Notes: Thank you for your continued interest! Here begins Part Three of Spells, Spells of Battle. It will cover the Mage-Templar War, which in this AU is led from Kirkwall by Caitlyn and Anders. That has major impacts on how it unfolds. This is the Mage-Templar War we mage supporters deserved, with battle scenes, weaponry advances, competent leaders, sensible tactics, and Handers getting to lead.
This story should be mostly compatible with Asunder, but here, there is open war raging in the Free Marches between 9:37 and 9:40. Asunder occurs parallel in Orlais, and I'll occasionally mention major events from it, until it converges with this fic. This story will track from Dragon 9:37 to 9:41.
Before you begin reading Book Three, I have a major announcement. The DA fanfic community is largely on AO3 now, but if you are reading this here, you may not know:
This story is already COMPLETE on Archive of Our Own, its original home. Here it is, as a three-part series (remove the spaces from the address): archiveofourown DOT org / series / 1199182
The AO3 copy contains maps showing the progression of each side's campaign and two close-up battlefield maps as well. There are also a few illustrations. For this reason the AO3 copy provides a better reader experience, and is really the preferred copy, since I can't embed images on fanfiction dot net due to its ban on them.
But if you like this site, then as long as it is usable, I will post here too.
Song: The Wolves of Avalon – "The Sky Goddess," and this is a direct, unmodified lyric! The real-world Andraste was a Celtic goddess.
Book Three: Spells of Battle
Chapter 61: Andraste, Queen of War
Justinian, Dragon 9:37, Kirkwall.
Caitlyn Hawke, Viscountess of Kirkwall and Commander of the recently formed Free Mages of Thedas, emerged from the alleyway covered in blood and sweat. Behind her trailed three of her friends: the confidently satisfied surface dwarf with his unique weapon, the lyrium-tattooed elf, and the half-dressed pirate rogue for whom the Viscountess had just done this favor.
Isabela was busily trying to stuff a satchel of papers into her corset, and Caitlyn noticed that the smirk on her face was a bit too broad.
"I'd like to see those papers for myself," she said pleasantly. When Isabela looked momentarily dashed, Caitlyn added, "It's as I told you. If he had one ship, it's yours. But if there is more than one, I'm requisitioning the rest for the war. That's more than fair, Isabela, considering that he was a slaver and that his 'request' ultimately got Kirkwall sacked by a foreign occupying army."
Isabela sighed, withdrawing the documents. "I suppose you're right." She handed them to Caitlyn.
Caitlyn studied them. There were, indeed, two ships in the dead slaver Castillon's possession. Isabela had the right to one of them, as they had agreed. But the second... I suppose I can use it as a flagship, if it's suitable, she thought. I was hoping for more vessels, but anything is better than nothing.
"Hawke has a point," Varric spoke up in her defense. "If she weren't Viscountess, you probably wouldn't have been able to get anything from him without leaving him alive. But as the ruler, Hawke can seize his assets."
"I certainly can." Caitlyn smirked.
"Slavers deserve death and dispossession," Fenris growled.
Isabela managed a weak smile.
Anders tutted when they entered the outer Keep. He was overseeing the Healers in the Keep's clinic, his and Caitlyn's son Mal observing—and, at long last, practicing magic openly—as well. He hurried over to attend to his wife and her friends.
"I still don't think you should have gone yourself," he muttered quietly to Caitlyn, healing her slight injuries. No one else could overhear; he would not chide her in front of strangers. "You could have sent anyone to do it."
"I could have," she agreed, "but I didn't. I've declared war, Anders. I've started a war. I—you and I, really—will have to act as chess players, and the pieces are lives. That's what war is... but I don't want to forget what it means. I need to do these things myself occasionally."
He sighed, cleaning her arms. "You're right. I just worry."
She reached for his face and caressed his cheek, gazing into his eyes tenderly. "I know. I can't ask you not to... and I wouldn't want to." She stared longingly at him for a moment before turning aside to greet their son. "Good to see you again!"
Nine-year-old Mal nodded. "Mother. Guess what? I got to heal somebody all by myself." He beamed. "Father decided I should have the chance."
She gave him a hug. "Of course! And I'm sure you did it just fine."
"She had a big scrape, but I fixed it, and nobody helped." The redheaded boy tilted his head proudly.
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows questioningly at Anders. It was not impossible that he had cast supporting spells all along, but that they had not been the sort to cast a light, so Mal wouldn't be able to see them. However, he shook his head almost imperceptibly. The entire exchange had passed between them without Mal's awareness, but it confirmed to Caitlyn that her son really had treated someone by himself.
Of course, she thought as Anders turned to one of the senior Healers to leave in charge in his stead. He got magic from both of us, and we never taught him that it was something to be ashamed of. He went to Anders' old clinic in Darktown for years, every day... and he did his own spells for the first time just short of age five. Our precocious boy. Of course he can heal a wound now. Pride suffused her at the thought of her elder child, the family she and Anders had created as mages, everything that they had accomplished—and hoped to win in the war.
He was thinking similar thoughts. He fell into a step that kept him very close to her and wrapped his arm around her waist as they headed into the inner Keep, where the family quarters and secure spaces were. The heavy doors isolating the private from the semi-public clanged shut behind them.
"Merrill and your mother are visiting," he said, "and they're watching Jo. I know that you have a meeting at the Gallows soon... so if you want to spend time with her..." He trailed off.
