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They keep switching them around for the first few… weeks? Months? She’s not sure. It doesn’t seem to serve any purpose, except maybe to keep them from organizing with the people in the neighboring cells but what could they even organize for? They might be locked up but the Elder One likes to gloat. They know what’s outside, they’ve all seen the hordes of demons.
“What an excellent choice of allies, dear,” says Vivienne two months in when they find themselves next to each other. Her tone is drier than the desert.
She wishes she could argue but their situation speaks for itself. She refuses to feel guilty for Vivienne, though.
“I would have liked to see you do better,” she says but it comes out a lot less sarcastic and a lot more sincere than she planned.
She can’t help but wonder if Vivienne would have done better. They’ve been at odds since they’ve met and she had plenty of time to get to know her strengths and weaknesses. Maybe Vivienne, with her natural talent to manipulate a situation until she came out on top, would have found another way. Maybe if she could make her see the value in their cause and they worked together…
Maybe. Maybe Vivienne would have died fighting with all her allies, her pride stronger than her wish to save their lives at the cost of selling out to Tevinter. Maybe she couldn’t have been used as bait for the only person who apparently could have stopped the Elder One.
She knows, logically, that if she refused the alliance the Elder One could have captured the Herald in some other way. It doesn’t change the fact that she helped to bring the end of the world.
“That doesn’t seem like a challenge.” Vivienne knows it too.
“If you helped us we would have had more options than Tevinter,” she claps back with the thought that’s been prickling in the back of her head ever since Vivienne showed up in Redcliffe.
She can hear her taking a deep breath on the other side of the bars, no doubt gearing up for this next round of the same argument they’ve been having for years now but Cassandra Pentaghast in the cell across is faster.
“Can you two stop arguing for five minutes?” she snaps at them.
Vivienne huffs in that typical Vivienne way.
“Conserve your energy, Cassandra darling,” she says.
Cassandra sinks back into prayer and Fiona is left blinking at the bars. Madame de Fer, letting go of a fight? Without asserting her superiority?
She can’t see her sitting down so she slowly, painstakingly pulls herself up to stand. Her legs are stiff and every move is painful, when she makes the mistake to look down the red lyrium shards sticking out of her muscles gleam in the light of the torches. She looks away and takes deep breaths to fight down the nausea.
Breathing doesn’t hurt. Yet. She tries to ignore the explanation that Alexius gave, back in the first few weeks before he handed them over to his Venatori underlings. He made sure they all knew what getting infected with red lyrium meant. At the time she thought it was gloating, the way he described the process in scientific detail, but every piece of information got locked into her brain, unforgettable, inescapable. Whatever were his motives, his words made sure they became their own worst torturers.
Her knee cracks but she gets to the bars, clings to them to stay upright and peeks into the other cell.
Vivienne is sitting with her back against the wall. She doesn’t have shards sticking out of her skin but her wounds are alight with that horrible red glow. The floor is smeared with her blood, a reminder of the incident (a week ago? two weeks?) when a Venatori decided she was too haughty and needed to be taken down a peg. Fiona used to share the sentiment, once upon a time, but…
She looks up and Fiona shatters anew. She thinks she would welcome the blame, the insults, the judgement, everything Madame de Fer could throw at her if she never had to see that expression on her face.
“Don’t be foolish now, dear,” she says when she sees her staring. The tone is right but there is no fire behind it, just endless resignation that radiates from her look, her posture, her whole being. “Sit down.”
She does. She almost crumbles, both from the pain in her legs and the reality that squeezes her by the throat and makes her dizzy.
Vivienne gave up. Madame de Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, Court Enchanter of Empress Celene and her greatest rival gave up.
Could they ever come back from this?
She almost snorts at the thought.
Leliana's screams are enough answer.