Notes: This is a transitional chapter, but I rather like it. It also features a lot of dark foreshadowing about some of the directions the next arc of the story will take. Buckle up.
Song: Blind Guardian – "Dark Clouds Rising." Their 2019 album Legacy of the Dark Lands has become a big inspiration too, and will appear again, because it is about the 30 Years' War with a secret twist about dark magic and historical figures as incarnations of spiritual powers. And since my story is an AU Mage-Templar War with a religious schism as the twist, well, there you have it.
This chapter features a NSFW love scene in the middle. Anders and Caitlyn needed one. It has been a while for them, at least on-page.
Chapter 71: Dark Clouds Rise from the Crypt
The Grand Cathedral of Starkhaven.
Elthina had seen Sebastian in a fury before. Years ago, in Kirkwall, he had been determined to seek revenge on the Flint Company, the mercenaries who had been contracted by parties unknown to murder his family. He and Elthina had had a vicious shouting match about it at the Kirkwall Chantry early in Dragon 9:32, but she had finally swayed him to understand that the mercenaries were mere tools—that, while killing civilians for gold was evil, they had not been the ones who had it in for his family, and he was unlikely ever to learn who had. It might even be a temptation that the Maker put in Sebastian's path to see if he would break his vows. At last, Sebastian had seen her point of view and had repented of his rage. And because he had not become consumed with the vendetta, thereby risking himself, he was alive and free to rescue Elthina when she had been imprisoned. Because he had exercised fidelity and restraint, the Crown of Starkhaven had come to him after all.
Elthina was not a big believer in signs and portents. But she did think the Maker occasionally used them, though His children did not necessarily know what they meant or even that an event was a portent until later. She now thought there had been one that day in Kirkwall when they had had their big fight. Just after Elthina had made Sebastian settle down, Caitlyn Hawke herself had walked into the Chantry, demanding Circle Healers be released to assist her infamously rebellious husband. Had she come just a little earlier, she would have interrupted the fight Elthina and Sebastian were having. Hawke had made a deal with Mother Petrice already by 9:32 Dragon, Elthina was convinced. She might well have tried to cut a similar deal with Sebastian, perhaps agreeing to kill his family's assassins like the violent thug she was in exchange for his support. The Maker had delayed Hawke just long enough to prevent that, but it did seem portentous now.
Sebastian had been angry many times after that. But he had never again directed his ire at Elthina herself, certainly not after the clerics of Starkhaven, Tantervale, and—alas!—Hercinia had elected her Divine. That was different today. It was like seeing Sebastian from seven years ago.
"The captains disobeyed us!" he roared. "They turned tail like cowards!"
"What were they supposed to do, Sebastian?" she snapped back, rising from her seat to stare at him. "Continue to Markham, when the flags displayed at Hercinia's harbor made it abundantly clear what had happened? What would that have achieved but death in vain?"
He snarled in anger, seeing her point but still infuriated—and terrified—about the defeat. "Very well—but I do not understand why you are not retaliating with massive force!" He rose from his chair and paced about the small private audience chamber that had long ago been set aside for Divine visits—and still was, just a different Divine. He whirled around and faced Elthina, his face contorted with rage. "Even losing Hercinia, even with our Templar numbers still not rebuilt, we could do it. Starkhaven and Tantervale combined have a population of over a million people. Starkhaven's militia currently is a fraction of the city's potential military strength. We could institute a draft and field an immense army, at least ten thousand!" He clenched his fist as his face reddened. "We could end this war!"
Elthina knew this side of Sebastian existed—rash, vindictive, impulsive. It was disappointing to see it so easily flaring up again. He could field the army he said he could—and he could then, apparently, throw it away like a child smashing a toy in anger. "That," she said scornfully, "is a rash action that you are threatening out of temper, not strategic thinking, Sebastian."
This only enraged him further. "It is a strategy!" he insisted. "The strategy is to use the forces we have and end this war!"
Elthina stared back at him coldly. "Suppose you implemented your draft and got your army of ten thousand or more. What would you do with it? How would you use it?"
"I would march it to the gates of Kirkwall! If the apostates can destroy ships, then I will simply send it by land and lay siege to Kirkwall's defenses. They are weak. You and I both know this."
"They are not as weak as they used to be. Hawke has been investing in defenses for the walls. And honestly, Sebastian, you are smarter than this. This is not the intelligent planning of a man who sneaked almost undetected into prison and rescued me. This is the ranting of a child in temper." She glared back at him. "You were always impetuous and inclined to act irrationally on your angry impulses. This time it would be ruinous."
Sebastian nearly erupted in fury. "What is the problem with this plan, then? The apostates can destroy our ships, but what can they do against an army of cavalry and infantry besieging their walls?"
"Hercinia's army was destroyed by that same force!" Elthina shouted. "Of course they can fight on land!"
"But Hawke needed her war machines and she needed to fight in an open field," he reasoned. "She was not defending city walls from inside them. It was a pitched battle outside the walls. And she had Markham's militia too."
Elthina calmed down. This was the intelligent side of Sebastian. This was the reasonable side, the side that thought instead of just lashing out. She could talk this side down. "You are correct that Hawke has never had to defend against a siege as the party besieged," she acknowledged, "and your idea of besieging Kirkwall does have merit. A great deal of merit."
Sebastian nodded, calming himself further.
"But we cannot simply throw a newly drafted, green army at the gates and hope for the best. We need a plan that utilizes all of our forces well. I urge you to wait. We have been blessed with a vast and healthy population. We certainly could field an army of at least ten thousand with a draft. By all means, implement it and begin training them."
Sebastian smiled. "I shall do so."
"But because we are so blessed," she continued, "we must be careful with our forces. We need more Templars, both kinds." And we have lost a training site for Red Templars now. "We will act when the time is right, Sebastian. That is not the present time. Let us build up all of our forces first."
