Notes: The song is the traditional piece "Scarborough Fair."
Also, here's Seeker Cassandra (and Seeker Lucius), and this is an unmitigated fix-it. I cannot stand that she abuses and berates Varric all the time in canon. It's not funny to me; it's just hateful and willfully blind. He has plenty of reasons not to trust Hawke to the Seekers in canon (especially a Hawke who romanced and/or sided with Anders). So this association starts off better despite Lucius's presence—much better.
To my reviewer, don't worry, Meredith is going to die, probably sooner than you think. And as for Sebastian, you make some good points, which occurred to me as well when I was writing this. What he knew and what he thinks of the attack will also be revealed soon, and he'll have an enjoyable arc through the war part of the story.
Chapter 57: Between the Saltwater and the Sea Sand
Three days after Caitlyn's public memorial, a messenger from the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux arrived in Kirkwall bearing news—the same news Caitlyn had learned from Leliana's raven, but this was official. Divine Justinia had stayed the two policies that would have allowed mage children or mage spouses to live outside the Circle.
In the chaos of the days leading up to Satinalia, and then, of course, the monstrous crime itself and the mourning that followed it, Caitlyn had almost forgotten that the Divine had suspended these policies until someone found a text to support them. Now, after mage-haters had murdered eight hundred people, and it seemed very likely that the Knight-Commander had helped them and that they had had foreign assistance from Starkhaven or Tantervale, Caitlyn could hardly stomach this unpleasant reminder of the reality that she faced. Meredith's gloating after word reached the city made it even worse.
What kind of depraved monster takes joy in tearing children from their parents merely because of what they are? she thought mutinously. What sick, hate-filled mind wants to break apart loving spouses for no reason?
The same kind of mind that probably conspired with people planning a massacre, she answered herself—and this did not help with anything but to enhance her anger.
Anders was angry too, and disturbed as well. That very same day, Thrask arranged for a private meeting with the two of them to tell them his suspicions.
"Samson has not been in Templar quarters since the night before the massacre," he told them grimly, keeping his voice low even though they were in the Keep.
"You think he was Mettin's accomplice?" Caitlyn said shrewdly. "The one who escaped?"
"I cannot prove it, because Templars do sometimes go missing—there are, unfortunately, actual bands of maleficarum, who practice ritual sacrifice—"
"We know," she interrupted. "They often head slaver gangs. I have been trying to get rid of them. They sully all mages—in addition to the obvious evil, of course."
Thrask nodded. "It's good work that you've been doing. But my point is, sometimes Templars do die honorably in the course of our duties, and I suppose it is possible that this happened to Samson. I... wouldn't think that there would be any more bodies from the massacre that are unaccounted for."
"Not at this point. Aveline, Alain, and Cullen have done sweeps of the city to make sure of it." Cullen had been at loose ends since his resignation from the Templars. He was not taking direct orders from the Guard, but was working as an auxiliary, and due to that fact, he seemed to regard Caitlyn as his immediate superior rather than Aveline. It felt odd to her, but she was coming to accept him as another of her vigilantes, just one who had Templar abilities.
"Then barring some other incident that same night, and barring the concealment or... forgive me... complete destruction of his body... yes, I think Samson was the accomplice. He was already friends with Mettin and had come to view things the same way."
"You said once that they were sharing lyrium," Anders interjected.
"I think they were, and knowing what we now do, much is explained. I also wonder about the armor."
"What do you mean, exactly?" Anders asked.
"I wonder where it came from. There is a smithy in the Gallows, of course, where Tranquil do the grunt work involving raw lyrium, but I cannot imagine that Samson could have commissioned it there without anyone knowing. There are too many Templars who are not part of Meredith's inner circle. And red lyrium seems to harm even those without a Fade connection, yet that armor has multiple runes of it. Someone likely caused numerous Tranquil to die making it. I definitely didn't see Tranquil disappear, and I would notice, since it wasn't done to anyone else after Your Grace executed Alrik and his associates."
"Mettin was exiled from the Templars last year and he almost certainly went north," Caitlyn said. "Tantervale, Hercinia, and Starkhaven all have Circles, and at least two of those Circles are run similarly to how Meredith long ran this one, with Tranquility inflicted like raindrops in a storm. It was probably made there, along with some of the mob's weapons." She sighed, rubbing her head. "I wish I had not given the order to kill everyone. More captives to question would have been useful. But it seemed too much of a risk to take."
"There's no point in reliving what can't be changed," Thrask said. "You are probably correct about the north, though. As horrid as that red lyrium is, the armor has very fine workmanship, and the runes are very effective, though terrible. It wasn't made in some back-alley smithy."
When he had left to return to his post, Caitlyn stared at her folded hands for several minutes until Anders spoke again.
"Are you all right?" he said.
She looked up. "I suppose. I am debating..." She trailed off.
He raised his eyebrows.
She sighed, aware that she might as well complete the thought now. "I'm debating issuing a declaration of war," she said. His eyes widened, but she felt oddly relieved to have said it at last. "I strongly suspect that they armed the mob and made that armor for Mettin and Samson. In the week before the massacre, people were carrying around that seditious broadsheet, which Aveline was unable to trace to a printer in Kirkwall. Even if most of those people were originally from here, if another sovereign city armed them and sent them here with propaganda, that's an act of war against Kirkwall."
Anders drew back slightly, surprised and a little frightened, yet also awed and proud of her. "I think it's probably inevitable," he said quietly, "so perhaps you should write a declaration so as to have it ready. But... we don't have proof that the Alliance of the Faithful armed them. It's just very suspicious."
"Is that former Crow, Zevran, still poking around their homes and rooms?"
Anders nodded. "He is. He's focusing on the rooms, of course, because they're easier to get into than houses that probably still have residents. He told me this morning that he had gathered up every scrap of paper he could find in the Lowtown tavern rooms where dead murderers had been staying. He's going through the papers now, he said. He just wanted to get them out of these rooms before the innkeepers destroyed all the reprobates' old belongings."