Her pleasant thoughts were interrupted by a pang. The demands of war did take Caitlyn—and Anders, sometimes—away from the family. It was inevitable, and she did try to lessen the incidence, but it still made her sad. She was not at all sure that she could ever have another child. They had struggled to conceive Jo Beth even with Anders taking a special potion for Grey Warden men to mitigate their infertility, and now...
The Templar's crossbow bolt pierced her shoulder, nearly blinding her with pain. She staggered, shocked—and then a second one struck her, tearing through her abdomen.
She shuddered. Anders had killed the enemy who had done that—and he had told her eventually, shaking and trembling as he did, that the Templar had been aiming a third bolt directly at the back of her head, which would have been fatal. She had managed to stop the bleeding by the use of a blood magic healing spell and Anders' own clean, purer healing magic. Meredith was dead, her cronies in Kirkwall were dead, and the Gallows belonged to the City of Kirkwall now. But Caitlyn had known all too well where that second bolt had struck, and she had already had to give birth to Jo Beth a month early due to exposure to red lyrium and another injury inflicted by Meredith herself. Anders had not seemed particularly hopeful that Caitlyn could safely carry any more children after these injuries. She sighed; it was quite probable that Jo Beth's babyhood was the last chance she would have to watch a child of her own go through those precious, fleeting stages.
She chastised herself at once for these thoughts. Anders had not seen Mal's infancy or toddlerhood at all. He had been locked up in the Fereldan Circle, torn from his fiancee and child for four years.
She returned to the present in her thoughts and faced him. "Of course I want to hold her and cuddle her before the meeting," she said. "We both will."
The Free Mages of Thedas were spread out across Kirkwall. Consisting of the mages formerly of the Kirkwall Circle, the local apostates, about half the mages formerly of the Fereldan Circle, and an assortment of apostates from elsewhere who had decided to join the fight, the growing army boasted about two hundred adult, battle-ready mages. They did not all live in the Gallows, but after Caitlyn and Anders had liberated the Kirkwall Circle and declared it a holding of the city, some had still wanted to remain there because they had nowhere else to go or did not know how to take care of themselves. Those who did leave the imposing structure still came back to the grounds frequently to consort with their fellows—or for summons such as this one.
Caitlyn and Anders addressed the assembled mages. "Free Mages of Thedas, friends, and family," she called out. "This shouldn't be long—but I have called you here to respond to a petition and to... handle another matter."
Murmurs of interest and anticipation spread over the crowd.
"First, a petition by Enchanter Evelina about orphaned children—mage and non-mage alike. Step up, Evelina." A mage stepped forward, a crowd of children trying to stay close to her. "You were allowed out of Circle captivity to see your adopted children after the Grand Cleric allowed mages to visit family. Now you request to start an orphanage and a school and have three other adults, including one mage, with you in this endeavor."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows at the next line in the petition. "You request to run this institution in one of the buildings in the former Qunari compound."
"Yes, Your Grace. It's a city property, but nobody uses it, so far as I know."
Caitlyn considered. This would be an expense for the city, because she did not want to put it under the control of the Chantry and Grand Cleric Petrice. Her hand-picked Grand Cleric did not have an issue with mages—so long as they were Andrastian or she believed that they were—but she was inclined toward religious fanaticism, and Caitlyn wanted children raised in a normal, non-zealous environment.
Child truancy and even child crime were still problems in Kirkwall. Orphans who had nowhere else to go turned to gangs and crime just to survive. Others were snatched up by slavers and traffickers. Were an orphanage and school really expenses—or an investment in a better future? "Your petition is granted," she said abruptly. "I want you to present a plan as soon as possible."
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Caitlyn sighed. The next matter was less pleasant, but it was necessary. She faced the mages. "This is not a petition. It is my decision—and that of my husband Anders—that the Circle shop, or what was the Circle shop, is officially disbanded as of this day."
The murmurs from the crowd turned into a loud storm. Caitlyn held up her hand for silence, and cast a force magic spell at her throat and mouth that would amplify the sound of her voice. "The shop was taking your handicraft and selling it without ever paying you for your work," she said, getting exercised, "and that ends now. Mages who create goods are the owners of them. If that means you, you can do as you see fit with your craft! Barter or sell if you want, set up your own shop if you like, become a merchant like any other merchant in town, and keep your hard-earned coin!"
A smattering of cheers erupted from the crowd. But now came the unpleasant part.
"As for the Tranquil, who also made goods for the Circle shop... I am aware that some of them were particularly good at handicraft. I have it on good authority that there were no Tranquil created in this Circle after Dragon 9:35, when my husband Anders and the Templar Ser Thrask rooted out a band of criminals who were still doing it... but the people who were already Tranquil before that date still remain." She rubbed her eyes, grateful that Anders was standing by her. His presence and body heat comforted her. "This isn't as simple as freeing slaves. Their minds have been... altered." She wanted to say destroyed, but supposed that was not politic for this crowd, who might have had friends and loved ones who were made Tranquil. "And at the present, we know of no way to reverse it. So—the right, the humane, thing to do is to give these people tasks without exploiting them."
The mages were deathly silent as they listened.
"Any mage who wants to go into business to sell their handicraft: You will not sell Tranquil-made products. That is a law now. Trade, buy, and sell as you like otherwise, but you will not use Tranquil to produce goods for you."
The mages murmured in general approval of this. Caitlyn took a breath; if they became angry about anything, it would be the next part.
"The Tranquil who served the old Circle by cooking, cleaning, and maintenance will continue to do so, under city supervision. And those who made goods are now conscripted to serve the war effort by producing runes and weapons for the war."
