Grand Cleric Elthina declared the defeat of the Arishok a victory for the Chantry. As far as Abigail knew, Mother Petrice had died in the Qunari attack, the Qunari going after her immediately.
Several Qunari had attacked the Chantry, trying to kill Elthina herself, but a contingent of Templars had prevented them from getting too close.
Messages had been sent to Par Vollen, but they never responded, either to declare war or promote peace. It was a tense, unpleasant feeling, and one couldn't help but wonder if the Qunari were queuing up for an invasion.
Abigail, Carver and Bethany held a funeral for Leandra. Gamlen came, as well as Aveline, Merrill, Varric, Anders, Fenris, and Isabela.
They held a cremation in the back garden. The garden was overgrown--Leandra had always meant to start tending to it again, but had never done so. The weeds and grasses just made both Abigail and Carver feel even worse.
Abigail at least waited till after the ceremony was done to confront Isabela.
“Why are you here?” Abigail growled.
“She was a good woman,” Isabela said. “I should pay some respect, shouldn’t I?”
“This is your fault,” Abigail hissed.
Isabela said nothing, her lack of response infuriating Abigail even more.
“If you had never stolen that damned book, none of this would have happened!” Abigail shouted.
“And if that storm hadn’t waylaid me here, the Qunari would have bloody well settled somewhere else!” Isabela snapped.
“But they settled here!” Abigail snarled. “And that is your fault!”
“It isn’t my fault they stayed!”
“But it's your fault they're here!”
The others were staring, and Merrill looked between the two of them, worried. Isabela's chest heaved, and suddenly, she turned and bolted out the door.
“Isabela, wait!” Merrill cried, and before anyone could stop her, she chased after Isabela.
“Merrill!” Abigail called after her. Merrill ignored her, and caught up to Isabela, who was halfway down the street at this point.
“Isabela...” Merrill caught Isabela’s arm. “Don’t leave. Please?”
“Oh, Kitten,” Isabela sighed and wrapped Merrill in a hug. “You’re too bloody good to a pirate like me,” she sighed.
“She shouldn’t blame you,” Merrill said. “She should blame the Qunari. And so should you.”
“I do blame them,” Isabela said. “But it’s my fault, too.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Isabela sighed and pulled away, patting Merrill’s cheek. “You look after Abigail, will you?” she said. “I’d tell you to look after Fenris and Aveline, too, but they can look after themselves.”
“What do you mean?” Merrill said. “You say that like you’re going somewhere.” Isabela didn’t say anything. “You aren’t, are you?”
“Kitten...”
“Are you?”
“I can’t stay here,” Isabela said, and her voice broke. “I’m sorry. I can’t...”
“Isabela...”
Isabela turned on her heel and walked away. Merrill didn’t follow.
After some time, she returned to the house. The others were milling about in the entrance hall, but Abigail was nowhere to be found.
"Where is Abigail?" Merrill asked.
"Upstairs," Bethany murmured.
Merrill patted Bethany on the shoulder, then raced upstairs to Abigail's bedroom. Her door was unlocked, and Merrill pushed it open. Abigail stood facing the window, and didn't look up when Merrill came in.
“Isabela’s leaving,” Merrill said.
“Good,” Abigail snapped.
“No, it isn’t good!”
“Why do you care so damned much about her?” Abigail raged, turning around and kicking the bed.
“Because she’s my friend, Abigail!”
Abigail froze and sat down very heavily on her bed. “I know,” she said. “I just...” she closed her eyes.
“Just what?” Abigail was silent, and Merrill sat down on the bed next to her. “Just what, Abigail?’
Abigail began to weep, great gulping sobs, and Merrill pulled her to her chest.
“Oh, no, shh,” Merrill soothed, running a hand through her hair. “Shh. Ir abelas, ma vhenan.”
“This isn’t fair,” Abigail wept, holding Merrill so tightly that it hurt. “After the Blight and the Deep Roads and everything--”
“I know, ma vhenan,” Merrill murmured.
“She never even got to see Bethany again.” Abigail said. “And Isabela...I just...isn’t she supposed to be my friend?”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Merrill said. “The Qunari aren’t something she could control. I don’t really think anybody can.”