"All right," Caitlyn said, "so long as he knows that time is running short."
"I think he does. He was flippant the morning after the massacre—"
"Inappropriately so."
"Very," Anders agreed, "but having gotten to know him better, I think it is a defense mechanism. He's seen a lot of death."
"Inflicted a lot of death, and before he served Lady Cousland, it was not in self-defense or the defense of others."
"No... but he wasn't born a monster, so he had to have a way to cope. He understands the gravity of what happened on Satinalia Eve. I used to be a bit like that myself, long ago, kind of flippant as a way to avoid dwelling on darkness." He sighed. "Before Lothering. After that, I just... couldn't again. It sounds terrible that this is what it took, but it touched me personally, and that was the end of my capacity to ignore it with black humor."
She gave him a loose, gentle hug. "I loved who you were then and I love who you are now. And you have been happy since then."
He squeezed her back for a second. "I have been," he agreed. "Finding that you and Mal were alive... meeting him at last... falling in love with you again, exchanging vows, seeing changes finally begin, and now..." He touched her large baby bump, smiling.
She smiled back. "This too will pass," she suddenly declared. "My letter to Leliana about the massacre and the red lyrium probably has not even reached Orlais yet. When it does, Justinia will have something very different to say to us. Let Meredith gloat for now. You and I knew about the stay anyway. The fact that she knows about it too now doesn't change anything." She tried to rise to her feet, but her belly suddenly cramped, eliciting a frown of pain from her and causing her to hobble sharply, knees bent.
Anders grabbed her around the waist to steady her. "Are you all right?" he said anxiously.
She nodded, though waves from the cramp still rippled through her abdomen. "I think so."
"Did your water break? Do you feel like you're going into labor?"
She shook her head. "Just a sudden pain. I'm sure it's nothing."
"Still..." He lifted her gently to her feet and kept an arm around her waist to support her. "Better to be careful. You've exerted yourself a lot lately."
She had no objection as he escorted her back into the inner Keep and into the family sitting room, where Mal, her mother, Carver, and Merrill were busy.
Caitlyn's occasional pains became more frequent as the day turned into evening and then night. She picked at her dinner, forcing food down even though she had no taste for it. She was wondering if this really might be the onset of labor. She hoped not—the baby still was not due for a full month—but she allowed that it was possible. However, it felt different from what she had experienced with Mal's birth. During that experience, she had told her mother what she was feeling, and Leandra had confirmed with certainty that they were labor pains. This was... different somehow. There had also been the unmistakable surge of fluid with Mal, which was absent for... whatever this was.
It's probably just stress, she thought. I have certainly been under a lot of that lately. As she bedded down next to Anders, cuddling against his warm body in the hope that it would help her go to sleep quickly, she was able to convince herself of that.
That night, she had an exceedingly unpleasant dream—in some ways, a repeat of her dream of four years ago that she had before she went to the ancient Warden fortress. As she had then, she walked a long Fade path with a heavy crown on her head and blood dripping from her feet, though now, she knew all too well that both things were real. The gash in the sky was now a vast cavern, so huge and so close that she felt she could touch it.
Mal suddenly appeared in front of her on the path. He was older than he was yet in life, and his face was accusatory. Beside him stood a beautiful little girl with thick, golden blonde curls, identical to Anders' hair color, who was also glaring at Caitlyn in fury.
"You did this," Mal snarled, and her heart broke at the rage in his voice. "You caused this. And you didn't even think of it until it was too late!"
Another child joined them and pointed at Caitlyn in accusation. "My uncle judges you," said this child, a girl a little shorter than Mal, who seemed familiar. The girl from the night of the massacre, Caitlyn thought, but the name was unreachable in her memory.
More and more children joined them, crying, yelling, pointing at her.
"Our parents are gone and you set loose their murderer!"
"You cost us everything! You betrayed mages! Mage children!"
Caitlyn had no idea what they were talking about, what she had done, but she still felt awful about it. I didn't want to, she thought desperately, trying to will herself awake. I didn't want to. It's not real anyway. It's just my own fear that I will fail. That's it. That's all it is...
She woke up in the middle of the night, leaving behind the awful nightmare, feeling her own memories of the dream grow mercifully fuzzy as the sudden physical reality slammed into her. Her stomach was turning somersaults, and she felt like she had been sleeping in a cold, wet, clammy cave. It was Firstfall, and the Keep was drafty, but they kept wood burning. This was something else. Shaking and shivering from chills that she knew, in her whirling mind, had to be from fever, she only barely made it to the lavatory as she heaved her guts over the washbasin.
Her knees buckled, and she began to tumble to the hard floor. She grabbed for the basin, clutching it as if her life depended on it. A wave of nausea roiled her again, and she heaved a second time. Less came up this time. Tears began to pour from her face as she lay her head down on the marble. It was cold and unpleasant, but maybe it would at least support her if she passed out... maybe it would keep her from crashing to the floor...
The waves of nausea mingled with sharp pains from lower in her belly, like she had experienced in the outer Keep, but she was too disoriented to distinguish between them. It was all the same sensory choir of the Void to her now: the pains, the physical weakness, the whirl of disjointed thoughts, and the clammy, unnatural cold. She whimpered in pain and began to sob.
In a moment, she felt a new sensation: arms around her waist. In the back of her fevered mind, she realized that it was probably Anders, and in the next moment, his soothing, if worried, voice filled her ears. "I've got you," he murmured, pulling her away from the washbasin. "Maker, you're burning up!"
That didn't make sense, and she protested as much to him. "No," she mumbled. "'m cold. Not hot."
"You have a fever. A high one," he added, worry now apparent to her even through the fog. "Hold onto me."
