The night the Wardens were taken away, Merrill came to Abigail’s home. She hovered in the foyer, pacing back and forth.
“Merrill?” Abigail asked, coming into the foyer.
“Oh! Abigail!” Merrill startled at the sound of her voice. “I—I was looking for you,” she said.
“Why? Is something wrong?”
Merrill shook her head and wrung her hands. “I—no, not really,” she said. “I just...”
“What is it?”
“I keep thinking about Sigrun and Velanna and—and the eluvian, and the Clan--” she pressed her hands against her head. “I can’t stop thinking, Abigail.”
“Merrill, it’s alright,” Abigail put her hand on Merrill’s shoulder.
“It isn’t!” Merrill insisted. “It’s all—how can this have happened? Everything gone so wrong?”
Abigail pulled her into a hug, and Merrill rested her head on Abigail’s shoulder.
“I don’t know,” Abigail said. “I don’t know how all this happened.”
“I just want to stop thinking about all of it,” Merrill said. “I want to go back. I want to fix it.”
“Merrill...” Abigail tilted Merrill’s head up. “I know how you feel.”
“Do you?” Merrill breathed. Ever so gently, Merrill leaned over, and planted a kiss on Abigail’s lips.
“Oh,” Abigail breathed when they broke apart. “Oh.’
“Is something wrong?” Merrill said, eyes wide and worried. “Oh no, I did something wrong, didn’t I?”
Abigail gave a small laugh, that sounded desperate even to her own ears. “No, no,” she said. “Nothing wrong at all.” she pulled Merrill into a harder kiss, that Merrill returned enthusiastically.
She wasn’t the only one who wanted to stop thinking about all of it.
They broke apart again, panting for breath, and Abigail smiled. “Upstairs,” she whispered.
Merrill gave a slightly nervous giggle. “I’ve never seen your bed, you know,” she said. “Is it a nice bed?”
Abigail laughed again, more genuinely this time, and leaned her forehead against Merrill’s. “The best.”
She lead Merrill up to her room by her hand, and closed and locked the door behind her.
A great while later, they were still in Abigail’s bed. Neither of them particularly felt like moving, and they clung to each other. Merrill had pulled all the covers up and over both of them.
“I love you,” Merrill breathed.
Abigail glanced at her.
“Oh dear, I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Merrill fretted, making to pull away from Abigail, but Abigail held her fast.
“No, no, it’s alright,” Abigail said. “I--” she halted. “It’s alright.”
Merrill giggled nervously and pulled the blankets closer around them.
“I don’t know about love,” Abigail said. “But I definitely do enjoy your company a great deal.”
Merrill laughed outright. “Ooh, how flattering,” she said. “You certainly know how to charm someone, don’t you?”
Abigail laughed as well, but then her face fell. “I feel as if...if I say how I feel, I’ll—I’ll break it,” she admitted, softly. “As if if I say I’m happy, I’ll curse it. I’ll make something happen.”
“Oh, Abigail,” Merrill murmured, and tilted her face to hers. “That’s alright. I’ll just say how happy I am enough for the both of us.”
Abigail smiled, and pressed her face to Merrill’s shoulder. “You could do that,” she whispered. “You could do that.”
“Are you sure you need to leave so soon?” Abigail asked the next morning, when Merrill was busy getting ready to leave.
Merrill gave her a smile. “I need to go home,” she said. “I’m not big enough to wear your clothes all day, vhenan, and I’m too tall besides!”
Abigail laughed. Merrill was indeed much skinnier than she was, but a few inches taller. Abigail’s tunics swamped her while their sleeves fell short of her wrists, and her breeches hadn’t a hope of staying up.
Merrill finished getting ready, and Abigail walked her to the door. Merrill kissed Abigail’s cheek, and turned and left. Abigail gave her a tiny wave, and leaned against the door with a sigh.
“And here I was, thinking of arranging a husband for you,” Leandra said from behind Abigail.
