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sailorshadzter · 5 years

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in another world, sansa & daenerys might have been friends.

id like to write more about this, maybe even more on the “true” friendship side vs this take i took. anyways, this was fun and different to write and someday ill do more with it.

"The mother of dragons, my lady."

The announcement of the Targaryen queen to her own personal chambers surprised her, but Sansa kept her face passive as the door opened and she walked in. Though she knew it was proper and courteous to rise for her arrival, Sansa remained settled in her chair, yards of fabric draped over her legs. "Your grace," she greeted with a cool smile, settling her blue eyes upon the young woman. She wasn't much older than Sansa herself, but her beauty was far beyond hers. Sansa could not stop the fresh wave of jealousy towards her; she would never know what it was like to be so beautiful, so small and delicate, like the petals of a winter rose. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" She tried to do her part of making the dragon queen feel welcome, but she could not forget what Jon had whispered to her the day of their arrival. Believe in me, he had whispered, his breath warm against the shell of her ear, reminding her of the night they'd spent alone before he had left for Dragonstone. They'd not had much time together since Jon had returned, bringing with him this beautiful queen, and Sansa could not help but to feel somewhat put off by him. She knew what was at stake here and she hated herself for her damn jealousy, but hard as she tried, she could not shake it.

"I should like to be friends, Lady Stark." Daenerys spoke, her command of their language as if she'd been born speaking it, though her accent was misplaced among the Northerners. "I have been told quite a deal about you, though we've not yet had a chance to truly meet beyond our first meeting." In truth, it was Tyrion that was pushing her to befriend the Lady Sansa Stark. Shameful as it was to admit, Daenerys could not help but to feel jealousy towards the young woman. She was beautiful- tall and thin like a willow tree, with long red hair that must have felt like silk. And perhaps Jon did not realize it, but she could see how he looked at her, at this half sister of his. It was the way she wished he would look at her. It was true, they had spent a night together before coming to Winterfell, but looking back... It had not felt the way coupling had felt with men prior. Daenerys hadn't been able to place the strange feel to it, but perhaps now she was beginning to understand... But, she'd not come to Lady Stark's chambers to mope about her brother. No, she knew well now that the North backed this young woman. They would crown her Queen in the North without hesitation, as they had once crowned Jon. The Lords would not back her unless Sansa Stark said so. And so, she would have to befriend the eldest Stark child and hope in the end she would have her backing for the Iron Throne.

"If it is Jon or Tyrion telling you things, I'm afraid you will be disappointed." Sansa said with a smile, carefully slipping her needle into the fabric she had been working on. It was lovely fabric, perhaps the nicest fabric she'd worked with yet. At first glance, it seemed black, but in the light it shined green and blue, much like the scales of a fish, and was textured as such. Just a few more stitches here and there and the gown would be complete, ready to be worn at the next meeting with the Lord's. "Jon gives me too much credit and Tyrion was always overly kind to me during our time together in King's Landing." She wondered if the imp had ever told this Daenerys Targaryen that they'd once been wed.

Daenerys smiled, leaning forward on her elbows to carefully inspect the fabric Sansa had been sewing. "I think you should give yourself more credence, I have heard from many about you, even since arriving here." That was the truth. Yes, Tyrion had told her quite a bit her, about her abuse in King's Landing. Dany felt for the girl, truthfully she did. Were they both not products of a man's dark, cruel world? She knew little else, other than she'd been married to a man named Bolton, a bastard of a Northern lord, but Jon had went to war against him and thus reclaimed Winterfell in the name of the Starks. But, she knew little else. Looking into the young woman's eyes though, Dany could see she had suffered, that she had been abused far more than Tyrion had ever let on. In ways that no woman should ever suffer. In ways she herself had suffered, too. But more than all of that... Daenerys could tell how beloved she was to her people, to these Northerners. They spoke to her with respect beyond that of the King's sister, or the daughter of their previous Lord. They spoke to her with admiration in their eyes and bowed in her presence, as if she were a queen herself. And they did it of their own free will, these Northern men and lords. They adored Sansa Stark and from what she had collected, they had since the day of her birth. "This is lovely," she commented, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the fabric. "Jon told me you are quite good at sewing." Dany looked up and violet eyes met blue, Sansa's lips curving with the first glimpse of a true smile.

