Chapter Text
"Could one thing in this fucking world just stay fixed?"
It stopped them in their tracks. The Inquisitor did not lose her temper; not like that. And the mark, and the sound she had made when it flared...
"You all can fight amongst yourselves once I'm—once I'm back," said Trev then, calm again, and carried on.
It was out in the open now, even as they all pretended that it was not.
* * *
Cassandra was down on the terrace she had claimed as her own territory, as far away from the courtiers of the Winter Palace as was possible to get without actually leaving. She had set an Inquisition soldier at the end nearest the stairs, to turn away anyone who wanted to speak with her. She sat on a bench, hands folded, and tried to focus her mind; she wanted to think without interruption. Instead she found herself praying, and stopping, and praying again.
She was not surprised that the soldier did not stop Leliana; there were few who would dare stand up to the Inquisition’s spymaster. Her friend settled beside her and quietly looked out over the valley. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but she knew that Leliana would break it.
"The Mark is flaring," said Leliana. "There was a—an attack—when the Council was meeting."
Cassandra set the muscles in her jaw. "She is under a great deal of pressure, and nothing is going well. It is hardly surprising that there would be physical manifestations of that."
"Cassandra," said Leliana gently. "It is more than that. She is dying, and she knows it."
"She is not dying," hissed Cassandra furiously, coming to her feet in a rush.
"The Mark is killing her."
"No!"
Leliana said nothing. Cassandra made a fierce, jerky movement, and caught herself and went very still. Eventually she sat again, put her head into her hands, and after a little said, "I know."
"Has she spoken to you about it?"
"No," said Cassandra.
"Then you must—"
"I have tried," said Cassandra bleakly, dropping her hands. She would not weep, but she knew that her eyes were red. "She refuses to speak about it."
Leliana sighed, and finally said, "She has the courage of a mabari. Except when it comes to causing you pain."
"What?"
"I think," said the spymaster, "that she is afraid. More for you than for herself. She is close to breaking with it. Talk to her."
* * *
"Trev," said Cassandra, coming into the room they shared. The Inquisitor was sitting on the edge of the bed. She had pulled her boots off, and her jacket, but nothing more. She had been staring out the windows toward the distant mountains. She looked around at Cassandra and mustered a smile.
Cassandra sat beside her and tugged her own boots off, then took Trev's unmarked hand and held it in both hers. "We must talk."
"What about?" said the Inquisitor with attempted levity. "Have Qunari spies infiltrated the kitchens now? Is the morning baking threatened?"
"About your Mark," said Cassandra, "and the pain it is causing you. Leliana told me what happened with your hand."
"I'm fine." Trev began to pull her hand away, but Cassandra would not let go.
"No," she said. "It is killing you."
Trev stopped trying to pull away, but her body was rigid. "It's not—"
"I know you are too honest to pretend to yourself," said Cassandra. "Why are you pretending to me?"
"I—" Trev stopped, and did not seem to be able to start again. She shut her eyes. Cassandra waited, her thumbs gently moving on the back of Trev’s hand. I love you. Tell me.
When it became evident that the Inquisitor would not or could not say more, Cassandra said slowly, finding her words, "You have given me more than I ever dreamed possible. The Maker blessed me when he led me to you." Her voice caught. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you, I would do anything to prevent it. But if I cannot—oh my love, I regret nothing, I would change nothing, save to keep you safe. You are the light in my life, and I will always stand with you, I will always hold fast to you. Always and forever, my love."
Later, when Trev had stopped weeping and simply lay in her lover's arms, drained and trembling, Cassandra ran fingers through her hair, over and over again, kissing the top of her head. "I'm sorry," said Trev faintly, into her collar.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," said Cassandra. Then she pulled away a little, catching Trev's face between her hands, looking at her. "Just... promise me. Promise me that you will not give up. We have survived so many unlikely things, between us; what is one more? Promise me that you will fight this, that you will always come back to me if you can."
It was not fair to ask, and she knew it. She was asking Trev to agree to fight no matter how badly she suffered. But she could not stop herself from asking.
"I promise," said Trev, shutting her eyes, and pulling one of Cassandra's hands against her heart. "I promise."
