"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help," Lana passed the bottle back to Hawke who frowned as infectiously as she smiled. Only Anders breathed a sigh of relief at her refusal, more than likely afraid his old Commander would make good on her promise of ending him. It was only bluster, Lana was far too exhausted to bother enacting justice on him. And, deep in her heart, she doubted she could raise a blade to him. He was one of hers once, for good or ill.
Hawke cradled the vial and sighed, "That's not what I was expecting to hear, but I guess you have big warden things to do. Why you'd come down here alone and all. Saving the world and shit. Been there, done that, then kinda blew it up again."
Lana bobbed her head at the babble, then she glanced back at the vial. It was small, but there was an artistry to the design of such a simple thing. Someone took the time to make it instantly noticeable. The bottle's familiarity finally struck her and she had to ask, "Where did that come from?"
"Oh that?" Hawke shrugged, her frown already slipping back to her resting smile, "Kirkwall. Some of the templars there were taking it instead of the regular blue flavor. Might still be for all I know."
Kirkwall? Templars! Lana snatched up the bottle and lifted it to the pale light of the dwarven runes. Yes, it was the same as the ones the Free Marcher templars used, even bore the seal of the chanty upon the top. Maker's breath, what did he get himself into? She'd wanted to go to Kirkwall after news of the chantry explosion reached the shores of Amaranthine along with boats overloaded with refugees but it was deemed unwise. A powerful mage walking the streets of Kirkwall days after one destroyed the chantry; she'd only cause more panic than solve. Still, it took her seneschal and even Ali...the King of Ferelden to talk her down from it.
Hawke watched her inspecting the bottle anew and cocked an eyebrow, "Does this mean you'll help?"
What were the templars doing with this? What was it doing to them? Andraste's tears, if Cullen had somehow blighted himself she might be the only hope he had left. Gripping the vial tight, Lana turned to Hawke, "Tell me everything you know about this red lyrium."
TO BE CONTINUED in MY TEMPLAR
My Templar
When the Hero of Ferelden agreed to help Hawke solve the mystery of the red lyrium she never thought it'd draw her into the grasp of the Inquisition and back into Cullen's life. When the world's falling down around her and her own blood is trying to kill her, she knows she has no right to rekindle what they began in the deep roads. Then why can't she stop thinking about him?
Chapter One
Surprise Anew
Ice coalesced around Lana's fist as she faced down the elf daring enough to bypass the wards on her cave. He only cocked his head to the side from her threat, his mouth drawn in concentration. The daggers on his back remained sheathed but she knew the tightening of the muscles, the warning it carried. With a wiry body, the elf dressed himself in finer leathers than most human's she knew. Certainly better than the typical bandits of Crestwood. His grey eyes struck through her and dared her to make a move.
"Wait!" Hawke's voice echoed through the cave, "Don't get all magic icy stabs! I brought the Inquisitor."
Behind the elf, a human stumbled in - his own hand threading in a signature purple sparkle. His shoulder was exposed despite the eternal rains of Crestwood, but that fact didn't seem to bother him much judging by the smirk implanted on his face. A blonde elven woman slipped in next, her eyes zipping across Lana, back to her bow, the threatening mage again, then across the cave. She seemed uncertain of anything save the arrow notched and aimed at Lana's chest. Off to a great start so far. Anyone else want to murder you today?
Oh Maker, she sighed, knowing all too well the dwarf smirking next to Hawke. Of course she'd bring him. Varric and Hawke were like cookies and milk. You couldn't have one around without the other spilling all over the floor. Lana tried to not roll her eyes as the dwarf tipped his head at her in greeting. The last time they saw each other had been under less than fiery circumstances - a moment in her life she wished to forget.
Lana shook away the magic, heat returning to her fist as the energy dissipated, and she extended a hand to the elf. He watched her with caution, then took it. "I am Solona Amell, the Hero of Ferelden."
The human mage blinked his watery eyes in surprise while the blonde woman squeaked and tried to leap away. Her panic squeals were reminiscent of that first nug Lana got for Leliana. Only Varric and Hawke remained unimpressed from the title. Hawke slipped her elbow on top of Varric's head to aid her lean, but the dwarf didn't blink. Theirs was a curious friendship.
