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"I understand your trepidation, Sabriel, but I don't think my input is truly necessary here."
Rook paused in Emmrich's doorway, worried he was suddenly intruding on an important conversation. Both necromancers turned to look at him in tandem— one anxious, the other serene, if concerned.
"Ah, Rook, perhaps you can lend a hand here," Emmrich said congenially, gesturing for Rook to approach. "Sabriel was just asking me for some assistance with a favor from the Necropolis."
"Sounds like she picked the right person to me," Rook joked, glancing at Sabriel as she started anxiously wringing her hands, "But I'm happy to pitch in if there's something I can do."
There was silence for a moment, before Emmrich cleared his throat. "We were discussing the possibility of visiting one of the restricted Watcher archives. As a Junior Watcher, Sabriel would require permission from a more senior member—"
"As an outsider to the Watch, I require permission from Watcher leadership, as well as supervision within the archive itself," Sabriel interrupted, causing Emmrich to purse his lips.
"I assure you, Sabriel, you can visit in your capacity as a Watcher with very little objection—"
"Hold on, Emmrich." Rook held up a hand as Sabriel opened her mouth to argue with him again. "Let me see if I've got the details right here. Sabriel needs to look into something in a Watcher library. I assume based on what happened in Rivain?" He looked to her, and she nodded in affirmation.
"My discussion with the spirit reminded me of Mourn Watch encounters with something deep in the Necropolis. I wanted to see if we had any more information." Her voice was calmly professional, despite her obvious anxiety in the way she was rubbing one palm with her thumb.
"Okay. And in order to do that, we need some kind of permission from a ranking officer in the Watch. And it seems you both have different ideas of who we need to talk to? Is that what's happening?"
Emmrich put on hand on his hip, tapping his desktop with the knuckles on his other hand. "Sabriel believes we need to submit a request to Lady Myrna, and that such a request would have more weight if I were the one to make it. And were it you or one of our other compatriots requiring access, she would be correct." He looked up at Rook, ignoring Sabriel's look of consternation. "But in this case, Sabriel is a Watcher. She should just need to request an escort from a Senior Watcher with archive access."
Rook looked back to Sabriel. "If that's a simpler solution, why not give it a try?"
Her fidgeting suddenly stopped, and instead she stood stock-still, staring at the floor. "I…am not a member of the Watch at present. That was made clear when I was asked to leave. Thus, that is not a request I have the privilege of making."
Emmrich frowned. "That is perhaps the public narrative, but I assure you Senior Watcher Van Markham—"
"Does not wish to speak to me. I would sooner throw myself at the mercy of the Evanuris than live with the knowledge that he threw a missive from me away without reading it." Emotion bled into Sabriel's voice, and her hands had started to shake. "…Excuse me, I'm sorry for troubling you with this matter."
She fled the room, pushing past Rook too quickly for him to be able to reach out and stop her.
He and Emmrich stood in silence for a moment, staring at the open office door.
"Well. That went even more poorly than I had feared," Emmrich sighed, sinking into his desk chair, "I knew the situation was complicated, but it seems it is far more fraught than I originally understood."
Rook turned back around and took a few steps towards the desk. "So you don't think she's been expelled from the Watch?"
Leaning back, Emmrich hummed thoughtfully. "Would you consider yourself expelled from the Shadow Dragons because you were asked to leave Minrathous for a time?"
"I don't know if the Shadow Dragons are comparable to the Watch, Emmrich," Rook said doubtfully, crossing his arms.
"The point remains, however. It's quite obvious to me that the Viper and other leaders of the Shadow Dragons value your presence and input, so even though you were nominally punished for your actions, your standing is functionally unharmed." He waved a hand towards the open office door. "Sabriel's situation is much the same. While the political fallout was on a grander scale than your predicament, the conclusion remains the same: Sabriel belongs to the Watch and would be welcomed back at a moment's notice."
"Then why is she so convinced that isn't the case?"
