Veins of Blue Lightning

by Gene Dark

AU DAI. It is 9:37, and the Circles have voted for independence. Anders has struck the first blow in Kirkwall and is now commanding the mages at Andoral's Reach. Knight Commander Rylock fights to defend the Circle of Haven, including her mage parents and mage daughter, from Red Templars. Rillian Tabris and Alistair seek to cure taint, and Lambert Hawke and Fenris fight Venatori.

1. Chapter 1: The Centre Cannot Hold

Trigger warnings for a reference to the rape of Eleanor Cousland by Howe's men and the torture of my nonWarden (now King) Cousland by Howe. A reference to the torture of my Lambert Hawke by Alrik. A reference to the rape of my OC Rylock that resulted in a child. I haven't described any of it in detail – and won't - I just wanted to warn people. These events happened in Death and the Maiden and Lights in the Shadow but nothing like that will happen in this fic. Cousland/Hawke/Rylock - and, as we know from canon, Fenris - have the memories, but they also have the love of family and friends and are survivors.

Chapter One: The Centre Cannot Hold

Song is Pipers of Transylvania: Palästinalied (Walther von der Vogelweide, XIII Century)

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

(Yeats: The Second Coming)

Midsummer 9:37

"My Lords, although I appreciate the limitations of my natural ability, I cannot deny that my experience as a Templar has been considerable. And, whatever benefit can be extracted from any or all of my qualifications, I feel duty bound to place at the disposal of Divine Justinia."

A very good beginning, Sweeney thought with satisfaction – remembering the hours of coaching, Ellen's fear (though she would never say it out loud) that the beginnings of lyrium dementia would come for her at precisely the wrong moment). To Sweeney, his daughter looked very small, standing alone out there in the middle of all that space: a tiny armoured knight on a vast expanse of black and white squares, like a chess piece in a game between gods (or God, she would say, disliking the blasphemy). She was dwarfed by the enormous pillars holding up the roof of the cathedral in Val Royeaux, by the ostentatious grandeur. Stained glass in the windows. Vivid paintings on the walls (particularly vivid was the one depicting the burning of heretics by Divine Amara III). Tier upon tier of stone seats, all packed with people.

Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves was wearing his finest clothes: blue and gold and purple. Beside him, Grand Cleric Iona looked rather like a reliquary; so bedecked in stiff robes and studded with precious stones it seemed a wonder she could move at all. She had a particular way of walking – without any movement of her hips – reminding him of a chess piece gliding entirely on its own. And there was Knight Divine Gerard Caron – brother to Warden Commander Guilluame Caron, who had tried to have Rillian Tabris burned at the stake - resplendent in jade-green silks, as proudly impassive as a stone prophet on a Chantry doorway. So handsome he made everyone else look dull.

"My Lords," Ellen declared, "Andraste herself came from Denerim – said she had blessed the city, now ruled by King Cousland and Queen Anora. And if she said it, then we must agree, and anyone who condemns this doctrine must be in error. And, just as the Maker said to Andraste, "Fear not, for you are under my protection," so this King and Queen have made their country safe for the Circle of Haven and the true children of Andraste."

A rumble of disagreement from the Knight Divine.

Grand Cleric Iona said, "Knight Commander Rylock: you were chastised for your sin of pride at that very Landsmeet and you have again been misled. Queen Anora's sympathy for heretics is well-known: she has founded a so-called 'university' that admits even Elves - flawed children of the Maker – and her father tried to enlist the Blood Mage Uldred in his cause. Ferelden is a refuge for every kind of depraved doctrine."

"And is a child responsible for the sins of her father? Warden Loghain has paid for his crimes. Never, since taking the throne, has King Cousland allowed blood magic to flourish in Ferelden. Never was a Templar, engaged in holy duties, mistreated or robbed by any soldier of Ferelden. Who among you would dare to accuse him and say that, though he has not sinned, the Chantry must declare an Exalted March on his country?"

Ellen's voice was strong and compelling and her hand gestures were those Sweeney had trained into her: every line of her body seemed to emphasise the message she was delivering.

"Whether King Cousland is a heretic or not is of no concern to us," Lambert van Reeves declared, "what concerns us is his territory. We intend to take back Therinfall Redoubt – in the heart of Ferelden – and we condemn his alliance with Lord Nathaniel Howe, who is both Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall. Kirkwall is a pesthole of heretics – and I doubt the Viscount's tale that Knight Commander Meredith was responsible for the death of Grand Cleric Elthina."

At that, Ellen shuddered, as at a blow. Sweeney had guessed the two had loved each other a long time - forbidden, as was his own relationship with Ellen's mother - and all the stronger for its very undemonstrativeness. And Ellen, too, doubted Nathaniel Howe's version.

"If Nathaniel Howe – aided by First Talon Zevran of the Antivan Crows – is helping the rebel mages at Andoral's Reach – if they are shielding the abomination, Anders – then I agree that war is just. But leave Ferelden – leave the Circle of Haven – alone. Let Aequitarians and Loyalists remain our allies – let law-abiding mages get on with their lives. Do not make enemies where there need be none."

"And is not Nathaniel Howe also Arl of Amaranthine? Aid has flowed from Ferelden to Kirkwall and thus to Andoral's Reach."

And that was true, Sweeney knew. Enchanter Godwin had helped facilitate this just as he had helped the Mage's Collective during the Blight. Knight Captain Harith was probably in on it too – the whole thing was a mess, and Ellen too innocent to question. He felt disloyal for keeping the information from her – he also knew giving the Seekers a pretext to attack Haven would be monstrous.

"My Lord, you are unjust!" Ellen's voice was like a crack of thunder, "I call upon you to prove your claims against Ferelden!"

"I am sorry, Knight Commander, but this is not a court," Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves interrupted mildly, "We don't have to prove anything here. I am quite satisfied that King Cousland is a sinner and the Circle of Haven should be relocated to Orlais."

"And are we not all sinners? And is it not the duty of the Chantry to forgive sin?"

"All clerics forgive sin, in the name of the Maker. But that does not prevent them chastising the sinner or allowing the sin to continue."

Ellen took a deep breath and ploughed on. "Lord Seeker: is it not your duty to exact penances from Templars who are committing sins – as the Order failed to do when Ser Alrik tortured Lambert Hawke for his own pleasure – not to judge kings. Are we not the spiritual descendants of Andraste, who commanded us to claim for ourselves the duties of ministry, dissociated from temporal power and conflict?"

The Lord Seeker scowled terribly and glared at Ellen from beneath his furrowed eyebrows. Ellen didn't flinch.

"Do you question the Order? A Templar is to follow the Seekers – in this and in all other things."

"A Templar is always an Andrastian first and our first duty is to Divine Justinia."

"Knight Commander..."

"Who is more sinful than the man who casts the duty of a Seeker into worldly politics? These issues have their own judges: the kings and princes of this world. What is the point of such total war? Does it lead to life? No, for its end is destruction! Will these fighters be ennobled in flesh and blood? No, for flesh and blood will not inherit the Golden City!"

Ellen turned, briefly, and Sweeney could see her face: flushed, moist-eyed, the veins standing out on her temples like lightning. Her arms were raised and her hands were shaking – whether from passion or lyrium dementia he did not know – and her voice was clear.

But the Lord Seeker was unmoved. He turned to Grand Cleric Iona. "Have you anything to add, your Grace?"

"No."

Sweeney snorted. Ellen was looking very grim. Then Knight Divine Gerard Caron turned to her and – Sweeney got the feeling he was genuinely trying to offer her a way out – added, "Perhaps, Knight Commander Rylock, now that you have discharged your duty to the Circle of Haven with such skill and vigour, you may decide you have an even greater duty to the Templar Order. Perhaps you will take up the all-powerful and excellent arms of obedience, and leave the Circle of Haven to be dealt with as is just, and fight beside us as we retake Andoral's Reach?"

Sweeney sighed, thinking how tempting it had been for him – a lifelong Libertarian who hated the Chantry for what they had done to his wife and child – to join Irving and the others who had joined the rebel mages. He was not a Loyalist like first Enchanter Vivienne of Orlais – he was a rebel at heart. He and Ines had stayed for one reason only – to avoid fighting on the opposite side of their own daughter – taken from them as soon as Ines had given birth. They had not even allowed Ines to nurse the daughter they had named Ellen - had simply taken the baby to Amaranthine Chantry, renamed her Rylock, and raised her to hunt mages.

Sweeney and Ines had met Rylock, briefly, as an eighteen-year-old Templar sent to Kinloch Hold - had been sorry when that bastard Erimond had violated her during Remille's rebellion – but had not known who she was. Then Rylock had been sent to Aeonar – mandatory for all Templars touched by Blood Magic – and returned a year later: hollow-eyed, twitchy, always one miscast spell away from lethal violence. When she had volunteered for Kirkwall they had privately thought the Ferelden mages safer for it. Only twenty years later, when Knight Commander Rylock had led her Templars to fight alongside Wardens and mages during the Fifth Blight, had a chance remark shown them the truth. Just as Sweeney Trevelyan had been taken from his parents as soon as his magic manifested, so Rylock had been taken from them.

They had known it, then, but never dared tell her – the Chantry made it policy to break up mage families – but Rylock herself had realised when perusing the records of all her mage charges. She had apparently 'confessed' to Revered Mother Hannah and been told it was not a sin to continue serving in Haven alongside her mage parents.

Surely Ellen – Rylock, he reminded himself – would not actually change sides?

He could not see Ellen's face, only her high straight back, as she squared her shoulders and put her hands on her hips.

