*Warning* This chapter contains mentions of childhood sexual abuse. I've watered it down from the main version on Ao3, and the rest of the fic isn't likely to contain such content again, so I thought it would be better to warn about it here before you read. (Also, there are definitions for foreign words at the bottom)
"You can wait here until she finishes," Ser Barris said as he led the Seeker, Warden, and ambassador into a stony waiting room. It was not exactly a picture of comfort, sporting one narrow window and furnished with hard wooden chairs. The only attempt at decoration was a single dark Seeker tapestry. Taking this into consideration, Ser Barris' eyes wandered over to the prim ambassador. "I apologize if it's not comfortable..."
"It is fine," Josephine assured him with a smile as she took her seat.
Blackwall sat down near her, while Cassandra elected to stand.
"If there's nothing you might need," Ser Barris began after a moment's silence, but Cassandra cut him off.
"Tell me, Ser Barris – what does the Lord Seeker want from this meeting?"
The Knight-Templar blinked. "Why, I thought he explained it in the letter."
She glowered at him. "Josephine?"
Josephine immediately looked over to Cassandra. "To work out negotiations," she replied.
"But to what end?"
Ser Barris frowned. "To better relations with the Inquisition, of course."
Cassandra began to pace about, her face brooding. "Is that really true?" she asked at last. "Even if we were to establish such relations, could we trust the Lord Seeker not to change them as suddenly as he brought them about?" Before Ser Barris could respond, she turned around to face him. "Something is not right. And you know it."
Josephine suddenly perked up. "He called her 'Herald of Andraste' – as did you, when addressing him," she added, turning to Ser Barris. "The Lord Seeker may have become fickle, but he never was any flatterer. He could have chosen to call her 'the Herald', or simply 'Herald' instead; a very drastic change, in light of his former opinions."
"I assumed it was because he wanted to facilitate negotiations," Ser Barris said, though his frown and the tone of his voice told them he was now thinking otherwise.
Blackwall looked from each of the women to the templar, then to Cassandra again. "What do you think is–"
Suddenly, a flustered templar rushed into the room, panting heavily. "Derlin," he wheezed, "they're going crazy – it's not safe – you've got to–"
Ser Barris' frown deepened. "What are you talking about?" But before the question could be answered, a man in bigger armor leading two others behind him strode stoically into the doorway. Ser Barris recognized him, as his question indicated. "Knight-Captain?"
The cowering templar gasped, scrabbling frantically for his sword. Just as he had it withdrawn, one of the men behind the Knight-Captain intercepted him, knocking the weapon out of his hands with a savage blow before plunging a blade deep into his abdomen. Blackwall and Cassandra instinctively reached for their weapons and Josephine let out a scream of horror as the bleeding templar fell dead to the ground. Ser Barris stared at the corpse and then up at the Knight-Captain, eyes wide with incredulity.
The Knight-Captain's response was cryptic and confusing. "The Lord Seeker had a plan, but the Herald ruined it by arriving with purpose. It sowed too much dissent."
"Knight-Captain Denam, I must know what's going on!" Ser Barris demanded.
"You were all supposed to be changed!" Captain Denam barked. "Now we must purge the questioning knights!"
"Change...?" A look of horror overcame Ser Barris' face. "You can't mean–"
"The Elder One is coming! No one will leave this place, who is not stained red!" Captain Denam waved forth the two templars at his side, and they advanced into the room with their weapons ready.
"Maker's breath!" Ser Barris cursed, and he, too, drew out his sword.
"Có phải không?" the old woman demanded again.
Ahnnie backed away from her and bumped into Cole. With a nervous jump, she whirled around to face him, but when she did so, the door and the tower room were revealed to have disappeared – in their stead were modern furnishings, faux leather sofas and a glass coffee table cornering a squat television set, the old kind with antennae on top. And they were not alone; two younger women, one squat, one tall, stood glowering on either side of the grandmother, their arms crossed. A skinny man stood off to one side, his black mustache drooping on his moping face. Behind the adults, three younger children sat with their faces downcast at a glass dining table.
And then, when Ahnnie completed her circuit, she found herself staring down on a frightened little girl with bobbed hair.
Me, she realized.
"Nói đi," one of the women snapped, and Ahnnie turned back around to look at the squat one.
"Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe," the tall one warned.
The little girl behind her began to sniffle.
"Nín!" the squat one snapped again.
Cole watched everyone around them with troubled eyes. "What are they saying?" he asked at last.
Ahnnie answered his question while staring at the scene, unable to take her eyes off of it. "I was seven or eight," she explained in a trembling voice. "Mom said something about grandma that I let slip while I was playing with my sister and cousins, and...and I can't remember what it was, but then grandma, my aunts, and my dad took it upon themselves to get the truth out of me."
She now realized what Cole meant when he said 'mirrors on mirrors on memories'; Envy was using things from her memories to try to 'know' her. First Maxwell Trevelyan, and now this...
