It had been about a day since his last visit to the Nicollier’s townhouse. Tiberius hadn’t slept, crackling with manic adrenaline since an ill-fated encounter at the columbarium. Part of him felt like a passenger behind his own eyes, wondering when his energy would flag and the crash would hit, overwhelming him.
Not for some time, if they were lucky.
The early hours of the morning had involved a great deal of magic. The carriage was pulled out of storage and warded. Horses had been acquired – formally beautiful animals, just beginning to suffer under the darkspawn siege – now host to demons in thrall to his own. Thankfully there hadn’t been much to pack in his rented rooms. Tiberius’ long standing indifference had seen most of his servants and possessions sent away or abandoned long ago. His clothes, a handful of small sentimental items, and that was all.
This was a special occasion, though. He’d made a little more effort in self presentation. Tiberius arrived at the townhouse in his best clothes, hair and beard freshly trimmed. He dismounted the carriage bench with his mage staff tucked under his arm like a more reasonable man might carry a walking stick. The horses had stopped exactly where he willed and stood twitching eerily beneath their skin, lather coated, white eyes rolling in their heads. Viewing his handiwork in the morning sun, he regretted their destruction.
But living animals would not tolerate being worked through the blighted countryside – nor being run for days at a time. A more charitable person might say a useful death was better than a slow starvation but he had no time to bother lying to himself. The footman at the door was gray faced under his mask, sickly against the rich color of his starched collar. Tiberius smiled at him without warmth.
“Let the Nicolliers know I’m here to collect their daughter now. If you please.”
Lyric wasn’t exactly looking forward to going to Tevinter, let alone marrying Tiberius. Sure he was easy on the eyes, but his personality lacked in her mind, but then their meeting wasn’t exactly under the most ideal circumstances, so there was a part of her willing to give his personality the benefit of the doubt.
However, her heart pounded with anxiety as she packed her belongings, wondering what her new life would look like. As the footman delivered the message of Tiberius's arrival, she drew a deep breath, bracing herself for the journey ahead. She didn’t have much for belongings, at least that were actually hers. When her parents took her from the Free Marches, they bought her a lot of new stuff, just to keep up appearances, but she didn’t really consider any of it hers.
As she packed, she filled her bags with the few personal items she truly cared about: a small sketchbook filled with her drawings, the simple necklace her grandmother had given her, and a book of fairy tales she held dear. She took one last look at her room, a mix of anticipation and uncertainty filling her as she prepared to say goodbye to the life she knew. She’d kept hoping her or Aki would figure out a way out of it, but if her family sent the House of Repose against Aki, they wouldn’t stop sending people until he was dead, and she couldn’t have that.
With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bags and walked towards the front door. Tiberius was already there, waiting for her. She looked at him, a man she barely knew, and yet was about to entrust her life to. All she could do now was hope for the best.
I’m all ready. She carried one bag herself, but the servants carried the other bags, it wasn’t much, but it was all she had. Her real possessions were back home in the Free Marches after all. She imagined eventually the truth would come out about her life, she just hoped if it did she’d be able to trust Tiberius, because if he went back to her parents about it, her loved ones were as good as dead.
Tiberius wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Something theatrical, perhaps. It would have been entertaining, for example, to explain to Mariette Nicollier that no, she would not be going to Minrathous. Not even to see her only living daughter wed.
Alas, it seemed as though Lyric’s parents did not care to rise early enough to see her off – and much less were they willing to consider dangerous international travel. He was disappointed, though uncertain himself whether it was only this diminishment of sport that had gotten under his skin. Certainly he didn’t feel protective over his future bride’s feelings.
Really, after perhaps an hour in Lyric’s company, there seemed hardly anything there to feel at all. Not one way or the other. She’d expressed no opinions and barely spoke, rising neither to her own defense nor to that of her family’s name. Grandfather would entirely approve, of course. She was something like the old man’s ideal of a first wife: an easily controlled mage of no particular importance to breed and then discard. A more politically advantageous match could be worried about later, once House Umbra’s legacy was secure.
Tiberius had his doubts. He watched the Nicolliers’ servants load and secure most of Lyric’s belongings, wondering idly what might be in the bag she carried herself. His mind ran naturally to the paranoid, from weapons to poisons to maybe just a particularly offensive beef sandwich. (He could not abide the consumption of flesh – red meat and blood sorcery made nauseating bedfellows.)
