Chapter Text
Cullen chose a terrible time to stop taking lyrium.
They’d reached Haven three days before. It was too late to make the ascent to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, even with the orders to use horses instead of making a Pilgrim’s approach. The path was wide and well-marked, but there were still loose stones and other obstacles that would be a danger. Leliana and the diplomat… her name escaped him at present, were both disappointed that they would miss some party or another, but it was agreed that joining the talks in the morning was the best course of action.
After a late supper with his new associates, he had taken a few moments to pray, when the explosion rocked the valley and town of Haven. As a description, the word explosion left something to be desired, eruption was a far better word. It leveled the mountain that the Temple of Sacred Ashes perched upon, strangely there was surprisingly little debris in the aftermath. In its place was a large green tear in the Veil, and demons falling from it like rain through dark clouds.
The fresh start he’d hoped for was looking a whole lot like the life he’d left behind.
After assessing the situation, the strategy was simple. Clear the path to the Temple of Ashes, or what was left of it, and keep the demons away from civilians as much as possible. He didn’t have the troops to accomplish more than that, and the troops that he did have were not trained for the task at hand.
Sometime during the first night of fighting, a report came in about a woman that had somehow survived the explosion. In more than one garbled account, witnesses claimed she fell or jumped from the Breach and that another woman was behind her at the time. The Commander found that difficult to believe, but he dispatched Knight Captain Rylen to recover the survivor and bring her under guard, to Haven. He was more than willing to leave the investigation to Leliana. His hands were full already.
According to his reckoning, he’d been fighting for three days and two nights. There was food, and a few hours of sleep pushed upon him by Cassandra and Rylen. The sleep was hardly restful, and the demons encountered in the Fade were far more resilient than the ones he met while awake. He much preferred to have a sword in hand when he faced the denizens of the Fade.
This was a losing fight. There were not enough skilled fighters, and the demons kept pouring from the Breach. New rifts were opening all over the mountain and in the valley. They were outnumbered, and the best they could hope for was to buy time for the non-combatants to escape. He urged the Ambassador to take all those who were incapable of fighting and make their way to Denerim, but she refused to leave.
Cullen made his way through the gates, barking orders for the sentries to notify him if any demons approached. He took a seat near the fire and ladled some tasteless grey stew into a bowl. The Seeker wanted a report by midday, but there was really no news to give. The situation was the same as it was yesterday, and the day before.
The survivor, or prisoner, had a mark on her hand that was somehow connected to the Breach. When the Breach convulsed and spat out more demons, the mark reacted and grew. An elven apostate had a theory is that it could be used to close the Breach, and the many rifts that had appeared around it. The prisoner was still unconscious though, and it was unclear if she would recover enough to help.
Finished with his meal, Cullen stood and handed the bowl to one of the scouts. He thought about trying to sleep, but quickly dismissed the idea. It wouldn’t help much, and the line was barely holding as it was. The troops needed him, and he needed something to do.
Gianna slowly came to consciousness on her knees. Before she was fully aware of her surroundings, she felt the cold iron manacles on her hands. Opening her eyes was almost painful, but when she did, she saw the four guards, swords drawn, surrounding her. She felt the searing pain in her left hand before the flash of green light, and the sound of her own scream startled her.
As she struggled to make sense of her situation, two women entered the room. One was in Seeker’s armor, short black hair in a braid around her head. The other wore a softer cape, a deep hood obscuring the view of her head and eyes.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now,” the Seeker growled. “The Conclave is destroyed, everyone who attended has died, yet you survive.”
Gianna was still trying to get her brain to function properly. A green haze, spiders, and a strange woman in chantry garb became jumbled together with the gloom of the cold stone and clanking of chains. Struggling to separate reality from the fade terrors, her response to the Seeker’s question was silence. Until she knew more about what happened, keeping her mouth shut seemed the best option available.
Nevarran accent… Giana thought. She’s wearing the armor of a Seeker of Truth… Cassandra Pentaghast. Left hand of the Divine, Hero of Orlais, and according to all accounts, she’s a major hard ass… And she wants to kill me. Fucking Brilliant.
