and dreams might be shattered by the revelation. Perhaps it was better if he did not pursue this any further. Better to think of Aloisia Kallig as just another obstacle in his path. It would not be fair to her, but it would be best to remove any doubt from his mind so as to help save the Elvhen from the fate he had doomed them to so long ago.

It was an imperfect solution, but Solas had long ago accepted that he was an imperfect man. At the very least, he didn’t need to entertain long-discarded myths about people from beyond the stars. Solas knew with absolute certainty that there was no such thing as a Skywalker.

Chapter Text

Varric let out a low whistle. “You’re telling me that this is a Circle tower? I mean, yeah, this is Orlais. But even still…”

Aloisia couldn’t help but agree with Varric’s sentiment. From her time among the mages in Redcliffe, she had come to understand that the Circles of Magi were grim places by necessity, lest anyone begin to harbor sympathy for the mages living therein. The Circle at Montsimmard, however, was a gleaming spire of white and gold, though Cassandra assured her that it was nothing compared to the splendor of the White Spire in Val Royeaux.

Aloisia steeled her nerves, forcing herself to remember why they were here. “Just because it looks fancy on the outside doesn’t mean that it’s all sunshine and rainbows on the inside. Varric, Sera, would you mind watching over our prisoner? If she makes any attempt to attack or to escape, then feel free to kill her. Otherwise, just make sure she doesn’t go anywhere. Cassandra, Solas, please come with me. You both likely have knowledge and context that I lack.”

A series of acknowledgments followed as they all dismounted. Solas had been riding the horse carrying the small cage on wheels that contained Vivienne de Fer. He had made the point about it being a servant’s role, and the need to keep up appearances, but Aloisia had the feeling that Solas was enjoying his role a bit more than he was trying to let on. Sera was not happy to be anywhere near so many mages, but Varric had been able to reassure her, and Aloisia had made sure to allow them their weapons and armor.

A pair of Templars stood guard outside the doors to the Circle tower, and Aloisia took point and made sure to breathe as she prepared to deal with them. She made sure not to have her hands near her weapons as she approached, flanked on either side by Cassandra and Solas.

“Agents of the Inquisition,” one of the Templars, an olive-skinned man, perhaps in his thirties, greeted them tersely. “We received word that you were coming. News of the circumstances surrounding this visit has also reached us.”

“That being said,” the other Templar remarked, “the accounts are varied and, um… Quite wild.” She was a fair-skinned woman with short blonde hair, slightly younger than her fellow soldier. “Before we let you in, we would greatly appreciate it if you could clarify exactly what it is that happened at Duke Bastien’s estate.”

“Certainly, I would have it no other way,” Aloisia said. “Before that, however, a round of introductions. I am Aloisia Kallig, known by some as the Blade of the Maker. Beside me are Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand to Divine Justinia V, as well as Solas, an Inquisition expert on matters of magic.”

Word had surely spread about the Blade of the Maker, but the realization that the Right Hand of the late Divine was right there with them seemed to spur the Templars to attention. “Right. Lady Blade, Seeker Pentaghast,” the male Templar said, “I’m Ser Francis, and this is Ser Lucia.”

“At ease, soldiers,” Aloisia said. “The honor is ours, to be sure,” she said with a polite smile. “But as to the circumstances surrounding Vivienne de Fer’s custody… I would pose a question to you, as Templars sworn to protect the people of Thedas. If one of your charges were to freeze a non-mage in place, binding them with ice magic while proceeding to lecture and humiliate them, and quite possibly threatening to have them killed, what would you do to that mage?”

“Such a thing would be dealt with harshly and immediately!” Ser Francis exclaimed, as if the notion itself was offensive. To him, it probably was, Aloisia thought.

“Agreed,” Ser Lucia said. “The offender would be either executed or made Tranquil. Most likely the former, to avoid anyone else getting any ideas from their continued presence.”

Aloisia shrugged her shoulders casually, pleased to hear death advocated over Tranquility, even if not for the reasons she would prefer. “Then you see why I arrested Lady Vivienne. She is the First Enchanter of this Circle, no? And yet, she is allowed to live outside of the tower while her charges remained imprisoned here. She is free to use and abuse her magic to play the Great Game, going so far as to provoke a young nobleman to confront me, all to set the stage for her to freeze him in place to make an entrance. And she feely admitted that she would have killed him had I asked it of her. To be clear, the man was no threat to me, and he would not have been anywhere near such a state of mind without having being spurred on by the woman you allowed to become First Enchanter.”

Ser Francis’s olive-hued face began to visibly pale. “Surely not! The First Enchanter would never-“

“Oh, shut up, Francis!” Ser Lucia interjected angrily. “We’ve heard complaints going back several years, but ‘Madam de Fer’ was always able to cover her tracks, or assert her authority, or else intimidate witnesses into keeping quiet. It’s an open secret here that Vivienne is as ambitious and ruthless as anyone else playing the Great Game, Lady Blade. And the Game allows a great deal of leeway in what is allowed.”

“So I understand,” Aloisia said. “Lies, blackmail, murder, and far more, or so I’ve heard. All commonplace among the nobility of Orlais in the name of the Great Game. Again, only so far as I’ve heard. None of which any upstanding Chantry cleric would sanction from anyone of a lower social station. And now, it seems, magic is also allowed to be used to carry out such schemes. You have as good as admitted that you knew of these malpractices, but were powerless to stop them. You no longer have to worry about that burden.

“All the same, this Circle now lacks its First Enchanter, and I would very much like to speak to the remaining Senior Enchanters to discuss what is to become of this Circle with Vivienne under arrest,” Aloisia said. “Given the delicate state of affairs across Thedas right now involving magic, I would see this issue resolved sooner rather than later. Ser Francis, I have two people guarding Vivienne right now, but I would feel much safer if a Templar was there to suppress her magic, just in case.”

Poor Ser Francis was likely either an apologist for Vivienne or else simply afraid of her, given how he was hemming and hawing and generally standing around looking awkward.

“Ser Francis of Montsimmard,” Cassandra said sharply. The Templar snapped to attention at the direction of the Seeker. “You will do the Maker’s work and watch over a mage who has proven herself a danger to others, who has used her magic to rule over man. There is no greater need for a Templar than this. See to your duty.”

That was enough to get Ser Francis out of his stupor. “Yes, of course. At once, Lady Cassandra,” he said as he swiftly made his way to the cage holding Vivienne.

“Curious,” Solas remarked. “He responded more readily to a Seeker than to the Blade of the Maker herself.”

“Templar training, Serah Solas,” Ser Lucia explained. If she had any issues about speaking to an elf with respect, Aloisia could not hear it in her speech or see it in her face or body language. “Templars always dread having a Seeker show up. No offense intended, Lady Blade, but the fear of a Seeker’s retribution is more ingrained than… Permission to speak frankly, my lady?”

Aloisia smiled. Ser Lucia struck her as a very smart woman, dedicated to her duty and fully aware of her true responsibilities. “I would very much appreciate pure candor from you, Ser Lucia. Consider that a standing offer to speak your mind at will.”

The blonde Templar’s eyes widened as she saluted with her right fist over her heart. “As you say, Lady Blade. And with all due respect, nobody is quite sure what to make of you yet. You arrested Lady Vivienne, and that is no small feat. I think you’ll find some mixed opinions about your actions when you speak to the mages, but perhaps not so contentious as to be unable to find common ground among them.

“Like I said, people aren’t sure what to make of you yet, but speaking just for myself, ma’am?” Ser Lucia said, somewhat nervously, yet also emboldened by Aloisia’s invitation to speak her mind. “You sound like a proper Knight-Commander. That is to say, not a madwoman, not a hard-ass for the sake of it, not a soft-hearted apologist for anyone or anything. You sound like a woman in command of herself and of everything and everyone around her. I… I don’t know if you were sent by the Maker, but if you’re able and willing to clean up this Circle, then I’m sure that I can convince at least some of the other Templars still here to help you as best we can.”

Aloisia let her teeth show in a wide, white grin. “I am very pleased to meet a Templar of your caliber, Ser Lucia. Please, send word ahead to convene the Senior Enchanters, and then we’ll go and meet them.”

“Word was sent a while ago, my lady,” Ser Lucia said. “We did know that you were coming, and we predicted that you’d want to speak with those in charge. The senior enchanters – along with Knight-Commander Annalise – are waiting in the library. The other mages have been confined to their quarters for the time being at the Knight-Commander’s insistence. To avoid any unforeseen altercations that could arise, for everyone’s safety, that is.”

Aloisia had to admit that she was impressed by what little she could tell of the Templars here. Ser Francis was a nervous wreck, but Ser Lucia seemed entirely competent, and Knight-Commander Annalise had taken prudent precautions, but Aloisia would wait to make any judgments until she met the Knight-Commander in person, along with the Senior Enchanters.

“Very well, then,” Aloisia said. “Please, lead onward, Ser Lucia. I look forward to seeing this to a happy conclusion.”

Cassandra followed the Blade upwards into the Circle tower, towards the library with Solas walking beside her. Privately, Cassandra wondered why neither she nor Solas had been left to look after Vivienne. Varric and Sera were skilled in combat from what she knew of them – and that was admittedly very little in the case of Sera – but for all of their talent, neither of them had the training that a Seeker or a mage could call upon if the need so arose.

If she had to guess, Cassandra would wager that Lady Kallig was trying to present a united front to the mages and Templars of the Montsimmard Circle. The Blade of the Maker would have a Seeker to one side of her and a free mage on the other. Solas might not be Circle-trained, but for a hedge-mage, he was surprisingly knowledgeable. In some ways, the elf was much like the Blade herself, in that he was exactly what they needed, when and where they needed him.

Following that line of thought, Cassandra realized, could lead to a very uncomfortable place. All the same, she had not joined the Seekers of Truth simply to ignore said truth when it was not a pleasant or easy thing to face. She would follow these thoughts, but at another time. For now, she had to play the part of the Seeker while the Blade negotiated with the Knight-Commander and the Senior Enchanters.

Aloisia Kallig had only been a part of Cassandra’s life for a very short time, but she had definitely made an impact. If she had to use one word to describe the Blade of the Maker, it would be ‘formidable.’ Even as a prisoner, she had been able to assume authority as if obedience were naturally due to her. And according to the private tales that Cassandra had been privy to, the Blade likely felt justified in demanding obedience.

Cassandra would have feared Aloisia Kallig’s tenacity had it not been backed by sound judgment and a great deal of compassion. While she carried a commanding presence, the Blade also had a habit of encouraging those around her to speak entirely freely, opening herself up to any and all concerns. More than that, she listened and learned. Cassandra was still scared when she thought back to the display of power in the Hinterlands, when Aloisia had lifted so many people up into the air with a thought, and then told her that it was not the blood magic that it appeared to be.

And then in Val Royeaux, as if to answer those exact fears, the Blade stopped a Templar from assaulting Revered Mother Hevara by using the exact same spell, only to stop his armor and not his flesh. It was a subtle thing, but it meant a great deal to Cassandra. Far more, she realized, than she had yet to express to the Blade. She would amend that soon.

For now, Ser Lucia escorted them into the main library of the Circle tower. Two men and three women in Senior Enchanter’s robes stood on either side of a desk, at which was seated a fair-skinned woman with greying black hair slicked back in a ponytail and piercing blue eyes in the armor of a Templar. Knight-Commander Annalise, Cassandra expected.

Ser Lucia took a stance at a respectful distance between the two groups. “Knight-Commander, Senior Enchanters, the agents of the Inquisition are here to see you.”

The Knight-Commander waved a dismissive hand. “Very good, Knight-Lieutenant. That will be all.”

“A moment, if I may?” Aloisia said.

The keen blue eyes of the Knight-Commander narrowed in what might be distaste. “Ah. The ‘Blade of the Maker,’ I presume?”

“Aloisia Kallig, at your service. I take it that you are Knight-Commander Annalise?”

“Knight-Commander Romaine, if it suits you,” she said seriously.

Aloisia inclined her head in respect. “Of course, Knight-Commander Romaine. Before we begin, I would like to request that the Knight-Lieutenant remain. Already, she has left a very positive impression on the kind of soldiers you command, and she had provided input that I have every reason to believe is valuable. I respectfully request that she remain so that she can provide a view that might be missed by those higher in the chain of command. If the Templar Order is anything like I’ve experienced, then the ranking officers deal with a different sort of trouble than the rank and file. I mean no disrespect to your authority, Knight-Commander. I merely ask that an extra viewpoint be available to provide clarity should the need arise.”

A series of looks passed between the Senior Enchanters, the Knight-Commander, and the Knight-Lieutenant. They obviously had their own dynamic here that allowed them some level of camaraderie to be able to communicate wordlessly so. Cassandra was familiar with the practice, and everyone who formed such a bond communicated in a unique way. The same looks could be exchanged by two different groups and mean two – or likely more – entirely separate things.

“Very well, Lady Kallig,” the Knight-Commander said. Cassandra did not miss that she refrained from referring to Aloisia as ‘Lady Blade.’ “So, you’ve come here to cure a massive headache of your own creation. Or am I mistaken?”

Cassandra had to restrain herself from groaning in disgust. Thankfully, Aloisia Kallig was a more patient sort of woman, or at least she was capable of such patience when the need arose. “Lest there be any doubt or misunderstanding, I will recount the events that led me to arrest First Enchanter Vivienne. And when I am done, I would like you to explain a few things about the First Enchanter, and whether such behavior is commonplace. And if it is, I would like to understand why it was allowed to happen in the first place.”

And so Cassandra listened once more as Aloisia recounted her tale. This was at least the third time that Cassandra had heard the story, and the Blade had never varied in her telling of it. The only part that Cassandra knew to be false was the part in the Blade’s past where her slave master froze her on and off for five months. This was most probably a way for the Blade to tell the tale of her being frozen solid for five whole years without it seeming entirely unbelievable. All the same, her voice took on the same hard edge whenever she recounted that part. It smacked of something personal to the Blade.

After her tale, Aloisia looked sideways to Ser Lucia. “The Knight-Lieutenant told me when I asked that had any mage in her charge done such a thing to anyone else, they would be executed or else subjected to the Rite of Tranquility. And so I ask you: how commonplace were such things under First Enchanter Vivienne? And as First Enchanter of a ‘loyal’ Circle, what business did she have throwing a party at the home of an Orlesian Duke?”

If looks could kill, then Knight-Commander Annalise Romaine would have struck the Blade dead then and there. “You are very obviously not Orlesian, Lady Kallig. One does not simply refuse a request from a member of the Council of Heralds. Not regarding his mistress, and certainly not when that mistress is part of the Empress’s court.”

Cassandra wasn’t sure, but she believed that the Blade’s thoughts regarding Orlais were similar to her own. Speaking only for herself, Cassandra believed that the decadence of the Orlesian nobility was disgusting, reminding her too much of her Nevarran relations and their obsession with bloodlines. As much as things were different in Nevarra and Orlais, they were also very much the same.

“I want to make sure I understand your position, Knight-Commander,” the Blade said, and her voice took on a hard edge that made her title seem all the more appropriate. “It is the view of the Templars of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi that the Empire of Orlais commands more authority than the Chantry and the commandments of the Maker. Or am I mistaken?”

Knight-Commander Romaine was silent as she stared daggers at the Blade. Finally, one of the Senior Enchanters, a bald, elderly man, cleared his throat. “If I may, Knight-Commander? My lady, I highly doubt you’ll find anyone who will officially subscribe to such an idea. The practical matter remains, however, that in Orlais especially, many people find little distinction between the nobility and the Chantry. The two become intermingled so easily, and with Vivienne’s rapid rise through the ranks, so now has the Circle become similarly entangled. It is hardly ideal, but it is the reality.”

The Blade nodded her head respectfully to the man. “Thank you for clearing that point up. Might I have the honor of your name, Senior Enchanter?”

The old man’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, um. Yes, of course. Gavin, my lady. Senior Enchanter, but you already know that.”

“A pleasure, Senior Enchanter Gavin. But as to the reality, what is real is that First Enchanter Vivienne is in my custody due to her abuse of magic of the exact sort that the Circles were first formed to guard against. The old reality need not apply. And I don’t believe my question was ever really answered. How commonplace are such things? In this Circle, in any other, or simply with Vivienne de Fer?”

For too long, nobody said a word, and the air felt as if it were going to choke Cassandra with all the tension she could feel. After several painful moments, the youngest of the Senior Enchanters, an auburn-haired woman with honey-brown eyes and familiar olive-hued skin audibly groaned. “Since nobody here seems to have the courage to admit the truth, then I guess I’ll be the one to step up. Lady Blade? Senior Enchanter Francine, at your service. It’s an open secret at this circle that Vivienne runs the show. Everyone from the Knight-Commander to the youngest apprentices lives and dies by her whims. The Knight-Commander acts in her stead while she’s off playing the Great Game. All the while she keeps us prisoner here, going on and on about the responsibility of ‘loyal’ mages to the people of Thedas while she flouts those same rules on a daily basis.”

That was too much for Cassandra to ignore. “Knight-Commander Annalise Romaine,” she said, stepping forward deliberately. “How do you answer these allegations?”

The Knight-Commander made an effort of staring down Cassandra before finally hanging her head and holding it up with her hands, elbows propped up on her desks. “You speak as if I had a choice in the matter. Were it up to me, Vivienne would have been made Tranquil long ago as an example to all who would follow in her ambitions. She may hail from the Free Marches, but she has all the ambition and cunning of a Tevinter magister. If I were to act against her, Empress Celene would call for my head, and someone else would be called in to replace me. Vivienne would have a personal say in the matter, and she would have gotten away with far more than she already has.”

Cassandra could sympathize, but only so far. Had Aloisia not drawn her sword of fire for Chancellor Roderick to see in-person, then she might be dealing with a very similar situation herself. “That is in the past,” Cassandra said with finality. “Now that Vivienne is in captivity, the Inquisition will need to answer those who question the charges. I imagine that the Duke and the Empress will be among them. If you are worried about a replacement, then I should tell you that the White Spire has been emptied, and Lord Seeker Lucius seems to have gone mad in a desire to purge every single mage in Thedas. Truly, I would not believe it had I not been there and heard him say so in person.”

“Surely not?! The Lord Seeker… Maker, I had heard tell, but I couldn’t bring myself to believe it.” Annalise Romaine shook her head, the truth of the situation clearly taking a toll on her. “Very well,” the Knight-Commander said in resignation. “I will testify to any who need to hear of such things. Maker forgive me, I have failed so entirely. Looking back, I could have done something. More than that, I should have done something, but I was too afraid of too many instances of ‘what could have been.’ And yet, as much as I wish to correct my past failings, I cannot leave this Circle without a proper Templar posting.”

“And with that out of the way,” Aloisia said, “I will come to the other reason why I am here. This Circle has no First Enchanter, and it will soon have no Knight-Commander. Vivienne claimed to command the last loyal mages in Thedas, but how many here are truly loyalists, and how many are here simply to give a face to Vivienne’s image in the Great Game? Knight-Lieutenant Lucia? Senior Enchanters? Have any of you an answer to this?”

“I think I’ll speak first,” Lucia said quickly. “With all due respect, Senior Enchanters, you each have your own colleges to think of, and I spend a great deal more time looking after the apprentices and novice enchanters.” The Knight-Lieutenant turned back to the Blade. “Quite simply? There are a mix of true loyalists and those who have been forcibly pressed into ‘loyalty’ here. A majority of the actual remaining loyalists migrated here after the vote to disband the Circles, and those who voted along such lines way were ‘encouraged’ to remain in Montsimmard.”

The Blade arched an eyebrow and turned back to the five Senior Enchanters. “Is this true?”

“As far as I can tell, it is,” Francine said. “David and Charlotte here are loyalists, and Charlotte has been here at Montsimmard since before I was born, though neither of them have ever shown any inkling towards politics like Vivienne, at least as far as I have seen. Gavin, Celeste, and myself would gladly take our charges and try our chances with the Grand Enchanter in Redcliffe.”

“To that, I offer an alternative,” the Blade said. “The death of Divine Justinia was a tragedy, but it is hardly the worst thing to come of the tragedy at the Conclave. Solas? Perhaps you can explain the magical threat better than I can.”

Right on cue, the elf stepped forward. “Aloisia is right. You cannot see it from this distance, but you may have heard of the Breach? Whatever stories you have heard, the reality is likely far worse. The sky is rent asunder, and above Haven, were you to look straight up, you would be gazing into a dark hole, on the other side of which lies the Fade, for the Veil itself is very literally split open. Smaller rifts have opened all across Thedas in its wake, with spirits pouring through and being driven mad, turning them into demons. You may not have encountered them yet, but if the Breach is not sealed, then the world as we know it will end.

“For the time being, the Breach is stable. All the same, there is only one thing that is capable of sealing the rifts, and hopefully the Breach itself. A mark has been left on Aloisia’s left hand, and this magic is the one and only thing capable of doing what needs to be done. Namely, closing the Breach and the other rifts that have opened in its wake. Many such smaller rifts have already been safely closed, but to deal with the Breach itself will require a greater level of power. With the aid of several other mages, and directed properly through the mark, we may yet seal the Breach and halt the course towards oblivion.”

“Maker have mercy,” Gavin said with a gasp. “I had thought the stories to be exaggerated, but here you are, agents of an Inquisition formed to deal with this very crisis, or so you would have us believe. I do not pretend to fully understand the situation, but if the threat is even a fraction as dire as you paint it to be… I will take what mages I can convince and bring them to your aid.”

“As will I,” Francine said.

“And I, as well,” another female mage said. “Senior Enchanter Celeste. I wish I could say it is a pleasure, but I would not wish to be called a liar.”

“I believe we all understand and feel similarly,” Cassandra added. Truly, this was not a situation that anyone wanted. It was, however, up to all of them to make the best of it.

“And that leaves the loyalist mages who may choose to remain here at Montsimmard. Is that your choice?” the Blade asked the remaining two Senior Enchanters.

An elderly woman with long, white hair sighed sadly. “I would very much prefer to remain here, where my faith tells me to stay. However, I am hesitant to do so without a proper Knight-Commander to watch over us.”

“What of your Knight-Captain?” the Blade asked Annalise Romaine. “Would he or she make a suitable replacement?”

The Knight-Commander spat to her side. “Maker, no! Thomas is Vivienne’s puppet. Or her enforcer, depending on who you ask. No, he will not do. But neither can I leave this Circle unattended. I do, however, know of a very capable replacement. She would have been my first choice for Knight-Captain, had Vivienne not overruled me. She is strong in both mind and body, and with a firm commitment to do right by not only mages, but by all the peoples of Thedas.”

With a sly smile, the Knight-Commander turned her eyes slightly to her side. “Knight-Lieutenant Lucia. I can only apologize for not giving you the treatment you have long deserved and earned several times over. Now I ask you to carry on where I no longer can. Do you believe you have what it takes to command this Circle of Magi?”

The Knight-Lieutenant seemed taken aback, and Cassandra could hardly blame her. It was quite a thing to be promoted so highly so quickly. “I… I would first ask Senior Enchanters Charlotte and David for their blessing. That is, if they believe I am worthy of such a post.”

“My dear, you have always been an exemplary Templar,” the man who had to be David said. “You may not have been officially recognized, but let it never be said that your actions have gone unnoticed. You are still young, but with time and guidance – limited guidance, I assure you – I believe you will fill the post splendidly. For my part, I am here to study magic, not to play any part in the Great Game.”

“I wholeheartedly agree, Lucia,” the elderly woman who had to be Senior Enchanter Charlotte said. “I also find no need to engage in politics and end up carved like a roast. But Lucia, you’ve always been vigilant, harsh when duty demanded it of you, and merciful and kind for all others. You are a model of what the Templar order should be, and may yet be again when this crisis is resolved,” the woman said before turning to face the Blade.

“I will not be accompanying you back to Haven, my lady,” Charlotte said kindly. “With that being said, however, I do wish you and your Inquisition every success. If the threat is truly so dire, we would be mad not to worry. And while we may not join you in person, I believe we can liaise with your people. With this Circle’s resources, we can maintain a level of research that the Fiona and her people may not be able to in Redcliffe, and if that can help at all against the Breach, then you shall have our aid.”

“Well-spoken,” Knight-Commander Romaine said. “Now, Lucia. Do this old woman a favor and accept the damned post. You have the needed qualities, and you have the support of your charges, as well as my own. Can I count on you, Knight-Commander?”

The younger Templar did credit to her uniform by standing to attention and saluting crisply. “It would be my honor and duty. I accept. Lady Blade, I will confer with the remaining Senior Enchanters about keeping in touch with the Inquisition. For now, however, you have a great many people to transport, so allow me to arrange horses and carriages for the road ahead. We’ll also need to decide how many Templars to keep on hand here at the Circle and how many to transport with you, Lady Blade.”

Cassandra cursed herself for her harsh intake of breath at the newly-minted Knight-Commander’s words. Part of Aloisia Kallig’s formidability was such that the Inquisition’s approach to magic was already far more liberal than many people – Cassandra herself among them – were comfortable with. Solas was very openly in favor of mage freedom, and while the Blade was able to see things clearly for the most part, it did not mean that she did not have her own biases.

“I will stop you right there, Knight-Commander,” the Blade said. “Allow me to make clear my stance regarding mages and Templars and how they should interact with each other. Mages are natural. They are born with certain gifts, and I am of the belief that they ought to be free to practice their craft responsibly. That being said, I am not in favor of magic running amok and doing whatever it pleases. I believe that magic should be allowed to flourish just as any other craft would be, and that mages should educate themselves as to how to use their gifts with responsibility, as well as learning the mental and emotional discipline needed to avoid possession.

“That being said, if a mage were to break the law – with magic or without – then the Inquisition will punish such mages as befits the crime. It may not happen overnight, but I see no reason why we cannot lay the foundation for mages to police themselves. They know themselves and their gifts better than anyone. That is one side of the equation.”

Lucia and Annalise Romaine both wore looks of concern. “Are you saying that you do not intend to have Templars standing guard against dangerous apostates? Against abominations?” the former Knight-Commander almost accused.

The Blade did not hesitate. “For the time being, I would welcome any Templars who wish to help the Inquisition, but I would rather direct their efforts against those renegade mages who are killing indiscriminately, using their newfound freedom to wreak havoc rather than to live responsibly. And just as I understand mages to be born with their natural gifts, Templars are inherently unnatural. They are a creation of man, not of the Maker. From what I understand, a Templar takes holy vows, but it isn’t until they are dependent on the lyrium that the Chantry supplies do they truly come to understand what holds them in place.

“Templars suffer a different kind of slavery than mages, and in many ways, it is a far more insidious kind of trap,” Aloisia said in a low, cold voice. “I would have Templars and mages work together to find some way to suppress magic that does not require any person to become addicted to anything, nor to let anything dangerous into their bodies, willingly or otherwise.”

Cassandra had always known the cost of Templar abilities, but never had she thought of them as slaves of any kind. For a former slave – as the Blade claimed to be – to speak of both mages and Templars in such terms did not ease Cassandra’s mind one bit. On the one hand, despite being openly sympathetic towards mages, the Blade was not ignoring the plight of the Templars. For every Lord Seeker Lucius, there had to be just as many suffering as Commander Cullen did. As much as she hoped that most Templars saw things as Cullen did, was the cost truly worth it? Addiction was a terrible thing, but was it truly slavery? Now presented with the notion, Cassandra could not look away from it.

“Let me make clear to you the reality of the world today,” the Blade said as her eyes narrowed, and Cassandra suppressed a gasp at the thought of anyone, even the Maker’s chosen, presuming to define reality. “The Circles of Magi, save for this one here, are already gone. They are things of the past. The Templar Order is being led by a madman, and if it continues on its present course, then the Templars as we know them now will likewise cease to exist within a matter of years, if not sooner. Any student of Thedosian history could have seen this crisis coming for many centuries. Kirkwall was a tragedy, but it was an inevitable spark that set fire to kindling that has been building since the Chantry’s inception, if not longer.

“The former status quo is already gone, and I intend to do everything in my power to move forward and set in place something better than the chaos we have now. I am not going to decide the form that the new world will take, not on my own. Anyone willing to help to decide the future of the world is free to join the Inquisition in doing so. Templars as they are now will have a role for a time, but I would rather not subject anyone to the cruelty that they are presently forced to endure. Man created Templars, and man can stop creating Templars. Mages, however, will continue to be born, and we must find a way to coexist.”

Cassandra was beginning to wonder if she had made a terrible mistake in founding the Inquisition with Aloisia Kallig at its center. The chaos of today could not stand, but to take all that had come before and toss it aside in favor of something new and unknown… That had never been her intention. Cassandra had meant to restore order to the way it used to be, and now the Blade of the Maker – named as such by Cassandra herself, among others – was saying that the order that Cassandra wanted to restore was simply a thing of the past. It was not just a possibility to the Blade, but ‘reality,’ as she put it.

“This is not a political position. This is reality,” Aloisia reiterated. “The Chantry is in shambles, and its ability to control and distribute lyrium along with it. The crisis at hand is a result of centuries of Chantry-backed oppression of mages, as well as controlling Templars deliberately through lyrium addiction. This Circle tower seems far more lenient and luxurious than the ones I have heard talk about in Redcliffe. The Templars here seem well-trained and not given to the kinds of abuses that were common place at many other Circles. They loyalists among you need to understand that your treatment is the exception rather than the norm, hence the rebellion happening in the first place. If you have not heard, then I will tell you: as a former slave myself, I rebelled against a ruthless master and earned my freedom. I was never trained in a Circle, and yet I have resisted possession at every turn.

“So, there you have it. The reality of the world as it is today, whether you like it or not. The mages who voted for freedom will accompany us. Any Templars are free to do so as well, but their role will be to prepare for the next generation when there will no longer be any Templars. At least, that will be their role should they choose to join the Inquisition. And skilled soldiers are definitely needed to help maintain order. So long as we understand this reality, then I foresee no problems. No one will be forced into a role they do not wish to partake in. That being said, some roles are no longer relevant, and will not be part of the Inquisition.”

Cassandra had known that the Blade was in favor of freedom for mages, but the fervor with which she spoke about ‘reality’ was utterly terrifying, especially since she seemed to truly believe in what she was saying. Apart from that, the contrast she had drawn between ‘natural’ mages and ‘unnatural’ Templars was incredibly disturbing to hear. The possibility of Templars as Cassandra had always known them ceasing to be entirely, and within a matter of a few years, had never even occurred to Cassandra. The status quo regarding Templars could be maintained, but after looking after Cullen for only a few short months, Cassandra could no longer pretend that Templars were not victims, even if of a different sort than mages.

It wasn’t just the realization of Cullen’s suffering, and that of his brother and sister Templars. No, the Blade had made it clear that it was the Chantry that was to blame for their suffering. Magic was a gift from the Maker, or so the Chant of Light taught. But it had been mortal men and women who had created jailers for those born with such gifts. The very idea of treating magic as a gift of any sort was an academic one at best, but Aloisia Kallig had from the beginning made the notion of magic being simultaneously a gift and a responsibility to be one of the central pillars of the Inquisition.

The cause was not without merit, and was very possibly overdue. All the same, even with valid points to support the Blade’s arguments, the idea of such vast change happening on Cassandra's watch – when she had intended the exact opposite – was quietly horrifying. Perhaps it was simply a feeling of no longer being in control, for the Blade made points that were hard to debate against. Why, then, did Cassandra feel ill as she listened to the Blade make her case?

Meanwhile, the faces of the others in the room seemed at a loss as to how to deal with the ‘reality’ that the Blade had presented to them. For now, the Blade’s gaze was fixed on Lucia. A young woman, merely minutes into her position, was now forced to reckon with the force of personality that was Aloisia Kallig. Cassandra did not envy her.

It was a few very long and silent minutes before the new Knight-Commander spoke. “You have given all of us a great deal to think about, Lady Blade. Assuming your invitation to speak freely still holds, I will do so. I do not like to think about this new reality that you speak of. I do not believe it is as inevitable as you present it to be. All the same, I hardly believe that such a world is an impossibility. I will speak with the garrison and explain to them the Inquisition’s position regarding Templars and mages.

”Any Templars who wish to join you may do so, unless the number of volunteers threatens to leave this Circle understaffed. Similarly, we will not stop any mages who wish to travel with you. All the same, we will remain in contact and continue this conversation later, for I refuse to believe this matter to be closed. I do not like what you are suggesting, but I am not about to discount it out of hand. This requires a great deal of thought and reflection, and I am not about to act rashly and do something that the world may later regret.”

The Blade inclined her head in respect towards Lucia. “Spoken like a true Knight-Commander, or at least what I imagine one to be. Such terms are more than agreeable. If there is nothing else, I believe we have a lot of people to prepare for a long journey. Anyone who is coming should dress for the cold, and if you have any blankets, clothing, potions, or other supplies to spare, there are many across Thedas who are in dire need of such things to survive. I don’t wish to drain your stores dry, but Montsimmard is well-equipped to resupply this tower. Many smaller villages and towns are not so fortunate.”

“I don’t see why that will be a problem,” Lucia said, her voice far lighter now that they had moved on to a less contentious topic. “Senior Enchanters, please see to your wards and make sure they are prepared for the mountain cold. And Francine? That is, Senior Enchanter Francine? As I understand it, the Inquisition is quite a bit more casual than this Circle, so if Ser Francis doesn’t object, then I see no reason why you can’t be reunited with your brother in truth rather than as a ward and her guard.”

Francine smiled broadly. “I think we can dispense with the titles. Well, my own, at least. As for you, Knight-Commander, I truly believe you’ll do right by your own charges. Maker watch over you, Lucia. Indeed, Maker watch over all of us in these troubling times.”

With that, the negotiations died down, and Cassandra said a silent prayer of her own. Maker, your children are in dire peril and in need of guidance. I want to believe that the woman taking the lead is doing your good work, but I know all too well how much I do not know. Andraste, help this stubborn woman to see a better path forward. For the sake of your children, Maker, please guide your Blade down a path of wisdom and mercy.

And Maker, please grant me the wisdom to recognize the truth – and the reality of the world - when I see it, however awful it may appear to be.

Chapter Text

It had taken the better part of a month from when the Blade of the Maker had left for Val Royeaux until her return to Haven, and barely two days after said return, she had departed once more for the Hinterlands.  Varric, Solas, and an elf named Sera had gone with her, and yet another full week had passed since that most recent departure. Thoughts of Sera inevitably led Leliana to think about the Friends of Red Jenny, and how they had always seemed to be little more than a joke to her. As both a bard and as the Left Hand to Divine Justinia V, the antics of the Friends had always seemed more of a minor nuisance, or else something to laugh at when they got the drop on an unsuspecting noble, who was of course to blame for allowing themselves to be caught off guard.

The Blade’s insight into Sera – and by extension, the loose and informal network that was the Friends– painted a very different picture. More than that, the Blade’s reasons for accepting Sera into the Inquisition had forced the Nightingale to look at her own past views – some of them very recent – and reevaluate them. As a spymaster, Leliana had forced herself to keep the world at arm’s length. Attachments were vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Yet it was these attachments that kept the ordinary people of the world from falling to pieces in times of darkness and chaos.

Cassandra was a Seeker and the Right Hand of the Divine. Varric was an influential merchant and author. Solas was keenly intelligent and an unknown danger. Leliana herself had spent the better part of the last decade moving in the upper echelons of society, as had Josephine. Cullen’s experiences were limited to those of a Templar. Aloisia Kallig herself had been in a position of leadership and command for many years.

Sera had none of the privilege that anyone else with any real influence in the Inquisition could lay a claim to, and Aloisia had made to clear to Leliana that while Sera was mischievous – and that was an overly generous term – she was to be given respect and attention and a voice within the Inquisition. As far as the Blade of the Maker was concerned, the ‘little people’ that Sera represented were the prime reason that the Inquisition even existed at all, and those at the top truly needed a firm link to the common man and woman to keep themselves from turning into a source of tyranny.

Ironically, Cassandra had come to Leliana in confidence about her fears that the Blade might actually become one such tyrant. The exchange of words at the Circle at Montsimmard had sounded to Cassandra more like an ultimatum than a peace offering. The seeker had made it clear that it wasn’t the contents of the Blade’s speech that had set her on edge, but rather the way in which she had approached the matter. The Blade had defined her personal worldview as ‘reality,’ and Cassandra had seemed afraid that if such heavy-handed tactics became the norm, then the Inquisition might become something horrible. The matter had shaken Cassandra enough that she chose to aid the Inquisition from Haven while the Blade went to the Hinterlands, deliberately putting some distance between the two of them.

Leliana remembered the conversation that she’d had in private with the Blade about Cassandra’s concerns, and Aloisia had been not only brutally honest, but downright scathing with her answers. Leliana had secretly recorded the conversation on the device that the Blade had entrusted to her.  She planned to use it as insurance should the need arise, just as she would with every other private conversation that she had similarly recorded.

Closing the flaps of her tent, Leliana checked to make sure that the runes of silence woven into the the fabric of the tend were undisturbed, and then she played back the conversation to get a second perspective now that she could listen outside of the heat of the moment.

“Cassandra may be right about my forcefulness, Sister Leliana, and I'll tell you now that I do not intend to stop my efforts once the Breach has been sealed, nor once I've dealt with those who created it. I can’t leave this world to limp to its death as it is. If this is where I’m to spend the rest of my life, then I owe it to everyone to at least make it a place worth living in.”

“Lady Blade…”

“Aloisia, Sister Leliana. I don’t need to hear my title in private. I’m coming to you in confidence, and I trust you to remain professional with others.”

“Fine. Then drop the ‘Sister’ from my name as well. And I have to ask, just what sorts of changes are you planning to make? Your so-called reality involves Templars simply dying out, leaving the future of mages entirely uncertain. Mages do deserve to be free, but the dangers are still there.”

“Ugh! Listen, Sist… Leliana, you have no idea how hard it is for me to be here, in this world, with the power to make a difference but meeting resistance at every turn. You come from Orlais, yes? The beacon of high civilization in Thedas. What’s the most backwater, dirty group of people you could imagine being forced to make a living in? Seheron? An Avvar encampment? Maybe living in the wilds with the Chasind? All of Thedas is such a rotten pit of filth to me, and I’m trying my damned best to lift it out of the mire into a place where people can actually live and work and die in dignity.”

“We are truly that horrible to you? And you think that you alone know what is best for all of us, is that it?”

“Force, no! I’m a literal alien here, Leliana! I know only what I’ve been able to pick up in little over half a year. Where I come from, the Force is a gift to be celebrated. There is no such thing as the Fade, and that in itself is a mystery that I am eager to solve. Once upon a time, it would have been my calling to study such things. But it isn’t just that mages are forced to suffer, it is that the fear of magic is a self-fulfilling prophecy. I spent my time in Redcliffe learning as much as I could about Thedas, and about magic in particular. And the mages I have met genuinely do fear possession, but that’s a product of centuries of Chantry conditioning. I’ve reached my own conclusions on the matter.”

“Oh, have you now? And what do your alien eyes tell you, Aloisia?”

“Don’t mock me, Leliana! Believe it or not, I am trying to help this world. The answer lies in the stories I found about actual possession compared to the irrational fears of it.  Taking every story I could find into account, I could find approximately three kinds of people that fall prey to possession, and that count varies depending on how specific or vague you are with your definitions. The first category comprises those who willingly embrace a spirit – or more likely a demon – for the promise of power. But it is not their magic that makes them dangerous, but rather their ambition and their willingness to go to extremes. Loghain Mac Tir was no mage, but his fears and his ambitions nearly destroyed Ferelden. And Knight-Commander Meredith of Kirkwall terrorized her city for a decade, if not longer.  Again, not a mage.

“The second group are those who are simply unprepared to deal with beings of the Fade. If a mage is not properly educated, and if they are not taught to handle their emotions with care, then they will be more susceptible to possession. Basic education and counseling could prevent the vast majority of such cases. Otherwise, young mages – taught from an early age to fear their gifts rather than how to control them – might falter, or might accidentally let their magic slip out. In a proper academy, with proper guidance, these things could be prevented. Even something as simple as parents knowing what to look for and leaning in to help and to love their children rather than recoiling in fear would go a long way.

“Finally, there are the desperate souls who see no other alternative. The ones who face stoning by fearful villagers, the ones who fear being dragged off to be imprisoned in a Circle, or those who abide by a Circle’s rules but face abusive Templars. These poor people are driven to the edge by the society that the Chantry created, and so they are driven to an absolute last resort in the vain hope that it will save them.

“If your society were better educated about magic, if people were not told that it is something to always fear, then there would not be anything to fear. At the risk of blaspheming, look to the Tevinter Imperium. It is hardly a model of moral authority, let me be clear. And yet, they have a history longer than any other nation in Thedas, and one built on large part by magic. I can only imagine that the study of magic in the Imperium is encouraged, albeit most likely to unhealthy extremes. That being said, if magic were truly as dangerous as the Chantry professes, would not the Imperium have fallen long ago due to the ‘inevitable’ dangers of magic? No, the greatest threat to Tevinter today is the Qunari, and magic is their greatest defense. I’m not defending either side, but if Tevinter feared magic as much as the rest of Thedas, it would have fallen to the Qunari long ago.

“And besides magic, the Chantry has the gall to suggest that a deity who created the world and everything in it would pick and choose favorites with his creations. Spirits and mortals may be inherently different, to be sure, but what of elves, dwarves, and whatever species make up the bulk of the Qunari? From what little I have been able to learn, all four species can produce children together, and those offspring can have children themselves. I have been to many different worlds and seen many different species, and the ability to produce fertile offspring between two races is so rare that such a discovery would be broadcast far and wide as a new horizon for society. And if the Maker truly does favor humans alone, then he must not like me very much, for own ancestors are a mixture of humans and the pureblooded Sith species.  That they were able to breed at all is something of a minor miracle.

“Quite simply, Leliana, the Chantry is not what it claims to be. It is not a refuge for the needy, nor a voice of reason, nor does it act in the best interests of all people. It should be those things, but too often it falls short of its ideals, and the good it does is not enough to be reliable for everyone on a regular basis.  No, the Chantry is a source of inequality, suffering, and outright oppression, and it has been for centuries. It has stood as it is for too long, and all of Thedas has been held back and stifled because of it. The mage rebellion was an inevitable response to the Chantry’s abuses, and while the elven uprising in Halamshiral may be an Orlesian matter, an elf would not have been killed for throwing a rock at a carriage had the Chantry not sanctioned such discrimination across centuries, and there would have been no uprising to answer that injustice.  What is truly sickening me is that the Empress of such a ‘civilized’ nation allowed such abuses against her subjects for so long, and when the oppressed are left with no recourse but to issue a call to arms, they are not met with an attempt to understand why they acted the way they did.  There were no negotiations, no redressing of grievances, nothing at all but mass murder by a head of state against her own people.

“All of those reasons - and likely a good deal more – are why I find Thedas to be, quite frankly, a revolting backwater that must be reformed into something at least somewhat tolerable to all of its people, Leliana. Too many have lived in fear and oppression for too long, and I will change this world for the better to fix that. If the Inquisition is truly the force for good that you claim it is, then it will help me. If not, then perhaps I will take the mark you need to seal the Breach and I will leave the Inquisition to find my own path, and this world will be left to a fate that it arguably deserves.

“I was too late to save my homeland from its worst excesses and evils. But I will save this world that I have been stranded on. So tell me, Leliana… Will you help me to save the world, or will you stand in my way?”

Switching off the recording, Leliana now examined the Blade’s tirade through a set of eyes not trapped in the heat of the moment. In the middle of that deluge of anger at the time, Leliana had been taken aback by the fervor in the Blade’s voice. Intellectually, Leliana knew that Aloisia Kallig was a learned woman who used reason to guide her actions.  In that moment, however, all that she could hear was the voice of a zealot, speaking with the kind of passion that inflamed mobs to riot.

Of course, this had been a private conversation, and not an incitement of any kind. Listening to the Blade’s words, and taking the time to analyze them critically, Leliana began to understand Cassandra’s fears better. It would be so much easier to dismiss the Blade’s fervor if she was spouting insanity. Despite the tone of her ravings, the words themselves had the utterly painful bite of truth to them.

Leliana scoured her memory to find any instances of demonic possession or accidental magic that didn’t fall into one of the three simple categories that the Blade had defined. She could find none. The notion that Tevinter might have always had a better way to prevent possession was not one that sat easily with her, not at all. And yet, Leliana could not recall any of her few contacts in the Imperium ever reporting anything that contradicted the Blade’s arguments on that score, either.

More than just magic was the treatment of non-humans by the Chantry. Leliana had never, personally, felt right about the notion that humans alone were closest to the Maker.  And now His Blade had told her in stark terms that her own ancestors were a mix of humans and another, alien species.  The Sith moniker indicated that this other species may have been the founders of the Empire from which she hailed, but that was not an issue that Leliana was overly concerned with. The very notion of the Maker's chosen being descended from non-humans from beyond the stars...

Leliana didn’t need any sort of recording to remember how Aloisia Kallig had described just a few of the different kinds of life waiting out in the night sky. People with skin colored red, blue, green, yellow, or a mixture of any of these. People who didn’t have hair, but rather fleshy horns or tendrils of some kind that were just as much an organ as a heart or a lung. Giant, gluttonous slugs who had once upon a time commanded an empire to rival those that supposedly ruled the stars today. And the Blade of the Maker supposedly traced her lineage to one such species just as much as she was a human being.

Aloisia Kallig’s words that day were not something that Leliana could forget. “You see humans, elves, and dwarves as separate. I see one species, separated somehow by the Force, if only superficially. You are all the same, and you fight as if you are so very different. Just be thankful that it was a human who ended up crashing here and becoming the Blade of the Maker. Had I been any other civilized being, you would have thought me a demon and killed me simply because I looked different to your eyes, never mind what your other senses might tell you should you take the time to listen and learn. Thedas has a dangerous lack of imagination.”

As much as she wished otherwise, Leliana could not say the Blade was wrong. Had she shown up with blue skin and head-tendrils instead of hair, nobody would have even thought twice about killing her. And yet, Aloisia Kallig viewed such people as more civilized than anyone living in Thedas. It was no wonder that she was horrified by the persecution of elves and the exclusion of dwarves, even if the latter was mutual. To one who saw blue skin on a person as normal, she probably thought that humans, elves, and dwarves looked exactly the same.

“Andraste preserve me!” Leliana exclaimed. What a fool she was. Of course, the Blade saw no difference between humans, elves, and dwarves, given what she had divulged. All she saw were people. Species didn’t even matter to her, and the notion that it mattered to the Maker was abhorrent to her. Leliana had never liked that part of the Chant, but it had been that way ever since…

It had been that way since the Chant was first codified. Maker forfend, but the Blade was absolutely right. The injustices against mages, elves, dwarves… Aloisia even saw the Templars as victims, and coming to know Cullen, Leliana couldn’t disagree. The world had needed change for a long time, but nothing had ever really changed because no one had thought to change it, let alone to even think of how to do so. It was just as the Blade had said: Thedas suffered from a collective lack of imagination, and it had proven to be truly dangerous.

She is entirely right. Not about one thing or another, but about everything. Maker, forgive me! Forgive us all! Your children have failed you, and I have been complicit in fomenting these failures. But now I see things clearly. You have sent your Blade to open our eyes to our follies, and to help us to make a better world for all of Your children. I will help her however I can. Maker, guide me down the path of change that hurts the least. Maker, I am forever your servant, and I am ready to follow your Blade in whichever direction you draw her.

Maker, please forgive your children who have gone astray. I will see them down a better path, no matter what it takes.

As Redcliffe grew ever closer, Aloisia thought back to the past few days spent in the Fereldan Hinterlands, and with the events surrounding the newest addition to her party of warriors: a man named Blackwall, of the Grey Wardens. Aloisia had first come to know of the darkspawn-hunters during her stay in Redcliffe, where she had learned about how Solana Amell – the Hero of Ferelden as she was known today – had saved the settlement from a siege of possessed corpses under the sway of the then-Arl’s son, who had been possessed by a demon.

Connor Guerrin himself had been all too eager to share with Aloisia the dangers of magic, and of demons in particular. He tended to keep to himself, and Aloisia could understand why. It was clear that despite his youth and ignorance at the time, a great many people still held him responsible, foremost among them Connor himself.

All the same, Aloisia had come to learn of the Fifth Blight from the firsthand accounts of many survivors, almost all of whom praised the Grey Wardens as exceptional heroes, alone in their ability to truly end a Blight, and especially Solana Amell. There had been five Blights in Thedosian history so far, with five archdemons having risen to lead the darkspawn horde. Of all those who had dealt the killing blow to an archdemon, only Solana Amell had lived to tell the tale, and it was that which made her more than just a hero, but legend brought to life.

And so it was that Warden Blackwall struck Aloisia as a tremendous disappointment. He was a good man, to be sure, and a capable fighter. That being said, however, Aloisia had serious doubts as to whether or not he was actually a Grey Warden at all. She had sought him out for answers after the mages from Montsimmard spoke of the Grey Wardens in Orlais vanishing from their headquarters, also in Montsimmard. And then Leliana had confirmed that the Fereldan Grey Wardens had similarly vanished without a trace.

King Alistair was still accounted for, but apart from the Fereldan monarch, only Blackwall could be found, and his status as a Warden was dubious at best. Leliana had briefed Aloisia on how to recognize a Warden, from their armor to their abilities to – most disturbingly – the source of said abilities. Apparently, Grey Wardens were able to fight the darkspawn by subjecting themselves to the Blight within their own bodies.

Maybe the ritual magic used to create a Grey Warden rendered the taint undetectable in the Force. That would not explain why Blackwall had only the chest plate of a Grey Warden over far simpler armor. Nor did it explain why he was not fighting darkspawn at all when Aloisia had first met him. Teaching innocent farmers to defend themselves was a noble thing to do, but it was not what a Grey Warden would do. More than that, Blackwall had referred to the Grey Wardens as ‘they’ in one sentence, and then as ‘we’ in the next.

After clearing bandits out of an old villa south of Dennet’s farms, Aloisia had directed workers to begin creating a proper base of operations for the region. There had been a good few siege weapons – trebuchets, they were called – that would be broken down and transported to Haven. The town was incredibly vulnerable to attack, and they’d need at least some ability to defend themselves.

The dead bandits had been in touch with Carta dwarves – a kind of criminal organization – who had been smuggling lyrium out of a thaig called Valammar not far away from Blackwall’s encampment. Blackwall had not been of much help when asked about possible darkspawn numbers, hesitating before simply saying that it would be ‘hard to tell’ how many there would be.

Only after dealing with the Carta and with a few darkspawn stragglers did Aloisia and her companions find notes indicating that it was red lyrium that was being smuggled out of Valammar. Varric was angrier than Aloisia had ever seen him, Sera didn’t seem to fully grasp the gravity of the situation, Solas was indignant about the gall of people toying with things they didn’t understand, and Blackwall had yet to hear of anything about red lyrium. Cassandra had stayed behind at Haven due to concerns about Aloisia’s behavior. Leliana had brought those concerns to her, and they’d had words before she departed.

Now, finally, they were almost at the gates of Redcliffe. Aloisia was thankful to be on a familiar road once again, and would be even more grateful when they finally arrived. “Varric,” she said, hoping to get an answer to one of her many questions, “from what I understand, dwarves either operate entirely in Orzammar or else entirely on the surface, but the Carta seems to extend into both domains. Do you have any insights that might clear things up? For instance, how does lyrium smuggling typically work, apart from the red variety?”

“Shit, Red, I don’t stick my nose that deep where it doesn’t belong. I’m still alive, aren’t I?” he replied. “But the Carta does operate in a grey area. Dwarven tradition says they should all be exiled to the surface, but Orzammar profits a lot from lyrium smuggling, even if it’s through illegal back channels. The Carta is a necessary evil, at least from what I understand. Although, Bhelen has been tearing up so many old traditions since he became king… Who’s to say that dwarves won’t be able to come and go from the surface sometime soon?”

“Interesting,” was all that Aloisia said. She very much wanted to ask about the connection between red lyrium and the Blight, because she knew very well what she could sense in the Force. All the same, she was hesitant to broach this even with Leliana. It was irrational of her, she knew. A Sith had to trust her instincts, but a large part of her worried that her instincts wouldn’t be enough to sway anyone else on this planet. Better to wait until she had something more solid to go off of. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

After thinking about Varric, red lyrium, darkspawn, and everything that linked all of them together, a thought occurred to Aloisia. “Varric… From what I’ve heard, joining the Grey Wardens is not something you can undo. And if I recall your tales of Kirkwall correctly, Anders was a Grey Warden, was he not? What was he doing in Kirkwall in the first place?”

“Ah. Kirkwall was Blondie’s attempt to escape the Wardens,” Varric said. “It wasn’t until that business with Corypheus that he finally accepted that there is no leaving the Wardens. At least, that’s what it seemed like.”

“And who or what is Corypheus?” Aloisia asked.

“Hoo, boy. Long story short? You know that story in the Chantry about how the darkspawn came to be? The magisters who blackened the Golden City? Well, Corypheus was one of them, or at least he said that he was. The Wardens had locked him away because, for whatever reason, they couldn’t kill him. Even when he was locked away – and not just locked, but magically asleep or some shit – he was able to make Grey Wardens do everything they could to free him. Hawke, Junior, Blondie and I got stuck in the prison with him, and the only way out was to kill Corypheus. And we did manage to kill him, but Anders… Corypheus got in his head, and we had to literally beat some sense into him. Maybe it would’ve been better if we’d been forced to kill him then and there. Anyways, whatever made him a Warden allowed Corypheus to control him. Made him realize that you can’t quit the Wardens, not ever.”

“You don’t say?” Aloisia said casually, but her mind was already spinning. “It’s been a while since I read that particular verse. How many magisters were there that supposedly broke into the Golden City? Apart from that… Blackwall, have you heard of anything resembling a darkspawn magister besides what Varric just told us?”

“Maker, no!” Blackwall said. “Quite frankly, I’m not sure I believe this story of a darkspwan magister myself. But it does sounds like something the Wardens would want to keep secret if it were true. Wouldn’t want to admit there was a darkspawn they couldn’t actually kill.”

There it was again. Not ‘we,’ but ‘they.’ So long as Blackwall remained a good man and a good soldier, she’d indulge his fantasy. She would, however, have Leliana task her agents with keeping an eye on the man.

“Now that you mention it,” Varric said, “Blondie talked about his time with the Hero of Ferelden. Said that they came upon something sort of like Corypheus. Didn’t say much more than that, and I didn’t ask. No offense, but stories that make for real nightmares aren’t something I like to dwell on.”

“There were probably seven of those Tevinter bastards, right?” Sera said. “I mean, seven old gods, so seven magisters. Makes sense, right? Not that I buy that any of this shite is real, mind you. You’ve all sorts of crackpot stories. Far as I’m concerned, that’s all this is: just another story.”

“All right, all right,” Aloisia said calmly, hoping to placate everyone. “We can drop the matter. And you look like you have something you want to say, Solas?”

“Yes, actually,” the elf said, though he hesitated ever so slightly before he spoke. “I believe we may have passed by a relic of my people that may be able to help strengthen the veil. Alone, it might not do much, but I have seen several such things scattered all over Thedas in the Fade. If we seek them out, then we could strengthen the Veil and prevent spirits from being dragged through the rifts.”

A gut feeling - perhaps the Force speaking to her on some level - told her that Solas's mind was only distantly on the relic he just spoke of. Wherever his mind truly was, Aloisia could not say. She certainly didn’t know if she could trust Solas, but if there was any possibility at all of strengthening the Veil, then such an opportunity had to be investigated. “Mark it on the map, and we’ll look into it after we speak with Grand Enchanter Fiona.”

“That should be sooner rather than later, unless my eyes deceive me," Solas said. "We appear to be approaching the gates of Redcliffe. And… Yes, there is also a rift. But something about it is…”

“Off. Different, yes.” Aloisia didn’t know how Solas could tell, but the rift ahead screamed of wrongness in the Force. “Time to dismount, everyone. We kill the demons, I close the rift, then we finally get to visit something resembling proper civilization. All due respect to Orlais, but I absolutely loathe Orlais.”

“Ha! Knew I liked you, Your Bladeyship,” Sera said joyfully. “Right, then. Time for arrows.”

Aloisia was able to create a shield of lightning around herself before the demons fell upon her, and with a snap-hiss, her lightsaber was out and cutting through her foes. All was going well until a step to the side brought Aloisia’s movement to a crawl. Her thoughts were as fast as ever, but her body was sluggish to respond. It was as if the air around her had suddenly become thick and condensed. It wasn’t just her body, but the wind itself, and even the flaring of her lightsaber seemed to have slowed. No, this wasn’t the air becoming thick or dense at all. This was something different.

Finally, the phenomenon passed her by. Aloisia tore into the demons with renewed fervor before sealing the rift with a well-practiced gesture, if with more satisfaction than before. “All right, that wasn’t just me, right? Solas, you’re the expert on magic here. Can you explain what just happened with that rift?”

“I’m not sure. Some sort of temporal disturbance, I believe, but as to the cause? I have no idea. Quite intriguing,” Solas said.

“Can you at least try to pretend not to like the weird magic that craps out demons?” Sera asked in vain.

“Agreed,” Blackwall said. “Times are strange enough already. We don’t need time itself making them any stranger.”

“Table it for now, people,” Aloisia said before cupping her mouth with her hands. “The rift is sealed! We’re with the Inquisition! Please open the gate!”

Prayers to the Maker could be heard from the other side as the gates were opened. To Aloisia’s surprise, she saw no armor with any Fereldan coat of arms. There was nobody distinctly from Redcliffe or any other arling to be seen. There were just a few Inquisition scouts, a few scattered Chantry clerics, and a lot of mages. One of the scouts finally approached.

“Lady Blade,” he said politely. “We sent word ahead, but you should know that nobody seems to have been expecting anyone from the Inquisition.”

“Nobody?” Aloisia repeated. “Not even Grand Enchanter Fiona? Or is she not here at Redcliffe?”

“No, she’s here,” the scout said. “But if she was aware of your arrival, she hasn’t mentioned it to anyone. All the same, we’ve arranged for negotiations to be held at the tavern. The Gull and Lantern, it’s called.”

“Thank you, Scout…?”

“Oh. Um, Scout Fordham, Your Worship.”

“Thank you, Scout Fordham, and well done. Continue your duties and be ready to send a message to Haven. I suspect I’ll have news to report very soon.”

“As you say, Your Worship,” Scout Fordham said before moving back into the town proper.

Aloisia shook her head. “'Your worship.' I don’t know if I want to get used to that.”

“Better not,” Sera said. “You let it go to your head, you start looking down on people, you end up with a Jenny stirring up shite for you. More importantly, the world gets more messed up instead of getting better. So, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

A young elven man – or at least he looked to be young – wearing brown robes with smatterings of light armor approached them from within the town. “Agents of the Inquisition, my apologies,” he said. “Magister Alexius is in charge now, but hasn’t yet arrived. He is expected shortly, however. You can speak with the former grand enchanter in the meantime.” With that said, he left to do whatever else it was he had to do.

Aloisia sensed no deception or ill will from the elf, but his words changed everything. “Magister Alexius is in charge, is he?” She turned to face her comrades. “Please correct me if I am mistaken, but isn’t ‘magister’ a title reserved solely for the upper echelons of the Tevinter Imperium? A nation that is about as far from Redcliffe as you can get while still remaining in Thedas?”

“Parts of the Anderfels are further away, but otherwise, you are correct,” Solas said. “A magister in charge here at Redcliffe does not bode well at all for our cause. Did you see any signs of Tevinter agents during your own time here, Aloisia?”

“No, I did not,” she answered, taking care not to admit that she would barely know what to look for. “In my defense, I didn’t think I had reason to search. That being said, stay on your guard. Things have obviously changed a great deal since I was last here. Come on, now. Stick close together. I’d like to make a quick stop before we head to the tavern.”

Setting a quick pace, Aloisia strode with purpose through the town and down towards the docks. The area was quiet and saw little foot traffic, making it an ideal spot for someone who wanted to be left alone. Sure enough, as they drew closer, Aloisia could make out Connor Guerrin in his usual hangout.

She did not cry out, but approached calmly and openly, giving the poor young man time enough to see and accept that a small group of people was coming his way. For his part, Connor looked quite anguished, but the faintest hint of a smile graced his lips. “Aloisia? You survived! I admit, I didn’t believe the stories, but you’re alive. And leading the Inquisition, if I hear correctly?”

“You do, indeed, hear correctly, Connor,” Aloisia said with a smile. “I know you prefer your isolation, but you know Redcliffe, its history, and its people far better than most here. I’m here on behalf of the Inquisition, but I was met by someone at the gates who told me that a 'Magister Alexius' is now in charge. How did this happen, and when? Please, tell me all you know.”

“Before I say anything,” Connor said as his face took on a harder look, “what are your intentions here now that you’re the Blade of the Maker?”

“My intentions,” Aloisia said, treading lightly around the poor boy who had already suffered so much, “are to gain enough mages to aid in closing the Breach. We’re operating under the theory that I interrupted whatever magic created the Breach, and in the process I gained this mark on my hand that is able to close the rifts. Whatever the source, I have been able to close a good many rifts, and the hope is that with enough power – carefully guided and directed, of course – that we may be able to close the Breach and stop any more rifts from forming, and in the process stopping any more demons from crossing over. I had intended to appeal to Fiona, but I am told she is no longer in charge?”

Connor let out a long sigh. “I won’t pretend that I like you coming here to try and use so much magic, but if even half of what I’ve heard of the Breach is true, then I’d be a fool to stand in your way. As for the Tevinters… Looking back, some of the refugees - mages, that is - who came here were talking about the kinds of things you'd expect to hear from Tevinter, but that could just have been freedom going to their heads. I don't recall anyone with a Tevinter accent or garb. About the time news of the explosion at the Conclave arrived, those voices surged from a few whispers into a frantic chorus.

“And the moment those voices erupted, there was the magister all of a sudden, all too ready to offer his aid to the ‘inevitable’ templar assault. Surely, we would be blamed for the crisis, he told us all. If too much freedom wasn't temptation enough, fear of the templars got a lot of people thinking about unsavory alternatives. I don't think the grand enchanter wanted to accede to his wishes, but if she didn't, then too many would have done so on their own. Looking back, I don't think the magister would have negotiated with anyone else besides Fiona, even if others did want to negotiate their own terms. So now, we've all been indentured into Magister Alexius’s service. We've got ten years of servitude ahead of us to become citizens of the Imperium, and I don’t want to think of what we’ll all look like – what we’ll be like – by the time that servitude is over with.”

“Call it what it is,” Aloisia almost spat. “It’s slavery. Someone spent a great deal of time and effort to enslave the mages here, and I’m utterly ashamed that I didn’t spot it. Regardless, I have the Inquisition backing me now, and I’ll do whatever I can to free you. Circumstances may require that I negotiate with Magister Alexius, but I will be on my guard, and I will be looking after the interests of all the mages here, I promise you. Before I leave, however, where is your uncle? Surely, he wouldn’t let this happen without objection, would he?”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Connor agreed. “But Alexius was smart enough to sign us all into servitude before Uncle Teagan even realized what was going on. By then, there were enough Tevinters here – plus too many of our own people who sympathize with them – that they were able to force him to abandon Redcliffe entirely. Oh, it was all smiles, but the kind with daggers hidden behind them. If I know Uncle Teagan, he’ll be on his way straight to Denerim to petition the king and queen for aid.”

“I hear you, Connor. And I'm terribly sorry, but I'm afraid I need to take my leave for now. If there is anyone who wants to escape this madness, if they can get out of Redcliffe, send them to the Crossroads or else to the villa out west. The one built by Arl Jacen, if I’m not mistaken. The Inquisition has bases of operations in both areas, and they’ll see to your needs as well as pass along any intelligence they may have.”

Connor nodded. “That’s good. Some mages may try to escape, but most will probably be too afraid. The Tranquil, however… The Magister wants them gone. I’ll make sure that when they leave, they head in the right direction. I know how much you despise Tranquility, but better they end up helping a good cause rather than be executed because of what was done to them.”

It was a no-win situation with the Tranquil, but Connor was right. “As you say. Good hunting, Connor. And stay safe.”

As they left Connor to his thoughts, Aloisia turned to her comrades. “You were all awfully quiet back there.”

Sera shrugged. “He knew you, right? He listened to you. All of us would just be noise.”

Aloisia nodded in understanding. “Thank you. All the same, sometimes an extra voice wouldn’t go amiss. Sometimes, I need to be the Blade of the Maker. Other times, I can just be Aloisia Kallig. During the latter, feel free to offer up your two cred- Your two coppers.”

“What was that about Red?” Varric asked. “Stress getting to you? Sounded like you were about to say something else.”

“It must be stress,” Aloisia agreed. “I was about to fall on a phrase from my time as a slave. Some things are hard to forget, however much I might want to.” Aloisia hoped that Varric would just accept that and leave it be. She did not want to explain how hard it was to think in terms of copper, silver, and gold coins as opposed to simple credits, be they Imperial or Republic currency.

“Duly noted, all the same,” Blackwall said. “When you’re the Blade, we keep quiet. When you’re just you, I’ll feel free to lend my opinion.”

“Thank you,” Aloisia said. “Now, the Gull and Lantern is just over here, if I recall correctly. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible. And maybe we can get some answers from Fiona as to why she invited me here when she shouldn’t have had the authority to do so.”

As they entered the tavern, a messenger quickly escorted Aloisia and her party into a back room. Thinking back to Lord Seeker Lucius, Aloisia wondered if something similar could be at play regarding Fiona. Could someone or something had been impersonating her back at Val Royeaux? Or perhaps here and now?

Regardless, Fiona now stood before them in simple blue mage’s robes with gold adorning her shoulders. “Welcome, agents of the Inquisition,” she said before turning to Aloisia. “So, it’s true. One of our own is being heralded as the Blade of the Maker. While I am certainly relieved to see that you survived, I cannot help but wonder what has brought you to Redcliffe.”

Fiona didn’t feel like an impostor of any sort, nor did Aloisia sense any deception. Something did feel off, but whatever it was, it was hard to pin down. Aloisia decided against pointing out that during her time in Redcliffe, she'd been posing as a mercenary and hadn't quite been 'one of their own.' For now, she'd take whatever connection Fiona was willing to offer. “We’re here because of your invitation back in Val Royeaux. Just after I appealed to the Chantry, just after Lord Seeker Lucius went on a rant and abandoned his duties, you were there waiting for me, and you invited me to come here to negotiate with you.”

“You are certain of this?” Fiona said. “I do not see how that could be. I have not been to Val Royeaux since before the Conclave, and I recall no such incidents as the ones you describe.”

“It was definitely you,” Aloisia said. “You were there. Think carefully. Are you sure there isn’t something slightly wrong? Something just a little bit off?”

“I’m not sure,” Fiona confessed. “Though now that you mention it, I do feel somewhat strange.” She shook her head and looked up in regret. “Regardless of what brought you here, the situation has changed.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aloisia said as she crossed her arms. “A Tevinter magister taking your charges from you? I confess, I don’t know you very well, Grand Enchanter, but this is not something I would have expected of you.”

“We were desperate,” Fiona said sadly. “The Conclave destroyed, Justinia dead, we were all so certain that the Templars would be upon us in force. If I had not done as my people demanded, I would have been removed, and someone else would have made the choice and held less power to negotiate.”

As if on cue, a door opened and admitted a few men, one of whom stood out from his fellows. He was older than the rest, his robes and armor more elaborate. The design was unlike anything Aloisia had yet seen, but now she had a style she could associate with the Tevinter Imperium.

“Welcome, my friends,” the older man said, his accent not dissimilar to what had once been common to hear among the upper class of Ziost. “I apologize for not greeting you earlier.” He wore a humble smile, but Aloisia sensed the dagger behind it, just as Connor had described.

“Agents of the Inquisition,” Fiona said formally, “allow me to introduce Magister Gereon Alexius.”

“The southern mages are under my command,” the magister said, as if to draw a battle line. “And you are the survivor, yes? The one from the Fade? Interesting.”

The cold menace put into that last word alone was noteworthy enough without the chill that Aloisia suddenly felt in the Force. Both sides were obviously distrustful of one another, but there was still a dance of words to be had. Distasteful formalities were sometimes necessary, however much Aloisia hated them.

“I’ve seen no sign of Redcliffe’s Arl or his men,” she said, inviting Alexius to give his own explanation.

“The Arl of Redcliffe left the village,” Alexius answered, his voice carefully neutral.

“An Arl voluntarily vacated his office? His home?” Aloisia prodded.

Alexius was ready with a half-answer. “There were tensions brewing. I did not want an incident.”

That would have to do for now. “I was hoping you could clear something up for me, Magister Alexius. Just when did this alliance come to pass? Tevinter is not so near to Ferelden, after all, and I recall no indications of new allies when I was last here in Redcliffe. I was hoping you could explain the timing of all of this.”

“Quite simply, I had intended to attend the Conclave as an ambassador of the Imperium, but the southern Chantry had objections, so I thought to attend to the plight of my brethren here in Redcliffe. When the Conclave was destroyed, these poor souls faced the brutality of the Templars, who rushed to attack them. It could only be through divine providence that I arrived when I did.”

'Providence.' You were exactly what the mages needed, when they needed you. If only you were here, Cassandra, then maybe your faith would face a test it seems to desperately need, Aloisia thought.

“It was certainly… Very timely,” Fiona said with a grimace, her emphasis on the last word unmistakably bitter.

“Indeed, it does seem like a stroke of good fortune,” Aloisia said with a trace of mockery. “You were in just the right spot to save these poor people from the onslaught of the Templars, and with a proper Tevinter education, they'll soon provide you with a bolstered front against the Qunari. Or am I mistaken?”

“For the moment, the southern mages are a considerable expense,” Alexius admitted. “But you are not wrong, Lady Kallig. When they are properly trained, they will join our legion.”

“You said not all of my people would be military!” Fiona protested. “There are children! Those not suited-“

“And I’m sure, one day, they will all be constructive citizens of the Imperium,” Alexius said as he turned his head to counter her. “When their debts are paid.”

“And how long does it take for such a debt to be paid?” Aloisia asked. “Is it still ten years? Or have things changed since I was last up north? And on that note, I hope there will be no need for any unnecessary altercations regarding my personal past?”

“Service of ten years is required before citizenship can be granted,” Alexius confirmed. “As to your personal situation, Lady Kallig, I can only assume your previous benefactor was thoughtless and negligent. Certainly, your lot in life has improved greatly, and I can hardly begrudge you your good fortunes.”

Aloisia wasn’t sure if Gereon Alexius even believed she was a former Tevinter slave, but she’d play the game, regardless. “I’m so pleased to hear that. Now, if you aren’t already aware, I’ve come looking for mages to aid in closing the Breach.”

“To business, then,” Alexius agreed as he gestured towards a small booth for them to both sit down. Once they had both taken their seats across from each other, the magister asked another man in similar garb, “Felix, would you send for a scribe, please?”

A young man in yellow robes with similar designs approached the table and bowed politely to Aloisia and her party.

“Pardon my manners,” the magister said. “My son, Felix, friends.”

Two thoughts registered in Aloisia’s mind. The first was that the designs on the robes might not necessarily be Tevinter, but could possibly be a familial trait. The second was a familiar, corrupt feeling lurking within Felix. Whether or not the boy was as dangerous as his father, he had the Blight in his blood. He probably wasn’t a Grey Warden, so most likely he was a victim of a darkspawn attack. They were supposed to be rare outside of a Blight, but not so rare as to ever truly let one’s guard down.

As Felix left to fetch a scribe, Aloisia and the senior Alexius returned their attentions to each other. “I’m not surprised you’re here,” the magister said. “Containing the Breach is not a feat that many could even attempt. There is no telling how many mages would be needed for such an endeavor. Ambitious, indeed.”

If there was ever a reason to distrust Gereon Alexius, this was it. The Breach threatened all of Thedas, and most likely the planet as a whole. A Tevinter magister would likely have the education to properly understand that threat, and yet here he was holding back vital aid to literally the only person capable of sealing the Breach. Whether or not he knew of the mark and its uniqueness, Alexius should by all rights be offering anything and everything he had to help with this global crisis. That he was trying to bargain at all meant that he almost certainly had an ulterior motive.

All the same, the game had to be played. “Well, with the Veil torn open, spewing forth demons left and right, we can hardly think small, now can we?” Aloisia asked. “The world is in danger, and I’m calling on you as one of its denizens to offer what help you can.”

Alexius was ready to counter her. “There will have to be…” He didn’t say any more as Felix returned, his face and body both stiff as he stumbled forward awkwardly.

Aloisia and Alexius both got to their feet, only for Felix to fall forward into Aloisia, or so it appeared. Something was pressed into her hands. It felt like paper or parchment of some kind, so she closed her fist around it as she ‘helped’ the young man to his feet.

“Felix,” the magister said as he rushed to his son’s side. Whatever else Gereon Alexius was, he did seem to be a genuinely-concerned father.

“I’m so sorry,” Felix said as he knelt on the floor. “Please forgive my clumsiness, my lady.”

“It’s perfectly all right,” she assured him. “No harm was done. But are you yourself feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” Felix said weakly, almost half as a protest.

Whether or not it was the Blight that was afflicting him, or else something else, Felix’s father did not seem surprised, though he did seem saddened. “Come. I’ll get your powders,” he said to his son before turning back to Aloisia. “Please, excuse me, friends. We will have to continue this another time.”

Magister Alexius seemed eager to be away from the tavern, whether to help his son or for other business. “Fiona, I require your assistance back at the castle,” he demanded. Aloisia noted that he treated the Grand Enchanter as a servant, and also that he had taken Arl Teagan’s castle as his own.

The conversation died down. Felix apologized to everyone, and his father declared that he would be in touch with the Inquisition to conclude their business later. Once the Alexius family had left, Aloisia unclenched her hand and looked at the simple, short note written on the paper within. “Come to the chantry. You are in danger,” she read softly.

Finally able to breathe, Aloisia turned back to her companions. “So, we’re to go to the chantry, since we’re apparently in danger. What do you think? Trap?”

“Trap,” Varric agreed.

“Trap,” Sera concurred.

“Of course, it’s a bloody trap,” Blackwall muttered.

“It would certainly seem to be a trap, or it could be a genuine effort to reach out to us,” Solas said.

“I’m going to go with all of the above,” Aloisia said. “Come on, then. To the chantry. Let’s spring this trap and see what’s waiting for us.”

Chapter Text

The Maker, Dorian thought to himself, had a very peculiar sense of humor. The further away from Tevinter he ran, the more reasons the south kept giving him to miss the Imperium. Oh, the sneers and barbed whispers from the disdainful populace were almost charming with their familiarity, even if they were for different reasons than those back home. No, for all that Tevinter society could use a good change, at least the climate was agreeably warm.  In the here and now, Dorian found himself having to worry about snow, of all things.

And as if that wasn’t enough, not a single inn, tavern, or anywhere, really, had anything resembling proper wine. No, Dorian had been forced to down mug after mug of ale of all things. Any drink that required so much to intoxicate the imbiber should at least have the decency to be potent enough to require just the one glass – or the awfulness of a mug, in this case – pressed against his lips, but alas, it was not meant to be.

And finally, here Dorian had been waiting for Felix to deliver the message to the Blade of the Maker – the tales surrounding her all the more bold and contradictory with each different telling – a rift that he had no way to seal had the sheer gall to appear in the middle of the chantry! Either the Maker had a very sick sense of humor, or else He was looking to teach Dorian some very specific lesson. Wouldn’t that just be grand? The Maker himself intervening to fix the life of a Tevinter pariah.

It was highly unlikely, and the demons had the bad manners to get so close to Dorian that he couldn’t even properly cast his spells at them. No, he was forced into a literal melee like some Fereldan brute. A break in the fighting came as the demons turned to face away briefly, and Dorian looked as well to see a number of people just entering the Chantry. Whatever the tales of the Blade of the Maker, all of them depicted her as having long red hair with armor that looked dwarven. It was very definitely not dwarven, but it did vaguely resemble such works. All the same, the one person who could actually close the rifts was now in front of him.

“Good, you’re finally here!” he called out as jovially as he could. After all, first impressions mattered, and Tevinter had a bad enough reputation without Dorian spoiling it further with poor manners. “Now help me close this, would you?”

Thankfully, everyone else was considerate enough to draw the demons’ attention away from Dorian. Finally able to cast a proper spell, he happily added his proper share to the force of arms. Aside from himself, there was an elven mage who bore no facial tattoos nor a single hair upon his head, and a dwarf with such an interesting crossbow that it had to be Varric Tethras.  He’d have to let Maevaris know that the author was doing well for himself.  Another elf, a woman with an absolutely atrocious haircut, let fly a number of arrows with such skill that Dorian would bite his tongue and be thankful that she was on his side. A human man with too large a beard and a Grey Warden chest plate drew the attention of a fair share of demons, his shield protecting him as magic, arrows, and crossbow bolts picked away at his foes.

Lastly, there was Blade of the Maker herself. Dorian had wondered about that particular title, only to have those questions answered quite quickly as she unhooked a metal cylinder from her belt, only for it to ignite into a literal sword of fire that cut through the demons like a hot knife through butter. Oh, sure, he had heard the tales, but Dorian had thought them to be just that: stories told for dramatic effect. Seeing a literal blade of fire in front of him, cutting down demons left and right… It was no wonder so many spoke of her as if she was the Maker’s chosen.

And then, as if to confirm her status as a wonder of the world, the Blade rose her left hand up to the rift, let a cord of magic flow from her hand up towards the hole in the Veil, and then with a snap, the rift was gone. The temporal distortions all around similarly ceased, and Dorian made sure to put on a face that showed that he was impressed, but not too impressed. He didn’t want to come off as a fawning schoolboy. Even if what he had just seen was truly extraordinary, he was a man of taste and refinement. Then again, even the lowest slave would be a model of civilization here in the south.

A hissing sound indicated that the blade of fire had retreated into its hilt, and Dorian approached the woman who had just helped to heal the Veil. “Fascinating,” he said, focusing on the strange magic. “How does that work, exactly?”

The Blade of the Maker looked at him with a peculiar sort of look, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Or maybe, she wasn’t sure of the answer to the question. Oh, that was marvelously scandalous! “You don’t even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and… ‘Boom.’ Rift closes.”

“Something like that,” the woman said with a hard edge to her voice, which held an accent that seemed to smack of Wycome. “And who are you, exactly?”

Right. Introductions to the woman who can close the rifts and who wields a sword of literal fire. “Ah, how terrifically rude of me. Dorian of House Pavus. Most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?”

“Quite honestly? I’m feeling a bit out of sorts, Dorian. You see, I just had a most unpleasant conversation with one Magister Gereon Alexius. While I thank you for fighting beside us, you’ll understand, I’m sure, if I’m wary of someone just recently come from the capital of the Imperium.”

“How very suspicious you are,” Dorian said in what he hoped was a charming voice. “Though I do understand your caution, and I can hardly blame you. But Magister Alexius was once my mentor, so my assistance should be valuable, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Oh, I can imagine quite a bit,” the woman said in a low voice that might have been a threat. It occurred to Dorian that he did not yet know her name, only her title. “I am imagining why Felix would give me this note, and then why he would not be here when I arrived, for example. He may or may not have feigned illness to get me to come here, though his father certainly acted as though it was a serious matter.”

And that was something entirely out of anyone’s control. Dorian could not help Felix, nor could Alexius. For his part, Felix was treating his illness with a level of maturity that would put the entire Magisterium to shame. “He’s had some lingering illness for months now,” he explained to the Blade, not wanting to draw attention to the nature of that illness. The lad didn’t need to be shunned in addition to what he was already suffering. “Felix is an only child, and Alexius is most likely being a mother hen.”

“That, I can understand,” the Blade said as she seemed to relax ever so slightly. “For those I love, there is very little I would not do, even if it would go against everything I stand for in any other situation. All the same, a good motivation does not excuse an evil deed. Is Magister Alexius here for the sake of his son? For that matter why are you here, helping those your former mentor conspires against?”

To the heart of the matter then! Hopefully, Dorian would escape this meeting with his head intact. That particular prospect had been more in doubt than usual since he had come within reach of a weapon out of myth and legend. “It is as you said. Alexius is my former mentor, meaning he isn’t any longer. I sent the note with Felix to give to you. Surely you can see that there’s a great deal wrong here, even without the need for a note. Let’s start with Alexius claiming the allegiance of the rebel mages out from under you. As if by magic, yes? Which is exactly right. To reach Redcliffe before the Inquisition, Alexius distorted time itself.”

“Distorting time, you say? Not traveling from one possible future into the past?” the Blade asked, her voice taking on an almost academic inquisitiveness.

For his part, Dorian was delighted to hear that someone else – even if they were a southerner – had even considered the idea that had been his life’s work. Alas, Alexius had taken their shared work and turned it to horrific ends. “The latter would be quite an achievement, but I do believe the former is at work here.”

“That is fascinating, if true,” the elf mage chimed in. “And almost certainly dangerous.”

Dorian inclined his head slightly, wondering at the quality he saw in the mages of the Inquisition, or at least this one mage. “Very dangerous indeed, these distortions. Like the rift you just closed, yes? You saw how it twisted time around itself? Sped some things up and slowed others down? Soon, there will be more like it, and they’ll appear further and further away from Redcliffe. The magic Alexius is using is wildly unstable, and it’s unraveling the world.”

“While I don’t doubt your account, Dorian,” the Blade said, “it would be nice to have something more concrete. Something to read over. Formulas, instructions for rituals, anything that can give us an edge to understanding and counteracting this magic.”

“Well, in that case, you’re in luck! I helped create this magic, though this surely isn’t how I wanted to see it used,” Dorian said. “When I was still Alexius’s apprentice, it was purely theory. Alexius could never get it to work, and I was helping him in those attempts, so I never succeeded, either.” If only that was the foremost concern. “What I don’t understand is why he’s doing all of this. Ripping time to shreds just to gain a few hundred lackeys?” The Blade’s earlier words struck a nervous chord in Dorian’s mind. Had Alexius become so desperate that he was willing to go to such lengths in the hopes that these southern mages might succeed where the Circles back home had failed? Perhaps he thought Ferelden had new experiences in the wake of the recent Blight?

“He didn’t do it for them,” a joyfully familiar voice said from near the chantry’s entrance. Dorian hadn’t even noticed Felix slipping inside, which was probably for the best. It meant that he had taken pains to be stealthy.

Dorian smiled warmly at his old mentor’s son, marveling at the fine young man he had grown into. “Took you long enough,” he joked. “Is he getting suspicious?” he asked, making sure to leave no doubts with the Inquisition people as to how seriously he did actually take this matter.

“No, but I shouldn’t have played the illness card,” Felix confessed. “I thought he’d be fussing over me all day.”

“While I’m pleased that you’re feeling well for the time being,” the Blade interjected, “are you absolutely sure you weren’t followed? A worried parent with forces to spare is not someone you should deceive without care, especially if you’re the child of said parent.”

Felix was gracious enough to smile back. “I was careful, I promise, Lady Kallig. In truth, my father insists that I be left alone to heal. I do need the rest, but what’s happening now is more important.”

Dorian had to get a word in. “So it’s ‘Lady Kallig,’ is it? You’ll pardon my directness, but you never did introduce yourself.”

“So I did not,” the Blade acknowledged with a wry grin. “Aloisia Kallig, pleased to make your acquaintance, Dorian of House Pavus. My apologies for forgetting the social niceties. Dancing around an enemy during negotiations under false pretenses… It’s been a day, to be sure.”

“You’re right about the false pretenses, my lady,” Felix said entirely too seriously for Dorian’s liking. “My father’s joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists that call themselves ‘Venatori.’ And I can tell you one thing with certainty: whatever he’s done for them, he’s done it to get to you.”

Dorian had heard of the Venatori, but he hadn’t realized their personal interest in the Blade of the Maker. He hadn’t wanted to believe that Alexius was involved, but when he received word from Felix… He’d had no choice but to see for himself. The man who had once been his mentor deserved that much, at least.

Aloisia Kallig folded her arms and scowled. “I can only presume that neither of you shares your father’s supremacist views.”

“It’s not just Tevinter supremacy,” Felix protested. “Though, that alone would be bad enough. Add in time magic, tricking the southern mages into servitude to get to you – the only one who can seal the Breach – all of it is madness, plain and simple. I love my father, and I do love my country, but what my father’s been doing… It has to end.”

“I don’t think I could have put it better myself, Felix. It would also be nice if he didn’t punch a hole in time, given the one we already have in the sky,” Dorian said. He very deliberately kept silent about the pain that each of them were going through. Dorian himself as a former student, Felix as a worried son, both of them powerless to stop someone dear to them from making all the wrong choices.

“I can only think of one reason why a Tevinter magister - or a cult of Tevinter supremacists - would be obsessed with me, specifically. It has to be this,” Kallig said as she raised her left hand. That had been the one with the magic she’d used to close the rift. “Do you know anything else, either of you?”

“No, only that they’re obsessed with you in particular, Lady Kallig,” Felix said. “But if it’s because of your ability to close the rifts… Maker, could they be involved with them? Or with the Breach itself?”

Dorian did not want to think about such things. This meddling with time was dangerous enough, but acting as if the rifts and the Breach were a goal to some horrific end? “As terrying as the thought is, there are no small amount of my countrymen who would bring down the sky – quite literally, I fear – if it meant a return to the glory days of the Imperium. Some might go to such lengths merely to reclaim Seheron. Truthfully, both feats seem equally impossible, and impossible goals do tend towards extreme and foolish ideas that only make things worse.”

“I see. So, Alexius’s invitation to finish these discussions later are likely to be a trap of some kind,” the Blade of the Maker concluded quite accurately, if Dorian was any judge. “If I’m to spring it, then it will be when I choose to do so, and I’ll be ready for it when I do. Can I count on either or both of you to help when that time comes?” she asked.

“I’ll try to convince him of… I don’t know. Of something, whenever the time comes,” Felix said. “I can’t stay away from the castle much longer, though. But I’ll try to be by his side for any future encounters the two of you have. He’ll be less likely to take risks with me in the thick of things.”

“For my part,” Dorian said, “Alexius doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d like to keep it that way. I’ll be leaving Redcliffe quietly. When you do decide to deal with Alexius, Lady Kallig, I want to be there.”

The Blade waved a dismissive hand. “It’s Aloisia, please. Do what you have to do, Felix. As for you, Dorian, I’d like you to head for Haven to consult with what passes for experts in the Inquisition’s forces. Share your magical theories with the mages we have there, talk to my spymaster about Alexius’s strengths and weaknesses. Most importantly, be there so that I can call upon you at will when the time comes to deal with this once and for all. And if you’re worried about being received harshly, then wait at either the Crossroads or else at the villa out to the west, south of the farms, and you’ll be welcomed if you enter Haven in my company. With one magister in the mix already… Well, I suppose I should ask if you are a magister at all. While I can’t imagine that many magisters would choose leave the comforts of the Imperium, Alexius did just that. But would another do the same to save the south from his machinations?”

Oh, Dorian liked this woman. “Oh, you know the Magisterium. Always so fond of their machinations. And you yourself, Aloisia, are quite the pleasant surprise! You are the first southerner I have yet to meet who doesn’t use the word ‘magister’ as if every mage from Tevinter is such a person. Imagine the scandals back at home when they realize the Blade of the Maker isn’t just another southern barbarian.”

The Blade of the Maker arched an eyebrow. “Does the Imperium look at ‘scandals’ with the same sort of lens that the nobility of Orlais does?”

Dorian let out a genuine laugh. “Where do you think the Orlesians got all of their worst traditions from? Although, I have to say, they’ve taken the notion of a scandal and truly made it into its own form of art. Utterly vile, completely atrocious. It’s enough to make me homesick just thinking about it.”

And then the Blade of the Maker actually smiled and shook her head, muttering something under her breath. “I think I like you, Dorian. Go, make your way safely to the crossroads, and we’ll meet you there and make sure the guards don’t hang you the moment they see you. Can’t be too careful with all these not-magisters and their perfect mustaches. Seriously, what did you trade to what kind of demon to secure that marvelous facial hair, Pavus?”

Dorian resisted the urge to laugh out loud, for he quite liked this woman and respected her sense of humor. “Sorry, but that’s a dirty, filthy secret that I wouldn’t want to sully the Blade of the Maker with the horrors of knowing. But the experience was glorious, I promise you.”

“No doubt,” Aloisia Kallig said with a wide, white smile. “Go on, then. Go and don’t be seen or heard. And if any of my soldiers give you a hard time at the Crossroads, then be sure to point them out to me. They should know their duty, but if they need to learn a lesson, then I’d rather have it be sooner than later.”

“Lady Kallig, are you sure you’re not trying to offer me a night of erotic entertainment?” Dorian teased. “'The Punishment of a Guardsman,’ in all its glory for the sake of a dastardly not-magister?”

“Out!” Kallig said loudly, though her voice held a trace of laughter.

“Bah, fine! I take it all back. You’re no fun at all. Off to the Crossroads it is,” Dorian said as he secured his staff and made his way to the door of the chantry. Closing it behind him, he finally allowed himself to think a bit more deeply about Aloisia Kallig while he made his way out of Redcliffe. As a necromancer, Dorian knew a lot about the living, the dead, and spirits of the Fade. Aloisia Kallig was clearly alive, and she bore none of the signs of the more subtle, functioning individuals back home that southerners would cry ‘abomination’ over, despite such mages maintaining control of their mental faculties.

So why couldn’t Dorian shake the feeling that the Blade of the Maker kept the very close company of remarkably potent spirit?

Work never seemed to end for Leliana and the other leaders of the Inquisition, and for once, when things had gotten heated, Josie had not been the one to moderate between Cullen and herself. This time, Leliana wasn't one of the arguing parties at all. No, it had taken a call from the Blade on the strange device to convince Leliana to finally instigate a change that had long been on Aloisia’s list of things to do, and it had taken a letter in the Blade’s own poor handwriting to convince Cullen, at least, that it was not something that Leliana had simply made up.

The news from Redcliffe was disturbing, to say the least. Leliana had not yet shared with the others what the Blade had shared with her. A Tevinter magister enslaving the Mage Rebellion with time magic of all things! Leliana had a tendency to blame herself when she was caught by surprise, but when the arcane came into play, it was easier to cast the blame elsewhere. Easier still when time of all things was involved.

That was not what the argument was about, however, and it was difficult to see Cullen and Josie at odds, with one another, even if it was more that Cullen was being stubborn than it was anything at all to do with Josephine. Aloisia had also recounted a favor that she had done for Solas. Supposedly, it involved finding an artifact to strengthen the Veil, and while Solas’s word was hardly worth trusting, the Blade had noticed that the demons had seemed weaker after the artifact had been activated.

Despite that, it was Solas’s interaction with a Dalish elf named Mihris that had claimed to have been First of Clan Virnehn, and was investigating the Breach on behalf of her clan. What had caught Aloisia’s attention was that Solas had accused Mihris of lying, and that he had done so in Elvish. Mihris had suddenly seemed afraid, but they activated the artifact together. Before they parted, Mihris had been about to take an artifact for herself, but Solas intervened – again in Elvish – and had supposedly said, “Help me. Believe in me. The path to victory.” Mihris then relented and surrendered the artifact to Solas.

Leliana did not know how Aloisia could understand another language so fluently after only being on this world for less than a year, but she had promised to explain herself when next they spoke in person. Regardless, the Blade believed that Solas had his own agenda, keeping it deliberately hidden from the rest of the Inquisition by speaking in a tongue they would not understand. The Blade believed it had something to do with elves as a people, and to that end, she had told Leliana that they could no longer maintain the status quo in the Inquisition regarding which positions where elves where permitted to serve.

Technically, there was no rule forbidding elves from military or diplomatic service, but the reality was that elves tended to serve the Inquisition almost entirely as spies or, far more commonly, as servants. Aloisia had wanted to make the Inquisition a true meritocracy. Everyone was to serve where they were best suited, and that would mean that some elves would be elevated into higher positions, and some humans would be relegated to positions most commonly thought as beneath them.

It would not be popular, for it was another side effect of the Chantry’s long-standing stance on ‘lesser races,’ but it was the right thing to do. Josie was concerned about what certain nobles might think of elves bearing official messages, or else actually negotiating, but she herself wasn’t against the idea. Cullen was far more aggressive, claiming that it would disrupt the soldier’s ability to function together as a proper military force.

Cullen hadn’t believed that the Blade would order this, so Leliana showed her the note written in Aloisia’s sloppy penmanship. It was getting better than it had been when she’d first put quill to paper, but Josie insisted that it would be some time before she allowed the Blade to pen her own official letters. In her own written language, she was entirely fluent, and Leliana was trying to learn the language called aurebesh so it could be used as a written code between herself and the Blade. It was a simple cipher, but an added layer of protection was never unreasonable.

All of that had taken place less than a week ago, since which the Blade had arrived back at Haven with two new supposed allies. Warden Blackwall was a capable soldier who had been an inspiration to many of Cullen’s recruits. Alas, if Aloisia was to be believed, he might not actually be a Grey Warden at all. That could complicate matters. Whether or not he was really a Grey Warden would likely be irrelevant unless they ended up having to deal with Darkspawn in far greater numbers than were normally seen outside of a Blight. His ability in a fight and his ability to inspire were both incredible assets.

And then there was Dorian Pavus of the Tevinter Imperium. When Leliana had first laid eyes on him, it was when he was walking into Haven while sharing a joke with Aloisia. The two of them clearly got along well, for Leliana hadn’t truly seen the Blade laugh and smile as genuinely as she did with Dorian. As they had come into earshot, Leliana could hear them actually flirting with each other quite shamelessly.

Only after Leliana had her agents separate them to question Dorian – Aloisia had made sure to emphasize that it was to be a debriefing and not an interrogation – that her fears of a possible malign influence on the Blade’s heart were assuaged. She and Pavus were mutually incompatible, each being attracted exclusively to their own gender. The flirtations were just a game to lighten the mood, apparently. All the same, Leliana couldn’t help but be bothered by it.

It was now two days since the Blade and her party had arrived back in Haven, and things were happening incredibly quickly. Dorian’s information had checked out, as had the man himself, so he was given free rein of Haven. It wouldn’t do to discriminate so soon after measures were installed to prevent such things. Now, however, came the daunting task of deciding what to do next.

Leliana stood off to the Blade’s left in the War Room with Cassandra standing next to her, Josephine opposite Aloisia at the other head of the war table, and Cullen opposite the former hands of the Divine. All of them had a terrible conundrum on their hands with the mages in Redcliffe. Dorian Pavus’s warnings – along with those from the magister’s son, if Dorian was to be believed – were terribly distressing.

“Just so I understand things clearly,” Cullen said, his brow furrowing in the way it did when he was trying to hide a headache, “the mages have thrown in their lot with a magister who belongs to a cult that may have been responsible for the explosion at the Conclave. And you still want to recruit them?!”

The Blade folded her arms across her chest and stared at Cullen, as she did when she took a position and dared anyone to contradict her. “I do, Commander. Although at this point, it’s less ‘recruitment’ and more ‘rescue.’ From what I’ve seen, time is indeed distorted in Redcliffe. Dorian understands the underlying magic behind it far better than I do, so I hope your agents were gentle enough with their questioning, Leliana, to coax the answers out of him rather than scare him into silence.”

“They were,” Leliana confirmed, though her voice took on a hard edge. She didn’t like anyone questioning her capabilities or that of her agents. “They know how to ask questions gently just as well as they know how to conduct a rougher interrogation. If there is to be any operation on Redcliffe Castle, Dorian’s aid will likely be vital.”

“An operation on Redcliffe Castle? Do you hear what you’re saying?!” Cullen yelled, and Leliana was thankful that the mages and tranquil from Montsimmard had engraved silencing runes into the war room. The Blade did not like the idea of using tranquil at all, but she couldn't deny their usefulness, even if she would rather have freely cooperating dwarves working on enchantments. “That castle is one of the most defensible fortresses in Thedas!”

“Please, we must think in broader terms!” Josie said, her voice calm and level despite its volume. “A move against Redcliffe Castle would be a provocation that we simply cannot afford. We have some Chantry support, but the surviving grand clerics are hardly unified. More than that, while Orlais sees us as a curiosity, many in Ferelden sees us as Orlesian, and their recent history with Orlais is not something that most Fereldans are able or willing to look past. Such a move would be seen as an invasion, and it could escalate beyond the Inquisition into war between Ferelden and Orlais.”

Aloisia silenced the room by closing her eyes and bringing her hands up to her head, steepling her fingertips at her forehead while her hands formed a two-sided triangle of sorts. The Blade tended to use this gesture as a means of signifying that she was on the cusp of developing a headache due to bickering, and that she was about to loudly assert herself. Leliana, at least, had noticed this, and a look at Josie told her that even if her friend didn’t yet understand the Blade’s body language, she understood what Leliana had interpreted. Cullen had noticed the room going quiet, and he followed suit. Cassandra had yet to speak up.

“Before we go any further into what we are going to do about the situation in Redcliffe,” Aloisia said, her voice strained, “I’d like an update on our standing with the leaders of Thedas. Josephine, have you been able to tide things over with Empress Celene regarding the incident with Enchanter Vivienne?”

Josie seemed momentarily caught off-guard, but she recovered quickly. “Empress Celene was initially very displeased when word reached her of your actions at Ghislain. However, our representatives brought eyewitnesses with them, and with court in full session, accepting that her court enchanter was a maleficar was not something that she could abide. She decreed Vivienne de Fer to be a criminal to be executed should she return to Orlais, though she recognizes the Inquisition’s custody of her for the time being.”

“And what does that recognition amount to, exactly?” Aloisia asked. Leliana silently approved. It was good that their leader understood that surface acceptance was an entirely different thing from actual support.

Josie took a deep breath. “Empress Celene has expressed to us – through back channels – that while she understands your personal position as well as that of your role as Blade of the Maker, she did not appreciate being shown up in her own court. That she recognizes you – and by extension, the Inquisition – at all as a force to parlay with is a sign of our growing support. However, this is likely a debt that she will try to collect upon at some point in the future. Should the Inquisition grow strong enough, she may ask that we intervene on her behalf in the Orlesian civil war. For the time being, however, Celene is merely observing us, waiting to see what sort of organization we become, and where you lead us, Lady Blade.”

Aloisia nodded her head, her face expressionless as she took in this information. She didn’t let anything of her true intentions show just yet, but she was clearly paying a great deal of attention. She’s not unlike Justinia in this way, Leliana mused silently.

The Blade turned to Cassandra. “Seeker Cassandra, I don’t suppose you have any unique insight as to how Nevarra might be feeling towards the Inquisition?”

“I doubt that very much, my Lady,” Cassandra said, her voice quivering just the slightest bit as it did whenever her royal relations came up. “What I can tell you is that the current king is old and quite possibly senile, and when he passes, there is likely to be a succession crisis that could lead to civil war. I would guess that Nevarra is more concerned with itself than it is with the Inquisition, and that it will be for some time.”

“That is an accurate summation, Seeker Cassandra,” Josephine said. “Nevarra is looking to its own future, and while Orlais remains divided, Nevarra will keep its eyes further north. If Grand Duke Gaspard should emerge victorious against Empress Celene, however, then Nevarra may need to find allies against potential aggression from Orlais. A potential alliance with Ferelden would depend on who succeeds King Markus, and when any possible succession crisis is resolved.”

“Thank you, both," Aloisia said with a polite nod of her head. "I’d ask about Tevinter, but I’m hoping we can use this Venatori cult to leverage something out of them once they've been dealt with. But Ferelden is where our problems are right now. Cullen, you’re Fereldan, yes? Do you have any insight as to how your countrymen on the whole view the Inquisition? Haven is within their borders, so I hope we don’t appear to be trespassers.”

“Well, the Fereldan recruits that have joined us are mostly outraged that the attack at the Conclave not only killed so many people, but that it happened on Fereldan soil,” Cullen said. “Add to that the help you’ve provided in the Hinterlands, and your everyday Fereldan seems to view the Inquisition rather favorably. As to the nobility, I would ask Leliana. She traveled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Fifth Blight, right alongside King Alistair before he took the throne.”

Leliana swore she could feel a tangible pressure as the Blade turned her gaze upon her, arching her right eyebrow. “You have a personal relationship with the king of Ferelden? And I’m just learning this now?” Before Leliana could offer a defense, the Blade once again brought her fingers together at her forehead before taking a deep breath and lowering her hands to her sides. “Never mind. It's something we can use. What can you tell me about King Alistair and his views of the Inquisition? Have you been in contact with him at all since the Blight ended, and would he be receptive to us cooperating with him in liberating Redcliffe?”

Leliana chanced a glance at Josie, and a slight nod from her friend told her that she wouldn’t mind Leliana taking point with answering the Blade’s questions. “You should know that King Alistair is a bastard son of the former king, but his heroics in ending the Blight and a good marriage have made for a stable Ferelden with a king and queen who are both quite well-liked by the people. While Alistair may rule in name, Queen Anora rules just as much in fact, if not more so than her husband. Their marriage was a political play for unity at first, but they’ve grown close enough to be… Not exactly fond of each other, but entirely allied in ruling Ferelden as best they can.

“When Divine Justinia recruited me, I was more often than not the one who acted as a messenger to King Alistair. I consider him to be a friend, and I like to believe he thinks of me the same way. My correspondence with him was vital for getting the Conclave to happen at all, and especially arranging for it to happen in Haven. More than that, he’s told me that he is quite grateful for the aid you’ve given to his people in the Hinterlands, and he’s stepped in with a few unhappy nobles to make sure that Haven remains available to the Inquisition. He does not know much of you, personally, but given that Redcliffe is his childhood home, I imagine that he would welcome any aid in taking it back. He is not a proud or arrogant man who will turn away help given in good faith.”

The Blade nodded in understanding, and Leliana could tell that a decision had been made. “Good. Write to King Alistair and inform him of everything we know about the situation in Redcliffe, the Venatori, and our intentions for the mages. I’m unsure how Ferelden’s court of nobility works, but I’d like all of them to understand that the Venatori are the enemy, not the mages who sought shelter there. I can tell you that the mages are far from united in agreement with being slaves to Tevinter, and that this was less of a choice and more of a carefully-woven deception to coerce and subvert the mages. I know the people’s initial instinct is to blame magic and mages, and I want to avoid that if possible. Are there any objections?”

Leliana resisted the urge to smile. The Blade was honestly asking for their opinions, but she had no idea how fierce she seemed. It would take a great deal for anyone to dare object to her once she had decided upon a course of action. Leliana also noted that Aloisia referred to the mages as slaves rather than indentured servants. It seemed to be a personal matter for her, and it led credence to her claim to have been born into slavery.

As the silence greeted the Blade, she leaned over the war table, both of her hands gripping the edge to prop her up. “Good. Now then, if I recall correctly, the Hero of Ferelden was able to gain access to Redcliffe Castle during the Blight. Leliana, you wouldn’t happen to know how she did that, would you?”

“As it happens, I do,” Leliana said. A flood of memories came rushing back to her, and the infiltration of Redcliffe Castle seemed like yesterday rather than a decade ago. “There’s an escape route for the family that exits in a windmill. With a magister in charge, however, there may be safeguards that my agents can’t predict. I believe that if there is to be an infiltration, Dorian may be key to helping us get through safely. If he truly was a student of the man in charge now, then he will know better than any how to counter his magic.”

“I agree,” Aloisia said. “And while I would very much love to plot out the infiltration right here and now, I do not want to risk an incident with Ferelden over a perceived invasion. Please, get in touch with King Alistair, Queen Anora, whomever else you might need to talk to in order to secure us permission to either work together, or at the very least to attempt to solve things without being seen as invaders.”

“It will be done,” Leliana said. “Josie, perhaps you might pen the letter to Queen Anora? You seem to understand her better than I.”

“I fear it is far simpler than that,” Josephine said. “Quite frankly, Queen Anora looks at you and sees a companion of the woman who killed her father. The fact that her marriage to King Alistair has lasted this long is a minor miracle by Fereldan standards.”

“Of course, that would be it,” Leliana said to herself. It wasn’t as if Leliana had been the one calling for Loghain Mac Tir’s head. No, that had been almost entirely Alistair. He rarely spoke of his relationship with Anora, but perhaps Leliana ought to ask him about it. She had too few friends in this world as it was, and she would not like any of them to suffer quietly.

“There’s one last thing,” Cullen said. “This isn’t about Redcliffe or Tevinter, but a man came by representing a mercenary company that’s looking specifically to enlist with the Inquisition. Mercenaries don’t usually get to be picky with their clientele, but the Bull’s Chargers do come highly recommended from the sources they provided.

And there was another issue that Leliana absolutely had to warn the Blade about. “I looked into them, and while the company as a whole does indeed seem above board, their leader would be the one who made the request, and I believe this merits careful consideration.”

Aloisia looked from Cullen to Leliana and found them locking eyes in agreement. This was not a common occurrence, so it had to be a serious issue worthy of the careful consideration that Leliana was warning her about. “I’m listening very carefully, I promise you. Please continue, Sister Leliana.”

“A mercenary company would be easy enough to hire onto for anyone, and from there, a spy could gather quite a bit of information without arousing any suspicion at all,” Lana said from within Aloisia’s mind.

“And yet, it’s the leader of the group they seem to be concerned with,” Aloisia countered with her thoughts. “Depending on the loyalty they command… Let’s just listen for now.”

Leliana made a point of meeting Aloisia's gaze head-on, as if to say, ‘This is of vital importance.’ “The leader of the Bull’s Chargers goes by ‘Iron Bull,’” the spymaster said slowly. “Which makes more sense given that he is Qunari.”

Now that changed things. “Qunari?” Aloisia asked. “Not Vashoth or Tal-Vashoth, but Qunari? Or are we merely speaking of the species most associated with them?”

Leliana shook her head. “Qunari, both the species and the organization. His lieutenant – a man named Cremisius Aclassi – tried to prevaricate, but my agents questioned him until he yielded the information, though he didn’t seem too upset by having his hand forced. From Aclassi's attitude, Iron Bull is a rather casual individual, and the Bull’s Chargers themselves don’t seem to be Qunari agents, but I will keep looking.”

As much as Aloisia hated to admit it, this was a blind spot of hers. She had heard of the Qunari, for sure, but it seemed as though no one truly knew anything about them, at least of those she had spoken with. Varric’s novel painted a picture, but she wasn’t sure as to its reliability. “So, is there something strange about a Qunari leading a mercenary group that has you all so concerned?”

“Very much so,” Cassandra said, and Aloisia made sure to give the Seeker her undivided attention. Cassandra had been speaking up less and less at these meetings, but when she did speak, her words always had direct and consequential meaning. “The Qunari live under a social structure that is far more rigid than anywhere else in Thedas. They do not even have individual names, not truly. ‘Iron Bull’ is likely a façade to blend in outside of the Qun. Their names, such as they are, are merely titles. They would translate to 'warrior,' 'healer,' and so on. And their roles are decided for them by others when they are still young.”

“And the reason why the Qunari despise Tal-Vashoth so much?” Leliana prompted. “They are those who resisted the Qun and its attempts to pin them down. Tal-Vashoth are often vicious bandits, for the Qun is so strict that it leaves them psychologically blind to any other alternatives. And that’s assuming they escaped the notice of the Ben-Hassrath.”

Aloisia held up one hand as a way to ask them to pause for a moment. It was all that was needed, but she couldn’t help but notice that when the bickering truly got out of hand, she would start to hold her hands in front of her face the same way Lana did whenever Aloisia would start to goof off and try to have some fun with Alliance business at hand. Given how the room had begun to quiet when she made that gesture now, it seemed as though her own advisors now felt the same fear that she had felt when she caught Lana making that gesture out of the corner of her eye.

“As if I could ever stop you, Aloy,” Lana teased. “Things were never dull with you running the Alliance, I’ll give you that much.”

“You give me too much credit,” Aloisia responded warmly. “You practically ran the Alliance, Lana. You and Theron, you built up the foundations from nothing while I was imprisoned in carbonite. And those foundations are the reason why the Alliance will survive, just the same as why the Sith Empire and Zakuul will die off, however slowly. Your influence may continue to be felt long after… Long after he is gone and forgotten.”

“I take it the Qun is the societal structure of the Qunari?” Aloisia asked aloud, trying to banish thoughts of the Sith Emperor from her mind. A nod from Cullen confirmed this. “And the Ben-Hassrath? They are some sub-group within the Qun, I take it?”

“Spies and secret police,” Leliana said. “And they are the reason why so little is known about the Qunari. Infiltrating the Qun is next to impossible, and I haven’t dared to try. I’ve read reports from previous Left Hands and their agents, and what little they've gleaned is an extremely strict society, to the extent where infiltration is all but impossible. In fact, most of what we do know doesn't come from any agent at all, but from a very few Tal-Vashoth who were willing enough or else subdued long enough to share what they knew. Qunari subscribe to their predetermined roles to such an extent that the slightest deviation is immediately looked upon with suspicion. An outsider would not escape notice for long, if at all. I found only one report from an agent of a previous Left Hand who managed to escape Qunari notice after his partner was captured. He described how the Qunari broke his partner and subverted her. The possibility of another agent of the Divine, along with all of their knowledge, falling under Qunari control is a risk that hasn't been taken ever since, and it would be great fool who dared to try."

“Subverting a trained spy?” Aloisia felt her body go numb, for she knew how such things were possible in the Sith Empire all too well. When she’d ascended to the Dark Council, she’d been granted access to information regarding ‘castellan restraints’ that could be placed upon an individual’s mind, putting them at the whims of whomever had their keyword available. One of her few actual friends in the Empire – an exemplary agent known to the Empire as Cipher Nine, to those with access to her file as Aratania, but to Aloisia as Ilara - had suffered such a fate.

Born in the Chiss Ascendancy as Boadil’ar’atania, she had been part of the Chiss’s own secret police before joining Imperial Intelligence. As a sign of cementing her loyalty to a cause higher than herself, she had forsworn her extended family name of Boadil to avoid being caught up in the politics of the Chiss Ruling Families. Aloisia had met her on a shuttle - the Black Talon - en route to Dromund Kaas just after Aloisia had finished her trials on Korriban, and they had worked quite well together when orders came down from on high. Neither of them had been in a position to refuse back then, but the mission served to forge a bond of friendship.

Aratania had explained the concept of a Chiss core name, made up a combination of their three-part formal name. The first and third parts belonged to an extended and birth family, respectively, with the middle section being a given name. Core names were only used by close friends, and the fact that Aratania had supposedly shed the Boadil name meant a great deal when she asked Aloisia to call her by her core name of Ilara.

Time passed, and Aloisia was outraged when she learned the circumstances that prompted the castellan restraints - a literal mind prison – to be inflicted on Ilara. The spy had stopped the rogue Dark Councilor, Darth Jadus, from murdering thousands if not millions of Imperial citizens in a power play. She had even been able to talk him down without needing to resort to sabotage or violence. And the ruling Sith at the time, in their fear, had felt that no one should pose a challenge to them, so they had ordered her mind to be caged. In a twist of supreme and cruel irony, the Republic had managed to gain wind of Ilara's keyword and they had used it to turn her against the Empire. She'd somehow managed to break free, though Aloisia didn't know all the details of how Ilara had freed herself.

By the time Aloisia and Ilara had both reached positions where they could be open and honest with each other again, their power dynamic had changed. Aloisia was a leader of the Empire, and while Ilara was essentially the only person keeping Imperial Intelligence together, she was one of Aloisia's subjects. So it wasn’t a casual invitation, but a formal summons that brought them together again, upon which Aloisia had apologized profusely for all of the suffering that her friend had endured, and she had practically begged Ilara if there was anything that she could do in order to undo the damage done to her. It was only then that Aloisia had learned that Ilara had not only freed herself from Republic control, but from the castellan restraints entirely. Aloisia hadn't pressed the issue, but had offered whatever aid she could. While Ilara had politely declined the offer, the two of them had managed to retain their friendship, even if it was skewed by their difference in social status.

The stories that Ilara had told of being subjected to the castellan restraints, of being subverted in such a way... Aloisia couldn't help but wonder and fear just what these Qunari were capable of and how. “Do we have any information on how the Qunari are able to subvert agents to such an extent? The way you talk about the Tal-Vashoth, you seem to imply that the Ben-Hassrath have power over them if they are caught. Can they force someone into obedience?”

All of her advisors fell silent, their gazes looking at each other but never at Aloisia herself. Either they didn’t have the answers, or they didn’t want to tell her the truth. “I can’t fight what I don’t know,” she hissed as her fingers dug into the wooden table. “If anyone has any information on what the Qunari can do to a mind, I need to know it! Now, people!”

It was only when she saw Josephine flinch that Aloisia realized that she had risen her voice quite a bit higher than she’d intended. “I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I’m sorry, everyone. This is… I’m still trying to learn everything I can, and it’s not exactly light material. I’m not upset with anyone here, I promise. But if this Inquisition is to function, I need to know who the players are. Allies, enemies, potential enemies, neutral parties. I can’t be ignorant, and I need all of your help.”

There it was, finally said out loud. As painful as it was to admit, as much as she hated to concede weakness, Aloisia could only do so much on her own, and she didn’t have her trusted Alliance here to support her. The people in this room were the best at what they did, and she needed their help. It was that simple, so why did it hurt so much to say?

“We will do what we can, my Lady,” Cassandra said, her voice softer than usual. “As to the Ben-Hassrath, I can tell you that they are effective as spies because not all of them are Qunari as you may picture it. Many humans and elves live under the Qun, and they can pass easily in our society without arousing suspicion.”

“I understand that, Cassandra,” Aloisia hissed, not realizing how tense she was, “but I need to know what the Ben-Hassrath can do to a mind. Please, don’t dance around the subject. This is… It’s personal.”

“I see,” Leliana said quietly, pausing as if to choose her words carefully. Indeed, the whole room had gone silent. Asking for help was one thing, but admitting a personal weakness... Aloisia was ashamed of herself. Thankfully, Leliana broke the silence and prevented her from wallowing in self-pity any longer. “From what we understand, the Qunari have a process that involves extended torture combined with careful interrogation and the usage of certain potions to affect a person's thoughts. Essentially, they break a person’s mind and then rebuild it into an image of their choosing. When they are done, a spy willingly reveals all they know, though they are most likely no longer aware of who they even are anymore.”

Possibly even worse than what Ilara went through, Aloisia thought. Ilara, at least, had been aware that she had been compromised, and it had allowed her to fight back.

“We learned most of this from Tal-Vashoth who were willing to talk, and this was the fate they escaped from,” Leliana continued. “The Ben-Hassrath re-educators would have simply done the same to them if they had been caught, rebuilding them into productive members of Qunari society. There is no real concept of individuality under the Qun, so it does not matter to them that they intrude so deeply into someone’s mind, so long as something useful remains to aid Qunari society.”

“Re-educators,” Aloisia repeated. She hadn’t heard that term in years, not since she was an acolyte on Korriban. If an acolyte was too willful to be a proper apprentice, but too talented to be executed, they would be taken away for ‘re-education’ and were typically never heard from again.

“So,” Aloisia said, putting all of the pieces together. “Qunari culture is strictly regimented right down to people’s thoughts. And yet, we have one leading a mercenary company. A Ben-Hassrath agent? Not policing his own people, but a spy, yes? He is probably using his ability to come and go throughout Thedas to gather intelligence for the Qun, and he wants to get close to the Inquisition." It was a guess that still felt like only half a question, and nobody contradicted her after a brief silence. "What happens if we refuse this offer?” Aloisia thought she knew the answer, but she wanted to hear the what the others had to say before she made any decisions.

Cassandra grunted in exasperation, though she sounded more tired than her usual grunts made her out to be. “If this Iron Bull is a Qunari spy, and if you accept him, then you will be able to watch him. If you deny him, then the Qunari will know that the Inquisition is on guard, and they will send elves or humans to blend in with the pilgrims or with the soldiers, and we will not know who to look out for.”

“Cassandra is right,” Leliana said. “As much as I hate to admit it, we need to accept this offer. And it may work two ways, offering us intelligence into the Qunari themselves. And while it is unlikely, given how long Iron Bull has spent away from Qunari lands, there is the small possibility that he might grow an independent mind.”

“I doubt that very much,” Cullen said. “And I don’t like this risk, not at all, but I won’t stand in the way. You do know that their brand of reason, as they see the Qun, is something they see as an obligation to spread to the rest of the world, right? The only thing keeping the Qunari from conquering Thedas is their relatively low numbers, but they would have us all submit to their way of thinking, and if we did not, then they’d kill us as a ‘mercy.’ They are fanatics. The Qun is so real to them that any independent mind is seen as an aberration that they simply don’t understand, so they seek to remove it.”

Understanding dawned on Aloisia as she turned to look at Cassandra. “Seeker Cassandra, I feel I owe you an apology. I did not listen to your concerns when I talked about what I saw as ‘reality’ from my point of view. Hearing what I have of the Qunari, I understand your concerns better, and I will do my best to listen better from now on.”