"Thank you," she replied, giving in for just a moment, spreading the fabric of the dress out so the dragon queen could see its shape, its design. "My mother taught me... To sew, that is." Sansa smiled deeper, recalling those early days of her youth when her mother had first taught her to make those tiny, precise stitches. "Surely you must sew just as well, if not better than I." Sansa could not imagine a princess who could not sew, a queen that was not taught all of the womanly duties a future queen must know.

To her surprise, Daenerys shook her head. "No, I never was taught." She admitted, running her hand along the scaled fabric. "My mother died just after my birth and after that I was with my brother." There had been no women in her young life to teach her such a thing. "Do you make all of your dresses?" She recalled the two dark gowns she'd seen the girl in thus far, both made in the Northern style, her furs elegant touches. Sansa nodded and to her surprise, blushed when Dany complimented her skills. "Truly, I do not think I could even make a stitch, let alone a gown." This earned her a little chuckle, surprising Dany yet again. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought... In all honesty, she found it easy to like Sansa, the girl was quite charming when she let down her guard.

"I could teach you, if you'd like." Sansa said then, her blue eyes seeking out Dany's violet. "I have this lovely silk that would look nice with your hair," silk was a fabric far too thin to be useful in the North, especially during the long winter. And though she had once dreamed of wearing silk gowns and golden crowns, such dreams were long gone. She knew her duty to Jon, to ensuring this easily provoked queen felt welcomed and at ease in the North. At least for now, until the Night King was destroyed. But... Despite wanting to be cold and distant, Sansa could not help but to be charmed by the dragon queen. She was friendly enough, but her smile was easy-going and her strange colored eyes vibrant. Besides... Teaching her to sew would be a welcome change to the life she'd grown used to living; a life where war was all around them. For even an hour, she might pretend life was normal again.

"I should like that," Dany said honestly, sitting up straighter in her chair. "It might be nice to talk of something other than war and strategy. To do something a normal woman might do." For a moment, Sansa was surprised by the queen's choice of words, but recovered a moment later, a smile taking place on her lips.

"First, I you must learn a basic stitch," Sansa said, rising up from her chair, carefully laying her almost completed dress across her bed. "I shall show you." She returned to her chair, pulling it closer to Daenerys', fishing in her sewing basket for a scrap of linen and a fresh needle. "Like this." She demonstrated by pumping the needle in and out of the fabric, leaving behind a neat little line of stitches. Handing the fabric across to Daenerys, she watched as she carefully tried to make the first stitch, but grimaced when she stuck her thumb instead. "Careful," Sansa giggled without remorse, reaching out to place Daenerys' hands to get a better angle. They worked at it together, talking over things like their childhood's and even their dreams left behind. Before long, Sansa was complimenting Daenerys' first line of neat little stitches, bringing a smile to her face. As she opened her mouth to speak, a knock sounded on the chamber door and Sansa raised her head towards it as she called out permission to enter.

It was Jon there in her doorway, his dark eyes darting from one face to the other, his surprise at their close proximity evident. But Sansa was smiling upon him, unspoken words falling between them, a perfect understanding. "I've come to tell you supper is to be served." He recovered enough to speak, finally taking his eyes from Sansa to fall upon the dragon queen, who was smiling down at the sewing in her hands. For the first time since he'd met her, Daenerys looked like a normal woman.

From behind him, Ser Davos appeared, always close by when he was needed most. Jon allowed him to step into the room at his side, his smile gallant as he offered his arm to the dragon queen. "Might I escort you, your grace?" Daenerys smiled back at him, rising up when Sansa had taken the sewing from her. With a nod, she put her hand to the older man's elbow, allowing him to steer her from the room only after bidding goodbye to the Stark siblings.