She was aware enough to understand this, and she gripped his shoulders as tightly as she could manage, though her grip felt weak to her. Everything felt weak to her right now. It was as if whatever illness had suddenly struck her had taken all of her strength away. She let Anders steer her back to bed, lay her on her back, and begin to examine her with his magic. Blue-white clouds of light illuminated the room as he cast diagnostic spells at her. She thought, vaguely, that he was casting other spells too, healing spells of some variety, because she felt the skin-crawling cold subside, replaced uncomfortably quickly with a hot flash and beads of sweat. He is doing something to reduce the fever, she thought, and my mind is clearing too—but holy Maker! If my mind was fogged because of fever, then my fever was higher than it has ever been before. It was dangerously high. What is wrong with me? Her heart began to race, and she began to feel faint again for that reason.
An oath escaped him at last, and real fear filled his face, as his diagnostic tests subsided. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, turned aside for a moment, and then turned back to face her. His face was as serious as she had ever seen it. "Caitlyn," he said urgently, "can you follow what I'm saying? Do you understand me?"
Despite the physical weakness and palpitations, she was cogent now, so she nodded.
"You..." He closed his eyes again momentarily, then opened them again. "This is not your fault. But you're... something has gone wrong. With your pregnancy," he said, blanching.
Panic filled her as her mind instantly fixed upon the worst possible scenario, that her baby had died in the womb and this was the reaction of her body to that—to her daughter's corpse. "No," she gasped. "Please, no, not this late—"
"It's... something that happens sometimes," he said. "I can treat the symptoms, but it's going to continue until you give birth."
This calmed her a bit. She breathed in and out, taking in what he said. "She is... alive, then?"
His eyes popped wide as he realized what she feared, and he immediately enveloped her in a hug. "Oh, Maker, yes," he said, his breath next to her left ear. "I didn't mean... I'm so sorry for not being clearer. Yes, she is alive."
Caitlyn tried to order her thoughts. "It's a month yet," she said in a whisper. "You mean that this is going to happen for a month?"
"Sometimes the placenta, the part that nourishes and... cleans... the baby, has a problem," he said reluctantly. "Yours ruptured at five months, when Meredith—" He broke off, too angry to even finish the sentence, and collected himself as a flash of Justice's light passed over his body. He did not need to; she knew exactly what he meant and glowered as well at the memory. "I healed it," he continued, "but apparently it still was fragile. And you've been under an immense amount of stress, plus the exposure to red lyrium."
"Then it is my fault!" she exclaimed.
"You did what you had to do for the city, for our family, and for mages," he whispered, stricken again. "I can treat the symptoms for a month, but... I don't know what it will mean for her. The only cure is delivery."
Caitlyn tried to take in what he was saying. "Mother gave birth to Carver and Bethany early," she said, "because they were twins."
He nodded. "She should survive. She'll be small, though."
For a brief moment, Caitlyn remembered the small, though ethereally beautiful, girl in her dream, who stood next to Mal. Was that what their daughter would look like? How much of that dream was—
She pushed that out of her mind at once. "I know you cannot put aside that this is your daughter and I am your wife, but as a Healer, what would you do?"
He hesitated only for a moment. "I would induce labor. This struck you suddenly and it was very bad when it did. But it is your decision."
She closed her eyes and folded her hands over her bump. Her daughter kicked, as if aware that her mother's hands were so close. But Caitlyn realized that this might be a kick of distress—and with that, her decision was made.
"Do it," she said. She opened her eyes and gazed unhappily at him. "I'm so sorry, love. You didn't get to deliver Mal, because of a Templar—and now, for this to be what it's like when you do deliver a child of ours, partly because of another Templar—"
Compassion filled his face. "It's all right," he said quietly. "I will get to do it, at least. You'll both be fine." He reached for her hands and squeezed them, smiling in spite of everything. "She'll be little. But we will take care of her."
"Tell the others," she urged him. "Mal especially, but... they're all in the Keep, so tell them all, please. They won't mind that it's the middle of the night. Not for this."
He smiled back. "I agree."
Caitlyn relaxed on the pillow, or attempted to, as he left the room to tell her family and friends. She placed her hands over the bump again. Johanna Bethany, she thought. Jo Beth. I've carried you inside my body for eight months, but we're about to meet at last. I wish I could have carried you for the full amount of time I should have... I'm so sorry that I wasn't able to give you the full period to grow and be ready... but I will protect you with my life, like I would your brother. You have a whole family that will do anything for you, little one. And you're about to meet us.
Anders soon returned with Leandra, Carver, and Mal in tow. Gamlen was grouchy and had muttered that he could wait till morning since there was nothing he could do for mother or baby, and Merrill and Charade had volunteered to inform the others in their group of friends and let them decide as well whether to come to the Keep. That suited Caitlyn. Merrill had apparently been in Carver's room, which ordinarily would have been more than enough for Caitlyn's ears, but tonight, she could not spare a thought for such things.
Mal was very worried, even though his father had assured him that it would be all right. He rushed to Caitlyn's beside, hugging her. "I want her to be all right," he whispered. "And you too. But it's too soon for her, isn't it?"
"It's early," Caitlyn acknowledged, returning the hug, "but not dangerously early. Right now it is safer for her just to be born. I was sick earlier..."
"Father told me," Mal whispered. He released his mother and stepped away. "And the Knight-Commander hurt her before. Father said that was part of the reason this happened. I love my sister. I want her to be all right."
"She should be," Anders said, gently steering him toward Leandra, who took him in hand and urged him away from his parents.
