#Like neither of them are particularly trusting on first meeting someone especially with added suspicion from both sides

[otaku553]

so you know how I've been talking about the Kazuha Demon Slayer crossover for ages now?

Hahahaha

Chapter 1 is out :)

[maple-writes]

WHG 14: Boat 3

tagging @ratracechronicler (Elvira, Rebecca) @concealeddarkness13 (Nesri, Lynne, Zenith, Triel) and @pen-of-roses (Rowan, Lynn)

###

The others trickled back into the room, waking me slowly and giving me just enough time to rub some of the tiredness out of my eyes before everyone was gathered. In such a small room we were crammed together pretty close, making it feel all the more tiny.

Once everyone was accounted for, Rowan gave Zenith a defeated look. “I hope your end went better than mine?”

Zenith grimaced. “I found where Evie, Alastair and Poli are staying, but Evie somehow saw both me and Alastair wearing Peacekeeper uniforms, and she’s scared to get close.”

Rowan sighed. “Lynn didn’t buy, or at least didn’t say the Peacekeeper story, but he seemed convinced I wasn’t real somehow. Either it wasn’t me, someone was pretending to be me, or…” They shook their head. “I don’t even know but it’s not looking good.”

Was that what Zenith’s old friends were talking about? “The capitol suspected we might be here.” I paused as everyone looked at me. “I heard they had plans to stop us.”

“Is that why Lynn looked at me like a rotten fish carcass and not a knight in shining armor?” Rebecca winced at some memory. “Great.”

Elvira though, looked more thoughtful. “She looked at you and thought you were wearing Peacekeeper uniforms or thought she’d seen you in them at some earlier time?” She looked to Zenith, waiting for an answer.

“She asked me why I was wearing a Peacekeeper uniform. But she didn’t seem particularly surprised. The Capitol must have already been lying to her.” He frowned. “we might want to change our plans a little. We won’t be able to rescue them tonight.”

My shoulders fell. That wasn’t good. A whole other day stuck here on the ship? And what if even after that we couldn’t do anything, couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them? What then?

Triel sighed dramatically. “And after I went through all that trouble to book an appointment with Snow tonight.”

“We will rescue them though, right?” Rowan’s voice tightened, and even from across the room I could feel hints of panic ebbing from him, prickling cold against my cheeks.

Zenith nodded. “We just need to figure out what the Capitol is doing. Hopefully, we can still rescue them during this party.”

But Rebecca was still focused on Triel, a frown playing on her face. “Appointment?”

Triel nodded. “I’ve been pretending to be a Capitol reporting for a few weeks, and I’ve even published some interviews wit the stylists and a few mentors. I built up that persona so I could get close to Snow without too much suspicion. I asked to interview him tonight, but the appointment was really for his dunk into the lake.”

“The appointment could still be good though,” Rowan started slowly, thoughtfully. “Get a better insight into tomorrow’s events maybe? Or learn more about the ship, or…”

“I might need the help of my lovely assistant, however,” Triel looked over to Elvira with a smirk.

Elvira replied, “How about two or five?”

Triel cocked her head with a rare look of confusion. “If anyone else in this gang shows up, he’ll probably recognize them from the Games.”

Beside me, Cirrus grinned, reaching into his pocket for a folded scrap of paper. That grin could only mean he’d been up to something. “If you need someone he wouldn’t see I might have someone.” He handed the paper towards her and confirmed my suspicion. “Her name’s Amy, on of the avoxes on board. She wrote this out for me earlier and seems in on the plan.”

An avox? I half frowned. What happened to having to ignore the staff that he’d drilled into us at the apartment?

But Triel didn’t seem worried, eyes shining with excitement. “Perfect, I’ll make sure to recruit her to the president overboard gang.”

“Oh.” Elvira blinked. “I actually met some of my old friends—they’re national thieves and pirates at large and unknown to the government. They’re here to rob the place. I struc up an accord with them. One in particular would very much favor a… Bit of a ruckus. But Amy works too.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows. How many pirates could there be at one state-sanctioned event? But before I could figure out a more polite phrasing, Cirrus spoke again.

“At the very least she could get you in. I haven’t spoken to her about actually pushing anyone.” He paused, sighing as his shoulders sloped and his voice softened. “She was on stage with Lynne. I don’t want her to get hurt again.”

Some of the others flinched, as if remembering something painful. Cirrus had said something about that broadcast being harsh, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about an avox.

Triel nodded. “Thank you.” T hen to Elvira, she added, “I do think I would need some more assistants, especially if they are our mutual friends.”

"Captain Skeates will gladly help defy the Capitol, especially if I ask, and the others will follow her lead.” Elvira said. “She's a genius, as you likely know, Quartermaster Chaudhary has the guns, and Mirabel has the gadgets. Tell me what you need us to do."

Triel’s eyes shone. “Oh, I simply must have more assistants. I haven’t seen them in a year.”

What were the odds, these pirates knew our pirates. I’d never thought I’d ever meet one pirate, let alone this many. Was there anyone on this ship that wasn’t a pirate? Wait. I sat up. I’d almost forgot about what happened with Zenith’s team.

“Whatever you do, try and push him off the right side of boat. I convinced—” My eyes flickered to Zenith for a second. Would they want him to know? Would he be upset if he knew? “—Some security, to move some safety equipment away from the area.”

Rebecca sat up proudly. “You mean the starboard side?” She looked around, as if pleased to show everyone she knew what it was called.

“I don’t know,” I mumbled. “I just told them the right side.”

Rowan scoffed. “I don’t know whether to be happy that worked or even more irritated with them that they moved it.”

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Zenith watching me, eyes narrowed and posture stiff. I quickly looked away, trying not to meet his eyes. He probably knew. He’d be smart enough to put it together.

“I found an old friend, and he’s invited us to meet the captain.” Nesri interjected. “He stays they will held. And he’s a horrible liar, so I trust him.”

“Ooh yeah!” Rebecca agreed. “lets kinda leave at different times and go different routes so we don’t draw attention to us as a group, right? The captain’s at the bridge I’m assuming?” She paused just a second, almost not noticeable. “That raised bit kinda near the back of the yacht up on top with the windows?”

Good. I would have had no idea what the bridge meant. It sounded familiar though, her description.

Nesri nodded and paired up with Zenith, and Triel decided to walk with Elvira.

“Meet in ten minutes?” I asked, making sure to give myself enough time to remember where I’d seen the bridge.

The others agreed, and we staggered our leaving. I left with Cirrus, taking the long way around the outside of the ship alongside the deck railings. If it weren’t the president’s ship it would have been a nice walk. The breeze off the lake carried the smell of fresh water, cool and light. But it wouldn’t last. We had to go back inside when we got closer to the bridge, back into the metal halls and artificial lights.

When everyone was gathered, Nesri’s friend let us into the bridge to meet the captain. He led us through a room filled with all kinds of navigational instruments, glowing switchboards, radio equipment and a whole range of equipment I didn’t recognize, straight to the person at the helm.

They turned around and I couldn’t help but stare. They wore a pristine navel uniform without as much of a hint of a wrinkle, perfectly shined shoes, and perfectly placed hair, and perfect posture. Both eyes were covered with sleek eyepatches, and a brightly coloured parrot sat on their shoulder in it’s own perfectly tailored uniform. I leaned forward just a bit. The parrot… It’s uniform looked like it had a slightly different insignia.

“Hello Captain Reeves!” Nesri’s friend grinned and waved. “I wanted to introduce you to some people who aren’t Capitol puppets.”

The parrot looked first, head cocked and pupils dilating. “Yo ho ho.”

The captain turned too, frowning. “You brought rebels in here?” They paused, long and silent save for the whirring of navigational monitors. Then they smiled. “Brilliant! What do they need help with?”

I glanced between them and the parrot, not sure who to focus one. The captain had been the one to speak, but the parrot… It was like it was looking right through me. It was looking right at us.

Nesri laughed, failing at keeping it in, but Zenith seemed to fare better. “Do you know anything about any of the guests being forced to see other guest differently than they should, Captain Reeves?”

The captain burst out laughing, loud and booming in the small room. “The parrot doesn’t know anything but navigation! She’s Captain Reeves, and my name is Smith. Now about what you asked, I do have a machine that sends some data to a place on the mainland. But I have no access to the data.”

Again, I glanced between them before cautiously settling on Reeves. “Does, does Reeves have access?” Would it be rude to not have addressed her directly?

“Or do you know anyone who does?” Elvira added.

“Neither of us have access.” Smith said. “Don’t know if you meddling with the machine would do you any good anyway. But...” they paused, seemingly only for dramatic affect. “I did hear some idiot Peacekeeper talking about how this big machine—” they gestured to one off to the side, “gets data from these small machines that were integrated into the shockers that the tributes wear. If you could figure out how to disable those smaller machines, you’d be able to stop them from seeing things you don’t want.”

Captain Reeves bobbed up and down on Smith’s shoulder, wings flapping out at her sides. “Yo ho ho!”

The conversation shifted, moving on to how best to tackle the new challenge. Luckily it seemed like Shine might be able to devise some kind of work around, they just needed time. Most of it went over my head, talking about technology and devices and disablers. Clearly nothing was going to get done anytime soon and nothing I’d be particularly helpful with.