Emmrich sighed. "I have a suspicion it has to do with her reaction to hearing Heinrich Van Markham's name. It seems something occurred between them around the time she was exiled, and the negativity has festered."
Rook tilted his head. "And uh. Who exactly is Heinrich Van Markham?"
"He's quite an influential member of the Watch, as well as Sabriel's—" Emmrich stopped, folding his hands on his desk. "Well. Perhaps you should inquire with Sabriel herself, if you want to know more."
Rook must have made a face, because suddenly Emmrich laughed. "She is reluctant to divulge information, but she trusts you. Perhaps you will be able to convince her in a way I cannot."
"And you're confident your assessment of the situation is accurate?" He didn't want to doubt Emmrich, but Sabriel clearly felt very strongly about her situation, so it was hard to tell who was right here.
Emmrich nodded, not offended in the slightest. "I have it on the word of Vorgoth themself. 'The Necropolis clamors for her resonance,' I believe it was."
Rook raised his eyes to the ceiling. "No offense Emmrich, but I don't think I'll ever get used to the way you guys talk about things."
"You've proven yourself very adaptable, all things considered," Emmrich chuckled quietly. "Though you have my apologies for handing you another problem to solve."
Rook waved that thought away as he turned to exit the room. "I was going to bother her about it eventually. Might as well grab the druffalo by the horns, right?"
Stupid, stupid Sabriel. Overemotional, unprofessional, embarrassment to the Watch—
The first thing Sabriel did when she got back to her room was crawl under her blanket to hide from everything: her inability to control herself, her fear at the idea of talking to Heinrich again, the looming threat she feared was lurking in the depths of the Necropolis, and especially the way she had acted in front of Rook.
How were they supposed to trust her as a medic when she was having silly emotional outbursts over minor disagreements in procedure? She wasn't even sure Emmrich was wrong.
She just didn't want to find out.
She curled into her bed tightly, wishing she could vanish into the Fade like a spirit. She tried to concentrate on her breathing — one of the calming exercises they were taught as apprentices, one that had never failed her up until now.
In, hold, out. In. Hold. Out.
In.
Hold.
There was a soft knock on her door.
Her breath rushed out of her all at once, her heart leaping in her chest again.
Please don't be Rook, please don't be Rook, please don't—
"Sabriel? It's Rhys. Can I talk to you for a bit?"
Blood and darkness. He had even used his actual name.
She briefly contemplated not opening the door. She didn't have to talk to him, after all. But she knew, deep down, that he needed to know what was going on. And if not now, he would try again later. He was stubborn like that.
Crawling out from under the blanket, she hurriedly reset her bed so it wouldn't be an unsightly mess— then quickly did the same for her cloud of hair.
She crossed the room, scrubbing her hands over her face and praying her eyes weren't too puffy. With a deep breath, she opened the door.
"Hello, Rook." She knew there was no point in pretending to be her usual cheerful self, but she still strove for polite neutrality at the minimum.
He gave her an easy smile, his relaxed posture aimed at keeping her calm. "Mind if I come in?"
She quietly stepped out of the doorway and gestured for him to come inside. "I um. Don't have a lot of places to sit, but…"
"I'll take the chair, if that's all right?" He was being so careful with her. She resisted the urge to start picking at her nails, her chest tight.
"That's…yes, that's fine."
She stayed where she was, standing in the front of the room, looking at him without seeing as Rook settled onto her one chair.
"So. Let's start with the easy part: what did you find out from Rowan?"
She jumped, re-focusing her eyes and trying to pay attention to the present. She hadn't expected him to start there. "Not…much, to be honest. Just enough to point to the Necropolis as a likely location for…whatever is causing this turmoil in the Fade." She dropped her gaze to her feet. "It was…a struggle to understand what the spirit was talking about. That doesn't usually happen to me…"
Rook hummed. "Well you don't usually talk to channeled spirits. And maybe the spirits in Rivain have learned to communicate differently. The good news is, you got a lead and we know where to go with it." He leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. "Now, how we approach that, on the other hand…"
Sabriel tensed visibly.
