"Yes, vanity is a weakness indeed. But pride - where there is a real superiority of mind, pride will be always under good regulation." - Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen
Elizabeth Trevelyan eyed her father over the top of her book of Orlesian poetry, wondering what he was so cheerful about. Lord Trevelyan often joined his wife and daughters in the parlor after dinner, but he rarely displayed such good humor while doing so. Even when the young servant, Doris, handed him a report on the fighting - which was, by all accounts, getting much too close for comfort - all he did was smile.
"I daresay Ferelden is officially the center of the war now. This war, anyhow." He turned to his wife with a gleam in his eye. "Out of the pot and into the fire, wouldn't you agree, my dear?" he asked.
"Oh Lord Trevelyan!" she said, shaking her head. "I don't know how you can make jokes at a time like this. Why did we ever come to Ferelden? If only you had listened to me, we'd still be safe in Ostwick. Instead we'll be murdered by templars or apostates or worse, Orlesians, in the middle of nowhere." Elizabeth and her elder sister Jane shared an amused look.
"That isn't true, Mama," said Mary, the middle of the five daughters. "The real fighting won't come this far west for a while yet."
Lady Trevelyan scoffed. "Well, I don't believe a word of that."
"It's what Blackwall told me," Mary insisted.
Kitty and Lydia, the two youngest sisters, laughed. "Oh, Blackwall, of course!" Lydia exclaimed. "Tell me, Mary, when we're your bridesmaids, will we have to wear grey?"
"Hush," Elizabeth warned them. Recently, Mary had been training with a man called Blackwall, a Grey Warden recruiter. He was helping some of the younger people in town learn to fight, provided that they would consider joining the Wardens once he left. Like most things in life, Mary had thrown herself into the training completely, and most of her stories now revolved around Blackwall or Grey Warden history. She was as religious as she was serious, and Elizabeth had always assumed she would join the Templar Order one day, but that option was currently off the table.
"He says that the fighting is just as bad up in the Free Marches," Mary continued, after shooting a glare at her sisters.
"Do you think you could convince Blackwall to come stay at the house?" Lydia asked in a teasing tone. "I'd so like to meet him. And it would be fun to have our own guard, wouldn't it? Then we wouldn't have to worry about some templar coming to kill poor Lizzie."
Elizabeth snapped her book shut. "Poor Lizzie is sitting right here, and she is quite capable of defending herself," she said. She considered adding that most templars she knew would not kill an enchanter who wasn't even part of the rebellion, but the thought of discussing Circle politics with her family made her head ache. Instead, she turned to her mother. "Mama, I thought you were the one who wanted to move here in the first place." Lady Trevelyan's family was from Ferelden, and according to the letters Jane had written Elizabeth, she had insisted they leave Ostwick immediately after the disaster at Kirkwall, declaring the Free Marches no longer safe. Elizabeth joined them at Longbourn sometime later, after her own Circle fell and the war began in earnest.
"What nonsense!" Lady Trevelyan scoffed. "I would never suggest such a thing. I was determined to stay in Ostwick."
"Well, my dear," Lord Trevelyan said, "if that's the way you feel, I suppose we should give up our lease and return to Ostwick immediately. Packing up the place and saying our goodbyes should take- well, let's see. What would you say, Doris? Two weeks? Three?"
Elizabeth and Jane could tell he was teasing, but somehow, after nearly thirty years of marriage, their mother missed it completely and she flushed at being taken so seriously.
"Well!" she said, flustered. "I- That is to say, that seems rather hasty."
"No, no," Lord Trevelyan continued, "you are right. It is time that we return home." He gave another mock sigh, but was unable to keep his eyes from smiling when he glanced at Elizabeth. "What a shame it is that we will be so far away. I suppose we won't be able to send one of the girls to the Conclave after all."
Half of a second passed before anyone reacted. Even the eldest two were caught off guard. Then Lady Trevelyan shrieked happily, drowning out excited questions from Jane and Mary. Elizabeth, however, froze and remained silent.
