The Gallows was never exactly quiet, but, at this dark hour, Cassandra heard little traffic resonating off the deserted, cobbled streets around the Tower. A single Templar stood guard beyond the dominating shadow of the single gate that opened into the Tower itself. Only City Guard patrols kept watch this hour, and those were with her.
Cassandra's footsteps rang in the chill morning air as she walked solemnly up to the gate protecting the Templars. With the lone patrol's eyes firmly on her, she climbed up the uneven stone of the wall beside the gate and affixed the red flag to the spiked tip of a sturdy, metal bar. The guard only watched her quizzically, wondering at the sight. She couldn't blame him. It did seem an odd thing to do, especially when she had no way of predicting the outcome.
It was at that very moment a small cart loaded down with vegetables made it's way slowly through the square pulled by a hunched figure in a dark cloak and a young boy complaining the whole way.
"Aral isn't going to be happy about this one bit. No, he will not. It's ridiculous. Can't accept delivery, Sweet Andraste! Whoever heard such nonsense?"
Cassandra retreated slowly to her place beside Marcus where he leaned on a column as though only bored and waiting for something to amuse, which wasn't far off honestly. She was incredibly interested in how this would play out because, of course, these must be the Jennies.
"You there." The boy shouted to the guard as though he were a lord speaking to a servant. "The tower kitchens say no new deliveries, but your master ordered these fresh just yesterday for his company." The boy made a face meant to mock the habits of the rich in a most comical way. Cassandra heard Marcus chuff a laugh beside her. "Fetch me the quartermaster. I have places to be, Ser," the boy finished with a flourish.
Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Somehow this boy could make a term of respect like ser sound insulting. The guard reacted by turning red in the face. "Now, you see here, boy! I don't jump for you. Do your business with the kitchens or be gone."
This didn't seem to appease the young ruffian for he grabbed up a particularly large vegetable-Cassandra couldn't make it out in the dim light- and he threw the thing for all he was worth at the Templar where it hit with remarkable precision and a loud squelch. Predictably, the angry soldier began to tear through the gate in order to school the boy on his manners.
At that second, the cloak flew off the hunched man who was clearly a mage, and the guard was frozen where he stood on the wrong side of an open Tower gate. Cassandra glanced up at Marcus. "All doors will open to you."
"Indeed," he replied drawing his blade.
With a whistle, City Guard began to pour out of buildings and walkways and into the tower. Cassandra followed them in no hurry as they swarmed the door which was being battered open by the Guard. Once the massive doors splintered, she pulled her own sword and incanted the blessing she routinely put on their blades. Blue light surrounded them both.
"Shall we then?" Marcus asked her with a small smile.
"Indeed." Her smirk was the only indication that something had changed between the two of them in the night. It was always this way with them. Battle was an adventure, a dance they performed, and together they performed it better than they would alone.
The Tower plaza beyond rang with the sounds of battle, yet the sounds were somewhat unexpected. The number of Templars was relatively small, smaller than reported. Instead, she found herself facing off with a couple of elves in rogues gear.
She and Marcus fought them off quickly and continued toward the Magi quarters. They'd discussed strategy and decided to release the captive mages first in hopes they could aid the attack in some way, although it was unlikely any were in a condition to fight if what she'd seen was any indication.
The bricked hallway wasn't narrow, but it was a tight space for fighting. She and Marcus hurried to reach the larger connecting hallway where they'd be less hemmed in. Two Elven assassins appeared from the other direction to engage. As their blades clashed, Cassandra saw the amulet on her opponent's neck. With a roar, she shoved her blade deep into the elf before her and whispered. "Where is he?"
The Elf laughed as he died.
"Andraste guide me to him," she prayed as she studied both directions of the corridor. Marcus had gutted his opponent and looked her way barely breathing hard but with unasked questions in his eyes.
"Solas is here. These are his."
"The Wolf is here?"
She merely nodded. "These two came from that way." She gestured down the left hall with her bloodied blade.
"Then, there is likely more that way. After you, Milady."