“I am pleased to hear it, my Lady,” the Seeker said without elaboration. Aloisia liked that about Cassandra. Nothing was wasted with her, and she was utterly without deceit. She said what she meant and nothing else.

“All right, then,” Aloisia said as she stood up a bit straighter. “Where are these Bull Chargers, and how can we get in contact with them?”

“They’re doing some fighting on the Storm Coast, here,” Cullen said, pointing to a spot on the map on Ferelden’s northern border. “Lieutenant Aclassi implied that they’d be there for some time to wait for our reply.”

“Then dispatch scouts to the Storm Coast and have them deliver a message to the Bull’s Chargers. Once we take care of business in Redcliffe, I’ll head up to the Storm Coast to meet with this Iron Bull and see just who and what it is we’re dealing with. For now, however, we have a magister and his cult to deal with. Let’s get moving, people. Whatever’s going to happen in Redcliffe… Well, all I can say is that I have a bad feeling about this.”

Chapter Text

Dorian liked to believe that he knew what his strengths were. He was a talented necromancer, a dedicated scholar, a connoisseur of fine wines, and far too idealistic for his own good. He felt at home in a good lounge or theater, talking about the finer points of academia or arcana with like-minded fellows. Sometimes, he liked to strut like a peacock, and he didn’t mind the comparison, for that was who he was.

Alas, he was now being forced not to strut, but to skulk of all things through a secret underground passageway through an entrance in a windmill. The whole situation had the kind of air about it that one would find in an especially cheesy mystery novel that Dorian had never, not once in his life picked up and read from cover to cover, and he would deny it to the end of his days. And yet, it was exactly such a circumstance that he found himself in, and not in a position of comfort, but rather leading from the front to scout for magical traps set by his former mentor, once a dear friend.

As if to twist the knife even deeper, Dorian noticed the telltale flicker of a rune concealed by a method he had developed alongside Gereon Alexius. He held up his hand, forced to hold his tongue, and extended his staff to dispel the trap. Really, this business of espionage was quite distasteful. You couldn’t talk at all for fear of giving yourself away, and someone else would always take credit for your accomplishments because you had to remain hidden and secret.

Dorian didn’t envy the Inquisition agents following him who had chosen that life for themselves, and he had to wonder at what had inspired them to choose this particular path. The Chantry always needed people from all walks of life, but the Inquisition was decidedly not the Chantry. That much was clear from the woman leading the organization.

If Dorian had to ask one question… Well, he had so many, but up there among those he most wanted to ask was why in the world the Blade of the Maker was not being referred to – by anyone at all – as ‘Inquisitor Kallig.’ She was clearly in charge, she had a good head on her shoulders, she was charismatic, and she was a rare spot of fun in the south of Thedas. She had turned out to be just as shameless a flirt as he was, and when Dorian had broached how it might be uncomfortable if they continued with it for too long, she had revealed that they neither of them was exactly compatible with the other, so it became a competition of sorts to see who could be the most audacious flirt during casual conversation, all while in earshot of devout pilgrims and earnest Inquisition recruits.

After Dorian had told the Inquisition everything he knew about Alexius and his machinations, Aloisia Kallig had taken the time to get to know him, and he liked to think he was starting to know her, if only just a little bit. She’d asked Dorian about himself, but had proven strangely reticent about talking about her own past. Perhaps that was to be expected, given that he was the son of a magister and she an escaped slave, and that gave him no small amount of pause about the subject of slavery when it would inevitably come up.

Truth be told, Dorian had never really much thought about slavery as a moral issue until he’d come down south and heard the sneers about how it made Tevinter barbaric. As much as Dorian would love to retort that the south had so many slums and alienages where the poor lived in squalor, those points had tended to come up only in arguments he’d witnessed his countrymen having with southerners, and even then it had been in the context of, ‘We may have slaves, but you have slums and alienages.’ Looking at it from a distance, it all seemed like an excuse.

That being said, for all of his family’s many faults, they did not abuse their slaves in the way that too many in the Imperium did. They were just part of the household, treated with basic courtesy when their paths crossed, but otherwise ignored. In truth, part of Dorian was afraid as to what Aloisia’s reaction would be upon learning that his family owned slaves. Would she strike him down with her sword of fire, or would she merely shun him for all eternity?

Dorian was far from unaccustomed to being shunned, but never from someone whom he respected. If the Blade of the Maker was to close the Breach and save the world, then Dorian would very much like to be in her good graces, for she would certainly become a woman of immense power if she could achieve such a feat. It wasn’t that Dorian wanted to bask in the adulation and share in said power, though he worked hard to project that veneer. No, in this particular case, it was a simple matter of self-preservation. Halward Pavus was a Magister of the Tevinter Imperium, but beyond being a truly horrible father, he was not a particularly dangerous individual.

Aloisia Kallig was the kind of woman who could shake the world with the power and influence that she would gain if she could close the Breach, and when people rose to such lofty heights, their gaze grew long and their ire grew baleful. Dorian sighed and realized that he’d have to simply tell her the truth himself. For all that she could become, right now, Aloisia Kallig was a woman that Dorian would like to call a friend, and such a person deserved to know who presumed to call her such.

Such thoughts would have to wait, however. Another telltale glimmer caused Dorian to pause and dispel another trap rune. It was a rather mundane and tedious process as they pressed onward. Dorian would dispel a trap, they’d move forward, Dorian would dispel another trap, an agent would slit an unwary guard’s throat, Dorian would swear that he’d never been this squeamish before, and then the cycle would repeat. By the end of it, Dorian had finally convinced himself that he wasn’t squeamish at all. That, or he had grown beyond such feelings in truth. A terrifying thought, really, to grow accustomed to the sight of bloodshed.

Finally, they had entered into the castle proper, and while magical traps were less likely here, Venatori agents in full armor were a more pressing concern. One of the scouts had been tasked with guiding Dorian to the main hall swiftly and silently while the others secured the castle. Supposedly, Arl Teagan was laying siege to the castle outside in a ruse to lure Alexius and his forces out, and the Inquisition was evacuating Redcliffe’s civilians while simultaneously looking for Venatori agents hidden among the populace.

The Inquisition assassins – Call them scouts all you like, that’s what they truly are – did a remarkable job at killing quickly and quietly. Dorian wanted to be sick knowing that so many people could do such things and sleep at night. Then again, wasn’t that just the way it was back home? Only those in power in the Imperium never got their hands dirty themselves, save for magical experimentation. When it came to removing rivals, they employed exactly such men and women as had sworn loyalty to Aloisia Kallig.

What did that say about the woman he wanted to call friend? Dorian decided not to think about it for now and resolved on following his guide and getting close to Alexius, where he could counteract his old mentor’s magic if the need arose, which Dorian was increasingly afraid it would.

The assassin led him to a hallway corner, quietly gestured for him to halt, and then stepped around the corner, presumably to kill whomever was on guard. The assassin backed up into view, likely letting the body gently to the ground, and motioned Dorian forward. A few more steps, and they were in the main hall of the castle. Aloisia was negotiating with Alexius, with Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast and the elven mage, Solas, at her side. At the very least, the Blade of the Maker wasn’t foolish enough to come here alone. Now, Dorian would wait. He couldn’t come out too early. He had to let Aloisia lure Alexius into letting his guard down, hopefully revealing something of the Venatori’s plans.

Before Dorian could form much more of another thought, he heard Felix speak up. “She knows everything, father.” Peeking around the corner, Dorian could see the confrontation playing out. He hoped it wouldn’t go as poorly as he feared.

“Felix, what have you done?” Alexius said. With anyone else, there would be anger and betrayal, but there was only sadness in his onetime mentor’s voice. Dorian could sympathize. It couldn’t be easy to try and save your son from death when he had already come to terms with his fate.

It was Aloisia who spoke next. “Your son is concerned that you’re involved in something terrible,” she said, and Dorian marveled at the world that could produce such a woman. Walking into the stronghold of an enemy who conspired against her, knowing that he was hostile, and she tried to empathize with him over concern of a loved one. Dorian couldn’t say he’d do differently. Felix was always easy to like and to get along with. He almost always seemed to draw out the best in people, with his father’s current actions being the one horrible exception.

“So speaks the thief!” Alexius all but spat, the venom in his voice a pain to Dorian’s ears. “Do you think you can turn my son against me?” He was growing visibly angrier as he rose from his seat in the Arl’s throne. “You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark – a gift you don’t even understand – and think you’re in control?”

Alexius let his words hang in the air, giving Dorian a moment to process them. ‘Stolen mark?’ Maker, the Venatori really were behind the Breach. Alexius… What has become of you, my friend?

“You’re nothing but a mistake!” Dorian’s onetime mentor spat at the Blade of the Maker.

“What do you know about the Divine’s death?” Aloisia spat back, evidently tired of playing word games and getting straight to the point.

Alexius’s response sent shivers down Dorian’s spine. “It was the Elder One’s moment, and you were unworthy even to stand in his presence.” The talk of a mad cultist was not uncommon in Tevinter high society, but it was this very attitude that Alexius and Dorian had both – together as mentor and student – rallied against in their quiet moments together.

“Father, listen to yourself!” Felix pleaded. “Do you even know what you sound like?”

It was too good of an opportunity to pass up, but for all that such things had helped in the past, making a dramatic entrance would bring Dorian no joy right now as he stepped out from behind his little corner. “He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be.”

“Dorian,” Alexius said in a soft, deadly voice. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down.”

Had he really done such a thing? Dorian searched his memory and recalled a few months ago a conversation about a restored Tevinter, a world without Blights, where no one would be forced to suffer like Felix. He’d dismissed it as the ramblings of a man in denial about his son, but had Alexius been trying to recruit Dorian? Maker’s breath! Could I have prevented this if I’d only been seeing clearly?!

“The Elder One has power you would not believe,” Alexius continued quietly, but with all the passion of a true believer. “He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

“So, it’s ‘the Elder One’ behind it all, is it?” Aloisia asked flippantly. “Who – and what – is this being you serve so blindly?”

“Soon, he will become a god!” Alexius snarled. “He will make the world bow to mages once more. We will rule from the Boeric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” an elven woman swore. Grand Enchanter Fiona, perhaps? This was most likely not what she had in mind when Alexius extended his oh-so-generous offer of protection.

“Alexius,” Dorian said, pleading, stepping forward, desperate to reach the man he once knew, “this is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen! Why would you support this?” Dorian feared he knew the answer, and if it was what he suspected, then he would understand the desperation, if not what had emerged out of it.

“Stop it, father!” Felix practically begged. “Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach, and let’s go home.”

“No, it’s the only way, Felix,” Alexius said, taking his son by the shoulders. “He can save you!”

“Save me?” Felix said in disbelief.

“There is a way,” Alexius swore. “The Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple…”

Right then and there, Dorian vowed to find this Elder One and end him as painfully as possible. Filling a good man with false hope, driving him to desperation, coercing him to betray all that he believed in for the sake of a son who wanted nothing to do with such madness… It was entirely unforgivable.

“I’m going to die,” Felix said. He was so certain, so unyielding, and yet so calm. What a fine young man you’ve become, Felix, Dorian thought.

Alexius wasn’t listening anymore. “Seize her, Venatori!” he said, gesturing at Aloisia. “The Elder One demands this woman’s life!”

Only then as bodies began to hit the floor did Dorian realize that the Inquisition assassins has so successfully penetrated the castle that the only opposition left in the room was Alexius himself, but Dorian was not so foolish as to believe the danger passed. Alexius was already desperate, and now he had been backed into a corner. A worried father with all other avenues of hope dying around him… Dorian went for his staff, making ready for a rash decision that he hoped he wouldn’t come.

“Your men are dead, Alexius,” Aloisia said. “It’s over. Come quietly, now.” She said it like a demand, as if expecting to be obeyed.

“You are a mistake!” Alexius hissed, and then an all-too-familiar amulet began to glow, hovering in his palm. “You should never have existed!”

What was he doing?! He was… Maker, Alexius was trying to actually remove Aloisia from the timeline!

Dorian lunged forward, crying out “No!” in desperation as he cast a spell hoping to redirect the spell away from the Blade.

It didn’t happen like that. There was a magical reaction, and then Dorian felt himself pulled into something? A vortex of magical energy, possibly?

And then he fell into a dark room, and he felt his boots and clothes soak up water from the flooded… Maker, he was in a decent-sized room surrounded by three stone walls and one set of prison bars. The only illumination came from the ghastly amounts of the foul red lyrium growing out of the walls, leaving very little actual stone wall visible anymore. He’d heard about the stuff in rumors, but actually standing so close to so much of it was quite sickening. And next to him… Where was Aloisia Kallig? Where was the Blade of the Maker?

Dorian turned around and saw a nightmare. There she was, the only person who could seal the Breach, slumped against the wall, her head hanging at an odd angle, her eyes wide and blank. Aloisia must have hit the wall on her way out of the vortex and broken her neck. What a terrible end for such a good woman. More than that, the death of Thedas’s only hope…

“Maker, this is a nightmare,” Dorian said, not noticing the influx of about half a dozen armored guards, pouring into the cell before locking it behind them.

“Blood of the Elder One! Where’d they come from?” one of them exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter. Kill him!” another said.

And so, Dorian found himself casting barrier after barrier, hoping to stall their advance, with bolts of lightning interspersed between them. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering, but it felt like it would simply be in poor taste not to go out fighting.

As his barriers fell, the guards moved forward, swords leveled for a killing thrust. Except that barely a moment later, they were all sent flying backwards and hurtling into the metal bars as if hit with some invisible force.

Stalking forward past Dorian, towards the crumbled guards, was Aloisia Kallig. Dorian wanted to ask her how in the world she could be alive, but then he noticed something off about her. Actually, he noticed two things. For one, her eyes were no longer their bright shade of green, but an alien golden hue. For another, while she did wield a sword of fire, it was a fire the color of blood, and it lacked the blazing cross-guard that the flame-colored blade possessed.

Aloisia was silent as she attacked the armored guards. Lightning arced out of the fingertips of her left hand as she brought down her blood-red fire-sword in her other hand to cut down guard after guard, slicing cleanly through their armor and flesh seemingly without any resistance. Dorian had heard that the Blade of the Maker was a mage, but he’d thought that to be only talk with how she fought with her fire-sword. Now he knew better, having seen her lightning magic.

With the last of the guards either burnt to a crisp or else sliced into pieces, a hissing sound accompanied Aloisia disarming her weapon and then clipping it back to her belt. As she turned to face him, Dorian found himself transfixed by those unnatural yellow eyes. Remembering his necromancer’s intuition from earlier, just after their first meeting, Dorian realized that something was very wrong here. “I take it that you are not Aloisia Kallig,” he guessed as he readied his staff for a fight. “What have you done with her?”

The being wearing Aloisia’s skin held up her hands to examine them, as if taking stock of a body not one’s own. “Assuming that she was correct about the Force-walking ritual, I saved her life,” a female voice said, but it was most assuredly not Aloisia Kallig’s voice. It was surprisingly level and almost neutral, though it spoke with the tone of a civilized scholar. “Please, put down your staff before either of us gets hurt. Aloy told me that something like this has happened to her once, maybe twice before, and both times she was unconscious for a few hours, at least. The difference this time is that now she’s bound a ghost with no ill will towards her and every desire to see her recover and survive.

“I’ve seen Aloy talking with you, and I know that she counts you as a friend. Alas, she’s recovering at the moment, and she wouldn’t want either of us to suffer here while waiting up for her, so allow me to introduce myself. Lana Beniko, wife to the woman you know as the Blade of the Maker. Her life is bound to my death, and my death to her life,” Aloisia’s self-proclaimed wife said in a calm, neutral voice. “Now that introductions are out of the way, I believe we should find out where – and quite possibly when – we’ve ended up. Shall we get a move on, then?”

Dorian found himself at a loss for words, which was itself a distinct rarity. “I’m talking to the ghost of my friend’s wife, you say? If you’ll give me a moment, my world seems to be crashing down upon me, and I think I need to sit down for a moment.” And so Dorian attempted to sit down in the waters of the flooded floor, only to slip and fall on his back. He winced at the indignity of how he must seem. The pain was secondary to the humiliation.

Whatever Lana Beniko was, she didn’t seem to be without pity, for she did not laugh at his misfortune, but extended a hand to help Dorian to his feet. Against his better judgment Dorian took it. “I sympathize, truly,” she said, “but the galaxy doesn’t stop to consider anyone’s feelings. It’s entirely unfair, but we really need to hurry. Follow my lead.”

Whatever this thing was, it was trying to help him, or so it claimed. Dorian followed, but one word wouldn’t stop replaying in his head. Galaxy?!

It was a strange sensation, moving about in a body not her own. Lana knew that she and Aloy were roughly the same size and shape, but Aloy was a few centimeters taller, her limbs that much longer, and her senses all the keener due to her immense strength with the Force. Lana understood that her wife gained a great amount of power from having bound their spirits together, but it seemed to work both ways, if the brief encounter with the guards was any indication. Lana felt stronger than she ever had in life.

She might be able to disguise her eyes if she concentrated, but she wouldn’t be able to hide her voice. Wasn’t it odd that despite possessing Aloy’s vocal cords, Lana’s voice was still her own? A mystery of the Force, to be sure. Unfortunately, Lana couldn’t afford to expend any more energy than was absolutely necessary, not if she wanted Aloy’s spirit to recover as quickly as possible.

After falling through the rift, Lana had felt a pull on her very essence like nothing else she had ever felt before, and only when she tried speaking to Aloy did she realize that the true purpose of the Force-walking ritual was very much a reality. Aloy’s neck had snapped, but already it was beginning to heal from the energy that Lana had felt yanked out of her spirit. Unfortunately, the shock of the experience seemed to have caused Aloy herself to go into a sort of hibernation. She was definitely still in there, but she was so deeply asleep that Lana doubted if she was even dreaming, let alone wandering the Fade.

And then, there had been armored guards assailing their ally from the Tevinter Imperium. Though Dorian didn’t know it, Aloy’s flirtations with him weren’t primarily for his benefit. No, once Aloy had realized that neither of them would ever be attracted to each other, she had decided to flirt shamelessly with the man as a way to tease Lana. Sometimes her wife was utterly incorrigible with her manner of fun, but she never kept anything up if it truly irritated Lana.

She had thought to bring a hand to her head as if to rub away a headache, only to find herself in control of Aloy’s body. If they were to survive – Aloy, Dorian, and Lana’s own spirit – then she’d have to use Aloy’s body to help them all get through this ordeal. Lana hated herself for seizing control of her wife’s body, but the moment Aloy was recovered, she would yield everything back to her.

For now, she had to deal with the guards, who were swept aside and cut down without issue, only to deal with poor Dorian speaking to a stranger in the body of his friend. Hopefully, he wouldn’t protest or complain too much, for they would need to work together to survive this experience.

“Dorian,” she said carefully and slowly, not wanting to antagonize the man, “this architecture looks similar to what I saw of Redcliffe castle, albeit tainted by far more of this red kyber – lyrium, as you call it – than I had ever hoped to see. Magister Alexius developed some manner of time magic with your aid, if I recall. Could we have been displaced in time by whatever brought us here? And while this looks like Redcliffe Castle, it could be any other Ferelden fortress, or it could be somewhere else entirely. You’re the expert in this field of magic, as you call it. What can you tell us about our situation?”

“Before I share anything with you, I would like to know what you are, exactly,” Dorian said firmly. “According to what I know, Lana Beniko is the name of Aloisia’s dead lover. Now you claim to be her wife, or rather her ghost. You’ll forgive me if I don’t take your words at face value. Creatures of the Fade aren’t known for being the most reliable of sources.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Lana took a moment to steady her breathing. “Before we talk further, let’s step out of this cell. There’s too much contagion here, and I’d rather not stay too close to it if it can be helped.” Taking out her lightsaber once more, Lana cut a door out of the metal bars of the cell and stepped through before turning and waiting for Dorian to follow. “Now, then, let’s keep our voices down and talk like civilized people. How can I convince you that I am not a spirit of the Fade? Let me see... If I was such a being, then I would have possessed Aloy’s corpse very recently, or else she has been what is known as an abomination for quite some time, and I did not leave her when she died. Regardless, I’d have to be the embodiment of an aspect of some sort, yes? Would I truly possess such a fully formed personality if I was not my own person?”

“No,” Dorian said slowly, drawling out the word. “No, you would not. You didn’t possess Aloisia just now. You’ve been within her for some time, given that you seem to know things that happened in her past. What I don’t understand is how you can claim that she is alive. I saw her body, and she couldn’t have survived such a blow. No one could.”

“Normally, you would be correct,” Lana replied. She didn’t want to have to tell anyone any of Aloy’s true story without her present to choose what to share, but Lana didn’t see much choice. “But Aloy learned the secret of Force-walking from another ghost years ago. She once had four ghosts bound to her all at once, which was entirely unhealthy, especially since they all had their own agendas. She freed them, eventually, after their bargain with her was over with, and she only bound my spirit to her after I died prematurely. Neither of us wanted to be parted from the other. The ritual binds life to death and death to life. She cannot die as long as my spirit is bound to her, and I cannot pass on until she dies or releases me.”

“Fascinating,” Dorian said quietly. “If it’s at all true, that is. And if there is any truth to your tale… Why, it would rewrite the rules of necromancy as we understand them! Oh, the Mortalitasi in Cumberland would love to meet you, I’m sure. Before I decide that you actually are telling the truth, however, tell me about yourself. Something about you alone, not something that Aloisia would have lived through.”

Lana glared at Dorian, but couldn’t fault him for his suspicions, as much as she wanted to. “Very well. I was born in Kaas City to Kelsa and Jaren Beniko. My family was one of the wealthiest on Dromund Kaas, and my parents were among the foremost businesspeople in my homeland. When I was seven years old, my power manifested for the first time, and I was sent to Korriban to train in what you know as magic. I honed my skills there until I was twenty-two before finally being apprenticed to Darth Soverus. A year later, I was formally recognized as a Lord of the Sith. I would have gladly spent my life dedicated to academic study of the mysteries of the Force – what you know as magic – had I not come to the attention of Darth Arkous, who recruited me as an advisor for his war strategies.”

“All right! All right! I think I’ve heard enough,” Dorian said with an exasperated sigh. “You realize how strange you sound, don’t you? I’ve never heard of Kaas-anything, and I doubt anyone else has, either. I have no idea what a Lord of the Sith is, and I don’t know if Darth is a name or a title, but all of it sounds so far-fetched and utterly unbelievable. Therefore, it just has to be true, doesn't it? If you were going to make up a story to convince me, you would have tried something far more believable than whatever babble it is that just came out of your… No, that came out of Aloisia’s mouth. And I must tell you that if she does not come back, I will not let you leave the Breach in the sky. And if you attempt to harm anyone in her Inquisition, if you try to do anything to hinder the good she’s trying to do, then I will do everything in my power to end you, and to hell with death being bound to life or whatever nonsense that is.”

Lana breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “That’s good,” she said with a slight chuckle. “Aloy is lucky to have someone as loyal and devoted to her as you seem to be. She’ll need that if she’s to succeed, but for now, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. I wish more than anything that Aloy was here to take charge. It’s what she does best. It was always her destiny to be the hero. My destiny is to help her fulfil her own.”

“Destiny?” Dorian said, his voice disbelieving. “I wouldn’t have expected such a quaint notion from Aloisia’s wife.”

“Neither would I, once upon a time,” Lana said. “And now, we must put any discussion of such sensitive topics on hold, unless you want everyone to hear what you say when we find our way back.” Lana held out her left forearm and used her right hand to activate the holo-communicator welded to Aloy’s armor. Taking her lightsaber into her right hand, Lana held her left wrist level with her chest and switched Aloy's holo-communicator to record. She would definitely want an audio-visual record of everything that happened here. "All right, then. You were part of the group that infiltrated the castle, correct? Does any of this look familiar?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Dorian said, all traces of hostility gone, and his attention thankfully not on the device that Lana had just activated. “The spell he used was displacement magic of some sort, and it would have moved us to the nearest conflux of arcane energy, so it’s highly likely we’re still in Redcliffe castle. As for when we are… I suggest we look around, see if we can interrogate a guard or find some sort of documentation.”

“Agreed,” Lana said. “I’ll take point. I mean no disrespect, but if they come at us with blades, I can meet them head-on better than you can. Unless you can conjure a lightsaber out of your staff, that is.”

“Is that the proper name for your fire-swords? Alas, that is not among my particular talents,” Dorian said. “Very well. Lead on. I’ll watch your back. Both of you.”

Lana realized that Dorian was taking a great leap of faith in extending his protection to both Aloy and herself, so she turned to face him with a smile. “Your trust means a great deal to me. I’ll do my best not to betray it. Apart from your wrath, I doubt Aloy would ever forgive me if I did.”

Even if the hand wasn’t her own, it felt right holding her own lightsaber in what passed for Lana’s grip right now. It was a familiar bond that she hadn’t felt in far too long, and it was good to have it back. She and Dorian ran into a few guard patrols, but never comprising more than three or four guards at a time. Dorian utilized electricity in ways that no Sith ever had to the best of Lana’s knowledge, and while she would have loved to learn more about his magic, she was too busy fending off enemies of her own.

Whatever ritual Dorian used to call upon lightning, the Sith version was quite different. Contrary to what the Jedi taught, it was not exclusive to the Dark Side of the Force. Aloisia’s force lightning would usually sting, but it would be tempered. It would do exactly as much damage as was needed to kill or to subdue without any needless pain.

Lana rarely felt so charitable while in combat, and she fueled her own Force lightning with the Dark Side. Both Imperial and Republic infantry soldiers - not to mention the knights of Zakuul and any number of combat droids - had long since stopped wearing any metals in their armoring that would conduct electricity, but these pitiful Venatori were not nearly so advanced with their metalcraft. They had deceived so many people, done so much harm, that Lana felt no guilt at all about pouring her anger into her lightning to make them burn and suffer as their skin fried to a crisp in the metal cans they wore, their screams fueling her passion. They had done an unknown harm to her beloved, and she would make them pay!

“Has anyone told you that you are quite a frightening woman, Miss Beniko?” Dorian said airily.

“They have,” she confirmed. “I hope you can understand why I am quite upset. My wife would be dead if I was not here, and we have all three of us been displaced in time and space. I am not feeling merciful towards those who put us in this situation.”

“In that respect, you are not unlike Alexius,” Dorian countered. “And it was his anger on behalf of his son’s wellbeing that has put us in this situation to begin with. Please try not to follow in his footsteps.”

Lana felt her eyes widen as the impact of Dorian’s words hit her. “You’re right,” she managed to breathe out. "I apologize for my behavior. Now is no time at all to lose control of one’s emotions. Down these stairs, perhaps? Let’s take it quietly. I’ll try to immobilize any guards if I can. Come on, now.”

Dorian was thankfully compliant as they made their way down the narrow staircase. Lana had her lightsaber switched off to avoid the glow and the hum of the blade from giving them away. She rounded a corner to find two doors opposite one another, neither of them guarded. Lana thought she could sense one person behind each door, but something was very wrong with them. It was similar to the blighted wolves and the darkspawn, but also different in a way she couldn’t describe.

Opening the left door first, Lana saw a number of cells sealed by metal bars, each filled with some amount of red lyrium. The sparsest of these held a lone figure, and of course it had to be the suspicious mage, Solas. Hopefully, these dire circumstances would see him humbled and cooperative, she thought as she approached his cell.

Solas stood to his feet and his eyes widened as he beheld them. His body seemed to emit a red mist while his eyes had a red glow lurking behind them. “You’re alive! We saw you die!” he exclaimed, his voice reverberating unnaturally, but then he took a step back. “Or maybe she did die,” he said more quietly, as if resigning himself to a dismal fate. “You are not Aloisia Kallig, are you?”

“Very perceptive of you, Solas,” Lana said as she crossed her arms across her chest, just as Aloy did when she wanted to appear unyielding. “But rest assured, Aloisia Kallig is alive, though she is resting at the moment. If she hadn’t bound my ghost to herself, then she would definitely be dead. For the time being, my name is Lana Beniko, and if you can help Dorian and me get ourselves and my wife to safety, then I would welcome any aid you can offer.”

Solas simply nodded quietly before standing up straighter. “Lana Beniko, of course. I should have realized. But how have you evaded capture for so long? And how did you get here?”

“Oh, for the love of… Go easy on the poor man, would you?” Dorian said. “Alexius’s spell didn’t kill us. It sent us through time. Forward in time, if your reaction is anything to go by. We just got here, so to speak.”

As Lana used her lightsaber to cut away the lock to Solas’s cell, he stepped out and looked at Dorian with a desperate kind of hope in his eyes, as if he had almost forgotten how to hope at all. “Can you reverse the process? You could return and obviate the events of the last year. It may not be too late!”

“Just a moment,” Lana said. “We’ve been gone one whole year, you’re certain of that?”

“Give or take a few months, yes,” Solas confirmed. “Forgive me for not being able to provide you with an exact date, but it’s been hard to tell being locked down here for so long.”

“Just how were you captured?” Lana asked. “The last I recall, Aloy’s agents had control of the castle.”

“Not for long,” Solas said. “One of Leliana’s people made the mistake of getting too close to Alexius’s son. The rage of a desperate father is a terrible thing to behold, especially when the man with little to lose has magic at his disposal. Our people fell, Cassandra and I were taken captive, and as I understand it, a signal was sent to Venatori agents throughout Redcliffe, as well as to spies within Arl Teagan’s forces. Redcliffe has been in Alexius’s hands ever since, and the Elder One he serves has laid waste to the world. I have yet to see the damage with my own eyes, but I can feel how thin the Veil has become. It’s barely there at all, anymore.”

“I thought something felt off,” Dorian said from another corner of the room. “I didn’t want to believe the Veil was truly so frail, but reality is a cruel mistress.” Returning from the corner, Dorian handed a staff to Solas. “I’m not sure if this is yours or not, but hopefully it will prove useful.”

“Being of any use at all would be a welcome change from this past year,” Solas said as he took the staff in hand. “This world is an abomination. It cannot come to pass. You would think such understanding would stop me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.”

“What terrible mistakes might those be?” Lana asked, her suspicion raised once more around this man.

“Nothing that can help us now,” Solas said sorrowfully. “Let us hurry. We will need to be swift if we are to achieve anything worthwhile before it is too late.”

He was avoiding the subject, but it couldn’t be helped. At least Lana felt a bit of relief that she was recording this conversation. Hopefully, Dorian would keep quiet about that part. “Very well,” Lana said at last. “There’s one other person in the room across from here. It may be another prisoner. If so, maybe we will stand a better chance if they are fit enough to fight. Come on.”

Taking the lead, Lana crept towards the door across the hall and opened it as slowly and quietly as she could. A familiar voice could be heard through the crack in the door, praying. “The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next,” Cassandra chanted, her voice echoing strangely just as Solas’s did. “For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.”

Content that there was only an ally waiting for them, Lana stepped forward before a hand on her shoulder gave her pause. Solas was there, walking in ahead of her. “She will not trust you,” he explained. “I will give her my word that you are trustworthy, and I will hope she believes me.”

Solas might not be the most reliable ally, but whatever had happened in the intervening year had changed a great deal. Desperation might make him more dependable. “Very well,” she said, letting him take the lead.

Solas stepped forward and crouched down in front of the prison bars. “Seeker Cassandra,” he said gently.

“Solas! You escaped! How did…” Cassandra’s voice trailed off as her eyes found Lana and Dorian. “You… You’ve returned to us! Can it be? Has Andraste given us another chance?” she asked before lowering her head. “Maker forgive me. I failed you. I failed everyone. The end must truly be upon us if the dead return to life.”

“Yes, well about that,” Dorian said, clearly choosing his words with care. “We didn’t exactly die. Alexius didn’t kill us. He cast us forward through time. We’re hoping that we can go back and prevent this awful future from happening. As for the dead coming back to life…”

Lana sighed. “I’m sorry you have to witness this, Cassandra, truly I am,” she said as she stepped forward.

“Maker forfend!” Cassandra said. “You are not… What have you done to her?!” she demanded.

“I’ve done nothing at all to her, I promise you. Her spirit is merely resting and recovering from an awful trauma. As to who I am, I believe Aloisia once explained to you about her lightsaber and how it belonged to her.” Lana unclipped her own weapon, igniting its red blade and cutting through the lock on Cassandra’s cell. “This weapon belongs to me. I’m fairly sure Aloy told you why it isn’t hers to use, only mine.”

The Seeker’s eyes widened as the implications of the red blade’s true owner washed over her. “You’ve always been there, haven’t you? You speak as though you were in the room when she told us about it?”

“I’ve been with her for many years now,” Lana said. “And when I died, she bound my spirit to her own so that we would be together forever. Her life is bound to my death, and so she will recover in time. For now, trust that the woman you believe is chosen is the same woman I fell in love with and married, and that our goals are one and the same.”

“If you have any doubts, Seeker Cassandra,” Solas said, “then you need not believe her word alone. I have witnessed Lana Beniko in the Fade, and this is undoubtedly her.”

This was news to Lana, and she rounded on Solas. “What have you seen of us?” she half-snarled.

“Very little that I could understand, but a Spirit of Wisdom helped me to know a little. I saw you rescue Aloisia from the Spire of Zakuul, and I witnessed the desolation of Ziost, which you and Aloisia both blame yourself for.”

Lana acted on instinct, without thinking, and Solas was lifted up into the air and gasping for breath as Lana clenched her right hand to focus on clenching the Force around him. “Don’t you dare… Don’t you ever mention Ziost to me or to Aloy! An entire world is dead because of me, and that was only the one world I had resting on my shoulders. Aloy carries the weight of every world! Don’t you dare presume anything, you sad little wretch!”

“Beniko! That’s enough! You’re killing him!” Dorian shouted.

“He deserves it!” Lana snarled. “Always keeping so many secrets, never letting on about your true agenda. I see through you, Solas. This dark future is just as much your fault as it is anyone’s isn’t it? Another Ziost, all because of you!”

“Lana! Enough!”

Lana didn’t dare believe her mind’s ear. “Aloy?”

“Let him go, Lana. Please.”

Such gentleness, such kindness… She didn’t deserve it. “I’m sorry, my love!” Lana said aloud, letting go of Solas before retreating back into Aloy’s mind. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to lose control, but he mentioned Ziost, and all I saw was-“

“I know, Lana. There’s nothing to forgive. I’m here now, thanks to you. You saved my life again. Now take it easy for a while. I’ve got it from here.”

Lana sobbed as much as an intangible spirit could sob. “I love you, Aloy. And I need you. Force grant me strength, but I never realized how alone I felt without you until you came back just now. You must think me so pitiful.”

“Never, Lana. In truth, you always keep so calm and level-headed about everything… I wondered if you even could break down at all, but seeing you like that, it hurt to see you in such pain, but it also made me glad to see that you’re just as mortal as anyone else. I know you see me as this untouchable heroine that nothing can faze. How do you think I’ve always seen you, my love? We’re only mortal creatures, the both of us.”

Lana was in wonderment at how Aloy could still surprise her after all this time. Did she really view Lana as so fearless? “You are a marvel, my beloved. I’ll leave things in your hands, but I’m always here for you. And your holo-comm is recording. I figured you’d want a record.”

“I know, Lana. And I love you so much, marvel of my life. And please, don’t be too hard on yourself. I don’t know if I could take that.”

Lana noticed Aloy opening her eyes, and she knew that everyone would be seeing them return to their natural shade of green. “Sorry to keep you all waiting. As Lana promised, I’m still here, safe and sound. Or as much as can be said given the circumstances. Let’s find you some armor, a sword, and a shield, Cassandra. Then let’s keep moving and find out just what we’re up against.”

Lana saw the relief in everyone’s eyes as their savior returned to them. That’s who you are, Aloy, Lana thought to herself. You’re everyone’s hero. I never believed in heroes until I met you, you know? These people will never realize how lucky they are to have you. But I do, and I will never forget it, my dearest love.

Chapter Text

Aloisia remembered the confrontation with Alexius in the throne room before everything went dark. For a while, that was all there was: darkness surrounding her, even if it was actually warm and soothing. She couldn’t really feel anything with her five physical senses, so she stretched out with the Force. Doing so caused a backlash of mental pain, so she immediately stopped trying to search outside of herself and focused her efforts inward. Where was she right now? What had happened?

Focusing her memory, Aloisia remembered that Alexius had cast a spell, Dorian had tried something in response, and then a jolt of pain vaguely attached to her head before the darkness overtook her. Force, no! Did I… Did I just die? What does this mean for Lana? Lana! Lana, can you hear me?!

Silence answered her, and Aloisia had to remind herself to focus inward. The last time she had suffered like this, the ghosts that she had bound to herself had tormented her for hours on end. Before that, she’d been unconscious for a few hours after being left for dead, and that was assuming that she hadn't died then and there. Was that what was happening now? Was her body just lying limp with her soul somewhere between life and death?

No, that wouldn’t be the case. Lana wouldn’t let that happen. Aloisia knew her wife well enough to know that she wouldn’t leave either of them defenseless. If she were in Lana’s position, she would have taken control of her body and used it to defend both of them either until Aloisia was able to fully come back from the brink of death, or else to finish what she had started as the Blade of the Maker if she should not wake up in time.

Aloisia had trusted her life to Lana countless times, and this was no different. Such distinctions and separations were an illusion that was often very hard to see through.  In the Force, however, such distinctions had as little meaning as time or distance. Lana would do what needed to be done, and Aloisia would recover, and they would be together again. It was as simple as that.

It was time to focus inwards again.  It was time to focus on healing her spirit, her very self. Aloisia meditated in the darkness of her mindscape, letting her thoughts fade away and allowing herself just to be for a time, even if time had no meaning in this in-between state she found herself in.

Slowly but surely, her senses began to return to her. Aloisia heard Lana debating with Dorian, heard her speak of Dromund Kaas and Korriban, but she didn’t allow the consequences of such things to matter right now. She needed to heal. Dorian accepted Lana for who she was, and Aloisia was happy that the two had found a truce, but then she let that feeling pass.

Touch and smell began to return, and Aloisia felt a chill in her feet that came with the familiar sensation of walking through shallow water. Curious. The smell was foul, and it reeked of the Blight, but it was a real thing to be sensed all the same. Taste returned soon after, and she tasted her own saliva as she tried to keep herself hydrated during a fight. She felt lightning course outwards from her fingers, along with a need for revenge, a need to inflict pain and suffering for having taken her dearest Aloy away.

That was one of Lana’s thoughts, she realized, just as she knew that Lana understood that Aloisia wasn’t truly gone. All the same, she felt the pain in Lana’s soul as she worried about her beloved. About me. Force, you needn’t suffer like this, my love. But such a thought was a distraction from healing. She still needed her eyesight, ironically enough. How many times had every single instructor told her not to trust her eyes, but to turn to the Force instead? And yet, how was that any different than shutting out one’s ears, or one’s nose, or one’s hands?

Everything was connected, and each of her senses were a part of her. So it was that Aloisia slowly began to see again into the real world. She saw Lana free Solas from his cell, and she felt her wife's suspicion of him. Aloisia was aware of the world around her again, but she wasn’t quite strong enough to assert herself just yet. Time to focus inward again, to shut out the world around her even as it came rushing back.

As her spirit healed, Aloisia felt Lana free Cassandra, and she felt Solas vouch for Lana… From something he saw in the Fade? As much as Aloisia wanted to focus inward, every fiber of her being told her to pay attention to the world outside of herself.

And then Solas mentioned both Zakuul and Ziost as he would a curious museum exhibit, and Aloisia felt a different kind of darkness threaten to consume her beloved. Lana was a Sith, but while she did use the Dark Side of the Force, she didn’t bathe in its depths like some of the more depraved souls in the Empire. The Dread Masters came to mind as an extreme that Lana was thankfully so very far away from. Aloisia liked to believe that she understood the pull of both the Dark and the Light, and though she tried to walk closer to the latter, she probably followed a path further away from either extreme than any Sith or Jedi would normally encourage.

Lana usually tended ever so slightly more towards the Dark Side, but every now and then, she would truly steep herself in it. Once on Zakuul, she had taken a moment to savor a knight’s death, and Aloisia hadn’t stopped her. As far as she knew at the time, all of Zakuul was an enemy, and she was hopelessly in love with Lana, who had been in the middle of rescuing her.

Now, however, Lana was losing herself. Solas had triggered Lana’s trauma, she knew, but if Lana let that trauma consume her, then she would become something horrible. It was time for Lana’s spirit to heal.

A small nudge from Aloisia was all it took to bring Lana back down to a metaphorical solid ground. Lana’s anguish was tangible, and all of a sudden, Aloisia felt all of her senses return in full as Lana let go quite suddenly of her body. It was almost painful to realize that Lana’s relinquishment and her own subsequent control meant that Lana was truly dead. They weren’t really sharing this body. Lana was a ghost. It didn’t make her any less than she had ever been, but the illusion of separation was so much harder to dispel when it hurt so much.

Only now realizing that her eyes were closed, Aloisia opened them and took in the world around her. It was dark and dank and full of too much red lyrium, but it was real and she was here. “Sorry to keep you all waiting,” she said. “As Lana promised, I’m still here, safe and sound. Or as much as can be said given the circumstances. Let’s find you some armor and a sword and a shield if we can, Cassandra. Then we’ll get moving and find out just what we’re up against.”

“Maker, you truly are still alive!” Cassandra said. “Perhaps we have not been forsaken, after all.”

“Yes, yes. This is all quite wonderful,” Dorian said. “But if I’m not mistaken, your arms and armor are right there in that corner. Entirely in sight, but out of reach. How clever and cruel, these Venatori. And might I say, I am also relieved to have you back, Aloisia.”

“Thank you, Dorian,” she replied. “But let me be clear: Lana Beniko truly is my wife, and should the need arise again before this is over, you are to follow her lead as you would mine. Am I clear?”

“Oh, yes. Perfectly clear. You’re definitely just as bossy as ever, are you aware of that?” Dorian said.

“Very much so,” Aloisia replied with a smile as she crouched down next to Solas, who was still catching his breath. “Are you all right, Solas?” she asked, lacing her voice with concern while keeping her inner thoughts guarded.

“Quite surprised, but no worse for wear, all things considered. At the very least, no more than can be said of anyone in this world. You’ve surely noticed, but we’ve been infected with red lyrium. Cassandra and I were dragged away as subjects of experiments for Alexius’s benefit. To what end, I don’t know. But it has condemned us to a slow and painful death, as it has to so many others. As I said to your wife, this timeline must never come to pass.”

“Indeed, you did say that. I may not have been in control at the time, but I heard you, Solas,” Aloisia said before hardening her gaze and her voice. “I also heard you mention Zakuul and Ziost, and how both of us blamed ourselves for the latter. If you truly saw what happened to Ziost, why would you ever believe you could mention such a thing without triggering immense trauma in either of us?”

Solas looked at the floor, apparently ashamed. “Another foolish mistake on my part. I hadn’t believed it to be real, not truly.”

“Not to be rude, nor to unduly rush things,” Dorian said, “but dare I ask what in the world ‘Ziost’ is?”

“Later, Dorian,” Aloisia said, and she realized that she’d need to have one more confidant with regards to certain details of her true life story. “Before I stopped her onslaught, my wife hurled some nasty accusations at you, Solas. She’s always been suspicious, some would call her paranoid. But as they say, it isn’t paranoia if they really are out to get you. Lana’s suspicions have saved my life and countless others enough that I know better than to discount anything she says.

“If you’re to be believed, the world as we know it is ending. If you’ve been hiding anything Solas, there’s nothing left to lose by keeping it secret. Anything you can tell us, we can use to stop this from happening.” And now, the die had been well and truly cast. Would Solas reveal himself to be on the side of the world, or merely out for himself and his own mysterious ends?

Aloisia could feel Solas’s sadness. “I have made many mistakes, but no good would come of sharing them now.”

“Nor would any harm come from sharing them now,” Aloisia countered. “This isn’t a request, Solas. If you’ve been hiding anything, you will share it with us, and you will do it now.”

Solas looked up at Aloisia, still on his knees, and his eyes held both apology and resolve. “All is not yet lost, if you and Dorian can return and undo this all.”

Dammit, but Lana was right. Solas wouldn’t dare give up his secrets, not when Aloisia could return to the present and put a stop to whatever he had planned. “Cassandra, Dorian, I’m going to have to ask you not to intervene.”

Cassandra approached, again clad in her armor and bearing her sword and shield. “What are we not to intervene in, my lady?”

Aloisia took a deep breath. She would take no pleasure in this, but it had to be done. “You are not to intervene while I finish what Lana started.” Letting her anger at Solas’s betrayal come to the surface, she poured her hatred into the lightning, suffusing it with her pain and suffering and inflicting it onto the already weakened Solas.

“Maker’s breath, Aloisia! What are you doing?!” Dorian cried.

“This man has betrayed us from the very start, and quite possibly even before the Conclave. Right now, he is as vulnerable as he will ever be, and if we return to the present, he will not know what he has revealed. I don’t intend to waste this opportunity to learn what role Solas had in creating the Breach!” she screamed in rage as she let loose another torrent of lightning.

Grabbing his body with the Force, Aloisia tossed Solas left and right, up and down, and spun him around in circles at every which angle in an attempt to disorient him. She would weaken his body to soften up his mind. This was she would do this.

Finally, she slammed Solas into the ground and lifted his head up, extending her right hand. “Now, you will show me what you did to the world. Show me everything!” Aloisia cried as she betrayed her deepest-held ideals and plunged into Solas’s mind with the Force, trying to pry every last secret she could from his rotten, traitorous head.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but Aloisia was shocked all the same at the strength of Solas’s mental barriers. All she could sense was regret and resolve in equal measure, and those were only faint traces. Either elves were far more resilient than most other species in this way, or else Solas was far more than what he appeared to be. Aloisia had already guessed the latter, but this was confirmation.

Aloisia let Solas fall to the ground after her mental onslaught, and he looked up at her with tears in his lavender eyes. “You will not believe me, Aloisia, but I am truly sorry,” he said.

And there was that classic arrogance again. He couldn’t conceive that Aloisia could sense his sorrow, perhaps even stronger than his determination not to yield. “Wrong again, Solas. I do believe you," she said without any scorn.  In truth, the depths of his sorrow had Aloisia feeling almost sad for him.  "And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry as well.”

So saying, Aloisia called her lightsaber to her hand, ignited the blade, and removed Solas’s head from his body. It fell to the ground, entirely bloodless, the wound completely cauterized by a blade of fire.

“What have you done?!” Cassandra cried out. “Why was this necessary?” she all but pleaded.

“I know that a long time has passed for you, Cassandra,” Aloisia said as she turned to look the Seeker in the eye. “But I once told you that I felt a need to know the names and faces of every single member of the Inquisition. What you just witnessed is the reason why I feel that need. As organizations grow, they grow more susceptible to corruption and infiltration. I have been betrayed before, and if it is to happen again, I want to be able to look the traitor in the eye and have them know that I took them under my wing. They will understand that I took the time to know them, and that I protected them in the name of all that I fought for. If they are to betray me, then I want them to know that it is a personal betrayal, and I want them to feel the full weight of their folly.”

“I can’t say I knew the man well,” Dorian said quietly, and Aloisia could sense his fear. “But did he really deserve what you did to him?”

“I doubt that it makes it any better, but the physical torture was just a means to an end,” Aloisia said, her eyes flickering back to Solas’s headless corpse before she turned to face Dorian. “If his focus was on the pain in his body, then it wouldn’t be on my efforts to pry his secrets from his mind. Alas, he was so determined to keep his secrets that he took them to the grave. He could have revealed what he knew, but he was afraid that if we are able to go back in time, we might pose a threat to him if we know his plans.”

Dorian let out a mirthless laugh that was most likely a way to hide his fear. “I’m not sure which is worse: That you’re capable of tearing someone’s secrets out of their mind, or that this man felt that his own secrets were worth protecting even now.” After a sigh, Dorian addressed Cassandra. “Seeker Pentaghast, Solas said that it’s been one year since Alexius threw us into that rift. Does that sound right to you, or was he lying about that as well as whatever other untruths he may have said?”

“No,” Cassandra said sadly, her voice echoing unnaturally. “That was no lie. I want to say that it has been another two or three months past the first year, but it is easy to lose track of time like… Like this,” she said as she gestured to herself.

Aloisia finally took in what Cassandra meant as she beheld the unnatural red mist seeping from her body, as if she was contaminating the world with the Blight simply by existing. “What happened to you, Cassandra? And to Solas, and to whomever else?”

“Red lyrium,” the Seeker said, though her voice held none of the energy or emotion that Aloisia would have expected of the Cassandra from her own time. This woman had been beaten down and broken. “The Magister subjected us and many others to various tests. Some had it force-fed to them. Others were injected with someone else’s blood. Sometimes they used needles to take out our own blood, or else they cut away bits of our flesh. Alexius may serve the Elder One – and I wish I had anything to tell you about him – but his focus has always been on these tests. The other Venatori speak as if they are for the Magister’s benefit alone. I have not been ‘tested’ in some time, but I am kept alive all the same. I do not wish to know what they might yet have planned for me.”

Aloisia hated to know that Cassandra had suffered in this way. Intellectually, she understood that it wasn’t just Cassandra, but the seeker was right here in front of her, and she’d been one of Aloisia’s people. Just as the Alliance had looked to her to lead them, so too did the Inquisition’s fate fall on Aloisia’s shoulders, along with the wellbeing of everyone in it. Apart from all of that, it was one thing that Solas had told the truth about. It was something to keep in mind, in spite of everything else.

“I’m so sorry, Cassandra,” Aloisia said, forcing herself to lock eyes with the seeker despite that her own were watering. “You were depending on me, all of you. I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I am here now, and I swear to you that I will do everything in my power to make this right. Force-willing, I will be able to go back in time and tell a healthy and hale Cassandra Pentaghast exactly what it is that’s at stake, and neither she nor you will ever know this suffering.”

“My lady…” Cassandra gasped. “You cannot blame yourself for not being present to act. But that you are even here at all now, it gives me hope. My sword and my shield are yours, Lady Blade.”

Cassandra’s voice was full of nothing but pure reverence. It was something that Aloisia had been entirely unfamiliar with while on the Dark Council and while leading the Alliance. She had been a leader before, and even a savior, but it had always been secular. And the title she had borne ever since the Conclave… The only other recently-living being she knew to have been deified to such an extent was the Emperor himself. Even in his absence and apparent death, the Emperor's true followers still looked to his example for guidance. Aloisia would have to take great care that her own example would be a worthier one.

Nodding in silent affirmation, Aloisia turned to face the door. “All right, then. Let’s keep moving. If there are any others being kept alive for experimentation, then hopefully they’ve also been kept as relatively well-fed as you seem to be. Not to dismiss your suffering, but you seem able to hold your sword and shield well enough. They must have needed you in good health to perform their tests, and that may serve us well in finding potential allies. Let’s go.”

“As you say, Your Worship,” Dorian said sarcastically. “But I want to be clear that when we return to our own time – if we are able to, mind you – then I am going to insist on a lengthy talk about every little thing that has happened here that is currently beyond my understanding. I thought I knew what the Inquisition and the Blade of the Maker were all about, and whether or not I was wrong, I should very much like to know every detail so that I may determine whether you truly are Thedas’s best hope or else its worst nightmare. I like to think I’ve earned at least that much of an explanation from you, Aloisia.”

“You have, Dorian, I promise you,” Aloisia said with a sigh. “It will be a private conversation, mind you, for some of it is so far beyond most people’s understanding that it would sound like madness or heresy. Thankfully, for all of its faults, the Tevinter Imperium seems to be the most academically-minded nation in Thedas, and I hope that you’ve been given an education that leaves you open to unusual possibilities.”

“My lady!” Cassandra protested. “You cannot mean to-“

“I will do what I must, Cassandra,” Aloisia said in a low voice that brooked no argument. “And now, we really ought to keep moving. We don’t know how much time we have to spare, and I meant no humor with that remark, Dorian.”

Thankfully, silence fell as Aloisia took the lead back up the staircase and across a suspended grate over what had to be the castle’s sewer system over to another door leading downward to an identical, parallel corridor. One of the doors was blocked, and Aloisia could sense no life on the other side. Behind the other door, she could feel a very faint sense of someone not so much clinging to life as they were pinned into living against their will. More than that was a sense of deep corruption that could only mean a lot of red lyrium.

Opening the door, Aloisia saw four cells in front of her, two on either side of the room. Three of them were empty, but the last was filled nearly entirely with red lyrium, and out of the corrupt crystals was the upper torso and head of…

“Grand Enchanter Fiona? What have they done to you?!” Aloisia cried.

The erstwhile leader of Redcliffe’s mages could only look at them with surprise blunted by pain. “You’re… Alive?” she gasped, her voice echoing even more than Cassandra’s did. “How? I saw you disappear into the rift,” she said between pained breaths.

“Never mind about me,” Aloisia said as she hurried to the bars of the cell. “What’s happened to you? It looks like red lyrium is growing out of you, of all things!”

“It’s a disease,” Fiona said. “The longer you’re near it… Eventually, you become this. Then they mine your corpse for more.”

Aloisia’s mind reeled at the implications. Lyrium was just another word for kyber or Adegan crystals or any number of names for the living crystalline incarnation of the Force itself. She had known on some level that the Blight was a plague of a kind to that which Karness Muur unleashed with his rakghouls in ages past, but this wasn’t just affecting animal life. To infect a manifestation of the Force itself was thoroughly disturbing in a way she hadn't felt in quite a while. Aloisia suddenly wanted to have a long talk with Dorian about time travel, if only so that she could try to go back in time to Kirkwall and tell the Tethras brothers not to venture in the Deep Roads just for a bit of material profit.

Thankfully, Dorian was still focused on the immediate situation rather than hypothetical scenarios. “Can you tell us the date?” he asked of Fiona. “It’s very important.”

“Harvestmere,” Fiona sobbed. “Nine forty-two, Dragon.”

Aloisia and Lana had crashed on this planet around the turn of the year from 9:40 into 9:41. Six months passed from then until the Conclave, and the Inquisition had been slowly building itself up for another two months, give or take a few weeks. If she remembered the Thedosian calendar right… “We’ve been gone for fourteen months!”

“You must beware,” Fiona pleaded. “Alexius serves the Elder One. More powerful than… Than the Maker! No one challenges him and lives.”

As much as Aloisia wanted to offer comfort to the ailing Fiona, she couldn’t help herself from groaning and clutching her head with one hand. “Another so-called ‘god.’ Just what I needed to hear.” Hopefully he wouldn’t be as powerful or as cunning as the Sith Emperor had been, but all the same, if this Elder One made a claim to godhood that people like Fiona could believe, then he was not someone to trifle with lightly.

“What do you mean, ‘another’ god?” Dorian said, before shaking his head. “Never mind. A tale for later. Right now, we need to find Alexius, or more specifically, the amulet he used to send us here. If it still exists, I can use it to send us back to the exact time and place we came from. Maybe.”

“Please, you must try!” Fiona said before heaving a dry breath. “Your spymaster, Leliana… She is here along with… Along with, King Alistair. Find them. Protect them. Protect my…”

Whatever Fiona was about to say was cut off as she gasped for breath. It had clearly taken a great deal of energy to speak at all, and as much as Aloisia needed to know all that Fiona did, she couldn’t in good conscience ask anything more of her. “Thank you for all you’ve shared, Fiona. What we’ve learned from you may save countless lives, may stop all of this from happening. Before we go, there is one last thing.”

Reaching for her lightsaber hilt, Aloisia ignited the flaming blade and held it upright at her side. “The Chant of Light teaches that the blade of fire was not a weapon of malice or revenge or war. It was an instrument of mercy. I don’t care if your faith has been shaken or broken, Fiona. You are in agony, and if you ask it of me, I can grant you that mercy.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “Death would indeed be a kindness. Death by your Blade of Mercy… It would truly be a blessing. ‘The light shall lead her safely through the paths of this world and into the next,’” Fiona recited, the words familiar to Aloisia as she had just minutes ago heard Cassandra chanting them. “’For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.’”

Aloisia didn’t believe in the Maker, but that wasn’t important right now as she moved her lightsaber’s blade to hover just above Fiona’s neck. "Fiona, Grand Enchanter of the Mages of Thedas, your prayers have been heard. May you walk at the Maker’s side and know peace for all of eternity.” So saying, Aloisia brought her blade down as swiftly and as smoothly as she could. Fiona’s emotions, just moments ago in turmoil, were suddenly as still and as calm as a pond untouched by rain, and then they were gone. At least she had found a moment of peace before the end.

“Did you mean that, just now?” Dorian asked. “Do you really believe that you were answering her prayers?”

Aloisia shook her head as she disengaged her blade and clipped it back to her belt. “I said what I could to give a good woman a measure of peace instead of the torment she’d been enduring for months, if not longer. I don’t presume to know the Maker’s will, let alone which prayers are even heard, if he hears them at all. If I’ve blasphemed, then I’ll gladly pay the consequences later. But if Fiona knew a moment of anything other than torment and pain at the end, then it was worth it.”

Aloisia turned around to head back the way she came, but she noticed Dorian looking at her strangely. “Is something the matter, Dorian?”

“No, not exactly,” he said. “I’m just pondering what kind of woman you really are. Not that long ago, you tortured a man for information without a second thought. And yet, you just now went out of your way to show as much compassion as possible. I’m rather torn, wondering which side of you is the real one.”

“All of it is real,” the Blade answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her self-confidence might have caught Dorian off-guard if he hadn’t already suffered several major blows to his worldview in the past few hours alone. “For example, a ruler shows mercy to their subjects while sparing none for their enemies. The ruler is still the same person, but they approach each situation as needs be on its own merits. And now, let us move out of this room. If Fiona is right, then we should not stay close to any amount of red lyrium if it can be helped.”

“And is that how you see yourself?” Dorian asked as he followed her out of the dungeon. The more he saw of Aloisia Kallig behind the cheerful façade she’d worn up until now, the more he found himself positively terrified. “I know that the Inquisition has done some good work, and you are definitely in charge of the group. But do you truly see yourself as a queen or an empress or an archon?”

“Not in Thedas,” she answered. “Not at all for a matter of time, now.” As the Blade of the Maker turned to face him, Dorian almost flinched from her gaze. He had never thought of himself as a coward, but while the magisters back home might posture with smiles that hid knives and poison, Aloisia made no attempt to hide her ferocity, which came just as readily to her in battle as in rhetoric.

When he finally looked her in the eyes, he saw no hostility there. No, Aloisia’s green eyes held something he’d seen in his own reflection many times. She was homesick, just as he was. It likely wasn’t the same, for the home that Dorian yearned to see both was and wasn’t the Tevinter Imperium of today. That being said, despite the sheer boldness of the woman before him, the kindness that he’d feared was only a mask was once again as clear as day to behold.

“You demanded answers should we safely return, Dorian,” she said softly. “And given what you’ve been through – what you are going through – it is an entirely reasonable thing that you have earned. I cannot guarantee that I will tell you my entire story, but I will tell you enough to sate your curiosity. Cassandra can testify, however, that you may not believe what you hear.”

“The Blade does not lie,” Seeker Pentaghast said. Maker, but how she must have suffered so. What had Alexius done to her with his experiments? Dorian didn’t know nearly as much as he wanted to about red lyrium, but he knew enough to stay far away from it. “I did not believe her stories. In truth, I still do not know what to believe. What I do know to be true is that she is here to help us all. My experiences tell me that much, and so does my faith.”

Cassandra Pentaghast was entirely the opposite of every other member of her family that Dorian had ever had the displeasure to know, at least as far as his limited interactions with her could tell him. That comparison alone gave her words a great deal more weight than they would have carried without such context, and it put his mind just a little bit at ease. “While you are both generous with your reassurances, I think it would be best if I put my pride and my anxieties a bit further back in my list of priorities for the time being. We still need to find your spymaster and the king of Ferelden. It wouldn’t sit right with me to deny Fiona’s last wish.”

Aloisia chuckled with what might have been genuine mirth. “Glad to see you’ve finally got your head back in the game, Pavus,” she said as she shot him a smile. “And you’re right. Leliana will have taken every opportunity to learn everything she can. And if what I’ve learned is true, then Alistair Theirin is no slouch in battle. Or at least, he wasn’t during the Blight a decade ago. Regardless, even if neither of them can fight, information is just as deadly a weapon as a blade when wielded properly. If we can return to the past with knowledge of events yet to come… Well, forewarned is forearmed, as they say.”

Dorian couldn’t hold in the bark of laughter that followed. “My friend, you take ‘thinking ahead’ to new heights. But let’s get out of these foul dungeons, shall we? If nothing else, the stench of the sewers is something I could do without.”

“There are far worse things that you could have endured, Tevinter,” Seeker Pentaghast said through a scowl. He supposed he couldn’t blame her for using his nationality as an insult after what his countrymen had done to her. “Some such things you may still endure if we do not remain on guard.”

“Indeed, you’re right, Cassandra,” Aloisia said. “I’ll take point, you guard our backs. Dorian, be ready to assist either of us as the need arises, but give your priority to Cassandra. I have more fight in me, most likely.”

Dorian was about to object, but the seeker caught his gaze and shook her head before giving him a look that told him that she understood his concerns. And Dorian was very concerned. If Aloisia died, regardless of where or when, then all hope for closing the Breach would die with her. More than that, Aloisia needed to survive in order to get back to their proper time, and while Cassandra Pentaghast was a stalwart ally, she could not follow them to a time where she did not belong.

As disgusting as it made him feel to even consider it, Dorian realized the Cassandra was more expendable than either of them. Aloisia was needed to stop the Breach, and she’d need Dorian’s knowledge to get them back to their own time. If this were a game of chess, Aloisia would be prioritizing a pawn over her queen, and quite possibly even her king.

But Seeker Pentaghast isn’t a pawn, you dimwit, Dorian admonished himself. And Aloisia doesn’t see either of you as pieces on a game board. She sees lives. She sees people. If she truly were the ruler of a great nation, she wouldn't see subjects to be lorded over, but to be protected and well-kept. She’s the kind of person you think of when you imagine a better Imperium, Pavus. Is it any wonder you follow her so readily and fear her just as quickly?

Dorian felt his breath hitch for just a moment. That analogy had come far too quickly and readily for his liking, but all the same it made him wonder. Just who was Aloisia Kallig? She certainly didn’t act like a former slave. Then again, Andraste herself had once been a slave herself. And, oh dear, he really was drawing that comparison that he’d sworn he wouldn’t be sucked into. Dorian had heard the stories and he hadn’t believed them. Reality was like a plunge into a freezing lake, he realized.

After ascending a few more flights of stairs, the passageway they were in didn’t widen, but it did level off, and it began to seem like they were actually in Redcliffe Castle rather than beneath it. They were about to round a corner when Aloisia held up her right palm behind her, ordering him and Cassandra to stop moving. Putting a finger to her lips, Aloisia took a step back and waited with one hand extended just in front of her.

Seconds later, Dorian heard the unmistakable clanking of steel armor coming closer. Were his ears suddenly unhealthy, or was Aloisia’s hearing just that keen? Dorian readied his staff, and Cassandra quietly drew her sword and shield, but Aloisia did not make a move to ready the hilt of her fire-sword. No, what was the term Miss Beniko had used? A ‘lightsaber,’ was it? Dorian would have to ask at a better time. Maybe he was obsessing over a minor detail, but somehow he doubted that Aloisia would find it as such. Nor would her wife, I imagine. And Beniko alone is scary enough when she is truly angry. Let’s try not to cause her wife any undue stress, shall we?

Aloisia waved her left hand behind her as if she was shooing something away, and Dorian felt a tug on the hand holding his staff. A quick glance at Seeker Pentaghast told him that she had felt something similar. Was Aloisia trying to tell them to stay their arms?

Dorian didn’t like surrendering control of his life to anyone, but if he had to trust his life to someone else… Well, he’d met very few people who were worthy of such trust, but Aloisia Kallig just might be one of them. He lowered his staff, but he did not put it away.

The clanking got louder, and just as the armored guard rounded the corner, Dorian expected him to either reach for his weapon or else to call for reinforcements. He did neither of these things, but lifted a few centimeters off the ground before hovering closer to them before moving off to the side and being set down upon the ground. It wasn’t entirely silent, but it was as quiet as it could be given his full plate armor.

“There,” Aloisia said, and Dorian noticed her lowering her hand. “One less guard to worry about, and no alarms. Someone will miss him eventually, but hopefully we’ll deal with them before they expect him to report back.”

And now it clicked. Just as she had tossed Solas’s body to and fro, so too had she moved this guard’s body and quite possibly killed him with her magic. And that was only possible with… “Oh. Oh, I see. Nobody saw fit to inform me that the Blade of the Maker was a blood mage. I suppose it wouldn’t fit with the whole savior narrative, would it?” The Tevinter definition of blood magic – at least insofar as what was permissible in civilized society – was quite different from that of southern Thedas. All the same, Dorian had a distinct distaste for it. Quite the lesson his father had imparted on him, if not in the manner he had imagined to teach it.

Dorian hadn’t been sure what Aloisia’s response would be, but he certainly hadn’t expected a groan of pure, unadulterated annoyance of all things. “Really, Dorian? I expected more from you. Even with a Tevinter education, you Thedosians are all so… Never mind. If it makes you feel better, it isn’t blood magic. It’s just telekinesis that happens to be used on a human body. Does that put your mind at ease, I hope?”

It really didn’t put Dorian’s mind anywhere near at ease, for his mind was no longer on magic at all, be it blood magic or any other sort of arcane craft. No, Dorian was dealing with the implications of hearing the Blade of the Maker refer to… Well, it sounded like she was referring to people on the whole as ‘you Thedosians,’ the implication being that Aloisia Kallig did not fall into said category herself. And if she wasn’t from Thedas…

“I told you, Dorian, you’ll get the story later, if we have a later,” she interrupted him, almost as if hearing his thoughts. “My origins don’t change the state of the world. Focus, Pavus! I need your thoughts to be on getting back to our present and on nothing else, understood? The more you focus on all of your questions, the more distracted I become, and the less of a chance we have of making it back. Am. I. Clear?”

Now, if that wasn’t a threat, he didn’t know what was. “You’re clear, I assure you, though you do make it dreadfully difficult to do as you say. You know that, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes. I do, believe me,” Aloisia said with a groan. “It’s very upsetting.”

“If the two of you are quite finished,” Seeker Pentaghast said, the reverberation in her voice causing her annoyance to sound quite harsher than normal, “I did not expect to be freed from a year of imprisonment only to listen to the two of you bicker like children. It is as both of you have already said. We have far more important things to worry about.”

Well, now this was just embarrassing. After rescuing a literal Nevarran princess, Dorian had put himself in a position for said princess to scold him about the quality of her rescue. And of course, she just had to be entirely right about it. “Yes, you’re quite right, seeker. My most sincere apologies. Please lead on, Aloisia.”

“Gladly,” she practically hissed. “Let’s keep ourselves quiet and take their patrols by surprise if we can so that they don’t have the chance to raise an alarm.”

Dorian was about to protest that neither magic nor clashing steel were known for their silence, but it could be that the Blade of the Maker was planning to use her own not-blood magic to kill any opposition they encountered just as she did the lone guard who wandered into her waiting trap, and for Dorian and Seeker Pentaghast to be there in case the stealthy approach failed.

This approach that the Blade was taking - not the path of stealth, but her overall approach to this life-threatening situation in general - said quite a lot about the woman herself, Dorian realized. She gave orders like a general, she led from the front like a mercenary captain, and she subjected herself to the greatest danger like the most expendable foot soldier. It is such a terrible pity that she is not a man, otherwise I quite think I would have liked to ravish her.

Aloisia led them to a fork in the corridor, and she led them down the right-hand path. “Many enemies down this way,” she whispered. “A barracks, maybe. Take as many out as we can before they’re aware of us, but be ready to abandon stealth for a time if needed.”

Dorian only nodded silently in affirmation as he considered the events that had brought him to this place and time, where he was forced to act as if he was a soldier. Dorian knew how to cast offensive magic, but it had been almost entirely as a means of self-defense should one of his father’s enemies in the Magisterium try to harm Dorian and use him as leverage. Going out of his way to kill people – no matter how horrible they might be – made him feel rather ill. What was all the worse was that he knew he’d have to develop a stomach for it if these Venatori truly were behind the Breach, along with whatever other horrors that might come to pass if given another year to act unopposed.

As they approached a door at the end of the hall, Aloisia held up her left hand in a fist. Seeker Pentaghast immediately came to a halt, so Dorian followed suit. Perhaps it was some sort of military sign language? Whatever the case, Aloisia took the hilt of her lightsaber from her belt in her right hand, and then she opened the door as slowly and as quietly as he imagined she could.

Any element of surprise was lost when Dorian heard a muffled voice from behind the door shout something he couldn’t understand, but it was most definitely a sound of alarm. Aloisia burst through the door, and Dorian followed with Seeker Pentaghast bringing up the rear. Once inside the barracks, the three of them spread out to fight the off-duty guards, who numbered somewhere between half and a full dozen.

Dorian let lose barrages of electric bolts from his staff after casting a protective barrier over himself. Aloisia had shrouded herself in a spherical barrier that looked to be made of violet-colored lightning, and Cassandra had her own physical shield to protect her. Whatever the case, Dorian must not have seemed to be nearly as threatening as either of the two women, as the brunt of the assault came down upon Aloisia while the seeker drew the attention of a few of them onto herself.

While the soldiers converged on the others, Dorian focused on the spellbinder lurking in the corner, bolstering his allies while trying to remain unnoticed. At first, Dorian found himself facing an opponent of equal skill, and one with possibly more raw power than Dorian himself. As precious seconds passed, Aloisia and Cassandra dispatched some of their enemies, and Dorian now had new weapons at his disposal.

For every mad demon that had ever been pulled through the Veil into the physical world, there were immeasurable harmless wisps that seldom did much harm, or indeed much of anything at all. But they were remarkably useful for Dorian’s necromantic spells. Very suddenly, Dorian had turned the corpses of his foes into blunt-yet-effective temporary allies. They quickly rushed and overwhelmed the enemy spellbinder as Dorian gave the corpses a protective barrier.

The animated dead endured the spellbinder’s counterattack, and as he fell, so too did his protective magic cease to aid his other allies. A flash of orange light was all that Dorian saw, but he understood that Aloisia had cut a swath through the enemies surrounding her, ending their threat.

“Ugh. That was entirely unpleasant,” she said, putting her left hand to her forehead as she disengaged her weapon. “I felt something pressing at my mind. That should have been over far more quickly than it was, but damned if I could barely concentrate.”

Dorian winced at the implications. “Most likely, it was their spellbinder using some sort of magic to cloud your mind, or else to simply cause you pain and keep you distracted. It might or might not have been blood magic. Depending on what, exactly, he may have done to you, you should be fine in short measure now that the onslaught has ended.”

“It probably was blood magic,” Seeker Pentaghast said. “That, or else Tevinter has no issue with teaching far more dangerous magic than any proper Circle would allow.”

Dorian was about to launch into yet another defense of his homeland before a look from Aloisia silenced him. “We don’t have time to argue. What matters is that the enemy has such tactics at their disposal. We didn’t know before, and now we do. Whichever of you stopped that mental onslaught, you have my thanks. Be on the lookout for enemy mages and prioritize them before any mundane opponents. But first, let’s look around and see if there’s anything of note lying around. A barracks like this might have information on what’s going on outside. Take a look, people.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dorian said with a mock salute before falling in line and doing as he was told. Normally, Dorian wasn’t one to follow orders at all, but it was harder to follow that trend when the orders were both reasonable and given by a very scary woman.

“Here,” Seeker Pentaghast said as she knelt beside the corpse of one of their recent enemies. “A ring of keys. This could be useful.”

“I should hope so,” Aloisia said. “You hold onto it, Cassandra. No offense to anyone, but if that keyring has been here for so long near so much red lyrium, I don’t want Dorian or myself to carry the contagion back with us should we manage to return to the present.”

“I understand,” the Seeker said. “I will guard it with care.”

Dorian just nodded silently as he approached a small table with a few plates with what looked to be unfinished meals. They must have caught the guards while they were eating. Just next to one of the plates was a book bound in red leather, the front of it inscribed with a circle that was itself inlaid with intricate curving lines, but Dorian couldn’t decipher the design for the life of him.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the book to see what it contained. The first page held a prayer to, presumably, the Elder One. “Aloisia,” he said. “Take a look at this.”

The Blade of the Maker walked over and nudged Dorian to the side as she read the prayer aloud. “'Praise His name, who has risen from the Darkness. Praise His name, who has striven for the Light. Praise His name, who has walked the Golden City. Praise His name. The Old Gods are no more. The Maker never was. The New God is among us. Praise His name. Praise His Holy Majesty. Praise Corypheus.’”

Dorian didn’t recognize the name, but judging from Aloisia’s expression, it did mean something to her. “Well, shit,” she said quietly. “This is not good at all.”

“Why?” Dorian asked. “Do you know who or what this ‘Corypheus’ might be?”

Seeker Pentaghast provided an unexpected answer. “That. Fucking. Dwarf!”

Chapter Text

Cassandra’s exclamation of disgust confused Aloisia for a moment. According to Varric, Corypheus had been a sort of human-darkspawn hybrid. More than that, he had supposedly been a mage, and dwarves were incapable of magic. So what was she…? Oh. Oh, of course. She thinks Varric was messing with her all this time. How amazing is it that after a year of torment in this hellish timeline, ‘that fucking dwarf’ is still such a defining person in her mind's eye.

“Cassandra,” she warned the seeker, “take it easy. Let’s remain calm and focus on the mission. Nothing has changed, save that we now know the name of our enemy. More than that, actually: we have some idea as to what he’s capable of.”

“My lady!” Cassandra protested loudly. “Surely, you cannot believe Varric’s absurd stories?! If you believe him, then this ‘Corypheus’ should be dead, so how can he be the Venatori’s Elder One?”

“Need I remind you of my own worst enemy?” Aloisia shot back, very much disliking the implication that she might be in opposition to a being supposedly about as old as her former Emperor. And if this Elder One was still alive despite what Varric claimed to have witnessed, then that meant that death was just as meaningless to Corypheus as it was for… No. Don’t go there. He’s gone for good this time. You made sure of it, and you didn’t do it alone. He’s finally dead, so you don’t have to worry about him, Aloisia. Focus on the here and now.

“Sorry,” she said, unprompted, to her companions. “Bad memories. And before you ask, Dorian, this is something else I will tell you about, at least in part, when we get back. If we get back.” Aloisia could very well guess as to how most Thedosians would feel when told that the Chantry’s tale of the Golden City’s corruption could be literally true. For someone like Dorian, however, the villains of the tale were the rulers of his homeland at the height of its glory. Aloisia knew that Dorian wanted to reform his homeland, but how would he react to knowing just how deep and far back the corruption of the Tevinter Imperium truly went?

Aloisia could feel Dorian’s burning curiosity, but he thankfully kept his thoughts to himself. Cassandra, on the other hand, was a raging tempest of conflicting emotions. Turning to face her, Aloisia folded her arms across her chest in a way that Cassandra would hopefully recognize. “I understand that you’re frustrated, Seeker Cassandra, but right now, we have a mission to complete. I need you focused on the task at hand. Am I clear, soldier?”

Being addressed as such seemed to give the seeker a moment of pause, but it proved to be just what Cassandra needed to calm herself as she took a deep breath. “Yes, my lady. You are clear. Let us be about it, then.”

“Shall we bring this… This prayer book, I suppose? Should we bring it with us back to our own time, do you think?” Dorian asked.

Aloisia shook her head. “No, we aren’t bringing anything back if we can help it, save for the knowledge that we can remember. Everything here reeks of corruption. Aside from wanting to avoid contaminating ourselves, I don’t want anything getting in the way of your magic as you try to get us back to our own time.”

“You know, you have a nasty habit of making good points that I should have already thought of,” Dorian said. “It’s quite embarrassing, really.”

“Hush now, Dorian,” Aloisia said, hiding a small smile. “We’re moving out. Same formation as before, but be prepared to switch places with me, Cassandra. My lightsaber might be a skeleton key, but there might be alarms that trigger if someone tries to bypass the standard locking mechanism, so we’ll be relying on you and those keys you found. Any questions?”

Silence and shaking heads greeted her, so Aloisia led them out of the barracks and down the hall back the way they came. They passed the earlier intersection where the dead guard still laid dead on the floor, and they pressed on past him, up another flight of stairs and around another corner, then down yet another hallway.

As they walked forward slowly, keeping their footsteps light, Aloisia could sense people in agony behind the doors they started to pass. Loud and angry voices – most likely Venatori – were either torturing people into renouncing the Maker, or else they were yelling at them to lie still. Aloisia guessed that the latter category were for the benefit of Alexius’s experiments.  Other possibilities were not something she wanted to entertain, not ever.

A tap on her shoulder caused Aloisia to turn around and face Cassandra, who had her sword out and gestured towards a door that a woman’s screams could be hard from on the other side. As much as it pained her, Aloisia shook her head in refusal of Cassandra’s request. No matter what they did here, anyone native to this timeline was either damned by the Venatori or damned by their own evil deeds. They needed to conserve their strength for any resistance they should meet if stealth failed them. It was cruel and entirely unfair, just like so many other choices that Aloisia had learned to live with over the years.

As they approached a corner bending to the right, Aloisia heard the unmistakable sound of someone being slapped across the face, followed by a grunt of pain. The grunt sounded vaguely familiar, and as Aloisia opened herself up to the Force… Oh, Leliana. What have they done to you?!

This was different from the other doors they had passed. Not only was Leliana her closest advisor in the Inquisition, but she was exactly the kind of person who would take her own capture as an opportunity to learn more about the enemy and their plans. It was just like when Theron Shan had been captured on Rishi, although memories of those days also brought to mind the unpleasant truth that Lana had engineered Theron’s capture in the hope that he would be able to escape with valuable intelligence. She’d been right in her gamble, but Theron’s anger had been entirely understandable.

Right now, however, Leliana was in need of rescue, and not just for her own sake. Motioning silently to Dorian and Cassandra, Aloisia had them ready their weapons as they stalked closer to the door. As they approached, Aloisia could make out bits of the interrogation as it unfolded.

“Tell me how Kallig knew of the sacrifice at the temple!” a man demanded loudly.

“Never!” was Leliana’s immediate reply, followed by another smack across her face. Privately, Aloisia smirked as an unexpected bit of relief washed over her. If the Venatori were still asking such a basic question about how things started well over a year before this day in this particular future, then Leliana must have either just recently been captured after a long while on the run, or else the Venatori interrogators were truly inept at extracting information.  One of those, or else Leliana simply possessed a rare and special sort of endurance that she should never be forced to draw upon.

Any one of those would be a sign for hope, as either a sign of Leliana’s strength or else a sign of the enemy’s weakness. Another slap and another grunt of pain brought Aloisia’s mind back to the present. “Talk!” the interrogator screamed, clearly not in control of the situation. “The Elder One demands answers!”

The cold and bitter laughter that answered him was like a calming lullaby to Aloisia’s ears. “He’ll get used to disappointment,” Leliana taunted from behind the door.

Not wanting this to go on any longer, Aloisia motioned to the keys that Cassandra held and then to the lock. Cassandra moved to unlock the door, groaning quietly as she went through a few keys that didn’t match the lock, before finally finding the right key. She turned it slowly, and soon enough, they were moving through the door, the three of them crouched low to the ground.

The torturer wore the same sort of metal mask that some of the guards had worn in the throne room back in Aloisia’s present. Leliana, to Aloisia’s horror, was hanging from the ceiling, her wrists bound in chains. And yet, she was still in her typical chainmail and armored boots. The Venatori were displaying clear signs of arrogance. They had left a staff within reach of Solas’s cell, and Cassandra’s own arms and armor within reach of her own prison. This was good to know, but Aloisia made a note not to underestimate them in spite of the carelessness she was witnessing.

The torturer brought a knife to Leliana’s throat, and only now did Aloisia see the superficial side effects of the corruption she had sensed in her spymaster’s body. Leliana’s skin was mottled and flaking, but her eyes had lost none of their hard resolve. It was almost amusing to watch as the torturer hissed at her, “You will break!”

“I will die first,” Leliana protested, but then her eyes looked over the torturer’s shoulders and met Aloisia’s gaze. Smiling at her spymaster, Aloisia brought a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture as she made ready to burn a hole through the man. A glint in Leliana’s eyes, however, gave her pause, and Aloisia could sense the burning need that Leliana felt to finish this herself.

Aloisia gave a silent nod of approval, and Leliana smiled a thin, dark grin. The torturer finally noticed where his victim’s gaze was at, and as he turned to face Aloisia and her companions, Leliana wrapped her legs – still armored and strangely unbound – around the torturer’s neck. “Or you will,” she snarled as she squeezed the life out of him with nothing but her thighs.

Something changed deep inside Aloisia at that moment, and she was only barely aware of the core of her being taking a keen new interest at her spymaster in a way she hadn’t expected and hadn’t even fully realized. At the moment, Aloisia Kallig’s thoughts were quite narrow in scope, and not at all appropriate for the situation. It was not joy at the self-rescue of a valued companion that she felt, nor was it a sense of victory at gaining a new ally and source of intelligence.

Leliana… You are positively marvelous! You look like you’ve been through hell, you’re hanging by your arms, and you are still defiant enough to not only talk back, but to strike back with nothing but your considerable lower body muscles… What I wouldn't give to feel those legs at full strength wrapped around me like that!

The moment passed, and as it did, Aloisia felt a rapidly growing sense of dread that had nothing to do with her mission. Inappropriate for the moment her feelings might be, Aloisia couldn’t deny them. Oh, no. Those thoughts were so… They weren’t about Lana. I was entirely focused on another woman who is not my wife, who is not the woman I love with all my heart. And to even think about sex at all with a woman who was just being tortured moments ago… Force, what is wrong with me?!

And Lana knew what she had been thinking. Maybe not the exact thought processes, but Aloisia’s body and emotions had definitely reacted, and Lana would need to have had every one of her senses stripped away not to notice. She hadn’t said a word, but whether it was out of a desire not to distract Aloisia or because of a need to sort out her own emotions, Aloisia could not tell.

“I’m so sorry, Lana. I don’t know what’s happening with me. I swear that we’ll talk about this thoroughly and honestly when we’re back to relative safety.”

“I know, my love,” Lana replied, though her presence ached so greatly with sadness.

Aloisia knew that she was emotionally compromised, and she knew that she was dangerously close to being unfaithful to the woman who had done more for her than any one person could ever be expected to do in a single lifetime, ever. Despite all of that, when Aloisia beheld Leliana’s head slumped in fatigue, all sense left her as she practically dove for the torturer’s keyring, ignoring her own advice about not touching anything in this time period.

“You’re alive,” Leliana gasped out as Aloisia undid her shackles.

“We never died,” Aloisia said, hoping to get straight to the point. “Alexius’s spell didn’t kill us, and we’ve mostly avoided death entirely. He most certainly made a mistake.” That wasn’t a lie, exactly. They had managed to avoid dying, mostly.

Leliana was already on her feet again, looking none the worse for wear save for the corruption visible in her skin, though Aloisia could feel it eating away at her from within. “Then it will be the last mistake he will ever make,” the Nightingale said. “Do you have weapons?” she asked as she moved to fetch a bow and a quiver of arrows from the corner. Had they belonged to the torturer, Aloisia wondered, or had they left yet another prisoner’s weapon within plain sight of its owner?

“That we do, Leliana,” Aloisia said, only realizing her error a moment too late. It’s ‘Sister Leliana,’ you besotted child! Get a hold of yourself!

“Good,” was the curt answer as Sister Leliana strapped her quiver to her back and slung her bow over her shoulder. “The magister’s probably in his chambers.”

Cassandra looked silently at her old companion – her fellow Hand of Divine Justinia – and Aloisia could feel her mourning for all the suffering that Leliana had clearly endured.

Dorian, for all his intellect, was slightly less tactful. “You aren’t curious about how we got here?”

“No,” Leliana replied quietly and without hesitation. Of course, Dorian the academic who hadn’t lived through this hellish future – and who probably wasn’t trained to sense emotions with the Force – was focused on the technical aspects of all of this.

“Alexius sent us into the future,” Dorian explained, despite that said explanation had already been dismissed as unwanted. All of this, his victory, his Elder One. It was never meant to be.”

“Shut up, Dorian,” Aloisia hissed. “Sister Nightingale,” she said in an attempt to restore a modicum of professionalism, “what matters now is how we stop this. We need access to an amulet – most likely in Alexius’s possession – to send us back and prevent this madness from coming to pass.”

Leliana’s bitterness had been simmering beneath the surface throughout her torture, but now it was free of constant pain to prevent it from rising and threatening to burst. “And mages always wonder why people fear them,” she spat. “No one should have this power.”

“It’s dangerous and unpredictable,” Dorian said, and Aloisia had to resist the urge to choke him with the Force to shut him up. “Before the Breach nothing we did-“

“Enough,” Leliana said, the one word a definite threat as she took a single step forward towards Dorian. “This is all pretend to you. Some future you hope will never exist. I suffered. The whole world suffered. It was real.”

“Not ‘was,’” Aloisia cut in. “For now, it very much is real. Shut off your brain for a moment, Pavus, and turn on your heart, all right?” At the risk of tumbling down a road with no way back, Aloisia took a step closer to her spymaster and made to reach out a hand before catching herself and putting it back down. “I know you’ve suffered. I can feel it screaming out in every cell in your body. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you, to have endured all of this this, but here, in this moment, you are real. Your suffering is real. This world, and everything that brought it about… All of it is real. Maybe it shouldn’t have been, maybe we can stop it. But until that happens, if it does, happen at all, then it’s as real as you or I.”

Leliana’s blue eyes caught a hold of Aloisia’s gaze, and she found herself unable to look away. Despite that Leliana’s face might be crumbled and withered, her blue gaze was as keen as ever. And for just a moment, those eyes softened ever so slightly as the corner of Leliana's lips tilted just a little bit upward. “I confess that I doubted. In my darkest moments, when no one could see or hear me, I doubted everything. The Maker, the Chant, any hope for the world at all. But seeing you here, right now in front of me… I don’t doubt at all anymore. The Maker has not forsaken us after all.”

Why did Aloisia feel heat rising in her cheeks? Cassandra also spoke of her faith in deeply personal terms to her, and it didn’t make Aloisia feel this way. “I can’t speak for the Maker,” she said. “But I promise you that I will never abandon you.”

As their mutual held gaze continued, time slowed, and Aloisia realized that her earlier, lustful thoughts were quickly spiraling into something far more dangerous than infatuation. Was it because Lana had been without a body for months now? Was it because she was confiding so much in Leliana alone? Did any of that justify this blatant betrayal of the woman whose spirit she had bound to herself in the hopes of remaining together for eternity?

Aloisia broke eye contact with Leliana and turned to face Dorian and Cassandra again. “I will never abandon any of you. Every single soul in the Inquisition is under my protection, and I owe it to everyone – in this time, this place, and in every other time and place – to do everything in my power to never allow anyone else to suffer as you have,” she said, looking back and forth between Leliana and Cassandra.

“And lest I forget,” Aloisia said, her attention returning to the mission in front of them. “If anyone has any messages for their past selves… Anything that you might have observed or learned in this year of hell, speak your mind about it, and I will be sure to tell you everything when I get back to… Well, back to before all of this ever happened, if we can manage it.”

As she spoke, she folded her arms in front of her, looked at Leliana, and tapped the fingers of her right hand against the holo-communicator welded to the armor on her left forearm. Her spymaster said nothing aloud, but nodded in silent acknowledgment that she understood how such messages would be relayed.

“I do not believe that I know anything that I have not already told you,” Cassandra said. “I was kept closer to this level of the castle for a time before being moved to where you found me. They took blood and flesh samples, injected me with someone else’s blood, and kept me close to red lyrium long enough for it to… To do this,” she said, gesturing to her body as if it explained her entire intent. The sad part was that it truly did.

“I managed to escape the castle along with a few of our agents after Alexius went on his rampage,” Leliana said. “We did not make it far. Alexius sent a flare into the sky, prompting Ventori agents to sabotage Arl Teagan’s army from within, and some of the rebel mages turned on both their fellow mages and on the few Inquisition forces in the village. There weren't a great many of the traitors and spies, not in the grand scheme of things. But they were still more than enough for a surprise attack to do terrible damage to an unsuspecting and mostly unarmed population. I fought off as many Venatori as I could so that my agents could escape. Most of them did, and it is my hope that they continued to operate as procedure dictates in the event of my capture or death.”

Aloisia nodded silently as they walked, glad that her spymaster had thought to put such contingencies in place. “What happened after you…? Oh, no. I know that sound. Rift, just up ahead! Get ready for demons!”

It was difficult to mistake the sound of a rift in the Veil splitting open, and the eerie green light was all the more unsettling when it had to compete with the sickly red glow from the corrupted lyrium. Astonishingly, after a year of torture, Leliana fought with a level of skill and precision that would put Sera to shame. According to Cullen, the sometimes-Red Jenny was quite possibly the best archer in the Inquisition, though he didn’t count Varric’s marvelous crossbow as proper archery. Cullen had evidently not fought many serious battles alongside Leliana.

Even better, Cassandra still had plenty of fight left in her, and Aloisia and Dorian were still plenty strong thanks to their better health. The demons were dispatched in short order, and with a wave of her left hand, the rift closed. “Is it just me, or was that battle far easier than tackling these rifts used to be?” Aloisia asked.

“Not easier, I fear.  Just faster” Dorian replied. “It’s not just the Veil that’s been damaged, but time as well. This close to a rift, time moves even more unpredictably. It just so happened to make us move faster in this particular instance. I wouldn’t expect every battle to go so quickly or so easily, as any individual case may be.”

“Duly noted,” Aloisia said as something in the air caught her nose. “I think we may have just stepped outdoors. Only not quite… There! That gate must lead outside,” she said, pointing to a large metal grate that served to block an archway large enough for a two carriages to pass through – side-by-side – were it open. “Let’s not waste time or energy looking for a pulley or a winch,” Aloisia said as she unhooked her lightsaber from her belt and ignited the blade.

Cutting up and across and then down through the bars of the metal gate, Aloisia then called upon the Force to push the cut-out segment of metal forward and away. “Whatever you do, do not touch the edges where I cut. They will severely burn you,” Aloisia said as she carefully ducked through the opening.

A feeling of utter wrongness washed over Aloisia. It had been there before, but now that they were outside… It had to be the Breach. After fourteen months without the mark on her hand as any sort of counterbalance… She didn’t understand the science of it all, but she had a feeling that things were far, far worse than they had seemed in the relative shelter of the dungeons, ironic as that notion might be.

Coming back to her senses, Aloisia heard a vaguely familiar, female voice speaking. “The magister demands more power for his rituals!” The veracity of the words was dubious, given the gluttonous desire for power in her voice.

A man protested, “No, don’t hurt me, Linnea. You know me!”

It sounded vaguely like a conversation she’d overheard in Redcliffe’s tavern sometime between her first meeting with Alexius and heading out to the Chantry for her first encounter with Dorian. Whatever might have happened back then, it wasn’t clear enough in her mind to make out. But she could remember the name ‘Linnea’ and have the woman kept under close watch when they got back. If they got back.

Linnea’s lust for power ended up with both her and her victim turning swiftly into flaming abominations that Aloisia and her companions were thankfully ready for, and they were able to put them down with ease. Between Dorian’s magic, Leliana’s arrows, and Aloisia’s command of the Force, Cassandra barely had any need to put herself in harm’s way, which was perfectly fine with Aloisia.

“This is madness!” Dorian said. “Alexius can’t have wanted this!”

“He was a cultist,” Aloisia countered. “As such, he was almost certainly a pawn of this Elder One. You heard him before all of this. He was desperate to save his son. Love can drive the best of us to do horrible, unspeakable things, and then force us to live with the regret forever after. It doesn’t matter whether or not Alexius wanted this. What matters is that he was the cause of it. Or at the very least, he was a cause of it.”

“Alexius is a simple, pitiful man,” Leliana said, her voice still bitter, but not quite as much as before. “Do you know how I kept track of time? Once a week, for two months, someone would come and cut away a small bit of my flesh. Then I would receive weekly treatments to heal what they had taken for the next month, and then the process would begin anew. This when they were not trying to beat information out of me like rank amateurs, of course.”

“Of course,” Aloisia replied as a thought occurred to her. “Your voice, Leliana. It doesn’t have the same reverberation that Cassandra has. Were you not subjected to red lyrium?”

“No,” Leliana confirmed. “They actually took care to keep me separate from it, though I doubt it was for my benefit in any way. No, Alexius had his tests and experiments that I imagine he needed my flesh for. They injected me with blood, though I don’t know who or what it came from. Whatever it was, that is what caused my flesh to rot away into what you see now. Only after that did they begin to cut away at me.”

“Interesting,” Aloisia said, though her thoughts weren’t really on what Leliana was saying. She was mostly trying to concentrate despite the immense pressure she was feeling, as if the Force itself was pushing itself into her mind from all directions. Opening a door into a courtyard, Aloisia said to Leliana, “I’ll be sure to pass along the… The message...”

Her voice, her thoughts, everything stopped as Aloisia finally got a clear glimpse of the sky. There were no clouds, no stars, no sun, and no moon. There was no blue of day nor black of night. Everything was green, swirling around a central point that she knew would be where Haven probably no longer stood. Rock formations hovered in the air, still and unmoving. Bits of architecture, statues from civilizations Aloisia could not recognize, along with all manner of flotsam and jetsam beyond categorization floated in place above them.

“I can’t believe it,” Dorian gasped. “The Veil is… It’s come down entirely!”

Aloisia shook her head, suppressing the need to correct the notion that the Veil was a literal barrier. “No, not entirely,” she said. “At least, I don’t think so. There would be no rifts if the Veil didn't still exist in some form.  But I don’t think that matters all that much. The world is damaged beyond repair unless we stop this from ever happening. Be on your guard, everyone, now more than ever.”

As they ascended a staircase into the courtyard proper, Aloisia saw large growths of red lyrium jutting out almost as if they were in a deliberate pattern, like the courtyard had been redesigned into a sick garden of red lyrium to properly exalt the Elder One. No, of Corypheus. That’s the Elder One’s name, and Corypheus isn’t him. This is Corypheus’s doing, not his. He is dead, remember?

Only now, as she confronted the name of this dark future’s architect, did Aloisia Kallig realize just how afraid she truly was of a man - her greatest enemy - who ought to be finally dead and gone. I can’t say his name! she realized with unadulterated horror. I can’t say any of his names! Damn you, Emperor of the Sith! Damn you for all that you’ve taken from me!

As if in answer to Aloisia’s curse, a rift suddenly appeared right in the middle of the garden of red lyrium. “No,” she snarled, reaching up her left hand. “No, not again. Not ever again!” She could feel demons trying to pour through the rift, but she was forcing them back, her strength in the Force all the stronger with the Veil so thin, the power of the Fade itself invigorating her even as she sought to push it back into its own, separate realm.

The green thread of energy from her left hand grew stronger and brighter, and it pulsed in bursts as she focused herself and willed the rift back and back and even further back. And then, with a familiar and satisfying snap, it closed.

“Aloisia,” Leliana said as she rushed ahead to her side. “My lady,” she said more softly as if correcting herself. “Are you all right? Are you able to see this through?”

Aloisia didn’t think, couldn’t think. She fell into Leliana’s arms and wept openly. Damn, but she’d been so afraid all this time. Ever since the (hopefully) final battle against her mortal enemy, she’d never been truly rid of him. He’d cheated death so many times before, who was to say he hadn’t yet again? “He’s never going to die,” she sobbed into Leliana’s chainmail. “I’m never going to beat him. He’s going to keep coming back again and again and he’ll devour everything all over again until there’s nothing left. I thought I beat him, I tried, and I tried, but I can’t even say his damned name! I’m scared, Lana. I’m so scared!”

Aloisia knew that there was no time for this, knew that she couldn’t afford to have an emotional breakdown. That was never a luxury that she could ever allow herself, and yet she couldn’t get out of it in this here and now that should never have existed. Gone was the Blade of the Maker, gone was the Alliance Commander, gone was Darth Imperius, and gone was the woman who had learned that she even had the right to a surname at all. Now, she was back to being simply Aloisia.  She was no more a pitiful little girl crying into the arms of her mother who had lied to her, who had promised her that she was destined for greatness, who had told her that she had been named for a great Sith Lord that history had forgotten.

And yet, as she wept into an embrace both alien and familiar, a woman’s voice began to sing in a soft, lilting voice that reminded Aloisia of a warm lullaby. “Though all before me is shadow. Yet shall the Force be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the Void. For there is no darkness in the light of day. And nothing once alive is ever truly gone. I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path. With my eyes closed, yet I see. The Force is with me. Draw in your breath, my friend. Cross through the sky and past the stars. Be at peace within the Force. And be Forgiven.”

As the song was sung, Aloisia felt herself moved by far more than just words and melody. There was palpable intent and deep emotion behind every word and every chord of that song. It sounded like a hymn from the Chant of Light, but edited to fit Aloisia’s own beliefs. Belatedly, Aloisia realized that it was Leliana who was singing, and she only now did she truly understand why people said that she had been among the best bards ever to play the Game, as she heard people tell it. Aloisia knew that Leliana had the skills of duplicity and cunning to master any stratagem presented to her, but the music of her voice was so soothing and so gentle. It was truly like nothing that Aloisia had ever experienced since her own mother had lulled her to sleep as a young child so many years ago.

“It’s all right,” Leliana said, her voice calm and soothing as she stroked her hand through Aloisia’s long, wavy hair. “It’s all right. We’re here for you. Both of us.”

Both? There are three of you, not… Oh. “She helped with the song, didn’t she?”

“It was the very least I could do,” Lana said from within, her voice full of the unique kind of ache that only came with true, real love.

“She did, I think,” Leliana said aloud. “She was never gone at all, was she? She’s been with you from the very beginning.”

More than anything Aloisia wanted to answer back, ‘And she always will be.’ But she couldn’t do that anymore, not with doubt clouding her mind. Lana was the most amazing woman that Aloisia had ever met, and having her feelings reciprocated was like a blessing from the Force itself. And yet, in this one moment right now, Leliana had been here for her just as much as Lana had been. A ruthless woman, scarred and bitter from a year of torture and hellishness, and still she made room to comfort a woman reduced to a sobbing mess. It was getting harder and harder to deny that she might feel something for Leliana, and yet her feelings for Lana had not diminished one bit.

“We will get through this together, my love,” Lana said. “All three of us, if it comes to that. Before I met you, I was once confused as well. It was a difficult lesson to learn, but the heart truly can have room for more than one. I can't and won’t pretend it’s easy to witness it happening here and now, but I know you don’t feel any less for me. You don’t have to defend yourself, Aloy. I know. I can feel it in the Force just as much as you feel Leliana’s arms around you. Don’t worry yourself about us right now, my love. You have a mission to complete, and I shall be very cross with you if you decide to start dilly-dallying with the fate of the galaxy at stake!”

Aloisia chuckled at Lana’s scolding. The galaxy might not itself be at stake, but such chastisements had been ever so common when she had been commanding the Alliance. It brought a much needed sense of familiarity, and Aloisia knew that she would always be in love with Lana Beniko. Rising to her feet, Aloisia brushed her hands together to clear away any dirt, then she stretched her arms above her head and arched her back before settling back into a normal stance with a deep breath in and out.

“I’m very sorry you all had to witness that,” she said to Dorian, Cassandra, and Leliana. “A very figurative demon from my past came back to haunt me, and I lost myself for a moment. Thankfully, I had good people to bring me back to my senses. It’s nice to be reminded that I can rely on you even as you rely on me. Or, at least I should like to hope so. I don’t mean to presume too much.”

“It is quite all right,” Leliana said, her gentle voice a jarring contrast to her withered face. “We are all the Maker’s children, and even the mightiest of us are only mortal in the end. Andraste did not face her enemies alone, and neither shall you.”

“I am with you, my lady,” Cassandra said. “From now until the end.”

Three women turned to look at Dorian, whose eyes widened as he realized that he was the center of attention, as he supposedly loved to be. “Right, yes. Everyone needs a break now and then, and now all is well. Hugs and nug puppies for everyone. Good? Good. Now then, let’s find a way out of this hell. And we still need to be on the lookout for King Alistair.”

Aloisia sensed that Leliana was suddenly a great deal more alert. “Alistair is here? Why would… Oh. Of course. Now it all makes sense. Alexius’s experiments, everything he’s done to us… He’s still trying to save his son. What’s inside of me… It has to be the Blight. Felix was stricken with it after his mother died in a darkspawn attack. There is only one ‘cure,’ and Alistair is one of the few people in Thedas who might know how to give it to him. If Alexius is desperate enough, then Alistair might still be alive.”

“Desperation seems to have consumed him long before I ever met the man,” Aloisia said. “If King Alistair is alive, then Alexius probably keeps him close, which means that he might know more about what’s actually been happening in the world this past year. We need that information, and if Alistair might have it… Let’s hurry. We have a definite goal now. We’re going to find King Alistair, keep him alive, and find out what he knows about this past year. And if we can’t find him, we'll interrogate every guard and scour every room for any relevant documentation. Any questions? Good, I didn’t think so. Let’s move!”

“Oh, marvelous. You’re back to your old, bossy self,” Dorian said. “For future reference, when in doubt as to the Blade of the Maker’s wellbeing, present something unreasonable to her. If she gets snippy with you, you know that all is well.”

“Oh, shut it, Pavus,” Aloisia said as a thin smile began to spread across her face. Walking ahead towards the main door of the castle, Aloisia felt far lighter and freer than she had any right to feel when surrounded by so much chaos, death, and blighted lyrium.

The snap of a rift opening caught her ear, but Aloisia decided then and there that no, this rift would not cause her trouble today. With a wave of her right hand, she directed a bit of energy from her left that wrapped around the rift and slowly sewed it shut like mending a garment. Another snap, and it was gone. “All too easy,” she said airily to herself.

“Is this going to be a new normal?” Dorian asked. “It’s just that I’m not sure whether to be thankful or scared regarding the ease with which you closed that rift.”

“Oh, I doubt that this will be normal outside of this timeline,” Aloisia said as she waved shut another rift that threatened to form just ahead of them. "The Force is so much thicker and stronger with the Veil this damaged. Truthfully, I’m taking advantage of the awful consequences that we should hope never come to pass. All the same, if I can hone this skill while I have this power, I may learn to utilize it with more practice in a more proper environment.”

“Making the best out of a terrible situation, my lady?” Cassandra asked.

“Exactly. And, it seems the main gate is barred by red lyrium. Up and around via that staircase, I think,” Aloisia said as she led her comrades forward. Opening a wooden door, she found herself in a much nicer corridor than those below the docks. The stone was lighter, and the dim light from the Fade above them allowed a strange sense of lighting that was slightly more comfortable than below, if only because the raw Fade was not so corrupt like red lyrium was.

Moving forward, Aloisia saw a robed man hunched over a desk. Alas, he turned his head just enough to catch their gaze, and Aloisia acted on instinct. She hurled him sideways into the wall, and his neck snapped upon the collision. “Damn. Meant to incapacitate him to make him talk. Looks like he was writing something down. Cassandra, Leliana, take a look and narrate, please?”

Neither woman questioned her, for which Aloisia was grateful. She’d given them plenty of reasons to doubt her, both in the proper timeline and in this one. That they still followed her at all… Aloisia closed her eyes and did something she never thought she would do. "The Force is infinite, and so I can’t really say for sure whether or not the Maker is real. But if You do exist, thank You for sending such amazing people to aid this world in its time of need, whichever time of need that might be."

“Are you all right?” Dorian asked.

“Just fine, thank you,” Aloisia said as she opened her eyes. “I was just praying, of all things. Can you imagine that?”

“Yes?” Dorian half-asked. “Why wouldn’t the Blade of the Maker offer up a prayer, after all?”

Damn it, but Aloisia had gotten careless with Dorian ever since she’d learned how much insight into the truth his time with Lana had given him. Aloisia had let her guard down far more than once and let slip far too many little things that added up to quite a lot. The talk that she had promised him was going to be long and difficult.

“If you two are quite done,” Leliana said. “It appears to be a journal. The latest entry is basically an extended complaint about Alexius sequestering himself away in the throne room, denying access to all but his most trusted advisors, and as of right now, he seems to only see them twice a day when they bring him meals. This is apparently the result of ‘failed time spells.’ The journal speaks of at least twenty attempts, but there may have been more that are simply not spoken of in this entry. There is also a note about a ‘shard doorway’ being excavated and installed in the castle. ‘Painstakingly’ installed, I should note.”

“A shard doorway, really?” Dorian said. “I’ve heard of them, but never seen one. It’s supposed to be a door with a locking mechanism that opens only with the correct amount – and the correct kind – of magical shard. If I were to hazard a guess, I would imagine that red lyrium is the key”

“Red lyrium, of course. Ah, here is another volume,” Cassandra said, picking up a leather-bound tome. “The handwriting appears to be the same, but this book is full. Perhaps an earlier set of recollections?”

“Flip to the last entry,” Aloisia said. “Let’s see how it compares to the last entry of the more recent journal.”

“One moment,” Cassandra said as she turned the pages to find the beginning of the proper entry. “'Alexus keeps asking for patrols of the walls,’” she read aloud. “'Waste of time, if you ask me. The Inquisition ground themselves to a pulp against the wall ages ago. Ferelden made three attempts to lay siege before the last life got crushed out of them.’ I wish I could say that was surprising, but Fereldans should know better than anyone how resistant Redcliffe Castle is to a siege. Cullen knew this very well. He must have been desperate to keep at it for so long.”

“Of course, he was,” Leliana said bluntly. “Without the Blade, the Breach will always be a threat. As far as he knew, most likely, the world’s only hope was trapped in Redcliffe Castle. He had no other choice.”

“Does it say anything else, Cassandra?” Aloisia asked.

“Yes, it continues,” she said. “'Who is left out there to threaten us? Ferelden is spent, Orlais fell months ago, and then Nevarra. The Free Marches have been destroyed, along with Antiva and Rivain. Only the Qunari remain, and they’ve not pushed out of Par Vollen since we drove them back to that accursed island. How they are able to stand and remain against the Elder One's conquest is not a thought to dwell on. But Par Vollen is of no concern to us in Redcliffe. Aside from goat-throwing barbarians, there is nothing to worry about at all. And yet, Alexius seems to expect a siege. The man has gone completely mad. Better to put the men on watch inside the walls. More of those blasted rifts open every day. It was better when we still had people for blood sacrifices.’ Forgive me, but I do not wish to read any more of this filth aloud. Suffice it to say, it speaks of unbound demons running amok throughout the castle, Redcliffe village, and then everywhere else.”

“Everywhere else, except for Par Vollen,” Aloisia corrected her. “Dorian, if I’m not mistaken, the Imperium has been at war with the Qunari for literal ages now. Based on what you know, do you think the Qunari could withstand a world full of demons and red lyrium and the Veil torn open as we have seen with our own eyes?”

“Based on what I know?” Dorian said. “No, there is no way at all the Qunari could survive that. With that being said, the Qunari would not hesitate to use chaos between the nations of Thedas as an opportunity to soften us up for an inevitable invasion. But that's entirely different than waiting to invade a world that is coming to its end. That would just be pure madness, and madness is the one thing that I can say with absolute certainty that the Qunari cannot abide. Even if their standards are difficult to comprehend at times, I can think of no situation where they would find this future to be acceptable in any way.”

“A puzzle for another time, then. What about the first entry in that journal, Cassandra? Anything useful?” Aloisia asked.

“I do not believe so," Cassandra said. "He writes boastful accounts about how Alexius ‘smote the Blade of the Maker,’ paving the way for his Elder One to conquer the world, and how ‘a new age for Tevinter is just over the horizon.’ That sort of nonsense. No details, no actual information that we do not already know. And even that is false, for you are very obviously not dead.”

“Indeed, she isn’t,” Dorian said. “Well, not at the moment, anyway.”

“Dorian,” Aloisia warned with a wide, white smile that did not reach her eyes. “You’re a funny man. You’re remarkably handsome and witty. I’d like to call you a friend, given time. Shut up for a while, all right?”

If the sudden paling of his face was any indicator, Dorian had received the message loud and clear that he was not to speak so openly of her ability to withstand death of all things. “I think I like you quite a bit better when you’re bossing me around,” he grumbled.

“That can be arranged,” Aloisia retorted. “We could spend hours poring over this journal, but I don’t want to spend a second longer in this hell than I have to. For all we know, there are magical alarms we’ve tripped without realizing. Let’s keep moving. Follow my lead.”

The four of them moved through a hallway and down a staircase. On the other side of a door, Aloisia recognized the foyer of the castle where she had waited to be announced to Alexius. Said foyer was, at the moment, full of demons mulling about near an open rift.

“I’m going to work on the rift,” Aloisia said. “Cover me from the demons. And shut up, Dorian!” she said just as he started to make some remark about ‘working on the rift.’ She wasn’t sure if she had heard him start to speak with her ears or else had predicted it with the Force. Regardless, he did as she bade and shut his mouth and got to work with his staff.

There was something puzzling about the rifts that only now occurred to Aloisia as strange. The rifts spawned demons, and yet the rifts could only be closed once the demons were no longer there. But if left unchecked, they would continue to spawn more and more demons until the waking world was overrun. Demons were native to the Fade, so it was likely that even on this side, there was some connection tying them to their native realm. And that connection was acting like a cord that got in the way of the rift sealing itself up.

Aloisia had up until now been able to disrupt the rift, thus weakening the strength of the proverbial cord. Could she cut it off entirely? Taking a deep and steady breath, Aloisia reached out with her left hand and pushed at the rift, then pulled at it. Push and pull, needle and thread, sew shut the wound. Sever the connection.

She met resistance, and it built further and further, more and more, and then with a snap, it was gone as the rift closed, and the demons in the foyer all suddenly fell limp and motionless, and were dealt their killing blows swiftly thereafter.

“Remarkable,” Dorian said. “How did you-“

“Not now!” Aloisia and Cassandra shouted in unison, after which Aloisia cringed a bit. “Great. We just made a bit more noise than we needed to. Leliana, you know the layout of the castle, yes? Where would the arl’s room be? That’s likely where Alexius was staying before he locked himself in the throne room, and a royal prisoner would likely be kept close by.”  Silently, she chastised herself for choosing now of all times to experiment with tears in the Veil.  It would be best not to let such another lapse in judgement haunt her in the future.

“I know the way,” Leliana said, her voice falling into a more typical quiet and deadly tone. “Follow me.”

Aloisia fell in silently behind Leliana as she guided them up a staircase on the opposite side of the foyer from where they had just come. As they ascended, Aloisia felt something – only a vague feeling – coming from Dorian. She turned to face him. “Something on your mind?”

“How did- No, never mind. I can wait for that,” Dorian said, cutting off the inevitable protest. “It’s just that all of a sudden, you’re letting someone else give the orders. I would have found it a bit more curious if not for… Well, back in the courtyard.”

“Seriously?” Cassandra said, the grunt going unspoken. “You are choosing now of all times to start gossiping?!"”

Aloisia was suddenly very self-aware, and she did not care for it. “Everybody just shut up and follow Leliana. And Dorian, when we get back, we will have two talks. One will be to answer questions that you deserve answers to, and the other will be about when it is permissible and when it is not to ask certain kinds of questions. You will adhere to these guidelines, or else you will find yourself wishing that I’d left you here in this timeline, if only to escape what you will suffer should you break my trust when we get back. Do I look or sound as if I am joking?”

“No, you most certainly do not,” Dorian said, sounding humbled and embarrassed. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now, if you would kindly shut the fuck up and stay that way until I say otherwise. Understood?” Aloisia silently cursed herself. Foul language was not something that she tended to use as a general rule. She was likely far more stressed than she realized on a conscious level.  More than that, she had already adopted this world's profanity into her personal vocabulary.

Dorian opened his mouth as if to say ‘yes,’ but a raised eyebrow from Aloisia prompted him to close his mouth and to simply nod silently in answer.

“Much better," Aloisia said. "Please, lead on, Leliana.”

“A moment,” she said, holding up her hand to bring them to a stop. Leliana unstrapped her bow and let fly two arrows in quick succession. “They were guarding the door to the arl’s room. The way should be clear.”

“Thank you,” Aloisia said as she made her way past Leliana and towards the door. She could sense one person on the other side, and she could sense the blight in him, but it was somehow different than it had been in the blighted wolves or the darkspawn, or even what had happened to Leliana, Cassandra, and Solas in this timeline.

Not wanting to bother with a possibly-tainted key, Aloisia unhooked her lightsaber and used it to burn through the lock, then pushed the door open with the Force. On the other side was a single man in his late thirties, maybe his early forties, bound by rope to a rather luxurious, cushioned chair.

“Leliana, Is that you? Oh, Maker, what did they do to you?!” he said in a mix of relief and distress.

“Alistair! Never mind about me!” Leliana cried in return as she rushed to her friend’s side “I’m just relieved to see you alive and unharmed. You are unharmed, are you not? My lady, can you do something about these bindings?”

“I can, but with care, and only if you aren’t particularly attached to that chair, Your Majesty. Emotionally attached, that is to say.”

“For the record, I am unharmed, at least physically. And you know, when I first became king, I found cushions to be a wonderfully pleasant surprise after years of sleeping on all sorts of bare floors. After a year bound to this room, I’d give anything for something without an ounce of fluff in it.”

“Very well, King Alistair. If I tell you to stay still, then please do so. I do not exaggerate when I say that there is very little this blade cannot cut through.” So saying, Aloisia ignited her lightsaber.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair exclaimed. “Well, you simply have to be the Blade of the Maker, with a weapon like that. I suppose Alexius wasn’t lying when he said you weren’t dead.”

“Indeed, I’m very much alive. Now hold still while I cut these ropes, and maybe the chair along with it. Hopefully not your limbs or your backside.” Slowly and cautiously, Aloisia burned through the simple hempen rope bindings that fell to the floor in clumps as she did away with the bindings on the legs, armrests, and back of the chair.

After disengaging her blade, and with a nod of approval to the erstwhile king of Ferelden, Alistair got to his feet and stretched in every which way like there was no tomorrow. Which, Aloisia realized, could very possibly be the case. “Thank you so very much. I’m afraid I don’t have any proper armor, but give me a sword and shield, and I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“I don’t want you to throw your life away, though I fear it may come to that,” Aloisia said bluntly. Leliana had told her that Alistair was a very laid-back sort of man, having lived most of his life as a commoner before ascending to the throne. “The most vital thing we need is information. To make a long story short, I wasn't killed, but sent forward through time along with Dorian.  That's him, over there," she said, gesturing towards the man who simply nodded silently in return.  "If we can gain access to a certain magical amulet – probably held by Alexius himself – we may be able to return to the moment and place from when he cast his spell and sent us here in the first place. Everything that has transpired in the past fourteen months will cease to exist, because we will be there to stop it from ever coming to pass. Are you with me so far?”

“I think so?” Alistair said. “It all sounds so unbelievable, but then, so has this entire past year in all the worst ways imaginable. That being said, I do remember Leliana vouching for you a lifetime ago, and given that you’re in her company right now, I’m inclined to believe you if she does.”

“And she does believe her,” Leliana said. “Go on, my lady.”

“Thank you. So, if we return to our time, and if we stop this future from happening, we can also put a stop to the Elder One’s plans if we know what he intends. While Dorian and I have just arrived, and while Cassandra and Leliana have been locked away, you have been up here closer to Alexius, and you may have an idea of his intentions. You may have even witnessed these intentions coming to pass. If you can share that information with us, and if we can take it back to before all of this has happened…”

“Then you’ll know his moves before he even has the chance to make them! Oh, that’s brilliant. And terrifying, oh, so very terrifying. But if this works the way I think it does, then it’ll be these Venatori bastards who’ll be feeling the terror for a change.”

“That is the plan, Your Majesty,” Aloisia said.

“Oh, please, stop that! No ‘majesties,’ please,” Alistair protested. “It makes me feel old and useless, and I’d very much like to stop feeling useless anymore. So, before anything else, I think that something very wrong was happening with the Gray Wardens even before the explosion at the Conclave. Around the turn of the year, I began having strange dreams, hearing a haunting sort of music. I knew what it was, but I couldn’t believe it was happening to me. The Calling tells a Grey Warden that the blight will take his mind soon, and it’s tradition for a Warden to go off to the Deep Roads to fight until they die, taking as many darkspawn with them as they can.”

“All right,” Aloisia said, taking in the information. So Alistair was a Grey Warden, and he carried the blight inside him. “Why did you think that this was wrong?”

“It was wrong because the Calling isn’t supposed to come to a Warden for, oh, at least twenty-five or thirty years after the Joining, if not longer,” Alistair clarified, his voice tinged with anger. “My mentor, Duncan, was Warden-Commander of Ferelden for two decades before he died, and he was likely a junior warden for a good deal of time before then. I think that he may have started to hear the Calling when he died, but no Warden would go off on their own with a Blight on its way. And Sola- Ehem. That is to say, Warden-Commander Amell also began to hear the Calling at about the exact same time that I did, and both of us had only been Grey Wardens for ten years, give or take a few months. When Solana last wrote me, she said that all of her subordinates had begun to hear the Calling as well, and they were headed westward to a rendezvous with the Orlesian wardens, who were supposedly also all hearing the Calling.”