The moment the door had closed, Jon turned to her, uncertain as to what to say. He knew how hard this had to be for Sansa... Giving up her home to this foreign queen after only just getting it back. He was proud of her, for all she had done so far. "You're teaching her to sew?" He asked, watching as she placed the fabric squares back into the basket at her feet. "You looked like a pair of normal women." He went on as she rose up, coming to stand before him, her rosy lips curved with a smile. Jon could not stop himself from reaching for her, drawing her into a warm embrace. "Can we speak... Tonight?" He murmured against her hair, breathing in her sweet scent. He'd missed her more than words could ever explain. Since his return to Winterfell two days before, he'd yet to have a chance to sit and talk with her... And more. He longed to hold her as he had done the night before leaving for Dragonstone. "Tell me you will come to my rooms tonight."

For a long moment, she allowed herself to grow warm in his arms. When Jon held her, she felt safe, a feeling she had once thought she'd never feel again. When he spoke, she could not help but to laugh, drawing back to peer into his face. "I will." She promised with a smile, taking his arm when he offered it to her a few moments later. They would make their way down to the great hall and have dinner, then she might spend some more time with this foreign queen, or perhaps see to some of the North's affairs. But then it was as she'd promised Jon, she'd visit his rooms that night, where they would finally have a chance to speak of all that had happened. Finally, they might catch one another up on all things the other had missed. And maybe... They might spend another night wrapped in each other's arms.

#sansa stark #daenerys targaryen #also jonsa #jonsa #got fanfic #i think in a different time they could have been friends #well an entirely different story really lol #but still #i just want sansa to have one female friend she can rely on #i loved margaery but even she was just nice to sansa to get things from her #i want sansa to have a TRUE and PURE female friendship #she deserves that #anyways #long tags are long #my writing #i wrote this

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lorelaisgilmoresarchive-blog · 6 years

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- ̗̀ ❝ i solemnly swear i am up to no good: marauders verse !!

*evil laughter* my dreaaaam has finally come trueeee!! my time to shine has come, and my harry potter knowledge will finally be appreciated? too much? probably but idc i’m excited ya’ll!!, but anyway let’s talk characters, my kids below the cut!!

alice fortescue..*

full name: alice minerva fortescue

blood status: pure-blood

house & year : gryffindor ;; 7th year

wand: 10 ½ in. applewood wand with a dragon heartstring core ; unyielding

patronus: dolphin ;; the witch or wizard who casts this patronus is known to be adventurous, playful, and carefree ; incredibly unique individuals, quite often social and loved by most. inquisitive and full of life they understand the importance of not taking themselves too seriously.

boggart: spiders, she absolutely loathes them one of her worst fears is to end up in a place surrounded by them. ( she’s had dreams where she is covered in them and that’s driven her to have panic attacks. )

extra curriculars: chaser for the gryffindor quidditch team ;; dueling club, care of magical creatures club and astronomy club.

future aspirations: auror for the ministry of magic & member of the order of the phoenix

sunshine personified, miss alice is literally always putting a positive spin on everything. little witch looks for the best in everyone and would befriend a scorpion if people let her. however that’s the trick when it comes to alice, she may be soft and gooey on the outside but she’s a rock on the inside. underestimating her is probably the last thing anyone should ever do. she lives in diagon alley above florean fortescue’s which is the family business. her dad is the willy wonka of ice-cream ( u know eccentric genius type lmao. ) she has 3 older brothers, all part of the order and her mom is a healer at st.mungos. excluded from the sacred 28 bc they unconventional and v. vocal about their support for muggles and muggle borns. in fact alice loves muggle fairy-tales and she tried making a book club at hogwarts but she forgot when the meetings were lmao. ( i could go on i’ve played her so many times and i adore her so pls )

andromeda black... *

full name: andromeda black

blood status: pure-blood

wand: 10 3/4 inch hawthorn wand with a unicorn hair core, unbending.

house & year : slytherin ;; 6th year

patronus: owl ;; symbolizes a strong aura of wisdom, and individuals with it shine intellectually. They are not very social people, but they tend to be very admired for the impression their blatant knowledge of the world. Others tend to be comfortable going to these persons for advice, because they know they are trustworthy.

boggart: her sisters forgetting who she is, aka seeing a boggart version of bella or cissy who refuse to acknowledge her or ask her who she is will send her into a spiral.

extra curriculars: 6th year prefect for slytherin house, slug club & transfigurations club

future aspirations: healer for st. mungos. wishes to remain neutral in the war to come.