“Mother!” Abigail exclaimed, turning to see Leandra who stood in the doorway. She had a coy smile.
“She’s a sweet girl,” Leandra said, coming to stand beside Abigail. “Maker only knows what the neighbors will say if you’ve taken up with an elf, but...” she sighed. “If she makes you happy, dear, I suppose that’s all that matters.”
“She does,” Abigail said. “She does make me happy.”
Leandra patted her arm. “Then that is a blessing,” she said. She looked pensive. “I got the strangest delivery, you know,”
“What is it, Mother?”
“These,” she pointed to a bouquet of white lilies that lay forlorn on a nearby sideboard. They hadn’t even been put in a vase.
Abigail raised her eyebrows. “Oh, my—who are those from? That’s a bit forward, isn’t it?”
“That’s the thing,” Leandra said. “They’re anonymous.”
“Seems a little rude,” Carver appeared in the doorway, staring at the lilies with a suspicious gaze. “To just leave that without saying who it’s from.”
“It really does,” Leandra looked troubled.
“Is something wrong?” Abigail asked.
“Well, I...it’s rather unnerving, don’t you think?”
Abigail took the lilies and looked through them. “A bit,” she said. “Are you worried?”
“Perhaps,” Leandra admitted. “I don’t like the thought that some stranger feels that he can be so...open, and not even tell me his name.”
“Well, I’ll tell Aveline about it,” Abigail said. “Maybe she’s heard something. Carver? Can you keep an eye out for—I don’t know, strange men?”
“Sure,” Carver shrugged.
The strange delivery of white lilies had actually happened to three other noble women, as Aveline later explained to Abigail. The Guard was looking into it—one of the noble ladies had been extremely offended by the forward nature of the flowers, and wouldn’t stop bothering the Guard about it.
Aveline was also a bit unnerved. There had been a minor noble woman who had disappeared a year or so ago, who had gotten just this sort of arrangement of flowers from an anonymous suitor.
She promised to look into it, and in the meantime, increased the amount of Guard in Hightown.
The flowers were eventually tracked down to an apostate blood mage who seemed to revel in attacking women. He was clearly ill, violent, and perhaps most importantly, had never been found or even tracked by Templars.
Aveline was furious, and railed at Meredith about it, but in the end she couldn't do much else.
It was two months before they received word about the Wardens. When Aveline got the news, she immediately went to tell Abigail about it.
“The Wardens escaped!”
“What?”
Aveline brushed a stray strand of copper hair out of her face. “Someone helped them escape the Val Royeaux prisons—they’re gone!”
Abigail let out a startled laugh. “Oh that—that’s wonderful news! How did it happen? We couldn’t break the Wardens out of the Gallows--”
“I’m not sure,” Aveline admitted. “All I know is that they were about to have the trial, when they went and found the cells empty.”
“Even Velanna?”
“Even her.”
The news of the Wardens’ escape, though it was good, put the Templars on edge and made Meredith even more testy than normal.
Nothing much came of it, but it meant that Merrill and Anders both spent a lot more time at the Hawke residence, for fear of Templars knocking on their doors in the night. It was harder to get out of the city, and according to Anders, there were even more mages crowding the Gallows.
“It’s lucky they have so many healers,” he grumbled one evening. “Otherwise they’d have as much disease as any refugee camp.”
Anders still tried to get mages out, even with the threat of the Grand Cleric hanging over his head. The others tried to dissuade him, but he wouldn't be moved. Elthina had not yet made good on her threat, but Abigail worried that it would only be a matter of time.
The Templars, increasing their hunt for mages and magic, even impelled the Guard to search for apostates or stray magical artifacts. Aveline personally thought it was a waste of time to search for magical artifacts, but the Viscount desperately wanted to try and keep the peace between the Templars and the Guard, and urged Aveline to do what Meredith wanted.
