Woo. OKAY. That took forever. Dragon Age belongs to BioWare. The prayer is from the Canticle of Trials, nipped from the book The Calling.
The impressive oaken doors opened with a resounding creak, echoing throughout the hall, with only the sound of undoubtedly maniacal laughter to cut through. Catherine was more than a little disturbed to see the once dignified Bann rolling about on the floor doing a number of – admittedly, quite impressive – acrobatic tricks while waving his hands, complete with waggling fingers.
If it weren't for the child atop the dais in the receiving chamber, she likely would have been laughing.
The child – Connor, she presumed – was obviously possessed. Not that she had ever seen possession first hand, but she had enough 'your sin could kill us all' speeches to recognize the signs. Violet smudges decorated the boy's eyes indicating his body hadn't received the proper rest, eyes were bloodshot, irises flashing a bright amethyst and his skin was pallid, bluish veins clearly visible even from a distance.
Connor sneered at their approach. "Hmph. These are what caused so much trouble in my village, woman?" he demanded rather than asked the cowering Arlessa.
"I-I... ye-yes, Connor." Isolde stammered, eyes refusing to leave her son.
"You!" the demon-child screeched with finger pointed at Catherine. "You ruined my fun and saved this stupid village!" His arms flailed exasperatedly, face scrunching into a petulant scowl. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to make that army? There's not even enough fools in this town to make half of that, now!"
Catherine bit back a 'well, who's fault is that?' as the boy went on.
"Do you at least have a good reason for being such a stick in the mud?"
The woman clenched her fists in an attempt to control her temper. "I am here to see your Arl." she spat. "It's not my fault your disgusting army of dead fishermen didn't hold me back."
"Oh, would you look at that!" Connor cackled. "Who knew some of you mortals have some backbone. One can hardly tell with this rabble." A genuinely mournful sigh left the demon-child's lips, punctuated by a shrug.
Alistair stepped up by Cat's side, muscles obviously tense even through his armor. "Where's the Arl?" he growled, surprisingly menacing. "Is he even still alive, demon?"
She felt both of her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline at Alistair's sudden assertiveness, but didn't reprimand him; her chocolate orbs locked with the demon's unnaturally glowing eyes expectantly.
A cruel smirk twisted the boy's once-sweet face. "Oh, how disappointing. You're here to see that old man?" Connor sighed and patted Bann Teagan on the head fondly. "After I put on a show for you and allowed you into my home, you'd rather see him!" The boy pouted.
Isolde suddenly interjected. "Connor. Connor, please!" The woman's voice cracked with fear. "D-don't hurt anyone else!"
Connor staggered back, clutching his forehead; Isolde was kneeling by his side in moments.
"Connor? Son?"
"M-Mother?" the boy asked, voice trembling. "I-I'm sorry mother! It promise--"
Isolde grasped onto her son's shoulders, shaking him as hysterical sobs wracked her body. "CONNOR! D-don't do this!" she begged, tears streaming down her face.
The boy's head snapped up with a growl, shoving the distraught woman onto her back. "Quit your incessant whining, woman! You're boring me!" Unnatural eyes scanned over the entire room. "You're all boring me! Uncle," Connor jerked his head toward Catherine, "take care of them."
Chaos erupted as the demon fled the scene, running for the stairs.
"Sten! Damon! Alistair!" Catherine barked. "Take out the guards – kill them if you have to! Morrigan, paralyze the Bann!"
Orders were carried out quickly; the fight was laughably fast. They might have been fine guards for protecting a relatively peaceful area of Ferelden, but against two extraordinarily well-trained men, a similar Mabari, and two powerful sorceresses... well, it was a walk in a park compared to what else Redcliffe had to offer.
Luckily, Morrigan's paralysis kept Teagan from getting too injured – but jostled enough to seem to have come to his senses. Alistair dispelled the nobleman, catching him as he lurched forward. Shaking his head, Teagan grasped onto Alistair's arm in way of thanks, and righted himself, staring worriedly at her.
He took stock of the room, face blanching as he noted the dead guards. "I... I should thank you for seeing fit to keep me alive." he said. "Where did Connor go?"
Isolde timidly came to his side, feet barely lifting off the ground in a combination of despair and weariness. Her hands clasped around the nobleman's arm tightly in an attempt to just feel; Teagan stiffened, but softened soon after, looking at the ragged woman with pity flickering in his tired eyes.
