Chapter 9: In which the Darkness finds the Light

The Largest of the Mother's Children barely felt it when the scout died. That quick flash of tainted spark flailing out and then gone in a rush of water. He'd felt many such die and it always meant nothing. They meant nothing.

This time, however, the instant before the scout had died meant everything. Wooden support beams hanging over rushing water that had worn an opening through the confounding stone to the dark places beneath. An opening the humans had set no immediate watch over.

He didn't need to gesture or order. They all knew in the instant he decided and swarmed up into the darkness. The light would be theirs. Tonight.

"Where are we going?" Angelica asked tentatively. As she looked up at Dorian's grim face, she thought maybe she didn't want to know.

"Somewhere that no one here will expect me to take a woman." His answer was odd but he smiled wryly down at her, perhaps to keep her from being afraid at such a threatening pronouncement.

If that was his intent, it hadn't worked.

He'd taken her through a door at the back of the library, across a strange balcony that had been turned into someone's bedroom (how strange) and was now leading her through a door to the outside. "It's night!" She exclaimed as they passed onto a long rampart and turned right. The testing had taken all day. Where the children alright? Was her baby alright? Where were they? The worry prompted the words. "Where are the children? Where is my baby?" Dorian sighed. "I'm not certain where they are, but I AM certain that they are well cared for."

She wasn't as certain as he was and couldn't stop her body from tensing. She was getting awful damn tired of being shuffled around like a thing rather than a person. Bitterness tried to rise in her but it couldn't find sufficient foothold for her to take action. Yet.

Perhaps he felt her uncharacteristic bit of rebellion because he gave her a small squeeze with the arm wrapped so carefully around her shoulders. Or perhaps he was making sure she wouldn't run. She thought he was a friend, but with what had just happened in the library she couldn't be sure that was still true. Perhaps he tuned in to that too, because his next words were surprisingly appropriate. "I wouldn't let anyone harm them. I would never abandon a promising chess partner."

"Alright." She acquiesced as he took her to one of a line of doors that opened onto the balcony over the garden. She stopped dead when she saw the room it opened onto, however.

The furniture was utilitarian, but the rest was clearly not. Fine Tevinter patterned fabrics draped the wooden surfaces while books and diagrams and a few bottles of some kind of alcohol littered nearly every table but the one to the side of the fireplace. Fine leather armor and robes graced several stands along one wall. And in the center, the bed was covered in warm blankets and more pillows than she'd ever seen. The room matched the man she realized as she glanced up at his well groomed face.

At her stop he looked down at her, quizzically. "No need to fear. You are a beautiful woman, but I have no intentions against your virtue. Quite the opposite in fact."

It was Angelica's turn to look quizzical. What was he talking about? She knew how thin and ragged she looked. "I'm not beautiful. I...didn't even think of that. I just, are you hiding me?"

He actually laughed. "Well, dear lady, you catch on quickly, although I do disagree on the relative merits of your appearance. Some decent clothing and a bath and the world will be at your feet." He grimaced. "Although after...healing the tranquil, I have a feeling that they already will be. Either that or trying to kill you."

He stepped into the room past her and with a slight flick of his hand and a muttered word she didn't understand the fireplace was blazing. "And now, my arm is nearly frozen from holding you. I think perhaps you should come in out of the weather."

Makers mercy, she hadn't felt warm in what felt like forever. She was cold so often that she'd given up on the idea of ever feeling truly warm again. If he was luring her, he'd chosen exactly the right tactic.

Admitting defeat, she swallowed and then stepped in, and then further in...then with a rush she nearly threw herself in front of the fire. Eye's closed to drink in it's warmth, fingers held close enough she could feel the hair curling on her arms. She hadn't realized the amount of tension her body had been using to keep her going in this icy fortress until it began to drain away.

"This...feels like heaven." Her voice couldn't help but reflect the sheer relief of finally feeling warm. Feeling normal for a moment. Tomorrow would be anything but normal. She knew it. She'd had very little contact with the tranquil outside the few at the Chantry in Edgehall but she knew the basics of what being made tranquil meant. And from what she'd heard, there was no cure. A flash of thought crossed her mind. She knew it was the Maker who did these things, but how? Why her? Her mind skittered away from looking at the topic too closely. Instead she leaned in a bit, folding her arms across her body so she could scoot closer to the fire. The world began to fade away with the heat.

