Notes: I struggled to avoid making this chapter feel like more companion bookkeeping, because a very important story arc is about to take place following this chapter and I am eager to get to that.
Song is "Mephistopheles" by Trans-Siberian Orchestra and is about that figure offering a Faustian bargain.
Chapter 51: The Gods of a Second Chance
Caitlyn was feeling both triumph and dread. It was early Justinian 9:36, and she had been pregnant for three months. That was longer than she had been pregnant in 9:27 when Anders had been taken from them. It was only just a bit longer—but it was longer, and the triumphant part of her felt that since they had made it past this artificial line with nothing bad happening, it would be all right. The part of her that felt dread was more cynical and instead feared that the "something bad" would merely happen a bit later.
She had not wanted to confide this inner turmoil to Anders. He seemed to be purely joyful about this pregnancy, his fears finally banished—or simply crowded out—and she did not want to spoil that joy for him, since it had been so terribly brief during her first pregnancy. She was not yet showing, but when they were in the family quarters and had their personal privacy, that did not stop him from surprising her from behind with a sudden hug, a nuzzle of her neck, and frequently, a caress of the place on her lower abdomen that would start to grow in a couple of months. He usually fell asleep embracing her, either from behind or cuddling her head beneath his chin—or nestling his in her bosom. He had always been physically affectionate and liked touch, which she supposed was likely a consequence of being given up by his father, ripped from his chosen family years later, and living in the affection-starved environment of the Circle for thirteen years. Now they could barely keep away from each other.
He was also very energetic and passionate when they were entirely alone, whether in their bed or out of it. Some of it might be Warden stamina—which neither Justice nor either Taint-mitigating potion he had taken treated as a problem—but since they had learned of this pregnancy, this part of their private lives truly had changed. They had not exactly been negligent of each other's needs before, but sometimes it had a dutiful aspect; the awareness that they should give this to each other sometimes felt as strong as their natural desires. Now, those desires had completely occluded that lurking sense of obligation—which was always accompanied, below the surface, by a shadow of anxiety for what might happen to their relationship if they didn't make the effort. Caitlyn knew that the deliberate work to keep their relationship intimate also mattered, but it was still nice for things to be refreshed without it. After over four years of marriage and an additional total of eight months as lovers, Anders was almost as familiar with her body as he was with his own, and likewise for her—so that familiarity made this time of hot, uncontrolled desire even better than their time in Lothering or their reconciliation in Kirkwall.
Caitlyn was enjoying the period of heated passion and warm, cuddly affection. It helped her to cope with the stresses of her position, which remained even when the brewing rebellion seemed to be in a lull. Kirkwall was a troubled city with many problems, many of which had nothing to do with mages and Templars, and Caitlyn was determined not to let them slide as her predecessor had. It was almost too late now to help the Fereldan refugees, however. Those who had lasted in Kirkwall this long had done so because they had achieved some measure of success and had escaped poverty, and they no longer needed official help; those who had struggled in earlier years were mostly lost—whether to repatriation, or, she feared, death or slavery.
It was important to her to root out the slaver gangs. Most of them sold their "goods" to Tevinter, and Caitlyn was acutely aware that people who distrusted her because she was a mage would spread conspiracy theories that she was letting slavers flourish because of sympathy for Tevinter. That Dumar, Threnhold, and, for that matter, Meredith Stannard had let the same gangs flourish—and in Meredith's case, had even granted amnesty to criminals if they turned in apostates to her—would not matter to such people. When the rebels and angry mobs seemed to disappear or settle down, Caitlyn shifted her focus to getting rid of slaver operations in the city. It was a good use of the Arcane Guard's skills, as well, since most of the gangs had one or more blood mages—but it was a tough slog. These people had held their "territory" for decades, and they were not inclined to give it up. One nasty skirmish between the Guard and a slaver gang had resulted in severe injuries for three of the Guard mages, but they seemed determined to soldier on, and Caitlyn supported their resolve. But it was still grueling and slow, and she was glad of the bright spots that were her family, her pregnancy, and her and Anders' sudden upsurge in affection.
Early in the month, he had remarked wryly that he was happy that he could "finally once again do the one thing that a consort is supposed to do"—which prompted her to reassure him that he had always been much more to her than fertile seed, and that they were true partners. He had smiled back, expecting that, but she could tell that it really did matter to him that they could experience this happiness together a second time, hopefully without it being destroyed. She did not want to spoil this for him by confiding her vague, nebulous fears that "something bad would happen." And now that I think of it, she thought at one point after brooding, I probably spend too much time worrying about this myself. I should enjoy this time as well. It's like the dark mood I had before my wedding. It's all right to be happy, Caitlyn, she chided herself, resolving to take her own advice.
The calendar had reached the traditional three-month mark when a prominent couple could announce their expected baby. Shortly after sending a gift to the Teyrna of Gwaren and Warden-Captain for the birth of Saoirse Mac Tir—Caitlyn wondered, wryly, if the potion somehow favored the conception of girls—she and Anders made their announcement to the prominent people of Kirkwall and sent couriers to their allies abroad.
They had called the nobles, important merchants, and high-ranking officials to a large room in the outer Keep. Those who were their allies, including Ser Marlein and the de Launcets, were visibly pleased. Leandra was happy as well, though a little hurt that she had not been told in advance. Caitlyn hoped that her mother would set that aside with time; she could hardly explain that the reason she had kept her mother in the dark was that she did not trust her to keep it a secret. Pleased with the attention, Grand Cleric Petrice ostentatiously led a prayer for the Viscountess and her family—about which Anders and Caitlyn both felt very smug, even though they were not exactly highly observant or orthodox. Even Cullen seemed happy for them, if awkwardly unsure that it was right for him to feel that way.
But in the back of the room, invited only for propriety, Meredith Stannard glowered in anger at the idea of a mage couple reproducing again, silently refusing to bow her head or close her eyes.
A month later.
"Well," Caitlyn said, going through the pile of letters that had been delivered, "our news certainly made a splash!"
Anders and Mal looked up. "You received congratulations from Ferelden a fortnight ago," he said. "What's in that pile?"