"My Lord," she said calmly, "In the words of Kordillus Drakon: I would rather have my bowels ripped out of my belly and laid upon a fire."

"Are you sure of that?" Lambert van Reeves asked with quiet malice, "The Nevarran Accord has been dissolved. Now that the mages have declared themselves enemies of the Chantry, no duty is owed between us and them. Even the Rite of Annulment itself – the conditions that had to met before it was judged lawful – are a mere survival of a bygone age. Only the sic volo sic jubeo remains. There will be no mercy for Haven, as there will be no mercy for Andoral's Reach: names like Aequitarian, Loyalist or Libertarian are words without meaning. They are all apostates. In defending apostates, you are setting your face against the Maker. You are joining the forces of evil."

Rylock raised an accusing hand and pointed her finger straight at the Lord Seeker. "In ending the Nevarran Accord you have dissolved duties between yourself and the Divine, as well as to the Circles. This Exalted March does not have the Divine's sanction. Justinia herself has said that mages are children of the Maker. If you murder mage children – and not in defence of others, because they have become abominations, but purely and only because of a vote by mage adults – then you are the one setting his face against the Maker."

She turned on her heel and it was like a signal, with everyone slipping from the chamber at once like multicoloured glass from a jar. So many people squeezing past him: smelling of sweat and garlic and rose oil. People treading on his heels and breathing in his face and pushing him against the wall. He found his wife – they found Enchanter Keili - and Rylock led the way as Loghain had done once: all knees and elbows and feet, parting the crowd like the Maker had parted the Minanter River.

"Knight Commander..."

"Over here, Keili."

"I want to tell you. I have to tell you. You're a great speaker – the greatest I've ever heard! What you said to the Lord Seeker..."

"...was a waste of time."

"But it was true! Every word."

"Well, I'm glad somebody thought so. This way, Keili – we have things to discuss."

Ellen led the way past flaring torches and milling people, endless rows of carved columns, looming shadows and murky stairs. This was Val Royeaux and Sweeney was lost already. Being virtually blind didn't help matters. Ellen dragged them into a doorway, out of the sweat and bustle.

"Listen carefully," she told Keili, "Because we haven't much time. I brought you to Val Royeaux for a reason. I would have left you in Haven, only I feared the worst. Things are going to get bad there. Very bad. That's why I think you should stay here: as apprentice to First Enchanter Vivienne. It's all been arranged."

What?

"But I don't want to stay here with First Enchanter Vivienne!"

"Keili. Listen to me. You were an apprentice at Redcliffe during the Fifth Blight. You don't know what it's going to be like. War is cruel and sieges can go on for months. You'll be much better off in Val Royeaux with First Enchanter Vivienne. She is a Loyalist, like you."

"The Lord Seeker just said that 'Loyalist' is a word without meaning."

"He is wrong. No man can, by bare will, change the meaning of words: of someone else's beliefs. In any case, Lady Vivienne is under the protection of Duke Bastien de Ghislain and the Empress herself. Things are different in Orlais." Ellen was frowning ever so slightly – it was clear she was not a supporter of the idea that mages of noble blood were more equal than others – but she understood the politics and was not above using it to Keili's advantage.

"No! Haven is my home!"

"Don't be a fool." Ellen's sternest voice. "I'm sorry. I know Val Royeaux is not like Ferelden, but you will learn a great deal from First Enchanter Vivienne. Besides, I'm on the wrong side of the fence now. You don't want to become an enemy of the Seekers, Keili. This Exalted March does not have the Divine's approval, but Justinia has not intervened."

"Then why aren't you joining it?"

Keili's question was perceptive, and Sweeney wondered how Ellen would answer. He could barely see her face: just the glitter of her eyes and the gleam of her helm.

"I suppose there are lots of reasons," she said finally. "Haven is my home. A mage-Templar community – I would not have thought it possible – but we have achieved great things, under protection of King Cousland and Queen Anora. I have not trusted the Seeker Order since I learned they kept the Litany of Adralla from us – and the fact Seeker training can render mages immune to possession. Secrets like that should not be kept to enhance the power of an organisation." A brief silence. "Anyway," she shrugged, "I couldn't fight for any cause that had Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves at its head. No matter how respectable it might be."

"Well, Haven is my home too, you know! And I think the Lord Seeker stinks!"

Ellen gave a very unTemplar-like snort of laughter.

---

"Hooray! The walls of Haven!"

Keili – who had succeeded in persuading Ellen to allow her to return – by virtue of the fact First Enchanter Vivienne also wished to join the defenders – was delighted. "Blessed be the Maker, my goodness and my fortress, my high tower and my deliverer, my shield and He in whom I trust..."

Ellen was smiling in recognition – Sweeney and Ines had tuned out by now. All around them were murmurs of joy and thanksgiving. The powerful mages had all followed Rhys and Fiona to Andoral's Reach – leaving the Tranquil and the mage children behind at the mercy of genocidal Seekers and Templars. The King and Queen of Ferelden had given them sanctuary. The only exception to this was Anders. Abomination he might be – according to Rylock – but Anders had at least taken the children and Tranquil of Kirkwall's Circle with him and was protecting them as best he could.

Ines had chuckled at the knowledge that Irving – who had always seemed so respectable – had finally grown a spine and joined the rebel mages – and completely understood why Wynne had too. Wynne, an Aequitarian who had opposed this rebellion from the start, was joining it because her son was there; Ines, a Libertarian who hated the Chantry for stealing her daughter, was in Haven for the same reason.

"All around us – murmurs of joy and thanksgiving – even from the Dalish," Keili remarked in wonder. "I don't know their language, so I can only judge from their smiles, and the way they move their hands. It's the first time they've smiled since they left the Dales – I suppose it must be hard to leave their homes behind. Still, they should be used to it by now. Didn't the Maker condemn them to wander forever? They're like the halla that find no pasture. I've never seen a Dalish Elf before and they're not quite what I expected. Even so, it would be easy to spot them in a crowd, because of the facial tattoos. I suppose that's why the King invited them here: to get them out of the Dales before the Lord Seeker's army arrives. If the army is trying to kill all the apostates, they might mistake the Dalish for apostates. I would have done that myself, if Senior Enchanter Leorah hadn't corrected me."

Ellen was peering ahead, at the towering walls of Haven, with the Penitent's Crossing on the side of Orlais and the valley on the side of Ferelden. They passed the long cool shadow of the crossing. Jagged battlements reared against the sunset; smoke rose from a thousand kitchen fires. A shepherd by the roadside – this one was a mage, but he'd been a farmer near Crestwood and had received permission to carry on his trade here – stopped and stared at the procession of flags and swords and horses, loose and straggling now, strung out along Sulcher's Pass over quite some distance.

"Maker, but I could do with a drink," Ines muttered. "A drink and a sleep and a good solid meal." She yawned until her jaw cracked and Sweeney reached across his horse and patted his wife's hand in sympathy. He felt exactly the same. Riding from Val Royeaux to Haven was no joke at over seventy years of age. "What about you, Sweeney? Care to empty a cask this evening?"

"I wish I could. But there's an army heading this way. Which means there'll be refugees. They'll want food and beds and clothing. All these things will have to be found."

"Is that your job?"

"It is now. I was First Enchanter Irving's deputy and Irving isn't here."

Ellen was looking at him as though she had never seen him before. "You are right. As Knight Commander and First Enchanter: that is our job now."

"Will you be moving into Irving's quarters?" Ines asked her husband sarcastically.

"Don't be silly."

And suddenly there was the Gate - the north-eastern gate – and they were surrounded by hordes of people. Men and women – pushing and shouting and snatching at their feet, tugging at their clothes, straining to catch their attention. The noise was thunderous.

"Knight Commander – what news?"

"Are they coming?"

"Maker help us!"

"Friends, have courage!" Ellen's voice was tired and hoarse, but authoritative. "The Lord Seeker's army is far away. He is foolishly dividing his forces between Andoral's Reach and here, in the opposite direction. He assumes the mages at Andoral's Reach will fold like cards, and he assumes we are a backwater manned by a skeleton crew of mages and Templars..."

He is not wrong, Sweeney thought privately, but would never say so. He had told Ellen that ending up an Act of Faith – a bonfire with all the trimmings – would not have been his preferred way to go, but they would at least have interesting stories to tell each other in the Golden City.

"... The Dales stand between them and this city. Your King is a valiant warrior with many brave soldiers. Be calm and return to your homes."

A surge of noise: questions and pleas and protests. Ellen frowned and tried again:

"Are you men or mice? Arm yourselves with hope, and strength, and trust in the Maker. The Chant of Light tells us that a just man, fearless as a lion, shall be without dread...take that woman away! She'll miscarry if you keep pushing her about like that! Haven't you people any sense?"

The townsfolk of Haven shrunk back like naughty children, scolded into silence. Really, Ellen was starting to sound more and more like Ines every passing year. Sweeney thought of the tongue-lashing he'd get if he mentioned that to either woman and smiled privately.

---

That night, Rylock went to confession – to Brother Rocald. During the Fifth Blight, Rocald had been a man-at-arms at Redcliffe. He had joined the Templar Order after his wife and daughter had died at the hands of the child abomination; their animated corpses sent out to attack the village at nightfall. He had fought demons and undead and darkspawn like a panther in a sheep pen. Only Rylock had been able to look him in the eye for long. Rocald had been a Templar Sergeant for five years – until taking vows last summer. He was Rylock's favourite confessor because he didn't let tiresome things like her rank get in the way of chastising her.

