Kathyra
Time had its way of creeping by, slow, like blood through the veins of a hypothermic patient. It had been but a fortnight, but even that seemed too long. I had seen my world altered in the course of a single minute, a simple action, and the fewest of words. If change could move so swift, it did not seem fair that this change take my beloved from me for so long. I knew better than to be a hot-blooded, lovelorn fool, but that did not stop me from missing the one who held the confidences of my heart. It did not stop me from busying myself to distract me from her absence.
I continued my sketching on the rough parchment, compiling a guide for healers, per Leliana's suggestion, including images of the anatomy of humans, elves, and dwarves, the three races to whom I had ministered. Such volumes existed in Thedas, but they were exceedingly difficult to find, and most often were owned by the very wealthy, who often struggled to relinquish such valuable items, regardless of the importance of the knowledge. I continued my sketch of the human heart, my fingertips trembling as I remembered holding one in my hand not so long ago, attempting to massage life back into it…failing.
Another mage lost…I frowned, setting aside my charcoal and lifting a glass of wine to my lips. Another Harrowing "gone wrong". It seems that many Harrowings go wrong in the Gallows of Kirkwall. Thank the Maker that Kestrel has a messenger bird, and that she found a way for us to enter without being seen. We have saved the lives of five good men and women thus far, but it seems it is not enough.
My frown deepened and I set the wine aside. I had met Knight Commander Meredith once, in a life lived before. Even as a knight-lieutenant, she had been an intractable fanatic. It seemed the greater power and higher rank had not curbed her initiative, but speeded and strengthened. We did what we could to save the innocents ravaged by the grip of her iron gauntlet, but it seemed as though we could not do enough. Kirkwall was a body, and the rogue mages going to extreme lengths for freedom and the templars led by a madwoman were bleeding her dry.
When we had come here under orders from Divine Beatrix, to keep an eye on the unrest, and to place two agents in the Gallows itself, we had not known the depths of horror that we would witness. We bought a clinic in Lowtown. It had functioned as such earlier on, but those who owned it had been overcome by avarice, taking advantage of the refugees until the under-dwellers of the city turned against the proprietors, slaughtering them. The building had been repossessed by the city on the viscount's orders, and Leliana had purchased it.
The injured and ill of Kirkwall would come to us, their lips often loosened by panic, fear, and pain, and we discovered a great deal of information through that avenue. I was grateful that I remained able to ply my trade as a physician, to heal the sick and succor the injured. Even years removed, I had a debt to repay to my beloved Giselle…a debt that pressed more heavily on me because I had permitted my heart to heal and allowed myself to take another lover.
A lover that has been gone these two weeks. I sorely miss her, though I know that she was ordered to return to Val Royeaux alone. For what purpose, I cannot say. All I know is that I am worried about how this mission might continue under the leadership of the New Divine. Justinia V, once known as Revered Mother Dorothea.
I reached for the wine again, attempting to quell the bitterness rising in my chest and tightening around my throat. I had lost many things to Mother Dorothea. She had not always been a woman of wisdom, supreme kindness, and empathy. She had changed her life, seeking redemption and forgiveness, but there had been a time when…there had been a time.
That time is over now, I finished my remaining wine and filled the goblet again, returning to my charcoal and my sketch. It is long past time to forgive. Old wounds will always ache, but they need never be torn open, for then infection can set in, and kill.
I heaved a sigh as I continued to shade the powerful muscles of the heart, remembering with bittersweet fondness the times I had pored over sketches such as these, Giselle standing over my shoulder and asking me questions in her gentle, sunrise voice. My half-elven physician still held my soul, but another held my heart in the waking world. My Leliana. The woman that my sister had almost killed, placed in prison, and subjected to horrific torture for fourteen days. The woman who had staggered into the Chantry clinic, begging for sanctuary and her life. The woman I had stitched together and abandoned. Then, I had been too afraid to face aiding another because my own heart had been ripped to shreds.
Leliana knew all of that, now. It had taken me a great deal of time to gather the courage to tell her the litany of my failures and crimes against her. She had continued to be an unceasing source of awe and wonderment. Without a word she had taken me into her arms, pressed a gentle kiss to my lips, and thanked me for the life I had given her. I did not know how she could thank me for such a thing, for, in my mind, she had endured more horrors since leaving the life of a bard than she knew while in that life. However, I could not know the innermost depths of her soul, because it did not belong to me.
Her warden carries the other half of her soul in the land of the dead, as Giselle carries mine. But our hearts we have given to each other, to protect and to cherish, to remind ourselves that passion is something that exists in spite of pain and the tragedies that have stolen a half of a soul from the both of us.
A somber smile quirked my lips and I bent over the table, continuing to outline and map the heart with charcoal on parchment. A slow ache built in my neck, and my wrist began to burn from the arduous task of precision drawing. Absorbed in my task, I barely noticed when the wooden bench beneath me creaked and strong, gentle arms wrapped around my waist. I felt the softness of hair on my shoulder and caught a glimpse of fiery tresses in my peripheral vision before the scent of salt air and Andraste's Grace washed over me.