I excused myself from the bridge and made my way back to the room. There seemed to be some kind of game show going on in the main room now, with Ceasar hosting on stage and contestants chosen from within the crowd. I slowed as I passed, eyes glued on him standing, standing there in the center of the stage. This time it was Lynn up there with him, forced to smile and play nice with the lucky volunteers on stage. Resentment burned deep enough to simmer in the marrow of my bones. How dare he. My fingers curled, nails sharper than they should be as I glared.

The lights flickered and I forced a deep breath. Relax. Keep it together, just another day. I kept my head down and went straight back to our room.

#

Some of the others didn’t come back right away, busy somewhere else on the ship figuring out electronics or scouting, or something. I hadn’t really paid full attention, all I knew was that I wasn’t alone in the room anymore and couldn’t seem to fall asleep again. Ever since coming back from trying to figure out Laurel’s trackers though, Rowan and Zenith had been quiet. Neither seemed much up to talk, Rowan seeming especially down and tired after what must have been a whole ordeal. Fair enough.

But just as I’d gotten comfortable again under a heap of blankets, there was a knock at the door. Zenith got up and answered, readjusting his eyepatch at the last second to cover his eye again. I couldn’t see who it was on the other side of the door, but I perked up when I recognized her voice. The dragon-woman from Zenith’s old team. She said something about Lynne and Lynn attempting their own escape.

Zenith  glanced back, evaluating with his uncovered eye before turning back to them. “I’ll go stop them.”

“Wait,” I threw the blanket off and popped up to my feet, the ground spinning a little when I moved too fast. “I’ll come with you.” Nerves told me to go with him, just in case, just in case something happened. Just in case magic somehow got involved.

He studied me a moment, doubt flashing across his face strong enough I thought he would say something, tell me not to come, but then he gave in. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Him and the dragon led the way, and I had to jog a few paces to catch up with them. Were they walking fast, or was it just me? I tried my best to keep up despite the heaviness pulling at my eyes, weighing on my legs.

“When  I left, the captured tributes were trying to cut out their shockers. We were helping so they wouldn’t hurt themselves too badly, but…” the dragon trailed off, a grimace striking her face. “I don’t think that will work. The Capitol knows you cut your trackers. They won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“We should hurry.” Zenith’s voice gave nothing away, his eyes straight forward as he picked up his pace.

I realized too late, having to run again to catch up. “They didn’t hurt themselves, did they?” I stuck close to Zenith’s shoulder and glanced past him to the woman.

She shrugged. “I left before they could finish. They probably did hurt themselves, but Arque and That will make sure it’s not life threatening.”

We came to a stop, and Zenith picked up a piece of paper from the floor. He read it quickly and handed it to me. Went to the right side of the boat to help them “escape” scrawled across in hasty handwriting.

“Already?” We hadn’t taken that long to get here, had we? I turned to Zenith and the dragon. “Do you know where they would have gone?”

She nodded. “Somewhere no one would notice. A small stretch on the back of the yacht where there’s no entertainment or lights.” She smiled a little, directed at me. “Thanks for the suggestion earlier today, though. They’ll want something to help them swim properly, so the delay will help us catch up to them.”

I smiled to myself, still holding the note as we started walking again. Zenith gave me another suspicious look though and I hid my face, hunching my shoulders and staring down at the deck. The smile stayed though, wide and secret as we hurried along the outside of the ship.

It vanished though when we found them. The other two team members mocked confusion at the missing equipment, but Lynn and Lynne noticed us immediately with harsh glares.

Lynne crossed her arms. “What do you want? We’re not breaking any rules.”

I took a step closer, close as I dared under their glares and the anger strong enough to feel even though the air. Under that though, almost too faint to notice, fear prickled cold at my face too. “I,” I swallowed. “I know you want to get out of here, but please just wait a little longer.”

“You, you were with Rowan?” Lynn asked, not quite meeting my eyes.

I nodded. “We met before the games.” What had they told him about Rowan? That they’d gotten out? That they’d been captured? That they’d died, alone and cold and hungry and suffering in the snow? “They’re here too, and they’re safe.”

“Safe?” Instead of relief, Lynn spoke with contempt. “When you’re all peacekeepers?”

“What?” I blinked, stiff in place. “Oh, right.” That’s what this whole thing was about, their shockers and whatever it was that was making them see this way. What was I supposed to say? There wasn’t nearly enough time. “I know it doesn’t make sense, but we really aren’t Peacekeepers.”

Beside me, Zenith sighed and crossed his arms. He stood straight and hard, like the peacekeepers they thought we were. “I have to ask that you return your room.”

I stood taller, trying my best to mimic his posture, but judging by their reactions it wasn’t nearly as convincing. “Just for now, please.”

But Lynne only matched us, trying to intimidate us back. “Why? We’re not breaking any ules. And we’re not required to be anywhere right now.”

Zenith put one hand on his hip and hovered the other over his side. There must have been a reason, but I couldn’t begin to figure it out. “The president requires it. Please, don’t struggle.”

Neither seemed scared off though. Lynn crossed his arms and studied Zenith, and Lynne didn’t give up her glare.

“Don’t you have a shred of yourselves left in there?” She spat. “Wouldn’t you want to defy the Capitol?”

Lynn placed a hand on her arm. “What happens if we refuse to go with you?”

Zenith clicked his tongue. “The president has allowed us to use force, if needed. It would be… unfortunate if we had to do that.”

Was that, was that a threat? Tension coiled in my stomach. What was he planning? He, he wasn’t going to actually hurt them, was he? They were scared, they were desperate, it was the last thing they needed.

Lynn hummed, low and defiant. “And you haven’t because..?” He said something to Lynne, to soft for me to hear.

Zenth sighed. “Fine, you don’t believe me?” He dashed forward, grabbing on of Lynne’s arms and forcing it behind her back with a predatory glare at Lynn. “Is that considerate enough for you?”

I startled, staggering off balance at his sudden movement. Lynne struggled against his grip but there was nothing he could do and I could only stare, wide-eyed and shocked. What was he thinking? What was he doing? That was Lynne! That was Lynne. But I swallowed my horror and hurried forward, putting myself between Lynn and the other two. Just in case. If there was a fight, if there was a full on fight I didn’t want to know what would happen.

Lynn stared down at Zenith and Lynne. “I’ll go with you if you let her go.”

Zenith paused, considering for a moment before letting her go and nudging them forward. “Then let’s go”

Lynn whispered something else to Lynne, then turned to me. “Alright let’s go.”

I glanced at Zenith, following his lead to escort them back to wherever their room was. Unease knotted along  with the tension in my gut. Lynne hadn’t even seem phased by what Zenith did. Hardly even seemed shaken. What else must she have been through since capture if that didn’t even seem like all that big of a deal?

“So, what happened to those bandages?” Zenith asked, still in his harsh peacekeeper tone. “They’re suspiciously over your shockers.”

Lynn glanced at Lynne. “Accident.”

“Are you okay?” I leaned back to see the bandages. They looked hastily applied and I couldn’t quite tell how much damage there might have been beneath them. What kind of tools did they try and use? “Is it a large wound? Do you need anything for it?” Was it going to get infected?

Lynne shot Zenith another glare. “Don’t touch them. Someone else took care of them.”

“We’re fine.” Lynn agreed, glancing over to me. His expression shifted, just a little, just a little bit softer, curious. “You know, Rowan likes a very specific tea. I used to tease them about the smell being too similar to a garden for me.”

Immediately a smile spread across my face. I still couldn’t fathom how anyone could just look at a plant and know what it was the way they did back at the training center. Of course they would like something garden-scented. “I can see that, they do like their plants.” The image of Rowan with mug after mug of tea in the apartment flashed though my head. How they’d always be brewing something and offering to whoever looked like they might want some. “And their tea.”

“I still don’t believe you’re Peacekeepers.” He mumbled. “But then I don’t really believe much of what Selene tells me anymore. Are you really trying to help.”

I nodded again. “We’re all there. There’s been a snag, but we’re trying.” Who knew if he believed me, but at least he wasn’t as hostile as Lynne.

“Then why stop us?”

Zenith muttered something under his breath and I ignored him, focusing on Lynn instead. He and Lynne deserved an explanation, even if they didn’t believe us right away. “I don’t really understand it, but there’s something extra in your shockers.” I pointed at his bandage, not sure what kind of terminology they’d been using for it. “There’s something affecting your perception, and we need a little longer to figure out how to stop it.” They deserved some kind of assurance they weren’t here alone even if they wouldn’t understand until we fixed what was wrong.

All Lynn did in response was hum, and Lynne did all she could to appear like she was ignoring every word I said.

We got to their room and Zenith ushered them towards the door. “Now, don’t leave until someone tells you to. If any of the Peacekeepers see you out again, they won’t be as nice as we were.”

“Right.” Lynn muttered.

Lynne didn’t say anything. She just walked in, flipping Zenith off until she flinched with a hiss of pain and had to settle with slamming the door instead. So they had cameras in their room.

As soon as the door was closed my shoulders slumped and I sighed. “At least they stayed on board.”

Zenith watched the door a little longer. “But the shockers are still working. That must not have worked.”