With a somber smile, Rook leaned forward again. "Sabriel. I'm not going to make you do something you don't want to do. If you feel that reaching out to Lady Myrna is our best option, I'll follow your lead." With a sigh, he rubbed the back of his head. "But I can't help but feel I'm missing…a lot about the current situation."
Contemplating the floor for a long moment, Sabriel attempted to steel her nerves. Rook was right: he needed to know the backstory, especially if this situation was going to escalate in the way she feared.
"All right."
She shuffled her way over to her bed, settling on top of it so that she'd be on the same level as Rook. "I um. I don't really know where to start, though…"
Rook spun the chair around to look at her. "Let's start with why Emmrich seems to think you're fine to return to the Watch, but you don't agree. What happened, exactly, when you left Nevarra?"
She cringed. A sensible place to start perhaps, but not something she wanted to revisit.
"…What do you know about the War of the Banners?"
The uprising had gone on long enough that they had named it.
The War of the Banners.
Sabriel felt the term "war" was rather inauspicious. At present, it mostly consisted of skirmishes between the Watch and the undead. The greatest "war" was in Council chambers and at dining tables, debating the fates of thousands over glasses of wine.
Master Heinrich had warned her not to get involved— to just follow orders, keep her head down, and ride out the situation.
But it was getting worse. The undead were making headway because the Watch wasn't taking their incursions seriously. Bernhardt had to drag Alfonse's unconscious body off the battlefield just three days before.
It didn't matter that Alfonse would make a full recovery. There were other Watchers that wouldn't be coming back.
No one from the Watch leadership was keeping them updated on attempts to resolve the situation peacefully. Baron Van Markham clearly had no intention of backing down either.
Did the noblility even care what would happen when the undead began drifting out of the Necropolis? Or were they confident that enough Watchers would lay down their lives in order to protect them? What would happen if the undead nobility got more sway within Nevarra?
Frustration and anger pulsed through her system as she treated yet another injured Watcher, easing the necrotic energy out of the wound on their leg. She forced herself to calm once she began stitching their flesh back together— agitation did one no good when it came to precise work.
"Now, keep the bandage clean and dry, and come back in a day or two. We should be able to make sure it doesn't scar." She smiled at her patient, maintaining her careful professionalism and concealing the anger simmering beneath her skin. "But you're cleared to return to your dormitory for the night, as long as you use the cane properly, all right?"
With dazed gratitude, the Watcher slowly exited the infirmary. She could hear the quiet thump of the cane fade into nothing as they got farther and farther from her doorway.
With a sigh, she washed her hands, cleaned up the area around the cot they had just occupied, and let her hair down.
"You should probably take a break, Sabi."
Right. Alfonse was still here.
Unlike most of the comrades she had treated, he had taken a particularly nasty blow to the head. That meant he was stuck here while they made sure it didn't addle him too badly.
"I'm fine." She turned and gave him a reassuring smile. "There was only the one encounter today, so we've been pretty light on patients." Grabbing a stool, she pulled up next to his cot. "But since you're awake now, we should probably do a quick check-up."
He flopped back against his pillows with a groan. "I've been here for days Sabi. I'm fine now."
"If we confirm that, maybe you can head back to the dorms soon." She stifled a laugh. Alfonse wasn't usually prone to theatrics, but people changed when they were in need of care. She was grateful he was one of the ones that leaned more amusing rather than aggressive.
Taking one of his hands in hers, she pressed her fingers into the center of his palm, her spell forming a wisp of incense as it left her mouth. A pale green glow suffused the room as the smoke wrapped its way around his body, a gentle scent clinging to his skin.
After a few moments, the spell faded and Sabriel opened her eyes. "Well it turns out you're correct." She smiled at him. "You're recovering very well. I'll check in with the Head Medic and see if we can get you back home tonight."
A quiet, girlish gasp came from the doorway. Both Sabriel and Alfonse's heads snapped towards the sound.