* * *
The Inquisitor staggered out of the eluvian and fell to her knees. Cassandra was the closest; she had been pacing with short, aggressive steps back and forth in front of the unresponsive mirror, and no one dared get between her and the object of her frustration. She caught Trev before she could go flat, but it was a near thing.
The Inquisitor was still conscious, but barely. She was shaking violently, and in shock. "Solas," she gasped. "Took the Mark."
Cassandra's gaze fell to Trev's left hand, and she abruptly stilled. There was no green glow. There was no mark.
There was... a remnant of a hand.
"The eluvian," Trev whispered. "He said it will take us back... before it closes."
Cassandra did not hesitate. She scooped Trev up in her arms and snapped, "Through the eluvian. Now." and stepped forward. Bull and Dorian were on her heels.
It was chaos, afterwards. The soldiers guarding the eluvian on the side of the Winter Palace snapped to attention as Cassandra stepped through, and she was already shouting for healers. There were far too many people following her to the Inquisitor's quarters; she heard the terrified voices saying, "The Inquisitor, the Inquisitor has fallen."
Cassandra laid Trev on her bed; she seemed light, only barely there. The mage healer who had travelled with them was there; he took one look and spoke quietly to a servant. The surgeon was there, and she had begun to confer with the healer.
After a moment the healer motioned to Cassandra, stepping into the far corner of the room. "The hand must come off," he said in a low voice.
"No," said Cassandra, staring at him in horror.
"There is no choice," he said. "There is nothing left to save. If we don't she will certainly die; the flesh is already mortifying. If we take it now we may save the rest of her arm; if we wait I don't know if that will be possible. The surgeon will take it off, and I will give her as much healing as I can. We need three people to work with us; get everyone else out."
Bull had been close enough to hear. "Krem and I will stay," he said, and began to chivvy the others out of the room.
They got a potion into the Inquisitor and stripped Trev of her armour and shirt. The healer did his best to clean her arm. Then they moved into position. Cassandra sat behind Trev, supporting the Inquisitor's weight, and pinned her body. She did not think that Trev was properly aware of what was happening, though she was still conscious to some degree. The qunari's massive hands were resting on her legs and his lieutenant was holding Trev's left arm above the elbow. Trev sighed as the last effects of the potion finally hit, and finally lapsed into full unconsciousness.
Afterwards, when the stump was bandaged and the tools packed up, the healer set out potions and said, "She must drink one of these entirely when she wakes, and then another in the morning. After that, one every morning and evening. There are also these other potions, for the pain; she should take them as needed, but they will make her sleep. Tell whoever stays with her."
"I am staying," said Cassandra, who had slipped out from behind Trev but was still sitting on the bed.
"You won't be here all the time," said the healer. "Tell whoever helps you."
"I am staying," said Cassandra, scowling at him.
"All right," he said after a moment. "She will sleep a great deal after this; that is normal, and the potions encourage it. But if she shows signs of a fever, call me." Cassandra nodded, and the healer and surgeon left.
"I'll have food sent to you," said Bull.
"I'm not hungry," said Cassandra.
"I know, but you will be," he said. "And either way you'll need to eat to keep yourself going, as you know very well."
She growled and he clapped her on the shoulder. "She'll be all right." And then he and Krem were gone, and she was alone with Trev.
There had been no time to think, before; everything had happened too fast. And now... now everything had stopped. Trev lay very still between fine linen sheets beneath an elegantly embroidered down quilt. Her breathing was slow but steady. She was very pale, but that was an improvement on the grey tones Cassandra had seen recently beneath her skin while she still bore the Mark.
But now the Mark was gone. Her hand was gone. She did not know; she had not been aware, in the end, of what they did to her. Now she would awake and find it done, and someone would have to explain.
Cassandra felt very tired. But she would not leave that task to anyone else.
After some time there was a knock on the door. "Come," she said, and it opened; there were servants there. She could see a little beyond them; she recognized the edge of Krem's armor. One servant carried a large tray with a covered plate and two jugs, two carried large basins of water. They set them down, bowed nervously, and left.
Cassandra got up wearily and walked over to the basins. The water in both was hot, which was a luxury she generally did not bother with, and there were soft towels and finely milled soap, delicately scented.
She stripped off her own armour and then got Trev out of the rest of her gore-encrusted clothes and washed her as best she could. The Inquisitor's sleeping shirt was loose enough to get her into without too much difficulty; she tried to be careful with the bandaged stump. After that she washed herself, changing into clean clothing; the hot water had cooled by then but it didn't matter. She checked the covered dish; it was flatbread and cheese and hard sausage and fruit, all things that would keep if left but also sustaining. Grateful for the practicality, she ate a little out of a sense of duty and then put the cover back on it.
The larger jug contained water; the small one—she sniffed carefully—an excellent Antivan brandy. She poured herself a very little. She felt as if she could drink the whole thing and it would have no effect, but that would certainly be unwise.
And then she piled up some pillows and carefully sat back down on the bed, on the side away from Trev's left arm, wrapping a spare quilt around herself. She might sleep a little—she was very tired—but sitting up would ensure that she only slept lightly, should Trev wake.
In the night, she jolted awake from her doze, not certain what had roused her. The candles had gone out, and the fire had burned low; there was very little light. And then she heard the faintest sound, a change of breathing, a dislocation of silence, and felt the slightest movement beside her.
She put out a hand, and touched Trev's shoulder. "Trev?"
The Inquisitor took a breath then. "Cassandra?" Her voice was slurred and rusty as old blades.
"I am here. Let me give you a potion."
She found a couple of unused candles and lit them with a taper, then brought the potion that the healer had put out, holding it to Trev's lips and supporting her head while she drank, and then a second potion for pain. She seemed to have no strength, and even with Cassandra's hands helping she trembled with the effort of drinking. It would not do her harm to sleep more. Trev made a face at the taste, so she filled a mug with water and brought that; the Inquisitor drank thirstily. When she finished Cassandra let her head down and set the mug aside, then brushed the hair out of her eyes. It needed cutting, but there had not been time.
Trev had shut her eyes, and Cassandra thought she was sleeping again. But she was not.
"My hand..."
Cassandra swallowed. "They had to take it."
After a moment Trev said, "I thought they would. I saw it." She took a deep breath. "Where did they cut?"
"A little below the elbow."
Trev had still not opened her eyes. She exhaled, a little shakily. "Don't leave," she said indistinctly; the potion was working.
"I will never leave you," said Cassandra gently, reaching to hold Trev’s hand, not knowing if Trev had heard her or felt her grasp before sleep took her again. “I love you.” I love you.
* * *
The next morning she woke again, properly this time, and Cassandra reached for the potions. “No,” said Trev. “Get the Council.”
“You must take the potions, Trev.”
“They’ll put me to sleep,” said the Inquisitor. There were lines of pain on her face. “I need to speak with them immediately.”
“Surely it can wait a few hours more!”
“No,” said Trev, staring at her. “It can’t.”
Cassandra knew that expression; it was Trev at her most stubborn. If she did not acquiesce, she knew, the Inquisitor would attempt to get out of her bed and go looking for the Councillors, and although she might not make it far she would not stop trying. She sighed. “All right. I’ll get them.”
When the three of them had come in response to the messages of the runners, looking worn and tired as if they too had slept little, Cassandra made to leave the room, but Trev said, “No. Stay. You need to hear this too.” And then she told them what had happened. And after the stunned silences, the outbursts of confusion and protest, she said wearily, “I told him he was wrong. I told him we would prove it to him. I don’t know how. But we must.”
After a moment, Leliana said calmly, “Yes. We must think about this. But nothing can be done immediately; it is not a problem with a clear, easy solution. And there is time. We will think on this, and begin to look for options. In the meantime you must rest and recover, Inquisitor.” Her eyes caught Cassandra’s. “We will leave you to sleep. I think that sleep is the best thing for all of us now.”
After they had gone Trev finally accepted the potions, and ate and drank a very little. Cassandra ate too, and then moved the pile of pillows from beside her lover and undressed and slid into bed with her. She was very tired, and it would not hurt to sleep properly now. Trev, already half asleep, moved to take her hand. “If it’s not one thing,” she said muzzily, “it’s another.”