There were specialized spells to induce labor. Anders had learned them as part of the study of healing, though he had not used them until he left the Circle—much to his sorrow and anger in Dragon 9:28. In Ferelden, female Circle mages were petrified of carrying babies that would be taken from them and therefore either sneaked the ingredients for contraceptive potions or simply did not go beyond "fooling around," if their proclivities were for men. But although Anders had missed the chance for his firstborn to be his first delivery, he had performed these spells on patients in Kirkwall. It was a relief that Caitlyn, his beloved, would not be his first patient for these spells now. He valued all his patients, but the additional, personal stress and anxiety of this night would have made it unbearable if he were a novice at the spells too.
He focused on Cait and on the fact that his magic would bring his daughter out of danger—well, out of this specific danger, he thought darkly for a moment—and into the world. His healing magic would save them both from pain and suffering. It would give Mal the little sister he longed to meet. At last, Anders thought as he began to cast the spells to dilate her, I can deliver my own child.
As recently as a year ago, he was unsure if he would ever have that chance. Now it was happening. Anders tried to push aside all dark, fearful, or regretful thoughts, and instead to store these memories forever in his mind, like treasures. As he glanced at Caitlyn, he could tell that through the haze of discomfort that she visibly began to feel, she felt the same.
Caitlyn's friends began to enter the inner Keep soon. Fenris, Isabela, Aveline, Donnic, and then, finally, Merrill herself came by the bedroom to let her know that they were there. Anders did not want people crowding Caitlyn, so he quickly shooed them away except for Leandra and Mal, but she was glad to have seen them and to know that they had come to visit her late at night. At last Charade stepped back inside with the person Caitlyn had been specifically wanting to see, the one she knew was living in his room at the Hanged Man in Lowtown rather than close by in a Hightown manor: Varric.
"You're all right, Hawke?" he said. "Looks uncomfortable to me—"
"It is," she said wryly. "But I assume Anders would tell me if something had gone wrong." From the foot of the bed, Anders gave a thumbs-up signal, occupied with his work.
"This is a month early," Caitlyn said, "and I will need to take up a lot of time with her as a consequence. I expect Anders will want to spend as much time as possible with her too..." Another thumbs-up from the foot of the bed. She continued, "So, Varric, I am asking if you would be Regent during this time." She held her breath, hoping that Anders would not take offense. She did think that he would want to spend time with the family and see as much as possible of his baby, since he had missed that with Mal, but after the fiasco that had unfolded when she had made him Regent, she did not want to risk it again.
He was quiet, as was Varric, but he did not seem insulted. Caitlyn could not see, but the two men exchanged glances—Varric silently asking for permission, Anders giving it—before Varric spoke again. "It would be an honor," he said.
Leandra took Mal into the hall after a couple of hours. Anders continued to work until dawn, with Caitlyn growing more and more uncomfortable, both from the pain and from the sweat and body heat that she was generating from her struggle. Mal had been born at full term, and Bethany and Leandra had delivered him rather than a specialized Healer, but even so, this was worse than his birth. He had been ready to enter the world; this baby—Jo Beth—was being forced into it earlier than she should have been.
But at last, with the rising sun, it was over. Caitlyn felt a searing pain and then a relaxation. A piercing, shrill scream broke the early morning silence, and in spite of everything, a smile formed on Caitlyn's face at what that meant. Anders took the baby in his arms and cast an immense blue glow at both of them, which relieved a lot of Caitlyn's pain as it washed over her.
"Look at you," he murmured to the person in his arms. Caitlyn managed to prop herself up a little to have a look.
Anders was cradling the baby, the smallest baby that Caitlyn had ever seen, but all was clearly well, for he was not showing any sign of fear for her. Instead, he was radiant, a brilliant, gleaming white smile of joy adorning his face—joy and disbelief at the tiny perfect person he held. His smile reached his eyes, illuminating them with happiness. Caitlyn had never seen him so happy.
"Here," he said, crawling on the bed beside her. "Meet your mum." He passed the baby to his wife's outstretched arms.
Caitlyn took her daughter and held her closely. Her memories could get muddied with time, she knew, but she believed this baby—Jo, she thought—did not weigh more than perhaps two-thirds of Mal's birth weight, if that. She was small and lightweight. She was not dangerously thin; there was baby fat, but... but not as much as there should have been, she thought, cuddling Jo against her bosom. It's all right. Mamma's got you. I'll keep you warm until you can do it all yourself.
Despite the early date, there was a small crop of blonde fuzz on her head. Caitlyn thought again of the blonde little girl in her nightmare, her hair the same gold as Anders'. Mal's hair had been identical to his father's at birth too, but it had become redder as the years had passed, and now nobody would consider him even a "strawberry blond." She didn't care what her children came to look like, of course, but it was still impossible not to speculate and wonder what Jo Beth's future held in all respects.
I couldn't give her your exact name, Bethany, she thought as she turned the tiny baby to take her first meal. It was too painful. But I hope that you're pleased. I'll tell her all about her namesake on my side of the family... and Anders will tell her about his mother...
With that, she remembered her own mother. "You can let them back in," she told Anders. "The family, I mean."
He gave her a smile, caressed Jo Beth's head as she nursed, and got off the bed to go to the door. Caitlyn missed the shared warmth of his presence, but a smile rapidly filled her face as her mother, brother, and son burst in, Mal leading the way, eager to see his baby sister.
"She's small," the boy observed, as Anders sat back down on the bed and placed an arm around Caitlyn.
"She is," Anders said, smiling, "but she's fine. And so is your mother."
He observed, shaking his head after a moment. "I know babies do it, but it's just... ugh. I can't believe that I ever drank... ew."
Caitlyn laughed aloud, cuddling Jo Beth close to be sure that she did not unlatch. The baby surely could not have any control over her hands yet, but tiny fingers still spread across Caitlyn's bosom as if Jo Beth had figured out that that would help her. "You did, though," she said. "So did I almost thirty years ago, from your grandmother!"
Leandra smiled. "I'm glad that you are not hiring a wet nurse."