from the most ancient house of black, andromeda is the 2nd and middle child she has an older sister and a younger one. her sisters are her entire life, bella and cissy are her world so literally don’t breathe near them she will end you. tends to be an observer more than she is someone who carries out conversations. very much one of those ‘ one word ‘ sort of people, unless she’s with someone she trusts. she appears rigid and can intimidate those who don’t know her. however once you get past her tough exterior she is incredibly kind. respectful of everyone, and very much a believer of treat me the way you want to be treated. now while she isn’t exactly a fan of muggles or muggleborns she isn’t against them? ( tbh someone pick up ted we can plot stuffs. ) like she’s not okay with the cruelty that people of her status show them but she is also bound by tradition. she is very loyal to her family, respects her parents and most importantly wishes to make them proud so it’s like a constant struggle for her? because a lady should be demure and un-opinionated and those are things andromeda black won’t ever be.

james potter...*

full name: james charlus potter

blood status: pure-blood

wand: 11" with a dragon heart string core, mahogany, pliable

house & year : gryffindor ;; 7th year

patronus: stag ;; the witch or wizard who casts this patronus is known to be noble and brave. strong temperament, came come across as intimidating in more than several instances. quick to defend those he cares about, a protector of formidable sorts.

boggart: the deaths of the people he cares about in particular it would be his parents, sirius, remus, peter and while he’ll never admit it... lily.

extra curriculars: head boy and quidditch captain for the gryffindor team he is a chaser. part of the dueling club and transfigurations club. turned down slughorns invitation for the slug club bc he’s not a git.

future aspirations: in a perfect world he’d be a quidditch player, but they are at war so auror it is. has joined the member of the phoenix.

adored from the moment he was conceived, his parents are of the older generation and they struggled to have children so james is very much a miracle baby. that’s why he’s so spoiled, literally anything he could ever want he’s had. so he’s been the golden boy since birth practically... so why would hogwarts be different? he’s the epitome of ‘ cool ‘ along with his best friends the marauders, sirius, remus and peter. he is an unregistered animagus and can turn into a stag ( the same as his patronus ) a hot head, he will literally throw a punch and then remember he owns a wand it’s a problem. cares little to nothing about purity and will fight anyone who deems it important. arrogant, but very noble and he can inspire loyalty in more ways than one. but also he’s an idiot show off, as much as he’s a ‘ genius ‘ when it comes to classes he don’t know women... aka he doesn’t understand evans... he tryin tho lmao.

alecto carrow...*

full name: alecto carrow

blood status: pure-blood

wand: 11 inch, blacktorn wand with a dragon heart string core, unyielding

house & year : ravenclaw ;; 7th year

patronus: she can’t produce one, a patronus is light magic aka not stuff she believes in.

boggart: the death of her twin brother.

extra curriculars: dueling & slug club

future aspirations: hit witch and hopes to find her spot within voldemort’s rank as a death eater.

cruel, vindictive but smart. incredibly smart, she has a thirst for knowledge hint as to why she was sorted into ravenclaw house. ( bc not all death eaters were slytherins damn it ) independent and fierce, you’ve heard of an ‘ ice queen ‘ that’s alecto, always in control... emotions are for the weak minded. except where her brother is concerned, her twin brother is an extension of herself so as a true narcissist she has to love him because he is a part of her. she doesn’t have the best reputation around the castle and would probably kill your pet and hang it up in the great hall for everyone to see... simply because you spoke to her and she considers you unworthy. no conscience or apathy just pride and a lot of zeal for the pure blood supremacy cause. she is attracted to the dark arts, to pain and misery and she isn’t shy about letting anyone know that.

remus lupin..*

full name: remus john lupin

blood status: half - blood, werewolf.

wand: 10¼ inch cypress, with a unicorn hair core, pliable

house & year : gryffindor ;; 7th year

patronus: wolf ;; The wolf is a bit of a darker and mysterious soul, with the strength of a fighter. A person with this patronus has had a lot happen in their life, and do to that they wear a mask over their emotions. They do, however, have a very big heart that is full of both passion and fire. They have a lot of emotion within them that they are willing to give, but only once they completely trust you.

boggart: the full moon, for v. obvious reasons.