Just as she had feared, this did not go over quite as well as everything else had. Discontented rumbling arose. One older mage even stood up to call out to her. "Viscountess Hawke! How can you do that?"
To her surprise and great pleasure, Anders responded. "What choice does she have? Tranquility cannot be reversed!"
Divine Justinia was overseeing research into reversing Tranquility, but Caitlyn had no idea if that program would succeed, or if it was still even ongoing anymore with the war and the schism.
"I'd rather die than be Tranquil," the old woman replied.
"So would I!" Anders shot back. "But they are no longer in a position to tell us what they would truly want, any more than someone in a coma can. It isn't right to just—mass murder them." He closed his eyes, thinking of Karl. But Karl had had a moment of reconnection, due to the presence of Justice in Anders' body, and he had made the request to die with clear eyes, mage's eyes. Other Tranquil could not. That was the horror of it. If it were ever done to me, I could not even beg for death, he thought, because I wouldn't feel the same about it anymore. I wouldn't feel anything at all. He shuddered.
"I wasn't suggesting that, my lord," the mage woman said sheepishly.
"Anders is right," Caitlyn said, squeezing his hand firmly in hers to comfort him. "This is what I have decided will be done. Their talents will serve the war effort, not the acquisition of coin for the Templars." She paused, unable to leave the mage army feeling hopeless. "And if we ever do learn of a way to reverse the Rite, we'll see it done. For this, you have my word."
The mages were still discontented, but it was clear to the couple that they could not come up with a better alternative. Caitlyn and Anders exchanged sad looks and headed back to Hightown—where a War Council meeting would soon begin.
The War Council consisted of Caitlyn, Anders, and several of their friends and associates who either had military experience or represented the mages. This meant Aveline, the ex-Templar Cullen Rutherford, Ser Thrask, Merrill, First Enchanter Alain, and Enchanter Petra—the leader of the Fereldan mages who had rebelled and sailed to Kirkwall to join the fight.
And today, there was someone new: a male elven mage, young and rather handsome. He was waiting outside the Council door where Aveline's husband Donnic was standing guard.
"Your Graces," Donnic said, bowing.
"Who is this?" Caitlyn asked. "What's he doing here?"
"The other members of the Council want to explain it," he said.
Caitlyn shrugged and went inside, Anders' grip on her waist tightening as they faced their captains.
"You know I don't stand on formality," she said at once, getting right to the point. "Who is that elven mage outside the door?"
Petra spoke up. "He came here with a large group of apostates... well, mages who have always been apostates, or were for a long time. Not recent rebels from a Circle, I mean. He says they want to join the mage army and that he's essentially their leader. He goes by the name Sketch..."
An old memory suddenly rose to the head of Caitlyn's thoughts. "If he's who he says he is, I know of him." She considered how to explain this. "The Left Hand of the Divine, as some of you know, is... well, has been my friend."
She paused, sighing in regret. Leliana had not written a word to her since Starkhaven and its allies, the self-styled "Alliance of the Faithful," had declared a schism from the Chantry, the very outcome that Justinia had wanted to avoid. They had personally attacked Justinia, too, claiming that she was an "anti-divine" improperly occupying the Sunburst Throne as a heretic, and had named former Grand Cleric Elthina their alternate "Divine" instead. There had not been a schism since the Tevinter one ages ago—and the Tevinters had got away with it in the end because of the might they possessed in their mages. That might happen again. A great many Templars, and many priests and Seekers who supported the schismatics' reactionary views about magic, had migrated north to fight for the schism, leaving Justinia without enough manpower to order an Exalted March against the Orthodox Chantry, as it now called itself. Leliana was furious with Caitlyn about the schism, that she knew.
She took a breath and continued. "Years ago, when I still lived in Ferelden, Sister Leliana asked an elven mage named Sketch to find information for me about Anders." Next to her, he pulled her imperceptibly closer. "He was part of the Mages' Collective, an apostate guild in Ferelden that existed at the time."
Petra spoke up. "I also know him. He is who he says he is."
"Oh," Caitlyn said. "I never met him in person, so that's good. How many mages does he lead, and do they seem skilled?"
"He says he led over two hundred mages here. Some are children, but most of the adults can do something, either battlemagic or healing."
A smile bloomed on Caitlyn's and Anders' faces. "That's fantastic," she exclaimed. "That nearly doubles our magical forces!" She considered. "If Sketch is their leader, bring him in. I want to speak with him."
Cullen scowled. "They're apostates," he complained.
"Every mage at this table is or once was an apostate," Petra said. "We revolted in Ferelden. Alain leads the Kirkwall mages. The Gallows now belongs to the city and the Viscountess rules it rather than the Templars."
"That's different. These are not Circle mages seeking better conditions. They've lived in rebellion for years—"
Anders was glaring at the ex-Templar as if he wanted to throttle him. Caitlyn silenced Cullen with a hard look. "As did I." Cullen blushed faintly. "Cullen, what do you think this war is about? Just better conditions in the Circles? We don't think mages should have to stay in Circles if they can learn from someone else, and even if they do need to go, we don't think they should have to live there their whole lives. We think that mages—fellow mages, I should remind you—should get to do anything in life that anyone else can do."
"But we're also fighting because the Divine can't. There is a band of rebels against the rightful Divine, and because it includes traitorous Templars and Seekers, Most Holy can't fight it. We are basically her Exalted March."