"Our girls? The Conclave? Why Lord Trevelyan, you can't mean - " His wife was breathless.
"Ah yes, how careless. It must have slipped my mind!" he said. He began flipping through the letters in front of him. Finally he found a folded parchment and held it up to her. "Here we are. A note. The Chantry has asked us to send a representative from our family to Haven at our earliest convenience."
"Divine Justinia herself will be there!" Mary exclaimed.
"Chantry nonsense," Elizabeth heard Lydia mutter beside her.
"Oh girls!" said his wife as she grabbed the paper from his hand. "What excellent news! Why, think of all the important nobles who will be there!"
"Some of the not important ones, too, I imagine." Lord Trevelyan said wryly. "After all, we are invited."
She ignored his remark. "We must send Jane, of course. She is the eldest, and by far the prettiest." Their mother had always shown a preference for Jane and Lydia, the two girls who'd inherited her large blue eyes.
Lord Trevelyan's eyebrow twitched. "I did not realize that prettiness would be a factor. Why is that, my dear? Will the mages and Templars see Jane and be so overcome with admiration that the war will end?"
"Maker, Lord Trevelyan! Don't be silly. There will be all sorts of nobles there. I'm thinking of her meeting a husband, of course!"
"How ignorant of me," he agreed. "Of course the Divine's intent in organizing a war truce is Jane's marital status. Very well, if your only requirement is that the daughter we send be single, then I would prefer to send Lizzie."
"Lizzie!" her mother exclaimed. "But, Lord Trevelyan, you know as well as I do that she could never marry, and-"
Elizabeth had not yet moved, but she interrupted her mother before the conversation could go further. "I'm flattered, Father, but I'd prefer to stay at home."
Her parents looked surprised. "But wouldn't you know people from your Circle there?" her father asked.
Elizabeth paused before answering. "I'm not sure that they would be pleased to see me," she finally replied. Elizabeth had decided not to join the mage rebellion, instead returning to live with her family. While she'd been no fan of the state of the Circle, she found it difficult to support a cause so closely aligned with Kirkwall. Jane's eyes flashed sympathetically.
"Then Jane it is," their mother said triumphantly.
Lord Trevelyan's eyes were still lingering on Elizabeth, but after a moment, he faced his wife again. "As you wish. Though I suspect that Lizzie would have brought back a far more interesting report for me." He stood, taking the invitation and inserting it back into his book. "It seems, my lady, that we will have to put off returning to Ostwick until after the Conclave." He bid his daughters goodnight and left for his library.
Elizabeth frowned after him. Both Jane and Mary were silent, returning to their books, but she could see the warm smile on Jane's face, and the jealous pout on Mary's, who had not been considered by either parent, despite being the most religious of all the sisters. Another time, she may have tried to comfort Mary and congratulated Jane, but her mind was elsewhere. She stood and followed her father.
"Enter," his voice echoed from behind the door as she knocked. He looked pleased to see her. "Ah! Good evening again, Lizzie. Have you reconsidered? Jane will be upset, but I daresay she'll recover."
"No," she said. "I haven't." At times, it was difficult to remember that her family had not experienced the chaos that she did when the Circle fell. "Father… I do not think you should send any of us to the Conclave."
"What?" Her father's brow tightened, and he stood, placing his book on his desk. "Why not?"
"A gathering that large of templars and mages right now…" she shook her head. "What if tensions escalate? Violence could break out."
Her father scoffed at that. "What, in front of the Most Holy? No one would dare."
"This started at a chantry," she reminded him.
"A chantry in Kirkwall," he replied, speaking the last word as if the town's name had a bitter taste.
"Please, Father. I don't think it's safe."
His eyes softened and he sighed. "Lizzie, I know things must have been difficult for you in the Circle. But you aren't there anymore. And you can't let the fear they instilled in you take over. A girl like Jane needs to go out and meet people. This war has kept her at home too long. It will be good for her, you must know that."
"There must be somewhere else that-," she said.