"H-he went upstairs." the Arlessa said, turning her head to look at Catherine. "Perhaps to keep an eye on Eamon? I do not know."
She shuddered and bit her lip, tears threatening to spill once again; the bann put a comforting hand over hers and patted, nodding in gentle encouragement.
"Do you know what... what can be done? I-I could not bear it to lose either of them. I-it won't come to that, will it?" she asked timidly.
Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. "Your son is an abomination. A demon has possessed him; it sounds like an incarnation of desire... they're some of the more powerful spirits in the Fade." she paused, letting her hand drop. "We'll need to kill him, then."
Bann Teagan nodded grimly, as if he had already assumed that would be necessary. Isolde didn't take the news as well.
"NO!" she cried. "He's my son... there must..." she gasped, eyes going wide. "Th-the mage responsible for all of this. H-he's still in the dungeon... Perhaps he--"
"He's still alive, yes." Catherine cut in agitatedly. "But Jowan's a fool; a blood mage and a poor one at that." Her brow furrowed as she paused thoughtfully, finger tapping her chin.
"Well. I doubt he could make things worse." Catherine chuckled to herself. "Teagan, could you go get the idiot?" He nodded, leaving a hand-wringing Isolde chewing her lip.
She turned to Alistair, letting her hand grip his forearm; he stiffened in response, glaring hatefully.
"Look, I know you hate me right now," she said resignedly, "maybe you always will. I need to know, at least for now, when I ask you to be ready to kill the maleficar, you'll only be looking at Jowan to run through."
The templar's eyes went wide. "I... Yes. Alright." he agreed, brow pinched indicating it was about the last thing he wanted to do. "For now. And I still have my eye on you, maleficar." Alistair spat out the word like it was poison.
Catherine rolled her eyes. "Great. Go tell your girlfriend to find a spot to line up a shot should Jowan get out of hand." Alistair was so angry, he didn't even jump to the bait. She sighed and released his arm.
He made a growling noise and stalked over to Leliana in long, angry strides, all while unsheathing his sword. The woman worriedly cocked her head at him, murmuring things Catherine couldn't hear, but Alistair seemed to deflate slightly, and nod with a small smile; Leliana kissed his cheek and headed to a corner to string her bow in preparation.
Morrigan, Sten, and Damon all spread out in the hall: the qunari stood a respectable distance from Isolde, but close enough to be a threat should she attempt to stop them from doing what was needed, the witch took a position by the main entry door, and Damon waited with hackles raised towards the center of the room.
The bann returned, roughly shoving a bound Jowan into the entry chamber. The mage stumbled and muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath as he was dragged unceremoniously in front of the two women.
"Hello, Cat." the disheveled man said lightly. "Good to see you remembered me."
Needless to say, Catherine was not amused.
"Connor is possessed." she said bluntly. He paled and bit his lip. "We're going to kill him; Isolde seems to think you might be able to help."
Jowan's teeth sank deeper into his lip, concern evident. "I... might know of a way. But it-it's not a much better solution. Someone dies, either way." he warned.
The dark-skinned mage nodded, chin in hand, tapping her foot. The corners of her mouth turned down as she looked at Teagan and Isolde straight on.
"He means blood magic." she stated, ignoring the combined gasp. "We could get into the Fade and defeat the demon that has a hold on your boy, but someone would need to die in order to get the amount of power necessary."
"Hey! Hold on, there!" Alistair interjected sharply, rapidly closing space, sword in hand. "W-we can't just sacrifice one life for another!" His sword pointed dangerously close to her belly; she stifled the urge to cringe and stood firm. "Th-the Circle has lyrium, and mages! We could go to them for help; why do this?"
Damon let out a harsh bark and ran between his mistress and the emotional templar, lips curled up in a dog-sneer; Alistair looked confused for a moment before noticing he was armed. Instead of sheathing his weapon, he simply gave Catherine more space, eying her warily. The mabari stood his ground, tense muscles ready to snap into attack mode at any moment, but his growling subsided.
Leliana appeared by her templar's side, face creased with concern. "Would you have her leave the town helpless for even a few days?" she asked softly.
Alistair glared at the sister, huffing in frustration. "She doesn't need to take all of us. There are horses--"
The mage snorted. "Horses. I haven't rode a day in my life – the Tower is rather lacking in the husbandry department – and I am not leaving leaving this town in any of your hands. We will do the ritual, or kill the boy. End of discussion." she declared in a tone that would brook no argument.
