disclaimer type=standard
Anything you recognize is Bioware's. I dare say anything else belongs to them too.
/disclaimer
o_ooo000ooo_o
Kathryn paused her narration and swallowed a couple of times. "I'm thirsty," she announced, her damaged voice harsher than usual.
Cassandra nodded, realising that the elf would need some time to compose herself. "We can pause for a moment if you wish." She shook her head. "Even excommunication was not punishment enough," she growled softly, offering the short phrase in an attempt to worm her way further into the Warden's trust.
The reaction she received was completely unexpected.
"STOP SAYING THAT!" the Warden screamed at her in a voice raw with use and emotion.
Cassandra jerked back, startled at the abrupt change in volume. "What?"
"THEY WERE NOT PUNISHED!" the elf screamed, jumping to her feet and advancing on the Seeker. As the smaller woman's approach pushed the other back, she continued, "THEY WERE REWARDED!"
The sheer absurdity of the claim shocked the Seeker into speechlessness. "What? What are you talking about?"
Kathryn suddenly reached out and shoved Cassandra back. "You think the man who planned my capture was named Darren. And like a good little Chantry drone, you lapped up the story fed to you. I'm telling you flat out, it was Knight-Commander, later Knight-Divine, Darrian!" she spat.
A deep, yawning sensation opened under Cassandra. "That is impossible," she declared, suddenly not nearly as sure of that as she had been moments ago.
"And Knight-Commander, later Knight-Divine, Fenwick de Monfort."
The name of the second Knight-Divine who vanished from the Grand Cathedral struck Cassandra sharply. The yawning sensation deepened into an abyss.
"Knight-Captain Conchobar got promoted to Knight-Commander and sent to Nevarra. Knight-Captain Letholdus was promoted too, and sent to Gwaren."
Cassandra's control slipped, and she began trembling. Name after familiar name washed over her. Rulf of Ghislain, Christophe Rowntree, Walter deGrey, Clifton Forthwind, Tybalt Fitzroy, she recognised them all – name, rank and the location from which they had disappeared.
The Warden paused and theatrically tapped her chin. "Who else was there? Oh, yes. Carradoc de Lancet, he was the overzealous chap who tried thumping the answers out of me after I over-cooked Conchobar's divine sausage. Oh, and William; William One Leg I call him. Or Peggie – though that really pissed him off, as I recall. And there was one more, let me see, what was his name…"
Through a trembling jaw, Cassandra found her mouth forming the words, "Alexander. Alexander Pentaghast."
Kathryn clapped her hands together, as if in delight, though her expression put paid to that assumption. "Yes! That's right! Well done." She looked innocently at the Seeker. "Is there a problem?"
Pale and trembling, Cassandra managed to whisper, "The Vanished."
"The vanished what?" the Warden asked with her eyes wide with mock innocence calculated to be infuriatingly offensive.
"The Vanished!" Cassandra screamed, finally getting her voice under control. "The templars who disappeared!"
Kathryn pretended to be shocked and theatrically rocked backwards with a hand on her heart. But her eyes clearly expressed her enjoyment of the Seeker's loss of control. "Goodness, there are templars who disappeared?" She tapped at her chest, as though she had received some great shock, still pretending to be surprised. "How astonishing. When did this happen?"
The Seeker stared at the elf, the knowing, gloating expression causing her untold distress. "How?" she barked. "How do you know those names, Warden?" she demanded.
"I told you. They're the ones who-"
"No!" Cassandra screamed, no longer believing her own denials. Leaning close, she tried to convince herself more than the Warden. "No, the ones who abducted you were all excomm-," she shouted, unconsciously raising a fist.
With speed and strength Cassandra could scarcely believe possible, the Warden grabbed the front of the Seeker's armour and shoved her across the room with magically-enhanced strength. Her path crossed one of the chairs, taking her legs out from under her. Without her balance, she careered into the far wall, the back of her head colliding sharply with the stone.
Her vision flashed white and red, and bright spots of light swirled in front of her eyes. The pinpoints of dancing light were rather pretty.
Her breath exploded from her lungs as something struck her belly, just under the point of her sternum. Her armour protected her somewhat, but the blow had been hard. She tried to draw in a breath while instinctively moving her arms into a defensive position when something slammed against her nose.
Again, her head smacked back against the wall. Her right arm wouldn't move, so she tried protecting her face with her left. Something struck her hard on the neck and pressed her against the wall.
Her vision cleared. The Warden stood over her, one hand gripping her right wrist, the other arm pressed hard against her throat.
Cassandra's training took control. With her free hand, she reached out to grab hold of the mage's robes. She rolled her right wrist to break the grip.
As a tall human and expertly trained warrior, she had a distinct advantage over a slender elf. Cassandra was an expert swordswoman and more than competent in hand-to-hand combat, but dazed as she was her reaction times were somewhat slowed.
Unexpectedly, the Warden pulled back, spun and shoved the Seeker onto the floor, still holding her right arm in a grip like silverite. Unable to compensate for the abrupt change, Cassandra fell forward. Her right cheek smashed into the floor and was painfully shoved along the rough-hewn stone. White hot pain flooded her right shoulder as that arm was cruelly jerked around and up behind her back, hyper-extending the joint.
Nothing moved for a second.
Through a haze of pain, Cassandra gasped a breath through her aching throat.
"Never," a voice in her ear growled, dripping menace, "raise your fist to me. Ever. Do you understand?"
The Seeker opened her mouth to speak, but nothing emerged. She swallowed, hard and painful as the reflex was, and tried again. "…es," she wheezed.
"Good," Kathryn glowered, her lips still so close to Cassandra's ear that the Seeker could feel the breath rustle the hair near her ear. "I'd hate to have to kill you, just as we were getting on so well."
The sudden cessation of lateral pressure on her arm sent a spike of agony through Cassandra's shoulder as the joint returned to a more customary range. She quickly rolled over and backed away, setting herself for another attack.
The attack didn't come. The Warden stood in the centre of the cell, looking supremely unconcerned. "I think it's time to call it a day," she said evenly.
"What?" the Seeker wheezed. She swallowed to ease the pain in her throat.
"This interview is at an end," Kathryn repeated. "I think I've given you enough to think about for now."
Cassandra, her back pressed hard against the stone wall, wasn't sure if she was relieved or angry at the dismissal. "I still have questions," she said automatically, and then hated herself for flinching at the sudden glare she received.
"No doubt," Kathryn said with a soft snort. "See you tomorrow, Seeker."
The elf walked over to the door to the cell and rapped twice. The door opened, and she stepped through. Over her shoulder, she parted with, "Sleep well, Cassandra. We have a lot to talk about tomorrow." And with those words, the enigmatic mage was gone, leaving the angry, fearful, frustrated Seeker alone in her prison cell.