He opened the carriage door and offered her a hand up, climbing in after she was settled. Tiberius sat across from her, peering back out through the wire lattice windows. The view was poor, but he could perceive as much or as little as he liked of what his summoned demons saw and smelled and heard. He set them to a trot with a thought, eager to be gone.
Even worn down as it was, Val Royeaux was still beautiful. He could afford to be fond, just for now. Yesterday he might have preferred to burn the whole city down. After several minutes of silence, his eyes flicked back to Lyric’s face. Belatedly, he remembered he should be doing more to entertain her. That thought was neatly discarded with a curl of his lips.
“It’s your last chance to run away screaming, I’m afraid. The roads are far too dangerous and I cannot abide turning back or diverting once we’re upon them.”
Eventually she figured it would be safe to tell Tiberius the truth, how her parents had forced her hand to marry him, by threatening her family. Well, she hoped at least, there was always the possibility that he’d side with her parents, she needed to get to know him better before she could safely make that decision.
She didn’t realise just how close to her she was keeping the bag she’d brought herself, it wasn’t a very big bag, but it held things in it that were very dear to her, things she’d had on her when her parents had ‘collected’ her, things that were actually hers and not simply bought in the last few days to keep up appearances. She looked up when Tiberius spoke to her, then looked out the carriage window, and then back at Tiberius. The first step in getting back to her family was getting away from her parents, so the faster they left, the happier she would be.
She managed a small, genuine smile and replied, **No running or screaming from me. I'm ready to face whatever lies ahead.** Her voice was determined, a faint glimmer of strength shining through the uncertainty. She wondered how Tiberius would feel if and when he found out the truth about her, would he be enraged at her, or at her parents for what they did to her and the position they put her in. She just couldn’t be sure yet, but the further they got from her parents, the more her true personality would shine through, without the risk of her parents ire at her.
You must be excited to be getting home. It was probably the first genuine thing she’d said to Tiberius since meeting him, but not having her parents breathing down her neck did wonders for her personality.
Whatever lies ahead. Tiberius quirked a brow at that open ended sentiment, weighing it carefully. Trying to decide if it had its roots in optimism or in ignorance – or if it was some form of calculated defiance instead. Either the first or the last, judging by her smile. That, at least, was better than yesterday’s gray monotone.
Her question caught him off guard, although it probably shouldn’t have. It was merely good manners, after all. Lyric would have been trained on deportment and conversation. Up until her family discarded her.
So had he. The situation called for an affirmative with no further detail, than an equally anemic question about her own well being. But they’d be stuck in this rolling box together for days to come. Tiberius leaned back into the velvet cushions and considered. His natural feelings were always difficult to pin down, flashes of lightning through Despair’s indifferent fog.
“Excited is a good word for it. And yet, six years is a very long time to be away from home.” He tilted his head, one hand resting on his throat while the other tapped restlessly on his knee.
“I don’t know what I’ve missed— And that worries me.” He wrinkled his nose. Admitting weakness of any kind always felt like a deadly mistake, no matter that anyone with eyes could see he was full of the things. Lyric deserved the truth, though. She was walking into the same dangers as him but with much less foreknowledge.
“At the absolute worst, my House may have fallen.” It had been helmed by a ninety-nine year old man. While Grandfather was always larger than life (and slightly terrifying) in Tiberius’ memory, one had to consider that he was merely mortal. Even stolen vitality eventually failed. “I’d have nothing to offer and you, my dear, would be stuck in a hostile land.
“At best, they wave us through the border and nothing has changed at all.”[/color] He rolled one shoulder, a lazy shrug. “Reality will probably land somewhere in between. I was not entirely without allies when I left.”
Tiberius stopped the carriage as they waited for Val Royeaux’s gates to groan open. He nudged her shoe with the toe of his boot, eyes half-lidded and lips curved into a teasing smile.
“And you, Lyric? Are you excited to marry a rude Tevene heretic?”He had not thought so yesterday.
Lyric listened, genuinely, the more she understood about this man outside of her parents, the better her chances were. Was he like her parents, would he care that she was there against her will, or would he sympathise with her situation, possibly even be able to help her, she simply wouldn’t know until she got to know him better now that she wasn’t under the watchful eyes of her parents.