He put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out a crumpled up note with a look of surprise. He handed it to me when he was done reading. Cutting them out didn’t work. The machines are clinging to their muscles. Too difficult to pull out without professional help. Sorry. That didn’t sound good.

My heart fell. “That’s not good. Although, as long as we can disable them it’ll still be good enough for now, right?” I sure hoped so.

Zenith nodded, turning away. “Let’s head back before anyone asks any questions.”

Good idea. I followed him down the hallway, grateful he seemed to know where he was going. I shuffled along beside him, eyes down on the ground. Had it hurt, when they’d installed the shockers? If they were imbedded right into their muscles it couldn’t have been easy. Did it deliver the shock that deep, under the skin and into the muscle itself? My eyebrows furrowed and I hunched over around the weight on my chest. We had to break those things. We had to get them out of here. We had to.

My fists clenched at my sides and I set my jaw. They had to pay. Everyone on this forsaken vessel, everyone laughing and dancing and playing at their expense… I wonder how they would like it. Wonder if they knew. Wonder how they would react if everything suddenly went wrong. If they suddenly had to fear for their lives.

Not yet. I sighed, following Zenith back into our room. Not yet.

[fanesavin]

Later in the day following the Quiver, further discussions are had.

[ Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (x) | (x) Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 (x) (x) | Part 7 | Part 8  (x) | Part 9 (x) ]

@teddyaynesworth / @ianncardero / @mayaparker

Fane couldn’t say examining cadavers was a pastime that he saw himself participating in during his time in the Capitol, yet that was what his morning had consisted of. With Miguel’s assistance the body had been examined and a venom determined due to the distinctive markers that had become evident post-mortem. Not that it aided all too much in locating a culprit considering the origin of the snake was that of the High Raj’s homelands. Killed by something of his own origin. Poetic in some sense but a cruel way to pass. Following this, he’d ultimately been down to the prisons to watch the interrogation of Lady Lacroy’s assailant. His face was rather indistinguishable and he’d been hung from his arms for an extended period of time and the threat of worse had been enough for the truth to spill out of him. Fane wasn’t an overly cruel man, not above threatening the use of such devices but not sadistic enough to put them to use. The man was a simpering fool it transpired the plan one of his own design inspired by conversations he’d overheard in the Keep. House Kesley with their apparent designs and resolute stance against any and all agents of darkness. Fane grimaced as he recalled the house’s motto, For the People indeed. Things were… progressing he supposed.

There was one last thing to address. Explaining why he was back at his chambers, cleaning his hands of the grime from the dungeons waiting for his guards to bring Lady Parker to his attached viewing chamber. The very space she’d assured him that there were to be no more lies. Apparently another lie.

Maya had managed to to slip away in the chaos of the meeting’s end last night. She’d paced up and down her room, considering her options. In the morning, they’d be unlocking the gates, meaning she should be able to slip away and disappear into the night. She worried though that leaving would give the real murderer an all together too convenient scapegoat. No, this time she was going to have to stick it out. At least for a little while longer. In the morning, she did slip out though back into the city to get a read on how the common folk were reacting to the news. Unsurprisingly it was a mix with most everyone concerned about the prospect of war close again. She stopped to ask a blacksmith in the Lower City a few vague questions, hoping to find out more about how the crown’s mechanism might work. She couldn’t ask much though, not without revealing the rest of the truth. She returned to the castle before anyone could notice she was gone. Shortly after she returned she was hauled up to Lord Savin’s viewing chamber. “I can still walk,” she snapped as they dropped her off. She huffed before smoothing her skirts, tipping her chin up and walking into the room with the High Inquisitor.

Fane heard the knock before his men walked Maya into the room, and he took the time to make her strew while he dried his hands on a cloth set side the basin. Retrieving his signet ring and slipping it back on his finger he glanced at his appearance noting the sombre drawn features looking back at him. There was a touch of grey beginning to dust his beard, had that been there before? He couldn’t rightly say. Eight and thirty years and he was already beginning to look like his father before him. With everything apparently in order, he walked to the room where he’d made her wait a little while. “No, sir,is what I recall you saying to me yesterday when I asked if there was any further information I needed to be aware of,“ he stated as he shut the door behind him seeing no point beating about the bush.

Maya had expected Lord Savin to be in the room when she walked. He wasn’t. She checked her pocket to ensure that her stiletto was still there. It was better to be safe than sorry. She was forced to wait several minutes before Lord Savin appeared. Blood on his boots didn’t escape her study of him. "And no sir was the truth. My heritage wasn’t something you or anyone else here needed to be made aware of,” she said, dispensing with the usual courtesies.

Fane looked Maya up and down, the truth made a fair bit more sense of the way she behaved and acted. “No? Hm.” He couldn’t say he particularly agreed on that stance, “not even when that particular revelation rather undermined my authority and, rather effectively, I might add, left me looking the fool?”

“You’d have to take that up with the Red Priestess then,” Maya replied, “I had no intention of having my secrets and a tray of wine spilled everywhere last night. At any rate, it’s not relevant to the High Raj’s death or your investigation. I’d hardly spend nearly my entire life running from my title just to murder someone else for theirs now.”

Fane circled around to the front of his desk, leaning his weight to perch on the edge of it. “Perhaps not, but it isn’t hard to paint a picture with it.” Even if it wasn’t true, but that was what these people did, took your secrets and spun them into something so much more. “First you come and tell me that not only did you once work in the kitchens of a man that was poisoned, it now it becomes evident that you are heiress to a Kingdom? A fact you decided to keep to yourself that not only makes me look the fool for having you in my employ in such a fashion without knowing the truth, but equally gives you access to the castle swinging suspicion in your direction. How convenient that a long-lost heiress turns up right as a kingdom is going to ruin.” It wasn’t hard to spin a story, and Maya’s potential culpability innocent or no only weakened his already tenuous footing.

Maya shook her head. “I’m not an heiress. I have no interest in my parents’ crown or anyone else’s. Those things only ever get you killed or old before your time,” she said with a clear conviction. If she had wanted power, she would’ve gone back to Comeádai. Not a small percentage of the population wanted her there. “I apologize for the inconvenience of my birth and I understand if you need to dismiss me or imprison me until the real culprit is found. But if I did it all again, I would only hide the truth better.”

Fane had known Maya long enough to have some measure of her. But equally had he not also been wrong about her this whole time? It was a frustrating issue to face, “whether that’s true or not matters little, especially if someone is looking to shift their own cast of guilt.” Which was ultimately his point, neither of them were interested in power or the responsibility it brought about but equally were now put in the position that they had to deal with it. “Unfortunately, it would equally reflect badly to imprison you without much cause or reason presently… I do not believe you are responsible, but that doesn’t mean others might not consider the possibility. Neither can I let you leave until a culprit is found.” So what was he to do with her was the ultimate question.

Maya waited another moment after Lord Savin stopped speaking. “Then what do you intend to do with me?” she asked. Whether noble or servant at the moment she was still completely under his power, considering his temporary title. While she had no interest in a seat at the table, she might not have another choice. It wouldn’t be long until gossip spread through the castle and the servants no longer trusted her. She doubted though that any of the other nobles would have much interest in what she had to say either. Despite the title it placed upon her, the revelation of her true identity had left her rather powerless.

“That’s a good question,” and in all honesty he didn’t have an answer. Eventually he looked towards the window for a little while prior to his gaze returning to her, “help the investigation and maybe the council… If you don’t wish for a seat…” he pursed his lips, stroking his beard in thought “then act as one of my advisors. You’re smart and you have good instincts… that much I do know…” Might as well make use of them while they were in this situation.

Maya waited. She hated having her fate decided by someone else. The minute this was all over she would likely disappear again. After some time, Lord Savin asked her to be his advisor. She blinked once, surprised. It was not a small thing for him to continue to trust her or at least appear to. “I’ll be your advisor, sir,” she replied after she’d counseled her expression. “On that note, this morning, I spent some time down in the Upper City. Bron, if he’s to be believed the best blacksmith in any land, did the work to restore the crown. Although without the murderous part. His apprentice said that the Commander of the Golden Eagle dropped it off and picked it up.”

Fane wouldn’t go so far to say that he was putting his trust completely in her earlier points still to consider, but presently she wasn’t highest on his list of considerations. So the revelation of the next piece of information had Fane pausing, perhaps she would be useful after all. “So the mechanism was added after…” it wasn’t entirely new information but the crown went on tour almost immediately after it’s renovation… But if it was picked up and left by the Commander and considering the Golden Eagles had supposedly never let it leave their guard… He made a slightly frustrated noise, “then the question is where’s the window of opportunity? Unless the guards were bribed…”

Maya shook her head. “That I’m afraid I can’t answer. And any hope of my overhearing a drunk guard let something slip likely expired the minute gossip of my identity spread. Once it arrived in the Capitol though someone would’ve had to bribe at least six guards,” she said although she expected it was information Lord Savin already had. She paused before adding, “Or have convinced the Commander that the death of his lord was necessary.”

Fane had considered this already but it was the only answer at hand. “I don’t see any other way. I suppose we have a commander and some guards to investigate.”

Maya nodded, “I suppose you do, sir.” While he had yet to throw her out or in chains, she didn’t expect that he would want her present for any proper parts of the investigation.