Sebastian's temper flared again. "Hawke cut through our Templars like a knife through butter," he snapped. "She and Anders target them mercilessly. They hate them! They claim that our Templars want to exterminate mages, but they are the ones who want every Templar dead who doesn't kiss their feet!"
"Hawke cut through our Templars because they came too close to shore at Kirkwall's harbor. From what I have heard, they gave her army a good fight to take the Hercinia Chantry. But I have learned from the mistake at the harbor and I do not intend to repeat it next time."
He paced around again, then turned to face her. "While you wait for Templars to train and acclimate to lyrium, our side is losing this war! You keep your plans to yourself, while Hawke's side grows stronger militarily and in the propaganda war! We lost an ally! We were stingy with forces—and I include myself in that! We failed to protect Margravine Arriata and now she is dead, hanged as a traitor and a heretic by her own people!" He glared at Elthina. "I could just institute a draft and order my troops south anyway. I am the Prince of Starkhaven."
Elthina thought she had talked him down. Evidently not. "That may be," she snapped, "but I am the Orthodox Divine." She glared back. "Even though I never wanted it, the Maker required this of me, and since this is a holy war—an Exalted March against rebel apostates, in all but name—you are obliged to obey me in matters of war. Do not make me do something that I do not want to do, Sebastian," she warned. "Since I believed that you needed to take the Crown of Starkhaven, I gave you a dispensation from your vows as a brother. I can take it away just as easily."
Sebastian crumpled, all the anger gone from his face, replaced with shock. "You... you would do that?" he gasped.
"I do not want to, but if I, ex cathedra, determine that your reign is not serving the Maker's purposes... I will do what He tells me is best."
Sebastian was horrified and ashamed. To think that my temper, my anger, so disappointed her that she would consider removing me from the throne for the greater purposes of the Maker, he thought. I will not have that. I took the throne for the Maker and Andraste. I will serve their ends, always. To Elthina he said, penitently, "I am deeply sorry, Your Perfection. I did not realize that my behavior had given you such doubts. I will follow your guidance."
Elthina smiled and nodded, approaching him and laying a hand gently on his shoulder to let him know that all was forgiven. "I do have plans, Sebastian," she said, all threat now gone from her tone. "I urge patience and calm. The idea of besieging Kirkwall directly is a good one; we just need to do it at the right time. Now is not that time."
Sebastian nodded submissively.
"There are also other plans in the works that could crush the apostates' morale and leave the false Divine's followers foundering and panicked, with a single stroke."
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What plans, Most Holy?"
Elthina considered for a moment actually telling him. He might be hard enough now to accept and understand it. But that instinct faded rapidly. Sebastian found certain things distasteful. He was a very traditionally-minded man, preferring to settle matters in single combat, rightful execution, or on the battlefield. Better that he only learn of these plans when they were a fait accompli and she could persuade him of their necessity from a victorious position. "You will understand when the time comes," she finally said.
He scowled. "You do not wish to tell me. Very well. I will trust to your wisdom, which is obviously greater than mine. But I do wish you would confide in me, Most Holy."
Kirkwall.
Caitlyn returned to Kirkwall with a force only somewhat reduced in size. A majority of the people who had fallen were not mages, and... she hated thinking this way, but the brute fact was that they were easier to replace. Mages had to be born, and they could not fight until they were at least sixteen or so. Non-magical soldiers were made, and training could be relatively quick. She had also acquired new mages in the fifteen Hercinia battlemages who had chosen to return with her rather than stay in their city, and the remaining handful of Markham mages who had finally decided to rethink their loyalty to the Circle.
Markham had released the Hercinian common soldiers back home, while holding the officers, as Caitlyn had ordered. After she realized that the Markham militia had to send some of themselves to protect Hercinia until their neighbor rebuilt its militia, she amended her command regarding the prisoners. The officers could serve in Markham and make themselves useful, instead of being mouths to feed. But they were absolutely not allowed to leave the city or command others. If they served in Markham, it would be as grunts.
It was hard to see the allied forces break up and go their separate ways. It had been a thrilling thing to see mages and soldiers from Kirkwall, Markham, Rivain, and a handful of Fereldans taking up arms together. They were formidable as a whole. It hurt to divide that force. But as the siege of Markham had proven, her allies needed defenders too.
After they had docked and disembarked at Kirkwall, but before she and Anders could begin their return to the Keep, one of the Fereldan officers approached her with Aveline.
"Your Grace," Aveline said formally, as she always did when speaking to Caitlyn or Anders in an official capacity, "the Fereldan officers wish to know if they are to be sent back to Ferelden or remain here."
Caitlyn turned to the army captain. "I still have the Coterie to contend with. Until Aveline can say confidently that Guard corruption is no longer a serious problem, I would rather have the militia making Coterie-related arrests." She suppressed a grimace at the memory of Hercinia's City Guard being infiltrated enough by a merchant guild to actually effect a coup. It had been useful there to avoid mass civilian bloodshed that would have made the rebel mages look terrible, but she had not liked the implications for herself on the home front.
Aveline had not liked having military officials making civilian arrests, but after seeing what she had seen in Hercinia, she saw Caitlyn's perspective. "You heard the Viscountess," she said.
Caitlyn and Anders were accosted next by the trio of Varnell, Orwald, and Keili. They all bore bloodthirsty, zealous looks in their eyes. How many people have been waiting for us at the harbor? Caitlyn thought in annoyance.
"Your Grace," Varnell said, "we heard about the conquest of Hercinia. Her Grace the Grand Cleric offers the aid of the Kirkwall Suprema in rooting out the last of the schismatic heretics hiding out there."
"In Hercinia? She wants to send Suprema officials there?"