“In other words,” Aloisia supposed, “every single Grey Warden in most of southern Thedas suddenly feared that they could all lose their collective minds very soon. That would mean the end of the Grey Wardens entirely…”

“And that would mean that there would be no one left, ever again, to stop the Sixth and Seventh Blights whenever they should come to pass,” Alistair finished. “Solana felt that her people were desperate enough to believe that this was some sort of omen requiring drastic action, but being Warden-Commander of Ferelden, she had access to information that she thought might put something more sinister behind this Calling, which she didn't believe to be a true Calling at all. The last I heard from her was just after the Breach appeared, and she told me that she was going to find out the truth of the matter.”

“Desperation,” Aloisia hissed, growing angrier and angrier at Corypheus’s tactics. “First Alexius, and now the Grey Wardens. It seems to be a favored tactic of his. That was a year ago for you, Alistair. Are you still hearing the Calling?”

“No, but it might be better than the alternative. The day the Calling stopped, I was so relieved to finally know for certain that it had been false. But fucking Alexius chose that day to tell me that Empress Celene had been assassinated. The civil war got worse in Orlais, with Celene’s supporters growing all the more fervent, calling her a martyr, and meanwhile Gaspard had the might of the throne and its chevaliers behind him. The war descended into outright slaughter of anyone nearby, which was pretty much everyone in Orlais as the chaos hit cities, villages, and everywhere else.”

“You’re sure that Cor- That the Elder One was behind the empress’s assassination?”

“With the Venatori here openly bragging about it? I was fairly sure, but it was when Nevarra fell that I realized how bad things were. Apparently, Nevarra fell to a literal army of demons – supposedly with marching orders and everything from Venatori generals – that Alexius said had just finished slaughtering every man, woman, and child in Orlais.”

“You say that Alexius told you all of this,” Leliana said. “You are here in his chambers, tied to a comfortable chair that has since grown too fluffy for your tastes. I believe I know why, but I would like to hear it from you, Alistair.”

Alistair barked out a humorless laugh. “I was the key to saving his son, he told me. Felix Alexius had been blighted, and while becoming a Grey Warden could slow the process by a good many years, it was never meant to be a cure. Alexius didn’t care. He kept me as his ‘honored guest,’ and he insisted that only those most loyal to him, personally, be allowed to know I was even here. I don’t think the Elder One wanted any Grey Wardens to exist anywhere at all outside of whatever scheme he had planned for them. Quite honestly, after meeting the lad, Felix seemed more like a victim than anything else, so I told Alexius what I knew about the Joining ritual. I told him that it wasn't really a mercy, and I warned him about what the Wardens were going through, but I think I fooled myself into believing that it would truly help the boy. I know, I know. I can already hear Morrigan disapproving from wherever she is across space and time. I really shouldn’t have even known the deepest secrets behind the Joining ritual at all, but Solana – Warden-Commander Amell, that is – let it slip one night after a wonderful game of Pin the Tail on Your Smallclothes. Memories like that have helped me to get by from day to day, you know? Anyway, for reasons only the Maker knows, I decided that despite the sins of the father, the son deserved a chance to live a little bit longer than he otherwise might have. The horrifying part was that Alexius believed it could work.”

“And why is that so horrifying?” Aloisia asked.

“The Joining ritual involves consuming a concoction of various herbs mixed with lyrium and darkspawn blood. This much, every initiate learns when they become a Grey Warden, if they survive the Joining,” Alistair explained. “The super-top-secret-on-pain-of-death part is that it also requires a drop of blood from an archdemon, and Alexius believed that the Elder One could provide that to him with ease. I remember his anger when it didn’t work. He called me a liar and threatened to take away all my comfortable privileges. I know, what would I do without my fluffy chair? In the end, we figured it out together. There’s a blighted dragon out there somewhere, just not an Old God. All the same, the Elder One has some manner of control over it, and that is a weapon that I would rather no one ever have. I fought the last archdemon, and even a pale imitation of one would still be the most awful foe to have to face. Well, you were there, too, Leliana.”

“I see,” Aloisia said, her mind racing as she tried to keep her emotions under control. “So the Elder One has enough control over the blight to command a tainted dragon, and also to affect the minds of most, maybe all of the Grey Wardens of southern Thedas. Cassandra, you were angry at the prospect of Varric lying earlier. Does this new knowledge of our enemy not fit his description of what he and Marian Hawke encountered?”

“I…” Cassandra’s silence was confirmation enough. “But he said that they killed him.

“What does that matter?” Aloisia said. “He would not be the first would-be god I’ve faced who managed to cheat death. I can only hope that this one isn’t nearly as cunning or as powerful as the other one.”

Alistair looked back and forth from Cassandra to Aloisia before letting out a long sigh and falling back into his cushioned chair. “I don’t envy any of you this task, not at all. And if you’re still suspicious of me, Leli, Alexius kept me around in relative comfort as a sort of ‘thank you’ for all that I tried to do for his son. He made sure I was treated well enough, but never free to move about. He talked to me, though really, it was more like rambling about the wretched state of the world he helped to bring about. He tried to change it, you know? It started with orders from the Elder One, but it soon became personal. He was supposed to use his time magic to go back before the Breach and stop you from messing up some sacrifice or another,” he said, gesturing at Aloisia. “For some reason, his time magic doesn’t work at all when it involves anything before the Breach appeared in the sky. He ranted on and on about failing the Elder One, then about failing to stop the darkspawn attack that killed his wife and infected his son. He even talked about failing to stop the Venatori when they first came to Minrathous. Alexius may be a monster, but I'm fairly sure that he knows what he is, and I think he hates himself for all that he’s done. I can absolutely never forgive him, but having seen so much of the man, I think I might pity him. But only just a little bit.”

Aloisia’s eyes widened at the mention of the limitations of time magic. “Dorian! Was that useful at all? Does that knowledge about the limits of his time magic help us in any way?”

“In a very small sense,” Dorian said quietly. “If its effects are limited to events after the formation of the Breach, then that means that we should still be able to get back to the place and time we came from. I don’t know how much that means in the grand scheme of things, but I know enough to be just a little bit more certain than I was a minute ago. And certainty of any kind is very good when it comes to magic.”

“I’ll take it,” Aloisia said before turning back to Alistair. “Is there anything else that you can remember that might be of use in stopping the Elder One’s plans? And also, if there is anything that hasn’t already been said that you’d like me to tell you when we get back – that is, anything you know now that you would have rather known fourteen months ago – any messages you want to relay to that past Alistair, I can deliver them for you. Hopefully.”

“A message to myself fourteen months ago? Before all of this?” Alistair said. “If it’s something that I can take to the Landsmeet, or even if not… Tell me that if I’m even hearing this message, then the Blade of the Maker and her Inquisition have saved the entire fucking world simply because they’re alive and telling me this at all, and that I should help you however I can, along with whatever aid Ferelden can offer. And if I don't listen to you for whatever reason, please invite Leliana to knock some sense into me. Maker knows I sometimes need a good knock to the skull, but don't say that too close to Anora. I'd never hear the end of it.”

That was about as solid an endorsement as Aloisia could possibly get, and if she were to play this audio back for the Alistair of the proper timeline to hear, then the Inquisition would probably gain a solid alliance with Ferelden. It was far more than she could have ever hoped for.

“Thank you very much, Your Majesty. And yes, you hate your titles. I know. Suck it up, it’s proper this time,” she said with a smile. “Now, there’s just one small thing left to do.”

“Indeed,” Dorian said. “All that’s left is to confront Alexius, get our hands on his amulet without damaging it, and then get back to our own time without any demons, Venatori, or darkspawn killing us in the process. No, I don't see any problems ahead of us whatsoever.”

Alistair sighed contentedly. “Ah, so many fond memories are all coming back to me now. Just like the Blight, the end of the world has a way of bringing people together. Now, if none of you mind all that much, I think I’ll be joining you to see this thing through to its end.”

“Yes,” Aloisia said, steeling herself for one last confrontation, either with words or with her lightsaber. “This timeline has gone on long enough. I think I’m going to enjoy putting an end to the future.”

Chapter Text

“How are you holding up, Alistair?” Aloisia asked as she turned to watch the Fereldan king practice his attacks, parries, and blocks with the sword and shield he had taken from a Venatori corpse. “You’ve been out of commission for a while. Will you be able to keep up?”

“I may not have been able to move nearly as much as I like, but I’m thankfully well-fed and practically twitching with the slightest move of my fingers. I suppose after sitting still for so long, my body almost wants to start moving again,” he said. “The sword is normal enough, but the shield is larger than I’m used to. All the better to break down sobbing and hide behind when the fighting begins.”

Aloisia couldn’t help but think back to when she had broken down in tears maybe thirty minutes ago, if that. “All I need to know is that if you start to be more hindrance than help, please get out of the way. Not to be cruel, but we’d be better served by one less fighter than a fighter in poor shape and ability to coordinate.”

“Oh, there are no hard feelings, I promise you,” Alistair said warmly. “Back when I was king, everyone was always expecting great things of me. Before all of that, however, I was just a useless nobody. It’s kind of refreshing to have lower expectations to meet for a change. It feels like old times, wouldn’t you say, Leli?”

“No,” Leliana said darkly. “History taught us that Blights could be stopped, and we did stop it. To stop this future… Forgive me, Alistair, but I am not in a very joking mood.”

The simple fact that Alistair had a pet name for Leliana that she actually allowed spoke volumes about their relationship. Had anyone else spoken to her that way – Aloisia herself included – the Nightingale would have likely been far harsher with them. While Leliana had shown a great deal of compassion towards her earlier during Aloisia’s breakdown, she was still a deeply scarred woman, both without and within. With each step they took towards the throne room, Aloisia could feel Leliana’s resolve grow harder and also very much darker.

It took a few precious moments of self-reflection as she walked, but Aloisia forced herself to think through the eyes of Leliana, Cassandra, and Alistair. These three people had been stuck here in this dark future for over a year. Cassandra had suffered, but her sense of duty and discipline was still as strong as ever. Alistair was harder to read, and Aloisia didn’t have a baseline to compare this version to. He spoke light-heartedly, but about the truly vital things, he spoke with utter seriousness.

As for Leliana, she was a cloud of dark emotions clashing against each other like a raging storm. Aloisia could sense a resolve to make things right, but she could also sense anger, resentment, hatred, and a need for revenge. Cassandra had her rigid sense of duty, Alistair’s good humor was likely as much a shield as the metal plate he held, but Leliana was barely holding herself together, though she made a good show – if only superficial – of keeping pace with everyone else from an emotional perspective.

"It's sort of a cruel joke, in a way," Alistair said as they stalked towards the stairs.  "The first time I saw a rift, all I could think about was Solana.  Before she was 'the Hero of Ferelden,' I used to poke fun at her and call her 'the Jade Warden.'  Some people saw her and thought she was touched by the Fade.  Knowing that the Breach has grown so large, I feel sorry that I ever made light of her looks."

"Should I be aware of some tale about Warden-Commander Amell?" Aloisia asked quietly, taking a mental note should she ever get back to the present.

Alistair chuckled before continuing under his breath.  "Solana has green eyes, and during her time at the Circle, she told me that she tried to ensorcel or enchant her makeup so that it wouldn't run as the day took its toll.  It worked only too well, for her eyelids and lips are now permanently green.  Even her hair - turned white from her accidental discovery of her magic as a girl - is tinged a bit green.  You probably wouldn't mistake her if she ever caught your eye."

"I'll keep that in mind," Aloisia said as they all descended into the foyer. “Before we confront Alexius, I want to make sure that we are all on the same page. We have only one objective. We need to secure an amulet so that Dorian can magic the two of us back to before all of this ever happened. Alexius probably has the amulet, but if Alistair’s word is any indicator, he’s been utterly broken by what he’s brought about. You don’t have to forgive him, but if you attack him, he may fight back, and we will risk damaging the one thing that can help us achieve our mission.”

“So, what? We’re just going to ask him nicely to give up his precious, timey bauble?” Alistair asked. “Not to sound like a spoiled child, but I was rather hoping to wallop him for at least a while.”

“If all goes well, there won’t be any need to wallop anyone,” Aloisia countered. “Let me put it this way, Alistair. If you decide to wallop the magister, and if you destroy the amulet by accident, then you’ll spend the rest of your very short life in a very fluffy chair as the world fills up with more and more demons, and you’ll eventually meet your end at the end of a creature of the Fade that has decided to take the shape of the fluffiest of chairs. Does that make things any clearer, Your Majesty?”

“Ugh, yes! I get it,” he half-whined. “You really know how to burst a man’s bubble, Lady Blade. All right. I’ll stay my sword while you try to talk some sense into him. I’ll even help if I can. I’ve been his ‘guest’ for a while, after all. That being said, I haven’t seen him in quite some time, and he didn’t seem well when I did last see him. I can’t imagine he’s in any sort of enviable place at all.”

“Good,” Leliana said, her voice cold and brusque. “Let us get this over with and be done with it.”

“Agreed,” Cassandra said, her echoing voice an audible reminder of what was at stake.

“Yes, I concur,” Dorian said. “And not to beat a dead horse, but without the amulet, this is all for nothing. If it’s on Alexius’s person… Well, as much as you might want to beat the ever-living shit out of him, you could just as easily destroy our only way out of this mess.”

“We know,” Leliana said with a glare. “Aloisia has made that clear.”

Despite the cold, dark rage simmering beneath the surface, Aloisia couldn’t help but notice that Leliana had referred to her by her given name, not as the Blade of the Maker or as Lady Kallig. Had that encounter in the courtyard brought out feelings in more than just herself, Aloisia wondered?

She shook her head clear of such thoughts. This was not the time or place to be thinking about such things. They had one objective, and nothing else mattered. Aloisia approached the door and unhooked her lightsaber. “Stand back,” she said. “This is a magical lock of some kind, and I’m hoping that it being a stone door will matter just as much in opening it as any enchantment. That being said, there may be some reaction to what I’m about to do. So, brace yourselves, just in case.”

So saying, Aloisia ignited her blade, brought it up to the top of the circular locking mechanism, and plunged the blade into the stone, almost up to the hilt. The door was thick, and while her weapon could cut through almost anything, it did have its limits. With a door this thick and made of stone, her blade met resistance as she brought it down the middle of the door, slowly but surely, bisecting the shard lock one centimeter at a time.

Finally, as her blade cut its way through the bottom of the circular enchantment, the center of the doorway cracked into inert fragments and fell away, the enchantment broken along with the lock it had been holding together. Disengaging her blade and hooking the hilt back to her belt, Aloisia turned once more to face her companions. “All right. Ready yourselves and follow my lead.”

Putting her hands on the left and right doors, Aloisia called upon the Force to give her a bit of added strength to push them open. The throne room came into clear view, the only lighting coming from a large, flaming hearth. The arl’s throne that Alexius had once claimed for himself was nowhere to be seen, but Alexius himself was unmistakable.

Even facing away, slumped towards the open flame, feelings of utter defeat rolling off of him like waves, Aloisia knew that this was the same man who had sent her and Dorian to this Force-forsaken future. “No guards this time, Alexius? No trap, no Venatori, no demons? Just us, then, is it?”

“Yes, we are all that is left,” Alexius said as he turned to face her. There was no fight in him that Aloisia could see, hear, or sense. “I knew you would appear again. Not that it would be now, but I knew from the first that I hadn’t destroyed you. My final failure.”

“Was it worth it?” Dorian asked, and Aloisia kicked herself for not thinking to consider how Dorian would react to all of this. No, he hadn’t suffered through this timeline as the others had, but his relationship with Alexius was far deeper and more personal than anyone else could claim. “Everything you did to the world? To yourself? Is this what you really wanted?”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Alexius said, resigned. “All we can do now is wait for the end.”

Now that sounded distinctly ominous. “Have you seen the state of the world, Alexius? The end has come and gone. What is left that has not ended already?”

Alexius chuckled mirthlessly. “We are left, my lady,” he said. “All that I fought for, all that I betrayed, and what have I wrought? Ruin and death and nothing else at all, not for much longer. The Elder One comes for me, for you, for us all.”

Aloisia felt a tiny flicker of fear that hadn’t yet died within Alexius, and she knew he spoke literally. The Elder One was on his way here, to Redcliffe Castle. They had even less time to finish things here.

The sound of a dagger being unsheathed alerted Aloisia to Leliana, who had managed to sneak off to a corner behind Alexius and put said dagger to the throat of a body with a familiar face, but there was no life to be sensed there. Its lungs might breathe air, its heart might pump blood, but there was nothing resembling life within Felix Alexius’s body anymore.

“Felix,” Alexius sighed sadly, but he made no move save to stretch out a hand to all that remained of his son.

“That’s Felix?!” Dorian said. “Maker’s breath, Alexius! What have you done?!”

“This is what became of him?” Alistair said. “Alexius, I know you wanted to save your son, and I truly did try to help, but this… This isn’t Felix anymore. This is the cost of the Blight. Wardens pay it just as surely as anyone else, only later.”

“No!” Alexius protested. “My son is still here! He’s all I have left!” he said as he faced Leliana. “Please, don’t hurt my son. I’ll do whatever you ask, just please, leave Felix be!”

Aloisia had to intervene now, before it was too late. “Leliana, listen to me. Sister Nightingale of the Inquisition, you will listen to me! We have one objective, and only one. And the Elder One is on his way right now. If you harm that boy, you will be faced with a man focused on revenge with nothing left in the world to lose. The amulet could be damaged or destroyed, and your revenge will doom the world that Divine Justinia died to protect!”

Leliana did not let go of her knife, but Aloisia felt her eyes drift ever so slightly towards Aloisia, who began to walk slowly, step by step by single step, towards her spymaster. “You’re the Nightingale, you’re the Left Hand of the Divine, and you are the spymaster of the Inquisition. You know better than anyone how to weigh the costs and benefits of any possible gambit. If you kill that boy, you will gain a moment of satisfaction, but what will it cost? You know as well as I that it’s a cost that can never be recouped and that we cannot afford at all.”

Leliana’s hand remained steady, but her gaze showed the slightest signs of doubt.

“Leliana,” Aloisia said as she held out her left hand level to Felix’s neck, “don’t cut anything or anyone, and drop the knife.”

Leliana’s eyes met Aloisia’s, and this close, it was easy to ignore the withered and tainted flesh that surrounded those deep blue eyes. “I told you that I’d never abandon you, Leliana, and I meant that. I’m here for you now, so please. Please, give me the knife, and you will give us all hope for a better future than this.”

Leliana blinked once, and her eyes told a different story now. Now her eyes told a tale of a woman who realized what she had almost done, and who was horrified at what she had almost cost the world. Her hand brought the knife away from Felix’s throat, and it fell out of her hand. Aloisia was so surprised that she failed to catch the knife, and it clattered against the stone floor, no longer any threat to anyone.

“Oh, Felix, my son!” Alexius said as he rushed over and embraced the lifeless body of his only remaining attachment to the world.

As much as Aloisia would want to give a grieving father the time he needed, time was in short supply. “Alexius, you promised to give us whatever we wanted if we let your son go. You and Dorian made an amulet that is the focus for your time magic. If you give it to us, Dorian can cast a spell and undo the spell that brought us here. You’ve seen what the Elder One had done to the world, and you’ve seen that he can’t save your son, or at least not to the extent you hoped that he could. But if Dorian and I can go back to the moment you cast that spell, then the Elder One’s vision doesn’t have to come to be at all. ‘Ruin and death and nothing else,’ just as you said. If there is even a chance for something better than that, then I implore you to give us the amulet and let us try to fix this awful future of his.”

“How many times have I tried to undo it all?” Alexius wailed. “I’ve tried it all, believe me, and nothing worked, not one thing.”

“Maybe not,” Aloisia conceded. “But if you let Dorian try, regardless, then nothing will change. If he fails, then things remain as they are. But if he succeeds, then we all win. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Even if you believe all hope is lost, what do you have to lose by helping those of us with a sliver of hope left?”

Alexius was still for a moment, clutching his son’s body, and then he reached into a pocket in his coat and removed a familiar amulet. “I gave up on hope long ago. But if you still have it within you… Dorian, please. Save us. Save us all, my old friend.”

“I’ll certainly try, Gereon,” Dorian said as he took the amulet in his hands gingerly, cradling it like the precious lifeline that it was. “I’ll get to work immediately on the spell. Normally, I’d say I’d need an hour to do it properly, but if you’re right, and the Elder One is on his way, then I’ll get it done faster.”

“Do what you have to, Dorian,” Aloisia said. “Cassandra, Alistair, hold that door for as long as you can against whatever may come your way. Take what time remains to rest and prepare yourselves. Leliana, you’ll be our last line of defense, should it come to that.”

“My shield has been yours since the day we met,” Cassandra says. “I will pray that it may serve you for a while longer in the better future you hope to make.”

“A decade later, and I’m back to fighting demons and darkspawn. And maybe even another blighted dragon! Full circle, it seems,” Alistair said. “I remember during the Blight, I would have given anything to die fighting at Ostagar. A bit late, and a bit elsewhere, but I may get to see that wish fulfilled after all.”

“Just focus on the fighting and not on the dying,” Aloisia said. “Remember, so long as you’re fighting, our chances of victory stay up.”

“Oh, believe me,” Alistair said. “I’m very much aware of what I need to do. ‘In war, victory. In death, sacrifice.’ I’ll stay with the former for as long as I can, but if the latter comes to pass, I’ll be sure to make it count. And if we succeed… Well, I guess I’ll see you on the other side, Leliana.”

“You will, Alistair,” she answered as a king and a seeker turned to face their fate and closed the stone door behind them.

Aloisia walked back over to Alexius. “I have one last thing to ask of you Alexius. In the slim chance that we do succeed… If there is anything that you would have me tell you – that is, you as you were fourteen months ago, before all of this ever happened – say it aloud, and I will give you the message.”

“How many times have I wished that I could warn my past self not to be so foolish?” Alexius wailed. “Tell me that it was all lies. Tell me that the Elder One will bring naught but death to the whole world, including the Imperium. Tell me that the hope the Elder One gave me, the hope that I could save my son… Tell me that it was false hope that brought me and my son nothing but misery and ruin at the end of all things.”

Confident that her holo-comm had caught his words with perfect clarity, Aloisia allowed herself what she hoped was a comforting smile. “I will relay the message, I swear.” She then moved to stand close to Dorian as he worked his magic on the amulet. This would be focal point, and they would both need to be near it if they wanted to get back in one piece.

“My lady,” Leliana said, a question in her voice.

“What is it, Sister Leliana?” Aloisia answered.

For some reason, that got a chuckle out of the withered woman who was still standing strong. “I just wanted to thank you for forcing me to see reason. Had I lost myself in revenge, and oh, how I have dreamed of it for so long, like a safety blanket of hope? But had I given into that selfish desire, we would be fighting for our lives now, precious minutes would be lost, and our only hope might have been destroyed in the melee. Leliana, if you are hearing this, know that you must never give into despair. Even if you can see no hope, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there in some form just out of reach, or that you might be blinded by despair. If you are hearing this, it means the Blade of the Maker has saved us all from a fate too terrible for you to imagine. And know that for all that she is the Inquisition’s best hope, Aloisia may need you more than you realize.”

Aloisia felt as though her heart was being pulled to and fro by her long-established love for Lana Beniko and her growing appreciation and affection for Leliana. Lana had told her that the heart can hold room for more than one, but could it do so without betraying one or other? She didn’t know the answer, and as much as she wanted to ask Lana for her wisdom right now, it would have to wait.

Nodding at Leliana, Aloisia mouthed a silent “Thank you.” Leliana returned a small smiled and a silent nod of her own in return before turning to face the closed door, readying her bow and her quiver. Aloisia moved to secure her place next to Dorian and the hovering amulet, and then the silence was broken by the roar of some mighty beast bellowing from above.

Aloisia could sense an immense and terribly corrupt presence that had to be the blighted dragon, but her attention was drawn to the doorway, behind which she sensed a number of disruptions in the Force.

“The Elder One brings rifts in his wake,” Leliana said. “You must hurry! It will not be long now, or we will be overrun.”

“You heard her, Dorian. Pick up the pace,” Aloisia said.

To his credit, Dorian didn’t talk back, didn’t look up, but intensified his focus on the spell. Aloisia could feel it in the Force and she could see it in his eyes.

The door shook as if it was being hammered from the other side. Leliana nocked an arrow. “Though darkness closes,” she recited, “I am shielded by flame.”

The doors burst open, and Aloisia could only watch, forced to stay still, as demons stalked through the open doors, tossing the dead bodies of Cassandra and Alistair to the side. Even as they threatened to fill the room, they began to fall to an unceasing volley of arrows. “Andraste guide me,” Leliana said. “Maker, take me to your side!”

Aloisia had rarely felt so helpless, knowing that all hope depended on her staying in one spot while her devoted allies were fighting and dying right in front of her. Soon, there was no room for Leliana to draw her bow, but that did not stop her. The bow became a bludgeon, and her own body a fluid and deadly weapon that served to draw the ire of every foe in the room onto her alone.

Dammit, but she was sacrificing herself to buy Dorian the precious seconds he needed. Before the horde of demons consumed her, Aloisia found Leliana’s eyes and put as much intent into her gaze as she could. You’ve done it, Leliana, she wanted her to know. We will make this count. I will make this count. For you.

Leliana might have understood, but all too soon, she collapsed under the weight of a horde of demons, and then suddenly, their attention turned to Aloisia, to Dorian, to the amulet that was their only hope…

And just as suddenly, the room changed. The demons were gone, Inquisition agents lined the halls, and Cassandra and Solas were waiting just meters away, right alongside Grand Enchanter Fiona.

Aloisia turned her head and saw Gereon Alexius as he once was, and beside him was Felix, alive and, if not exactly well, then at least as well as could be expected for one suffering from the Blight.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian practically quipped, and Aloisia realized how things must seem to everyone besides herself and Dorian. To everyone else, nothing had happened at all. Alexius had cast a spell that Dorian had countered, and now this moment here was all that there was.

Alexius fell to his knees, and Aloisia folded her arms across her chest and widened her stance, taking on as regal and judgmental an air as she could as she literally looked down upon the broken magister. “You’re done here, Alexius. For your sake, I believe you should surrender. But please, do resist if it so pleases you,” she said with a cruel smile and as much menace as she could muster into her voice. Alexius was a pitiable man, but his threat had to be neutralized before it could grow into something awful.

“You won,” he said, the fight clearly having left him. “There is no point continuing this charade.” He looked up at the one good thing in his life, his remarkable son who still loved his father despite how far he had fallen. “Felix,” he beseeched sorrowfully.

“It’s going to be all right, father,” Felix said as he crouched down next to his father.

“You’ll die,” his father wailed.

“Everyone dies,” Felix said, stating what he believed to be a simple truth of the world.

“If only,” Aloisia whispered under her breath. Felix’s sentiment was a lovely one, especially coming from the dying young man himself, but Aloisia had seen too much to truly believe it anymore. Catching herself before she fell into too deep a mental pit, she straightened her back and looked to her agents, who were standing over the corpses of the Venatori who had been standing guard just moments ago, at least from a certain point of view. “Secure the magister in one of the upstairs guest rooms. Restrain him but do not harm him. Let his son stay with him, unbound and unharmed. Felix,” Aloisia said as she turned to the boy. “I’m sorry to have to put you under guard at all, and I truly believe you had no part of this. But we will need to question your father, and you are the entire world for him. Please, be there for him for as long as he needs. And he does need you, Felix.”

“I understand, my lady,” Felix said with such confidence and maturity that belied his youth. “Honestly, I just want to go home with my father, and even if that won’t be possible… Well, a lot has happened, and if I can do anything to prevent anything worse from happening, then I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Felix. Go with your father and the guards, and please don’t make the slightest move that could come off as even the tiniest bit antagonistic. It may just be me, but I feel like the whole world is on edge right now.”

Felix just nodded silently before following the agents who took him and his father upstairs to their temporary prison. Aloisia turned back to her people. “Agents! I have intelligence that suggests that Arl Teagan has Venatori agents hidden among his forces, and that there are mages sympathetic to Tevinter waiting in Redcliffe. Both of these groups are awaiting a signal from the magister, which should not be forthcoming anymore. Strip the Venatori until you find a uniform that fits you and is relatively clean of blood if you feel it would be helpful. Or if you don’t need to... Never mind me, you know how to do your jobs better than I do. Move swiftly and silently. Alert Arl Teagan and community leaders of the danger. Grand Enchanter Fiona, you know your people best. If you can quietly gather those mages you trust and stealthily ready them, hopefully we can mitigate the damage.

“Lastly, someone find out if King Alistair is nearby and secure his safety, and then kindly convey to him that the Blade of the Maker would like to speak with him at his earliest convenience. And get Sister Nightingale here as well, as quickly as possible. I have a great deal to discuss with both of them.”

Leliana stood in the corner of Arl Teagan’s study, her arms crossed over her chest and her head bowed as she stewed in deep contemplation. Alistair sat at the arl’s desk, and the Blade stood with her back to the closed door. She had given Leliana and her old friend a lot to think about, and her mind was racing with possibilities from what she had been told about this future without Aloisia to stop what was, essentially, the end of the world. In the here and now, the Venatori infiltrators in Arl Teagan’s army had been successfully neutralized, but Leliana worried that there might be others hidden throughout Ferelden, or possibly Orlais, or Nevarra, or anywhere at all in Thedas.

Since then, Queen Anora had taken charge of securing the safety of Redcliffe Village after her own personal safety had been assured. Alistair had wanted to include the queen in this meeting with the Blade, but while Anora could tolerate her husband semi-regularly, the sight of Leliana herself was a burden the queen did not want to bear. Part of Leliana scoffed at the immaturity of it all, but then again, was it really so immature for Anora to shun yet another reminder of the circumstances of her father’s death?

Regardless, Anora had long since proven herself to be a capable leader. Redcliffe was in good hands, and the Inquisition was standing by to assist the queen should she ask for it. For the present, Leliana and Alistair had just finished listening to the Blade recount what she had gone through with Dorian, and while the tale strained all credulity, Aloisia claimed to have proof, and she had rubbed her left wrist as she had made that claim.

Before they had gone to meet her friend of ten years, Lady Kallig had pulled Leliana aside to share with her some of her own words from this dark future, which she had brillianty recorded so as to bring back intelligence of what their enemy planned to do so they could stop him before he could implement his plans.  Her own words to herself, however, were more than a little concerning. "Leliana, if you are hearing this, know that you must never give into despair," she had heard herself say. "Even if you can see no hope, that doesn’t mean that it isn’t out there in some form just out of reach, or that you might be blinded by despair. If you are hearing this, it means the Blade of the Maker has saved us all from a fate too terrible for you to imagine. And know that for all that she is the Inquisition’s best hope, Aloisia may need you more than you realize."  It was more than a little strange, hearing her speak to herself from across time itself.  What horrors had she faced that she had felt the need to tell herself such things?  And what did her future self mean about the Blade - whom she had notably called by her given name - needing Leliana more than she presently realized?

Such thoughts would have to wait as Alistair was now receiving his own message from the future.  “A message to myself fourteen months ago?" she heard him say. "Before all of this?” Alistair’s voice said from the device on the Blade’s wrist armor. “If it’s something that I can take to the Landsmeet, or even if not… Tell me that if I’m even hearing this message, then the Blade of the Maker and her Inquisition have saved the entire fucking world simply because they’re alive and telling me this at all, and that I should help you however I can, along with whatever aid Ferelden can offer. And if I don't listen to you for whatever reason, please invite Leliana to knock some sense into me. Maker knows I sometimes need a good knock to the skull, but don't say that too close to Anora. I'd never hear the end of it.”

Aloisia made a small movement that Leliana recognized as stopping whatever else might have come after from being played back for any of them to hear. There was likely so much vital information there, but right now, they had to deal with Alistair. It was good to hear him able to keep at least a bit of good humor in spite of the horrors that the Blade had described.

Finally, Alistair straightened himself up in his chair and spoke. “While those words do sound like something that I would say, I know what I sound like, and that was most certainly not my voice that I just heard.”

“What?” Leliana asked, her head turning quickly to face her old friend. “What do you mean, Alistair? The future may have been awful, but save for the strange noise that comes with this device, it certainly did sound like you.”

“I believe I can explain this discrepancy, Your Majesty,” Aloisia said, her voice thankfully calm and level. “That is, if you prefer me to address you as such? Your future self said that hearing your title made you feel old and useless?”

“Oh, that it does,” he confirmed. “It’s just… Not to be rude, Your Worship, but we’ve only just met. Or at least, I’ve just met you, if you’re to be believed.”

Thankfully, the Blade took Alistair’s frustration in stride. “Very well, Your Majesty. Quite simply, when you speak, your voice comes from your throat and out of your mouth. When all of us hear you speak, your voice enters our ears from the outside of our bodies. But when you hear your own voice, it is coming from inside of you, so it enters your ears from the inside of your head. A proper medical text could explain it in far more detail, but I assure you, it makes a great deal of difference.”

“So that explains it,” Leliana said, having wondered herself why she sounded so different when she played back her own conversations with the Blade.

“You’ve been recording yourself, Sister Leliana?” the Blade asked.

Leliana looked up to answer, but saw something different in the Blade’s eyes than when last they had talked in private. Whatever that look was, Leliana couldn’t tell if it was something to be concerned or else relieved about. It would have to wait for later consideration. “Written notes can be stolen,” she explained. “This device ensures a certain level of privacy.” It was a lie, as Leliana found written notes to be far more familiar and comforting than this device ever would be, but hopefully it would throw off suspicion that Leliana had been secretly recording her conversations with the Blade.

Thankfully, she seemed to believe that explanation. “Well done,” she said to Leliana before turning back to Alistair. “So to answer your question, Your Majesty, you do indeed sound like that to everyone else whenever they hear your voice. If it makes you feel any better, the first time I heard my own voice in such a manner, I was quite thoroughly embarrassed.”

Alistair buried his hands in his face. “Maker, it’s a wonder the Landsmeet ever allowed me the crown at all. And if I’ve always sounded like this to Anora, it’s a miracle she hasn’t just killed me on basic principle. Despite this... No, Morrigan does not get a free pass at my expense.”

“Your future self also mentioned that name,” the Blade said. “Someone I should be worried about?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Alistair admitted as he looked up at Aloisia. “She left just after the death of the archdemon, and I haven’t heard or seen a trace of her ever since. She was an abrasive woman, especially to me, so I’m happy to place her out of my thoughts. But coming back to these Venatori, and coming back to what I seem to have said in a future that we’ve hopefully avoided. Or at least what I hope we've avoided. We've robbed this Elder One of the mages here in Redcliffe, but the possibilities regarding the Grey Wardens trouble me quite a great deal. Is it wrong of me to want to wake up screaming and pretend this is just a horrible nightmare? Can I issue a royal decree to make it a crime to mock the king's worst fears?"

"I'm afraid I'm not quite that familiar with Ferelden politics, Your Majesty," Aloisia said with a wry grin that Leliana couldn't help but share. "If I might offer a suggestion: don't make such a decree. If anything, let the people see that their ruler is just as human as they are. You'll seem less distant and it will be easier to inspire loyalty."

The king sighed and rested his chin on his right hand, propped up by an elbow on his chair’s armrest. “Maker, someone never told you when to let a joke stop before it gets old. Regardless of all of that, ’whatever aid Ferelden can offer’ sounds very much like a formal alliance between Ferelden and the Inquisition, but I’m honestly not sure what that would even look like. To be honest, a lot of people are still asking, ‘What exactly is the Inquisition?’ and I don’t have a ready answer. Some say you’re a breakaway Chantry sect, or else a cult, or a militia, or any number of other things. Whatever the Inquisition might become, at the moment it is a small organization that is still growing.”

“What is it you are trying to say, Alistair?” Leliana asked. As much as it hurt to hear the Inquisition – Justinia’s last wish that Leliana had given her all to bring to fruition – described so dismissively, she couldn’t say that he was entirely wrong. Perhaps his years ruling a nation had given him a perspective that Leliana had not expected of him? Perhaps I have not been as good or as attentive a friend as I had thought I was.

“What I’m trying to say, Leliana,” Alistair said, “is that while I would very much like to offer you whatever you might ask, this message you have shown me will seem to the Landsmeet to be merely a tale told by what some view as the figurehead of a foundling group that is trying to gain relevance. You are still doing the Divine’s work, and for that, you’ll have Haven for as long as possible. And word is spreading of the work that you have done, Your Worship, to help the people in the area surrounding Redcliffe, so some of the local Banns may back you in the Landsmeet should you request more formal aid.”

Damn it, but despite all of the hard work that she had put into the Inquisition, Alistair was right for now. The Inquisition’s only major victories in the wider scheme of things had been to reclaim Redcliffe from Tevinter – with the Inquisition merely offering aid to Ferelden, from their perspective – and averting a cataclysmic future to which there were only two witnesses that it had ever been a possibility at all. They were doing good work, but they would likely not receive any real recognition until – and if – the Blade had sealed the Breach.

“The banns’ gratitude is welcome,” the Blade said, “and I would hope that the Arl of Redcliffe would also prove a voice of thanks on the Inquisition’s behalf, but I am not here to impose upon Arl Teagan, nor upon any other Fereldan citizens or their homes, for that matter. And that brings us to what, I believe, is called the ‘elephant in the room,’ and that is the fate of the mages that you so graciously offered refuge, Your Majesty. I believe that Sister Leliana has explained their plight, that they are victims of Tevinter duplicity. Would I be wrong if I were to guess that not all of Ferelden is as sympathetic to such a tale? Perhaps they do not truly believe its veracity in the first place?”

The king let out a bark of laughter that Leliana had not expected. “The nobles of Fereldan are actually quite a bit more divided on what to do with the mages than you might expect,” Alistair said. “Then again, perhaps not. In the end, it all comes back to you, Your Worship. You have to understand how it looks. An escaped Tevinter slave, fleeing to Ferelden to perform humble acts of charity before all of a sudden being granted the unique ability to close the rifts in the Veil, and you’re also a mage who spent a fair amount of time here in Redcliffe with your fellows. While there are many who want magic of any sort as far away from Ferelden as possible, there are others who feel that any sort of punishment would be an act of blasphemy against the woman they see as the second coming of Andraste. I hope that I don’t need to remind you that Andraste being Fereldan herself – in a manner of speaking – is a keen point of pride for so many of us, here.  The Inquisition may be seen with some skepticism, but the Blade of the Maker is widely adored in Ferelden.  Although, to be fair, the line between the two is starting to blur.”

Looking to the Blade, it was evident to Leliana that Aloisia Kallig had not even thought that such a notion was a variable to be considered at all. As much as Leliana felt the need to interject herself into the discussion, she knew that she could not. For all that she had been the Left Hand of Divine Justinia and a founder of the Inquisition, Leliana understood that Aloisia was the standard-bearer. Were she to ask a random person what they thought of should she mention the Inquisition, the answer would most likely be ‘the Blade of the Maker.’ They might be a growing faction, as Alistair said, but if they were to be reckoned with at all, then they’d need a single, recognizable leader.

Maker, I’m such a fool, Leliana thought. We’re the Inquisition, and Aloisia has been leading us ever since she was dragged out of that prison cell. Even as a suspect in Dorothea’s murder, she was the one in charge. And if she is to continue to lead the Inquisition… We will need to find the right moment to announce it, but I do not think it can be denied that Aloisia must be our Inquisitor.

“Perhaps I should go back a bit, Your Majesty,” the Blade said to Alistair. “The Inquisition has been doing its best to aid the people in the surrounding hinterlands, but let me tell you why I came to Redcliffe Village in the first place. Before Alexius went mucking about with time magic, Grand Enchanter Fiona met me in Val Royeaux and extended an invitation to meet with her. Right now, the Inquisition’s main goal is to close the Breach, and for that, we need either a lot of magic or else a lot of magical suppression. Where Fiona offered an open invitation, Lord Seeker Lucius showed nothing but scorn and an overinflated ego. Before today, I had a gut feeling, but I couldn’t ask anyone to act on that alone. Now, however…”

She suspected something before now about the Lord Seeker? And she didn’t tell me?! Leliana chided herself for even thinking something so irrational. It was as the Blade said: a gut feeling could serve an agent well in the field, but it was not something to base broader strategy or policy around. So why do I feel like she’s gone behind my back? Why do I feel… Maker, do I actually feel hurt by this? What is wrong with me?!

“What is it that you are thinking, Lady Kallig?” Leliana asked, though she had to keep herself from wincing at the unintended bite that came out with her words.

The Blade spared a glance at her, but apart from a raised eyebrow, she gave no indication of surprise or disapproval or anything else at all. “I am thinking that knowing what I do now about the nature of the enemy, the Breach itself makes more sense. Assuming that the texts I saw in the future are indicative of him – and if we also assume that Varric’s tale of his adventure with Marian Hawke in the Vimmark Mountains is true to the best of his understanding – then the Elder One’s goal likely remains unchanged. The Breach was likely his attempt to enter the Black City, as he claims to have done before as one of the Magisters that became – supposedly – the very first Darkspawn. Whether sending Alexius to control the mages was part of his original plan or else a fallback due to whatever ritual I apparently interrupted, our enemy clearly had a use in mind for the mages. If so, he might have a potential use for the Templars as well.”

“What are you getting at, my lady?” Leliana asked.

“That gut feeling I mentioned, it was about Lord Seeker Lucius,” the Blade said. "Something about him seemed off in a way that is hard to explain. Cassandra claims to have known him well once upon a time, and his behavior in Val Royeaux seemed entirely out of character to her. Looking back, I wonder if he had been affected by some spell, or else possessed, or else perhaps some mage or demon or other arcane entity has taken his shape while in service to Cor- To the Elder One.

“I don’t know enough about such things to say that any of these are even possible, but we know that the Templars have left Val Royeaux under Lucius Corin’s lead,” Aloisia continued. “He made a point of leaving the city behind, and taking that one step further, he might have taken his forces out of Orlais entirely. I don’t know if he’d go to Nevarra or Ferelden. Maybe he’d go to Kirkwall for some twisted reason. All I’m saying is that we should be on the lookout for the Lord Seeker and any Templars gathered under his command. Again, this is just a gut feeling, but given that my advisors presented the mages and the Templars as the two best hopes of sealing the Breach… If I was the architect of this horrific plan, I’d want to be in control of anyone who could possibly affect my work.”

“I’ll have my agents start searching as soon as I’m able to establish contact,” Leliana said. “It is as you said. A gut feeling alone is one thing. But now that we’ve seen a deliberate effort to subvert the mages of southern Thedas, it would serve us well to be on our guard against other such attempts aimed at other groups. It is possible that the 'army of demons' that you heard of in this future were bound by the mages that you have just freed from servitude, and thus will not be a threat moving forward. All the same, we should remain on our guard. 'In peace, vigilance,' no? And Alistair, this might be a good time to take stock of which Fereldan nobles might have grievances that could drive them to listen to unsavory individuals that they might otherwise have ignored.”

Alistair nodded silently, though his eyes had widened ever so slightly, and she knew that he was suddenly very attentive. “You have good instincts, Leliana, and I’d be a fool to ignore them. I’ll see to it.”

“For that matter, your instincts are worth heeding as well, my lady,” Leliana said to the Blade, perhaps more harshly than she had intended. “In the future, please do not hesitate to share such gut feelings with me. You have a keen mind, and I do not wish for a worthy insight to turn into something worse that ends up being too late to prevent.”

The Blade’s eyes went wide, and then her head fell slightly. “That is good to know, Leliana,” she said, and the spymaster wondered at the absence of her title in the presence of the King of Ferelden. “It’s just that… I’ve grown accustomed to relying on my instincts, but I've been trying to moderate those impulses as the leader of the Inquisition. Asking refugees and pilgrims to follow me based on my gut feelings just didn’t seem right, even if my instincts have been a source of constant guidance in the most literal sense for most of my life. We will discuss this further, you have my word, Leliana.”

Again, there was the familiar use of her name. But more than that, Leliana picked up on what the Blade was trying to hide from Alistair, and from everyone else in all of Thedas besides Leliana herself. The Blade’s unique form of magic had often been described by her as ‘acting on instinct’ as opposed to more concrete, solid constructs of carefully gathered intelligence or even basic logic. If even one of her outlandish tales had a modicum of truth to it, then it had been Aloisia Kallig’s instincts and feelings that had guided her as far as she had come. If she had been keeping such feelings to herself out of fear that she wouldn’t be trusted… Maker, what have I been missing while Aloisia had been out there in the field for all this time?

Just as Leliana pondered her own familiarity, realizing that she had come to start thinking of the Blade as ‘Aloisia’ as often as she did by her proper title - Just like my future self did in that recording - the subject of her thoughts spoke up again. “But I have gotten sidetracked from the point I was trying to make. As I said, Your Majesty, I came here to meet with Grand Enchanter Fiona to gain the aid of the mages here in Redcliffe so that their power might be used to seal the Breach. If I may offer a scenario…”

The Blade cleared her throat before continuing her train of thought. “For your consideration, Your Majesty. I take the mages with me from Redcliffe to Haven, where they will be under my protection. Your people who fear the mages have them leaving their lands, and those who worry about upsetting the Blade of the Maker rest easy knowing that this is a choice that she had a part in making. Past that, the hopes of sealing the Breach for good go up that much more, and all of Ferelden will soon be able to rest easier without a hole in the sky hanging over their heads, and your people look to their king with admiration for coming to such a fortuitous solution.”

“Do you really think it will be that simple?” Alistair asked.

“In broad strokes, yes,” Aloisia said bluntly. “It will require work on all our parts, but with the right efforts of persuasion aimed in the right directions, I think it’s quite a realistic outcome. As to what comes next, with the mages’ freedom will come the need for guidance. Senior mages of experience will be essential to train the next generation in emotional control, as well as establishing groups for distressed mages to go for comfort. Such efforts will have the long term impact of reducing the risk of possession and misuse of magic, as well as prepare the younger mages to take charge of a similar approach when they are in the position their seniors are in today.”

“Just so I understand you correctly,” Alistair said, “you are proposing that the Circles of Magi not be reformed at all?”

“Just so, Your Majesty. And that is where I need your help,” Aloisia said. Leliana was watching and listening eagerly. She had known of the Blade’s hopes for a better Thedas, but now they would be put to the test with one of the leaders of the world. “From what I understand, demonic possession happens to those who lust for power, those who lack emotional control, and those who are driven to utter desperation. The first of these needs to be watched for by all people, but the second and third such individuals can avert such a fate entirely merely by learning the truth about their nature from an open and accepting population – especially from their own families – and from genuine communal support to avoid their emotions compromising them and leading them down a dark path.

“Not to put too fine a point on it, Your Majesty, but imagine how different things might have been during the Fifth Blight if Connor Guerrin hadn’t needed to fear being taken away from his family, and if Arl Eamon had embraced him for who and what he was. If his parents had taught him – or else hired someone with the requisite knowledge to tutor him – about the nature of demons and how they prey on the desperate, then might he not be living a happier life today? He still bears a great deal of guilt for what happened ten years ago, most of it being entirely self-inflicted. Today, he has a Circle education, but imagine if his parents had been able to teach him what he needed to know? What if he could have learned about being a mage and been able to stay with parents who loved him at the same time?”

It was a good presentation, Leliana thought, and while invoking the plight of Arl Eamon a decade ago was a risk - particularly his 'flaw' of piety - it was one that she believed would cause Alistair to listen more attentively, not less. And by the look on his face, Leliana believed that she was right. Alistair was shaking his head and chuckling humorlessly. “It’s a very pretty picture you paint, I’ll give you that. What might Solana and I have been like if I had been able to know her family? Maker, not even that. What if she had simply been able to know her own family and still become the great mage – the great woman – that I fell in love with? It’s a lovely thought, but the Chantry has spent too long instilling the fear of magic into every man, woman, and child in Thedas.”

“Which is why now is the perfect time to bring about such change,” the Blade said. “If the Chantry is a problem, then fix the problem.”

“What?” Leliana couldn’t help but gasp out. Surely, she hadn’t heard that right, had she?

The Blade let out a small sigh. “The Chantry has been a dammed up river that has been teetering on the edge of bursting for centuries.  Now that it has, the organization is leaderless and without a great deal of its upper hierarchy. Now is the perfect time to… Well, perhaps removing the Chantry entirely would be too big and too radical a change to start with. But there are other solutions to such a restrictive institution. As I understand it, no mortal mind can possibly hope to know the will of the Maker, and it was mortal minds that founded and maintained the Chantry for all these years, yes? Perhaps this moment of conflict is a sign that the Chantry needs to change to keep up with the world that is changing all around it, and I don’t see why you can’t help with that, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, you’ll get no argument from me that the Chantry’s caused more problems than it’s solved,” Alistair said, “but ask any ordinary citizen, and they’d call you a heretic for even thinking such things. And besides, I’m not a clergyman at all. What can I do about the Chantry?”

“You can take it and make it your own,” the Blade said to Leliana’s shock. “Rather... How do I put this? When I think of the Chantry, my mind immediately goes to Orlais. I can’t speak for the rest of the world, but were I to ask any ordinary Fereldan, I would wager that they would rather disassociate from Orlais as much as they can. The Chantry you all know might as well be called the Orlesian Chantry, just as the Tevinter Imperium has its own Chantry. I’m not saying that you should break away from Andraste’s teachings entirely, as there are some good lessons to be found there.  But maybe you could take the Chant of Light and aim its focus in a direction closer to home?

“With Ferelden-born clerics, you could focus the Maker’s teachings through a Fereldan lens. You mentioned pride in Andraste being born of Fereldan, so make it a point of pride in a Fereldan Chantry. You don’t have to actually change the Chant itself, but you can change how the people of Ferelden interpret it. Just because the Grand Clerics in Orlais say that things have to be one way, why should their way be the only one? The Maker gave his second children the gift of imagination, the ability to learn about the world around them and to question it. Why would He want His children to limit the use of His gift to them in such a way?”

Alistair got to his feet and began to pace the room frantically. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? I can’t just change the Chantry! If I did as you seem to be suggesting, all of Ferelden would be excommunicated!”

“By whom?” Aloisia countered. “We’re currently without a Divine, but let’s say it did come to the next Divine excommunicating the entire nation of Ferelden. Would the people stop believing? Would they stop looking for guidance from Andraste’s teachings? Some in Thedas might view Ferelden with scorn, but every culture has its own worth that only its own people can determine. If a Divine – sitting on a throne in Orlais – believes that Ferelden isn’t worth her time, then look to the faithful within Ferelden and find someone worthy of leading the flock within your borders. Make her the Divine of Ferelden’s own Chantry. Or make him Divine. Or do something entirely different with your clergy altogether. Create a faith that caters to the needs of your people without the need to bow to anyone else who would see Fereldan subservient based on their faith or anything else at all.

“And if a Ferelden Chantry chooses to direct its attention to the words of Andraste that magic is a gift from the Maker, meant to serve one’s neighbors and countrymen, such a path might lead to that pretty picture we talked about coming off of the canvas and into reality.”

Leliana found herself forced to listen silently in horror. Maker, I knew she didn’t particularly care for Orlais, or for the Chantry, but this! This is not what I had in mind. This cannot have been what Justinia wanted! And yet, the Blade is right when she says that the Chantry has failed in so many ways, despite the efforts of good men and women. But if Alistair listens to this fool notion… Every nation in Thedas would have its own version of the Chantry! Maybe they would eventually have their own version of the Chant itself!

And then, as if her mind was at war with itself, another voice inside Leliana’s head rose to answer those thoughts she had just had. But what really is the true Chant of Light? Do you, yourself, not want to restore the Canticle of Shartan? And what of the dissonant verses that paint Maferath as a penitent sinner? Scholars still debate those verses, even if they have been stricken from the Chant. Who are you to say what is proper to pass down and what is not? Were any of those past Divines who changed the Chant to fit their own agendas in the right? And they did change the Chant, so what is one more change? Besides, was it not the Chant as it has been taught for centuries that led us to this crisis in the first place?

Leliana shook her head as if to banish the blasphemous thought. Of course not! The Chantry might be to blame, but the Chant itself contains Andraste’s real teachings. And then a cold laugh echoed inside her mind. Oh, yes, of course. It was Andraste who taught that mages should be locked up and imprisoned. She taught us to fear magic, that so-called ‘gift’ from the Maker. It was Andraste who taught us to belittle elves and to shun dwarves, no? And why should we doubt any of this? It is all of it written plain as day in the Chant of Light, if only one chooses to interpret it that way.

And there was the Blade’s real point, her true intent once again hidden in the heat of the moment. “Alistair,” Leliana said. “I do not claim any special knowledge, but I believe what the Blade is trying to say is that while the Chant of Light may come from Andraste, the teachings of the Chantry come from mortal men and women, and are therefore fallible. She is not saying that you need to cut ties with the Chantry entirely. Merely that you take an active role in communicating with the Fereldan clergy as how best to interpret the Maker’s teachings in a way that better serves all of Ferelden’s people. Those other, more extreme steps that the Blade spoke of… Those are but a last resort should such interpretations be met with an overreaction.”

“Thank you, Leliana,” Aloisia said with a smile and a polite nod of her head. Leliana was relieved to know that she was on the same page as Aloisia, but there it was again. Both of them had taken to referring to the other – either aloud or in the privacy of their thoughts – with growing familiarity.

Alistair was silent for what felt like ages before he finally stopped pacing and took a deep breath. “I will consider your suggestion,” he said. “That is, I will consider it very carefully, taking my sweet time and asking people far smarter and more devout than I if this is at all worth pursuing, but I will think about it.”

The Blade smiled, and the way it reached her eyes lit up her face like Leliana hadn’t truly seen before. Maker, but she truly is beautiful. I wonder if she realizes this about herself.

“I have come to realize that it is only the most arrogant and foolish person who believes that they alone have all the answers. Knowing your limits, seeking counsel where you need it,” Aloisia said to Alistair. “I hope it isn’t too bold of me to say, Your Majesty, but I believe these limits you are setting upon yourself are exactly the kinds of things that make a truly great leader.”

Alistair allowed himself a small smile in return. “Hold that thought and then say it again in front of Anora. All the times I ask her advice are what make me a good king. Isn’t it wonderful how that turns out?”

“I’ll be sure to strike the right tone of flattery and condescension when speaking of you to the Queen,” the Blade said. “I wouldn’t want her to get suspicious, after all.”

“Indeed not,” Leliana said, her own lips turning slightly upward. “Now, if that’s all done with, I think we should arrange for some sort of official announcement with the two of you and Grand Enchanter Fiona. And if your men haven’t already done so, Magister Alexius is waiting to be remanded into your custody.”

“That being said,” Aloisia interjected, “I would ask that no harm come to his son, Felix. The boy has done nothing wrong, and even helped us to stop his father’s plans. It was desperation for the sake of his son that drove the magister to such lengths, and if any harm comes to Felix, then he will quite happily die before telling you anything worth knowing.”

“I’ll be sure to make the necessary arrangements for both the prisoner exchange and the formal announcement about the mages,” Alistair said.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Aloisia said. “Before we wrap things up here, there is one more thing that I would very much like to ask the both of you. As I understand it, the two of you fought alongside Solana Amell during the Battle of Denerim against the Archdemon. If that is the case, then does Ferelden have any equipment capable of hitting a large, flying target? If so, I would like to negotiate on behalf of the Inquisition for schematics and engineers to build such weapons as a defense against the blighted dragon your future self believed to be under the enemy's command."

Leliana was about to interject that it really should be Josie doing any negotiations, but the Blade was already moving on like the leader she always had been. "But that can wait until after things here in Redcliffe have settled down into a more permanent and comfortable conclusion," Aloisia said. "As things stand right now, I would hate to impose on Arl Teagan’s hospitality any longer than I already have, so with your permission, I will seek out arrangements to stay in town and have myself a much needed bath so that I both look and feel presentable for our joint announcement.

“And after that,” the Blade said as she stretched her arms above her head, “I’d like to ask you where I can find a ferry to cross Lake Calenhad. I’ve a meeting to attend to on the Storm Coast while the mages make themselves at home in Haven. Once that is over and done with, then we can finally see about closing the Breach once and for all.”

Chapter Text

Aloisia inhaled and held her breath for a few moments before exhaling, enjoying the smell of the sea air and the feel of the breeze on her face.  Despite that the sun was hiding behind the clouds, the Storm Coast did have its own appeal.  Lake Calenhad couldn’t quite compete to the Waking Sea as far as reminding Aloisia of the endless waters of Manaan, where Lana had first introduced her to Theron Shan, and it was definitely a pleasant reminder.   The bedrock of the Alliance had been founded between the three of them on that ocean world, even if none of them had realized it at the time.

To get to the Storm Coast from the ferry across Lake Calenhad, Aloisia had urged her companions to push their mounts, but not too much.  They’d need their energy to take them back, along with whomever they might be picking up during this trip.  Aloisia had decided to bring Varric and Sera with her in the hopes that they would be able to spot details that Aloisia herself might miss, especially if the Bull’s Chargers decided to start talking casually.  It would be easier for them to open up to someone who wasn’t in charge.

‘Warden’ Blackwall was also accompanying them, mostly so that Aloisia could get a better feel for the man as a warrior and a person.  He seemed able enough, and his intentions seemed good enough, but he was still hiding something.  She had let slip to him how she’d heard that Wardens can sometimes hear voices or music that relate to the Blight in some way, but ‘Blackwall’ had denied falling victim to any such influence.  Further proof that he wasn’t a Grey Warden.  Unless his reasons for keeping this secret became a threat to the Inquisition, Aloisia would let him continue his deception.  Cullen’s men found him inspiring, at a minimum.

Last of Aloisia’s traveling companions was Dorian.  He had proven capable and trustworthy, if rather more verbose than she might like after their encounter with the dark future they had escaped from together.  Thankfully, he had been better about holding his tongue since they had returned to the present day and rejoined the company of others who didn’t need to know what Dorian knew.

While Aloisia and her team made to meet with Iron Bull and his mercenary company, the rest of the Inquisition had taken their new mage allies and were hopefully at Haven by now.  Leliana would stay in touch with King Alistair, who had promised to send schematics and engineers for ballistae that could – hopefully – bring down a dragon before it could get too close.  In addition to the trebuchets that had been taken from the villa in the Hinterlands, Haven would hopefully be slightly more defensible than it had been before Conclave, at least from an outside assault, and Leliana was ever vigilant for infiltration.

And that particular task of Leliana’s had been the main reason why Solas was not accompanying Aloisia on this mission in particular.  After her encounter with his future-persona, she did not trust herself to maintain a level head around him, nor to keep the secrets that she needed to keep.  Bringing Dorian with her also maintained a level of security, if only so that she could keep a close eye on him.  As for Cassandra, she would be needed to help organize the Inquisition’s forces and its structure when the bulk of the mages arrived and needed living arrangements.  It would also hopefully serve to avoid any confrontations between a Chantry Seeker and a Qunari spy.

“Hey! Your Bladeyship,” Sera called, bringing a smile to Aloisia’s lips.  She’d insisted that Sera call her by her name, but the elven archer liked her funny nicknames, if not quite as consistently as Varric.  “I think I see one of your scouts up ahead.  Pretty dwarf, armor like yours.  Ring any bells?”

“Armor like mine?” Aloisia asked.  There shouldn’t be anyone wearing armor like hers, given that her armor was literally not of this world.

“Sorta, I guess? Just what I think I see.  Oi!” Sera called, waving her hand towards some foliage up ahead.

Sure enough, Scout Lace Harding emerged from hiding, and she was wearing new armor.  The color scheme was similar to Aloisia’s own, as was the design of the armor with where the body was covered and which parts were left bare for better movement.  The ornamentation, however, was limited to a flaming orange Inquisition emblem, the flaming sword pointing downward through a half-open eye.

“Your Worship,” Harding said as Aloisia and her party drew closer.  “I’m going to need to take a note about the keenness of elven eyesight.  That was embarrassing.”

“Ugh!” Sera grunted in reply.  “Just friggin’ great.  I see a person, and it’s thanks to being all elfy.  Just what I need.”

“Easy, people,” Aloisia said.  “Sera, if it helps, don’t think of it as an elf thing.  Just think of it as a ‘you’ thing that helps you do what you can for the little people.  I’m sure everyone who has ever sought your aid hasn’t given a damn about your race, just what you can do to help them.  So think like the people you help, if nothing else.”

“That’s…  Ugh!  Why do you have to make sense, Aloisia?!” Sera said.  “Stupid sense making everything harder.  And I want everything to go back to normal and make sense, which is just…”

“Take a breather, Sera.  We may have need for your arrows in a bit.  Simpler right?”  Before waiting for Sera to reply, Aloisia dismounted her horse and led it toward Scout Harding, who guided them all to a small campsite.  “Good to see you again, Scout Harding.  So, a few things.  What’s the situation here on the Storm Coast?  What’s the status of the Bull’s Chargers?  And please do tell me about that armor and how you came by it.”

“Good to see you as well, Your Worship,” Harding said.  “When news reached us from Redcliffe, it was a pretty big shock to learn what had been happening right beneath our noses.  But of course, that came with the relief that you managed to handle everything there and come away with allies.  But as for things here?  It’s been rough.  We’re not exactly an army here, and there’s a well-armed and well-supplied group of bandits that have been harrying us wherever we go.  I’d guess they have a base of operations that’s at least somewhat well-fortified.  I sent Scout Denning ahead to try to negotiate with them, but I haven’t heard back from him.  Human man, a Fereldan, but looks like he might have Rivaini blood, just in case you run into him.”

Aloisia nodded, waited for any of her companions to speak up, but they seemed to either have nothing to say or else were taking this as a ‘Blade of the Maker speaks for the Inquisition’ moment.  From what she had learned about this world, ‘Rivaini blood’ was a way to indicate a darker skin tone.  Given its proximity to Josephine’s home of Antiva, it was probably a climate-related evolution resulting from being closer to the equator.  But that could wait, as there were more pressing matters at hand.  “And the Bull’s Chargers?” she inquired.

“For a while, they were fighting some smugglers on the coast.  From what we could tell, it looked like they were fighting Tevinters, but they weren’t wearing Imperium uniforms,” Harding relayed.  “This could be related to that cult you ran into in Redcliffe.  If so, then they may be even more widespread than just along Lake Calenhad.  Anyway, after the Chargers – that’s the Bull’s Chargers, the name of the mercenary company – were done with the smugglers, they fought a few darkspawn that had crept up close by.  Word from our own people is that there might be an entrance to the Deep Roads somewhere nearby, so be ready for darkspawn coming out of the ground.”

Aloisia nodded, wondering if the darkspawn presence here was coincidence or part of something more sinister.  Best to ask someone who knew the lay of the land.  “Do you think the darkspawn presence here is a coincidence, Scout Harding, or do you think there might be some hidden connection to our enemies, or else to the Bull’s Chargers themselves?”

“Coincidence is most likely, Your Worship,” Harding said, and thankfully her voice held no condescension as if she were talking down to someone who should know better.  “Blights are rare things, but darkspawn are always around, and they’re most likely to come from the Deep Roads.  We didn’t know about the entrance nearby until recently, and we’re still working on verifying that information.  My guess is that it’s just plain bad luck that we happened across them.  I’ve spread the word to keep weapons and armor clean to avoid spreading the taint.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Scout Harding,” Aloisia said.  “Are the Bull’s Chargers still fighting darkspawn?”

“Actually, Your Worship, they’ve been in contact with us for a while.  They wanted to join up with the Inquisition, and I gave one of their people directions to Haven and a letter of introduction so that they would be met without a blade to their throat,” Harding said.  “He’s since returned, and the Chargers have offered to scout ahead to find where those bandits are stationed.  When they heard you were on your way, they said they’d be waiting here,” Harding said as she pulled out a map of the area and marked the meeting place along with the location of their current camp.

Aloisia examined the map and passed it around to her comrades for them to memorize before they furled it up and packed it away.  “Excellent work, Scout Harding,” she said.  “Now, about this new armor of yours.  I’m more than a little curious as to how you came by it.”

Harding’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and Aloisia could sense fear rising inside of her.  “I…  I didn’t realize you’d take offense, Your Worship.  But, if you want an explanation-“

“Calm down, Scout Harding,” Aloisia said, softening her own voice.  “I’m not offended, but my armor is one of the things that distinguishes me as word spreads.  What you're wearing is not quite the same as my own armor, and you are clearly identifiable as a member of the Inquisition.  That being said, I take great pride in my armor, as it has kept me alive for quite a while.  If we have a smith in our service who is able to produce such protection for our people, then I should very much like to know of them.”

Harding took a deep breath.  “Thank you, Your Worship.  As for the armorer, one of the more recent refugees was a smith that Harritt took under his wing, and she seemed inspired by your armor.  She made these plates out of a mixture of ceramics that hardened to be as tough as any metal plate, and the leather in the joints allow for flexibility while still offering protection.  I think she was looking to mass produce after a successful field test.  And, um…  I think she might be using me for that test?  I’m not sure, she wasn’t as clear as I would have liked.”

“At ease, Harding.  Take a breath,” Aloisia said, hoping to reassure the very able scout.  “At some point, I’d very much like for you to introduce me to this smith.  Or at least get a name so that I can seek her out myself.  And as for this armor, how does it hold up?  You’re one of my best people, Harding, and I don’t want you risking yourself with untested armor if it can be helped.”

Harding’s eyes widened again, but now Aloisia felt a sense of relief and pride from the woman.  “Thank you, Your Worship.  And the armor is a dream, far less clunky than metal armor, and not as loud nor as unwieldy.  It takes a bit of getting used to, but it’s surprisingly lighter than I expected.  Best of all, enemy mages can’t use electricity spells to get the better of me, at least not as easily.  I didn’t get a name out of her, and I would have remembered if I had.  This sort of armor, I wouldn’t forget who made it.”

Aloisia nodded, satisfied for now.  Harding was selling herself at least a little bit short, given that her job as a scout required her to memorize every detail she encountered.  Still, a scout wasn’t an interrogator, so she couldn’t blame her for this.  “Very good, Scout Harding.  Send word to Haven to let Sister Nightingale know that we’ve arrived, and that we’re on our way to rendezvous with the Bull’s Chargers.  Unless there’s anything else we need to know, we’ll be on our way.”

Harding nodded.  “Only thing I can think of is that the Bull’s Chargers would be a great asset, from what I’ve seen of them.  A pretty diverse group, but very effective at getting the job done.  They looked like the sort of band of brothers and sisters that only come from a lot of close encounters together.  My only advice would be ‘don’t try to separate them from each other.’”

Harding’s words brought a torrent of memories rushing into Aloisia’s mind of her time leading the Alliance, with spirited debates with her advisors that would devolve into raucous laughter when someone inevitably went off-topic.  Oggurobb would go on a tangent about his newest invention, and Hylo would tell him to shut his yapper already, only for Sana-Rae to speak of how it actually related to a vision she had.  Bey’wan would just sit down and take pain meds to stave off the inevitable headache, as he mostly wanted something to hit or someone to shoot at, or at least a fight with tactics to devise or supply runs to coordinate.

“A band of brothers and sisters,” Aloisia thought to her wife.  “Remind me how you ever put up with all of our advisors again?  How did you ever manage to keep them on task?”

“Oh, they were easy enough to manage,” Lana replied, a smile in her voice.  “My mind went more in the direction of the pre-Odessen days with just you, me, Koth, and HK.  Just the three of us extracting you from the Spire, then making the Gravestone space-worthy again in that miserable swamp.  And oh, yes.  Fighting off skytroopers.  Force, there was never any end to those things, was there?”

Aloisia noticed that Lana had stopped short of all of their pre-Odessen companions.  Senya had committed to taking down her brutal tyrant of a son, only to try and save him at the last minute on some fool notion that he was worth saving after all that he’d done to the galaxy.  And SCORPIO’s deception was an entire level of betrayal all her own.  At least T7-01 had stuck it out with them.  It was easy to forget the little astromech droid, but that was what let him work so well, blending in on Zakuul and never drawing attention to himself.  As for Koth Vortena, the man had helped to rescue her from Arcann's carbonite prison, and he'd helped to get the Gravestone functional.  Alas, the man believed that his Immortal Emperor could do no wrong, and when told that he had devoured billions of Imperial citizens on Ziost, his only concern had been Zakuul's stability.  Aloisia had exiled him the moment things were operational on Odessen, and she might have killed him if not for the gratitude she felt for his aid in rescuing her.

“Red?  Red?!  You still in there?”

Aloisia shook her head and realized that Varric was trying to get her attention.  “Yes.  Sorry, everyone.  Would you believe me if I said I was just hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia?”

“That depends, I suppose,” Dorian said.  “Nostalgia for what?”

Aloisia smiled.  “A band of brothers and sisters, inseparable from working together.”  Until the inevitable separation, of course, she thought to herself.

“You mean we’re not your first such choice?” Dorian said in mock outrage.  “I’m a sloppy second.  I shall never live it down, and it’s entirely your fault, you horrible woman, you.”

“Oh, shut it, Dorian,” Blackwall said.  “You were thinking about the slaves you helped lead to freedom, right?” he asked.  “That sounds like the kind of experience that binds people together in such a way.”

In some small sense, Aloisia could say that yes, she had freed slaves in the sense that she’d destroyed the Emperor’s hold on Zakuul, even if she’d fallen short with the Sith Empire.  The people who had helped her along the way however…  “That’s it, exactly.  Thank you, Warden Blackwall.  And my apologies for standing about gawping and keeping you from your duties, Scout Harding.  As you were.  Come on, everyone.  We’ve got a rendezvous to get to.”

“Finally!” Sera said.  “Let’s move already, yeah?”

And so, they moved.  Trotting their horses down some paths and up a few hills, Aloisia noticed that they had passed a few scattered corpses along the way, usually in groups of three to six people.  Their armor varied, but they all wore blue fabric over their armor, and a stylized Blade of Mercy was stitched into the cloth.

As they approached the top of the hill they were now ascending, Aloisia heard sounds of fighting up ahead.  “Fighting ahead.  Everyone, dismount and arm up!” she cried.  Bringing her horse to a halt, Aloisia slid off her saddle as gracefully as possible and drew her steel sword.  This was not an emergency, at least not yet, so there was no need to go waving about her lightsaber and drawing unnecessary attention.

A band of about ten men and women with the in blue were engaged in a melee against a group of irregulars of some sort.  They wore no standard armor, but they all clearly worked together as a cohesive unit.  Said unity was actually palpable in the Force.  There were three human men, two elven women, a dwarven man, and a giant horned man with an almost entirely bare torso who could only be a Qunari.  Iron Bull, Aloisia presumed, and the rest must be the Bull’s Chargers.  They were standing between the attackers and a small wooden shack looking out over the sea at the top of the hill.

“Inquistion!  To me!” Aloisia cried as she charged towards the group attacking the Chargers.  If these were agents of the Qun – or even if just one of them was – she didn’t want to show off everything she could do just yet.  But if Iron Bull was a half-decent spy, he’d already know what she was capable of.  Still, knowing a thing and seeing it firsthand were very different.

Relying on her steel sword, Aloisia found herself resolving to ask Commander Cullen to let her get in some practice with his other recruits.  She did rely a great deal on the Force over her swordsmanship, and it would be good to get the practice in, and it might inspire morale to see the Blade of the Maker training alongside the rank and file.  As it was, she was able to counter enemy blades with ease, the Force guiding her blade to exactly where it needed to be.

Blackwall joined her in the midst of the fray, standing stalwart behind his shield.  Sera’s true aim felled a number of the enemy with ease, and Varric’s marvelous crossbow let out a flurry of high-impact bolts that didn’t give the enemy a moment of respite.  Meanwhile, Dorian focused on maintaining a magical barrier over them all to mitigate any wayward blows that might otherwise have been a bother, or worse.

As Aloisia and her team were fighting, the Chargers seemed to take a read of their new allies and adapted with marvelous ease.  Where Aloisia and her team were weak, the Chargers covered them.  When her team made an opening, a Charger was ready to exploit it.  And the hulking Qunari was facing three men all on his own, a massive, two-handed battle axe keeping them at bay with nothing short of pure carnage.

Armor was rent, blood was spilled, and before long, the skirmish was over, with the enemy all defeated and no fatalities from the Inquisition or from the Chargers.  One of the human men in the mercenary group was already tending to some minor wounds, but it didn’t look like anything serious.  The Qunari let out a sigh of contentment – or else something more pleasurable than mere contentment – and looked to his people.  “Chargers!  Stand down.  Krem, how’d we do?” he said to his men, then specifically to one of his people.

“Grim was nicked in the shoulder.  Stitches is seeing to him.  Other than that, no injuries and no dead.  At least, none of ours,” Krem said.  This had to be Cremisius Aclassi, the lieutenant who had received a harsh treatment at the hands of Aloisia’s people.

“That’s what I like to hear!” the Qunari said.  “All the same, you and the others cut their throats just to be sure.  I’ll be thanking our new friends over here.”

“Right away, chief,” Aclassi said before organizing the remainder of the unit to ensure that the dead were actually dead.

Aloisia sheathed her sword and gestured for her own people to take a breather while she negotiated with the Qunari.  This seemed best handled one on one.  As she approached, the horned giant looked at her, and she noticed that his left eye was covered with an eyepatch.  Whether it was an actual injury or else just a means of intimidation, it would be the height of hubris to believe he was at all handicapped by not being able to see out of one eye.  Most likely, it was meant to make his opponents underestimate him and approach him from his supposed blind spot to an untimely end.

With his battle axe strapped once more to his back, he approached Aloisia.  “So, you’re with the Inquisition,” he said as casually as anything.  “One of your men is in the hut back there.  My boys patched him up after his negotiations didn’t go so well.  If you want to see him-“

“Not just yet, but thank you, regardless,” Aloisia said.  “Iron Bull, I take it?  You lead a good group, here.”

“Yeah, the horns are usually a dead giveaway.  And my boys and girls, they’re the best,” he said proudly as Aclassi returned to Iron Bull’s side.  “This is Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aloisia said as she turned to face the young man.  “Mister Aclassi, on behalf of the Inquisition, I’d like to apologize for the less-than-hospitable treatment that I’m told you received from my advisors in my absence.  The Breach has us all on edge, and some of my people are more fervent in their endeavors than might be preferable.  Regardless, I apologize on behalf of my people.”

Aclassi looked suddenly nervous.  “Oh, that’s…  That’s nothing, Your Worship. It’s fine.  Ehem… Throat-cutting’s done with, chief.  You want us to double-check?  They may not be Imperium, but there might be a mage hiding among them.”

“Better safe than sorry, I agree.  Thanks, Krem,” Iron Bull said, again so very casually.

“All right, then, chief.  Your Worship,” Aclassi said with a small bow of his head as he moved back to see to his work.

“So,” Iron Bull said to Aloisia, “you’ve seen us fight now, and soon you’ll see your man safe and healing.  We’re expensive, but we’re worth it.  And I’m sure the Inquisition can afford us.  Or is it you, personally, who’d be paying?  You did refer to the Inquisition as ‘your people.’  Something I should know about you?”

“That depends,” Aloisia said, crossing her arms reflexively.  “You asked for this meeting.  You’ve probably heard of me.  Why don’t you tell me what you know and I’ll let you know if there’s anything else you should know.”

“Fair enough,” Iron Bull said.  “You’re supposedly the one with the magic on her hand that can close the rifts, and maybe even the Breach itself.  Those metal cylinders on your belt are supposedly blades of fire just waiting to ignite, and while I saw you fight with a sword, it’s obviously not your best skill, given what I’ve heard you accomplish with your magic.  You helped bring some small stability to southern Ferelden, and you just dealt a Vint cult a crippling blow in Redcliffe a few days ago.”

Aloisia hadn’t known that word of her victory at Redcliffe would have spread quite so quickly, but she shouldn’t have been surprised.  “All true,” she said as she inclined her head respectfully.  “But then, I’d expect no less from a Ben-Hassrath operative.  As I said, I truly am sorry for how your lieutenant was treated, but I do find that it’s a good idea to know who you’re meeting before you meet them.”

Iron Bull did not refute her accusation, but merely shrugged and gestured with her to follow.  “Yeah, I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t figured that out.  These bandits or whatever they are, they're organized.  Your people set up camp in this shack here, but there’s only one left, and he’s healing right now.  We left all of the intelligence and other items they gathered untouched.”

“I appreciate the courtesy,” Aloisia said, but if he was at all decent at his job, he’d know the contents of that shack inside and out, regardless.  “So, I imagine one of my people will handle the coin for hiring the Chargers - my people being the Inquisition, so dealing with me is dealing with them - and your people look like they can handle themselves.  And isn’t it just so very interesting how a fight broke out here not moments before my people and I showed up to bear witness?”

Bull didn’t answer directly, but he did smile.  “Yeah.  Funny how that worked out, huh?  And if you sign the Chargers, you get me as well.  You need a frontline bodyguard?  I’m your man.  Demons, dragons…  The bigger the better.  The Iron Bull takes all comers head-on.”

“I’m sure he does,” Aloisia said with a wry smile, though inwardly she was very wary.  This man made sure to give off an air of casualness, but his surface thoughts were so keenly guarded that she had no idea what he really thought of anything, and any attempt to pry with the Force would surely put him on guard or worse.  “So, we get a quality mercenary company, and a leader who can trust in his men enough to join me personally in the thick of battle.  You’re good, but you’re not unique in that regard.  What’s the last bit of bait you’re dying to hook me with?"

Iron Bull smiled, and it was enough to reach his eye and light up his face, which put Aloisia even more on guard.  “You know I’m Ben-Hassrath.  Saves me a lengthy explanation.  Long story short: my superiors are concerned about the Breach.  Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere.  I’ve been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge, and send reports back on what’s happening.  On the other hand, I also get reports from other Ben-Hassrath agents throughout Thedas, mostly in Orlais.  You sign me on, I’ll share them with you and your people.”

It was a tempting offer, and Aloisia knew that she couldn’t refuse it.  If she did, the Qunari would find a way to get their agents into the Inquisition, and they'd be nearly impossible to detect.  That being said, just because Iron Bull was approaching her openly didn’t mean he was the only agent of the Qun working on getting into the Inquisition.  Iron Bull wanted to get close to the leadership, but who might be infiltrating the soldiers and the servants and the spies and the craftsmen?

“What exactly would you be reporting back to your superiors?” Aloisia asked.  “You understand that I’m going to insist that anything you send be checked for compromising information.”

“Oh, yeah. I get that,” Iron Bull said.  “Mostly, I just want to satisfy the higher-ups and convince them that they don’t need to launch an invasion to bring the south into order.  Magic like the Breach has that effect on some people, and I think it’d be best if it didn’t come to that.  Or don’t you agree?”

“Oh, by all means,” Aloisia said.  “Send your superiors all the proof you need that the Inquisition is trying to restore order rather than trying to spread chaos.  I do hope that will mollify your people.  And if you truly are willing to share Qunari intelligence…  Well, information is a very valuable currency, and I’d rather have more of it than less.  I’m sure your superiors can relate to that sentiment.”

“Yup, pretty sure they can,” Iron Bull said.  “So.  Do we have a deal?”

“I think we do,” Aloisia said as she extended her right hand.  Iron Bull smiled and grasped her forearm with his own, and they clasped their fingers to seal the deal.

“Awesome!” Bull said like a child getting a present.  “Now then, I’ll keep a watch out here while you go look around inside.  Tend to your man, look around at what your people have found, and I’ll introduce my boys to your people here.”

“Sounds good to me,” Aloisia said as she gestured for her companions to come over and join the newly-formed partnership.  Sera, Varric, and Blackwall looked perfectly content to meet the newcomers, but Dorian made his way over to Aloisia instead.

As he approached, she could sense the worry rolling off of him.  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Aloisia?”

“Of course, I am.  Why ever wouldn’t I be?” she said cheerfully.  In truth, she wasn’t sure at all, but she had no idea who was listening.  “Look, I know that the Imperium and the Qunari aren’t the best of friends, to say the least, but if it helps any, just mingle with the others.  They look like they have a mage among them.  Looks Dalish to me.  Maybe if you’re very nice, and if she’s also very nice, you might be able to learn a thing or two from each other.”

“Maybe,” Dorian conceded.  “If you don’t mind, I’d rather not be near the center of all the attention.  I know, there must be something horribly wrong with me.  Call it seeking comfort in the company of someone with whom I’ve shared a truly unique experience.”

Aloisia sighed.  “Fair enough.  Supposedly, we have a man inside on the mend.  I don’t know if you’re skilled in healing magic at all, but if you can do anything for him, then please do so.  And a second pair of eyes can’t hurt when looking at all the intelligence that’s waiting inside.  Follow me, then.”

So saying, Aloisia led Dorian into the shack and stopped to crouch by a scout lying on a bedroll.  When he saw Aloisia he tried to sit up.  “Easy, man,” she said, putting a hand on his shoulder to gently urge him back down.  “It’s all right.  We’re here to help.  Scout Denning is it?  Scout Harding said you came out here a while back trying to find out what these bandits were after.  How are you holding up?  Have the Bull’s Chargers treated you well?”

Denning took a few breaths before lying back and holding still.  “Aye, Your Worship.  They rescued me from near certain death at those fanatics’ hands.  They brought me here, where I’d set up camp beforehand, and they’ve been helping me recover.  I may need help getting back to Haven, but I think I can get back.”

“That’s good to hear, Scout Denning,” Aloisia said.  “Do you have a first name?  Where are you from?”

Denning’s eyes widened.  “Patrick, Your Worship.  Born in Rivain, but moved to Ferelden before I could recognize the place.  Grew up in Denerim.  I remember when the Archdemon attacked, I felt so helpless.  I joined the Inquisition so that nobody would ever have to feel as powerless as I did back then.  I don’t know that I’ve managed quite that much, but I did learn something about these bandits, only they’re not quite bandits, exactly.”

“Shh.  Don’t strain yourself, Patrick,” Aloisia said.  “This here is Dorian.  He’s a mage recently come to our cause.  Dorian, is there anything you can do to help this man?”

“That depends,” Dorian said.  “While I am talented in my own school of magic, healing is not among my specialties.  I do know how to dull pain, however, so if you can tell me where it hurts, then I can help you out with that, at least for a little while.”

“I’d be much obliged, good sir,” Patrick Denning said.  “They got me in the left leg.  Up here,” he said, gesturing to the outside of his left thigh.  “Makes walking a pain in the ass.  The Charger’s healer keeps telling me to lie still, but I’m going stir crazy, I swear.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Dorian said with a small smile as he took his staff from off his back.  “Let me know how this feels,” he said as a small white glow appeared over the scout’s leg.

“Ahh.  Maker, thank you for this!  I know that the wound is still there, but hopefully I can actually get back to Harding soon enough, and then from there, back to Haven,” Denning said.

“I’m very glad to hear it, Patrick,” Aloisia said.  “Now, before we take a look at everything you’ve managed to gather here, can you tell us what you’ve managed to learn yourself?  I don’t doubt that you’ve written the truth, but sometimes it’s best to hear it aloud.”

“As you say, Your Worship,” Patrick said.  “They call themselves the ‘Blades of Hessarian,’ and the way they talk about themselves in the few notes I managed to take off a corpse or two, along with how they yelled during battle, they see themselves as a weapon to be wielded only by the worthy.  I mean, I knew that there were Andrastian cults out there, but these people attacked us on sight.  No idea if they even knew we were Inquisition or not, but they’ve heard of you and say you’re false.  Apparently, you can challenge the leadership if you come in peace wearing this,” he said, fishing something out of his pocket.  “Instructions for this ‘Mercy’s Crest’ were on the body of one of the Blades.  Wear it when you approach, and you can challenge their leader for control of the group.  Seems only right that you should wield them, as it were.  That is, if it isn’t too bold of me to say, Your Worship.”

Aloisia looked at the necklace she had been handed, then back to Patrick.  “Are you serious?  The ‘Blades of Hessarian’ decided to challenge me?  I’m not entirely sure if this is a weapon that I want to wield.  Then again, if it’s just their current leader forcing them to do this…  You’ve done well, soldier.  Stay here and rest up.  I’ll make sure that everyone on the Storm Coast recognizes the true Blade of Mercy before long, I promise.”

So saying, Aloisia rose to her feet and examined the various intelligence that laid strewn about the shack.  It all corroborated what Scout Denning had told her, but one page that he might not have seen – a note from one Blade of Hessarian to another – explicitly recognized the Inquisition by name and by sight.

Aloisia was furious.  These people had not only stolen her moniker and taken it up for their own – even if they likely predated her arrival on this world – but they used a holy symbol to justify indiscriminate slaughter.  And that particular holy symbol was literally what the world chose to name Aloisia in some form or another.  This could not stand, and it would not stand.

Leaving the shack – more storming out than anything else – Aloisia put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.  “Listen up!” she called out.  “Our enemy is a group calling themselves – and I kid you not – the Blades of Hessarian.  We could slaughter them all, but it’s entirely possible they’d go to ground.  Thankfully, our people managed to discover a ritual to challenge their leader for control of the group.  Who wants to come with me and see them shit themselves when I show them up for the lie they are?”

“Count me in,” Iron Bull said as he moved over to Aloisia’s side.  “My boys can handle themselves from here, and I’d like to see you in action.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Sera said.  “These shites are calling themselves the Blades of Hessarian?  As in…  Oh, ha ha ha ha!  Yeah, you bet your arse they’re gonna piss their pants, and I wanna see it.”

“It should be entertaining, watching the poor bandits running around screaming in terror as a new master is crowned.  Like politics with a sword,” Dorian said.  “I’ll come along, too, I guess.”

“Someone needs to make sure these bandits are stopped, and that innocents are protected,” Blackwall said.  “If you can do that with a minimum of bloodshed, then I’m for it.”

“Ah, shit.  This is the kind of story every author dreams of writing.  It’s literal satire come to life,” Varric said.  “I’ve gotta see this.”

Aloisia smiled.  “Then, if there are no objections, mount up and follow me.  Iron Bull, do you have a horse or some other sort of mount?”

“Nah, but I can keep up just fine,” Iron Bull said with a chuckle.  “Gotta show you the pure, raw, unending stamina that is the Iron Bull!”

Aloisia sighed and laughed to herself, only checking herself mid-laugh that this was exactly the kind of tactic that Iron Bull was likely to use to lower her guard.  “Fine, fine.  Just keep it in your pants.  No need to prove yourself, I’ll take your word for it.”

So they set off down the hill and along another few winding paths, Aloisia having made sure that the Mercy’s Crest was visible against her armor, and before long they approached a walled encampment with two blue-garbed soldiers standing guard outside.  Aloisia halted and dismounted, holding up her hands in placation and approached the guards.

They saw her and did not go for their weapons.  “You come bearing Mercy’s Crest.  It’s to be a challenge, then.  Very well, outsider.  You may enter.  Your companions may accompany you, but the challenge is for you alone.  Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Aloisia said.  “Now then, take me to your leader,” she said as she suppressed a chuckle.  Even as a slave, back when she was still a small child, Aloisia had been permitted - and legally obliged - to watch certain HoloNet channels and programs pre-approved by the Ministry of Logistics.  The children’s shows often had Jedi invaders landing on outlying Sith worlds commanding the poor natives to 'take me to your leader.'  The real world didn’t work like that, of course, but when given the opportunity, Aloisia had to take it up.

“Ah yes, I remember,” Lana thought, a wave of nostalgia pouring over her soul. "The Conquests of Darth Zod.  I remember watching his adventures when I was young as well, forcing the legions of the Republic to 'kneel before Zod' in the Emperor’s name.  I do feel rather sorry for the poor Sith who got stuck play-acting for children instead of making their way on the battlefield.  It did make for effective propaganda for Imperial youths, however, if it even influenced you when you were still a slave.”

Aloisia was grateful for Lana’s insights, but she did need to focus on the here and now.  She needed to make this moment count.  Aloisia allowed herself to be brought before a tall, blonde-haired man with plenty of muscle, a full beard, and twin hand axes strapped to his belt.  She was not impressed.

“So,” the man said in a rough voice.  “You would challenge the Blades of Hessarian?”

Aloisia shook her head and laughed as loudly as she could, and it was a cold, cruel sound.  “Oh, you silly little boy.  I already wield the Blade of Mercy.  You are the pretenders, claiming to be something that you are not.  But I will earn my place as your leader.  I challenge you, one woman against one man, and to the victor goes the leadership of your little band of misfits.  You hold them back with your mindless slaughter, and I will lead them to new heights.”

“Impudent fool!” the man spat.  “You challenge me?  Fine.  Let’s end this!” he said as his hands went for his twin axes.

Aloisia summoned her lightsaber to her right hand and lopped off his head while he was still drawing his weapons.  Turning around in one fluid motion, Aloisia raised her weapon high before the old leader’s body had hit the ground.  A collective gasp went up through the camp, and Aloisia could feel the unbridled amusement from her companions.

“As I said,” Aloisia continued, “I already wield the Blade of Mercy.  You have taken that name and twisted it into something perverted.  If any of you still believe in doing the work of the people of Thedas, then recognize the true Blade of Hessarian and its true owner.  Renounce your former mantle and become the Blades of Kallig.  There is a lot of work needed to help restore Thedas to order in this time of need, and such times require dedicated men and women willing to do whatever it takes to serve a cause greater than themselves.  What say you all?!” she cried.

The erstwhile Blades of Hessarian dropped to their knees and bowed their heads in supplication.  “Maker forgive us!” one of them said, a young man.  “Our leader…  He told us that you were the false one!  That you came to steal what was rightfully ours!  But he’s dead now and you...  You are clearly chosen.  It is as you say.  You already wield the Blade of Hessarian, Aloisia Kallig.  It would be our honor and privilege to become your personal Blades, to extend your influence wherever it may reach.”

Murmurs of assent went up through the group, and Aloisia realized that she had to calm things down before she had too radical a cult on her hands.  “I may wield the Blade of Mercy,” Aloisia clarified, “but I serve the people of Thedas as best I can.  If you are to serve me, then it must not be for the sake of serving me alone.  If you swear yourselves henceforth to be the Blades of Kallig, then you are swearing yourselves to the service of the common man.  No more banditry, no more slaughter.  Charity, service, sacrifice.  These are things you can do for the good of the Maker’s children.  If you would be a Blade of Kallig, approach and swear yourselves to me, and I will tell you how to separate my instructions from those who would use my name against the people.”

The newly-christened Blades of Kallig lined up one-by-one and came to kneel before Aloisia, pledging themselves to her service.  She whispered into each of their ears the same name: Arctis.  Darth Arctis had served on the Dark Council, only to be replaced by Darth Thanaton, whose blind vendetta against Aloisia had led to her taking the very same seat from him in the end.  By invoking the name of her predecessor’s predecessor, these people would know that her orders were genuine.

Finally, they had all come forward, and Aloisia addressed them collectively.  “Go now and present yourselves to Scout Lace Harding at the Inquisition’s main camp.  Do not attack, but submit yourself into service.  You will receive instructions from her until I can properly assign you elsewhere.  Until that day comes, you are to help in keeping this area safe and stable.  Anyone belonging to the Tevinter cult known as the Venatori are to be captured or killed.  Any darkspawn are to be killed.  If there are any breaches into the Deep Roads, either seal them or notify Scout Harding if you cannot do so on your own.  Go now, and do the Maker’s work.”

As the Blades of Kallig field out of the camp, Aloisia sensed a great deal of unease coming from…  “Sera!  Join me over here for a moment, would you?  You look like you have something on your mind.  Let’s talk privately.”

Not giving Sera the option of yelling her concerns out for the Qunari spy to hear, Aloisia slipped out the back of the camp and left a clear trail for Sera to follow until she came to lean against a tree not far away from the walled encampment.

Thankfully, Sera was quick to follow, and she approached slowly.  Aloisia could tell that she was full of both anger and terror, both directed at Aloisia herself.  All the same, Sera had a unique perspective that was worth hearing out.  “All right," Sera said carefully as she stopped a few paces away from Aloisia.  "You wanted me to tell you if I ever saw you doing something stupid, right?  Well, that back there looked pretty bloody stupid to me!  Making people bow down to you and do whatever you say?  I thought you were decent people, I really did.  Tell me I’m wrong.”

Aloisia understood Sera’s concerns, she truly did, and she did not want to lose Sera’s support.  If she did, then she might as well give up her entire position on this world, since it would mean nothing without the peoples’ trust.  “All right, Sera, let me ask you something.  Who do you think has the most power over the Inquisition as a whole?”

“What, you serious?” Sera asked, seemingly taken aback by the question.  “You do, right?”

“Maybe,” Aloisia conceded.  “But maybe not.  I want to make the world a better place for everyone, and that’s going to require a lot of change.  And not everyone will like the changes that I think the world needs to make it a better place for everyone.  And one of the people who has been in charge of keeping the world the way it always has been is now my spymaster.  Leliana knows all the secrets in the Inquisition, more than me.  She advises me, but she doesn’t always agree with me.  And she is ruthless and more than willing to use anything and anyone she can if she thinks she’s doing what is best.  You have your friends, Leliana has all of her agents, and I...  Well, it sounds quite childish when I say it out loud, but suppose I just wanted a group of people who would carry out my vision of a better Thedas.  If I end up pissing off too many rich tits, as you like to call them, and they try to force me to do something I don’t want to do, I’d like to have allies I can fall back to.  People who aren't loyal to the Inquisition, but to me, personally.  It may not seem like it, Sera, but most of the time, I feel incredibly alone.  I…  I guess I just wanted to have some part of this world that I could say, ‘Nobody has this over me.  Not a King, not an Empress, not my spymaster, just me.’  Do you get that, Sera?”

Sera was uncharacteristically silent as she took in Aloisia’s words and nodded.  “Yeah, I guess I get that.  Maker, I knew the Nightingale scared me, but she scares you too, doesn’t she?  I guess…  Having control is nice and such, but not when it’s people.  You used to be a slave, right?  I just…  I want to believe you’re doing the right thing, and that you won’t do wrong by those people.  So how about this?  You give an order to the Blade’s bloody Blades of her own, and I’ll be there to watch you write it down or whatnot and make sure you’re not just offing whichever little person pissed you off.  And I’ll just watch and listen, right?  And if it’s all good, then nothing to worry about.  But if it isn’t good, then you’ll know sooner rather than later.  Is that…  Can that be a thing?”

Aloisia let out a breath.  “Yes, Sera.  That can be a thing.  If I ever use the Blades of Kallig for any reason at all, I'll consult you first and get your opinion.  And speaking of people in power in the Inquisition…  I need you for exactly this, Sera.  I need you to make sure I don’t become just another villain.  If I ever lose your support, then I’ll know that I’ve messed everything up, and it’ll be time for me to stop and go live out the rest of my life quietly where no one can find me or be hurt by me.  I’m trusting you to keep me honest about, well, everything.  Of all the people who follow me into battle – right by my side, that is – you’re the only one who is truly one of the ‘little people.’  And I have to work for their sake, I have to.  If I don’t, then you need to put an arrow in my head, Sera.  And I can’t see it coming.  You’ll have to be quiet, it will have to be from far away, and even then it might not be enough, but you’ll have to try.  Promise me, Sera.”

Sera’s eyes widened in a mixture of awe and fear, and Aloisia could tell that she had not been expecting that particular reply.  “Yeah, sure, whatever.  Just…  Just don’t let it get to that, okay?  Just be good people, Aloisia.  Fix the sky, stay a good person, get things back to normal, and stay a good person.  And yeah, I said it twice.  I needed to, all right?”

“All right,” Aloisia agreed.  “Come on, then.  I think we’ve done all we came here to do.  Let’s get back to Haven and hope the mages are ready when we arrive.  And then we’ll see about closing the Breach once and for all.”

Chapter Text

When Solas had first beheld Aloisia Kallig, she had been unconscious and in chains, and he had just barely managed to stabilize the mark on her hand, preventing it from killing her. And he hated that he was in this mess, but he did need her alive, for the mark was bound to her as surely as her arms or legs. If he could just retrieve his orb, he might be able to coerce the mark out of the human woman and into himself. Alas, until the orb was found, he would have to make do with the tools at his disposal.

For a tool, Aloisia Kallig had been quite a surprise. Solas had expected to find another disappointment in a world full of muted beings that weren’t truly alive in any real way. And then his mark had attached itself to the one exception, and she was a human at that! How could any human feel more alive, more real, than any would-be elf who dared to presume such a mantle for themselves today?

No, Solas chided himself. It was not their fault that they were ignorant shades of what once they were. The fault was entirely his own, and in spite of or because of this, seeing a human woman so vibrant and real gave him hope that others might follow and prove to be more real than unreal. Alas, it was not to be. And for the longest time, Solas had doubted what he saw before him while awake. For while Aloisia Kallig practically shined in the waking world, he had searched the Fade and had been unable to find her in his dreams.

Solas had not been entirely sure that she did dream at all, and if she didn’t, then how could he reconcile that with the vibrancy he felt in her being? For she did use magic, even if she knew it by another name. But what name would that be? Magic was magic, there was nothing else. And he might have gone on thinking that Aloisia Kallig could not dream at all until just after her arrest of Enchanter Vivienne.

That night, Wisdom had showed him two places – two entirely other worlds of some alien character – that showed Solas possibilities that he had never considered. That night, he came to know that the landscapes had been reflecting Aloisia's dreams, and it was then that things became clearer. Solas remembered a certain kind of practice in the height of Elvhenan, where a dreamer would guide themselves into sleep so thoroughly that they were more aware of themselves in the Fade than even the most subtle of dreamers falling asleep on their own. Through such manipulations, a dreamer could possibly alter the Fade to create for themselves a sanctuary. Not from spirits, for the Fade was their home. No, this was more often than not a trick of the Evanuris or their highest-ranked acolytes to plot and scheme in secrecy, for such sanctuaries could be molded to guard against intrusion by other dreamers.

Presumably, Solas could search for her sanctuary and take a look about, but if she was anywhere near as sharp and clever as she was while awake, then she would have set wards about or befriended spirits who would alert her of any intrusions when she inevitably returned. Indeed, the sanctuaries of others could be found with ease in the Fade if one knew where to look, but such a breach was in itself an open declaration of hostile intent, if not worse. And the implications here were troubling. Here was a human woman, so powerful with her magic, so capable with leadership, presumably spending a life in a world with barely any proper dreamers in it, and it was entirely possible that she felt it necessary to take such precautions. Was she suspicious of him? Perhaps Solas had become so accustomed to being looked to for guidance as the Dread Wolf protecting his followers, but it stung more than it should that Aloisia did not seek him out for guidance as much as he had suspected she would. He was the one who had healed her hand, he was the only source of knowledge about her mark. And yet, Aloisia Kallig had barely paid him any mind at all.

At the very least, the so-called Blade of the Maker had a number of attitudes and positions that he could deeply respect. She recognized the Chantry for the harmful institution that it was, and while he doubted her claims to have once been a slave, her attitudes regarding slavery were very clear and very welcome. She was also a staunch advocate of the freedom to use magic as written in the Chant of Light but seldom practiced by its adherents. If Solas was honest with himself, it was a rule that would have done the ancient elves a great deal of good. To use magic to serve others, and never to rule over them. If only that had been the case, then the Veil might never have been needed.

Perhaps he had expected too much of the would-be savior of the world, but the people she chose as her closest companions utterly baffled Solas to no end. Sera was a petulant and ignorant child who wore her ignorance like a badge of pride. She was so immersed in the world of humans that she actively shunned her own kind. Perhaps the world had been unkind to her, but one of the People ought to be better than that.

Solas had also noticed – by way of word from his agents – which advisors Aloisia chose to meet with and for how long. When she wasn’t discussing matters with all of her advisors, she seemed intent on confiding solely in the Nightingale. Sister Leliana might be a mere human, but even if she was a shell of a person compared to himself and to Aloisia, she was cunning and ruthless and well-versed at keeping and unearthing secrets. More than that, however, she had been one of Aloisia’s jailers at the beginning, and such a bond did not speak of Aloisia as a former slave turned captive. One did not confide solely in a spymaster unless one had a great deal of interests in secrets, be they her own or those of others.

And then, ever since their first foray to Redcliffe Village, she had quickly become inseparable from a mage of the Tevinter Imperium of all things. The fact that she would choose such a creature as a friend and confidant instead of someone infinitely wiser and more knowledgeable – and one far less likely to have ever owned another person – it grated on Solas’s nerves in a way that made him feel ashamed.  It was unthinkable that he had allowed any human to hold such power over him.

Solas had wondered why Aloisia had chosen him to accompany her to confront the magister, and he had hoped that she was extending a hand of trust and companionship. That had all too quickly been shot to pieces as Alexius displaced Aloisia and Dorian with some sort of spell that had seemed to be some sort of temporal magic. To the casual eye, they might have simply moved a few inches, but the look on their faces, the way they looked at everything in the throne room, and of course the blood on their garb indicated otherwise. Some amount of time had passed for the two of them, and whatever it was that they had seen, Solas saw through Aloisia’s explanation for sending him back to Haven. Yes, it would do well to help the mages settle into their new lodgings, and he was incredibly grateful that Aloisia had granted them their freedom. And yes, it would do him well to prepare to guide these mages to provide power to seal the Breach.

And yet, when Aloisia had gone to the Storm Coast, she very noticeably took Dorian Pavus with her and had sent Solas back to Haven where he could not see them, could not question them, and could not glean whatever it was they might have seen and when or where it was that they had seen it. Dorian might reveal such things subconsciously in his dreams, and Solas would search the Fade for the answers when he had the time.

In fact, Aloisia was supposedly on her way back to Haven, and unless he was mistaken, she would be back tomorrow by midday. This was the perfect time to slip into the Fade and learn what he could. The mages were settled in and were being treated well, and after a number of days of work, with dusk having fallen at least a couple of hours ago, Solas could say he was truly tired and looking forward to sleep beyond the normal joys of exploring the Fade.

He found his way into his tent and laid down to rest, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. He opened his eyes and found himself still in Haven, but reflected through the Fade. Even from a distance, he could see the light reflected from Aloisia’s approach. So many spirits and demons must have flocked to that light, and yet she remained undisturbed. To her credit, her attitude towards spirits was remarkably mature for a human. She saw them for what they were, rather than some Chantry invention. Again, something odd for a former slave to feel.

Before he could set out in search of whatever dream Dorian Pavus might be experiencing, a familiar spirit was waiting for him. “Guardianship,” he greeted the spirit politely. “How fare your wards?”

“Not well, Solas,” it confessed. “I am troubled, for you have been a good friend, and when you woke from your long sleep, I took it upon myself to stand watch over your resting place. And yet, I could not act when it was visited not long ago. Visited, searched, ransacked, violated. I tried my best to force my way across, to stop them, but I could not. I am sorry, but I have failed you, my friend.”

“Guardianship, please! You mustn’t berate yourself so,” Solas said, worried that his friend would attempt to cross the veil on his behalf. “It is not safe for you on the other side. I am grateful for your consideration, but by bringing me word you have discharged your duty. You have neither faltered nor failed, my friend. You have been what you always were and are always meant to be, and for that, I am glad to call you my friend. Indeed, I am very glad to have this knowledge, truly.”

“You are glad to have such knowledge, perhaps,” Guardianship said. “But the news itself bothers you far more than I understand, and I confess that I do not know why.  I only know that it was important to you, and I failed to keep it safe. I regret my failure, even if you do not view it as such.”

“The failure is not yours, Guardianship, but mine,” Solas said, cursing himself for a fool. Either he had severely underestimated Leliana’s paranoia, or else Aloisia had personally directed her spymaster to look into his origins. The latter seemed more likely. While he hadn’t intended for it to be a literal sanctuary of his own, he had definitely intended for his origins to remain a secret.

Perhaps he should seek out Aloisia’s sanctuary - if she did have one - and cloak himself in a guise that she wouldn't recognize. It would be quite telling, indeed, how this strange woman would react to seeing Fen’Harel approach her in lupine form to speak with her. But first to find her sanctuary… He would need help. Having been alone in the waking world for over a year now after awakening from uthenera, Solas had blindly searched the Fade alone for Aloisia. If he wanted to do more than just stumble around, all he would have to do was summon some help.

A wisp was wandering by, and with a wave of his hand, it approached him. Solas didn’t speak with words so much as with thoughts, impressing onto the wisp an image of Aloisia Kallig as he perceived her, along with a desire to know where she was. The wisp floated away, and taking to his wolf from, Solas followed. On and on throughout the Fade until they reached an edge, only for the wisp to keep on flying upwards and outwards. Solas looked up and cursed himself for a blind fool.

It was so obvious that Solas couldn’t believe he didn’t think of it himself. It was a sign of how long he had been apart from the world as it ought to be that he thought so two-dimensionally, and that he allowed things like space and distance to matter as much as they did now. Aloisia had carved out a piece of the Fade and made an island for herself. Solas laughed at the thought of what the Chantry would think if they ever learned of this. Such a haven, isolated from the Fade writ large, was not unlike what was now the Black City.

While Solas knew a great deal more about the Black City’s history and true nature than anyone else alive, or so he would wager, he still did not truly know what had caused it to blacken from its once golden hue. Whatever the truth behind the change, black was far more suiting to its true nature than gold ever was or would be. But that particular island was not at the top of his concerns right now.

Some dreamers in this shattered half-world never mastered their abilities, which was a pity given how rare a true dreamer was. For Solas, he but had to will the ground in front of him to form a bridge, and it did so, allowing the Dread Wolf to scamper across as fast as his will allowed within the confines of the Fade. The Black City had numerous failsafe spells in place to prevent this kind of access, and he couldn't imagine that Aloisia had managed similar protection for this sanctum of hers, for the wisp had incontrovertibly put him on such a path. As Solas began to reach a similar height to Aloisia's island - he might be horizontally even with the sanctuary, but it was still quite distant - he was quickly confronted by four spirits that appeared to him as the Sentinels of Mythal. Guardians, then, protecting this place.

“You are not welcome here,” they said. “Turn back, trespasser.”

“Why you do serve her whims?” Solas asked, genuinely curious as to their perspective. “What makes her worthy of your service?”

One of the sentinels stepped forward and drew a pair of spectral knives. “You have neither changed nor truly learned. Leave this place.”

Solas did not want to confront spirits who were only following their nature, but he had to know what was beyond them. “I am sorry,” he said before tossing them aside with a thought. He might not have his magic at full strength in the waking world, but while his will was sorely tested in the wake of the Veil and all that it wrought, he was still a formidable dreamer. No spirit would bar his path for long.

He continued to forge his bridge and to run across it, only to be hit suddenly from the side with what felt like arcane energy made solid. Falling off the bridge, Solas willed himself a pair of wings, and he flew safely up to see what had happened. Bolts of green energy were assailing him from the island itself! As he dodged and weaved, Solas found himself hard-pressed to believe what he was witnessing. Not since before the Veil had anyone taken the Fade and made something of it in such a manner. The sanctuaries of the Evanuris were so secure because of the fear of retribution should they be violated. Solas had only breached those barriers when they had gone too far and killed Mythal, but even the most powerful of the Elvhen had not thought to turn the Fade itself into a weapon to defend their own private domains in such a way.

Then again, neither had Solas himself. Were he and his brethren truly so arrogant and so blind as to never have thought of such a thing? It didn’t matter, Solas realized, as he willed the foundations of ‘ground’ beneath the cannon-like things to crumble, and so the cannons themselves fell away. That was sure to draw attention if Aloisia was still asleep and waiting for him here, so he hurried across to the island before she could restore her defenses.

He saw her, the brilliance of her being shining compared to the pale imitations of life that every other so-called soul in this world possessed. She was like a beacon, and he chased towards her. She made to bar his way, so he leaped and willed himself to fly as far as he could and finally land on the surface of her island before turning and sitting down on his hind legs, head held high with all the majesty that befit the Dread Wolf.

Before his eyes stood Aloisia Kallig and Lana Beniko, and behind them were a number of spirits that looked to be engaged in a group conversation. Solas looked from one to another to see what sort of company his quarry kept. There was Truth, Patriotism, Guile, Creativity, Cynicism, Pragmatism, and several others that lingered at a greater distance. Neither of the two human women took their eyes off of him.

“I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, everyone,” Aloisia said, “but it appears we have company, and I would hate to be accused of being a poor host. This Council is adjourned for now. But first, tell me truly: is this being an enemy?”

“It is unclear,” Truth said, or rather Truth from Aloisia’s perspective. “He is conflicted despite great conviction. He has grand intentions, but he also has doubts. Be wary, but be open to greater possibilities as well.”

“Thank you for your counsel, Truth,” Aloisia said, again not looking away from Solas. “Sometimes I wonder how different you would be from Wisdom, should I ever meet such a being.”

“Wisdom speaks of what might have been and what might yet be. I speak of what is,” Truth explained. “Be well, Commander.”

Commander? Then again, she did insist upon that title when she first took control away from Chancellor Roderick and into her own hands. Who… What is she?

“Now, then,” Aloisia said as she turned to face Solas, folding her arms across her chest. Behind her, Lana Beniko paced from side to side, her hands folded behind the small of her back. “You have a great deal of nerve barging in here into what any simpleton can see is a private domain that I have taken pains to isolate for the purpose of privacy, hence the private domain. Who are you, and why have you taken such pains to disrupt my sleeping hours?”

It was sickening, but he would have to play the part of the god that the Dalish believed him to be, if only to give Aloisia a context she might be familiar with. “I do not come to seek conflict, merely understanding. As to my name, you may call me Fen’Harel. If you do not know that name, then your ignorance may be your-"

“My what? My misfortune, O Mighty God of Trickery as the elves believe?” she mocked him. “You claim a divine mantle, but tell me, truthfully: by what right do you call yourself a god?”

This defiance was hardly expected, but it was quite telling of her character, and it was delightful. “Why should I bother to answer such a foolish question? Does not my presence alone signify my divinity?”

“Your presence, trespasser, indicates arrogance and hostility,” Aloisia shot back. “Perhaps I should rephrase the question. I will not ask what right you have to call yourself what you will. I will instead pose a question to you, and I would very much like to hear an honest answer. How do you, Fen’Harel, define what a god truly is?”

Now, that question had definitely not been expected. It was a question so few people ever thought to even ask, and yet here he was, the answer having been demanded of him. He would settle for a version of the truth as some might believe, even if he didn't believe it himself. “I am worshipped by those who wish vengeance for sins against them, I am feared by those who have done ill unto others.  I delight in causing misfortune for beings of immeasurable power, and I do so gladly and often.  What am I, then, if not a god?"

Aloisia laughed a bitter, humorless sound. “So your only claim to godhood is your power, and your ability to manipulate others into viewing that power with awe or fear.  Is that right?  How very typical. You are exactly the same as any other being that claims for themselves a godly mantle.  You and those like you all share certain elements in common.  You are liars, or else you are delusional, or else you are simply blinded by a combination of ego and power. So tell me, Fen’Harel, by which of these do you call yourself a god?”

Solas couldn’t help but blink silently at her incredibly apt description of the nature of godhood. It was far too apt to be merely a theory conjured by an ordinary woman, and the way she spoke of 'those like him' could only mean… “You have met other gods before,” he said, more statement than question.

“Correction,” Aloisia said. “I have met other beings that claimed to be gods. And you risk a great deal by conjuring my memories of said beings when we are here in the Fade. I am in control for now, but all I see before me is a loudmouthed wolf whose overeager curiosity outweighs both his common sense and his common decency.”

Aloisia sighed and shook her head, but then she grinned from ear to ear, and her eyes held a cruel sort of joy as she turned to the black-armored blonde woman with the golden eyes. “Lana, dear. This wolf thinks himself a god. Gods are powerful beings. Do you think I should share with him how it feels to witness the grandest workings of such a truly powerful being? He is quite curious, after all.”

For the first time, Lana spoke. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea, but perhaps it will give this malcontent a sense of perspective. You’ve already been through so much. We both have. If sharing this will convince him to leave you alone, then I won’t stand in your way.”

“Thank you, beloved,” Aloisia said before turning back to Solas and taking a step towards him. “You are curious, aren’t you? You came all the way here to look for me, though I can’t say I know why. You claim to be a god, but there isn’t really such a thing in the literal sense. But since you came here seeking knowledge, I will share with you what it feels like to see a self-proclaimed god pass judgment over his people while... Let's say that he was having himself a remarkably satisfying meal. Just remember that you barged into my private sanctum in the pursuit of knowledge. I won’t hear any complaints if what I show you isn’t to your liking.”

And then Aloisia Kallig pressed the tip of her right thumb to his lupine forehead. Suddenly, he wasn’t on the island anymore. Or perhaps he was, but he was perceiving something different. He looked down and saw Aloisia’s hands. She was sharing one of her memories with him. There was a window into the night sky ahead of him. Stepping forward, he looked out and down to a white and blue globe in the midst of the black emptiness.

"Ziost," came the unprompted thought in Aloisia voice. "You are about to witness the death of a world, and you will feel everything as a would-be god consumes every living thing down to the last microbe. You think you know death? Wait until you feel a world die, knowing that you failed to save everything and everyone down there. Then tell me again that you are a god, and then tell me why I should give you one more moment of my time, let alone why I should grant you one more moment of life."

Solas didn’t understand what Aloisia meant until a hollow feeling took root inside of him. He couldn’t describe this terror, only that he felt it and knew it to be true on some primal level. He looked down at the globe, forcing himself to watch as, starting from the northern pole, a wave of malice and death spread over it in a wave of darkness, turning everything into a dull brown until it reached the southern pole and encompassed everything.

More than that, Solas understood. Like a kick to his very soul, each blow more painful, more agonizing, more terrifying. Solas felt the fear and anguish of billions of living souls - their individual pain and terror each an assault on his own personal spirit, and all of them attacking him at once - and then suddenly, all of that pain, all that fear, all that life was just gone.  Just as he had felt the vibrancy of life, however painful and horrific, he now felt the absolute terror of its complete absence. It was like a void in his soul that had been a full stomach only only moments ago, so completely and utterly wrong in every way, and Solas knew true and unadulterated panic.

Before he was aware of what had happened, Solas found himself upright and awake in his tent, panting and out of breath, sweat covering his body. It took him a few precious moments to ponder what had happened before he truly realized that he had suffered such a profound trauma that he had reflexively forced himself awake. Such was the potency of Aloisia Kallig's memory.

That was a memory! She felt that. She witnessed that! That was real to her, and she dared me to compare myself to whatever it was that had killed a world. Damn, but Solas was such a terrible and very old fool of a man. Could the Evanuris have done such a thing? Could they have consumed all life in this world only to rule over the ashes? They most certainly would have under the right circumstances, but were they capable of such power? Alone, perhaps not. Collectively, almost certainly so.

And yet, Aloisia had referred to this entity as a singular being, almost certainly an enemy. No wonder the questions she posed to him about the nature of godhood, if this was her experience with such beings. She had supposedly faced such power and was still here, still going out of her way to save these wretched creatures who were ignorant as to how lifeless and pale they truly were. Did Aloisia see how little actual life they truly possessed? If so, did she simply not care, deeming them worth saving nonetheless?

Solas decided that he needed to reflect on this, and he needed to do so after a bath in the river to wash away the sweat of fear that coated his body. And so as he rose to greet the dawn, in his haste to bathe and contemplate what he had witnessed, Solas quietly forgot the Sentinel spirit’s warning before his trespass: ‘You have neither changed nor truly learned.’

After a thoroughly harrowing trip to a possible future, and after a separate and quite annoying detour to the Storm Coast, Dorian had been looking forward to seeing Haven itself. Here was the headquarters of the Inquisition, a site of pilgrimage for the faithful. Dorian had expected something truly grand and marvelous.

It was perhaps slightly helpful that Dorian had grown so accustomed to disappointment, for Haven was just a series of wooden shacks contained by walls that were more akin to large fences than anything else. Outside of the so-called walls, however, was a small city of tents amongst which a great number of mages walked about freely, their robes and staves fully visible for anyone who cared to take a look.

The south’s traditional views towards magic were simply barbarous, in Dorian’s mind, and it seemed that Aloisia Kallig might agree with him on that point. Her speech in Redcliffe announcing this alliance hadn’t been quite the clarion call to full freedom that Dorian had hoped for, but it had called upon the Chant of Light as written to appeal to common sense. Aloisia’s speech had simply called for responsible use of magic, no more and no less. It was about as reasonable a request as could be made, but Dorian was positive that she would meet resistance nonetheless.

Though perhaps anyone who disagreed with the Blade of the Maker would think twice after her return to Haven. They had necessarily passed through the tent city of free mages, and the call had gone out that their liberator had returned, and Aloisia had needed to dismount and greet her adoring fans. It was like something out of a grand theater performance, where the actors would greet their audience after the show, only this was less about mere appreciation and more like adoration approaching worship.

