Notes: Thank you so much for reading this story! The song inspiration is "Light of the Seven" from S6E10 of Game of Thrones. Yeah, I had to.
To my reviewer, yes, you will find out soon about Circle allies. There are three more chapters in Part II of this story, including this one. Part III is the war.
Chapter 58: Light of the Maker
The Seekers were set to depart for Val Royeaux by fast ship after a mere three days of rest in Kirkwall. Their chest of red lyrium was loaded onto their ship when Cassandra requested a moment alone with Caitlyn.
"It is not my place to criticize the Divine," she began, "but... I must admit, it did cross my mind that it was potentially dangerous to you and your allies if we found red lyrium in the Gallows. The Knight-Commander and her loyalists would know that their activities were not a secret to you, nor to the Divine. I... wish that the Divine had sent more Seekers who would remain behind and keep watch on them."
"Why didn't she?" Caitlyn asked bluntly. "If you know?"
Cassandra lowered her voice, though no one else was present. "You know the Divine's Left Hand. I am her Right Hand, the one who operates openly and without disguise. But there are very few in Seeker ranks whom she trusts without reservation, and the situation is getting worse. Lady Seeker Nicoline is about to step down, and tradition is that the retiring Lord or Lady Seeker chooses a successor. It would be seen as usurpation for the Divine to overrule the Lady Seeker's wish. But we in Her Perfection's inner circle believe that Nicoline means to appoint Lambert van Reeves. He, of course, was the Seeker who accompanied Trentwatch to Kirkwall last year."
"And backed him up," Caitlyn recalled, "and, apparently, came up with the idea that Trentwatch was in the throes of lyrium sickness when he said something too shocking and disgusting to defend."
Cassandra nodded. "Divine Justinia thinks that Seeker Lambert is too extreme in his views and has reservations as well because of that episode, but it would be a serious provocation for her to overrule the outgoing Lady Seeker."
A flash of annoyance passed through Caitlyn's mind. "Look," she began, "with all due respect to the Divine... she needs to understand that sometimes there is no compromise possible, just victory or total surrender. It's not her fault; it's the enemy's. She cannot avoid 'provoking' people who think her tenure is illegitimate because of some views that she holds."
Cassandra scowled. "Have you ever seen war, Your Grace?"
"I saw the beginning of the Blight," Caitlyn replied. "I came to Kirkwall before I could see the full war against the darkspawn, but I saw the Qunari sack Kirkwall and then the violent mob just a few weeks ago."
"So not a full-scale, prolonged war," Cassandra said coolly. "As terrible as the Qunari attack and insurrection attempt were—and I do not deny that they must have been terrible—a war is worse. It is that type of event, scores and scores of times, without a respite." She stared ahead, past Caitlyn. "It is that death toll times a hundred or more. It is the complete destruction of villages, of armies setting fire to the homes of people who had nothing to do with the cause of the conflict, merely to claim territory." She sighed. "The Exalted March against the Qunari united the forces of the Chantry. This situation, which the Divine seeks to avoid, would be more akin to the Exalted March in the Black Age against the Tevinter schism, if not worse. That is why she attempts to keep her foes placated, Your Grace."
Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of what Cassandra had just said. The idea of scores of battles, each with a death toll in the hundreds, was horrifying. "I understand," she managed. "It's not something to take lightly."
Cassandra nodded. "That is why Her Perfection seeks a peaceful solution."
"I understand that," Caitlyn said again. "I sought one myself. The number of arguments I had with Anders about that..." She sighed at the memories. "But I'm afraid that it's just not possible. I hope I am wrong."
Cassandra was silent for a moment. "No offense, but I hope you are too."
Despite Cassandra's concern that Meredith now knew her use of red lyrium had been revealed, the Knight-Commander did not act. For the next week after the Seekers' departure, the situation between the Gallows and the Keep entered a state of tension comparable to a lit Qunari blackpowder barrel.
Anders was on edge, his anxiety almost palpable to Caitlyn, even when she tried to calm him by giving him moments to cuddle Jo Beth. "What is she waiting for?" he finally burst out when they were alone, having put Mal to bed.
Caitlyn had been thinking about just that over the course of week, after Cassandra's warning. "I think she wants to see what Justinia does, for one," she said. "There's a possibility that Justinia will merely reprimand her again. Buying illicit lyrium is egregious, let alone that it's evidence that she conspired with Mettin and Samson, but Justinia is afraid of a schism if she is harsh with Meredith, and Meredith must know that. She might not want to risk real consequences by retaliating against us too soon."
"Justinia's timidity has emboldened Meredith to do ever worse things," Anders muttered darkly.
"I agree one hundred percent," Caitlyn said, glowering at the thought of it, "and I wish Justinia would see what this has allowed." She heaved a sigh. "Also, I think Meredith probably has taken some actions privately. She has to know that there is a higher chance than ever that Justinia will sack her despite the risks, and if she hasn't sent letters to Elthina, her allies in the Seekers and Templars, and the Grand Clerics of Tantervale and Starkhaven, then I'm the Empress of Orlais."
Anders considered that. "Yes... she would be planning her response. Most likely a response to any conceivable act that the Divine could take. We need to do that too."
Caitlyn gazed ahead for a moment before turning to face him. "I've thought about that. I have several documents sitting in my desk drawer, ready to be sent: letters to Ferelden and Markham calling upon their pledged support, declarations of war against all three of our known adversaries. I've also talked with Aveline, Alain, and Cullen about defenses inside the city. The vigilantes don't know all the details, but they know that things could explode again, and Alain says they are ready to defend the Keep and the people of Kirkwall."
"What about the mages trapped in the Gallows? They would be the first to be killed."
"It is harder to get a word with Thrask now, after the massacre and the Seekers' visit, but he has sworn that he and the Templars who are with him are prepared to take up arms against their own colleagues if... it should come to it. He has done so before, against Karras in 9:31 and Alrik when you arrested him, so I believe him."
