Notes: Thank you once again for reading the story! Song is "Erase This" by Evanescence.
Chapter 49: Drowning in the Mess That I've Made
After carrying Caitlyn into the Keep, taking off her shoes, belt, and clothing, and laying her down on the bed, Anders found himself nearly unable to get to sleep. He watched her for an hour, before the first hint of dawn began to creep through the windows, wondering and worrying.
Will she hate me in the morning for what I did on the steps? he thought anxiously. I don't think I had much choice; if she really had stormed into the Chantry at three in the morning to unleash a tirade on the Grand Cleric, it would have been disastrous for her. But was it my place to forcibly deny her the chance to do it? I made a horrible series of decisions myself when she was in Ferelden; what right do I have to block her from doing anything? She wanted to protect Merrill's clan, so she took an action that resulted in disaster... I wanted to protect her from making a bad decision, so I took an action... that I hope won't result in disaster for our relationship...
When the black sky began to turn blue, he finally realized that there was nothing to be done about it now. It was done, and she would react however she reacted. The best thing he could do now would be to sleep too, at least for a few hours, so that if she did wake up furious with him, he would not have that confrontation after a night of no sleep. With that, the Fade took him.
When Caitlyn woke up, the sun had already risen. She blinked herself awake as confusion overtook her. She did not remember entering the inner Keep last night. She gazed at herself; she was wearing only her smallclothes. The light leathers she had worn were draped across the back of a chair across the bedroom, but she definitely did not recall taking that off. Next to her, Anders slept soundly, close enough that his warmth reached her body. She smiled at that; he always looked so innocent and sweet in his sleep when it was peaceful and the spirit was not in control.
Then she remembered. I was on the steps of the Keep, threatening to go to the Chantry, and Anders... asked me to forgive him. Then he... oh. She realized what must have happened. A momentary flare of anger passed through her, but it vanished at once at the thought of what she had almost done. I forgive you, she thought, gazing at him as he slept. You kept me from doing something incredibly foolish and destructive. At this, the full set of memories from the day before flooded her mind, and misery threatened to overwhelm her.
Merrill is utterly furious with me, she thought. Meredith captured her and took her to the Circle, she turned to the pride demon to try to escape, Keeper Marethari sacrificed herself instead... and all of this was triggered by the fact that Chantry missionaries are in conflict with the Dalish. Maker, what am I going to do? I've got to get the Dalish a better deal, but how? And how can I ever regain Merrill's trust and friendship now? Feeling wretched, she drew up her legs and buried her face between her knees. A sob escaped her involuntarily, which was like a dam breaking. A flood of sobs followed, much to her dismay—she did not want to wake Anders, but this was making enough noise that she did not see how it couldn't.
He shifted beside her, waking up, and rolled onto his back once his eyes fluttered open. He gazed at her; her head was buried between her knees, and she was crying her heart out. His own heart went out to her at the sight. "Darling," he said gently, propping himself on his elbows.
She lifted her head, revealing a tear-stained face. "Thank you for keeping me from making this much worse. Damn the woman, but I cannot afford to lose her support." She hiccuped.
He gazed sympathetically at her. "I'm sorry for doing it nonetheless." He pushed himself up, sitting upright, and placed his right arm gently around her back. "Do you want to talk? I'm here. I'm always here for you."
"That would be unfair. You must have had even less sleep than I did."
He smiled. "But I can nap during the day. Mal won't like not going to the clinic immediately, but there are plenty of other things for him to do while I sleep. You probably... unfortunately... don't have that luxury, so please, talk to me if you need to."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Merrill was right," she burst out. "I didn't want her to be, but she was. I did put my cause and my political strategy ahead of her people." She gazed up at him with wounded eyes. "Anders, this is exactly what I feared, that this position would end up destroying my friendships and leave me with nothing except alliances of convenience. Petrice is an ally, not a friend. Merrill has been a friend. And which did I assign more importance with my actions?"
"It doesn't have to be like that," he said at once. "You can make things right with Merrill still."
"Can I?" she said. "That's not up to me. I can try, but if she is done with me, then no, I can't." She wiped her eyes and gazed ahead. "This makes me question everything, to be honest."
"What do you mean, everything?" he said quickly, alarm in his words.
She took another shuddering breath. "My allies and friends are attacking and undermining each other while Meredith's side is strong and resilient."
"Caitlyn—"
"It's true," she said, finality in her tone. "That is exactly what happened. And... there was something Keeper Marethari said at camp." She closed her eyes briefly, refreshing the memory in her mind. "She said that sometimes people are just too different to live together in peace, if the difference is about strongly held convictions. I've cobbled together a coalition and a Council of people who have different things that they value. You and I are the radical reformer mages. Aveline wants to root out corruption and establish the rule of law in the city. Merrill wants—wanted—to make life better for elves and bring back Dalish lore and culture. Petrice has her own agenda, and it has sometimes overlapped with what I want, but... how can people with so many different priorities, some of which are at odds, work together?"
"Compromise?" he said weakly, aware that the word was deeply ironic coming from him.
She laughed, but it was a bitter laugh, and it quickly morphed into a sob. "And if we do, then what? Meredith's side isn't compromising anything. They are united in their awful beliefs. If she sees us compromising what we want because otherwise we'll tear each other to pieces, that will only embolden her further. She will want to see how far she can push us before the 'compromises' we make are too much and cause someone in our faction to break. In fact, that may have just happened." She sighed. "Honestly, after this, I wonder if the best thing I could do would be to just... leave."
"Leave?" he repeated, not comprehending. Surely she couldn't mean—
"Abdicate," she said, her lips curling.
