Morning Star, 3E390 - Blood sacrifice
"Who are these Grey Wardens, really?" Hawke asked Varric as they were walking ahead of their group. "Wolf uses blood magic... yet he is not a mage."
"I didn't have time to check their background," Varric shook his head. "Anders is from Ferelden, Wolf seems to know him, so he is probably also from Ferelden... Other than that, your guess is as good as mine."
"Ferelden, eh?" Hawke squinted. "Funny thing... I was at Ostagar, you know. Yeah, the big battle in which Loghain betrayed the King... I was with the King's troops, and when we realised that we had been left to be slaughtered, I bolted, and my brother with me. We ran to Lothering to pick up mother and sister... We were lucky they were still alive! And then we ran for our lives."
"Ran where?" Varric squinted. "Wasn't the whole area overrun by darkspawn?"
"That it was, that it was," Hawke nodded. "But they were all focusing on the battle at Ostagar, and we took advantage of those few hours to push East... The plan being to get to the nearest port and take a ship out."
"Well, you turned up in Kirkwall, so I assume it went well," Varric shrugged. "Why are you so interested in these Grey Wardens? They might have joined the Order after the Blight was defeated, you know."
"I think Anders might have done, but I'm not so sure about Wolf," Hawke shot a glance at them making sure they were still out of earshot. "He seems to know how things went during the Blight."
"So?"
"So..." Hawke paused looking over his shoulder. "I never told you this, but when we were running... We got surrounded by darkspawn on all sides. It was still much too far to the nearest port... It didn't look like we would make it. And then we were saved by Flemeth."
"Flemeth?!" Varric exclaimed a little too loudly. "The Witch of the Wilds? So she isn't a fairy tale?!"
"No she isn't, and keep your voice down," Hawke hushed him. "She's a dragon... She swooped down on us and cleared the darkspawn. What's more, she carried us to the port where we then got a ship... She mentioned that not all Grey Wardens would die in that battle... As if she knew what was coming..."
"But why would she do that?" Varric squinted. "Save you, I mean? That's not what she's famous for - saving people," he smirked.
"She gave me an amulet to deliver to a Dalish tribe somewhere near Kirkwall... Give it to the Keeper, she said, the Keeper would know what to do. I never delivered it."
"Hmm. That's weird," Varric shook his head. "What's in the amulet? Is it a locket?"
"Eh... I don't remember," Hawke admitted. "I thought it was just a trinket... didn't look special at all. It might have been a locket... Not sure."
"You didn't sell it, did you?"
"Nah, it's still somewhere among other junk... Why?"
"You should take it to the Dalish," Varric said firmly. "Not sure why, but you should."
"Well, may be, if we get out of here alive," Hawke shrugged. "Since I promised..." He paused. "She said something about the inevitable happening... I forget. That's not my point though. My point is that she spoke of several Grey Wardens surviving the massacre, and that was before the battle was over. I bet she went back there and saved a few. Which would mean that Wolf was one of them."
"Well..." Varric whistled. "There were just two of them left in the end... That was announced with the greatest fanfare... One of them was made Warden-Commander, too - they reinstated the Order in Ferelden. So... You think it could be Wolf? The Warden-Commander?" Varric threw a glance back.
"It was you who was going on about his armour... Is that a Commander's armour? I would not know," Hawke shrugged.
"It is very rare armour, that's for sure," Varric rubbed his chin. "Commander's armour would be bigger, heavier... more ceremonial. But he didn't come here for the ceremony, he came to fight. He might have left the other armour at home. There's no telling..."
"One of the two Grey Wardens was a Crown Prince," Hawke scratched the back of his head. "A bastard prince, from what I hear... He abdicated in favour of the late King's widow. Could it be Wolf? Or was that the other Warden?"
"Wolf is no Crown Prince, I know whom you mean," Varric smirked. "No... He is the Warden-Commander. Hmm. His reputation is... not straightforward. And I too saw him cutting his wrists... We should be careful, Hawke."
...
Grey Warden maps of the Deep Roads did not have the section they were in. They had to find a way out without maps, and in most cases they didn't have much choice as to where to go. With so many cave-ins everywhere, they were lucky to find a way forward at all. Yet Wolf made it a point to trace their movement on the map as best he could. "This would give us an idea where we are in relation to the places we do have on the map," he said when Hawke wondered why he was wasting his time marking up the map. "I fully intend to get out of here." He said it with such certainty that even Hawke started to believe it.
Without the sun rising and setting they could not tell how long they've been in the Deep Roads, but they made it a point to eat and sleep at regular intervals. They assumed that roughly corresponded to days. Fortunately there was no shortage of deepstalkers in the caves, so they did not have to eat darkspawn. They even found water - glowing mushrooms often grew near springs. What they did not find, however, was any more treasure, although red lyrium veins were everywhere, and that alone could set them up with money for life. They did not bother gathering any chippings though as they were heavy to carry around.
One evening they made camp in a cavern almost entirely covered in red lyrium. Crystals were everywhere, and although neither of them liked it very much, there didn't seem to be another place to camp. They cleared the area of darkspawn and settled down to sleep.
Wolf was the first to wake up. The place was quiet and his companions were still sleeping, but he'd been having nightmares and woke up. Anders was thrashing in his sleep - he must have been having nightmares too. Varric and Hawke didn't seem to be affected. Wolf woke up Anders but left the other two sleeping.