Caitlyn waved a very ornately decorated parchment. "This is from Celene." She picked up another one with a broken sunburst seal. "This is from Justinia!"
He glowered. "It's about time that she wrote directly to you."
"It's a harmless, proper note," she said, "but it seems warm for what it is. She could have been formal and chilly." A dark smile filled her face as she sifted through the correspondence. "Prince Sebastian was, after all. He merely wished us to have a 'successful birth and healthy child.' Good to know that he does not wish death on an innocent baby, at least," she said bitterly.
"I wonder why he even bothered to write."
"We're not at war. It's still protocol to do this even for a head of state that one dislikes, if it is peacetime." She smiled at the next letter. "This one is from Isabela and Fenris. Don't look like that, Anders," she chided him as he glowered involuntarily at the mention of the latter. "They also congratulate us. Isabela writes that they are going to return to Kirkwall by August or Kingsway, whether they have tracked down Danarius or not. She says she's taught Fenris how to read and write." Her eyes widened at the last note. "This one is for you, love, and it's from Lady Cousland." She passed the note to him.
"It has a griffon," Mal remarked, observing the seal. "I hope the griffons survived somewhere and that they aren't all gone."
"Maybe they did," Caitlyn said as Anders read his letter. "Dragons did when everyone thought they were gone, and now they are doing very well."
"Father doesn't think I should be a Grey Warden when I grow up," the boy said.
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. "I didn't know that you had discussed it with him."
"I'm worried about being a mage," he confessed. "It's a way to be safe."
Appalled, she got up and sat next to him, placing an arm around his back. "Listen," she said feelingly, "your father and I will make things right for fellow mages. You will not have to do something that drastic just to be safe! I promise." She had become somewhat pessimistic of late, but hearing her son express his own pessimism—and arrive at the conclusion that he had to join the Grey Wardens to be safe—shocked her out of the dark, fatalistic complacency that this pessimism brought. I will not let that happen, she vowed, ashamed of herself for even contemplating failure. I haven't failed yet and I will make sure I don't, whatever it takes.
"You bloody well won't join the Grey Wardens!" Anders exploded, throwing his letter down. He rose from his chair, Ser Pounce-a-Lot jumping from his lap in indignation at being disturbed.
"Anders!" Caitlyn exclaimed sharply.
"You said bloody!" chimed in Mal, amused and shocked.
"Read that!" he retorted, pointing dourly at the letter. "Read that and tell me if you disagree!" He stormed to the nearest window and glared out.
Uneasily Caitlyn picked up the multiple-page letter and began to read it.
.
Warden Anders,
For my part, I offer my congratulations to you and the Viscountess. I know that this was something that you and your family wanted very much, and it makes me happy that you are experiencing it. I also offer my congratulations to your son for becoming a big brother soon. As one who has an older brother myself, I urge him to be kind to his sister when she is born! I wish the Viscountess and your unborn daughter well and have no doubt that they are in the hands of the best Healer in Kirkwall. Leliana, our adopted children Amethyne and Ellandrion, and the Grey Wardens of Ferelden—including, needless to say, Warden Carver—join in this sentiment.
Unfortunately, it seems that the Grey Wardens elsewhere in Thedas—save Warden-Captain Stroud and his unit—do not share this feeling. The very morning that I began this letter, I received a shocking and deeply offensive message from Weisshaupt. I have attached a faithfully transcribed copy of it for your own information, but do know that I do not agree with these instructions or the mindset underlying them.
.
Nervously, Caitlyn turned to the next sheet, which contained the text of the letter from Weisshaupt. This, no doubt, was what had infuriated Anders. Girding herself, she continued to read.
.
Warden-Commander Elissa of Ferelden:
It has come to our attention that three high-profile Grey Wardens who were Joined in Ferelden and either are, or once were, under your command, have fathered children years after their Joinings, all within a year of each other. The first such instance could have been dismissed as a lucky fluke or a case of mistaken paternity, but the confluence of circumstances reveals that the Fereldans under your command have apparently devised a potion or magical procedure for negating the effects of Warden infertility, at least in men.
We recognize the exceptional circumstances surrounding the birth of Princess Celia Theirin, given that your King Alistair was the last of the Fereldan royal line before her birth. We also recognize that the lordship of Gwaren needed an heir that had to come either from the Queen or from the Teyrna. However, we express our extreme surprise that you passed your discovery to Kirkwall, as the line of the Viscountess was secured already. You wrote to the First Warden of the Kirkwall Consort's past when he, like Alistair, resigned from active duty, so we conclude that sharing the potion recipe with him was likely an act of sympathy for him and his separation from his first child. Though sentimental, this must not be repeated.
Despite the fact that we reluctantly acknowledge the unusual situations for Gwaren and the Crown of Ferelden, the existence of a potion or procedure to defeat Warden infertility runs counter to the ancient traditions of the Grey Wardens. Wardens are to give up all ties to family upon Joining and to devote themselves wholeheartedly to the fight against the darkspawn, and this discovery is a defiance of the spirit of this tradition. Additionally, since Wardens take no vows of abstinence and males have physical needs, it would reflect extremely negatively on the Order if Wardens began to sire bastard children over the course of their duties and travels. We recognize that the three high-profile Wardens who have taken advantage of your discovery are all married, and we hope that you have not shared it freely with all Wardens with whom you communicate, just those you judged faithful to their wives.
The First Warden hereby orders you to share it with no one else, to confiscate any instructions that you have given out, and to perform the Joining on any members of the household, such as Court Mages, who may be required to perform the process or make the potion and who are not Wardens. Since we are aware that Warden/Consort Anders is himself a mage, we order you to tell him that he is not to disseminate the instructions he has received any further.
.
Sparks seemed to pop behind Caitlyn's eyes at this. "This is disgusting," she seethed. "They obviously think that Wardens should mostly be men and that their only contact with women should be to use them, not love them and want families with them! Soldiers and camp-followers, that's how they see it!"