Caitlyn scowled. "There is a schism because the so-called Orthodox Chantry objects to my position on Circles and mage rights... objects to my rule of this city as a mage... objects to my having a family with Anders openly as a mage couple... and objects to the fact that, I guess, Divine Justinia didn't tell Meredith and her red-lyrium thugs to cut us all down in bloody heaps. That is why there is a schism, Cullen: this issue."
He met her eyes with his. "And what if we win? You have this mage army. You've promised them freedom, but you are fighting against a schism as well. You are fighting for Divine Justinia, essentially. What if you win and then she says that things must return to how they used to be?"
Then I'll make sure she knows that if she wants that, she'll have to meet my—by then—victorious army, and I daresay she realizes it, which is why I don't think she will do that. Caitlyn bit back the brutal reply that she would have regretted. "Justinia wanted to reform the relationship of the Chantry and Circles to mages. She didn't want it to happen via war, but it will anyway, so we'll be in a position to demand changes. The Chantry is officially a noncombatant. They're not fighting. We are. The victors get to handle the spoils."
Cullen sighed. "As you say. I just hope that you are right about mages living independently. Obviously you and your husband can! But Your Graces are exceptional in many ways. How do we know that that's not another way?"
Anders could not keep silent any longer. Forking the evil eye at Cullen, he snapped, "I think we should ask that about Templars! Lyrium addiction does physical damage to the brain and body. Can you lot live independently without going berserk and becoming a danger to everyone around you? Meredith's fall into red lyrium suggests maybe not!"
Cullen's visage grew stormy. Anders had a history here in Kirkwall of provoking him, and they were only semi-recently on decent terms.
"That's enough. Anders, you know that wasn't helpful. Cullen, the only way to learn what mages can do while free is to give them the chance." Caitlyn turned to the others. "Let Sketch in. His people organized themselves enough to choose a leader and decide to come here. That's what we want to see, organization and self-government."
The elven mage was shown in, visibly surprised to actually be offered a seat on the Viscountess's War Council, but he took his place next to Alain and Petra cheerfully enough.
"Sketch," Caitlyn said, welcoming him. "I'm glad to offer you a position on the War Council representing the mages under your command. They are under your command, aren't they?" she added. "What is the nature of their organization and your leadership?"
"Your Graces. It's organized enough," he said. "Much of the Mages' Collective—those who were never rounded up and taken to the Circle, anyway—is there, and what we were doing already worked, so that's what we're doing with the newcomers too. As for 'under their command,' it's not exactly like that. They voted for me to represent them and see you as the commander, Your Grace."
Caitlyn smirked. "Well, I am the Viscountess of Kirkwall and Commander of the mage army. They are in Kirkwall and they want to be in the army, so there you have it." She gazed at him curiously. "We have a mutual friend, Sister Leliana, Left Hand of the Divine."
"Yes."
"She spoke only briefly of you when I lived in Ferelden, but she mentioned that you were... not that interested in 'politics.' What changed? What made you decide to fight in a war—or represent others who do?"
Sketch chuckled darkly. "I still count Leliana as a friend, but it wasn't quite that simple, Your Grace. I cared about mages even then. I just kept my head down because I didn't think anything good could come of getting involved."
Anders gave him an arch smile. "I used to feel the same, a decade ago. Things changed."
"They certainly did. Now, there's a chance. A really good chance. I wish Leliana well, and I hope she can protect the Divine—but if I may speak freely, Your Graces, it is my measured opinion that with so many Templars and Seekers joining this schism, Divine Justinia is in a world of shit."
"Really," Aveline objected, "it is not necessary to—"
"No, let him speak his mind," Caitlyn said, rather amused at his description.
"Thank you, Your Grace. In short... I'm betting on Kirkwall rather than Val Royeaux. And so did those who picked me to speak for them."
Caitlyn considered this. Sketch made himself sound like an opportunist, but she thought he was casting it in a needlessly negative light. How many of the mage soldiers would not have joined unless they believed there was a chance? Probably a lot, she thought.
She cleared her throat. "I'm sure many of the army only signed up because they believed that, at long last, there was a chance for real, lasting change. And by adding their numbers to the fight, they're creating that very chance."
"Your leadership is also creating that chance," Anders spoke up at once. "The power of your example as a mage and the leadership you've shown for three years in pushing for changes here in Kirkwall. Don't sell yourself short."
Caitlyn turned rapidly to him, a loving smile tugging at her mouth. He was so loyal and supportive of her, and she wished she could show him in public how much she appreciated it—and what it did to her.
"Thank you," she said softly, breaking her gaze with his warm brown eyes only reluctantly. She turned back to Sketch and the others. "We do have a chance, and I welcome you and your Mages' Collective fighters to the war."
Finally Caitlyn could take a break. Planning a war and overseeing the integration of mages into general society were exhausting, she thought—and she had not had the chance to properly relax from the morning jaunt to take out the slaver Castillon for Isabela.
She went into the nursery, where her mother had set down the book that she was reading and was instead playing with Jo Beth on the floor. The seven-month-old was starting to crawl, and she had an infectious laugh and smile.
"You should have told me that she had woken up," Caitlyn said, sitting on the floor. The baby quickly crawled over, happy that her mother was there.
Leandra smiled mildly. "I enjoy every minute with my grandchildren. I don't know if Carver will give me any... he and Merrill seem content to keep their relationship long-distance... and as you have told me, with the injuries you received, she may be the last one you have. I don't begrudge playing with her."
