Chapter Text
Chant of the Departed
Jordan stood in her room, staring into the fireplace where a log burned lightly, giving off a soft glow that danced upon her face. Her mind whirled and her heart felt slow and heavy. Anders was behind her, gently placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her away from the hearth. He placed her on the bed, then went to his knee to look at her.
“Jordan,” he said in a soft voice. “I know this isn’t… easy. And nothing I say will change what happened, but… I’m here. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
Jordan found she was only able to stare at him. Her mouth was dry and her throat was tight. She couldn’t even remember getting home. She could only remember holding her mother’s cold, limp body in her arms. Remember crying to the point she could no longer produce tears. She had felt weak and distant. She had wanted to fight harder against Aveline when the warrior took Leandra’s body away, but Jordan couldn’t find the strength to resist. She could only let herself be guided as Anders took her out of the sewers and back home.
“Let’s start… slowly,” said Anders as he stood. “I’ll get Bodahn to start a bath for you. Would that help?”
Jordan continued to stare at him, only blinking.
“Of course. Just… wait here.” Anders touched her hand before making his way to the balcony. He looked down into the main area to see Bodahn standing at the desk that still contained the white lilies in their vase. “Bodahn,” Anders said just loud enough to get the dwarf’s attention.
“Oh, yes… yes,” Bodahn said as he turned to look up at Anders. He sniffed and wiped his face. “Sorry, Master Anders, did you need something?”
Anders had told Bodahn what happened once they returned home and as he was leading Jordan up to her room. Bodahn had only gotten the short version, but it was enough.
“Can you prepare a bath for Jordan, please?”
“Of course. Right away.” Bodahn wiped the tears from his face again as he made his way to the baths.
Anders went back to the bedroom, finding Jordan where he had left her. He sighed as he saw her slumped form and expressionless face. He felt uncertain at that moment. Uncertain on how to help her, or how to predict what she might do. He was only around when she lost her sister to the Circle, having found her outside his clinic the following morning, completely drunk and miserable. But at least in that situation, Bethany was still alive, and even if she was in the Circle, Jordan could still see and speak with her.
Leandra’s death was much worse.
Even though Anders knew Jordan had lost her father and brother, their deaths were different, and Jordan wasn’t really able to break down like she was now. From what she had told him about her father’s death, she had to stay strong for her family since she would have become the main provider, being the oldest. And when Carver died, it was during the time they were fleeing Ferelden and the Blight. No time to mourn, no time to even stop and bury his body. Anders even wondered if Jordan had properly mourned her brother, or if she felt she still needed to be strong for her family considering the situation they were in. A situation that didn’t seem to get better over time with them coming to Kirkwall, having to pay their way in, and later having to deal with the expedition and so much more.
Leandra’s death was very different, and more impactful.
“Can you stand?” Anders asked as he took Jordan’s hands. “I’m going to help you, but I need you to stand.”
Jordan stood but didn’t say anything. She only listened and did as he told her. Anders helped Jordan undress, and once she was completely unclothed, he placed a robe over her and led her out of the room and to the baths.
Once there, Anders continued to help. He had her carefully enter the tub and sit as he went about washing her hair and scrubbing her skin. She continued to do everything he asked of her, only really moving when he told her to. And throughout the entire process, her expression never changed and she stayed in her catatonic state.
When Jordan was clean, Anders dried her off and took her back to her room. There, he noticed a fresh pile of clothes on her desk. He tried to remember if the pile of clothes had been there previously or if they had just arrived while they were in the baths. It was hard to say, considering Orana was distraught when she heard the news. As he was telling Bodahn what happened, she had run to the back of the house in tears.
Taking the clothes, Anders next helped Jordan dress, and finished by tying her robe closed and sitting her back on the bed.
“You should eat something,” Anders said as he went to his knee in front of her again.
“No,” she said softly. It was the first thing she had said in a while.
“I know you may not feel hungry, but you still need to eat.” He caressed her arm and brought his other hand to her face and rubbed his thumb gently on her cheek. “Please, love… to keep up your strength.”
Jordan’s eyes were red and were surrounded by a slight puffiness. She stared at him for a moment, before turning away and slowly nodding her head.
“Alright,” Anders said as he stood. “I’ll go get you something to eat. Stay right here. I’ll be back soon.”
Before he went to leave, Chance jumped on the bed and laid beside Jordan. He placed his large head in her lap and whined a little as he licked her arm. Jordan turned her head toward him and placed her hand on his neck, stroking down his fur.
Anders smiled softly, not caring at the moment about the dog being on the bed. If he could help to comfort Jordan, then Chance could sleep and lay on the bed all he wanted.
“I’ll be back,” Anders said again as he kissed Jordan on the forehead. He left the room and headed toward the kitchen, hoping that if Orana wasn’t in her own room crying, then maybe she could help him get some food for Jordan.
As Anders left, Jordan sighed out and wrapped her full arms around Chance’s neck. She buried her face in his fur and breathed in deep. She felt she might start crying again, but her eyes, just like her mouth and throat, were still dry and hurting and she wasn’t sure if she could even produce tears anymore with how dehydrated she felt.
