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Chapter Text

It began with flames—the worst of them always did.

While dunmer were resistant to fire, the heat of Oblivion still pierced through her armor and seeped under her skin. This was the last place she would want to be, but she’d promised Martin that she would obtain the Great Sigil Stone even if it killed her.

Armed with the memory of his kind smile, she ploughed on, ignoring the bodies hung around the towers in warning. She snuck past the dremora when she could, and sliced her way through those that spotted her. When at last she reached the top of the tower, she could see the stone; it was larger than the usual ones she had collected from her gate traipsing, and she could feel its power anchoring the gate.

She stepped forward slowly, afraid that there would be additional wards around the artifact. The beam of light emanating from it was blinding, but she didn't look away, afraid that she would miss when she made a grab for it.

A voice from behind her made her freeze in her steps.

“My dear, sweet, Silencer, whatever are you doing now?”

She could hardly breathe as she turned to face the voice.

His Black Hand robes were immaculate, and his hood was up, but she could see his eyes—black and empty as the Void. The chill that often accompanied him whenever he showed himself was gone, swept away by the heat of Oblivion.

“Speaker,” she whispered, her voice filled with longing and hope.

“Silencer,” he answered just as softly. His arms spread out in a welcoming gesture so familiar to her that it made her heart ache.

It was difficult to anchor herself to the reality of his loss. She wanted to believe that he was here, alive and well. Most of all, she wished to prostrate herself before him and beg for his forgiveness, because she knew she had failed him.

Squeezing her eyes shut to block out his visage, she braced herself for the words she was about to say. “You're dead.”

“Yes.”

The shock at hearing him confirm it made her eyes fly open. The serene smile on his face grew frozen, and she stared at him in horror as he started to shuffle towards her. He changed with every step he took: his robes became tattered, his skin peeled away, and his long hair fell off in great chunks.

Suddenly, it wasn't just him. All of them were there, behind him, moving towards her in a dream-like state.

Gogron, the crimson slash across his throat as wide as his grin; Antoinetta Marie, her innocent smile frozen on her white skin and blue lips; Vicente, his eyes red as the blood flowing freely from his chest—

She fell backward as Lucien lunged towards her. Kicking him away, she tried to stand up, but he locked her legs and she fell forward, chin colliding with the hard floor. The Speaker was upon her in an instant, his decaying body pinning her to the ground.

She fumbled for the dagger on her belt. Once she had a solid grip on the hilt, she raised it and plunged it into Lucien's temple. While it didn't stop him, it gave her enough time to shove him away. She pushed herself up and stumbled backwards, away from the ghosts of her past. Without another look, she jumped, hand outstretched to grab the Sigil Stone.

She felt her hand enclose around the stone, but the Deadlands didn't disappear as she fell. It continued twisting and morphing, showing her the interior of Applewatch farm, the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, her prison cell, and the Temple of One—Martin's last smile swimming in front of her eyes—

Talia Indoril woke with a start.

On instinct, she drew the dagger from under her pillow and threw the furs off, instantly alert and on-guard. She surveyed her room for any intruders and listened carefully for anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing but the sound of the habitants of the Arcane University waking up to greet the morning.

Her breath was coming in harsh gasps, and she released her shaky grip on the dagger to let it fall on her bed. Drawing her legs to her chest, she buried her head in her arms, attempting to calm herself. She stayed this way until she stopped shivering, and her grip on her arms no longer threatened to leave any bruises.

It had been two years since both the Oblivion Crisis and the Brotherhood’s Reformation, and yet she continued to relive these memories night after night, as if Vaermina had set a curse upon her. The horror of those days refused to be shrugged away, leaving her unhinged and unbalanced. Her duties in the Thieves Guild and the Brotherhood had not been enough to stave away such thoughts, and she had joined both the Mages Guild and the Fighter's Guild to try to find something to distract her.

Sometimes, she felt her old self resurfacing; she would occasionally crack a smile at Modryn's dry wit, and roll her eyes at High Chancellor Ocato's self-importance, but moments like these reminded her why she had stopped being that person in the first place.

With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed. After cleaning up at the wash basin, she shrugged into black and grey battlemage robes and surveyed herself in the mirror critically.

There was a time when she hadn't cared a whit about her appearance, but she eventually learned its value. Being under the constant scrutiny of every eye in Cyrodiil made her realize that it was important not just to be powerful, but to also look the part.

The dunmer in the mirror glared at her. Her pronounced cheek bones and angular face made her appear severe. Long, black hair was pulled back and the tresses that escaped her bun framed her face. Her skin was grey enough not to clash with her clothes, and blue enough not to blend with it. Her dark red eyes did not help to soften her look, and she arranged her expression into that of seriousness rather than anger.

Satisfied, she made her way down to her office and settled down at her desk to begin paperwork. It was routinary, but it kept her mind busy. The missives from various nobles and politicians were set aside. After everything she'd done for Cyrodiil, she believed she was entitled to ignore a few party invites that were of no importance. She couldn't help the small smirk that quirked her lips as she spotted an invite from Count Umbranox. While he’d wanted to do nothing with her after he'd passed on the Gray Cowl, propriety forced him to invite her to every gathering they hosted. She would show up at times just to annoy him.

Most of the documents were updates from various guildhalls, new spells created, the status of apprentices, complaints and such. As she sorted through them, the one from the Bravil Guild Hall caught her eye.

Kud-Ei had never forgotten the help she'd extended in saving Henantier, and in turn, the Argonian had kept an eye out for any strange occurrences and rumors around Bravil. Not so much because Talia liked hearing the latest gossip, but more to do with the fact that the Brotherhood's activities might be noticed. A woman in black robes was once reported often lurking about the Lucky Old Lady Statue at odd hours. Of course that would have been her, and she'd been Listening. But it proved her point, and Kud-Ei's reports have helped her with arranging her transactions at the Bravil Sanctuary.

There have been rumors of a strange doorway opening on an island in the middle of Niben Bay. Although they did not strike us as an Oblivion Gate, some townsfolk are worried it might be the second coming of Dagon. I humbly request that you send some mages to study it, and perhaps some members of the Fighter's Guild to guard them. The guardsmen at Bravil have been informed, but Captain Varania has refused our requests.

While she didn't think that the doorway that appeared was a gate to the Deadlands, there was a chance it was still an Oblivion Gate. Portals did not simply appear out of nowhere after all. She could send anyone to examine the rumors, but she'd been itching for something to do. Besides, she needed to travel to Bravil to visit Mother anyway.

By the time she'd reviewed all documents, and either signed or incinerated them, it was already late afternoon. She approved the last batch of requests from the Enchanting Department before stretching away from her desk and preparing for her trip to Bravil.

She made sure she travelled with her essentials, her Blade of Woe and Sufferthorn were sheathed on her belt, and two more daedric daggers were in her boots. She opted to leave her Akaviri Blade behind as it was mostly ceremonial. The Ring of Khajiiti was safely in her robe pocket, and she wore the Mundane ring on her right hand. While it reminded her of Mankar Camoran and less savory memories, the ring had proved itself incredibly useful. She placed two throwing needles in her bun in guise of hair ornaments. Magic was her most potent weapon, but it never hurt to be ready. Her Gray Cowl and her Black Hand robes were in her pack, as well as a few books about the speech spell she'd been crafting.

Talia passed by Raminus before she left the University, and she let him know she would be researching the doorway in Niben Bay. He knew better than to question her, and simply nodded and told her he'd take over the paperwork until she arrived.

Before heading out, she dropped by Dareloth's house to check up on the Guild. It still amused her how differently the thieves treated her when she was bare-faced and when wearing the Cowl. Despite using the Elder Scroll to change the artifact’s nature, it did nothing to break the strong daedric enchantments on it. None of them could associate her with the Gray Fox, as evidenced by the number of times she wore and removed the Cowl in their presence.

“The Gray Fox!” Came Armand's usual awed greeting as she stepped inside.

“Armand.” She nodded and pulled out a list of possible targets she'd compiled in the last two weeks to give to the doyen.

“Thank you, Guildmaster.” He smiled in appreciation as he scanned the list. "I'll check to see which ones we can use to test the new recruits."

“How many do we have?”

“We got a lot this month, about six of them. But I've been checking up on two of them, and we think they're related to some members of the Imperial Guard.”

“Don't take the chance, Armand.” Traitors were sometimes difficult to weed out, and she would not risk the entire guild for two above average Pickpockets. “Walk in shadow,” she said in farewell as she stepped back out into the night.

Talia, considering her duties as Listener and as Arch-mage, had been thinking about passing on the title of Gray Fox to another in the Guild. It was clear that she had already outgrown them, having joined the Guild first before any other group eight years ago. Armand and Methedrel were the top contenders, one had the knowledge but lacked charisma, and the other was not as seasoned but much more enigmatic.

The idea of controlling all major factions in Cyrodiil had been heady and appealing, but it had grown to become unrealistic and unsustainable. Even now, she was barely doing anything for the Thieves Guild and the Fighters Guild, only truly able to focus on the Brotherhood and the Mages University. Still, being part of all four and her status as Champion made her nigh untouchable, and it was part of what made her such an effective Listener.

Even with Shadowmere, it took her around two days to get to Bravil. She probably could have arrived faster if she didn't stop; her rest at the Inn of Ill Omen seemed to be for naught, as she couldn't sleep at the onslaught of memories.

It was cold and damp, the early morning dew still clinging to the stones of the various buildings she passed by. There was barely anyone on the streets considering the hour, and Talia stopped at the Lucky Old Lady Statue, bowing her head as if asking for a blessing.

A whispering voice echoed in her mind, and Talia dutifully wrote down everything.

More have offered prayers to their Mother …speak to Andrea Calvacanti in High Rock and J'sanza in Elseweyr…

It continued until she was certain she'd filled the entire vellum.

“Thank you, Mother,” she murmured. As she moved to walk away, the Night Mother's voice spoke once more.

Our family's reach has extended outside of Cyrodiil. I am pleased with your progress, my Listener. You are truly worthy to be called a Child of Sithis.

Talia and the Night Mother had a complicated relationship. A part of Talia despised her, but there was also an insistent need to please and gain her approval as well. The dunmer was fairly certain that Mother didn’t necessary like her, but she was the most competent assassin and Listener the Brotherhood had had in years.

There was also the small matter of Talia’s soul belonging to Sithis.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, she bowed at Mother's crypt.

“I live to serve.”

She slipped on the Ring of Khajiiti, and made sure no one was following her as she entered the Bravil Sanctuary.

“Sister, welcome,” a warm voice spoke as she entered.

Turning to him, Talia dipped her head in greeting, and allowed a small smile to touch her lips. “Brother.”

Lukas had been one of the first Murderers to be recruited into the Brotherhood after its reform. Arquen had been the one to bring him into the Family, and she had clearly done so to spite Talia. The altmer, while following her every order, still managed to aggravate her at every turn. When Arquen had first brought him to the sanctuary, Talia had stopped cold and stared at him, and the altmer had asked in her most polite voice if something was the matter.

His likeness to Lucien was apparent, and the barely concealed cruelty on Arquen’s face only confirmed it for her. Talia’s mind had blanked for a moment, and her next memory was of her staring down at Arquen dispassionately as her hands wrapped around her neck, squeezing with all her might.

Arquen despised her, and the feeling was more than mutual. If it had been up to Talia, she would have eviscerated the altmer and left her in the Night Mother’s Crypt along with her other Brothers. Alas, the Night Mother herself ordered her to leave Arquen alive and let her help with rebuilding the Brotherhood.

So, Talia couldn’t kill her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t make life difficult for her. After a year, she’d moved Lukas from Cheydinhal to Bravil and made him her Silencer, while also transferring Arquen to the dullest city she could think of—Leyawiin. She had promoted Lukas to Speaker after another year, and put him in charge of Bravil Sanctuary.

“What brings you to Bravil?”

“Rumors of strange doors in Niben Bay,” she said. “And the Listener wished me to give you this.” She handed him the list of names mentioned by the Night Mother, as well as their locations. Apart from the Black Hand, none of the members of the Family knew which of them was the Listener. Although it was only the two of them in the living area, it never hurt to be careful in a den of sneaks and cutthroats.

“I'll pass this on to our other brothers.” He nodded as he scanned the list. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes.” Her impassive face did not change at Lukas' skeptical look.

“Even so, please join me.” He gestured to the empty spot in front of him, and while she could simply walk away, Lukas was one of the few people she actually liked and respected. Sighing, she took the proffered seat.

“Help yourself.”

“No, thank you.”

“You should eat.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“It's rude to refuse the hospitality of your host.” He gave her an innocent look and Talia shot back a withering glare. She resigned herself to eating and grabbed a piece of bread to nibble on. Satisfied, Lukas started with his meal.

“I think I liked you better when you worshipped the ground I walked on,” she grumbled.

“Fret not, I will always worship you.” Lukas gave her a wolfish grin, and it was times like this that she was reminded of how different he was from Lucien. While the former was all roguish charm and wit, the latter was full of cool smiles and icy politeness.

Still, his effort made her lips quirk upward.

“My goodness! Is that a smile I see?” He beamed at her and was rewarded by a huff of laughter from Talia.

“Such impertinence. Keep this up and I'll demote you back to Murderer.”

“Only if I get to follow you around Tamriel,” he said cheekily.

Talia made a noise of amusement. “I don’t think they’d let someone who can’t even cast a basic flame spell into the Arcane University.”

“Excuse you. I can manage a flame spell just fine.”

“Oh? I must have been remembering a different, magic-incompetent Speaker.”

“Don’t be so rude, Talia! Keer-Das is a fine mage!” he mock-gasped.

The door to the Sanctuary squeaked open, and the two immediately sobered. A Breton assassin entered muttering complaints under her breath about her recent contract. As she passed by their table, she didn’t jump, but it was a close thing.

“Speaker Lukas!” She bowed. As she straightened, her eyes darted quickly across Talia’s robes, and after a beat, she bowed to her as well. “Speaker.”

“Eliminator Lillian.” Lukas nodded. “This is Speaker Talia of the Dawnstar Sanctuary in Skyrim.”

“It’s an honor, Speaker.”

“How was your last contract?”

Talia was content to sit and watch the two interact. It had been some time since she had taken contract for the Brotherhood, opting to simply give it to the other Speakers. Killing wasn’t something she necessarily enjoyed, but she hadn’t minded it.

Still, since Martin’s death, she hadn’t taken any assignments voluntarily. There were rare occasions when the Night Mother asked for her specifically, and Talia was certain it was simply another way for her to remind Talia whom she belonged to.

She was sick of it, but if she wanted her soul to go to the Void, to be reunited with her Family…

“Talia?”

Talia blinked up at Lukas, who seemed to have been calling her name for a while. His expression was carefully neutral, but she could sense his concern.

“I’m all right,” she preempted.

Lukas simply nodded, but gently took her by the shoulders and steered her to his room. When they reached his chambers, she carefully disarmed before laying down on his bed. Lukas, after checking his locks, climbed beneath the covers and pulled Talia close.

He was the only Brother she trusted implicitly. Being her Silencer, Lukas had grown closer to her than any other member of their Family. He was there during the lowest point of her life, and he was still here, helping her pick up the pieces of her life that the Oblivion Crisis and the Purification had shattered.

Despite the many rumors of their relationship, it was purely platonic. Talia didn’t wish to complicate things by involving herself with a subordinate, especially since she still thought of both Lucien and Martin very often.

Still, it didn’t stop Lukas from offering her some measure of comfort when they were together. Even if it was just simply holding her at night to stave off her nightmares.

The next morning, Talia roused to the safety of Lukas’ arms. Despite wanting nothing more than staying in bed, she had quite a lot to do. She reluctantly pulled away and was making herself decent for the day when Lukas woke up.

“Talia? S’that you?” His voice was muffled by the sheets.

“Were you expecting someone else?”

 “Shut up. It’s early.” He yawned. “Do you want any company?”

“It’ll be hard to explain who you are and why you’re with me.”

“Good point. Well, if I’m not coming, I may as well get some more hours of sleep.”

“Indeed,” Talia said with a smirk. “And I suppose I’ll just walk out alone, in full view of all your assassins.”

There was silence before Lukas said in a horrified tone, “You wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I?” she shot back.

Lukas pulled back the sheets and sat up quickly. There was a pleading expression on his face. “The rumors have just died down. I can’t take any more gossiping, have mercy on my sanity.”

Unfortunately for Lukas, he had gathered the nosiest group of assassins out of all of them. And since, compared to the other Speakers, he was more relaxed with his Sanctuary members, they openly nagged and teased him.

Once she had deemed her appearance acceptable, she turned to Lukas and smirked. “Have a good day, Speaker Lukas.” She bowed and exited the room, making sure to do so loudly. She could hear Lukas’ curses as she left. Most of the Sanctuary members were already up, and they stared at her briefly before bowing to her as she passed. But Talia already saw the sparkling of intrigue and mischief in their eyes.

There was something about Lukas that always made Talia feel more like her younger self. His warmth allowed her to shed her veil of grief for a brief moment, and she would always be grateful to him for that. As she journeyed away from him and his Sanctuary, the lightness she’d previously felt slowly dissipated, until she was left with nothing but her empty heart once more.

Talia rode Shadowmere to the edge of Bravil’s shores, the shortest distance to the island. A simple water walking spell later, and she was striding across Niben Bay. From afar, she could see that there was a strange rock formation surrounding the portal. When she reached land, she took a good look at the doorway before groaning. The rock around the gate was sculpted in the form of a man screaming, his eyes bulging, with his mouth as the portal.

Of course it had to be Sheogorath. At least if it had been Boethiah, she could predict what sort of quest she'd be doing for the Daedric Prince.

"Halt! What do you think you're—Oh, Champion! I apologize, I didn't realize it was you!" A voice came from the side and she saw one Bravil guardsman. Well, it seems Varania decided she couldn't not act on the Mages' Guild's request.

“Guardsman.”

“You should step away from the gate,” he warned. “Nothing good has come out of it.” Here, he gestured to the Khajiit a few feet away, who was as skittish as a deer.

“Lovely,” she muttered. Deciding to take her chances, since she was Sheogorath's Champion even if she'd left the Wabbajack behind, she stepped forward and extended a hand to touch the bright light.

"Well, it's your funeral—"

She barely heard the words. Her hand touched something like a viscous liquid, and it started to suck her in. Talia took a deep breath and went with it. She kept her eyes closed as she felt herself being enveloped in it.

Unexpectedly, she was slammed to the ground by an unknown force, strong enough for her to grow dizzy. She heard an explosion in the distance, and as she struggled to get up, she peered at her surroundings.

Not even her best training could stop her from gaping at what she saw. Everything around was dark and tinged green. Various rocks and parts of a structure were floating high above her.

Wherever she was, she was most definitely not in Sheogorath's plane.

Chapter Text

The Deadlands are preferable to this place, at least I'd know what to expect.

Dust and mist were swirling around her, making it difficult for her to see even past her boots. She heard a few shouts of terror, but she didn't answer back. Whomever this plane belonged to, it wasn't Sheogorath. Admittedly, it was a strange place; she couldn't tell up from down, or if there was any path. Columns of stone and concrete were floating but it was a desolate zone, there was nothing in it that could be associated with the Mad God.

Talia could see a bright light in the distance, and hoped it was her way out. She had not yet encountered any daedra, but she had a strong feeling she would rather not meet them. As she shuffled towards it, she noticed a prone figure laying face down on the ground. Unsure if it was a hostile person or a potential ally, she drew her dagger before throwing a Restoration spell at it.

A groan was heard from the figure as they stirred.  Their glowing hand grasped around for purchase as they attempted to stand. Out of instinct, Talia put up a ward between them.

“Who are you?” she asked, and the person peered at her with groggy eyes before shaking their head.

The figure turned out to be a young bosmer, although she looked different from her elven cousins. The girl was short, painfully thin and fair skinned. Her big, green eyes were wide and soulful as she looked at her. Her red hair was in disarray and strewn across her face, and her forehead was marked with a tattoo of a leafless tree.

The bosmer blinked, and as her eyes focused, she stared at Talia with a mix of shock and—was that fear?

“Calm down,” she raised her hands trying to placate the girl.

At her words, the bosmer immediately stumbled away from her, shouting in a strange language.

Talia frowned. A bosmer who didn't know Common? Where did she grow up and why didn't anyone teach her?

Perhaps now was the time to try out the speech spell she'd been working on. It was a mix of Illusion and Alteration, and formed a link between minds, allowing words to flow in a way that could be understood by all parties. It wasn’t by any means, perfect, but it was better than nothing. She gathered it in her hand and released it, letting it wash over her and the bosmer.

"Now, let's start that again. Who are you?" Talia said.

The girl squeaked and looked at her warily. “You speak Elvhen?”

Elvhen? “Your name?” she repeated her question instead.

“My name is Talia, First to Keeper Istimaethoriel of the Lavellan Clan,” she said in a mix of Aldmeris, Dumeri, and Common. Ah well, the spell clearly still needed some adjustment, but she was glad it seemed to work.

Talia squinted at the reveal of their shared name; it made her suspicious.

“I am Talia Indoril.” She had many more questions. What was a Keeper? Was she from Valenwood or Summerset Isles? Or somewhere else entirely? Instead, she asked, “Where are we and how did we get here?”

The bosmer looked at her curiously. "We have the same name?"

Of course that was what she would focus on. “Yes,” she answered impatiently. “But I would like to know where we are and how you got here.”

“I would like to know what you are first.” She raised her chin in an act of bravery, but Talia could only look at her in surprise.

“Have you never met any dunmer before?" That at least ruled out Summerset Isles, there were a fair number of her kind residing there. Still, what place could she possibly be from that didn’t have any dunmer?

Lavellan still continued to look at her with a mix of wariness and confusion. “What's a dunmer? You're awfully strange, how do I know you're not a Desire Demon?”

She had no idea what that was, but it was easy enough to guess from its name.

“A Desire Demon? Why? Do I look like everything you've ever wanted in your life?” Talia asked in annoyance.

"I—I suppose not. You could be a rage demon…but I've seen them, and they don't really look anything like you."

Talia rubbed her eyes. “I am not any sort of ‘demon’. Though perhaps this discussion can wait until we've determined where we are and how we leave this wretched place.”

“Oh, the where is simple enough: we're in the Fade," Lavellan replied.

“The what?” It was Talia's turn to look baffled. She'd never heard any of the Daedric Princes call their realm 'The Fade'. Was it a new term for Namira's realm? The desolate aura would start to make sense.

“The Fade, The Beyond,” Lavellan emphasized, as if it would somehow jog Talia's memory.

Talia simply shook her head, having already resigned herself to the fact that she would not understand what was happening at that moment. Perhaps it was Sheogorath's doing.

“Let's figure out how to get ourselves out of here, and maybe we can educate each other afterwards, is that all right?” Talia asked, and without waiting for an answer, she pushed forward, walking in the direction of the light.

“H-hey wait!

The two eventually came across a staircase made of floating chunks of rock, leading upward into the light. With a frown, she tested her weight on the first, ensuring whatever magic was keeping it up would not expire while she ascended.

“Who’s that?” Lavellan said. Talia tilted her head up to where she was looking and spied a figure standing at the top of the stairs.  It was impossible to tell who it was; the harsh glow cast the person’s features in shadow.

“With luck, someone who knows what’s going on.”

As they began to ascend the steps, screeching sounds pierced the air from behind them, and Talia paused to look at what it was. As the mist cleared, she felt ice pool at the pit of her stomach.

“Spiders! Run!” Lavellan shouted as she rushed up the stairs.

Did this…Fade conform to a person's memory? Because Talia could see no spiders, but numerous crawling corpses. Talia turned and hurried up the stairs before she could identify any more of them.

As they neared the peak, Talia could see an old woman wearing robes and a ceremonial headdress. Behind her, the glow turned out to be some sort of magical phenomenon. The light seemed to bend and twist, as if it were writhing in its place.

Despite Lavellan's headstart, Talia reached the top first. Upon seeing her, the old woman audibly gasped. Talia raised an eyebrow but turned away to blast spells at the dead that followed them, sending firebolt after firebolt at the creatures.

“Do you know a way out?” she asked tersely.

“Sorry? I—I don’t understand?”

Talia exasperatedly sent another speech spell her way. She repeated her question as she continued to thin out the horde.

“The—Breach—the tear behind me. I’m not certain but it’s the only thing I could think of—,”

“That’s more than we had a few moments ago so, I’ll—Lavellan!”

At the last step, the elf had tripped, one of the corpses wearing Martin's face grabbed her ankle and she stumbled down. Talia sent an ice spike to his head and Lavellan kicked him away, extending her hand for help. The old woman scrambled to reach for hers, while Talia grasped at Lavellan's other hand to pull her up.

When their palms connected, a burst of pain shot up Talia's arm, and she fell down on her knees at the intensity. Lavellan tried to stand up, but another corpse knocked her down to the ground. As her fingers slipped from Talia's grasp, the pain intensified, and the strange green power sizzled between their hands. The old woman fell forward, unable to support Lavellan's weight.

“Go!” Lavellan shouted at her, as she fought off the corpses pinning her. The old woman attempted to stand, but even in Talia’s haze of pain, she could see that the woman had injured her foot. Likely realizing she would not make it, she turned to Talia and said, “Please, you must go.”

Talia gritted her teeth against the pain in her hand. She slowly staggered up and moved backwards to the ‘tear’. Both their hands still glowed with the same green power, and the last Talia Indoril saw of Talia Lavellan before she crossed the threshold, was her timid smile and determined eyes. She raised her hand and a Firestorm swallowed her and her enemies.

The portal began to close, and Talia felt as if she were being electrocuted. When it was finally shut, the pain decreased to a dull throbbing, and she fell to the ground. Blurry figures of soldiers approached with their swords pointed at her, but she had no strength left in her to fight. The world grew black, and she couldn't help but welcome numbness.

It was like waking from an extremely long nap—one that made you feel more exhausted than rested. Talia became aware of voices speaking, but she couldn't understand what they were saying. The cold seeping through her robes was what she noticed next. She was kneeling on stone, and her legs had lost all semblance of feeling either due to the cold, or her lack of use. A sharp pain in her hand made her gasp and fall forward. One of the guards caught her and pushed her back to her kneeling position.

She wasn’t in her battlemage armor, and her daggers were missing. The only thing they left with her was the Mundane Ring, as it was still on her right finger. Presumably, they didn’t think much of it. Her hands were bound in shackles in front of her, which allowed her to stare at her glowing green hand in morbid fascination. It was a sickeningly disgusting mark, with lines that crept up her palm and onto her fingers like vines on a wall.

Talia looked up from her scrutiny as the door opened, admitting two women.

The two of them looked Imperial, with one of them red-haired, fair skinned and lovely, while the other had cropped black hair, olive skin and an angry glare. The angry one started circling her and spoke in a language similar to Lavellan's, while Red simply looked at her with a passive expression.

Did nobody speak Common in this place? Talia thought as she subtly cast the speech spell on all three of them.

As quickly as she’d cast her spell, the black-haired warrior had her sword at Talia’s neck.

“What was that?” she demanded. “You cast a spell! I felt it!”

Fuck. She was so sure she’d cast silently. Talia assessed her situation quickly before deciding that answering might be the best course of action. “I couldn’t understand a word you were saying,” she replied softly. “It’s just a speech spell.”

“That apostate lied,” she barked. “You are a mage.”

What the fuck was an apostate? Talia was growing more and more bemused, but it seemed this place had a strange aversion to mages. Just her luck. “I’m hardly a mage. It’s only one of the few spells I know.”

If anything, Talia’s response made her even angrier. “You have magic. This means you are a mage. What did you do to the Veil? Was this a part of your plan?” She grabbed Talia’s left hand and the dunmer winced at the sharp pain.

“I don’t know what this is. Or where it came from.” Talia had opted to answer all their questions calmly and steadily. The woman released her in disgust.

“What were you doing at the Conclave?” The redhead spoke for the first time.

“The what?”

“Did you kill the Divine?”

Talia was blinking at the absurdity of the question. “The Divines can’t be killed.”

The dark-haired woman growled in frustration. “We are getting nowhere with this—,”

“You are a Dark Elf, are you not?” The redhead asked quietly.

“What—Leliana—?”

“Let me ask my questions, Cassandra.”

Ah so those were their names. Still, Talia was relieved that at least one of them knew what she was. “I am.”

“You said she was a Qunari halfling.” Cassandra interrupted again.

It seemed the only word Talia’s mind could repeat was, “What?”

“Let me ask my questions, Cassandra,” Leliana repeated forcefully. “You are from Skyrim?"

Skyrim? What did that forsaken place have to do with anything? “I lived there for a time. But I’m a resident of Cyrodiil,” Talia said.

“What are you doing here in Ferelden?”

“Ferelden?”

“Were you sent here to look for Savith Stormcrown?” Leliana asked a bit more harshly.

“The Hero of Ferelden?” Cassandra asked in surprise.

Talia took a deep breath to calm herself. She had no idea what was happening. The words and terminology they used made no sense to her. She was unsure now if she had the correct calculations for the speech spell.

“My name is Talia Indoril. I don’t know where Ferelden is. I don’t know who Savith Stormcrown is. I don’t know how I got here.”

“All I know,” she continued. “Is that I was sent to look at an Oblivion portal that opened near Niben Bay in Cyrodiil. I entered the portal, and I ended up in this…strange, green, realm.”

Cassandra and Leliana exchanged a look. At this point, Talia decided it best not to mention either Lavellan or the old woman, she might end up being blamed for their deaths.

“I just remember running from…corpses? There was a bright light, I think it was the exit? And there was a woman who reached out to me.”

“A woman?” Leliana asked curiously.

“I don’t know,” Talia lied. “My next memory is of waking up in these chains, with this…thing on my hand.” She said in distaste. Whatever it was, it felt malevolent. It seemed to be parasitic in nature, given that it had jumped from Lavellan’s hand to hers. And it was leeching off her strength as well.

“Now can someone please tell me what’s going on?” Frustration and anger were leaking in her tone. Talia was tired, and extremely confused.

Leliana looked at her impassively for a moment before speaking softly. “I’m afraid you’re very far from home.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Leliana?” Cassandra looked disturbed as well.

“There will be explanations later. But right now, there are other, more pressing matters. The next wave of demons from the Breach will be coming.”

Demons? The Breach?

“That’s what we need you for,” Cassandra said bluntly.

“If you agree to help us—,”

Talia had to raise both her hands—still chained though—to stop them from speaking. Her mind was already whirling with all the information they were throwing at her.

They clasped her in irons and now they expected her to help them? It was ludicrous, but it was Talia’s only option. They could simply execute her, but if she cooperated, it could buy her a few more days to plan a better course of action.

“I need an explanation—a short one,” she said quickly when Cassandra growled. “I want to know what exactly I’m agreeing to.”

“At the Conclave—,”

“Assume that I know absolutely nothing,” Talia said plainly.

“There was a Conclave, a ceasefire between mages and Templars who have been at war for about a year. It was a peace meeting, but there was an explosion, and everybody died…except you,” Leliana said.

“There’s a very easy answer to that. I wasn’t at this Conclave.”

Leliana gave her a look before continuing. “After the explosion, the sky ripped open, and the demons rained down upon all of us.”

"I'm sorry, did you say that there are demons pouring out of the sky?" Talia reiterated.

“Yes, and we believe this.” She held up Talia's pulsing hand. "May be the key to closing it."

Talia stared at Leliana and Cassandra before she laughed in disbelief. She'd thought she was done with closing Oblivion portals but of course she wasn't. Fate wasn't that kind.

Perhaps Sheogorath was involved, if her hysterical laughter was any indication.

“I'm afraid we don't have time. Will you help us close this Breach?”

Talia closed her eyes. She wanted to decline. She wanted to go back—back through the portal and to her strange life as Gray Fox, Listener, Arch-Mage and Guild Master. She wanted to go on a killing spree, and incinerate and eviscerate everyone in her way.

“Very well,” she said begrudgingly.

“So you'll help us?” There was a sliver of hope in Cassandra's words, and Talia latched onto it.

"If you agree to explain everything afterward," she said.

Leliana smiled, and although it didn't reach her eyes, it was a start. "Of course." She pulled Talia up.

“Come,” Cassandra said. “We must test your mark on something smaller than the Breach.” And she all but bodily dragged her out of the dungeons.

How did she always end up in these kinds of situations?

Chapter Text

When Talia saw the sky, she finally understood why all of them had sounded so desperate. It looked as if it had been ripped open, and the same green glow that emanated from her hand filled the sky. Although it looked horrible, and was something everyone feared, the Arch-Mage in Talia couldn't help but hope that she would be given the chance to study it. She was fairly certain a mere explosion could not have caused that.

The tear emitted a green glow, and a wisp of energy escaped it and zapped down to the earth. At the same time, the mark on her hand flared, and a wave of pain almost sent Talia to her knees. She gritted her teeth to keep herself from crying out and held her hand close to her chest until the pain subsided to a dull throb.

Cassandra looked at her with surprising neutrality. “When we found you, you would not stop writhing in pain. We’re not sure what the healer did to help you, but he managed to calm it somewhat. We believe that your mark is tied to the Breach; it flares every time the Breach expands.”

Her lips thinned in displeasure, but she did not respond. She shuffled forward, walking a few steps in front of Cassandra. As they passed through tents, the people around jeered and shouted obscenities at her. Keeping her face impassive, she swept her eyes over the people, trying to look for something familiar. But there were no argonians, no khajiit, no altmer, no dunmer, only humans, and these strange bosmers.

“The people are in mourning for our beloved Divine, the Head of our Chantry. She was the only one left who believed that the Mages and Templars could come to an agreement. With her death, the war can only grow even worse.”

Talia decided to keep quiet and let Cassandra speak, hoping it might give her an insight into what was happening. They passed by a wooden gate and crossed a stone bridge, all the while, her hands were tied, and the masses looked on with distrust.

One man stepped forward, shaking his fists at her. “Begone, abomination! We want none of your kind here!”

To her surprise, Cassandra stepped in front of her to shield her from the potential assailant. “She is not an abomination.”

“Tell that to her blood red eyes! She drinks the blood of innocents she does!”

Like Lavellan, it seemed like everyone around had never seen a dunmer before. The people were already convinced of her guilt, it did not help that she looked different from everyone else.

Cassandra ushered Talia away as the man continued to shout at her. “Your appearance unnerves them. It is easy for them to forget that the Hero of Ferelden was the same as you.” She looked slightly guilty, and Talia realized that in her anger, Cassandra had also forgotten.

“Come.” She expected the woman to untie her, but Cassandra simply grabbed her by the arm and guided her out the gate into the valley. Talia could hear a few prayers addressed to their god, and she frowned. The Maker? Perhaps they were talking about Akatosh? Still, no one had ever ascribed the creation of the entire Mundus to Akatosh or Auri-El.

As they made their way to the rift, a blast of green light descended on them. Cassandra drew her longsword and shield. When the blast hit the ground, it brought with it some of the strangest creatures Talia had ever seen.

One of them was grey and purplish-black, and it looked like a wraith crossed with a snake. She couldn't determine if the thing had a face, as it was hunched back. But it did have two long arms with sharp nails. Instead of legs, its robes extended past where its feet should be, and it slithered towards them.

The other that appeared was something like the ghost she often encountered in crypts and Ayleid Ruins, but this one was as green as the mark on her hand.

Talia contented herself with watching Cassandra pummel the demons with her sword and shield. It seemed the woman was a seasoned fighter. She held her sword and shield with confidence, and there was no hesitation as she twisted and turned to slash and block against the creatures. Once she was done, Cassandra beckoned to Talia.

They continued their journey and passed by frozen rivers and Cassandra killed many a demon before they reached their destination. Soldiers were spread around as they tried to tackle the creatures around them. Among them was a bosmer mage and—was that an…extremely short human wielding a crossbow? No—he was something else. Another race perhaps?

Where in Oblivion was she?

Talia stayed out of the way as much as possible, but one of the ghosts seemed to think her an interesting target. It sent a bolt of green energy towards her, and she didn't move away fast enough. A part of the spell washed over her, and tiredness suddenly hit her muscles—a basic fatigue spell. She couldn't explain the exact difference, but the magic felt strange, foreign. A small huff of amusement escaped her lips as part of the spell reflected back to the creature and hit it squarely on the chest. The Mundane Ring was very useful, and she was glad she brought it with her.

When the fighting was over, she stepped forward, unsure of what they needed from her. The bosmer mage grabbed her hands and pointed them in the direction of the rift.

It felt nothing like closing an Oblivion Gate; this seemed a little more intimate, as if the power was truly coming from her. Her hand and the rift connected with a green electric energy, and she could feel it closing, as if it were being sucked into her hand. She felt a sudden shift in magic, as if her hand had accumulated too much, and she pulled it back.

The rift imploded, and all that was left was some green residue on the stone floor.

Interesting, she thought as she stared at her hand critically.

“It appears my theory was correct,” the bald elf spoke from beside her.

“That it was, Chuckles,” the man with the crossbow said. When he saw Talia looking at him, he introduced himself with a playful flourish. "Varric Tethras, at your service."

Talia simply nodded at him and said, "Talia Indoril." They wouldn’t be able to understand her if she said anything more.

"Say, are you related to the Hero of Ferelden?" Varric asked. When Talia shook her head, he added. "You look a lot like her. But I suppose you lot would look similar in appearance."

There it was again, her strange likeness to this Hero of Ferelden. She hoped she would meet this woman, if only to see another dunmer in this strange land.

“And I am Solas.” Talia turned back to the elf as he spoke, and she inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I have never met one of your kind before. Although you could pass for a Qunari if you were taller, it is the eyes that differentiate you. Are they usual for your kind? Or is it only you?" he asked curiously.

Talia kept her expression neutral, but she grew bemused. What? My kind? Qunari? Was this the cover story Leliana had told the others?

“She does not speak often,” Cassandra said as Solas raised an eyebrow at her silence. Talia was mildly surprised that Cassandra hadn’t asked her to cast a speech spell on the two others. "Solas, does this mean her mark will work on the Breach?"

“Possibly. If it does not kill her first.”

Talia sorely wished to glare at him and had to fight to keep her expression neutral.

“Great news! It seems we'll be spending a lot more time together, Red-Eye.” Varric winked at her. Talia couldn’t tell if it was a slur or a nickname, though given his disposition, she would guess it was the latter.

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra spluttered.

“Have you been in the valley recently, Seeker? Your soldiers aren't in control anymore. You need me.” He punctuated the sentence with a smug smile. Talia supposed anyone would have that expression on their face after managing to one-up the grumpy soldier. Cassandra made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat before shaking her head and throwing her arms up in resignation.

“I studied the mark while you slept, but the magic that caused both the Breach and your mark, is unlike anything I've ever seen before.” He turned towards Cassandra. “Your prisoner is no mage. Though, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

At that statement, Talia's eyebrows shot to her hairline. Solas said it so matter-of-factly that she believed he truly thought she had no magical talent at all.

Cassandra pursed her lips, but did not correct Solas. Talia was certain she did not trust the mage. “Understood.” Cassandra inclined her head. “Let us head to the forward camp, immediately.”

Talia cleared her throat, and all three of them turned to look at her. She raised her bound hands and silently communicated for them to release her bonds.

“You must be joking,” Cassandra said flatly as she realized what Talia wanted.

Varric shrugged. “I think it's pretty clear that our friend here isn't likely to run off and hide in the woods.”

“And if that is not enough, remember that her life is on the line because of that mark,” Solas commented, and this time, Talia could not stop herself from giving him a look of displeasure.

Cassandra sighed and cut off the rope binding her. "Do not make me regret this," she threatened her as she moved forward and led them to the camp.

“Ah, don't worry about the Seeker, Red-Eye. She's just on edge.” At Talia's raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “She's what you call The Right Hand of the Divine. Her job is to keep the Divine safe. And well, that Divine died on her watch.”

Talia nodded in understanding. At his words, her mind flashed back to the time Uriel Septim died. Baurus looked like he had been a few suggestions away from committing suicide. The Emperor should only fall, when all the Blades have perished. But Baurus seemed more grounded than Cassandra was. She only hoped the woman would realize she couldn't have saved the Divine from an explosion.

There was another rift blocking the gates to the forward camp. Talia hung back as demons emerged from it. There were too many for the three of them to dispatch easily, and she was forced to grab a discarded shield to defend herself. When at last all the demons had been destroyed, Talia needed no more prompting from Solas, and she raised her hand to the Rift. It closed with a pop and showered them with that disgusting green sludge.

“What is this?” Varric commented as he tried to scrape the slime off his shoe. “Fade shit?”

“Remnants of the Fade. It is—” Solas began.

“You realize no one actually cares? Right, Chuckles?”

Talia’s mouth twitched upwards in amusement.

As they made their way forward, the dunmer spied Leliana standing near a makeshift table at the end of the stone bridge. She was speaking with a man in robes the same color as the old woman's in the Fade.

When Leliana spotted them, she flagged them down. The man beside her grew increasingly upset as they approached. “What is this…this thing doing here?” He turned his accusing glance to Cassandra. “As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I order you that you bring this thing to Val Royeaux to face execution!"

Talia kept her expression neutral, though to her surprise, she could see both Solas and Varric bristling in offense.

"'Order me'?" Cassandra said, her voice rising with anger. “You are a glorified clerk! A bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug! A thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!"

“Uh oh, he's in for it now,” Varric muttered. Talia silently concurred. From what little she'd seen of Cassandra, she was most definitely not someone you would call a “thug” and live to tell the tale.

“Your impassioned plea is noted, Chancellor,” Leliana interrupted before Cassandra could explode. “But we waste our time speaking when we should be taking action.”

“Action?” Roderick said furiously. “You should be calling a retreat! We’ve lost too many.”

Cassandra seemed to have had enough of the man. “Then you leave. We do not have need of flapping mouths here, but able-bodied men who can take arms and fight!”

At Talia’s side, Varric hid a grin behind his fist.

As Roderick stomped away in anger, Leliana sighed and turned to the group. “Getting her to the Breach will be difficult.”

“What did you have in mind?” Cassandra asked.

“The mountain path. I know.” She raised a hand to forestall Cassandra’s words. “But we might not survive a frontal assault, and if Talia perishes before we get her to the Breach…”

“Very well.” Talia could see that Cassandra wasn't pleased, but she backed down.

“Talia? A word?” Leliana drew her away from the group.

At Talia’s questioning glance, she said, “I had a feeling you haven’t cast that Translation spell on anyone else besides me and Cassandra. The fewer people to hear about this the better.”

Quite astute of her, Talia thought in surprise.

“What are your preferred weapons?” Leliana asked.

Talia pondered her answer. She was far from defenseless—magic was her most powerful weapon—but judging from the way they reacted when she cast a speech spell, she didn’t want to know what they’d do if they found out exactly what she could do with magic.

“Daggers, if you have them,” she replied quietly, ensuring the others couldn’t hear her speak. Since everything she owned had probably been confiscated and inspected by Leliana, Talia couldn’t really lie about it. She sincerely hoped nobody would try to steal her Blade of Woe, or there’d be consequences, she thought darkly.

Leliana gave her a nod before handing over a pair of daggers she had with her. Talia dropped the shield she was carrying and took the blades. They were longer than what she was used to, but they were light and well-made. She swung experimentally before Cassandra called for her. Leliana gave her an assessing look before turning away and letting Talia catch up to the rest of the group.

The four of them climbed a number of wooden scaffoldings before managing to enter a part of the old temple. The cold was unforgiving, and Talia wondered how the other three seemed to be completely at ease with the harsh weather. Even the inside of the temple was filled with icy stalactites.

They found a few soldiers fighting against some demons at the end of the path, and she had the opportunity to test out her new weapons. Once she closed the rift, Cassandra gave her a look. “You are quite competent with those daggers.” How she managed to make an innocuous comment sound accusatory, Talia had no idea. Instead of answering, the dunmer turned to one of the soldiers on the floor and offered a hand to help her up.

"Thank you if not for you I'd—" the woman fell silent her eyes made contact with Talia's. With a gasp she immediately let go of her hand and it was only due to Talia's reflexes that she managed to bring a dagger up in time to block the soldier's blade.

"Abomination!" she screeched, but before she could bring her blade back down onto Talia, Cassandra was there, blocking her with her shield.

"Enough!" Cassandra bellowed. The soldier scrambled to her feet but did not sheathe her sword.

"But, Seeker, that is—"

"I said enough!" she shouted. "Do you think me a fool that I would not know an Abomination when I see one?"

The soldier blanched. "I meant no disrespect ser, but—"

"She is not an Abomination,” Cassandra said firmly.

As Talia watched the display, Solas spoke from her side. "The Seeker had me and Commander Cullen—a former templar—examine you while you were unconscious. Both of us knew you were a person, and not a demon or a spirit—but it was not until you woke up that Seeker Pentaghast was sure you were not an Abomination."

She wished she had cast a speech spell on Solas so she could ask him questions. What were Abominations? Were they human or elf-looking demons with glowing red eyes? By their usage, it seemed to have a deeper meaning than what the term implied.

Talia did not need anyone to point it out when they'd finally reached the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They were surrounded with ash, dust and debris. Rocks that bordered the structure had glowing green lines in their crevices. There were several burned bodies around the area, and Talia averted her eyes; it reminded her too much of another desolate place.

“That is where you walked out of the Fade.” Cassandra pointed at a nondescript spot. “They say a woman was in the rift behind you, no one knows who she was.”

Talia had a sinking feeling she already knew who the woman was.

They went deeper down into the temple, and when they rounded the corner, Talia finally saw the Breach up close.

Varric whistled. "The Breach is a long way up."

Talia stared at the rift and the glowing energy that snaked its way up to the hole in the sky.

Beside her, Solas too, was observing the rift with interest. "This Rift is the first, if we close this, it will likely seal the Breach."

Talia ignored him in favor of gathering her thoughts about this ‘Ferelden’. Sheogorath’s portal had displaced her and sent her far—farther than anyone from Tamriel had probably even explored. Briefly, she wondered if this was Akavir, but there were too many humans and not enough beastfolk or mer that it couldn’t be where she was. But ending up on a different continent didn’t explain the foreign feeling of their magic, or this entire ‘Fade’ business. She doubted even the Telvanni mages could tell her what was going on.

The Breach didn’t seem to be an Oblivion Gate, and the demons that escaped the rift didn’t look like any daedra Talia had ever seen. Then there was the strange thing on her hand. She looked down and observed the glowing mark with distaste. The magic on her mark felt invasive, but more than that, it didn’t even feel like magic—not like anything that could be cast with magicka, or even by the daedra.

"You're here! Thank the Maker," a voice said from behind them, and Talia saw Leliana jog up to where they were.

"Leliana, have your men position themselves around the temple," Casandra said, and the redhead simply nodded and went to relay the orders to the men. She turned to Talia, "This is your chance to end it, are you ready?"

Talia nodded her assent; it was best to get it over with quickly.

"Then let's find a way down, and everyone: be on your guard."

Talia had to run around the perimeter of the temple to find a way down. As they descended, she noticed a number of glowing red crystals protruding from the ground.

"That's red lyrium," Varric said in horror and disgust. It was the first time Talia saw him unnerved.

"I can see it, Varric," Cassandra replied dryly.

"But what's it doing here?"

"The magic from the explosion may have drawn the lyrium from below the Temple, and corrupted it in the process," Solas commented. The entire conversation flew over Talia's head. What was lyrium? Why was it important? Why did it matter if this one was red and how was it related to magic? She needed answers.

As they were making their way down, a voice resonated in the temple. "Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."

The sacrifice? Talia scowled.

"What are we hearing?" Cassandra sounded rattled.

"At a guess: the person responsible for the Breach," Solas answered.

As they finally reached the ground, the three of them approached the rift. It was not sealed, but it was not open—strange crystalline formations played around its surface, twisting and turning, continuously changing shape.

"Someone! Help!" A different voice shouted out, and Talia recognized it.

"That is Divine Justinia!" Cassandra exclaimed, and Talia finally acknowledged that the woman she saw in the Fade was the missing Divine.

"What is going on here?" Another familiar voice spoke.

This time, Talia could not help but speak her name. "Lavellan," she said softly. She glanced down at her mark; it seemed to pulse as she grew closer to the rift. A bright light flashed, and a green film descended upon them, melting away their surroundings, and showing them a glimpse of what happened.

A dark shadowy figure—not unlike a wraith—was standing in front of the old woman she saw in the Fade. Her arms were pinned to her sides by an unknown force. Talia heard footsteps at the side, and she saw Lavellan running towards them.

"What's going on here?" she shouted.

"Run! Run while you can! Warn them!" Justinia called to her.

"We have an intruder," the wraith spoke. "Kill her, now!"

At those words, another bright light shone, and the world was back to its original state.

"Who was that woman? I heard you say something when you saw her," Cassandra said.

"Lavellan," Talia murmured remembering the young girl with bright eyes. She kept her voice low so that Cassandra was the only one to hear her.

"How do you know her? And the Divine? Is she…Was the vision true? What are we seeing?" she demanded.

"Echoes of what happened here," Solas explained. "The Fade bleeds into this place. The rift is not sealed, but it is temporarily closed. With the mark, I believe the rift can be opened, then sealed safely and properly. However, opening the rift will likely attract the attention of demons."

"Stand ready, men!" Cassandra rallied the soldiers. Talia waited for them to get into position before raising her hand to open the rift.

It was a different feeling from closing it. It was as if she were pouring her energy into it, little by little until—

The world exploded, and Talia was thrown back its force. As she struggled back up, she saw a large figure stepping out of the rift, and Talia was not surprised it was again something she’d never seen before.

It was larger than an Ogre or a Minotaur Lord, and those were some of the bigger beasts she usually encountered. At her full height, she only barely came up to the demon’s knees. It was humanoid—it had a pair of arms and legs—but it seemed to be covered in thick spikes. There seemed to be a magical barrier around the creature, although she believed it was due to the rift.

“Pride Demon!” Cassandra shouted as she banged her sword and shield to rally the men.

Talia raised her hand, and she felt her mark connect to the rift. Once she felt her hand couldn't take any more, she pulled it back and the rift pulsed. The demon fell onto its knees at the loss of the rift's power.

Cassandra gave her a brief glance before continuing her assault on the creature. "Strip it of its defenses! Wear it down!"

Talia was caught unawares by a lightning projectile from the demon, and was now glad more than ever that she was wearing the Mundane Ring. She was thrown off her feet and her back hit the cold stone wall.

To Oblivion with this place, Talia thought angrily.

As discreetly as she could, she threw on every lightning resistant spell she could on herself and made her way to the demon, slashing at its legs with a ferocity that would have made her Mother proud. She stood fast when the demon hit her with a lightning whip, and she didn't stop as it barely had any effect on her. She turned to see the rift back to its crystalline state, and while the demon was preoccupied, she connected her mark with it once again.

The demon became weakened, but as it approached its doom, Talia realized it also became angrier. It lashed out with its arm and caught both Cassandra and Leliana in one swipe. With another, she saw the demon grab Varric with one hand, preparing to pound him to the ground.

She needed to end this, now.

Talia sprinted towards the demon. It was too preoccupied with Solas, who was sending bolt after bolt towards it, to notice her. Using her momentum, she catapulted herself off a tall stone and buried both blades into the demon's face. It roared as it was blinded and dropped Varric in the process. It tried to grab at her, but she hoisted herself on top of its head. Talia hooked her feet at the underside of its head, withdrew her blade, and with a loud roar to rival the demon's, she plunged both of them deeper into the demon's skull. Using the daggers as a medium, she sent the most powerful entropic spell she knew into it.

It thrashed and it twisted and turned, but Talia held fast, and the demon finally fell down, defeated. Talia rolled off it, adrenaline still pumping, and pushed her hand in the direction of rift.

As with the others, she could feel it filling her hand, but this time, she didn't pull it back. When it grew too much for her hand, the rift pulsed, and a blast of hot air spread from the rift. Pain lanced up her arm, and exhaustion took over. As her world slowly grew black, the last thing she heard was Varric's words.

“Holy shit.”

Chapter Text

Talia woke with a start; she'd heard a small noise and felt a presence in her room. Her usual dagger was not under her pillow, so she raised her hand, a spell on her lips, and she barely stopped herself from blasting the elven servant into Oblivion.

The young elf stared at her in absolute fear. As Talia lowered her hand, the servant looked as if she were about to faint. Talia recast the speech spell on both of them, so she could question the girl.

As she opened her mouth to speak, the girl fell to her knees and bowed.

To say Talia was dumbfounded was an understatement. Why was this servant girl prostrating herself in front of her? Hadn't they decided she was a demonic murderer that killed innocents and drank the blood of children? But then again, she more than anyone else, was very familiar with how fickle the minds of the masses were.

"I-I beg your forgiveness, and ask for your b-b-blessing," she stuttered.

When she stayed silent, the elf continued. “I h-humbly thank you for saving our lives. Your Divine mark—”

“How long have I been resting?” she interrupted.

“It…it’s been three days, my lady.”

Three days? Had she been unconscious that long?

“I see,” she said. “You are dismissed.”

"O-of course! Lady Cassandra will want to know that you've wakened. Sh-she's in the Chantry." The elf would not stop bowing until she left the room. As soon as the doors were shut, Talia flopped back down on her bed.

By Sithis, she'd hoped it was all a bad dream—but even in her dreams, she'd never been in a situation as horrible as this. Talia brought her hand up to her face to examine the mark. It glowed slightly, but it no longer pulsed, and the pain that accompanied it was gone.

She was in one of the cottages, presumably still in that small village near the Temple. Fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace and filled the room with a semblance of warmth, though Talia still felt the cold draft entering through small crevices between the wood.

Her pack was on the only table in the room, and when she checked it, she sighed in relief to find all her belongings still intact. Her Blade of Woe and Sufferthorn were on the desk, together with her throwing needles. Her archmage robes were hung over a chair, and her boots were neatly lined up by the door.

Before she went to see Cassandra, Talia first had to figure out how she was going to present herself. In the past days, she’d only been quiet. It could be attributed to the shock at being forced into such a role; they didn't need to know she simply wished to observe them. Talia wasn't stupid enough to trust these people—they thrust her in a cell, threatened her, called her an 'Abomination', and if what the young elf said was true, then she was now seen as their Savior.

What she needed to do was to turn this opportunity into something that would benefit her. But how?

She could present herself as a devout follower of their religion. She'd posed as a priestess of Mara before; it was how she introduced herself to Jauffre. Although the lie did not hold up until the end, she played her role very well.

She would make herself a loved member of their faith—and that was the easiest way to manipulate their minds. Talia could play the part of modest, unassuming, naïve girl, always looking to them for advice. And she would look pliable enough to convert to their religion, and truly believe she was sent by whichever Divine beings they worshipped. Acting gentle and kind would also win her points with the masses; they loved those kinds of people.

No sooner than she’d thought it, she cast aside the idea. Nobody would believe it, and it wouldn’t do for her to underestimate the intellect of these people. Perhaps when she was younger, she would have been able to pull it off. But her skills had dulled over time, and Leliana had incredibly sharp eyes.

For a moment, she considered just coming as she is—cold, unforgiving and ruthless, but she dismissed it just as quickly. As a stranger to this land, they would never trust her with any kind of power if they thought she would abuse it, and she definitely needed power if she wanted to find a way back to Tamriel.

Acting kind and gentle could work on the masses, but likely not on Leliana or Cassandra. Talia couldn’t say she was the Archmage, or any of her other unsavory titles. And she was most certainly not telling them about being the Champion of Cyrodiil; it was a complication she didn’t need.

So, what to do?

The first rule about creating a persona for long-term, deep cover missions, she remembered Vicente’s lecture, was to make sure it was close enough to the truth that you didn’t forget it, but far enough that no one could describe you properly after you leave.

And the closest she could get to the truth without having to tell them about being a thief, assassin or mage, was that she was a Blade, and a mercenary from the Fighter’s Guild. Someone quiet, amiable, content to follow orders and let others make the decisions, but won’t necessarily back down from a fight. Polite, refined, kind.

She needed information to develop a more concrete plan, but it was a start. After putting on her battlemage robes and sheathing her daggers, Talia conditioned herself to her role. She stared at herself in the mirror; it had been a long time since she needed to put on a mask other than her expressionless one. Once she was satisfied with the genuineness of her smile, she set out to find Cassandra.

As she exited her cottage, a group of soldiers immediately saluted her. Unsure of how to respond, she merely smiled and nodded at them.

“It's her!” She heard one whisper.

“The Herald of Andraste!”

The Herald of What?

One of the townsfolk broke away from the crowd and went down on his knees in front of her.

“M-my lady! I ask for your forgiveness! I am but a humble servant of the Maker!” As Talia studied the man, she realized that he was the one who had stepped in front of Cassandra and called her an Abomination.

Perhaps now was a good time to practice. The Maker was obviously their god, but then who was Andraste? Talia touched the man's shoulder to subtly cast the speech spell on him. Deciding on a general religious saying, she leaned forward and spoke softly.

“The Maker judges all of our actions, brother. It is His forgiveness that you should earn.” She gave him a gentle smile.

Sithis take your soul.

It seemed to be the right thing to say, for the man broke into hysterical sobs, all the while thanking her. “You shame me, Herald! I shall repent! Whatever you ask of me, I will do it!”

Talia mentally patted herself on the back. “Then do your best to serve the Maker, brother.”

The Chantry was not difficult to spot—it was the largest structure in the area. The crowd parted easily as she walked to the temple; they seemed content to simply gaze upon their herald. A few, more daring ones reached out to dab a cloth against her, then quickly wipe it on their person, as if whatever miracle brought her there would somehow be transferred to them. Talia fixed the gentle smile on her face, even though she was turning homicidal with every step she took.

Once she reached the Chantry, one of the soldiers bowed to her and directed her to the room at the end of the hall. There were refugees on their knees, saying prayers to their god.

"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide…"

"O Maker, hear me cry. Guide me through the blackest nights…"

Talia tucked away those phrases in the back of her mind. If she was to play prophet, one of those lines would come in handy soon.

She could already hear raised voices as she approached the door; it seemed that bumbling fool Roderick was back. All three occupants were in the middle of a heated argument, and she took the opportunity to send speech spells at them. She would need to figure out an easier way to speak with them, perhaps an enchantment, or a more permanent spell. It was a good thing she'd brought her research with her.

 “—seem to have forgotten, Chancellor, that the Breach threatens us all. I will not stand idly by while it still remains.” Cassandra was saying.

“And the prisoner?” Roderick gestured wildly at Talia. “Why has it not been clapped in chains and led to—”

“She almost died sealing the rifts!” Cassandra defended, and Talia’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“So we simply ignore that she is the most likely suspect?”

“Chancellor Roderick, you must be reasonable. Talia defended us, and helped us stabilize the Breach,” Leliana said. “Those are not the actions of a guilty woman.”

"Be that as it may, you have no authority to decide upon this matter—" Roderick was cut off; Cassandra slammed a thick book down on the desk in front of them with such force that the candlesticks rattled.

"Do you know what this is, Chancellor?" Cassandra said dangerously. "It is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

Cassandra advanced on Roderick, who backed up as she got closer. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval." She punctuated her sentence with a jab of her finger to Roderick's chest. The Chancellor simply glared at her in disgust, but knowing he'd lost the battle, he left the room without another word.

Talia's respect for Cassandra went up a notch.

The warrior turned to her. "Leliana and I were not planning to announce it in that manner, and we have been meaning to talk to you."

“That most definitely was not part of the plan,” Leliana sighed softly. “But we did wish to speak with you.”

“I wanted to talk to both of you as well,” Talia said. She already knew they would ask her to join the Inquisition, since she was the only one who could close the Fade Rifts. Talia knew she didn't have a choice. They could simply blackmail her, hand her over to Roderick and be tried for crimes she didn't commit. She could run, of course, but it would be impossible to blend into the background, with no other dunmer around. The fact that she knew next to nothing about this place also came to her mind. Besides, if this ‘Inquisition’ would grow, she could gain access to research and other means to figure out how to return to Tamriel.

Cassandra extended her hand to Talia. "You are our only hope of closing the Fade Rifts, and consequently, the Breach. Will you stand by the Inquisition? Will you help us?"

Talia hesitated slightly, before shaking Cassandra's hand.

"I'll do my best," she said. "For now, I believe Leliana has some answers to give me?”

Leliana inclined her head and left the room. "I will call for both Josephine and Commander Cullen, I believe they should be privy to this information as well."

When Leliana returned, she was followed by two other people. One was a blonde, stern-looking man who looked like he'd seen his fair share of warfare; the other, was a beautiful, olive-skinned woman, wearing a golden blouse with puffy sleeves.

"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," Cassandra introduced her. Talia shook the woman's hand briefly, casting the speech spell on touch.

"How do you do?" Talia asked politely.

"And this is Commander Cullen, the leader of our forces." As Talia shook his hand, she also cast the spell on him, but was taken aback when he stiffened and grabbed her wrist.

"What did you do?" he asked dangerously. Talia could only stare at him. Was he a mage?

"Commander—" Cassandra started to say.

"I said, what did you do, mage?" he repeated. Talia could have escaped his grip in various ways, but she refrained from doing so.

"Mage?" Josephine looked surprised.

“Kindly let go of me, Commander,” Talia said firmly.

"Release her, Commander," Leliana said in a low voice. Cullen gave her a look before letting go of her. Talia refused to shake her hand, as much as the man’s grip had hurt.

“I want an explanation,” he demanded.

“Calm down, Commander. It is nothing but a Translation spell.” Leliana said.

"A Translation spell? Is that why I can hear you speaking in Antivan and King's Tongue?" Josephine asked.

"I cannot speak your language," Talia confirmed. "And you cannot speak mine, so I needed to cast the spell on all of you."

"So you are a mage?" Cullen asked warily. "But I examined you myself. Solas did as well. There was no trace of magic in you."

“Perhaps Leliana can explain.” She turned to the redhead.

"Talia is not from around here," Leliana began, then paused, as if looking for the words to describe.

"You said she was a half-ling. Born of the union between a Qunari and an elf." Cassandra said.

“Frankly, I’ve no idea what that is,” Talia cut in. “I’m a dunmer, a dark elf.”

“A what?” Josephine asked in bemusement.

“As far as I can tell, since no one has ever seen a dunmer before, I don’t speak your language, there are other races I’ve never seen before; it can only point to one explanation: I’m in a different continent. Probably somewhere far south? Or west of Tamriel.”

They all looked nonplussed at her explanation, except Leliana, who had pursed her lips.

“There is one other explanation, the one that Savith, the dunmer who came before you, concluded.”

Talia gestured for her to go on.

“Rather than another continent. You come from another world, entirely.”

The silence that followed that revelation was deafening. Talia was too busy staring at Leliana incredulously to see the others’ reaction.

The Commander was the first to recover. "From another world? That’s preposterous."

But Talia wasn’t as quick to dismiss it. Another world, different from Nirn then? From Mundus? If Leliana had told her this earlier, she would have called her a lunatic. But it explained the foreign nature of their magic, the Fade, the lack of mer and beastfolk...

“How did she come to this conclusion?” Talia asked, cutting off whatever Cullen and Cassandra were saying.

“She told me it was the stars; she couldn’t find any of the constellations, and the second moon was missing.”

Talia was stunned, but Cullen didn’t seem impressed.

“The position of the stars? That was all she had to go on?” he asked incredulously.

“No,” Talia spoke up, and all four turned to her. “The stars and all other astral bodies have a large significance to us, to the people of Nirn. They symbolize the creation of Nirn, the escape of the et’Ada to Aetherius—I’ll spare you the details,” she cut herself off when they all looked confused. “The point is, if you can’t find any of the constellations, it means I’m really not on Nirn.”

Talia felt dizzy, the enormity of her situation was bearing down on her. What did this mean for her? For everything she’d left on Nirn? For the Guild, the Arcane University, the Brotherhood? She closed her eyes and massaged her temples.

What did I get myself into?

“But then how did you get here?” Josephine asked curiously. It didn’t escape Talia’s notice that she was writing everything on the vellum she was carrying around.

Talia sighed and willed herself to open her eyes. “I don't exactly know. I was investigating a portal, and when I entered it, it brought me to the…Fade.” She tested the word out.

“Then, you were not even at the Conclave when the Most Holy perished,” Cassandra said.

I already said this earlier, she thought, irritated. "No, I didn't even know what the Conclave was. Or what a Divine was."

"You can't seriously be considering this?" Cullen said incredulously. "Another world? I am willing to believe that the Maker brought you to us for a reason, but to say you are from an entirely different universe…that is too much."

Talia wanted to roll her eyes. He could believe that she'd been sent down by some unnamed and unseen divine being, but he didn't want to acknowledge the possibility of different planes of existence?

“Where was this portal supposed to lead to?” Josephine asked curiously.

“A plane of Oblivion…possibly the Shivering Isles.” Talia let out a small laugh. “Not another world, that’s for certain.”

Or was it? Sheogorath was extremely unpredictable, and he was known to toy with mortals’ lives. But Talia didn’t believe he alone had that much power.

“And how can we be sure you aren’t responsible for this…magical accident?” Cullen was like a dog with a bone. “You can cast spells; that means you’re an apostate.”

"I'm hardly a mage," she lied. "Where I come from, everyone is born with the ability to cast simple spells. But their proficiency in it is how you can classify someone as a mage."

“If what you're saying is true, then all of those people run the risk of turning into Abominations," Cullen said with chagrin.

Talia looked at him curiously. "What is an Abomination? There was a man who called me that the other day."

"An Abomination is a living thing who's been possessed by a demon. Mages are the most susceptible to possession, because of their connection to the Fade. They're very dangerous. There was one that wreaked havoc on an entire village, almost killing everyone in its wake.” Cullen looked slightly abashed at his next words. "They sometimes have glowing red eyes, which is I believe, the reason they accused you of being one."

How horrific. And the mages were locked up simply because there was a chance that they'd be possessed? What kind of barbaric, backwater world was this?

"This…Fade doesn't exist in our world," Talia explained. "We obtain our magicka from Aetherius…it's difficult to explain."

"So…no Abominations? No demons?" Cullen looked like he was caught between awe and skepticism.

"No Abominations," she confirmed. "But demons? Well, it depends on what you classify as demons." They didn't have the things that fell out of Fade rifts. But as she thought of Dagon, his followers, daedra spilling out of the Oblivion gates…yes, it was a matter of perspective.

"What a strange land," Josephine mused.

There was no doubt that none of them would have survived ten minutes in Tamriel. If the appearance of a Dark Elf unnerved them, what would have happened if they encountered Khajiit or Argonians?

“And this…Translation Spell, are you telling us performing this spell doesn’t even label you as a mage?” Cullen asked skeptically.

Talia shrugged. She wasn’t about to admit she had developed the spell. “No, it doesn’t. It’s a commonly used spell back where I’m from. I do a lot of travelling, and I don’t always know how to communicate with my clients.”

“Clients?” Leliana honed in on her words, and Talia kept her voice neutral as she replied.

“Yes. I’m a member of the Fighter’s Guild in Cyrodiil. We’re probably one of the more well-known mercenary guilds in Tamriel.”

The Spymaster’s eyes flickered to Talia’s waist, where she was keeping her sheathed daggers, and she could tell that she didn’t believe her story.

“So, you’re a seasoned fighter then?” Josephine asked.

Talia nodded. “I suppose you could call me that. I mostly work with daggers, and bows. Though I do have some skill with the short sword.”

Leliana made a noncommittal noise, but otherwise, didn’t comment on it.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” Talia continued. “If possible, I’d like to borrow some books.”

“Books?” Leliana tilted her head to the side.

“I’d like to understand this place…the customs. More about Andraste and the Maker, as well.”

"Why?" Cassandra asked bluntly.

Talia shrugged. “He’s your deity, and you’ve mentioned the possibility that my being brought here was his will.”

Cullen scrunched his eyebrows. “You believe in the Maker?” he asked incredulously.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Talia asked in bemusement. It was true, that she didn’t believe this Maker was the sole creator of this world. Nor would she ever worship him. But if Talia knew anything about gods, it was that they often existed, but not in the way people usually thought. For now, she simply didn’t have a reason to doubt his existence.

All four of them looked inordinately pleased at her words.

“I would also—,”

“What I’d like to know is how you killed that Pride Demon,” Cullen interjected.

“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to convey confusion. “I buried two swords in its head.”

"When you stabbed him again, we saw you glow," Cassandra said. "It was only for a moment, but I saw it. Orange, like flames." There was a slight widening of her eyes. Sometimes it was better to leave them with their own assumptions of what happened. Of course, the orange light had been the glow of an entropic spell, but they didn't need to know that.

“Glow?” She asked in a surprised tone.

“And I saw you charge in there; you weren’t affected by the lightning spells.”

Oh, Cullen was a sharp one. She’d thought they would be too busy to notice that. Talia shifted deliberately and slumped her shoulders. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” she admitted.

“Oh?” Cullen leaned forward, no doubt waiting for her to confess to being a mage.

“I don’t like telling this to others, but…” she held out her right hand and slipped the Mundane Ring off her finger. “Here.” She offered it to Cullen, who took it in bemusement and inspected it.

“Your ring?” Leliana asked. Cullen handed the ring over to her, and she too, looked at it in scrutiny.

Talia nodded. “I won it in a fight a long time ago.” More like, pried it off Mankar Camoran’s cold corpse. “It’s called the Mundane Ring. And acts somewhat as a shield. It absorbs part of spells cast in my direction and reflects it back to the caster.”

“Oh.” Cullen looked rather put out, and Talia resisted the urge to smirk.

“I don’t tell anyone since they mostly assume it’s just a fancy piece of jewelry. It’s saved my life a couple of times.” Talia took a deep breath. “I’d rather people remain clueless about it.”

Leliana handed back the ring. “Of course.”

“And what of the glow?” Cullen persisted.

“I don’t know.” Talia lied baldly.

“You don’t know?” he said flatly.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Commander. I’ve already told you everything I know and all I remember. I’ve told you about Tamriel, and my being a dunmer. What else do you want from me?” Talia allowed some frustration to leak from her voice, and as she expected, Cullen backed off.

“I—it’s—my apologies.” He rubbed the back of his neck, which had turned red in either annoyance or mortification. “It’s been a trying couple of days.”

Talia didn’t respond, save for an annoyed sigh, and allowed the uncomfortable silence to reign in the room.

“It is likely that you will be part of the excursions around the area.” Josephine changed the subject. “The masses are intrigued by you; we've already heard people declaring you as the 'Herald of Andraste'."

Talia nodded slowly. "I'm not sure what else I can do, but I'll help in every way I can,"

"Of course," Leliana said. "We will ask someone to bring you the books we have here at Haven. We'd also like to know more about your land, but we can discuss it at a later date." It was a clear dismissal, one that Talia heeded.

"All right." She inclined her head. "Thank you.” And with those words, Talia swept out of the room. Glancing subtly about to see if there was anyone around, she entered an empty room and slipped on the Ring of Khajiti. While she was sure that she had played her role well, she needed to know their thoughts.

Casting an invisibility spell as a precaution, she took the opportunity to reenter the war room when a scout brought in a report for Leliana. Keeping her steps silent, she slipped past the door and settled in a dark corner. It was a relief to drop her mask, even for a moment. She'd forgotten how tiring it was to maintain it, especially one so different from her personality.

As soon as the scout left, the four returned to their previous topic.

“Another world? Really?” Cullen scoffed.

"And how would you explain never having seen anyone like her? Except the Hero of Ferelden, who has also admitted to me that she was not from our world." Leliana challenged.

"And how sure are we that you are not harboring her secrets to exploit it later?”

"Do not insult me, Commander. Everything I have done has been for the Most Holy, and all my efforts now are towards the betterment of the Inquisition."

"Forgive me, my words were ill-thought."

Leliana gave him a stiff nod.

"I admit, this is all a bit difficult to swallow," Josephine said. "But where she has come from is not a major concern as of this moment."

"Not a major concern?" Cullen asked in disbelief. "We have either a lunatic who believes she's from another world, or a consummate liar. And judging by the way she lied about her magic, I'd say it was the latter."

"What little information she shared about her world coincides with what the Hero of Ferelden has told me."

"Then let us, for a moment, assume there is another world. Are we not going to consider it a threat? A possible invasion?"

"Invasion? By what? Sending one Dark elf every ten years? We must cross that bridge if we get there, Commander. There is no point in jumping to such conclusions. For now, let us focus on the immediate threat."

"The Breach is our priority, and Talia is still the only person who can close the rifts," Cassandra said.

“She’s good with the daggers. Taking out a Pride Demon is no small task.” Cullen sounded begrudgingly impressed.

“But what do we make of the orange glow?” Cassandra asked. “I could not explain where it came from.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance. "The only thing the orange glow tells us is that she used more magic to kill that demon. It’s more likely than the story circulating the barracks at least.”

“That it must have been Andraste?” Josephine frowned.

Cassandra flushed. “It does seem a bit foolish now. The men talked about the orange glow as if it were the fire that consumed our Andraste—,”

It was so ridiculous, Talia almost blew her cover by snorting.

“This is getting out of hand. No matter what people say about her, she is only a person, even if she was sent by the Maker.”

Leliana hummed. “We must be careful around her. I do not know who she is, but there is a lot she isn’t telling us.”

“Leliana?” Josephine probed.

“She was armed to the teeth when we found her.” Leliana said. “Two daggers on her belt, two throwing needles hidden in her hair, a well-made bow, a quiver of arrows, and two more daggers hidden in her boots. These weapons aren't used by common people, she could be an assassin."

Leliana was smarter than Talia gave her credit for. It would be wise to be cautious around her in the future.

"Then she could still be—" Cullen started, but Leliana shut down his argument firmly.

"No, Commander. Even if she were an assassin, we've already established that she wasn't at the Conclave when the Most Holy died. She doesn't even know anything about our world."

"We need to have someone watching her closely," Cassandra said. "She can only maintain a mask for so long—and we have people around us who can give us an update on her activities and actions."

"We must also decide on how we will be dealing with this entire 'Herald of Andraste' business," Josephine said.

"She will be the figurehead of the Inquisition of course," Leliana said matter-of-factly. "The people are already rallying in her name. The townspeople have already accepted her as their savior, and some have already asked for her 'blessing'. It would be remiss not to take advantage of her influence."

"And are we going to risk the Chantry's ire by exalting what they consider a 'heretic'?" Josephine asked.

"The Chantry will denounce us, of that there is no question. What we need is to extend our reach and our power. Talia will be the best to recruit agents to our cause. The people will want to meet the Herald of Andraste."

"Then I will be going to these places with her." Cassandra volunteered. "If we need someone to watch her, it may as well be me."

"It's settled then. We have to go public with the announcement of the Inquisition," Leliana said.

"Leave that to me." Josephine nodded and wrote it down on her vellum.

"I will keep training the new recruits. Hopefully if your excursion goes according to plan, we'll have more volunteers in our ranks," Cullen said.

"And I shall keep one ear to the ground. We need all the information we can get. I've already written a letter to the Hero of Ferelden to ask if she knows anything about Talia." Leliana's shoulders sagged slightly. "Hopefully she will reply to this one."

Cullen and Josephine both took their leave, and Talia slipped out the door after them, contemplating what she'd just heard. She peered into one of the open rooms in the Chantry and, seeing it was empty, stepped inside and pulled off the Ring of Khajiti. She grabbed one book from the shelf and exited the room, pretending to study it—her mind elsewhere.

Leliana was a smart one—she'd recognized Talia's weapons for what they were, and how could she not? Based on her observations, Talia could identify Leliana as a Bard. The sweet voice, charming looks and subtlety? And her last comment about keeping one ear on the ground solidified Talia's opinion that she was the Spymaster. She had a strange connection to this Hero of Ferelden, the only other dunmer they've seen. In truth, Talia was hoping the Hero would reply to Leliana's letter, if just to find out what she knew about her.

Cullen was suspicious of her—and with good reason. He seemed to be quite anti-mage, based on their very brief talk about them. Perhaps some bad history with them? Especially since he seemed so awed that there were no Abominations in Tamriel.

Josephine was harder to read, perhaps it was because she seemed to always answer so carefully. She seemed very diplomatic, but Talia thought she would be the most approachable.

As she descended the steps, she saw a figure waving to her from the corner of her eye. When she turned, she saw Varric by the fire, calling out to her.

"You all right there, Red-Eye?" Varric said as she approached, patting the space beside him so she could take a seat.

After sending yet another speech spell (she really, really needed to find an easier way), she took the seat he offered. “Hello Varric.”

"So, what have you been up to? Besides reading—" he craned his neck to look at the title before barking out a laugh.

"What?" she asked curiously. Talia couldn't read it, but the plain leather cover seemed innocent enough.

"What are you doing reading the Rose of Orlais?" Varric grinned at her before taking a swig of his drink. "It's probably one of the trashiest, smuttiest, romance novels I've ever read in my life—and I never managed to get past the second chapter."

"Oh," was all she could say. Well, she'd been hoping she grabbed a book about religion as she’d taken it from the Chantry. "I didn't realize it was that kind of book."

"What? Really? The protagonist even has the same name as you do.” Varric grabbed the book from her hands and flipped it to a random page. "'You must stop squirming, my lady, or I will have to punish you,' Garren's mouth was hovering over her heated flesh, and Talia barely managed to suppress a moan as he dragged his tongue over her exquisite center in a slow, deliberate stroke—'"

The content of the book startled a huff of laughter out of Talia, especially with Varric's voice acting.

"I'm not sure how you could read this and not think it's a smutty novel," Varric said, and he paused when Talia looked away, presumably in embarrassment. "Unless you..."

"No, I can't," Talia said quietly, schooling her expression into that of shame. "Where I come from, we have our own language and writing…I never really learned…"

"Hey it's all right! There's nothing wrong with that," Varric reassured her immediately. "If you want, I can give you a guide," he offered.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble," she said.

Varric waved away her concerns. He grabbed a piece of vellum from a pile on the ground, along with a quill and inkpot and set to writing. Varric jotted down each letter and told her what it was and how to pronounce it. Talia stared at it, simply remembering the order by which Varric wrote them down, and resolved to write down the translation beside them.

"Thanks, Varric." She smiled at him in gratitude—and she was surprised to find that she actually was grateful to him. The man didn't have to go out of his way to help someone learn how to read, but he did it anyway. And he didn't even ridicule her for it.

"Always eager to help out a fellow prisoner." He winked at her.

"A fellow prisoner?"

"You didn't know? Well, I'm surprised the Seeker's even allowing me this much freedom," he said. "She took me from Kirkwall—she was supposed to use me as a witness to what happened during the mage rebellion."

"Can you tell me more about it? The Mage Rebellion, I mean," Talia immediately asked. It seemed Varric was a font of information about current events.

"I wrote about it in my book, Tale of the Champion." Then, he seemed to remember that she didn't know how to read. "But I can spare some time to talk about it, if we get dinner at the tavern," he hastily added.

Talia was glad for Varric's storytelling prowess, it distracted her from the numerous eyes that were on her while they were at the tavern. Plus, he threw in additional information apart from the actual story—what Templars were, how Circles were managed, politics within the Chantry, and most importantly, background on Cassandra and Cullen. Mostly though, he spoke fondly of his friend Hawke, and their misadventures with him.

Getting to know Varric was interesting, not because of what he said, but more of the things that he didn't. Whenever she asked the usual questions, he'd deflect it with humor. She allowed it, but only because his subtle reactions were interesting. When Talia had asked about his family, he spoke about his horrible brother who'd trapped them in the Deep Roads for a lyrium idol. He was blasé about the entire story, but he kept one of his hands under the table, out of sight, while during more lighthearted tales, he gesticulated wildly using both his hands. Talia suspected it was a way to hide a habit or a nervous tick.

His expressions never changed from amused and generally jovial, but there was a subtle shift depending on who or what he was talking about. When it was Hawke, his eyes would crinkle and reflect a fondness for the man. If their conversations turned to Cassandra, there would be a momentary tightening in his eyes before it disappeared as if it were never there. They also spoke about the mage who blew up the Kirkwall Chantry. At that, his smile turned nostalgic, and then deprecating, before shifting back to normal.

Varric, as payment for his retelling of the Mage Rebellion, also asked a few questions about her and her life. Her answers were evasive, and he never pried. Talia thought he was familiar with people who didn't particularly like talking about their lives.

However, he did ask one question that caught her off-guard.

"How did you get that scar on your eye?"

Talia's hand traced the line over her right eye, as her mind flashed back to what happened—Ungolim's dead body, Lucien's furious face, his dagger glinting in the moonlight, her howls of pain amidst his unforgiving words. And when he realized she knew nothing—the hint of panic in his voice, the desperation in his kiss, the warmth of a healing spell…

"Training accident," she kept her voice light, but she knew her mask had slipped, and she was sure Varric had noticed. "I'm pretty clumsy with a blade. I didn't manage to block on time."

"Someone must've healed you if you can still see out of that eye," Varric mused. "Why keep the scar?"

"A reminder," Talia echoed the words she'd told Lucien. Of what you're capable of. The last part went unsaid, but he had understood it anyway.

When she said no more, Varric changed their conversation back to a lighter topic. "Speaking of scars, there was this one time Hawke…"

When she'd returned to her cottage, her mind was pounding with all the information she gathered for the day. It didn't help that she had allowed herself to think about her Speaker. She couldn't break away from the memories, and it left her distracted for the rest of her conversation with Varric. It frustrated her that even after everything he still retained his power over her, that he could still affect her from the grave.

Accepting that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep for the night, she caged her mind against the onslaught of memories and looked for something to distract her. She grabbed the research book she'd brought with her and studied the guide Varric had given her, resolving to find a way to overcome the language barrier.

All the while, Lucien lurked at the back of her mind, haunting her every move.

Chapter Text

Talia straightened up from her desk and eyed her creation critically. She was not sure how effective the makeshift enchanting table would be, but it was the best she could do with what limited resources she had. They didn't have moonstone, but she'd managed to charm Harritt, the blacksmith, into giving her a slate of pure silver. He had gaped at her when she'd first mentioned it, thinking she was asking for one of those rare minerals they had in this land called silverite. He had a few silver ores, and with a few kind words, she had him forming the slate. Easy as a tavern wench he'd said, and blushed when he realized to whom he was speaking.

She'd spent at least half a day carving runes onto its surface, adding a few experimental ones here and there, since it was probably the first and last enchantment she'd be able to do in this world. Talia decided to focus the speech spell on two languages, Common to King's Tongue, instead of multiple. Ignoring the fact that her enchantment was experimental, her silver slate was also a lot weaker than a normal enchanting altar, and the only soul gem she had was filled with a Greater Soul.

The other part of the enchantment was trickier—she needed blood from someone well-versed in the language. Although it worked rather well without any sort of knowledge about the other language, she didn't want to risk her speech translated to a language other than King's Tongue.

The opportunity came in the form of the bard who joined to play at the tavern. Talia was studying herbs with Adan when she came in for a healing salve. She had a nasty cut on her arm—she’d spun a rather dramatic tale on how she got it—and Talia insisted on cleaning it and assisting in healing her. Maryden, as Talia found she was called, promised to sing praises about the Herald who saved her life, despite Talia's protests that it was just a small gash, and the dunmer managed to tuck away the rag used to clean her wound.

Talia pricked her finger using one of her daedric daggers and squeezed a drop of her blood in the center rune, mixing it with the bard's blood. Placing the amulet in the middle of the slate, Talia positioned her hands at the edges, touching the daedric runes at both sides. She made sure her door was locked and windows covered before starting; if anyone saw her, they’d likely assume she was a blood mage.

Magic of any form was never inherently evil; everything in life was about intent. However, Talia thought the world's views on blood magic may be similar to how Necromancy was seen in Cyrodiil. Then again, she thought darkly, if it were up to the Chantry, all mages would be exterminated, blood magic or no.

Focusing on the task at hand, she let her magicka flow from her fingertips onto the slate. While enchantments usually only required minimal magicka, she theorized it would make up for the lack of proper enchanting apparatus. She kept the stream of magic steady as she slowly drew out the energy from the soul gem.

When she was done, she collapsed on her dresser chair, bone tired. She slipped on the amulet and grabbed one of the books Cassandra brought her and grinned in triumph when she read, 'The Chant of Light, Unabridged'. At least it worked on written material, although she doubted she'd be able to write if she tried; she wasn't sure if any spell would be able to do that. Wanting to test it, she pushed herself out of her seat and left to look for Varric.

Haven, as she discovered the village was called, had been busy for the past two days following the announcement of the Inquisition. Banners were strung up and notices were posted around the area. Talia had suggested looking for a more fortified area to be the Inquisition's base of operations, and they had started scouting possible locations. Cullen had started training the new recruits mercilessly, and Cassandra managed materials requisition with the Quartermaster, Threnn.

While she wasn't researching a means to enchant her amulet, Talia spent her time chatting with Varric or studying herbs with Adan. She figured arming herself with knowledge of healing plants and different types of poisons would help her in the long run. Being the 'Herald of Andraste' would no doubt encourage more than a few assassination attempts.

Varric wasn't at his usual spot by the fire; the only other place he'd likely be in was the tavern. She walked up the steps to the Chantry and turned right to the pathway leading to the apothecary and the tavern. She hadn't had the chance to speak with Solas yet, so when she spotted him near the herbalist's hut, she smiled and greeted him.

"Hello, Solas."

"Greetings, Herald." He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

"It occurs to me that I haven't really thanked you yet for saving my life," Talia said. "So, thank you. I appreciate it."

Solas nodded. "You are most welcome. Truly, that mark on your hand is one of the rarest pieces of magic I have ever come across."

"Can you tell me more about it?"

"The mark?"

"Yes…" Talia said slowly. "And the Fade?"

Solas' eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "Why do you wish to know more about it?"

"Well, to be honest, I find it all very fascinating." She looked around. "But don't tell that to Cullen or Cassandra, I don't think they'd approve."

"Does their opinion matter greatly to you?"

Talia sighed. "I obviously don't belong here. The only reason they're keeping me around is because of this mark." She glanced at her palm. "I do not wish to be…ostracized any more than I am."

Solas eyes softened. "There is no shame in wishing to expand your knowledge. But I do understand your need for discretion." He gestured to the ground in front of him, and Talia sat down beside him. "What is it that you wish to know about the Fade?"

Talia thought about how much she should reveal to Solas. After all, they believed she remembered next to nothing about her brief foray into the Fade. She decided to ask the most basic questions first.

"I know this may sound like a ridiculous question…but what is the Fade?"

"There are no stupid questions, Herald." He reassured her. "The Fade is a metaphysical realm tied to Thedas. It is commonly thought of as the world of spirits and demons. When a person dies, their spirit leaves their body and enters the Fade. However, that is not the only way to enter it. Everybody visits the Fade.”

Talia furrowed her brows. "Everybody visits the Fade? So why did it cause a ruckus when I stepped out of it?"

"Everybody visits the Fade when they dream," he elaborated. "And mages tap into it when using magic. The mortal world and the Fade are separated by what we call the Veil. Occasionally, whenever the Veil is thin, demons are able to cross over into the mortal world."

"Is that what happened at the Conclave?"

"Yes and no." He pursed his lips. "There was an explosion. We still do not know what caused it, but it was strong enough to create massive and numerous tears in the Veil." He looked up at the sky, where the Breach loomed above them.

"What causes these tears? What makes the Veil thin?"

Solas looked down. "Sometimes, the Veil tends to be weaker in places that have experienced extensive death or massive amounts of magic. Spirits are attracted to death, and they press against the Veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds."

"A lot of people died at the Conclave," Talia mused. "And from what we saw at the Temple, the Divine was used in some kind of sacrificial ritual…does blood magic affect the Veil as well?"

Solas looked at her approvingly. "Indeed it does. A blood mage makes a pact with demons and allows the Veil to be torn, granting these demons passage into the mortal world."

"Is it likely that a blood mage was the one who caused all of this?" As soon as she asked it, Talia already knew the answer. Although magic did not run in the same way as in Nirn, it was highly unlikely that one person could wield magic as powerful as that.

"Perhaps, we cannot say for sure," Solas allowed. "But that amount of magic would not have been possible. Even if a group of mages performed a ritual and emptied their mana; even if they had copious amounts of lyrium at hand, all of those combined would not be able to create a tear as large as the Breach, let alone the other fade rifts that have appeared."

Talia tapped a finger on her cheek. "A conduit then? You channel energy through your staff, right? Could not the same be done with some other magical artifact, one that amplifies magic a hundredfold?"

Solas merely blinked at her before giving her a small smile. "You surprise me. That is my belief as well. It is, after all, the only logical conclusion we can come to."

“Indeed, I find that I occasionally have good ideas.” Talia gave him a smile while mentally cursing her slip-up. Magic in this world was fascinating, and Solas was someone who was knowledgeable enough to satisfy her curiosity. Perhaps in the future, he would be able to assist her in researching a way to travel back to Tamriel.

"Do not be so hard on yourself," he chided lightly. "You have shown a passion for knowledge I do not see in many people."

“I suppose I should, given I am the so-called ‘Herald of Andraste’ now.” Talia changed the subject. "It does seem like a very weighty title for one person to hold."

"The chosen of Andraste, the blessed hero who will save as all. Yes, it is quite heavy." He smiled.

"Am I riding in on a shining steed?" She grinned sardonically.

"I would have suggested a griffon, but sadly, they're extinct," he added lightly. "Joke as you will, posturing is necessary. The people of Haven lost all hope until you arrived. Whether or not your mark is truly divine, they desperately cling to this image they have of you, and you will need to live up to that expectation."

It was interesting how Solas viewed the villagers. And his words, 'Posturing is necessary'. Did he see more that he let on? "So, you don't think I was sent by the Maker?"

"I hope I do not offend," he said diplomatically. "But I am not Andrastrian."

"Do elves have their own gods?" she asked curiously.

Solas raised an eyebrow. “Surely you must have heard about the gods from your Elvhen parent?”

Talia fought the urge to narrow her eyes at him. He was fishing for information, and he was making it obvious that he didn’t believe Leliana’s half-ling story.

She shrugged. “If Father knew anything about the Elvhen gods, he didn’t tell me.”

Solas gave her a look of skepticism but answered her. "It is true that the Elvhen have our own gods that are worshipped. Although, much of Elvhen culture has been lost after the fall of Arlathan, and I've made it my mission to gather whatever information I can about that lost time."

"If next to nothing remains of that time, how do you 'gather information' so to speak?"

He gave her a mysterious smile. "I have the unique ability to visit the Fade in areas where the Veil is thin. Spirits converge in ancient structures and battlefields, recreating what has occurred in those days."

Talia's eyes widened. Such an ability was…"Extraordinary," she breathed.

"Thank you." There was a brief look of surprise before he smiled. "Not many see it as such. To answer your question however, no, I do not believe in the gods that the Elves worship as well."

Talia waved away his answer and focused on his strange power. "So how does your ability work? You sleep in ancient ruins and you experience what happened in the past?"

"To put it simply, yes. But it is somewhat a more encompassing experience. I dreamed at Ostagar, and the spirits there recreated the Battle at Bloomingtide. I saw the Hero of Ferelden and King Alistair as newly-minted Grey Wardens. They lit the beacon, and I felt their hope crumble and turn to fury as they were betrayed. But on the other side, I saw Teyrn Loghain unwilling to sacrifice any more of his people in a losing battle against darkspawn, and ordered the retreat."

Talia had no idea what he was talking about, but she simply nodded. Ostagar? Darkspawn? Grey Wardens? She made a mental note to do more research about the subject after their conversation. But if Solas could simply visit the Fade to learn centuries-old knowledge, would he also be able to do it on more recent happenings?

"Is it more difficult to recreate ancient events rather than more recent ones?" she asked innocuously.

"At times, but more recent events are easier for spirits to replicate," he confirmed.

"Then, if you slept at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, we could find out what truly happened to the Divine." It would have been missed by an untrained eye, but Talia was looking for it, and she prevented herself from scowling as Solas' shoulders stiffened minutely.

"Perhaps. However, the Fade in the area is unstable, we may risk opening the Breach should I try something as invasive," he spoke smoothly, but Talia could tell he was lying.

The question was why?

"But you could try?" she implored, projecting enthusiasm in her voice. "Then we can figure out who's behind this whole mess, and what artifact he used to do it. Such a powerful thing needs to be recovered."

"Even if I did, I doubt they would simply accept the word of an elven apostate," he countered.

"I would believe you," she insisted. "And I would convince them you were telling the truth."

Solas looked increasingly uncomfortable, but to his credit, he hid it very well. The elf opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when one of Leliana's agents approached and saluted.

"Your Worship, Sister Nightingale has requested your presence in the War Council." He bowed respectfully. A brief glance at Solas told her that the elf was relieved to have been interrupted, and Talia dropped the subject.

"Thank you for your time, Solas." She smiled at elf as she stood up. "I hope we can continue our lectures another date?"

Solas inclined his head. "Of course, Herald. If you have questions, you are free to ask them."

Talia followed the scout to the war room. When she arrived, the other four were already there, and they looked up from the map they were studying to greet her.

"Herald." Leliana nodded her head. "Glad you could join us."

"Did you need something from me?"

"We wished to discuss our action plan for the coming weeks.”

"As we mentioned, your mark will be the key to closing the Breach. We would need to power your mark, overcharge it so to speak," Cassandra began.

"Which is why we must approach the rebel mages for help," Leliana interrupted.

"And I still disagree," Cullen said. As usual, he rested his hand on his sword whenever she was in the vicinity. He did not trust her, and that she understood.

From what Varric had told her, Cullen used to be a part of the Templars, the Order that was considered wardens of the mages. After what happened to Kirkwall—a mage blowing up the Chantry, the First Enchanter resorting to blood magic and the head of the Templars going mad, Talia understood his paranoia and general dislike of magic.

"Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it enough so that the Herald can use her mark to close it,” he continued.

"Pure speculation," Leliana sniffed.

"Unfortunately," Josephine intervened before the argument could escalate. "Neither side will deign to speak to us. We are considered heretics by the Chantry and they have denounced us publicly."

Talia furrowed her brow. “I thought the mages rebelled against the Chantry?" She looked to Leliana for confirmation, and when the red head nodded, she continued, "Why would they care about what the Chantry believes?"

"I do not think it matters to them what the Chantry is saying, but we've done nothing to earn their trust yet. And I believe they've grown wary of figures of authority after the abuse they've experienced at the hands of templars." Leliana explained, and Cullen looked incredibly offended at the accusation. Before he could say anything, she quickly added, "I am not saying that all templars are abusive, some of them are seen as saviors. But these mages rebelled for a reason."

"Then what can we do to earn their trust?" Talia asked.

Cullen threw his hands up in exasperation. "Will you not even consider speaking with the Templars?" he asked with chagrin.

Talia looked at him in bemusement, but she wanted to smirk at Cullen. "I didn't know the decision relied on me?"

"Your opinion is valuable, as most already see you as the symbol of the Inquisition," Leliana said smoothly.

Talia inclined her head. “Perhaps we can speak with both? Shouldn’t we hold a public announcement of the Inquisition? Appeal to the leaders of this country?"

Josephine sighed. "We may be able to get an audience with the King of Ferelden at their next Landsmeet, however, I am unsure whether it will truly help our cause or not. As for Orlais," she grimaced. "The country is in civil war as of the moment. Empress Celene's cousin, the Grand Duke Gaspard, has been trying to usurp her from her throne for quite some time. It is highly unlikely that we will get a chance to appeal our case to them. We will simply be seen as another foreign power, trying to wrestle control away from either of them."

"Shouldn't his usurping be considered treason?" This Grand Duke seemed to be the ambitious and cunning sort, no doubt trying to gain control through underhanded means. He was not stupid enough to do anything that would paint him in a negative light with the masses.

"It is all a part of the Grand Game, and the Grand Duke Gaspard plays his part well. A discussion for another time," Leliana said in a tone that brooked no argument.

"So we may get an audience with Ferelden's King," Talia nodded. "That's good right? We are occupying a part of his lands, after all."

"But we must also address the Chantry's ire against us," Josephine said. "Perhaps if we present you to them, they would be more amenable to our cause."