"But she said it, didn't she?" her grandmother asked again. "Didn't she?"
The little girl pursed her lips and shook her head slowly.
The old woman bent down and gripped her by the shoulder. "Do you swear it? Do you swear upon the altar that you're telling us the truth?"
"You know what happens if you swear falsely!" the tall aunt chimed in.
Hesitance; then a slow, excruciating nod.
Ahnnie remembered this next part all too well. The first thing that came to mind when her grandmother smiled was that she looked like a witch, the evil kind that gobbled up children. "Then your mother is a liar, isn't she?"
Straining effort gave way to cracking pressure. The girl's lower lip trembled, then let out a whimper, and in a great hiccup of air, shuddered to life in a series of sobs. Tears streamed freely down the little cheeks as though suddenly released by floodgates, and the eyes from which they emanated squinted shut, unwilling to meet the cruel gazes of the woman standing in front of her.
"I knew it!" the squat aunt shrieked. "I knew she was too much of a coward–"
"No, she said it!" argued the tall aunt. "She's just using her daughter as a cover–"
"Who cares? In the end, she can't be trusted," the grandmother interrupted, rising up to her feet.
From the dining table, one of the children gripped its glass edge with as much patience as a frustrated five or six year old could muster. "Ba!" she cried out a moment later, mixing her English and Vietnamese in a stilted tongue. "Daddy! Tell them to stop bothering Chị Hai! I want to go home!"
The mustached man stirred to life at this plea and morosely nodded at the three women. "All right, that's enough," he grumbled, heading over to the crying child. "You know what happened now. I'm taking her home."
The child at the table immediately ran up to her father and sister. The other two children looked up, as if noticing everything for the first time. "Bye Khang, bye Phương," she said to them before rushing protectively over to her sister's side.
"Bye Tiên," they waved, their voices subdued. "See you tomorrow..."
The scene dimmed and the figures froze, leaving Ahnnie and Cole as the only sentient beings left in the room. Ahnnie then realized she had been watching the exchange with bated breath, and heaved a great inhalation of air to recompose herself.
"After all this time, it still brings up pain," Cole muttered, and Ahnnie whipped her gaze over to him. "Tight and endless, difficult questions–"
"Stop that," she snapped. "Stop reading my mind." I didn't know he could do that.
"No," Cole shook his head. "Your pain. I hear peoples' pain–"
"Okay, whatever!" She turned away from him, lest she be tempted to knock that sullen face of his with the blunt end of her sword. Returning to the matter at hand, she was not sure the memory was completely over. There was more to it, because it continued...She followed a sound up the stairs, hearing what seemed to be another familiar voice. At the top landing, she noticed one of the rooms had a light on, shining bright against the gloom.
"Are you going to follow it?" Cole asked from behind her, and she jolted in shock; either he had been really quiet, or he used that disappearing trick of his to sneak up behind her.
I wish he wasn't here, she lamented. He's super creepy. But then again, in these mazes of her own mind, did she really want to be alone? Even he is better than nobody, I guess.
"I heard that," Cole reproached, and his drooping eyes appeared to droop even further.
Ahnnie opened her mouth, then clamped it shut. Great. I have to watch what I think now – or at least, what I think of while in pain. Mental, physical, emotional pain...she'd have to watch them all. "Sorry," she apologized, before making her way down the dark hallway to the lighted room.
Solas watched the clouds overhead whilst leaning leisurely against the door of the carriage. They were puffy and lazy, ambling slowly along to the warm breeze that blew across the courtyard. The masked driver on the seat above him stared absentmindedly at his surroundings, trying to pretend the elven mage was not just an arm's reach below him.
The group had been some time in the fortress now; for how long, Solas couldn't tell. What he could tell, however, was that he was feeling something close to boredom as he stood waiting for them to finish. Just because he put on mild airs, it did not mean that he was immune to such feelings from time to time. Had this been a normal day, he would have contented himself with his studies and musings, continually expanding or working on his knowledge of the Fade...or just doing whatever, as long as it was to his liking.
The guards called out to one another, breaking him out of his thoughts. He turned disinterestedly in their direction, looking at them only because they had made a noise. Then he frowned, and suddenly straightened, when he noticed something out of place – a strange essence, a peculiar song, unlike that of regular lyrium – and narrowed his eyes at a series of chests some of the guards were carrying into the fortress. But just when he thought that to be the full extent of it, he noticed something else just as alarming.
The guards were closing the gates.
The driver noticed this as well, and fidgeted in his seat. "Excusez-moi? There are still guests inside."
If the men heard him, they did not show it.
"Excusez-moi?" the driver called out again. "Did you not hear me?"
Solas opened a carriage door, reaching in with a discrete hand to slide out his staff.
"They are guests of Madame Vivienne!" the driver shouted just as the gates came to a full close. "First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchanter to the Imperial Court! This slight will not be forgotten!"
