Kathyra

The words on the parchment began to blur together. My hand cramped from holding the quill since sunrise, and I could not remember if I had eaten. I was no stranger to throwing myself into my work to distract my mind, but I could not deny that, this time, it was not working. There had been perhaps one or two patients in the clinic since Leliana's departure, one with an easily treated ailment, the other with a simple wound that required nothing more than cleansing and stitching. I had attempted walking the city streets, but that did nothing but remind me of the horrific mess that was Kirkwall under Meredith's reign.

No amount of work, no amount of distraction could keep my mind from focusing back on my worry for the woman I loved. I could not stop the sense that something in Ostwick, or on the journey to or from there, had gone terribly wrong. Now, the sun was setting. The ship Cassandra had chartered, if everything went as predicted, should return on the morrow. I prayed that it would. I prayed with everything that I had within me.

The door of the clinic swung open and I turned, grateful for yet another distraction. I knew the silhouetted figure all too well, but something was wrong. The proud shoulders were slumped, the bright eyes were dull, and her hair shielded her face as she stumbled in and dropped her pack on the ground, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She slid down to the floor, propped her elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands.

"Rylie?" I rose from my seat, pushing the chair aside and walking to the young templar who looked to be the very image of despair. I knelt down beside her. "Rylie, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Everything." she murmured, her brogue low and rough. "Everything about this damned city. I've been mandated to have three days leave…time to think and get my head together. Thank the Maker it was Captain Cullen and not Meredith who…" she trailed off and her shoulders heaved a sigh of despair.

"Rylie." I pushed her hair back from her face and saw a woman who had aged from the young, raw templar private I had met on board a ship sailing for doom. There were circles under her eyes so dark they looked like bruising. Even with the muscle added to her frame, she appeared almost gaunt, and in the light of the candles I could see threads of grey in the chestnut curls. "You look awful."

Wide, obsidian eyes lit on mine and a look of incredulity spread across her face. After a moment, her chapped lips spread into a smile and she began laughing…the laugh of delirium and exhaustion that I knew all too well. However, her laughter had always been infectious, and soon I cracked beneath the sound and joined her in the laugh I desperately needed.

The laughter diminished, the emotion faded, and both of us heaved a sigh of mutual exhaustion. I got to my feet and held out my hand. Rylie took it and I helped her to her feet. She winced and her free arm wrapped around her abdomen in a way that worried me. I stepped closer and cupped her face with my hands, searching her eyes.

"Rylie, are you all right? Are you in pain?"

"Kathyra, I'm not hurt." Rylie answered, doing very little to assuage my concern. She truly did look to be on the verge of collapse. "But I…I cannot remember the last time I've eaten, or…or slept or…" she shivered, "…had anything to drink."

It is no wonder that she looks half dead on her feet, I thought, moving to help support more of her weight.

I guided her to the table in front of the roaring fire and helped her sit down. I poured her a cup of water and filled a bowl with the stew that hung in a pot over the flames. She drained the water and held the cup out to me in a mute plea for more. I took it, refilled it and sat back down, holding the cup away until Rylie's attention fell on me once more.

"I need to know what happened." I spoke, and the templar sergeant nodded, though her raven eyes filled with a haunted light.

She took the water from my hand and set it on the table, her lower lip trembling as she contemplated where to begin.

"The Gallows is a fucking nightmare." she hissed, her eyes sparking with anger. "It's no wonder that they named it for a place of execution. Most of the templars there, Kathyra, they're…they're Maker-damned predators. Seven days ago, one of them cornered Felicity…a thirteen year old mage, who is quite lovely, meek, soft-spoken, but...you can imagine he had no desire to carry on a conversation about the weather."

Below the table, my hands curled into fists of rage that I could not turn to anything productive. There were no shortage of horror stories from the Gallows, but these sorts were by far the worst. I almost did not wish to know the ending of this one…not if it had Rylie looking as though she were ready to fall to pieces.

"Kestrel and Bethany Hawke intervened." Riley continued her tale. "Felicity managed to escape but…but you can imagine that a templar being stopped from having his fun by a mage wearing the apostate's mark would simply walk away and do nothing?"

"No." I felt blood drain from my face as I worried for the woman in the most precarious position of all of us in this damnable city. "Rylie, what happened? Is Kestrel all right?"

"I don't know." her words were stained with grief and concern. "I heard all the screaming too late. By the time I got there, Captain Cullen had taken charge of the situation. I tried to shove my way through the crowd, but I didn't get there in time. There was blood spatter on the floor; Cullen was protecting Bethany from the templar's friends, while the would-be rapist himself huddled in the damn corner clutching his manhood and screaming all manner of epithets. He was sitting in a pool of his own blood."

"Serves him right." I muttered, even though a cold fear settled in the pit of my stomach.