"The Warden-Commander once mentioned that prior to her recruitment, all the Wardens in Ferelden had been men," Anders said. "That was why she recruited Sigrun and Velanna. This makes me wonder if part of the reason why broodmothers still exist, and the Calling is still a reality everywhere except Ferelden, is that there are too few women high in Warden command who can talk about the risk to women to enter the Deep Roads! Even if a man doesn't die fighting the darkspawn—like that poor sap Larius back in 9:33—he 'only' becomes a ghoul, so the Calling is not a problem." His voice was sarcastic.
"You may be right," Caitlyn said. "Oh—there is more from Lady Cousland. Just a minute." She continued reading.
.
In addition to the manifest offensiveness of the First Warden's letter, I know for a fact that certain highborn Orlesian Wardens maintain contact with their families—and that Weisshaupt not only accepts this, but welcomes it as beneficial to the Order to have noble connections, provided, apparently, that the nobles are from the Orlesian Empire. Needless to say, I have no intention whatever of severing contact with my lord brother, nor does Warden Carver intend to cut contact with his family—your family.
I should add, finally, that this letter—though shocking in its gross offensiveness—is merely the final straw for myself, Warden-Captain Loghain, Warden-Enchanter Finn, and Warden-Captain Stroud. Since you are retired from active duty and have enough troubles of your own with Kirkwall, I will not share the full details of what we have been hearing and dealing with in our correspondence with other Warden posts abroad, but suffice it to say that the four of us are convinced that the Grey Warden Order is filled with corruption and malfeasance that likely comes from the very top. We agree that, barring a change of leadership, we cannot trust any Warden posts other than our own, especially not those in Orlais and the Anderfels. Stroud warns us that the Orlesians in particular appear to be acting suspiciously. Why, he cannot guess, but he urges us not to trust them. Loghain needed no convincing, obviously, but it was especially powerful to me that this warning would come from one with Orlesian noble heritage. I have passed this warning on to King Alistair and now pass it to you and Viscountess Hawke as well: Should any Warden outside our four posts contact you, do not give any private information to them and please proclaim ignorance of any goings-on in the Fereldan Wardens. I cannot ask Leliana to get to the bottom of it, since she has her hands full with the Chantry rebels, but once we have the agents, we will try to find out what we can. In the meantime, the four of us will be ending contact with outside Warden posts. Please, for your own sake, be careful. I hate to have to put another worry on your heads, but I would be remiss not to warn you.
Maker watch over you,
Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland of Ferelden
.
Caitlyn took a deep breath and set the letter down. "Your father is right," she said to Mal. "This would not be a good time to join the Grey Wardens. They are having trouble."
The boy's eyes widened. "Is Uncle Carver all right?"
"Yes," she assured him. "The Fereldan Wardens are just fine—but most of the others, in other nations, are possibly up to something, so they are having to keep to themselves and watch out for each other. As I said, your father and I will make things right for mages. I promise, Mal."
Anders turned around from the window and gazed at his family. "So do I."
A month later.
Isabela had sent a letter from Ostwick, indicating that she was sailing for Kirkwall. Caitlyn and Anders could therefore estimate when she and Fenris were due to arrive, and Varric was at the docks to welcome them when they did. Unsurprisingly, they wanted to rest in Fenris's house first. But after a night of regaining their equilibrium for being on land, they would be ready to visit the Keep as the guests of honor at a welcome dinner.
It was still a significant change to Caitlyn to have a cook at her beck and call all the time. Even in the Amell house after she had hired Orana, her mother had wanted to help the maid prepare meals. But at the same time, there was so much work to do as Viscountess—especially one who who had a cause far broader even than the welfare of the city—that she could not have cooked even if she had wanted to. But that meant that it would not require the greater part of a day for her to prepare a banquet.
Her friends and family began to arrive late in the day, Merrill, Leandra, and Charade first—her uncle wanted to stay at home—followed by the others in a steady trickle. Varric sauntered in, followed by Aveline and Donnic, and at last, just before the meal was set to begin, the long-absent pirate and Tevinter elf stepped inside.
"There is fashionably late, and then there's this," Varric chided.
"And we are neither," Isabela retorted, "so no harm done. And Your Grace," she said with an exaggerated, ironic bow to Caitlyn. "Haven't you done well! I also hear that there's another Hawke-Anders baby on the way."
Anders placed an arm protectively on her waist. Five months along, she finally had a small bump, which he cherished seeing, not having had the chance to see her like this when she was carrying Mal. "There is," he said.
"So your staff still sparkles and her Fade-rift is still open to you," she purred, prompting sharp looks from him and Caitlyn. Mal was confused at her innuendo, and with a look of embarrassment at having forgotten he was there, she turned at once to him to distract him. "And what do you think of having a sister? Maker's breath, it's been a while. You were a sprout last I saw you!"
"No, I wasn't," the boy replied indignantly. "And I like it just fine! I'm going to have a sister, but I'll be the big brother."
Fenris gazed around the inner Keep. "When last I was inside these walls, the place was spattered with blood," he said quietly. He turned to Caitlyn. "It's improved quite a bit from that." Irony filled his voice, and the ghost of a smile graced his face.
She could tell that this was his way of congratulating her, and she smiled back. "I'm so glad that the both of you are back at last," she said, meaning it. "You haven't met my cousin Charade... and there have been other changes too. Merrill lives with my mother, uncle, and cousin now."
"The Knight-Commander captured me and took me to the Circle," Merrill said quietly. "They got me out, but I have had to hide since then. Well," she corrected, "not hide, exactly, but I had to have a safer place to live."
Fenris looked disturbed. Whatever his views of blood magic—indeed, of magic at all—Caitlyn realized that he did not want his friends to be locked up.
"And so we're all here, except I guess for Junior," Varric remarked. "It has been a while."
They gazed at the table, thinking. At last Caitlyn stepped forward. "Let's sit down," she urged. "We can catch up over the meal!" Once she had taken her seat, the others followed—and in a few minutes, the staff brought the food.
The dinner began quietly. It wasn't that no one had anything to say, but everyone—including Mal—seemed subdued and thoughtful. It's as though we all realize that something is coming, Caitlyn thought, gazing out at her friends and family. We all know it, even though we don't know exactly what it will be.