Rylock confessed sins old and new – the murder of Aneirin (judged lawful by the Chantry because the fourteen-year-old had been frightened into using Blood Magic, but murder nonetheless) the fact she had never stood up to the woman she had loved - had simply left for Denerim when Meredith's actions had struck her as wrong – that drunken night with Loghain and Wynne by the Drakon River.

And now, to add to the collection, the fact she had opened and read Lambert Hawke's correspondence with his cousin, Thomas Amell, guessed the 'possessed but not an abomination' mage had to be Anders – and told Meredith. She had assumed Lord Hawke would get a gentle interview with Grand Cleric Elthina in the Chantry; instead, a panel of three – Grand Cleric Elthina, Knight Commander Meredith and Knight Captain Cullen - had judged him guilty of being an apostate shielding an abomination and let Alrik go to work.

And the fact she had known for five years that the young mage she had put through the Harrowing – the young woman Rylock had tried to get out of Haven – was her own biological child. And never told her. She had asked Mother Hannah – who had been born into the Golden City last summer – what to do and been told it was no sin to remain Knight Commander of her mage parents and mage daughter so long as she treated them professionally. Rylock had assumed 'professional treatment' had included not sharing the knowledge – how would it help Keili to know her biological father was a Blood Mage and a rapist? - but had lately started to wonder whether her motives had been that pure.

Because sharing the knowledge with Keili would have included the fact she could have left the Templar Order after getting out of Aeonar – forsaking her vows and going through lyrium withdrawal but doing right by her child – found out which Chantry had taken her in and gotten her out. She had not known Keili had also been raised by Mother Leanna – with as much tenderness as that woman had shown Rylock - but she had never tried to find out.

"These are all the abominations of those filthy bastards," Brother Rocald growled – 90% proof through the grille – all foulness of mouth excused if employed in execration of the Magisters Sidereal, "those shit-eating fathers of sin. You know this, don't you?"

"Yes, Brother."

"You know Alrik raped mages – you know you should have done right by Keili - you know the Lord Seeker is going to kill every mage child he finds."

"Yes."

"Yes? Then stop being such a fucking gutless streak of piss and fight like the dog you are! Are you the dog for the fight or not?"

"I am, Brother."

"Who's that whispering?"

"I AM, Brother!"

"Well, that's more like it. Now, for your penance: you'll find Hawke and beg his forgiveness, you'll tell Keili the truth, and beg forgiveness for not fetching her from that Chantry, and you'll defend Haven with your life. Nor will you take a drop of lyrium for two weeks solid, understand?"

"Clear."

"For tis in the drugged state the Lord Seeker finds us ready to his hand. You know this, don't you, you miserable dog? If you are going to stand up to the Seekers you'd better wean yourself off their leash."

"I will."

Rylock left the confessional feeling better for having a path. She had no idea how she was going to stop taking lyrium after nearly thirty years – no idea how she was going to find Hawke – but she could do the other thing at once.

Keili, like Rylock, had been raised by the Chantry, which meant she would know her soul belonged to the Maker, regardless of who her parents had been. Blood Magic was not hereditary. Nor was evil. Magic was – which was why the Chantry preferred to train the children of mages as Templars: apparently having mage parents tended to make Templars resistant to lyrium addiction and dementia. Rylock had learned by chance why that was. She would never forget Wynne's taunt:

"You Templars aren't using holy powers – you're low-level, artificially-created mages fuelled by lyrium."

That had long ago lost its sting: Rylock knew very well that, any Templar ability she could cast, a Thaumaturgist like Sweeney could do better. So what? So long as both were using their magic in service to the Maker why worry? She had insisted the Haven apprentices be taught that, as the Maker had caused them to be born with magic, it was not a sin. But she knew very well – from how hard it had been to break the conditioning of her own childhood – that a mage child raised by Mother Leanna would have grown up hating herself.

And there was nothing Rylock could do to take that back. Never, in all worlds, was there one where she had raised Keili and taught her to value herself. The Maker could make good use of everything that happened. But the loss was real. Ines had fought like a tigress when the Chantry took her baby - so Wynne had told her – Rylock had never questioned it, never tried to find her child.

Creeping horror came to her as she remembered things long forgotten from her own childhood. The scars on her back had never bothered her – looking backward into childhood had seemed a pointless exercise – now she remembered Leanna inflicting them (like Erimond, Leanna had mixed up pain and pleasure in her head) and shuddered at the knowledge that Keili had endured the same. And possibly worse, the day she was found to have magic. Leanna had contacted the Templars, of course – but it would have taken them two days to get there. Keili would have those memories for the rest of her life. By leaving her in Amaranthine Chantry, Rylock might as well have wrecked half her face with an iron.

Her hand shaking slightly, Rylock handed Keili the slip of parchment. She had been going to slip away – to let Keili read it in private – then it occurred to her that was only a cowardly way of dodging responsibility. If Keili wished to judge her for leaving her in the 'care' of Mother Leanna she had that right. As Rylock no longer held power over mages – when Lambert van Reeves had dissolved the Nevarran Accord both Keili and Rylock had become merely citizens of Ferelden, living at Haven because it was their home. If Keili wished to excoriate her for her choices, Rylock would have to endure the judgement.

Keili read the parchment in silence. Then straightened suddenly, as if struck. "I... I see it now. That is why you wished me to remain in Val Royeaux, is it not?" She whirled away from Rylock and stood at the end of the battlements.

Rylock froze: amazed, confused. What was in Keili's heart, to make her feel so?

When Keili returned, she held herself stiffly, and spoke with constraint. "I see it now. But I will not stay here on those terms. Even more than staying in Haven, I... I want to be..." She stopped, flustered, then rushed on, "I won't stay here and be a thorn in your side! How can you be so kind to me? Does it not gall you to look at me? I will not stay here and remind you of that Blood Mage! I would sooner go to Andoral's Reach!"

Startled, abashed, Rylock said softly, "Don't say that. I can't bear to have you apologise to me. You didn't choose to be born. You are an innocent child of the Maker. I could have left the Templar Order after I got out of Aeonar – could have found out which Chantry had taken you – could have raised you on my own and been the mother every child deserves. You have a right to demand just treatment from the woman who bore you. You have a right to be angry for those long years of neglect. It seems...very idle to say I am bitterly sorry. I cannot undo it but I beg your pardon with an abject heart."

Keili stood, astounded. She stared at Rylock as if she were a demon from the Abyss. Rylock lost her composure before those eyes and had to look away.

"I am not angry. But I need to know. Do I remind you of him?"

"No," Rylock said, truthfully, "When I look at you, I am not thinking of Erimond. You are yourself, of course – the Maker's child – but you also remind me a little of Senior Enchanter Sweeney. Sweeney and Ines are my parents - which means they are your grandparents. You should stay here in Haven, Keili. It is where you belong."

Keili nodded. "I will," she said – in a voice so soft and low Rylock had to strain to hear it. "First Enchanter Vivienne is teaching me the way of the Knight Enchanter. I will defend Haven with my life."

And while Rylock stood, a little startled by the young woman's fervour, Keili nodded, turned on her heel, and left.

---

Keili and her best friend – Sister Lily – were listening to a terrible noise: a screeching, groaning, crackling noise, like the roar of a dying dragon.

"This seems to go on and on..."

Crash!

The very foundations of Haven's Chantry shuddered, as a dozen pews collapsed onto the stone floor. A cloud of dust caught them by the throat and they gagged.

"Good!" Rylock exclaimed, "That's done it! Now, be careful, because I don't want any wood split. Use your tools, not your hands. And stack it over here." Her Templar armour was covered with sawdust. "Come on!" she cried when several Chantry clerics appeared to be slacking, "Move it!"

Slowly, reluctantly, the clerics began to move. Chancellor Roderick picked his way gingerly through the planks, clacking his tongue and shaking his head, while the mages – Adan the Alchemist in particular – went about the task with goodwill and vigour. Keili wondered why he seemed to be enjoying this so much. He swung his axe, wrenched apart joinery, and soon the Chantry pews were reduced to neat lengths of board. He reminded Keili of a mathematician reducing the world to a set of linear equations.

"Keili!" Rylock handed her a flat plank of oak, "Put this with the rest, please."

"Yes, ser."

"Chancellor Roderick. Don't just stand there! Why aren't you helping? We'll need all the help we can get if we're to get this done before the evening's service."

"How can we have a service if we have no pews?"

"Are you too proud to stand, Chancellor? We're doing this for the good of Haven. Haven must be protected."

"Our prayers will protect Haven much better than our pews," Roderick protested.

Rylock took a deep breath. "Don't you understand? We have to build battlements along the Crossing, so we can protect the base from enemy sappers. Maker preserve us, haven't you read Drakon's account of the Siege of Weisshaupt? I thought you were an educated man!"

Roderick puffed up like a bantam, full of his own importance. Keili and Lily exchanged glances and giggled.

Keili did sometimes wonder why they were both here, about to give their lives in defence of Haven. She, at least, was a mage – Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves had made it clear there was no safety for mages in Thedas – Lily had no reason to fight for the former Circle of Ferelden. Why did she choose to fight for Rylock? Rylock had saved Lily from Aeonar but as she was an agent of the organisation that had put her there it felt wrong to be too grateful.

Rylock was Keili's biological mother but - as Rylock herself had said - had done nothing for her when she could have. The only mercy Keili had ever had from her mother was the sword ready to kill her should she fail her Harrowing. Yet, somehow, they were here - because defending their community from Seekers and Templars coming to kill them was the right thing to do. And watching Rylock demolish the Chantry pews was…unexpectedly satisfying.

