A/N: I tried posting this on Thursday, but someone told me they never got the email. I got it, but maybe none of you saw it? So I'm trying re-posting it.
A few changes here. And some tittilating visuals. :D
Chapter 11: Val Royeaux
"So I guess you've never been on a ship?"
Zanneth looked up, bleary-eyed, to see Varric standing nearby, his ever-present half-grin in place. The elf shook her head, immediately regretting it. "No, I have not," she managed around her groan.
Varric chuckled. "Well, it'll be over soon. Then our first stop can be at an inn so you can sleep it off." He turned, looking over the side of the ship, seeming invigorated by the salt spray and chill air.
Zanneth had been sick from the moment she stepped foot on the ship two days before. Now, Val Royeaux was clearly visible. The captain had stated they would be in line to dock in an hour or so. The Dalish elf was counting the seconds until her feet could be on land once more.
The journey to Jader had gone without further incident. She and Cassandra talked at times, though not as candidly as that first time. They shared a tent when the group made camp, and Zanneth found the warrior ever-present at her side, night and day, to be of great comfort. They grew closer through small, quiet words, and when Zanneth began revisiting her meals over the side of the ship, she got both Cassandra's comforting hand at her back and the warrior's teasing in her ears. Something about it, however, was comfortable. They were becoming familiar, and teasing banter naturally followed that familiarity. Varric and Bull, too, teased her, but she knew it was good-natured, and it felt… good.
She had missed having a friend. She never would have expected to find that friend in a human, a qunari, and a dwarf. There was a lot that had happened of late that she never could have predicted.
But for now… she just wanted off this blasted ship.
Three hours later, the Dalish elf finally set foot on dry land.
"Why does the ground feel as though it is moving?" she asked, brows furrowed. It was supposed to stop once she got to solid ground.
"It is the cursed nature of being on the flowing water for so long," Solas answered, his ever-present, slightly smug grin in place.
The Iron Bull gave out a hearty laugh. "Yeah, it feels like it's moving for at least a few hours after you've gotten off the ship. My recommendation: get rip-roaring drunk, and it feels normal."
"If I had to guess, Bull, I'd say Zanneth here has never touched alcohol in her life," Varric chimed in, smirking.
"Leave her alone and let us get moving," Cassandra announced, shouldering her pack and moving past them all. "I do not like the stench of the docks. Let us find lodgings with a place to bathe."
"What, you don't want to go see the clerics when you haven't bathed for a week?" Varric said, winking over at Zanneth. Despite her discomfort, the elf chuckled to herself.
"Hey, aren't you part of the Chantry, Seeker?" Bull asked, slinging his own pack over his shoulder. "Why do we have to stay in a tavern? Not that I'm complaining. Tavern wenches are hard to come by in the Chantry. And I'm probably not really welcome in a Chantry building…"
"That is precisely why we cannot," Cassandra answered, striding ahead. "The Chantry has not yet officially…"
She trailed off as she stopped in front of a message board in the common area outside the docks. She stood for a moment reading, her expression growing darker and darker. "Shit," she murmured.
"Uh oh. The Seeker is swearing. What's it say, Cassandra?" Varric asked.
"I was about to say that the Chantry has not officially declared us heretics, but this missive essentially does just that. Any member of the Inquisition is in direct opposition to the Chantry." She huffed angrily, reaching up and tearing the announcement down before folding it up and stuffing it inside her tabard. "We have to work harder now," she said, continuing her walk once more.
As they walked, Zanneth became quieter and quieter, taking in her surroundings. All around her, reflective stone of white and rose, green and black, rose up. People, human and elf alike, hurried around them. The streets were swept clean, and many carriages rushed past the group. At one point, one of the carriages stopped nearby, and out spilled a human in a mask, drapery hanging from the person's frame as a feminine giggle left the form. A masked gentleman followed, his clothes adorned in unnecessary frills and drapery, as well, though not so bad as the woman.
Cassandra made a disgusted noise before Zanneth could remark on the spectacle at all. "Orlesian nobles," she said with a sneer, stepping around the carriage with a shake of her head. "Visiting a brothel while here to pay lip service to the Chantry."
Bull perked up at that. "That's a brothel? Good to know."
