Running On Empty: On Earth, As It Is In Heaven

Note: My friend has made me aware that I have messed up some names as I write this. Given the fact that whenever I play the game with her she's leaps and bounds ahead of where my chapters are, it's a given. Again, this story is unedited by a beta.

Another point: The game plays out in a certain way to entertain a player. As this is a novelization, certain quests don't make sense to do alone, or restrict to 3 people and an Inquisitor for balance purposes. I'll keep as true as possible, without making strange, unsound decisions on changing power balances.

Thanks and enjoy!


The trip back to Haven was a long one. Without the horses from Dennett, we had to stick to caravans and the pace was abysmal. Cassandra had suggested we attempt to at least get into contact with Dennett, but with the crossroads needing so much attention and the surrounding area being hostile and erupting with chaos, I knew we would have been dead before we even tried. It pained her as much as it did me, but we just didn't have the man-power or the brute force to take control of the Hinterlands.

We need men. The Commander and Lady Montilyet had tasked us (or me, specifically) with recruiting people where we could, but it seemed impossible. The every-day man currently was more concerned with making sure his family was fed and his supplies weren't stolen. He wasn't about to run off into the great beyond and help others when he could barely help himself. Or maybe I'm assuming too little of these people. I may have just placed them further in the selfish corner than they actually merited.

They're not you, Jaime.

A heavy sigh escaped me as our caravan pulled into Haven, the people bustling around us to unload our supplies and materials. At the very least, the trip to the Hinterlands wasn't a complete waste. The soldiers had managed to collect ore and herbs that were sorely needed for our own troops, and those were being immediately shipped to Harritt and his crew.

I trudged up the long path toward the Chantry with Solas and Varric behind me. I suppose I had been uncharacteristically quiet on the return trip, but there was a lot to think about. I could feel their stares bore into my back and waited until I was at Varric's fire pit and tent before I turned toward them, wary.

"You might as well say it." I groused, my arms crossed loosely over my chest.

"I wasn't going to say anything." Varric shot back with a smile.

"Liar." I rebuffed. "I don't know what to do, all right? I want to help, I do, but I can't. We can't. It's like being a beggar and giving my only gold piece to the beggar next to me. I won't be able to help if I do that, can I?"

"Then our next best option would be to find more beggars willing to supplement our coffers." Solas added thoughtfully. "I suppose I see your dilemma, you believe that everyone here is on equal footing as you, and so thus helping would no further assist them as it would you."

It stuck to have it put so plainly. "W-well... yeah? Isn't everyone in the same sinking ship as I am? This fucking thing," I pointed to the split that snarled through the sky above the decimated Temple, "doesn't care who it hurts or kills because it doesn't have that sentient function to do so. A blizzard doesn't care what it takes, nature has no wants, only absolutes."

Solas blinked at me, his ears twitching slightly. "I see. Interesting thought process."

Varric sighed heavily and set Bianca down by his tent. "Look, sweetheart, I'm not saying we should toss out coin to everyone who has their hand out, I'm only saying maybe we shouldn't be so... totalitarian when it comes to our help."

My inhale was deep and I held it in my lungs for a brief second. "Varric. I'm - I'm right there with you, I am. But I can't starve us. We can't help if our ship sinks first. I - I'll have to talk to Leliana and Lady Montilyet about it. If we got more men or volunteers or something, then maybe..."

"You could always attempt to hire mercenaries." Solas said with a shrug. "I, myself, would not trust in their hands too much, but if it's power that we need, they would be the first to come."

"At a price," I countered sourly. "I don't know if we have those kind of funds."

"We should." Varric tilted his head toward me, his hands on his broad hips. "Josephine isn't going to let the Inquisition run dry, and she's pulling funds from desperate nobles and countrymen alike. Ask, see if we can start something up that way." I nodded. That half-assed plan would have to suffice, it wasn't like we had much more to use. My hand came up and rubbed harshly against my eyes before I turned on my feet and trotted up toward the Chantry.

The levels of anxiety I had been suffering were already inhumanly high and they were made worse with a heavy dose of panic as I came upon a mob just outside of the Chantry's gates. My knees locked and my feet dug into the snow. I had half a mind to turn my heels and run in the other direction; the shouting was echoing through the settlement of Haven now with heads turning at the commotion.