Jo Beth reached for Caitlyn's face with her chubby little hands. Caitlyn allowed her daughter to pat her cheeks, though she carefully pulled her long red hair into a ponytail to prevent the baby from yanking it. She regarded the little girl fondly. Jo Beth had been born a month early. She had not been in danger—at least, not after her actual birth—but she had always been small. Seeing baby fat on her, and a head full of thick honey-blonde hair exactly the color of Anders', made Caitlyn happy.
"I know that this war had to happen for mages to become free," Leandra said quietly, "and I am proud of you... but I hate that it has to be you and Anders who are leading it. You deserved peace after all that you went through."
Caitlyn sighed. "Life isn't fair," she said. She gazed at the baby's face. "But as Anders himself said once, it hurts for us so that it won't hurt for our children. Mal is a mage and she likely will be too. They will get to live the lives that we wanted for ourselves. And really, Mother, others need sympathy more than I do! I'm a head of state and I married the love of my life."
Leandra nodded. "But as your parent, I wish that it could have been us. I wish that we could have made those changes so that you didn't have to hurt. Malcolm... your father cared very much about freedom for mages."
A lump formed in her throat as she remembered her father. He had died—and Anders had been taken back to the Circle—ten years ago this month. It still hurt. "I know. And I know he would've fought, and you would've been by his side, but it isn't totally up to one person. I couldn't have achieved this either without someone like Divine Justinia sitting on the Sunburst Throne and allowing me to be here. Father didn't have those conditions." She sighed again, cuddling the baby. "This task is ours. It is what it is."
Night had finally come, and Caitlyn had put both of her children to bed. She headed into her private study, a room just off the state bedroom that she shared with Anders, and closed the door. She leaned back on the sofa. Although it was summer, this castle was always chilly—she wondered if there might be a magical reason for that—and she needed to start a fire in the hearth anyway. There were times when it was very convenient to be a mage, especially one with an affinity for fire, Caitlyn thought in satisfaction when flames were crackling away.
The door creaked open. Caitlyn turned around, relaxing as Anders entered the room. He sat down next to her and simply looked at her for a while, the fire crackling before them, until she felt very heated indeed.
"You could say something, you know."
He burst into a smirk at her words. "I could. But I don't think I will." He gazed hard at her, reflections of firelight blazing in his pupils, before suddenly lunging at her.
Anders was still fully dressed in one of his feather-mantle coats, and Caitlyn could feel it all very intensely as he held her: the pressure of the metal rings fastening it together down his front, the many textures of leather, suede, heavy linen for the short jacket on top, and those infuriatingly sensual feathers tickling her chest and neck. She had changed into her nightgown, making the sensations all the more intense with so little between the textures of his coat—and the heat of his arms around her—and her skin.
He bent his head, planting kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. Caitlyn moaned and pinned his head in place, tangling her fingers in his hair and fisting handfuls with each increasingly sloppy and possessive kiss. That is going to leave marks, she thought. But she could not care less.
He finally surfaced for air, forcing his head back up despite her arms, breathing heavily, and stared at her again for a half-second—
—Before tumbling with her onto the floor, where a furry rug made of the pelt of a bear rested in front of the sofa. Caitlyn was on her back, and Anders was atop her, before she could wrestle her way out from the spot.
Is he actually going to—she broke the thought off at once as he thrust his pelvis hard against her. Yes, yes he was... Almost involuntarily, she glanced backward and to one side, eyes rolling, breaking his gaze.
Anders took her quick glance as a sign of escape, and before she realized what he was going to do, he slapped his palms down on the rug on either side of her face. A confident, satisfied smirk spread over his face as he trapped her.
She could hardly believe it. It was thrilling and arousing just from the sheer bravado and daring of this situation. She had never done anything like this since becoming Viscountess. They were a very affectionate and intimate couple, but it was almost always in their bed or occasionally the deep tub in their bathroom. This was like a scene in a spicy Antivan romance—and Caitlyn was immersed in the moment.
Her fingers sought purchase in bear fur as Anders pressed himself against her and gazed fiercely into her eyes, teasing yet denying her—for now. She was sure she could feel every buckle and every shaft of the front-facing feathers on that coat. She was intensely aware of his hands, almost glowing with involuntary magic now, on each side of her face, keeping her exactly where he wanted her—and where she wanted to be. His presence was overwhelming, and her heart pounded from it—but she tried to retain some clarity. "What would people think if they walked in on us like this?" she managed.
"Like what?" he said, eyes gleaming.
"You just want me to say it because it'll arouse you," she said in defiance.
He leaned in, his breath right next to her left ear. "Fucking on a rug fully clothed? Oh," he said, smirking as she twitched and flushed beneath him, "it seems that maybe you didn't want to say it because it arouses you."
"I want you," she said. Her eyes were wide and dark. "I've wanted you all day. But we should go to our bed and you should take that coat off—"
"You don't really want me to do that and we both know it."
"You're awfully full of—"
Before she could finish the sentence, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head. "Stop talking," he murmured next to her ear.
She twisted beneath him, not really trying to escape, but still trying to muster some indignation. "Don't you dare speak to your Viscountess that way."
He chuckled. "You told me once that in our own quarters, you weren't my Viscountess—that we were just partners, spouses."
"That's no way to speak to your wife, then."
"Fair. I'd rather use my mouth for something else anyway." Not waiting another second, he seized her lips with his. She smothered a gasp of desire and surprise as she allowed his entry to her mouth. Anders had a way of kissing hard when he wanted to, and this was one of those times when he wanted to.
