As they dressed for dinner, Jane assured her sister that she was satisfied with their new sleeping arrangements-particularly after Elizabeth gave her the full backstory. Their mother's treatment of Solas appalled her, but the subject could only receive a few sharp exclamations before Elizabeth was able to shift the conversation to a matter she found much more pressing.
"I found out why Father is visiting his cousin," she said. Jane eased herself onto the bed and cocked her head curiously. "Mama wants to marry you off to Duke Gaspard. He's trying to set up a match."
Jane's eyebrows shot up. "Gaspard? Gaspard de Chalons?"
"Yes."
To Elizabeth's surprise, Jane smiled. "Mama wants me to marry Gaspard, so she sent Father to Duke Bastien?" Elizabeth nodded. Jane's hand came up to her mouth and she began to laugh. "Oh Lizzie! That is-" She tried to speak, but folded over as she laughed even harder.
"I believe she's quite serious about it," Elizabeth said, startled.
After a moment, Jane ran her fingers under her eyes, clearing away tears. "Oh, Lizzie, you don't know, do you," she said. "Didn't you ever discuss politics in that Circle of yours?"
"Of course we did," Elizabeth said defensively, though she privately acknowledged that most political discussions were about mages, templars, and the Circle itself. "Well, the basics, I mean. Who's in charge, who's at war- that sort of thing." She crossed her arms and sat next to her sister. "Why? What don't I know?"
"Gaspard and Bastien hate each other. They were once-well, it's messy-but suffice it to say, they have good reason. Le Grand Jeu and all that. Besides, Bastien's mistress has direct ties to Celene." Another chuckle escaped her and she shook her head. "Thank the Maker that Mama has no patience for the Game. She couldn't have picked a worse person to ask."
Elizabeth stared at her, her own face breaking into an astonished smile. "And I suppose Father would be entirely aware of all this," she said.
Jane nodded. "Oh, he's going to be the death of that poor woman."
"Who can the surprise guest be then?" Elizabeth wondered aloud, looking at the floor.
"The what?" Jane asked.
"Father wrote ahead that he's bringing back a surprise guest," Elizabeth replied. "If it's not Gaspard…" She trailed off, shrugging.
"Knowing Father, it'll be that Mabari Lydia always wanted," Jane said. "Can you imagine the look on her face?"
Elizabeth could imagine it very well. "If he does, we could name it Gaspard," she suggested, and they both burst out laughing.
Once they had recovered, Elizabeth stood and shook her head. "Well, we still need to convince Mama to call off this ridiculous plan of hers."
"We shouldn't bother," Jane replied, sitting up. "You know how Mama is. If I tell her I'm against it, she'll only become more determined. It's better to just let her grow tired of it."
Elizabeth frowned. "But what if she actually manages to reach him and he gets the wrong idea? You're the Herald now. I'm sure a dozen men would line up to claim your hand tomorrow, if Mama was offering."
"Father will keep her in line," Jane said. "Honestly, it's probably for the best. At least with her mind on Gaspard, she won't be offering my hand to every bachelor with noble blood between the ages of sixteen and ninety."
"I suppose so," Elizabeth said doubtfully.
Jane stood, walking over to the vanity to check her braid. "If it makes you feel better, I'll speak with Josephine when we return and have her spread the word that I am not spoken for, and that if anyone wishes to make any offers, they need to go through the Inquisition, not my family."
Elizabeth relented. "That would make me feel better," she admitted. "Although it may result in-"
A knock on the door interrupted her, and Doris poked her head in. "My ladies? Your presence is requested in the dining room."
"Thank you, Doris," Jane said, straightening. She offered her sister a smile. "Shall we?"
Dinner was not as painful as Elizabeth had anticipated. Kitty and Lydia were visiting a friend in the village, so it was just the five Inquisition members, Lady Trevelyan, and Mary. Elizabeth's mother only mentioned Gaspard's eligibility a handful of times before Varric noticed the sisters' discomfort and began telling stories about the Champion of Kirkwall. Solas remained completely silent. Elizabeth tried to steer the conversation toward Nevarran nobility early on, knowing that it would keep her mother entertained for the better part of an hour; Cassandra, however, was tight-lipped about her upbringing, so Elizabeth satisfied herself with listening and drinking.