There was a knock on the Chantry door.

"Come in!" Rylock exclaimed. She sounded quite pleased to be interrupted. But when the door swung open she stiffened.

"Thomas Amell."

"Knight Commander," he muttered warily, "Keili and Lily. Working hard, I see?"

"Why are you here? After your speech persuaded the mages to vote Leave, I had assumed you would be at Andoral's Reach?"

Thomas looked pale and tired. He was wearing a simple brown tunic and trousers. Of course, wearing mage robes when riding across Orlais would have been suicide.

Keili had first met him when she was a thirteen-year-old girl brought to Kinloch Hold, horrified to find she had magic, knowing she must have done something wicked to be afflicted with something so terrible. Thomas had been two years younger but had been brought to the Tower when he was four. Not many mages manifested so early – the ones that did were usually the most powerful. He had always been kind to her, but she had been very afraid of kindness back then.

Lily and Thomas hugged each other tightly. They had been friends introduced by Jowan – separated when Jowan's actions had led to Thomas being made Tranquil and Lily being sent to Aeonar – reunited after Rylock had cured Thomas of Tranquility and rescued Lily.

His relationship with Rylock was complicated. Although Rylock had walked naked through fire to take the pinch of Sacred Ashes that had cured him, he always maintained he did not owe her for that – she had merely been righting an injustice inflicted by her Order. But he had spent months designing the complicated system that allowed the chambers inside Temple Mountain to circulate breathable air. Unlike all the other Circles in Thedas, theirs did not depend on magic. Thomas had designed it that way deliberately – his talent for engineering enhanced by his time as a Tranquil – so mages would never have power over non-mages in their community.

Although a powerful mage once more, Thomas' experiences as a Tranquil had shown him it was not only the Chantry who exploited them. The Lucrosian faction counselled making a quota of apprentices Tranquil each year so the Formari might make them money, and all the Senior Enchanters used them as servants. Forbidden to cook, choose their own clothes, go outside or keep their own children, they needed to feel superior to someone. Thomas disapproved.

But he was no ally of Rylock's. Keili had heard the gossip: he had confronted the Knight Commander after learning she had read his letter – that as a result his cousin had been tortured - and told her he would never forgive her. During the Conclave in Cumberland, four months ago, he had used his own experience of reversing Tranquillity - his own knowledge of Meredith's cruelties – to speak in favour of Grand Enchanter Fiona. Senior Enchanter Wynne – hero of the Fifth Blight – would have persuaded the mages to vote Remain, but Thomas' speech had tipped the scales. Keili had never thought he would return here.

"Researcher Minaeve and I left Andoral's Reach when we realised none of the mages had brought their children. They voted Leave and left all the children and Tranquil in their Circles to face the consequences! Only Anders and Evelina – they brought the children and Tranquil from Kirkwall and protected them. No one else did. We went to the Circle at Val Royeaux and tried to help them – we did manage to rescue some of the prisoners at the White Spire – a young mage named Cole. Cole and Minaeve are at Flissa's tavern. They asked me to tell you because... well, they are too disturbed to tell you themselves."

Oh no. What can this be?

Rylock leaned forward. "What's happened?" she asked softly.

Thomas sighed. He looked down at the floor. In that moment, he looked much, much older than his twenty-five years.

"It's the White Spire," he said. "They took it a week ago, on Midsummer Eve."

Thomas suddenly raised his eyes. They were pouchy and red-rimmed. "Perhaps," he suggested to Rylock, "It would be better if Lily and Keili left the Chantry."

Rylock's hands fell to her sides like a marionette with its strings cut. "Left the Chantry?" she echoed faintly, "Oh Maker..."

"No! We have a right to know!"

"In time. Off you go, now. Let Thomas and I discuss this in private."

"I have to know! You have to tell me!"

"Keili! Get out of here! Now."

"The children are dead, aren't they? They're all dead, every one of them?"

A shocked silence. Rylock and Adan and Roderick exchanged appalled glances. Thomas was so still Keili knew it must be true.

"No," he said at last, "Not every one of them. If everyone was dead, we wouldn't know for sure. But most of them, yes. Almost all of them."

Rylock clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Oh no. No, that's not possible." Chancellor Roderick – who was, Keili realised just then, a good man – sounded as if he were going to be sick. "I can't believe that."

"Believe it, Chancellor, it's true. Thousands of children. Children and Tranquil. Some of them were taking refuge in the Circle Chantry - the Templars killed them there, on consecrated ground."

Rylock covered her face with her hands.

"Then they burned the whole Tower," Thomas continued remorselessly, "Looted it and burned it. Well, some of them did. I'll wager it's that new Order that calls themselves the 'Red Templars'. Seeker Lucius Corin and Knight Vigilant Trentwatch are leading them. Knight Captain Denam too, I think. They did most of the killing. They feed on blood."

Blood. Blood on the altar. Blood of the children. A sea of blood.

"Lambert van Reeves and the Knight Divine are leading their forces against Andoral's Reach. These Red Templars are coming here."

They're going to kill us. They're going to kill every one of us.

"Keili," Rylock said, her hand on the young woman's shoulder. "There's no need to panic. We shall pray for those children at service tonight – they are already in the Golden City – and it will not happen here, because I am not going to let it."

---

Desolation and destruction. Vines stripped, corn trampled, trees felled. Even the water mills had been demolished, cut free and sunk into the river.

All this had been done by the people who had planted those vines, tended those crops, sat under those trees.

"They must have wept tears of blood when they did it," Keili murmured.

"It is a terrible waste," Rylock agreed. "But necessary. We cannot let the enemy have that food or that fuel."

"I've read so much – seen Redcliffe during the Fifth Blight – but I still can't imagine a siege."

"This really takes me back. To the second battle of Ostagar. I remember standing on the walls with Rillian, watching the darkspawn approach."

"How long did that siege last?"

"About five days."

"And did you have to eat rats and mice?"

"What have you been reading?"

"Balak of the Avvar. 650 Steel."

"Balak!" Rylock exclaimed, and chuckled. "By the Maker, if Balak were heading this way I really would be worried! Fortunately we only have to deal with Lucius Corin."

They were walking the battlements. The battlements were covered by wooden boarding as Rylock had ordered. The village of Haven, on the Ferelden side, stood at the foot of Temple Mountain. Inside the mountain was the new Circle of Haven – almost empty of Enchanters. Irving, Wynne, even Petra had all left to join the rebels at Andoral's Reach. Only the children and Tranquil remained – being protected by First Enchanter Vivienne of Orlais, First Enchanter Sweeney of Ferelden, Senior Enchanter Ines, and Enchanters Thomas Amell, Minaeve, Adan and Keili. The Circle of Haven acted as a sentinel over the village below; the river formed a natural moat. Should any attacker make it through these, abatis would prove an additional problem.

The community of Haven covered five and a half hectares of land: the Penitents' Crossing, on the Orlesian side, was level with the top of Temple Mountain that contained the Urn of Sacred Ashes. Inside Temple Mountain were layers of chambers and auditoriums that made up the Circle proper. Apprentices were taught there but could go out and enjoy the sun during breaks. The place would only be sealed (Thomas' engineering made that possible) in the event of an attack they could not win.

Veins of blue lyrium ran beneath Temple Mountain – Keili knew it made mages very powerful, and Templar defenders need less lyrium to use their powers. And, of course, they guarded Andraste's Ashes atop the mountain. She wondered if that were the explanation for Rylock's unexpected vigour, or if it was just willpower. Rylock was the only Templar who ever shared the Ashes with the mages – granting them to any Tranquil who asked to reverse their condition – and Brother Rocald gave both mages and Templars the same ration of consecrated lyrium. The Chantry named it 'The Waters of the Fade' but it reminded Keili more of veins of blue lightning. Adan had a theory lyrium was the blood of the earth itself. He shut up about that whenever any Chantry folk were around, not wanting to give them any ideas that what they were really using might be a form of Blood Magic.

Temple Mountain was one of many mountains in the Frostback Range, and the defences of Haven used them all. The fir trees petered out about halfway to the top, then there was scrubland, then nothing but bare rock. As it was impossible to bring war machines that high, they had to transport them in pieces, drag these up with oxen and plough horses, then build trebuchets and mangonels on site. They had built gabions to protect those manning the siege engines. Because there was so much wood and rope they had stored sand and water in case of fire arrows, and the mages had all been practicing their ice spells.

Rylock gestured towards their defences. "Look at those towers. Look at those battlements. Look at the walls. You don't understand military engineering, so you don't know what a marvel we're standing on."

The patterns of crenelation followed the Tevene fashion; the raised merlons featuring embrasures for archers. The apertures were so narrow only archers from their side could fire through; the chances of the enemy getting a lucky shot were minimal. The crenels were enclosed with hinged wooden shutters to provide additional protection, and the entire battlement was covered in wooden boarding to provide a covered walkway.

The boarding projected out from the top of the wall, with hinged wall panels through which the defenders could directly engage the attackers below. The gaps between supporting corbels created machicolation. The fortification walls were thickest at the base to resist undermining and structural attacks; the talus served to make dropped projectiles (Adan was creating explosive flasks) bounce outwards into the enemy, rather than simply dropping downwards. The walls were twenty metres high and six metres thick.