She decided to break the ice. "I hate that you didn't find Danarius," she said between courses. "He hasn't been in Kirkwall either, to my knowledge."
Fenris glowered. "It isn't that we couldn't find him," he spat. "We knew where he was. We just couldn't get to him. He was too well protected."
"How so?"
"Attacking a magister in Minrathous is no easy task. They have bodyguards and thralls who will die for them, and their bodyguards are usually mages too. I hope he returns to Kirkwall," he said. "That's the best chance I have of... meeting him."
"We did hear some interesting rumors and news," Isabela said. She gave Caitlyn a wry smirk. "You are quite popular in Tevinter."
Caitlyn exchanged an uneasy glance with Anders, then turned back to the pirate. "I don't know how to take that."
"Just take it as a fact. Of course Minrathous buzzed with approval of a mage, a defiant reform-minded former apostate, to boot, who defeated the Arishok of the Qunari and then took over a city to rule it!"
"I didn't take over the city," Caitlyn said sharply. "That sounds like I led a conquest. I became Viscountess lawfully and peacefully—because I always intended there to be a moot to remove Dumar. I didn't want him to be killed."
"Hey, I don't disagree!" said Isabela. "I'm just the messenger! But that's what the Tevinters are saying about you. They're thrilled."
"Fine," she said, "but I wonder how thrilled they will be when they learn that I have been making it a priority to get rid of their slaver gangs."
Fenris glanced up in surprised approval. Aveline spoke up. "It has been grueling, hard work," she said, "but we have made real progress."
"And it's in large part due to mages," Anders added pointedly.
"Ah, yes," said Isabela. "We did hear about the mages in the City Guard and the healing clinics. And also, uh..." She trailed off uneasily.
"The attack?" said Caitlyn. "No one was killed, though there were a few people—including one Healer—who suffered permanent injuries. Anders is responsible for the fact that no one died." She gazed lovingly and proudly at him. "He cast three powerful mass healing spells in a row, even though it completely sapped him."
"Unsurprising," Isabela said. "The two of you both have a thing about being crazy-mad heroes. Which I mean in the best possible way," she assured them with a teasing smile. "Though I assume that when you say no one died, you don't include the abomination Healer. The bad one, I mean—the killer."
Anders gaped at her in confusion and surprise. Caitlyn drew herself back defensively as something occurred to her. The denunciation that Elthina had written returned to her memories. The former cleric had stated that the mages' work had "resulted in" an attack on the Keep, but at the time, Caitlyn had assumed this was a deliberately misleading statement, intended to make people think that the Healers themselves were responsible without actually claiming that. "Is that what people say in the north?" she demanded.
"Well, yes," said Isabela, exchanging glances with Fenris. "It's untrue?"
She sucked in her breath hard, then exhaled quickly. "It's a filthy lie," she spat. "The one who attacked the Keep was a civilian fanatic who hated mages! He was incited by a former Templar named Mettin, who spouted bile in the streets with an adoring mob. They have all left town now, and good riddance. Starkhaven can have them. Or the Void, which is what I'd prefer."
Isabela was surprised. "Well, I don't know what they think in Tevinter. They're too pleased with you there to talk about something like that. I only heard this mentioned in Southern Chantry nations and that's what the story is, that one of the Healers became an abomination and tried to kill patients."
"That is absolutely false, and I'd love to know how it started—and by whom," said Caitlyn angrily. "I assume this rubbish came out of Starkhaven or Tantervale. The mob likely went to one of those cities, so they should know it is a lie! Do they think I executed an innocent man for another's crime?"
"When I executed a group of criminal Templars—Caitlyn was in Ferelden getting an alliance and had left me as Regent—apparently there were people who didn't believe the Templars' guilt," said Anders. "And we know that Sebastian didn't believe that Elthina was guilty of treason even with a note in her handwriting. Zealots believe what they want to believe. But Caitlyn is right," he continued. "It was a civilian, not even a Templar, who hated mages. He had a homemade bomb that he threw at Caitlyn and Mal, and it exploded and injured everyone there. He survived too, because my healing spells also caught him, but she later gave him the full punishment for high treason."
"Ouch," said Isabela. "Well... it's good to know the truth. We had no idea."
"Knowing the truth is good," Fenris agreed drolly.
That it is, thought Caitlyn as she gazed across the table. But how many people are truly willing?
Fenris and Isabela had been settled in for little more than three days when the message arrived at the Keep. The seal was not something that Caitlyn recognized. A pair of thin, elongated, intertwined dragons—one great and one small—faced each other, mouths agape.
"That looks Tevinter," Anders remarked, eyebrows drawn together in thought, when Donnic Hendyr presented the sealed scroll to them. "I wonder... You heard when Isabela said that the Tevinters approved of Caitlyn. But surely it's not from the Archon..."
"I presume not, given that the messenger was entirely nondescript and scampered away as soon as he handed it to me," Donnic said dryly.
"So someone using the Imperium heraldry without sanction?" Caitlyn said. "Or... could it be an official message, just sent quietly to avoid arousing suspicion?"
"Whatever it is, I would advise you to be wary of it."
"It's not cursed," Caitlyn said, quickly casting a spell at the scroll to determine that. "If it's 'correspondence' from a slaver gang leader who doesn't like what I've been doing lately, I'll let you and Aveline know that, so that it can be... dealt with."
Donnic nodded at once and left them. As soon as they were alone, Caitlyn tore into the scroll, opening it so that Anders could read as well.
.
Your Grace:
Greetings. My name is Varania, and I represent a quiet but growing political faction in the Tevinter Imperium called the Venatori. We watched with great pleasure as Your Grace defeated the Qunari savage in single combat—proving that, as we in Tevinter have long known, magic wins when it is given a fair chance—and then gazed with awe and admiration as you ascended to the head seat of your ancient city as a mage who does not piously condemn or backstab other mages to advance yourself, but instead, who openly calls for change in the benighted south. We also offer our congratulations to you and your lord husband for your expected second child.