"Thank the Maker for Varric Tethras," she said two hours later, leaning heavily against Jane's bedroom door. "And for wine ."
Jane scoffed as she removed her dress. "You won't be thankful for that come morning."
"You don't think I can handle a few glasses of wine without a hangover?" Elizabeth asked, placing a hand over her heart. "You wound me, Herald of Andraste."
Jane winced. "Don't call me that."
"As the lady wishes," Elizabeth replied, stretching with a yawn. She picked up her nightgown from where it was folded on the dresser. "I must admit, it will be nice to sleep in a bed again." They both finished dressing, and then Jane burrowed beneath the blankets as Elizabeth blew out the candles. She summoned a tiny flame in her hand to guide herself to the bed.
"You've been doing that more frequently," Jane said quietly, pulling the blanket beneath her chin as she watched it burn.
"What, magic?" Elizabeth asked, extinguishing the flame and climbing into the bed. "I should hope so. You've been trying to get yourself killed more often. It's the least I can do."
"But even outside of fighting, I mean."
Elizabeth made a noncommittal noise in response. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to discuss her sudden rebellious streak with Jane, knowing it would just make her sister worry, and she certainly didn't want Jane knowing beforehand if she was planning to become a full-on apostate once the Circles returned.
A flutter of panic rose in her chest, but before she could follow that train of thought, she heard her sister say her name. She rolled on her side to face Jane in the darkness.
"I have a question," Jane whispered. There was a moment of silence.
Elizabeth felt her lips curl into a fond smile. "Are you going to ask it?"
"It's a little personal," her sister explained. Elizabeth couldn't see anything, but she knew from the silence that Jane was playing with her braid. "I don't want to upset you."
"Jane, you can ask me anything."
The bed creaked as Jane shifted. "It's about Mattrin. If it's too soon..."
Elizabeth's smile faded, but she kept her voice neutral. "No, I don't mind. What's your question?"
"Ellendra said that he stopped taking lyrium," Jane said. "Is that how he died?"
"No," Elizabeth replied, then hesitated. "I mean, yes, in a manner of speaking." She sighed. "Mattrin was still going through withdrawal. He took his own life."
"That's awful," Jane whispered. "But then why would he-?" There was a short pause. "Lizzie, what happens to people who take lyrium?"
Elizabeth stared into the darkness, trying to make out the glint of her sister's eyes.
Jane didn't know.
Of course Jane didn't know. Knowing about templar habits would be useless to someone outside the Circle, as useless as it was for her to know which Orlesian nobles were on speaking terms.
"Oh," said Elizabeth. She realized now that Jane was not asking about Mattrin, not really. Her mouth felt very dry as she searched her mind for a place to begin, wishing she had not drunk so much wine at dinner. "I don't know everything, but it gives the templars powers. It's how they control us."
"So he didn't want to be a danger to Ellendra?" Jane guessed.
Elizabeth swallowed. "There are… other concerns," she admitted. "Eventually, the lyrium eats away at them. Older templars forget things and are easily confused. They become paranoid. Sometimes they become… cruel." She paused. "In the end, it kills them.
Her sister inhaled sharply. "Oh."
"I'm so sorry, Jane," Elizabeth said. "I thought you knew."
She felt Jane pull the blankets around her tightly. "How long does it take?"
"For templars in the Order, it takes decades. You see some old templars around a Circle, but never one over sixty or so. Those who leave the Order..." Elizabeth hesitated. "I think the Chantry controls the dosage for templars, so that they never take too much or too little, but ex-templars tend to… well, overdo it. Many of them begin losing their memories within a few years. Or they try to quit."
"And those who try to quit…" Jane began, her voice trailing off.
