Author's note: This story will contain spoilers for events that have not yet made it into 'Moments In Time' & 'Two of A Kind', as well as events that take place in the DA novels 'Asunder' & 'Masked Empire' & the graphic novels in the 'Silent Grove' series. If that's the kind of thing that bugs you, you might want to give this a bye. More detailed notes will, as usual, be included at the end of this chapter so that those of you who don't care for such things don't have to wade through it.
"Where is she?"
Her Holiness, Divine Justinia V, opted to ignore the lack of any respectful titles, and the absence of the obeisance that was the norm in those who addressed her. Truth be told, she generally found it tedious and lacking in sincerity, particularly in Val Royeaux, where piety had long since been consigned to the realm of quaintly outdated customs, given lip service by those who played The Game as simply another mask to be worn to conceal true intent. A bit of blunt forthrightness was a refreshing change...and any reprimand would have been ignored by her guest, anyway.
"She is doing the Maker's work," she replied calmly.
Dark eyes regarded her no less calmly. "Your work, you mean."
"It is one and the same." She told herself that daily, and prayed that it was true, wanted it to be true, and that would have to be enough.
"Is it?" Talia Cousland looked almost amused. "Been through the Gauntlet, have you?"
She had not. Few had. The Sacred Ashes of Andraste continued to protect themselves; in the years since the Chantry had taken control of the town of Haven and turned the temple on the mountain above into the holiest site of the Andrastean faith, dozens had attempted to win their way past the spiritual obstacles to view the Urn and its precious contents. Less than a score had succeeded, with the rate of success among the elite of the Chantry embarrassingly low. Most simply emerged frustrated and humbled; a few had resorted to violence, and found that the Gauntlet met force with greater force. Their bodies were burned on a pyre in the town of Haven as a warning to those who thought to use the earthly remains of the Maker's bride to serve their own ends. Still others muttered bitterly after their failure that it was all a fraud, the Ashes false, the Gauntlet the trickery of some maleficar to ensnare the faithful.
The previous Divine, Beatrix III, had not been swayed by such mutterings, but neither had she ever attempted to pass the Gauntlet herself. Part of it was undoubtedly that her advanced age made any such excursions inadvisable, but much of it – most of it – was likely that even with the failing of her mind, she knew, as Justinia now did, that innocence was one of the earliest and bitterest prices that this sacred office exacted from those who held it.
The woman before her had passed the trials of the Gauntlet, seen and touched the Sacred Ashes, but she had never seemed to consider that to mark her as particularly holy (a trait shared by every individual who had succeeded to date). Justinia had asked her about it once, and she had simply shrugged and said that her path and the Maker's will had happened to coincide at the time.
Leliana, though...no matter how unworthy she might think herself, her faith shone like a beacon, and the companions who had passed the Gauntlet with her had all stated unequivocally that it was that faith that had ultimately won them through.
"True faith needs no such proof," she replied simply.
"Be a bit awkward if you tried and failed, too, wouldn't it?" Talia replied with a snort, then shook her head, her eyes growing distant. "Don't feel bad; I doubt that I'd make it through again. My motivations have grown entirely too selfish."
Justinia did not have to ask what those motivations were. While barely out of childhood, the young noble had done more than most managed in a lifetime: killing an Archdemon, ending a Blight and putting down a subsequent uprising of darkspawn in Ferelden. In the years since, she had sought no acclaim, accepted no titles; though she was known as The Warden throughout Thedas, nearly a decade had passed since she had stepped down as Commander of the Grey in Ferelden and walked away from the Grey Wardens, a choice that none could gainsay her after what she had accomplished. As the sister of the King of Ferelden, she had acted as his envoy on occasion, but she bore no trappings of office.
The brash and tempestuous girl that Leliana had first encountered in Lothering had grown into a tall, strong woman: a seasoned warrior known throughout the southern kingdoms whose skills had likewise grown. The legendary starmetal blade remained at her hip, but her shield had been replaced by an axe with a wickedly hooked blade for her off-hand that could either entangle an opponent's weapon or cleave through flesh and bone. Heavy plate armor had given way to dragonhide leather: strong but lightweight and flexible, able to move in near silence and dyed in a mottled pattern of greys designed to blend with the shadows. She had learned the arts of stealth and subtlety, adding the element of surprise to her formidable martial ability.
