Sisters of Tevinter

Imprisoned

      Jor tore the jagged, tasseled shawls around the guard's shoulders into strips to bind their hands and gag them. Dorian was rubbing his wrist, grimacing. "That hurts. Their helmet cut my hand- do you always jump poor unsuspecting lovers that way?"

       Jor pulled the bindings tight and rose, watching the guards' heads loll. "They'll be fine. I'm sure it's more than they deserve." She strode past the mage and further down the long halls of damp blackness.

      He fell into step beside her, musing. "It was rather exhilarating, I'll admit."

      "Oh, don't tell me you've never choked out a guard before," Jor said flatly. Of course he hadn't. In truth, neither had she. 

       "I've never found myself in that position, no. Though there was this one time-"

       The floor seemed to give out on either side of them, dropping into ragged chasms of darkness as they stepped into an echoing open chamber. The stone floor turned to an iron grate that served as a kind of catwalk, connecting to an island of solid marble in the center of the chasmic room. The ceiling was invisible, so high and tall that it faded into blackness. Water trickled into the shadows far, far below. Jor felt sick. 

        "Oh, now this is lovely." Dorian grimaced, looking around. "They need an interior decorator in here, Maker it's depressing."

         The island branched into three more grates with three respective doorways. Jor took a hesitant step out onto the perforated bridge. It creaked and shook slightly with her weight. She swallowed.

        "Careful." 

        "Yes, Dorian, thank you," Jor huffed, spreading her arms and easing along the wide expanse of thin metal. Every stray draft of air or groan of steel made her stomach drop into her boots. She made it to the island, and stepping onto solid stone felt like stepping into a warm room out of winter wind and certain death. Her legs trembled. 

          Dorian smiled slightly and followed her without half as much concern, patting her arm. "You're alright."

          "...Yes." It was sort of comforting, if ill timed. Jor shook her head. "Which way?"

          "I'm following you, dearest. You'll find that I have no more a clue than you do."

          "Alright... well." Jor smiled slightly. "When things aren't going right, go left."

          Dorian grinned. "Oh, that's charming. Left it is." The mage set off along the grate that lead to the entrance on the far left. It was cold here. The damp made Jor's bones ache. She followed hesitantly after Dorian, trembling at every noise.

           The mage waited patiently for her on the other side, looking amused. "Afraid of heights?"

           "No," Jor said all too quickly, scowling.

          Dorian nodded, smiling. "Thought so. Lead the way."

           So Jor sighed and edged into the darkening halls of stone. It quickly became confusing. Several staircases lead up and down, some rooms lead straight into others or into hallways unfamiliar. Jor flitted silently from room to room, getting turned around easily in the process. She couldn't remember which way she'd come from. The rooms were empty but for stacks of parchment and tables splattered with candle wax. 

            Absently, frustrated and dizzy, Jor ignored the crystal of lyrium glowing in the corner and lifted an abandoned scroll. 

         We push the borders of Ferelden and the seas beyond. All for You. Your support of the one true Race has never been clearer, our loyalties no less defined. Blood for You. Breath for You. The Old Gods are dead, the New have fled. You are Time, Space, Power,

         The Elder One

          The Elder One

         The Elder One

          The Elder One

          It was written over and over again in uneven strokes of black ink. Jor grimaced. "This Elder One doesn't sound like a god I'd like to meet."

          "Oh? You have a guest list? Let me know- There's some questions I'd like to ask that audacious pantheon out there." Dorian leaned against the doorframe, keeping watch down the echoing halls. "That torch sconce looks awfully familiar."

          Jor looked up, setting down the parchment. "Wait a second...Did we go through here already?"

           "Yes. Twice."

            "You didn't say anything!"

           "I thought you had some kind of plan. I was mistaken." 

          Jor pinched the bridge of her nose, her head pounding. She wanted a nap. She wanted to go back to Haven, find Solas and beg him to never do magic around her again. She never wanted to see another spell while breath filled her lungs. "...My sense of direction isn't the best. And we have no map." 

            "Come. We will try another." Dorian pushed off the wall and lead her back down flights of stairs to the island in the chasm. "The middle?" he suggested. 

          "Sure." Jor walked beside him as they crossed the center threshold. Quietly, they continued on. This level was worse. There was flight after flight of stairs around them, all leading in different directions. One was larger than the others, spiraling down to a hall of darkened cells and soft glowing crystal. 

           Jor took a few careful steps down the staircase, looking around. The lyrium crowded almost every inch of stone, some crystals had grown even taller than the rogue. Steel chains hung in ribbons from the ceiling, bars were set deep in the stone. The hall seemed to continue on forever. Just as she was considering turning back, she heard something. A low rumble, a distant voice, sounding incredibly bored. 

       "Ninety nine thousand bottles of beer on the wall... ninety nine thousand bottles of beer..."

         The scholar's gut tore itself into ragged knots. No way. "Bull?" Her voice echoed down the hall, bouncing erratically off the granite and crystal. 

        "Boss?" 

        "Where are you?" 

        A low, rumbling chuckle, achingly somber. "Finally. It's getting to me." He raised his voice from somewhere ahead. "Follow the sound of crushed dreams and denial." 

       Jor started to run. Her heart spasmed in her chest as she sprinted down the stone passage, catching a glimpse of shadow in one of the cells. She'd nearly ran right past it. She skidded to a halt, gripping the dark steel bars. "Bull!"

      The qunari was slumped against the far corner of his cell, little starbursts of red lyrium crawling from the walls. His hands were strung up above him, bound in iron manacles and shackled to the stone. He lifted his horned head, his eye raking over Jor's face. "...Boss?" 

      "Bull, what happened?" Jor shook her head. "No, don't tell me. Hold on, I'll get you out." She knelt at the keyhole set in the cell door, drawing her dirks from her belt to try and pick the lock. 

       "Boss, I thought you- Aren't you- Huh." He rested his head back against the stone. "I guess I'm hallucinating." 

       "No, Bull, I'm here." Jor gritted her teeth, pressing her ear to the exterior of the mechanism, carefully maneuvering her wrists. "Just hang on."

        Click. Jor rose and flung open the door, sheathing her dirks and striding into the cell to kneel in front of the qunari. He was bruised, his good eye was swollen and dark. The tattoos Jor remembered on his shoulders were smeared- it was war paint. She made a mental note to ask about that once they got out of there. She leaned across his side to reach the first shackle, trying to pry it loose. They were rusted, old and tight. The mercenary's hands were purple from lack of circulation.