“There you are.”
Jordan looked up to see Gamlen standing in her doorway. “Uncle…” she said, her voice still harsh.
“What is going on?” he asked, coming more into the room. “Did you find her? Where is your mother? I’ve been waiting to hear the news all night.”
Jordan had to bite her lip. She swallowed the hard lump that had been forming in her throat. “I’m… sorry, Uncle, but… she’s gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?” Gamlen came fully in and stood before her. “That dwarven manservant of yours was crying when he let me in. Now I find you here sulking. What…” He had to stop to swallow his own lump. “What happened?”
Sitting up more straight, Jordan took a deep breath as she stared her uncle in the eyes. “Have you heard about the Kirkwall Killer?”
“Yes…” Gamlen said, eying her. “Are you… are you saying Leandra was a victim? That can’t be. They caught the killer! He was a mage, hiding behind his money in Hightown.”
“That wasn’t him,” Jordan said as she shook her head. “We thought it was, but we were wrong.”
“What do you mean ‘we?’”
“I was helping Aveline find the killer. I’ve been involved with the case for a while now. Three years ago, I was helping a man named Ghyslain de Carrac find his wife, who had disappeared. During my search, I ran into a templar named Emeric who was looking for a mage who had also disappeared. Our investigation didn’t really lead anywhere, but that’s when it started. When those women received white lilies and then vanished.”
“White lilies?” Gamlen looked around, and spotted the white lily on Jordan’s desk. “You mean white lilies like that one? Like the ones your mother received?”
“Yes,” Jordan said, hanging her head.
“So you’re telling me this killer sends white lilies to his victims, and you knew about this?”
“I did.”
“You knew and you didn’t think to warn your mother?” Gamlen threw his hands. “Maker’s breath, girl! I thought you had everything under control!”
“I… don’t know what happened, Uncle,” Jordan said, continuing to keep her head low. “It just… it got past me. I didn’t connect the flowers until it was too late. It’s my fault…”
“You’re damn right it’s your fault!” Gamlen yelled. “If you’d have been paying attention better, or been quicker or stronger, you could’ve… she could be…” Gamlen trailed off, his voice choking.
Jordan felt each sting from Gamlen’s words. “I know it’s my fault, and there’s nothing that can change what happened.”
Gamlen went to say more, but stopped when a sob came from his throat. “Why…” he attempted to say. “Why all the killing? Why her? Why Leandra?”
“Do you really want to know?” Jordan asked, looking at her uncle again.
“I bloody asked, didn’t I?”
“The real killer was using the women in some… blood magic ritual to bring back his dead lover. He was stitching body parts together, and Mother, she had a similar… face.”
“W-What?” Gamlen said, his face contorted in both disgust and horror. “What sort of nightmarish magic is that? Oh, Maker... Maybe the templars are right. Lock the mages up! Throw away the key!”
“That’s not what needs to be done, Uncle,” Jordan said, feeling herself becoming heated. “Mages are not to blame for this.”
“But it was a mage that did it. It was magic that caused this!”
“But not all mages would do this! Would you condemn Bethany for the crimes of one madman?”
“Your sister would probably feel the same way! She put herself in that Circle because she knows how dangerous magic really is! It’s done nothing but curse this family, and now Leandra has even fallen victim to the worst of it!”
“Don’t blame magic on this!” Jordan shouted as she stood. “This is all on me!”
“And you better—”
“Gamlen!”
Gamlen had been advancing on Jordan, only to stop and turn to see Anders in the doorway holding a tray of food.
“What do you want, boy?” Gamlen said, glaring at him.
“I suggest you leave,” Anders said harshly. “Now.”
Gamlen went to say more, but stopped and sighed heavily. He looked from both Anders and Jordan, tears beginning to form in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said to Jordan. “It’s just… hard to hear what happened to her. Magic really has been a curse on this family. I wish you’d never told me what that twisted son of a bitch did to her… I wish I hadn’t asked.” Gamlen took in a deep breath. “I just… I just want to know if he’s dead. Did you kill him?”
Jordan nodded.
“Good,” he said, his voice hard. “I hope it hurt.”
“It did.”
“Now…” Gamlen said, wiping his eyes. “Where is Leandra’s… body?”
“Aveline and her guards are taking care of it,” said Anders. “They arrived on the scene just as I was taking Jordan home.”
“Then I’ll head to the barracks and take care of it,” said Gamlen. “I’ll also head to the Chantry and have the funeral prepared. And don’t… don’t worry about Bethany either. I’ll send a letter to make her aware.”
“Are you sure, Uncle?” Jordan asked. “I can still—”
“No, girl,” Gamlen said, stopping her. “You’ve… you’ve done enough, and I know you have other things on your mind. Let me handle this part. Maker knows I’ve arranged enough funerals. Take care, my dear.”
Anders moved aside to let Gamlen leave. He made sure to watch him go before making his way into the room.
“I’m sorry about that,” said Anders as he placed the tray of food down on the desk. “I’ll make sure to let Bodahn know we don’t want any guests at the moment. Now let me—Jordan?”
