Jacquelyn looked up at the darkened sky, her pale hair loose about her shoulders as it was played with by the wind. She closed her eyes as she listened to the bustling nightlife of Orlais, a content smile playing across her face. She liked the city. Always had. Despite how hard the day had been, she didn't regret being here. Sure, the templars had been idiots and walked out on them, but at least the mages were trying to get in touch. That was some progress made. Even if Jacquelyn would prefer to join with the templars if she had to choose only one side. There was just something about mages that she couldn't quite trust, though it was difficult for her to put into words. One or two of them at a time was fine. But whole hordes of them? She'd rather pass.
"What are you doing up so late, Herald?" Varric used the name mockingly, but it still brought a smile to Jacquelyn's face.
"I missed this," she admitted to him. "My grandmother is from Orlais, hence why my name is Orlesian. We used to come here when I was a child. At least, until she passed. Then there was nothing really to bring us back here."
"I can honestly say I did not see that coming," Varric leaned against the rails of the balcony. The rooms they'd rented at the inn were small, but they did the job, and they got a decent view of the surrounding area. Solas was locked in his room, doing whatever it was that Solas did when he was on his own, and Cassandra was busy thinking about what their next move should be. Varric had, evidently, been drinking, a mug of something held in his hands. Jacquelyn thought for a moment.
"So you have known Siara a while?" Varric took another swig of his drink before replying.
"Yup."
"How did you meet?"
"You're curious about the Blade, aren't you?"
"I… Not in any… um…" Jacquelyn shifted uncomfortably, feeling her cheeks burning slightly. "Not because of any… attraction towards her. Just… There have been stories about the Blade for many years, and I just… I wonder how many are true."
Varric laughed quietly, enjoying making the Herald squirm a little.
"We met while her sister was on a job. It was simple enough. Jacen and Siara were just looking around the market, and they bumped into me and my brother. Literally," A wry smile crossed Varric's face as he thought back on the day. "Only realised later that one of the buggers had managed to swipe Bartrand's purse. Had to go looking for them after that."
"Did you find out which one did it?" Jacquelyn asked, smiling in bewilderment.
"From the look on Siara's face, I'd say it was her. She looked too smug. Jacen was more apologetic, though he clearly didn't mean it. Found out that they'd spent the money, or most of it anyway. Where do you think Siara got those blades from?"
"So she is no better than a common thief. And a mercenary," Jacquelyn was frowning now, looking back over the city. "Perhaps keeping her with the Inquisition isn't such a good idea."
Varric shook his head.
"Siara was a wild card when she was younger, that's true," he admitted, "but she's calmed down a lot. And I'd trust her with my life. Have done on many occasions. She's a good kid."
"I am not so certain," Jacquelyn looked thoughtful for a moment, "but I will trust your judgement. For now. After what happened with Lord Kildarn, however, I do not know if I will continue to trust her for much longer. If she steps out of line again…" she shook her head. "Anyhow, we should talk about something else. What are your thoughts on the templars and the mages? I would appreciate your council on the matter."
Varric scoffed, then took another drink.
"I stick out of this kind of decision," he told her. "I'm sick of getting between bloody mages and templars. Been dealing with their shit for far too long."
"I see," Jacquelyn looked back up at the stars, breathing deeply. "Both have their own advantages, their own disadvantages. Why must so much rest on my shoulders?"
She asked the last part quietly, part of her hoping Varric would be unable to hear her, but he did.
"You got friends, Princess," he meant the name affectionately, and Jacquelyn was aware of it, silently appreciating the name. "I'm just not the best person to be talking to about mages and templars."
"Unfortunately, everyone else has a very strong opinion on who would be better to ask for help. But thank you, Varric. I appreciate it," she smiled down at the dwarf, who nodded.
"We should probably get some sleep," he told her. "Got a lot of travelling to do tomorrow, especially if you want to deal with this Red Jenny thing before going to this soiree."
"You are correct, of course," Jacquelyn looked up at the sky once more, "but I want to stay up for a bit longer. I promise I will retire shortly."
Varric nodded, then headed back inside, finishing his drink and leaving it on the table before falling into bed.
A frown passed across Cullen's face as he and Siara rode in to Haven. Siara hardly looked bothered by the sounds of arguing, dismounting her horse smoothly, leading it to the temporary stables nearby. Cullen stayed mounted for a moment longer before getting down from his dark brown horse, but he didn't lead it to the stables. Siara looked around, watching him, then rolled her eyes. She released her horse's reins and moved back to Cullen.
"Tell ya what," she said, "I'll deal to the horse, you deal to the crowd."
He looked around at her in surprise, then nodded, passing her the reins.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me," she told him as he walked off. "You owe me a drink."
He glanced back at her in surprise, but she wasn't looking at him. Cullen shook his head, then hastened his steps to the chantry. There was a crowd already formed, mages and mage supporters facing templars and templar supporters, rage thick in the air as they threw insults at each other, blame being tossed back and forth. It wasn't going to dissipate any time soon; not without assistance, that was for certain.