Amidst all of this, the Viscount sent a request to see Abigail. When she arrived, she was surprised to see Fenris and Aveline waiting outside the Viscount's office as well.
“What's this about?” Abigail asked them, looking from one to the other. Aveline was tense, and Fenris had his arms folded.
“I’m not sure,” Aveline said. “It’s something to do with the Qunari.”
“It's possible the Arishok was not pleased with what the ambassadors returned with,” Fenris pointed out.
“Ambassadors?” Abigail wanted to know.
Fenris inclined his head. “The Arishok seems to have been persuaded to attempt diplomacy. The meeting went well enough. I do not know what the Viscount could want.”
The Viscount soon let them into his office. He paced back and forth, nervous.
“The Arishok sent ambassadors to speak with us,” the Viscount said. “I suppose your meetings with him impressed something vital upon him.”
“Well, that sounds good,” Abigail said.
“No—the ambassadors met with us, but when they left, they never reached the Qunari compound,” the Viscount explained. “They practically vanished off the doorstep.”
“What?” Aveline exclaimed.
“How did it happen?” Fenris asked, his brows drawn together in worry. “Do you know if someone might have ambushed them?”
“That is one of the problems, isn't it?” Dumar said. “A great number of people could have done so.”
“So you want us to look for them?” Abigail said.
“Quietly,” Dumar clarified. “They know you, and Messere Fenris would be a great help in speaking with them if you can find them. You'd help prevent greater conflict.”
“Do you have any leads?” Aveline asked.
Dumar shook his head. “Nothing. It is as if they simply vanished.” he sighed and spread his hands helplessly. “We don't know how two Qunari could have simply disappeared. Mercenary groups are more obvious than that, and the city guard--” he looked at Aveline. “If I believed your people did this, I would hardly be asking you to investigate.”
Aveline was frowning in thought. “There are many who dislike the Qunari,” she said, and began to pace. “But not to this extent...they know full well the consequences of aggravating them.”
A thought struck Abigail. “Unless a higher authority told them to,” she said.
Aveline looked at her, eyes narrowed in thought. “What are you thinking?”
Abigail jerked her head towards the door. Saying their goodbyes, they left, and Aveline and Fenris leaned in close to hear what Abigail had to say.
“Sister Petrice has already tried to aggravate the Qunari,” she muttered. “And there's definitely some Chantry people who don't like them.”
Aveline's eyes grew wide.
“You believe that the Chantry could have coerced a Guard into abducting these ambassadors?” Fenris said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “The business with the Sister was so long ago--”
“I'm not sure,” Abigail said. “But there's at least one Chantry member who's gone to lengths to try and start something with them before.”
“The Qunari mage was very risky,” Aveline agreed. “And in opposition to all the Chantry's teachings.”
“Yes, that was troubling,” Fenris said. “But quite some time ago. Do you think she would do such a thing again?”
“Kidnapping ambassadors seems a bit out of the way of a Chantry Sister,” Aveline said. “Why would she even do it?”
“We have nowhere else to start as of yet,” Abigail pointed out. “There’s no reason we shouldn’t try every possibility.”
Aveline and Fenris glanced at each other, skeptical, but they both had to agree.
“I think I should ask some of my Guards, first,” Aveline said with a scowl. She did question the other Guards, and was informed about Orwald, a Guard who hadn't reported in since the Qunari had gone missing. They found him in the Hanged Man, boasting about money he'd earned merely for turning his head. As it turned out, a Chantry member had paid him, showing him a seal of the Grand Cleric. Aveline took the seal back and dismissed Orwald, who slunk out of the Hanged Man.
“The seal of the Grand Cleric?” Abigail asked, raising her eyebrows and turning the seal over in her hand.
“Where would he get such an item?” Fenris asked.
“Only from Chantry personnel,” Abigail said.
Aveline scowled. “He said it was from a Templar.”
Fenris raised his eyebrows. “And that does bode ill.”