He sat back down and opened his book again. "I'm afraid I've made my decision, Lizzie."
"Father, I-"
"This discussion is over. Goodnight."
She swallowed and left, closing the door behind her.
Later that evening, she slipped into Jane's room. As her sister greeted her, Elizabeth slipped under the covers for warmth, wondering if she should mention her concerns. If she revealed the extent of how she felt, Jane would stay home out of respect for her, and while she hated the thought of Jane alone in a room of mages and templars, she trusted in her sister's ability to make her own decision to go if she truly wanted to.
"Why do you even want to go?" she asked instead. Jane turned her head to face her sister and smiled.
"I would love to meet the Divine," she said. "You know how much I respect her. And it would be nice to be around other people for a change." Jane played with the end of her braid thoughtfully.
"And…?"
"And… I would like to meet some of them," she admitted slowly. "The mages and the templars, I mean."
Elizabeth gave a short laugh at that. "Denny and I left that good of an impression?" Denny Barris was Kitty's childhood friend who'd joined the Order.
"No, not like you two, you're both so reasonable," Jane explained. "You already defend both the templars and the mages, but you don't want to fight. And Denny was always so kind. I can't imagine him hurting a fly."
Elizabeth's mind flashed to the the kind templars she knew, and to their hard faces right before her Harrowing, but she decided not to speak of that. "So … you want to meet unreasonable mages and templars," she stated, confused.
"Well...," Jane hesitated. "I thought if I could just talk to them. Maybe get them to talk to each other… maybe tell them about you, and Denny, and…"
It clicked and Elizabeth burst out laughing. "Oh Jane. You want to go so you can personally end the war, all through the power of love and kindness."
Jane blushed furiously. "No! I mean… well… oh, it does sound rather ridiculous, doesn't it."
Elizabeth shook her head and hugged her sister. "It doesn't. Most people would say something like that to make themselves feel virtuous or powerful, but I know you too well to think that." She sighed, still holding her sister tightly. "You really put the rest of us to shame. They should make you Divine."
Jane shoved her, trying to look offended, but she couldn't hide her fond smile. "You're just like Father, you know," she said. They sat in silence for a few moments, Elizabeth on the verge of speaking, but finally she changed her mind. "I'll let you get some rest." She kissed her sister on the forehead and climbed out of bed. At the door she paused, but she decided her father was right. She should not let fear rule her life any longer.
Three weeks later, Lady Trevelyan clutched her handkerchief to her brow, shaking her head. "How could Jane do this to me?" she exclaimed, her voice breaking. "I told her not to go to the Conclave. I begged her! She refused to listen! And now she's dead. " Her chest shook with sobs.
Elizabeth grit her teeth. "We don't know that she's dead," she insisted
"Doris said 'no survivors'," Lydia said, her eyes wide and red. Kitty was behind her, weeping quietly. "And the explosion… that thing in the sky…"
"Doris wasn't at the Conclave, was she?" Elizabeth said firmly, while trying to ignore the eerie green sheen that colored the room. They had all felt the ground shake and heard the windows shudder when the Breach had appeared. "If there were no survivors, then how would we even know what happened in the first place?"
That thought quieted her younger sisters, but not her mother, who wailed again into her arm.
"Where is your father?" she exclaimed, lifting her head. "He should be here for me, that cruel, cruel man. This is as much his fault as hers! He wanted her to go."
"I don't know where he is," Elizabeth lied.
When her mother realized that her grief was not going to get her husband's attention, her wails began to cease. "I suppose we'll have to arrange a funeral," she said between her lingering sniffs. Her mother seemed to perk up at that thought, to Elizabeth's horror. "And I suppose no one would refuse an invitation. Even our cousins the Dalrymples would not dare…"
Elizabeth felt a ball of anger in her throat and swallowed it, burning her chest and stomach as she did. She stood and took a deep breath.
"Lydia, stay with Mama for a moment," she said and she left the room before her sister could reply.
She found her father on the stone bench by the river, as she knew she would. He was carving a stick into a point with a dagger and he paused, glancing sideways but not up at her. She could see the sorrow in his slumped posture.