"Cassandra and I can pool whatever influence we have left to call for a meeting with the remaining Chantry leaders at Val Royeaux. Additionally, a cleric named Mother Giselle has asked to speak with you at the Crossroads in the Hinterlands. She is helping the refugees and those injured from the Mage-Templar War. If we gain her aid, negotiations may go a little more smoothly."

Talia agreed hesitantly. She had no desire to fight, nowadays, she’d been more focused on her research and magic. She was by no means, a novice at knives and daggers, but magic had always been her main weapon—a weapon, she unfortunately couldn’t use in this world.

"I will be accompanying you," Cassandra reassured her. "As will Solas and Varric."

"Bring a few of our more seasoned soldiers," Cullen suggested. "They will be able to protect you better, and give them a chance to stretch their legs."

"Harding has already led a scouting party into the Hinterlands to locate any places of interest or possible camp sites." Leliana said.

Talia nodded. She would likely be staying in the Hinterlands for a while, if she would be recruiting and closing Fade rifts. "Once I've spoken to this…Mother Giselle, I'll ask Harding to send you a message with the cleric's names, so you can start speaking with them."

"We'll have everything ready for you when you return from the Hinterlands," Josephine promised.

"Thank you, Josephine," Talia said. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes," Cassandra immediately spoke up. "We wished to discuss more about what happened at the Conclave."

"What about it?"

"When we were in the Temple, you mentioned the name of the girl we saw. Do you…remember anything else? Anything that might point us to who or what caused this?"

Talia furrowed her brows. "I…remember being so disoriented. I had no idea where I was. Everything was green, and I only wanted to leave that place. There were things chasing me, and I was trying to get away." She remembered vividly, the corpses of her friends, her family, rushing towards them. "I was going up a flight of stairs, and there was this woman…" Talia shook her head, and said mournfully. "It's all a blur to me."

"And the elven girl? Lavellan, I believe you called her?" Cassandra probed.

Talia made a show of being deep in thought, and took the time out to consider what she was going to say next. She remembered telling them only about a woman in the Fade, and Talia thought it best to stick with that story. "I recognized her almost immediately when I saw her." She fidgeted. "I feel like I know her from somewhere…but I've never met her in my entire life. I'm sorry," she said, lacing her tone with uncertainty.

"It's all right. We understand that it has been a rather…trying experience for you," Josephine smiled at her.

Trying was most definitely not the word she'd use for what happened to her. Crazy, perhaps, Sheogorath-esque, more likely.

“It’s...been an interesting couple of days.” Talia said hesitantly. “Everything is just so different.”

“It must be difficult, I can’t imagine what you’re going through.” Josephine sympathized. “Is everything truly so different from your world?”

Talia contemplated the question for a moment before answering. “It’s similar in many ways. You have the similar food, crops, minerals, plants…but it’s jarring, not seeing any of the other races I’m familiar with.” She shrugged and gave a small smile. “Can’t say I also have any experience with unknown, probably forbidden magic, attaching itself to my hand.”

“So, what do you have experience with?” Leliana asked casually.

The dunmer in question raised an eyebrow. She knew Leliana was fishing for more information about her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be giving the Spymaster a difficult time. “That’s a rather broad question. Maybe something more specific?”

“You said you were a mercenary.” Cullen prompted.

“A member of the Fighter’s Guild, yes. And in an unfortunate turn of events, had to take on the position of Guildmaster.”

“You’re the leader of this mercenary band?”

Talia let out a small laugh. “Don’t sound so surprised, or I’ll be offended.”

While Cullen was busy stammering out an apology, Talia continued. “We’re not a mercenary band. We’re a guild; the best one in Cyrodiil. I’m only the leader in name, because my second, Modryn Oreyn had been bypassed for the position. Everyone knows he does all the work.”

“So why not pass on the title to him?” he asked curiously.

“I can’t,” Talia shrugged. “Not without risking the previous Guildmaster’s ire. So I’ll have to wait for her to die before I can give him the title.” Then she remembered where she was, and added more bitterly, “If I ever get back, that is.”

There was an uncomfortable silence following her words.

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” Cullen piped up, surprising Talia. “We may not always see eye-to-eye, but I hope you know that I don’t wish to make your stay here more difficult than it already is. And we are grateful that you’ve agreed to help out the Inquisition.”

Cassandra picked up on the surprise on the dunmer’s face. “What the Commander says is true. We appreciate you agreeing to this. I know this is not the ideal situation for you, or any of us.”

“Once we gather more information, and more resources, we can have some people look into getting you back to your world.” Leliana added.

“I…” Talia blinked. “Thank you. That would be great.” She found herself pleasantly surprised by their words. The sincerity with which they spoke astonished her. What surprised her more, was the sliver of guilt she felt when she remembered she was still keeping a lot of information from all of them.

It would be the height of idiocy, she thought, if she told them everything she knew.

But, looking at their resolute expressions and hesitant smiles, she couldn’t help but feel like a bit regretful for deceiving them.

Chapter Text

They had left Haven a few days ago, and the dunmer was pleased to find that not all of Ferelden was a desolate snowbank. The temperature slowly rose as they journeyed away from the Frostback mountains and Talia took the time to study the map she was given. They had given her a beautiful grey horse for their journey, and she felt a pang of sadness as she thought of Shadowmere, once Lucien's loyal steed, passed on to her.

As they rode on, Talia observed the lush greenery surrounding them, and picked whatever herbs and flowers she could to test later. She still found it strange that some things existed in both Nirn and this world, but some didn't. Horses were still the usual mounts, and deer, cows, chicken and rabbits were prepared and eaten as food. But there were no goblins, imps, or even the usual wisp; at least none that she'd seen yet. Certain herbs and flowers could be found in both worlds as well. Roses and sunflowers were there, and to her great surprise, nightshade.

Varric made it no secret that Talia's interest in flowers and herbs amused him greatly.

"You're like the stereotypical elf, Glowy. Lovers of everything green and natural. Next thing we know, you'll be hugging trees and rolling around in grass." He grinned as she stopped to pick a white flower that caught her eye.

"Glowy?" she asked in bemusement. "I thought I was Red-Eye?"

"Eh." He waved her away. "It's a work in progress. I'll find something that sticks."

She shook her head and observed the flower in her hand. It wasn't one that she recognized from Adan's notes. "What is it?" She turned to Solas.

"It is called Andraste's Grace," Cassandra answered from behind her.

Talia craned her neck to look at the Seeker. "I didn't think you were particularly interested in herbalism."

"This particular flower does not have any properties useful in potion-making." Solas peered at it from where he was perched on his horse. "It is purely ornamental."

"Oh shit, Seeker." Varric hid a grin behind his hand. "Didn't peg you for a flowers type of girl. I would have given you some at Kirkwall if it would've made you go easier on me."

Cassandra flushed. "It is—I am not—I simply know it because it is Leliana's favorite flower."

It was the first time Talia saw Cassandra look so flustered. A hopeless romantic, then?

"So what's your favorite flower then?" Varric grinned.

Cassandra scowled at him, still red, but reigning in her embarrassment. "I refuse to continue such a ridiculous line of conversation." she said and urged her horse to gallop ahead of them.

Varric snickered. "I'm willing to bet that it's her favorite flower,"

Talia looked at the flower in her hand. Leliana's favorite flower hm? She tucked it safely in her pack as they moved on.

They were met by Scout Harding at the camp. Talia was glad for the woman's professionalism, as she simply saluted and gave her a rundown of what was happening and didn't gawk at her as her other comrades did. Mother Giselle was at the Crossroads, aiding refugees caught up in the Mage-Templar War. Talia could hear the clash of blades and the sound of explosions from the camp.

Normally, she would have kept away from the fighting, but she realized it would be impossible to do at that point.

It was pandemonium. As they reached the bottom of the hill, Talia could see people in full plate armor engaging those in robes. No matter where she looked, there were flashes of spells and glints of swords and shields.

When they joined the fray, templars and mages alike were confused as to which side they were on, after all, they had both a Seeker and a Mage in the party. Cassandra tried to shout out that they weren't apostates, and Solas attempted to parlay by saying that they weren't templars, but neither side listened. Talia and Varric solved the problem by killing them indiscriminately.

Killing without magic was messy work, Talia grimaced as she tried to wipe the blood off her. Her use of daggers made it almost impossible for her not to be splattered with gore.

The Crossroads was littered with refugees who stared at them unabashedly as they passed.

"Isn't that—?"

"The Warden Commander! She's come to help us!"

"You idiot! That's the Herald of Andraste!"

"Say, if this Revered Mother actually wanted to help us, why didn't she just go to Haven?" Varric muttered.

"Perhaps she cannot leave until the refugees are more stable," Cassandra suggested as she looked around.

"Or," Solas said quietly. "She wished to bring the Inquisition to her as a sign of power."

Talia mulled over Solas' words, and silently agreed. From what she'd seen of the Chantry types, they never did seem to do anything selflessly. Then again, she'd only ever interacted with Roderick.

As they approached Mother Giselle, Varric paused in his steps, making Talia look at him in question.

"If it's all the same to you, Your Worshipfulness, I'd rather not have anything to do with these Chantry people, no offense to you of course, Seeker," Varric commented flippantly and Cassandra scowled at him. "I'll go talk to the refugees and see what help they need around here."

"I believe it best to go and assist with healing the wounded," Solas announced, and at Talia's nod, he too walked away.

"Is there something about Mother Giselle that scares them?" Cassandra scoffed as they continued walking.

"I think it's their general aversion to the Chantry," Talia said. If she didn't know they needed the priestess' help, she would rather not be there either. "I know Solas isn't Andrastian, and he is an apostate. And maybe Varric has grown to dislike them."

"Do not mince words, Herald," Cassandra bit out. "I know it is because of my interrogation."

Talia simply shrugged. "I honestly don't know, Cassandra. But you can't think they would blindly trust a Chantry cleric after all that's happened." Mother Giselle spotted them and gave them a nod. She spoke to the mage tending to the injured soldier and rose to approach them.

Cassandra's lip curled. "Chancellor Roderick is not the representation of the entire Chantry."

"The remaining ones did denounce the Inquisition. But I agree, I cannot judge anyone, even a Chantry cleric, based on the actions of others," she said diplomatically, and ensured her expression was calm and approachable as the Revered Mother approached.

"The Herald of Andraste, I presume?" Giselle had the look of kindly old woman with her warm eyes and soft cadence. Appearances could be deceiving, however, and Talia knew this best.

"That is what some call me, but I would not presume to be blessed by our Lady. I am a child of the Maker, same as anyone." The dunmer inclined her head, wondering if she overdid it. Based on Cassandra's frown, she did.

If Mother Giselle noticed, she didn't let it show. "I can understand why the Maker has chosen you to do his bidding," she said. "And you are Seeker Pentaghast?"

"It is good to meet you, Mother Giselle," Cassandra nodded.

Mother Giselle gestured to the side. "Walk with me?" As the two acquiesced, they strolled through the crossroads as the cleric spoke of the situations with the refugees. They had no food, no supplies, no medicine. If the fighting didn't let up soon, the Hinterlands would be nothing but broken bodies strewn across the countryside.

"Tell me then, Herald of Andraste," Mother Giselle said after some time. "Why are you here? What is your purpose?"

Talia blinked at her and one look at Cassandra told her she was just as confused. "Forgive me, Mother. But I believe you asked for me?"

"Indeed I did," she nodded. "But is that the only reason you are here?"

Talia heard the undertones in the Mother's voice. Why did the Maker bring you here? What is your higher purpose? She suppressed the urge to sneer at her and managed to compose a ridiculously idealistic speech.

"Through luck or through divine intervention, I had become the sole survivor of a horrible incident. I cannot say yet what the Maker's purpose was for letting me live, but I can tell you what I intend to do.” She turned to Mother Giselle and let her see the resolve in her eyes.

"I intend to close the Breach, end the madness that has been taking this world. I wish to bring to justice the monster who killed the Divine and hundreds of innocents. I want to restore peace and order to the world—to end the senseless fighting, and in turn, spare the lives of the innocents who have been affected by this war."

Mother Giselle looked at her for a moment before bowing her head. "I do not know if you have truly been touched by the Maker, but you inspire a great deal of hope, Herald. And hope is what these people need right now," she said.

Talia avoided Cassandra's eye. Let them think she was slightly embarrassed at her impassioned speech. Blushing on command was not something she'd yet mastered, so she merely ducked her head in fake-mortification.

"I heard about the Chantry's denouncement," the cleric finally said. "And I am familiar with those behind it."

They left Mother Giselle after gaining the list of the cleric's names and asking a scout to pass it on to Harding. Talia had also promised that the Inquisition would help the refugees in any way they could. After all, what better way to paint the Inquisition in good light than aiding war victims? Plus, if they could find a way to end the conflict between mages and templars in the Hinterlands, Talia was sure more than a few nobles would be thankful.

The rest of their day was devoted to hunting ram for those refugees and looking for supply caches. Solas had suggested heading to Redcliffe Village, to look for healers to help those in the Crossroads, but Varric pointed out that they might die on their way if the fighting between mages and templars wasn't stopped first.

When night fell, they set up camp at one of the locations marked on the map. Camping was not something she'd done in a long time—and Solas gave her an amused look when she unsuccessfully pitched her tent. Varric took pity on her and helped her with it, but not before grinning and promising that her lack of camping skills wouldn't be included in his book.

Talia let Cassandra set up watch schedules, and was not particularly surprised when they were partnered for the first one. She settled herself in front of the fire, opened up one of the books she brought with her and waited until Cassandra approached her to talk.

After Solas had mentioned the darkspawn, Grey Wardens and the Blight, Talia had started reading through the books Leliana and the others had given her. If the stories were to be believed, then her fellow dunmer had managed to end the Fereldan Civil War, unite the elves, dwarves and humans under one banner, defeat an army of darkspawn and killed the dragon Archdemon who commanded the horde. The books never mentioned her being from another world, and as it was written by a Chantry sister, Talia was quite sure they would have included it if they knew.

She needed more information about the Hero of Ferelden—where did she come from? What were the circumstances surrounding her arrival in Thedas? Did she also enter a portal to Oblivion? How did she get roped into becoming a Grey Warden? Leliana would be a good choice to ask, as she was one of the Hero's companions during that time. But her asking would open her to more probing from the bard's part, something Talia wasn't sure she was ready for.

When it seemed Cassandra had run out of things to arrange around the camp, she sighed loudly and plopped down across her.

"Did you need anything, Cassandra?" Talia asked when the woman simply stared at her and offered no words.

"I—I simply wish to tell you that what you told to Mother Giselle was…inspired."

Surprised, Talia put down the book she was reading.

"Oh, well, thank you?"

"Everything you have said—it is every goal I wish the Inquisition could achieve," Cassandra admitted. "I am glad to know that our objectives…coincide. Or was that speech simply for Mother Giselle's benefit?"

From the brief time they’ve spent together, Talia found Cassandra to be a very straightforward person, and now was no exception.

"Partly," Talia said. "I wanted Mother Giselle to know that the Inquisition isn't a joke—and that we were truly there to help and that it was not a grab of power from my part. But I cannot deny that I do want close the Breach and find the one behind all of this." If only to gain a better understanding of what magic he used and how it could have been connected to her appearance in Thedas. The atrocity committed was real, but she felt removed from the situation. It was not her world, it was not her fight; her only wish was to leave the wretched place and find a way back to Nirn.

"I am glad then." She paused. "It occurs to me that I have yet to apologize for how I treated you back at Haven.” Cassandra fidgeted, and Talia thought the woman wasn't used to apologizing to anyone. "You were a stranger caught up in an event that must have been incredibly confusing to you, and in my anger, I pinned the blame unto you. When in fact, the Maker sent you to us at our darkest hour and given us hope."

Talia managed a small smile instead of the grimace threatening to form on her face.

"If you would allow me," the woman continued. "I would wish to get to know you better." Cassandra gave her a tentative smile, and it was strange sight on the normally stoic woman's face. "I—it has simply occurred to me that we have asked a great deal from you, and yet we barely know anything about you."

"All right." Talia stretched and cast a subtle muffling charm at both of them. Cassandra narrowed her eyes, and realized she'd noticed the spell. “A simple muffling charm, nothing more."

"This is the first spell you've cast since our meeting with Cullen," Cassandra said. Talia nodded, it only confirmed what she already knew: that the warrior was watching her. "How is it that you have stopped casting the translation spell you often use?"

Well, they were bound to notice anyway. "I'm sure Leliana has been keeping tabs on my every move." And when Cassandra's expression shifted to slightly guilty, Talia smiled. "I made an amulet of speech. I'm not sure I can explain the entire process with terms people from this world would understand," she said apologetically, but she most definitely did not want to explain the blood and magic involved in doing it. "But I carved runes on it, they're in another language so you can't really understand it." She slipped the amulet off and showed it to the Seeker.

"I thought you weren't much of a mage?" Cassandra said as Talia put it back on.

"Enchanting is a whole different branch of study, you don't truly use any of your own magicka to enchant objects. If you know your runes, and have the right tools, you can enchant most anything." The explanation was a simple lie; Talia wasn't sure Thedas was ready for the idea of Soul Gems, if they were squeamish about using blood. If it were Solas, Talia knew he would pry, but Cassandra simply nodded, not understanding, but seemingly pleased that she was being open about it.

"What other spells can you cast?" she asked.

Talia tapped a finger on her lips as she thought of what to say. “Some novice level spells. Dunmer have an affinity to fire, so basic flames spells. And I also know a magelight spell.”

“You didn’t wish to study more magic?”

 “My parents cared more about our knowledge of tradition and rituals than anything else,” she said truthfully.

Another awkward silence.

“May I ask…more?” Cassandra didn’t seem to know how to hold a conversation either, and Talia couldn’t help but feel a bit amused.

"Very well. What was it you wished to know about me?" she prompted.

The Seeker shifted uncomfortably; it seemed as if the woman was unused to social niceties. "I—well, I am not sure. Where are you from?"

"I was born in the country called Morrowind in the city of Mournhold, where dunmer, Dark Elves like me, are native to." she paused, unsure what else to say. "I was born on the 20th of Sun's Height, on the 361st year of the Third Era. I was the third child of Lord Varis and Lady Helsi of the Great House Indoril."

Cassandra stopped her. "Sun's Height…is that a month? And how you say your years, it is quite different."

"I did notice that from some of the books I've read," she said, recalling 9:30 Dragon, which oddly sounded like hours, not years.

"Standard ages started with the establishment of the Chantry. Each age is composed of one hundred years, and whoever is Divine chooses the name of the next age during the 99th year," Cassandra explained.

"So, why is this one called Dragon?"

"The appearance of a High Dragon documented just before the Battle of River Dane. It was the legendary battle that led to the freedom of Ferelden from Orlesian rule."

"Interesting," Talia muttered. She really did need to get on with studying those books. "Historically, it still remains unclear when an era starts and ends. In recent times, however, they started to equate the end of an era with the end of a dynasty. The second era was ended when Tiber Septim formed the Empire of Tamriel, that's the name of our continent, and the third era ended when—when the last of his descendants died." Hopefully, Cassandra didn't notice the hitch in her voice. Martin's death was still fresh in her mind.

"I see. You also mentioned a Great House?" Cassandra asked. "Is that a kind of royalty?"

"Nobility, perhaps," Talia allowed, although considering that her House had gone to an all-time low after majority of them committed suicide instead of surrendering to the Empire, they could hardly be called as such. "Great House Indoril rules over certain areas in mainland Morrowind. Our House is deeply intertwined with local religion. Most if not all of the members of the temple authority are from House Indoril."

"What is your religion like then? I know you have read some if not the entire Chant of Light, and you already have a basic understanding of how the Chantry functions."

Talia thought Cassandra sounded accusing, of what, she had no idea. "There are many different religions in Tamriel, though dunmer generally worship the Tribunal. The triumvirate is composed of Lady Almalexia, Mother of Mercy and Champion of the poor; Lord Sotha Sil, Father of Magic and Knowledge; and Lord Vivec, Protector of the Land and Patron of Artists. As a child of House Indoril, I was expected to take up a position either as a Curate, a priestess of the Tribunal, or as an Ordinator, their law enforcers."

"You were dedicated to your faith, I suppose?"

Talia almost snorted. “Hardly.” She remembered her parents' disappointment, the withering looks of her fellow acolytes, her siblings’ exasperation… "My family is entirely dedicated to the Tribunal, but I never truly understood it. I pretended for a time," she admitted. “that there was no greater joy to me than serving the Tribunal. But pretending had never been my strong suit.”

"May I ask why?" Cassandra sounded genuinely interested.

"It was hard to explain then, but I did not believe they were true gods. Yes, they protected Morrowind, but they simply came across immortality and were not, truly divine." She answered carefully, making sure not to mention her general distaste for religion. She'd eventually realized how it served to chain the minds of the masses, and how much she disliked blind following.

After the Oblivion Crisis, Talia had heard that the Tribunal had fallen, and reverted back to Daedra worship. Almalexia had assassinated Sotha Sil, and the Nerevarine had needed to kill her. Most of the members of House Indoril blindly followed Almalexia during her mad scheme. She heard that the Great House was in ruins, but she'd never bothered to send a message to them to check.

"We were deeply rooted in tradition. Social hierarchies and various rituals were simply things that couldn't be changed.” Talia grimaced at the thought of her homeland, her House’s practice and defense of slavery. “Suffice to say, the way other races are treated across Morrowind was abhorrent.”

At Cassandra’s intrigued expression, she launched into a discussion about the different races in Tamriel. When she'd explained the existence of Khajit and Argonians, the Seeker wouldn't believe her.

"You must think me very gullible," she said flatly.

"I am not joking, nor do I think you are a fool," Talia said. "I suppose it is difficult to believe when your world only has four races."

“Hmph, I still don’t believe you.” Cassandra said, though she sounded less sure.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” she suddenly remembered. “What race are Varric and Harding?”

"Dwarves," Cassandra said matter-of-factly. When Talia merely stared at her, she elaborated, “Most of their race live underground, in places like Orzammar. Their architecture and technology surpass that of humans or elves."

"But…Varric doesn't have any pointy ears," she argued.

Cassandra lifted an eyebrow. "Your point?"

"Well, dwarves are mer, elves! They were the most advanced in architecture, technology, crafting, forging, and most of all magic."

Their conversation drew an amused look from Cassandra. "I assure you, they are not elves. The dwarves of Thedas are cut-off from the Fade, meaning they have absolutely no access to magic."

Talia couldn't even begin to imagine a life without magic. How drastically different their worlds seemed to be. Based on statues around Vvardenfell, dwemer looked nothing like the dwarves of Thedas.

Speaking of Varric… "I noticed that Varric's incredibly nosy when he senses a story."

"Is there a point to this question?"

"I only wanted to know why he hasn't probed me about anything related to my world," she said. It was true; neither Solas nor Varric have asked her anything about Nirn.

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably. "That is because we have not mentioned anything about it to them."

"What? Why?" she asked in confusion.

"We believed it was your secret to keep. Just because we know it, does not simply mean others needed to know about it too. It was actually Leliana's idea."

"Leliana?"

"She said spreading it to the masses would cause alarm that the Inquisition was not ready to curtail. She also told us she remembered how much the Hero of Ferelden wished to keep her true heritage a secret. As it is no one's business but yours, we have decided to keep quiet about your origins. It is entirely up to you if you wish to tell it to them or not."

Talia was taken aback at the thoughtful gesture. It was not something she expected from them. "Thank you," she said sincerely. She would likely end up telling the two, they all spent too much time together for them not to realize something was up. Solas was especially intuitive.

"It was the least we could do." Cassandra looked down. "You've agreed to help the Inquisition so willingly, even after the way we initially treated you."

Talia looked over at Cassandra, who looked genuinely contrite, and she gave her a smile. "Well, I believe you have to return the favor?"

"What?" the Seeker asked in confusion.

"Tell me: who is Cassandra Pentaghast?"

Cassandra didn't seem to want to share much about herself, but she did anyway. It seemed the Seeker came from the Royal House of Nevarra, a country somewhere north of Orlais, and was seventy-eighth in line for its throne. She and her brother were orphans, as their parents had tried and failed to oust the King and were executed for it. Cassandra had run away from her life of being a noble and went to join the Seekers of Truth.

Talia asked how she ended up being the Right Hand of the Divine, and Cassandra flushed.

"It is refreshing to meet someone who does not know the story, as it has been greatly exaggerated, I assure you. I simply rescued the previous Divine, and my reward was to serve as her Right Hand."

"That seems to be the painfully short version," Talia said, and Cassandra sighed.

"To hear people tell it, I alone saved Divine Beatrix—Justinia's predecessor—from a horde of rampaging High Dragons," she said wryly.

"And what really happened?"

"I stumbled upon a conspiracy to kill the Divine—with a Templar Knight-Commander at its heart. And there was a dragon battle at the Grand Cathedral, but I had a lot of help from loyal mages who rallied to the cause. They were the ones who freed the dragon from control; without their help, both the Divine and I would have died. And yet I became the Hero of Orlais, and they were forgotten."

Talia knew Cassandra felt guilty about it, but she knew that people tended to elevate one focal person during times of crises.

“The masses are quick to elevate any one person who seems to be at the heart of the fighting. They forget that battles aren't won by leaders, but by those who follow them," Talia agreed. Did the songs ever mention Baurus, who lived his entire life trying to atone for his imagined crime of letting Uriel die on his watch? What of Caius, Jena, and Steffan? Blades who had died protecting the Imperial City, protecting Martin; did the people ever remember them? No, only she and Martin were forever immortalized in songs and books.

They were silent for a moment before Cassandra spoke again.

“How did you come to be a mercenary?”

Talia pursed her lips. This line of questioning was making her a bit suspicious. No doubt, Leliana had asked Cassandra to gain more information on her. For a moment Talia was silent, trying to think of a way to explain it. Half-lies were best of course, it would be easier to keep track of it than made up stories.

"After I left Morrowind, I stayed in Skyrim for a few years. I met my estranged uncle Drayven." Uncle was a mild term. Perhaps Great Grand Uncle? Ancestor? Talia thought back to the day they met, in Skyrim. She had the misfortune of attempting to pickpocket him, and of course he'd caught her. It was hilarious and awkward, both of them just finding out that they were actually related.

"Since I was adamant on leaving my old life behind, he offered to train me." And train her he did, in fighting, sneaking, stealing, and lying. But she'd coupled it with constantly studying magic, and as Drayven said, it made her twice as deadly.

“We parted ways after that, and I moved to Cyrodiil, determined to start my new life." She'd joined the Thieves Guild first, and a few years after becoming the Gray Fox, she committed her first murder and was recruited into the Brotherhood. “I acted as a hired mercenary at first, but most usually paid for my services as a bodyguard.

“I got so well-known that the elite guard spoke to me one day and offered me a sum of money to protect the Emperor. They were pretty desperate, the assassins had already killed all his heirs." Somehow, Talia didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell Cassandra she was actually imprisoned, and was accidentally roped into protecting Uriel.

She frowned as she remembered the Emperor, how he pressed the Amulet of Kings into her hands and asked her to find his heir. "Emperor Uriel Septim VII died on my watch..." she said quietly.

Cassandra looked stricken, but she didn’t interrupt Talia as she continued speaking.

“But he had another heir, a bastard who never knew his father. A priest at one of the local temples.” She half-smiled at the memory of Martin's bemusement, disbelief and then acceptance of his role. "I was charged with his safety as well.”

Talia took a deep breath as she spoke Martin’s name. The pain that came with the recollection of his death would never truly go away.

“I fought through the depths of Oblivion for him," she said. "But it wasn't enough. He sacrificed himself to save his people—the very people who doubted the legitimacy of his claim. He willingly died for them, for me, when it should have been the other way around.”

There was a pause as Talia gathered herself, trying to hide what little of herself she’d shown Cassandra. “Sometimes, I wonder, what good is fighting the dark if the dawn was never going to come?"

The warrior looked at her sympathetically, but the pain Talia felt wasn't even faked. Thinking of Martin, of their easy friendship, of the things that could have been—it hurt.

"Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps that was his purpose in life, to save your people," Cassandra said quietly, and Talia was sure her words were meant to have been comforting, but it stung anyway.

What kind of god would have his loyal follower suffer through so much, only to have it end with him dying anyway? Akatosh was twisted if he truly had all that power, but refused to intervene. However, she couldn't deny that he interceded on everyone's behalf and banished Dagon from Nirn.

She could already feel the panic, the hysteria, rising up her chest, and she would not let Cassandra see her in such a state. Composing herself, Talia stood.

"Herald…"

"I'm feeling a bit tired, Cassandra. I think I'll retire to my tent. Good night." Without waiting for a reply, the dunmer escaped into the safety of her tent. And when she'd cast the appropriate muffling and silencing wards, she hugged herself, trying to calm her shaking fists, and whirling thoughts.

Chapter Text

Talia shut the book in front of her and leaned back in her chair with a sigh. Whatever free time she had was used in figuring out the mystery that was the Hero of Ferelden and her appearance in Thedas. There were many things about her that seemed fantastical, but one of the things about her that had caught Talia's attention was that they called her Stormcrown. She'd been taken aback and she'd asked how the Warden had been accorded that title. Cassandra had given her a bemused look and told her that that was the Warden's name, not her title.

Savith Stormcrown.

There was no way it was her real name, especially if she had lived in Skyrim. Nobody used Talos' name as theirs while in Skyrim and lived. Nords were particularly touchy when it came to Talos. She'd made the idiotic mistake of questioning the legitimacy of his divinity at the bar in Windhelm, and ended up with a black eye and a split lip.

A sharp knock on her door jolted her out of her thoughts. Before she could say anything, the door was kicked open and Varric entered, holding two mugs in one hand and a plate full of rice and smoked venison in the other.

"Why bother knocking if you're going to barge in anyway?" She rolled her eyes as he made himself at home in her small cottage.

Varric mock-gasped. "Everyone knows you have to knock before entering. Andraste's ass, didn't they teach you any manners in that world of yours?"

Talia rolled her eyes at the dwarf. No matter how determined she was to dislike Thedas and every being on it, Varric slowly wormed his way into her heart. His easy smiles and funny stories brightened her rather dour countenance.

When he'd noticed that she was reading a book during one of their nights in camp, she could tell the exact moment his face closed off. Against her better judgment, she'd confessed her situation to him that night. The dwarf had thought she was making fun of him and proceeded to give her the cold shoulder for a few days, until Cassandra, of all people spoke to him and confirmed the story. Solas raised an eyebrow at all of them when he came back from scouting and both Cassandra and Varric immediately shut up. He didn't pry, but the knowing look he gave her made Talia feel like he already knew all about her situation.

It had taken a while for Varric to warm up to her again, but when he did, he'd asked if he could make a fictional book about her world, and she'd answered by hitting him on the face with the Chant of Light.

"What do you want, Varric?"

"What, I can't visit my favorite Herald?" He asked innocently, but Talia simply gave him a look. "Fine, I thought you'd been cooped up in here too long and I'm here to force that," he pointed to the food. "into you."

"That's nice, Varric. But unless you're hiding a sweetroll in your jacket, I doubt I'd be able to eat any of the food you're giving me."

He crossed his arms. "What's it gonna take for you to actually start eating properly? A fainting spell in the middle of a mission?"

"I do eat, Varric. Not as much as you or Cullen, but I eat plenty."

"And when was the last time you ate a proper meal? And no a handful of grapes does not constitute a proper meal."

"I had breakfast," she muttered as she turned back to her notes. He was almost as bad as Lukas, who was only worse because of that one time he'd tried to hold her down and force feed her some ham and bread.

"What are you working on anyway?" He asked as he peered over her shoulder. "Well, I have no idea what those squiggly lines mean." He pointed at her notes, then at the stack of books near it. "But those books at least are in a language I can read. I don't think you're going to get much accurate information about the Hero of Ferelden from those."

"Well what choice do I have?" she sighed. "It's not as if anyone here has actually had a conversation with the woman."

"Uh, I actually did."

At his words, she turned around and gave him an incredulous look.

"What?" He blinked.

"You've met her, and you didn't think to mention this to me?" she asked.

"You never asked?" Varric shrugged.

Talia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Consider this as me asking then. When did you talk to her?"

"Hmmm, tell you what. You start on that venison, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

She leveled him with an unimpressed look, but she reached for the plate, and Varric gave her a smug smile before settling on her bed.

"So you have met her?"

"It wasn't under the best circumstances," Varric flicked an insect off his jacket. "And I think she wasn't at her best either."

"What do you mean?" Talia prodded.

"Well for starters, we first met her at the Deep Roads, and we were harboring a Grey Warden deserter. So it didn't make for a nice little reunion."

"How bad was it?" She shoved some food in her mouth when Varric gave her a pointed look.

"Well," he drawled. "When she saw Blondie, she cast this spell and the idiot was sailing across the hall and cracking his head on the wall. I've never seen Hawke so mad, he gave this war cry and tackled her to the ground. I think he forgot he was a mage for one moment." Varric rolled his eyes. "She knocked him unconscious with one punch. Junior—Hawke's little brother tried taking her down, but anyone with eyes could see the Warden was a better fighter and she kicked his ass too. And then she proceeded to beat the shit out of Blondie. Took three of her men to pull her off him, and I think that's just 'cause she allowed them to do so."

"And what were you doing the whole time?" She asked.

"If you're asking if I did anything to stop her, the answer's no. I'd only known Blondie for a few weeks, and Stormcrown can be pretty fucking scary when she's mad. Besides, somebody had to look after Hawke, what with how hard she brained him. And, we still needed her help."

At her questioning gaze, Varric continued. "Both Bethany and Carver contracted the Taint, all of the Wardens there noticed. They supposedly could save them, but they could only do it if they're sworn to secrecy. For a moment, all of us thought Stormcrown wouldn't take them in. Because, I quote, 'The Order isn't a charity case. If you want to join, you'd better pull your weight.' Hawke looked ready to throttle her, but I think the huge bump on his head served as a reminder not to try any idiotic moves."

"You have to join the Wardens to get cured?" Talia asked curiously. She'd read that the Wardens were a secretive order in general; it was one of the main reasons people never really trusted them, despite their saving the world no less than five times.

"I don't know if they're doing any curing at all," he grunted. "When I saw Sunshine—Bethany again, she looked so jaded and cynical. Couldn't look Hawke in the eye. But it could have been Carver's death."

Talia quirked an eyebrow at him. "They weren't able to cure him?"

"Well, they were…supposedly. After a few months, a March Warden, Stroud, came to Hawke's house and relayed the news. Said he was killed in the line of duty, and he gave gold as compensation, but Hawke just threw it back at his face. He couldn't believe that Carver had been killed by darkspawn; he was too good a fighter for that. Blondie knew something, but he never did tell. Said he couldn't give out any more order secrets."

"And when did you get to talk to her?" she asked again.

"Her other wardens went to go and bring Sunshine and Junior back to their headquarters in Tantervale, but Stormcrown remained to 'deal' with Blondie." He grinned at the memory. "We'd never seen Blondie as subdued as when he was in her presence. Both he and Justice were quiet as a mouse. They had an incredibly long talk, which ended with Stormcrown screaming so loudly, her voice rattled walls and windowpanes…literally."

"Literally?" she asked skeptically.

Varric raised his hands and drew an 'x' mark across his chest. “Cross my heart. It at least discouraged us from eavesdropping any further. The way they talked." He shook his head. “Seemed that they shared more history than just commander and warden. Made Hawke so jealous he stopped talking to Anders for a week.”

The Hero and the Terrorist? and wait jealous? This…Anders actually became lovers with two heroes?

The dwarf laughed at her expression. "Oh yes. Apparently, they'd been lovers of a sort before Blondie made his disappearing act. No wonder she was so mad when she saw him. After their 'long talk', I invited her to the Hanged Man. I figured she'd need a drink after dealing with him."

Talia allowed herself a smirk. "You just love befriending all these important people."

"Not my problem if all you hero types naturally gravitate towards me," he smirked. "I learned not to pry much about her, but she was free with her stories. Told me a lot of shenanigans they got into during the Blight, but she never wanted to mention anything after the battle. Also told me a lot of stories about her time as a member of a thieves guild."

Talia hummed thoughtfully as she sipped the warm cider Varric had brought. A member of the Skyrim Thieves Guild? Perhaps someone who joined after she'd left? As far as she knew, Drayven was the only dunmer there at that time.

"What does she look like? I assumed she took off her mask? I don't think she could have drunk with it on," she said wryly. When they were in the Hinterlands, Talia had seen a wooden mask being sold in one of the stalls. She had a feeling she'd seen it before, although she wasn't sure where. Upon asking the storeowner what it was, he had given her a strange look, but said it was a carving of the metal mask Stormcrown was known for wearing. Talia had likely seen it in Skyrim, but she wasn't sure where.

"Well, both of you are of the same race, obviously," he said. "You both have the same hair color and eye color. But I think her skin's a bit bluer. Honestly, it was such a long time ago, I don’t remember much,” he admitted.

"I'm surprised your meeting with her wasn't included in your book. I'm sure even a mention of her would've increased your readership," she said. She had skimmed the Tale of the Champion, as she did other books, searching for any mention of the Hero of Ferelden, and found nothing.

Varric looked uncomfortable. "When I asked about her and Anders, she looked tired. Defeated. Blondie's disappearance hit her pretty hard. It didn't seem right to take advantage of someone like that."

Sometimes, it surprised Talia how thoughtful some of her companions could be.

"I asked her if she enjoyed being a Grey Warden."

"And did she?"

"No, and there wasn't even a hint of hesitation when she said it," he said. "Said she would have preferred never meeting the previous Warden-Commander. She couldn't help being angry at him, but she told me she understood more than anyone that Wardens do whatever needs to be done."

Talia frowned at that. "What does that mean?"

"The tales say she joined the Wardens because she couldn't bear seeing innocents die when she had the power to stop it."

She couldn’t prevent herself from rolling her eyes. "The masses love their romantic bullshit."

"Don't I know that." He winked at her. "But she said she didn't have a choice. Mind you, this was after her sixth mug of ale, so she wasn't making much sense."

"Did she say anything about our world?" she asked hopefully, but Varric shook his head.

"No, the only thing I guess could have alluded to it was she said she didn't belong here, and that she no longer wanted to be here. She wished she were a mage, so she could figure out the shit that's happened to her and leave when she finally did."

"Anything else?" she prodded.

"Nothing that I can think of," he said. "Most of her stories centered around the Blight, and nothing really before or after that." He paused. "You know, if you really need to know more about her you could ask—"

"Leliana, I know." She felt guilty for her curtness, but it was annoying to realize she had no choice but to talk to the Spymaster. She still didn't know what she thought about Leliana, but Talia knew that if she asked the red head anything about Stormcrown, she would have to answer a few questions herself.

"She's not that bad," Varric encouraged, "A bit scary when she wants to be, but you have to remember she's on our side, Rubes."

Talia barely suppressed the urge to groan. "Rubes?"

Varric grinned. "You know, rubies? Red eyes?"

"I suppose it's better than 'Red-Eye' or 'Glowy'," she surrendered.

"I think this one might stick," He winked. "Now that my job here is done…" Talia blinked. When had she finished her food?

"Maybe you should replace Josephine as our ambassador," she offered. "Your negotiation skills are pretty good."

"Nah, Ruffles is a whole different animal. You should see her talking to merchants and noblemen."

There was a moment of comfortable silence as Varric gathered her empty plate and mug and gulped down the last of his ale. As he stood up and made his way to the door, Talia spoke.

"Hey Varric," she said quietly.

"Yeah?" He looked back.

"I—just…you know you didn't have to bring me dinner," she finally said. The dwarf was kind to her when he had no reason to be, and she wasn't sure if she deserved it.

Varric gave her an understanding smile. "Rubes, if there's one thing I've learned about you hero types, you always seem to have the weight of the world on your shoulders. And if there's one thing I learned after our little episode in the Hinterlands, it's that I don't mind sharing in that weight. Might be a bit cliché, but for what it's worth, I'm just here if you need to talk to someone. I won't even charge you for it!" His smile turned into a full-blown grin as Talia let out a soft chuckle.

"Thank you, Varric." She gave him a small, but genuine smile.

He saluted her with his hand carrying the mugs. "Don't mention it, Rubes."

After he left, Talia updated her notes before retiring to bed. She spent a few hours tossing and turning, unable to sleep. There were plenty of things plaguing her mind: the Inquisition, Stormcrown, theories of how she appeared on Thedas…

When it was apparent that she wouldn't get much sleep, she dragged herself out of bed, grabbed her dagger and opened her door. She stepped out of her cottage and was met by the bitter, cold breeze of the Frostback Mountains. It was utterly silent around Haven, the only others awake were sentries posted sparsely around the village. She approached the stone fence overlooking the training grounds and leaned on it. The harshness of the wind and the coldness of the stone numbed her to everything, and even her warring thoughts settled the longer she stared at the dark nothingness in the horizon.

She wasn't sure how long she'd stood there, but her fingers grew stiff, her eyes dry, and her ears frozen. It was a testament to how weary she was that she didn't have the energy to lash out when she heard someone approach. Talia already recognized who it was based on her light footsteps, but she wanted to ignore her. A heavy fur blanket was settled on her shoulders, and she subconsciously wrapped it around herself.

"Leliana," she finally acknowledged after a long while.

"Couldn't sleep?" The soft voice asked, and Talia turned to face her.

For once, Leliana wasn't wearing her official Spymaster uniform, but a simple, long-sleeved tunic and breeches under a thick fur coat.

"No," she replied. "Did you need something?"

"You sound troubled."

There was a brief silence, punctuated only by the howling wind. But Talia could only ignore Leliana for so long. She opened her mouth to answer, but the bard spoke first.

"I think some tea would do us a world of good," she said almost absentmindedly. With a swish of her white coat, she turned around and started walking slowly, only pausing to look back when Talia didn't move. "Join me?"

Against her better judgment, Talia followed Leliana back to one of the cottages near the Chantry. As they stepped in, Talia took in the sparse decorations and lack of personal belongings. The only things of hers that Talia could see were her bow and quiver, which was on a desk at the far end of the room. A kettle was already sitting upon the stove when they arrived, and although Talia already knew, it confirmed the fact that Leliana had been waiting for her.

Talia took a seat at the small dining table near the door, and watched Leliana as she prepared their drink. The bard filled two cups and set one in front of Talia before taking the seat opposite her.

"Thank you," Talia said politely and warmed her frozen fingers by clutching the cup.

Leliana took a sip from her tea and a glitter of amusement passed her eyes when Talia did nothing more than roll the cup around her hands. "I assure you, I have no intentions to poison you."

Talia gave her a sharp smile. "Never even crossed my mind."

Well, this is going swimmingly, Talia thought sourly, as Leliana smiled.

"I'm glad your excursion to the Hinterlands went well. The refugees can rest easily knowing the Inquisition has disbanded the Templars and Mages in the area. It's a shame that none of the Templars were willing to surrender themselves to our cause."

Talia nodded. When they'd hunted down the main bulk of each faction, they had given them the chance to join the Inquisition and "end the threat of the Breach". To her surprise, at least half of the mages in the Witchwood had laid down their staffs and surrendered, which caused dissention in their ranks. At the end of the fight, only a handful remained, and Talia had instructed those who knew Restoration to stay with the refugees to help. The rest were brought back to train as battlemages. The templars however, were a different case. They refused aid once they learned there were mages among them, and Talia was forced to cut them all down.

"It wasn't a pretty job, but I'm glad it's over and done with," Talia said.

"As am I. Cullen wasn't very pleased at the thought of more mages, but he has treated them as he would any other soldier under his command."

"As he should. Those mages have gone through a lot, and I promised them a place where they can practice their craft freely." On their way back, with the Horse Master and a few other brave souls, Talia had gotten to know the few mages that accompanied them. Most were young, and had no choice but to join the rebels when the Circles fell. A few were apostates and have been running from Templars and the Chantry since they were children.

They talked about their life in the Circle, how there was no privacy, and everything they did was watched. Their research would be put to an end whenever the templars deemed it "too dangerous", which usually meant every time. Thankfully, not all templars were the same. They spoke about the Knight Captain and a few others who were kind and friendly, and helped them get out when the Circle fell.

When the mages started talking about the Harrowing, it had taken a fair amount of control not to rage and hit someone—preferably Chantry officials. To force someone into a meeting with a demon to test them was not something that any decent person would do. It sounded as if they were setting the mages up for failure.

Magic was something to be celebrated; no mage should ever have to live in fear of their abilities.

"You feel very strongly about mages," Leliana commented.

"No person should have to live as a slave to somebody else's fear. Precautions must be made for possible possessions, but suppressing their right to freedom is not one of them," she said.

"I believed the same," Leliana said as she sipped her tea. "When we got to Kinloch hold back during the Blight, a group of blood mages had taken control and it was overrun by abominations. The Knight-Commander had called for the Right of Annulment."

A shiver ran up Talia's spine. "What exactly is the Right of Annulment?"

Leliana was silent for a moment, but her expressionless face grew solemn. "It is the Right of templars to annihilate all mages in a Circle. It's a last resort, but it's been exploited in the last few years."

Purification… a soft voice whispered in Talia's mind, and she tightened her grip on her cup.

"Luckily, we were there to stop them." Leliana looked pensive. "There were so many of them still alive when we went through. Children and elders alike."

"As much as I dislike templars from the first-hand accounts of mages I've encountered, I don't think the idea of killing children and elders would sit well with them."

"But they would still go through with it," Leliana argued.

"Of course," Talia agreed. "But sometimes, we all must do things we don't want. There are just some orders that we cannot disobey."

The time has come to test both your skills, and your loyalty to Sithis.

Leliana's silence was an agreement in and of itself. The Spymaster was someone who looked like she'd gone through a lot and made plenty of difficult decisions she had to live with. Perhaps there was a time Justinia had ordered her to do something against her will, but as Talia said, there were simply some orders that could not be disobeyed.

Talia sipped her tea to prevent her from saying anything else. Chamomile, honey and a hint of cinnamon, a popular blend in Morrowind. Her expression must have been telling, because Leliana spoke.

"It was taught to me by Savith," she said quietly, and Talia looked up sharply as she did, and found Leliana watching her with an expressionless face. "She said her parents used to sell them at their stall when she was little."

"It's a blend commonly sold around Morrowind, my homeland," Talia finally said.

An uncomfortable silence stretched as they broached the topic of Talia's world.

"I've been wondering why you haven't approached me and asked me about Savith." Finally, Leliana had seemed to tire of their small talk. "When you have asked all others about her."

Talia brought the tea up to her lips as she contemplated her answer. She thought of saying that she thought Leliana would be uncomfortable with the topic. Or she could point out that Leliana never really talked about her at all.

"I don't trust you."

Perhaps truthfulness was needed just this once.

The surprised look on Leliana's face told her that the bard didn't expect her to be so blunt.

"May I ask why?"

"I can tell that you were a bard, that you used to be an assassin and spy by trade. It's in the way you speak and lie, the way you can effortlessly manipulate people to do what needs to be done. Don't take it as an insult—I think you're very good at what you do. Being a Spymaster is something that requires these abilities." She paused. "You do not give without asking for something in return. I haven't approached you because I don't know what you'll be asking from me by giving me this information."

The passive expression was back on Leliana's face as she answered. "It takes one to know one, I suppose."

Talia inclined her head. "I haven't done much spying in my life, to be honest."

Leliana narrowed her eyes. "What are you then?"

"I'm fairly sure you already have your ideas." Talia crossed her arms over her chest. "Whether you can give me an incentive to confirm or deny these is entirely up to you."

The redhead sat up straighter and gave her an appraising look before speaking. "You may ask me whatever you wish, and I will answer your questions honestly and to the best of my ability." She looked at her through slitted eyes. "But whatever is spoken here must never be repeated to anyone outside."

Talia pursed her lips. "Very well. I will answer your questions truthfully, but I reserve the right not to answer questions that are too…personal in nature."

"I agree."

"How will I know you speak the truth?"

"How do I know you speak the truth? You have been lying to us since you got here," Leliana countered.

"And can you blame me? What reason have I to tell any of you the truth about me?" She didn't bother denying her lies. Leliana was smarter than that. "Should I bare myself to Cassandra? Who has already threatened to condemn me for a crime I had nothing to do with? To Cullen? Who would sooner see me beheaded for whatever magic I have?"

Leliana acknowledged her words with a sharp nod. "I understand your hesitance, but you must see it from our point of view. You staggered out of there—the only survivor of that explosion, bearing a mark on your hand similar to that of the Breach. Add to that the fact that you said you were the leader of a mercenary band, but your possessions say otherwise." At Talia's raised eyebrow, she said, "I am not stupid enough not to recognize an assassin's arsenal when I see it."

Talia inclined her head in agreement. "And I am not stupid enough to trust people I barely know."

"Then we are at an impasse. There is nothing left to do but trust each other to be honest." She cocked her head to the side when Talia kept silent. "We are all in the same boat, Talia, and I would prefer it to sail rather than sink."

She stretched out her hand, and after a momentary hesitation, Talia took and shook it.

"Very well. What is it that you wanted to ask?" Talia offered, she needed to organize her thoughts and questions she could ask Leliana. It was likely the last time it would happen, since neither of them was the kind to allow others to know much of their history.

"I saw your black robes when you were unconscious," Leliana said, and Talia immediately stiffened. "I recognized the insignia as the Dark Brotherhood's."

Talia forced herself to answer. "And what do you know of them?"

The Spymaster leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I know that they are a guild of assassins who dedicate their kills to their god, Sithis. I know of the Night Mother, how they keep her corpse and how she whispers to the Listener. She told us a little about hierarchy—the Black Hand, Speakers and such."

"These are the brotherhood's secrets, none but the children of Sithis know this. Was Stormcrown a member then?" Either a fellow sister or a traitor. Did the woman work with Bellamont? Members of the Family never talked about the Brotherhood to outsiders. Of course, unless Leliana could cross back to Nirn, her knowledge about the Brotherhood couldn't affect them. However, it still irked her that Stormcrown would willingly give out this knowledge.

Leliana watched her impassively. "Yes, although we did not know right away. She didn't part with this information so quickly, it took months on the road before she admitted to being an assassin. She was burdened by a lot of things, and we were willing to listen to her. In truth, she told it to Zevran first, who was also an assassin, and the rest of us found out a few weeks after."

"And how did you take the news?" She asked curiously.

"Not very well, admittedly." Leliana stared at the fireplace, a distant look in her eyes. "I became afraid of her, and I often prayed to the Maker to save her soul from her Night Mother. Zevran didn't care much, nor did Morrigan or Sten. Wynne was disgusted with her, and things between the two of them became tense for a very long time. Alistair was horrified, and it took him a while to come to terms with it, but he accepted her."

"Why did you not tell the others of your suspicions?"

And now, the truth was bared: she wasn't just an assassin, but a member of a cult performing ritual killings. Knowing how they felt about blood magic, Talia was not sure what the others would do if they found out what she was. Probably kill her in a fit of self-righteousness.

Leliana threaded her fingers together and placed her hands on the table. "I serve the Maker, and as such, I wish everyone would convert and see the truth that lies with Him. I used to believe I was chosen—as some say you were—but I am not as naïve nor as optimistic as I was ten years ago." She paused. "Your being a member of a cult disturbs me, but does not matter in the long run. You cannot practice your faith in this world, as your Night Mother does not exist here, nor does your god Sithis. If you do not go around killing random people, then we will get along splendidly. I only care about how you and your abilities can aid the Inquisition in its goals. The others are not as…open-minded as I am. Hostility among the key members of the Inquisition is the last thing we need right now."

Mass killing sprees? she thought wryly. Some of her Siblings loved killing, but Talia didn't enjoy it enough to murder random people. "I've already pledged to help the Inquisition in any way I can."

"And so you have." Leliana gave her a brief smile. "You've been performing very well, actually. The quotes from the Chant of Light, giving people your blessing, maintaining an aura of calm and peace but still retaining enough fire to encourage the people—it's obvious you have experience in manipulating a crowd."

"Or," Talia countered. "I could be very good at being a leader."

"I think it's a bit of both. Are you the new Listener of the Dark Brotherhood then?"

Talia wanted to lie and say no, but maybe she should keep her word just this once. "I've been leading the Brotherhood for two years."

"And who was the Listener before you?"

"Ungolim," Talia answered. "He led the Family for many years before he was killed." Before I killed him.

"Ungolim?" Leliana mused. "Savith wasn't quite sure who would be leading after her disappearance."

"She became Listener?" she asked in bemusement. Perhaps there were more years in between them than she had thought. Talia had never heard of any assassin called Savith. "I've never heard of her."

"What about the name Cicero?" Leliana asked, and Talia raised an eyebrow at the challenge in her tone.

"Unless you mean Cicero, the man who works at my local newspaper company, then no, I do not know who he is."

"Talia often told us stories about him. He was as mad as they came—dressed like a jester and sang about disemboweling people. She said he was the Keeper."

"Keeper?" Talia felt herself getting a headache. The Night Mother hadn't needed a Keeper since the Second Era. It was a high-ranking position, separate from the Black Hand, but second only to the Listener. According to their texts, the Keeper was the only member of the brotherhood who knew the Binding Words, and could verify if one was truly the Listener. "I think I would have heard of such an…eccentric character."

"You agreed to be truthful." Leliana's tone grew flat, and it grated on Talia's nerves.

"Perhaps it's your friend who's been filling your head with lies about herself," she snapped.

"Then answer me this: you lived in Skyrim for a time, did you not?" After a short nod from her, Leliana continued. "Then why is it you've never heard Savith? She was as famous as they come—she's the Dragonborn."

A beat passed as Talia stared at Leliana in disbelief.

"And that is how I can tell that your friend is a liar. All Dragonborn since Talos have been from the Septim bloodline, and the last of them passed two years ago. I spent thirteen years in Skyrim, and I have heard nothing about Savith Stormcrown!" How dare she? A Dragonborn? The gall of someone to pretend to be a part of the Septim bloodline!

Leliana, as predicted, did not take too kindly to the accusation that her friend was a liar. Her tone was icy as she replied, "Savith Stormcrown was a hero. Not just here in Ferelden, but in Skyrim as well. She ended the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War. If you were truly a member of the Dark Brotherhood, you would have known her. She assassinated the previous Emperor."

Talia dragged a hand down her face in a rare show of frustration and annoyance. "Dragons are extinct! There was no Civil War! Pelagius Septim IV died from a sickness, and his son, Uriel Septim VII was killed by the Mythic Dawn. Not by the Brotherhood. Martin Septim was the last of their line, and he died saving Nirn from Oblivion!" Talia didn't particularly care if Leliana wasn't familiar with half of the things she said, her temper had burned hotter as she spoke. What kind of lies was Stormcrown spewing? And why? What was her agenda?

Leliana had deflated sometime during her rant and looked contemplative. "Martin Septim? I've heard that name before," she murmured.

"If Stormcrown arrived here years before I did, then it is quite impossible for her to have known the existence of Martin Septim."

Leliana's lips thinned. "Savith has not lied about her being the Dragonborn. I have seen her use her Shouts—what did she call it…Thu'um?—her voice is loud and powerful enough to shake the foundations of the earth."

The dunmer fell silent. Hadn't Varric mentioned something about it as well? Her voice shaking windowpanes? She shook her head. "Having the power to harness this…Thu'um doesn't mean she's a Dragonborn. It's not possible, Leliana, but let's say for a moment, I suspend my disbelief and accept that she is Dragonborn; there would still be the issue of her nonexistent Dragon Crisis and Civil War. And her imaginary Keeper. If she were truly a past Listener, I would have known of her existence. But she was based in Skyrim, that in itself sounds dubious, as Cyrodiil has been the main headquarters for the Brotherhood since the beginning of the Third Era."

Leliana closed her eyes. "There would be no reason for her to lie. She has little magical talent, but I've seen her call the spirit of an assassin to help her more than once. She said it had been a boon given to her after she completed a contract."

"It only means that she's a more accomplished mage than she lets on." Talia pointed out.

"Don't all members of the Dark Brotherhood go to the realm of their god when they die? If she is able to summon one of your number, surely it's because your god allowed it?"

"And does this spirit have a name?" she asked with veiled sarcasm. "Are you quite sure he was a member of the Brotherhood?"

"Lucien. Lucien—"

Although she knew it couldn't be, Talia found herself asking, "Lachance?"

"Yes. A disconcerting fellow, but reliable. Savith didn't summon him often; he was very…morbid." Leliana cocked her head to the side at her reaction. "You recognize the name then?"

Talia opened and closed her mouth several times, but her voice failed her. She shook her head, no, it was not possible. "No," she choked out. "The Lucien I know had died recently. There is no chance it could have been the same person."

Her hands were shaking as it gripped the cup, and Leliana noticed. "Your Lucien was important to you then?"

My Lucien…the thought was almost laughable.

Talia took a deep breath. "He was my mentor." was all she said. Expanding on their relationship was not something she was inclined to do, least of all with Leliana.

"The spirit never went away unless he was 'killed' so to speak. Sometimes he spent days roaming around with us, and he had this certain propensity to talk," Leliana said. "He often spoke about how he was betrayed, how he was killed most gruesomely, and," she paused, giving Talia a meaningful look. "How proud he was that his protégé became the leader of their Family."

Talia's breath caught, and she took a gulp of her now-cold tea to calm herself. She tried telling herself that it was a coincidence, but her gut was screaming at her, telling her it was him. "And how did he die?"

There was a hesitance in Leliana’s words. "Tortured slowly by his fellow assassins in an abandoned house. At the end, he said he was no longer recognizable—" She never finished her sentence as Talia's cup slipped past her fingers and fell to the floor.

Every fiber in her body froze. It was him.

The air, heavy with the metallic scent of blood; his dismembered corpse, hanging from the rafters; his eyes, plucked out and laid down beside the tools they used…

The warmth of something being pressed to her hands snapped her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to see Leliana hand her a new cup of tea.

She took a sip of her drink, relishing in the burn it left on her tongue and her throat—distracting her from thoughts of her Speaker. She focused back on the issue at hand. If Savith could summon Lucien's spirit from the Void, then she was truly a favored daughter of Sithis…but for her to be able to do so, she should have existed after Lucien's death.

"Talia?" Leliana asked softly.

"It's not possible," she muttered. "Lucien died only two years ago…if Talia arrived ten years before me, how could she be able to summon someone who wasn't dead yet?"

Stormcrown was the from the future? Perhaps…Talia had always seen time as a linear thing. It didn't even occur to her that time in this world didn't run parallel to that in Nirn. Talia rubbed her eyes in exhaustion.

"It sounds ludicrous…but I think that she's from the future, or that I'm from the past. Either way, it means that we weren't brought here by chance…" Voicing her thoughts made it easier to accept. Surprisingly, Leliana simply nodded and considered the idea. After hearing of parallel worlds, how could the idea of time travel sound ridiculous? Everything about their situation was already unbelievable—what was one more thing?

But a Dragonborn? Then that meant Savith truly was the heir to the Stormcrown.

And whoever brought them to this world had the power to transcend space and time.

She was sure that somehow, somewhere, Akatosh was laughing at her.

Chapter Text

"What's her real name?" Referring to her as Stormcrown now made Talia uncomfortable. "Stormcrown is a title, first held by Talos, who’d founded the Empire."

"Savith Idren," Leliana said, and Talia nodded, recognizing it as a common name in Morrowind. "She used Stormcrown because it sounded less exotic and elvish than Idren. Dragonborn would have been the logical choice, but she said she'd gotten tired of hearing it for the past six years. She used to say that only very few called her by her name."

"And how old is she? What year was she born?"

"She was 58 when we met, so about 69 now. She was born in the Fourth Era, but I'm not sure what year," Leliana said, and Talia felt her eyebrow rise. "What is it?"

Talia shook her head, how young Akatosh's favored child was when she saved the world. If she met Leliana when she was 58, and she'd been called Dragonborn for 6 years, the dunmer had only been 52! "I did not expect her to be so young. I'm 74," she offered.

"You look a bit more mature than her," Leliana answered carefully as if afraid she would be offended by outright calling her 'old', and Talia almost snorted.

"I understand humans don't have the same lifespan as we elves do; 74 is quite old for you. Dunmer reach the age of majority at 50, and we can live up to 800, although there are some who have already surpassed that age."

"In truth, every person in this world has similar lifespans. They say the Elves used to know the secret to immortality—but it's been lost since the fall of the Dales."

Another similarity. Talia brought a hand up to her temple. "Can I get some ink and paper?" At the rate they were going, Talia was likely to die from the deluge of information before she managed to close the Breach. When Leliana procured the items, she wrote down keywords, and things she needed to do further research about. She sighed and took a sip of her tea as she organized her thoughts.

"Do you know how she was transported here?" she finally asked.

Leliana nodded. "She told us that she was captured by the Thalmor, and she was saved by her companions. When they were escaping, she stayed behind to give them a chance to run. She said she doesn't remember what happened. One moment, the world around her was burning, and the next, she was lying in a tent, being tended to by elves. The Sabrae Clan of the Dalish had found her in an old elvhen temple. One of them claimed to have seen her fall from the Eluvian when they were exploring. I'm afraid I don't know much about the Eluvian, just that they were magical mirrors used by the Ancient Elves."

Talia wrote down 'Thalmor', 'Dalish' and 'Eluvian', resolving to find out more about them.

"The previous Warden Commander was the one who found her, as well as Savith Mahariel, a hunter from the Dalish Clan." At Talia's sharp look, Leliana nodded. "The same name, yes. Duncan, the Warden, said that the Taint from the mirror passed to both of them, and the only known way to survive it lay with joining the Grey Wardens. Mahariel died on their way to Ostagar, and was never able to join the Wardens."

Talia made note of it, and beside it she wrote of Hawke's siblings, and how Varric said Savith had had no choice. With a frown she also noted down: Savith Mahariel (deceased)—Savith Stormcrown, Talia Lavellan (deceased)—Talia Indoril = coincidence?

"It was Duncan who'd suggested she never remove her mask. They played it off as something cultural, and King Cailan was the only one she'd allowed to see her without a mask. He was very accepting, but everybody else looked on in distrust."

"Her mask, I've seen it before. What is it?" Talia asked.

"It's called Krosis," Leliana answered. "It's a Dragon Priest mask. She has a few more, but they all look similar in appearance."

A dragon priest, how fascinating; Savith must have led an interesting life, Talia mulled. It was comical how quickly she'd gone from thinking of Savith as s'wit to sera, but these were strange times indeed.

"And she never removed it?"

"When we were in public, she almost never did. Most people just assumed she was human because of her height, but foreigner, based on her accent. She took it off in Orzammar, the Brecilian Forest, and during the Landsmeet, as a sign of good faith to potential allies. The dwarves and the elves had no problem with her, she'd given them her aid after all. They were curious of course, but we agreed to the half-Qunari, half-Elf story. But the nobles at the Landsmeet were horrified when they saw her." Leliana's lips twisted into a grimace. "Her credibility was ripped to shreds—simply because of what she was. They questioned her loyalty and her motivations. They called her an Abomination, the Grand Cleric was already ordering Templars to take her away—it was pandemonium."

"What happened then?"

A small smile graced Leliana's lips. "Savith spoke—and everyone listened. Her voice was pitched low, but we could hear every word, it shook us down to our very bones. I remembered how she looked then, with her mask off, her expression grim. She spoke with such conviction that they had no choice but to believe her.

"'You would risk your country over petty grievances such as my complexion, the color of my eyes and my race?' She said. 'While the darkspawn are amassing their forces, we remain here speaking of inconsequential things instead of gathering our resources and fighting back. I traipsed around Ferelden, was branded as a traitor, constantly looking over my shoulder as left and right people tried to kill me. When all I've done was unite the races of Thedas into an army that can drive back this Blight? Where were you when I solved the political strife in Orzammar and braved the Deep Roads to find their Paragon? Where were you when Kinloch had fallen? And only we had the will to save the mages and templars who'd become victims of a blood mage? Where were you when we saved Redcliffe from a horde of undead?'"

In the soft glow of the firelight, it was plain to see how much Leliana adored and admired Savith Stormcrown.

"'You have been hiding behind your Chantry walls and your stone doors. While you rest on your laurels, I and my company,' here she gestured to all of us, Morrigan was so uncomfortable with all the attention. 'Braved the wilds, defied death, risked getting Tainted just so we could give Ferelden this fighting chance. So do not speak to me of loyalty.'"

Talia felt she was getting a glimpse of both Savith's personality, as well as how Leliana acted when she was younger and freer. Her eyes lit up and her hands were animated as she told her story. Perhaps at one point, Leliana loved telling them, but as she grew older, as she faced the harshness of life, they had lost their appeal.

"And they actually changed their minds?" Talia asked.

"Yes." Leliana's smiled dimmed. "I remember thinking that this was the power of words. If these nobles could be convinced so easily, perhaps changing the minds of others would be possible. Of course, I eventually learned that it was her Voice that did all the work, and not her words."

"Her voice?"

"Her Thu'um, she called it. Unchecked, her Voice could coerce, seduce and kill others. I'm not sure if I can explain it well. You know how mages sometimes lose control of their magic when they're emotional? In the same way, Savith sometimes loses control of her Voice. When she's trying to charm or intimidate, her Voice projects this need. If she does not make a conscious effort to stop it, it comes as naturally to her as breathing."

That sounded both incredible and burdensome. If she had that power, Talia would constantly second-guess people's affections or friendships.

"Such is the power of a Dragonborn," Talia murmured. She wondered if Martin didn't have the same power. Was that why he could easily inspire their army? Or was that because he was Martin? "Is that how she convinced King Alistair to spare Loghain's life? I read about it in that book…"

Leliana grimaced. "Yes, although Alistair had gotten so furious with her that he'd agreed to marry Anora out of spite."

"Anora?" She recognized the name.

"Loghain's daughter and King Cailan's wife. She would have been Queen if Alistair never agreed to be put forth as King." Leliana said. "The woman was very cunning. She had Savith devise a rescue plan to get her out of Arl Howe's dungeons, but betrayed them when they were caught. Savith ordered the rest of the team to leave with Anora, and she was imprisoned in Fort Drakon. Although she never said it outright, every one of us knew she was tortured, but she endured it, and waited for the opportune moment to break out." She paused. "Savith despises Anora for what she did, and she swore that the woman would never sit on the throne if she could help it."

"Did she kill her then?"

"When Alistair agreed to marry Anora, Savith was…distraught, but she never showed it to the public. A few days before their wedding, Anora had killed herself. She was found hanging by the neck from the balcony. There was a suicide note written in her hand."

Talia raised an eyebrow. "And did anyone connect it to Savith?"

"Mages and healers studied her body, there'd been no signs of blood magic, physical wounds, bruises or anything that could be constituted as her being tortured. They tried to look for evidence of her being threatened, but nothing came up." Leliana shrugged. "I know it was Savith, but she never admitted to any of it. Nobody else seemed to suspect her though, and upon further investigation, they all agreed it was a suicide and not a murder."

Talia was suitably impressed. To fake a convincing suicide was quite difficult, especially with such a high-profile target. Luck was a huge factor. Perhaps she had been blessed by Nocturnal?

"Do you know if Savith serves any Daedra?"

"Well, there's your Lord Sithis, and your Night Mother…" Leliana said, and Talia stopped herself from pointing out that neither was a Daedra. "The dragon god, I'm not sure what his name was. As well as Talos, the man-god."

"Was she a member of the Thieves Guild as well?" Talia remembered Varric mentioning it.

"Yes," Leliana confirmed. "She joined after she settled the Dragon Crisis and the Civil War. She thought of it as a much-needed escape from her duties as Listener and Dragonborn. She became the Guildmaster after the previous one was revealed to be a traitor and murderer."

Guildmaster of Skyrim Thieves Guild. Talia wrote down. Beside it, she added, Nightingale—NOCTURNAL. Although Drayven had tried to keep it a secret, Talia was neither blind nor deaf, and she knew of the guild's inner circle a few months into it.

"Did she mention anyone else?"

"I think there was the god of madness…and there was the one that invited her to a drinking contest for a staff. She said she lost at least a week of her memory."

"That's Sheogorath and probably Sanguine, respectively," Talia said as she wrote them down. "Anyone else?"

"I know there are more, but I can't remember their names."

"Did she have any artifacts? If you can remember the names of the swords or staves or describe how it looked, I could speculate on who gave it."

Leliana looked contemplative. "Her sword was white and gold. At the base, there was a circular stone that glowed brightly when we fight the undead. Other than that, I don't remember anything else about her weaponry."

Undead? —Meridia?

Talia noted that she and Savith were both Champions of four Daedra—Sheogorath, Sanguine, Meridia and Nocturnal, as well as children of Sithis and the Night Mother. Yet, Talia couldn't shake the idea that Akatosh was behind all of this.

"You mentioned a Dragon Crisis?" Talia remembered.

Leliana appeared almost excited to tell the story. "It officially begins when Savith was crossing the border to Cyrodiil, but was caught in an ambush between the two warring sides in the Civil War…"

When Leliana finished her tale, Talia had to stop herself from becoming slack jawed. If it was accurate, Alduin the World-Eater appeared in Skyrim, and Savith drove him out of Nirn and into Aetherius where he met his end. The Dragonborn had physically entered Sovngarde!

A shout, Talia wrote down, composed of three words in Dragon Tongue that transported Savith back to Nirn. Perhaps it could work for them as well?

And the Blades, Talia thought grimly, almost wiped out, save for two people. Why and how, Leliana couldn't remember, only that they were all being hunted down by the Thalmor. Still, it was quite embarrassing how they decided to abandon the Dragonborn, someone they'd sworn to protect, simply because she refused to kill her Dragon mentor.

At the same time, Talia couldn't help but notice the similarities between them: being captured for a crime they didn't commit, set to be executed but saved through sheer luck.

Or Divine intervention, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Uriel Septim whispered in her mind.

“Perhaps we were both brought here because of what we've done for Nirn,” she murmured, deep in thought.

"And what was it that you did for Nirn?" Leliana asked.

Talia stalled by drinking her tea. It wasn't something she liked to share—her being the Champion of Cyrodiil would get their hopes up, and there was no guarantee she would ever succeed in closing the Breach and stopping whoever was behind it.

"I was called many names," Talia said slowly. "But for propriety's sake, let me introduce myself in the overly traditional, formal, dunmer way. I'll include all my titles, even the less savory ones, as some may call it."

Leliana raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

The dunmer sighed heavily and she threaded her fingers. Best get it over with. "I am Talia, daughter of Lord Varis and Lady Helsi of the Great House Indoril, Seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, Listener to the Dark Brotherhood, Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, Archmage of the Mages Guild, Guildmaster of the Fighter's Guild, Champion of the Daedric Princes Azura, Boethiah, Nocturnal, Meridia, Sanguine and Sheogorath, High Curate to the Tribunal; also known as the Gray Fox, Vanquisher of the Mythic Dawn, Savior of Bruma, Hero of Kvatch, Oblivion Walker and Gate Master."

Talia simply looked at Leliana, who to her credit, was trying to hide how surprised she was.

"Archmage?" she finally said.

"As you may have already guessed, I am very proficient in magic. I've been training since I was seventeen," Talia said. "Magic has always been and always will be my greatest weapon."

"I see you took my words about mages very seriously," Leliana remarked.

"And I'm glad I did. Cassandra and Cullen may have killed me on the spot if they knew exactly what I could do with my magic." At a gesture, the kettle on the hearth shot across the room and into her hands. Leliana remained silent as Talia refilled both of their cups.

"I know you've spoken to Cassandra, so you've heard that I ran away from my duties as High Curate and fled to Skyrim." At Leliana's nod, she continued, "I met one of my relatives, and he taught me how to fight, steal and sneak. After thirteen years, I moved to Cyrodiil and joined the Guild there. I won't go into specifics, but I became guildmaster after three years. As head, all homeless people, beggars, street children, at the Imperial City fall under my protection."

"I thought being a member of the Thieves Guild was about earning a profit?"

"Then that means you've never been part of an actual Thieves Guild," Talia allowed herself a wry smile. "We protect the marginalized from being oppressed by the nobles, tax collectors and the guardsmen. If taxes were levied, I stole them and gave them back. I tried my best to help them find work, but most wouldn't hire someone living in the streets. The most important rule we have was that we never killed—bad for business."

"And you did?"

Talia looked away from Leliana's assessing gaze and out the window. "It was collection day, and they were particularly hard on all the poor at the Waterfront. There was a boy, barely out of his majority, who was taking care of his grandfather. They demanded an amount of ten septims, and they knew the boy couldn't afford it. He couldn't pay…so they punished him."

Talia turned back to Leliana, her face devoid of expression.

"When the others finally got the word to me, I rushed to them. All I found was the boy sobbing, holding his grandfather’s corpse." She could remember how the boy had wept into her tunic, how her blood boiled at the thought and how her vision had become tinted in red. It wasn't difficult to find out who the guardsmen were, and she'd disposed of them—but not before torturing the one who'd dared to lay a hand on the sick, old man. "You know the rest, I suppose, I killed the guardsmen, Lucien witnessed it, and decided my talent should not go to waste," she added lightly.

"What of the tax collector?" Leliana asked curiously. "Surely his was the more heinous crime? Did he not order the two to be beaten?"

"Killing him would have linked it to the Thieves Guild, and I couldn't have that." Lucien had found her at the scene of the crime, still covered in the guardsman's blood. He'd looked incredibly amused and extended an invitation to join the Brotherhood.

And if I refuse? she'd asked, and Lucien let out a cold laugh.

I don't waylay the group of guards that are on your tail.

When she'd accepted, he'd handed over the Blade of Woe and ordered her to kill Rufio at the Inn of Ill Omen. He'd given her a predatory grin before he went out and slashed the throats of a few guards and drawing them away from her position. Because of Lucien, the Dark Brotherhood was blamed for the death of those guards, rather than the Thieves Guild.

"I became a member of the Dark Brotherhood after that, and worked my way up. Then one day, I was arrested for a crime I didn't commit." She grimaced at the memory. "There was a noble, and he was harassing an Argonian who was begging for a few coins. I was nearby, and when I approached to see what was happening, he pulled out a knife. I stopped him from killing the beggar. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough to escape when he called for the guards and demanded I be thrown into prison for accosting him in the streets. I decided to go with them rather than make a scene, one of the others would try to break me out sooner or later. And that's where all of it began, actually. In my disgusting, little cell in the Imperial Prison."

Talia thought back to that moment, when she was counting out the days she'd been in jail and wondering how long it would take for them to devise a plan to get her out.

"There was a lot of commotion going on, and then to my surprise, a group of Blades entered my cell, escorting no other than the Emperor of Tamriel himself. Lucky me, that my cell was actually the one with the door to one of the Emperor's secret escape routes." She gave Leliana an ironic smile.

"But why were you put in that cell then?" Leliana frowned. "If it was one of the Emperor's escape routes, it should have been empty."

"Yes," Talia agreed. "But there had been a mix-up. The guards at the Imperial Prison are exceptionally stupid, after all."

"A happy coincidence."

"Or fate, as Uriel would say." Talia traced the lip of her cup idly. "The Septims were said to have been blessed with the gift of foresight. When Uriel caught a glimpse of me, he grew wide-eyed, and proclaimed that he'd seen me in his dreams."

Talia remembered giving him such a look of incredulity when he recognized her. "I ended up following them and killing some of the assassins that had gone after him. Then at one point, the two of us were left alone. Baurus, the only Blade who'd survived, scouted ahead.

"Uriel turned to me and told me that his heirs were dead, and that he was going to die that night, no matter what happened. I said I would protect him with my life." She shrugged when Leliana raised an eyebrow. There was something in him that inspired loyalty, and it was not something she saw in a lot of people. "He told me that he had another son—Martin his name was. He handed me the Amulet of Kings, and instructed me that it must never fall under the hands of the enemy. He told me that I must shut the jaws of Oblivion.”

I know it's much to ask. But please, keep my son safe.

She'd felt so confused and disoriented—and when the assassin appeared from behind Uriel, she'd been too slow to react. Baurus had to pry her away from the assassin's bloody form when Talia would not stop beating and stabbing him.

"Is the Amulet of Kings a symbol of their dynasty?" Leliana asked.

"Yes, but it's more than a simple trinket," Talia paused, thinking of a way to explain exactly what it was in simple terms. "It was given the by the god Akatosh to Saint Alessia, a woman who led the rebellion against their slavers. He blessed Alessia with the Dragonblood, and gave her the Amulet of Kings—so long as her bloodline ruled and they remained pure, he would keep the barrier between Oblivion the realm of Daedra, and Nirn, the realm of mortals. At the start of his term, the new Emperor would light the Dragonfires using the Amulet, and it keeps Oblivion at bay. With the death of Uriel and his heirs, the Dragonfires couldn't be lit, and Nirn had become at risk."

"But he had another child? Martin Septim."

Talia's heart clenched. "Martin was his illegitimate child. I went to Brother Jauffre, the Grandmaster of the Blades. He pointed me in the direction of Kvatch, and told me to fetch Martin, but I left the Amulet of Kings with him." Until now, Talia still didn't know if it had been the right decision.

"When I arrived at Kvatch, the town had already been overrun by Daedra. The sky turned red, corpses littered the ground and the remaining survivors locked themselves inside the Chapel of Akatosh. The entrance to the town was blocked, and nobody could get in or out while the Oblivion Gate was still there. In a rare moment of recklessness, I decided to pass through the gate and attempt to close it myself." She remembered the despair and hopelessness in Salvian Matius' eyes, how he believed that the end of days were coming. But it wasn't the countless dead or the townspeople's anguish that pushed her into entering the gate. She had never admitted it to anyone but Martin, but it was the memory of Uriel, his kind eyes filled with the utter belief that she would be able to help. The same eyes Martin had.

"That was why you reacted that way when I told you demons were pouring out of Rifts," Leliana said in sudden realization. "You've done it before…"

Talia shook her head. "Yes and no. Closing an Oblivion Gate is nothing like closing Rifts. It is anchored to Nirn by a Sigil Stone. If taken from the pedestal, the gate collapses, and anything that isn't of Oblivion is cast back to Nirn." She looked down at her hand, which glowed green every so often. "Closing a Rift is more like harnessing my magic into a conduit. The rift pulses, and when it seems as if it can take no more of it, it implodes. I don't fully understand how it works, but I plan to figure it out."

"It's essentially the same though," Leliana insisted. "Demons pouring out, and you're the only one who has the power to stop it."

Anybody could close an Oblivion Gate, but only she could close Fade Rifts. That was a very big difference. She truly wanted to help Nirn during the Oblivion Crisis, but here she felt like she was forced to do so. She'd saved the world once, why was it that she needed to do it one more time? If she hadn't appeared when she did, Lavellan would be in her place, and while Talia wouldn't wish this horrid fate on anyone, at least the elf was originally from Thedas.

What was happening was horrible, of course, but Talia was tired. She was no longer the same person who fiercely protected the people of the Waterfront, who leapt headfirst into Oblivion to save Kvatch, who eagerly awaited instructions from Martin and Jauffre and did everything in her power to save Nirn. The aftermath of the Oblivion Crisis left her with too many scars that couldn't and wouldn't fade over time.

"They say when you walk the plains of Oblivion, you should be extremely cautious. For when you enter Oblivion…Oblivion seeps into you as well," Talia murmured. "I didn't think anything changed in me when I first stepped into that gate and came back out successful. But perhaps I simply didn't know myself very well."

Leliana was quiet, but her face looked strangely sombre.

"There is no way for me to accurately describe what Oblivion—the Deadlands specifically—was like. Imagine a place with dried up land, and pools of lava everywhere—where you constantly hear the screams of the tortured but are unable to help. Imagine a place where blood runs in rivers, and every bridge your cross is made from bone. Imagine a wasteland filled with demons and horrible creatures of every kind…" Talia looked at Leliana. "That is what the Deadlands was like."

Talia breathed in deeply. "When I finally returned from Oblivion, I went to the chapel to find Martin, who was a priest there. Predictably, he wouldn't believe me when I said he was the Emperor's son."

'Why do you think the Daedra summoned a Great Gate in Kvatch? Certainly not because they simply wanted to destroy a random town in Cyrodiil! They're looking for you! And if we don't leave now, they will find us.'

"He eventually did, and I took him straight to Jauffre. Upon my arrival, the Priory was being attacked by the assassins, and though none of us were harmed, they managed to get the Amulet of Kings."

Leliana's eyes widened, and Talia could see that somewhere deep within her, she still loved a good story.

"We retreated to the Cloud Ruler Temple in Bruma, a safe haven for the Emperor and his Blades. I was tasked to do reconnaissance and infiltrate the group of assassins. But we learned they weren't simply assassins…they were a cult. And they served Mehrunes Dagon, the Daedric Prince of Destruction. Dagon has always been relentlessly invading Tamriel since the First Era, but the Dragonfires have always prevented his success.

"I infiltrated the Mythic Dawn, as their cult was called, and there I met Mankar Camoran, their leader," Talia fiddled with the Mundane Ring on her finger. "Before I could grab the Amulet he disappeared, into a place he called 'Paradise'. A small piece of Oblivion, made just for him." She remembered the Argonian prisoner, the one they sacrificed. "On the pedestal was a book, the Mysterium Xarxes…written by Mehrunes Dagon himself. When I took it, their entire sanctum collapsed. I had to fight my way out of there, and almost lost my life doing so."

It possibly wasn't the smartest thing to do, taking it in broad view of the cultists. Lucien had found her, bleeding profusely somewhere in the outskirts of Cheydinhal. He'd brought her back to the Sanctuary, and when she'd woken, she'd been subjected to his wrath. He'd expressly forbidden her from going back to Cloud Ruler temple, but for once, Talia disobeyed him and headed there even when she was injured. It was one of the few things she would argue with him about, and Lucien often questioned if her loyalty ultimately lay with Martin or with the Night Mother.

'Do you fancy yourself in love with him, Assassin? You would dare disobey a member of the Black Hand for this Martin Septim?'

'I wasn't visited by the Wrath of Sithis; perhaps the Dread Father understands that this is ultimately about duty.'

A hiss. 'Are you not loyal to Mother? Are you not loyal to me?'

His eyes dilated, in anger or in lust? Her hands grabbing his collar and dragging him down. Lips meeting, teeth gnashing, blood spilling.

'Do not forget whom you belong to.'

"Martin studied the book, and he determined the four relics we needed to open a portal to Camoran's Paradise. One was a Great Sigil Stone, and for that, we needed the enemy to open a Great Gate." Talia looked away. Although she knew she needed to do it, a small part of her resented Martin for asking her to gather their allies for him. Because of course they would want the Oblivion gates at their towns closed and of course she needed to do it. "We gathered all allies we could find from the other towns and cities. As we stood there, ready for battle, the gates opened one by one, and when the Great Gate finally opened, I entered it."

It was one of the times when the memory of Martin was only thing keeping her going. At that time, Lucien had already gone to the Void, and she had become Listener for the Brotherhood. "I was stabbed, shot, beaten, but I got the Great Sigil Stone." When the gate collapsed and she reappeared, her knees buckled, and she fell forward. Martin was there; Baurus told her the Dragonborn had refused to allow anyone else to carry her back up to Cloud Ruler temple. When she'd finally woken up, Martin was at her bedside singing a soft lullaby. Something had changed in the way he looked at her, but she could never say what it was.

"As you might have guessed, I went after Mankar Camoran in his Paradise, I killed him, and I got the Amulet of Kings. At that time, I'd thought that the worst was behind us; Martin would be crowned Emperor, he would light the Dragonfires, and we would all be fine."

"As you've already said that Martin Septim dies, I assume things didn't go according to plan?" Leliana said, and Talia realized she'd been quiet for some time.

Talia gritted her teeth. Two years and it still hurt; she could still remember every detail of their fight, from the blood stains on the floors of Temple district to the color of Martin's robes. "When we got to the Imperial City, it was overrun by Mythic Dawn and Daedra alike. I stuck close to Martin and protected him as best as I could. We were close to the Temple of the One…and then a large portal opened…and Mehrunes Dagon stepped onto Nirn for the first time in Eras."

Leliana had gone pale, and Talia could only imagine what she looked like. "He was…huge and fearsome. I truly can't describe him…if you remember my description of the deadlands…that's him personified. I only kept on going because I needed to keep Martin safe. We entered the Temple of the One, and Martin—"

Her breath hitched embarrassingly, and she coughed to hide it. "Martin told me he knew what he needed to do. He ran to the altar, just as Dagon smashed the roof open. The Amulet of Kings was crushed in his grip and he turned into a Dragon…the Avatar of Akatosh. Standing tall and proud, it bit at Dagon's neck, breathed fire at him and defeated him…expelling him back into Oblivion." Tears were threatening to pour down her eyes and she blinked them back. "Martin Septim gave up his life to save Tamriel. By becoming the Avatar of Akatosh, he solidified the barrier between our planes, and it prevents any and all Daedric Princes from stepping foot on Nirn."

He pulled her then into their first, and last kiss—stealing away her breath. But it was one filled with such bitterness and longing.

'Thank you…you've protected me with your life.' He cupped her face. 'But I must do my duty…and now it is time for me to protect you.'

"I am sorry." Leliana's words surprised Talia, and she furrowed her brow at the bard. "I had already guessed that this talk would dredge up unpleasant memories."

Talia was quiet for a moment before she answered. "This talk was long coming…I had simply delayed it."

Leliana's eyes shone with sadness, and Talia was surprised to see genuine emotion in her expression. "Still…I apologize for bringing up such memories."

Talia remained silent and the only sound was the scratching of the quill as she updated her notes. Leliana it seemed, was content to keep quiet as well, staring to the fire in deep contemplation.

"And where was Lucien during all of this?" She asked after some time, and Talia accidentally snapped the end of her quill. The dunmer stared at the black smear on her paper before grabbing a small knife and sharpening her pen.

"…Lucien died before Martin did. I ascended to the Listener just before I started recruiting allies for the battle in Bruma." Talia finally said.

"Will you tell me what happe—"

"No," came Talia's curt answer. Her knuckles were turning white at the tightness of her grip. "No, I will not," she said more calmly.

"I joined the Mages Guild and the Fighter's Guild after the end of the Oblivion Crisis, and ascended to Archmage and promoted to Guildmaster a year after," she said. "I would tell the whole story, but it's very long, and not particularly relevant to our discussion."

Leliana watched her for a moment before speaking. "Do you have any theories of how you were brought here and by whom?"

Talia relaxed marginally. At least Leliana knew when to drop the topic. "I would have thought it was Sheogorath, the god of madness. Since I entered his portal and ended up here instead of the Shivering Isles. Although, I've never known him to do anything except for his own amusement. Akatosh is the most likely suspect. As the Dragon god of Time, he's always meddled indirectly by placing certain people onto a path. Savith, as Dragonborn, is his favored child, and it would explain why he chose her. As for me," Talia sighed. "Perhaps it is because I helped save Nirn, and protected Martin Septim during the Oblivion Crisis.

"As for why he brought us here, I have no clue. We both arrived here during perilous times, so I assume we were brought to help save this world. Both of us have become the most important person for our respective crises, her for the Blight, and me for this Breach. Although I'm not sure why Akatosh would care about this world." Talia brought a hand up to her temple. "If I could speak with Savith, it would be extremely helpful. Perhaps we can help each other get back to Nirn. Do you know where she is now?"

Leliana's lips thinned. "Last I knew was that she'd left the Wardens under the command of Nathaniel Howe because she had some business in the North."

"The North?" Talia frowned, trying to remember her maps.

"Antiva? Perhaps Tevinter…even Seheron. I couldn't get any other information from Nathaniel apart from that. Even Alistair was curiously tight-lipped about it. And that was before they disappeared."

"What do you mean?" Talia frowned.

"Savith left for the trip a year ago, but never really said where she was going. Six months ago, Alistair told me the Wardens at Amaranthine had all disappeared, and he'd had to appoint someone as the new Arl. I asked him if he knew more, but he'd claimed not to know anything about it."

"You don’t believe him?"

"He knows more than he lets on," Leliana said. "I'm not sure if Savith had to do something with it, but the Grey Wardens of Orlais are missing as well. I sent a message to Weisshaupt, but the First Warden hasn't replied to me yet."

Grey Wardens missing-King Alistair may know. Weisshaupt—Warden central command, First Warden - leader?

"Why didn't Savith tell you where she went? Are you not close friends?"

The dunmer would have missed it if she hadn't been observing Leliana, but the bard's shoulders tensed for a moment before resuming its relaxed state. "We…have not kept in touch for many years."

Talia cocked her head to the side as she regarded Leliana. "Does this have something to do with why she would not answer any of your letters?" Leliana stiffened visibly and gave her a frosty look, but Talia simply raised an eyebrow. "Did you have a falling out?"

Leliana clasped her hands together and pursed her lips. She looked strangely tense—very different from her usually composed self. "Of a sort."

"What sort?"

The iciness seeped out of Leliana, leaving her looking strangely defeated. "I suppose if anyone should know about it…it would be you."

Talia waited patiently as Leliana composed herself.

"Justinia and I were close long before she even became the Divine. She was the main reason I had pledged my life to the Chantry, and was willing to leave my life as a bard behind me. Of course, I'd met Savith, and I left my Chantry life behind to pick up my bow and aid her during the Blight. Afterwards, when she'd been named Divine, Justinia offered me the position of Left Hand…and I accepted it, along with everything that went with the title. Ultimately, that meant my loyalty was with Justinia…and I did anything and everything she asked."

Talia was familiar with the feeling. Lucien wasn't just her Speaker—he owned her. Her loyalty was with him first, then the Night Mother. Looking back, perhaps it was the reason Mother let him die, despite being a loyal child of Sithis.

"I have killed, spied, tortured for Justinia…but none of those elicit the same guilt in me as what I've done to Savith." Leliana said mournfully.

It was a moment before it clicked, and Talia's eyes widened at the implications of her statement. "You told Justinia?" she asked incredulously.

Leliana resolutely stared at her hands instead of the dunmer. "Justinia asked me what I knew about Savith. She asked me to tell her everything, so that she could assess if Savith was a threat to Thedas. I did not want to…I wanted to lie, but I couldn't." She raised her eyes and Talia saw it shining with emotion she couldn't identify. "I wrote her a report on everything I knew, but I pleaded with her not to share it with anybody. I at least owed Savith that. I can't be certain she never shared it with anyone, but Cassandra was never informed."

Talia was frozen in her seat. "When you say everything…"

"Everything," Leliana emphasized and Talia shot to her feet and paced the room. Was that how Leliana repaid friendship? By betrayal? The dunmer panicked as she thought of everything she'd divulged. This information would be used against her—

"Justinia is dead…and I will not do the same with you." Leliana tried to reassure her.

"Is that so? Was that what you told Savith as well before you wrote a file about her?" Talia snarled. What had she done? She couldn't believe she'd been foolish enough to tell Leliana about herself.

Leliana stood as well and she approached her angrily. "I did what I thought was right. Justinia as head of the Chantry needed to know this. And while I regret that I'd lost Savith's friendship, I do not regret following Justinia."

Talia breathed in deeply, calming herself. Justinia was dead, and Leliana did not have a Divine to report to. And if she did, well, Talia was not the Gray Fox or the Listener for nothing.

"I will need that file," Talia finally said, having effectively put her mask of indifference back on.

Leliana noticed this and composed herself as well. "What for?"

"If there is more information about her and her past, it may point to who brought us here and how we were transported."

Leliana nodded sharply. "It's in Val Royeaux, in a hidden safebox."

"Draw me a map of the place, I will procure it myself when we arrive at Val Royeaux," Talia said coolly and turned to go. "And Leliana?"

"Yes, Herald?" she replied neutrally.

"If you decide it a grand idea to betray my confidence, I will kill you," Talia looked over her shoulder and regarded Leliana coldly. The Spymaster nodded with icy understanding and bowed slightly.

With that, Talia trudged out of the Spymaster's hut, welcoming the biting cold that seeped under her clothes. She thought of everything Leliana had said, and Talia knew that the Spymaster would never have told her if she'd been planning to do the same to her. Their talk, while not very pleasant, had been filled with warm understanding and sympathy. And while betraying Savith's confidence was a horrible thing to do, Talia understood more than anyone that sometimes, there were simply orders you couldn't refuse.

And if Leliana found a stem of Andraste's Grace on her desk with a small note that said, "I understand", neither of them mentioned it. And if Varric kept giving Talia strange looks for asking him to teach her how to write down those words, nobody mentioned it either.

Chapter Text

Val Royaeux looked exactly how its name sounded: grandiose, and a bit ostentatious. It was Orlais' capital—Talia could recognize the show of wealth and power for what it was. Fitting perhaps, for a city that was also the capital of the Chantry. The way to the plaza was lined with religious statues, most of them depicting Maferath, Andraste's mortal husband.

It was interesting how the Chantry spent its time "assessing" the Chant of Light, striking out verses that seemed to contradict their teachings. When she learned that there were such things as Dissonant Verses, Talia's already low opinion of the Chantry fell even further. Editing religious texts to suit their needs?

Another that was removed had been the elves' involvement in freeing the land from the slavers' rule. Leliana had explained that the Chantry felt it prudent to remove any traces of elves allying with Andraste after the Exalted March on the elven land, the Dales. And it was the same reason the elves were considered as part of the lower class. The prejudice towards elves in Thedas was a lot worse than that in their world, and it made Talia's life a hundred times harder, being a strange-looking elf in the middle of a mage-templar war.

A scout reported to them as they reached the gates, updating them on the current situation in Val Royeaux. Although they'd only requested to meet with the officials of the Chantry, the clerics were determined for it to become a public spectacle.

"No doubt the work of those who wish to put themselves forward as Divine," Cassandra said in disgust. Leliana chose not to comment, but she left instructions with the scout before they headed to their inn.

As Right and Left Hands of the Divine, they were the two key people Talia needed to be present at the meeting. They, more than any of the others, knew how the Chantry worked. Leliana had argued that she couldn't simply leave her post. As Spymaster, she needed to constantly be apprised of all happenings, and being away from Haven made that difficult. Talia had sighed and grudgingly admitted that she valued their advice, and she smiled at the surprise in their eyes.

Being in Thedas was a huge trial, but they did much to help her with the transition, and though she never said it out loud, she was grateful that they were there to explain whenever there was something she didn't quite understand. Although she knew a huge part of it was that she was deemed as their "last hope", she still appreciated it when Cassandra and Leliana would speak to her about pressing matters and silently offered their support.

Cullen and Josephine were left in charge while they were away. And though Cullen still didn't trust her fully, and vice versa, the two remained professional in the way they interacted. Cullen had stopped gripping the hilt of his sword whenever she was around, which Talia considered a huge improvement.

She left Varric and Solas at Haven as well. Considering how delicate the situation was with the Chantry officials, Talia thought it best not to let any mages or non-humans anywhere near them.

Silence fell as they stepped foot in the inn, but Talia paid them no mind as one of their agents led them to their rooms. Just before he left, he whispered something into Leliana's ear that made her frown. As soon as the door closed, Talia turned to Leliana. "What news?"

"There's been sightings of templars within the city," she said.

"Did they say who it was?" Cassandra asked curiously. The warrior sounded hopeful, but Talia was less sure that they would be responsive.

"Knight Captain Reinard from the Ostwick Circle, and Lord Seeker Lucius were the only ones of standing that could be recognized."

"Lord Seeker!" Cassandra said incredulously. "Will they be present at the council?"

"From the various reports, it seems the Chantry wants it to be a public debacle instead of the small meeting we wanted." Leliana sighed. "We intercepted a few letters from Mother Hevara to the Templars; she's adamant to have you arrested and publicly tried for your crimes."

Talia simply raised her eyebrow. "She can most certainly try."

Cassandra scowled. "I do not think the Templars returned to Val Royeaux simply to go back to the Chantry, not after the way they left."

"And where are they now?" Talia asked.

"Not surprisingly, they refused the Chantry's offer of meals and lodging, and opted to stay at the Auberge de la Bonne Fortune. The Lord Seeker travels to and from the Grand Cathedral with a few of his Templars, although we have no intel on what they've spoken about."

Then why were they here? Talia looked out the window, the sun was setting in the horizon. Perhaps a little stroll around the marketplace wouldn't hurt. A little charm and persuasion could get all those merchants to gossip.

"I'll head down to the marketplace," she said decisively. "I'd like to have a chat with the locals."

"You should not go alone," Cassandra all but growled.