The Inquisitor nodded softly either unaware of who Lana was, or having already surmised as such. It was hard to tell with the Dalish, they liked to play distant observers living in the woods while picking your brain for everything you knew. His cautious eyes darted back to the party behind him, taking a momentary pause at the human man, before landing back on the warden of the hour. "We need your help."
Lana surveyed the people one last time. Hawke had promised her an army, or as close to one as a renegade warden could get without a blight to force noble's hands. She'd scrabbled together fighting forces from the most unlikely of places by cracking open rocks to find the gems within, but a power radiated off these four. This might be her only hope. "And I need yours."
The Inquisitor folded his hands, the fingers knotting together as he leaned back, but it was the dwarf that spoke next.
"The Champion of Kirkwall, the Hero of Ferelden, and the Inquisitor banding together," Varric said, patting that crossbow of his. "That sound you just heard was thedas clenching its collective sphincters."
* * *
Lana'd seen her fair share of estates, keeps, castles, strongholds, fortresses, and any other fancy term you wanted to throw around for a heavily fortified area with its own drawbridge. But Skyhold was something else. An unsettling power undulated from the tips of the stone running the lengths of the tallest battlement down into the bones of the mountain itself. She felt it as she trekked across the drawbridge, Hawke grinning at her side. There was no particular reason for the exuberance, Hawke was always smiling. It was a quirk of her cousin Lana grew used to over time if she didn't stop and think about it often.
"This place feels ancient," Lana said while dragging her fingers across the mortar.
Hawke snorted, "Looks better than the last time I was here. Hey! I think they got the tavern all set up. We should check it out and see if there are any 'perfectly legal' games to crash."
"The last time we did that..." Lana began. Hawke batted her concerns away, as if her cousin wasn't the one missing a tooth because of it.
"Merciful Andraste." A sweet Orlesian accent rang like a bell through the courtyard. Lana twisted around and spotted Leliana all but running across the grounds towards her.
"Game will have to wait, cousin," Lana whispered to Hawke before turning to Leliana. She'd heard whispers of her old friend turning more sullen and inward over the intervening years, but a beam of sunlight brightened Leliana's face as she wrapped Lana in a hug.
"I'd lost all track of you and feared the worst. What were you doing in Crestwood of all places?"
"I missed you too, Leliana," Lana said while patting her friend's back. Leliana's chainmail bit through her far more unassuming attire. She never wore the grey warden stuff save for the rare trek to the Anders. Lana even abandoned her old mage robes miles back as wary farmers and merchants eyed up anyone thought to be a renegade mage. Now she wore the traveling outfit of any unaffiliated messenger; brown trousers, a green tunic, and a soft velvet vest. There were leather bits knotted here and there around her arms and waist but nothing in her attire screamed "Once Commander of the Grey." Barely anyone deigned a glance in Lana's direction unless Hawke stood beside her. It was hard to miss the Champion, some of which was due to her incessant need to wear the pointy Champion armor. And most was because that at over six feet tall and built like she could deadlift a dragon, Hawke was a living distraction before she even opened h
er mouth.
Leliana released her grip on Lana and stepped back. The smile wiped away to a neutral frown, her crystal eyes hardening as she surveyed her old friend. She absently tugged her lilac hood lower over her eyes. "What has occurred with the grey wardens? They vanished leaving no trace. Even your Vigil's Keep seemed abandoned."
"That..." Lana glanced around Skyhold. There was no reason to think there'd be any warden spies lurking about. She didn't feel the tug of the blight beyond her own veins, but after two weeks of keeping one step ahead of Clarel's thugs Lana wasn't about to take any chances. "We should talk in private about that."
"Of course, you should meet the other advisors. The Inquisitor..."
"Is back in Crestwood. Bandits, something something, undead, something something, rifts, something something, death ah! stabs. The usual," Hawke interrupted in her booming voice.
