Chapter Text
After they returned from Redcliffe, Cassandra woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and breathing hard, but she couldn't remember what she had been dreaming.
Just that it was red.
Picturing the color made her feel shaky. She pulled herself up and sat on the side of her bed, covering her face with her hands. She hadn't had a nightmare that bad in weeks. Not since immediately after the conclave.
Cassandra grimaced. She'd heard Lavellan's reports, just like the rest of them, and she had been to the Temple of Sacred Ashes and seen the red lyrium there. She could put two and two together. The idea that in an alternate future, she'd been consumed by red lyrium, had been the source of her fear.
Something didn't seem quite right about that conclusion, but it was still enough to calm her slightly. She forced herself to take deep breaths until the last traces of her fear had passed, leaving only unease.
They had successfully secured the mages' assistance. Perhaps Lavellan had allowed them a little more leeway than she would have liked, but the decision was made, and so far, the mages had been cooperative. Their goal was the close the breach within a week.
Cassandra sighed and lay back down again. There was work to be done and she would need to be well-rested to for it.
She'd have to negotiate with the mages over the question of templars... They'd have to ensure and organize the trip up to the breach... Maker willing, perhaps they'd finally find some brief measure of peace.
-
The morning found her more irritable than she would have liked, but there was no helping it. Still, she felt some regret.
The mage who had been making requests at her was an ass, but he was a harmless ass, for as far as she knew Former Enchanter Fiona had given him no acknowledgement. He was shouting for shouting's sake. Cassandra was really only a little chagrined that she hadn’t been able to handle him with more… finesse, really.
Cassandra felt a little worse about Lavellan. Just because she hadn't slept well and had to deal with an irritating man, didn’t mean she should have been taking any of her frustrations out on Lavellan, or blaming her. It was clear to Cassandra that Lavellan truly believed that mages deserved a chance, and that given the opportunity, they would live up to the task before them. Cassandra would be lying if she said she wasn't a little worried, but she could admire Lavellan's belief, and she would support their Herald's decision to the best of her ability.
She hoped Lavellan realized that as well, after her misstep.
Cassandra hacked at a training target, trying to wake herself up as well as give herself a little bit of a cooldown. Fighting focused her, made her fit better into the world. It reminded her what she was capable of, and what she was not.
“Everything alright, Cassandra?” Cullen walked over from his usual position overseeing the troops.
“Fine,” Cassandra said, stilling her movements. “Did you need something?”
“Just thought you looked like you could use a friendly ear,” Cullen replied, leaning on the hilt of his sword. “First that mage who’s been hassling as many of us as he can find, then the Herald leaves and you’re beating up on that poor target.”
Cassandra shrugged, and turned the motion into a roll of her shoulders. “I did not sleep very well,” she admitted. “It’s not a problem. Lavellan’s experience yesterday… unsettled me.”
“What, the one where she went into a future where nearly all of us were most likely dead? I think I can relate.”
“Not all of us were dead, commander,” Cassandra replied, her voice a little sharper. “Some of us were finding ourselves slowly consumed by a mysterious and deadly form of lyrium, apparently.”
“Oh, I see. Fear of lyrium taking all you have until there’s nothing left for it to take?” said Cullen. “Completely understandable. But you’re right, I really can’t relate to that.”
Cassandra blinked in surprise and turned to meet his eyes. “Oh.” When Cullen only gave her a slight smile in reply, she shook her head. “And now I’ve put my foot in my mouth once again. This really isn’t my morning. You have my apologies.”
“No offense taken, I promise. I only meant to remind you that there are many here who would gladly listen, if you needed to talk. Not even necessarily me, either.”
“I appreciate the reminder,” Cassandra said, genuinely a little warmed. “Right now I think I’d rather slash at something, but I’ll be sure to keep that in mind. I hope you know I’d do the same for you - though perhaps some other day when I won’t be saying the wrong thing every few minutes.”
“Good to know. Thank you.” Cullen started to turn, but then stopped, looking back. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Of course.”
“I might be wrong, but you strike me as the sort of person who is much better at dealing with something if you have a good, solid understanding of it.”
“That sounds like me, yes.”
“Talk to Varric when you have a chance. He has more experience with red lyrium, and Lavellan said he was the other one she met in that future. If you say you want to learn whatever he can tell you about red lyrium, I’m sure he would understand.”