"Aye, Your Grace. Not all, of course, but some. It obviously has a far bigger problem with the scum than Kirkwall does."
Anders looked visibly relieved at the proposal. Caitlyn immediately liked it too. Better there than here, especially since Varnell had a point—there was a bigger problem there, as it had actually been in schism hands. The only wrinkle was whether the new Margravine would like Petrice's heretic-hunters stalking about her city, but there was a way for Caitlyn to avoid blame for that.
"The Grand Cleric doesn't need my permission," she said with a shrug. "She should coordinate with the Grand Cleric of Hercinia, when one is sent. I assume the new Margravine is working with Divine Justinia to reinstate the real Chantry in her city... since they were all either killed or fled two years ago."
"Grand Cleric Petrice merely wanted to be sure that you were all right with a reduced Suprema presence here in Kirkwall," Keili put in.
"It's quite all right," Caitlyn said, trying not to let her relief show. "Hercinia needs it more, as Varnell said."
Go, she thought as they finally departed, and, blessedly, no one else had a demand for her at the harbor. The mages who lived at the Gallows had already returned there, and the fighters—mage or not—who lived in the city proper had dispersed as well. She, Anders, Aveline, and their personal guard finally headed back to the Keep.
"Mother!"
"Mama!"
"Rowf!"
Caitlyn and Anders were accosted by the rushing of their children and the mabari. Baldwin was eleven years old, almost exactly the same age as Mal, and he was in fine health, but Caitlyn had decided against using him as a war dog in the battle. Better for him and Ser Pounce-a-Lot to have ended up in the hands of loyal guards if Kirkwall had fallen under attack.
But all was well. The ginger tomcat did not make a sound until he reached Anders, but then he let out a loud mew as he rubbed on Anders' boots. Mal was hugging each of his parents in turn as Anders picked up his toddler daughter.
"I'm so glad you're back," the boy said huskily as he pressed himself against his mother. "We were hearing word by raven, but it was always delayed, of course... and we just worried..."
"Naturally," Caitlyn said, ruffling his hair. It was continuing to redden with time. It was not quite as red as her own but was on the way. He had been blond like Anders at birth, but babies' hair could be temporary. Jo Beth still was blonde, though; her hair was not changing color at all and she was approaching her third birthday, so it probably wouldn't deviate from the golden color of her father's.
"Do we really have Hercinia too?" Mal asked.
"We do!" Caitlyn said, smiling. "We have liberated a city, gained an ally, set mages free... and without needing to attack the city itself. It's a good thing."
"The enemy is going to be very angry," he said quietly, so that Jo Beth would not hear.
Caitlyn and Anders exchanged unhappy glances at that. It was true. There was no wishing that away. "They will," she confirmed sadly.
"They might attack Kirkwall again, since Markham didn't work out."
The adults exchanged another grim look. Their son was far too smart. "We're going to prepare the city for that," Caitlyn said, "and we have people who would give us warning. Scouts in the Vimmark Pass. Lighthouse Point."
"Fenris and Isabela are at Lighthouse Point," Mal continued worriedly. "I hope nothing happens to them."
"Isabela has the fastest ship in our fleet," Caitlyn reassured him. "And she and Fenris are masterful at both fighting and surviving."
"We're going to continue to build up defenses," Anders added. "Remember this, son—we have not lost a battle. We've taken territory from them. We'll be ready for them."
A week later.
Caitlyn was having a recurrence of a nightmare. It had reared its ugly head a few times since she had first had it, Wintermarch 9:33, the night before she had gone to the Vimmarks to deal with an ancient magister. She understood some of its symbolism now all too well. The diadem of Kirkwall, dripping with blood. The path of bloody footprints.
She still did not understand the significance of the huge green hole in the sky in this dream, and she had had the wretched dream often enough to know to avoid a certain path that always led to a vision of Anders in peril against a massive demon. But she could never extricate herself from the entirety of the vision. She just had to keep her head—easier for a mage, since they dreamed utterly lucidly—and force the surroundings to become something else. In the Fade, Caitlyn tried to focus on something—anything—else.
The memory of her sister swam to her thoughts. That was not exactly what she had wanted... but she would make do. There were far worse dreams than those about reuniting with lost loved ones. Sometimes they could even be nice, and on rare occasions, startlingly real and comforting, as if the soul of the departed actually had briefly come to the Fade. She focused on pleasant memories of Bethany, the two of them practicing their spells together in Lothering, Bethany teasing her about her burgeoning relationship with Anders. How insecure I was in those days, Caitlyn thought. She helped me to become more comfortable, just as he did. The form of her sister seemed to glimmer in the Fade—
A piercing shriek, filled with horror and agony, interrupted the forming dream—and began to tear Caitlyn from the Fade altogether. It was coming from the physical world, then...
Anders...
Caitlyn awoke in the darkness of their bedroom, heavy drapes sheltering her and Anders in their bed. He thrashed violently beside her. Bright blue-white light blazed from his eyes, filling the cavernous canopy bed with a cold glow. Anders—Justice—gazed ahead, shrieking and thrashing.
"You will not harass him, monster! I am Justice and I will not—"
"Anders! Wake up!" she exclaimed, shaking him by the shoulders.
"You! Are you one of his? There is something there! I sense it!"
Caitlyn snarled at the bizarre accusation from Justice. "It's me! Caitlyn! I'm not whatever was in your nightmare!" She grabbed his shoulders and gripped him harder. "Wake up!"
For another five seconds he glared at her. It was frighteningly clear, and heartbreaking, that Justice took her for a stranger, convinced she was a threat—but then something changed. She saw the instant that the spirit remembered who she was and softened to her. "Forgive me," Justice murmured quietly before ceding control back to her husband. Blue eyes turned amber again.
