Chapter One Hundred Thirty: Church and State
I woke early, sliding out of bed quietly so as not to disturb Alistair. For some reason I couldn't explain, talking to Dorothea seemed a million times scarier than talking to Greagoir had been, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I curled up in the window seat, cracking the shutters open a small amount to let in some fresh air.
As I sat watching the guards patrolling the gardens below in the pre-dawn light, I tried to analyse my fears.
Dorothea is a good person, at least, as far as I can tell. Leli trusts her. What do I have to be afraid of?
I reflected with a snort that the fact that Anders' fate rested on me telling Greagoir who I was had to have made some impact. I would never have told the uncooperative Knight-Commander if it hadn't been for trying to get Anders out of the dungeon; no one's safety directly rested on me talking to Dorothea.
Part of it, too, was not knowing Dorothea well. I'd read Asunder, and played Leliana's Song and DA2, but none of those focused on her much, and they were my only source. With Greagoir, I had played the mage origin enough times to know that while he was a templar, he wasn't Meredith, Alrik, or Lambert...he was a decent person in a bad situation. The Chantry was who had failed in Kinloch, not the Knight-Commander specifically.
And that, of course, was the final reason -- the most important one. I didn't trust the Chantry, didn't like the religion or how it manipulated events for its own benefit, didn't respect many of those in positions of power within it. And Dorothea, like it or not, was part of that establishment -- and at the top, not a low-level order-follower like Greagoir. Elemena was evil, Elthina just stupid...I didn't have a lot of reasons to trust any Grand Cleric, really.
Buy what's she really going to do to me? I'll have Aedan, Zevran, and Alistair with me, and even if I was somehow separated and captured, I'll just disappear and reappear -- or can I do that, anymore? It's been a while... But it's going to be fine either way.
I watched the guards for a while longer, eyes drooping as I tried to reassure myself and stay calm. I'd probably have fallen asleep there if Alistair hadn't crept up behind me, his warm arms wrapping around my waist and his chin coming to rest on my shoulder, startling me.
"Couldn't sleep?" he croaked, voice hoarse with sleep. I shook my head and he squeezed me tighter, his chest pressing against my back firmly. "You should have woken me."
"You need your rest. No reason both of us should be tired." I squirmed around in his arms until I was facing him, tracing the planes of his face with my fingers. "Duncan would have killed me for even thinking about meeting with the Grand Cleric."
He kissed my forehead softly. "Is that what's kept you sleepless? Duncan wouldn't have had you tell anyone but him the truth, if he could have managed that. And there is some risk, he wasn't wrong...but there's a lot to gain if things go well, too. He would have played it cautiously, but that wouldn't necessarily have been the right thing to do. Sierra, I'd tell you if I thought this was reckless. Aedan too. But Thedas is heading into a war that might destroy all of us, and you are the one person who might be able to change things. This is the first step, and we will be right here to take it with you." I closed my eyes and shivered as he pressed kisses to my lips, my jaw, and my ear.
"You're freezing!" he admonished me. "Here, come back to bed. Let me warm you up."
As usual, in a heady rush of love and lust, I forgot to be anxious anymore.
We finally got up and I showered quickly, washing my hair and braiding it back to look like the noblewoman I was supposed to be. I put on a dress, clasped on a cloak, and only kept Alistair waiting for a couple of minutes by the time I was done.
"Ready?" he asked, reaching out to take my hand, weaving our fingers together.
"As I'll ever be."
Zevran and Aedan were waiting for us, and I picked at some breakfast listlessly while the three men talked about the shipwreck and the remaining survivors to be interviewed after our meeting with Dorothea. No one had any new ideas on who was to blame, so the conversation wasn't compelling enough to keep me distracted.
Leliana arrived a little while later, having decided to come and escort us back to the Chantry; without any discussion, she stayed at my side, chattering away about nothing to take my mind off where we were going. We walked to the main doors of the palace to find a carriage awaiting us; Alistair helped me up, pulling me into his lap for the ride to the Chantry. The closed carriage kept me from seeing much of the city, but Alistair made up for the lack of a view by whispering naughty things in my ear, tickling the sensitive skin of my neck and ear with his stubble. Aedan complained briefly until Leliana and Zevran shot him dirty looks and distracted him with discussion about the Wardens left behind in Amaranthine and what they might be up to.
We finally arrived at the Chantry, and Leliana immediately led us inside, bypassing the sisters who stood near the doors to direct visitors, bringing us to a narrow, steep stairway in a dark corner of the main chapel instead of the wide, sweeping staircase in the foyer. "This allows us to keep this visit informal, yes? We must be seen praying in the chapel when we are finished, and then few will think to question the nature of our visit."
Once upstairs, we followed Leliana into a large open antechamber, its walls lined with chairs and a desk in the centre with a young woman sitting expectantly behind it. She pursed her lips when she saw Aedan come around the corner, clearly about to say something rude about him intruding, but then she blushed when she caught sight of Leliana.
"Sister L-Leliana!" she stuttered, standing up and wringing her hands together. "The Grand Cleric is waiting for you. Please, go straight in." She gestured to a door behind her, and with a smile Leliana led us through, knocking but not waiting for an answer before entering the room.
Dorothea's office was not at all what I expected. Based on the rest of the Chantry, I expected it to be lavish, gleaming with tacky gold accents and lots of expensive, ugly Andraste statues. Instead, the room was decorated sparsely, with a beautiful oil painting of a cliff overlooking a stormy ocean and another of a woman kneeling to pray as the only obviously expensive items; the furniture, consisting of a desk, several chairs, a large coffee table, and two over-stuffed sofas, was mismatched but somehow charming, and looked incredibly comfortable. There were throw pillows everywhere, a thick rug that I wanted to sink bare feet into, and a large stained-glass window leant the entire room a warm, homey feeling. I loved it immediately.
Dorothea herself was also a surprise; I couldn't have guessed how old she was, for starters, as her hair was pale enough I couldn't tell blond from white, and her lined face contrasted dramatically with how spry she was, leaping out of her chair and practically running over to us. Her blue eyes sparkled and she had a big smile that looked kind. Between the office and her somewhat grandmotherly appearance, I could feel some of my trepidation fade.