The two armed men outside Cassandra's cell's door saluted as the Warden exited. One, wearing sergeant's stripes, said, "Warden-Commander, the General left word that he wishes to speak with you. I am to escort you to him."
"Very well," Kathryn nodded, glancing back at the cell door. With a set of delicate gestures, she cast a spell targeted on the lock. She turned to the soldier who had not spoken. "Continue to guard this cell. You will be relieved shortly."
"Thank you, Warden-Commander."
"Come along, Sergeant." She turned on her heel and walked along the long, dreary corridor next to her escort. The penitent cells made up this one of the Grand Cathedral's vicinal buildings were all of a size and shape. Getting lost would be rather easy to do.
They exited the utilitarian building into the Grand Cathedral gardens. The path that led to the gigantic building was paved with white pebbles. The contrast between white stones and viridian foliage would have been vivid – even in the early evening twilight - had it not been for the light coating of ash. The air was still heavy with smoke.
"Did Francois say what he wanted?"
The soldier coughed. "Sorry, no, the General did not choose to confide in me."
Kathryn sighed. "I didn't really expect him to. What can you tell me about the situation out there?" she asked, gesturing off to the right, towards the smoldering remains of what had recently been the royal district of Val Royeaux.
"Some of the fires are still burning, but most have burned themselves out. The majority of the population has fled; having some dragons torch bits of the city was enough to convince almost all the civilians to take their chances elsewhere. Though there're a lot of looters tearing up what's left."
The Warden grunted. "Well, no one will miss them once the fun starts."
The soldier nodded and continued his report. "We've finished hauling out the ledgers and files from the Imperial Palace and have pulled back all our troops to the Cathedral, but we've not nearly enough numbers to hold it against a determined assault."
Kathryn gave a soft snort of laughter. "You're assuming that anyone would be interested in mounting an assault with me behind the walls."
The sergeant tilted his head in acknowledgement. "True. I can't imagine any of the local troops would volunteer, but we are holding both the Divine and the Empress hostage. It won't be long before someone at least tries to sneak in to rescue them."
Kathryn grinned at him. "You know, I'm rather counting on it."
Cassandra sighed deeply after the cell door closed. She raised a hand to her nose and cheek, wincing inwardly at the sharp pain. The skin on her cheekbone was scraped raw, and she was slowly oozing blood from one nostril. Gingerly, she took off her gauntlet and stuck two fingers inside her mouth, between teeth and cheek. They came out covered in blood and saliva.
"Damn it," she said aloud to the otherwise empty cell.
She looked around the small room. The desk had been shoved aside during the scuffle, knocking the ink pot over and spilling most of the ink within. She placed her gauntlet on the desk and gathered the put upright to save whatever liquid that remained.
She sat down on the cot and pulled off her remaining gauntlet, interlaced her fingers and dropped her chin onto her hands. The interview had gone poorly, by any measure. She had been able to influence, but not control, the direction of the exposition; an exposition that had revealed terrifying surprises.
The mystery of the Vanished had been revealed, and there had been a common link between the men after all. They composed the team that kidnapped and attempted to turn the hero of Ferelden into a broodmother. Despite desperately wanting to, Cassandra could not deny the claim. It made an evil sense. Did the Seekers who investigated the incident know?
Of course they did. They must have. It was inconceivable that they would be so incompetent as to not uncover the truth.
But the fact remained that the truth had been hidden. Presumably the Divine Beatrix herself had given the order. No one else had both the authority and desire to do so. The only other possible candidate would be the Lord Seeker, and given the historical tensions between the templars and the Seekers... No, it must have been Beatrix.
Cassandra hissed aloud in frustration. Her mission was a failure. Indeed, it appeared that it never stood a chance of success. All this time she had been proceeding under the assumption that those Maker-damned templars had been acting on their own volition. All this time, she had been working on the Warden thinking that those who wronged her had subsequently been punished severely for their actions. She had hoped that the Chantry's clear disassociation from their actions would work in her favour.
But there had not been a disassociation. There had been a cover up. Each man had been promoted. Each had been given commendations. That meant that even if the Divine Beatrix had not been involved in the planning, she had been pleased with the results.
But why proclaim that a group had been excommunicated at all? What was the point? The templars had never been given any public recognition.
With a deep sigh, Cassandra made the connection. Either Connor Guerrin or the Warden's man Pickering had escaped. Or both of them. Yes, that was more likely. Yes, given the frustrating elf's enigmatic insistence that Cassandra knew of them, it was almost certain that both had escaped the templar team sent to kill them. And while the Warden knew the names of the templars, her companions had not. So far from being a clean disappearance, the culprits had been identified by association.
Who had Connor and Pickering told? The Wardens at Soldier's Peak, certainly; that was a given. Had they told the Ferelden King? Perhaps, perhaps not. Tensions between Ferelden and the Chantry spiralled out of control in the weeks following the Warden's disappearance, to the point that there was talk of an Exalted March, but such talk stopped abruptly.
Cassandra had, to date, assumed that the seemingly inevitable military invasion had been derailed by the actions of the Warden after she had escaped the clutches of the darkspawn. But it was entirely possible that the Chantry's back down was due to threats of exposure by the Grey Wardens or Ferelden Crown.
And so twelve innocent men had been stripped of their rank and expelled from the Chantry for the sins of others, just to keep the secret that twelve guilty men had been praised for their actions and promoted.
It left a bitter taste in Cassandra's mouth. And a worse taste in her soul.
She picked up her gauntlets and fished around inside one. She pulled out a white scrap of cloth, and hung it out of the tiny window.
Message sent, she sat down on the cot and began to think.
General Francois looked up from the plans of the Cathedral. "Kathryn," he nodded. "Are you finished toying with that Seeker?"
The Warden shook her head. "Not yet. But she is nearly there."
The taciturn career soldier pursed his lips together in disapproval. "I barely have enough men to secure this Cathedral and its grounds, and there isn't any formal resistance in the city yet. I have numerous, far more important things you could be doing than trying to convince a Chantry loyalist to Join your Wardens."
Kathryn snorted with genuine amusement. "As hysterically funny as recruiting her would be, it is not and has never been my goal. Cassandra Pentaghast is Justinia's personal guardian; her Right Hand. And as such, she may well be the only person capable of uniting the Chantry's two military arms with the ecclesiastical."
Francois shook his head. "After everything they have done to you and Ferelden, you would give the priestesses here in the Cathedral that power? Why? The corruption here runs too deep. Even a relative moderate like the Divine Justinia could not fully separate the Chantry's goals from Orlais'. It would be better to let the whole institution collapse and let those who truly follow the teachings of Andraste to rebuild it."