Yes, this was going to leave marks, she thought as she felt teeth from one kiss against the tender skin beneath her right jaw. She didn't care. They belonged to each other, and the whole bloody world knew it.
She almost complained when he pulled away, but this was a very familiar dance by now—if not in this specific place—and she knew that when he did, it only foretold more.
"Since you like the coat so much," he murmured, drawing back to unfasten the strings of his trousers, "I'll keep it on. Good?"
"Very good," she purred, reaching for the hem of her nightgown to pull the garment up her legs.
Anders slipped one hand quickly between her legs to test her readiness. He chuckled as his talented fingers slipped easily between her folds and dipped into her passage—but he needed her too, and neither of them wanted to prolong this. He removed his hand, drawing it up to his lips and quickly licking his fingers—the smirk on his face broadened asymmetrically on one side as her eyes widened in lust at the sight—before pushing into her with one hard stroke.
For a few intense, blissful minutes her thoughts were a blur of pleasure as they moved in abrupt, hard thrashes on the rug, fully clothed and hot with passion. Feathers coat leather elfroot fire heat Anders harder Anders yes like that Anders—and then it all became too much, and she peaked, just aware enough to know when he did too.
He rested gently on her after that, their legs and arms entwined, each of them giving languid kisses to the other with no particular pattern. "I love you so, so much," Anders finally murmured against her right ear, before reluctantly moving away to get up again.
"I love you too," she replied. She reached for his hands and allowed him to pull her off the floor with him. They cuddled all the way back into their adjoining bedroom.
The next day, a messenger arrived at the Keep, accompanied by a pair of guard lieutenants and a Fereldan mage. Caitlyn took the message and read over it. Her expression grew bright with each word.
She rolled up the scroll and turned to the messenger group. "This is excellent news," she said. "Rest here if you need to..."
The members of the group exchanged questioning glances with each other before the leader turned back to Caitlyn. "Thank you, Your Grace, but we had best return to Lighthouse Point. It may be ready, but it still needs its staff!"
"As you like, then. Do you require fresh horses?"
"No, Your Grace."
Caitlyn quickly went inside the inner Keep and found Anders. She showed him the scroll.
He read over it rapidly before beaming just as she had done outside. He gave her a hug, amber eyes sparkling. "This is wonderful," he said. "And especially with the new ship Isabela has... and you have too..."
"If Isabela wants to join the fleet," Caitlyn said with a doubtful shrug. "She may not. You know how she is. But my ship could be almost as fast as hers."
"I suppose the Council should be informed of this. The Small Council," he clarified, as there were now two councils, the War Council of military advisors and the Small Council that she had first established as Viscountess, which included general posts such as Treasurer of Kirkwall—Varric—and noble allies.
Caitlyn nodded. "It's the establishment of a new settlement within Kirkwall's lands. That's relevant to everyone."
"I have very good news," Caitlyn announced at the meeting. "And just in time."
Anders smiled his beautiful, heart-melting smile. The others waited, alert and interested.
"In early Dragon 9:35, I went to Ferelden for an alliance. As it happened, they were also debating naval increases to guard against Qunari aggression, in response to the attack that we suffered, and they voted to enlarge their navy with privateers in their king's service." She smiled. "The deal I made provided for the joint patrol of the Waking Sea between Highever and Kirkwall to assess duties on merchant ships. This is separate from the Kirkwall harbor tax. It will catch even those ships that can navigate the treacherous part of the Waking Sea and avoid this city, many of which are pirates. And, of course, this is extremely good news for our defenses, since any attack by sea would come from the east."
"It's ready, then?" Aveline said, pleased.
Caitlyn nodded. "After two years of work, it is. The Fereldan navy is built out, and we've added ships to ours too."
"And there's something else that's ready," Anders added. "I guess we all know about the 'Lighthouse Point' project..."
"Oh, that's finished already?" Varric said, surprised.
"The lighthouse is." She turned to the others. "Five months ago, after I declared war, we began building a tall lighthouse and supporting village. It's at the point of closest approach to Highever, basically due north of it. Under ideal conditions, our guards will be able to see Highever itself from the top of that lighthouse, and I'm going to purchase an Antivan spyglass to help when the conditions aren't ideal."
"That would be a wise investment," Ser Marlein Selbrech said. "The Felicisima Armada uses those, and for good reason."
"I don't think it'll be possible to evade the toll, but we'll issue a receipt when it's paid, and if a westbound ship doesn't have one when it passes through Kirkwall—or West Hill, if it braves the Storm Coast—then it'll be fined. Heavily. Eastbound ships that didn't pay the harbor tax also will be fined at Lighthouse Point—or Highever—though not as much. They're probably not enemies, but they could be pirates. It's revenue for war."
"More coin is good," Varric remarked. "Defense is even better. But the Waking Sea has been considered international waters. You're sure your right to do this won't be challenged?"
"Oh, I'm sure it will be. But I'm right and my challengers will be wrong."
The Council laughed politely and uneasily.
She cleared her throat. "Here's how I see it. The entire southern coast from east of Jader to the Amaranthine Ocean is Ferelden, and Kirkwall controls the northern coast between the Nevarran border and Ostwick's territory. Since we are allied, a ship passing through is traveling through our waters now."
"Fair enough," he said, considering it.
"Besides, we're at war, and that is a likely theater. As far as I'm concerned, we have every right to do this. If countries send their traders through but won't ally with us, they can help pay for the defenses that they benefit from."
"I agree completely," said Aveline. "They're freeloading otherwise."
"I'm going to take a look at the place myself soon," she continued. "Anyone who wants to come is welcome, of course."