I almost bolted until I saw a flash of familiar armor. Commander Cullen stood at the middle of it, trying to fend off the incoming tides of people on either side. A strong beat of my heart had it slam up under my tongue and against my better judgment, my feet dug into the snow and shot me forward.

"Your kind killed the Most Holy!" There was a spitting Templar that dove into the center, his hand resting tightly on his sword. A man in robes, a mage, stood before him, defending the others that were gathered behind him.

"Lies!" The mage gripped his staff and I knew this would not end well, I wasn't running fast enough. "Your kind let her die!"

"Shut your mouth!" The Templar attempted to draw his sword just as the mage whirled his staff with an electrical charge. I dove for the mage, he was the only one I could reach, and snagged his elbow to draw off his aim. Cullen had turned from placating the other parts of the crowd in time to see the commotion and roared his way into the middle.

"Enough!" It was impressive to watch the Commander take both the mage's and Templar's arms and ground them to an immediate halt. My hands slipped off the mage's elbow as he was shook off by the Commander. Everyone within five feet of the silently snarling Cullen drew a hasty retreat to a safer distance.

"Knight-Captain!" The Templar snarled, betrayed. I ducked behind the mages to get along Cullen's side, my hand not quite ready to take my maul from my back, but holding the handle was reassuring for me. Cullen turned on the Templar with a sour snarl and his shoulders hiked under his furred armor, coiled with anger.

"That is not my title any longer." Cullen growled. His eyes flashed between the two for a moment and I could practically hear the cavern of his lungs swell as he took a heavy inhale to calm himself. His gaze slit to the Templar, "We are not Templars anymore. We are all a part of the Inquisition!" I stood in the shadow of the Commander, hidden from the view of the mages and Templars that snapped at each other in front of him. A hard swallow was forced down my throat. These people wanted blood and I was nearly sure that blood would be mine if they knew the truth.

"And what does that mean, exactly?"

I snarled nearly as loudly as the Commander did at the sound of Roderick's voice. The chancellor wadded his way up through the crowd with his hands behind his back. I stood at attention next to the Commander, startling the older man a bit as he caught a sideways glance of me. My mouth set into a hard line as I waited. The Commander turned his darkened gaze back to the approaching Chancellor.

"Back already, Chancellor?" The heated venom coated Cullen's lips. "Haven't you done enough?"

"I'm curious, Commander." The Chancellor's dark gaze switched to me and I puffed my chest as best I could under my leather armor and belts. "As to how the Inquisition, and its Herald, will restore order as you've promised?"

Cullen's shoulders stiffened, his tone suddenly exhausted. "Of course you are." Our gazes met at just the peak of his shoulder and I stood a bit closer to his arm, unsure of the message. I need to get better at reading people. My chin tucked down as I slid my eyes back to the Chancellor, watching him as he circled with the crowd's attention.

He's got no right to call me a warmonger when he does shit like this. A glare was quick to pinch my face as Roderick's eyes came back to me. The Commander was quick to disperse the remaining members of the crowd, I stayed in my place before the door, my gaze locked with Roderick's. The Commander noticed the standoff as he came back toward the center and stood before me, his arms crossed.

"The mages and Templars were already at war." The Commander tells me over his shoulder. I had managed to retain a little of what The Hydra (Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine) had tried to educate me on concerning the very war I was currently placed into. I blinked over at Roderick, the Chancellor scowled at us like a pair of stray dogs. It was a long-standing dispute for everyone, and I had barely enough knowledge on it to make a cohesive statement. I was dreading the day it came down to having to choose a side. Here I hoped, we could settle it before it all came to an even uglier standoff than just a high-school spat outside the Chantry doors.

The Commander huffed, arms tight across his chest. "And now they're blaming each other for the Divine's death."

"Which is why we need a proper authority to bring them to order." Roderick interjected heatedly.

"Who?" The Commander demanded with a snort. "You? Random clerics that weren't important enough to attend the Conclave?" A snicker escaped me. The Divine's death was no laughing matter. From what I could tell, Cassandra and Leliana still grieved (in their own ways) and the people were left with a terribly long shadow to fill. I felt for them, deeply, and could see that the chaos was a good part of unrelenting pain felt by those who missed her. Cullen was right, though, anyone unimportant enough to be left from the collection at the Conclave was no better suited to run the Chantry than I was to run the Inquisition.

You know, because I at least saw the hell hole that hung over our heads.