And yes, to the untrained eye, Aloisia Kallig was truly beyond any mortal being. She carried a Blade of Mercy more fitting to the southern Chanty’s tastes than Hessarian’s own blade of steel in the tale. She mended literal tears in the fabric of reality, slew demons wherever she saw them. Perhaps she rescued stray kittens that had gotten stuck up in a tree every now and then.

The elven archer, Sera, had seemed uncomfortable with the display and had announced her intentions to go into town and get something to eat. The Qunari spy and his mercenary company had slipped past as quietly as they could. Why Aloisia let a Qunari spy into her camp was beyond him, especially since she had known what he was before she had even met him, or so he surmised.

Varric Tethras had spent a good deal of time on the ferry from Redcliffe and then on the return trip from the Storm Coast trying to wheedle information out of Dorian about what he and Aloisia had witnessed due to Alexius’s spell. Presumably, the man had the common sense of self-preservation not to approach Aloisia directly, but Dorian had the same sense not to betray her trust and gossip about so many things he didn’t yet understand. And she had promised him answers in time, which he hoped would be sooner rather than later. For a time, Varric had listened to the Blade of the Maker and her interactions with the free mages, most likely for some novel that Dorian would just have to get an advanced look at.

After what must have been half an hour, Aloisia had finally managed to convince the mages to let her through to Haven proper, and now Dorian found himself lounging in a corner inside the chantry, where Aloisia had told him to wait while she settled some matters with her advisors. As he waited, Dorian pondered the Inquisition, and he wondered what would happen if Aloisia was able to succeed in closing the Breach.

According to what he had seen posted on the door of the chantry, the Inquisition’s mandate was to close the Breach, to find those responsible and bring them to justice, and to restore order to the world. Dorian imagined that if they succeeded at the first of those tasks, then they would move onto the second. At the very least, they had a name to put to the guilty party.

Corypheus, the leader of the Venatori, someone aspiring to godhood. It sounded all too similar to so many others from Tevinter’s past, both recent and ancient. And according to Alistair Theirin in one possible future, this being had some control over the Blight. That way led very uncomfortable thoughts, for the southern Chantry had a very explicit explanation for how the Imperium and darkspawn were directly linked to one another.  And as far as Dorian knew, it was the only link between the two that anyone had ever drawn. Could there actually be some truth to those fairy tales? What a disaster that would be, to find that a horror story was actually true, let alone one that painted his countrymen and their ancestors as real and legitimate villains.

Before he could ponder such horrible possibilities much further, the sound of the chantry doors opening drew his attention, and in walked Aloisia Kallig. “Dorian,” she said kindly in greeting. “My apologies for the wait. I had to meet with a few people scattered all across the encampment. Now that those tasks have been dealt with, I believe I promised you some answers to your questions. If you’ll follow me, I will oblige you in private.”

Dorian held his tongue for the moment, afraid that some foolish question would escape from his mouth before he could think to keep it in check. Aloisia led him to the rear of the chantry, and opened a door into a simple room adorned only with a large table with a map strewn across it, along with several wooden chairs surrounding the table.

“Finally,” Aloisia said with a laugh as she closed the door behind them. “I’ve been waiting for ages for someone to finally put some chairs in here. Meetings get so much more tedious when you can’t even take a seat. Speaking of which, let’s sit, Dorian, and you can ask the first question. I imagine you have a great deal of them, so why don’t you start with whatever your greatest concern might be, and we can work our way down from there.”

Dorian took a seat at one end of the table, and Aloisia sat down a few feet away, turning her chair to face him. She crossed one leg over the other, leaned back, and rested her elbows on the armrests as she steepled her fingers. She truly looked every bit the leader she had proven herself to be.

“Where to start?” Dorian wondered, more to himself than to Aloisia or anyone else. “I suppose the most glaring thing was how you seemed to refer to… Well, it seemed like you were referring to everyone as ‘you Thedosians.’ That seems to imply that you are not from Thedas. So if Thedas is not your home, then where is it?”

Aloisia closed her eyes and sighed, and Dorian imagined that she was feeling ill at ease about answering this question. “Before I answer your question, I would ask for your perspective. What do you think of when you think of ‘beyond Thedas,’ Dorian?”

“So you aren’t denying that you’re from beyond Thedas?” Dorian asked, if only to make sure he heard her right.

“That’s right, but please, answer the question. What does ‘beyond Thedas’ mean to you?”

“Well,” Dorian said, thinking carefully. “I would imagine whatever lies west of the Hunterhorn Mountains, or else south of the Korcari Wilds, or across the Amaranthine Ocean, or else north of the Imperium and the Anderfels. The Qunari supposedly came from somewhere north of Thedas. Do you call such a place home yourself?”

Aloisia merely shook her head and chuckled. “At least you know your geography. Further proof that Tevinter actually gives a damn about educating its citizens properly. But I’m afraid your perspective is too narrow. You’ve looked to the north, to the south, to the east and west. But I’m afraid to say that your thinking is simply too two-dimensional so far.”

“Two-dimensional?” Dorian repeated, and he cursed himself for a fool. Of course, the Deep Roads had once connected an empire to rival any in all of known history. “I wasn’t aware there were human settlements underground.”

That only elicited further laughter from Aloisia. “All right, you looked down. That’s good, but there’s still one direction you haven’t cast your gaze towards just yet.”

What was she trying to say? The only other direction she could be referring to was ‘up.’ But that was simply impossible. Then again, everything about this woman had been some manner of impossible ever since he had first met her. “Surely not? How? Where?” he managed to eke out, barely louder than a whisper.

Aloisia uncrossed her legs and leaned forward towards him in her seat. “I’ve found telescopes that I’m told belong to a pre-Andrastian sect of the Imperium, so you’ve had access to the stars for quite some time. Surely, somebody in your homeland must have sometime wondered what might be out there. I am the answer, or at least a very minor, very partial answer.”

Part of Dorian was amazed at what he was hearing. The possibilities that her mere existence opened up were quite possibly endless. Alas, he couldn’t help but feel hurt, and the pain he felt made him realize just how much he had come to like Aloisia Kallig. “You lied to me,” he said quietly. “Everything about you is a lie. The Blade of the Maker, what a convenient fiction. Was any of it ever true?” he spat.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I wanted to tell the truth about myself from the very start?” Aloisia said with a sigh. “But let's be honest, Dorian: if you had heard tales that the only survivor of the explosion at the Conclave was a woman who came from beyond the sky, from an Empire made up of several worlds, each of them surrounding a distant star in the sky, would you have believed such a story? Would anyone?”

“Well, when you put it like that… Oh, confound it. I would have most certainly thought you were delusional. But I’ve met you, and now I have context that the rest of the world lacks. Or well, I suppose I should say that the rest of ‘this world’ lacks. Not only are you from another world, but from an empire that spans the stars? It’s utterly unbelievable.” So much made sense now. Lana Beniko’s use of the word ‘galaxy,’ her insistence that Aloisia was responsible for ‘every world.’ Maker, what had she been through that such a weight had been put upon her?

“I’m glad you understand why I didn’t come right out and tell the people a story that they would not accept. So let me tell you a bit about myself,” Aloisia said. “I was born into slavery, just not in the Tevinter Imperium. My owner took liberties with my mother, and he got a newborn slave that he tasked my mother with raising into a proper Imperial servant. I mostly did simple household chores that people here in Thedas take for granted as things that just need to be done. Or perhaps not, if the stories of slavery in the Imperium are to be believed.”

Now this was territory that Dorian had known he would have to broach at some point, but here it was, coming up right now. “My family’s slaves are generally treated well, given tasks that don’t do them any harm. I won’t deny that others are far less charitable with their slaves.”

“And the practice doesn’t bother you?” Aloisia asked. Her voice was quiet and calm, but he sensed that he was treading on very precarious ground.

“Honestly, I never really thought much about it until coming south. Not only is it viewed as barbaric here, but the savior of the realm supposedly escaped from said barbarism,” Dorian said. "Ignoring any thoughts on the matter are quite impossible."

“I’ll be honest with you, Dorian,” Aloisia said. “I didn’t question it myself at first. But there’s an irony to the Sith Empire that I call home that I imagine makes it different for me. To the Sith, there is no higher ideal than freedom. My mother had to explain to me the concept of freedom, and how neither of us were truly free. She had to point to my birth as an example, and you can't imagine how hard that was for me to hear. For a time, I was convinced that my own mother didn’t love me, that she didn’t want me anywhere near her. Nothing was farther from the truth, but I shut her out in my youthful anger.”

“Why would you think such a thing?” Dorian asked, quite truly puzzled.

“You truly don’t understand, do you, Pavus?” she said with a humorless laugh. “In the Empire, if my owner had raped a citizen, he would have been jailed for the crime, or more likely executed. But there was nothing wrong at all with him using his property in whatever way he liked. We literally lived and died at his whims. And it wouldn’t have been murder. You don’t kill property, you simply dispose of it.”

Dorian listened in horror as the implications hit her. He had always seen the Pavus family slaves as people, however low in the social hierarchy, but that wasn’t true from a legal sense. No, to the Imperium, they were just as Aloisia was saying. They were just things to be used and abused however anyone might like. Nobody would think twice about killing a disobedient slave, he realized. They should give a damn. We should. I should have thought to actually give a damn.

“For a time, I thought my mother hated me because of the circumstances of my conception. It took me a few weeks to calm down and to realize that she was simply explaining the concept of freedom to me, and how the both of us lacked any such freedom. My owner, however, he had the ‘freedom’ to use us in whatever way he deemed proper. Such was the Empire I was born into.”

Dorian nodded as understanding finally and truly dawned upon him. “I see. How did you escape your owner?”

“Now, that’s a part of the story that’s not quite as you’ve heard it. I didn’t raise a rebellion and strike back against my owner. If I had even tried, all he would have had to do was press a button, and the collar around my neck would have sent electricity into my spine and killed me in an instant,” she said to Dorian’s horror. “No, my freedom came by Imperial edict when my abilities first manifested, what you know as magic. The new law decreed that all Force-sensitive beings – regardless of species or birth station – were to be sent to the Sith Academy on Korriban to face the trials there. I was forced to become Sith or die in the process.”

Dorian nodded silently as he tried to assimilate this new knowledge. “I recall your wife mentioning Korriban while you were indisposed. I suppose I should ask what a Sith is, and how the term relates to your Empire.”

“To put it in simple terms? A Sith is a Force-user – a mage, you could say – who adheres to a certain code of beliefs and ideals, or else who is in service to the Sith Empire. Not everyone in the Empire is a Sith, but its rulers are. For most of the Empire’s history, it was divided into twelve Spheres of Influence, with each one being ruled by a member of the Dark Council, the body of the twelve most powerful Sith Lords in the Empire that governed the Empire’s day to day affairs.”

“The ‘Dark Council,’ you say? Sounds so wonderfully charming and welcoming,” Dorian quipped.

“Oh, naturally,” Aloisia returned with a grim smile. “Sith politics are ruthless. The most common way for a Sith to advance their station is to kill the one who stands above them. There are social norms to follow, but it’s a society where the strongest rule over all others. And as for the ‘darkness’ we supposedly embrace, it is a label that was foisted upon us before we were ever called Sith. Millennia ago, there was a conflict of ideals between the Force-users known as Jedi. My ancestors were exiled from that society, and they would go on to form the foundations of what would eventually become the Sith Empire as I knew it. During the initial schism, the Jedi took the mantle of light unto themselves, and they decried their opposition as servants of darkness. For whatever reasons, the labels have stuck ever since.”

“I see. Actually, I really don’t,” Dorian confessed. He had thousands of other questions about her society, about these Jedi she spoke of, about who-could-say what other societies might exist out there among the stars. “I have too many questions that don’t really relate to anything happening here on this world. I imagine the tales of you acquiring your sacred blade of fire and your unique armor are fabrications as well.”

“Mostly,” Aloisia admitted. “My armor was simply purchased, though it was tailored to my body specifically, and I had an artist recolor the markings to match my hair and my lightsaber. And no Sith or Jedi would be complete without their lightsaber. It may look easy to wield in my hands, but there’s more to it than simply waving it around. There’s the lack of physical weight to account for in the blade, and there’s also the very tangible, less mundane sort of weight that the Force exerts on the wielder should they be either unprepared or not properly attuned to the weapon. The core of a lightsaber is the substance that you know as lyrium, though I know it by different names, that much is true.”

“Attuned to the weapon, you say?” Dorian mused. “Is that why your wife used a red blade while you use the fire-colored one?”

“Exactly the case,” she confirmed. “Now, there is one more thing I will clarify before I put a moratorium on further questions, and I will tell you why I am even here in the first place.”

“The question had crossed my mind,” Dorian admitted. “If you’re to be believed, you could go anywhere in the galaxy, to places that I literally can’t imagine. Why come here, specifically?”

“It wasn’t my choice, actually,” Aloisia said. Dorian’s felt his eyes go wide at that. “Really, I was sent here by my enemies who wanted me out of their way. They chose the most isolated place they could think of and left me for dead. Some would call it good luck that this world doesn’t just support life, but is in fact a true garden world, in just the right orbit to support every possible biome. Such worlds are remarkably rare in the galaxy.”

“You sound like you don’t believe it was good luck,” Dorian prompted, wondering what Aloisia Kallig truly did make of her circumstances.

“I don’t believe in luck in general,” she said. “You harness the Force when you cast spells, but the mages of this world have barely scratched the surface of what is possible. The Force fuels your magic, but as best I can tell, nobody has taken the time to truly study the Force itself, to wonder what it is, why it is, how it works, and so on.”

“You keep using that word as a way to describe magic,” Dorian said. “Tell me. What is this ‘Force,’ exactly?”

“The Force, Dorian,” Aloisia said, “is the energy of life that binds all things in the universe. It is a tool to be used, it is an ally to be called upon, it is a current to guide us down the path of our lives, and it is so much more should we simply take the time to look for the answers. Some believe that the Force has a will of its own, and I know too much to discard such notions as impossible. I believe that the Force brought me here for a reason, but I don’t know what that reason is.

“What I can tell you about my intentions, Dorian, are that I intend to seal the Breach, and then to help this world heal from the wounds it has been suffering from for centuries,” Aloisia said wistfully. “So many injustices based on mere superstition have ruled this world for all of its recorded history. I am likely to spend the rest of my life here, Dorian, and I mean to leave a better world behind me when I die.”

“And therein lies a not insignificant problem,” Dorian said, amazed that he was even having this conversation. “Can you truly die, Aloisia? Or will you and your wife remain bound to each other’s death and life forever and ever?”

“Force, I hope not,” Aloisia said. “For now, our bond prevents me from dying prematurely, but immortality is simply unnatural. All things die, Dorian. One day, even your sun will die, and this world will die in the process. But such things take endless eons to come about. I plan to spend my life doing what I can to better this world. All of this world, and when I have grown old and my time comes, I will release my beloved and then join her in death. Or perhaps not, if the Jedi Code is to be believed. The last line of their code says, ‘There is no death. There is only the Force.’ I could spend months debating the meaning of that line alone, but for now, know that I believe that all things must end eventually. It is only the most arrogant of fools who believe themselves above the laws of nature, and I fear the Venatori’s Elder One may be such a being.”

Dorian sat in silence for a time, reflecting on what Aloisia had told him. She wasn’t from Thedas, and but for a turn of bad luck or else a touch of destiny, depending on one’s perspective, she would never have even come here to this world at all. She claimed to want what was best for Thedas, and her voice held no lies that he could discern. That being said, the Sith Empire she claimed to hail from did not seem like a good role model for the world. It sounded all too much like the ancient Imperium.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not looking to recreate the Sith Empire here in Thedas,” Aloisia said.

“I’m sorry, but are you listening to my thoughts?” Dorian asked. It was an absurd notion, but so much about Aloisia Kallig was absurd. It felt like something worth asking, just to be safe.

“Not always, not consciously, but you were thinking very loudly, to employ a metaphor,” she offered in explanation. “In truth, I once led an Alliance that I tried to use to keep the peace between the Empire and the Republic it once went to war with. But a betrayal left me suddenly without the power to prevent either side from starting the war again, and I was forced to choose a side to support. I chose the Republic over the Empire. The Republic outlawed slavery, it welcomed all voices from all species, and its government was – at least in theory – ruled by the populace themselves. In practice, it was a mess, but the sentiment was quite lovely. Alas, not everyone in the Republic was keen on my aid, and so they banished me here to Thedas. Neither Empire nor Republic held all the answers, but a middle path that straddles the lines between light and dark, between passivity and aggression, a balance of all things… That is what I hope to bring to Thedas.”

Aloisia took a breath and looked up. “Do you believe what I have told you, Dorian?”

In truth, he wasn’t sure. He was very far from sure. “I think that I would like to believe you,” he said truthfully. “And until I can be certain, I think I will stick around and see what path you choose to take. You’re a very interesting woman, Aloisia Kallig, and you've likely experienced things unlike anything Thedas has never known. Such a perspective is certain to usher in great change, but I can’t say whether it would be for good or for ill. I have my hopes, but then again, I’ve ever been an insufferable idealist. So let’s see where you lead the Inquisition, Aloisia Kallig. If nothing else, it’s sure to be incredibly exciting.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Dorian,” she warned as she rose to her feet. “If you had lived through what I have, you’d sacrifice much for a quiet, boring life. But for now, I think all that’s left is a bit of waiting for preparations to be confirmed and completed.

“And once that’s done with,” Aloisia said with grim finality, “the time will finally have come for me to close the Breach. Just one more trial to either pass or else die trying.”

Chapter Text

Sera was feeling nervous, and a fair bit more so than she had been ever since she’d first joined up with the Inquisition. Everyone in Haven had woken up this morning knowing that come sunset, the Blade of the Maker would reach up her glowing hand and finally close the bloody Breach in the sky. Assuming, of course, that all of the magic from all of the mages all around them didn’t blow up in everyone’s faces.

Really, Sera hadn’t known what to expect when she’d sent the messages on her arrows back in Val Royeaux. It felt like forever ago, but all she had known at the time was that there was someone called ‘the Blade of the Maker’ who could somehow make the world go back to normal. No more hole in the sky, no more little people getting trampled on because of stuck-up nobles or mages or Templars or anyone else.

And then she’d met Aloisia Kallig and she’d seemed like a normal person at first. She was fun to be around, and she actually had a sense of humor. She wasn't at all like most of the idiots here, all serious and bent out of shape about their holy crusade. Sera believed in the Maker and the Chant like everyone else, but the stories were supposed to be just that: stories.

On their way back to Haven from their first meeting in Val Royeaux, they’d come across a few Fade rifts, and the first one had introduced Sera to why they called Aloisia the 'Blade of the Maker.' It wasn’t so much that she was a blade of some sort, but that she carried an actual sword made of real fucking fire! And yeah, in the stories, Hessarian had used his own sword to give Andraste mercy instead of letting her burn alive, and that’s why the flaming sword could be seen everywhere. But there was a real big difference between a sword on fire and a sword made of fire. The last of those was just… It was like a fairy tale come to life.

Fairy tales were not supposed to come to life! Even the whole magic hand that closed the rifts wasn’t as utterly nutters as the fire sword. And then they got back on the road, and Aloisia went back to acting all normal, as if nothing strange had happened at all. Well, maybe for her, everything was normal. For Sera, however, everything was suddenly upside-down, and she had let Aloisia know exactly how crazy everything had seemed to her.

It was a stupid thing to do, and Sera had been terrified like nothing else when the words had left her mouth. A good rule for staying alive was probably, 'don't piss off the woman with the fire sword.' But, thank the Maker, Aloisia Kallig was a person before anything else, and she just went with it easy as anything. And the more that Sera got to know her, the easier it was to see Aloisia in simpler terms. The world was broken, and she had the power to fix it, so she would. Simple and straightforward, no need to make things stupid by getting all complicated.

Allying with the mages hadn’t put Sera’s mind at ease, but at least Aloisia was trying to be smart about it. Yeah, mages were just as much people as anyone else, or so said the Chant, but they were scary. There was a reason why Tevinter was full of bad guys, and it was usually magic in some form or another. But Aloisia had been super-clear about the whole ‘magic is to serve man’ part of it all. Which was maybe fair or maybe so generous that it was stupid. Mages being helpful instead of rampaging across the world was better than mages locked away in Circles, or at least they could be. Maybe? Sera hadn’t thought to question the Circles until they’d all gone to shit and exploded and rebelled and everything. It was scary at first, but it made a weird sort of sense when Sera could bite back her fear for long enough to stop thinking of them as mages and start thinking of them as people, but that part was really, really hard. But then, if you lock people up just because they're born weird, they’re not gonna like it. Do it for long enough, and someone's bound to try and do something about it.

All the same, it was super-hard to think of mages as little people at all, not when they had so much power just by being what they were. Mages and Circles had been the way they'd been forever, and while some people said that things had to go back to the way they were with the Circles, Aloisia and a lot of others were saying that putting things back exactly the same would just create another big problem for someone else to deal with later on. Sera didn’t know which was right, but Aloisia was calling the shots, and she seemed like a decent enough person.

Things had seemed good enough, but then there had been the showdown with the cult on the Storm Coast, and Aloisia had gotten super scary super fast. When she’d called Sera over to talk with her, Sera had thought that she was done for. She just knew that Aloisia wouldn’t like what Sera would have to say, and she was gonna get cut down with that fire sword. And if she was about to die, then Sera would at least give the bloody Blade of the Maker a piece of her mind before she did.

Between her strange magic and her fire sword, Sera knew that if Aloisia wanted her dead, she stood no chance, plain and simple. And then she’d answered Sera’s accusations in the last way she’d expected. She tried to explain herself, and even if she hadn’t convinced Sera that she was right at the moment, she’d offered to let her in on secret, important-people stuff to make sure she didn’t become a baddie.

And Aloisia was afraid. Not just of Leliana, though only an idiot wouldn’t be scared of the Nightingale. No, Aloisia was scared that she herself might become a baddie, and she’d told Sera to kill her if she ever did. Sera would keep watching, but ever since that conversation in the woods, she’d felt a lot better about the leader of the Inquisition. Aloisia knew how powerful she was, and she knew what that power could do to her, and she didn’t want it to go that far.

But to put something so important in Sera’s hands of all people… Maker, it was just too much! And now, with only hours to go before the Breach was supposed to be closed, the super-scary Nightingale herself had snuck up on Sera and asked her to go and talk with Her Bladeyship. Not about anything in particular, just talk with her, Leliana had said.

As scary as Aloisia could be, Sera felt that she would be straight with her if she ever got mad. With Leliana, she’d never see it coming. So she shut her mouth and did as she was told. And now she was walking down through Haven towards the rare building that was home to a single person. In a city like Denerim, it wouldn’t be so rare, but Haven was far smaller than any other place with people living in it than Sera had ever been to. It just seemed wrong to use so much space for one person, even if it was the Blade of the Maker.

As she made her way to the cabin, Sera noticed a human man standing guard in front of the door with a sword and shield at the ready. He stood entirely still, and it wasn’t until she got closer that Sera realized how wrong the man was. His head was branded, making him a bloody tranquil! What was he doing here with weapons and such?

“Thank you for coming, Sera,” he said in that freaky voice that was just empty and wrong. “Please wait just a moment.”

He turned and knocked on the door with the knuckles of the hand holding his sword. “Lady Kallig? Sera is here to see you at Sister Nightingale’s request.”

Oh, of course Leliana would be the one to find a way to take something scary and wrong and make it even scarier and more wrong. All the same, Sera was surprised to hear Aloisia come to open the door herself. “Thank you, Clemence,” she said to the tranquil. “Please, Sera. Come on in.”

Sera followed Aloisia inside, trying very hard to look anywhere but at the tranquil, and then closed the door behind her. “So… What’s with the freaky new bodyguard, eh?”

“Leliana’s idea,” Aloisia said with a frown as she sat down on a bed. An actual, proper bed, here in Haven. “Take a seat, Sera. There’s a chair over there, and I promise I won’t bite if you want to sit next to me on the bed. There’s plenty of room.”

Here in this small home, with the soldiers and the spies and the entire world on the other side of these four walls, it was easier to just relax and see Aloisia as a person, so she took the offered seat next to Aloisia on the bed just to the right of her, trying not to look too close at her pretty face or her flowing red hair and get herself caught up in thoughts that she shouldn't have about the Blade of the Maker. Once she felt sure enough of herself, she took a breath and spoke. “Last I checked, tranquil were all about enchantment, like dwarves or some such. What’s one doing with a sword?”

“You may not remember, but Clemence was in the tavern in Redcliffe where we first met Alexius,” Aloisia said. “The magister didn’t like tranquil in his domain. Didn’t like being reminded what could happen to him. So I sent Clemence to organize the other tranquil and get them to safety. It turns out that while we were off meeting Dorian and learning about the Venatori, Clemence and his group had joined up with some Inquisition scouts who were set upon by bandits. One of them shoved a sword into Clemence’s hands and told him to defend himself and the other tranquil. And he did just that.”

“What?” Sera asked bluntly. That wasn’t right. “But a tranquil isn’t… Well, they’re not really a person anymore, are they? How can they even do that?”

“Simple. He’s tranquil,” Aloisia said as if that explained it all. Of course it didn’t, but thankfully she didn’t seem to be done. “Clemence feels no doubt, no uncertainty, nothing at all. He has nothing but focus on the task at hand. So when he was told to defend the other tranquil, he watched the fighting just out of reach. He watched how the swords were swung, how the bodies moved, which wounds could be withstood and which would prove fatal, and he took that knowledge with the focus that only comes to those with no emotions to distract them. And when he needed to use the knowledge he had just gleaned, he did so without hesitation. He had been given a task, so he carried it out. For a tranquil, that’s all there is.”

Sera was horrified. She knew that tranquil were freaky, but they’d always just been weird to see and to be around. Hearing what it was like to be one… She’d heard about it, yeah, but she’d never really thought too much about it. “That’s just… That’s worse than slavery, yeah? At least a slave can think what they want and they can feel angry about being a slave. That guy… He doesn’t even get a choice.”

“It’s worse than that, Sera. He’s lost the ability to understand the concept of choice at all. If he hadn’t told me himself that he was thankful that I got him out of Redcliffe and away from Alexius, I wouldn’t have let him stay there. But for a tranquil, having a purpose is about as close to a fulfilling life as they can have, so I’m allowing him to stand guard. At the very least, he can’t be bribed, can’t be threatened, can’t be persuaded to leave his post, and he can’t do anything at all other than stand guard like he’s been told. I could try to order Leliana to undo this, but if I did, she’d just do worse behind my back.

“Have you ever thought as to why the rich and the powerful tend to abuse the power they have, Sera?" Aloisia asked. "Does Red Jenny ever wonder why the rich nobs even need to be taken down a peg in the first place?”

Sera actually had wondered such things. “Thought about it, yeah. Never could make much sense of it.”

“At the end of the day, it’s about power, Sera,” Aloisia said as she rested her chin in her hands, her elbows resting on her legs. “Power comes in many forms, but the kind of people that Red Jenny deals with, their power is in their wealth. When you have money, you have the power to buy things that an ordinary person never even thinks about. Not just material things, but influence over people, information and secrets, the lives and deaths of your friends and enemies. It can all be yours for the right price. And when you have the power to do something, it’s all too easy to think, ‘I can do this, so why not?’ Do you remember our talk on the Storm Coast?”

“Oh, yeah. I remember, all right,” Sera said. How could she bloody well forget something like that?

“I asked you to keep an eye on me because I have power. My magic is a form of power. So is my lightsaber. The people look to the Blade of the Maker and see someone worthy of respect and reverence, and so I have power over them because of their beliefs. Cullen’s soldiers, Leliana’s spies, Josephine’s contacts in the noble houses, all of it is power of some sort that I can use. And the more power you have, the more things are possible that you never imagined could ever be yours for the taking.

“I’ve had practice, and I remember what it was like to be at the mercy of others, but I still have to ask myself whenever I make a choice… This is something I can do. But is it something that I should do? Will this decision that I make with my power help the people that I want to protect, or will it only serve to give me alone more power? And make no mistake, power is a trap for far too many people. They become obsessed with gaining more power, allowing them to do more, to have more, to control more. In the end, it benefits nobody, not even themselves. Everything ends and everyone dies. If all you care about is power, then you really have nothing at all. But power is sneaky. When you can do so many things, it’s so easy to say ‘Just this once, I’ll do something just for me.’ And then it’s ‘just one more time.’ And on it goes until the person you once were has disappeared, and all that’s left is an empty shell that cares only for power, and who doesn’t care for what that power can do for anyone, not even themselves. They just want power for the sake of power itself.”

Sera didn’t know what to think, but she tried to make sense of Aloisia’s words all the same. For most of her life, things had been simple. The big people stepped on the little people, so Sera became Red Jenny to stick up for those too scared to stand up for themselves. And here she was, sitting on a bed next to one of the biggest big people around, and Aloisia had used a lot of words to explain just how big of a person she was, but it wasn’t to brag and show off her massive tits. Not that her tits were that big, but she didn’t have a dick to swing around, but it was the same thing, yeah? Big people swinging their big parts around to show how big they were.

“So, what you’re saying is, you’ve got the biggest tits around, and you’re trying hard not to swing them about and say, ‘Look at me, look how big my tits are,’ because when you do that, you become a baddie who only cares about getting the biggest tits they can until that’s all they care about, right? But that’s good, innit? You’re a big person, yeah, and you know that you could be bigger, but you’re trying not to get so big that your head becomes all swollen like your massive tits, yeah?”

Aloisia laughed out loud, and it was a beautiful sound to Sera’s ears. It was proof that despite all the power she had, she was still a person. People laughed, and people cared. When you got too big, you had to stop doing those things, didn’t you?

“Thank you for that, Sera,” Aloisia said. She moved her arm, and it looked like she was about to pull Sera into a hug, but she pulled back at the last moment. “I’m sorry. It’s just… You’re a good person, Sera. You’re a good friend. And I’d very much like to give you a nice hug and tell you how wonderful you are, but I’m aware that being this close to a ‘big person’ can be intimidating to some people. And that’s another way in which power is a trap. The moment you become a ‘big person,’ everyone else starts to look at you like you’re apart from them, so they keep their distance. And so you get further away from them until you forget what it’s like for normal people, and so it’s easier to feel all right with doing horrible things to them. I don’t want to become that kind of person, Sera. There are very few things that scare me more than that.”

Sera made a decision then and there, and she stood up and then fell on top of the Blade of the Maker, holding her close as they fell backwards onto the bed. “You’re maybe the least stupid person I’ve ever met, Aloisia. And there are too many stupid big people around. More than that, you’re a good person. You give a shite about what might happen when you swing your tits around. And I kind of wish you’d take off your armor once in a while so I can see how big your tits really are, if they’re even there underneath the armor at all.”

Alosisia chuckled as her arms wrapped around Sera in turn. “Thank you, Sera. But if I didn’t know any better, you’re just looking for an excuse to cop a feel, aren’t you? Want to squeeze the Blade of the Maker’s massive tits, do you?”

Sera laughed to herself and decided to play along, hoping that Aloisia would stay a person. “So they really are that big, are they?”

“Oh, the very biggest,” Aloisia replied so seriously that it had to be a joke. “Would you believe me if I told you that some people – the kind of women my old master used to entertain as guests – were so vain that they actually had surgery that basically stuffed up their chest to make their breasts bigger? All to look as pretty as possible?”

“Really? You can do that?” Sera asked. Was Aloisia being serious? If so… Oh, this was too good to be true. But if it was real, then Sera had to look around and find someone like that. Oh, the fun she could have.

“You can, but there’s something to be said for natural beauty, I like to think,” Aloisia said seriously, but not without warmth as she sat up and pushed Sera off of her. “Everyone can make their own choices, and it’s not for me to judge. But if I could have Lana back in my arms, I wouldn’t change a thing about her. If I had met her and she’d chosen it for herself, I’d have loved her all the same. But I wouldn’t dare ask her to change who she is. I fell in love with the woman, not with any one part of her. If you’re lucky, Sera, you’ll find someone who loves every single part of you just as you are, and who sees that the whole is greater than the parts put together.”

“All right, that’s enough of that,” Sera said as she sat back down next to Aloisia. “This is… I mean, it’s the big day, innit? You’re gonna close the Breach! You’ve got bigger shite to worry about than my next lay, never mind something more.”

Aloisia chuckled and wrapped an arm around Sera's shoulders. “Why do you think Leliana sent you here? Why not come herself? Or why not send Josephine or Dorian? I get along with them well enough. Leliana is many things, but she isn’t stupid, and she rarely does anything without a reason.”

That was a good question, and Sera berated herself for not giving it more thought. “I dunno. I just did what she said. Didn’t want to upset the Nightingale, y’know?”

“I know, Sera,” she said. “But I’ve known this day was coming for a while. Until the moment comes, I need to rest and save my energy. When I eat, I’m going to have a big lunch to sate myself ahead of the task before me. But it’s still incredibly dangerous. For all I know, this may be my last act in this world." Aloisia paused for a moment and rested her head on Sera's shoulder. "And you, Sera? How do I put this?”

Sera wasn’t used to people using her as a pillow, but she couldn’t just slide away from the bloody Blade of the Maker, could she? Did she even want to? Aloisia seemed to need to just be a person, so Sera would let her be that for now.

“When I was learning how to focus my mind to control my magic,” Aloisia said, “I was taught a way to learn what I was thinking, even if I didn’t realize it. I would say a word, and then say the very next word that came to mind. I wouldn’t think about, I would just say it. It helps to find out what can distract you. One time, I said ‘Lana,’ and the next word out of my mouth was ‘legs.’ It told me a lot about how I felt about my beloved, and it helped me realize that I needed to put both my love and my lust out of my mind so that I could use my magic without hurting anyone. Are you with me so far, Sera?”

“I think so,” Sera said, but in truth, she wasn’t really sure. “Your lady love had nice legs, and thinking about that when casting a spell could hurt people by mistake, yeah?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. When I think Josephine, I think ‘diplomat.’ Leliana is ‘ruthless.’ Dorian is ‘smart and pretty and he knows it.’ But when I think ‘Sera,’ do you know what comes to mind? ‘Person.’ That’s why Leliana sent you here, because you’re what I need to help me fix the hole in the sky. In many ways, Sera, you are the most important member of the Inquisition because of what you represent.”

“What, me?” Sera said, standing up and taking a step back. “What d’you mean, 'I’m important?' How does that even happen?”

“Because, Sera,” Aloisia said with a warm, thin smile, sitting up straight to look her in the eyes. “To me, you are a representative of the people. Not the mages, not the Templars, not the Chantry, not Orlais or Ferelden or Nevarra, nor elves or humans or any one group at all. You are a decent, good person, Sera. And when I look at you, I remember why I have the power I do, and I remember what I should do and what I should not do, because my mission is to help the people of Thedas. All of the people. And where everyone else has their own agendas with some group or another or else just themselves, you came to me because you wanted to help the ordinary people of the world who might not be able to speak up without you.

“I look at you, Sera, and I see the path that helps the most people in the best way possible. And it’s not fair that you’ve become this person in my eyes. In a way, you’ve become a big person yourself, if only to stop bigger people from becoming monsters. And if I’m to close the Breach today, whether I live or die, I want to do so knowing that I’m doing it for the right reasons. And if I survive, I want to remember why I did it, and I want to keep doing the right things for the right reasons. Do you get that, Sera?”

Sera shook her head as if to will away what Aloisia was saying, but she only ended up making herself dizzy. “No, no, no! You can’t… I’m not like that!” she protested, horrified at the very idea. “I’m not special or anything, not at all.”

“Of course, you are, Sera,” Aloisia said. Her words were so calm and soft and gentle, and arguing against that tone seemed utterly useless. “Every single person in this world is special, Sera. Every parent, every child, every orphan, every widow, every noble, every priest, every beggar. Every single person has their own spirit that makes them a unique being. They all have dreams and hopes and loves. And it’s very easy for me to forget that sometimes, but you help me to remember because you don’t look at people and see what makes them different. You look at people and just see people, plain and simple. And if the Inquisition is to be a force for good, it needs to learn from you. I need to learn from you, Sera.”

Sera didn’t know what to say to that. It made so much sense, and it was coming from such a big person. But in the end, however big she might be, Aloisia was still a person. So Sera sidled back up to her and gave her another hug. “You’re special, too, y’know? Not because of your power or whether you’re chosen or whatever. But because you’re good. You’re special because you give a damn about… Well, about everything, really. It shouldn’t be so hard to care about people, but here you are, all special because of that.”

Sera felt Aloisia’s arms wrap around her back, and as the Blade of the Maker leaned her head into Sera’s chest, she could swear she felt a tear dampen her shirt. “You’re right, Sera. It’s wrong that too many people simply choose not to care. I’m hoping to change that if I can. Can I count on your help?”

“Pfft. Of course, you can, stupid! Why d’you think I’m even here?” Sera asked with a laugh.

“I think you’re here because you’re scared of Leliana,” Aloisia countered, but Sera could hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh, yeah. Right. Hahaha.” There was that, Sera had to admit. “Well, do you still need me here? Because I can be here for a little longer if you need me? And we can’t piss off the Nightingale, right?”

“We most certainly cannot,” Aloisia said. “Stay with me until lunch, and then I’ll need a bit of time to myself. No need to talk about anything big or important. Just whatever comes to mind. Simple things, all right?”

“Sounds good,” Sera said as she sat back down next to Aloisia, knowing just what to talk about to keep things soft and easy and kind of hot. “So, tell me again… How do I get my tits bigger, yeah?”

The sky was a beautiful blend of blue and orange and pink as the sun began to set, and Aloisia checked her arms and armor one last time before making her way down into the blasted remains of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Rows of mages with staves at the ready flanked her on either side as she strode forward towards her objective: curing the ugly green bruise that marred the otherwise beautiful sky.

The board had been set, the pieces put into place, and now it was time to make a move. As Aloisia stepped into the courtyard where she’d slain her first pride demon, only Solas and Cassandra awaited her. Everyone else was either waiting above and around her, or else safely removed from the epicenter should something go horribly wrong.

There was no point in delaying this any further. “Cassandra, Solas,” she greeted them. “Status report.”

“The mages are ready,” Solas said. “I will guide them as best I can, but their power will flow through your entire being, and most especially through the mark. You have prepared yourself, to be sure. But I will say once more: be ready for a tremendous influx of power. It will be up to you to direct it to repair the Breach.”

“Ser Barris and some of his fellow Templars are standing by should a mage succumb to the strain of this activity. The Veil is thinnest here, and we can take no chances,” Cassandra said.

“Very well,” Aloisia said. “I hope the Templars are not needed, but it’s good that we have prepared for that contingency. Is the Inquisition prepared to care for the mages’ exhaustion after this is done with?”

“We have made every possible preparation,” Cassandra said. “And what of you, my lady? Are you certain that you are fully prepared?”

Aloisia smiled at Cassandra, grateful that the seeker was still looking after her in spite of the impossibly high stakes. Or more likely because of them, but the thought was nice, regardless. “I am as ready as I will ever be, Cassandra. The longer we delay, the greater the danger will be. Solas, this is your area of expertise. Tell me where to stand, and if you have any final instructions, I am ready to hear them.”

It was difficult to put any trust at all in Solas, but whatever his intentions were, he had seemed committed to closing the Breach. In the dark future, the world that had come to pass was an ‘abomination’ in his own words. Given the meaning of the word when it came to possession, Aloisia wondered if there was a different meaning behind that future Solas's words than what was more readily apparent.

“Right here, directly beneath the center of the Breach,” Solas directed her as she moved to where he indicated. “Yes, precisely. Stay there, and be ready to reach out with the mark when you feel the power flow through you, and you will surely feel it. Direct it upward, towards the Breach, and do not stumble.”

“I understand,” she said quietly, without elaboration. This was no time for small talk or idle words. There was one job to do, one vitally important job, and anything else was a distraction or an indulgence, neither of which could be afforded now.

Aloisia steadied her breathing and looked skyward towards the Breach. It was far smaller than it had been in a possible future, and if she had her way, it would cease to be here and now and never threaten this world again.

“Mages!” Cassandra called to the crowd standing above and behind her.

“Focus past the Blade,” Solas instructed. “Let her will draw from you!”

At an unspoken signal, a cry went up from a mage, and Aloisia felt her being swell with power. She was not meant to keep or contain it, merely to guide it. She reached her hand upward, and the Breach seemed to reach downward to meet her, surrounding her with swirling tendrils of green energy. It was a powerful thing she was being set against, but she was borrowing the power of the people of this world, and together, they would see this threat ended.

In the end, the Breach was little more than another rift, just a far larger one. She focused her will as she had done several times now, willing the magic to close the wound like a needle sewing shut a cut in someone’s skin. She threaded the invisible needle again and again and again, carefully, steadily, making sure to do it right, not to rush it. Almost there, just a little bit further…

A blast rent the air, and Aloisia was thrown backwards, and she landed on her backside on the rocky ground. Opening her eyes, Aloisia looked up and saw the stars of the night sky as the sun began to retreat from the light of day. Before she knew it, Cassandra was pulling her to her feet.

“You did it!” she said with more joy than Aloisia had ever heard from the seeker. Cheers went up from the assembled mages, but Solas merely allowed himself a small smile. For her part, Aloisia couldn't help but grin like a joyous child. All of her efforts since the tragedy at the Conclave had been towards this end, towards fixing this terrible mistake. And now, it was finally done.  The Breach had been sealed at last.

“Everything will change now,” Aloisia said half to herself, half to Cassandra. “This was merely the first step. Our mission statement hasn’t changed. We still need to find the one responsible for this.” Aloisia had shared her knowledge of the future with Leliana and King Alistair, but not with anyone else just yet. Before the Inquisition could take on such a powerful foe, they had needed to establish themselves as a force worth heeding, one that could not be ignored. Closing the Breach would hopefully have the effect of granting the Inquisition legitimacy beyond Divine Justina’s dying wish.

“Indeed, we do,” Cassandra agreed. “But that can wait. You must be exhausted. Haven has been preparing to celebrate, and with the sky restored to us, you can be sure that the town will be full of festivities upon our return.”

“I have been more tired than this before, Cassandra,” Aloisia said. “And now that the Breach has been closed, I can finally address a lingering issue that has gone unresolved for too long. No one will be able to ignore us anymore, and our decisions will carry a great deal more weight moving forward. I need to consider one such decision that I have been putting off for too long, now that I have reason to believe it will be respected.”

“What exactly are you speaking of, my lady?” Cassandra asked as she fell into step behind Aloisia as they walked back towards Haven.

Aloisia sighed at the knowledge that she’d finally have to deal with a very unpleasant issue. “First Enchanter Vivienne has been in the dungeons beneath the chantry for some time now. We did not have the legitimacy to properly try her for her crimes, but once we receive due recognition, the time will be ripe to do so. I intend to pay her a visit and take stock of her condition, and to let her know what has happened during her absence from the world at large.”

Before Cassandra could answer, an Inquisition scout - a human man - came running up to them, clearly in a hurry, for he stopped to pant and regain his breath rather than saluting. “Your Worship, Lady Seeker. My apologies, but word from Commander Cullen. He received a warning that forces are marching on Haven, coming down the mountainside," he said.

“He received a warning?” Aloisia asked, her voice dire with suspicion. “He and his men did not spot this invasion themselves? Who warned him?”

“The strangest thing, Your Worship, but it was the smith’s new apprentice. Tanya, I think her name was,” the scout said. “She told a soldier who told the Commander, but when he went to look for her, she was gone.”

“The smith’s apprentice?” Cassandra said, and Aloisia’s mind returned to the distinctive armor, so much like her own, that Scout Harding had sported on the Storm Coast. Just who was this Tanya woman? Was she a hidden ally, or was she an enemy spy trying to sow chaos in their ranks? More importantly, how had Aloisia missed getting to know someone in her organization?  Regardless of the doubts, if the warning was real, then they couldn’t afford to ignore it.

“Cassandra, get back to the village and coordinate with Cullen,” Aloisia commanded. “Ready the trebuchets and the ballistae. Get the civilians into the chantry for safety. Tell them that there may be some aftereffects from the magic that closed the Breach. We don’t want to cause a panic if we can help it.”

“I will try, my lady,” Cassandra said. “But you may not understand just how much people have been waiting for this moment. Their desire to believe that the danger is past may blind them to my words.”

“Then invite them to celebrate within the chantry. Let them hang their underwear on a bust of Andraste, their sins be forgiven for one night. Just keep them safe, Cassandra,” Aloisia hissed as she broke into a sprint towards Haven.

It wasn’t too far, but it was uphill. Thankfully, the Force granted her the energy she needed to stave off exhaustion. Vivienne would have to wait. She needed to confer with Commander Cullen. Her orders to Cassandra were likely to be outdated, given that she would reach Cullen before the seeker, but so be it. Aloisia didn’t always think things through so thoroughly in the heat of the moment, but Lana had usually been there to aid her before.

”I’m still here, Aloy, never you fear,” Lana said. "But right now, you need to focus. I’ll keep you on track if you need me. For now, please trust in yourself, my love.”

“I will,” Aloisia said aloud as she bound through the gates of Haven, jostling her way through throngs of celebrating crowds, up to the chanty where Cullen was waiting. Leliana was by his side, as were Josephine and Chancellor Roderick. She made her way up to them as quickly as they could.

“Lady Blade,” Cullen said. “Did my runner reach you? We’ve been trying to make sense of this warning, but whomever this Tanya woman is, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“I got the message, and it’s why I ran here as fast as I could. I’m suspicious as well, but we can’t take the chance that her warning is false. We need to move the civilians to safety. The chantry is the most secure building we have, but I fear it won’t be enough. Josephine, Chancellor Roderick, we may soon be under attack by the one responsible for the Breach. Please try to move everyone into the chantry without causing a panic. Invite them to celebrate closer to the Maker, if you like. It may be blasphemy, but I’d rather save lives and take the blame for any sins than risk anyone I can possibly save from harm.”

“Of course, my lady,” Josephine said without missing a beat. “Chancellor Roderick, perhaps the invitation might be best coming from you.”

“Maker, are you sure about this, Lady Blade?” Roderick asked.

“Honestly, no,” Aloisia confessed. “But I don’t believe in coincidence. Things happen when they happen, and they do so for a reason. I believe we’re at a conflux of some sorts, and I want us to be prepared for the worst. Hopefully, there is no real threat, but I’d rather play things safe rather than leave anything to chance. Cullen, get your forces ready to fight, but do it quietly. And most importantly, prepare the trebuchets and the ballistae.”

“The trebuchets, I understand, but why the ballistae, my lady? What sort of enemy are you expecting to fight?” Cullen said, the doubt plain in his voice.

Aloisia closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. She had intended to tell her other advisors, but she’d thought she would have more time. “Walk with me, commander,” she said as she strolled down towards her cabin. They made their way through the celebrating masses, and Clemence was still standing guard. “Clemence? Please make sure that Commander Cullen and I are not disturbed, and rest while you can. We may need you to fight to defend the people of Haven, but do not speak of it, lest we cause a panic.”

“Very well, Lady Kallig,” Clemence said in his monotone.

Aloisia rushed Cullen inside and closed the door behind her. “All right. I thought we’d have more time, so you can yell at me all you want later, but for now, I beg you to keep your voice down," Aloisia said. "Whatever you do, do not yell or scream or panic at what I am about to tell you.”

“Maker, you’re scaring me,” Cullen said. “Just tell me and get it over with. What are you expecting to face?”

Aloisia steadied her breathing before she spoke again. “During my trip to the future, I came upon intelligence that suggests that the person responsible for the Breach has command of a blighted dragon. To be clear, it is not an archdemon. It is not an Old God, but it is still a dragon corrupted by the Blight. That is what the ballistae are for.”

“You can’t be serious,” Cullen said, his voice low and accusatory.

“I made a terrible mistake by not telling you, I know. But I am entirely serious, commander," Aloisia said, mentally berating herself for keeping all of this information to herself up until now. "Besides the dragon, tell your men to expect Venatori, demons both bound and unbound, and possibly darkspawn as well.  Lastly - and I very much hope I’m wrong - but there may also be Grey Wardens among the enemy.”

“Grey Wardens?! You mean to say their disappearance is… How and why would the Grey Wardens of all people ever be a part of such madness?!”

“Keep your voice down!” Aloisia shushed. “It would take too long to explain, and we don’t have the time. Just get this town ready to defend itself, and do it quietly. If there’s a panic, there could be a stampede, and not only will civilians die, but our soldiers’ jobs will be that much harder. You have every right to be mad at me, and you definitely deserve answers, but they can wait until we’ve done everything we can to save the people of Haven? Do you understand your mission, commander?”

The appeal to Cullen’s inner soldier had the desired effect as he straightened his posture and nodded his head quietly. “I understand. Maker, I hope you’re wrong, but I’ll see it done.”

“Good man. Let’s go.” Orders having been issued, Cullen opened the door and left, leaving Aloisia to follow. “Clemence, please stay close to me. There may be a battle upon us, and you can be trusted to remain calm in the face of danger. Stay by my side, but defend yourself, the Inquisition’s forces, and the people of Haven should any of you be threatened. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Lady Kallig. I will accompany you.”

“Thank you, Clemence. We’re going to the Chantry to tie up a loose end. And speaking of which… Ser Barris! Please come here, quickly!”

The Templar came as quickly as he could, but he was clearly tired after coming from the Temple of Sacred Ashes in full plate armor. “My lady! Word is there may be an attack. What are we facing?”

“Unclear as of yet, but I fear your skills may be needed. Give me a moment and hold still,” she commanded. Closing her yes, Aloisia let the Force flow from her own self and into Barris, rejuvenating and revitalizing him for the fight that she feared was at hand. She opened her eyes and looked at the Templar. “How do you feel, soldier?”

“Like I just woke up from a good night’s sleep,” he said in amazement. “Thank you, my lady. My sword is yours for as long as you need it.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that, but please come with me quietly. I need to pay a visit to a prisoner. Specifically, a maleficar. Hopefully your talents won’t be needed here, either, but be ready all the same.”

Aloisia could feel Barris’s surprise, but he did not speak out, and she felt no fear from him. Instead, she felt his resolve turn as hard as cortosis, ready to take anything that came at him. Feeling reassured herself, Aloisia entered the chantry, making her way past throngs of people who were confused about where, exactly, the big party was supposed to be happening at.

Finally, they were in, and they made their way downstairs to the dungeons. A pair of guards stood at the door, and sitting on a bench in front of Vivienne’s cell…

“Enchanter Francine! I didn’t expect to see you here of all places on tonight of all nights,” Aloisia said warmly, happy to see one of the former Senior Enchanters of Montsimmard once more.

Francine smiled, but did not look away from the cell. “I was needed here. While I believe that Vivienne has accepted her defeat, I felt it prudent that someone watch over her.”

“Yes, I’m such a terrible threat to the world that you mean to save with all the forethought of a spoiled child,” Vivienne spat from behind bars. “And why has the Blade of the Maker deigned to grace me with her esteemed and noble presence?”

“I had intended to speak with you about your upcoming trial given the status the Inquisition is likely to enjoy now that the Breach has finally been closed. And yes, I did manage that. You’re welcome,” Aloisia spat. “I had intended to give you a proper trial once we had been formally recognized as having that authority, but I’m afraid I don’t have that luxury anymore. Francine, I’m afraid I must ask you to ready yourself for battle. I have reason to believe that the person behind the Breach’s creation is marching on Haven with a considerable force at his disposal.”

“At ‘his’ disposal, you say?” Francine asked as she stood up. “Then you know who it was that did this?”

“I have strong suspicions that I very much hope are not true, but I must act as if they are. We need all the help we can get. Guards, you are relieved of this post. Go and find Commander Cullen and follow whatever orders he has for you. Dismissed.”

“So your victory is a pyrrhic one, then, is it?” Vivienne remarked as the guards left. “A pity, truly. If we are to be attacked, then I would lend you my aid. It is in my interests to help you, as it would help me as well. There is nothing to be gained by keeping me locked up in here anymore. And can you truly afford to turn away help against such a foe as you describe?”

“Perhaps, or perhaps not,” Aloisia said as she briefly considered her options. After a moment's thought, she mentally finalized her earlier decision. “Ser Barris, Clemence, Francine: please make your way up the stairs to the chantry. I will join you shortly after I speak with the prisoner.”

Barris and Francine exchanged a dire look with one another while Clemence did as he was told. “I have given my orders,” Aloisia said in a tone that brooked no argument. “Carry them out.”

“Very well,” Barris said sadly. “Let’s go, Enchanter.”

“As you say, my lady,” Francine said with an equally sad look on her face. “Goodbye, Vivienne.” So saying, the two of them retreated up the stairs, leaving Aloisia alone in the dungeons with the former first enchanter of Montsimmard.

“Why send your faithful followers away?” Vivienne asked. “Is there something you don’t want them to hear, perhaps? Some secret that explains your unreasonable animosity towards me?”

“Nothing so grandiose, I assure you,” Aloisia said spitefully. “And by the looks on their faces and the sounds of their voices, they know exactly what I intend to do. If Haven is to be under assault, then having a maleficar running lose is a risk that we simply cannot take. And you are a maleficar, Vivienne. You used your power to lord yourself over others, and you enjoyed it. I’ve met too many like you not to recognize your ilk when I see it.”

Vivienne’s eyes widened as she stepped back as far as she could. “You can’t… You wouldn’t…”

“Oh, but I would,” Aloisia said with a feral grin. “And just between you and me? There is a secret reason why I hate you so much. When you froze poor Alphonse in place? The story I told you? I lied. It wasn’t my master who froze me for five months on and off. It was a far more powerful enemy, and he froze me for five years that I spent encased as a literal trophy hanging on his wall, and it was not time spent on and off, but constantly frozen. So believe me when I say that this is very personal, and that I will savor this moment for quite a while.”

Aloisia unclipped her lightsaber from her belt and ignited it, but Vivienne was up against the back wall of the cell, just out of her arm’s reach.

“Hmm. Forestalling the inevitable? Not for long, I’m afraid.” Pushing on her lightsaber with the Force, Aloisia had her blade lunge forward through the air to pierce Vivienne’s chest.

As the former first enchanter screamed, Aloisia recalled her blade and watched the woman as she died. The lightsaber had cauterized the wound, but there was no need to share that bit of information and give this woman that she hated any comfort. “What do you know?" Aloisia remarked coldly. "There isn’t even any blood. I guess you never did have a heart after all. Goodbye, Madam de Fer.”

Aloisia gave into her base impulses and bathed in the Dark Side, letting the dying mage’s fear and pain fuel her own power in preparation for the fight ahead. Vivienne was nothing and no one compared to the real threat, and Aloisia took immense comfort in knowing that the former first enchanter would soon suffer a fate far worse than death. For one who had once played the Great Game, Vivienne would suffer the worst fate imaginable: she would be entirely forgotten as the world moved on without her. With that knowledge soothing her heart, Aloisia Kallig made ready to do battle with her true enemy.

Corypheus was coming.

Chapter Text

“What exactly is the danger, my lady?” Francine asked as Aloisia hurried out of the chantry, the enchanter in tow along with Ser Derlin Barris and the tranquil named Clemence, all of them armed for battle.

“I’m not sure, Francine,” Aloisia confessed, “but based on what I believe to be the creator of the Breach, I’d expect almost any sort of enemy. Human, demon, darkspawn, and possibly a blighted dragon, though not an archdemon.”

“Maker, you can’t be serious,” Barris exclaimed. “How do you know this? Have you seen a vision from the Maker?”

Damn these Thedosians and their primitive superstitions! Aloisia thought to herself.  Aloud, she said, “If the Maker did send some sort of sign, then he did so via a smith’s apprentice who gave us an early warning to ready ourselves for battle. Should we find her, you can ask her yourself how she knew what was coming. If it is coming at all, but we must act as though it definitely is.”

The moment she stepped outside the chantry into the cold night air, Aloisia was answered by warning bells that meant only one thing: Haven was in imminent danger.

“Forces approaching! To arms!” Cullen called, and Aloisia could see a swathe of small lights on the distant mountainside. It had to be a veritable army bearing torches for them to be visible from so far away. And the bells would not sound if there was any possibility that they were friendly. Which could only mean…

“The enemy is upon us,” Aloisia said. “With me, to the gates!” she cried as she ran forward.

As she approached the gates of Haven, such as the were, Aloisia let out a silent prayer of thanks to whomever might be listening that the tent city for the mages had already been emptied for the sealing of the Breach. The mages would have to find their own path to safety, either with the people here at Haven or by some other way. Cullen was barking orders to his men, and Leliana was hastily scribbling messages and sending raven after raven away with whatever orders she might have for her agents.

“Whomever Tanya was, her warning saved us a lot of time and probably a good many lives,” Cullen said, referring to the smith’s apprentice who had somehow known of the impending attack before anyone else. “We’ve got a massive force approaching. The bulk is over the mountain.”

“I don’t suppose the Elder One has a nice banner to announce his allegiance? Or does he hide behind anonymity?” Aloisia asked.

“The latter it seems,” Cullen answered. “There are no banners at all. Either this Elder One hasn’t made a banner for himself yet, or else he sees no need for one.”

The threat was far closer than the distant mountain, as Aloisia could sense hostile minds just outside the gates, along with something strange. This other presence was alien, but not malicious. To Aloisia’s mind, whatever it was seemed like it existed between two possible states of being, if she had to put it into words. It was either a spirit of some sort, or else it was a being of an unknown sort of power, the likes of which Aloisia had only ever sensed in Solas.

The gates rocked twice, and Aloisia sensed a hostile life brought to its end. “I can’t come in unless you open!” a young man’s voice cried. It most assuredly was not a young man, but it was quite possibly an ally.

Aloisia stepped forward and opened the gate herself, and she was greeted with the sight of what looked like a young man, barely older than a boy, wearing the simple clothing of an ordinary commoner, with a large, wide-rimmed hat that hid his youthful face from certain angles. All around him were dead men in armor marking them as Venatori.

He rushed forward. “I’m Cole,” he said. “I came to warn you. People are coming to hurt you… Oh. You already know. Both of you do, but which of you is the Blade?”

Aloisia didn’t know what this being was, but by his words, he was able to glean Lana’s presence, as well as her own knowledge of the true threat. “What are you, Cole? And what can you tell me about the Elder One’s forces?”

“I’m Cole. I came to help,” he said simply as if that was the only proper answer to her first question. “And you… You’re the Blade. The Elder One wants to break you, and you know his name! ‘The new god is among us. Praise his name. Praise his holy majesty. That. Fucking. Dwarf.’”

“Dammit, Cole! Stop that!” Aloisia yelled. Whatever Cole was, he could see her thoughts, or at least her memories. That could be very useful or very dangerous, but it was not the primary concerns. “Tell me what you can of the Elder One’s attack. You want to help, right? Help me by preparing me for the fight ahead.”

Whatever Cole was, asking him to help seemed to be the right thing to do. “Yes. I came to help, to warn you about the Templars. They’ve come to kill you.”

“Templars?!” Cullen yelled, advancing angrily on Cole. “Is this the Order’s response to our alliance with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

Damn, but Cullen was dense. The Elder One had already made a move for the mages, so why did it come as any surprise that he’d succeeded with the Templars while Aloisia’s focus had been elsewhere? “The Elder One got to them, Cullen,” Aloisia said. “We stopped him getting the mages, but he's clearly had more than one plan to accumulate power.”

“Not Templars anymore, not really,” Cole said. “They’re red inside now. They went to the Elder One. There,” he said as he pointed to an outcropping on a hill in the distance.

Two beings stood on the hill. Both men, one human and clad in some foul, blighted armor, and the other was something else entirely. Taller than any human, with red lyrium growing out of his face like ornamentation. He felt corrupt in the Force, more blighted than any darkspawn Aloisia had yet encountered. There was no doubt. This was Corypheus.

“He’s very angry that you took his mages,” Cole said, strangely calm despite the dire circumstances.

“Cullen, fire the trebuchets, but one at a time. If we can cause an avalanche, we can take out the bulk of that army with one shot. If we need more than one, we’ll use it, but let’s try not to waste it. And have your men man the ballistae and watch the skies,” Aloisia ordered. “Leliana, I want you to talk with anyone native to Haven, any Chantry cleric who made a pilgrimage here, anyone who might know of some path to safety. Even if we take out the bulk of the enemy force, there’s still a fair number approaching, not to mention the threat from the sky.  Learn what you can and use it to evacuate Haven.”

Neither of them spoke back or dithered about. To their credit, they acted with haste and precision, their hearts steeled and resolved as far as Aloisia could sense. That was good. “Cole, I need you to… Dammit! Where did he go? Did anyone see where Cole went?”

“Who’s Cole?” Francine asked.

“I was just talking with him! He came to warn us. Barely a man?  Big, floppy hat?” Aloisia said to her companions.

“I know of no such boy,” Clemence said. Barris just shook his head silently.

Aloisia swore under her breath. First Tanya, now Cole. Maybe they’re the same person? The same entity? Whatever. No time for that now.

An impact shook the ground, and Aloisia saw an avalanche fall down the mountainside, extinguishing the torches of the distant army. Cullen had managed it with one trebuchet. There were still some ground forces approaching, but they had time to prepare before the enemy was truly upon them.

Feeling a surge of hatred in the Force caused Aloisia to turn back towards where the Elder One – where Corypheus – had stood a momenta ago. He was furious, and Aloisia's gaze turned skyward, hoping against hope that the enemy’s greatest weapon wasn’t about to fall upon them.

And then came the roar. It was the same sound that heralded the end of Aloisia’s time in the future. And from up in the dark of the night sky, the dragon came swooping down as it let out a breath of corruption. Sure enough, shards of red lyrium were lodged in the ground in the wake of the dragon’s breath. More than that, things in Templar armor fell from the dragon’s back, only red lyrium was growing out of them from impossible places, and yet they still moved and made to attack.

“This is making me very angry,” Aloisia swore as she ignited her lightsaber. “Red lyrium, red Templars, damned dragons and their damned swooping! All of it is making me very, very angry!”

“You’ll get no arguments from me,” Ser Barris said. “Any idea how to take out these blighted bastards?”

“Trial and error,” Aloisia said. “Hack, slash, fry, zap, chill, anything you can think of! Just kill them however you can!” So saying, Aloisia charged forward towards the nearest Red Templar. Really, there was no better fitting moniker, at least for the time being. It attacked with reckless abandon, with no real strategy or form behind its moves. Aloisia dodged its blade easily and swung her lightsaber to bisect it.

Only the blade was stopped in its tracks. Aloisia bit back a gasp of surprise. No substance on this planet should be able to withstand her lightsaber. So how did this monstrosity, bursting with red lyrium, manage to halt her blade?

She swung her weapon again, more as a test run than anything else, and a shiver ran through her blade and up her arm, and the answer revealed itself. The red lyrium! It can block a lightsaber blade! Dammit, but thank the Force for primitive tools! Aloisia immediately switched off her lightsaber, hooked it back to her belt, and drew her simple steel blade. It might not be the holy fire of the Maker, but it could hack away at solid matter just as well as anything else.

With her first opponent finally down, Aloisia spared a moment to check on her companions. Francine was casting spells of earth, hurling the substance of the planet at her enemies to stun them and shatter the crystalline growths jutting out of their armor. Delrin Barris was cutting down one enemy while blocking another with his shield, and Clemence walked slowly and silently to aid Ser Barris, leaving a trail of enemy corpses in his wake, his twin swords dripping with blood.

Aloisia decided that she’d had enough of the melee, and she called upon the Force to lift the blighted bodies high up into the air, higher and higher and higher, and then she let go. Even with their armor and their corruption, blunt force trauma from a fall of several stories killed or incapacitated most humanoid life fairly easily, and thankfully the Red Templars were not exempt from that.

And Aloisia was not alone. Cullen’s men were fighting – and winning – against the invading forces. Their opponents were far fewer in number thanks to the avalanche, but who was to say this was the entirety of Corypheus’s forces? He certainly hadn’t invested all of his efforts in Alexius at Redcliffe, and he would be a fool to bring his full might to bear when he had other plans that Aloisia still knew nothing about.

That’s not true, she chided herself. His goals are perfectly clear. He created the Breach, and you know that he claims to have entered the Fade once before. He’s probably trying to do so again, but you messed up his plans. Alexius said that you stole the mark from him, so he’s probably come to take it back.

Aloisia swore at the injustice of it all. This assault on Haven didn’t matter at all to Corypheus. It was just a means to get to her and the magic seared into her left hand. “I can work with this,” Aloisia said aloud without meaning to. The Breach was closed, and she could probably survive whatever he threw at her thanks to her bond with Lana. She would just have to lure him in and interrogate him without him realizing that he was being interrogated. She just prayed he wasn’t as cunning as… As that other enemy who she couldn’t name, damn him!

“All forces! Retreat! Fall back to the chantry! Everyone, move! Fall back!” she commanded as she moved throughout the flaming ruins of Haven. The civilians had all thankfully been already moved to safety thanks to Tanya’s warning, whomever she might be. Now they had to find a way to get them out of Haven entirely. Against a dragon, even Aloisia could only do so much before its indiscriminate breath of corruption destroyed the people of Haven, or left them to a more grisly fate.

As much as she wanted everyone to get to safety as quickly as possible, Aloisia couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as the soldiers of the Inquisition did not immediately abandon the fight, despite her orders. Those left without their own foes to face rushed to aid their comrades in arms, helping them to dispatch their enemies and give everyone the time they needed to get to safety. As Aloisia and her three companions made their way to the chantry, they gave assistance where they could.

As Cullen’s men and women retreated from the battle, Aloisia stood guard at the entrance to the chantry, determined not to leave a single soul behind before she left the battlefield. Finally, the last few stragglers made it inside, and just before Aloisia turned to join them, she saw the dragon swooping down again and letting out a pair of foul breaths, destroying the ballistae and any hope of ending that particular threat in an ideal manner.

Finally entering the chantry and closing the door behind her, she could hear Cullen and Roderick organizing the citizenry and the Inquisition – all of them now refugees – from the onslaught outside. Strangely enough, while the building was quite crowded, it wasn’t nearly as full as Aloisia had expected. Had it been so, she would barely have had enough room to breathe, let alone move.

“Lady Blade,” Cullen said as he stepped towards her. “Our situation isn’t nearly as dire as it might have been without the advance warning, but against that blasted dragon, along with however many more of these ‘red Templars’ there might be waiting for us… I don’t know. The dragon could easily destroy Haven, and the town may yet be overrun before that happens.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon,” Cole’s voice said, and suddenly he was right there, a few feet away, tending to a young mage who was bleeding out of her side. “I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.”

“I don’t think it’s a true archdemon,” Aloisia said. “I certainly hope it isn’t. Regardless of what it looks like, it’s a threat we can’t ignore. And it can easily destroy anyone we send out and clear a path straight into Haven for the enemy’s army.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village,” Cole said, his voice strangely calm despite the chaos around them all. “He only wants the Blade. He only wants you.”

Aloisia nodded as Cole confirmed what she had already suspected. “If I’m what he wants, then I’ll give myself to him to buy you all time. Please tell me there’s some way – any way – to get the people out of here beyond the enemy’s reach.”

“There is a way,” Roderick said. “Maker be praised, but there is. Sister Nightingale came back here in a hurry, begging anyone for a way out.  And then a simple memory, one I had thought of no consequence, came back to me. I made the summer pilgrimage here last year, and I happened to walk down an overgrown path – from out of a door in the back of the chantry – but it was unmistakably a path, and before I knew it, I found myself looking out into the countryside past the mountain at our backs. Sister Nightingale took charge of leading the people to safety, and I chose to stay here and calm the people so that they could flee with a small spark of hope in their hearts, or so I would very much like to believe.”

Aloisia let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and before she could stop herself, she pulled the chancellor into a fierce embrace. She let go but a moment later, but she didn’t apologize. “Bless you, Roderick! Your faith led you to take that pilgrimage, and it may be what saves countless lives! I know you were skeptical about me when we first met, and I won’t blame you if you still have doubts. But for now, I don’t care. Just get the people to safety. I’ll buy you as much time as I can, but I’m afraid I may not be able to do it alone.”

“Even if you can delay the enemy,” Cullen said, “there’s every chance that they’ll swarm over Haven and find the path we’ve taken and give chase.”

“Then it’s a good thing we only needed one trebuchet earlier on, isn’t it?” Aloisia said, knowing what she had to do, and hating that she might need to order others to their deaths to aid her. “If we can turn another trebuchet around, face it towards our backs, we can bury Haven and close off any avenue of pursuit. Someone will need to give me a signal to show that you’re all safe. A flaming arrow fired into the sky so high that I can see it. Sera can definitely do it, but any archer capable of the feat will do. Don’t use Varric’s crossbow. Those bolts could do far more damage when they land than any arrow could, I would imagine.”

“My lady!” Roderick protested. “Surely, there is another way! You are the Blade of the Maker! This cannot be how your story ends!”

“I don’t believe that this will be my end,” she reassured him. She knew what she could survive, but she would let the poor man believe that she was calling upon religious faith. “Or at least, I hope it won't be.  Francine, Ser Barris, Clemence: We need to turn a trebuchet around and fend off the enemy until the signal flare is fired. If our foe comes to face us personally, let him speak. We need to learn as much as we can in the event we're able to get word back to the others. And if it comes to battle, then we need to do everything we can do cripple the dragon, and kill it if we can. Don’t waste your efforts on the Elder One. From what I understand, he’s beyond our ability to kill as of yet.”

“Dammit, Aloisia!” Cullen exclaimed, and she knew that he must be upset enough to use her given name. “I know how capable you are, but you can’t survive a mountain falling down on you!”

“The Breach is closed, commander,” Aloisia explained. “That’s why I was needed. There may be lingering rifts, but speak to Solas and the other mages we have aligned with us now, and they may find a way to mitigate the damage without me around. The smaller rifts are a problem, but the Breach no longer threatens the world. The Inquisition can continue without me if it has to. I can do the most good here, drawing the enemy’s attention while you get everyone else to safety. My life for so many others, Cullen. It’s that simple. And even so, have a little faith. I won’t die so easily.  At least, I certainly hope not,” she added.  If the Force-walking ritual was still active, then Aloisia might well survive, but it wouldn't do to outright predict her survival.  That would be hard to explain if the situation came that far.

Cullen looked like he was about to protest, but Roderick put a hand on his shoulder. “Please believe me, commander, that I would love nothing more than to save everyone. But if this woman is willing to risk everything for the people… There is no greater good that a single soul can do with her life. Respect her choice, I beg of you, and make sure that the people are safe. It is for the people that you do what you do, is it not? You may no longer be a Templar, ser, but I beg you not to forsake the oaths you once swore. Remember your duty, I implore you.”

Aloisia made ready to support Roderick, but thankfully, Cullen seemed ready to relent. “Very well,” he said at last. “I don’t like it, but I’ll make sure your wishes are carried out. Is there… Do you have any last messages you want to convey?”

“Tell the people to look after and support each other,” Aloisia said. “And for those of us committed to fighting, tell them that is isn’t the end, but just the beginning. Remind them of all they have done to get this far, and tell them to keep at the good work until the world is truly safe for all people, everywhere.

“Ser Barris, Francine, Clemence: I’m asking you to help me in keeping the enemy occupied. This may be a one-way trip where we meet our ends, but I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t come to that, and I hope you will do the same. I’m sure you have doubts, and it’s not fair to place this burden on you, or on anyone. But countless people are depending on us. Cullen, you have your orders. Get it done. Roderick, guide your flock. Cole, you… You are gone. Again. And your charge is gone with you. Whatever. As for the four of us,” Aloisia said as she gestured to her companions, “we have a fight ahead of us. Let’s go.”

Whatever Cole was, he hadn’t left a wounded woman to suffer and die. If he was some sort of spirit from the Fade, then he was seemingly a benevolent sort. Whatever he was, his claim of being here to help rang true, so Aloisia would content herself with that knowledge and put him out of her mind as she made her way out of the chantry once more, closing it behind her as Barris, Francine, and Clemence waited outside for her, their weapons at the ready.

“Follow me to the trebuchet,” Aloisia commanded. “When we get there, you’ll man the mechanism to turn it and face it to the mountain behind us, Clemence. Francine, Barris: you and I will give Clemence as much time as he needs, and then we’ll hold the line until the signal flare goes up. I’m fairly sure that the Elder One will come for me, personally. Or more specifically, he’ll come for this,” she said as she held up her left hand, glowing faintly green. “We may not be able to defeat him, but we need to keep his attention on us long enough that he loses interest in following our people. If this is the end for us… I’m sorry that I dragged you into this, and I can only hope that what we do ends up accomplishing some small good.”

“It will, my lady,” Barris said. “I’m sure of it.”

“Ever since the Breach appeared, I’ve not been sure what to believe, but I’m with you, Lady Kallig,” Francine agreed.

“I will assist you all to the best of my abilities,” Clemence intoned blankly.

“Right, then. Let’s go!” Aloisia cried as she made her way up a path to the highest point in the town itself, by a hut where Solas used to spend his time, where the town’s walls reached their apex. Atop a stone pillar between two lines of wooden fencing was a loaded trebuchet. “Clemence, there’s the winch. Turn it until the trebuchet faces the mountain behind us. Don’t stop for anything until it’s done.”

Clemence obeyed without a word, and Aloisia felt disgusted with herself as she made use of the tranquil. He would do the task, and he would do it more efficiently than anyone else. If he tired, no emotions would follow to deter him. If he was wounded, he would not focus on the pain. He would keep at his task until it was done. It was cruel and heartless and entirely unjust. Aloisia would have words with Leliana once more about this, but that would have to wait.

As Aloisia waited for the battle to come to them, a shiver of dread went up her spine. Something was wrong. Reach out as she might, she could not sense the presence of enemy soldiers approaching. They were still out there, she knew, but they weren’t advancing like she had thought they would. It told of a tactic that was barely possible on this world, but all too familiar in the battles that Aloisia had waged in the wider galaxy. A commander pulled their forces back to keep from wasting them when there was to be a bombing run.

Sure enough, a familiar roar rent the air, and Aloisia looked up to see the blighted dragon swooping down straight towards them. She could sense its intentions a moment before it acted. “Get back!” she cried as she grabbed Clemence with the Force and pulled him away from the trebuchet, then dived away herself.

It was just in time as the corrupted breath of the dragon destroyed the siege weapon, and with it, any hope of stopping the Elder One’s forces from pursuing Aloisia’s people. As she got to her feet, Aloisia felt a mixture of heat and sickness from the flames and the corruption left in the wake of the dragon’s foul breath. Knowing that it would do no good, Aloisia forced herself to ignore her habits and deliberately did not draw her lightsaber. She would need all of her wits and cunning and little else to face what was coming. Whatever it was, it was old and corrupt and wrong.

Aloisia nudged with the Force behind her, forcing Barris, Francine, and Clemence to fall back so that she could shield them. “Stand your ground,” she commanded, even as her voice threatened to shake. “And do not engage. If I run, then follow me in flight. Until then… Just hold, everyone.”

She could feel the fear and the resolve coming simultaneously from her Templar and her mage ally. From Clemence, she could only feel his presence, for he had no emotions for her to sense at all. As Aloisia steeled herself, a tall, gaunt, and utterly corrupt figure strode through a wall of flames. His shoulders and legs looked to be garbed in what might have been mage’s robes, but his chest was a mass of bony protrusions and what looked like muscle that had hardened into armor. His arms were rail thin, with hands that ended with unnaturally long fingers that ended in sharp points more akin to claws. His face was adorned with red lyrium in what might have looked like a crown or else a mage’s hood corrupted and turned into something solid and wrong.

This was the face of Aloisia’s enemy. This was the Elder One, come to meet her. This was Corypheus.

A tremor in the Force was her only warning as behind her, the dragon landed and cut off any avenue of escape for Aloisia and her companions. Up close, it looked nothing like the illustrations of dragons she had read about, or if it did, then only in the simplest of ways. Its hide was rotted and reeked of corruption, and what scales it had jutted out at odd and unnatural angles, but Aloisia could feel the blight within not just the scales, but the dragon’s very being. More than that, she could sense that it was not a mindless beast, and that it was not just waiting, but listening. This was indisputable proof that Corypheus controlled this monster. As the beast roared before them, Aloisia forced herself to consign those thoughts for later.

“Enough!” came a deep, unfamiliar voice, and a wave of telekinetic force washed over Aloisia. It was a projection of the Force, but carried no natural wind with it, but a wave of blighted energy. The Elder One had her undivided attention now. “Pretender,” he snarled. “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

As much as she hated to admit it, Aloisia had to concede that he was right. Assuming he was referring to the mark on her hand, it was something beyond her understanding. Which made this moment the perfect opportunity to learn more about it. “I’ll not deny that,” she shouted back at the monstrous being. “I use this magic despite my ignorance of its origins. I yield to your superior knowledge, O Mighty Elder One. I beg of you to enlighten me,” she said, trying to avoid any sense of sarcasm, hoping to appeal to what she hoped was a monumental ego.

“Your ignorance is irrelevant,” the Elder One proclaimed. “You have laid claim to that which was never yours, and your thievery will go unpunished no longer. Know me,” he said with definite intent. “Know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One, the will that is Corypheus!” There it was, the name of the enemy from his own mouth, as he gestured with a downward pointing finger. “You. Will. Kneel.”

If not for the corruption screaming at her in the Force all around her, Aloisia would laugh. Such demands had often been made by the protagonist of ‘The Conquests of Darth Zod’ when Aloisia had tuned into the HoloNet as a slave child too young to work. Looking back, it was a sign that the Sith Empire had never been worthy of Aloisia's efforts on its behalf.

“You think that I would kneel to anyone?” Aloisia spat back instead. “Let alone an arrogant creature such as you?” And now she did laugh, however inappropriate it was. “You’re not the first to order me to kneel. Compared to others I've faced, I’m entirely unimpressed.”

“You will resist,” he said, as if he was simply coming to an understanding of Aloisia’s intentions. “You will always resist. I see. It matters not.” As he spoke, his left hand reached out with an object held in it. It was a metal sphere with curved etchings all along its surface. Two things stood out to Aloisia. While she couldn’t be sure from this distance, the designs on the sphere were reminiscent of the cover of the prayer book in the future that had identified Corypheus as the Elder One. More than that, however, was almost certain confirmation that this was the artifact that had been used to create the Breach. That meant that Solas had spoken truly, which only solidified Aloisia’s suspicions of him. But those could wait until she escaped from this crisis.

“I am here for the Anchor,” Corypheus said as he activated the sphere in his hand. Whatever it was, it glowed red with corrupt energy from Corypheus himself, but there were as a glimmer of green on the surface of the sphere itself. “The process of removing it begins now.”

Corypheus reached out his right hand, and Aloisia bit her lip as her own left hand ignited in green fire, bringing with it pain like she hadn’t felt in recent memory. As she clutched at one hand with the other, she did all she could to block out the pain just enough to focus on Corypheus’s ramblings. “It is your fault, Blade," he hissed, his right hand glowing with a fierce red light. “You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.”

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, and the mark – no, the Anchor – flared up with renewed intensity. “I do not know how you survived,” he admitted. “But what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts? I crafted to assault the very heavens!” As his hand clenched into a fist, Aloisia fell to her knees from the pain, biting her lip again to keep from screaming out. “And you used the Anchor to undo my work. The gall!”

The enemy’s voice never rose above a certain calm tone, at least outwardly, but his words revealed quite a lot. He was an arrogant creature with grand and terrible ambitions, and such beings were not the sort to admit any kind of failure or lacking unless they were deeply upset. Whatever Corypheus might be, his own words revealed that he was not entirely sure of his own victory.  But that was something to mull over later, when her hand wasn’t burning with arcane energy.

Aloisia had her own ideas, but if Corypheus was in an honest, sharing mood, she’d get as many answers out of him as she could. “What is this thing - this Anchor - meant to do?!” she cried out, her voice rising more from the pain in her hand than from any desperation that she really ought to be feeling.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it,” Corypheus gave as a non-answer, but something in him changed as he strode forward towards her. Aloisia felt her companions retreat, save for Clemence who kept heeding the order to stand his ground, and she soon felt herself lifted into the air by her left wrist, caught in Corypheus’s claw-like hand. “I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire in person,” he exclaimed, growing audibly more irritated. “I found only chaos and corruption, dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more,” he hissed.

Aloisia did her best not to flail her legs like an idiot, but it was a difficult thing to manage, given how accustomed she was to being in control of her own movements, and she didn’t believe she could free herself from Corypheus’s grasp without harming herself in the process. But this so-called Elder One that seemed to demand worship in a possible future was admitting to being a servant of another god in years past. It led credence to the notion that this was the same creature that Varric had spoken of facing off against with Marian Hawke. Varric's tale had also ended with Corypheus dead at Hawke's hands. Clearly, he had a way of cheating death. How he had managed such a feat was the question that needed answering in order to end his threat.

But Corypheus was not done ranting his frustrations. “I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed,” he demanded. “For I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!”

It was no idle boast, Aloisia realized, nor any sort of boast at all. It was trauma from shaken faith, and it was so fresh in Corypheus’s mind that Aloisia found herself staring into his memory, so close to the surface. There was a blackened, ruined city before her, with towers that might have been magnificent if not for their obvious corruption, but only one thing drew Corypheus’s gaze, and Aloisia’s along with it.

Through the Elder One’s memory, Aloisia saw the literal, singular throne of the gods, and she knew utter terror, for she recognized it immediately. It lacked the ornamentation of the Eternal Throne atop the spire of Zakuul, but it was all too similar the control mechanisms for Tyth, Aivela, Esne, Nahut, Scyva, Izax, and Zildrog. The throne of the gods – the seat of the Maker according to the Chantry – was in truth an Iokathi interface mechanism, and the people of Iokath had specialized in creating one manner of thing above all others: weapons powerful enough to lay waste to entire worlds.

Aloisia felt nothing as Corypheus hurled her body to the side, so deep was her despair. First Zakuul, then Iokath, and then Nathema, and now here as well! I’m never going to be free of him! He’ll never die with such a legacy persisting so far and so wide. Nothing I have done or ever will do will matter. In the end, the Emperor wins.

“The anchor is permanent,” she heard Corypheus say. “You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” Aloisia got to her feet more out of habit than anything else, but she drew no weapon. There was no point. Even if she could escape this particular monster, there was a far greater threat out there that she was powerless to face, let alone to stop. What was the point anymore? This galaxy was doomed, and others would follow in time until there was nothing left at all.

A flash in the sky caught Aloisia’s eye, and she realized that it was the flare signifying that her people had made it to safety. Good, she thought to herself as tears streamed down her face. They made it. This world may not last forever, but while it does, the people are safe, if only for a little while longer.

“And you,” Coryhpeus snarled as he glared at her. “I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You. Must. Die.”

Aloisia was about to ask him to just end it for her. She would release Lana, she would let Corypheus kill her, and she would finally find rest in death. But even that was in doubt. Could the Force itself offer sanctuary with the Emperor possibly still out there to wreak death and destruction? How could the Force protect her from one who had the ability to devour the essence of the universe itself?

And then, as if to say, ‘Don’t you dare,’ the whine of an engine roared in answer from above. Aloisia heard the telltale fire of a ship’s blaster cannons, and the blighted dragon was sent reeling backwards before taking to the air. Looking up, Aloisia saw a sleek, silver craft of an intimately familiar design circle around in the sky. It was a rare breed of ship of Imperial make, handed out only to a select few covert operatives who needed the freedom to operate at large in the wider galaxy. And Aloisia smiled as hope returned to her in full, knowing that she had not been left here to die. Someone had come to look for her, and as her mind began to race, she had a good idea who it was that had come and found her.

“You’re right,” she said to Corypheus, standing tall and defiant once more. “I must die. So must you. All things must die eventually, but this is not my time. Not today. This isn’t over, Corypheus. It’s only just begun.”

As she finished speaking, the sleek ship came back around and let out two more laser blasts. One hit Corypheus himself, and the ground beneath him opened up to reveal a series a tunnel. The Force is with us! Aloisia thought with glee, and the second blast answered her prayers at it did what her destroyed trebuchet could not, and the mountain began to fall down upon Haven in an avalanche.

“Everyone, into the tunnel! There, down there! Barris, Francine, Clemence, get moving, now! Hurry!” Aloisia cried.

As she saw all three of them run, including Clemence, Aloisia realized just how literal the mind of a tranquil was. Had she not ordered him to hurry, he would have gone at a leisurely pace, most likely, just as he did in the earlier fighting. But they ran and jumped down below. Once they were away, Aloisia looked up just in time to see the avalanche approaching, and she sprinted to dive in after them, letting the Force cushion her fall the snow formed a ceiling above them, blocking any pursuit from behind. Now there was just the tunnel, which would hopefully lead to somewhere safe.

As she caught her breath, Aloisia smiled as the truth finally dawned upon her. "Lana, my dearest love! Do you know what this means?”

”I believe I do, thank the stars," her wife replied. ”Someone came looking for us, and they seem to have found us! We may yet escape this wretched world.”

”We may,” Aloisia conceded. ”But if you saw what I saw of Corypheus’s memories, then you know that we’re needed here, more than anywhere else. But that can wait, because it wasn’t just anyone who rescued us. I know that ship. That was an X-70B Phantom, and I doubt it was just a random ship of that make. The greatest spy in the Empire has come to our aid. That was none other than your most trusted aid, Aratania. Or rather, Ara Tanya, don’t you see?”

”Oh, stars! I’m such a fool not to have realized it sooner! Lana said, but there was more to her voice than the joy that Aloisia expected. Was that fear? ”With technology retrieved from the Ghost Cell, she can look and sound like anyone at all. And given that Chiss anatomy shares a great deal in common with humans compared to most species… She likely has a crew on her ship, cloaked nearby, and they detected the enemy army, then sent word to Aratania, who gave us the warning we needed. Pure genius!"

“Maker, what was that?!” Francine exclaimed as she steadied herself on her feet, interrupting Aloisia’s mental dialogue with her wife.

Barris also rose, while Clemence was standing tall already. “I don’t know,” the Templar said. “I’ve never heard of anything like that before. We were literally saved by help from the heavens themselves!”

“Do you know what that means?!” Francine said in a hushed voice. “The Maker intervened in the mortal world to save his Blade! There’s no other explanation! But even so, such a thing has never happened before, not once! Not even when Andraste was being burned at the pyre.”

Between closing the Breach, running back to Haven, facing red Templars, and now having Corypheus exact a toll on her being with his artifact, Aloisia was utterly exhausted. Even knowing that Aratania was watching over her – no, she was Ilara to Aloisia – couldn’t keep her body from succumbing to fatigue from the events of the day. All the same, the implications of the conversation unfolding before her did not escape her notice. Of course, these people had no other explanation for a starship, for they had never thought that such a thing could even exist. So it had to be divine intervention of a kind never seen before, not even for the Maker’s Bride. This could change everything in ways that Aloisia hadn’t begun to imagine.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she said as she steadied her breathing. “I’m grateful to be alive, but we all heard what our enemy had to say. What he claimed to be. We need to bring word back to the survivors that escaped ahead of us. So we need to follow this tunnel and then find our way back to some sort of civilization. Clemence? If I fall behind, follow Ser Barris and Enchanter Francine and whatever they have to say. If I fall… Well, the Breach is closed. Someone needs to get back to the Inquisition. That’s what matters.”

“If this Corypheus truly is what he claims – one of the magisters who blackened the Golden City – then the threat is far direr than I could have ever imagined,” Francine confessed. “But you can’t possibly expect us to leave you behind! You… You’re the Blade of the Maker!”

Aloisia shook her head with a small smile. “I’m just one woman who’s doing all she can, and that’s left me utterly exhausted from a very long day. I’m not so arrogant as to believe the world revolves around me. I didn’t do any of this for myself, so don’t make it about me. Just, please. Don’t.” She would use the newfound worship should it come, but it would be painful and difficult to have all of that power at her hands. Had she not warned Sera hours ago about the trap of power? And now it seemed she was at danger of being consumed by the power of an entire world’s faith and belief. “We have to get back. Let’s go while we still have the strength,” she said.

Whatever their thoughts might be, nobody argued with Aloisia when she had effectively given an order. So they went as a group of four – ordering Clemence to keep pace with them and not run ahead or fall behind – down through a long set of tunnels that were clearly artificial in nature. How long had these been here, just waiting underneath Haven? What was the purpose of these tunnels? Were they part of the Temple of Sacred Ashes, built long ago and forgotten to the fog of ages?

A moment’s warning from the Force had Aloisia on guard, and a rift opened in front of her, and a number of demons appeared. Normally, they would be no match for her, but these were too many and too strong for Aloisia, utterly exhausted as she was. All the same, she had to try. She’d weaken them for the others to kill. She rose her hand and felt a sudden surge of power rush through it. Her left hand felt like it had when Corypheus had used his magic to inflame it, but this was different. Perhaps an aftereffect of what he had tried to do?

Whatever it was, it was power of a newer and fiercer kind than she had known before, and acting on instinct, Aloisia called upon the Force and opened up a small hole in the Veil, but it wasn’t a rift to let spirits cross over. No, this was a vortex of Fade energy that pulled upon the demons’ essences, drawing them back into the Fade before the vortex collapsed, leaving their physical forms to scatter like dust. And just like that, the threat was ended.

“Maker’s breath!” Barris said. “Is this what it’s like when you close the rifts, my lady?”

Aloisia shook her head. “No, this was something new. I usually have to fight them, but this… I think I forced them back into the Fade.”

“Maker be praised!” Francine said as she came to Aloisia’s side. “He surely smiles upon you, there can be no doubt.”

“Thank you,” Aloisia said as she took a deep breath, for whatever she had done had only further exhausted her. “But I fear that the effort took more out of me than I imagined. Not that I imagined anything. That was more instinctual than intentional. All the same, the way is clear. Let’s… Let’s keep moving.”

“Please, let me support you, my lady,” Barris said as he offered his body to her as a support.

Aloisia was too tired to argue. “Thank you, again. Now let’s keep moving. Come on, now.”

The tunnels led only one way, and any other passageways were blocked off, quite possibly from the avalanche just minutes ago. And on the tunnel went until it exited out into a snowy mountainside in the dark of night. Thankfully, the tunnel had been relatively straight, and so they all knew to turn right to head towards what they hoped was sanctuary.

“Whatever you do, don’t stop moving. Keep the blood flowing, stay warm,” Aloisia commanded even as she struggled to stay upright. The cold would kill them as surely as any demon or sword or spell. Hoth had been a painful wake-up call for Aloisia in that regard, but it had prepared her for the extremes of Belsavis. Every obstacle worked past was a lesson in itself, and every lesson was a tool, either weapon or armor that would help her to survive.

But Belsavis had a controlled climate, the Empire had given her cold weather gear for Hoth, and she had possessed detailed maps for both of those worlds that had directed her to her destination. Aloisia had none of those here and now, but she would make do on her own. She had to, if only so that the others wouldn’t stay by her side and succumb to death themselves should she collapse.

Lana had sometimes accused Aloisia of being silly for wearing such tall boots as part of her normal outfit, but given the deep snow, she would tell her wife ‘I told you so’ later on when she had the chance, as those boots were keeping the snow from freezing her legs. She was able to keep moving forward, however slowly. While the cold of the snow might not slow her down, its physical weight took that job unto itself.

“There,” Francine said. “It looks like we passed a campfire. Should we stop and light it?”

“No,” Aloisia said. “If we stop moving, we lose the energy to move, and the cold kills us all. But it means that we’re on the right path. Keep your eyes open for other sites like this. Make a trail of them.”

Aloisia continued to lean on Barris as he, Francine, and Clemence kept moving forward. But the cold was catching up with her already fatigued body. As she took another step, she slipped out of Barris’s hold and fell face first into the snow.

She felt the others try to shake her awake, try to force her to get up, to press onward. Aloisia wanted nothing more than to tell them to keep moving, and not to worry about her. But nature would not be denied. In the end, Aloisia was only human, and she felt fatigue and cold like everyone else. She barely felt hands grasp her by the arms as her senses dimmed. A moment later, or perhaps longer, or perhaps in no time at all, darkness fell entirely.

Leliana reflected on the mess that she now found herself in and forced herself not to despair in the face of not knowing what to do next. The day had been so calm at first, despite the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. For her part, Leliana hadn’t doubted that the Blade would succeed in closing the Breach, but she had felt her heart fill with joy all the same when the sky had returned to normal.

The feeling of that great weight lifting had been a tremendous relief, but there was always more to be done. Closing the Breach was something that the rest of the world could not ignore. The Inquisition might have been no more than another upstart sect to some, but now that they’d healed the sky, they would be a real power in Thedas that nobody could call an upstart of any sort anymore. The faithful would turn to them in renewed numbers and with greater fervor than ever before. It had been costly to get this far, but they had done it. Or rather, the Blade had done it with a lot of help.

When she and Cassandra had first gone in search for a potential Inquisitor, Leliana had been hoping that they could find a legend to rally the people behind. Alas, Solana Amell had made herself scarce, and Marian Hawke had proven equally elusive.  Leliana had then thought to find someone capable, but also someone who could be controlled if need be.  And even as tragedy struck, the Maker taking Justinia to his side, He had also delivered unto them Aloisia Kallig. She was definitely an asset, but she had defied all efforts to control her.

At first, the tale of the Blade of the Maker had been a useful fiction. The truth of Aloisia's story as she had told it was so outlandish that it could not possibly be the mere rambling of a madwoman, for it existed outside the constructs of the very world. Because of that very thing, however, Leliana found herself coming to truly believe that Aloisia was sent to deliver them all, and in ways that Leliana hadn’t expected.

Leliana had always wanted to change things for the better, and she had aided Justinia - and Dorothea more than that - in trying to affect that change. Aloisia, on the other hand, did not so much affect change as she willed it into being with sheer ferocity. As much as she spoke of a so-called Force that was the source of her magic, Leliana thought a more apt description was that Aloisia was a force unto herself. She let nothing stand in her way, and now the Breach had fallen to her as well.

And then the alarm had sounded. Leliana’s first instinct had been to find this smith’s apprentice and interrogate her, only to find herself frightened at the prospect of having being outplayed when Tanya – whomever she might truly be – had disappeared. Despite her suspicions and her need to confirm them, Aloisia had returned to Haven faster than Leliana had thought possible, and she had demanded that they treat the warning as if it were true. In a way, Leliana understood the concept of caution in the face of the unknown, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this was a trap to lure the whole of the Inquisition towards or else away from something.

And then the army had shown itself, and the early warning had proven essential in giving them much-needed time. Orders had to be given, contingencies needed to be activated, and there was just not enough time to do it all. Leliana had wanted nothing more than to get instructions to every single one of her agents, but Aloisia had ordered her to find a way out of Haven for the people. Looking back, Leliana wondered why she hadn’t questioned the order, why she had abandoned her post and taken the job unto herself rather than delegating it to someone else.

It was, quite simply, remarkably hard to ignore Aloisia when she was in her commander’s mindset. She spoke as someone who was accustomed to true authority, and such a thing was hard to ignore. That was one possibility, but there was another that was becoming harder to ignore, even as Leliana forced herself to ignore it. She was the Nightingale, the Inquisition’s spymaster. She had to be as cold as frozen stone. She could not allow herself to be emotionally compromised, not for anyone, lest it be the end of them both while taking others with them.

But Roderick had come through in the end, and the evacuation was successful, with Leliana leading the way. She told herself that it was what Dorothea would have done, being a shepherd for a flock in need of guidance. Josie was safe and nearby, Cullen and Roderick were bringing up the rear, and Cassandra was scouting the path ahead along with the others that accompanied Aloisia in her battle party, as Leliana had come to call it. The Iron Bull and his Chargers had collectively joined the others in securing the road ahead.

Leliana was worried, though she’d never show it, and she knew that Josie had to be beating herself up in terror. She knew that Josie and Aloisia were fond of each other, but that was no surprise. Josephine was a very easy woman to love, and she found Aloisia’s company enjoyable in turn. Aside from Josie, Dorian and Sera were the most concerned about Aloisia, and Leliana couldn’t help but join them in that concern.

Of all the people to stay behind, Aloisia Kallig was the least expendable member of the Inquisition. She was perhaps the least expendable person in all of Thedas. Maker, if half of her stories were true, she was the least expendable person in all of the stars in the sky above them, finally visible again with the Breach gone at last.

They had just started to make a campsite in a clearing to allow everyone to rest when an alien sound had rent the sky, forcing everyone to look up. Leliana did not know what it was, but it looked like nothing so much as a silver dagger that flew on its own across the sky. As it swooped to and fro – Damn every dragon and archdemon and every manner of thing that feels the need to swoop! – the ground shook once, and then twice more in rapid succession shortly thereafter.

And then the silver dagger in the sky had vanished, disappearing without a sight and sound, gone as quickly as it had come. Leliana had a suspicion, but she couldn’t be sure, not yet. Aloisia herself claimed to have come from the sky. What if she had been followed? If so, was this new entity an asset or a threat? What even was it? Was it an object? Was it some utterly alien form of life that Aloisia would see as normal, but one that Leliana could not begin to comprehend?

Such thoughts threatened to distract her as she resumed writing instructions to send to her agents via raven. And then the camp erupted into despair as Ser Delrin Barris, Senior Enchater Francine, and Clemence the tranquil stumbled into camp, carrying the limp form of Aloisia Kallig in their arms. Leliana ordered her taken to a healing tent immediately, and while the Blade of the Maker was taken away, Clemence confirmed the terrible truth, unable to speak a lie.

Aloisia Kallig was dead.

It was a terrible blow, beyond any horror that Leliana could imagine, but that was far from the end of it. No, the three of them revealed what had happened back in Haven. The enemy was indeed Corypheus, or at least some creature claiming the name. More than that, he claimed to be one of the magisters who had blackened the Golden City, a cautionary tale come to life. And even that was not the end of it, for they spoke of how the silver dagger in the sky had fought the enemy’s dragon with green fire, as if striking out at their foe with the very essence of the Fade itself. And then the green fire had rained down on Corypheus himself, and then on the mountain. It had opened up a tunnel for them to escape and barred any possible pursuit.

With the same tale coming from a Templar, a senior mage, and a tranquil, the truth could not be in doubt, but the implications were staggering. Leliana might know of another explanation, but already word was spreading of how the Maker had intervened physically in the world for the first time, when He had not ever done so before, not even for Andraste herself. But what did that mean, if He tried to save His Blade only to let her perish from the cold and her own fatigue?

A name to their enemy was one thing. Aloisia dead was tragic and painful, and possibly catastrophic, but it had always been a possibility. But ‘divine intervention’ and the events happening in its wake… Nothing could have prepared Leliana for this. She didn’t know how to react, so she would handle matters one at a time.

Before anything else, Leliana wanted, needed to pay her respects to the Blade of the Maker. Aloisia had done so much for a world not her own, and with her force of personality, not to mention her weapon and her powers, she could have done so much to suit her own whims, the people of Thedas be damned. But that was not who she was. No, Aloisia Kallig was a hero, and Leliana had come to admire her as a truly good person. She wasn’t just an asset to the Inquisition. In so many ways, Aloisia was the Inquisition.

And now, she was gone. It was horrible and unjust and unfair. Leliana had cursed the Maker for letting Justinia die, and she wanted nothing more than to scream at him once more. ‘You dare to descend from the heavens to save her, only to let her die. And you call yourself our god, you monster,’ she wanted to scream, but she couldn’t find the energy. All she felt was sorrow at the loss of a good woman who might have done so much more for the world if she had only had more time.

As Leliana approached the healers’ tents, where many were resting and recovering from frostbite or other injuries sustained in the flight from Haven, one tent stood out with a pair of Templars and a pair of mages standing vigil outside. Leliana made her way towards them. The Templars saluted, and the mages simply nodded in silence. It was as much of an invitation as any, so Leliana stepped past them and into the tent.

Adan was waiting within, as was Solas. The two of them had saved Aloisia's life once before, but death was the one constant in the world, from which there was no coming back. And on the single, simple cot was Aloisia herself. For the first time since she had met the Blade of the Maker, Leliana finally beheld her without her armor. It had been removed and put to the side with care, along with her belt and the weapons attached to it. She wore only a skintight, unornamented, dark grey garment that probably served as a sort of under-armor, and it made her look so much smaller. Her signature outer armor wasn’t particularly large, and her body was well-muscled, but that armor had seemed so much like the Blade’s own skin. Without it, there was no Blade of the Maker, but merely an all-too-human woman at rest.

“Did she suffer?” Leliana asked at last, not trusting herself to say anything more.

“I don’t believe so,” Solas said in a level voice. “From the accounts of those who brought her here, she insisted that they keep moving, no matter what. And she was right, for if they had stopped moving, the cold would have taken them all. The day’s events seemed to have taken their toll on her, and one bad step had her fall into the snow. Her body began to slow down, and she likely felt herself begin to rest. There would have been no pain. Just a simple sleep to lull her away.”

“Aye, the mage has the right of it,” Adan said. “I had tonics ready to restore her energy, warm her up, but it was too late by the time she got here. I can do a lot, and the mage – sorry – and Solas here knows his stuff as well, but once a person’s dead… Well, she’s with the Maker now. After all she did for us, He’d better open up his arms for her and hold her tight.”

“Yes. He’d better,” Leliana agreed before she could take it back. Without thinking, Leliana stepped forward and knelt beside Aloisia’s body. A stray lock of red hair had fallen in front of her eyes, and Leliana moved a hand to brush it aside, like tending to a sleeping child. She looked so calm, so at peace with herself. “Rest now,” Leliana said. “I don’t know what comes next, but you’ve done all that was asked of you and more. Without you, Aloisia... Well, thank you. For everything.”

Just as Leliana was about to stand up, something caught her eye, and she knew she must be desperate enough to be seeing things, for she could have sworn that she just saw Aloisia’s chest rise and fall, as if taking a breath.

“Maker, I don’t believe it. Move, Nightingale!” Adan said as he pushed Leliana aside and began preparing a tonic.

“Impossible!” Solas exclaimed, and Leliana got to her feet and watched with amazement as a miracle unfolded before her very eyes.

She hadn’t been seeing things, or if she was, then she wasn’t alone. Aloisia Kallig – the Blade of the Maker who had been brought here as a corpse, her life spent and gone – was returning to the world from a place from which there was no escape. There was only one explanation. “The Maker has saved her twice over,” she whispered, as if saying the words too loud would make them untrue. "He saved her from Corypheus, and now He has returned her to us!”

“Do not be so hasty,” Solas said. “There are many possibilities. This could be the work of a spirit or some unknown magic. We don’t know enough yet.”

As much as Leliana admired Solas for his wealth of knowledge, and as much as she distrusted him due to his obvious lies – And let’s not forget that my agents found his supposed hometown. Nothing but a ruin that hasn’t housed a living soul for centuries – she almost pitied him for his lack of belief in anything greater than himself. Even Aloisia, who didn’t worship anything as far as she understood, still believed in the Force that she claimed bound all living things together. It might not be a god, but it was still a higher power beyond mortal understanding.

And then, Aloisia opened her eyes, and she smiled as her emerald gaze fell upon Adan, and then Solas, and finally Leliana.

“What are you?” Solas asked in horror.

Leliana wanted to kill the elf right then and there for his gall, but Aloisia’s soft laughter calmed her heart before she could get too worked up. “I think I’m alive, Solas. Nice to see you, too, I’m sure. And Adan. I seem to keep winding up in your care, don’t I?”

Whatever Adan’s faith might tell him, there was something refreshing about seeing him fuss over this living miracle like any other patient. “Look, I don’t know what you’re feeling, but you suffered from severe cold and fatigue. Drink these, and stay in bed. I don’t care if you just came back from the dead. The fact that you died at all proves you’re not invincible, so rest up, do you hear?”

“Yes, sir,” Aloisia said, bringing up her right hand to her forehead to salute the apothecary, the smile growing wider on her face as that hand then moved to help gulp down the tonics Adan handed her. “Leliana,” she said at last, turning to greet her. “I imagine that everything has changed once again, and the world is infinitely more complicated than it was a few hours ago, yes?”

“Enough!” Adan said. “You need your rest, no questions. Solas, Sister Nightingale, please let the Blade recover. This is… I don’t know what I’m doing, truth be told, but I’m going to try my best to make sure we don’t lose her. Not again. And make sure nobody comes in here and disturbs her. Maker knows what will happen when she walks out of here.”

“That is most assuredly an understatement,” Solas said. “I will say nothing of this. She deserves that much for now.”

“We are in agreement, then,” Leliana said, hating that she had to compromise with this possible traitor. He was definitely hiding a great deal, but how much was unclear. For the time being, however, Leliana prayed to the Maker for forgiveness.

Maker, hear my prayer. I doubted you, and my doubt turned to fear and anger. And in my blindness, I turned that fear and anger towards you. I was wrong to doubt, and I was wrong to let that doubt consume me. I beg your forgiveness, and I offer up to you every ounce of gratitude from every fiber of my being. You have proven that our prayers our heard, that you still care for your children in their hour of need.

You have not abandoned us, and I will not abandon your Blade. I will remain by her side and aid her through all of her trials. I am forever your humble servant, Leliana prayed silently. As she left the tent, a realization came to her.

She had dubbed herself a humble servant, but her thoughts had not been solely on the Maker when she had issued that prayer, and she found herself surprised with her contentment at the realization. Leliana would serve the Maker, and she would serve his Blade. Whatever you need of me, Aloisia, you will have it. I am yours, now and forever.

Leliana focused entirely on the sense of duty behind that vow, conveniently ignoring the growing affection - and the rising warmth in her heart - that she felt for the wonderful woman that she simply knew Aloisia Kallig to be.

Chapter Text

Sera had finally gotten to safety, the mountains and Haven itself now all behind her.  She stood as apart as she could in the middle of a snowy clearing, with everyone setting up camp, and she hated herself for being forced to just wait! The Nightingale had told her not to fire the signal arrow until Cullen gave the go-ahead, but everybody else kept on telling her to stop waiting and shoot the damned thing already. Sera understood that there was a lot of stuff that she knew jack shite about, and that Leliana knew a lot of stuff that Sera didn’t.  One of those things probably had something to do with Cullen, and Sera just didn't want to piss off the Nightingale in general.

And then, finally, the commander came into earshot and ordered her to fire the bloody arrow. Sera took the flare, dipped the oil-soaked tip into a nearby campfire, and loosed it up into the air as high as she could shoot it. And now, all that was left was to wait. Again. Aloisia had stayed behind to keep the baddies focused on her while everybody else escaped, and it was just more proof of how she was a big person who was actually good.

Sera had been struggling with this for a while. Big people didn’t go around doing stuff for little people just because. They just didn’t. But then came along Aloisia Kallig, and everyone around her started made her into not just a big person, but a huge person. Larger than life was how it went, right? Big people like that made everyone else do the dirty work so they didn’t have to. Until now, when Aloisia made sure that every person smaller than her got out of Haven before she did.

Counting herself lucky for choosing this big group to get involved with, Sera wondered when Aloisia would finally make her way over to them on this side of the mountains. And then a loud whooshing sound split the air a few times, only for a giant silver knife-thingy to suddenly fly through the night sky, and the ground shook as it swooped to and fro. That wasn’t a dragon, was it? No, dragons weren’t silver and shiny like that, and they had flappy wings and they breathed fire, right? So, what was this new thing?

Nobody seemed to know, and everyone was starting to fret as the flying silver knife-thing just up and vanished. After that, there was just quiet. There were no more sounds of fighting, no more whooshing from the sky, no more shaking of the earth. Just nothing at all, and it was right scary, is what it was. Sera asked Varric if there was anything like any of this in his famous book that had all of his stupid stories, but he was just as freaked as she was, even if he was a bit more quiet about it.

After shivering and quaking in fear for a few minutes, Sera went up and asked the new Qunari guy if he knew what was going on. The Qunari were a scary bunch, but Iron Bull was a decent sort, at least so far. And while most of Thedas did its own thing, the Qunari did their own other things, so maybe they knew stuff that everyone else didn’t. Bull had said that he didn't know what it was, but then he’d mentioned having to write about it to his bosses. Sera cursed herself for forgetting that he wasn’t only a big guy with horns, he was also a friggin’ spy! Though, to be fair to the Qunari, if their women were as big and buff as this guy was… Woof!

After everyone got over the shock of seeing the giant flying knife-thing appear and disappear, that's when the whispers really started to get going. Apparently, the Templars had gone beyond just killing mages and were full-tilt baddies to the whole world now. Sera didn’t know much about red lyrium, save that it was super bad, and now the Templars had it growing out of them?! What in the Maker’s name was going on?! They’d just closed the Breach, right? The world was supposed to start making sense again, only it wasn’t. It was getting even stranger, and Sera really hoped that Aloisia would come back to them so she could make the world go back to normal like she was supposed to do.

Sera lost track of time, and after what might have been minutes or hours, a cry went up that someone was coming towards the campsite from the dark of the snowy wilds. Sera rushed over, ready with her arrows in case more baddies were on their way.  She wished that it had been baddies.  Baddies she could deal with.  Arrows worked just fine on baddies.  Arrows couldn't handle a mage, a Templar, and that freaky tranquil carrying Aloisia’s body into camp, just hanging there like she was...  No!  No, she couldn't be!  Sera rushed to be by her side, but other people were already taking Aloisia away to a tent to be healed.

And then came the gut punches - one after another after another - from the people who had been there when everything had gone down. The big baddie in charge had shown up and claimed to be one of the Tevinter magisters who had been the first darkspawn, the ones who turned the Golden City black and all that. The big baddie was a fairy tale come to life, only it was a really bad fairy tale.

That wasn’t it, though. Oh, no. That flying silver knife-thing had spat green fire at the baddie and his dragon to save Aloisia and the ones who had made it out with her, who were telling the tale now. Normally, Sera would have thought them to be bat-shite crazy, but even Sera knew that when a mage and a Templar say the same thing – along with the freaky tranquil who can’t make stuff up anymore – then it means that the thing actually happened. And now, everyone was saying that the Maker had come down from the heavens to save His Blade when all hope had been lost.

And that would have been strange enough, but then the story became sick and twisted and cruel, and Sera wanted to just fall down and cry then and there, because Aloisia had died in the escape. The baddies didn’t get her, and she didn’t let the baddies touch her friends. Well, maybe not friends.  It wasn't like they were best buds, but anyone that Aloisia looked after was a friend in some way. That was just the kind of person she was, and it hadn’t been any sort of baddie that had done her in. No, she'd died like any other normal person, from the cold and from being tired after a day of getting shite done.

It wasn’t bloody fair, dammit! Sera sat down on a patch of snow-free ground next to a small fire, hugged her knees close to her chest and cried into her hands. Aloisia was good people. She had done everything for everyone, and she hadn’t even gone out like a hero was supposed to go. It was both stupid and smart. Stupid because heroes were supposed to do everything real grand-like, especially dying. But it was also smart, because even in the end, Aloisia had acted like just another person who only happened to be bigger than most.

Sera had joined up with the Inquisition because she’d heard that they were doing good work, but she’d stayed because Aloisia was leading them the right way. Who would be in charge now, and could Sera really stay with someone else in charge? Everyone knew that Aloisia talked with the Nightingale more than anyone, so if anyone was to take over, it would probably be her. But behind that pretty face and lovely voice was a very scary woman. Sera had her fantasies like anyone else, but never about the Nightingale, however pretty she might be.

Strangely enough, she didn’t have such fantasies about Aloisia, either. With the Nightingale, it was out of fear. With Aloisia… For one, it was hard to imagine herself with such a big person. For another, the Blade of the Maker was so full of opposites. She was a mage who fought with a sword. She was holy, but she didn’t bring up the Chant much at all. She was a big person, but she didn’t act like one. She was so hard to figure out other than that she was a good person, and Sera wondered why more people couldn’t just be like Aloisia. Just be people, no other labels at all. Why not? You don't dream about shagging her because you like her, you dimwit.  She's a friend.  A real friend, not like the Jennies.  You finally found someone you like and who likes you, just not like that.  And now she's gone, dammit!

As Sera wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve, everyone all around her was suddenly started erupting into hushed gasps and whispers, and were even more people starting to cry? Could they not just keep quiet for a bit so that Sera could mourn in peace for a minute or two? She looked up to start to yell at everyone to shut it, but then she saw where everyone was looking, and Sera felt her jaw drop open in disbelief.  There she was.  There was Aloisia Kallig – looking very much alive and not dead at all – walking up to the top of a small hill that served as one end of the large campsite. She took a stand and folded her hands behind her back, facing outward towards the people she had given her life to save, and the light of all the campfires was making her red hair and armor decorations seem even more fiery than normal.

She gave her life! She died, but now she’s here again! Unless she’s possessed, but people would be all over her if that was true, right? Maker’s balls, did He bring her back?! Everyone else seemed to think so, given that the crowd before her was falling like a crashing wave as person after person fell to their knees and bowed their heads. For a moment, Sera wondered if she should do the same. Aloisia was the Maker’s chosen, right? But then she thought about her conversation with Aloisia earlier today, though it felt like a lifetime ago. Aloisia wouldn’t want people to bow to her. They were doing it because they wanted to, but Sera knew that Aloisia would hate it if Sera put herself below her in that way. For that reason alone, she stayed standing, even if she really felt like she ought to bow down.

Silence fell over the camp as they waited for Aloisia to speak. Surely, she’d have something to say, wouldn’t she? Sera watched as Aloisia paced back and forth, her head hanging slightly. What was going through her thoughts, Sera wondered. What was it like to die and to come back? That wasn’t supposed to happen. That had never happened, not ever, until now. But why?

Finally, Aloisia stopped pacing, and her voice rang out more clearly than Sera thought possible. “People of Haven, members of the Inquisition, honored guests and partners… There is so much that needs to be said, and I scarcely know where to begin. So much has happened – not just to me, but to everyone – and I am positive that I am not alone in not knowing what to make of it all.

“We are safe from enemy pursuit for the time being. You may have seen something silver, perhaps in the shape of a knife, flying through the air. Whatever it was, it saved my life, even if only for a short time. As far as I had believed, I had been needed to close the Breach, and that has now been accomplished thanks to all of you who helped the Inquisition to come this far. With that task behind me, I was content to die if it meant saving all of you from a fate that you did not deserve. And according to the people who took care of my body as it was resting here, I did die. And yet now, here I stand before you.  My heart is beating in my chest, my lungs are breathing in the cold mountain air, and my memory is as clear as it has ever been.

“I should be grateful, I suppose,” Aloisia said, and Sera wondered why in the world she wouldn’t be. “But the more I think about what has happened tonight, the more questions I have, and I have very few answers to go along with them. First and foremost among these questions is simply, why me? Why would the Maker choose to send a sign from the heavens to save my life, then let me die, and then bring me back to life? Why would the Maker do this for anyone at all, and yet not for the one person that all logic says he should have given anything and everything for? Why me and not Andraste, not even as she burned alive? Why was Archon Hessarian forced to step in and save her from a torturous fate? The Maker has just proven his ability to intervene in the mortal world, so why now? Why not eons before? Why not before the explosion that took Divine Justinia and so many others from us, leaving the Breach in the sky for us to contend with? Why me? What makes me worth saving when so many others have been senselessly taken from us?”

As much as Sera wanted to cry out in answer, ‘Because you’re worth saving,’ Aloisia was asking questions that definitely needed answers, but Sera could think of no real answer that wouldn’t be horrible in every way. Aloisia was a good person, but she wasn’t on the same level as Andraste.

But what if she was? What if this was the Maker’s way of saying, ‘I’m giving everyone another chance, and this is the woman who is going to show you the way.’ Was that really what was happening? Was Sera living through a story that would end up being written in the Chant to be told hundreds of years from now?

But Aloisia wasn’t done speaking. “And the more my mind lingered on this doubt," she said, "even more doubts began to rise in my mind. Or rather, old doubts began to resurface. When I was a slave, my master subscribed to the Imperium’s version of the Chant of Light, even as my mother taught me the Orlesian version in secret. As much as I was told that one version was true and the other false, my child's mind couldn’t help but wonder if there was a bit of truth to be found in each of them? Yes, I know, how could the Imperial Chantry be right about anything at all, when the Chant was founded in opposition to the Imperium in the first place?  But still, as a mortal woman, I have wondered and doubted all the same.”

Aloisia looked to take a deep breath as she shook her head. “If I am to be a leader worthy of the name, I will need to have the trust of those who choose to follow me, and I cannot ask for your trust if I am not honest with you. And after what I have gone through tonight, I feel a pressing need to unburden my doubts to all of you so that you can decide for yourselves if your own future lies with the Inquisition or without it. What I have to say may seem strange or even blasphemous, but I humbly ask that you simply listen and keep an open mind, and then to do as your conscience dictates. If that means you can no longer follow my lead, then at least let the Inquisition guide you to safety, and then please follow your own path, wherever it might lead.  Let nobody believe that they are obligated to anything other than what they choose of their own free will.”