"You will not visit a brothel while we are here," Cassandra said, whipping around to face the giant qunari. "You can slake your lusts in Haven or at the tavern tonight, but you will not be spending Inquisition gold at the brothel while we are here to speak with the Chantry clerics." Her dark eye bored holes up at him.
Bull just stared down at her for a moment.
"I don't know, Bull. That sounds like a challenge," Varric said, pulling both their gazes - growing more and more defiant each - to himself. "Sounds like the Seeker doesn't think you can hunt successfully without coin."
The Iron Bull chuckled. "Right." Looking back to Cassandra, he smirked. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll have just as much fun outside the whorehouse."
"Ugh," Cassandra said, blowing out her breath before turning back around and stomping off again. Zanneth merely stared after her with wide eyes for a moment before hurrying to keep up.
Cassandra plunged the sponge into the water before applying it to her skin.
"Oh, I've missed this," she murmured to herself, luxuriating in the warm water running over her shoulders and back. It had been months since she had taken a real bath. Months of travel on the road, of bathing in streams and rivers, of sponge baths during her short time in Haven. There was a public bath house in the village, but it had sat empty and been left unmaintained for years, and had not yet been restored by the time of the explosion at the Conclave. It was most definitely not at the top of the list of things that needed to be done.
She sat in a basin of hot water, the inn having a room in which patrons could bathe, and she was luckily the first, so the water was fresh and clear. The Seeker had truly been through with her bath for several minutes now, but the feeling of the hot water on her skin was one of the only luxuries she ever allowed herself, and as it had been so long since she had partaken, she allowed herself the extra few minutes of comfort. She pulled the sponge across her shoulders again, moving it around and letting the water cascade over her chest into the water waiting below. She closed her eyes, sighing in contentment.
The door creaked open, startling the Seeker's eyes open. She was not expecting anyone to simply barge in. The few travelers in the inn would know the etiquette of a shut door. That meant that either she had an attacker, or…
"I'm sorry, I did not mean to disturb you," Zanneth said, eyes large. "I'll leave and come back later."
"No," Cassandra announced, wringing out the sponge so it could be used by another. "It is fine. I was finished anyway." Setting the sponge aside as Zanneth closed the door behind her, Cassandra stood in the large basin. She was almost sad to leave the water, but she could not very well stay in the bath as Zanneth bathed.
What an absurd idea.
"That is a nasty scar," Zanneth remarked. Cassandra followed the elf's eyes to her right inner thigh, where a long, silver streak marred her otherwise dusky skin. It was not the only scar Cassandra had on her legs. Indeed, her entire body was dotted with the evidence of battles won and pain endured. But this was the largest scar, and it had one of the best stories. It also stood as testimony to the first time she let a man touch her with any tenderness.
"Yes, I suppose it is," Cassandra said. She reached out, taking a towel from the stack nearby and wrapping herself in it before stepping out of the tub. Moving away, she sat upon the bench in the corner to dry off while Zanneth disrobed.
"Is there a story behind it?" the elf asked, unlacing the collar of her tunic before lifting it over her head. Cassandra's eyes were drawn to pale skin, wiry muscle stretched out under it. The elf's body was ever that of a hunter, small and lean, yet the Seeker was sure that, once she had recovered all her lost weight, the elf could carry a felled stag for short bursts at a time all the way back to her clan's camp.
Cassandra wasn't surprised by the elf's type of body. What did surprise her, however, was that the vallaslin, the tattoos upon her face that was a trait of all Dalish who had reached their majority, continued elsewhere on her body. The same sprawling, crawling lines, reminiscent of the meandering roots of a mighty tree, spilled over the caps of the elf's shoulders and onto her chest, wrapping around her upper arms and stopping at the tops of her breasts.
Meeting Zanneth's eyes as the elf shed the rest of her clothes, Cassandra nodded. "Yes, there is, though I rarely tell it." She was almost disappointed to find that the elf, as she exposed her pale-skinned legs, bore no more vallaslin. It was entrancing, though the Seeker forced herself to meet the elf's dark brown eyes rather than continuing to take in the beautiful artistry before her.
"You don't need to," Zanneth said quickly, stepping into the warm water Cassandra had just abandoned. "I don't mean to pry."