Jordan was still standing but there was a shift in her posture. Her eyes were wide, blinking fast. Her breath was harsh and the hands at her sides were clenched tight.
“Jordan,” Anders said softly as he slowly made his way to her. “I can see your uncle coming upset you. I didn’t hear your whole conversation, but—”
“He’s right,” Jordan said, her voice low.
“About what?”
“It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.”
“It’s not.” Anders went to touch her shoulder, only for Jordan to slap his hand away.
“Stop it!” she yelled. “It is my fault! I killed her!”
“Jordan… no. You’re mother wouldn’t want you blaming—”
Her scream was loud, primal, and full of rage and sadness.
Jordan went to the mantle and started grabbing everything off and throwing them around, smashing and breaking. She went to her wardrobe and tore it open, ripping out the clothes and throwing them on the floor and fire. She went to the desk and flung everything to the ground, including the tray of food. She screamed again, louder and hoarser, new tears forming in her eyes.
“Jordan!”
She finally heard Anders behind her. He had been shouting her name, but she wouldn’t answer him. Now as she turned to look at him, she saw his soft brown eyes staring into hers. She even saw a hint of blue behind them.
Anders had his hands in front of him as he slowly approached her. He had let her ransack the room. Let her get her anger out. Now he needed to get her to focus.
“Why aren’t you blaming me?” she asked, her voice raw. “Why aren’t you agreeing with me?”
“Because…” Anders said as he continued to slowly approach her. “It’s not your fault.”
Jordan glared at him. She looked around the room for something more to throw and break.
“It’s not your fault,” he continued to say.
“Stop saying that!” Jordan yelled. She grabbed her arms, digging her nails into her skin, drawing blood, and squeezed her eyes closed tight.
“It’s not your fault.”
Anders gently placed his hands on her arm. Jordan pushed him away hard.
“It’s not your fault.”
More tears leaked from Jordan’s eyes. She felt the hot liquid stream down her face, stinging her already sore and raw skin from crying earlier.
“It’s not your fault.”
Anders had his hands back on her, and this time, Jordan didn’t force him off. He encircled his arms around her, and took her into his embrace. She cried hard into his shoulder, and Anders held her close, tenderly rubbing her back and head all the while continuing to say:
“It’s not your fault… It’s not your fault…”
It’s not your fault…
*** ***
The funeral of Leandra Hawke was a few days later. Jordan made sure everyone knew it was “Leandra Hawke” and not “Leandra Amell” as many of the nobles who attended made the mistake of calling her mother the wrong name. Jordan had even corrected Grand Cleric Elthina, not caring how she sounded or who she was talking to.
The funeral was much larger than Jordan had anticipated, but it did give her comfort knowing how much her mother was loved. Many nobles who claimed to have known Leandra back before she left came to give their respects and condolences. Others who barely knew her still came, offering prayers and well wishes. Jordan hadn’t realized how influential her mother had been, in both Lowtown and Hightown. Even those of the working class and some from Darktown made their way to the Chantry that day to say their last goodbyes.
Jordan stood next to her mother’s altar, staring down into her peaceful, sleeping face. She was astonished at how beautiful and alive she looked. Even the stitch around her neck couldn’t be seen, as if her head had never been detached from her body.
As for her body, this was her real body her head was attached to, as confirmed by Aveline. While Anders was leading Jordan away, Donnic and other guards had come to the hidden rooms, having followed Aveline’s trail. They had searched the rooms more, and found a smaller one that contained not only Leandra’s body, but also a pile of body parts, all in different stages of decomposition. Leandra’s body had been thrown on top of the pile. The only thing they couldn’t recover were her eyes, which was why Leandra lay with her lids closed. Yet as Jordan continued to look at her mother, it appeared as if she did have something behind those lids. Something round and sturdy enough to give the lids the look they needed to indicate there were still eyes there, instead of empty sockets. She knew it wasn’t the eyes from before. Jordan made sure those ghastly things had been taken out.
“She looks like she’s sleeping, doesn’t she?” Aveline made her way to Jordan’s side. She was wearing full ceremonial armor, and had volunteered to be one of the guards who would accompany Leandra’s body to the pyre.
“She does,” Jordan said softly. She looked over at Aveline and gave her a small smile.
“And how are you fairing?” Aveline asked.
“I’m… fine. I have a smile on my face, see?” Jordan made her smile bigger. “That should be enough for most people.”
“I’m not most people,” Aveline said, giving her a little glare. “I was there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so… distraught before. Then I heard from Anders what happened when you got home. Can’t believe Gamlen said those things to you.”
“It’s… fine,” Jordan said, brushing it off. “He was…” Jordan’s mouth twitched. “He needed to know the truth. And he’s actually been helpful, for once. This whole funeral is thanks to him.” She looked around the Chantry, seeing all the decorations and people within. All for Leandra.
She then spotted Gamlen on the other side of the room. He was talking with priests and looked to actually be dressed decently for once. She wasn’t even sure if he owned a nice tunic, yet the one he was wearing was of good quality. The style was old and it was a little tight on him, but it worked for the funeral, and Jordan was glad to see him take some responsibility.