"Were you having a nightmare?" Wolf asked. "Darkspawn?"
"The Archdemon," Anders nodded. "He spoke to me again."
"There is no Archdemon, I killed him myself," Wolf shook his head. "But I dreamt of a dragon too. Why do you think it was the Archdemon?"
"Archdemon..?" Hawke woke up, shuddering. "What a nightmare!"
"You too?" Wolf looked up. "But you are not a Grey Warden!"
"What, you mean to say such dreams are normal?!" Hawke sat up.
"That depends what you dreamt about."
"The Archdemon!" Varric joined in. "I dreamt of the Archdemon! And here I thought he was dead!"
"He is dead, I assure you," Wolf said firmly. "But all four of us have dreamt of a dragon, and you two are no Grey Wardens. I don't like it."
"It wasn't just any dragon, it was the Archdemon!" Hawke insisted. "He spoke to me!"
"And what did he say?" Wolf squinted.
"That I should join him, of course... Join the darkspawn," Hawke shrugged.
"That's similar to the offer I got during the Joining," Anders pointed out. "The Archdemon was already dead when I joined," he added for Hawke and Varric. "But considering what happened right after that, I later assumed that it was the Architect who spoke to me..."
"The Architect is also dead though," Wolf rubbed his chin. "Perhaps there are more beings like him? That would explain our dreams... but I've never heard of anyone other than Grey Wardens having such nightmares."
"Could it be the taint? I mean, we aren't infected, are we?" Hawke looked at his companions. "That lizard meat that we've been eating... deepstalkers... they are not darkspawn, surely?"
"Deepstalkers are not darkspawn," Wolf shook his head. "We haven't been eating darkspawn... But there's always the risk of infection when there's so much blood. However..." He examined Hawke and Varric but so no sign of an infection. "You don't appear to be infected. So what's with the dreams?"
It was puzzling and they couldn't figure it out, so since everyone was already awake, they decided to keep moving. Red lyrium veins were everywhere, they seemed to be going towards the main trunk. Darkspawn was becoming more and more numerous, too.
"It seems we are approaching a broodmother," Wolf noted after yet another heavy battle. "We'll have to be clever about it - a broodmother will easily kill us if we are not careful."
"Oh wonderful," Varric swore. "I heard stories of a monster with tentacles... Where do they even come from?"
"They were all mortal women once," Wolf answered gravely. "Darkspawn do take prisoners - they capture women. Human, elf, dwarf, it doesn't matter - all can be turned into broodmothers. They feed them their own flesh, their kin's flesh and a lot of darkspawn flesh, and eventually the woman either dies or transforms into a broodmother."
"Their kin's flesh..?" Hawke shuddered. "That's assuming they travel with family..."
"Doesn't have to be such a close kin," Wolf shook his head. "Just needs to be the same race, is all. We are apparently all related..."
Their discussion was interrupted by more darkspawn barring their way. They were getting used to the battles. Then darkspawn stopped appearing, as if someone called them off. Suddenly empty tunnels and caves seemed even more menacing somehow. Yet they didn't have much choice but to proceed.
"Come to me, it's just up ahead," Wolf heard someone call and exquisitely beautiful music started playing in the background. It seemed to come from a large cavern further on. He froze.
"The music," he said quietly to Anders.
"And the call," Anders nodded. "Here? But how can it be?"
"Have we crossed the Veil somewhere?" Wolf shot him a worried glance. "Without realising it..."
"Why have you two stopped?" Varric and Hawke were up ahead, but they turned back noticing that their companions didn't follow.
"You don't hear it?" Wolf looked up.
"Hear what?"
"If this is the Fade, they are not who they seem to be," Anders pointed out. "Nothing is what it seems in the Fade..."
"This isn't the Fade because I'm a dwarf and dwarves have no magic," Varric objected.
"You don't have to have magic yourself to be pulled into the Fade, you just need to have a soul..." Anders was looking around him trying to figure out whether it was the Fade or not. He came up to the wall and touched it - it seemed quite real. But then, it would seem real if it was the Fade...
"We should keep walking," Wolf decided. "One way or the other... There's no point staying here. Besides, that music is more beautiful than anything I could imagine..." He resumed walking, completely ignoring his companions. After a few moments, Anders did the same.
"Is this some sort of Warden thing, you think?" Hawke turned to Varric as they watched the two Grey Wardens walk in silence. "I don't hear any music..."
"They say that Wardens start hearing voices when the taint in their blood becomes overpowering," Varric rubbed his chin. "But that takes some fifty years to develop. These two haven't been Wardens long enough to suffer such effects..."
"Ah, there you are," a dragon spread its wings in a large cavern up ahead. "Finally. I've been waiting for you, Wardens."
Wolf and Anders stopped, looking at the dragon. It didn't attack, instead it spoke to them with a beautiful, melodious voice and soft, gentle music was playing in the background.
"Finally you came to join us. Come - we have much to do."
The dragon took a step to the side revealing a chamber with guilded walls, tables laden with food, fire in the grate... Several knights in rare silverite armour sat around the table, smiling. Duncan was among them.