"Your kind kill the most holy!" one of the templars accused, stepping forward from the crowd, poised as though ready to start with fists if needed. A mage stepped forward.
"Lies," he said simply, pointing to the templar. "Your kind let her die."
Cullen hurried his steps, realising that getting there to intervene as soon as possible was important. The templar reached for his sword, moving to draw it.
"Shut your mouth, mage!" he growled, Cullen forcing himself between the two before the templar could remove his sword from its scabbard.
"Enough!" his voice was firm, making it an order, glaring at both those involved in the main altercation.
"Knight-Captain –" the templar started to object, Cullen looking from the mage to the templar.
"That is not my title," he said. "We are not templars any longer. We are all part of the Inquisition."
"And what does that mean, exactly?" Chancellor Roderick asked, moving forwards through the crowds, hands behind his back, face unreadable. Cullen's face soured as he looked at the man. As if this wasn't hard enough already.
"Back already, Chancellor?" Cullen didn't bother trying hard to hide how irritated he was with Roderick's presence, only making his response slightly less rude than it could otherwise have been. "Haven't you done enough already?"
"I'm curious, Commander, as to how your Inquisition and its 'Herald' will restore order as you've promised," Roderick turned from Cullen to face the crowds, Cullen looking around at all the faces. Some was clearly agreeing, others strongly disagreeing, yet others terrified at the thought. There was one that stood out to him, however, ethereal purple and white eyes watching with a calculating yet amused glint in them. She had only just gotten there, just stopping when Cullen spotted her. Cullen glared back at Roderick.
"Of course you are," he muttered, his voice holding a long suffering yet pissed off hint to it before he went back to addressing the crowds. "Back to your duties, all of you!" he ordered, the crowds slowly dissipating. Siara stayed where she was, watching them go, then walked over to Roderick and Cullen.
"So, what was that all about?" she asked, rather lazily, as if she couldn't care less. Cullen frowned, not looking impressed at the way things were working.
"Mages and templars blaming each other for the Divine's death," he explained.
"Which is why we require a proper authority to guide them back to order," Roderick stressed, Siara rolling her eyes.
"Because that worked sooooo well last time," she smirked at Roderick. "Why do you think mages and templars are blaming each other for all this shit in the first place? Mages have a power that no one seems to understand properly, all of them at higher risk of demonic possession than most people, and templars subjugated them for how many centuries? Don't get me wrong, some templars are fine. From my own experience, though, most templars are fuckers who deserve a knife to the gut. Mages and templars are long time rivals. That's not going to change with a new power. There might be some improvement after we know what the hell is going on, and frankly the Inquisition is about the only thing seeming interested in figuring that out. Everyone else is just running around trying to find their own asses," Roderick turned red, glaring at Siara, and Cullen just looked confused.
"You believe that the rebel Inquisition and the so-called 'Herald of Andraste' are a suitable authority?" Roderick demanded, turning on Siara.
"I'm not good with authority figures, so frankly I'm not a good person to be asking. But since something is actually getting done? Sure. But if you want to pay me… say… six hundred gold to undermine it? Sure. Why not?"
"Siara…" Cullen warned, Siara just shrugging.
"Like he has six hundred gold," she scoffed, then looked back at Roderick. "Also, you might not want to say too many negative things about Trevelyan. The Commander's patience might wear thin," she shrugged again, Cullen shifting awkwardly, concentrating hard on not rubbing the back of his neck. Roderick didn't seem to notice, however, his eyes narrowing even more at Siara.
"And who are you, anyway?" he demanded.
"Siara. The Blade."
"So not only are you a known murderer, you're the sister of an apostate. A maleficar, at that."
Cullen frowned at that, watching for Siara's reaction. If he was expecting some kind of explosion from the elf, he was disappointed. She merely shrugged, not even visibly tensing.
"She made her choices," she explained, "and she died for them in the end."
"Your history means that your opinions are void, Blade," Roderick spat the name, Siara just scoffing slightly, a half smile on her face, making her look rather cocky. "No one will listen to your thoughts on the matter."
"Quite the contrary," Siara shrugged. "You see, I'm a bit of a legend around here. I survived the Blight when I was in the middle of it, when I was just a kid. My brother was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall. And my sister? You said it yourself. She was infamous. The Blood, the Bow, and the Blade were one of the most well known mercenary groups in the world. My voice? Has weight. People will listen to me. Sometimes being infamous has its advantages, little man," if it was possible, Roderick went even redder, Siara turning to Cullen. "What do you keep him around for? He's all hot air, a waste of space."
"You said it yourself," Cullen replied, "he's toothless. There's no point in turning him into a martyr simply because he runs at the mouth."
"Clearly the Commander has more of a brain than your siblings," Roderick muttered, so quietly that he thought no one would hear him. This time Cullen did see Siara tense, a vein in her neck popping slightly, her eyes flashing dangerously, her hands twitching at her side. The Commander wasn't certain that he'd be able to stop her if she did do something, he knew how fast she could be.