Now, that got people’s attention, and Sera was no exception. She’d never thought of Aloisia as holy, but how could she not anymore? And it wasn’t as if there was stuff in the Chant that didn’t make sense if you thought about it too hard, but with horror stories from the Chant coming to life, maybe it was time to listen to what Aloisia had to say. She wasn't the sort to mess around with stuff like choice, having been a slave. If Sera decided that Aloisia was going too far, then she trusted that she’d be able to leave, just as she’d been promised.

Finally, after allowing people to whisper among themselves for a bit, Aloisia spoke again when things had quieted down. “In the end, my doubts come to an attempt to sort out what is real and what is not real. The Chant of Light has always seemed, to my mind, to be part history and part legend. Much of what we take as truth is based on tales that have been passed down through many centuries, with canticles being edited or removed depending on who has been leading the Chantry at any given time. If I am to do as much good as I can, then I want to carve a path based on what I know to be factually true, not on myths and stories – however inspiring and hopeful – that may or may not have actually happened.

“I will start with a story from the Chant of Light that is at the very heart of our problems today. The Canticle of Threnodies tells the tale of how Tevinter magisters in service to their Old Gods trespassed on the Golden City, and from that day and ever since, it has been the Black City. History tells us that the Black City was once the Golden City, but up until recently, the reason behind the change was not truly known outside of myths and stories. But just hours ago, one of those very magisters marched his armies upon Haven to take this back from me,” Aloisia said as she raised her left hand, the green magic glowing bright in the dark of night.

“He calls himself ‘Corypheus,’ and he said claims that while he once breached the Fade in the name of another, today he seeks godhood for himself alone,” Aloisia explained. “And he spoke of seeing ‘the throne of the gods,’ as he put it, and through some trick of the Fade, I saw his memories. As for what I saw, I believe these not to be the boastings of a would-be false god, but of a man deeply traumatized by his broken faith. Do not pity him, however, for his past arrogance and his present trauma combine to make him a threat to all life in Thedas. And yet, I did see very clearly his memory of a corrupt, blackened city, and the single, empty throne in the center of it all.”

Another series of gasps and frightened whispers erupted throughout the crowd, and Sera felt herself go numb. He saw it, and she saw what he saw, and they both saw the seat of the Maker. And if there’s a seat, then there’s a butt that needs to sit in it. And that’s the Maker’s chair, right? Which means that if the chair is real, then the butt is real, which means the Maker is real! How can any of this be friggin' real?!

Sera looked up at Aloisia on the hill in, her figure looking so small from the distance, but still unmistakably her. When the crowd didn’t hush in time, she raised her right hand just a bit, her palm facing open towards everyone else. Sera felt her frayed nerves begin to settle, and the crowd began to quiet down and looked back up at her. Did she do that? Was that magic, or was that some holy power? Does it even matter right now?

“So there you have it,” Aloisia said. “Whatever else the Chantry got wrong, they somehow got the truth of this tale correct, at least to some degree. Corypheus is living proof that this tale is history, not legend. And yet, I cannot help but wonder how much of what we believe from the Chant of Light is not as true as we would like to believe? The Maker is said to have loved Andraste above all others, so why did he not save her when he could have done so? He saved me, after all. And the more I think about it, the more I am scared at the conclusions that I am drawing, for they paint a truly ugly image, and yet I cannot rid it from my mind.

“I think the Maker saw a need for me in this world, and so he kept me from coming to his side. But if he loved Andraste so dearly, then perhaps he wanted her to transcend her mortal bounds so that she could be by his side in truth, and if so, would her death be for his benefit alone? And if the Maker is willing to let such things happen for his own sake, then what does that say about him? And the more I look at what the Chant has to say about the Maker, the more I wonder if the god the Chantry speaks of is truly the god of this world. I know, I know,” she said as indignant whispers began to spread, as if speaking up too loudly would be dangerous. “Please, hear me out. As I said, these are only my personal thoughts, my own personal doubts, and any sin of blasphemy is mine alone to bear.”

Sera hated Aloisia for a moment, except not really, because it wasn’t Aloisia she was angry with. But what if she had a point? The Maker could do whatever He wanted. Aloisia was standing there, alive, as proof. And everyone knew that He loved Andraste. So had He actually let her die, just so she could join Him at His side? It was all wrong, but it made a stupid sort of sense. But even as Aloisia was saying all of this, she was saying that the Maker was, what? That He was wrong? That He wasn’t real? This was scary shit to think about, but hearing it from the bloody Blade of the Maker? This could be very bad.

“I cannot help but think about some of the key tenets of the Chant about the Maker himself. It is said that he turned his back on the world, but coming back to history versus myth… Why are there no tales of what the world was like before the Maker turned from us? Did he simply erase all knowledge of what the world was like with him gracing it with his presence? If he wanted us to return to him, why wouldn’t he leave such things behind to guide us back to him? And the reason he left us, we are taught, is because humanity turned from him to worship the Old Gods instead. And the Chant also teaches us that the Maker will only return once the entire world sings the Chant of Light in his name.

“What does that say about the Maker, I have asked myself, and the only answers that make sense are terrible to even think about. If the Maker turned from mankind because we chose to worship differently, then I can think of no other explanation than jealousy. The Maker was envious of other gods that received worship instead of him, and so he retracted his blessing. If he truly wanted to show us that he was the one true god, why not show himself as he just did in saving my life of all things.

“And as for only returning when the whole world sings his name… If he truly loves all of his children, then why does he set such conditions on showing us his love? All I can think of is that the Maker is filled with so much pride that he cannot bring himself to show care for a world that does not worship him in its entirety. And if the Maker of all beings is capable of such emotions that we only think of demons with in association, then does that say about him?”

A chorus of whispers began to ring out, and Sera could only guess that they weren’t shouting at Aloisia because they were all too shocked by everything that had happened today. Once again, Aloisia rose her hand, and a wave of calm swept through Sera, and the crowds fell silent. Gotta be holy, what she’s doing. Has to be, right?

”And yet, here we are. Here around us is the world, and in our dreams is the Fade. The Maker is there, I am sure of it. But is He the same being that the Chant depicts Him as? This question is the very core of all of my doubts. I refuse to believe that all of us exist, that this world exists, simply at random. There is a higher power out there watching over us. There has to be. I believe that the Maker’s eyes are upon each and every one of us today, and that He does not care so little for his children that He will simply leave us to fend for ourselves. I need only look to what He has done for me in the past few hours for proof of that. The Chant of Light has many lessons worth heeding, but it also presents certain things to be true that I cannot help but question. I believe that the Chant does have answers, but I do not believe that it has all of the answers. I believe that the Maker gave us the capacity to think and to reason to arrive at the answers that are not handed to us so easily, and if we are to withstand this crisis we find ourselves in, then we must turn not only to the Maker, but to each other. We must find not only comfort, but answers in our fellows and in the world around us."

Dammit, but why did Aloisia have to make so much friggin' sense?! Sera had never thought of the Maker like Aloisia had just talked about Him, and now that the thoughts were in her mind, she couldn’t help but feel stupid for not wondering sooner. Envy and pride were demon-y things, everyone knew that. And it wasn’t that the Maker couldn’t do anything to help the world, since he’d just brought Aloisia back from the dead, but he wouldn’t do anything up until now, and Aloisia had just given them all a reason why. It was scarier than anything Sera had ever known. But that fear was a little bit less when Aloisia suggested that maybe the Chant could have been wrong about that stuff. It wouldn’t make sense for the Maker to be all demon-y, but the way the Chant talked about Him… Well, Sera liked Aloisia’s version better. It would be nice to think that the Chant only had some stuff figured out, and Sera could figure out the rest for herself. It was basically how she’d been living her life up until now, and hearing Aloisia say it like that… Sera felt like she’d just been given permission to believe the way she always had. It was weird, and it was kinda scary, but not all of it bad, exactly.

“And so we come back to the silver knife from the heavens and my own return from the dead,” Aloisia continued. “Did the Maker truly cause these things to happen? Or is it merely an excuse that I’ve been using to explain what I cannot explain by any other means? The more I think about it, the more I use the free will and intellect that the Chantry says is a gift from the Maker, the more that I begin to doubt, and the more that I begin to wonder.

“I don’t have another explanation for what happened to me, and I will not ask you to believe what I believe or to think what I think. I only speak to you as a mortal woman who has had her faith shaken by events beyond her ability to understand. Every question that you have, I am sure that I have had that same question recently in some form or another. Even as I doubt the Maker as the Chantry tells us of Him, I cannot deny that this world and all of its marvels do exist, and that cannot have come from nowhere. The Maker has to be real, but perhaps not as the Chantry teaches. There is a god out there, but maybe He shows His affection for the world in ways we cannot comprehend as mere mortals. Perhaps He brought me back to stop Corypheus, or perhaps he brought me back for some reason that I cannot yet understand.

“I do not have the answers that we all so desperately need, but I do have the drive to seek out those answers, wherever that path may lead,” Aloisia said, her voice rising with every word. “There are several answers that we need to look for in order to survive the chaos that Corypheus means to bring to this world, and while the heavens hold comfort and some of the answers, I cannot pretend to believe that they hold all of the answers as I once hoped. Or at the very least, not quite yet. The Maker has always been out there, and the Chant says that he is waiting to return. For the time being, we must do as we have always done as the Maker’s children. We must look out for each other, and we must look to the world around us and see what answers the Maker has left for us in this world, and we must lift ourselves up – together – to meet all of the challenges that we face as we seek out the answers we need to overcome these challenges.

“The world is in dire peril, and this is not in question,” Aloisia said clearly. “And while I have questions of faith that are dire to me, I cannot afford to dwell on them if this enemy is to be stopped from destroying all that we hold dear as citizens of the world. The Inquisition will face many obstacles in the days ahead, and there will be difficult questions to be asked and answered in order to meet these challenges. I cannot promise that the answers will be easy to find, and I cannot promise that they will be to our liking, but we must persist throughout it all. We must come together as fellow people of the world. We all have doubts, and that is part of living. But we cannot let those doubts divide us at this most crucial of times.

“So there you have it,” Aloisia said. “I have laid bare my heart before you. I have spoken my doubts aloud, and I have told you what my heart tells me and what it does not. I do not ask for your blessing, nor for your agreement, nor for any commitment save that which you give of your own free will. If your conscience says that you cannot follow me past this point, then let nobody bar your way. If, however, you can work with me despite the doubts all around us, then I welcome whatever aid you have to give, and again, no more than you are willing to provide.

“We face an enemy out of both history and legend, and we find ourselves at a new turning point in both. Future generations will look back at these days and see one of two things. They will either see disparate peoples come together and unite despite their differences, or else they will see the people of Thedas scatter from one another, leaving behind them a world of ruin that tomorrow’s children will be cursed to inherit. I cannot demand more of you than you choose to give, but the stakes are clear. The enemy seeks to become a god by entering the Black City. I ask you to join me in stopping him. Whatever choice you make, don’t do anything for me. Do it for the people you love, and for the future of this world that we all share, together.”

Before Sera could even begin to think on Aloisia’s words, a familiar whooshing sound came from above, and the silver knife began to descend from the sky once more. Sera looked up and saw it growing closer and closer. Maker, is it about to stab us all in our faces?! The knife continued coming closer and closer towards the earth until it leveled off just to the side of the assembled crowd. It was facing away from them now, and Sera could see it was glowing blue on its backside. Lyrium, maybe?

And then another bloody impossible thing happened. Beneath the knife, but still above them all – came a light, like a rectangle, and in that rectangle were three words. ‘Follow To Sanctuary’ it read for a few moments that stretched out forever. Then the light vanished, and the giant knife lifted up further into the sky, turned a bit until it was clearly pointing towards something.

The crowd began to murmur once more, and Aloisia rose up her open palm again and Sera felt calm fall upon her as everyone else quieted down. “I don’t know what this is,” Aloisia said, "but I believe it to be a sign from the Maker. It saved my life twice, and it brought the mountain down upon Corypheus and his armies, securing our safety. It now claims to show us a path to sanctuary. I place my own faith in this sign that I believe the Maker has sent, whatever it might be. I leave it up to you to choose whether to follow me to a possible safe haven, or else to go wherever your own conscience takes you. Whatever you decide, let no one deny your freedom to choose your own fate.”

Aloisia took a deep breath. “But let no decision be made in haste. This has been a very long and trying day for all of us. I intend to sleep through the rest of the night, so that I may wake tomorrow with a clear mind. I ask that all of you take your time to think things over before rushing to any conclusions of your own. Come morning - or else sooner or later - whatever you decide, let nobody tell you your choice is anything but your own to make. Thank you, and just as the Maker watches over us, let us all watch over each other in the days and nights to come.”

And with that, Aloisia left the top of the small hill and went over to a tent to get some sleep, most likely. Maker, but after all of that, I'm ready to fall down, too! Even as she thought it, as Sera began to unravel her bedroll, she wondered what it even meant to pray to the Maker anymore. What was the Maker, exactly? Was it even right to ask such a question? Even with Aloisia seemingly giving her permission, it was downright scary.

Sera was a little person, and these thoughts were too damned big to fit in her head. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about them?

The closing of the Breach should have been a cause for celebration, a cause for Solas to cease worrying about his most recent failure and to truly begin again in his search for his orb. It was time to finally concentrate on truly fixing this broken world. Instead, the night had been one impossible obstacle after another thrown in his way, and Solas could only wonder at just how terribly he had misjudged everything. Or rather, how much he had done so again.

When Aloisia had rushed off back to Haven from the Temple of Sacred Ashes, Solas had stayed behind to organize the mages into as steady and as hasty a return to Haven as he could, and Seeker Cassandra had not hesitated to impress onto him the urgency of the matter. Aloisia had seemingly left them both behind in her haste to prepare for an attack on Haven.

Solas had been worried about the truth of the so-called ‘Elder One’ ever since the confrontation with Alexius, and he hadn’t had time to confirm his suspicions about the approaching army before he was driven into a passageway through a hidden valley to the other side of the mountain and told to make sure the mages made it to the other side safely. He had been forced to hide his fury at Aloisia’s childish decision to stay behind to buy them all time to escape.

From anyone else, the selflessness would be admirable, but a leader could not afford to be so reckless. More than that, she still bore his mark. If Aloisia Kallig died, then all hope for the Elvhen died with her, and Solas was powerless to do anything about it! It infuriated him, but he bore the burden all the same, hoping against hope that this strange woman who held so much mystery about her could find a way out of an impossible situation.

After his confrontation with Aloisia in the Fade while under the guise of the Dread Wolf, Solas had come to realize that the Blade of the Maker was a truly extraordinary individual, even if not in the ways that he had expected. She was as complete a person as any proper being should be, and she had memories of things that Solas could not understand. How she came to be, why she was the way she was, he did not know. More than that, he was almost awestruck at the keenness of her mind, for she was far more guarded and intelligent than he had expected. Or perhaps she was rather more guarded and intelligent than he had hoped. It was all too easy to confuse one for the other, and such things had led to more terrible mistakes on his part than he would care to remember, but they had happened all the same.

And then, when Solas had beheld Aloisia's lifeless body, so too did he receive confirmation that it was indeed Corypheus who marched against them. There was also some superstitious nonsense about the Maker intervening on his Blade’s behalf, but none of that mattered to Solas, and he barely heard the debates that followed. He followed her body back to a healing tent, where he and the human apothecary got to work. Rather, the apothecary declared her tragically dead while Solas searched for any way at all to retrieve the mark from her corpse before it was lost forever.

He was puzzled to find faint traces of the mark where there should be none on a lifeless body, but regardless, it was not enough. Aloisia Kallig was dead, and so was the last hope to restore the Elvhen. Yet another in a long line of failures and mistakes brought on by the Dread Wolf. Perhaps he deserved this, Solas mused to himself. Perhaps after too many failures, this was some sort of karmic insurance that he would not make yet another tragic mistake on the long road that he had paved towards his grand intentions.

And then the magic of the mark had flared to life, and Aloisia Kallig opened her eyes. Solas could instantly tell that this was no spirit, and that this was the same woman that she had always been, but how had she come back to life? The ancient Elvhen from before the Veil did not die as others did, but with the Veil in place? Everything and everyone was mortal, or they should have been, and yet tonight had seen two exceptions. Corypheus should have perished in the explosion at the Conclave, and Aloisia should not be alive after having passed away in the cold mere minutes ago.

He had wondered aloud as to just what she was, and her answer had been no more than a jovial realization that she was, in fact, alive. By the look on her face, she did not seem to view him kindly, and perhaps he had not been considerate of what she must be going through. But then, how could he be sure of what she even was? It was a legitimate question, and for all he knew, all of this could have been part of some plan of hers. It would make her decision to remain behind seem more sensible, if she could foresee such a return from death. But if she could actually foresee such a thing, then that left the question of how it was even possible in the first place, let alone how she had achieved such a feat.

Not minutes later, Aloisia had spoken to the whole of the Inquisition and all of its allies, and her words had once again been entirely unexpected. Solas had anticipated that she would capitalize on this ‘miracle’ to draw the faithful even closer to her, to prop herself up as a truly divine being and to coerce the Inquisition into raising her up to even loftier heights. Instead, she had been very deliberate in her words, which Solas were almost certain were intended to sow seeds of doubt among the faithful. It was a gamble that she was making, Solas was certain. She was trying to lure them away from the conventional Chantry, and in the process soften them up for an alternative that Aloisia would be sure to provide to them in the days to come. It was far more cunning an approach than he had expected, and once again, Solas was forced to admit that he had underestimated Aloisia Kallig. Indeed, her words had been so far from what he had expected that he had almost missed her mention of glimpsing some manner of truth at the heart of the Black City.  That was a matter of no small concern, but there was nothing to be done about that for now, so Solas would focus on what was right in front of him.

Many of her points were well-made and worthy of discussion and debate, but to bring such doubts to the surface right here and now? Solas wasn’t sure if this was the best time or the worst time to raise such doubts among the people, but it was sure to be a turning point all the same. If there was one bright spot to be found in the darkness of everything that had happened in the past few hours, it was that the Inquisition was lost, and they would need a new place to call home.  Tarasyl’an Te’las was both relatively nearby and well-suited for the Inquisition’s needs, and Solas could gain standing and trust by leading the Inquisition to a safe haven there.

Or he could have done so, had not that strange object from the sky reappeared, and what Solas had missed in his earlier thought storm was now hovering right in front of him, literally casting a sign to follow it to sanctuary. Whether it was what the humans would know as Skyhold or somewhere else entirely, his chance to further influence the Inquisition was once again lost.

Solas knew enough to know when he truly did not know enough, and so after Aloisia had sent herself and the Inquisition to bed, Solas followed in the hopes of seeking out Wisdom and its guidance. Letting the wounded and the ailing take the tents, Solas contented himself with a simple bedroll. He would not feel the cold soon enough, and before he could feel the weather touch his skin, he was asleep.

The Fade took the shape of the Inquisition’s current campsite, and Solas was standing alone on one side of a bonfire in the center of the camp, empty save for himself and the woman standing across from him. She must have been waiting for him, must have discovered a way to find him. It was hard to know what Aloisia Kallig was and was not capable of, for she stood before him in the Fade, clad as always in her not-dwarven armor.

“Took you long enough to get here,” she chided him, pacing back and forth with her hands clasped behind her back. “I’ve been waiting for you, Solas.”

“You have?” he asked, genuinely surprised. “I will ask you again: what are you, Aloisia Kallig? What are you, to return from death as you have done?”

Aloisia did not stop pacing, but she did smile a thin, humorless grin. “I am what you see before you. I have never claimed to be anything other than what I am. Should you choose to see me as something else… Well, I think that says more about you than it does about me. Tell me, Solas, what do you think I am if not a human woman as I claim to be? Clearly you have so much knowledge and wisdom. Share with me what you believe you know, o elder one.”

Solas flinched at her choice of words for him, which could not have been anything but deliberate. “I do not know what you are, save that you are not… You are something that should not be! You are a human, and yet you shine brighter than any others of your kind. You have magic unlike any other craft that humans have ever practiced. You do not carry the arrogance of your kind, so you are either an impostor, or else something older and far deadlier.”

“Hah!” Her laughter was cold and carried a feeling of ruthlessness. “You speak to me of the arrogance of humans? Now who is other than what they claim to be, Pride? Were you so arrogant as to think that I would believe that you were here to help me? Did you truly believe that I would not learn all there is to know about an enemy the likes of which I’ve faced before? Do you actually think that I would allow you so close to me and mine without keeping watch over your every move and intention? But of course, you truly are that arrogant. It is who and what you are, Pride. You didn't think I wouldn't be able to find a simple lexicon with which to glean the meaning behind your name?  And oh, the implications of that name are simple enough with the tiniest bit of thought. They aren't even implications, but simply facts, and they are all that I need to know about you.”

More than the realization that she knew the meaning of his name, Solas was taken aback by her comparison of him to the enemy that she knew as the devourer of Ziost. “You compare me to that monster?! Whatever you may think of me, I do not seek-"

“You don't seek what?" Aloisia mocked cruelly.  "You don't seek to end all life on this world that does not suit your purpose?  You don't seek to bring an end to everything that is for the sake of a vision that is yours alone? You truly are a god, if you are so far removed from the world that you see all life as so far beneath you that it isn’t worthy of your care or notice. It is the only way that you can justify the genocide of humanity, of dwarvenkind, of the Qunari, and of countless other species beyond the borders of this continent that you haven’t even thought to look for. Or did you truly think that the Empire of Elvhenan had seen, knew, and conquered everything that could possibly exist in this world? And you wonder why I doubt the Maker? Only the truly evil can ever be ranked as gods. And I need look no further for such a reprehensible being than to gaze across the fire in front of me. I would ask you to prove me wrong, but you cannot. You are a monster, Solas, and despite that you know what you are, you persist in your evil ways. Why should anyone trust a word you say, let alone suffer you to live? Go on and think about it. I can wait.”

As much as Solas wanted to refute her words, he could not do so without meeting doubt at every turn of his thoughts. Every being that he had known that called itself a god was ‘evil’ in some sense of the term. The Evanuris, Corypheus. Even Mythal, with all of her matronly kindness, had a fickleness to her that could seem to the ignorant like the flightiness of a distant and uncaring god, and she had named herself a deity along with the rest of the Evanuris. Solas liked to think he knew her better than that, but from the perspective of the People… As the Dread Wolf, he had removed the vallaslin of any who sought sanctuary with him, but with his closeness to Mythal, so many remained bound to her will and her whims even as Solas freed the slaves of the other would-be gods.  Was he really so different from any of them?

“Solas!” a distant voice called, but its familiarity was a balm to his aching heart. A moment passed, and Wisdom was there at his side. “Solas, my friend! You have been through much, and while I am fascinated to learn of what you have experienced, I would ask you not to give in to Doubt. Clearly, you have been greatly affected for it to have changed its face in your eyes.”

Only a spirit could communicate with such clarity as to separate an entity from the emotion they emulated, and with horror, Solas realized the extent of the power that Aloisia Kallig had come to hold over him. She was not here at all, but he had come to associate her face with Doubt, and a demon now wore her skin as it smirked at him from across the bonfire.

Solas felt a cold fury inside him as the implications hit him. For the first time since… Since he could not remember when, he had allowed a spirit to get the better of him, to wear another face without him recognizing it for what it truly was.

“Go ahead and banish me then, Solas,” it said mockingly in Aloisia’s voice. “Your doubts are many and great, and I will find you again. Until then, do think on what I’ve said. This has been a most wonderful and enlightening conversation. You do feel rather enlightened, don't you?  No?  Take care while you can, Pride.  Even after I've gone, your doubts will remain in the depths of your soul, and you will never truly be rid of them.” And then the demon flew away on wings of fire, as if Aloisia Kallig had become a divine being out of some Chantry tale.

Solas took a moment to compose himself and turned to face Wisdom. “Thank you, my friend. I am beyond embarrassed that you had to see me like this. I should not have allowed myself to have been so completely fooled.”

“Perhaps,” Wisdom said, “but if your doubts weigh so heavily, then there is no shame in stopping to consider them. The source of Doubt’s power is that it bases itself in truth, however small that truth might be. It is up to you, Solas, to sort out the reality of yourself from the power that takes hold of you when the truth is exaggerated or minimized.”

Solas understood Wisdom’s words, and it made Doubt’s words all the more painful. “As much as I need your guidance in understanding what Aloisia Kallig truly is… Would you help an old fool come to terms with his own doubts? I find myself in need of wisdom now, more than I have for quite some time.”

“Then it is fortunate that I found you, my friend,” Wisdom said graciously. “Come, Solas, and share with me your burdens. Together, let us see if we can make sense of them."

Thankful for his friend’s company, Solas took Wisdom up on its offer, though a thought nagged at his mind that the demon had not brought up with words, but by its very presence. What did it mean that all of Solas’s doubts took the form of this human woman who bore his mark?

Whatever Aloisia Kallig was, she did hold a definite sort of power over Solas. The demon might be gone for now, but just as it had said, doubt still reigned in the shattered sanctuary of Solas’s very being.

Chapter Text

After weeks of uncertainty, of relying solely on faith to guide them to sanctuary, Cassandra marveled at where that faith had led them all. Surrounding her on all sides was a courtyard in the shadow of a grand fortress, with walls all around them that would be strong enough, perhaps, to survive even an onslaught from the Elder One and his dragon.

Solas had given the Blade a name for this sanctuary that he had claimed to have visited in the Fade. ‘Skyhold’ was the name of this keep, and it was far more fitting a headquarters for as grand an organization as the Inquisition was starting to become. They had only stumbled onto this haven a few days ago, led on by the flying silver knife that had descended from the heavens to save Aloisia Kallig from an enemy out of the darkest of legends.

Varric had been correct when he had first told this tale of Corypheus to her when he had still been her captive. He had insisted that she would not believe him, and the dwarf just had to be right. Not just about the tale itself, but about her not believing him when he spoke of it. No, it had taken Corypheus raising an army and marching it upon Haven – and only then for the survivors to bring back the name of the enemy – for Cassandra to even consider it as truth.

And now, all of the survivors from the attack on Haven – refugees just days ago – were finally safe, sending word to their loved ones or to their countrymen to recount the most incredible of tales that would no doubt grow in the telling, and Cassandra could not blame them. While Aloisia Kallig did not believe in the Maker, Cassandra understood that she could not very well say so to the masses and expect to be met with anything other than derision, hatred, and fear. And yet, she had returned to life through some means unknown to Cassandra. Could she say for sure that the Maker was not involved?

What she did know was that the Blade had probably lied about her ‘crisis of faith,’ but in so doing, she had sown the seeds of genuine doubt in many minds, including Cassandra’s own. Whether or not the Maker had truly intervened to save the Lady Kallig, the points that she had made about how the Maker could be seen as showing envy and pride were things that Cassandra very much wanted to ignore, to forget that she had ever heard, to refute with every fiber of her being as a matter of simple fact.

And yet, was she not a Seeker of Truth? Was it not her duty to search for the truths at the heart of all things, no matter how painful they might be? She had ignored Varric’s tale about Corypheus to her peril, and she owed it to herself to give Lady Kallig’s words serious consideration. A great many others had begun to voice similar doubts, and the long road from that dark and snowy campsite to this grand fortress had given Cassandra plenty of time to get a feel for many of the peoples of Thedas.

Josephine had communicated to Cassandra that the Blade’s statements were positive to send ripples through the nobility, allowing more liberal voices to come to prominence with even greater ease than the lack of a Divine already allowed. The ambassador had also tried to get Cassandra to give more public weight to her own opinions - taking into account her status as a Pentaghast - than was truthful or right, to which she had declined as politely - if curtly – as possible. But the common laypeople… Their protection and wellbeing were the reasons why the Inquisition existed in the first place, and if the organization was to serve them best, then Cassandra would have to put aside her pride and her preconceptions and get to know how the people truly felt about such a controversial divergence from Chantry orthodoxy.

Despite the professional pride that Cassandra felt in being a Seeker of Truth, she understood the fear that the organization inspired in those who felt as if they had something to hide. For the criminal and the corrupt, that fear was proper. For ordinary people who dared to question the world around them, it was an inevitable shame that upon seeing the flaming eye on her breastplate, they would become silent with terror. So it was that Cassandra donned a cloak that she closed in front of her – it would keep her warm if all else failed – and walked from group to group as they had made the trek through the mountains, following the flying silver knife.

From Cullen’s soldiers to refugees to faithful pilgrims, the answer was not quite universal, but it was close enough to give Cassandra a great deal of pause. The doubts that Lady Kallig had expressed – even if she had not truly felt them herself – were entirely commonplace among nearly every single person that Cassandra had spoken with. More than that, the people were increasingly devoted to Aloisia Kallig for, of all things, granting them permission to voice their own doubts aloud for the first time.

That night, she had tried to vent her frustrations at Leliana, who had simply chuckled in the way she did when she felt she was dealing with a particularly naïve individual. “Do you really not see how much the Chantry relies on fear to keep itself in power?” Leliana had chided her, and Cassandra had blanched at the notion of the Chantry ‘keeping itself in power’ at all, let alone relying on fear. But Leliana had continued. “You and I were Justinia’s Hands. I just had to let slip the right whisper in the right place to get someone to confess out of fear of retribution. And how did you first greet the Blade herself? ‘Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now,’ wasn’t it? The Left Hand uses a hidden knife and a razor-sharp smile to do the Divine’s work, and the Right Hand uses a sword, a shield, and the authority to interrogate civilians in the empty homes of their best friends. Or am I wrong? And should you ask any Circle mage what they fear most, the answer will most likely be a suit of armor with a Blade of Mercy emblazoned on it.”

Cassandra’s dreams that night had filled her with terror and anxiety once she had finally managed to fall asleep. She had been awake for too long thinking on Leliana’s words. The horrible things that Leliana had spoken of came so easily to her lips, and it caused Cassandra to wonder if she had ever truly known who Divine Justinia had been in life. Leliana had known her before she had become Divine, and Chantry politics were often as cutthroat as the Great Game of Orlais, and sometimes they even overlapped. Had Cassandra truly been no more than a bludgeon used to inspire fear in Justinia’s enemies all this time? As much as she wanted to lay the blame for something – anything – at Varric’s feet, Cassandra could not deny that she had not arrested him for any crime at all. No, Varric’s interrogation and imprisonment had been solely due to his association with Marian Hawke, and Cassandra had taken him to the house of the woman he was most loyal to in order to interrogate him.

The things that Leliana did in the name of the Divine were unsavory and unsettling to Cassandra, but she respected that Leliana made no apologies or excuses for her actions. Having been called out by her counterpart, Cassandra had to wonder at just how much the Chantry truly did rule by fear. Why did so many people feel the need for permission of all things to simply speak their minds?

The next day, Cassandra donned her cloak again and sought out the answer, and she did not like what she heard, but neither could she deny it. Whichever group she posed the question: ‘Why did you never confide in a Chantry mother about your doubts,’ the answer was inevitably the same. Fear of being branded a heretic or a blasphemer. The fear of excommunication that would follow such accusations, and the same fate that would fall on any who harbored such a person, sold goods to such a person, took pity on such a person.

And whenever Cassandra pointed out that the civil laws of Orlais, Nevarra, Ferelden, or any of the Free Marches would never allow such injustices to stand, the answer was also universal. People might feel ruled over by a king or an empress, but they simply understood to be true that the Chantry ruled over all such nations and overrode any secular laws with religious mandates. Orlesians tended to point to the Sunburst Throne sitting empty as a reason for the War of the Lions growing ever worse, and Fereldans saw the Chantry implicitly backing Orlais during its occupation of their homeland in decades past by ‘allowing’ it to happen.

And yet, in spite of all of these doubts being brought to the surface, there was still cause to hope, Cassandra found. Faith in the Chantry as an institution might be at an all-time low, but faith in the Maker was running remarkably high in the days since the assault on Haven. The sentiment was the same no matter whom she asked. In this, the people were truly united. Were they not following a sign from the Maker Himself, they all wondered. Had He not brought His Blade back to life to lead His children to safety? Had He not sent her unto them to question the Chantry and to usher in something better for future generations?

Cassandra herself was torn. On the one hand, she desperately wanted to believe that Lady Kallig’s return to life was a miracle, a boon from the Maker Himself, and that the silver knife in the sky was a genuine guide from Him to His Blade. And here they were now, safe in Skyhold’s courtyard. However, Cassandra knew all too well that wanting to believe something was not the same as actually believing in it. It came down to whether or not Cassandra believed the Blade’s tales about being from a star in the sky, and whether this miraculous aid was truly divine, or else something from the Blade’s past that defied an explanation that Cassandra could comprehend.

An exchange of words – among the very first that Lady Kallig had shared with Cassandra and the other senior advisors – had been a rebuke against Cullen for his disbelief in her tale. She had told him that his ‘belief or lack thereof is irrelevant,’ and Cassandra wondered if those same words held true in the here and now, and if so, to what extent. They most certainly applied to the Blade herself, given her stated disbelief in the Maker, but did they apply to Cassandra as well? And if so, then why not everyone else?

They were safe for now, yes. And they had been led to safety by Aloisia Kallig, yes. The Blade of the Maker was advocating for a great deal of change from what the world had been like before the attack on the Conclave, and that change was already being felt with the free mages at their side. In truth, without the mages to provide fire for the long trek through the mountains, they might not have made it to Skyhold at all, or at the very least not as swiftly. They have done as the Blade – and as the Chant – have both wished of mages, have they not? They have used their magic to serve the needs of others. Is this not a sign that her path is the right one?

Cassandra had to ask herself: Did she really believe that Aloisia Kallig had been sent by the Maker, and did she truly believe that the changes she sought to bring about were His will? The mages had already proven their worth and good will by sustaining them all with their fire spells, and the Blade had succeeded in closing the Breach, and only then after sealing so many other rifts in Ferelden and Orlais during her travels.

It was painful to admit, but Cassandra sometimes wished that she had never heard Aloisia Kallig tell her of her origins. It would be so much easier to place her faith without that inconvenient truth – at least according to the Blade – hanging over her head. At that thought, Cassandra realized how dangerously close she was to straying from the path of a Seeker of Truth. Ignorance was not bliss, as the saying went, but rather a serious danger that she felt obliged to ward the world against.

As these thoughts came to her, Cassandra had felt a chill go up her spine. If I find it harder to follow my faith now that I know the truth – or at least the truth as the Blade tells it – what does that say about me? Is it easier to believe in something without the truth acting as an obstacle? The truth should never be an obstacle to anything! What do I believe, truly?

Only now, at the end of one step of the Inquisition’s journey, did Cassandra seek out Mother Giselle in a garden just outside the main hall of Skyhold. It was a short walk up the stairs to the great hall and then out into the garden, and while the fortress was in a state of disrepair, there was no denying that with a touch of care and renovation, it would serve as a far better headquarters for the Inquisition than Haven could ever have done, as small as it had been before its destruction.

As much as she had needed the comfort and counsel of a Chantry mother days before during the trek through the mountains, Cassandra had recognized that many others had a far greater need, and so she had waited. Before the attack, she had confided in the Chantry mother a few times in the chantry at Haven, and Giselle had struck her as the kind of understanding and empathetic woman that more Chantry clerics ought to be. Perhaps if there had been more like her over the centuries, then maybe there would not be so much fear of confiding in a Chanty mother among the populace today.

The benches surrounding the garden sat many people looking, presumably, for some quiet and solace after the long journey through the cold and snowy mountains. Strangely enough, the cold that surrounded this fortress did not seem to penetrate into Skyhold itself. Perhaps some ancient enchantment kept the elements at bay. Mother Giselle was tending to a pot of elfroot, and Cassandra ventured over to see if she had a moment to spare.

Thankfully, the Chantry mother spotted Cassandra and waved her over to her side with a warm smile. She complied and approached, wondering at the plant to which they were watching over. “Elfroot. Not quite what I would have expected to see in such a place.”

“It was the wish of the Blade of the Maker that we look beyond aesthetics to a different sort of beauty,” Giselle explained. “With a proper garden, soil can be tended and fertilized to better the growth of healing herbs. She believes that it will remind visitors of the long road ahead of us, while also giving them comfort that there will be aid and succor awaiting them in their trials. Do you disagree, Seeker Pentaghast?”

Cassandra shook her head. “No, I cannot fault the Blade’s reasoning in this,” she said, truly admiring how a practical course of action did not at all require the forfeiture of comfort. “And I do not come to you today as a Seeker of Truth, but as a simple woman in need of guidance, Mother Giselle. If you have the time to spare, that is?”

“Of course, child,” Giselle said with a small nod of her head as she walked over to a small bench. Cassandra followed and sat down beside her. “What sort of guidance do you feel you in need, Cassandra?”

Cassandra sighed and had to stop from hanging her head. “Where to start?” she said, biting back a humorless laugh. “I find myself doubting many things I once took comfort in their certainty. Now, things are not nearly so certain. During the journey from Haven, I asked the people how they felt about the Blade’s more radical statements. I have never been ashamed of being a Seeker of Truth, but I understood that I had to hide the emblem on my armor to get an honest answer. And the people… They felt as the Blade said, but they had never felt free to come forward with their doubts until her speech gave them permission, at least in their eyes.”

“And this bothers you?” Giselle asked, her voice calm and gentle. “That the people you spoke with did not feel comfortable voicing their doubts until now?”

“It bothers me greatly, Mother,” Cassandra replied. “I tried to confide my frustrations in Leliana, but she seemed to dismiss my feelings as childish. To her mind, the Chantry has always ruled by fear. More than that, from her perspective, the Chantry does so to keep itself in power, as if it was the same as a tyrannical magister. And the next day, when I asked about the nature of their fears, many people feared that should they be honest with their doubts, that they would be excommunicated and then shunned by society. I found these opinions – and their widespread nature – to be disheartening to the point that it felt truly horrific.”

“Cassandra, my child,” Giselle said, her voice full of warmth. “In my time at Haven, I have come to know you, though not as well as perhaps would be ideal. But I know that despite your often harsh exterior, you have the heart of an idealist. I have heard tell, and please tell me if I am mistaken, that upon being told that your duty was to serve the Chantry, you replied that your duty was, in fact, to serve the principles upon which the Chantry was founded. It would be a great deal simpler and better if everyone in the world recalled those principles at all times, and if they followed those principles. But the truth of the world is never so simple, is it?”

“You heard correctly,” Cassandra confirmed, taking a moment of silent pride in staying true to her principles rather than bowing to a bureaucrat. “And the harsh truth of the world is hard to bear. And yet, I am a Seeker of Truth. The duties of a seeker are not necessarily those of a search for real answers, but it is that path that I have tried to follow ever since I finished my vigil. What troubles me most, Mother, is that the Blade has revealed certain things to me. They are private thoughts that I shall not repeat, but they have given me a perspective that I lacked prior to meeting her. With the benefit of that insight, I find it harder to accept on faith that the Maker is truly intervening as directly as so many wish to believe. In truth, I am unsure whether or not to believe that Aloisia Kallig is truly the Maker’s chosen as we have all proclaimed her. And I know that I would not have these doubts if not for the new perspective that she has shown me.

“So here I am, Mother Giselle. A Seeker of Truth who has been presented with something that may very well be the truth that she spends her life looking for. And that very truth conflicts with my faith and my beliefs as I have always held them. Can I only hold fast to my faith if I ignore a truth that stares me in the face? Can I believe in a series of living miracles if my devotion to truth forces me to question such miracles at every turn?”

Cassandra stared at her hands in her lap, and only when Mother Giselle took her hands in her own did she realize that she had been shaking. “The Blade has called many things into question that we once took for granted,” Giselle said. “I cannot pretend that her words that night did not disturb me. I feared that such words from a living miracle, as you put it, would guide too many astray. And yet, I found myself comforting so many souls beset by doubt, just as you are. Perhaps she did give them the permission to speak freely that they had never felt before. If so, then those of us in the Chantry must look inward and search for a better way to serve the people.

“And as for your own dilemma, my child, you must come to understand the very foundations of your beliefs, so that certainty might be built up from that framework. Do you believe that the Maker created this world and the Fade and all that dwell within?” Giselle asked.

As much as Cassandra knew she needed to be faithful to the Inquisition, she needed to be sure of her own faith if she was to do so at all legitimately. “Before I answer that, Mother Giselle, I feel a need to confide in you something that the Blade confided in me. I ask that you keep this private, for this… This idea that she shared could change everything if it was more than an idea. And yet, I cannot drive it from my mind.”

“The human imagination is perhaps the greatest gift that the Maker gifted to his second children,” Giselle comforted her. “There is no shame in having an idea. Acting upon an idea, however, can be a world of difference depending on the nature of the action.”

Cassandra nodded silently. “The Blade… She told me of how she would look up at the night sky, and she would ponder the stars. She came up with a truly wondrous and preposterous tale that I nevertheless cannot put out of my mind. She imagined that the sun is no different from any other star in the sky, but other stars are simply so far away that they appear so small to us. And then she wondered that if our world can be so close to the sun, then why can there not be other worlds out there around other stars, with other life that we cannot begin to imagine?

“And I cannot help but wonder if the Blade’s idea is more than just an idea… Does the Maker’s vision and reach extend so far away from here? If we must truly spread the Chant of Light to all corners of the world, and if the Blade is right, then how should we define ‘the world’ if we wish to bring the Maker back to us? If I am to truly believe in the Maker and all of his creations, do I need to believe that he also created these suns and these worlds beyond our own that I cannot put out of my mind?”

To Cassandra’s great surprise, Giselle’s response was not a reprimand nor was it words of comfort, but rather a light chuckle that she hid behind one hand. “My, my. The Blade has certainly been blessed with a very healthy imagination, and for this, I am glad. Even without the doubts that Aloisia Kallig has raised since she was delivered back to us, her capacity for imagination beyond that which has led us to this point may be essential to moving forward as a people. The Chantry is far from flawless, and while Anders’s sacrilege is inexcusable, it is hard to argue that it was inevitable, whether in his own actions or those of someone else in another possible future that we will never know. The status quo that led to the Conclave was no longer sustainable, and if we are to find a new sense of stability to lead us into the future, we may need an imagination as broad as the Blade’s to guide us to what we cannot yet see ourselves.

“But that does not answer the heart of your concerns, my child. Please, forgive an old woman her ramblings,” Giselle said softly to Cassandra. “In my years with the Chantry, I have had my own crises of faith, my own failings of imagination. And yet, what is the Maker but a greater imagination than anything we can comprehend on our own? The Chant guides us, but in the end, it is a set of teachings passed down through the centuries by mortal men and women. Perhaps it is not necessarily the Chant as we have always known that you need to put your faith in, but in the ideals upon which the Chant was founded, no? The Chant already teaches us that the Maker brought forth everything that exists, the night sky included. If this is true, then surely his reach extends to whatever suns and whatever worlds that may or may not be out there, yes? Perhaps before we can worry about worlds beyond the sky, we must take care of this world of our own. Should we not unite this world of ours, so that the Maker can return to us? And then, once that is done, can we not help him to return to the stars in the sky?”

Cassandra couldn’t help but smile at Mother Giselle’s words. Not to believe in the Chant so directly, but in the principles upon which it was founded. Did she truly mean those words, or was she simply trying to guide Cassandra in a way that she would accept? It was helpful, all the same. For she did believe in the Maker, and if Aloisia Kallig was to be believed, then there were countless marvels beyond her understanding that were just waiting in stars that were actually suns. If one had but to look around at the world to behold the Maker’s work, then why was it so hard to believe that one could not look at another world and come to the same conclusion?

“Perhaps some other world, out in the night sky, has already dealt with their abandonment and called the Maker back to their side,” Cassandra wondered aloud. “Or perhaps there is a world so devout that the Maker never turned from them at all. If the Maker is truly infinite, then how arrogant must we be to believe that he concerns himself solely with us alone?”

“Perhaps it is not arrogance, child,” Giselle said gently, “but simply a lack of perspective. A lack of imagination. In truth, I had never once given a consideration to what the stars in the sky are. They have simply been stars, and that has been that. If the Blade is able to imagine such things so far beyond Thedas, then I can only begin to wonder at what changes her imagination may bring to Thedas itself. They are sure to be grand in scale, if her wonderings that night are any indication. I can only hope that the Inquisition serves to bring such imaginings to the people in a way that does not cause them to panic and despair. A larger imagination sees a larger picture, but to truly help the people of the world, she may need help to see the smaller pictures that make up that larger tapestry.”

Cassandra nodded and rose to her feet, followed shortly by Giselle. “Thank you for your time, Mother Giselle. You have given me a great deal of comfort, as well as what I hope is a healthy perspective moving forward.”

“No thanks are needed, child,” Giselle said. “After all, this is what the Chantry is meant to do, is it not? To bring aid and succor to those in need of healing of the body and of the soul? That being said, I was quite pleasantly surprised by the scope of the Blade’s imagination.”

“I was also surprised, if not quite as pleasantly,” Cassandra confessed. “She confided her thoughts to me in confidence out of fear that the Chantry would not be so understanding. And so I ask that you keep what I have told you in confidence as well.”

“Of course, child. That goes without saying,” Giselle comforted her. “And should you ever find yourself in a similar need again, I will be here to listen and to offer what aid I can.”

“Thank you, Mother Giselle,” Cassandra said. “Let the Maker guide us to find the best way to handle such a large imagination as Aloisia Kallig is sure to share with the world.”

Ever since arriving at this monumental sanctuary – Skyhold, it was called, if Solas was to be believed – Leliana had been working nonstop to manage her network, to prioritize incoming updates and to inform her agents of certain necessary changes brought about by the destruction of Haven and their relocation. And now that word had gotten out that the fledgling Inquisition had faced down one of the Magisters Sidereal, lived to tell the tale, escaped to safety, and that the Blade of the Maker had risen from the dead after the Maker had descended from the heavens… Now the real impact was just beginning to be felt.

There were accounts coming in from pilgrims contacting their families, from mages reassuring their distant fellows, and from nobles boasting about their front-row seats to the horrors that they would recount as marvels…  Her agents collected all of these stories telling the same tale, and the reactions that were being reported would inform Leliana with how to move forward with her network of spies and scouts. But all of that could wait for just a few hours longer. For now, Leliana was enjoying a pleasant lunch with Josie that had been too long in the coming, and once it was over, they would finally formalize what had been apparent from the beginning: Aloisia Kallig was their Inquisitor.

For a brief moment of respite, Leliana was able to simply talk and gossip with her wonderful, gentle friend. Of course, with the world as it was, all of their conversation, all of their gossip inevitably ended up centering itself on one very singular woman.

“You made sure to tell her about this announcement?” Leliana asked Josephine. “She would not want us to ambush her with this, even in jest. Betrayal leaves deep wounds that make certain innocent things take on a less-than-flattering hue from a certain point of view.”

“Maker, Leliana! Yes, I told her three days ago. I told her the date, the time, the place, and I am positive that I told you all of this the moment that I had done so,” Josie said with a strange smile on her face. “If you don’t mind me saying, you haven’t shown this much concern for someone since… Well, you once had quite the crush on Solana Amell, even if you were able to swallow those feelings when she committed herself to King Alistair. Even the passion you showed back then pales next to…”

Leliana laughed at Josephine’s pause. “Oh, yes. Next to her. Maker, she is utterly unlike anyone I have ever encountered. Dorothea was so much to me, but when I look back at the fondest memories, they are simultaneously thoughts of her tending to me as a mother tends to a child of the faith, or else as a fellow player of the Game, planning on how to bring about positive change. Solana… That was just a girlish crush. She was not just a Grey Warden, but a mage as well. And I had deluded myself into thinking that I was somehow meant to be at her side, as if I was the Ealisay to her Andraste. Perhaps it was the path that the Maker intended for me to walk, but I was arrogant enough to assume that I was the one to judge it at the time.”

“Leliana,” Josie said, her voice soft with concern. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Josie,” she reassured her friend. “I’ve just had a lot of time to think about this, and it feels good to finally unload all of these feelings into something coherent. Dorothea and Solana were both extraordinary women who gave all they had to better the world. And yet, I never once thought of them as anything other than mortal women, however wonderful they might have been.”

Josephine let out a small ‘ah’ of understanding. “So, you believe that Lady Kallig is truly some manner of divinity made flesh? It feels silly to even ask such a question, or it would have felt quite silly before…”

“Before,” Leliana said, and really, there was nothing else to say. Aloisia Kallig had three distinct stages in the lives of everyone here at Skyhold. Before the Conclave, she had been no one of note. After that, she had been the sole survivor, with a mark on her hand to close the Breach while wielding a sword of fire. And now… Now circumstances had conspired to elevate her to heights not seen since the time of Andraste herself.

Josephine sighed and leaned back in her chair, taking a small sip of wine. “I am proud of the work I do,” she said. “I find it both a duty and a joy to help bring people together without violence. And yet, how am I to answer inquiries that seek official input as to how to write an upcoming Canticle of Kallig? And oh, what am I to do with those who have not bothered to ask for any input and are doing so of their own accord?”

Leliana chuckled despite the horrific possibilities should such matters grow beyond control. “Aloisia once told me of a saying from her homeland. ‘May you live in interesting times.’ I thought it a curious sort of benediction, but she had to stop herself from laughing at me. To her people, it was a curse in a blessing’s guise. With what we are all dealing with… Well, I don’t believe anyone can deny that times are interesting, now can they?”

“No, they most certainly cannot deny that,” Josie said with a twinkle in her eye. “But going back to what I was saying earlier, you have shown quite a great deal of concern and compassion for Lady Kallig. More than that, it is less and less ‘Lady Kallig’ or ‘the Blade of the Maker’ from your lips, Leliana. More and more, it is ‘Aloisia.’” Josie sighed. “I am the last person to tell you how to do your job, and I would love for you to find happiness where you can find it, but I am fairly certain that once upon a time, Sister Nightingale would have laughed at the very idea of even entertaining less-than-professional thoughts towards… Well, she was the Blade of the Maker. I am not quite sure what to make of her now.”

Had it been anyone else, Leliana would have stopped them from speaking such thoughts aloud in the first place. But Josie was a dear friend who was trying to look out for her, and Leliana had precious few friends as it was. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could refute what she was hearing. “She confides in me, personally, more than any other,” Leliana said. “Enough such interactions breed a certain familiarity. That is all there is. I am her spymaster, and a certain level of trust is required.”

The look on Josephine’s face told her that she believed the lie no more than Leliana believed it herself. “Perhaps that is the case. Her stories about…” Josephine gestured with one arm to the sky above them. “They indicate that she once led a coalition of sorts not unlike what we have here. She must have had a spymaster for such an organization. Did she insist on this level of trust and closeness with your predecessor? That is, from her perspective.”

Leliana couldn’t help but laugh out loud. To the best of her knowledge, Aloisia had told no one else that her dead wife had once been her spymaster. And it spoke to the influence that Aloisia naturally drew that Josie thought of her being so central that Leliana was a successor to the position of spymaster rather than Aloisia being the newcomer to Thedas. “She spoke very highly of her past spymaster,” Leliana said without technically lying. “She had made sure to build a certain level of trust that I believe she used as a template… For her relationship with me,” Leliana said, her voice trailing off into silence.

No, that is not the case! She knew Lana Beniko long before they were commander and spymaster, before they were even intimate. This is not a simple case of her replacing what she once had! It cannot be! I was one of her jailers, and I already had the role before she was forced into her own. This is just chance, nothing more.

“Leliana?” Josie said, leaning forward, a concerned look adorning her face. “Are you entirely sure that you are, well, sure of yourself?”

“Yes,” Leliana said softly. “Yes,” she repeated, louder and firmer this time. “Yes, I am sure of myself, Josie. It’s just… Thinking back on the women that made me who I am today – Dorothea and Solana – and how different they are from Aloisia. Even before she became a living miracle, she turned heads with every step, and not in the manner of just a pretty face. She does not invite attention. She commands anyone and everything in sight of her to stand up straight and give her their full attention. That very first day, just an hour or so after I’d last seen her in a cell, she ordered me to escort Chancellor Roderick away from the front when he called for her arrest. And I did as she said! I don’t know if it’s her Force, or if it’s just who she is, but I literally cannot imagine someone refusing an order from her.”

Josephine placed her elbows on the table and folded her hands in front of her. “I wonder… Could her voice be empowered with some essence of divinity? Some gift from the Maker to ensure that we follow her properly?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to Leliana, and had it been spoken about anyone else, she would have either laughed it off or else condemned it as blasphemy. And it was strange that Leliana even allowed herself to think of Aloisia as a woman at all rather than a divine agent of the Maker. Then again, Andraste had once been a mortal woman, beloved by all for her righteous crusade. Leliana hated to admit it, but she was actually struggling to figure out what manner of love she felt for the Blade of the Maker. Was it the platonic love accorded a comrade? Was it a manner of worship? Was it no more than childish lust? Or could it be something incredibly dangerous? Could her feelings for Aloisia Kallig be something… Something more?

“Oh, Maker! The sand has almost run its course,” Josie said, pointing to the hourglass at the table. “It is finally time for us to greet our Inquisitor. Although, it is strange, now that I think about it.”

Leliana was grateful for the change in topic as she got to her feet and walked with Josephine out of the main hall and down the stairs into the courtyard. “What is it that you find so strange, Josie?”

“It is just something an unusual request that Lady Kallig made. Of course, looking back, her requests increasingly seem like mandates, divine or otherwise, so I simply did as she asked. I wonder now if I should have asked why.”

Leliana didn’t like where this was going, but she waited to speak until they reached their spot at the base of the stairs. “What should you have asked about?”

“Well,” Josephine said, rubbing her hands anxiously, “normally, when an announcement like this is planned, I am ready to send word to every noble house in Thedas what is going to happen before it actually happens. The announcement itself is a formality for many. But, the Lady Kallig specifically asked that I wait for her to speak before I write anything to anyone at all.”

Now Leliana was truly alarmed. “Why did you wait until now to tell me this, Josie?!”

“Please, Leliana!” Josephine said, recoiling ever so slightly. Leliana cursed herself for letting her anger get the better of her. “She said that it would be best not to tell anyone at all. As much as she may not like being surprised, I do believe she intends to surprise everyone else. I believed that as our leader in practice, she should be allowed to choose how she accepts the mantle in name. She specifically asked that she be allowed that much, now that I recall.”

Leliana couldn’t help but laugh. It was a small chuckle at first, but soon she was bending over in a fit of laughter. “Oh, this is just the very day, isn’t it? Don’t you see, Josie? She has her own designs, and she wanted to make absolutely sure that no one could prevent or circumvent whatever it is she has planned. Especially me. Can you believe that I once thought that I could manage her? That I could control her, Josie? Maker, I had no idea who I was dealing with. Maker-sent or not, she is formidability personified.”

As if speaking of the woman had summoned her unto their presence, Leliana caught Aloisia Kallig walking out of the main hall of Skyhold and descending the steps until she reached a platform where the stairs took a turn. She stopped there as if to use it as a dais from which to speak. The word had gone out that the Blade of the Maker would be speaking about the future of the Inquisition, so a large crowd had already gathered.

Leliana didn’t know if it was magic or else just the force of her personality, but the moment Aloisia stepped outdoors, all conversation immediately fell silent as they waited for her to stop and turn to face them. When she did, almost every single person assembled fell to one knee and bowed their heads. To Leliana’s surprise, Josephine did the same. Only when she found herself on eye level with Josie did she realize that she had herself literally bowed down before Aloisia Kallig.

The silence in the air made it all the clearer when Aloisia spoke, and she began with one word. “No,” she said. It was simple and curt, and whatever she was refuting, Leliana knew that there would be no denying her. “No, I will not have anyone bow to me,” she clarified. “I allowed it once before, in a moment of folly. I had recently returned from the dead, and I was very much confused. I had many doubts that I felt the need to unload upon all of you, and in my confusion and uncertainty, I did not realize until the next day that you had bowed before me.

“I will not have that from anyone,” she demanded. “I am not a queen or an empress, let alone a prophet or a goddess. I am but one woman who is trying her best to make this world a better one for future generations. If such things are worthy of worship, then you had best make some changes to your daily lives. Instead of greeting each other with a handshake, will you now prostrate yourselves before one another? It is a ridiculous notion, is it not? So on your feet, all of you. I will not be glorified in such a manner. If you elevate me in such a way, then you bring down the Maker in the process. I would not have that, and I do not believe any of you would either. So please, stand up, everyone. We are all but mortal people here. Let us treat each other as such.”

Leliana felt immediately stupid for succumbing to peer pressure and for bowing as she had. The masses might not know it, but being deified was perhaps the very last thing that Aloisia Kallig would ever want. In her experiences, gods were powerful forces of evil to be fought at every turn. To be compared to her worst enemies… Leliana should have known better and never knelt. She would have to personally apologize for that. Aloisia deserved that much. All the same, the common masses would see this as an act of humility that would only cement her as worthy of their devotion.

As Leliana rose to her feet alongside Josie, so too did she feel the wave of air moving as the whole of the crowd stood up, approving murmurings sounding from all around her. Looking up at Aloisia, she stood with her legs placed evenly apart, her back straight, her arms folded behind her at the small of her back, and her gaze straight ahead. She was garbed in the same distinctive armor that had always worn. There was no ornamentation, no fancy dress, nor any sort of ceremonial armor other than what she donned every day. She stood before them as she always had, though Leliana could not deny that for all that she demanded that they not bow, Aloisia Kallig did now stand very much above them all, both literally and figuratively.

When the crowd had quieted down, Aloisia visibly smiled, and Leliana couldn’t help but notice how it lit up her face. The Blade of the Maker was so often taking charge of some manner of business that her smiles were rare things to behold. Seeing her smile so genuinely brought out a beauty that consistently left Leliana breathless whenever she beheld it. “Thank you, all,” Aloisia said at last. “Thank you for so many things, but I think they all are worth mentioning. Thank you for persevering through the mountains. Thank you for helping your fellow refugees to take that next step, or for loaning them a blanket, or for lighting them a fire. Thank you for believing that the loss of Haven was not the end of all things. Thank you for having faith that we would find sanctuary at the end of our journey.

“Thank you for choosing to remain and support our efforts to build Skyhold into a place where you can feel safe and at peace within its walls. And most important of all, thank you for respecting those who chose to leave us in peace, who chose not to follow this path we are walking together,” Aloisia said, and Leliana felt a certain intangible weight behind those words. “That last point bears special mention. When she marched against the Tevinter Imperium, Andraste did not conscript everyone she met into her armies. They made the choice to follow her because they believed in the future she offered them. I am not Andraste, and I am not close to what she was. But if the Bride of the Maker will not force others to follow her, then neither will I. Neither should anyone ever force another to make a decision not their own. So for honoring the wishes of those who still feel honest doubt, I thank you, truly.”

There were times when Leliana could not believe that Aloisia Kallig had ever been a slave as she claimed. She commanded with such ready authority that it was almost as if she had been birthed into the world fully grown, armed, and armored. And then she spoke of the freedom of choice in such a way, and Leliana could not deny that it was a vitally important part of Aloisia’s psyche. She would have to learn the truth behind this, but that would have to wait until this speech – and all the consequences that were sure to follow – were over and done with.

“So with that out of the way, we come to why I have asked you all to gather here,” Aloisia said. “It was Divine Justina’s last wish that the Inquisition take charge to bring stability should the Conclave fail. Perhaps the Conclave could have brought about a peaceful solution had it not ended in violence thanks to the terrorism of Corypheus. In the wake of the Conclave’s tragic demise, I emerged as the Inquisition’s champion. I was heralded as the Blade of the Maker. The latter was a title that others bestowed upon me, and the former was merely the byproduct of fulfilling my duty as a citizen of the world. And as I have come to lead through various trials and tribulations, I cannot help but question certain things. Names have power, and those names with history carry additional weight. I want to finish the work Divine Justinia began, but with my deepest respects to such a shepherd for her flock, I wonder if perhaps the names and the labels we have been using should be reconsidered.”

“What?!” Leliana said in a hard, cold whisper before she could stop herself. As the crowd held its breath, she felt the weight of their collective gaze upon her, but she did not flinch. Justinia’s last wish – Dorothea’s last wish – was being actively reconsidered?! This could not have been what Leliana’s dear friend and mentor would have wanted, was it? Justinia had trusted Leliana and Cassandra to carry out her orders for the good of Thedas, and now Aloisia Kallig thought to take away her final legacy and repurpose it?!

“When the Inquisition of old came to an end,” Aloisia said, “it reorganized into the Templar Order and the Seekers of Truth, who then became guardians of the Circles of Magi. Let me be clear: the Circles are a thing of the past. No more will we raise our children to fear gifts granted to them by the Maker. We must welcome the Maker’s glory in whatever form it takes. For young mages, we must provide them comfort and reassurance, so that they do not feel the fear or desperation that could lead to possession. Parents must teach their children virtuous behavior, so that they know to use their gifts to serve man, and never to rule over him.

“Magic is a gift from the Maker, and those born with His gift are blessed. The Templars as we know them are a different story. The Chantry was born out of the ashes of war with the Tevinter Imperium. Fear of magical oppression led not to true liberation, but instead to the oppression of magic. And while mages are born, their gifts given to them by the Maker, Templars are made. They are not divinely gifted at all, but rather mutated by mortal men and women so that they might serve as jailers. Perhaps that purpose was once genuine and sincere, but the hostilities that made the Conclave necessary showed a clear end to what might have once been a noble organization.

“And if that was not enough, the Templar Order no longer even stands. Its ranks have been usurped and corrupted by Corypheus. They have been mutated far beyond what mortal man can imagine. The Red Templars are a creation of monsters, and while I would very much wish for there to be a cure for such corruption, in my heart, I know that while seeking peace and common ground is an ideal to strive for, there are some things so foul, so corrupt, and so utterly evil that the only solution is to destroy them completely. Corypheus is one such enemy, and he has taken the Templar Order and remade it in his own image. They are Templars no longer, not as we understand them. A Red Templar is no Templar at all, but a monster wearing the flesh of what was once a man or a woman. Their deaths are more a mercy than anything else.”

The notion of a monster’s death being a mercy… Leliana could only recall one other time where she had felt that way about something that could not be called a man or a woman. When Solana and Alistair had explained the nature of the enemy in the Deep Roads – the Broodmother, they had called it – Leliana had been shaken to the core. The sources of the Darkspawn horde were women corrupted by the Blight into something unrecognizable. Not even the Archdemon had seemed as repulsive to Leliana as that horrific bag of flesh that had once been a mortal woman. The thought that there might be some part of that woman still aware of what she had become… It was one of the more terrifying things that Leliana had ever imagined. Was this truly the nature of the Red Templars?

Aloisia cleared her throat, and the silence that followed was almost comical. Maker forbid she should actually demand silence with words, if this was all it took to quiet a crowd. “And so we come back to the Inquisition,” Aloisia continued. “Looking back at the roots of the organization, what it became, and where we are now, I am not entirely comfortable with carrying that name. It has a legacy all its own, and I would like to think that we all hope to leave behind a different, better legacy for our children. And if we are not to be an Inquisition… I will still lead as best I am able, but whatever title I bear, I will not be an Inquisitor.”

There was a collective intake of breath from all around Leliana, and she couldn’t help but direct an angry glare up at Aloisia. On some level, she understood that the mission statement of their group was not going to change, and she also realized that Aloisia’s goals were likely the same as she had always made clear. All the same, the Inquisition was all that she had left of Justinia, and of Dorothea before that. While it was clear that their work would continue, but not as the Inquisition in name, Leliana felt more than a little torn. On the one hand, Leliana’s dear friend and more would probably not object to a change in semantics if it meant that the good work would continue. On the other hand, would it truly be the same at all if Aloisia wrested it all away and remade it in her own image?

Just as she had in the immediate wake of her miraculous resurrection, Aloisia held up an open palm, and Leliana felt her roiling emotions fade to a sort of calm, and the hushed whispers all around her fell silent. Aloisia had told Leliana about how the Force, as she called it, and how it could influence the hearts and minds of others, and she had made it clear that she drew a sharp line between calming a crowd and other, far more invasive things that she claimed were not spells. Regardless, this magic called 'the Force' was almost entirely unknown, and that made it a threat that she could not ignore, no matter how noble Aloisia’s intentions.

At last, she spoke again. “As much as I would wish for us to merely act as fellow people, working towards a common good, names do have power. Words do have weight, and so I have come to understand that as a leader, I must take up a new mantle. I have been named ‘the Blade of the Maker,’ but I will confess that this name makes me feel ill at ease. Archon Hessarian may have used his sword to grant Andraste mercy, but in the end, a blade is a weapon, and weapons have only one purpose: to bring an end to life. You could call it vanity on my part, but I would prefer to be known as something other than an instrument of death, no matter how merciful the intent behind the symbolism.”

Leliana couldn’t help but arch an eyebrow at the notion that Aloisia could simply rebrand herself, even though no one was looking her way. Whatever new title she might have in mind, and whatever she might think of the Chantry, the word of the Maker was not going to simply disappear. Even with all of her force of personality, Aloisia Kallig would still be hailed as the Blade of the Maker. She might give herself a new title, but she would have to be quite willfully ignorant to believe that it would entirely preclude her old one.

“But before I speak of myself, I would speak of everyone else. I would speak of Thedas and its people, and what is to become of us as an organization going forward,” Aloisia said. “When I was very little, my mother told me a story, and it has stayed with me throughout all my years. In the tale, there was a king with three sons who each inherited an equal share of his lands when he passed. The brothers each had their own ideas on how to rule, and so one kingdom became three.

“The first brother decided that it would be best to rule with fear, for surely, nobody would challenge him if they were afraid to do so. He built a grand tower of black stone, with horrid spikes and blades jutting out from all sides. He told the people that the only safety to be found was within the tower, and he had his armies slaughter anyone who did come to his new kingdom. The tower stood, and the first brother ruled from its summit, and beneath him were the fearful masses.  Vast plains were left empty and fallow, for all were forced to live in the darkness of the tower.

“The second brother believed that it would be easier to rule if he was well-loved by the people, but nobody knew of him or any of his deeds. And so the second brother wove lie after lie, repeating his wild tales so many times that the people eventually stopped questioning them and came to believe that he was their savior. He built a tower of gleaming white marble that reached above the clouds themselves, and the people flocked to live in the tower to be closer to their king. From his seat in the sky, the second brother ruled above a people that he had tricked into worshiping him instead of the Maker.  Again, fields were emptied and left to ruin, as the people were deluded into staying in the marble halls to be closer to their king.

“But the third brother, after seeing the grand towers that his siblings had built, saw only the empty lands that they had forsaken, and he thought it a terrible waste. This last brother was wise, and he knew that he would not live forever, and that his kingdom would need to sustain itself in the years, decades, and centuries yet to come. And so instead of making his kingdom a tower that led only ever upwards to himself alone, he asked the people what it was that they needed to live and to thrive, and he bade them go forth and tend to the land that it might feed them and give them shelter. And should one person not be able to flourish on their own, their neighbors would be right next to them, ready to lend a helping hand.

“After many years, the people suffering at the bottom of the first brother’s black tower had become hardened from living in fear for so long, and they decided that with no hope of escape, they would bring low the one who had made them suffer. And so they took hammers to the walls at the base of the tower, which had been made frail by workers too fearful to give proper thought to its construction. The black tower came crashing down, and the first brother’s kingdom was no more.

“As for the second brother, once he had ascended to what he falsely believed to be godhood, he became lazy and corpulent, relying on the worship of his people to bring him luxuries of all kinds. As time passed, however, and their king remained so far removed from them, the people began to question his divinity. They looked back at the claims he had made, and while lies may hide the truth for a time, truth itself is eternal and indestructible. With the harsh light of day bringing the truth to light, the people abandoned the marble edifice and their false king. Without workers to attend to the masonry, the white tower fell, and the second brother’s kingdom fell along with it.

“Meanwhile, the third brother saw his people thrive by working together. Having been studious and attentive with his father’s lessons, he made sure to regularly talk to the people, to ensure that their needs were being satisfied. And if his people were unhappy, or else if they were threatened, then he would work to secure their happiness and their safety. And as he regularly walked among his people, he was neither feared nor worshiped, but simply welcomed as yet another neighbor in the community that all of the people had built together. He was no longer even truly a king, but merely a steward, helping to guide the men and women all around him into a better future.

“There were many lessons my mother tried to get me to understand from that story,” Aloisia continued, “and I believe that they are relevant to our situation here and now. In the story, as in life, an organization of any kind is only as strong as the ideals it was founded upon. A foundation of fear is a weak thing that will crumble the moment one person stands up and says, ‘no more.’ A foundation of lies cannot hold when the truth is inevitably revealed.

“And so I ask all of you to join me in embracing the ideals of the third brother in the story I have just told you. Let us not be an Inquisition. Let us not wield fear or lies in the pursuit of our goals. Let us be reborn as a Foundation of Fellowship, that we may build a solid groundwork for all of us – and for the entire world – to rise together as one people, united in the pursuit of the common good.”

After the briefest moment of silence, Leliana could hear a single pair of hands start to clap. A second and third pair of clapping hands soon followed, and then the entire crowd was applauding Aloisia. As much as the ideal was a noble one, Leliana could not join in the applause. And so, the Inquisition is no more, and we are now a Foundation of Fellowship. I am sorry, Dorothea, that I was not strong enough to stop Aloisia Kallig from repurposing your final request. I promise you, however, that I will do everything in my power to see that while the name may change, your wishes will still be fulfilled, and the great work you entrusted to us will continue.

Aloisia let the crowd cheer for a short while before she held up an open palm, and another wave of calm surged through Leliana, and the crowd quieted down. It was alarming that she could affect emotions in such a way. It might not be blood magic, but all the same, it was skirting perilously close to using magic to rule over man, depending on any individual’s perspective. And then, Aloisia spoke again. “I am glad to have found so many eager to work for a better tomorrow for all the peoples of Thedas. And if I may, I would ask that I no longer be a Blade, no longer a weapon. I wish for no worship nor fealty, and would rather that you see me merely as a guide - a Steward, if you will - doing her best to help Thedas towards a better future.

“During the battle at Haven, Corypheus came to confront me in person,” she said, and the crowd gasped at the revelation. Leliana wondered what such a thing had to do with her current announcement, but Aloisia rarely said anything without meaning. “He called me a rival without me even knowing it, and he told me that I must die. He thought that his words would seem to be a threat, but I will tell you what I told him. I told him that yes, I must die. But so must Corypheus die as well. Nothing lasts forever, and not one of us is immortal.”

Aloisia smiled and unfolded her hands from behind her back and extended them forward and to the sides, as if to embrace all the people standing and listening to her. “We live our lives, raise our children, and pass the world onto them to repeat the process. That is the way of the world, and that is what we must always keep in mind as we build this new Foundation. We will not seek glory nor riches or any sort of gain for ourselves alone. No, we will work for the benefit of all peoples, so that we may together leave a better world for our children that they might take up our work on behalf of their children yet to come. And so I ask you to join me in this grand work. Join me in building a Foundation of Fellowship on which to build a future that will look back, many years from now, and see that they live together in harmony because disparate people came together despite their differences for the sake of nothing more than an idea that tomorrow can be better than today if only we work to make it so.

“Thank you for your time, people of the Foundation. May the Maker watch over us and guide our actions in the days and weeks to come.” As another round of applause broke out, Aloisia descended the remaining steps and was quickly swarmed by the assembled crowd. Leliana did not rush to her side, but she did hang back to watch what was happening. And to her surprise, Aloisia seemed to simply be listening to and speaking with the people. There was so much excitement to speak with her that inevitably, someone started pushing, and a brawl seemed imminent.

But Aloisia merely stepped forward – the crowd parting to let her pass – and she simply placed a gentle hand on the shoulders of two squabbling men, exchanged some words that Leliana could not hear, and then the two recently-arguing parties grasped each other by the arm and smiled genuinely at some newfound bond, their conflict already forgotten.

Leliana couldn’t help but smile herself, as a few small tears of joy fell from her eyes. They might no longer be the Inquisition, but was this not the reason why Justinia – why Dorothea – had first called the Conclave? To bring people together rather than see them divided? Perhaps this would not be so bad after all, if only Aloisia would keep to her ideals and not let her influence go to her head. She is truly a remarkable woman, to walk this path of fellowship when she could have easily ruled as a divine prophet. It is no wonder that she inspires so much love in all who meet her.

The moment the thought crossed Leliana’s mind, she closed her eyes and shook her head, as if to banish the words from her memory. Alas, it was a futile endeavor. I cannot lie to myself anymore. I loved Dorothea in my own way, and I felt another kind of love for Solana Amell. Just what sort of love do I now feel for Aloisia Kallig?

Chapter Text

The first week after announcing the Inquisition's reformation into the Foundation of Fellowship - or just 'the Foundation' as it was being more commonly called - had been exceedingly busy to the point of hectic. Aloisia had been pulled in nearly every direction just trying to understand which issues would need to be solved first in order to make Skyhold actually livable for as many people as possible. Most of these concerns had to do with the state of disrepair in any given part of the keep, and the stress of the situation had led to a few scuffles over trivial things being blown out of proportion. In the end, however, the work progressed.

The direst situation that Aloisia had needed to personally intervene in had involved Cole. Whatever he was, the boy-like being claimed that he wanted to help, but his idea of ‘help’ was certainly an interesting one. He had been watching over the wounded one day, being attended to by a number of healers both mundane and magical, when Aloisia had found him, and Cole had shared with her his intent to kill an injured man to spare him pain. The healers hadn’t seemed overly hopeful for his chances when she had asked, but they weren’t giving up on him.  Aloisia found herself sounding like a Jedi as she told Cole that the quick and easy path isn't always the best way to solve a situation, and perhaps the man might heal given time and attention.

Thankfully, Cole had taken the lesson to heart, and Aloisia had walked away from him with what she hoped was a greater sense of mutual understanding between the two of them. From Cole, Aloisia had learned that he was a being - likely a spirit given his singular drive towards helping others - that could become invisible, or else could make weak-minded individuals forget his presence entirely. For her part, Aloisia very much hoped that she had imparted onto Cole the value of living one's life, even if that life might be painful at times. More than that, she had tried to help him to understand that pain was sometimes necessary. When Aloisia had been a small child, she had knocked a glass off of a table in her master’s house, earning her a non-lethal dose of electricity through her shock collar. It had been the most painful thing that she had ever felt at that stage in her life, and with her master’s threats, she had learned a lesson about taking greater care that she did not forget.

Thankfully, shock collars did not exist in Thedas as far as she knew, but she phrased the meaning of learning through pain in words that she hoped that Cole would understand. If a child put his hand over a fire, the child was likely to get burned and to feel hurt. Without the pain, however, the child would never learn the dangers of fire, and he would keep doing it again and keep hurting himself. Pains and failures were lessons that helped people to grow, and to avoid such hurts in the future. Aloisia made sure that Cole understood not to make people forget their pain, as otherwise they would never learn. Cole had claimed to understand, but that it didn't stop him wanting to help with the immediate pains. Aloisia tried to phrase it as helping people by stopping their hurts from happening in the future, but she wasn't entirely sure if he had fully understood her.

After getting to know Cole a little better, Aloisia had taken the time to speak with every individual that she trusted to accompany her personally into battle. She wanted to assure them that she was still the same person that she had always been, and that no demonic influence was at play in her resurrection. She also confided in the Iron Bull, as she expected to have him accompany her as well.  She preferred to venture out with him sooner rather than later, as even if she didn’t trust him one bit, it would do well to keep a potential enemy close where she could keep an eye on him. Still, Bull and his Chargers had fought together with Aloisia briefly on the Storm Coast, and their relationship could grow from there, however carefully.

After the first full week after the restructuring into the Foundation, things began to settle down into a more mundane and tedious routine. Their numbers were positively swelling now as word of the 'miracles' at Haven and the nature of their enemy spread, and countless small campsites across Ferelden and Orlais were slowly being transformed into sizeable encampments more befitting a national army than an small and independent peacekeeping force. The day had finally come when Aloisia could not personally meet and know every member of her new organization, but she could and did insist that anyone residing at or visiting Skyhold itself would need to make themselves known to her.  Guests and especially staff were the priority for Aloisia.  Temporary visitors would require her attention, and servants went everywhere and saw everything.  They were the most likely candidates for spies - Sera had proven this with her 'friends' - and Aloisia wanted them to know that she valued and trusted them and did not take their service for granted.  She did not tell them that if any of them betrayed her, they would have to look her in the eye and beg for their lives, for such a thing would be very personal to Aloisia.

And as the Foundation’s numbers grew, so too did its reach and influence, and so did more and more people of ever-growing social standing begin to make a sort of pilgrimage to Skyhold in order to petition the Foundation for aid with whatever problems they might be facing.  Aloisia found herself needing to hold audiences, and she had nearly collapsed in terror when Josephine presented to her an ornamented chair, its back in the style of a star bursting with sunrays.  One could argue that it was just a chair with an Andrastian design, but there was no denying what it truly was: a throne.

Ever since seating herself upon the Eternal Throne and doing battle with the Emperor in the middle of her own mind, Aloisia had been forced to take a seat on other Iokathi thrones to permanently quell the six machine-gods that seemed incapable of being fully destroyed. Damaging them sufficiently managed to earn her the right to control them, but Aloisia knew that weapons of such power could only do harm, so she had done her best to shut them down for good.

And then, on Nathema, Zildrog’s followers had imprisoned people on similar throne-like interfaces, and the ancient machine had drained their very lives to fuel its rebirth before turning its rage upon the Eternal Fleet and destroying it to the last ship. If not for the power of thrones…  Aloisia would never admit it, but she had come to truly fear such things. Her response to Josephine had been overly harsh in the heat of the moment. After calming down and apologizing, however, Aloisia suggested a simple, rectangular block of wood, entirely unfurnished, to serve as her seat of power, if she had to have one. She wanted it to be big enough to seat two or three people, perhaps, but with no back, no armrests, and no ornamentation. It would merely be a block of wood upon which one or more people could sit, and nothing more than that.

The Foundation was still young, and audiences were few and far between thus far. A fair number of these petitions came from nobles and merchants asking for the security of trade routes, or else a revered mother of the Chantry would come to ask for Aloisia’s opinion on one controversial verse or another from the Chant of Light.  There were also plenty of smaller and humbler requests that were far easier to fulfill, but these rarely made it to Aloisia's personal attention. Troop movements required consultation with Cullen on which units were ready and able to be deployed and to where, while matters of faith often required the guiding hand of Leliana or Josephine, her spymaster and her ambassador able to clarify nuances and context that Aloisia might miss on her own. As much as she tried her best to avoid religious decisions, Aloisia still made a point of studying the Chant of Light in preparation of the inevitable decisions that she would have to make sooner or later.

Just off to the side of the main hall, Josephine had set up a much more spacious workspace for herself than the tiny room that she had been saddled with in Haven, and just beyond was a sizeable space that served as a much better war room, with chairs being far easier to fit inside without rubbing up against a wall, with large and thick doors to ensure privacy. There was still some masonry that needed to be done in the area connecting Josephine’s work space to the war room, but if the cold bothered Josephine, she did not let it show. More importantly, the war room itself was entirely secure and intact, not to mention it was surprisingly comfortable.  It always seemed to be just the right temperature, and there had been a lot of speculation from all around about magic being involved in Skyhold's construction.

For the moment, however, there was another meeting going on, and Aloisia hoped that it would come to an end soon, if only so that she could finally take a bath and get some sleep. Among Skyhold’s many comforts was a private room for Aloisia herself, and while the methods for bathing were primitive compared to what she was used to, it was a great deal better than a dip in the icy waters near Haven. But for now, there were matters of duty to attend to.

“All right, people,” Aloisia said, holding herself up with both hands placed firmly upon the war table. “What other business do we have for the day? Please, let's hold off on anything that can wait until tomorrow, if you think it can be helped.”

“Very well, Lady Steward,” Josephine said. No matter that these meetings were private, Josephine always insisted on all due propriety as a matter of principle. “One of the Foundation’s remaining Templars – Maxwell of House Trevelyan of Ostwick – has come forward with word from his family. The Trevelyans have long been outspoken supporters of the Chantry and, more directly, the Templar Order. While they are not unsympathetic to the Foundation’s message of the common good, the family is not as united regarding your attitude towards the future of the Templars. More specifically, they are divided about the lack of Templars in your vision of tomorrow.  Maxwell fears that his relatives may do harm to themselves and to the people of Ostwick if these feelings are left to grow and to fester.”

Aloisia sighed, anticipating a hotly-contested argument over how best to handle this situation, just as they did every single one. It was rare when one of her advisors recognized that they did not have the knowledge or resources to handle every single problem. For her part, Aloisia remembered Maxwell Trevelyan as a deeply pious man alternating between helping Josephine with maintaining noble connections and training his body to serve in the Inquisition’s armies, now the Foundation's armies.

“Before you all jump in with your thoughts,” Aloisia said, “let me speak first. Leliana, do you honestly think that an assassination or a well-placed insinuation will heal these wounds? Cullen, do you think marching soldiers into Ostwick will calm tensions?”

Cullen had the decency to look ashamed before shaking his head silently. Leliana stared down Aloisia for a few moments before turning to Josephine. “How would you handle this, Josie?” she asked.

“Oh! Well,” Josephine said, seeming a bit embarrassed at being put on the spot. “I believe that if Maxwell were to personally go to placate his family, it would help to keep tempers from flaring as he clarifies the Foundation's ideals with a first-person perspective. Perhaps sending another few Templars sympathetic to the Steward’s views would not go amiss either. And of course, we will have at least one of our allies among the nobility pay a visit to the Trevelyans to coincide with Maxwell's visit.  They will be able to serve as mediators in the event that there is a loss in translation of sorts in explaining things from a Templar to his noble family.”

“I cannot fault that plan, Lady Steward,” Leliana said rather stiffly to Aloisia. Leliana had been acting rather temperamental ever since Aloisia had changed the name of their group. Though Leliana refused to admit it aloud, Aloisia suspected it had to do with the Inquisition itself being Divine Justinia’s last wish. Cassandra had been worked up about it as well, but she had since calmed down. The seeker had also recognized that she was more of a soldier than a true advisor, and while Aloisia thought that Cassandra was selling herself short, she had nonetheless relieved Cassandra from her duties at the war table.

“Very well,” Aloisia said. “That's one more matter solved. What’s next?”

“If I may, Lady Steward?” Leliana asked. Again, so formal. No matter what the occasion, Leliana had not once addressed Aloisia’s by name since the restructuring into the Foundation. Perhaps it was more than just the end of the Inquisition?

“Go ahead, Leliana,” Aloisia said, making sure to be familiar with all of her advisors, but especially Leliana for the time being.

Leliana folded her hands behind her back before speaking. “The Iron Bull has passed on a report from his Ben-Hassrath contacts about a potential opportunity in Lydes. The duchy is in the middle of a succession crisis after the death of Duke Remache. Lines of succession in Orlais can be… Let us simply say that they are complicated, and there are three potential successors with the standing to claim the duchy.”

“And you think that if we play a hand in installing said successor, then we might gain an ally in Orlais?” Aloisia asked.

“Yes, exactly. And with the right approach, the other two candidates can be removed from the equation entirely. And to be clear, I do not necessarily mean assassination,” Leliana added quickly. “Monette, for example, has been largely kept away from the Great Game, spending most of her life in service to the Chantry. She would be easily-manipulated were she to inherit her father’s seat, but we would not be the only ones attempting to sway her. Encouraging her to make her vows more permanent would be ideal for us, for Lydes, for Monette, and for the Chantry.”

Aloisia nodded as the Ben-Hassrath report was passed around the table to her, and its contents backed up Leliana’s words. “Very well. What of the other two candidates? Caralina and Jean-Gaspard? What would you recommend?”

“If I may, Lady Steward?” Josephine interjected. Aloisia gave a simple nod of her head to urge her to continue. “Lady Caralina is already a duchess by marriage, and while her claim might seem at first to be the strongest, she is more interested in her own standing in the Game than she is in actually ruling. The duchy is a trophy for her, and little else. She might remember the Foundation fondly, but the people might not fare as well, which could be harmful in the long term.”

“All the same,” Cullen said, “I would hesitate to put Jean-Gaspard into such a position of power. I know of him. He is a chevalier of no small skill, and a cunning military leader. But the same ambition that saw him rise through the ranks of the Orlesian military might also lead to the pursuit of greater heights should he come to rule, and he would rise to such heights on the backs of the people, no doubt.  Military experience does not necessarily lead to good leadership.”

No doubt Cullen was thinking of Meredith Stannard with that remark, Aloisia thought as she took a deep breath. “So, we have a woman unprepared for ruling, we have a woman who wants to rule in name but not in practice, and a man whose skills are more martial than political," she said in summation. "I think that Caralina would be the best of these to install, if only because she wants it the most, and her gratitude would be all the greater. More than that, if she is uninterested in the day to day aspects of governing, can we quietly install some advisors and ministers that can ensure the well-being of the people of Lydes while maintaining the Foundation’s interests as well?”

“I believe that can be done, my Lady,” Leliana said. “Josie, if we work together, do you think we could make it work so that we can send some capable advisors as a gesture of goodwill?  Duchess Caralina takes the credit in the Game while our people rule in practice.  Do you think it could work?”

“Yes, I think so,” Josephine said, though her voice trembled ever so slightly, betraying her hesitancy. “And what of Jean-Gaspard?”

“You say he’s a chevalier of no small talent, Cullen? The Civil War in Orlais would see him pick one side over the other, and damn the common people. Can we appeal to his pride as a chevalier and convince him that he could do more good as a leader of the Foundation’s forces in Orlais? He’d know the land and its people, and if he could be persuaded to join our cause, then he would be another way to solidify relations between the Foundation and the new Duchess of Lydes.”

“That… That might work,” Cullen said. “Yes, I think I know just the right people to send to appeal to him. Perhaps at a tourney, we can send a champion among our forces who has been out there and seen the chaos firsthand to convince him that our cause is a worthy one.”

“Very well, then,” Aloisia said. “Leliana, Josephine: do either of you have any objections? Any better ideas for how to handle this situation?”

Josephine and Leliana looked to each other briefly, not saying a word, before Leliana broke eye contact. “I think this course of action is the best possible for all parties.”

“Excellent! Move the matter forward at your leisure, then,” Aloisia said. “Is there anything else?” She hoped not. The day had gone on for too long already.

“Just one thing,” Cullen said, and Aloisia bit back a groan. “If you recall, we sent the Bull’s Chargers out to investigate the ruins of Haven? We were hoping to see if we could salvage anything, or perhaps find survivors who might have been left behind.”

Aloisia nodded. “I remember. Josephine, you arranged to have some Fereldan troops accompany them, yes?”

“Indeed, my lady,” Josephine said. “Arl Teagan lent us a small contingent of soldiers to aid the Chargers. He needed no prompting to show his gratitude for what you did for Redcliffe. I would not abuse that gratitude, however, nor allow the Foundation to grow too dependent on it.”

“Thank you, Josephine,” Aloisia said before turning back to her military advisor. “What of the Chargers and their Fereldan escorts, Cullen? Any news?”

“None, and that’s what worries me,” Cullen said. “They should have been back by now, even accounting for a number of minor delays on the road. I fear that something may be amiss with them, wherever they are. As for what to do about it, I’m hesitant to risk more troops on what amounts to a number of unknowns. It could be anything, or any number of things.”

“I could have my agents do a sweep of the area,” Leliana offered. “If nothing else, they will keep out of sight to avoid any traps that may have been set.”

“Or, it could be demons or some magic that your agents might have no defense against,” Aloisia said. “Leliana, get ready to pick agents to send on a scouting mission. But I want this to be reconnaissance only, not search and rescue. I want to know what we’re up against before I commit too much to this. And just begin the preparations for now. I want to sleep on this before I decide anything for certain.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Leliana said. “I believe that is all that is absolutely necessary for now. There are a few minor things, but they can wait until tomorrow.”

Aloisia smiled and stretched her arms, a yawn escaping her mouth. “Excellent. Now that that’s done with-“

A knock at the war room door interrupted Aloisia’s thoughts of rest and relaxation. She immediately turned to her advisors. “Nobody is supposed to interrupt us unless it absolutely cannot wait, correct?”

“Just so,” Leliana said as her eyes narrowed. “It seems as though we have one matter of business left.”

“Very well,” Aloisia said as she walked over and opened the door. Scout Harding was waiting on the other side.

“Your Worship,” Harding said with widened eyes. “I’m so sorry for the interruption!”

“At ease, Scout Harding,” Aloisia said. “And please, less of the ‘your worship’ with me. I’m just a mortal woman, the same as you.”

Harding nodded. “As you say, Your… I mean, Lady Steward. But I thought you’d want to know immediately. Tanya, the smith’s apprentice who gave us the early warning in Haven… She just appeared at Skyhold's main gate and surrendered herself into our custody. She asked to speak with you, and she seemed to think you’d want to grant her an audience.  'Immediately,' was her anticipation of your answer.”

“She came back?!” Leliana almost shouted. “And she just surrendered at the first chance?”

“Yes, Sister Nightingale,” Harding said. “We have her manacled and under guard for the time being. I thought I’d ask you before putting her in a cell, Your- Lady Steward.”

“You did well,” Aloisia said, smiling and feeling a bit rejuvenated at the chance to possibly greet an old friend, assuming Tanya was who she thought she was. “Is this the same woman who made you your suit of armor?”

“She is, my lady,” Harding confirmed. “All the same, she didn’t act like she was in any danger. To look at her, you’d think she’s exactly where she wants to be. Something feels very off about this, Lady Steward.”

“I’ll take that under advisement. Have her brought before the bench immediately. You and she are both right about the urgency of this matter, Scout Harding.  Which means that I'll have to see if I can fit in one more audience before I turn in for the evening. Perhaps my advisors would like to attend as well?” Aloisia said, more of a command than a request.

“As you wish, my lady,” Harding said before scurrying away to make preparations.

“You cannot be serious,” Cullen said once Aloisia closed the door. “We know nothing about this woman, who clearly knows far more, and probably is far more than we ever suspected.”

“And we will not know what she is unless we ask her,” Aloisia said with a genuinely happy smile. “Thankfully, she’s made herself available to us. If you feel the need to secure the chamber, then by all means, do so. I’ll be making my way to the bench.”

As Aloisia walked over towards the main hall, she reflected on the nature of where she held audiences. It was easier to simply take a seat if Aloisia could think of it as ‘the bench’ instead of labeling it anything resembling a throne. In the Republic, ‘approaching the bench’ was a judiciary term meaning that legal counsel would personally confer with a judge, so that context made it feel just a bit less threatening to Aloisia. Being an arbiter of disputes was much better than being a ruler of any sort, and she tried very hard not to think about how the two concepts often went hand-in-hand.

As Aloisia sat down on the smoothened surface of the simple, brown block of wood, she noticed soldiers rushing to take their posts. Leliana undoubtedly had agents moving into position, while Josephine simply stood at the ready with her clipboard, a fresh candle installed to light her way.

Cullen and Leliana reappeared at her flanks just as a side door opened, and out walked six armed and armored guards surrounding a plainly clothed, unarmored woman of average height. Her skin was olive-hued, her eyes as blue as the waters of Manaan, but her dark brown hair nearly caused Aloisia to recoil, for it was in the same style and length that was so incredibly familiar framing her beloved Lana’s face. Despite the woman's wrists and ankles being shackled, she walked with apparent ease until she stood before Aloisia, head held high and readily meeting her gaze.

“You are Tanya, I take it?” Aloisia said. “You are the smith’s apprentice who gave the people of Haven early warning that they might escape to safety?”

“I am, my lady,” Tanya said, her quiet, musical voice betraying neither pride nor humility. “It is an honor to meet you at last.”

“The honor is all mine,” Aloisia said quietly. “Which is strange, since I had made it a point to know every face in Haven. When I heard of a new smith’s apprentice, I sought you out. For the life of me, however, I could not find you.”

Tanya shrugged mildly. “I’ve been told that I’m sometimes overlooked by honest mistake, my lady. I apologize if I’ve given offense.”

One of the guards stepped forward and saluted. “My lady, the prisoner had this case on her person when we apprehended her. Strapped to her back, it was,” he said as he placed a sealed wooden trunk down on the floor before her.

“A gift for you, Lady Steward,” Tanya said, her voice betraying no emotion. “It is my wish to see your work furthered and seen through to its completion. To that end, I thought to bring three gifts as gestures of good faith. To be honest, I was afraid that I would be met with some suspicion after disappearing just before the attack on Haven. I am grateful to see that this is not the case.”

Aloisia had to bite back a laugh at the outright lie that was voiced for all to hear in such a matter-of-fact manner. “Very well,” Aloisia said, unable to suppress a grin. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one. Step back from the crate, everyone,” she ordered.

After a few seconds for her people to give the crate a berth of sorts, Aloisia reached out with the Force to undo the lock and open the crate. Inside was something she’d long wanted for her troops, but as far as she knew, it had been one of a kind up until this very moment. “Where did you get that marvelous crossbow, Tanya?”

“I made it, my lady,” she answered. “I was inspired when I saw Master Tethras’s weapon, but I couldn’t very well ask him to disassemble it for my sake. It might not have worked when I put it back together, assuming I'd have been able to do so at all. Thankfully, I was able to observe it well enough to figure out how to reconstruct it, and there are more where this came from, now that I've got a working set of schematics. Just think of the advantage it would give your armies, my lady. An oncoming hoard of darkspawn could be brought low by enough soldiers firing bolt after bolt in rapid succession, all at once. The high rate of fire makes accuracy a less pressing issue than it would with a standard bow or crossbow, and it takes a long time before it needs to reload, ensuring a sustainable rate of fire. You know this from watching Master Tethras at work, or course, but think of what you could do with an arsenal of such weapons, with squads of men and women using these in tandem.”

Replicating Bianca had been something that Aloisia had desired since she had first laid eyes upon the weapon, and now it had become a reality. All the same, her advisors would not trust that this example here in front of them was not booby trapped. “If you want to provide these weapons, then we will need assurances that your work is not faulty," Aloisia said, maintaining as regal and detached a voice as possible. "You will construct one such repeating crossbow from scratch, under guard, and you will personally test it before we take any unnecessary risks. You’ll forgive my caution, because while I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I have to tell you that some of my advisors might be a little bit wary of you.  Honestly, though, I can't imagine why.”

“Really?” Tanya said, her eyes widening ever so slightly before she bowed her head. “I am so very sorry for any inconvenience or anxiety I may have caused anyone.”

“I’m sure you are,” Aloisia said with a smile, reveling in the shared lie at her advisors' expense. “You said you had three gifts. I see one before me. What are the others?”

“I offer a gift of knowledge,” Tanya said, her eyes never leaving Aloisia’s own. “I have come to understand that you have sent men and women to scout what is left of Haven. Alas, your people have been detained by a band of Avvar, who are holding them captive in the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Their leader believes that the claims to your divinity, my lady, are a sign of you claiming to be a champion of one of their gods, and so he wishes to fight you as a test of which god’s blessing is the strongest. After taking your people hostage - both yours and Arl Teagan's I should say - he set two of your men free to bear you word of his challenge, fearing that one meager lowlander would not survive the journey alone. His words, not mine. You can wait for your own messengers to bring you word as confirmation, but this Avvar man strikes me as neither smart nor patient.”

“He doesn’t, does he?” Cullen said, crossing his arms and glaring at the woman in chains. “And how does a mere smith’s apprentice gain such intimate knowledge of the man who holds our people captive?”

“By observing him, Commander Cullen. Discreetly, of course,” Tanya said, a small smile crossing her lips as she showed some emotion at last. “And for my final gift, I bring an offer for you, Lady Steward. I have come into possession of an enchanted item that will allow you to travel to the Temple of Sacred Ashes – and to return here – in mere minutes. I believe that you are more than capable of defeating these Avvar on your own, my lady, and if you agree, I will take you to them at once.  The only condition on this particular gift is that you come alone, Steward Kallig.”

“You are in no position to set any such conditions,” Leliana hissed.

Tanya sighed, letting her mask of servility slip away entirely. “Sister Nightingale, let me be frank. Your forces did not capture me because I would never let myself be captured by them. I surrendered myself to you of my own free will, and should I feel threatened, I am entirely confident that I can leave at any time, and none the worse for wear. You are suspicious of me because I am an unknown variable, outside of your control. If I wished you harm, however, I could simply have left you to Corypheus's army when I heard them advancing on Haven. Instead, I made the conscious choice to warn you and then to make my way to safety so that I could return and serve Lady Kallig once more when circumstances allowed. Those circumstances have finally come, and I stand before you now, willing to be a part of this Foundation if you will simply allow me to do so.”

Leliana scoffed. “You are certainly no smith’s apprentice. Just what are you, Miss Tanya?” she demanded.

Tanya merely shrugged, her face nearly expressionless. “I am many things, Sister Nightingale. One of these things is a smith of no small talent. I am also a capable scout, able to go silent and unseen should I choose. I am skilled with languages and deciphering codes. I am also able to travel across the land with speed thanks to the enchanted object I mentioned earlier, though I do not trust that boon to anyone besides the Steward of the Foundation. I have many other skills that I offer to you willingly, Lady Kallig, should you choose to accept my services.”

Aloisia had her hopes, but she had to confirm them. “You say you have many skills, Tanya. Are you at all skilled with the art of disguise? If so, would you have ever seen me before today? And if so, then where?”

Tanya smiled a full-on grin that stretched from one ear to the other. “The tales of your wisdom do not do you justice, my lady. I was fascinated by your armor the first time I saw it. I was not as you see me now, but we were on a small ferry years ago together. The captain had a flair for the dramatic, and he named his humble ferry the Black Talon. Maybe he had dreams of being a famous pirate, but whatever the reason, the name stood out to me. Do you recall that ride?”

And there was confirmation. The Black Talon had been a passenger shuttle that had ferried Aloisia from Vaiken Spacedock to Dromund Kaas for her very first visit to the capital world of the Sith Empire. Not everyone aboard that ship had survived the trip, and who could say how many of those who had survived had perished in the war with Zakuul? If there was anyone who could survive – anyone that Aloisia knew for a fact was a survivor – was the ally and the friend that she had made on that trip. Tanya was the former Imperial agent known to the Empire, to the Republic, and to the galactic underworld as Cipher Nine.  She was known to her crewmates and acquaintances as Aratania, and to only her very closest friends as Ilara. The last was her core name as a member of the Chiss species, and it contained a trace amount of her extended family name that she had long since discarded. Using it at all would be taboo among her own people, and trusting a core name to anyone at all was a sign of the deepest trust and respect.

Aloisia smiled in return. “I do recall that trip quite vividly. I also recall a woman about your height asking about my armor. She did not share your current appearance, and I don’t recall her voice. Was that you, by any chance?”

“Guilty as charged, on that one count,” Ilara said. “Now if you don’t mind, Aloisia, I really think we should be on our way sooner rather than later.”

“Miss Tanya,” Josephine chided, her voice deepening. “While I am certain the Steward appreciates your gifts, I do not believe it prudent for you to address her with such familiarity.”

“I’m sorry, Ambassador Montilyet,” Aloisia said as she turned her no-longer smiling face to look at Josephine. “Do you believe I am incapable of speaking for myself on this matter?” Aloisia didn’t bother to let Josephine flounder about in discomfort. “It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you know where my people are, Miss Tanya, and that they are in need of rescue. Now, let me save my advisors the sight of you escaping from your shackles on your own.”

With a gesture, Aloisia tugged on the Force and Ilara’s bindings fell to the floor, freeing her arms and legs. Aloisia rose to her feet and moved to meet her old friend. “I will handle this matter personally, Ambassador Montilyet, and I will do it now. Sister Nightingale, Commander Cullen, do not try to follow us. If you do, I can’t guarantee that Miss Tanya here won’t take action to protect herself. She saved all of our lives once, and that has earned her my trust. Should we return with our missing people, then we will discuss her place in the Foundation.”

Cullen was moving down to meet her. “My lady, you cannot-“

“Commander Cullen Stanton Rutherford!” Aloisia snapped. “You do not have the privilege to tell me what I may or may not do, and you do not have the knowledge to tell me what I can and cannot do. Take care of Skyhold while I am away. I should be back within hours if not sooner. If a full day should pass, then you may have leave to worry. Now if you’ll excuse me, our people are in need of my help. Tanya, please lead the way,” she said as she stood up and descended the steps from the bench towards her good friend.

“As you wish, my lady,” Ilara said as the two women walked side by side out of the main hall, down the staircase into the courtyard, and then out the main gates to leave Skyhold behind as people looked on and wondered just where the Steward of the Foundation could be going at this hour.

Shortly after exiting Skyhold entirely, Ilara led Aloisia down a winding path through the rocky hills surrounding the ancient keep. “Don’t tell me you’ve already gone ahead and scouted out blind spots in our lookout posts?” Aloisia asked, though she couldn’t keep the smile from her face.

Ilara just let out a snort of laughter. “Of course, I have. But now you have someone watching those blind spots, so it should all be good. I’ve also set up some other precautions a bit further out in case you need another advanced warning. I could hardly leave the Steward of the Foundation of Fellowship and her headquarters vulnerable in any way, now could I?”

“I appreciate the thought, Miss Tanya,” Aloisia said, not willing to risk blowing Ilara’s cover until they were completely assured of their privacy.

The unmarked path wound its way for a while longer until they emerged into a clearing of tree stumps, presumably what was left after logging efforts to patch up the holes in parts of Skyhold’s construction, as well as materials for building new facilities.

The two women walked up the far side of the clearing, just on the edge of a significantly larger area of deforested woodlands, before Ilara held up one closed fist in a military 'halt' hand sign. “Hold here,” she said quietly, and Aloisia trusted her enough to do as she said. Ilara tapped the fingers of her right hand on her left wrist.  To the untrained eye, she was tapping against simple cloth, but Aloisia would wager that there was a wrist pad of some sort just waiting for input. “All right, we’re clear. Follow me,” Ilara said.

After a few steps forward, the forest had entirely disappeared, and what had moments ago been a deforested clearing was revealed to have a lot more contained within than mere tree stumps. Parked within what had to be some sort of cloaking field was the flying silver knife known to be a sign from the Maker to most, but in truth was Ilara’s personal ship: the Phantom. Technically, it was a Phantom-class prototype, but Ilara had insisted on registering the name itself for her ship as a point of pride, as best as Aloisia could recall.

The landing ramp was already lowered, and a tall, muscular man with a bald head, tanned skin, and dressed in leather armor stood at attention. Aloisia did not recognize him, but his weapon did catch her eye. It looked like a standard crossbow, held in both hands as if ready to be used, but the tip was adorned with a magenta-colored crystal, and Aloisia could see no bolts loaded into the weapon, nor any pouch on the man's person for any crossbow bolts at all.

“Inside, everyone,” Ilara said. “Once we do a sweep, we’ll talk freely.” The unknown man nodded silently before ascending into the ship, followed by Ilara and Aloisia.

As she stepped through the open door into the ship, Aloisia felt a warm ache in her chest that she instantly recognized as homesickness.  In spite of finally seeing trappings of civilization all around her - electric lights, contemporary furniture, aurebesh lettering - it only made Aloisia feel further away from anything resembling 'home' than she had felt since she'd first landed on this primitive world.

“Come with me,” Ilara said, gesturing to Aloisia and their silent companion to follow her to a small meeting room. Aloisia sat down at the nearest chair, taking a moment to quietly bask in the familiarity of Imperial furnishings and design. Still in her guise as Tanya, Ilara turned on what had to be a ship-wide intercom. “All hands, report to the briefing room. The commander is aboard, so come and say hello.”

Ilara and the man with the crystal-tipped crossbow remained standing as six more unfamiliar faces joined them one by one and sat down at the table next to and across from Aloisia. All of them appeared to be humans dressed in Thedosian garb, and they numbered three men and three women. The three women all seemed to be younger than their male counterparts, and they were all dressed for different roles. Two of the women looked to have martial training, and another looked to be a monk. All three men wore scholarly clothing.

“Thank you for joining us, everyone,” Ilara said, a smile in her voice. “Are we safe from any intrusion, Lieutenant?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the youngest of the women answered. “We’re all clear.”

“Excellent,” Ilara said. “Now, I think we’ve kept the commander waiting long enough, so let’s drop the disguises, shall we?”

The assembled people all touched a hand to some invisible device on their wrists, and the flicker of holograms deactivating revealed a number of familiar faces, and Aloisia could feel her eyes widening in joy as her mouth turned upwards in an ear-spanning grin. “Force, is it good to see you all here!”

Ilara had gathered seven crewmates aside from herself, and Aloisia turned from one face to the other to her side to greet them in turn. “Talos Drellik, my old friend!” She had first met the Imperial archaeologist on Hoth, and he had been a true companion who lived for scientific and historical discovery. “Doctor Lokin,” Aloisia greeted cautiously. The brilliant former Imperial spy and scientist might be aging, but he was not someone Aloisia wanted as an enemy, if only for his dangerous research and experimentation involving the Rakghoul plague. Ilara had implied, though never outright confirmed, that Lokin had even experimented on himself with the Rakghoul plague. “Master Ranos,” Aloisia said, acknowledging the Chiss Jedi Master with a polite nod of her head. Force-sensitive chiss were rare, and chiss outside of their own territory and not working for the Empire were even rarer.  And Aloisia had never heard of a chiss Jedi - let alone a Jedi Master - until she'd met Dazh Ranos.

Aloisia turned to the three individuals seated across the table from her. “Lieutenant Temple. A pleasure as always.” Raina Temple had been one of Ilara’s crew, though her loyalties were strangely mixed between the Sith Empire, the Alliance, and the Chiss Ascendancy. The chiss did not employ those without talent and skill, and they almost never recruited from outside of their own kind. That a human had become their liaison to the Alliance spoke volumes about the lieutenant.

“Sana-Rae. While it's always good to see you, it is rarely without purpose. Have you had a vision? I can think of very few reasons for you to leave Odessen, save for returning home to Voss. Are you well?” Voss of any stripe almost never left their homeworld, and Sana-Rae’s vision of her own departure had required several interpretations to determine the truth of what her course of action had needed to be. The voss followed the visions of their Mystics religiously, and it had served their society well for the most part.

“I am well, commander.  And I have seen you in my visions, and they have guided me here,” she answered, her voice reverberating like an echo as all voss voices did. “I saw those assembled here come to this world that we might give you aid. The interpreters could not decide which roles each of us will each play, or when we will play these roles, or even if every one of us here will be truly needed by the end.  Yet the interpreters saw possibilities, and we are all here to meet those possibilities.  There is more to my visions, but now is not the time for you to hear it.  When the time is right, I will seek you out, commander, and I will tell you more of what I have seen."

“I understand,” Aloisia said, feeling a touch ill at ease.  The nature of voss prophecies was such that they always came to pass, but the voss as a society made sure to take every possible step in order to bring their mystics' visions to fruition.  Were their prophecies self-fulfilling, were they false, or were they something more?  It was a mystery that Aloisia had spent many hours debating at length with Lana and with others in the Force enclave back on Odessen, to which Sana-Rae thankfully took no offense.  Indeed, Sana-Rae had encouraged such discussions as an exercise for expanding the minds of those who came to learn.

Aloisia next turned elderly human man who looked vaguely familiar, but she could not recall exactly who he was. “I’m afraid I must beg your pardon, sir. I am sure that we have met, but my memory seems to be failing me.”

The old man chuckled jovially and waved his left hand, as if to dismiss her concerns. “Oh, I was but one of your many servants when you still sat upon the Dark Council as Darth Imperius. I am Lord Veijel. We met on Rishi, if you recall, where my research of many years led me to receive communications from within the Rishi Maze. Those communications sought out you, specifically, and may have contained the secret to immortality. I now believe that those transmissions originated from this very world, though I have yet to find any conclusive evidence. Lieutenant Drellik has been a most welcome aid in helping to interpret the mysteries of these signals.”

"Well, thank you both for all that you've done," Aloisia said, feeling uneasy at the notion of immortality.  She would not be another Sith Emperor.  Finally, there were the two figures who were still standing, and Aloisia rose to greet them. Gone was the man wielding a crystal-tipped crossbow, and in his place was a familiar friend, his blaster rifle tucked safely into its harness on his back. “HK-55! Stars, is it good to see you!”

“Celebration: It is truly a joy to be reunited with you, Lord Kallig!” the gold-colored combat droid announced, and Aloisia's heart soared as she was once again addressed by a proper, gender-neutral title in spirit. In Thedas, it might be a male title, but hearing HK address her as 'lord' made her feel back at home in civilized company. “Addendum: Before our travels here, Mistress Aratania was able to access my programming to amend the protocols that require that I address you as ‘Master.’ Disclosure: She believed that the title caused you a great manner of discomfort, and I would be a poor bodyguard droid, indeed, if I could not ensure your emotional well-being as well as your physical safety.”

Lastly was the woman herself, the captain of this ship, who had brought them all together. Aloisia rose to her feet and gawked at the sight of her friend.  “Ilara. This… I don’t know what to say, but I never expected all of this. How did you even find me? What’s happened to the Alliance? How does the war go for either side?”

Gone was the guise of Tanya, and in her place was Aloisia’s old friend. The hair was the same style, but jet black, and she could no longer be mistaken for human with her blue skin and glowing red eyes. Ilara and Master Ranos looked alike in only the most superficial of ways, just as humans must all look alike to the chiss. “I know you have many questions, but I’m afraid they may have to wait,” Ilara said, her voice thankfully back to its normal crisp tone, Imperial accent firmly in place. “I wasn’t lying about your people being in danger. I have a plan to exfiltrate them, but you’ll need to play your part as well. Leader of the Foundation and such. Once they’re safe, we can set up a more permanent solution so that we can be at your beck and call. I’m hoping that this gesture of mine will earn me some credit with the Foundation.”

“I’ll make sure you’re cleared to be among my top advisors,” Aloisia said. “I’ve been in sore need of someone like you, Ilara. Someone who understands what it’s like to know how much is out there. Someone else who knows that this planet isn’t truly home.”

“What about Lana?” Ilara asked. “If you’re wondering how much I know, while you were in Haven, I was able to sneak about and slip a listening device into your wrist-comm, and Leliana’s as well. “I’ve been recording everything you both do so I know how best to help you. And when you traveled into the future of all things, I heard Lana take over your body. So, she’s dead, but her spirit is bound to you, yes? Why can you not consult with her about such things? Or are you still angry with her? Then again, would you have agreed to bind her spirit to you if you were so upset?”

Aloisia gave Ilara a look of utter bewilderment. “Why would I be angry with Lana? Lana, is there a reason I should be angry with you?”

Before Lana could reply, Ilara sighed loudly. “She never told you. All right, everybody give us some privacy. HK, stand guard outside. Nobody comes in until we walk out.”

“Acknowledgement: None shall escape my vigil, Mistress Aratania,” HK said with his customary glee as he stood outside the door and waited for the others to file out.

Once they were alone, Ilara closed the door and leaned against a corner, putting her left foot up against the wall. “You might want to sit down, Aloisia. This isn’t going to be a happy thing for you to hear.”

Aloisia obediently took a seat and looked inward. “Lana, what is she talking about? Force, why won’t you answer me?!”

Ilara sighed and shook her head. “I’ve seen this kind of thing too often. Shame eats away at someone, and they keep waiting until ‘just the right moment’ to reveal the truth and offer apologies for what they've done. And then they keep putting it off until it becomes so much easier to just live with the lie. Letting it out becomes impossible, as every single thought only compounds the shame they feel. I told Lana that she had to come clean, that you would take it better if it came from her. For what it’s worth, I’m so sorry, Aloisia. As much as I want Lana to apologize, I was an accomplice in this wrongdoing, and I owe you just as much of an apology as she does. Well, maybe not quite as much, but almost.”

Aloisia closed her eyes and meditated, looking for some sign of Lana’s awareness of what was going on. Lana’s voice was silent, but Aloisia could sense tremors of terror roiling off of Lana’s spirit like tidal waves. Opening her eyes, Aloisia took a deep breath before looking Ilara straight in the eye. “Tell me what happened, Ilara,” she said.  Her voice was incredibly firm and most certainly not shaking.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of her own, Ilara moved away from the wall and took a seat directly across from Aloisia. “Do you recall my part in the Alliance after Suresh’s failed coup?”

Aloisia nodded. “Yes, I remember. Lana was in a state of panic. She was having flashbacks to Ziost, the need to be ‘everywhere at once,’ as she put it. She wanted a body double, and you were the woman for the job, yes?”

“That’s right,” Ilara said softly. “You have to understand, I only call her ‘Lana’ now that she’s gone. She was always ‘Minister Beniko’ to me when she was alive. First when she was in charge of Sith Intelligence, and then later as your spymaster for the Alliance. She might not like titles, but familiarity is a luxury that I can’t really spare much of in my line of work, and I’m grateful that I have it at all with you, Aloisia. I spent a great deal of time observing her, both before and during the war with Zakuul, and she came to me the night after you killed Suresh and recruited me to be her body double.”

Aloisia nodded silently, not seeing the problem just yet. “It makes sense. You’re more than capable of managing the base should Lana be absent, and you have the dedication to learn how to wield a lightsaber with just enough skill to fool most people. I’d guess you have some hardware that lets you shoot lightning out of your fingers as well. Was I ever in the same room as you when you were disguised as her? Did you ever fool me?”

Ilara hung her head, and Aloisia felt shame sink deep into her friend. “Around the base, only a few times in passing. I mostly took her face and voice when you were both absent from Odessen. But Lana wanted absolute certainty that I could make anyone believe that I was her, including you. She gave me a task, and she made it clear that it was not optional. I should have come to you straight away, I should have refused outright, but I didn’t. I was afraid of what she would do to me, but that’s no excuse for what I did to you on her behalf.”

Aloisia began to feel a familiar shiver of fear run up her spine. “Just tell me, already! What did you do, Ilara?!”

The spy looked away and closed her eyes for a moment, and then she returned her gaze to Aloisia, making sure to meet her eyes. “To ensure that I could make even you believe that I was Lana Beniko, I spent one full turn of Odessen as her. Starting in the war room in the middle of the morning, I carried out Lana’s duties, gave out orders, analyzed intelligence, and made nice with everyone I dealt with, including you. You were remarkably happy with Lana that day, and… You thought you made love to Lana Beniko that night, but it wasn’t her. She insisted that you would believe that I was her, so that you wouldn’t let anything slip without meaning to. I’m so, so sorry, Aloisia.”

Aloisia’s jaw was hanging open, her eyes wide, her mind racing. She couldn’t speak, could barely think. How was this possible? How could Lana of all people, knowing her as she did, betray her so utterly? “L-Lana,” she said, her voice shaking. “Please come out and look me in the eye. Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me you didn’t force my closest friend to use me in such a way. Tell me you didn’t violate me as she says you did! Get out here, Lana!” she shouted.

Finally, Lana’s spirit appeared off to the side, standing at the head of the table. She was rubbing her hands together as her head hung in shame. “I’m so sorry, Aloy. It’s all true. Every word. I can’t and won’t try to justify what I did. I just… I’m so sorry, my love.”

Aloisia closed her eyes as if to force back the tears that were threatening to burst out. “Get out of my sight, Lana,” she hissed. “Go back inside and stay put. Keep your words, your thoughts, your feelings… Keep it all to yourself. As much as I’m utterly furious with you, you’re still my wife. But I can’t deal with you, not right now, and maybe not for some time. I’ll tell you when I’m ready to face you again, but until then, stay the hell away from me, Lana Beniko!”

Lana said nothing at all as her spiritual visage faded and retreated deep into the core of Aloisia’s spirit and fell utterly silent. Aloisia didn’t feel as if she knew anything anymore. She wasn’t nearly as angry with Ilara as she had seemed to fear. Lana had abused them both, and Ilara had been an unwilling tool. And even if she wanted to be angry with her, Aloisia just felt spent.

“Um… How long to reach the hostages? And to make your… Your preparations, Ilara?” Aloisia managed to say.

“The preparations are ready, and I’ve scouted out a landing zone already, but I think we should wait before we head out into combat,” Ilara said. “The sun has set, and you looked exhausted even before you left Skyhold. Take my bed for the night, please, or at least a few hours. And if you need to talk about anything at all, I’m here for you.”

Aloisia sniffled and wiped tears away from her eyes as she stood up. “Okay.  That... That sounds good. I think I’m just going to get some rest. I don’t suppose you could have HK stand guard for me? There’s something to be said for a droid’s loyalty, especially when it goes beyond their core programming.”

“Of course, Aloisia. Come on, now. Let me help you to bed. Easy does it,” Ilara said as she took Aloisia by the hand and walked with her out of the meeting room. “HK, the Commander needs to rest, and she’d very much appreciate it if you could stand guard over her while she sleeps.”

“Dedication: Your rest shall be entirely undisturbed, Lord Kallig!” he proclaimed.

Aloisia smiled at the droid’s ability to be as cheerful as any protocol droid when the need arose, and as deadly as any other assassin droid in combat when called for. HK-55 was a well-rounded being, to be sure. Before she knew it, Ilara had guided her to a simple bed that for all its military design was still far more comfortable and familiar than anything on Thedas.

“Rest well, Aloisia. And don’t be afraid to let out those tears. I’ve seen too many people bottle up their emotions until they couldn’t handle it anymore,” Ilara said. “Let your feelings out in privacy and safety. We won’t go anywhere without you, I promise. Take care of yourself, my friend.”