Caitlyn and Anders shook their heads at once. "We want to experience all of these moments together," she said, "and also... not to bring outside darkness into this... but I would have difficulty trusting a stranger to that degree now. After all that has happened."
Leandra nodded solemnly. "I understand. Let's not think of it, then. It will demand your attention soon enough. This is a happy moment; let's treasure it."
Over the next several days, there was business to attend to. Since Jo Beth's birth had not been expected for another month, Caitlyn had to notify her allies in Ferelden and Markham of the baby's arrival. Before that, there was the matter of informing the city itself. This created a mild political kerfuffle when the Grand Cleric invited herself to the Keep, affronted that she had not been told along with Caitlyn's friends that Anders had had to induce early labor.
"I would have come to the Keep and offered prayers through the night!" Petrice exclaimed when she had been admitted to the family parlor. "It is the proper thing even when all is well, let alone when there are complications!"
Anders glowered at the priest, and Caitlyn held her baby defensively close. She really did not want to deal with Petrice's nonsense right now. "We meant no offense," she said, and that was true, at least. "Anders was confident that all would be well once he began the delivery. It was early, but it was a normal birth, and her life was not at risk once I began labor."
The priest pursed her lips. "Many of us forget to pray unless we see danger. We must do better to remember the Maker, but I understand. Nonetheless, it is best that this not get out. People will think that you put your faith in magic and dismiss the Maker's hand. Given the evil thing that happened recently because of who you are, there is sympathy for Kirkwall. Do not squander it."
Caitlyn gazed narrowly at her. "The people I informed, who came to the Keep, are my family and closest friends. It won't 'get out' unless you spread it," she said pointedly.
"Or unless others think about it and realize that I did not leave the Chantry the night of your daughter's birth."
"Deliveries are sometimes quick," Anders spoke up, to Caitlyn's surprise. "If anyone tries to create trouble over that, we can say that it was over too quickly for you to get here."
The priest considered this for a moment before nodding in agreement. "It works. And of course, she will be named into the faith as soon as you are able to bring her to the Chantry."
Caitlyn stole a glance at Mal, who was seated across the large room, playing with the dog and cat while his uncle Carver watched. He had been named into the faith in Lothering, in a Chantry that was probably long gone, by Leliana. Bethany had been alive and Anders had been gone. So much had changed...
She brought her thoughts back to the present. "Of course," she said.
This seemed to satisfy the cleric, who gazed at the small baby with an uneasy look, and then turned back to her parents. "She is a blessing, but she is small and vulnerable. And I do not fault you for choosing to devote yourselves to her care personally, given the myriad of threats that you face, but the fact that you have chosen this means that you are vulnerable too. You know it is true, Lord Anders," she said when he looked to object. "There are unscrupulous people who will consider her early birth to be something to take advantage of, rather than a reason to call a temporary truce. And most of our adversaries fall into that category."
As she walked off, Caitlyn and Anders exchanged uneasy glances at the realization that she was correct.
Despite the priest's dark warning, over the next couple of days, Caitlyn found that she was enjoying just having a baby again, and despite the fact that Jo Beth's second namesake was not with them, it was still so much better with Anders present. For the first days—no, the first three and a half years—of Mal's life, she had been under a mix of emotions, and happiness at being a mother was one of them, but the others were negative and very strong.
She could not completely shove everything aside. Even though the grief was not fresh and raw, she still felt pangs for the fact that her father and sister were not with them anymore. Her guilt, anger, and grief about the massacre and the attacks that had preceded it, her anxiety about the approaching conflict, and her sorrow that a private family life had been denied to her still intruded. But when she was holding her daughter close, with Mal curling jealously against her because he wanted parental affection too, and Anders watched his wife and children with that awed, enraptured look on his face that she had seen just after the birth, her thoughts were fixed on this—on her family. In this moment, for this brief time, she could focus on the joy and warmth she felt at taking care of this small girl who needed her so much. She could, for this brief time, escape the unpleasant reality for the lost dream of how it might have been.
A week after Jo Beth's birth, a pair of unexpected guests arrived, presenting themselves at the Keep. They wore the sunburst heraldry of the Chantry—and also a different symbol, the symbol of an eye surrounded by flame. Seneschal Bran showed them to Varric, who was acting as Regent for a few more days.
"You're Seekers," he noted, eyeing their livery.
"We are, Regent Tethras," said one of them, a woman with short dark hair, almost black. She spoke with a heavy Nevarran accent. "I am Cassandra Pentaghast and this is Lucius Corin, and we are indeed of the Seekers of Truth."
Her companion, a pale-skinned man with nondescript dirty blond hair, smiled in acknowledgment.
"Divine Justinia sent us to Kirkwall to investigate some troubling matters," Cassandra continued imperiously. "Of course, we have learned of the shocking insurrection attempt and massacre, and the Viscountess sent a letter to the Divine's Left Hand about... private matters that arose from that."
"Oh, you mean red lyrium," Varric said casually. When the Seekers gaped in surprise, he continued. "You act surprised that I know about it. I didn't see Hawke's letter, but she must not have mentioned the fact that I have intimate and highly unwanted knowledge of it—or perhaps Justinia didn't mention it." He glowered for a second. "That shit drove my brother out of his mind."
Seeker Lucius seemed offended at Varric's use of profanity, but Cassandra continued without making note of it. "I do not know what, precisely, Her Grace wrote, it is true. I was given instructions but was not shown the letter. As a matter of fact, I am surprised that we are not speaking with her. Is she indisposed?"
"Haven't you heard? She was pregnant and had the baby a week ago."
Cassandra shifted, surprised. "I was under the impression that her child was due in the middle of Haring."
"It was." Varric let this statement hang in the air for a moment, as the Seekers took in the implications and just why Varric was Regent, before he continued. "She's in the inner Keep, in fact, and I can have her informed that you are here, if you are really insistent on talking with her. Is my company that unpleasant, Seeker?" he added, unable to resist.