"What?" he exclaimed, embracing her tightly and gaping at her. "Of course you shouldn't!"
"Shouldn't I?" she said bitterly. "What good have I been? The meager reforms to the Kirkwall Circle—only this one, the worst in Thedas, no other—all occurred before I became Viscountess. I've accomplished nothing."
"That's not true! You've set an example for mages that no one can erase. You've lived freely and openly as a free mage, a city hero, a leader, a spouse and a parent... and you've done things too. The reform orders might have preceded you, but you already knew you were going to be crowned. It was a formality. And you implemented them. No other possible Viscount or Viscountess would have asked a Grand Cleric for these reforms."
"Ser Marlein supported mage rights, and Comte de Launcet has a mage son," she argued.
"They might have wanted something eventually," he granted, "but not all of the reforms at once, even these mild ones. A lifelong noble like de Launcet would've wanted a personal, unofficial exception for his son, not a reform to the whole Circle to grant family visiting rights to every mage. These changes wouldn't have happened under anyone else, love. No one else would have had battlemages in the City Guard or Healers in the Chantry and Keep."
"Yes, I arranged for a healing clinic to be set up in the Keep, and we almost got killed, and innocent people were maimed."
"And that wasn't at all your fault! A deranged fanatic did it!"
She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "I make alliances with disparate people and congratulate myself as a shrewd politician for balancing their interests. I get a Chantry priest as an ally, I compromise my own ideals time and time again to support her demagoguery, her Game-playing tactics, her drive to proselytize... I do these things because it's necessary for the cause of mage rights, but then, because of that, I can't even protect one of my own dearest friends from my enemy! Merrill was taken to the Circle by Meredith herself, Anders! Who's next? Who else am I supposed to protect from that fate no matter what? I see what's going to happen next, whom I'm going to fail next." Her eyes were wide and filled with terror and disgust with herself.
Anders could not stand to listen to any more of this. He pulled her into his arms and pressed her head against his chest. "Stop," he pleaded. "You're not going to fail him. If Meredith dared to threaten him, you and I, and all of our friends, would take her out right there. We promised that. We promised that before we even took vows to each other."
She muffled a sob, but she did not feel compelled to argue. His words soothed her as she remembered their promises, made over and over—that no matter what, they would protect their family.
"And this mess also isn't your fault. You did try to balance interests. It's not your fault that the missionaries wouldn't let the Dalish alone, and it's definitely not your fault that Merrill was reckless and then turned to a demon in the Fade for rescue instead of trusting her friends to get her out."
"It happened because of things I set in motion," she protested weakly. "And how can you blame her when she was the victim in this? I know you don't blame mages in general for being captured."
"I don't, and we shouldn't have to run or hide, but she was reckless to throw off your protection when she had to know, deep down, that you didn't want any of that to happen on the Sundermount. But in terms of blaming her, I mean the demon and the Keeper's death, more so than her capture. Remember, Caitlyn, I was also tempted by a demon that claimed to be able to help me escape. Justice is the only reason I didn't give in. I don't say it to be self-righteous about my own 'strength' or blame her for being 'weak,' because I was weak too! I was tempted by the same thing! But I accept that I am the one who considered that temptation. It was my fault and my weakness... so it is also hers."
"She is my friend," Caitlyn whispered, on the verge of crying, "and I should have kept a closer eye on her. Meredith's thugs had been after her for months, but I just assumed Varric had it in hand and didn't make any efforts to interfere after she turned down my offer to live at the Keep. And it wasn't Varric's responsibility. It was mine. I'm the one with power. I let her down, and her mentor is dead because of it. Her clan, the people she grew up with, will now be led by a Keeper who has been among them for barely six months."
"Merrill could have been the Keeper herself."
"Anders," Caitlyn protested, "I'm not saying that you are wrong about the facts... but you asked me once not to try to absolve you of actions that you had decided were tyrannical, even if the people you did them to deserved it. I have to ask you, now, not to absolve me of failing as a friend. Whatever may have happened, whoever holds responsibility for what specific action, I feel that I have failed in my friendship with her. I..." She broke off, choking down a sob at last. "I need to own my share of the blame. I need to feel remorseful about this. Please let me."
He finally, reluctantly, nodded, cradling her head against his chest tenderly. It hurt to see her beat herself up like this, but he did understand about guilt that would not go away. If this is what she needs from me right now, I will give it to her, he vowed silently as he held her.
"You're right," she finally said quietly. "It would be stupid of me to step down. I have a responsibility and that would only be running from it."
"That's right," he said encouragingly.
"I'll make things right with Merrill," she said. "I won't run from my duty. But... Maker, Anders, I know it was always impossible that we could've lived a peaceful life as a family of mages with nothing changed in the world. I know that eventually, one of our children—or grandchildren—would have been taken, and our family would have been ripped apart. But there are still times when I wish none of this had happened—that you and Father had come back, and we had never been parted, and all of the family had made it to safety when the Blight came."
"I feel that way too sometimes," he said quietly, holding her close.
"I think I would've been a better person. I wouldn't be fighting my own darkness all the time. You wouldn't have had to struggle every day trying to save your spirit friend and yourself from that same darkness." She lifted her head, gazing at him with wounded eyes. "It's hard. It's hard to have this much responsibility and to know what we have become."
"I know," he said in a gentle whisper, caressing her shoulders. "I know. But I'm here for you... and we do have a family. We have Mal, and we have each other."
Caitlyn felt better after that. Leaving Anders to resume his rest, she got dressed, had breakfast with Mal, and—much to his dismay—told him that he would need to entertain himself today because his father needed to sleep.
"Is Father all right?" the little boy asked.