"Please, it is fine, Zanneth," Cassandra said, waving her hand in dismissal. "You already know of my family. I… enjoy speaking with you. You… are not the only one who lost someone she loves in the explosion. I…" It was difficult to even say. But Zanneth had shared with her. She wanted to show that she could be trusted. And Cassandra had not said anything of Galyan's death to anyone. Leliana knew, of course, and had expressed her condolences, but that was it. No one else living knew she had ever in her life taken a lover.
"I have been with only one person in my life," she began, looking away as Zanneth began to wash the road dust and general grime away from her skin. Such delicate-looking skin. So pale, especially with all that dark red juxtaposed against it. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "He was a man with whom I adventured in my youth. He was a mage ever loyal to the Circle and the Chantry, and he helped me uncover a plot to kill Divine Beatrix, the previous Divine. I was awarded for my role in saving her life by becoming the Divine's Right Hand. He and his comrades were rewarded with the Divine's thanks and then shuttled off back to the Circle, out of the public's eye. He and I grew close, however. And this scar was the start of that closeness."
"How so?" the elf asked, seemingly unperturbed by the revelation of the Seeker having taken a lover. Right. She is Dalish. She has no idea how scandalous it would be for me, Nevarran royalty, to be so open about taking a lover. Even more scandalous for him to have been a mage, as I am a Seeker.
Cassandra smiled sadly. "He was useless when it came to combat. That was my job. But I was injured, and it was some time before I would allow him to aid me, even with a healing hand. I… did not yet truly understand that mages are people with an exceptional gift, one that places them in danger, but which is not inherently evil. So his magic… it looked no different to me from the magic used to kill my brother, to torture him and tear him apart before my eyes. I had also never experienced the caring touch of another, and the placement of the wound was… intimate, as you saw. But finally the pain and my inability to fight made it necessary, and I relented."
"It scarred because you left it too long?"
"Yes, that is how he explained it," Cassandra said with a nod, her mind drifting away to another time and place.
Regalyan had always waited with bated breath when they managed to meet, eyes roving over her, stopping when they met this scar. He would kneel and place his lips upon it, his beard tickling her sensitive skin. It always made her laugh and grip his hair and pull him up for a kiss.
It had been years since such an occurrence, however. It became harder and harder to meet with any privacy, and in the meantime they were both left bereft of the other. Letting him go was so difficult, but… it was not fair to expect him to wait for their infrequent trysts and have no affection, no confidante, in the meantime. He was reluctant to accept their split, but in the end he found what he needed, and she was free to perform her duty.
And then he had died, right along with the woman who dictated Cassandra's duty. So much for all her care of the feelings of others.
"Was he at the Conclave? It was a gathering of your mages and templars, yes?"
Cassandra's head snapped back to Zanneth to find the elf no longer bathing, merely sitting in the tub, eyes on the Seeker. "Yes. He died at the Conclave, along with everyone else. Everyone but you." She said the last as she ran a hand through her drying hair, an eternal sign of frustration for the warrior. "It was many years since we were together, since I have even seen him, but still it is a loss I feel, if somewhat distantly. We have all been in mourning these weeks. No one has stopped to consider how shocking, how overwhelming all of this might be to you, or what you might have lost in all of this. I am afraid we are all fallible, selfish people when it comes down to it. For that, I apologize."
Zanneth smiled, a small thing that did not necessarily communicate joy, but nonetheless Cassandra was stunned. It was the first time she had ever seen such an expression on the normally-solemn hunter's face. "Trust me, I understand being absorbed in your sorrow. It took you drawing my pain from me in order for me to see that I have been every bit as self-absorbed as you describe. This has been… I cannot rightly describe it. It is outside everything I have known. But… there I go, making it about myself once more."
She paused, eyes softening into an expression of true care. "Cassandra. I am sorry for your losses. So many losses. This chaos, this conflict… it takes so much from so many. From what I have gathered, the Divine was trying to make the two sides talk, to find a solution. That is an admirable goal to continue pursuing, Cassandra. Honestly, I am… impressed. I admire that you would continue to seek a solution, instead of sinking into your sorrow. I… hope I can live up to that example."
"You… admire me?"