Cassandra huffed, unwilling to reply to that. Varric smirked and settled into his chair. "The baby is well. Small, needs her mother a lot, but well. I'm sure Hawke and Anders could come out for a bit, though. Their family is extremely close-knit and someone will probably be able to care for her just as well."
The Seekers seemed taken aback by the casual way that Varric spoke of the Viscountess and Consort of Kirkwall, but finally, Cassandra cleared her throat. "I understand that Her Grace, in consultation with Templars, has sound reason to believe that the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall has been dispensing potions infused with this toxic red lyrium."
"Yes, one of the Templars heard a rumor that Meredith was giving a stronger kind of lyrium to her cronies. My brother said that he sold a dwarven artifact made of it to a woman. We confiscated some items from a leader of the mob, and putting it all together, we think that's what is happening."
"Seekers of Truth have the right to demand entrance to Templar quarters to search," said Cassandra, "and that is what Most Holy has sent us to do. This is extremely troubling to Her Perfection."
"It's troubling to all of us, Seeker," Varric agreed. "I'll send a message to Hawke. She should know about this." He eyed Lucius suspiciously. "Doesn't your companion have anything to say?"
The male Seeker finally spoke. "The Divine put Seeker Cassandra in charge," he said. "She speaks for both of us."
"Most Holy trusts us," Cassandra said in a low, pointed voice. "That is why she chose us for this mission. There are... few she can trust at the present."
Relief spread over his face. "I'll send a message to Hawke."
Caitlyn was enjoying this time with Anders and their children, and she was extremely surprised to hear that a pair of Seekers had come to Kirkwall—but pleased. "This is good," she said to Anders as she passed Jo Beth to him to hold. "The Divine took my letter to Leliana seriously. And since they are going to search the Gallows for red lyrium, Meredith might get arrested today, if Justinia gave them that authority. That would be fantastic."
Anders wished he could be as hopeful, but he had been burned before by trusting in the willingness of Divine Justinia to act forcefully, and he could not allow himself to hope for an action as provocative as that. "It would be," he said guardedly, "but it's probably better to hope for less, so you won't be too disappointed. She is still trying to keep the rebels and subversives from making an attempt on her life or declaring a schism."
Caitlyn sighed as she got to her feet. "You're probably right. You usually have been. But they will surely do something today."
"Unless Meredith learned from Samson that we took Mettin captive and decided to destroy all the red lyrium in case this exact thing happened," he said direly.
She paused, appalled at that idea. It was possible, she had to admit... but she did not want to give in to hopelessness yet. "They take it for a reason," she said. "It must really be more potent, although there is a horrible price to pay for using it. I can't imagine that they would stop using it out of the chance that the Divine would send investigators here."
"Let's hope she hasn't had word of their arrival, then." He got to his feet and considered the baby in his arms. "I should probably be there too."
"Don't bring her. I don't want her around strangers, even if Justinia does trust them."
Mal piped up. "I can take care of her! Grandma and I can watch her for a little while."
"You're not going to the Gallows, are you?" he asked Caitlyn.
"Absolutely not. I'm going to talk with the Seekers and they will be the ones to go to the Gallows."
Anders handed the little baby to Leandra as Mal scampered across the room to sit next to his little sister. He gazed fondly at her, touching her head with a soft gesture, before turning to Caitlyn. He extended his arm to her, and they walked out of the inner Keep together.
When they reached the chamber in the outer Keep where Varric was holding court for the Seekers, they immediately noticed that he was greatly enjoying himself—and that the Seekers were having differing reactions to whatever it was that he was saying. One of them, the male Seeker, was standing aside, a glower on his face. The female Seeker was talking with Varric, a look of mild reluctance on hers, but it was clear that she was still enjoying the chat. As they drew nearer, they overheard the Seeker's words. She was talking with Varric about one of his novels, they realized with astonishment—and a rather dirty novel, at that. A Seeker had read one of Varric's steamy romances?
"Hawke! Anders!" he greeted as they entered, then instantly corrected himself as the female Seeker scowled disapprovingly at him. "Your Graces, excuse me. Seeker Pentaghast here—Cassandra Pentaghast—is going to keep me on my toes." In the corner, the other Seeker cleared his throat pointedly. "And this is Seeker Lucius Corin. They're here to look into red lyrium."
"Good," Caitlyn said feelingly. "I'm pleased to see that the Divine took my letter seriously." She considered for a moment. "There were others involved in our... revelation. Aveline Vallen—well, Hendyr now—who is the Captain of the Guard, and two Templars, one of whom is now a former Templar, Cullen Rutherford, who used to be the Knight-Captain."
"Former?" Cassandra Pentaghast repeated, not liking that at all. "Did the Knight-Commander sack him?"
"No, he resigned. Perhaps he should tell you about it himself."
"I think we should certainly talk with all whom you advise us to talk to," Cassandra declared, "and I beg your pardon for not mentioning first that I congratulate your entire family on the recent arrival."
"Thank you. She is well," Anders said, "despite her early birth."
"That is good. I pray that the Maker will continue to protect your family."
Caitlyn summoned a messenger to find Cullen and Aveline, and in a bit, the guard and former Templar arrived. Cullen was visibly concerned at the fact that Seekers of Truth were now involved. This was very serious.
"First," Cassandra began, "I would like to be sure that we have a correct understanding of what transpired on the thirtieth of Harvestmere. It was an armed force that committed acts of mass murder and then threatened the Keep, demanding your abdication, is that right?"