"You're intimidating when you aren't trying, and terrifying when you are. None of them will talk to me with you around."

"It is too dangerous for you to bandy around, especially with the price on your head," Leliana cautioned.

"Then tail me.” She shrugged. "But reconnaissance is best done in that den of gossipers than anywhere else."

It took much persuasion, but the two finally relented. Talia would be tailed by two of their best scouts, and Cassandra would be roaming the area as well. Leliana had opted to stay behind at the inn and see what she could find out there.

Establishing rapport with the locals was both easy and difficult. Despite the Chantry's best efforts to quell the rumors about the Herald of Andraste, quite a number were still curious about her. They feared her, as she suspected they would, but they were in awe of her as well. A few kind words spoken in gentle tones later, and most opened up to her easily.

Unfortunately, none of them knew anything of import about the templars and their reason for being in Orlais. Speculations varied from them wanting to come back to the Chantry to more outrageous ones like the Lord Seeker planning to seat himself on the Sunburst throne.

Talia gave that woman an incredulous look, and she blushed. "Well, after the giant hole in the sky, anything's possible."

Yes, like me appearing in another world, she thought wryly.

As she smiled and spoke about the Inquisition to various townspeople, successfully recruiting a few suppliers to their cause, she heard a raised voice shout in Orlesian, and the stuttering of another.

Talia turned her head towards the spectacle. A man stood over a servant girl, whose head was bowed in what Talia assumed to be shame.

He shouted at the girl in Orlesian, and every word seemed to pierce her. When he saw Talia observing, he sneered at her before turning in his heel and walking away. The girl followed at a more sedate pace, her head lowered in deference, but Talia could see her eyes burning with hatred. Nobody seemed to be alarmed at what happened, and the dunmer figured it was the norm in the city, or he was of too high standing that he could get away with doing whatever he pleased.

Something caught Talia's eye at the other side of the market. Partially hidden in the shadows, a blonde elf lay glowering at the pair. She looked surprised when she met Talia's eyes, and she stuck her tongue out at her, before stepping back and blending in with the crowd.

The dunmer thought nothing of it, until she found an arrow embedded on her windowsill that night, with a note and red handkerchief attached to it. Talia subtly inspected it for any poisons before taking the note. She raised an eyebrow as she skimmed the text.

"Word's out that the Inquisition wants to close up the big hole in the sky. I want to help. A little birdie told us the highborn scum from the market wants the Herald dead. Follow the red thingies and it'll lead you to the baddies. - A Friend"

There were squiggles bordering the note, and a rather badly drawn map below the text.

When Leliana entered her room a few minutes after, she simply looked at Talia's leather armor before speaking. "Planning a night out?"

"I'd like to know whose house this is." Talia handed Leliana the note as she secured the straps on her armor. She had a new one commissioned, since she'd been getting strange looks for walking around in robes. And she was sure everyone would have her burned at the stake if they saw her in her Black Hand robes. They were more ceremonial to her at any rate, since it would have been highly impractical for her to infiltrate strongholds wearing such loose clothing. Talia never did understand how Lucien could traipse around undetected in those things.

Leliana called for an agent and handed her the map, before shutting the door. "Who was that note from?"

"Found it on my window. I don't know whom it's from."

"It mentioned highborn scum from the market," Leliana remarked.

"There was a noble," she recalled. "Shouting at his young servant, and he strode around as if he owned the place. I didn't catch his name, however. There was an elf too, at the far end of the market. Blonde. She stuck her tongue out at me when I saw her glaring at the two."

"Could be a trap," Leliana said as she leaned by the door.

"Could be," Talia agreed as she sheathed her daggers and attached them to her belt. "Which is why I'll be surveying the place before I actually meet up with this Friend."

There was a knock on her door, and Leliana answered it. She exchanged a few words with the agent and nodded before closing the door and turning back to Talia.

"Lord Apollinaire Chastain," Leliana announced. "A minor noble. He owns the Auberge de la Bonne Fortune and has trading posts in Jader and Starkhaven. His closest relative and heir, Roland Chastain is a supporter of the Inquisition. We don't have much information on him, but our agents have confirmed that he was the same man shouting at his servant in the market when you were there."

"Isn't that Auberge place the same inn the templars are staying in?" Talia said.

"Yes," Leliana confirmed. "Although there haven't been any sightings of them speaking or communicating, this new information gives us further insight on their decision not to stay with the Chantry."

"The note says he wants me dead. Do the templars intend to dispose of me as well? Does Chastain have a reason to hate the Inquisition?"

"Not that we currently know of," she said. "We cannot jump to conclusions about the templars’ reasons for being here, but we cannot discount this information. With all this wordplay, I can only assume they are a member of the Friends of Red Jenny." Leliana studied the note. "They're a leaderless organization, and they operate more on a favor to favor basis than anything else. They don't take in anybody they deem as rich or noble, so all who operate it are from the lower or servant class." She handed the note back to Talia.

"And what's their purpose?" The dunmer folded and shoved it into one of her pockets.

"Ease the lives of the poor, and the marginalized. Something you can relate to, yes?"

Talia ignored Leliana's knowing smile as she opened the window. "Don't have me tailed. I might end up having to kill Chastain, and I'd rather none of our agents see me do it." She slipped on her Ring of Khajiiti and climbed out of the window onto the streets of the city.

Val Royeaux looked even more splendid in the evening. Lanterns were lit and cast the area in a warm soft glow. Talia stuck to the shadows as she made her way to Chastain's house. She made sure to cast an invisibility spell before scaling the walls.

She landed on the soft grass of Chastain's garden. There were a few guards patrolling, but Talia stuck to the shadows and observed them. As one of the guards entered, Talia slipped through the door before it closed shut.

As she stalked down the corridors, mentally noting which turns she took, she admired the intricacy of the carpet designs, and raised an eyebrow at the gaudy statues and paintings that filled the halls. She passed a few servants who were muttering about where the lord and his guest could shove their requests, and followed them on their way to Chastain's salon.

She entered the room and positioned herself in a corner near the window, both to prevent them from running into her, and give her better access to an escape route if need be. The room was spacious, and Chastain's guest was seated on the armchair near the fireplace.

"And what took you so long to deliver the wine?" Chastain reprimanded the young girl, who bowed her head in submission. "Never mind, just get out of my sight!" He slammed the door in the girl's face, and he turned back to his companion, whose expression, Talia noted, was impassive. "Forgive my staff's incompetence." He sat back down on the opposite chair. "I try to have these rats trained, but I can only do so much for their weak minds."

He poured a glass of wine and handed it to his companion. The man gave Chastain an assessing look before sipping it. Talia could not tell what he was based on his clothing. He did not look like a noble, nor was he dressed like a mercenary. However, the sword strapped on his waist, and the way his eyes darted around the room suggested that he was at the very least, a trained warrior.

Chastain looked nervous as he tapped a finger at his thigh, waiting for the man to speak.

"She arrived today in the city," the man finally said.

"With the Left and Right Hands of the Divine," Chastain nodded, and Talia frowned at their words. So it seemed her Friend's note wasn't wrong.

"The Elder One wants her alive." Talia's ears pricked. The Elder One? Was he the enemy they'd been looking for?

"May I ask why, Ser Conall?" Ser Conall? Was he a knight? A templar?

"No, you may not," Conall said, setting down the glass and still fixing Chastain with a cold stare. There was something unnerving about him that Talia could not put a finger to. But he seemed to be making Chastain uncomfortable, as he was barely restraining himself from fidgeting.

"You said you would provide us every resource available to you," he went on. "And you know where this woman is staying, so tell me: when can we expect her to be delivered to us?"

"I cannot simply have her grabbed! She is with very skilled warriors! It would be suicide," Chastain exclaimed, and Conall leveled him with an unimpressed look.

"The Elder One would be most displeased with this news. Perhaps next time one of your servants tries to tell the authorities about your…magical problem, we won't be there to intervene on your behalf."

Chastain was a mage? Talia knew there were apostates, but to be hiding in plain sight…

The noble stiffened, but he did not rage at the man, as Talia had expected. "What you ask is impossible."

Conall stood up and was in front of Chastain in one fluid motion, sword in hand. "Perhaps I might decide to tell them that I'd discovered that you were a blood mage." He made a show of examining his sword, and Chastain looked as if he might faint any time soon. "And that I was forced to cut you down."

"N-now, let's not be too hasty, ser! Indoril is staying in Orlais for a week! Plenty of time!" Chastain stuttered.

"Hmph." Conall sheathed his blade. "Make sure she's delivered within the week, Chastain. Or you'll find that my wrath pales in comparison to the Elder One’s."

And with those parting words, he strode out of the room. It took Chastain a moment to recover, before he rushed after the man, Talia following him closely.

"I know my way out, Lord Chastain," Conall said.

"Will I ever meet the Elder One?" Chastain asked as they reached the foyer.

Conall turned to him slowly. Wordlessly, he held out his hand, and an invisible force slammed into the noble, and he dropped onto fours, vomiting on the floor.

A holy smite. Talia had seen it in action, but none of those mages reacted as badly as Chastain did. it confirmed that Conall actually was a templar.

He eyed the nobleman frostily, before walking away. Chastain breathed in deeply before shakily getting on his feet. He leaned heavily on a pillar, and stared in the direction Conall left, cursing under his breath. Talia followed him back to his chambers.

As the door shut behind them, Talia decided it was the best time to show herself. She needed to interrogate him, and she'd already decided that Chastain was not going to live past tonight. His death would alert the templars, and this Elder One, but it was for the best. If his assets and properties were passed down to his heir, then they would be used to help the Inquisition.

"So," Talia had the immense pleasure of seeing Chastain turn around quickly, eyes wide and afraid as he saw her. "I see you were contracted to kidnap me. Quite a laughable idea, really.”

"Herald of Andraste! H-how—"

Talia walked towards him slowly, and to her delight, he backed away quickly. When he opened his mouth to shout, Talia cast a silence spell at him, and his eyes grew in horror as he realized he couldn't speak.

She flicked a dagger into her hand and buried it in his shoulder. His mouth was open in a silent scream, and he trembled as he looked at her. She leaned in and spoke softly.

"Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way, Lord Chastain," Talia said. "The easy way, is that I ask you questions, and you answer them truthfully. The hard way." She twisted the knife and Chastain's knees buckled, his face contorted with pain. "I doubt you'd want that. The question is, are you going to be good and cooperate?"

She'd never seen a man who agreed so quickly. Talia tied his wrists together, and shoved him onto a chair before removing the dagger from his shoulder. She cast a muffling charm on the door before lifting the silence spell.

Predictably, Chastain shouted for help, and Talia shook her head at him.

"Nobody can hear you," she said. "I made sure of that." Bringing her hands together, she gathered her magic and cast a blood boiling spell, making him thrash wildly. After a few moments, she released it, and he slumped forward in his chair.

"I'm s-sorry. P-please, stop."

"Sorry?" she feigned. "I'm afraid I didn't hear what you said." She hit him with a particularly strong shock spell in his direction, and he screamed so loudly, they could have heard him all the way to their inn.

"Please s-stop. I'll tell you everything." He sobbed.

"Good," she said. "Let's start with the basics then. Is Conall a templar?" Just to be sure.

"Y-yes."

"And you provide services to him in exchange for his silence?"

"I used to give them g-gold. But after the start o-of the mage-templar war, they asked for s-services."

"You're doing well so far," she praised him. "What kind of services do they ask of you?"

"Transportation, accommodations…other things." At Talia's raised brow, he hastily added, " I-I'm running a group of mercenaries, I hire them t-to k-kill or k-kidnap whoever they ask me to. So that it can't be connected to them."

"And who are their usual targets?"

"I-it—," when he hesitated, she touched his skin and seared it with a mild flame spell. "It used to be m-mages! Apostates! B-but when they started serving the Elder One, h-he had us take templars and s-some Seekers."

Talia's eyes narrowed. "And what do they want with the templars and seekers?"

"I-I don't know." When Talia raised a hand, he shouted, "I swear!" And she lowered it.

"So, tell me, who is this Elder One?"

"I-I don't know! All I know is that he's leading them now! I swear! Please!"

He's leading them? Was the Elder One the Lord Seeker Lucius? There was a commotion just outside the door, and the sound of choking and bodies hitting the floor could be heard. Talia realized that it must be her mysterious Friend.

"Last question." Her eyes hardened. "Who is your informant?"

"W-what do you mean?"

"Name your informant inside the Inquisition and on my honor as the Herald of Andraste, I won't kill you."

Conell licked his lips as he contemplated his answer. "Korrim, his name is Korrim,"

Talia watched him carefully, and she smiled, knowing he was telling the truth. "Thank you for your cooperation." She unlocked the door with a flick of her wrist, and soon enough someone slammed the door open.

As she'd predicted, it was indeed, the blonde elf from the market. She held her bow taut as she spoke. "Just say 'what'."

And like the fool he was, Chastain spoke, "What is the—" And he took an arrow to the head. She snorted as she lowered her bow.

"An idiot is what he was, innit?" she said as she approached Chastain. "Blah blah blah, I'm the greatest thing that's ever lived. Bitch had it coming for a long time,"

Talia remained silent, unsure what to make of the elf. Her mismatched clothes and choppy hair suggested a financially-challenged background. But she was particularly good with the bow and with sneaking, if she managed to kill so many guards while wearing such a brightly colored outfit.

"Torturing him, were you?" She eyed the wound on his shoulder. "He deserves it. Saw you at the market looking at the arse," the elf said suddenly. "Nobody bothers him with what he does anymore, nobody cares about us little people."

"Is that why you killed him?" Talia asked.

She snorted. "Yeah, I mean not just that. He wants you dead, and so I killed him. I wanna help you see."

Talia eyed her speculatively. People tended to look down upon 'the little people' as the elf termed it. But she would never have gotten the information she did without this woman's help. Servants, beggars, and slaves were often overlooked, and they usually were a font of information, if they were so inclined to share it.

"What's your name?" Talia asked.

"Oh yeah! Name's Sera! And you're the Herald thingy!" Her grin turned into a frown as she inspected her. "Thought you'd be more Qunari, I'd love to meet one o' those! Hehe," she giggled. "Woof."

Sheogorath likely claimed this one, Talia thought as she kept her face neutral. "Talia Indoril. Thanks for your note; we didn't know Chastain was a threat."

"Friends really helped with this one," Sera said. "The girl he was screaming at in the market's being beat by him for a looong time," she said. "She sent in the info to us, and I gave it to you. She'll be covering for us tonight, real helpful yeah? The rest of them, the staff and what-not, are going to say he was killed by a man. Usual-looking, black hair, brown eyes and that shit,"

Talia nodded. "I appreciate it. So…why help us?"

Sera bit her lip. "Well I mean, giant hole in the sky and all that. Everything's gone to shit, and I need everything back to normal soon 'cause I have stuff to do, and I can't do that with this magic piss going on!"

Selfish reasons, then, she nodded. She could work with that. "Then consider yourself a member of the Inquisition," Talia said, and Sera gave a loud whoop.

"You won't regret it! I promise!" she grinned.

I'm regretting it already, Talia thought wryly. But information from the little people was crucial, and she wouldn't turn away help when they needed it. She hoped she could just explain it to the others.

"Do you know anything else about the templars?" Talia asked.

"Nah, nobody knows much about what they do and what they want." Sera shrugged. "I mean, there's one bit about the Lord Seeker." She snorted, "Whoever needs lord in front of their names is begging for an arse whooping—but yeah, the Lord Seeker thingy was looking for something. They say he's been looking around the Grand Cathedral for it."

"What was it?"

"Papers, documents thingy. I dunno, they said it had 'important information' on it," Sera rolled her eyes. "But maybe it's just a bunch of old religious Chantry smut."

Documents? Talia thought for a moment before she paled. If the Templars were truly working for this Elder One, their probable enemy, then…

She turned to Sera, "If you want to help, get to Haven, tell them there that I sent you. I'll see you around, but I have somewhere else I have to go." And with that, she left the mansion.

After checking the quickest way to the Grand Cathedral, she put on her Ring of Khajiti and cast an Invisibility spell before hastening towards it.

She didn't run into any trouble, the Cathedral itself was manned only by some soldiers, none of whom seemed to be Templars. Talia quickly made her way up one of the spires. Halfway up, she hugged the wall and groped for the small lever that Leliana had told her about. The panel opened with a click, and Talia quickly entered before closing it behind her.

She conjured a floating magelight as she surveyed the room. It was filled with piles of parchment, and an assortment of trunks, safeboxes and chests in different sizes. She froze as she saw something amiss.

The dunmer had expected the layer of dust that covered most of the room, but the dirt had been disturbed, and it looked like a few footprints that had been hastily wiped in a poor attempt to cover tracks. Talia guided the light towards the suspiciously dust-free area, and her heart dropped.

There in the far corner of the room was the dark red safebox Leliana had described, which was supposed to contain Savith’s file.

It was empty.

Chapter Text

Where could it be?

Talia's mind raced as she thought of the possibilities. Sera had alluded to the fact that the Templars were searching the Grand Cathedral for an important document, but it could have just been a coincidence. How would they have known of its existence? Could Justinia have revealed it to the Lord Seeker before the Templar Order splintered from the Chantry?

The dunmer scoured the rest of Justinia's belongings, hoping to find any more important information.

On the desk to one side were piles of documents, and upon closer inspection, she realized they were files on various people. Talia moved her magelight closer as she read the documents. They were listings of mages and templars that the Chantry felt needed to be watched closely. Upon further browsing, she came across various other names she recognized from the history books Anders, Wynne, Meredith, and finally, one that she had learned recently.

Name: Conall Selbrech

Current Post: Kirkwall

Previous post: Ostwick, Montsimmard

Several mages and templars alike have complained about Selbrech's attitude. He is described as recalcitrant, and extremely difficult to work with. One such example, Knight Commander Trevelyan cited, was when ordered to retrieve a mage who had run away from the Circle, Selbrech killed him instead, claiming that the boy was a blood mage. Both his companions for this quest agreed quickly, however, one of them, Montagne, caved when questioned and claimed that Selbrech simply wanted to kill the mage and had threatened them to keep them quiet. No evidence could be procured, however, and the case was dismissed. Despite this, Selbrech was transferred to Kirkwall upon the Knight Commander's insistence.

When asked why he has not yet been removed from the order, Knight-Commanders Trevelyan and Marteu both grudgingly stated that his skill in battle, sharp wit and vast intellect make him a valuable asset to the Templar Order. His attitude simply needed refining; nothing that Knight Commander Stannard cannot handle.

That was certainly a problem. An intelligent and cunning man was far more trouble than someone who was simply a skilled warrior. Perhaps Conall and Cullen had both been brothers-in-arms for a certain period of time, and resolved to discuss it with him when they returned to Haven. She stuffed the files inside the small pack she'd brought and swept around the room twice to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything important. She ensured that the false panel was locked back in place and her footsteps erased from the dusty floor. Talia paused as she was about to leave the Cathedral. Since she was already there, she might as well make use of it.

It was hilariously easy to find Mother Hevara's rooms, and Talia slipped inside as she distracted the guard with a floating magelight conjured at the far end of the hallway. Hevara slept soundly for a woman who had been slandering the name of a "murderer", she noted.

Talia sighed. It would be so easy to get rid of the woman, but killing her would surely point all suspicions towards the Inquisition. Chastain's death was easier to manage, since his servants had covered for them. But the death of a Chantry official, just before negotiations with the Inquisition…there would be no question about it.

She puttered around Hevara's room, checking for anything that they could use for tomorrow's grand meeting. There weren't any documents laying around that could be used as blackmail material. Talia cast an unlocking spell on Hevara's safebox, and it opened without resistance. As she sorted through the papers, she saw that there was a file about the key members of the Inquisition, which included Talia, and her four advisers.

Talia smirked at her file, which was filled with such nonsense that she almost laughed out loud. Speculations included being a deformed elf, a demon summoned from the Fade, an abomination, and her personal favorite: a half-Elf, half-Qunari created by a blood mage.

Cassandra's and Josephine's files were relatively clean, and Talia wondered if the two had ever done anything remotely illegal in their lives. Leliana's was full of suspicions, but no concrete evidence could be provided that she was a bard, assassin, or spy. There was a short account, however, of her contributions during the Blight.

Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline as she started reading Cullen's file.

Name: Cullen Stanton Rutherford

Position: Commander of the Inquisition's Militia

Previous position: Knight-Captain of the Gallows, Kirkwall

Notes:

Rutherford was considered highly unstable after the Maleficar Uldred's betrayal of Kinloch Hold. He was among those who were unable to reach the Tower foyer after Knight-Commander Greagoir ordered the doors to be sealed. A testament either to his willpower or his luck, Rutherford was the sole survivor of the massacre. He remains curiously tight-lipped about the events, and it is speculated that he may have aided Uldred in his machinations, which was why he was spared and the others killed. One thing was apparent: Rutherford had developed a severe hatred for mages in general, and they believed him to be a threat to mages that may have fallen under his care—

Talia stopped reading and she put the document down in disgust. While she had seen that Cullen disliked mages, it was not difficult to see that he was a just and honorable man. He was professional in the way he handled things and he took his work very seriously.

Sadly, there were no other documents that they could use. However, Talia grinned as she spotted coin purses filled to the brim, there were other things she could take.

After all, she was a thief.

Sera was waiting outside as she exited the Cathedral. And Talia debated whether or not to show herself, but finally decided to speak with the elf. She took off her Ring of Khajiiti and exited the shadows loudly enough that Sera had heard her.

"Been busy eh?" The elf smirked at her as she looked at Talia's bag, which was filled with documents and Hevara's money. "Everyone thinks you're a goody-good, but thank fuck you know your fun! It's great, innit? The very leader of the Inquisi-thingy stealing from the Chantry!"

"They're assholes and don't need this much money. Don't share it around though, it might ruin my reputation."

Sera snorted at her joke. Her new ally seemed easy enough to please, though Talia knew they would be at odds with each other some time or another. Sera didn't seem like the time to appreciate politics, and the elf was as anti-nobility as they came. Still, Talia appreciated her help, as well as all of Chastain's servants. She tossed one of the purses in Sera's direction and the blonde caught it easily.

Her eyes widened comically as she looked at the contents. "Wha—you gotta be shitting me! There's like a whole buncha Royals in here!"

"And now you know where all the donations to the Chantry actually go," Talia smiled.

"I don't need your charity you arse!" Sera growled at her.

There was indeed, a lot of money in each of the bags she stole from Hevara. While the Inquisition needed funds, it would not hurt to share it with those who had passed on the information and aided them. Life as a servant was difficult, and Talia knew they would likely be offended at being given such an amount. However, she knew they would need that money.

"Chastain's servants and Friends gave us important intel that we couldn't have come across without your help." She said seriously. "This isn't charity; this is payment for a job well done. You and they deserve this and much more."

Sera was quiet for once as she stared at the bag, before breaking into a huge grin, approval and understanding lighting up her eyes. "I like your style, Herald-thingy, even if you are a bit elfy!"

Whatever that meant. "Make sure all of them gain a fair share. Give them my thanks, won't you?"

Talia turned away from the elf and started walking back to her inn. "I'll see you at Haven in a few weeks' time, Sera."

Leliana was waiting in her room as Talia climbed back in. The bard quickly drew a knife when she heard a sound, but sheathed it upon realizing it was Talia. She poured a glass of wine for her that the dunmer drank gratefully.

"How goes your stroll?" Leliana asked her as Talia dropped onto the seat in front of her.

"Eventful." Talia raked a hand through her hair. "I think we need Cassandra in here as well."

Leliana raised an eyebrow in askance.

"The situation is dire," she admitted. "As much as I don't want to tell people about my other skills, I'm afraid it can't be helped. Josephine and Cullen will both be told as well, when we return."

Thankfully, Leliana didn't question her any further, and simply left to call on Cassandra. Talia stuffed Hevara's money into her larger pack and placed all the documents she recovered on the table.

The Seeker looked tired but otherwise alert, as she and Leliana strode into her room.

"Cassandra," Talia nodded. "I'm sorry for waking you up so early."

Cassandra waved away her concern and took a seat, narrowing her eyes at Talia's armor and the documents on the table.

"As you have undoubtedly realized, I went out tonight following a lead sent to us anonymously. I had…decided not to inform you because I knew that you would have prevented me from leaving. But the lead was crucial, and I knew I needed to be the one to see if there was any truth to it."

Talia paused and let it sink in. Cassandra looked visibly upset that the dunmer had left the inn without informing her.

"And our agents could not have done this instead?" She finally asked.

Talia handed her Sera's note and explained what occurred in the plaza. "This note was meant for me alone, and I believe that she would not have shown if someone else had arrived."

"And you managed to sneak into this Chastain's house without alerting any guards?"

Talia shared a look with Leliana, and Cassandra noticed. "And again this is something that Leliana knows that you believe I did not need to know about." The Seeker's jaw was clenched, and Talia was certain she was preventing herself from lashing out at them.

"Cassandra," Talia began in her most soothing tone, but this seemed to infuriate the raven-haired woman even more.

Cassandra brought her fist down at the table. "By the Maker, Talia! I know that you do not trust me. It is quite evident, believe me. However, I cannot abide by this! You do not need to bare your soul to me, but you cannot think that you can simply be content to withhold information that could be crucial to the Inquisition! You do not have to think of me as your friend, but at least accord me with the respect that I deserve!"

Beneath the righteous indignation, Talia could see that the Seeker was hurt—hurt that Talia had lied and withheld information. She felt a stab of guilt that would not go away no matter how much she tried to brush it aside. She was growing soft. These things shouldn't even matter to her. Sithis forbid she actually get attached to these people.

Talia's lips thinned in displeasure at this realization, and she folded her arms across her chest. "And did you ever stop to wonder why I called for you so early in the morning? Because I believe this information should be shared to you and to all the key members of the Inquisition."

The expression in Cassandra's eyes didn't change, but she nodded stiffly.

Leliana, thankfully steered the conversation back to more important matters. "What did you discover?"

Talia explained what had transpired, the discussion between Chastain and Conall, the Templar's disturbing countenance.

"You tortured him?" Cassandra asked, eyes flashing in judgment.

Talia stiffened at Cassandra's tone. "I questioned him," she said coolly. "And my methods are none of your concern."

"He mentioned an Elder One?" Leliana intervened once more, and both Talia and Cassandra turned to look at her. "It's not a title I've ever heard."

"Conall had mentioned that the Elder One was the new leader of the templars. Could it be this Lord Seeker Lucius?"

Cassandra waved her hand. "No. The Lord Seeker is not so vainglorious that he would allow people to refer to him as the Elder One. I know him, he is a good man."

"Obviously not, if he truly is connected to the death of the Divine."

"Whoever this Elder One is, he is likely responsible for the Breach," Leliana pointed out.

"And that means the templars had been in league with him since the beginning," Talia said, and Leliana gave a solemn nod.

Cassandra looked momentarily lost as she looked down, but the fire in her eyes returned in a flash.

"How could they? To betray the most Holy in such a manner. And kidnapping the seekers and templars?" she shook her head in disgust. "When I see the Lord Seeker, he will have much to answer for."

"While we are fairly certain that the templars are connected to the Elder One, we cannot accuse the Lord Seeker to his face. Not only would we look like complete fools, but we would be alerting the Enemy to the fact that we are on to them."

"One of his benefactors has been murdered," Cassandra bit out. "I would assume he has already been alerted."

"Chastain had many enemies, and he was not so popular with his servants either," Talia snapped. "There could have been many reasons for someone to kill him. The templars may suspect that we were behind it, but they will never know. Accusing the Lord Seeker on the other hand—"

"And so we should simply allow him to continue these atrocities?" Cassandra interrupted with a growl.

Talia gritted her teeth. Sweet Night Mother, it was like pulling teeth. The lack of sleep, the stress and the frustration with her situation were already getting to Talia. Tempers were already fraying, and if Cassandra didn't back down, Talia was sure they would come to blows.

"For now, we cannot do anything about the Lord Seeker, but what we can do is find out more about them through the traitor." Leliana grimaced. "Korrim, I can't believe it. Did he think we wouldn't find out? I'll have one of our agents interrogate him and have him killed quickly. We were friends once."

"That won't be necessary," Talia said coolly, and Leliana looked up at her in surprise. "Have him detained. I will take care of him personally."

Cassandra gave her a sharp look, but Talia didn't change her stony expression.

"To put it simply, I do not, and never will tolerate or show mercy to traitors." Talia explained in a hard voice.

Traitors had no place in the world. She thought of sick, twisted Bellamont, who'd infiltrated the Family and had her kill each member of the Black Hand. He was the reason Lucien was dead, murdered and tortured in the most gruesome manner. Korrim had been a trusted agent of Leliana's, and he'd been feeding information to the Enemy all along.

No, she would not tolerate such betrayal.

"Understood." Leliana nodded though it was clear that she disagreed.

Cassandra examined the documents that Talia had placed on the table. "Where did you get these files?" She demanded as she skimmed through them. "Did Chastain have these?"

Talia shared another look with Leliana that Cassandra thankfully missed. There was resignation in Leliana's eyes as Talia started to explain.

"I was looking for a file that the Divine had about Savith Stormcrown," Talia admitted and Cassandra looked up in confusion.

Leliana hesitated briefly before speaking. "Upon becoming Left Hand, the Divine asked me to tell her everything I knew about Savith…and I told her everything."

"Everything? Including her true heritage and where she comes from?"

"Yes, everything. Under the promise that she would never impart this information with anyone else."

The "even you", wasn't verbalized, but all of them heard it anyway.

Cassandra was quiet for a moment before speaking in a strangled tone. "Simply another thing I could not be trusted with," she said bitterly, continuing before Leliana or Talia could interrupt. "Where is the file now?"

Leliana looked at Talia, and she paled at the dunmer's grimace.

"When I arrived at the location, it was obvious that the room had been searched. And the file was no longer in the safebox. Sera had told me that the Templars were looking for some 'important documents' in the Grand Cathedral. It's much too related to be a coincidence."

"How could they have learned of its existence?" Leliana closed her eyes briefly. "If it has fallen into the hands of this Elder One…"

The bard left the sentence hanging, but they all knew that this had extremely negative implications.

"I did, however, recover those," Talia continued, nodding to the file in Cassandra's hand. "A list of templars and mages that the Divine or the Chantry believed needed to be watched closely. I noticed that Conall's name was on the list."

"I've met Conall," Cassandra said. "Very briefly, on one of my visits to Montsimmard. He was guarding the main gate. He did not seem…disagreeable. And I do know he was one of the templars present during the fight with Meredith in Kirkwall."

Talia tapped her lips. "Do you know where he went after that?"

"Cullen would likely know more, as he was Knight-Captain in Kirkwall. Maybe he can shed light on this strange development." Leliana pointed out.

"And what of these files?" Cassandra picked up the other bundle of vellum. If possible, her scowl deepened at its contents. "Are these information about us?"

"I took those from Mother Hevara's rooms," as she received another suspicious glance from Cassandra, Talia retorted, "I did not harm the Revered Mother. I simply took these while she was asleep."

"It seems to me that you have much experience with these types of things," Cassandra said dangerously. and Talia straightened her back at the accusation in her tone.

Perhaps it was her overwrought nerves, but Talia replied belligerently. "Of course I do."

A brief silence.

"You're a thief." Cassandra said incredulously.

"Excellent deduction, Cassandra," Talia set her jaw. She was not ashamed of what she was, but their knowing would cause unnecessary tension and conflict.

Case in point, what was happening now.

Cassandra exploded, and Talia was glad for the fact that she'd had the foresight to cast a muffling spell before they started speaking.

"So all this time, we've been housing a criminal?! We have defended you from everybody who has sought to discredit your name and here I find out that you—you—"

"That I what?" Talia replied icily. "That I am a thief? That I steal for a living? That your moral righteousness is so narrow you cannot even see that simply being a criminal does not make me an enemy of the Inquisition?"

"That you lied! Again! What was all that nonsense about being a mercenary then? Sweet Maker." Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose in an attempt to reign in her anger. "I cannot believe I actually believed you."

Talia laughed without humor. "And this is the exact reason I lied about it in the first place. You would have had me executed if you knew I was a criminal." Sithis, if this was the reaction to her telling them she was a thief, she didn't want to know how they would react to finding out she was an assassin.

"I am not such a person that I would sentence you to death for a crime you didn't commit!"

"Who's the liar now?" Talia said cruelly, and that seemed to be the end of Cassandra's patience.

In a flash, she stood from her seat, drawing her sword. Talia leapt to her feet and flicked a dagger to her hand, watching the Seeker for any sign that she was going to attack. Cassandra was shaking with anger, and the two glared at each other for a long moment before Leliana slowly came between them, clasping their hands with her own and pushing them downwards.

Cassandra took a deep shuddering breath, reigning in her anger. She sheathed her sword, turned stiffly and stormed out of Talia's room. Leliana gave her a reproving look, but didn't say anything else as she sheathed her daggers.

Talia closed her eyes and took deep breaths to calm herself. "I could have handled that a bit more tactfully," she admitted.

"Cassandra is distraught, but she will come around," she heard Leliana say. "You do not have to worry about betrayal from her; she is one of the most honest people there are."

Talia heard a chair scrape the floor and she opened her eyes to see Leliana standing over her with a sombre expression.

"I'll have some of my agents cross check the information in these files. Figuring out the templars' movement will be a top priority, as is figuring out who this Elder One is." She nodded before gathering the documents on the table and moving towards the door.

"Will you be telling her?" Talia asked, just before Leliana exited. They both knew whom she was referring to.

"I don't know how I'd tell her if I can't even find her. But if I do, I don't imagine it will end well," Leliana exhaled heavily. "Good night, Herald."

The moment Talia was alone, all the stiffness seeped out of her, leaving her bone tired. Everything was so complicated, and she was foolish to have thought that her masks and lies were good enough to fool everybody. It seemed her skills in that department have deteriorated over the years.

Or she was truly starting to care about these people.

She didn't know which was worse.

They arrived just as Hevara started her speech.

"Good people of Val Royeaux! Together, we mourn our Divine. Her naïve and beautiful heart, silenced…by treachery!"

"Divine Justinia is not naïve," Cassandra muttered as they weaved through the crowd. The setting in the plaza reminded Talia of a public execution, perhaps the only things missing were the gallows. She walked through the throng of people, flanked by Leliana and Cassandra. The Seeker and she had yet to speak about their spat, but both were professional enough to put aside their differences and focus on the meeting with Hevara. The dreamless sleep had done much to cool Talia's temper and allowed her to plaster a smile on her face as they made her way to where the Chantry clerics were standing. The crowd parted to make way for her, either with disgust or reverence, Talia did not know, or care.

"You wonder at what will become of her murderer. Behold the so-called Herald of Andraste!" Mother Hevara sneered as they approached. She and the rest of the chantry officials were standing on a raised platform, subtly trying to assert authority.

Talia kept the polite smile on her face as they stopped just before the stage.

"We have yet to be introduced formally, Revered Mother." Talia raised a hand to her chest and gave a small bow. "Talia Indoril, at your service. And my companions, Sister Leliana and Cassandra Pentaghast, Left and Right Hands of the Divine." Both followed suit and gave a small bow.

"I admit," the dunmer continued. "When we discussed the possibility of meeting and collaborating to close the Breach, I never imagined it to be such a public endeavor. Unless of course, you have decided to start recruiting for our cause, and in such a case, I cannot thank you enough."

Hevara grew purple at the insult, perhaps not expecting Talia to simply state that they'd been in communication with the Chantry.

"How dare you stroll around here after what you've done?" Hevara spat.

Talia blinked at her and allowed a touch of incredulity to seep into her tone. "Surely being a little late to our meeting, which I must say has definitely had a change of venue, could hardly warrant such hostility from you, Revered Mother."

"You are nothing but a heretic! Using the name of our Lady to continue with your blasphemy! It is despicable! And we demand that you desist immediately!"

More than half of the crowd roared and agreed with Hevara, shouting for Talia's blood. At the corner of her eye, the dunmer saw Cassandra clench her jaw, hand hovering at the pommel of her sword. If the Revered Mother thought that she had the upper hand by turning their meeting into a spectacle, she had another thing coming.

The crowd continued jeering as Talia climbed the stairs up to the platform. She stopped a few steps away from Hevara, who was spluttering at her audacity.

"I have never claimed to be a divine being, nor will I ever." She spoke in a clear voice, and the crowd immediately hushed. No matter whose side they were on, Talia was correct in her assessment that they still wanted to hear whatever the Herald of Andraste had to say. "By some miracle, I've been Maker-blessed with the ability to close these Fade Rifts. Does that make me divine?" she scoffed self-deprecatingly. "Certainly not! Simply that a task has been bestowed unto me—to us. Our purpose is clear: seal the Breach and end the madness that has overcome this world." She paused for effect, looking as many people in the eye as she could. "Restore peace and order to Thedas!"

"That's right!" A man from the crowd spoke up. "I spoke to the Herald yesterday! Bless you Herald! She's the most down to earth person I ever met!"

"She's a demon!" The woman across him hissed. "She will trick you with her wily ways! She killed the Divine, she did!"

"She did not!" Talia almost smirked as she recognized some of Chastain's servants in the crowd. "She's Maker-sent! She's here to close the hole in the sky! She wouldn't do that if she killed the Divine!"

The crowd tittered with excitement, and Talia could see them being swayed. She suppressed the urge to give Hevara a smug smile.

"What of you, Revered Mother?" Talia turned to Hevara, and the crowd fell silent once more. "Why do you seek to counteract the Inquisition's cause? Surely we have the same goals?" She spread her arms in the universal 'please see reason' gesture.

Hevara's splotchy face pulled into an even more disgusted expression.

"We do not ally ourselves with murderers and heretics!" she snapped. "The chantry will restore peace to Thedas! But we need a new Divine after you killed our Most Holy!"

The crowd was already split, Talia could see. Some of the Chantry's supporters grew confused and uncertain, and it was that doubt that would be the Chantry's undoing.

"I never killed Divine Justinia." Her pronouncement rang in the plaza as the crowd quieted to listen to her. "Did it never occur to you that I am with both the Left and Right Hands of the Divine? They formed the Inquisition under Divine Justinia's instructions. I understand that my word is not enough, at least trust the two whose allegiance to the Divine has never wavered, who serves her even now that she has passed." She gestured to the two. Leliana had a serious expression, but Talia could see that her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

"They should have called off this entire business and followed whomever is elected Divine! Your Inquisition is nothing but an organization desperate to grab power while the Chantry is at its weakest!"

Talia opened her mouth to speak, but Cassandra beat her to it. It seemed the Seeker had grown tired of Hevara's posturing.

"And yet," she said in a hard voice. "In such a short time, the Inquisition has done more for the people of the Hinterlands than the Chantry has."

Hevara took a deep breath and straightened, shaking with what Talia assumed to be righteous indignation.

"You are traitors to the Chantry! Traitors to Andraste—"

Marching could be heard from the east gate, and Talia turned towards it and caught a glimpse of heavily armed men. She kept her face expressionless as the crowd parted, making way for the Templars to enter. A grey-haired man led them whose expression seemed to be set in stone, and Talia assumed that this was the Lord Seeker Lucius. Strangely, Talia noted, Conall was nowhere to be found. Was he undercover? Or did he work for a different group of templars?

Their appearance was bad news, especially after her discovery last night. Were they here to kill her? Detain her? Bring her to this Elder One? Well, Talia thought as she saw Cassandra tighten her grip on her sword, and Leliana, hands hidden in her cloak, no doubt fingering knives. They were in for the fight of their life.

"See how the Templars have returned to the Chantry!" Hevara exclaimed excitedly as the Lord Seeker, Conall, and another templar climbed the platform. The other chantry clerics behind her looked incredibly anxious. Perhaps they didn't share Hevara's belief in the templars.

Talia didn't remove her eyes from them even as they passed her, and approached Hevara. She almost snorted in disbelief as the Lord Seeker knocked Hevara out with one swift blow to the head. The other templar jerked forward as if to aid the Revered Mother, but Lucius stopped him with a sharp look.

"Still yourself; she is beneath us." The Lord Seeker's voice was firm. Cold grey eyes swept the crowd, his expression impassive.

When the Lord Seeker said nothing, Talia spoke up. "May I ask your business here, sir? Apart from beating up old ladies, that is." She added the last bit, sounding properly indignant about their treatment of Hevara. In truth, if they were not enemies, Talia would likely have given the Lord Seeker a pat on the back for what he did.

Lucius turned his cold eyes to her, and Talia stared back, unafraid. The Lord Seeker seemed to think that he could intimidate her, and that was such a laughable idea.

"We are here," the Lord Seeker said slowly. "Because we wished to meet the Herald of Andraste in person."

"Talia Indoril." Talia bowed slightly, but did not break eye contact with him.

"Lord Seeker Lucius Corin, leader of the Templar Order," he offered, and he paced around the platform slowly. "We've heard many things about you, Herald of Andraste."

"The stories are greatly exaggerated, I'm sure," Talia replied lightly.

"We have heard that this…Inquisition seeks to close the Breach and restore stability to Thedas, or is this an exaggeration as well?" He was mocking her now, and from Cassandra's bemused expression, Talia would assume that this was not how he usually acted.

"That is our top priority, but not our only goal, Lord Seeker," Talia said clearly, and she too, started to amble slowly. It was a dance, a deadly game. To anyone else, it would appear as if the two were simply pacing around the platform. But Talia recognized it for what it was.

They were circling each other, assessing weaknesses, but while their blades were sheathed, both of their tongues were sharp enough to harm the other with the right words.

"Our ultimate goal is peace, but peace can never be achieved if the Divine's murderer is on the loose, terrorizing Thedas." Talia watched the Lord Seeker closely, for any reaction. "Once this monster has been executed, only then can Thedas begin its recovery."

"Then our goals are the same." There was a strange gleam in the Lord Seeker's eyes.

"Indeed?" Talia said, for lack of anything else to say. She didn't expect Lucius to agree, especially after they learned of the templars' involvement through Conall. "The Inquisition has been attempting to contact you for some time, but the issue of the Breach has always been brushed aside in favor of crushing the rebel mages. Sadly, even Templars in the Hinterlands had resolutely fought against us despite our asking them to join in our endeavor."

"The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages. But we have seen that there is a bigger threat that terrorizes our world."

"Enlighten me then, Lord Seeker. What steps do you plan to take in order to close the Breach?"

"That is why we are here, Herald of Andraste." There was a subtle hint of mocking in his tone, but Talia paid no mind to it. Lucius paused in his pacing and Talia stopped as well.

He smiled, and Talia thought it was more terrible than his cold expression.

"We wish to propose an alliance—the Templars will provide the needed assistance, and together, we will close this Breach and end that which threatens our world!"

At his words, the crowd cheered loudly, but Talia did not hear it. She kept her eyes locked on the Lord Seeker's; she was utterly speechless at his masterful move.

The Inquisition had no reason to decline the alliance—they were in need of help, and the templars were giving it willingly. If they turned the Order down, the templars would confirm that the Inquisition knew of their involvement with the Elder One. Antagonizing them would lead them to retaliate swiftly and brutally.

But if they accepted the alliance, the templars would infiltrate their base, and learn more about Inquisition secrets. They could study every flaw, every weakness in the organization. It would be impossible to plan with them hovering around Haven.

Lucius bowed his head mockingly and his eyes clearly said it all.

"Your move, Herald of Andraste."

Chapter Text

Before Lucius could speak further, Talia managed to shake herself out of her stupor and beam at him. "This is wonderful news, Lord Seeker!" Lucius gave her a wary look. "It is such a relief to know that the Templars will be supporting the Inquisition in this endeavor."

"Perhaps we can discuss the terms of our alliance in a less public setting, yes?" Leliana interjected smoothly.

"Indeed, thank you, Leliana, perhaps we can head back to—," Talia was cut off as Lucius spoke.

"We've much to discuss," he said curtly as he stepped off the platform flanked by his templars. He didn't look back at them once, or even have the courtesy to ask them to join him politely, but it was clear that they were expected to follow after him. Cassandra visibly bristled at the insult, but Talia shrugged it off, trying to think of a way to turn the situation around.

People jumped apart as the Lord Seeker passed through, likely worried they would receive the same treatment as the Revered Mother. The woman still sat on the platform looking rather dazed as they all left.

As they walked, Cassandra leaned in to speak to her, but Talia gripped the woman's forearm and squeezed it lightly in a clear warning. We shall speak of this later, she gave her a meaningful look, and Talia could only hope the Seeker understood. Cassandra scowled but nodded, leaving Talia with her thoughts.

Talia could see two likely scenarios if and when she agrees to the alliance: upon their arrival, the templars raze Haven to the ground anyway, or they snoop around, do a bit of reconnaissance before razing Haven to the ground. Either one ends up with Haven destroyed and the Inquisition dead. The only major difference is that the second one gives them a chance, more time to prepare for the inevitable attack. The only option Talia could see was to stall until such a time that they could get the mages to their side. But what could she possibly say to the Lord Seeker to stop the entirety of the Templar Order from descending onto Haven?

Lucius led them to the Auberge de la Bonne Fortune, Chastain's inn, and into a room, set with a long table and a map of Thedas stretched across it. The rest of the templars dispersed, save for two, who entered the room with the Lord Seeker, and one who was in the room they entered. Talia immediately recognized the man studying the map, though she managed to keep her face blank.

Conall Selbrech looked up sharply as they entered, and his expression relaxed when he saw the Lord Seeker.

"Lord Seeker Lucius." Conall saluted.

"Selbrech," he replied. "Join us for the discussion."

"Sir." He gave a nod and turned to study Talia curiously. He was quite a good actor, considering how frigidly he was speaking with Chastain last night.

Lucius turned to her stiffly. "Herald of Andraste, this is Conall Selbrech, Knight-Captain Julius Denam, and Ser Delrin Barris."

Conall stepped forward and grinned charmingly as he was introduced. "It's an honor to meet the Herald of Andraste."

What a dangerous man, she thought. She'd have to be doubly careful when interacting with him.

Talia gave him her most disarming smile. "Just Talia please." She gestured to Leliana and Cassandra. "I'm certain you already familiar with them, but these are the Left and Right Hands of the Divine, Leliana and Cassandra Pentaghast."

All of them took their seats, and the Lord Seeker immediately spoke.

"I wish to make it clear that the Templar Order will be working with the Inquisition in this matter and not for it," he said steely, attempting to stare down Talia, who in turn, simply stared right back.

"I am curious, Lord Seeker, why the sudden change of heart?" Leliana asked. "The Templar Order has always brushed aside our requests for meetings, and here you are, happy not only to initiate one, but also propose an alliance."

Lucius' cold eyes slid from Talia to Leliana. "I do not appreciate the implications of your statement, Sister Nightingale."

"It is a legitimate question, ser. We have never responded to the Inquisition's missives and—," Barris immediately shut his mouth as the Lord Seeker turned his gaze towards him.

"Well, to be perfectly frank, we didn't trust the Inquisition," Conall said bluntly, and Talia noted that Lucius did not turn to glare at him, or reprimand him in any way. "When we agreed to the Conclave, we didn't really believe that we would be able to meet halfway or otherwise come to peace, but we didn't expect the explosion to happen either." He looked down, the perfect picture of distress. "Then out of those ashes, rose the Inquisition. We believed you to be capitalizing on what was the most horrible event of the century."

"So what changed?"

"We heard about what happened in the Hinterlands, how you did nothing but help the refugees. That you stepped in between the mages and templars, calling for a ceasefire."

Not exactly what happened, but Talia wouldn't correct them.

"And then we received letters from the Revered Mother, asking to intervene in their meeting with you. Asking for protection," he said mockingly. "We decided to take the opportunity to publicly announce our intentions. This way, you'd have no question of the sincerity of our desire to team up, so to speak."

The reports were right, Talia surmised, Conall was intelligent, and rather cunning too. This made Sera's information that more important; without seeing it for herself, she would have constantly second guessed herself with regards to the templar's intentions.

"Despite our disagreements in the past, including the attack of those in the Hinterlands, we are interested in allying with you, that is if you're willing to work with us?" Conall said.

Talia threaded her fingers together. "Of course, but we do not want to enter into this alliance blindly. We want the terms of this partnership to be laid out plainly. We are willing to negotiate, of course."

Denam looked at them haughtily. "The Inquisition has no choice but to work with the templars, without us, you have no hope of closing the Breach."

Conall closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation, and Talia almost grinned despite herself.

"The Inquisition is also severely undermanned. You seek to defeat this threat, and yet your army is practically nonexistent."

And there and then, an idea formed in Talia's mind, she just hoped Cassandra and Leliana's acting skills were up to par.

Talia leaned back in her seat and affected a smug smile, causing both the Lord Seeker and Denam to stare at her warily. Conall and Barris, she noted, simply looked at her in askance.

"It is quite amusing how most everybody assumes our forces lack in number," she threw out, and waited for a few moments before Denam took the bait.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously, and Talia flashed him a grin.

"You didn't seriously believe we'd create the Inquisition and not have the numbers to back us up?" At the corner of her eye, she saw Cassandra's eyes widen, but the warrior immediately affected a stony disposition.

"Are you expecting us to believe that somewhere in Haven, you have an army large enough to defeat the Elder One?" Denam asked incredulously, and she could see that both Conall and the Lord Seeker tensed. Strangely, Barris only looked confused. Talia resisted the urge to smile predatorily and she immediately pounced on what he let slip.

"The Elder One?" Talia raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking back and forth at Denam and the Lord Seeker. When they kept quiet Talia allowed some frost to seep into her tone. "I thought this was meant to be an alliance. Are you holding back information from us?"

She could almost see the gears working in Conall's head as he spoke. "There is no definitive evidence yet, but our spies have heard his name being bandied back and forth in the mage encampments."

"You think the mages are behind the Divine's death?" Cassandra spoke for the first time, leaning forward as she spoke.

"Not all of them," Conall amended. "But there has been Tevinter activity in the Hinterlands for some time, we have not yet figured out what it is they are doing there, but they are there. And this Elder One, whoever he is, is obviously the one leading them."

Talia processed this new information. If Conall was telling the truth, then that means the Elder One had ties with both the templars and the mages. She scowled as she realized just how difficult things had become. "We'll have our men try to gain more information on this Elder One."

Conall nodded. "We apologize if we did not seem as forthright with this, I suppose it is a matter of trust."

"I understand, trust is something that must be built between us if we are to function well as a team." Talia nodded graciously, before pausing for effect. "To answer your earlier question, the Inquisition has been recruiting long before the death of the Divine."

The shock on all their faces, including Cassandra's would be quite funny, if only the situation weren't so dire.

"The Divine hoped that the Inquisition would not be needed, but we have always been on standby should the Conclave fail," she continued.

"And you?" Conall prompted.

"And me?"

"Have you been working with the Divine all this time?"

Talia smiled mysteriously, knowing it would frustrate the templars. "No, not really. I've only become part of the Inquisition after the events at the Conclave."

"Come now, Herald, I thought there'd be no secrets between us," Conall said winningly.

Talia hesitated as she thought of what to say and Leliana intervened. "What is it that you expect from the Inquisition?"

"Aid in crushing the rebel mages and restoring order to Thedas." The Lord Seeker looked each of them in the eye as he spoke.

"We'll take the matter under advisement," Talia replied diplomatically. "Anything else?"

"There is no 'taking this matter under advisement', Herald," Lucius replied coldly. "You will either take our terms as they are, or no alliance will be made."

"I cannot, in good conscience make a decision for the entirety of the Inquisition without the presence of its entire council. As it is, Lady Josephine, our ambassador, and Commander Cullen have yet to be informed of this development," Talia said sharply. "And so, when I say we shall take this matter under advisement, we will be taking the matter under advisement."

"You will not speak to the Lord Seeker in such a manner!" Denam stood from his seat in Lucius' defense. In response, Cassandra rose, sword at the ready.

"If you lay a hand on the Herald, I can assure you that you will lose it," she threatened.

"Please, let us cool our heads!" Barris also stood and raised his hands.

"The goal of this meeting is to reach a compromise, not to further alienate ourselves from each other," Conall commented, giving Denam a look. The Knight-Captain grumbled, but took his seat. Cassandra followed suit after throwing the templars a rather impressive glare.

Leliana cleared her throat. "Any other terms, Lord Seeker?"

"Endorsement from the Inquisition to the leaders of each state. The Inquisition will show full support in any and all undertakings of the templars." Talia wanted to give them an incredulous look. That was a tall order, and rather ridiculous. No one in his right mind would ever agree to doing that.

"I see," Talia replied instead. "Anything else?"

"None as of the moment." Conall nodded. "And what does the Inquisition expect of us?"

"As we've already said, the first would be aid in suppressing the Breach, allowing the Herald to close it successfully. The second is full support; the Templar Order will be joining in any and all skirmishes the Inquisition will be engaging in. You will also give us full access to all information—including access to all the Templar Order's spies and agents." Leliana kept her face blank as she spoke, but she looked directly at the Lord Seeker.

"Very well," Lucius agreed, surprising everyone at the table. "And when will the Inquisition be able to give us a definitive answer with regards to this alliance?"

"We can further discuss the terms back at Haven, in the presence of Lady Josephine and Commander Cullen," Talia proposed. "As he is in charge of the Inquisition's forces, Cullen may be able to give you more details about the current status of our army."

"How is it that you were able to recruit so many in such a small amount of time?" Conall asked curiously, and Talia smiled. It was a testament to how much the idea of a hidden army must have bothered them that they kept on asking about it.

Perfect.

"As I've said, we've been recruiting long before the Conclave. I divulge this to you as a sign of good faith, but please do not share it around," Talia said seriously. "The reason we've never announced it publicly was because we feared Orlais' and Ferelden's response to a rogue nation gathering forces in their borders. They would have forced us to disband, and we couldn't have that."

The Lord Seeker eyed her as he asked, "How many are in this…army?"

Talia shrugged in nonchalance. "Let's simply say it's a sizeable amount and keep it at that."

"And where is this army located, might we ask?"

Talia smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to say. Cullen would probably have my head for even divulging the fact that we already have an army."

"You expect us to give you whatever information we have freely, but will not give us the same courtesy?"

"I know that we must trust each other as potential allies, but it is a gradual process."

Lucius gave a disgusted sigh as he stood. "We will be sending a few ambassadors to Haven to discuss the alliance and examine the Breach," he decided. "The rest of the Templars will be joining you once we have been reassured of the Inquisition's status and…" His eyes slid back to lock with Talia's, "intentions." Without another word, the Lord Seeker strode out of the room, banging the door behind him as he left.

Silence permeated the room upon Lucius' departure.

"Well," Barris cleared his throat in embarrassment when all eyes turned to him. "I suppose I'd go and follow after the Lord Seeker." He stood and bowed to Talia. "It was an honor to meet you, Herald." And with that, he also left, Denam trailing after him without a backwards look at them.

Conall remained seated as he watched his companions leave the room.

"Perhaps it is also best if we take our leave," Talia suggested and she was halfway out of her seat when Conall spoke.

"Actually, there is a matter which I would like to discuss with you, Lady Herald." He looked over at Cassandra and Leliana before adding, "Privately, if you will."

Talia gave Leliana and Cassandra a look and jerked her head towards the door. Leliana simply nodded, and rose to leave, but the Seeker gave her a 'we will talk about this' look before leaving.

When the door shut behind them, Talia turned to Conall.

"What is it you wanted to discuss, Ser Conall?"

The templar stood and paced in a show of nervousness before finally speaking. "The matter which I will discuss with you is very…sensitive in nature." He sighed as he took a seat and ran a hand through his hair.

"I am listening," she said when he hesitated. Talia had to give him credit for his stellar acting.

"There is something wrong with the Lord Seeker," he said, and the dunmer had to blink a few times at his statement.

"Is he ill?"

"No, it's…not that."

Talia frowned. "Then I'm afraid I do not follow."

"I…have suspicions that he has allied himself with the Elder One."

Talia's eyebrows rose of their own accord. "That is a bold accusation."

"It sounds ridiculous, I know, but I've seen him," he implored. "Talking to the Tevinter Magisters when we were in the Hinterlands. I do not think he knows I saw him, but…"

The dunmer observed Conall, the perfect picture of anxiousness. But Talia was neither stupid nor naïve. Apart from the fact that she'd heard straight from Conall's lips that he was working with the Elder One, the Lord Seeker would not have been so careless as to have spoken to these magisters in such a setting.

"To what end?" she asked.

"I do not know yet, but I intend to find out."

"This sounds like the most ridiculous thing I've heard, but there's something about you Conall," Talia said quietly and took her lie one step further by grasping his hand. "I trust you."

It was there for a split second before it vanished, but Talia had seen a glimmer of triumph in the templar's eyes before he relaxed. "Thank you, Herald."

"We must be careful when dealing with the Lord Seeker, then," she said. "What would you suggest?"

"I could convince the Lord Seeker to send me as the representative for the alliance, then we can talk of strategy while we are in Haven. And perhaps, other matters?" he asked hopefully and stroked Talia's hand gently as if to make a point.

Talia would have laughed in disgust if possible, but instead gave Conall a shy smile. "I'd like that, Ser Conall."

The templar beamed at her and as they said their farewells, left a chaste kiss on the dunmer's hand and Talia ducked her head in feigned embarrassment. She really did have to learn how to blush on command.

When they arrived back at their inn, Talia cast a muffle spell in her room before collapsing in her chair and running a hand down her face.

"I take it Conall had some interesting things to say?" Leliana ventured tentatively.

"He basically told me that he knew the Lord Seeker was working with the Elder One, and he seems to think that he could charm me into telling him Inquisition secrets."

"He…flirted with you?" The shock in Cassandra's tone could almost be insulting.

"And you flirted back, I assume?" Leliana smiled as she saw Talia's grimace.

The dunmer nodded. "Let him believe he has me eating out of his palm; so far he seems to think I'm rather taken with him." She scoffed in disgust. "Conall is a fairly handsome man, no doubt he is experienced in such matters."

"We don't really have an army out there, do we?" Cassandra interjected.

No doubt the woman thought she was being left out of the loop again, and Talia reassured her. "No, we don't Cassandra."

"Ah, a show of strength then?"

"In a manner of speaking," Talia explained. "I think that if they continued to believe Haven to be defenseless, the Lord Seeker would bring the entirety of the Templar Order and crush the Inquisition. If you noticed, they kept on asking about our non-existent army. My guess is that they were preparing to move under the orders of this Elder One. Fabricating information about our army has bought us time, hopefully enough time to ask the mages for help."

Cassandra hesitated. "Yesterday it was clear as water: the templars were working for the enemy. But then they propose an alliance. Is it possible that Conall is working independently?"

Leliana and Talia both shook their heads. "The evidence is overwhelming. Notice how all of them were aware of the existence of an Elder One? When Denam mentioned it, both Conall and the Lord Seeker tensed visibly. It's a matter of reading the signs they're sending out."

"But why would Conall sell out the Lord Seeker?"

"As a sign of trust." Leliana folded her arms. "By divulging this information to us, he is showing us that he trusts us, and is, in turn, 'trustworthy'."

"And what about what they said about Tevinters in the Hinterlands?" Cassandra wondered. "Do you think they were telling the truth?"

"I know they're telling the truth," Talia said with certainty. "To gain our trust, Conall had to give us information we could verify. Feeding us lies will come in later, when we speak further about the Inquisition."

"You'll have to act as the smitten woman. Will he be part of the retinue arriving to 'assess' the Inquisition?" Leliana tilted her head to the side.

"He said he would 'convince' the Lord Seeker to send him." Talia rubbed her forehead in annoyance. "At least this way, we can keep a close eye on him. Are we to visit Ferelden's King after we finish up here?"

"We'll stay in Haven for a day and head out the next, we have to make the most of the time we have left. We have yet to know what date Conall and the others will be arriving at Haven." Leliana said. "I'll be accompanying you; Alistair is an old friend, and he might be more receptive to you if we arrive together."

"Hopefully, matters do not complicate themselves further than they already are." Talia leaned back in her chair with a sigh.

"Matters are rarely simple when the Tevinters are involved," Cassandra said darkly. "What could they be doing in the Hinterlands?"

"And why hasn't this matter been reported to the crown?" Talia frowned.

"The rebel mages, if I recall correctly are stationed in Redcliffe, after Arl Teagan welcomed them with open arms."

"Are the Tevinters working with the rebel mages?" Cassandra scowled. "That's absurd! Grand Enchanter Fiona would not be foolish enough to ally herself with those scum."

Talia recalled what she'd read about the Tevinter Imperium. Conquerors, slavers, evil mages. Those were the three things constantly associated with the country, and Talia found it difficult to get her hands on a book that showed the nation in a less biased light. She was certain, of course, that the Imperium had done horrid things in the past, and continued to do so until now, but she would like to learn more about the place from someone who didn't utterly despise it.

"True, but we cannot discount the possibility," Leliana said. "But speaking of mages and potential allies, you have an invitation to have afternoon tea with Madame Vivienne de Fer at the Chateau of Duke Bastien de Ghislain."

Talia's eyebrow rose. "Afternoon tea? Isn’t that incredibly forward of her? We have yet to be acquainted and she's already inviting me to such an intimate gathering?"

Leliana smiled at her consternation. "I believe she wishes to speak with you in private. We did receive an invitation to her salon last night, however, I had to respond that the Herald needed to rest after such a long journey."

"I'm certain she took offense to that." Talia sighed. "But who is she and why does she wish to speak with me?"

"Madame de Fer is the First Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle of Magi. After the Circles fell, she became the leader of the loyalist mages. She is also the Enchanter at the Imperial Court, and the first to actually make use of the position," Leliana said.

"We have met a few times in Montsimmard and here in Val Royeaux, and my only impression of her is that she is a very shrewd politician," Cassandra commented.

"She is a very skilled player of the Grand Game," Leliana continued. "So much so that she's known across the court as the Iron Lady. My guess is that she wishes to offer her services to the Inquisition."

Ah, a woman who desires power, she could work with that.

"From what we know, Madame de Fer is pro-Circle, and thus, also pro-Chantry."

Then again, maybe not.

"Perfect," Talia replied sarcastically. "Do I even have a suitable attire for this event?"

"Why of course, Herald." The strange gleam in Leliana's eyes made her wary.

"My dear Lady Herald, I can't tell you how pleased I am that you'd decided to accept my invitation."

Vivienne de Fer turned out to be a slim, dark skinned woman, whose refined features reminded Talia of Countesses she'd met in Cyrodiil. She held an air of authority that the dunmer couldn't help but admire.

"Madame de Fer." Talia bowed slightly. "The pleasure is all mine."

Vivienne laughed lightly. "Call me, Vivienne, darling."

"Then I insist you call me Talia, Vivienne." She smiled politely. Talia followed the woman to her salon, and she silently admired the tasteful décor in the room. They settled at the balcony where a small meal with various pastries and a pot of tea were set.

"You have such a lovely dress my dear, I do believe I recognize that magnificent piece as Lavigne's?"

Leliana had dressed her in a white and gold dress that had more ruffles than her ancestor's robes. Talia was certain she looked like a court jester wearing such ostentatious Orlesian finery, but if Vivienne liked it, more points for her. She and Leliana should get together and throw a tea party, she thought sourly.

"You have a good eye for finery, Vivienne," Talia said, though she had no idea who or what Lavigne was. "I admit I have been wondering where you acquired your robes. I must say you look resplendent in them."

Vivienne's polite laugh reminded Talia so much of the many luncheons Ocato had forced her to attend. "Thank you my dear, that is a very kind thing to say."

Servants puttered around and served the food as Vivienne observed her. "I was quite miffed when you declined the invitation to my salon, however, after witnessing the display at the plaza, I understand why."

Talia inclined her head. "In truth, I had not expected Mother Hevara to be so antagonistic. To a certain extent yes, but not to the point of turning our meeting into such a public display and blatantly smearing the Inquisition's name. It's unbecoming of a Chantry cleric."

Vivienne tutted. "Quite true, my dear. But no worries; everybody knows the Revered Mother has been eyeing the position of Divine when Justinia perished—Maker rest her soul. I, however, am more interested in the Lord Seeker's proposal. It was a move none of us could ever have predicted."

Talia leaned back in her chair and inspected her tea before sipping it. "It was quite a shock, but the alliance has yet to be finalized, and we have a long way to go before we can truly call ourselves allies."

"You do not trust the templars?"

The dunmer traced the lip of her cup idly as she thought about her answer. "Their change of heart is suspicious, at the very least. But I understand that their help will be invaluable in closing the Breach and, consequently, bringing stability to Thedas."

"What is your end goal? It is widely speculated that the Inquisition will bring about the end of the Mage-Templar War. Will you be allowing the mages to reign freely?"

"A modicum of freedom, certainly," Talia said carefully. "But the templars are there for a reason. They are there to protect the mages; perhaps both sides need to be reminded of this fact."

Vivienne smiled, and Talia realized that there was a glimmer of approval in her eyes. "I have always believed that the mages should never have broken away from the Chantry. Fiona has been selfish in her campaigns to destroy the Circle of Magi." She shook her head in disgust. "Due to the conflict in Kirkwall, the fear of mages has spread so quickly, and her ideals have done nothing but fuel the flames."

It was a point of view Talia had never considered. She'd been so outraged at the idea of mages and magic being suppressed that she'd immediately supported the dissolving of the Circles. The people of Thedas had an unhealthy amount of distrust, anger and fear directed at the mages, and the Circles were supposed to protect the mages as much as the masses. However, the reality of it was that the Chantry abused the mages and made them feel dirty and unwanted.

"I confess, I did not invite you here just to exchange pleasantries."

Talia locked eyes with the woman and waited for her to continue.

"I find the Inquisition's goals and purposes, and you specifically, to be admirable. As leader of the last loyal mages, I wish to offer our services to the Inquisition."

Talia placed her cup on the saucer and dabbed her lips with her napkin as she considered what to say. Vivienne waited patiently for her reply, which the dunmer appreciated. "What is it that you can offer, Vivienne?"

"Loyal mages are always needed in Thedas. We have skilled healers to see to the wounded, battlemages to give the Inquisition the upper hand, scholars to do research and study whatever the Inquisition needs. And I," she added, "Am one of the best Knight-Enchanters in Thedas. As Imperial Enchanter, I also have the needed information and connections to give the Inquisition the boost it needs to achieve its goals."

Vivienne was capable yes, but could she trust her? Talia surveyed the woman in front of her and listed what she knew: she was a powerful mage, a Chantry-supporter, a Pro-Circle advocate, a ruthless player of the Grand Game and a needed resource.

Can she trust her? Likely not. But could she afford not to accept her offer?

Definitely not. Especially with the trouble brewing with the Templars. The Inquisition needed any and all allies they could get.

Talia kept quiet, long enough that Vivienne's eyes started to narrow, and the Herald of Andraste gave her a beaming smile. The momentary confusion on the woman's face was amusing.

"Welcome to the Inquisition, Madame de Fer."

Chapter Text

Talia was in front of the Lucky Old Lady Statue. The figure was pushed to the side, and the trap door beneath it was unlocked and swung open for everyone to see. Her fist clutched Bellamont's journal, and her mind raced at the implication of its existence—another traitor.

There was a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach as she descended the steps to Mother's crypt. The air was heavy with the smell of blood, and she slipped the familiar weight of the Blade of Woe into her right hand. She froze in her steps as she passed the bodies of people she recognized—her family. Arquen was the first, and though she held no love for her, Talia couldn't help but grimace at the sight. Her other Speakers and their Silencers, Jarah, Flavius, Keer-Das, Brynn… Talia raced down the remaining steps, uncaring of the noise she was making, as the one body she was looking for did not appear.

She slid to a stop as she reached the Mother's crypt, where a figure in black stood facing away from her. The dunmer's heart clenched as the man turned around, and the grip on her dagger slackened.

“Lukas?” Her voice broke at the sight. The man was cradling the Night Mother's body and was trailing a hand across her face. Her Speaker looked up at Talia slowly.

“Listener,” he said in that low tone that reminded her so much of Lucien. Talia swallowed thickly as she tried to find her voice.

“Why?”

Lukas looked away. “Bellamont was a fool, he had the chance to end it all, but he did not understand what needed to be done.”

Talia could not move. No, Lukas could not have done this...Lukas was loyal to the Night Mother, loyal to her.

“It was so easy to gain your trust,” he chuckled, and he casually tossed the Night Mother's corpse aside. Such disrespect, such arrogance; Talia could not associate any of these actions with Lukas.

“You killed them all,” she said tonelessly, and Lukas threw his head back and laughed, as if she'd told him the greatest joke of the century.

“Me? Not I, dear Listener...why, you did.”

Talia froze, her eyes going wide as he spoke.

“Not unlike the way you massacred your entire family.” Lukas started walking towards her slowly. “You remember their names, don't you? Gogron, Telaendril, Vicente, Antoinetta-Marie, Ocheeva, Teinaava, Mraaj'Dar?”

With a cry, Talia readied a spell in her hand. But with a manic grin, Lukas snapped his fingers, and the Night Mother's body was set aflame. As she stared in horror at the display, a feeling of wrongness settled around her, and made her blink in confusion.

Lukas was an archer, he had absolutely no talent in magic. He even had trouble with the most basic flame spell, and everybody knew how to cast that. As soon as she realized it, she glowered at the person in front of her, and it was then she noticed the cracks. Small crevices appeared on the fake-Lukas' face, and when it glowed green, his image flickered.

Talia attempted to push herself away as the image of a creature—a demon with a distorted face and thick black spines protruding from its back—appeared and latched on to her. The demon's face kept on flickering—it wore Lukas' face, then Lucien's, Martin's, Antoinetta Marie's, Gogron—

“WAKE UP,” a familiar voice boomed and echoed around the chamber, and Talia woke with a start. She gathered a spell into one hand and summoned a dagger in the other, and surveyed her room, breathing heavily.

What was that? Her mind raced even as she tried to calm herself, dissipating the spell and wrapping her arms around herself. Since she'd arrived in Thedas, she had not dreamt about anything, which was strange considering how often she relived Martin's and Lucien's deaths back home. She didn't notice it at first, with all the excitement and confusion her arrival had caused, not until the past few days, when bursts of green light invaded her dreams and woke her up. They never showed anything, but there was a familiar voice that kept on calling out, though she couldn't understand the words.

Until now.

She couldn't place the voice in her dream, but she knew that it was familiar at least. Why and how did he wake her up?

Still, she was quite certain that wherever her mind was, it wasn't Vaermina's realm. That creature—Talia could recall its distorted features and reaching spindles—was a demon, she just didn't know what kind. But why now? Her mind wasn't connected to the Fade before.

Talia looked down at her glowing hand. Did it have something to do with her mark? She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, anger adding to the multitude of emotions swirling in her head. How did she get into this entire mess? Why her again? Didn't she already do her part in saving the world?

Although she knew it was nothing but dreams, fear still wrapped around her, coiling into her heart and would not allow itself to be forgotten. Unable to wash away her anxiety, Talia pushed herself out of her bed and stepped out of her cottage. The bitter wind stung her eyes, and seeped into her bones, but being out of the small room made her feel calmer. There was something soothing about staring at the dark stretch of the horizon; the vast emptiness lulled her warring thoughts. She stayed there until the sun rose, emptying her mind and repairing her defenses piece by piece.

When her hands no longer shook, Talia decided to make her way to the training grounds. While there was no need for her to practice, she needed something to focus on, and the repetitive movements would at least allow her to empty her mind.

Inquisition soldiers saluted her when she arrived, and she dismissed them with a small smile and a nod. Cullen was already there overseeing their training, barking out commands and when he caught her eye, he acknowledged her with a nod, before going back to his work. Cassandra was on the far end of the grounds, massacring a dummy with her shield and longsword. She seemed more upset than usual, if the two other dummies on the ground were any indication. Perhaps it had something to do with Talia still not informing Josephine and Cullen about her being a thief despite saying she would. It simply didn't seem to be the right time, though she was sure Cassandra wouldn't be able to resist telling them in the near future.

The trek back to Haven had been awkward to say the least. Without anything urgent to discuss, Cassandra and Talia's rapport deteriorated into a frosty silence that could be felt all the way back to Mundus. The woman had obviously not forgotten their spat, and she alternated between glaring at Talia and glaring at the distance. This had continued all the way from Orlais to Haven, and Talia couldn't contain her sigh of relief when they finally arrived.

The surprises that Cullen and Josephine had sprung on her, however, were another matter.

Talia picked up a bunch of throwing knives from the basket and positioned herself as far away as she could from the target. She tested the knife's weight and after a few moments of deliberation, flung it forward. The knife hit the target, but was a few inches away from the center.

Her lips twisted into both a nostalgic and bitter smile as a memory came to her unbidden. When she was younger, it always upset her when her knives didn't hit the mark straight on. It was Ocheeva, motherly and wise Ocheeva, who had taught her that it was useless to be upset over these things when you could simply accept the minor failure and continue getting better. The Argonian had helped her out with training, until Talia's accuracy had improved immensely.

Telaendril and Gogron had had a betting pool going on if she would be able to defeat Ocheeva in a knife-throwing contest, and she remembered being incredibly offended when everyone in the sanctuary bet against her. Sadly, they were all right, and she'd lost, but it was a close thing.

They were her family, and she'd never felt more loved and accepted in her life than when she'd become a member of that sanctuary. Her throat tightened and a feeling of despair washed over her.

How could I have done that to them? They were my family, I loved them so much—

Talia was nearly panicking when she realized what was happening. She hadn't broken down in a while, and now was not the best time, or place for it to happen. Talia stood still and shut her eyes, emptying her mind. Suppressing it had never helped; she'd regret it later, when everything would come back to her even worse than it was now, but she didn't have any calming potions on hand, nor did she have the ingredients to create one in this world.

Clamping down on her thoughts, she shakily grabbed another knife and threw it, not surprised that it missed the mark completely. Talia didn't pay it any mind and continued throwing until her entire focus was on the blade, her movement, and the target. When she finally allowed herself to breathe, the target was littered with knives, and a few of them had fallen to the ground.

She breathed in heavily, carefully only thinking of Thedas, her current problems, the templars—

“Hey boss,” the voice from behind startled her and she only just managed not to hurl another knife at the offender, however, she did whirl around quickly to face him.

The Iron Bull blinked at her. “A little jumpy today, eh?”

Talia managed a small, albeit, still shaky laugh, and she cursed herself and that Sithis-forsaken dream. “Forgive me, there is much on my mind.”

The qunari and his band was one of the surprises that had waited for her when she arrived at camp. He seemed like a typical mercenary at first sight, with his large, hulking figure and equally large battleaxe, ubiquitous shirtlessness, and leather breeches. However, despite his appearance and easy-going attitude, Talia noticed that he observed her very carefully, but quickly enough for most people not to notice. When Cullen awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck during their debriefing, Talia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him until he blurted out that the Iron Bull was a spy for the Qunari.

It had taken all of Talia's patience and willpower not to strangle Cullen there and then. She'd managed not to voice her opinion on the matter too, which was a great feat in itself. Idiocy was not a strong enough word for what he and Josephine had done knowingly. Were they naive enough to believe the Bull when he said he would forward all his reports to them first before sending it out to his leaders? He's a spy. This should have been obvious, but it seemed she and Leliana were the only ones to think of it.

“It's understandable.” He rubbed his jaw, “You're the leader and all, of course you have a lot on your plate.”

While his presence should have heightened her anxiety, it gave her something else to focus on, and her mask was slowly, but firmly slipping back into its place. “Leader?” she echoed. “The Inquisition doesn't really have a leader. It’s a four-way split between me, Cullen, Leliana and Cassandra.”

The Bull gave her a small smile before looking over to where Cullen was teaching his men how to block properly. “Cullen seems like he was a fine templar before becoming Commander.”

The offhand comment was an attempt to fluster her, Talia knew, but she'd play along. “I suppose—wait, how did you know he was a templar?”

He pointed at Cullen and his shield. “Look at the way he angles his shield. Templars always carry their shield that way to block off any attacks from mages.”

“You managed to know he was a templar just from looking at his shield?” Talia tried to sound suitably impressed, and the Iron Bull grinned at her.

“You'll learn a lot about somebody just by watching them.” His tone implied something, and Talia crossed her arms and gave him a look. She already knew what he was trying to make her ask, and she allowed it.

“So what did you observe in the incredibly short amount of time we've met?”

“I see the way they all gravitate towards you. Leliana and Cassandra both look to you for instructions. Cullen defers to your judgment. Josephine asks your opinion for everything. The townspeople adore and respect you, and the Chantry sees you as the one person they need to remove for the Inquisition to crumble. But I know you already know all these things.”

Talia raised an eyebrow at him.

“You always speak on behalf of the Inquisition, and everything you do and say is measured carefully. You even walk ahead of people, and you expect and know that they will follow you. You know you're the boss, but when someone points it out, you try to act oblivious to it.”

The Bull said all this nonchalantly, but Talia could see that he was observing her, waiting for a reaction. It didn't take a genius to notice what he did, but Talia was impressed nonetheless, seeing as he'd only interacted with her for less than a day.

The corner of Talia's lips twitched upwards into a faint smile. “I suppose you'd be a pretty bad spy if you weren't observant.”

The Bull shrugged. It didn't surprise him that she already knew. “Ben-Hassrath training.”

“Why tell us you're a spy in the first place? Doesn't that defeat the purpose?” She already had her guesses. Similarly to how Conall had volunteered information about the Lord Seeker and the Tevinters, the Bull was trying to win them over by being 'truthful'. Well, it didn't work for Conall, and it won't ever work for the Bull.

“Nah.” He waved his hand. “Makes my job easier, don't have to hide anything from you guys, and they get their reports. Everybody's happy.”

I'm not, Talia thought sourly.

“Anyway,” he digressed. “Saw you killing that dummy. Want to get all that aggression out? I'm looking for a sparring partner. What d'you say?”

Talia observed him as he looked at her expectantly, grinning widely as if in excitement. There would only be one reason he'd be asking to spar with her—to find out her fighting style, and consequently, any weaknesses he could exploit in the future.

So she gave him an apologetic smile. “I don't feel like sparring right now though, maybe some other time.”

The Bull looked disappointed, but he recovered. “Well, as long as there's a next time.”

Talia nodded and half-turned, making her exit, when The Bull spoke again. “There was another thing I wanted to ask,” he said, and Talia closed her eyes in annoyance briefly before looking back at him with a neutral expression.

“Yes?”

“I heard that you're part qunari. Was it your mother or father that was the Tal-Vashoth?”

Tal-Vashoth. She'd heard about that term before. Qunari that turned away from the Qun. “It was my mother,” she lied.

“And your dad was the elf eh? Strange combination, but I'm not about to judge,” he commented.

“I know,” Talia said simply. “Was that all you wanted to ask?”

“Yeah.” The Bull nodded slowly.

“I'll see you around then.” She turned, but paused in her steps when the Bull spoke again.

“Did you know,” he said casually, as if he were discussing the weather. “That qunari can't procreate with other races?”

He knows, Talia thought. So that was the reason the Qunari sent the Bull to observe her. They wanted to know who she was, what she was. They were determining if she was a threat.

“Well,” she replied after some time. “I must be a miracle child then.” Without another word, she strode away, leaving the Iron Bull with his thoughts and observations. He was dangerous, very dangerous. Talia would have to be extra careful around him.

Deciding that the Iron Bull was enough social interaction for the day, Talia holed herself in her cottage. The clamp which she'd placed on her memories was slowly straining, and every so often a tendril would reach out, and her heart would seize, or her eyes would sting with tears. And when she could not suppress them anymore, the dam broke.

Horror, guilt and despair seized her heart and refused to let go. Talia stumbled onto her bed, brought her knees to her chest, and buried her face in her hands.

You...I...Lucien, they're my family. You can't expect me to—

You will address me as Speaker, assassin. The Black Hand has already spoken. Are you not a loyal servant of Sithis?

Her mouth was dry, her eyes were hot.

His face was stern, his eyes were dead.

I live to serve.

Antoinetta Marie didn't even think twice about eating the apple.

Ocheeva eagerly handed over her knives.

Gogron decided it was a good time to get out of his armor to clean it.

Teinaava slept soundly for a murderer.

M'raaj-Dar taught her a spell that killed painlessly.

Telaendril rested peacefully, her neck at an odd angle.

Vicente gave her a look of pure understanding, spreading his arms in a show of love and surrender.

She was like the Void; numb and unfeeling. Only after the task was done, when their bodies were strewn across their home, now their tomb, did everything come crashing down. It was not gentle—it did not come slowly.

She felt as if a thousand knives were run through her body, but believed she'd deserved more. Her throat was raw from crying, from screaming their names, from pleading—asking for forgiveness from bodies that had already gone to the Void. She was soaked in their blood, and no matter how much she'd wash, how hard she'd scrub, the stain could never be removed.

Every sob that tore from her throat echoed in the emptiness of their tomb. They were supposed to be safe there—it was their sanctuary. Becoming their executioner was the last thing she wanted to be.

But how? How could she have denied Lucien? Denied the Black Hand? Denied Mother?

A loud knock on her door interrupted her train of thought, before she could shout at the intruder, tell them to leave her alone for once in their lives, the door was thrown open, and Varric entered, carrying food.

Talia froze, very aware of her disheveled state, the tears flowing freely, the red marks across her arms where she'd dragged her nails—

Varric wasn’t looking at her when he entered. “Andraste's ass! If you don't haul yourself to the mess one of these days, I swear, I'll drag you there by your pointy ears.” He shut the door and turned to her, only to pause in shock.

“Varric…” Her voice was hoarse, and pleading—pleading for what, she didn't know. Her humiliation was complete, she shouldn't have been seen in such state. She was weak, pathetic; how could she lead when she was like this? More tears leaked from her eyes, and she hid her face in her hands.

There was the clinking of plates and mugs being set aside. She felt her furs dip, and a warm hand was gingerly placed on her knee.

“What happened?” Varric asked, his voice low, but surprisingly free of pity or disgust.

“I'm,” she whispered shakily. “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry for what, sweetheart? You didn't do anything wrong,” he said soothingly, and his hand transferred onto her back and he rubbed lightly.

“I'm so tired, Varric,” she said wearily. “I can't do this anymore.”

“I know you are, Rubes. You should be able to rest and forget about this entire Herald of Andraste business. You don't owe them anything.”

“It's my fault, but I couldn't—there was nothing I could do, you have to believe me,” she said desperately, clutching at the dwarf's arms like a lifeline. Martin used to be there for her—but he was gone as well, wasn't he?

“Hey, hey, I believe you,” he sounded bemused, but still reassuring, and after some hesitation, he gently pulled her into a hug.

How long had it been since she was comforted in any manner? Lukas was the only one, and she hadn't seen him for months. Varric was warm, and in his arms, she felt safe. Lucien couldn't give her orders anymore; she was far away from him.

“Fucking Lucien,” she murmured viciously against Varric's coat, and she felt the dwarf tense slightly, but seemed to force himself to relax. “This is all his fucking fault. How could he—?” She shuddered, but no more tears seemed to want fall.

“Yeah,” Varric muttered back. “Fuck that Lucien guy. What an asshole,” he agreed, and Talia couldn't help the watery chuckle that escaped her.

She'd never broken down in front of anyone but Lukas before, she was so caught up in acting strong, that she'd almost forgotten just how weak she really was. The Oblivion Crisis had left her with so many scars both physical and emotional that would not go away no matter how hard she tried. The memories always lay lurking behind her, and Talia couldn't stop them from suddenly taking over her mind. Sometimes they would be triggered by words, or object, but on rare occasions, they would spring on her without warning. The pain and the cold were chased away by Varric's firm embrace, and Talia allowed herself, just this once, to rely on someone who wasn't herself.

“Varric,” she murmured, already feeling her eyes drooping. She was tired...so very tired.

“Yeah?”

The panic had passed, but the pain was still there. “Tell me a story, please?”

The grip on her shifted but still remained steadfast and warm. “I can do that,” his voice was calming as he started telling. “Have I ever told that time when me and Hawke went to the Bone Pit to figure out what was happening and ended up having to fight a high dragon? That was probably the hairiest fight I've ever been in. Luckily, we were with Blondie and Broody, though I could have fed them to the dragon with how loudly they were arguing. So, Hawke and I were standing there talking...”

Varric's low voice lulled her to sleep, and another, different, but still familiar voice spoke.

“Sleep, I will keep them at bay.”

And when she slipped into the Fade, it was the Void, black and quiet, and she slept in peace.

When she woke, alone, it took a moment before everything that happened crashed back down, and Talia groaned in mortification. It was bad enough that she'd regressed, but for it to have been witnessed? She'd bet her dagger that Bull also noticed the beginnings of her breakdown in the training grounds, and she could hit herself for being so foolish. She knew Varric would never tell, he was too thoughtful to do anything as vicious, but it didn't make the idea any less uncomfortable.

Talia splashed water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She still looked tired, but didn't look half-crazy as she was sure she did earlier. It was early evening, and Talia realized that Varric must have asked the others to give her time to rest. The dwarf really was too considerate for his own good. She grimaced at imagining his reaction if he ever found out just why she had gone half-mad.

There must be a way to rid herself of this burden, but she already knew the answer to that question. They said that time healed all wounds, but it had been two years, and the guilt did not lessen, nor did the memories fade into nothingness. They haunted her constantly, and sleeping was always a battle she consistently lost. But she deserved it—this sorrow, this guilt; this was her atonement for killing her family.

But once again, she'd wallowed in self-pity enough; she still had a job to do.

With a sigh, Talia turned away from the washbasin and dug through her pack for her Black Hand robes. From their discussion yesterday, Leliana had mentioned that Korrim was being held in one of the empty cabins instead of the cells, drugged and tied up, since she didn't want word to spread that an agent had betrayed them. Talia never told the woman when she planned on speaking with Korrim, and Leliana never asked. It suited her interests; she didn't want their questions when she got around to actually torturing the man.

She slipped on her Black Hand robes and gathered her magicka. It was highly likely that someone would see her leave the room, and she would need to make sure everyone thought she was back in the cabin. Talia stepped out of her cabin, and quietly cast two spells: an area-wide Illusion spell—one that would have them see her walk towards the training grounds, and an Invisibility spell on herself. While she had a masterful grasp of Destruction, Illusion had always been her area of expertise, and she allowed herself a small smile when the people are the area nodded their greetings at the figure only they could see.

It was a moonless night, and Talia stuck to the shadows as she silently made her way to where Korrim was held. She bit back a curse when she saw a few mages in the area. She had planned to cast another area-wide illusion spell, but she remembered that while her magic was different, the mages and templars could still sense it to some extent. Still invisible, Talia crept up to the door of Korrim's cabin and rapped on it. The guards on either side glanced at each other sharply and tensed. When they did nothing, Talia knocked louder, and the guards threw an annoyed look at each other before thudding their fists against the door.

“Oy! Shut the hell up in there!” One of them called out in irritation.

Talia took the opportunity to bang on the door louder, and as she predicted, the two guards growled and threw the door open. She smirked to herself as she slipped inside quietly, as the guards roughed up Korrim.

“You think that was funny?” one of them hissed, and Korrim looked back at them in confusion and defiance. He was gagged, so Talia knew the guards weren't truly waiting for an answer. They slapped the side of his head before shaking their heads in disgust.

As they locked the door behind them, Talia took the time to observe Korrim. The man had been kept there for days—his shoulder-length hair was dirty and unkempt, his face smeared with dust and soot, and his clothes stained with blood and oil. He looked sleep deprived and weary—the bravado he showed in front of the guards slipping away as soon as they left. Talia cast a muffling spell before she dispelled the invisibility.

“So,” she said softly and Korrim started so badly that he almost toppled his chair. “You're the traitor.”

Korrim watched her with wariness, and—she noticed with glee—a touch of fear. Her Black Hand robes were appropriate for the situation, and she knew that it made her appear more mysterious and dangerous. She reached out and pulled the gag from the man's mouth, and was not surprised when he coughed.

“Who—?” he rasped, and Talia pulled back her hood slowly. The fear in his eyes disappeared when he saw who it was, probably thinking she was who she portrayed—a naive, kind, and merciful woman. He would soon find out how wrong he was.

“Your Worship,” he said neutrally and respectfully, as if it would help his case, and Talia decided to play along.

“Korrim, right?” she asked as she pulled up a chair and took a seat in front of him.

“Yes, Your Worship. If I may ask—how did you get in here?”

“The guards let me in of course.” Talia cocked her head to the side. “Are you feeling all right?”

“I—yes. Perhaps one too many hits on the head.”

Talia leaned forward and passed her hand over his head, healing his superficial wounds. When her hand glowed, his eyes grew impossibly wide.

“Th-thank you. But...you're...a mage my lady?”

Talia simply gave him a smile before leaning back. “I would like to hear your side of the story, Korrim. I'm not in the habit of detaining people when there isn't any proof.”

Korrim looked supremely relieved at her statement, and Talia knew that he thought he had a chance to manipulate her.

“Why do they suspect you? They said you were passing information to the enemy?”

“I—I would never do that, Your Worship. I've been Sister Nightingale's most trusted informant, we've known each other a very long time.” He licked his lips nervously, and Talia cast a calm spell on the man, ensuring that he would feel safe with her. His shoulders relaxed. “I only want to save my family. This Breach is a frightening herald of things to come—I just...want them safe.”

His posture, the shining of his eyes told her that at least his last statement was true. Talia already knew this from Leliana's dossier on him, but it was better to have him confess it to her.

“You have a wife and child?” she asked softly, in gentle tones, and she cast another calm spell, creating an illusion of safety.

“Yes, Your Worship. My daughter...is only five. I don't want her dreams to be crushed because of this entire tragedy.”

“Perhaps,” Talia said coldly. “You should have thought about that before betraying me.” Blood seeped from his face, his face frozen in a picture of fear as he realized what she said.

Talia smirked as she subtly cast another spell to heighten his anxiety gradually.

“Did Leliana ever tell you just who found out you've been passing information to the Templars?” she said in feigned nonchalance. When he didn't speak, she leaned forward, placing her hands on the arm rests of his chair.

“It was me, my dear boy. And I do not take kindly to those who betray me.” She finished dangerously.

He remained stubbornly quiet, and Talia pushed herself away and paced around the room. “So why do it, Korrim? Did they offer you money? A better life for you and your family?” she sat back down on the chair in front of the man. “Or did they threaten to kill your family?”

Korrim tensed, and Talia's lips widened into a predator's grin. “You don't know what I'm capable of, Korrim.” She toyed with her dagger, and saw that Korrim's eyes followed its every movement. “How do you think I hid being a mage all this time?” She smiled. “I suggest that now is the best time to tell me what you know.”

He looked into her eyes and his jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

Talia gave a mournful sigh. “Such stubbornness. I suppose the life of your wife and child really do mean nothing to you.”

The man paled as she spoke, and he growled. “You can't touch them! The Templars have people watching. If you attack them—,”

She interrupted him with a cold laugh. “Do you really think that a few templars can stop me?” She loomed over him, looking straight into his eyes as she cast a more potent fear spell. “I know a hundred ways to kill a man, but more than that, I know a thousand ways to hurt people without killing them.”

Korrim's fear was palpable. “You wouldn't.”

“And what would you know about what I would and wouldn't do?” she asked in amusement. “Your daughter, she's very beautiful isn't she? Your pride and joy. You can listen in while I drag this knife down her abdomen, I'm sure her screams would sound absolutely delightful.”

The man was now struggling against his restraints, anxiety and anger mixing as he listened to her. Talia knew that for him to break, she had to keep pushing. Removing that wrath and replacing it with more fear would be the key. “Nothing I couldn't heal of course. Slavers generally won't pay for broken goods.” She smiled dangerously as Korrim started shouting obscenities.

Talia closed her eyes and gathered memories; a little girl in Kvatch—she cried and screamed for her father, but he never came, and it had been up to her to save her. She projected the illusion into Korrim's mind, a little girl being tortured, screaming for him. In his confused state, Talia was certain he would see his daughter. When she finished casting her spell, Talia sat back down and watched him.

She felt nothing as she watched his face crumple, the picture of helplessness and misery. He shouted until his voice broke; he pleaded for her to stop, but Talia didn't, and she let the spell run its course. When it was done, the man was a sobbing mess, and Talia knew that she'd succeeded.

As she was about to continue, she heard voices outside and cursed when she recognized Leliana's. She cast a sleep spell on Korrim, kicked the chair back to the side of the room and enveloped herself in invisibility.

When Leliana stepped into the cabin, she narrowed her eyes at Korrim before looking back at the two guards who were on duty.

“Who took off his gag?”

The guards shrugged at each other. “No one, ma'am.”

Leliana, as the smart woman that she was, surveyed the room, and her eyes passed over Talia, who had situated herself in a corner near the door.

“Leave us,” she instructed the guards. They saluted, and when they opened the door, Talia took the opportunity to slip out as well. While she wasn't able to pry anything out of Korrim, she was certain Leliana would find the man to be more pliant now. She found a dark alcove and shrugged out of her Black Hand robes, gathered them into her arms and strolled back to her cabin. She stowed it back into her pack before walking back out.

They were leaving for Denerim in the morning, but with how long Talia had slept, going back to rest seemed incredibly unappealing. She caught sight of Solas and Varric by the fire, and she almost turned around and walked away, except that the dwarf had seen her and waved her over. Varric wasn't good at hiding his concern, but Solas was thankfully looking at her and not at him.

“It's been a while.” Solas gave her a gentle smile as she approached them. “How have you been? Have you finally grown accustomed to being called Herald of Andraste?”

Talia chuckled, and Varric shot her a look that she ignored. “I would still prefer to be called Talia, but I think their hearts won't be able to take it.”

“The faithful would die of shock. 'Gasp, she asked me to call her by her name?' Oh, how I swoon!'” Varric commented. He gave her another meaningful glance when Solas wasn't looking, and Talia was resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to just let it go.

“I have to speak with Varric, Solas. We'll just be a moment.” She flashed Solas a smile and dragged Varric to a relatively secluded area. For a moment, neither of them spoke, and awkwardness radiated from them both.

“So...” Varric said and he bounced on his feet uncomfortably.

“What are the chances of you simply forgetting about what happened?” Talia asked, half-serious.

“Not likely, Rubes.” Varric crossed his arms.

She looked away, unsure of what to say. Sighing, Varric reached over and patted her on the arm, Talia starting at the light touch.

“Look, I don't have any idea what happened to you Rubes. And I won't ask for an explanation. I realize it's really none of my business, but I just—,” He gave a frustrated sigh. “Seeing you in that state is difficult, and I'm not entirely sure what to do—,”

“I appreciate it, Varric, I really do. But it's not your job, nor anyone else's to look after me—,”

“Well someone has to!” Varric's outburst caught her by surprise, and she blinked at him. “You have too much to do to worry about yourself and your state of being. You always have this Herald of Andraste persona around you that you turn on when there's somebody around. I saw something that isn't that, and it—,” He looked like he could tear his hair off, and Talia resisted the urge to smile.

“My point is,” he continued. “I consider you a friend, hopefully a close friend someday, when you trust me enough to let your guard down.”

Talia, despite herself, felt her throat constrict, touched by Varric's words. “You are my friend, Varric,” she said quietly. “Probably the only friend I have in this world,” she placed her hand on Varric's and gave him a small, but genuine smile. “Thank you, for taking care of me last night.”

Varric coughed uncomfortably and he flushed, and Talia grinned at how flustered he was. “Well, I—uh—you're welcome. Andraste's tits, this is the reason I don't give heart to heart talks,” he muttered.

“I'm not a fan of them either,” she said solemnly, then added, “But you started it anyway.”

Varric let out a bark of laughter. “I did, didn't I?”

Raised voices could be heard, and the two shared a look before making their way to the front gates. Talia could see that the Iron Bull was there, as well as Cullen and Cassandra. Four guards were manhandling a dark-skinned male—a mage by presence of his staff—and were dragging him towards the entrance.

“Unhand me, you cretins! I come here in peace, and this is the treatment I receive?” the man had an accent Talia hadn't heard yet. Perhaps he was from another country?

The guard behind him snorted. “In peace? We know your kind, Magister—,”

“What is going on here?” Talia cut in authoritatively, and the guards immediately straightened and saluted.