"I'm sorry about Mama being… herself," she said.
Her father shook his head, not speaking.
"We still haven't heard for sure," she insisted. "Until she's found…"
"That could take months. Years," Lord Trevelyan replied in a low voice, staring at the sky. "The amount of destruction that this entailed…I find it difficult to believe anyone could survive that."
"We don't know that," she said, shaking her head. "We don't even know where she was for sure. Surely there were people in the villages, too." She placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Where? Haven? According to Doris, the place is being overrun by demons," he said, finally meeting her eyes. Elizabeth winced to see how aged he looked since the explosion that morning.
"Doris wasn't there, we don't truly know…" She gripped his shoulder more tightly.
"I should have listened to you," her father said suddenly, his voice breaking. "This is my fault."
"Don't say that," she insisted.
"You warned me…"
"Father," Elizabeth said softly. Something in the sky caught her eye. She saw a raven swooping towards them. It passed the river and glided lower, aiming for the house, near enough now for Elizabeth to see the note firmly tied to its leg.
Before she could even speak, she was running, following it. When it did land near the gate, she grabbed it, careful not to injure its wings. With trembling hands, she undid the note.
"Lizzie?" her father asked. He was right behind her.
Elizabeth did not reply, scanning the letter, and then she let out a startled laugh that sounded like a sob. For a moment she thought her legs would give out beneath her. "Jane's alive," she said. But she kept reading, her joy giving way to confusion. "But she's injured. And they… oh, Father!" She met his eyes, panicked. "Father, they think she's responsible!"
"What?" her father asked.
"She's a prisoner," she explained, her eyes returning to the letter. After a moment, she handed it to him. "I have to go to her."
"No," he said firmly. "I nearly lost Jane today. I can't risk you."
"She's wounded, unconscious, and surrounded by strangers." When her father opened his mouth to argue, she held up her hand and produced a small flame. "I'll go without your leave if I must. You won't be able to stop me." His lips thinned, but he didn't argue further.
"Go then," he said.
An hour later, Elizabeth was on her horse and making her way to Haven, her Circle staff strapped firmly on her back. She leaned down, urging the animal to move faster. Normally, the journey would take a week, as it had for Jane, and would require two stops to change horses. However, she used gentle healing magic to maintain a faster pace than usual, and planned to take a more direct, if less convenient, route.
Using her magic so freely felt strange. Lady Trevelyan and Mary were distrustful of mages, so she'd used it at little as possible at home. But with Jane in danger, she threw caution to the wind. At first the power flowed slowly, like a riverbed that had been dry too long, but soon the horse seemed to fly as he galloped towards the gaping hole in the sky.
Several hours later, she realized that she was very out of practice. The Veil seemed to tug at her, and not just because it was weakened. She was drinking from a well that could and would run dry if she let it, so she eased back. Immediately, the horse slowed, now constrained by the physical world, and she cursed. While she'd hoped to make the journey in two days on this road, she reconsidered now and concluded it would take at least three, perhaps four. The horse would need to rest, and she would need to allow her mana to replenish in the evenings. Disappointed, she pressed on.
On the second day, something strange happened and she heard another distant explosion. At first, she panicked, assuming that things had gotten worse, but then she realized her magic was flowing more easily and she chanced a glance up at the massive tear. The lightning had stopped and the swirling clouds looked less like a tempest, more gentle, like the rest of the sky. She breathed, not daring to feel relief. Even if it was safer here, that did not mean it was safer at Haven, and her mind was still on her sister.
On the fourth morning, she packed up her tent and bedroll and rejoiced to think that she would be at Haven within a few short hours. She only hoped that her sister was being treated fairly.
Or you could be too late, she told herself, feeling a distinct chill in the air. They may have executed her.
The thought caught her off guard, until a movement from the corner of her eye turned her head and she saw it. A Terror, and it had already spotted her. For a moment, she worried she was in the Fade, but then she remembered Doris saying that the Breach had brought demons with it.