"The templars order the mages to heal their wounds." Rylie offered a sorrowful smile. "I am fairly certain that waste of breath will never act as a man again."

"That aside," I attempted to focus. "What happened to Kestrel?"

"She and Bethany were placed in solitary confinement." Rylie breathed. "Complete isolation, one meal a day, and…and…" Rylie's voice became anguished and her eyes were filled with sheer terror, "…and if she's hurt, Kathyra, she…she won't receive healing attention until she's released. It has been seven days...you know Kestrel, Kathyra. She's...she is..."

"Always so very thin." I said, feeling terror's icy claws sink deep into my gut. Leliana compared Kestrel to a Grey Warden, for her appetite was expansive but she never seemed to gain any weight. Limiting her to one meal a day could be disastrous to her health. "When will she be released?"

Rylie shrugged her shoulders, distraught. "I don't know." her voice held tears. "She castrated a templar, Kathyra!" she pushed back her chair, rose to her feet, and began pacing the room. "I'm quite certain that she does not know, but if Meredith finds out, Kes will be flogged in the middle of the Gallows, or maybe even executed! Bethany has Micah Hawke's protection, but…but Kestrel has nothing! Today, I asked…" her voice cracked, "…I asked Cullen when she would be released; if she was all right, and he would tell me nothing. I became angry and…and before I said anything further he ordered me to take three days furlough. Kathyra, my lover might be hurt, might be starving, might be…might be dying."

"Rylie." I placed my hands on her shoulders, stopping the frenetic pacing. "Can you not go to where she is; see how she is doing?"

The young woman shook her head, sending chestnut curls swaying to and fro. "No one under the rank of lieutenant is allowed into the solitary confinement area of the Gallows." she informed me. "And there are several sadistic lieutenants who take full advantage of the privilege of being allowed there."

"Why has this not been stopped?" I breathed, wondering when the Maker would grant us a moment of peace. "Surely Justinia knows that Meredith is nothing short of mad."

"I do not know any longer." Rylie muttered, a woman broken looking to me. "She must know but…but perhaps she does not care. Perhaps, like the majority of the blighted population, has absolutely no concern whatsoever for the fate of any mage. Or, perhaps, she's letting Meredith maim and torture innocent men and women as some move in the damnable Game you and Leliana are always referencing!"

"Rylie!" I shouted her name, attempting to bring her down from her anger, but the sorrow and anguish in her eyes ignited the feelings of worry anew for the woman that I loved. "Rylie, I know. Leliana has been away these last four days, and I know that some ill has befallen her or Cassandra. I understand your worry and I feel your pain. In this, we are sisters."

The pacing stopped and she turned to me, her lips trembling, her cheeks pale, her eyes screaming with torment that a woman in the prime of her youth should not yet know. "Kathyra, I am…I am so frightened. There is nothing that I can do to help her, nothing that I can say to plead her case, should it go before Meredith. It is driving me mad and I am...I am so afraid of losing her. I would rather be in the Gallows now, at least close enough to her to overhear whatever might be said but instead…instead I have been ordered to leave and I…"

"I know." I reiterated. "I know." I hugged her close to me and held her tight, granting her a safe place to vent her anger and release her grief.

After a moment, the rigidity of her body faded and she sagged into my embrace. I felt the heat of her tears soaking into my shirt and watched her shoulders heave and shudder with her weeping. I knew what it felt like to be powerless while someone that I adored hurt and suffered. I knew with intimacy what it felt like to be powerless while the one who held my heart was murdered before my very eyes.

"I am…I am so frightened, Kathyra." Rylie confessed. "I am so frightened, and I do not know what to do."

"I understand." I assured her, soothing my hand up and down her back. "What you are going to do is eat. I will prepare a bath for you, and then you will bathe. After that, you will rest, Rylie Camerloch. Needless worry will accomplish nothing, and solitary confinement can be brutal on the soul and psyche. When Kestrel is released, she will need you in a way that she never has before. Will you do this for me? For Kestrel?"

Rylie pulled away, wiped tears from her face with her sleeve, and nodded, slow. The poor thing looked beyond exhaustion, and I felt certain that I would end the night carrying her from the bath to the bed. If it meant that she would get the rest her body so desperately needed, I would be glad to do so. I guided Rylie back to the table and to the bowl of stew, which she began to eat. I removed the stew from over the fire and put another cauldron over it, filling it with water in preparation for Rylie's bath. All the while, I prayed.

Maker above, your daughters are suffering. I ask that you keep your watchful eye upon them and give them the strength to endure whatever adversity they face. Keep Leliana and Kestrel beneath your watchful eyes and please, have mercy upon them...have mercy upon Rylie's and my soul as well, and give us strength for whatever adversity might lie ahead. I beg of you.