Fane “Keep your eyes and ears open, see what else you can learn.” With that said he gave a nod of dismissal. He needed to speak to some of the others, to gain a measure of their view of the situation.

“It hardly seems prudent – or believable – that one single article of adornment could signify so much and create such havoc, does it?” Prelate Theodore appeared at Iann’s elbow, his grey habit switched out for a flat raven black coat of mourning. He inclined his dark head towards the throne and the bloodstained crown that sat upon it. “The well-laid and hard-earned plans of so many over so long, all brought to ashes in one terrible moment.”

The tall owl was back, after dealing with many matters concerning the commonfolk, and even his own clergy. Faith lost and hope found and all that, Iann supposed. The royals of the Forty Isles were not particularly religious, but the Cloverry was as good as any other religion, as far as Iann was concerned. Useful, convenient, accepted in Bluesprings. A good shorthand for being considered ‘good’ among the commonfolk and their ideals of belief. Iann stood in the Grand Hall, staring at the Sunlit Throne and the Guards surrounding it. The bloody crown placed back there as a symbol, now that the Inquisitor had completed his investigations on it. Even if he needed it again, it was not going to disappear within the Rajisthangard’s vigilance. “It’s an ugly crown, don’t you think?” Iann said, looking over at the other man. “Do you understand such things as beauty, Prelate? You see that metalwork - the craftsmanship is so very…Sharma. I understand that a High Raj always has a slight bias towards one’s House of course, but if only someone could’ve persuaded something with a bit more elegance and poetry. Not your persuasion, unfortunately. I suppose the Council that he was never able to announce was likely to be filled with grim birds like you.”

Prelate Theodore clasped his hands behind his back. “The very centermost tenet of faith is beauty, Your Highness. Otherwise most religions would have a dreadfully uphill task in appealing to the populace. Although conversely, some groups do appeal to an alternate but no less strong element when it comes to creating a reaction.” Theodore nodded at the Sunlit Throne. “Fear. Even if the crown had been wrought of Summerset ivorygold in the most intricate patterns of the Isles, it would still have performed the same slaughter, once devised.” The Prelate’s voice was gliding and genteely expressive, alighting on certain key words and making other, more dark suggestions as bland as possible. “It’s been my experience that a happy kingdom requires the efforts of grim birds such as myself.”

“Well said,” Iann said, stroking at his trimmed beard, then amended, “About the crown I mean, not the kingdom. I disagree with that, but then - I’ll soon be ascending my own Throne, soon.” If only his father died. He’d heard from the Mothers that the Cardero King was confined to his room now. Iann wanted to be pleased by it, but with the High Raj dead and the realm under an Inquisition, suddenly Iann found himself hoping that his father hung on for a little while more. “A clever device within it, I must say. As ugly as the crown is, its mode as a weapon is quite elegant. His death…was elegant.” Iann looked over at the Prelate. “Did you love him? As a High Raj. You can speak honestly to me, it makes no difference now that he’s dead. It wouldn’t be treason to say you did not, indeed, love him.”

“The tenor of rulership in the Forty Isles has always been of a sunnier nature than here in the mainland, true. But then, the war did not engulf you so wholly as it did the rest of us.” When it came to island nations, it could have gone either way; had the Cardero King allowed his Isles to be dependent on imports, they would have suffered far more than many mainlanders. As it was, the seafaring princes were able to procure whatever wasn’t produced on their own lands. Grimness perhaps did not carry to them the same shorthand for serious dedication that it did in the Cloverry and the Capital. “I’m afraid I haven’t much native sense when it comes to elegance,” the Prelate demurred, a claim put to lie by not only his clothing and bearing but his entire demeanour, “but still, I cannot bestow the word on the base slaughter of our High Raj. I did love him, yes.” Theodore’s eyes grew thin, a gimlet grey flash of intensity. “I loved what it was he represented. What he could have brought about. Does that surprise you, Prince? Were you hoping to catch the Cloverry out for hypocrisy or bloody-mined heartlessness?” Theodore almost sneered. “Or am I the one you’re trying to catch out?”

The imposed confinement of the city had made those within and without restless. The commoners either cowered in their homes, razed in the streets until the guards shut them down, or went about their lives as if their Raj had not just met the Light in a most violent manner. Though they only knew of a death. Not the manner. But now whispers arose all over the city. Whispers that floated here and there, of treachery and deceit. Of conspiracy and murder. She had adorned a dark set of robes in respect for the mandate of the city that the Raj be mourned, and found herself on the walkway with both the prince and the Prelate.

“I was curious on how the High Raj chose his Council. I suspect that all members of his Council were as loyal as you, then. I had no love for the Sharmas personally,” Iann proclaimed this loud and unafraid, but he wasn’t looking at the Prelate when he said it; he was staring right at the Rajisthangard, who did not make any eye contact in return. “But I did respect the Cloverry’s choice.” The Forty Isles was one of the kingdoms who had agreed that the Cloverry should make the decision for High Raj. “The Cloverry chose Avitej Sharma, and then Sharma chose to commission that crown for his coronation.” It was meant to be a crown that would rule for decades, but that was all gone now. A new High Raj needed to be chosen, and a new crown made. “And then that crown killed him. I wonder if the Inquisitor has the blacksmith hanging upside-down in the dungeons for this.”

“Don’t all crowns kill their wearers in the end, your grace?” the priestess asked quietly as she came up to the pair. “Though most usually last a fair bit longer than your dear Raj.”

Prelate Theodore described a short bow in the Red Priestess’ direction as she joined the conversation, continuing, “Sady true. And High Raj Sharma who was, rest his Spirit, had more awareness than most of the burden of the crown – seeing as he wore it through choice and not simply succession.” He drew a long breath. “I believe the Inquisitor’s investigations would be best conducted without overmuch communication between him and the work of the Quiver and the Council, at least for a time being. Whatever interrogations are being performed, and in what manner, they are ��� for the moment – the purview of Lord Savin.” Soon, there would need to be a meeting to share information. But Theodore didn’t believe that rushing things would be of any use to anybody.

“Hmph,” Iann said, since the Prelate was technically right - the Inquisition’s investigation was separate from the Quiver and Council, particularly since everyone was suspects. Iann looked over at the Red Priestess, giving her a nod of acknowledgement. He laughed then though. “How poetic would it be, if Inquisitor Savin himself was the Raj-killer?” He said this, even though Iann knew full well he was the one who’d proposed Savin resume his role in the first place.

“Inquisitor Savin is … blessedly … without the capacity for persistent duplicity that this deed required. I’d imagine he’s all too relieved to have some task to occupy himself with in the Capital rather than spending his time longing to be back in the North, away from parlay and politicking.” Theodore gave a thin smile. “He’s possibly the least likely suspect. You’ll have to find your poetry elsewhere, I’m afraid, Prince Iann.”

“You see, Prelate - this is why people don’t like you,” Iann said in an arch tone. “You always have an answer for everything.”

Prelate Theodore considered this critique. “I don’t know any poems,” he offered. “Although I could try, if you needed me to be more infuriating.”

The Prelate did that owlish blinking thing where Iann couldn’t quite tell if he was being genuine or not. It was infuriating, but not in a bad way. “Please, spare your tongue the assault. If the Cloverry is charged once more with picking a new High Raj, at least I know the person to appeal to. Namely - any other Prelate but you.” He gave a short, curt bow. “Wind to your sails, Prelate.”

 “Fleet be your feet, Prince.”

[alittlestarling]

Welcome Home, Good Hunter

Their quest into the Hinterlands to meet with the rebel mages doesn’t go as planned and an upsetting discovery brings Roz and Vincent closer.

Read on Ao3

Part 1

Part 2: The Hinterlands

“Can you hear that?” Roz pulled gently on the reins of her mare as they crested over the final few hills, dipping lower into the valley.

“Hear what?” Vincent asked, her ever-constant companion in the last week as they made their way from the mountain pass and into the heart of Ferelden. Where Roz was uncertain in her riding, Vincent was a natural, murmuring gently in a foreign tongue that she didn’t know to soothe his steed as they trekked onward. The mere fact that he was there, that this wasn’t a fever dream, was still hard for Roz to believe. Staring was hard as well and she had tried to keep her gaze from lingering too long on him.

Instead, she smiled as she gazed out along the vast expanse before them. “Quiet,” she replied after a moment, relishing the sounds of nature instead of fighting that had so often surrounded them in these hills. With the encampments gone for both warring sides, the survivors in the Crossroads could enjoy a little peace before they rebuilt their lives in the hills.

Patting her mare along the side of her neck, Roz couldn’t stop herself from giving what might have been a far-too-early sigh of relief. Fewer fires to put out, less time placing themselves into the crosshairs of danger and more opportunities to see exactly what the people needed here.

What they truly needed.

Leading the way, Roz glanced over her shoulder as they trekked down the steep incline their horses seemed to take with greater ease and confidence than she would have. Vincent had, of course, come along, but he wasn’t the only one. Iron Bull held up the end of the group, shooting the breeze easily with Varric and, right in the middle, Vincent’s older brother, Rolfe, had been flirting with Cassandra at a steady clip since they left Haven.