Tevinter, what she knew about it could probably fit in a thimble, and was probably just most of the propaganda the Templars and Chantry spewed about them here in the south. She knew they perpetuated slavery, and wondered if that meant if Tiberius owned slaves. Not that there wasn’t slavery in the south, not officially any way. No high class non mage person in the south would ever admit to the way they treated elves, and the only way they were forced to admit to the way they treated mages was the mage templar war.
Lyric's gaze met his, her expression unreadable. They were a pair of strangers, bound by circumstance and soon to be bound by law. She couldn't help but wonder what kind of man Tiberius truly was beneath the surface. I suppose, she replied, offering him a small, tentative smile, I am excited for the adventure that lies ahead. It was that, an adventure, and Lyric was ever the optimist even in times like these.
I am curious though, how was it Tevinter was able to break from Chantry and allow mages to flourish? I mean in the south they just talk about how heretical it all was, but considering how the Templars and Chantry treated us mages, I am inclined not to believe them about the stuff they said about Tevinter. She was genuinely curious, she’d wanted to ask since she met Tiberius, but with her parents breathing down her neck, she just hadn’t felt they’d feel it was appropriate dinner conversation.
“Is that right– You want a history lesson?” He hadn’t thought his bride-to-be would take that direction after hearing of their uncertain future. Still, there was little that Tiberius enjoyed more than dispelling ignorance with a dose of knowledge. While he did not consider himself a particularly devout man, he’d been raised alongside the Imperial Chantry. In his family and many others, it represented an alternate route to power – or a double dip for some of the largest and most influential Houses.
The carriage creaked forward and was soon back up to speed, demon horses trotting prettily. Or, at least they were pretty from a distance.
“Very well. I can hardly deny you that. It’s simple: from the Imperial point of view, we didn’t break from your chantry at all. We’ve had our own – since before grand Orlais was nothing more than howling Ciriane tribesmen. I’m sure you were taught about Archon Hessarian and the Sword of Mercy?” A cynic would say the ancient Archon’s conversion had been merely a political move, a way to pacify the lower castes and wipe out the troublesome priesthood of the Old Gods.
Tiberius didn’t necessarily agree. A shrewd stratagem turned religion would not endure over a thousand years without making its own kind of meaning. Or maybe Hessarian really had heard something as he watched a woman die in flames.
“‘Magic must serve man, and never to rule over him,’ It comes down to that, of course. We let mages serve, to become clerics and vote in our senate— rather than locking them all up and murdering them whenever we feel like it.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, exhaling loudly. Putting his anger and revulsion out of mind. If Lyric had been a Circle mage in the south, that one line of scripture had likely defined a great deal of her life. He glanced back up at her, possessed of an acerbic sort of distance once more.
“When Joyous II got wind in late Towers, she declared our whole clergy heretics. Four Exalted Marches couldn’t cure us of our wicked ways, however. Now the Imperial Chantry does such wild things as allowing men to serve in all roles and letting priests marry. Shocking, I know.
“As to why it’s different for us, I …” Perhaps there was some inherent arrogance or wrongness in them after all. That his people would never hand over power freely, not for faith or on threat of war. They were bred for it, going back countless generations to the days they’d been tribal cultists themselves. “I don’t know. Why didn’t you fight harder, run further?”Twenty rites of annulment on the books, even as recent as ten years ago. Tevinter would have taken them in, anyone that could get there. It wouldn’t have been an easy life for first generation asylum seekers – but anything at all was better than death at the hands of addled Templar keepers.
“But of course, things are changing in your world, aren’t they?” A mage Divine, however brief, had been quite unthinkable until many other unthinkable things occurred. “Bet those holy women of old would be pulling all their hair out.”
Lyric listened wide eyed, it was fascinating hearing about Tevinter from an actual Vint. He seemed a bit humble about the telling of his history, yet also clear and to the point. She didn’t interrupt any of it, she just enjoyed imagining a world where mages weren’t treated like slaves.
Tiberius's question about why she hadn't fought harder or run further made her pause. She had thought about running, but fear and uncertainty had held her back. She had been raised to believe that there was nowhere to run, that all roads led back to the Circle. But now, looking at Tiberius, she couldn't help but wonder if there had been another way, a different path she could have taken.