“I want to say… I’m sorry,” Aveline said, getting Jordan’s attention back. “But I’m not sure if that’ll be enough.”
“You don’t have to be sorry for anything,” said Jordan. “You did your job. We thought we had him. Turns out I’m not as perspective as I thought I was.”
“Don’t start blaming yourself again,” said Anders as he made his way over to where Jordan and Aveline were standing. “I would rather not see you like that again.”
“I’m doing better,” Jordan said, both reassuring him and herself. “Thank you, Anders. I appreciate you being there for me.”
“Of course.” Anders took her hand as he positioned himself beside her.
The three of them stood there for a moment in silence.
“Do you remember when Leandra used to make us dinner on nights we were out, running routes for Athenril?” Aveline said, breaking the silence.
“I do,” said Jordan.
“I remember because it always made me feel bad, coming in and seeing she had laid out plates for us. And she was at the table, having fallen asleep waiting for us. Her own plate untouched.”
“She wanted to make sure we got home safe and were fed. That’s just how she was. And that didn’t change when you moved out.”
“I would hope not. I remember the food being cold, but still delicious. She was good at taking what little we had back then and making it something grand. It made me wonder if… if my own mother would have been like her. Did I ever… tell you about my parents?”
“No, I don’t think you ever mentioned them,” said Jordan.
“I don’t remember my mother very well. Just flashes of… impossibly long hair. She died when I was a baby. My father raised me alone. Taught me how to use a sword and shield. Gave me my name. He wanted for me a life he could never have. He spent everything to get me into Cailan's service. Do you know what I remember? When he read to me—stupid things, dragons and heroes—he wouldn't turn a page until I reached over and took his hand. That big man made every step of the story my choice. I loved that. He died of the wasting in a Denerim ward... those last weeks, I read to him. I had to take his hand to turn the pages. And I couldn't tell if he was too weak, or if it was the old game. He smiled at that, at his big girl.” Aveline chuckled lightly. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“Because it helps,” said Jordan. “Talking about them makes them feel still… alive, in a way.”
“It does, and I say tonight, we drink to them. To Leandra Hawke and Benoit du Lac. Don't let anyone tell you when to move on. Take their hand and say ‘my choice.’ That's all I have at the moment. I'll miss her too.”
“Thanks, Aveline. I’m glad I have you as a friend.”
“Anytime, Jordan.” Aveline placed her arm around Jordan’s shoulder, and the two embraced in a side hug.
“Aveline,” Anders said, once the two were done with their moment. “Do you know who did this?” He gestured to Leandra’s neck. “It’s remarkable work. Certainly not the work of a priest. I think I even feel the hints of some magic, but I doubt they would let one of the mages in the Gallows work on a body.”
“It was a Mortalitasi who prepared Leandra,” said Aveline. “Due to the nature of Leandra’s body—and the rest of the body parts we found—none of the priests felt comfortable preparing the bodies for the pyre. It was decided to bring in an expert to handle the matter. A request was sent to Nevarra, and it turned out, one of their members was close by in Cumberland for a lecture. He came as soon as he could and took care of everything.”
“Really? A Mortalitasi? The templars were willing to let a death mage come to Kirkwall and handle the dead?”
“It was a request from Elthina herself. Like I said, the bodies were unique, and the priests didn’t feel comfortable. If you would like to ask him about it yourself, he’s right over there.”
Both Jordan and Anders looked over to see a man standing at the edge of the room, talking to Sebastian. The man looked foreign, in maybe about his late thirties, and was dressed in what Jordan could only think were the rodes of Nevarra death mages—or the Mortalitasi, as they called themselves. She would be lying if she said she was comfortable with the thought of another necromancer touching her mother’s body, but she also couldn’t deny the work he had done. She had to remind herself that just with magic in general, necromancy wasn’t necessarily evil. It all had to do with the person wielding it. After all, the entire country of Nevarra was known for its death mages. And the grand Necropolis where they housed their dead, instead of burning them like they did in most of Thedas.
Seeing them looking over in his direction, the man tipped his head to them and started walking over.
“Good day, Guard-Captain,” he said, bowing to Aveline. His voice was cultured—which surprised Jordan a little—and a slight Nevarran accent could be heard. “I hope all is faring well with the funeral.”
“Everything is, so far,” said Aveline. “And may I introduce you to Jordan Hawke, daughter of Leandra. Jordan, this is Professor Volkarin, the Mortalitasi who we called for.”
“My condolences, my dear,” Professor Volkarin said as he took Jordan’s hand. “Death is never easy, whether it be from natural passing or one as… devastating as was bestowed upon your mother.” He let go of her hand and placed both of his behind his back in a proper gesture. “But let me assure you, I have cleansed her body of all negative energies. She will rest in peace.”
“What about the rest of the body parts?” Anders asked. “What is going to happen with them?”
“I also had Professor Volkarin cleanse them as well,” said Aveline. “And… categorize them. Which I found to be most… gruesome.”