There are several of us in the Venatori who believe that an alliance between our faction and your government would be of mutual benefit. The Venatori seek to remake and restore the glory of the Imperium, eliminating the barriers to advancement that hold back powerful mages of little wealth or new blood. Tevinter gives precedence to altus mages, which is to say, those of ancient families, whether or not an individual is actually a gifted mage. Our faction seeks to change this, and our numbers are growing. Sadly, the Archon does not wish to ally with you for fear of starting a war with your Southern Chantry again. We Venatori do not share this fear—but we do recognize that any alliance between us and Kirkwall would have to be secret until we can achieve our goals. Two other Venatori—one of whom is a magister—and I are even now in Kirkwall, hoping to secure a meeting with you (and, if you wish, your lord husband) to discuss the possibilities and advantages to you. We are aware that you are threatened by retrograde brutes to the north and left twisting by timid cowards in Val Royeaux, and an alliance with a faction of powerful Tevinter mages would be greatly to your advantage.
If you do wish to meet with us, please send a message to the docks district. Our courier will be wearing a garnet pendant with the ancient Kirkwall crest carved into the stone.
Victoria ad magos,
Varania
.
Caitlyn rolled up the scroll as she turned to Anders. She was honestly not sure what to think. She had never heard of this "political faction"—but then, why would she have known anything about internal Tevinter politics, she supposed. If what this Varania claimed of them was true, though, they seemed like they might really be allies. Maker knew she needed some more, since the Divine seemed to feel no sense of urgency, and even the Orlesian Wardens were possibly turning into a threat. Caitlyn's hand found its way to her small bump involuntarily, and thoughts of Mal—nine years old in Dragon 9:37, quite old enough for people to assume he would have shown magic—filled her mind. Even though her motives are good, Justinia is too much of a Game-player, too focused on the big picture of southern Thedas, to focus on what could happen to one family if she waits. I thought last year that I needed an armed force better than the City Guard if it came to war, and that it should probably include a lot of mages. This could be the answer, she thought.
Anders was hesitant as well, as he gathered his thoughts. "What do you want to do?" he finally asked.
She took a deep breath. "I think I want to hear what they have to say. Let's invite them—just the three of them that she mentions—to the Keep. If it's a trap, we'll have a clear advantage."
He considered, nodding. "That's true. It can't hurt to listen to them."
"As long as it is done secretly."
He chuckled. "I'll leave that part to you."
It did not take long to arrange the covert meeting in the Keep with the three Tevinter mages. To avoid involving outsiders in the secret, Anders himself delivered the reply to the courier, in disguise, and he and Caitlyn waited for the following day, when the meeting would occur. They made sure to set up wards and have their strongest staves with them in case the Tevinters were trying to trick them—or their terms were unacceptable but they would not take no for an answer. They sent Mal and the pets to the Amell house.
Rationally, Caitlyn could not imagine that a foreign delegation—even a covert one—would actually threaten her. If a band of rogue Tevinter mages, one of whom was a magister, attacked a head of state, that might unite even the likes of Sebastian Vael against the Imperium. And yet... If it does come to a fight for whatever reason, there are three of them and two of us, she thought, and I am pregnant. To be utterly sure, she told Varric, asking him to wait outside the room and to be ready to scramble the "team" if necessary.
Caitlyn and Anders' reply note had urged the Tevinters to come to the Keep in disguise, claiming to be foreign merchants. She had hoped that they would leave their staves behind, but when the appointed hour arrived, the three of them sauntered inside the outer Keep with long, thin, oddly lightweight-looking swords sheathed by their sides. Their heads were all hooded. She felt her skin prickling with the awareness of magic nearby and turned sharply to Anders. His eyes were wide. He felt it too.
"Your Grace," oozed the one who was apparently the leader, a gray-bearded man with a lined face—at least, so far as she could tell from beneath his heavy hood. "It is an honor to meet you."
"Likewise," Caitlyn said curtly, eyeing their weirdly magical swords. "What, exactly, are your weapons... Magister, I presume?"
"Ah. It may be that in the south, certain magical disciplines are no longer practiced. These swords are enchanted to function as magical staves, and a mage who wields one is known as an 'arcane warrior.'"
"I see," she said curtly, her pulse suddenly speeding up. "Well. We are alone now, so I must insist that you and your companions remove your hoods so that Anders and I can see your faces."
The Venatori hesitated for a moment before slipping their hoods back. Caitlyn looked from one face to the other to the third—
"Gascard DuPuis?" she exclaimed.
The Orlesian blood mage glared back at her. His hair was still blond, but his face was a lot harder than it had been when she had ordered him out of Kirkwall after discovering the "work" of his old master. "We meet again, Viscountess Hawke. I took your advice and apprenticed myself to a magister."
Anders was staring at the third mage, who was a woman—a redhead like Caitlyn. And— "You're an elf!" he said in surprise.
The woman peered back. "I am," she said. "I am Varania. I wrote the letter. The Venatori believe in advancing all talented mages."
Caitlyn turned to the oldest mage. "And you?" she barked. "You are the leader, the magister, but I do not know your name."
He hesitated for a moment before finally coming out with it. "I am Magister Danarius."
Caitlyn and Anders glanced at each other. In a fraction of a second, she had slammed her palms on the long table in the meeting room, her eyes widening in anger. "Are you?" she snarled. "The Magister Danarius, who used to have a slave that you marked with lyrium?"
"So the stories are true. You know him," Danarius remarked. "In the tale of your defeat of the savage oxman, there was mention of a lyrium-tattooed elf."
"What are you really here for?" she snapped.
"Such spirit," said the magister admiringly. "We did not lie to you, Your Grace. We are here to offer an alliance with the Venatori."
"You left your name off the letter—both you and DuPuis—because you must have known that I would be far less inclined to meet with you if I knew who you were," she spat.
"Don't be foolish," said Danarius.
Anders cleared his throat. "Excuse me," he said. "You don't know her. If you did, you would know what a really terrible idea it is to call her foolish."
Danarius looked as if he wanted to argue, but calm overtook him. "You're right," he said abruptly. "My apologies. Let us all start over, shall we?" He turned to Caitlyn, a sickeningly placid smile on his face. "On behalf of my companions and my faction, I offer my congratulations to Your Grace for your defeat of the Arishok and for making yourself Viscountess of Kirkwall as a mage. We greatly enjoyed hearing of your deeds."