“Varric?” Cassandra considered the idea for a moment. On one hand, Cullen was entirely correct that Varric was their resident red lyrium expert, and knowing more about it would definitely do her some good. On the other hand, she felt just as likely to be tormented by Varric as helped. He had proven useful to the Inquisition, but he still made it his personal business to get on her every nerve.
“I’ll think about it,” Cassandra said, but she knew it was very, very unlikely.
“Do that. Good luck with your conversations today,” said Cullen, strolling away.
“Thanks. Maker knows I’ll need it,” said Cassandra.
“Exactly!”
Cassandra resisted the urge to roll her eyes and went back to slashing at her target.
Perhaps Cullen’s advice was sound. She didn’t have to bring the personal side of things into it. Now that they knew for certain that red lyrium would play a part in the future endeavors of this Elder One, she had good reason to look into it. The Inquisition could use a clearer picture of what they were up against.
And if learning more about red lyrium put her mind at greater ease, all the better. Dragging the information out of Varric would be a task, but she had done it before. She could do it again.
Although, she would probably have to treat Varric as an ally and not a prisoner this time. Hmm.
“Cassandra!” Lavellan shouted at her ten minutes later. “We’re heading out towards to Redcliffe to wrap a few things up before… before! Want to come? Ought to be plenty of bandits!”
“Sounds like fun, Herald!” Cassandra called back. Apparently, she’d been forgiven.
-
The Fade left Cassandra alone that night, and the night which followed after that. Her dreams were peaceful, though she remembered nothing of them. It was the third night that the dream returned, and with it, it brought again that creeping sense of fear, of whispers inside of her that she couldn’t control. She could see it, even feel it in her fingers. It was warm. The sensation was almost too real, and Cassandra wondered if a little bit of reality wasn’t creeping into the Fade to haunt her dreams.
She understood little of the Fade, however. She wasn’t even certain that such a thing was possible. Perhaps. Perhaps not.
It didn’t matter; what did matter was that she still had not addressed the subject, and that was remiss of her. Cassandra resolved that very day to speak with Varric.
But first, if she couldn’t sleep, she needed to relax. Cassandra reached for her bedstand and pulled out a drawer. She pulled out her copy of Hard in Hightown and flipped to her bookmark, somewhere in chapter five. Captain Brennokovich’s antics would help her calm down.
Shortly after her initial rounds of Haven, Cassandra walked over to his pet campfire, stole a chair, and sat down. “Varric.”
“Why, hello, Seeker,” said Varric. He grinned at her openly. “How nice to see you again. Go on, sit down, thank you for asking, nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
Cassandra sighed. “Yes, it is. May I ask you about something, Varric?”
“Of course,” Varric replied. He sat down himself, leaning forward with his hands clasped together as if he was ready to make some kind of deal. “See? A little politeness goes a long way.”
“Pity I’m not very good at it then,” said Cassandra. “Varric, I want to go over everything you know about red lyrium.”
“Same as our Herald, huh?”
“Lavellan, too?”
“Yeah.” Varric scratched the back of his head. “She was able to add another piece to the puzzle of red lyrium. Not a good one, exactly.”
“The part where it seems to eat people alive, producing more red lyrium from them?”
“That’s the one,” Varric said tiredly. “Red lyrium seems likes it’s capable of more than I’d even imagined.”
“What had you imagined?”
“I don’t know. But that wasn’t it. What do you want to know, Seeker?”
“Anything. Everything. What it is. What it can do to you.”
“Much of that you already know. You tortured my whole story out of me, remember?”
Cassandra sighed, feeling her temper rising slightly. “There was no ‘torture’ involved and you know it.”
“Right, right. You did stab my book though.”
“It was my copy of your book, and - and I did not come here to fight about this. I came here to try to learn more about what we’re up against. Understand?”
Varric gave her a long, scrutinizing look. “Alright, Seeker. Let me see what I can scrounge up that you don’t already know. What did I tell you about that little raid on the family manor?”
“You and Hawke stormed the place because it was said to be haunted, but there was only demons and Bartrand. You found out the lyrium idol was driving him mad, and gave him a merciful death, but then Hawke had to persuade you not to keep a piece of the idol.”
“That’s most of it. Good memory. But I think I really only gave you a third-person account of that last bit.”
“A third-person account?”