Anders was staring at her, horrified, sweat forming all over his body. He wore nothing right now but his smalls, so it was beading visibly on his skin. "Oh, Maker," he cried, appalled and terrified. "Love—I'm sorry—" He turned away, sobbing, bowing his head and closing his eyes to avoid looking at her.
She reached out to him, pulling him close, cuddling him in her arms. She kissed the top of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair as she pressed his head against her silk-covered bosom. "It's all right," she soothed. "You didn't do anything to me. Justice remembered who I was. It's fine."
He shuddered in her arms, continuing to shake and sob. She stroked his hair and gave him light kisses until he was finally able to speak. When he raised his head to look in her face, his eyes were wide with horror.
"That dream," he said in a whisper. "I... have had bad dreams before, as a Grey Warden... but that one..."
"It was a Warden dream?"
"It must have been," he said, "but I've never had one like this before. They were usually nonspecific." He shivered again and looked deeply into her eyes. "Darkspawn, Broodmothers, horrible scenes from the Deep Roads. This, though—this was a specific darkspawn. It was tormenting me."
Caitlyn gaped at him, appalled. "It was torturing you in the Fade? Oh, Anders..." She hugged him again. "You've been safe here with me all along, sweetheart. It didn't happen. It wasn't real."
He heaved a breath. "It felt very real. And it was torturing me, but with its voice. It spoke and it just somehow... made me want to do things. It's like it was trying to use my Warden's Taint to control me." He shuddered again. "And when Justice and I resisted it, it punished me in my head."
Caitlyn's heart sank at these words. A horrible idea had filled her thoughts. "Anders," she whispered, barely able to speak the idea, "could it be..." She resisted saying it. "You said once that you think Justice can prevent the Calling, and of course, you took Lady Cousland's potion..."
"It's not the Calling," he said with such confidence that it calmed that fear for Caitlyn. "The Calling is when a Warden hears an Archdemon's song and understands its commands. The potion your brother and I—and others—took breaks our link to the Old Gods and slows the progression of the Taint almost to nothing. And that's on top of what, yes, Justice can do in his own right. It's not the Calling," he said again with absolute assurance. "This was no Old God; it was a darkspawn..." He broke off, shivering.
Caitlyn hugged him in a gentle embrace until he was able to continue.
He swallowed. "The potion was partly based on the blood magic research that the Architect did. He was the one that figured out how to sever the link with the Archdemons' songs. The consequence was that it made a Warden more susceptible to hearing other powerful Tainted voices."
Caitlyn racked her brains for that memory. Yes, she recalled, that was the side effect Warden-Commander Cousland had said the potion had.
"And in this nightmare... I think it might've been the Architect. I'm not sure," he added, eyes still wide. "It didn't look or sound exactly like him, but things are distorted and different in the Fade..." He gazed at her. "But Caitlyn. The Architect is dead. I killed him. I landed the final blow. I'm certain of it. How could I be hearing his voice? Is it his voice?"
Caitlyn stared at him, horrified. Could it be a coincidence that he had had this nightmare at the same time that she was having hers? The nightmare that she had first had right before she had gone to the Warden fortress in the Vimmarks to kill Corypheus?
"I had a nightmare too," she said in a low voice. "The same one I first had the night before I went after Corypheus. But Anders, Corypheus is dead too. I killed him. I saw his corpse fall to the floor, dead, just as you did with the Architect. But I don't know... how could this be a coincidence?"
He shivered harder than ever. "It probably isn't," he said quietly.
"We think they were Magisters Sidereal," she said, trying to think rationally even though her heart was thumping with anxiety. "The priests of Dumat and Urthemiel. Their memories would be in the Fade even after their deaths." Her stomach churned. "If this is right, there are five still unaccounted for. Could there be another one active, tormenting us to avenge its fallen 'brothers'?"
He grimaced at the thought but had no better ideas. "I'll write to Warden-Commander Cousland tomorrow," he said. "If there is another one active, it's probably harassing her people too. Or it will be. She needs to know."
Anders did write and send his letter to Vigil's Keep the next day. But to Caitlyn's dismay, he kept to himself for much of the day, avoiding her, the children, and the Keep's healing clinic. She did not interfere with him throughout the day, figuring that he needed to work through it, but when he headed for a guest bedroom that night, she put her foot down.
"Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, hands on hips.
"Justice had never menaced you before. How can I know you'll be safe?"
She glared at him. "He didn't menace me! He mistook me briefly but did not threaten me. Then he remembered me and asked me to forgive him. He knows what happened! I'm sure he won't allow it to happen again."
Anders gazed wearily at her. "It had never happened before, either."
"And you think that by keeping yourself away from me, away from Mal and Jo, away from needy patients, that's going to help? Instead of exposing Justice to their positive presence? You think it'll be better for him to interact with no one except yourself and this darkspawn?"
He hesitated, having no answer to that.
Caitlyn reached for his arm, her face softening. He did not resist. She took his arm with hers, smiling, as he allowed her to win. "It was shocking to you and him last night because it was the first time you had ever had such a dream. If you have it again, Maker forbid, at least it won't be shocking. You both will be prepared for it. And you'll be better off if I am there beside you."
"That's true," he granted. He allowed her to pull him close as she opened the door to their bedroom and pulled him inside.
The intimate side of their love life had a lot of variety. Both of them were strong-willed, but they also both had a deep-seated desire for utter trust and vulnerability with each other, since it had been forbidden to him and dangerous to her for so long. When these needs seeped into their intimate activities, the direction those activities took could go either way.
Tonight, Caitlyn could tell that Anders was still uneasy with being "the one on top." The outburst of Justice the night before had shaken him, and for now, he would rather be in her power than have power over her in bed. That was perfectly fine with her. I can make it sweet, she thought as she unbuckled his belt and pulled off his overcoat. I can do it without pain or brutishness.