"Duncan is dead, this is the Fade and a trap!" Wolf turned to Anders. It was urgent, they had to run, escape... But the words that he heard himself say were quite different: "Duncan, good to see you! So, you escaped Ostagar as well?" His legs carried him to the table and he sat down, with Anders following.
...
Hawke and Varric followed the Wardens into a large chamber with a monstrous broodmother in the middle. They watched in horror how Wolf and Anders approached her not even trying to fight. She twisted her tentacles around them, squeezing them and crushing their bones until they burst. Blood ran from them and gathered in pools on the floor. When no more blood was coming, the broodmother tossed their lifeless husks onto a large heap of similarly squeezed out bodies. She then sucked up the blood through her tentacles like through straws.
Hawke and Varric were next. They saw tentacles rise from the ground all around them, caging them in. There was no where to run.
Full Version: I am Lena Wolf
Sun's Dawn, 3E390 - The stone
"Dwarves say that the Stone speaks to them," Varric was trying to decide whether the loaf of bread before him was worth eating. "I always thought it was just figurative. But here the stone does speak..."
"I still think it can't be the stone," Hawke shook his head. "And yet, here we are. How long have we been here? There's no telling... but I think weeks."
"That's about right," Varric agreed, deciding to take a bite from the loaf. "This is bread... Old but ordinary. They aren't feeding us darkspawn flesh... I wonder why not."
"And so for the better!" Hawke exclaimed, taking a bite from the loaf as well. "I have no wish to join the Wardens..."
"That's not how you join the Wardens," Varric objected. "Their Joining ritual is quite different... if also similar in some ways... But no, you would just get infected and turn into darkspawn, no more."
"So... they want us alive," Hawke concluded. "I wonder why... And how is it that Wolf and Anders are still alive too, after what the broodmother did to them..."
"There was no broodmother, haven't you figured it out yet?" Varric smirked. "It was all an illusion. What wouldn't I give to know what the Wardens saw..."
"Why? What do you care?"
"It gives me an idea for a book..."
...
It's been three to four weeks since our party walked into that trap with the broodmother. There was no broodmother, Varric was right. The whole thing was an illusion designed to break their spirit. They woke up in a dungeon, they were separated, with Wolf and Anders sharing a cell and Varric and Hawke sharing another. The cells had no walls between them but only bars, so all prisoners could see and talk to each other in that vast hall... if they weren't knocked out. The majority of them however were prostrate on the floor or propped up against the walls, staring into nothingness. Darkspawn guards paced the corridors from time to time bringing food to those prisoners who were able to eat, and removing something from all prisoners on a regular basis.
"Here they come again," Hawke saw another patrol approaching. "Are we getting water this time, I wonder?"
The guards were mute, or perhaps they chose not to speak. They sat a jug of water in the cell and searched the floor for something. Then they shook their heads and left without a word.
"Whatever is going through their heads?" Varric watched the guards for a bit, then watched some of the other prisoners, Wolf and Anders among them. "Just sitting there, motionless... Like they are sleeping."
"They probably are," Hawke nodded. "Did you notice... The guards never find anything in our cell, but they seem happy with what they find in some of the others... I wonder what it is."
"Red lyrium," Varric said softly. "Just watch them... There are red lyrium crystals growing in some of the cells. But not in ours."
...
"So, you've finally found your way home," Duncan raised a toast when Wolf and Anders sat down at the table with the other knights. "Welcome! You are now true Grey Wardens."
"True Grey Wardens?" Wolf looked at the knights at the table, but they were all wearing closed helmets and he couldn't tell who they were. "You mean, we were not true Grey Wardens before?"
"No, that was like... what should I call it... err... probation, perhaps?" Duncan searched for words. "A test of sorts... to see the strength of your resolve. But you made it here, so you passed that test."
"Which part of it was the test?" Wolf squinted. "The part where I killed the Archdemon? Or the Architect?"
"And how come I passed the test as well?" Anders joined him in his doubts. "I didn't do any of those things..."
"Well, it isn't as simple as any single deed," Duncan frowned. "It's how you behaved throughout... everything matters, my friends."
"Alright," Wolf nodded and took a sip from his goblet. The wine was excellent. "So, what's next?"
"Next... Why, should there be something next?" Duncan frowned again. "You are here, at the Head Quarters Fortress, you have food and drink, both of excellent quality, you are in a company of other true Grey Wardens - isn't it like your Sovngarde? Why should there be anything more?"
"So then, I am dead," Wolf nodded.
"What's Sovngarde?" Anders turned to him. "This makes no sense to me, and I don't think I'm dead."
"Ungrateful child!" Duncan cried out, looking angrily at Anders. "All that I've done for you, and here you are, complaining!"
"All that you've done for me?" Anders raised an eyebrow. "Now I know I am not dead! Begone, spirit! I understand you look like Duncan because Wolf recognised you, but I never met Duncan! I joined well after his death! Duncan did nothing for me!"
He jumped up, his staff at the ready.
"Foolish child!" Duncan cried out again but remained seated. "He is your charge, tell him to behave!" He spoke to Wolf.
"My charge?" Wolf looked up in surprise. "I helped him, yes, but Anders is not my charge... and neither is he a child any longer..."
"There! You tell him, Wolf!" Anders still had his staff charged and ready to cast, but neither Duncan nor any of the knights at the table showed any hostility.