Though they had only just begun to grow closer, Roz could tell that, despite the rebuffs and irritated sighs, Cassandra wasn’t completely indifferent to the lighthearted teasing and flirting Rolfe offered. Resistant, stubborn to admit it, but Roz didn’t think anything with Cassandra came particularly easily. Especially when it came to close relationships, not just romance.

“Do you think your brother will tire of flirting with Cassandra?” Roz leaned in conspiratorially, glancing back a moment to let her gaze linger over Rolfe riding alongside Cassandra.

“I doubt it,” Vincent had leaned in close, the warm scent of cedar and salt making her dizzy a moment. She tried not to think too hard as the pair of them shared a moment; his laugh was low, rumbling from his chest while Roz stifled a giggling snort before straightening along her saddle again.

“He has his work cut out for him,” Roz shook her head with a little laugh. “She’s a tough one to crack.”

“And my brother isn’t so easily dissuaded, so long as she hasn’t outright rejected him.”

“It doesn’t seem that way,” Roz snickered lightly but leaned back away from him, straightening once more. “I wouldn’t discount his chances just yet.” Besides, despite her tough exterior, Roz had caught a glimpse of what she had discovered was a rather delightfully dirty romance novel during their first night on the road to Redcliffe, sworn to secrecy once Cassandra realized her secret was out.

Without the threat of attack looming over them, the people of the Crossroads looked a little less world-worn, the weariness gone from their postures. Tents had been set-up for those still transitioning and efforts to rebuild homes that had burned in the fires were underway.

Even with their need to reach the rebels in the village, Roz couldn’t just leave without making sure things were doing alright.

“Rosalind,” Cassandra gently interjected as Roz finished dropping herbs off with a healer that had finally taken up residence in the small camp (with a quick chat about some tinctures that could be brewed with spindleweed that grew in abundance along the creek nearby), “we should make our way towards Redcliffe.”

“I know, I know,” Roz blew a small strand of red that had strayed from her usual braid, the small wispy hair refusing to stay put, “I just have a few more things to look into.” The caches had been marked, food was being distributed and the land may have been safer to hunt on now, but Roz felt the itch to simply do more. Their worlds had been torn apart, flipped off their axis, and if she couldn’t help with the smaller things, how could anyone trust her to help with some of the larger, more overwhelming tasks that stretched before her?

As if to counter her thoughts, her mark sparked and she curled her palm tightly into a fist to extinguish the green light that constantly haunted her.

Her mood soured slightly as she passed along a letter from a templar; despite her own, personal feelings towards the establishment, she wasn’t about to let anyone’s last words to someone they loved go without remark. Vincent noticed, stepping into stride behind her after she’d finished recruiting Ellandra to their cause.

“You seem troubled.” It was a statement rather than a question, an opening for Roz to speak her mind if she decided to. Finding the words, however, were hard, especially when her own feelings were a mixed bag these days.

“I don’t understand how anyone in the Circle could have a romance with a Templar,” she began, dropping her voice low, pausing to pluck fresh elfroot from standing water beside them. “All the Templars I knew were…well, no, let me start again.” Frowning, she started over, trying to find any shred of tact she had left for the order.

“Not all Templars were terrible, but enough of them knew how to abuse and use their powers to benefit themselves. I’ve seen too many of them remain passive while others held the leash over mages tighter than necessary.” An image unbidden came to mind, those last moments before Alderis was dragged away playing before her. She shook her head, as though she might be rid of them if she tried hard enough. “Perhaps she was lucky. I just can’t understand it.”

“The more I hear about the Circle, the less I like it,” Vincent commented gruffly. “I can’t imagine spending my life living in fear of my gifts.” He glanced to her, holding her gaze a long moment as he added, “And neither should you have gone through such a thing.”

“I survived it. Not everyone did.” Perhaps it was easier in the long-run to lie about her involvement with the rebellion, especially when it helped gain allies to continue to help them seek to bring peace to the regions once more. But it still stuck to her tongue, the bitter pill she had to swallow after lying to Ellandra about exactly where she stood with the rebellion. It was the one thing she didn’t say aloud in those moments, glancing about the Crossroads once more.

Peace, relative quiet and stability. They’d be alright for now. “Come on,” She turned, Vincent falling easily into step with her again, “Cassandra’s been eager to get to Redcliffe. As am I.”

As they mounted back onto their horses, Roz sent a quick prayer to the Maker, her own quiet hope a burning ember in her chest.

Maker, please, please, please, let me find friends among them.

“Something’s not right,” Varric was the first to comment once they’d made their way down to the docks along the lake. Roz’s mind was reeling, piecing together information that didn’t quite make sense. From the first moment they set foot in the village, Roz could feel the unease rolling off the villagers. They whispered behind their hands, eyes wide with uncertainty but that was expected, especially when she considered that they hadn’t anticipated the Inquisition to arrive there at all.

“I don’t understand it,” Roz murmured, playing with the folds of her tunic, pacing back and forth along the shoreline. “We saw Grand Enchanter Fiona in Val Royeaux,” She shot a quick glance to Cassandra and Varric. “I’m not imagining that, right?”

“No,” Cassandra agrees, her own expression grim, sitting on a nearby rock. “I saw her, too. There is something afoul here.”

“If we believe the ‘Vint,” Bull interjected with a dissatisfied grumble, “magic’s to blame.”

Roz closed her eyes tightly, lips pressed together in a thin line as she let out a huffing breath. “Perhaps,” she murmured after a moment, allowing herself to catch her temper in time. Bull, she was realizing the longer they traveled together, didn’t have a high opinion of magic. While she couldn’t discount his suspicion towards the Tevinter mage who had just happened to be there with a far-fetched explanation, she knew better than to write it off completely.

Nothing felt right here. Tevinter was on their doorstep, had indentured the Grand Enchanter herself and, if she believed that time had been altered? Well, the implications were too vast for her to name. She felt a headache coming on, pressing the bridge of her nose with a muted sigh.

“I don’t think you’re going to like my decision, Cassandra,” Roz turned to face the Seeker, pulling her into private conversation as the others peeled away from them.

“Oh?” Perhaps she was gruff and a little too blunt, but at least Roz knew she could be honest with Cassandra, regardless if they shared the same viewpoint on the situation. “And what would that be?”

“I don’t think we have time to seek out the Templars.” It was a relief, in a way, knowing that she wouldn’t be walking into the viper’s nest. Even with support, Roz couldn’t shake the fears that rested in her bones, the knowledge that she had often known through her life with the Order. “With everything we’ve seen today, we have to act, and soon, before things spiral out of control here.” If things fell apart here, it would spread; all the good they had done would be destroyed and the people they had helped would have to flee for their lives once more.

“I can see where you’re coming from,” Cassandra tilted her head, pausing as though to parse out a thought, “but I do not think we should act without the facts. And we do not have any facts from the Templars that abandoned their post in Orlais.”

“But how can they possibly help us close the breach?” Roz snapped back, “Shall we go chase down Lord Seeker Lucius, who I might remind you isn’t our biggest fan, and convince them to, what? Wave a sword at the breach? Compel it to close itself with the power of smite?” The comments clawed from her throat before she could stop them, pacing once again before the Seeker.

“I know what people say, how they view me and all others like me. They did in Orlais and they will do so again if I try to reach them. I know,” she held a hand out as Cassandra made a move to interrupt, stopping for Roz to continue, “not all of them, but enough of them seem against us. To them, we’re a danger that needs containing, a threat that needs to be brought to heel again.” Enough of them wanted to stop the Inquisition before Roz had found herself in the middle of it, never mind now that a mage had the gall to be “chosen” by Andraste.

“You should not judge the Order too harshly.” Cassandra added softly once Roz had finished rambling off all the reasons not to seek out the organization that did not want them.

“And yet that’s exactly what they do to me.” Roz offered a sad sort of smile, the truth of her words seeming to sink slowly into the Seeker. “I do not see that changing anytime soon, Cassandra, do you?”

Tense silence followed and, had they been given a moment longer, perhaps Cassandra would have come up with a different opinion, a new way of looking at things despite what Roz felt in her gut was true. The Templars weren’t the way to go and she just knew that it was a waste to leave things precariously as they were here.

Varric’s voice, however, broke the spell, calling out from down the shoreline. “Seeker, Rosebud, you two might want to see this.” Roz felt her own guard go up at the apprehension in his tone, taking careful strides away from the spot she’d been pacing to approach what she had assumed was an abandoned home along the water’s edge.

The moment she stepped inside, the very air seemed to change. Her breath caught in her throat at the sheer wrongness of it all. Magic rippled from the shelves, the strange whispering echoing in her ears that accompanied any discovery of the strange skulls in the countryside.

What she saw before her were those exact skulls. Dozens of them lining the walls, a few piled along the ground. A bundle of cracked and shattered skulls lay in the corner, abandoned in their lack of usefulness. A shiver ran down her spine, stuck in the doorway a moment longer before she dared to reach out. Her fingertips grazed across the nearby skull, snapping her fingers back quickly at a tingle that slithered down her hand upon contact.

Vincent wasn’t far, his own eyes gazing warily at the skulls before him. “Magic,” he muttered, their gazes meeting for a brief moment; Roz nodded in agreement, struggling to take another full breath as she turned.