"I wish we could get them out," he said morosely. "I wish Meredith had no hostages at all—and I wish we could just get it over with. Maker."
She moved close to him and pressed against him. "I know," she said. "As bad as war will be, waiting on the edge of one feels worse."
He rested his head gently against hers, silently assenting. Taking comfort from his presence, Caitlyn adjusted the sleeping baby in her arms. Jo Beth was bundled in thick, fuzzy blankets. The baby was now about two and a half weeks old, still short of what would have been her due date. She was still smaller than a full-term baby, but she was growing. Nevertheless, it was now Haring, and a cold Haring, at that. After the terror that Caitlyn had felt when Meredith had injured her, and Jo Beth's own early birth, she and Anders both agreed that it was better to be too careful than not careful enough. Parents and brother, Caitlyn thought fondly, cuddling the small girl. Mal too had been very solicitous of his little sister. He probably will indeed be a Healer like his father someday, she thought. And what does the future hold for you, little one? We have tried to give you both a beautiful future. I hope that we succeed.
The curiously normal, yet tense, state of affairs continued in Kirkwall for the first week of Haring. Many residents whose homes had been damaged in the Satinalia massacre began repairs, and this included the Amells—though they hired a crew, in common with most of the well-to-do who had experienced property damage. Satisfied that his sister and her family were well, Carver took a ship back to Highever at last, having been in Kirkwall for more than a month. It meant a land journey from Highever to Amaranthine, but this was preferable to a longer journey by sea in the winter. Caitlyn felt a pang for his absence; she had gotten used to having all of the surviving family together again, and although it was still a bit tough to admit, she felt safer with her brother nearby—or perhaps it was just that the whole family was together. Carver is better off in Ferelden if things do get bad, she told herself as he sailed.
Hawkes and Amells, friends and allies, all waited for word from Justinia. It was a long and hazardous journey by sea to Val Royeaux, especially at this time of year, and the Seekers' ship was not large or robust—a trade-off for it to be swift. And then, word came from a different source, one about whom Caitlyn had almost forgotten.
"I do not presume to demand your time," Zevran drawled, "but I have completed my investigations, and I think that both you and your noble spouse will be interested in my findings."
Anders' heart skipped a beat. He was already on edge as soon as the former assassin approached him in the outer Keep, and now, when they had gone into a private chamber and closed the door, he could hardly contain himself. The assassin seemed sardonically pleased with whatever he had to say...
"She is with the children," Anders said, trying to stay calm, "but I will tell her your findings. And if you have written proof, I'll take that to her."
Zevran grinned. "I was not able to search all of the late and unlamented murderers' habitations. Some of them had relatives who are still alive, and I preferred to keep my burglaries of Kirkwall houses to a minimum. It is much easier to slip into unoccupied tavern rooms."
"Yes, I suppose it's for the best that you didn't risk getting caught in a home burglary," he muttered. "I am sure you could have handled yourself in terms of personal safety, but I would have had to deal with Aveline if you had been arrested."
"Some of the infamous mob were apparently illiterate, as well," Zevran continued, "and left no written record of their communications or other statements. But not all were, and I found some very interesting notes among the others' possessions—which I took for myself, and now pass to you." He removed his pack and took out a sheaf of documents, several pieces of waxed ribbon sticking out as bookmarks. He was smirking broadly, eyes gleaming. "The escaped Templar was most definitely our friend Samson, first of all. Although the mob's leaders were Mettin and Samson, there were several lieutenants as well, most of whom ended up leading 'cells' during the massacre. These people were all literate and communicated with each other and the two Templars about their plan."
Anders wanted to pore through the documents himself, but he restrained himself from grabbing at them. "I'm not surprised, but I am glad to have it confirmed that the other one was Samson. It is a surprise to me that there was that much prior planning among the others, though." He considered. "I guess I wanted it to be that two Templars directed a mob of ignorant civilians as evil masterminds. I... should have known better," he said with a sigh.
"They directed the overall strategy, such as it was, but the lieutenants wrote to each other as well. And it is in their communications that the very interesting pieces of information come out." He turned to a spot marked by a green ribbon. "This fellow, an unsavory character named Basil, who went to Starkhaven, wrote to his contact in Tantervale that they had the approval from 'the highest level,' specifically from a woman whom he calls 'Her Perfection.' This, needless to say, is not the lawful and most conciliatory Divine Justinia."
Anders found Zevran's ironically affected and melodramatic way of speaking a bit annoying, but the information that Zevran was imparting put that annoyance out of his mind. He was sure he understood whom the conspirators meant, but he wanted proof. "Go on," he said eagerly. "They had an alternate 'Divine' of their own already, did they?"
"Indeed," Zevran said with a quick bow. He returned to the documents. "She is never named, but it is not hard to guess her identity. Their plan was to overthrow your regal wife, as you know—and I do not mean to refresh terrible memories, but they did not care that she was pregnant and did not intend to let even your son survive." The elf's tone was suddenly far more somber.
"I know," Anders growled. The thought of it still made him angry.
Zevran shook his head in derision at the despicable plot and closed his eyes briefly in silence before continuing. "After they had... done that, they meant to hold Kirkwall. Well, I should say, they meant for the Knight-Commander to hold Kirkwall. Mettin wrote to these civilian leaders that there were numerous 'agents' in Val Royeaux, some of whom were highly placed, and that once 'the faithful' had found proof in the Keep that 'the apostate'—meaning the most lovely Viscountess—"
"Watch your mouth," Anders said in warning.
"Once they had found proof that the most fierce Viscountess," Zevran amended, "was conspiring with Justinia to 'corrupt the Chantry and reunite with the heretics in Tevinter,' as Mettin put it, these Chantry agents would then 'do the rest' and, as I quote, 'restore Her Perfection's defamed reputation and bring her into her deserved title in the eyes of all the faithful.'"