I dropped the charcoal and turned, taking Leliana in a fierce embrace. I held her tight for a long moment, my hands roving over her back, feeling the tension in her muscles and the delicate power of her body. I buried my forehead between her neck and shoulder, listening to her breathing, my lips tasting the salt on her pale, perfect skin. We remained like this for quite some time, and I could feel a change in her. I could feel that her return from Val Royeaux brought with it news, and not simply the news of a new Divine, but of something that would, perhaps, change the world.
I pulled out of the embrace and, before she could speak, captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Her skin was chapped from the sea travel, but it tasted as sweet to me as honey on the comb. A soft, contented sigh left her lips and my body pulsed in response to the gentle sound. Her lips parted the slightest bit, allowing my tongue entrance to her mouth, and we enjoyed the intimate duel and dance for as long as she allowed. I knew that, in spite of my happiness and relief at her return, nothing would pass between us this night but slumber in each other's arms. Perhaps not even that, depending on the change that had been wrought.
Our kiss ended and I pulled away, tucking her tousled hair behind her ears, cupping her cheeks between my hands, smiling into her tired, sea-blue eyes. We would both need to rest, and soon, but first there were things she needed to tell me. We had no secrets between us, and could read the other with ease, establishing a trust that many who loved struggled for years to attain.
"Welcome back, my love." I breathed, not welcoming her 'home', just as she never welcomed me home. We both knew that our homes rested nowhere in Thedas. They lay in the land of the dead, with the other halves of our souls. "What has changed?"
The smile that spread across her features made my heart race, but I could see the apprehension behind it and knew that her smile was for me, not because of what had transpired.
"Justinia, once Dorothea, now sits on the Sunburst Throne." Leliana informed me of what I had already known, what every Seeker and templar had already known. "And the Left Hand of Divine Beatrix was tried, sentenced, and executed for embezzlement of the Chantry coffers, and of using the Chantry to launder gold gained by illegal lyrium trafficking."
My brow creased in confusion. "This was on Dorothea's orders, I presume?" I asked, for I did not believe that I could ever think of Dorothea as the Divine, nor call her "Most Holy", for the word holy meant "set apart" and I knew too much of Dorothea's indulgences and human foibles, even if they were in the past, to accord her such a title.
Leliana shook her head in the negative, surprising me. "No. The order came from Lord Seeker Lucius, who had been investigating the Left Hand without Beatrix's knowledge or approval. However, he had substantial evidence and announced it tactlessly before Most Holy and the Nine. Justinia is scrambling to mitigate the scandal."
"Even the highest echelon of power needs its own checks and balances." I agreed. "The Divine herself must confer with the Nine in times of controversy."
Leliana nodded, though I spoke things we both already knew. "I am afraid that Justinia did not confer with the Nine on the decision that followed, for many of them were not well pleased."
"Oh?" I asked, sitting up straighter, intrigued by the edge of…fear?...in my lover's tone. "What has happened, Leliana?"
"Most Holy has already chosen her left and right hands." Leliana's tone lowered, and it was not exhaustion that darkened her voice, but trepidation.
"That is…highly unusual." I said when it became clear that she struggled to continue. "Many of them wait years, vetting people for those positions, until explicit trust exists between them and the ones they choose."
Leliana nodded. "I know." she replied. "Which is why many were not pleased. Justinia requested that Cassandra Pentaghast remain as the Right Hand."
"A sensible choice." I attempted to suss out why Leliana had become so reluctant to speak, and I thought perhaps it might be that Cassandra had retained her position, even though she served a new, and very different, Divine.
Leliana and Cassandra had not met under good circumstances, nor had their relationship flourished by any means. Cassandra was proud, intractable, imperious, and hot-tempered. She was used to others following her orders without question, and Leliana had never been the sort to take such a thing lying down. They had come to blows many times over the last few years, though their altercations had become much fewer and farther between. I knew Cassandra well; I could tell that the woman had gentled. She had become slower to anger, more willing to listen, and she had begun to subjugate her pride and mitigate her impetuous nature.
Cassandra had made great strides and I applauded the change of heart that I had witnessed in her the few times we had seen each other since Divine Beatrix had appointed myself, Leliana, Kestrel Ariyah, and Rylie Camerloch as a shadow squad to investigate the stirrings of unrest in Kirkwall. However, the Nevarran's temper still burned volcano hot and, at times, she still seemed willing to sacrifice lives and let means justify ends. However, there was no woman more loyal and dedicated to the Chantry and her Order than Cassandra Pentaghast. If Dorothea wanted a true and faithful heart as her right hand, she had made the best decision.
"I agree." Leliana nodded. "But I am not so certain of her second appointment." She paused, worrying her lower lip with her teeth. "Kathyra, my darling, I have been named the Left Hand of Divine Justinia."
My lips parted but they had no speech, and gooseflesh rose on my arms as all the blood drained from my face.