One of them finally paid attention to him, but not in the way he expected. With a nonchalant gesture, a guard withdrew a crossbow from his side and fired it at the driver, shooting him clean through the head. "A mage's lackey," he grunted as he put the crossbow away. "Hmph. That'll teach 'im to tout threats of mages in a Templar stronghold."
Another guard chuckled, but then pointed out the presence of an actual mage in the courtyard. "A bloody knife-ear at that," he added disgustedly.
"Right," the first guard nodded, and they headed over to the elf's side of the carriage to deal with him.
Solas only marveled at their stupidity as they wondered where he was, all the while he deftly snuck up on them from behind and blast spirit energy at their backs, bending the mana in such a way that the life was sucked out of them with nary a sound but the quiet thumps of their bodies as they fell to the ground. When he finished, he looked towards the fortress entrance, thin brows furrowing in suspicion.
Without a moment's hesitance, he strode towards the entrance. Almost immediately, the remaining guards stopped what they were doing and rushed for him, determined not to let him pass. He quickly did a head count of them – seven – and whirled his staff in a channeling of mana that, when he brought the point down to the ground, sent another blast of spirit energy through the courtyard. His intent was not to kill this time, but to stun, yet when the wave of energy dissipated, not many of the guards were stunned quite as easily – and he believed he had used enough mana to overcome even the normal templar capabilities.
He turned his attention on those who appeared especially resistant to his magic and chanted some words under his breath. Let us see how much I am capable of...He could feel the magic shimmering in the air as he cast another spell from his staff, the ancient power thrumming through his veins, and in one final, triumphant push, he expelled the energy at the templars rushing at him.
This energy was different from what he had cast earlier. It was stronger, forceful, penetrating – it filtered through the redness of their hearts until it struck their very core, damaging them irreparably. One by one, the guards faltered in their advance, until a moment later, they fell as laboriously as fallen trees.
The last one dropped to the ground, leaving Solas free to show himself into the Seeker fortress. Not bad, considering how long it's been, he thought, flexing a hand.
As Solas advanced into the hall, he could hear a great clamor coming from what he believed to be the great hall, as well as from above a flight of stairs winding to his left. Above those stairs, he thought he recognized the distant sound of Blackwall's voice. But first, he approached a couple of chests sitting by a wall, picking out the one closest to him.
With the bottom of his staff, he flipped it open. Vials of a glowing red substance greeted his eyes. "Red lyrium," he murmured, and ran urgently up the stairs.
"Stay behind me!" Blackwall commanded to Lady Josephine, who readily obeyed.
Ser Barris met Captain Denam's charge, leaving Cassandra and Blackwall to face off his templar aids. The templars proved to be difficult opponents, fighting with a fury and strength that was almost superhuman. The Seeker and Warden found themselves pushed back with every assault, just barely keeping up with each forceful blow. At last, when Cassandra spied an open moment, she focused her abilities on the raging templar before her. Fire in his blood, coursing through his veins–
The templar roared and writhed in pain, which Cassandra regarded with a measure of satisfaction. Her Seeker abilities still appeared to be in working order, despite the templars' new ferocity. They would be difficult to implement in combat, though; she had mostly found the necessity of their use when interrogating, rather than fighting. To use it in that manner, she would have to divert a large majority of her focus.
She quickly cut the screaming templar down before he might recover and came to Blackwall's assistance. The Warden was holding well against his templar, although if the fight continued any longer, he might just wedge Josephine between his back and the wall. Cassandra dealt the templar a ringing blow through an open side at his back and together, the Seeker and Warden succeeded in pushing him back. Still, it took quite some effort, and it wasn't until they had forced him against one of the chairs that he stumbled over it and allowed Blackwall the opening required to plunge his blade through the torso.
That only left the crazed Knight-Captain; Ser Barris had not been faring as well, having been beaten back to the far side of the room by Captain Denam. He blocked each oncoming blow more feebly, and sweat beaded all over his brow.
"Do you not see?" Denam cried. "Red makes us superior! You could have had a share of the glory, but you refused the Elder One!" With a ferocious swipe, Captain Denam knocked the sword clean out of Ser Barris' hand. "Prepare to face the consequences of your foolishness..."
"Barris!" Cassandra shouted.
The Knight-Templar closed his eyes, sensing his defeat. But just before the final blow could be dealt, a wintry crackling chilled the air in front of him. He opened his eyes a moment later to find the Knight-Captain frozen over, and scrambled to his feet before the ice burst into pieces and a followup blast of spirit energy rendered Denam unconscious.
"I thought you might need my assistance," Solas remarked as he came into the room.
Ser Barris looked bewilderingly at the mage. "How did you–"
"By doing what I had to," Solas finished dryly, before bending down to check the Knight-Captain's pulse.
"Is he still alive?" Cassandra asked.
Solas nodded. "But barely – I used more magic than was necessary. If we use a healing elixir, he may survive."
"If he even deserves it," Ser Barris spat.