To be honest, even after that mage blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall and sparked the mage rebellion, I was still a bit scared to leave the Circle. Wasn’t sure where I belonged, my parents aren’t exactly warm and fuzzy, something I’m sure you noticed, so I didn’t feel like I could go home back then, and then there’s the business of our phylacteries. If I couldn’t steal mine, the Templars would be able to find me wherever I went and punish anyone that helped me. She also thought how she imagined the slaves in Tevinter felt much the same way as she had felt under the thumb under the Templars, but for now she chose to keep her mouth shut on the topic.
But eventually, I took my chances and left. I joined the rebellion, fought for our freedom. But freedom comes with its own challenges, its own fears. It's a constant struggle, but I wouldn't have it any other way. At least now, I have a voice. She looked out the window, her mind filled with memories of battles fought and friends lost. Things in Starkhaven had been going well, it was led by people who wanted to keep the changes that had been made the last thirteen years, people she trusted, a leader she believed in. She decided at that moment, at least until she knew if she could truly trust Tiberius, that if he asked why she hadn’t gone home until recently, that it was because she was in Starkhaven helping to foster and keep the changes there, to do the important work where she was appreciated and felt safe.
“Ah. Forgive me. I can see how that situation would be difficult to escape once it had begun.” Had the southern mages of ages past simply been so terribly docile, bound so easily by faith? The sympathetic casting potential alone – of allowing a phylactery to exist – was enough to give any magic-gifted Tevene fits and nightmares.
Imagine thinking one was safe at home, behind wards strengthened by generation after generations of your own family. A blood mage with your phylactery could use it to sneak a killing spell in. Something like Walking Bomb, if it spread as it was designed to do. Tiberius considered it, expression curdling as he counted in his head how many children and slaves and animals that even his low House had contained. Targets that had no magical defenses at all.
“And did you, Lyric? Steal your phylactery?” Maker forfend – if she were to become pregnant – and that seemed a likely outcome as a rather typical consequence of marriage … Tiberius groaned and threw his head back, staring up at the roof of the carriage for several seconds before squeezing his eyes shut. The demon horses made uneasy noises and picked up the pace.
“I think it must be destroyed at our first opportunity.” If it wasn’t already. He needed to get this thread of panic under control. He needed to think about literally anything else. What had they been talking about? Lyric fighting templars. That was a strange image. Tiberius hadn’t been able to get her to fight him at all, no matter what terrible thing he said. He opened his eyes and looked back at her, wan in the sunlight breaking through the wire lattice windows. She was looking out at the countryside, seemingly absorbed in her own thoughts.
“Did you really? Good. That’s good. You’ll need that strength in Tevinter. I’d expect they’ll want to interview us at the border.”
She looked back at him, her eyes meeting his, her expression unreadable. She was about to leave everything she knew behind, step into the unknown. This journey, this new life, it was a daunting prospect. But she had to do it. She didn't have a choice. Her life, her family’s future, it all depended on this.
I wasn’t alone, there was a group of us that went after ours, not all of us made it, but those of us that did destroyed all that we could find. She decided not to mention that her family had ways of always finding her, especially since she was prone to wander, but that was frankly none of Tiberius’s business at the moment, since she wasn’t quite ready yet to explain the fact her parents forced her into the marriage against her will and at the threat to her family.
A silence fell between them, the hum of the carriage and the distant sounds of the countryside their only companions. Lyric couldn't help but cast a glance at Tiberius, wondering what thoughts were running through his head. She knew so little about the man she was about to marry, she thought wistfully.
Tell me about my sister? It was probably a strange question, but she since she was sent away at the young age of eight, she didn’t really know her siblings all that well, and something about learning about her through Tiberius’s eyes intrigue her. She felt like perhaps she could get the measure of him depending on what he said about her sister. I was sent away to the Circle at age eight, so what I know about her is rather limited, since I never really knew her as an adult. Did she become her own person, or had she simply lived in the large shadow of their parents.
That wasn’t entirely definitive, especially with the decentralized storage of phylacteries. Perhaps if he wrote an inquiry to the Circle in Starkhaven? … No, better not.