"Stopping can be very dangerous," Elizabeth explained after a moment. "People have terrible nightmares. They go mad, or they become despondent. Sometimes they fall ill. A few die."
She counted her heartbeats, waiting for her sister's reaction, until she heard Jane sigh. "Poor Cullen."
"Cullen has Cassandra," Elizabeth reminded her. "I'm sure his doses are the same as what he'd be taking in the Order."
"You don't think he's stopped, then?" Jane asked.
"No," Elizabeth replied. She reconsidered for a moment. "Well, maybe. But I've seen him train you. He doesn't fight like a man going through withdrawal. I… I really am sorry."
Jane sighed again. "Stop apologizing, Lizzie."
"I should have told you. I pushed you to like him, and you had no idea. I'm sorry that-"
"I already liked him," Jane replied firmly. "And don't make this about me."
"Still," Elizabeth began. "If you'd known-"
"No. I know now and I still like him. I'm not going to treat him any differently," Jane insisted. "I just… I didn't realize."
The sisters lay in silence after that. Despite the lump in her throat, the wine soon lulled Elizabeth into a deep sleep. Jane, however, stayed awake for several hours, staring past the shadows in her room.
Elizabeth awoke to the sound of rain drumming against Jane's window. To her annoyance, her sister had not been entirely wrong about the hangover, though she suspected her headache was as much from stress as it was from wine. She was surprised to see Jane was still asleep beside her. Usually, Jane was up at dawn, while Elizabeth could be left in bed until mid-morning if no one bothered her.
Then she recalled the previous night's conversation, and she looked at Jane sadly, knowing she must stayed awake half the night worrying about Cullen. She slipped out of bed to dress.
All of her clean clothing was back in her own room, so she pulled something out of her sister's closet instead. Jane was a similar size to Elizabeth, but several inches taller, and she had to hitch the skirt to ensure it didn't drag on the floor.
Voices floated up from the parlor, where the family often took their morning meal, and she was alarmed to hear that one of them belonged to Lady Trevelyan. She hurried down to find her mother and their three guests at the table, with Mary standing by the window with a cup of tea.
"Lizzie!" Lady Trevelyan exclaimed. "We were just discussing waking you. Your friends are very eager to get to Longbourn village this morning."
Elizabeth glanced out the window, frowning. The village was a three mile walk away and in this weather, it would hardly be a pleasant trip.
"The Herald is still asleep?" Cassandra asked.
"'The Herald!'" Lady Trevelyan trilled cheerfully, clapping her hands together. Silence fell around the table, and it appeared Varric was only barely containing his laughter. He coughed noisily into his hand.
"She is," Elizabeth said, feeling her cheeks flush. "I don't think she slept very well last night." She looked at Cassandra. "Should I go wake her?"
Her mother looked horrified by the idea. "No, Lizzie! Jane's been so busy lately. Surely she can sleep in if she needs it."
Cassandra's lips thinned. "My lady, as I have mentioned, multiple times, our business with Warden Blackwall is urgent. Leliana will expect a raven by this afternoon. We cannot delay ourselves-"
"Oh, don't let Jane stop you!" Lady Trevelyan said, waving her hand. "She can rest here while you and the others go down to Longbourn village to meet with the Warden." She shook her head dramatically. "You know, it would probably be safer for Jane that way, the poor dear. Kitty and Lydia tell me that some people in the village agree with the Chantry about her new title, and quite violently at that! I wouldn't want her to have to deal with them ."
Elizabeth found herself agreeing with her mother, knowing as she did that Jane was probably exhausted. She looked around the table, wondering if anyone would object.
"But Blackwall said he wanted to speak to Jane personally ," Mary said, turning from the window with a frown. Elizabeth heard the hard edge of a whine in her voice and grimaced. Mary was usually the most tolerable of her younger sisters, but she was prone to childish moods, and of course it would be Elizabeth's luck that today would produce one of them.