"This rebel Inquisition and it's so-called Herald are in no position to decide the fate of this madness!" Roderick's face paled a bit, the cold getting to him and his anger twisted his face.

"You know," I poked my head out just a bit from behind the Commander, "you're the only one that's raving about how we can't work together. At least I'm trying." The sullen look on the Commander's face flashed into a smirk and he shot me a look that clearly indicated I was decidedly Not Helping, but it wasn't necessarily Not Funny either. I won, regardless.

"We could," Roderick lowered his steely gaze to me, "If the Inquisition would recognize the Chantry's authority."

My mouth opened, but Cullen cut me off, "There is no authority because there is no Divine. So the Inquisition will function under its on judgment until such a time."

"All in due time, indeed." The Chancellor snapped back. His hands folded behind his back. "Andraste will guide us, not some dazed wanderer from the mountainside." My nose scrunched, but I was hardly offended. The story of my "upbringing" as an orphan had spread like a freaking wildfire and many had taken it to comparison with their Andraste - a "barbaric" start, a woman to lead where men failed.

Painfully, I kept my mouth shut. I was far from any God, lest of all the bride to one.

I read.

A heavy glare set on my face. "Remind me again why we're allowing him to prance about the front doors?"

"Clearly your Templar knows where to draw the line." Roderick sneered smugly.

"He's toothless." The Commander spat, his eyes nailed to Roderick's leaning form. "There's no sense in turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth."

"Hmph." I swiveled around to Cullen's other side and watched as Roderick's eyes followed me. "If you say so. I would rather not have someone instigating riots among the people. We have business to do, not cater to a show-dog's ego."

The Commander gave a hard, amused snort and shot me a look. "The Chancellor is a good indicator of what to expect at Val Royeaux." I hesitated at that. The Chancellor was already a handful as he was, but multiplying him by ten or so, or more... That sounded like a daunting task. I hope Leliana was right, and that Mother Giselle's advice would serve us well.

"I-I'll try to make them see reason when I'm there." The stutter I couldn't stop. The Commander eyed me with a critical eye and then sighed heavily. He gave me a half shrug and a nod, his gaze turned back toward the Chancellor.

"I pray you're right." The Commander murmured. The weary tone was a blow to my confidence. The muscles of my shoulders hunched tightly and I turned to make my way into the Chantry, dismissed by his words. I wasn't a leader, I knew that, and so did they, so I wondered why it was so surprising that I wasn't jumping at every opportunity to prove myself.

This wasn't my world. I had barely come to accept the fact that I wasn't going to wake up in my own bed back home. There was too much pain I had taken, too much stress, to have slept through it all. My throat worked down a dry swallow as the warmth of the Chantry enveloped me. I continued my walk, head lowered and eyes to the ground.

The Inquisition shouldn't have been made my responsibility. I was in no position, mentally or emotionally, to handle the sudden duties shoved into my arms and laid across my shoulders. Nothing from my previous life could help me, I did things on my own, followed my own path without dragging anyone else into it because I didn't want to be responsible to what happened to them.

I worked on teams, played sports, went to rallies, but I was only ever a team member, not a team lead. Projects and debates and sports matches were easy, because they ended. This was turning into a never-ending cycle of death and destruction and chaos.

I didn't want that. I didn't want that at all.

"How goes the plan to seal the Breach, Herald?" Mother Giselle's voice knifed through my thoughts. My head snapped up and I blinked hard with the candle light, surprised I had gotten so far without noticing. She stood close to Josephine's door, a pile of her belongings and parchments circled behind her.

"As w-well as it can go, with what power we have." I answered diplomatically. No sense in shooting down hope despite mine all but completely emptied. I nodded my head, "I hope you're settling in well, Mother Giselle."

"I am." She assessed me, again, with clever eyes. "... The plans to seal the Breach are quite daunting. I hope you are not doing it alone."

I am alone. I grimaced and forced it into a gentle smile. "I'm not," I lied, my tongue heavy at the back of my throat, "Lady Leliana and Lady Cassandra have been helpful."

Another long look, her chin tilted up. "We remember Andraste alone against the world, a spearhead to the Exalted March, but we mustn't forget she was surrounded by many." Mother Giselle smiled at me, careful and quiet. "She had advisors, guards, friends - even her husband, for a time." I stood, silent and listening. I had read what I could of Andraste from Leliana's books, in the hopes that I could play on the fact that people saw me as her Herald, but the information was scattered in my mind.