extra curriculars: 7th year prefect, dueling & charms club

future aspirations: outside of joining the order, he doesn’t let himself dream of a job because his kind aren’t hired anywhere... bc you know discrimination.

he was attacked by fenrir greyback to take some kind of revenge, after his father insulted him. aka he suffers from lycanthrophy. this would have made it impossible for him to come to hogwarts but dumbledore disagreed. so precautions are set in place, the whomping willow, the shrieking shack will get it’s reputation because of remus. ( it’s a secret, so there aren’t many people who know. in fact it’s only james, sirius, peter and lily. ) this is where he was taken to transform once month, and turning is painful especially because he is separated from humans to bite so he’d bite and scratch at himself because of frustration. anyway that didn’t exactly matter much because he has friends, real friends. he didn’t have them until he came to hogwarts and he was terrified that they’d find out the truth... but you know once they did they all decided to become an animagus... and thus begin the adventures of the marauders. remus is a good student, he’s talented and well behaved sort of.... at least he behaves better than james and sirius. dumbledore made him a prefect in his 5th year and they think it’s so he’d exercise some control over his friends. spoiler: he doesn’t.

#& ; talk tag.#& ; marauders.#& ; character master list.#I AM EXCITED.

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shannaraisles · 7 years

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Set In Darkness

Chapter: 10 Author name: ShannaraIsles Rating: M (for language) Warnings: Bereavement, canon-typical injury and violence Summary: She’s a Modern Girl in Thedas, but it isn’t what she wanted. There’s a scary dose of reality as soon as she arrives. It isn’t her story. People get hurt here; people die here, and there’s no option to reload if you make a bad decision. So what’s stopping her from plunging head first into the Void at the drop of a hat?

Divine Intervention

"... from sky-tearing peaks of the sacred mountain; to secret steep'd root of the ancient oak trees ..."

Rory stood in the nave of the Chantry, satchel hugged to her chest, trying not to fidget. What was she doing here?

She'd managed to avoid the Chantry for a month and a half, though she knew services were held every day. No one had mentioned it yet, but she knew someone was bound to notice sooner or later that the healer wasn't attending the Chantry or singing the Chant of Light. She couldn't even use the excuse of work; Fabian went regularly, and he was more than capable of holding clinic for an hour once a week. She just couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't bring herself to pretend that she believed in the Maker. She'd turned her back on the god her parents believed in when they'd turned their backs on her, preferring to believe in what she could see and touch. If there was some all-powerful deity looking down on her, she hoped he, she, or it was just as offended by her as she was by them. She refused to play along and pretend that she shared a faith she barely comprehended, much less believed in. That wasn't why she was here, though.

No, she was standing here in the incense-choked nave, watching the candle flames dance and listening to the Chant, because a very intimidating Leliana had come to the clinic with a request for a healer to wait on the Divine herself. Fabian had been rendered catatonic just at the thought of meeting the Divine, so Rory had stepped up to do what needed doing. She was more than a little unnerved by Leliana, though. The woman was so cold, stating what was required without giving away any details. All the while Rory was packing her satchel to cover any eventuality, Sister Nightingale watched her with pale eyes that saw too much for comfort. She never would have believed it, but Rory felt afraid of the bard - afraid that soon she would be exposed as a nobody with no history beyond the six weeks she had spent here in Haven. What would they do when Leliana discovered that the healer they trusted was no one? What would Cullen do?

She could hear the murmur of voices in what would soon be the war room; some female, one male. What was wrong with the Divine that she needed a healer, anyway? Shouldn't she have someone on staff to deal with any medical concerns she might have? Oh, Rory was aware of what a huge honor it was to be asked to wait on the Divine; she just couldn't quite see why it was necessary. She was horribly afraid that this was all some pretext to get her here so she could be interrogated.

The door opened, and she looked up to see Chancellor Roderick and Josephine Montilyet walk out together, closely followed by Cassandra. The Seeker caught her eye, gesturing for her to enter the room where the Divine waited.

"The healer you requested, Most Holy."