Cassandra regarded the armored figure lying on the ground. "We will heal him," she then decided. "Then we will judge him after we find his master."
"Very well." Solas reached into a bag at his belt and opened a vial of the said elixir, tipping it gently into Captain Denam's open mouth.
Ser Barris knelt down beside the elf as he worked and picked off a ring of keys from the Knight Captain's belt. "Here, these are his keys," he said, tossing them over to Cassandra. "I would question the Lord Seeker about this...'Elder One'."
"And the use of red lyrium," Solas added, tracing a veiny red pattern on the Captain's face. "It would appear that the templars have been using it in lieu of regular lyrium."
Ser Barris looked uncomfortable, but he was interrupted before he had a chance to speak.
"Lady Ahnnie!" Josephine cried out, apparently having regained her wits. "She is alone with the Lord Seeker!"
Cassandra cursed, suddenly remembering that fact. "Someone must stand guard over the Knight-Captain while the rest of us go to find her."
Solas volunteered for that duty, and Josephine was ordered to stay with him for her safety. They barricaded the doorway of the room as best as they could, with Solas positioned to meet any oncoming threat should it arrive, before Cassandra, Blackwall, and Ser Barris felt comfortable enough to head for the Lord Seeker's office. Along the way, they could hear the battle cries of the fighting templars echoing from the hall below them.
The scene changed again to the living room of a different house. The sound of two children crying was what met her ears first, followed by a reproachful female voice.
"How could you let her say that about me?" the voice was admonishing in Vietnamese. "You should have known better!"
Ahnnie's jaw tightened. Mom, she thought.
The oldest child sobbed harder. "Mẹ, con xin lỗi – I'm sorry, Mommy!"
The younger child gripped onto the mother's sleeve in a desperate plea. "Mommy please, please don't go! It was a mistake! It won't happen again!"
The woman withdrew her arm in a dramatic sweep and started weeping into the couch. "First my own mother and sisters, and now my daughters? I can't handle this any longer!"
"Mẹ!" the oldest child cried again.
From behind the couch, a man with hawkish features stood cradling a baby boy, whose face was scrunched in preparation for a fresh onslaught of crying – the scene before him was distressing him immensely. The man himself was engaged in the same theatrics, wailing and tearing up and adding more fuel to the distraught woman's fire. "Don't do this – they're just little children! They were influenced by that side of the family; they didn't know any better!"
Dramatic pansy, Ahnnie spat, the bile rising to her throat.
"Of course, it's because they love them, and not me!" the woman added.
"You stupid bitch," Ahnnie cursed, though she knew the memory phantoms wouldn't hear her, much less respond. Shortly after that debacle in her grandmother's house, her father dropped them off at their mother's for the regular two day visit. Halfway through what was supposed to have been an enjoyable evening, one of the aunts phoned her mother and set off the bomb that was the disaster playing before her.
Cole looked at Ahnnie, his expression indiscernible. "She wanted to go away," he then said, reading the pain from her yet again. "She wanted to leave, and never see you again until you were grown."
"She was being dramatic," Ahnnie interjected. "Trying to make us hate 'that side' of the family while making us more loyal to her. It would've done us a lot of good if she just followed through with what she said." Her eyes narrowed on the man, still sniveling in that disgustingly pathetic manner of his. "Bastard," was all she could ground out as she watched his face.
"Do you love your mother, or do you not?" the man then asked the children, holding desperately onto the baby boy. "Do you still want to see your brother again?"
"Yes!" they cried.
"Then don't talk to those people anymore! They hate your mother – they brought her to ruin, destroying her businesses, stealing her money!"
Ahnnie slapped her sword back into its scabbard to grip her head with both hands. "Oh my god! Is there no way to make you shut up?"
"I didn't say anything," Cole protested.
"No–" She waved a frustrated hand at the hawkish man. "Him – my stepdad!" She began to pace about the room in an agitated manner. "There must be some way out – I'm the one who can't take this anymore!" Perhaps there was some door, some exit to this torture. If Envy's plan was to aggravate her, then it was working. "Through here," she called out to Cole when she opened what was supposed to have been the garage door.
But instead of a garage, they came into a small room with wooden paneling all around. Ahnnie looked confusedly about her, and at the forms of her twelve-year-old self and her ten-year-old sister, dressed in formal outfits and sitting quietly in upholstered chairs. What is this? she thought, trying to remember...
Her father appeared in the doorway a short moment later, his sad eyes fixated on them. Ahnnie's throat caught. "No, it can't be–"
"Your mother has full custody now," he said, his voice low.
Neither child said a word. The younger one, however, was pursing her lips tightly.
"Since you've decided to go with her, I won't contest it any further."
"No!" Ahnnie cried.
He gazed upon them a little longer, trying to see if it would elicit any responses; but the girls kept their eyes on the walls, not daring to speak. "Just remember that I love you," he said at last, before disappearing from the doorway.
