Chapter Text
How Aravas had managed to avoid getting caught the entire trek from the Free Marches to the Frostback Mountains, Nym would never know.
Nym had spent decades of her life training for this exact moment, hours studying rival clans, prey movements, Orlesian battle strategies, Feralden history, one named it and Keeper Volen had a test for it. Her aim was unmatched. Her vision was comparable to a great red hawk, feet quiet as a halla hoof. Time after time, she had shown the entirety of the clan she was destined for the lead hunter.
And yet of all things, her sister was the first to catch her completely off-guard.
"You nearly had me too, when we left Kirkwall. I knew you checked the guest list of the boat seven times so I'm not sure how you missed Savara as my fake name!" The youngest chittered on and on as they descended a steep hill. Heavy snow crunched beneath their enchanted boots. A human soldier would have sunk to their knees, but Father had gifted each child of their family with lavish nugskin boots after their Vallashlin ceremony.
You rely so much on your legs, just like the harts, she could hear him now. Did Father know where Aravas had gone?
Dawn was ascending through the dense winter woodland. Sunlight turned the white blanket shades of orange and pink as it trickled through the tree line. Aravas lowered her staff and ceased her spellcasting with a hushed whisper. In the distance, a grand gray temple loomed with multiple colored factions marching inside.
Nym held up her hand as they neared, sidestepping into the brush.
“Do you even know what you’re looking for?” Aravas questioned, crouching a few steps behind her
“In a way,” The older mused, tracing her gaze across the fortress.
“That’s the Temple of Sacred Ashes, is it not?”
Nym glared at the mage.
“Yes, only the most well-known religious site in all of Thedas.”
Aravas nodded in understanding. Silence was withheld for a moment before her lips pursed in question again, “And why are we here?”
“If you were selected for the mission, you would have been briefed on the information prior to leaving camp,” Her sister chided, her tone sharp as knives. When Aravas flinched, her gaze softened.
“I’ll give you the rundown so you can stop asking questions. Look,” She motioned with her head to the incoming troops, “Do you remember how tense Kirkwall was when we passed through?”
“Yes, the city elves thought my Vallashlin was quite queer, and the city guard nearly arrested me when I had my staff in hand.”
“That wasn’t the city guard, that was a Templar. After that mage destroyed the Kirkwall circle, everyone has been on high alert. You’re lucky you weren’t mugged. See how the mages are walking in a separate entrance than the Templars? It’d be catastrophic if a fight broke out.”
Aravas furrowed her brows, “So how did they end up here?”
“The Divine orchestrated this meeting. If you look you can see members of the Chantry and both royal houses making their way from the south.”
“To broker peace?”
“Exactly. This turmoil has ravaged Feralden for nearly a year now, to the point Orlais is getting involved- “
“Aren’t they in the middle of their own civil war? Do humans ever stop fighting each other?”
“Not to my knowledge - look we’ll be here all day if you keep asking questions. The main thing you need to know is to lay low and follow my lead. We’re here to get information for Keeper Volen and get out before shit hits the ceiling. Do you have enough potions for a long-term protection spell?”
The younger shifted her cloak to reveal a cross-body potions belt, aglow with red and blue liquid in multiple tiny flasks.
Nym began to stand, adjusting her gloves.
“Pray to Elgar ’nan it’s enough.”
The Conclave, as many referred to the event, lasted for most of the day. It began with a private council of many leaders in one of the newly furnished chambers, with members of each faction instructed to keep the peace outside. After their brief discussion, a recess had been called, allowing each party to speak amongst themselves. Divine Justina and many of her closest advisors discussed treaty options in a quiet corner, while royal ambassadors flittered around between the warriors and mages alike.
Once the women had made it inside, they had come to find that not every group had sent a true leader. Some, such as the rebel mages, did not have their Grand Enchantress, instead sending a representative while Fiona rested in an undisclosed location.
From their perch atop a stone staircase, the sisters watched as dignitaries rushed to and from. The courtyard they overlooked had once been a corridor, however, Nym overheard two grey wardens discussing this was the exact spot the Hero of Feralden and her companions had slain a dragon and cultists who had once called it home. During the reconstruction, the damaged floor and walls had been torn out, leaving an open area large enough to accommodate the hundreds of people gathered inside.
Nym scribbled notes inside of her journal, somewhere between the common language and elven. Every few minutes, Aravas would lower the barrier spell to drink her potion, and they would slip behind the tallest rock. With Aravas’s spells and Nym’s heightened senses, the two were certain they had passed through the ranks unnoticed.
Chatter within the courtyard began to slow.
“Whenever you’re ready, we’ll head back down there,” Nym instructed, switching out her parchment paper for a ram leather-wrapped bow. She peeked over the rock, noticing the groups separate once more. Divine Justina, in her ivory and crimson robes, led the march and began to speak with her hand held high calling for attention.
“She’s starting the final talks, let’s move – Aravas?”
The elf whipped her head around to find her sibling hunched over, pale fingers bunching locks of pearl hair against her skull. Nym rushed over, notching an arrow and searching around for the cause of her sister’s pain.
“What’s wrong?”
“My head!” She cried, curling into herself on the floor. Her violet eyes glistened with tears, staring up in Nym’s direction. Her body shook violently, voice cracking with each word.
“Something’s wrong – there’s someone – “
A terrible screech echoed through the room. Nym shot to her feet, an arrow aimed to kill, and scanned the crowd for the source. While she could not see whom the screech originated, there was a panic sweeping the halls. Every mage was doubled over or collapsed in pain, spare the grey warden soldiers in their silver-and-blue plated armor. Chantry priests bustled around, some passing pain elixirs while others raced mindlessly around, yelling orders at soldiers. One Orlesian royal, she could tell by the elaborate mask he bore, leaped atop the tallest rubble of stones he could find.
“The Divine is gone!”
Her breathing quickened – no divine, no treaty, and every mage including her sister was rendered defenseless. She searched the air for an answer, noticing what seemed to be a shield covering the empty air above the yard. The energy field began to shrink closer and closer to the crowd, passing directly over their secluded staircase. Wardens had moved from within the cluster to the perimeter of the corridor, hands aglow and outstretched. The remaining people left within the barrier, rogues and warriors alike, began to quake with the same pain of the magicians. An incoherent chant echoed louder and louder from the wardens moving further inward until all remaining members of the conclave were writhing in pain. Green energy pulsed between the wardens upholding the perimeter.
Aravas’s cries softened to stuttering exhales, causing Nym to nearly drop her bow.
“This is no normal magic!” Aravas gripped her sister’s sleeve with the strength of a bear, digging her nails through the tattered fabric.
“Blood magic?” Nym questioned, holding her sister’s head to her chest until her frantic breathing subsided.
“We have to find the divine.” Her sister’s tone was darker, more serious than before. Nym overlooked her with mere confusion.
“The DIVINE? You’re insane! We have to leave! Before we get caught, or, or worse!”
“No, Nadasnym, we have to find the divine!”
Nym, taken aback by the use of her full name, released her sibling. Anguished cries from below sent chills down her neck. The wardens had moved to slaughter.
“Fine. We find the divine.”