The inside of the chantry is alive with activity as sisters tend to their tasks along with the occasional refugee seeking absolution, aid, or both. Sticking close to Hawke, Ana feels him tense and looks around, noting the increased presence of templars. One, in particular, stands out with his highly decorated, bulky armor at the center of the room.
"Ser Bryant."
The Templar turns as Hawke leads the way. The worried lines of his face ease slightly. "Ah, Hawke. What brings you here? Last time I knew, you said you wouldn't step foot in here even if, and I quote, "Andraste herself was lying naked on a bed of pillows, covered in holy oil herself"."
Ana shoots Nate a questioning glance and he clears his throat. "Yes… I remember that. Normally that would still stand but, I have some friends of mine who require some help." He motions to the Wardens beside him.
"Yes?" Ser Bryant's eyes move to his companions. "And seeing how Hawke has seemed to have forgotten his manners, who might you be?"
"I'm Analise, Ser. Many just call me Ana." Ana introduces herself with a respectful bow of her head. Ser Bryant's brows rise in amusement and a slight smile begins to curl the corners of his lips,.
"And I'm Alistair," Alistair says with a stiff nod.
Ser Bryant nods to him before setting his eyes on Ana once more. "Well met to you both. It's good to see Hawke has been making more… respectable friends as of late."
Nate snorts and Ana shoots him a smile. "And you are?"
"I am Ser Bryant, commander of the Lothering Templars." Feeling Ana's gaze on him, he straightens. "How may I help you?"
Nate's usual smirk falters as he glances around before lowering his voice. "They're Grey Wardens."
Hearing this, Ser Bryant's expression changes. "I see…." He mutters, shooting Nate a glare. "Teyrn Loghain declared all Grey Wardens traitors, responsible for the king's death. You know this, I hope?"
"We've heard rumors." Alistair nods. "It's not true what they say. We had nothing to do with the king's death."
Noticing a few suspicious glances cast their way from nearby, Ser Bryant clenches his jaw. "Keep your voice down, boy." He hisses. When the people finally look away, he sighs and runs a hand over his dark hair.
"Truthfully, I don't believe the Grey Wardens would be as careless or malicious as the Teyrn claims, but either way, there it is. It is best you do not linger, though. Just in case."
"Where would I find the Revered Mother?" Ana quickly asks. "Of all people, surely she would be able to help us in some shape or form?"
He shrugs, motioning off toward the back of the Chantry itself. "In her study, no doubt, preparing what she will take when we eventually evacuate."
Nate's brows draw together. "Are they really already calling for an evacuation? I thought we had time?"
Once again, Ser Bryant shrugs. "So far it's only hearsay but we need to be prepared nonetheless."
As the man spoke, Alistair took a moment to look around. "Are you the only protection the village has?" He asks."Since we've arrived, I've seen only Templars but no actual guards anywhere."
"Our Bann was summoned by Teyrn Loghain, and he took his soldiers north with him. Lothering has been abandoned."
"At least there are still some loyal Andrastians still," Ana mutters. She looks up at him. "Lothering is lucky to have brave men like you to protect it, Ser Bryant."
Ser Bryant smiles and Alistair rolls his eyes.
"Thank you, Miss. Unfortunately, while our abilities help us against the unsanctioned magic of apostates, we are nearly useless against darkspawn. Actually, I believe people like you are our last remaining chance. If I recall correctly from the stories my mother told me as a child, Grey Wardens are the only true faction that stands a chance against these beasts."
Ana opens her mouth to respond but is quickly cut off as Nate waves the Templar's comment away dismissively. "As the only form of law enforcement here, what can you tell me about the caged Qunari?"
Ser Bryant's expression sours. "I was there at the farmhold."He says, shaking his head. "The beast stood there, wet with the blood of the children. He didn't even deny slaughtering them." His eyes move to Ana's horrified expression and he frowns. "My apologies…."
Ana gasps. "It slaughtered children?"
Ser Bryant nods. "Not just them but the entire family." His gauntleted hands ball at his sides. "The Revered Mother ordered him caged. She has more mercy than I do."
"Did he ever say why he did it?" Alistair asks.