Dorian laughed softly as he came to stand beside her. "They will never forgive me if I let you catch yourself on fire by falling asleep in the fireplace. But, I completely agree. Some days I feel as though I must become a statue of ice here if I stand still too long." Touching her shoulder gently he spoke more quietly. "You've had a trying day, and I have a feeling tomorrow will be more so. You will be safe here tonight. I'm going to step out to get us something to eat. Promise me you won't try to leave?"

She pondered that a moment. She could feel the delayed desperation of worry for the children, but it was muffled under the relaxation of finally feeling truly warm and safe. Her eyes began to droop as her muscles fully relaxed in the heat. It had been a very long, VERY LONG day. Perhaps the Maker would forgiver her this one moment of selfishness.

"Maxwell won't hurt the baby. He wouldn't if he believes she-" She could feel herself nodding off and started awake again. Dorian's puzzled silence was all but palpable, but instead of asking what she meant he helped her off the floor and guided her to sit on the bed.

"I hope my father never hears about this," he muttered as he removed her threadbare shoes, glancing at them with a grimace of distaste. "I'm sorry. I don't want to put you out." She muttered. Sleep was rising up like a tide of darkness to claim her exhausted mind and heart.

"Pish. Now, rest. I'll wake you for sustenance...if I can find anything reasonable at this hour." He gently pushed on her forehead with an arrogant huff, tipping her onto the pile of blankets and pillows.

Maker, Andraste, whoever else she couldn't think in this moment to invoke, she'd never felt anything so comfortable in her entire plebian life. It was like laying on clouds. She roused just enough to mutter as he left, "Dorian?" He looked back from the doorway. "Yes?"

"Thank you." He smiled and closed the door, shutting the world out and the warmth in.

"Merde," Leliana swore under her breath. Getting the crowd to move away and leave the poor tranquil woman alone had been one of the more challenging things she'd done recently. The close quarters of the library balcony hadn't helped. She'd resorted to giving them her 'look of death' which had worked beautifully, but would likely spawn even more terrifying gossip about her before the night was through. She wasn't certain whether that would be a good thing or a bad thing. Likely a bad thing...

Finally they'd all left but Vivienne, Solas, herself and Helisma. A much more manageable group. She moved forward to kneel next to Vivienne and the tranquil woman, well, formerly-tranquil woman it seemed. She needed more information, though, to understand what had actually happened. "Helisma, talk to me. How are you feeling?"

Solas snorted at her choice of words and she cast him a glare. Helisma's wails had finally lessened to quiet sobs, but she didn't respond. Vivienne touched her cheek with surprising gentleness.

"Breathe dear, in...out, that's good. Now again. There is no rush to answer. Whenever you are ready."

Leliana afforded herself a quick glance at the Knight Enchanter. She'd not seen her like this before. Of course, Vivienne noticed and quirked an imperious eyebrow at her. Leliana hid her smile and turned her attention back to Helisma.

"I...feel. I feel, everything. It's not my fault." Helisma's stumbling words drew everyone's attention back to her. Fear and wonder were chasing each other across her face, until it finally settled on fear.

This could not stand, Leliana frowned. Such a beautiful thing, a healing. A gift from the Maker and the poor woman feared it. If there was any blasphemy or wrong in this, it was on the part of a Chantry that forced a mage to fear the touch of the Maker. Leliana tamped down her ire. The last thing she wanted was for this tranquil...no, mage to feel afraid of her gift. They'd already seen where fear had taken the mage-templar conflict. They couldn't afford to fail again. She touched the woman's brand, and spoke, not bothering to hide the wonder in her own voice.

"It will be alright. The Voice of the Maker has shown you his love. You should never need to fear that. Can you tell me what exactly happened?"

Helisma repeated herself. "I feel everything. Everything I should have felt while I was," she stopped as if she couldn't say the word again. "All the pain, all the hurt, all the shame, everything." A sob broke her voice, and Leliana's heart at the same time. "How do I bear that? I don't know how to...she touched me. The woman touched me and I could feel love. So much love it filled me up, and then I could feel everything."

Vivienne broke in, deftly changing the direction of the conversation. "Darling, do you feel your magic?"

