Sisters of Tevinter

Warped

        Bull was watching her now, silent, his breath steady as his chest rose and fell so close to hers. Jor pried at the manacles, her leather gloves scraping unpleasantly against the rust as she dug her nails into the seam. They broke apart with a snap. 

       The scholar shook out her sore fingertips before leaning across Bull's other side to free his arm as his hand dropped into his lap. He gave the barest wince. "You're really here." 

        "Yes, I'm here, hold still." Jor tugged with all her might at the rotting metal, which gave way with a sickening clatter. The scholar fell back on her haunches, looking up at the bruised and battered qunari. "You don't look so good." 

         "I've had better days." Bull shifted, uncoiling his knees from his chest and rubbing his scraped and aching wrists. "You sure I'm not dreaming?" 

         "I can pinch you if you'd like," Dorian offered idly, leaning against the doorframe. 

         Bull grimaced. "You're alive too?" 

         "Yes. Hi." The mage smiled. 

        "How long have you been here, Bull?" Jor asked, her voice hoarse with concern. 

         "Months. Maybe more. There's no sun in here, can never tell." He shook his head. 

        "Months." Jor shuddered. "I'm so sorry. They hurt you?"

        "Ah, don't be." Bull smiled weakly. "You should see the other guys."

        "Come on, let's get out of here. Can you stand?" The scholar stood and offered her hand, though she wasn't sure she could lift the qunari if he couldn't.

        "Yeah," he grunted, gripping the wall to set himself on his feet. 

         "Where are the others?" 

        "They took Cassandra down with me... We were trouble makers." Bull smiled ruefully, a little unsteady. "But I didn't see the Crow."

         "She escaped?" Jor dared to hope.

         "Maybe. With her disappearing act I wouldn't be surprised."

        "Then let's go find Cassandra." Jor passed Dorian, who fell in beside her, slinging his staff over his shoulders. 

         They continued further down the hall, Bull lumbering uneasily behind. Soon, Jor could hear murmuring. A desperate voice, a familiar accent. She darted from cell door to cell door, peering through the bars. She saw a figure in dented Seeker armor, her knees pulled to her chest, her dark hair disheveled. "Maker receive me, put me to use, lead me to your side..."

          "Cassandra," Jor said softly. 

          The Seeker's head snapped up. "Who is that? Who's there?" Fear made her voice thin, and it broke Jor's heart to hear it. 

           "It's me, Cassandra. It's Jor. Are you okay?" She knelt before the lock, drawing her blades. 

           "...You're dead. I saw you die." Cassandra rose shakily, striding towards the bars. She was unbound. "This is impossible." 

            "I'm alive, Cassandra. Dorian and I were sent through time." Click. The door swung open. Cassandra stepped unsteadily into the freedom of the hall. Jor rose to face her. 

            The Seeker stared at Jor for a long, long moment. Her bare hand reached out, hesitant. "You are..."  

             Jor clasped the Seeker's hand in hers, her grip firm and certain. "I'm right here." A dark new scar crossed Cassandra's nose, one of her eyes was half red with burst veins from a heavy blow. 

              "Maker," Cassandra breathed. "You are merciful." 

              Jor smiled slightly, slowly releasing the Seeker's hand. "He is, isn't he. How nice." 

             Cassandra looked like she either wanted to cry or punch the Herald in the face. "I did not miss your humor." But the smallest of smiles tugged at her mouth. She glanced up at the Iron Bull. "You are well?" 

             "I'm not dead." Bull gave a crooked grin. 

              "Close enough then." Cassandra drew herself to her full height. "We must find weaponry. The guard changes in less than an hour." 

            "You kept count?" The horned mercenary snorted. "You're a tough nut to crack." 

            "Do you know the way out of here?" Jor asked the Seeker, shifting her feet anxiously. 

            "...I believe so. Follow me." The Seeker stumbled forward along the lines of cells. Jor kept close to her side, offering a hand whenever it looked as though she'd fall. The companions made their way deeper into the dungeons until they came to a flight of stairs leading upward. Dim, silvery light filtered from around a stone corner. 

            "Up this way. The guards bring us food." The Seeker gestured weakly. 

            "I'll go first then, if you'd like." Jor smiled, not waiting for an answer as she quickstepped up the stairs, moving like light on glass. She felt bolstered, knowing a few of her friends were still alive. She wasn't alone here. 

            She could hear her companions following her, just a few steps behind. She let her hands rest on the hilts of her blades. The stairs spiraled upwards. There were no torches here, but it did seem to grow steadily brighter. 

              Jor emerged from the stairwell in a large antechamber, a hole cut in the ceiling to let greenish silver sunlight come streaming through. It was a peculiar hue, and cast everything in strange, crooked shadows. 

              Three Venatori in heavy plate armor were kneeling between wooden pews, facing a giant organ made of jagged red glass.

            "Are they praying?" Dorian whispered. There was a grin in his voice. "Perhaps we can surprise them."

            Jor nodded and melted into the fragments of light strewn across the chamber, drawing one of her dirks silently as she crept up behind the closest soldier. He was murmuring under his breath, his tone devout. Suck on this, Elder One. Jor jumped him, throwing her weight over his back and slitting her blade across his throat. Blood flowed crimson and splattered to the stone with his helpless gasp as he keeled over with a clatter. 

           The others turned with shouts and drew their weapons. Bull surged forward, plowing into one of the soldiers and pummeling his helmet. Cassandra knocked a candelabra from its sconce and backhanded one of the Venatori with the sculpted gold. 

          They dropped. Bull's hands were caked in blood when he rose, pulling the battle axe from his dead soldier's shoulders to weigh in his grip. "You'd think they'd have better quality weapons." He spun the grip in his palm, unimpressed. 

         Cassandra set the candelabra back in its place, crouching to pull the Venatori's sword from his dead grasp. "Beggars cannot be choosers."