"So I have heard," she said tautly.
"In fact, from our point of view, your ascension has contributed to reclaiming Kirkwall."
"Reclaiming?" she repeated, her tone sharp. "Magister, I don't know what your goals of 'restoring the glory of the Imperium,' as Varania's letter said, actually entail... but Kirkwall is a free and independent city. I will no more let it rejoin the Tevinter Imperium than I will let it rejoin the Orlesian Empire."
"Naturally," oozed Danarius. "We would not compromise your sovereignty. From our perspective, the fact that a mage, married to another mage in a fertile union, rules what was once Emerius is quite good enough. That is what I meant by 'reclaiming.' This city was once ruled by mages. Now it is again, as it should be."
I don't like the sound of this at all, she thought. "'Quite good enough,'" she repeated coolly. "Good enough for what? I'll ask again: What are the goals of the Venatori? The true, specific goals, not just a vague platitude?"
"We seek to change the internal politics of Tevinter to allow talented mages of... less fortunate circumstances... to have an easier path to achieving their ambitions," Danarius said slickly, "and by so elevating these mages, to return the Imperium to a great power of Thedas, rather than a pariah state locked in perpetual combat with the Qunari due to our own neutering of ourselves."
"What do you mean by a 'great power of Thedas'? Conquest?"
"Not of our allies," replied Danarius. "But do not think that we have not noticed the threat immediately to our south from the sanctimonious hypocrite of a princeling and the theocratic zealots in Tantervale. I understand that the doddering old woman who babied the princeling was conspiring to let the oxmen murder the former Viscount, and the proof offends him."
"Our complaint with Prince Sebastian goes well beyond what happened in Dragon 9:34," said Caitlyn. "Dumar is dead, the Qunari are gone, and there is a new Grand Cleric who is my ally. We think that his allies have been conspiring with zealots and ignorant mobs here in Kirkwall, as well as the Knight-Commander, to foment rebellion against me. Somehow," she said acidly, "I rather doubt that he and his allies have menaced Tevinter to that extent."
"It is true, most likely because he knows that he does not stand a chance of defeating us—and that is why we have come. We would not see these people overthrow you and grind your accomplishments to dust. We can offer you regular, significant infusions of gold immediately. We can also offer the support of hundreds of Tevinter's most powerful mages—and should war erupt, we would be in a good position to gain power in the Magisterium among those who wanted to help our southern brothers and sisters and saw the opportunity that war afforded to finally do that. If we had control of the Imperium, we have no doubt that we can conquer Starkhaven and Tantervale with little effort, and no one need know of your part in it. And if they declare a schism from your so-called Divine, would she really stir herself to reclaim them, so far from Orlais, if it meant going against the Imperium while already fighting a rebellion?"
In spite of herself, in spite of her anger on behalf of Fenris that this man had enslaved and abused him, in spite even of Danarius's too-slick tone, Caitlyn found something in his words compelling. Hundreds of Tevinter-trained mages to fight for Kirkwall, she thought. Hundreds of mages to fight for Kirkwall away from Kirkwall, in fact—to take the battle to Starkhaven and Tantervale. I'm not sure that Justinia would actually let the cities fall to Tevinter, but maybe they are right. Maybe, if she already had to fight a rebellion, she wouldn't want to fight on a second front. She spared a quick glance at Anders, who also looked thoughtful.
It is a good offer, she decided, meeting his eyes with hers, too good, in fact. There is something he hasn't told me. She raised her eyebrows a minuscule amount at Anders, who seemed to understand her nonverbal language and looked down at the table to avoid making eye contact with the Tevinters.
She took a deep breath. "Your offer is... tempting," she admitted. "I have to say, this surprises me, but it is true."
Danarius, Varania, and DuPuis all beamed.
"Now," she said, leaning forward, "what's the rest of it? What's the catch?"
"Catch?" repeated Danarius. "There is no catch, Your Grace. Of course there would be terms for you, but the ones we propose are not onerous."
"I'll be the judge of that when I hear what they are."
"Very well. We expect... the rumors are that your city is plagued by gangs and organized crime."
"And what of it?" she said defensively. "I have placed skilled battlemages in the City Guard to help fight those gangs. Some of the gangs, I have to say, capture people for enslavement and ship them to your country."
"We suspected as much, and we are prepared to help you deal with this."
Caitlyn was shocked. "Help me?" she said, knocked off balance. "You don't... you are against slavery now? You changed your mind?" If this is true, she thought quickly, I actually should make this alliance! I can't believe it.
"You misunderstand," Danarius said smoothly. "The strong should protect and rule the weak, as you do here, and slavery need not be abuse. Some of the Venatori, in fact, are former slaves whose masters saw their potential as mages. Varania is one such," he said with a nod to the elven woman. "The gang warfare in your city occurs when there is no single organization that they all fear. We could send a large team to 'claim' Kirkwall and keep all other... operations... from working here. That would eliminate almost all of the gang murders, and those we took would be guaranteed good lives in Tevinter with masters who treated them well. We would not take people with established lives. Of course, you would need to ensure that your City Guard left us be."
Anders tugged on her sleeve. "Can we talk in private?" he whispered.
She glowered at the guests, who were all smirking, as she stepped out of the room with Anders. They eased into the small room next door, where Varric was waiting outside for them to knock in code if they needed help.
"I think we... actually need to discuss their offer," said Anders.
Caitlyn stared at him, appalled. "Anders!" she exclaimed. "You cannot be considering this!"
He grimaced. "I know it sounds bad," he said in a rush, "but think about it. They would offer better lives to people like Darktown vagrants, Coterie muscle, and so on... and isn't it worth it to stop the gang killings and to have extremely powerful mage allies waiting for the signal? Let alone the gold they offer."
Her eyes widened in shock, and she stared at him as if she had never quite seen him before. "You're scaring me," she said. "They're proposing that I deliberately let their slaver gang operate here, stealing Kirkwall residents to enslave in Tevinter. However poorly they may live now, at least they are free."