Soon he was in nothing but his smalls. She decided to take hers off while leaving her nightdress on, a loose thigh-length black silk robe that tied at the waist. Anders stared at her, transfixed with desire, as she pulled down her smalls under it. He was seated on the mattress, gazing with wide eyes and looking rather submissive. But the state of his smalls showed how very eager he was for her to come to him.
She obliged.
Anders gasped involuntarily as his wife shoved him backward on the mattress, pulled the bed drapes closed, and pinned his arms to the bed at the wrists with her hands. He could wrestle free; he was half a head taller and had more muscle, but that was not the point tonight. His eyes fluttered shut as she climbed atop him, straddling his waist, and smirked.
But that smirk did not remain. Caitlyn's expression softened. "You don't need to hide from me," she murmured gently, leaning over to plant kisses on his face and down his neck. She released his hands, allowing him to place them around her waist. They slipped under her robe, soft dry fingertips against sensitive skin. "I won't let anything take you from me," she continued, kissing him, teasing him through his smalls with the grip of her thighs. "I've got you."
Anders opened his eyes and smiled back crookedly. "You take care of me?"
"I do," she purred. She rose, keeping her palms in place on his chest as she pressed her heat to his bulge, his smalls the only barrier between them. "Oh... and there is something to take care of, I think?"
"Uhn," Anders moaned. "Maker, Cait!" He tried to sit up, but her hands kept him down. He tried to pull down his smalls or at least free his hardness from their confines. Her thighs made it difficult but not impossible.
He was trying to reach behind and under her thighs to get his smalls off, and was mostly succeeding. A sigh of relief escaped him at the release of the pressure and confinement. He tried to reposition her from below.
Caitlyn decided to end the torment. She could tease him for longer, but she wasn't feeling that urge right now. She just wanted to be good to him—and, honestly, to herself too. Without making him wait any longer, she untied her robe with a flourish and sank onto him in a single motion. A gasp of relief burst from his lips. He ran his hands down her hips feverishly, driving her wild.
It was just what they both needed, but him especially. The idea that she had physical power over him even on top was an illusion. He was stronger and bigger. So long as they didn't use magic, he could flip her and pin her down if he wanted. He knew that her control right now was illusory, but that was not frightening. The illusion itself provided some comfort, and his awareness of what it was—and the fact that he didn't lose control, that nothing happened, that he didn't hurt her—calmed his fears.
He let her take the lead and ride him, breathing heavily and gasping beneath her as she slid back and forth. They both grew sweaty, eyes wide and increasingly desperate with desire and the need for release. She began breathing heavily too.
"Uhn," Caitlyn groaned. "I love you. Fuck—"
"I am, sweetheart." It burst from his lips fast. They were breathing so hard.
She noted it in her mind, but she could not laugh. She could not do anything—because they both tipped over the edge together.
Later, he was still feeling mildly submissive, because when they cuddled, he let her pull him into her arms and cradle his head against her chest. "I told you," she murmured, kissing the top of his head. "I won't let anything take you, because you are mine. And you won't hurt me."
He believed it. A soft smile formed on his face as he nodded off.
After that, Anders did not avoid interacting with others. He happily played with Jo Beth and practiced spells with Mal. He often visited the healing clinic, and when Caitlyn could spare a moment from her torrent of duties, he was an affectionate, open partner with her in every way. Whatever might trouble him at night, he did not let it tear him from his loved ones during the day again.
Caitlyn could not tell whether he had dreams of the unknown darkspawn again; unfortunately Grey Warden nightmares were fairly common with him, and he was an unquiet, troubled sleeper even—or perhaps especially—with Justice's determination to fight the Fade assaults. He did not say whether a specific Warden dream was of this darkspawn. Caitlyn gathered that he did not want to worry her further until Elissa Cousland wrote back to him.
Four days after he had had the nightmare, he came to her with a grave look.
She instantly assumed it was that letter. "What's wrong, Anders?" she exclaimed, setting down the correspondence she had been writing. "Did the Warden-Commander have bad news?"
"No," he said, "I haven't heard from her yet. It's something else." He did not make her wait or ask. "I've heard from Healers here in the Keep's clinic that we still have a problem with that mage supremacist faction."
Caitlyn glowered angrily. She had wanted to forget about that, hoping that the Mages' Council leaders could shut it down. "What sort of problem? Other than their existence," she added angrily. "But I assume this goes beyond that."
"Yes," he confirmed. "They've reacted to the rules last year to clamp down on them. They've done so by disclaiming the idea of restoring Old Tevinter, and instead claim to be a branch of Lucrosians, just with the belief that mages alone should have political power. An extremist faction of Lucrosians, just as the 'Resolutionists' were extremist Libertarians. And of course, that group that wanted the Circle shop back apparently wants to say 'I told you so.'" He glowered. "The official Lucrosian leadership utterly repudiates them. But they must think that claiming they're really just a type of Lucrosian gets around the ban."
"It doesn't," Caitlyn said sharply. "Lucrosians want to use magic to obtain gold and power. I'm the last mage in Thedas to condemn that, Maker knows. But that is quite different from thinking that they alone should have the right to have those things."
"It gets much worse," he said bluntly. "They aren't hiding anymore. They've declared their existence publicly. It's a matter of time before the general population knows about them, if they don't already."
A shot of fear tore through Caitlyn, followed by anger. What was wrong with these arrogant fools? "Damn them. But I guess if they've gone public, I can hold a public assembly. And it looks like I'll have to."
"There's one more thing. I've been given the name of their leader."
Caitlyn raised her eyebrows. She had a bad feeling she knew...
"I heard from three Healers that it's Grace, the one from Starkhaven."
