Chapter Text
Josephine paced, and each step rattled Ellana’s nerves.
The diplomat glanced at Leliana. “Your agents confirm there are gaatlok barrels in Denerim’s palace?”
“Yes,” Leliana replied, her tone tight. “And in Val Royeaux, and across the Free Marches. The Winter Palace is not the only target.”
Cullen let out a long, tense sigh. “The Qunari are one order away from destroying every noble house in the known world.”
“There is a bright side,” Josephine said, forcing a flicker of optimism. “Warning the ambassadors will remind them of the Inquisition’s value.”
Leliana shook her head. “Not when the Inquisition is responsible for the threat.” Gods, everything was falling apart.
Ellana’s chest tightened. “What happened?”
“The elven servant handling the barrels confessed. They were working for the Qunari,” Leliana revealed.
Josephine sputtered. “But the servant was Orlesian! That implicates Orlais, not us!”
“The barrels arrived at the Winter Palace on the Inquisition’s supply manifest,” Leliana said, fatigue creeping into her voice.
Cullen slammed his hands against the table. “How are we supposed to fight a war if we can’t even trust our own people?”
“We can’t change what happened,” Ellana said quietly, “only how we respond.”
Josephine’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her voice trembled. “I fought to protect the Inquisition in this Exalted Council. And for what? To deceive and threaten those we swore to defend?”
Ellana’s brow creased. “Once we locate the spies—”
“This isn’t about the spies!” Josephine’s voice cracked. “You hid the Qunari body. You’ve all but seized control of the Winter Palace!”
“Josephine—”
Cullen snarled, “We did what was right, not what was politically convenient!”
Josephine turned to him, fury sparking in her eyes. “Do you know what this has cost us with Orlais and Ferelden? They’re planning to dismantle us as we speak! And perhaps… perhaps they are right—”
Pain erupted in Ellana’s hand.
Her knees buckled against the cold stone as she clutched her wrist. The Anchor flared, green fire crackling along her veins. A guttural scream tore from her throat as her head tossed back, eyes squeezed shut. Tears streamed freely. She felt as if she were burning from the inside out.
Frantic hands grasped her shoulders and cupped her face. “Ellana?” Josephine’s voice pierced through the agony. “Ellana, talk to me!”
When the pain subsided, Ellana opened her eyes. Only anger remained. Her gaze swept over the stunned faces of the people who had once been her advisors, and she absorbed just how fractured they had become.
She hissed through gritted teeth. “Shit.” Rising, she shrugged off Josephine’s trembling touch and staggered back, still clutching her hand. “We save Ferelden, and they’re angry. We save Orlais, and they’re angry. We close the Breach twice, and my own hand wants to kill me. Could one thing in this fucking world just stay fixed?!”
Josephine curled inward, silent tears falling as Leliana’s hand rested on her shoulder in quiet support. Cullen paled as he braced himself against the table. Ellana drew a shuddering breath, forcing her body forward, ignoring the pain spreading like wildfire through her veins.
“I… I need to get to the Darvaarad,” she rasped. “You can fight amongst yourselves once I’m… once I’m back.”
A sharp jolt of fear shot through her bond with Josephine. The diplomat collided with her side, yanking Ellana into a desperate embrace. The anger dimmed, leaving exhaustion that nearly buckled her knees.
“Can you inform the Exalted Council of the danger?” Ellana whispered, blinking through the haze. “If… we fail, they need to know what happened.”
“I will inform them personally,” Leliana replied softly.
Josephine shook her head. “Leliana, I can—”
“Your job is hard enough already, and we have only made it harder,” Leliana cut her off. “This is my responsibility.”
Cullen’s voice, low and steady, reached her. “I’ll have guards ready at the eluvian, in case the Qunari attack the palace.”
A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Ellana met Leliana’s hooded gaze. “Maker watch over you.”
“Take care of her,” Ellana whispered, and in an instant, she was back in Haven, beneath the crushing weight of Corypheus’s first assault. How simple it had seemed then. How new. How fleeting. What had ever happened to the coat she had given Josephine? The thought lingered strangely.
Part of her wanted to stay and curl up into Josephine’s side. Forget the pain. Go see a ridiculous show in Orlais, and pretend the world hadn’t started to burn around them again. But the pain spread through her hand, into her arm, her chest like a cruel countdown. It was relentless. This time, she wouldn’t be able to stop it.
She refused to look at Josephine, knowing she couldn’t handle the panic and grief she would find there. She wanted to say something, anything, even a quiet goodbye, but her jaw locked as her breath trembled. With one last shuddering glance, she turned and left, leaving only devastation behind through the bond.