"He is your charge the same as you are mine, will always be," Duncan replied, calming down again. "You made him a Grey Warden. It was your blood that tainted his. You cannot walk away from that, Wolf."
Wolf hesitated. Duncan's words sounded true, but at the same time something was off... If this was the Grey Wardens version of Sovngarde, then he was dead. And if he was dead, he should have gone to the real Sovngarde, he was certain. Unless it was one and the same... they did say that Sovngarde appeared different to different people. Perhaps the taint in his blood meant that his Sovngarde would always be filled with Grey Wardens...
"We are not dead," Anders said in his ear. "This is the Fade. We have to get out of here."
"Get out of here and go where?" Duncan interjected. "Stubborn child!"
"Stop calling me a child!" Anders exclaimed defiantly, but the doubt was already seeded in his mind. Had he really grown up? He tried to be more responsible since he joined the Wardens, tried not to get himself into unnecessary trouble... But then of course he got possessed by Justice, and that was hardly a smart thing to do... Perhaps he was a child still, and Duncan was right...
"Well, if this is where we should be, then you won't mind if we looked around, will you?" Wolf smiled and got up. "This place is fascinating... I've never been to the Head Quarters. Say... what's down that hall?"
"That... err... just offices that way!" Duncan tried to stop him. "Come back to the table, that's where you should be..."
But Wolf was already walking into a misty corridor, with Anders following.
"I am your charge, he's right, you know," Anders said after a while. A misty corridor stretched before them, there was nothing to see, yet Wolf kept walking, and Anders kept following. "I am a charge that slows you down. I am still that immature youngster that does everything wrong and constantly gets himself into a tremendous mess... You should leave me here. The Fade might show you a way out if you walk alone."
Wolf stopped and turned to Anders.
"You are not my charge, you are my friend," he said firmly. "You got yourself in trouble, true... But so did I. It was my blood that tainted yours."
"Without it I would have been made tranquil," Anders pointed out. "I am not complaining. But I allowed Justice to possess me... I might not have made it clear... I allowed him to 'move in', as it were, for more than a fleeting possession. I never stopped to think what consequences it would have, for myself or for people around me. He is now permanently merged with me, Wolf. I dreaded to say so... but you should know. This is why the Fade does not let me leave."
"This is bad news, Anders," Wolf sighed. "But... what about the ritual that you were suggesting? To send Justice back into the Fade? How was that supposed to work?"
"Justice would leave, yes, but only partly," Anders looked away. "This already occurred. He is gone, but not completely. I shall always remain a gateway for him to return into the mortal plane at the moment of his choosing. Which is why you should leave me behind."
"You wish to die?" Wolf remembered Niall whose spirit he met in the Fade held by a Sloth Demon. Niall died quickly because the Sloth was feeding on his soul. Was there a demon here ready to feed on Anders' soul as well?
"I do not wish to die, but I see no other way out," Anders sighed. "The Fade will not let me out, and if you stay with me, you will die too."
"I do not like this," Wolf frowned and resumed walking. Anders hesitated, but then followed.
...
"Red lyrium does not grow on the floor, it grows on the prisoners' bodies," Hawke peered through the bars. "Look at that mage, for example: she is covered in it!" He pointed at a prisoner a few cells away from them. She was propped up against the wall like most others. Red lyrium crystals were visible on her arms and neck, they cut through her robe, forming a ridge.
"Good grief!" Varric looked at her in horror. "Is she still alive? She's prostrate like the others..."
"Red lyrium is feeding on her soul," someone replied from the other end of the hall. "This is what will happen to all of us."
"What?!" Varric turned to the person who spoke. "Like a demon?!"
"Indeed," the person confirmed. He got up from the floor and stood facing them - he was a mage too. "Some theorise that red lyrium is alive... I'm not so sure about that, myself. But seeing how all prisoners here are mages..."
"We are not mages though," Hawke shook his head.
"Then I don't know why darkspawn didn't kill you," the mage was looking at them with interest. "And you're not knocked out..."
"Why are you not knocked out?" Varric squinted.
"Oh, I will be, give it time," the mage smiled weakly. "They stopped bringing me food a while back already... I suppose I'm just stronger than I look... Or rather, I was when I got here..."
"So, what do they want with us?" Hawke and Varric exchanged glances. "We should get out of here. Whatever it is, it can't be good."
"Get out of here?!" The mage laughed. "I tried to get out of here, it's quite impossible, I assure you! Do you even know where we are?"
"Somewhere in the Deep Roads, I presume," Varric shrugged. "That's where we were taken."
"The Deep Roads?" The mage looked surprised. "That would make sense... There are entrances everywhere... Hmm... Yes, well, maybe then..." He turned away from them, he seemed to be consulting a book or a scroll. A few minutes later he spoke again. "I can help you get out but you must take me with you," he said firmly. "I never considered the Deep Roads. If only we had a map... We could find a way out."
"Wolf has a map," Hawke said quietly to Varric. "But he's knocked out, the same as Anders."
"It doesn't look good for them, I'll admit," Varric looked closely. "Is that..? Can you see it, there, on their wrists? Something red?"
"That's blood, I think," Hawke peered at them as well. "It does not look like crystals... yet..."
...
"I should have never touched blood magic," Anders was saying to Wolf as they were walking aimlessly through a foggy corridor in the Fade. "It's forbidden for a reason. I see it now."