“Don’t you deal with dead bodies all the time?” Jordan said.
“Not like those, no.” Aveline’s face wrinkled from an unpleasant memory. “We found so many parts, all in different stages of decay. It was so hard trying to determine what parts belong together and how best to take care of them. Thanks to the professor, that has been handled, and quite impressive, in fact. He was able to identify what parts went with what and who they may have belonged to. A pointer finger belonging to a noblewoman, while a big toe belonged to a working girl from Lowtown. It made my mind whirl, but in the end, we identified forty-three different women who had been killed. That number includes both your mother and Alessa.”
“Forthy-three, yes,” said the professor. “And the body your mother’s head was attached to was most curiously constructed. It had a total of twenty-five different women, all held together by necromancy and fueled by blood magic. The fact your mother was able to stay alive for so long after the mage was killed still astounds me. Just goes to show how much she loved you and wanted to say goodbye.”
“Yes, well…” Jordan said, looking away from the professor. “I’m glad you were able to restore her somewhat.”
“I do apologize for not being able to restore her eyes, but eyes are soft tissue, and disintegrate rather quickly. At least she’s being buried—or brought to your pyre with something more suitable, instead of the eyes of another.”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Of course, my dear. And now, if you would excuse me, I must be off. I have a ways travel in order to get home. Good day to you, Serah Hawke, Guard-Captain.” He bowed to them once more—a bow of deep respect and admiration—before making his way out of the Chantry.
As the day went on, Jordan continued to stay by her mother’s side, greeting those who came to give them respects and well wishes. Her friends all showed to give their condolences. Merrill and Isabela came together, with Merrill offering Jordan two gifts to lay alongside her mother, and be burned with her if she wished. The gifts were an oak staff and a cedar branch, as was custom of the Dalish to bury with their dead in order to help them in the afterlife. Jordan thanked Merrill for the gifts and placed them with her mother.
Isabela, though not very attune with her own Rivaini customs for funerals, did advise Jordan to take something of her mother’s that she could wear as a keepsake. Jordan did still have her mother’s necklace, which she was currently wearing, along with Anders’ Grey Warden pendant. She absently touched it as Isabela told her of the custom, but she wasn’t sure if the necklace would be what she chose to wear to honor her mother.
Varric and Fenris came next, both unsure on what to say. Jordan only told them they didn’t really need to say much, just to be there, which she found good enough to know her friends were there and cared.
Fenris, when looking upon Leandra’s peaceful face, looked as if he wanted to say more to Jordan, but stopped. He only sighed, said he was sorry to Jordan, and moved on. It made Jordan pause, as she had hoped he would say more—though she wasn’t sure what she was wanting to hear from him. But she figured it may have to do with him really not knowing what to say. It also could have been because Anders was right beside her.
Sebastian, dressed in his priest robes as he was one of the priests tending to Leandra’s funeral—many of the others taking care of the rest of the women who were murdered after they had been cleansed—had come up to Jordan and offered a prayer to be done over Jordan and Leandra. Jordan had declined the prayer for herself, but did allow for him to say one over her mother. Even if Jordan found herself not religious, she knew her mother was.
“You’re allowed to grieve, Hawke,” he said, once he was done praying over Leandra. “It’s never easy when you lose someone you love.”
“I think I’ve grieved enough for now,” said Jordan. “Thank you, Sebastian, but I think that’s all we need at the moment.”
“Are you sure?” Sebastian said as he eyed her. “If you need guidance in these troubled times, just look to the Maker—”
“She said she was fine,” said Anders, a little heated. “We’re good for now, thank you.”
Sebastian sighed deeply. He then bowed to them both and made his way to the other side of the Chantry.
Jordan sighed as well, relieved that she had Anders at her side, speaking up for her when she felt she couldn’t. Any other time, she could have handled Sebastian’s relentless talk about the Maker and giving oneself to Him, but she didn’t feel as if she had the strength right now. She didn’t really have the strength to be here in the first place, but thanks to Anders, she was finding it a little easier.
There was only one other person she wished was by her side.
At that moment, as if the thought conjured her, Jordan looked up to see Bethany enter the Chantry. She was accompanied by two templars—Cullen and Keran.
“Bethany?” Jordan said as she left her post and made her way to her sister.
“Jordan!” Bethany ran to her sister, and once they reached each other in the middle, embraced each other in a tight hug.
“Oh, thank the Maker… you made it,” Jordan said as she squeezed her sister even tighter. “I was afraid the templars weren’t going to let you come.”
“You may think us cruel,” said Cullen as he came up to the two. “But we can show some kindness every now and then.”
“Right.” Jordan let go of her sister. “How have you been?” she asked her.
“Me?” said Bethany. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You were there when… when mother was taken and…” Bethany trailed off, her eyes becoming watery.
“I know.” Jordan took her sister’s hand. “I’m… okay. I’m just… trying to keep from feeling as if—”
“Don’t.” Bethany placed her hand over Jordan’s mouth. “Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Mother wouldn’t want it, and neither would Father.”
Jordan had to bite her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “Of course…” she said in a low voice.
