Act III

At Leliana's gesture the companions all took seats around the room. Eve enjoyed watching how each person chose the location best suited to their instincts. Varric chose a chair that let him face the windows while Zevran settled with his back close to a wall. Isabela grabbed a decanter of what was most likely ceremonial wine and stretched out on a sofa, cursing good naturedly when Hawke forced her to shift her legs and make room. Leliana sat between her two oldest friends, Solona on her right, Morrigan on her left.

Hmmm. Left and Right, a harbinger of things to come?

Bethany and Aveline both took up positions near Hawke and Isabela, ready to slap either one if they misbehaved. The Inquisitor sensed Cassandra assuming her watch stance, preferring to stand alert for danger rather than get comfortable. There'd be no convincing the Seeker to relax so Eve simply dropped into the chair closest to the hyper-vigilant warrior. It seemed all the guests shared a common interest in watching for trouble - or at least having a good seat for the show.

The Almost Holy relaxed in this company, taking off the Chantry headdress. Eve controlled her expression but internally started at the sight. Granted, it had been several months since she left Skyhold and before that there were barely a handful of times anyone had seen her without her cowl. When did her hair get so long?! Trevelyan tried to stay focused on the bard's face but couldn't help gliding over the fiery tresses. Gone was the utilitarian page boy cut, replaced by feathery waves that touched her shoulders and even below. The gentler look was almost shocking, softening the sharp lines of her face while accentuating each delicate feature.

The physical change was an unpleasant reminder to Eve that the woman before her was no longer her spymaster. She wasn't simply a part of her inner circle, an advisor for stealthily removing obstacles and silencing enemies. The Inquisitor had no fondness for the problems they faced over those many hours at the war table but a twist in her gut longed for the camaraderie of it, the security she'd always enjoyed in their mutual trust and purpose. The bard had achieved the highest possibly ranking in The Game. In a few short days she would not only dominate the board, she would set the rules.

Eve managed to shake herself from such thoughts just as the woman she was pondering opened her mouth to speak.

"It is public knowledge that I support mage freedom, a contentious stand to be sure. One many attribute to my associates," Leliana glanced to the women on either side, "That, however, will seem a minor indulgence once the people hear my intent to allow dwarves and elves to become initiates."

"Oh goody, are we going to have another schism? Can I please be on the side without any dwarves?" Varric begged. Was it possible to be racist when the species you hate is your own? To be fair he didn't hate all dwarves; just tunnel dwellers. And the Shaperate. And most of the Paragons. And then there was the Carta . . .

"That is exactly what we will prevent. Andreasteans hate change but they are devoted to signs. I intend to give them one. In two weeks when I make my first address as Divine Victoria I will announce it is time for all the Maker's children to be reunited - be they torn apart by magic, divided by politics or even separated across race," Leliana paused, a hint of excitement glittering in her eyes at finally getting to reveal her plan, "A mission that I will begin by restoring Andraste's lost blood to the Chantry."

The audience was silent as the unexpected thought wormed its way across minds. Andraste had children? Eve could vaguely recall her childhood lessons in the Chantry - particularly the fierce bruises she was constantly getting on her hands from getting her knuckles rapped for not paying attention – but she was fairly certain there hadn't been any heirs. Learning about the 3 sons she raised for Maferath had been a confusing crossover between history, theology, politics and a few awkward minutes of morality but young Trevelyan had come away quite certain that none of the boys were of the Prophet's blood.

Darting a glance up at Cassandra Eve hoped to find similar confusion or disbelief in the Seeker's eyes. On the contrary, the deep hazel was flashing with excitement, brow knit tight to stave off hope.

"You found them?" the former Right Hand demanded, the doubt of her tone unable to edge out wonder.

"The Divines of the ages have left quite a legacy of secrets," the redhead nodded, her lips curled in irony, "Justinia left me pieces of many and it has taken time to put them together. For centuries the Chantry has publicly declared that none of Andraste's children remain. Odd then, that I found an ancient contract for the assassinations of any such descendants. Commissioned over three hundred years ago and still unpaid."