“I know,” Abigail pressed her forehead to the crook of Merrill’s neck. “I just...”
“Oh, ma vhenan,” Merrill murmured. “It just hurts. I know.”
No one was in line for Viscount. With both Dumar and Seamus dead, there were many cousins and extended family that could claim the title, but no one did. Some nobles attempted to claim the position, but Meredith issued a moritorium on the position, claiming martial law, and there was no one who would contradict her. One woman tried, but within a week dropped the claim, and was last seen heading for the coast. After that, no one followed up.
Aveline contested the martial law, as did Abigail and several other nobility, but as there was no one in charge and no one qualified truly willing to fight Meredith on the position, there wasn't much to be done about it. Grand Cleric Elthina upheld Meredith's rule, despite the unrest it caused.
There was a very vocal number of people who thought Abigail should be arrested by the Templars, even executed as a maleficar, but there was also significant number of people who saw her killing of the Arishok as heroic, even if it was a mage who did it.
Despite Meredith protesting it, Abigail was given the title of Champion because of nobles who had been friends of Leandra’s. Perhaps they couldn’t regain control of the city, but they could at least do this for the person who had saved it.
Merrill was also in danger from the Templars, as she had done magic right in front of Meredith. However, Merrill was staying at Abigail’s now, and had brought the eluvian there, and the Templars weren’t going to storm the house of the Champion. Bethany still couldn’t be rescued from the Circle (Meredith made absolutely sure of that), but Merrill could still be safe.
Merrill desperately wanted to get out of the city, to try and visit Clan Sabrae, but the borders had been closed tightly and she hadn’t been able to. Aveline was trying to work around it, but with little success. Merrill hoped they wouldn't leave before she had a chance to show them the eluvian.
Speaking of the eluvian, it still worked just fine. Most everyone else thought the thing was wildly dangerous, but it didn't seem to be. It had a very strong feeling of magic about it, but other than that, it seemed perfectly safe.
Merrill mapped out a few other functional eluvians that hers was connected to. One opened into a ruin, one into a snowy cave, one into a cliff overlooking the ocean—there was very little consistency between them. She wasn’t positive where all of them were, and it was going to take some time before she would be able to mark their locations on a map.
Abigail had tried going through the eluvian again, but any time she did, she felt absolutely terrible, as did any other human that went through them. Humans were immediately fine after leaving an eluvian, which meant that something inside the eluvian network was affecting them.
“I don't understand it,” Merrill admitted. “Why would humans have such a hard time with them?”
They had larger problems than the eluvian, however.
Meredith's appointment as effective ruler of the city was causing a great deal of tension. According to Abigail's noble contacts, other cities were starting to grow concerned, and even Val Royeaux wasn't backing it.
By all rights, that should have meant that the Chantry should have dismissed Meredith's authority, but for some reason that wasn't happening.
Apparently relations with Orzammar had suffered as well, with loud arguments between the Orzammar ambassador and Meredith frequent. This was a problem, considering that tempers were so bad between Meredith and Orsino that they had taken to screaming at each other in the street on at least one occasion.
Aveline couldn't do much. The Grand Cleric had quite firmly established that the Guard held no authority over the Templars, and no Chantry member thought the Templars of Kirkwall were doing the slightest thing wrong.
“It's infuriating,” Aveline said one night, while the group was gathered in the Hanged Man.
“Now you know how I feel,” Anders told her loftily.
Aveline rolled her eyes. “It isn't the same thing,” she told him. “Circle laws are laws—if they're following them, the Templars shouldn't pose much of a problem.”
Anders snorted. “Is that right? So I suppose it's legal for the Chantry to perform blood magic, but everyone else it's a sin?”
“The Chantry does not perform blood magic,” Fenris said, rolling his eyes.
“Phylacteries,” Anders sighed. “I know I've told you about them—those vials of blood that let them track lost mages?”
“Oh, yes, that's definitely blood magic,” Merrill said.