Helisma stopped for a moment. In thought, her face fell back into the cold neutrality of the tranquil expression. When she spoke again, it was a whisper. "Yes." Vivienne drew in a worried breath.

The sounds of several pairs of feet pounded up the stairs and Leliana sighed. Time to face the music.

Or, the Inquisitor actually, as his was the first face to appear.. Followed swiftly by Cullen, Josephine, and what was likely the templar that Solas had sent to fetch them. Leliana stood and turned towards them, studying each expression as they took in the scene.

Josephine looked distracted. If she knew the ambassador, her mind was going in a thousand directions of 'how can we make this work to our benefit rather than our detriment'. Maxwell looked straight out worried and Cullen.

Her glance lingered on Cullen. He looked exhausted and drawn. It wasn't common knowledge the things he'd gone through in Kinloch and Kirkwall. Even she knew only the official accounts as he'd never consented to speak about it. He'd tried to take on a more balanced view of mages since he'd joined the Inquisition, but with mixed success. Of them all, he was the one she was most worried would create problems for the weeping woman at their feet.

The Largest of the Mother's Children watched from the edge of the ledge where the scaffolding had ended. The remainder of the horde appeared as ants on the stone and wood as they followed him up the sides from the waterfall. Many had died, grips lost on the damp stone and then a silent fall into the darkness.

But many had lived to bring a silent death to the one guard drowsily perusing the empty cells of this deep place. They filled the room waiting for his signal, silent, but restless. They wanted to feed. They wanted to take.

But first they must help him take the Light for the Mother.

"So, you're telling me that she actually healed the tranquil without using magic?" The Inquisitor's voice radiated with disbelief as he glared at Solas. It was all Cullen could do not to pinch his eyes. He'd directed the templar to accompany Vivienne and Helisma as the Knight Enchanter took the healed tranquil to the mages quarters. He'd noted the tension in all three of them as they'd left.

Andraste preserve them, but this situation was set to create a firestorm of conflict. Maker, why do you always sit me right in the center of these things? Cullen wanted to rant at the heavens, but instead he stood silently listening as Maxwell questioned.

He himself was already conflicted about this. He'd witnessed the woman perform a possible miracle once, but had half explained it away as the healers being wrong and the Inquisitor not having actually been dead. Adding this to that, however, meant...things he really wasn't ready to ponder.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying. I don't know how she has done this, but clearly, the mage is no longer tranquil. There were three of us AND a templar there to witness that this was not done through magic." The elven apostate looked unconcerned as he responded. This time Cullen did pinch his eyes.

"That can't be the case. It's impossible," he cut in, following it with a silent plea, please Maker, let it be impossible. Leliana spoke up. "Doesn't the Chantry teach that all things are possible for the Maker?" She had been mostly silent as they'd listened to the report of what had taken place. Cullen sighed inside. Here it was. Conflict.

"It does, but she is not the Maker." Maxwell answered tersely. "Do you not believe in your own God?" Solas asked, with perhaps a shade of irritation, Cullen sighed again. It was clear the mage intended to be difficult about this. With frustration he noticed his hands were shaking. Damn, this was not the time.

Maxwell gritted his teeth. "I do, but I know her. She's not divine, she can't be."

"Why not?" The smooth drawl interrupted and they all turned to Dorian as he leaned nonchalantly against the doorway he'd just come through. Leliana had said he'd taken the woman, Angelica, away from the crowd but she wasn't with him now, Cullen noted.

Maxwell sighed. "Because the Chantry has already sent threats about the claims of her being the voice of the Maker and because-" Maxwell grimaced. "Because if she is, then my sin is much greater than I'd ever thought and I don't want that to be true."

"Such honesty becomes you. However, it doesn't change the fact that there was no sign of magic in her actions." Solas gestured then folded his hands behind his back. Dorian nodded and, abandoning his pose, stepped forward to officially enter the debate. "I can attest, there was no feeling of the veil at all, nor of the fade. None of the tingling sense we get of each others magic when we use it."

"Where is she?" Cullen asked what he considered the more important question, frowning again when Dorian grimaced and answered evasively. "She is in a safe place where I can watch her. Currently she is sleeping. She has had a long day." He turned pointedly to the Inquisitor. "She was very concerned about the disposition of the children and her baby."