The room was different to what Rory remembered from the game, though some elements remained the same. The candle-covered sideboard, for example, and the bookcases in the corner. But the map table that would dominate the space was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a bed to the left, made up with vibrant linens; a desk in the nearest left corner that looked suspiciously like the desk Josephine would soon be using in another room; a hearth she had never even suspected was present in the right-hand wall, set about with padded chairs.

And in one of those chairs sat Divine Justinia herself, gray-haired and blue-eyed, her large and impressive hat set upright on a table nearby. Her lined face turned toward Rory with a kind smile.

"Come closer, child," she said, and Rory felt her feet shuffle her forward, hearing the door close at her back with a finality that was terrifying. "What is your name?"

"Uh, Rory, your, uh ... Most Holy."

Justinia's smile gentled in the face of her obvious uncertainty. "You frightened the girl, Leliana."

Rory felt herself jump visibly at the reply that came from behind her.

"It was not my intention, Most Holy," the redheaded Left Hand said in answer, moving away from the door to stand beside the table.

"So little is as we intend," Justinia replied philosophically. She turned her eyes back to Rory. "There is no need to fear, child; you are not to be punished for some imagined misdeed. Do you know why you are here?"

A car mowed me down and somehow this is my afterlife. "Only that you wished to see a healer, Most Holy," Rory offered, still a little wary despite the reassurance.

"Not any healer," the Divine told her pleasantly. "Cassandra has told me much of you. A healer who protects the dignity and secrets of those she serves - a rare being. I have need of your discretion, Rory. While you are here, I will not be disturbed, and there are matters I must discuss with my Hands. May I rely upon you to keep what you may hear close to your chest?"

"Of course," Rory assured her without a second thought, though her brow creased in confusion. "I was under the impression that you needed a healer, not a smokescreen. Surely you can just ... order privacy for an hour?"

She heard Leliana laugh softly; saw the smile on Cassandra's face as the Seeker moved to the table herself. Did I say something funny? Even Justinia's smile was amused.

"You think I am wasting time better spent on others in need?" the Divine asked, lifting her hand to invite her closer. "Your time will not be wasted." She raised the hem of her robe to her knees, revealing some of the worst bandaging Rory had ever seen. And she'd seen the attempts made by medical students. "I fear the sore is not healing," Justinia told her. "I understand you have more than a little skill in such things."

Choosing not to ask why the Divine couldn't get a mage to heal her, Rory dropped down onto her knees, pulling an apron from her satchel. She maneuvered it over her head, covering her clothes with the clean linen, reaching to lift the bandaged leg and inspect the damage. "It will be painful to remove this, Most Holy," she warned, horrified by the state of the dressing. It was stiff and crusty, and distinctly smelly.

Justinia's smile was resigned. "Life is pain, child," she said, accepting of the discomfort. "Do what you must."

Rory nodded, gently setting the woman's foot down as she looked about for something she knew had to be somewhere. There. On a table behind her were set a jug and two basins - not strictly intended for her purposes, but needs must. She was going to have to soak that bandages thoroughly to have even a chance of getting it off without causing more damage.

As she moved to collect them, returning to her knees before the Divine, the three women began to speak.

"Well, Leliana?" Justinia asked as Rory set to work soaking the neglected bandage. "What have you discovered?"

"The Grand Enchanter will not be joining us," Leliana told her solemnly. "Neither will the Lord Seeker. It appears they both suspect a trap, and have sent representatives in their stead. For the mages, Senior Enchanter Maxwell Trevelyan, of the Ostwick Circle; for the templars, Knight-Commander Greagoir, of Kinloch Hold."

Engrossed in her work, Rory's brows rose at the mention of that name. She'd wondered what had happened to Greagoir and Irving; now it seemed she had an answer to one half of that question. It was a shame, in a way ... she couldn't say she liked Greagoir, but she'd respected him. To know he was going to die at the Conclave, trying to make peace, was just a little sad.

"I do not understand this paranoia in Lord Seeker Lucius," Cassandra was saying. "He has always been a fair man. Why would he choose to distrust the word of the Divine?"

"Perhaps he knows something we do not," Leliana suggested darkly.

"Or perhaps he shares the opinion of his predecessor." Justinia sighed, flinching a little as Rory began to peel the sodden bandage from her leg. "Lord Seeker Lambert was adamant that I tricked him into missing his opportunity to cow the mages at their vote."