Ser Brayant shakes his head. "No." He shrugs. "Whatever the reason, I wouldn't have let him live. Perhaps she is right and the Maker has love for all his creations. Even the Qunari."
"Is there a way he could be released?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, Alistair, Ana, and Ser Bryant look at Hawke as though he's gone mad.
"We all know you have a bit of a dark sense of humor, Hawke, but even this isn't a matter to joke about."
"I'm not joking," Nate replies, calmly. "I'm serious."
"What? Why?" Ana asks but Hawke barely hears her as he focuses his attention on Ser Bryant as he sighs.
"You can ask the Revered Mother. I say let him rot until the darkspawn claim him."
As he says this, Ana shivers remembering the torn bodies of the soldiers found in the Tower of Ishal. A brief silence falls over the group until Alistair speaks.
"Have you heard any recent news?"
Ser Bryant thinks about this for a moment before shrugging. "Other than the darkspawn horde bearing down on us? None of it is good. Teyrn Loghain is set to declare himself king, I hear. Disaster piled on disaster."
"King Cailan had no heir? Even an illegitimate one?" Alistair asks, shifting from one leg to the other.
As he says this, Ana remembers Eamon's letter to the king. She bites her lip.
"None that we know of." Ser Bryant sighs. "Teyrn Loghain has no legitimate claim on the throne. He may be a hero, and his daughter may be queen, but he is a commoner and the king's corpse is barely cold. If Arl Eamon was able to intervene, perhaps it would not have gone this far."
Alistair snorts. "Seems we have only the choice of no king at all which leaves us as a country defenseless or have a traitor take over for the one he killed."
"I'd watch what you say about the Teyrn, boy." Ser Bryant warns. "Besides, I do not care who takes the throne. Only fools fight over who owns a cottage while it burns down around them." He waves off toward the giant doors behind them. "I mean, look around! We have refugees fleeing their lands only to be robbed blind by scum on their way to seek shelter."
Ana and Alistair exchange a glance. "You mean the bandits out on the Imperial Highway near the ramp?"Ana asks.
"Yes, them."
"They won't be bothering you anymore. We killed them."
As soon as Ana says this, Ser Bryant's brows shoot up in surprise. "All of them? By yourselves?"
"Yes." Alistair nods. "When we arrived, they were trying to pose as toll collectors. Looks like they even took down one of your own as well. We found their body lying beside their caravan."
"Did they?" He looks off to the side where another man is kneeling before an Andraste statue, his head bowed in prayer. He motions to the man with his chin. "I know of none from my ranks here that are missing but that man over there has been waiting for news of his friend who I have heard is also a Templar. Perhaps check with him?"
He turns his attention back to the group, his expression solemn once more.
"As for the bandits, it's sad that it needed to come to that... but then they asked for it. While being Wardens, I cannot openly help you. I hope that you'll accept a small reward for your part in dispatching those brigands?"
"Gladly," Ana says, earning her a glare from her brother-warden. She shrugs him off.
Reaching onto his belt, Ser Bryant removes the purse and pulls out a key from his pocket, handing it out to them. "Here, take this key. It opens the large cabinet on the far wall. There is more there than we can carry when we evacuate, so take what you need."
Alistair takes the purse and hands the key to Ana who looks it over. She glances around, her brows furrowing as she tries to locate the cabinet indicated. She turns back, ready to ask but the Templar is gone. She glances down at the key once more before following Alistair over toward the kneeling soldier.
As they approach, they stand there for a moment before Nate clears his throat. The man's head raises and he turns to look up at them. "Oh." He turns away from them and pushes himself up, muttering half to himself. "I beg your pardon. I did not see you approach." He turns to face them, the light from the nearby torches illuminating his surprisingly young face.
"Ser Donall…?" Alistair asks. "Is that you?"
"Alistair?" The man's face brightens as he recognizes the lad. "By the Maker, how are you? I was certain you were dead!"
"Not yet, no thanks to Teyrn Loghain," Alistair replies, gravely. "I imagine you've heard about the bounty?"
"Ah, yes…" He nods, sighing. "If Arl Eamon were well, he'd set Loghain straight soon enough."