"Yes," said Caitlyn warily. Despite her still unresolved guilt about the order she had given and the firestorm she had cast, she did not think that she owed anyone else an explanation. Defending her city and her reign from violence was not wrong. Beside her, Anders wrapped an arm unobtrusively around her waist, which gave her added courage and confidence. "They numbered about two hundred, and we have accounted for eight hundred victims, innocent civilians of Kirkwall who supported my rule, were believed to be sympathetic to the plight of mages, or were of Fereldan birth. Those were the groups that these murderers targeted. And, yes, after my friends and the guards routed them, they converged in front of the Keep, waving their weapons in the air, demanding not just my abdication, but the 'surrender' of my whole family to them, including our innocent eight-year-old son. It was obvious what they wanted to do to us. They wanted our lives."
"Her Grace speaks the truth," Aveline said.
Cassandra frowned, though not at Caitlyn herself. "And it was led by two Templars?"
"One of them was a former Templar, who had been cast out of the Templar Order for precisely this behavior—inciting violence and sedition against me and the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall. And implicitly the Divine as well."
Cassandra's frown deepened. "And the other was indeed a Templar?"
"We think so," Caitlyn said. "He escaped, unfortunately, but we were able to capture his comrade."
"Until that comrade managed to kill himself in his cell by impaling spikes of red lyrium into his own neck," Anders put in, glowering.
Cassandra and Lucius exchanged looks. "That is troubling," Lucius said, finally speaking up.
"You could put it that way."
"How did he even have them?"
"He could grow them overnight from his own skin, we think," Caitlyn said. "This red lyrium appears to feed on flesh."
"How large were they? How fast does it grow?"
"After one night, they were about the girth of the shaft of an arrow, perhaps as long as a blade of grass, but very sharp. Still lethal if impaled into major arteries, which is what he did." She lowered her voice. "We confiscated his armor and supplies. The armor was extremely well-made, a masterwork, and had numerous runes of red lyrium, which the wearer could use to shoot the substance at someone. The one who escaped, a Templar who we think is named Samson, did that to my husband, and I had to cut it out of his chest with his own surgical knife, because it had attached itself to his flesh even though it didn't break his skin."
Anders rubbed his chest involuntarily at that.
"The one who committed suicide, who was named Mettin, also had a lyrium kit with supplies that we all recognized as wrong."
Cullen spoke up. "It has been destroyed—all of it was destroyed except for that armor, which we put into a secure vault—because of what it can do to people's minds, even dwarves and Tranquil. But the lyrium in Mettin's kit was magenta-colored. One of my... former colleagues..." He hesitated, not wanting to give Thrask's name out and potentially endanger him. "He heard a rumor."
"That the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall was supplying her favorites with 'special' lyrium. Regent Tethras mentioned this rumor," Lucius said. He seemed vaguely skeptical. "It is possible, you know, that this Mettin acquired the red lyrium himself, illicitly, after he was discharged from the order."
"Isn't that what you Seekers are here to investigate?" Caitlyn said.
"It is," Cassandra interjected. "We will go to the Gallows and search their lyrium supplies."
"I can tell you where it came from," Varric said. "I can give you a map to the exact spot in the Deep Roads where we found it. There was a whole thaig full of it. Whoever is mining it has to be getting it from there."
"That would be very useful," Cassandra said. "Most Holy will certainly want to post a guard there. Now, we must go. We shall be back shortly."
While the Seekers were gone, it occurred to Caitlyn that Petrice probably should be present—or at least informed—as well. The cleric was still in a bit of a tiff over the fact that no one had summoned her during Jo Beth's birth, and then, at the baby's ceremonial naming, she had screamed her little lungs out as the priest held her over the holy brazier. She had quieted immediately when her mother took her in her arms again. It was probably just a baby who wanted to be with someone familiar in a scary moment—though Caitlyn would not put it past her to have wanted specifically to be away from Petrice—and the people gathered in the Chantry were largely friends, family, and allies, anyway. But the priest seemed to have worried about what their enemies would say, and what currently neutral skeptics might think. Caitlyn reluctantly saw the point and also supposed that a pair of Seekers searching the Gallows was something that she should know about.
"I do hope that this is the catalyst for the Divine to act," remarked the priest, who seemed pleased to have been included and inclined to set aside the recent past, to Caitlyn's relief. This would have been a problem that she did not need right now. "Smuggling lyrium at all is a serious crime in the Chantry's view, let alone what this seems to be."
"If they find it there, it links Meredith to Mettin and his accomplice," Caitlyn said. "That's even more serious, in my opinion."
The group lapsed into silence. Anders scooted closer to her and took her hands in his. She leaned minutely closer to him, her heart beating in anxiety and anticipation.
The Seekers returned shortly, accompanied by three Templars, one of whom was Ser Keran, who were carrying a heavy chest. The young Templar smiled at the group gathered in the Keep, but it was a mirthless smile, and the faces of the other Templars and the Seekers were extremely serious and dour. The Templars set the chest down, and the Seekers began to speak.
"We confiscated magenta-colored lyrium potions from ten Templars," began Cassandra, worry filling her face. "Their kits are in that trunk, which we will take back to Val Royeaux for investigation and evidence for Most Holy."
Anders, Caitlyn, and Varric exchanged nervous glances. "It is dangerous to be around it for a long period of time," Caitlyn said. "You don't even have to touch it directly. My husband thinks that exposure to it during the massacre and the cleanup of that might have contributed to... to what happened to cause me to have to give birth early. The Knight-Commander injured me at five months," she added, "which was probably the biggest factor, but red lyrium exposure might have been another. I don't know what to tell you about getting it to Orlais, though. Even a dwarven crew won't be safe..."
"The interior of this chest is lined with plates of pure lead," Cassandra said. "After your letter to the Left Hand, the Divine decided to take precautions. We cannot promise that it will be safe, but do any of you feel anything right now?"
They considered before shaking their heads. The chest held ten kits of red lyrium, but they could feel nothing with its lid closed. "We don't," Caitlyn said, frowning, "but you and Seeker Lucius—couldn't you sense—"
"Not with the lid closed," she said quickly. "We took down the names of the Templars who had this adulterated lyrium as well." She gazed from one face to another. "And yes, as I am sure you would like to know, one of them was Meredith Stannard."