"He is. He's just tired, so you need to let him sleep until he is ready to stir around. He and I were busy very late last night, long after you had gone to sleep," she explained.
"Well," Mal groused, "I guess I can read until he gets up. And Baldwin and Pounce are here."
"There you go."
She left the Keep after that, deciding to go to the Chantry first. It occurred to her that Meredith would likely discover Merrill's absence very quickly, if she hadn't already discovered it, and Caitlyn needed to get on top of the situation. Varric would surely protect Merrill today, and she could go to the Hanged Man later and talk with them. She made sure to tell the guards where she was going, so that Meredith would hopefully not harass Anders or—especially—Mal.
As she walked toward the Chantry, she thought about what to say, how to handle this. Once again she silently thanked Anders for not letting her yell at Petrice in the wee hours of the morning, exhausted and emotionally distraught. Now she had the chance to think about her argument and to be shrewd about it.
The Dalish want protection for their Keeper and First, she thought, feeling a pang at the memory of Marethari's death. Petrice will surely be willing to grant that. Let's see... they were also particularly offended that the Chantry folk said prayers when they saw the Dalish religious statues, and they wanted them to camp farther away... oh, and the hunter was deeply affronted at being told that his gods were really demons of the Fade.
As she continued her walk, she thought about it. How do we know that the Dalish aren't right? she realized. That wouldn't even preclude the existence of the Maker. Merrill has told me a little about their faith. They don't believe that their Creators actually brought the world into existence from nothing, but rather, that they formed and shaped it. Both they and the Maker could be real. The Old Gods of Tevinter unquestionably existed, and according to the Grey Wardens, two still sleep. How do we know that the Dalish Creators aren't real too? As this line of thought passed through her mind, she realized that there was no possible way she could say any of it to Petrice. "There is but one god and He is our Maker," she thought, reciting part of the Chant of Light in her mind. But that's not actually true, because of the Old Gods. They aren't really demons like we know; they are something much more powerful. But Petrice won't agree with any of this, and if I tell her any of these thoughts, she will consider me a heretic and never trust me again. This is a conversation to have with Anders and my own friends. For this conversation with her, somehow, I have to help the Dalish while making her believe that I support her goal of converting them.
She entered the Chantry and was shown to the Grand Cleric at once. "What brings you here today?" Petrice asked when Caitlyn entered her office.
Caitlyn sat down across from the head priest. "I don't know how often you receive reports from the missionaries that you sent to the Sundermount," she began, noting with grim satisfaction the look of surprise on Petrice's face that Caitlyn knew about it—which was immediately followed by sheepishness and mild embarrassment, two emotions she never expected to see in this woman. "But I was there a couple of days ago, and the situation has become... tense."
The priest considered her words. Caitlyn privately relished the fact that she had actually struck Petrice silent, and when the priest spoke again, her voice was very subdued, indicating that she knew she had done wrong by not telling Caitlyn about the missionaries. "I have been informed that the Dalish are rather hostile to the message," she said. "It is unsurprising, given what happened with the Dales ages ago, but so it is. I deliberately chose a priest and sisters who would be... diplomatic... and Templars who don't like the Knight-Commander and are uninterested in apprehending apostate mages. I regret that the Dalish are still unhappy."
"I heard both sides of the conflict," Caitlyn said. "The priests and Templars said as much about what they had done, and the Dalish agree that they haven't violated the treaty, but they still had specific complaints and requests, which I think are mostly reasonable. I was hoping that you would hear me out."
Petrice waited silently, folding her arms over her desk.
"First, the elves are worried about their Keeper and Keeper's apprentice. Their customs require these people to be mages, and they are concerned because the treaty doesn't specifically protect Dalish mages in writing even if these particular Templars and priests do leave them be."
"Hawke, we cannot put that in writing in the treaty. You must realize that."
"Why not?" she said aggressively, leaning forward.
"There are very limited ways to formally, legally protect mages. The Grey Wardens have immunity from the Circles, and a Grand Cleric or higher-ranked Chantry official can choose to grant freedom to individual mages by name, as I did for you. But the fact remains that outside those situations, a mage who is not a member of a Circle is an apostate, and there is no basis in canon law as it currently is to decree that Dalish mages, categorically, have an exception, especially since they are not Andrastian." When Caitlyn looked to object on principle, Petrice continued. "I realize that, whatever false gods they may believe in, whatever primitive manner in which they otherwise live, the Dalish do train their mages well—better than the Circles, one could even say, given that I've never heard of a Dalish clan having an abomination."
Oh, dear sweet Maker, thought Caitlyn, the horrible memory of Marethari's end returning immediately to her mind. But then, she made that choice on purpose to save Merrill. She wasn't tempted by the demon. It was a sacrifice.
"But it would be immediately challenged if you put in writing that Dalish mages were not subject to Chantry rules. It is unfortunate if the elves don't trust the Templars and priests I chose, but unofficial protection is the best I can do, so long as canon law is what it is."
Caitlyn sighed unhappily; she didn't like it, but unfortunately it made sense to her. She quickly moved on to her next points. "Very well. The next issues that came up were... irritants to the Dalish, I guess you could say. Specific things that the Chantry folk did that offended them."
"Such as?"
"They... take great offense at being told that the figures they worship are demons of the Fade, for one," Caitlyn said. "A Dalish hunter explained why to me. He said that they too enter the Fade and know what demons and spirits are. Apparently nothing they interact with in the Fade is something they worship, and they are insulted at being spoken of as if they don't know any better."
"I see," said Petrice. "So they believe that their false gods do not talk to them in the Fade, just as we believe about the true Maker. That does make the task of spreading the Chant more difficult, if they believe in things that they do not see even in their dreams, but it is important to know. Thank you for this information."