She had not done it for the Maker, or for Ferelden. She had learned what she needed to learn to allow her to stay at the side of the woman that she loved: the woman that she sought now. For many years after she left the Wardens, the pair had been inseparable, and when Leliana had become the Left Hand of the Divine, the shadow behind the Sunburst Throne, Talia had become her shadow, and if she served the Maker only by proxy, it had not made her blade any less useful to Justinia. Recent events, however, had parted them once more.
"Leliana's duty lies with the Chantry," Justinia told her now. "She has felt your absence keenly." She meant it as a kindness, but the dark eyes hardened.
"I've been putting out fires," the Warden growled, tipping her head toward the window. The movement caused the thin braid at her left temple to sway, the crimson bone bead at the tip glinting in the lamplight, a proud reminder to all that she was also known as Vachini, the She-Wolf of the Otter Clan, battle-sister to the Chasind Wilders. "Your fires, among others."
"Fires started by one of your Wardens," Justinia reminded her without rancor. Talia had largely grown out of her youthful temper, but she was still one for action, rather than talk. She and Cassandra were more alike than either of them cared to admit.
"Anders deserted the Grey Wardens," Talia replied irritably, "after I refused to accept every runaway mage who came to Amaranthine. He hadn't lost his damned mind when I knew him, either." She looked away, guilt casting a shadow over her features. "Maybe if I had tried -"
"It would have come, sooner or later." While not willing to absolve the Grey Wardens of all responsibility for losing control of so puissant a mage, she was a realist. "The repression and abuse of the mages had become too widely entrenched. Such tyranny was never the Maker's plan, and it all but guaranteed that rebellion would arise."
Talia looked back at her with features caught between curiosity and irritation. "If that is how you feel, why don't you do something about it?"
If only it were that simple! "When you were Warden-Commander, why did you not accept every mage who wished to join you? It was within your authority, and they would have made powerful allies."
"And set us squarely against the Chantry," she replied, shaking her head, her expression becoming slightly sheepish. "Same thing for you?"
"Indeed," Justinia replied ruefully. The Chantry had long ago become an institution that was comprised almost as much of politics as religion; the Divines that forgot this generally had very short tenures. "That I can do nothing openly does not mean that I am doing nothing, however." It was not an admission she would make to many, and as she expected, her guest interpreted her words correctly.
"Leliana." The Warden's features hardened again. "Where is she?"
"Where you cannot follow," the Divine told her, adding as her face grew thunderous, "She is due to return soon, however."
"Unless you get her killed on the Maker's business," Talia shot back, glaring at her. "She helped end a Blight, found Andraste's ashes! How much more do you want her to do?"
"That choice is hers," Justinia replied. "She was free to refuse my offer, and she is free to leave my service. She has chosen not to." There was a secret between the lovers; she did not know what it was, but she knew that it lay at the heart of Leliana's acceptance of her role as Left Hand of the Divine. A guilty shadow again passed over the Warden's face, and she turned away, moving to the window and looking out on the city.
"You use her the way that Marjolaine did," she muttered. "What makes you any different?"
"Intentions, I hope," the Divine said. It was a question that she asked herself nearly every day, and that answer was the only one that allowed her what sleep she managed at night.
The Warden snorted softly. "Loghain Mac Tir started out with good intentions."
Another might have taken offense at that, but Justinia V had once been known as Revered Mother Dorothea, and before that...well, suffice it to say that she knew all too well that good intentions could be broken beneath the weight of mortal frailty. She had no illusions of infallibility; she had made mistakes, and lives had been lost as a result, but to do nothing could very well be just as bad or worse. Staying her hand in regards to Kirkwall, allowing Elthina to do nothing but pray for peace, had led to a bloodbath. A single life could be permitted to count for little in the balance against scores, hundreds, or perhaps thousands of lives that could be lost if she made the wrong choices now. Or even worse, perhaps regardless of the choices she made.
"She is very nearly as dear to me as she is to you," she said softly, stepping closer to the younger woman and placing a hand on her shoulder, "and she will be overjoyed to find you returned."
"I didn't want to go," the Warden murmured, the weary sorrow on her face making her look older than a woman who had not yet seen thirty years, "or be gone so long."
"Duty is a harsh taskmaster," Justinia observed, not without sympathy. It had not been on a whim that the Warden had left her lover, though only rumors had made it back to Val Royeaux in the past months as Leliana had discovered – to her mixed pleasure and frustration – that her Warden had learned much from her on how to avoid notice. "The Champion of Kirkwall is well, I hope?"