"Alfie's all better? Really?" Miriam stood in the doorway, hands over her mouth in surprise. "You mean it, Sabi?"
Alfonse sighed. "Miri, I told you. You can't keep coming back here to bother people about—"
Sabriel rested a hand on his arm to quiet him. "Yes, Miriam. He's good as new."
Sabriel suddenly found herself crushed into Miriam's chest, listening to the Qunari girl sob in relief.
"Thank you Sabi! We were so worried about him, he was so pale—"
Sabriel gently patted Miriam's back, sighing good-naturedly. "I know. It's been…a lot, these past few months. You've been very brave."
"Miri, don't crush our best healer to death," Alfonse said, fondly exasperated.
"Oop!" Miriam released Sabriel from her hold with a start. "I'm sorry Sabi, I'm sure you have more work to do and here I am crying all over your clothes!" She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "Umm…is it ok if I stay here for a little while?"
"Stay as long as you like." Sabriel gently nudged her towards the bedside stool. "I'm going to go check in with the rest of the team and then I'll be back to make sure you're good to head home, ok?"
Alfonse nodded and opened his mouth to say something else, but Sabriel turned and left before the conversation could go on any longer. He had looked worried, and she didn't need more concern at the moment.
She needed to take action.
Reacting to provocations from the undead wasn't going to work anymore. And if this kept up much longer, the people she cared about would suffer. Her classmates deserved better than that.
It was time to gather some spirits and get the wisps to work.
She was going to find a way to put this rebellion down for good.
She had always known there would be consequences. It was part of the plan from the beginning: make sure that the fallout was on her and her alone. The wisps couldn't be punished in any real way, and the Watch wouldn't risk their good standing with the Necropolis spirits in order to spark another, worse conflict than the undead uprising.
She had gotten what she wanted.
That didn't make facing the consequences any easier.
"Are you going to explain yourself?" Master Heinrich's voice was soft and cold. Of course he was disappointed in her, but he was angry at her as well, the ice-cold fury in his eyes almost more than she could bear.
Almost.
She sat ramrod straight in her chair, feeling every bit like she was about to engage in combat rather than sitting at tea in her guardian's solarium.
"I feel the results of my actions are explanation in and of themselves," She responded neutrally, her emotions tightly controlled for the moment. She could not show weakness, not now.
"Which results? The rage of the nobility that the Council must now quell? The danger you have put yourself and the rest of the Watch in?" His voice was rising. That was a bad sign.
She refused to back down. "It is the responsibility of the Council and nobles to resolve political issues. It is the responsibility of the Watchers to protect the living from the dead. I did my duty, and they must now do theirs." She took a sip of her tea, the shake of her hands just barely perceptible.
"Sabriel Ingellvar." Oh. He was very angry now. "Did I not make it abundantly clear throughout your education that the one thing you were not to do is run afoul of nobility? With a particular focus on the Van Markham bloodline?"
She swallowed. "I know you prize your independence from your family line, Master Heinrich, but that doesn't entitle us to—"
"You think this is about me?" His voice dropped again, incredulous and low. "You think I tried to protect you from them because I was avoiding their scrutiny?" He laughed, mirthless. "A significant failure on my part, indeed."
"No, Master Heinrich that's not—"
"Not it? What then? What did you think was the purpose of that lesson? You know very well how those with power behave, and I was under the impression you were always well aware of your place among the Watch—"
"They were killing us!" Sabriel shouted, for once daring to interrupt her mentor. "I couldn't just stand by and watch more of my cohort fall to the whims of the undead! When we say the Watch is meant to protect the living from the dead, does that not also include ourselves?!"
Master Heinrich clenched his teeth, breaking eye contact with her. He took a deep breath in, held it, and then slowly let it go.
"So I see you completely lack remorse for your actions."
The anger left Sabriel's body almost as quickly as it came. She slumped back into her chair. "If I have to die for the rest of the Junior Watchers to survive, it is an outcome I am prepared for."