She thinks I told her that to help her in her "mission," thought Caitlyn. I guess that's what I wanted her to think, but I also want her to get the priests and sisters to change their behavior. "It's important to convey to your people that they need not to say this," she urged. "In fact, speaking against the Dalish religion at all isn't going to help. It's only going to make them defensive and more attached to it. You could tell your people not to say to the elves that their gods are false, but instead, just to talk about the Maker and His power and grace. Honey rather than vinegar, you might say."
Petrice considered that, silently agreeing after a moment. "A good idea."
"And since they know that they don't worship demons, it's not necessary for your people to say prayers of protection when they are around Dalish statues and religious idols," said Caitlyn. "It's just carved stone. The Templars should be able to detect if an object actually is housing a demon, in any case. But the Dalish take offense when the Chantry folk behave as if they need protection."
"That is very petty of them, but if it offends their sensibilities so much that they are creating trouble for my mission group, so be it."
Petty? Caitlyn thought. What's petty is for your people to pray for protection in front of the elves! But I'm not going to have this argument. Instead she continued, "And the last big point that came up was that the Dalish don't like the fact that the Chantry camp is set up within sight of theirs. They think they are being watched."
Petrice actually scoffed at this. "More pettiness and paranoia! Very well. These are... not unreasonable requests, and I will pass on these instructions to my people, though I do hope that the Dalish do not take this as encouragement to demand more and more. The Qunari demand ever more when they are appeased."
Caitlyn decided to be daring at last, having gotten most of what she wanted and feeling relieved that she had managed to deceive the priest about where she stood regarding Petrice's mission. "The Qunari force 'conversion' to the Qun by literally destroying the minds of dissenters, and they kill defectors," she said. "The Dalish don't do either of those things... and their way of life is not really that dissimilar to ours compared to the Qunari culture. They don't live in houses, but they do have their own form of marriage and believe in monogamy and raise families in the clans. They have no more use for demons than the Circle of Magi does... and they only turn violent when they are being attacked. They aren't out to conquer anyone."
A faint, wry smile formed on the priest's face. "Your little Dalish friend must have been very forthcoming with you."
Caitlyn was about to respond affirmatively—and to tell Petrice what had happened to Merrill—when a loud bang outside the office interrupted the meeting.
"The guards at the Keep told me where Hawke was!" roared a female voice. "I demand to see her and the high priest at once!"
Petrice's expression instantly darkened. "What in all of Thedas is her problem now?" she snarled, rising to her feet with Caitlyn.
"I meant to tell you before she arrived," Caitlyn said, her voice low and her words quick and panicked. "Something happened with my friend. Just let me handle this and follow my lead. Please."
Petrice's eyes widened as she deduced what must have happened. In the next second, the door slammed open and Meredith Stannard burst into the office. Her eyes were wide, wild, and bloodshot, and she looked more furious than Caitlyn had ever seen—and less sane. A vein was thumping in her right temple, and her neck was actually lined with sinew and blood vessels as well.
"What is the meaning of this?" exclaimed Petrice, who had adjusted her face from shock to indignation immediately. "How dare you burst in like this?"
Meredith pointed a finger disrespectfully at Caitlyn as if casting a curse. "You!" she roared. "Where is she?"
"What are you raving about?" Caitlyn spat, her heart thumping. "You need to cut back on the lyrium. It doesn't agree with you."
"Oh, if you weren't the Viscountess of Kirkwall, I'd take you down right here," seethed Meredith.
"Knight-Commander!" exclaimed Petrice.
At the same time, though her heart was pounding loudly enough from nervousness that she could hear it inside her ear canals, Caitlyn snarled back, "That didn't stop you from deposing Perrin Threnhold. You are begging for a duel, and I'm more than happy to oblige if you don't explain yourself."
"Where is the elf?" demanded Meredith, the vein in her head pulsing. "I know you and your friends got her out of the Circle last night. Where is she?"
"Oh, so that's where Merrill was?" Caitlyn said coolly. "We were worried about her, clearly with very good reason."
"Don't play innocent with me! I know you and your friends did it, probably also your apostate husband. Who helped you?"
Caitlyn drew herself up imperiously and glared at the Templar, holding her staff in a defiant gesture. "There is a wide network of people who get mages out of the Circle when they are in danger," she said loftily, "as you know very well. It's not exactly a secret. And if you had the unmitigated presumption to arrest my friend, a member of the Viscountess's Small Council, then of course that group would believe that she was in danger due to your hatred of me."
"You harbored an apostate in your Small Council knowing full well what she was, then!"
"I was raised and taught by an apostate," snarled Caitlyn, stepping forward menacingly. "I grew up with apostates! I loved another apostate, whom people like you then took from me, and I only got to marry him after he became a Grey Warden. I lived as one myself for years! My friend is Dalish-trained and has no reason to be locked up in the Gallows, any more than the Arcane Guard or designated Healers do!"
"She is not a guard or a Healer," sneered Meredith.
"She was serving man by advising the Viscountess about the situation of the elves of Kirkwall," put in Petrice.
"So you were in on this too?" snapped the Knight-Commander. "I should have known."
"This is not why Her Grace came to see me this morning, and she has made it very plain that she does not know where the young elf is. I advise you to leave my office before I call the guards."
"I know you were part of this," Meredith warned Caitlyn, finally turning on her heels in fury. "I can't prove it yet, but mark my words, I will get to the bottom of this. Every Templar who was on duty in the Circle last night will be questioned. Consider that, mage! Whoever helped you, whatever traitors in the Templar Order abjured their holy duties to smuggle the elf out, they will pay the price for it!" With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
Petrice waited until she had had enough time to leave the Chantry before saying, still keeping her voice low, "So your friend was upset on behalf of her old clan, I take it, and got herself caught, in her carelessness from this distress."