“You’re right,” It was Rolfe, however, who found the answer, papers held firmly in his grip. “What do they mean by ‘tranquil’ in these papers?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Roz was dizzy, her stomach coiled and knotted, nausea rising up hard and fast along with horror and grief hot in pursuit. “No,” She whispered, her hands shaking as she reached out to touch the nearest skull. “Oh no, no, no, no.” Faces of those she had known flashed before her eyes, the unspeakable horror of this acting as a sinking pit in her stomach.

“Rosalind?” Vincent had a hand on her elbow as she swayed a moment. His touch was warm, grounding a moment as she turned to him, her mouth opening to try and find her words.

“Poor sods,” Varric murmured.

“Not like the Tranquil were doing much with ‘em.” Bull’s comment cut through the air and Roz felt all the breath leave her lungs with a sharp hiss. The grief, the sorrow, the anguish all burned swiftly into anger that she’d felt mounting since they arrived in the region. There was nothing gentle in her as she abruptly pulled away from Vincent and his comforting grasp on her. Instead, she whirled on Iron Bull with a snarl.

“You have no right to say those things,” Roz growled, heat rolling off her in waves. Despite their height difference, she walked to him, one finger against his chest, blue eyes hard as steel. “They were people. Their lives should have been their own. You do not get to judge them.” Her teeth gnashed together as she let out an angry huff, adding, “You are not better than them.”

Still shaking, she continued, “I’d think over my next words carefully, The Iron Bull.”

Tense silence followed and, had she been in a better mood, Roz would have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it. She was no match in height to him, aware that she barely came up to his chest. But he met her gaze levelly, his own expression hard (and, if she were right, a hint of surprise), neither of them moving from their spot.

“Boss.” He rumbled and the moment broke. Roz pulled away swiftly, turning on her heel.

“I’ve seen enough here. I’m done.” But there were words still unspoken, caught in her throat as she stepped back out into the open air. I don’t want to be here anymore.

For the first time in a long while, Roz let herself slump by the fire, the weight of the world pressing hard against her shoulders. Guilt and grief were warring internally as she wrapped her blanket tighter around her body. It didn’t fit all the way, made for a slim cot and not a plush body, but there was still something comforting in the act itself. As though she could make a cocoon of it, keeping the world at bay a moment longer instead of letting the chaos and the anger eat her from the inside out.

Exhaustion was a constant companion but sleep hadn’t come. Instead, Roz had pulled herself from her cot, slipping to sit by the fire. The sounds of Lake Luthias were almost comforting, the waterfall and chirping of crickets making the world seem a little softer and perhaps more peaceful than it felt in her mind.

Every single one of the skulls they had come across, each ocularum, was from a tranquil that had been killed. The thought made her sick, her stomach continuing to knot and roil in her gut. How many of them had they seen? How many had been lost when the Circles fell? Was he-

It was the one question she didn’t want to answer, squeezing her eyes shut to will the thought away. Spots blinked before her vision when she opened them again, disoriented for a brief moment. Any answer to her own lingering doubts would only add more guilt to her already troubled mind; no answer was better than the alternatives that were far more likely than the idea that he may have survived it all.

“May I join you?” Vincent’s voice murmured quietly from her side, causing Roz to jump. The blanket slipped a bit from her shoulders as she attempted to wrap it closer around her body again.

“If you like.” Running a hand across her face, letting the blanket slip again, she frowned into the fire. “I’m afraid you’re not seeing me on my best day,” Roz sighed apologetically, unable to lift her gaze from the fire. Everything felt like a constant fight the last few weeks, growing more and more apparent the last few days as the time to make a choice loomed ever closer on the horizon.

“You’re allowed to have feelings about it all, Roz,” Vincent reached out, a hand gently resting upon hers, “you’re only human.” The contact was brief, but she felt it again: a soft shiver rolled down her spine, but this was a pleasant sensation, as though stepping into a warm bath. It was gone as quickly as it came, her own expression confused before she shook her head.

“I don’t think that’s what they want from me.”

“Aye, but what do you want? It can’t just be about them and their needs. You’re the one they call Herald and you have more power than you think you have.”

Roz snorted, a ghost of a smile tracing her lips. “Don’t tell them that. I think the idea of a mage in power scares them, even if they don’t admit to it aloud.” She twisted, reaching for the blanket edge that kept slipping. Vincent reached for it instead, lifting it to her shoulder. The action paused in his hands, a frown shifting his features.

“They have you sleep with these scratchy things?” He questioned, experimentally rubbing the fabric between his fingers in obvious distaste. “How can you get comfortable with this scratchin’ and itchin’ at you all night long?”

“I’m certain they’re made to be more utilitarian than comfortable,” Roz commented dryly. “Honestly, I think the fact that we even have supplies really shows just how far we’ve- wait, where are you going?” Right in the middle of her sentence, Vincent stood abruptly. She watched with a strange curiosity as he moved away from the fire, all but stalking back towards the tent he had set up with Rolfe earlier in their evening.

Vanishing into his tent, he reappeared looking a little ruffled in the firelight, carrying something she couldn’t discern in his hands. “Here, this should be better.” He was careful with his movements, gently placing a sleek, soft pelt across her shoulders. Not before, he course, he helped pull the other blanket off of her.

“Oh.” Roz felt a sigh bubble up from her lips, marveling at the softness and the warmth that encompassed her effortlessly. “Maker, this is lovely.” She paused, adding softly, “Thank you. You didn’t have to-”

“Aye, I didn’t, but I wanted to.”

It was the earnestness that caught her off-guard; cynicism followed her every step when it came to anyone getting closer with her. The members of the Inquisition she was learning to trust, but part of her always wondered how much they wanted from her.

Roz pressed her cheek against the softness of the fur, closing her eyes again. “Still, thank you.”

The silence was interrupted only by the flowing water and crackling fire. Then, so softly, Vincent asked the question that had Roz’s stomach coiled in knots once again. “What does it mean to be made Tranquil?”

She didn’t speak for a few, long moments, eyes opened again as she stared into the fire. Her frown deepened as she tried to think of a way to explain it easily, but she knew there was no easy way to do that.

“If a mage is a danger to themselves or others, Templars have the choice to use the Rite of Tranquility upon them,” Roz murmured, bitterness lacing her words as she lifted her gaze from the fire, meeting his. “It means they are cut-off from the Fade. They become shells of themselves: docile, able to enchant, but unable to be who they once were.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “Not all who are made Tranquil are dangerous. I’ve seen it used as punishment as well.”

“So those skulls belonged to-”

“Mages who had been made Tranquil, yes.” Roz paused, her face screwed up in an attempt not to weep at the fresh onslaught of emotion that welled up in her throat. It was a wound that she didn’t know would heal, a scar that kept opening every time she thought it was closed.

Vincent met the statement with horrified silence, his own expression darkening in the glow of the fire. He muttered what Roz could only assume was a curse in his native tongue. “To be cut-off from your true self,” he muttered, “must certainly be a fate worse than death.”

“Yes,” Roz murmured, her voice thick as she pulled the pelt tighter around her shoulders, “it is. And to see them and know that they’re not truly there, all of their light just…gone.” She swallowed hard again, letting out a shaky breath.

“You’ve known those made Tranquil.” Another statement of fact came gently from his lips and Roz swore she could feel his gaze on her as she stared directly into the fire.

“Yes,” She whispered, blinking back tears unsuccessfully. “Some I didn’t know very well, but others…” She trailed off a moment, brushing a hand across her cheek with a sniffle. “Someone I loved was made Tranquil.” It was the one story she had never truly told amongst her new companions, uncertain how to even begin. But Vincent reached out, tentatively, his hand resting over hers.

“You don’t have to tell me,” He reassured her gently, “if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” Roz gave him a watery smile, “but I think I want to.” The truth was a hard burden to bear alone and, even though she knew this changed nothing of what had happened, there was a small part that needed to simply speak the words into existence.

“His name was Alderis, and I loved him desperately.” And so she spoke, weaving the story in soft tones about her mentor who had turned into her dear friend and then lover. How smart he had been, how passionate about their freedoms, how kind he had been to her and others.

“He wanted our freedom as much as anyone in the Circle,” Roz confided, “and perhaps not all of his methods would have been viewed upon with kindness from the Chantry.” Blood magic never was, but that was part of her story that she kept tucked away. “Suspicions were flying and everyone was tense in the Circle in the weeks leading up to it. In the end, I think it was easiest to make Alderis an example, if not to stop him from preaching of just what we might gain from autonomy and life outside the Circle.”

Those last moments Roz knew she’d never forget. The classroom where they were working with a few of the newly Harrowed students before the door was shoved open. Alderis had been smiling a moment before they grabbed him, the Templars showing no mercy as Roz surged forwards. She’d been stopped and charges were laid at their feet.

“I don’t know why I was spared yet he was not.” Her voice dropped so softly, shaking her head as a few errant tears slipped down her cheeks. “None of it made sense.” She had her suspicions that her mentor, Lydia, had kept her from the same fate, but that had meant little when faced with the results of the rite done on Alderis. Blank eyes, a monotone voice and the mark on his forehead for everyone to see.

Taking up his mantle in the search for their freedoms had seemed easy comparably. Her grief had turned to rage and resolution in the face of rebellion.