"Was the First Enchanter not delaying your graduation even before you started studying it?" Wolf tried to remember what he read in the First Enchanter's papers. "Isn't it why..?"
"Yes, yes, that's why I turned to it," Anders answered impatiently. "I was having trouble with the Fade... err... I felt ill prepared and powerless whenever I found myself in the Fade when I slept. I am not sure if any of the spirits I met were demons... But I felt threatened anyway."
"I read a letter from a mage who was made tranquil on his own request," Wolf remembered one document. "He was so frightened of spirits and demons that he was ready to kill himself. Then someone said he could be rid of all of that if he was made tranquil... and he embraced the idea."
"I know whom you mean," Anders nodded. "He spoke of it, and there were others like him, too... But I didn't want to lose myself... So I thought if I were just better prepared, I'd pass the exam..."
"And blood magic held the promise of power," Wolf smirked.
"Yes. But I didn't think of the consequences..." Anders sighed. "It condemned me to the very fate I was trying to avoid."
"Well, there's no point lamenting it now," Wolf shrugged. "We should look for a way out."
They walked in silence for a while, each thinking their own thoughts, until Wolf suddenly realised that he could no longer hear Anders' footsteps behind him. He spun around, but could see nothing but fog. Anders wasn't following.
"Dwarves say that the Stone speaks to them," Varric was trying to decide whether the loaf of bread before him was worth eating. "I always thought it was just figurative. But here the stone does speak..."
"I still think it can't be the stone," Hawke shook his head. "And yet, here we are. How long have we been here? There's no telling... but I think weeks."
"That's about right," Varric agreed, deciding to take a bite from the loaf. "This is bread... Old but ordinary. They aren't feeding us darkspawn flesh... I wonder why not."
"And so for the better!" Hawke exclaimed, taking a bite from the loaf as well. "I have no wish to join the Wardens..."
"That's not how you join the Wardens," Varric objected. "Their Joining ritual is quite different... if also similar in some ways... But no, you would just get infected and turn into darkspawn, no more."
"So... they want us alive," Hawke concluded. "I wonder why... And how is it that Wolf and Anders are still alive too, after what the broodmother did to them..."
"There was no broodmother, haven't you figured it out yet?" Varric smirked. "It was all an illusion. What wouldn't I give to know what the Wardens saw..."
"Why? What do you care?"
"It gives me an idea for a book..."
...
It's been three to four weeks since our party walked into that trap with the broodmother. There was no broodmother, Varric was right. The whole thing was an illusion designed to break their spirit. They woke up in a dungeon, they were separated, with Wolf and Anders sharing a cell and Varric and Hawke sharing another. The cells had no walls between them but only bars, so all prisoners could see and talk to each other in that vast hall... if they weren't knocked out. The majority of them however were prostrate on the floor or propped up against the walls, staring into nothingness. Darkspawn guards paced the corridors from time to time bringing food to those prisoners who were able to eat, and removing something from all prisoners on a regular basis.
"Here they come again," Hawke saw another patrol approaching. "Are we getting water this time, I wonder?"
The guards were mute, or perhaps they chose not to speak. They sat a jug of water in the cell and searched the floor for something. Then they shook their heads and left without a word.
"Whatever is going through their heads?" Varric watched the guards for a bit, then watched some of the other prisoners, Wolf and Anders among them. "Just sitting there, motionless... Like they are sleeping."
"They probably are," Hawke nodded. "Did you notice... The guards never find anything in our cell, but they seem happy with what they find in some of the others... I wonder what it is."
"Red lyrium," Varric said softly. "Just watch them... There are red lyrium crystals growing in some of the cells. But not in ours."
...
"So, you've finally found your way home," Duncan raised a toast when Wolf and Anders sat down at the table with the other knights. "Welcome! You are now true Grey Wardens."
"True Grey Wardens?" Wolf looked at the knights at the table, but they were all wearing closed helmets and he couldn't tell who they were. "You mean, we were not true Grey Wardens before?"
"No, that was like... what should I call it... err... probation, perhaps?" Duncan searched for words. "A test of sorts... to see the strength of your resolve. But you made it here, so you passed that test."
"Which part of it was the test?" Wolf squinted. "The part where I killed the Archdemon? Or the Architect?"
"And how come I passed the test as well?" Anders joined him in his doubts. "I didn't do any of those things..."
"Well, it isn't as simple as any single deed," Duncan frowned. "It's how you behaved throughout... everything matters, my friends."
"Alright," Wolf nodded and took a sip from his goblet. The wine was excellent. "So, what's next?"
"Next... Why, should there be something next?" Duncan frowned again. "You are here, at the Head Quarters Fortress, you have food and drink, both of excellent quality, you are in a company of other true Grey Wardens - isn't it like your Sovngarde? Why should there be anything more?"
"So then, I am dead," Wolf nodded.
"What's Sovngarde?" Anders turned to him. "This makes no sense to me, and I don't think I'm dead."
"Ungrateful child!" Duncan cried out, looking angrily at Anders. "All that I've done for you, and here you are, complaining!"
"All that you've done for me?" Anders raised an eyebrow. "Now I know I am not dead! Begone, spirit! I understand you look like Duncan because Wolf recognised you, but I never met Duncan! I joined well after his death! Duncan did nothing for me!"