She didn't want to die, of course. But she knew execution could be on the table— unlikely, perhaps, but not impossible.
"You—" Master Heinrich pinched the bridge of his nose, looking more and more like he regretted ever having this conversation. "We will see what the Council decides. Until then, you are to remain here on effective house arrest."
With that, he stood and left the room without so much as a glance back.
"…After that, my sentence was handed down by Vorgoth and Lady Myrna. I had to pack and leave within the day."
Sabriel's voice was dull, lifeless. This wasn't a tale she enjoyed recounting, and reliving it hurt worse than she thought it would.
"So…that's how you wound up in Minrathous then."
She blinked, pulling herself back into the present. Rook was looking at her with such…sadness. Immediately, she broke eye contact and stared at the floor, playing with the ends of her hair anxiously.
"I knew…being an elf in Tevinter was dangerous, but it seemed…easier than being a mage anywhere else. Rivain felt so far away, and that was the only other place I could think of to go."
Rook sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And you haven't spoken to this Master Heinrich since you left?"
She shook her head. "Since that argument."
"Hmm." Rook hummed, crossing his arms, "No wonder you don't want to ask him for a favor. But…" He furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you…all right? Leaving it like that?"
Sabriel drooped. She should have known Rook was going to poke that bruise. "Not…really…" She dropped the strand of hair she was twirling. "But I'm not…ready to ask for forgiveness. I don't deserve it."
Rook was silent for a moment, leaving her to worry that he was going to argue with her. She didn't want to be convinced otherwise.
"All right." He nodded, slapping his knees as he stood up all of a sudden. "I get it. I was scared to go back to the Shadows too, when we first got started. I…" He grimaced. "Still haven't spoken to my father since I left with Varric, so I think I understand." With a supportive smile, he put his hands on his hips. "We'll focus on talking to Myrna for now."
She sighed in relief. "Thank you, Rook. Maybe once we figure out what's going on with this spirit…"
"Take it one step at a time. I'll be here to help you when you're ready." Rook rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.
Sabriel rested her hand on top of his, a shaky smile on her face. "Thank you, Rook." She glanced down for a moment. "And umm. I'll apologize for snapping at Emmrich. I know he was just trying to help."
Rook barked a laugh. "Sorry, I just. If that was you snapping—"
"Rook!"
"Okay, okay!" He chuckled quietly. "It's just. That was the politest disagreement I've ever seen. Watchers really are something else."
"Well. I suppose after you heard about Taash calling him a "skullfucker," it would seem that way." Sabriel sighed quietly.
Rook stared at her, eyes wide. "…I think that's the first time I've ever heard you say "fuck.""
Ears turning red, Sabriel turned away hurriedly. "I-It behooves one to use exact quotes when discussing a past transgression!"
Her face reddened further and further as Rook threw his head back and laughed.
"Was it really that surprising…?"
Slowly catching his breath, Rook wiped his eyes. "Sorry…but yeah. It really was." He grinned at her. "You can let loose more often, you know. No one will hold it against you."
She tilted her head in consideration. "I don't really know how..." A soft smile spread across her face. "But maybe I'll try."
"One step at a time," Rook repeated with a nod. "For now, that means dinner. I heard Lucanis is making some kind of Rivaini curry with lentils tonight." He gave her a sidelong look, almost grinning, but not quite. "Seems like he's been interested in cooking more dishes without meat lately."
Sabriel blinked. It seemed like he was hinting at something, but she wasn't really sure she was catching on. "Maybe Emmrich gave him some suggestions?"
Rook's expression faltered. She had clearly missed something.
With a rueful chuckle, he shook his head. "Maybe, maybe. Anyway, c'mon, you've gotta be hungry after all of that."
Sabriel followed Rook out of her room. She didn't feel lighter, necessarily, after sharing her sordid history, but…she was looking forward to a warm meal, surrounded by good company.
Whatever came after, she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone.