Chapter Text
There was no way anyone could look at the unconscious, tiny woman weighed down by her shackles and think for even a moment that she could have single-handedly caused the destruction of the Conclave. She was a mage, certainly, and yet Cassandra watched her thin chest rise and fall and wondered for a moment if she would even be strong enough to sit up beneath the weight of her chains.
“I have her name, Seeker,” Leliana appeared from the shadows soundlessly, handing over a few sheets of parchment to the stoic warrior. “Trevelyan, Renata Trevelyan, only daughter of a merchant family from the Free Marches. A quiet, talented, and otherwise unremarkable circle mage with an impeccable record.” The spymaster folded her arms behind her back and looked down at their unconscious captive, stark black hair falling into her face in messy waves. “Do you think she did this?”
“On her own? Don’t be absurd,” Cassandra barely looked at the parchment in her hands, confirming what Leliana had told her. “Look at her.”
“I am. You of all people should know better than to underestimate a mage, Cassandra.” Leliana turned away, her hands still folded together. “But perhaps you will get a chance to ask her yourself.”
//\\//\\//\\
Renata came to with a sudden rasping cough, her hands clutching heavy woolen blankets as panic swept through her, swiftly followed by clarity and memory. Haven, the gruff Seeker, another mage and a dwarf, the Temple of Sacred Ashes, fragments of her own memories scrambled by her flight through the Fade itself… She wasn’t alone, she realized abruptly, a startled elven woman scurrying away before she could ask a single question. From the sound of it she was headed straight back to Cassandra, a thought that managed to be both worrying and reassuring.
Renata dressed in the warm clothes that had been left for her, trying not to think too hard about who might have removed the filthy traveling gear she’d been wearing before. But it appeared she had been deemed trustworthy enough to be left with the secondhand staff she’d picked up along the way, and she was grateful for its sturdy support as she hobbled to the door. She was more unsteady than she’d expected, and the reverent crowds that gathered to watch her walk through the village of Haven certainly didn’t help.
She was met in the Chantry by Cassandra, who waited just inside the shelter of the doorway, watching her approach. “It’s good to see you awake, how do you feel?” The Seeker pushed the door open for her, and Renata gave her a small smile of thanks as she stepped into the shelter of the Chantry.
“Better than expected, if I’m being honest,” Renata answered, pausing just inside the entrance. She could already hear the sounds of arguing ahead of them and wanted just a few more moments of peace. “I appreciate you checking on me, Seeker.”
Cassandra looked down at the petite young woman, a good handful of inches shorter than herself, who was visibly leaning her weight against the staff in her hand and trying to hide her labored breathing. “Hm, and the mark?” she asked, offering her arm to Renata. She accepted it with a grateful expression, allowing Cassandra to lead them both through the open hall. “Does it trouble you?”
“A bit,” Renata tightened her grip on the staff in her left hand, feeling the crackle of arcane energy in her very bones. “It aches a bit. Other times its more of a frustrating itch than anything. I guess I’m just glad it’s helpful, in its own way.”
“It may be essential,” Cassandra replied, pausing just outside a door that was barely muffling the sounds of raised voices. “We will need that mark in the days to come, Herald.”
Renata rolled her eyes, her arm still tucked in Cassandra’s. “Not you too,” she lamented. “I preferred it when you were more suspicious.” She could feel the Seeker’s soft chuckle where their arms were pressed together, the sound quickly drowned out by the argument that swept over them the moment the door opened.