Lucius spoke up. "With the map to the source that Messere Tethras has said he will provide, we think that the threat to you from red lyrium is ended now."
"But not the threat from anything else," Caitlyn said.
"No," he agreed, "likely not. If the Divine chooses to act against Meredith because of this—as I expect she will—it could provoke war between mages and Templars, south and north. You should be ready for that." His mouth curled up in the shadow of a grin.
That grin and something about his words made Caitlyn's skin crawl. He seemed awfully eager for the prospect of war, in a way that no one should be, even those who were fighting a just war on the right side. She put it aside; it was probably her imagination, she thought. "We have been ready for the eventuality for a while," she said, "but we have not wanted to be the ones at fault." She considered. "We also have the suit of armor that we confiscated from Mettin, the one that is inlaid with red lyrium runes. It is of such fine quality that we suspect it was made in Tantervale or Starkhaven's Circle, but we can't prove that, so it's probably of no use to us. If you have room in your trunk, you might take that back to Divine Justinia too."
"We shall do that," Cassandra declared. She directed Lucius and the Templars to carry the chest to the vault where the armor was being held, then took the Kirkwallers aside privately when they were gone. "Lucius is not convinced that the traitor Mettin was truly receiving his lyrium from Meredith," she said grimly. "Since it was first found in a cavern in the Deep Roads—"
"A thaig," Varric corrected. She eyed him, and he shrugged. "It's the dwarven word for it. No offense intended. You'd correct me if I called the Necropolis a mere tomb, wouldn't you?"
A faint smile formed on her face. "A thaig, then. Since it came from there, in a well-known expedition—the expedition, in fact, that restored Your Grace's family to the nobility," she said to Caitlyn, "Lucius thinks it possible that Mettin went looking for the source when he was exiled from the Templars. But obviously, given what we found today, Meredith was unquestionably giving it to her own favorites, and he was one of them once." She scowled. "For my part, I believe that what we found is strong evidence of her collaboration with him and the other traitor, and I will make this argument to Most Holy regardless of what Lucius says."
"Do you trust him?" Caitlyn asked baldly. That creepy eagerness for war was still bothering her a bit.
"Divine Justinia trusts him, so I trust him. We have differences of opinion at times," she said. "This is one such."
Anders suppressed a scowl, though one not directed personally at Cassandra. "I would be careful if I were you," he said. "The Lady Seeker joined the former Knight-Vigilant to reinstate Meredith after the Grand Cleric sacked her. Then the Seeker who came with Trentwatch to Kirkwall was a snake, and apparently he and the Lady Seeker made up a story about wanting to find evidence of Trentwatch's lyrium sickness to hide their own culpability."
Cassandra frowned. "I am aware that Divine Justinia fears 'other agendas' in the Seeker ranks as well as in the priesthood and Templars," she said. "We are closer to the situation than you, Lord Anders. We are not ignorant fools."
"I'm sure that my husband didn't mean that," Caitlyn interjected. "It's just that we all worry about spies."
"Lucius and I have different opinions," she said again. "I am considered more rigid, more of a 'judge.' That is all."
"All right," Caitlyn said. She managed a smile as Lucius himself and the Templars returned from the cells carrying the trunk. "We are glad that you came and wish you a safe journey."
"Feel free to visit again, Seeker—though perhaps a social visit next time," Varric said, winking. Cassandra huffed, but she could not hide her faint smile.
Caitlyn and Anders were glad to return to their children that evening. As she took her tiny infant away from her own mother to nurse, settling down in a chair, she gazed across the room where Anders had gone to practice magic with Mal. They were now comfortable enough to do it in an ordinary room; Mal's control over his magic had advanced to that extent. He was growing up.
But you have just begun your life, she thought, turning to the baby in her arms, and both of you need us. We're going to protect you. We're going to create the world for you that we always wanted. It's happening now. It's really happening. She gazed at Anders for a moment. What we wanted is finally coming to pass. She opened her bodice and began to nurse, enjoying the peace and closeness of it.
Among the benefits of not being pregnant—and having a master Healer as one's partner who could quickly repair birth injuries—was that they could once again be reckless and carefree in lovemaking. She could be on her back, shoved against the wall, on her stomach; they could use magic on each other freely and without fear, and they could go at it as hard as they wanted. And that was exactly what they did that night.
Despite the presence of a healing spirit and the two potions that mitigated the Taint, Anders definitely still had his Warden stamina. He had been unable to take her as hard as he liked for quite some time, ever since Meredith had knocked her backward, in fact, and she was also hungry for that—for him to hold her down, pin her arms by her sides, and plant aggressive kisses and bites from her cheek to her bosom. The fact that he was acting this way—that it was safe for them now—made him more aggressive by the minute. He began shooting sparks of static charge into her—which, of course, she could not let go unanswered. It had been months since they could do this.
At last, when they were finally sated to the point of exhaustion, and he had rolled off her but still kept her in his arms in a firm embrace, she was able to think for a moment before they drifted off to sleep. This is it, she thought, caressing his back. This will either end in a whimper, with Meredith and her cronies all being dismissed by Justinia and possibly arrested, and the rebels and Alliance of the Faithful giving up—or it will be the spark of war and schism, and after what happened on Satinalia, our allies' soldiers will certainly support us. One way or the other, the impossible, infuriating stalemate will end. Change is coming. She glanced at the window, where Jo Beth's small cradle lay bathed in moonlight that filtered through the curtains, and thought of Mal, sleeping just down the hall. I've protected you, she thought. We have protected you. This family may be vulnerable right now, but we will be fine.
Notes: The fact that the red lyrium potions are a mixture is how they could consume it for several years without turning into the things in DA:I. That would have happened eventually, but it would have taken longer.