Lady Trevelyan hummed to herself thoughtfully. "Then perhaps you can invite him here for dinner tonight. Cook is making fish, and I'm sure there will be enough for ten."
The others exchanged a few glances and Solas shrugged at Cassandra.
"I suppose the Herald should sleep while she can," Cassandra admitted slowly. "Very well. We will depart for the village as soon as possible."
"This weather is dreadful," Mary complained to Elizabeth as they waited for the others under Longbourn's overhang. Sheets of rain made patterns in the air around them, vaguely reminding Elizabeth of the Veil. "We're going to get soaked."
"No, we won't," Elizabeth said, speaking loudly to be heard over the rain. She stepped out and raised a dome barrier with a smile. The water trickled and bounced off it. "You've got two mages with you, remember?"
Mary grunted, eyeing the barrier warily. "Don't remind me."
Elizabeth stepped back under the roof and dropped the barrier with a smirk. "Really, Mary, I thought you'd be happy to see 'magic serving man' and all that," she said, a note of teasing in her voice. Her sister made another noise, staring off in the distance and Elizabeth sighed, giving up on improving her mood.
The others appeared shortly thereafter. She raised the barrier again-ignoring Mary's pursed lips-and they set off. She wasn't surprised when her sister began to ask Cassandra about Divine Justinia as they exited the estate, though over the sound of the rain, she could barely hear what they were saying.
"That is a waste of mana," Solas told her as he fell into step with her and Varric. She raised an eyebrow at him, and he lifted his own hand, creating an invisible flat surface several feet above them. His barrier was smaller than hers and looked easier to control, but still covered the whole party.
Elizabeth stuck her chin in the air and waved away her dome. "Very well, apostate. You win this round."
Solas chuckled. "What do they teach you in the Circle, anyway?"
She gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, many things. Music, singing, drawing, dancing…"
"I meant in the study of magic," Solas said dryly.
"Magic?" Elizabeth said, feigning innocence. "I assure you, we do extensive reading on the subject."
Solas narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not being serious," he realized.
Elizabeth dropped the act and smiled. "The alternative seemed to be getting into a heated debate about Circle politics in front of my devout sister and a Seeker of Truth. I'll pass."
"What am I, chopped liver?" Varric asked.
"You hung out with a blood mage for years," she said, twisting her head toward him. "I'm not worried about losing your good opinion."
Solas looked at them both with some surprise. "A blood mage?"
"One of the mages in Kirkwall," Elizabeth said.
"All of the mages in Kirkwall," Varric muttered.
Elizabeth laughed. "True. I guess by the end the Champion was the only mage you knew in Kirkwall who didn't use blood magic."
"Actually, that honor goes to Anders," Varric said in a manner that implied he'd already thought of this. "Proof that the universe has a weird sense of humor." Elizabeth looked at him curiously, and under the weight of her gaze, his expression shifted. After a beat, he smiled at her. "And yeah, Hawke, of course. But that goes without saying."
Up ahead, Mary and Cassandra had slowed down enough that she could hear part of their conversation. Elizabeth tore her eyes from Varric's face, making a mental note to talk to him later.
"So, you are training to become a Grey Warden?" Cassandra asked.
Mary scowled. "I wish," she replied. "Father is making me 'consider the idea' for a whole year before he lets me join."
"Honestly, it's not bad advice, Mary," Elizabeth said. "Not many people join the Wardens by choice. There's a reason for that."
"Blackwall did," Mary replied bitterly. "And I'm a grown woman. I could run off and join now if I wanted to. He's just lucky I'd prefer to do it with his blessing."
"I'm sure your father wants to make sure you do not have regrets later," Cassandra said.
Mary rolled her eyes. "I'd be a hero. What's there to regret?"
"Many things," Solas replied. "Your life would never be yours again, not truly. The Wardens give up everything to stop the Blight. It's commendable, but it is also dangerous."
"Well, at least someone does something to stop the Blight," Mary said.
"Yes," Solas said. "A pity they do it so badly."