“It really does,” Abigail said. “If the Templars are getting involved in this--”
“It may be one lone Templar,” Aveline suggested. “A rogue. There are a lot of people in this city who dislike the Qunari—a Templar wouldn’t be so unusual.”
“It matters little if this Templar is acting on his own or not,” Fenris said with a scowl. “It is a diplomatic incident in any case. Qunari consider all representatives of organizations to be representing their organization at all times, such as the Qunari do the Qun.”
“Then if they found out it was a Templar, they'd blame the Chantry,” Aveline said.
Fenris inclined his head. “They would.”
“Should we speak with the Grand Cleric or the Knight-Commander?” Abigail asked. “If it is a Templar--”
“He had the Grand Cleric's seal, we'll talk to the Grand Cleric,” Aveline said.
“That hasn’t exactly gone well for us in the past,” Abigail said with a grimace.
“This has precedent,” Aveline said, her expression dire. “If nothing else, perhaps we can head off a conflict with the Qunari.”
They went to the Chantry. An audience with the Grand Cleric could not be granted at that time, instead, it was Mother Petrice who came to see them.
“Is there some reason we are seeing you and not the Grand Cleric?” Abigail asked.
“The Grand Cleric cannot grant an audience to simply anyone,” Petrice said. “Particularly...troublemakers.”
Aveline scowled.
“Mother Petrice, a Qunari delegate and his entourage are missing.” Aveline said, folding her arms. “A Templar with the seal of the Grand Cleric is responsible. I have brought the legality of the Templars' actions to the grand Cleric time and again, and every time she has ignored them. She cannot ignore this.”
Petrice paused, choosing her words carefully. “No,” she said. “This need not be ignored. But it need not be brought to her attention, either.”
“What do you mean?”Aveline wanted to know.
Petrice sighed, and glanced to one side. “Perhaps I...may know something of this situation.”
“You knew about this?” Abigail asked, aghast.
“No,” Petrice snapped. “I did not. However, there is a Templar I know of who might perform such a thing—he is a radical, who detests the heathen Qunari. I might know where you could find him, provided you handle this quietly.” she narrowed her eyes and folded her hands within the sleeves of her habit.
“Why would you know where he is?” Fenris asked.
“Consider it a peace offering,” Petrice said.
“This is not a peace offering,” Aveline snapped. “If you know where he is, you know what he's done—you allowed this to happen.”
“I allowed nothing,” Petrice said. “Ser Varnell is radical, as I said—an unstable element. In any case, policing the Templars is not my responsibility, it is the Knight-Commander’s.”
“But you know what he is doing,” Fenris growled. “Do you have no comprehension of what this could do?”
“It could show the Qunari that the followers of the Maker do not want them here,” Petrice said.
“No,” Fenris shook his head. “It shows them that your Chantry is an enemy, an aggressor—and you should be aware of what they do to their enemies.”
“Then perhaps you wish to find Varnell, and prevent what you believe will happen,” Petrice said silkily.
“An excellent idea,” Abigail said. “Take us there, if you know where he is. He's your man, you can get him to stop.”
Petrice folded her arms. “I have nothing to do with this.”
“Yes, you do,” Aveline snapped. “And unless you wish me to force myself into the Grand Cleric's office, you'll take us to Varnell before this gets any worse.”
“Stubborn...” Petrice gritted. “Fine. But I am no fighter.”
“Hopefully, a fight will not be needed,” Aveline said. “Quickly, now.”
Petrice lead them out of the Chantry and through the streets in a winding and roundabout route, finally to come to a back alley in Darktown. A mob of people had gathered before a Templar, and behind him was a makeshift stage upon which the three Qunari delegates were bound.
Varnell was shouting something to the crowd about the Qunari being heretics and whatnot, but stopped when he saw Petrice.
“Take a knee, faithful,” he said. “The Chantry blesses us!”