"I see," Leliana eyed up the Champion before slipping a hand around Lana's arm. The Spymaster guided Lana towards what must be the great hall of the hold. Skyhold was in a state, with craftsmen and servants bustling about in honor of some big todo. Hammers and whisks were both in evident as the underbelly of power required an eternal going over. Lana tried to ask Leliana about what stirred the nest but her friend was in a surprisingly silent mood. A few people scattered at the sight of their Spymaster slipping through the halls, then more pointed and gawked at Hawke. Lana tried to shrink lower into the collar of her shirt while Hawke waved vigorously at a dwarf perched upon scaffolding.
"Friend of yours?" Lana asked.
"I have no idea," Hawke answered pumping her hand in the air.
Leliana led them through a back hall and past an abandoned desk beside a warm fire. She stopped at a massive door and gazed out at the winter snows upon the mountains. It wasn't a window so much as a break in the wall itself. Though, that might sort of count as a window. A question for architect philosophers. Leliana gestured to a bile of bricks scattered along the floor, "We are still at work repairing the hold."
"Gotta murder all the slavers first, am I right?" Hawke said. Leliana shot a question at Lana, but she shrugged. It was rare for Lana to understand all of what her cousin said. The Champion dipped down and picked up one of the tumbled bricks. Towering over both of them, she slotted it into place and smiled. The winds knocked against the edge, and the brick promptly slipped through the not-window and landed outside with a crack. "Sorry about that," Hawke grimaced.
Leliana coldly eyed up the Champion but only murmured, "It is no mind." Yanking open one of the two massive doors, Leliana ushered them into the room of the map. They probably had a better name for it, but the main feature was a table fit for a feast but covered in a map of all of thedas. A pair stood beside it bickering over one pick lost amongst a dozen others. The woman in gold wore that painted smile of a diplomat who could destroy your life far greater and easier than any assassin. And the other...
Lana's feet ground to halt. She blinked her eyes and shook her head a few times to dislodge the illusion, but it was still him. Here. Alive. In the flesh. Thinking about flesh was not helping.Hawke stumbled into the back of Lana, then grabbed onto her cousin's shoulders to steady herself. She hadn't thought of him in... A twist knotted her stomach as the memory of an unexpected but not unwanted dream answered the question for her. He never seemed to stray too far from her thoughts no matter where she wound up in thedas. Except for...
"You didn't tell me about Cullen," Lana whispered to her cousin.
Hawke shrugged, then bellowed in the closest she came to a whisper, "Forgot, I guess."
That drew the attention of the woman in gold and the man she never imagined she'd see again. Cullen blinked his eyes slowly at Hawke, then his sight traveled down to the mage in the warrior's grasp. Color drained from his cheeks and he shook his head. When that didn't cause Lana to vanish, he gripped onto the table and struggled for a few deep breaths. Lana smiled weakly at him before Leliana snapped her attention away.
"Our Warden has arrived ahead of the Inquisitor," Leliana announced.
"Delightful timing. I am Josephine Montilyet, chief diplomat of the Inquisition," the woman in gold grabbed up a board off the table and began to attack it with a sharpened feather. "And this is Commander Cullen," she gestured to him with her quill, but didn't turn to him. Thank the Maker, she missed the commander still staring at his hands and blinking rapidly to make sense of this world. "Who," Josephine readied her quill above her board, "might I ask, are you?"
"I, uh," Lana tried to shake off the blush climbing up her backside, "Solona Amell, but please call me Lana."
"Lana is it?" Leliana smirked, their camaraderie picking up as if never dropped, "What happened to Lanny?"
"What do you think happened to it?" Lana cut back. She didn't mean for the venom in her voice, but the wound was still fresh no matter how much dirt she tried to kick in it. Leliana watched her anew, a cold dissection slicing up Lana.
"Solona A..." Josephine's quill paused, "Amell. Lady Amell? The, you're the Hero of Ferelden? That's the Warden you knew?" she asked the Champion.
Hawke shrugged, "Sure, we're family after all!"
"I..." Josephine strode forward and extended her hand to Lana, "My lady, it is an honor to meet you."