Kathryn sighed. "I would agree wholeheartedly - and with great delight – in almost all other circumstances. But we do not have the time. This idiotic war between the mages and the templars has sapped the military strength from entire countries exactly when we could least afford it. I need the remaining templars. I need the remaining Seekers. Just as I need every damned Chevalier and Orlesian foot soldier. I need a sodding truce between the mages and Chantry, and I need it now."
Francois rubbed at his chin. "Isn't that what the Seeker claimed she wanted too? That's what she said when she surrendered herself at the gates."
Kathryn shook her head, her expression suddenly grave. "No. She envisaged a victory for the Chantry; she wanted a return to the status quo. Even if I thought it was a good idea, it was never going to happen. The war has gone on so long simply because mages are not going to allow themselves to be ruled again by those who hate and fear them."
General Francois frowned at the elf's answer. "'Wanted'? You use the past tense. Why? Have you managed to change her mind?"
The Warden smirked. "I told her some things that she wanted to hear, and some things that she needed to hear. Incidentally, she has been seeking an answer to a certain question for seven years, and I just dangled it in front of her and then left."
"I have no patience for such games, Kathryn."
She smiled at him, a warm, genuine expression. "I know, Francois. I know. But Cassandra Pentaghast has spent her life digging through lies to reveal truths. That is who she is. If I just gave her the answer she sought, she would have her doubts about its veracity. She would question my motives in revealing something so valuable for nothing in return. I have revealed some things she did not want to hear, and left her to her contemplation. With luck, she will retain her faith in the Maker, but develop a sense of caution and distrust with the Chantry."
The taciturn soldier looked taken aback. "And this is who you have chosen to unite the warring factions of the Chantry?"
Kathryn sighed. "Unfortunately, though it is repeated often, she is the only candidate."
This time Francois sighed. "Then perhaps you'd best go and talk with the Divine, rather than me."
Two figures dressed in dark grey clothing timed their infiltration to avoid the makeshift patrols along the walls of the Cathedral. Once over the outer stone wall, the pair darted under cover within the lush, verdant gardens.
There, they watched, and waited.
Kathryn nodded to the pair of soldiers guarding the opulent door. They returned the nod and reached out to open the door without announcement.
She strode through the portal with a cocky swagger. The room beyond was rich beyond the imagination of all but those raised amid such extravagance. While every furnishing had an obvious use, centuries of decadent wealth had turned even the humble hand basin into solid gold.
The rooms of the Divine were certainly luxurious.
The two women ensconced within the gilded prison cell looked shocked at her unannounced entrance.
"Warden-Commander Kathryn Surana, I presume?" the older of the pair offered after a few moments.
The elf mage nodded casually to the Divine as she strode into the opulent room, deliberately foregoing courtesy and formality. "That's me. I'm also the Arlessa of Amaranthine, the Bann of Port Griffin and Mage-Royal of Ferelden. Don't bother genuflecting; I can't stand all that rot."
Justinia V diplomatically let the disrespect pass without comment. "I confess that I am somewhat surprised at your appearance. Despite Leliana's descriptions, I still expected you to be ten feet tall."
Kathryn stopped, and looked over at the priestess. A smile bloomed on her face. "And shoot lightning from my eyes?" she asked with a snort.
The Divine, her features still holding traces of the beauty of youth, tilted her head. "Indeed. I take it that you cannot? Shoot lightning from your eyes, that is?"
The elf smiled; her eyes unfocused as she looked at a memory. "No. I once told someone who made that exact observation that, as organs, eyes are ill-equipped to channel the power necessary."
The other woman in the room, petting an aristocratic-looking feline, huffed with indignation. Kathryn glanced in her direction, noting that when bereft of her elaborate makeup and immaculately styled hair, the Empress of Orlais was a rather plain woman in her mid-thirties. The bone structure hinted at generations of beautiful women in her ancestry, but two and a half decades of wearing heavy cosmetics had left her skin pocked and tired. The Warden dismissed her without so much as a sniff.
With well-practiced grace, Justinia shifted and gestured to include the petulant woman into the conversation. "May I present Her Imperial Majesty, Cel-"
"We've met. I'm still half deaf from all the screaming she did at me the whole time I was dragging her sorry arse here. She informed over and over again that I couldn't do this to her – a statement which was factually incorrect as it turned out. She also went on about who she was and how much trouble I was in. Ferociously boring stuff."
"Well," the Divine began diplomatically.
"Got any wine?" Kathryn interrupted, moving over to the gold-inlaid mahogany sideboard. "I'm parched."
The Empress raised her chin in a practiced action. "I see that even away from the battlefield you are just as uncivilized as one can expect from a Ferelden barbarian."
"Said the woman who killed the last Emperor and usurped his throne from the rightful heir," the mage replied easily as she rooted through the dusty bottles on the exquisitely carved and inlaid rack. "Regicide is still considered uncivilized, isn't it?"
The Empress' eyes blazed with fury, and her strokes of the cat's fur became rather less delicate. "Such a claim is treason here in Orlais!" she spat.
"So you put people to death who dare to speak the truth. Yet you call me barbaric." The elf gave the woman a superior smirk. "If that's what you think is civilization, you can keep it. You know Dot, all this wine is rather pedestrian. I expected better."
Justinia frowned, trying to ignore Celene's unhelpfully antagonistic attitude and the elf's infuriating use of her childhood nickname. "I am afraid I have never developed a particularly refined palate. But those vintages are donations from the great vineyards of Orlais."
"Exactly. As I said, pedestrian," the Warden replied absently, noodling around the bottles; wiping the dust from some. "There's nothing here of any real variety. It's all the same stuff; they're all full, rich and complex. You know, there is a Seheron vineyard run by a Qunari that we import from. He's closer to eight feet tall than seven, yet he makes a wine so delicate it would reduce these bottles to tears." She rose and looked around the room. "Actually, there is something I'd love to try. Where would you keep it? Ah, yes, there." She moved over to a cabinet emblazoned with a carved and jeweled-encrusted relief of a rising sun.
The Divine rose to her feet, alarmed at the direction of the elf's attention. "That is not a…" she began as the Warden shredded the lock and ripped the doors away with only a wave of a hand and a whisper of magic.
"Oh, now this is nice!" She extracted a pair of purple, wax-sealed bottles with a cry of delight. The Divine paled.
"Those are irreplaceable! The grapes come from the vineyard planted on the grounds where the first Divine prayed to the Maker! That wine is used in the ceremony commemorating the transition from one age to the next!" she keened. "They are not to be opened for another sixty years!"
