Thanks go out to CherryJamOnToast, Shadeslayer113, and Efion63, who have encouraged and supported my meager efforts.
For some, the language, particularly those epithets you may find offensive, is there for a reason.
Temple of Sacred Ashes - Conclave Begins
The Burden of Conceit
The Qunari guards inspected every person entering the Temple. They did not give two shits about the Conclave, but they did like the hefty wages it paid. Although having so many mages close by prompted them to weigh their purses regularly. Gold somehow reassures when fears arise.
From the Qunari perspective, all the characters entering or leaving the Temple were peculiar, some more than others, some downright creepy. The Templars' pomposity was only matched by the mages' sense of superiority, bookended by the overwhelming disdain of the Chantry folk. They were all glad for the refuge offered by the Maiden down in Haven, and the pool for who first got to bed Flissa was handsome, but none had claimed it.
The small group that now approached the servant's entrance guard post was as bizarre a collection as any the guards had seen. They were all hooded and dressed alike; the leader was two full heads taller than the others, almost as tall as a Qunari. No flesh was visible, only cloaks and black gloves - all carried a black staff but the leader. If this group was going for ominous, they had gone over the top.
"Make way for the honor guard of the Divine, courtesy of the Gray Wardens of Weisshaupt Fortress." Once-Warden intoned in his flat Orlesian voice.
The Warden had joined the Wardens because of magic. Years ago, during his Chevalier training, his latent magical talent had revealed itself in a moment of distress. This revelation was an ugly surprise, given he was an adult when it occurred. His magic created serious challenges; he would have to go to a Circle, of course. Forewarned that this meant he would be made tranquil because of his age, he believed he would be too old to train; hence tranquility would be a mercy. The Warden did not see it as mercy at all; he had already lost everything because he was a mage; to become tranquil would mean he would also lose himself. He bribed a Templar and ran to the wardens waiting to enter Ferelden. He fell to his knees at the feet of Warden-Commander Fontaine and pled for the joining. Fontaine was impressed with his skill at arms, and the warden mages thought they could train him; such a warden would be unique, trained with both sword and magic.
Not long ago, Warden could tell you of his beloved wife and children, of his horse Vesper. Now all Once-Warden could speak of was the whispering voices in his once fertile and capable mind, all the voices telling him to obey, to worship the creature who led him. Similar stories might have been heard from the other Once-Wardens in the group if they still had mind enough to speak. All were simply vessels for their master's malice and will.
Once-Warden's face was devoid of emotion - hidden by a hooded cloak. The Quinary guards had no orders to deny odd people entry, just to search and announce them to the next ring of guards. They had no reason to fear the strange assemblage before them, but somehow, they did.
Better to let their commander deal with them; they gave Once-Warden directions on where to meet their commander; it was just down the stairs from the Divines office. Easy to find; just look for all the preening fools.
Once-Warden thanked the guards, the tall figure moved through the door, followed by ten Once-Wardens. Not one could remember their own names.
Along the Pilgrims Path
Lysette took a moment to catch her breath; the heavy pack cut deep into her shoulders. Stretching her aching back, she looked up toward the Temple of Sacred Ashes high above; the stonework was genuinely ancient, weathered, gray, even foreboding – and beautiful. Perched above the massive double doors of dark wood and iron was a dazzling statue of painted white marble; it was of Divine Justinia. Some would have thought it tasteless to bring a figure of oneself to such a place. Still, it lifted Lysette's heart, 'Perhaps this exceptional woman could save us all from our folly.' Abruptly her foot slipped in the mud, and she instinctively reached to catch herself; when she looked back at the icon above her, it was gone. Only then did she realize it must have been the Divine herself!
She smiled even under the brutal weight of the pack. She trudged on, only a few hundred feet more to climb. Once freed of her burden, she knew her duties would genuinely begin, but that did not matter. She was a part of something greater, a new beginning, a renewal of all she had prayed to be a part of, a rebirth of all she loved.
On she walked, step after step for a seeming eternity, finally reaching the portico of the Temple itself. Her Knight-Commander stood, waiting; the smile on his face was as unusual as a gentle rain in the desert. It was so incongruous with his usual features that it was as if he wore an Orlesian mask.
"So, you finally decided to join us? You seem to have difficulty following the simplest instructions recruit. I distinctly recall tasking you with the delivery of these supplies at the break of dawn, not midday. You will take a double watch for your tardiness." He knew full well that his orders had been impossible, given that she had watch until dawn.
"My apologies Sir, I was delayed. I will redouble my efforts. I have delivered the pack you assigned me." She also knew that he knew she could not possibly have fulfilled his order, but she kept this to herself.
"Well enough, empty the bag in the ditch over there." He gestured to the edge of the road. The smile began to twist, beginning to show the contempt he truly felt.
"Sir? As you command, Sir." Confused, Lysette saluted and then carried the load the last few feet, glad to be rid of the pain it caused her. The straps bit deep as she attempted to shift the weight off her back and shoulders without dropping the contents, trying to bring the bag down to the ground with as much grace as possible – she failed. The kit, heavy for even a man of her size, could not be removed without assistance; assistance she was not offered. The strap slipped from her shoulders, Lysette's exhausted muscles could not compensate, and down went the bag with her body thrown in the other direction. Luckily, the pack fell free of her; it did find the ground to be less yielding than Lysettes flesh and bone. The bag burst open along every seam; she looked on as half her body weight in broken stone poured from the pack.
"That was clumsy of you recruit; I'll dock your pay for the pack. Now I trust you learned your lesson? Go care for my horse; it is in the stables; be sure to wash him and groom him well." Knight-Commander Syclare turned and walked away without a second thought of whether the young mud-covered recruit was injured. It mattered little to him; the uncommon smile had changed into a sneer, an expression with which his face was more familiar.
Lysette sat for a few moments, trying to marshal the energy to move. She looked at the stones, and if she were younger, she might have considered crying. 'Learned a lesson?' She knew what this was about; days earlier, she had expressed an opinion that perhaps, just perhaps, it was possible that the templars at Kirkwall might have been excessive in their treatment of the mages. Possibly, if someone of rank and authority could even now investigate, maybe the mages would accept a review of the orders' actions before the ugly events that led to the fall of the Kirkwall Circle. That opinion had been met with silence from those who she thought were her friends, that grew to indifference and eventually open hostility. Someone must have reported it up the chain of command. 'All this for showing a little humility and humanity, you would think our Knight Commander had never heard of the Chant of Light.' Looking again at the remnants of the bag, she began to rise, very, very slowly. Clearly, if he had heard of the chant, he had not understood it. She began to move slowly down the hill away from the Temple toward the stables.
Weight of A Name
Dorothea, for she would always be just Dorothea, stood on the balcony so motionless she might have been stone. From her vantage point, Dorothea could see a young templar struggling up the hill below. She was near the Temple now, near enough for Dorothea to know that it was a young woman. Dorothea had no idea why the girl was struggling with a load that was clearly too much for her. She knew the Templar Order; it was likely some ridiculous punishment, which was as undoubtedly undeserved as deserved, and well above whatever infraction the young girl had made. Dorothea also knew that even if she knew the details, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it, even if all had been as it was. Brutality, in the guise of piety, had become the foundation of much of the Templar order.
The wind was so cold it could turn her to ice, but she was anything but frozen. Beyond the girl, in the valley beneath Dorothea, were two streams of beings stretching away from the Temple toward the village of Haven below. From this height, they blended into ribbons stretching into the distance. Dorothea pondered the sight, perhaps not a ribbon of individual people but more of two monstrous millipedes - one of black and gray the other of silvers and golds glinting in the sun. Occasionally one or the other would give off a flash of light from reflected sun or glowing staff as they all made their way toward the massive Temple. The thought gave her no comfort.