"Just be careful," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "If he runs at the mouth too much, we'll find that he really is toothless."
Then she turned and marched off, probably before she could actually do anything to the Chancellor. Cullen watched her as she headed back in the direction of the temporary stables, probably to deal with the horses.
"I'd thank the Maker if I were you, Chancellor," he said, "because she isn't exactly what I'd call stable right now, and you just mentioned her recently deceased brother."
He turned and left the Chancellor, now visibly paled, to think on what he had just said.
Jacquelyn sighed, trying to block out the sound of bickering as they rode into Haven. Sera and Vivienne really didn't like each other. Varric and Cassandra weren't talking (unsurprising), Solas being about the only one present at that moment who wasn't giving the Herald of Andraste a headache. Haven was visible in the distance, but it was still too far away for Jacquelyn's liking. She just wanted to get into a nice, warm bath…
The wind was cold, snow starting to settle. As if things couldn't get worse… Cold, dirty, headache… It was getting to the point where Jacquelyn was starting to struggle to deal with it. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, eyes fixed on Haven. It wouldn't be that much longer until she would be back there. A part of her wished she could go back to Orlais. To civilisation. Given half the chance she'd just go home. She actually vaguely missed her siblings, as annoying as they were.
That being said, though, she was pleased that she was getting a chance to prove herself. If none of this had happened, if the mages hadn't rebelled, then by now she would be being trained to be a templar. Like Cullen was, once upon a time. Just the thought of the Commander brought a slight smile to her lips. She wasn't exactly trying to hide the fact that she was interested in him. He was a good-looking man. And sweet. Definitely sweet. And he was so awkward when he actually realised she was flirting with him, which only added to his charm. She wondered if he realised this. Something told her that the answer was no. There was a part of her that worried that he was already taken and that was why he was acting so awkward, but no one ever mentioned anything about the Commander being in any kind of relationship.
Thinking about Cullen, somehow, managed to make the trip seem faster, and soon they were within the walls of Haven. Jacquelyn slid from her horse and let one of the hands care for it, heading for her hut to get out of her armour into something more comfortable, letting her hair out of its braid as she went, the ice-cold wind playing with it. With the lighting the way it was, it was difficult to tell where the snow ended and her hair began, they were such similar colours. A shiver ran up her spine and she hurried her steps, people glancing in her direction as she passed.
They were looks that she was starting to get used to; she'd been getting them a lot since she fell out of the Fade, since she'd closed that first rift, since she became known as the Herald of Andraste. Since so much began resting on her shoulders. It was a feeling that she both hated and loved. Having so many looking to her for protection and guidance.
She opened the door to her hut and quickly slipped inside, closing the door after her. Someone had already lit a fire for her. Whoever it was, Jacquelyn was grateful to them. A contented sigh escaped from her and she removed her cloak, throwing it on her bed, then proceeding to remove her armour, setting it neatly on her desk, her thin white shirt suddenly feeling like it was exposing her skin too much to the cold. She shivered again, heading to the chest where she kept her stuff, pulling out a thicker shirt, this one woollen, dark blue in colour. She changed from the thin white shirt and into the dark blue one, also changing her leggings into thicker ones, pulling a jacket on and wrapping herself up in the cloak once more.
She knew that she was expected to go brief everyone on how everything went at Orlais, but she really didn't want to. For now she just wanted to rest, enjoy the warmth. But there was a knock at the door, another sigh escaping Jacquelyn before she could stop it, and she went and answered. Standing there was Cassandra.
"Are you ready to brief the others?" she asked. Jacquelyn nodded, hiding the fact that she was actually rather upset about that she wasn't about to get her bath. She opened the door slightly more for Cassandra to come in while she pulled socks and boots on again.
"What are your thoughts," Jacquelyn asked, "about Fiona and the mages or going after the templars?"
"You know where I stand on the matter," Cassandra responded, closing the door behind her and moving to stand closer to the fire, snow melting in her hair. "I do not trust the mages, and there is something odd with the templars. I believe that they require more assistance than the mages do."
"I would be inclined to agree," Jacquelyn agreed, "but we also have to think about who would be more help with closing the Breach. From the few conversations I have had with Solas about it, he seems to believe that the mages would be of more help. Yet I cannot bring myself to trust them. There could be maleficar in their midst. And abominations."
"I see you are thinking this through," Cassandra frowned slightly. "I'm sorry that this has to be on your shoulders."
Jacquelyn shook her head, standing up and heading for the door.
"I can handle this," she said. "I am fairly certain that the mages would be an unwise choice. They might be more powerful, but I also believe that they would be more dangerous. Taking into consideration that we are not the only ones here, but we are also harbouring some refugees, it would be safer to not have flight risks in our midst."
Cassandra nodded, following Jacquelyn out and once again closing the door behind her.