He jumped up, his staff at the ready.
"Foolish child!" Duncan cried out again but remained seated. "He is your charge, tell him to behave!" He spoke to Wolf.
"My charge?" Wolf looked up in surprise. "I helped him, yes, but Anders is not my charge... and neither is he a child any longer..."
"There! You tell him, Wolf!" Anders still had his staff charged and ready to cast, but neither Duncan nor any of the knights at the table showed any hostility.
"He is your charge the same as you are mine, will always be," Duncan replied, calming down again. "You made him a Grey Warden. It was your blood that tainted his. You cannot walk away from that, Wolf."
Wolf hesitated. Duncan's words sounded true, but at the same time something was off... If this was the Grey Wardens version of Sovngarde, then he was dead. And if he was dead, he should have gone to the real Sovngarde, he was certain. Unless it was one and the same... they did say that Sovngarde appeared different to different people. Perhaps the taint in his blood meant that his Sovngarde would always be filled with Grey Wardens...
"We are not dead," Anders said in his ear. "This is the Fade. We have to get out of here."
"Get out of here and go where?" Duncan interjected. "Stubborn child!"
"Stop calling me a child!" Anders exclaimed defiantly, but the doubt was already seeded in his mind. Had he really grown up? He tried to be more responsible since he joined the Wardens, tried not to get himself into unnecessary trouble... But then of course he got possessed by Justice, and that was hardly a smart thing to do... Perhaps he was a child still, and Duncan was right...
"Well, if this is where we should be, then you won't mind if we looked around, will you?" Wolf smiled and got up. "This place is fascinating... I've never been to the Head Quarters. Say... what's down that hall?"
"That... err... just offices that way!" Duncan tried to stop him. "Come back to the table, that's where you should be..."
But Wolf was already walking into a misty corridor, with Anders following.
"I am your charge, he's right, you know," Anders said after a while. A misty corridor stretched before them, there was nothing to see, yet Wolf kept walking, and Anders kept following. "I am a charge that slows you down. I am still that immature youngster that does everything wrong and constantly gets himself into a tremendous mess... You should leave me here. The Fade might show you a way out if you walk alone."
Wolf stopped and turned to Anders.
"You are not my charge, you are my friend," he said firmly. "You got yourself in trouble, true... But so did I. It was my blood that tainted yours."
"Without it I would have been made tranquil," Anders pointed out. "I am not complaining. But I allowed Justice to possess me... I might not have made it clear... I allowed him to 'move in', as it were, for more than a fleeting possession. I never stopped to think what consequences it would have, for myself or for people around me. He is now permanently merged with me, Wolf. I dreaded to say so... but you should know. This is why the Fade does not let me leave."
"This is bad news, Anders," Wolf sighed. "But... what about the ritual that you were suggesting? To send Justice back into the Fade? How was that supposed to work?"
"Justice would leave, yes, but only partly," Anders looked away. "This already occurred. He is gone, but not completely. I shall always remain a gateway for him to return into the mortal plane at the moment of his choosing. Which is why you should leave me behind."
"You wish to die?" Wolf remembered Niall whose spirit he met in the Fade held by a Sloth Demon. Niall died quickly because the Sloth was feeding on his soul. Was there a demon here ready to feed on Anders' soul as well?
"I do not wish to die, but I see no other way out," Anders sighed. "The Fade will not let me out, and if you stay with me, you will die too."
"I do not like this," Wolf frowned and resumed walking. Anders hesitated, but then followed.
...
"Red lyrium does not grow on the floor, it grows on the prisoners' bodies," Hawke peered through the bars. "Look at that mage, for example: she is covered in it!" He pointed at a prisoner a few cells away from them. She was propped up against the wall like most others. Red lyrium crystals were visible on her arms and neck, they cut through her robe, forming a ridge.
"Good grief!" Varric looked at her in horror. "Is she still alive? She's prostrate like the others..."
"Red lyrium is feeding on her soul," someone replied from the other end of the hall. "This is what will happen to all of us."
"What?!" Varric turned to the person who spoke. "Like a demon?!"
"Indeed," the person confirmed. He got up from the floor and stood facing them - he was a mage too. "Some theorise that red lyrium is alive... I'm not so sure about that, myself. But seeing how all prisoners here are mages..."
"We are not mages though," Hawke shook his head.
"Then I don't know why darkspawn didn't kill you," the mage was looking at them with interest. "And you're not knocked out..."
"Why are you not knocked out?" Varric squinted.
"Oh, I will be, give it time," the mage smiled weakly. "They stopped bringing me food a while back already... I suppose I'm just stronger than I look... Or rather, I was when I got here..."
"So, what do they want with us?" Hawke and Varric exchanged glances. "We should get out of here. Whatever it is, it can't be good."
"Get out of here?!" The mage laughed. "I tried to get out of here, it's quite impossible, I assure you! Do you even know where we are?"
"Somewhere in the Deep Roads, I presume," Varric shrugged. "That's where we were taken."
"The Deep Roads?" The mage looked surprised. "That would make sense... There are entrances everywhere... Hmm... Yes, well, maybe then..." He turned away from them, he seemed to be consulting a book or a scroll. A few minutes later he spoke again. "I can help you get out but you must take me with you," he said firmly. "I never considered the Deep Roads. If only we had a map... We could find a way out."
"Wolf has a map," Hawke said quietly to Varric. "But he's knocked out, the same as Anders."
"It doesn't look good for them, I'll admit," Varric looked closely. "Is that..? Can you see it, there, on their wrists? Something red?"
"That's blood, I think," Hawke peered at them as well. "It does not look like crystals... yet..."
...
"I should have never touched blood magic," Anders was saying to Wolf as they were walking aimlessly through a foggy corridor in the Fade. "It's forbidden for a reason. I see it now."
"Was the First Enchanter not delaying your graduation even before you started studying it?" Wolf tried to remember what he read in the First Enchanter's papers. "Isn't it why..?"
"Yes, yes, that's why I turned to it," Anders answered impatiently. "I was having trouble with the Fade... err... I felt ill prepared and powerless whenever I found myself in the Fade when I slept. I am not sure if any of the spirits I met were demons... But I felt threatened anyway."
"I read a letter from a mage who was made tranquil on his own request," Wolf remembered one document. "He was so frightened of spirits and demons that he was ready to kill himself. Then someone said he could be rid of all of that if he was made tranquil... and he embraced the idea."
"I know whom you mean," Anders nodded. "He spoke of it, and there were others like him, too... But I didn't want to lose myself... So I thought if I were just better prepared, I'd pass the exam..."
"And blood magic held the promise of power," Wolf smirked.
"Yes. But I didn't think of the consequences..." Anders sighed. "It condemned me to the very fate I was trying to avoid."
"Well, there's no point lamenting it now," Wolf shrugged. "We should look for a way out."
They walked in silence for a while, each thinking their own thoughts, until Wolf suddenly realised that he could no longer hear Anders' footsteps behind him. He spun around, but could see nothing but fog. Anders wasn't following.
Sun's Dawn, 3E390 - Imprisoned
"I can't quite reach," Hawke sighed. He tried to get to Wolf through the bars between their cells but his shoulder wouldn't go through and Wolf sat too far away. "He's got a map of the Deep Roads, it's somewhere in his bag or his pocket... but I can't reach him from here."
"How did you manage to unlock the door?" Varric called out to the mage at the other end of the prison hall who was offering to help them escape. "Since you claim to have tried a few times, you must have gotten out of your cell somehow..."
"My cell isn't locked," the mage looked up in surprise, then opened and shut the door of his cell to demonstrate. "I got out of this hall, that was easy... but where to go from there? The passage just leads to more halls like this one."
"Hmm... So how were you going to help us?" Varric squinted.
"I've seen exits... Tunnels and caves beyond. I just assumed it was some unknown mine... I can lead you to one of the exits, we'll follow the tunnels until we come to a highway in the Deep Roads... Then we'll find a way out using your map!" The mage sounded excited.
"Our door isn't locked either," Hawke realised to his surprise. He stepped out and tried the door of Wolf and Anders' cell. "As easy as that," he grinned, entering. "Now, where did he have that map..?"
...
Wolf stood alone in a foggy corridor in the Fade. He tried running back in the hope to catch up with Anders who stopped following, but the corridor was empty in either direction. Fade had no dimensions, as soon as something vanished from view, it was gone.
"May be not gone completely," Wolf remembered the time when he was stuck in the pocket of Fade that belonged to a Sloth Demon. "The Sloth's pocket had islands, portals and doors, it was well organised and stable... But it was so because the Sloth created it that way. I wonder if there is a demon here as well? Or may be the space between pockets is organised somehow? How do you even..?"
"How do you find your way in the Fade?" He heard someone talking behind him. "You don't!" A mage stood there, smiling. Something about him was familiar. "We've met before, do you remember me? I... was in a closet... during the rebellion in the Tower... I could not face the demons..."
"Ah, hello!" Wolf smiled, recognising him. "It wasn't a bad strategy, you know. You survived."
"Did I?" The mage looked around. "This doesn't look like the Tower. Where are we?"
"Oh dear."
"It's your Fade, is it not?" The mage looked at the walls and pillars with interest. "Looks dwarven. I've never seen such a long corridor before... Where are we going?"
"We?" Wolf was surprised. "How long have you been in the Fade?"
"How long? That's a strange question," the mage smirked. "Time has no meaning here... But I never left the closet, if that helps. It just never seemed safe enough... I think I fell asleep in there when the noises subsided..."
"I am sorry to hear that," Wolf sighed. "It's been years and years. I'm afraid you're dead."
"Really? Well, that would explain things, yes..." The mage didn't seem upset. "I supposed they've buried my body... or burned it... either way, I am but a spirit now."
"You sound like you like it here," once again Wolf felt that something was off.
"What's there not to like?" The mage smiled. "I know no pain or fear, there's no hunger, fatigue or disease... There isn't much to do here, granted, but I'll take safety over excitement any day!"
"Umm... I see," Wolf gave him a long look. "Then... why are you here, talking to me?"
"Why not?" The mage shrugged. "I am here, and you are here, and we are talking... What else is there to do?"
...
"Hurry up, I see a patrol approaching!" Varric whispered urgently to Hawke. "The doors may not be locked, but I bet they won't like to find you in the wrong cell!"
"I can't find his map!" Hawke hissed back. "Where could it be?"