For a moment, her fellow Warden looked as if he would attack; his entire body shook with unspent rage and adrenaline, grip on his sword tightened to the point of his gauntlets grinding audibly against the pommel. Luckily, Leliana managed to placate him with a reassuring hand on the shoulder; Alistair scoffed and waved his unarmed hand angrily, muttering a 'fine'.
She caught Morrigan's gaze for a moment, and they shared a knowing eye roll.
Her attention was brought back to their predicament when Teagan cleared his throat to speak. "So, with this ritual... someone would need to be sacrificed, and in turn Connor would live? Free of the demon?"
Before Jowan could speak, Isolde cut in. "I will do it." she said simply.
"Isolde! Eamon would not--" the bann began, only to be cut off by the Arlessa.
"I will do it." she repeated. "He's just a boy; he only wanted to help his father. Don't punish him for that." Isolde's breath hitched and she blinked back tears. "Th-this is all my fault. I just wanted to... to keep him with me. Surely you understand? I could not bear the thought of having m-my son locked away in a prison!"
Catherine swallowed the lump in her throat. She looked directly into the Arlessa's eyes when she spoke. "You're willing to die, then?"
She nodded. "Yes. Even if this was not my doing..." Hot tears once again trailed down her face, licking her wrinkles and clinging to her chapped lips. "He is my son." Isolde declared, as if that explained everything.
The Warden looked to Teagan for some bit of guidance; his brow furrowed, but he nodded subtly soon after.
"Very well." Catherine ignored the cry of anger and the soothing sounds that followed. "Jowan. Do what you need." She twisted her torso to look at a near-boiling Alistair. "I will be the one to enter the Fade. Can I trust you only to kill me if necessary?"
"I will do my duty." he sneered.
"If you so much as scratch that woman without necessity, fool, I will boil your entrails and feed them to the mongrel." Morrigan snapped with a far more pull on her lips.
"Enough!" Catherine boomed in a voice she had no idea she had. The guilty parties stiffened and looked suitably chastised.
Turning to Jowan, she gave him a curt nod and unbound his hands quietly; there would be no more words between them, never again. She helped him with the arcane symbols; various Tevinter runes to decorate the floor and the sacrifice equally.
There were no words spoken as Isolde entered the magic circle; the proud woman held her head high. As Jowan began uttering the words of power, Catherine heard a muttered prayer:
I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Fade;
For there is no darkness, nor death either, in the Maker's Light.
And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost.
And then, she screamed.
It wasn't just a scream, even; it was a keening screech that reverberated off the walls and back again only to express the torment of a woman who's blood was being boiled inside of her body. Jowan's voice grew louder, ancient Tevinter words spilling from his cracked lips with a subtle reverence; blood began to pour from the woman's eyes, mouth, and nose, bits of gore lodged in the rivers of red.
Then there was a sickening snap and Catherine vaguely remembered falling to the ground.
She awoke victorious, though that did not mean much.
Catherine wearily rubbed her eyes, roughly abusing the sensitive skin until puffy.
"Oh, thank the Maker!" A lilting Orlesian voice said. Leliana. "We feared you would not wake!"
Catherine began to rise, but was quickly pushed back by a pair of delicate hands "No! I sent Alistair to check on Connor the moment you stirred... I assumed - well I know you two are not getting along." she murmured. "You were successful, yes?"
The mage attempted to speak, but only a wheezing puff of air escaped; Maker, she was tired. She settled with a nod. Leliana smiled weakly and gave her a water skin, which she greedily accepted.
"He will come around." Catherine nearly choked on her water. "He will. I-I know you are maleficar but I know you are only doing what you think is necessary. You are a good--"
"Don' talk 'bout wha' you don' know." she snapped, albeit weakly and half-delirious with sleep deprivation.
Hungrily, she slurped down the water, drinking so quickly that Leliana eventually took it away; Catherine coughed huskily, but managed a petulant whine.
The sister chuckled and shook her head. "You need sleep; we all do." she said gently, gesturing at the bed even through Catherine was already in it. "Sleep, Cat. I will tell the rest that you need to recuperate. We will deal with the fallout tomorrow, no?"
The exhausted mage just murmured something about 'sending the dog in' and promptly fell asleep with no need for any persuasion.