"No!" Ahnnie shouted again. "You should have fought harder for us!" She tried to grab her father's arm, but her hand went through it as though through a hologram. "Ba! Đừng đi mà! Ba!"
Cole grabbed her back. "It's not real," he reminded her. "It's only a remnant of what was real."
She rudely jerked her hand out of his grasp, but had to acknowledge what he said was true. Regardless, tears sprung from her eyes as she looked at her younger self maintaining a blank face, while that of her sister's threatened to give way to crying.
"I was horrible to him," she choked. "I said everything mom told me to say to him, hurtful things–" She squinted her eyes and wiped them with the back of her hand. She was surprised to hear herself admitting this to a complete stranger; it was not even something she had put much thought into until she saw it happening again, as vividly as the first time. "He wasn't all that great, but at least – at least he was better than her. We should have chosen him instead..."
"Because of what happened next?"
Ahnnie stopped crying. Before she could wonder where Envy's voice was coming from, her twelve-year-old self slipped out of the chair and walked over to her and Cole, eyes glowing green and mouth curved into a malevolent smile.
She immediately backed up next to Cole. "How did you follow us here?" she demanded.
"I am everywhere," Envy said. "And I will know everything."
The room around them darkened until the glowing green points of Envy's eyes were all they could see. Ahnnie drew out her sword again, wary of an eerie sursurrus whispering around them.
"What's happening?" she asked, and then suddenly Cole melted away from her. "C-Cole!" she stuttered, trying to grab him back. He seemed shocked as well, but could do nothing as his visage faded away into the darkness. "Cole!"
Envy chuckled. "You won't need him where you're going..."
They met with red templars not less than a few moments after leaving Solas and Josephine. Those templars were engaged in combat with other templars, others who had refused corruption and were desperately trying to flee. Taking the advantage of surprise, Cassandra guided Ser Barris and Blackwall into flanking positions that crept upon the red templars from behind.
The red templars whirled around in surprise, suddenly outnumbered six to three. Even so, they fought savagely, and proved to be more than either side could handle; with the regular templars almost exhausted, and Cassandra, Barris, and Blackwall fresh out of a recent fight, they were all soon pushed back into a retreating position on one side of the hall.
"Maker's breath," Blackwall hissed as he received a cut to the upper arm. He drew back accordingly and parried an incoming blow, favoring his injured arm. "Is there no stopping these brutes? They fight like three men to each one!"
"It's the red lyrium," Ser Barris gasped. "The Lord Seeker made us take it, but a number of us were wary of something so different–" He grunted as he took a blow to his side from one of the red templars' shields. "It changed our commanders, making them more violent – more paranoid."
Cassandra pushed against her assailant's blade, and then cried, "Any who are templars, stand back!"
"What for?" one of the templars on their side asked.
"Just listen to me!" Noting Ser Barris' withdrawal from the combat, she turned to Blackwall. "Cover for me," she instructed him, and the Warden nodded back at her.
It would be too much for Blackwall to hold off three of these templars at once, so she had to work quickly. Drawing on her inner energies, she focused on the three templars before her. With a steadying breath, she tapped into their bloodstreams, listening to the song that coursed through their veins – a noticeably different song, more aggressive and heated – and set it on fire.
It achieved the desired effect, although not as thoroughly as she hoped. The templars went wild with pain, howling like madmen, and fought even madder. Cassandra discerned an instability to their performance, however, and rallied the templars behind them to charge forward. "Push with everything you have!" she commanded. "And no matter what you do, do not hesitate!"
With a rallying cry, the men obeyed her, diving in for the kill. Regardless of whether the red templars had been their brothers-in-arms, their companions in the mess hall and fellow colleagues, they cut them down now like livestock in the slaughtering pen. With that valiant push forward, they were able to regain their position, and even successfully break down the red templars' stance. Ser Barris dealt the first kill, knocking a red templar over the side of the balustrade; he fell to his death with a crack on the stone floor below. A fellow templar followed through with a spearing stab through a red templar's gut, and Blackwall aided the other two in cornering the last enemy before knocking off his helmet and slicing through his neck.
"Are you all right?" Blackwall panted as he looked over to Cassandra.
She nodded in affirmative to him, though she could feel the beginnings of weariness course through her arms. The Warden must have noticed how little she fought in that push, dealing only assistant blows rather than any kills. I must watch how I use that ability, she thought, gripping her sword a little tighter. Damn it, if I had known, I would have practiced–
"Thank you, Seeker," Ser Barris said, interrupting her thoughts. "Without that, we might not have made it."
She nodded to him. Then, turning to the normal templars, she asked them, "What is the situation below?"
The templars looked at each other, before looking over to her. "It's madness, Seeker," one of them said. "The red ones – they've overrun the great hall. They called us in and locked it to...to..." He shook his head. "We were among those who managed to escape."
Cassandra waved the matter away. "I understand. Are there any more of your brethren who are not corrupted?"
The templar who had been speaking to her gulped. "I'm afraid not, Seeker."