“Your Worship! We found this mage skulking around Haven—,”

“For goodness' sake, man! I was not skulking. I came here in hopes that I would be able to speak to the Herald of Andraste. I have information for her that I am certain you would be interested in.”

“A likely story! We—,”

“Release him,” Talia ordered, and the guards blinked at her. She narrowed her eyes, and for fear of her wrath, they cut his bindings, returned his staff quickly and pushed him towards her.

The man brushed and straightened his robes. “Well, got myself a taste of Fereldan hospitality. If this is how you treat your guests, I worry how you treat any of your prisoners.”

Talia raised an eyebrow. “You are?”

“A Vint,” the Bull grunted as he stepped forward, looming over the mage. “I've seen your kind around before. Altus?”

“Well—I—yes. Dorian of the House Pavus, recently of Minrathous.” He bowed with a flourish of robes. The greeting sounded so much like Dunmeri ones that she'd almost responded in kind.

“Talia Indoril.” She gestured to the side to let him in, and Cassandra and Cullen all immediately protested.

“Herald—”

“Talia—”

She silenced them with a look, and Dorian looked suitably impressed as he stepped forward.

“You said you had information for us,” she prompted.

Dorian nodded and reached into his robes. All three—the Seeker, Commander and the Bull—tensed, and the mage noticed. “Oh honestly.” He retrieved a piece of parchment. “I am not about to blow up the entire Inquisition with my wily blood magicky ways.” He wiggled his fingers, and Talia suppressed a grin as the Bull’s gaze narrowed further. He turned back to Talia and said seriously. “I have information on the Tevinter group that has taken over Redcliffe.”

The dunmer frowned, worried that this was another agent trying to mislead her. “And how can we trust your information to be true?”

“It is natural that you would not believe me. My former mentor, Gereon Alexius, along with several other Tevinter mages, were sent here to Ferelden to sway the free mages to their cause. They call themselves the Venatori.”

“The Venatori?” Cassandra spoke up. “What do they want?”

“Did they succeed in recruiting the mages?” Talia interrupted. They were in trouble, Conall's information had turned out to be more accurate than she'd thought. She'd believed that if they were in trouble with the templars, they could recruit the rebel mages, but if they were already working for the enemy…

Dorian twirled his moustache. “Partly. Grand Enchanter Fiona couldn't be swayed, some of the other mages, however could. The Arl of Redcliffe has opened his castle to the remaining loyal mages, and those who have joined the Venatori are devising ways to lay siege to his castle.” He handed over the parchment to Talia. “This is a letter from Alexius, seeking your help in exchange for information.”

“Our help? Surely you must be joking,” Cullen said incredulously.

“His son was taken hostage by the rebel mages, and there is nothing more important in the world to Alexius than Felix,” he explained. “He would have wanted to come here himself, but he didn't want the Venatori to suspect anything.”

“We need to know he actually has information before agreeing to help him—,”

Cullen and Cassandra immediately reacted.

“You can't be considering this!”

“This is madness, Talia!”

She raised her hand to stop them from speaking. “Well?” she gestured to Dorian, who simply smiled.

“Have you ever heard of the Elder One?”

“We have,” Leliana, who seemed to have come out of nowhere, answered. “Do you have any information on him?”

“Alexius does, but he's given me one thing that you can start looking into. But I must have your word, that you will aid him.”

It was risky, could Dorian be telling the truth? And what if this Alexius didn't actually have information? What if they were being played for fools? But perhaps...she looked over to the Bull.

“So what do you think, The Iron Bull?” Talia asked, and his eye swiveled towards her. “Is Dorian telling the truth?”

The Bull was silent for a moment before squinting. “He is…surprisingly.”

Dorian looked distinctly ruffled at Bull's comments, and Talia bit back an amused grin. “Very well, Dorian. Let's hear what you have to say.”

“I have the Elder One's name,” he said, and Talia's eyes widened.

The entire group looked at Dorian expectantly and after a brief, and tense silence, he spoke.

“Corypheus—,”

“What? No!” Of all the people Talia thought would react to that statement, Varric was not one of them. His face grew ashen, and he looked horrified. “That's not possible!”

“Why? Who is he?” Talia frowned.

Dorian looked affronted. “I assure you, I am not lying. His name may be a bit strange, but—,”

“I'm not saying his name is funny! I'm saying it can't be him 'cause he's dead! Hawke and I already killed him!”

“Well, I assure you, he is quite alive—,”

Talia felt a headache coming and she gestured for all of them to be silent. “Let's head to the war room and discuss this new development.” She started walking away towards the Chantry, the rest of them on her heels. She paused once, to look over her shoulder and say,

“Welcome to the Inquisition, Dorian Pavus. I hope you're worth all this trouble.”

Dorian scoffed and flicked imaginary dust off his robes. “I am more than worth it,” he sniffed.

Well, Talia thought. Perhaps the Maker was actually Sheogorath. It would explain why the world was mad.

Although, perhaps, she was the one growing mad instead.

Chapter Text

Talia stared at the map of Redcliffe as if it contained the answers to their dilemma. After Dorian's confession, the lot of them had holed up in their makeshift war room in the Chantry discussing his information, along with the surprising revelation that Varric apparently knew who this Corypheus was.

If it was the same man, and Varric vehemently denied that it was possible, he was one of the Tevinter mages who had set foot in the Fade and had inadvertently caused the First Blight. Talia was disgruntled at the idea that the Chant of Light had actually gotten something right for once.

What was more troubling was what he was capable of; Varric confirmed that he could influence the minds of Wardens and could command hordes of darkspawn. Talia and Leliana shared a meaningful look when this was revealed; this could be the reason the Grey Wardens had disappeared, but if they were working for Corypheus, did that mean the Dragonborn was also a part of it?

Sadly, Dorian knew next to nothing about Corypheus; if they were going to get information, it would have to be taken from Alexius himself. Talia noticed that Dorian was holding back something, not directly related to Corypheus, but about Alexius. She didn't know what it was, but she was going to pry it out of him later after resolving more pressing matters.

They were attempting to figure out a plan of action. Unfortunately, there were too many factors to be considered, and too few trusted people to get the job done. The fact of the matter was, she was needed in all three places: Redcliffe to deal with the Venatori, Haven to handle Conall and the Templars, and Denerim to discuss the situation with Ferelden's King.

“You can't be in three places at once,” Cassandra said, and Talia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and give a scathing remark about her observation skills.

“I know,” she said neutrally. “What we do need to know is to assess where I should be.”

It was Josephine who spoke up first. “Securing your position as an ally of Ferelden is too valuable for you to be placed anywhere else. We can inform them of the development in Redcliffe, and help them drive out the Tevinters afterward.”

“Alexius needs you specifically. I doubt the mages would be willing to negotiate for Felix's life unless the famed Herald of Andraste was there,” Dorian pointed out.

“I think the Herald should stay in Haven. The templars will look for you when they arrive, and they will be upset that they were sent to negotiate the alliance only to find that you aren't here.”

“I agree with the Commander.” Cassandra nodded. “The templars are too dangerous to be allowed to dally around in Haven unsupervised.”

“I think Talia should be with the team helping the mages. Gaining the support of the mages is important if we want a force that can defend Haven against the inevitable attack of the templars.” Leliana crossed her arms. “But I think we can all agree that the decision is up to you, Herald.”

All eyes turned to Talia, and she resisted the urge to sigh. Bull was right, even if nobody said she was the leader, they kept on forcing her into situations where she had to make decisions for the Inquisition.

“What do you think?” She turned to the others. Apart from Dorian and Varric, the Iron Bull, and Solas were both present in the meeting as well, and Leliana had given them a rundown of what happened. Talia wasn't so sure that they had to be included in the discussion, but the decision had been taken out of her hands.

Solas leaned back as he considered his answer. “There is a greater likelihood of success should the Herald accompany us to speak with the mages. If the templars have truly gone rogue and have sided with this Corypheus, securing their aid would be more valuable than attending luncheons with the King of Ferelden.”

“I think the boss should go to Redcliffe,” Bull grunted. “Not a lot we know about it, and seems more important than meeting with the King or doing damage control here.”

“Varric?” she asked when the dwarf remained silent.

“Shit, I don't know, Rubes.” He dragged a hand down his face. He looked terribly anxious, but she couldn’t blame him. If she were in his place, and she’d just learned there a chance a dangerous man they'd killed was somehow still alive, she would have been in a horrible mood as well. “Maybe you should stay here. I can't believe I agree with Seeker on something, but she's right. They will look for you, and I don't want to know what they're gonna do if they don't find you here.”

Talia tapped her lips in thought. It was true that she did need to handle Conall, since she was the least likely to mess that up, but getting the mages to agree to an alliance was more important. She just needed to figure out which of their people should go where.

Her crew looked at her expectantly, and she nodded decisively. “I'm going to Redcliffe.”

Cassandra looked ready to argue, but she held back and acknowledged her decision. “Who will be coming with you?”

“We can decide that later, when we're establishing a plan to get in and stop the Venatori. Josephine,” she said, and the woman looked up from her notes. “I'm sending you to speak to the King on the Inquisition's behalf. You're our ambassador, and I know you can handle it without my being there. I'll send a letter explaining the situation in addition to that. Hopefully it'll be enough not to offend him.”

Josephine inclined her head. “Of course, Herald.” And she scribbled away on her vellum.

 “Bull.”

“Yeah boss?”

“I want the Chargers to escort Josephine to Denerim. I don't want her getting harmed, and I know our enemies will try to send assassins after us. And I want you there with her, Varric.”

“What?” He seemed to have snapped out of his thoughts. “Why?”

“Out of all of us, save for Leliana, you're the only one who's met the King of Ferelden. And I think you're the best back-up Josephine could get.” She'd seen Varric's persuasion prowess before, and she knew he'd be able to help her.

Varric pursed his lips, but didn't argue with her.

“As much as I would like to come,” Leliana said. “I believe it best for me and Cullen to stay here in Haven. It would look too suspicious to the Templars if all of us were away from Haven. You as well, Cassandra.”

“What? No!”

“Cassandra, be reasonable,” Leliana said patiently. “Apart from the fact that the templars will look for both Hands of the Divine, the mages will likely react negatively to your presence.”

At Cassandra's severe glare, Talia mediated between the two. “Let's discuss it later. Bull, I want you here at Haven. Put your Ben-Hassrath skills to work. I want you to report anything and everything to Leliana.”

“You got it, boss.” He gave her an informal salute.

“Conall Selbrech and his party will be arriving in Haven soon, at a guess sometime in the next five days. Lady Vivienne will be arriving earlier, I want her apprised of what's happening and how it's going to be dealt with. She will be bringing mages with her; try and shelter them from Conall as much as you can.”

“Of course, Herald.” Leliana said.

“As for the entire business in Redcliffe,” Talia turned her head towards Dorian. “Please supply us with everything you know.”

Dorian stood from his chair gracefully, a move Talia was certain he'd spent practicing in his youth. “As I've said earlier, the Venatori entered the Hinterlands about a month ago, and had only seized control of Redcliffe perhaps a week ago. Alexius and his partner, another Altus named Druella Cassius, along with initially around thirty Venatori, spoke to the Arl and the Grand Enchanter about letting Tevinter aid them.”

“I'm surprised Arl Teagan even allowed them into Redcliffe,” Josephine frowned.

“They didn't really ask,” Dorian commented flippantly. “But moving on, even though the Grand Enchanter refused the deal, a great many mages were swayed. After being oppressed, they found the idea of being free incredibly welcome.”

“Oppressed?” Cullen bristled at the insult. “The templars were only doing their duty. They were treated well—”

“Which was why they rebelled, I'm sure,” Dorian retorted smoothly.

“What happened next?” Talia interjected before the two could speak any further.

“Some of the mages that had defected to the Venatori tried to kidnap the Grand Enchanter. They caught all of them by surprise, and they killed some of the other loyal southern mages. Felix, the noble idiot that he was, saved the Grand Enchanter, and was rewarded by being held captive as they sealed the castle. Druella gave the ultimatum that they will be laying siege to the castle and kill anyone who doesn't turn to them. Alexius is trying to stall her since Felix is still there. Obviously, it's going nowhere, since he got in touch with me and all but begged me to take this letter to you.” He brushed imaginary dust from his robes, and Talia knew now that he did it when he felt uncomfortable. “He spent a lot of time and resources tracking me down. He was lucky I was already in the Hinterlands in the first place.”

“Does Alexius have any mages that are loyal to him and not the Venatori?”

Dorian twirled his moustache thoughtfully. “A few, I suppose. But not too many.”

“A few is enough. What about the state of entry?”

“My scouts have reported that the gates to Redcliffe are sealed,” Leliana said. “They're trying to hide the presence of the Tevinters by controlling whom to let in and not.”

“And whom exactly do they let in and not?” Cullen asked.

“Those carting in food and other supplies. Other than that, nobody else.”

Talia rubbed her chin as a plan slowly started to form in her mind. “Say we could get someone past the gates, how would they get into and out of the castle?”

“There's a passage,” Leliana said. “It leads from the windmills in the village down to the castle dungeons. You have a plan?”

“Not really. If we could get someone past the gates, they could get into the castle, speak with Fiona and smuggle Felix out.”

Cullen looked over the map of Redcliffe. “We could send some of our men, not all of them, but a sizeable number to surprise them with an attack at the north and south gates. Our infiltrator, whoever that would be, should be able to open the gates and let them in.

The idea had merit. “The guards near the entrance have to be distracted by something...something big and loud.”

“If Alexius is serious about this, we can send him a message, dropped by our infiltrator. He can ensure that at a certain time, the guards will be gone, allowing someone with enough skill to scale the walls and open the gate in the north, while the initial infiltrator opens the gate in the south,” Cullen continued.

“Sera will be our infiltrator. She's a nobody, and she'll blend in easily,” Talia said. Yes, even though Sera had a huge mouth and loud voice, she knew how to get into places quietly. “As for the second one, it has to be me.”

Cullen gave her a shrewd look. “You have experience?”

“Oh yes, quite a lot,” came the bitter remark from Cassandra.

“This is irrelevant, but what Cassandra is trying to say is that I am thief.” She looked all of them in the eyes coolly. “Will this be a problem?” Her tone was unmistakable, and she could see that Cullen, born with a soldier's instincts, stood straighter.

“Nope, I’m good,” Bull said quickly, while Solas merely inclined his head. Dorian looked at her in interest but shook his head.

“Cullen?” she prompted when he didn’t say anything.

The Commander gritted his teeth, but said, “We’ll revisit this later, for now, let’s focus on what’s to come.”

When no one else spoke, Talia continued. “After I get in, I think it would be best for me to get Felix out before we open the gates to launch the assault.” She turned to the map and traced the roads with a finger. “We can have one of our agents pick up Felix here, by the small side gate just before we launch our assault.”

“Hey boss, I'd like to suggest something.”

Talia looked up to see that Bull had leaned forward in his seat. “Go ahead, Bull.”

“You should get Cassandra to escort the Vint out of Redcliffe.” He jerked his head towards the Seeker, and Talia saw that even the woman was surprised at Bull's suggestion.

“Why's that?”

“Eh, no offense to the Altus over there,” he said, and Talia saw that Dorian was immediately offended. “But we don't know anything about this Felix, Alexius or even him.” He chucked his thumb in the Tevinter's direction. “Cassandra has the ability to at least drain him of his magic, if he decides to try anything funny.”

“Felix is quite possibly the only respectable member of Tevinter society,” Dorian hissed. “He's more likely to hug you than attack you. He's harmless. Besides...” He picked at his clothes. “He's sick.”

Talia's eyebrows shot to her hairline. “Sick?”

Dorian sighed. “It's the reason Alexius joined the Venatori. He never really had any interest in promoting 'Tevinter Supremacy',” he scoffed. “But that changed when Felix and his mother were attacked by darkspawn. Felix survived, Livia didn't.”

“So Felix is Tainted?” There was a hint of sympathy in Josephine's eyes.

“Yes, and The Elder One has suppressed it for now. Alexius believes that if he furthers Corypheus' plans, he will cure the Taint in Felix.”

That almost confirmed it—the only known cure to the Taint was joining the Grey Wardens. If they were under Corypheus' banner, then he could have used it to bargain with Alexius.

“Felix already knows there's no cure for the Taint,” Dorian continued. “But Alexius is stubborn. Felix is his only son, the heir to his seat in the Magisterium, and he will go to whatever lengths to save him.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed his proclamation.

“All the same, I do agree with Bull. Cassandra should be the one to escort Felix.” She raised a hand to forestall Dorian's argument. “For his safety as well. I'm certain that there are a lot of angry Venatori, and Felix will be a target since he was seen aiding the Grand Enchanter.”

“Of course.” Dorian's tone was still belligerent, but he held his tongue.

“For the forces, we'd need a good mix of mages and soldiers.” She turned to Cullen. “I want you and Leliana to handpick whoever we need for this entire business to work. I understand we have a number of mages; it would be best to bring whoever's here in Haven to this mission. If only to get them away from Conall when they get here.”

“We'll handle it, Herald. I'll include others who've had templar training as well. They may come in handy eventually.”

“I want Solas to be in charge of the mages,” she turned to the elf, who inclined his head in acknowledgment. “You've been handling their training, am I correct?”

“Yes, their mastery has grown when they found themselves free of the templar threat.”

Talia had a feeling he was throwing a jibe at Cullen and Cassandra, though he'd masterfully done it with an expressionless face.

“Work with Cullen and Leliana in selecting whom to bring on this mission.”

“Very well, Herald.”

“Perhaps now is a good time to take a break?” Josephine suggested. “After all, we've missed dinner, I can have someone bring some food and we can continue discussing strategy afterward.”

Talia didn't say anything, but she threw Josephine a grateful look. Though they didn't speak often, Talia had the impression that Josephine was a very kind woman, albeit one who knew that she needed to cross lines to get the job done.

“Talia, may I speak with you?” Leliana approached her when they started clearing out the table. Talia looked around the room to see if any of them needed something from her before nodding and stepping out of the room with the Spymaster. They strode into Josephine's office and closed the door behind them, with Talia casting a muffle spell before talking.

“What did you need?”

“What exactly did you do to Korrim?” Leliana's eyes were like ice shards, and Talia raised an eyebrow at her.

“Why do you assume I did anything to him?”

The woman's eyes narrowed, and she crossed her arms. “Since you never asked me about Korrim again, I'd assumed you'd decided to leave the matter to me. I've tried questioning him, but he's never given up information, until today.”

“Oh? What information did he give?”

“Talia,” Leliana said sharply, and all pretenses of innocence fled Talia's face.

“I didn't harm him physically, but I know of other ways to break a man,” she admitted.

Leliana sighed. “You didn't have to go behind my back. He was yours to deal with.”

“I...didn't want any others to know how proficient I am at torture,” Talia said. “People talk, and it would be detrimental to the Herald of Andraste persona we've been projecting to the masses.” It was not the whole truth, but Talia didn't know how to say that she'd wanted to do something she was used to doing. Sneaking around and torturing someone for information had brought Talia a sense of peace and normalcy, as ridiculous and morbid as it sounded. “I admit I shouldn't have done so. I apologize.” She did a lot more of that lately, apologizing, and it was strange in and of itself.

“I—it's all right.” Leliana was clearly taken aback by her apology.

“So,” Talia said briskly to dispel the awkwardness. “What did he have to say?”

“He told us what information he told the Templars, the number of people we have, the location of all our camps, alliances we've made so far, important agents we've recruited. Thankfully, he knows nothing about you or the circumstances which brought you here. However, I highly doubt that Corypheus doesn't already know. He must know something happened, since it was Lavellan who interrupted the ritual, but you who emerged from the rift.”

Talia felt a pang of guilt as she remembered that she had yet to tell them that she knew what happened in the Fade. She'd been saved by Justinia, and Talia knew just how much the Divine had meant to both Leliana and Cassandra.

“What else?”

“They're looking for a defector. Knight-Commander Trevelyan from the Ostwick Circle and his templars had denounced their ideals, and they've been on the hunt ever since. I'm assuming Trevelyan has important information and they want him silenced before relevant parties find him.”

Talia nodded. “Have some of your agents look into Trevelyan. If he can be persuaded to join us, I'm sure Cullen would be thrilled to have more templars in the Inquisition.”

“Already on it, Talia.”

“I...” Talia hesitated, then sighed. “I want Korrim freed.”

“What?” Leliana asked in surprise. “He's a traitor. I would think he'd be given no less than a quick execution.”

“Book him and his family a transport out of Ferelden. After what I did to him, I doubt he'd even think of betraying us again, and the templars will be looking for him.”

Leliana cocked her head to the side as she observed the dunmer. “I thought you didn't tolerate betrayal.”

“I don't,” Talia simply said, but offered no other explanation. She thought of the image she'd projected into the man's mind and the screams that accompanied him. Those would stick with him for the rest of his life, killing him now would be a mercy. A small part of her that she didn't want to acknowledge simply didn't think it would be right to deprive his daughter of a loving father. Killing people had never really bothered her, but orphaning children sometimes led to disastrous consequences. She shook her head as the contents of Bellamont’s journal filled her mind.

Once dinner was over, they ironed out the details of their plan. It was not perfect, but it seemed the only one that was viable at the moment. Sera had seemed ecstatic at the idea of infiltrating Redcliffe, so much so that she'd whooped in joy when they informed her of her role. It was clear that Bull wanted to be where the action was, but Talia didn't trust him. They would learn a lot of valuable information in this mission, and the less reported to this Ben-Hassrath, the better. Solas was his usual quiet self, though Talia noticed he seemed to be giving her inscrutable looks.

After their meeting, Talia joined Josephine in her office and went over the letter they were going to send to King Alistair. It was frustrating that she couldn't write anything in their language, but at least Josephine was willing to help her with it. By the time they were done, Talia's head was pounding, and she felt wearier than ever. She was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.

When she woke, she was in the hospice at Cloud Ruler Temple, dutifully laying still as Martin Septim tended to her wounds.

"You should really be more careful," Martin chided her lightly as he wiped the blood off her.

The dunmer rolled her eyes. "If I did, I wouldn't have been there, closing the gate at Kvatch,"

Martin stilled at her words, and she mentally berated herself. Kvatch was still a rather sore topic for him, who had never felt more helpless at that moment.

"I'm sorry," she offered. "I often find that my mouth is disconnected from my mind."

Martin sighed as he finished healing her cuts, and sat down on the side of the bed. "Apology accepted," he said. "I simply wish I could have done more."

Talia gave him a sharp look as she sat up. "Kvatch was not your fault. Stop beating yourself over it."

"The daedra—"

"Would have killed more people if you hadn't been there to heal them."

"They attacked Kvatch because they were looking for me!" He exclaimed angrily. "Do not pretend it was otherwise just to spare my feelings."

Talia pursed her lips. "It's true that they were looking for you, but how many gates have been opened? Kvatch was the first, but it would have been attacked eventually even if you weren't there. There is no point in thinking of what-ifs."

Martin's shoulders slumped. "I cannot help but regret what happened."

She threw her hands up in exasperation. "If you intend to harbor your imagined guilt for the rest of your life, then there's nothing I can do about it. But harness it into something; learn how to wield your sword properly, or study more destruction magic so you can defend yourself and others."

Another sigh escaped his lips, but this one in acceptance. "You're right, as usual. Wallowing in self-pity would help no one." He smiled at her. "What would I do without you?"

"I'm sure you'll find some other priestess of Mara to whom you can unburden yourself," she teased. Though they both knew she was quite obviously not a priestess, no matter how she had first presented herself, Martin never called her out on the lie.

"Of course, but where else could I find a priestess who would willingly brave Oblivion for me?"

Talia sobered. "Every Blade here would give up their life for you in an instant, Martin."

The twinkling in his eyes dimmed. "I would not ask any of you to do so," he murmured.

She shrugged as she looked down and fiddled with the hem of the pillowcase. "These things are not asked for, but willingly given."

A warm hand caught her chin and raised it so that her red eyes met blue ones.

"What do you plan to do when this is all over?"

"Go back to Bravil, serve my Lady," she said. It would be impossible to stay with the Blades after Martin was crowned emperor. She was a Silencer, Lucien's Silencer to be more specific. He may allow her to tarry around when the fate of Nirn was on the line, but afterwards? Never.

"You said all of Blades would give their lives for me. Would you?”

"Of course," she replied with no hesitation. Her life was not hers to give, but she would deal with the consequences in the future.

"Then, will you stay?" he murmured.

"What?" she asked dumbly. Talia was suddenly aware of Martin's hand, which had gone from holding her chin to tracing the paint on her cheek.

"Would you give up your life as an assassin to stay by my side?"

Talia's heart leapt to her throat. Was he truly asking…?

"Martin, I cannot stay, you know this. You are the Emperor, and I am…me. Besides, I…I already belong to another."

Martin leaned forward until they were a hair's breadth away, and growled, "You are mine." And he captured her lips in a searing kiss, stealing her breath.

For one blissful moment, there was nothing but her, Martin, and yes she would definitely stay.

But something was wrong, Martin's hands were too rough, his grip too forceful. Apart from that, Martin had certainly never kissed her—not until that fateful day in the Temple of One.

Talia pushed the figure away, and like in the past, the image flickered. Talia could she a female figure, scantily-clad, her skin purple and eyes hooded in unmistakable lust. The dunmer growled and pushed the demon away, certain now that she was in the Fade.

“Oh but Talia,” the demon still spoke in Martin's voice. “I can give you everything you've ever wanted. If you'd only just accept—,”

“Sithis take you,” Talia hissed. She had no idea how to vanquish a demon in the Fade, but a number of well-placed ice spikes should suffice. Before she could attack, a look of fear crossed the demon's face, and without warning, green flames enveloped her, and she disappeared with a keening wail.

Talia whirled around, and was met with an elf. He was wearing armor made out of gold, tarnished, as if it had gone through many battles. Half of his face was covered with a wolf mask, and Talia could only see the soft smirk that was gracing the man's face.

“What are you?” he asked in a soft voice. Talia recognized it as the one that woke her up during the nightmare with Lukas, and her eyes immediately narrowed.

“I would ask the same of you.”

Her answer seemed to amuse the elf. “You may call me the Dread Wolf, if you please.”

“The Dread Wolf?” Talia said in a flat voice that should tell him exactly what she thought of such a ridiculous name. “Is it because of the mask?”

The elf grinned, and it struck Talia that his smile did seem very wolf-like. “Perhaps I wear the mask because it represents who I am.”

“You've been invading my dreams.” Talia decided to get to the heart of the matter. The elf cocked his head to the side. “I've heard your voice calling out.”

“Interesting,” he said. “I would have thought that you wouldn't remember those instances.”

“What do you want?” Talia demanded. This was uncharted territory. She had no idea how to deal with the Fade, she'd never been connected to it. Dreaming here was obviously very different from dreaming in Nirn, if the elf could traipse around in her mind.

“I?” He started pacing. “I simply wish to understand. And perhaps...to help you along the way.”

“Help me?”

The elf gestured forward. “Walk with me.” And without checking if Talia was following, he strode ahead. Cursing silently, Talia dogged his footsteps.

Slowly, the world around her changed and shifted from the hospice into a beautiful temple, with tall ivory spires that stretched out to kiss the sky. The floor they'd been walking on changed into a long stone bridge, and underneath it, a clear river that flowed south and cascaded into beautiful waterfalls. Impossibly large trees cradled the structure they were on, and crystalline branches shimmered in the starlight. Talia stopped and admired the view for a moment.

“Beautiful is it not?” the Dread Wolf's voice said from her right.

She glanced at him and saw that the red eyes she could see from the slits on the mask looked pensive and nostalgic.

“Where is this?”

“This is Arlathan, or Arlathan as it was.” His smile faded, and he pushed himself away from the edge of the bridge and continued walking. Talia allowed herself to walk beside him, but she never let her guard down. She didn't know who this elf was or what his agenda was.

“The Elves of Thedas have been oppressed for too long, and I wish to empower them. Restore the Elvhen back to their former glory,” he said, and Talia threw him a sidelong glance.

“And what, pray tell, does this have to do with me?”

The elf paused in his steps and turned to her. “Everything.”

Talia suppressed a shiver at how ominously he said it. The Dread Wolf reached out slowly and took her left hand. He flipped it so that her palm faced upward, and when he touched the green mark, it glowed and flared. Talia retracted her hand and gave him a warning look.

“My apologies,” he said. “This magic is of Elvhen make.”

“Elvhen?” Talia glanced down at her hand. It would make sense; the magic was old, since nobody seemed to understand just exactly what it was.

“Do you know what your mark does?” When Talia said nothing, he continued. “It is called the Anchor, because it is something that grants you the ability not just to close tears in the Veil, but to open fade rifts as well. This,” he gestured to her hand. “Is the only known way to enter the Fade physically. Corypheus sought this so that he may enter the Fade, and take the Maker's throne so to speak.”

“How did you know about Corypheus?” Talia said sharply.

“I know a great many things, Talia Indoril.”

This elf was dangerous, he knew too much, and remained a mystery. What was worse was that she could not escape him. He would haunt her dreams if he wished, and she would have to look for a way to block this strange connection to the Fade. Seeing how warily she watched him, the Dread Wolf smiled at her.

“I know you don't trust me, how could you when we've barely just met?”

“And you invade my privacy by integrating yourself in my dreams,” she deadpanned.

He flashed his teeth in a grin. “There is that. But I would like to give you something, a token of good faith.”

Talia looked at him skeptically, and he merely smiled in response. He waved his hand and a glowing map of Thedas appeared in front of them.

“I know you've been dealing with the templars, and Haven isn't an ideal location for your base of operations.” He straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind him, a gesture Talia was certain she'd seen before. “In the Frostback Mountains, near the Dales, there is an abandoned elven fortress. It is called Tarasyl'an Te'las, or Skyhold in King's Tongue. Its stones are imbued with a protective magic. It will be a perfectly defensible place to set up the Inquisition.”

Talia narrowed her eyes at him. “What is your game?”

He gave her another infuriating smile. “Perhaps you can figure out later after you wake up.”

Talia woke with a jolt, and she dispelled the magic in her fingers as she ascertained her location. She was in Haven, in her cabin, where she had fallen asleep. She opened the door and asked one of the guards to call for Solas, probably the only one who could make sense of the situation.

She couldn't remember much about this Dread Wolf, and she was sure it was something he'd done in the Fade. But she remembered his words. Restoring Elves to their former glory. The Anchor. Skyhold.

When Solas arrived, he looked alert, and his face was concerned when Talia waved him in.

“Is everything all right, Herald?” he asked.

Talia hesitated. What was she going to say, that a man had come to her in her dreams and told her about her mark and an abandoned fortress in the North?

Solas waited patiently, and Talia sighed, running a hand through her hair before speaking.

“Have you ever heard of a place called Skyhold?”

Solas answering smile was so familiar, and Talia couldn't place just where she'd seen it before.

Chapter Text

They were greeted with much fanfare when they reached the Crossroads. The place certainly looked much better than when they first arrived months ago. Corporal Vale reported that they were able to get a steady supply of food since hunting was a lot safer without the templars or mages trading blows. Johnson, the mage Talia had assigned as the main healer for the camp, happily told her that their herb stocks were full and that they managed to prevent infection in many wounded soldiers.

As soon as they finished exchanging pleasantries and hearing status reports, Talia commandeered one of the tents and flopped onto the bedroll with a groan. Her head was killing her; it had been an incredibly long day, and it took a lot of effort to project herself as confident and calm, when she was everything but.

Talia was aware that there were too many factors that could go wrong. Apart from their mission, there was the matter of the Dread Wolf that concerned her greatly. She shared their meeting with Solas, who was the only elf who might know what in Oblivion was going on. He looked concerned when she mentioned the Dread Wolf, and Talia had apprehensively asked just who the Dread Wolf was.

Fen'Harel.

That was what Solas said his true name was. And he was considered as one of the Elven gods.

Or at least, masquerading as one. It was highly possible that someone who had the ability to walk the Fade was integrating himself into her dreams. Talia watched him more carefully after he said this; she hadn't forgotten their talk before, when he had told her of his particular skill. But Solas didn't act suspiciously, he seemed genuinely worried about her dreams, and told her everything he knew about the subject. He was familiar with Skyhold, and reassured Talia that it could be a viable base of operations.

Apart from Solas, the only other person she'd told of the dreams were Leliana. Just before they left, Talia pulled her aside and asked her to look into Skyhold. It would be a while before they would be able to transfer there, likely after the entire business with the templars and the mages, but if it proved to be as good as Solas said, she would prefer if they moved to a more secure location.

Leliana suggested asking Solas for lessons on blocking the mind's connection to the Fade, or at least controlling what went on in her dreams, and Talia had conceded that it wasn't a bad idea. Still, while she liked Solas enough, as he seemed the most level-headed out of all her companions, she didn't trust him that much.

The books she'd brought with her didn't have any in-depth discussions about the Fade, but were more of Chantry propaganda against magic. One book stated in disturbingly great detail a list of all mages that had caused devastation across the countryside. In the end, she settled on reading the Chant of Light again and analyzing what it said about the Fade.

If the religious book would be believed, the Fade was created by the Maker, and is inhabited by spirits, his first children. Demons, it stated, were essentially these spirits that grew “jealous” of human life. As for the Old Gods, they were supposedly demons so powerful that they were able to cross over from the Fade and then proclaimed themselves gods to the men. In his anger, the Maker sent them to sleep in stone.

Talia frowned as she updated her notes. One of the reasons she was so skeptical about the Maker and his existence was that it was obvious the Chant was written by people. If the Maker created the spirits and these Old Gods, shouldn't he have been powerful enough to banish them back to the Fade where they belonged? Unlike the Aedra, there was no indication in the texts that creating the world and the Fade had diminished his power in the slightest. And how did they know that the Black city in the middle of the Fade used to be Golden? What if it were black to begin with, swirling with volatile dark magic that was beyond their comprehension?

As for the Old Gods, why and how did they become dragons? Did they possess dragons, finding them the apex predators during that time, or were they always dragons to begin with? It had surprised her to know that dragons were rampant across Thedas, though from what she'd heard and read, they were just animals—smart animals—but animals nonetheless, in contrast to those in Mundus. She'd read ancient texts on dragons when she was in Skyrim, about their power, their magic, how they conquered towns of men and turned worship to them. Talia scowled at the book and resolved to do more research on the Old Gods when she had the time.

She turned the page and had to roll her eyes at what was stated.

These truths the Maker has revealed to me:

As there is but one world,

One life, one death, there is

But one god, and He is our Maker.

Talia shut the book in front of her in annoyance. Obviously, there wasn't just one world, Mundus, was proof of that. And who were these Andrastians kidding when they say there was only one god? No god, no matter how divine or powerful could have created an entire world by himself. Even as a follower of Sithis, Talia knew there was no basis for the propaganda stating that the Dread Father created everything in the universe, no matter how much Ocheeva had tried hammering it in to her.

She pulled out her other journal, and she traced the cover lightly, where her initials were engraved. It was one of the few things she'd brought over from Nirn. Her topic of research then had been the translation spell, and she allowed herself a small smile when she remembered how skeptical Raminus had been when she'd told him.

Well, Raminus, she thought wryly. Here's definitive proof that it could actually work.

Talia flipped through her notes, hoping that she might have written anything in the past that could aid her now. The journal, sadly, only held notes and studies on the different spells and enchantments she'd been working on for the past few months.  As she stuffed it back into her pack, a silhouette appeared against the entrance of her tent, and she suppressed the urge to groan.

“Is there something you need, Dorian?” she said as neutrally as she could.

“Ah, even without seeing my beautiful face, the Herald already senses my magnificence. Truly, you are a woman of great power.” The mage parted the tent's covers and strode in with a swagger. He made himself at home and sat on the only chair, making Talia look up at him from where she was seated on her bedroll.

“Doing a bit of research, I see? You won't find anything useful from those books, I'm afraid,” He eyed the Chant of Light and the Magical Disasters texts. “What is it you're looking for anyway?”

Clearly, Dorian came to her with bad news, otherwise he wouldn't be stalling.

“Information on the Fade,” she answered his question. Making him feel at ease with her would hopefully get him to speak about whatever news he brought with him. Using calm spells were out of the question; being a mage, he would sense it just as soon as she gathered it in her palms.

“What has you so interested in the Fade?” he asked curiously. “I didn't think non-mages bothered themselves with that kind of information. The Chantry might just call you a mage-loving heretic.”

Talia almost snorted. “Too late for that, the Chantry already hates me. As for your question, I'm not sure you've noticed it, but I do have this thing on my hand that can close Fade rifts.”

Dorian chuckled. “So, you don't even know how it works? Do you just wiggle your fingers at the rift until it goes away?”

His condescending tone irked Talia. "From what I understand, the mark contains Fade magic that anchors the rifts into place. Connecting it with the rifts siphons said magic into it, and eventually causes them to implode, sealing it.” Talia shrugged nonchalantly. “Since nobody seems to have any idea what is, it would be safe to assume it's Ancient Elven magic.” She peered at Dorian. “Or do you have an alternate theory? If so, I'd like to hear it.”

She had said this all so coolly, that Dorian stared at her for a moment before narrowing his eyes. The Nine be damned, she must be more tired than she thought. Magic was something she took pride in, and it was a touchy topic for her. She cursed herself for being so careless with her words, she may as well have announced to Dorian that she was the Arch-mage.

“I have been meaning to ask you about something.” Dorian crouched down in front of her. Talia eyed him questioningly. She didn't expect him to extend his hand towards her, or for her to react instinctively. She pressed the Blade of Woe to his throat, her heart pounding. Dorian froze, and Talia saw that he didn't have a spell readied in his hand, but was instead poised to touch her enchanted pendant. She breathed out slowly, lowering her blade.

“I apologize, there have been too many attempts on my life for me not to be paranoid,” she said, and in a lower tone added, “Don't do that again.” Some of the darkness instilled by the Brotherhood must have leaked from her, since he paled and nodded stiffly.

She had to hand it to him, he composed himself quickly, and acted as if the last few seconds didn't just happen. “I was curious about your pendant.”

“What about it?”

This time, he kept his hands to himself. “All mages are attuned to magic to a certain extent; we can sense it when it's cast. Some of us, the more handsome and talented ones.” Talia could not stop herself from rolling her eyes. “Can sense latent and dormant magic. I want to know…” He narrowed his eyes as he leaned away from her. “What you're doing with a pendant infused with blood magic.”

Talia blinked at him. “Blood magic?” she echoed.

“As I've said, I'm more attuned to magic. Years of experimentation, probably,” he sounded guilty, but of what, Talia wasn't sure.

Ah, she remembered. Of course, she used her blood as well as Maryden's for the ritual. She didn't know mages could sense it. With the exception of Solas, none of the other mages she'd met had given her strange looks or made any indication they could sense her enchanted items.

“And you want to know what it does?” Talia asked. Could she trust Dorian with this information? Well, if not, she could kill him eventually, she thought darkly. She was getting tired of having to walk on eggshells around everybody. While he was important for now, Alexius was someone who had the information they needed. If Dorian decided to go against them, she was fairly certain she could exterminate him.

Mind decided, she took off her necklace and placed it in Dorian's hands. He cast a few spells on it, none that she recognized, and he had a frown on his face as he tried to figure it out.

“Well, do you understand now?”

Dorian turned to her in confusion, and Talia could see him putting two and two together. He handed it back to her, speaking words she couldn't understand. As soon as she slipped it on, Talia caught the tail end of his sentence.

“...extraordinary. As far as I know, no one has been able to create a working translation spell or enchantment. Usually because you have to—,”

“Create a link between two separate minds, and channel it in such a way so that it does not enter and exit in the same way.” She finished for him, and once again, Dorian looked at her in wonder.

“You know a lot about magical theory, but you can't speak King's Tongue?” he asked curiously.

“Not knowing how to speak a certain language does not mean I'm stupid, Dorian.”

“Indeed,” he replied fluidly. “But we've deviated. Was it created using blood magic?”

“What qualifies as 'blood magic'?” she asked, irritation seeping in her tone. “If you mean it needed some blood for it to work, the answer is yes. It needed a drop of my blood, and someone else's for the knowledge of the two languages to mix and translate. And no, the person who enchanted this for me did not consort with demons of the Fade, and was not a blood mage. And that's the end of that discussion, Dorian.” she added when the mage opened his mouth to speak.

Dorian hummed in response, but said nothing else. Talia was sure he had suspicions about her, but he was smart enough not to ask.

“Now, was there something you needed me for, apart from asking me about my pendant and bothering me with magical theories?” she prodded.

“Ah, yes.” He reclaimed his seat as he coughed uncomfortably. “I—ah, have more information that may be useful to the Inquisition. It concerns the—ah—research Alexius has been working on that caught Corypheus' eye.”

Talia waited patiently for him to continue.

“Well, it's my research as well. Purely theoretical of course, that is, until the entire business with the Breach.”

Talia straightened in her seat. “What was it you were studying?”

Dorian looked conflicted, and after a few moments the words tumbled from his lips.

“Time magic.”

Talia stared at Dorian incredulously. Time magic? The idea was preposterous. As far as she knew the only way to alter time was through Aedric or Daedric magic; mortal magic could never be so powerful. But then again, she was not on Mundus.

Her heart pounded as she realized the implication of this. Time magic was a whole different aspect to Interdimensional magic, but it was a start. She'd been displaced through time and space, and if she could get her hands on even one part of that equation…

She opened her mouth, but another voice cut into their conversation.

“Herald! Your presence is requested near the main gates.” One of the Inquisition soldiers spoke from the outside.

Talia scrutinized Dorian for a moment before turning. “What's the situation, Corporal?”

“Templars, Your Worship.”

“Keep out of sight,” she told Dorian.

She pushed herself off the bedroll and was out of the tent in flash. She followed the quickest path to the gates, hardly noticing when Solas stepped in beside her. Her mind whirled as she thought of what to say. Conall would likely wonder why she wasn't in Haven, and if word reached them that she was going to help the mages, it would be disastrous.

The templars they met at the gates, however, were not any that Talia recognized. One of them, Talia surmised he was their leader—stepped forward when she arrived. He was ruggedly good-looking, with tan skin, messy brown hair and grey eyes.

“Your Worship,” he saluted.

Talia nodded at him. “Is there a problem here?” she asked. “I've already instructed Ser Conall to send the Templars to Haven.”

“Conall...Selbrech?” The man blanched and Talia's eyebrows shot to her hairline.

“Yes. He's been instructed to negotiate the terms of the alliance,” she said cautiously.

“Ah—I see,” the man floundered. “In that case, my men and I will simply—,”

“You seem nervous, Ser templar. Any reason for it?” she asked easily, but with an undertone of danger. Why did the man seem so anxious? Was he sent there to spy for them?

The answer came in the form of Cassandra, who'd marched up to them, and started when she saw the templar.

“Knight-Commander Trevelyan?” she asked in surprise.

If possible, the man paled further, and his eyes darted apprehensively to Talia, as if he feared what she would do when she learned his name. And if she actually were allied with Conall Selbrech, he was right to fear it. As it was, she remembered Leliana telling her that Trevelyan had defected from the Templar Order, and was on the hunt, likely carrying information about them.

Talia relaxed when she heard it, more to show Trevelyan that they were on the same side, and the templar seemed wary at her change in attitude.

“I apologize if I came off as aggressive, Knight-Commander. But I had thought you were one of Conall's men.” Talia explained.

“Why would you be if you're in an alliance with them?” He narrowed his eyes, and his hand hovered over the pommel of his sword. Well, at least he actually had a spine. Given how frightened he was a while ago, Talia had assumed he was rather easily subdued.

“It's a sham,” Cassandra said bluntly, and Talia resisted the urge to drag a hand down her face. Classic Cassandra Pentaghast tact.

The man blinked. “Truly? It would be devastating if you agreed to the alliance, only to have them betray you in the end.”

“Yes, we're aware of their allegiance to the Elder One,” Cassandra scowled.

Trevelyan looked so relieved that Talia wanted to give him a reassuring pat on the back. “When you mentioned Selbrech, I was certain everything was lost. My men and I left when we found out what they planned to do.”

Talia exchanged a look with Cassandra. “A traitor from our ranks was questioned yesterday, and he revealed that the Templars have been looking for you.”

“Yes, we were on our way to Haven when we received information that you were seen heading for the Hinterlands. Thankfully, we were already in the area, and it was only a matter of actually looking for you.” He straightened. “We wish to join the Inquisition.”

Talia crossed her arms as she scrutinized the group in front of her. A handful of templars, who looked tired, but capable. They looked like they had just gotten out of a battle; their armor was scuffed and there were splatters of blood in them. Some looked injured, nursing either a broken arm or a side wound. Their hands were shaking, and she made a mental note to ask Cassandra about it later.

“Perhaps we can use them to balance out the team to lead the siege,” Cassandra suggested.

“Indeed,” Solas agreed, speaking for the first time. “We have many mages, but only a few templars. Perhaps this way we can assess their skills in battle?”

Talia did not like it, but she agreed to some extent. Having more templars to subdue the Venatori's magic would be helpful. “Very well. Let me gather the rest of the team, and we can go over the plan one final time with the Knight Commander.”

When they had dispersed, Talia snagged Cassandra by the elbow and Solas by the arm, just as they were leaving.

“If they make a move to harm any of our people, I expect you to kill them,” she said firmly. Cassandra looked like she wanted to argue, but eventually nodded, seeing the value in her words.

Talia gathered her team, sans the foot soldiers, to one of the larger tents to go over their plan. It was almost time for them to enact the first phase of the plan, and everybody was jittery; Dorian kept drumming his fingers on the table, Trevelyan was sweating nervously, Sera was visibly bouncing, and Cassandra paced around the tent agitatedly. It seemed she and Solas were the ones maintaining at least a facade of calmness.

“Now that we're all here—,”

“I thought we were working against the Templars?” Dorian looked irked at the presence of Trevelyan, and the templar likewise grunted at him.

“I defected from them, Tevinter,” he bit back.

“Quiet,” Talia slashed her hand through the air, and everyone fell silent. “We have much bigger things to worry about than petty grievances.” When nobody else spoke, she continued. “Knight-Commander Trevelyan has left the Templar Order and has willingly joined the Inquisition—,”

“Er—please call me Maxwell. Since I left the Order, I no longer hold that rank.”

“Maxwell then,” Talia said smoothly. “He and his men will be joining our siege on Redcliffe. Let's go over the plan one last time.”

Talia prayed to Nocturnal that for once in her life, she’d grant her the luck she needed to pull this off without problems.

As usual, Nocturnal simply laughed at her.

Talia had perched upon a tree near the north entrance and watched with hawk eyes as Sera approached the gate. She wasn't close enough to hear what was going on, but it seemed the guards by the gate were belittling the woman for being an elf. To Sera's credit, she simply cast her head down; the elf could really behave when she wanted to. There were a few more moments when the guards didn't look convinced, but either Sera said something or they knew Sera's meat was good, so they opened the gate and let her in.

Now, all Talia had to do was wait.

The dunmer watched the waxing moon rise as she waited for Sera's signal. It still bothered her that she wasn't seeing Secunda and Masser in the sky. How many nights back in Cyrodiil had she needed to simply lay out a bedroll and sleep under the stars? She tried looking for her sign, The Apprentice, in the stars, but even that couldn't be found. The Ayleids and many others had theorized that magicka had come from the stars—as they were holes to Aetherius. Why then, was Talia able to use her magic when she was in a different world?

A glint of light caught Talia's attention, and she turned her gaze back onto the ramparts. She watched it carefully until the gesture was repeated, and Talia pulled out a small mirror and signaled back to Sera.

She slipped on the Ring of Khajiiti and she stuck to the shadows as she made her way to the wall. She cursed when she noticed the stones were smoothed out. Just as Talia was about to stick her dagger into the wall, a long rope was thrown over the edge of the parapet. Eyeing it curiously, Talia grabbed a hold of it and started climbing.

When she reached the top, Sera looked confused, and Talia had to clamp a hand over the elf's mouth when she accidentally startled her.

“Quiet,” she hissed.

“You daft tit! Where are you?”

Talia took off her ring, and Sera slapped her arm in annoyance.

The dunmer scowled at her as she rubbed her sore arm. “When I find Felix, I'll let him send a fireball in the sky. Once that happens—,”

“Yeah, yeah, I'll open the gates.”

“And Alexius?”

Sera sniggered quietly. “Yeah, I found him in one of the inns. Bastard looked at me like I was an insect, till I gave him the note, and suddenly acted as if I was a friggin' hero.” She rolled her eyes. “But yeah, he got the note. Said he'll distract the other creepy mage and meet you by the North Gate.”

Excellent. So far, so good.

“Just friggin' go already. All these mages are giving me the creeps.” Sera shuddered.

Talia passed the guards Sera had had to incapacitate as she made her way to the windmill. Whether they were simply knocked out cold or dead, Talia didn't know, or care. She found the secret trapdoor, and with a simple unlocking spell, she pushed it open and dropped down.

She didn't expect to be accosted as soon as she did, and so was caught unawares when a mage's staff swung her direction. Talia ducked just in time, and took a step back before drawing her daggers to block yet another attack. She twisted to the side to avoid a spell. Grabbing the staff, she pulled the mage closer and managed to kick him in the stomach. As he slid on the ground, Talia squinted in the dark to see who her assailant was.

Looking at her with frightened, wide eyes was a boy, barely out of his adolescence.

“Savith?”

Who apparently also knew who the Dragonborn was.

“My name is Talia Indoril,” she said, and the boy paled further.

“Y-you're the Herald of Andraste!”

“So they say, and you are?”

The boy shakily got to his feet. “I'm Connor. Connor Guerrin. I'm Arl Teagan's nephew. I—ah—Is the Inquisition here to help?”

Talia nodded curtly, still not feeling all that friendly to a boy who'd just attacked her.

“I—I apologize for attacking you. I assumed you were one of the Tevinters. They've already given us so much trouble these past few weeks.”

Talia scrutinized the boy. He looked tired, and he winced as he touched his stomach. “I need to speak with the Arl,” she said, and Connor nodded.

“I'll get you to him. I just really hope you're telling the truth.” And with that ominous bit of dialogue, he led her deeper into the underground pathway.

“So, how do you know Savith?” she asked conversationally.

“Oh,” Connor didn't meet Talia's eyes as he spoke. “She saved me when I was a child; she's the only reason I'm alive today.”

There was more to the story, if Connor's clenched fists were any indication, but Talia dropped the topic.

Connor unlocked the door that led into the castle, and both of them stepped in. Almost immediately, a group of mages pointed their staves at her. Talia watched them blandly as Connor stepped in between them and tried to get them to calm down.

“She's here to help,” he pleaded with them.

“Oh yeah?” a girl with fiery hair challenged. “Don't you know they're working with the templars? She's here to exterminate us all!”

Connor looked at her uncertainly, and Talia decided it was time to speak.

“I'm not working with the templars, and I'm certainly not here to exterminate you. The Inquisition got wind of what happened here, and we've come to help.”

The girl scoffed. But when she was about to retort, another voice entered the conversation.

“Beltran, Connor, what is going on here?” The group of mages parted, and Talia saw an elf clad in mage robes. With her calm demeanor and sharp eyes, she scrutinized the dunmer, and Talia already knew whom she was speaking with.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona, I presume.” Talia inclined her head in greeting.

“Herald of Andraste.” There was a touch of frostiness in the mage's response. “I don't believe we were expecting you.”

“I apologize for dropping by unannounced. But we received word of what was happening here—,”

“And decided to help?” Fiona pursed her lips. “Come now, let's not play games. You need the mages' help.”

Talia raised her eyebrow. Let no one say that Fiona was naive. “I'm here on behalf of the Inquisition seeking an alliance with the mages.”

Fiona let out a bitter laugh. “Really? And we must trust the word of a woman who, only a few weeks ago, had agreed to an alliance with the templars?”

“The templars forced our hand. Had we not agreed to at least discuss the terms of the alliance, we believe they would have sent a force to strike down Haven.” Talia tilted her head to the side. “You don't know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“The Inquisition did some digging when we were in Val Royeaux. We've discovered that the Templars are part of the group responsible for the death of the Divine.”

Many in the crowd gasped at this news, and Talia knew it was the right decision to let it slip. Fiona seemed conflicted for a moment before she ordered her men to stand down.

Fiona marched up to her and looked her dead in the eye and Talia stared back at her calmly. Whatever the Grand Enchanter found, it seemed to have passed inspection, because she nodded. “If what you say is true, then we must work together to eliminate the Templar Order.” She stepped back and walked away, beckoning for Talia to follow.

They strode through the castle corridors with haste, and when they reached a set of double doors, Fiona flung them open, and inside the room was a man looking over a map.

“Teagan,” Fiona called, and when the man looked up, he did a double take when he saw Talia.

“Savith?” Must she really resign herself to being mistaken for someone the entire time she was here? “No—I assume you're the Herald of Andraste?”

“Talia Indoril.” She gave a small bow.

“Fiona?” There was a hint of hardness in Teagan's voice when he turned to her.

“The templars are working for the group that killed the Divine,” Fiona said without preamble, and Talia was treated to the sight of the Arl gaping in shock. “We must work together; I have decided to trust the Herald.” The for the moment went unsaid, but Talia heard it anyway.

Fiona must have had the Arl's full confidence, since he didn't question her, but simply nodded. “Very well, I trust your judgment. What did you have in mind?”

Talia nodded to the map, which happened to be a drawing of Redcliffe castle and the surrounding grounds. “May I?” Teagan gestured for her to go on, and she approached the table. “My men are stationed here.” She pointed to the north gate. “As soon as I give the signal, one of my infiltrators will open that gate and allow them to attack. We have a good mix of templars, mages and plain soldiers, and I'm confident they can do much damage. Once they're suitably distracted you and the mages can charge from the castle. I doubt they'd expect it.”

Teagan looked rather pleased that she'd brought in her men. “That's the best news we've had in ages,” he confessed. “How did you even hear about what happened?”

She debated telling them about Alexius, but decided if they were going to trust her, she needed to be truthful.

“This may seem strange to you, but one of the Tevinters actually contacted me.” Once the words were spoken, Talia could feel the room grow frosty, and she hastened to explain. “Alexius apparently, cares only for his son, Felix, and was desperate enough to contact me for help in saving him. In return, he will be providing valuable information about the Enemy. He will do anything for his son, including lying to the other Tevinters.”

“There is no guarantee that Alexius will help you. Once he has his son, he'll turn his back on you again.” Teagan said in disgust.

“Which is why I won't be handing his son over to him,” Talia said, and the two blinked at her.

“You're ransoming him?”

Talia almost laughed. “Ransom is such a harsh term. I prefer bargaining chip.” She shrugged. “But as long as he does not give us the information we need, Felix will be staying with us. You can be assured however, that he will not be harmed. One of his friends is a member of the Inquisition, and he will have my hide if anything happens to him.”

The two looked conflicted, but their response went unspoken as the castle gave a mighty shudder.

Talia spread out her arms to balance herself. “What in Oblivion—?”

A strong force of magic pulsed through the air and blasted the windows back. Fiona threw her hand out and shielded the three of them from the shattered glass.

“It's the Tevinters! They've finally decided to lay siege on the castle.” Teagan gritted his teeth and he turned to Talia. “Felix is three rooms away.” He tossed the key towards her. “Grab him and go, I hope our trust in you isn't misplaced, Herald.”

“Fiona, send a fireball in the sky. It's the signal I gave my infiltrator.” She waited until Fiona hurled out a huge fireball, and Talia heard the telltale sound of the gates creaking open. At least, Sera had managed to stay in the ramparts without compromising her position.

Talia ran towards Felix's room and unlocked it. The man inside whirled around and looked at her in confusion as she stepped in.

“Dorian sent me,” she said simply. “No time to explain, I have to get you out of here.” Both of them ducked as a fireball sailed over their heads from the broken window.

Talia grabbed Felix by the arm and dragged him out of the room. They descended numerous flights of stairs and when they reached the main hall, it was pandemonium.

The Venatori had managed to break through the gates of the castle, and the room flashed in different colors as both sides threw spells at each other. Felix drew a barrier around them and cast back some spells on his own, while Talia gathered her throwing knives and sent it straight through the enemies' throats.

But they couldn't keep it up for long, Felix tiring out, and Talia running out of knives. “We have to keep moving!” she shouted over the noise in the hall. The mage nodded at her, but as soon as they started moving, a wall of sizzling green energy sprung up at either side of them. With no other choice but to look ahead, Talia was met with the sight of an enraged Venatori.

“You!” she sputtered at Felix. “You've cost us more than you can imagine.” She rushed forward, but had to move aside as an insidious spell flicked towards her direction. She blocked it with a twirl of her staff, and looked around to find her assailant. “You dare—?” she stopped and narrowed her eyes when she saw who it was.

“Father!” Felix cried.

Gereon Alexius slowly walked from where he was and stood between them and the woman spitting fire.

“Gereon,” the woman hissed. “Step aside and let me dispense justice. The Elder One may be more forgiving if you allow us to right this wrong.”

“Go,” he told the two of them, before taking on an offensive stance and firing spells at the woman rapidly. As the two descended onto the foyer, more Venatori engaged them in battle and Talia allowed her Mundane Ring to do its job protecting her, as she closed the distance and slashed at their throats.

“Herald!” Talia whipped her head towards the voice and saw Cassandra and Dorian near the castle doors with Trevelyan and the rest of the team behind them. She felt a hint of relief as she saw them. Things would turn out okay.

A strangled cry ripped from Felix, and Talia whirled around to see one of the Venatori plunge his knife into the man's shoulder. The shout distracted Alexius for a moment, and it was enough for the woman to hit him with a spell that had him crashing towards one of the pillars. Talia skidded on the floor and with one swift move, severed the man's hand and with another, tore his throat open.

There was a cackle of triumph from the woman, and Talia turned just in time to see her lift her staff and send a fiery blast towards them.

Alexius was faster, however.

He threw a spell at them, and the two jets of light met just before reaching the two of them. On instinct, Talia raised her hand to shield them, and her mark flared.

Talia felt her ears pop, and there was the strange sensation of being sucked through a hole. There was a bright flash of light, and a loud bang, and when the dust cleared, nothing remained; Talia Indoril and Felix Alexius disappeared from the battlefield.

Chapter Text

As Talia slowly gained consciousness, she first became aware of the stiffness in her joints, then the horrible throbbing in her head. It reminded her of that one time when she had been young and stupid, she’d allowed Methredhel and Amusei to convince her to take skooma with them, along with various alcoholic substances. The hallucinations weren't bad, but she had spent the entire night seeing bright fractals in the sky, and pink mammoths strutting around their shack. The hangover that followed the day after had been something to behold.

Talia opened her eyes, and suppressed a groan at what she saw. Swirling green lights, strange floating pillars—yes, even in her addled state, she could recognize this horrid place; she was once again in the Fade. She tensed when she heard a moan of pain somewhere near her, but relaxed when she realized it was only Felix. The dunmer struggled to her feet and hobbled over to the mage, who was deathly pale.

“You're losing a lot of blood. Do you know any healing spells?”

Felix's robes were drenched in blood, and Talia had to tear it to have a better look at the man's wound. His assailant had buried his blade just above his right breast, and it had gone straight through.

“Can't heal when I'm like this,” Felix groaned, eyes shut in clear agony.

Talia pursed her lips as she decided what to do. She wasn't ready to reveal her abilities, but she couldn't allow Felix to die on her watch; he was the only bargaining chip she had with Alexius. Mind made, she gathered the familiar energy of a restoration spell, and she pressed it towards Felix's injured shoulder.

The Tevinter's eyes opened in shock as he felt her magic, but Talia kept her face impassive as she healed him. She had stopped the bleeding and knitted some of the shredded tissue, but she didn't feel confident enough to deal with his broken and dislocated bones. She tore a piece of cloth from his robes and fashioned a sling for him.

To his credit, Felix said nothing, even if his eyes betrayed his curiosity.

“Are you well enough to move?” Talia asked as she knotted the bandage.

Felix frowned but when he tried to push himself up, he immediately collapsed, a bemused expression on his face. Talia caught him and lay him back down gently.

“I'll take that as a no. You should get some rest; I'll keep watch.” Without waiting for a response, she cast a sleeping spell on the mage.

Felix's eyes fluttered, and Talia could tell he was fighting it. Fatigue won eventually, and the mage drifted to sleep.

Talia sighed as she stood up and surveyed her surroundings. The last time they were in the Fade, she and Lavellan were chased by...something. The girl had seen spiders, but Talia had seen something else entirely. Whatever they were, she had to be alert and stay near Felix in case it happened again.

The dunmer started exploring as far away as she could while still keeping Felix in her sights. She'd escaped through a Fade rift before, though she couldn't see any bright lights like the one they ran towards. Talia remembered Justinia, and she felt a pang of guilt. So far, she hadn't told any of them what had truly happened that day in the Fade. Including the circumstances of the mark's transferring from Lavellan to her.

The air suddenly grew heavier, and Talia tensed as she looked around for the source. A few meters away, familiar purple energy appeared and swirled around, converging in one spot. There was the telltale sound of conjuration, something Talia knew very well, and a small portal appeared, no larger than her hand. She dove behind a large stone and raised her head a fraction, only enough to spy the portal.

Talia stared at it for a moment, her heart rate speeding in excitement. It was the first familiar thing she'd seen in months, and if it appeared, surely someone had performed the spell. She glanced back at Felix, who was still laying on the ground peacefully, and she turned back to the conjuration field. Nothing was exiting the portal, and yet it didn't disappear.

Drawing her Blade of Woe and readying a deadly spell, Talia slowly crept towards the portal. She frowned as she heard voices, and she whipped around in search for it, only to notice it was originating from the portal. There was a strange reverberating quality to them, as if they were holding a conversation inside an empty cave. As she drew nearer, she could make out what they were saying.

“—keyed to my blood. The portal obviously worked; she must be nearby.”

“This is pointless. How are we supposed to find her if we can't even see through the portal?” The voice of the woman was unfamiliar.

“This is the first step in establishing contact with another world. These things cannot be rushed. Although I don't expect someone with barely any magical talent at all, to understand these intricacies.” The other who spoke was a male dunmer, Talia was certain about that, and she was surprised to note that it actually sounded familiar. She ran through the list of those she knew, but she didn't know anyone that would go out of their way to look for her. Except Modryn, and he was useless with magic.

“Whatever.” Talia could almost hear the woman rolling her eyes. “So what are we supposed to do now?”

Throwing caution to the wind, Talia finally spoke. “Hello?”

“Did you hear that?” the woman said.

“Someone just spoke!” There was excitement in the dunmer's voice this time. “I don't understand it, but that accent is distinctly dunmer.”

Couldn't understand? Ah, her amulet, of course. She slipped the enchanted item off before speaking again. “Are you looking for someone?”

“You're obviously not the Dragonborn, so who are you and how did you get there?” The male dunmer demanded.

“You're looking for Savith, then?” Talia felt a touch of disappointment; she hoped it was someone she knew. Still, this was still the best thing that had happened to her since she arrived. Working with these people could help her figure out a way back.

“You know her?” The woman questioned.

“I know of her. She's quite well-known in this world.”

“But you never met her when you were in Nirn?” she guessed.

“As far as I know, I was pulled back from an earlier time than she was,” Talia admitted.

“Really?” The male dunmer's voice was full of curiosity.

“Yes, though the Dragonborn arrived here far earlier than I did.”

There was scribbling and muttering coming from the dunmer and Talia allowed herself a smug smile. She could bargain her knowledge of this world for their help in returning to Nirn. Perhaps she could even help them look for the Dragonborn, it was on her to-do list anyway.

“Before we get carried away with all this story-telling, maybe you can give us your name?” the woman asked.

Talia thought of giving a false name, but it would be pointless. “My name is Talia of the Great House Indoril. You are?”

“Serana,” the woman replied, but the dunmer was suspiciously quiet. There was shuffling and the woman—Serana—spoke again. “Neloth? Aren't you going to introduce yourself?”

Talia almost dropped her dagger in shock. “Neloth? Of House Telvanni?” That's why his voice was familiar! She did know him.

“Well, well, little Natalia Indoril. I do remember you from years ago. Are you at least studying better books than what your ignorant father gave you?”

Talia rolled her eyes. Her name was, and never will be Natalia. But for some inexplicable reason, it was what Neloth had heard when she introduced herself, and the name stuck. Her father had brought her with him to Sadrith Mora during one of their negotiations with House Telvanni. Naturally, being a little girl, she grew bored, and she left to wander around the Council Hall.

Neloth had found her in the archives, reading a book on magical theory. He had chided her for getting her grubby hands all over an important book she couldn't possibly understand; but she huffed and explained what she'd read. She then complained about her father never giving her good books on magic. He sneered at her and had a servant escort her back to the meeting hall.

Years later, they had met each other under similar circumstances, and Neloth had still sneered and had someone escort her away, but he let her keep a copy of the book she was reading.

She was young, and very naive, and she idolized the Telvanni mages for their prowess in magic. She'd write letters to Neloth asking for book suggestions and consulting him on her magical experiments. She must have sent a hundred letters, but Neloth only replied once. It was on the lines of “you are an idiot” but he gave her valuable input and told her not to bother him ever again. That didn't deter her though. Her father eventually asked her to stop since she should have been strengthening linkages inside House Indoril and not with other Houses.

“You know each other?” came Serana's surprised tone.

“Evidently,” Neloth commented sardonically. “But do tell, Natalia. How did you get there? And where is ‘there’ exactly?”

“I investigated Sheogorath's Oblivion portal, and when I entered, I was brought here. As for where I am exactly, I couldn’t tell you.” Talia shrugged, not that they could see it. “As far as I can tell, I’m not on Nirn, though they are similar in many ways. I’m doing my own research, but it’s going very slowly. I was—am caught up in yet another end-of-the-world crisis.”

Talia ended up summarizing the last few months of her life. It was such a relief to finally tell someone everything; Neloth and Serana, while not really people she knew were at least from Nirn. Both were curious about the new world, but Talia held back some information. It wouldn’t do for her if she didn’t have some leverage, and her knowledge of this world was the only thing she could bargain with.

“This is as ridiculous as it is fascinating,” Neloth said. “Who knows what the Aedra or the Daedra are planning. But I am more interested in this...Fade realm you keep on mentioning. The vampire and I—,”

“I have a name, Neloth,” Serana reminded him.

“—have been trying out variations of this ritual for some time. We’ve used my blood—dunmer blood to locate the Dragonborn before, but it's never worked.”

“Can you tell me how you set up the ritual?”

“I could, but I won't. It's long and complicated; I doubt you'd be able to recreate it.”

Neloth's snarky response had Talia rolling her eyes. “Maybe you can only establish a link to this world through the Fade?” Sheogorath's portal had spit her out here in the Fade. Savith must have been too, although Talia still didn't know the circumstances of her arrival.

“Hmmm. Well, that would explain why we could never get hold of the Dragonborn. If you're the first being that's physically entered this Fade in quite some time.”

“Or maybe it has something to do with the Breach? It is the largest tear in the barrier to the Fade in history. It's throwing off the balance of magic in this world, at least that's what I think.” The Fade was where all magic originated, having a large hole in the Veil would siphon excess magic to the mortal plane.

“You said the mark on your hand connects you to this Fade, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps we—,”

“This is all well and good, but this doesn't help us find Savith,” Serana interrupted, sounding irritated now.

“I only ever agreed to look for the Dragonborn so that I could study this strange phenomenon. Now that we can speak with Natalia, looking for Savith no longer concerns me.”

“Neloth,” the vampire's voice sounded dangerous.

“How did you even know the Dragonborn fell into another world?” Talia asked curiously.

“I didn't believe she died in the rescue attempt in the Thalmor Embassy. I asked around, but the answer came from an unlikely source, a dragon. Her dragon master to be specific.” Serana paused. “He mentioned that he could not sense the 'brightness of her soul' in this plane, and was likely in another.” Her voice regained its hard edge. “And we were given this information in hopes of finding Savith, who isn't only a hero who's saved the world twice over, but a valued friend without whose help, Neloth wouldn't be able to do half his current research—,”

“Ugh, fine, fine. Savith was my most resilient test subject. I suppose recovering her might be worthwhile.”

Typical Telvannni attitude, Talia rolled her eyes.

“I'm looking for her as well,” she said. “If we pool our knowledge and resources together, we may find a way to get off this forsaken world.”

“There, are you satisfied, Serana? Don't bare your fangs at me, or I'll turn you into ash.” There was shuffling and Neloth spoke again. “Now, as I was saying. We designed the ritual in such a way that Savith could key the portal to her through her blood. With the complication of this Fade realm, it probably won't work. So, consider this a sort of experiment,” his voice sounded eager. “Try channeling the power of your mark to this portal. Since your mark opens rifts in the Fade, I believe that it may be the key to allowing us to establish a portal in the mortal plane as well.”

“Through me,” Talia said warily. She had no idea if it would work; she rarely had time to experiment with her mark. But Neloth's reasoning was sound, well, based on what they knew at least. And if it did work, it would give them the ability to converse and discuss the situation.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Don't tell me you don't even know how it works?” Neloth commented snootily.

That was the case. She didn't know how her mark worked, but she'd be damned if she admitted that to Neloth.

Talia raised her hand and focused on willing her magic to flow through her marked hand. Her mark sizzled, and after a few moments, the tell-tale green magic burst from her hand and connected with the portal. It was strangely similar to closing a Fade rift, except that this one didn't implode when it couldn't handle the magic.

It exploded.

The dunmer was thrown back by the force of the blast. A shockwave rippled through the air, and Talia allowed herself to gape when a number of gateways appeared out of nowhere, white light burning brightly as the one she exited months ago.

A shrill cry pierced through the air, and Talia was on her feet in a flash. She whirled around, looking for the source, and in the distance behind her, she could make barely make out a moving form. From where she was, it looked like a massive wave of black tar slowly splashing and flowing towards them.

“Natalia?” Neloth's voice snapped her back to reality. The portal now looked unsteady, the energy shifting to green then back to purple.

“Did it work?”

“The soul gems glowed green, but I'm not sure. and we don't know for certain when we'll get in touch again, but just be ready,” Serana told her.

“I have to leave. Something's coming.”

“Don't get killed, Natalia,” were Neloth's parting words as Talia turned away from the portal, which was already fading. She made her way back to Felix, slipping her amulet back on and still keeping an eye on the strange occurrence in the horizon.

“I—what?” Felix asked groggily when she shook him awake.

“It's time to move.” Talia slung the man's arm over her shoulder and braced her other hand on his him, bearing most of his weight.

Felix blinked bemusedly, but allowed himself to be dragged forward. “What's going on?” he squinted at the beams of light coming from the numerous portals they passed.

“My mark reacted to something, and it opened all these exits. I think I disturbed something.”

Felix looked behind him, and he peered at what was behind them for a moment before his eyes widened almost comically.

“What is it?”

“I'd rather not find out,” Talia muttered as she hauled Felix forward.

Theoretically, the gateways that appeared probably led to different Fade rifts throughout Thedas. The problem was Talia didn't know which one she had to take to get back to Redcliffe. Peering through them revealed nothing, and she was not risking touching them unless she was sure it was the exit she needed.

Without warning, Felix cried out and his knees buckled, taking Talia down with him. The man started convulsing, and Talia tried examining him, but she couldn't figure out what was wrong. The wave of black liquid was coming towards them more quickly now, and it seemed to extinguish even the ethereal green glow of the Fade itself. The sky, or at least what was above them was darkening as well, and every second that passed seemed to make Felix's convulsions stronger.

There was something oppressive about the blackness that she could not explain, nothing like that peaceful darkness of the Void, but something deeper, more sinister. The blackness was only a few meters away, and Talia made a split-second decision.

She threw the strongest paralyzing spell she knew onto Felix, grabbed him by the front of his collar and threw both him and herself through the nearest exit.

The light was blinding, and Talia had to shut her eyes against it. She kept a firm grip on Felix's clothes as she felt both of them being propelled forward. There was the strange feeling of floating before they fell forward.

Talia immediately let go of Felix and lay on her back, left hand outstretched to connect her mark with the rift. As it imploded with a soft pop, Talia lay back down on the grass. She squinted up at the sky; there was something different about the Breach. Her eyes widened as it pulsed, and pain ripped through her hand as it answered with a green flash of its own.

Talia cried out and cradled her hand to her chest. What was happening? She thought the Breach had been stabilized? A stronger wave of pain throbbed through her mark. She gritted her teeth and tried to remain awake, but exhaustion and pain won out, and Talia lost consciousness.

There were no dreams, and no indication she had slept at all. When Talia woke, she was immediately alert, and she looked at her surroundings as she ascertained where she was. The shack was unfamiliar, as was the old woman standing in front of the fireplace. Talia sat up and opened her mouth to speak, but the old woman beat her to it.

“Before you attempt any murders, your equipment is on the table beside you. And you and your friend have been healed.”

Talia looked beside her, where Felix was sleeping soundly. The Tevinter's shoulder was fully healed, and he was no longer convulsing. She looked back at the old woman who still hadn't faced her, and was stirring a large pot of what Talia assumed was stew.

“Thank you for healing us, ma'am,” Talia said quietly.

“Ma'am?” The old woman cackled. “How quaint.”

“I'm very grateful to you. At least let me know the name of my savior.” Talia tried flattery, but the old woman laughed at her again.

“So you're the kind of woman who enjoys making others dance to your tune, hmmm?” She finally turned to Talia. Her face was lined, and she looked brittle, but her eyes spoke of centuries of wisdom and cunning Talia didn't often see.

“Perhaps.” She inclined her head. “But I digress, may I know your name?”

“Persistent. I like your manners, girl.” The woman grinned at her toothily. “I am known by many names, but to make matters simple, you may call me Flemeth.”

Chapter Text

Flemeth? The name niggled at Talia’s mind. Where had she heard it before?

“Thank you, Flemeth. We appreciate your help.” Talia chose her words carefully. “How did you find us?”

“How indeed?” The woman said cryptically, and Talia almost sighed. So she was one of those obscure old ninnies. Still, Talia wasn’t blind or stupid. For her to have dragged both a Tevinter and a strange-looking elf to her hut and healed them, Flemeth had to have an ulterior motive. But what was it?

“I’m uncertain how we got here…” Talia probed gently.

Flemeth cackled. “Oh, my dear girl, I have no doubt you know exactly how you got here. After all, nobody enters and exits the Fade without a purpose.”

Talia sat up straighter, and the sudden movement caused Felix to stir from his sleep. He covered his mouth as he yawned. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and looked at his surroundings in bemusement. When his eyes rested on Flemeth, he didn’t jump, but it was a near thing.

“Well, well, it seems our dear Tevinter mage is finally awake. Feeling better, boy?”

“I—yes. It seems I have you to thank, madam…?”

“Madam!” Flemeth chuckled. “You Tevinters have always been so amusing.”

“Flemeth,” Talia steered the conversation back to her original concern. “How did you know we came from the Fade?” Felix’s looked thoughtful at the mention of mage’s name.

Flemeth made a noncommittal noise at the back of her throat as she grabbed some bowls and ladled some kind of broth into it. Talia caught Felix’s eyes and shrugged.

The old woman handed the filled bowls to both of them, and Felix studied it for a moment before taking a cautious sip. Talia on the other hand, didn't touch it. Flemeth wouldn't have gone through all the trouble to heal them if she planned to kill them, but that didn't mean there was nothing in the stew.

“The essence of the Fade,” Flemeth suddenly said. “Clings to you like a second skin. And it tells a more thorough tale than the words you speak.”

Felix froze, staring wide-eyed at the old woman, the bowl still pressed to his lips.

“I see...Felix and I accidentally entered a Fade rift and ended up here,” Talia said carefully.

“May we know where we are?” Felix interjected when he regained his composure.

“You are in my home, boy.”

“Yes, but—,” There was definitely exasperation in his tone. “Where is your home? Are we still in Ferelden?” He asked, he was doing badly at masking his impatience, but Talia figured after the day he had, he was entitled to feel frustrated.

“You are deep in the Korcari Wilds.”

Talia frowned. Wasn't the Korcari Wilds the one near Ostagar? The place where most of the Grey Wardens had fallen during the Blight years ago? Then they were close to the Hinterlands, it would only take a few hours to get there.

“We aren't that far away from Redcliffe,” Felix muttered, and Talia gave him a warning look at providing Flemeth more information about them.

Talia set her bowl at the bedside table. “We thank you for your hospitality, Flemeth. But I'm afraid Felix is right. Our friends await us elsewhere, and I'm afraid we do not have the time—,”

“Ah yes,” Flemeth interrupted. “Such a fickle thing, time.”

Talia eyed her warily. “What do you mean?”

“That is for you to discover, Talia Indoril.”

Talia frowned, she wasn't sure how Flemeth knew her name. Then again, she was the most famous elf in Ferelden and Orlais.

“I will give you a few moments to collect your things. Then I shall lead you out of the woods.” With those words, Flemeth stepped out of the cottage.

“That was...confusing,” Felix commented.

Awkward silence fell as Talia was left with the mage.

“So...” Felix started to say something, but he stopped.

“Yes?” Talia prompted.

“This has been a rather strange day.”

Talia huffed in amusement. “It has been for me as well.”

“Perhaps you can explain a few things?” he suggested. “I am Felix of the House Alexius. Though I suppose you already know that.”

“My name is Talia of the Great House Indoril,” Talia said absently, and Felix's eyes narrowed slightly as she introduced herself. “Your father got in contact with us through Dorian, to mount a rescue for you before Magister Druella could burn down Redcliffe Castle.”

“Oh, Father.” Felix's expression turned sad, and Talia resisted the urge to pat him on the back. “And you helped even if you knew he was with the Venatori?”

“Alexius offered us information about Corypheus and the Venatori.”

Felix frowned. “He might not want to give it up. Did Dorian tell you why he joined them?”

“Yes. I heard that you were Tainted. And he believed Corypheus could provide the cure.”

“I've already accepted the fact that I will die.” There was no sadness in him as he said this, only resignation. “But father…”

“How long do you have?” Talia asked quietly.

“Around six months?” Felix shrugged. “If I'm lucky.”

They did not think to seek the Grey Wardens for help? Talia did not voice her thoughts. Perhaps it was something she could use to bargain with Alexius.

“Do you have any other concerns?” She changed the topic.

“I heard that you allied with the templars.” He shifted in his seat.

“What of it?” Talia's shoulders tightened.

“Are you aware that they're also working with the Elder One?”

Talia relaxed. “Yes. It's part of the reason we went to Redcliffe. We wanted to ally with the mages instead. If we didn't at least agree to meet with the templars, I was afraid they'd burn Haven to the ground.”

“Quite a smart move.”

“Don't sound too surprised,” Talia said dryly.

Felix blinked, then laughed shyly. “I meant no disrespect of course.”

Talia looked towards the door Flemeth had exited earlier. “Well, we should get going. There will be much time to talk on the road.”

She stood, eager to get away from Flemeth and her disconcerting smile. Shrugging into her armor, she pondered on what Flemeth had said. The old woman was more than she appeared, the dunmer already knew that the moment she saw her. And what was that about time being fickle?

She strapped both of her daggers to her belt and looked over at Felix, who had forgone his tattered robes and instead wore a tunic over his breeches. At first glance, he did not appear ill at all. But upon closer inspection, Talia could see he looked tired. It must be strange knowing when you'll die and accepting it with open arms. It would be best to seek the Wardens' help soon, if only to secure Dorian's and Alexius' loyalty.

After checking that they had all their equipment with them, Talia exited the cottage. She glanced around her and saw nothing but foliage. Flemeth wasn't kidding when she said they were in deep in the Korcari Wilds.

Flemeth had her back to them and was observing the Breach. Talia and Felix made their way over, both also glancing at the large tear. The Breach was no longer unstable, and her mark was no longer flaring. Talia suspected that Flemeth knew the reason for this, but the dunmer was certain her question would only be met with riddles and vague nonsense.

“Strange, is it not?” Flemeth asked, still looking at the Breach. “What a tear in the Veil could unleash on the world?”

Talia looked over at the old woman. “I suppose so.”

Flemeth tore her eyes away from the Breach and faced them. From the palms of her hand, a glowing orb formed and floated lazily in front of them. “Follow this orb, and it will lead you out of the woods.”

Talia inclined her head. “I thank you for your help, Flemeth.”

“Before you leave, a word of caution.” Flemeth looked her in the eye, and Talia felt strangely vulnerable as she did. “There are forces at work here, forces not even the Elder One fully understands.”

It was strangely the most straightforward thing Flemeth had told her. “What do you mean? Surely you're not speaking of the Maker?” Talia asked skeptically.

Flemeth laughed coldly. “The Maker? What is the Maker, but a silly superstition created by humans to give meaning to that which they never understood. No, I speak of chaos and destruction, of darkness and madness, of the sweet temptation of forbidden knowledge.”

She turned her gaze back to the Breach.

“In the horizon, I see a great darkness falling upon the land. The very foundations of this plane are crumbling. And you,” she turned to them slowly, her yellow eyes piercing through Talia. “Are instrumental in its salvation.”

“And what—pray tell, do I have to do with this?” Talia asked warily.

“You are destiny's child and fate's favorite, as you always have been, Champion of Cyrodiil.”

Talia's inhaled sharply as her title left Flemeth's lips.

“Cyrodiil?” Felix asked from behind her, confusion evident in his voice.

“How do you know that?” Talia asked dangerously.

Flemeth did not answer, and instead, stepped to the side of the hut and grabbed something from behind a pile of timber. As she turned to face them, another shock rippled through Talia.

In her hands was a staff that she was certain she'd left back at her house in Anvil.

The old woman wordlessly handed over the staff to Talia and the dunmer automatically grabbed it, sweeping her eyes over the length of it and eventually settled on the screaming faces at its end.

“What is that?” Felix asked over her shoulder. “I've never seen a staff like that.”

Wabbajack. How did it get here? Why was it here? Was this a sign telling her it actually was the Prince of Madness who had sent her here?

Her eyes flashed as she glared at Flemeth. “Where did you get this?”

When Flemeth met Talia's eyes, there was mystery in them. But in their depths, Talia could also sense a great amount of magic. It reminded her of the silent power that resided in the Tribunal. Though her own aura felt cowed at Flemeth's, Talia refused to take a step back, and continued to glare at the old woman.

Flemeth cackled, and it shattered her mysterious image. “I do believe it is now time for you to leave. You have a date with destiny, after all. Farewell, Talia Indoril. You have my sympathies.” With those parting words, Flemeth turned and walked back to her hut.

Talia wanted to grab her; hold her at knifepoint until she told her what she needed. But she was not a fool. She did not know what Flemeth was, but she was no human. The dunmer was certain that if she attacked Flemeth now, she would not survive the fight. One day, she would have her answers. But right now, there were more pressing issues.

Felix looked absolutely baffled at what was happening, and he kept on looking at the door to Flemeth's hut and back to the Wabbajack in Talia's hands.

“Why is it that the more answers we get from her, the more confused things become?” Felix said helplessly, and Talia's lips twitched in amusement.

“I have no idea what all that was about. What I do know is that we have to get back to the Inquisition. Our absence will have probably caused panic. I can explain…this,” she gestured to the Wabbajack. “—when we find the others.”

“I would appreciate some answers.” He nodded. “Lead on.”

Flemeth's glowing orb started floating away, and the two followed it. The Korcari Wilds was a dense jungle, reminding Talia of those found in Cyrodiil. She kept on batting away leaves from her face until a shimmering barrier appeared a few inches from her, shielding her from the offending foliage. Talia glanced at Felix in surprise.

He looked confused for a moment before coming to some sort of conclusion. “Ah, my apologies. I forgot that Southerners don't like casual use of magic. I had thought with you being a mage—” He made a gesture as if to dispel it, and Talia stopped him with a raised hand.

“You just caught me off-guard.” If anything, Talia was more surprised at his thoughtfulness rather than his casual use of magic. “I honestly don't mind.” She carefully did not acknowledge what he said about her being a mage.

Felix looked hesitant, but he lowered his hand and kept the barrier on both of them. “I've heard stories. Is magic in the South so feared that they'd really try to beat the magic out of their children?”

Talia gave him a sidelong glance. She was probably the wrong person to ask about it, since she hadn't been in Thedas long enough to know. “I believe so. I suppose it's fairly different in Tevinter?”

He hummed, though Talia wasn't sure if he was answering her question. “What is it like?” she prompted. The road was long, and they'd be walking around the forest for hours; she might as well satisfy her curiosity.

The man raised his eyebrow at her. “Oh you know, ritual killings, blood sacrifices, and abundant slavery.”

Talia rolled her eyes; she could definitely see why he and Dorian got along so well. “Anything that I won't find in biased accounts of the Southerners?”

The other mage looked surprised at her question. “Are you really that interested in knowing more about Tevinter? Most would only look for confirmation on what they've read about us.”

Talia shook her head. “Most people don't take cultural differences into account when looking at another country's practices. I'd like to learn more about Tevinter from someone who's actually lived there their entire lives than in a book written by a Chantry official with a holier-than-thou attitude.”

The look Felix was directing at her was nothing short of stunned and Talia raised her eyebrow in amusement. “Is it that odd? Somebody asking what Tevinter is really about?”

Felix smiled. “It is. Dorian, though, would probably be a better person to ask about our country; he's very passionate about wanting to reform it. But I'll tell you what I can.”

As they trudged through the forest, Talia learned about Tevinter's structure. As she guessed, Tevinters took pride in the richness of their traditions and culture. They used to cover the majority of Thedas, but wars and rebellions had reduced them into what they were now. Still, they stubbornly clung to their former glory, and tried hard to recapture it. Mages were the ruling class, and there were very clear social classes that divided their people. Felix, like Dorian, was an Altus, a noble. Their fathers were part of the Magisterium, which acted as the ruling body of Tevinter.

Felix looked abashed when he started talking about slavery and trafficking, and Talia was familiar with the feeling. Slavery was still legal on Morrowind, and House Indoril had their own share of slaves. There were many who supported the abolitionist’s movements, but her family was not one of them.

“I don't like slavery, I never have,” she said grimly. “But I understand why Tevinter still does it. Their society would crumble without it.” She glanced over at Felix, who still appeared rather ashamed. “We can understand it, but still condemn it. It's difficult, disagreeing with slavery but being forced to live with it. I'm sure you treat them well.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked in shock. Talia was certain he expected her to persecute him for having owned slaves.

Talia observed him, his kind eyes and soft features. Dorian was right when he said Felix was more likely to hug you than hurt you. He had a benevolent aura that had no business existing in such a ruthless place like Thedas. She looked away and shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

They came across a large bear as they were passing through a gully, and while Talia was a master sneak, Felix practically announced his presence with every step.

“If we're going to take on a bear, I might need to borrow your staff.” He looked apologetic, but also determined.

Talia opened her mouth to tell him it wouldn't work for him, but curiosity stopped her. Would the Wabbajack work for mortals that didn't exist on Nirn? She grabbed it from her back and held it out to Felix.

As he grabbed it, he twirled it experimentally, catching the bear's attention. The man didn't seem to notice as he frowned and said, “This staff can't channel my magic.”

Talia eyed the bear slowly advancing. She wasn't too worried about it, a few well-placed spells could kill it easily. “Better think fast, because that bear seems to want you for dinner,” she said calmly.

Felix spun quickly to face it, but he'd lost his balance. As he flailed, he accidentally pointed the Wabbajack in the direction of the predator. A beam of red light escaped the screaming mouth, and hit the bear, turning it into a chicken.

Talia disguised her laugh into a cough. Well, at least that answered her question.

Felix gaped at the chicken, then at Wabbajack. The dunmer coughed again as she helped the man up.

He glanced at the staff in disbelief and dropped it quickly, making Talia huff in amusement. She grabbed the Wabbajack from the ground and started walking, Felix followed after a few seconds of staring at the chicken incredulously.

“What—what was that? That magic didn't come from me!” He still looked rather dazed.

Talia wasn't sure how to explain it. “The staff has its own magic...so to speak.”

“Is that what it does? Turn anything into chickens?”

Talia tried very hard not to grin. “No. Each beam of light has an unpredictable effect. Sometimes it just gives them an annoying itch, or paralyzes them.” One time, she'd tried it on a group of Necromancers, and they exploded, showering her with viscera.

“Where did you get it then? It doesn't look ancient elven, or any kind of artifact I've ever seen.”

“It was...passed down to me,” she said haltingly. How would she explain the Aedra and Daedra to them? They might end up believing that she was consorting with Fade demons, which, to their credit, wouldn't seem too farfetched.

Felix must have sensed her hesitation, as he dropped the subject. Talia could tell he'd be asking about it again, eventually.

They arrived in the Hinterlands fairly early, but the waxing moon was already high up in the sky when Talia finally found something familiar.

“I know where we are,” Talia said when she spotted the two distinct rock formations that were the landmarks for one of the Inquisition camps. Perhaps they could rest there and have someone send a letter or a scout to the Crossroads to inform Cassandra of what happened. “One of our camps should be just around the corner.”

“Oh, thank heavens.” Felix sighed in relief.

However, as the two passed the landmark, Talia paused in her steps and took in the empty land. Where was the camp?

“Are you certain there was a camp here?” Felix asked as he knelt and examined the ground.

“Yes.” Talia frowned. She was sure there was a camp, since she and Varric had been the ones to scout the area and add it to the map. But the ground was undisturbed; there were no signs that anybody had even walked around the area.

“Perhaps we should look for one of the other camps. Do you know where the next closest one is?”

“I think we're fairly close to the Crossroads anyway. Our main camp should be there. If not, Corporal Vale could probably help us send a letter to Haven.”

They reached the hill overlooking the valley, and Talia narrowed her eyes as she saw flashes of light. When she strained her ears, she could hear the clashing of swords. What was that fighting?

The two slid down the hill and Talia ordered Felix to keep to the shadows as they approached the fighting group. There were a handful of mages and templars fighting, and a group of Inquisition scouts caught in the middle. She was certain they'd eliminated the templar-mage fighting in the area, where did these come from? Scout Harding was perched on a rock a few feet away and was shooting arrows at both sides.

When Talia and Felix joined the fray, all of them were too surprised to react. The dunmer sliced the throat of the first mage she saw and threw his staff in Felix's direction. To his credit, the mage caught it and swiftly parried a blow by an incoming templar, and with another twirl, set him on fire. With their combined attacks, the mages were eliminated, and the templars called a retreat.

As they ran off, Talia surveyed the area for any other hostiles, and when she was certain there was none, she sheathed her daggers. Harding was a bit pale as she slid from the rock, but apart from that, she looked fine as she approached Talia.

“Scout Harding,” Talia greeted, and the dwarf visibly started. Did Harding think Talia wouldn't remember her?

“Your Worship.” She bowed with a fist to her chest. “Not that I—uh—don't appreciate it, but we didn't know you were coming.”

Talia nodded, she hadn't known Harding would be in the area too. But Leliana probably dispatched her when she and Felix went missing. “How long has it been since the siege on Redcliffe? Did Cassandra and the others head back to Haven already?”

The confusion in Harding was obvious to anyone with eyes. “I'm...not sure what you mean, ma'am.”

Talia frowned. “Why did Leliana send you out here if not to look for us?” She gestured to Felix.

Harding glanced at Felix warily. “She ordered us to scout the Hinterlands, looking for places to camp and such. We sent her word that Mother Giselle is at the Crossroads, tending to the wounded. The mage and templar fighting is at its peak right now, and the people of the Hinterlands are suffering for it.”

“What?” Talia's frown deepened. “That's not possible. We eliminated the mage-templar threat months ago, on my first visit to the Hinterlands. When we met Mother Giselle.”

Harding shuffled uncomfortably. “That's...I don't think that's possible, ma'am.”

“Why not?”

“Because...” she said slowly. “When we left, you were still unconscious, ma'am. Stabilizing the Breach took a lot out of you.”

Talia's thought process halted at those words, and she stared at Harding in shock.

“What?” she asked incredulously.

“How long has it been since she stepped out of the Fade?” Felix demanded.

Harding glanced at the other two scouts with a sort of bemused and helpless air. “A week and a few days, maybe.”

“Dear Maker,” Felix breathed. “That's what father did. It actually worked.”

Talia turned her disbelieving eyes to him, and he confirmed what she'd already guessed.

“We've gone back in time.”

Chapter Text

After Felix blurted out what happened, Talia tried to control the situation. Harding and the two other scouts were utterly flabbergasted at his words, and Talia could see the panic in their eyes. She had to cast a mild calm spell to remove the tension.

“It’s been a rather long day. Maybe we can talk in your camp? Some dinner would be welcome as well,” Talia said in her most agreeable tone. Felix looked at her suspiciously when Harding and the other scouts visibly relaxed and agreed almost at once. The dunmer decided to ignore his look and instead focused on what she was going to do. There was no doubt in her mind that if she let them out of her sight, they would report everything back to Leliana. She couldn’t let that happen; at least not until she had the opportunity to speak with the Nightingale herself.

When they reached camp, the scouts started preparing supper, and Harding disappeared into one of the tents.

Talia grabbed Felix by the arm and pulled him away from the others.

“Stay out here, and keep an eye on them. Make sure none of them send any sort of reports via ravens,” she said in a low voice.

“What’s going on? What are you planning?” He frowned as she pulled away.

“We’ll talk later. I promise to explain. But for now, please trust me.”

Talia knew she’d been saying it for the past few hours, so she fully expected Felix to protest. To her surprise, he didn’t voice any complaints and merely nodded. Though, he did look quite frustrated.

She left him by the fire, where he tried to engage some of the scouts in a conversation, and she paused just before entering Harding’s tent. How did one go about convincing a scout to omit details from her report? If there was one thing Talia was certain of, most of Leliana’s agents were completely loyal to her, Scout Harding included. She didn’t know if the Nightingale had some sort of hold over them, or if they felt indebted to her. There were too many factors to consider.

Talia sighed as she realized she had no choice but to use one of her subtler spells.

She parted the tent’s flaps and found Harding seated at a desk, scribbling away. The dwarf looked up at her in surprise as she entered.

“Your Worship?” Talia observed the dwarf in front of her for a moment. There was a definite anxiousness in her eyes, though she was trying to hide it. The calm spell must already be wearing off.

“Are you busy? I was hoping I could speak with you in private,” she said quietly.

“Of course, Herald.” She tidied her desk and gestured to the seat in front of her.

Talia took the proffered seat. “I’d like to explain a few things. You must be rather confused now...I know I am.” The dunmer kept her eyes on Harding, one of her hands gesturing as she spoke, while the other, hidden from the dwarf’s sight, was preparing the spell.

“We already knew some crazy things were coming when we signed up for this job.” Harding grinned at her shyly.

Talia gave her a wry smile. “Still, time travel is a whole different animal from ‘crazy’.” It was difficult to say much while silently focusing on her spell.

Harding almost snorted. “Yeah. But even if you did explain it, I doubt I’d understand it. We aren’t exactly…magic-savvy.”

“Magic is rather confusing,” Talia agreed. She opened her clenched fist, and to her satisfaction, saw Harding’s eyes glow for a moment before turning back to normal.

Connection established. Talia almost sighed in relief and arranged her expression into a frustrated one.

The scout gave her a look of concern. “Are you all right Herald?”

Only then did Talia notice she was breathing heavily. “Yes.” She leaned back in her seat. “It’s...everything has just been rather...” She gesticulated wildly.

Harding looked at her sympathetically.

Talia smiled back weakly, dropping her hands. Wiping her brow, the dunmer sent the thoughts one by one into Harding’s mind while carrying a conversation with her.

Time magic is confusing and dangerous.

“I have a question about what happened, Your Worship.”

“Just one? Are you sure?” Talia asked in amusement.

If we know too much of the future, we could end up destroying it.

“Heh,” she chuckled. “Okay, maybe not just one. But, well, since you know what happens in the future can we y’know, change it?”

Talia shook her head. “It’s difficult to say, nobody has ever done this before. Time travel...well, we don’t know what we’ve changed just by being here.”

I should omit this entire meeting from my initial report.

“There are many theories regarding time travel, but none of them have ever been proven,” Talia sighed. “All we know is that we should tread very, very carefully.”

The Herald should explain this to Leliana herself.

Harding looked anxious. “I have to say, Your Worship, I’m kind of worried. What if we’ve already changed so much just by speaking like this and meeting?”