Bethany gave her sister a warm smile before hugging her again. She then turned to Cullen. “May I go see her?”
“Of course,” Cullen said. “Keran, go with her.”
“Right,” said Keran. He gestured for Bethany to go ahead before nodding to Jordan and following Bethany once she made her way.
“I am truly sorry,” Cullen said, bringing Jordan’s attention back to him.
“Are you?” Jordan asked, not feeling in the mood to be arguing with him about anything.
“I’m not trying to use this opportunity to argue with you about the Circle or magic. Really. I just want you to know that I really am sorry for your loss. It’s the reason why I brought Bethany here in the first place… against Meredith’s orders.”
Jordan felt herself fume a little at the thought of Meredith keeping her sister from coming to her own mother’s funeral. “Why does Meredith care if Bethany came or not? It’s a funeral, for the Maker’s sake.”
“We don’t allow mages to leave the Circle for any reason, including funerals.” Cullen positioned himself beside Jordan and focused his eyes on Bethany and Keran. “Bethany is no exception.”
“Yet you still brought her here.” Jordan also looked at her sister. She saw as Bethany looked down at their mother, then started to collapse as tears ran down her face and sobs could be heard. Jordan wanted to run to her sister, but kept herself where she was. Keran was instantly at Bethany’s side, rubbing her back and whispering in her ear.
“I made her an exception,” said Cullen. “For her. For you. For the horrible situation your family was put in. On behalf of the templars of Kirkwall,” Cullen said as he faced Jordan. “Please accept our sincerest condolences and apologies for not capturing that deranged blood mage sooner.”
Jordan stared Cullen in the eye, seeing he was genuinely sincere and regretful, yet she wasn’t sure if she could take his apology to heart. After all, it wasn’t the templars who were after the Kirkwall Killer and let him take her mother. That was still all on her.
A thought that she knew would haunt her the rest of her life, no matter how many times she was told it wasn’t her fault. By either others or herself.
At least she could learn to live with it.
“It’s not like you guys knew about the other mage,” Jordan said, looking away from him. “DuPuis confessed, so why would you think to go looking?”
“Confessed?” Cullen said, seeming confused. “DuPuis didn’t confess.”
“What do you mean?” Jordan asked, being confused herself. “Meredith sent word to Aveline that he confessed to the murders.”
“No, he didn’t confess to the murders, at least. He was actually a hard one to get to talk until we made him tranquil, then he told us everything.”
“You made him… tranquil?” Jordan wasn’t sure what she was more horrified about.
“Yes,” Cullen said slowly. “He was originally scheduled to be executed for being a blood mage, but Meredith wanted answers from him first. Since he wouldn’t talk, she made him tranquil instead.”
“Of course,” Jordan said, rolling her eyes. “Typical of the knight-commander. Let me guess, she has him now as her personal servant?”
“No. He’s just a regular tranquil now, making runes and potions.”
Jordan let out a deep sigh. “If he didn’t kill all those women, then what did he say? And why would Meredith lie about it?”
“I don’t know why she would lie, but he told us about the mage named Quentin—the one you killed. About how he was his apprentice and that he was looking for him to learn more about blood magic and necromancy.”
“Wait, are you saying Meredith knew?” Jordan could feel the heat rising in her again. “She knew DuPuis wasn’t the killer and that he was still out there? Again—why did she lie?”
“I don’t know,” Cullen said again, standing his ground. “I can’t say for sure what the knight-commander was thinking. I didn’t even know she had sent a message to the guard-captain. Maybe she wanted to find Quentin herself—”
“She could have prevented this!” Jordan said, her voice growing louder. “My mother could still be alive!”
“Jordan, is everything all right?” Anders was right at her side.
Cullen looked from Jordan to Anders. “We’re fine here,” he said to Anders. “For the sake of the event and to keep the peace, I will let Bethany and Keran stay, while I wait outside.”
“You’re not going to question her?” Jordan said, her voice hard.
Cullen fully looked into Jordan’s eyes. “It’s not my place to question the knight-commander.”
“So you really don’t have a backbone, then.”
“I can’t say for sure if knowing the truth would have saved your mother,” Cullen said slowly. “I can only give you my deepest regrets and…” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Pray to the Maker that all will be forgiven in time.”
“Jordan,” Anders said softly in her ear as he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Come on. The grand cleric is about to begin.”
Jordan had to swallow her own lump. “Fine,” she said to Cullen. “You wait outside. You’re not welcome here.” She then turned and made her way to the base of the altar Grand Cleric Elthina was standing on. Anders gave Cullen a heated glare before following after her.
As the funeral started, priests walked amongst the crowd, handing out candles. Sebastian held a larger candle that was already lit. He went around to all the mourners, having them light their own candles from his.
Grand Cleric Elthina stood atop the altar, looking down amongst the crowd. “My children,” she said. “Today, we gather to mourn the loss of one of our sisters. Leandra Hawke was a mother, a friend, a believer. We honor her today with our love and blessings. And help to guide her to the Maker’s side. So lift your candles and join me in citing the Chant of the Departed.”