Caitlyn glared at her. "Even if she is not one of them anymore, they are the people she spent much of her life with. Of course she was sympathetic to them. And Meredith has been after her for quite some time."
"That is unfortunate, because she will have to live in hiding so long as Meredith is in power. And I do hope that the Templars who were involved in the escape are not found out, because Meredith will execute them if one of them does give up the others."
Caitlyn winced. "I'm sure they wouldn't do that. She doesn't have the right to torture them, though, does she?"
"No. Not Templars. But when does not having the right to do something stop her from doing it anyway?"
Caitlyn had to make sure that she was hooded, her identity well-concealed, when she entered the Hanged Man; otherwise she would be mobbed. She missed the days in which she could just duck into the pub and have a round with her friends without having to hide her face, but those days were gone now. Sighing, she went upstairs to Varric's room, knocked in code, and let herself in when he admitted her.
Merrill was in the large room with him, a separate bed pulled into the place and most of her remaining possessions piled into a heap near it. They had put up a privacy screen between her little corner and Varric's area. She was no longer wearing the Chantry robes; she had put on some of her Dalish clothing once more, but she still looked utterly wretched and miserable. When Caitlyn sat down in an empty chair, she gazed at her, eyes wide and sad.
"I'm sorry about last night," Merrill said in a whisper. "I shouldn't have said what I did at the last, to you or to Anders."
Caitlyn wanted to hug her, but she did not dare do it herself, choosing to let Merrill decide when she was comfortable with that. "It's all right," she said instead. She gazed compassionately at her friend. "You weren't wrong about a lot of it."
"I shouldn't have lashed out at him. It was not his fault, and the situations are not identical. His Justice"—Caitlyn noticed the use of the spirit's original name this time, rather than its demon name—"is cloudy and ambiguous, but does have a good side, a spirit side. Audacity was nothing but a demon."
"Was that what it came to call itself?" she said gently.
She nodded. "It was grown well beyond pride. The poor Keeper... I cannot believe she's gone. She gave her life for me, and she didn't have to. I shouldn't have turned to the demon. It wasn't the only way." Merrill began to cry into her open palms. "I should have trusted that you would get me out, but I was so afraid..."
"It's a horrible place," Caitlyn said. "You weren't wrong to be afraid... but we did plan how to get you out as soon as we learned what had happened."
Merrill sobbed.
"You also weren't wrong about what you said to me," she continued, feeling ashamed. "I did write a loose, permissive treaty in order to appease the Grand Cleric, whom I needed on my side, and because I didn't understand the point of view of your people and didn't ask you about it first. I'm sorry. I talked with her about it this morning, and she agreed to tell her people to treat your clan better—to change the things that offended the clan so much."
Merrill hiccuped as she tried to stop crying. "I know that you didn't do it on purpose to harm them. I know you meant well. Maybe this is the only way it can work."
"I never wanted to harm them," Caitlyn said, compassion filling her words. "But I asked them to compromise too much, and so this morning, I made arrangements for the Chantry folk to compromise as well." She sighed heavily. "I hope it can work with these revisions. I don't know. I wanted to protect them rather than to make them vulnerable. I hope it's not impossible to do that, that conflict is not the only possible outcome in cases like these."
"I do not know. The Keeper... she was so wise. She understood. She understood your viewpoint and reasoning... and she is gone now. The new Keeper is someone they have known for only half a year. How can we assume he will be as wise as she was?" A tear trickled down her face at what she had lost, the chance to be the Keeper herself. "But then... he was a mage of that Circle, and his wife was of the alienage. That might help him to understand your reasons too, and to calm the clan rather than lashing out." She wrapped her arms around her sides, swaying slightly. "They gave the Keeper a Dalish burial and planted a tree over her. They... were not happy to see me, carrying her body... but they paid their respects to her. They did far better by her than I did," she choked out. "It's my fault that she died, not yours. I am sorry for saying that to you last night." She raised her gaze to Caitlyn's face. "Will you be my friend again? I know I don't deserve it..."
That was too much. Caitlyn cried out in dismay, wanting to hug Merrill. "Don't say that! That's not true at all! We both made mistakes... but we've acknowledged them, and we're going to try to do better now. That's no reason to think you don't deserve to be my friend!" She gazed at Merrill pleadingly. "I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me."
Merrill let out a whimper, but an affirmative one. She finally closed the distance between them, allowing Caitlyn to hug her. Varric eased into the background, smiling contentedly at his writing desk.
At last the two women broke apart and faced each other. "We need to think about your safety," Caitlyn said, her tone very serious now. "If Meredith finds you again, it will be horrible. She was acting literally insane with rage this morning. I've never seen anything like it, even from her."
Merrill sighed heavily, looking unhappy again. "I suppose I should not go back to the alienage house."
"Probably not. And I'm not sure how safe this room actually is, either. The Hanged Man gets a lot of traffic, and not all of it is friendly."
Varric spoke up again. "I was thinking about that too. I haven't wanted to live there, for all sorts of reasons, but I do own a Hightown house, and perhaps I should finally suck it up and move in."
Merrill glanced down. "I don't know what Carver would think of that..."
"If Carver doesn't trust your word that you are just sheltering in a very large house with a close friend whom we all know, then he doesn't deserve you, even though he is my brother," Caitlyn said firmly. "But if you aren't comfortable with it—for reasons that aren't related to him—then I'm sure you could live with my mother and family. Or you could go to the Keep."