“You know, talked about it like it wasn’t happening to me. It’s been years now and it still creeps me out a little, so when I talk about it, I tend to keep a bit of distance.” Varric settled into his seat and stared at the fire for a moment. “It was… It wasn’t good. All I’d done was be around it a little, nothing more, and it was already in my head. Not much, but enough that I didn’t want to part with it. It was warm, almost comforting in a horrific sort of way, and if you left it out in the dark, it would glow. On my more dramatic days, I’d compare it to the eye of a demon watching you. These days, if there’s red lyrium around, I won’t be able to rest until I smash it myself. Otherwise… I guess I get worried I might not be willing to smash it.”
“Did its effects go away once you got away from it for a while?”
“Sure. Doesn’t keep me from feeling wary about it, though.”
Cassandra shook her head. “No, I imagine not.”
“It’s weird, too. There must be something very different about it from regular lyrium. Different to the bone.”
“What makes you say that?”
Varric frowned. “It affected Bartrand. More than that, it affected me, too. We’re dwarves. This kind of shit doesn’t happen to us. No Fade, no dreams, no magic, no lyrium, no nothing. This red lyrium has stripped away that security. Its effect on us, from what I could tell, was just as bad as its effect on people like Meredith. Maybe even worse - but then, that could have just been Bartrand. Bartrand was probably already a dragon-shit backstabber well before the idol could get any kind of hold on him.”
“That… is strange.”
“Yeah. Didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem relevant at the time, but that thought’s been rattling around in my head for a while.”
Varric had an excellent point, one which Cassandra was at a loss to explain. She was no expert on the subject of the Fade, but Varric was spot on. Dwarves should have had the least to fear from the threat of red lyrium. That they were affected too was worth concern.
“Does that help you at all with your puzzling, Seeker?”
“Maybe. Have you brought this up with Solas? If there’s anything he knows about the dwarves’ lack of connection to the Fade…”
“He might be able to get something about red lyrium out of that. Good point. I’ll have to pull him aside and ask him sometime.”
“You do that,” Cassandra said. Perhaps she hadn’t found any concrete answers, but now, she had at least one question to pursue. That would help. She also knew for certain that she wasn’t the only one on the team who would be very cautious around red lyrium, and that was comforting in its own way.
Varric coughed. “Lavellan’s story got to you, didn’t it?”
Cassandra nearly jumped out of her seat. “I’m trying to collect information a possible threat, Varric.”
“That’s not a no. I’ll be a hypocrite for saying so, but don’t let it get you down, Cassandra. We know he’s coming. It’s not gonna happen. Neither of us is going to find ourselves growing big red spikes out of our asses any time soon. Just have to convince our heads of that.”
“Are you comforting me?” Cassandra blurted.
Varric smiled again, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and if I did, I’m sure it would never happen again. Go away, Seeker. You got what you came for, so go knock a couple of mage heads around and cheer yourself up.”
Cassandra got to her feet. “Do you think that’s all I do? Knock heads around?”
“Of course not! You killed a dragon! I’m sure you knock plenty of tails around too.”
She couldn’t help but give a disgusted noise at that. “Thanks for your help, Varric,” she grumbled, though she couldn’t quite muster any sincerity for it.
“Sure thing!”
-
They closed the Breach.
The celebration was loud and startling and all Cassandra wanted to do was sleep. It seemed like red lyrium had decided it would only let her rest every few days. She was only thankful that its pull on her mind seemed to be only a figment of her imagination that disappeared when she awoke, and no more. Talking with Varric had brought her more peace of mind about the whole ordeal, but her nightmares had not changed.
She would have to thank him, properly, sometime when he wasn’t being quite as much of a pig as usual.
But there would be no time for that now.
They lit up the mountain down all the paths and crossings, stampeding over every end, and when they came close, she saw them for what they were. They were infested with red lyrium, all of them. Some worse than others, but all of them glowed red somewhere, whether from vivid protrusions on their mottled skin, or merely drifting like a fine haze before their eyes.
The terror the sight caused in her was familiar, and that familiarity made it very, very easy for her to strike.
-
She didn’t sleep long enough to dream for a week after, between Haven and the move to Skyhold. When she finally did, she collapsed in bed and slept for hardly a few hours before she was up again, shaking. The sensation was more specific, this time: she could feel it slipping down her throat; her hands and legs were bound somehow by ropes that didn’t exist. Just as with her last dream, the lyrium was warm. Her dreams had known that before Varric had told her.
Cassandra wondered when she’d picked up such an inventive imagination. Certainly not from Varric. Damn Varric. Damn his lying and damn his silver tongue.