“We will stop Solas,” said Cassandra, squeezing her fingers gently. “We will find a way.”
“Will we?” said Trev, and then sighed, and subsided into sleep.
And Cassandra had no answer.
* * *
The Inquisitor's recovery would take time: the Mark had taken its toll on her, and now her body had been badly shocked, and she was very weak. But on the next day she grimly set herself to eat and try to exercise to regain her strength. The healer shook his head when she made it clear that she had no intention of following his instruction that she should do nothing but rest for a few days, but did not try to stop her entirely; he only made suggestions as to how she could focus her efforts.
"What about a false arm?" said Trev to him, her face calm. "I’ll need to have one fitted."
"You will not be able to wear one until the wound is fully healed," said the healer. Cassandra thought he was not nearly well enough recompensed for dealing with such a difficult patient.
"Dagna might have some ideas for that when we return to Skyhold," she interjected. "And by that time you should have recovered enough." Trev looked at her, frowning; she seemed to be considering possibilities.
"Yes. I’ll speak to her."
* * *
Trev did not ignore her injury, or pretend it had not happened; she spoke freely about it. But her focus was entirely practical: she would not speak of how she felt about losing her hand. Cassandra broached the subject once or twice, but the Inquisitor deflected her firmly. "I don't like it," she said once, when the Seeker had hesitantly tried to get her to talk, "and I'm upset about it. But it can't be helped, and there are more important things to think about."
Cassandra did not believe for a minute that Trev's reaction was as calm as it seemed. But she did not know how to penetrate her lover's defences. And in any case, it was not up to her how Trev grieved. It was up to her to be there, to support her. That she could do, even if she did not always know how to express what she felt.
And there was much more to focus attention on. The question of the Exalted Council could be put off until the Inquisitor regained enough strength to deal with it, but Trev threw herself at it as if it was a lifeline, insisting on lengthy discussions with her advisors before she was really well enough to do so. Cassandra knew that she had been hesitant to make a decision as to the Inquisition's disposition, seeing both benefits and future problems possible from its dissolution or its continuation, but the resolution of the threatened Qunari invasion and the problem of Solas seemed to have settled her mind.
"Nothing will be served by letting the Inquisition continue as an independent power," said Trev. "Its purpose is ended, and it’s clear that it will only be a focus for the anger and distrust of the nations of Thedas. And it’s also now clear that we cannot avoid corruption within our ranks. I told Solas he was wrong in believing that the world must be wiped clean, and that I would prove it to him. If we are to answer his threat, it must be through other means. We can’t continue as we are."
They could, Leliana suggested, reduce the Inquisition and become an arm of the Chantry, but Trev disapproved of Vivienne's approach to the problem of the mages, and was not in agreement with her on a number of matters of policy; that would not happen. When she said so, Leliana simply nodded; it was a solution, but one that carried a good many risks, and Leliana agreed with Vivienne’s approach no more than Trev did.
There remained the question of what to do about Solas, for Trev was determined to stop him; but that could be resolved later, away from the eyes of the Court and the resentment of the nobles.
And so, to Cassandra's mind far too soon after she received the injury, the Inquisitor appeared before the Exalted Council and announced the dissolution of the Inquisition.
She held up well throughout, Cassandra thought. Her weakness was not evident; she seemed as strong and as forthright as ever. Her will would hold her upright, if there was nothing else to do so. But afterwards, outside the council rooms, she stopped and looked past Cassandra and said, "It’s done." There was a tremor in her legs that had not been there.
The Seeker looked at her and thought briefly of simply picking her up and carrying her to her rooms, but Trev would not thank her for that. She settled for putting her hand on her lover's back. "Breathe." Trev leaned against her hand for a moment, and seemed to pull strength from it; she made it to her rooms on her own feet. But she did not resist when Cassandra helped her undress and put her to bed afterwards, and she slept through most of the next day.
"Did I do the right thing?" she said to Cassandra, waking once, half-asleep and restless and anxious all at once. And Cassandra reassured her, hearing an aching echo of her own uncertainty three years before.