Sisters of Tevinter

Rough Draft

   "You!" 

    Something shattered as Jor strode into Skyhold's main hall, the braziers blazing emerald, the expanse of marble stone and torch sconces was empty. The Inquisitor's brows arched in a detached kind of alarm as she approached one of the adjacent doors. 

    "You foul, lying son of a--" 

     "Just listen--!"

     The door was slightly ajar. Jor nudged it open, greeted by a candlelit scene brimming with violence. Cassandra swung a fist over Varric's head, her posture taut, her snarl deep and blackened with ire. 

     The rogue ducked to one side, scampering back a few paces and holding up his hands. "Seeker--" 

    "Shut up!" Cassandra barked, her voice tight with strain. "You lied to me. To all of us-- right to our faces! The Champion is who we needed-- missing. For how many years? You told us you had no idea where he was." The Seeker advanced on the dwarf like an angry leopard.

      Varric scowled. "What was I supposed to do? Rat out my friend? Didn't he deserve--" 

     "To the Abyss with what he deserved!" Cassandra spat out a violent word in a language Jor didn't recognize, swinging at his head once more. Varric caught her armored forearm, fear and fury dancing in his eyes. "We needed a leader," Cassandra growled. "A hero. The Wardens had scattered, there was no one but Templars and the Champion of Kirkwall. But here he is--" 

      As she watched, a splinter of hurt lodged itself in Jormungandr's chest. They needed a hero, back when the Conclave exploded. When the mages and templars were at odds. When the Breach had been opened. Am I... not enough? She certainly hadn't been back then. A scared little girl with a slit of magic in her hand.

    "Hawke couldn't have done any more than we could," Varric hissed, gripping her forearm in steady, strong fingers. "He's just one man. He left because he needed time-- Kirkwall blew itself to smithereens. Where were the Seekers then? Where were his heroes?" 

     Cassandra, stricken, raised her hand to strike him across the face. 

     "Enough! Both of you!" Jor's voice cracked as she strode into the chamber, stepping artfully over the shattered remains of what looked to be a plate. The splinter fractured in the chambers of her heart, it pained her to see them this way, their words stung each other, pain hung heavy in the air and seethed with fiery anger that burnt the scholar's skin. She hooked a forearm between them and shoved them apart. "Take a breath!"

    Cassandra heaved out a snarl, her lip curling in disdain as Varric folded his arms. "I'm out of here." He cast the Seeker a backwards glare as he strode from the room, slamming the door behind him. 

    "Ugh!" Cassandra spat through gritted teeth, fists curled at her sides. "That loathsome little roach!" 

     Jormungandr's expression was cold, flat. A small sheen of disappointment and a long buried doubt crossed her eyes. She folded her arms. "I can't have my circle tearing itself apart from the inside, Cassandra." 

    "Inquisitor." With effort, she swallowed her rage, the scar on her cheek flexing with her jaw. 

    "Maybe he had it coming. I'm surprised-- I'd almost expected something like this to happen sooner." Jor rolled her eyes with a strained kind of playfulness. 

     Cassandra tossed her head with a scowl, prowling to the window and folding her hands behind her. "How much did you hear?" 

    "Enough." Jor rubbed her throat, hesitant. "...About Hawke."