Talia looked down pensively, but was relieved inside. “I don’t know.”

Harding grimaced. “Maybe it’s best if we...don’t act on this information?”

“What do you mean?”

The dwarf looked torn. “You can...not tell us what happened. But, what am I going to tell Sister Leliana? If I tell her about your meeting with me, she’d ask for more details...details I can’t give.”

Talia pretended to look frustrated. “The Inquisition needs to know this. Or at the very least, Leliana.”

“I won’t be able to explain this properly, but…” The dwarf looked like she had an epiphany. “But you can, Your Worship!”

“Sorry?”

“Sister Nightingale can learn about our meeting through you! You should talk to her. You and your friend know more about time magic than we do. Maybe you can talk to her and explain more about the theories you mentioned earlier.”

“That’s all well and good. However I, or at least another version of me, am still in Haven.”

Harding’s enthusiasm dimmed, and she grimaced. “Maybe...maybe I won’t mention you in my initial report? Then, once you’re here, the other you I mean, you can go there and talk to Sister Nightingale.” She brightened. “I’ll send a letter with you. And try to explain it to her as best I can.”

“That sounds like the best plan for the moment,” Talia reluctantly agreed, slouching in her seat.

“You look knackered, Your Worship,” Harding suddenly said. The dunmer didn’t even have to feign tiredness; she was exhausted.

“For the moment, maybe Felix and I can get some food and rest? It’s been quite a day.”

“Oh yes, of course, Your Worship. I apologize for not getting you any food, I’d kinda forgot.” She grinned sheepishly. Both of them exited the tent, and with a subtle wave of her hand, Talia cancelled the connection between her and Harding’s mind.

Felix looked up from his stew as they exited. He raised his eyebrow as she plopped down to the empty space next to him and gratefully accepted the food handed to her.

“Everything all right?” Felix asked quietly.

“Quite.” Was her only response. The mage seemed to understand her hesitance to speak, and he returned to his food. The rest of dinner passed by peacefully, with the scouts keeping a respectful distance from Talia, allowing her a moment’s reprieve from a rather stressful day.

When she was done, she clapped Felix on the shoulder and stood up. The man craned his neck as he glanced at her, and Talia gave him a meaningful look before retiring to the tent Harding had assigned her.

She closed her eyes as she sat down on her bedroll. The spell she’d cast on Harding took a lot out of her, and a deep weariness settled into her bones as she sighed. Everything was a mess; it was hard enough figuring out what her next step was in a world she barely knew. But adding time magic to that mix made everything a hundred times more complicated.

A very small part of her, probably the Archmage part, was thrilled at having experienced time travel firsthand. She was genuinely impressed at all the work Dorian and Alexius put into the research, and she wished she had more time to study it. Mostly, however, she was frustrated and tired. 

Someone cleared their throat outside her tent, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“May I come in?” came Felix’s voice.

“Of course, Felix.” Talia didn’t bother getting up from her bedroll.

Felix stepped in hesitantly, his eyes surveying her small tent. When his eyes found her, he blinked once before looking away in embarrassment.

“Are you all right?” Talia asked when he didn’t say anything.

“Ah, yes.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I wanted to have that...talk. But you look fairly exhausted, we can do this tomorrow.”

His thoughtfulness brought a small smile to Talia’s lips. While she appreciated the sentiment, she did owe Felix some answers.

“I can rest after. Let’s just go straight to it. What do you want to know?”

Felix looked skeptical. “Just like that? You’ll give me the answers I need?”

“You’ve earned it,” she said. The seriousness in her voice made Felix pause and look at her in surprise. She gestured to the space in front of her. “I don’t have a chair to offer, but have a seat anyway.”

The mage sat down tentatively, and Talia looked him over. He looked as tired as she felt, but dinner had given him some energy.

“If you’re sure?”

Talia’s lips twitched in amusement. “Yes, I am.”

“All right. Well, I suppose I’d first like to know, well, what are you? And where do you come from? How did you get here?” He looked embarrassed at blurting out so many questions at once, but Talia didn’t mind.

On their journey from Flemeth’s, Talia had a long time to ponder on her situation with Felix. Originally, she’d wanted both him and Alexius on her team helping her find a way back to Nirn. Their magical expertise would be invaluable. Naturally, she’d have to inform them of her unique...background. She didn’t expect to do it so soon, but she needed Felix’s help if they were to survive this ordeal.

“...What do you know about other worlds?” She finally asked.

Felix’s jaw slackened. “Are you telling me you’re from another world?” He looked disbelieving, then thoughtful. “Actually, that would explain so many things about you.”

Talia chuckled. Felix being a mage probably made it easier for him to accept these things. “My name is Talia Indoril. I am a dunmer, a dark elf. I hail from the province of Morrowind, in the country of Tamriel, in a world called Nirn.” She looked away from Felix’s increasingly widening eyes. “As to how I got here, I entered something we call an Oblivion portal. It was supposed to take me somewhere else, but for some reason I still don’t know, I ended up in the Fade.”

“That...just...gave me more questions,” Felix said slowly as he processed her information. “But maybe we can talk about the other details at a later date. What’s an Oblivion portal?”

Talia leaned back as she tried to explain. “Oblivion is a...realm of existence separate from the mortal world, Nirn. Oblivion is where daedra reside. Daedra,” she added, seeing Felix open his mouth to ask. “are immortal beings that populate the planes of Oblivion. They have hierarchy, like us, and the most powerful of them, the Daedric Princes, are those who rule over their own planes.”

“What made you want to enter the portal? I mean, it sounds quite dangerous. Are there any adverse effects to entering such a plane?” Felix looked like a child who’d just stumbled upon the largest pile of sweet rolls he’d ever seen in his life. He looked so eager to learn about their world that Talia couldn’t help but try to explain it to him.

“It generally depends on which Daedric prince we’re dealing with. Others are inherently...evil, for lack of a better term. And there are some like Azura, the Prince of Dawn and Dusk, who are considered ‘good’.” She shifted in her seat. “As for the portal I was entering, it was from Sheogorath, the Prince of Madness. He’s been known to mess with mortals at times, but he doesn’t pose as an immediate threat to Nirn. However, after the Oblivion Crisis...” she shut her mouth with a clack as she realized what she’d said. Clearly, the weariness had made her mouth disconnect from her brain.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s all right.” Felix said, but his voice was brimming with curiosity.

Talia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Let’s just keep this between us all right?” At Felix’s nod, she continued. She gave him a brief background on Akatosh, the Amulet of Kings, and the Dragonfires. She told him that the death of the emperor and his heirs meant that nobody could light the Dragonfires, allowing Mehrunes Dagon to open his portals and lay siege to Cyrodiil. She spoke with a strange tone of detachment as she told him about Martin Septim, the Blades and the Hero of Kvatch. He didn’t need to know it was her, and she spoke of the Hero as if she were a different person.

Felix looked utterly fascinated, and he had a lot of questions about the Mysterium Xarxes and the ritual that they did to open the path to Paradise, and Talia humored him. When she reached the end, speaking about how Martin used the Amulet of Kings, and how the Hero of Kvatch was given the honor of being the seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, Felix gasped.

“What?” Talia asked in confusion

“You did all that?”

“What?” she repeated dumbly.

“Flemeth called you the Champion of Cyrodiil,” he reminded her, and Talia resisted the urge to smack herself. “That’s you...isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she laughed bitterly. “That’s me.” She took a deep breath, and when she met Felix’s eyes, she was taken aback. He didn’t look like he was meeting a celebrity; he didn’t look at her as if she was a hero. His dark eyes were full of sympathy, and Talia had to look away from such kindness.

“I suppose it makes more sense now that you were the one they sent to check on the Oblivion portal by this...god of madness,” Felix changed the subject, and Talia grasped onto it gratefully.

“It wasn’t only that,” she paused. Well, he already knew she was a mage, there was no need to hide it. “I am the...Archmage of the Cyrodiil Mages Guild.”

At this Felix gaped. “You must be an extremely accomplished mage, to be Archmage at such a young age.”

Talia raised an eyebrow. “How old do you think I am?”

Felix gave her a scrutinizing look before he shrugged. “Late twenties? Early thirties maybe, but it’s a bit of a stretch.”

Talia chuckled, but didn’t elaborate when Felix furrowed his brow at her. He didn’t need to know she was older than his father. “Because of these unique qualifications, I decided to investigate the portal myself. And well…” She looked to the side, where she’d placed the Wabbajack. “I’ve had dealings with Sheogorath before.”

Felix followed her gaze and did a double take. “That staff is from him? No wonder its effects are so unpredictable. What’s it called again? The Warbler?”

Snorting, Talia corrected him. “The Wabbajack.”

“Yes that.” He shook his head. “I fondly recall the time I accidentally turned a bear into a chicken. It feels like it was yesterday, even if it happened just a few hours ago.”

Talia grinned at him, and she didn’t even have to fake it. “Yes, the way you flailed as you slipped on that tree root will forever be embedded in my memory.”

The two shared a laugh over it. It was strange how she felt completely at ease with him, even if they barely knew each other. Perhaps it was a combination of how kind he was, and how she was too tired to keep up her facade.

“Going back to your story though. How did you get out of the Fade?”

Talia hesitated, unsure if she should tell Felix what really happened. In the end, she decided against it. “I don’t fully remember. There was something chasing me, a bright light at the end of the stairs, and a woman reaching out to me.”

“Most assume that she was Andraste, correct?”

“It’s how I was given the title Herald.” She nodded.

“And what did the rest of the Inquisition think about it? I would think the Left and Right Hands of the Divine had something to say about it? How did they take your arrival?”

Talia recalled Cassandra’s rage and Leliana’s cold eyes. “Very badly.”

“Is that why you asked me to keep an eye out for any reports being sent?” He asked.

“At this point, they know nothing about me. I kept quiet almost the entire time we were stabilizing the Breach. I understand that I am the most solid lead they had on figuring out the Divine’s death, even if I truly had no hand in it. And I look strange, different. I appeared at such an inconvenient time that they had no choice but to put the blame on me. They don’t trust me; they can’t.

“If Harding tells Leliana that I’m running around the Hinterlands with a Tevinter, she would demand answers. And it would only serve to put a strain on our already weak working relationship.”

“How did you even convince her not to include you in their reports?” He looked at her in askance.

Talia sighed. “I cast a spell on her.”

“A coercion spell?” he narrowed his eyes at her.

“No.”

“A compulsion spell then?”

“No.”

“What was it then?” He sounded tense, and Talia realized he thought she must have used the dreaded blood magic yet again.

“I didn’t use blood magic,” she replied calmly.

“I didn’t say—,”

“You’re implying it.” She gave him a hard look, and he had the grace to look a bit ashamed. “It was a spell that allowed me to transmit a few ideas into her head. Once you plant that seed, it grows on its own; the idea branches out, and she comes up with her own thoughts based on it.”

“What’s the point of only putting in ideas? Why not just compel her to do something?”

“Because this way, it’s undetectable. Harding’s reasoning is her own, her thoughts are her own. It’s impossible to find out that someone had planted these ideas in her mind, especially since I pretended to talk her out of it.” She shrugged. “Even if Leliana suspects I did something, she’d know it was fully Harding’s plan and decision.”

“...I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to.” Talia resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“It is quite brilliant, though,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I’ve never heard of any spell like that.”

Of course he hadn’t, she’d invented it after all. There was an uncomfortable silence, before Felix spoke again.

“So where do we go from here?”

“I intend to speak with Leliana after my other-self, if she’s still there, leaves Haven. Other than that, I’m not entirely sure.”

“I’m sure your other self is still there. As is mine,” he said confidently.

“What makes you so certain?”

“Are you familiar with any time travel theories?”

Talia looked down pensively. “There are a few. Time magic was never my area of expertise, so I rarely studied it. There were three main ones. The first was that you reversed everything that happened, a clean slate, so to speak, and you can change the future into something new. In that theory, you return to your earlier consciousness, as there’s only ever one of you in every instance. The second is returning in a separate body. However, every action you take only leads to the same output—the same future. You cannot change what has already happened. The third is similar to the second, except that you can change things, since you’re a separate entity from the you in that timeline.”

Felix nodded. “It’s quite obvious that we didn’t return to our earlier consciousness. If that were so, you’d be in Haven, and I’d be on a ship on my way here. So, we can take out the first theory. We’d just have to verify whether we can actually change things or not. However, I’m inclined to believe we can’t.”

Talia rubbed her chin. “It would be more convenient if that were the case,” she said. “But in any event, perhaps it’s better if we stay away from our other selves and let things happen.” She doubted they’d be able to do so. Knowing herself, she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to try and change a few things. But it didn’t hurt to try, she supposed.

“What are we going to do then? We can’t hide under a rock for the next four months,” he said wryly.

“No,” Talia agreed. “We’re going to use this extra time to recruit.”

“Recruit? For the Inquisition?” he asked.

“We need better defense from the templar threat and Corypheus. When we left for Redcliffe, a small group of templars were already on their way to Haven. I don’t know if they were planning to launch an assault after that.”

“It’s true, we do need more people.” Talia noticed how Felix lumped himself together with the Inquisition without batting an eye. “But how are we going to go about it? We can’t send them to Haven, Sister Leliana, as you said, would be suspicious. Where would we go that both the Elder One’s forces and the Inqusition’s won’t find us?”

Talia smiled as a thought occurred to her. “I have an idea.”

She was going to see if Fen’Harel’s words had any truth to them. It was time to pay a visit to Skyhold.

Chapter Text

“Dear Maker, how much further do we have to go?” Felix muttered.

Talia looked over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. “I did tell you we’d be scouring the Frostbacks for this place.”

The man looked truly miserable, knee-deep in snow and shivering. The weather in the Frostback Mountains was horrible. Both were already swathed in furs that put Cullen’s coat to shame, and yet the cold air still seeped to their bones. In truth, Talia was surprised that it was the first complaint she’d ever heard from Felix. They’d been trudging around the mountains for days, looking for Fen’Harel’s mysterious fortress. Talia would have been complaining too...had it not been her idea in the first place.

After her talk with Harding, Talia and Felix had spent a few days in the Hinterlands planning what to do and familiarizing themselves with each other’s fighting style. Felix heavily favored defensive magic, and was particularly skilled in healing. While Talia, still mindfully not using her magic around the scouts, stuck with her daggers and throwing knives.

In the brief time they’d spent together, Talia discovered that Felix was a font of information. They had spent majority of the time talking, not just about their plans, but mundane things as well—his fondness for fruits, her humble alchemy shack in Imperial City, curse words in Tevene and Dunmeri, the list went on. He was well-versed in politics as well, something Talia hadn’t expected of him. When he apprised her of political happenings in Orlais and Tevinter, Talia had raised her eyebrows in surprise, and he had looked back at her in amusement.

“I’m the heir to my father’s seat in the Magisterium,” he had reminded her.

Scout Harding had been incredibly supportive of her too. She’d provided whatever Talia needed—be it provisions or information. The young woman carried out her requests enthusiastically. Before they’d left, she handed over the letter to be given to Leliana, and had nervously wished her luck on her journey.

Felix sighed. “I know. I’m hoping we come across it soon.”

“Do you want to rest for a moment?” Talia frowned as she looked over the mage. He did look pale, and the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced, but she had assumed it was because of the cold.

“I’m all right,” he said stubbornly. “I can rest when we get to Skyhold.” He started climbing up the slope they were on and Talia shook her head at him as he passed her. She cast a rejuvenation spell on him, and followed after. As he reached the peak, he paused in his steps and Talia only just managed to stop herself from falling backwards at his sudden stop.

“Felix?” she asked in worry.

“I know you said it was a fortress, but I didn’t expect this.” He sounded incredulous, and Talia leaned to the side to get a better view of what he was looking at.

Balanced on a leveled mountain ridge sat a large keep, bounded by high stone walls. There seemed to be only one long bridge connecting the main mountain pass and the keep, and Talia wondered how on Nirn they were able to build such a place. Magic was involved, surely.

The two found the least steep slope and slid down. Talia gracefully landed on her feet at the bottom; Felix, on the other hand, slipped and lost his footing mid-way and ended up rolling down. When his head popped out of the snow, Talia had to bite her lip to prevent herself from smirking. The man scowled at her as he stood and dusted himself off.

“Not a word,” he said in warning, and Talia raised her hands.

As they approached the long stone bridge leading to the fortress, Talia observed the structure to determine its sturdiness, while Felix passed his hands over the stones lightly.

“Strange,” he muttered from where he was crouched.

“Something wrong?”

“The magic in these stones feels...old, ancient even.”

Talia wasn’t attuned to Fade magic as her own world’s, but she felt the familiar thrumming of protective magic emanating from the structure.

“We can study it at a later date.” Talia turned and started walking towards the entrance. “The bridge doesn’t seem like it’s going to collapse with our additional weight. Let’s move on.”

The metal gate was closed, but being centuries old, it had weathered enough for Talia to disintegrate a section of it and step inside.

The keep was not in good shape.

The ground was overgrown with foliage, and vines crept along the stone parapets. The outer walls had, thankfully, survived the elements, but the same couldn’t be said about most of Skyhold. She and Felix cautiously climbed the steps that led to a large hall, and everywhere they looked, there were piles of rubble. Three of the four towers were impassable, as large sections of the stairs were destroyed. They climbed the fourth one, and Felix almost ended up falling to his death when they opened the door at the top and the floor beneath him gave way as he stepped out.

The two decided to stick to exploring the lower sections of Skyhold.

The six doors in the main hall led to different areas of the keep, and they spent most of the time trying to decide what to do with which area.  The first room they entered seemed to be the study of whichever lord or lady last used the keep. There was a large desk and a dusty plush chair in the middle of the room, and the sides were lined with derelict bookshelves. The fireplace looked like it hadn’t been used since the First Era.

“The amount of dust in here is overwhelming.” Felix coughed as he opened the window and used whatever knowledge he had of elemental magic to summon wind and siphon most of the dust out of the room.

Talia examined the shelves. Most of the books crumbled at touch, but the few that didn’t disintegrate held journals about warding and protective magic.

“Any hint as to whom this keep used to belong?” Felix asked as Talia went through the desk’s drawers.

“Definitely a mage,” Talia said with certainty as she examined some of the documents left behind. One of them was filled with sketches of runes, most of which, Felix noted, were for enchanting staves. They decided to put off reading the journals and documents until they found an archivist to bind them.

As they moved on to other sections of Skyhold, Felix jotted down their ideas for each area—the kitchens, barracks, smithy, stables, dungeons and so on. They came across the rotunda, which housed the old library. Sadly, most of the books were waterlogged and unreadable. They would need someone to go through all of them to see if there were any that were salvageable.

At the end of the day, the two returned to the study and lit the fireplace. Talia and Felix combined their magical knowledge and placed several wards throughout Skyhold to warn them of any intruders.

“I doubt anybody’s going to actually come barging in,” Felix said wryly. “Considering this place has been abandoned for hundreds of years, at least.”

“You can never be too careful,” Talia replied, but was thinking of Fen’Harel, the elf who had brought them here in the first place. She ended up not telling him the truth of how she discovered Skyhold, only saying that Solas suggested it. She wasn’t certain how receptive he would be to her saying, ‘An ancient elven god decided to give me the fortress and allude to my role in some greater scheme’. While she enjoyed his company, their fledgling friendship wasn’t quite there yet.

She handed Felix some of the cured meat that Harding had prepared for them as she started preparing a simple soup to warm them both. While she wasn’t a very good cook, Talia knew at least a few dishes to ensure her survival in the odd event that she be stranded in the wild.

Felix, however, was another story. Like most nobles, he knew next to nothing about surviving the wilderness. Talia personally blamed his father’s protectiveness. Although, she knew that had she not left Morrowind, she would likely know nothing about it as well.

Talia stirred the soup and took a sip. When she was satisfied that it tasted passable, she ladled some into the bowls they’d brought with them and handed one to Felix.

“Thank you, this is perfect for the horrid weather,” he said as he reached for the bowl. “So, what are your thoughts on Skyhold so far?”

Talia spooned some soup in her mouth as she contemplated her answer. “In some ways, it’s perfect for the Inquisition. It’s isolated, defensible and protected by magic.”

“But you were hoping for something more intact?” he guessed.

“It’s going to take a lot of time and resources to rebuild Skyhold. Something we don’t have. Not yet at least.”

Felix made a noncommittal sound. “Are we heading for Haven next?”

Sighing, Talia nodded. “I need to speak to Leliana about the situation. As I’ve mentioned, she’s the one least likely to kill me out of all of them.”

“Perhaps you should consider informing your ambassador. Josephine was it?” he paused, as if waiting for Talia’s approval, and when she glanced up at him from her food, he continued. “From what I understand, Josephine has the means to gather donations and sponsorships from various nobles. She handles everything dealing with partnerships, finances and goodwill. We would need her if we’re considering clearing out the rubble and restoring Skyhold.”

“The idea has merit,” Talia said slowly. She hadn’t thought of informing Josephine, since she’d thought telling Leliana was bad enough, and they didn’t need another complication. But Felix was right. She couldn’t very well go around and look for architects, engineers and workers; she wouldn’t even know where to begin, let alone cut a good deal from them.

“And from what little you’ve told me, Josephine is quite reasonable?” he asked more than said.

“More reasonable than Cassandra or Cullen,” she amended.

“She won’t kill you at least,” he commented drily, and Talia’s lips twitched in amusement.

“You never know,” she quipped, and Felix huffed in amusement.

Comfortable silence settled in between them, and Talia took the opportunity to contemplate her situation. While she would likely never say it out loud, she was grateful for Felix’s presence; she wouldn’t know what she would have done if she’d time-travelled alone. She observed him as he stared into the fire, the warm glow illuminating his face.

It was strange how easy it was to be around him. He was curious about her and Nirn, but he never prodded or pushed when she was uncomfortable with a topic. There was a kindness in him as well, the type that came to him naturally.  He wasn’t even sunny and cheerful; instead, there was quiet contentment in his features, as if he were at peace with himself. Despite the unfortunate circumstances befalling him, the man simply accepted reality and moved on. And, in spite of herself, Talia admired him for that, which is why she’d included finding a cure to his sickness a priority on her to-do list.

She reached for her pack and pulled out her journal, and the sound of crinkling paper seemed to jerk Felix out of his reverie. When they’d started planning, Felix had suggested they write everything down to keep track of their goals. Of course, he’d ended up writing it, when she remembered she couldn’t write in their language.

On the top of their list was ‘Find Skyhold’ and she took out her quill and ink and crossed that out.

“So what’s next on our agenda?” Felix leaned forward to get a better look at their list.

They wrote down their priorities in no particular order, but Talia thought the most pressing matters were recruiting more allies to combat the templars, and finding Savith Stormcrown.

Looking for allies was likely easier; the Dragonborn had proved elusive. If Leliana, with all her resources couldn’t find the dunmer, how would Talia?

“Do you have any ideas where we’d be able to find the Warden? Leliana told me the King hinted that she had some business North, likely in Tevinter.”

Felix shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine. But I suppose if she’s in Tevinter, she’s looking for information on the Old Gods.”

“Perhaps finding a way to prevent the last two Blights...” Talia said thoughtfully. She remembered reading there were only two more Old Gods left. “If she’s in Tevinter, then it isn’t likely that I’ll be able to get in touch with her. She’d want to know that people from Nirn are looking for her.”

Talia had told Felix about what happened when they were in the Fade. He seemed rather disappointed he’d been unconscious for the entire thing. Felix had readily agreed to aid her in researching a way back to Nirn, but had said that it would be best to put it off until the Breach was sealed, and the Inquisition had a better base. He also pointed out that Dorian would be more than happy to help, and reluctantly, he also suggested his father.

“My family has contacts across Thedas, not as much as Dorian’s, but I can ask them to keep an eye out for the Warden.”

“Can you also ask them for resource materials regarding the First Blight? Or any accounts about the seven mages that entered the Fade.”

“Of course.”

“Do you think any members of the Magisterium would ally with the Inquisition?”

Felix shook his head. “Highly unlikely. At least not until the Inquisition has proven itself. I assure you that if you manage to seal the Breach, they’ll be begging for your attention.”

“Wonderful. Now, all we have to do is figure out how to tell Leliana about our...unfortunate circumstances,” she said wryly.

“I’m not sure how to go about it,” he shook his head forlornly. “Dorian’s much better at things like this than I am.”

Talia tried to imagine how Dorian would go about it. They’d probably end up burned at the stake.

“He would probably start with an annoying diatribe about Ferelden hospitality if the reception was less than favorable,” Felix continued. “And when asked who he is he’d act all affronted that they don’t know his name, puff up his chest and introduce himself in the most obnoxious way possible.”

That pulled a chuckle out of Talia. “That’s almost exactly what happened when he came to Haven.”

Felix’s smiled dimmed. “Father must have been truly desperate to have asked Dorian for help.”

“Did they have a falling out? Dorian told me he used to be your father’s apprentice?” Talia asked curiously.

Felix rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

“You don’t have to answer that question. I’m sorry if I brought up unpleasant memories.”

“No, it’s all right.” he sighed. “After mother died, and I was Tainted, Father...changed.” He stared at the fireplace as he spoke. “He dropped all of his research and paid no attention to anything but me. Dorian was working on his Mastery in Necromancy, and he and Father were researching ways to use ambient spiritual energy in enchantments. But Father focused all his attention in looking for ways to cure the Blight. He didn’t even notice when Dorian finished the research by himself. I think the last straw was the invitation to the Venatori. I wasn’t ever sure what words were exchanged, Dorian never told me, but I knew Father hurt him.”

“You blame yourself,” Talia said more than asked.

Felix gave a rueful laugh but shook his head. “Part of the blame rests on me, as I wasn’t careful enough during that fight. Seeing mother go down made me...reckless,” he admitted. “But it wasn’t anyone’s fault but the darkspawn. I wish Father could see it that way.”

“He’s probably still blaming himself for being unable to protect you. He’s your father; he believes it his job to do so.”

“It doesn’t seem to matter that I’m a grown man, and can make decisions for myself.”

“I suppose there’s little that parents wouldn’t do for their children,” Talia commented.

“Was it like that with you as well?”

“With what?”

“With your parents?”

Felix raised his head to glance at her when she was quiet for too long. Before he could apologize, Talia waved away his concerns.

“It’s no problem, I just haven’t thought about them in a while.” She paused as she thought of what to say. Her parents weren’t particularly warm people, and Talia had always believed that they viewed her more of as an investment or offering to the Tribunal than anything else. They never hated her, and she didn’t resent them, but she never felt the kind of familial love she did with the Brotherhood.

“I ran away from my home and my duties when I was younger. I never cared for the religion, and House Indoril was too steeped in dogmatic beliefs that I felt stifled.” She propped an elbow on her thigh and hooked her hand under her chin. “So, I ran. I dropped my House name, and changed my first name to make it harder for them to trace me. After a few years, I realized no one was coming to get me. Perhaps a part of me always wanted them to come look for me, to matter I suppose. To see how much I meant to them.”

“I’m sorry,” Felix said sympathetically.

Talia shook her head. “The thing is, they never disowned me. That was a sign that I was free to come back, should I wish it. I think not sending someone after me was their blessing to go off and do whatever I want with my life.”

“Do you regret it?” Felix asked quietly.

“Running away?” Talia thought of her siblings’ cold glares and her parents’ disapproval, in contrast to Ocheeva’s warm eyes, Gogron’s bear hugs, and Vicente’s patient smile. “Never.”

The fierceness in her response seemed to surprise Felix, but he recovered quickly and offered a soft smile. “I suppose you found happiness in...Cyrodiil was it?”

Once she started thinking about her Family, it was a slippery slope, and Talia had to close her eyes at the onslaught of memories.

“Yes,” and despite her efforts to make her response sound natural, Felix still picked up on the tension.

“Are you all right?”

“You bring me such pride, dear Sister.”

A warm hand pats her cheek. Eyes crinkling in happiness.

“Talia!”

“That thing you did with Phillida, a work of art, truly!”

A thump on her back. His huge grin splitting his face.

“You...ah. Purification.”

His eyes held nothing but understanding.

“Talia!”

Crimson-stained robes.

Blood on her hands.

“Talia!”

A hand grasped her shoulder and snapped her out of her memories. She only just managed to stop herself from lashing out at Felix, who looked at her in a mix of shock and concern.

“I...perhaps we should rest. We have much to do,” Talia quickly looked away and busied herself with setting aside her paper and ink.

Felix, thankfully, dropped the topic and silently helped with putting away their things.

“Talia...” he started when they had both settled in their bedrolls.

“Good night, Felix.” Talia determinedly looked away from him.

There was a pause before he spoke softly. “Good night, Talia.”

Talia lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as her mind swirled with memories. It was difficult not to step into the trap of blame and guilt, and she tried to busy her mind with something else besides...that.

It had been a while since she thought of Lukas and everybody she’d left behind in Nirn. How long had it been for them? Were they looking for her? Or did they find someone to replace her? Modryn would probably have already sent out a search team, as well as Raminus.

With a pang of sadness, Talia realized that she missed them. She missed Modryn’s dry wit, Raminus’ fatherly advice, and—Sithis help her—she even missed Ocato’s pestering.

But most of all, she missed Lukas.

He was the only person she trusted implicitly, and she was always certain of his loyalties. He knew everything about her, she could be herself around him. There was a feeling of safety and security when she was with him.

She never felt safe in this world. Not with Leliana, Varric, not even with Felix.

But she could...if she allowed herself to. Except that it was a horrible idea.

It was bad enough that she started getting attached to Varric, but Felix was slowly worming his way into her heart as well. When she first arrived in this world, she promised herself that if she were ever given a chance to head back to Nirn even before the Breach was closed, she’d take the chance and abandon them all to their fate.

Now, she wasn’t too sure.

Talia wasn’t sure how long she’d spent staring at the ceiling, before succumbing to sleep.

“Many believe that the branch of Illusion is useless, pointless, a waste of magical talent.” Talia allowed her voice to carry across the room, and watched as the wide-eyed apprentices clung to her every word. Raminus had insisted that she hold lectures about Illusion magic for the newly inducted members of the University. While she had more important things to do, she did agree that she was one of the few that were qualified to do so.

“Most only see the first layer of Illusion—invisibility, silencing, manipulation—and deem it less important. And yet—there is subtlety in Illusion that is absent in other schools of magic.” Talia continued describing the uses of Illusion magic, as well as the research she produced for her Mastery.

“Does anybody have any questions...” Talia had barely finished her question when almost all hands shot up in the air. And in a wry tone, she continued, “Not related to the Oblivion Crisis?”

Almost all hands dropped, and the apprentices looked rather disappointed. Talia only just stopped herself from rolling her eyes. Children.

“I have a question,” spoke a familiar voice from the back of the room. When Talia turned to the person speaking, she had to groan.

She was in the Fade. Again.

The world around them dissolved as Talia realized where she was, and the elf slowly approached her.

“How fascinating,” he said as he observed her. The usual wolf mask was on his face, leaving only his lips visible, but he was wearing robes today instead of his tarnished armor. As he walked towards her, the Fade shifted into a serene courtyard with soft grass and beautiful blooming trees.

“What is it you want this time?” Talia asked tightly.

She couldn’t see his face, but she was certain he was raising an eyebrow at her. “Curious.”

Sithis spare me from gods who love their vague nonsense. Talia rubbed her forehead in annoyance. “If you do not have anything else to say, Fen’Harel, it would be greatly appreciated if thy greatness would extricate himself from my dreams, thank you.”

He stopped in his steps as he observed her, and Talia raised her chin as she stared right back at him.

“How curious for you to say that. You allude to a time when we had spoken before. And yet...I have no memory of ever meeting you.”

Talia paused. Of course. Fen’Harel hadn’t met her, yet. However, if his powers didn’t transcend time, did that mean he wasn’t actually a god, but a mortal pretending to be one?

“What was your question?”

He tilted his head to the side as he watched her curiously. “I wish to know how you found Tarasy’lan Te’las, and what it is you are doing there.”

“Oh, so you don’t know? How, unfortunate,” Talia replied silkily, and her lip twitched when his eyes narrowed.

“I would hazard a guess and say that it was I who revealed this to you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I am likely the only one who knows of its existence,” he replied, and Talia looked at him sharply but didn’t correct him. Was he unaware of Solas?

“Indeed,” she confirmed and said nothing else even as Fen’Harel stared her down. Did he think himself intimidating?

“And? How is it that I remember nothing of this encounter?”

“Forgive my ignorance, but are you not the god? If anybody should have answers, it should be you, not me.”

Fen’Harel was making an effort to keep his face blank, Talia could tell.

“Ah, perhaps it is also the reason you are in Skyhold, and yet also in the Hinterlands?”

Now, it was Talia’s turn to frown. Why was he always so knowledgeable about both the mark and her movements?

“Is it more of your illusion magic, then?”

She glanced away instead of answering his question and something caught her eye. There was a raven perched on the branch in the tree above them, and after a while, another joined it, and Talia had to raise an eyebrow at how out of place they seemed.

“The world where you’re from seems to be a vastly different place.” He was fishing for information. Talia knew that he would keep entering her dreams and learning about Nirn, and unless she found a way to guard her mind, she was extremely vulnerable.

Two more ravens settled on the tree branch and Talia had a strange feeling that they were watching them.

“Do you have a fascination with ravens?” Talia looked away from them to ask him, and Fen’Harel looked thrown for a moment.

“Ravens?” he looked up, and the slight parting of his lips indicated that he was surprised. When Talia looked back up, she started as well. There were dozens of ravens now, all looking down at them expectantly.

“Something is...” he paused, and the ravens flew down from their perch and extended their talons to attack him. His eyes widened, and he disappeared.

When he did, the world was plunged into darkness. It wasn’t oppressive, and it felt rather familiar. It wasn’t the Void, but rather, an amalgamation of shadows.

“Gray Fox,” came the curt greeting, and Talia turned around to face the Daedric Prince of Shadows. While she knew they had no gender, Nocturnal appeared in a vision of a woman, swathed in fine, dark robes.

“Lady Nocturnal.” Talia bent on one knee. “Thank you for interceding.” She always knew that it paid to be reverent and polite to the Princes.

“It seems even outside of Nirn, mortals still have the arrogance to masquerade as gods.” She wondered if she imagined the disgust in Nocturnal’s voice.

“Mortal?” Talia asked. So it was true, this Fen’Harel was no god.

“You have been remiss in your duties,” Nocturnal said instead, her calculating eyes watching her.

Talia inclined her head. “I apologize, my Lady. But I have no way of returning to Nirn as of the moment. If there is anything I can do here in this world to gain your favor—,”

“You are already mine, Talia Indoril.”

Nocturnal already knew that while Talia was pledged to her service as her champion, Sithis had a larger claim to her soul, but she stayed silent instead of pointing it out.

“But, I do have a task for you. If you are still my champion?”

Ah, there it was. Why the Daedric Princes could never be straightforward, Talia would never know. Nocturnal’s words sounded mocking, but she answered anyway. “Always, my Lady.”

“I require you to recover something of mine that has gone...missing.”

Talia blinked in surprise. “You have...lost an artifact on this world, my Lady?”

“Not an artifact. A soul pledged to my service.”

“The Dragonborn.” Talia suddenly remembered that the dunmer was a Nightingale. “But, my Lady, the Fade connects all. You may be able to contact her in the same way as you did me.”

“Do you believe me foolish, Gray Fox?” Noctural responded coldly, and Talia had to inwardly cringe at her misstep. “There is something festering in my Nightingale, and I cannot reach her mind.”

“And what is it you wish me to do, my lady?” Talia asked cautiously.

“Find her, and discover a way to rid her of this illness. The Evergloam awaits her arrival.”

Talia wondered what it was like to be so popular with the Princes. She was almost certain most of them had made a bid for the Dragonborn’s soul.

“Would you know her location, my Lady?”

“Speak to the dwarven people in the Mountains. She is in the roads beneath the earth.”

Finally, a lead. Talia thought in excitement.

She had so many questions: how did she enter the Fade? Why is she only contacting her now? But Nocturnal wasn’t known for her patience, and so Talia stilled her tongue.

“It will be done, my Lady.” Talia bowed her head.

“He is here as well.”

Talia frowned at the Prince’s words. He? He who?

“My Lady?”

Nocturnal met her eyes, and Talia felt cowed. “He has made it his goal to obtain your soul.”

A chill settled in her gut. “My soul will go to the Void.” She answered instead.

“You would make an adequate Nightingale.” Nocturnal stared down at her.

So that was what this was about; she was trying to find a way to snatch Talia’s soul from Sithis. Being a Nightingale was more hassle than it was worth, protecting the Ebonmere and the Twilight Sepulcher, in life and in death. Plus, her family was in the Void. She would not risk Mother’s ire by agreeing to this deal.

However, she would be a fool to antagonize Nocturnal.

So she bowed her head. “Thank you for your generous offer, Lady Nocturnal. However, nothing can be done until I am able to return to Nirn.”

Nocturnal scrutinized her for a moment before speaking. “Sheogorath was right in sending you to this world.”

“What?” Talia said dumbly.

“Go, Gray Fox. You will find the Shadows working in your favor.”

When Talia opened her eyes, she was back in their room in Skyhold. Felix was still in his bedroll, tossing and turning. She rubbed her temples in confusion.

What was that? At first, Talia was certain that Nocturnal was trying to get a hold of her soul. There was also the entire business with the Dragonborn. A task to locate her and cure the Blight? It was strange, even for Nocturnal. And then she’d mentioned Sheogorath... As she sat up, something slid from her chest. With no small amount of curiosity, she examined it.

The Gray Cowl.

And beneath it, The Skeleton Key.

First Sheogorath, then Nocturnal. What in Oblivion did they want with her?

Chapter Text

For the past few days that they had journeyed together, Talia and Felix had gotten along splendidly. The two had a common goal and both agreed with their plan to achieve it. This meant, however, that their first disagreement had taken Talia by surprise.

The two had already started climbing down from the Frostbacks and was on their way to Haven when Felix spoke up.

“What will I be doing while you’re talking with the Nightingale and your ambassador?” He asked as they stopped for a quick lunch.

Talia furrowed her brow. “You’ll be there explaining with me, I assume.”

Felix looked away contemplatively. “I think you’d have better chances of success if you didn’t bring me. I could stay at the Crossroads in the meantime, Harding will be able to—,”

Her blood turned to ice in her veins, and she didn’t hear the rest of his statement.

“No.”

Felix blinked at her. “Sorry?”

“I said, ‘No.’” Talia repeated coolly.

To her surprise, Felix didn’t back down. He straightened his back and narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean ‘no’? You haven’t even heard what I was suggesting.”

“I am not leaving you.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “You know I can take care of myself. And Harding will be there. I’m not an invalid because I’m sick.”

Talia looked away. Her decision had nothing to do with Felix’s fighting skills; he can protect himself. But it was that inherent wariness and cautiousness inside Talia that made it difficult for her to trust anybody. She couldn’t help but think he was setting this up as a way to leave and run back to his father.

“What’s the problem?” He sounded frustrated now. “You know you can’t sneak me into Haven in whatever way you’re planning to enter. Even if you cast an invisibility and muffling spell on me, I am incapable of sneaking. And they’d be more willing to talk to you if you go alone rather than bringing me, a Tevinter mage.”

“I’m not letting you out of my sight,” she said with a tone of finality.

Felix was quiet as they broke camp, and Talia brushed off the twinge of guilt she felt. For the first time since they traveled together, there was only stony silence between them. And while Talia usually preferred staying quiet during the journey, she found that she had gotten used to her and Felix’s light discussion about Tamriel and Thedas.

Talia’s thoughts drifted to the artifacts in her possession and her hand lightly brushed the Skeleton Key in her pocket.

She had told Felix about what had occurred in the Fade during their first night in Skyhold. Still unsure what to think of the entire business with Fen’Harel, Talia had omitted him from her story, only choosing to focus on Nocturnal and the strange orders the Prince had given her. He shared her puzzlement over the Prince’s task.

“Are you certain she was...speaking the truth? Can these Daedric Princes be trusted?” he had asked.

It depends, Talia had thought, but had instead said, “I’m Nocturnal’s Champion, so she wouldn’t lead me astray.”

He had looked at her in surprise, and asked what the process was in becoming a daedra’s champion. She must have looked uncomfortable, because he had dropped that line of questioning, and asked instead for a chance to examine one of her artifacts.

The mage was utterly fascinated by the Daedric Princes, probably because the closest comparable thing they had in this world were demons, and they were definitely not in the same league. She hesitated for a moment before showing him the Ring of Khajiiti, considering it the least dangerous. Tinkering with the Wabbajack would be hazardous to one’s health, and the Gray Cowl couldn’t be used by anyone but the Gray Fox. For a moment, she considered handing him the Skeleton Key, but she remembered stories about it, tales of enrapturing darkness and corruption, and decided against it.

Glancing at the mage, Talia noted that he was making an effort not to look in her direction, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

If he wanted to be petty, she had more than enough experience with frosty relations from Cassandra.

When they stopped to camp during the night, Felix was still stubbornly silent, only saying he was going to take first watch, and settled in the outskirts of their camp.

Talia sighed and climbed into her bedroll. Thankfully, the Fade was calm that night, and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Fen’Harel since their last talk. She fully expected to be wakened by Felix halfway through the night for her shift, and so was unprepared when she woke to see the sun slowly creeping up the sky.

She sprung out of her bedroll and stormed out of her tent. She found Felix crouched over the campfire, coaxing the embers to life. When she approached, he looked up at her defiantly, and Talia resisted the urge to smack some sense into him.

“What are you doing?” she asked in clipped tones.

He tried to look at her neutrally, but the obvious tiredness in his features ruined it. “Starting another fire to cook our breakfast.”

“You didn’t wake me from my watch.”

“No...no I didn’t.” He said slowly.

Talia bit back an insult and decided to be straightforward. “What is it that you seek to accomplish by doing this?”

“I do not ‘seek to accomplish’ anything,” he said defensively. “I decided against waking you when I figured I could handle both shifts.”

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Talia resisted the urge to call him an idiot. “Felix,” she said in her most patient tone. “I appreciate you letting me rest, but you do not need to provide me any comfort especially at your expense. Might I remind you that you are ill?”

Felix’s mouth settled in a thin line. “You do not need to remind me that I am dying, Talia. But that does not make me useless, nor does it mean I am incapable of defending myself.”

So that’s what this is about, Talia frowned. “You don’t have to prove that you’re able, Felix. I know you are.”

“Do you?” he stood up from his position and looked her in the eye. “You won’t even listen to my perfectly reasonable suggestion. I’m not a fragile flower that will wilt if you take your eyes off me for one second—,”

“Your ability to fight and to protect yourself was never in question, Felix.” Her patience was thinning.

Felix scoffed. “Don’t take me for a fool. There’s nothing else that could possibly—,”

“It’s because I don’t trust you!” Talia snapped.

There was a ringing silence that followed her outburst, and she took a deep breath as she steadied herself.

“I simply—I cannot let you out of my sight.” she shook her head, at a loss for words. She made to move away, but Felix’s voice made her pause in her steps.

“You’re not worried about my health,” he sounded disbelieving as he spoke. “You’re worried I’m going to go back to the Venatori.”

Talia refused to look back at him, but the rigidness in her shoulders said it all.

“I don’t believe this.” he muttered. “You truly think I’d leave?” He tried covering up his tone in incredulity, but Talia could hear the undertone of hurt anyway.

She swallowed thickly but refused to answer his question. “Let’s move on.”

They refused to acknowledge each other as they packed up and left the clearing. If Felix batted away stray branches with more ferocity than he used to, Talia didn’t mention it.

How could he ever understand, how could she make him understand? It wasn’t about him; she had told him more about her life than anyone on this world, save Leliana, and that was only out of necessity. It was easy to be around Felix, but that didn’t mean she could abandon reason and trust him blindly.

But is that not what you’re doing anyway? A voice in her head argued. Sharing your plans, telling him about your life in Cyrodiil...you told him about the spell you used on Harding. You trust him enough to know he would not use this information against you.

The thought made Talia pause in her steps, and at the corner of her eye, she saw Felix glance at her in worry, before looking away just as quickly. She shook her head and resumed walking.

She didn’t even think about lying to Felix at that time. If it were Cassandra, or anyone else, she would have made something up.

Talia gritted her teeth. After Bellamont, she’d become too paranoid for her own good. It took Lukas an incredibly long time before he managed to gain her trust, and that was already knowing his life was in her hands.

But she had nothing on Felix. No information that she could use against him. And she needed him alive; it was the only way to bargain with his father.

She’d be more comfortable with the situation if she had some sort of safety net, something that assured her he would keep his word. Of course, there was always the option of threatening him with Dorian or his father’s life. But the very idea of doing it to Felix, one of the kindest people she had met in Thedas, made Talia feel like the scum of the earth.

It wasn’t as if she was going soft. It was simply ridiculous to threaten her allies.

The voice in her head scoffed. You are quite adept at denial. You think of Felix as your friend. This is why you cannot bring yourself to do it. The voice continued. And if you want to keep it that way, you must learn to trust him.

Strangely enough, the nagging voice in her head was starting to sound familiar.

Shut up, Lukas, she thought, only managing to stop herself from saying it out loud.

But the Lukas-voice in her head was right. In the brief span of time they had known each other, Talia had grown attached to Felix. It was quite difficult not to be charmed by his sincerity and kindness, and he, like Varric, seemed to enjoy their conversations as well.

Perhaps it was only her paranoia working against her. Certainly, Felix had never done anything suspicious.

Talia sighed deeply as she made up her mind.

As they reached the forked road to Haven and the Hinterlands, she fished the Ring of Khajiiti from her pocket and thrust it towards Felix.

“Take it.”

Talia figured the only reason he’d taken it was out of surprise. “I—what?”

She refused to meet his gaze. “For emergencies. I’m certain Harding can run interference, but I don’t forget faces, and if the other me sees you, it might cause complications.”

“Talia...” he sounded...touched?

“I’ll be back early morning. Just make sure you’re at the Crossroads before then.”

Before she could leave, Felix placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. No words were spoken between them, but Talia gave him a tight nod in response. He would never know just how difficult it was for her to do that. She just hoped her faith in him was not misplaced.

It was dark when she reached Haven, but she still took caution and cast an invisibility spell before scaling the walls and dropping to the other side.

Mindfully sticking close to the shadows, Talia slowly made her way to the Chantry. Leliana would be difficult to track down, and the woman would probably attack first and ask questions after; Josephine was the more sensible option.

The door to Josephine’s office was ajar and Talia slipped in as one of the scribes opened it to leave. The ambassador was dutifully going through piles of paperwork, muttering to herself as she wrote her thoughts.

Talia cancelled the invisibility spell and spoke, “Josephine.”

The woman started so badly that she’d knocked the inkwell off her table, and only Talia’s reflexes saved it.

“Herald! You gave me such a fright!” Josephine had a hand on her chest as she tried to calm her breathing. “What are you doing back so soon? We weren’t expecting you for another week at least.”

“I have some information for you and Leliana, if you’d be so kind to ask a scribe to call for her.”

“Of course! Have a seat, Herald. Commander Cullen should still be awake at this hour, I can ask someone to send for him as well.”

She made to move towards her door, and Talia gripped her arm lightly to stop her. “This information, I’m afraid, is for you and Leliana only.”

The woman looked back at her, searching her eyes for something. Perhaps she was gauging her sincerity and seriousness, whatever it was, Josephine seemed to have found it. She nodded and Talia dropped her hand, allowing the ambassador to carry out her request.

Talia took one of the seats in front of Josephine’s table as the woman reseated herself.

“May I ask what this is about? We received Scout Harding’s letter regarding your meeting with Mother Giselle.”

“I will expound when Leliana is here, but simply know that this is information crucial to the success of the Inquisition.”

“Josie,” Leliana’s voice came as the door was pushed open. “I received your missive, what is it that you—,” she paused in her greeting as she saw Talia.

“Leliana.” Talia inclined her head in greeting.

“Herald,” she replied neutrally, but Talia knew enough about the Nightingale to know that she had gone extremely suspicious. “What brings you back to Haven this early?”

“Have a seat,” the dunmer gestured to the seat across her. “I have a lot to talk to you about.”

Leliana gracefully sat on her chair and crossed her arms; one of her hands was hidden beneath her arm, and Talia knew she was fingering her daggers.

With an exaggerated slowness, Talia reached into her pocket, and interestingly, both women tensed, before relaxing minutely when she pulled out a piece of vellum. She handed it to Leliana, who took it with a raised eyebrow.

“Before I begin, I think it’s best if you read Harding’s report first. I can answer any questions you have.”

The spymaster was stone-faced as she read through the letter, and she passed it over to Josephine without any comment. When the ambassador read it, Talia could tell the exact moment she reached the bulk of the message, as her eyes widened to the size of saucers. When she was done, she simply put down the missive and looked at her dazedly.

“What—,”

“You cannot believe that we would take this seriously?” Leliana cut her off.

“And why not?” Talia replied calmly.

“You’re not seriously suggesting you actually traveled back in time, Herald?” Josephine said in a disturbed tone.

“Is this how you amuse yourself? Misleading my scouts, telling them lies? I’m certain you and your companion had quite a good laugh over it.”

This wasn’t good. Leliana sounded more like Cassandra at this moment.

“If you bothered to check, at the time we met up with Harding, I—at least, the other me—was still unconscious here in Haven after sealing the Breach.”

“Scout Harding was obviously confused.” Leliana glared daggers at her. “This is utterly absurd.”

“Leli, what if she’s telling the truth?” Josephine asked.

“Josie, you cannot be serious.”

“We are no strangers to odd occurrences after the formation of the Breach. Is the idea of time-travel truly so farfetched?” In spite of her words, the woman still looked rather unconvinced.

“I think this has surpassed the realm of odd, Josie.”

“Yes,” Talia agreed. “Then again, so is a mortal from Nirn falling into another world.”

“That is different.”

“How so?” Talia challenged. “I would argue that it is in the realm of highly impossible, had it not happened to me.”

“Then tell us everything. What happened—or rather what will happen.” Leliana jumped on Talia’s hesitation. “See? You would not even speak of it.”

“Knowledge of the future is dangerous, Leliana. As far as we know, Felix and I are the first two to successfully go back in time. We do not know if our being here changes things, or if we are the ones to bring about the fulfillment of whatever happens.”

“Then please tell us the general tale.” Josephine spoke seriously. “You need not go into specifics, but you must understand, we cannot go along with this without any sort of proof.”

“I understand,” Talia said. The dunmer told the story, but purposely kept it all vague. She mentioned their visit to Val Royeaux, the rescue mission for Felix, accidentally entering the Fade and finding Skyhold.

They had a lot of questions, especially about Felix, but she managed to smooth it over by providing a few, but inconsequential details.

When she was done, Josephine had looked convinced, but Leliana was stubbornly suspicious.

“I need more details.”

Talia frowned. “I already told you I cannot give you detailed information.”

“You could be lying.”

“To what end?” Talia asked in exasperation. “I’m not working with the Enemy, everything that I do is for the betterment of the Inquisition. Even if you did think I was only doing this out of self-interest, can you really disdain my help?

“I found a perfectly defensible fortress that I am offering as a base of operations for the Inquisition. I would not do so if I was aiding the Enemy.” Talia leaned forward. “I am on your side.”

“If you are truly on our side, then why exclude Cullen from this? He along with Cassandra are key people in the Inquisition.”

Because he’d kill me, that’s why, she thought. “I leave that decision up to you two. But Cullen and Cassandra could not keep any secrets to save their lives, and the other me would notice if they were to treat me—her differently.”

Leliana gave her a long, hard look before inclining her head. “Very well. I choose to believe your words.”

For now, Talia thought, but nodded graciously anyway.

“But I do not have any scouts to spare. I cannot provide you any men to aid you in the reparations of Skyhold.”

“There must be some that you don’t need.”

Leliana looked at her coolly. “There are none.”

“What about the ones that were apprehended in the Fallow Mire?” Josephine suggested, and both of them looked at her, Talia with curiosity, and Leliana with annoyance.

“There was a group of soliders and scouts stalking around the area for information, but they were incapacitated and captured by the Avvar tribesmen that reside in the area.”

Talia filed the term Avvar back in her mind for her to research on later. “And?”

“Their chief wishes to challenge the Herald of Andraste to a duel.”

“We have decided to ignore it. The Inquisition cannot afford to lose any more men, and if they were incompetent enough to get caught, then we are not bound to get them out of that situation.” Leliana explained.

Talia understood her reasoning of course. Most of the scouts’ lives were expendable, and if they try and send a rescue party, they might end up as casualties, or additional prisoners for the Avvar. Still, Leliana did not trust her enough to give her any people, and beggars can’t be choosers.

The dunmer nodded. “If you no longer have use for them, I certainly need more men in Skyhold. Felix and I will plan a rescue for them, I will send you a letter.”

“You seem more confident and assured now, Herald.” Leliana commented offhandedly. “What changed you?”

Talia looked back at Leliana. “A few days after I—the other me comes back from Haven, you will find me outside my cabin, freezing in the snow in the middle of the night. You and I will have an extremely long talk about my identity, and my motivations.

“I’m giving you permission to share whatever it is you learn from me with Josephine.”

Both women looked surprised, but Leliana seemed to understand her more, and perhaps Talia was imagining it, but the woman’s eyes softened just a tad.

“Josephine, please start looking into finding people to repair Skyhold. You can send them there to survey the damage and draw up plans.”

“What will you do next?”

“I have a lead on the location of someone important.” Talia smiled at Leliana, and the woman seemed to understand what she was saying.

“You’ve found her?” There was hope in her voice.

“Felix and I are heading to Orzammar, in the Deep Roads. We have reason to believe we’ll find our missing Warden there.”

“I would like to come.” Leliana’s eyes were cloudy. “But I am needed here, so I must rely on you. Bring her back.”

“With pleasure.” Talia nodded.

The trip back to the Hinterlands was a quiet one that Talia spent on foot. The entire meeting with Josephine and Leliana had been rather difficult. With time, she had forgotten that Leliana had once looked at her as Cassandra once did—with suspicion and hostility, the former was simply better at hiding it.

Their first talk, as unpleasant as it had been, had served to allow Leliana to gain a better understanding of Talia and who she was, and both of them slowly learned to trust each other, if not as friends, then at least as allies. Now, the woman wouldn’t even give her a couple of scouts to use, not that Talia was surprised. This Leliana hadn’t heard her story of Mehrunes Dagon and Martin Septim, and had never revealed to Talia the difficulty of following everything Justinia asked of her.

Still, at least they were getting somewhere. She’d promised to stay in touch with both of them and update them regularly regarding their plans. Hopefully, once this Leliana and the other her finally get to talk, the spymaster would be more cordial to her.

Allowing Josephine to know what Leliana knew about her was a huge step for her. She needed Josephine’s trust for them to be able to work together, and despite her misgivings, she was still certain it was the most sensible thing to do.

When she reached the Crossroads, she made a beeline to Harding. The scout was in her tent giving orders to one of her subordinates when Talia approached. She waited for the other person to leave before dropping the illusion spell.

“Herald!” Harding greeted her in an excited whisper. “How did your meeting with Sister Nightingale go?”

“As well as can be expected. Where’s Felix?” She changed the subject.

“Oh, he went out with one of the other scouts, they took the main highway, I think.”

Talia froze, and forced herself to relax when Harding gave her a curious look. Just because Felix had taken the main road to Redcliffe didn’t mean he had gone in that direction. She decided to wait for him for at least half an hour before trying to go find him. To kill time, she’d asked Harding about updates. Her counterpart was on the other side of the Hinterlands with Varric and Cassandra, which thankfully meant she’d be able to avoid any unpleasant meetings.

She had learned more than she wanted to know about the Hinterlands and its geography when she heard the sentry call out.

“Ho there Mr. Felix! Good to have you back!”

“I was here two hours ago, Sutherland,” Felix replied in amusement.

Talia exhaled slowly. She didn’t even realize she had been holding her breath.

Harding exited the tent to drag Felix in for a talk, and when she stepped back in, the mage was trailing behind her.

“Talia!” he sounded truly glad to see her and she offered him a small smile in return. She was about to ask how he was, but another man entered after him and she paused in her steps.

“Greetings,” the unknown man said in a gruff voice.

Talia looked over at Felix with an expression that screamed, ‘Explain.’ And the mage smiled widely.

“This is Talia Indoril, also known as the Herald of Andraste.” Felix said to the man. “Talia, this is Warden Blackwall.”

Talia’s eyebrows shot to her hairline.

A Warden, as in...?

Blackwall stepped forward. “I understand that most of my kin are missing. But I would like to offer my services as a Grey Warden.” He saluted. “If you’ll have me.”

Talia looked from Felix’s pleased grin to Blackwall’s sombre expression.

“The Inquisition is pleased to have you with us, Warden Blackwall.”

Things had become much more interesting.

Chapter Text

There were only seven of them. It irked Talia that she’d had to wade through acres of swamp water and battle hordes of undead only to recover seven minor members of the Inquisition. Still, it was better than nothing.

When she had opened the door to their cell, she found them all huddled together, pale and weary, but otherwise, unharmed. They looked surprised to see her, and one of the younger ones even burst into tears at the sight of their savior. Felix checked them over for any injuries while Blackwall swept around the area to take care of any stragglers. Some of them recoiled from the mage’s touch and Talia had to stop herself from sighing in annoyance.

She was certainly hoping they weren’t as useless as they appeared.

There were two older ones who seemed to be the backbone of the group, one female soldier and one male scout. The woman was worse off than the rest, sporting a bruised face and a dislocated shoulder. Talia had heard that she’d tried protecting the others in the group.

The Hand of Korth hadn’t been particularly difficult to dispose of. It had taken one paralyzing rune and he had gone down faster than a crumbling ruin. Blackwall blinked in surprise when the Avvar froze in his steps, but he recovered quickly enough to swing his broadsword and decapitate him. To remove any suspicions from her, she had beamed at Felix.

“Thank you for casting that spell. Made things so much easier,” she said with a grin.

Felix had given her a confused look that quickly morphed into understanding. Still, his “You’re welcome” sounded a tad bit sardonic.

With the torrential downpour and muddy paths, it was a miracle that they reached the Hinterlands a day earlier than they expected.

The group set their camp on the outskirts of the Hinterlands, just past the borders of the Fallow Mire. Harding had proposed that it was a better to meet them there instead of sneaking around in the Crossroads. There was no sign of them when they arrived, but Talia was hopeful that they’d be there the following day.

Talia and Felix double-checked their map and walked around the clearing to make sure they were some distance away from any other Inquisition camps. On their way back, Felix stumbled, and Talia only just managed to catch him.

“Felix!” she exclaimed. “Are you all right?”

“I—,” He blinked. “I’m fine?” The mage looked groggy and dazed.

“We should head back to camp.” She furrowed her brow in concern. “Can you walk?”

“I—I think so.”

Talia supported him the rest of the way back. When they reached the edge of the clearing, Blackwall looked up from where he and the crew were setting up a tent. Upon seeing them, a look of alarm crossed his face, and he immediately made his way towards them, sword half-drawn.

“We weren’t attacked,” Talia explained before the Warden could ask. “But Felix needs to lie down. Is there a tent we can use?”

“I’m fine, just a bit tired,” Felix said weakly.

Blackwall nodded and sheathed his sword. For a moment, Talia was bemused when he held out his arms.

“My lady Herald, let me carry him for you.”

“Oh, it’s all right, Blackwall. Just tell me where—,”

“I insist.”

The man was chivalry incarnated, and Talia resisted sighing before passing Felix onto the warden.

“I can walk, you know,” the mage muttered.

Both Blackwall and Talia ignored him.

One of the scouts—she would make an effort to memorize their names later on—saluted and wordlessly led them to one of the larger tents. Blackwall gently deposited Felix onto the bedroll.

“I can take it from here, Blackwall. Can you please organize and set up watch?”

“Of course, Herald,” he responded gravely and exited the tent.

“I’m fine, really. Just a bit dizzy,” Felix groaned and cradled his head in his hands.

Talia frowned. “We should get you out of those wet clothes. Here.” She handed him a dry shirt she found in his pack.

The mage attempted to sit up, but fell back down with a groan.

Kneeling beside him, Talia cast a warming charm to help with the chill. “Do you need help changing?” she asked kindly.

Felix looked at her uncertainly, as if thinking of ways to get out of it but couldn’t. It took a while, but he eventually nodded his assent.

To minimize any discomfort the man may feel, Talia kept her touches firm and methodical. However, as they finally managed to remove his shirt, she was taken aback by what she saw. Her eyes looked up to meet Felix’s, but he kept his head down, unwilling to meet her gaze.

There was a small, thin scar on the man’s lower stomach, and by itself, Talia wouldn’t have given it a second glance. But there were dozens of jagged black lines branching out from the old wound.

“It only takes a speck of darkspawn blood coming in contact with your skin to contract Taint,” he said quietly. “A small cut with a Tainted blade is a death sentence.”

Both were silent for a moment before Talia spoke.

“Felix. We have Blackwall with us, and when we find the Dragonborn—”

“Don’t.” His harsh tone was unlike anything she’d ever heard from him. “Just...” He breathed in deeply. “I need to be alone for a while.”

Talia felt a pang of sadness for the man, but she respected his wishes. She helped him into his shirt and laid him gently back onto the bedroll. Just before she left the tent, the dunmer cast a ward around the entrance to ensure that he was undisturbed for the rest of the night.

Blackwall was sitting by the fire, and he immediately stood to greet her when she approached. She waved him down and took a seat across him.

“Is Felix all right, my lady?” He asked as he passed her the stew the scouts managed to scrounge up.

“No.” She sighed. “He hasn’t for quite some time now.”

“He’s sick then?”

Talia looked over at Blackwall as she considered her response. The man had been nothing but an asset since his addition to their company. He supplied the needed muscle that neither Talia nor Felix could provide for their team. Apart from this, he accepted Talia’s leadership without question; he followed her orders, and provided helpful insights to aid in their journey. Being around him wasn’t as easy as spending time with Felix, but she never had to pretend to be nicer than she actually was.

The only problem that Talia had with the man was that he was very guarded.

On a few occasions, Talia tried engaging Blackwall in small talk, and he only gave her the very basics of his life: he was a Warden, he’d had no contact with the Free Marcher Wardens in a while, save for sending them the men he manages to recruit, and that he’s never met Savith Stormcrown.

Other than that, the man wouldn’t speak of it. She tried to ask him about his family, and what he did before joining the Grey Wardens, but he simply gave her a grave look and told her that wardens left their past behind them after joining.

Both Talia and Felix decided not to tell Blackwall about their trip back in time and about her true origins. He was definitely reliable in terms of combat, but they didn’t know enough about him to truly trust him. She had sent Leliana a letter to ask her to look into Blackwall. He could be a planted agent for all they knew, and until she received a reply, the man would have to be kept in the dark about many of their plans.

Still, he was the only person around that Talia could ask about the Taint. And if there was even the smallest chance he knew some way to save Felix, she would take it.

“Felix is...Tainted,” she said hesitantly.

Blackwall visibly stiffened at this news. “How long?”

“I don’t know...though I’ve heard that the wardens are the most knowledgeable about the Taint?” She made her tone sound innocent and hopeful.

“My lady...”

“You can call me, Talia, you know?”

“My lady Talia,” he amended, and gave an uncharacteristic grin as she leveled him with an unimpressed look. His face turned grave again as he spoke, “There is no cure for the Taint.”

“But some Tainted men survive to become Grey Wardens. How is that possible if there is no cure?”

“I cannot answer that, my lady.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Why not?” she pressed.

“I am bound by my oath as a warden.”

Perhaps a little acting was needed. She affected a hurt and incredulous tone. “My friend is dying; he’s in pain, and you won’t even tell how I can save him?”

The man grimaced, but said nothing.

Hmmm. Perhaps she needed to twist the knife. “And here I thought Wardens were men of integrity.”

Blackwall flinched and looked as if she’d slapped him.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Talia looked away and pretended to be upset. Interesting. He didn’t look angry, but he had paled drastically. She was surprised at the severity of his reaction, and after counting to ten, and letting Blackwall stew in silence, she spoke hesitantly.

“Blackwall, I...” She sighed. “I apologize. That was out of line.” She reached out to touch his hand, and cast a mild calm spell.

The warden relaxed and rubbed the back of his neck before nodding. “I understand. You are...distraught.” He was quiet for a moment before he hesitantly said, “I cannot help you because I don’t know, my lady. I never bothered to learn much about the Taint.”

He looked away from her gaze, and Talia sensed that he was telling the truth. But there was something in his tone...was that guilt?

“Still,” Talia sighed. “I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I suppose I was just hoping you’d be the answer to all my problems.” She looked at him earnestly, and he flushed before glancing away.

“I deeply regret that I can’t be of any more help, my lady.”

“It’s all right, Blackwall.” It wasn’t, really; she’d been hoping he’d be able to tell her more about the Taint.

Later that night, when Blackwall insisted that Talia should rest, she silently entered her shared tent with Felix. The man was restless in his sleep, and there was a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.

She kneeled by his side and cast a mild calm spell, only letting it up when he stopped tossing and turning, and his expression smoothened.

Talia wanted to help him; she wanted to study the Taint, find a cure, and set him free from this illness. She wanted to save him, but even she knew she didn’t have the resources to do so. But she knew who did. She only hoped Savith Stormcrown would be cooperative.

Sadrith Mora was just as Talia remembered it—breathtaking, if not a bit overwhelming. The last time she was there, her father had brought her with him during one of his negotiations with House Telvanni, calling it an “educational experience”. The sight of so many dunmer brought a pang of homesickness. After her impulsive decision to run away, she’d never gone back to Morrowind. And now, it wasn’t likely she’d ever have another chance.

Still, it was strange that out of all the places in Morrowind she could dream of, it was this place. At least she was consciously aware of where she was now, unlike the previous times she’d ended up in the Fade.

Over the past few days, Talia made a conscious effort in strengthening her mind from illusions conjured by the Fade. While she couldn’t manipulate the place, she’d at least achieved coherence, in that she could immediately recognize differences between the Fade and the Waking World.

She strolled around the public market, basking in the heat of the day. The Fade had sought to dress her in robes befitting a member of House Indoril. Various stall owners greeted her politely as she passed by, eyeing the different items in selection.

“Greetings, sera! Can I interest you in some trinkets?” A relatively older jeweler called out to her, and she smiled before approaching his stall.

“Hello. What do you have?”

“A member of House Indoril, sera? I have just the thing!” He pulled out an amulet, inlaid with intricate silver swirls and formed to shape two wings, intersecting. In between, a circular indigo gem, the color of House Indoril.

Talia cocked her head to the side as she inspected both the necklace and the shop owner. What were they? Spirits that assimilate based on her memories? Or simply projections her mind creates?

As she opened her mouth to ask the jeweler a question, she felt it—a subtle shift in the Fade, more like a twinge, and she was not at all surprised when she heard a voice behind her.

“Such beautiful craftsmanship.” A slim hand reached out and plucked the amulet from her fingers.

Talia’s lips thinned in annoyance before she turned to face the elvhen god.

Fen’Harel was dressed in the robes she’d last seen him in, and the wolf mask that covered half his face was still firmly in place.

“What is it, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Done licking your wounds?” She asked instead, and Talia had the impression that Fen’Harel had raised his eyebrows at her.

“You look resplendent in those robes. I must say, indigo suits you.”

At this, Talia rolled her eyes and walked off. The elvhen god simply followed as she made her way to the harbor. The smell of the sea and the view of the sun sinking in the sky calmed her somewhat. She couldn’t lose control of her emotions in a place such as the Fade, especially when she had no idea what to expect.

“Is this conversation going to consist of us sidestepping each other’s questions?”

“What do you think?”

“I’m not entirely certain if it’s something you’ve studied in your youth, but it seems you’ve mastered the art of being infuriating and vague down to the letter.” Talia crossed her arms in front of her chest, resolutely keeping her eyes on the horizon.

To her surprise, Fen’Harel let out a small chuckle. “Indeed, perhaps I have…indulged in that branch of study when I was younger.”

“What do you want, Fen’Harel?” she said shortly. He was attempting to lower her guard and Talia did not appreciate it.

He was quiet for a moment as both of them stared out into the sea.

“I believe our last conversation was…interrupted.”

“Do you mean the time you accosted me, and my Lady overpowered you and pushed you out of the Fade forcibly?” Talia replied flatly.

“I was not overpowered. The ravens caught me off guard.” He sounded defensive. “And I hardly accosted you. I was simply fascinated by you, especially your reactions to me. And the display I saw in the Fade, you in your mage robes, teaching a hall full of students. There is no such precedent in the South. And you are clearly not from Tevinter or Par Vollen.”

He turned to gaze at her as he spoke. “So tell me, Talia Indoril, who are you? And where are you from?”

Talia let out a derisive laugh. “Do you honestly believe I’d tell you?”

“One can only hope,” he replied lightly. “I’ve at least ascertained that you are not of this world,” he continued. Talia kept her expression impassive. “Somehow, you’ve broken the very barrier of the Fade, and traversed worlds. It is unheard of.”

“Surely you didn’t think you’d already amassed every bit of knowledge this universe has to offer? Or are you truly that prideful?”

Fen’Harel didn’t so much as jerk as he did twitch, but Talia noticed.

“Oh, did I hit a nerve?” she asked innocently.

“You play a dangerous game, da’len.” His tone grew colder.

“Remind me, which one of us is actually toying with the lives of mortals here? I do not believe it is me. But I digress.” She turned to glare at him. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“You are a mystery, Talia Indoril, one that I will unravel, given more time.”

Talia couldn’t contain her scoff.

Fen’Harel turned to her sharply. “Is it so wrong? Wishing to sate my curiosity? You must admit you would be doing the same were you in my position.”

“I have to admit no such thing,” she commented, although that was true. If say, a Qunari had fallen into Nirn and Talia had access to them, she’d be doing everything in her power to learn more about them.

“Deny it if you wish, but I know a kindred spirit when I see one. You cannot resist the allure of knowledge.”

“If that was all I wanted, I would have prostrated myself in front of Mora years ago.” As soon as the words left her lips, she knew she’d fallen into his trap.

“Mora?” There was smugness mixed in with the curiosity in Fen’Harel, and Talia bit her tongue at her misstep. The Fade was difficult to navigate; it seemed to heighten emotions and twist her mind.

When Talia remained stubbornly quiet, the elf spoke again.

“I propose an exchange.”

“An exchange?”

“I wish to learn more about your world, and you wish to learn more about ours. It seems a fair bargain. Your knowledge for some of mine.”

Talia laughed sharply. “Do you think me foolish enough to accept such a deal from the likes of you?”

Fen’Harel opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Talia beat him to it. “I know you need me for something more than my knowledge. You want this, don’t you?” She raised her left hand, where the Anchor resided. Fen’Harel said nothing, so she continued.

“They say the Elvhen gods were trapped forever somewhere, betrayed by the trickster, Fen’Harel. Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Who knows?” There was a hint of mockery in his tone. “Much of Elvhen history and magic had been lost in the purging of the Dales, after all,” he said pointedly. When she remained silent, Fen’Harel continued, “Can you truly disdain my knowledge? Knowing that it could help you find a way home?”

“Help me find a way home? You don’t even know what I am, where I’m from or how I got here. And you have the arrogance to stand there and tell me your knowledge can help me?” She replied sharply.

“I’ve been coming here, have I not? I have been trying to speak to you, to learn, to understand. There is no certainty anything I know can help you back to your world, just as there is no certainty that you will ever make your way home. But having some knowledge is better than having none at all.”

He was right about that, there was no question about it. But she did not know who Fen’Harel was, what his true motive was. Whether he was a god or not, he could not be trusted so easily.

“You can think this over, of course. But if you permit me one question today, I will let you ask me one question back.”

“Just one question?” Talia asked suspiciously.

Fen’Harel inclined his head. “Friendships and alliances must start somewhere.”

She stared at him for a while before acquiescing reluctantly. “Very well.” This was, quite possibly, one of the most foolish things she’s ever done in a while.

Fen’Harel turned to the horizon, probably thinking of which question to ask, and Talia mentally prepared herself for every question she thought he might be interested in. Still, she was surprised when he finally asked it.

“Tell me about this place.”

“That’s not a question,” Talia replied smartly. Fen’Harel pursed his lips in annoyance, and she resisted the urge to laugh. “This place as in this land? This city? This village?”

Fen’Harel shrugged. “You may interpret that question as you wish.”

What could it hurt? “This place is called Sadrith Mora. In our language, it means ‘Mushroom Forest’”.

Fen’Harel looked at the large mushrooms that served as houses, shops, and inns in the city, and he smiled slightly. “Quite literal.”

“I thought so as well,” Talia agreed, and when she fell silent, he gestured for her to continue. “This city is the seat of House Telvanni. They’re renowned for their magical abilities.” Talia pointed to the tall spire that could easily be seen from the harbor. “That’s Tel Naga, where Neloth, a Master of House Telvanni, resides. Rumor has it that he grew that mushroom tower all by himself.”

“Fascinating.” To Talia’s surprise, Fen’Harel actually said that like he meant it.

“I don’t know much about this place. I’ve only been here twice in my life,” Talia admitted.

“Where do you come from, then?” he asked nonchalantly, but Talia saw through it.

“That’s two questions,” she pointed out, and Fen’Harel smirked unrepentantly.

“How did you travel to Sadrith Mora, then?” He changed his question.

“That’s still another question.” Talia said, but she answered it nonetheless. “I arrived here once via boat, and the other time via portal.”

“Portal?” He sounded faintly surprised.

“Yes, I was a child when we traveled by boat, and I disliked it greatly. The portal was far quicker and less unpleasant.”

“I see.” Talia heard the curiosity behind his words, but she did not feel the need to elaborate.

“There’s not much else I can tell you about Sadrith Mora. If you want to know about the Telvanni, or something related, I’m afraid that will have to wait.” She gave him a challenging look.

Fen’Harel inclined his head. “You’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain, so ask me what you wish.”

Talia looked away as she contemplated her question. She thought about asking if he’d really trapped the other gods in the Fade, but she knew he’d never answer that. Still, there was one pressing thing she needed to know…

“Answer me this one question, truthfully, and I will consider this…’exchange’ of knowledge you’re so eager to sell me.”

“May I know what the question is, then?”

“Are you really Fen’Harel, the Elvhen god, the trickster and traitor to the Elvhen? Or are you a mortal masquerading as Fen’Harel?”

“Traitor to the Elvhen?” he asked frostily.

“That’s what the Dalish say.”

Fen’Harel grew so tense that Talia was slightly worried he’d lash out at her. He turned away from her and kept his hands clasped behind his back.

“And if I answer this, you will agree to our deal?”

“I will consider it,” Talia corrected.

He whirled around so fast that she was forced to take a step backward.

“Consider it?” he asked in condescension. His lips had thinned in displeasure, and Talia realized this was the first time she’d seen the elf so ruffled.

Talia straightened and she looked Fen’Harel in the eye. “Yes, consider it. Because I know nothing of you, of your intentions, of your ultimate plans. But perhaps there are others out there who can share their knowledge of the Elvhen with me. It may take years, but it is possible. Whereas you can only gain information of my world, my magic, and this mark,” She raised her hand. “From me. I know my worth, Fen’Harel, and it’s time you knew yours.”

He took a step towards her, and Talia didn’t move one inch.

“Careful,” she said softly, dangerously. “Or you might just discover how many other gods would come to my aid if my life were threatened.”

Talia didn’t think it was possible, but from the little Talia could see of his face, Fen’Harel had clearly paled a bit.

They both stared at each other for a long time before Fen’Harel forced himself to relax. He brought his palms up placatingly. “Your question—,” He sighed at her. “You worded that in such a manner that would infuriate me.”

Talia shrugged, but did not deny it. “People are often more truthful when emotions are heightened.”

“For future reference, it is not a good idea to anger someone you suspect to be a god,” he said drily.

“Noted,” she replied, equally as dry.

They both looked out at the horizon; the sun was now setting, casting a warm glow over both of them. Talia stayed quiet, waiting for the elf’s answer.

“I…suppose that I am neither.”

Talia frowned and turned to him. “Neither? How can you be neither?”

“I was never a god,” he replied so quietly, that Talia could barely hear him. “In the same way that none of my other kin were gods.”

“So you’re saying you actually are Fen’Harel, but you’re mortal?” Talia felt wrong-footed at this new information.

“Why are you so surprised? You must have had your suspicions.” He sounded amused, belying his earlier discomfort.

“But why were you worshipped as gods? And how are you even alive if you’re really Fen’Harel?”

“That’s three questions,” he replied mildly and let out a chuckle as Talia looked at him in consternation. “We gained great power, and for a time, we were immortal. But none of us were the Creators, none of us were gods.”

“Oh,” Talia blinked as she made the connection. They were like the Tribunal. Mortals that came across incredible powers and established themselves as the gods of the new world.

“Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

Talia sighed but gave Fen’Harel a firm nod. “It answers a lot of my questions. Lady Nocturnal told me you were mortal; it seems she wasn’t mistaken about that.”

“Nocturnal,” Fen’Harel repeated her name. “The ravens were from her.”

It sounded more like a statement than a question, so Talia did not deign to answer it. “Let me think about your proposal. For now, kindly refrain from entering my dreams without permission. I’d like to get a good night’s sleep some time.”

Fen’Harel smiled at her. “Perhaps you should learn how to block me out, then.” He sounded teasing, and that disturbed Talia to no end.

Then and there, she decided that it was enough social interaction with the Dread Wolf that she could take.

“Good bye, Fen’Harel.”

She closed her eyes firmly and commanded herself—

WAKE UP.

Talia jolted out of her bedroll. Taking stock of her surroundings, she let go of the dagger she’d automatically unsheathed, and took a deep breath.

Fen’Harel.

If he was to be believed, he actually was the “Dread Wolf”, neither a god, nor truly mortal. But somewhere in between. Talia could feel the sincerity behind his words, but she figured that tens of thousands of years living would have let him perfect his lies. Still, he could have claimed he was a god and left it at that, agreed with every story the Dalish had. It was the fact that he’d contradicted everything that made Talia believe he was telling the truth.

But what did Fen’Harel really want? It was natural he’d be curious about her world, and she knew he was interested in the Anchor. However, she had no idea what he wanted to do with it. If there was any truth to the tales of the Dalish, he had locked away the rest of his kin in the Fade.

Talia couldn’t deny to herself, however, that his offer of Elvhen knowledge and magic was something she’d been seeking for some time. She needed more information on how magic in this world works, and how she could possibly bridge or combine it with Nirn magic. And the other information he could give her—old elvhen magic that had been lost to time; it made his offer all the more tempting.

Sighing, she got out of her bedroll and exited her tent. The moon was slowly sinking, and the sky was only starting to lighten, confirming that it was still very early in the morning. A lone figure was seated on a fallen log at the edge of the clearing, peering solemnly at the sky.

“Blackwall,” she called out in surprise to the warden, who was still awake, even if his shift should have ended a few hours ago.

“Lady Talia?” He seemed to have been startled out of his thoughts.

“Why are you still awake? Are you all right?”

“Ahhh, yes.” He seemed blindsided by her line of questioning. “I’m not particularly tired, and the men needed their rest.”

“Don’t exhaust yourself on their behalf. I need you in your best form, as well,” she chastised lightly.

“I’ll remember that, my lady.” A hint of pink reached Blackwall’s cheeks as he coughed. “Are…you all right?”

“Hmmm? Oh yes. I’m going for a walk to clear my head. We need some more herbs anyway.”

“Let me accompany you.”

“That’s not necessary,” she protested, but he was already standing and moving to wake two scouts to take up the watch.

The man was chivalrous to a fault, Talia almost rolled her eyes. But she supposed she should be grateful. They followed the path of the winding river, Talia picking up every herb she could see. It would help to have her own stock in the future. She was definitely having an alchemic lab installed in her room in Skyhold.

Blackwall wasn’t bad company, he was mostly quiet, but he was opening up little by little. He gave small comments on the areas they passed, saying that he’d been roaming around the Hinterlands for quite some time. He pointed to one of the fruit-bearing trees she wasn’t familiar with.

“I survived an entire week subsisting on that fruit alone. It has a lot of water, so it helps with both the hunger and the thirst.”

Talia peered at the pale orange fruit, which didn’t look familiar to her. “What’s it called?”

“I’ve no clue. I, uh, have been calling it ‘life-saving-fruit’ in my mind.” When the dunmer laughed, he grinned back at her.

“Give me a boost, then, I’ll go grab us some.”

“Oh, of course.” He knelt down and Talia stepped up onto his shoulders. He gripped her legs tightly as he stood up. The dunmer quickly climbed up and steadied herself on the boughs of the tree.

“How do I know if they’re ripe?” Talia called down to Blackwall.

“Ripeness wasn’t really a concern of mine when I was starving,” Blackwall answered sheepishly.

When Talia was finished harvesting the fruit, she peered back down and signaled Blackwall.

“My lady?” he asked.

“Here,” Talia threw down the bag of fruits, which Blackwall caught deftly. She cast a cushioning spell on her boots, a watered-down version of the enchantment in the boots of Springheel Jak, but still effective for shorter heights. Satisfied, she jumped down.

Blackwall let out a noise of surprise, and to her bemusement, let go of the bag to catch her as well. The force of her landing was enough to knock the poor warden off his feet. She quickly got off Blackwall and knelt over him.

“Blackwall! Are you all right?”

“Yes,” The Warden grunted in response as he sat up slowly. “Are you all right, my lady?” He looked at Talia for a moment before saying, “A fall of that height could have injured you.”

She waved away his concern. “I’m fine. You didn’t have to catch me, we elves are a bit more nimble on our feet.” She held out a hand to help him. Blackwall hesitantly grasped her hand and let her pull him up.

“Yes well, I thought maybe the non-elf half would make it hard for you.”

Talia raised an eyebrow.

“…That was a joke, my lady.”

“I didn’t know you were capable of jokes,” she teased lightly. Blackwall was always a serious, if somewhat broody man. It was hard to get close to him, as he seemed to see her mostly as a figure of authority. He was wary of Felix as well, probably all the preconceived notions of Tevinter.

“Don’t spread it around, might ruin my reputation.” He grinned more freely.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

The light atmosphere evaporated when a light rustling could be heard from the woods across the river. Both Blackwall and Talia tensed and readied their weapons. It was either the Templars or the apostates, neither seemed to be a good option right now. When the figure emerged, it stopped in its tracks and gaped at Talia.

Talia, stuttered in her steps as well, staring at the elf in dismay. Damn. Nobody was supposed to see her, let alone someone who knew her.

“Herald?” Solas called out in shock.

Blackwall glanced from her to Solas and lowered his blade. “You know him, my lady?”

“I—how—?” It was the first Talia had seen him at a loss for words. And in his defense, she was having difficulty deciding what to tell him.

“Solas—,” she began, but was cut off by another voice.

“Hey Chuckles! Where’d you run off to?” Varric’s unmistakable voice came from somewhere behind Solas. Meters away, but undoubtedly getting closer.

Perhaps it was the horror in Talia’s expression, but Solas hesitated in answering.

“Solas, you have to listen to me,” Talia said urgently. “They cannot know I’m here, I cannot be seen.”

“My lady?” Blackwall asked in confusion.

“I was with the Herald the whole day, whoever you are, you’re clearly not her,” Solas replied steely.

“Hey Chuckles! You there?” Varric’s voice was nearer now, but it was the second voice that caused more panic.

“Really, Varric, maybe he just wanted some alone time.”

Sweet Night Mother.

Blackwall glanced at Talia in confusion, clearly hearing the voice as well.

How? Talia’s mind raced as she thought of ways to prove who she was.

“Solas?” The voice was closer now, just as Talia realized what she could do. She hastily removed her left glove and thrust her hand out at Solas, clearly displaying the glowing mark.

Solas’ eyes widened, and if he wasn’t gaping before, he certainly was doing so now.

“Please, I can explain everything later, but nobody can know I’m here,” Talia pleaded. She couldn’t attack Solas. He was a mage, a rather capable one as well. Any and all ways to silence him would be met with resistance. Perhaps she could incapacitate him if she had more time, but she needed to hurry. Solas was intelligent and reasonable; he would understand the implications of having the mark on her hand.

“I require an explanation later,” he said, but he turned to address the coming group. “I’m over here, Varric.”

Talia all but sighed in relief. There was rustling from the foliage across the river, and she only managed to drag Blackwall behind some bushes before two figures emerged.

Talia peeked through the trees, and she suspected Blackwall was doing so as well, if the disbelieving expression on his face was any indication of what he saw.

It was one thing to think about it hypothetically, but actually seeing it was rather unnerving.

Standing at the edge of the river were none other than Solas, Varric…and Talia.

Or rather…past-her.

She looked rather tired, it was obvious that the stress of the past few days was catching up to her. But the small smile on her face was genuine—almost all her smiles around the dwarf were.

“Find anything, Chuckles?” Varric asked.

“Just some spindleweed,” he pointed to the herbs on the riverbank. “I’ll need more of this for the people at the Crossroads.”

“Varric and I are meeting Cassandra by the West Road, some locals said there’s a Templar outpost there. We’re going to try and talk to them,” Indoril said. “Would you like to come?”

“The Templars may be more amenable if there is no mage in your group,” Solas replied.

“He’s got a point, Pointy.”

“Pointy? Really?” Indoril asked in exasperation. “I thought you were a writer.”

“The daggers, you know. I thought you might prefer it over ‘Glowy’.” Varric pouted.

Indoril shook her head and turned to Solas. “Are you sure you’ll be fine on your own? It’s not just the Templars who are hostile towards apostates in this area.”

Talia felt like she was stuck in a dream as she watched herself interact with the other two. It was like replaying a memory, but from an outsider’s perspective.

“He’ll be fine. I’d actually feel sorry for anybody who tries attacking him.” Varric shrugged. “Let’s leave Chuckles to his spindleweed and go meet the Seeker.”

“Eager to see her again, are you?” she teased.

Talia could see Varric shudder all the way from across the river.

“It’s like setting a bone, you know? Better to just do it quickly.”

Their banter continued as they went back the way they came, and when Talia could no longer hear them or see them through the detect life spell, she let out a sigh of relief.

“Forgive the language, but what the fuck was that?” Blackwall sounded furious and confused. And Talia couldn’t blame him, she felt rather disoriented and unbalanced after seeing herself.

“I too, would like an explanation for this.” Came Solas voice, and Talia looked up to find that he’d already crossed the river over to them.

She looked from Blackwall’s betrayed expression to Solas’ impassive one, and suppressed the urge to groan.

“Damn.” Talia pinched the bridge of her nose, furious with herself. It was a mistake to explore the Hinterlands especially knowing her counterpart was still running around, fighting templars and mages alike.

This was too bloody complicated even for her.

Talia sighed. “What do you want to know?”

“Perhaps it would be best to proceed to the most pressing question: how is it that there are two of you here? Are you even really Talia Indoril?” Solas said warily, but Talia noted that he didn’t even tense or grab his staff.

Blackwall looked stricken at the thought that someone might had fooled him, and Talia momentarily felt bad for him. She tugged off her left glove and opened her palm. The mark crackled as she did so and the two of them stared at it.

“Solas can ascertain that it’s the actual mark.”

The elf held out his hand and Talia allowed him to inspect the mark. When he finished, she pulled back her hand and slipped on her glove.

“How?” Solas asked in confusion.

Talia tried to think of the words to explain, but in the end she settled for the simplest. “Time magic.”

Shocked silence followed her proclamation.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Blackwall said flatly, and when Talia raised an eyebrow at his language, he added, “my lady.”

“How?” It was unlike Solas to look so flabbergasted, but Talia thought her reaction was somewhat similar.

Talia stood up and brushed the dirt and leaves from her armor. “I think it’s best if we go back to camp; I think I’ll need Felix here to explain it with me.”

The entire way back, Talia was berating herself. All of this could have been avoided if she hadn’t taken that Sithis-forsaken walk. Blackwall was silent, though he was hacking at foliage with more force than necessary. Solas was quiet as well, seemingly deep in thought.

The scouts greeted them as they arrived, though they looked surprised at the presence of Solas. The three stopped in front of her shared tent with Felix.

“I’ll go wake Felix up, and then we’ll have a little talk.” Fuck my life, she thought gloomily.

Talia quietly entered her shared tent with Felix. The mage was sitting up in his bedroll as she came in, and he looked at her blearily.

“How are you feeling?” Talia asked carefully.

Felix yawned. “Better, I suppose. But I still feel a bit tired.”

The man was still rather pale, but he looked to be in better shape than yesterday.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but we have a…slight problem.”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “How…slight is this problem?”

“I…may have…accidentally encountered my past self while exploring the Hinterlands.”

“WHAT?!”

Grimacing, Talia recounted what happened by the river, and Felix groaned. “Are you always this unlucky?”

Talia thought about it. “Yes, unfortunately. You should get dressed, I’ll wait for you outside. Let us know when we can come in to talk.”

“Talia.” Felix’s voice stopped her as she was about to part the tent flaps. When the man said nothing else, she turned back and gave him an inquisitive look.

Felix averted his eyes immediately as she met his gaze, and he fiddled with his threadbare blanket as he spoke. “Last night…I was…well, I apologize for my behavior.” He took a deep breath. “I know you were only concerned, and I was stressed, and I took it out on you, and I apologize,” he babbled, sounding vaguely embarrassed.

Talia shook her head and kneeled in front of him. Felix was still looking away in shame, and she gingerly placed her hands on his shoulders.

“Felix,” she said bracingly. “You have a terminal sickness. And while I understand that you’ve learned to live with it, that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to be upset about it.”

She paused, trying to find a way to say what she wanted. He looked up at her sudden silence, and Talia could see the grief in his eyes, and quiet acceptance of his death.

“I am a realist, Felix, I’m not a fanciful, wide-eyed slip of a mage, who utterly believes that she holds the key to your salvation. But I do know that I haven’t exhausted all my resources.” She shifted in her place and leaned in. “Let me help you,” she implored.

“Talia, please.” His voice was thick with emotion.

You are my friend, she only barely stopped herself from saying out loud. “Let me help you,” she reiterated forcefully, and Felix looked down momentarily before looking back up and giving her a small smile.

“I can already tell you’re not going to let this go.” His tone was tinged with amusement.

“You know me so well already.”

He set one of his hands atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, my friend.”

She smiled at him faintly and pulled away.

When she exited the tent, Blackwall and Solas both looked at her. “Felix is just dressing, we’ll wait for him and look for a quiet place away from camp to talk.” She paused before saying, “I don’t suppose I need to explain just how sensitive this information is. Only a handful of people know what happened to me and Felix. I wouldn’t have wanted to involve you in this.” She grimaced. “But we don’t have a choice now.”

The three remained silent until Felix exited the tent. Solas gave him a speculative once-over before nodding. Talia led them to the edge of camp, close enough that they could still see the rest of the group, but far enough to ensure they wouldn’t be overheard. Still, at Talia’s nod, Felix set up a privacy ward.

Blackwall gave him a suspicious look. “What was that?”

“Privacy ward,” Talia answered for him. “It will make sure no one can hear what we’re saying.” She turned to Solas. “If there are to be introductions—Solas, this is Felix of the House Alexius, and Warden Blackwall.”

“How do you do?” Felix asked politely as he gave a bow, while Blackwall grunted.

“How far into the future are you two from?” Solas asked curiously.

“First of all,” Blackwall interjected. “How is any of this even possible?”

The warden looked so disturbed, but Talia had no clue what to do to make him feel more at ease.

“My father has been working on time magic theory for a long time, but it was the Breach that gave them the...means to make it happen. I’m not entirely sure how it works,” he admitted. “It was never my branch of expertise or interest.”

“As for how far into the future, give or take maybe…five months?” Talia looked over at Felix in confirmation, and he nodded.

“Fascinating,” Solas commented.

“Oh,” Blackwall looked relieved for some reason. “I thought you were from far off into the future.”

“Does something happen in five months that necessitates you going back in time to…fix things? Change them?” Solas asked insistently.

“Nothing of the sort; it was an accident,” Felix assured them, when he hesitated to continue speaking, Talia interceded.

“We’d rather not explain how it happened. The less people know about the future, the better.”

“Ah yes, the time travel paradox,” Solas murmured, more to himself. “You, hiding from your past self?”

Talia nodded. “Absolutely necessary. I have no memory of ever meeting another version of me, or Blackwall, before we were sent back.”

“So, this is the first…erm…timeline we’ve ever met? You never knew me in the past—future? For fuck’s sake, this is so confusing.” Blackwall growled in frustration.

Talia’s lips twitched in amusement at his annoyance. “No, I’ve never met you, haven’t even heard of you, which is why it surprised me when Felix showed up with you in tow.” At his confusion, she clarified. “Leliana, our Spymaster, probably knows of your existence and was interested in recruiting you. However, I—that is, me from the future—got there first. I sent a letter informing her that we’ve recruited you, so she didn’t tell past-me about you.”

“…I won’t pretend to understand that,” Blackwall said flatly.

“Talia and I have tried not to interfere with ‘the past’ much, and we plan to avoid our past-selves as much as possible.” He gave her a look and wryly added, “that is, if Talia’s bad luck doesn’t rear its ugly head.”

Solas wrinkled his brow at her. “So where are you two staying? Surely you must have been in a secluded location to have avoided…everyone?”

Talia opened her mouth to answer, paused as she had an epiphany, and groaned in sudden understanding.

“What?” Felix asked.

“Causality,” she replied, massaging her temples in weariness. As the three continued to goggle at her, she elaborated, “It suddenly occurred to me why you were so knowledgeable about where we’re currently staying.” She gave Solas a look. “Ever heard of a place called ‘Tarasyl'an Te'las’?”

Solas was taken aback for a moment, but turned contemplative. “’The Place Where the Sky is Held’? It’s the first time I’ve ever heard of it.”

“I thought so.” She crossed her arms. “In a few months, I’ll be coming to you, worrying about this ‘Skyhold’ place. And you’ll reassure me that it’s a perfectly defensible fortress—perfect for the Inquisition’s base of operations. I’ve always wondered how you knew about it.” Talia shook her head. “Well now I know.”

Felix was amazed at how the effects of time traveling were unraveling right before his eyes. Even Solas seemed a bit struck. Blackwall looked like he wanted nothing more than to cover his ears and leave all this magical business to the three of them.

“So you’re currently staying at this…Skyhold?” Solas asked.

“We’ve just scouted the place. It’s a little more than a crumbling ruin, but at least the outer walls are intact. We need all the help we can get…hence, this rescue mission,” Felix explained.

“I’d very much like to see this fortress.”

“Probably once we’ve left for Val Royeaux…past-me, that is.” Talia said. “It’s best if you don’t come with us for now, I do remember you being there for the entire time we stayed at the Hinterlands. You also came back to Haven with us. I’ll talk to the Ambassador. Perhaps you two can come to Skyhold after; Josephine can bring a contractor to look at the damage and start on repairs.”

“Can we call past-you something else? At least refer to her in third person or something. It’s getting a bit confusing.” Felix pointed out.

“Thank you,” Blackwall said gratefully.

“Call her Indoril, then.” Talia acquiesced. “Apart from the four of us, the only others who know about this are Leliana, Josephine, Scout Harding and her party.”

“Scout Harding seems like an odd choice, since neither Commander Cullen nor Seeker Pentaghast are on that list,” Solas said.

“An accident. They were the first people we came across after traveling. We weren’t aware of the time travel, so you can imagine our surprise when Harding had no idea what we were talking about,” Talia said dryly.

“Caused quite a bit of panic.” Felix said lightly.

“After you decided to blurt out the truth in front of them.”

“I was in shock.”

“So what now?” Blackwall asked before Talia could respond. “What are you planning?”

Talia exhaled. “For now, we’re looking to build Skyhold into a more…acceptable base. Recruitment is also a top priority.” Hesitantly, she added, “We’re also looking for Warden Stormcrown.”

“The Warden Commander?” Blackwall sounded surprised. “You’re planning on recruiting her for the Inquisition?”

“Not…exactly. It’s mostly personal. We’re sort of kin. And she has information that I need, questions that only she can answer. That’s mostly what we need from you,” Talia told Blackwall.

“I’m afraid I don’t know where the Warden Commander is.” He replied carefully.