"At least, not that we know of right now," another one added.
She watched their weary faces in turn. One was bleeding from a cut to the head, and the two others were sweaty and haggard. She guessed they too were harboring injuries, just ones she couldn't see, and did not wonder that they had been locked in combat with the red templars for too long. "We need to find the Lord Seeker," she said at last, "and we will need your help. As soon as this is done, we promise to find you aid."
They looked wearily from Cassandra to Ser Barris and Blackwall, but did not deny her.
"What other choice do we have?" the first one said. "It's that, or die at their hands. We'll go with you."
Ser Barris nodded and led the way. "Come; we must also find the Herald."
There were no objections to that, either.
Solas tensed as he heard the muffled sound of fighting from beyond the door, but relaxed a moment later when he realized it wasn't going to come to their side. He thought the barricade of chairs a little lacking, however, and reinforced it with crystalline ice.
Lady Josephine watched him with wary eyes but refused to fixate on anything else. What else was there to look at? Besides the Seeker tapestry, all the furniture was stacked up by the door, and there were two dead men – actually, one dead, one near death – lying on the floor. The place was the exact opposite of relaxing and gnawed bitterly away on the Inquisition ambassador's nerves.
"You can trust me," Solas said after a while, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm not going to freeze you over."
Lady Josephine jolted. "I wasn't thinking that," she protested. "I was merely trying to distract myself."
"Hmm." Solas stood back to admire his handiwork. "It would seem that violence does not suit you."
"Of course it doesn't; I am a diplomat, remember?"
"Yes, of course..." Solas turned back around and sat by Knight-Captain Denam's head again. Josephine decided to stand, not wishing to share space with anyone who might not be living any longer in the next minute. The Knight-Captain's breathing seemed steady, however, after the elven mage gave him that healing draught.
How the day had changed! If she had known it would be anything like this, she would have sent a refusal in response to the Lord Seeker's letter. Then again, how often was it that military organizations threatened mutiny on themselves and their guests in the middle of a great capital city? If it was in some place like Therinfal Redoubt, for example, then maybe she could see the possibility of a trap like this. But in Val Royeaux? Either the Lord Seeker was now a madman, or a wildly daring tactician.
"What do you think the Lord Seeker really wanted to do with Lady Ahnnie?" she asked after a while, unnerved by the silence.
Solas looked up at her with a grim expression. "My lady, if it is anything like we've seen today, my guess is that his aim was to kill her."
Her breath caught. "No! No, that can't–"
"We cannot be sure," Solas interrupted her. "I have been thinking it over, and there might be a way to confirm if–"
"What is that way?" she cut in. "You must use it! You must not let her die!"
He paused again. "May I finish?"
Josephine blinked. "I apologize..."
"There might be a way to confirm if the deed has been done," he continued. "As we all know, Lady Ahnnie is not the best fighter. If the Lord Seeker were to turn on her, it would only be a matter of minutes before she is slain."
Josephine pursed her lips, having no choice but to accept what he said as true. And if she is slain, so will be the Inquisition's aims – for without the Herald, how could they stop the Breach as promised? Oh Josephine, how could you be so foolish?
"It will require absolute silence," Solas said. "You need not worry for your own safety – this should take but a few minutes, and I've ensured that the door is properly barricaded."
"Do what you must," she nodded, sinking down to her knees across from him. "I will watch over the Knight-Captain for you."
Solas nodded. "Very well." And then he closed his eyes...
"I miss Ba," Tiên sniffled.
"Shh, you don't want them to hear you," Ahnnie shushed; normally, she would have reprimanded her sister for having such thoughts. After all, the only one who cared was their mother; right? But today, she was sensitive to her sister's feelings. And she knew what would happen should those feelings become public knowledge.
Their mother and stepfather strode proudly into the room a moment later. Ahnnie perked up, putting on a smile, but Tiên's face was still downcast.
"Finally! I knew I would win," their mother beamed.
"Of course; you're the better parent," their stepfather added.
"Now you don't have to see him anymore," their mother smiled back – a wide, full-toothed smile, full of rewards and promises.
Their brother, now five, came up to them, looking beseechingly into their faces. "You're not going away anymore," he said, "because he can't take you away; that's good, right?" Then he noticed Tiên. "Chị Tiên? Is something wrong?"
Almost immediately, their mother zeroed in on the moping girl. "Are you upset about something?" she asked. "Did that man say something to you?" She knelt down to face Tiên, and the little girl stiffened. "Tell me – did he say anything that bothered you?"
Tiên shook her head. "He didn't."
"Then why are you crying?"
Ahnnie's face blanched, as well as their little brother's. "Bình, come here," she gestured quietly to the little boy, and he scampered over in obedience. She rose from the chair, aiming to exit the room with him, to leave Tiên alone to the impending wrath like the coward she was–
"I miss Ba," Tiên whimpered again.
