A/N: Slight AU-ish. Non-canon storyline.
Burns were the type of wounds Cassandra hated the most. The itch and irritation were the first things her mind latched onto as she regained her senses. She shifted, feeling a large patch of tender skin at her ribs rub against the bandages. Her right arm was firmly wrapped up as well, and there were more bruises announcing their presence the longer she stayed conscious. The Seeker took measured breaths, fighting through the pain-induced haze to remember…the battle. It was a heated one: them against a mage cult, who had ambushed them on the road to…
Cassandra's eyes snapped open, memory sharpening her senses instantly like a bucket of cold water. She jerked upright, only to have her ribs protest in agony. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself and riding through the lance of pain from the sudden motion. It subsided after a while, and she painstakingly rose to her feet. Cassandra trudged toward the tent flap, hoping against hope that her memory was somehow inaccurate, that it was just a bad dream. That what had happened…
The sunlight blinded her the moment she lifted the canvass. Her hand came up to shield her eyes as she scanned the camp. No sign of her. No red-haired mage talking to the soldiers, or poring over requisition forms, or reading a book blissfully in a corner.
Shit…shit!
"Cassandra…"
"Where is she?" Cassandra rounded on Dorian, who had come up beside her. The Tevinter mage took a step back, anticipating what was to come.
"Cassandra, we couldn't catch up to them–," was all Dorian could explain before he was grabbed roughly by the collar.
"You let them take Kathryn?!" the Seeker yelled, shaking the mage. "I sent you back for reinforcements! What were you doing, taking so long to–"
"Hey, hey!" Blackwall stepped in, wrenching Dorian from the Nevarran's death grip. Cassandra winced as she was pushed back, her wounds screaming in protest.
"Sorry about that," the burly man apologised, noticing the wince. He kept a steady hand on the Seeker to hold her back. "And please, let us not make a scene. It's not going to help matters."
Cassandra shoved his hand away, glaring at them both. Especially at Dorian, who made a show of straightening his collar and checking for damage. She held onto her side, trying to regulate her breathing.
"Do not worry, Seeker," Solas assured her, approaching to the trio. "We have already sent the scouts to pinpoint her location. Harding is leading the search, and I have spoken to my friends in the Fade for help. It should not be long until we are be able to locate the Inquisitor."
"How long have I been out?"
"Just a day."
"That's already one day too long."
"Come now, Cassandra," Dorian spoke up, finally satisfied with his outfit. He did not seem to bear a grudge for the manhandling. "Like our dear elf has said, it shouldn't take long before we locate her. In the meantime, we need to rest as much as we can before mounting our heroic rescue!"
"She has been taken by red lyrium cultists, Tevinter," Cassandra growled. "We have to get her back before they do anything to her."
They were probably already too late, she knew. The others did too; their heavy glances told all. There was no way the fanatics had spent all that time twiddling their thumbs and staring aimlessly at their prisoner. The thought of Kathryn under the mercy of her captors, with Cassandra unable to do anything…it was too much to bear.
"And we will, the moment we receive word of her," Blackwall promised, albeit sounding a little hollow. "But we have to be in top condition to face the mages again, and not carry wounds that reopen at the slightest movements. You're bleeding, Cassandra." He gestured at the growing spot of red on the Seeker's shirt, placing a hand on her shoulder. "We need to get you patched up again." Blackwall steered her gently but firmly toward the tent, and Cassandra did not resist.
Oh, she would be in top condition, she promised herself. She would make them pay. For every wound, every hurt they inflicted on Kathryn, she would pay them back in kind.
Ten times over.
The mages screamed as lyrium burnt in their veins. They fell to the ground one after another, where they were all finished off by the rest of the party. All but one. The woman was dragged to her feet like a ragdoll and slammed against the wall, head bouncing painfully against dirty stone. She met the Seeker's furious gaze with a smirk.
"Where is she?" Cassandra hissed, tightening her hold on the mage.
"Who?" the mage laughed, only to have herself slammed against the wall again. Her eyes went out of focus.
"Where is the Inquisitor," the Seeker repeated through gritted teeth, her question sounding more like a command. Every word a threat. Her blood boiled as her victim laughed maniacally yet again.
"The Inquisitor," the mage answered, a condescending smile on her face. "Is no more."
Dorian, Cole, and Varric winced in unison when the cackling woman was thrown across the room, landing on a table that fell apart under her weight and momentum. They kept quiet as Cassandra stormed over to the mage and pressed the tip of her sword against the pale, lyrium-marked throat.
"I will not ask again," the warrior warned dangerously, pressing her blade deeper. A thin trickle of blood ran down the mage's neck. "Where. Is. Kathryn."