The group that went to see Lighthouse Point consisted of Caitlyn, Varric, Aveline, Fenris, Isabela, and Alain. Anders wanted to stay home with Mal and Jo, so it was a small group that rode on horseback the approximately sixty miles to the new settlement.
Between the walls of Kirkwall and Lighthouse Point was arable land. Farms under the jurisdiction of Kirkwall dotted this land, and they rode past a wagon full of early produce headed for the city.
Lighthouse Point itself was located about as far east as it was still possible to farm. The lighthouse itself was almost sparkling with newness, as it was finished literally the day that the messenger rode into Kirkwall to inform Caitlyn. It rose a hundred fifty feet above the ground on a cliff overlooking the turbulent Waking Sea, which was itself five hundred feet above the water level.
The cliff was a sheer drop on the south and east sides of the coast. On the west side of this cliff was a comparatively gentle slope leading upward from the small harbor that had been built to support the residents and collect the tolls. It was Varric's idea that it was better to collect the tolls at a harbor—either Highever, if they were closer to the Fereldan side, or at Lighthouse Point—than for the ship patrol to have to collect them at sea.
Caitlyn observed the little village as she dismounted the horse and the lighthouse-keeper, a woman named Brennan Evighan of the City Guard, hurried up to greet her.
"Your Grace!" she exclaimed. "It's an honor!"
Caitlyn nodded. "I heard that the lighthouse was finished, and I wanted to see it for myself." She gazed around. "This village is larger than I expected."
"Yes. There's been a lot of interest from people who don't like the high rents in Kirkwall proper—no offense, of course," Brennan added.
"None taken. I don't set rents! And it seems healthier here than it is in Lowtown anyway... and certainly Darktown."
"Most of the people here came from Darktown," the lighthouse-keeper said, showing Caitlyn and her companions around the harbor.
"Ideally, the place will empty," Aveline chimed in. "The air is unhealthy, and criminals use it. No one should live there. But so many have had no other options. Hopefully this will change that."
"There are two mages from the army who wanted to serve here as well," Brennan said.
"I'm glad," Caitlyn said briskly. "The lighthouse itself is quite defensible, but the harbor..." She trailed off. "It's good to have mages here."
Before she saw the lighthouse itself, she toured the little village. There were a few fishermen, a farmer who kept chickens and pigs, and several people with little gardens. It could be self-supporting, but not nearly big enough to pose a threat to its parent, Kirkwall, if its people got ideas about independence.
As they finished observing the village, Caitlyn eyed the path up the slope. It was paved with stones, forming a rustic staircase, and each step had a split log at its edge: protections against slipperiness in the event of heavy rain. But there was no handrail. Winters were not as ferocious here as they were in central and southern Ferelden, but this could definitely ice over.
"I want a rail built here," Caitlyn said, "and a team ready to salt the steps in the winter."
"Understood, Your Grace," Brennan said.
They ascended the slope on foot. Caitlyn periodically cast invigoration spells at everyone else, as five hundred feet was a significant hike, but at last they reached the top of the cliff. The new lighthouse stood before them.
"Would you like to go to the observatory and—"
"Yes," Caitlyn said, "I would. I've heard it's possible to see Highever in good weather."
"Oh, it is, Your Grace, and you should be able to see it today."
It was another set of stairs, this set winding, but finally Caitlyn was at the top of the tower. She gazed out. It was amazing how height expanded one's range of visibility, she thought. She looked across the expanse of blue. In the distance, faint but still visible, gleamed the rock walls of Highever. I can see another country from here, Caitlyn thought in awe. I can come here and see Ferelden. My homeland. The country where my brother serves. The land of my allies. It's very close, after all. Here, I won't feel so isolated and vulnerable. It was a profoundly emotional, comforting thought.
It was also possible to see the line of ships—her fleet and Highever's—that patrolled this stretch of the sea. Indeed, nothing could get through this patrol... except by force. That thought was a little less comforting. But... that was the nature of war, Caitlyn thought resignedly.
It was night when Caitlyn and her party returned to the Keep at last. She felt her legs growing weak from the hard riding and hiking, and when she entered the inner Keep where Anders was waiting for her, her fatigue was apparent to him immediately. He cast a strong healing and invigoration spell at her and moved to support her with his arm.
"Lighthouse Point was a good idea," she said as they headed into their private rooms. "It's working out well so far. Some of the poor of Darktown are moving there, which is good for all sorts of reasons. It's insane that Kirkwall never founded other villages on the lands it holds. All we really needed was more room for people!"
"Too many leaders were selfish and corrupt," Anders said. He escorted her into their bedroom. "I'm glad it is working out so well. Can you really see Highever from the observatory?"
"You certainly can!" she said, smiling. "I'm definitely buying that spyglass, though, because I do think it would be obscured in bad weather."
He pulled her down on the sofa. "That's good," he said distractedly. "I mean—that you can see it in good weather, and that you're buying a spyglass."
She realized that he was preoccupied. "Anders, what's the matter?"
He reached for an opened letter that he had set down on a side table. "I hope you don't mind that I read this. It was addressed to us both."
"Honestly, I don't even mind if you read my mail... but since this has your name on it, of course I don't mind!" She examined it. "This is the symbol of the Seekers of Truth."
"Read it, love."
She did.
.