The elf simply nodded. She then stood, pale skin glistening in the candle light. Cassandra had to rip her eyes away before she could be accused of indecent staring. Why were her eyes drawn to the elf's skin? Perhaps she was just exotic to the Seeker, her pale skin, the tattoos adorning her flesh. The elf was certainly completely unabashed in her nudity. It made Cassandra wonder just what Dalish culture might be like in regards to such things? Was there no room for modesty in the forest, just as there was no room for modesty in the barracks?
They returned to the room they would be sharing after washing their travel clothing. Then, they headed down to the common room for another meal, at the elf's request. Now she was not sick on a ship, it seemed the young woman was famished. Cassandra could not blame her. Truly, the Seeker was pleased to see the elf eating so heartily again, after two days of seasickness so close on the heels of her illness in Haven.
Cassandra did not eat, however. She could not do anything but think on the next day. For, on the morrow, they would be visiting the Grand Cathedral.
There was a crowd around the steps of the Grand Cathedral when Zanneth and Cassandra approached. Solas, Bull, and Varric had all stayed behind – as non-humans, they all agreed they might hurt the other two's chances of an audience with the surviving clerics of the Chantry.
Zanneth chafed in her clothes, unused to such stiff material. She had spent her life wearing leather, furs, and, during the hottest months, a rough homespun made by the clan's two weavers. She now stood, however, in linen, soft yet stiff and unfamiliar, and a stiff leather vest under a tabard with the symbol of the Inquisition emblazoned on her front. Cassandra wore an outfit to match. Zanneth could not deny that they cut fine figures in the military-inspired outfits they wore, made expertly and quickly by the Lady Revka before they left Haven. Now that the elf saw the finery of those around them in this city, she also could not deny that arriving here in their travel clothing would have made them stick out far too much.
"Good people of Val Royeaux! Hear me!"
"She speaks in the common tongue," Cassandra whispered, peering through the crowd to the gathered clerics on the cathedral's steps. "I sent word that we had arrived yesterday. They are expecting us. They are speaking in the only tongue you speak." Cassandra's cinnamon eyes found Zanneth's. "Her words are for you, Zanneth."
The so-called Herald nodded her understanding. She was unfamiliar with politics. Her people could not afford such strange maneuverings. To Zanneth it seemed fake – how could decisions be made based on rumors and grandstanding gestures, on empty words and shrouded favors? But she agreed that this was not her world, so she merely tried to not look like she had while walking through the city – namely, gawking – an instead focused her gaze forward.
"Together we mourn our Divine." The cleric's accent was strange to Zanneth's ears. She had never truly heard its like. Hints of it could be heard in Cassandra's voice, as well as the deaf spymaster's. But this was thick, originating in the back of the cleric's throat. It honestly sounded uncomfortable to Zanneth.
"Her naïve and beautiful heart was silenced by treachery!"
"This is going somewhere. Where are you going with this, you insipid, vapid little girl?" Cassandra hissed, eyes intent upon the cleric speaking. "I swear that woman is younger than Revka."
"You wonder what will become of her murderer?" the cleric asked, arms out and up, looking around at the crowd. "Well, wonder no more! Behold! The so-called 'Herald of Andraste'!" she shouted with a flourish, pointing toward Cassandra and Zanneth. The crowd immediately parted to reveal the two of them, an almost-comical gasp rising as one from the gathered crowd. "Claiming to rise where our beloved Most Holy fell! We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send us no elf in our hour of need!"
Contempt surrounded her. But one voice stood out to Zanneth's sensitive ears. Eyes darting, the huntress spotted a glint of gold hair, and then she saw someone half-hidden behind a pillar at the edge of the square.
"Piss-pot," the voice said. Zanneth was sure it came from the figure in the distance. The figure moved, and Zanneth discovered it was an elven woman. Interesting…
Meanwhile, Cassandra, ever-stoic, unwilling to back down, was speaking. "Divine Justinia would not have wanted this! I was her Right Hand! She would have wanted compassion! She would have wanted peace! She would not have wished us even more divided than before!"
"And look where it got her!" the cleric shouted, no longer keeping up the farce of addressing the crowd at large, her contemptuous eyes narrowed at Cassandra.
Zanneth cut in before Cassandra could answer. The politics were unimportant, and Cassandra was being pulled in to them by answering the accusation about Divine Justinia. "You claim I am your enemy!" Zanneth shouted. "The Breach in the sky is the true enemy! We must unite in order to stop it, to close it!"