She still couldn’t believe the stunt he’d pulled with Hawke. He’d lied to a Seeker - to her - and she’d believed him. She’d trusted him. She’d even been about to thank him when he pulled her aside first and told her that Hawke was standing up on the ramparts.
To an extent, she did understand, but she was still furious. How was she supposed to trust him after that?
That day people walked around her gingerly. She couldn’t blame them. She had bags in her eyes that make-up had only somewhat hidden, and she’d accidentally barked at no less than three soldiers before noon. She couldn’t get her mind off Varric’s deception, the strange specificity of her nightmares, or the sight of those red templars assaulting Haven. Worse still, Hard in Hightown was doing nothing for her. As interested as she was to find out about Captain Belladonna’s intentions, she couldn’t ignore the fact that Varric was the only reason Captain Belladonna existed in the first place, and she was very mad at him.
She needed to find some stress reliever if she was going to survive this day, or maybe this week. Perhaps if Varric’s books wouldn’t work, then something else would? Other books, maybe? If there was the slightest chance that the Inquisition’s library had novels other than those written by Varric, maybe that would be her ticket in.
Trying to look as unassuming as possible, she strode towards the library. Solas glanced at her on her way up, but she ignored him. Hopefully he would only think that she was paying Leliana a visit, though she had been avoiding it. Why on earth Leliana was fond of high, dark places full of birds, Cassandra would never know.
Quietly, trying to act like she had every right to be there, and feeling as though Helisma and Fiona - okay, maybe not Helisma - were staring at her, she began peering at the shelves in search of even one blessed work of fiction.
“Looking for something?”
“Andraste’s sword arm!” Cassandra nearly tripped over a desk moving away from the voice. She scowled and turned back around, where Dorian was trying to stifle laughter, and failing badly. “Don’t do that! How did you do that?”
“Little trick I picked up from Sera. I’ve never walked quieter! What is our esteemed Seeker doing in the Inquisitorial library? We still don’t have the bulk of the texts we need, but if we have it, I’m sure I could help you find it.”
Cassandra could never tell if Dorian was flirting or just being troublesome. “Nothing important,” she replied. “Just… Never mind. I’ll come back later. I might have more luck when more books come in, anyway.”
“No, no! I mean it! This is a completely genuine offer, I swear it.”
She wasn’t sure whether she could trust him. Perhaps if she avoided the topic of exactly what she was looking for? “...You won’t tell anyone?”
“Oh, it’s a secret, is it? I swear I won’t tell a soul.”
“Fiction.”
“Fiction?” Dorian lifted his hand to his chin in thought. “Now, that’s unexpected. I don’t think we have very much, but if we do, I believe they would have been sorted over on the other side of the library. Follow me.”
She followed him and he quickly led them to the whole of the Inquisition’s fiction section, which consisted of… Varric Tethras’ books.
Dorian’s face fell when he saw them. “Hmm. Now that I think of it, we might not actually have any fiction besides this. It’s entirely possible that Varric simply took a shelf one day and nobody argued.”
“He’d be quite insulted right now to hear you calling The Tale of the Champion fiction,” Cassandra muttered, sighing. “Well, it was worth a look. ...Is this even a full collection?”
“I… I wouldn’t know.” Dorian squinted at the shelves. “You know, I don’t think it is. I’m sure Varric bragged of writing more than this.”
Without thinking about it, Cassandra made a mental checklist and checked them off. “They’re missing… both Hard in Hightown and Hard in Hightown: Siege Harder, Swords & Shields, The Mage of the Anderfels, and even Slaver’s Chase.”
When Cassandra looked back up at Dorian, he was stunned.
“Shit.”
“Cassandra,” Dorian gasped. “Really?”
“I am not discussing this with you,” said Cassandra. She began walking around the library back to the steps as fast as she could possibly manage. Was she blushing? Probably. Damn.
“Oh, yes you are. You’ve read these?”
“Be quiet, Tevinter!”
“Come on, at least give me some recommendations!”
“Recomm-” Cassandra spun back around. “What do you mean recommendations?”
“They don’t exactly sell fine Free Marches dwarf-written fiction freely up in Minrathous, you know! Everybody else around here seems to at least know what Varric writes, even you! I want in!”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I can, the impossible has happened: I’ve found out that Cassandra Pentaghast reads Varric Tethras’ books. Surely me wanting to read them as well pales in comparison.”