"Are they?" he challenged. "Are we free, Caitlyn? Is Mal free? What if we need these people to keep Meredith from taking him? Danarius gave that elf freedom and let her join their faction. She's no slave... but what Meredith would do to Mal... what she would do to this little one, to Jo Beth..." He drew forward suddenly, touching her bump. "I would let magisters comb the city from top to bottom if that's what it took to protect our children. Anything, love. That was what we promised. Anything to protect them."
Caitlyn closed her eyes. Anders was frightening her, it was true... but at the same time, she could somewhat see his point. Which would be the greater evil, to knowingly allow slavers to operate in Kirkwall, perhaps abducting other people's children—and I wouldn't think they would leave street orphans alone—or to refuse their protection if it really did mean that my own child would be taken by a woman who would kill him if she took a fancy to do it? Which is worse, betraying my city as Viscountess or betraying my children as a mother? I've already made compromises, she realized. I let a power-hungry demagogue take over the Chantry, let her execute prisoners of war, and compromised away the sovereignty of the Dalish clan for the sake of keeping her as my ally. Disarmed Qunari prisoners died and Dalish elves lost some of their independence because of me, and although both of those things bothered me, in the end I was able to rationalize them because of the importance of my cause and my family's protection. Is this really worse?
She opened her eyes miserably and faced him. "I understand your point," she said. "It hurts to admit it... but I do understand. I do not know what I'd do if either of our children really would face unavoidable capture without a dark compromise. I... might make the compromise too." She took a deep breath. "But we don't know that they face that. We do not know that it really is that dire. And we know nothing about these 'Venatori' except what they have told us. They may not be honest about their agenda. They're definitely here without the sanction of the Tevinter government. I can't make this alliance, Anders. I hope you understand my point of view."
He looked momentarily disappointed—and frightened, which made her realize that his view really was informed by this fear, and which further decreased her dismay at what he had said—but then his expression changed to acceptance and understanding. He nodded and offered her his arm. "You're right. It seemed to me, for a moment, like a lifeline... a providential gift... and I was ready to make any excuse to take it. But you're right. I lost my conscience and sense for a moment."
She squeezed his hand, glad that he had made the admission and explained himself. He was just afraid of failure and afraid for their family, not amoral. She could understand that entirely; after all, she had just thought about the hard compromises that she herself had made.
I am pregnant and it is at a vulnerable stage. I don't want this to come to a fight, she thought, but if it does, I must win and win quickly. Caitlyn glanced at the wall opposite the door. Varric was waiting on the other side. She gave seven quick, staggered knocks, put her ear to the wall, and waited until she heard his quiet reply before entering the meeting room again.
Danarius, Varania, and DuPuis were all still smirking when Caitlyn and Anders reentered. She took her seat at the head of the table coolly, Anders sitting down beside her, and gazed out at them, her staff near at hand.
"We've made a decision," she said abruptly. "We cannot accept your terms as they are. I cannot protect a slaver cartel under any circumstances."
The smirks on the Venatori's faces faded immediately. Danarius glowered at them. "You have made a big mistake," he declared.
"Time will tell as to that," she replied. "However, we are still willing to negotiate, provided that you understand slavery is off the table, and pending my own additional research into your faction."
He scowled, then looked up at her. "You won't find much that you can trust. We are a new faction, and most of the other magisters regard us with disdain. If you credit what our enemies say of us, you are no ally."
"I am no ally of any faction in Tevinter, because Tevinter politics have been none of my concern," she said. She was ready to dismiss the lot of them in irritation and disgust when the door burst open.
Everyone at the table jumped as Fenris stormed heatedly into the room, followed by Isabela and Varric. "You," he seethed to his old master. "I should have known this was a trap." He glared at Caitlyn and Anders. "And were you negotiating handing me over?"
"What?" Caitlyn exclaimed. "Of course not! What are you talking about, anyway? Did one of them contact you?"
"She did," he snarled, glaring at Varania.
"Now that you mention it, there is my counter-offer," snapped Danarius. "No protection, no army of mages—but the gold we offered, if you let me take him back to Tevinter where he belongs."
"What?" Fenris roared, glaring in fury at Caitlyn for, apparently, even listening to his former master make an offer of gold.
"Fenris, this is not how it sounds," she protested. "I did let him speak, and he did offer gold, but I was about to dismiss them."
"You were going to let him go, even knowing who he was?" Fenris's neck was pulsing dangerously.
"I am with child," she said. "I don't want to fight them. I wouldn't have interfered if you had wanted to pursue him, but..." She trailed off, suddenly ashamed of herself.
Varania spoke up. "We would have met anyway. As he said, I wrote to him to arrange a meeting. I am his sister."
Anders laughed bitterly. "A mage! It has always been jealousy, hasn't it?"
Fenris looked around the room as though deciding whom he wanted most to hurt. He breathed heavily. "I don't believe you," he snapped, finally deciding on Varania. "You are working for him to try to capture me again."
"He was going to raise me to a magister!" she burst out. "That is what... his politics..."
"Power," Fenris spat. "That's all any of you mages care about!"
"I am your sister," Varania insisted. "I can tell you how you got those markings... Leto."
"What?"
"That was your name. Your birth name. You competed for the lyrium markings in a tournament to win freedom for your family!"
Fenris glowered at her. "If I did, some reward this is! You come here with him to lure me in so that he will enslave me again!"
Caitlyn stood up, grabbing her staff tightly. "That's enough," she declared. "Fenris is not a slave!" She turned to Danarius, Varania, and DuPuis angrily. "I suggest that you all... leave. Though I won't stop anyone who wants to pursue you."
In that moment, Gascard DuPuis, who had been quiet through most of the meeting, spoke up, a smirk gracing his face. "I think not," he said. "It would be very unfortunate if the Viscountess of Kirkwall were revealed to all of Thedas to be a blood mage. Wouldn't you agree, Hawke?"