Attackers who made it past these defences would then have to breach strong, high curtain walls. Rylock assured Keili that neither escalade nor battering rams would work here. In other places, impact bags, beams designed to hook rams or sweep away ladders, and swinging boards would suffice. Rylock explained Vegetius of Tevinter had stated mattresses, nooses, heavy columns and grapnels were also useful against rams. A toothed iron instrument called 'the Wolf'- which reminded Keili of a pair of pincers – could overturn them.

The curtain walls were punctuated by towers, barbicans, bastions at the corners of walls and along flat long sections. They provided some civilian rooms and functions internally, but their main purpose was to provide outward extended fighting platforms that enabled the defenders to enfilade long sections. The towers also provided blocking points should the attackers manage to ascend the battlements. By removing select support beams the defenders would be able to collapse the wooden floors so the attackers would not be able to pass through to adjacent walls.

These towers provided 360-degree visibility and incorporated water-collection guttering. They were protected from the elements as well. Once the drawbridge was raised, the gatehouse itself provided a lethal selection of challenges. A timber-framed portcullis, reinforced with iron, plus a solid wooden door held in place by a crossbeam, were resilient barriers. On either side the keeps were replete with arrow-slits so defenders could fire into crowding masses at point blank range. Murder holes above the entryway were set so defenders could drop boiling oil down upon attackers. The gatehouse was flanked by mighty barbican towers on either side.

The inner walls were higher than the outer walls: this allowed the defenders to fire down on the attackers as they surmounted the outer walls. These multiple rings of walls were heavily accented with towers from which defenders could rain fire. The concentric castle had an inner bailey which would be a kill zone for attackers unfortunate enough to be trapped there. The inner donjon was thirty metres wide by fifty metres tall.

During the siege, the drawbridge would be raised and the portcullis lowered, both operated by pulley-assisted winding mechanisms. When Rylock had taken over Haven in 9:32 none of this was in place: the ancient Tevinter mechanisms were all there but had been abandoned to time. The cultists of the High Dragon worshipped as Andraste has relied on their goddess to kill intruders; most Knight Commanders would have thought no further than hunting the occasional fleeing mage.

Keili said, "But walls alone cannot defend a city. It was not the walls that allowed Balak to sack Ferelden it was the foolishness of its people."

Rylock stared at her a minute then smiled with genuine delight - as though something Keili had said had pleased her. Keili had no idea what. Rylock said, "You are right. Many of Ferelden's defenders thought like Blood Mages - spilling the blood of their own people with profligate abandon in order to fight Balak to what was only a stalemate. But, fortunately, the fools aren't in charge around here."

Keili said, quietly, "I can see you are a great soldier, Knight Commander. Did you learn this from books? I... I mean no offence; it is only that, during the Fifth Blight, the Templars were fighting darkspawn emissaries. Not other knights."

Rylock took no offence. She even smiled. "Thanks to Sweeney I do read a great deal – De Re Militari by Vegetius and Kordillus Drakon's account of the Siege of Weisshaupt were most illuminating. I am trying to get my hands on a copy of 'The Art of War' from the lands beyond Rivain. But I learned most of this from General Loghain Mac Tir."

Was it Keili's imagination or did Rylock blush ever so slightly when she said Loghain's name? She decided it was just her imagination; or maybe Rylock was still angry that General – now Warden – Loghain had tried to enlist Uldred in his cause.

"Loghain wrote from Montsimmard to congratulate me on my appointment." Rylock snorted. "Of course he wasn't interested in congratulations. He pointed out we might one day be facing worse than the occasional fleeing mage and advised me to do what I have done. Loghain was thinking of Grand Duke Gaspard or the Arishok and I had been thinking of a massed force from Tevinter but it appears neither of us was correct. No matter. The defences will work just as well against Red Templars."

"But what if the Red Templars surround us and try to starve us out?"

Rylock explained the postern gate provided a point of both entrance and egress and as such was guarded at all times but this route would be vital to their resupplies. The sally port enabled supplies to be brought from King Cousland, through the natural tunnels and caverns beneath Temple Mountain. Available from the Ferelden side only, they could bypass their attackers completely.

"There is also a hidden trail under the Chantry transept on the Ferelden side. We can hold out for months."

Rylock led them through the postern and into the murky guardroom beyond. Knight Captain Harith called a greeting and Rylock stayed to discuss the defences.

"You're doing a good job, here," Rylock said admiringly, and patted one of the joists (Keili wondered if, in another life, it had been a pew).

There was a distinct smell of urine (one of the Templars had relieved himself against the wall) and the guardroom smelled of wood and tools and leather. Bang bang bang! came the sound of hammering. Everyone was covered with sawdust. Keili remembered her history. The Tevinters had built this. But after Andraste had freed Southern Thedas the fortress had fallen into disrepair. The Ferelden army had maintained places such as Ostagar - the Chantry had maintained Aeonar - everyone but the followers of Disciple Havard the Aegis had forgotten Haven.

They had been true believers, guarding Andraste's Ashes for centuries - until Kolgrim had led them astray. Only for the Hero of Fereden to find Haven while looking for a miracle to cure Arl Eamon. Revered Mother Hannah had chosen this site to rebuild the Circle of Haven because she had known a miracle like the Ashes would refuse to stay hidden. Thus the eyes of the world would be turned to Haven - and corrupt Templars unable to mistreat mages behind closed doors. Unfortunately, Keili thought, it also meant fanatics would stop at nothing to claim Haven for themselves.

Keili had read of a siege in which the defenders had run out of water to quench fires so had used barrels of expensive wine instead. Everyone knew of Harith's fondness for extra lyrium; some demon inside Keili made her ask them if lyrium could be used for the same purpose. Harith only grunted, as if not wishing to dignify the question with a response.

Keili figured it wouldn't come to that anyway: the fortress had an internal well as well as a rainwater harvesting system designed by Thomas. Built atop the towers, the sloping roofs channelled the rainwater down via gutters and drainpipes into a stone cistern.

It's funny - the Chantry calls lyrium the Water of Life but nothing beats rain. Still, when it's raining and I want to go outside to study, I growl as much as anyone.

The only two people who didn't seem to mind rain were Ines and Rylock. Sweeney did: often complaining about the paper of his books. Keili had not dared tell them she was their granddaughter - fearing their opprobrium, though that was irrational - but she had told Rylock she did not mind her sharing the knowledge and Rylock had taken that as the plea it was. Rylock had told them, they had approached her, and they seemed to like having a granddaughter. A granddaughter they could mentor in magic and who needed love far more than Rylock seemed to. Rylock had the Maker: closer than a lover and brighter than a Spirit of Faith.

Rylock began to walk the ramparts, heading west, sunlight glinting off her armour as she passed the Penitent's Crossing. Embrasure after embrasure; arrow slit after arrow slit. The field gate facing the Dales was protected by a muscular barbican that included a stone machicolated section set like boarding above the entrance.

"We cannot rely only on passive defence - active defence will come from the Templars and the King's garrison. The walls will provide us cover from missiles plus spaces through which we can launch our own attacks."

Keili said, sharply, "You have not been considering the mages. We, too, can fight, as the Ferelden Circle did during the Fifth Blight. I was only an apprentice then - now I am being trained by First Enchanter Vivienne. If the worst should happen, Templars can throw down their arms, dress in plain clothes, and slink away. Mages cannot. You have no one here with more reason to fight. Or win."

"You are right,' Rylock said, abashed, 'and I have seen what a unit of mages can do. The former First Enchanter Irving fought heroically during the Fifth Blight, and Ines and Sweeney saved my life. Who do you think should lead this unit?"

Keili blinked. "You're asking me?"

"Yes. I think a mage will be better able to judge the abilities - and the risks - of her fellow mages."

"Neither Sweeney nor Ines nor Adan would ever become abominations," Keili said confidently, "Sweeney and Ines wouldn't do that to you and Adan wouldn't trust a spirit's promise. He's a very cynical man. Minaeve...she's an excellent alchemist – Adan's apprentice – but demons wouldn't be interested in her because she can barely light a candle with magic."

For just a moment, Keili glared. "That's why what the Circle did to Jowan was so wrong. You were going to put demons inside him – force him to fight them during his Harrowing – when he knew he couldn't win. If the Chantry had just left him alone they wouldn't have bothered him! That's why he turned to Blood Magic. He didn't make a deal with a demon – First Enchanter Irving had those books on his desk! Jowan was set up – by both Irving and Greagoir...I, I beg your pardon, Knight Commander!"

Knowing Rylock had fought beside Greagoir – been with him as he died – Keili could have bitten off her tongue. Old habits – fear of Templars - began to reassert themselves.

"I am sorry," Rylock said quietly.

"Why? You weren't at the Tower during that time. You only met us when Greagoir sent for the Rite of Annulment, because Warden Commander Rillian Tabris had fallen to the Sloth Demon like all the others. You had the authority to kill us all - Grand Cleric Leanna had approved the Rite - and you didn't. I owe you my life."

"I joined the Templars at sixteen and didn't question in thirty years. I placed a demon inside you and stood ready to kill you should you fail to defeat it. I hope the Maker judged Greagoir kindly. I hope the same for myself. I expect I'll meet Him soon – but I don't intend it to happen until after we've defeated the Red Templars."

Keili's mind was drawn back to the matter at hand. Which mage would be best at leading them?

"Cole - that young man is only an apprentice and he has suffered so much at the White Spire I don't think he should be fighting. He wants to help – he shows talent for healing – but I think he should stay with the other children. The only mage who has actually been trained to fight - in the way the warrior-mages of Arlathan once fought – is First Enchanter Vivienne de Fer. She is a Knight Enchanter, and it is not for nothing she is called the Iron Lady! The Red Templars themselves would be afraid of her."