“Fine,” said Cassandra. “You want my recommendation, Dorian?”
“Absolutely.”
“They’re all terrible. That’s your only warning.”
“Terrible is my favorite kind of book. You won’t frighten me away with as little as that.”
“They get… smutty.”
“Better and better!”
Cassandra huffed. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. And like I said, I won’t tell a soul.”
“Fine. Come by my room later tonight and I’ll lend you my copy of The Mage of the Anderfels. I’d give you Hard in Hightown, but I’m not quite finished with it yet. And don’t say another word.”
Dorian mimicked zipping his lips shut.
Strangely in a better mood than before, Cassandra shook her head and walked away.
-
The next time Cassandra had the dream, she heard herself scream.
-
At some point, Cassandra finally worked up the courage to go speak to Hawke. She was… she was exactly as Varric had described her. Somehow it just made it worse. Cassandra slunk away with a sense of nervous awe that felt identical to when she had first met Divine Justinia, and wondered if she’d work up the courage to speak to her again.
The recently-appointed Inquisitor decided that they needed to hold a stronger presence in Orlais. Cassandra couldn’t disagree, given all that was at stake, but there was still a part of her that was grumpily wondering why she, of all people, had to be part of that endeavor on this particular day.
She was in a bad mood before the venture had even properly started. The Emerald Graves were beautiful in their way, but they were so green that all a person had to do was wear a little of it themselves to blend right in. She half expected these “Freemen” to jump out of every other tree. For some reason, the sunlight through the trees around noon was for some reason utterly blinding, far too bright.
Dorian, Varric, and the Inquisitor were also very, very bright. All seemed well-rested and chipper, cheerful in each other’s company. As they walked, Varric was telling a fanciful story about a young Tevinter woman he and Hawke had once met and nearly been killed by.
It was actually a somewhat interesting tale, for the little she heard of it. But it only made Cassandra wonder. How had the Inquisitor come to trust Dorian so quickly? Perhaps he was not in the magisterium, but House Pavus was still well-respected in Tevinter, as far as she knew. It was hard to fathom that within so little time Lavellan had begun to relate to him as an ally, or even a friend.
That wasn’t to say she didn’t also like Dorian. Whatever else, he was charming in his own way, and hearing him speak ill of his countrymen certainly endeared one to him. It was merely a matter of trust.
But was she too mistrustful? The Inquisitor’s faith in her allies had done them well so far. She eyed Varric with a small amount of guilt. Maybe she was being too hard on him.
“Come on, Seeker, not even a laugh? A chuckle? A raised eyebrow?”
Then again, maybe not. “I’m afraid I wasn’t listening,” Cassandra replied calmly. “You’ll have to repeat yourself.”
“Ah, never mind. It would take too long.”
Silence fell over the group. They fought their way past a number of Freemen who had taken up camp around some old Orlesian villa, and eventually found themselves setting up an Inquisition camp far to the north.
“Cassandra, may I have a word with you in private?” the Inquisitor said, coming up to Cassandra when she’d finished speaking with the requisitions officer.
“Of course,” she said quickly.
“Walk with me for a moment.”
Cassandra followed her into the trees. Lavellan waited until they were just out of earshot of anyone from the camp, tucked away behind a bush or two and slightly out of sight, before she turned to Cassandra with a grim expression.
“I’m sorry about this, but Cassandra, this has to stop. You’re distracted, Varric’s distracted, and Dorian’s distracted for both of you. I was hoping that nice weather might lighten things up a little, but it seems to have only made things worse. I command the Inquisition now, Cassandra. Please tell me I don’t have to command you to pull yourself together over this.”
With every word, Cassandra’s heart sunk lower and lower.
“You don’t have to, Inquisitor,” she said, looking away in shame. “I’m sorry. I should not have let this get to me like it has.”
“I’m surprised. You’re usually more level-headed than this.”
“I know. That story - Varric was trying to reach out, wasn’t he?”
“I believe so, yes. I think he picked up on my intentions right away.”
“Meanwhile, I was convinced the world was out to torture me.” Cassandra sighed. “I’ll do better. I am… I am finding it hard to let go of what happened with Varric earlier. It’s a bit complicated. But none of that should matter. At the very least, out here in the field, both you and he deserve better from me.”
“I’m glad you realize that,” said Lavellan. “I need you at my side, at your best, Cassandra. But, as a friend - are you alright?”