The elf grinned at the distressed woman. "So, quite apt then, given that the age of the Chantry is ending. Right, do you mind if I use your desk for a moment. I have to write a note."
Justinia watched helplessly as the mage plonked herself gracelessly down on her exquisitely comfortable chair, put the bottles on the desk, pulled out a sheet of her most luxurious vellum, and began scratching out a short note.
"Have you finished your theatrics?" Celene demanded, adjusting the cat on her lap. "Should you insist on treating us this way, I shall be less inclined to accept your surrender."
"Funny woman," Kathryn replied absently as she signed the note with a flourish.
Celene's expression grew even harder. "I do not know what you hope to accomplish, but by holding the two most powerful people in Thedas hostage will do nothing other than unite every force against you!" she proclaimed, her voice rising to end with a note of victory.
The mage blotted the ink and folded the sheet. "I'm counting on it," she replied just as absently as before, her attention still on the note. She sealed the folded vellum with a stick of pure white wax, and then scratched a single word on the outside of the sheet.
Justinia blinked at the unexpected response. "It is not your intention to ransom us?"
Vividly green eyes turned to face her, expressing nothing but mild curiosity. "What would be the point of that?" She rose and grabbed a solid gold tray from the window ledge that held a stack of incense. A single stick sat upright in a silver cup of pure white sand, a coil of white smoke wafting towards the ceiling.
Celene scoffed at the notion that ransom was not the Warden's plan, but Justinia frowned. "Traditionally, it is a tactic used to force a change of behaviour. I had assumed that your insistence on capturing Her Majesty alive was to use us to force an end to the Exalted March on Ferelden."
The Warden snorted. "That might make sense if Alistair was having any difficulty whatsoever keeping your forces out of Ferelden," She said, tossing the incense. She positioned the two bottles on the tray.
Celene ignored the elf's actions, simply giving her a superior smirk. She held her pet up and lightly bussed the cat's nose. "I think you are overestimating your country's ability."
A scarlet eyebrow rose at that. "Seriously? Do you actually read the reports your Chevaliers dispatch? You do realise that it's not technically an invasion if your troops can't actually hold any captured enemy ground, don't you? So far, every action to press into Ferelden territory has been pushed back across the Frostbacks. With rather high casualties on your side, I understand."
The Empress' expression displayed nothing but victory. "The Frostback Mountains are not the only way into Ferelden," she all but crowed.
"Oh. You mean that fleet that set sail from Val Royeaux two months ago," the Warden said absently with a short, dismissive nod. "Yeah, we sank that too."
"I hardly think your pathetic, so-called 'navy' capable of such," Celene sneered.
Kathryn gave an insouciant shrug. "That at least is very true." She picked up four crystal goblets from the wine cupboard and placed them on the golden tray next to the bottles. "Dragons on the other hand, are quite capable of such. I'm told it barely took one belch to take out each troop ship. The riders were delighted. The even had a bet going as to which of them could sink the most ships. Sigrun crowed about winning that for days," she finished with an amused expression and a shake of her head.
Celene's expression suddenly took on a somewhat brittle aspect.
"Didn't you know? You mean your commanders didn't wonder why the Ferelden army was still in place securing the border weeks after your fleet was due to land? What sort of idiots do you employ?"
The Divine drew herself up. "May we ask what your intention is, if not ransom?" she asked, imposing herself into the conversation more to give Celene a chance to calm and compose herself than any expectation of an answer.
Kathryn shrugged. She placed the note she'd written so that it was prominently displayed on the tray. "You touched on it already. It is the most expedient way to unite all the Andrastean armies together. I just hope they'll get here in time."
"In time for what?" Celene demanded, her face still flushed with anger.
The Warden gave her a sour look. "I thought you were supposed to be some sort of political genius. Why don't you think about it for a moment and then tell me?"
She carried the tray over to the door and kicked the intricately carved wood, leaving marks half a foot above the floor. A guard opened the door. "Yes, Commander?"
"Here," she said, handing him the tray. "Take this to the prisoner. Leave it outside her cell to one side of the door. Put the key to her cell on the tray, and then leave the cell unguarded. In fact, leave the entire penitent cell wing unguarded."
"Commander?" the guard blurted, surprise in his voice.
Kathryn nodded. In a voice used to command, she said, "Those are my orders. Carry them out."
"Er, yes Commander. At once."
The tray was taken, and the door closed once more.
"Now, where were we?"
"You wish to destroy my Empire," the Empress declared hotly.
With a deep sigh, Kathryn replied, "Not even close. Most Fereldans would agree, but your Empire's inevitable destruction is merely coincidental. Pleasant, to be sure; but coincidental nonetheless. And it is certainly not my goal."
"The Orlesian Empire shall last for eternity! Nothing could destroy it!"
The Warden stifled a yawn. "Bullshit, it was only a year ago that you were in the middle of a civil war. Your Empire was all but falling apart at the seams. Most of Ferelden and Nevarra were cheering both sides on with unseemly glee. Me? My Wardens and I were busy preparing."
"Preparing for what?" Justinia interjected.
"The end of Thedas."
The simplicity of the statement briefly stunned both women into silence.
"Preposterous!" Celene exploded.
"What do you mean, Warden-Commander?" Justinia asked, throwing a warning glare at her companion.
"I'm not sure I can be any clearer."
The Divine narrowed her eyes shrewdly. "As entertaining as baiting us is for you, perhaps you could explain your answer."
Kathryn gave her a lop-sided grin. "You priests always want to ruin everyone's fun. Fine, I'll let up if your prodigy over there can tell you why I've acted as I have."
Celene snarled. "An Exalted March was called on your pathetic, barbarous country. That is the only reason that you would risk taking me hostage. And to claim otherwise is…"
The elf snorted. "Stop. Just stop. I'm not one of your subjects. I don't need to act all submissive and pretend to believe that everything that comes out of your mouth is divinely-inspired truth." She leaned forward and pointed at the Empress. "Your country was on the verge of splitting into bickering fiefdoms. That was a direct consequence of the political environment you foster. You constantly play one faction off against another, and that's fine, so long as you are both visibly and materially stronger than every other faction. But when your leadership shows weakness, others start thinking that they could do a better job, and the whole thing comes crashing down. You won your civil war, thanks to me, but the resentment ran deep."
Justinia's eyes widened at the absurd claim. Celene was far more vocal. "In what possible way could you claim to have assisted me?"
Kathryn looked casually at her fingernails. "What do you know about Château d'Roche?"
Justinia blinked. "The consortium of usurers? Excuse me, I mean the money-lender-house?"
The Warden waved a hand lazily. "I am familiar with the term. And yes, that's the institution to which I refer."
Celene shared a look with the Divine. "What would I know of some common financier?" the Empress asked with a dismissive tilt of her head.