Mary stopped short, opening her mouth in outrage. Elizabeth rubbed her temples as her headache returned with a vengeance. She found herself wishing she'd gotten into that heated debate about Circle politics.
"Maybe not the time, Chuckles," Varric said in a sing-song voice.
Mary looked at her sister incredulously. "Forget it," she said. "I'm not bringing someone who talks about the Grey Wardens like that to Blackwall."
"Solas won't say anything to him," Elizabeth said, wishing she felt as sure about that as she sounded. "And Blackwall isn't twelve, Mary. Even if Solas did say something, I'm sure he could handle it."
"I'm not twelve either," Mary retorted, crossing her arms.
Elizabeth sighed. "I know that."
"As it happens, I have great respect for Warden Blackwall," Solas interjected. "I may not approve of his organization, but his actions have proven him to be a fair and honorable man. I would not insult such a person." Mary continued to glower at him.
"If you would like, Solas can wait outside," Cassandra suggested finally.
Solas frowned, but after half a second, he nodded. "Very well."
"See?" Elizabeth said to her sister, relief evident in her voice. She linked arms with Mary and began pulling her along the path again. "Now come on."
The group walked in silence for a moment.
Mary looked back at Solas. "How are you so familiar with the Warden anyway?"
Solas answered without hesitation. "I've come across echoes of his actions while walking the Fade."
Mary froze again, her face becoming pale as she stared at him, horrified. "Walking the Fade?" she sputtered.
"He meant while he sleeps," Elizabeth said, though that did not seem to comfort her sister at all. She tugged on Mary's stiff arm and they began to move forward again. "Come on, Mary, we're almost at the village."
Blackwall lived in a rented room off the local tavern and inn, an old building called The Merry Hart. Elizabeth had never been inside, but she'd heard about it from her youngest sisters. In the years she'd lived at Longbourn, there had been a near-weekly argument between Lydia and her parents about whether or not she was old enough to visit the tavern on her own.
Under Mary's glare, Solas began to retreat to a small table in the back corner.
Varric glanced at the stairs and then back at the table. "Don't worry, I'll keep you company, Chuckles."
"With only the purest of intentions, I assume," Solas replied.
Varric grinned. "I wouldn't say no to an ale, if that's what you're suggesting." Cassandra rolled her eyes.
Mary led the rest of them up the stairs to the row of rooms on the second floor. She knocked at the first door and waited. It opened a moment later, a bearded man in a gray doublet emerging. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.
"Lady Mary," Blackwall said with a curt nod. "Good to see you." He looked at Cassandra. "Seeker Pentaghast." Then his gaze slid to Elizabeth, glancing at her hair before falling to her left hand. "And the Herald of Andraste, I presume?"
Elizabeth started. "Oh! No. Sorry, Jane wasn't able to make it. I'm Elizabeth. One of Mary's other sisters."
Blackwall chuckled. "Yes, I could tell by the hair that you're a Trevelyan." He straightened. and waved his hand toward his room. "Come in." The three women filed in and he shut the door.
Cassandra rounded to face him. "We are searching for any information we can find about your fellow Grey Wardens."
"So Mary mentioned," Blackwall said, sitting on his bed. There were two chairs facing him, and Elizabeth and Mary each took one, while Cassandra leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms. "I'm afraid I don't have much in the way of news for you." He shrugged. "After Ostagar, we're all a little wary of all staying in the same place, as you can imagine."
"Do you have people you could contact?" Cassandra asked.
"Aye," Blackwall said. "And I've contacted them. But I haven't received a response."
"I see," Cassandra said. She looked at him intently. "Before their disappearance, did you notice anything strange or unusual about your fellow Wardens' behavior?"
Blackwall gave her a wary frown. "Strange how?"
"Anything that would seem out of order. Any signs of- corruption, or possession, or magical influence."
He stared at her for a moment, confused. "What exactly do you think we did?" he asked.
Cassandra shifted. "We are concerned that the Grey Wardens may have been involved with the death of the Divine."