Cassandra gasped next to her, but picked up where the elf left off without much pause. "It's true! The Inquisition seeks to close the Breach, to end this madness before it's too late! We seek nothing from or against the Chantry!"
"It is already too late!" the cleric declared, and she turned, moving back to reveal the great, arching doorways into the cathedral. Out poured a company of armored men and women, a flaming sword embossed on their chest plates, led by a man in a tabard exquisitely embroidered with a sigil not unlike the symbol Cassandra bore when they were in Haven.
Cassandra hissed in her breath. "That… is Lord Seeker Lucius!"
"The templars have returned to the Chantry!" the cleric announced, her surety in her victory clear upon her face. "They will face this 'Inquisition,' and the people will be safe once more!"
What happened next wiped the look clear off her face, but Zanneth pitied her for it, no matter how satisfying it was to see that expression disappear. The man leading the group of soldiers reared back as he passed the cleric, bringing his fist forward and hitting her upside the back of her head. She cried out, hitting the ground, and then his boot was buried in her gut.
The crowd gasped as one again, backing away from the steps. All except Cassandra and Zanneth, who continued standing where they had come to a stop before. Zanneth knew that, when faced with a bear, one did not run, or one would be overrun.
"Still yourself!" the leader shouted to his soldiers, as well as the crowd. "She is beneath us!"
"So he's not here for us, then?" Zanneth asked quietly, for Cassandra's ears only.
"These… these are the rest of the templars from the White Spire," Cassandra explained, eyes darting from face to face. "Lord Seeker Lucius leads them in open defiance of the Chantry… literally out of the Chantry's doors."
The man turned, disdainful eyes fixing on Zanneth. "Her claim to authority is an insult. Much like your own."
"Lord Seeker Luc-"
"You will not address me," the man said, taking the steps down to the square, his disdain now fixed on Cassandra. "You left. And created a heretical movement. You raised up this elven puppet as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed."
"We are not here for your precious Chantry!" Zanneth shouted, getting his attention. "We need to seal the Breach! We came to speak with what leaders were left of the Chantry, but I do not claim to be your prophet's Chosen!"
She was so tired of this misconception.
"Oh, the Breach is indeed a threat," the Lord Seeker growled, eyes narrowed upon Zanneth. "But you certainly have no power to do anything about it." Zanneth began to raise her hand, to show them the mark upon it, but Cassandra caught her wrist, and Zanneth saw the slightest of headshakes from the warrior. She put her hand back at her side. "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the Void! We deserve recognition, independence! We will crush the beastly mages, and we will protect the world against the Breach!"
Looking to his men and women in arms, he shouted, "Templars! This steaming, festering pile of a city is unworthy of our protection! We march!"
The templars followed him out of the main square of the Grand Cathedral, the crowd dispersing quickly after they left. Zanneth and Cassandra stayed, watching the templars and the people abandon the Chantry.
"He has gone mad," Cassandra said, shaking her head.
"What… just happened?" Zanneth asked.
"The templars did our work for us." Cassandra's voice was full of utter contempt. "By striking the cleric, Lord Seeker Lucius has publicly humiliated the Chantry. Their word… will have no more meaning, not until order is reestablished and a new Divine selected."
Zanneth's eyes landed on the woman curled on the ground, several other clerics fussing nearby. "Isn't that what we wanted?"
"Yes, but I would never resort to violence against the clergy to get it!" Cassandra spat.
Zanneth stared wide-eyed. The Seeker's chest heaved, and she wore such a look of disgust on her regal features that it actually managed to make her look ugly for a moment. It was fleeting, however. Cassandra shook her head, took a deep breath, and it was gone, replaced by her much more customary look of impatience.
"Come. We should discuss this with the others, and we should leave the city."
"Should… should we talk to them? Maybe help her?"
Cassandra got a shrewd look. Raising her voice, she shouted, "Can we help you? We have a healer with us at the inn."
"To the Void with you, heathen!" one of them shouted back.
Cassandra raised a brow down at Zanneth.
"Why?" the elf asked, furrowing her brows. "Why would they refuse?"