"The Chantry hired assassins for people that don't exist? Think they'd pay me to hunt down the Summerday Nug?" Hawke grabbed the bottle of wine from Isabela long enough to take a sip.

"It's the Chantry, sweets. They don't bugger around. I'm sure they only hire the best," the pirate reached to steal her drink back but froze part way, eyes suddenly widening, "Blighted balls. They do only hire the best. This isn't going to be a simple jaunt through the House of Repose."

"No, it is not." Leliana confirmed with a small shake of her head.

"Shit. Crows? Not again." Varric groaned, a sound that brought a chorus of echoes from around the room.

"And now I know why I am here. I did wonder." Zevran smiled, crossing his arms in satisfaction.

"Oh yes, we will be needing you, Zevran. You see, my network has traced the contract to the House of Vici. You know them, yes?" Sister Nightingale so enjoyed teasing people with information. It was like watching a hunter lure prey with a trail of bait, each successive step a game drawing them ever closer to the ultimate trap.

"The oldest family to serve the Crows? I should have known as much. Naturally, dear woman, you could not have found any ordinary challenge for us to sharpen our teeth!" The elf's effusive enthusiasm was difficult for Eve to read – either he truly was pleased by the idea or his sarcasm was on par with Morrigan. They did spend a fair amount of time together once . . . a shared trait then?

"Generations of being Crows has cursed the family with excessive paranoia. Only Lady de Vici can decode the records her ancestors made on the contract and target. Which will first require finding the papers." Leliana elaborated further.

"The Archive. Been there done that, eh, Isabela?" Varric laced his fingers behind his head, reclining back in his chair as though he'd just kicked up at the beach.

"An unfortunate place for meeting old friends." The pirate agreed, her mouth twisting into something like a frown for the first time. Her eyes briefly darkened with an unhappy thought but it vanished with a blink.

"Which is why neither of you can go there again. The Crows have standing contracts on you both. Anyone who kills either of you receives their guaranteed protection for life. I am amazed the assassins haven't been beating down your doors." The redhead's eyes bounced back and forth between the two rogues.

"Oh, they've tried." The dwarf's mysterious grin suggested strange noises at night and mornings of scrubbing bloodstains from stone.

"Wait, you can't plan to use Zevran," Isabela suddenly objected, "He's beautiful with any sort of blade but he doesn't know traps from a pair of tits!"

"I would argue they are often one and the same." The elf supplied without trace of offense.

"No," Leliana agreed, "He will be most useful in dealing with Lady de Vici. But the archive will require someone with a unique touch."

"Hawke doesn't go without me." The Rivaini swung her legs off the sofa and even set down the bottle of wine. That was about as serious as she could get without a weapon in her hands.

"Calm yourself, Isabela. I would not dare separate you. Or put your Champion at risk. There is another thief I have in mind – a master in the trade who happens to have fallen on hard times. Unfortunately, acquiring her services will be," the bard paused, finding the right word, "Complicated."

The Inquisitor listened carefully as the future Divine outlined the impossible, extending the tendrils of her thoughts to wrap around the large scheme as it was woven. A lost mystery buried in coded research in a booby-trapped vault. A reclusive and deadly noblewoman with the only decryption key. An expert thief held in prison by the Qunari for stealing too many secrets. It was the sort of dangerous intrigue Josephine would adore, Cullen would despise and Varric would make money writing about. It was pure Nightingale. Eve's heart happily skipped a beat at the very thought.

"Since this thief is stuck in a Maker forsaken nughole on Rivain I assume you want me and Isabela going after her?" Hawke concluded after Leliana finished speaking.

"Bloody Ox-men. I hate Rivain." The pirate complained but relaxed back to lean against the Champion. Irritation couldn't quite erase the seductively melodic lower notes of her voice. The only time sex left her tone was in battle and even that wasn't guaranteed, depending on whether Hawke was nearby.