"They are being kept in a safe and comfortable place. She need not worry about them. Once we've settled the danger her actions pose to them and the Inquisition, they will be returned to her care." Maxwell rubbed his face with a tired frown. "The infant is my daughter so we...that is a private matter for she and I to discuss."

Ah, so the scene he'd witnessed that morning had been exactly what it had seemed. This whole thing was just getting better and better. And by that, Cullen grimaced, he meant not. He could feel the disconnection of the lyrium withdrawal creeping up on him. It had been getting worse lately, even after months of being abstinent. This had to be the worst possible time for that to be an issue. He began focusing tightly on the faces of the people around him as an anchor.

Solas had just raised his eyebrows, but from the stunned look on his face, Dorian hadn't known about Maxwell and the woman either. Maxwell, always direct, wasn't meeting anyone's eyes and Josephine looked sad. Leliana was watching him back. Wonderful. He clasped his hands behind his back so she wouldn't see the shaking.

Josephine stepped into the center of the small group and took charge. "Be that as it may, our first question is how do we deal with a mage who had been made tranquil? Doesn't that mean she was at one time considered a danger?"

Now that, he could answer. "I've sent a templar with them and he will stand vigil tonight. If she can't control her magic he will take action to make sure she doesn't have access to it...until she can handle it." The last bit garnered an approving nod from Leliana.

Solas stepped forward to add his piece. "I will join her in the fade while she sleeps to see what I can identify in relation to her abilities. If she is a full mage again it will manifest there. I should also be able to protect her so that no demonic being may influence her while she is in this time of risk."

Cullen wasn't comfortable with the idea of an apostate elf being their first line of defense against demonic possession. But the others were nodding in agreement with Solas. He would trust their judgment, difficult though that still was for him sometimes. He was becoming increasingly aware his tolerance of mages was not as balanced as it should be. Perhaps one day it would, but for now there was one piece of this mess that hadn't been addressed.

"Dorian, you will take me to the woman." Dorian opened his mouth to respond and Cullen cut him off.

"Now."

The tension in the horde was near snapping. The Largest of the Mothers Children decided it was time to let it break in the bodies of the humans.

At his unspoken command they moved silently up the stone stairs that were like and unlike the ones of the deep. This had been a dungeon. Now it was a conduit for destruction.

It was time.

Dorian froze in the open doorway to his room. "Is everything alright?" Cullen asked from behind him. Wordlessly the mage stepped into the firelit room, making way for the others to follow him. Cullen stepped in and froze as well a moment before glancing back at Maxwell behind him.

Maxwell paused then moved to the doorway. "You brought her to your quarters? Dorian, that's just..." Dangerous? Scandalous (at least for those who didn't know Dorian's proclivities)? Smart? Here he was deflecting again. He wasn't sure he was ready to face her, but he couldn't justify leaving this to someone else. His eyes followed the others and there she was.

She lay in the bed, huddled in the warm blankets even with the roaring fire. Her face was gentle in sleep and hands curled under her chin like a child's. It made him remember...He pulled his eyes from her face and finally noticed what the other two men had.

The aged wood of the headboard on the bed had sprouted in impossible roses. The green and red almost a crown against the brunette of her hair.

"Red, my favorite." Dorian spoke in a whisper as he moved forward to touch a flower above her sleeping head. "How can this be?" Cullen's voice had also fallen into a nervous whisper.

Maxwell felt like his heart had stopped. How indeed? He moved forward to the other side of the bed and reached to touch her face, stopping just short of her skin. She looked so peaceful. He shouldn't be the one to wake her for questioning. He looked up at Cullen. "Would you?"

He fell silent. The Commander had stiffened, drawing his sword and moving towards the open door. Frowning, Maxwell drew his own sword and followed. He didn't hear anything, but something felt wrong in the silence of the nighttime courtyard.

His neck prickled as Cullen shouted to the watch. "We are attacked!"

At the other edge of the garden below them the sound of shattering wood and running feet followed hard on the Commander's warning. Maxwell ran for the end of the rampart, the adrenaline of pending battle rushed through his blood. The shadows reflecting in the light of the watch torches could only be one thing.

Darkspawn were attacking Skyhold from inside the walls.