But hadn’t she gone back to the Circle, after all that? Which hardly made any sense.
Tell me about my sister. All concerns about security and babies fled his mind at once. Tiberius crossed his arms over his chest, gaze skimming over Lyric. One similar feature to the next. Narrow, sharpish nose. Fine, flyaway hair. A smile that showed rather a lot of teeth – only Lyric wasn’t smiling now. She was intent, expectant. Predator’s gaze – some kind of test.
Ironically, it made her look more like Mel than ever.
“I’d rather cut myself open, to be perfectly honest.” Knife across the belly, glistening ropey mess, something to dissect with that same scholar’s tone as before. But no, that was too shocking even for him. He let part of his attention drift horsewards, shuffling emotions like skipping rocks. If Lyric had been eight, Melodie had been ten or thereabouts? All that time away and a long journey back, even longer than the one he’d been on for six years now.
“I went to visit her last night. To say goodbye, since I’ll never step foot in this country again.” He left that hanging in the air, brow creased. He couldn’t mention the monster in human skin or its blasphemous offer.
“I only knew her for a year but she was splendid. Smart, independent, ruthless — and I mean that in the most complimentary fashion. Mel always saw a straight line to what she wanted. No doubt at all. I wanted that for myself.
“And she wanted a way out of your father’s house, more than anything. That we got along? A happy surprise, I think. We would have been married this spring but she took ill. It was very sudden.”
You really loved her…. An observation, a surprise, it wasn’t like she could be sure when first meeting Tiberius, what sort of man he was. The way he talked about Mel though, made Lyric a bit sad she never truly got a chance to know her sister, but hearing about her through Tiberius definitely helped. Does that mean she trusted him enough to tell him her secret, not quite, but she was definitely getting there.
I’m sorry for your loss. I should have said that before, but… well…. being around my parents brings back a lot of unpleasant childhood memories. I’m not really myself when I’m around them. Considering not only did they turn Lyric into them the moment she showed signs of magic, they also paid them to make sure she was far from Orlais, they clearly weren’t the warm and fuzzy and nurturing parent types.
I hope in time, you will be able to find some comfort in your memories of her. And thank you, for sharing a part of her with me. She offered him a small, sincere smile, appreciating his willingness to open up about such a personal matter.
They rode in silence for awhile, Lyric struggling not to think about her family. At least she’d seen Akibrus and Aria before she’d left Orlais, that had certainly given her comfort and courage to face what was ahead. Then after some time the carriage slowed to a stop, something in the path perhaps?
I wonder what’s wrong…. She looked out one of the carriage windows. Do you hear that? It sounded like a wounded animal not far from them. Lyric grabbed her staff and suddenly fled the safety of the carriage, determined to find what was making the sound. It’s not far, it sounds like it’s coming from just to the right of us!!!!
“Yes.” Of course. What else but love could have compelled him to pay an exorbitant bride-price for an unsuitable match? A foreign Sleeper, not even a virgin, too old to bear pregnancy easily, and no social connections to speak of that would have been of any use in the north.
The only reason he’d let himself feel anything for Mel at all was that he thought he’d never be here, now. Going home. They’d always been more than a little bit doomed, Tiberius could admit that.
“It’s alright.” It obviously wasn’t, but he summoned up a weak smile anyway. “I’m sure my family will find this situation more to their liking.” Lyric’s magical gifts would outweigh any other inadequacies in the eyes of Tevene society. Though exactly how much rope she might have depended entirely on the status of House Umbra.
If only Mel had lived – if only she’d been given a chance. Brilliance and ambition might have been useless for an unmarried Orlesian lady but he knew she would have taken the House’s clandestine activities in hand like a proper spymaster. The knife in the night while he saw to their daily political concerns. It was a nice dream to dwell in as he sank into a light doze.
Some time later, Despair brought him back to wakefulness, a lash of bruise-purple that settled in as an incipient stress headache. The horses had stopped. Lyric was agitated about something, too loud, scrambling out the door like a mad fool. Some distant part of his mind thought well, that’s about right. He’d go on to Minrathous without her. Marry some Tilani or Icarius third cousin and give up his first child for that dubious honor – and never need think about this again.
But the horses had stopped. Slowly, he realized they wouldn’t just do that because Lyric wanted to take a walk. Swearing under his breath, Tiberius ducked his head and hopped down from the carriage.