"Uh," Lana took the hand and gripped it tight. "Please, it's not really, I don't want to cause a fuss."
"A woman of such esteem requires, I will have to rethink everything!" Josephine suddenly switched gears, her quill jabbing into the margins of her board. "A feast is necessary of course, and, oh dear, all the state rooms are currently occupied. What if we moved Duke Confort to..."
"Josie," Leliana admonished softly, pulling the ambassador out of her tizzy.
"What? What is wrong?" Josephine glanced from Leliana back to Cullen. The Commander had just enough sense to turn his attention back to the map to bury the shock yet camped on his face.
"I'll explain later," Leliana said, tipping her head.
"Lana's on the run from the wardens," Hakwe blurted out.
The Commander's amber eyes snapped up at that, his hand brushing across the hilt of his sword. Maker, she'd missed those little wrinkles across his brow and down his nose when determination set in.
"I am on the outs with the wardens but, it's a bit more complicated than that. The order's machinations are being kept from all save those closest to Clarel. I need to show you some..." Lana took a step forward towards the big map when the pounding below her skin rose up from its beaten back depths. She twisted on her ankle and would have fallen in front of the best of the Inquisition if Hawke had not caught her around the arms.
Josephine and Cullen both dashed to her, but it was Leliana that halted them. "I am assuming that you did not come to Skyhold under ease. Perhaps it would be best to take some time and get you acclimated to the area before we begin speaking of the wardens."
"A tour," Josephine exclaimed.
"I had something else in mind first," Leliana said. It was probably Lana's imagination, but she shuddered from the way her old friend's eyes glittered in cold mischief.
Chapter Two
Baths
Freezing water poured down her exposed back as the she-devil dumped a second bucket. "Stop. Doing. That!" Lana gritted through chattering teeth. She hopped back and forth on her bare feet, splashing more mud against her frozen skin.
"I'm done with the first round of rinsing. Now we need to be getting to the scrubbing. Here!" The horrendous creature who tried to pass for human hurled a bar of soap over the wooden wall of the hastily assembled bath house. It bounced off Lana's shoulder and scattered to the grass. Unable to bend over in such a tight space, Lana bent her knees and hunted the soap out blindly. It was cheap for certain, the smell of lye overpowering and it looked like some gravel worked its way into the mix.
Sighing, Lana tried to lather the bar against her frozen skin but the soap was in no mood. The best it could bother were a few bubbles before giving up the ghost entirely and leaving a slimy film down
her flesh. She did get a lovely abrasion down her stomach from the gravel though.
"This soap is impossible," Lana sighed. She chucked it back over the partition at the woman's head.
The creature from beyond the void caught it in one hand and threw the soap into a bucket. The ringing caused the nearby horses to whinny from their beds, stamping and snorting at the mage who kept shrieking during their afternoon feeding. It also pulled even more attention from wandering soldiers to the woman being bathed in the midst of their stables. And to think Lana once thought Leliana was too sweet for her own good. She should have listened closer to Marjoline.
The she-beast unearthed a brush as long as her arm and drug it across Lana's back. It had to be made from unfinished nails pounded into the back of a splintered log. Lana shrieked and leapt a good foot in the air, almost causing her to pop out of the top of the parturition. "What are you doing?!"
"Scrubbing you, as I was ordered to do," the woman sighed, tired of her victim questioning her torture tactics.
Lana tried to whip around to see her own back. It had to be bloodied meat after that attack, but all her fingers found were raised welts and a few misplaced suds. "You shall not touch me with that ever again. Do you understand?" Lana dampened the fire in her voice and tried to dip into her commanding presence. It completely failed on the washer woman.
"Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but around here I do as I'm told. You might want to learn that too unless you want to get kicked back to wherever they found you," the woman sneered. She gripped the brush tighter and aimed to rake up more of Lana's flesh.
The mage reached into the fade and wrapped her skin in stone, the bristles pinging as they struck. Trying a few more times to smash into Lana's skin, the woman sighed, "Take off that damn unholy magic."
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