“A blessing?” Abigail snapped before Petrice could say anything. “Do you have any idea what will happen if you so much as touch them?” she pointed to the delegates.
“The Qunari will not take this lightly,” Fenris said. “We would be lucky if they chose only to burn Kirkwall to the ground.”
“You speak their tongue,” Varnell snapped, pointing his sword at Fenris, who laid a hand on his own. “You, elf, have had much contact with them—who is to say you are not as polluted as they are?”
“I am as faithful to the Maker as any of you,” Fenris growled. “Not being a fanatic does not mean I am wrong.”
“It hardly matters the political implications,” Aveline said, stepping forward, the symbol of the Guard on her breastplate catching the light. “Because this is unbelievably illegal.”
“The laws of men hold no sway over the law of the Maker,” Varnell informed her. “As I'm sure you are well-aware of, Guard Captain.”
“Varnell, how could you have used the authority of the Grand Cleric so openly?” Petrice demanded. “This will reflect poorly on Her Grace, and your Commander as well.”
“What does that matter?” Varnell asked. “You of all people should know what is at stake here.”
“I do,” Petrice said. “But this is not the way to accomplish your goal.”
The negotiations devolved into violence, with Varnell cutting the throat of one of the Qunari and the mob attacking the other two. However, all it took was a show of force from Abigail, Fenris, and Aveline, and the mob was dispersed. Varnell fought, until Aveline brought him down with a hamstrung leg.
Petrice fled in the chaos, presumably to return to the Viscount. The three Qunari were all dead.
Aveline shook her head. “This will not end well,” she muttered.
“Curse you,” Varnell snarled. “The pollution of this city will be on your head!”
They ignored him. “Come on,” Abigail said. “We have to take this to the Viscount.”
“We cannot avoid telling the Arishok,” Fenris pointed out. “He will learn of it, and if not from us, he will be...displeased.”
“We can talk about it with the Viscount,” Abigail insisted. Fenris and Abigail stayed with Varnell, who ranted and raved about the heresy of the Qunari, until Aveline returned with Dumar in tow.
Dumar was aghast. He stared down at Varnell. “This Templar was involved?” he asked.
Abigail nodded. “Ser Varnell abused the power of the Grand Cleric. One of the Mothers knew about his extremist leanings but did not do anything about it.”
“Oh, this could not be worse,” Dumar pinched the bridge of his nose. “We'll need to bring this to the Grand Cleric's attention before anyone else.”
“What about him?” Abigail pointed to Varnell.
“We need to return him to Knight-Commander Meredith,” Dumar said. “The statutes are quite clear on Templars who have broken laws.”
“He may have instigated a war, Your Grace,” Aveline said, her voice quiet.
“After that business with the Wardens, we can hardly push the Chantry on legal terms, Guard-Captain,” Dumar said, closing his eyes. “He goes back to the Knight-Commander.”
They informed Meredith of Varnell’s crimes, and returned him to the Gallows. Meredith, to her credit, said he would remain in the dungeons and be removed from active duty.
“This business with the Qunari is not the affair of the Templars,” she said with a scowl aimed at Varnell. “This must stop before it goes too far.”
“I could not agree more, Knight-Commander,” Dumar said, sighing in relief.
The Grand Cleric was another matter. She refused to have anything to do with the incident.
“Grand Cleric, your cannot allow this to stand!” the Viscount exclaimed. “Templars incited a mob to kill the Qunari ambassadors—we're lucky the Qunari haven't declared war on us already!”
“The Arishok's group are separate from the larger Qunari,” Elthina said calmly. “They cannot declare war on us. In any case, the Templar was acting alone.”
“The Qunari will care very little,” Fenris said. “Especially considering that the Chantry, or operatives of it, have already antagonized them before. They consider the Chantry an enemy, as much heresy to them as they are to you.”