"You're from Rivain." Aveline pointed out. The speed of her argument felt like a reflex, no one retorted that fast unless it was habit. Eve remembered that some of the best parts of Varric's Tale of the Champion were the fights between these two.

"I'm from Llomeryn, big girl. Different world. They know how to make a ship, a drink and a man." Isabela corrected with pride.

"And if we ever get there I'm sure you'll demand all three." Hawke sighed, wrapping an arm around the pirate who'd reclined against her.

"Care to join the fun, Inquisitor? I'm sure we'd find some use for you and your Seeker." The dark sailor winked, her invitation extending well beyond the mission at hand.

"Hang on, Rivaini. Her Inquisitorialness has pull in Antiva. She's also the only hero the Crows haven't tried to kill." Varric pointed out the unique advantages Trevelyan held. Solona and Hawke both subtly nodded in agreement, the heroic cousins sharing the same pursed lip frowning expression of unpleasant memory.

"Not yet, anyway. I'm sure I'll eventually ruffle some feathers." Eve had enough other people that wanted to kill her; paid assassins weren't even going to make the top ten threats.

"The Inquisitor and Seeker will not be joining either of you. I have a separate matter for their concern. I suggest all of you travel together as much as possible. Varric, you and Zevran will make contact with Lady de Vici. Hawke, Isabela, acquire the thief and she the records. Captain Aveline?" Leliana's calm authority held everyone in respectful suspense, "Keep them from doing anything stupid."

"Why do I always get the hardest assignments?" the redheaded guard murmured, only partially sarcastic.

"Come now, big girl, a little hardness never hurt anybody. And a big hardness can be even better," Isabela teased, "You're probably just not getting enough to be used to it."

"Shut up, whore." Aveline rolled her eyes. Her irritation sounded familiar, in fact, it sounded suspiciously like the same tone that snuck into Cassandra's voice whenever she dealt with the pirate.

"Wait – what was that bit you snuck in there about the two steel stud-buckets? They're not going with us?" The Rivaini woman's mind caught a new thought and shifted gears.

"I require their help for a different issue. Perhaps now would be a good time for us to discuss it separately?" Leliana rose gracefully from her seat, a tilt of her head beckoning both of the warriors to follow.

"Maker's Flaming Ass! I told you, Hawke, they're having the foursome without us!" Isabela's lustful envy felt like it could burn holes into Eve's armor as she rose to follow Leliana and Solona from the room.

"That is most definitely not going to happen." Cassandra stated, voice as cold and firm as a blade. Her stern gaze broke the pirate's lascivious eyes away from Eve's retreating backside.

"So glad to hear you say that, sweets. We'll be ready anytime you are." Isabela grinned, a single deliberate wink making the Seeker realize precisely how wrong her words had sounded. Her face hurt from the sudden flames of red heating her cheeks. Her embarrassed anger was perfectly synchronized with Aveline's disgust.

"Pirate whore." Both women muttered before the door closed behind Cassandra.


Cassandra Pentaghast unbuckled her weapon and hung it off the back of a chair. The usually comforting weight on her hip had begun to feel heavy during the afternoon conversation with Leliana. Yet it so clearly wasn't a mere physical burden that bothered her.

The Rite of Reversal. Maker.

Logically, she'd known it was bound to come up sooner or later. From the moment she read the history of the Seekers and understood the secrets that had been so painfully hidden, she'd known that it would be her fight. She would have to right the wrong of it. Her predecessors had made terrible choices and pushed their problems to the future. To her.

She stripped her breastplate and let it fall to the floor, the flaming eye of the Seekers of Truth staring up at her. With a scoff in the back of her throat she used her foot to flip the armor over, too angry with the Order to see yet another reminder. A few long strides took her outside onto the balcony. All of Val Royeaux was overflowing with visitors; faithful pilgrims, fashionable nobles and shrewd politicians had all swarmed upon the capital city for the enthronement but Leliana had arranged for her close companions to be given quarters within the Grand Cathedral itself.