Dark eyes cut toward her warily. "She is," she replied simply.
The Divine nodded. Those rumors had been true, then. "There is no need for her to hide from the Chantry," she told the other woman. "We only wish to hear her account of events in Kirkwall."
"That may be all that the Chantry wishes," the Warden countered with a shrug, "but the Chantry no longer controls the templars; they're out for blood, and her sister was one of the mages in the Kirkwall circle."
"Grand Cleric Elthina and countless others died in that explosion," Justinia reminded her.
"Anders acted alone," Talia replied sharply. "He wasn't even part of the circle; Devon Hawke executed him and kept the situation from escalating even further."
"We have been unable to form a clear account of what transpired," the Divine admitted ruefully. "The reports from witnesses have been...chaotic, at best."
"If the reports say that Kirkwall's First Enchanter was a blood mage who became an abomination and the Knight Commander was driven insane by some kind of corrupted lyrium, made the statues in the Gallows come to life, then was turned into a statue of lyrium herself, then they square pretty well with what I was told." Talia glanced at her, scowling in disapproval as she nodded her reluctant acknowledgment. "That city was a disaster waiting to happen even without Anders, and all you could do was tell the Grand Cleric to leave?"
Justinia sighed heavily. "I intended an Exalted March; I allowed Elthina to convince me to stay my hand and give her the opportunity to bring things under control."
The Warden shifted to face her, leaning against the window frame and crossing her arms. "That worked out well, don't you think?"
"If you think I don't regret that choice every day, you are wrong," Justinia replied. "If I had known then even a fraction of what I knew now -"
"Was it really so hard to see that people who think they have nothing left to lose will fight?" Talia asked her. "The mages in Kirkwall had been pushed to their limits by the templars, and all the Grand Cleric could do was pray for peace."
"Is that why the Champion sided with the mages?" Justinia wanted to know.
"Is that what your witnesses told you?" Talia asked, then shook her head. "Devon Hawke sided with her sister; nothing more, nothing less. She killed Anders because his lunacy made Bethany a target for templar vengeance, along with every other mage alive. You great leaders in your ivory towers are the ones who are fixated on your grand ideals. Those of us on the ground fight for the ones that we love."
"And yet, you left the one that you love." It was a low blow, and for a moment, the Divine thought that it might have been the wrong tactic. Talia's eyes blazed with anger, but the flames subsided quickly.
"I pay my debts," she declared tersely. "Isabela asked for my help in getting Hawke and her companions to a place of safety. I wasn't about to force Leliana to choose between you and me, so I went alone."
"She understood that," Justinia told her gently, trying to soothe the wound she had inflicted. "She has been worried about you, though. Your elusiveness surprised her."
A faint smile touched the Warden's lips. "She taught me well."
"That she did," the Divine agreed. "So...you escorted the Champion and her comrades out of Kirkwall and helped them resettle elsewhere." She cocked her head, sorting through the rumors that had reached her ears. "Seheron, perhaps?"
Genuine amusement lit Talia's face, briefly driving back the weight of care and the years it had added to her features. "Is that where you have Cassandra looking?" she asked with a chuckle. "Maker, she's going to be surly when she gets back. No, that's not where they are. I honestly don't know where they're at." She shrugged. "I won't lie to Leliana, and Bela knows that. I left them in Llomerryn, but I can promise you that they're nowhere near there by now. Seheron was..." She glanced away, grim sorrow touching her features, "another matter entirely."
Disquiet rippled through Justinia's breast. "Are the Qunari preparing to invade, then?" With the current chaos, the nations of the south would be easy pickings for the horned giants.
Talia shook her head. "Not yet," she replied.
Not the most reassuring of answers. "But soon?" the Divine persisted.
The Warden's lips quirked into a wry smile. "Define 'soon'. The Qunari don't think the way we do. Their leaders aren't driven by personal glory and ambition, but by the demands of the Qun. When the Qun demands it, they will come, but that might be a hundred years from now. Maybe more."
"Or it might be tomorrow," Justinia guessed.
"Possible," Talia conceded, "but unlikely. They're still fighting the Tevinters for control of the northern lands; they are not going to abandon that fight, or weaken themselves by opening another front in the south. The attack on Kirkwall was a product of circumstance, not a declaration of war. As long as you don't intend another Exalted March on them, they should stay out of our business."
"Thank the Maker for small mercies," she murmured. Now she only had to worry about the mage rebellion, the renegade templars, the elven uprising and the possibility of Orlais flaring into civil war.