“We have a lead, and we figured it’s best to bring a warden if we’re dealing with darkspawn.”

“Darkspawn?” Solas asked warily.

“The Deep Roads,” Talia said solemnly, and got sympathetic looks from all three.

“Who else are you planning to recruit?”

Talia and Felix shared a look. “We’d rather not say,” Felix said carefully. “It ties in with something important happening in the future.”

“Since you’ll be in contact with Indoril a lot, it’s best we don’t say much about our plans. Once it becomes inevitable, or when the timelines catch up to one another, we promise to explain everything.” Talia reassured them.

Solas was disappointed, but understood their rationale.

The group spoke a bit more before concluding their meeting, with Talia and Felix answering what questions they could, and sidestepping those they couldn’t. Blackwall and Felix turned to leave, and when Solas followed suit, Talia spoke to him.

“Solas? A word?”

Felix looked at her questioningly, but she gestured for him and Blackwall to go on.

“Herald?” he asked curiously.

“There’s one more matter I wished to talk to you about.”

Talia recounted her first run-in with Fen’Harel, and when she was done, Solas gave her an inscrutable look.

“When did all of this happen? It can’t be anytime now; Indoril has shown no indication that she’s being visited by Fen’Harel.”

“No,” Talia pursed her lips. “His infiltration of my mind was…subtle. He was first able to talk to me sometime after Val Royeaux. Before that, I didn’t dream much. I had no connection to the Fade before, as you ascertained when you inspected me and the mark. But gradually, I began to dream. And I heard his voice first, a few times before he first appeared.”

“Have you considered that this could just be a person pretending to be Fen’Harel?” he asked.

Talia let out a startled laugh at his words. “Sorry. It’s just that, that’s exactly what you told me at that time.”

“It’s quite strange, hearing you talk about future events in past tense.”

“It’s incredibly unsettling. Especially seeing myself. There are no words to describe how I felt when I saw Indoril by the river.” Talia shook her head. “It was so…surreal.”

“I can imagine,” Solas said sympathetically.

“Going back to Fen’Harel, is it possible that it’s actually him?”

“It’s a possibility, certainly. Though I don’t understand why he’d show himself in the first place. It would make much more sense not to reveal one’s self if the goal was to gather information on you.”

“Who knows? Maybe he’s gone ‘round the bend after years of isolation.” Talia smirked.

Solas didn’t share her humor. “Joke as you will, but whoever this person is, god or not, he seems dangerous. And I would caution against any future interactions with him.”

“I can’t exactly stop him now, can I?” Talia shot back.

“Perhaps you should learn to block him out, then?”

He was offering lessons subtly, Talia was certain of it. But something about what he said and how he said it rang warning bells in Talia’s mind, and she stared at Solas for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll ask Felix for tips later.”

Solas’ face was carefully blank as he agreed. “Of course. Is there anything else you wished to discuss?”

“Nothing for now. You’d best get back to Indoril, she’ll be wondering where you’ve been.”

“Safe journeys, Herald.”

“Safe travels.”

She watched him walk away before turning to the direction of camp. There was something off about Solas, but Talia couldn’t put her finger on it. She controlled and influenced people for a living, and Solas…just now, it seemed as if he was trying to manipulate her into…what? Getting lessons from him?

It sounds ridiculous when she put it that way, but something just felt wrong about that situation, and Talia learned to trust her instincts.

For now, the mystery of Solas would have to wait. She had more pressing concerns.

It was time to find Savith Stormcrown.

Chapter Text

21

Upon reaching Skyhold, Talia’s first course of action was to order everyone to rest. They had all looked like death warmed over them, unsurprising, since they’d been trudging through knee-high snow for the past few days. Blackwall had tried to stay on watch while they rested, but Talia had given him a stern look and eventually wore him down. She knew they were safe in Skyhold—not only was the fortress steeped in defensive magic, but the wards she’d placed around the main hall were still holding.

They spent the next few days slowly clearing up the main hall and some of the adjacent rooms. They were severely undermanned, but they made do with what they had. Blackwall apparently, had spent some of his years helping villages reconstruct their homes after the Blight, and was more knowledgeable about carpentry than either her or Felix. Together, the three of them managed to plan out what to fix in Skyhold.

Despite his illness, Felix insisted on helping, using his magic to do the heavy lifting, clearing rubble here and there. Talia didn’t mention it to him, but she noticed how he deteriorated with each passing day. There was a lethargy to his movement and a paleness to his complexion that he couldn’t hide despite insisting he was all right.

Talia had taken over one of the rooms connecting to the main hall, turning it into a make-shift study for her. She cleared the area out, and pushed a desk to one corner of the room, facing the door. Felix had commented about her paranoia when she put protective wards not just over her doors and window, but also her table.

“It’s not as if anyone can ever read what you write, Talia,” he said in a tone that was more fond than exasperated. Felix wasn’t wrong, but it was better to be careful. She’d also retrieved the Wabbajack from where she’d left it in one of the bedrooms, wrapped it with old, heavy fabric they’d scavenged, and propped it in one corner of the room. She didn’t want anyone seeing the staff. Owning a staff would already make people suspicious, but if they saw what the Wabbajack even looked like...

And if they accidentally cast a spell using it?

The very thought made Talia grimace and cast a chameleon ward over the artifact, ensuring that the staff would remain out of anybody’s sight.

Near the end of their first fortnight in Skyhold, Harding passed by, bringing an entire caravan of men and supplies. At Talia’s raised eyebrow, the dwarf simply gave her a secretive smile and handed over a letter from Leliana.

There wasn’t any fluff in the Spymaster’s correspondences, and for that, Talia was grateful. She gave her a rundown of what was happening in Haven. Indoril had already made her way back to the village, and was preparing for the voyage to Val Royeaux. Leliana and Cassandra would be accompanying her to the meeting with the chantry officials.

Of course, you already know this.

After our conversation, I told Josephine some of what you told me, and we both agreed that you have been truthful this time around. We’ve sent some men to help with the repairs, as well as a dwarven engineer to assess the damage.

We have yet to inform Cullen and Cassandra about the situation, but if we wish to continue working as a cohesive unit, they must be briefed.

I’ll be sending your requested report on Warden Blackwall with my next letter.

Thank you for the Andraste’s Grace.

Talia shook her head at how she ended the letter. Leliana had never acknowledged the flower in any of their conversations, now she knew why.

With the help of the additional men, they’d managed to transform the lowest floor of the fort into a semi-functional base of operations.

Perhaps the most valuable addition to their crew at Skyhold was Gatsi, the Dwarven Engineer that Josephine had sent along with the caravan of supplies. Talia and Blackwall accompanied him around the fortress as he took stock of the damages. They exchanged raised eyebrows as he pressed his ears on the walls and scribbled furiously on his vellum.

As they completed their first circuit of Skyhold, they returned to Talia’s office to discuss Gatsi’s assessment. 

“Well, the good news is that main foundations of the fort are still structurally sound. The undercroft in particular is a work of art, any dwarf worth his salt would be a fool to alter anything down there,” Gatsi said, as he squinted at his list. Talia didn’t know much about buildings, but she listened attentively and looked to Blackwall whenever there was something she couldn’t understand.

“I know a reliable group of stonemasons, and carpenters; they’re staying up near the Fereldan-Orlesian border. They’re affordable, and they’re the best in the business. We can source most of the needed materials from Gwaren and Jader.”

“Isn’t there a dwarven kingdom nearby? Why not from there?” Felix asked curiously.

Gatsi hesitated for a brief moment, but Talia picked up on it right away.

“Is there a problem?”

Gatsi sighed. “Yes, one large problem unfortunately. Orzammar’s currently on high alert. There’s been an issue with the throne. Ever since the King disbanded the Assembly, there’s been…well…a lot of dwarves weren’t happy. There’s been a lot of attacks on the throne, but none have been successful until recently.” He licked his lips in anxiousness. “Apparently someone who’d been banished to the Deep Roads came back and made an attempt on King Bhelen’s life. Even succeeded in killing his left-hand man, Frandlin Ivo.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “That is quite serious. Is Orzammar on lock down, then?”

“Not officially.” He shrugged. “But it may as well be. There’s been a ridiculous amount of security when entering and exiting the kingdom. It might take a long time before you’re able to get the materials you need.”

“I see,” Talia merely said before steering the conversation back to the Skyhold. When they’d finished their briefing, Felix and Blackwall remained in the room while Gatsi left to start listing the needed supplies.

“Well, that complicates matters,” Felix sighed as soon as the door was shut.

“We can still source most of the materials elsewhere.” Blackwall leaned on Talia’s desk.

“The materials aren’t the problem.” Talia pursed her lips. “Stormcrown is in the Deep Roads, and finding her takes priority over everything else.”

“What makes finding the Warden-Commander so important?” Blackwall asked with a frown. “I’m not clear on what her role is to be in the Inquisition.”

Talia glanced at Felix surreptitiously before answering. “Well, as I told you before, she has information I need. And we’re kin…of a sort. There is much the two of us needs to discuss.”

The Warden observed her discreetly as she mentioned being ‘kin’. No doubt, he was still wondering what she was and how she’d come to be. Felix had suggested that she be truthful with Blackwall, but Talia wasn’t so sure. The mere mention of the time-travel incident had shaken him badly; it took days before he became comfortable in their presence again, and even then, he was still on his guard.

What would his reaction be to learning she was displaced through time and space?

“Apart from that,” she continued. “There is the issue with the missing Wardens. Leliana still hasn’t found any information on them, unfortunately.”

“You don’t think they could be responsible for what happened at the Temple?” Blackwall said somewhat defensively. “The Wardens have only ever worked towards the safety of Thedas. And they don’t have any interests in the Chantry.”

Talia raised her hand in a placating gesture. “We’re not saying they had anything to do with it. But they might know something about it. You have to admit that disappearing in such a manner isn’t making them look too good.”

Blackwall grumbled but didn’t dispute her statement.

“You think Orzammar would accept outside aid?” Felix asked suddenly.

“Felix?” she asked curiously.

“There’s only one entrance to the Deep Roads; I’m sure the King won’t allow anyone to go in or out as long as this entire business hasn’t been resolved,” he elaborated. “But, if someone were to hunt down this fiend—,”

“That’s all well and good for entering, but if we don’t actually kill whoever it is that’s been attacking him, he’ll probably have us all executed.” Talia pointed out. “And even if we did manage to get away, I don’t think it’s a good idea to antagonize the ruler of a foreign kingdom.”

“The King may not care about us and our excuses, but he knows Stormcrown doesn’t he?”

Talia was surprised that Felix even knew about that, but not as startled as Blackwall was.

“Really?” the Warden asked.

Felix gave Blackwall an unreadable look before responding. “Yes. I’ve read about it in texts. She settled the civil war when she was enforcing the Grey Warden treaties. I don’t remember the details, but I’m certain the King owes his coronation to her.”

That was right. Talia had read about that as well, how Stormcrown had returned from the Deep Roads with a crown fashioned by one of their missing nobles or some such.

Sighing, Talia pulled a piece of parchment from her drawer and handed Felix some ink.

“If we’re going through with this madness, then we’d better ask what Leliana knows.”

The response from the Spymaster came two days before they were to set out for Orzammar. In the five days they were waiting, the trio wasn’t idle. They pored over their plans, trying to find alternatives to entering and exiting the Deep Roads. Blackwall and Talia often sparred, trying to get used to each other’s fighting style. It took much convincing on her part, but Felix had finally agreed to stay behind and look after Skyhold.

“It’s not just your health I’m worried about, Felix,” she had told the mage as he gave her a skeptical look. “If all of us leave, who will the men look to for instruction? I know there are leaders among the scouts, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if someone I trust is on top of things.”

And while Felix finally relented, he still insisted that Talia bring one of the other scouts or soldiers with them. She thought bringing another would lead to complications, but in the end, she’d asked which of the archers would be willing to follow them into the Deep Roads.

Hadrian was eventually their chosen candidate. He was a young, human scout who excelled in infiltration. And while he did pale at the mention of the dreaded Deep Roads, there was no hesitation when he pledged his bow to their quest.

Blackwall gave them lectures on the different types of darkspawn they could encounter and how best to deal with them. The dunmer had yet to encounter one, so she was more than willing to let the Warden take command. Hadrian was surprisingly insightful, pointing out potential weaknesses in the dark creatures and proposing new techniques and formations he believed useful.

Blackwall was teaching Hadrian some close combat techniques when a scout appeared with Leliana’s letter.

“You should continue the lesson.” Talia waved to Blackwall. “But meet us back at my study when you’re done.”

Felix was already in Talia’s office when she got there, and he looked up from where he was examining some maps to greet her.

“Letters from Leliana.” She waved the folded-up paper. “Let’s see what she has to say about Blackwall before he gets here.”

Leaning against her table, she unfolded the parchment and flattened the creases out of the letter. Felix settled beside her and read along over her shoulder.

Talia frowned as she skimmed the report on Blackwall; Leliana couldn’t find any information on who he was prior to being recruited by the Wardens in Cumberland. She raised her eyebrows when she read that he was the Warden-Constable, and that he’d been awarded something called the “Silverite Wings of Valor”. So, he was essentially the second-in-command? But why was he away from the order for so long? Why didn’t he know anything about the Taint? Why didn’t he know anything about what happened to the Wardens?

“Something doesn’t add up.” As Talia glanced over at Felix, she could see him squinting thoughtfully. “He’s the second-in-command? Then why doesn’t he know what happened to the Wardens of Orlais?”

“I don’t know,” Talia replied. “It’s…strange, to say the least, but Leliana hasn’t found anything incriminating about him.”

“The Grey Wardens are a fairly secretive bunch, though. And Blackwall does strike me as the kind that would follow orders down to the letter.”

That was true.

“Do you think we can trust him?” Talia asked.

Felix looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “We don’t know much about him, but he seems like a genuinely good person. The men I found with him with during our initial meeting…they were farmers, stablehands, the like. None of them had any battle experience, and Blackwall went out of his way to teach them how to swing a sword, block attacks—the basics of survival. He claimed he wanted to recruit them for the Wardens, but I think he just wanted to save those men.”

“He does seem to be the do-gooder type,” Talia agreed.

“Your complete opposite then?” Felix quipped and her lips twitched in amusement. She huffed, but didn’t deny the statement.

“It’s obvious that Blackwall’s hiding something,” Talia said instead. “But…I suppose as long as it doesn’t affect us, he can keep his secrets.”

For now, she added in her mind. Secrets were dangerous things—she should know, she dealt in secrets all the time. But they had more pressing matters to deal with than the mystery that was Blackwall.

Felix gave her a skeptical look, but just as he was about to answer, he was seized by a coughing fit. Talia immediately supported him by the arm and rubbed his back lightly until it subsided. She observed his palms surreptitiously as he straightened, and was relieved that there was no blood.

“Well…that was unpleasant,” he rasped and he wiped tears that gathered in his eyes from the force of his coughing.

“Do you need any water?” she asked lightly. Talia had begun to be more careful in her words. She knew Felix was getting worse, but he didn’t need her to point it out.

“No.” He let out another series of coughs, shorter than the last. “I’ll be fine. Let’s see what Leliana has to say about King Bhelen.”

Though Felix gave her an exasperated look for her efforts, Talia steered him towards a chair and set him down gently and, with a casual flick of her hand, summoned the pitcher and glass from across the room and into her hands.

“That is possibly the most casual use of magic I’ve ever witnessed in my life,” Felix commented incredulously as she poured him a glass of water.

“Magic has always been a part of my life. I use it for every mundane thing I can think of,” she admitted, placing back the pitcher on her table. “Tests your control and helps deepen your magicka pool. I’d have thought you Tevinters did the same.”

“Well, of course.” The mildly affronted tone had Talia chuckling. “But I don’t think I’ve ever summoned a pitcher of water because I was too lazy to walk a few strides.”

“There’s always a first time for everything,” Talia said in amusement. “You’ve already used magic to clear out dust from a room, you’ll get there eventually.”

A sharp knock on the door, announced the arrival of Blackwall. She beckoned to him when he opened the door tentatively.

The Warden nodded at Felix in greeting as he approached.

“How did the lesson with Hadrian go?” Felix asked.

“Well enough. He’s a quick study, managed to think up some new formations that could help us out, Herald.” He addressed the last sentence to Talia.

The dunmer nodded in approval. “We were just about to start with Leliana’s report on Bhelen.”

Talia placed Leliana’s letter on the desk, and the three of them crowded around it. They were silent as they went through Leliana’s report, save for some displeased scoffs from Blackwall and sighs from Felix. The more Talia knew about Bhelen, the more she was discomfited by their coming mission. When she finished, she shared a grimace with the two men.

“I can’t believe he killed one of his brothers and framed the other just to get the throne,” Blackwall said in disgust.

Oh, Talia could believe it. Some people would do anything for a taste of power. She was more surprised that Leliana managed to get this information. Where, when and how, she didn’t know, but she was impressed, nonetheless.

“Ruthless, merciless, and cunning. Not exactly a great combination for us.” Felix sighed.

“It doesn’t look good,” Talia agreed. “Bhelen routinely kills off or exiles his opposition. I’m not seeing what kind of deal we can strike with him that will end with all of us still alive.”

Felix rubbed his jaw, looking thoughtful. “Leliana mentioned that the easiest way would be to mention the Warden.”

“Yes, but in what context?” Talia asked.

“Can’t you claim any relation to her?” Felix leaned back on his chair. “Maybe you can go on to say you’re looking for your sister or something of the sort.”

“Now that Leliana’s revealed this much about Bhelen, I’m a bit worried about our reception if we introduce ourselves as members of the Inquisition.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re quite distinct in appearance,” Felix said somewhat sardonically. “Once Bhelen sees you, he’ll know without a doubt that you’re from the Inquisition.”

“Maybe Hadrian and I should go without you?” Blackwall offered. “I’m a Warden, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for me to be looking for the Warden-Commander. And Hadrian can pose as one as well.”

“It’s not a bad idea…” Talia pursed her lips in thought. “But I doubt you’ll be able to convince Stormcrown to come with you without me.”

“Well…what if there was a way for Blackwall and Hadrian to pose as Wardens, but you get to accompany them at the same time?” Felix suddenly said.

Blackwall frowned. “I’m not seeing how she can sneak in without being seen. As far as we know, there’s only one entrance into the mountain.”

“Well, you know…” Felix rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort and sent Talia a meaningful glance that left her confused.

Blackwall raised his eyebrow at the mage’s odd behavior. “We know…?”

“Just spit it out, Felix,” Talia said impatiently.

Felix shrugged as if to say ‘well, I tried’. “The ring.”

“The ring?” Blackwall asked in bemusement.

“Ah,” she said in understanding.

Felix gave her another glance and tilted his head in Blackwall’s direction. The Warden, to his credit, tried not to look as annoyed as he probably felt. “Are you going to explain…?”

Talia hesitated briefly before reaching into her pocket. As much as possible, she didn’t want to show or explain the daedric artifacts she had to anyone. Even on Nirn, it wasn’t something that could be announced and paraded around. She pulled out the Ring of Khajiiti from her pocket and tilted it towards the wall sconce, allowing Blackwall to see it clearly.

“It’s…a family heirloom,” Talia lied. “Enchanted with a chameleon spell.” When Blackwall still looked confused, she elaborated, “It makes me almost invisible.”

“Almost invisible?”

She gave Blackwall a small smile, before putting it on.

As her body disappeared, Blackwall jerked away in surprise, and even Felix jumped a little.

“It’s not fool proof in any way.” The Warden whipped his head around in shock as she spoke. “Here, watch the light sconce.”

Talia lifted her hand and slowly waved it in front of the light. The look of concentration on both their faces as they tried catching a glimpse of her hand was quite amusing.

“You’re right,” Blackwall said after a moment. “There’s a strange distortion in the air. Is that your hand?”

“What? I can’t see anything.” Felix frowned.

“It can be difficult to see, but it is possible,” Talia said as she took off the ring. Both flinched as she reappeared. “The ring lets me blend with my surroundings, but it’s not an invisibility spell. If there’s a strong enough light source, they will spot me.”

But it was a good idea, brilliant in fact. There would be problems if there would be conflicting stories about where she currently was. Especially due to the sensitive nature of their meeting in Val Royeaux.

Blackwall nodded. “You can follow behind me and Hadrian. Or avail yourself of a dark corner in the room while we convince the King?”

That was the part that Talia was worried about. While she admired Blackwall’s skill with a sword, she wasn’t too impressed with his diplomacy.

“Maybe we can get Hadrian to do most of the talking?” Felix piped up. “He was originally Leliana’s agent wasn’t he? That means he’s had experience with this sort of thing.”

“I agree,” Talia said. “We can go over what we think the King will ask and how both of you should respond. And I’ll be there to intervene and help both of you with answering the King’s questions. Just…try not to react when I start whispering in your ear.”

Blackwall grimaced. “That’s easier said than done.”

“Then we’ll have to practice a lot, don’t we?” She shared a determined look with the two men before they hunkered down and concretized their plan of action.

The day of their departure dawned bright and early. For once, the wind wasn’t howling at the Frostbacks and snow wasn’t falling. While it was still cold, it was far from the freezing temperatures Talia had come to associate with the area.

She was saddling her horse, a beautiful chestnut-colored Dalish All-Bred. Sylvia, the woman assigned to the stables, had assured her that it was from good stock, raised by Master Dennet himself. Talia had spent some time getting to know the animal before their departure, grooming him and feeding him some treats. It was a proud thing, but fiercely loyal to Talia, and wouldn’t allow any other to mount him. The haughty way it tossed its mane and, for lack of better term, glared at anyone who tried to touch it reminded Talia of a certain uptight and prickly guard captain.

And so, she’d lovingly named the beast Hieronymus.

When Blackwall had first heard her call her horse by its name, he had given her an incredulous look. She had raised an eyebrow, daring him to say anything against her choice, and he’d hastily assured her it was a fine name.

Felix had no such qualms.

“Hieronymus? Really?”

The Tevinter was seeing them off, despite Talia’s gentle suggestions that he should probably start resting a bit more.

“What? It suits him.” She shrugged.

“’Demon’ might be a more apt name,” he said drily, and Talia chuckled lightly.

“He just reminds me of someone.” She stroked the horse’s mane fondly. “A story for another day.” She forestalled his questions.

“Well, here’s hoping I’ll still be around to hear that story.”

Talia paused in her ministrations and turned to the mage. Felix gave her a small, sad smile.

“I suppose this is goodbye, for now?” he asked, extending his hand for a friendly shake.

Talia smiled as she gripped Felix’s hand. “Yes,” she said, as she tugged him forward. His surprise made it easy for Talia to pull him forward into a hug. “We’ll see each other soon.”

Felix squeezed once before letting her go.  

“Are we ready to leave?” Talia turned to Hadrian as the scout approached, already on his horse.

“Everything’s ready, Your Worship.”

Talia nodded at him, and mounted her horse. She looked down at Felix and smiled. “See you soon.” She turned to the two men accompanying her. “Let’s go.” She spurred her horse forward.

As they passed the stone bridge, Talia paused and looked back at Skyhold. Felix was still standing near the gates, and while she couldn’t see him very clearly, she thought he looked melancholic. Resigned to his fate…his death.

I’ll come back for you. I will save you.

“My lady?” Blackwall asked.

Talia was filled with newfound determination. “It’s nothing. Lead the way, Blackwall.”

Their trip was mostly quiet. Talia wasn’t in any mood to do small talk, still lost in her thoughts about Stormcrown, Felix, and what was waiting for them in Orzammar. Blackwall picked up on her mood, and decided not to engage her, while Hadrian just seemed to be nervous.

The sun was already sinking in the sky when Blackwall signaled for them to stop. They were still a good hour or two away from Orzammar’s gates, but they had to regroup before continuing their trip.

The three went over their plan as Blackwall and Hadrian suited up.

There were a few parts of some Grey Warden armor found in the pile of mail, shields, and weapons brought into Skyhold by Harding. Blackwall managed to find a chestpiece, a pair of pauldrons, and vambraces that fit him, and Talia looked for other armor parts that didn’t look too out of place with the rest of his outfit.

Hadrian’s case was a bit harder, they found some leather armor, and had to incorporate parts of a Warden battlemage’s armor to his cuirass.

“I feel like an impostor in these clothes,” Hadrian muttered as he flexed his arms, testing his flexibility.

“You are an impostor.” Talia said in amusement, and the man flushed in embarrassment.

“Unless there’s another Warden there, I doubt they’ll notice anything out of place. If that happens, I’ll just say you’re my recruit,” Blackwall reassured them. He turned to Talia. “Will you be riding with me, or Hadrian?”

Blackwall had been the one to point out that even if the person was somewhat invisible, a horse that was burdened with someone looked very different from one that wasn’t; someone might notice the depressed saddle. Apart from that, it would be difficult to ride the horse without holding onto its reins, and floating leather straps might tip the guards off.

“I think it would be more prudent to ride with Hadrian.” He took up less space than Blackwall on the saddle, and she would be seated behind him. Hopefully, the darkness would cover the fact that his armor would be pressing up against an invisible barrier.

“What about footprints, your Worship?” Hadrian asked. “There’s snow everywhere…”

“Let me handle the footprints,” Talia said firmly. Water walking spells worked for all types of water, including snow. She’d found out accidentally while on an assignment in Bruma before. Both Blackwall and Hadrian had yet to be made aware of her magic, and she intended for it to stay that way until absolutely necessary.

Hadrian mounted his horse, and Talia settled in behind him before putting on the ring. Blackwall gave them a once-over before getting on his own horse. Their packs had all been transferred onto Hieronymus, and the reins on her horse were tied to Blackwall’s.

It was nightfall when they were finally approaching the gates to Orzammar. The path to the stronghold eventually widened into a large clearing, where different dwarven merchants had set up shop.

Talia marveled at the place as they approached. The entrance to the Dwarven Kingdom was carved into the mountain and there were two statues of dwarves towering over them on either side of the gate. Above the gates was a sentry station with two flags protruding from each side. Two of the guards stationed near the gates started walking towards them, and both Blackwall and Hadrian stopped their approach. The dunmer silently cast a water-walking spell, along with a muffle, and dismounted the horse before the guards could come near. Hadrian twitched almost imperceptibly as she did, but otherwise, showed no indication of her movement.

One of the guards grinned at them, but the other looked disgruntled at seeing the two, and eyed their uniforms warily. The two dismounted their horses once the guards were a few meters away.

“Hail, travelers. What brings you to the gates of Orzammar?”

“Greetings.” Hadrian gave them a polite smile, bringing one fist to his chest in salute. “I am Hadrian, and this is Constable Blackwall, Wardens of the Grey. We would like to request passage into the Deep Roads.”

“Well you can’t, Orzammar’s closed to outsiders.” The rude guard said flatly. His companion gave him a dubious look, which Hadrian seemed to notice as well.

“I’m afraid that’s not an option for us,” Hadrian said seriously. “This task is of utmost importance not just to our unit but to the entirety of the Order. We must enter the Deep Roads.”

“And I already said that you can’t,” he snapped. “I don’t care who you are, no one’s entering Orzammar tonight.”

Hadrian narrowed his eyes. “Surely you don’t want to be known as the guard who obstructed the Wardens from performing their duties?”

“What?”

“As I’ve mentioned, this task comes from the top of the command chain. If we come back empty handed, whose name do you think are we going to mention?”

“And why would I care about which of you assholes knows my name?”

“What do you think will happen if we aren’t able to enter the Deep Roads?” Hadrian crossed his arms. “The Commander will lodge a complaint with King Bhelen, and guess who’s going to have to take the brunt of the King’s wrath?”

As the guard paled, Talia couldn’t help but be impressed with how Hadrian was handling the situation so far.

The young man shrugged. “If you still don’t want to grant us entrance,” he smirked. “I can always just invoke the Right of Conscription.”

The guard looked like he would faint, though his companion seemed amused at what was happening. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, I can and I will,” he said in a deadly quiet voice. “As I am a generous man, I shall give you until the count of three to decide your fate.”

“B-but, but—!”

“Three.” He gave the guard a smirk, before pitching his voice loudly. “I invoke the Right of—,”

“Stop, stop! All right! You can enter. But we don’t decide who goes in and out of the Deep Roads. And before you complain, only the King can grant permission. Now, get out of my sight!”

The guard stomped away, with his companion snickering. As they moved away from them, the three could still hear their conversation faintly. “You know, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t flappin’ your gums about, now would it?”

“Shut your trap.”

“You do know,” Blackwall said slowly as they led their horses to the stable at the side of the mountain, “that we’re giving the Wardens a bad name by throwing around the right of conscription?”

“Meh.” Hadrian shrugged. “I got us through the gates, didn’t I? I wouldn’t have done that if Orzammar’s gates were truly closed to outsiders. The fact that the other guard gave our almost-warden-recruit a strange look after mentioning it made me suspicious. Besides, if the command actually came from the King, he would have led with that. And he wouldn’t have caved to our demands.”

“Good job, Hadrian,” Talia said from somewhere behind them, and the two stiffened slightly before relaxing. “Don’t answer,” she added when Blackwall opened his mouth to speak. “I’ll be following right behind you.”

A different pair of guards met them at the gates and escorted them into the kingdom. The foyer was a large hall with various statues of different dwarves on either side of the hall. Talia squinted at the writing on one of the figures, and it read “Paragon Caridin”. She assumed they were revered ancestors.

The next door opened to a large area, with a high enough ceiling that Talia had trouble spying it due to the dark. They walked across a large stone bridge, and when she looked down, the dunmer could see various other bridges and roads that led to different areas of the kingdom.

As they made their way to the palace, Talia kept her attention to the conversation Hadrian was having with their escorts. It was quite amazing to see him in his element, chatting with the guards, casually interjecting questions that let them learn more about what was happening in the kingdom.

It turned out that Orzammar was closed to outsiders, but this didn’t include Grey Wardens. It wasn’t just Frandlin Ivo that was killed, but also some deshyrs. After the deaths, Bhelen, through some convoluted Dwarven politics, managed to disband the Assembly, leaving him the sole power in Orzammar. Naturally, this caused some unrest, but dissenters were silenced swiftly.

The King apparently had grown paranoid due to the incident. Guards were stationed all around Orzammar, but he seemed to be focusing on the Deep Roads specifically. All guards that were at the Deep Roads entrance the night of the assassination were executed under grounds of treason. As Gatsi had mentioned, the suspected criminal was someone who’d been exiled from Orzammar years ago.

As they entered the palace, Talia noted that the everything seemed to be made out of stone and metal. If she had to compare it to what she knew, the layout seemed similar to Dwemer ruins she’d lightly explored in Skyrim.

They stopped before the throne room, and the chatty guard set out to look for the new steward. Just before leaving, he said a passing remark that made all three of them stop in their tracks.

“So, you gonna meet up with your Warden buddy?”

“Pardon?” Hadrian asked in confusion.

“The one that arrived a few weeks ago? What was his name?” the guard asked his companion, who only shrugged back. “Eh, not important. Tall human, long hair, face looked like it sucked on a really sour lemon.”

Talia cursed in her mind. Their entire plan hinged on the fact that no one would be able to recognize them. Another Warden would complicate matters.

To Hadrian’s credit, he managed to recover quickly. “Hmm. He’s not familiar. Must have been sent from a different branch.”

“Huh. Well, he’s staying over at the Tapster’s Tavern, if you’ll be looking for him.”

“Thanks,” Hadrian said. “We’ll look for him after everything’s done.”

“Paragon’s blessings unto you, Wardens,” he said before leaving. The other guard seemed content to stay quiet. Hadrian and Blackwall were giving each other meaningful looks, but were unable to speak freely due to the presence of the guard.

Talia looked around the room, looking for a good way to distract the guard. She spotted a dwarf noble seated on a bench near two suits of armor. With a telekinesis spell, she pulled both suits down onto the dwarf. The loud crash alerted all guards in the room, and the dwarf’s shout had them all leaping from their posts to help her.

Blackwall and Hadrian both jumped and stared at the ensuing chaos. The Warden recovered more quickly, looking around him surreptitiously and speaking quietly, “My lady?”

“I’m here,” Talia said quietly. “This mysterious Warden in Orzammar may be a problem, but if it’s at all possible, we should avoid going to the Tapster’s Tavern, or anywhere near the area. It may be best not to interact with him at all.”

“But what do we do if it’s inevitable? Surely after meeting the King today, he’ll insist on meeting us together with the other Warden?” Hadrian asked.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Blackwall said firmly. “For now, we focus on the meeting with the King.”

“I agree,” Talia said. She spied the chatty guard towing a harried-looking noble with him. “Look sharp, they’re back.”

“My apologies, Wardens.” The noble greeted as he approached and shook both their hands, introducing himself as Wollum. “Have you been waiting long? Things have been quite…” He waved his hand in lieu of describing the Kingdom’s state. “I assume you are here to ask permission to enter the Deep Roads?”

“Yes. Warden Blackwall and I have been tasked with an important mission from our Warden-Regent.”

“This seems like an urgent matter. Well,” he clapped his hands together. “The King is currently in a meeting with another, but given who you are and well…I’m sure you can all discuss it together.”

Both Blackwall and Hadrian looked nonplussed at what Wollum was saying, but Talia understood what he said immediately, and she almost cursed out loud. The doors opened, and Wollum announced them.

“Your Majesty, may I present Warden-Constable Blackwall, and Warden Hadrian Threnhold?”

“You may approach.” Came Bhelen’s booming voice.

The man standing near the throne was exactly how the guard had described him. He was tall, with long, dark hair, and a scowl that rivalled Cassandra’s on a bad day. As they approached the throne, he looked at the two men suspiciously.

Blackwall and Hadrian looked surprised at the presence of the other Warden, but thankfully, none of the horror Talia knew they felt seeped into their expressions. Both men glanced at the other man briefly before bowing in front of the King. “Your Majesty.”

“Welcome, welcome, Wardens Blackwall and Threnhold to Orzammar.” His tone was jovial, but Talia could see the sharpness in his eyes as he spoke. “What brings more Wardens to these Dwarven halls?”

Hadrian’s eyes flickered over to the other warden before speaking. “Your Majesty. Warden Blackwall and I come before you to ask your permission to enter the Deep Roads.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “Warden-Commander Stormcrown is urgently needed at our headquarters, and we have been tasked in searching for her. Our orders come from the Warden-Regent—,”

“Oh?” Bhelen all but purred, and Hadrian paused in speaking. “How very interesting.”

Talia narrowed her eyes. What did the King know that they didn’t?

The dwarf turned to the other Warden and addressed him. “Is that right…Warden-Regent Howe?”

Fuck. Talia thought as both Hadrian and Blackwall stiffened. Talia summoned a compulsion spell in her hand, ready to cast it onto the King or the other Warden. But the unthinkable happened next.

Howe straightened, looked Bhelen in the eye, and lied. “They were not referring to me. Warden Hadrian and Blackwall are both from the Wardens of Tantervale. Warden-Regent Celeste reached out to me weeks ago for the whereabouts of Warden-Commander Stormcrown, and I informed them she was currently in the Deep Roads.”

Thankfully, neither Blackwall nor Hadrian gaped but Talia could sense the bewilderment in their eyes. Talia rubbed her brow in annoyance. She hadn’t anticipated how difficult it was, to be on the sidelines and be unable to intervene.

Bhelen grunted, looking mildly put out. “I see. Well, as I’ve told you again and again, I cannot do this while the threat of assassination looms over me.”

“King Bhelen,” Howe said exasperatedly. “I fail to understand how allowing the Wardens through to the Deep Roads increases your risk of assassination. If you fear that this assassin is hiding out there, then you may post a hundred guards at the entrance while we step foot inside. But we must enter the Deep Roads.”

The King gave Howe a cold look. “And I have already said what I need from you to get my permission.”

“The Wardens are neutral.”

Bhelen scoffed. “Tell that to Savith. She ended the civil war and put me on the throne. The Grey Wardens can intervene whenever they wish, Warden Howe. You cannot claim otherwise.”

“The Deep Roads is a large place, you cannot expect us to—,”

“Do not presume what I can and cannot do in my own kingdom, Warden Howe.” Bhelen’s voice turned dangerous, and Hadrian stepped forward to diffuse the situation.

“King Bhelen, if my understanding is correct, you wish for the Wardens to seek out this assassin, presumably hiding out in the Deep Roads?” When Bhelen grunted his assent, Hadrian continued. “Our search for Warden-Commander Stormcrown takes precedence, as it is a direct command from our superior.” He stood rigid as both Bhelen and Howe glowered at him. “However, once our task has been completed, we can present Warden Stormcrown to you, and then further discuss the situation with the assassin.”

When Bhelen said nothing, Hadrian added, “The Warden Commander would likely prefer to be a part of this investigation into the assassin, especially since she knows you personally, and has spoken highly of you in the past.”

The dwarven king narrowed his eyes but let out a hearty laugh. “You speak flowery words, young Warden. Very well. I accept these terms.”

Hadrian bowed, and Talia could see the relief in his eyes.

“But I cannot hold you on your word alone,” he added casually, and Talia could see Blackwall tense. “I will have to ask you to stay here to help guard me. The assassins could attack anytime, you see.”

A hostage. Talia thought. That was bad, but likely the best deal they were going to get.

“I understand,” Hadrian said bravely, and Talia couldn’t be more proud of the young man. “But the decision rests on Warden-Regent Howe, as he is the highest ranking Warden here?”

Howe pursed his lips, but sighed and nodded tightly. “Very well.”

“Excellent. We shall have a hearty meal before you depart tomorrow. Wollum will collect you from the Tapster’s Tavern.”

And without another word, he dismissed them.

Howe’s body was taut as they exited the palace and made their way to the tavern. Blackwall and Hadrian shot each other worried looks as they followed after him, and Talia readied her dagger as they ascended the steps to Howe’s room. Once they made their way in, Howe bolted the doors, and Talia cast a muffle spell on the room.

Without warning, the Warden whirled around far too quickly and pinned Hadrian to the wall, a dagger by his throat.

“Who are you?” he asked dangerously. “I know you’re not Wardens. Why are you looking for Savith Stormcrown?”

Blackwall had his blade out, but Talia got there first. She pressed the Blade of Woe to Howe’s exposed throat, and he stiffened as the cold metal kissed his skin.

“Let him go,” Talia said softly. “And I promise to answer all your questions.”

There was a moment of indecision before Howe dropped his blade, and Hadrian moved towards Blackwall and not so subtly hid behind him.

“Who are you?”

Talia sheathed her dagger and removed the Ring of Khajiiti. Howe’s eyes widened as he took in her appearance. “You’re—,”

“Talia Indoril.”

“You’re that Herald from the Inquisition? I’ve heard rumors, but I didn’t think—,” He shook his head. “Are you related to Savith then? Is that why you’re looking for her?”

Talia sighed. “In a manner of speaking. We share family, though we aren’t directly related.”

Howe narrowed his eyes. “Why the deception then? Why go through this farce? You could have approached Bhelen on behalf of the Inquisition.”

“Due to circumstances I cannot freely divulge,” Talia said, referring to her accidental time travel. “It is paramount that Bhelen does not know that I am here…or anyone else for that matter. As for the ‘farce’, it was the simplest explanation we could think of that wouldn’t raise much suspicion. Your presence here was simply…chance. Besides, Blackwall is an actual Warden, Hadrian is not.”

Howe eyed Blackwall before turning to Hadrian. “Much as it chafes me to commend you for what you did, I highly doubt we would have been able to enter the Deep Roads without your intervention.”

Hadrian eyed him nervously before nodding. “It was the only thing I could think of. It worked out rather well, except for the part where I became a willing hostage.”

Blackwall clapped him on the back. “You did well, and I believe you will continue to do so.”

“I agree with Blackwall,” Talia said. “You’ve shown real skill in speech, and your ability to adapt to the given situation was rather masterful.”

“Thank you, Your Worship.” The young man turned bright red.

“So,” Talia turned to Howe. “This isn’t the ideal situation for any of us. But I do believe we share a similar goal.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” she agreed.

Howe sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Before we start, I need to speak with him.” He pointed to Blackwall with his free hand, and the Warden started.

“What about?” Talia asked curiously.

“Warden business,” he said sharply. Howe grabbed Blackwall by the elbow and all but hauled him out of the room.

Talia didn’t try to eavesdrop, since she wasn’t alone, though she was sorely tempted to. Silence permeated between her and Hadrian for a quite some time before he broke it.

“I wonder what they’re discussing,” Hadrian said, as he took a seat on one of the chairs.

“What’s your opinion of Warden Howe?”

“Too serious for his own good. Adaptable. Cunning, and smart.”

“That lie about the Wardens of Tantervale was done rather smoothly,” she agreed.

“Loyal to Savith Stormcrown. As long as we can get her on our side, he will follow her lead.”

Their conversation was cut short as the two returned. When Blackwall and Howe entered the room, their companion was bone white, while Howe had a grim look on his face.

Talia raised an eyebrow at Blackwall, but he shook his head ruefully.

“I don’t trust any of you,” Howe said bluntly.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hadrian muttered.

“Trust cannot be given so easily in times such as these,” Talia said. “But we have no choice but to work together to find Savith.”

And finally get some answers. She thought.

Talia extended her hand, and Howe, after a moment’s hesitance, reached out and shook it firmly.

“We appreciate your help, Warden Howe.”

The man spread out a map of the Deep Roads onto the table, before sighing. “Call me Nathaniel.”

“Nathaniel, then.”

As the four of them bent over the map, Talia couldn’t help but be worried and excited for what was to come. A step closer to Savith Stormcrown was a step closer to getting back to Nirn.

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a tense affair.

Blackwall, Hadrian, and Nathaniel moved stiffly as they sat at the dwarven king’s table. Bhelen seemed oblivious to the tension, and he spoke in his booming voice, talking on and on about everything and nothing. Blackwall was seated closest to the King, and was the recipient of many a shoulder thump that had the warden gritting his teeth.

Talia stayed near their table as they ate, observing their interactions. Hadrian, bless the young man, did his best to sneak her some bread and cheese as discreetly as he could.

“So young warden,” Bhelen said after taking a large gulp of his ale. “I trust you remember that you will be staying here until Wardens Howe and Blackwall come back.”

It was only due to her proximity to Hadrian that she heard his sharp intake of breath. He plastered a smile on his face that didn’t betray his anxiousness. “Ah, of course King Bhelen. It would be quite worrying if my memory had started failing me at such a young age!”

“I shall pry quite a lot of stories from you, I suspect.”

“You suspect correctly!”

“I see.” There was as gleam in Bhelen’s eyes as he looked at Hadrian over the rim of his cup. “And what shall I do with you if your companions are unable to find Savith?”

There was a pause as the question sunk in. Nathaniel was the first to recover.

“The Warden Commander will come back, King Bhelen,” he said firmly, not looking over at the king as he speared a potato.

“And if she does not?” Bhelen asked with what sounded like feigned nonchalance.

“Then I suspect we will get to know each other quite well, my king!” Hadrian smiled genially.

Bhelen chortled. “Your glib tongue will get you killed one day, young man!”

The smile on Hadrian’s face froze. Luckily, Bhelen was glancing down at his chalice, and didn’t see. Blackwall was clenching his fork so tightly, he was having difficulty hiding the tension in his eyes. Talia brushed a hand on his arm, and cast a mild calm spell over him. Slowly, the man got hold of his expression back to forced neutrality.

Nathaniel patted his lips with a napkin primly before nodding. “We thank you for your hospitality, King Bhelen, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we can come back with the Warden-Commander.”

“I certainly hope so, Warden-Regent Howe. It would be a shame if young Hadrian here ran out of stories to tell before you come back.”

There was a not-so-subtle threat in the King’s tone. Nathaniel, to his credit, simply inclined his head and said, “It would certainly be.”

Bhelen’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, but otherwise, didn’t react. “The guards at the Deep Roads entrance have been informed of your arrival.” Turning to Hadrian, he said, “A room has been prepared for you here in the palace, Warden Threnhold. Wollum will escort you. Now.” He stood from the table. “I have other matters to attend to. Paragons’ blessings go with you, Wardens.” And with that, the King swept from the room, taking with him his ridiculously large retinue of guards.

There was naked relief on Blackwall’s face as he pushed away from the table, following Nathaniel, who had stood up to leave. He turned to Hadrian and addressed him, “Stay safe, Hadrian. Warden Howe and I will be back before you know it.”

Hadrian gave them both a nervous look, but nodded. “I look forward to seeing Skyhold after this.”

They were being watched by guards, so Talia couldn’t speak. But she lightly touched Hadrian’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before they turned to leave.

The Deep Roads were cold, dark, and damp.

Dangerous. Talia thought as they made their way through the dwarven underground. It was clear that the place had once been a sight to behold. What little she could make out from the faded paints, cracked walls, and splintered tiles told her a story of lost Kingdoms and civilizations. Though they did not look at all similar, Talia was strongly reminded of the Ayleid ruins spread across Cyrodiil, if only because they had the same feel to it.

Nathaniel slowed to a stop as they rounded the first corner. “Talia, I think you can remove your ring now.”

Ah. In truth, she’d forgotten she was still wearing it. As the chameleon enchantment melted off her, Blackwall flinched in surprise. Nathaniel watched her for a moment as she stowed the ring in her pocket, looking discomfited.

“What is it?” she asked.

“There are darkspawn just ahead.” He frowned. “I can’t tell what type. We’re far enough that they can only get a grasp of our general location. But you’d better wear the hood and cowl. Covering up would be the best precaution against the Taint.”

“You can sense the darkspawn?” she asked in surprise.

“All wardens can,” he said, and added more pointedly. “I’m surprised Warden Blackwall hadn’t sought it fit to tell you this information.”

It would have been good to know, she agreed in her mind. However, she could see that Blackwall seemed contrite; his lips were pressed into a thin line, and he looked upset, so Talia decided not to voice her displeasure.

She covered the lower half of her face with the cowl, and pulled up her hood. Blackwall stared at her as she unsheathed her daggers, and she quirked a brow at him.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” He averted his eyes. “You just look quite…formidable when you’re wearing that.”

Nathaniel gave an uncharacteristic snort. “What he means is that seeing nothing but your red eyes is unnerving.”

A laugh escaped Talia. “Indeed?” She could see Blackwall flushing before he hid his face behind a helmet.

“I believe we are all quite ready to kill the darkspawn,” Blackwall said loudly, attempting to cover his embarrassment.

Nathaniel readied his bow. “Follow my lead.”

There was no point in attempting to ambush the darkspawn, since they could sense the presence of the wardens among them. As they jumped into battle, Nathaniel immediately nailed one with an arrow to the forehead, and another through the mouth. Talia gave him an appraising look before crossing blades with a hurlock.

Blackwall’s descriptions didn’t do the darkspawn justice; they were fouler than any other dark creature Talia had come across, and she’d seen quite a lot in her 74 years on Nirn. It was shaped vaguely like a man, in that it was tall and had arms and legs, but that was where the similarities ended. Its face was akin to a misshapen skull, haphazardly covered in rotting flesh. And somehow, it smelled worse than it looked.

Talia ducked as the darkspawn swung at her head, and parried a sneaky blow at her flank by a genlock. She dodged to the side quickly as she sliced her dagger across the hurlock’s neck, deftly avoiding the spray of dark blood. The genlock raised his axe and bellowed. In the next second, an arrow was protruding from its hand, and his weapon was on the ground. Talia took the chance and buried both blades into its skull. She looked over to where Nathaniel was perched on a tall structure, shooting at the darkspawn indiscriminately. He gave her a small nod, but as he turned and notched another arrow, Talia could see a soft smirk grace his features.

Show off, Talia thought, a similar smirk forming on her mouth.

As she turned back to the battle, she saw something creeping towards Blackwall while he shielded himself from a hurlock’s arrows. Talia grabbed two knives and threw them at the figure. As her knives buried themselves on its back, it gave an unholy shriek that made her wince. The darkspawn spun around, Blackwall temporarily forgotten as its eyes sought her. So busy it was with her, that it failed to notice the warden as he swung his sword around and lopped off its head.

With the last of the darkspawn dead, Nathaniel leapt down from his vantage point, and made his way towards them. Talia started to wipe her daggers clean of the blood, but the archer shook his head solemnly at her.

“That’s a lost cause.”

“And why is that?”

He gestured towards the fallen darkspawn. “This will be the norm for the next few hours. I suggest wiping down your weapons when we make camp instead. Otherwise, you’ll be wiping your blades the entire day.”

Sadly, Nathaniel was right. By her count, they ran into no less than seven different darkspawn groups throughout the next few hours. The dunmer was willing to bet she’d have encountered at least one of every darkspawn type by the end of their trip.

Though she didn’t like the idea of Hadrian being stuck with Bhelen of all people, she was silently glad to have Nathaniel instead of him in the party. Throughout the day, the warden proved to be a highly capable fighter. He was ridiculously good with a bow, and even his close quarters combat skills weren’t so bad. It took some time for him to adjust to their fighting style, but Nathaniel complemented her and Blackwall in a way that Hadrian had not.

The warden called for a halt just as they passed through a half-collapsed doorway into an expansive room. He surveyed the area with pursed lips and seemed to judge it passable, as he said, “I think we can rest here.”

They set up camp in one corner of the room. It was an area that wasn’t very defensible, there weren’t any high walls or ruins, but it did have small stone structures that they could at least hide behind, in the event of an attack. The lack of towering structures at least ensured they couldn’t get ambushed; while any traveler would be able to see them across the wide corridor, they’d be able to see them in turn.

Though Nathaniel stayed silent, Talia was under the impression that he had something to ask her. He kept eyeing her every so often as she puttered around the camp. So when they settled in their bedrolls, Talia surreptitiously sent a sleeping spell towards Blackwall, and waited for a few moments as he started snoring lightly.

Nathaniel was on first watch, and when he completed a circuit of their small campsite, he took a seat by the fire across her.

“You’ve been itching to ask me something the entire day,” Talia prompted.

He opened his mouth but stopped himself abruptly, and glanced at Blackwall’s form suspiciously. Talia waved away his concerns.

“He’s a rather deep sleeper. Unless you start shouting, I don’t think he’ll wake.”

Nathaniel gave her a dubious look. “A seasoned warrior like that? I doubt it.”

“Trust me.” She flashed him a smile, and it amused her that he looked even more sour at her words.

“I was thinking more of your privacy, but since you insist…” He paused as if gathering his thoughts.

Talia patiently waited for the warden to voice his thoughts. He gave her another quick once over before speaking.

“I assume you are also from…Skyrim?”

Talia’s expression twisted into a moue of annoyance. “Did Stormcrown tell everyone where she came from?”

There was a twitch in Nathaniel’s face that spoke of his amusement. “No, but I am her second-in-command.”

Looking away from him, Talia shook her head. “I suppose I understand why everyone would think I’m from that desolate snowbank. But while I lived in Skyrim for some time, I reside in an altogether different country now…or at least before I came here.”

“You said you shared family, but that you’re not directly related?” Nathaniel fixed her with a piercing look. “What did you mean by that?”

“This is starting to sound like an interrogation,” she commented mildly.

“You can take my question in whatever way you want,” he replied bluntly.

Talia raised an eyebrow. “I can’t answer your question without knowing how much you know about her.”

The man scoffed at her. “A rather unsubtle way to get me to spill her secrets I suppose?”

Smirking, Talia raised her hands in concession. “I don’t know how much you know about her, and I don’t want to unknowingly share her secrets to someone who doesn’t know them.”

If possible, Nathaniel’s scowl grew deeper. “I’m not a fool. It’s clear you don’t know her, or you’ve never met her.”

“No, I haven’t,” Talia admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I know nothing about her.”

“What do you really want with her?”

So, they finally came to the meat of the conversation. The warden was worried about her intentions.

While it was quite enjoyable to rile up Nathaniel, Talia knew she needed him on her side. “I only said she was family because it’s the easiest explanation. Neither Blackwall nor Hadrian know where I come from. And before you asked me, I thought you did not either.” She shifted in her seat.

“So?” he asked expectantly.

“I honestly thought it was obvious.”

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow. “Obvious?”

“As far as we know, we’re the only two dunmer in Thedas. I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know if Stormcrown knows how she got here. But between the two of us, we could figure it out, and maybe get back to Nirn.”

Talia wasn’t sure why Nathaniel looked so startled at her words. She cocked her head to the side. “Why does this surprise you?”

“I suppose I never…” he stopped.

“Yes?”

“Never mind.” Nathaniel shook his head. “So that’s all you want with her then?”

“I’m not entirely sure what answer you’re looking for.”

“I assumed you needed the Grey Wardens’ aid.”

“And if I did?”

“If it were up to me, I’d tell you and your Inquisition to piss off,” Nathaniel said in annoyance. “The Wardens are already stretched thin as it is.”

Talia eyed him. “But it isn’t up to you?”

 “No, I am not the Warden-Commander. And while I do make decisions in her place, I think this one is above my pay grade.” He sighed and brought a hand up to cradle his face, massaging his temples.

“Are you all right?” she asked. Now that she’d had time to observe him, she realized he looked ashen, as if he were in some pain.

“Yes,” he said curtly, immediately dropping his hand, as if it was incriminating him in some way.

“Hmm. Since you’re in a…sharing mood,” Talia ventured, immediately getting a disgruntled look from Nathaniel. “Perhaps you can answer a question for me.”

“What?”

“Leliana told me that the wardens from Amaranthine disappeared.”

“Yes, and?”

“If I’m not mistaken, that’s Stormcrown’s regiment.”

“I’m not hearing the question,” he said testily.

His sour mood made Talia smirk. “No need to get so upset,” then she added quickly before he could get in another snarky remark, “Why did you leave?”

“Needed a change of scenery,” he grunted.

Talia couldn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes at the man. “Of course. And the real reason?”

Nathaniel grimaced, but otherwise stayed silent.

“Well, maybe you can tell Blackwall and he can tell it to me then.” She said half-jokingly. If possible, Nathaniel grew even more agitated.

“Not likely,” he growled.

Talia wanted to ask what he had against the other man, but figured now wouldn’t be the best time to push. “I suppose I can wait till I can speak with Stormcrown, then.”

“Right,” he scoffed. “Any other inane questions?”

“You’re the one who started this conversation,” Talia felt compelled to point out.

“And this is me ending it,” he said tersely.

“Is your curiosity about me sated then?” she asked wryly.

“Let me be absolutely clear, then.” He stood up and towered over her. Talia craned her neck up to look at him and merely raised an eyebrow at the threatening stance.

“I don’t know you, and I don’t care to know you. What I care about is the safety of the wardens, and by extension, the safety of my Warden-Commander. If I think you’re a threat to her, you’ll find that it’s quite easy for people to get lost here in the Deep Roads.”

Nathaniel seemed to think he could intimidate her, and it was so ridiculous, Talia had to shake her head and laugh derisively. “You can posture all you like, but I know you won’t kill me.”

“Oh?”

She stood and met Nathaniel’s heated look head on. “You care too much about Savith Stormcrown.” She gave him an easy smile. “Despite your fears that I might have, what? Ill intentions towards your Warden-Commander? You’d never deprive her of the chance to talk with someone from her world, let alone another of her kind.”

Nathaniel hands twitched, then formed into a fist.

“Let me be absolutely clear, then,” she echoed his words mockingly. “I’m not threat to you, Stormcrown, or the wardens.” She paused, giving him a cold stare. “But I can be.”

She settled back onto her bedroll. Nathaniel took a deep breath and turned away from her, but not before seeing a glimmer of reluctant respect in his expression.

“Oh, and Nathaniel?”

The warden paused, but didn’t look back.

“I’ll overlook this incident just this once, as I assume you’re under a great deal of stress.” Her tone was genial, and as she eyed Nathaniel’s stiff form, she could see his clenched fists. “But…” her voice turned frosty. “Try anything else, and we can see if you can draw your bow faster than I can unsheathe my blade.”

There was a stiff nod, and he left to continue his watch.

Hadrian had been correct in his assessment of Nathaniel, he was loyal to Savith Stormcrown, but would follow her lead. She just needed to get her fellow dunmer on her side.

Talia pursed her lips as she went over their altercation. Normally, being threatened in such a manner would leave her in a foul mood, but she found herself strangely considerate of Nathaniel’s behavior. She hadn’t lied to him, she really did think he was under a great deal of stress. She thought of how pale he looked, and how he seemed to be nursing a headache. Though, Talia quirked a small smile, dealing with Bhelen on the daily for weeks would give her a headache as well.

If she were honest, she liked him; he was a good shot, and he had a good head on his shoulders. Not to mention, making a split-second decision to lie to the King even though he didn’t know who they were, but immediately recognizing they could potentially help him with his problem…

He was intelligent, and dependable; he would make a formidable ally.

Hoping Nathaniel wouldn’t shank her in her sleep, she settled in her bedroll until her shift.

The next morning—was it morning? She had no way of knowing—when they were setting out to continue their journey, Nathaniel pretended as if their heated discussion had never happened, and Talia was more than happy to follow his lead.

They ate a small feast before starting their day, and when Talia said ‘small feast’, she meant it. Nathaniel had packed a ridiculous amount of food which she had believed would last them weeks. With the way the warden was inhaling his meal however, she doubted it would last five days. He looked a bit better though, after getting food in him.

Nathaniel noticed her staring and said defensively, “It’s a side-effect of being a warden. We’re stronger than regular men, but we have to eat a lot to compensate for it.”

Talia glanced at Blackwall, who didn’t seem to be having that problem. As Nathaniel followed her gaze, his eyes narrowed.

Before it could devolve into another argument, Talia changed the topic. “You mentioned that you knew where Stormcrown is?”

“I know where she will likely be,” he corrected. He fished a map from his side with his free hand, and he passed it over to Talia, who spread it onto the ground beside her. “We’re here.” He pointed at the large corridor near the entrance to Orzammar. He trailed his finger to a complex looking room west of the map. “This is the Amgarrak Thaig, or what’s left of it, at least. It was a research laboratory, there were some experiments with lyrium and fade manipulation. Savith had mentioned it to me, said she was looking into some of the texts buried there in the rubble.” He moved his finger to a large figure on the map, which contained numerous rooms and interconnected roads. “We have to pass through the Aeducan Thaig to get there.”

“Aeducan, huh? Like Bhelen?”

Nathaniel grunted. “I’d rather never be reminded of that little snake. But yes, like Bhelen. The Thaig has been lost to the darkspawn for years. It’ll take us some time to get through all those darkspawn, but it’s the only way to Amgarrak.”

Talia nodded slowly. “Where do all the darkspawn come from? I mean, you and other wardens must pass through these areas regularly. I assume you kill all the darkspawn you come across.”

“Well, why don’t you tell her, Warden Blackwall?” Nathaniel took a bite out of his bread as he spoke. He sounded faintly mocking, though Talia couldn’t make out why.

“I would prefer you tell the tale, Warden-Regent.” Talia had never heard Blackwall sound so terse.

“Well then, of course, if you prefer.” Nathaniel rolled his eyes. “Darkspawn have unique breeding habits. They cannot procreate among themselves. So…” He hesitated for a moment, continuing only when Talia quirked a brow at him. “So they take women. Human, elf, dwarf, qunari, doesn’t matter. They take her and feed her tainted flesh, and they…force themselves on her. After a few repetitions, she becomes a broodmother.”

Talia wasn’t sure what expression was on her face, but she was absolutely horrified at what Nathaniel was describing. “I’m almost afraid to ask but…broodmother?”

Nathaniel’s expression twisted into disgust. “They are…difficult to describe. You won’t recognize the person they once were when the transformation is complete. They are…grotesque.”

The man left it at that, and Talia took a deep breath. “All right, let’s hope we certainly do not come across any broodmothers then.”

“They’re sessile, so unless one is blocking the only path we have to take, we can always avoid it. It’s best not to bring non-Wardens to a fight with broodmothers.” She knew he was referring to her, but strangely, he was glaring at Blackwall as he said it. Was he upset that Blackwall had brought her to the Deep Roads without sufficient reinforcements?

Whatever it was that caused Nathaniel to turn his ire towards Blackwall, Talia figured she would pry it out of one of them eventually. For now, she simply nodded, and stood from her seat, brushing off the dust from her breeches. “We should probably head off.”

“Agreed,” Blackwall echoed.

Nathaniel took point as they continued their trek through the Deep Roads. They moved forward at a steady pace, for once unhindered. There seemed to be a lack of darkspawn as they grew nearer to the Thaig. They’d only run into two ghouls, and what seemed to be a Tainted rabbit before they reached a fork in the road. There was a sign erected in the middle, and Nathaniel stopped, seemingly surprised.

“What is it?” Talia asked as the warden inspected the sign curiously. It was a stone slab shaped into an arrow, pointing to the path on the right saying, ‘Aeducan Thaig’. Below the sign was another smaller slab with a message engraved onto it.

“This is new,” he muttered, and knelt down to have a better look. “Welcome travelers. If you are weary and have need for shelter, follow this road to the Aeducan Thaig. The True King accepts all into his halls.”

“The ‘True King’, huh?” Talia asked thoughtfully. “Any thoughts on who this is?”

Nathaniel shook his head. “There was nothing like this when I last ventured here.”

“And when was that?”

“Three years ago.” He stood back up. “But we’ve had other wardens pass this way more recently, and none have mentioned anything like this.”

“Well, it seems we’ll be welcome in the Aeducan Thaig, at least,” Blackwall spoke up from behind them.

“Or, it could be a trap,” Talia countered. “A gang, or something that’s luring in exiled dwarves.”

“How pessimistic of you,” Nathaniel said drily.

“Well, we won’t know for certain until we get there.”

The trio took the road on the right and continued on with a touch more caution. Talia kept casting detect-life spells every so often to check for hidden rogues in the shadows. Nathaniel carried his bow in his hand, an arrow notched so he could easily dispatch enemies. Blackwall was slightly more at ease, his sword was still sheathed, but his hand never left the pommel.

As they ducked through a fallen column, they finally reached the entrance to the Aeducan Thaig.

“There’s a gate,” Nathaniel said, mild surprise coloring his tone.

There was indeed, a rather rudimentary gate slated upon the entrance to the Thaig. Talia could see that it was likely formed from different metals, whatever they could have scrounged up in the Deep Roads.

“Well, Nathaniel, I’m not sure if you know, but that’s usually the thing they put to block entrances,” Talia replied wryly.

He gave her an annoyed look, but he continued moving. There was a trio of dwarves stationed at the gate, and the two that carried halberds brandished it threateningly towards their direction.

Talia gave Blackwall her best, ‘I told you so,’ look before raising her palms in a placating manner. “We come in peace.”

“No one that’s come from Orzammar has ‘come in peace’ in the last few weeks,” a greying dwarf replied tightening his grip on his weapon.

“We’re not from Orzammar,” Nathaniel said flatly. “We’re Grey Wardens in search of our Warden-Commander. We want nothing more than to pass through this Thaig so we can continue looking for her.”

“Warden-Commander Savith? She—,” a dark-haired dwarf spoke up before the old one elbowed him in the ribs and shushed him. He looked young, barely out of his adolescence.

“She what?” Nathaniel said sharply.

“Our orders are clear. We are not allowed to grant entrance to anyone. He said anyone, no exceptions.” A red-headed dwarf said firmly.

“I thought your signage said the ‘True King’ accepted everyone in his halls?” Blackwall said suspiciously.

“Well that was before Bhelen,” there was a sneer in the dwarf’s voice as he spoke. “double-crossed us.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose in interest. How could Bhelen have betrayed these dwarves? Weren’t they exiled from the Kingdom?

“Well, we’re not dwarves, and we’re not interested in this political stand-off.” Nathaniel said antagonistically. “Now, will you grant us entrance, or do I have to fight through you?”

Sithis, Talia groaned. Did no one practice diplomacy in this world?

“I apologize for my companions.” Talia stepped forward. “It’s been a rather long day, and we’re tired from the journey.” Taking a gamble, she dropped her hood and cowl, and the dwarves gasped.

“You’re like her!” One of them exclaimed excitably.

“Indeed I am,” she confirmed. “Like Wardens Blackwall and Howe, I am also looking for Warden-Commander Stormcrown. But I need her for something other than warden matters.” She said with an easy smile. “You know how it is with family.”

The dwarves squirmed in their place. “Well, I doubt you’re working for Bhelen, but we can’t let these two in.”

“We can’t let any of them in,” the red-haired dwarf from earlier hissed. “He said ‘no one’.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth to speak, no doubt to antagonize the dwarves further. With a twitch of her finger, Talia sent a concentrated gale of wind through his windpipe, and the man promptly choked.

“My friend here is a bit sick.” She thumped him on the back with unnecessary force as he coughed, garnering a terrifying scowl from the warden. “I think he caught a cold while we were out there.” She affected a look of concern. “It’s why he’s been in such a foul mood.” She leaned closer to Nathaniel, pretending to murmur words of comfort, but hissed instead, “Shut up and let me do the talking.”

There was more uneasy shifting from the guards. “Well, we have our orders…”

“I know, I understand,” Talia feigned sympathy. “It’s just…I really wished to speak with Savith. I haven’t seen her since the Blight. There is so much I need to tell her.” She sighed in a manner that was world-weary.

Nathaniel thankfully started to catch on and placed a bracing hand on her shoulder. “You will get a chance to speak with Savith. It might just…take a few days longer than we first thought.”

“Yes, but how long?” she replied in a frustrated voice. “Father, he—,” Her voice hitched convincingly.

“Lass, is your father all right?” The greying dwarf asked in genuine sympathy. The red head from earlier was looking unsure of himself, and the dark-haired adolescent was looking at her with pity.

Talia swallowed thickly. “Yes, I—,” She gave a shuddering breath. “I apologize, I’m certain you don’t need to hear about our family matters.” Talia gave them a brittle smile, and decided to go in for the kill. “It’s just that Bhelen,” she said his name with distaste, knowing how they felt about him. “He wouldn’t let us into the Deep Roads for days, it was hard enough trying to convince him to let us through and—,” she took a deep breath as if to steady herself. 

“I apologize for bothering you,” she said to the dwarves allowing a hint of vulnerability to seep into her tone. She turned to her companions and said, in her best ‘I am terrified, but feigning bravery’ voice. “Well, I suppose we can…camp out in one of the rooms until we can be given leave to enter the Thaig.”

“But—,” Blackwall said in protest.

“No,” she said sharply. “Look, they already said no one can enter. I—I can wait. No, I will wait no matter how long it takes. Father…” she sighed. “Savith will simply need to wait to hear the news.”

From behind her, Talia could hear the dwarves mutter furiously among themselves.

“Let’s go,” she said. As she took a step away from the gate, the greying dwarf spoke up.

“Lass,” he said in a quiet tone, and Talia allowed herself a small smirk before arranging her expression to a more vulnerable one, and turning back.

“Yes…uhhh…sir?” she asked, as if unsure how to address him.

He chuckled. “Just Ruvin is fine, lass. I understand the need to be with family, especially at such a trying time.” He patted her hand sympathetically. “And I am not such a monster that I would keep you from your sister when you’ve clearly come such a long way.”

Ruvin turned to the red-haired dwarf and said, “Open the gate.”

“But…he said no one,” he protested weakly.

“I will bear the consequences,” Ruvin said. The two dwarves turned the crank, and the gate started to rise.

“Ruvin!” Talia frowned. “I don’t want you to face some sort of…backlash from this. I don’t know how it goes on down here, but I certainly don’t wish for you to be executed.”

“Bah.” He waved her away. “Let me deal with it, lass. The King is an old friend of mine, he will understand my judgement.”

At a guess, Talia could say he was likely not referring to Bhelen. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “Now, I can’t let you run around inside, so me and that young’un Aimur over there,” he jerked his head towards the dark-haired dwarf, “will escort you to the other side where you can get to the Roads that lead to where your sister is.”

“Ruvin, I don’t even know how to begin to thank you,” Talia said gratefully, and she was grateful for the dwarf’s kindness.

“Ah, lass,” he said in a fond tone. “It’s enough for me to know that I will be reuniting families today.” He sighed ruefully. “Too many have been torn apart in these uncertain times.” He looked over her shoulder and glowered at the wardens. “Now those two best behave.”

“Oh, I’m certain they’ll be on their best behavior.”

Talia gave him a smile, and turned to her companions, who sported twin looks of disbelief. “Let’s go. Like Ruvin said, we won’t be allowed to stay, but maybe we can spend some time in the Thaig once we’ve retrieved Savith.”

Talia followed Ruvin and Aimur as they stepped into the Thaig, and the two wardens trailed after them. Like the old dwarf said, they didn’t allow them to tarry as they walked briskly.

Like most of the Deep Roads, the Aeducan Thaig held obvious signs of disrepair, but the dwarves living there had seen fit to do repairs or at least make the place livable. The first room they crossed seemed to be a market of sorts. There were various trinkets, armors, and weapons displayed on some stone tables, likely scavenged from around the Deep Roads. Dwarves that puttered around the room paused in what they were doing to stare as they walked past them.

Nathaniel looked around sporting an expression of bemusement as they passed. “This is extraordinary. I hadn’t thought the exiled dwarves could create a livable place in the Deep Roads.”

Talia hummed in agreement, allowing her eyes to flit around as she observed the place.

“Ruvin,” she asked their guide. “If it’s all right to ask, how long have you been stationed in the Deep Roads?”

The old dwarf chuckled. “You can use the term ‘exiled’ lass, it won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I didn’t want to be rude,” she said diplomatically.

“Was exiled around three years ago, for questioning Bhelen.”

Talia frowned. “I didn’t know that was a punishable offense.”

Ruvin snorted. “No, but ‘inciting rebellion’ and ‘attempted assassination’ are. ‘Least that’s what they officially charged me with. I was a member of the Assembly, so I had a little power. But dwarves like Bhelen…” His tone turned dark. “Why, those types don’t like to share.”

“I’m sorry for bringing up such bad memories.”

“Ah lass, everything to do with Bhelen is bad,” he waved a hand. “He’s just a bad nug. Trian wasn’t the brightest torch in the bunch, and he had all the diplomacy of a rampaging bronto, but he at least wasn’t a murderous snake.”

“Trian?” she prompted.

“Aeducan. He was first in line to the throne, but he was killed before he could inherit.” The next room they entered was some sort of garden. Savith could see some rudimentary piping that she assumed carried water, and what looked like magic-induced light stretching over the plots. There was also a large pen of those hairless rabbits she’d seen earlier.

“And Bhelen ended up with the throne?” Talia continued the conversation.

Ruvin shook his head. “Ah, we would none of us be in the mess if King Endrin—Stone preserve him—had just allowed an investigation of the matter.”

“Do you resent Savith for putting Bhelen on the throne?” Nathaniel spoke up abruptly, and even Ruvin seemed startled at his words.

He contemplated this question. “No, if anyone is to be blamed, it was us…the Assembly. We gave that power to an outsider, someone who hadn’t known the intricacies of dwarven politics. Savith Stormcrown had the entire world to think about, I can’t get mad at her for doing what she had thought was best.”

“That’s very…considerate of you.” He sounded dubious.

“Young’un,” Ruvin said flatly. “If you keep this up, I have half a mind to just throw you in the dungeons.”

Talia hadn’t been successful at covering up her laugh with a cough, and even Blackwall had a small smirk on his face. Nathaniel’s expression soured even further as Ruvin gave him a thump on the back.

The rest of their walk was spent in silence; Talia bit back the questions that she wanted to ask Ruvin. She wanted to get more information about what the dwarves mentioned earlier, about Bhelen double-crossing them. However, she didn’t know how to word it in such a way that she didn’t sound like she was fishing for information.

At any rate, it seemed that the dwarf’s chatty mood had dissipated from Nathaniel’s question. The Thaig was huge, and it took them a while to get to the exit. Talia was suitably impressed at what the dwarves had managed to build. They passed through quite a few more rooms: a library, a large dining hall, and a smithy—and numerous winding corridors before they reached the gates.

Ruvin turned to them as he nodded for the dwarves to open the barrier. “This is where I leave you lass. I hope you’re reunited with Savith Stormcrown soon.”

“Thank you, Ruvin. I won’t forget this kindness.”

His eyes crinkled as he smiled at her. “You’re welcome, lass. I—ah—realized I hadn’t gotten your name.”

“My friends call me Talia,” she said warmly.

“Talia then.” He nodded. “Farewell, and may the Stone guide your way.”

Blessedly, Nathaniel waited until they had walked a fair bit before turning to Talia in disbelief. “I can’t believe that worked. You have quite the honeyed tongue.”

“You just lied to that dwarf the entire time,” Blackwall said, sounding mildly horrified.

“Yes?”

“You took advantage of his kindness!” he said accusingly. Talia rolled her eyes. Of course, Blackwall had a moral righteousness that rivalled Cassandra’s.

“Yes?”

“You—you don’t think there’s anything wrong with that?” Blackwall asked in dismay.

“Well what did you want me to do? Nathaniel was getting ready to turn those poor dwarves into pin cushions, and you weren’t doing anything. Are you saying this isn’t a favorable outcome?”

Blackwall made a disgruntled noise. “I’m not saying it’s not, but you just manipulated that dwarf.”

“And you stood by and let it happen, so you’re complicit in the manipulation,” Talia retorted.

There was a pause as the warden stared at her.

“If I hadn’t,” she continued. “We would still be on the other side of the Aeducan Thaig, camping out in one of those empty rooms, or in prison, if Nathaniel started shooting arrows at everyone.”

The bearded warden turned away with a frustrated sigh.

Talia closed her eyes and prayed to Sithis for strength. The nerve of this man for judging her methods, when he stood there idly by, letting it happen, unable to provide any alternatives.

“I couldn’t care less about your moral judgments, Blackwall,” Talia said testily. The man looked like she had just struck him. “If the next thing that comes out of your mouth is another hissy fit about how my actions are ‘immoral’, then I do not want to hear it, is that understood?”

Blackwall gaped at her in shock.

“Is that understood?” she repeated, giving him a measured look. Blackwall gritted his teeth but nodded.

“Well,” she turned back to the road. “I suggest we move on. Nathaniel?” she gestured to the man.

Nathaniel gave her an appraising glance, as if impressed by the dressing down she’d just given the other warden. “Of course,” he replied, leading the way.

There was a strained silence as they passed through the dwarven halls. None of them felt like talking, and Talia was glad for the reprieve. As they stepped into another wide corridor, Talia slowed down and frowned. It looked the same as all the others did, but something about it felt off.

Nathaniel noticed she’d stopped and paused in his steps as well. “What is it?”

“Something’s amiss…”

Talia was facing Nathaniel, so she wasn’t looking in Blackwall’s direction when she heard the sound of wire being tripped. As she whipped around, she saw numerous pots fall from the ceiling and shatter on the ground, and the narrow corridor started filling with dark smoke.

Fuck. She could hear the telltale sounds of running footsteps and Talia cast a detect life spell to see through the darkness. There were glowing figures moving quickly to flank them. Nathaniel cursed and loosed an arrow into the smoke, missing one of them. Talia pressed herself back-to-back with her warden companions, with Blackwall angling his shield to cover her.

As the dust cleared, they found themselves surrounded by dwarven archers. Talia’s eyes darted from one dwarf to the next, assessing the situation. She could cast a mass-paralysis spell and hold it for a few seconds, but Nathaniel and Blackwall needed to make quick work of them. Once the spell dropped, she could impale the remaining few on ice spikes. She’d need to cast barriers on the three of them as well. Blackwall’s armor and shield could take a few arrows, but her and Nathaniel’s might not at such point-blank range.

Before she could make a move, the ring of dwarves parted, and a hooded figure approached them. He was holding a longsword in his hand, though he didn’t point it at any of them.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice sounded interested. “Now how did a group of wardens manage to get passage through the Aeducan Thaig?”

Talia tracked his movement with her eyes. If she killed this dwarf, chaos would descend among their ranks. It was clear to her that this was their leader.

“Ah, but where are my manners?” The dwarf shrugged off his hood and swept into a low bow—which Talia noted, was executed properly. “Duran, at your service.”

“You’re the assassin,” Nathaniel scowled.

“The assassin!” Duran said with a laugh. “Just like Bhelen to get someone gullible to do his dirty work.”

“Is it gullible to believe the word of a King?” Blackwall said.

“It is if it’s Bhelen,” The dwarf shot back. “The assassin,” he muttered with a scoff. “As if I would stoop so low as to assassinate a member of my own House. Just because Bhelen can stomach doing so for power and status doesn’t mean I can.”

Talia frowned. “You’re related?”

“He didn’t even mention that tiny detail eh?” Duran took a swig of his drink. By its smell, Talia wasn’t sure if it was alcohol for drinking or wound cleaning.

Nathaniel shrugged. “I didn’t particularly care about the details. I just needed a way into the Deep Roads.”

“So he sent you here to kill me,” he said. “I’m not even surprised.” There was an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone.

“Well,” Talia raised her eyebrow. “I’m sure we can work this out, Duran.”

“Could we?” The tone of his voice reminded Talia heavily of Bhelen. She could see the familial resemblance in the color of his hair, and the shape of his eyes.

Talia observed Duran for a moment, remembering Leliana’s letter. “You’re the brother? The one he framed?”

The dwarf looked taken aback for a moment, before recovering and giving Talia a sharp grin. “Now where did you get that juicy piece of information? I was under the impression Bhelen had silenced everyone who knew about that.”

Talia crossed her arms and smirked back at him. “I have my sources.”

“Oh, I like you, elf,” he chuckled lowly. “It’s a shame you had to ally with my brother.”

“You’re in luck then, because we haven’t,” Nathaniel said flatly. “We didn’t agree to come here and kill you; we’re just here to bring back the Warden Commander.”

“Forgive me if I seem reluctant to believe that Bhelen would let anyone back into the Deep Roads who isn’t deep in his pockets.”

“The Wardens are neutral,” Nathaniel emphasized. “As I have been telling Bhelen over and over again.”

“A member of our party was detained by Bhelen as insurance,” Blackwall said, and Duran turned to look at him. “But what Warden Howe is saying is true, we haven’t agreed to kill the ‘assassin’. Though he did try pressuring us into doing so.”

Duran looked contemplative for a moment before looking over at Talia. “And what of you, elf? Where do you fit into this? You don’t look like a warden.”

Talia shrugged, sticking to the story she gave Ruvin. “I’m just here to look for Savith. I have urgent news to bring her of our family.”

Duran examined her from head to toe. “Sister, I assume?”

“You assume correctly,” she lied.

“Now, why do I feel like you’re not telling me the entire truth?” Duran paced in front of her. “Certainly not because I’ve heard of rumors…rumors of an Inquisition?”

Talia gave him an amused glance. “And what have you heard from these rumors then, my dear Duran?”

“Well,” he said in a lightly mocking tone. “If I were the type to listen to rumors, I’d tell you I’ve heard there was a grey-skinned elf being called the Herald of Andraste by the surface dwellers.”

“Well,” Talia matched his tone. “I didn’t take you for someone who listened to rumors, Duran.”

The dwarf chortled. “It was quite fantastical. The sky opening up, demons falling from the sky, walking in the Fade.”

“That is quite a story, I agree.”

“This rumored Inquisition would gain much if they manage to get the King of Orzammar,” he said the title derisively, “on their side.”

Talia observed Duran, and thought perhaps a bit of honesty could go a long way. “The truth is, Bhelen doesn’t even know I’m here. I snuck in here with their help.” She jerked her thumb towards the two wardens.

“Interesting…tell me more.”

Talia inclined her head. “I caught wind that Savith was here in the Deep Roads; I’d been searching for her for a while. I thought of approaching Orzammar as an agent of the Inquisition, but I heard rumors about Bhelen, and I thought it best if I avoided meeting him.” Talia said truthfully. “These Wardens here graciously assisted me. They told Bhelen they needed to find their Warden-Commander to gain entrance to the Deep Roads. I believe if he knew I was here, he would have probably detained me, instead of our other companion, Hadrian.”

Duran was silent for a moment, assessing her. “Your words ring true. Bhelen would never have given up the chance to have you on his side…willingly or unwillingly.” He took a step back. “Well, if you aren’t here to kill me, then it seems we don’t have any quarrel.” He signaled for his men to stand down, and the bows pointed at them immediately dropped. “Although,” His expression turned sly. “Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

“Oh?” Talia asked in feigned innocence. “And what agreement might that be?”

Duran took a long drink from his flask before answering. “Come to the Aeducan Thaig once you’ve found Warden Stormcrown. Think you might be able to catch her; she went off in that direction about an hour ago, in pursuit of darkspawn. We’ll discuss our potential agreement once you return.”

“I suppose I can pass by the Thaig once I’ve found my sister,” Talia said agreeably.

Duran smirked again before giving a flourishing bow, stepping away and granting them access to the road. “We shall see each other soon, Herald of Andraste.”

Talia knew he used her title in an attempt to unsettle her, however, it did nothing but make her smirk. “Indeed we shall, King Duran.”

The True King’s eyes gleamed with interest as they passed him, moving further into the Deep Roads.

As they slipped into a side path, finally shielding them from Duran’s unsettling gaze, Nathaniel rounded on Blackwall.

“Your incompetence almost got us killed,” he growled. The warden had stepped into Blackwall’s personal space, pressing an accusatory finger at the other man’s chest.

Blackwall gritted his teeth, but didn’t defend himself. “I was…distracted. I apologize.”

“Apologies won’t help us out of situations like those,” he hissed. “We’re lucky he was so interested in Talia, or your little distraction could have cost us our lives.”

Talia eyed them for a moment, wondering if they were going to come to blows. But Nathaniel stepped back and gave an enormous, world-weary sigh. He leaned back on the walls of the hall, bringing a hand to his eyes and pressing down.

“So now we have two Kings looking to use the wardens.”

“To be fair, I think Duran’s more interested in the Inquisition,” Talia pointed out.

“What do you think he wants with you?” Blackwall asked in worry.

“There’s only one thing I can think of that Duran wants,” she said slowly.

Nathaniel dropped his hand from his face and gave her an expectant look.

“Bhelen’s death.”

“What—that’s absurd! He has to know you’d never agree to such a thing,” Blackwall exclaimed.

She looked away contemplatively.

Not necessarily. If whatever deal she could strike with Duran would benefit her and the Inquisition, she’d be more than willing to take on a contract to assassinate Bhelen. He was well-guarded, but they would never expect her or her magic. But could Duran even really seize power in Orzammar with its king dead? And the fallout that would follow after his death…

When Talia didn’t respond, Nathaniel pushed away from the wall and drew closer to her. “Talia?” he frowned.

She didn’t voice her thoughts. “I don’t know. There’s a chance Duran won’t give me a choice.”

“The bigger problem,” Nathaniel said. “Is that if you decide to go through with whatever it is, the Wardens may end up being blamed for it.”

It’s true, Talia hadn’t even thought of it. Bhelen and the rest of Orzammar had no idea that an agent of the Inquisition had passed through their kingdom—only Grey Wardens. And Hadrian being a prisoner in the Dwarven King’s halls would only cement that belief.

“Whatever it is, I won’t let the Wardens take the fall for it,” she said firmly. There was no point in alienating them in such a way. Talia didn’t think it would be a good idea for the Inquisition to be connected to the assassination of a monarch, but she couldn’t allow it to happen to the Grey Wardens.

There was a glimmer of relief in Nathaniel’s eyes as she said it, but he didn’t say anything else.

Blackwall opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted as a loud shout echoed throughout the hall.

Talia couldn’t make out the words, but they were accompanied with what sounded like thunder rumbling from the heavens—except they were underground. The force of the shout made the walls and the ground below them shake. Talia felt the words rattle her very bones, and it left her gasping.

A stunned silence passed among them, before Blackwall managed to rasp out, “What the fuck was that?”

To Talia’s surprise, Nathaniel let out a breathless laugh. The smile lit up his face, making him look like an entirely different person.

“That…is Savith Stormcrown.”

Chapter Text

It was all Talia and Blackwall could do to keep up with Nathaniel as he rushed through the dwarven halls, eager to shorten the distance between him and Savith Stormcrown. He was all but running through the dark caverns, slowing only when they came across darkspawn. It seemed to Talia that they started to encounter more and more of the creatures as they continued on the road to Amgarrak.

Another shout echoed through the hall, and Talia briefly shuddered. The sound continued to ring in her ears long after the words were gone.

“That sounded nearer.” Blackwall said, panting as he sheathed his sword.

“I think we’re close.” Nathaniel agreed. He bent down and dislodged his arrow from a fallen genlock. Pausing, he frowned at the path in front of them.

“What is it?” Talia asked when he didn’t move.

“I’m sensing more darkspawn ahead,” then his scowl deepened. “And…something else.”

“Something…else?”

“I’m not sure,” he said, uncertainty lacing his tone. “I hope it’s not what I think it is.”

That was most definitely not reassuring.

They battled through two more darkspawn groups before Nathaniel—for lack of better word—perked up.

“I can sense Savith!” he said, then paused, his eyes widening. “By the Maker!” he exclaimed before rushing forward and rounding the corner.

Talia watched him go with some bemusement, and quickened her steps. “You can sense other wardens?” she asked Blackwall.

“…Yes.” Came the warden’s reluctant response. Talia gave him an exasperated look.

The two rounded the corner, and it opened up into an expansive room. Both Talia and Blackwall stopped in their tracks as they stared at the most horrifying thing Talia had ever seen in her life.

In the middle of the room sat a towering creature. It was like a pale, overly large maggot that grew eight breasts and was sat atop a mass of wriggling, rotting flesh. There were massive tentacles swinging around, connected to its large form. Around it, there were massive polyps that every so often burst open, revealing a fully formed genlock.

Nimbly avoiding the creature’s attacks were two glowing figures, one seemed to be a specter, judging by its translucence, while the other was wreathed in ethereal armor—likely Stormcrown. Nathaniel was skirting around them, keeping away from the tentacles, and shooting arrows at the creature.

“Oh Sithis,” Talia hissed as she secured her hood and cowl, ensuring most of her flesh was covered. She and Blackwall then joined the fray, slashing at the genlocks birthed by the broodmother, as well as the other darkspawn drawn into the battle by the presence of the wardens.

“I thought you said we’d be avoiding the broodmothers, Nathaniel!” she called out to the warden as she buried her blades into a genlock’s skull.

“To be fair,” Nathaniel ducked to avoid a tentacle, and quickly fired back an arrow at the broodmother. “I also said we’d only be doing that if it wasn’t blocking the way!”

Two tentacles emerged from the ground, and tried to flatten Stormcrown and her conjured spirit. The dunmer rolled to the side, and as she recovered, Shouted at the flailing limbs.

“IIZ SLEN NUS!”

Talia was facing her direction, so she finally saw Stormcrown’s Dragon Shout in action. The glow of a spell started on her lips as she said the words, and it blasted towards the tentacles, encasing them in ice. Talia wasn’t able to stop and stare, as she and Blackwall fended off the genlocks around them, but she briefly admired the way Stormcrown wielded her longsword and axe expertly, twirling around and delivering a whirlwind of slashes to the frozen appendage.

There was a loud thud, and a cry of surprise, and when Talia turned to the source, she found a darkspawn mage—emissary, she corrected herself—pointing its staff at Nathaniel. It looked as if the man had been caught in some sort of force magic, and was blasted across the room. The darkspawn prepared a lightning spell in its hands, and Talia realized they were all too far away to help the warden; Stormcrown was busy with the broodmother, and Blackwall was near her, stabbing and slashing away at genlocks surrounding him and Talia.

When the only options left to her were to allow Nathaniel to be electrocuted by the darkspawn emissary, or to reveal her abilities, Talia decided to go with the latter. With a sharp gesture, she conjured a ward in front of the warden, and with another, sent ice spikes rushing towards the creature. Nathaniel blinked in surprise when the lightning spell was absorbed into the ward. A sharp column of ice skewered the darkspawn, lifting it from the ground and killing it instantly.

Talia snapped her hand to the side, and a whip of fire coiled itself on a genlock’s neck, severing its head. She conjured a wall of ice spikes surrounding Blackwall, giving him some modicum of protection as she left his side. Blackwall startled at the sudden presence of the ice, but managed to recover and push some of the darkspawn into the spikes, killing them.

Nathaniel gaped at her she made her way to his side, throwing an almost lazy fireball over her shoulder to keep the creatures away from them.

“Are you all right?” Talia asked, frowning at his disheveled state. She placed a glyph on the ground, creating a guardian circle that bathed them both in a soft golden glow.

“You’re a fucking mage?” Nathaniel asked in disbelief, struggling to his feet as the restoration spell did its job.

“Yes,” Talia said in clipped tones. She looked over her shoulder and saw that a new wave of darkspawn was released from the polyps around the broodmother. “Though soon I’ll be a dead fucking mage if you and Stormcrown don’t get rid of that broodmother.”

“We will talk about this later,” Nathaniel gave her a look before he rushed back into the fray. Talia enveloped him in an Ebonyflesh spell, granting him better protection against the ghoul’s thrashing tentacles. She cast a mass paralysis field onto the genlocks approaching, and all of them froze in their steps, except one.

Talia narrowed her eyes as the genlock raised its staff and snarled at her. It was only thanks to her quick reflexes that she was able to bring up a ward as the genlock shot spear after spear of ice in her direction. She could feel the strain on the ward, and when the barrage continued, it shattered, forcing her to roll across the floor and take cover behind a large stone structure.

“What is that thing?” Talia shouted as another onslaught of spells hit where she was hiding. It seemed the creature didn’t run out of magicka—mana—whatever it was they used for spellcasting.  

“Shit, that’s an Emissary Alpha!” she heard Stomrcrown call out from across the room.

There was a pause in the darkspawn’s casting and when Talia looked, it had turned its attention to the specter, which had slashed its dagger across the creature’s back. Talia took the opportunity to vault out of her hiding spot and cast a flame rune beneath the creature. With a complex series of hand gestures, she activated it, sending a whirlwind of flame that seared the darkspawn over and over again on the spot. When the spell ended, the darkspawn was still alive—barely. It struggled to its feet and attempted to raise its charred staff. Talia summoned whips of fire in in both her hands and snapped them towards the creature repeatedly until it was nothing but a pile of ash on the floor.

“Damn, Talia!” she heard Nathaniel comment and she turned to grin at him—not that he could see from behind her cowl. He was perched upon a large stone structure and was taking shots at the broodmother’s head. He leapt off it as a tentacle lashed out and destroyed the structure. She shot a cushioning spell at him and she could see the confusion on his face when he landed with a slight bounce.

There was a whisper of a sound behind her and Talia readied her daggers. She whirled on the spot—and abruptly froze. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what she was seeing. The incorporeal figure before her stopped in its tracks as well, a slight widening of its eyes betraying its shock.

Leliana had told her about the assassin that Stormcrown could summon from the Void, but she’d forgotten…In all that had happened to her the past months, she’d forgotten.

There was a heavy buzzing in Talia’s ears, and she saw nothing except the glowing blue form of the specter in front of her.

A beat passed before it spoke, in the same low voice she knew and loved,

“Silencer…”

Talia gasped, feeling as if all the air had been removed from her lungs. How long had she wished to see him again? Speak to him? Prostrate herself before him and beg him for forgiveness?

“Speaker…” she whispered in disbelief.

They stared at each other for a moment, before the specter shifted his eyes from her and looked at something over her shoulder. In one swift move, he grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him, while simultaneously lunging forward, embedding a knife into a genlock rushing towards her. She blinked at the corpse. In her shock, she hadn’t even noticed it.

The specter staggered, and Talia only then realized that the genlock had succeeded in burying its blade into its stomach. She cradled him—he felt oddly weightless, and she gently laid him on the ground, crouching over him.  

Her throat was still constricted as she took a shuddering breath, her eyes roaming across the face of her Speaker.

The spirit raised a hand to her face. He brushed aside a part of her hood and traced the scar on her left eye.

“You still kept the scar,” he murmured.

Talia nodded, still unable to speak. She enveloped his hand with hers and leaned into his touch.

“I will be back.” He assured her, pulling at her hand and brushing his lips across her knuckle. “We have much to speak of, my dear Silencer.”

And with those parting words, he dissipated—back to the Void.

Talia was frozen in her position; she couldn’t move her legs. Her mind was still in a daze, and as such, barely heard Blackwall as he called out a warning.

“Herald! Look out!”

In the next moment, she found herself flying through the air as a writhing tentacle lashed out and hit her square in the chest. She hit the wall hard, and she groaned as she slid down. The attack at least managed to jar her out of her stupor.

Blackwall helped her up, and she shook her head to clear it. As she looked up, she realized the battle was starting to wind down. There were no more darkspawn around them, and the broodmother seemed to be on her last tentacle, literally. Most of her limbs had been severed, and the one still flailing was caught between Nathaniel’s daggers; the man had forgone his bow as he ran out of arrows. He buried his blades in the tentacle, and dragged them outwards. He managed to slice it off, spraying him with blood. Stormcrown Shouted at the broodmother, and it gave a roar as cracks of glowing purple appeared throughout its body.

“Should we go help them?” Blackwall asked.

Talia observed the broodmother, which looked like it would keel over anytime soon due to the frequency of Stormcrown’s attacks. “They look like they have it well in hand.”

Nathaniel leapt from a stone and buried both of his blades in the broodmother’s head. He hung on for a moment before he dropped down, and rolled into a defensive stance. The ghoul gave a mighty shudder, and suddenly went limp. There was the sound of sizzling flesh at it started to melt.

“That’s impressive.” Blackwall commented grudgingly, and Talia nodded in agreement. She was still somewhat out of sorts due to the unexpected reappearance of Lucien—

Don’t, she told herself viciously. She couldn’t allow herself to think about it right now. There were more important things she had to take care of.

The two figures took a moment to catch their breaths, and when they turned to look at each other they let out a laugh.

“Nathaniel Howe!” Stormcrown caught the warden in a fierce embrace, laughing as they swayed. The dunmer was the first to pull away, still beaming at him. There was an unrestrained smile on Nathaniel’s face. Talia watched them in interest; the usually dour man seemed like an entirely different person around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you, what else? Speaking of,” then he drew his hand back and punched her on the arm. “What in the name of the Maker’s hairy ass were you thinking?! Taking on a broodmother on your own?”

Talia’s lips twitched at his expletive.

Stormcrown was pouting as she massaged the spot Nathaniel hit. “It seemed like a good idea at that time. Why were you looking for me? Is there a problem in Amaranthine?”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said, and his vague response made Stormcrown raise an eyebrow. He jerked his head towards her and Blackwall. Talia gave a nod when the other dunmer looked over Nathaniel’s shoulder towards them.

“You brought friends! Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Stormcrown grabbed Nathaniel and dragged him over to them.

Talia turned to Blackwall as the two approached. “Are you all right?” she asked. The bearded man looked incredibly pale.

“I—just nervous I suppose.”

“Nervous?”

“Don’t mind me,” he murmured.

“Hello, Nathaniel’s friends!” Stormcrown said cheerily.

Nathaniel’s muttered “They’re not my friends” was drowned by Stormcrown’s gasp as Talia turned to face her.

“I—you’re—,” she gaped. “You’re a dunmer! How did you get here?” She grabbed both of Talia’s shoulders, and in Talia’s bemusement, she let her. “Were you sent to look for me? How long has it been?”

“Savith,” Nathaniel, the bastard that he was, sounded like he was laughing. “Slow down.”

Stormcrown visibly tried to restrain herself. “I—I’m sorry. It’s just been so long. I didn’t think I’d ever see someone from Nirn ever again.” She sighed and let go of Talia, thrusting one hand forward for a shake. “I’m Savith Idren.”

The ethereal armor that enveloped the dunmer earlier during the fight had dissipated, and Talia was able to see her more clearly. Now that she observed the other woman, Talia couldn’t understand how people kept on mistaking her for the warden. They were both dark elves, and had black hair, but that was where the similarities ended.  Stormcrown was slightly taller than her, and was a tad more muscular, likely due to her fighting style. Her skin was of a greyer tone, and her red eyes were larger than her own narrow ones. Stormcrown’s features were softer than the usual dunmer’s; she was less…angular and planar, more rounded, giving her a more innocent look.

“Talia Indoril—,” her name had barely passed her lips, when Stormcrown snorted.

“Come now, I gave you my real name. The least you can do is grant me the same courtesy.”

Talia stared at her in confusion. “It is my real name.”

It was Stormcrown’s turn to look at her in bewilderment. “Why are you speaking in King’s Tongue?”

“I—it’s my pendant. It has a speech enchantment on it. But I digress, what makes you think it’s not my real name?” she asked curiously.

“You think it’s not her real name?” Nathaniel narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “Switch to King’s Tongue, so everyone can follow this conversation, Savith.”

“Ah…sorry,” she said to Nathaniel. Turning back to her, Stormcrown gave her a look. “Really? You’re asking me why I’m skeptical of you taking on the name of a historical figure? And can you take off the hood? I’d like to meet you face to face.”

Talia had to give a laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I have to say, out of everything, this might be strangest thing that’s ever happened to me.” As she spoke, she pulled down her hood, and removed the cowl. She shook her hair free and watched in surprise as Stormcrown’s jaw fell.

“Oh, shit! You’re really her!”

“You recognize me?” Talia asked in mild astonishment.

“My parents have a portrait of you above our fireplace.” Stormcrown sounded a little dazed.

“What.” Talia said flatly.

“What!” Nathaniel exclaimed.

“What?” Blackwall looked confused.

In the sparse light of the room, Talia could see a blush creep up Stormcrown’s face. “I’m a fan—I—I mean, my father’s a fan!” she stammered, and Talia didn’t bother hiding her amusement. “My father—he was commissioned to paint your official portrait. The one with the gold armor.”

“Wait, you’re famous?” Nathaniel asked incredulously.

“Why don’t you ask my fan?” Talia said lightly, and Stormcrown grew even more flustered.

The few weeks after the end of the Oblivion Crisis had been a blur to her; she’d been numb to everything. She did, however, remember being asked to pose for her portrait. As the seventh Champion of Cyrodiil, she needed an official painting hung on the hall of Champions in the White-Gold Tower.

“Daral, right?” Talia recalled the young dunmer. She remembered apologizing for her “sad eyes” as he’d called them, and asked him to change her expression to something more neutral.

“Wow,” Stormcrown smiled. “I can’t believe you remember his name. My father would be over the moon once I tell him.” Then, her smiled dimmed. “If we get back, I suppose.”

“We’ll work on it,” Talia extended her hand once more. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Talia Indoril, the Champion of Cyrodiil, I suppose. But call me Talia.” she said with wry humor.

Stormcrown shook her hand enthusiastically. “Savith Idren, sometimes known as Savith Stormcrown…er—just call me Savith.” she shrugged.

“What?” Blackwall repeated, his confusion still evident. Stormcrown—Savith turned to the man and gave him another smile.

“And who’s this one, Nate?”

“Oh indeed, Nate, please introduce our companion.” Talia gave him a smirk.

Nathaniel coughed to hide his discomfort. “This is Warden Blackwall.”

A beat passed before Savith spoke. “Warden Blackwall?” she gave the bearded man a once-over before turning a questioning gaze on Nathaniel.

“Yes.” Nathaniel nodded firmly.

Talia narrowed her eyes at the scene before her. Blackwall was nervously shifting on his feet, and Nathaniel seemed like he was trying to convey an unspoken message to Savith. The Dragonborn, for her part, was looking at Nathaniel in bemusement.

“Well,” Savith said briskly. “Nice to meet you Blackwall.” She shook his hand, before turning back to Talia. “Maybe we can set up camp and continue this conversation. Somewhere that’s not filled with rotting ghoul and darkspawn corpses.” she wrinkled her nose in revulsion.

They backtracked to the previous hall, and set up camp in an area bounded by the sturdiest walls they could find. Since she’d already shown her magic, Talia volunteered to set up various wards and proximity mines around their camp. Nathaniel approached her as she was casting them at the edge of camp, and gave her fire mine a critical look.

“Will this go off if I come anywhere near it?”

Talia smirked. “No, I’ve tweaked these to set off against anyone I don’t consider allies. So maybe don’t piss me off, or I’ll take you off that list.”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “So…you’re a mage huh?”

“I am?” Talia chuckled as he glared at her.

“Why hide it?”

“Why would I tell anyone? With how people here act around magic, you’d think mages have the Taint or something.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. “I’ve never treated mages any differently.”

“And how was I to know? You might have forgotten, but you already threatened me scarcely a day ago.” She said lightly.

To her surprise, Nathaniel sighed and faced her, his expression somewhere between annoyed and apologetic. “Look, Talia,” he began uncertainly. “I may have been…unfair in my statements.”

“Oh, were you, Nate?”

He scowled at the use of Savith’s nickname for him. Talia gave him an amused look.

“Look, I understand. We don’t know one another, of course it will be hard to trust each other,” she acknowledged. “But I trust you enough to let you fight by my side, which is a rarity for me. And I think you trust me that much as well. As for Savith…” she nodded towards the camp’s direction. “I have no doubt she can Shout me into a wall if she finds me to be a threat to the wardens.”

Nathaniel gave another sigh. “I know. There’s…there’s been a lot happening. Things have been shifting with the wardens, and the Inquisition is just another unknown entity being added into the mix. So there,” he said. “I apologize.” he finally ground out.

Though she longed to gloat, Talia figured it wouldn’t help her relationship with the warden, so she merely nodded. “Accepted…Nate.”

He gave her an exasperated look, and she smirked unrepentantly.

When they returned to camp, they found Savith kneeling down by the bundle of firewood in the middle of camp. With a whispered “Yol!”, she set fire to it. Blackwall was staring at her unabashedly, pausing in the act of setting up his bedroll. From the man’s expression, Talia could tell she’d be fielding hundreds of questions from him once he had the chance to ask them. As she and Nathaniel approached, Savith turned to them and gave them a wide smile. “Talia and I will take first watch. You boys can go ahead and rest.”

Nathaniel gave them a sour look that Talia thought bordered on a pout, turning to head to his bedroll. Blackwall hesitated for a moment before giving them a very gallant nod, and then set his bedroll some distance from them.

Talia took a seat by the fire beside Savith, and after a brief moment of indecision, cast a muffling charm, and took off her pendant. At Savith’s raised eyebrow, she said, “Enchanted with a translation spell. Had to use a makeshift enchanting slate, and my only remaining soul gem. Makes things easier for me though.”

The two stared at each other in silence.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” Talia admitted after a while. She had many things to tell and to ask Savith, but now that she was in front of her, she found herself at a loss for words.

“Me too. I’m still in shock. I haven’t seen another dunmer in so long…” Savith drew her knees to her chest. “And then for that dunmer to be the Champion of Cyrodiil…” she shook her head.

“I’ve heard you’re quite the hero yourself…” Talia said tentatively.

Savith gave her a sharp look, before smiling to take off the edge. “It was the Shouting that gave me away wasn’t it? I guess you’ve heard of me somewhere. How long has it been? What year is it when you were brought here?”

Talia shook her head. “Time doesn’t seem to run parallel on Nirn and Thedas.”

“What do you mean?”

“I entered Sheogorath’s Oblivion portal on the 15^th of Second Seed, on the second year of the Fourth Era, and was spit out in the Fade.”

Savith’s breath hitched. “Oh. I thought…I honestly don’t know what I thought.” she rubbed her eyes. “I should have known. You couldn’t have come after my time; you don’t look a day over 70.”

“Close…I’m 74,” Talia paused, frowned, and counted back. “75, I suppose I missed my birthday in all the excitement this world has shown me.”

“It was the 207^th year of the Fourth Era when I was transported here, not sure about the month, I think it was Frost Fall.”

So they weren’t that far apart, Talia mused. Two hundred years…not even the length of an entire dunmer lifespan.

She sighed. “I think I should go first. I’ll explain what happened to me so far, and how I found you.” At Savith’s nod, she started telling her story.

She explained that she’d ended up in the Fade, and though Talia didn’t know Savith well, she told her the truth: meeting Lavellan, finding Justinia, accidentally taking the Anchor from the young elf…

Savith had been aware of the Conclave, but she hadn’t heard of Justinia’s death, or what happened at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

“What?” she grew pale at the news. “Dorothea…” she murmured. “Do you know what happened to her Hands? The Left Hand—she—,”

Talia gave her reassuring look. “Leliana is all right. She was one of the first people I spoke to in this world.”

The dunmer closed her eyes in relief briefly, then moved on. “So, you got dropped into the Fade. You found a dalish elf, and when your hands connected, that thing—” Savith eyed Talia’s glowing left hand; she’d removed her gloves to show her the mark. “transferred from her to you?”

“Yes. Apparently, it almost killed me. When I woke up, Leliana and Cassandra interrogated me. They were entirely convinced I was the cause of the explosion. I decided not to tell them about what happened in the Fade, at that time, I was certain they were going to execute me.”

“Smart thinking,” Savith approved. “They probably would’ve accused you of killing Justinia. Who else knows about this?”

There was a brief moment of embarrassed silence. “…I haven’t told anyone else.”

Savith looked surprised but delighted. “You trust me with this information?”

“Well…yes.” Talia replied with some hesitation. It seemed logical to tell Savith the truth about what happened in the Fade.

Savith’s smile grew, but she said nothing more on the topic. “So what happened after that?”

Talia explained the Breach, the power of the Anchor, stopping the mage-templar skirmishes in the Hinterlands…

“So, let me get this straight,” Savith massaged her temple. “An explosion caused a huge tear in the Fade, and also caused smaller rifts to appear throughout Thedas. You, a dunmer who isn’t even native to this land, are stuck with an ancient, probably unknown, magical…thing on your hand that can close these Fade rifts? And they expect you to help out after taking you prisoner and threatening you?”

Talia huffed in amusement. “You forgot the part where they proclaimed me as their goddess’ prophet of some sort.”

“Herald of Andraste. Akatosh save us,” Savith muttered. “All right, go on?”

When she told Savith of their visit to Val Royeaux and the templars’ involvement in Justinia’s death, the Dragonborn looked upset.

“The templars are…misguided. But I can’t believe they’d be involved in the Divine’s death. There has to be more to this story.” Savith insisted.

Talia was mildly surprised at her defense of the templars. “You believe so?”

“I’ve met plenty of templars throughout my ten years here. A lot of them are good men. Of course, I’m not talking about all that shit that went down in Kirkwall, but most of them just want to make Thedas a better place. We have to look into this!”

“We?”

“Well,” Savith coughed, blushing. “I mean—the Inquisition should look into it of course.”

Talia gave her a look of amusement. “If you want to help us out, I’d greatly appreciate it.”

“Yeah…maybe. I’ll talk to Nate about it.” she mumbled. “So after Val Royeaux?”

“We went to get the rebel mages,” Talia continued. “We believed that if the templars were…compromised, they were the only other option. But there were issues with getting to them too.”

Talia went on to explain about the Venatori, Alexius’ request, sneaking into the castle…

“So that secret entrance by the windmill hasn’t been blocked yet?” Savith asked.

“You’re familiar with it?”

“We used it before; me, Leliana, Alistair, and Morrigan. Back during the Blight,” she said pensively. “There was some crazy magic going on in Redcliffe, and we needed to get into the castle.”

Talia remembered the boy she encountered. “Does this have anything to do with that young mage? Connor, I think his name was? He thought I was you for a moment.”

“You met him?” Savith sounded stunned. “How is he? Is he all right?”

“I believe so. He’s a member of the rebel mages, the ones who hadn’t surrendered to the Venatori. He said you saved his life?”

“I suppose if you count sacrificing his mother to blood magic to rid him of a demon, then yeah, I guess you could say I saved his life.” Savith said rather bitterly.

“I’m sure it was the best option at the time,” Talia said neutrally.

“Maybe…I don’t know. I thought it was.” Savith shook her head. “So what happens after you get into Redcliffe Castle?”

“Here’s where everything becomes…crazy,” she said hesitantly.

Savith gave a small laugh. “Crazier than two dunmer falling into an entirely new world?”

“Close, but not quite.” Talia agreed. “When I went to save Alexius’ son, I got…sent back in time. Around the time I first stepped out of the Fade.”

“…sorry?”

“You didn’t mishear.”

“…you weren’t kidding when you said it was crazy.”

Talia nodded. “Right now, my other self is on the way to Val Royeaux.”

“That’s fucked up.” Savith said, but with fascination in her tone. “So when you mentioned you’ve been here for six months, were you counting the timetravel?”

“Yes. Felix and I have been trying to avoid our other selves.” Talia grimaced as she remembered their ill-fated encounter with herself in the Hinterlands. “We’ve been going to areas my other self hasn’t been to. Incidentally, it’s also partly why I’m here now.”

“Partly?”

“Well, the Inquisition needs materials for reconstruction of our keep. We thought Orzammar would be a good place to get it. But I was also looking for you. I got a lead from someone surprising.”

“Who? Did Alistair blab?” she looked suspicious, and Talia gave a small chuckle. It seemed Leliana was right, the King of Ferelden had known where Savith was the entire time.

“You don’t have to worry about the King’s loyalties,” Talia reassured her. “It was Nocturnal; she entered my dreams, and told me to find you in the Deep Roads.”

Savith was gaping unabashedly now. “Nocturnal? But…how? She’s never shown herself to me.” she sounded upset and envious to Talia.

“I think it has something to do with the Breach…Nocturnal also mentioned she couldn’t reach your mind. And implied it was due to the Taint?”

“Of course. The fucking Taint.” Savith said viciously.

Talia gave her a sympathetic look. “Apparently, my new quest from Nocturnal is to find a way to rid you of Taint.”

A snort. “Well, good luck with that.” she replied moodily. “No one’s ever found a cure for the Taint…ever. The only known case is Grand Enchanter Fiona. And no one knows how she was cleared of the Taint. Not even she does.”

“Fiona was a Grey Warden?” Talia asked in surprise.

“Not many remember, but yeah, she was.” Savith frowned. “So Nocturnal sent you to me? That means you’re also her champion…are you a Nightingale as well?”

Talia shook her head. “No, though she has offered it to me.”

“So time travelling, and also talking to daedra from across worlds.” Savith gave her a wry smile. “I wonder what’s next?”

“Well, there’s more.”

“More?” There was incredulity in the Dragonborn’s tone.

“When we were dropped into the past, Felix—my companion, and I were picked up by this old woman in the woods. Her name was—,”

“Flemeth?” Savith asked in alarm. At Talia’s nod, she let out a stream of expletives.

“What’s wrong?”

“That old biddy! We killed her a long time ago. She was planning on taking over Morrigan’s body eventually. She’s supposed to be dead!”

“Well…she got better.” Talia said drily and Savith let out a surprised snort.

“Don’t make me laugh! This is serious!”

“I know,” Talia agreed. “She appeared to me as a human…but there was something ancient in her. I don’t know what she is, but she’s not a regular mortal.”

Savith groaned in frustration. “What in Oblivion am I going to say to Morrigan when I see her? This is a disaster.”

“Flemeth knows too much. I don’t know how.” Talia admitted. “She handed me the Wabbajack.”

“The Wabbajack? Where did she find it?”

“Knowing Flemeth, do you really think she gave me a straight answer?” she asked sardonically.

“Point.” Savith conceded. “So the Wabbajack, is that a sign from the Mad God?”

“Well…Nocturnal told me it was Sheogorath who brought me here.” Talia recalled. “Her exact words were, ‘Sheogorath was right in sending you here.’”

“Does that mean he’s the one who brought me here too?” Savith grumbled. “Why do the daedra always have to talk in circles? I wish they would just come out and say what happened and what they want from us.”

Talia agreed. “Flemeth was equally confusing.”

“What other vague nonsense did she say?”

Talia frowned. “Something about the foundations of this plane collapsing, and me being ‘instrumental’ in its salvation. She also said something about other forces at work apart from the Elder One—he’s the one who caused the Breach, and killed the Divine.”

“Wow,” Savith said flatly. “Can she be any vaguer? So what ‘forces’ were at work, according to her?”

“She said, ‘chaos and destruction, ‘darkness and madness’, and ‘the sweet temptation of forbidden knowledge’.” Talia recalled.

Savith looked contemplative as she stared at the fire. “You…you don’t think she was referring to the daedra?”

Talia thought about it. It was possible, but what interest would this world be to them?

“Chaos and destruction could be Mehrunes Dagon, darkness and madness could be Sheogorath, and forbidden knowledge could be Hermaeus Mora.”

Though she tried to stop it, she couldn’t contain her shudder at the reminder of the Prince of Destruction. “What would they want with this world?”

“Well, Mora wants any new knowledge,” Savith’s expression turned upset, as if she was remembering something unpleasant. “I’ve no idea what Sheogorath would want. But Dagon…apart from destroying shit, I don’t think he’d want anything from this world.”

“Then why would he be here if ever?”

Savith gave her a look. “Well…you’re here aren’t you?”

Her heart leapt to her throat, and she grew wide-eyed. The implications of Savith’s theory were horrible. That meant Talia wasn’t safe anywhere. She was suddenly reminded of Nocturnal’s words. ‘He has made it his goal to obtain your soul.’ Did she mean Mehrunes Dagon?

“Talia? Are you all right? Please, I’m sorry.”

Talia realized she was breathing too quickly. She blinked and found Savith’s face in front of her. The other dunmer had both her hands on Talia’s shoulders and was shaking her slightly, a look of profound concern on her face.

“I—,” Talia took a deep breath and leaned away from Savith, her face burning with embarrassment. “I apologize. Sometimes I become…lost in…memories.”

There was a brief moment of silence where Talia tried to get ahold of her breathing.

“Me too.” Savith said quietly, and when Talia glanced at her, there was a haunted look in her eyes. “I suspect Leliana told you about who I was on Nirn?”

At Talia’s nod, Savith shifted her gaze to the fire. “I saw many things during the Dragon Crisis that I would rather…forget. But sometimes I hear the flap of wings, or see a streak of black and suddenly I’m back in Sovngarde, the moment Alduin almost crushed me in his jaws.” She clenched her teeth, and rubbed at a spot on her chest.

“All I’m saying is…I understand.” Savith continued. “And I’m really sorry for bringing up those memories unwittingly.”

The two sat in companionable silence. Talia felt…raw, as if she’d just bared her soul. There was true understanding between them, a meeting of equals. She’d never known anyone else who simply understood.

“I should take a turn,” Savith finally said with a hint of humor. “You’ve been talking so much; you should probably rest your voice.”

“Probably,” Talia agreed, matching her light tone.

“Unlike you, I wasn’t brought here via an Oblivion portal. It might have been clearer if I was.” Savith shifted in her seat as she stared at the fire, seemingly lost in thought.

“I was captured by the Thalmor, not sure if you’re familiar with them. Essentially Altmer supremacists. They took credit for stopping the Oblivion Crisis in the Summerset Isles, and seized power in the Aldmeri Dominion during the wild years that followed Potentate Ocato’s assassination.”

“Ocato dies?” Talia asked in horror. She and the altmer weren’t particularly close, but she had a good working relationship with the man, and they had formed a tentative friendship. Where was she when this all happened? She could have prevented this!

“Oh, fuck sorry! I did it again.”

“No, it’s—,” it wasn’t fine, so Talia couldn’t say that. “It’s ancient history for you.”

“I know but…” Savith said uncertainly, but Talia shook her head.

“Don’t worry about it. Please continue.”

Savith gave her an unsure look, but continued anyway. “As I was saying, I was captured by the Thalmor. Normally, I probably would’ve been able to escape, but I was…betrayed.” She said in a dark tone.

“By whom?”

“There was a civil war in Skyrim at the same time as the Dragon Crisis. It’s a long story that I’ll probably tell you some other time, when we have more ale and mead around,” Savith said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I was initially on the Stormcloaks’ side, they were the Skyrim loyalists. But after I found out some…things about Ulfric,” she looked away from Talia, as if in shame. “I decided to side with the Empire. So I put Elisif the Fair on the throne. We…I thought we were friends. But she sold me out to the Thalmor. Sent me a letter to come to the Blue Palace in Solitude since she needed my help, and I was ambushed.”

Savith’s jaw was clenched so tightly as she spoke. “I was drugged and poisoned, and tortured a lot. That’s why I don’t recall what month it was. Some of my friends attempted to break me out of there. It was a good effort,” her expression melted into exasperated fondness. “But it was obvious we wouldn’t be getting out, there were only five of us, and, well…hundreds of Thalmor. I didn’t want them to die, so I stayed behind to buy them some time. And I thought,” Savith’s lips curled in a vicious smirk. “If I was going to die, I would bring down the entire Thalmor embassy with me. So, I Shouted the sky down.”

Talia stared at her and repeated her words slowly. “Shouted the sky down?”

“Not literally. I’d only seen Alduin do it twice in my life, but I thought it would be a good time to attempt it. It’s a Shout that rains fire and stone from the heavens.”

Wow. Talia didn’t voice it, but it must have shown on her face, since Savith grinned at her.

“Yeah, it was pretty awesome,” she said with a small laugh. “So there I was, the world burning all around me, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a tent, this strange looking bosmer, kneeling over me.”

“What—really?” Talia asked in surprise. And she thought the way she arrived was confusing.

“I know, right?” Savith shook her head. “I didn’t even know they were speaking a different language; I had an amulet on, hang on—,” she riffled through her pack, and with a triumphant noise presented it to Talia. “It’s called the Amulet of Articulation. I got it when I became Guildmaster of the Skyrim Thieves Guild.”

When Talia touched it, she immediately knew it was the same enchantment as the one she’d been developing, but more refined. Either she had been able to go back to Nirn and publish her findings, or someone else had picked up where she left off. Maybe Raminus stopped looking at it with suspicion and decided to study it. It was inspiring, Talia thought, that something she had developed would grow to be used in the future.

“Eventually, I had to stop relying on the amulet. If I was stuck in this world, I needed to adapt to it, so I learned how to read and write in King’s Tongue. I know some Orlesian too.” Savith stuffed it back to her pack and continued her story. “So I talked to these elves, they say I fell out of a mirror. We now know it was an Eluvian, something the Ancient Elves used for teleportation. But back then, all we knew about it was that it was a scary mirror. A Grey Warden named Duncan found us, and brought us back to the dalish camp. The other dalish were afraid of me, but Keeper Marethari, their leader, assured them I wasn’t an abomination.” She rolled her eyes.

Talia had to smile. “You were accused of being an abomination too, huh?”

“It’s the red eyes, isn’t it?” Savith said to her conspiratorially. Then continued in a more sober tone. “There were two who entered the cave, but only one dalish elf survived—her name was Savith Mahariel. What a coincidence, right?” she said drily.

“Indeed, as much of a coincidence as it is that Lavellan’s first name was Talia.” Talia said in an equally wry tone.

“Wow, this place is full of strange coincidences.” Savith said sarcastically, shaking her head. “They asked if I would help them look for the missing boy—Tamlen. I was still feeling weak, but I joined Mahariel, and one other elf. We found the ruins, and I killed a lot of darkspawn.” She rubbed her head in a rueful manner. “I think I frightened the two with how viciously I fought. I was a bit out of sorts, but I remember Shouting some of the darkspawn apart. Duncan found us there, and talked about the mirror being Tainted.”

“Is that why you joined the Grey Wardens? Varric told me you told him you would have preferred never meeting the Warden Commander? Is that Duncan?”

A bitter laugh left Savith’s mouth. “Yes, it was him. Duncan…he’s a good man, from a certain point of view. He’s the one who imparted the most important lesson a Grey Warden has to learn.”

“And what’s that?”

“That a Grey Warden does whatever it takes to stop the darkspawn. Whatever it takes.” She said more viciously.

Talia frowned, but didn’t say anything, waiting for Savith to continue.

“He said the mirror was Tainted, and that Mahariel and Tamlen and anyone who would come across the mirror would be Tainted as well. We went back to camp, and Duncan spoke to the Keeper. When night fell, there was a service to Tamlen…and when I looked up at the sky—” Savith swallowed thickly.

“You couldn’t find any familiar constellations.” Talia said, remembering Leliana’s words.

“That’s when I knew.” she concurred. “Everything else could have been dismissed as the Dalish maybe living in isolation, or living in a different continent. Maybe I had been transported to Akavir or Pyandonea or something. But without those stars to guide us…without Masser and Secunda, I knew I was in an entirely new world.

“I was horrified; I didn’t know what to do. I had left so many behind…my family…” she shook her head. “And the fear of this…Taint.” she said with distaste. “I was desperate for some guidance. And Duncan was the closest figure of authority. I trusted him.”

“What did he do?” Talia asked in concern.

“He had me believe I was Tainted. Oh, he didn’t outright say it, but he implied it. And I was frightened…worried that I was dying and I wouldn’t be able to see my family on Nirn. Seeing Mahariel die of the Taint on the way to Ostagar only served to convince me further. So I joined the Wardens.” She sighed. “He used my concern, my worry, my lack of knowledge of this world to manipulate me into joining. He must have seen me Shout, and realized it was the edge the Wardens needed in their ranks.”

“How do you know you weren’t Tainted for certain?”

Savith gave her a bitter smile. “One night, when Alistair and I were at camp, he asked me why I joined the Wardens. I told him it was because Duncan said I was Tainted. He frowned and told me I wasn’t, else he would have sensed it when I was first brought to camp.”

It was devious, and Talia was begrudgingly impressed at this Duncan’s cunning and underhandedness. She also felt rather sorry for Savith for falling into the trap.

“Well, I suppose I don’t have anyone else to blame but my stupidity. But to be fair, how the fuck was I supposed to know I’d end up one of the only two wardens left in Ferelden, and had to defend this bloody place from a fucking Blight?” she rubbed her forehead in annoyance. “Now I’m the fucking Warden Commander, and all I want is to fucking disappear and I can’t even do that because I’d stick out like a sore thumb anywhere I go.”

“Things would be much simpler if we were Imperials.” Talia said mildly. “At least we’d be able to hide out somewhere.”

“Duncan’s lucky that Joining ritual didn’t do anything disastrous, like turn me into a fucking Archdemon.”

“Sorry?” Talia asked, stunned.

Savith licked her lips, and looked like she was debating with herself. “Look, this might be a huge mistake, but I trust you…” she gave Talia a hopeful look.

“I…don’t trust easily. But I would like to trust you as well,” Talia admitted, giving Savith a reassuring smile. It was ridiculous; they’d known each other for all of two hours, and Talia was already somewhat attached to her. They were two strangers, desperate for something familiar in a world so foreign to them both, that they immediately latched on to each other. Talia felt like Savith had been waiting all this time to finally tell someone from Nirn about what happened to her, and she couldn’t blame her; Talia felt the same way.

Savith beamed at her. “Wait till I tell my father I made friends with the Champion of Cyrodiil!”

The two shared a laugh. When they sobered, Savith started explaining what she meant.

“To become a Grey Warden is to take the Taint into yourself and…master it. To a certain extent.” At Talia’s bewildered look, she added, “The Wardens undergo a Joining Ceremony. There’s this potion; I’m not familiar with the exact contents, but it contains some darkspawn blood.” The two shared a grimace. “More than half of the recruits die during the Joining; it’s a bloody fucking miracle I survived.”

“So that’s why Joining the wardens is the only way to survive the Taint.” Talia murmured. This didn’t bode well at all for Felix.

“Yes, well, we’re only extending our life spans by some time. After some years, it could be from twenty to thirty—a Grey Warden succumbs to the Calling. You start hearing humming, and whispers…the call of the Old Gods. They go to the Deep Roads to kill as many darkspawn as they can before dying.”

“That’s…grim.”

“Such is the illustrious life of the Wardens.” Savith snorted. “But well, what I meant earlier was that Archdemons are Old Gods that had been infected with the Taint. The Old Gods, as far as I can tell, are true dragons.”

“As opposed to…fake dragons?”

Savith rolled her eyes. “I’m serious. The other dragons around here? They aren’t even real dragons. Just beasts. Can’t even fucking talk.” Then she grew more serious. “The Old Gods are more like dragons from Tamriel—intelligent, and powerful. An entire civilization worshipped them for years, much like the dragon cults across Skyrim. The Archdemon was the only dragon that could talk here.”

“You spoke to the Archdemon?” Talia asked in fascination.  

“As one dragon would speak to another. Tinvaak—or rather I tried. He seemed to be too far gone to the Taint to converse properly. But he introduced himself by name, and challenged my Thu’um. I don’t know why it surprised me that Urthemiel was just the name Ancient Tevinters used for them.” Savith leaned forward, as if imparting a dire secret.

“Briinahmaar,” she spoke the name softly, a bit reverently. “Beauty, Fury, Terror. Urthemiel was known as the dragon of beauty in Tevinter.” She smiled at the interest in Talia’s face. “All dragon names are made of Rotmulaag, or Words of Power. Alduin means Destroy, Devour, Master. When you Shout their names, it’s usually a call to directly challenge them.

“Briinahmaar recognized my soul for what it was, and it frightened him, I think. When he died, I didn’t absorb his soul, as I should have.” She looked upset. “I’m still not sure why. When an Archdemon dies, its soul goes to the nearest Tainted body, if it’s a darkspawn, the Archdemon becomes reborn. But if it’s a Warden, it kills both host and the Old God, ending the Blight. I was the closest Warden, so it’s still a mystery.”

Talia tried to recall what she’d read from the book. “The books say Loghain made the killing blow?”

“Well yeah, I had to hide it somehow. Didn’t want the First Warden and everyone else on Weisshaupt to be suspicious. They’re already skeptical of my qunari-elf halfling story, I don’t need another reason for them to sniff around.”

Talia made a mental note to ask about the First Warden and Weisshaupt later. “So only a Grey Warden can end a Blight?”

“Yes,” she frowned. “I still don’t know why I didn’t absorb his soul—though I have no idea what would have happened if I did get his soul.” She gave a long sigh. “Sorry, we veered away to different topics, and I never actually got to my initial point.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Talia reassured her. “I find all of this very fascinating and insightful.”

“Well,” Savith rubbed the back of her neck. “What I was saying earlier…as Dragonborn, I have the soul of a dragon. Since Archdemons are Tainted dragons, well, it’s not that farfetched to conclude I could have ended up as an Archdemon.”

That…was worrisome. “Do you think that’s likely?”

“To be honest? I don’t know.” Savith said pensively. “There’s so much we don’t know about the Taint, and so much I don’t know about being Dragonborn either. I have the souls of hundreds of dragons in me as well, would that have made me the ultimate Archdemon?” she gave Talia a small grin. “I suppose we should thank Akatosh for small mercies.”

“I suppose we should.” Talia said. “But since we’re on the topic of the Taint…I wanted to ask you something.” She added tentatively.

“Of course, what is it?”

“I have a friend who is…Tainted.” Savith’s questioning look turned grim. “I initially wanted to talk to you because I’d heard Grey Wardens held some sort of cure for it…but it seems…”

“I’m sorry, Talia. But there is no cure for the Taint. I could…attempt the Joining, but I need to know that this man can fight.” Savith said apologetically.

Talia grimaced. “That’s the problem. He can’t be a Grey Warden. He’s his father’s only heir, being a Warden would remove him from the line of succession.”

“Then…I don’t know how I can help you.”

“Can’t you perform the Joining but not officially induct him into the ranks?”

“No! Of course not.” Savith stared at her as if she’d grown another head. “You become a Grey Warden the moment you attempt the Joining, I can’t just ignore centuries of tradition. Besides, I’d be putting the Wardens at risk.”

Talia grew frustrated. “Surely there’s something you can do to help him?”

Savith opened her mouth, closed it shut, then looked thoughtful. “There may be something…” she said hesitantly.

“What is it?”

“Nate’s going to kill me,” she groaned. “But, I’ve trusted you this far, I guess a little more can’t hurt.”

When she didn’t say anything more, Talia raised an eyebrow to prompt her.

“I have people looking into an improved version of the Joining potion. Trying to improve the chances of survival. They’re not in Amaranthine, I decided they should do their testing well away from the main base. The less people who know about it the better. Just ah—do you have any issues with blood magic?”

Talia shrugged. “Magic is magic.”

“Well good, because though I have absolutely no background on magic, I know Avernus and Jowan are incorporating some blood magic in their experimentation. They may need someone to test the potion.” Savith gave her a shrug.

It wasn’t ideal, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “I’ll take anything you can give me.” Talia said resignedly.

“Is that the main reason you were looking for me?”

When Talia looked over at her, Savith looked put out, though she couldn’t say why. “No, of course not. I wanted to meet you because you’re the only other person from Nirn on this world. And before you ask, I wanted to look for you long before I learned you were Dragonborn.” she added.

Savith’s expression cleared, and she gave Talia a curious look. “Apart from my being Dragonborn, what else did Leliana tell you about me?”

“Well,” Talia said uncertainly. “She mentioned that you were a member of the Skyrim Thieves Guild…and the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Oh she did, did she?” Savith said in a dangerous tone.

“To be fair, she only told me when she recognized my Black Hand robes.” Talia raised her palms in a placating gesture.

“Ah…of course you’re a Sister as well. I saw you interact with Lucien earlier. Not sure but I think he recognized you? He saved you from that genlock.”

At her words, Talia froze. She’d been trying hard not to think of her encounter with the specter. Savith wasn’t looking at her as she spoke, missing her reaction.

“Yes,” Talia said as calmly as she could. “I’m the current Listener of the Dark Brotherhood.”

“Another thing we have in common then? How do you know Lucien?”

“We—I—,” the words seemed stuck in Talia’s throat, and Savith looked at her in confusion. Talia let out an uncomfortable cough. “He was my mentor.”

“You’re his protégé? The one who became Listener?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes.”

 “Do you want to speak with him? I can summon him but—,” she raised her right hand, and Talia, in her panic, grabbed Savith’s hand and pushed it down to her lap. The Dragonborn blinked at her in shock.

“I apologize. I do not think I’m ready to see him again.” she said haltingly.

Understanding dawned on Savith’s face, then sorrow. “Talia, I’m sorry. I should have realized. He spoke of you a lot, and about…what happened.”

“Yes—well—can we speak of something else?” she asked rather desperately. Could she sound any more pathetic? She thought disgustedly.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Um…so what are our next steps then?”

Talia clung to the change of topic. “Well,” she cleared her throat. “My main concern right now is getting out of the Deep Roads alive. We’ve been roped into this strange war between Bhelen and Duran. Bhelen doesn’t know I’m here, I snuck in when he granted passage to Blackwall and Nathaniel. He took one of my men hostage; he was posing as a Grey Warden, so Bhelen doesn’t know that the Inquisition’s involved. Now Duran…” she pinched the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “Duran wants to strike a deal with me. He knows about the Inquisition and seems to want my help with something. I suspect he won’t give me a choice.”

“Wait. Duran knows about the existence of the Inquisition?” Savith asked in shock.

“Yes, he recognized me from vague rumours he heard.” Talia squinted. “Now that I think about it, did he not tell you about us?”

“No,” she sighed. “Of course he didn’t. Duran hates me. I think he blames me for putting Bhelen on the throne.”

Talia opened her mouth to counter that, but then realized Nathaniel had asked Ruvin if he resented her for giving Bhelen the throne. She could see why Duran would detest Savith for giving his traitorous brother that much power.

“Do you know what’s going on with those two?” Talia asked.

“No, the dwarves down here generally don’t speak with me. I think they find me intimidating. And they do know I supported Bhelen ten years ago.” she waved her hand in a gesture of annoyance. “I was also in different parts of the Deep Roads in the last few months; I’ve only been staying in the area this past month or so. And tensions had already heightened by that time. I heard that Bhelen double-crossed them in some way, but I don’t know what happened.”

“Yes, I heard that too,” Talia said. “Do you think Duran would ask the Wardens for help? Nathaniel has already emphasized your neutrality, but I don’t think they believe it.”

Savith groaned in frustration. “Why can’t people understand that whatever’s happening now is so incredibly different from when we were in a bloody fucking Blight?”

Talia said nothing, but she did understand the points of view of both Savith and the dwarves. Savith had needed to intervene to get the dwarves’ assistance for the Blight, and they were extenuating circumstances. However, the dwarves have already seen that Savith could assist them, but only if she chooses to do so. It was a difficult situation, one that Talia was certain she’d be put in a lot with the Inquisition.

“The way I see it, Duran either hates me so much, that he won’t even deign to consider me an ally, or hate me so much that he’ll guilt me into ‘fixing’ this problem with Bhelen. In any event, I think I’ll be there to support you.” Savith said.

“Nathaniel won’t be happy with that.” Talia warned her, but she was warmed by how quickly Savith decided to help.

“Well, sadly for him, he’s not the boss of me,” she muttered petulantly, and Talia smiled faintly.

“We probably have more to speak about,” Savith said. “But I think we should get out of here first before we talk about more future plans.”

Talia nodded. “I agree. Let’s deal with Duran and Bhelen first. We’ll head to Skyhold—the Inquisition’s base, after. It’s not far from here, and we can restock on supplies and regroup there.”

“Sure, it’ll be great to get out of the Deep Roads, I think I’ve had enough of it to last a lifetime,” she made a face.

“I think it’s time for Nathaniel’s watch, anyway. I’ll go wake him,” Talia volunteered. As she stood, she remembered something. “By the way, I told Ruvin and the other dwarves down here that you were my sister. It was the only way they would let me into the Thaig. I hope you don’t mind.” She said apologetically.

Savith beamed at her. “Sisters with the Champion of Cyrodiil? I don’t think my father’s heart can take much more.”

Talia chuckled. “If we ever do get the chance, I’d love to meet your father.”

“I’m sure he’ll be equally thrilled.”

“Good night, Savith.” she said as she turned away.

“Good night, Sister.” Came her teasing response.

Talia woke Nathaniel up for his watch and he gave her a squinty look before rolling out of bed. She placed her bedroll away from Blackwall’s and settled in for the night. She could hear Nathaniel and Savith speaking in low tones by the fire, likely discussing Grey Warden matters.

Talia felt unburdened in a way she hadn’t for a long time. Finally meeting Savith had been a balm to her soul. The other dunmer was so vibrant that Talia could immediately see what had endeared Leliana to her. She was unrestrained with her emotions, and was quick to trust, something that surprised Talia. She couldn’t help but match Savith’s energy, and be as honest and open as she allowed herself to be.

There were new problems to solve though. The implications of Flemeth’s vague words, their strange connections to the Talia and Savith of this world, the manner of Savith’s appearance on Thedas, Lucien reappearing in her life…

Still, finding Savith was a major victory for her. Talia laughed privately as she remembered Savith’s initial reaction to her name. Who knew the Dragonborn was a fan of the Champion of Cyrodiil?

Chapter Text

“Lass! You’re back!” Ruvin called out to them enthusiastically as they approached the gates to the Aeducan Thaig.

As soon as they were rested, Savith had suggested heading back to speak with Duran. Talia was surprised that Savith wanted to head back to the Thaig immediately, but the Dragonborn assured her that she’d already gotten everything she needed from Amgarrak. Talia had been a little put out that she hadn’t been able to see the Thaig, but time was of the essence, and she really wasn’t there to sightsee.

Talia smiled at Ruvin, but before she could say anything, Savith wrapped an arm around her neck in a half-hug and waved back at the dwarf. She resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow at the other dunmer.

“Ruvin! Thanks for letting my sister pass!” Savith gave her a squeeze before releasing her. “I heard that you’re the dwarf who made it happen.”

He waved away their gratitude. “No thanks necessary!”

“Hello Ruvin, it’s good to see you again.” Talia said warmly.

“Ah lass, I’m glad you were able to find her. I’ve spoken to the King as well, and smoothed everything over. No beheadings for me of any sort.” Ruvin said wryly.

“How unfortunate.” Nathaniel muttered. The old dwarf looked past her and scowled at the two men behind them.

“I see you haven’t gotten rid of the young’un over there. Hoping the Warden-Commander’s presence makes him behave a little bit better.”

Savith gave Nathaniel a look and the warden coughed awkwardly.

“I believe King Duran wants to speak with me?” Talia brought Ruvin’s attention back to her.

 “Yes, he mentioned you may be able to help with our problem.”

“Well…I’d have to know what the problem is first.”

He added in a chiding tone, “And don’t think I’m not upset at you for not telling me you’re part of this Inquisition thing.”

Talia gave the dwarf her best approximation of a sheepish smile. “It didn’t seem like important information at the time?”

Ruvin maintained his disappointed expression for a few seconds before shaking his head ruefully. “Ah, well, if you’re able to help us, I’ll be more than willing to forgive you.” He turned towards the gate. “You can follow me. Aimur over there,” the young dwarf gave them an awkward wave when they looked over at him. “Can bring your companions to a room where you can stay.”

“Hang on,” Blackwall said. “I’m not leaving—,”

“If you think for one moment—,” Nathaniel began hotly.

“The Wardens have not been invited to this meeting.” Ruvin interrupted testily.

Nathaniel looked like he wanted to say something more, but Savith placed a hand on his shoulder to forestall him.

“The Wardens haven’t been invited, but I’m coming, Ruvin,” then Savith added when Ruvin’s expression turned into one of consternation, “I’ll just be there to support Talia. The Wardens as a whole are neutral,” she gave both men a stern look, “but I can’t sit idly by and let my sister go into a meeting with King Duran alone.”

Ruvin was clearly exasperated, but he didn’t argue any further. “All right, but just you. Those two troublemakers are going with Aimur.” He turned on his heel and started walking. Talia stalked after him him, with Savith soon following after reassuring Nathaniel and Blackwall.

Their second jaunt through the Thaig gave Talia a bit more insight about the place. Savith, having been visiting the Thaig on occasion while she had been in the Deep Roads pointed out different areas she was familiar with.

“They have some talented enchanters down here, probably some members of the artisan guild,” Savith explained as they passed by the room where they were growing food. Talia looked over the artificial lighting they’d set up to keep the plants alive. “There’s a wealth of lyrium in the Deep Roads; they don’t use soul gems like we do.”

Lyrium seemed to be incredibly versatile; she wondered what it was made of. So far, she’d seen it used for recovering mana, providing templar abilities, and enchanting weapons and armor.

“And those hairless rabbits?” Talia asked curiously, she remembered seeing the pen, but there seemed to be even more of the animals than there were a day ago.

Savith grinned. “They do look like hairless rabbits, don’t they? They’re nugs. Really easy to breed, and a good source of meat especially down here. Much better than having deepstalker that’s for sure.” She made a face as she spoke, and Talia decided against asking her about it.

They took a turn into one of the larger corridors. At the end, there were two dwarves standing guard before a stone double-door. The dwarves bowed and stepped aside, allowing Ruvin to step forward.

As Ruvin opened the doors, Talia could see Duran in the middle of the room, speaking with a dark-haired female dwarf who looked unimpressed with him. They both glanced up from where they were huddled over a map, and Duran smirked when he saw them. The female dwarf assessed them surreptitiously, sharp eyes giving them a quick once-over. She had a curious tattoo on her cheek, similar to some of the ones Talia had seen on other dwarves walking around the Thaig.

“King Duran,” Talia inclined her head in greeting as the two stepped away from the table and approached her.

“Well, if it isn’t my new friend, the Herald of Andraste,” Duran grinned. “Let me introduce my companion—,”

“Fuck off, Duran. I got a tongue, don’t I? I can introduce myself.” The woman said waspishly. Surprisingly, Duran snorted instead of telling her off, though Talia could see that Ruvin held his halberd a little more tightly when she insulted him. She folded her arms over her chest and looked at Talia as if she were sizing her up. “Name’s Natia Brosca. But call me Brosca; everyone does.”

“Talia Indoril, pleased to meet you.” She replied politely. “I’m sure you already know my sister.” She gestured towards Savith.

Duran’s expression turned flat. “Warden-Commander.”

“King Duran.” Savith said neutrally.

“Hey Savith.” Brosca gave her a grin. “What’s all this sister business? Thought you said you were an only child.”

Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to Talia that Savith might have told other people she didn’t have siblings.

Talia feigned offense. “Disowning me again, sister?”

Savith nudged her with an elbow. “Aw, don’t look so sour, Talia.”

“Well,” Duran interrupted their banter. “Now that we’re all here, perhaps it’s time to speak of our potential…agreement, Herald.” He gestured towards the table.

“Of course.” She said graciously as she and Savith took a spot on the side of the table opposite Brosca and Duran. Ruvin sheathed the halberd on his back before joining them. Talia peered down at the map that the two dwarves had been looking at earlier. There was a room encircled with red ink; she couldn’t presume to know what it meant, so she was a bit surprised when Savith spoke up.

“Are you trying to get into the Shaperate?”

The other dunmer was frowning when Talia turned to glance at her.

Brosca grunted her assent. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

Duran pursed his lips, but didn’t answer Savith, instead turning to Talia, asking, “What do you know of dwarven politics, Herald?”

“In truth, I have no knowledge of how your kingdoms work. Either Orzammar or the Aeducan Thaig.”

Brosca started at Talia’s words, though the dunmer wasn’t sure what it was she said that surprised the dwarf.

Duran and Ruvin looked pleased. “The Aeducan Thaig isn’t much of a kingdom, but we’re only just beginning of course. And while we are separate from Orzammar, we’re looking to unite our kingdoms eventually.”

Oh, Talia thought with amusement. They were pleased that she’d acknowledged the sovereignty of the Aeducan Thaig. She hadn’t even been trying to butter up Duran; it just seemed like it was true.

“Life in Orzammar is heavily driven by the caste system,” Duran continued. “I was born in the noble caste, same with Ruvin over here.”

Talia thought it would have been rude, so she didn’t ask what Brosca’s caste was.

“The monarch of Orzammar, could be a King or Queen, is the sole ruler of the kingdom. However, they share part of their power with the Assembly. It’s a group of dwarves called deshyrs, also from the noble caste, who gets to create or vote in new laws, and pass judgment on criminals. Ruvin, as you know, used to be part of the Assembly before he was tried with treason.” The aging dwarf grumbled at the reminder, but didn’t say anything else. “It wasn’t the perfect system, but it got things done.”

“Yeah, for the nobles.” Brosca muttered darkly.

Ruvin glowered at her. “Now listen here, you little—,”

“Enough,” Duran pitched his voice louder, interrupting their spat. “Ruvin, Natia’s right. When was the last time the Assembly did anything for the casteless?”

Ruvin sputtered as he scrounged for a response.

“As for you,” he rounded on Brosca, “now is not the time to antagonize Ruvin. We will set things right with the casteless.” He placed a hand on her shoulder bracingly.

“Yeah, yeah,” she batted him away half-heartedly.

“And what does it mean that you’ll be setting things right with the casteless? Are you prepared to throw away centuries of tradition?”

Duran gave him a level look. “If it means not wasting a third of our people, Ruvin? Then yes.”

Ruvin seemed to be struck dumb by this statement while Brosca looked on smugly.

Talia watched them interact and silently catalogued what she learned in her mind. Brosca was casteless, and it seemed she still held some animosity towards the nobility, despite her friendship with Duran. Ruvin seemed not to care for her and vice-versa, but both were close to Duran, the only reason they even spoke to each other.

“But this isn’t the purpose of our meeting,” Duran herded them back to their original topic. “As I mentioned, Herald, the Assembly used to be there as a…counterweight to the monarch. But as of a few months ago, Bhelen had managed to ‘disband’ the Assembly.”

“Legally?” Talia asked.

Savith let out a dry chuckle beside her. “Bhelen never does things legally, Talia.”

“In this case, the Warden-Commander is unfortunately right,” Duran grunted. “He claimed that members of the Assembly had attempted a coup—apparently there were certain families that just couldn’t be bought.” He finished darkly. “He has routinely either killed, exiled, or disempowered anyone who could oppose him. With Bhelen running around unchecked…I fear Orzammar can’t survive much longer under these circumstances.”

“Speak plainly, King Duran.” Talia said with a hint of impatience.

The dwarven king sighed deeply before answering. “I want to depose Bhelen.”

Savith asked the question that was on both their minds. “Not kill him?”

“He would deserve it, wouldn’t he?” Duran said darkly. “But no, I cannot. My father died knowing in his heart that I was not a kin-killer, and I do not plan on betraying his memory in that manner.”

Talia was both disappointed and relieved. Killing Bhelen would have been easy, but she didn’t necessarily want to brand the Inquisition as assassins-for-hire.

“Well, how are you going to get Bhelen out of the way, then?” Savith asked.

“There is an ancient law that allows one to unseat a monarch, and pass it onto whoever is next in line, if a claim can be made that they have been ruling unjustly. Since Bhelen’s son is not of age, the monarch’s power is temporarily passed onto whoever moves to unseat them, until the heir is ready.”

Interesting, Talia thought. “I assume there’s a requirement for becoming the deposer, otherwise I’m certain this law would have been abused many times over the years.”

“Indeed,” Ruvin nodded firmly. “The accuser must be a Paragon.”

The dunmer frowned. Paragon? Wasn’t that one of their revered ancients of some sort? As she glanced to the side, she saw Savith looking at Duran thoughtfully.

“…do any of you fit that criteria?” Talia asked.

“You probably don’t know, but clearing out a Thaig that’s been lost is practically unheard of. But it’s what Duran did.” Brosca spoke up. “He gathered us exiled dwarves, those who were innocent, or repentant, those who wanted to survive, and cleared out the Aeducan Thaig, all the way up to the Orzammar entrance. Not only that, but we made the Thaig livable. We’ve got hundreds of lost artifacts from the Aeducan family—by the fucking Stone—Paragon Aeducan himself was buried here! And he can be safely visited by anyone who wants to pay tribute to him. So yeah, you could say Duran fits the criteria.”

Even Duran looked a little startled at Brosca’s defense, but a pleased smile curled his lip. Brosca cleared her throat, her face reddening in embarrassment.

“My apologies if I’ve offended, as I mentioned, I am not well-versed in dwarven politics or tradition.” Talia said diplomatically.

Brosca waved away her apologies, still a little red in the cheeks. “Don’t worry about it, I just got a little carried away there. I’m still fucking pissed at Bhelen, that fucking snake.”

“How did Bhelen betray you exactly?” Savith asked.

“Apart from the first time?” Duran asked dryly, before turning serious. “After a few months of stability, some of the Orzammar dwarves who patrolled around here regularly noticed the lack of darkspawn and apparently informed Bhelen. I’m sure he would have kept it to himself, but it leaked to members of the Assembly. Soon after, I was called to present myself; it’s quite the interesting predicament for them—an exiled dwarf being potentially elevated to Paragon status—they were beside themselves.” Duran rubbed his forehead in exasperation. “The Assembly being, well, the Assembly, it took them months to talk it over. I was summoned around four or five times. Even managed to reconnect with Bhelen,” he said bitterly. “I had thought that after ten years as King, my brother would have changed. He had a wife and child he loved…call me foolish but—,”

“You’re foolish,” Brosca said flatly.

“Thank you, Natia,” he rolled his eyes. “I was willing to put the past behind us and start anew. I had no deigns on the Orzammar throne, I was—am—happy here in the Thaig. But then…but then…” Duran trailed off, his expression shifting to barely concealed rage.

“We were set up,” Ruvin said plainly, continuing where Duran left off. “Given the wrong hour to go to the Assembly chambers. There were a few deshyrs there who supported us. The doors were barricaded, and Bhelen ordered everyone’s death.”

Talia felt some sympathy for him, but in her opinion, he should never have trusted someone who already framed him once.

Duran smiled viciously. “He didn’t count on some of the guards siding with me, their potential new Paragon. They cleared a path for us and stalled the Bhelen loyalists, allowing us to retreat back into the Deep Roads.” Then he added more solemnly, “I heard that they, along with the guards at the entrance who allowed our escape, were sentenced to death. They sacrificed their lives for us; I do not intend to let their sacrifice be in vain.”

“Then without you there, Bhelen pinned the entire thing on you,” Talia surmised.

“Called me an ‘assassin’. Hah! The only death there that I contributed was Frandlin Ivo,” Duran smirked. “And what a joy it was to finally end the life of that smarmy bastard.”

“Assassin does seem like a far cry from Paragon.”

“Paragon-elect,” Duran corrected. “Hasn’t been finalized, though I suspect the Assembly had already agreed to put me forth as Paragon…which was why Bhelen went ahead with his plan. It was never officially announced, so nobody outside the Assembly knew anything beyond rumors.”

“Then how is your plan to depose Bhelen supposed to work?” Savith asked bluntly.

Duran reached out and tapped the encircled room on the map. “The Shaperate contains all records of happenings in the Kingdom. After Bhelen disbanded the Assembly, I heard he tried to get into the Shaperate, presumably to get rid of the slab that chronicled my being Paragon-elect. The Shapers have made the decision to close off the Shaperate until the situation is ‘resolved’. No one gets in or out.”

Ruvin grunted. “You wouldn’t believe the number of locks and fail-safes on those gates. They can only be opened from the inside.”

“We still need to figure it out, but we need Duran’s memory slab; our entire plan hinges on that thing,” Brosca grimaced.

“But being Paragon-elect is vastly different from being an actual Paragon,” Talia pointed out. “It’s not going to be enough to oust Bhelen.”

“Yes, we need to get the Assembly to formalize it, preferably in a public setting.”

“Will the Assembly’s power still be recognized even if they’ve been disbanded?”

Ruvin scratched at his beard. “It’s unprecedented, but I believe so. If the Assembly announces it, the Lord Shaper Czibor will engrave it in the Shaperate, making it an official part of dwarven history.”

“And with it being public, Bhelen has no choice but to grant us an audience, or he loses face with the entirety of the Kingdom.” Duran added.

“What do you need the memory slab for then?” Talia gestured to the map. “I assume all members of the Assembly already know you’re Paragon-elect?”

“The slab’s not for the Assembly. Seweryn, that’s the captain of the guard, can be swayed to our side if we can prove that King Duran’s being considered for Paragon.” Ruvin said.

“He’s crazy about dwarven traditions,” Brosca explained. “If the guards side with us, then we’ll be able to move around Orzammar more easily while we prepare the thing with the Assembly…it’s going to take some time.”

“Plus, we’ll go around the Commons and the Dust District to spread the word, and a Shaperate memory slab is the best thing we can show them to convince them it’s true.”

Wow, Talia thought. What a mess.

“This plan doesn’t really inspire a lot of confidence.” Savith said wryly.

“That’s true,” Duran sighed. “Our plan isn’t quite ironclad; there is a lot of uncertainty surrounding it.”

“And where do I come into this, exactly?” Talia asked curiously. “Much as I would like to help you, I don’t necessarily have the time to spare to see your entire plan through.”

“We don’t really need you for the entire thing,” Brosca said dismissively. “Otherwise, you’d be staying in Orzammar for months.”

Duran crossed his arms and leaned his hip on the table. “When we first met, you said you ‘sneaked’ into the Deep Roads without Bhelen’s knowledge.”

Talia inclined her head in assent.

“As a former member of the royal family, I happen to know that there is only one entrance connecting Orzammar to the Deep Roads.”

“Perhaps.”

“So I would like to know how you entered here unseen by Bhelen, and if it’s possible to sneak back into Orzammar the same way.”

All three dwarves were throwing her expectant gazes, and Talia took care to keep her disposition neutral. She was silent for a moment before confirming. “You’re right; there is only one entrance connecting Orzammar and the Deep Roads. That I know of at least.”

“Then you managed to pass unseen. How did you get past Bhelen’s guards? I know for a fact that after what happened, he never left the entrance unguarded.”

Talia stared at them for a moment, unwilling to give up her secrets. It was bad enough that she’d had to use her magic in front of Nathaniel and Blackwall, but to divulge it to strangers? She needed to get something in return…something big.

“You ask for much, Duran,” she finally said.

“Do I?” Duran asked. “Perhaps we can sweeten the deal.”

“Oh?”

There was a long pause before Duran shrugged. “…well what does the Inquisition want?”

Brosca and Ruvin groaned. “Duran that’s not how you fucking open negotiations!”

“We’ll get nowhere if we dance around it.” He rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I tire of all this wordplay; Bhelen’s a lot better at it than I am.” He turned to Talia. “Name your price, Herald.”

Talia raised an eyebrow, intrigued; this had the potential to go very well for the Inquisition. What she wanted was a tall order, so she needed to give them something more.

Her hand brushed the Skeleton Key hidden in her pocket, and she realized she already held the literal key to all their problems.

“I want an alliance with Orzammar,” she said confidently.

“An alliance?” Ruvin cocked his head in confusion. “What for?”

“Something’s brewing in Ferelden and Orlais…whoever killed the Divine and created the Breach is moving in the shadows, but I suspect it won’t stay that way forever. The Inquisition needs all the help it can get to stop this threat.”

Ruvin gave her an appraising look, as if he were seeing Talia for the first time.

“An alliance would mean Orzammar would come to our aid in the event that it does lead to open battle. Apart from that, dwarven engineers and architects are the best at their craft, and we do have need of them. And opening trade route for lyrium would help us immensely.” When Brosca looked unimpressed, Talia smiled. “An alliance goes both ways too, you know. You scratch our backs, we scratch yours.”

“You ask for much, Herald.” Duran said with a hint of humor, stroking his blonde beard in contemplation.

“Indeed, but I can get you into Orzammar.”

“And you believe that this is already worth an alliance with our kingdom?” Ruvin sounded affronted at the very idea.

“No, but I can offer you something more.” Talia placed her hands on the table, and leaned towards Duran with a smirk. “I can get you into the Shaperate.”

The silence that followed her statement stretched out for a moment before it was broken by Brosca.

“That’s impossible,” she scoffed. “That place is locked up tighter than any dwarven vault.”

“Trust me. Locks are my specialty.”

“Oh?” Duran asked in an intrigued tone.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a regular lock, dwarven lock, a magical lock—whatever it is, I can open it.”

Ruvin gazed at her skeptically, and to her side, Savith was giving her a suspicious look.

“Perhaps a demonstration?” Talia said graciously. “If you want to test me, you may.”

“If you can truly get us into the Shaperate…” Duran said slowly.

“I can.” she proclaimed with bravado.

There was another bout of silence.

“…I need to talk this over with Ruvin and Natia.” He finally said. “Can you give us the room for a few moments?”

“Of course.”

Both she and Savith exited the chamber, and stayed near the doors. Talia had been tempted to eavesdrop, but the narrowed gazes of the guards across them dissuaded her. Besides, she was already fairly confident that Duran could not disdain her help. Without her, it could take them months, if they did at all, to figure out how to enter the Shaperate undetected.

“You think they’ll give you the alliance you want?” Savith asked quietly as they lounged by the door.

Talia hummed. “It depends on how desperately Duran needs to get into the Shaperate. But if they’re willing to ask a stranger for help, then I think they must be.”

“I think so too,” Savith said. “And I think Duran’s going to need my help too.”

“You do?” she asked in surprise.

“Well, I know you can sneak them into Orzammar with your magic. But it would be a little suspicious to see the door open with nobody there, wouldn’t it?”

The stone door beside them opened, and Brosca’s head popped out. “Hey, you two, we’re done talking.”

Talia and Savith reentered the room and returned to their place at the other end of the table. The three dwarves looked at each other uncertainly before nodding towards Duran who turned to face them.

“We’ll give you your alliance if you can prove it to us.” The king said, though his tone was full of doubt. His skepticism only served to make Talia smile.

“We have a door down here,” Brosca spoke up. “No one’s been able to open it for hundreds of years probably. I can take you to look at it.”

Talia inclined her head. “Lead the way.”

As they traversed the Thaig, Duran and Ruvin hung back to the end of their group, conversing in low tones, and Savith was strangely sullen, leaving Talia with only Brosca for conversation.

“Any idea what’s behind the locked door?”

Brosca shrugged. “Eh, could be anything. It’s a pretty small room, so maybe more old shit.”

“Old shit?” she asked wryly.

“You know, artifacts and stuff. Maybe something important since the thing they put on the door is the most complicated shit I’ve ever seen in my life…and I know my way ‘round a lock too.”

“Fiddled with many locks, have you?”

“Yeah, I’m not really ashamed of it. Did what I had to to survive.” Brosca snorted. “When you’re casteless, you don’t really have much of a choice. And those old fucks in the Diamond quarter wonder why almost every one of us becomes criminals.” She rolled her eyes.

Talia grew contemplative at that. It was a similar situation with many living in the poor districts of the Imperial City. The Guild did what it could to protect them, but there was only so much that they could do. Giving those people honest work would have gone a long way in improving their lives.

“Here we are.” Brosca’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

The door she was led to was an ornate stone slab set into the wall. In the middle of the door, there were multiple divots that Talia assumed were where you had to insert multiple small keys to open. One part of the mechanism had multiple scratches; it seemed someone had indeed tried to force the door open.

“Well,” Brosca said brusquely, gesturing towards the door. “Have at it then.”

Talia nodded and stepped forward. “I’m going to need you to step back a little to give me space.” As Brosca and Duran retreated a few steps away, she knelt in front of the door and took out the Skeleton Key.

Nocturnal, guide me.

The Key hummed in her hand as she passed it in between the cracks of the door, and Talia could feel the daedric magic pulse as it seeped into the mechanism and undid the lock.

The door gave a shudder, and slowly slid open.

“Ancestors!” Duran exclaimed.

“By the Stone…” Ruvin said in a stunned voice. Savith looked disquieted as she hovered behind the dwarf.

“Well,” Talia smirked at the dumbfounded dwarves. “After you?”

Duran and Ruvin stumbled forward in their haste to enter the room. Brosca followed suit, but not before beckoning both dunmer into the chamber with them. Talia followed at a slower pace, with Savith still suspiciously quiet behind her.

As the dwarves lit the braziers, bathing the small room in a soft glow, Talia appraised her surroundings with great interest.

There were different weapons of all kinds mounted on the walls. She inspected one of the battleaxes near her; it seemed to be imbued with some type of enchantment. Passing her hand over it, she tried to get a sense of what the enchantment was. There were runes engraved on the weapon and wrapped around the hilt which glowed lightly as she touched it.

“I don’t believe it…” Duran spoke, and Talia turned to him. He was goggling at a set of armor set at the end of the room. Ruvin was in a similar state, and he looked as if he would start muttering prayers under his breath.

The armor on the stand gleamed under the torchlight. It looked very similar to silver, though she doubted any warrior would have worn silver armor. Duran reached out and touched one pauldron lightly, staring at it reverently.

“Ten years ago, I was sent down in this Thaig to retrieve Aeducan’s shield…a shield that Bhelen ultimately used to orchestrate my exile.” He exhaled heavily. “It is ridiculous, but I cannot help but wonder what finding Aeducan’s armor will bring about.”

Ruvin slowly approached him from behind and placed a bracing hand on his shoulder. “It’s true, finding Aeducan’s shield led to your exile and Bhelen becoming king. And in truth, I believe history will repeat itself.”

When Duran looked at him in confusion, the older dwarf elaborated. “At the end of all this, another Aeducan will be exiled, and his brother will take his place as heir.”

Brosca chuckled lowly and stepped forward, placing her hand on the king’s other shoulder. “Irony is a bitch. So is Bhelen. So you wear that armor, Duran Aeducan, and claim your place in Orzammar as our newest Paragon.”

“I—but is it not sacrilegious?”

“My king—lad—I cannot think of anyone more worthy of wearing Paragon Aeducan’s armor.”

“Well maybe me,” Brosca joked, nudging Duran’s ribs. “But seriously, you’re Duran-fucking-Aeducan. You’re our new paragon, and I don’t need the Assembly to tell me that. Where you go, I’ll follow.”

“As will I.” Ruvin said firmly.

Duran looked like he would be overcome with emotion.

“My friends, you honor me,” he snaked his arms over the shoulders of his dwarven companions. “I promise you, for our Thaig, for Orzammar, for each and every dwarf that has been wronged; I will bring Bhelen to justice.” He pulled them into a fierce hug. “And we will turn Orzammar into a kingdom where all dwarves regardless of caste are welcome—where we can all live a full life.”

There, in the dim torchlight, Talia could see their flicker of hope blaze into burning resolve.

“So,” Duran said, once they returned to their makeshift war room, “you can open the gates to the Shaperate.” He sounded much more convinced now that he finally saw her in action.

“As I said.” Talia nodded with a smirk.

“I believe I owe you an alliance.”

“Indeed.”

“Then you shall have it,” Duran said with conviction.

Talia smiled. “We can draw the terms of the alliance at a later date. I suspect the Inquisition’s ambassador would prefer to be present during such talks.”

“Then let us talk of strategy first?” the dwarf leaned on the table. “You say you can sneak us into Orzammar?”

She looked back at Savith in askance, and at the other dunmer’s nod, she said, “I can probably sneak a small group into Orzammar. We’ll time it at the same moment Savith and the other wardens enter back into the kingdom; that way, we won’t have to worry about opening the gates ourselves.” She braced herself as she willingly gave up her secret. “I can cast an invisibility field making sure we’re unseen as we enter just behind the wardens.”

Ruvin’s eyes widened in shock. “You’re a mage, lass?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. “And I must ask for your discretion on the matter.”

All three dwarves nodded, though she doubted they would keep it to themselves. But it was a calculated risk, she just hoped the entire thing would pan out.

“We were looking at around five dwarves—me, Duran, and three others.” Brosca said. “That ok with you?”

“You’re not coming, Ruvin?” Talia asked in mild surprise.

The aged dwarf shook his head. “Someone has to take charge here in the Thaig while Duran’s gone. And I’m no good at all this sneaking business. I’ll follow eventually; need to be present when our new Paragon’s presented to the kingdom.”

“I see,” Talia turned back to Brosca. “Yes, five should be fine. But we’d need to practice with your team. You need to get used to being invisible. It can be disorienting at first.”

“If you told me yesterday that I’d let anyone willingly cast a spell on me, I’d have laughed you outta this room,” Brosca grumbled, and Talia bit back an amused grin at her ire.

“Once we’re in, we might need a day or two to regroup. While we can plan all we want, we can’t deny that anything we know about how the Shaperate is guarded may be outdated.” Duran said.

In truth, she was confident enough in her skills as a thief to get into the Shaperate alone. Unfortunately, she had no knowledge of what the memory slab might look like, and even with illustrations, she wouldn’t know where to look for it.  

Talia agreed. “I think I have the time to spare, but once I get the memory slab, I need to be going.”

She and Savith still needed to go back to Skyhold, pick up Felix and head to where the wardens were developing the new joining potion.

“Don’t worry, we won’t keep you for long, I know you have other responsibilities.” Duran smiled. “If we’re successful, we’ll send a formal letter to the Inquisition.”

“And what guarantee do I have that you’ll follow through with this?” Talia asked lightly.

“Are you questioning the king’s integrity—?” Ruvin sounded appropriately offended, but Duran raised a hand to forestall him.

“It’s a valid question, Ruvin. Herald, I am already in your debt—and you will be aiding us even further—what can I do to assure you that I have no plans to go renege on our deal? A signed agreement?”

Talia gazed at him contemplatively. That was likely a bad idea. In the event the entire thing went sideways, there should be no evidence that the Inquisition was involved in the coup against Bhelen. She should probably just improvise. “I want a binding oath.”

Duran blinked. “I don’t see how—,”

“A magical oath, King Duran.”

“You’re one of those blood mage shits?” Brosca asked in disgust.

Talia chuckled. “I am not, as you say, ‘one of those blood mage shits’.”

“Then what do you mean by—?”

“It’s not powered by blood…but by our words and our intent. And it’s not going to do any lasting damage. We shake on our agreement, and the magic ensures that you don’t forget about it.” She gave him a reassuring look and extended her hand.

Duran looked at it skeptically. “Is this truly necessary?”

“King Duran,” Talia said solemnly. “You are now one of nine people who know I’m a mage. Before I agreed to do this for you, only six other people knew. I understand your reservations, but know that I have imparted a great secret to help you. Allow me this—if only to put me somewhat at ease.”

He appraised her for a moment before sighing. “I can see that this is important to you. And as I have every intention of pushing through with this…then I agree.” He took Talia’s hand and gave it a firm shake.

Talia let a spell rush onto their joined hands. Brosca and Ruvin gasped as their hands glowed briefly, before the light disappeared altogether.

Duran gave her a resolute nod. “You have my word, Herald.”

“Thank you, King Duran. I look forward to the time when Orzammar and the Inquisition can work together in a more formal capacity.”

The two dunmer were then escorted to their rooms, giving the trio sometime to regroup. The dwarf who led them gave a bow as he left them in front of their chambers.

“Can I talk to you?” Savith asked just before they entered.

Talia turned to her curiously. “Yes of course.”

As they opened the doors, Talia could see that neither Blackwall nor Nathaniel was in residence, likely walking around the Thaig.

As soon as the door was shut behind them, Savith rounded on her, eyes filled with fury. “What the fuck, Talia?”

“Excuse me?” she asked in bewilderment.

“You had better give me a good fucking explanation of why you thought stealing the Skeleton Key from Nocturnal was a good idea.”

“What—steal? I didn’t steal the Key.” Talia said in confusion. “What are you even talking about? She gave this to me when I became her Champion.”

Savith faltered. “I—what? No…no that’s…”

“Yes. She instructed me to find one of her artifacts, the Eye of Nocturnal. When I returned it to her, she granted me the Skeleton Key as a boon.”

Curiously, Savith clutched at her chest and closed her eyes, as if in pain.

“Savith. What’s this about?” Talia was a little miffed, but seeing Savith’s distress had all but evaporated her anger.

“Nothing, I—sorry I have to go.” Savith turned to leave, but Talia’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“You owe me an explanation.” She said firmly.

The other dunmer was quiet for a moment, still rubbing at her chest. She sighed heavily before turning back to her. “The guildmaster before me, Mercer Frey… he was a Nightingale. I don’t know the why and the how, but he stole the Skeleton Key from the Twilight Sepulcher, and it…corrupted him.”

Talia remained silent, letting Savith speak unhindered.

Savith had a faraway look in her eyes. “When I joined, the guild had been down on its luck for years, and no one seemed to know why. But after I joined, it seemed as if we were getting some good gigs again, you know? Brynjolf called me a lucky charm—he’s the guy who recruited me. When I met Mercer, he was cold and calculating, a veritable bastard as some would say.” Savith gave a small laugh. “He was all of that and more…but I trusted him. I knew…somewhere buried beneath the harsh words and the uncaring attitude, he cared about m—the guild.”

Talia caught her slip, but didn’t point it out.

“I trusted him.” She repeated softly. “So when we went on a mission together to catch the person sabotaging the guild, I followed him blindly. And in that crypt…Snow-Veil Sanctum…I got shot by an arrow tipped with paralytic poison. I lay on the ground helplessly as I learned the truth—he killed a member of the Nightingale triumvirate, and framed the other for his murder, leaving him the sole power in the guild.”

Savith swallowed visibly, her hands clenching unconsciously.

“It didn’t matter to him that I was…a friend, a guildmember. Or maybe it did. I don’t know. All I know is I lay there, unable to do anything, when he ran his sword straight through me.” She gestured towards her chest, near her heart.

“Savith…I’m sorry.” Talia said quietly. It was a horrid thing to go through. The paralytic poison must have saved her life, prevented her from bleeding out.

“He was the reason the guild wasn’t flourishing…Nocturnal had abandoned us. The only way to appease her had been to complete the triumvirate and restore the Skeleton Key to the Sepulcher…so that’s what I did.” She waved her hand in a careless gesture. “I was told never to touch it, otherwise it would corrupt me like it did Mercer, so when I saw you with it—,”

Talia nodded. “I promise you, this was given to me freely.”

Savith laughed mirthlessly. “But that’s the thing, right? Now I’m finding out you can actually safely use it without the threat of corruption. That means Nocturnal…” she gritted her teeth.

“I understand,” Talia said heavily, closing her eyes briefly. The daedra, the gods…they could see everything and intercede if they wished. But they don’t, in some sort of twisted punishment or lesson they wished to teach. She remembered the Night Mother telling everyone that Lucien was loyal to the end, and that she’d seen Bellamont’s treachery, but let it come to pass.

“Well,” Savith said hesitantly, and when Talia looked back over to her, she looked a little nervous. “Now would probably be a good time to be open about each other’s daedric artifacts?”

Talia opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by the sound of grating stone, and when they both turned to look, Nathaniel and Blackwall hovered by the doorway.

“Everything all right?” Nathaniel asked cautiously, eyes darting between her and Savith.

“Yes of course,” Savith broke into a smile that looked genuine, if Talia hadn’t known she was distraught a few moments earlier. The two mer shared a look and silently agreed to revisit the topic of daedric artifacts later.

“Where have you been?” Talia asked curiously.

“Took a look at what’s in the market, and got us some food.” Blackwall raised the tray he was holding to emphasize. It was heaped with different meats and what looked like some tubers.

“Thanks, Blackwall.” Savith approached and took some of bowls from the tray. “Here let me help you set up.”

As they sat at the table and started on their meal, Talia examined the questionable meat before taking a tentative bite. The wardens on the other hand, descended on the meal like a group of wolves. Nathaniel in particular gave a relieved sigh as he swallowed his food, as if a great burden had been taken off his shoulders. Talia gave him an amused look as he met her eye, and he had the grace to look a little embarrassed.

He cleared his throat. “So how did it go with Duran?”

“So, good news—I was wrong, Duran doesn’t need me to kill Bhelen.”

“Oh thank the Maker,” Blackwall mumbled into his meal.

Savith snorted in between bites. “He wants us to aid in their coup instead.”

Nathaniel choked. “He wants us to what?”

“Not you. Just me, and well, the Inquisition.” Talia reassured them.

Blackwall stared at her in consternation. “That doesn’t make me feel any better. What exactly does he need from you?”

Talia gave them a rundown of what they discussed with Duran and his council, including Duran’s Paragon-elect status, their plan to infiltrate the Shaperate to get his memory-slab, and Talia’s role.

“Paragon Duran? Really?” Nathaniel commented.  

“It surprised me too,” Savith agreed.

“And what do you get out of all of this?” he asked Talia.

The dunmer gave him a smug look. “An alliance with Orzammar.”

Blackwall gaped at her in surprise. Nathaniel seemed partially awed, but there was concern in his expression.

“This could backfire spectacularly. What if,” he pitched his voice lower. “What if Duran’s coup fails? The Inquisition is implicated.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Talia leaned back. “If Duran fails and he names me or the Inquisition as his co-conspirator, he won’t be able to provide any hard evidence for it.”

Nathaniel stared at her as if she were an idiot. “Hundreds of dwarves saw you here in the Thaig.”

“They saw someone who looked like me here,” Talia corrected. “Bhelen has been watching all the entrances into Orzammar and the Deep Roads. He knows the Inquisition wouldn’t have been able to sneak in.” Then she smirked. “Besides, there’s indisputable evidence that I’m currently in Orlais, on my way to a peace talk with the Chantry officials.”

“A body double will only go so far, Talia.”

“Thankfully, it’s not a body double—I really am in Orlais.”

Blackwall’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. “You mean that time travel shit you and Felix—,”

At Talia’s nod, he groaned and leaned back in his chair. “Maker wept. I’d forgotten about that.”

Nathaniel gave them confused glares. “Time travel shit?”

“Oh, that’s clever.” Savith said in an impressed tone. “If Bhelen wins and the Inquisition is accused, you can provide proof that you were in Orlais at that time. You can claim it was just someone looking to discredit the Inquisition.”

“Is someone going to explain this time travel shit?” Nathaniel asked in annoyance.

“Short explanation—I accidentally time traveled with someone when we were thrown into the Fade. We were thrown back by four to five months to the moment the Breach was temporarily stabilized.”

Nathaniel looked poleaxed for a moment before speaking. “What the fuck, Talia?”

“I know, right?” Blackwall said, and then blanched when he realized he was agreeing with Nathaniel.

Talia shrugged and chuckled. “Not sure if I can give you the long version, maybe when the timelines inevitably catch up.”

“All right,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Make sure we have a bottle of ale or something, I doubt I could get through that story sober.”

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll tell you over a drink, but you’re buying.”

“That oath you did with Duran,” Savith spoke up, and Talia focused back onto their topic. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Oath?” Blackwall asked.

“Magical oath. They shook hands and there was this glow; Talia said it’ll make sure Duran doesn’t forget about the alliance. I didn’t even know such a spell existed.”

“That’s because it doesn’t exist. It was a mild lightning spell, coupled with a magelight to make it more convincing.”

“You lied to Duran?” she asked disbelievingly.

Talia felt herself grin, and all of them stared at her unrestrained smile. “I can’t have anything written down that might implicate the Inquisition if Duran fails, this seemed like the next best thing. This way, every time Duran remembers the alliance, he’ll think it was the spell, and his mind will do the rest—ensuring he never forgets about it. It also implants some uncertainty—I told him that the spell wouldn’t do anything to harm him, but he’ll still feel uneasy at the prospect that it might.”

They all gaped at her in varying levels of shock.

“You clever girl.” Nathaniel sounded awed.

“I try.”

Savith laughed unrestrainedly. “All right, I have to admit, I didn’t see this one coming. You surprise me constantly, Talia.”

Blackwall looked a little uncomfortable at her having manipulated Duran, but she was thankfully spared from another moral lecture. Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “So what’s next for us?”

“We’ll leave the Thaig soon; but I promise I’ll handle everything with Duran, and you’ll have little no role in this entire business.” Talia reassured them. “The only thing I need from you…”

“Yes?” Savith asked.

“Hadrian is still with Bhelen; I can’t get him out, so I’ll leave him in your capable hands.” She directed her words at Savith, but Nathaniel was the one who replied.

“We’ll get him out of there.” He said with a nod.

“Thank you,” Talia said gratefully.

They moved to lighter topics as their meal continued, and both Nathaniel and Savith regaled them with stories of their shenanigans with the wardens. There was still a lot to do, but Talia allowed herself this brief respite to relax and listen to Nathaniel and Savith interact. The two seemed to be quite close, and Talia couldn’t help but miss Felix, who’d been her rock since the entire time travel business occurred. She hoped he was doing well, and he’d be able to hang on until she made her way back to Skyhold.

Somehow, she had to sneak the dwarves rebel group back into Orzammar, then gain access to the Shaperate, then steal Duran’s memory slab, then leave Orzammar undetected.

She sent a silent prayer to Nocturnal for luck—she’ll definitely need it in the coming days.

Chapter Text

It was strange to be so free with her magic once more, but Talia wasn’t complaining. She spent her time in the days leading up to their exit back to Orzammar with Duran, Brosca and the three other exiles, getting them used to the invisibility spell.

They had floundered about the first time she had cast it. Within a few seconds, she had heard a crashing sound and numerous curses echoing in the room. It was only amusing for a few moments until Brosca accidentally punched her in the stomach while she flailed around wildly.

Invisibility was a tricky thing. Normally, Talia would be able to see anyone she cast the spell on, giving her more control of the situation.  

The issue was that she needed to cast and maintain the spell upon each dwarf individually. An area-wide spell could have problems if say, a guard were to accidentally stumble upon the edge of the circle. With no physical barriers, anyone could pass in and out of the area, compromising them. Individual spells ensured that each dwarf could have a degree of freedom in moving around and positioning themselves, allowing for flexibility where needed.

Despite her best efforts, Talia found it impossible to maintain five invisibility spells simultaneously without depleting her magicka too quickly. It was doubly frustrating, as there were no other mages or really anyone with any basic idea of magic around her that she could commiserate with.

Savith had given her an apologetic look and a shrug. “I stopped using magic when I learned my Shouts, and even then, I really only knew one or two spells.” Blackwall and Nathaniel were equally useless, the former being nervous around magic, and the latter knowing absolutely nothing about it.

Talia had never missed Felix more than at that moment.

Over the next few days, she experimented and adjusted the parameters of the spell until she could find a good combination. It gave her more breathing room as it used far less magicka, but it also stopped giving her constant visibility of her targets. It was chaotic, but it was the only option Talia could see, even if Duran heavily disagreed.

“How are we supposed to coordinate if we can’t see each other?” he said. Duran, Brosca, and the two dunmer were poring over maps, figuring out their path from the Deep Road gates to Dust Town.

“If I can’t hold the spell, you’ll all get murdered as soon as we enter Orzammar,” Talia replied testily. “This would be far easier if I only had to bring you and Brosca.”

Duran shook his head. “The other three are essential, we don’t have enough people in Orzammar and there are too many moving parts to this plan.”

Savith looked at her thoughtfully. “How easily can you switch between spells?”

“Seamlessly.”

“What are you thinking, Savith?” Brosca frowned at her.

“Cast and hold the regular spell for a while until we’re able to cross the gates. While still visible to each other, the five dwarves would reposition themselves as quickly as possible,” she tapped on five points on the map. “And once they’re there, switch to the adjusted spell. It shouldn’t be a hindrance then.”

“That’s…not a bad idea.” Talia mulled it over. “But are they able to move quickly and quietly enough that they can get where they need to be in time?”

They all looked at Brosca in askance and she pursed her lips. “They can probably do it.”

“‘Probably’ isn’t good enough,” Duran argued.

“It’s the best we got, Duran. And don’t even get me started on you. You’re the biggest trouble here.”

“I can get there just fine!”

“Stomping around like a bronto in heat ain’t gonna ‘get you there fine’.”

Talia coughed in amusement and Savith didn’t bother to hide her laugh.

Duran gave them a dirty look. “I’ve been practicing with the others. I can sneak passably.”

“If my Paragon says so.” Brosca gave a mock bow.

“From there,” Talia interrupted before they could start another argument. “How do we get to Dust Town?”

“Every dwarf for themselves at that point. Can’t see each other so we just gotta meet up there.” Brosca shrugged. “I’ll stick by you and bring you there, you might have some trouble getting there alone.”

“The Wardens will head to the Commons,” Savith said. “Bhelen will keep a close eye on us, and it’s best if we weren’t found anywhere near any of you.”

Duran grunted in assent. “We’ll regroup in Dust Town, then agree on what to do for the Shaperate there.”

With the plan finalized, they continued their sessions with the other dwarves, doing their best to get the timing right. The inconsistency in their preparations was worrying—as they only managed to do them successfully around half the time. While most were adept at sneaking, the speed at which they had to move was tricky. At times they would either take too long to move silently, or their footfalls could be heard as they repositioned themselves.

Overall, it was with a stirring of unease in her gut that Talia exited the Aeducan Thaig and began the journey back with her dwarven companions. Savith and the other Wardens walked ahead of them, ready to alert them in case anyone from Orzammar appeared on the path.

After a day or so, they reached the final crossroads before the Orzammar gates, and Talia took a deep breath to center herself for her task to come. When all was ready, she clasped her hands together as if in prayer and drew heavily from her well of magicka. Slowly, she enveloped them in an invisibility spell one by one.

Talia could feel the strain on her mind. Even with her mastery, the distinct pull of five different spells was taxing. They were akin to threads pulled taut, and a lapse in her concentration could result in them snapping off at any moment.

She opened her eyes with effort and gestured for everyone to start making their way to the entrance. Before moving, she dipped her hand into her pocket and slipped on the Ring of Khajiiti.

Savith took the lead, with Nathaniel and Blackwall flanking her. Just behind the wardens was Duran. He was found to be the least skilled in sneaking, and they figured the warden’s armor could mask the sound of his steps. Talia and the rest of the other dwarves followed close behind in a single row, with Brosca standing right beside her.

The guards securing the entrance inside the Deep Roads immediately recognized Savith, and they greeted her as they made their approach.

“Warden-Commander.”

“Greetings. My Wardens and I require passage into Orzammar.”

“What’s your business here?”

“Warden business.” Savith’s voice was authoritative and brooked no argument.

“I—umm—King Bhelen has instructed that no one be allowed in.”

“Is that so?” Her tone turned dangerous, and Talia could see the guardsmen shift in nervousness. “Well, I believe that my status as not just the Warden Commander, but also Paragon Caradin’s Catalyst, affords me some level of respect?”

Talia had no clue what being a Paragon’s “Catalyst” entailed, but the two immediately started groveling.

“Of course, Warden Commander! O-our apologies!” The guards pushed the doors open for them, and hastily stepped aside.

“Much appreciated.” Savith nodded at them in thanks.

As soon as they passed through the threshold, Talia breathed a sigh of relief, only to suck it back in when she heard a familiar, oily voice.

“Guards! I thought I told you—ah…Savith Stormcrown.”

All of them stopped in their tracks just as they exited the gates. The path opened to a large, circular plaza that eventually branched off into different areas of the Commons.

Inconveniently blocking their way was Bhelen and his personal guards. It seemed like they were on a routine inspection, as they were crowding around near the Deep Roads entrance just as they exited.

Such was their luck.

“King Bhelen.” Savith inclined her head in greeting, while Nathaniel and Blackwall both saluted. “It is good to see you whole and hale.”

The dwarves were frozen where they stood, likely horrified at coming face to face with Bhelen so soon. There was barely any space to maneuver around, but Talia could feel her magicka start to wane. She tapped Duran on the shoulder and gestured for them to get going.

“And I am glad to see you as well, Savith. For a while there, I had thought Warden Howe here would never come back.”

As they spoke, the exiles started to weave around Bhelen and the guards as quickly as they could, with Talia slowly repositioning herself as well. There was a small blip in her magicka, like a stutter, and she realized she could no longer hold onto the spells as they were.

The dwarves were not yet in their agreed places, but Talia was forced to transition to the revised spell to maintain her magicka reserves. After a breath, each of the dwarves winked out of her sight, and the strain on her mind lessened considerably. She felt a hand on her elbow and deduced that it was Brosca grabbing hold of her so they wouldn’t lose each other in the confusion.

“You must have more faith in my men’s abilities,” Savith said lightly. “Speaking of, I believe one of them, Warden Threnhold, is staying with you?”

Bhelen’s response was drowned out by a sudden, loud crashing noise that made everyone jump. With a shout, the king brandished his greathammer, eyeing his surroundings suspiciously. His retinue of guards immediately formed a circle around him.

Talia turned to look at the source of the sound. A previously orderly row of halberds at a market stall was now in disarray, as if someone had fallen onto it. With great effort, she lifted a hand and allowed a small pulse of magic to flow from her, granting her a glimpse of who it was.

The veil lifted briefly, and she found Duran sprawled across the market floor, trying to keep still. His expression turned into that of panic as the ring of guards parted, and Bhelen slowly approached his position.

Behind the guards, who were all focused on their king, Savith gesticulated wildly at an unseen figure. After a moment, Talia’s magic snapped, and one of the dwarves suddenly melted back into view; he had moved too far away from her.

He closed his eyes briefly, as if steeling himself. Then to her surprise, he ducked out of his cover and charged at Bhelen, his steps echoing loudly. 

The commotion startled the guards into movement, and Bhelen jerked away from where Duran was to face the attacker. The exile barely put up a fight and was immediately impaled by a pikeman. A gurgling sound escaped him as he slid to the ground, hands clutching at the spear.

Bhelen examined his attacker for a moment before he scowled and pushed the pike deeper into him. The dwarf’s scream of pain was cut short as he brought his greathammer down upon his head with a meaty thud.

Without another word, the king turned around, quickly stalked back to where Duran was, and started swinging wildly.

Everyone froze at the sudden action. Talia could feel Brosca’s grip on her tighten painfully as she tensed. She only relaxed when Bhelen’s hammer collided with nothing but the wooden planks and strewn weapons. It seemed at least, that Duran had his wits enough about him to use the diversion and move away when he could.

Bhelen was breathing heavily, looking rather crazed as he whipped his head around, searching for something. After a few moments, he exhaled harshly and closed his eyes, eventually affecting an unbothered disposition. He turned back to the wardens, who were all staring at him in varying degrees of shock. Nathaniel was scowling as usual, though his eyes had widened at the display. He had a hand on Blackwall’s wrist, preventing the startled man from drawing his sword. Savith’s eyebrows were raised in a clear question of Bhelen’s sanity.

“How interesting that an attempt on my life should be made moments after you enter my kingdom,” Bhelen said with feigned nonchalance.

Savith gave him a sharp look. “I do not enjoy your implications, King Bhelen.”

“You don’t seem at all concerned for my safety, Warden Commander.”

“Your retinue of guards is more than enough to guarantee your safety. Had we intervened, we might have hindered more than helped.”

Talia twitched as her spell snapped three times in quick succession; it seemed Duran and the two other dwarves had already moved past her range and escaped. At least they had managed to make it out, though the situation remained dire.

Bhelen eyed Savith warily, and the guards began to move closer. Nathaniel and Blackwall both stiffened, hands coming up to their weapons at the aggression. To Talia’s surprise, instead of responding with authority, Savith sighed and gave Bhelen an imploring look.

“Bhelen, please be reasonable,” she said entreatingly, as if speaking with a close friend. “I have been in the Deep Roads for months. How do you presume I would have coordinated this attack?”

When he said nothing, she continued. “I gave you the crown, and we’ve formed a good working relationship over the years. What reason have I to taint that bond with betrayal?”

It was only because of her mastery of Illusion that Talia felt the coercion of Savith’s Thu’um. Her act was entirely believable, but the power of her Voice pushed into the small cracks of doubt and smoothened them out considerably. Her own mind batted away at the coercion, but she could see Bhelen’s shoulders falling and his stance relaxing.

With another sigh, Bhelen sheathed his weapon, and his guards followed suit. “It’s this damnable traitor in our midst. Until he’s dead, I must remain vigilant. Though it is good of you to remind me that I should not be making enemies of my own allies.”

Savith made a sympathetic noise. “I imagine it has been a trying number of days for you.”

“Months.” Bhelen shook his head. He gestured to his personal guards, and they fell back in formation around him. “I shall speak with you tomorrow, Savith. Wollum will pick you up at the inn.”

Finally, the king and his guards started walking away, letting Talia exhale in relief. Brosca’s hand released its vice grip on her arm as Bhelen left the vicinity.

“Savith—” Nathaniel started, but the dunmer raised a hand and he fell silent. Without another word, she turned and stalked away. The other two wardens shared a look before following after her.

Once they had gone, Talia shifted the invisibility spell to cover both herself and Brosca. With the adjustment, her companion melted back into her view. She took off the Ring of Khajiiti and the dwarf jumped as she reappeared.

Brosca looked incredibly frazzled, but she wordlessly pointed out one of the roads, and led the way out. After a few moments of silence, it seemed she could no longer contain her anger and started whispering furiously.

“That idiot almost got us all fucking killed! The fuck was all that practice for, then? Ancestors!”

Talia silently agreed but decided not to add kindling to the flames.

“How the fuck did he even get tangled in that market stall? He wasn’t supposed to be in that spot! What, did he grow fucking blind after the spell shift? Ugh!”

It was a miracle nobody spotted them after all the stomping around Brosca did, but it seemed to be the night cycle, and the roads were fairly deserted as they passed, save for a few guards. Just before they took a sharp turn down a distinctly less kempt alley, Brosca held a hand out to stop Talia in her tracks. She was about to ask what was wrong when soft whispers reached her ears.

A little past them, there was a dwarf standing in the darkness, speaking in hushed tones. They could have snuck past him easily with the invisibility still active, so Talia wasn’t sure why Brosca paused in her steps. Her eyes were narrowed, seemingly assessing him, and after a while she gestured for both of them to move closer and listen in.

The dwarf looked incredibly tense; he had one hand constantly hovering on the pommel of his weapon, while the other was clutching a crystal close to his lips. Talia’s eyes flicked to the thick fabric of his tunics and the clean stitching across the hems. It was clear this man did not belong anywhere near the poor district.

“…you certain you will be there on time? If I’m caught, Czibor will—”

“Czibor should no longer be a problem after, if you keep your word. You will be rewarded generously for your efforts.”

Talia frowned. There were two distinct voices, but there was only one dwarf in front of them. And he was clearly not the only one speaking.

There was a raspy sigh, and the rock in the dwarf’s hand glowed briefly. “All—all right, just be there tomorrow night. I will ensure the gates are open.”

With a jolt, Talia realized the other voice was coming from the crystal. Distance-communication, something she was surprised to see in Thedas.

The conversation seemed to end there, and the dwarf went off in a direction that was decidedly not deeper into Dust Town. As soon as his visage disappeared, Brosca turned to Talia, her face twisted in confusion.

“Are you all right?” Talia asked.

“I…wasn’t imagining that, right? He was talking to someone.”

Ahhh. Talia had forgotten how little anyone knew or understood anything about magic in Thedas. “I think the rock is enchanted to allow him to communicate with someone at a distance. Though based on their conversation, it sounds like he’s also in Orzammar. He mentioned him ‘being there’ tomorrow night…”

Talia trailed off as Brosca’s face progressively turned paler. “Brosca?” she asked warily.

“He mentioned Czibor.” When Talia did nothing more than squint in confusion, Brosca emphasized, “Lord Shaper Czibor.”

As the implications of that statement hit her, Talia cursed out loud.

“Fucking Bhelen,” Brosca echoed, running a hand through her hair.

“Let’s head to the meet up point, Duran will want to know—”

“We got to go to the Shaperate, now.”

Talia turned to Brosca incredulously. “We’re both exhausted—I won’t be able to hold this invisibility spell up much longer, much less an entire trip throughout the Shaperate. Besides, everyone is expecting us, we need to debrief and come up with a plan.”

“We don’t have a choice!” Brosca hissed. “Bhelen’s planning to get into the Shaperate tomorrow night so it can’t be tomorrow. That means we need to do it today, and we only have a few hours until morning bell. We don’t have time to go back to Duran and the team and talk. We need to move.”

Talia could see her point, but she was close to depleting her magicka fully. They didn’t have a proper infiltration plan for the Shaperate yet in place, but she knew they needed her for another bout of invisibility. And it was extremely risky for her to just go with Brosca, especially in her state—it increased the chances of her making a mistake and revealing herself to someone in the city.

“We need to at least speak with Duran—” she tried one more time, but Brosca cut her off.

“I’m going to the Shaperate, and since I know you don’t know the way to base, you have to come with me.”

A surge of anger rose within Talia, not just because of this foolishness, but because she realized Brosca was right. Though she had looked at and studied the map, Talia found Orzammar confusing to navigate, and she was not confident in her ability to get to the meet up point. She was also out of options due to her lack of magic—she did not have enough magicka to reliably cast a coercion spell on Brosca, and she doubted any other minor spells in her repertoire would help.

It was a tempting idea to simply abandon her and head to where the Wardens were, but Talia actually wanted Duran to succeed; the alliance depended on it.

With no other choice, Talia sighed and grudgingly agreed. “Fine.”

There was a small hint of relief on Brosca’s face, though she tried to hide it behind her bravado. Thankfully, she was gracious in her victory and didn’t decide to test Talia’s patience by rubbing it in her face.

She still seethed silently the entire way, though.

The Shaperate turned out to be a massive archive in the Diamond Quarters, easily distinguishable from all the other grand structures due to the impressively large dwarven figure carved atop its entrance. It was quite near the Royal Palace, though surprisingly left unguarded. It seemed that dwarves had full confidence in the structure and integrity of their machinery.

And why wouldn’t they? If she didn’t have the Skeleton Key, she would have no idea how to open the gate either, despite her proficiency in lockpicking. The double doors were sealed with incredibly thick stone, Talia pressed one of her ears against it and rapped on it lightly to test. There was no reverberation to be heard, even when she gradually knocked on it more loudly.

“Well, can you open it or not?” Brosca’s brusque voice came from behind her.

Talia was exhausted and if the dwarf did not back off, she wouldn’t be responsible for what she did next. “Step back.”

It was always with an equal feeling of dread and thrill that Talia wielded the Skeleton Key. As was customary, she sent a small prayer of thanks and guidance to Nocturnal, and drew the artifact from her pocket. She could feel the daedric magic emanating from it as she glided it up through the crevice of the stone doors. There were sounds of gears and cranks shifting, and after a moment, the doors slowly opened.

Loudly.

The ground shook as the doors moved, the great slabs of stone grinding against it. Talia spread out her arms for balance. Once the door opened slightly, she readied herself to squeeze through and checked on Brosca to see if she was following. The dwarf was staring wide-eyed at the door, frozen in shock like an imbecile—it seemed she hadn’t believed Talia could truly open it until she personally witnessed it.

All the noise was summoning guards from the Royal Palace. From across the plaza, Talia could hear the clanking of armor and shouts of alarm. There was also commotion from the other side, likely the Shapers worrying about the mechanism.

Talia’s magicka pool was close to empty, and the invisibility threatened to drop at any moment. So she grabbed ahold of the gaping fool and pulled her into the building, shouldering through the dwarves gathering by the door as quickly as she could. At the exact moment her magic snapped, she managed to push both of them into a shadowy alcove.