"Whatever the reason, his absence will not help proceedings," Cassandra predicted, her own tone dark. "Even if an accord is reached, he may not honor it."

"The same could be said of the rebel mages," Leliana mused in agreement. "I find it curious that those mages who consider themselves loyal have not sent a representative."

Like Vicious Vivienne would ever take part in something that doesn't offer her a clear path to power and influence, Rory thought. She's probably waiting to see who comes out on top so she can ingratiate herself with them. Now there was a character she could happily live without meeting. With gentle hands, she delicately pulled the last layer of flimsy wrapped from Justinia's leg, and found herself looking at a venous ulcer that probably hadn't been cleaned in weeks. This was definitely going to hurt.

"Madame de Fer does not like to be a single voice among many," Justinia cautioned. "She will shed no tears if the Conclave fails." She glanced down at Rory, interest sparking in her gaze at the little bottle the healer had produced. "What is that, child?"

Rory lifted her head, surprised to be addressed. "Distilled poppy and willow-bark," she answered, not expecting them to know what that meant. "A few drops on the wound should numb the worst of the pain while I'm cleaning it."

"Should?" Leliana queried, one brow raised in challenge.

"Everyone is different, Sister Nightingale," Rory defended herself. "What works on one person may not necessarily work for someone else. There's no way to know until you try it."

"And you admit freely that your potion may not work?" the redhead asked, her expression unnervingly inscrutable.

"Am I supposed to lie to the Divine?" Rory countered as boldly as she dared.

"Let her do her work, Leliana," Cassandra interjected. "She does more good than harm. I have seen it."

Under Leliana's probing gaze, Rory carefully administered three drops onto the worst affected areas of the ulcer, letting the distillation soak in as she then doused her hands thoroughly from a bottle of moonshine she'd been given a few days earlier. It wasn't quite alcohol gel or hand sanitizer, and it stung like blue blazes, but it did the job she needed it to do. Endeavoring to ignore her audience, she turned her attention to cleaning the wound.

"Without Fiona and Lucius present, I fear the Conclave is likely to fail no matter what we do," Justinia went on, as though she hadn't interrupted the conversation herself. "The Inquisition of old is becoming increasingly our only option to restore order. Should these talks fail, it falls to you, both of you, to rebuild the Inquisition and find those who will stand against the chaos. I will support you however I can, but the Chantry will not support an independent body without a fight."

"But who will be Inquisitor?" Cassandra asked a little hopelessly. "The Warden is nowhere to be found, and if Varric knows the Champion's location, he is refusing to divulge it."

"Renew efforts to find the Warden," Justinia told her. "And perhaps your dwarf will tell me what he will not tell you. I will speak with him tomorrow, after the Conclave adjourns for the day."

No one seemed to notice the way Rory's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. The game heavily implied that Varric never had the chance to speak to the Divine, so that meant ... Fucking hell. The explosion, the Breach, the demons ... it all starts tomorrow. Three days of non-stop demon attacks, starting tomorrow. It was too soon. She wasn't ready. But then ... who was ever ready for apocalyptic violence? Tomorrow, Haven would lose faces she'd come to know and care about - grumpy Master Taigen, gentle Mother Lisl, Divine Justinia herself. Corypheus could already be here, concealed in the Temple, biding his time. And when his time arrived, their time would be up.

Justinia hissed in pain suddenly as a stubborn piece of necrotic skin sloughed away, revealing healthy pink tissue beneath.

"I'm sorry," Rory apologized, wincing in sympathy. "I'm almost done."

"You warned me there would be pain," Justinia reminded her warmly. "You have gentle hands, child. Do not apologize for doing what the Maker clearly intended you to do." She watched a moment longer before returning her gaze to her Hands. "I will not require you at the Temple. Remain here; begin to build the foundation of the Inquisition with Lady Montilyet and Commander Rutherford. The Knights-Divine are perfectly capable of protecting me among the devout."

So capable, they won't even hear you shouting for help. Rory grimaced, sluicing her hands with moonshine once again. From her satchel, she pulled a hunk of moldy bread, bracing herself inwardly as she tore off a sizeable chunk and put it in her mouth, chewing to soften it and break down the starches. Unsurprisingly, it tasted absolutely revolting, but there was no alternative. This was the closest she could get to penicillin in this world. Even if this woman was going to die tomorrow, Rory was still going to give her the best care she could.