Caitlyn groaned and exhaled. "I knew it. That woman has been nothing but trouble for us. If I didn't know she had always been like this, I'd think she was planted by Starkhaven to make mages look bad." She recalled something rather unsettling about Grace. "She's tutoring the Trevelyan girl, Alison, at Lady Harimann's. I knew I had a bad feeling about that."
"At the time I urged you not to interfere unless something bad came out about Grace." He chuckled darkly. "Well, guess what?"
Caitlyn was still focused on Lady Harimann. "I offered to help her pick a tutor, but no, she was sure she knew best." She collected herself. "All right. You're right, Anders. I have to interfere. I will not have an innocent girl brainwashed. Lady Harimann will sack Grace, and I will hold an assembly to make it clear that these ideas will not be tolerated, whatever lies their adherents claim about them."
Lady Harimann was affronted when summoned to the Keep and informed that she was required to get rid of the governess for her foster daughter.
"Perhaps there is a history in Ferelden"—she spat the name derisively—"of heads of state meddling in their subjects' household affairs like this, since they have a king. But it goes against the independent tradition of the Free Marches."
Caitlyn was unmoved, except to anger. So much for the boot-licking of your first meeting, she thought with cynical contempt. Ferelden is nothing but "Dog Lord Land" to you once you don't want to feign respect. I can't wait to see the look on your smug face in a moment.
She replied with icy tones. "And you will note that I did not meddle in your household affairs until it came to light that Grace is a seditionist." She gazed levelly at Lady Harimann. "Do you know what she believes, Lady Harimann? She believes that because she is a mage and you are not, she is better than you and you should ideally serve her. No other reason."
A very peculiar expression passed over the noblewoman's face. For a fraction of a second, Lady Harimann looked almost amused. But it was very brief—and then, Caitlyn blinked and the lady's face was back to normal. Had she imagined that look? Had it been there at all?
Caitlyn forced it out of her mind. My paranoia is getting the better of me, she thought. She continued. "I informed the Free Mages last year that this view was damaging to the cause and therefore seditious," she said. "They're lucky I haven't set the Grand Cleric on them for heresy, but I had preferred their existence be kept quiet. Anyway, the independent tradition of the Free Marches doesn't extend to a right to shelter seditionists under one's roof in wartime. I demand that you terminate Grace's employment."
Lady Harimann scowled. "I will do as my Viscountess commands."
Caitlyn and Anders stood at the head of the Gallows assembly chamber, unsmiling. The leaders of the Mages' Council—minus Grace, who had disappeared after her sacking—stood behind them in support. Caitlyn wore her powerful-looking drakeskin armor and dark red silk cape chained across her chest and under one arm. She looked intimidating, which was the point.
"I did not want this assembly to be necessary," she said in frigid tones, sharp green eyes scanning the audience with suspicion. "I had hoped that intelligence and basic decency would prevail—that we, as Free Mages, pioneers and revolutionaries, would universally understand the great responsibility that we have. Everyone is watching Kirkwall and the experiment of mage freedom that we have begun here. I hoped that we would all realize what that meant." She smiled mirthlessly. "Unfortunately, I was mistaken."
Murmurs broke out. Anders spoke up. "Silence," he commanded.
Caitlyn continued with a nod of thanks to him. "Some among us are abusing this trust. They are not content with equality, but demand supremacy." She glared at the crowd. "The ideas of the Potentatists and Restorationists—yes, I know the names," she added as murmurs broke out again, "are offensive to the cause of mage freedom." She glowered darkly. "I speak now to those who hold these ideas. You attempt to hide behind the Lucrosians, a respectable fraternity whose true members are attaining success here as free merchants. A fraternity that promotes work and achievement, not entitlement. The use of one's talents to earn gold and power. To earn it!" she snapped in sudden fury. "You are anathema to this fraternity, as you are anathema to the cause of mage freedom! You risk turning other people against mage rights!"
Anders suppressed a grin. He approved of her anger and found it very attractive when she was righteously riled up.
"You so-called Potentatists and Restorationists are fools and cretins," she snarled as the murmurs rose higher. "You are harming the cause. You're betraying the cause. You are no true Free Mages. You are seditionists and criminals, however you attempt to hide. But I admit, you are in luck today; I don't have a full list of your names. All I can say is this: I had better not hear of you again. You will not like the consequences if I do."
She softened. "To the rest of you, I say this. Many of you have loved ones who are not mages. I do myself. My late father and sister were mages, and so are my husband and our older child. Perhaps our younger child will show magic too someday. But four members of my remaining family are not. I have always known a mixed family, and I never imagined myself better than those relatives because they don't have magic. Now consider that among yourselves are those who do imagine themselves superior to those friends and relatives of yours, not because of any virtue they possess, but because they can cast spells. They even think they should rule your friends and family, again not because they have a gift for it, not because they've earned such a right, not even because they're related to rulers. It's pure arrogance and undeserved entitlement."
She was grimly pleased to see that nearly everyone in the hall was murmuring in deep disapproval of the people she was condemning. The smug gleams in the eyes of the anti-Lucrosian merchant collective were less pleasing, but at least they would be allies.
"That is not what we stand for. It is not what we are fighting for. We're fighting for equality and freedom. We want the same opportunities that every other person in free Thedas has. That can include the opportunity to seek power! But we have to earn it, just as we would earn the right to be named Healers, Arcane Guards, soldiers, merchants. We are born mages. We are born daughters, sons, sisters, brothers. In the world we are trying to create, we will need to become whatever else we want to be." She paused before adding her conclusion, hoping that it landed. "I am a mage and I am your Viscountess and Commander. But my right to rule is that I defended Kirkwall during a dark hour, and a moot of Kirkwall chose me to lead. I used my magical talent for good and was rewarded as many war heroes have been, with a title and power. Equality—that is what we are fighting for."