Rylock nodded. "I'll confirm her appointment tonight."

The bells were ringing for nones: they would have to go back.

"Rylock…"

"Shh!" Rylock turned her head. Someone was shouting: it was the watchman on top of the tower. He was pointing and waving down the wall, and the other guards spilled out their guard rooms, hoisting themselves onto the embrasures, shielding their eyes from the sun.

"What is it? What are they pointing at?"

There were plumes of smoke in the Dales; flat yellow fields and green forest. Wheeling birds. A glint, like water.

No, Keili realised, it cannot be water - the river is on the Ferelden side.

But it was a kind of flash, like sun on glass. Or like sun on …sun on…

"It's the enemy," said Rylock. She sounded remarkably calm. The soldier nearby - a young man who had only just begun to shave - was jumping up and down in excitement. "They're coming - sound the alarms! Ring the bells!"

"Knight Commander…"

"Report to Vivienne. Tell her she has command of the mages - and authority to use magic as she sees fit. Obey her in all things." '

"Rylock…"

"Yes. Yes, I know. It's alright. We're going to be alright."

---

Torch light glinted on helmets and chainmail and rows and rows of fierce, gnashing teeth.

"What's going on?" Keili asked Thomas. They were now both members of First Enchanter Vivienne's unit, named 'Equal Rites'. Thomas had suggested 'Blitzkrieg', in honour of his friend Anders, but Vivienne had vetoed that at once. Keili had wanted 'The Maker's Children', but Adan had scoffed and suggested 'Tempest'. Vivienne herself had chosen 'The Renaissance' but as Ines and Sweeney had both opted for 'Equal Rites' they had won the vote.

"Looks like another rationing fight." Thomas studied the turbulent crowd of heavily armed soldiers. "If you ask me, this lot are just back from the Crossing. Probably think they deserve an extra ration for their trouble."

"Look! There's the Knight Commander!"

Keili could see Rylock over the mass of steel-capped heads; she must have climbed up on something. Somebody waved a torch in her face and she beat it back with a gauntleted arm. There were shouts and thumps and surging bodies. The clink of chainmail.

"We've got to help her!"

"How?" Thomas smiled mirthlessly. "The minute I use magic on this crowd they'll turn on us. Didn't you hear them suggesting Rylock hand over all the mages and the Dalish to the Red Templars?"

"All right!" Rylock shouted. "Have you finished now? Have you thoroughly impressed each other, strutting like bantams, flexing your muscles? Because I'm not impressed, I can tell you!"

There was an angry rumble of voices. Someone shook a threatening fist.

"Who else needs to prove he is a man? Hmmm? Who else is feeling small because he didn't manage to kill any Red Templars?"

The crowd growled, circled. Keili shuddered. Rylock was a good swordsman, but not that good.

"Come here and I'll show you who's a man. If you're woman enough to satisfy me."

Keili blushed but Rylock scoffed.

"Oh, really? And what's that going to prove? That you can overpower a middle-aged woman in long skirts?

Rylock paused as a ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. It was a waveform, like water.

"If you want to impress the rest of us, my friends, you'll do it by showing how strong you are. Only strong men can do without food. Extra rations are for children and invalids, not for valiant men-at-arms."

Neither Keili nor Rylock had eaten for what felt like days. Keili felt about to pass out and even Rylock looked pale. Pale and grey with exhaustion but indomitable. Rylock had told her the King would have ways of supplying them from the secret tunnel below the mountain – she hoped the King would hurry up.

There were murmurs of agreement among the crowd. But not everyone was convinced.

"That's easy for you to say!" a voice shouted, "You Templars drink lyrium. You haven't been running and putting out fires!"

Keili could tell Rylock hadn't taken any lyrium since the day she told her about her parentage. As a mage, she could sense it. Somehow, Rylock had retained her Templar powers - which was odd, but welcome. However much Adan would scoff at the idea, they were all on the same side now.

"I'm surprised to hear you have been running and putting out fires, Seggrit!" Thomas shouted, "The last time I saw you do that was when Flissa chased you from her tavern!"

There was a great yelp of laughter, drowning Seggrit's protests.

Thomas discreetly moved to stand beside Rylock, backing her up.

"Careful - that's a mage," came a murmur from the crowd. The would-be hard men muttered and began to disperse.

---

"I saw them myself," Harith insisted, "Six of those Red bastards. They were spitting what looked like frozen blood on the ground. Pop pop pop – just like that. It smelled of taint. After the Blight, I know taint when I smell it."

Oh Maker.

"Maybe the lyrium Lucius Corin provides is impure, but that doesn't mean it's tainted."

"Maybe. Maybe. But I've got a hunch."

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. A knock and a rattle.

"It's the King! The King has come – with a hundred knights behind him."

"One hundred knights?" Harith said dryly, "What are they going to do – tell the Red Templar army to go away?"

Rylock opened the door.

"They spotted his colours from the wall," said Knight Captain Rylien – a dark-eyed young woman who reminded Rylock of herself twenty years ago, "The Red Templar army have sent a representative too – Knight Captain Denam. They're calling for you in the Chantry war room. I think they might want to treaty."

Rylock dragged a comb through her short, grey-brown hair. Harith managed to look immaculate despite being short on both sleep and lyrium.

"If King Cousland wants to parley with the Red Templars that shows he's worried," she murmured.

"Of course he's worried!" Knight Captain Harith laughed. "Wouldn't you be worried, having a Red Templar army stomping about on your doorstep? I guarantee the King isn't worried about us. He's worried about Ferelden. If he gives into their demands for Therinfall Redoubt they'll never leave. He knows the Red Templars are not like the old guard: Greagoir, you, Tavish (Maker rest his soul) Rylien and Barris. These Red Templars are monsters, loyal only to the Lord Seeker - and, perhaps, to something else behind him."

Rylock frowned. "Those are just rumours, Harith. The Red Templars have done evil deeds in the service of an evil ideology – many misled, as we all can be - but they are still human beings."

"You don't believe the accounts they have red spikes growing out of their bodies? That they can spit on a man and turn him into something like a tainted ghoul?"

"No," said Rylock, "I do not think we need to make monsters out of ordinary evil. Those are children's stories."

The two Templars headed up the enormous stone steps to the Chantry. The statue of the Lady held out her hands, beseeching.

"Do you think, once Lambert van Reeves and Gerard Caron finish the rebel mages, they'll come here?"

Rylock shook her head. "They wouldn't be crazy enough to take their army from Andoral's Reach to the Frostbacks in winter."

"They wouldn't, no. But what about Knight Commander Samson? That bastard's crazy enough to do anything."

Rylock winced involuntarily. She knew very well both Cullen and Samson had had good reason to become disillusioned with Meredith. Both had left the Templar Order in protest. Both had struggled to wean themselves off lyrium. But while Cullen had succeeded, Samson had not been able to. There but for the Maker's grace go I.

Cullen had confided in her – she knew he and Samson had been lovers in the way she and Meredith had loved each other – Samson had resented Cullen's success and tried to persuade him to keep using. Cullen had eventually left. Ironically, both had been recruited by Seekers. Cassandra Pentaghast had put Cullen through Seeker training in the Hunterhorn Mountains. Lucius Corin had given Samson Red Lyrium and named him Knight Commander.

"I think if the terms are reasonable the King may agree. Say – if the Red Templars withdraw their demand for Therinfall Redoubt and ask 'only' for the mages to be executed as apostates and us to be made Acts of Faith."

Rylock could not deny Harith's words. However much King Cousland might hate it, he was king of the whole country, not just of Templars and mages who had chosen to stay (the Templars could have joined Lucius Corin and the mages could have gone to Andoral's Reach). The needs of the many...

Rylock had already decided that, if the whole place were overrun, they would pack the mage children inside Temple Mountain and defend them with their lives. The underground tunnel had a hidden passageway to the Frostback Mountains. Adan claimed it led to an ancient elven fortress, long since decayed, though no one had found it and he had no proof.

Haven was a hum of human activity: filled with wooden domestic buildings, stables, storage areas, barracks and markets. Rylock had always preferred Orlesian Coursers - but, after many heated discussions with Horsemaster Dennet, she had come to see the value of the Ferelden Forder. She rode one herself: Unending was less glamorous than the well-bred Orlesian destriers, but utterly reliable. Rylock smiled absently. With a few notable exceptions, she tended to prefer horses to people.

The Ferelden side of Haven reminded Rylock of a ship fortress, because they occupied a long slender rocky spur set between the confluence of two rivers, with the steep inclines and the rivers at the base making for an excellent defensive site. The river was wide, deep and fast-flowing. The thick natural rock would cause problems for enemy attempts at undermining.

Haven was, after five years, a sprawling fortified city containing multiple defensive lines within the outer walls. The mages studied here, but a village had grown up around it, and despite Rylock's initial concerns about the security nightmare - it would have been only too easy for the likes of Anders to escape - things had gone well. Mother Hannah had been right, she realised: treat mages like people and most of them just wanted to get on with their lives.

There were always exceptions - though the disease of cruelty did not only afflict Blood Mages - and that was why Rylock believed the world would always need Templars: ordinary people who were the people they defended, not a special class of mages who could charge higher and higher prices for doing what mundanes could not. Rylock was not a fan of elites. But neither was she a fan of the Lord Seeker holding her leash, as Rocald had put it.