"Do what you can within your power." Mother Giselle's words were warm, but I could hear the warning, "but do not forget those who are around to help you." My feet shuffled my weight and my eyes stared a little past the Mother's shoulder. With a gentle nod, I focused back on her, still unclear of what she expected of me.

"Thank you. The... comparison is humbling." It was a pitiful thing to say, but I was left with nothing else. I wasn't a religious sort, and the closest I had come to it was listening to my grandma every Christmas go on about the Lord Savior and there was only so much of that a seven year old could take to heart.

"It is meant to encourage you." Mother Giselle eased. "From what I have heard of the people here, you are isolated and hardly reach out." She bowed her head to me, once more I was amazed at the holding power of her headdress. "There is little enough I can do to aid you, and I am more than willing to lend an ear."

Unexpectedly, tears sprang to my eyes. I choked, "I th-thank you, Mother Giselle." I gave her a weak laugh and blinked away the water from my vision. "... I suppose I should stop jumping at shadows and allow my advisors to reach me a bit more."

Mother Giselle nodded, concerned at my tone, but she didn't press. "In any case, I pray this Inquisition proves less brutal than its predecessor."

"Of course," I murmured, with nothing else to say. "Thank you again, Mother. Please, if you need anything." My heels were hasty in drawing me away from Mother Giselle. Her gaze frightened me, because though I was sure she knew nothing about me, her assessments of my mental state were closer to the nail's head when she struck than I would have liked.

I saw the Commander walk into the War Room in front of me, most likely having passed me during my conversation with the Mother. My feet hurried me along as Josephine had already left her room and Leliana was probably waiting for the rest of us to show. Cassandra came up behind me, stern faced as usual, and hesitated.

My feet paused as I caught her look, prompting her with a raised brow.

She looked down at my left hand. "I always mean to ask as the days go on, I know I asked before, but..."

"But asking about a hell-mouth in someone's hand is a tricky conversation starter." I joked. She winced and a heavy sigh escaped me. Joking with the Seeker wasn't hard, but sometimes her wires were frayed and sparked closer to the surface than she would like. She was about as emotional as I was, on a relatively awkward day.

"That it is," Cassandra relented. My vision spied a small glance at the Mother not far from us, but she seemed occupied with someone else.

"It really has stopped hurting." The reply was quiet. I turned my hand up for Cassandra to view the gentle pulse of the emerald light between the lines of my palm. Her chin rose a fraction and her shoulders went stiff as she looked down at it. For me, after nearly two months, it had become the norm. A soft, secondary heartbeat apart from my own that flared to life near rifts and demons, and was a chilling night-light in the darkness.

"You will tell us when that changes, yes? I don't mean to be overbearing by always asking." Cassandra replied gently. I gave her a silent nod and gestured with the same hand to have her go before me. We had much to do, regardless of how much my stomach dreaded it and my throat chafed at the idea.

The faces of The Hydra were grim at best. Lady Montilyet looked the more amicable of them all. The Commander stood stiffly at the middle of the table at the other end, his eyes roaming over the maps. I glanced at them and was surprised to find that figures of towers and rook-pieces were scattered all across the way. Strategic points of advancement, my mind supplied, listening.

"... I still believe that having the Herald address the Chantry Clerics is the best option we have." Lady Montilyet picked up her conversation once we were all in the room and the door shut behind us. A hard swallow went down my throat and sweat collected at the back of my next by my hairline.

The sounds of distant, dooming music could probably be heard, I'm sure.

"You can't be serious." The Commander hissed with a spare glance at me. "We would be throwing her into a pack of starving wolves!" The Ping-Pong ball shot back to Lady Montilyet and she was the picture of calm and patience. Many a night went by that I wished I had her confidence.

"Mother Giselle is not wrong; the Chantry's only strength at this point is their unified voice." She tipped her head lightly, challenging the Commander. The older man inhaled from the bowels of his stomach and turned with a hand gripped to the back of his head. A wince flashed over my face.

"And we should ignore the danger to the Herald?" Leliana voiced the Commander's worry, arms behind her back and face set in stone. Lady Montilyet sighed and turned her honeyed gaze to me. I felt no relaxation, this woman may have been brought up in a prosperous homestead, but she hand teeth of her own that she sharpened constantly.

