Siara looked up at the castle, a blank look on her face. It certainly looked different, but that didn't really affect her at all. Dorian came up beside her, his staff on his back.
"Impressive, isn't it?" he asked. Siara shook her head.
"I've seen more impressive. For example, how it was before all this stuff started happening," she shrugged. "Anyway, what do you think our chances are?"
"Slim to none," Solas piped up, resting his hands on his staff, "but better than they could otherwise be. I believe we're making the right choice."
"Templars would just be making the situation worse," Siara agreed, a sigh escaping her. "Dorian, you best go get in position. We'll hang back a bit then follow."
Dorian nodded, already beginning to walk off. He paused, then turned to look back at them.
"Try not to do anything stupid," he said. "Alexius will already be unimpressed that you're not the Herald."
"No more unimpressed than you are," Siara half smiled, Dorian scoffing slightly before continuing on his way. She was right, of course. He wasn't impressed that the Herald was leaving the problems with the mages until after she'd dealt with the templars. Siara was just as unimpressed, though for a couple more reasons, and some of them were highly biased.
"Do you have a plan for once we get in there?" Blackwall asked, Siara half looking around at him, then sighing.
"Jacen was always more of a planner than me, and before him it was Mara. I plan, then make it up as I go along."
"What about at the moment?" Solas asked.
"I'm open to suggestions, but at this stage I'm going to be a diplomat."
Blackwall and Solas shared looks. Neither of them knew Siara overly well, but they both got the idea that her playing diplomat was almost certainly not going to end well.
Lord Abernache met them just outside the gates, naturally wanting some small talk before entering. Jacquelyn did her best to humour him while still managing to persuade him to hurry up, and before long they were heading towards the walls.
"I don't suppose you'll divulge what finally got their attention?" Abernache asked as they approached the walls, Jacquelyn frowning slightly, having drifted off for a bit. "Rumour will, if you won't."
"I am afraid I do not fully understand," she said, looking around at him as he lengthened his stride a couple of steps to stop in front of her.
"The Lord Seeker won't meet us until he greets the Inquisition in person," he explained. "Quite a surprise after the spat in Val Royeaux."
"That… is news to me," Jacquelyn replied. "The Inquisition only asks that the Lord Seeker helps us to close the Breach, nothing more."
"Then it's all been arranged by your ambassador. Let the diplomats work their magic if you trust them," he started walking off again, Jacquelyn frowning. Her companions were already within the walls, Jacquelyn having trailed behind to have the conversations with Abernache. For a moment she stayed where she was, thinking. Then a drop of rain landed on her cheek, causing her to flinch slightly before looking up at the sky. A sigh escaped her as more drops of moisture started landing around her.
This was going to be a fun time. There was a part of her that hated politics, though her family had brought her up differently. She both loved and hated politics, simply wishing that more people had two braincells to rub together. She was afraid that this was a situation where the people she was dealing with would be missing at least half of one. But it was all part of one big game, and for the most part she enjoyed playing it.
"Between you and I, the chantry never took advantage of their templars," Abernache was saying, pulling Jacquelyn from her thoughts and prompting her to hurry her footsteps to catch up. "Wiser heads should steer them."
Jacquelyn didn't say anything, though that was one point that a part of her agreed with. She wasn't anti-mage, simply believing that mages needed certain… restrictions, and that the chantry wasn't always firm enough with them. Though these were views that she would keep to herself, especially because of the times that they found themselves in.
"Here we are! Therinfal Redoubt."
"The Lord Seeker abandoned the White Spire to come here," Cassandra said, Jacquelyn walking to stand beside her and the Iron Bull.
"You have to wonder why., Jacquelyn muttered, looking around.
"It appears they've sent someone to greet you," Abernache was saying, Jacquelyn nodding, eyes trained on the dark-skinned man standing at the gate. "Present well."
With that, Abernache started walking to meet them. Or do whatever it was that Abernache did. Jacquelyn didn't overly care. She didn't hear the last thing that he said, simply waited a moment before following him.
"This is going to be fun," she muttered. "There is something definitely wrong here. Make sure to stay on your guard."
"You don't need to tell me twice," Bull muttered, though because of how low his voice was it almost came out as a growl. He could clearly feel it, too, and judging by the concerned looks on Cassandra's and Varric's faces, they could tell something was not quite right as well. It did nothing to put Jacquelyn's fears at ease, though she wasn't quite certain what she was afraid of. There was only one thing for it, though, so she steeled her nerves as she approached the templar at the gates, raising her chin slightly, and prepared herself for anything that was about to come her way.
Jacen had elected to stay back at Haven, not entirely sure why, but just feeling like something wasn't going to end well if he went with his sister. There was some kind of whispering, some kind of warning, something telling him that he couldn't have helped her if he did go. He wouldn't be able to do his job if he'd gone. He couldn't explain it. Every time he tried to concentrate on it, it would slip away. Like if you tried to grab smoke with your hands.
He sat with his head in his hands, frowning. He could still feel her. Feel her emptiness. Though he was starting to struggle to fully understand it. He knew that she'd lost something, someone, and it was hurting her. There was a part of him that understood that she'd lost him. But he didn't understand it. He couldn't comprehend it. He kept having to stop himself and concentrate on it, remind himself of what it felt like to lose someone. Mara. His thoughts kept slipping back to her. She'd taught him how to use a bow. Before her magic had manifested. She'd been one of the best archers in the clan, despite her young age. She was a good teacher, too. Always smiling, always laughing. She was always so kind.
"Jacen!"
He looked up, clasping his knee. It hurt. Lots. Tears rimmed his eyes, Siara just watching, eyes fixed on the blood that was trailing down his leg, staining his leggings. She wasn't particularly good around blood. It made her feel sick. But Mara… Mara was right there at his side.
"Here, let me have a look," she was frowning in concern, her green eyes shining with worry. Jacen moved his hands away, leaning back on them while Mara checked the wound. A pale glow surrounded her hands as she placed them over the wound, Siara only now creeping closer, kneeling down next to Jacen and resting her head on his shoulder, her arms around his.
He leaned his head on hers, looking away. He'd grown up around magic, he should be used to it, yet the thought of it being used on him still made him nervous for some reason. A soothing warmth surrounding his sore knee, and before long the pain dulled until it was non-existent.
"There," Mara said, her voice soft and melodic as always. "All better."
He opened his eyes and looked up at her, at the kind smile that was almost always on her face. He smiled back up at her, Siara still resting her head on his shoulder. They didn't say anything, Mara just smiling a little more before pulling them both into a hug. He buried his face in her hair. He always liked the way she smelled.
But what did she smell like? His eyes opened and he frowned. He'd always been able to remember what Mara smelled like. Always. Whenever he wanted to, he could bring that scent to mind. So why couldn't he remember now?
Why was he forgetting?