The elf snorted. "Given that between you, you owe them something in the order of seventy-five thousand sovereigns, I expected that you'd know a bit more."
Justinia fought to breathe steadily. "What relevance do the financial matters of our relative interests have to this discussion?"
Kathryn sighed. "I suppose some history would be useful at this point. Ten years ago, Château d'Roche was a relatively profitable usurer owned by a consortium of wealthy Orlesian families – many of whom were privy to information regarding the planning of the invasion of Ferelden masterminded by the Knight-Divine Darrian. They positioned their financial interests so as to be incomparably well placed to take advantage of an occupied Ferelden. But when the invasion plans fell apart, their investments became worthless."
The Empress' expression did not so much as flicker.
The mage continued. "Some of them even pledged the same assets as security several times over to other lenders, meaning that they were dangerously overexposed. Despite their outrage and shrill demands that the Exalted March take place, Beatrix could not indulge them. Thus, they were left in very precarious financial straits. Precarious enough that when they were approached by an agent of a wealthy benefactor who offered to buy their positions they leapt at the chance."
The Divine interrupted her. "It was my understanding that Château d'Roche was still owned by Orlesian families."
The elf gave a shrug. "In name, perhaps. But the gold was coming in from a different source, and the profits were going out the same way."
Celene kept her expression neutral, though the muscles in her jaw rippled. "And the relevance?"
"To your situation? During your recent civil war, both sides sought funding through Château d'Roche." She grinned nastily. "Foreign gold paid for your war. My gold."
"You…" the Empress started, seemingly shocked into speechlessness.
The Warden nodded happily. "And then, when your army finally defeated Gaspard de Chalons' forces, my usurer suddenly owned the debts of a lot of attainted, penniless ex-nobles."
Justinia frowned. "Château d'Roche did not appear to have any financial difficulties after the war ended," she tentatively offered.
"Of course not. The conditions imposed by bailing out the original owners involved holding the deeds to the majority of their property. Would it surprise you to know that I am one of the largest land owners in Orlais?" Kathryn asked smugly.
"Why did Château d'Roche offer such favourable terms then?" Celene demanded. "The interest rates offered were much lower than other usurers."
The Warden grinned happily. "Because we insisted on paying your army's suppliers directly, rather than just hand the gold over."
Celene stiffened noticeably. Justinia glanced at her. "Celene? What is it?"
Kathryn waved a hand airily. "Oh, she probably just realised that by choosing my organisation for her financial needs, the pair of you were essentially handing over vital intelligence about troop numbers, strength, equipment quality and deployment. A bill of sale and delivery schedule for a hundred pikes let us know where a poorly trained and equipped unit of a hundred footmen was stationed. Alistair found all those invoices splendidly useful for planning out his defensive campaign."
Justinia fought to keep her expression from betraying the horror she felt. How had the naïve children of a backwards country such as Ferelden developed such stratagems?
"We are, however, getting quite far afield," the mage said, bringing her hands together. "You had just won your civil war, and were left with a weakened, bickering noble class. The easiest method to bring all the forces in your Empire together was to manufacture and point them at a common enemy." With one last smirk, she finished with, "But that hasn't worked out as well as you hoped, has it?"
The Empress drew herself up haughtily. "I have no influence over the declarations of anathema by the Chantry," she claimed.
Justinia nodded. "That is true. The decision to call the March was made by my council, and to my heavy heart."
Kathryn rolled her eyes. "Members of your council were entertained over at the Imperial Palace on several occasions where the details on how to manipulate you into making the declaration were discussed."
The Divine turned a questioning gaze upon the Empress, who assumed an expression of offended innocence. "Such transparent lies," Celene said, shaking her head mournfully.
Kathryn gave a short, soft laugh. "You think I'm making it up? That cat you're holding - where did you get him?"
The Divine frowned at the apparent non-sequitur. "I believe one of my Revered Mothers gifted it to Her Majesty. The markings in his fur make up the Imperial Family's coat of arms. Quite a remarkable coincidence."
The Empress turned the cat to show the Warden the almost perfect bisected shield pattern in the fur. "A truly imperial animal," she smirked.
Kathryn raised an eyebrow, and mirrored the smirk. "Aloysius? If you would?"
"Aloysius?" Justinia questioned. "His name is D…"
Both women screamed in alarm as the cat in question leapt off Celene's lap and shimmered. A squat, elderly hunchback in mage robes appeared in the animal's place. "Arlessa Kathryn," the mage greeted with a painful-looking bow, supported by his staff. "Am I to be relieved?"
The Warden shook her head. "No, your mission is complete. Thank you, Aloysius. Your work has been exemplary. Please go and prepare your final report. Francois will probably need you to deliver his own report to Alistair."
The ugly man nodded. "Thank you. With your leave?"
At the Warden's nod and leaning heavily on his staff, the deformed man moved over to the door and knocked. The guard opened the door and started at the unexpected person, but at the Warden's approval, allowed the mage to exit the room.
The Divine fought to bring her breathing back under control. The Empress however, looked to be on the verge of hyperventilating. "That… that was a mage?"
The Warden gave her a long, disbelieving stare. "I'm not sure what confusion of thought would prompt such a question."
Celene almost screamed, "What did that abomination do to my poor little Dacey?"
Kathryn rolled her eyes. "That was your poor little Dacey, woman. He's been listening in and reporting on your movements and actions for years now."
Horrified to her core at such an intimate infiltration, Justinia demanded, "How many…?" she stalled, unable to finish that horrible question.
"How many of Anora's Hands are there? No idea. I've met quite a few, and I've been obliged to assist several in the course of their missions, but I don't know how many of them there actually…"
"Non!" Justinia blurted, reverting to Orlesian in her haste. "How many other animals are spying on…" she paused, her eyes widening in realisation. "Oh no."
"Don't worry," the Warden assured her with an expression of wicked satisfaction at the Divine's discomfort. "Your pets are real animals."
Celene snapped her attention to the Warden. "Wait! Anora's Hands? What foolishness is this?"
"I'm sure you've heard of them."
"Of course I have heard of them," she snapped. "They were the subject of amused derision in my court. They were nothing but ignorant barbarians trying to play the Game. Such amusing conceit."
Kathryn grinned at her. "To start with, yes. Yes they were. But given you just met the one who has been listening in on every conversation you've had for the last six years, I find your conceit amusing too."
The Empress' expression darkened alarmingly.
With a shrug, the Warden turned her attention back to the Divine. "As we were saying, Celene here hosted several of the Revered Mothers who manipulated you into declaring an Exalted March on Ferelden. She wanted the warring factions of the Empire to unite against a common enemy, and you wanted to bring the templars and Seekers back under control. As military endeavours go, it has been a spectacular failure. But that has nothing to do with why I've invaded and taken Val Royeaux."