“I heard few survived the uprising at Ostwick. I don’t know if he or the others found their way out.” Roz had planted the seeds, pulled away to the Conclave when her friends and comrades in arms rose up against the Templars. The story had been spun to sound peaceful, as though a compromise had been sought by both sides. It was an effort to keep the peace; Roz knew the truth, though, clutching tight the hope that her students and friends had made their way from that place in one piece.

His hand squeezed hers, fingers gently lacing between hers to hold tightly to her. “That sounds like it’s been a heavy burden to carry, Rosalind.” And that was the truth, murmured to her by the campfire, thousands of miles from the only place she had known as home. She let out a sharp, soft laugh, bitter and sorrowful as she sniffed hard again against more tears.

“Sometimes I prefer to think he died that day when they cut him from the fade,” Roz admitted, her features twisted again in grief as she continued in a broken whisper, “It was kinder to me, as selfish as it sounds. I’d rather remember him with life and passion. I can cherish his memory of what was rather than what they made him.”

“If you found him tomorrow, would you still care for him the same way as before?” He asked her and the question had her pause, deep in thought as she stared at the fire.

“I don’t know. Maybe? Or maybe not?” There were too many factors at place in her mind, wondering exactly how she might react to finding him again after all that had happened. “In the end, I feel he was a dear friend to me, a companion to share ideas with. If he were alive, if I found him, I would want to make sure he was safe and cared for, not left to the whims of the world and those who would exploit him.” She swallowed hard, adding softly, “I’d owe him that much.”

Alderis had given her hope, a spark that had grown into a fire that burned inside her. There would always be an ache for what could have been or what she could have done, but nothing could change that. And, while she wouldn’t say it aloud, Roz had long since come to peace that nothing could sway her from the path she walked now. She had been willing to die for the rebellion, yet she had been offered the chance to live and see parts of it some to fruition.

It wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but it was a start.

They sat in quiet, his hand still intertwined with hers. His thumb rubbed soft, soothing circles along the back of her hand, a gentle comfort that left her with feelings she couldn’t quite put to words. And maybe now wasn’t the time to do it, not with her emotions raw as they were.

There was relief in having shared though, a wave of it washing over her with a suddenness. There were tears again as she leaned against Vincent’s shoulder, her cheek pressed against him, but there was no sorrow in them this time. His hand slipped free and Roz nearly pulled back, afraid she’d overstepped, but instead he tucked her close, an arm resting gently at her shoulder.

“Thank you for listening,” Roz murmured thickly against his shirt.

“Of course, Rosalind,” He whispered against the crown of her head, “of course.”

Roz didn’t remember going back to bed, but she woke with the pelt still tucked gently around her. She pressed her nose against it, breathing it in, her heart feeling lighter than it had in months. The sounds of the camp waking up and the scent of rashers being cooked on the fire were enough to draw her from the tent at last. An idea had struck her late in the night that wouldn’t leave her alone, swiftly rubbing the last winks of sleep from her eyes as she exited her tent.

“Iron Bull,” Roz called, arms wrapped tightly around herself, “can you come with me?”

They walked in slightly awkward silence; it wasn’t a long trek back to the ledge, but the moment seemed to linger on and on. Roz knew she didn’t want to apologize for getting mad, but she didn’t want to leave things as they were. Instead, she had a different idea.

The skull sat upon the strangely carved pedestal at the edge, the faint whisperings of magic brushing against her ears.

“What do you need, Boss?”

Roz tilted her head a moment, gesturing to the skull. “I need you to help me get this unstuck.” She blew a strand of hair from her face, adding quietly, “I don’t think I’m strong enough physically to get it to move without a little help.” When she used them, they only rotated so far and never had she been able to shift and adjust it. With her smaller hands to pry it a bit and Bull’s strength, she assumed they might make a go of it.

The request seemed to surprise Bull, who raised a brow and then nodded. “Sure.”

As she had predicted, the effort took both pairs of hands to remove it. Roz whispered some ice magic into her fingertips, turning the base brittle in an attempt to get it off without completely shattering the skull. There was a small crunch before Bull had it in his hands, finally, after a few minutes of their work.

Bull held the skull aloft a moment, the light filtering through it a moment, magic slowly dissipating from it once it had been removed from its place. Only when it dulled again did he hold it to her, letting her gently lift the skull from his palms. Roz wished she knew how to describe how she felt to him, the hurt that came with the discovery, the pain at knowing that she may have known these people. She swallowed hard though, cradling it close to her.

“You told me about Seheron,” she began softly, meeting his gaze with misty eyes, “and the people you lost. Know the pain that you felt, the kind that led you to the Re-educators, is the same pain I’m feeling right now. I wish I didn’t know this, but I do and I have to live with it.” There was no turning back from this new information, no pretending it didn’t exist or changing how they discovered the cabin. Now she knew and she could try to do something good with it.

“I get it, Boss,” Bull rubbed the back of his shaved head. But even the spy didn’t have the right words to truly encompass everything Roz was feeling or to untangle the complications that surrounded her heart in that moment.

“What’s done is done,” Roz intoned gently, “and now we can move forward.” She gazed back out to the expanse of the land that stretched out before them from the spot. “I don’t want their deaths to be in vain. We continue to pull the shards from the field, but after we’ve marked their locations we take the skulls and give them a proper burial. They deserve that.” She didn’t know how or where, but they would be laid to rest.

Bull had a hand resting between her shoulder blades, a weight that pulled her from the depths of her emotions. There was a moment, soft and quiet as she smiled at him sadly. “Some of our brightest were made this way. I hope something like this doesn’t have to happen again. I hope to change it.” Perhaps the pair of them would never see eye-to-eye, but an understanding passed between them as she walked back into the camp, finding a spot for the skull and a map marked with the locations of the others in the region.

“I’ll only be a few moments,” Roz argued with Cassandra as the pair of them trekked up the sloping incline to the top of the lake, “I don’t need an escort to gather spindleweed and blood lotus.” They’d be leaving the region soon enough and Roz already knew the Adan would appreciate more stocks to add to his stores back in Haven. She had her own concoctions to test out, but first she needed ingredients to work with beyond what they’d already gathered.

“It’s no trouble,” Cassandra followed dutifully behind Roz as they crested the hill. The banks of the lake were teeming with plant life and Roz was careful each time she stepped further to the water’s edge to gather what she needed.

Lost in her own thoughts, Roz hummed gently to herself as she plucked and picked and moved closer to the edge of the waterfall. Their camp was well within sight and there was a soft swell of encouragement to see most of their party relaxing in the late morning sunlight.  And then her gaze drifted to the lake below.

“Oh.” Nearly dropping her satchel, Roz felt all the breathe leave her lungs, eyes wide as she caught sight of the brothers below. The mist and water kept much shrouded from her eyes, but there was quite a lot for her to see. And, Maker, it was a sight that she couldn’t help but drink in.

Both brothers, swimming and splashing in the lake below. Completely and utterly naked.

“Roz, what have you-” Cassandra began but Roz grabbed the Seeker’s arm to tug her down and out of sight before they could be spotted in their peeking.

“Shh!” Roz jerked her head down, unable to stop the rising heat in her cheeks as she glanced back down at the bare forms of Vincent and Rolfe in the water.

To her surprise, Roz caught Cassandra blushing when she realized exactly what they were watching. “Oh!”

“Yes.” Roz let out a slow, shaky breath, her eyes tracing the whorls and tattoos that decorated Vincent’s chest and shoulder. She had seen some peeking out from under his clothing, but nothing with quite so much detail as she saw in the moment. Water dripped down Vincent’s shoulders, flexing and stretching as he swam away from Rolfe’s splashing. It was innocent, playful as the brothers sent water flying at one another, Rolfe’s baritone laugh and an undignified squawk from Vincent when he was dunked under.

She swore softly, swallowing hard. “I…Andraste’s frilly knickers, we shouldn’t be doing this, should we?”

“Probably not,” Cassandra muttered, though she made no move to leave just then. Despite her own apparent indifference towards Rolfe when they were together, the Seeker was very quiet now, her eyes fixed on Rolfe below. Roz glanced to Cassandra and then back down to the lake below.

There wasn’t any harm in this. It wasn’t like they planned to do it again. She cleared her throat, settling down, allowing herself a few moments longer to enjoy the view and the wild workings of her imagination. Cassandra broke the silence with a gruff murmur.

“We’ll never speak of this to anyone.”

“You have my word.”

[ruffsficstuffplace]

The Keeper of the Grove (Part 23)

The terms of Weiss’ parole were surprisingly simple:

One, she could only freely move around in the Bastion, and could not exit the walls of the city or travel to any of the many other settlements in the Viridian Valley without Ruby and an additional escort consisting of Penny and Blake, or just Qrow.

Two, she’d have to get a job, or at the very least, prove that she was being useful to the Fae in some way. Glynda recommended joining the Watchers—the “Order” that was a combination police force, army, and forest rangers—but Weiss was going to take her chances with other work that didn’t involve putting life and limb at risk, and whose legitimate claims for hazard pay included “Partially Eaten By Predators.”

And three, she’d have to live with Ruby and Qrow at their home, where Blake and Penny also happened to be staying.