“Thank you, Ilara,” Aloisia said as the door closed, separating HK-55 from the now-enclosed space that was Ilara’s personal chamber. Not waiting a moment longer, Aloisia hastily removed her armor and let it fall haphazardly to the floor before she clambered into bed and pulled the covers over her body.

And then Aloisia openly wept as the full weight of Lana’s betrayal finally hit her. You were all I had, Lana, and now you’ve done what you swore you’d never do. You said we’d always be together, but you’ve left me more alone than I’ve ever been. Damn you, Lana Beniko. Damn you to the furthest depths of the void, you traitor!

Aloisia lulled herself to sleep with curses against Lana in the futile attempt to convince herself that she didn’t still love her wife in spite of everything. As she fell asleep, Aloisia realized too late that without her usual proper guidance, she’d be vulnerable to all manner of demons in the Fade, and she knew that they’d be wearing Lana’s face.

In her last moments of semi-consciousness, a distant trace of memory came to Aloisia. It was the memory of sobbing her heart out into the lap of a woman she could no longer deny she truly cared for.

“Leliana…”

~~Ar'atania~~

Being a spy - particularly an infiltrator - carried many dangerous risks, but none were more horrible or insidious than the potential loss of one's own identity.  Born as Boadil'ar'atania, the agent formerly known as Cipher Nine had been forced to surrender the first third of her birth name when called to higher service, only to then adjust that name even further to suit the needs of her alien Imperial employers, and then there were all of the various aliases and personae she'd assumed over the years as cover identities.  She was Aratania to almost everyone, and despite that she'd shed her extended family moniker of Boadil long ago to avoid the appearance of favoritism, Aloisia Kallig still called her Ilara, which began with the last phoneme of the name that she had forsaken.  It was a childish thing, to allow anyone to call her by her old core name, but it gave her a great deal of comfort all the same.  At her own, personal core, she had to continuously remind herself who she truly was.

To her deepest self, when the threat of losing her identity became too real, she reminded herself that she was Ar'atania, and that she was a deep cover operative for the Chiss Ascendancy.  Ar'atania had hired herself on to Imperial Intelligence as a way to assess how the Empire could serve the Ascendancy in the years to come, only for Ar'atania to find that the Sith Empire was an entirely corrupt organization that was doomed to collapse.  The castellan restraints the Empire had put on her mind, and the lack of apologies for their creation and use - at least until Aloisia had become Darth Imperius and put an end to the program - had forced her to reevaluate where she should direct her people's efforts.  Though she was now part of the Alliance led by Aloisia Kallig, she still kept up the guise of an Imperial agent, never letting anyone know that she had defected to the Galactic Republic years ago, shortly after Imperial Intelligence had been all but destroyed.

When her contact in the Republic, Jonas Balkar, alerted her to his government's betrayal of Aloisia - despite that the Alliance itself was working for the Republic in secret at Aloisia's behest - Ar'atania had been shocked and appalled.  When the time came that she would return to chiss space for good, she would probably recommend that the Ascendancy sever ties with the Empire as soon as was feasible and then resume their prior history of isolationism for the foreseeable future. Before that day, however, she had a friend to rescue and an Alliance to salvage. Aloisia Kallig and Lana Beniko had built the kind of organization that Ar'atania would love to recommend for her people to make allies of, if not for the fact that the Alliance lacked the numbers and firepower to stand alone against the Empire or the Republic.

With help from a few contacts in both the Alliance and in the Republic, Ar'atania had gathered a crew to seek out and find Commander Kallig before it was too late. Lieutenant Temple had been eager to rejoin her crew after they had lost touch during the war with Zakuul. Upon arriving in the system for the first time, Raina had been able to sense just how strong the Force was on this world from orbit, especially around a certain continent.  Raina Temple was not overly powerful in the Force, nor was she properly trained by any standard. Ar'atania didn't know how much potential Raina truly had, but for someone so lacking in the talent to be able to sense such power from so far away made the planet below seem far more threatening than a mere sensor scan could detail.

A return trip to Odessen had seen Ar'atania and her crew all go to see a Jedi Master who had joined the Alliance.  Once the Warden of the Jedi Order known formally as the Barsen'thor - a Togruta woman named Darkosha Tren - had heard of their dilemma, she had delved into her studies to further her understanding of a shielding ritual that she had learned in her early years in the Jedi Order.  Given that all signs pointed to no life on the planet resembling Togruta with their montrals that extended above and below their faces, Master Darkosha had taken the time to meditate with Master Dazh Ranos (and oh, did Ar'atania wonder where she had obtained that distinctly alien name), and the Chiss Jedi had joined them in Master Tren's stead in order to make sure that they could keep up their mental shields while remaining undercover thanks to camouflage technology repurposed from Ar'atania's own encounters with the Ghost Cell and the Star Cabal.

Once Ar'atania and her crew had returned to the planet and determined Aloisia's approximate location, they had cloaked the ship and set it down before setting up a camouflage screen surrounding the landing zone, and then Ar'atania and Raina had gone out to reconnoiter the area and get a feel for the terrain.  Ar'atania had needed to do some fast thinking when a number of people kept mistaking her for a woman known as Hawke, given that all accounts seemed to point to their voices sounded uncannily alike. A quick alteration to the vocal part of her disguise had fixed that problem, but Ar'atania would keep the name 'Marian Hawke' in mind should she ever hear her own voice from someone else. More than that, however, a bit of time in the southwestern parts of the nation of Ferelden gave Ar'atania and Raina some ideas about what to expect regarding certain matter specific to this planet. The Force shielding taught by Master Tren and carried out by Master Ranos had the effect of allowing them to dream without fear of being noticed, which was apparently a matter of no small concern to the people of this world.  Ar'atania knew very little about the Force and its mysteries, but even she understood that this world was remarkably abnormal.

After a few months had passed while Ar'atania and her crew continued to collect information, a gathering of some importance had been declared, and Ar'atania had parked her ship in a small nook in the mountains close to Haven.  And then Raina had almost fainted when a literal hole was ripped in the sky.  By the time the dust had settled, there was a holy Inquisition being declared, and Aloisia Kallig was naturally at the center of it all.  Ar'atania didn't like the idea of predestination or prophecy, but some people spoke of the alliance commander as if she had a destiny to fulfill.  At times like this, Ar'atania tended to come up short on counter arguments.

The next two months had seen Ar'atania make a few quick trips back to Odessen to gather a few more experts that now comprised her entire crew - intended to support Aloisia when the time was right, according to Sana-Rae's visions - and Ar'atania had done her best to infiltrate the Inquisition.  When it had become apparent that Aloisia was confiding in her new spymaster, and upon learning that Lana Beniko had died and was not serving in that capacity, Ar'atania had done some scouting and found out that Aloisia and this Leliana of hers each had a holo-communicator, both of which Ar'atania had carefully sliced so as to gather intelligence where she couldn't go herself.

Those efforts had paid off in spades when information came through of a trip to one possible future of all things.  As Tanya, a humble smith's apprentice, Ar'atania had been in a good position to gather intelligence and to be of some help with her own armor-crafting skills for the sake of Aloisia's people.  When her crew had contacted her with a warning of an approaching army, Ar'atania had passed it on before returning to the Phantom to provide Aloisia with some much needed air support.  As a secondary concern, it would make these superstitious primitives seem even more in awe of the 'Blade of the Maker' as Aloisia was now known.  The Phantom would seem to them to be divine intervention, or so she had hoped.

It had worked, and after using her ship to guide the refugees from Haven to the fortress that she had espied while scouting the mountains from the air, 'Tanya' had surrendered herself to the newly formed Foundation of Fellowship, and now she was here, wondering what to do about her closest friend after revealing Lana Beniko's betrayal to her. Ar'atania had given Aloisia two hours to herself, but she hadn't forgotten the now-Steward's words to her advisors: that she would be back in a matter of hours, and absolutely no longer than one day.  The sun had set, and the moons and the stars were clearly visible in the night sky.  They could at least get into position near the Temple of Sacred Ashes for when Aloisia was ready. Or, more likely, when Ar'atania had to wake her friend regardless of whether she was ready or not.

An order to Raina had the human woman take the helm, cloak the ship, and pilot it to the landing zone near what was left of the temple. The flight would only take a few minutes, but landing while staying both invisible and inaudible to the Avvar would take some care. Not that Ar'atania didn't have every confidence that Raina could handle it, but it was still something to keep in mind.  Soon enough, they were on their way.

Familiar footsteps caused Ar'atania to turn her head and nod at Master Ranos.  "Is everything all right?" she asked the Jedi.  "Is Aloisia all right?"

"The girl's emotions are all a mess.  They say the truth hurts, but some truths hurt more than others," Ranos said.  "That being said, we're coming up on where the barrier between this world and the Fade is the thinnest, and the Commander's in a bit of a state as it is.  Might want to wake her before we get too close.  I didn't get a chance to ask before, but I want her to know that I can shield her if she needs it.  Let her dream without worrying about spirits or demons or what have you."

Ar'atania nodded even as she felt a headache coming on.  "Stars, I should have thought of that.  I'm going to wake her now.  Please come with me.  If there's anything wrong with her - having to do with the Force, that is - you'll be able to help her far more than I ever could."

The two chiss women made for the captain's quarters and gestured for HK-55 to step aside, which he did so quietly so that they could knock on the door to give Aloisia a moment of warning, should she be awake.  Opening the door, Ar'atania stepped inside to find that Aloisia remained asleep. Ara'tania knew what she had to do, and she hated herself for it. When Lana Beniko had ordered Ar'atania to study her day in and day out to become her body double, she'd often been invisible while inside Aloisia's quarters to study how they interacted when the lovers were together. It was a horrible violation of privacy, and perhaps Ar'atania should have refused. After a certain time in the Empire, however, saying 'no' to a Sith Lord had become a difficult thing to do. So it was that Ar'atania knew how best to wake Aloisia with minimal fuss. Her body would hopefully reflexively recognize it as a comforting gesture, even if her mind was struggling with what Lana would do and what she had done.

Sitting down on the bed next to her friend, Ar'atania wiped away a stray lock of red hair away from Aloisia's face and let the back of her hand caress her friend's cheek, just like Lana would do to ease her wife awake.  "I'm sorry, Aloisia, but it's time to wake up," Ar'atania said, withdrawing her hand the moment she saw the telltale sign of eye movement slowing down, exiting REM sleep and moving towards the waking world.

Aloisia murmured softly under her breath, not so much in words as in grunts and moans as she opened her eyes and found herself awake.  "Ilara.  How long was I out?"

"Only a couple of hours, I'm afraid," Ar'atania said, truly sorry that she couldn't give her friend any more time. "You told your advisors that you'd only be a matter of hours.  I didn't want to worry them, and with the veil so thin where we're going..."

"I understand.  Thank you," Aloisia said as she sat up in the bed, prompting Ar'atania to rise to her feet to give her friend some room.

"If you'd like," Master Ranos said from behind, "the shielding technique I learned from Master Darkosha...  I could apply it to you.  Let you sleep without worrying about the impact you'll leave on the Fade."

"That's...  I'll have to think about it," Aloisia said as she stood up and began to don her armor again.  "For all its dangers, the Fade is truly remarkable.  Had events played out differently, this is the sort of thing I could dedicate my life to studying.  With all of that said, do you know this world's tale of the Black City?"

Ar'atania gave a nod of her head.  "Given that your enemy seems to be intimately tied to it, I read up as best I could," she said.  "What about it?"

"Well, when he confronted me, he was remembering his own time there.  Give me a hand with this, would you?" she asked, and Ar'atania moved to her side to help Aloisia fasten her breastplate properly.  "In the memory, I saw what he had seen in the Black City. There actually was a throne to be seen there. An Iokathi control throne, to be more specific."

Ar'atania swore in cheunh, and had she been back in the Ascendancy, such behavior would have been swiftly punished. "What do we do about it?" she asked.  If there was an Iokathi throne on this world, then chances were that Valkorion or one of his other incarnations were involved here in some form or another. True coincidences were rare, and in this specific area, Aloisia was the expert.

"I don't know yet," she admitted as she pulled on her boots, finally fully-armored. "But it's something to keep in mind. If you need additional help from Odessen, that should persuade them." Aloisia took a breath and refocused her gaze on Ar'atania. "You've no doubt scouted the area before coming to see me. What's the situation on the ground?"

"Your people are in a wooden cage - effective no matter how crude - and their weapons are in a padlocked chest within sight of them, but just out of reach. A simple demoralizing tactic, if a risky one. The Avvar are humans, but they're much larger and muscular than the 'civilized' people you've been dealing with. That being said, with the Avvar, what you see is what you get. They don't get caught up in power plays, at least not the way they do in Orlais or Tevinter. Their words can usually be taken at face value. The man in charge of taking your people captive is not very bright, as I told you back at Skyhold. The men supporting him are warriors without much in the way of brains.  I think I saw one of their shamans wandering around close to where you sealed the Breach.  He seemed more concerned with the Lady of the Skies - one of their gods - and her health than with anything to do with your people.  Look around the epicenter where you sealed the Breach, and you might find someone with both a bit of common sense and a willingness to find common ground."

"I see.  And the hostages?  How did you plan to get them all back to Skyhold without them seeing..." Aloisia asked as she gestured with one arm to the ship all around them.

"I'll accompany you, cloaked and silent," Ar'atania said.  "Once you deal with the Avvar, I've got a gas grenade with a sedative potent enough to knock out any given human, elf, or dwarf.  Don't know enough about Qunari physiology yet to say anything about them for sure.  Then we load them into the cargo lift, fly back to where we came from, let them out the same way, and you wake them up and lead them back to Skyhold.  Then I'll come and find you later on in another guise to be at your side. If you'll have me, that is? I thought you could use someone by your side who knows where you came from, who knows everything that's really out there. A link to home, if you will?"

Aloisia smiled and pulled Ar'atania into a warm embrace. It wasn't the first time she had done so, and while Ar'atania wasn't entirely comfortable with it, she knew that the comfort it gave to her friend outweighed any small annoyance on her part. "Thank you, Ilara," Aloisia said, her voice full of painful need. "Is there anything else you want to say before we get to work and I have to say goodbye again, if only for a time?"

"Just one thing," Ar'atania said carefully, knowing that she would be treading on thin ice.  "I know you feel hurt, and I've been listening, and I know that you and your spymaster have feelings that could lead from one thing to another.  I just want you to be careful, Aloisia. You've just been seriously hurt, and I don't want you to do anything you might regret, or anything that might make it harder for you to help this world. And no, I'm not about to pull you away from here and back to Odessen.  I've seen how attached you've gotten. Just be careful, please. You've already got one 'anchor' of sorts holding you here. I know that attachments can give you strength, but they can also be burdensome, if you aren't careful."

"You think I don't know that?!" Aloisia said, her voice rising. "After what you just revealed to me, you think I'm unaware?!" After a moment, Aloisia took a step back and let herself breathe for a bit. "I'm sorry. That... That was harsh of me. You're trying to look out for me, Ilara, and I may be more vulnerable than I care to admit. I can't afford that sort of vulnerability in my dreams. Master Ranos, if you could shield me as best you can, I'd appreciate it."

"Of course.  Follow me, and we can meditate before we perform the ritual itself," the Jedi said.

"Thank you," Aloisia said. "Thank you both. If nothing else, it's good to know that I'm not alone here. That I haven't been forgotten or abandoned."

"Remember that, when things seem hopeless," Ar'atania said. "It's served me well when despair threatens to take over."

Aloisia just huffed. "I don't have the luxury of allowing such things to threaten me, I'm afraid."

"They will, regardless," Ar'atania said. "Look, just... Until I get back to you, find someone you can talk with.  Someone you can be yourself with. Just... Be careful if you choose Leliana to be that someone. She could be good for you, or she could be something else."

The Alliance Commander - the Steward of the Foundation - looked very distant for a short while. "I'll think about that. If... If you could leave me and Master Ranos for a bit, I think this requires my full attention."

Ar'atania kept her face neutral as she nodded. "Of course. I'll see that we're on course to land while maintaining stealth. Take care, Aloisia."

Returning to the cockpit, Ar'atania settled into the co-pilot's seat next to Raina. "How's the commander holding up, ma'am?" Lieutenant Temple asked.

"She has the weight of yet another world on her shoulders. It may be just the one world right now, but after so long with so many burdens to bear..." Ar'atania let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose.  "I worry about her, Raina."

"But you think she can handle everything?"

"I hope so, but I'm afraid," Ar'atania confessed. "To be so burdened, and to still retain her sense of self, it takes a remarkable strength of will. She's never broken before, not once. But I'm terribly afraid, Raina, that I may have just lit a fuse that is going to have her explode at the worst possible time. All the same, I couldn't not do it, and even knowing what I do."

"You're likening the Commander to a bomb?" Temple asked. "What do you suppose happens when she detonates?"

Ar'atania turned away from Raina, unable to look her longtime compatriot in the eyes. "If she can gather enough emotional control, then perhaps the damage can be mitigated.  If not, then she takes this world with her as she crumbles."

Feeling incredibly tired, the onetime Imperial agent hung her head. "And if the worst comes to happen, and she gives into fear and despair, gives into the worst impulses of the Dark Side of the Force, then this world might very well be the least of our concerns."

Chapter Text

Holding her left arm out of the rookery window, Leliana ushered the ravens perched there to fly off and away to deliver orders to her agents in north-eastern Orlais and south-western Nevarra. Just outside, the sun was setting, the sky was alight with beautiful pinks and oranges, and the air was warm and calm with a light breeze tickling her skin. It was almost enough to make the Nightingale forget about all of the anxiety that had been caused by the Foundation’s visitor yesterday at sunset.

Leliana was still incredibly suspicious of whomever this Tanya woman truly was, for that was almost certainly not her real name. How and why Aloisia trusted her, this was also a mystery. Unfortunately, when the Steward had finally returned in the hours just before dawn – the Bull’s Chargers and their Fereldan escorts in tow – Aloisia had stubbornly refused to talk about anything, let alone give any sort of explanation, and had retired to her room.

That would have been bad enough, but with so much work to do, Aloisia had chosen to sleep in until almost midday. And when she had finally awoken, she had refused to discuss anything regarding Tanya at all, limiting any questions about the woman to the ‘gifts’ that she had brought them. The information about the hostages had turned out to be true, and as if to rub salt in Leliana’s wounded pride, a raven had arrived shortly after they had safely returned to Skyhold to corroborate that intelligence.

More than the safe return of the hostages, the prospect of an arsenal of weapons akin to Varric’s unique crossbow was not something to turn up lightly. That would be something to talk at greater length with Cullen about, but Aloisia had been smart to insist that Tanya build a separate model from nothing to prove that the finished version that she had delivered wasn’t an attempt at sabotage.

It was more than just Tanya or a refusal to speak about her that had Leliana worried about Aloisia. From yesterday’s sunset until right now, the Steward had seemed different. Leliana had not played the Great Game for this long without learning how to read people. Their leader was very clearly troubled, and Leliana did not know what to do about it.

Her first choice was to have Sera or Dorian talk to her, try to get her to let out whatever was on her mind. Both of them had refused, and when Leliana had demanded that they explain why, they had both told her that it was obvious. It would be one thing if they had been together when she spoke to them, but they had told her the same thing separately, and Leliana was wondering what she had missed. Then again, a Red Jenny and a Tevinter altus were hardly the sorts of people Leliana would turn to for advice of any sort.

So she had turned to Josie next. And bless her, but Josephine had tried her best to speak to Aloisia, but Leliana had been truly disappointed when Josie had returned to her only to report that the Steward was not feeling well, and had retired to her room early. That had been about an hour ago, and Leliana’s nerves were starting to grate. They were at a crucial juncture in the history of the entire world, and the woman who was the fulcrum upon which all of Thedas was precariously balanced was now choosing to… Leliana wasn’t quite sure.

It could not wait any longer, and perhaps it wasn’t a friend that Aloisia needed, but someone to issue a firm reminder of her duties. Leaving instructions for her deputies now that there was no more business she needed to attend to personally for the time being, Leliana took her time walking down the stairs to the main hall, then across to the other side of the fortress and up another long set of stairs to where Josie had decided was a room befitting of the leader of their group, be it the Inquisition, the Foundation, or whatever else.

Impatience got the better of her, so Leliana did not so much knock as she pounded on Aloisia’s door. “This has gone on long enough!” she called out. “Open this door, Aloisia Kallig! We need to talk.”

Leliana took a step back and listened for the sound of footsteps coming to meet her, but all she heard was something akin to the wind breezing right next to her ear, but as if there was more than one stream of wind overlapping with one another. It was soft and calm and it drowned out any other sounds that might have been coming from the room. Was this an enchantment of some sort? Even with her balcony doors and windows open, that was not what the wind would sound like, not naturally.

Thankfully, only a few moments passed before Aloisia opened the door. Before Leliana could utter another word, she had to pause for a moment to take in the Steward’s appearance, which was so very different from how she normally appeared. Gone was her armor of some unknown metal or ceramic, and in its place was a black fabric that looked like some sort of velvet, and it hugged Aloisia's entire body, a long-sleeved shirt and pants clinging to her skin and revealing every muscle along with every other sort of curve to her body.  Thick black shoes - not high enough to be boots  - completed the look, and with only her hands and face bare, Leliana could not help but appreciate the Blade of the Maker and her body.  She'd only seen her without her armor once before, and that had been in the wake of disaster.  Some time later, Leliana would look back at this moment and beg the Maker's forgiveness for ogling his chosen Steward.

“Are you going to stand there staring, or are you going to come in and chew me out for whatever it is that has you upset, Leliana?” Aloisia asked, her words drawing Leliana’s gaze back up to the Steward’s unsmiling face, her green eyes looking clouded over and tired.

Leliana mentally shook the haze of infantile fantasies out of her thoughts and accepted the invitation with a silence that befitted the situation at hand, and entered the spacious room. It was sparsely furnished, with a single garment cabinet, a few bookshelves, a bed, and a chair and desk that was the sum of what filled the Steward’s quarters. “Quite a utilitarian aesthetic you have here,” Leliana couldn’t help but remark.

“Yes. Well, I’ve lived a very utilitarian life,” Aloisia replied, her voice tinged with bitterness as she closed the door and sat down on her mattress. “So. What is it that we need to talk about so urgently?”

With that said, Leliana refocused on her purpose in coming here, and her indignant rage came right back with her clearing memory. “Ever since last night, when Tanya came to call upon us, you have not been living up to your responsibilities. You have just been carrying on as if-“

“That. Is. Enough.” Aloisia’s voice barely rose above a whisper, but there was a certain ferocity that was suddenly palpable in the air. “I will explain to you why I have been acting the way I have been today, but if I am to do so… Ugh! This is ridiculous that I have to do this, but… Well, here goes nothing. What is your take on Tanya? Based on everything you know, what does your most educated guess tell you about the woman and who she really is?”

Now this, Leliana had thought through, and now she could finally confront Aloisia about it. “The way you spoke to each other and the level of trust you put in her does not speak to a coincidental ally who you would not know well enough to not be suspicious of. She is someone you know, yes? Someone you actually trust?”

Aloisia didn’t smile or nod or show any change of expression. Her tired look remained steadfast. “Go on,” she said after a brief pause.

Leliana thought it mad to voice this next thought aloud, but it was the only one that made sense, given what she knew about Aloisia. “She is not from Thedas either, is she? She too comes from a star in the sky. Perhaps she was a part of your Alliance that you have spoken of, come to look for you after you went missing?”

“Well done, spymaster,” Aloisia said softly. It was a silly thing, but Leliana felt almost hurt at being called by her informal title. But why should she feel that way? It was what she was. “You’re just lucky that she appeared as she did. If she had been the one to crash on this world, and she had been forced to make do with only what was on her person in an unforeseen accident… Anyone who saw her would have either fled or else tried to kill her.”

Aloisia had spoken such words about herself before, and that had been in the context of non-human life out in the stars. Life that wasn’t just non-human, but utterly alien to anything Thedas understood. “What does she really look like? And what is her real name?” Leliana asked.

That got a chuckle out of Aloisia. “Well, I can answer one of those questions. Without any sort of disguise, she would appear human-shaped. Torso, head, two arms, two legs, five digits per appendage. Hair, two eyes, a nose, two ears, a mouth, all shaped about the same as a human. That being said, if you saw a woman with blue skin approach you, and if she had eyes with no whites and no pupils that glowed red, what would you make of her? What would anyone in Thedas make of her?”

Leliana sighed in understanding. “She would be mistaken for a demon, almost certainly. So, she is somehow able to hide her true appearance. And you said you saw her once before wearing a different face. Was that true, or just part of an act to keep us out of the loop while you verified who she was?”

“Both, actually,” Aloisia said. “That wasn’t her natural voice, either. Quite simply, she has the ability to look and sound like anyone at all, or else to vanish from sight completely. Just be grateful that she’s on our side. Well, it would be more accurate to say that she’s on my side, and hurting the Foundation would not serve any of her interests at all. And no, I can’t tell you how she does it. I wish that I could, but I don’t understand the science behind it all. All the same, it’s quite remarkable.”

“Yes. Remarkable,” Leliana said. That was certainly one word to attribute to such an ability. ‘Terrifying’ was more accurate to her thinking. “She could study someone, invisible to the eye, learn all there is to know about them, eliminate them and then take their place without anyone being the wiser.”

Aloisia actually smiled. “Now you’re beginning to broaden your imagination. In a way, that was one of her duties in the Alliance, only she wasn’t eliminating anyone. When… When Lana had to accompany me on a mission, she also felt the need to stay back at headquarters and manage the day-to-day operations of the Alliance. ‘Tanya’ became a body double, thus allowing Lana to be in two places at once.”

“I see,” Leliana said thoughtfully. That would most certainly be incredibly useful. “And that brings me back to asking what her real name is.”

“I already told you, I can’t answer that,” Aloisia said, her voice rising with frustration. “Honestly, it depends on who is talking to her. Her people have certain social customs associated with their names, and when she’s not using an alias, what she allows people to call her may vary from person to person. I can’t and won’t speak for her, but I can tell you that she will eventually seek us out with another appearance and another voice to join us in a more permanent capacity at some point. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

Leliana sighed and leaned against the frame of Aloisia’s desk. “Very well. I have listened to you explain your relationship with Tanya. Now tell me, what does this have to do with your irrational behavior since she appeared last night?”

”Irrational?!” Aloisia spat as she rose to her feet. “Ever since this mark – this Anchor – found its way onto my hand, I have devoted every moment of my time here to making sure that this world doesn’t end or else fall into further depravity! Before that, I spent every waking moment trying to minimize the losses of a war between trillions of people, and before that, all of my time was devoted to overthrowing an immortal spirit that had taken up residence in my head.

“My entire life has been a series of ordeals, one right after the other, either trying to keep myself alive or else to keep everyone else around me alive and free from tyranny. Last night, I had the briefest of reunions with the people that I think of when I think of the word ‘home,’ and I received some news that was not exactly pleasant. So forgive me if I take one single day to myself to come to terms with the shit storm that is my life! I have been dealing with everything, all the time, for so long, and enough has finally become enough.

“I’m not a god, Leliana,” Aloisia said at last, her breath starting to heave as she looked up to meet Leliana’s gaze with eyes that begged for sympathy. “I’m just one woman, and I’ve been doing my best, but I can only take so much. I’m just… I’m just so tired. I thought I could rest for one day, just one. It’s silly, but I’d forgotten that those seen as saviors don’t get the luxury of being people. At least Andraste was born here, she had friends and family to call upon. Until ‘Tanya’ comes back, I’m alone, Leliana. Just as I’ve been alone since I first arrived here.”

Leliana listened in horror as Aloisia unburdened herself, and now she finally understood what Sera and Dorian had seen that was so obvious that she had missed. She’s not a god or a prophet, but just a woman, however extraordinary. I’ve never let her be anything other than the Blade of the Maker, and now the Steward of the Foundation. I’ve been so focused on saving the world that I never thought to look at the toll it has been taking on her. Maker, I am such a blind fool.

Without consciously thinking to do so, Leliana walked over and sat down beside Aloisia on the mattress and pulled down her hood. “I’m sorry, Aloisia,” she said softly. “Truly, I am. I was being thoughtless, so entirely concerned with the bigger picture that I never stopped to see how much you’ve been struggling.”

Aloisia chuckled as she wiped tears from her eyes. “That’s the problem with thinking only about the big picture. You lose sight of all the little pictures that make it up. Broaden your focus too widely, and you miss the little things that are the reasons why you set out to help people in the first place,” she said as she straightened her posture and turned her head to look straight at Leliana. “Your eyes… They are a lovely shade of blue, like the sky. Do me a favor? Don’t let anything change that.”

Before Leliana could even process the compliment on her looks, she had to process the strange words that followed that remark. “How would they even change? I am no mage.”

Shaking her head, Aloisia took a deep breath. “One of my deepest regrets with my relationship with Lana is that I was never able to look her in the eye and see her natural eye color. Then again, this world is so different that the same rules might not apply. Tell me, Leliana: Have you ever met anyone with yellow eyes?”

The question was so strange and outlandish, but Leliana had to stop and remind herself that she had met one such person over a decade ago. “Only one,” she said at last. “She was an apostate mage, having lived most of her life in the Korcari Wilds, only leaving when the Fifth Blight came. She also traveled alongside the Hero of Ferelden, though she vanished without a trace just after the archdemon was slain. I believe she may have resurfaced in Orlais a few years ago, but in the intervening time? I have no idea as to where she was or what she was doing.”

Aloisia just nodded along with the story. “A mage. That fits. Did her use of magic vary from that of any other mages one might encounter in Thedas? Did she use her abilities for any purpose that was quite different from the norm?”

“I suppose,” Leliana confessed. Thoughts of Morrigan inevitably led to her personality and her ambitions more than her arcane abilities, though Leliana was no expert in that matter. “She was able to take the form of other beings. Animal forms that could fight or traverse terrain that she could not as a human, or else to attack as a human could not. A bear, a wolf, a giant spider, and so forth. Then again, I saw her mother turn into a high dragon right before my eyes, so who can guess at her full potential?”

“I see.” Aloisia’s voice was remarkably quiet, and she looked more pensive than anything else. “And her mother? What color were her eyes before she transformed?”

“Honestly, I don’t remember,” Leliana confessed. “I recall her looking like no more than an ordinary, frail old woman. Her eyes did not stand out as Morrigan’s did, I can tell you that much.”

“There is that name again!” Aloisia said. “One of these days, you or King Alistair will have to introduce me to this woman. I’ve heard so much about her that I think I should like to actually meet her and form my own opinions.”

Sighing, Aloisia shook her head. “But I suppose the rules must be different here on this world. Lana was born with green eyes, but I only know this because there are records that tell me as such. In the wider galaxy, the way in which one calls upon the Force can have a direct effect upon someone. Certain actions that lean towards what is commonly known as the ‘dark side’ of the Force can take a physical toll on those who use it.

“One Sith Lord fell into such depravity that her body was nearing death, and she was forced to weave an illusion to maintain a youthful and healthy façade. This was the woman who raised me out of slavery and took me as an apprentice. She told me I had a grand destiny, and that I would become powerful beyond my wildest dreams if only I was to scour the galaxy to assemble an artifact needed for a specific ritual. Only when I was done did she reveal that the ritual would have her transfer her spirit into my body and possess it, killing me in the process. She had elevated me to lordship so that when the transfer was complete, she could assume my identity with some level of influence.

“Her scheme backfired, but she was an extreme case of being corrupted by the dark side. Lana was never so depraved, but she was what I would call a darker shade of grey. The earliest and most common physical sign of the dark side’s influence is a change in the color of one’s eyes, usually to some hue between red, orange, or yellow,” Aloisia explained. “I wonder about this Morrigan, though. The rules must be different here, or else Alexius would have looked far different than he did back in Redcliffe, along with how many other hostile mages we’ve encountered out in the field.”

Leliana had no idea what to say to all of that. How wonderful would it be if evil took a physical toll on someone? Enemies would be so much easier to spot. Then again, Leliana was no saint herself. She acted for the greater good, but how many little pictures – as Aloisia had called them – had she missed when focusing on the larger tapestry?

Finding her own blue eyes meeting Aloisia’s bright green gaze, Leliana found herself getting lost in that emerald stare, and a haze of conflicting emotions very suddenly threatened to overtake her. “You have beautiful eyes yourself,” she managed to say, the sudden pounding of her heart and the fluttering in her stomach leaving her almost entirely breathless.

The moment seemed to freeze, as if time stood still, and then Aloisia leaned in slowly and planted her lips upon Leliana’s in a soft and tender kiss. Leliana knew that this couldn’t happen, that this would not end well for the Inquisition, or the Foundation, or whatever it was they were. What were they? Who qualified as ‘they,’ even? The Foundation of Fellowship, or just the two women alone together in this room?

A moment passed, and the question ended up not mattering at all as Leliana returned the kiss with a passion that had been slowly building over the past two months, and was only now fully realizing itself. Her arms began to wander all over Aloisia, fondling every inch of her body while trying to figure out how to get her fucking clothes off!

Aloisia seemed to grasp this concept and stood up, only to hastily remove her garments, and Leliana did the same. And then they both fell together onto the bed and let the world fall away as they surrendered to pure rapture.

Aloisia laid back on her bed, breathing slow and easy breaths as the euphoria of her and Leliana’s lovemaking swept through her body. Despite the bliss of the rush of endorphins coursing through her body, and despite the gorgeous woman in bed with her, Aloisia could not help but feel conflicted about her emotions and what they had driven her to do.

At first, the remark about Leliana’s eyes had not truly been a compliment directed at her spymaster, but rather a spiteful remark for Lana to hear. Aloisia had hoped that Lana would feel an inkling of the pain that her betrayal had caused. And then Leliana had complimented Aloisia’s eyes just the same, and there was a rush of shame for doing wrong by Leliana, followed by a reminder of the genuine attraction – both physical and emotional – that she felt for her new spymaster.

Their faces had been so close to each other, and Leliana’s hood had been down to reveal her beautiful face and her own head of red hair. It had just felt right to kiss her, but she didn’t want to come on too strong. Aloisia was a leader, and it would be all too easy to make her desires seem like edicts. But Leliana had returned her gesture, and with a level of heated passion that would make any Sith proud.

After that, there had been a mad scramble to remove their garments. Leliana had her chainmail to get off first, and then she had stopped for a moment to be fascinated by the zipper running up the front of Aloisia’s new shirt – her new black garments a gift from Ilara – before they had rushed to embrace each other and then tumbled onto the bed like manic womp rats in heat. There had been no finesse, no gentle touching. There had only been raw, unbridled passion, and it had been positively glorious.

Aloisia turned her head and wrapped her arm around her newfound lover. “You. Are. Amazing!” she managed to breathe out.

Leliana turned to face her, and it was so strange seeing the cold, calculating woman literally stripped bare and lying beside her. “As are you,” she said. “In many more ways than I already knew. But this… This cannot last. If this becomes something more than one bout of passion, people will find out, and they will exploit it to undermine us.”

Propping her head up on her hand, her elbow resting on the mattress, Aloisia made sure to hold Leliana’s gaze. At the very least, no one would have overheard their lovemaking. Another gift from Ilara had included some sound-dampening equipment to make her private quarters a safe space. “And which ‘us’ are you referring to? The Foundation? Or just you and I?” Aloisia half-asked, half-teased.

“Both,” Leliana said as she looked like she wanted to groan, but only breathed a contented sigh from her own rush of endorphins. “This… It is too great a risk.”

Aloisia groaned as she mustered up the effort to get out of bed before wandering over to find a towel to wipe herself clean until she could properly bathe. “I notice that you’re not denying that there is something here between us. I know what I’ve felt for some time, but I’m worried about what you feel? Do you see me as Aloisia Kallig, or do you see me as a divine emissary? Or if it’s both, then which of these is the reason for the wonderful tumble we just took together? And here you go,” Aloisia said as she tossed another towel to the foot of the bed.

Leliana grunted softly as she stood up and began to wipe her body down. “If I am to be truly honest with you, you terrified me at first. The ease with which you took command when you were still a prisoner, and the ease with which I allowed you to give me orders… It frightened me. And then I saw your power and your weapon, and as events unfolded, you proved to be a natural leader. And then we came to how views on magic and the Chantry needed to change, and I was scared again by what you had to say.”

Aloisia arched a quizzical eyebrow at Leliana as she began to put her clothes back on. “Am I really such a terrifying figure?”

That got a throaty laugh out of Leliana, and the sound sent shivers through Aloisia’s body. “You have no idea how formidable you are, do you? I’ve had to spend hours with Josie and Cullen to convince them that it’s okay to talk back to you during our meetings. You are such a force of personality, Aloisia, that your requests seem more like mandates. The only difference between before and after the fall of Haven is that now, your words are likely seen by many as divine mandates,” she said as she began to pull on her under-armor.

“Is that why you made love to me just now?” Aloisia asked, a cold fear taking root in her chest. “Did you return my affections just because you felt you had to?”

“No! Maker, no, Aloisia. It’s just… Let me go back a bit,” Leliana said. “Your views about magic and the Chantry were frightening at first, but the more time I spent with you, the more you explained your perspective, the clearer things became. I felt as if I had been blind for so many years without ever realizing it, and you finally gave me the ability to see things clearly. More than your politics, however, is just who you are. You are formidable and unyielding, but you are also compassionate and just and kind and so much more. You are wise and strong and beautiful, Aloisia. I am only surprised it took me so long to realize what it was that I truly felt for you.”

Zipping up her new black shirt, Aloisia sat down at her desk and began to don her boots. “And what is it that you truly feel for me? For my part, I am still trying to sort out my feelings. That being said, I have seen in you a truly cunning mind and a marvelous devotion to a set of ideals. You are utterly ruthless to your enemies, but still have boundless compassion for those you call friend. Anyone can see that you would go to terrible lengths before any ill could possibly befall Josephine, and I like to believe you felt similarly towards Divine Justinia. I don’t know as much as I would like, but from what I have come to know, she meant a great deal to you.”

“That she did,” Leliana said. “I loved her in my own way. It was the love that a young woman had for an outstretched hand to guide her to a better place when everyone else had forsaken me. She was a mentor, a mother, and a very dear friend. As for you, Aloisia… You stand among truly elite company in Thedas. I have only met two others with your capacity to lead and inspire to such a degree, and I only truly knew one of them. Solana Amell and Marian Hawke were both extraordinary women, but you stand in a league of your own. You are, quite simply, a remarkable woman, and you have chosen to confide in me, place your trust in me, and literally bare yourself to me. How could I not fall for you?”

Aloisia laughed as she stood up, finally fully clothed again. “It’s good that you know your own worth, Leliana. You set very high standards, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I’m truly honored to have met them. That being said, knowing what I do now, I have to ask you something. You said you were frightened of how quickly I took command. Would I be wrong in assuming that before you came to know me, you had hoped that I would be an asset that you could control?”

Leliana chuckled mirthlessly as she donned her chainmail. “You would not be wrong about that, though I gave up any hope of controlling you long ago. You have proven that you want what is best for Thedas, and I believe in your vision, I truly do. If I have concerns, I will come to you directly with them. If you were someone else, I might feel a need to control the situation myself, but I trust you to manage the Foundation on your own, and I trust that you will give Josie, Cullen, and me enough trust for us to do our jobs without you needing to meddle yourself.”

Aloisia smiled a broad grin, and she could feel it stretching from ear to ear. It was a great relief to hear, and it gave her a perverse sort of pleasure that she had found someone she could truly love who wouldn’t ever go behind her back. Someone who respected her enough to be honest with her. Leliana was so much better than Lana could ever hope to be, and she let that feeling sink deep into the core of her being. She wanted nothing more right now than for Lana to know that her betrayal had consequences, and that she would not be needed for quite a while to come.

”That’s unfair, Aloy,” Lana’s voice said from within. It was barely a whisper, but Aloisia heard it clearly. ”I’ve wronged you, I know, and I accept your scorn. But if you truly love this woman, then I beg of you: Be honest with her about why you feel the way you do. I’m paying the price for hiding the truth. I would not see you live to feel the same regrets that I do.

Unable to control herself, Aloisia shouted a Sith curse as she turned away and walked out onto the balcony. Damn her, but Lana was right. Leliana deserved the truth. Even if it wasn’t about romance, she had devoted herself to Aloisia’s cause, and she deserved to know the nature of their relationship.

And damn Lana for being so stubbornly loyal to her, even after all that she’d done! It would be so much easier to dismiss her if she was some evil mastermind out to destroy Aloisia and all she held dear. But Lana still loved her, was still looking out for her, and Aloisia would be lying to herself if she claimed that she didn’t still love Lana as well. She was furious at her wife, and she could protest to the contrary until her dying breath, but that wouldn’t change that she was deeply in love with two separate women who were far too alike for it to be remotely comfortable.

“What is the matter?” Leliana asked. “Did my reassurances truly sound so terrible, or is there something else on your mind, Aloisia?”

Sighing and slumping her shoulders, Aloisia turned around and walked back inside, closing the door to the balcony behind her. “Please, Leliana, take a seat. We need to talk about what just happened. While my feelings for you are real, my actions just now… They were not as pure as they should have been. If we are to continue with this – and I would very much like to, if there is a way – then I need to be honest with you.”

Leliana’s face scrunched up ever so slightly, but she remained standing. Was she concerned? “I am unsure how we would continue such a relationship, to be honest. I suppose as high as you stand, we could have an official stance be that I am your lover, someone for a grieving widow to toy with for lack of anything real…”

“No!” Aloisia cried, feeling all the more terrible at the truths she would need to reveal. “No, Leliana. If anything, let people draw their own conclusions for us to ignore. Am I a leader taking advantage of a subordinate? Are you a bard playing a game with her superior? I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Quite frankly, the need for everyone on this planet to place such value on what people do in bed is so far beyond anything back home. Well, at least in the circles I moved in. Noble men and women had their own games, but they tended to get in my way more than anything else. I would humor them if I had to, but nothing more.

“Can that just be enough for us? Can we just be together and not be bothered with what anyone else may think? You know I don’t have servants clean this room. I do it myself, and I bring my own laundry down the same as anyone else. That should prevent any servants from gossiping, yes?” Aloisia asked.

“Perhaps,” Leliana offered, her eyes flickering to and fro as if looking at any number of possibilities that only she could see. “But that is not why you just swore and went outside, is it not? Tell me, what is truly bothering you, Aloisia?”

Aloisia put a hand to her head and took a seat at her desk, turning her chair to face Leliana. “This is a bit of a story, and you warned me to tell you if I planned to explain something that might seem blasphemous, so consider yourself warned. Now, this story begins quite a while ago, before I was a member of the Dark Council of the Sith Empire. I was quite possibly the youngest person ever to sit there. How do you imagine I earned a seat on said Council?”

“I could not begin to guess,” Leliana said. “Is it at all like the Great Game here in Thedas?”

“There is scheming and maneuvering, but let’s just say that once you become a Dark Councilor, you need to defend your position with your life, because that is exactly what is at stake. I had no grand ambitions, to be honest. I was still trying to find my way when I was granted the title of Lord of the Sith. This was when my former Master failed to possess me. Her superior, however, was a staunch opponent of hers simply because she flaunted tradition. Darth Thanaton was a hardline traditionalist, and as part of Zash’s former power base, my very existence was something offensive to him that needed to be removed.”

Leliana nodded, as if in understanding. “It certainly sounds like the Great Game to me.”

“It does? Then you can understand why I find your Game to be loathsome,” Aloisia retorted. “Thanaton gave me a test that I was meant to fail, to retrieve a relic from the tomb of a long-dead Sith Lord. Such resting places, however, often play home to the spirits of the Sith entombed therein, who remain attached to the physical world and refuse to move on. I was ill-prepared for this one, so I sought out a way around this problem.

“The answer was in a ritual known as Force-walking. I learned it from yet another ghost of a Sith Lord, though he played the part of a humble servant when I first met him. I learned how to bind a Force ghost to my own being, thus granting me additional power and protection against attacks that would otherwise be fatal. I went back and completed the task that Thanaton had set me to. When I returned, he tried to kill me then and there, but I survived and was moved to safety by allies of mine. By all rights, I should have died there. I was alone for a time, so perhaps I did die for a few hours, and I just never knew it.”

Leliana’s eyes widened, and Aloisia nodded her head. “Yes, that is how I ‘survived’ after Haven, but I’m getting up to that point. To prepare myself to face Thanaton, I sought out more power. I bound two additional ghosts, and with the power of four Sith Lords, I thought myself able to face him. But the power was too much for me to control, and each of the ghosts had their own agendas. I had to seek out healing of both the body and the spirit to truly regain control over myself. And then he challenged me to a large-scale duel between the two of us and all of our allies.

“The only reason I won was because he was arrogant and thought me so far beneath him that he felt he had to quash me as one would a pest, but he could not. He appealed to his fellows on the Dark Council, and I followed him. We dueled just the two of us, and when I emerged victorious with Thanaton dead, his seat on the Dark Council passed to me. I was granted the title of Darth Imperius, and I was assigned leadership over the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge for the entire Sith Empire.”

“This would all be very fascinating to a scholar of your homeland, I’m sure, but why are you telling me this?” Leliana asked. “Do I need to worry about you losing control to these ghosts? What is the point you are trying to get at?”

“Patience, please,” Aloisia pleaded. “I’m getting there, I promise. When I had bound the ghosts, I had bargained with them that they would be free once they had helped me defeat my enemy, and when I had, I did not release them just from my own body, but from the bitterness that had them clinging to a pale existence in this world. To understand the irony, you must know the last parts of both the Jedi and the Sith Codes. The Sith Code ends with, ‘Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall set me free.’ The last line of the Jedi Code is, ‘There is no death. There is only the Force.’ At this final stage of their existence on this plane, they found truth in both codes. The Force had set them free, but there was no death, not truly. But there was a release into the Force itself.”

“Interesting,” Leliana said carefully. “And a relief. But what of your former Emperor? Was he also bound in such a way?”

“No!” Aloisia shouted as she rose out of her seat, eyes wide with rage. “No, that was not the same thing at all. He invaded my mind! It was a violation! Don’t you ever imply otherwise!”

To her great credit, Leliana stood her ground and did not flinch. “I see,” she said quietly. “My apologies. You were telling your story, and I interrupted quite tactlessly.”

Sighing and taking a few deep breaths, Aloisia turned around and sat back down. “No, I’m sorry, Leliana,” she said. “I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. But getting back to the present, when we crash-landed on this world, my wife did not survive, but she refused to move on, wanting to be with me, if only as a ghost. I decided that we should bind ourselves as intimately as possible, so I repeated the Force-walking ritual. Her death is bound to my life, and my life to her death. And that is how I survived the assault on Haven.

“More relevant to the here and now, however…” Aloisia trailed off, trying to muster up the words she needed to say. “I’ve come to realize that the heart can have room for more than one person in a truly romantic sense. I still love Lana, but last night, I learned that she violated my trust. I told you that ‘Tanya’ was Lana’s body double, yes? Well, when we were en route to rescue the Chargers, she told me just how far Lana forced her to go in order to maintain her disguise. Lana forced her to spend one full day in the role, including a night of intimacy with me. And despite that Tanya begged Lana to tell me the truth, she took that secret to her grave and beyond. It was Tanya who told me, and she thought that I already knew.”

“What are you trying to say, Aloisia?” Leliana asked, her voice rising in volume and pitch. “So, what exactly did we just do? Why did we just make love? Was it even ‘making love’ at all? Or were you just trying to get even with your dead wife?! Your dead wife, I might add, who you claim is not truly gone, no? Was she feeling everything you felt? Was I touching one woman or two in bed just now? You owe me the truth, Aloisia.”

“Yes, Leliana. I very much owe you the truth,” Aloisia readily admitted. “I’ll admit that when I first started talking about your eyes, I was focused on spiting Lana for her betrayal of my trust. That being said, my feelings are very much real, and they have been for some time. But in spite of all that she hurt me, I do still care about Lana. It’s hard to just stop caring about someone you love so suddenly, but I can’t deny what I feel for you, either. And believe it or not, it was Lana who told me to be honest with you just now. She didn’t want me to make her mistake of keeping my reasoning a secret.”

Leliana’s arms were crossed, her hood was up, and she looked entirely unhappy. “And how do I know that your feelings are real at all, and not just an attempt to get even with your dead wife?”

Aloisia began tapping at her holo-communicator, trying to find a specific audio file. “I first realized just how I felt when I was in that dark future in Redcliffe. I had a mental breakdown in the middle of a garden full of red lyrium. And then, you sang to me, and Lana helped you. Here, listen,” Aloisia said as she played back what had happened with a different incarnation of the woman in front of her.

“Though all before me is shadow. Yet shall the Force be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the Void. For there is no darkness in the light of day. And nothing once alive is ever truly gone. I am not alone. Even as I stumble on the path. With my eyes closed, yet I see. The Force is with me. Draw in your breath, my friend. Cross through the sky and past the stars. Be at peace within the Force. And be Forgiven,” Leliana’s voice sang through the device. “It’s all right. We’re here for you. Both of us.”

A brief pause followed before Aloisia’s voice came out. “She helped with the song, didn’t she?”

“She did, I think,” Leliana’s voice said, entirely soft and soothing. “She was never gone at all, was she? She’s been with you from the very beginning.”

Pressing a button to end the playback, Aloisia looked up at Leliana again. “You helped me overcome one of my worst fears and helped me do what needed to be done to get back on focus and get back to the here and now with the intelligence we needed,” Aloisia said. “You brought me back from the brink, Leliana. You and Lana together, if I’m to understand it correctly. If you want to know how such a thing is possible, I don’t have the answer. I am of the opinion, however, that there is no such thing as an impossibility.”

Leliana cupped her chin in her fingers before taking a seat on a clean, dry patch on the edge of Aloisia’s bed. “My mother used to sing those verses to me to help me recover from nightmares,” she said. “That is, the proper version. Not with the words tailored to you. But then, for you alone, perhaps that was the proper version. If it helped, then maybe so. It is definitely the kind of thing I would sing for someone to help them to master their fears, and I would not sing such a lullaby just for anyone. And Maker, am I a fool. Of course, the heart can hold room for more than one. I would be the cruelest of hypocrites if I decried you for something I wished to be true once upon a time.”

“And what would that be, Leliana?” Aloisia asked.

Leliana chuckled. “It’s just that when I was traveling with Solana Amell during the Fifth Blight, I was quite taken with her. So was Alistair, before he became king, and I think she was taken with both of us. On this one trip to Denerim, Solana got Alistair and I into quite an experience at a brothel that I shall have to share with you some time, preferably in his company.”

Aloisia had to chuckle at that. “Sounds like quite the tale.”

“Oh, it is! We had to get Alistair very drunk, however, as he tended more towards monogamy. In the end, Solana had to choose between us, and while I would never discount her friendship, she chose to find kinship and solace with her fellow Grey Warden,” Leliana explained. “It hurt at the time, but she made it clear to me that she was confident that I would be better equipped to handle the ‘loss,’ so to speak, better than Alistair would. Things worked out in the end, and I like to call both of them friends to this day. That being said, I haven’t heard from Solana in quite a while. Given what you learned in the future, I worry for her.”

Aloisia wanted very much to reassure Leliana that all would be well, but she knew better than to make promises that she couldn’t keep. At the very least, they had seemed to reach a sort of understanding for the time being. And wouldn’t it just be wonderful if that could be enough for now?

As if to answer her, ‘No, not in the slightest,’ Cole appeared as if out of thin air right next to Aloisia. “The Blade and the Nightingale, yes. You can help,” he said. “She’s shouting, raging, her world falling down around her. He is scared, terrified, running for his life. ‘You lied to me. We needed her, and you lied. Fucking, conniving dwarf.’”

Aloisia was on her feet in an instant. “Cassandra! What are you on about with Varric this time?! Let’s go, Leliana.”

Before Aloisia could hear Leliana’s bemused reply, she was bounding down the stairs and into the main hall. After asking for Cassandra and Varric, Aloisia made her way up onto the ramparts of the Skyhold and finally found the seeker holding her prey by the scruff of his neck.

“Cassandra! What is going on here?!” Aloisia demanded to know.

“Varric,” was her one-word reply, spoken without looking away. “He lied to me from the beginning! He told me that Corypheus was dead!”

“He was dead!” Varric protested. “We looted his body and everything. But that’s not what has you pissed, oh no. I had the gall to protect a friend of mine, and the seeker goes bat shit on me!”

“Yes, I understand you've already recounted this tale.  And in my own home, no less,” a very familiar voice said from behind Aloisia. She turned her head expecting to see Ilara there, but there was a human woman with short black hair and striking blue eyes standing there instead. “Really, even with the name changed - it's a Foundation now, is it? - the Chantry can still be counted on to employ the finest of inquisitors. No offense intended to the heroine of this saga, of course. I have to say, I thought I had it tough in Kirkwall, but the heights they’re raising you up to, Lady Steward? Do be careful. The fall would likely be quite unpleasant, I’d wager.”

Aloisia pulled with the Force to remove Cassandra’s hands from Varric before turning around completely to face the stranger. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, Miss…?”

“Marian Hawke, at your service, Your Holy Stewardship,” the woman said, bowing from the waist, her arms wiggling in a sort of mocking flourish. “Varric wrote to me about a common enemy we seem to share, and I just had to come and compare notes with the world’s newest chosen one. So tell me, Lady Aloisia Kallig, is it? Whatever are we going to do about Corypheus?”

Chapter Text

Ever since Cole had found Envy hurting the Templars, he had known that he was needed. People needed help, and Cole had tried so very hard to help the Templars, to stop them from turning red. But they didn’t want to see him, and when they did, they wanted to hurt him. It was sad, because they didn’t even really understand why they wanted to hurt him. Lies piled up on one another, so many over so much time, until they looked at lies and believed them to be truth. How would Truth feel if it was forced to appear to someone dressed in the face of a lie? Would Truth be hurt by the contradiction, or would it show itself only from a certain point of view?

Cole had been sad to find that he couldn’t help the Templars, but their plans for the world meant that he was needed elsewhere. He hurried as fast as he could to Haven. Warn the Blade, stop the Elder One, help the Inquisition to help everyone else who couldn’t help themselves. He had gotten there just in time, but maybe he should have arrived earlier?

It was then, arriving at Haven, that Cole had first met the Blade, only she had been two people instead of one. It had taken him a bit of time to figure out that only one of them was actually the Blade, and the other was someone else. Aloy and Lana, together forever, life bound to death and death bound to life. They helped each other just by being, and Cole was happy that they could help themselves. More than that, the Blade’s thoughts and emotions were strong, solid, unyielding. People thought that she was a mage, but she was really more like a Templar, making the world around her more real with every word and action.

After the fight against Corypheus, Cole had helped the hurting, soothed their wounds of body and spirit. The Blade’s doubts that she spoke of weren’t real to her, but her words were real for so many others: unspoken doubts, hurting inside, afraid to acknowledge, and the Blade helped the people to face their feelings. She was helping all of them in ways that Cole didn’t think that he could do on his own. Or maybe he could, but he’d need to learn more before he could help the way the Blade did. He was glad that she hadn’t felt pain before she died, but now she was alive again. It was strange, but it was good. She could keep helping people while she was still alive.

Solas felt doubts of a different sort, and he hurt so very much. Cole wanted to help him, and while Solas was very kind, he didn’t seem to want the help that Cole felt he needed. Solas was a very complicated person to understand. Cole didn’t want to just let Solas stay feeling hurt, or he wouldn’t be himself. But if Solas did what he felt he needed to do, he would end up hurting himself so much more, along with so many other people. Helping Solas would be difficult, and it would take time. For now, Cole would try to ease him into understanding that Aloisia didn’t shine so bright because she was more real than anyone else. It wasn’t that simple. If anyone had hurts in need of help, then they were real to Cole. He had to help Solas, for his sake and for everyone else’s.

Once they had reached Skyhold, Cole had been able to move about more freely and to help more people. Or at least, he had tried to help, but the Blade had stopped him from ending a person’s pain. It was then that he began to see that she wasn’t just the Blade.  She wasn’t just the woman that Corypheus feared so much.  She was also Aloisia Kallig, and she had so many hurts running so deep inside of her. And born of these hurts was an overwhelming fear of a monster, the likes of which caused Cole himself to feel afraid. He wanted to help her, but her hurts were so different, so much bigger, than anything he had seen before. Even still, she put her own hurts aside to worry about everyone else. She and Cole were alike in that way.

Aloisia Kallig had taught Cole more than one lesson that day. She had made him understand that the fastest way to end a hurt wasn’t always the best one. Apart from that, she had tried to convince him that pain wasn’t always bad, but sometimes it was actually necessary. Cole hadn’t understood her until she had put it into words he could understand. A small hurt today would stop bigger hurts tomorrow. Lessons being learned, understanding being gained, a reason to help people to remember instead of making them forget. It was new, and it was strange, but Cole would give it a try. He had to try if it could truly help people.

When Aloisia turned the Inquisition into the Foundation of Fellowship, Cole felt joy like he had rarely known when so many people felt their burdens lifted. Coming together, helping each other, a new purpose for so many people, and it made them happy to be committed to helping. There hadn’t been as many hurts since that day, but there were still some people who needed help. Some people and their hurts loomed bigger than others.

Days passed, and Cole came to understand the people residing in Skyhold. Cullen had old hurts that were healing, but sometimes a stitch came undone, and the hurt would grow again. “I loved a mage, love let the demons break me. I hurt so many, blinded by faith and fear. Never again. The Blade of the Maker, another mage. Wonderful, amazing, terrifying. We would be lost without her. What will she think when she sees my weakness? Can’t let her see. Can’t let anyone see.” His body ached when his fears came to the surface, and Cole could only whisper to him that Aloisia wouldn’t see him as weak or awful, but as strong and penitent. In the end, he would have to make the choice himself, but Cole hoped that he could help Cullen reach that point.

Blackwall hurt deeply, too, but it was more for the lies he told to everyone, including himself, and the toll that those lies were taking on him. “Want to be good, live up to the name I chose. Let Thom Rainier stay dead. What if they know? If they find Rainier, what happens to Blackwall? Does he die? Does the good of the Wardens die with him?” Cole had tried to help him to understand that Rainier wouldn’t ever be gone until Blackwall truly felt that he was Blackwall and not Rainier anymore. He was trying to be Blackwall, but he hadn’t fully let go of Rainier. At least Cole could take comfort in knowing that if the man did have to choose, he would choose to be Blackwall, and he would help people.

Josephine did not hurt so much herself, but she worried so very much about everyone else’s hurts. So much worry about who needed this, what needed to be said to this person or that, how much to give to someone without insulting them with too high or low a sum, and on and on it repeated day after day. Josephine didn’t truly feel so much hurt, but neither did she feel too much joy. “You’re a person, too,” he tried to tell her. “Helping everyone, making them happy, but you deserve happiness, too! It’s not all about you, but it’s not all about everyone else, either. It’s about everyone. You’re all the same: people who need each other.” In a way, she was like Cole himself. She helped others because she felt she had to, and because it gave her joy. But she was a person, not a spirit. She had family, and her family’s hurts became her own hurts, and they made it harder for her to help everyone else. Cole hoped that Josephine could see that she could be happy without relying on others’ happiness to make it so.

Sera was someone that Cole liked very much. She wanted to help people, but sometimes she was like Solas in how they had trouble wanting to help certain kinds of people. With Solas, it was because he didn’t want them to be people at all, even if he couldn’t help but doubt himself. Sera split people up in her mind so that some were more real than others. Big people were less than little people, and elves were the wrong sort of people. On the outside, Sera didn’t like elves, but it hurt her deep inside, so deep that she didn’t quite know it herself. “Dalish are too elfy. City-bred, too elfy. Solas, way too elfy. I’m not elfy, don’t want to be elfy, why do I have to be elfy at all?” It was a cut in her soul that was hard to heal because it was scarred over with newer thoughts, newer hurts. “I’m not a big person, but Aloisia thinks that I am. She’s too big a person, but she’s good. Nothing makes sense. She wants me to kill her if she goes bad, but how do I kill someone the Maker sent? Why did you put that on me?”

Dorian’s heart was full of guilt, but not for himself. Others had done bad things, had hurt people, but Dorian felt their guilt for them because he felt he had to. He wanted to help, just like everyone else in the Foundation that used to be the Inquisition, but he loved people that hurt others, and he wanted to help them to stop hurting people so that he wouldn’t need to feel the guilt of a nation on his own. Aloisia and the possibilities she held helped him not to hurt so much, and she gave him hope and inspiration. “Awful empire makes a good woman, a great woman. Why can’t my empire make great people like her? We could wed for show, make Magister Pavus shit from the shock, turn the Imperium into a place of hope. Why was she born a woman? I love what she is, but I can’t feel that way about her. Why can’t I adore her in full? No, nothing is wrong with me! You will not win, father! You won’t!” When Dorian’s mind stopped racing, which was rare, Cole would try to whisper to him. “Love isn’t just one thing. Love the person, not the woman. Love people.  Love a woman who is your friend, love a man who loves Dorian Pavus. Neither is less. Love is always real. The shape doesn’t matter, doesn’t not make it love.”

The Iron Bull was hard to help, because he wasn’t truly sure who he was, even more so than Blackwall. He let Cole in to see, but only barely. And whenever he did, he was scared that he wasn’t as scared as he thought he should be. The Iron Bull had been given another name, Hissrad, and he wanted it to fit him despite that it didn’t. Being Hissrad was hard for The Iron Bull. It was like putting on a shirt that he couldn’t button up. He could try to pull Hissrad over his head to cover himself, but it would get caught on The Iron Bull’s horns. He was The Iron Bull more than he was Hissrad, but the two weren’t done vying against each other in his heart. The names were struggling against each other, and the person who held them both didn’t have enough room inside of him for both. He loved the Qunari, and he loved the Chargers, but he knew that he’d one day have to choose one over the other, and it would hurt. Cole would try to lessen the pain, but having to choose between two loves was something that tended to hurt people when they had to make such a choice.

Just like Aloisia loved two great loves, but she was trying so hard not to choose, and Ar’atania had made it harder, and she was so very strange to Cole. Ar’atania was always pretending, always needing to be someone other than who she was, but she still had to remember that she was Ar’atania at her core. Her hurts were hard to see, walls upon walls in a maze full of locked doors that she’d built up in her mind. The walls kept her fears from breaking inside to hurt her, but they also kept her fears locked inside where Cole couldn’t help her. He knew that fear lurked behind those doors, but he couldn’t see what the fears might be. All the same, he had to try and help. “It’s okay to trust, to let people in. Walls can be destroyed, doors can be burst down, locks can be picked open. Throw wide the gates yourself, or they’ll open up on their own. You won’t be ready, and you’ll be hurt and afraid.”  As much as Cole tried to help her, Ar'atania was unlikely to listen, so afraid of others controlling her.  Cole was glad that she had help, at least.  There wasn't quite a spirit, but perhaps a piece of one, of something that once called itself 'Watcher X,' that helped to protect her.  Cole didn't understand, but he was happy if it helped Ar'atania.  He just hoped that it wasn't covering up the hurt instead of helping it to heal.

While Ar’atania might keep her fears for herself locked away, her fears for Aloisia and her fears of Leliana were open for Cole to see, but he didn’t think she needed to be afraid. Not after what he had just seen. Aloisia and Leliana, so much alike, so slow to trust, forcing themselves together with words and secrets. And then joy like nothing else, all hurts gone for a time, forgotten in the bliss of each other. Aloisia tried to apologize, but she didn’t need to. She didn’t do anything to spite Lana, even if she thought she had. She had been hurting, and she wanted Lana to understand her hurt because of the love she felt. And Lana loved Aloisia just as much. She was hurting from a hurt of her own making, and Cole couldn’t just stop the pain because she felt she deserved to hurt. Aloisia’s hurt didn’t mean she didn’t care. Some hurts only hurt because they cared, and those hurts might be long in the healing, but they were the surest to heal despite the time it took. And as much as he wanted to tell this to Lana, she was stuck inside of Aloisia, and Cole could only look in at Lana right now, but he couldn’t truly reach her.

Leliana’s mind was just as labyrinthine as Ar’atania’s, but her walls weren’t so solid, her doors not so heavy, the locks not all so definitely closed, and that scared her. She was torn between her desire to love and feel loved and her fears of that love being exploited. More than that, the nature of Aloisia Kallig and Lana Beniko was hurting her more than she let Aloisia see. “How can I hope to compare to a dead spouse who is still here? Did her wife feel everything she felt? How does Lana feel? Can I trust Aloisia about this? What if Lana is controlling her? Would her wife do that to her? I need to get away from her, but Maker, just let me have this. Solana chose someone else, but Aloisia is choosing me. Can that be enough? Maker, when will I ever do enough to earn happiness for myself?” Cole was about to tell Leliana that she had happiness waiting for her in Aloisia, and that her doubts were all that held her back. But before he could tell her, a new hurt drew his attention.

Flitting through Skyhold, Cole came to see Varric and Cassandra both hurting, and they couldn’t help but see each other as the cause of those hurts. “He lies. He always lies, and I always believe him. I cannot let him continue. We needed her, and he hid her from us.” She stood above Varric, so caught up in her own hurt that she didn’t see the fear rising in Varric. “Maker, enough is never enough. I told the truth to the Seeker of Truth, but she focuses on the one lie. I try to protect a friend, and she threatens me. I tell the truth, and she gets mad when she doesn’t like it. Maker, help me before she loses her shit and actually makes good on her threats. My luck’s about to run out. If Red was here, she’d stop this shit. If Red was here. Please get here, Red.”

Cole wanted to stop Cassandra from hurting Varric anymore, but she was so focused on him that she wouldn’t hear what Cole had to say. So Cole went to find Aloisia to help, but she was only red on the outside. If she was red on the inside, then she wouldn’t be Aloisia Kallig. Cole ran back and made sure to appear and tell Aloisia what was happening. He then vanished from sight and followed, hoping to see her help, and oh! Now there was a Hawke perched here, too!

~~Marian Hawke~~

Ever since the Fifth Blight had made its way to Lothering, Marian Hawke’s life had been a matter of surviving one disaster after another in the company of a host of extraordinary personalities. After Knight-Commander Meredith’s horrific end in the Kirkwall Gallows, Hawke had tried to keep a low profile and finally have a bit of time to herself. She’d been sad to say goodbye to Varric, and Aveline had stayed to help rebuild the city that had become her new home. Apart from those two dear friends – along with her beloved Isabela – Hawke was quite frankly glad to be rid of the rest.

Anders and Fenris had both latched onto her for reasons that only they could likely understand, and each of them had been utterly insufferable. They were in so many ways exactly the same as one another, just on opposite sides of the issue of mages being treated too harshly or else not harshly enough. In the end, Anders had gone from a fanatic to a terrorist, and Hawke had killed him herself if only to atone for her idiocy in being duped into helping advance his plots. As for Fenris, she hoped to never see him again, and given that she was a mage in favor of mage’s rights, the feeling seemed mutual.

When Hawke had first met Merril, she had thought her a naïve child skilled with magic, but she had thought that the former First to a Dalish Keeper would at least know the difference between a spirit and a demon. Hawke regretted ever giving the girl the benefit of the doubt, and Merril had taken all the wrong lessons, and blamed her former clan for her own misdeeds. Hawke had been sorely tempted to drag the young elf to the Circle then and there, but in the end had convinced her to forget about magic and try to simply help the elves in the Kirkwall alienage learn a little bit more about their heritage. Mitigate some harm and do a little good, Hawke had hoped. Knowing her luck, however, it was likely to bite her in the ass sometime down the road.

By mere chance, the Prince of Starkhaven had felt indebted to Hawke because she took on a job that happened to help him, but the clueless young fool had read far more into it than was actually there, and he had followed her about for years like a stray puppy. Hawke couldn’t stand Sebastian’s hypocrisy regarding which Chantry oaths he would follow and when, and she had been glad when he finally went to actually take responsibility of Starkhaven after the showdown with Meredith.

Things had been a bit quieter after leaving Kirkwall. Hawke kept in touch with Aveline, reading her reports about the reconstruction with more eagerness than she had thought she would feel. Despite her best efforts, Kirkwall seemed to have grown on her like some sort of parasitic fungus. She also kept in touch with Varric, and she had been happy to hear that her friend was doing well for himself on his own. Isabela had stayed close by, and after a few more misadventures, they’d found themselves a ship and a crew that had soon grown into a small flotilla. And for a time, Hawke was content to be no more than ‘the Admiral’s girl’ who could drink and laugh with the rest of the crew while having the best sex she could ever imagine with the woman who had instantly drawn her in with the freedom that came so easily to a pirate, and that was so elusive for a mage.

And then, a few months ago, someone had seemed to think it was a bloody wonderful idea to rip a giant hole in the Fade. Hawke had been asleep when it had happened, and her dreamscape had roiled like it was suffering a cataclysmic earthquake. She hadn’t been able to fall back asleep for another day or two, and only after delivering their ‘cargo’ – refugee apostates bound for Redcliffe after disembarking in Amaranthine – did they receive word from ashore about just what had happened.

The news had brought both Hawke and Isabela a need for familiarity beyond just the two of them, and so her beloved Admiral had given command of the rest of her ships to a trusted Commodore, and they had taken Isabela’s flagship back to Kirkwall to touch base with Aveline and get a feel for what was going on for all the landlubbers that Hawke herself had once been.

Alas, the news from ashore had drawn her back onto solid ground, for it was highly disturbing. A few months prior, Templars had marched into Kirkwall led by a Seeker of Truth, and this woman had found Varric and interrogated him about Hawke. More than that, but she had done so in Hawke’s own home! Hawke had been so full of indignant rage at the time, and she hadn’t been sure if she was bothered more about her friend being interrogated or the fact that it had happened in her own home. Varric was a loyal friend, and while he might be a certain type of scoundrel, he was far from the sort of criminal that a Seeker had any business pursuing about anything.

More than just the principle of it happening in Hawke’s own home was that it was the Amell estate. With Lothering fallen to the Blight, the estate and everything contained within was all that Hawke had left of her mother and sister, both taken from her far too soon. But that couldn’t be the last of it, oh no. Word had reached her from another ally – a Grey Warden who had offered Hawke and Isabela sanctuary after fleeing Kirkwall – about grave concerns about corruption in the ranks of the other Grey Wardens. And then, Hawke had begun receiving letters from Varric again, who seemed to have found himself involved with the Inquisition of all things, and he was still technically a prisoner of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast. Of course, it just had to be some Nevarran princess who thought she could do whatever she wanted with an innocent dwarf. But then had come the tales of the Blade of the Maker, and Hawke wondered if Varric’s luck might be worse than her own.

Marian Hawke had never wanted to be the center of attention of an entire city-state. She had been a refugee trying to make her way, and then little more than a self-glorified sell-sword who stumbled into wealth at the cost of Varric’s brother, not to mention the further tragedy that would come from that accursed idol. After that, she had resumed her work as a mercenary, not content to simply rest on her laurels, and had ended up being crowned ‘Champion’ after saving the richest people in the city from Qunari who had had enough. She’d been disappointed in Isabela when she’d left with the Tome of Koslun, but was overjoyed when she came back and returned the relic. But then the Arishok had demanded her life, and Hawke was not willing to let the zealots from the north take Isabela away.

After that, everything had gone to hell. Suddenly, Marian Hawke was beset on all sides by all manner of requests for favor or aid or blessing or whatever else she could do to ease their troubles. Most of it was nonsense from noblemen and women who thought that she was their greatest ally because she just happened to stand against the Qunari’s wanton slaughter. One thing led to another, Orsino and Meredith each tried to use the Champion of Kirkwall for their own ends, and then Anders destroyed any hope for peace in Kirkwall and all of Thedas. After Meredith’s madness was finally brought to its horrific end, Hawke had left Kirkwall intent on never returning.

Hawke knew full well what it was like to have so many expectations thrust upon her without warning, and she could only imagine what this Blade of the Maker was going to be dealing with, and now Varric was caught up in the storm. After quietly resuming residence in her family manor, Hawke exchanged letters with Varric more regularly. And as his stories grew all the more extraordinary, Hawke found that she was glad that this woman, Aloisia Kallig, seemed to be worthy of her title in Varric’s eyes. He wasn’t as close to this woman as he had been to Hawke, and if she didn’t know any better, she might think that Varric viewed Kallig with religious awe.

And then the letter had come about the attack on Haven, Aloisia Kallig’s return from death, and the Maker seeming to physically intervene in the mortal world. It was all entirely extraordinary, and yet it all paled into insignificance next to the enemy that had wiped Haven off the map. Hawke had immediately written a letter to her ally in the Wardens, hoping against hope that they’d take the threat of Corypheus seriously. Thankfully, Hawke received a reply with the promise of support, but also with the knowledge that her ally was in danger from other Grey Wardens that might have been compromised by Corypheus.

There was only one thing to do, and so Hawke bade Isabela farewell for a time. The Admiral would take back command of her flotilla, and Hawke would make her way to Skyhold to offer a firsthand account of the enemy that the Inquisition – or the Foundation, or whatever – would be facing. That, and she would put herself between Varric and this Pentaghast woman who had wronged them both. In truth, Seeker Cassandra sounded not much like what most people described Nevarran royalty to be, and that was not necessarily good or bad. What was necessary was that she stop hounding Hawke’s dear friend for no good reason.

So it was that Marian Hawke found herself walking into the grandest fortress she had ever laid eyes on, just one more ‘pilgrim’ to Skyhold in the hopes of joining the Foundation of Fellowship, as it was now called. While she didn’t feel that her face or garments were particularly out of the ordinary, Hawke still took care to wear a hooded cloak just to be safe. Even if she didn’t feel a need to hide her face, she was unaccustomed to the cold mountain air, and she was glad of the warmth the cloak brought her.

When they finally got into the open-air interior of Skyhold, a number of soldiers were there to greet them, while some scribes took note of everyone’s names, their skills, and what weapons they had among them. No weapons were confiscated, not even from other mages, but they were all told that violence would not be tolerated. Hawke was fine with this, as she didn’t want to cause trouble, or at least not too much trouble. When asked for her name, she offered herself as ‘Mary Amellaine.’ It was close enough to the truth to not entirely be a lie, and thankfully nobody noticed her staff for anything other than a mage’s stave. Of course, nobody could be expected to know what the Key to Corypheus’s former prison would look like, but Hawke had taken it with her from Kirkwall in the distant hope that it would help put a more permanent end to the darkspawn magister.

Whatever the truth of the Inquisitor might be – or the Steward, as she seemed to call herself nowadays – she had managed to find a home for her Inquisition or Foundation or what-have-you that positively thrummed with magic. Kirkwall had always set Hawke’s nerves on edge, and a journal she’d found deep in Corypheus’s former prison had made her wonder if he had been behind that ill feeling all along, even while deep in magical slumber. Skyhold, on the other hand, was pure and free and full of liveliness. Most places that Hawke had visited had no real feel to them from a magical perspective, but the few that did left a lasting impression. This place… This place could do a lot of good in the right hands. And if Varric was to be believed, then this power would be wielded more for good than for ill.

Someone cleared their throat and caused Hawke to turn to face two armed and armored humans, a male elf and a female human, with no markings to give away their allegiance, but Hawke recognized plainclothes agents when she saw them. “May I help you?” she asked, keeping her voice calm and level after over a decade of practice.

“Just trying to clarify something,” the human woman said before nodding to her elven partner.

The elven man nodded and spoke. “You gave your name as Mary Amellaine, yes? I wonder if you are at all related to Lady Mary Amellaine of Val Chevin? To the best of our knowledge, she has blonde hair and does not regularly travel. And she does not make a habit of carrying a mage’s staff.”

Well, shit, Hawke thought, though she couldn’t help but find herself impressed by the Foundation. Here was an elf being allowed not only arms and armor, but the authority to question visitors to Skyhold. Hawke’s estimation of the group went up, though she’d have to come clean about her identity, unfortunately.

“No relation that I’m aware of, though one never knows for sure. We could be tenth cousins eight times removed, for all I know. But, that sort of story will see me hang, and I don’t think a noose goes well with this look, do you?” Hawke couldn’t help but keep an outward sarcastic wit. It had a tried and true history of hiding her deeply cynical view of the world, along with all of the pain that she had endured over the years. “I’m afraid the truth is that I thought to use an alias, not knowing it was already taken. Before you clap me in irons, I assure you that I simply wanted to avoid making a scene. My name is not Mary, but Marian. My mother’s maiden name is Amell, minus the -aine on the end. You might know me better as Marian Hawke. How do you do?”

The human woman in front of her tried to hide it, but Hawke noticed her eyes widen as she took a sharp breath, and she also heard a pair of heavy footsteps suddenly halt behind her before picking up at a quickened pace. “All right, I seem to have upset someone. Well, you seem to be aware of whomever it was behind me that just took off all of a sudden. Do I get the honor of knowing who it is that I’ve either scared away or else severely pissed off? I do like to keep a running tab on these things.”

“That was Seeker Pentaghast, Milady Hawke,” the woman said as her face paled. “I know she’d been looking for you before the Conclave. It… It caused her a great deal of frustration at the time.”

Hawke sighed overdramatically, knowing that she’d have to rescue Varric again. It was about the very least she could do for him. Neither of them owed the other anything, as far as she was concerned. They were friends, and they had each other’s backs, always. It was time to be a friend. “I hope with the matter of my identity cleared up, you can excuse me, please? I need to find a friend whom I believe is in residence here at Skyhold. Can you point me in the direction of one Varric Tethras?”

The elven man had gone a touch pale as well now as he pointed to a spot behind Hawke. “I believe that’s him over there, running up the stairs to the ramparts. Being chased by Seeker Pentaghast, I believe.”

“Oh, of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be?” Hawke snarked with a deadly smile. “If you’ll both excuse me for a moment, I’ll be on my way.” So saying, Marian turned around and made to follow her friend quickly and quietly. She didn’t want to leave him alone with the Pentaghast woman, but she didn’t want to announce her arrival too soon, either.

She made her way up the ramparts, and as she neared her friend, she heard voices clamoring. “Cassandra! What is going on here?!” a woman shouted, her voice brooking no argument. Hawke ascended the stairs more slowly, more stealthily, and she saw a woman with a long mane of fiery red hair in armor that Hawke had heard described in great detail many times. This was Aloisia Kallig

“Varric,” the princess snarled. “He lied to me from the beginning! He told me that Corypheus was dead!”

“He was dead!” Varric said, and he sounded desperate. “We looted his body and everything. But that’s not what has you pissed, oh no. I had the gall to protect a friend of mine, and the seeker goes bat shit on me!”

There was an art to making an entrance, and Hawke decided that the time had come to do so as she stepped up and announced herself. “Yes, I understand you've already recounted this tale. And in my own home, no less. Really, even with the name changed - it's a Foundation now, is it? - the Chantry can still be counted on to employ the finest of inquisitors. No offense intended to the heroine of this saga, of course,” she said with a nod of her head to the woman in question. “I have to say, I thought I had it tough in Kirkwall, but the heights they’re raising you up to, Lady Steward? Do be careful. The fall would likely be quite unpleasant, I’d wager.”

The Steward made a small gesture with her right hand, and Cassandra was forced back from Varric, letting go of his collar, as if her gesture had magically made it so. And then she turned to look at Hawke. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced, Miss…?”

“Marian Hawke, at your service, Your Holy Stewardship,” she said with an overly dramatic bow. “Varric wrote me about a common enemy we seem to share, and I just had to come and compare notes with the world’s newest chosen one. So tell me, Lady Aloisia Kallig, is it? Whatever are we going to do about Corypheus?” Hawke asked before turning to the belligerent seeker. “And what are we going to do about a certain Nevarran princess making a mockery of her good name by what she’s been doing to my good friend over here? Are you all right, Varric?”

“Oh, about the same as usual,” Varric answered casually, but she knew him well enough to detect the stress in his voice.

“That bad, is it?” Hawke said before turning to face the Inquisitor or Steward or whomever she was. “So, Lady Kallig? I was given to understand that you were trying to avoid making the Chantry’s mistakes. Was I wrong to assume such a thing?”

Kallig folded her arms in front of her chest as her green eyes roved up and down, though Hawke could tell that the other woman was not ogling her. No, she was sizing up a possible adversary. “First of all, I would advise against assumptions in general, Miss Hawke. There is no such thing as impossible, even if there should be. And second, I would like an answer to this question as well. Cassandra, what has gotten into you? And I’m sorry, but did I just hear that you’re rehashing an interrogation that you conducted in someone else’s home? Did she have your consent for that, Miss Hawke?” Kallig said as she looked from the princess back to her.

Hawke decided then and there that she liked this woman, but she wouldn’t want to assume anything. It was good advice, after all. “As a matter of fact, I had not given any consent for anyone to use my home as an interrogation chamber. And please, just call me Hawke,” she said with a wry grin. “And I spoke with the Captain of the Kirkwall City Guard about it, and she had been caught by surprise just as much as I was. She’s very keen on keeping order in the city by way of the law. And wouldn’t you know it, but she actually appreciates the spirit of the law and not just the letter. Go figure. You can imagine my surprise when she told me that Varric was being hauled away from his home – and my home, to boot – as a prisoner, only Aveline never got an answer as to what crime Varric was guilty of.”

“You did mention that you were a prisoner, the same as I was, when this all began, Varric,” Kallig said as she looked back at him, and then again at Cassandra. “I believe an explanation is in order, Seeker Pentaghast. But not here, not out in the open. We will talk this out like civilized beings and only when I have gotten every side of this story will I decide what is to be done. And speaking as someone who first met you, Cassandra, in similar circumstances, I would choose your words very carefully. We will have the truth, the whole truth, and only the truth. If your oath as a seeker means anything to you, then you will give that much to me freely. Am. I. Clear?”

Hawke realized a few things as she watched a seeker with a royal name wither under Kallig’s quiet reprimand. The Steward of the Foundation had not raised her voice, but she hadn’t needed to. It was ridiculous, but it almost felt as if there was some sort of magical aura emanating from the woman, and within that aura there could be no lies or prevaricating of any sort. And whomever Cassandra Pentaghast was – Nevarran royalty or Seeker of the Chantry – the woman clearly felt fear in the presence of Aloisia Kallig, and her eyes and body language betrayed genuine shame.

For one very selfish moment, Hawke hated Aloisia Kallig. Hawke had an easygoing charisma in spite of her depressing view of the world, but she didn’t have the sheer force of will that could be seen in every inch of Aloisia Kallig. If only she could have been in Kirkwall instead, if only this woman here could have taken up the mantle of Champion, then maybe Meredith could have been stopped, maybe some semblance of order could have been brought to the city, and real justice along with it. And maybe she would never have been stupid enough to allow herself to play a part in the deaths of so many innocents due to one man going too far… No. No, it was time to stop lying to herself, Hawke decided then and there. Anders had never been a man. He had always been a literal and figurative abomination. And she’d failed to treat him as such, and now so much death because Hawke had wanted to see the best in people…

“Hawke!”

The sound of her name brought her out of her spiral of self-pity and back to Kallig, who was staring her straight in the eyes. Something tingled in the back of her mind, and she knew that this woman who radiated command was searching her in some magical way.

“Are you trying to skulk about in my mind, Lady Kallig? Is that something you can do? Forgive me, but the tales about your magic are rather strange and contradictory,” she said, trying to hide her fear of this strange woman. “Things get exaggerated in the telling, you know. Like how you came back from the dead, right? Such a silly story. I’d be disinclined to believe it if we weren’t here talking about someone whose body I searched for shiny trinkets, only to find him leading an army years later.”

Kallig continued to stare at her, neither of them blinking. “Cassandra,” the Steward said without breaking eye contact. “Please go and confess your sins to Sister Nightingale. I’m sure you would do well from unburdening yourself to a woman of the cloth. Varric, you may stay if you wish, but only if you and Hawke both consent.”

Hawke had to suppress a giggle at Kallig’s instructions to Cassandra, but she wasn’t sure if it was from humor or from fear. Sister Nightingale, known also as Leliana, had been a spy in service of Divine Justinia. Hawke had run into her once in Kirkwall and again at Chateau Haine. Whatever capacity she served in this organization, she was no mere Chantry sister. All the same, Hawke allowed her eyes to flicker sideways just a bit to watch the princess scurry out of the way.

Finally, they had some privacy. “Varric,” she said at last. “It occurs to me that we’ve been very formal up until now. I don’t suppose you’d mind introducing me to the fine lady as if you were introducing anyone else? You’re a good judge of character, and I think we can all drop any pretense now and just be ourselves. Please, my friend, let me know who I’m dealing with here.” Hawke hated herself for putting Varric in this situation, but she knew that he understood that she rarely ever dropped her mask of playful sarcasm, even when alone with him.

“Right, right,” Varric said. “First of all, thank you both for coming to my defense. I’d say I had it all under control, but that would be a lie worth its own novel. Something for another time. Anyway… Hawke, this is Aloisia Kallig. She has some strange shit on her left hand that she uses to close the rifts that spit demons out into the world, and she used it to close the Breach itself. She’s also the only person I’ve ever met who’s ever been able to stare the Chantry in the face and make them blink. And no, we’re not counting Blondie. Red, this is Hawke. Best friend, always has my back, worth lying to the seeker for. If I had to choose one of you over the other, I’d side with Hawke. No offense, Red, but I like being around Hawke more than you. You’re not bad to be around, but you’re also really scary sometimes, and I’m honestly not sure if you realize just how frightening you really are and to how many people.”

Finally, Kallig broke eye contact and looked down at Varric, and Hawke was glad to see a wide smile grace her lips. The force of nature had suddenly been replaced by a warm, human woman. “You’re right about that, Varric, unfortunately. I do know how scary I can seem when I feel a need to intimidate someone. It’s in the day-to-day when I don’t want to invoke fear that concerns me. I do hope you’ll let me know when I’m being scary. I’m trusting you to keep me honest, Varric.”

That got a laugh out of Hawke. “Varric is good at many things, but keeping you honest? Well, I trust you with my sanity and my good health, Varric, but never my honesty. It’s part of your roguish charm. That, and your magnificent chest hair.”

“Yes, I know,” Varric said with fake seriousness. “It's a heavy price for a humble businessman and author, but I figure I can pay it.”

“And you do it so well,” Kallig said with a smile before turning her gaze back to Hawke. “But before this goes any further, I’d like to apologize to you, Hawke, for Seeker Pentaghast’s behavior. It may have happened before she came to be under my command, but as she is one of my people, it’s my responsibility to know what she has done. So Varric, I’m sorry for not rectifying this situation sooner. And Hawke, I am sorry for the invasion your home suffered at the hands of the Chantry. If either of you feel the need for restitution, I’ll do everything in my power to see that justice is done.”

“Just like that?” Hawke said with more than a little disbelief in her voice. She found her hands on her hips as she unconsciously postured for the woman opposite her. “You just swoop in and tell a Seeker of the Chantry that she needs to make amends to two random people from Kirkwall?”

“Hawke…” Varric said, and she recognized the warning in his voice. Hawke knew better than to ignore his instincts.

Kallig's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and she looked to take a breath before stepping forward a few paces, just enough so that she was on the edge of Hawke's personal space. Neither of them blinked or flinched. “I understand that you don't know me, and you don't know how I operate, so please allow me to make things as clear as possible," Kallig said in a low, quiet voice that demanded Hawke's undivided attention.  Hawke got the feeling that while she wasn't being threatened just yet, she was being given a warning of sorts.  "Varric is one of my people, too," Kallig said quietly. "He is my responsibility, and I can’t have one of my people terrorize another and let that go unanswered. It goes far beyond a weakness in leadership. It’s about justice. And I do care about real justice, not the Chantry’s perverted version of it.

“So, let me make it absolutely clear that this Foundation and I are not the Chantry. In point of fact, it is my sincerest hope that the Dragon Age will be the last such era under a Chantry calendar. Right now, there is no Divine. The upper hierarchy of the Chantry is dead or in shambles.  The Foundation I am building here is something that I want to benefit all of Thedas, and I’ll be damned if I let the Chantry keep this broken realm mired in the past as it limps towards its own death. One seeker of truth is nothing to me, Hawke. I want a just and good future for all the peoples of Thedas, and I would very much like to gain your aid in that endeavor. That being said, I take issue with those who force others into doing things against their will. You and Varric have been reunited as good friends. You can continue to support us, together or individually, or you can leave here peacefully and make your own way. And if anyone tries to stop you, then they will answer to me, personally.”

Hawke had thought that the tales of Aloisia Kallig had been exaggerated in the telling, but having the woman up close and arguably in her personal space, giving Hakwe her personal reassurances in a low, cold voice that radiated authority… Only years of practice kept Hawke from flinching, and that was only because of the sheer quantity of forceful personae that she’d had to deal with, but never with this potency.

“And what if the Chantry tries to arrest us after we leave your fortress, here?” Hawke couldn’t help but challenge in return. It was a dare that demanded an answer, and Hawke found herself very much wanting to know what that answer would be.

Kallig stepped back and laughed, but it was a cold, mirthless sound. “If the Chantry decides that it will continue to stand for injustice, against you or anyone else, then it will become my enemy. That being said, I will not be as reckless as your former companion, Anders. No, the Chantry is already on life support, barely clinging to life.  If, by some miracle, there are enough people willing and able to change it into a genuine force for good...  Well, I'd be skeptical of that goodwill lasting for long due to the organization's long and brutal history," Kallig said, and she almost sounded a bit sad as she spoke.  "But my hope is for the Chantry to end, and whatever actions the remaining clergy take in the days to come will decide how I will seek to manage its demise so as to avoid collateral damage. Thedas and its people are changing, just as they have been changing for the past several centuries while the Chantry has remained stuck in the past. It is a relic of a dead era, and the people need only to have their eyes opened to bring this truth out of my dreams and into everyone's reality.

“One last thing,” Kallig said before Hawke could even wrap her head around the sheer daring of this woman. “If you choose to stay and help, I must ask you to try and stop blaming yourself for what Anders did," she said with a newfound gentleness in her voice, though her green gaze never left Hawke's own blue eyes.  "I don’t know the whole story, but I could feel your guilt earlier, and how it still eats at you.   I don’t know the story in its entirety, so I could very well be wrong. But if you do hold yourself responsible...  Well, I won’t demand that you stop, but I will ask for you to try.”

Hawke had no idea what to make of this woman. She had gone from threatening to kill the Chantry in one moment to asking Hawke to forgive herself in the next. By the fervor in her voice, she clearly cared a great deal about every single thing she spoke about. If Hawke could bottle and sell her own personal ability to detect bullshit, she would be the wealthiest woman in the world, and that sense told her that Kallig had not lied or exaggerated one bit about anything at all. And that was utterly terrifying.

"What do you know of Anders' story?  And why do you think I feel guilty about it?" Hawke said, her voice rising despite herself. "The man was a fanatic and an abomination who killed innocents and ravaged a city just to make a statement!  We both seem to care about real justice, which is why I personally ended his life."

Kallig straightened her posture, seemingly calm and steady, her hands folded behind the small of her back as she maintained eye contact with Hawke, neither of them allowing themselves to blink.  "I've read 'The Tale of the Champion,' and I've heard Varric's stories around a few campfires.  But then, the world is filled with many stories of heroes and villains, and such stories rarely tell when the heroes feel doubt, or when the villains feel regret.  So I can't say that I know the truth.  If you would enlighten me, I would consider it an honor."

Well, that was hardly something that Hawke could refuse, now was it?  Of course, she probably could refuse, but it wouldn't end well.  No, this was an illusion of choice.  "Varric," she said as she finally had an excuse to break eye contact with Kallig, turning to face her friend.  "Do you remember what I told you when you asked for my opinion before you started writing that novel?  And if so, would you mind telling the Steward?  I hope you'll forgive me, but you know her better than I do, and I hope you know me well enough to know why I'd rather that you be the one to speak of this particular detail."  It's because I'm a bloody coward.  I could tell her myself, but I don't know how much I can say without making her truly angry.  She's already proven to be literally fearsome, and Maker forgive me for being such a fucking child!

Varric sighed, but he patted Hawke on the arm with one hand.  "Sure thing, Hawke.  So, Red, before I wrote that story down, I asked Hawke if there was anything she wanted me to add or else not to say or any other shit like that.  She asked me to make it a story that anyone could relate to.  Make one clear-cut villain and have everyone else be victims of something or another.  Have there be no right or wrong answers to anything.  Keep the epic romance, keep the Chantry hypocrisy, keep the Qunari brutality.  Make the cast a bunch of rag-tag misfits that anyone can see a bit of good in or a bit of bad in.  But whatever else, I wasn't ever to tell the actual truth of the story, especially not about the main character.  The hero has to be larger than life.  She has to be able to inspire greatness.  And she does, that much is true.  But in the end, she isn't larger than life.  She's just an ordinary person who was dealt a shitty hand, trying to make the best of it."

Kallig nodded her head as if coming to an understanding.  "And even if you held a good hand, maybe even a winning hand, that one card named 'Anders' makes it all seem worthless at the end of the day?  Or am I wrong?"

Hawke let out a humorless laugh and turned around to avoid letting anyone see her face.  Dammit, but she would not break down here and now, not until she had cleaned up the mess she'd made by unleashing Corypheus into the world.  If she'd been a real hero, she would never have forced her way through that prison.  She had been so intent on escaping to get back to her own life that she had ignored all the warning signs of what she would be bringing with her once she escaped.  But it was too late for regrets, so she'd have to put on her big girl britches and face them head-on.

Turning around once more to face Kallig, Hawke nodded.  "All right, yes!  Anders was a barrel of oil just waiting to ignite, and I knew it, and I allowed him to trick me into lighting the match, and I wanted to see him as a human being capable of telling justice apart from vengeance, but I was wrong.  He'd surrendered his humanity before I ever met him, and I deluded myself into thinking otherwise.  And that will haunt me for the rest of my life."

"Is that truly what you think of the man?" Kallig said, and her voice was oddly soft, as if offering up sympathy?  But no, that couldn't be right.  "I barely know a single thing about the man himself, I admit, but I can probably say that Anders will be condemned to be forever remembered as a murderer who lit the spark of war.  And if any of what I read is true, then he understood that he'd done terrible things, and he accepted his judgment at your hands.  You will not want to hear this, Hawke, but you simply had the misfortune of being too close to the inevitable result of the Chantry's injustices over the past several centuries.  For ages, they have pushed people until they have broken, and it was only a matter of time before someone pushed back and said 'no more.'  Anders may have done what he did out of a sense of vengeance, but I cannot claim to know either his mind or the spirit's intentions.  The Chantry has been piling tinder upon its own pyre for centuries, and if Anders didn't light the flame, then someone else would have.  It's merely bad fortune that it all happened with Corypheus in the wings."

Kallig was right.  Hawke definitely did not want to hear this.  "All the same, if I'd been more attentive...  If I'd been able to stop him-"

"If you'd stopped him, Hawke," Kallig said, "then the world would have gone on pretending that all was right in the world between mages and Templars, Divine Justinia would never have called a Conclave, the Inquisition would never have been formed, and we would not be here with free mages as our consenting allies in the effort to leave behind a better Thedas for future generations.  I doubt that eases your pain at all, but worrying about what could have been will leave you trapped in the past.  And if you let yourself stay in that trap, then you will fall just as the Chantry is poised to fall.  Look forward, Hawke, not back.  And promise me that you will try to forgive yourself.  You don't have to succeed right away, or at all.  But please, just try."

Kallig's voice was calm, and it was somewhat soothing, but it was still as unyielding as everything else that Hawke had seen of her.  If this is the woman to lead Thedas into the future, as she says...  Maybe there's a bit of room for hope, after all.  Ah, but I'm cursed with eternal optimism.  It'll be the death of me, I know it.  “Very well, then.  I’ll stay, and I’ll try,” Hawke said at last. “And hopefully we can stop Corypheus too. I failed once at that. I don’t intend to fail again.”

“Good woman,” Kallig said with a smile that actually reached her eyes as she clapped Hawke on the arm with one hand. “And with all of that said, I’ll leave the two of you to catch up. And I’m sorry that your introduction to Skyhold wasn’t as pleasant as it should have been.”

“It was enlightening, at the very least,” Hawke said. As Kallig made to step away, Hawke had a thought that escaped her mouth before she could stop it. “What are you trying to forgive yourself for, Lady Kallig?”

The Steward stopped in her paces and her shoulders sagged. “Ziost, and all the rest I couldn't save,” she said without turning around. “I failed to save the people of Ziost. I didn’t kill them, but I couldn’t save them. Every day since then, I always swear to myself, ‘Never again.’ It’s part of what keeps me going. It drives me, and it drives this Foundation.  If only I had opened my eyes sooner, and if only I hadn't been baited afterwards, so many times where 'if only' would have made all the difference, and it takes everything I have to force myself to let those things push me forward instead of holding me back.”

Those words felt all too familiar.  "I can't say I've ever heard of Ziost. I think I might like to hear the tale someday," Hawke offered.

Now Kallig did turn around, and her green eyes seemed to be pools of emerald sorrow. “One day, I may tell you that story, Hawke. But you are wrong. You would not like to hear that story. And if you were to hear the story and if you did enjoy it..."  Kallig sighed, and she suddenly seemed like a very human woman.  Of course, she always had been, but first impressions made her out to be something more.  It was good to see her come down to the level of mere mortals, but Hawke wondered what it was about Ziost - whatever it was - that elicited such a reaction.  "I made a promise after my failure at Ziost: Never again. If you were the kind of person to enjoy such a story, then you might as well seek out Corypheus and sell yourself into his service.  The end of life on a scale you likely can't imagine, because I couldn't stop it.  One day I may tell you that story, Marian Hawke.  And if you are the woman I hope that you are, then you will wish to have never heard of such horrors."

Straightening her posture once more, Kallig smiled warmly as if she had just woken up to a wonderful new day, and as if she had not just spoken of somber and terrible things. “Thank you for your time, Hawke. I look forward to working with you. Please, make yourself at home here at Skyhold.  There's a pub just over there.  'The Blade's Rest,' they call it, however much I wish they wouldn't.  Take a moment to unwind and relax after your journey.  Good day to you both.” And then the Steward of the Foundation of Fellowship walked away.

Once the woman was out of sight, Hawke let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and she found herself gasping for air. Maker, but Hawke felt so incredibly foolish for having ever thought that Meredith was someone to be feared.  Aloisia Kallig was like a force of nature, either gentle and calm or else raging and fierce, or all of that at once.  Hawke had dealt with many large personalities over the years, but rarely had any of them ever made her feel so small in comparison.  And even rarer was the person who could see through her anger at Anders and get to the guilt and shame at the root of it all.

“Varric,” she said at last, “after that expedition into the Deep Roads, I thought you were done getting me into entirely awful situations like this that I can’t handle on my own.”

“Well, that’s what you keep me around for. Right, Hawke? Because I’m not going anywhere,” Varric promised.

“Good,” Hawke said with a breath of relief. “Because that woman is either going to save the world or else she’s going to be the death of us all.  And you had better be around for me to say, ‘I told you so.’”

“It’s just like I said, Hawke,” Varric said with a welcome smile. “Things are just about the same as usual. Maker help us all.”

Chapter Text

Managing the Foundation was proving to be both very similar and very dissimilar to running the Alliance, Aloisia was quickly discovering. The meetings, the life-or-death decisions, and the companionship of allies turning into friends was all very familiar. The lack of technological development, however, made some things infinitely more tiresome to deal with, at least for someone who had experience with faster-than-light transportation and long-distance communication in real-time. Thankfully, Aloisia had some good people who knew the logistics of this world better than she did, and they were either patient enough or else afraid enough to humor her.

More than humoring her ignorance, however, was the ever-growing amount of people willing to join the Foundation and provide genuine aid to those who needed it. Aloisia knew she couldn’t claim nearly all the credit for this widespread altruism, and that it was the widespread belief in the Maker that inspired these people to do the right thing. Aloisia might try to guide that worship down a better direction, but the irony of the common belief in a creator-god of all things – the kind of entity that could only ever be evil – was not lost on her. If she was honest, the Maker was in all likelihood just another myth, but it was one of inspiration and hope, and those things could lead ordinary people to become truly extraordinary.

In a strange way, Aloisia supposed she ought to give thanks to the Maker for giving her the means to divert aid and support and succor to those in need all across southern Thedas, whereas she herself could only be in one place at a time. And such thoughts inevitably brought up the question of when Ilara would make herself known again, because there was a very real possibility of her being able to be in two places at once, but that had proven a disaster once before, and Aloisia would not repeat that mistake. Time and distance had given Aloisia room to let her pain fade a little, but it was still there. Lana was not forgiven, at least not yet. Things would get back to normal between them, or so Aloisia very much hoped. At the very least, Lana was respectful of Aloisia’s need for some space, and she couldn’t deny that she loved her wife so very much in spite of the pain she had caused.

But Aloisia’s personal life would have to wait until the business at hand had been dealt with, or at least until there was a sufficient lull in between dangerous ventures. The Foundation’s primary concerns, at the moment, were aimed at the two major threats that she and Dorian had gleaned in that alternate future. The assassination of Empress Celene of Orlais, and the demon army that would follow and take advantage of the chaos. Josephine was almost constantly consumed by working to soothe the Foundation’s relationship with the various parties involved in the Orlesian Civil War, or the ‘War of the Lions’ for those who wanted to glorify it.

Empress Celene was not likely to forget the arrest of her court enchanter. As for Vivienne’s ultimate fate, the official story was that there had not been enough time to see to the prisons of Haven and keep its charges under guard in the midst of a civilian evacuation, and those poor souls were at the Maker’s side after being buried under an avalanche. Grand Duke Gaspard had a dislike for politics that Aloisia could definitely empathize with, but he made no secret of his military ambitions. Lastly, one Ambassador Briala – representing the elves of Halamshiral – would be in attendance at the Winter Palace in the selfsame city for peace negotiations at a masquerade ball of some sort to be held in just six weeks’ time. The great majority of Orlesian nobility in one place at the same time… It was an assassin’s dream come true.

Josephine had assured her that invitations for Aloisia and key Inquisition personnel were secure, but Aloisia would still need her advisors to brief her in exacting detail on every single person who would be present at the peace talks.  Between now and the ball, however, there was a demon army in need of finding. Unfortunately, leads were scant to the point of non-existence. But there was one other matter worth looking into, and that was whatever lead Marian Hawke had on Corypheus. She claimed to have an ally in the Grey Wardens who had not disappeared, but who was in hiding for reasons yet unknown. Whomever this person was, they were in the Ferelden province of Crestwood, and that was where Aloisia would be headed next.

Before that, however, there was one last bit of business to take care of at Skyhold, and it was something that Aloisia had been dreading. As the leader of a growing world power, she was expected to act as such. On Thedas, this seemed to mean that the judgment of criminals fell to her alone. Not every criminal, of course, but crimes against the Inquisition or the world writ large were for her to judge. It wasn’t so much the responsibility that upset her, but the venue, in which she would sit on the bench and try her utmost to think of herself as a judiciary figure and not as an empress sitting on her throne. No thrones, not ever again.

Today, Aloisia would judge three men and decide their fates. As she understood things, one of these men was entirely harmless, and her judgment was not so much needed as it was expected. Another was a long time in the coming, and the last was an offense to everything that Aloisia was trying to accomplish with the Foundation. With her advisors assembled, and an assembly of spectators in the grand hall, she sat upon the bench and nodded silently to Josephine, who would serve as a spokeswoman for the Foundation when Aloisia was not speaking for herself.

With a gesture from Josephine, a pair of guards brought in a giant of a man – clearly Avvar by both his size and his attire – whose wrists were bound in manacles. “Chief Movran the Under,” the ambassador announced. “He claims kinship with the Avvar who abducted our scouts – and those of Ferelden – and defiling the holy ground where the Temple of Sacred Ashes once stood. We apprehended him as he was attacking… Attacking the building. With a goat.”

Aloisia had to suppress a grin at Josephine being so out of her element, and for the first time since meeting the very friendly woman, she had to admit that Josephine’s diplomatic skill extended only to those people whom were widely seen as ‘civilized,’ and falling short of taking the time to understand older and simpler cultures that fell into the supposed domain of ‘barbarism,’ which was entirely a matter of perspective.

Judging by the look of him, Movran the Under would not be here unless he had let himself be captured, or unless the Foundation’s reaction to him had been a severe overreaction. “The last time I checked, livestock was not known to be a siege weapon. Chief Movran, if you meant to attack us, I do not believe this is what such a thing would look like, though I admit I am ignorant of your people’s customs, for which I offer my apologies. If you would enlighten us as to your intentions, I would be most grateful.”

The Avvar chieftain chuckled a deep, throaty laugh that showed to Aloisia that he found this whole thing entirely amusing. “A courtroom? Unnecessary. You killed my idiot son, and custom demands that I smack your holdings in goat’s blood.”

Aloisia knew better than to look to Josephine for clarification, so she addressed Movran directly. “And which custom, exactly, demands such a smacking? I sincerely hope it was not one of revenge, for your son’s actions were extremely provocative, which as far as I can tell was entirely the point.”

“Ha! You have a great deal of sense for a lowlander,” Movran said as he smiled. “No, he was meant to kill Tevinters, but decided on his own to get feisty with your Inquisition, or your Foundation, or whatever pretty name you’ve chosen for yourself. The goat was a sacrifice to show that there is no bad blood between my people and yours. Ugh. I should have expected this. A redheaded mother guarantees a brat."

Of all the things that this harmless man could have said, he had to invoke red-haired mothers. Aloisia could trace her own fiery locks to her mother, and presumably her ancestors before her. The Sith Empire did not suffer brats in its slaves, and all of a sudden, the Steward of the Foundation was hit with a pang of longing for her mother, who had long ago become one with the Force, or so she liked to believe.

But that was personal, and this was Foundation business. “Chief Movran the Under, you are no enemy of the Foundation, that much is clear, and you have not brought harm to us, but have repented for your son’s misdeeds. I see no reason to hold you here any longer. Let it be known that there is no contention or hostility between us. I do not know what status you have among your fellow Avvar, but if you are among your people in a greater community in the future, then I ask that you spread the word that the Foundation means no harm to them, and would welcome their partnership should they choose to freely give it. And if any of my people dare to threaten or harm any Avvar, then I ask that you take them alive and bring them to me for judgment. You took pains to make amends for the misdeeds of one of your people, and I would ask for the privilege to do the same, though I hope it never comes to that. Alas, too many people are under the misapprehension that the Avvar are little more than barbarians. I hope that between the two of us, we can disabuse the masses of that notion.” Aloisia lifted a finger to tug on the Force, and the manacles fell from Movran’s wrists.

The chieftain let out a small chuckle. “You truly aren’t like most lowlanders. Then again, Amund claims he saw you heal the tears in the world. He thinks you’ve been favored by the Lady of the Skies. And Amund Sky-Watcher is no idiot or fool. Very well, Inquisitor, Steward, Blade, or what-have-you. Let there be no bloodshed between us, and I will make sure my kin get the message, even if I have to beat it into their skulls.”

Aloisia did smile now, wondering at how apt ‘Lady of the Skies’ seemed to fit her as well as any other title in this world, but she wouldn’t disrespect this man’s beliefs. “Go in peace, Chief Movran the Under,” she said, and off he went. That was one matter over and done with, but this was most assuredly the easiest. No longer smiling, Aloisia turned to Josephine and gave a curt nod of her head.

“You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter,” Josephine said as the man himself was dragged in, stripped of the markings and garb of rank that Aloisia had last seen him in. “In light of your service to Ferelden – and the nature of his crimes in relation to the Breach – he has been remanded into our custody as thanks for you to judge, Lady Steward.”

Looking down at Alexius from the bench, Aloisia couldn’t help but pity the man. He had done great and terrible things, all in the vain hope of saving his son from an inescapable fate. Had Corypheus never found him, or had Alexius found it in him to come to terms with Felix’s condition… Well, no one would ever know what might have been.

Josephine continued. “The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assassination. The last of these being on your own life, no less. The Tevinter Imperium has disowned him and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former magister as you see fit.”

Aloisia shook her head. “First things first: let’s get the charges right. ‘Apostasy’ is a loaded religious term. I would rather focus on the reckless use of magic that took advantage of a massive Breach in the Veil, deliberately caused by his own fellows. The attempted enslavement was not an ‘attempt,’ for those people were enslaved for a time, so the proper term would be ‘mass enslavement.’ The assassination attempt, however… That is quite accurate. So, Gereon Alexius, do you have anything to say in your defense?”

“I couldn’t save my son! You think my fate matters to me?!” Alexius snarled, and Aloisia sensed the truth of things. Felix was dead. She had known that he had testified on behalf of the then-Inquisition before the Magisterium and against his own father, but she hadn’t known that he’d succumbed to the Blight. “You’ve won nothing,” Alexius continued. “The people you’ve saved, the acclaim you’ve gathered… You’ll lose it all in the storm to come. Render your judgment, Blade of the Maker,” he said, practically spitting Aloisia’s formal title.

On the one hand, Gereon Alexius had done unspeakable, unforgivable things to so many people. On the other hand, Aloisia found herself recognizing herself in this man. Shortly after waking from carbonite, she and Lana had been fending off Zakuulan forces – both skytroopers and knights – when Lana had been momentarily disarmed, and the Emperor had frozen time and offered his power to Aloisia to save Lana from what seemed to be imminent death. And oh, how she’d been tempted. She had considered it for precious seconds that had stretched on for eternity, but she knew that Lana would have never felt right about being saved at such high a cost. And so Aloisia had trusted in Lana over the Emperor, and that trust had proven to be worthy. Gereon Alexius was exactly what Aloisia could have become if she’d given into the Emperor’s temptation.

“Before I render my judgment, Alexius, I believe you should understand my perspective. Your spell of displacement did work, and Dorian was caught up in it with me. I understand that he isn’t here right now because of the pain it would cause him to see you like this. After everything, he still holds a fondness in his heart for you. But your spell sent us fourteen months into one possible future where the Breach was never sealed, where your agents wreaked havoc in the Fereldan armies, and where your Elder One went on to triumph over all. I saw a Breach that covered the entire sky. No more clouds or stars or sun or moons. Just the Fade, looming over everything.

“And the demons, so many demons. There were more demons in the world than there were living men and women. And when I finally found you in that future Redcliffe Castle, you were a broken man. And Felix was, as I understand the term, a ghoul. There was no life in him. He had no mind, no soul to speak of. He was an empty husk that you clung to because it was all you had left. And before I came back to make sure that future would never come to be, you gave me a message to pass along to yourself, so that you would know what a future under the Elder One’s rule means for you.”

The assembled crowd was understandably shocked to hear this revelation, but if there was any time to make the knowledge public, then it would be now. Raising her palm, Aloisia let a wave of calm roll over the great hall, and there was quiet enough to hear as she brought up the recording on the holo-communicator attached to her left wrist.

“How many times have I wished that I could warn my past self not to be so foolish?” another Alexius sobbed, his voice slightly distorted due to the nature of electronic recording. “Tell me that it was all lies. Tell me that the Elder One will bring naught but death to the whole world, including the Imperium. Tell me that the hope the Elder One gave me, the hope that I could save my son… Tell me that it was false hope that brought me and my son nothing but misery and ruin at the end of all things.”

The silence in the room was so thick that Aloisia wondered if a metaphorical lightsaber could even make a clear cut. “Now that you have heard yourself speak – yourself from an apocalyptic future that would have come to pass had you succeeded – do you have anything else that you wish to say, Gereon Alexius?” Aloisia asked, her voice firm but not ungentle.

For his part, Alexius looked quite shaken, as if he wasn’t sure what to believe. Aloisia wasn’t sure she would be any better under similar circumstances. “If that truly is my voice from a future in which the Elder One triumphs… Oh, Felix!” was all he managed to get out before he broke down in tears, falling to his knees as he openly wept at the realization of all that he had done, and all of it for nothing. “Grant me death, Inquisitor, I beg of you. Let me see my wife and son again, if you have any mercy in your heart for such a terrible fool.”

Aloisia felt awful hearing him beg for death, for she would not grant it. That didn’t mean she couldn’t try to offer him some manner of consolation. “You will see your family again, Gereon,” she said gently. “But it won’t be today. I’ve said it before, but death comes for all people and all things. Your time will come one day, and then you will be reunited with your family. Until then, however, you still have crimes for which you must answer. Your greatest crimes are not against me, but against the mages who you manipulated and sought to use for evil ends. And in spite of your terrible deeds, they are nevertheless impressive. You have a brilliant mind, and your onetime apprentice still thinks that you are worth saving. Dare I say it, but I think that Dorian hopes to see his friend that went missing somewhere along the way.

“Gereon Alexius, you are to be indentured into servitude to the free mages of the Foundation, under Fiona’s direct supervision,” Aloisia decreed. “You promised to aid the mages, and now it is time to make good on that promise. And if you must think of a reason to keep on going, then think of all the lies the Elder One fed you that led you down this terrible path. Think on that, and help us to stop him from harming anyone else. Or failing that, help us out of revenge for what he did to you and to your son.”

Alexius looked ready to protest, but Aloisia cut him off. “Before you speak, let me remind you that your son understood that death comes for everyone in due time. Felix was a good man who did not deserve such an early death, but he had come to terms with it and accepted it. It pained him to see you go down the path that you did. You did everything you did for your son, but you trampled all over his wishes in so doing. Think about what Felix would want from you, and let that be your guide, Gereon.”

The familiar use of his given name caused the man to look up at Aloisia, and she wondered what he saw when he beheld her face. “Very well, Inquisitor. I will serve the mages. Ha. ‘Indentured servitude,’ how ironic. For how long, I wonder? And what is to become of me after such a time?”

“The Imperium offers citizenship for those indentured for ten years, correct?” Aloisia asked, knowing full well the answer. “The offer you extended in bad faith is to be your fate going forward. Ten years of service to the mages, after which point they will judge whether or not you have amended yourself of your former ways. It is my hope that you will prove yourself worthy to be a free mage in Thedas, but if you remain unrepentant and prone to dangerous practices, then I grant the mages the freedom to end such a threat if they deem it necessary. Know that I will keep a personal eye on your progress, and I will not allow them to seek out blind revenge if your time in servitude shows genuine progress.”

Alexius sighed. “It is a cruel and ironic form of mercy, I suppose, but… Yes, it is what Felix would have wanted. I will serve the mages for the memory of my son. Does that satisfy you, Inquisitor?”

Aloisia smiled. “For the memory of your son, whom you loved above all else in this world? Yes, it does satisfy me, Gereon Alexius. Go now, and put your brilliant mind to better use.” With a nod to the guards flanking him, the former magister was taken away and out of the great hall.

Now came the most infuriating of all the crimes on today’s docket. “Bring forth the final prisoner,” Aloisia decreed, her voice cold and unyielding as she straightened her posture on the bench. For this matter, she needed to seem as regal as possible, and this would be a test as to how well she could pull that off on a simple block of wood instead of a throne.

Two guards brought in a man stripped of his arms and armor, his wrists manacled as he ranted and raved at his escorts, both of whom were elven women in Foundation uniforms. “This is an outrage!” he cried. “How dare you treat me like… Lady Blade!”

“You will be silent,” Aloisia commanded. “Ambassador Montilyet, if you would be so kind as to inform us all of why the accused stands before us today?”

“Of course, Lady Steward,” Josephine said, her voice and eyes taking on a steely resolve. “Jean-Gaspard de Lydes, you are a new recruit into the Foundation, and upon said recruitment, you expressed a desire to serve the people of Thedas, for which we welcomed you. However, allegations have been levied – and confirmed by multiple witnesses – of you drawing your sword and attempting to kill a fellow member of the Foundation. The charge is attempted murder. Do you wish to speak in your defense?”

Jean-Gaspard’s eyes went wide. “Attempted… This is ridiculous, Your Worship! If anyone should be on trial, it’s that damned rabbit who caused this whole mess in the first place!”

And there it was, in all its ugliness for all to see. “Let me be clear, prisoner. You are not to use such insults in this home that you were invited into. The woman in question is an elf. More than that, she is a person, as worthy of honor and respect as anyone. But please, tell us your side of the story. What happened that caused you to draw steel against your sister in fellowship?”

“What happened, you ask! The bitch made me look like a fool in front of my peers and her betters!” Jean-Gaspard yelled loudly, clearly not realizing how deep a hole he was digging himself. “I demanded that she give me an accounting of the Inquisition’s beginnings, and she ignored me! I took her by the hand and told her that she could not simply cast me aside, and she pulled away and caused me to fall on my face! In front of several noble lords and ladies of Orlais and Nevarra, no less! I could not let such an insult stand, and so I drew my blade to take my rightful vengeance. And then she ran, and I pursued, until your people took me and threw me in irons! And you are putting me on trial?! Where is the justice here?!”

“You will be silent, prisoner,” Aloisia hissed, not allowing herself to grant him the honor of hearing his name pass her lips. “We have heard one side of this story. Does the injured party have testimony to give of her account?”

Josephine stepped forward and brought forth a young elven woman, and a familiar one at that, all the while comforting her and whispering words of encouragement. “Y-your Worship! It wasn’t like that, I swear! Well, it sort of was, but I didn’t mean any harm by it, I promise!”