Justinia's eyes narrowed. "Even if I did believe your declaration, what other possible motive could you have?"
Kathryn shook her head. "Dear Maker, deliver me from fools unable to see past their own egos. What am I?" she demanded.
"I beg your pardon?"
"What. Am. I?" the mage repeated, as offensively sarcastic as she could.
Justinia glanced at Celene, who was still enraged. "A mage?' she ventured.
Once again, Kathryn looked at the ceiling. "Right. Someone talking about me always calls me 'The Mage'."
Justinia flushed with insight. "Oh! You are a Grey Warden!"
Said Warden gave the priest a slow clap. "Well done. 'The Warden'. That's what people call me. What does that tell you about my priorities?"
The Divine drew in a sharp breath. "No," she whispered. "There cannot be another Blight so soon!"
Kathryn nodded. "Very good. It's about time you showed some intelligence. And technically, you are correct. The darkspawn are not being led by an archdemon. They're being led by something so much worse."
"Preposterous!" the Empress exploded. "There are no darkspawn in Orlais!"
The Warden ignored her, keeping her gaze completely on the Divine.
Justinia swallowed. "Are the darkspawn coming here?"
With a nod, Kathryn replied, "Yes. The archdemon I faced was cunning, but not shrewd. The Hoard burst out in Ferelden, and just laid waste to it. The thing that leads it now knows that the best strategy is to shatter your enemies first. It marches its forces underground on Val Royeaux."
The Divine looked down at her hands. "Why did you not simply have the First Warden inform each nation of the danger?"
Kathryn winced. "He doesn't believe me. None of the other Wardens do. There has been no awakening archdemon, so their tainted song does not ring in our dreams." She clenched a fist. "Their idea of fighting the darkspawn is to train, patrol the Deep Roads near the surface, and wait for the next Blight." She shook her head. "Such a lack of vision."
Justinia tried hard to ignore Celene's expression. "If the normal signs are not there, how did you discover this threat?"
"I took some of my Wardens and descended into, and then beyond the Deep Roads; further than anyone has ever gone. We planned on destroying every broodmother we could, to take the fight to the darkspawn. Instead, we saw the power of the creature who leads the darkspawn. We felt the taint it bears. And we killed it."
That caused some confusion. "You... killed it?"
The Warden nodded. "Yes. Only, instead of staying dead, the sodding thing just moved to another body. Last time I saw it, it was walking around in the body of an ogre."
The Divine gasped. "It jumps bodies? Like the first archdemon?"
"Exactly! We have no idea how to kill it. Maybe it will take us another century to work it out. In any event, it marches on this city now. And all your sodding armies are off in the distance doing bugger all!"
There was silence for a time. Eventually, Justinia said, "And so you marched on Val Royeaux, taking the Empress and the Divine of the Chantry hostage. The Orlesian armies will try to save the Empress, joined by armies trying to rescue me."
Kathryn nodded somberly. "Yes. The darkspawn will be here first. Within days, I suspect. I need to keep them busy until they are surrounded."
"Why not simply let the darkspawn attack the city?" Justinia asked with no inflection.
"Your Perfection!" Celene gasped, aghast.
"Because," Kathryn overrode the Empress, "if Val Royeaux was overrun with darkspawn, every army would be ordered home to protect its own native soil. Weakened and divided, Thedas would fall. But… give all those armies a target they can face, a target that many would jump at the chance to face, and they'll come marching."
Justinia stared at the elf with a sudden, deep respect. "You intend to sacrifice yourself to give the armies time to get here."
The only response was a nod.
"Your life, your legacy, everything. Just to give us a chance to contain and defeat this army?
Another nod.
"Why?"
Kathryn frowned, as though the answer should have been obvious. "Because I am a Grey Warden. And Grey Wardens fight darkspawn. By any means necessary."
"But surely that means any weapon at your disposal?"
"No. I understand what that phrase means, above and beyond the lip service Weisshaupt pay it. Do you get it now? Do you get what I am sacrificing? I'm an elf, so even if the darkspawn are defeated, elves will probably be blamed for luring the armies here. I'm a mage, so even if the darkspawn are defeated, mages will probably be blamed for all the deaths caused. I am a native Fereldan, so no doubt they'll be held responsible too. By my actions, I am condemning generations of people as yet unborn to a lifetime of vilification, just to fight the darkspawn. Now do you understand?"
"You have two dragons out there!" Celene blurted, gesturing wildly at the window behind a shimmering barrier spell. "Not to mention your own power. What mindless hoard could prove a match for that?"
"It's not a mindless hoard," Kathryn shouted back at her. "The tainted thing that leads them is a mage so powerful that not even I can stand against it. It speaks, and the darkspawn obey. It thinks, and the darkspawn move to its will. The oncoming hoard is probably of a size as the one that invaded Ferelden, but that doesn't matter. This is not a mass of monsters rushing into a wall of arrows, with twenty falling for every one of our soldiers. This is an army, with units, tactics and strategy. It doesn't need supplies. It doesn't need morale. Any female caught by them live in unspeakable horror strengthening them, spawning able-bodied warriors after little more than a month."
"Non," Celene said, shaking her head. "It cannot be true."
"It is," the Warden said wearily. "And the truly worrying thing is that with no idea how to kill the general, all we may have to look forward to is a perpetual Blight."
Justinia found herself trembling. "This is all true. This is all really happening."
"It is."
She dropped her face into her hands. "Why has the Maker forsaken us?"
Kathryn sighed. "He hasn't."
Celene blinked at the calm surety in those two words. "How do you know?"
"Because even in the midst of the darkness, possibly the one single person capable of uniting every army in Thedas just walked in through the gates this morning and surrendered to me."
Empress and Divine shared a glance, both mentally running through an internal checklist of potential candidates.
Celene shook her head. "To whom do you refer?"
"Cassandra Pentaghast."
Justinia almost gasped. "Cassandra surrendered?"
The Warden grinned, and gave an honest chuckle. "Oh yes. Of course, she had every intention of escaping at the first opportunity."
"Had?" the Divine asked? "Is it she held in the cell you ordered unguarded?"
"Indeed. I no longer need to guard her. There are few stronger chains than those we make ourselves. I offered the answer to a question she has sought for years now. Until I give it to her, she will willingly stay as my guest."
"What answer? What question, for that matter?" Justinia asked.