"Freedom and equality for mages!" someone called out.
"Hail Viscountess Hawke!"
Caitlyn grabbed Anders' hand with hers, just as she had done at the assembly to call them to arms to defend Markham. Anders grinned ear to ear, his nightly tortures momentarily forgotten as he lifted their arms proudly.
"Daddy?"
Jo Beth's voice was plaintive, quiet, scratchy, and rather frightened. The small girl gazed up at Anders with wide, frightened eyes. Behind her stood her brother, who had escorted her to the healing clinic where Anders was observing the Healers and occasionally interceding.
His ears were attuned to the voices of his family, and his daughter's scared voice seemed to carry over the general hubbub of the place. His attention was instantly upon her.
"I feel bad," she complained, eyes still wide with fear. Her childlike hands went to her throat. "It hurts."
"She's hot to the touch," Mal said quietly.
Anders' palm was instantly to her forehead. Yes, she had a high fever. "Open your mouth, sweetie," he said compassionately to her—making sure, before he did anything else, to cast a magical shield in front of his face. If this was what he thought it was, it was very contagious.
Anders groaned at the bright red skin and white streaks in her throat. "Right. You have an infection, Jo." On a hunch, he reached for his son's forehead too and let out a sigh. "You too."
Mal was annoyed and resistant. "My throat hurts a little, but..."
"You have a fever, son. It isn't as bad as Jo's, but you both have it."
"We haven't even been anywhere except the Keep!"
Anders sighed as he ushered his children to an isolation area of the clinic. "That's all it takes. There are dozens of staff. We're probably facing an outbreak in the Keep." He groaned again. "Your mother is not going to like what I'm going to have to do, but she needs to defer to me on health issues. As for you two," he continued, heading to a potions station, "you will be fine, but you will have to take your medicine."
"No! I hate medicine!" Jo Beth declared hotly as Anders returned with a bottle. It was a surprisingly loud outburst for someone with a very inflamed throat. Around the clinic, patients, Healers, and their families chuckled.
Anders glared at her as he approached. The sound of his boots on the floor was as the footsteps of doom to her mind. "Too bad," he said, bottle in hand.
She folded her arms defiantly. "I won't! I wanted magic."
"I'm going to do that. But you most certainly will take your medicine."
Piously, Mal swallowed his dose of the vile concoction, giving his sister a pointed look. Anders rewarded him with a healing spell, which was much more effective on a patient whose throat was coated with the potion.
"You next," Anders said, turning to his rebellious daughter.
Caitlyn, sure enough, did not take the news well that there was apparently a contagious throat infection among the Keep staff—nor Anders' determination that everyone who lived or worked at the Keep had to be quarantined while Healers dealt with the outbreak. It was another frustration for her.
"There's no choice," he said. "We have to stamp it out."
"Poor Jo Beth," she mourned. "She must be in a lot of pain."
"She put up a fight at the clinic," Anders mumbled, "but—yes. They'll both be all right. Good Healers can wipe it out. But, not to scare you, love, but this is a type of infection that, untreated, leads to permanent heart damage."
Caitlyn glowered. "And most families have no way to get effective healing for their children when they have this kind of infection."
"Other than here," he corrected with a gentle, sad smile.
"Other than here," she agreed. "When Carver was a little boy, he had a very bad throat infection. Father knew some healing magic and was able to cure it. But he said to us, later, that he'd had this type of infection himself as a child, and it had not been treated—and he'd later learned at the Circle that his heart was damaged as a result." She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "He might not have lived much longer even if you hadn't been recaptured. We'll never know. But when I think of how common this must be, how many lives are shortened because of the lack of magical healing for something that is easy to heal..."
Anders squeezed her hand. "This and many other illnesses. It's a tragedy. Arguably an atrocity, since the oppression of mages has been deliberate."
"Other than here," she repeated. "We do need to persuade most of the Free Mages to return to their homelands when the war is over, so they can do good everywhere. Not just healing magic. We all have so much to offer. The general quality of life in Thedas could improve so much if we mages were just allowed to use the gifts we're born with."
"It's why we're fighting this war."
"Yes."
Over a week, Mal and Jo recovered from their illness. The little girl did take her medicine, albeit with much complaining.
"She inherited my spirit and Mal inherited yours," Caitlyn said wryly to Anders.
He raised his eyebrows. "I think I have a fighting spirit too."
"I notice that you don't say I have a sweet one too."
He chuckled and pulled her into an embrace. "You do when you're among the people you care about."
She smiled, stroking his face gently. "Mal is still very much your son. A budding Healer, a gentle and compassionate nature... while Jo Beth was apparently born to tell the world 'give me what I want or else.' I told you about how one of my first tries at 'flexing my muscle' as a mage was when I threatened to set my mum's clothes on fire unless she gave me cookies?"
He laughed wickedly. "You did. Brat," he teased.
She shrugged. "I can't argue with that. Runaway."
He smiled, holding her in a loose embrace. "They're a lot better," he said, changing the subject back to its original topic. "No need to fear permanent damage! And the staff members and their families who had the infection have been found and kept in isolation as they receive healing too. It had spread to a couple of battlemages too, but we caught it in time."
"Maker! The last thing we needed was for fighters to be hobbled with heart damage from a malingering infection."
Anders sighed. "I wonder how many wars are lost because of plagues and diseases as much as defeats in battle."
Caitlyn shivered. "Not this one, at least. We have mages. We are mages." Her gaze hardened. "It's wrong to wish this, I suppose, but if a plague struck the enemy, who's fighting to oppress mages, it would be a kind of justice."
With the children recovered from their infections and the Keep starting to open up again, at last, Anders received the response from Elissa Cousland. He and Caitlyn read it privately when it arrived, unable to contain their impatience.