Rage, shock, and fear filled Caitlyn's mind. She barely registered the look of betrayal on Fenris's face at this. She almost forgot her pregnancy. The fact that he had dared to blackmail her—to threaten her with exposure—was all that she could think of. She snarled a spell, and a fireball of searing intensity blasted the guests backward in their seats, their robes aflame.
But even as Anders, Fenris, Varric, and Isabela began to fight, the others were on their feet, their enchanted swords drawn, slashing and casting with them at once. Her three friends instantly engaged with Danarius and Varania, leaving Caitlyn and Anders to take on Gascard DuPuis.
"I let you go!" Caitlyn screamed at him, blasting him with a force spell—defiantly, since this was the school of magic that she had learned to replace blood magic. "I showed you mercy, and this is how you repay me?"
"Mercy?" DuPuis sneered as he cast. "Mercy for what? I did nothing to you. Your mother didn't die, and you had no right to dismiss me from town. You were nothing then!"
"And yet you left." A blast of cold from her staff struck him, chilling him.
He shook it off. "It was leave or die!"
"It certainly was, and you could have kept your life if you'd stayed the Void out of Kirkwall!"
"You hypocrite!" he exclaimed as Anders got him with a painful electrical spell. He stumbled to the ground, twitching and gasping. "You condemned me, but do you know who else worked with Quentin?"
"It can't be anyone I know, so I don't care."
DuPuis gazed up at them, anger and hate seething from his face. "Orsino," he hissed. "The First Enchanter."
Shocked, she momentarily stopped casting spells. "That's a lie."
"You haven't... his papers..." He coughed, blood spattering the ground.
Across the room, Fenris hovered over a fallen, bleeding Danarius, who was pleading for his life. Fenris scoffed, and in a lethal arc, plunged his hand into the magister's chest and crushed his heart.
Varania shrieked and backed into a corner. "Please!" she screamed. "Please, spare me!"
"Why should I?" barked Fenris. "You wrote to me to trap me into coming here. You were willing to barter my freedom so that you could be a magister."
"Fenris," Varric spoke up, hoisting Bianca onto his back, "don't do this."
Caitlyn finally turned aside from the dying DuPuis and gazed miserably at him. "She is your sister," she said feebly. "I would give almost anything to have my sister back."
"Your sister wouldn't have sold you to a slaver lord," he spat.
She sighed; there was nothing she could say to that.
To her surprise, Anders rose up. His face and voice were hard. "I never thought I would say this, but... I understand Fenris. My father gave me up to be locked away. And I can never forgive him for it."
Varania's eyes grew wide with horror as she realized what was about to happen, but everyone else in the room looked away sharply as Fenris reached into her chest with his lyrium-infused hand.
The room grew silent as they all realized that the three foreign mages were dead. Varric and Isabela slumped unhappily against the wall, and Caitlyn rested her head on the tabletop, burying her face in her crossed arms. A soft touch on her back reassured her that Anders was trying to comfort her—but in the next second, a heavier weight pressed against her right side, and she realized that he was cuddling her to comfort himself as well. Soft sobs began to escape him. "What have we become?" he whispered next to her ear, so quietly that no one else could hear.
I don't know, she thought, unable to think of anything to say, but whatever it is, I do not like it.
"Is it true?"
Fenris's angry voice broke the stillness. Caitlyn raised her head, gazing glassily at him. She needed no elucidation. "It was true," she said in broken tones. "I used to... for a couple of years. But I haven't cast a single blood magic spell since the day of the Qunari attack. I gave it up. People can change, Fenris. And I would never, ever have let them take you into slavery or prey on people here. I swear."
He was silent, taking it in, trying to withhold his own anger and betrayal before responding. Finally, when he did speak, it was not even in response to what she had said. With an angry, yet somewhat regretful, glance at Varania's body, he muttered, "You were right. It doesn't help. Nothing does. We get hurt and we never, ever heal."
She tried to gather her thoughts. "We heal... and it leaves a scar," she said quietly. "We're never the same as before. But... Danarius is gone now. He is dead, Fenris. You won. You beat him. Don't let him hurt you anymore."
He sighed heavily, his breath suddenly turning to a shudder. "I hope that this doesn't cause problems for you," he said, his tone curt.
She realized the immensity of what it took for him to say that. "They were not representing the Imperium," she assured him. "They were here on behalf of their own faction, which, now that they are all gone and I can see this with clearer eyes, seems more than a bit dodgy. If these Venatori were a legitimate movement, they wouldn't have tried to broker an unsanctioned alliance with a foreign head of state at all. I... have a feeling that we may have just had an escape from something truly awful."
"It's not over," Anders said grimly. He glowered at the body of Gascard DuPuis. "We never did go through the papers of that murderer, but we should now. If Orsino did conspire with him, I bet anything that's what Meredith is using to blackmail him."
Notes: The Venatori existed before Corypheus got at them, so I've taken a big liberty here. There are some things about the Fenris-Varania story that don't make much sense to me, particularly her conviction that an elf could be made a magister. But if this is taken as true, and Danarius really did mean to elevate her, I actually think that can be used to support an AU in which they are both Venatori. Corypheus instilled human supremacy into the group, but before he got involved, a mage like Calpernia actually did want to make Tevinter more meritocratic... only for powerful mages from the lower classes, admittedly, but there was the sprout of a reform agenda in the beginning. If the privileges of being a mage citizen of Tevinter should be available to powerful mages who are human slaves, maybe it could mean powerful mages who are elves too. In any case, if Varania's claim is taken as true, then Danarius was all right with elven magisters if they're powerful mages but was also a sleazy, abusive slave master. That doesn't fit Dorian's faction, but it could fit the pre-Corypheus Venatori, so I've made it so for this AU.
Gascard DuPuis did not change his ways in this AU because Leandra was not murdered and Caitlyn was extremely hostile with him. Her letting him go was not an unlooked-for act of mercy following a horrible crime against her family to which he was connected. Instead, she threatened him into leaving Kirkwall even though she was guilty of hypocrisy at the time regarding blood magic—and even acknowledged that to him, defiantly and self-righteously ("Yes, I do it, but I feel bad about it"). He didn't feel any obligation to her or guilt about the kind of magic he used... and then he took up with the Venatori.