There were other small details and nuances such as the fact that like most citizens, she had restricted access to “the Codex”--the Fae’s storage for every single piece of data and information they’ve ever collected since they first became sentient and organized—being forced to learn Actaeon for everyone’s benefit, and being tested for something Penny translated as “the Gift” after a month's time or so.

“This is… actually a whole lot less than I was expecting!” Weiss said as she sat in Glynda’s office.

“What were you expecting?” Glynda replied from behind her desk. “Tracker collars? Constant watcher escorts? Being forced to have a Governor installed and all your thoughts and memories regularly uploaded to the Codex? You’re a hostage, Schnee, not Public Enemy #1.”

Weiss nodded. “It’s just with who my father was and all...”

“That was your father,” Glynda said. “If we based all of our decisions and judgments entirely on your lineage and the actions of your ancestors, then the Fae would have extincted themselves long ago from nepotism, incompetency, and old grudges.

“Though I must warn you that there’s always an element of it in many organizations and social interactions.”

Weiss sighed. “I’m not surprised...”

“Fae and human society are not that different, Schnee. When you really get down to it, we’re all just animals working together to make better lives for ourselves, and the ones we love and care about.”

“I figured when I saw someone forwarding funny cat videos to their kids on Storybook.”

Glynda nodded. “Indeed. Do you have any other pressing questions? If it's anything regarding Fae society in general, specific terms, or cultural attitudes—'the ropes,' so to speak— you can just ask Qrow or Penny; its their job as Chroniclers.”

“Just one: how do you know Nivian so well?” Weiss asked.

“I did as those that are keeping your Old World's Tongues alive: I studied it, I immersed myself in it, and I used it frequently with others who spoke Nivian better than I. I suggest you find something entertaining to enjoy; our industries may not be as robust or prolific as you humans, but it's still there.”

“You learned Nivian through cartoons?”

“Yes. I'm particularly fond of the one with the rabbit who keeps outsmarting his human hunter, among other antagonists,” Glynda said with a straight face.

Weiss sniggered. “I'll just be going now, Elder Goodwitch,” she said as she slipped out of her chair.

Glynda's nose twitched. “Please, try your best to make the reasons of our next meeting much more positive,” she said coolly.

Weiss nodded before she turned around and made haste to leave.

A little after the door was shut behind her, Glynda sighed. “Should of turned left at Albuquerque...” she muttered to herself.

Outside, Weiss finally burst into laughter, clutching her sides as her eyes watered with tears. Glynda's small army of secretaries and assistants mostly ignored her, but their supervisor glared at her. Weiss gave them an apologetic look, got some tissues to clean up, and made for the waiting room.

Blake was on one of the benches, quietly reading a book. Qrow sat beside her nursing a wooden container of locally produced alcohol, discretely sipping from it when the avian “security camera” wasn't looking at him. Penny was standing and smiling, the glow of her eyes and arms dimmed to show that she was on standby mode.

Ruby stopped pacing around the area and ran up to her, almost crashing into Weiss. She tilted forward for a moment, Weiss leaned way back to avoid getting poked by her antlers. Ruby quickly fell back on the balls of her feet and asked:

“Well? How'd it go?”

“If I understand it correctly…” Weiss smiled. “I'm mostly free!”

Ruby cheered. “Yay! Congratulations, Weiss!”

Weiss yelped as she suddenly hugged her, dodged her head to the side and just narrowly avoided getting butted with her horns.

Ruby quickly pulled away and looked sheepishly at her. “Sorry...” she muttered.

Weiss sighed. “Just warn me the next time, alright?”

Ruby nodded. “I will!”

“Got any more business here, Princess?” Qrow asked as he got up. “I mean, we're all on the clock and getting paid to guard you until you get out of the Tree, but babysitting duty doesn't have the best time/profit investment compared to everything else we could be doing.”

Weiss shook her head. “Are you all seriously going to leave me alone as soon as I'm out the door, just like that?”

“Yep!” Ruby replied. “Because I, your Parole Watcher, trust you,” she hummed

<Try not to get eaten by a guard wolf, or fall out of a tree and to your death while we're not around,> Blake said with a straight face.

Weiss frowned and looked to Penny.

“Do you want a rough translation of her exact words, or the essence of what she said?” Penny asked. “The latter is much faster.”

“Gist,” Weiss replied.

“Blake confirmed your suspicion, and wishes for you to stay safe,” Penny hummed.

The both of them could tell that wasn't exactly what she meant, but they let it slide.

“I would like to add that the Bastion may be the safest city in all of the Viridian Valley, but the Valley is not exactly the safest place in general, so please, always be on your guard for the numerous dangers that lurk here!”

Weiss frowned. “Like what, exactly?”

“Mutated wildlife and plants, mostly,” Qrow replied. “All that raw magic just floating around, escaped Maker experiments and work animals getting freaky with the natives, plus the unforeseen long-term consequences of science projects from the past tend to have some pretty interesting effects.”

“Don't worry though, Weiss!” Ruby said. “If there's one part of my job I'm great at, it's making sure the populations are in check, so no one gets killed and/or eaten by wild animals—so long as they stay within the border walls, at least, because otherwise I'd never have time for anything else!”

“So in case it wasn't obvious, you'd best stay in until you've toughened up a lot and got yourself some decent gear,” Qrow added. “The critters lurking out there will fuck anyone's shit up.”

“And that's terrifying, along with being really gross and confusing!” Ruby added.

Weiss shuddered. “Relax: I'm never going to step foot outside the gates if I can help it. I'm a city girl, anyway.”

“Yeah, but you're not in Candela anymore,” Qrow murmured.

<Hey, sorry for butting in, but can we please go now?> Blake asked. <Some of us have to work to eat.>

They made their way out of the Tree of Life, stopping only to pick up a care package for Weiss.

True to their word, Qrow and Blake split from the group the moment Weiss had both feet out of the entrance.

She didn't mind; not having them around made the sweet feeling of finally being (mostly) free all the better. She stepped into a less shaded patch of sunlight and felt its warmth on her skin, sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, before she gagged and choked on the cumulative scent of so many citizens and animals who spent more time outdoors and working than in the hot springs.

“Don't worry, Weiss!” Penny said. “I can say with confidence that your biology will eventually get used to the unique aroma of Fae cities—in time, you won't even notice it!”

Weiss pulled the fabric of her dress up to her nose, then pulled it back down when the breathable fabric did nothing to hide the smell. “Let's just go to wherever my new home is...” she grumbled. “Where do you live, anyway?”

“Pretty far from here!” Ruby replied. “But don't worry: since you're no longer a hostage, you can use the Tubes like we do!”

“The Tubes?” Weiss asked.

“It's--” Penny started, before Ruby grabbed her and stopped her.

“It's better if you see it for yourself,” Ruby said, smiling.

Weiss had a sinking feeling about it, but it wasn't like she had much of a choice.

They walked to the nearest “station,” an extremely short distance away considering the Tree of Life was the Bastion's version of a city hall, among other things. As they walked up to it, Weiss noticed that they were getting closer and closer to some of the massive aqueducts, to a joint that exited in multiple directions. The center of it had three workers, one monitoring a terminal, the other two helping passengers in and out of what looked like wooden tubes with unfolding covers.

Her eyes widened as the pit of her stomach fell. “We're not seriously going to...”

“Yep!” Ruby chirped. “Don't worry, Weiss, it's super safe and such a rush, too! Oh, and just so you know, never take the Tubes if you've just eaten, and especially if you're still eating. Trust me on this, neither of them are good combinations.”

Weiss turned to Penny. “What are the chances of me dying in a freak Tubing accident?”

“Almost completely zero!” Penny chirped. “Not including the first few months of its implementation several hundred years ago, the Tubes are the safest mode of transportation in any Fae settlement. It's been 5 years since the last accident, but even then, the passengers were physically unharmed if traumatized, and the cause was a sudden earthquake that also interfered with many other parts of the Bastion's infrastructure.”

“We build our cities with the intention of making them last forever and stand against almost anything you can throw at them, Weiss,” Ruby said as they fell in line. “You'll be fine.”

Weiss didn't reply, and quietly wondered that if the Keeper of the Grove was real, was the Holy Shepherd's supposedly divine powers true, too?

She didn't reach a conclusion by the time the made it to the front of the line—the Tubes were also very efficient, it seemed. Ruby had gone first to demonstrate how it was done, and Penny had allowed herself to be partially disassembled to show just how secure the cargo hold for a “Log” was.

The both of them smiled at her before the lid was closed, but fact that Penny's head had been detached from the rest of her body rather ruined any reassurance they intended.

<First time, kid?> one of the workers asked, holding up a clawed finger.

Weiss nodded meekly.

<Just close your eyes and keep your mouth shut,> he said and mimed as his companion secured her care package into the cargo hold.

“Thanks,” Weiss whispered.

She was loaded into the tube, ramrod straight on her back. It felt like she was being put in a particularly spacious coffin, and the fact that they were strapping five belts over her body—on her feet, her knees, her waist, her chest, and finally across her forehead—didn't help.

The worker smiled, gave her a two-finger salute, and closed the lid. She heard it click securely shut, the grates above her head and by her feet open, and the sound of gently trickling water turn into a deafening roar.

And then, she was off.