It was like a volcano erupted. One moment, their mother was all sweets and smiles; the next, she was a raging bull, an angry banshee – she was everything that terrified them in that moment, but she was not their mother.
"Why would you miss him!? I've done everything for you! How could you be so ungrateful!? What more can you want from me now!?"
Tiên sobbed. "I won't see Ba anymore! I won't get to see Khang and Phương!"
"You don't need them!" their mother shrieked. "You have me, you have your sister and brother!"
Young Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip, and Bình covered his ears. The stepfather herded them out of the doorway and into a separate room. Before he closed the door, though, they could hear the enraged woman scream, "You're no daughter of mine, if you still care for that bastard!"
Bình started to cry, and Ahnnie hugged him close. "Shh, it's okay," she coaxed. "It'll be over soon..."
"How could your sister be so selfish?" the stepfather asked a moment later, putting on distraught airs once again. "It's already been done! She's already chosen! Don't you agree?"
Ahnnie pursed her lips, but nodded anyway.
"Come here," her stepfather then demanded.
She blinked. "But–"
"Come here." His voice was stern.
Reluctantly, she released her arms from her younger brother, and came up to the man. "Yes?"
He drew her into his lap and cradled her with his arms. She stiffened; something was different about this hug. Something that she wasn't sure would be good, for some reason. "Bình, go play with your legos," he told the little boy.
With a naive sniff, Bình went off to do as he was told, occupied a moment later with the little lego toys on the floor.
"Um...what's going on?" Ahnnie asked, feeling his hot breath course down her neck.
He gave his answer a moment later with a shove of his hand down her body. Before she could protest, he whispered into her ear. "You chose this, remember? And now, there's no going back..."
"No!" Ahnnie screamed, struggling with all her might against Envy's illusion. "Let me go! You can't make me–"
"Tsk, tsk, tsk," Envy tutted. "That wasn't what you said."
Ahnnie coughed as she found herself once again deposited in darkness. A sickening feeling swirled in her stomach as she felt the vivacity of the illusion – Envy practically forced her to relive it, to feel and see everything just as she had on that day. I can't do this anymore, she thought, on the verge of sobbing. No more, I can't...
"So soon? But there's more!"
A door creaked open ahead of her and she looked up to see a bedroom bathed in moonlight. She gasped when she saw it and closed her eyes, refusing to look at what went on inside – a moment later, she shut her ears, refusing to listen to the tinny sound of her own whimpering echoing from the door. But regardless of how she tried to shield herself, she could feel the intrusions on her own person. The humiliation, the pain, the degradation...
"What a twist of irony, that he should wait until you were old enough," Envy mused.
He was a cunning bastard, Ahnnie remembered. He did everything else and purposefully waited until I was eighteen for that to push the fact that I was 'consenting'. She squinted her eyes tighter. I hate him so much...
The darkness dissipated around her to become yet again another living room, but this time of their present house. Another explosive argument was erupting between Tiên and their mother again, albeit this time, things were turning more against the stepfather's favor.
"If you actually loved us, you would have left that asshole a long time ago!" Tiên yelled. She was now eighteen, rebellious and frustrated. "He's a jerk and a bully, even to his own kid!"
Thirteen-year-old Bình sat quietly on the sofa, staring down at the rug beneath the coffee table. Ahnnie herself stood subdued by the piano, frowning angrily at the hardwood below.
I remember this, she thought as she watched herself, and then her sister and her mother. This was when I thought of telling Mom about what he was doing to me...
"What would you have me do, huh?" their mother shot back. "I'm up to my neck in paperwork and debts, trying to keep you all afloat! Haven't I taught you how to defend yourselves? Save me some of that trouble!"
"Save you? Oh, save you that trouble?" Tiên shook her head, her glance incredulous. "Listen to yourself. That's not a mother talking. That's a–"
"I command you, with the power the spirits have given me!"
"Oh my god, do you even hear yourself? You sound like a lunatic!"
"I am their chosen god!" she shouted.
"You failed to protect us! You married this jerk because he said he was some rich dude back in Vietnam, and then you just let him leech onto us like a parasite!"
"That's not true!" Her mother's face was getting redder.
"Yes, it is," Tiên shot back. "Don't lie, okay? After you married him, everything's been going downhill. We've been poor, we've been living off of debts, you've been crazy, and at times we live like kings, because you've been committing fraud against a whole bunch of people."
The mother's eyes narrowed at her youngest daughter, the implication palpable in the air. "Fine," she barked at last. "Since you want him out so badly, I'll do it – I'll kick him out–"
Bình pursed his lips and shot up off the couch. Ahnnie watched herself tense, then follow him, stopping near him at a spot by the staircase.
"You okay?" she asked him gently.
He shook his head, trying his best to stifle the oncoming tears. "I don't want him to go," the boy ground out. "He's my dad, and I still love him."