Talia regarded her with knowing eyes. "Not that we don't already have enough trouble, yes?"
She arched an eyebrow. "We?"
One shoulder lifted, lowered. "I haven't always agreed with your methods, but at least you are trying to do something. Leliana is loyal to you, and I go where she goes." A pointed look. "At least, I will when you tell me where she is."
"As I told you, I cannot," Justinia replied. "Her task is not particularly dangerous, but it would be noticed, were you to attempt to join her, and that could be dangerous. You are far from unknown, my dear, and your ties to Ferelden could send the wrong message at a delicate time."
"Empress Celene," Talia guessed. Correctly, though Justinia would neither confirm nor deny it. "The world teeters on the brink, and Grand Duke Gaspard proposes to address it by declaring war on Ferelden." She shook her head, her disgust plain. "I'd say to let him come, but we really don't have time to waste on such idiocy. The Empress should have relieved him of his head long ago; it's not as though he's actually using it."
"You are well informed, for someone so recently returned," the Divine observed.
Talia shrugged. "As you say, I've been well taught," she replied simply. "Not that Gaspard's ambitions seem to be any real secret. Word has it that he all but slapped the Empress in the face with a play that he commissioned at the Grande Royeaux, and that she has taken forces to Halamshiral to crush the elven uprising there to counter his accusation that she is too lenient with the elves, who had the nerve to object to the murder of one of their own by an Orlesian noble."
"The timing has been...unfortunate," Justinia sighed, well aware of the inadequacy of such a statement. "The Empress has been making slow progress toward improving the lot of the elves, but with Gaspard already stirring up nobles who might otherwise have accepted her decrees, she cannot be seen to treat elves who rebel against her rule any differently that she would any other traitors to the Empire."
"I know," Talia said, her pensive expression giving way to a wry smile at the Divine's look of surprise. "My brother has encountered similar problems. Centuries of prejudices and beliefs can't be reversed overnight. It's always going to be too fast for some, too slow for others...and he doesn't have a rabblerouser like Gaspard nipping at his heels."
"The Grand Duke is more than a nuisance, unfortunately," Justinia replied, though she would have paid good coin to see Gaspard's reaction to being dubbed a rabblerouser by one of his hated Fereldan 'dog lords'. "The elves are not the only ones who will suffer, should he manage to take the throne."
"You support Celene, then?" Talia asked her.
"I will support whoever rules Orlais," Justinia said, not without regret, "though I hope it will be Celene. I do not have the luxury of involving the Chantry in secular politics when our own house is in danger of falling down. With the templars in such disarray, our military capability is greatly reduced." She paused, then added, "You could be of great use as a commander, if you would accept a commission." In such times, people needed more than ideals to follow; they needed heroes, and the woman before her had proven herself a charismatic leader with a good grasp of tactics and strategy, but Justinia was not overly surprised to see her shaking her head before the offer was fully made.
"I'm neither Templar nor Seeker," Talia replied, "and no wish to become either. Besides," she added with a faint smile, "do you really want to be officially responsible for what I do?"
"You do have a point," Justinia conceded wryly. The Hero of Ferelden had a strong sense of right and wrong, but little patience for politics; when she decided to involve herself in a matter, things tended to get done and people tended to get upset. Placing her officially under the Chantry's banner was unlikely to change her; few besides Leliana had any power to sway her. Far easier to leave her free to act and the Chantry free to disavow all knowledge of her actions and commiserate with the offended nobles about the barbaric Fereldan in their midst.
I do know of someone who might suit your purposes, though," Talia went on after a moment's thought. "His name is Ser Cullen Rutherford."
"The Knight-Captain of Kirkwall?" Justinia asked in surprise. "Rumor has it that he fathered a child with a mage and fled with her when the circle fell."
"Married her, too," she confirmed, watching the Divine closely. "Is that a problem?"
Talia knew Chantry custom well enough to know what the official stance would be; that was not what she was asking. Times were changing; some of those changes should be resisted, but not all. Justinia cocked her head, considering. "He survived the rebellion in the Fereldan circle, did he not?"
The Warden nodded. "He's seen what happen when mages abuse their power and lose control, but he's seen the other side, as well. Devon said that he rallied the Kirkwall templars against Meredith when she went mad. He wants a world where his daughter can grow up without fear, whether she is a mage or not."