Alistair's brows furrow. "If he were well? What's happened?"
The knight sighs, running a hand over his short, blonde hair. He glances around before lowering his voice. "It's not publicly known just yet but recently Arl Eamon has fallen ill and has been bedridden since it's happened."
Alistair's brows furrow. "But if Arl Eamon is sick, why are you here in Lothering? Surely your sword is needed at the castle?"
Ser Donall shrugs, his gaze flicking over to Ana before returning to Alistair. "Every knight of Redcliffe has gone in search of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Our only hope now is a miracle."
"Andraste's ashes?" Ana gapes.
He nods. "Andraste's ashes are said to cure any illness." He shakes his head, frowning. "But I fear we are chasing a fable. With each day, my hope dims."
"Shouldn't you be fleeing the darkspawn?" Nate interjects.
"My mission takes priority. But I fear I shall be returning to Redcliffe with nothing to show for my efforts. What brings you here?"
As the man spoke, Morrigan quietly walked up behind them.
"I was hoping to see Arl Eamon, in fact," Alistair says.
"Why is that, if I may ask?"
"You may not." Morrigan snips. Alistair glares at her.
"Ignore her. We're needing help against Teryn Loghain."
"I see." He frowns. "The Arl is a popular man, it's true. Teyrn Loghain, however, is a hero throughout Ferelden. I'm afraid to say it but, whatever the Teryn has or hasn't done, the Arl remains ill, or worse. That is my primary concern."
"Do you think the Teyrn is involved in the Arl's illness?" Alistair asks, a lump forming in the pit of his stomach.
Ser Donall thinks about this for a moment before shrugging. "The Arl fell ill before the king died." He pauses. "But what if Loghain planned that, too? Ah, such thoughts do not sit well with me."
"Me either," Alistair says, pursing his lips. For a moment, nobody says anything until he turns to look at his sister-warden. "We should see what's happening in Redcliffe ourselves. I believe that now more than ever."
"And do what?" Ana asks, incredulously. "If the Arl is on his deathbed, what could we possibly do? Unless you have the sacred ashes of Andraste hidden away somewhere or are secretly a mage..."
Morrigan snorts at this and Alistair's face reddens.
"If nothing else, I am certain you would be welcomed at Castle Redcliffe." Ser Donall says. "The Arlessa is there, and she could tell you more than I could."
Alistair shifts uncomfortably. "Somehow I doubt that…" He mutters.
"So wait... your quest for the ashes brought you here? To Lothering?" Nate asks.
The knight nods. "I expected to take advantage of the chantry's library, in fact, but my skills are better suited to battle than chasing down tales."
"Tis sounds like a fool's errand." Morrigan comments.
"I agree. I feel like this quest was an act of desperation." Ser Donall frowns. "I intend to return to Redcliffe soon and tell the Arlessa exactly that, once Ser Henric arrives."
"Ser Henric? Is that the name of your missing friend?" Ana asks.
"I don't know about missing but he's definitely delayed. He's my fellow knight and traveling companion."
Ana and Alistair exchange a glance.
"I hate to be the one to tell you this but your friend is dead, Ser Donall." Ana frowns. "Killed by the bandits outside the village."
"What? That can't be…" He begins as Ana reaches into her pack and pulls out the Templar's note and locket.
"I found this note and locket on him when I kneeled down to pray for his soul." She says, handing both to him.
"You have his locket? And a note?" He takes it and looks the locket over, tears forming in his eyes. He reads the note before crumbling it in his hands, his eyes closing as a tear escapes and runs down his cheek.
Grief grips Ana's heart as she watches the knight. She knew the pain of losing those closest to her all too well.
"Maker's mercy…" He sighs, sniffing before wiping his cheek. He opens his eyes to look at Ana. "Thank you for giving me these. I would have never known otherwise."
"I'm very sorry for your loss, Ser Donall," Alistair says. "I'm sure Ser Henric was a good man."
He nods. "Thank you…he was." He shakes his head, muttering to himself, just barely loud enough. "I wonder how many of us have met similar fates on this mad quest."
"What will you do now?" Nate asks.