"It is not relevant. But the Seekers will follow her. The templars will too, if you order it. Especially now that both orders are leaderless. With the backing of the Divine, she could act as the general of all Chantry forces. And as the Hero of Orlais, if Celene here gives her a commission, she could lead the Orlesian armies too. As a member of the Nevarran royal house, they and the Free Marches would follow her. The Anderfels would defer to the Grey Wardens, who in turn would happily work with someone capable of controlling all those troops. Antivan and Rivaini military is weighted more towards naval forces, and since the darkspawn don't swim, they'd be useful in a supporting role, and wouldn't need to directly report to her."
"And Ferelden? And your Wardens? What of them?"
Kathryn shrugged. "Francois knows of my plans. He would defer to her on my order. As would Alistair. As would little Endrin for that matter. I never thought I'd wish that Bhelen was still around. Anyway, several thousand dwarf warriors would be very helpful at present." She suddenly looked up and a smile blossomed on her face. "Ah. They're here. I have to go. Excuse me."
"Who's here?" the Divine asked as the Warden rose.
"The rescue party. They just broke the ward I set inside the lock."
Celene's expression grew focused as the elf rose and almost danced on her way to the door. "Why did you order the key to her cell placed on that tray then?"
"Because I dare say that a dear friend is, as we speak, trying to free her."
Justinia and Celene observed in silence as the Warden left. The holy woman turned to the Empress and observed her closely. "You do not believe her," she stated.
Celene swallowed. "I am not convinced, no. But, I am going to act as though I believe it."
"Oh? Why?"
Celene swallowed again, her voice on the verge of cracking. "Because if Anora's Hands exist and are active, then so may well Alistair's Fist be."
Justinia blinked. "The assassin ghost? But he's just a story! A rumour!"
"Perhaps," Celene offered. "But I thought the same of Anora's Hands." She turned to glare at the door. "And in the last few years, there have been a great many suspicious deaths among those in my court who advocated military action against Ferelden."
The pair watched and waited. The haphazard patrols made evading detection simple enough. Eventually, emboldened by their observations, they darted towards the outbuilding containing the penitent cells.
They found no guards, against their expectations.
"Forgive me, but I always assumed that skulking and skullduggery involved a somewhat higher risk of discovery," the male offered his companion in a soft, light-hearted whisper.
"Shush, Galen," the red-haired woman replied just as softly, her senses alert for danger.
Slowly, not quite believing their luck, the pair moved down the dark, silent hall. The only light in the corridor came from under the crack of one of the cell doors, towards the end of the corridor.
"This is not right."
"Perhaps the Fereldans do not have the manpower to guard a prisoner? Even so, I would have thought that Commander Kathryn would have placed a barrier over the doorway," the man called Gaylen whispered.
"Yes. Why would she not? Is this a trap?"
Gaylen swallowed. "Leliana, my nerves are as tight as lute strings. Please don't make this dreadful business any worse."
Leliana reached out and gently touched his shoulder. In the dark, he did not see the movement, and leapt a bit at the unexpected contact.
"Can you make us some light? As faint as you can."
Gaylen whispered a few words, and a faint sprite appeared in his palm. In the oppressive darkness, the light from the conjuration spread quite a distance down the corridor. There was a guard's stool next to the occupied cell's door, but instead of a guard, a tray with some bottles and glasses rested upon the seat.
Leliana shook her head. "No traps. No guards. This is too easy."
"There is light within that cell. Perhaps we should knock?"
"No. There might be a guard within with Cassandra. We need to try and surprise them. Come; hold your light up near the door."
Leliana dropped to one knee and withdrew a set of lock-picks from her belt. As she examined the lock, Gaylen looked over at the tray on the stool. Frowning slightly, he leaned closer.
"Leliana?"
"Hush, Gaylen, I'm concentrating."
Gaylen gingerly picked up the note prominently propped up against the glasses on the tray. "You need to look at this," he insisted.
"Not now, Gaylen," she whispered back. "Hold you light closer please, doing this blind is very difficult."
Gaylen swallowed, and picked up another object from the tray. "Here. Perhaps this will help," he said, passing it to her.
With a frustrated expression, Leliana turned away from the lock to stare at the key in his hand. "What? Where was that?"
"On the tray here, with this note. Addressed to you."
Leliana glanced from the key to the folded vellum sheet. She gingerly took the note and read her name on the front. "It is Kathryn's handwriting," she confirmed.
Gaylen swallowed, looking very nervous. "Does that mean she wants us to free Cassandra? Or that she intends to spring a trap and capture us too?"
Leliana did not answer. She turned the note over and broke the seal. "Hold your light steady please," she whispered.
The note was short. Just one sentence. Leliana's shoulders slumped.
"What is it?" Gaylen asked, his voice on the verge of panic.
"Here," she said, passing the note to him. She turned to look at the tray. Two bottles of wine and four glasses.
"'I have left four glasses because I wasn't sure if Regaylen would be joining us – regards, Kathryn'," the mage softly read out aloud. Even in a whisper, his voice wavered. "Leliana, she knows we're here!"
Leliana shook her head. "Not necessarily. This only means she expected me to try and free Cassandra, and that she wasn't sure if you would be assisting." She made a face and gave a frustrated sigh. "Ooooo! That note is so very… so very… Kathryn."
"But-"
"No, Galen. Kathryn is dangerous, and she is capable of tremendous violence, but she isn't needlessly cruel."
"You last saw her ten years ago," he pointed out. "People change."
"Please, just trust me." She gently inserted the key into the lock and turned.
The lock clanked noisily, echoing in the long dark chamber.
Carefully, Leliana pulled the cell door open and looked inside.
Cassandra was alone within, sitting at a tiny desk. A single lit candle was the only source of illumination. She had a quill in hand and looked to be in the middle of writing out copious notes, though she was looking at the open door with no surprise evident on her face at all. "Any trouble?" she asked flatly.
Leliana shook her head. "No. None at all. It appears that Kathryn has allowed us to free you." She looked closely at her fellow Seeker. "Cassandra! Your face; were you assaulted?"
Cassandra touched her tender cheek, but shook her head and gave a soft sigh of frustration. "It is nothing. And I- I cannot go."
"What?" Gaylen blurted, pushing past Leliana. "Cassandra, we must go! You surrendered to get access to the Warden, and now it's time we left!" he declared while his hands weaved in an intricate dance. Blue light glittered around the injured Seeker's wounds, washing the blemishes away.
Cassandra sighed, smiled with gratitude, and began leafing through the pages of notes she had made. "She knows, Leliana. Kathryn Surana knows what happened to the Vanished."
Leliana stiffened. "The Vanished? How is that possible?"
"I have a suspicion," she ground out through a tight expression.
"The Vanished what?" Gaylen asked, bewilderment in his voice.
"It is a secret, Gaylen," Leliana replied.