Aveline sighed and massaged her temples. “It doesn't matter,” she said. “The point is right now, the Chantry is in the wrong legally, and no one seems to mind!”
“Not even the Seekers?” Varric asked.
Aveline shook her head. “I swear to you, something is going on within the Chantry itself,” she said.
“The Grand Cleric threatened Bethany when we tried to get the Seekers to come and investigate, anyway,” Abigail grumbled. The others had heard about it before, but it still seemed shocking that the Grand Cleric would say such a thing.
“Well, I'm not exactly surprised,” Anders said, his expression baleful. “They threaten any mage in their prisons if an outside party does something they don't like, you know. Happens all the time.”
Fenris shook his head. He’d always thought of southern Templars as just and good, keeping mages safe from themselves and those around him, but the Kirkwall Chantry made him think more and more of Tevinter.
“I simply do not understand why they see fit to neglect their duty,” Fenris said. “What purpose does threatening mages in Circles provide?”
“Well, it’s a hostage situation, basically,” Anders said. “I have an idea that the Chantry actually loves it if a noble family has a mage. Lets them get a hold over the family, you see? It must make them annoyed that the Theirin family doesn’t have any mages in it, considering how much trouble the King gave them.”
Everyone rolled their eyes, but had to admit he probably had a point. Anders’ paranoia could be grating at times, but considering that his fellow Wardens had almost all been hunted down and arrested by the Seekers, he was most likely justified in it.
It was about three months after the Viscount's death, and the Orzammar embassy was celebrating something that they hadn’t seen fit to explain to anyone else. Whatever it was, it had the entire embassy awake and loud late into the night.
“Oh, Creators, what a racket!” Merrill said, peering out the window to try and get a glimpse of the embassy.
“What are they doing?” Abigail wondered, coming up behind Merrill to look as well.
“Something very good must have happened,” Merrill said. She hummed to herself, considering the possibilities. “Or very bad?”
“It’s most likely good, the way they're carrying on,” Abigail said. “Do you want to go see what it is?”
“Oh, yes!” Merrill said, her eyes lighting up. “Do you think Carver will want to come too? He might enjoy it.”
Carver had been distraught over Leandra’s death, as Abigail had, and was heartbroken that Bethany went back to the Circle. Abigail considered that.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think he’d appreciate us waking him up in the middle of the night.”
“I’ll go and ask him anyway,” Merrill decided. “He might really enjoy whatever it is!” Merrill didn’t approve of the tension between Abigail and Carver, and was constantly trying to get them to do things together.
Merrill woke Carver up, and to Abigail’s surprise, he decided to come to the embassy with them.
“I just want to know what’s making that racket,” he grumbled. “Took me ages to get to sleep.”
They went out and walked to the embassy. Several other nobles were out front, complaining about the noise to the dwarrowdam at the door.
Abigail, Merrill, and Carver went past the other nobles to ask what was going on.
“Queen Aeducan got married!” the dwarf explained, a broad grin on her face.
“So you're having a party for her?” Carver asked.
The dwarf nodded. She caught sight of Merrill, and her face lit up even more. “Oh—you'll be happy to hear this too!” she said.
“Oh yes?” Merrill asked. “Why me?”
“The Prince-Consort's an elf!” the dwarf said. She sighed dreamily. “He rescued the Queen from the Deep Roads during the Blight, and helped the Warden-Commander defeat the Archdemon. He's half-Dalish, too! That'll make the Dalish happy, won't it?”
“An elf?” another noble exclaimed, shocked. “Since when does a Queen marry an elf?”
The dwarf sniffed. “The Queen can marry whoever she feels like,” she said loftily. “If she wants to marry an elf, she can marry an elf, and shame on people who say she can't!”
“But why would she?” the noble demanded, propping his hands on his hips. “I mean, an elf, really...” he glared at Abigail in a significant way. Carver and Abigail both glared right back at him, and Abigail put an arm around Merrill.
“Something to say about my sister?” Carver growled.
The noble flushed. “I only...well...” he turned to the dwarf. “It’s not very proper, is it?” he snapped.
“The Queen loves him!” the dwarf said. “Isn't that romantic? She's marrying for love after he saved her from the darkspawn!”