Your Graces,
I am Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, Right Hand of the Divine. We met last year when Seeker Lucius Corin and I came to Kirkwall to investigate red lyrium usage among the late Meredith Stannard and her picked Templar associates. As you must know, Divine Justinia did not wish for the "mage issue" to be settled by violence and war, but so it seems it must be. She wishes me to tell you that she does not hold ill will for either of you, given the terrible circumstances of 30 Haring 9:36 and 1 Wintermarch 9:37, and prays that you succeed in your war.
.
"Our war," Caitlyn muttered darkly. "Much as I expected it would be." She returned to the letter.
.
For now I wish, first of all, to inform you that I will be your liaison with the Sunburst Throne for the duration of this war, as Sister Leliana, the Left Hand, is busy with other matters on behalf of Her Perfection.
.
Caitlyn sighed. "'Busy.' I'm sure she is, but this is what I feared. Our friendship is... I hope not over... but badly wounded. I wish she understood."
Anders gave her a quick, gentle hug.
.
Second, I must inform you of the true situation with the Templar Order and the Seekers of Truth. I am sure some inkling of the truth has reached you in Kirkwall, but one does not know how such events are exaggerated by rumor and wartime propaganda.
As it currently stands, roughly a third of the Templars in the lands of the Andrastian Chantry have joined forces with the schism and pledged themselves to the pretender, the true anti-divine, "Fidelia," the traitor Elthina as Your Graces know her better than I. Most of these have migrated to Starkhaven, Tantervale, or Hercinia, including, I am sorry to say, former Knight-Vigilant Trentwatch, who escaped from the Templar Hospice on 14 Cloudreach of this year.
The situation is worse than that, however. Of the remaining number, Most Holy does not believe that all are truly loyal to her. The majority of this remaining number are located at Circles that have not voted for independence, or local chantries closely affiliated with such Circles. It is unclear to us if they would retain their loyalty to the Divine if those Circles did vote to rebel and join your army.
.
"You know," Caitlyn said heatedly, "so many people think it's such an awful thing for mages to rebel against the Circle system. They call us 'apostates' for it. But the Templars are just as likely to do it! What's the slur for them?"
Anders growled in agreement. Caitlyn read on.
.
And this brings me to the situation of the Seekers of Truth. It is true that most of my Order has not rebelled against the Divine. However, Most Holy still cannot effect an Exalted March against the schism with the Seekers. Former Lady Seeker Nicoline did indeed choose Lambert van Reeves as her successor, and although Most Holy is concerned about him, she believes it would incite a mass revolt by the majority of Seekers if she overruled the wishes of Nicoline, as it is tradition for the outgoing leader of the Order to choose a successor.
The situation with my Order is very delicate. Lord Seeker Lambert has commanded the Seekers to replace the schismatic Templars in overseeing and controlling the Circles. This is his command: Prevent the rest of the southern Circles from holding independence votes and joining your army, by any means necessary. Divine Justinia, once again, feels unable to overrule the Lord Seeker's command to the Order, as she fears it would trigger a mass revolt, leaving her extremely vulnerable in Val Royeaux without Templar, Seeker, or—in this scenario—even mage support. One of the matters that Sister Leliana is concerned with is the instability in the Orlesian Empire between Empress Celene and her cousin Grand Duke Gaspard. The political scene could become deadly for Her Perfection.
For all of these reasons, I am afraid I must tell Your Graces, you cannot expect an Exalted March against Tantervale or Starkhaven, or any armed support from the Chantry in your defense. She does pray for your victory and wishes me to keep you informed of matters in the Chantry and its military Orders.
I should also inform you that, although I am myself a Seeker, as Right Hand of the Divine, I am under Divine Justinia's direct command and not that of Lord Seeker Lambert.
I hope to visit Kirkwall soon and converse in person with you about certain matters, which I do not entrust to writing.
Very sincerely,
Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast
P.S. If Your Graces wish, you may tell Varric Tethras of my visit. You do not have to, of course.
.
Despite the dire subject matter of much of this letter, Caitlyn could not help but laugh at the postscript. Anders smiled at the expression on her face, rightly guessing what had provoked it, but her laughs faded as quickly as his smile did.
"Well," she said, setting the letter back on its table, "there we are. That's as bad as I feared it was."
He nodded gravely. "I don't want Templars coming here and winning the war for us, of course. They would be able to demand what they wanted if they were the ones to make the difference, and I don't trust Seekers either. But the fact that Van Reeves is trying to keep other Circles from rebelling too..." He shook his head. "Justinia ought to arrange for him to be assassinated. If we can't get help from somebody else, it'll be a tough war, and that is bad for her too. It's in her interest to get rid of him. He's not acting as an ally."
"You know how I feel about Justinia's caution. I guess she will never change, even after her caution led to Meredith brazenly defying her and Meredith's supporters in the north declaring a schism after we killed her."
"I guess she won't." He sighed. "We're on our own."
Notes: Elthina was barely mentioned in this chapter (it's meant to be an "establishment of the situation" kind of chapter), but she'll be the principal villain, and I justify writing her as one for a lot of reasons. In canon, she never opposes one thing Meredith does at the Circle, nor does she command Meredith to let a new Viscount/ess be chosen. I've also got a dark but plausible take on her conduct in the Qunari occupation, which you read earlier in this fic: namely, that she was trying to get Dumar killed in order to seize power via Meredith.
According to Gaider, Ferelden is the size of "England." I'm assuming he meant literally England rather than Great Britain, and if so, the passage between Highever and the Wounded Coast at this location is only about 35 miles/56 km across. The patrol is eminently doable over that distance, and watches across the Waking Sea are doable from an observatory 650 feet above the sea.