Cassandra tried to muster up a small smile. “I haven’t been sleeping very well, Inquisitor. It’s trying my patience. That’s all.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Thank you,” Cassandra said. “Didn’t you want to head back Villa Maurel and sweep the Freemen of the Dales out of it? We should get going if we want to make that happen before sundown.”
They headed back to camp shortly afterward, and Lavellan quickly began to issue orders to restock their supplies. Cassandra watched her go, frowning in thought.
“You look chewed out,” Dorian commented, sidling over with a neutral expression.
Cassandra didn’t bother moving her gaze. “Was this your doing?”
“Ah, well. Yes. The Inquisitor sold me out? Can’t say I saw that coming.”
“She didn’t say a thing about you. In fact, she took full responsibility for this little plan. I simply had a suspicion.”
“Oh.”
“Dorian, you were trying to do a nice thing. Am I wrong?” Cassandra asked.
“That was the hope.”
“Right. A word of advice: don’t do it again.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. This seems to have backfired nice and disastrously.”
“Not entirely. After all, you’ve forced me into a position where I’ve realized I should probably take my head out of my ass. I don’t believe I have been entirely at fault here, but I realize that I have been holding a grudge and he has not. He lied to me. To protect a friend, he thought. It’s hardly the worst thing anyone has ever done to me.”
“You wanted to believe him, I’m sure. It must have hurt to find out that your belief was, in any small degree, misplaced.”
“I think it was more that I wanted to be correct, truthfully. But it was probably that as well.”
“Brave of you to admit it,” Dorian replied, and Cassandra thought he meant it. “By the way, you were completely right. Varric’s novels are utter shit.”
“And?”
“I’m loving it. Do me a favor and finish Hard in Hightown as soon as you’re able.”
“Good to know. I’ll try to make the time.”
Before too long they were back on the road again. Cassandra still felt tired, guilty, and frustrated, but there was something satisfying in the fact that she had finally received the kick in the pants she needed.
Varric seemed hesitant, at first. Fearing her temper, most likely. “Maybe later,” he said. “I’d rather not get the Freemen’s attention when we’re about to thoroughly storm their place.”
“Are you joking, Varric?” Dorian exclaimed. “You want to take them out without letting them know we could do it and have a good time? Where’s the fun in that?”
“Inquisitor, you don’t think-”
“Varric, I’m beginning to think your stories might work as an intimidation tactic, but we’ll only find out if you’re willing to give it a shot. Come on, I’m sure you have one.”
Varric sighed. “I can’t believe I’m asking this. Seeker? I need a voice of reason here.”
Cassandra avoided looking at him, trying to keep her face straight. “It could be a valuable tactic, if used against the right enemies. The Freemen could suffice as a test run.”
“You’re shitting me. Wait - are you actually shitting me? Are you shitting me?”
Dorian started laughing loudly, and Lavellan wasn’t long behind, though she kept it to quieter, slightly more dignified snickers instead.
It was only by merit of her Seeker training that Cassandra avoided breaking into loud laughter as well. She made a little note to herself: clearly, one highly effective way of dealing with Varric was to take petty revenge where she could.
“Fine, fine. You’re all so demanding. How about this one? This one time, Hawke and I were tasked with finding some apostates. Very serious business, most of it, abominations and a nasty blood mage and all that fun stuff. But then we ran into this one guy...”
Varric slipped into storyteller mode with ease, and before long, Cassandra was tossing a man aside with her shield while she heard again (though with plenty of embellished details, of course) about the interesting fate of the mage Emile.
She had not forgiven him, could not, not just yet, and overall it was still a very bad day, but Cassandra had to admit at the end of it that she did like Varric’s stories. They were embellished, if not outright lied about, and they were absurd, even cliche at time, but he knew how to tell a tale, and she would get sucked into the heart of his fables every time.
-
The dream was different this time. Haunting, still, but instead of waking up shaking, she woke up still. Afraid, but not broken by it.
She remembered red. She was not bound physically this time, but she was bound to the lyrium. She could feel it inside her, sapping her mind, endowing her with fruitless strength.
Cassandra knew little else. But there was a voice, familiar to her, though layered over with an echo, like the voice of a ghost. “I’ll tell you a story,” he said softly. Amidst the fear and the corruption, the words were a balm.
She woke in the middle of the night, but as she woke, the fear was already receding.
Maker, she was tired. She didn’t even want to think about this.
Cassandra turned right over and fell back asleep.