Cassandra smiled slightly, huffing out a laugh. "They have been publicly humiliated, Zanneth. But still they cling to their pride. They cannot go back on their word that we are heretics. Accepting our help would be just that. They will stick by their word, directly into the grave… until the Inquisition has enough influence and proves itself. Then they will come walking imperiously to our door and demand to be included, and possibly even try to command our movements." The human rolled her eyes. "Be thankful the Dalish do not have politics. It is the most cumbersome of layers of society."
The human turned, clearly ready to leave. "Come. We should inform the others. We might even be able to leave today, if we are fast enough."
"Hold on just a moment," Zanneth said, remembering the figure she'd seen at the edge of the square. "Stay here." Moving purposefully, Zanneth disappeared into the shadow of a pillar, moving from shadow to shadow searching for the blonde elven woman she'd seen. This is not unlike moving in the forest, she thought to herself as she walked.
"Wondered when you'd get your arse over here," a nasal voice said. It was most assuredly not Orlesian. It sounded much like the accents of the various servants Zanneth had heard around Haven. "You puckered Dalish always take your time?"
Zanneth blinked a few times, taking in the elven woman who had stepped out of the shadows in front of her. She was of a height with Zanneth, with uneven blonde hair that didn't go past her chin, somewhat tattered tunic and trousers - and armed to the teeth. She had a bow of plain but sturdy make, a quiver full of arrows, and several daggers at her hip. Her ears were small, but still the tips parted her hair, peeking through quite obviously. She stood with her arms crossed, her hip cocked, and her eyes narrowed. Zanneth couldn't help but notice that the woman's face was dusted with freckles – and it bore no vallaslin.
This woman was a flat-ear.
"I… don't know what you mean," Zanneth finally said, her voice soft in the shadows.
"I saw you see me, yeah? Your ears perked up like a dog's an' everythin'. Figured you'd come to me, but you sure took your sweet time doin' it." The blonde woman looked Zanneth up and down, her eyes coming to rest on her left hand. Zanneth's eyes followed, and she saw that her palm had its ever-present glow, quite noticeable here in the shadows. "So it's true? You're the Herald thingy?"
"The Herald… thingy?"
"Y'know, you glow green, just like the rip in the sky. They say you can close it. That true? The Inquisition thingy can do somethin'? Normalize this mess, yeah?"
"I… hope, though I don't have enough power on my own… I'm sorry, who are you?"
The elf girl smiled. "Oh, right, yeah. I'm Sera. I want to join your Inquisition thingy."
Zanneth narrowed her eyes. "You want to join?"
"Yeah! An' I have a whole network of Red Jenny friends who'd be workin' for you, too!"
"Who's Red Jenny?"
"Me! Well, I'm one. There's one in Montfort, some woman in Kirkwall. There were three in Starkhaven. Brothers or somethin'."
"But… you just said your name is Sera…"
The blonde elf sighed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, I'm Sera. But, accordin' to Friends of Red Jenny, I'm Red Jenny."
"And the Friends of Red Jenny are…?"
"People!" The other elf's tone was exasperated.
"I don't follow," Zanneth finally said. "You're Sera, but also Red Jenny, and you have friends?"
"Yeah! See? Simple, innit? Wait… you never heard of us? Guess it makes sense; you been runnin' around the forest your whole life. Tell you what. Lemme follow to your hideaway an' I'll tell all when we get there, yeah? I believe in Andraste; never liked the Grand Cathedral, though. Too… well… grand!" She paused, eyeing Zanneth for a moment before murmuring, "Didn't expect you to be pretty. Hope you're not too elfy."
Zanneth immediately blushed. "I, erm… I'll introduce you to Cassandra," she stammered, turning and hurrying out of the shadows of the pillars.
"Who is this?" Cassandra asked almost immediately.
"She… wants to join the Inquisition," Zanneth said, turning and eyeing the other elf's smile. "She… said she would explain who she is once we get to the tavern?"
Making a disgusted sound, Cassandra turned. "Fine. Let's get moving. I never liked it out here. This is the face we show the people. It is disgusting. We should be feeding the hungry, not covering our holdings in marble and gold."
"Oh, I'm gonna like you!" the blonde elf announced, skipping after Cassandra with a wink at Zanneth. The Dalish elf merely stared after them for a moment, utterly perplexed, before hurrying to catch them up.