With stiff shoulders, I glanced at the maps for a moment to think. The Commander's eyes settled on me a few seconds afterwards and I shudder under the attention. I'm not a soldier. I'm not a politician. I can't do this. A hard blink cleared my vision, as it had started to tilt in my panic.

"... I don't know what I'm going to say to them." I winced as my voice started to shake. My eyes came up to the Commander's hard face and then shifted between Leliana and Lady Montilyet. This was what I had been thinking about the other day, wasn't it? No one else could do this job, no one else could stand in front of the clerics and make them doubt for a moment what I was, what I could be.

It had to be me.

"Honesty is very charming, coming from you." Leliana's eyes smiled with small crinkles at their corners, despite her firm mouth. "You are, as we've discussed, orphaned, simple, and emotional."

The Commander snorted and I shot him a heated look. Rightly, he turned his gaze away.

Leliana chuckled, "These are not bad qualities to have. Despite what you may think of yourself, you've endeared many of our Inquisition to your cause."

"I've done nothing to earn that." I hiccupped. "I-I don't talk to people, I don't go around h-helping them, I've literally sat on my hands and let Cassandra do everything."

"You sit with Harritt nearly every day." The Commander murmured. Another frown formed on my face and he held up a hand, attempting to placate my harried emotions. "You do. You've trained with our men, both veterans and fledglings alike are willing to help you, let you rest on their shoulders."

"You may not talk to everyone," Cassandra added. A blush went across my face, the bubble of embarrassment popping behind my lungs. I hadn't been fishing for compliments or reassurances. I figuratively tucked my tail between my legs as Cassandra narrowed her eyes on me, "But when you do speak, it is sincere and genuine. Even the hardiest of us can detect that."

"Th-thanks, um." I struggled to breathe, lest of all speak. "I suppose I'll just have to drag that to the clerics with me."

"Have faith, Herald." Lady Montilyet soothed with a smile. "As long as you don't swear and curse like you normally do, we should be fine."

"I thought we were going for honest here?" I joked weakly.

The Hydra's glare was a thing to behold.

Cassandra sighed. "I will go with her." She shot me a glare as well, but my gaze had swiftly turned upward, fascinated by the chandelier. She cleared her throat and looked to Leliana, my gaze tentatively falling back down to the people around me. "Mother Giselle said she had names? Use them."

"But why?" Leliana's face contorted slightly. "This is nothing but -"

"We need help." Cassandra growled, pained by the idea. "Right now, we cannot approach anyone for help with the Breach." Her eyes turned to the Commander and the other man had the instinct to draw up straight and square his shoulders, ready for the bite. "Use what influences we have to bring the clerics together. We'll be there, and we can show them we can follow through."

The Hydra shared a look amongst its heads; Lady Montilyet nodded, assuaged.

"It will be done."

The travel to Val Royeaux was uneventful. Once more, we did not have adequate horses to get us there at a faster pace, we had to make do with caravans that traveled in the same direction, or other sects of the Inquisitions that had set up camps and settlements along the way. I had taken the time to assess what I could of my conversations with the The Hydra and Mother Giselle. Clearly, they were seeing something that was beyond my comprehension. As far as I knew, I was alone. I barely spoke to anyone and most of the time I was too busy running from the Commander's torture or hiding from Lady Montilyet's lessons.

From the corner of my peripheral, Cassandra walked alongside the caravan that we escorted and I just a pace or so behind her. Her armor had changed over the course of the months that I had been with them, improvements made by Harritt as more material came in from the Hinterlands or other places within Ferelden that I (or rather, the Commander) had sent troops to find. Cassandra caught my eye and slowed her walk to come up beside me, head tilted and her mouth always as stern as normal.

"Cassandra," I started lamely and sputtered. Where was I going to go with this? What was I looking to say to her? With a struggle, I wrangled my throat into submission. She waited as patiently as she was able.

"Yes, Herald?" She prompted after a few too many seconds of silence. I shrugged heavily and cleared my throat. Cassandra was just as bad at starting conversation as I was; she was skilled in rallying a crowd or making someone aware of her presence with a single blistering sentence, but when it came to friendly chatting, we were equals.

Equals in floundering awkwardness, at least.

"You know." She started up again, voice quiet with the people that traveled around us. "When you came to us, that day the Breach had split the sky, I had been ready to kill you." My eyes went wide and I snapped my attention to her. I remember that day, regardless of how much time could have passed for us, months, weeks, years, I would vehemently remember the day a viper stood before me and nearly took my head clean from my neck had it not been for Leliana's interference.