The Knight's light eyes shimmer in the nearby torchlight as he shrugs. "With Henric gone, I need to return to Redcliffe. Perhaps later I will seek out this scholar his note mentions. But I must go." He grabs the locket in his gauntleted hand and holds it up to his heart, looking at Ana. "Thank you again. You have been most helpful."
As Ser Donall gathers his things and leaves the chantry, Alistair swings around to face the others. "Maker's breath… I can't believe the Arl is ill…"
"So now what?" Ana asks. "With the Arl bedridden, we won't exactly be able to ask him for aid."
"Perhaps we should seek assistance elsewhere?" Morrigan suggests, earning a glare from Alistair.
"I won't rule the Arl out just yet." He hisses, glancing around them to ensure they hadn't drawn any unwanted attention. "We'll discuss this back at camp."
While Morrigan and Alistair bicker with one another, Nate motions for Ana and sneaks away to a nearby door. Glancing between her oblivious companions, she slips away to follow.
"Where are we going?" Ana whispers, a smile forming as Nate looks around them before carefully turning the knob.
"I want to show you something."
The heavy door creaks loudly and Nate quickly ushers her inside, chuckling as he puts a finger to his lips. Once both inside, he shuts the door behind him.
The smell of old books, incense and wood smoke assaults Ana's nose as she blinks into the darkness that had enveloped them. For a moment, she hears nothing and worries that Nate left. "Nate?" She whispers, her eyes darting around despite the dark.
"I'm here."
She feels his hand brush against hers before his fingers curls around hers before vanishing. Her heart pounds in her chest until somewhere ahead of her a small ember brightens to a small flame. She blinks as the light brightens before noticing the lantern that now brightens to a soft light. Nate shuts the little glass door and lowers his hand as the flame that was once dancing at the center of his palm only moments ago extinguishes and the room is filled with light from the lantern.
Rows of bookshelves filled with dusty-looking tomes line the walls. Ana's brows draw together. "A...library? That's what you wanted to show me?"
Nate grins, his face somehow even more handsome in the soft glow from the lantern.
"Not entirely." He chuckles. He motions for her to follow.
He grabs the lantern and walks toward the back with a curious Ana in tow. Toward the back, angled writing desks sit among the larger, sturdy oak tables stacked high with books, old lanterns, and a medium-sized Andraste statue tucked away in a small alcove.
Ana brushes her fingers over the worn spines of the books, casually reading the titles that have yet to be worn away with time.
She stops as Nate does, watching his mouth flatten into a solid line as he scans the shelves.
"You don't like chantries much, do you?" She asks, her tone light and curious.
"Not much to like as an apostate." He mutters. He lets out a small sound of triumph as he finds what he's looking for and pulls a large, dusty tome from the shelf. Turning away from her, he blows on the cover and dust gathers in a cloud ahead of him as he moves the lantern closer to read the elegant gold script scrawled across the cover. Angling it so she can see it, he grins.
Ana's eyes narrow as they shift to look at him, an elegant brow raising. "Nate...It's the Chant of Light. We had multiple copies in the small chapel and studies at the castle. They're not exactly scarce to find."
Nate chuckles, a deep rumble in his throat that has a bit of an effect on her but she pushes past it.
"Being a devoted Andrastian, I have no doubt you've seen and read the Chant multiple times and may even know it by heart. However, this one is special. This particular copy was penned by none other than Divine Justinia I herself, in her own hand."
He holds the book out to her which she carefully takes. With an insisting motion from Nate, she carefully opens it. Her breath catches.
Unlike the copies she studied at Castle Cousland, this once was clearly written by hand. Her eyes move over the careful, elegant script, noting the slight smudges and crossed-out parts from where the author messed up or touched the still-wet ink.
"Maker's breath…" She breathes, her eyes glowing in the lantern light as she meets his gaze. Her lips part in preparation to speak but her words temporarily elude her. Once finding them, she whispers it. "How? W...why?"
He raises an amused brow and she shakes herself from her stupor.
"How...did you know about this?" She asks. "Why isn't it in Orlais at the Grand Cathedral locked away?"
"It's actually only a first draft left behind, I've heard, when she was stationed in Ferelden with the Orlesian army." Nate shrugs. "Honestly, I heard rumors of it as a kid but never dared step foot in the chantry to look."