The invisibility spell dropped off them both, and Talia fumbled for the Ring of Khajiiti. It would be utterly disastrous if anyone caught sight of her in the Shaperate. At worst, it would cast suspicion on her and the Inquisition, at best, Savith would take the blame, which was also not ideal.

Once she managed to get the ring on, and the chameleon charm activated, she rounded on Brosca.

“If you’re trying to get yourself killed, do me a favor and don’t drag me into your nonsense,” she hissed viciously.

The dwarf bristled but immediately deflated. “Yeah, sorry I wasn’t thinking.”

Talia nodded stiffly, still miffed. “Where is this ‘memory slab’? This place will be swarming with guards and Shapers soon.”

“I have a general idea, based on Duran’s speculations. But they may be keeping it out of sight.”

“Speculations?” Talia asked scathingly. Their chances of success were slowly dwindling.

“Come on,” Brosca said in lieu of answering her question.

Sneaking around in shadows felt far too slow. In her impatience, Talia ended up knocking out an unsuspecting Shaper and giving Brosca their robes, just so she could walk around a bit more unhindered.

They made their way to the Royal section, and started scouring the walls, shelves and tables around for any mention of Duran’s Paragon nomination. Any other time, Talia would admire her surroundings: the glowing text on the walls detailing the family trees of the nobility and the Paragons they had stemmed from, the numerous different artifacts carefully displayed behind glass boxes, and the rows of books arranged in neat, carefully labelled shelves. The amount of knowledge stored in the Shaperate was immense, and it was a shame she wouldn’t have much chance to study it.

The wall Talia was inspecting told the tale of Bhelen’s ascension to the throne. It gave her more context to the claim Savith made earlier about being Paragon Caridin’s “Catalyst”. When she had returned from the Deep Roads, she had presented a crown forged by the Paragon. In the text, it described how she had made it clear that Caridin had left the decision up to her, and thus by dwarven law, she had become his “Catalyst”, or the person that enacted the final will of a Paragon.

No wonder Duran had acted so frostily towards Savith. When Talia had first heard about her putting Bhelen on the throne, she assumed her kin merely supported the dwarf and worked in the background to get him there. But if it had been all up to her, what could have compelled her to choose Bhelen? How horrible had this “Harrowmont” been in comparison? There was barely any explanation except to say he was a traitor.

Large sections in House Aeducan’s wall had been redacted or clearly overwritten, and Talia remembered that once a dwarf was exiled or had done something worthy of it, they could be struck from the record. The glowing text mentioned Trian Aeducan, his elder brother, but Duran’s name was nowhere to be found.

“Talia?” She heard Brosca whisper, seeking her out.

“I’m still here,” she replied quietly. Brosca couldn’t see her, so she tapped her foot on the ground twice to indicate where she was.

“The slab isn’t here, I checked everything I could.” The dwarf was facing in her general direction, so Talia could see her expression twist into frustration. “Don’t know where else it could be.”

Talia decided not to voice her displeasure and instead focused on the problem at hand. “Duran’s been struck from the records in this area, I assume due to his exile.”

“Yeah, should have realized they wouldn’t put it here. He’s not officially part of House Aeducan anymore.”

“His Paragon-elect status is due to clearing and recovering the Aeducan Thaig, so that it can be annexed back to Orzammar, right?” At Brosca’s nod, she continued. “Could it be in the artifacts section? Perhaps the lost Thaigs or something about Paragon Aeducan?”

Brosca lit up at the suggestion. “Paragon Aeducan has a separate section from his House. It’s where they put all artifacts related to him. It shouldn’t be far from House Aeducan’s wall.”

Each Paragon apparently had an individual room dedicated to them and their deeds. They found Aeducan’s close by, just as Brosca predicted. The chamber was vast; every inch of the towering walls was covered in lyrium writings, detailing his heroic deeds during the First Blight. There were rows upon rows of shelves crammed full of various books and stone tablets etched with further stories. There were numerous artifacts displayed belonging to him, including the shield that had been previously mentioned by Duran.

Talia was casting her eyes around when she spotted it. On one of the tables at the far end, propped upon a pedestal, there lay an unassuming block of carved stone. She squinted down at it, unable to make out the runes.

“Brosca?”

“Yeah?” The dwarf looked up from where she was inspecting a pile of stone on the other side of the room. “Make some noise, will you? I can’t see you.”

With Talia’s tapping as a guide, Brosca managed to make her way over to her. She did a double take at the tablet. Almost reverently, she plucked it from its stand and held it closer to her eyes.

“Well?” Talia asked when she said nothing.

She mumbled out a phrase in what Talia assumed was the dwarven language before she answered. “Yes, by the Stone, we actually found it! We just need to get it back to—”

Whatever she was saying was cut off as the door to Aeducan’s Shaperate room swung open. A dwarf looked over at them—or rather at Brosca—startled. “What are you doing here? We’ve all been called to—,” he stopped and then gave her a suspicious onceover. His eyes focused on Brosca’s face, and he gasped.

“Casteless filth!” he shouted suddenly. Brosca’s hand flew up to her cheek with a hissed curse.

Before Talia knew what was happening, Brosca had already thrown a book at the Shaper, knocking him to the ground. While he lay there dazed, she beat a hasty retreat, practically flying out the door and into the maze-like halls. Talia followed after her as quickly as she could. Behind them, she could hear the Shaper call out for help. Alarm bells started ringing, discordantly echoing throughout the archive.

Brosca was quick on her feet, managing to pass through the guards before they could even react. She dodged out of the way as one enterprising dwarf tried to tackle her, making him crash into the shelves behind her.

Talia nimbly avoided everyone, weaving through the Shapers that Brosca had either bowled over or pushed aside in her mad dash to the exit. There was a lot of shouting and she saw that ahead, Brosca had managed to leave through the gates. As she hastened towards her, she heard the telltale sound of grinding stone and creaking gears. Near the entrance, she spied a panicked Shaper holding down the mechanism to shut the gates close.

Throwing caution to the wind, Talia started running faster, her steps echoing loudly and carelessly across the floor. She managed to slide through the gap just before it closed, the double-doors barely missing her hair as they slid shut. Scarcely managing to catch her breath, she lay on the stone, briefly stunned at the wild turn of events.

Raised voices eventually shook her out of her reverie. She stood quickly, vaguely aware of her fatigue and lightheadedness. Just past the steps down the Shaperate, Brosca stood defiantly, the hand holding Duran’s memory slab thrust behind her back. Dozens of guards stood before her, swords pointed in her direction.

“Unhand your weapon and come with us quietly!” one guard boomed, brandishing his halberd.

Brosca bared her teeth at them. “Or what? You’ll tickle me with your unimpressive stick?”

“Or risk the pain of death!”

Casting any spells at this point could potentially give Talia a severe case of magicka exhaustion, but as one guard moved to grab Brosca’s arm, she acted on instinct. There was barely enough energy in her, but she managed to cast an area-wide confusion spell. Talia didn’t have it in her to cast it more precisely, and along with the guards, Brosca was also caught in its thrall.

The pain came immediately—it felt as if there were sharp pins being thrust into her skull. Pushing past the agony, Talia sprinted down the steps and snatched the memory slab from Brosca. The dwarf barely moved, only giving her hand a bemused look. If she had more time, more energy, she would have found it laughably easy to escape with the dwarf. But as she was now, injured, exhausted, and on the brink of passing out, she gave Brosca’s dazed expression a grim frown, before abandoning her to the guards.

Her next moments were a haze of pain. Muscles in her body kept twitching, as if lightning were being coursed through them intermittently. Her head was pounding, keeping beat with her steps as she walked across Orzammar.

She wasn’t exactly sure how, but she managed to get to the Wardens’ room in the Inn. She caught herself listing from side to side, so she steadied herself up on the doorjamb, successfully convincing her numb hand to knock on the door. The last thing she saw was Nathaniel’s sour expression turning into surprise as she fell forward, succumbing to the void.

Chapter Text

Talia drifted in and out of consciousness, her body mired by a constant haze of pain. There were voices talking over her, but she could only make out fragments of their conversation. The pounding in her head was unbearable, and it was making it difficult to make sense of what they were saying.

“—happened? She was—”

“—her magicka. Not sure—”

“—Elfroot?”

“—no help—I think garlic—”

“—feeding her raw garlic?”

“—the soup, you idiot—”

“—alia, Talia.”

With great effort, Talia cracked an eye open and blinked back the blur. As her vision focused, she saw Savith hovering over her, a profound look of concern on her face.

“Talia, I think you have magicka exhaustion.”

You don’t say? Talia tried to respond but her tongue felt heavy in her mouth.

“We need to sit you up and get you to down some soup. It has a lot of garlic in it, which is the only magicka regen ingredient I know that exists in Thedas. Though I don’t know if it’s the same thing.”

Garlic was good, Talia thought through her foggy mind. It wouldn’t restore her magicka pool or her reserves, but it would help counteract the worst of the magicka exhaustion.

At her next blink, she found Savith sitting in front of her, carrying a bowl. On either side of her, Nathaniel and Blackwall had their arms braced along her back, letting her lean against them as they pushed her up.

Too tired to feel embarrassed, Talia simply accepted their help and allowed Savith to spoon some of the soup into her mouth. Her headache and spasms were immediately swept away after swallowing the warm broth, and Talia could only close her eyes briefly and sigh in relief.

“Feeling better?” Savith asked.

“Much. Thank you.” As strength slowly returned to her limbs, Talia gingerly took the bowl from Savith, who surrendered it to her gently. At her nod to the two Wardens, they slid their arms from her back and allowed her to sit up by herself. “Good thinking on the garlic; I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

“I don’t think you could do much thinking in the state you were in,” Nathaniel grunted.

“You were in a really bad way, Talia. What happened?”

Talia haltingly explained the situation to the three as she finished her soup. The grimness in their expressions were mirrored by her own. When she spoke of Brosca’s capture, Savith let out a groan of annoyance.

“So first, Duran almost gets us caught by falling on a damned weapon rack, and then Brosca decides to just fuck off and go to the Shaperate without any plan?”

“My thoughts, exactly. I was already dangerously low on magicka due to the invisibility spells; the entire thing was inadvisable,” Talia said tiredly. The garlic-infused soup definitely helped, but she could still feel weariness permeating down to her bones. “I hadn’t counted on getting magicka exhaustion; I won’t be able to use any magic at least for the next two or three days.”

“Three days? That long?” Nathaniel asked.

Talia grimaced. “I don’t have any potions or ingredients that could really mitigate the problem. My reserves need to recover on their own; my overuse damaged my body’s ability to regenerate it.”

She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a case of exhaustion as severe as this one was. As a master in her own right, Talia always knew the limits of her body and her magic, and she always ensured she was well-stocked with various potions to aid recovery. But these were extenuating circumstances.

“So, what do we do about that? We can’t leave Brosca in prison, can we? Bhelen’s going to execute her.” Blackwall said.

Talia exhaled harshly. “Well, first, I need to go to the meeting location and get the slab to Duran. As for Brosca,” she bit back the words ‘That’s not my problem’, “I feel like that’s something Duran and his people need to work out themselves.”

“You can’t seriously be thinking of meeting Duran in the state you’re in?” Nathaniel asked incredulously. “You were barely functional an hour ago.”

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t have to. But the three of you can’t be seen anywhere near that area, you’ll arouse suspicion.”

“And you won’t?”

“I have my ring to obscure me at the very least. I won’t have my magic to help me, but I do have some skill in sneaking.”

“‘Some’, she says.” Savith snorted. “Well, if you’re adamant about it, let me at least draw you a map so you don’t get lost. I didn’t think you’d need one given that Brosca was supposed to bring you there, but apparently it was too much to ask them to be sensible.”

“I shouldn’t have allowed myself to rely on them.” Talia’s lips thinned in displeasure. “It’s not a mistake that will happen again.”

Both Nathaniel and Blackwall looked on in disapproval as Talia prepared to leave. Her limbs were at the very least, no longer wobbly, but she still felt rather out of breath, and there was an edge of fatigue in her every move.

At this point, the only thing that fueled her was spite and indignation.

Armed with the scribbled map from Savith, Talia managed to make her way to Duran’s hideout. The Ring of Khajiiti enveloped her in a robust chameleon spell, but she stuck to the shadowy areas of the dwarven halls, and avoided all potential run-ins with anyone milling about.

When she finally came upon the unassuming door and knocked, a frail old woman opened it cautiously. She frowned at thin air, but did not shut the door; at least it seemed Duran had given warning that they’d be arriving invisibly.

“Parthas-gat-kallak.” Peace through war. The words were clumsy on Talia’s tongue, but the dwarf gave a jerky nod, and opened the door wider for her to enter.

The two rogues who had accompanied Duran were at the foyer, likely to verify the identity of whomever entered. As the door was closed and locked behind them, Talia removed her ring. Their shoulders all lowered, but they looked about in confusion when they noticed she was alone.

“Where’s Brosca?”

Talia grimaced. “She was captured. I need to speak with King Duran immediately.”

When they tensed and didn’t move, Talia slowly plucked the slab out of her pocket. Everyone grew wide-eyed as she flashed it in their sights.

“Is that—?” one began breathlessly.

“As I said, I need to speak to King Duran, urgently.”

The two scrambled to salute. “Right this way, Herald.”

She was guided through a labyrinth of tunnels she would have no hope of navigating on her own. They eventually reached a ladder that led up to a trapdoor. When they reached the top, they performed a pattern of knocks, and someone opened it from above.

As Talia climbed out, she finally found herself face to face with Duran.

“Where the hell have you b—” Duran cut himself off when he realized no one else climbed after her. “Where’s Natia?”

“Captured,” Talia said in clipped tones. “She had the brilliant idea of storming into the Shaperate with no plan and no back up.”

Duran raised a hand to cover his mouth as he muttered a few choice curses.

“A promise is a promise, though.” She took the glowing slab out of her pocket and handed it over to Duran, who held it in his hands carefully. “I managed to abscond with it before leaving the Shaperate.”

“But not Natia?” There was a thinly veiled accusation in Duran’s voice.

“I am not her keeper, King Duran.” Talia’s patience was growing thin. “Brosca insisted on this course of action, and despite the lack of everything, I still retrieved your precious slab.”

“This should have been a momentous victory.” Duran closed his eyes as if in pain. He took a deep breath, then met Talia’s eyes seriously. “You need to retrieve her.”

“I beg your pardon?” Her tone turned dangerous.

“Natia, you need to break her out of there.”

“Do I look like I’m in any condition to try and rescue anyone? I’ve upheld my end of the bargain, at great injury to myself, I feel I should add.”

“Injury?”

“Magic exhaustion. Savith managed to heal me a little, but its effects are severe. I am unable to use any magic for the time being.”

Duran was silent for a long while before he spoke, and his next words were not anything she ever expected. “Natia…is carrying my heir.”

Talia looked back at Duran in disbelief.

“There is no romance between us, it is nothing like that.” Duran seemed to have misread her expression. “I’ve always wanted a child, but had no,” he gestured at the empty air. “No inclinations. Natia offered to carry the child as a favor to me; she is the only one I trusted enough not to use it against me.”

Talia waved away his explanations irritably. “I do not care about the circumstances of the child’s…conception. What I care about are the implications of this. You knew about it and let her have an active role in this coup? You could lose both your potential heir and your strongest advisor in one swift blow.”

“There’s no letting Natia do anything; she does what she wants. And Bhelen won’t kill her. Not immediately anyway.”

“Because?” There was an uneasy expression on Duran’s face that made Talia ask cautiously, “You’re not about to tell me he’s in love with her?”

“What? By the Stone, no.” Duran wiped a hand down his face and laughed helplessly. “No. But her sister, Rica, is his current mistress, and the mother of his two children. He will use Rica against her in whatever way possible, and vice versa.”

Talia pinched her brow in an attempt to stave off the oncoming headache. “And if he leaves her alive, then Bhelen will eventually discover she’s pregnant; heirs are the best bargaining chips one can have.”

“So you understand the position it puts us in?”

“That you’ve put yourself in, yes,” she couldn’t help but say pointedly. “I’m not sure how you expect me to save her, King Duran. I’m injured, I can’t use my magic, and I can’t be seen. And even if I do get her out, how am I going to bring her to you?”

“She just needs to be out and away from Bhelen’s clutches.” He paused before adding more gravely, “Even if that means taking her away from Orzammar.”

Talia opened her mouth to refuse him once again, but Duran cut her off.

“Please, Herald. I am not above begging—the life of my child, and the life of my closest friend are at stake.”

Sighing, she shook her head. “I cannot guarantee anything. But,” she raised a hand to forestall his protests. “I will survey the prison and see what I can do.”

“I suppose that is all I can ask. Thank you, Herald.”

The cells were located near the guard barracks in the Diamond Quarters. Talia had no frame of reference for time, but it was likely the day cycle, or something close to it.  There were more dwarves out and about the streets, setting up their shops and walking around; it made staying out of sight far more complicated than she’d like.

A number of guards were posted at the entrance and Talia took her chance to slip into the gates when they were looking the other way. She made her way down the steps silently, and as she moved deeper into the building, she could hear voices echoing across the halls. Talia followed them until she came upon a more expansive room holding a singular cell.

There was a red-haired female dwarf standing in front of the jail cell. She had a cloak on, barely hiding the fine clothing underneath. Her back was to the entryway, and she spoke with the prisoner in soft, sad tones. As Talia shifted her position, she finally caught a glimpse of her quarry, who looked upset and exasperated at the redhead.

Brosca had been roughed up by the guards; she had a bruise on her cheek, and it was clear she was favoring her left side. It didn’t stop her from puffing up and arguing with the older woman in front of her.

“—why can’t you see, Rica? Bhelen is a poison upon Orzammar.”

“He is the rightful King, and the father of my children,” Rica said quietly.

Brosca hissed. “He became King by killing his brother and framing the other for it.”

“You don’t know that,” Rica insisted. “Duran’s an exile.”

“I’m an exile. Duran’s innocent, and he’s a Paragon-elect. I’ve seen his accomplishments with my own eyes.”

“Bhelen would never—”

“He would and he has, Rica!”

“And what would you have me do hmm?” Rica sounded agitated. “I specifically targeted him so we could all live a better life, and he has provided for me and my family—our family more generously than I ever thought he would.”

“Rica…”

“I had to survive. Mother was no help, and you had gotten yourself exiled. Bhelen stood by me when no one else did.”

“He stood by his children, which he had to do by law!”

“And I’ll stand by him until the end, Natia!”

The silence that followed that proclamation was heavy. Rica looked on the verge of tears, and Brosca was taking deep breaths to calm herself.

“I will…appeal to my King for mercy.”

“Rica…” Brosca’s voice was thick with emotion.

“I have to go. I love you, Natia.”

“I…I love you too, Rica.”

Talia waited until she could no longer hear Rica’s sobs bouncing across stone, before she took off her ring and approached Brosca.

As the dunmer melted back into view, Brosca jumped, clearly biting back a shout of surprise.

“Talia! What are you doing here?”

“What do you think?” Talia said sourly. “Duran sent me after you.”

Brosca raised her palms placatingly. “Look, I know you’re pissed—”

“Quite the understatement.”

“But the slab, did Bhelen get it? I didn’t have it in my—,”

“I took it from you before I left the Shaperate.” Talia said. “It’s with Duran now.”

The relief was clear in Brosca’s face. “Thank the Ancestors.”

“He has requested that I get you out of this cell, so if you just step back I’ll—”

“Wait, don’t!”

“What is it now?”

“You can’t,” Brosca said urgently. “If I disappear right after Rica just left, Bhelen might think she had something to do with it.”

“I don’t—,” care what happens to Rica, Talia bit back the vicious words. She had to focus on persuading Brosca to leave. There was no magic she could lean on at this time, and in her condition, she could not brute force her way out of there while also carrying an unconscious dwarf.

“So, what do you propose?” she pivoted. “Are you telling me you have another ill-thought plan of getting out of here that will harm not only me but jeopardize everything Duran has fought for?”

Brosca’s expression hardened. “I did what I had to do and that’s all that matters. Duran’s slab is with him and away from Bhelen. That’s enough.”

“You have no idea of the political ramifications of having you and Duran’s unborn heir in Bhelen’s grasp. You would be an unwitting pawn in his plans. You’ve seen the lengths he’s willing to go to keep himself in power. And you’re deluding yourself into thinking that you can stay here?”

“He told you?” Brosca said in surprise.

Talia took a deep breath to calm the rage thrumming in her veins. “Duran said he just needs you to be away from Bhelen—that includes leaving Orzammar for good.”

“I won’t abandon Duran in his time of need!”

“You’re already doing that by electing to stay in this cell.” Talia shot back, punctuating her sentence with a fist to the metal bars. “If you leave, at least Duran can carry on his crusade without having to worry about what Bhelen is and isn’t doing to you and his child.”

Brosca clenched her jaw, but didn’t say anything in response. Talia could see that her words were affecting her. Indecision was reflected in her eyes as she glared at her, then at the ground. The dunmer let her stew in silence, another tirade would only push her to the opposite direction purely out of spite.

After a few moments, she heard Brosca take in a shuddering breath. “All right. I’ll come.”

Talia closed her eyes briefly in relief. “Good. Take a step back, I’ll open the gate.”

She only just managed to take hold of the Skeleton Key when she heard the clanking of armor and heavy footsteps heading towards their direction. Cursing her luck, Talia ducked into a shadowy alcove and put on the Ring of Khajiti, just in time for a regiment of guards to appear at the chamber entrance.

They ordered Brosca out of her cell at swordpoint, bound her hands, and led her off. With no other choice but to follow, Talia dogged their steps. There was no opening she could exploit, no distraction she could create that could free Brosca at this point. It seemed to be a lost cause, and in the cold, calculus of her mind, she began to consider the possibility of killing Brosca instead.

If she made it look as if Bhelen had her killed, it might just solve some of the problems they were currently facing. Bhelen would lose the upperhand, Rica might turn on her husband, and Duran, through his inconsolable grief, would ensure he ripped the kingdom from his brother.

The idea seemed sound, though Talia was aware that she was running on fumes, and she was compromised by her exhaustion and general exasperation at the dwarves.

The guards marched Brosca into the throne room, and by luck or coincidence, he was still in the middle of his audience with the Wardens.

Everyone turned to them as they entered.

Savith muttered something under her breath, and her eyes flickered around the room for a moment before landing on Talia hidden in a dark corner. Though her expression didn’t change, her gaze seemed to sharpen with intent. Nathaniel had a perpetual scowl on his face, though his eyes darkened as he saw the bound dwarf. Hadrian was standing safely behind Blackwall, looking spooked and nervous, but otherwise unharmed; it seemed Savith managed to retrieve him without problem.

Bhelen, intriguingly, appeared to be livid.

“Who authorized this?” he all but shouted. “I said I was not to be disturbed while I was speaking with the Wardens.”

“Please forgive us, my King,” a familiar voice echoed from one of the guards, and when Talia took her time to observe him, she realized it was one of Duran’s men. “We had thought—”

“Clearly, you didn’t.”

Talia watched the exchange with great interest. It seemed Duran’s inside man had brought Brosca to the throne room on purpose while the Wardens were currently in session. But why?

“And who is this?” Savith asked.

“A prisoner—”

“An exile from the Deep Roads, Warden Commander,” the guard responded out of turn. Bhelen paused, and Talia could see the cogs in his head turning.

“Seweryn,” he addressed his Guard Captain. “Escort this illustrious guard to our cells. I wish to question him later.”

“Sir!” It was telling that Duran’s man did not protest his innocence, and simply allowed himself to be led away.

Before Bhelen could say anything further, Savith interrupted. “What was this Natia Brosca exiled for?”

Once again, Talia could feel her Voice pressing against her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was an unconscious reflection of what Savith needed, or if she was projecting it directly, but she couldn’t deny its effectiveness.

Bhelen looked disgruntled. “She is a casteless dwarf who impersonated someone from the warrior caste in a Proving Tournament. She was imprisoned but managed to escape and kill one of our informants, and she was exiled after.”

“Did she win? I imagine that might have caused a stir during the Proving match.” There was a nonchalance to Savith’s question.

“Yes,” Bhelen ground out, then he blinked, seeming confused.

“The way you describe her,” Savith said thoughtfully, “she sounds tenacious, strong, and highly capable.”

Bhelen, smart man that he was, immediately caught on. “You wouldn’t d—.”

There was a glint in Savith’s eye as she announced, “I invoke the Right of Conscription on Natia Brosca.”

That was certainly one way to solve the problem.

“You will not have her!” The dwarven king was all but foaming at the mouth. “You are bound by the laws of Orzammar and I am its King!”

The guards unsheathed their halberds and brandished it in the Warden’s direction. She gazed back at Bhelen dispassionately, as if he were barely worthy of her time.

“Do recall that it was I,” she emphasized, “who put you on the throne, King Bhelen, with the power vested in me by Paragon Caridin. And while I respect you as the King of Orzammar, I am a Grey Warden…and I am beholden to no king.” She turned to the guard holding Brosca and made a beckoning gesture. The guard looked hesitantly between the king and the warden, clearly torn.

“My conscript. Now.”

Talia couldn’t help but be impressed by her daring. The guard slowly released his hold on Brosca. She glanced about her uncertainly, but made her way over to their group with quick steps. Rica, who was standing on one side, had a hand over her mouth, watching the proceedings in shock.

“You will never again be able to step foot on Orzammar stone—,”

Savith’s eyes were filled with disdain. “The Grey Warden treaties predate you, King Bhelen. And one day, it will outlive you as well.” She tipped her head. “I shall exit your kingdom for now and give you time to come to terms with my decision. As always, I thank you for your hospitality.”

It seemed Bhelen, for all his posturing, could not find it in himself to move against Savith. Possibly, he could sense the ancient power within her. Her Thu’um filled the empty spaces of the room, magnifying her presence. In the moment, she seemed larger than life itself, and everyone was looking at her either with fear or awe.

Savith bowed, and sharply turned on her heels and strode away confidently. The rest of the wardens, including Brosca and Hadrian gave quick bows and hurried after her. Bhelen did not move to send his guards after them, but the murderous glint in his eyes promised some sort of retribution later down the line.

Their exit out of Orzammar was unimpeded, with guards jumping out of their way either out of fear or reverence towards Savith. It was clear that her power was respected; her reputation both as the Hero of Ferelden, and the Paragon’s Catalyst seemed to accord her with a unique position in Orzammar’s hierarchy.

Though Savith looked purposeful in her steps, Talia knew that she was simply hurrying to get all of them out of the kingdom, and they didn’t speak or stop until they arrived at the stables. As soon as they were out of Orzammar, the haughty aura around Savith melted away, and within the space of a blink, she was back to her less imposing self.

“Huh.” She looked over at the horses, just the three that they had brought from Skyhold. Nathaniel was informed that the horse he had ridden had passed a few days ago, though he gave the guards a skeptical glance when they said so. “Looks like we all have to share.”

Savith moved towards Talia’s horse, and Blackwall, alarmed, made an aborted gesture to stop her. The proud steed was immediately on edge and attempted to bite her hand.

“Whoa, there.”

“Sorry I uh, forgot to say. That’s…the Herald’s steed, Hieronymus. He doesn’t like anyone else riding him, but we uh, brought him along to carry our packs.” Hadrian said nervously.

“She named her horse ‘Hieronymus’?” The judgment in Nathaniel’s tone was apparent. At his side, Brosca let out a snort.

Savith glanced in Talia’s direction with a raised eyebrow and though she was under the chameleon spell, she gave her a shrug.

“Well then,” Savith said with a jovial tone, thumping Nathaniel on the back. “Good luck with the demon horse, Nate. Hadrian, I’m riding with you. Brosca, with Blackwall.”

Blackwall gave them both an uncertain glance but was quick to comply, helping Brosca up his own mount.

“I despise you.” Nathaniel scowled at her as she passed him. In turn, she gave him a winning smile.

Taking pity on the Warden, Talia approached Hieronymus quietly from the side. Her presence seemed to soothe the finnicky beast and as she continued to pat his head, he calmed more quickly. When Nathaniel stepped up next to him, the man appeared to radiate an aura of calm, though his tightly drawn lips betrayed his caution. He and Hieronymus seemed to eye each other for a long time before the horse finally bowed its head.

Nathaniel squinted in suspicion, but when Hieronymus remained subdued, he climbed the horse in one swift move. Thankfully, the Orzammar guards no longer watched them so closely as they started their preparations to leave, and they went unnoticed as Talia seated herself behind the warden. Hieronymus was a strong enough steed to carry them both, and seemed not to notice the excess weight.

Blackwall led their way back to Skyhold, and over the wind, Talia could hear him and Brosca speaking.

“My lady Brosca—,”

“Who the fuck are you calling a lady?”

“You can hurt your eyes if you stare at the sun a little too long.”

“It looks like it can swallow me whole.”

Talia hadn’t considered the fact that Brosca had never been outside Orzammar or the Deep Roads her entire life. The sky must be a wonder to her. Talia looked above at the blue canopy and the delicate formation of clouds, and she couldn’t help the sigh that passed her lips.

“You all right?” Nathaniel asked.

“Just relieved to be out of there,” Talia said honestly.

“You should get some rest, I think you’ve earned it.” There was an undercurrent of warmth in Nathaniel’s tone that made Talia raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? How do I know you won’t throw me in a ditch the moment my guard is down?” she asked wryly.

“Savith’s gotten herself attached to you, so I doubt I’ll be rid of you anytime soon.” He matched her tone. “Just make sure you strap yourself in and hold on, so I don’t throw you off your own horse. You know, accidentally.”

Talia huffed in amusement. “Hieronymus is a loyal beast, he would never.” But seeing the wisdom in his words, she tightened the straps and buckled herself in. She slid her arms around Nathaniel’s middle and hesitantly pressed her cheek against his back. It would only be for a moment, she argued as she allowed herself to shut her eyes.

“What in the world possessed you to name this beast Hieronymus?”

Talia suppressed a yawn. “He reminded me of someone I knew. Proud and prickly. He didn’t get along with a lot of people.”

“But he liked you?” Nathaniel guessed.

“I suppose you could say that.” The memory of her very ill-advised liaison with the guard captain made her nostalgic.

“Hm. Good taste.”

Talia had already started drifting off when her mind suddenly caught Nathaniel’s words, and she jerked in surprise. Her sudden action startled Hieronymus, spurring him to a faster gallop, and causing Talia to flail for a moment before holding on more tightly.

Nathaniel said nothing, but she could feel his back shaking with silent laughter. Perhaps it was the sheer relief of leaving Orzammar alive, or the high of a successful mission, but Talia found herself biting back a small smile herself.

Chapter Text

One of the scouts Talia had rescued from the Fallow Mire met them at the gates of Skyhold when they arrived.

“Your Worship!” She saluted. “We thank the Maker for your safe return.”

“Valeria,” Talia returned the greeting as they climbed off their horses. “How are things here?”

“Quiet, my lady. Thankfully.”

“So this is Skyhold, huh?” Savith said from somewhere behind her. “It’s pretty impressive.”

Brosca squinted at the towering structure. “Surface-dweller buildings are shaped so weirdly. And how do you get anything done without a roof?”

“You will get used to it, my lady,” Blackwall replied somberly.

“I told you to cut it out with the lady shit.”

Talia ignored them and scanned the bailey for one particular face. When she didn’t see him, she frowned and turned to the scout. “Where is Felix?” The sudden sobering of Valeria’s expression turned her insides cold. “Is he—?”

“By the Maker’s Grace, Ser Felix is still with us. But he’s…grown very weak, Your Worship. We’ve moved him to the hospice, so he could be better cared for.”

Talia grew concerned. “Is he awake?”

“I believe so, your Worship. Follow me, please.”

Skyhold seemed much improved from when Talia had last been there. The rusted-out portcullis had been replaced with new, thick metal, and the stone steps leading up to the main hall had been reinforced and sanded down to create even platforms. They passed through the circular rotunda Talia and Felix had thought would make for a great library, and then through an open area she expected would be turned into a garden, before they reached the hospice.

As they stepped in, Talia noticed the pervasive smell of elfroot and mint in the air. There were beds neatly arranged into two rows across the hall. At the far end, there was an apothecary grinding herbs with a pestle. Only one bed was occupied, and Talia sighed in relief when she laid eyes on him.

Felix was sitting upright on the mattress, reviewing a document and writing on the margins with slow, precise movements. He looked up as he heard their approach, and a genuine smile broke out of his tired face.

“Talia! It’s so good to see you.”

“And you,” she responded warmly, returning his smile. She cast a critical eye over his features; he looked incredibly small, sitting in bed. He was sickly pale and bone thin; it was evident how much he’d deteriorated since she’d last seen him.

“Felix. Keeping well?”  Blackwall said.

“As well as I can,” he responded more jovially than Talia expected from a man who was at death’s door.

“This place has certainly improved since I last saw it.”

Felix perked up. “Oh, there’s been so much work done—I myself am quite surprised at how quickly they managed to turn around the main areas. Gatsi and his team have been incredible at patching the place up, and Lady Josephine and Leliana have both sent more people around to help.”

“I shall have to walk around to see it for myself.”

Felix finally caught sight of the people behind them and immediately set aside the document. “Who are your companions?”

Talia stepped to the side so he could see Savith, Nathaniel and Brosca more clearly. Despite knowing that she’d gone to the Deep Roads to find her, Felix still seemed taken aback at the sight of the Warden-Commander.

“Hey. I’m Savith, and this grumpy one is Nathaniel Howe. Wardens of the Grey,” she said, gesturing at both of them.

“Brosca,” the dwarf grunted.

“Well met. I am Felix of House Alexius, from Minrathous. My apologies for not standing to greet you, I’ve found myself incredibly weary as of late.”

Savith looked at him with kind understanding. “The Taint is a heavy burden to bear.” At Felix’s startled glance, she added. “As Wardens, we’re able to sense it; I can tell that it’s been a while for you.”

“A testament to your strong spirit,” Nathaniel commented, and Talia’s eyebrows rose in surprise, not expecting reassurance from him.

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” Felix ducked his head, though his smile dimmed a bit.

“I’m sure you have much to talk about, so we’ll go for now,” Savith said as she turned to her fellow warden. “Blackwall, if you can point us in the direction of the bath, it would be much appreciated.”

Talia waited until they were out of view and their chattering voices faded before she turned back to Felix.

“How are you feeling, truly?”

His lips stretched to a grimace. “It gets harder and harder to wake and get out of bed each day.”

“Felix.” Talia took a seat at the edge of the bed and looked her friend in the eye, trying to convey her seriousness and sincerity.  “I once asked you to let me help you—”

“Talia—”

She raised a hand. “Please, just let me continue.”

Felix sighed, but did not protest further.

“There is no cure for the Taint, that is true. And they would not allow you to attempt their joining, because you’d have to give up your House.”

“I can’t—I can’t do that to Father.” He shook his head. “I’m the only heir—I’d have to give up our holdings and our seat in the Magisterium.”

“Yes, so I’ve told Savith. So, she proposed an…alternative.”

Felix eyed her suspiciously. “An alternative to joining the wardens?”

“Wardens undergo some ritual to master the Taint when they join. The process is quite…selective. They never know who survives or not. So, they’re creating a new version of this potion.”

“And they need someone to test it…” Felix concluded, then shook his head. “This is madness, Talia—we don’t know what this thing will do to me. I don’t want to suffer.”

“Felix, you’re suffering right now. Isn’t it worth it to try?” she implored gently.

“I don’t want to prolong my life if I’ll just be like…like this. This pathetic shadow that can’t even write in a straight line out of exhaustion.” Self-loathing filled his tone, and Talia only just realized how much her friend had been struggling. “I can’t—I won’t do it.”

Talia clasped his shoulder. “I promise that if that happens, I will deliver you from that fate.”

“I can’t put that burden upon you,” Felix said shakily. From beneath her hand, she could feel him trembling.

She squeezed his shoulder and said firmly, “I take it upon myself. It is no burden to help you at all.”

Felix swallowed thickly. A few tears caught in his lashes, and he dashed them away. He took a deep breath. “A-all right. I’ll do it.”

Talia briefly closed her eyes in relief. “I’ll tell Savith. We’ll rest for the night and leave in the morning.”

“Thank you, Talia.” Felix’s eyes shone with gratitude, and she gave him a small smile.

“Well,” she said briskly, changing the topic and dispelling the gloomy atmosphere. “While we’re here, I may as well tell you what happened in Orzammar.”

Felix sniffed surreptitiously, and a hint of fond exasperation crept into his expression. “Let me guess, everything went to shit.”

“To put it lightly.”

Talia enjoyed a warm bath after leaving Felix to rest, and once done, she wandered Skyhold. The dwarven engineers had indeed, worked quickly and efficiently. The previously impassable and crumbling towers were now at least partially repaired, allowing her to ascend and gaze around the fortress perimeter.

There was a whisper of cloth against stone and Talia turned to find Savith approaching. She had changed into clean clothes, and her wet hair was undone; it seemed Blackwall at least managed to get her a bath. Out of the armor, she looked much smaller. Less like a figure of legend and more a young dunmer learning to find her way in the world. Perhaps the same could be said of Talia.

“Felix agreed to try the potion,” she said without preamble.

“I’m glad. There’s not a lot of people who would be brave enough to take it.” Savith leaned against the stone ledge. “I hope it works.”

“So do I.”

Savith’s doe-like eyes were fixed on the horizon. Talia couldn’t deny that it was a picturesque view: the Frostback Mountains covered in a white canopy of snow, painted in warm shades from the glowing of the sun hanging low in the sky. She could understand why Savith was so enthralled.

“I’ve always loved heights,” Savith said as she tilted her head down. “Perhaps it’s the dragon in me, but looking at the world from high up—it puts things into perspective.”

“I’m not sure about heights specifically, but I find the view comforting.” Then she added, surprising herself with her own vulnerability, “It reminds me of Cloud Ruler Temple. And the Jerall Mountains.” Simpler times, despite the looming threat of the siege.

Savith hummed. “I’ve never actually been to Cyrodiil. My parents travelled all over, but when they married, they settled back in Morrowind. Then after the eruption of Red Mountain, they relocated to Solstheim.”

“Eruption of Red Mountain?” Talia asked.

“It was after your time, I forgot.” Savith’s tone was apologetic. “The books call it ‘The Red Year’. When Vivec disappeared, whatever was stopping Baar Dau from falling into the city started deteriorating, until it couldn’t be held back any longer.”

Talia could only imagine the devastation that such an event had wrought. Though it had been many years since she’d left Morrowind, she couldn’t help but feel a touch of grief at the thought of Vvardenfell in shambles.

“I forget that the things I’ve learned in history books may not have happened for you yet.” Savith sighed. “As a dunmer who has never seen the homeland, I truly don’t think of it too often.”

“Does that mean you’ve only been in and around Skyrim?”

“Yeah.” Savith’s voice grew wistful. “I used to be a bard, you know? My father was a painter, you’ve met him, and my mother was a jeweler. They had a tiny shop where they sold their work and various other things. With their encouragement, I decided to pursue the arts as well.”

Talia glanced at Savith. It was difficult to reconcile the image of her singing in a tavern to the fierce warrior she saw killing a broodmother.

“How did you end up in the Brotherhood?”

Savith’s lips twisted into a frown. “There was a…bloodlust that woke in me one day. In later years, I learned it was the Dragon blood in me, bidding me to conquer. But as a…well, young adult, I only understood it as an itch under my skin. And one day I succumbed to the instinct.”

She would have been incredibly young back then, still in her formative years. The Brotherhood would have encouraged those instincts and nurtured her skills, until she became the sharpest tool in their arsenal.

“I killed a lot. And enjoyed it very much.” Her frown deepened. “Still enjoy it to a certain extent. But Paarthurnax, my Master, taught me that it was important to struggle against your nature, if it bids you to do evil.”

Talia’s eyebrows rose. “And you found killing to be evil?”

“Not necessarily,” she conceded. “But reveling in it, killing for fun, even beyond my contracts. I’m not really proud of it.” She scratched the back of her neck. “What of you, though? Why’d you join?”

She cast her mind back to the moment she was recruited. “It’s a long story. But I was essentially blackmailed into it. Lucien,” she cursed her voice for wavering slightly. “Witnessed my killing and thought me the perfect fit for the Brotherhood. At that time, I could only think of saving the Guild’s reputation, and I joined out of desperation. I don’t enjoy killing, but it was a job—a job I happened to excel at.”

“Wait—the Guild? As in Thieves Guild? You would have joined at the time the Gray Fox was still around!” Savith said excitedly.

Talia couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped her. “Ah yes, the Gray Fox. I met them multiple times. Did a few jobs for them directly.”

“Wait, so you know who they are?”

“I know them quite well.”

Though Corvus had managed to break the curse on the Cowl, it still retained its protective properties. Mortal minds could never associate the bearer of the cowl with their true identity—she’d attempted it multiple times and could not find a way around it. Had even tried telling Hieronymus directly once, but the knowledge slipped away from him almost immediately.

In fact, the only person who had seen through it was Martin—through his prescience and his Dragon Blood. Talia paused at the sudden realization as she looked over at Savith’s eager face—she, too, was Dragonborn.

“Hmmm.”

“What is it?”

“This has never worked for anyone except Martin before, so bear with me,” Talia said. “I am the Gray Fox.”

Savith was silent for a long stretch, so Talia thought it didn’t work. She was about to change the subject when the other dunmer broke her silence with a loud, “You’re what!?”

Her Voice projected the last word, and it echoed across the mountains.

“Interesting,” Talia said after she recovered from almost losing her hearing. “It seems it’s the Dragonblood that lets you bypass the Cowl’s enchantments.”

“Wha—bu—how! You can’t just drop that onto me so nonchalantly!” Savith said, sounding half-crazed at the revelation. Then, she groaned. “By the Nine, this is so embarrassing!”

“How could you have known?”

“No, you don’t understand!” She moaned as if in pain. “I have a bust of the Gray Fox in my house. That makes two artworks of you that my family now owns. What’s next? Are you also my favorite songwriter Nidas Beladri!?”

“Oh? Which of my songs did you enjoy the most?”

Savith’s horrified expression was too much for Talia to maintain her farce, and she burst out laughing. She had to hold onto the stone ledge for balance as she doubled over.

“Talia! That wasn’t funny!” Savith whined.

“My apologies.” Talia gasped for breath, still occasionally devolving into chuckles as she tried to get ahold of herself. Like Lukas, there was something about Savith that made her lower her guard. Even she surprised herself with her mirth. Most of her time spent on Thedas was filled with manipulation, insincerity, or calculated actions. It was nice, she thought, to be able to let go for a bit.

She couldn’t even remember the last time she laughed like that. Probably before Martin’s death.

“What’s all this commotion about?” a voice interrupted them. They turned to see Nathaniel approaching. Like Savith, he seemed to have been introduced to a warm bath. He looked like an altogether different person without ten layers of darkspawn blood splashed across his face.

Her mood still light, Talia flashed a smile in his direction, and she was treated to the sight of him looking rather dumbfounded. “Savith was just telling me that she has a statue of me in her house.”

“You are a bad, bad person,” Savith grumbled. “I didn’t know that was you!”

“Who was what?” Nathaniel asked.

“I’m the Gray Fox,” Talia threw out, and she was unsurprised when his eyes turned cloudy. After a beat, he came back to himself.

“Sorry, I was distracted. What was that?”

Savith blinked in surprise and frowned at Nathaniel. “Talia is the Gray Fox.” And again, the same blank expression.

“My mind was in the clouds, what were you saying, Savith?”

Talia met Savith’s open-mouthed shock with a knowing look. “I told you.”

“Our lady is incredible,” she said with awe. Nathaniel frowned at the two of them, and she waved away his concerns. “Anyway, did you need something, Nate?”

“Ah I needed to talk to you, Savith. Have you finished your discussion with Talia?”

Savith suddenly looked guilty. “I may have gotten…distracted.”

“You haven’t told her?” His voice reflected his irritation and Savith responded with a sheepish grin.

“Told me what?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Nathaniel sighed. “We need to tell you something about Warden Blackwall.”

After her lengthy discussion with the Wardens, Talia left the battlements, eager to remove herself from the situation. Thoughts of betrayal and memories of Bellamont swirled in her mind, making her grit her teeth. She planted herself in front of the study’s fireplace, in a futile attempt to reign in her fury.

It made sense that the Wardens hadn’t told her until they’d finished their mission in Orzammar. The stakes were high, and any more confusion or complications thrown into the mix would have lessened their chances of success. Logically, Talia could understand it, but she couldn’t help the twinge of resentment at the thought of them all deceiving her.

The rage she felt did not abate, and she busied herself with oiling her blade by the fireplace to stop herself from doing something she’d regret. The repetitive motion of polishing with the cloth did little to cool her temper, though it cleared the red haze from her eyes and allowed her to think more clearly.

A knock sounded on the door, and someone stepped in. The clink of Blackwall’s armor was distinct, and Talia swallowed down the hiss that formed in her throat.

“You called for me, my lady?”

“Sit.” Talia did not look up from her blade, but she gestured to the plush chair by the fireplace. She could hear him hesitate at the doorway, likely sensing something in her tone. Slowly, he made his way into the room and took the proffered seat.

“I believe there is something you need to tell me, Warden Blackwall,” Talia’s voice was dangerously soft, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the man straighten in his seat.

“I…I’m not sure what you mean—,”

In a flash, Talia moved from her position by the fireplace, casting a paralyzing spell as she straddled him, and pinned him to the chair. She pressed her blade to his neck, caressing it gently with its edge. A small bead of blood formed where her weapon met his throat, and Blackwall swallowed audibly. His wide eyes flickered from her dagger back to her half-lidded gaze.

“I do not give many chances, Blackwall. So, if I were you, I would start talking,” she murmured.

The story spilled out of him in fragmented sentences.

“My name is Thom Rainier. I—I’m a mercenary. I was recruited by Warden Blackwall, but he perished before I could undergo my rites.”

“Oh? And what did Thom Rainier hope to gain by deceiving the Inquisition?” She leaned in closer. “By deceiving me?”

“Nothing! I only truly wished to help my lady. Felix approached me, and I thought—if the world was ending, I would like to help stop it.”

Sincerity bled out of the man, but his response did not satisfy her. “And posing as Warden Blackwall?”

“I—,” He blinked rapidly as he spoke. “I am a wanted man. I was part of the Orlesian Army, and in exchange for a hefty sum, my men and I slaughtered a noble family—allies of Empress Celene.” He couldn’t meet her eyes as he spoke. “We ambushed them and killed everyone…including the children.”

“And so you ran rather than face justice,” Talia concluded coolly.

“…Yes. I was a coward.” His face scrunched in self-loathing. “I couldn’t live with myself—I sought to turn over a new leaf. And that was when I was recruited by Warden Blackwall.”

“Warden Blackwall who is conveniently dead, and whose identity you’ve stolen,” she said flatly.

“I was inspired by him.” He looked almost angry. Talia dug her knife against his skin as a reminder, and he winced. “Wardens fight the darkspawn—they are honor-bound to do the most difficult duty of protecting Thedas.”

She stared down at him dispassionately. He was being truthful; there was no malice behind his deception, beyond saving his own skin. In truth, Talia did not even care about what he’d done, members of the Brotherhood had done far worse, and she still considered them family. But he’d played her for a fool, and she would not forgive that easily.

Still, he may still be of some use. And playing on that guilt and knowledge of his past…it would ensure he never betrayed her again.

Talia withdrew from him, and he gasped for air as she dropped the paralyzing spell altogether.

“You are lucky I am in a generous mood, Thom Rainier.”

“My lady?” he rasped.

“You will accompany us to the Warden’s base, where you will undergo the Joining to become a fully fledged Grey Warden. Then you will return with me, and stay in my service until this Elder One has been defeated and the threat is over.”

“But if I join the wardens, won’t they require me to—?”

“You are of more use to me as a warden than as a common criminal,” Talia said coldly, and Rainier visibly flinched. “I am certain my sister will…lend you to me during this troubled time.”

“I…I understand my lady.”

She seized him viciously by the chin, fingers digging in as she forced him to look at her. “And if you even think about running again, like the coward that you are, I will remind you that there is no force on Thedas that will spare you from my wrath.”

Rainier was wide-eyed as he stared at her, and in his gaze, Talia could sense a mix of fear, awe—and unmistakable desire.

Good. She could use that.

Chapter Text

Soldier’s Peak’s location was strategic and highly defensible; if Talia didn’t already have Skyhold, she would have been tempted to bargain with Savith for it. The fortress was nestled in the mountains of the coastlands, between the arlings of Amaranthine and Highever. It was close enough to the Wardens’ base in Vigil’s Keep for them to easily coordinate supplies, but far enough to be able to conduct their business in secrecy.

As they approached on horseback, the portcullis rose of its own accord, surprising Talia. From behind her, Felix stiffened.

“What is it?” she asked.

“The Veil is quite thin here. Unsurprising with all the blood magic going on.” The reproach in his voice was apparent, and Talia wisely didn’t respond. Her friend was already agitated, and she didn’t want to risk him deciding not to go through the ritual at the last minute.

They were met with another Warden as they crossed the threshold, and with a salute to Savith and Nathaniel, he helped settle their horses into the stable. Felix wobbled on his feet as he climbed off, and Talia steadied him, her hands lightly gripping his elbows.

He looked incredibly nauseated to be even moving, and she felt momentarily guilty that she’d dragged him all the way out to the fortress on horseback for something that wasn’t even a sure bet.

“There’s a space here far from the laboratories and anything Tainted where we can house you, Talia.” Savith frowned. “We rarely receive guests here, so I didn’t even think about the food situation.”

It hadn’t occurred to Talia either, but Wardens had no fear of the Taint, and here in Soldier’s Peak, they experimented with it freely enough that there were likely traces of it in and around the keep.

“We brought some rations from Skyhold,” Felix said. “That should be enough for Talia.”

“And Brosca,” Talia added.

“She’ll undergo the Joining soon so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Nathaniel said.

Talia raised an eyebrow in Brosca’s direction, and when she kept silent, the dunmer spoke up. “Are you addled?”

Brosca looked away mulishly, muttering something under her breath.

“What’s this about?” Savith squinted at them.

When Brosca still hesitated to speak, Talia sighed in exasperation. “She’s pregnant. It’s Duran’s.”

The flabbergasted expressions on Nathaniel and Savith’s faces would have been funny any other time, but given the experimental nature of what they were about to do, Talia didn’t have a drop of humor left in her body.

“Are you mad?” Savith rounded on Brosca. “Duran would kill me if he found out I’m the reason you lost his child.”

“Do you not want to keep it?” Nathaniel asked seriously.

Brosca crossed her arms. “I’m doing this for Duran, but who’s to say he’ll survive the civil war? This baby’s his and I’m not mother material enough to raise it on my own.”

Savith looked incensed at the idea, which had Talia raising an eyebrow in intrigue. Before she could get a word in, Nathaniel continued.

“You don’t have to raise the baby, if that’s your only concern,” he said with a frown. “Though if you also don’t want to go through with the…birthing, there are plenty of herbs that can help with that. Getting yourself Tainted while carrying a child would be the height of idiocy.”

“Nate—” Savith protested.

“That’s her decision to make, Savith.” His voice brooked no argument, though he gazed at her with a strange sympathy that Talia couldn’t understand. Rainier—Blackwall?—was looking away, keeping dutifully quiet. The man likely knew that if he chimed in with another moralizing diatribe, she would eviscerate him.  

Savith sighed and looked away.

“And what of Duran? He expects his child to be safe,” Talia felt compelled to point out. “It’s the entire reason he sent me to rescue her from the dungeons.”

“Well, Duran’s not doing the heavy lifting, so I don’t see why he gets to make that decision,” Nathaniel said flatly.

“No, she’s right.” Brosca looked as if she were in pain when she admitted it. “Duran trusted me with this—and I ain’t breaking that trust.”

Nathaniel gave her a long look, but the dwarf seemed firm in her decision. “If you insist. Just know that you’re allowed to change your mind.”

“Not in this,” Talia countered, and shot him a quelling glance. He met it with a challenging stare of his own—the infuriating man that he was. In principle, she agreed with him, but she was not about to risk a potential treaty with Orzammar for one dwarf.

“Well, with that sorted,” Savith interrupted in a louder voice than usual, and both she and Nathaniel broke off their glaring contest to turn to her. “We’ll get you settled in some rooms, and then I’ll bring around Jowan to talk to you and Felix.”

“Lead the way then.” Talia inclined her head towards Savith.

“Let me help you with your pack, my lady,” she heard Blackwall offer from behind her as they walked.

“I’m pregnant, not infirm, fuck’s sake,” Brosca replied waspishly.

Despite its size, Soldier’s Peak was relatively empty, unsurprising, given how dangerous their little operation was. The few wardens that they passed did a double take at seeing Savith but saluted and looked genuinely happy and relieved to see her.

“Welcome back, Warden-Commander!” One elf greeted them cheerily. “Jowan is about this close,” he pinched his fingers. “To defenestrating himself just to escape Avernus, just thought you ought to know.”

Savith sighed. “This is why I never visit,” she joked good-naturedly. “Any other news me and my guests ought to be aware of?”

The warden gave her a sheepish grin, and nodded a greeting at Talia and the others, before seeing Nathaniel’s severe glare, and paling considerably. He hurriedly shook his head. “No, Warden Commander, sir! Warden Regent, sir!”

“Back to your post, Warden,” Nathaniel ordered. As the elf practically sprinted away, he sighed. “This is your fault for leaving Jowan in charge.”

“I’m feeling optimistic. He hasn’t burned the place down yet,” Savith said lightly.

“So, who is this ‘Jowan’?” Talia asked.

“A senior warden. He’s one of our two…researchers,” she replied delicately, and Talia immediately understood; she didn’t want to announce it to the group, but Jowan was their resident blood mage. It seemed Felix caught on as well, because he squinted his eyes in suspicion.

“Avernus is the other one. But he’s a doddering old man who really shouldn’t be speaking to the general public,” Nathaniel said.

“And why’s that?”

“He’s old and fragile.” He paused as Savith let out a snort. Then he added, “Also a huge asshole.” His voice was nonchalant, but it was clear to Talia that he was maneuvering the conversation away from any potential queries on blood magic. His and Savith’s partnership as Commander and Regent was evident in even the subtle ways Nathaniel supported and backed her. He was utterly loyal to her, and it was fascinating to watch their dynamic.

“Understatement,” Savith said wryly as they turned another corridor to the guest rooms. She gestured towards the long hallway which had around seven rooms on each side. “Pick whichever you want, I think they might just be a bit dusty so feel free to open the windows and such. This is far enough from the laboratory that I don’t think you’ll have any issues with the Taint.”

Felix shuffled over to the nearest room, already looking incredibly exhausted. Talia eyed him surreptitiously, giving him enough space to move around unaided, but ready to jump in if his strength failed him.

“As for you,” A loud thunk sounded, and when Talia turned, she saw that Nathaniel had dropped a hand onto Blackwall’s armored shoulder. “You’re coming with me for a little one-on-one orientation before we proceed with your Joining tomorrow.”

“Of course, Warden Howe,” Blackwall responded stiffly.

They watched as Nathaniel steered him away, with Blackwall looking like death had come early for him. Despite her displeasure with him, she hoped he’d survive the Joining.

“Keep him in one piece, Nate!” Savith called out after them with a grin, before nodding at Talia. “I’ll come back in a bit with Jowan. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he won’t trail in any Tainted material from the laboratory.”

After Savith left, Brosca picked the room farthest from them and shut the door with a loud bang. Talia entered the one beside Felix’s and shoved her pack on the rickety shelf. Like Savith said, dust covered every inch of the sparsely decorated space, and every swish of her traveling cloak sent them swirling in the air. Opening the window barely helped, and she siphoned what wind she could with her magic to help clear out the apartment. After several attempts of vigorously dusting her bed, Talia gave up and went back over to Felix’s chambers.

Knocking gently, she called out quietly, “Felix?”

“Come in.”

When she stepped in, she found Felix seated on the bed leaning back against the headboard. His eyes were closed, and he was grimacing in clear discomfort. Without his asking for it, Talia sent a mild restoration spell his way. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as her magic washed over him.

“My thanks,” he said exhaustedly.

“I’d ask how you’re feeling, but I think it’s quite plain to see.” Talia took a seat on his bed, and he cracked an eye open as the thin mattress dipped.

“Sicut kaffas,” he muttered.

“I have a spell that can temporarily improve your stamina,” she offered. “It could help blur the edges of your fatigue.”

“Normally I’d decline, but at this point, I’ll likely embarrass myself by falling asleep in front of Warden Jowan.”

Talia clasped her hands together and gathered a mix of fortification spells in her palms before casting it over Felix. Immediately, his countenance turned brighter, and his pallid complexion grew a bit rosier.

Felix blinked rapidly. “What did you put in that? I feel like I could take on a bear.”

“Just some basic spells to fortify various aspects of your health. It’ll wear off later.”

“Hopefully after we finish our talk with the wardens.” Felix’s humor returned with his strength.

“No promises.”

Soft rapping came from the door, cutting off Felix’s response.

“Come in.”

Savith entered first, followed by an unknown figure who Talia assumed to be Warden Jowan. He was tall and lanky, standing a bit awkwardly beside Savith as if unsure what to do with his hands. Talia knew better than to listen to rumors, but with how much people from Thedas demonized blood magic, she certainly wasn’t expecting the first blood mage she met to be so…bland.

“Talia, Felix, this is Jowan, our resident expert on the Taint,” Savith introduced.

Jowan’s eyes widened as they landed on Talia, but he eventually turned his focus on Felix. “How do you do?” he said with a small bow. “Ser Alexius, thank you for agreeing to help us in our endeavors.”

“I do believe I might be getting the better deal out of this,” he replied affably. “And please, call me Felix.”

“Jowan, then.” He bobbed his head. “I wanted to speak with you before we went through the Joining. As the Warden-Commander has already mentioned to you, this is highly experimental. We’ve done various tests and in theory our calculations seem to be balanced and correct, but we’ve never fully administered it to someone.”

“What are you hoping to achieve with this…new potion?” Felix asked.

Jowan glanced at Savith for permission, and at her nod, he began. “To become a Warden means taking the Taint upon yourself and mastering it. The original iteration of the Joining potion has a low survival rate.”

“During my Joining, I was the only survivor out of three,” Savith said.

“Sometimes, there are no survivors.” Jowan grimaced. “And even if you do survive and become a Warden…”

“The Calling takes you eventually.” Savith crossed her arms and frowned at the floor. “It varies from person to person, but you’ll eventually succumb to the Taint, becoming little more than a ghoul.”

“So, there truly is no cure,” Felix muttered seemingly to himself. “Is it just prolonging the inevitable?”

Jowan scratched at his chin. “In a sense. But being a Warden is a hazardous job, and most of us die long before we reach our Calling.”

“You seem so nonchalant about dying,” Talia commented.

“Comes with experience, I’m afraid,” Jowan said with a small laugh. He rubbed the back of his neck in seeming embarrassment. “I’d say the constant threat of Tranquility was more terrifying than the threat of death.”

“The Calling doesn’t come for you until around twenty years in. With the potion, we’re hoping to give Wardens more years, or eliminate it altogether and allow some of us to retire peacefully when we age.”

“And may I ask what’s in the potion?” Felix said.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” Jowan mumbled before clearing his throat when Savith raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s better not to think about what’s in it when you’re drinking it.”

“You will go through the traditional Joining. At the end of it, you will be a warden. Perhaps not a traditional one, but you’ll be bound by our fate, and so, beholden to keep our secrets and stay loyal to our cause.”

Felix looked from Jowan to Savith before slowly nodding. “I have no issues with that, as long as I do not have to forsake my House—I am an only heir.”

“It’s not ideal,” Savith admitted. “But this is a win-win situation for us both, so I will agree to it. Weisshaupt doesn’t need to know, and we’ll keep it that way.”

“Do you have any other questions for me, Felix? You’re doing us a great service, and I want to help put you at ease if I can.”

“I thought I’d have more but…” Felix shook his head. “I believe you’re right, I’d rather not ask.”

“Well, if there’s nothing more, Jowan and I will leave you to rest. Your Joining will be at dawn, so best to try and have a good night’s sleep,” Savith said kindly.

Talia stood and saw them to the door, shaking Jowan’s hand in thanks before ushering them out.

The silence that pervaded the room seemed stifling. Felix fiddled with the hem of his blanket, his lips a thin line on his pale face.

“Felix—”

“I don’t want—” He took a deep breath. “Stay with me? Just for a while?”

Talia blinked at him in surprise, waiting for him to play it off as a joke, but his gaze didn’t waver. In his eyes she found only sincerity, and behind it, a splash of fear and apprehension for his unknown fate. She felt herself soften at the sight.

“You still owe me a story about Hieronymus,” he reminded her.

“What? Now?” She asked in confusion.

“No better time.” He shrugged.

It seemed to her that Felix needed a distraction, and she was willing to help where she could. Talia sighed but indulged him all the same. She sat on the bed and nudged him with her hip. Felix scooted over, making space for her, and she squeezed beside him, sitting upright with her back against the headboard. It felt strangely comforting to be pressed against his side.

How long had it been since she’d allowed herself any casual intimacy? The last hug she’d received had been from Varric, and she wasn’t particularly lucid then. And before Varric, it had been Lukas, on her last day on Nirn.

Her heart ached a bit at the thought, and she found herself leaning against him to chase away the sting of loneliness.

“So…Hieronymus,” Felix prompted.

Talia chuckled. “You really want to know?”

“It’s an uncommon name.”

“He was the Captain of the Guard in the Imperial City, the capital of Cyrodiil.”

“What was he to you?”

“An old flame, if you could call it that.” Talia felt nostalgic at the thought of him. It seemed like such a long time ago, when she was young and foolish.

“Is he…?” Felix asked hesitantly, and a beat passed before she could understand his meaning.

“Oh no, he’s alive and well, at least, the last time I saw him two years ago, that is. We don’t keep in touch.” She had come across him during the celebrations in the Imperial City, and it wasn’t as if she’d forgotten that he worked for Corvus, but with everything that had happened, it had slipped her mind.

“Why didn’t you work out?”

“Probably because he was the Captain of the Guard,” she said then added wryly. “And I worked for one of the most notorious thieves at that time.”

“You—oh Maker!” Felix placed a hand over his mouth as if positively scandalized, and Talia huffed at his surprise. “Your expertise makes much more sense now. Well, you can’t leave me hanging! Tell me everything.”

As strange as it was, it was quite warming to tell Felix stories of her youthful indiscretion. Her affair with Hieronymus had been brief, but impactful, and it always reminded her of simpler times. The man had been a thorn in the side of the Thieves’ Guild, and she had roused the ire of Armand and Methredhel more than once by her continuous dalliance with him. Their hand was only stayed by the fact that she was loyal to a fault—she followed all of the guild’s rules and Corvus’ instructions, and never gave away guild secrets. Even when she was ordered to work against Hieronymus, she did so without complaint.

Felix hung onto her every word as she wove her tale, gasping and tutting at the right moments, and Talia realized she had not spoken with this much openness with him before.

It was…nice. Cathartic.

“And that was the end for you both? He just up and went to Anvil and left you?”

Talia laughed. “Don’t make me sound like a jilted lover. I agreed with it too.”

It had been good while it lasted, but even she could see that Corvus had made the right decision separating them and reassigning the captain to Anvil. She still had her ambitions, and while she had genuinely cared for Hieronymus, he could never have been part of the future she had wanted to carve for herself.

“Still,” Felix sniffed haughtily, sounding undeniably like Dorian. “I expected him to at least put up a fight. Where’s all that zeal? Was it all just for this Gray Fox?”

A small smile played on Talia’s lips at the thought. “You joke, but I do believe the Gray Fox will be his one and only.” The irony did not escape her.

When they had met at the celebrations, Hieronymus had still been unmarried, and it was clear that he still held some feelings for her. She was still fond of him, but it was a distant sort of care, without the passion of romance. Besides, after everything that happened with the Brotherhood and the Oblivion Crisis, she would never have been able to slot herself back into his life.

So, she had greeted him fondly, and had let him go gently.

“I cannot believe you pursued a straitlaced guard captain. You!” There was incredulity in his tone. “Especially since you represented everything he swore to destroy. Honestly, this entire story sounds like it was ripped straight out of a romance novel.”

Talia shook her head in amusement. “We were all young and stupid, once. It’s not something I would ever do now.”

“Did he ever find out?”

“No, never. There was no reason for him to know; it wouldn’t do anything except hurt him.”

“Don’t you think he deserved the truth?” There was no censure in his tone, only curiosity.

“I think people often delude themselves into believing that the truth would set them free or something as equally trite. But the truth can be harsh and cruel; it can break you.” Her mind drifted to the Brotherhood, to what it truly meant to serve Sithis and the Night Mother. “Ignorance is bliss, as they say.”

“I suppose so…” Felix dimmed. “If I knew everything they were doing to that potion tomorrow, I would never go through with this.”

“It’s better not to know,” she agreed. Talia knew next to nothing of their methods, but Savith was a fellow follower of the Dread Father—she would not turn away from more gruesome experimentation if it meant results.

“I am terrified,” he admitted, and Talia could feel the slight trembling of his body. “I had thought I would be prepared for my inevitable death. I had accepted it. And yet…” he exhaled harshly.

“Whatever happens, I made you a promise, Felix Alexius.” Talia reached out and clasped his hand tightly. “I will take care of things.”

“Thank you for everything, Talia. Your support means the world to me,” Felix said wetly. “It’s so odd, we’re practically strangers if you think about it. And yet, I believe I can count you as one of my closest friends now.”

“And I you, serjo,” Talia returned warmly, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The day of Felix’s Joining dawned bright and early. Both Talia and Felix didn’t speak as they made their way to the main hall, as if the silence was too brittle to be breached at all.

Savith and Jowan met them there to escort Felix to the ritual chamber. Though its name sounded rather ominous, it was simply a small Andrastian chapel that they’d repurposed for the Joining. As Talia turned to follow them in, Savith stopped her with a light touch on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry Talia, but the Joining is for Wardens only.” Savith looked truly apologetic, and Talia’s ire quickly deflated in the face of her sincerity. It was frustrating to be on the sidelines, but her attendance wouldn’t change the outcome of Felix’s Joining.

“I’ll wait outside.” Talia inclined her head.

She opted to sit on a stone bench at one of the balconies on the main hall’s second floor. From her vantage point, she could see the farmlands of Ferelden spread across the plains. The bright green pastures, and clear, blue waters did little to calm the storm brewing in Talia’s mind as she fretted for the future of her friend.

“May I join you?” A quiet voice spoke and when Talia turned to look, Nathaniel was by the doorway gesturing at the space beside her. At her nod, he took a seat and stared out at the view.

“I thought you’d be at the Joining,” Talia said.

“I figured you’d need the company.”

She cocked her head to the side. “That is…strangely considerate of you.”

“It’s been known to happen from time to time.” The half-smile on his face faded into something more serious. “I won’t give you any false platitudes. But if you’re amenable, I’d like to wait with you until the Joining is complete.”

Talia scoured his face for any trace of deceit. When she found only genuine empathy, she relaxed and inclined her head. “I would appreciate that.”  

The next hours passed in silence. True to his word, Nathaniel sat by her side, providing quiet support instead of flowery words. She wouldn’t admit it, but his presence helped soothe a part of her anxiety and stopped her from dwelling on darker thoughts.

It was their fourth hour of waiting when Savith appeared at the threshold of the balcony. There was a grim expression on her face, and Talia found herself holding her breath.

“Is he—?”

“He’s alive,” Savith said immediately.

“But?”

“He won’t wake up. We’re not sure why, he’s been moved to the hospice where Jowan can better monitor him. As far as we can tell though, he’s perfectly fine—the Taint has stopped its spread, as expected, and his color has already improved.”

“Some good news, at least,” Nathaniel said.

Talia closed her eyes in relief. The vice grip around her heart lessened and she managed to take a deep calming breath. She started when she felt arms encircle around her as Savith pulled her into a light hug.

“Jowan and Avernus are both optimistic about his chances,” she said in a soothing tone.

“You’re projecting your Voice; that doesn’t work on me,” Talia murmured, but gave Savith a gentle squeeze before letting go.

“It was worth a shot.” She smiled at her. “You’re welcome to stay with Felix here; though we’re not sure if or when he’ll wake up.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll have to leave Felix here in the meantime,” Talia said absently. They were nearing their convergence point. At this time, the meeting at Val Royeaux was already underway. Though they hadn’t been idle these last few months—shoring their defenses at Skyhold and seeking potential alliances with Orzammar—Talia was still no closer to solving their templar problem than she was when she and Felix were thrown to the Fade.

“Are you heading back to Haven?”

“No, I’m currently at Val Royeaux, it would be odd if I were seen anywhere else.” Talia blinked as a thought struck her. If she was still in Orlais, that meant the bulk of the templars were there too.

That would leave their fortress relatively unguarded.

“Talia?”

“Do either of you know how to get to Therinfall Redoubt?”

Chapter Text

For the first time since Talia had met him, Felix finally looked like he was at rest as he lay in bed sleeping. Savith hadn’t exaggerated it when she’d said he’d regained his color. The cold mountain air gave his nose a rosy hue, and his cheeks had seemed to fill out and lose its gauntness. Compared to how he was before the Joining, it was definitely a marked improvement.

If only he weren’t so unnaturally still.

A hand settled on Talia’s shoulder, and she tilted her head slightly to look at Savith.

“Felix will be fine,” she said reassuringly. “I promise. Jowan and Nate will take good care of him.”

“Nate,” the man said grumpily from where he was seated. “Would prefer to come and make sure you’re both fine.”

“Well, if only Nate were more skilled at sneaking, then we might have considered it. Alas,” Savith deadpanned.

The offended look Nathaniel shot her made Talia’s lip twitch in amusement.

In truth, his sneaking prowess was immaterial to her decision to let him join their excursion. She planned on donning the Cowl for the majority of it to ensure no one could identify her, and Savith was the only person that could recognize her while she was wearing it.

Her fellow dunmer, for her part, was dressed in dark armor that Talia immediately recognized from her time with Drayven and the Skyrim Thieves Guild. The circular sigil of the Nightingales was emblazoned on the chestpiece, though it blended seamlessly with the rest of the armor’s runic design. Talia could see the shadows twisting and licking at Savith’s feet, eager to cloak her and do her bidding. She wondered if it was simply her connection to Nocturnal that made her sensitive to the darkness; none of the Wardens seemed to notice it.

“We’ll be fine, Nate. Need I remind you that I have more years of experience with this kind of thing than you’ve been alive? Talia too,” she added when he opened his mouth to argue.

“Very well.” He sighed. “But you’d better come back alive. Both of you.”

Talia raised a brow at her inclusion but nodded all the same. “We won’t be taking any risks—this is purely for reconnaissance.”

“I’ve seen what passes for ‘reconnaissance’ with Savith. And with the two of you together…it doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Savith dramatically clutched at her heart, as if his words had landed a mortal blow.

Nathaniel had a point, not that Talia would ever voice it out. Both were followers of Nocturnal, but their luck turned in strange directions quite a lot of times.

“We should head out,” she said instead. “The faster we get this done, the faster we can come back.”

“Good hunting to you both.”

Out of everyone she’d travelled with in Thedas so far, Savith was arguably the one Talia was most at ease with. Perhaps she was simply biased—they were similar in many respects, and so there was an inherent understanding and agreement in many of their discussions. Apart from being a fellow member of the Brotherhood and Guild, she also had natural charm and charisma that made her very easy to be around with.

Savith was very chatty, and while that was a trait Talia usually thought rather irritating, she found herself fairly engaged as they rode together. Her fellow dunmer had a story about practically everything, and it was fascinating to hear how things were in Skyrim during her time.

It was a shock to learn that Drayven was no longer with the Guild, had likely even passed if he wasn’t part of the Nightingale triumvirate anymore. She knew that their line of work was fraught with danger, but Drayven’s reputation bordered on legendary; he seemed larger than life itself. Then again, Talia thought with a touch of grief, stories and legends had to end sometime.

Drayven then apparently had a daughter, though that one wasn’t a surprise given his proclivities. Then she too had her own daughter, only known as Karliah, who didn’t inherit the House name, but who’d taken the role as a guardian of Nocturnal’s shrine.

Considering all that had happened with her family back in Morrowind, it was likely she and this ‘Karliah’ were the only members of House Indoril’s nobility left, and Karliah wasn’t even officially brought into it. Family wasn’t something Talia cared too much about, and it was odd to think that the responsibility of reestablishing the Great House would ever rest upon her shoulders. Talia had always thought her brothers and sisters would take on that role, but knowing their blind faith in the Tribunal, they must have suffered the same fate as the rest of their House.

The Brotherhood apparently had a similar fall from grace, with only the Sanctuary in Falkreath active when Savith joined. They were hunted down, and their Sanctuaries fell one by one. Their Keeper—the Cicero Leliana had once mentioned—brought the Night Mother’s body to Skyrim and built a new altar there. Savith spoke casually, but something in her story made Talia stop and blink in shock.

“They were operating without a Listener?” Talia asked, aghast in spite of herself. “How did that even work?”

Savith shrugged far too nonchalantly for her taste. “Apparently, they relied on rumors of who performed the Black Sacrament.”

Rumors, Talia mouthed, shaking her head. “And they simply chose which contracts to accept and reject?” The Night Mother was the end all and be all of the Brotherhood, second only to the Dread Father. Talia was no fanatic, and she had a complicated relationship with Mother, but she respected her all the same. Being a Listener meant that you followed the will of Sithis—you were the hand that extended their judgment, but not the judge yourself. If Mother deemed someone’s Sacrament worthy, then it would be done. To skip all of that and decide for yourself…it felt quite sacrilegious, especially for ones calling themselves the Dark Brotherhood.

“It worked for them…sort of.” Savith made a face. “I suppose when I started hearing the Night Mother, Astrid—our leader then—thought I was colluding with Cicero. Usurping her, trying to take her power.”

Talia scoffed. “What power was even there to be had? It sounds like that Sanctuary was dying. Mother choosing a Listener should have been taken as a good omen.”

“Well, I didn’t really want to lead, you know? I just…enjoyed killing.”

“Still, if this Astrid, was a true Sister, she would have at least respected your position. Even if you were not leading at the moment, she could have supported you. At least that’s what good Speakers are supposed to do.”

“Well, it’s all in the past anyway,” Savith said, then quickly changed the subject. Talia sensed there was more to the story but decided not to pry.

A lot could happen in two hundred years, but to think that all she’d built could come crumbling down so quickly, it made her rather pensive.

On their second night, as they sat on the ground across from their campfire, Talia brought out her journal and started jotting down her notes on events they spoke about. It was unlikely she would be able to change the course of history—or the future, in her case?—but it never hurt to be prepared.  

“Not writing in King’s Tongue?” Savith craned her neck to look over her shoulder.

“The enchantment on my amulet doesn’t extend to being able to write in the language. Frankly, it’s nothing short of a miracle I was able to make it work at all, with haphazard materials and experimental runes.”

“Do you want to learn?” Savith said. “I can give you a translation of our Common script to King’s Tongue if you want?”

Talia had the rudimentary alphabet that she’d gotten Varric to sound out for her in the past, but a native speaker’s point of view would likely be of better help to her. She handed over her journal and watched as Savith scribbled down the letters and some common phrases. “How did you learn?”

“Nate helped a lot with that, actually. A few years after the Blight, a part of me had given up trying to find a way back to Nirn. I could read up about theories all I liked, but I was no mage. And magic here is so different that I couldn’t really understand it. There was no one I could ask, given how jumpy everyone here is about anything magical.” Her tone leaked frustration. “So, I did my best to try and assimilate into this new life, and this role I’d been given. That included having to understand the language.”

Nathaniel didn’t seem like the type of person that was patient enough to teach someone a new language, but Talia did see how close the two were.

“We’ll find a way back,” Talia said with certainty. Then, something occurred to her, a memory that she’d forgotten after everything that happened in the last few months. “You have people looking for you.”

Savith handed the journal back and Talia slipped it back into her pouch. “I have no idea how long I’ve been gone. They might have already given up.”

“No, I mean, you have people looking for you. I met them when I fell into the Fade. Master Neloth, and a vampire called Serana.”

Savith stared at her.

Inexplicably, Talia found herself floundering. “I didn’t mean to keep it from you; I’d forgotten about it. There was much going on—”

A raised hand stopped her from continuing. Savith closed her eyes and covered her mouth with the other. There was a hitch in her voice as she spoke. “H-how did you—?”

“Through some kind of portal. They used dunmer blood to try to reach you, but they couldn’t pierce through the Veil. With this,” Talia waved her marked hand. “I was able to enter the Fade physically, and their ritual connected to me through our shared heritage.”

“Oh,” Savith’s voice wavered. “I thought I was alone…I didn’t think it was possible at all. You have no idea how much this means to me.” Her eyes were brimming with tears as she finally met her gaze, and the tender hope in them softened Talia’s heart.

“From what I understand, Serana had bullied Neloth into helping her.”

“That sounds like them.” Savith laughed wetly as she leaned back and wiped her eyes. “Sithis—sorry, I’m a mess.”

“You don’t have to apologize for something like that,” Talia said gently. “I should have told you much sooner.”

Savith waved away her apologies. “It’s fine. Damn, didn’t mean to get all weepy. It’s just—I really thought I’d never see my friends and family again.”

“Of course you will, you still have to show me that painting of me over the fireplace.”

A laugh escaped Savith. “I wonder how long it’s been. I keep a regular correspondence with my parents, I know they’d worry about me.” She chewed her lip as if she were contemplating. Then with a quieter voice, she added. “I wonder if my children are now all grown.”

Talia gave her a startled glance. “You have children?”

There was a shy tilt to Savith’s smile. “Yes, three girls and a boy. Sofie, Lucia, M’aisha, and Chases-Starlight.”

Talia wanted to stare at her incredulously. Four children? With her lifestyle of death and larceny? Where did she even have the time?

“I know, it must sound ridiculous,” Savith said ruefully, guessing at Talia’s thoughts. “But I saw them on the streets and I just—I felt this tug. I was so young when I got them, probably still a child myself. I had no idea what I was doing.”

Truly, Talia was not sure what to say. “I…haven’t had the inclination myself. But I am pleased the children found a home with you.”

“Not much of a home when I’m not there all that much,” she murmured. “Perhaps it was selfish of me to bring them with me then constantly disappear to another adventure, contract, or journey.” Savith’s eyes reflected the crackling flames. “When I was younger, I longed for a big family. I’m an only child, but I saw the love my parents held for each other, and the warmth of our family home. I wanted that for myself. Married, heavily pregnant, with a husband or wife, glowing with pride as I take care of my own brood.”

It was a picture Talia could not comprehend, having met her how she was now.

“It’s silly, I know.”

“I wouldn’t call it silly necessarily,” Talia said slowly. “It sounds like a peaceful life. If that was what you wished to do, why did you not pursue it?” An artist like her would have been well sought-after. Savith was beautiful and maidenly; she would have had her pick of suitors.

Savith’s eyes were downcast as she spoke. “There was a prophecy you know. About the return of the Dragonborn. Have you ever heard of it?”

Talia frowned in mild confusion and shook her head, not understanding the connection.

“It’s a bit long, but it states a bunch of things that would happen, and once those are fulfilled, ‘The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn’.”

Ominous, Talia thought. And yet, she still could not comprehend the undertone in her words.

After a few moments, Savith added quietly. “…When they said the Last Dragonborn, they meant it.”

With that, Talia finally understood. Involuntarily, she found her eyes flicking towards Savith’s belly. “You’re…”

“Barren? Yeah.” She gave her a bitter smile.

“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. Savith’s reaction to Brosca’s pregnancy made more sense now.

“Whatever happens, I will be the last. There was no guarantee that my children would have had the souls of dovah, but they would have been Dragonborn by blood.”

It was written in an Elder Scroll—nothing short of another Scroll would be able to circumvent such a prophecy. Unsure of how else to convey her sympathy, she simply placed a hand on Savith’s shoulder and squeezed lightly.

“I have made peace with it…sort of.” Her smile turned softer. “I’ve been blessed with my many other children anyway. And I love them as I would my own. I wish I could blood-adopt them—it wouldn’t make a difference in how I treat them, but it would make it official by dunmer tradition.”

Blood-adoption would indeed make the children her own blood which wouldn’t be allowed by the prophecy either. It was quite common, especially in Great Houses. There were plenty of children from families within or allied with their House; it would have been an honor for them to be adopted into the Indoril bloodline. Talia herself would have gone down that route, had she decided to stay in Morrowind and needed to produce an heir.

“You can get someone to blood-adopt you and your children.” Talia suggested. Her parents must be rolling in their graves—their own child suggesting to another to blood-adopt a Khajit and Argonian?

Savith blinked. “Would that work?”

“I imagine so. Blood adoption is one-way. You’d be in their family, but not the other way around. Though they wouldn’t be your children by blood, they’d still be blood-related to you.”

“Huh. I’d need to find a dunmer that would be willing to adopt us into their bloodline. My own parents can’t—they’re of my blood.” She paused. “Do you think Neloth would agree?”

Both were silent for a moment before bursting into laughter—Savith was almost howling, and Talia was chuckling silently, shoulders shaking.  

“Could you imagine?” Savith said as she wiped a tear. “Maybe I should ask him just to see his reaction.”

“Once things quieten down, I’ll see how we can contact them. Then, you can ask him.”

Savith smiled at her warmly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They reached Therinfal Redoubt by their third day of travel. They surveyed the surrounding area as they waited for sunset, noting the Templars posted by the entrances. At the very least, Talia was certain they found the right place. She donned the Cowl, and as she turned to Savith, she found her companion stock still, staring at her wide-eyed.

“Are you all right?”

“Um,” Savith fumbled with her hood and rapidly pulled it on. “Sorry it’s just—kind of surreal.”

Talia squinted for a moment before the realization hit her. She breathed out a laugh. “Do you want me to sign your armor?” she teased. “I’ll even let you touch the Cowl if you want to.”

“Fuck off, Talia,” came her embarrassed, muffled response.

Once night fell, they made their move.

The walls were too smooth for them to be able to wedge any tools in, so they ended up climbing the portcullis. The metal was icy cold from the Fereldan weather, and Talia had to flex her fingers to shake the numbness away. As they heaved themselves over the wall, she cast a cushioning spell with a flourish of her hands. With a nod to Savith, she jumped and landed softly on the grass, with her fellow thief following soon after.

They had no map of the fort, but Talia was hopeful that it would not be too difficult to navigate.

“Somehow, I expected there to be more guards,” Savith commented as they quietly moved through the shadows of the lower bailey. There was a lean team of templars on watch, and they were spread out far enough that there was no real threat of them being discovered.

“The Lord Seeker brought quite a lot of them with him to Val Royeaux. Likely as an intimidation tactic; a show of force.”

“He knew the Inquisition didn’t have a standing army.”

“Yes. Though I disabused him of that notion.” At Savith’s questioning gaze, Talia elaborated. “I feigned confidence, made them doubt themselves. Pretended we had a hidden army somewhere.”

Savith grinned. “Your cunning continues to impress, dear Sister.”

“The situations I keep finding myself in because of the Inquisition have forced me to think quickly, or die trying,” she replied wryly.

“Like taking a lovely stroll in enemy territory in the middle of the night?”

“Just so.”

With the Cowl and the Nightingale Armor, both Talia and Savith were practically able to saunter across the open space without needing to duck behind every crate. The lack of moonlight helped their jaunt, and they were essentially invisible as the shadows embraced them.

“We should start top to bottom, that way we don’t have to double-back when we’re set to leave,” Savith suggested.

Talia nodded. “The higher-ranking Templars likely have their own chambers and offices separate from the rest. I have a feeling we’ll find them in the upper levels.”

They stalked through the halls of the lower barracks with barely a whisper, quickly passing through chatting knights and rather sleepy guards as they headed upwards. The cold stone surrounding them felt oppressive and Talia couldn’t help but feel strangely relieved once they reached the open courtyard.

“The lack of security is appalling,” Savith said as they scaled the wall and entered the Great Hall through a broken down arrowslit. The opening was just large enough for a person to slip through, and the two easily wiggled their way in.

“Perhaps they thought no one would be stupid enough to climb it this way.”

“It’s only stupid if it doesn’t work.”

Interestingly, there were no templars at all in the Great Hall. Talia had thought there would be at least one or two guards on duty, but it was empty. There was not much to see, but it was obvious the area was more luxurious than that of the lower barracks.

“Either there’s nothing up here, or they’re that confident that no one would be able to get in here.” Savith murmured.

There were four doors in the hall that led to various other areas of the upper keep. Talia tested the handle of the one nearest the entrance and found it unlocked. After a cursory peek, she and Savith entered, and found themselves in a wide corridor with even more doors.

Talia surveyed the area for any signs of life. The enchantment on the Cowl wasn’t infallible, but it at least ensured she would be able to detect anything alive within several feet of her. Behind her, Savith crouched in front of one of the doors and peeked through the keyhole.

“I can’t sense anyone,” Talia confirmed when no purple glows appeared in her periphery.

“These look like the officer quarters,” Savith said as she stood, brushing off the dirt on her knees.

“I’ll take the left, you take the right?”

The two dunmer went through each of the officer’s rooms meticulously, leaving no stone unturned, but also ensuring not to leave behind any evidence of their trespass. There weren’t always enough clues to tell them who owned which chamber, but from their rifling, they managed to at least find Denam’s room.

There was a note addressed specifically to him—it mentioned restricting the knights to the lower barracks, and ensuring they follow orders. Talia’s interest was piqued at the letter. It could hint at a possible conspiracy among the order’s leaders. She copied down the contents dutifully before returning it where she found it.

Savith met her as she was about to enter the last room. “I haven’t found anything particularly incriminating. There was a journal by Knight-Lieutenant Alberta, it was mostly filled with prayers, pleas for forgiveness. But it devolves strangely, here, look for yourself.”

Talia took the journal and read through the entry. Savith was right in saying it sounded guilty, but they’ve worded it rather vaguely—perhaps in the off-chance anyone would be able to find it. There were a lot of gaps in the journal, and then as she flipped the pages further, she found certain entries with only one or two phrases. At the very end, her script looked erratic, but it was longer than the previous others.

‘I canNot rememmmmber my days. They slip from mE at tiMes. But the one thing I am sure of is the anger. So all consuming. And the sTRength it gives. Perhaps the Maker is gGguiding us.’

Talia found herself focusing on one phrase. “‘The strength it gives.’ It?”

Savith shrugged. “Lyrium? It’s what they take to get their powers isn’t it?”

“And anger is a side-effect?”

“You know, that would explain all the templar assholes in the Circles.”

Without any other context, there wasn’t much they could do but speculate. Talia made a note of the journal entry as they moved on to the final room.

As they stepped into the space, Talia locked the door behind them. The room was larger than the others they had already ransacked, but far more spartan in its furnishings and designs.

“Based on the size, I’d guess this is the Lord Seeker’s quarters.” Talia couldn’t quite put a finger to it but there seemed to be something off about it.

“That can’t be—there’s no bed here,” Savith said.

Talia blinked in surprise, then took another glance around. There was a plush chair, a massive desk, a strongbox, a closet and various bookshelves, but Savith was correct…there was no bed.

Strange…did the man sleep elsewhere?

The desk was filled with various letters addressed to the Lord Seeker. Nothing was particularly amiss; there were shipments, reports, orders. They were strewn haphazardly across the table in incomprehensible piles that made Talia wonder if the man was even reading any of it.

“This is the Lord Seeker’s all right,” Savith commented and when Talia looked up from the missive she was reading, she saw that her companion had opened the closet to reveal a full set of Lucius’ armor.

After a few more moments of sorting through the parchment and noting down whatever she could glean from them, Talia abandoned the desk in favor of the strongbox. While Savith was still preoccupied with the closet, she quickly unlocked the metal door using the Skeleton Key, hiding it away before it could make her fellow dunmer uncomfortable.

A red glow seeped out of the cracks as soon as it was ajar. Talia frowned and pulled the door open, widening the gap.

Inside the strongbox, there were a couple of vials filled with what seemed to be powdered red crystal. A heavily creased piece of parchment was jammed at the side of the stack.

“What’s this?” Talia asked as she handled the vial carefully. The glass was warm to the touch, and as she tilted it to the side, the red crystal seemed to glow, then darken. Intrigued, she placed it back down onto the safe gently, before picking up the note and examining it. Savith read over her shoulder as she did so.

‘Whatever comes, follow the instructions in the shipment to the letter. The officers know what they've signed on for, but don't start all the knights on Red lyrium at once. Use the amounts we've parceled out; give them medicine for the pain. They need to be ready to fight again soon enough.

These are your people now, "Lord Seeker." Be a better master to them than the Chantry. If I hear differently, you'll answer to the one we both serve.

Be wary. Every Templar will be on the watch for what you are. A Lord Seeker is never seen without ceremonial armor. I had a replica made. It should serve your purpose in Therinfal.

Remember: Seekers have no place in the new world our master is building. The life of "Lucius Corin" ends with you.

S.’

Talia flipped the letter to see if there was any additional information at the back, but it only contained drops and smears of dried blood.

“Red lyrium?” Savith sounded baffled. “Is that a new type?”

“From the way Varric talked about it, it’s supposed to be a corrupted kind of lyrium. When they first brought me to the Breach to try and seal it, we found some growing in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They warned me away from it.”

“Corrupted lyrium,” she murmured. “Why would they want to use it then?”

“Perhaps as a poison? All templars use lyrium, don’t they?”

“This is strange. This letter’s supposedly addressed to the Lord Seeker, but they’ve written his title in quotations here. And then there’s this part.” Savith pointed to the passage near the end. “It says something about replica armor.”

As if in tandem, both looked over at the armor in the closet.

“Could someone in the Order be moving against Lucius?”

Talia frowned. “It sounds like someone’s trying to usurp him and take his place.”

“‘The life of Lucius Corin ends with you’. An assassination plot? And they seem to want to rid the world of the Seekers as well.”

“That would lead credence to the poisoning theory. I think the better question is why it’s in the Lord Seeker’s quarters in the first place? If it’s a note by the conspirators, it makes no sense why it would be here.”

“He could have already caught them. Might be why there’s some dried blood on it.”

“Or he might still be in the process of purging the Order,” Talia guessed. “There’s no telling how many of them are against him.”

Though the idea was sound, something about it still didn’t seem to be adding up. There was a clear reference to Corypheus in the letter, and given how Lucius and Denam had acted during their meeting, it was apparent that they both served him. Did Corypheus want Lucius out of the way?

“They could have made our lives easier by writing down their name, at least.” Savith sighed. “Instead, all we have is an S.”

“It’s more than we had a while ago.”

Savith offered to copy the letter verbatim in King’s Tongue. They added her and Talia’s observations below: where they were found, and what state they were in. “Maybe there’s something more in the other areas of the hold,” she commented as she finished and handed the notebook back to Talia.

“We should move on.”

They returned the note and locked the strongbox. Savith made one last sweep of the room to ensure they didn’t leave any sign of their entry.

Sadly, the other sections of the upper keep didn’t yield any useful information. Talia realized that perhaps the Templar officers weren’t as lax as they had initially thought they were. It was as if the upper keep was sanitized of anything that could be potentially incriminating. They hadn’t even found any other traces of red lyrium anywhere else.

They backtracked to the Great Hall and out through their narrow entrance. As they were climbing down, Savith made a small noise of interest and stopped in her tracks. Talia, who was situated above her, almost stepped on her head.

“Look over there,” she said, jerking her head in the direction of the bailey.

Talia followed her gaze and saw what she had spotted—a group of twenty or so templars being led by an officer from the lower barracks into the upper courtyard. They observed from the shadows as the group was ushered into what seemed to be the fort’s Chantry.

“Any idea who that could be?”

“No clue, but it’s a higher ranking templar. Like a Knight-Lieutenant or something of the sort, not a Knight-Commander though, the armor is different.”

Talia made a non-committal sound as she cast a more powerful detect-life spell and scanned the area for any stragglers. As she glanced up and across, she spotted some conveniently placed platforms they could use to reach the Chantry faster.

“Follow me.”

They clambered back up the wall until they heaved themselves over onto the battlements when the guards’ backs were turned. With some strategic movement, they managed to vault over pillars and balance on ledges before they could slip in through the topmost window of the Chantry.

In the darkness, Talia and Savith crouched on a beam high above the group and listened to their echoing voices.

They only managed to hear the tail end of the knight’s speech. “—chosen few to receive Andraste’s blessing. With this, you shall achieve feats which you once thought impossible.” He paused and surveyed the other templars who all looked at him attentively and eagerly.

“But remember brothers, this path is not so simple,” he continued. “You have all been chosen because of your impressive fortitude. There will be pain, but it will pass, and we will be here to help you through it. And now I ask, are you prepared to undertake this most holy trial?”

There was an almost immediate affirmative answer alongside salutes.

Talia rolled her eyes. He was laying it on rather thickly, but it seemed the other knights were lapping it all up. Perhaps she should be taking notes.

The Knight-Lieutenant solemnly passed out vials of red lyrium. As he handed out the last, he procured a small bottle of his own. “To welcome you my brothers, let us partake of this gift together.”

With fascination and no small amount of disgust, Talia watched as they dumped the contents into their mouths and swallowed. As they did, one templar at the very back caught her eye. There was hesitation in his movement as he raised the vial, and to her surprise, he then tilted the bottle at the corner of his mouth, letting the contents rain down inside his armor. His actions seemed to go unnoticed as he mimicked a swallow and wiped his face and neck of all traces.

“Praise Andraste, and long live the Templar Order!”

Talia squinted as she tried to make out the man’s face. When he passed by a row of candles as they exited the building, the warm light illuminated his features. It was Trevelyan. Her eyes followed him until the door closed shut behind them, leaving her and Savith with even more questions.

Both agreed to head back to their camp to debrief before they started their journey back. It was far too risky to go rifling around the lower barracks, with the recent activity and the early sun rising in the next hour or so.

“Well, that was…something,” Savith said, as they entered their camp. She pushed down her hood and ran a hand through her hair. “So, they’ve started taking the Red lyrium then? Even though it was confiscated?”

“It doesn’t add up.” Talia took off the Cowl and shook her hair free.

“There’s no way this hasn’t been sanctioned by Lucius. The letter mentions the officers knowingly taking part of the plot.”

“Not all of them. Knight-Commander Trevelyan was in that group of ‘recruits’,” Talia added when Savith gave her a querying glance. “He defects and joins us in the Crossroads before our siege on Redcliffe Castle.”

This was likely the reason for his defection, Talia realized.

“Huh. He didn’t mention the red lyrium to you at all?”

Talia shook her head. “At a guess, I’d say he was still hedging his bets—he didn’t fully trust any of us, and he wanted to be sure of our intent before he gave us that information.”

Which was…fair. Though it still irked her.

“Okay, so maybe it’s just a selection of officers in the know. But still—why are they testing it on the knights?” Savith asked, confused.

“Maybe this is what that Knight-Lieutenant was talking about in her journal? The thing that gave her strength?” Talia speculated.

Savith looked disturbed. “It also robbed her of all reason.”

“I mean it makes sense, if they’re following what’s in the letter, right?”

“Right…except it also says Lucius dies at their hands, and the letter is with Lucius. So, either Lucius has just decided to say ‘fuck it’ and followed the letter anyway, or whoever is doing this isn’t Lucius, and they’re doing all of this behind his back.”

Talia raised a hand to her temple to quell the growing headache. “Whatever is happening, I think we can both agree that it’s bad news. I don’t see anything good coming out of ingesting this corrupted lyrium, whatever it is.”

“Well, at least we know more. And I’m sure Leliana and Cullen can do a lot with this information.”

“Better to be armed with knowledge than to be without it.” Talia gave a heavy sigh. “We should head back, I don’t want to linger around Therinfal any longer than I have to.”

As they mounted their horses, Savith gave a small snort.

“What is it?”

“I just realized—here we are, the Gray Fox and a Nightingale. Guild Masters of the Thieves Guild. And neither of us stole one thing from that fort.”

Talia blinked and thought back to their actions. She was bemused to find that Savith was right. “Maybe I should retire.”

“Can I get the Cowl once you do?”

“Sure, I can even sign it for you.”

“Fuck off, Talia.”