"She is no more," the mage repeated herself, her smile widening into a fanatical grin. "She is no longer your Inquisitor, your Herald of Andraste. She has seen the light, and is one of us now." Her voice grew louder, laced with almost-religious fervour. "She is our Saviour, the one who shall lead us into–"
Her words ended in a burble, the sword buried deep in her throat.
"Well now, anyone knows how to pry information from a corpse?" Varric dared to ask, putting on his usual nonchalant air. The tightness in his voice, though, gave him away.
Cassandra growled dangerously at the dwarf's remark, but any potential outburst was fortunately prevented by Cole.
"Hunger. Pain. Ecstasy. I need power. The rush of thunderstorms, waves of crimson pouring through me. I am unstoppable. Give. It. To. Me!"
"And whose mind are you reading, dear boy?" Dorian asked, as Cassandra turned to the blond in confusion.
"Kathryn," Cole replied. "She is hurting. Deeper than bone. Torn from reality, dancing on the edge of madness."
An acute trill of anxiety surged through Cassandra.
"You can sense her? Can you tell where she is? Is she near?"
"Yes. Below us, through many doors and mages."
"Then what in Andraste's name are we waiting for?!"
The heavy wooden door flew off its hinges the moment Cassandra's boot slammed into it. The warrior held her sword and shield at ready, taking stock of the enemies in the room, who stood protectively around…around…
Her gaze fell upon the captive mage in the middle of the room. Kathryn was kneeling on the floor, her head bowed, long hair obscuring her face. Her wrists were shackled above her head, attached to chains from the ceiling – the only things supporting her weight. Her blood-stained clothes were ripped and torn in many places, and there was no sign of the armour she usually wore. The Inquisitor did not seem conscious – she made no movement whatsoever even after the ruckus.
Rage that had been simmering within Cassandra finally exploded in a ruthless charge at the group of mages. Her first victim's skull cracked hard against the metal, and the second suffered a blade through his gut. The third tried to throw a toxic-looking spell, but it was nullified by the Seeker, who cut his throat without second thought.
The battle was heated, but short. Dozens of spells were thrown across the room, crossbow bolts buried deep into vital spots, and deadly blades drank the blood of many. Once the room was clear, only the Inquisition was left standing. After ensuring their foes were well and truly dead, Cassandra hurried over to Kathryn. Shield and sword clattered to the floor as she knelt in front of the mage.
"Kathryn?" the Seeker called, gently tilting up the face that had haunted her for the past three days. Her voice died in her throat.
Kathryn's complexion was drained to an unhealthy pale-greenish pallour. There were dark bruises and cuts on her jaw, cheeks, and lips. But what truly made Cassandra's heart sink, were the thin red tributaries glowing on her skin. They were not as harsh as those on people who had consumed red lyrium for a long time, but it was bad enough.
"Bastards," Varric spat at the sight.
"They gave her red lyrium," Dorian stated, kneeling next to Cassandra and examining Kathryn closely. "Trying to turn her into their 'Saviour', perhaps. Whatever that is supposed to mean." His fingers hovered close to Kathryn's face, above the red veins. "It seems three days is enough for physical changes to manifest–ow!" Kathryn's arm landed squarely on his head. The Tevinter mage held onto the limb and glared up at Cole, who had unlocked the shackle holding her in place.
"Sorry," Cole said simply before moving onto the other shackle. This time, he made sure to hold on to Kathryn's arm and handed it carefully over to Cassandra. The Seeker frowned at the torn, irritated skin on her wrists where the shackles had bitten and chafed against.
"We should bring her back to camp immediately," the Seeker stated, wrenching her eyes away. "The soldiers can handle the rest of the fort." She did not wait for a reply. Gathering the inert body in her arms, Cassandra stood and strode quickly back the way they came. The party followed close behind her, with Cole carrying the Seeker's sword and shield.
"Execution is the best option, I feel. This man has already been driven mad by his consumption of red lyrium, and keeping him alive would only waste our resources. He was their leader's right-hand man, anyway. Not much of a chance that he'd work with us," Cullen thought aloud, fingers drumming on his sword's hilt. "Perhaps a public execution would discourage any future attempts on the Inquisitor's life…at least for the time being. And it would show that the Inquisition is not to be trifled with."
"A private judgment and execution would be better," Josephine disagreed. "A public one would raise concerns about Kathryn's health, and her ability to continue leading the Inquisition. Word is already spreading that she has been tainted by red lyrium –I have received a few letters inquiring after her wellbeing. A public display would only confirm their fears and the Inquisition's reputation would suffer."
"I agree," Leliana chipped in. "A private execution, and we can take care of any subversive…elements to stop – or at least slow – the spread of rumours."