“And that hardly begins to cover the actions of Mother Petrice,” Aveline said. “She knew about Varnell's extremism, but did nothing to stop it.”
“If we cannot rely on your Templars, Grand Cleric--” Dumar said, but Elthina held up a hand.
“This is an isolated incident,” she said. “It will be dealt with, Excellency. You have my word.”
“You've never dealt with any of the Templars breaking laws before,” Abigail pointed out.
“Might I remind you, Lady Hawke, that your position here is somewhat precarious?” Elthina said. “I mean no offense, of course, but your family has only recently been reinstated. I would think it prudent to pay attention to your own affairs before trying to assist with the problems of others.”
“This problem affects the whole of the city, my family included,” Abigail said, trying to sound calm. “If the Qunari take offense--”
“The will of the Maker guides all of our actions,” Elthina interrupted her. “And it is the will of the Maker that we shall take care of this ourselves.”
“No,” Aveline snapped. “This has gone on too long! One of your Templars incited a riot and caused a diplomatic incident—Viscount, you cannot let this continue!”
Elthina looked at Dumar.
“Enough, Guard-Captain,” Dumar said with a sigh. “Grand Cleric, please take heed of our words.”
“I will, your Excellency.”
“Aveline, you need to call the Seekers,” Abigail said as soon as they were away from the Chantry.
“Tell me something I don't already know,” Aveline snapped.
“Are you so sure the Seekers are necessary?” Dumar asked, worry coloring his voice. “The Grand Cleric said she had it under control--”
“Do you really believe that, Excellency?” Aveline's tone was brittle. “Please—let me contact the Seekers. Then they will see if there is anything to be concerned about.”
“You say that Templars have broken laws before?”
“Many times. I have documentation and evidence to prove it.”
Dumar ran a hand over his head. “After we contacted the Divine herself in that business with the Wardens? I hardly think that this is appropriate.”
“Why don’t we ask Meredith?” Abigail suggested. “She didn’t approve of Varnell’s actions any more than we did.”
To their surprise, Meredith agreed with them when they questioned her about it.
“Call the Seekers if it pleases you,” Meredith said. “They can take Varnell and deal with him properly. That is their duty, after all.”
“And what of the actions of your Order?” Aveline asked.
“The Seekers will see what is right,” Meredith said. “We have done nothing wrong. However, this situation with Varnell must be resolved. The Seekers have the authority to deal with rogue Templars more effectively than any local Chantry.”
Abigail was suspicious. “You are sure?”
“I am quite sure, Lady Hawke.”
It took some weeks for the Seekers to get back to them, and they replied in the form of a brusque letter.
Aveline was appalled by what they had decided.
“They—the message informed us that the legality of actions made by Chantry personnel are not to be decided by any local Guard,” Aveline explained to Abigail, still shocked. “They are going to take Varnell, because he violated local law, but other than that, they aren’t taking any action.”
“But—if this happens again, it doesn't matter how far away Par Vollen is, they won't stand for another diplomatic incident!” Abigail exclaimed. “How many laws have the Templars already broken?”
“Apparently it doesn't matter unless the Templars or other Chantry personnel themselves report a law broken,” Aveline said, her voice utterly incredulous.
“How are they supposed to get any wrongdoing punished, then?” Abigail asked, furrowing her brow.
“They don't,” Aveline said. “I can't believe this—the Ferelden Chantry isn't like this, I'd swear to you--”
“Don't be so sure,” Abigail said. “Anyway...what do we do now?”
Aveline shook her head. “I don't know,” she said. “I simply do not know.”
The Grand Cleric summoned them, this time.
“Lady Hawke. Guard-Captain Vallen.” Elthina looked at them.
“Grand Cleric,” Aveline inclined her head. “To what do we owe the honor?”
“You contacted the Seekers of Truth.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“I believe I've made my feelings on the matter extremely clear,” Aveline said, her voice frosting over.
“Ah, yes—the supposed lawbreaking my Templars are committing.”