It was a worthy goal, likely shared by any number of fathers across Thedas. Balance would be needed to reestablish order: templars willing to see mages as something more than abominations-in-waiting, mages willing to see that templar abilities were a necessary safeguard to their magic, lest it overcome them. It lay with her to find that balance; she could not do it alone. "I will give the matter thought," she replied.
Talia accepted this with a nod. "When will Leli be back?" she asked quietly.
"In two days' time," Justinia responded. "Empress Celene has decreed a ball to be held in my honor at the Imperial Palace." A ball at which the Empress would not be in attendance; she would deal with the elven uprising, while the Divine would take a public stance on the mage-templar war. It pained Justinia that the elves had to be dealt with so severely, but there was more than enough chaos already churning in the world. "Leliana will attend me there."
One dark eyebrow arched. "A masked ball?" the Warden asked with the resigned air of one who already knew the answer.
"But of course," Justinia said with a faint smile. It was an aspect of Orlesian culture that annoyed the Fereldan to no end, though the Divine could understand her disdain. "But if you will indulge an old woman, I believe that we can arrange a surprise for her that will keep your presence there both unknown and brief." There seemed no end in sight to their current problems, but she could – and would – arrange a respite for these two who had already given so much for Thedas.
"You're not that old," Talia scoffed, but Justinia could see the interest kindled in her eyes, the desire to see her lover as quickly as possible warring with the appeal of surprising her.
"Compared to my predecessor, perhaps," the Divine replied with a rueful sigh, "but some days I feel ancient." The notion of another fifty years at this pressed down on her like a load of stone; if the Maker was merciful, He would take her before she was reduced to the doddering wreck that Beatrix had become. Just not before I have managed to make all this right, please, she prayed silently, her expectant gaze resting on the Warden, awaiting the answer that she knew was forthcoming.
"All right," Talia agreed at last, adding quickly, "but I get to pick my mask."
Author's Notes – Yes, I'm still alive. No high dramas, no more meltdowns. Just an incredibly busy life (but a good kind of busy, so I won't complain) combined with the mother of all writer's blocks that brought everything to a screeching halt.
Talia & Leli never really left my imagination, however, and DA:I got the muse moving again. This story will be a bridge of sorts, filling in the gaps between DA2 & Inquisition, mostly from a retrospective and abridged standpoint. I am back to working on Moments In Time, trying to get the 'Save Anora/Kill Howe' chapter hammered out. As I said at the beginning, there will be spoilers from that story & Two Of A Kind (kinda obvious, that), but I'm planning to save the details for the respective stories. Most of this story will focus on events that happened in the book 'DA: Asunder', with Talia added to the action. I'm hoping to get to an Inquisition story eventually, but we'll see. This isn't intended to be a long story, a few chapters, but muses sometimes get other ideas. There will likely be updates to 'A Dog's Life' and 'Stolen Moments', as well...just slowly. The busy life hasn't gotten much less busy, but I am starting to rebuild an actual schedule, which helps with writing.
(And as an aside, if you have not read the DA books, I'd recommend it. 'The Stolen Throne' & 'The Calling' were pretty lackluster IMO, but 'Asunder' and 'Masked Empire' were both good and deal with events and characters that figure prominently in Inquisition, adding new layers of depth when you play the game. 'Last Flight' was, I think, the best book of the lot, and I'm really hoping that they have incorporated that, as well.)
I'm working my way through Inquisition, and while overall I think they're doing a great job of bringing together the elements from games, books, graphic novels & all, some of the assumptions they had to make definitely didn't fit my vision of what my Warden and Champion would have done post game.
I started this before I started Inquisition, so the mention of Haven was a happy coincidence. The Wiki states that the Sacred Ashes had vanished when the Chantry arrived, but to me, if that had been the case, I don't think the Chantry would have turned the site into the holy shrine that it did. They would have been much more likely to simply ignore it. Besides, I kinda liked the idea of the Gauntlet remaining active, humbling the high muckety-mucks of the Chantry who tried to reach the Ashes.
I'm not really gluing myself to BioWare's canon timeline, either, since it doesn't make sense to me that three years would elapse before the Chantry went looking for Hawke after the cluster in Kirkwall. The scene in this chapter takes place about 8 years after the events in Awakening and a year after Anders blows up the Kirkwall Chantry. Talia is about 27 years old, Leliana is 35.
This chapter felt a bit uneven to write; I'm still trying to get a feel for who Talia has become and get past events laid out in my mind. Hopefully things will smooth out as I get back into the groove.