Aware of the disgust on the faces around her as she chewed, she removed a jar of honey, a wide pad, and two rolls of linen bandages from her satchel. A good glob of honey went onto the pad, and she removed the bolus of pre-digested bread and mold from her mouth to spread it on top of the honey. This, she laid gently over the clean ulcer, and began to wind the linen about the Divine's leg, to hold the dressing in place.

"How fascinating, to watch a healer without magic at work," Justinia said, sounding delighted in spite of the gooey mess that had just been applied to her leg. "Yet you do not seem to treat yourself as you do others, child. The bite on your neck - can you not heal that?"

Glancing up at her, Rory shrugged, hands busy bandages. "Bruises heal on their own, Most Holy," she replied. "Sadly, predators don't care if everyone can see their calling card."

"Those are the marks of a man's teeth," Justinia observed mildly.

"He was still a predator," Rory told her, glad she was calm in relating even a fraction of the story. "And I was incredibly lucky."

"The Marquis du Revel's man, Most Holy," Leliana supplied. Rory wasn't sure why she was surprised - the redhead probably knew the flavor of her last fart.

"Ah, yes." Justinia seemed to know what had happened. "A bad business, but perhaps it is better that he lost his life. Such wolves do not easily change their pelts, no matter the punishment given."

At a loss as to what to say, Rory ducked her head, making a mental note to find a scarf. What is so bloody fascinating about a bruised neck, anyway? Everyone wants to talk about it! Tying off the bandage, she wiped her hands on a cloth, gathering the used bandages into it to be washed and used again. A gentle hand touched her chin, guiding her face until she looked into the kind eyes of the Divine.

"A life given to service for the good of others is a life well-lived," the old woman said softly. "I see your soul, child. You have known cruelty and loss. They haunt you, always. Yet you look on the world with hope, sharing the goodness in your heart despite that pain. The reward is rare, but still you give. I pray every day to meet a soul like yours."

Humbled by this high praise of her character, Rory stared, almost shocked to find that her eyes betrayed so much. "I'm no one special, Most Holy," she murmured awkwardly.

"In your own eyes, perhaps not," Justinia told her gently. "But in the eyes of those who see you, you shine. Do not be afraid, Rory. You are not alone."

Tears sprang into Rory's eyes. How did she know? How could she possibly know how scared I am, how lonely it is without Ria? Every day, she missed her friend - missed her smile, her voice, her bravery. Some days, she forgot her loss, already turning to share some moment only to be reminded there was no one to share it with. She'd thought she had it well hidden, yet this devout woman saw it in an instant. Saw and understood, without the need for words.

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, whispering almost soundless thanks. Released from the Divine's grasp, she hurried to tidy up, escaping as soon as she could. Out of the Chantry, through the village, over the training ground, walking as swiftly as she could, blindly picking her direction until her feet slid on the ice of the lake. Away from everyone, she crouched low, setting her head between her knees until the dizziness faded, until the tears subsided. Six weeks, and still it hurt as though Ria had died just yesterday. Would it ever fade, this gnawing ache in her heart; this cold void where her only friend used to be? Would she ever stop hoping to wake up from a dream that had taken everything away from her?

A yell caught her attention, raising her face into the cold sting of the wind to look back toward the shore. Rylen was waving to her, grinning, dangling something from his hand. Are those ... skates? She felt a sharp huff of laughter leave her chest in a rush, a smile replacing her haunted frown. One random comment in passing days ago, and suddenly he had skates. Where the hell did he find ice skates here, anyway, she wondered, turning carefully to make her way back over the ice.

And as she went, she realized that the Divine was right. She would always miss Ria, but there was space in her heart for others. Friends, and perhaps something more than friendly, with the right person.

She wasn't alone.

#set in darkness #multi-chapter fic #cullen rutherford/original female character #cullen rutherford/rory allen #rory allen #divine justinia #cassandra pentaghast #leliana #josephine montilyet #chancellor roderick #fabian #wound care #laying plans

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