Anders took that in for a minute. "So," he said, repeating it to make it clear, "they thought that Justinia was plotting to join the Imperial Chantry and we had letters to prove it, and then their allies in the Andrastian Chantry would oust her and install Elthina." He laughed bitterly. "Caitlyn's only direct correspondence with Justinia was when Meredith almost caused her to miscarry! There has been an intermediary for occasional communication, obviously, but we haven't plotted specifics of Circle reform with Justinia at all, just each other and people in Kirkwall. When I think of the number of complaints we have both made about Justinia's caution..." He shook his head. "While these lunatics believed that she is a true 'anti-divine,' as Caitlyn told me Meredith said once."
"Yes, it would appear that the most conspiracy-minded believed that Justinia is an agent for Tevinter because she has let a mage rule a great city. Some of them wrote letters complaining that the Prince of Starkhaven disapproved of that kind of talk, and that he believes she is merely 'misguided.' The majority of Divine Justinia's opponents believe likewise, so the mob thought. But they believed the conspiracy."
"Of all the deranged insanity..." Anders cut himself off. "Was Sebastian involved in the massacre plot?"
"He certainly knew that some of the Kirkwallers who left with Mettin were in his city, but I was unable to find proof of his involvement or foreknowledge."
"I'm sure he would have welcomed it if they had killed this family, though. Perhaps shedding a false tear for Mal and Jo Beth," he said, clenching his teeth in anger at the thought. "What about arms and armor? We suspected that a northern city armed them."
"I found one letter referencing a cache of weapons that would be brought to Darktown and handed out to those who did not have their own. There was no mention of where this cache came from, and the Templars did not write to the civilians about their own armor."
That was unfortunate, Anders thought, but not surprising. The red lyrium-runed armor would have been a closely kept secret. "You said that they meant for Meredith to rule Kirkwall. We already guessed that. Was she involved?"
Zevran broke into a broad grin. He turned to another bookmark, this one red. "Ah. That is a very interesting question indeed."
"Get to the point, Zevran," Anders said impatiently, his heart thumping.
"As you say, milord," Zevran said, still smiling. "She definitely knew about the assassination of Mistress Selby. Mettin was the one who took down your glyph that protected her, and Samson shot the bolt that ended her life."
Anders breathed heavily, trying to check his anger. "Samson, who used to work with her people to help innocent mages to safety!"
"Yes, and according to the letters, Meredith held a fervent prayer with them before the—event—to pray that the Maker would bless their deed and grant them success. I must say, as a former assassin by profession myself, even I found that to be brazenly blasphemous. And when it did succeed..."
"Then they all took it as confirmation that the Maker was on their side," Anders finished darkly.
Zevran bowed in assent. "The Templars and the civilian leaders exchanged letters prior to the massacre about that. And of course... as you certainly want to know... I found some lines in the civilians' correspondence that were highly suggestive of her involvement in other plans."
Anders held his breath.
Zevran cleared his throat, relishing the drama of the moment. He picked up one of the letters and read from it. "The most interesting to me was this, from a Kirkwall expatriate in Tantervale about another in Starkhaven: 'Cavin says he has word from Ser Mettin that if the apostate or her followers try to command the Knight-Commander to aid them, she will declare it a mere civil uprising, a matter between nobles and common folk, and will invoke Templar neutrality in such affairs.'"
Anders took it in. "That was the worst?" he said.
"That indicated her complicity the most strongly, yes. There were other references to her." At last, Zevran passed the bookmarked sheaf of papers to Anders. "Perhaps you will have a different opinion. They are yours to read and to keep."
Anders accepted the documents, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. The papers in his hand could ignite a war that could change Thedas forever, and he felt the weight of that. He swallowed hard. "One last question before I do just that. The attack on my healing clinic in the Keep...?"
"Ah. That was the one matter for which I could find no evidence that anyone knew in advance other than the one who did it."
Anders let out his breath. "That was what we were forced to conclude too, but I was curious." He gazed at Zevran. "Thank you. This is... I don't know what I will do with this just yet," he admitted. Somehow, the papers in his hand felt even heavier. "But I thank you for the hard work and risks you took to obtain them and then the time you took to read through them. I will pay you at once... and I hope you will stay in Kirkwall with us, but if you don't, please know that if you ever need to hide, to take shelter, or even if you just change your mind, you are always welcome here." So long as we ourselves are here, he added darkly—and unwillingly—in his own mind. He had not even begun to read the letters, but even based solely on what Zevran had related, he knew that they would have to do something. It would be Caitlyn's decision, of course, but he did not doubt that she would want to act.
Anders almost hated to interrupt his wife and children—my beautiful family, he thought as he entered the sitting room. Suddenly the importance of his family life loomed larger than ever before, when he held the equivalent of a bomb that could destroy everything they had built over their years together. He stood in the doorway to the room for a moment, taking in the scene. Mal was reading a book about magic and occasionally raising his staff hand to practice a spell. Baldwin and Pounce lay on the floor before the crackling fire in the hearth. And on the small sofa sat Caitlyn, nursing Jo Beth, looking more peaceful and content than he had seen her in years—certainly more peaceful than he had seen her since she had become Viscountess. She had not looked this happy, in the simple, pure kind of happiness, since before the Qunari attack, before she had begun scheming in earnest with Petrice, before everything had become so complicated and painful and frightening. He remembered how dark and angry she had been on Satinalia, the terrible justice she had ordered—and done—and then her sorrow and weariness in the days after. The woman on the sofa before him was almost as peaceful-looking as she had been in Lothering. Not quite—heart-wrenching loss had touched her since then—but almost.
I could burn these documents, Anders thought wildly, looking at the fire. I don't have to do anything with them. Perhaps those Seekers will make their report and that will take care of everything. Perhaps Caitlyn's fondest wish will come true, even if she doesn't believe it herself anymore. Perhaps this can end peacefully. And if it can, what right do I have to destroy all chances of that?
Caitlyn turned around, sensing that someone was watching her. She smiled at the sight of her husband. "Anders," she said, "why don't you sit down?"
He hesitated, but only for a moment. He would have to tell her about the papers and what they apparently contained anyway. It was not something that he even wanted to hide from her—but right at this moment, he decided not to let it interfere with his enjoyment of his family. I didn't get to see Mal's infancy at all, he thought with a pang as he took a seat beside her and observed her nursing the tiny baby in her arms, and I won't miss Jo Beth's if I can help it.
He tried to be nonchalant about the parcel of papers, setting them on his other side as he reached for the baby to hold, but she noticed. "What's that?" she asked as she passed him Jo Beth.
He suppressed a grimace. "Zevran finished his investigation. These are letters he took from the rooms of dead murderers," he said. When she tried to reach across him for them, he shook his head desperately. "Please," he said, "not now. I..." He glanced at the baby in his arms, so small and vulnerable, his daughter. She gazed back at him in interest cloaked in mystery; even Healers did not know what babies truly understood, but Anders liked to think that the look on her face was love and awareness of who he was. Her eyes were still dark blue, but her golden hair was growing. Anders knew that these days would pass far too quickly, and before they knew it, she would be a growing child, as they had suddenly noticed one day with Mal. He cuddled her closely and closed his eyes for a moment, as if that could close out reality too. "I need this moment. I haven't read them myself yet—I just got back from hearing Zevran's summary and giving him his pay—but what he told me is bad enough. I need to think of our family, our children... our love. Please," he begged her.
She drew back, surprised at the vehemence of his plea—and the sadness in his voice. It must indeed be bad, she thought, suddenly gazing at the sheaf of documents as if it were a deposit of red lyrium itself. "Of course," she said. She leaned against his shoulder. "It has waited this long since the massacre. It can wait a little longer."
Across the room, Mal, who had heard and understood every word, studied his parents and gazed uneasily at them before continuing to practice his spells. He no longer had to practice in the warded, windowless stone room, and he was glad of it. It meant that they agreed that he had greater control over his magic, which he knew himself was true. He wished that he could openly be a mage, like them, but although he knew very well that the prospective conflict that so worried his parents would make that possible for him, it also scared him.
Late that night, after the children had gone to sleep, Caitlyn and Anders sat up reading the letters together in bed. It was not their usual preference for what they would want to do in bed—there were at least three other activities that vied for that honor: sleep, cuddling, and sex—but neither of them could look away tonight, and as they read, they discussed the letters' contents together.
"This is—" Caitlyn gaped in horror at a sentence. "We knew it, of course—we knew that there were moles in the Chantry, traditionalists in the north wanting to declare a schism, and violent murderous zealots here, but proof that they really are all talking to each other? And what an absurd belief—they actually thought that Justinia was going to join with the Imperial Chantry?"
"Some of them," Anders said. "Most of the ones in that mob, from what I gather. The 'saner' ones—relatively speaking—are still out there."
"Even so, this is insane!" she exclaimed. "And this bit about Meredith telling Mettin that she meant to justify her inaction by saying it was a civil matter that didn't involve the Templars..." She tossed the letter down on the bed darkly. "She knew. This cannot stand, Anders. We have to do something."
"Yes, we must. What do you think it should be?" he asked sincerely.
She considered that. "I don't know," she admitted. "I wish Zevran had been able to finish his work before the Seekers left. I would have wanted to give a copy of these notes to them. This is extremely damning." She paused, thinking. "And yet... I wonder. Would it have mattered?"
He sighed, rubbing his head. "Perhaps not."
She glowered. "These people, these oh-so-'sane' zealots who remain in the leadership of the Seekers, Templars, and priesthood, might just say that these documents don't prove anything. Even if Justinia herself believes what is in them, as she likely would, would she act on them with that kind of pressure? Two and a half years ago, Sebastian almost convinced Kirkwall that Elthina was innocent of treason by asserting that a letter proving her guilt was forged. How much more 'reasonable' would that defense seem when the papers came from a former Antivan Crow whom you hired specifically to uncover this?"
Anders was disturbed by the idea, but he could not argue with Caitlyn's reasoning. Something of the sort probably would happen if they sent the papers to Justinia. And yet, as frustrated as he had been with the Divine, even more frustrated than his wife, he did think she would believe what was in them. "She might want to investigate it herself," he began... and in the next moment, his mind completed that thought very unpleasantly. "With the Seekers, who are corrupted from the top," he concluded. "You're right."
"I'm not even completely convinced that she can trust one of the two who came," Caitlyn said darkly. "Cassandra Pentaghast is... traditional... and I doubt I will ever be her good friend, even if Varric's persistence pays off—"
"What?" Anders burst out.
In spite of everything, Caitlyn smiled wryly. "You didn't notice? He's interested in her. I hope it works out; he deserves better than his real-life Bianca, who strung him along and married somebody else. But that aside, although I doubt I will ever become a personal friend of hers, I do trust her in this. I don't know why; I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about the other one, Lucius Corin, rubs me wrong, even if Divine Justinia does trust him. He seems to want war, but why? He is no mage; what is in it for him? And yet, they are the ones that Justinia does trust the most. Can you imagine what the rest of the highly ranked Seekers must be like?"
Anders nodded. "We must assume that all of those are against mage rights, against us, if not outright traitors. Why else would she send hand-picked ones instead? But even if there were nothing wrong in that quarter, what better evidence could there be than these letters?" He gestured to the pile of papers. "Other than Samson and Meredith herself... and perhaps those other Templars in the Gallows who are close to her, and I'm sure that they all destroyed their correspondence with Mettin, if they ever put anything in writing... Other than them, who would even know anything about it now? The members of the mob are dead. Those letters are the best evidence there could ever be."
Caitlyn grimaced, closing her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm the reason none of them can be made to give testimony now."
He instantly moved to embrace her and threaded his fingers into her long red hair. "You gave that order because of the danger they posed," he said, "and that takes precedence over a benefit that they might or might not have given."
She sighed, closing her eyes and letting him hold her.
"There is one other thing that occurs to me now," he said, "and that is that I'm not sure we have the time to wait for Justinia to do a separate investigation. We were already nervous about the fact that Meredith and her cronies know that their red lyrium usage has been revealed. Five and a half weeks ago, a mob in cahoots with them murdered hundreds of innocent people and tried to overthrow you. The mob may have been the most insane, but their allies are still out there, they are still dangerous, and they can't have given up. We can't afford to wait much longer."
Caitlyn tightened her grip on him, holding him as if that would make everything right. "What are we going to do, then?"
He closed his eyes, held her tightly, and wrapped his arms in a tight, warm hug. He wished he could hug their entire family right now. As he finally allowed himself to think of the answer that she had not wanted him to consider a couple of months ago, the deed that would unleash what she—and Justinia, and Leliana—had tried for several years to hold back, he felt the old familiar fear for his family creeping back. He wanted to hold them. He wanted them here, to know that they were here and that so long as they were in his arms, nothing could happen to them...
As hard and frightening as it was to do, he pushed that thought aside. It was not true. Protection would only come from removing threats.
"There are still eight more former Crows who work for us in the outer Keep," he said. In the stillness of the wee hours, it felt like screaming his plans to all of Kirkwall. In his arms, he felt Caitlyn take in her breath. Her pulse sped up, and so did his. "There is also a militia of loyal vigilantes, most of whom survived the massacre."
Caitlyn was silent for almost a full minute, contemplating what he had said, snuggling against him. At last she spoke.
"I have accepted that war is inevitable, but now that it may have come to it... I'm still fearful of what it might mean," she confessed. "I don't fear being on the wrong end of an Exalted March—now that we have this evidence, I don't believe Justinia would do that, even if we did assassinate Meredith—but that does not mean that she would help us in the war that would erupt. She might want to, but with all those people who want her gone, she might be afraid to do it unless we could somehow show that we had no other choice."
"We would have Markham and Ferelden," he pointed out. "Ferelden kicked out the Orlesian chevaliers with much less of an army than they have now. They would have Starkhaven, Tantervale, and Hercinia. I like our chances."
"And they have people who could assassinate Justinia. If a new, anti-mage Divine ascends, suddenly we are all criminal infidels, heretics, anathema. I have complained about Justinia, and I still am dissatisfied with some things, but her sitting on the Sunburst Throne is why I am still Viscountess. It's probably why I am still a free mage. And there are agents around her waiting to kill her."
"That's a problem, but in fact..." He considered. "The fact that they are insinuated into the Chantry, playing politics and manipulating the system to bad ends, reinstating Meredith, intimidating Justinia out of strong action by their very presence—all this means that maybe it is time to force them out of the shadows. Based on those letters, they are ready to name Elthina a rival Divine, which is the definition of declaring a schism. A war would force the north to defend itself too, and to defend their false Divine if they did that. Perhaps the agents high in the Chantry would have to make their real allegiance clear at last. War can be clarifying as well as terrible," he finally concluded, his voice melding into Justice's at the end. A crackle of light passed down his body.
She swallowed hard, trying to sort out how much of this was Anders, how much was Justice, and, irrespective of whose idea it was, whether it made sense to her. "I don't think they will all openly declare themselves," she said. "Most probably would, to join their side in war, but it would be smart to leave an agent or two in place. But..." she considered further, "if it's just one or two, that's a lot better than a dozen who are highly placed, whose very presence is intimidating to Justinia. And Leliana has agents too."
"So..." He trailed off, waiting for her to say it.
She took a deep breath, feeling the same momentous weight that she had felt when she had given the fatal order on Satinalia Eve. This time, though, her decision would likely be a proximate cause for the deaths of thousands, not all of whom would be guilty of a crime. She closed her eyes for a moment as if in prayer, then faced Anders. "Summon Meredith and all the names on your list. I presume they would be your targets, the Templars who back her. Make your accusation," she said. "Present the evidence that Zevran found, and have the Crows and vigilantes ready." She began to shake.
He held her, resting his head gently on her shoulder. When some of her trembling subsided, she continued. "There are two things I want, though."
"Anything you command, my Viscountess," he said, trying to inject a little lightness into the dark moment.
She smiled, but only for a moment. "I want you to wait until we hear back from Val Royeaux about the Seekers' report and what Justinia does about it."
"Of course," he agreed.
"The other thing... you removed Cullen's name from your list. There might be others who changed their minds."
Anders stared ahead into the darkness for a moment, thinking, then turned to her again. "I will give them a chance, and I will tell the Crows to spare anyone who disowns Meredith after hearing the evidence... but that's all the chances that they deserve. If there are any others like him, not one has done a thing to stop, undermine, or even publicly weaken her." He gazed at her. "Justice doesn't have to be punishment. It can also be atonement, but that has to mean actions. Cullen is atoning. No one else on that list is."
She gazed unhappily at him. "You know," she admitted, "you're right. I agree with everything you just said. But the blood, Anders..."
"You agree that the ones who stick with her deserve to die, don't you?"
Caitlyn nodded. "Definitely. Anyone who sticks with a murderer and traitor deserves death." She paused. "I hope that only Meredith dies."
Anders held her gently to comfort her. He felt that this was an absurd hope, and he was pretty sure that she did too. "You know that's not likely."
"I know," she admitted. "But I'm tired of blood and death. I know we are helping to build a better world, but Maker, it hurts."
"It hurts for us so that it won't hurt for our children," he said quietly.
She breathed in and out, taking comfort in that. "Yes," she said. "You're right. That's what it was for me from the very beginning here in Kirkwall, before I even knew you were still alive. I would do what it took to give Mal the life he deserved. That's what it always was for me."
"And it's what it is for us now that we are together, we have two children, and now that it has come to this at last."
Over the next few days, as they waited for word from Justinia, Caitlyn and Anders made their grim preparations. She watched from a safe distance as he discreetly gathered the former Crows and explained what he meant to do if it became necessary, passing copies of the list of names to each of them. To the couple's surprise, Zevran did not leave just yet; he said that he would see this through to the end, so he was included in Anders' plan as well.
Caitlyn knew that she had the authority, but she did not want to force the City Guard to take part in this. It seemed the sort of abuse of power that she claimed to abhor in her enemies, and as a practical concern, she knew that she could trust the vigilantes in front of the Keep, who had sworn loyalty to her personally because they agreed with her cause, more than guards whose loyalty was to the city-state and who might not support her opinions about mages. Keeping her baby in her arms, afraid of letting Jo Beth out of her sight, Caitlyn plotted with Alain as Anders schemed with the former Crows.
Meanwhile, Mal was aware that something was afoot, even if he did not know what, and his parents refused to tell him the details. His pleas turned into frustrated demands. Caitlyn and Anders were surprised; Mal had always been a very agreeable, gentle, sweet-natured child, and seeing him stamp his feet and sulk as mild magic burst from his palms in frustration was shocking to them.
"You need a change, obviously. Visit your grandmother," Anders finally said in exasperation, shooing him to the barrier doors of the inner Keep where a guard would accompany him to the Amell house. The restorations were continuing, but Leandra and Orana had already moved back. The other members of the household still lived in the Keep for now.
The boy pouted but assented to his father's order. "I'll ask her about it, then. Grandma won't keep secrets from me!"
"You do that," Anders replied, well aware that Leandra had no idea what was in the works. "I just want you to understand, son, your mother and I are trying to protect you. There are things you don't need to know at your age!"
"I'm nine next month. You talk about some things in front of me, and you told me about your big secret. What could be bigger than... Justice?" he said, ending in a whisper even though they were alone and the great doors were shut.
"It's not about how 'big' a secret is. It's that it's something that you do not need to think about or worry about! Just... visit your grandmother."
When he had finally gone to the Amell house with the guard, Anders sank into a chair, covering his eyes. He certainly did not think he could tell his son that he and Caitlyn were planning to have the Knight-Commander and her loyalists slain, but if events unfolded the way that he feared they would, Mal would learn about it anyway.
30 Haring Dragon 9:36.
As the month and the year drew to a close, Caitlyn began to wonder if something had happened to the Seekers en route to the Grand Cathedral. Anders was anxious; the Crows and vigilante leaders were waiting for the word. News finally reached Kirkwall on the last day of the year Dragon 9:36.
A veritable storm of news.
The official messenger from the Grand Cathedral hurried to the Chantry and the Keep after delivering her message to the Knight-Commander of Kirkwall. One of the Nightingale's agents, she knew what Her Perfection had decided, and she wanted to be safely ensconced in one of the other buildings by the time Meredith Stannard reacted. Her last visit was the Keep.
"Your Graces," began the woman, doffing her Orlesian-style hat in a low bow. "I bring word from Divine Justinia." She extended the sealed scroll. On top, tied into the string at its base and stuck into the wax sunburst seal, was a raven feather. They had never received letters from the Divine with that before.
Caitlyn instantly understood. "You are most welcome here," she said, taking the scroll. "Please, take rest." She expected this was good news, but in case it was not, she wanted to be alone with Anders—well, Anders was holding Jo Beth, but she did not understand—for her negative reaction.
.
Your Graces:
The Successor to the Sunburst Throne, Her Perfection Divine Justinia V, expresses her grave concern about the report and evidence brought by Seekers Cassandra Pentaghast and Lucius Corin concerning the activities of certain Templars of Kirkwall, including the Knight-Commander, Meredith Stannard.
Her Perfection assures Your Graces that she is ordering an investigation of the disturbing red lyrium, to be conducted by the Seekers of Truth. No record of this substance has yet been discovered in the libraries of the Grand Cathedral, the Imperial Palace of Orlais, the White Spire, or even the dwarven Kingdom of Orzammar, which is very troubling to Most Holy and those closest to her.
.
"That's what took so long," Caitlyn murmured as she and Anders read. "They asked Orzammar!"
"I hope that this delay hasn't given Meredith's allies high in the ranks a heads up," Anders said darkly.
Caitlyn winced but continued to read.
.
Most Holy is aware that the disgraced Templars who led the shameful attack on 30 Harvestmere had red lyrium. The Seekers who came to Kirkwall had a difference of opinion as to whether its presence among the possessions of the one that Your Graces captured implies involvement by the Knight-Commander in the vile attack. However, Most Holy deems that, in the interest of Your Graces' safety and that of your family and city, and in light of the history of increasingly brazen and violent attacks upon the same, it is best to take precautions. Therefore, Most Holy declares her inspired command to Meredith Stannard to resign her office forthwith and to travel to Val Royeaux to the Grand Cathedral for questioning.
.
Caitlyn set the letter down, overwhelmed. "She did it," she finally managed. "She actually did it."
Anders was less sanguine. "She and what army?" he burst out. "So far as I can tell, the messenger was the only person she sent here! Who is going to enforce that?" He clutched the baby close as an involuntary reflex, shaking.
Caitlyn stared at him. "You truly think Meredith will defy a Divine order?"
"Yes," he said, his expression curdling with fear. "I do. Justinia should have given this order months ago—Maker, years ago—when it might have meant something. Now, Meredith and her followers have gotten away with so much, it's too late for a measure like this!"
"I guess we'll find out," Caitlyn said, hoping that he was wrong and that this was just another black mood of his. She was about to reach for Jo Beth from his arms when she noticed another, smaller letter still in the wrapper. She took it out. This one was from Leliana.
.
Your Graces,
If I know both of you as well as I think, one, and perhaps both, of you are likely outraged that Her Perfection has taken this approach instead of something more forceful.
.
"She does know us," Caitlyn said wryly. A bleak chuckle escaped Anders.
.
We fear that word of this has already reached the self-styled and pre-schismatic "Alliance of the Faithful." Justinia decided what she was going to do as soon as the Seekers returned, and we fear that the "Alliance" moles guessed too.
.
"Then why did she take so long to send the order?" Anders growled.
.
The idea, which I fervently hope will come true, is that Meredith does leave in peace, rather than engaging in a defiance which she must know would result in violence. And if she leaves quietly, this could dispel war and schism, since her provocations in Kirkwall have been the center of much of the conflict and tension.
Maker pray that we are right. The alternative is hideous to contemplate.
Leliana
.
Caitlyn set this note down beside the official one. She breathed heavily. "I hope she is right too."
"And I fear that she won't be."
That hung in the air for a moment before Anders spoke again. "Where is Mal?" he said anxiously.
"He went to my mother's house, under guard. He's fine, Anders."
Anders rose from his chair and paced around, holding Jo Beth close to his chest. A vein pulsed in his neck, and a single flash of light darted down his neck. "I'm on edge now," he confessed. "She is going to do something. She won't take this quietly. The Divine should have sent people to remove her and all of her cronies by force."
Caitlyn found herself in agreement both with Leliana's hope and reasoning and Anders' fear that it would not make a difference, that this was beyond reason and talk now.
For a couple of hours, there was no word from the Gallows. From the Chantry came only the message, delivered by a young initiate, that the Grand Cleric's loyal guards were firming up the defenses of the structure and the healing clinic within, and that it would be a sanctuary for innocent Circle mages if Meredith took out her wrath on them. That relieved Caitlyn and Anders.
Then, finally, as the sun ended its low ascent in the winter sky and began to sink again, word came from the Gallows, in the person of a young Templar trainee who arrived breathlessly at the steps of the Keep.
"She has given her response," the young woman said, gasping, clutching her chest as Cullen and Aveline helped her into a seat. Her breath hitched, but she was still able to speak once she had taken several breaths and drunk a cup of water. "The traitor, the former Grand Cleric of Kirkwall, must have known already."
"I knew it," Anders burst out.
The Templar trainee looked wearily at the faces staring at her. "First the Knight-Commander came out of her office, waving a document that had the seal of Starkhaven on it, which she said was from Elthina."
"What did she claim it said?" Caitlyn said tightly.
"All due respect, Your Grace, but it did say this; I saw it myself. Elthina says that Divine Justinia's order is proof that Most Holy is compromised by 'apostates.' I think she must have meant Your Graces, though you are not, of course—Your Grace has a dispensation and your lord husband is a Warden."
"Of course she meant us," Caitlyn said impatiently. This was obviously a very devout Templar trainee with some traditional views, and this was nothing but apologetics for herself to assure herself that it was all right for a mage to rule Kirkwall. Caitlyn was interested in what Meredith had said, not the young woman's mental acrobatics.
"Elthina wrote that this means that Divine Justinia's decrees are not inspired by the Maker or Andraste, and the faithful are not bound to follow them," the young woman concluded in a whisper. "Meredith is not resigning."
And there it is, Caitlyn thought, closing her eyes. This is it. She opened them again and gazed bleakly at the others, fixing on Anders. He looked angry and horrified. "Excuse us," she said, going to him and taking his arm to step into a small office with him. She closed the door behind them and cast a green glyph to ward it against sound escaping.
"This is it," he said, holding the small baby close. Flashes of light were darting down his arms, which made her uneasy. She reached for the child, whom he surrendered to her. He paced around the little room agitatedly, finally stopping and turning to face her. "They're going to do it." A surge of lightning suddenly arced from his hand to a metal vase on a small table, knocking it to the floor in a buzz of charge. "Why in the Void did she wait so long?" he suddenly raged. "And then to send this—this toothless order! She should have sent people to remove Meredith and her cronies at swordpoint, because that is what it will take!" He punched the wall, charge exploding from his hand.
Caitlyn did not know what to say. He was horribly, despairingly right.
"And as long as Meredith sits there, she poses a threat to you, to this family, to every Circle mage—to the entire city! We can't wait for Justinia to send a force now. Elthina obviously had ample warning of what was coming, since her letter arrived the same day as Justinia's, if not even earlier! Meredith might have known already! And for all we know, the 'Alliance' cities have soldiers marching south this very minute! We are out of time. We cannot wait for Justinia to save us. It's time to take Meredith out, and all who back her. We have the pieces in place."
"You're right," Caitlyn said, feeling the weight of it, but also feeling liberated to say it at last. "It is time. She expects a force of Justinia's. After what Elthina wrote, she has to. But she might not expect an attack from us." She took a deep breath. "Let's give the order."
He inhaled and exhaled heavily, then sank into a chair, covering his face, as the flashes of light subsided. A sob escaped him. "This is..."
"Are you having second thoughts suddenly?" she exclaimed, shocked.
He raised his gaze to her, and his eyes were sadder than she had seen in years. "Please," he said, "don't be there yourself."
A chill shot down her back. "Why would you ask that?" she said. "Are you planning to go?"
"I..." He closed his eyes briefly. "I set this in motion. It was my idea. I should be present. It's like you felt on the night of the massacre. You gave the order, and you felt that it wasn't entirely right or just unless you carried part of it out, felt the weight of the action, yourself."
Irritation suddenly surged in her. "Right or just," she repeated, staring at him. "Is that you, Justice? Let Anders make his own decision."
"It's... both of us. Please," he begged her. "Please don't go."
She glowered at him. "You can't ask me to send you on a mission like that and not fight by your side." She gazed briefly at Jo Beth, then back at him. "What about the children? How could you even contemplate leaving them without their father?"
He suddenly leaped to his feet, panic filling his face. "Where is Mal?" he exclaimed. A flash of spirit light passed over him, almost taking control of him, but subsiding in a half second. "Is he still visiting your mother?"
"Yes," she said slowly, but suddenly, the same fear filled her. Perhaps it was just seeing him so terrorized by the unspoken, unspeakable fear...
Outside the small room, a heavy thud and a reverberating clang sounded through the outer Keep, immediately followed by the sounds of a woman crying and a man groaning in pain. Caitlyn and Anders exchanged one look and burst out of the office.
Before them stood Leandra, her face streaked with tears and contorted with stark terror. She gazed at her daughter and son-in-law in misery. Beside her was Ser Thrask, disarmed, his shield arm hanging at an unnatural angle, broken at the elbow. His sword arm ended in a bloody, bandaged stump, which was still leaving red drops at his feet, and his skin was paling from blood loss.
"Oh, my dears," Leandra burst out, collapsing on her knees, bursting into shaking sobs. She gazed at them imploringly. "I'm so, so sorry—"
Fear filled Caitlyn, a fear she had not felt since the ogre loomed over Mal in Lothering and Bethany gave her life for him. She knew. She knew what had happened—but somehow, she had to have confirmation of it. She gazed at Ser Thrask, clutching Jo Beth as though the evil woman could steal her away too from a distance, even as the Templar bled out.
"Mages! Heal this man!" exclaimed someone—Aveline, Caitlyn vaguely realized. From the room designated as the healing clinic, a pair of Healers emerged running, casting spells at Thrask to at least save his life, though it was too late for his right hand. Anders was staring at the Templar and his mother-in-law as if turned to stone and unable to cast a spell at all himself.
"She took him," Leandra choked out. "She stormed into the house with five others, and magic just burst out of him! He was terrified. He couldn't help it," she sobbed. She gaazed at Caitlyn and Anders. "I couldn't stop them."
Thrask gazed miserably at his arms, one broken, one missing a hand. "I was standing guard and saw her coming in with him. He was shaking," he said miserably. "I tried to stop them too, and this is what she did. I'm sorry. I failed you."
"Is my son alive?" Anders snarled, his voice like ice. Caitlyn looked at him. He was staring at the Templar with deadly, piercing eyes. Any second, Justice—no, Vengeance—would take over.
"So far as I know," Thrask said heavily. "He was sniffling when they took him inside, but he was alive and well. I am so, so sorry, and I beg your forgiveness—for this and the fact that I cannot do anything for you now, crippled like this."
"No," Caitlyn broke in, feeling vaguely detached from her own body at the moment. "You took on six Templars for him. I..." She gazed at her feet for a second, then stared ahead. "We are the ones who failed him. I promised him this would never happen to him. This is my failure."
"Caitlyn," Anders said.
She turned to him, furious resignation filling her face by the moment. "And our child is in that bitch's clutches right now! What does it matter whose fault it is?" Fury filled her words at the thought of it. "We're getting him out, and she is going down. Meredith Stannard will not see another sunrise." Suddenly there was no question in her mind about whether to go to the Gallows to fight with Anders. They were both going, and they seemed to have come to a silent accord about that.
A dark, angry, but determined hardness filled Anders' face at her words.
"Mother," Caitlyn said, turning to Leandra, "we have a plan. We have... people who are ready to act against her." She gazed unhappily at the baby in her arms. It was wretched to contemplate the thought of not seeing her daughter grow up, of never hearing Jo Beth's first words, but there was another possibility if she fell, which was far worse—the possibility that no one in their family would survive, including the baby. Feeling tears form in the corners of her eyes, she kissed the baby's forehead, then held out her arms to Leandra, who gasped. "Take her," she choked.
Leandra accepted the infant but stared at her daughter in horror at what this deed implied.
Caitlyn tried to clear her thoughts and focus on what had to be done. "Go to the harbor with her. Pack a trunk with the essentials—one trunk, Mother—if you must, but go to the harbor with her and await word. If word is bad..." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, steeling herself. "If... we fall... take her and get on the first ship to Ferelden. Do not wait one second. Go to Highever Castle or Vigil's Keep. Carver is there, and the Couslands are our friends."
Leandra was gaping at her daughter and Anders in mute horror, but she understood. "My dears," she whispered.
"You must, Mother," Caitlyn said. "You must. Promise me."
"You have my word," the older woman said quietly.
Anders stepped forward and knelt before his tiny daughter, giving her a kiss and whispering something to her. Caitlyn was sure she knew what it was. I love you too, she thought miserably, and I promise you, I will try my best to make sure you do not lose your parents and your brother this day.
Anders got to his feet again and took Caitlyn's arm, gazing at her with hard, just, righteous resolve. "This is it," he said. "It ends tonight."
Notes: You knew this was going to happen. I'm too big a proponent of the Chekhov's Gun trope for it not to, and it's been their great fear for years.
A confession: I didn't play Caitlyn Hawke first, and my first Hawke disagreed with Anders' decision in the game quest "The Last Straw" but spared his life. My views about the necessity of extreme actions in extreme circumstances have starkly evolved since then, and I also no longer see Elthina as anything like a well-meaning innocent, as this story makes abundantly clear. In a game canon universe, Caitlyn agrees with Anders in "The Last Straw." She has evolved to that. But it still bugs me that he lies to a love interest Hawke who is 100 friend (and therefore will get the option of agreeing with him). Other Hawkes, okay, but this type should have his trust. Anyhow, in this AU, lying to her about a major act—even if it's less, uh, explosive—would be an appalling betrayal, since they are married, have small children, she is Viscountess, and they've been at the center of everything for a while. I couldn't do that to them.