She had always frowned on Harith's trade in illegal lyrium but had to admit (and hated to admit) that his means of supply meant the Seekers could no longer use their addiction as a means of control. Would there ever be a time when it was no longer necessary to plan for such sordid contingencies? Yes, in the Golden City.

The citizens of Haven were staring out of windows – shouting querulously – a baby cried and cried and a woman tried to offer comfort in a high, hysterical voice. The acrid pre-combat stink of men was a thing Rylock knew well. This was different. The weight of death pressed against these children, their adoptive mothers, the aged Enchanters, wringing out an aura Rylock had never experienced as a Templar.

"What do you think the terms will be? Ransom? What about the people who don't have any money? What about the Dalish? What about the mages?"

"It will not come to that. Even if the attackers refuse to give up, lightning sorties from our well-trained garrison will remain a threat. At the Siege of Weisshaupt, several Warden mages made sorties out to destroy ram engines with fire spells. The fortress remains."

"But no word from Weisshaupt. All the Ferelden Wardens seem to have disappeared - and the way they treated the Hero of Ferelden was despicable."

"Yes," Rylock agreed. The twinge in her back was probably psychological: the flogging given by Alrik on the Orders of Grand Cleric Iona - because she had stood up for her friend at that fateful Landsmeet - had healed well. But was Rillian alright? Did she even still live?

"Suppose the summer rains do not come - or the Red Templars manage to poison the river with red lyrium? I know you don't think the stuff is tainted but we'll have to plan for the eventuality."

Rylock nodded. "I'll increase the guards at the river and we'll warn the King."

They entered the Chantry narthex and found it very different from the days when regular pews had been in place for services. Now hundreds of people were packed into the nave, all standing. Some were citizens of Haven seeking shelter – most were those who had accompanied the King. There was Arl Teagan Guerrin of Redcliffe – there was Mother Giselle, who had offered aid as a healer – there was a young man she had never thought she would see again.

After the mages had voted for independence, Connor Guerrin had gone: not to Andoral's Reach and not to Haven but back to Redcliffe. To the mother who had shielded him from the Circle so he'd had no one to train him to resist demons. He had become possessed – a desire demon had promised to save his father's life... if he had let it in. Connor had not known what he was agreeing to; a child could not consent. Rylock could not blame the boy – nor did Brother Rocald, whose wife and young daughter had died as a result of the demon's predation and their animated corpses sent to attack the village at nightfall. Rylock was only glad Jowan – of all people! - had risked his soul to save Connor from possession, and Sweeney had confirmed it.

Yet another fact the Seeker Order kept from them: Templars had always been taught to kill mage children who became possessed; told there was no way back. Now that Rylock knew different - had seen Sweeney, Ines, Wynne and Irving perform an exorcism - she would never again kill a child abomination without trying to cure them first. She disliked risking her parents - was hoping Varric's wild account of an Elven ritual that could send non-mages into the Fade to kill demons would turn out to be true - but (as Sweeney was always telling her) she did not know enough to have an opinion on the subject. Sweeney was not trying to put her down - he was throwing down a gauntlet - and Rylock had chosen to pick it up and educate herself.

What was Connor doing here?

Connor swallowed once – twice – as if nerving himself. Then approached her.

"Knight Commander – I wish to do everything I can to defend Haven, not cower in Redcliffe behind my mother's skirts. Will you have me?"

"Yes. Report to First Enchanter Vivienne."

"Propitius esto, exaudi nos, Domine," Brother Rocald intoned, "Ab omni malo..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

"Ab omni peccato..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

The clerics in the chancel sounded tired and apathetic as they chanted the responses. Chancellor Roderick shifted from foot to foot – Rylock did not think he liked having to stand through the service.

"Ab ira tua..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

"Ab insidiis diaboli..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

Belatedly, Rylock realised the Maker was here. Had been from the moment she crossed the threshold. Now here she was, distinct and visible, alive to the burning and particular mass of her sins under His eye. Aneirin…Lambert… not arguing with Meredith when she should have. A shudder and a feeling of fracture in her chest.

"A peste, fame et bello..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

"A morte perpetua..."

"Libera nos, Domine."

Rylock prayed for Meredith – in the silence of her heart – hoped the Maker would understand she had been suffering from lyrium dementia. Whose fault was that? Meredith's - or Elthina's, for encouraging her in her insanity and putting politics above the Knight Commander's soul and the safety of her charges?

"They are ready for you now," said Mother Giselle softly. Her dark eyes looked oddly gentle. She did not look anything like Rylock's best friend and sister-by-choice, Boann, but there was a resemblance.

"Do you believe we are doing right here?"

"Yes. We do not teach that magic is evil. We teach that pride is evil, and that it afflicts not only mages. If the Lord Seeker is preaching that all mages – even children – must be killed for the way the Maker made them, he is wrong. I will do all I can to help you right this wrong."

Rylock was startled into smiling – when she walked through the apse her heart felt inexplicably lighter. She opened the door to the war room and stood facing King Cousland and Knight Captain Denam. None of them had brought bodyguards. Rylock's own life was a brief thing of no importance and she supposed Denam felt the same – he was here to serve Lucius Corin, not protect his own mortal coil. But the King...

Channon Cousland had been eighteen when his castle had been sacked by Rendon Howe – his father killed and his mother staked out in the dirt for the Howe soldiers to play with. Channon himself had been tortured for days – dark rumours suggested it had been worse than torture - but rescued by Delilah Howe, who had defied her father to marry a commoner. The Dark Wolf had led his rebellion against Howe from Soldier's Peak and then – hearing from Avernus there was a Blight – had led his forces to help Rillian Tabris. He had since married Queen Anora and rumour had it she was expecting their third child.

He was tall and fair-haired. Lean rather than slender. He wielded a broadsword known as 'Starfang' of a metal Rylock had never encountered before. It seemed to shine with a cold blue radiance

Knight Captain Denam read out the terms. Perhaps it was a trick of the dying light that made his eyes seem so red? Rylock looked again. A nictating membrane had formed underneath his eyelid – a translucent second eyelid closing beneath the outer eyelid – gliding horizontally across the eyeball. He smiled into her horrified stare.

"Every mage will be killed as an apostate – every Templar and Cleric made an Act of Faith – our army will be permitted to occupy Therinfall Redoubt. In this way you will prove your faith, and the Maker will spare Ferelden."

King Cousland suddenly radiated menace. Blue eyes glinted from paled features. Rylock was reminded of the strangely ominous colour of glacial ice.

"That will happen when a nug flies in the sky."

Denam left in outrage, pointedly looking around him as though to take note of all who had defied his master's will. The King and Rylock traded glances.

Somewhere in the Chantry, a woman shrieked.

As one, Rylock and Cousland moved to the commotion. Before them stretched a sea of milling heads.

"Silence!" the King roared, "You are in the house of the Maker!"

"That woman is a knife-ear and a heretic!" shouted Seggrit, "She shouldn't even be in here!"

"That's not true!" quavered the Elven woman, "I'm a good Andrastian."

"We should throw her to the Red Templars! We should throw all the Elves and the mages to the Red Templars! If it wasn't for them, we'd be safe."

"What madness is this! We are allies, united against a common enemy."

"Sire - our enemies are the enemies of the Maker. The Dalish are our enemies, not the Red Templars."

"Oh, really?" the King sneered, "Perhaps the good Andrastians of Val Royeaux should have pointed that out, before they were slaughtered like cattle in their own Chantry! Your enemy is outside the walls. Your enemy will make no distinction between you. To them you are all sheep to be shorn. I promise you this: any man who betrays an Elf or a mage of Ferelden will be given to the Red Templars. They're like mad dogs. They have abandoned all reason, all mercy, all human motives. You'll see how much they care about your distinctions when they're slicing off your fingers."

He took a deep breath and raised his voice. "My friends, there is an old, old saying: only when brother turns against brother is the sword driven home. Dissention is a sigh of weakness. It will always lead to defeat. Are we not defended by the invincible walls of Haven? Call to mind the great name of this city: the very place Disciple Havard laid to rest the Ashes of Andraste. For thousands of years their souls waited – then the Hero of Ferelden and your own Knight Commander were judged worthy. Are you going to betray them? Are you going to offer up your homes, your children, your ancestors' graves? Of course not! In courage you are the equal of the Red Templars; in necessity – the last and greatest weapon – you are better than they."

That last phrase sounded familiar to Rylock. She was sure she had heard Loghain say it when rallying his troops. Apparently she was not the only one who had taken notes. She wondered whether Loghain – who was, after all, the King's father-in-law - would find some pretext for leaving the corrupt Wardens to defend his daughter and grandchildren.

The crowd had fallen silent, drinking down the King's rhetoric. There was a cheer from someone at the back. Then Flissa stepped forward.

"They won't be getting my tavern! I'll kill every one of them before they set foot in it!"

The whole Chantry erupted into cheers and laughter. King Cousland turned and mouthed something to Mother Giselle, who began to sing:

Shadows fall
And hope has fled
Steel your heart
The dawn will come

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come

The shepherd's lost
And his home is far
Keep to the stars
The dawn will come

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come

Bare your blade
And raise it high
Stand your ground
The dawn will come

The night is long
And the path is dark
Look to the sky
For one day soon
The dawn will come

Now everyone was singing, and the chorus was like a benediction: glorious, dramatic, full of hope and courage.

The news spread quickly. The Fereldan Banns and their men were loyal to their King – the Fereldan mages had no choice but to fight – Knight Captain Rylien of Amaranthine, Templar Delrin Barris of a village near Lake Calenhad and Templar Recruit Lisette of Denerim told Rylock they would fight for her as both Fereldans and Templars. Rylock was surprised – and a moment later ashamed of her surprise – when Chancellor Roderick promised the same.