Merrill considered. "I think I would rather live with your mother. It is nothing to do with you, Varric—but I met your cousin, Caitlyn. She is an interesting person and seemed to like me. She also knows people in this... group... with a very peculiar name, Red something, and some of them are elves. I could still help the elves by working with them."
Caitlyn managed a smile. "We'll do that, then. I'm so glad that you're safe, Merrill—and I never want you to be in danger again."
She was nervous about getting in touch with Thrask too soon after the escape, but she was worried about what Meredith might have done to the good Templars to find out who had assisted Merrill. Before leaving the pub, she arranged for a covert meeting in Hightown via Varric. Thrask was looking very grim and serious when they did meet.
Caitlyn lowered her hood, unnerved at once by the expression on his face. "What happened?" she said, her heart pounding, afraid of what she might hear. "Please tell me that Meredith didn't—"
"She didn't put anyone to death," Thrask assured her at once, "but she wants to. She does have an idea of who the most mage-sympathetic Templars are, unfortunately."
"What did she do? If you don't mind... if it isn't too much..."
"She selected three of the youngest of that group, my group, and horse-whipped them for 'letting the mage escape.' Their backs were bloodied." Caitlyn gasped, covering her mouth, as he continued. "She forbade them from seeing Healers, saying that they needed to feel the punishment for their sin of sloth—or 'perhaps an even worse sin,' she said—but the mages slipped them elfroot, and it helps." He sighed. "No one in my group seems inclined to give up the others, at least. They still believe in what they are doing and know that this is a risk that they assume... and I also think they realize that Meredith would likely execute the tattletale in addition to the others. She is... not inclined toward rewarding a minor display of loyalty, Your Grace."
"I think I finally understand what you meant before when you said that her behavior actually disturbed you. What I saw this morning... well, even for her, it was bad. Take care of each other," Caitlyn urged him. "You're doing the right thing, and you are not alone. Your suffering, your hard work, matters. You have friends. Don't let her get to you."
When Caitlyn finally returned home to the Keep, she was feeling tired again. She realized that she had not gotten enough sleep the previous night, especially considering how much she had done the day before and this day. At least I have a chance now of relaxing, she thought as the guards stepped aside and she walked inside the outer Keep.
"You have guests," said Ser Donnic, a mild smile on his face.
"Oh?" she repeated, feeling a slight headache coming on at the thought that she still had to do something for someone. "Who?"
"The Selbrechs," he said. "They brought their daughter. She is almost exactly of an age with your son, and apparently they have spent the afternoon playing with the animals."
Caitlyn was very surprised, and she hoped that Mal had not decided to show off for his new friend that he could do magic. Surely Anders would have told him to be careful. She hurried inside the inner Keep and into the large family room, where Anders was watching Mal and a brown-haired little girl play tug with Baldwin. Pounce was sitting on his lap with a look of disdain on his feline face, and across the room, Ser Marlein and her husband were also seated. They rose when Caitlyn entered the room.
"Mother!" exclaimed Mal, dropping the dog toy, a dowel with a thick string and a ball of rags at the end. "This is Antonia!" He beamed at the girl, who was still entranced with the mabari. "Can she visit again? We had fun!"
Caitlyn laughed and bade her guests sit, as she did as well. "Of course! I'm so glad that you have made a friend."
Ser Marlein spoke up. "We came to tell Your Grace that the Margrave of Markham, a distant cousin of mine, is becoming interested in an alliance with Kirkwall."
"Is that official?" Caitlyn said, surprised. "That's great news! We have had a rough time of it lately. This is a good change!"
"It's not official yet, but the word through my family 'grapevine' is that he is very concerned about what may happen to his city and his University if revanchism wins out in the Chantry," she said. "Markham is a very civilized, cultured place, and retrograde people always come for the learned eventually. He knows that... but at the moment, I think he is equally frightened of the fact that you are a mage and he doesn't want to be seen as extending the hand first. I would recommend that you invite them to send an envoy... or send one of your own. I would volunteer for that, of course..."
"Of course," she agreed at once. She gazed at the children with a pang. "I have to say, though, that my son is not a trading piece. My mother chose, I chose, and I want him to have the chance to choose. And if Anders and I ever have more children, that holds for them too. Besides, by blood, Mal is only a quarter Kirkwaller. You know how provincial this city can be. Politically... well..." She trailed off, not wanting to think of her child all grown up and old enough to marry. It won't be for at least ten years, she thought, sharing a pained look with Anders.
Ser Marlein suppressed a knowing smile at the sight of the children playing. "I understand. When the time comes, you want him—and any other children you may have—to choose someone they know and like, which will mean someone from Kirkwall, and that is also the wise thing to do politically. Besides, the Margrave only has a son too... and, no offense, most foreign heads of state would be leery of the fact that both of you are mages. They probably only would consider him when he is older—if he doesn't show magic by then."
Anders and Caitlyn exchanged a glance so quick that no one else noticed. At least his being a mage is good for that, she thought in that instant.
"But the positive side is that I think you will get to give your children the freedom you want them to have," she said with a smile. "I think I could discuss it with de Launcet, if you don't object. He really hoped to find Orlesian matches for his daughters, and apparently he told them that he would get noble husbands for them with manors in Val Royeaux—but then came back empty-handed. That was a part of why he was disappointed. He knew he would have to face their wrath and tears."
"Oh, for..." Caitlyn almost burst out laughing. "Between the four of us adults in this room, I pity any man who has to put up with either of them! But I don't object if the de Launcets don't!"