“I believe you, Tianna,” Aloisia said kindly. “I remember you tending to me when everything began, back in Haven. I don’t think I ever thanked you for looking after me back then. More than that, thank you for sticking with the Foundation, in spite of all of the hardships. But first, tell us all what happened between you and the prisoner, from your perspective.”

Tianna’s eyes went wide, and she bowed her head. “Th-thank you, Your Worship. I mean, yes. I was on messenger duty. Harritt needed some ram leather, and I was to pass the request onto the quartermaster. I was passing through the keep when the chevalier told me to tell him about the early days of the Inquisition. The Foundation, that is! But before it was the Foundation!”

“It’s all right, Tianna,” Aloisia said. “We understand just fine. Take a deep breath, and then continue at your own pace.”

After taking a few moments to collect herself, Tianna continued. “Thank you, my lady. I told the chevalier that I had duties to attend to, but he insisted that I answer him. I tried to excuse myself, but he grabbed me by the arm and tried to force me to stay put with him. I managed to wriggle free, and then he fell down, just as he said. And then he drew his sword, and I ran. Thank the Maker our soldiers managed to save me.”

Two things in particular struck Aloisia about Tianna’s words. First was her calling her protectors ‘our soldiers.’ It told Aloisia that Tianna truly saw herself as part of a larger community, and that the Foundation’s men and women in uniform were there to protect that community. Apart from that, however, there was an undeniable spike in fear whenever the word ‘chevalier’ passed her lips.

“Thank you for your testimony, Tianna. You’ve been a great help,” Aloisia said sincerely. “Before you go, however, I have one more thing I would like to ask of you, but I fear it may be difficult for you. I humbly ask that you try to master your fear and answer. And if you don’t believe you can do so, then no one will judge you for a legitimate fear.”

Tianna shook her head. “You’re here, Your Worship. I’ll be fine.”

Oh, how far this young woman had come from the cowering girl who had fled at Aloisia’s presence at the start of all this. “Thank you, Tianna. I couldn’t help but notice a distinct fear whenever you mentioned that Jean-Gaspard was a chevalier. Is there something about Orlesian knights that is so terrifying?”

“N-not for me, personally, Your Worship,” Tianna said, though she was clearly nervous. “But others – other elves in the Foundation, come from cities in Orlais – talk about the chevaliers’ initiation ritual, as they put it. Before they get that feather in their cap, they go into an alienage and… And they kill elves, Your Worship. We’re all guilty of something or other, or so they say, so it’s no crime. I don’t know if it’s all chevaliers, but it sounded like it.”

Reactions abound as Tianna confessed this bit of news, and Aloisia closed her eyes to sense the emotions all around her. Many were horrified by the barbarity, but several nobles were afraid for themselves. Orlesians who knew of the chevalier’s dirty secret, who knew of the custom that was never spoken of aloud, but was seen as a rite of passage to gain entry to the brotherhood that was the Chevaliers of Orlais. Josephine was in shock, and Aloisia wondered at just what other unsavory things had escaped the ambassador’s notice because she was too kind and decent to dig that deeply.

Aloisia narrowed her gaze and fixed her eyes on Jean-Gaspard, letting her anger come to the surface and flood the hall with the chill of the Dark Side of the Force. “Tell us, prisoner: is this an accurate summation of a chevalier’s initiation?”

Jean-Gaspard spat. “You expect me to betray my sworn brothers and sisters by giving any credence to such slander?”

Enough was enough, and Aloisia rose to her feet and stood at parade rest. “I think you misunderstood what you were signing up for when you committed yourself to the Foundation. You thought that it was about personal glory. Let me be clear. This Foundation exists to serve others. We do not seek to glorify ourselves, for that is the path to tyranny. We welcomed you into our family, Jean-Gaspard, and you not only demeaned your sister in fellowship, but you tried to murder her. This is more than attempted murder. It is attempted fratricide, and such a thing will never be allowed to go unpunished here.”

Aloisia raised her left hand and lifted Jean-Gaspard into the air, his legs flailing about as his arms moved as much as they could while shackled together. “For the murder you committed to earn your chevalier’s feather, I take from you your legs,” Aloisia said, summoning her lightsaber to her right hand and slicing his legs off just above the knee. Cries of fear could be heard, but Aloisia drowned them out. “For the attempted murder of Tianna of the Foundation of Fellowship, I take from you your arms.” Aloisia proceeded to sever one arm at the shoulder, and then the other, reveling in the panic that this foolish man was radiating.

“And for betraying the trust of the Foundation – for betraying my trust – after you were welcomed into our family… For this act of treason, I sentence you to death.” So saying, Aloisia lopped off Jean-Gaspard’s head before shutting off her lightsaber, and then clipping it back to her belt as she let the lifeless, limbless body fell to the ground.

“Let the word go forth!” Aloisia commanded, augmenting her voice with the Force. “Any chevalier who has joined the Inquisition will be required to confess to the crime of their initiation, and they will be given an opportunity to atone. If they forswear murder and needless cruelty, then they will be suffered to live so long as they commit their lives to the protection of all peoples, regardless of species or station. Those who are unrepentant will have revealed themselves to be traitors to everything the Foundation stands for, and will be dealt with accordingly.

“And beyond the Foundation, let the word go forth to the Orlesian Empire! The chevaliers are meant to be warriors of honor and chivalry, and if they are to be as such, then they must take all necessary steps to cease such acts of barbarism from this day until the end of days. I refuse to believe that the Maker condones such wanton slaughter. I most certainly do not. Today’s court is adjourned. If you will excuse me, I need to reflect on my actions and offer penance for my own sins. I bid you all a good day.”

Leliana had not been present when Aloisia had held court and passed down judgment, but she had very quickly heard of what had transpired. The Avvar chieftain was let go, and since no real harm had been done, Leliana was content to let the matter lie. Alexius broken and penitent – and having his own punishment for the mages turned against him – was a stroke of ironic genius. Jean-Gaspard de Lydes, however… His fate had been avoidable, and Leliana could only partially blame Aloisia. According to her agents keeping watch over the Steward, she had sought council with Mother Giselle after the humiliation and execution of Jean-Gaspard, and then she had retired to her room.

More than the fate of Jean-Gaspard was the pending fate of every other chevalier who had joined the Foundation, not to mention the harm to relations with Orlais that would inevitably come to pass. All the same, Leliana blamed herself more than she blamed Aloisia. It was her job to advise and to offer counsel, to prepare the Steward for possibilities that she might be ignorant of. In this, she had failed spectacularly. So once more, she made the trek up the stairs to Aloisia’s room. This time, she was under no delusions that anyone had acted unreasonably. No, this was her time to offer her own penance, and to offer her full counsel on all things Orlesian. With Empress Celene’s assassination a clear part of Corypheus’s plans, Aloisia could not afford the luxury of ignorance when the time came to negotiate with her.

Leliana knocked twice on the door and waited for an answer. She didn’t know if Aloisia would want to talk to anyone right now, and she was even less sure how she would feel about Leliana coming here again after what had happened the last time they’d spent time together in Aloisia’s room. The two of them had been trying to sort out their various feelings for one another, not to mention how Lana Beniko was involved in everything, and their time together had been cut short when Cole had interrupted. Not long after, Cassandra had come to Leliana, telling her that Aloisia had commanded her to repent to Leliana.

Leliana grinned at Aloisia’s wry sense of humor. Yes, by all means, send a fearful and penitent woman to her colleague who is known for her cunning and viciousness, all under the guise of her being a simple sister of the cloth. It would have been funnier if Cassandra hadn’t been truly so afraid, and the humor began to lessen with every confession that Cassandra laid out before her about her mistreatment of Varric in Marian Hawke’s own house. Leliana had known all about it, of course, but neither the Left nor the Right Hands of Divine Justinia were accustomed to being called out on anything they did in the name of the Chantry. There was no one to call them out, save for the Divine herself.

But Leliana did not answer to Dorothea anymore, though she respected her memory. As the door opened, Aloisia beckoned her in silently, still fully armored with both lightsaber hilts on her belt. Leliana walked past the threshold as Aloisia closed the door behind her before walking over to her bed and falling back on her rear, putting her face in her hands. “Go on, then,” she said to Leliana. “Tell me how I screwed up. Tell me how my anger got the better of me. Tell me how I probably escalated an already tense relationship with the Empress of Orlais into something worse. Just get it over with, please.”

Seeing Aloisia like this – blaming herself for doing what she thought was right and fearful of the consequences – it was painful to see. She needed support. She needed love. And Maker, Leliana truly was in love with Aloisia Kallig, wasn’t she? How long had she felt this way without fully realizing it? It didn’t matter. Leliana sat down beside the woman she loved and held her in a warm embrace. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Aloisia,” Leliana reassured her. “You made choices, and we’ll deal with the consequences of them. But you haven’t failed anyone, Aloisia. I am the one who has failed you. It is my job to prepare you for things like this, and I’ve done a disastrous job of it, I’m afraid.”

Aloisia sat up straight and pulled herself out of Leliana’s embrace. “You knew,” she said, the accusation clear in her eyes even if she was too tired to get it into her voice. “You knew what it takes for someone to become a chevalier. And you didn’t think I needed to know?”

Leliana sighed, knowing that there was no good answer to this, so she would settle for the truth. “I did think you would need to know, but I didn’t think we would need to have such a talk just yet.”

“You were right. This should have been something you told me before I set one foot inside Orlesian territory,” Aloisia said, and Leliana felt the pain of those words, because she knew them to be true. “I can’t deal with what I don’t know, and if we’re to prevent Orlais from falling into chaos, I need to know what to expect at this masquerade that we are to attend. So tell me, Leliana, about this ‘Great Game,’ I keep hearing mention of, but little true knowledge.”

Leliana wanted to tread carefully here, oh so very much. But Aloisia Kallig was a remarkably intelligent woman who could – supposedly – see into her mind if she decided that the knowledge was worth the violation. But no, Leliana had withheld enough of Orlais’s darker side, and she did not want Aloisia to venture into that viper’s nest without being properly armed. For the Steward of the Foundation – and for someone she loved – she would be entirely honest.

“Are you familiar with Wicked Grace?” Leliana asked.

“The card game, you mean? I’ve played a few rounds, but I have trouble keeping track of the various suits. I’m already used to sabacc. It’s a similar game played on many worlds across the galaxy. Cards, winning hands, losing hands, gambling. Or is there something specific to Wicked Grace that I’m missing?”

Leliana shook her head. “A game where you need to keep your cards close to your chest and outwit your opponents with either a good hand or else a bluff, the exact game doesn’t matter. What matters is that the Great Game is often referred to as ‘Wicked Grace, played to the death.’ Your cards are the secrets you possess. The gambles are when to expose a secret – your own or someone else’s – and when you expose it and to whom. And, of course, whether or not the secret itself is real or not.”

“Sounds familiar,” Aloisia said, almost growled. “Tell me of the players and of the stakes.”

“Every nobleman and noblewoman in Orlais is a player, as are many in the clergy, especially among the senior ranks,” Leliana explained. “The stakes are power and prestige. Sometimes that takes the form of recognition for outplaying someone else. Sometimes it is land or other property. Sometimes it is a noble title. The peace talks at Halamshiral will simply be shifting the War of the Lions from a martial battlefield to the Great Game. Even the gesture of hosting the talks is a gambit. Both sides are weary of war, both sides are losing the trust and support of the people. Peace is a winning play, but Celene gains an advantage merely by moving the venue to one she excels at rather than a field where Gaspard would likely win in the end.”

“Let’s get back to the stakes,” Aloisia said. “Power, prestige, property, noble titles. To the victor go the spoils, but what happens to the defeated? Public shame? Vassalage?”

“Becoming a vassal to another while maintaining a level of nobility is definitely a defeat, and you will never be allowed to forget it. But in relinquishing such power yourself, you gain a defender in the one who defeated you. At least in theory, assuming they don’t use you as a bargaining chip. Sometimes, a vassal can be the prize at stake. I imagine in your homeland, such things are different. In Orlais, however, the Game is the unwritten law of the land. As for public shame… Most would seek what they see as an honorable death to expunge such shame. Better to die than to live as a laughingstock.”

Aloisia snorted. “Remind me to get in touch with Alphonse de Mont de Glace when there is time. I need to speak to him about the events that happened at Vivienne de Fer’s salon. I’m guessing there is a lot of context that I missed at the time that I would learn the truth of the matter. And what of the common men, women, and children who do not play the Great Game? Are they cards to be held by players? Or are they stakes to be wagered and forfeited?”

“They are both,” Leliana said simply. “What do you think Celene and Gaspard see in the men and women fighting for them so that they might lay claim to the throne? Means to an end. Sometimes a little bit more, but not often.”

Aloisia turned to look Leliana in the eyes, and there was no anger there, nor outrage. There was only sadness. “The Left Hand of the Divine… You were merely one of Justinia’s pieces on the game board, weren’t you? A very powerful piece, to be sure, capable of making use of pawns on your own, but you yourself were both a player and a pawn in the Great Game, and that was the sum of your job as Left Hand of the Divine, wasn’t it? And that is how you see your job with the Foundation now, isn’t it?”

Leliana physically recoiled at the horrible, ugly words that had just been uttered, but she wasn’t angry at Aloisia. No, how could she be angry at someone who looked at her with such sadness? No, it wasn’t sadness. It was pity, and the thought of that did make Leliana angry. She was more to Dorothea than just a pawn. Leliana was more than just another player of the game. She was really helping people with the Foundation. It had been Dorothea’s last wish, and Leliana was seeing it through.

Only it wasn’t Justinia who Leliana was doing all of this good with. No, she was working alongside Aloisia. Justinia had tried to work towards peace, but the Conclave itself… Maker, it was barely different than what Celene had done. Justinia had been losing control of the situation, so she had moved it to a venue where she would have more control. And if that was the case, then what was the Divine, really? The Chantry was deeply flawed, she knew. Its leaders were mere mortals. And before the Conclave, Leliana had acted mostly as an agent of Justinia’s as a proxy in the Great Game where the Divine herself could not go. But Leliana had known that Dorothea had a worldly past. It was part of what drew them together in the first place. She would not believe that their relationship was no more than that of a player and a pawn.

“I might have been little more than a player of the Game before I met you, Aloisia,” Leliana confessed. “Not anymore. I will play the Game if need be, but I will do so to further the Foundation’s needs.”

Aloisia hung her head. “I don’t think you truly understand how I feel, Leliana. When I look at your Great Game, all I see is needless cruelty from those who are too rich and too complacent to know what true hardship is like. I see gluttonous fiends hoarding wealth and secrets, and I see them doing so at the expense of people’s lives. You just admitted that all of the soldiers dying for a throne are mere pawns. What kind of ruler sees their subjects as tools to be used and discarded? My former Emperor, for one. He built two empires to serve and to worship him, just because he had the power to do so. Both of those empires became cults that worshipped him and were willing to lay down their lives if he decided to order it so. At the very least, those empires didn’t have an entire caste of nobles throwing lives away. It was only ever one very powerful man whose rule could not be contested. And speaking of which, why is the throne of Orlais even in contest at all?”

“That is a very complicated topic. Grand Duke Gaspard has long believed himself entitled to the throne of Orlais, as he was arguably next in line to inherit it when the previous Emperor passed away. Celene outplayed him with the Council of Heralds, however, who handle disputes over royal titles. And there is the fact that Gaspard holds great sway with the Orlesian military, who see Celene as weak for seeking peace with Ferelden and Nevarra.

“You should also be aware of a third party that will be at the negotiations. Briala of Halamshiral, an elf who my sources say was Celene’s lover for a time while she served as one of her handmaidens. Halamshiral is the one city in Orlais – perhaps in all of Thedas – where elves make up the majority of the populace, even if they are still deeply impoverished and mistreated. Grand Duke Gaspard commissioned a play based on the life of Andraste, only to depict Shartan not only as a woman, but Andraste's lover.  Celene was in the audience, and so was I as an agent of the Divine.  It was an effective declaration that the Empress of Orlais had an elven lover.  You and I may not see anything wrong with such a thing, but to many, it might as well be blasphemy.  At the time, the elves of Halamshiral were organizing to rebel after a nobleman killed an innocent elf without cause.  Sadly, such things are hardly uncommon, but this was the spark that lit the tinder that had long been piling up."

And now, Leliana had to force herself to look back and confront her own role in that sordid affair.  She might not have truly made a difference one way or another, but she couldn't say that with any certainty.  "I delivered a message to Celene on Justinia's behalf.  Celene had petitioned Justinia for aid in quelling the rising tensions between the mages and the Templars to avoid even more bloodshed in Orlais.  The Empress asked if Justinia intended to keep her word, and I relayed that she did intend to work for such a peace.  In return, however, Celene would need to resolve the tensions with the elves within her own borders.” Leliana let out a breath and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she could blind herself to the shame she felt. “Celene's solution was to march her armies into Halamshiral and to utterly crush the rebellion.  What happened next in all of the chaos is not quite so clear to me, but suffice it to say, Briala is no longer Celene's lover, and is working to better the standing of the elves of Orlais."  Leliana opened her eyes once more.  "I remember telling Celene that I believed the elves were just as much the Maker's children as anyone else, and I remember Celene challenging me by saying that such words would never be heard from the lips of the Divine."  Leliana let out a sigh and bowed her head.  "The state of Orlais is very complicated after so many centuries of history, not to mention the machinations of the Game.  I think it would be best if I compiled a series of documents for you to review at your leisure.  Perhaps a few such series."

“Yes, I think that is long overdue, Leliana,” Aloisia said as she rose to her feet and began to pace the room. Finally she stopped and turned to look down at Leliana. “You have a choice to make, spymaster. This Great Game of yours… It is the height of barbarism. It is gluttony and avarice and sloth run rampant at the expense of real lives. To the nobility of Orlais, the lives of others are of no concern. From everything you can tell me, Orlais suffers from an overabundance of apathy. There is an ancient text I read once, and scholars in both the Republic and the Empire cannot determine if the author was a Jedi or a Sith, but said author spoke very clearly of the cost of ignoring the world around you. ‘Apathy is death.’ Apathy was the death of Zakuul after I killed its Emperor. Apathy was nearly the death of the Jedi when they turned a blind eye to the slaughter of their people long before I was born. Apathy is killing Orlais, and Corypheus will only speed up the process. The Great Game is an expression of pure apathy.

“So I tell you again, Leliana, you have a choice in front of you. You can play the Great Game, or you can serve the Foundation. You cannot do both. Anyone who plays your ‘Great Game,’ who treats the lives of others like playthings… I cannot see such a person as anything but a scourge in need of cleansing. Now go and take some time to think things over, Leliana, but the Great Game is apathy, and apathy is death. I will not allow Thedas to die so long as I can help it. Now please leave me be. I need to think, and I need to rest.”

Leliana silently got up and walked to the door of Aloisia’s room, exited and closed the door behind her, and then began to hyperventilate as the full impact of Aloisia’s ultimatum began to hit her. The Great Game or the Foundation. Orlais or Justinia’s final wish. A past with Dorothea or a future with Aloisia. Impossible choices, and yet they were one and the same. And yet there really was no choice when she thought of it in that last pairing. The Great Game was in the past, and the Foundation would be the future.

Leliana would commit herself to the Foundation, and she would do so as fully and as completely as she could. And while Aloisia hadn’t said as much in so many words, Leliana was terrified that between the two of them, they had just signed a death warrant for the Empire of Orlais. Maker, forgive me for the path I have set us upon. May it lead us unto something other than utter ruin.

Chapter Text

After millennia spent slumbering in uthenera, and after spending much of just the past year alone (save for the rare interaction with an unknowing agent) Solas found himself once again cursing himself for his own presumptuousness.  He had thought that he could will himself to feel more comfortable during the current journey to Crestwood with the Steward – an Inquisitor with a gentler title – and a good number of her companions.  Alas, he still found himself tested by greatly varying quality in the value that they all brought with them into the world.  So much of these sad excuses for people...  It was all his fault, and Solas was having a harder time than he imagined he would keeping his composure.  He had let some of his true self slip from time to time, and he feared that Aloisia Kallig had picked up on at least some of it, and now she very probably found him wanting.

As for her companions...  The Iron Bull was just an unthinking barbarian, but that was true of all Qunari. At the very least, Solas could content himself in knowing that Aloisia had the self-admitted spy here at her side if only to avoid suspicion that she was alienating him. His mercenary company, at least, had not surrendered the freedom of thier own thoughts, and they were busy investigating the Templar’s base at Therinfall Redoubt in an attempt to learn more about the Red Templars.  Solas had his suspicions, but he did not want to speculate.  If he was right, then the Red Templars were something that should never have been, and he would happily join Aloisia in exterminating them.

As for Blackwall, he was very obviously not the Grey Warden that he claimed to be, and he seemed to have overly romanticized notions about what the Wardens truly were.  In spite of this, he did try to live up to those romanticized notions, and romantic ideals were only labeled as such due to their nobility of purpose. For a human, he was was not the most unpleasant company, but neither did Solas believe he could find anything in common with such an unimpressive specimen of humanity, even by the standards of humankind.

Cole, however, was simply marvelous! A spirit given human form, and without taking a host! Solas had not seen such a thing since before he had erected the Veil, and it was pure delight simply to know him. Solas believed Cole to be a spirit of compassion, and if he was right, then that made him all the more precious for how rare such beings were. And it was a very large comfort that Aloisia Kallig treated him with not only general respect, but with a genuine appreciation for who and what he was.  It gave him some small hope that she would make the world a better, gentler place before the time came for him to enact his plans.

On the opposite side of the spectrum from Cole was Sera, who was still the living, walking insult that she had always been. What made the insult even worse was that Aloisia seemed to go out of her way to treat the child with more care and respect than she did for almost anyone else, certainly more than she did to him. Then again, after his intrusion on her sanctuary in the Fade, Solas wondered just how much Aloisia knew about him.  She already kept a certain distance from him, and he was almost certain that she had found crumbling ruin where his ‘home’ should have been. Not personally, no, but Leliana's spies would most certainly have told her. All the same, none of that explained why Sera was worth so much respect when she had the attitude of a child and the proud ignorance to match!

And then there was Varric, who was likely only tagging along because this trip also played host to Marian Hawke, the infamous Champion of Kirkwall. Varric did not act like any dwarf that Solas had ever known, and it drove him up the metaphorical wall.  Dwarves were dwarves, and they ought to act as such, but Varric had some foolish notion that surface dwarves were different from their kin beneath the ground. Giving it another moment of thought, Solas realized that he could hardly fault Varric for his ignorance.  His kind could not touch the Fade, but there was also all of the damage that Solas had done on his own with the Veil and all that it had wrought.

As for Hawke herself, the Fade had told Solas many things about this woman, and Solas felt mildly sorry for the poor girl in his own way. She had been a refugee, losing her home and her sister to the Blight, only to find even more hardship in the City of Chains. Before long, otherwise disparate individuals people began to flock to her side, her sly and smiling persona making her easily approachable. She had just been a simple woman trying to get by while history was taking shape all around her. In some small ways, she reminded Solas of himself before he had decided to stop standing by and to finally do something when the Evanuris went too far.  Both of them had been surrounded by cruelty, and circumstances had forced change upon the world with each of them at its epicenter.  For his part, Solas has been actively trying to enact radical change, and Marian Hawke was simply the eye around which the storm began, and even now continued to engulf the world.

Looking at all of them together, they were a very odd group.  Under normal circumstances, it was likely that no one here would have ever met one another, let alone united behind a common cause. But like Marian Hawke, Aloisia Kallig had a gravity to her, her personality pulling everyone around her closer together. And the Blade of the Maker – the title would stick despite her own wishes – was a danger to Solas and his plans. Even if she were to suddenly die (again, he reminded himself), who was he to say that she might not come back (again)? And what of the organization she had built? Killing Aloisia might be worse than leaving her around. Dead would make her a martyr, and holy crusades would follow with all their horror. Alive, she might do some manner of good, if not the kind of good that Solas wanted to achieve in all the glory he intended.  Again, he reminded himself, that it was possible that Aloisia could offer the world a small reprieve before his plans came to fruition.

Right now, they were all on their way to meet Hawke's unknown ally in the Grey Wardens. Before that, however, they had to deal with a rift at the bottom of a lake, spewing forth demons that were possessing corpses beneath the water that were now terrorizing the denizens of Crestwood. And getting to that rift meant getting to the controls for a dam, which were in the middle of a keep that was occupied by bandits. So it was that they moved towards their current goal, one step at a time.

Something stirred at the edge of Solas’s perception, and he recognized… Yes! It was a spirit!  Not a demon as humans would judge such things, but a spirit stuck in this world, unable to pass back into the Fade without help. This, at least, was a cause that he believed he and Aloisia could agree to aid, at least her interactions with Cole were any indication. “Aloisia,” he called to her. “Do you see that glow over there, in the husk of that burned out house? I believe it may be a spirit that cannot move on. Not a demon, to be clear, but a spirit untainted by the shock of this world, just wanting to return home to the Fade.”

With a nod from their leader, the group set off towards the gathering of rotted-out buildings that had most likely once been a town.  Aloisia turned to Solas and said, "I’ll need to remember how keen elven eyesight is. Thank you, Solas. Let’s go see if we can lend a hand, shall we?”

“Lend a hand?” Iron Bull echoed, his voice in disbelief. “You want to help out a demon, boss?”

“No, I want to help a spirit,” Aloisia corrected, to Solas's plesant surprise. “Assuming, of course, that it is a spirit and not a demon. And yes, there is a difference. If Solas and I are wrong about its nature, or else if it turns into a demon, then we will fight, but not unless forced to. Am I clear?”

Iron Bull sighed, as if giving in, but Solas knew that the Qun would not allow him to forget this about Aloisia and her Foundation. Bull's superiors might have already decided to turn on the Foundation, given its stance towards magic.  If so, it was merely a matter of time.

“Just so we’re straight, you want to talk to it, right?” Sera said. “I mean, you’re the bloody Blade of the Maker, so, do what you do. Oh, shite! You don’t like being called that anymore! So sorry, Your Bladeyship. No! That’s all wrong, too!”

Sera was right that Aloisia did not like that title, which made it even more perplexing when Aloisia laughed in what looked to be genuine good humor. “I know what you mean, Sera. It’s all right. We’ll get there, even if it takes time. And yes, I’m going to try talking to it. But if it decides to fight us instead, then you get to use your arrows, okay?”

Sera nodded and acknowledged that yes, she was fine with that. Solas bit his tongue to avoid causing a scene, but he would need to watch out for Iron Bull and Sera put together. Not that Sera would ever fit in with the Qun, but expose her enough to the false persona the Ben-Hassrath agent put forward, and there could be serious trouble, or at the very least serious mischief.

The group approached the building, and Aloisia began to venture inside before looking back at her companions. “Anyone care to join me?”

“I’m staying put right here, waiting for something to go wrong, boss,” Iron Bull said.

“Yeah. What he said,” Sera agreed.

“I think I’ve had enough of the Fade for at least three and a half lifetimes,” Hawke said. “I’ll sit this one out.”

“I’m hiding behind Hawke,” Varric said.

“You just want to stare at my ass, don’t you, Varric?”

“I like you, Hawke, but humans don’t do it for me. I know, I know. The one person in the world who doesn’t fall for your devilish charms.”

“Ugh, that’s enough!” Blackwall said. “We came to get help with the Wardens. Spirits, demons, whatever. They lie. I’ll stay here, thank you.”

“I want to come!” Cole said with childlike glee.

“As do I,” Solas said. “Let us go and speak with this spirit. I wonder what its nature might be that has allowed it to persist for so long.”

“Let’s find out,” Aloisia said as she stepped into the dilapidated husk of what might have once been a house. “And just what aspect might you represent, I wonder?” she said to the spirit, a person-shaped visage that shimmered with light the color of fire.

“What aspect? What aspect?!” it said, sounding affronted. “Who are you to question me, mortal?”

“You want to know who I am. Very well, spirit," Aloisia said, and she straightened her posture and affixed the spirit with a firm glare. "I am Aloisia Kallig, once a slave, but no longer. For years I have been a leader of men and women. I have been called many names. I am the Blade of the Maker. I am the Steward of the Foundation. I am the Commander of Alliances, and I have tasted death and found it wanting. I much prefer this world, which I imagine you find quite perplexing, and I now extend to you and offer to help you to gain a clearer understanding. Need I go on?”

“You! You understand!” the spirit said with what might have been joy! “You and I are embodiments of each other. I am Command, and you are the Commander! So you can understand how enraging it is when this world does not obey me when I order it to do so!”

“Only too well,” Aloisia said. “The problem is not one that mere willpower can overcome, I’m afraid. You are a spirit from the Fade, which is shaped by will. This world, however, is a thing of matter, not thought. To shape it… Actually, Cole?  How did you take your current shape? You were - forgive me, you are - a spirit who managed to take a physical form. It’s quite amazing, but how did you do it?”

“I… I don’t know,” Cole confessed. “It’s hard to remember when I went from unreal to real. Pain, loneliness, fading in but not out. Why can’t I remember…?”

Solas had no words to speak, but this entire exchange was fascinating to behold. A spirit of command would be resilient enough to hold onto its sense of self, but for such a spirit to see itself and Aloisia as embodiments of each other said a great deal about both of them, though far more about Aloisia given that she was not a spirit embodying any given aspect.

“Nonsense!” Command insisted. “If something as weak and frail as Compassion can manage this feat, then what is there to bar Command? I need to take a form such as this to command this world? Then I will do so. Compassion! Share with me what you know. I will have it!”

“It’s all right,” Cole said. “I don’t know how I did it, but you can look inside of me if you like. I’m not sure if I’m real enough for you to do it right, but if you can, and if it will help, then you can look.”

“Hmph. At least you have the sense to obey. And don’t look at me so, Commander. We are the same. I cannot command you any more than you can command me. It is not what we are. Now, Compassion, let me see… And then you… Ah, I see. Not even your intention, was it? No matter. If you can gain form by accident, then I can surely will myself into being.”

“What?” Solas said before he caught himself. Cole’s current form was an accident that he couldn’t recall? And Command meant to emulate him?! Of course it did. It was Command, and it wouldn’t take refusal lying down, even when it came in the form of nature itself.

And so Solas found his eyes widen and his heart quicken when the flaming silhouette of Command began to… It began to take shape! It’s form became more human, and then it began to solidify, and then it began to bend itself outwards, like a sculpture shaping itself in reverse. Color came next, followed by texture, and Solas found his jaw hanging open in amazement.

Aloisia Kallig folded her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow, though she was clearly biting back a laugh. “You don’t only look solid, but you look quite stunning, if I do say so myself.” Aloisia bent down and picked up a small rock and held it in her outstretched hand. “Take this rock and do with it what you like. Pick it up, put it down, throw it, keep it, or anything else. Whatever you want to do with this form, you can. I will warn you, however, that while we may be embodiments of each other, we are not the same person, so I will not have you commanding what is rightfully mine, no matter how you may appear to untrained eyes and ears.”

It was a rightful concern, for Command's form was no longer a flickering specter, but now possessed the shape and form of Aloisia Kallig as its own. It took the rock from her hand and examined it. Solas wondered what must be going through Command’s thoughts, interacting with the physical world for the first time.

And then Solas was surprised again when Command held out its hand and the rock lifted upwards of its own accord. No, not of its own accord. Command has gained access to whatever strange magic it is that Kallig possesses!

“Remarkable,” Command said in Aloisia’s voice, and then looked at its shape-sake in disappointment. “Don’t look at me like that! You merely touch the Force. I am a being of the Force itself. It is not so difficult to wield oneself, is it?”

Aloisia chuckled at that. “No, that would be quite silly of me. And you, Command… You are spectacular! A marvel to behold! You now have a form to do with as you please in this world. And should you grow tired of this world, then you can relinquish it and return to the Fade.”

“I can sense your worry, Commander. There is no need to hide it from me. You fear I will usurp command of that which is yours. But it is as you said, we are embodiments of each other, but we are not one and the same. I am content having a form that is as much alike to me as can be, and I will be content with the things I see in your mind that you take for granted. Walking, talking, yawning, crying, sleeping, touching, smelling… All of these abilities, these sensations, all mine to command! And just as I must be wary, I warn you to be cautious as well, Commander. Command can be turned to Tyranny if turned to darker purposes. I refuse to let Tyranny master me. Do not let it master you, Commander.”

“I’ve looked down temptation and fear again and again, but I will remain vigilant. It would be the height of folly and arrogance to do otherwise,” Aloisia replied.

“You understand. I am glad to have known you, Commander Aloisia Kallig. You there! Elf!”

Solas straightened up suddenly and looked at Command. “What would you have of me, Command?”

“Learn from the Commander! She knows the dangers that you have long since decided were beneath your notice.”

“What do you speak of, Command?” Aloisia asked, and Solas was suddenly very afraid.

“He is hard to read.  Like the boy that Compassion thinks it is, and yet not alike.  The elf reminds me of Senya, for good and for ill. Let that knowledge be a parting gift, a thanks for showing me the way into this world. I am off to command this world to my liking, and you must do the same.”

“Yes, I must. Do enjoy your time in this world, Command. And thank you for reminding me of those simple things that I take for granted. It is refreshing to be reminded that such things are not guarantees.”

“Yes, yes. Now I am off to UGH! This wall does not let me pass!”

Aloisia chuckled. “Yes, it’s a wall. Walls are built to block passage. You could try the door, or if you want to make the wall obey you, it’s frail enough that you could kick it down.”

“There is an easier way,” Command said, and it stretched out its hand and telekinetically shattered the damp wooden walls. “And now, I will take myself away from here.”

Solas waited for Aloisia to confront him, to tell him who Senya is or was, but she ignored him and stepped through the hole in the wall that Command had created moments ago. Solas exited through the door to see confusion on everyone’s faces as they processed what they had just seen.

“So, here’s a riddle for the ages,” Hawke said. "The Blade of the Maker walks through a door, but two of her walk back out. Which one is real? Or is it both, or neither?”

“Gotta say, I’m disappointed, boss,” Iron Bull said.

“And why is that, Bull?” Aloisia asked with a dangerously sweet smile on her face.

“So far, I’ve been trying to make sense of why you’re leading this Inquisition, Foundation, whatever. Everyone I ask tells me that you perform miracles, but that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a good leader. And you just let a demon walk away from you, wearing your face?”

“Not a demon, Bull,” Kallig explained cheerfully. “A spirit of command that couldn’t understand why this world wouldn’t obey it. I thought of Cole, and how he took human form, and so Command did the same. It chose to look like me, because it thought itself and I were embodiments of each other. You have it straight from the source. I am an embodiment of command. Do we really need to debate the point? Or do I need to ask you what you mean whenever you address me? What am I to you, Bull? Boss, or bas?”

Solas felt very cold all of a sudden, even colder than the dark and wet weather had him feeling already. For his part, Iron Bull let out a raucous laugh. “For now? Both, I guess, but more boss than bas for the time being. If everything goes well, that won’t change.”

As the group got on with their trek towards the fortress with the bandits, Solas couldn’t help but wonder if Iron Bull was a fool for tempting fate, or if he did so with purpose. At the very least, Aloisia wasn’t underestimating the Qunari.

Unfortunately, Solas was left in a position of ignorance that he was not accustomed to. More than just this Senya person he did not know, Command spoke of Kallig as ‘Commander,’ and Aloisia herself had declared herself a ‘Commander of Alliances.’ She had spoken of commanding alliances, plural. The question continued to haunt him. Who and what was Aloisia Kallig?

After two days of trekking and toiling throughout Crestwood and the surrounding area, the lake was drained, the rift sealed, and some semblance of normality was returning to this one small part of Thedas. With Caer Bronach under Foundation control – at least until it could be remanded back to Ferelden – and without undead attacking the populace, the way was finally clear to seek out Hawke’s friend in the Grey Wardens, whose identity Hawke seemed to take great delight in keeping secret.

And so as they made their trek with Hawke as their guide, Aloisia listened to her companions ruminate on the erstwhile Mayor of Crestwood, who had apparently flooded the village just over a decade ago rather than risk the Darkspawn spreading to threaten innocents elsewhere. It was a terrible choice with no good answer, only bad options and worse options. In the course of conversation, Aloisia expressed her admiration for Dedrick’s courage, only to be set upon by Blackwall and Sera.

“You think it’s good that all those people died?” Sera asked, her voice loud with shock. “That’s just… It’s wrong, is what it is!”

“That’s exactly right, Sera,” Blackwall agreed. “For what he did… We’ve seen Wardens patrolling around here, seem to be looking for Hawke’s friend. But they should be looking for Dedrick and bring him to justice.”

There, that was it. If Blackwall was going to continue this charade, then he should at least have the decency to do it properly. As things were going currently, he was starting to become a liability. “All right, people," Aloisia said. "We’re taking a break. Everyone, take some time to grab a drink, grab a bite, take a piss, whatever. Blackwall, walk with me. We need to talk.”

Blackwall just sighed. “Look, I’m sorry if I was out of line, but-“

“Did I stutter?” Aloisia said, her voice rising. “We are taking a break, and you are coming to talk with me in private, Blackwall. Am I understood?”

“Yeah, we got you, boss,” Iron Bull said. “Take five, everyone. I think the boss just needs to sort some things out with Blackwall.”

“Coming from anyone else, that’d sound like common sense,” Varric said. “Coming from you, I’m suddenly nervous.”

“There’s no need for anyone to be nervous,” Aloisia said as she turned to Blackwall with a predatory grin. “No need to worry at all, is there, Warden Blackwall?”

“No,” he said as sweat began to form on his brow. “No need at all. You wanted a word in private, Your Worship.”

“I would. Please follow me. The rest of you, kindly keep your distance and wait for us to get back. If you try to sneak up to listen, don’t say I didn’t warn you if you suddenly find yourself shocked with lightning.”

“What if I like that kind of thing?” Hawke asked with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Then I’ll hurl a rock at your head instead. Put you into naptime while the adults are talking.”

“Varriiic! The Steward’s being mean!” Hawke whined to her friend.

“I know, Hawke. You’ll get used to it,” Varric ‘comforted’ Hawke.

“Ugh. Solas, you are quite possibly some sort of mature adult, yes? Please make sure nobody does anything stupid while I am away for a few moments?”  Aloisa hated trusting Solas with anything, but hopefully this wouldn't prove world-shaking just yet.

“I will try, but children are always prone to misbehavior and mischief,” Solas replied with what might have been an actual smile.

Aloisia couldn't help but chuckle in spite of all of her distrust of Solas. Command had told her that he was like Senya. Senya, who had pledged herself to Aloisia’s alliance to bring her own children to justice for their crimes against the galaxy.  Senya, who had absconded with one of those children when the time came for him to answer for his crimes. Senya, who served an ideal of justice but turned a blind eye when the criminal was someone she loved, even when she had explicitly claimed to want those same loved ones to face justice. Aloisia thought she understood what Command was trying to say. Solas's goals were his own, and any alliance with the Foundation was a temporary alliance of convenience, and he would betray them all for the sake of his own goals. Who or what it was that he cared about enough to betray Aloisia, she did not know yet.

Whomever or whatever Solas might be, he did possess a level head on his shoulders most of the time. While he was a definite concern, he was not necessarily an immediate one. That left Blackwall. “Follow me,” she said as she led the false warden down a hill and under the shadow of a small rock outcropping. “Sit or stand or lean. I don’t care which. And then tell me why you’re still pretending to be a Grey Warden. I’ve put up with it for this long, but we’re about to meet a real Warden soon, and if you’re not acting like one, then you will be called out at the worst possible moment, and I cannot afford to have all of our efforts undermined because you have some sort of psychological complex. So out with it. Make your case now, or leave the Foundation forever. Your choice.”

Blackwall sighed. “How long have you known?”

“Since I met King Alistair. He actually is a Grey Warden. The Blight is in his blood. I can sense it in him as surely as I can in any darkspawn, blighted animal, or red Templar. I sense nothing of the sort in you. And beyond that, you’ve been sloppy with your supposed knowledge of what Grey Wardens really are. ‘In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilance. In Death, Sacrifice.’ The Blight is the only war that matters to the Wardens, and it must be fought against with every tool at their disposal. Flooding a town to stop the spread of the Blight?

“I don’t have to be a Warden to know that leaders have to make hard choices, often ones that don’t give the chooser the luxury of a clean conscience. How long would it have taken to separate the diseased from the healthy? How long would it take to erect and maintain a quarantine? How many others might be infected in the process, and then go on to spread the Blight even further? Gregory Dedrick killed those men, women, and children, and he’ll have to answer to the Maker one day, not to mention his own conscience. But I’ve no doubt it’s what a Grey Warden would have done. It’s what I would have done.

“But it seems you have me at a disadvantage. You know quite a bit about me, but I know very little about you. Now that I think on it, Blackwall is a very well-known Warden, presumably a real one, which means you not only lied about being a Warden, but about your very identity. You seem to want to be a hero to the downtrodden. You want to be a romantic fairy tale prince, but that’s not what the Grey Wardens are. So you will tell me here and now who you are and what you are. Start talking.”

The mystery man hung his head and let out a breath, as if he had been holding in a great burden and was now finally letting it go. “I wasn’t a good man for a long time. I was a mercenary of mild repute and no ambition to do much good at all. Then he found me, the real Warden Blackwall. He saw something in me and wanted to recruit me for the Wardens. I still don’t know what it was that he might have seen in me, but he inspired me to be better than I had been. We were in the Deep Roads, and he sent me to get a vial of Darkspawn blood. I was ambushed, and he died saving my life.

“The kindness he showed me, the good he inspired in me… I’d earned none of it, but he’d made a difference in my life, and I didn’t want his efforts to die with him. So I took his name and pretended to be a Warden recruiter, helping out ordinary people here and there, never staying in one place for long. He was a good man, and I just wanted to keep that good going. That’s all there is, I promise.”

“No,” Aloisia said, sensing that this wasn’t the whole story. “That’s not the whole story. What aren’t you telling me? And what should I even call you? Who are you, really?”

“The man I was before… I was not a good man. I killed people. I ordered people to kill people, and then I fled from justice. I was barely eking out a living when Blackwall found me, and the rest of it is as I told you. As for what to call me… I don’t like the man I was before, and I’ve been answering to Blackwall for years now. But the truth of the matter is that I’m a coward who tricked himself into believing he could be something better.”

And there it was at last. Aloisia was finally convinced that she had the whole truth of the man calling himself Blackwall. And now she had a problem on her hands. Whomever he used to be, the Blackwall standing before her was a well-known entity in the Foundation. He was not a real Grey Warden, and so she could not under any circumstances bring him to meet anyone else who could easily see through his disguise. What was she to do with him?

“Here is what we will do," Aloisia said after a minute of silent contemplation. "You will go back to Skyhold under Sera's guard, and then you will seek out Sister Nightingale and tell her your complete story. You will answer every question that she asks in full, and you will tell her the name you had before you assumed Blackwall’s identity. I can’t afford taking you to meet a real Warden when you can’t even pass as one convincingly to a non-Warden such as myself. Sera will make sure that you neither lose your way nor attempt to flee. And if I return to Skyhold and discover that you and Sera didn’t make it… There are many places to hide in Thedas, but I hold a special, burning hatred in my heart for traitors.  For such a malicious act, I will hold a grudge until I look the perpetrator in the eye and end them.  It will be personal.  Have I made myself clear?”

“Clear as glass, Your Worship,” he said, and Aloisia could sense that he meant it, too. “When do you want me to set out?”

“Right now. Come on, let’s get back to the others,” she said.

And with that, they walked back up the hill and towards their companions. Sera, Cole, and Solas looked on as Hawke, Varric, and Iron Bull looked to be playing Wicked Grace while sitting on the ground. “Who’s winning?” Aloisia asked.

“Who do you think?” Iron Bull asked with a deep chuckle.

“Yeah, because the Qunari spy swindling us out of our… What were we betting with, again?”

“Pride, Varric,” Hawke answered. “And I am content in keeping my pride intact. There’s nothing to be lost against a Qunari who clearly has an eyepatch that can see through the backs of my cards."

“That? That’s nothing,” Aloisia said with a smile as a fond memory came to mind. “One day, remind me to tell you the story about how a professional con artist beat a mind-reading mage at cards.”

“You… You’re shitting me, boss,” Bull said.

“Nope. No shit to be found here, unless one of you made it,” Aloisia said. “Sera, new job for you. I’m afraid you don’t get to come with us to meet Hawke’s friend right now.”

“Well, that ain’t fair. Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes, I do trust you. I trust you very much,” Aloisia said. “But Blackwall’s told me some things that make me not sure if I can trust him, so I want him to go back to Skyhold so he can talk to Sister Nightingale, and I want to make sure he gets there without trying to run away. And I’m asking you to make sure he gets there – alive and unharmed – because this is important, and I want someone I trust to make sure he gets to Skyhold safe and sound.”

Sera shook her head. “No, no, that can’t be right. Blackwall’s a good guy. And he’s a Warden, too, so-“

“No, Sera. He’s not a Grey Warden. He lied about that. So you see why I don’t trust him.”

“Varric,” Hawke said quietly. “Please grab hold of me as tight as you can. I don’t want to accidentally murder the man who pretended to be a Warden before I brought him in front of a very real Warden who I trust a great deal, and it will be harder to do that if you’re holding me back.”

“Well, at the very least, I’m glad to see you’re not quite so gullible as I’d feared,” Solas said.

“So, you knew and decided not to tell anyone?” Bull asked.

“I did, just the same as you,” Solas replied without missing a beat. “It was Aloisia’s decision, and no one else’s.”

“All right, all right! I get it!" Sera shouted. "You’re all pissing all over with your big smarty-brains, and I have to take my small, stupid little head with me back to Skyhold with a fucking liar to watch over.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Sera,” Aloisia said. “You can very clearly see that Bull and Solas are having a dick-measuring contest, whereas you have your common sense that doesn’t need to prove herself because you’ve got arrows for anyone who says otherwise.”

“Ha ha ha ha ha! I do, don’t I? All right, Not-Warden Blackwall. On your horse, and then off we get, all right?”

“I know, I know. I’m not going to run. And if I did, I’d end up with an arrow in my back.”

“And don’t forget it,” Sera said as she mounted up. “And Aloisia, be careful, okay? Between the two with dicks for brains and Hawke and her secret Warden friend… Just be careful, okay?”

“Sera, please. I’m always careful,” Aloisia answered.

“Maybe you are. Didn’t stop you from dying once. Just don’t make a habit out of it, okay?”

Aloisia hadn’t realized until now just how much Sera really did care about her, and it was nothing less than heartwarming. “I promise, I truly do. Now go on. Off with you. Hawke, pack up your cards and let’s finally meet with this ally of yours.”

“As you wish, Your Holy Stewardship,” Hawke said with a mocking bow. “Come on, it’s not far.”

“Ugh. I think I prefer ‘Your Bladeyship,’ even if I don’t want to be called the Blade of the Maker anymore,” Aloisia mused.

“Sounds to me like you ought to make up your mind, boss,” Bull said.

“Or else you’ll make it up for her?” Solas rebutted.

“All right! Keep it in your pants, both of you,” Aloisia said. “Hawke, please hurry. The kids are getting antsy.”

“Not to worry. It’s just through this cave right… Here. Here it is,” Hawke said. “Follow me quietly, and let me do the talking. After the secret knock, of course. Need to be extra careful.”

Maybe Aloisia was feeling silly or childish, but she suddenly had an overwhelming wish to have had a secret knock at some point in her life. Alas, such a time was likely long past by now.

They came to a wooden door at the end of the cave, and Hawke knocked a few times in a few separate spots, each knock making a distinctive sound at each spot. “I brought company to visit! Me, Varric, the not-Inquisitor of the not-Inquisition, a grumpy elven mage, and a Qunari spy. Be sure to set the table for everyone! And get this! The not-Inquisitor knows the king of Ferelden, and a certain Sister Nightingale is her spymaster!”

Aloisia had a sudden sense of foreboding that proved justified when the door was opened by a woman with striking white hair tinged with green, the clearest green eyes she’d ever seen, and eyelids and lips painted mint green. She was striking in her own way, and she looked at Hawke with a face that bespoke mild annoyance mingled with genuine warmth.

“Everyone,” Hawke said with childish glee, “Allow me to introduce my dashing, daring, heroic cousin - who, by the way, you might know as the Hero of Ferelden - Solana Amell. Cuz, meet Totally-Not-Inquisitor Aloisia Kallig. She’s here to save the world. Can you imagine that, Solana?”

Varric found his voice first and broke the silence. “Hawke, are you telling me that you’ve been related to the Hero of Ferelden all this time and you never once told me?”

Hawke let out a breath that might have been a sigh before looking at Varric with a smile that very nearly reached her eyes, if not quite all the way. “Would you believe me if I said that I had gotten used to thinking of myself as Marian Amell, but decided to adopt my father’s name to avoid complicating my life and the life of my long-lost cousin? Because for once, I’m really not making anything up here.”

“That’s enough, children. Marian, behave, or it’s off to bed without supper for you,” Solana Amell said as she turned to grace Aloisia and her companions with a warm, welcoming smile. “Come on in, everyone. The world isn’t going to save itself, so let’s see what we can do to help it along, shall we?”

Chapter Text

~~Solana Amell~~

For the first time in nearly a year – or perhaps more than a year – Solana Amell was enjoying the simple pleasure of the company of others. Of course, Marian had been there for her when her own people had abandoned her in favor of following Clarel over in Orlais, but a single cousin was different from a party of companions like she had once traveled with. How strange it was to look back on the Blight and think of it as a simpler time.

The cave that served as her hideaway was a humble place, but Solana had done her best to make it feel as homey as a small cave could be. The table that played host to her various notes and tomes had been cleared away for the Steward and her companions to sit and eat alongside Marian and herself. She’d naturally already heard plenty of complimentary stories about Varric, and she’d welcomed the dwarf more eagerly than any of the others, for his friendship with her cousin counted for a great deal. He was as good as family to Marian, which made him family to Solana as well, which she made clear to Varric’s embarrassment.

Finally, they were all seated and enjoying some simple bread, cheese, and mead. There would have been meat for them all had Marian informed her just how many guests she’d intended to bring, but it might have been the Steward’s decision. Aloisia Kallig was her name. The Blade of the Maker, Mender of the Veil, She Who Denied Death. The tales had all spread like wildfire, and Solana hesitated to ask as to the truth of them. She had seen too much, learned too much, to discount anything at this point. And among such terrible things was the common enemy they all faced.

Before she got straight to business, however, Solana would do as she had always done when greeting new allies. She would get to know them, or she would at least make the attempt, so as to better solidify an alliance. Or maybe even a friendship, like she had once had over a decade ago, before ascending to Warden-Commander of Ferelden. Perhaps that was why she looked back at the Fifth Blight with fondness. Not the battle itself, never the fight against the darkspawn. But the companionship, the bonds forged, the joyous memories in those moments between. All of these things were precious, and Solana missed them dearly.

Before she could even formulate a question, Solana found herself on the receiving end. “So, Warden-Commander,” Steward Kallig said after taking a sip of ale, “I’ve heard stories of your many deeds, and the fact that this land isn’t covered with darkspawn is a testament to that. After the Blight, however, there is little to no information to be had about you, your whereabouts, or your dealings. From what I understand, you grew up in a Circle of Magi, never knowing your family. How is it that you came to be so familiar with your cousin, the Champion of Kirkwall?”

“Must you call me that?” Hawke protested from across the table before taking a bite of cheese. “Honestly, the only reason I ever got that stupid title was because I prevented a slaughter that just so happened to include the wealthiest and most influential people in the city. Such a ‘champion’ is just a glorified errand girl for the rich and lazy who can’t be bothered to do their own dirty work. To be fair, I was rather good at it.”

“Marian, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Solana said with a stupid grin on her face. Solana might not be older by much, but the stress of her work had caused her face to wrinkle a bit. And apparently, only Leandra Hawke nee Amell had ever called Marian by her first name, with her siblings only ever referring to her as ‘sister.’ Solana was having none of that, and while Marian would never admit it aloud, she believed that her cousin did appreciate hearing her given name from a member of her family.

“Bah! You’re not the boss of me, cuz!” Marian said with all the petulance of a woman-child with many years of putting up a joking façade to hide the bitterness lurking underneath.

“No, but I am your host. Now behave yourself, young lady,” Solana said, unable to stop herself from chuckling. Turning back to look at Steward Kallig, she saw a warm smile welcoming her. “To answer your question, about a year after the end of the Blight, after I took over as Warden-Commander of Ferelden, I received a message from Kirkwall about some sort of inheritance in the form of an estate in the city. Such things were useless to me as a Warden, but it did make me curious as to what family I might have out there that could also lay a claim to the estate. Thus I began correspondence with a Fereldan refugee living in Kirkwall, and was petitioning for the Amell Estate, arguing that it belonged to her mother. The letters continued, and I was in regular contact with my own flesh and blood for the first time in my life. After Kirkwall went up in flames, I offered to let Marian stay with me, but she decided she’d rather elope with a certain pirate queen, though I understand that she prefers ‘admiral’ instead.”

“Hold on a moment,” the Qunari calling himself ‘Iron Bull’ said. “I’ve heard of this pirate. Bitch stole the Tome of Koslun. And we’re sitting down with the woman who married her? I mean… You’re supposed to be basalit-an, but that doesn’t mean I have to like all of your choices.”

“I’m sorry, but did you just voice your own opinion, and not that of the Qun?” the elf, Solas, asked in a very pointed, barbed tone.

Marian sighed and put on a pouty face. “See what you’ve done, cuz? You’ve gone and spoiled the mood. We didn’t elope, and we’re not married. She’s the admiral, and I’m just her kept girl when we’re at sea. And Isabela returned the Tome of Koslun to the Arishok once she finally got it back. But nooo, that wasn’t enough for him. He would have slaughtered all of Kirkwall – and who knows if he would have stopped there – if I hadn’t defeated him in single combat. Thankfully, your soldiers stuck to their orders, and that was that. And honestly, the Tome had been out of Qunari hands for over two hundred years, and the first thing you do when you get it back is to try and kill the one who returns it to you?”

Solana observed as Iron Bull let out a breath. “All right, you made your point. The antaam have their own way of doing things, their own demands to the Qun. But, yeah. I suppose if someone I cared about did what you did, and then had her head called for, I might feel a bit upset about it, too.”

“A bit upset?!” Solas echoed in rage. “Do you people have so little care for others – even among your own kind – that a call for their death is cause for no more than a small disappointment?”

“That. Is. Enough!” Steward Kallig said, her voice rising only so slightly, but there was a certain power behind her voice that felt like some sort of magic, but Solana was unfamiliar with whatever it might be. “We are here as guests, and our host has information for us that will very hopefully help us to save the world. I don’t know where Cole got off to, but if you can hear me, Cole? Please make sure that nobody here hurts each other, will you?”

“The Iron Bull isn’t angry. He’s just trying to know you. A push here, a poke there, it all reveals so much,” a young man’s voice answered from nowhere. The entity known as Cole had decided to disappear to give the others a bit more room and comfort, but he was very clearly still there. And if he was what everyone thought he was – a spirit of benevolent aspect given form and flesh – then he was remarkable beyond compare. “Solas doesn’t understand, and he doesn’t like not understanding. ‘Mages, both of them. And her, saying she was a slave. Why do they idle about around He Who Submits?  He submits without reason, not knowing why, not caring to know.  Why does Kallig compare herself to him?’”

“That is enough, Cole. Please,” Solas said in a firm voice, though not entirely unkind.

“Yeah. I agree for once. No more demon shit at the dinner table, please,” Iron Bull said.

Kallig sighed and looked straight at Solana. “I apologize on behalf of my people. The Iron Bull is still relatively new to the Foundation, so he's here to get used to how we do things. As for Cole, his story is something for another time.  And my comrades in general...  Well, people have said that I have a certain force of personality, and I suppose that attracts other unique individuals. You and your cousin have each traveled with people both famous and infamous. As I understand it, you were once lovers with the King of Ferelden as well as my current spymaster. I’ve only met King Alistair briefly, but between him and Leliana, you certainly chose your traveling companions well, Warden-Commander.”

Solana felt her cheeks flush with heat as memories came rushing back along with all of the mixed, powerful emotions that came with them. “Please, this is a dinner table, not a war meeting," she said.  "Here and now, just call me Solana, please. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the luxury of just being me. It’s either been Warden-Commander Amell, or else a certain someone’s favorite cousin, though to look at her, you’d think she’s my spoiled niece.”

“Hey! That’s unfair,” Marian whined. “Come on, Varric. Back me up, here.”

“All due respect, Hawke, but I don’t want to be sent to bed without supper. That’s what humans do to their kids, right?” Varric asked. “You remember why I picked you to join that expedition way back when, right? I pick the winning side, and right now? I'm not convinced that’s you.”

Solana was biting back laughter, and how she’d missed feeling so alive like this! “To answer your question, Lady Steward – or would you prefer your given name at this humble table? – I didn’t so much choose my company as my company found me. I was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, or else the right place at the right time, and I found myself traveling in the company of a Grey Warden who turned out to be a literal royal bastard, as well as a Chantry lay sister who seemed to think that the Maker had told her to help me stop the Blight. I confess, I was quite smitten with them both. In the end, Alistair was far more insistent on monogamy, and I wanted to spend what time I could with him before he ascended to take the throne of Ferelden. And then he had a country to run, and Leliana was off to eventually serve the Divine. Maker, it’s been ages since I thought of all the passion we shared together.”

“What’s this about ‘shared passion,’ Solana? I mean, if you don't mind me asking?” Varric said. “I figure I’ve already written a novel about the Champion of Kirkwall, and the Blade of the Maker or whatever she goes by nowadays is definitely getting her own book if we all survive this. I might as well document the adventures of the Hero of Ferelden. I’ll turn it into one, big, continuous story, with future volumes to be determined whenever the next great hero turns up. 'Tales of the Dragon Age' or some shit like that, I imagine.  So, in the interest of funding this venture of mine – which will go on to support your cousin, the Foundation, and the Grey Wardens, too, if you like – tell us about all of this shared passion, will you? At the very least, it sounds like the start of a romance serial of questionable quality.”

Now, Solana did laugh out loud, and she felt as if she’d been hit with one of Wynne’s spells of rejuvenation after being tired for so long that it had become normal. “All right, here’s a story for you. We were in Denerim, hiding in plain sight, and we took on a contract from the city guard to deal with some mercenaries in a brothel who were having a bit too much fun and stubbornly staying put. Alistair, Leliana, and I arrived to find the lot of them already unconscious on the floor after they tried to get a bit too handsy with one of the other patrons.

“And oh, what a beauty she was. From her eyes and smile to her body to her skill with a blade... She was sensuous grace both in and out of combat. Leliana wanted to learn how to move like her, and she agreed to play tutor if I could beat her at Wicked Grace.

“Of course, she cheated, and I caught her in the act, but that only got her more excited, so she added an extra caveat. A romp in one of the Pearl’s back rooms, but she wanted as much company as she could get. I was in, as was Leliana, and after getting him too drunk to think straight, so was Alistair.”

Solana’s smile took on a wicked turn as she folded both of her hands behind her head. “And that is the story of how I had the most wonderful foursome with the future king of Ferelden, the future Left Hand of the Divine, and my dear cousin’s current girlfriend. Oh, Isabela, if only you knew how powerful they would become, I’d dare say you’d charmed the pants off some of the most powerful people in the world on purpose.”

Marian spat out a mouthful of ale and started coughing, while all around them, Varric, Iron Bull, and even Aloisia Kallig were laughing together. The elf, Solas, seemed entirely unamused. Given what little she’d seen of him, Solana wondered just how large the stick up his ass must be.

“Look on the bright side, Marian,” Solana said, deciding to take pity on her cousin. “She’s settled with you, and from all you've said, she's more than content. And let it never be said that Admiral Isabela had less than impeccable taste in her choice of partners.”

“Ugh! You’re impossible, cuz. You are aware of this, right?” Hawke said. “Now all I can think of is Isabela impeccably tasting you along with the King of Ferelden and Sister Nightingale and… Well, I’m on that list as well, I suppose, and I can only hope that there hasn’t been too much other impeccable tasting since I came back ashore. Not that I would ever dream of keeping a sailor from her freedom. That’s what drew me to her, you know? Her freedom of spirit. Even living outside of a Circle, being an apostate wasn’t exactly the most freeing feeling. How did you ever put up with being cooped up in a Circle for so long, cuz?”

“Is that why the two of you are so different?” the Steward asked. “Blood relations aside, I would never have guessed you two were family had I met you both separately and never seen you interacting together. And yes, Aloisia is just fine for now.”

“Thank you, Aloisia,” Solana said. “And I’d have to imagine so, yes. Life in the Circle was, for me… I was happy enough, but not content. Sure, I had access to all the knowledge and education I could want – or so I thought at the time – but genuine friendship was rare, and knowing that the world was so much bigger than the tower, just waiting out there… All I wanted for so long was to see what the world was like outside of the Circle, and I got my wish in the most terrible way. I suppose my time in the Circle taught me a bit more restraint than I’ve come to expect from Marian. And no, that’s not a knock against you, cousin. If anything, I envy your freedom of spirit. And I’m certainly very happy to have you in my life.”

“I see. Thank you for explaining, Solana,” Aloisia said. “I think it’s clear that despite the Chantry’s taboo, not every mage lived in the same state of fear all of the time. Not to diminish anyone’s suffering, just to say that every individual has their own unique experience. I never saw the inside of a Circle, but I remember all too well what awaited me had I disobeyed my… Had I disobeyed the man who owned me years ago. And I only live today because before I was born, that same man owned my mother, and he decided to make use of her. At least he’s dead now. I made sure of that.”

“I thought you belonged to a woman,” Iron Bull said.

“I did,” Aloisia replied, if a bit more hastily than Solana would have expected. “He gave me to her as a way to pay off some debt. Both of them are dead now, though my hatred remains. May I continue, please?”

“Please, go right ahead,” Solana said as gently as possible, but she couldn’t help but wonder if this woman was telling the truth about her enslavement, or at least not the whole truth. She certainly didn’t act like anyone who had ever been beaten down and enslaved, and if the spirit named Cole was any indication, Solas was equally unsure about the steward's past.

“Thank you. As I was saying, there was a very effective way of keeping control of living property that both of my owners took advantage of. Every doorway, every window, every cabinet and wardrobe on their estates was enchanted to react a certain way to the enchantments on the collar that I was forced to wear around my neck for so many years. When I was young and prone to misbehaving, not fully understanding my situation, disobeying orders merely gave me a light electric shock. Painful, but not overly so, and far from deadly.

“Of course, if the lesson didn’t take, then the shock would continue, keeping me or any other disobedient slave in constant agony for a protracted length of time. For the most secure areas of the estate, passing through a door with a certain enchantment would send a concentrated burst of electricity straight into my brain, killing me instantly. I never tested that myself, but I have no doubt as to the reality of the matter.

“And on top of that, my master had a device – you could call it a small tablet of stone – with different runes etched into it. All he had to do was to touch the rune and say the magic word, and it was either pain or death for any of his slaves. That was my reality as a child. If you don’t believe me, then say it to my face. I’d rather know if you think me a liar than have you smile and pretend anymore,” Aloisia said, her eyes moving deliberately to fixate on Solas.

Solana found herself turning to look at the elf as well. The bitterness in Aloisia’s voice was far too raw and real to be false, and the sort of bondage that she had described was ingenious in the cruelest of ways. She no longer doubted that Aloisia had been a slave, however long ago it might have been.  As she and the rest of the room waited for Solas to speak, Solana began to wonder at just who this strange elf might be. City elves did not have mages that could live outside of a Circle, and Solas seemed far too proud to have ever been subjugated by humans. But neither did he have the markings of a Dalish elf, and no such elf would be caught without wearing their vallaslin proudly. Solas was an anomaly, to be sure.

And he finally seemed to grasp that everyone in the room was looking at him and expecting an answer or an apology or any sort of response to Aloisia’s challenge. He straightened his posture and looked Aloisia in the eye. “Forgive my presumption, Aloisia. You do not act like one who has been enslaved, but it is entirely possible that such an ordeal could harden your resolve to overcome a mindset of submission and rise to your current position, I admit.”

Solana felt a sudden urge to grab her staff and freeze a block of ice around Solas’s nether regions, then give him just long enough to feel the pain before doing the same to his head. But he was Aloisia’s man, so she’d leave the elf for her to deal with.

Aloisia’s gaze narrowed into a glare, and Solana felt very cold all of a sudden. “I’m truly honored that you admit the possibility that I am telling the truth, Solas," Aloisia said. "Now let me make something clear to you. You are a scholar of the Fade unlike any other in the Foundation’s employ, and that makes you an indispensable resource. That being said, you are without a doubt one of the most arrogant and unsympathetic individuals I have ever had the displeasure to meet. Since the moment I met you, you have done barely a thing to ingratiate yourself to anyone at all beyond offering your knowledge and skills. You’re more akin to what I imagine a golem would be like, only far surlier and more unpleasant. If I didn’t need you, Solas, I’d make sure I never had to see you again. And your usefulness is a matter for debate. So for your own good, stop pissing everyone off, already!”

“Ha!” Solana laughed, unable to help herself. “Damn, but you’re right. Solas is exactly what you’d get with a male mishmash between Shale and Morrigan, two of my old traveling companions. Grumpy, surly, supremely talented. One of them actually was a golem, and she was a thinking, feeling, living being, not the emotionless servant you seem to imagine, Aloisia. And Morrigan… She was haughty and proud, so certain of herself, or so you’d think after a single conversation. But her mother was the real danger. Flemeth was something beyond my understanding. I killed her after she turned into a dragon, but Morrigan firmly believed that I had merely inconvenienced the old hag. But she’s a cuddly little nug at heart, just in need of a bit of love.”

“Stop! Don’t remind me of that woman,” Marian said. “I know I told you about my own encounter with Flemeth. You were the appointment she needed to keep, I imagine. And she scared the living shit out of me as an old woman far more than any dragon ever will. And now, I wonder what in the world she even is? A year into my time at Kirkwall, she appeared to me again. Offered me her sympathies, as if she knew the dark hole I was about to plunge into.”

“All right, enough talk of the scary witch,” Varric said. “Let’s bring up the cheer a little bit, shall we?”

“Not just yet, Varric,” Aloisia said with unexpected fervor. “What color were Flemeth’s eyes?”

“Yellow, like molten gold,” Marian said. “I’ll never forget those eyes. Way too fucking creepy.”

“That’s right,” Solana said. “I’d never seen such eyes until I met Morrigan. I imagine it’s hereditary. That is, assuming Flemeth is her biological mother and not a witch who kidnapped her as a babe. I wouldn’t put much of anything past either one of them, but at least Morrigan is human, I’m fairly sure. What made you ask such a question, Aloisia?”

“Morrigan,” the Steward said. “She came up in conversation with King Alistair and Leliana. Her unusual eye color stood out in their memory, and it stuck in my mind. A mere curiosity, nothing more.”

Well, if that wasn’t a bald-faced lie, then there was no such thing. But the way in which Aloisia spoke of it… She knew it was a lie that wasn’t expected to be believed, but she just didn’t want to talk about it. Fair enough, Solana decided. She didn’t know this woman well enough yet, but hopefully that would change one day.

“I’m sorry to say that the mood is rather dour, which suits the current situation perfectly,” Solana said. “You wouldn’t expect a Warden-Commander to be in hiding from her subordinates, but such is the reality born out of fear from what I suspect is a false Calling, and it’s affecting every single Grey Warden in Southern Thedas. Fear leads to desperation, and desperation leads to very stupid decisions.”

“You’ve just perfectly summed up Corypheus’s modus operandi," Aloisia said. "He creates desperation in his tools, and then offers them false hope when they have nowhere else to go. He has a plan for the Wardens, and it won’t be anything good. So what are we going to do about it, Warden-Commander Amell?”

Solana grinned, but it was a humorless thing that merely acknowledged a partner coming to her aid in a time of peril. “What indeed, Steward Kallig. Everyone, clear the table. I’m going to get all my maps and documents and correspondences, and we’ll see if we can figure out the enemy’s next move.”

“And once we do, we will annihilate him,” Kallig said grimly.

Solana smiled more warmly. She definitely liked this woman. “That we will. Let’s get to work.”

The day was rushing in all too quickly for Leliana’s liking. She had been enjoying a wonderful, dreamless sleep that had been more relaxing than anything she had experienced in… She had never once been this well-rested. And this wasn’t her mattress that she was resting on. She was in Aloisia’s room, now struggling to rouse herself from slumber after… She had been attending to business in the rookery as usual, and now she was here. If she could only get her energy back, she could wake up and think properly.

“Easy does it,” a soft female voice said. “This won’t hurt a bit.” A small prick at the base of her neck was all that Leliana felt, and then she found herself waking up very quickly.

Leliana opened her eyes and laid perfectly still. Someone was in here with her, presumably alone, in Aloisia’s room with the strange devices that prevented any sound from escaping out of her door. Any call for help would be useless. “Who are you?” Leliana asked to the room. “Why are you here, and why have you brought me here?”

“You can call me Cynthia,” a woman’s voice said. She sounded vaguely Fereldan, but without the roughness in her voice that a real Fereldan accent would hold. “If you wish to sit up and look at me, you may do so. All the same, no sudden moves. We’re on the same side, but I needed to talk with you in private. If it helps, this isn’t the first time we’ve met. Last time, I went by the name ‘Tanya.’

“Oh, fuck.” Leliana cursed herself for allowing such base language to escape her mouth and reveal her frustration. It was an amateur mistake, but if this woman could infiltrate Skyhold, get up to the rookery, and then move Leliana over to Aloisia’s room, all while remaining undetected… “If you’re looking for trust, I don’t think you understand the concept very well.”

“Oh, trust is a rare and expensive commodity in our line of work, Sister Nightingale,” Cynthia said, as if lecturing an innocent child. “Thankfully, we are currently in the living quarters of perhaps the one woman on this planet that we both have some measure of trust and respect for. Or am I mistaken?”

Leliana turned towards the source of the voice and found the woman who called herself Cynthia. She was about the same height and build that Tanya had been, and her hair was styled exactly as it had been in her previous guise, but in a lighter shade of brown. Tanya had had blue eyes, whereas Cynthia’s eyes were brown, a bit darker than her hair. And the look on her face… It was a soft, gentle, perhaps even a warm and kind expression there. It was all entirely innocent and unassuming, even to Leliana’s well-trained eye and her own nigh-paranoid expectations.

~~"Cynthia"~~

“If you wouldn’t mind doing me a professional courtesy,” Leliana said, careful to keep the fear and rage boiling inside of her from lashing out, “I would very much like to know how you managed to infiltrate this fortress, subdue me, and then get me into this room without raising any sort of alarm.

Cynthia leaned against the wall and folded one leg over the other at the knee as she folded her arms over her chest. It was the posture of a woman who was entirely self-assured of her control of the situation, and it utterly belied the innocent look on her face. “In simple terms, I cheated,” she said with a more appropriate, wicked-looking smile. “But given the nature of my intrusion, I will go into detail. You deserve that much. Infiltrating Skyhold was easy, and I’ve done so many times before. I’m able to make myself invisible to the eye, and I’m also able to silence my steps. It’s not what you know as magic or enchantment. Think of the trebuchets and the ballistae you had at Haven, and then watch technology evolve over the course of thousands of years, and you arrive at what allows me to do what I do. Are you with me so far?”

“I… I’m not quite sure,” Leliana confessed. “Can you give a more concrete example of some sort of tool you use that would make more sense to my poor, primitive mind?”

“You have a sense of humor. That’s good. All right, then. Let’s go with the Silver Knife that so many believe is the Maker intervening in your world. Would you like to know what it really is? Or would it be too dangerous for you to possess the truth of such things?”

Oh, now she was just taunting Leliana. “You know that Aloisia should be the one to share such knowledge, if she decides to do so. That is not your place, Cynthia,” Leliana said, all but spitting the name.

Cynthia nodded. “Very good. You passed that test. You put your loyalty to the cause above your own curiosity. You understand the risks inherent should you ever be taken prisoner. Aloisia is lucky to have someone like you by her side. Now, before you get your panties in a twist, let me actually provide you with an answer that will satisfy you. Do you remember the weapon that Tanya brought as a gift?”

Leliana did not like her loyalty being tested by someone she owed no loyalty to, but it had been made clear to her that this conversation was not being held on her own terms, regardless of her own wishes. “A replica of Bianca. Varric’s repeating crossbow.”

“The very same,” Cynthia said. “The weapons I would normally use are a technological evolution from crossbows and similar weapons in the distant past. Eventually, people managed to forge armor that even a bolt from Bianca could not penetrate. So weaponry had to evolve to meet this new challenge. The earliest form of what I know as ‘slug-throwers’ came next. The trigger is attached to a narrow metal cylinder, and it triggers a spark of fire that combusts upon touching a flammable powder, and that propels a small metal pellet down the length of the cylinder, out and towards its target. But accuracy was an issue, and so the inside of the cylinder – a barrel is the term we use – allows for the origins of rifling. Balls of metal become pointed shards of metal, and you have the first firearms. After that, the evolution goes from a single shot to a cartridge of metal slugs like the cartridge of bolts in Bianca, and you have a repeating, rapid-firing slug-thrower.”

Leliana wasn’t sure how such things were built from an engineering standpoint, but she understood the logic behind it. A stronger defense on one side of a conflict requires a stronger offense to penetrate it, which then causes even stronger armor to be forged, and on and on the weapons would grow deadlier and deadlier. “How did your people go from metal shards to swords of fire? Why go to melee weapons at all when you can kill so effectively from a distance?”

“I won’t even bother answering a question to which you already know the answer. You once wielded a bow, but you had a pair of daggers as well,” Cynthia said, and Leliana had to admit that she knew full well the dangers of wielding a bow while a melee fighter was closing in. “But lightsabers are a bit different from what I know as conventional weaponry. Only those who can touch the Force can wield a lightsaber without risking themselves in the process. You should know that a lightsaber is more than just a fancy, shining sword. After armor got strong enough to block a deluge of metal slugs… Well, now we're at a point in history where the stars were at our fingertips. The Republic claims to have existed for at least twenty-thousand years, so most humans that I know of surpassed Thedas's level of technology millennia before your world’s records say that Arlathan was founded.

“While that undoubtedly sobering bit of knowledge sinks in, let me assure you that my own people have been mostly content to remain within our own borders, only settling a few colonies on worlds with no one already there to contest us. The Sith Empire dragged my people into their war, and until Aloisia’s Alliance came along, I thought the rest of the galaxy to be no more than savage barbarians. She proved me wrong, as did those who followed her, and I eventually became one of those very followers.

“But, getting back to my weapon. There are some planets that you can’t walk on at all, that are merely clumps of gas held together by sheer mass. And the gas of some such planets can be turned into fuel that, when put into a cartridge and affixed to a proper weapon, fires rapid bursts of energy instead of anything solid. Imagine if instead of metal-tipped bolts, a crossbow fired the same blazing energy you see when Aloisia wields her lightsaber. That’s what I wield in extremely simple terms, though a lightsaber is far stronger. As for the usefulness of a lightsaber in a galaxy full of blasters, too many soldiers make the mistake of opening fire on an opponent wielding a lightsaber, only to have the energy from their weapons by the lightsaber and redirected back towards those who fired in the first place, usually to fatal effect. Have I made my point, Sister Nightingale?”

“Yes, I believe you have,” Leliana said, though she was still incredibly unsettled. It was one thing to create a more effective killing machine. It was another thing entirely to make oneself invisible and silent, and without magic at that! “You have yet to answer my earlier question as to how we are talking right here and now, the two of us, with no one else the wiser.”

Cynthia smiled, and it sent a shiver down Leliana’s spine. “So, you won’t be distracted so easily. That’s good. Another passing grade. Very well. I snuck into Skyhold, invisible and silent, and made my way up to your rookery. While you were looking over various documents, I snuck up behind your other agents in the room and injected them with a fast-acting sedative and then I lowered them to the ground. The dosage I gave them will last longer than the one I gave you. I wanted to have this talk without them raising the alarm, but they’ll wake before the day is done, as if from a very restful sleep. Once the others were out, I injected you with a smaller dosage. Then I laid you down on what you would consider a floating bed, the kind we use to move injured patients around without the risk of jostling them about. Once you were safely aboard, I made you and the bed invisible, and then I assumed your face and your voice, and Sister Nightingale went about some business in the Steward’s room as far as anyone else knows.”

Leliana was filled with a storm of conflicting emotions. This woman – Cynthia or Tanya or whatever her real name was – clearly had the ability to destroy the entire Foundation from within if she so decided. But Aloisia knew her. More than that, Aloisia trusted her. This woman was likely a welcome piece of home to Aloisia, and Leliana felt bile rise in her throat at the realization of how little she truly understood about the woman she found herself falling in love with.

“You’ve answered how you came to be here,” Leliana said carefully, meeting Cynthia’s gaze despite her own fear. “You’ve yet to answer why we’re here in this room, having this conversation.”

“Another passing grade,” Cynthia said to Leliana’s ever-growing annoyance. “Oh, don’t give me that look. Believe it or not, I’m trying to look out for Aloisia, who is one of a very small list of people that I count as a genuine friend. If you understood the significance of what I allow her to call me in private, you would understand just how much trust and compassion I have for her. As to why I’m here, I’ve come to deliver messages from Aloisia so that the Inquisition will be ready to act on said information immediately once she returns. Consider me an agent reporting in to brief you on gathered intelligence.”

That, at least, was something that Leliana could manage. “Very well. What do you have to report?”

Cynthia let out a deep breath, and Leliana was surprised at this indication that the other woman was at all stressed by any of this. Or perhaps it was merely a ruse. “First things first,” Cynthia said. “Blackwall and Sera were sent back before meeting with Marian Hawke’s ‘ally’ in the Grey Wardens. Aloisia was sick of him lying about being a Grey Warden, or at the very least, she was sick of him doing such a poor job of it. She sent him back here to confess the full truth of his background to you, and she sent Sera to make sure he arrives unharmed, and to make sure that he doesn’t try to run. Aloisia didn’t think it would be wise to bring a false Warden – who was bad at lying about it – to meet the real deal.”

Leliana felt a headache coming on. Aloisia had told her about this, but while Leliana had said she would take it into account, she really hadn’t wanted to believe it. After her time traveling with Solana Amell during the Blight, Grey Wardens counted for a bit more in her mind than was appropriate for a spymaster. “Very well. What else is there?”

“While meeting and getting to know Hawke’s ally, something finally broke between Aloisia and Solas. She called him out on being, essentially, a misanthrope who was only around because he was uniquely useful. And Solas was already on edge after a meeting with a spirit of command. Your people should know that this spirit took physical form in a manner similar to Cole, but it does not take a name or memories or any other identity other than a spirit of Command. That being said, it chose to take the form of what it considered an embodiment of command, that being Aloisia herself,” Cynthia said with a chuckle of what might have been genuine amusement. “Command has no intentions of subverting Aloisia’s authority for now, although I am not as knowledgeable about spirits as I would like. What little I do know tells me that they are mutable beings, subject to change. I know what Command was when it departed, but I cannot say what it may yet become.”

Leliana swore in Orlesian. Dealing with people was difficult enough! A spirit in the guise of Aloisia was one thing too many. “You are sure that it was a spirit and not a demon?”

“When an incarnation of the concept of Command cautions Aloisia and itself against turning into Tyranny? Yes, I’m quite sure.”

“That… That is actually good to hear,” Leliana readily admitted. “Did Hawke’s ally have any useful information to share about Corypheus?”

“Oh, yes. I can confirm that every Grey Warden in Southern Thedas is hearing a Calling of some sort, but it is almost certainly not the real deal. As I understand it, once a Warden starts to hear the Calling for real, they have months at best before the Blight overtakes them. Alistair Theirin was hale and whole at least twenty months after he thought he first heard the Calling in a future that will no longer come to pass. Warden-Commander Amell was unable to quell their fears, and they’ve cast their lot in with Warden-Commander Clarel in Orlais.

“Aloisia gained intelligence from Hawke’s ally that the Wardens were preparing some sort of ritual as a test of sorts out in the deserts of western Orlais. Aloisia didn’t want to waste time going from one side of the continent to the other and then back to Skyhold, so I went with some of my people, and we took the guises of Aloisia and some of her people in the Western Approach.”

Leliana was liking this less and less. “What did you find there?”

“I found Grey Warden mages sacrificing their non-mage brethren to summon demons, only for one Magister Livius Erimond of Vyrantium to take control of their minds once the demons were bound. This is not an area of expertise for me, but Erimond seemed to believe that Corypheus was in direct control over the Wardens by way of the demons they summoned. They are as good as possessed, if not actually possessed by some other entity within the Fade using the summoned demons as a conduit, though that’s just a guess based on my admittedly limited knowledge. What matters is that the demon army that Aloisia learned of in that dark future? It’s very likely being summoned by the Grey Wardens as we speak. They’re afraid of their order dying out entirely, and of any hope of stopping future blights dying with them. Erimond proposed that they summon an army that needs no rest nor provisions to kill the Old Gods before they can be corrupted. They took the bait, and are preparing to summon demons en masse within Adamant Fortress.

“I could destroy Adamant Fortress, but I would be killing every Grey Warden inside, guilty or not, and that would leave Thedas vulnerable to future blights. You need to start readying your armies for a march to Adamant, and then for a siege. You may have some time, but no more than a month or two, I would say. There were enough Fereldan Wardens that greatly respected Warden-Commander Amell, and from what I have learned of her, those who were under her command won’t feel at ease about such extreme measures. They’ll keep Clarel busy pacifying them for a while, but sooner or later, Erimond will weave his way too deeply into Clarel’s fear-addled mind, and Clarel herself is a mage. If she binds a demon and falls under Corypheus’s control, then it’s over for the Grey Wardens.”

Leliana’s mind was racing at the horrific implications of the intelligence revealed to her. More than that, if the intelligence was accurate, then Cynthia’s usefulness was far and above anything Leliana had considered. The ability to move herself and to communicate information so far and so quickly was an advantage that the Foundation could not pass up. There was also the Grand Masquerade to host the peace talks in Orlais. The masquerade and the rise of this demon army were two problems that both required Aloisia’s personal attention, and Leliana still wasn’t sure what Aloisia would see as a positive outcome in Orlais.

“You are aware, Cynthia, of the peace negotiations to be held in Halamshiral?” Leliana said to the spy. “In your estimation, can Aloisia attend this function and return in time to lead the siege of Adamant Fortress?”

“I believe so, yes. Erimond will likely return to Adamant with news that the Foundation will be coming to lay siege, so the Wardens will need to shore up their defenses to be ready in time. The battle will be all the harder for it, but time building up defenses is not time spent summoning demons. I would recommend you start preparing your agents to be the Foundation’s muscle at the Winter Palace. Commander Cullen will need all of his soldiers for Adamant Fortress,” Cynthia said. “I wish I could offer a better guarantee than that, but for all that I’m an excellent spy, I’m not an army, and I can’t be everywhere at once. No one can, however much they may want to be.”

Leliana’s ears perked up at that. “Do I detect a hint of bitterness in your voice, Cynthia? Why would that...  Ah.  Yes, Aloisia mentioned what her wife had you do to prove that she could be 'everywhere at once.'  For the sake of your friendship, I'm sorry that you had to go through such a thing."

Cynthia's gaze narrowed slightly, and her brow furrowed. It was enough to betray that this was a sore spot for her.  “I appreciate the sentiment, and I'm glad that Aloisia has someone here that she can confide in. But moving on, I have two final things to say, and then I will be off to make my own preparations.”

“And what might those two matters be?” Leliana asked, genuinely curious and no longer angry at all.

Cynthia smiled. “First of all, you might as well get used to me. Once Aloisia returns, I will present myself as a representative of an excessively exclusive group of merchants, placing myself at the Foundation’s disposal. Aloisia will gain regular access to my resources, and she will also have a friend who knows what life is like beyond Thedas.”

Leliana smiled and finally got to her feet to look Cynthia straight in the eye. “That’s good. She needs someone like you, from her life before Thedas. What is the other matter?”

“I saved the best for last, I promise,” Cynthia said with actual warmth in her voice. “Hawke’s ally in the Wardens is not so much a mere ally as it is her second cousin on her mother’s side. You’ve done your homework on Marian Hawke. Please tell me I don’t have to spell it all out for you.”

Hawke’s mother had been Leandra Hawke, nee Leandra Amell… No, surely not! “Solana? Solana Amell? Warden-Commander of Ferelden?”

“The very same,” Cynthia says. “A woman who remembers you quite fondly, and who will be coming to Skyhold in time for the attack on Adamant Fortress, but Aloisia has some information that she needs the Warden-Commander to deliver to Orzammar, where she is already welcome. I thought it best to end with some news that might give you a small measure of happiness.”

Cynthia might be an exceedingly dangerous woman, and it didn't escape her that the nature of this business at Orzammar had yet to be disclosed, but the alien spy had proven herself to be far from heartless. This… This was a gift. “Thank you, Cynthia. I… I… Oh, dear. I need to get back to the rookery right away!”

“Then go, and I’ll get myself gone as well. But I’ll be back, and I’ll be staying to help.  I just have a small, trifling errand to take care of first, and then I'll be ready to serve Steward Aloisia Kallig.”

“All right, then,” Leliana said. “And it doesn’t go without saying, so let me say it properly. Thank you, truly, Cynthia. And welcome to the Foundation.”  As much as Leliana wanted to feel good about the matter being settled, there was something about the way Cynthia spoke about that 'small, trifling errand.'  I don't know what she intends to do, and despite all the evidence that she's an ally, I still have a very bad feeling about this.

Chapter Text

Solas opened his eyes and knew immediately that something was very wrong. His last memory was of standing watch around the fire while at camp en route back to Skyhold, and now he was here in the middle of a pitch black room, or more likely a cave given the smell of the air. He was seated in a wooden chair, his wrists and ankles bound in chains, but that was not what had him so unnerved. Somehow, he had lost consciousness and had no memory of stepping into the Fade.

Solas had never, not once, ever slept without dreaming. Humans sometimes did so in periods of great stress, and dwarves never dreamed, but it shouldn’t be possible for an elf, let alone a true elvhen such as himself. After realizing only too late just how much he had alienated Aloisia, he had expected an interrogation upon returning to Skyhold, but she could have easily tied him up and questioned him in the middle of the wilderness. Was it one of Corypheus’s agents, come to inquire about the orb? Whomever it was that had caught him unawares, Solas had to respect them for humbling him so completely.

“Solas,” a distorted voice said, echoing in around him, lending credence to the theory that he was in a cave. “We have questions for you. You will answer them. We will have the truth from you.”

The distortion was akin to a demon speaking through a possessed host, but at the same time it was all wrong. The distortion felt, for lack of a better word, artificial. And the artificial-sounding voice was all the more disturbing for how wrong it was. “I will tell you nothing,” he said simply, a statement of fact.

“You believe that,” the voice said. “We have been watching you for some time, and you are finally ready to be questioned. If it brings you any comfort, I know what you are about to experience, and I did not want to subject you to such trauma. At the very least, you will not be made to obey. You will only be made to tell the truth. And so, to business.

“Keyword: Infinitesimal. Cresh protocol, phase one.”

Solas felt his head begin to spin, felt himself losing control of… Losing control of… Control of what? He was going to demand answers. He felt true horror when he heard his voice say, “Cresh protocol engaged. Shutting down.” What have they done to me?! Who are they?! Have they forced a demon inside of me? How can they control it? What is going on?  “Shutdown complete,” he heard himself say.

“Very well,” the voice said, and did Solas hear a touch of guilt through the distortion? “Activate cresh protocol, phase two.”

“Phase two engaged. Ready to answer inquiries,” Solas heard himself say as understanding dawned. Someone had been suspicious of him, and they had done something to him to compel him to answer truthfully. And the knowledge he possessed… He would have to answer these questions very carefully to avoid a worst case scenario. Assuming, of course, that such a thing was even possible.

“What is your name?”

“Solas,” he answered, wondering why they asked a question to which they already knew the answer.

“What is the source of the given name of Solas?” the voice asked.

No, I will not give them the satisfaction of hearing me say it!  “Solas is the elvhen word for the concept of pride,” he heard himself say despite his own convictions.

“By what other names or aliases have you used, or been known by, for as long as you can remember?”

NO! Not that! No one can know that! I will now allow it!  “Fen’Harel. The Dread Wolf. The Great Wolf. The Old Wolf. He Who Hunts Alone. Lord of Tricksters. Bringer of Nightmares. Roamer of the Beyond. Liberator of the Oppressed. Savior of the Enslaved. God of Rebellion. Damnation of the Elvhen. Bane of the Evanuris. Bringer of the End of Days. He Who Holds Back the Sky. Kin to the Creators, Kin to the Forgotten Ones, God of Evil, Lord of the Beyond-“

“Stop talking. Prepare to resume answering when prompted,” the voice said.

It was all over. Solas was known by so many names and titles – most of them no more than superstitions grown in the telling over the course of millennia – but the names that mattered were the first to fall from his lips.

There was silence for a short while, though it felt like ages, even to one as old as Solas. And then, “How was the Breach created?”

“I do not know,” he said, and he realized that it was true. He had an idea of what Corypheus intended to do, but Solas did not know for certain what had actually happened. He did not know the specifics of the ritual magic involved.

“How do you believe the Breach was created?” the voice amended.

Damn them, whoever they are!  “I believe that Corypheus accessed the power stored within my orb, using Divine Justinia’s death as a catalyst, to tear the Veil open.”

“What is the nature of your orb?”

No! Not that! It was the key to all his hopes and dreams! It was the only hope, the last hope! “It is a focus to store magical energy that has been building for thousands of years. It is a vestibule meant to hold magical energy in quantities unlike anything else since before the fall of Elvhenan.”

“How did Corypheus gain possession of your orb?”

Damn this person, but they were well-versed in the art of interrogation. Unceasing questions, revealing nothing of themselves, asking the exact questions that would doom any possible future for the People. “I entrusted the orb to my agents, who allowed it to be found by Corypheus.”

“How extensive is your network of agents?”

“I do not know. I encourage my agents to recruit at their leisure, and the process is self-propagating.”

“How many agents are intended to be in direct contact with you as a possibility?”

“Seventeen,” he answered. It was not a large number, but the People they had recruited, and the others that had been made into agents by those extended contacts, knowing or unknowing… Solas did not know how vast his reach truly was, but it was quite widespread. But would this interrogator be able to tell that much?

“Is there a position in your network above yourself?”

“No.”

“Do you have any allies outside of your network?”

“Yes.” Wait, that wasn’t true! The only other person still alive who fully knew his true nature… No, not again! She had been betrayed once, and Solas would not be guilty of the same! He had to do something. He had to bite off his tongue, and why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? But even as the thought came to his mind, and even as he tried to make the effort, his jaws refused to answer him.

“Interesting,” the voice said, and Solas’s horror was once again fresh in his mind. They knew what he had just tried to do, and they would know how much she meant to him.

“How many such allies do you have?”

“One.”

“What is this ally’s name?”

“Mythal.” Damn him for betraying her. Hopefully they would leave it at that and take the name of a god as their answer, but Solas knew this interrogator was too thorough to let it lie at that.

“By what other names or aliases is Mythal known?”

“Flemeth. The Witch of the Wilds. Asha’bellanar. The Woman of Many Years. An old hag who talks too much.”

“Fascinating. Truly,” the distorted voice answered, and Solas wondered if there was actually a bit of amusement in that cold, dead voice. Solas would never be so rude about his dear friend had he the choice, but it was an epithet that Mythal truly felt fitting for herself, so he had been forced to divulge it. “What result did you intend by placing your orb into Corypheus’s possession?”

Solas swore in the silent void of his own mind as the futility of his situation began to set in, and he realized that only now was he beginning to realize the true terror of real despair. “He was meant to unlock the magic stored within the orb, and the resulting explosion was meant to kill him.”

“Had that result come to pass, what would you have done next?”

“I would have retrieved the orb and used it to tear down the Veil in its entirety.”

“Did you create the Veil?”

“Yes.” They knew! They understood the meaning behind ‘He Who Holds Back the Sky,’ and they would undoubtedly discern the true nature of Tarasyl’an Telas.

“Did you build the facility now known as Skyhold?”

“No.”

“Was Skyhold built at your behest?”

“No.”

“Was Skyhold ever your base of operations?”

“Yes.”

“When was Skyhold your base of operations, in the entirety of your memory?”

“I occupied it briefly for four months while I erected the Veil from within Tarasyl’an Telas, after which I left until I returned with the Foundation. It has served as my base of operations since then, and it still does.”

“How did you come to occupy Skyhold the first time?”

“It was left vacant after I killed its former owner. I took residence there when I decided to erect the Veil.”

“What do you believe would be the resulting outcome of bringing down the Veil?”

“The restoration of the elven people as they once were and as they ought to be, most likely at the cost of every other living thing on this world dying in the ensuing chaos.”

“What role or purpose do you intend the Foundation to serve in the scope of your plans?”

“They are a means to regain the orb from Corypheus so that I might restore the elvhen.”

“I see.” And with that, the voice went silent. Solas doubted that he would leave here alive, and even if he did, he would likely have nowhere to run. But then again, he still knew nothing of his captors. They could work for the Foundation, or for Corypheus, or for a sovereign nation, or any number of independent organizations that had their eyes on the Foundation, or else on the peace talks at the Conclave, or on Corypheus or Tevinter… There were too many possibilities. If he was taken prisoner, he might be able to turn this to his advantage, but that was an admittedly unlikely possibility.

After a long silence, the voice spoke again. “What are you?”

“I am an elf,” Solas answered. Of all the questions to ask, why something so obvious?

“What are you truly?”

“I am an elf,” Solas repeated.

“What was your mother’s name?”

“I don’t know.” What? How could that be? He hadn’t thought of such things in ages, it was true, but surely Solas would not forget such a part of his life.

“Did you have a mother?”

“I don’t know.” Of course he had a mother! Why was he lying when he was being forced to tell the truth?

“Under what circumstances would a being not have a mother?”

“All living beings have mothers,” Solas answered.

“And what of beings besides those you define as ‘living?’”

Non-living beings? The only such beings would be golems or… Or spirits. And demons.

“Solas, whose name is derived from the elvhen word for 'pride,' what are you?”

The implications of what this person was saying… It couldn’t be! Such a thing couldn’t be. Solas knew himself, he was sure of it. So very sure. “I don’t know,” he answered, the truth he had denied himself flowing from his lips unwillingly. “I am either an elf… Or I am an aspect or pride who was arrogant enough to believe that he… That it could be an elf, and so it became an elf named Solas. I am either an elf, or I am a spirit of pride who tricked everyone, including himself, into believing that he was an elf.”

“What do you believe you truly are?”

And finally, after countless eons, the Dread Wolf knew what it was to be utterly broken. “I am Solas. I am Pride Incarnate.”

“Thank you for your cooperation thus far, Solas. Next, we will go into greater detail about your network of agents and your ally, Mythal. I will allow you forty-five seconds to compose yourself as a courtesy.”

Solas had long thought himself to be an old fool, but he had never truly understood anything at all. How often had he berated everyone around him for not being what they ought to be? And here he was, a pretender without even knowing it. Was I ignorant, or was I truly so arrogant that I merely didn’t see what was always right in front of me?

The question didn’t really need asking, he realized as the curtain of despair fell around his soul. He was never ignorant. He was simply the height of arrogance. For what was arrogance if not the foulest possible form of Pride? He could not escape himself, he realized. He was Solas, and Solas was Pride. He was a living, breathing embodiment of damnation. And as damnation given form, there would never be any escape for Solas from himself.

If Leliana wasn’t in a nightmare right now, then the Maker was proving the cruelest of teachers. She could only watch helplessly as Mother Dorothea – wearing the age of her years and the garb of the Divine – fled in terror from an advancing Aloisia Kallig, her sword of fire drawn as she stalked forward.

“Please, Leliana! Save me! Save Orlais! Save us all from this false savior! She will bring ruin to everything we have worked to protect for so long!” Dorothea pleaded.

“Do you actually believe that, Leliana?” Aloisia said with a throaty laugh that made Leliana feel weak at the knees. “She’s been using you, using the Chantry, using all of Thedas and holding it back on purpose. She sent you to warn Elthina to get out of Kirkwall, but when Elthina chose to stand by and do nothing, Justinia let her die. She waited for Kirkwall to detonate so that she could take advantage of the crisis and force her idea of change upon the world, and you were her blind and willing tool.”

“Never, my dear Leliana!” Dorothea protested. “You know how much you meant to me! You were more than my friend, more than family.”

“You were her Left Hand, is all you were,” Aloisia mocked. “Fit to bring silence and darkness and to wipe her rear when called upon.”

“You must choose, Leliana!” Dorothea said. “Everything we fought for, everything we tried to bring about, you will lose it all if you side with her!”

“She has a point,” Aloisia said. “Stay with her, and you stay in the past. You let the world limp along in stagnation and decay. Or you can continue your journey with me, and we can bring about real change and a better future.”

“You must choose!” both women said in unison. “You cannot have us both. If you want to save everyone, you must cast off a part of yourself. Do what you must, Leliana. Kill your past forever, and forget everyone you ever loved, everyone who made you into who you are. Or kill your future, kill your hopes for tomorrow. Kill the future of Thedas. You must choose!”

“Enough!”

Leliana turned to the source of the unknown voice and saw a blonde woman in black armor descend to stand between Leliana and two of the most important women in her life. “Don’t be fooled. They are merely Doubt and Despair, ganging up on you to feed on your darker emotions. If you’ll allow me a moment?”

So saying, the blonde woman ignited what was unmistakably a lightsaber with a crimson blade – notably missing a cross-guard of any kind – and leveled it at both of the demons. The now-twisted faces of Dorothea and Aloisia snarled and hissed as they fled up and away into the green sky of what Leliana only now realized was the Fade. It truly was a nightmare, then. But if they were demons…

The blonde woman in the strange armor shut off her weapon and turned to face Leliana. Her hair was the exact length and style of Cynthia, but that was all they shared in common. Most distinctively, Leliana beheld golden eyes on the woman’s face. Leliana had only seen one other person with such distinctive eyes, and that had been over a decade ago. And given what Aloisia had told her, Leliana knew that there was only one person this could be.

“Lana Beniko,” she said, carefully feeling out the interloper’s name now that she was talking to the woman herself. Or was she really? Was this really the soul of Aloisia’s dead wife, or merely another spirit of the Fade trying to trick her? But if it was a Fade spirit or a demon, it would surely draw on Leliana’s memories. This woman before her now was unlike anyone Leliana had ever met. It had to be Beniko herself.

“Indeed, I am,” the blonde woman confirmed. “If your scouts haven’t already informed you, we’re about a day or two away from Skyhold. The woman you know as Cynthia has some information that she believes will only be safe to share once Aloy returns, and then only to be shared with you and Aloy and no one else. Well, I suppose there’s me, but that can’t be helped. I’ll have to talk with Aloy and see if she’s comfortable with that, and Cynthia as well. I’m not exactly in either of their good graces at the moment, which is actually why I’m here. Aloy felt a need for even greater privacy than usual while she sleeps tonight, so I followed the threads that seemed to have the makings of a bond, and here at the end I found you, Leliana.”

So, this was the woman behind Aloisia’s recent grief. The woman who prompted a conversation on pretty eyes, and then a frantic night of passion, and a whole mixture of emotions about the nature of that passion and how many people Leliana had truly shared herself with that night. She hadn’t really believed that there was another woman inside of Aloisia, and even with her staring her in the face, Leliana still found it hard to accept. But something did stick out to her in everything this strange woman said.

“Aloy?” Leliana asked with the dream equivalent of a slightly-arched eyebrow.

Beniko chuckled softly. “Yes, that’s what I call her. An affectionate shortening of her name, nothing more, though it took a long while before she was comfortable with any sort of term of endearment. To the best of my knowledge, only her mother had the privilege before me. And unless my instincts are incorrect – and to be fair, they have recently proven to be rather questionable – she may one day soon ask you to endear yourself to her in a similar way.”

Leliana scoffed at this remark, recalling her frustrations with Aloisia in the wake of her revelation of all that talk about her own eyes versus her wife’s. “I think you overestimate the nature of our relationship,” Leliana said bitterly. “She used me to get back at you. That’s it. And besides, you and she have so much history that I can’t begin to imagine. Sooner or later, she’ll go back to you, and I can stop worrying about how many people are enjoying themselves while in bed with Aloisia’s body.”

Beniko sighed and folded her hands behind her back. Leliana had observed Aloisia adopting a similar posture when she wanted to make a certain sort of statement. “For the most part, I am a passive observer in Aloy’s body,” Beniko said. “I see what she sees, hear what she hears, and I feel what she feels. That being said, we are still individuals, and I can separate myself from her in some limited fashion, but I had no input into Aloy’s lovemaking.

“As for what I felt of her own sensations… It was painful, knowing that I had upset my beloved so deeply. That she would go to so much trouble to say such things to hurt me, and then feeling her joy, her ecstasy, even her love for someone else while I could do nothing about it…  At the very least she took my advice and was honest with you about why she said what she did. I just hope you don’t make the same mistakes that I did with her. Be honest with her, always. Trust in her, as she trusts in you. And hopefully, you can come to love her as she is coming to love you. Be for her what I no longer can, please.”

“'What you no longer can?'” Leliana asked. “What exactly do you mean? Just how dead are you, relatively speaking? Humor this poor, primitive soul just a bit with her pitiful ignorance,” she spat.

“Do you really think I see you in such a way?” Beniko said, and she sounded mildly hurt. “Your society may not be as technologically advanced as mine, but you are a remarkable woman with a cunning mind, a solid moral compass, and a deep and loving heart despite that you try to hide it away. Ignorance is nothing to be ashamed of, so long as you don’t revel in it. You are not a primitive woman, Leliana. Please, don’t ever sell yourself short like that. I know that Aloy would never do so, and I hope you don’t feel the need to play down your own strengths for any reason.”

Leliana certainly hadn’t expected that. These people from beyond the sky – Aloisia, Cynthia, and now Lana Beniko – they were all so different from one another. Was the truth of things really that simple? That people were just as much alike and just as different from one another, no matter if they came from Orlais or Ferelden or from a star in the sky? “I appreciate the thought,” Leliana said. “But you have yet to answer my question. How ‘dead’ are you, Miss Beniko?”

Beniko smiled sadly and began to pace, her hands still folded behind the small of her back. “My flesh is dead, buried in the Fereldan Hinterlands. Just before we crashed onto this world, I had finished securing Aloy into her harness in our escape pod. To understand the situation, we were in the black of space – just above what you would call the sky – and this was a small metal container meant to hold a handful of people and deliver them safely to the surface. But entering a planet’s atmosphere is a turbulent journey well before impact with solid ground, and if you aren’t strapped in and held firmly in place, then you’re in for a rough ride. I had just managed to secure Aloy in place before we launched without warning. She held me in place with the Force, and I held onto her, intent on keeping her close and never, never letting her go.”

Lana sighed. “I can’t be sure if it was atmospheric turbulence or else impact with the surface, but I imagine that I must have been knocked from her grip, and my head hit the metal walls with such force that I suppose I died rather quickly. That being said, my mind often goes back to a line from a book of Jedi philosophy. ‘We are not this crude matter.’ The true self is not the body, but the spirit. Most scholars believe that when someone dies, their life essence returns to the Force in some manner or another as a natural part of life. When I died, however, I made Aloy my anchor to this plane of existence. I attached myself to her, and that attachment kept my spirit from moving on. In this way, I was able to stay with her and allow her to bind our souls together.

“That being said, however,” Beniko said as she stopped pacing and hung her head, “this existence that I find myself in now is hardly complete. I told you that I feel what Aloy feels, but that isn’t quite right. All of my senses are… I suppose that ‘shadows’ would be an appropriate term. A flat and hollow reflection of what those things were like when I was still entirely alive. All the same, Aloy and I have each other, and I will give her all the time she needs in order to sort out her anger with me. It’s interesting, in that whenever I got into a debate with Jedi on the nature of attachment, they thought it was something forbidden or to be feared. But I can’t imagine myself without Aloy any longer, even like this. I wouldn’t still be with her if not for that attachment.”

Well, that was one question answered, Leliana thought, and a definite insight into the woman Aloisia Kallig had married. Despite all of that, there was something that she felt that she had to say. “Attachments can be powerful things,” Leliana said carefully. “They ground us in the world and give us reasons to keep on going. But I long ago learned that there is a world of difference between attachment and love. I think you understand that in some small way. If your attachment to Aloisia was truly unhealthy, then you wouldn’t be giving her the space you feel she needs. But so long as you’re both defined by your attachment to each other, then you’ll be denying yourself the sort of true love that marriage is supposed to base itself on.”

“Are you trying to tell me that the love I feel isn’t real, Sister Nightingale?” Beniko challenged. “How dare you say such a thing?! You may know Aloy, but you most certainly do not know me! And I don’t believe that she would appreciate such presumption, either.”

“No, that isn’t what I meant,” Leliana said, closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts before opening them again. “What I meant was… Let me use an example from my own life, as that is what drives this belief of mine. During the Fifth Blight, I was deeply in love with Solana Amell before she came to be known as the Hero of Ferelden. And she felt strongly both for me, and for not-yet-King Alistair. Alas, Alistair was more… Let’s call him ‘traditional’ in his stance towards relationships. He was set on monogamy, and while Solana loved us both, she knew that to leave Alistair behind would be to break his heart entirely. I, on the other hand, was more adaptable to the realities of the situation.

“All the same, it hurt so very much when Solana told me that she had chosen to be with Alistair. I was furious at first. He was going to be King of Ferelden, and she would have responsibilities as a Grey Warden, and the Queen wouldn’t take kindly to a mistress who had killed her father. In the end, however, those things didn’t matter. Love is not a rational thing, and Solana had weighed the choices in front of her and she had decided.”

Leliana sighed and shook her head before continuing. “And as much as I adored her, I knew that it would break many hearts if I pressed the issue. I would have done great harm to Solana, to Alistair, and to myself if I had let myself be consumed by my attachment to her. And I was attached to her, but I forced myself to put that attachment aside and let her do what was best for herself, because I loved her. I loved Solana too much to let her be hurt by my own selfishness, by my desire for a deeper attachment. I would not say that love is necessarily defined by attachments or the lack thereof, but of the willingness and readiness to let go of that attachment if that is what is needed to help all involved as best as possible. At least, that is what I believe.”

“I see,” was all that Beniko said. She stood very still, looking to be deep in thought. “Thank you for sharing your perspective with me, Leliana. It’s strange, really. For the longest time, I would be furious with Aloy for putting her sentiments for me above the greater good, but my anger would have been out of a sense of practicality. I was expendable, she was not. And then, over time, we grew closer and closer. And then we trusted and loved each other. Looking back, it was silly to think that all I did for her was simply for the good of the galaxy. I just knew that I had to find her and free her from Zakuul. I can’t imagine spending five years trying to rescue her without something from deep within driving me to do so. This world isn’t quite so far from where our journey together really started picking up steam, in a way.”

“What do you mean by that?” Leliana asked. “I have to believe that your definition of ‘not so far’ is quite different from mine.” Despite the truth of her words, she was truly intrigued.

Beniko smiled thinly. “This world is inside a dwarf galaxy – a group of stars packed tightly together to form a cluster of mostly barren worlds – and it is exceedingly difficult to navigate within this place. It’s known as the ‘Rishi Maze,’ due to its hazardous nature and its proximity to a world called Rishi. The natives were mostly a welcoming and peaceful people, but others from all over the galaxy created a settlement there – Raider’s Cove – as a sort of haven for pirates, smugglers, and others who settled into an uneasy truce with each other in order to stay out of the way of galactic authorities. It was also where a rather large adventure began with myself, Aloy, and a few others. It was an early step in our journey together, but an important one.”

Turning to face Leliana, Beniko looked at her with a curious look on her face that Leliana couldn’t quite identify. “It is rather strange, now that I think about it. The only humans on Rishi were immigrants or transplants, and yet there are humans here on this world, actually inside of the Rishi Maze itself. I wonder when and how humans first came to this world. Or maybe they didn’t come here, but were brought here by someone or something else. It would explain the lack of technological development relative to the rest of the galaxy.”

“What?” It took a moment for Leliana to realize that she had spoken at all, as Beniko’s spoken thoughts were just too radical to be worth considering. Despite all of that… “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“Really, now," Beniko said, and Leliana hated the patronizing tone in her voice.  "A woman from beyond the stars crashes on your planet, she just happens to be the same species as you, and you don’t find that at all unusual?” she said as if trying to teach an ignorant child. "Well, to such an isolated world so early in its development, I suppose it might not seem that unusual. But you have to understand how rare humanity is in the wider galaxy compared to almost every other species. Humanity is the exception to a rather important rule, and even that can be explained away due to ignorance thanks to the fog of ages.

“Every species out in the galaxy began somewhere, and each of those people can look back to their planet of origin and say, ‘This is home. This is where we first came from.’ Humanity alone is different. The common theory is that over twenty thousand years ago – if not far longer – the humans of the world of Coruscant sent sleeper ships out into the galaxy to settle other worlds. The people would be put to sleep – something akin to a combination of being frozen like Aloy once was, but more like the elven concept of uthenera – until they arrived at their destination, where they would wake up and establish a colony, claiming these other worlds for their own. And those colonies would become the core worlds of the Republic, and from there humanity would spread throughout the galaxy, forming permanent settlements so enduring that to this day. As for the particulars, it’s only a theory that Coruscant was actually the original human homeworld. Nobody truly knows for sure.

“This is why it’s far from uncommon to find previously unknown worlds inhabited by humans,” Beniko explained. “Humanity has been out in the galaxy for so long that so many worlds have developed their own unique cultures, completely separate from one another. It’s why Aloy and I never questioned why humans are here on this world in the first place. But I’m beginning to wonder if we should.”

Leliana refused to believe what she was hearing. Humankind could not simply have been put here by someone else. They didn’t come from somewhere else. The Maker created this world and everything in it. That could not be a lie. That could absolutely not be worth so little!

“Ah. I see you don’t believe me,” Beniko said, and the patronizing tone had vanished from her voice. “My apologies, truly. I should have considered that you still hold your creation myths close to your heart. So do the elves, and I wonder about the dwarves and the Qunari. Such things are the reason behind so much conflict between your societies, and it is precisely why Aloy and I find the religions of this world to be little more than superstitions and nothing else. In our experience, creation myths are no more than stories from the distant past that were told to explain that which we did not yet have the wisdom to know for ourselves to be true. Out there, in the wider galaxy, we know where we came from. We understand how life evolves from something primitive into something that thinks and reasons, and eventually to something that travels the stars to meet other thinking and reasoning beings.”

Beniko closed her eyes and shook her head, her shoulders sagging. “It’s what makes Aloy cringe whenever someone calls her ‘Your Worship,’ because she knows that she is not some servant of the Maker.  In her mind as well as mine, she knows with absolute certainty that the Maker is just a story meant to provide you with answers to questions that you and your people are not yet able to truly answer on your own. I don’t say this to be petty or cruel, but to help you understand the larger picture of the universe so that you might better serve the people that you and Aloy wish to protect.”

Leliana shook her head and covered her ears, refusing to listen to any of this. “No, this is all wrong. You are wrong! You’re not Lana Beniko. You are not anyone at all. You’re just another Doubt demon, come to torment me, aren’t you?!”

“If I was such a thing, then how would I pull names out of the air – Rishi, Coruscant – that don’t reflect your own experiences?” Beniko posed to Leliana. “If you truly want answers, then ask Aloy. I’ll be sure to tell her that we had this conversation so that she knows to expect it. More than that, I don’t want her to think I’ve gone behind her back again. And don’t be afraid to act on your feelings for her. I know she feels for you as well, Leliana. And I… I don’t know if I can remain attached to my beloved forever. And even if I can, I don’t believe that I should. Aloy herself said to Corypheus’s face that all things must die. I wonder if I have lingered overlong already.”

“Yes,” Leliana spat angrily, overcome with emotion. “You have definitely lingered here for quite too long already. Please, if you aren’t a demon, then just… Just leave me alone.”

Beniko’s blazing yellow eyes actually looked rather sad. “I’m sorry, I truly am. Be well to yourself, Leliana.” So saying, the ghost of Lana Beniko faded into transparency, and then she was gone.

And Leliana was alone once more in the desolate emerald dreamscape that was the Fade. The Maker’s domain, or so she had always been told was the truth. But if it wasn’t true, and if humanity on Thedas wasn’t the work of the Maker...

Leliana fell to her knees and buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely as fear and grief took hold of a lost and weary soul. In her darkest, most secret moments of despair, Leliana would find strength in her faith in the Maker when there was nothing else. Now, however, in the face of the most terrible of all possibilities, Leliana wanted nothing more than to be held and comforted by Aloisia Kallig.

After the initial supper with Solana Amell, Kallig had spent the next full day with the Warden-Commander going over the state of the Grey Wardens, red lyrium, the Blight, and all sorts of weird magic crap that The Iron Bull would really like to simply hit rather than sit around talking about it. But then, he wouldn’t be in the Ben-Hassrath if he was only good for hitting things. No, you had to know how to hit something, not to mention where and when. And you had to be sure that the thing you were hitting was worth hitting in the first place.

Darkspawn, demons, and Venatori were all things that The Iron Bull could safely say needed to be killed and let that be the end of it. As for the Inquisition – ‘Foundation’ was just a pretty lie for what the organization really was – and whatever sort of bas its leader might be…  The Iron Bull couldn’t properly narrow their definitions to something properly precise, at least for now.  Kallig had been openly suspicious of him from the start, so he didn’t bother trying to warm up to her like he would one of the Chargers. And even if he did, they would still be entirely different. The Inquisitor was a woman of power and influence, but the Chargers were his people and no one else’s.

Well, no, that wasn’t true. They were more than just the Bull’s Chargers. They were their own damned people, and The Iron Bull had handpicked each and every one of them not only for their skills, but for who they were and for how they got along with each other. The Qun was The Iron Bull’s family, but the Bull’s Chargers were another family in their own way. One day, he knew he'd have to discard the Chargers, and he was not looking forward to that day.

For the time being, he settled on observing the Inquisitor. The first thing he’d noticed – apart from the intelligence reports he’d received – was that she was a redhead, complete with all the sex appeal that came with it. More than just her hair, she seemed determined to give off an image of fire. It was the paint in her armor and the light of her sword. The only thing about her that didn’t project an image of flames was, strangely enough, the magic on her hand that let her close the rifts.

The Chantry on the whole seemed to have a collective hard-on for fire. Everything The Iron Bull knew said that Kallig had owned her fire-sword before becoming part of the Inquisition, but that didn’t lessen the mystery of the sword itself, much less the woman wielding it. She hadn’t caused the Breach, he was sure of that. She had the mantle of a messiah thrust upon her, but she only acted like one when the need was there.  But there was something to be said for the south's fascination with fire.  It was a form of power that could both give and take life, and Kallig's association with fire had only grown since the Breach had exploded into being.

Aloisia Kallig was not a stupid woman, and The Iron Bull didn’t think for a moment that she actually believed herself to be holy.  Another layer to the woman was her supposed history, which didn't entirely add up. There might be some truth there, but even that wouldn't be the complete truth. Her outburst at dinner had told him that she had indeed been a slave, but he didn’t know of any Vint mage who would enchant his entire house in the way that she had described. Maybe there were Vints with estates that large in one of the bigger cities, but none so far from Minrathous as to lend credence to her claims of escape to the south.

The Iron Bull’s biggest worry had been when Kallig had come back from the dead after the attack on Haven. He hadn’t expected it, and he knew that a demon could take over a corpse, but she acted too similarly to how she had been before her supposed death, and mages and Templars both vouched for the absence of any demon inside of her.

In spite of that, Kallig had been far too ready to remain behind to face Corypheus alone. From what he’d heard, she was far more confident of her survival than she had any right to be. And when she had survived – or come back, or whatever had happened – it had caused The Iron Bull to wonder just what she truly was. Kallig looked human, she acted human, but there was more to her than that. She had powers both like and unlike most mages, and that unknown part of her was likely the source of her ‘return from the dead.’

And just like that, she had gone from a possible messiah in the eyes of the people to a living miracle. Had she wanted to, Aloisia Kallig could have called upon her followers to do anything in her name, and they would have done it. But instead, she sowed the seeds of doubt towards the Chantry as an institution while offering herself as someone to follow for real, positive change in Thedas that was too long in the coming.

It was a soft and subtle thing, but Aloisia Kallig had taken her first steps towards conquering Thedas on that night in the mountains. It was a revelation for The Iron Bull. Some of the changes that she was implementing were things that the Qun would see as right and just, while others were far too extreme, not to mention in the wrong direction. Embracing magic like Kallig had would never see the Qun accept the new Thedas that Kallig was forming. All the same, it could make things that much harder for when the Qunari inevitably did march on the south. If mages were free to work unimpeded, and with safeguards in place to make sure that they were in control of themselves, then they would put up far more of a fight than Circle towers that could simply be bombed out of existence.