Some Fereldan Templars and Clerics threw down their arms and begged to join the other side. Conversely, a Templar on the other side – Knight Captain Evangeline – pledged herself to Rylock's cause, believing it to be just.

Rylock found Keili, and hesitantly asked her if she wished she'd stayed in Val Royeaux.

"I don't think so. Even now I don't think so. 'For who knoweth what is good for a person, all the days of their vain life which they spendeth as a shadow'?"

Rocald – that grizzled, scarred old warrior – had shed his cleric's robes for the armour he had worn as a Templar Sergeant. He carried a sword now. Rylock herself wore the armour of a Knight Commander, her Magehunter shield, and carried both the mace Rillian had named 'Liberator' (a wind-up that had turned out to be unexpectedly true) and The Keening Blade she had taken from the body of Gaxkang.

Rocald battered his shield with the flat of the blade. "Knight Commander!" There was a warrior's wild joy in the shout. Her Templars took up the chant. Torrential, the cadence careered off the city's stone. The chorus continued as the Templars moved out to the Penitent's Crossing, to face the Dales and the approaching army.

Rylock listened, watching the men and women stream across the battlements. Biting her lip thwarted the lump in her throat. She wasn't sure if her eyes misted out of pride and love for her people, or fear for them. She had a mad wish time could end at this point and hold her in this moment forever.

---

Brother Rocald – fighting as Sergeant Rocald because his vows only included chastity, not the laying down of arms - blessed the last of the lyrium and handed it to mages and Templars equally.

"Domine, non sum dignus, ut intres sub tectum meum: sed tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur anima mea."

Rylock felt the wash of liquid light sear into her bones and blaze outward like a white rose. She wondered – this thought had never occurred to her before – whether it felt the same for mages but was too shy to ask.

The towers of Haven - ancient Tevinter architecture - glowed like stone teeth. Marble and granite gleamed in the violet light. The peaks glowed behind them; the lights in the shadow at Haven indistinguishable from other mountainsides. They strode along the parapet, heading west: the Ferelden soldiers and Templars stared at them both: some grinning, some scowling, some blank-faced with eyes that seemed to stare into the middle distance. They looked small and fragile and dirty against the soaring, glowing background of the spreading field and blazing evening sky.

The Red Templars were camped there. A great ring of fires, tents, mules, horses, carts, the Seeker flag, and rubbish. All the vineyards were gone, pulled up for fuel. All the grass had been tramped into the dirt.

Strange, roving bands of shadow began moving over the ground. Oscillations formed by the refraction of light – similar to the effect of light moving across a shallow lake – writhed like shadowy snakes at the corners of her vision. This ghostly trick of light made the hair stand on the back of her neck.

The sun continued to fall, consumed by the dusk, blazing as if in panic. The ground went grey, the colours bleeding off the normal spectrum. The moonshadow approached. The complexion of the sky became an attenuated violet. The darkness in the west gathered strength like a silent, windless storm, spreading through the sky and closing around the weakened sun as though an organism of life and light were succumbing to a corrupting force. The sun turned red, then blazed in its agonal last moments.

The last throes were chilling, intense, the sun shrinking to a red line, a slicing scar in the sky. It flared for a precious final second, then was snuffed out like a candle flame, drowned in its own black wax.

Wind scraped at the outer walls and echoed around the battlements. Flames from the approaching army painted the ground in blood hues. The Red Templars swept down and across the valley to them like a false dawn.

Whooo...ooo...CRASH!

"Mangonels."

"In the darkness? That's insane!"

"Move!" Rylock ordered, "They're clearing space for the ladders."

"It's insane – they must be insane."

Someone reared over the battlement, blade flashing, mouth open, screeching like a pig. Andraste's sword on his armoured chest. The armour of the Knight Vigilant. Red as blood.

Rylock surged forward, sword raised. Trentwatch began despising her; there was a lazy insolence in his first passes. But she took the skin off his knuckles with one lucky stroke and that brought him to his senses. He had a puckered brow and a sort of blackguardly fretfulness about his lip. Rylock felt no fear. It did not remind her of her fights against maleficarum or darkspawn – it was like nothing so much as her sparring with Loghain: the same strokes, feints, deadlocks.

You may be the very best, he had said to her. If you forget the fancy Orlesian flourishes. If you remember fighting isn't an art.

She was soon sure Trentwatch could not kill her. She was less certain she could kill him. She was worried. There was already another, and another, swarming through the gap. Rocald was fighting them off – calling for reinforcements.

"Crossbowmen! Cover that gap!"

She was worried Trentwatch's greater strength would make the fight last too long and the other Red Templars would be upon them.

But then a change came over his face. She had seen that look many times on the faces of maleficarum as they began to believe 'this is death.' Life more alive than ever: raging, tortured, astonished.

Then he made his first bad mistake and she took her chance. She gave the straight thrust and then – all in one motion – wheeled her sword round and cut him deeply in an artery where no amount of surgery will stop the bleeding. Then jumped back so his fall did not bear her down with him.

As a result, the blood spatter landed on the ground of the battlements in front of her. She noticed something curious. Each droplet of blood seemed an individual creature, wriggling, seeking her flesh. A writhing and squirming that reminded her of maggots. She remembered the Canticle that spoke of the demons of the Void 'seeking forever warmth and form'.

Something – whether the memory of Harith's words or an intuition sent by the Maker – made her shout, "Vivienne! Have your mages incinerate these attackers. Ultraviolet light. It's the only way to be sure."

Magical lightning exploded along the false horizon

Then more enemies boiled up from the ladder and instinct displaced thought. If these creatures... no, they had human souls...were going to spread taint then it would happen to her. Not Keili, not Rylien, not Lisette, nor any of the younger soldiers. She would make sure of that. They can spit on a man and turn him into something like a tainted ghoul.

Well, that was a better fate than the one that awaited her in Wayside Ward. At best, she had ten years left – five as a basket case. At worst, she would not be relieved of active duty until she had done something unforgiveable, like Meredith, in the throes of lyrium dementia. All in all, this was far easier than some of the fates she had feared. Indeed, she would have died of taint seven years ago had Rillian not saved her – not with the Joining, but with an injection of her own blood. Seven good years.

She looked at Rocald: saw the same understanding – the same decision – dawn in his face.

"I'll join my wife and daughter."

Another seethed towards them and Rocald met the blade. Clang! Then, when the attacker was off-balance, he kicked him off the wall. The Red Templar fell, howling.

Brother Rocald laid a hand on Rylock's shoulder. For a few seconds the mountains seemed warmed by the mere fact of human contact. He raised his other hand, in a gesture somehow including himself as well as her and said, "Ego te absolvo."

Rylock kissed the sleeping dream of Meredith waiting in her darkness and looked into the light.

---

AN: As is probably obvious, my timeline is slightly different from canon. The mages at the Cumberland Conclave voted for independence in Drakonis 9:37, urged by Grand Enchanter Fiona and given hope by Thomas Amell, who had been cured of Tranquillity by the Sacred Ashes. Public opinion had already begun to turn against the Templars after Varric's incendiary book, Spotlight, exposed the abuses at the Gallows. As a result Wynne was not successful (as she was in Asunder) in counselling the mages to vote against independence.

In retaliation, Lord Seeker Lambert van Reeves dissolved the Nevarran Accord and declared all mages apostates. In Kirkwall, Elthina summoned both Meredith and Orsino to the Chantry to talk terms. Anders/Justice blew up the Chantry, and Justice left Anders' body, dying as penance for the innocent lives lost. Meredith was killed by Viscount Nathaniel Howe and Anders led the surviving mages to Andoral's Reach.

In DAI Justinia's Conclave seems to have happened in winter, but I always doubted the Chantry clerics could have travelled across the Frostback Mountains in winter. Since I had my AU 'The Last Straw' and AU Asunder happen in spring 9:37, I figured the war would happen in summer and the Conclave be called in autumn at the latest. The only person crazy enough to lead an army to attack a mountain fortress in winter would be Samson!

Writing the Annulment of the White Spire was horrible but I needed to show what the Red Templars are capable of. I could not do that with Dairsmuid. That Annulment does not make sense militarily in my fic. The Red Templars are already split between Haven and Andoral's Reach, and between them and Rivain is Antiva. Nathaniel Howe was able to convince Prince Sebastian that Meredith, not Anders, was responsible for Elthina's death, so he is an ally, and is married to Josephine Montilyet. Nathaniel is the lover of Zevran, First Talon of the Antivan Crows, and Admiral Isabella controls Rialto Bay from Llomerryn.

Thomas Amell and Minaeve rescued Cole as a young mage in the White Spire prison. The Spirit of Compassion we met in DAI was changed by their meeting with Lambert Hawke (last chapter of Lights in the Shadow) and is named Grace.

'Equal Rites' is a nod to Terry Pratchett, and it was Beta Gyre who pointed out First Enchanter Irving (sneaky bastard!) had Blood Magic books *on his desk* and then claimed to be ever so surprised when Jowan read them!

The artwork for this fic was done by the amazing Tobio Fish and shows Lambert and Fenris in action. Anders gave Fenris the secret to gaatlok in the last chapter of Lights in the Shadow, Varric has given him a version of Bianca, and I believe Fenris' lyrium brands work in a similar way to the Sha-Brytol bolters. In other words the slave uprising in Tevinter has started a lot sooner than in canon!