Resting her elbows on the balustrade Cassandra gazed down to the pristine white courtyard below. The soothing sight helped calm the swirl of her mind. After a few minutes of meditative silence and deep breathing she was able to do what Seekers were trained for: set aside emotion and focus on fact.

A mage made Tranquil just before the fall of the circles, before the outbreak of war. She was probably one of the last to undergo the punishment. If the girl had simply managed to evade the Templars a little longer she probably would have been able to escape completely into the chaos. Besides, running away wasn't enough to deserve Tranquility. Even on the fourth offense. Killing two of the Templars that came after her? That had been the mistake. Montsimmard was known for being one of the most merciful and lenient Circles but dead bodies meant consequences.

The Tranquil could lead productive, useful lives and Cassandra herself had witnessed mages volunteering for the rite when they grew too fearful of the demons whispering to them at night. They found peace, safety and satisfaction. The Tranquil were some of the best enchanters, they were so efficient they all but ran the daily life of the Circles. They could be quite ingenious at problem solving and their unfailing logic had often been useful in many of the Order's investigations.

Truly, Tranquil could do many things. But there were three things they could never do: use magic, access the Fade or feel emotion. No spells, no dreams, no smiles (except to make other people feel less nervous because, truthfully, they made everyone nervous). That was why the reports from Montsimmard caught Leliana's attention. This woman/mage/Tranquil had been displaying uncharacteristic behaviors. It might have gone unnoticed during the maelstrom and confusion of the war but now mages were returning to the Circles because they were safe and familiar and with that return the flow of information resumed once more.

A Tranquil should never be heard to laugh. They shouldn't be capable of twisting words with sarcasm. They shouldn't be seen struggling in their sleep. Under no circumstances did a Tranquil pick arguments with others or engage in a love affair. Let alone three. It added up to a single, inescapable conclusion: the Rite of Reversal. It was possible that this mage was the first to have successfully broken Tranquility since knowledge of the solution became public.

Leliana's frown on admitting that the information bled to the Circles before Justinia V could suppress it was an eloquent disapproval. This future Divine would have no such lapses during her reign. But as it had happened, she would make it work in her favor. The first reversed Tranquil would be a potent symbol for the mages of Thedas and a powerful ally. Depending on the nature of the woman she could bring her kind peacefully into the folds of the Chantry or spark a second revolt. A Tranquil revolt, what would that look like?

"You're lost in thought again." Playful words broke into Cassandra's thoughts. Instinctively, the line between her brows smoothed ever so slightly and the corners of her mouth eased up from their scowling frown.

"I am enjoying the view." The Nevarran shrugged, deliberately keeping her back towards her visitor.

"Seekers of Truth are terrible liars. I've told you that a dozen times," Eve chided with a laugh, "You're so distracted you didn't even hear me come in. I could have stripped naked and bounced on the bed without you noticing."

"In that case you would simply have to demonstrate for me anything I had missed." Cassandra finally turned, knowing she couldn't suppress a smile and not bothering to try. She half expected to see the Inquisitor exactly as she had described, her desire for attention often outweighed mature behavior. In this case the woman was still clothed, though she was in the process of dropping her weapon and armor.

The Seeker allowed herself a few seconds of careful scrutiny, silently marveling at the strange perfection that had fallen into her life. She'd never imagined that falling in love could happen so easily or under such circumstances as theirs but from the first time the Inquisitor had been bold enough to kiss her it had been inescapable. Even now, after sharing a bed so often that Sera had taken to giving Cassandra advice about small clothes, (horrifying advice that dwelled far too often on things with holes) she still found herself wondering if it was real. Perhaps they'd never escaped the Fade at all and this was the dream that would hold her captive 'til death? Cassandra found Eve's eyes watching her, clearly amused by her distraction. With a touch of internal rebuke she shook herself and walked back into the room, wiping the expression off the Inquisitor's lips with the sudden and thorough attention of her own. There are worse ways to die.