“That is romantic,” Merrill agreed. “It's very sweet.”
“However romantic it is, could you please keep it down?” Another noble asked. She was wrapped in a woolen bathrobe and looked grumpy. “People are trying to sleep!”
“It's not every day the Queen gets married,” the dwarf said seriously. “Come on—you can celebrate too, if you want! Actually--” the dwarf looked at Merrill again. “Why don't you come in, salroka? Any Dalish is a friend of ours.”
“Really?” Merrill looked surprised, and glanced at Abigail. “Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said.
“Yes, really!” the dwarf nodded. “You should come in!”
“Oh—well, alright,” Merrill said with a smile. “Come on, Abigail! You too, Carver!”
“Merrill, I don't know--” but Merrill had already grabbed her hand and they were headed inside the embassy, Carver right on their heels.
The embassy was bright, loud, colorful and everyone looked like they were having a marvelous time. There was food and wine and a pair of dwarves seemed to be having a contest involving throwing axes. Several dwarves came up to Merrill immediately and struck up conversation, while Abigail and Carver were mostly left alone.
That is, Carver was left alone until a dwarrowdam in a low-cut brocade dress took an interest in him. Carver seemed very shocked by the attention, but not at all displeased. Eventually he and the dwarrowdam disappeared, and Abigail shook her head. She had no idea Carver was so fond of dwarves.
Merrill and the dwarves who had drawn her into conversation talked happily, Merrill asking them about the details of the Queen's marriage. Abigail listened, fascinated, as the dwarves explained.
According to them, Queen Aeducan had married an Antivan elf who had come to Orzammar with the Warden-Commander while she was trying to stop the Blight. The Queen had been betrayed by her brother, and had been accused of killing her other brother, and thrown into the Deep Roads.
“But the Prince-Consort knew Bhelen was a liar,” one of the dwarves said. “So he and the Warden-Commander went into the Deep Roads to rescue her!”
“Then they met and fell in love,” said another dwarf, a little younger than the first one. “She rescued him from a Broodmother.”
“A Broodmother?” Abigail asked.
The dwarf nodded. “The things that make more darkspawn,” she explained. “They're horrible.” all the dwarves nodded in agreement. “When Prince-Consort Arainai and the Warden-Commander were attacked by one, the Queen killed it!”
“And...then they got married?” Abigail asked.
“No,” the dwarf laughed. “The Prince-Consort helped defeat the Archdemon, of course! Then they got married.”
“After he fought with the Antivan Crows,” another dwarf pointed out. “See, the Prince-Consort used to be an assassin,” he explained. “But, since he turned out to be much more honorable than the Crows, they decided they had to kill him. So, he got them first.”
“I...see.” Abigail said, blinking. “And your Queen doesn't have any problem marrying an assassin?”
The dwarves all gave shocked exclamations.
“He's no assassin now!” a dwarrowdam in armor said. “And anyway, he's too honorable to be an assassin. What kind of assassin saves a Queen and then helps kill an Archdemon?”
“I...don't know,” Abigail admitted.
“Oh, that's so sweet!” Merrill said, delighted. “Did you say he was half-Dalish?”
“Oh, yes!” the armored dwarrowdam said. “I guess the Coalition thinks he's...a cousin, or something like it? His mother was Dalish, though he never knew what Clan she was from.”
Merrill nodded. “I suppose he'd be like a cousin,” she said. “That's good, isn't it? Does it help the alliance between the Dalish and Orzammar?”
“Yes,” the dwarrowdam nodded. “The Coalition wasn't sure to accept him as Dalish or not at first, but they decided that even if he didn't grow up in a Clan, since his mother was
Dalish, he was basically a relative.”
The party lasted well into the early hours of the morning, and eventually Abigail and Merrill stumbled home. Carver came back the next morning, looking disheveled but very pleased.
“I’d no idea you were so fond of dwarven ladies,” Abigail said with a smirk when she spotted him.
Carver shrugged. “And I hadn’t any idea that dwarven ladies were so fond of human men,” he said. “But it worked out.”