Putting aside the magic crap, Kallig truly did put her money where her mouth was. That Chevalier she had humiliated before executing had been brought into the Inquisition – or the Foundation, as it liked to call itself now – based on intelligence that The Iron Bull had provided to her from his Ben-Hassrath contacts. Why Kallig hadn’t known about how Chevaliers got their precious feathers, he didn’t know. Her reaction was telling, however. She put the life of a servant above that of a nobleman and a warrior, and she had put the attempted murder within the Inquisition as a matter of murder within a family.

Aloisia Kallig was the undisputed matriarch of the Inquisition, and while the Chantry liked to talk (and lie) about how the Maker was concerned with the least of his children, Kallig actually did show that concern, and to lethal effect. She was a warrior, she was a mage, she was a leader, and she was a symbol. And then the meeting with the spirit had proven that she was a Commander. He had been poking at her, seeing how she would respond when he said he was disappointed in her. Her response had been a surprise, but not a disappointment.

The only real disappointment that The Iron Bull felt was that Aloisia Kallig was definitely the best thing to happen to southern Thedas in all of its recorded history - save for the not-so-small matter of embracing magic - and he was going to have to tell his superiors how to undermine all of the progress she had made and was continuing to make. He’d always have a home back in Qunandar, but his Chargers would never be able to come with him, and they’d fight like hell to defend their homes as surely as any son or daughter of Seheron did.

Aside from all of this, there was something else going through The Iron Bull’s head as he rode with Kallig, Hawke, and Varric back towards Haven. Solas had been with them last night when they had made camp, and now he was nowhere to be seen. Varric had asked if they should wait for him, but Kallig had made a show of being angry with the elf and not caring to wait for him.

That she was angry with Solas was plain to see, and The Iron Bull could understand why. The man wasn’t just an asshole, he was also far more dangerous than he tried to let on. There were no flaws in his fighting technique that he could see. Wherever Solas had learned his craft, it had turned him into a very, very dangerous mage. He was also probably a spy himself, but The Iron Bull had no idea for whom he might be spying.

More than her dislike of Solas, Kallig had made clear that he was a resource that she couldn’t just toss away even if she wanted to. The likely conclusion was that sometime in the night, when The Iron Bull had been asleep, one of Kallig’s people had taken Solas away to be interrogated. If it was true, then it had been done very carefully and very boldly. It showed that Kallig understood the severity of a threat so close to her side, that she had people who could do what needed to be done, and that she had the will to deal with such a threat. It was a damned shame that she was a mage with her current attitudes towards the Qunari. Had she been born into the Qun, she would have taken them very, very far.  Or maybe not, given that she'd be treated as Saarebas.

The horses balked before the sound rent the air. A loud, predatory roar that warned against further trespass. The Iron Bull felt both his lips and his manhood turn upward. “Dragon,” he said eagerly. “What do you say, boss? Do we kill it?”

“Please say no, Red,” Varric said. “We’ve already got darkspawn and demons to deal with. Do we really need to add a dragon?”

“Yeah,” Hawke agreed. “What Varric said.”

Kallig didn’t look afraid in the slightest, however. No, she too was grinning. “I don’t think so. Leaving a dragon here uncontested would threaten the people we just freed from the fear of the undead. But, if you don’t want to face it, then stay here and watch over the horses and our supplies. Bull? You told me when we first met, ‘the bigger the better’ when it came to dangerous enemies, unless I’m mistaken. Care to join me in taking care of this? If nothing else, dragon scales are supposed to make excellent armor. The Warden-Commander mentioned a smith named Wade that I’m thinking we will need to hire if we can procure a full dragon’s worth of scales for him to work with.”

The Iron Bull let out a genuine laugh of joy. “Aww, yes! Let’s do it, boss!”

“What? Just the two of you?” Hawke said. “You’re both insane, do you know that?”

Kallig laughed as she dismounted. “I prefer the term ‘differently rational,’ if it’s all the same to you. Come on, then, Bull. Let’s go take down a giant, flying, living death machine!”

“Fuck, yeah!” he agreed as he dismounted and ran towards danger alongside Kallig. The two of them raced downhill towards a lake with ruins on the beach. The dragon soared overhead, circling the ruins that probably served as its nest.

“What do you think, Bull?” Kallig said. “Do you want to go up to it, or do you want me to bring it down to us?”

And with those few words, The Iron Bull was brought back to the scene of Kallig dealing justice to that chevalier. She had held him in mid-air. “You’re talking about blood magic, boss,” he said in a low, soft voice that spoke of deep dissatisfaction.

“Ugggh! No, I do not use blood magic, and I never have!” Kallig said angrily, with the sound of someone who has had this argument before. “It’s simple telekinesis. That is movement with my mind. If you’re thinking about Jean-Gaspard, I didn’t seize his blood, I seized him in his entirety. I picked him up with my mind the way you might pick him up with your arms. It’s no different than a rock,” she said as she held out her palm, and a rock a few feet away on the beach flew over to her before it began to hover in a circle above her open hand.

“Or, if you want proof that what I do isn’t harmful to a living being, then watch carefully, Bull.” So saying, Kallig let go of the rock and lifted up one leg. Then she lifted up the other, and she remained in the air. She crossed her legs into what could be called a lotus position, and then he felt a current of wind begin to flow from behind him. Before he could blink, Aloisia Kallig was floating in midair surrounded by a shield of wind.

“Separation is an illusion, Iron Bull,” Kallig said, like a tamassran tutoring a young child. “Things may look different, they may seem different, but the Force makes no such distinctions. Separation is the greatest of all illusions, and one of the hardest to dispel, but it is an illusion all the same.” The wind died down and her feet touched the earth once more. “So I ask you again, Bull: do we go up to the dragon, or do I bring it down to us?”

Part of The Iron Bull wanted nothing more than the chance to ride on dragonback before driving his sword between its vertebrae, but even he knew the difference between a healthy risk and a suicidal one. “How do you plan to bring it down, boss? It’s a bit bigger than you or me.”

Kallig chuckled. “Size is just another illusion. Observe,” she said as she reached out with one hand and closed it into a fist. The dragon’s wings folded into its body as if they were being crushed by some unseen hand. Only it wasn’t unseen at all. It was Kallig’s literal hand that was doing this. More than just the power of the display was the subtlety of it. He had expected her to drag the creature to the ground, but she had chosen to manipulate its limbs instead. Almost literally surgical in practice. “Get ready to pounce, Bull,” she said.

As the dragon came crashing down in front of them, Bull roared with joy as he charged into the fray. Hacking at the dragon’s legs to hinder it, he shouted in Qunlat, “This fight will give me a long and lasting erection!” Kallig didn’t need to know what he was saying, but he couldn’t help himself from expressing his joy at fighting such an awesome foe. His only disappointment was that Kallig seemed to be keeping the dragon from fighting back. It was holding far too still to be natural.

Or so he thought until the creature’s tail pounded into him, knocking him aside. And then he was staring down the dragon’s gaping maw. Oh, this was fun! “Do it!” he shouted in Qunlat. “Let me taste your breath of fury!”

The dragon reared its head back as if to let out a stream of fire or lightning or whatever it might breathe, but no such attack came. The dragon was certainly trying to use its breath to attack him, or so it seemed at first. No, the dragon wasn’t trying to attack at all. It was struggling to simply breathe at all.

Risking a glance to his side, The Iron Bull saw Kallig holding out one outstretched hand, her fingers folding in on themselves slowly. And as her hand closed into a solid fist, The Iron Bull heard a sharp crack of gigantic bones, and the dragon’s lifeless body fell to the ground, leaving a cloud of dirt and sand from where it had impacted.

The bigger the better was The Iron Bull’s philosophy when it came to dangerous enemies. He still felt that way, if only because a dragon was predictable in the danger it possessed. Aloisia Kallig was small only on the outside. Whatever power she possessed – the power to choke a dragon and snap its neck with just her own willpower – was far larger and more dangerous than anything The Iron Bull had yet faced. And some in the Qun think that she’s softening up the south for them!

“So,” he said casually as he got to his feet. “Not blood magic?”

“Not blood magic,” she confirmed. “As I understand it, the secrets of blood magic are taught by demons. I’ve long since learned not to let anything foreign into the safety of my own mind. Alas, I wish you could honestly tell me the same. It would go a long way towards me trusting you at my side.”

Now that was just rude. “That was a dick thing to say, boss. If you know the Qunari half as well as I think you do, you know I wouldn’t ever let a demon inside my head.”

“I didn’t say anything about a demon,” Kallig said. “But you told me yourself, when you told me about Seheron. You wanted help. You wanted to forget the horrors, and you wanted a new purpose. All you had to do was let them in, and that’s just what you did. You invited the re-educators into your mind. How do you know there isn’t something else in there that you don’t know about? You told me that the re-educators change your mind like editing a book, erasing some words and writing in new ones. How do you know that you’re the same person that you were before you let them into your head? And how do you know that there isn’t something written in a margin that you can’t see, just waiting to come and take control should certain circumstances force your mind to turn the page, for lack of a better term?”

Those words Kallig had said: ‘Let them in.’  The exact words that a demon would use, and now she was saying that the re-educators were the same as those monsters?! “You’re wrong, boss. The re-educators do what’s best for us.”

“Don’t kid yourself, Bull. You aren’t even The Iron Bull in their eyes. You have some title, some label that isn’t even a name, and that’s what the Qunari see you as. You may think yourself a person, and you may want to be a person, but for all that Solas is a major pain in the ass, he’s right about the Qunari. If I’m right, then Koslun was a genius when he founded the Qun. He created a society that followed his tenets so unwaveringly that his will is still being enforced centuries after his death, and anyone who tries to leave is hunted down and killed.

“You’ve admitted to me that you’re a spy for a group that doesn’t see The Iron Bull for who he is. They see an agent of the Ben-Hassrath and nothing else. And if they think that The Iron Bull isn’t what the Qun needs, they will tell you to turn yourself over to the re-educators, and you will eagerly let them into your mind, and they will erase The Iron Bull and write a new person over the words that used to be who you are now. Be honest with yourself and tell me if I’m wrong.”

As much as he wanted to deny what Kallig was suggesting, he was no fool. If his superiors thought that The Iron Bull, mercenary captain, was no longer of use to the Qun, then they would erase The Iron Bull and he would become whatever they needed. There was just one problem. He liked being The Iron Bull. He had chosen it as a name for himself, and it was a part of who he was.

Or had he chosen it? Had the Ben-Hassrath made The Iron Bull the person he was today? If so, then who had he been before that? What had he been before? What was he now?

Kallig sighed and shook her head. “We need to get going. You can think on the way back to Skyhold. Treasure it, by the way. Treasure the time you have to think freely as the person you are. I want to say that you’ll always be the person you are right now, but I don’t know what’s lurking inside you where I can’t see. And until I do, I can never trust you. How can I, after all, if you can’t even trust yourself? And if you did trust yourself, you would have been able to answer me about what The Iron Bull is to the Qun. Now come on, and let’s go.”

The fight with the dragon was entirely forgotten. The Iron Bull had a different, far more alien enemy to contend with now. Just who was he, really? What was he, really? Was he The Iron Bull, or was he Hissrad of the Qun? He had thought that he was both, but now he wasn’t sure if he was one or the other. Worse, what if he was neither at all?

It was a very long journey back to Skyhold. Long and excruciatingly painful, as a man struggled to determine who and what he truly was and what he wanted to be. For the first time, he found himself questioning himself, and the realization had him cursing Solas’s name. If that arrogant asshole had even the tiniest bit of truth about his views of the Qunari…

Whether he was The Iron Bull, Hissrad, or someone or something else entirely, he did know that he really wanted to hit something.

Chapter Text

Ar’atania leaned casually into the corner of the Foundation’s war room, her arms crossed across her chest with one leg bent over the other at the knee as she waited to see who would notice her presence first, assuming anyone did at all. Aloisia and her advisors began to file in, and a light brush against her mind told her that Aloisia had sensed her presence and was aware of her. Right, she was waiting for anyone without the Force to notice her. Ar’atania smiled at Aloisia's mental nudge. It was a subtle way of letting her know that she was being allowed to show off. It was a great relief to be allowed even this small courtesy. She needed every bit of relief after the interrogation she’d inflicted on Solas.

She hated herself for the lengths she had gone to. Having suffered the effects of castellan restraints firsthand, Ar’atania had needed to be persuaded by the seven others she had brought with her that there was too much risk with this particular unknown. And after everything that Solas had confessed – and he had confessed far more than she had imagined he would – Ar’atania could take solace in knowing that it had been worth using those vile castellan restraints to expose such secrets that would have otherwise laid waste to this entire planet. It didn’t make Ar'atania hate herself any less, but at least she had something to show that she hadn’t done anything frivolously.  One day, maybe she'd convince herself that it was enough.

Commander Cullen walked right past her to take his place at the table, and Lady Josephine was in a perfect position to see Ar’atania if she just tilted her head a few degrees to her left. The Nightingale’s eyes did a well-hidden sweep of the room before settling on Ar’atania for just a moment, and then she moved on. Good. At the very least, the two people who should be able to spot me were able to do so.

“Lady Steward,” Josephine began, her voice and her poise the model of courtesy as always, “the Grand Masquerade in Halamshiral is fast approaching, and we have been invited by none other than-“

“Thank you, Josephine,” Aloisia said with a smile. “I do apologize for interrupting, but before we begin today’s council, I feel it only appropriate to acknowledge its newest member. Don’t be shy, now. I can see you just fine, though I do wonder if I’m the only one. Honestly, people. It’s only mannerly to introduce yourselves when you meet someone new. I can’t be the only one to have noticed our guest waiting for us? Welcome to the Foundation. I am Steward Aloisia Kallig. And who might you be?”

“My Lady Steward,” Ar’atania said as she dropped to one knee, fully embracing the Cynthia persona.  She appeared as human as she had when she'd introduced herself to Leliana, and she wore brown leather trousers, a white cotton shirt with a black vest over it, black leather gloves and black hiking boots, the whole ensemble having been commissioned by seamstresses, tanners, and cobblers in Redcliffe.  They could use the business after what Tevinter had done there.

She bowed her head as she knelt, smiling to herself as she put on the pretense of pretending not to notice the surprised gasps and outcries from Josephine and Cullen. “My name is Cynthia, and I am a representative of a highly exclusive mercantile group stretching across the continent. We are the Consortium, and I believe you’ve already had the pleasure of another of our associates by the name of Tanya. We only offer our services to those clients we deem worthy, and your Foundation has attracted our interest. More specifically, you have attracted our interest, Lady Steward. I am here to place the Consortium’s resources at your disposal in whatever capacity you require.”

“A merchant,” Cullen spat derisively. “And what, pray tell, are your wares?” he demanded.

“We provide whatever our clients may require,” Cynthia answered evenly, her head still bowed. She was not Ar’atania anymore, not for this purpose. She had to be Cynthia entirely, not allowing herself to even reflexively react to any other name. “Monetary capital is quite easily to obtain, should that be your desire. That being said, anything can be a currency when measured judiciously. I believe that Tanya has already offered three gifts to you. A weapon and the promise of more like it, knowledge of the location of some of your people, and the means to rescue those people with haste. Have our services been to your liking, Lady Steward?  I do hope that we have not been found wanting."

“Tanya's services were very much to my liking,” Aloisia said. “Her gifts - the Consortium's gifts, I believe I should call them - were of incalculable value.  And please, do stand up. You needn’t bow to anyone in this room, and if I'm honest?  I dislike it when people place me above themselves. If you’re to be a member of this council, then it would surely do well for the rest of this Council - and the population of Skyhold on the whole - to get used to seeing your face.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Cynthia said as she stood up to look at the others. She hoped they didn't look too closely past the clothes she had bought for herself.  The skintight body armor she wore beneath the ensemble was solid black and not meant to be dyed, so she hoped that no one looked too closely through the seams  Even with a white undershirt, it was possible that someone might notice that the color of her face did not match the rest of her body.

Ah, but those were Ar'atania's worries.  Cynthia was quite happily in her element.  “Steward Kallig, Sister Nightingale, Commander Rutherford, Lady Montilyet, it’s an honor to properly greet you in person,” she said with a polite nod of her head and a small smile that threatened to become a smirk if anyone chose to look too closely at her.

“Th-the honor is ours, Miss Cynthia,” Josephine said carefully, ever the tactful diplomat. “I do beg your pardon, but I do not believe I have heard of this Consortium you represent.”

“That isn’t surprising," Cynthia replied casually. "We rarely make ourselves known. And when we do, we pride ourselves on our discretion. That being said, you should have been expecting me. The contract for our services has all of the requisite signatures affixed to it, and I'm almost certain that it can be found in the files in your office, Lady Montilyet."

“I… With all due respect, Miss Cynthia,” Josephine said, “I do not recall ever seeing such a document, nor do I recall signing anything resembling what you describe."  Josephine's eyes narrowed just a bit.  The woman herself probably hadn't noticed.  "Neither do I recall anyone else present ever submitting such a document, nor affixing their signatures.” And her voice had lowered. This was good.  Josephine Montilyet might prefer to resolve things courteously, but like any good diplomat, she had a solid spine for when a harder stance was needed.

“That’s entirely understandable, Lady Montilyet,” Cynthia said softly, her own smile becoming gentler and kinder as she gave Jospehine her own diplomatic mask. “But I can assure you that the document and the signatures are there, I assure you. For the benefit of those who do not mingle in certain social circles, I will gladly point out that I made no mention of how this document found its way into your file.  And for those who still need to keep up," Cynthia said, smiling as her eyes flickered over to Commander Cullen, "while the signatures have indeed been affixed, I never did say who it was that appended those signatures.”

Josephine's eyebrows lifted just a bit as understanding dawned, and then her face was perfectly calm once again.  Poor Lady Montilyet had been away from Antiva for too long, Cynthia imagined. Hopefully this would keep any further complacency at bay. Cynthia genuinely did admire Josephine, as did the faint traces of a person who may or may not have been watching from behind Cynthia's eyes.  Lady Montilyet was a true idealist who genuinely wanted peace and unity without violence. She was a gentle soul with the poor fortune to be born into such a miserable world that had yet to break her.

Before the ambassador could recover just a little bit more to verbally reply, the spymaster spoke up. “If such a document is indeed properly filed and in our possession,” Leliana said, “then might I assume that you have similar agreements with other parties in Thedas? Agreements that were made, perhaps, many years, decades, or even centuries ago, just waiting to be called upon?”

“You assume correctly, Sister Nightingale,” Cynthia said, baring her metaphorical fangs with a wicked white smile. “Access to such contracts is a resource the Consortium has chosen to place at Steward Kallig’s disposal.”

“My lady, I cannot stress enough that we cannot allow this woman into the Foundation!” Cullen protested. “Two of their number have already infiltrated Skyhold as if it were nothing! You cannot mean to invite them in further?”

“Only two, Commander?” Cynthia teased with a shameless smirk. “Are you sure of that?”

“Easy, Commander,” Aloisia said as she turned her head to face Cullen. “If it puts you at ease, I did arrange for the Consortium to send a representative to serve on this council back when Tanya helped me to rescue our people from Haven. I've been expecting the Consortium to send an agent for some time, though the identity of their representative and their timing was left up to their discretion. Trust me, Commander you do not want these people as your enemies. More importantly, if you do not wish to work alongside Cynthia, then you may take your leave of this war council. And if you cannot keep your opinions to yourself, then you may feel free to leave the Foundation entirely. She will have a voice here alongside the rest of us. Don’t misunderstand, Cullen. You’re a good man. Loyal, brave, and true. But you are not irreplaceable, and I can and will find another military commander should the need arise. The Consortium, on the other hand, is not a resource so easily replaced.”

Cullen scoffed. “You can’t honestly trust-“

“Yes, I can, Commander," Aloisia said, her voice lowering and her eyes narrowing.  And was it Cynthia's imagination, or had the room suddenly grown colder? "I can and I do trust Cynthia. I trust her more than you realize and far more than I am willing to say. I will, however, give you one piece of information this one time only, and I will leave you to draw your own conclusions, but you will draw them silently. Just know that I have been well-acquainted with the Consortium for a considerable amount of time before the Breach appeared in the sky. That is the beginning and the end of this conversation, Commander Rutherford. Am. I. Clear?”

Josephine tried to hide a gasp behind one hand, and Cullen’s eyes widened as he retreated a step back. “You don’t mean to say-” he began.

“Whatever you think I meant to say, Commander, you are not to ever voice it aloud. I believe you have an idea of what would follow if you did,” Aloisia said in a low, threatening voice.

“Perfectly clear,” Cullen said after a moment's hesitation before turning his attention back to Cynthia. “My deepest apologies. If you are at all what I suspect you to be… Well, the Lady Steward can only benefit from your presence, or so I hope.”

Cynthia's smile turned gentle and kind to reflect the kindness that Cullen was showing towards Aloisia, even if he didn't trust Cynthia herself. “Thank you, Commander," she said to him genuinely. "I am very glad that we could come to an understanding. And now that I have introduced myself, I have information of paramount importance to report. I trust this information only to the Steward and her spymaster. I am not exaggerating about the severity of what I have to say, and I need to report it as soon as possible. Commander Cullen, Ambassador Montilyet, if you could please excuse us?”

“Do as she says,” Aloisia said, firmly but not unkindly, before any protests could arise. “Leave us, and do not try to eavesdrop. Don’t come back to this room until either Leliana or myself comes to find you.”

“No,” Cynthia interjected. Aloisia turned to face her and gave a nod of her head as a sign to continue. “Best not to come back to this room at all for the rest of the day. I have a great deal to report and it cannot wait. Besides, I’d rather not put anyone here at risk. While I have faith in the Consortium’s discretion, I cannot give an absolute guarantee that we are the only ones able to have approached you as carefully as we have, and I cannot guarantee that such others may or may not have made themselves known to you. In business, there is no such thing as an absolute guarantee, and I will not take any risks that can be avoided.”

“Do as she says,” Aloisia said immediately. “I am very much aware of the resources at the Consortium’s disposal, and they do not exaggerate about such things. We will meet again tomorrow as regularly scheduled. If anyone tries to summon you back to this room before the regular time tomorrow, they are to be treated as are an enemy and an immediate threat to all we hold dear. Even if that person wears my face and speaks with my voice, do not listen to them. Do you understand?”

Cullen and Josephine seemed to be at a loss for words. This level of paranoia was clearly beyond what they were used to. Cynthia didn’t want to be the one to scare them out of their wits, but she had to drive home the possible dangers in the unlikely event that her resources fell into the wrong hands. She tapped a series of invisible buttons on her wrist, their positions and meanings long-since memorized, and Cynthia was suddenly a second Aloisia Kallig. “Do you understand now?” she repeated in Aloisia’s voice. “Do you understand what might happen if the wrong person should come into possession of the Consortium’s resources and take advantage of them? Do you understand why I insist on the utmost discretion? Commander? Ambassador? I’m waiting,” Cynthia said in an approximation of Aloisia's voice of command.

“That’s quite enough, Cynthia,” Aloisia said, and the hint of anxiety Cynthia detected in her voice made her regret this course of action, if only a little. “Take off that face. You’ve made your point.”

Another few strokes on her invisible wrist pad saw the second Aloisia revert back to Cynthia “As you wish, my lady. That being said, has the point been made?  Commander?  Lady Ambassador?"

“Very clearly,” Josephine said, her hands shaking. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I’m feeling a bit lightheaded.”

“Take the rest of the day off, both of you,” Aloisia said.  It was kindly spoken, but unmistakably an order. “Clear your minds and get used to the idea of having Cynthia around. We’ll start anew tomorrow. Understood?”

“Y-yes, Lady Steward. Please, excuse me,” Josephine said as she walked – very quickly – towards the exit.

Cullen simply glared silently at Cynthia before turning to Aloisia and nodding once in understanding before he, too, took his leave. Finally the door closed behind him.

“Say nothing yet,” Cynthia said before either Aloisia or Leliana could speak. “I need to make sure the room is secure. If you’ll allow me?” As Tanya, she had provided sound-dampening equipment to allow Aloisia to speak without fear of eavesdropping both in her own quarters as well as here in the war room, and now Cynthia went from corner to corner to double-check the integrity of that equipment. Thankfully, it all seemed to be in working order. After that, she did a sweep for electronic monitoring devices with a small hover-probe that she plucked from a pocket in her trousers and let loose to float around the room. The results turned up negative, and Cynthia let herself breathe a sigh of relief.

Before she would allow herself to continue, Cynthia put on what looked like a simple pair of spectacles, but the view through the lenses benefited from scanning technology for a number of spectra invisible to the eyes of most sentients. Infrared, heat, various forms of radiation, and more. All levels were thankfully normal here in the war room and in the immediately surrounding area. Alas, there was one possibility of intrusion to which Cynthia was blind. “Lady Kallig, do you sense anything? Magical or otherwise, that is? Please concentrate and take your time.  I'd rather we be thorough than hasty.”

Aloisia thankfully did not argue or ask questions, but closed her eyes, and to Cynthia's eyes she appeared to be meditating. Seconds passed in what felt like an eternity before Aloisia opened her eyes. “I can’t sense anyone else near this room, save for what is normal in the courtyard on the other side of the wall. Josephine seems to be taking you quite seriously as I can't sense her in her office.  As for magic, I don’t sense any active spellcasting, but I don’t know if there are enchantments that I can’t sense.”

Cynthia shook her head with a smile of relief. “Enchantments require glyphs, and I’m as positive as I can be that there are no such glyphs in this room. Not anymore, at any rate. We are as secure as we can be for now.”

“I won’t ask exactly what you consider to be ‘secure,’ Cynthia,” Leliana said, her voice sharp and serious. “I’m not sure that I would even understand. I am curious, however, as to what was so frightfully urgent that you felt the need to report it immediately, and to us alone.”

Cynthia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose in the hopes of forestalling an oncoming headache. “You should both sit down in chairs that you can lean back in. Or better yet, that you can sink into. Especially you, Aloisia. This will be especially painful for you to hear, and I hate to be the one to deliver such a dire report. Corypheus is a powerful and dangerous foe, but even he was just a pawn in another’s scheme.

“Sit down and brace yourselves,” Cynthia warned. “Then, I will share with you what I have learned about Solas.”

A day had passed since the woman who called herself ‘Cynthia’ had made her terrifying introduction, and Josephine was struggling to maintain her composure as she made her way to the war council that now included yet another terribly frightening (alien?) woman. Whatever revelations the self-proclaimed merchant had revealed to the Steward yesterday, the other business of the Foundation did not simply disappear.  The peace talks in Halamshiral was but the most urgent of a great many urgent matters that all required Lady Kallig’s attention.

Perhaps Josephine would end up early to the meeting, but better to be early and have time to prepare than to be on time and, in all practicality, far too late.  And if Josephine was honest with herself, she wanted to be early enough to see Cynthia enter the room with her own eyes.  The Consortium's agent had brought back unpleasant memories of when Josephine had dipped her toes into the pool of being a Bard, unaware at the time that the pool was a bottomless ocean.

After gathering some notes and affixing them to her clipboard, Josephine locked her desk and walked the short distance to the warm room to open the door and enter, only to be greeted with a very peculiar sight, even for these troubled times.

Aloisia Kallig was floating in mid-air just off to one side of the table, her legs crossed beneath her body and her hands clasped together in her lap. Josephine couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if the Steward’s eyes were closed.

She shook her head and chastised herself for her surprise. Lady Kallig had made no secret that she was a mage of a different sort than most Thedosian mages, but Josephine was hardly acquainted with magic at all, aside from as a topic for conversation with like-minded peers. Despite the chaos engulfing the world right now - chaos that people met in this room to try and bring to order - Aloisia Kallig looked quite tranquil and serene.

“Please, close the door Josephine,” Lady Kallig said, shaking the ambassador out of her reverie. “Close the door and let us speak together. It’s been far too long since we had a simple conversation, just the two of us,” Lady Kallig said as her right leg unfolded to touch the ground, and then the left soon after.

Josephine recovered as quickly as she could. “As you wish, Lady Steward,” she said before walking back a few steps to close the door to the war room. By the time she turned back around, Lady Kallig was standing before her, armored as always, with a warm smile on her face. “I do apologize for interrupting you in the middle of your… Your craft? I confess that when it comes to matters of magic, I am but a simple laywoman.”

Lady Kallig smiled and pulled out a pair of chairs, gesturing with one arm for Josephine to take a seat as she did the same. “I was just meditating. Trying to center my mind in the hopes of finding the best path forward. Part of me wishes to speak with one of Cynthia’s associates in the Consortium for her advice, but another part of me can’t help but recoil at the notion that… Well, I suppose I should elaborate a bit on this particular acquaintance. And please, Josephine: Don’t ask about my past with the Consortium. Just know that I do have a past with them, and that it should prove useful.”

Josephine sat down across from Lady Kallig and tried to understand the concept of magical meditation as opposed to what a Chantry sister might consider to be a meditative activity. Talk of the Consortium made Josephine’s heart start to beat faster, the memory of Cynthia transforming into the Steward before her eyes bringing her no small amount of terror. Then again, if Josephine understood correctly about the implications of them being Lady Kallig’s associates from before the Conclave, then the very notion of the Consortium itself was likely a fiction to lend credence to others from beyond the night sky who had followed in the Steward’s wake for their own purposes.

Whatever words Josephine might have had, she couldn’t seem to muster them, and she was grateful when the Steward continued speaking. “I should clarify that not all of the Consortium’s members are spies or assassins. Cynthia is a woman of many skills who has earned my trust, but the other person I am thinking of is a far gentler soul. I know of her by one name, but I don’t know what alias she may be using right now. Suffice it to say, I am of two minds about her gifts. Quite simply, she is a mystic who has visions of the future. These visions always come to pass, without fail. Or at least, that’s how they’ve been made to be.”

Josephine would be the first person to admit that she knew next to nothing about the practice of magic, but the notion of prophecy was entirely unheard of outside of schemers and charlatans. Despite that, there was a sky full of stars that she was entirely ignorant of. “Forgive me, my lady,” she said carefully, “but if these visions tell the truth without fail, then why would you be hesitant to accept the aid that such insight could provide to you? Would the Foundation as a whole not benefit from knowledge of events yet to come? Is that not what we are trying to do in regards to Empress Celene and the Grey Wardens?”

“Please, Josephine,” the steward said with a kind smile. “It’s just the two of us. Call me by my name, all right? I like to consider you a friend, and I’ve missed talking with you as just one woman to another. Are you all right with dropping the formalities, if only for a short time?”

On another day, Josephine might like that very much.  With Cynthia's presence - and all that it implied - looming overhead, Josephine had to muster the courage to put on a brave face for the Steward's behalf.  Lady Kallig might be somewhat approachable under normal circumstances, and even very kind. Beneath her lofty titles and accomplishments, there was a very real, all-too-human woman behind it all. So, Josephine would swallow her discomfort about Cynthia and let the formalities lie for the time being. “Very well, Aloisia,” Josephine said carefully. “So, why do you view prophecies in the way that you do? And is it at all different from gleaning knowledge from your glimpse into the future back at Redcliffe?”

Aloisia smiled, and her eyes seemed to light up as she rested an elbow on the table, and then let her chin fall into her palm as she leaned forward. “I’ve missed this. These debates on the mysteries of the Force and other matters of philosophy. To answer your question, Josephine, this associate from the Consortium has visions that always come to pass, but there is a reason for that. When she has a vision of the future, she does everything in her power to make sure that events will play out as she saw in her vision, as does everyone else in her society. The reality of prophetic visions is simultaneously simpler and more complex.

“When I was training to master my abilities, one of the most important lessons I learned was to exist in the moment. The past is immutable and unchangeable, while the future is always in motion. Every action has a reaction. As we are sitting here right now, there are so many actions – tiny and grand – taking place all across the galaxy, and each of those actions sends ripples through the Force like a pebble tossed into a pond. And there are so many pebbles being thrown all at once that trying to predict what the inevitable waves will look like… There are just too many possibilities. So I was taught not to worry about the past that can’t be changed, nor the future that is in constant flux, but to focus on the present. Such focus will make clear the roads from the past that led to the here and now, and it will reveal possible paths leading forward into the future.”

Josephine shook her head, but she smiled as she did so. It was so rare these days to see the steward – to see Aloisia – talk so passionately about anything at all and have it bring her such joy. This talk of philosophy was entirely unexpected, but Josephine welcomed it all the same. “I do not think I could live like that,” she confessed. “The past informs so much of who we are now, and we must always look to the future. At least, that is how I have always approached such things. In a negotiation, there is always history between two or more parties, and they are always worried about what might happen tomorrow or in the next year, decade, or century.”

Aloisia’s smile seemed to brighten. “Oh, I’m not saying that the past should be ignored, nor am I saying that we shouldn’t look to the future. But there is a time and place for such things. When it comes to matters of the Force, or else on the battlefield, such things are distractions that can prove fatal. The Force is like a river. You must be aware of the currents you find yourself in so that you can navigate them safely. You’ve already come from somewhere, and looking too far down the river will have you miss the shoals in your path.

“And that is the mistake that I believe that my friend in the Consortium makes. She tries to use her visions to map the river’s currents, so to speak, and then takes pains to navigate that map with exacting precision. But part of navigating that map is manipulating the currents so that they carry her to the end of the river. It’s seeing the end of the journey and taking the exact steps needed to complete it. For the rest of us, the future…”

Aloisia winced and turned away from Josephine, and for a moment, she looked like she was stuck between shame and fear. “My lady? Aloisia? Are you unwell?”

Aloisia shook her head. “I just had a flashback to when he… To when he was in my head! No matter how hard I try to forget, some things that he said just won’t go away, and I hate that he ever said anything worth remembering or considering. I suppose if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be such a dangerous enemy.”

Josephine covered her gaping mouth with one hand as she realized that Aloisia Kallig was confiding a very vulnerable moment with her. Unless she was mistaken, the ‘he’ in question was the being that had called itself Emperor of the Sith, a monstrous force that devoured entire civilizations. And that had spent years inside of Aloisia’s mind! No, this could not continue. “Please, there is no need to speak further on this, my lady,” Josephine said as she lowered her hand. “I will not force you to-“

“You’re not forcing me, Josephine!” Aloisia said harshly, and the ambassador couldn’t help but recoil in fear at the ferocity of those words. A moment passed, and the Blade of the Maker sighed and hung her head. “I’m sorry. This is not an easy thing for me to talk about, but I do need to say this aloud. I need to speak these words myself, if only to convince myself that the words are coming out of my own mouth, of my own free will, and that I am the one who is understanding this lesson from my own point of view. Please, Josephine… Please don’t leave me here alone,” she said, her voice cracking slightly.

It was quite surreal to see the Steward of the Foundation like this. She was so vulnerable and scared and entirely unlike everything that Josephine had always imagined her to be. She could not imagine how traumatizing all of this must have been for Aloisia, but such a good woman deserved comfort and solace, and Josephine would provide it as best she could. “I’ll be here for you,” Josephine said. “But if you need to stop at any time, then please don’t hurt yourself.”

“Thank you, Josephine,” Aloisia said. “When he was inside my mind,” she said, her voice cracking again, “he was trying to bring me around to his way of thinking. He tried to convince me of my true destiny, only he had his own designs for me. That being said, when he spoke of the future, he spoke truth. He said… He said that… He said that the future is not a river to carry us,” Aloisia said with staggered gasps. “It is… It is the ocean in which we drown if… If we are… If we are not prepared.”

As she finished speaking, Aloisia fell forward and began to weep. Josephine acted without thinking and was crouching beside her to hold the trembling steward in her arms. “It’s all right, Aloisia. He’s gone. He is not here, and he cannot hurt you anymore. You said those words yourself, all on your own. And if that is what you believe the future to be, then you can rely on all of us here in the Foundation to help you find your way. You will not drown in that ocean. You will chart a course through the tides and guide us all towards safe harbor. And if you need help, then you will have it. You need not carry this burden alone.”

Aloisia was shaking in Josephine’s embrace, and she was heaving tears of panic. Josephine did her best to hold her, to soothe her, to whisper meaningless words of comfort in the hopes that she could calm this remarkable woman who had far too much weight resting on her shoulders than anyone should be forced to bear. Eventually, her breathing began to steady, and Aloisia slowly rose to her feet and disentangled herself from Josephine’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I… I need to go and clear my head. We’ll meet at sunset instead of midday. Please tell the others. I’ll be in my quarters until then. Leliana and Il- Leliana and Cynthia have permission to come to me there. I’m sorry, Josephine, but there are some parts of my past that I would keep from you."

The Steward's voice was cracking as it rose and fell without rhyme or reason, and tears streamed down her face, her eyes widened and darting about as if looking for imminent danger.  "You’re a good woman and a good friend," she managed to get out through the shuddering of her body. "And I don’t want to expose you to any more pain, and… And I need to go, now!” she said, her voice rising in what was unmistakably a moment of pure panic

Without another word, Aloisia rushed to the war room’s door, opened the door very swiftly, and speed-walked out with what looked like a failing attempt to hold her head high. Josephine wished that she could go after her, wished that she could offer her any sort of reassurance that there was nothing to fear. The sad truth, unfortunately, was that the Blade of the Maker had suffered in ways that Josephine was not capable of understanding, and she was therefore powerless to help her. Blessed Andraste, watch over Aloisia Kallig. Grant her the courage to find her way forward, and grant her the strength to love herself enough to banish her fears.

Once Aloisia had left the great hall and was far enough up the stairs to her room, she ran as fast as she could, slammed the door behind her, and crawled onto her bed. She sat up on the matress and hugged her knees to her chest as she quivered with fear. “Lana!” she cried through shaky breaths. “I’m so sorry that I’ve been so mad at you, and I don’t know if you want to talk with me, but I need you, Lana! Please, my love! I need you!”

She couldn’t be mad at Lana anymore. She didn’t have enough energy to be angry. Aloisia was just so tired and afraid and she needed her beloved by her side. Why Lana appeared before her immediately with such a kind look on her face, without any questions asked, was beyond her comprehension. “I’m here, dearest,” Lana said, her voice full of love. “I’ve always been here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Aloisia saw Lana’s ghostly visage and heard her echoing voice, and the distance between the two felt much farther than it ever had before. She wanted to be held, needed to be comforted, desperately had to feel her lover rub up against her and reassure her that they would get through this. But that couldn’t’ be anymore, and Aloisia hated herself for being so selfish. Lana’s very soul was bound to her in the most intimate way, and here she was like a whiny child caught up on trivial, physical matters.

And then she couldn’t hold it in anymore, and Aloisia began to burst. “Oh, Lana! I’m so sorry! I was so hurt, and I needed time to sort things out, but I can’t go on without you anymore! And dammit, but I want to feel you in my hands and rest my head on your shoulder and cry into the crook of your neck and I can’t! I love you with all my heart, and I know you love me, and I hate that I’m letting something as petty as a need for physical comfort drive me to anguish but I miss you, Lana!

“I miss feeling you, I miss smelling you, I miss the taste of you. And we will never have those things together again, and I need them. It’s not your fault, and it’s not fair. It’s cruel and sick and I hate that we can’t have what we once were, Lana! I know you’re here with me right now, but I’ve never felt so alone, and I hate that I have to feel alone with you right here. I… I am a sick and twisted mess is what I am. So starved for a touch of flesh that I can’t find solace with the beautiful soul of the woman I love most.”

Aloisia sobbed into her hands, hating herself for her weakness, hating herself for her betrayal of her beloved. “I’m such a poor, misguided fool,” she said through closed, tear-soaked eyes. “How can I save anyone when I can’t even master my own fear? And I hate that he has so much power over me, even now that he’s finally dead and gone for good. But it’s not that simple, is it? No, hatred would be so much easier to deal with. The simple truth is that I’m afraid, Lana. I’m a coward, no more than a scared little girl who can’t save anyone. How could I? I couldn’t save you, Lana, and I can’t save myself anymore.”

The echo of a soft sensation rubbed against Aloisia’s cheek, and she winced and laid down on her side. Still curled in a fetal position, she rested her head on the softness of her mattress and continued to let out all of her fears. “I can’t imagine what you must think of me, Lana. I know I’ve tried to make it clear before, but for all that I love you, you didn’t live those years with him in your head. Never knowing if your successes were truly your own, and if those victories were even victories at all, or else just playing into his twisted game. You were there, in the throne room. He made me bow to him, and I couldn’t stop him. He forced me to tell him that I would obey his commands, even as I fought against it.”

Aloisia let out a harsh laugh, devoid of all humor. “And now, we have Solas’s confession and all of the horrific implications that come with it. More would-be gods, all of them far older even than him, and one of them has been using us from the start, even if only because the explosion at the Conclave wasn’t destructive enough for his designs. His damned magic is on my hand, and if I’m to even survive, I’ll need to retrieve his karking orb. And even if we defeat Corypheus, even if we bring some measure of balance to this world, we still have seven would-be gods stuck in the Black City, alone with nothing but themselves and that Force-forsaken throne.”

It might have been no more than her imagination, but Aloisia could have sworn that fingers were running through her hair. So soft, so gentle, and more real than they had any right to be, but it was enough to convince her that Lana hadn’t left her side. Aloisia hadn’t allowed herself to be this vulnerable in… Maybe not in her entire life, as far as she could recall. Truly, Lana was a gift from the Force itself for just being here for her in her hour of need.

“So we have one would-be god in our custody, presumably too weak to escape. We have seven more locked away in the Fade, though who knows how long that will last? And we have another one at large somewhere in the world, and this one has been taking far too active a role in things over the past decade. The Blight, Kirkwall, and now Leliana thinks that her daughter is an advisor to the Orlesian Empress. Is Morrigan truly her own person, I wonder? How much influence does Mythal have over her? She put a piece of her soul into a trinket for Marian Hawke to carry once, and who knows how big a piece is lurking inside this Morrigan? Solana Amell thinks that her traveling companion is a good woman beneath a cold façade, but what happens to her when Mythal comes to collect her due?”

Aloisia closed her eyes and crooked her neck backward, her head meeting soft purchase. “I hate her, this Flemeth or Mythal or whomever she is. I hate them all. Anyone powerful enough to put bits of themselves into other people, to use them as pawns and playthings. No different than him at the end of the day, but maybe even more dangerous due to how utterly petty they seem in comparison. Leliana won’t like it, but I swear to you, Lana, I will find this Morrigan woman, and I will help her as best I can. Nobody deserves to have their life stolen by the whims of a would-be god.

“It just proves that there’s something wrong with this planet, Lana,” Aloisia said, her fear turning to resolve as her mind began to work at the puzzle before her. “If the Veil really is an artificial construct that Solas created untold ages ago, and if the elves of his time truly were immortal… Even so, it’s not natural. Nobody is naturally immortal. If he has taught me anything, it is that such an extended life can only be bought with the lives of others. The healers of Voss also based their rituals around the flow of life from one person to another, but their practices are bound by actual ethics and mortality, thank the Force, and they didn’t cause anyone to live past their due date. As for where we find ourselves now, it can’t be a coincidence that the rest of the Rishi Maze is nearly devoid of life, and yet this one world is fit to burst with the Force. The Iokathi throne in the Black City is the key to all of this, I’m certain. And yet there are seven elven ‘gods’ stuck there with it, but there’s no sign of them using the throne so far as we know. Or at least, no sign of them successfully using it.”

And then Aloisia felt it: a tug at a tangled lock of hair on the back of her head. She had thought that she had felt the faintest sense of fingers running through her hair, as if to calm her down. This latest feeling had been truly tangible, and it had been sudden. Finally opening her eyes, wet with tears as they were, Aloisia took a moment to actually assess where she was and what she was feeling. Her head was resting in someone’s lap, and Aloisia turned her head upward to see who, exactly, had intruded on her privacy.

Her eyes widened in shock as she saw Leliana’s face looking down on her with a curious mixture of emotions playing across her face, but that was not the strangest part. Lana’s ghostly form was overlaid atop Leliana’s body, their respective gestures moving in concert as they took in Aloisia’s surprise. “What exactly is going on here? Who have I been baring my soul to just now?”

“Take her hand, Aloy,” Lana said gently, but it could not be mistaken for a request. “Trust me, Aloy.”

Aloisia did trust Lana, in spite of everything, and she needed her. So she did as she said and wrapped her fingers around Leliana’s open palm. “Lana is here,” she explained to her spymaster. “She just asked me to take your hand.”

“I see,” Leliana said slowly and softly, clearly choosing her words with care. “I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but I felt something deep in my soul, for lack of a better choice of words. There was something calling out, that said that you needed me, and specifically you needed to physically feel the touch of someone who cares for you. I don’t know why I listened to that feeling. It could have been some manner of magic to draw me from my post. But it felt so right and so true that I just couldn’t ignore it.”

“You heard my call,” Lana said. “I am glad. Thank you for being here for Aloy in a way that I no longer can.”

Aloisia felt Leliana’s body tense up beneath her in shock, and Aloisia herself felt surprise at what she was witnessing. Lana was bound to her alone, and yet she was able to make contact with Leliana… That was why she wanted them to hold hands, so as to establish a connection for them to communicate. “You heard Lana’s voice?” Aloisia asked.

“I- I did,” Leliana said softly as she exhaled. “She came to me in a dream once, in the Fade. I thought that perhaps she was a demon of some sort, but you were really there, weren’t you?”

“Indeed, I was,” Lana said. “Please, forgive me, Aloy. I was trying to give you space, and I followed a connection in the Force and found Leliana. I meant to mention this conversation, but you seemed like you needed a lack of distractions. Our chat was quite civil until I began ruminating on how humanity came to be on this world in particular. I speculated that perhaps they were brought here by someone else as opposed to a colony ship. Leliana, I truly am sorry for so casually dismissing a central part of your religious beliefs. I meant no offense, though perhaps that was inevitable in hindsight.”

“Yes, Lana. I think that may have been just a touch insensitive,” Aloisia agreed, though she couldn’t help but let the corners of her mouth turn upwards at the thought of any good Andrastian suddenly having the comfort of their faith torn out from under them. “But it is a good theory. I would wager a guess that it has to do with… Well, before I say anything more, why don’t we go over what exactly I’ve been babbling about to you, Leliana, that Cynthia didn’t cover in her debriefing regarding- Well, regarding everything, quite frankly. And let me sit up straight so that we can have a civilized conversation.”

Aloisia turned her body around and righted herself, coming to sit on the side of her bed facing away from the door and towards the balcony, with Leliana seated on her right. Their hands were still joined as the two women locked eyes with each other. Aloisia felt a strange mixture of comfort and discomfort, and she could sense a raging storm of emotions within Leliana as well. Hopefully, they could talk this out and it would all work out in the end. If Aloisia hadn’t been feeling so vulnerable, Lana might chide her for her optimism, which brought up its own manner of mixed feelings.

Leliana didn’t flinch away from Aloisia, for which she was thankful, but her blue eyes held a small amount of fear in them. Normally, such things were imperceptible on Leliana’s face, so she was probably feeling quite upset. “Well, the thought of humanity not coming from Thedas – nor from this world at all – is just so utterly outrageous. But the two of you seem to treat it as indisputable fact. I know that isn’t what Cynthia was talking about, but I hope you’ll understand if I’m not quite ready to dismiss a core tenet of what I understood to be the nature of reality quite so quickly.”

Aloisia nodded. “I do understand, believe it or not, what it means to have such a core belief shaken like that. Remember that before he became my worst enemy, I used to worship… I used to worship him as some distant deity who was never seen but always present, always watching. To have him turn on us, to prove himself a monster who devoured billions of his own people… The shock of it all still surprises me at times. It doesn’t change the reality of the situation, however. And given the nature of how life evolves, and given that there is no sign of any technology here that could have conveyed humans to other worlds, I have to say that it’s very probable that humans came here from somewhere else. Whether by their own will or by another’s, I can’t say just yet.”

Leliana laughed humorlessly, turning away from Aloisia for a moment. “Maker, no wonder you’re so disdainful of…” she said, trailing off as she realized the magnitude of everything in Thedas that Aloisia dismissed as unimportant or offensive. “I suppose that’s all secondary to everything that Cynthia got out of Solas. Was it just me, or did she look uncomfortable when I asked how she had managed to get so many answers, and that she could be so certain of their validity?”

“You weren’t mistaken, but I wouldn’t mention it again. The results were accurate, but it was an extreme measure. Again, please don’t mention it again,” Aloisia said, and her heart went out to Ilara for feeling the need to subject someone else – anyone at all – to the same castellan restraints that she had been violated with during her service to the Sith Empire. In Ilara’s case – not Tanya or Cynthia or any other masks she might wear – there had been no justification. She had talked down a threat to the Empire with her words and her will alone, never raising a hand in violence against Darth Jadus. But he had once sat on the Dark Council, and they had caged her mind for her defiance, never mind that Jadus had tried to exterminate great swathes of the Imperial populace. Solas, on the other hand, was a genuine threat, and while one could argue that such measures were justified in this case, Aloisia wouldn’t dare try to justify castellan restraints to Cynthia, no matter how they were ever used.

“I see,” Leliana said, her voice non-committal, before turning back to look Aloisia in the eyes once again. “Well, Cynthia certainly shared a great deal of information, a great deal of it no doubt blasphemous to any Andrastian who ever heard such things. There was only one thing that you mentioned that she did not, and that was the nature of the throne in the Black City. You said it was ‘Iokathi,’ yes? You mentioned Iokath and Zakuul as the two worlds central to your story before coming here. And you told me that your Emperor’s throne had literal power. I can’t believe I’m even asking this question, but are you trying to say that the literal Seat of the Maker – so far as we understand it – is actually a weapon built by an ancient, extinct civilization from beyond the night sky? And that this is the same civilization that made weapons so great and terrible that those very weapons went on to be seen as wrathful gods by the people of yet another star in the sky? Is that what you are saying, Aloisia?”

Aloisia let out a deep breath and made sure to look Leliana straight in the eye. “I believe that to be the case, and that is what I am saying, yes. However, I do not know that there is much of anything that we can do about it right now.” Inhaling deeply and closing her eyes, Aloisia held her breath for a moment before exhaling slowly through her mouth before finally opening her eyes. “I’m sorry about all of this. I had to escape from a panic attack, and now I’ve gone and burdened you with all of this. I think we might both be better off focusing on something else for the time being. The peace talks in Halamshiral are almost upon us, yes? Can you give me an update on the status of the event and our preparations for it?”

Leliana nodded and got to her feet, pacing the length of the room in front of Aloisia’s bed. “Yes, the Grand Masquerade. We’ve received invitations from Grand Duchess Florianne, who is in charge of putting together the entire party. She is the younger sister of Grand Duke Gaspard, and the two of them are both cousins of Empress Celene. I am sorry to say that I do not believe you will be able to wear your armor to this event. Carrying your lightsaber would be a risk, but it could also be a bold statement proclaiming that the Blade of the Maker will not go anywhere without her eponymous weapon.”

Aloisia nodded. “I see. I do remember the key members of the Orlesian royal family, but thank you for reminding me. We will need to talk with Cynthia about securing dress garments that can double as armor. She always did have an affinity for craftsmanship. I’ve never seen someone weave cortosis into cloth like she could. Who among us will be expected to attend?”

“You, naturally,” Leliana said. “Cassandra and I will be expected as well, being the hands to Divine Justinia. Josephine and Cullen as well, most likely, as well as a handful of guests that you may wish to bring to accompany you, personally. I have also been calling upon agents that have long been in place in Orlais to have themselves be present at the Winter Palace, and to be ready to act should any need arise. Many of these agents are elves, and a great deal of them are sympathetic to Ambassador Briala, and some serve both of us at any given time. If you wish, I can use our network to convey a message to Briala if you want to try and get her on our side. She might want to know about her mentor’s faith in her, and the lengths that Felassan went to that led to Solas executing him. Such a move could gain us an ally while also helping to mitigate the threat that Solas could pose should he ever escape.”

Aloisia nodded. “That all sounds good, but I want Cullen to remain behind and oversee preparations for the assault on Adamant Fortress. He’s very… Fereldan, for lack of a better word, and he’d likely be more hindrance than help in Orlais. And we need him here getting ready for the upcoming siege. Blackwall - whomever he is - should also stay behind.  He can help with training our soldiers. And I think Cassandra should stay behind as well.  She's one of our best soldiers, and she's also far too earnest and genuine for what I imagine Orlesian parties to be like.  Aside from that, I think that having the Champion of Kirkwall in attendance as a guest of ours could prove a worthwhile distraction, though she’ll likely hate me for it.

"We’ll have to bring Varric as well. Dorian might actually know some of the people there, and Sera… She’ll hate it, but I may have to bring her along as my ‘personal servant,’ if only to give her an opportunity to skulk about and get the truth out of the servants. Let her be Red Jenny for a little while, I say. And Iron Bull should be there as well.  Better to have the Qunari spy where we can see him and hopefully working for us instead of back here with Adamant waiting in the wings.  And Cole, of course!  If he remains as inconspicuous as he is usually, then all the better.  And that is everything that comes to mind.  Now, is there anything else, Leliana? Anything I've proposed that you disagree with, or any other matters that require my immediate attention?”

Leliana shook her head. “Cassandra will definitely be missed, but it will send a message about the Foundation's priorities.  I do believe that Cullen should send a subordinate in his stead – someone ranked high enough not to cause offense – so long as they aren’t essential to organizing the attack on Adamant. And lastly… It hasn’t been a cause for concern yet, but I hope you know how to dance? You will almost definitely be asked by any number of people of great power and influence, and your performance on the dance floor could be just as momentous as any battle against demons or Venatori.”

Aloisia felt her breath hitch in her throat. She had danced at a few functions in Sith society, as well as some truly horrendous Zakuulan celebrations after victory in the war against them. Cantina dancing most assuredly didn’t count, and Aloisia wasn’t good at that sort of dance, regardless. Even so… “I’m sure that there will be dances that I am unfamiliar with. If Josephine has some time, then I’d like to practice with her, or else whichever tutor she can manage to find in such a short span of time.”

Looking up at Leliana, Aloisia shook her head and closed her eyes. “It should be you that I ask to help me with this, but I… I just can’t right now. I need to reconcile with Lana, and I need to clear my head and come to terms with my own feelings, whatever they are. Maybe someday soon, but not now. I’m sorry, Leliana.”

The spymaster’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, and Aloisia knew that she had caused Leliana some manner of pain. “I see. I’ll be sure to talk with her as soon as possible about it,” she said as calmly as ever. “If there’s nothing else?”

Aloisia shook her head. “No, thank you, Leliana. If you’ll forgive me, I need a bit more time to myself. I promise to make it back downstairs as soon as I’m able.”

Leliana nodded. “I understand, Aloisia. Or I’d like to think I do, at least, but I’m honestly not sure. But do take care of yourself. You’re a good woman who has been put in an impossible position. I know you’re doing everything in your power to do right by everyone, but… We’re all here if you need us, you know?”

“I know,” Aloisia said with a nod. “Thank you, Leliana, truly. That will be all for now.”

Inclining her head without another word, Leliana walked past Aloisia until she heard the door open and then click shut behind her as she was left alone once more. No, not alone. Not ever, not truly. “Lana, are you still there?”

“I’m here, dearest,” Lana said, appearing in front of Aloisia and crouching down to meet her. “What do you need of me?”

“Just… Just be here with me, Lana. Let’s just be here, together, for a little while longer. Force, I’ve missed you!” Aloisia said, her eyes watering.

“I’m here, my love. And I’m not going anywhere,” Lana said.

The two of them stayed like that for a time, just existing together and taking joy and warmth from the other’s presence. Some would say it wasn’t much, but in the moment for the two wives, it was the entire universe. Thedas could wait for a short while longer. For the time being, Aloisia Kallig and Lana Beniko simply basked in the glow of their mutual love.

Chapter Text

Midday had come and gone two hours ago in Halamshiral, where Aloisia was double-checking all of her preparations and those of retinue of companions who would be accompanying her to the Winter Palace come nightfall. The nobility of Orlais would be sure to be wearing the most extravagant designs, and their faces would be covered by decorative masks that would serve as much as a coat of arms as anything else. For the Foundation’s part, their personnel would all be wearing simple black tunics, trousers, and boots. These would be accompanied by gold-colored epaulets and gloves, with shimmering, fire-orange fabric serving as a sash and waist-wrap. Aloisia would also be wearing a plain, leather belt from which her lightsaber would hang, acting as a dare to anyone who might think to object to its presence.

The dress attire itself was more than just humble fashion. Cynthia had taken an early look at the designs that a tailor had provided back at Skyhold, and then recreated said designs in exacting detail, but with some certain practical differences. Cynthia’s cloth was near-impossible to tear, even with great effort. The swipe of a dagger would not cut the cloth, and it would only be penetrated by two or three direct and forceful stabs. Alas, such stabs would still exert physical pressure, even if they didn't come close to touching flesh. Better still was that that thanks to the cortosis woven into the cloth, a lightsaber would merely burn the cloth on the first hit, only searing through the cloth on the second. A blaster set to kill, Cynthia assured her, would be absorbed and distributed throughout the weave rather than harming the wearer, though a blast set to stun could circumvent this and incapacitate the target.  The Foundation would come to the Winter Palace fully armored for both social and martial warfare.

Aloisia, Leliana, and Cynthia had decided to keep secret the protective nature of the Foundation’s formal attire in the event that someone’s lips were loosened by alcohol, sex, torture, or something else entirely. As far as anyone else was aware, they were wearing ordinary formalwear.  Josephine had thankfully approved the designs and hadn't noticed any of Cynthia's changes. Aloisia envied Josephine's ignorance, allowing her to focus purely on happier things like aesthetics and the potential for a peaceful outcome.  She was a kind and optimistic woman with a gentle heart that only slightly dipped into naivete, and Aloisia regretted that there were so few people like her the galaxy.  

Once they left for the Winter Palace, the Foundation's retinue would be leaving almost all of their weapons and armor behind, and Aloisia had absolutely no confidence in the safety of her belongings should they be left unattended anywhere in Orlais. While others were similarly concerned, only Aloisia was panicking about the possibility of losing something irreplaceable, with Varric as a slight exception due to his attachment to Bianca.  Despite this, he seemed relatively comfortable with storing his crossbow in a supposedly secure deposit box. Aloisia had gone a step further to protect her armor and Lana’s lightsaber by designing a strongbox before leaving Skyhold. Cynthia had been the one to build it, with simple interlocking bars locking it shut, but inside of the strongbox, and only accessible by someone who knew where to look for the locks, knew how they worked, and who could move them telekinetically.

It wouldn’t be long before they had to start making their way to the Winter Palace from their guest suites a short distance away in an upper-class district of Halamshiral.  Meanwhile, Aloisia was frustrated that everyone was insisting that she could not dress herself for this occasion. Josephine had cited her unfamiliarity with Thedosian formal attire, and had also argued that a skilled tailor could instruct her best on how to move without wrinkling the fabric and giving a poor impression. Aloisia didn't really give a karking kriff about what these people thought of a wrinkle in her shirt, but she knew enough to realize that when in Orlais, do as the Orlesians do.

So it was that a tailor was measuring her and preparing to dress her, making minuscule adjustments to her garments as he saw fit.  Very strangely - or perhaps not so strangely - certain of Aloisia’s companions had insisted on being present for the fitting, having decided that this was a heretofore unseen opportunity to behold the Steward of the Foundation unarmored. Never mind that she would be accompanying them without her armor for the entirety of the evening, but she allowed it all the same. If she allowed them to see her in a relatively vulnerable state, perhaps they might feel more open and less afraid around her in the future.

Varric, Dorian, the Iron Bull, and Sera were all watching from their own spots on the edges of the room as Aloisia stood in the center while an Orlesian man wearing a half-mask was currently measuring the circumference of her breasts, because she apparently needed to be measured for appropriate lingerie, or so the tailor said. One could never foretell where such a night might take someone, he had reasoned. Aloisia's thoughts drifted to shortly after her talent with the Force was discovered.  It would take some time before she would earn the right to set foot on Korriban, but Aloisia had fought and trained in a preliminary academy where clothing was a privilege that one earned only after proving their worth. Such training had eroded any shame Aloisia might once have had about nudity, and it had also taught her that she could look at a naked man and feel nothing while she trained her mind to forcibly ignore a woman's bare body.  And now, here in Orlais, Aloisia forced herself to power through feelings of vulnerability rather than shame as she stood naked in front of her companions.  Allies they might be, but Aloisia found it harder than she wished to trust anyone, even when that trust had been earned.

With her back to her companions at the moment, Aloisia had had a limited view of her companions through the mirror she stood before, and she wondered what each of them might think about seeing her in the nude. The tailor, one Terrence DuGalle, was a professional, and his reputation did rely on a certain level of discretion.  The Iron Bull was a Qunari, and was more alien to her than a good many other sentient beings from other worlds, and Aloisia had no idea what he might read into her naked flesh.  Dorian looked on politely wit a bit of a smile as if she was a very interesting sculpture who happened to be his friend, but thankfully nothing more than that, given his own proclivities.  Varric felt slightly unsettled in the Force, though Aloisia could see that he was trying his best not to show his discomfort. And Sera's was shamelessly staring at her with a positively giddy grin.  Aloisia herself felt uncomfortable with the need for this fitting in the first place, but she held no real ill will towards anyone involved in the decision making, let alone the tailor or her companions. Let them stare a while longer. Maybe they'll even start to see me as a woman and not as an object of worship, she thought.  If only I could do the same with the rest of the world.

“I thought they’d be bigger,” Sera said as she seemed to suppress a giggle. “Not that they’re small or anything. It’s just… You’re a big person! Like, the biggest! Your tits should match that.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Sera,” Aloisia said with a grin of her own, “but this is who I am, and I’m quite content with that. Now then, Mister DuGalle, after the waist, the hips, the shoulders, the forearms, the upper arms, all of the various leg measurements and everything else, are you quite done with your measurements of my chest? Did you save it just for last for some reason?  Please say that this is the last of it? If so, I would very much appreciate it if you could give me something to cover it. And before you ask, I do not care about how the underwear looks, so long as it is comfortable and supportive. It need not exaggerate anything. Am I clear?  And did any of this work really require me to discard my undergarments?”

“Most clear, Your Worship,” DuGalle said graciously.  "And perhaps it is strange for you, but in Orlais, someone of your status deserves the best fit in every aspect.  I apologize for assuming that you would be comfortable with the Orlesian way.  An all-too-common habit for we who were born and raised here, I'm afraid."

"Then we're done here," Aloisia said firmly, ending any possible debate.  Looking around at her comrades, she allowed herself a small, wry smile. “Since this is probably the last you'll ever see me like this - as befits someone of my status, apparently - take one last look, because you probably won’t get another chance.  Ever.”

“Oh, I’m looking,” Sera said, finally letting herself giggle without any semblance of shame.

“I have to say, I’m surprised that you don’t have more scars to show from all your battles,” Dorian said. “I hear that some men find scars attractive. I’m not one of them, mind you, but should I suffer some horrible disfigurement in your company, then at least there will be someone out there just waiting to swoon at the sight of me.”

“What? You don’t get enough swooning already, Vint?” Bull asked.

“Not for some time, I’m afraid,” Dorian said. “While many men of good taste see the appeal of those with 'exotic' complexions, the South seems to have this nasty habit of biting back vomit whenever they realize I’m from the Imperium.”

“And that is a shame, Monsieur Pavus,” DuGalle said as he insisted on seating Aloisia down on a stool so that he could slip on some sheer black hosiery. “You have an undeniable charm. It would be a shame for petty prejudices to stand in the way of you and happiness.”

“Why, you’re too kind, my good man,” Dorian said, and Aloisia could hear the preening in his voice. “Before it slips my mind, you’ve been awfully quiet, Varric. Please don’t tell me you’re just here for research for your next novel?”

“Well, mostly that,” Varric admitted. “Getting to see how the infamous Blade of the Maker acts when she isn’t armored up… It’s enlightening. And it’ll help whenever the inevitable romance reaches its climax, now that I have details.”

Aloisia imagined that she should have been offended, but she found herself chuckling at the thought. “But wouldn’t that be unfair to the partner of the main protagonist? Having only one of the pair’s details at your disposal? And that’s assuming that it is only a pair, of course.”

“Nah. You’re the focus of everything going on in the world right now, and the finished work will reflect that,” Varric said. “You know, this is twice that I’ve been caught in the middle of shit going on that’s way bigger than me, but this time, you really are the center of everything. As much as The Tale of the Champion makes Hawke out to be larger than life, most of that shit was happening around her, not to her. She just had shitty luck, I think, and I wouldn’t have thought she’d want to be here for some other big happening.”

Aloisia winced at the truth of Varric’s words. “I confess that Hawke’s comfort was not what I had in mind when I made her part of our group. Her charm and charisma – combined with her legend – are perfect for coercing secrets that others might otherwise never have thought to let slip.”

“That’s cold, boss,” Bull said. “Smart, but cold. You might’ve made a good Ben-Hassrath in a different life.”

“And that’s something we’re all just thrilled to hear,” Dorian quipped coolly.

“Yeah, but about Hawke,” Varric said. “Before we left Skyhold, she took me aside and said something... Well, I’m not sure what to make of it, but she said that she might seem a bit off while we’re here. And she was right. Ever since we left, Hawke’s seemed just a bit different. It’s in the little things, like how long it takes her to respond to something, or the way she tilts her head. Shit that you wouldn’t notice if you hadn’t known her as long as I have. And her voice has been… It’s like she’s trying to mimic herself. I dunno, but she mentioned it before we left, and she told me not to worry about it. But still…”

“Just a moment, Varric,” Aloisia said as DuGalle finally allowed her to stand again – now thankfully dressed with her formal tunic, trousers, and dress boots – before he began to work on her belt, sash, and waist-wrap. “All right. If it makes you feel any better, I can reach out and see if I can sense anything wrong with her, if only to rule out magic.”

Aloisia had a suspicion that someone had taken it upon themselves to meddle without informing her, but she had to be sure. Closing her eyes, Aloisia stretched out with her feelings throughout the grounds where the Foundation’s people were preparing for the masquerade. Two things stood out. The first was that Marian Hawke was definitely not present. The second was that Cynthia definitely was, though she hadn’t mentioned any plans to be.

She couldn’t help but chuckle. It was funny, in a way. Hawke definitely wouldn’t want to be here, but Aloisia had given her instructions, regardless. Hawke hadn’t objected, but perhaps she hadn’t felt comfortable doing so directly to Aloisia. Hadn’t Leliana been telling her about how her own advisors were often afraid to speak up to her? And when Cynthia spoke in basic – or the common tongue, as it was called here in Thedas – her voice was an uncanny match for Marian Hawke, despite them being born worlds and species apart. No doubt Cynthia had been studying Hawke at length ever since she arrived at Skyhold, or quite possibly before.

“Hawke is fine,” Aloisia said, careful to infuse some warmth into her voice. “At least from a magical perspective. If you’re worried about her, then I imagine you should talk with her about it. I would guess that she is simply not happy about being here, and is putting on more of a show than usual. Enough so that it’s visible even to you, Varric.”

“A moment, Your Worship,” DuGalle said as he finished tying the sash and waist. “If you will please repeat the movements I show you, you will be certain not to wrinkle your garments. Watch and repeat.”

“Very well,” Aloisia said as she followed the tailor’s instructions. Thankfully, the movements he was demonstrating weren’t far out of the norm for her, but he did step in to correct her very slightly a few times with her shoulders. “Are there any movements I should absolutely abstain from?”

“A very few. I will demonstrate a few minor variations of such movements which you should avoid in any measure,” he said before gesticulating certain extreme movements and a very few subtle ones. Most of it was common sense, but there were enough minor details that Aloisia paid the man due attention before he stopped. “Now, about your makeup-“

“No,” Aloisia said. “The fitting seemed proper, and I humored you about undergarments because I seemed to have taken momentary leave of my senses. But wearing makeup would be akin to wearing a mask, and I am not Orlesian. I would have people see me for who I am, without pretense. Let my actions and my words speak for me, with the latter being backed up by the former. Is there anything else, Mister DuGalle?”

Aloisia felt a sudden surge of fear in the tailor as his mind began to race. “There is one thing, Your Worship. If I may be so bold, it would most likely be appropriate for your ears only,” he said carefully. “Also, you may wish to inspect yourself to be certain that the attire is to your liking. I will wheel in another mirror so you can view yourself from behind.  It will be just a moment”

"Very well," Aloisia said to Terrence DuGalle as she gestured to the door with a small tilt of her head.  "Give us the room, please."

“Sure thing, boss,” Bull said as he left, followed by Dorian after he gave a quick nod to Aloisia.

“You look great,” Sera said. “I mean, you always look great. But you’re always wearing armor, and now I’ve seen your tits, and-“

“I’m gonna go check in on Hawke,” Varric said. “You wanna come with, Sera?”

“Yes, Sera,” Aloisia said with a thin smile and a wicked glint in her eyes. “Would you like to go with Varric?”

“U-uh, yeah. Sure. Gonna go now,” Sera said with a touch of fear in her voice, but not truly deep and genuine fear. She had simply been put in check and she knew it, and that was all.

“Good. I’ll see you all soon,” Aloisia said as she closed her eyes, waiting until she could feel that there was sufficient distance between them all that she could consider herself truly alone with the tailor.  The tailor came back with another full-length mirror on a stand with wheels and set it behind her.  Very briefly, Aloisia wondered what she would do if someone attacked her right now from either flank, with mirrors at her fore and her rear, but she set those feelings aside and turned her attention back to the tailor. "You had something you wished to say, Mister DuGalle?”

“Y-yes, Your Worship. A moment, please,” he said. And then he did something that Aloisia did not expect when he reached up and removed his mask to reveal a plain, modest face underneath with kind brown eyes. “I beg your pardon for this indulgence, but I ask only a few minutes of your time. I wish to speak not as a tailor to his client, but as a man in need of answers from the Blade of the Maker.”

Oh, no.  This was a situation that Aloisia had very reluctantly been forced to grow accustomed to, and it never failed to make her feel immensely uncomfortable. But no, this was different, she realized.  Such situations at Skyhold were from people who were part of the Foundation, who were her own people.  This humble tailor was one of the people whose lives she was trying to improve, but Aloisia truly knew very few such people at all.  She made a mental note to get of Skyhold more often and make time for the concerns of people like this, however uncomfortable it made her. “I’m listening, Terrence,” she said gently, using his given name in the hopes it would help him to relax even a little bit. “Please, take your time.”

“Thank you, Your Worship. My younger sister, Geraldine, has always been a gentle soul. She committed herself to the Chantry as soon as she was old enough and studied enough, but she was not so much interested in spreading the word of the Maker as she was in carrying out His work to those in need. With so many elves living in Halamshiral, Geraldine thought to bring them aid and succor, but it was so difficult at first, as they did not trust anyone wearing Chantry robes, and she was ignorant of their culture. And the mothers did not approve of her visits either.

“Geraldine had a...  I believe the term is a 'crisis of faith?'  She eventually decided that if the Chantry would not help these people, then she would do so herself. She cast off the robes of Chantry sister and walked into the alienage as simply a woman seeking to understand those less fortunate than herself, and to help them if she could. She did not see the awful and pitiful creatures that we are all taught that elves are. She simply saw people with not enough food or clothing or safety, and in time, she was...  Not welcomed by the elves, but tolerated and given some small manner of trust. Indeed, she was there during the purge, and the start of the War of the Lions.”

Aloisia had been briefed on how the Orlesian Civil War had begun. Someone had commissioned a theatre production to mock the Empress for having an elven lover, the elves of Halamshiral's alienage stood up for themselves after one murder too many, the Empress led a slaughter of the alienage to offset the perceived damage done by a play that had mocked her, and then Empress Celene's cousin, Grand Duke Gaspard, ambushed her forces and did even further damage to the alienage once she had walked right into his trap. Aloisia couldn't help but admit that Gaspard's strategy was ingenious, despite it being just as equally cruel.

“Geraldine survived,” Terrence DuGalle continued, “and she tended to the wounded as best she could after the fighting had ended. For weeks afterwards, as more and more succumbed to their wounds, my sister began to lose faith more and more as the Chantry did nothing to help. They even refused her requests for bandages and medicine. giving such things instead to soldiers fighting for the throne. I am but a man, Your Worship, and seeing my brave sister risk her life and her honor day after day… She inspires me, and I am to this day ashamed that I have not done as the Chant dictates in my life.

“And then came the Conclave, the death of the Divine, and the birth of the Inquisition. Geraldine did not know what to think. All she saw was pointless death, and this distant figure claiming to be sent by the Maker was something she saw as merely another wedge dividing the people. And then came the attack on Haven, along with the rumors of your revival from death. But then, not so long ago, word came to Halamshiral of how you humiliated and executed a chevalier because he tried to harm an elven servant in your organization, and your message that the chevaliers' horrid initiation ritual would not be tolerated any longer.

“My sister felt her faith restored that day, Your Worship. And seeing the joy in her eyes, I realized that I too had felt my faith revitalized. I had not realized it, but I was deeply unhappy, knowing how my beloved sister was suffering because of the gentleness of her heart. She has been reaching out to others disillusioned by the Chantry for years now, but only since your proclamation to the Order of Chevaliers did she truly begin to believe again in earnest, and now she and I both are hoping to beg your wisdom in our path forward.”

Aloisia could sense the truth in Terrence DuGalle’s words, and she could feel how deeply his emotions ran. “Your sister sounds like a wonderful woman, and she is fortunate to have a brother who is so supportive and loving," she said as gently as she could. "If you have a question, I will do my best to answer as best I can, though I imagine you both can come to your own answers on your own. I don’t want you to give me too much credit and to give yourselves too little.”

“You are very kind, Your Worship, but I am afraid that we still have a great many questions. There have been rumors in the wake of the expulsion of Tevinter forces from Ferelden that the king and queen are making plans to establish their own version of the Chant, unique to Ferelden and its culture. Combined with your own deeds, my sister and I and several of her contacts were inspired. Quite simply, we want to bring the Maker’s word to the people the right way. The Andrastian Chantry has failed us, so we want to make sure that the Kalligist Chantry starts on the right path.”

Aloisia felt her breath hitch in her throat as her eyes widened in panic. She had already been elevated quite high enough by the people of this world, and this would be several steps too far. “I won’t accept that,” she said in a quiet, tense voice. “For all the good that Andraste is said to have done, the religion built in her name has undone so much of her progress. Her elven allies subjugated when she was no longer alive to protect them. Mages forbidden from serving others against her clear teachings. Clergywomen gaining personal profit by way of politics. The Chantry acts in Andraste’s name, but violates the spirit of her teachings. How many generations until all of my good intentions are lost, and opportunists begin using my words and deeds to further their own ends?”

Mimicking Lana, Aloisia brought her fingertips together at the bridge of her nose as she closed her eyes and tried to focus. “What you’re proposing, Mister DuGalle, is to elevate me to an object of worship. In doing so, I will become something more than just a woman to whomever reads this text you seem keen to write. In the process, I will, in all likelihood, become something far lesser. I will no longer be a person, but merely an idol that represents your interpretation of my desires for this world, and then for others to interpret or to misinterpret as they will. And in elevating me so, you will thus lower yourselves. You will enslave yourselves to what you imagine to be my ideals, and you will condemn future generations to repeat today’s mistakes someday, though they may culminate in a different form. I will not be worshiped in such a way. Am I clear?”

Perhaps it was because Aloisia had been taken so off guard that she hadn’t brought her full force of intimidation, but Terrence DuGalle did not cower before her criticism. His eyes widened briefly before he bowed his head respectfully. “I understand your concerns, Your Wor- My Lady,” he corrected himself. “I will do my best to relay what you have told me to those I know, but you should know that this movement is larger than just my sister and I. With the Maker intervening in the mortal world on your behalf, there are a great many people out there who are looking to you for spiritual guidance. I fear, my lady, that your personal wishes may not be enough to stem this movement. I will do what I can to spread word of your own desires, for they stem from a place of wisdom that, I confess, I fear my sister and I may have lost sight of in our rush to help. But again, you should prepare yourself for the inevitable factions that will try to spread what they see as your teachings, whether you wish it or not.”

“I believe I understand," Aloisia said, her voice nearly catching in her throat.  "Thank you for your consideration,” Aloisia said, and she truly meant it. This man might be a person of deep faith, but he hardly seemed deaf to reason. That was enough to warrant genuine gratitude. “I will hold you to your word, Terrence DuGalle. And now, unless there is nothing else,” she said, taking a deep breath in preparation for what was to come, “I need to make my way over to the Winter Palace to take my place as a piece upon the board. I'm about to enter the so-called ‘Great Game,' after all. And if I must be forced to play, then I intend to win.”

Finally, after what seemed like days rather than hours, Aloisia was inside the grand ballroom of the Winter Palace, waiting to be announced to the assembled nobility. She and the others from the Foundation had arrived two hours earlier, and Aloisia had spent that time mingling with the other guests. She had noticed Grand Duke Gaspard, but neither of them had approached the other. Aloisia did not want to appear as if she was seeking his approval, and she guessed that Gaspard did not want to deal with a woman who had called out his own Order of Chevaliers for any reason.

Part of her had been tempted to go over and talk to the grand duke anyway, if only to escape the incessantly annoying questions from everyone else, along with the simpering that followed whenever they got any sort of answer out of her. Always, they had the same questions. Had Aloisia really died? What was on the other side of that mortal boundary? What was it like returning from paradise at the Maker’s side? Aloisia was forced to give the same answers over and over again. Yes, she had truly died. She did not know what it was like after death, and returning to life felt like waking up after a dreamless sleep. She gave a probably-false answer that she probably didn’t remember anything because it was not truly her time, or else she would not have come back.  That was probably untrue, but Aloisia couldn't preclude the possibility that it could very well be the case.

A small handful of nobles had also asked her if the Maker or Andraste had given her any insights or wisdom or some other sort of guidance, and if there was anything that they could do to honor the Maker’s wishes. These few people Aloisia talked with a little bit longer, with a little bit more warmth. They had gone beyond mere personal curiosity and were seeking out genuine spiritual guidance. Aloisia didn’t attribute any words to the Maker or to Andraste, and she wouldn’t lie to these people about that. She would, however, talk about her own interpretations of some of the Maker’s commandments that she felt were currently being either fulfilled or ignored in either spirit or letter. It could possible be a start in the right direction, if these few Orlesian nobles truly did listen to her with more than just lip service, if nothing else.

More than the pains of diplomacy, however, was the stab in the heart she felt whenever someone asked her about coming back from the dead. With every reminder, Aloisia felt increasingly like a hypocrite. For years, her one goal had been to put a permanent end to a being that refused to die. As the Steward of the Foundation, Corypheus was another enemy who had also cheated his way past death. Was she truly any better than the monsters she hated so much?

”Don’t ever think that, my love!” Lana said from within. ”The Emperor and Corypheus achieved their immortality through monstrous deeds. I consented to bind my soul to yours so that we could be together forever. Before the Force-walking ritual, I believe I would have been visible to anyone and everyone had I followed you without being bound, and I consented with all my heart. You are a kind, caring, and beautiful woman, Aloy. Never doubt that about yourself, do you hear me?”

Warmth filled Aloisia’s heart as her wife's words soothed her spirit. How she had ever found such a wonderful woman – and how they had fallen mutually in love with each other – was a miracle unto itself. Looking to either side of her, Aloisia was reminded that even without Lana, she was hardly alone. Many of her traveling companions were here, as were most of her senior advisors.  Commander Cullen and Cassandra were absent from that group, as they were preparing for the siege of Adamant Fortress back at Skyhold. Ser Delrin Barris was filling Cullen's place at the Winter Palace, with Francine Ferrer accompanying him just as she had back at the Siege of Haven.  Thinking about the pair of them - a Templar and a former senior enchante - Aloisia wondered why she hadn’t called upon them earlier to help her with answering questions about her ‘resurrection,’ given that they had been the ones to carry her then-lifeless body to safety.

”Sometimes, you don’t know when to delegate,” Lana said with a warm smile in her voice. ”I don’t know if you picked that up from me, or if I forced it upon you without meaning to, but you try to take charge of every situation you find yourself in. Then again, we’re both of us Sith, aren’t we? Survival and victory are one and the same, yes?”

Aloisia smiled and silently thanked Lana for her thoughtfulness as a half-masked Orlesian page whispered in her ear that she and her retinue were about to be presented. She gave him a nod of thanks so he could move on to inform the others, and she made her way slowly towards the stairs that would bring her formally into the Orlesian Imperial Court. Leliana and Josephine had done all they could to prepare her, and Aloisia felt as ready as she would ever be. She had been worried that someone would accost her over the lightsaber hilt dangling from her hip, but no one had dared to do so just yet, or else no one had recognized it for the weapon that it was. Maybe the lack of Lana’s saber on her hip was throwing them off. Aloisia hadn’t liked making that concession, but she could understand that one extremely dangerous weapon was far less frightening than two of them.

Aloisia felt a tremor of unease as the page unfurled a scroll behind a railing above her and to her left, but she focused on his pending announcement. Now was not the time for distractions. Not here, not now, could she falter in the slightest.

“And now presenting,” the page began, “Lady Inquisitor Aloisia Kallig of Skyhold.”

Only because of that faint tremor from the Force was Aloisia able to keep her face impassive as she descended the steps. Whomever had written out her introduction – likely the Empress herself – had gone to the trouble of calling her ‘Inquisitor’ and not ‘Steward.’ Would the Foundation that she had forged herself be mentioned at all? Probably not, but this had to be a test. Depending on how she reacted, the court would find her more appealing or less. Aloisia hadn't been sure how they would introduce her place of origin.  They could have gone with her being a wandering nomad, or else from the Tevinter Imperium.  To be 'of Skyhold' wasn't quite accurate, but it was probably the best she could hope for.

When she reached the center of the steps, Aloisia gave a stiff, rehearsed bow to the woman standing opposite and above her at the far end of the hall. Her introduction was polite on the surface, but if Aloisia understood Orlesian politics correctly, then introducing her as 'Inquisitor' was Empress Celene all but declared her an enemy by refusing to acknowledge Aloisia as she was taking great pains to be publicly known.  Biting back her fury, Aloisia swore to herself that she would play this ‘game’ only so long as she absolutely had to. And who knew what other bastardizations this court would make of her achievements?

The page answered for her as she walked slowly and deliberately forward. “Vanquisher of the Rebel Mages of Ferelden! Crusher of the Vile Apostates of the Mage Underground! Heralded to be the Blade of Our Holy Maker!”

It was all, to use a Thedosian word, bullshit. No mention of the Foundation, nor of the destruction of Haven or her role in helping the people to survive it. An outright lie of her dealings with the mages in Redcliffe. And so very subtly, they announced that she wasn’t actually the Blade of the Maker, but merely heralded as such. That last part would have brought her joy under almost any other circumstances, for she knew that she wasn’t truly a holy woman. If these were ordinary men and women, she’d welcome the opportunity to speak so openly and plainly with them. But here in Halamshiral, Celene held her by the throat, or at least she was grasping to try.

The introductions for the rest of the Foundation’s contingent were mostly factual and complimentary, save for referring to the Foundation as the Inquisition. Francine was introduced as a Senior Enchanter, despite that she had given up the post, and that was probably meant to divide them from within. The message was loud and clear: Celene had all but declared Aloisia to be a charlatan, and even the praise given to those following her was damned by the inference that they willingly followed a pretender. At the very least, there was no mention of Cole. Hopefully, he was somewhere in the Winter Palace just out of sight.

By the time Aloisia reached the other side of the room, another woman had taken a place at Celene’s right side, but just a bit behind her out of respect. Aloisia silently bowed in the accepted, formal manner to the Empress, wondering what she would say to her.

“Lady Inquisitor,” Celene said, her voice oozing with sincerity that Aloisia could sense through the Force was entirely false. “We welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin,” she said as the woman next to her stepped forward, “the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would not be possible.”

“Inquisitor,” Grand Duchess Florianne said with a curtsy. “It brings me no end of joy to see you here at my invitation. It is my hope that the Inquisition can do much good for Orlais in the days to come. We shall have to speak again later this evening,” she said before walking away.

So, Florianne was either not in agreement with her cousin, or else was simply hiding her own deisgns better than Celene was hiding her distaste with Aloisia. Either way, she would be on her guard around everyone in this nest of gundarks.

“Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer’s day,” Celene said.

Empty words, but words that expected a reply. “It is a profound honor to be here in such grand company, Your Imperial Majesty,” Aloisia replied. “It is clear that Your Majesty is the very embodiment of her empire’s most renowned qualities.” Indeed, Celene was just as vicious and pretentious as Aloisia had expected of the empress of Orlais.

“The tales of your nobility have clearly not done you justice,” Celene replied. “We have heard not just of your nobility, but of your many exploits across the realm. They have made for grand tales that take hold for long evenings. Tel us, how are you finding Halamshiral?”

Aloisia urged her lips to stay put, to neither turn upward nor downward. “The Winter Palace is, naturally, a fine work of architecture, but there is so much more to Halamshiral that I have yet to see. I was, of course, deeply saddened to hear of the devastation that befell much of the city at the onset of this tragic conflict, and I am even further saddened to hear of all that has yet to has be repaired. But say the word, Your Imperial Majesty, and the Foundation will gladly render aid to the people of Halamshiral who have lost homes and loved ones to this terrible dispute for the Imperial Throne. A dispute that I fervently hope will be peacefully resolved tonight.”

She was about to leave it there, but then began to amend her words. “Ah, but you must be confused,” Aloisia added. “The Inquisition has not existed under that name for some time now, and I have not taken up the title of Inquisitor. I am merely the Steward of the Foundation of Fellowship, which I hope will bring the disparate peoples of Thedas together during this period of turmoil. I’m sure that ruling half of Orlais is a difficult business, and that some details are bound to escape the notice of even the keenest of minds. Please, consider the matter forgiven.”

Even as the empress remained stone-faced, hushed gasps could be heard from all around them. Between dismissing the Winter Palace in favor of the elven alienage, telling Celene that she only ruled half of her empire, to be the one granting forgiveness to the Empress of Orlais of all people… If the Celene wanted to trade insults, then she would have them.  Aloisia's insults had been far more direct than was typical for Orlais, so it was very possible that most of the assembled courtiers simply thought less of her for being so obvious rather than properly Orlesian.

As befitting the empress of Orlais, Celene had a well-practiced smile ready for her. “We also hope that this evening will be the end to needless bloodshed, and it pleases us that you wish for the same. Feel free to explore the pleasures of the ballroom, Lady Kallig. We look forward to watching you dance.”

And that was that. Aloisia bowed once more and made her way up the stairs towards Leliana and her other advisors, and she was dreading the encounter. Leliana would try to warn her of the risks she was taking, and maybe remind her of what she had already done to earn this reception. Josephine would be aghast about everything and would try to fuss over Aloisia so that she could mend as many relationships as possible. And Aloisia would have to find a way to tell them, as politely as she could, to shut up and allow her get a feel for things herself.

Leliana, however, seemed to have made herself scarce, ‘Hawke’ looked to be regaling some noblemen and women with Varric, Ser Barris and Francine had been cornered together by a large group of masked nobles who no doubt wanted to hear a firsthand account of Aloisia’s death and resurrection. Aside from them, neither Dorian nor the Iron Bull were within Aloisia’s eyesight, and Josephine looked torn between rushing to Aloisia’s side and attending to a young woman standing next to her whom Aloisia did not recognize.

Aloisia decided to give Josephine as much mercy as she could. After all of her hard work, and this was the result? The poor woman was likely beside herself with uncertainty, and probably needed far more comforting than Aloisia herself. She approached her ambassador with her head held high, barely noticing Sera slipping in right beside her in uncharacteristic silence. She was thankfully playing the part of a servant as seriously as Aloisia had asked her to. Sera might hate it, but she was doing job very well in spite of her feelings.

For now, Aloisia needed eyes elsewhere, so she bent down to whisper in Sera’s ear. “I’ll be fine. Go and do what you do best, Red Jenny,” Aloisia said with a wink as she pulled away.

Sera grinned and walked away, blending into the crowd with an ease that belied her usually coarse manner. She wouldn’t be good at what she did if she couldn’t blend in, but seeing it in action was impressive nonetheless.

Finally, Aloisia was able to approach Josephine, who seemed trapped by the young woman at her side. “Ambassador Montilyet,” she greeted her. “I believe we should talk.”

“Oh, is this the Inquisitor?” the young woman asked.

“This is the Steward, Yvette,” Josephine corrected with a tired sigh. “Forgive me, my lady. This is my younger sister, Yvette. Yvette, this is Steward Aloisia Kallig.”

“Oh! My lady! I have heard so many stories! Is it true that you defeated the magister in Redcliffe with a snap of your fingers?” Yvette asked.

“No, but it may have seemed that way from a certain point of view,” Aloisia allowed. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to borrow your sister.”

“Oh, you cannot leave me with just that! You must regale me with all of your heroic deeds!” Yvette pleaded eagerly.

Josephine’s eyes met Aloisia’s, and they seemed to scream ‘Save me!’ And Aloisia really did need to have a talk with her ambassador. “Yvette, you seem to have taken quite an interest in my tales, but surely not everyone here has heard them as you have. Perhaps you should share your stories with someone else?” Aloisia asked, nudging the girl with the Force a bit.

Yvette nodded, a wide grin on her masked face. “Yes, perhaps I should share my stories with someone else. Excuse me, please,” she said as she practically frolicked away into the crowd.

Josephine held a gloved hand over her gaping mouth for a few moments. “How did you-“

“Not important, Josephine,” Aloisia said. “Right now, I need the Ambassador for the Foundation to tell me just what sort of situation we’re in.”

Josephine took a few deep breaths and put a gloved hand to her forehead. “Where to begin? I knew that things would be difficult the moment I heard about your judgment of Enchanter Vivienne, but the way the empress had you announced! Either she is supremely confident about everyone feeling as she does, or else she is well and truly set on having you as an enemy. Even if you do prevent this assassination attempt, Celene still may never forgive you.”

“We’re not here to stop an assassination attempt, Josephine,” Aloisia corrected her advisor. “We’re here to ensure that a stable Orlais emerges from all of this. That does not require Celene to remain on the throne. I intend to speak with Gaspard and Briala and get their opinions on the state of Orlais. You stressed to me over and over that they were the players I need concern myself with most besides the empress. Has that changed?”

“N-no, my lady. It hasn’t,” Josephine said. “But Gaspard is a warrior and a chevalier more than he is a noble, and he will not soon forget your denunciation of his order. That leaves Briala, whose position is not nearly as strong.”

“Why is her position weaker, ambassador?” Aloisia said, her voice turning hard and cold. “Is it because she isn’t in the line of succession? Or is it because she is an elf? I would think that in Halamshiral of all places, her voice would carry weight. And if it does not carry said weight, then I believe the fault lies with those who fail to heed her and the people she represents. That is, of course, assuming that Briala truly does represent the elves of Orlais. Tell me truly, Josephine: do you think Celene or Gaspard truly represent the people of Orlais? Or just the pampered elite assembled here tonight? I’d wager that every so-called noble in all of Orlais is under this roof tonight. The perfect target for a mass culling of the collective leadership of Thedas's largest nation. Are there any such notable persons who aren’t here tonight?”

Thankfully, Josephine seemed to understand which of Aloisia’s questions she truly wanted an answer to, and which of her questions were hypotheticals that she had already decided on. “With Briala, it is as you say," Josephine said as diplomatically as she could.  "As for notable absences, there are two. Duke Bastien de Ghislain has been ill for some time, so his appearance is notable, but not out of the ordinary. It was his estate where you arrested Enchanter Vivienne.  Apart from Duke Bastien, the only truly noticeable absence is Duchess Caralina de Lydes.”

Aloisia smiled in understanding. “Ah, yes. That little dispute we resolved in Caralina’s favor. Either Celene or Florianne made a point not to invite her, I imagine. As the empress of Orlais, Celene might take offense in our meddling, but Florianne outranks Caralina in the territory of Lydes itself. Perhaps it's an attempt to isolate us? Regardless, this serves to keep one of our allies out of harm’s way, even if they nobody else sees it as such. And if I may be honest, Josephine, I expected you to scold me for how I spoke to the empress, and that you'd insist on me trying to mend ties with her.”

“Oh, goodness, no!” Josephine said with an uncharacteristically grim look on her face. “With the way she had you introduced, Celene has all but declared war on you, and by extension the entire Foundation! It may not be an open conflict just yet, but I fear that Orlais may not look kindly on the Foundation for some time to come. Despite this, your contest of words with the empress was remarkably bold, and it will likely be the talk of the empire after these talks have concluded.  It will not be favorable towards you, but it will keep you and your works in the general discourse, at least.  Such boldness might be improper to most everyone here tonight, but with your radical goals, such an approach is quite possibly appropriate.  It will be some time before we can tell just what effect your words will have had.”

“I suppose that's something," Aloisia said at the mention of her boldness.  "And I'm afraid you may be prematurely assuming that the talks will conclude without bloodshed,” Aloisia chided her. Josephine was a good woman who was both kind and intelligent. She was also, unfortunately, more than a little bit sheltered and naïve. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I need to have words with the grand duke and the elven ambassador. Until later, Lady Montilyet.”

So saying, Aloisia strolled as calmly as she could through the ballroom, her senses open for any ill intent. She sensed a mixture of emotions from the surrounding nobles, but it wasn’t an unruly rush of different emotions. Most of the nobles seemed to be fearful of her, and were giving her a very wide berth. Either they feared Aloisia herself, or else they feared the wrath of the empress should they be seen speaking with her.

Aloisia ignored them in turn. They were part of the problem, not the solution. She doubted that Gaspard would be part of any solution at all, but she believed she should at least give the man the time of day, if only to decide for herself. She caught him on a balcony, flanked by two others, their backs turned to her. Comrades or guards, most likely, Aloisia figured.

Making a point to let her footsteps be heard, she walked onto the marble stone of the balcony and let the grand duke turn to face her. “Lady Steward,” Gaspard said with warmth in his voice, even if he felt anything but in the Force. “I must say, you have done me a great honor. No matter what happens here tonight, I can say with confidence that however much Celene may hate me, there is one she deems more worthy of her ire than the 'vile usurper.'”

“Ah, but how vile is he, truly?” Aloisia asked. “And who is the true usurper? As I understand it, the throne would have been rightfully yours had the Council of Heralds not played favorites. What sort of way is that to pick a ruler? I have asked this of myself and found no satisfying answer yet. Does one simply promise the Council of Heralds whatever they wish, and whomever is most persuasive is the one to gain a title?”

“Ha! Finally, someone speaks sense about the thrice-cursed Council,” Gaspard said with genuine enthusiasm. “Yes, the lords and ladies love their games, their clever wordplay. I detest the Game, I truly do, but I play it because I must. I would rather my actions speak for me rather than words, which tend to change on a whim.”

Aloisia gave a slight shrug and a small smile. “I believe that words have their place, but without action to back them up, such words are empty. Might I beg a favor, Grand Duke Gaspard?”

“That depends entirely on the favor, Lady Kallig.”

“And that is entirely fair,” she responded honestly. “Quite simply, I would like to hear about how this civil war started. I know that the flashpoint was the massacre of the alienage here in Halamshiral, further compounded by your own ambush, which was initially provoked by a play mocking the empress for her taste in lovers. But Celene had been on the throne for quite some time before all of this began, and she does not seem inclined to give me the time of day. If the empress is to be believed, you are a brutish thug who is waging a rebellion because he did not get his way. But I have heard of some of your battles, and I do not see a fool when I look at your reputation on the battlefield. You would not wage a war without reason, I believe. I find myself curious as to what your reason was for beginning everything which has led to this meeting here tonight.”

Gaspard chuckled. “And what do you believe you will hear from me should I tell you?”

Aloisia smiled back, but did not laugh. “I believe I will hear some manner of truth as you believe it to be. It will likely paint you in a favorable light just as it paints your cousin unfavorably. However biased your accounting, I imagine that it will be based in the truth, or rather a truth depending on how one sees things. I won’t insult you and demand that you cast yourself as a villain. I am in no position to make any such judgment. I am simply trying to make up my own mind about how the Foundation might best aid the people of Orlais, no matter what the outcome of the peace talks tonight.”

Gaspard’s mouth was no longer smiling, and what Aloisia could see of his eyes behind the mask looked serious and appraising. “I have heard many tales about you, Aloisia Kallig. Too many of them strain the boundaries of my belief, if you must know. Regardless, I can see why so many people follow you as they do. You speak frankly to me in the middle of a city full of liars, even knowing that I might be one of them. It is a brave thing for you to do, especially after your offensive edicts about the Order of Chevaliers. If this was not a night to speak of peace, I would challenge you for the dishonor you have visited upon me and mine. I might still do so, at another time, depending on how this night unfolds. I will not pretend to like all that you stand for, or even most of it. But speaking to you now, I respect you enough that I will answer your questions about why I waged this war.”

Aloisia had known to expect hostility from Gaspard, but at least he was upfront about it. Perhaps there was something in his Chevalier’s code that compelled him to speak in such a way. It was worth looking into, but not now. “You have my undivided attention, Grand Duke Gaspard.”

“Then I shall not waste your time, Lady Kallig,” Gaspard said. “I was concerned for the future of the empire, and I felt that Celene had been too passive for too long. We ceded Ferelden back to the dog-lords, and Celene had the gall to look there for a potential husband. But it has been twenty years since she took the throne, and she has yet to marry. The empire needs an heir, and it needs a leader who understands that peace and complacency only weaken Orlais. Nevarra’s leadership hangs by a thread, and with Celene’s weakness to our eastern border, she gives even less thought to the north. You may not believe it, but war was not my first choice. This entire affair could have been avoided if Celene had put aside her own pride.”

Aloisia weighed his words carefully. If she didn’t know any better, she could hear a philosophical debate from a Sith arguing against the views of the Jedi. Gaspard’s insults about Ferelden were telling, but not as much as what he viewed as weakness. Complacency was among the greatest of all follies, Aloisia would agree. Peace, on the other hand, was a brave thing to reach towards, and very difficult to maintain. Working for peace was not the work of the weak, let alone keeping the peace.

“What is this of Celene’s pride that prompted you to wage your war?” Aloisia asked. “I’ve heard many tales about the war, but not this one.”

“That does not surprise me,” Gaspard said. “I confided my plans in only a few, and they were far hungrier for war than me. No, I talked with Celene, alone, and offered my hand in marriage. Our familial bond is distant enough that it would not be a scandal. She could handle the academics and the nobles and the courtly affairs, and I could ensure a strong and stable empire that could defend itself from other nations who might see Ferelden’s victory as Orlais's weakness. And most importantly for the future of the empire, I could give Celene an heir. I remember her words that day, so very defiant. ‘I need your wisdom and strength in defending the empire. I do not need a husband.’ That was her only answer, and nothing else. With the war between the mages and Templars spreading, I saw an imminent need for strong leadership that I did not see in Celene. And that is why I am waging this campaign for the throne.”

That was a very interesting tale, Aloisia thought. Strange that it hasn’t spread enough for me to hear it. If either Josephine or Leliana knew about it, they would have told me. “If I may be so bold, Grand Duke, why is this tale not more widespread? Surely, word of Celene’s folly would gain you favor and followers, would it not? Some people may marry for love, or choose not to marry, but the leader of an empire has certain obligations, I agree. Even if she has no child, she could have named an heir. But then, there’s your Council of Heralds to muddy the waters. So why didn’t you spread this story?”

Gaspard simply shrugged. “Because I know my cousin, and I know how well she plays the Game. I am a solider, and I am at home behind a war table or on a field of battle. My persuasive efforts would be no match for Celene’s, and they could have just as easily backfired. I chose to let my actions speak for me. Words can be ignored or twisted to suit an agenda, and Celene is a master at wordplay. As for the talking here and now on this very evening, Celene has involved my sister in her schemes. For Florianne, I will play the Great Game, however much I detest it.”

Aloisia could respect Gaspard for the choices he claimed to have made. “The wise man doesn’t pick a fight on unfavorable terrain that preemptively cedes the advantage to his opponent. It was a smart move on your part, but I do wonder why this war continues after the attack on the Conclave, along with the Breach and the rifts in its wake. War and death weakens the veil, and it invites unwelcome company from the other side.”

“Hmm. I wonder at that,” Gaspard said. “I am no mage, and I do not know the Fade as others might. I have heard others speak the words you speak now, but they tend to be campfire stories, nothing more. If Enchanter Vivienne were still alive, I might ask for her advice on the matter, though she would probably have given me whatever answer that would suit Celene’s fancy. Or I could ask her new ‘arcane advisor’ if I wanted some charlatan’s nonsense. If the stories are true, and you yourself are a mage, I wonder why you would care about the veil growing thin.”

Aloisia crossed her arms and arched an eyebrow. “You don’t trust magic, or anyone who practices it. You think they have more in common with spirits and demons than with the living. Is that it?”

Gaspard started to open his mouth, but then closed it and shook his head. “I distrust the power that fuels magic, but I recognize the value of any weapon when properly wielded. I believe that those who touch the Fade experience the world in a way that I cannot understand, and it is difficult to trust in the word of someone who sees the world so differently than I do.”

“That’s honest, at least,” Aloisia conceded. “My magic, for lack of a better term, is a part of who I am. Imagining myself without it would be like you imagining yourself without your eyes or your ears. You are right that we are very different in that respect. Speaking academically, however, death does thin the veil, and that does make it that much easier for spirits and demons to slip through into our world. I can sense arcane anomalies such as this with greater ease than you, or anyone without the gift of magic, and so I can only share my experiences with you in the hopes that you will heed it as something to keep in mind. If nothing else, consider it to be counsel given freely in the hopes that the people of Orlais need not fear demons invading their homes when the war is over. Nobody wins in such a scenario, except Corypheus.”

“Ah, yes. Corypheus. A children’s story brought to life. You ask me why I don’t stop the war now. I believe in what I can see with my own eyes, hear with my own ears, and feel with my own hands. The tales of your deeds are just that.  They are tales, stories, nothing more than empty words, as are the tales you tell of your enemies. You have closed the Breach, you say, so the existing rifts – while unfortunate – will simply have to be accounted for moving forward until and unless you close them. Interesting, isn’t it, how only you can do such a thing?”

Aloisia huffed. “It’s a heavy burden and a terrible responsibility. You call it interesting, but if I could, I would spread the gift far and wide, as I can only be in one place at a time. Tell me truthfully now: if you could go back in time, warn yourself about the disaster at the Conclave that would come to pass before you decided to wage war against Celene, would you still do it?”

“I probably would,” Gaspard admitted with no hesitation. “This world is full of tragedy and death, and I fight this war so that Orlais suffers less of it in the years to come. Nothing about that has changed since all of this began.”

“I see,” Aloisia said, careful not to let her emotions show. She stood up straight and bowed her head politely. “Thank you for your time, Grand Duke Gaspard. I can tell that you are a man of principles who has Orlais’s best interests as his foremost priority.”

Gaspard returned the bow. “You are too kind, my lady. I hope I was able to provide you with the answers you sought.”

“Indeed,” Aloisia said. “It has been a very enlightening conversation. If you’ll excuse me, I won’t take up more of your time. A good evening to you, Your Grace.” Aloisia turned and walked away from Gaspard confident that she had the measure of him. A man who doesn’t care for guile, but neither does he care for peace, nor for anything outside the borders of Orlais. A man who would choose war over peace because he believes the latter to be weakness. What a wonderful emperor he would make, she thought sarcastically.

Before Aloisia could find any room to breathe, she found herself approached by a small crowd of nobles, and she recognized this as the same group that had been talking to Ser Barris and Francine Ferrer earlier. A Templar's word would surely be worth more than the charlatan the empress claimed her to be, and with a former senior enchanter of an Orlesian circle of magi backing up his claims of Aloisia's 'resurrection,' there would be even less room for doubt. Aloisia had stressed to everyone not to mention Clemence’s role in any way, lest the victims of tranquility suffer even more than they already did.

For about ten minutes, Aloisia found herself answering the same questions that she had been forced to answer earlier in the courtyard, though perhaps to a more powerful and influential audience. Yes, she did fight a being that claimed to have darkened the Golden City. Yes, he commanded a blighted dragon. Yes, there was a silver knife in the sky that blasted green fire to aid her. Was it the Maker intervening on her behalf? Perhaps so, but why for her and not Andraste? Did she truly die? Perhaps she did die, but not truly, or she wouldn’t be here now. What were her thoughts on the growing movement for a Kalligist Chantry? Dividing the people serves no one at this point in time. Would you consider using your influence to unite Thedas should you be elected to sit on the Sunburst Throne as the next Divine? Why don’t we save the world first before even considering such things, shall we?

It was all too much noise and nonsense from people who seemed obsessed with Aloisia’s power, with her enemies, with what she might do in the future, but no regard at all for the people they supposedly ruled over and were responsible for. Dark Councilors and Republic Senators, the lot of them. Aloisia finally found a way to excuse herself – as politely as she could through gritted teeth – and wound her way to an open balcony. Setting her hands on the railing, she hung her head a bit and took a deep breath of the cool night air. And then she turned her head upward to look at the stars of the night sky, wondering what was going on in the wider galaxy without her there in any position to help.

“Come to escape the grasping clutches of the fawning nobility?” a rich female voice said from behind her. Aloisia craned her neck around to see a short woman in a green and white dress, her hair bound in some wine-colored net, her pointed ears marked her as an elf, and yet she wore a mask like all the others playing the Great Game of Orlais.

“That depends on your definition of ‘nobility,’ I suppose,” Aloisia said as she turned her body around to face the newcomer as an equal. “If a noble is merely anyone born into a family whose ancestors once staked a claim to greatness, then I’ve just escaped them, it’s true. If a noble person is a person who cares for truly noble causes – the people and their well-being, for instance – then I’m afraid I can’t claim to have met any such individuals yet tonight. Perhaps you will be the first, my lady.”

The elf chuckled. “I have been called many things in my life, but never a lady. As you have no doubt surmised, I am Briala. Some call me ‘ambassador,’ but that is merely a title to appease the nobility – depending on your definition of the term – so that I might have a place here tonight. Tell me, Steward Kallig, what would you say if I claimed to truly have a noble cause? That I am actually here to ensure a better future for the elves of Orlais and beyond?”

Aloisia smiled carefully. “I would say that I would like to know what you believe a better future for elves looks like. Is it equal standing with the other races of Thedas, where everyone is accepted and treated equally? Or is it elven dominion over the rest of the world, as it was in the days of Arlathan? Or is it something else entirely?”

Briala smiled and stepped closer towards Aloisia. “Honestly? I would like to start by just getting to a point where elves need not fear being killed at random while their murderers walk away unpunished. After that… I don’t believe I would like to see my people ruling over anyone but ourselves. Such a thing would only serve to unite others against us. I would not have the elves become the Qunari. If coexistence is possible, then I imagine it might be worth pursuing.” She looked up and met Aloisia’s eyes through her mask. “Did you mean what you said while sparring with Celene? That your Foundation would help to rebuild our homes that were destroyed when Celene slaughtered our people, and Gaspard after her?”

“That, I most definitely meant,” Aloisia said, leaving no room for doubt in her voice or her posture as to her sincerity. “As the leader of the Foundation, I have made it our mission to help all the peoples of Thedas, especially those who are most vulnerable. I have already done a great deal for the mages of southern Thedas, and I would like to aid the elven people if I can. Alas, I fear that task is easier said than done. From what I understand, your people are forced into isolation from each other, either contained in the alienages of human cities, or else wandering the wilderness without a care for anything beyond their own clans. I am, of course, an outsider in such things, so I ask that you please correct me if I say anything that is mistaken or incorrect. And please, don’t cushion your words. I’d prefer an honest dialogue more than anything else.”

That got a chuckle out of Briala. “You come to Orlais and ask for honesty? Perhaps the rumors of you being a hopeless idealist are true after all. Then again, what is a hopeful future for my own people if not the grossest of idealism? You are not wrong, Steward Kallig. The elves of Thedas have been divided and isolated for a long time. It will be difficult to unite under such circumstances.”

“Difficult, perhaps. But not impossible,” Aloisia said with a knowing look. “I have found that many a battle can be won before it begins by exploiting the most tedious of details. Logistics are a pain to properly navigate, and yet they are utterly essential. In the end, a protracted campaign will be decided by who can do things faster. Who can communicate essential information, and who can move people and materiel from one place to another without impediment. If I had a way to expedite such a process… Well, it would be a priceless resource. If time and distance could be eliminated as variables, it could serve as more than just a way to resolve a battle. It could unite a disparate people. And that would be a truly noble purpose for such a valuable tool, and whomever wielded it for such a purpose would be truly worthy of being noticed as nobility.”

Briala’s face and posture did not change, but Aloisia could sense her growing unease in the Force. “Indeed, such a thing would be of value beyond measure.”

“Such a thing would be worth killing for,” Aloisia said, her heart growing heavy at the news she was about to deliver. “And at least one person already has died for such a thing. I would like to speak to you, Ambassador Briala, of a traitor I discovered in the midst of the Foundation. This person was made to talk, and their crimes are many and great and truly terrifying. They too sought to help the elves of this world, but their notion of such 'help' involved the extermination of all other races so that the elves could become what this person believed they were supposed to be. This person looks at the whole world as they look at you and I, viewing all of existence the same way that we would when we look at a tranquil. We are not truly alive to this person, and neither are the elves. But they could be alive again, and all it would take is mass murder on a truly terrifying scale.

“To gain the power needed for such a vast undertaking, this person would need an army, and they already had agents preparing to carry out this individual's will,” Aloisia continued, deliberately avoiding naming Solas, or even providing his gender. “One such agent was tasked with obtaining just such a tool that would allow instantaneous communication and transportation across all the world, but he disagreed with his master. He believed that the world need not change so drastically, need not suffer so much pointless death, and that the elves of today are alive and worthy of taking their own fate into their own hands.

“This agent’s name was Felassan,” Aloisia said, recalling Cynthia’s recollection of Solas’s interrogation. “And because he placed his faith in you, Briala, he was murdered by this individual who thought to use the Foundation to further their genocidal ends. If a man like Felassan thought it was worth betraying an individual of unfathomable wrath and power for your sake… Why, I believe that would make you quite an extraordinary woman. One whom I would very much like to support, as her goals for a better future align with my own. And should you wish it, once I can learn no more from this prisoner, I can let you have justice for Felassan.”

“I was about to tell him,” Briala said, her voice no more than a whisper overcome with shock. “He stopped me before I could. He didn’t want to know anything that he could be forced to give up to someone else.”

“Then my prisoner spoke truly,” Aloisia said. “I will not lie, Briala: what you command would be invaluable to the Foundation so that we might prevent Corypheus from tearing down the Veil and destroying this world in his pursuit of godhood. I would very much like to have you as an ally, but I won’t force you. You’ve probably had far too many empty and broken promises to take anything that I would have to offer at face value. I do believe, however, that I have learned a great deal tonight about the empress, about the grand duke, and about you.”

“Really?” Briala challenged. “What do you believe you have learned?”

Aloisia smiled sadly. “Celene has the heart of a ruler. She looks out across her dominion and decrees what must be and what must not be so as best to suit her own, personal vision. Gaspard has the heart of a warrior. Peace does not enter into his worldview. He does not value words, but rather action. And the actions worthiest of his attention are acts of physical aggression.

“And you, Ambassador Briala, have the heart of a servant, and I do not mean that as an insult. Your heart is not set on yourself, but on others. You care for a great many other people, most of whom you have never met, and who have likely never heard of you. You do what you do in the service of others. If I could pick the leaders of Thedas, I would much rather that they have the hearts of servants, living in service to their subjects, far more than those with the hearts of rulers or warriors.”

Briala was silent for a few moments as she seemed to consider Aloisia’s words. “And which of these do you see yourself as, Lady Kallig? A ruler, a warrior, or a servant?”

“If only I could say one thing and have it become reality on a whim,” she responded. “I like to think that I have a servant’s heart, with the well-being of others as my first priority. But I am no stranger to war, nor am I ill-at-ease with making decisions that affect countless lives. One of my greatest fears, however, is that I may one day start to wage war and make such far-reaching decisions without regard for how my words and actions will affect others. I try my best to be a servant of all people, but it is a journey that I must tread carefully with every step lest I lose my way. Too many people are counting on me now, and if I fail myself, then I fail those who follow me, and I fail every other life that any of us may touch.”

Briala stood silent for a moment before she crossed her arms and idly tapped one foot. “You have given me much to think about, Aloisia Kallig. You are right that I am not willing to trust you quite so immediately. I would like to believe you, but I have also learned that wanting to believe something is almost as dangerous as belief itself. For now, you have gained my interest. I will watch, listen, and observe you and your people as I take your measure for myself. Until later, Lady Kallig, I bid you a good evening.”

“And you as well, Lady Briala,” Aloisia said without mockery. “May you serve well, and in turn be well-served.”

Briala took her leave at that, turning towards the foyer as she left the balcony. Barely a moment passed before Aloisia was swarmed again by so-called nobles. Another group had talked to Ser Barris and Francine, and now they wanted the same answers to the same questions. Not having the patience for them, Aloisia apologized that she was feeling light-headed and excused herself to find a drink. Hopefully she could find a glass of water, for as much as she would like to drown her anxieties away, she needed to be sober tonight.

At last, Aloisia managed to escape the ballroom entirely into the foyer. There was no water, nor wine, to be had, so Aloisia merely leaned against a wall and took some time to breathe and to center her thoughts.

Alas, such time was not to last very long, as the sound of high-heeled footsteps descending carpeted stairs drew Aloisia’s attention towards a striking woman in a very dark red dress with a wide black skirt, her neck adorned with a golden necklace so large that it covered much of what would have been revealed by the dress's plunging neckline. She had pale skin, wavy black hair held up in the back that framed an elegant and beautiful face.  And that face featured the most striking eyes Aloisia had yet to see on anyone in Thedas, for they burned like shimmering gold.  Suddenly reminded of her beloved Lana, Aloisia couldn't help but fixate all of her attention on those eyes alight like fire.

“Well, well. What have we here?”

Chapter Text

Hello Everyone,

I am so very sorry, but this is not a new chapter. I have been working on the story, but it has been slow going. I have gotten over one hurdle and finished first drafts for a couple of very important chapters, but there is still some work to be done before I feel comfortable posting with any regularity.

I have been quietly updating some previously-posted chapters. I have been trying to add visual aids to capture key characters and moments in this story. And this is where I need to confess. I have used AI tools to create some of this artwork. I am not skilled with visual art mediums at all. I do not believe I know anyone with such artistic skill, and I simply do not have the luxury of spending money on commissions as much as I would like.

Here is a guide to where you can find images of certain characters, and notes of how they were created...

~ Aloisia Kallig at the start of Chapter One (1) - Commissioned by me from MarseilleCraft, whose work you can find here: https://www.deviantart.com/marseillecraft
~ Lana Beniko as a Force Ghost in Chapter Nine (9) - Made with AI specifically to create a Force Ghost version of Lana.
~ Ar'atania/Ilara (as a Chiss) in Chapter Twenty-Five (25) - Made with AI. I could have used a small screenshot from an MMO that is over a decade old, but I wanted to do her justice.
~ Marian Hawke in Chapter Twenty-Seven (27) - A simple screenshot of Marian from DA2.
~ Solana Amell AND "Cynthia" (human disguise) in Chapter Thirty (30) - Solana was made in the character creator for the game Black Desert Online / "Cynthia" was made with AI tools. I had a certain look in mind, but I admit, I could probably have found something similar elsewhere.

So now, I would like to ask two questions of you. If you feel so inclined, please share your thoughts in the comments, and I will act accordingly...

1. How comfortable or uncomfortable are you with my use of AI tools for certain images? If you are uncomfortable, what would you prefer? Cutting the AI art entirely is an option if enough people are uncomfortable with it.

2. Would you like me to post a chapter every now and then? The updates would be entirely irregular, and there might be long stretches of time between chapters going up. I only have a very few chapters that are ready to post, or else can be ready to post soon. I am intent on finishing this story, but the muse is a fickle being who comes and goes when and where she pleases. I try to capture inspiration in fleeting moments, but those have not been as common as I would prefer.

If you have any opinions at all, be they positive or negative, please leave a comment and share your feelings. The last thing I want is to alienate you, the readers. I want this story to be one you can enjoy to the fullest, and I promise to take any and all feedback into consideration. And if you have anything else you would like to share about the story or anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know.

Thank you for your time, dear readers. I am very sorry for the lack of updates, but this tale is far from over. I have plans for this story, and I very much want to see them through to completion. I hope you will walk with me along the way.

Thank you again, and have a great holiday season, one and all~!

EDIT: One last thing! As I have tried to perfect the input to get AI to give me just the right image, I have ended up with a number of other works of art that are still enjoyable, but just not exactly what I was looking for. Despite that, each of those images feels like an untold story unto itself. If I can't make progress on this epic tale, would any of you like to see some ficlets inspired by various AI images I have created? I will NOT display the AI art, but if you would like, I can use my imagination to tell their stories with words alone.

Thank you again.