"What changed?" She frowns. "You came in with us…do you not fear the templars? You seem on good terms with Ser Bryant and Ser Maron. Do they know…."
"That I'm a mage?" Nate smirks. She nods and he shakes his head. "No. Ser Bryant tried to recruit me a couple of years back and when Ser Maron's father passed, Carver and I helped on their farm for a bit until they had enough money to hire a farmhand." He shrugs with an almost boyish grin. "Seeing as you and Alistair are wanted outlaws essentially, I figured I could handle a bit of risk… for you."
A blush rises to her cheeks as she looks down at the book once more, a smile forming. She closes the book, a bit harder than intended and a cloud of dust erupts making her turn away as the lantern suddenly goes out, throwing them into the darkness once more. Reflexively, she hugs the book close to her, hardly breathing for fear that Nate extinguished it because he heard something - or somebody - enter.
Seconds seem like hours before a soft light glows nearby. The dust mites float around in the illuminated light before Nate's face becomes visible, his smile a welcome sight.
"Are you alright?" He asks, stepping forward. His other hand rested on a shelf near her head. She nods, her heart pounding in her chest so hard she feared he could hear it in his close proximity.
Her eyes flick down to his lips, before returning to his eyes. He smiles. "You're flushed, M'lady."
Irritation bubbles up inside Leliana as she tries to focus on her prayers despite the bickering whispers behind her. Her eyes snap open and she shifts her body to look. Before she can hiss for them to be quiet, her eyes fall on the young Warden, red-faced as he gestures wildly before rolling his eyes at the tall dark-haired woman before him.
Turning back toward the stone Andraste statue before her, she quickly finishes her prayer and blows out the candle she's holding before rising. Casually she dusts herself off and leaves the small alcove toward the duo who pays her no mind.
She politely clears her throat and waits as both of them turn to face her. The raven-haired woman's golden eyes take her by surprise as they narrow at her, moving over her modest chantry robes. Alistair just blinks in surprise. She smiles.
"Good morning, Alistair." She greets, bowing her head in greeting.
As Alistair's cheeks redden, Morrigan watches him in amusement. "Friend of yours?"
He opens his mouth to respond but quickly shuts it once more, unsure of what to say. He turns to get some support from Nate but finds him missing. His brows crease as he looks around, a low simmering of worry starting to erupt as he sees no sign of Ana either.
"I was hoping to catch you before you left." Leliana babbles on. "I was wondering if you considered my proposition?"
Morrigan raises a brow. "What proposition?"
Leliana tilts her head slightly but her expression remains neutral.
"I…" Alistair begins distractedly as his eyes move around the room. "I haven't had much of a chance to discuss it with my sister-warden."
Leliana's brows raise. "There's a female Warden with you?"
"Somewhere." He mutters, the panic beginning to set in.
Leliana's eyes shift to Morrigan. "Are you a Warden as well?"
Morrigan gives a derisive snort and Alistair interrupts her questioning.
"No, she isn't. Have you seen a young woman with black hair and blue eyes? Probably seen with the bearded man that was at the tavern with me last night?"
Leliana shrugs as Alistair finally spots them at the corner of his eye. He waves them over.
Ana and Nate approach them and Alistair notices the slight blush that pinkens Ana's normal fair complexion along. He raises a brow at her which only makes the blush deepen but she says nothing.
"Nathan, is it?" Leliana greets brightly. "You were with Alistair last night at the tavern."
He nods. "Yes. Hello again, Sister…?"
"Leliana." He eyes fall on Ana and she smiles. "You must be Alistair's sister-warden."
"I am," Ana says, her eyes flicking cautiously to Alistair before returning. "I'm Ana."
"A pleasure." She inclines her head slightly. "I was just talking to your brother-warden about the proposition I made last night in the tavern."
Ana glances at the men beside her. "Oh? And what proposition was that?"
Alistair's face reddens. "I was going to tell you about it last night… Sister Leliana offered to join on our travels."
The sister nods. "The Maker told me to go with you."
"Oh boy…" Alistair groans as Morrigan scoffs.
"Did he now?" She smirks.