Cassandra turned for the chamber, yet despite his words, Marcus beat her to the end of the corridor where a massive doorway stood closed. "Barred," he confirmed after trying it.
Cassandra pulled back and drew on the power of her faith resulting in more of that ethereal glow that was her constant companion on the battlefield. With a shout, she kicked the door in and watched it splinter with a satisfied sigh. Behind it was several Templars and a mage. She went for the mage first. He was the biggest threat.
Blood pooled on the ground at her feet even as Marcus finished off the last Templar in the room. They were both gasping for air by this time. It had been hard-won respite so she bent forward to catch her breath, taking advantage of the moment.
"Which way?" There were two doors leading out, right and left.
Marcus eyed them both. "Within. Inner doors are more likely to lead to command, I would imagine."
Pushing herself to stand straight, she said, "Very well." This door opened with only a push and had no enemies behind it; only a desk, chairs, and another door.
Cassandra felt that tingle in her toes that came with revelation. It was as if she could feel the enemy as she approached. He was behind that door. She kicked this one in just because it made her feel better.
It was a good choice. There had been a Templar behind it clearly standing watch and she watched with a smile as he flew across the small room and flailed, one arm falling into the fire. Shouting, the burning guard ran toward her and she simply stepped sideways and kicked him further into the hall where Marcus waited to finish him.
The room was close, heavily scented with the scents of ancient things: A study by the looks of it with tomes lining the walls. An elf stood near the window. As he turned toward her, Cassandra recognized something in the turn of his head, some small gesture that told her she'd seen this man before, fought at his side.
"Solas the betrayer."
His expression never changed, but he inclined his head. "That name assumes that my loyalties were always with yours, Lady Seeker, when in fact it was only our interests that became conjoined, and that only for a time."
"My mistake, Dread Wolf. What is your purpose here?"
He turned fully to face her and picked up one of the tomes. "The circles were great collectors of artifacts both old and new."
"I was not aware," she said in waspish tones. "I will assume you want something to drop the veil then."
"Yes," he admitted. "Quite desperately in fact."
She watched him as he walked over to the wall with the book tucked under his arm. Cassandra would bet he already had what he needed. "Why desperately?"
Moving slowly forward, she held her sword unobtrusively at the ready. He met her gaze, seeming more like the Solas she had known for years than even seconds before. He gave a sad half-smile. "There are some things in this world I am loathe to destroy, Lady Cassandra. Surely you can believe at least that much good of me."
"Eliana," she said. Marcus entered the doorway behind her but held his position, awaiting some sign as she engaged Solas, waiting for her own moment. She would do her best to get him to talk before trying to end this here and now. It wasn't likely she would live through a confrontation given what the Inquisitor had said of Solas' powers.
"Eliana." He whispered the Inquisitor's name like a prayer to an ancient god. Were his loyalties more torn than he admitted?
"You expect me to believe you to be unwilling to kill one elven woman in the face of so much death?"
Pain scored his expression. "I agree it sounds far-fetched, even to myself. In the face of … changes I've endured recently, I find myself unwilling to hurt her further. It was never my intention to be unjust in my dealings with her."
"You were the author of the whole," Cassandra said loudly. "You could never be anything but unjust to her. To have made her love you was a trifling part of it all, wouldn't you say, Solas? You are the reason her world was dying."
He took exception there. "No, not dying, changing."
"Changing to make room for those who would destroy us. Not much of a difference no matter what lies you tell yourself."
"Perhaps," he said softly hanging his head. He wore armor much like his old gear but much more fine, more befitting an old god, she imagined as she took in the golden threads and lyrium infused edges of the staff at his back.
He moved toward a small chalice placed high on the shelf and pulled. He was running, she realized even as the hidden door slid open in the shelf. She tried to pursue, however, nothing would move. She could not speak, could not raise a blade, or twitch an eyebrow. She was helpless and her heart beat faster at the knowledge.
Solas frowned at her.
"Whatever else is true, Seeker, I loved her. I…," he paused. "I love her still. Tell her… I am trying."
And then he was gone.