She remembered her heart sinking at this response. Of course he loves him, she had thought. He's the only other parental figure Bình's ever known. If he goes now, Bình will be devastated. She remembered thinking about her brother's performance in school and the stress of family pressures added onto academic ones. "I'll talk to Mom," she then said. "I'll do my best to convince her to keep him, and Tiên as well, I guess..."
"Will you?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "Mom listens to me, remember?"
Because I'm the good kid, Ahnnie thought disdainfully. Because I'm obedient and nice and gentle...
A cold hand suddenly clasped around hers. She whirled around in alarm. "Cole!" she cried, and impulsively hugged him.
He gave a start, but pat her on the back anyway.
"Where were you?" she demanded once she withdrew from him.
"Trying to find you," he replied, much to Envy's chagrin.
"As if you can do anything to help," the demon spat.
Cole frowned beneath his hat and pulled on Ahnnie's hand. "This way," he said, his voice urgent. "You can't stay in this place any longer–"
"You can say that again!" she agreed, and followed his lead. They disappeared through an open coat closet, but Envy wasn't finished with them.
"You have not escaped yet! I will know you!"
"Don't listen to it," Cole warned her. "It does it to–"
But Ahnnie gasped as the white tile floor beneath them became awash with blood. Cole noticed it as well and paused before he could step into it. Ahnnie froze, as if suddenly paralyzed; then she slowly looked up, following a pathetic weeping sound up to a bloody girl crying by the toilet, holding up a small fleshy object in her palms.
And of course, that girl was her. The memory came flooding back through her consciousness like an unwanted assault; nineteen years old, just past the cusp of adulthood, suffering a miscarriage fathered by none other than–
Envy chuckled. "Did I not tell you? And now if I – or rather, you – remember correctly...this took place not longer than several moons before you crossed worlds."
She shook her head. No, I don't want to think about it. I don't, I don't, I don't...
"No matter how you try to deny it, it happened," Envy said. "Oh, and watch the next part. You throw the fetus into the toilet–"
"He!" Ahnnie shouted. "It was a 'he'!"
Envy sounded amused. "And how did you know that?"
Ahnnie let go of Cole's hand and sank to her knees. "I just did. The whole entire time, up until I aborted..."
"Weren't you relieved?"
She peered into the phantom of her weeping visage, marveling absentmindedly at how strange it was to see herself from another point of view. "Yes," she admitted, "and no..."
"Broken and empty, devoid of all meaning," Cole intoned from behind her. "A loss that no one knows, that no one can know of. It must be endured, hidden." She let it pass this time.
The weeping Ahnnie froze and the scene around them dimmed. "What a poor, pathetic creature...don't worry. I will make you great."
Ahnnie looked up, suddenly aware of a gentle caressing on her cheek. It came from Maxwell Trevelyan, standing just above the bloody girl and fetus.
"It need not be this way. You don't have to resist; why be so foolish? Spare yourself the pain..."
Cole snapped back to awareness. "No, don't listen to what it says–"
"Do you want to live like that? Do you want to continue being someone's slave, sacrificing your own life for another's selfish whims?"
Somehow, Envy struck a chord within her. "No," she replied, "no I don't..."
"Of course you don't," Maxwell smiled. "You desire greatness. I can give you greatness. With my power, you can rule as you've never done before; stomp on those who would see you trodden!"
And somehow, that seemed satisfying.
Cole tried to tug on her, but she wouldn't budge. "Don't give in, don't listen–"
"Silence!" Maxwell roared, lunging at Cole. The young man gasped as his collar was grabbed. "You're nothing but a dissenting voice, flailing against the darkness, the inevitable!"
"Dark and desperate, death to make yourself alive," Cole ground out, responding to riddles with yet more riddles. "I used to be like you. I'm not anymore. You shouldn't be, either."
But it wasn't that that finally broke Ahnnie out of her trance. It was a ringing voice she'd grown to know; the voice of a friend, a mentor, an elder.
"Ahnnie!" it cried out, and she whirled around to find its source.
Her eyes widened with joy. "Solas!"
A/N:
Có phải không? - Isn't that right?
Nói đi! - Say it!
Con đừng có giấu gì hết nhe - Don't you dare hide anything (using the pronouns of an adult speaking to a child)
Nín! - Quiet!
Chị Hai - Oldest sister
Chị - Older sister, in general
Mẹ - Mother
Đừng đi mà! - (But) Don't go!
If you're curious about pronunciations, I suggest you plug the words into Google Translate, which now has an accurate Vietnamese voice (for the northern accent, however, and Ahnnie is southern - please keep that in mind). I'm just too lazy to do it here, plus reading it only goes so far towards sounding like the actual thing :P. If you have to manually type in the words, I suggest turning on the input method (the little 'e' on the lower left) and choosing the word with the right marks as it comes up. Oh, and disregard whatever English translations that pop up. Those are NOT accurate at all.
And yes, I've taken great liberties with the companion's abilities. I got info on them from the DA wiki and just fleshed 'em out a little more here. I hope that's okay for y'all.