The gathered crowd at the foot of the alter all lifted their candles toward the Grand Cleric, and together, spoke the Chant.
“The Light shall lead her safely. Through the paths of this world, and into the next.”
Jordan stood next to Bethany, whose candle was lit, and took her own to light it from her sister’s.
“For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water. As the moth sees light and goes toward the flame, she should see fire and go towards Light.”
Jordan stared into her own flame, seeing the dancing light before her eyes as it flickered and waved.
“The Veil holds no uncertainty for her and she will know no fear of death. For the Maker shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword.”
As she continued to gaze at the fire, and hear the meditative hum of the crowd, Jordan’s mind whirled with all she had learned. All she had thought she knew. And all that could have been.
*** ***
When Grand Cleric Elthina was done with her sermon, Leandra’s body was carried to the pyre by guards dressed in full ceremonial armor. There were four, one for each corner, with Aveline and Donnic at the front.
The funeral pyres were located on the city outskirts, on a cliff overlooking the Wounded Coast. At the pyres were more priests, waiting for Leandra as the guards slowly brought her up the cliff.
Jordan walked behind, Bethany beside her. Somewhere behind them was Anders and Keran, keeping their distance but still staying close.
“You should take this,” Jordan said, handing Bethany their mother’s necklace. “I think it’ll look better on you, anyway.”
Bethany took the necklace and examined it. It was a small gold heart, made by her father’s hand. Leandra and Malcolm’s initials were engraved on one side, while a date was engraved on the other. Their wedding day.
“You know they won’t let me keep this,” Bethany said softly. “As much as I would love to have a keepsake of hers, I think it’ll be safer in your hands.” She gave the necklace back to Jordan, giving her sister a small smile.
Jordan took the necklace and sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” She placed the necklace in her pocket and stared ahead at Leandra’s cortege. “So I assume you’ll have to go back once this is done? Can’t come over and have tea or anything?”
“When did you start drinking tea?” Bethany asked, eying her sister.
“Since just now.” Jordan smiled over at her sister. “If it means I get to spend a little more time with you, then why not? Besides, you haven’t seen the house yet. It looks a lot better since the last time you were in it. No more slavers or cobwebs.”
Bethany giggled a little. “Maybe no slavers, but did I hear correctly that you do have a slave living with you now?”
“Former slave,” Jordan said, correcting her. “Orana may be working for me, but she does get paid and I certainly treat her better than her last masters did. I hope, anyway.”
“I know you do.” Bethany sighed as she looked ahead herself. “As much as I would love to see the house, have tea with you and chat about everything, you know I can’t. I’ll need to be heading back as soon as the funeral is done. But it is good seeing you, Jordan.” Bethany took her sister’s hand. “Even with the circumstances, I always enjoy seeing you. I wish you’d come to visit more often.”
“I… I can… try,” Jordan said, not looking her sister in the eyes. Even though she did visit her sister on occasion, she still didn’t like seeing Bethany locked in the Gallows. It always hurt to see her there. Jordan could also feel the tinges of a headache brewing. They had been there all day, but only after her talk with Cullen, had the headache started to become worse. She did not want her sister to notice, although she was sure Bethany was aware.
“Okay,” Bethany said, giving Jordan’s hand a squeeze. “Just… take care of yourself better, all right?”
“I will,” Jordan said, giving Bethany a forced smile. “Besides, I can’t really afford not to, right? I’m still head of the household. What’s left of it. Gamlen still needs to be taken care of. Maker only knows what’ll happen to him if left unsupervised."
“I could say the same about you.”
Jordan gave her sister a playful glare.
They spoke for a little longer as they continued to walk, learning more about each other’s lives and having as much of a conversation as they could. Jordan was glad she could talk with Bethany again. It was nice having her sister back, even if their time together was short.
Once they reached the pyres, the guards placed Leandra’s body down, and the priests lit the fires. Together, Jordan and Bethany stood side-by side, holding hands, eyes shiny and watching as their mother’s body was consumed by flame.
*** ***
When Jordan and Anders arrived home after the funeral, Bodahn greeted them solemnly. “Welcome home, messeres. I hope all went well today?”
“It did, Bodahn, thank you,” said Jordan.
“I’m glad to hear it. I know it’s going to be a little… difficult to adjust, but we’re always here to support you.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. Very much.”
“There is one thing, though,” Bodahn said slowly. “I wasn’t sure what I should do, but… there is a guest who’s been waiting for you to return.”
“Send them away, Bodahn,” said Anders. “I don’t think we need a guest right now.”
“Wait,” said Jordan. “Why should we send them away if they’ve been waiting?”
“Because I know what type of guests you receive and I don’t think you need that right now.”
“I think I should at least hear what they have to say.” Jordan turned her focus to Bodahn, ignoring Anders’s protest. “Who are they?”
“She’s an elf, messere,” said Bodahn. “Said you helped her son about three years ago. Her name is Arianni.”
“Arianni? Did she say what she wanted?”
“I think about her son. I can’t be for sure, she didn’t mention much to me about it. Just asked if you were here, then asked if she could wait for your return when I told her you were out.”