They had both hoped for news, and it definitely had that, but the news it carried was shocking.
.
Your Graces,
Unfortunately, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden, specifically those stationed at Vigil's Keep and Soldier's Peak, are experiencing troubling dreams and compulsions apparently incited by this same darkspawn that Anders mentioned. The Wardens in Gwaren are not affected—yet.
It is interesting that you thought he resembled the Architect, because Your Graces' brother, Warden Carver, thinks he resembles Corypheus. As you know, and I understand that Your Graces share this view, I think the Architect and Corypheus were Magisters Sidereal. Perhaps they all have similar appearances.
My issues with suggestion from this darkspawn go beyond obnoxious Fade-whispers and troubling dreams, and it is of this that I gravely warn you. I had to imprison some Wardens from Jader who came to Soldier's Peak purportedly to learn about my mage Wardens' studies but instead tried to abduct Avernus. You know his skills. It went badly for them, and the two survivors refused to explain their motive. They're currently in their cells, driven mad. Apparently the darkspawn abuses and berates them in their dreams for their failure.
Because I don't want my Wardens to be used in this way, I set Avernus to work on a potion to negate the effects of the previous ones he made. He has told me he is not confident that it can be done, though. His anti-Calling potion is based on the Architect's work, and the Mother said that once "the song" was ended, it could not be restored. Even the Architect couldn't do it.
I am afraid I have no advice. I just wanted to warn you. I hope that Justice's power will help Anders specifically. Viscountess Hawke, I swear by the Maker that your brother will be protected from this darkspawn. Should he ever experience compulsions that he cannot control, he will be gently confined. Since King Alistair never took the potion that makes us Wardens more susceptible to darkspawn like this, I am most concerned about Anders, as a consort to a head of state embroiled in a war. Please stay safe and be wary.
I must also inform you that I am needed in Orlais to support Leliana at an important event this Kingsway. Should there be any serious escalations from the darkspawn at that time, contact Soldier's Peak or Gwaren. I urge you not to share this, as it is secret intelligence and would give the enemy an advantage should it become known in advance. But Divine Justinia intends to give a public speech at an Imperial ball in support of mage rights, following your recent victories. This should greatly aid your cause. It is only a shame that this darkspawn emerged during an otherwise hopeful time.
Respectfully,
Warden-Commander of the Grey Elissa Cousland
.
Anders' eyes were wide. He had never met Avernus, the old blood mage Warden who had created the potions to treat Warden infertility and stop the Calling. But he had heard plenty about the old man's capabilities. The Orlesian Wardens who had thought to kidnap him—what an asinine and yet also horrifying idea, he thought—were not to be envied.
But everything about this news was worrisome. "This is extremely disturbing," he said to Caitlyn as they both finished reading. "I really hope the darkspawn haunting my dreams doesn't drive me to derangement. Or Carver." He added, "Justice means to fight it with everything he has, and I guess... if it bothers Carver too much, he won't be allowed to hurt or endanger himself." He looked sad. "I hope it doesn't come to that, of course."
Caitlyn was very upset. She tossed the letter down on a table, panic filling her. "What is this thing?" she cried, green eyes wide. "It has to be what we all think it is, but how can the Wardens find it? The Architect started a war among the darkspawn. Corypheus manipulated Grey Wardens into trying to release him. This one is doing something subtler."
Anders considered that thoughtfully, trying not to panic. "Unless he isn't," he concluded. "He did try to push those Wardens into abducting Avernus. That isn't subtle." He considered something else. "And if his influence is active here, in Orlais, and in northern Ferelden—but not Gwaren—it might be that he's located somewhere in the Deep Roads under Orlais."
That rational consideration calmed Caitlyn's panic. "Jader," she guessed, since that was where the Wardens had come from who had tried to kidnap the old mage. "It's where I'd start a search."
Anders nodded. "But it seems that Lady Cousland can't do it just yet."
"The Imperial ball," Caitlyn agreed. She glowered at the letter. "Divine Justinia, unfashionably late as usual." A sigh escaped her. "I suppose she did want me to win the war first and then use my victory to change policy. The war isn't won, of course, but the trajectory seems clear after the fall of Hercinia."
"I just hope that her speech does help us instead of asking both sides to give something up," he growled. A flicker of Justice's light passed over his neck. "Because I'm not giving up a thing we've achieved for mages here."
"Nor am I," Caitlyn agreed firmly. "If her speech helps us, excellent. If she tries to placate and compromise with people who literally split from the Chantry because they hate even her mediocre degree of reformism... well, frankly, she can dither all the way to the Maker's side, because that's where it'll take her." Anders' eyes widened at that dark comment. "Either way, we continue fighting. On all fronts."
Notes: Anders stayed at home in Legacy because of Mal's young age (chapter 29), so he wouldn't recognize Corypheus. It's canon that Corypheus can influence Wardens in physical proximity, and I'm not changing that, but by taking this potion, Elissa's Wardens have become more vulnerable than the Fereldans are in game canon. And if you have Avernus alive, it's odd to me that Corypheus wouldn't be interested in him—very interested indeed.
Denerim has 70,000 people, and it's implied that Kirkwall, Tantervale, and Starkhaven are all rather larger. With a draft, I think Starkhaven and Tantervale could field a combined army of 10,000+.
Regarding the throat infection—yes, it's strep throat. And yes, it's now my headcanon that Malcolm Senior had rheumatic heart disease and that is why he died so young in canon. (He might have lived a little bit longer in this AU if Anders had not been captured, but probably not much longer. The damage was done.) It was a slice-of-life bit that I thought showed another reason why mages should be free: healing for everyone who wants it.
What could the schism's agents be up to? You'll find out next chapter. Or you can read Asunder and make a highly informed guess. I have an outline that allows the big Asunder events to occur without major modification required.