"How in the world am I going to get them to talk when they do not walk on the same side of the path!" Dorothea abruptly turned her back on the balcony and toward the two women waiting patiently in her makeshift office. She looked at her Hands; she thought of these two very different women who were dearer to her than her own actual hands.
Her Right Hand stood straight and sure, a magnificent example of a warrior. Dorothea often admired Cassandra for the life she wished she had led. 'What must it be like to be able to decide every problem with a single movement, a swift and sure action.' The thought captivated her as she moved toward her desk. 'An action which meant life and death certainly, but with a finality that I can only wish to know.' She sighed and slowly sat down; her arthritis was not helped by the cold, damp conditions of the Frostbacks. Her healer repeatedly tried to get her to wrap up in a warmed blanket, but how would she look then? She knew well that the vultures were already circling. "Like a dried-up old crone."
"Excuse me, your Holiness?" Leliana asked, she had not moved from the lounging couch she was reclining on.
Dorothea just smiled; she had known Leliana for a very, very long time. She had saved the girl's life some twenty years before, 'Andraste! Has it really been that long? Perhaps a half dozen more or less? Almost certainly more.' Dorothea, I am just Dorothea, always just Dorothea, Justinia V is a title, an affectation of a person rather than a name, again she absentmindedly repeated her mantra. The cold, hardwood of the chair seemed to dig into her bottom more and more these days. 'Maybe I will get a cushion.'
"I am sorry, Leliana, I was thinking to myself, and my thoughts came out. A sign of my dotage coming on, I am afraid." She had known Leliana so long that she could be honest with the girl, although she was a girl no longer. No longer the innocent young woman, but innocence was relative, wasn't it? How long had it been since she had ministered to Leliana's ailing mother and made the promise to watch over the child, to keep her in the Maker's way. Dorothea had tried, but the best-laid plans. Leliana had caught the attention of Marjolaine – was groomed, cultivated, and trained to be one of the most dangerous weapons ever to call Thedas home. 'I am going to have to find a way to help her back, come back to being just Leliana.' The thought was swept from her mind, however, by the Seeker.
"Nonsense!" the shout was out of Cassandra's mouth before she realized it. The outburst caused Dorothea and Leliana to snap their heads toward the woman who had initially captured Dorothea's attention. Cassandra brought her right hand to her mouth, and a look of shock came over her face as she dropped to her right knee. "Forgive me, your holiness; I should not have chastised you."
Dorothea had to stifle a giggle that was threatening to burst free; the look of shock on Cassandra's face was priceless; Dorothea glanced at Leliana, whom she could see was covering her mouth with a gloved hand. The sight of the Seeker first rising to the defense of Dorothea's mental faculties then feeling that she had somehow done something wrong by doing so, was hilarious. Throwing propriety to the wind, Dorothea's hand dropped to her stomach, and she did what was needed - she laughed. Laughed long and hard till tears came and nose ran, Leliana joined in, Cassandra went white and threw herself to the ground prostrate, causing Dorothea and Leliana to laugh all the more.
"Cassandra, get up, child! Maker knows I needed that. I am sorry to have laughed at your expense, but I needed to laugh." Dorothea moved around the desk to force her Right Hand to get to her feet. "Maker knows I needed a good laugh. Cassandra, you are very dear to me; you need not worry about such things. Please don't stand on ceremony, have I not told you to be yourself? I am Dorothea, not a damned statue!"
"Why are we here, your magnificent eminence?" Leliana asked, her beautiful blue eyes holding Dorothea's gaze. Leliana moved with all the grace of the most gifted dancers, but more with the languid strength of a serpent. Both beautiful and dangerous at once.