I swallowed, keeping my voice low. "I remember. You were royally pissed off."

"Upset, yes." She peered a heavy glance at me. "Since that day, I wonder if I had done the right thing?" My throat constricted. The right thing was up for debate. Back then I had imagined all this a dream, an illusion of too much sugar and drink the hour before I had passed out, but as it stood now, it was very real. The right thing would have been to kill me, perhaps, and that sent a chill down my spine. I said nothing to her and remained silent, my chin tucked down slightly to my throat.

"One day they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman. A fool." She sighed and gripped the hilt of her sword at her side. "And they may be right."

I had no rebuttal for that. My shoulders shrugged loosely. "It's a bit late to turn back now." I glanced at her, but her eyes were ahead of us, to where the leader of the caravan walked on, accompanied by Solas and in pleasant conversation, it seemed. A cold inhale went through my nose before I looked back up at her. She was only taller by inches, but she carried herself as if she stood miles above everyone else. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't. I was terrified every step we took that you would kill me."

"It had crossed my mind, yes." She answered lowly. "My temper did always rule my actions before reason could catch up. I cannot afford to be so careless again."

"You had cause, Cassandra." I supplied gently. She looked disgusted with the reply and I hurried to explain: "No, no. Listen. Look at the situation, alright? Hundreds of people had just been massacred, your Divine gone or dead, and the only survivor was me..." I hesitated, because giving her justification in her actions meant that she could have killed me and there would have been no one to slap her with repercussions - aside from a then unseal-able Breach.

"In any case," She winced. It was likely she had gone along the same thought process as me. "You are here now, and we will continue forward."

"One way or another, for sure." Pep-talks were not my strong point, and it showed.

"I'm curious." She said after a few minutes of amicable silence. With an inquiring hum, I looked up at her. Her mouth twitched as it always did when she wanted to say something badly, but either did not have the words or the tact to put it into sentences.

I chuckled, "Out with it, Seeker."

"Do you believe in the Maker?" She blurted with a sharp glance to me. She rushed forward, "Now with all that you've read, and know of our world?" One eye of mine winced as cold terror slithered through me. No, was the immediate answer, because if I couldn't believe in God within my own realm of existence, there was no way I could be able to believe in such a thing or creator in another world, regardless of how I got there.

"I couldn't tell you, honestly." It was the best I could come up with, without lying to her. My intent originally had been to bond with my companions, but now I found myself wading through lava to keep myself on Cassandra's good side. I didn't know if we were established enough as friends or comrades for me to blurt my true thoughts to her, despite her seeming readiness to do so for me. She was still silent and I realized she waited for an elaboration.

Once more, I had nothing. "I guess... here you have something similar, people who believe and don't." My eyes flickered along the train of the caravan, taking care to watch my words. "From what you know of me, I was shot across the realms of reality to here, Cassandra. I don't know what to believe." Earnestly, my gaze turned to her and I tilted my head, saddened. "What god would do this to me? Would put me in the place of absolute destruction and hope that his free-willed, independent children would do the right thing?" I pressed upon the word, to make her understand. Sometimes what we saw as the right thing wasn't always so.

She was pensive and gave me a curt nod. "I suppose you're right. We here who believe already feel the burn in our hearts, the betrayal of why, why would he do this to us, to his most faithful?"

"Our experiences color things differently for all of us." I added on when she fell silent again. She shared a look with me and all I could offer was a weak smile. "What could be right for you does nothing for me, or hurts me. What I think is right for me could be the worst thing to happen to you. What we decide to do now, Maker or no, will be who we are to become in the future. I want to be a good person, and so now..."

"You will do good things." Cassandra breathed, following along. She swallowed and nodded. "I see your point. Thank you, Herald."

I blinked up at her. "Eh?"

"For your wisdom." Cassandra shot me an amused look. "You are not as simple as you seem, and beneath all the terror you hide under, you are quite skilled at managing the fears of others."

"Horseshit." I snorted roughly. Cassandra chuckled as I continued. "I'm not like Lady Montilyet or Mother Giselle. The shit that tumbles out of my mouth is literally just that, bullshit."

"How much shit must you have," Cassandra groused, fighting another laugh. "Horse shit, bull shit, and regular shit. What would your mother think?"

"She usually bought extra bars of soap just for me."

It was good to make Cassandra laugh.