It leaned down and shrieked at her. She twirled the staff and then slammed it down, drawing on her weakened mana to push fire at it. Though it tried to step away, its gangly legs were too slow and it burned, crying out in agony. She didn't relent, pushing harder and gritting her teeth as her mana whined at her, begging her to pull back. The demon leapt towards her and she was too slow to move away. She yelped, pain shooting through her cheek and chest where its talons hit her. She gripped her staff tighter and whacked its head, scrambling away when it toppled over. Swinging the staff towards it, she brought a new wave of fire, this one brighter than the last, and watched it twist in the blaze and then collapse. This time, it didn't get up and she took in a deep breath.
The fight scared off her stallion, and with her adrenaline no longer keeping her steady, the pain from her injuries was excruciating. She tried to reach out to him with her magic, but there was nothing left inside her, and she ended up limping around her camp in circles before she could finally find him. With a scratched voice, she spoke soothing words until he let her place her pack on his back and climb up herself. She did not even try to heal. When the horse broke into a trot, the pain doubled, so she reluctantly slowed him to a walk, slumping forward to support herself on his neck.
Those few short hours that she had estimated that morning became the whole day. At first, she was hopeful that her mana would refill, but the magnitude of her injuries seemed to cork it. She wondered, with a shudder, if she was subconsciously keeping herself alive.
As the light faded on the Frostbacks, she came upon the gates of Haven. All her thoughts sounded distant to her mind, but she recognized that she would not be able to get off the stallion. It was difficult to even sit up straight.
A guard was posted, and he looked over the wall, surprised. The guard called out to her; she tried to compose herself and reply, but all she could do was cough wetly.
"Stefan!" the guard cried, turning his head back to someone Elizabeth couldn't see. "Get the Seeker!" Then his head disappeared from view.
How long the Seeker took to arrive, Elizabeth could not say. Her mind was impaired, but she still knew who it must be-the Right Hand of the late Divine, Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker of Truth and, according to the letter, the person who had imprisoned her sister.
The gate eventually groaned open and a figure strode out with a firm hand on her pommel but her sword sheathed, much to Elizabeth's relief.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded in a heavy accent.
She composed herself as much as possible. "Elizabeth Trevelyan," she managed to say. The woman relaxed slightly when she heard her family name. She was followed by the first guard, who carried a torch in his hand, and she heard his sharp intake of breath when the light fell on her bloody tunic. "You have my…" Elizabeth began, but the effort to talk weakened her, and she felt herself slip from the horse.
The ground was frozen solid and provided a sharp reminder exactly where and how deep her injuries were. Darkness swirled at the edge of her eyes. Stupid girl, she thought to herself. It would do Jane no good if she were dead. She heard the Right Hand barking orders and after a short time, felt herself being lifted by strong arms. Dazed, she opened her eyes to see a human man with a beard looking down at her with concern.
"Take her to the Herald's hut," she heard someone say. Herald? she wondered vaguely. The hole in sky was very close here and she focused on it, trying to keep herself from passing out.
A door opened, and then she was inside.
"What is it?" a new voice said. The chest she was pressed against rumbled in response and she was placed on the floor, on a carpet. Her last name was spoken at least once, and then a new face appeared above her, an elven man with cold blue eyes. He knelt to touch her, and then she felt the reassuring pressure of healing magic surround her. It was cold, like fresh mountain water. She closed her eyes. The healing magic was followed by a brush against her mana.
"You're a mage," she heard the voice say with some surprise. She opened her eyes again to see the blue eyes looking at her with confusion. "Do you not have any healing skills?" She couldn't reply. He turned to the other man and said something.
She struggled to speak but choked. He brushed her empty mana again and understanding came to his eyes.
"Ah," he said, his tone disappointed.
"My… sister," she was able to choke out. "Jane."
The bearded man stepped into view.
"She's going to be alright," the other man said. All the tension in her left. With a laugh touching her lips, she finally let the darkness overtake her.