Cassandra reached down and grabbed her hand. “Explain this!” she barked in her prisoner’s ear.
Gianna saw the palm spark green only a moment before pain tore through her palm and shot up her arm. “The fuck is that?” she spat, while the pain subsided.
“You don’t know?” questioned the Seeker, her hand coming to rest on the hilt of her sword.
“Not a clue,” was the reply.
Without warning, Gianna was grabbed by the collar. The Seeker’s livid, screaming face was only inches away from her face. “You’re lying,” she accused.
“We need her, Cassandra,” the other woman said. She reached out and put a soft hand on the Seekers arm.
Orlesian accent, Gianna thought. Reddish hair… Leliana, Left hand of the Divine. She’s the dangerous one; she’s pulling the strings. This is what happens when you get involved with the fucking Chantry.
“Look,” Gianna began. “Before you kill me, can you explain what happened?”
The Right and Left Hands exchanged a look before Leliana took a step forward. “What do you remember?” she asked.
Gianna closed her eyes for a moment, trying to focus on the last memory she had. When she opened them, she found a pair of cunning blue eyes looking into hers.
Taking a deep breath, Gianna answered. “I remember falling. I looked back and saw spiders chasing me. I started to climb, and there was a woman in front of me, urging me on.”
“A woman?” Leliana queried.
“A woman,” Gianna repeated. “I couldn’t see her clearly, but she spoke.”
Cassandra leaned forward. “What did she say?”
Can she do anything that doesn’t seem menacing? Gianna asked herself before answering the question. “Something about hurrying, or to keep going.”
Gianna took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s hard to remember her exact words, but she was encouraging me. I can’t remember anything after that.”
The Nightingale stood up, and the mood in the room changed dramatically. With a nod, the soldiers guarding her filed out, and Gianna was left alone with the Right and Left Hands. Cassandra knelt to unshackle her hands, as she spoke.
“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to see if the Apostate was correct.”
Gianna was hauled roughly to her feet, and her hands bound with rope in front of her. It wasn’t freedom, but at least she wasn’t facing instant execution for whatever had happened. It seemed like progress.
“Seeker Pentaghast,” Gianna began. “Can I get something to eat before you throw me at whatever dangerous thing you plan on sacrificing me to?”
Cassandra spun around, almost toppling the bound Gianna with the force. “I beg your pardon? How dare you…”
“If I’m correct,” Gianna explained, “You’re planning to take me somewhere, and I’m going to be expected to do something. Correct?”
Cassandra was still sputtering in rage, so Leliana answered. “Yes, that sums it up.”
Gianna paused to think. She wanted to sound less demanding and more helpful. “I’m starving. If I’m going to be expected to get there on my own steam, and do something strenuous after that, getting something to eat first would only make sense.
“I’m more than willing to do whatever you ask.” Gianna grinned, or at least tried to. “Is food before probable death too much to ask?”
Leliana laughed. It was a tinkling sound, like bells. It shouldn’t sound as menacing as it did. But, Gianna thought, It is what it is.
“Is an apple and a glass of water acceptable?” Leliana lilted.
A genuine smile lit Gianna’s features. “An apple and a glass of water would be amazing.” She nodded at Leliana and the still scowling Cassandra. “Thank you.”
Leliana disappeared into the darkened hallway. A few minutes later, an apple sailed through the air, heading toward Gianna’s head. Catching it nimbly, she immediately took a bite, a drop of juice dribbling down her chin. She closed her eyes and moaned a little with the pleasure of it.
Cassandra rolled her eyes and gave a sound of disgust that would make any Revered Mother envious. “Are you going to be through anytime soon? The sky is rent open, the world is filling with demons, and we’re here while you eat.”
“What?” Gianna almost choked.
“Come,” the Seeker said. “I’ll explain on the way.”
What the fuck did you get yourself into this time, Kit? Gianna asked herself, as she followed the older woman into the darkness. More importantly, how are you going to get yourself out of it?