Disuse had done the road no favors. It was overgrown, a fallen tree blocking the way. Lyric had been in a hurry, leaving a trail wide enough to follow through the brush. Tiberius raised a hand, casting a soap bubble of invisibility over the carriage and team. By now, he could hear the animal she’d been so upset about. Canine whimpering — then growling and snarling. He ran after her.
It was a big, skinny, hybrid mutt – Tiberius wasn’t enough of an animal person to tell more than that. Front left paw stuck in a rusty trap, pulled tight and oozing as it tried to get away from them. Tiberius reached for Lyric’s arm, worried she’d rush right up to the terrified animal.
Lyric was determined, she wasn’t going to stop until she found the animal in trouble, regardless of the dangers that were around them. Compared to the way she had acted since meeting Tiberius, this was probably the most like her genuine self that she’d been, and it was all instinctual. She slowed when she found the animal, clearly afraid. It didn’t look like a wild animal though, so she imagined it used to be someone’s pet before perhaps getting lost or left behind, whether that had been on purpose or unintentional, was impossible to tell. She turned her head slightly to Tiberius, not wanting to make any sudden movements.
It just needs to see it can trust me. She said with a wink, her staff lit up as she focused her powers, tapping into zomancer. Communicating with an animal wasn’t like communicating with a person, it was more about expressing feelings and images, but the dog seemed to understand she was only trying to help. The hair that had been standing up relaxed, and the dog stopped pulling away from the trap, which was only injuring it worse. Though it still looked generally suspicious of Lyric.
See easy peasy. Then she used some basic magic to help pry the trap open. The dog backed away a bit as it was freed, but didn’t go far, curious about those that had helped it. It looked mangey, it definitely needed a bath and probably some flea treatment, as well as a good home cooked meal, it looked far too skinny. At no point did Lyric ask Tiberius for help, she was in her element when it came to helping others, regardless of species.
I can heal its paw, but we can’t just leave it here. It would be inhumane in these conditions, he’s sure to end up in another trap, or up against wild wolves, or worse, blighted. She stated, as she went about healing the dog’s paw, between that and using her powers to calm the dog, it was really starting to trust Lyric, even wagging its tail a bit as the paw healed. The whole thing reminded her of the not so distant past when her partner Ronan helped her heal a messenger pigeon, thinking about her family made her miss home, but she was focused on helping the dog so the sadness didn’t show as clearly as it might have otherwise.
”Don’t we all.” Tiberius let go of her, resigned. He could hardly browbeat Lyric into using her magic one day and then deny her the chance on the very next. Well – he could – but even he wasn’t that much of an arsehole. Most of the time.
Still, it was a little odd to watch her befriend the wolfdog with a spell. People tended to shout and call the templars when you did that to other people, even in Tevinter. It was a little creepy, to be honest. He stayed rooted to the spot, pensively watching the proceedings.
”What? You can’t be serious.” Inhumane? No, that would be leaving it to die in the trap. Now that it was free and mended it could go back to doing … Whatever the fuck wild dogs did. There was no one this far out in the countryside – hadn’t been in a long time. This dog was young, not quite grown into its frankly humongous paws.
”Lyric, we don’t even have food for it.” Didn’t dogs need to eat meat? Tiberius did not, and the provisions he’d arranged were naturally according to his tastes. He sighed, judging by her face and this entire outburst that this was a fight that he wasn’t about to win easily. ”Fiiiine. We’ll figure something out."
Better not to leave anything to the Blight. As someone that most often fought with open, self-inflicted wounds … Well, darkspawn were a terror to consider. He trudged back through the trees, dismissing the spell that cloaked their carriage. After opening the door, he turned back to Lyric and the dog, sitting on the steps.
”Listen, puppy. Your passengers aren’t welcome.” He offered his hand to the creature, glancing up at Lyric in mild disgust at smelly dog breath and the wet nose bumping cautiously into his palm. Resting his hand on its head, he cast a precise by very weak draining spell. The animal’s parasite burden expired all at once, many tiny deaths. Standing again, he motioned for Lyric to get in, helping the dog in after her.
”It’s, uhh … I think it’s a girl. What do you want to call her?”