Leliana's smile falls. "I know that must sound insane… I had a vision where the Maker came to me and told me that he was sending somebody to carry out his work to bring light in this darkness. I believe you are that somebody."
"Excuse us for a moment."
Before Ana has a moment to speak, Alistair pulls her aside. Immediately, she pulls her arm away with a glare.
He sighs. "Before you get mad, she approached Nate and I last night at the tavern but I said I would discuss it with you first."
"What's there to discuss?" Ana asks, shrugging. "Let her join."
Alistair's eyes widen. "What?" He hisses, earning a curious look from the other three. He waves awkwardly before lowering his voice. "You must be joking."
She crosses her arms over her chest and raises her chin. "Why? We need help and she's offering to help us."
Alistair looks at her incredulously. "Did you not hear her? She said the Maker," He points upwards, "spoke to her."
"And?" She shrugs. "I've heard you talk and answer yourself at Ostagar. You even put your boot on your hand and pretended it was talking back to you."
His face reddens. "I was joking around. She's serious about this!"
She crosses her arms over her chest. "Do you have something against the Chantry?" She looks over him disdainfully.
"No!" He hisses.
"Is it because she's a woman?"
His brows furrow. "What? No. I just-" He stops as Ana watches him impatiently. Sighing, he runs a hand over his hair. "It has nothing to do with her being from the chantry. I just don't think she's….fit enough to come along on this quest."
Ana rolls her eyes. "You don't like that she spoke of having a vision. Sounds like you're scared."
Alistair crosses his arms awkwardly across his broad chest plate. "Aren't you? Even Nate was weirded out!" He shakes his head. "Who knows what kind of crazy lies beneath those chantry robes? A lot is riding on his forming this army with our treaties. Now isn't exactly the time for us to be taking such risks."
Ana signs, looking over to where Leliana is still talking with Nate. "What other choice do we have? We need help."
Nearby, Nate glances over at the two Wardens locked in a serious conversation nearby.
"Being Wardens, I imagine it's not easy for them to travel and seek assistance."
Nate's attention snaps back. "No, it's not. They've essentially become outlaws."
Leliana stares off in the distance thoughtfully. Without another word, she starts off toward the back of the chantry as Ana and Alistair return.
"Where's she going?" Ana frowns, watching the woman as she stops before a door to speak with a Templar.
"No idea." Nate shrugs.
They watch for a moment as the Templar nods and disappears through the doorway while Leliana stands in place. She turns to look at them and waves them over. Nobody moves and she waves them over again.
"She's beckoning us over."
"Seems like a trap," Morrigan mutters.
"For once, I agree with her," Alistair says. Ana glares at them and starts over, ignoring Alistair hissing her name.
"Go after her," Nate says. "I'll wait back here."
Alistair gives him a look before slowly following his sister-warden. As he approaches the two women, he opens his mouth to say something just as the templar returns.
"The Revered Mother will see you now."
Alistair's brows jump up as the door opens and Leliana walks in with an awed Ana and Alistair in tow.
The inside of the room is bathed in a warm light from the large candle chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Floor to ceiling bookcases line one wall as a large sturdy looking desk with papers and books sits at one side. Seeing the tall headdress of the Revered Mother tilted forward as she writes, Ana and Leliana immediately drop into a low bow. Alistair looks around a moment before realizing and dropping onto his knee, the sound of his knee making contact with the floor attracting the woman's attention. He winces but keeps his head down.
The Revered Mother sighs and puts her quill down and rises from her desk. She rounds it and motions for them to rise. "You may rise, my children."
Immediately, her eyes fall on the short red hair of the lay sister.
"Good day, Sister Leliana. I'm surprised to see you're still in Lothering."
Leliana nods. "It is good to see you as well, your Reverence."
The woman's eyes sweep over the other two. "I do not recognize your companions."
"I'm Analise, your Reverence," Ana says, bowing her head. "You may call me Ana if it pleases you."
Alistair stares in awe until Ana nudges him hard in the side. His cheeks burn as he also bows his head. "And I'm Alistair...your Reverence."
"Greetings." She nods, folding her hands neatly before her. "Will you be making a donation to the chantry? Our need has never been greater."