"Lovely as it would be to explore where that leads," Eve managed to pull away, despite the stitch in her breath that protested such discipline, "I think you should tell me what you're thinking. You were awfully quiet when Leliana told us about Montsimmard."

"Tranquility never should have been given to the mages." Cassandra stated flatly and shocked herself. She'd never so much as thought the sentence in her mind yet here it was fully formed on her lips. It repeated in her head several more times, with each repetition growing more firm.

"Then the dangerous ones should've just been given up to demons or slain?" Trevelyan's eyebrows knit together in puzzlement.

"No," the Seeker sighed and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the pieces of thought that had been careening through her mind for months into a semblance of order, "If they were in danger or posed a threat then Tranquility is still better than death but it never should have been in the hands of the Circles to decide. The Seekers invented Tranquility, we are the order dedicated to the protection of all from magical abuses. It should have remained solely our responsibility to perform the Rite and only on those mages that met our criteria, not the arbitrary rules of their peers."

"That probably would have been better," Eve conceded, sitting down beside the brunette and catching her hand in a secure grip, "But it's ancient history now, Cassandra. Unlike a lot of the other atrocities of our recent past – this is one we can fix."

"It will take a long time." The Nevarran frowned, patience was never her strong suit. Clearly, Leliana wanted this mage for a reason. Apparently to show the Chantry's official approval of the Reversal. She might even form and announce some new process for appealing the Circles' past judgments and prioritizing those who should be released first.

"Well, right now I don't have any fanatical cults or false gods to deal with. Even the dragons have been quiet lately. I think the Inquisition could spare some help." Trevelyan's tone aimed for casual but there was determination beneath the words. The truths she'd learned from the first Inquisitor had left her with a sense of duty towards this very problem. She and Cassandra had spent many nights in long conversation on the subject. Tranquility may have been invented by the Seekers but it was when they were still the Inquisition. It was not the legacy they wanted to leave and if was within her power now to wipe the blot off their record, how could she walk away?

"Very well. Now that I'm done being distracted, I believe you had something you wanted to show me?" Cassandra's mouth turned at the corner to a trace of smile as she leaned closer, feeling the staccato breath that was Eve's chuckle.

The door of their room burst open with a massive noise like a sapper's explosive. There was a blur of skin and weaponry rushing past them and out onto the balcony. As Trevelyan and the Seeker watched, the blurred shape slowed long enough to recognize a blue bandana over rampant black tresses. Isabela caught their eye as she hoisted herself over the balcony railing, a long piece of intricately carved silver in her hand. She blew a kiss before vanishing completely from sight.

Pounding footsteps arrived just before another surprise raced into the room. The armor of Guard Captain Aveline was so thoroughly polished it gleamed like a mirror, except for the areas that had been soiled with hot wax and mashed bits of candle. She instantly recognized her target's escape route and raced to the balcony.

"Isabela, that candlestick is holy and priceless!" the redhead shouted at the escaping rogue, "You sell it and I will set fire to your ship!"

"Not a chance, big girl! Hawke and I have far more interesting plans for this little beauty," the shouted retort laughed back, somehow rich with blasphemy and seduction all at once, "Keep chasing me and I'll have to assume you want to join in too!"

"Maker save me." Aveline groaned and turned away in furious defeat. It was only then that she realized the room had other occupants, quickly squaring herself and framing apologies. Cassandra held up a staying hand.

"If memory serves, there is a special tea in the store rooms that used to be brewed for Beatrix when she could not sleep. In moderate doses it aids gradual and peaceful slumber but if you were to, say, triple the measure . . ." the Seeker left the thought and its ensuing possibilities hanging in air. There was no winning this night's battle but the next needn't be as impossible.

"That," Aveline began to smile, "Is the first good thing I've heard all day."


While I have this plot sketched in my head I'm still feeling for a lot of the edges. Comments and reviews will be especially helpful for fleshing it all out. Thank you!