Finally Caitlyn was able to settle down for the night. Anders had hoped that she would feel energetic enough for lovemaking, because he was feeling very affectionate and tender toward her after needing to comfort her that morning, but it became apparent very quickly that she was not up to it. He swallowed his disappointment and focused on cuddling and holding her close.
"I'm sorry," she murmured as she let him pull her next to him, suppressing a yawn as his arms wrapped around her. "You wanted..."
"Only if you will enjoy it," he said. He kissed the top of her head, closing his eyes briefly for it, and caressed her scalp, fingers threading through her silky red hair. "But you look exhausted."
"I am," she admitted.
"You didn't get enough sleep last night, and then you had to work hard today as well. Rest, love. We'll have other times."
A faint, sleepy smile formed on her face as he stroked her hair gently.
Caitlyn girded herself for an unceasing stream of tumult, based on Meredith Stannard's outrageous reaction to Merrill's escape, the recent events involving the attack on the clinic and the vicious retaliation upon innocent Templars, the tensions with the Dalish, the disappearance of Mettin's mob, and the brewing foreign conflict—which, she reluctantly and dourly had to agree with Anders, was starting to look very much like the prelude to war. But she was wrong. In the coming weeks and months, most of these situations instead entered an uneasy peace.
Merrill seemed to settle in at her new home reasonably well. Caitlyn was not entirely reassured that Meredith would never demand to search the Amell house, but for now, it was as safe as anywhere could be for Merrill. Charade—whose "group" was called Friends of Red Jenny, for some reason—had indeed become friends with Merrill, and whatever the "Red Jennies" actually did, Charade had apparently learned quite a lot about subterfuge from them. She was able to get Merrill to and from frequent meetings with the alienage hahren to discuss goings-on in the neighborhood. Although Merrill was not confident enough to openly rejoin the Small Council—and Caitlyn did not want to endanger her either—it was at least an excellent way to keep Caitlyn informed of the elves' specific concerns. Merrill was still not wholly happy or content with this task, which had little to nothing to do with bringing back Dalish traditions, but Caitlyn hoped that she would eventually find her peace.
"I get through each day, and that's enough at the time," Merrill explained to her and Anders one night that autumn. She sighed. "And days add up."
They shared a knowing, sympathetic look before turning back to her. "That's all any of us can do," said Anders.
To Caitlyn's absolute astonishment, the Chantry folk actually left the Sundermount after two months of failure to convert any of the Dalish to their religion. The lead priest, the very one who had given the Chantry's side of the initial conflict to Caitlyn that dark day, had led the group back into Kirkwall with a resigned, aloof look on her face. "We cannot force them to accept the Maker and Andraste," she said to Caitlyn upon her return with an air of washing her hands of the matter. "If they refuse to hear us, our presence does no good and only hardens them against the Maker. Between us, Viscountess Hawke, we are quite sure that this new Keeper is a former Circle mage, but perhaps that will work in the Maker's favor. He works in mysterious ways, and a mage can certainly be His instrument, as you know well. We left copies of the Chant of Light and the encyclicals of some of the Divines. If they use them for kindling, they are the ones who will have to answer to the Maker for the desecration."
It was something, at least. However long this truce lasts, Caitlyn thought after the priest made her report, it has brought peace for the time being.
Following this, Varric brought more good news to the Small Council. "The word on the street is that the trouble early in our Hawke's reign was actually the fault of Mettin, Meredith, Elthina, and their mob," he reported.
"Which it was," said Anders at once, glowering at the tabletop.
"We know that, but many people would have blamed it on the fact that she was a mage. 'See, mages aren't meant to rule and this is a judgment upon us!' But now, people are saying that if Hawke is just left well enough alone to do her duty, life in Kirkwall is... normal. And by that they appear to mean what it was like before the Qunari even arrived."
"That's excellent news," Caitlyn exclaimed. "I was getting worried for a while that I would have to fight insurrection attempts all the time, and people do weary of the constant threat of violence and turbulence, whoever is to blame for it."
"I am glad of the peace, but I don't trust it," said Anders with an apologetic look at her. "Where are Mettin and his followers? They didn't die... unfortunately," he muttered. "They went somewhere. Where, and what are they plotting? And why haven't we heard anything about Meredith's activities since... the incident with Merrill?"
Caitlyn stared ahead, wishing that he had not brought this up... but on the other hand, she thought, he is right that this won't disappear just because we want it to. "Most likely, they went to Starkhaven, Tantervale, or Hercinia," she said. "Who else would accept them?"
"And that's the problem. If they went to any of those places, I doubt they did it to seek sanctuary and live in peace. They are plotting something."
"If they come back to Kirkwall with any arms, armor, or additional numbers from those cities, I am taking it as an act of war," Caitlyn said firmly. She gazed out at the Small Council. "And I presume that Sebastian, Elthina, the Grand Clerics, and the puppet lord Chancellor of Tantervale are intelligent enough to understand that."
"Which means that if they do come back, it probably won't be with any open, visible evidence of foreign backing," pointed out Aveline.
"They are not welcome here either way. There is still an arrest warrant for Mettin. His mob can, unfortunately, insinuate themselves into the general population, but fanatics cannot keep their mouths shut, and they will make their presence known inevitably. I won't tolerate a resurgence. They had better stay wherever they are!"
One thing did become unfortunately clear soon after that. It had taken a couple of months, but at last, as Satinalia approached, a blistering broadsheet making its way through the Free Marches, Antiva, Rivain, Nevarra, and all the way to the Anderfels reached Kirkwall—a document written by the self-styled "Grand Cleric in Exile of Kirkwall, Elthina" and signed by the secular rulers of the three allied Marcher cities. Notably, it did not include signatures of the official Grand Clerics, who might finally rouse Divine Justinia to anger by declaring their endorsement of a person whom the Divine had cast out of the priesthood, but there was no doubt in Caitlyn's or Anders' mind that they supported the message and the messenger.