"Now, don't you start, Leliana!" barked Justinia, 'Yes, at this moment, I have to be Justinia the V.' Justinia moving back behind her desk to accentuate her authority. "I asked you both here to make a request of you. I need you to do this for me and not ask any questions. I can not explain why, but I must ask you both to move down to Haven rather than be here at the Conclave." Justinia waited for the explosion of objections, but strangely they did not come. Leliana remained silent, but Cassandra appeared to be ready to speak; with a glance, Dorothea gave her permission.
"I understand your eminence, and you believe that my position as a Seeker would cause the mages to think you sided with the Templars and the Templars would see me as a traitor. Neither side would trust me, and both sides would find me offensive." She made this comment, as painful as it was, with an even tone. "I have already offered my resignation, which you have refused. I can only serve you as I am able, of course, I will do as you ask, but again, would it not be better to replace me?"
Justinia now softened her face to a smile, "Oh Cassandra, there is no one on Thedas that is more able to fulfill your duties than you, and believe me, as grudging as they might be, everyone and I mean everyone knows that. No, I need you right where you are. Just be you, but down in Haven."
At this point, Leliana spoke, as Justinia and Dorothea knew she would. As formidable as Cassandra was, Leliana was far more capable and vastly more cunning. "Your eminence, I understand the situation with Cassandra well; however, I am concerned that it might put you in danger; I would never forgive myself if something happened and neither Cassandra nor I was able to assist you."
As usual, Leliana had cut to the bone, and her aim was true. "I can not explain my concerns Leliana, it is more of a feeling, which in the light of day seems silly, but if things go badly, we will need the Inquisition. I am old; my life, although precious to me, is only one life. If things go very badly, I would gladly give up that life if, by its loss, this insanity were to end." She hoped that her misdirection would be enough; she had prepared a dozen arguments as to why this was necessary, each more convincing than the last, but in truth, Dorothea could not bear the thought that both of these women might perish if her gamble failed to payout. Dorothea hated gambling by nature, but her very position was nothing but a gambler's paradise. She diced with the lives of thousands, perhaps millions. Thousands had already died, many thousands more had suffered. Inviting legions of mages and templars to the same place was like asking oil and fire to dance; it would be a miracle if she survived the roll.
To her shock and surprise and everlasting relief, both women simply nodded in agreement. "My girls, I can not tell you how much this gives me peace. Now come, let us eat something and speak of joyful things." Dorothea spent a few more precious minutes with women she could not help but think of as daughters. She hugged both; Cassandra was like hugging a statue of bone and muscle. Dorothea wished she had had time to find the woman a husband, Cassandra needs one, someone with which to share her life. There was no time, besides Cassandra would be a challenge for any man, the one who won her would find his challenges just beginning, but Dorothea smiled at her Right Hand; she was sure that any man who took up that challenge would win a prize worthy of the world.
With Leliana, she had even more regrets. 'How I have failed you, my little one. Worse, once you were happy with your beautiful Warden, I stole you away, taking some of the precious time you have left with her. Of all my sins, that is the greatest.' Dorothea brushed back the stray crimson bangs Leliana always seemed to have, looking deep into her eyes, "When this is over, my dearest Leliana, run to your Warden, make love to her, and do not let her go again – ever."
Leliana looked surprised, she felt her eyes brim, "I will Dorothea, I promise. You will officiate our recommitment ceremony; we have been apart so long." The tears threatened to escape, her eyes closed, as the tears fell.
Dorothea kissed the tears away, "Go, my dearest, you have been my heart and my daughter since your sweet mother left us. I wish I had been more a mother to you - my everlasting regret." With that, Dorothea turned away before Leliana could protest.
"Now go, both of you, I want you safely in Haven before this disaster starts." Justinia the V, waved them both away as she returned to her desk, picking up reports and ignoring both women as they gathered themselves to leave. As the door closed, Dorothea reached for her pocket, but remembered she had forgotten to pack any handkerchiefs, only to be surprised to feel soft silk; she removed the bundle. The exquisite square of beautiful silk was perfumed with Andraste's Grace and bore a beautifully embroidered L.