“And Petrice,” Abigail added quietly.
“The Knight-Commander herself recommended we contact the Seekers to remove Ser Varnell,” Aveline pointed out.
The Grand Cleric inclined her head. “This is something I agree with. However, I do not agree with you going about it without informing me, as well as accusing the Templar order as a whole of lawbreaking.”
“I informed you I could not let your inaction stand,” Aveline said, tone very stiff. “I did what I thought was best.”
“I am sure you did.” Elthina looked at Abigail, her eyes intense. “Lady Hawke. I understand your sister Bethany attends the Circle.”
Abigail sat up straighter. “Yes.”
“I recognize why you would be concerned for the Circle, but understand, please, my child, that if you continue to pry into the business of the Chantry, your sister may suffer for it,” she said, her tone as gentle as ever. “The Templars cannot all be watched. And they do not like their work being examined so closely.”
Abigail went dead white.
“Of course, Your Eminence,'” she said, inclining her head.
Abigail was quiet until they returned to her home. The moment they were both inside, she kicked the front door closed. “She threatened my sister!” she slammed a fist into the wall.
“I know,” Aveline raised her hands. “Abigail, please,”
Abigail kicked a chair. “She threatened Bethany!”
“Who did what to Bethany?”
Carver stood in the doorway, scowling, Leandra right behind him, pale and worried.
“The Grand Cleric made veiled threats,” Aveline explained. Leandra gasped and pressed a hand to her mouth.
“And why did she do that?” Carver gritted.
“Because we told that bitch about all the damn laws the Templars have been breaking!” Abigail snarled. “She found out that we'd written to the Seekers--”
“So it's your fault?” Carver stepped forward, hands balled into fists.
“How is it my fault?”
“You've been poking your nose in their business again!” Carver accused. “You know you need to stay out of it--”
“Not when laws are being broken, Carver,” Aveline said.
“Abigail isn't a Guard!” Carver snapped. “She doesn't have to get involved, but she did, and now it's your fault if Bethany gets hurt!” he jabbed a finger at Abigail.
“Maybe if you did a damn thing in your life other than whine and follow me around, Bethany wouldn't even be in the Gallows to begin with!” Abigail snarled.
“No,” Carver swiped a hand down. “No, you don't get to blame this on me! You're the one who went gallivanting off to the Deep Roads, you're the one getting the Templars all riled up--”
“I'm the one who makes sure you can eat!” Abigail snapped. “Because you damn well won't do it for yourself!”
"Stop it, both of you!" Leandra exclaimed, her eyes overbright. "What is the matter with you two, arguing when your sister could be--could be--" she covered her mouth with both hands again and her eyes overflowed.
“Enough!” Aveline raised her hands. “This won't help anyone!”
“Then what do we do?” Abigail demanded. “If the Seekers won't come--”
Aveline sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I'll see if Fenris and I can smooth things over with the Viscount,” she said. “Then...I don’t know. Perhaps Anders knows some way to get Bethany out of the Circle, or he can have someone protect her, or...” she sighed and closed her eyes.
“Or what?”
“I don’t know, Abigail,” Aveline said again. Leandra let out a sob, and Carver put a hand on her shoulder, glaring at Abigail.
Abigail snarled to herself. “Maybe I should bloody well try and get Bethany out myself--”
“Don’t,” Aveline put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll end up fighting all the Templars of the Gallows.”
“I don’t care.”
“Abigail, don’t,” Aveline said. “There’s still a way to resolve this in a legal matter. There has to be.”
Abigail’s hands shook. She nodded jerkily. “Fine,” she gritted. “Fine. But if this goes on much longer...” she trailed off.
“I know,” Aveline said, looking exhausted. “Just...don’t do anything you’ll regret. Either of you.” she gave Carver a hard look.
"We won't," Abigail said slowly, looking at Carver and still-crying Leandra. "I--we won't."