"Twelve templars all disappeared from different parts of Thedas on the same night, seven years ago," Cassandra told him flatly.
"Cassandra!" Leliana gasped.
"Look around you!" Cassandra snapped at her. "Who are we protecting by keeping the secret? The Chantry is shattered. The Maker has turned his back upon it. The Chant of Light is corrupted. The wrong priests rise to power and play at politics instead of following the teachings of Andraste. The secret of the Vanished was that the Chantry was complicit in an unspeakable horror."
Leliana held a hand up to her mouth, her expression horrified. "What has happened to you?" she asked softly.
Cassandra shook her head and closed her eyes. "The Warden's story… it is awful. It wasn't the excommunicated templars who chose to turn her into a broodmother – it was a Revered Mother and a Grand Cleric of the Chantry who ordered it. The Divine herself promoted the templars who undertook the mission."
"But they were all excommunicated."
"No," Cassandra snapped. "No, they weren't. They were rewarded - promoted and sent to different Circles and Cathedrals across Thedas. Twelve innocent templars were excommunicated in their place, merely to keep their identities and the Divine's complicity a secret. And then all the guilty templars Vanished."
Leliana's jaw dropped. "How can you be sure?"
"Kathryn knows things that she should not; that she could not. Not unless her story is true. And she knows what happened to Alexander."
Leliana's eyes widened. "She does?"
"She does," said a voice from the door.
Gaylen gave a whimper of shock and spun around, his hands up and ready to cast. Leliana spun with rather more grace, her hands slipping to the hilts of her long daggers.
Kathryn stood in the doorway, quite unconcerned, holding the golden tray with the two bottles and four crystal goblets. With a nod, she said, "It's nice to see you again, Leliana."
The red-head swallowed nervously and rose from her crouch, slowly removing her hands from her daggers. "You too, my friend."
"And you must be Regaylen," the elf continued, letting her gaze drift over to the nervous mage. "Welcome. Please, take a seat. Wine?"
"Why are you doing this, Kathryn?" Leliana asked, her melodic voice tinged with regret.
Kathryn walked into the now crowded cell and placed the tray on the desk. "I have done many things recently. Nearly all of them I found distasteful. Are you referring to anything in particular?" She crooked her finger and lights sprang up around the room. Leliana and Gaylen blinked at the sudden illumination.
"Assaulting Val Royeaux, abducting the Empress, imprisoning the Divine, all of it!"
Kathryn nodded, her expression genuinely mournful. "Yes, dreadful business. Necessary, but dreadful, nonetheless." She broke the wax seal and poured the sparkling liquid into the glasses, the stream sparkling in the candlelight. "Here. Try this, I got it from the Divine's private stash. Sit down, and I'll explain."
Cassandra watched as the tiny woman picked up two glasses and held them out, first to Gaylen, and then Leliana. Both accepted the offering with confused caution. Cassandra simply reached out and grabbed one of the remaining goblets and raised it to her lips. With a smile and a nod, Kathryn followed suit.
Gaylen and Leliana shared a look, but both took a sip. "Oh, this is delightful!" Leliana blurted, her eyes alight. "What is it?" She took another sip.
"It's the wine the Divine uses in the ceremony to mark the transition between the ages."
Gaylen's eyes bulged, and he spat the wine back into the glass. Leliana didn't manage to be quite so discreet, her mouthful sprayed out all over the cell.
"It's not that bad," Kathryn chided them with amusement.
"We can't drink this!" Leliana exclaimed, holding her glass out as though she wished she had longer arms. "This wine is sacred!"
Kathryn shrugged. "Rare, certainly. Sacred? Hardly."
"But," Leliana started, before gaping at Cassandra, who had just downed the wine in one go.
"Enough," the Nevarran said, setting the empty glass down. "I wish to know what became of my cousin."
Kathryn raised her glass and took a sip. "Yes, I suppose you do. Well, he is alive, he is at Soldier's Peak, and he is one of my Grey Wardens."
Cassandra closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling a weight lift from her.
Leliana's expression looked a little wary. "Did you forbid Alexander from contacting his family?"
"Not directly," Kathryn replied with a smirk. "But he does not exactly have the opportunity to write."
Gaylen watched the byplay between the three women. "Er, may I ask a question?"
"By all means."
"If Cassandra's cousin Alexander is one of the, er, the Vanished templars, are the others at Soldier's Peak too?"
Kathryn nodded at him approvingly. "Excellent. And yes, they are. The nine still living, at any rate."
"Are they captives, or Grey Wardens too?" Leliana demanded.
"Both."
Cassandra felt her arms pucker with gooseflesh. Seven years as a captive of someone they tormented so horrifically – it didn't bear thinking about. "Are they all Grey Wardens?" she asked, seeking clarification of the vague answer.
"Yes."
Leliana bit her lower lip in thought. "You would always turn your enemies into your allies, given the chance," she said. "But if they cannot leave, or even write to their families, how are they of any use to you? Do you still not trust them?"
The smile that grew on Kathryn's face belied Leliana's earlier claim that she was not needlessly cruel. Leliana had seen such an expression only on those who took pleasure in the suffering of others. "Oh, they would cheerfully stab me in the back given half a chance, but they have proven their worth over and over. And will do so for years yet."
Cassandra and Gaylen frowned at the cryptic response, but Leliana suddenly gasped in horror. "No! Oh no, dear Maker, no! Please tell me that you did not!"
Kathryn smirked and nodded with satisfaction at her former companion's deduction. "I did. And they've been incredibly useful."
Gaylen was shocked at the tears in Leliana's eyes. "What? What is it?" he asked her, reaching out for her hand.
Leliana snatched her hand away and reached for her weapons. "How could you?" she demanded, her melodious voice hard.
The Warden sneered. "Because they deserved it!" she spat back.
"Deserved what?" Cassandra demanded, pushing herself between the two friends.
Leliana stared at Kathryn for a long moment before she sobbed, spun away and stormed over to the corner.
"Deserved what?" Cassandra demanded, louder.
Kathryn turned her unperturbed gaze upon her. "They deserved to be delivered to Avernus for him to continue his experiments."
o_ooo000ooo_o
AN: Thanks to my reviewers, Robbie the Phoenix, Nightbrainzz, MB18932, torroar(x7!), NPC200, Aeonir, RakeeshJ4, Forget Logic. Punch Stuff, demonman21, AllisterH, ThorShared, Zanros, Eucharion, Nate88, Pintsizedpsycho, Bhoddisatva, Isabeau of Greenlea, sizuka2, Ie-maru, SgtGinger, unanimously anonymous. mostly, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Mike3207, Jormund Elver, Acaila, Dragon Void, Sauurman, Fan, Quirky and a couple of guests.