"What?" Mary exclaimed angrily.
"Maker's balls," Blackwall muttered, covering his face with his hand. He dropped it immediately. "Pardon the language."
"The timing of their disappearance is very suspicious," Cassandra said.
Mary glared at her sister. "You didn't tell me about this."
"We're not making accusations, Mary, we're just asking questions," Elizabeth replied. " Someone caused the explosion, and we have to follow up on every lead, or-"
"No," Mary replied, shaking her head. She stood. "This is ridiculous. I'm leaving."
"Mary, it's alright," Blackwall replied, but she'd already left, slamming the door behind her. He stood as well, facing the Seeker. "Look, I don't know where the Wardens are, but that isn't unusual. Blight's over, everyone goes their separate ways." He shook his head, one hand stroking his beard. "But I'll tell you one thing: No Warden killed the Divine. Our purpose isn't political."
Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "And I am supposed to believe a man with your rank and background is unable find his own organization?"
"Believe what you want," Blackwall replied in a hard voice, folding his arms. "But with this war on, I can barely find ten people who know how to fight in this village, let alone another bloody Warden." His gaze darkened. "And I wouldn't throw stones in glass houses, Seeker. Last I heard, your whole peacekeeping organization was up in Rivain. Seems like a strange time to skip town, if you ask me."
To Elizabeth's surprise, Cassandra sighed and her shoulders relaxed. "I… do not disagree. I have wondered about that myself." Blackwall mirrored her, the tension in the room fading. She gave him a grim look. "I did not mean to offend you. Please understand that we must look into every lead. No matter how unlikely."
"I understand," he replied. "And I promise to let you know if I hear anything about the Wardens." Cassandra stared at him for a moment before she opened the door and left. Blackwall kept his arms folded and turned partially away from Elizabeth, lost in thought. She stood, watching him.
"I apologize for how that went," she said finally. "For what it's worth, Cassandra accused the Herald of causing the explosion the first time they met, as well."
Blackwall snorted, turning. He studied her face. "You're really not her?"
"No," Elizabeth replied, holding up her left hand. "No mark, I'm afraid."
"Right," Blackwall replied, nodding. "I've just heard the stories, so when Mary brought in a beautiful woman with blonde hair, I thought- well, you know."
Elizabeth blinked in surprise. "Beautiful?"
Blackwall's face fell. He dropped his gaze to the floor, looking like he desperately wanted to retreat. "I apologize, my lady. That was forward of me."
"I don't mind forward," Elizabeth replied, realizing a second too late that a flirtatious note had crept into her voice. Blackwall caught it and looked back up. She swallowed. "Mary said you wanted to meet Jane. If that's still the case, you're welcome to dinner tonight. At Longbourn, I mean."
Blackwall raised his eyebrows. "I would not turn down a chance to have dinner with you, my lady."
Elizabeth's lips twitched, a playful reply rising to them.
Then she remembered that she was a mage, and that this man was not, and that an uncertain future loomed before her, filled with templars and Circles and vials of blood.
She bit her tongue. The moment faded in the silence that followed, and several seconds passed before Blackwall cleared his throat and spoke again. "Though I'm not sure I have anything appropriate to wear to Longbourn estate."
She smiled. "We're Marchers. I assure you, what you're wearing is fine."
"If you're certain," Blackwall said. She turned to leave. "Wait." She stopped and he sighed, running a hand over his beard. "When your sister first mentioned the Inquisition was looking for me, I didn't expect-whatever this is. I thought you might need a Warden to help set things right. I told her I was planning to join you." He shrugged. "And with the rest of us missing, maybe you still need a Warden." He bowed his head slightly. "Tell the Herald that if that's the case, my blade is hers."
Elizabeth wasn't sure what sort of authority she held within the Inquisition, but she felt confident as she replied. "Then welcome to the Inquisition, Warden Blackwall. We're heading back to Haven in the morning." Their eyes met, and his crinkled as he returned her smile.