"Very well," Cassandra spoke finally. "Cullen, work with our spymaster and see to the mage's execution. Leliana, take care of the rumour-mongers and possible spies. Send your own agents to track down the remnants of these cultists. And Josephine… do whatever it is that you do."
The advisors nodded in unison, grim resolve lining their faces.
"If there is nothing else, then we shall adjourn," Cassandra declared, picking up her own parchments from the war table.
Josephine drifted over to the Nightingale, pulling her into private conversation. The commander quickly gathered his things and joined Cassandra on the way out.
"I worry for Kathryn," Cullen sighed, keeping his voice low.
"I know. We all do."
"Of course. I just meant that–" He shook his head. "I hope the lyrium hasn't had time to run its full course."
Cassandra clenched her jaw, opting to stay silent. She had lost sleep at the thought of losing Kathryn to the substance. The red markings on the mage's skin had faded somewhat, and the healers found no evidence of growths on her body, but still Cassandra was worried. There was no telling how Kathryn's mind had been affected by whatever had been done to her.
"That is still a–"
"Seeker Pentaghast, Commander! Just in time." A voice rang out the moment they stepped into the throne room. A healer walked up to them eagerly, his face alight with hope, albeit with a tinge of anxiety.
"What is it?"
"The Inquisitor. She is stirring. We believe she is about to wake soon."
The Seeker's eyes widened, and she made a beeline for Kathryn with Cullen close at her heels. Taking the stairs a few steps at a time, Cassandra did not slow down until she entered Kathryn's quarters proper.
There was another healer sitting by the mage's bed, gently coaxing her to consciousness. Kathryn's brows were furrowed, and her breaths erratic. Her lips trembled, muttering garbled words that ran into one another. Her complexion, which had recovered much of its colour over the past few days, had regained its sickly pale shade. As Cassandra grew closer, the healer noticed her approach. The older woman nodded and stood, allowing the Seeker to take her place.
"Kathryn," Cassandra said softly, taking Kathryn's hand in her own. Slim fingers twitched restlessly in her hold. "Can you hear me?"
A whimper left the mage's lips, her head turning in the direction of Cassandra's voice. Shortly after, her eyelids slowly fluttered open. Kathryn's gaze took a while to come into focus, before resting on Cassandra. She stared at the warrior for a moment, then uttered her first word.
"You."
An odd greeting. The happiness that flitted through Cassandra's chest was promptly crushed when Kathryn shot up and away from her. The redhead pushed herself back against the headboard in panic, trying to put as much distance between them as possible.
"Kathryn, relax–," Cassandra started, hand reaching out to the Inquisitor, only to have it slapped away viciously.
"Get away from me!" Kathryn's voice cracked. Her eyes reflected the hysterical quality of her voice as she jumpily examined everyone in the room.
Cassandra put up her hands slowly.
"Kathryn. Listen to me. Relax. You are safe now," the Seeker calmly intoned, inching carefully over to the disheveled woman who stared at her warily. "We are back in Skyhold." She reached out her hand again. "Let us he–"
"No!" the mage screeched, unleashing a telekinetic blast that blew Cassandra off the bed.
Cullen – thank the maker for his reflexes – caught her in time and kept her upright. Hastily shaking off her disorientation and Cullen's concern, Cassandra returned her gaze to Kathryn and felt her heart drop. The mage was now on her feet by the bed, but she leant against the wall heavily, obviously lacking the energy to keep herself straight. That was not what made Cassandra worry, however. The thin red veins on Kathryn's skin had started glowing – traces on her hands, clavicles, neck, and especially around the edges of her face. Telltale signs of magic were swirling about her hands.
Years of training kicked in. Cassandra surreptitiously gathered her nullification ability. To her side, Cullen's hand came to a rest on his sword's hilt, but the Seeker stopped him. He looked at her questioningly, and she replied with a shake of her head. The commander's lips thinned, obviously biting down a protest. A severe frown creased his forehead. Cassandra knew he was frustrated, unable to use his templar abilities without lyrium. She half-expected him to defy her silent command, but he nodded, jaw set. I have your back.
Taking a deep breath, Cassandra took slow, measured steps toward the unstable mage. Her heart ached at the sight of Kathryn looking so petrified and paranoid, shaking as though she were caught in a snowstorm.
"Kath–" A bolt of red lightning lashed past, uncomfortably close to Cassandra's shoulder.
"Go away!" Kathryn screamed.
"Cassandra!"
She heard Cullen run toward them. Cassandra tried to motion him to stop, but it was too late.
"Get away from me, you templars!" The air around Kathryn rippled dangerously as she summoned yet another spell.
Cassandra needed no more prodding. She let loose a wave of cleansing energy just as Kathryn exploded with telekinetic rage. The Seeker was thrown off her feet, and the last thing she felt was the brutal collision of her head against the wall.