“Okay, thank you. I’ll go speak with her.”
“She’s in the parlor.”
Jordan remembered Arianni and Feynriel. He was the boy who had tried to run away, only to be caught by slavers and almost sent to Tevinter. When Jordan had rescued him, Anders had then taken him to Merrill’s Dalish clan, who after some convincing, had taken him in for training. It had been surprising they took him in, considering he was human, but apparently Keeper Marethari was willing. Jordan hadn’t heard much after that, and had assumed Feynrial was doing well. Maybe that wasn’t the case now.
As Jordan went to make her way to the parlor, Anders grabbed her arm.
“Jordan, are you sure you’re up to this?” he asked.
“I’m just hearing her out,” Jordan said as she took her arm from his grip. “That’s it.”
Anders raised an eyebrow.
“What? Don’t give me that look. Let’s hear what she has to say first, then decide what to do afterwards.”
Anders closed his eyes as he sighed. He then gestured for Jordan to lead the way.
As Jordan entered the parlor, she saw Arianni seated on the couch in front of the fire. There was a cup of untouched tea in front of her, and as Jordan approached, she had to mentally catch herself. It reminded her too much of her mother.
“Serah Hawke,” Arianni said, seeing Jordan. She stood from the couch and bowed to her. “I want to apologize. I did not mean to come here during such a time. If I had known, I would have come later. However, it may already be too late.”
“It’s all right,” said Jordan. “How would you have known? I don’t think the alienage was aware that my mother's funeral was today, despite nearly the rest of Kirkwall knowing, apparently.”
“Except I should have known. I remember when Merrill came to my door, asking if I had seen your mother that night. I told her I hadn’t, and I did nothing else. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
“It’s not like you could have done anything anyway.” Jordan sighed. “But what brings you here now?”
“Right.” Arianni stood straight and proud in front of Jordan. It caught Jordan a little off guard considering she wasn’t used to elves being so familiar with her. Arianni’s Dalish nature, even with her living amongst humans for so many years, still showed through. It made Jordan smile, since she felt all elves deserved to feel the same way and not be afraid to talk to humans.
“It has to do with Feynrial, my son,” Arianni continued. “You helped him so much in the past, so I thought you would be the best person to come to now.”
“Okay. What’s going on with him? Is he doing okay with the Dalish?”
“He is, from what I hear. I’ve tried to speak with him on numerous occasions. Sent him letters, but he never wrote back. I even ventured out to the Dalish clan a few times, but he never wanted to see me. Keeper Marethari reassured me he was doing well, but that’s all she really said. I’m not sure why he doesn’t want to see me, but just hearing he was well was enough.”
Jordan could see in Arianni’s eyes that even though her words said it was enough, those eyes told a different story.
“Do you want me to go see him myself?” Jordan asked. “I could do that. Give him a nice talking to for making his mother worry.”
“No, that’s not what I need from you. In fact, I’m not entirely sure what I really need. I was just told by the Keeper to have you there when she arrives.”
“When she arrives?” Jordan looked on at Arianni confused. “What’s going on?”
“I’m… not so sure myself. The Keeper sent me a letter, stating that Feynrial had gone into a deep sleep about two days ago. He’s been trapped in a nightmare, and can’t be woken. She said she was on her way to me, said they needed a place that Feynrial was attached to and familiar with.”
“He’s trapped in a nightmare?” said Anders. “Sounds like he might be possessed by a demon. Is Marethari bringing with her more mages?”
“I don’t know the full details,” said Arianni. “I only know she asked that you be there, Serah Hawke. But demons? Could he really be possessed and the Keeper not want to tell me?” Arianni’s eyes widened with fear.
“I can’t be for certain,” said Anders. “But it does sound like Marethari is wanting to perform a ritual to enter the Fade. If he’s possessed, then entering the Fade is the only way to deal with the demon and free the mage. I just wonder if her ritual is the same as the one we’re taught in the Circle. Or if the Dalish have their own way of entering the Fade.”
“Why would it be different?” Jordan asked.
“Because the ritual I know involves at least four mages and a lot of lyrium. You need three mages to perform the ritual, while the fourth enters the Fade and confronts the demon. Between myself, Marethari, and maybe Merrill—that’s three mages, but I don’t know who the fourth would be. And I have no clue where Marethari would get the amount of lyrium she needs, unless she has a deal with the Carta.”
“They’ve been stuck in the same place for more than three years,” said Jordan. “Who knows what deals the clan may have made to stay alive.”
“She’s going to be here tomorrow evening,” said Arianni. “She was leaving right away. Do you think you can be there?”
Jordan stared at Arianni, seeing a worried and fearful mother. Not knowing what was going on with her child or what she could even do to help. Only wanting to do something—anything—to keep him safe. She had to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. “She’s coming to your house?”
“Yes,” Arianni said, nodding.
“Then we’ll be there.” Jordan looked to Anders, who only nodded as well without complaint.
“Oh, thank the Creators.” Arianni bowed to Jordan deeply. “Ma serannas, Serah Hawke. I will be in your debt yet again.”