.
We, the undersigned Alliance of the Faithful, hereby declare before our Maker and all of His people our supreme and holy disapproval of the so-called Viscountess of Kirkwall, Caitlyn Hawke, an apostate mage, heretic, and usurper. She defies the Chant of Light and our Prophet's proscription on mage rule by her occupancy of the Kirkwall Keep, but unfortunately this is not the only offense we charge to her or her allies.
With the aid and collaboration of the current so-called Grand Cleric of Kirkwall, Petrice Durand of Orlais, and without consulting first with the Divine, Hawke has set mages loose among the people in Kirkwall, resulting in a shocking act of violence in the Keep itself.
Hawke's husband, the former Grey Warden mage Anders, used magic to put Templars to death, accusing them of crimes without evidence. Hawke upheld these actions before the Knight-Vigilant and a Seeker.
The so-called Viscountess is, as a lifelong apostate herself, also an unrepentant shelterer of other apostates, beginning with the mage Anders in Dragon 9:27, who got her with child out of wedlock during an unlawful escape from the Fereldan Circle of Magi. More recently she is suspected of helping a Dalish elf heathen unlawfully escape Kirkwall's Circle.
We, the Alliance of the Faithful, condemn these irreligious and wicked actions. We fear that the Maker may lift His hand of protection from Kirkwall for its support of this magisterial Viscountess, and we further fear that the free city risks becoming a viper's nest of heresy if it does not change its course. We pray that the people of Kirkwall remember their duty to their Maker, Prophet, and true Chantry.
.
"This is a call for the people of Kirkwall to oust me," Caitlyn said when she and Anders learned about the broadsheet. "And—look at this! Meredith is corresponding with Elthina, beyond any doubt. There is no other way that Elthina could know about Merrill."
"You're right," Anders said. "Obviously." He closed his eyes momentarily, thinking. Is it time to do something about my list of enemies? he wondered. Or would that just be the spark that ignites war? But this is a trio of foreign leaders and an exiled traitor calling, not very subtly, for an insurrection to overthrow her—to kill her, my beloved wife and partner, and probably our son too. This itself is arguably an act of war.
"I don't know what to do about it," Caitlyn confessed. "The Grand Clerics of those cities did not sign it, but I would bet my life that they back it. They are playing a clever game, when you think about it. If we attack first, we are the aggressors. But this language is bellicose. They are trying to start a war without actually striking the first blow."
"I was thinking the same thing," he said. "But if we don't strike first, they might. And I... I can't bear thinking of that." He winced, suddenly looking very vulnerable. "That assassin bombed the clinic, almost killing all of us. Meredith captured Merrill. They will try to attack you again. They might even target Mal. He's just a child," Anders said, his voice cracking. "He's an innocent child... but he is the child of mages, and that's all that these horrid people care about. I can't stand to think of losing you, either of you. I don't care about myself—"
"I do, though! So you'd better care about yourself, for me!" she exclaimed.
He managed a weak smile. "You have a point. They will target all of us, and all it takes is one successful attempt. Just one. Maybe we should strike first."
She turned aside, closing her eyes, wincing. What was the best thing to do? Were they ready for a war? They had allies in Ferelden and Markham now, but they did not yet have the critical Minanter-controlling alliance that they would need to truly cripple Starkhaven and Tantervale. And Kirkwall could barely defend itself against the Qunari, she thought miserably. How could we muster the soldiers to fight a war? We have a City Guard. Thrask might lead some Templars to fight for us, but most of them will side with the enemy, based on Anders' list. We'll be fighting armed, trained warriors inside our own walls. Ferelden has a standing army, but are we really going to ask Ferelden to do it for us, so soon after their own war and the Blight? Would Divine Justinia finally declare an Exalted March to support us... or would that not be politically possible if Kirkwall attacked first?
"We can't fight this war yet," she finally said, misery in her words. "There are enemies inside the gates, Anders. Meredith has a force of enemy soldiers in the Gallows. And if we attack first, Justinia probably will not be able to send an Exalted March in our defense. Unless we can get the entire Circle and probably quite a lot of the apostates to fight, I don't see how we win right now without a standing army backing us, and without Justinia, that leaves the Fereldans. And the treaty I have with them does not require them to fight for us in a war of aggression."
He set down the broadsheet on the table and embraced her unhappily. "What are you going to do, then?" he croaked. That list of names nagged at him... crossing off those names would at least eliminate the enemy threat within...
She took a shuddering breath. "I'm going to make utterly sure our security at the Keep is as good as it can be, magically and physically. I'm going to ask Varric and everyone to keep their ears to the ground for rumors of Mettin's group returning to town. That is what I fear most, that they will sneak back in."
Anders shuddered. "I'll help you make the wards stronger. Maker—if anything happened to you or Mal, if she even tried, I would start the war myself."
She held him tightly. "I would do the same."
As Dragon 9:35 grew cool and the year approached its end, news and rumors from abroad continued to reach Kirkwall. Fenris and Isabela sent another letter—this one from the seas off Tevinter, where they were still hunting for Fenris's former master to exact revenge. They meant to return to Kirkwall sometime the following year, Isabela wrote.
One day, when the leaves had turned brown and the air now carried a sharp chill, a dwarven merchant who had come from Ferelden to trade with the Merchants' Guild bore a bit of gossip from the old country: Ferelden might have its heir after all. Although the Crown would not confirm or deny it this early, Queen Anora was rumored to be two months gone with child.