Alistair's cheeks redden. "Unfortunately, no. We have barely enough to sustain ourselves." The reddening deepens as he hastily adds, "Otherwise we would gladly donate."
The Revered Mother somberly nods. "What can I do for you, then? I was told by Ser Argeon you had an important matter to discuss."
"We do…" He says, pausing to look warily at the two templar guards standing off to the side. "It's a bit of a sensitive matter…."
"I see." Her eyes follow the young man's gaze. She dismisses her Templars and tells them to stand guard just outside. Once they leave, she motions to Alistair once more. "Proceed."
"We are Grey Wardens. We need your help."
Her expression, which had been fairly neutral moments before, hardens. "Grey Wardens? Here? Oh dear… You put me in a difficult position." She straightens. "You must know that Teyrn Loghain declared the Grey Wardens to be outlaws?"
Ana's eyes widen as she drops to her knees before her. Her bright blue eyes widen. "We've done nothing that he has claimed, Your Reverence! He is the traitor, not us!"
The older woman frowns as she looks down at the young Warden. She motions for her to rise once more.
"Teyrn Loghain?" She asks, her eyes flicking between them. "This is as hard for me to believe as his condemnation of the Wardens, given the circumstances... "
"Surely there is something you can do, Revered Mother?" Leliana asks.
She sighs once more. "There is a price on your heads. Lay low and I promise to keep your presence a secret. Aside from a blessing, that is the best I can do."
Ana's heart sinks and she feels the tears begin to sting her eyes. Bowing her head, she thanks her.
Once receiving their blessing, the trio slowly leaves the study. As the door closes behind them, Ana inhales a shaky breath to keep the tears at bay.
"I am sorry that the chantry was unable to aid you," Leliana says, her youthful face twisted with regret. "I had hoped that she would be able to offer you shelter or at the very least some extra supplies."
"We appreciate it." Alistair shrugs.
"We're doomed," Ana mutters. Her companions turn their attention to her but her eyes remain fixed on the worn rug on the floor a few paces away.
"Hey… don't say that," Alistair says gently, reaching out to touch her arm reassuringly. She pulls her arm away and his hand drops. "We still have that key from Ser Bryant. Perhaps we can find some extra supplies in that cabinet he spoke of."
"There's a big cabinet in the far corner of the library." Leliana offers, pointing off in the distance at a cluster of worn bookshelves. "Perhaps that is the one Ser Bryant spoke of?"
"Perhaps…" He mutters. He turns to Ana once more, offering a reassuring smile. "It's worth a look. Shall we?"
Motioning for her to join, he starts back in the direction Leliana indicated. As Alistair leaves, Leliana places a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just." She recites, offering a sympathetic smile. "You will get through this."
Tears stinging her eyes, Ana returns her smile. "I hope so…"
From across the way, Nate watches Ana place her face in her hands as the chantry sister disappears behind the barricade of bookcases. With a muttered excuse to Morrigan, he strides to where Ana is standing.
"Ana?" He says as he approaches. He frowns as her brilliant blue eyes raise to meet his, bright with tears. "What happened?"
"She couldn't help us…" She says, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "She knows of the bounty and said she can't do anything…" Her lower lip trembles. "What are we to do, Nate? Nobody seems willing to help us!"
Instinctively, he pulls her into his embrace, gently stroking her hair as she clings to him. "I'm very sorry, Love." He mutters into her hair. He pulls away slightly to look at her. "All is not lost. I'm still helping you get supplies, aren't I? It's not much but it'll get you started."
"I wish you could come with us." She mutters.
He pulls her close for another quick embrace as he looks up to see Alistair watching them. The Warden motions to the cabinet and Nate nods. Pulling away, he motions toward her brother-Warden with his chin. "Go with Alistair and see what useful items you can find among Ser Bryant's equipment. Any piece of armor is better than none at all. You'll need to be able to protect yourself out there." Seeing her worried expression, he smiles. "I'll join you in a moment. I just need to speak with somebody about something. Okay?"
Her brows still furrowed, she shoots him a confused glance but slowly nods. "Okay…" With one final glance at her friend, she starts back toward the others.