"Leave it and come back before the guards get here!" Varric dared not shout, even though he wanted to. "We'll try again later!"
Hawke left Wolf alone and slipped back into their own cell. The patrol walked past them without looking. They were not getting any food or water that day.
"They started starving you too, I see," the mage from the other end of the hall was watching the patrol. "Time to get out. We need that map!"
...
"That's enough, I am getting out," Wolf said decisively and the mage from the closet shirked away from him. "If I am not dead, then I must be dreaming. And if I am dreaming, then I can wake up. Unless there's a demon guarding this place, all I have to do is will it..." He remembered Niall telling him this. "So... Goodbye."
He turned away from the mage and closed his eyes. He pictured the world outside, tried remembering where he was last, how he got into the Fade in the first place. He was in the Deep Roads on an expedition to find red lyrium needed for a ritual to expel Justice out of Anders' body. Red lyrium turned out to be toxic, it poisoned the mind of Bartrand, the leader of the expedition, who then locked the other partners out, leaving them to die in the Deep Roads. They'd been trying to find a way out for days... wandering among the red lyrium deposits, hearing voices... then there was a dragon... and Wolf and Anders stood in the Fade.
"There was no dragon, it was an illusion," Wolf told himself. "The others must have seen or heard something too. I wonder which visions here were just visions... And where is Anders? If it was indeed Anders and not another illusion..."
He turned around to see if the mage from the closet was still there, but he too had already vanished.
"I am leaving!" Wolf said loudly and firmly.
...
Hawke was once again going through the pockets of Wolf's coat in search of the map of the Deep Roads and not finding it.
"May be Anders has got it instead," Varric hissed, not daring to speak loudly. "Try him."
"Anders is wearing a robe though," Hawke left Wolf alone and moved over to Anders. "It's got no pockets! Blast!"
"He's got pockets, I'm sure of it," Varric didn't give up. "Check his belt, his satchel..."
"Explain yourself!" Suddenly a man's full weight was on top of Hawke, he was knocked down to the floor and pinned in place. Wolf was breathing down his neck.
"Err... But you were knocked out!" Varric exclaimed, attracting attention of several prisoners in the hall. "We need your map to get out of here!" He quickly recovered from the surprise. "He's been searching for the map!"
Wolf let go of Hawke and Hawke rushed back to his own cell. Not paying him any further attention, Wolf knelt over Anders. "Alive," he muttered to himself, having checked his pulse. "But how to bring him back?"
"Look, there's someone here who knows a way out," Varric spoke again and pointed out the mage in the other end of the hall. "He'll lead us to an exit, then we'll wander through tunnels and caverns until we hit a dwarven highway, and from there we'll need your map to find a way out!"
"Aha," Wolf looked at him in disbelief. "That's what we've been trying to do since Bartrand locked us out. That got us here."
"But do you have a better plan?" Varric didn't give up.
"Yes," Wolf looked around at all the prisoners in the hall. "First we figure out where we are. What is this place? Are we still in the Deep Roads? Who are our captors? Why are we here? And anyway, I'm not going anywhere until Anders is back."
"Back from where?" Hawke stared at Anders who was still unconscious.
"From the Fade..." Wolf said slowly. "I am going after him."
"Going how? You are no mage! This is madness!" Varric threw his arms in the air. "Look, he's a nice fellow and all, but we need to save our hides! We've got to go!"
"But if you'd rather stay, give us your map!" Hawke chimed in.
"Hush! Someone's coming!" Wolf sat down on the floor and gestured Varric and Hawke to do the same. Another patrol crossed the hall without stopping.
"Darkspawn?" Wolf turned in surprise. "We've been captured by darkspawn?"
"Now you see why we have to get out!" Varric nodded. "Before we turn into food for red lyrium." He pointed out some of the other prisoners to Wolf - the ones that had red lyrium crystals growing on their bodies.
"I see," Wolf looked grim. "Well, that explains all the voices..."
"What voices?" Hawke squinted. "I hear noise but no distinct voices..."
Wolf didn't answer. He got up and left his cell. None of the cells were locked, and he walked from one prisoner to the next examining them, shaking his head, making notes. He exchanged a few words with those prisoners that were awake, nodded and moved on. Finally he got to the mage that offered his help to escape. He entered his cell and stood really close speaking in a hushed voice.
"I know what you are, emissary," he said in a whisper. "You don't fool me, I can sense the corruption. The Architect is dead, but I suppose he wasn't the only creature of his kind... or else he freed enough darkspawn for them to set out on their own... The question is, what you intend to do with those two?"
"Grey Wardens were always going to be a bother," the mage scowled. "But your blood is worth it... more and more of us are waking up. You should be asleep, my friend... You should rest..."
He cast a spell and Wolf suddenly felt extremely tired. He shook his head, trying to stay awake, yet he could not. He slumped to the floor and the mage sat him up against the wall. A patrol was approaching. They moved Wolf to his cell and took some more blood from him and Anders. They left without even a glance at Varric and Hawke.
"This is bad," Varric said quietly. "They don't grow red lyrium in the Wardens because they want their blood... Wolf called that mage an emissary... He's darkspawn, Hawke..."
"You heard that?" Hawke was surprised but believed his friend. "So, the mage was always going to betray us... What do we do now?"
"It's always the same, is it not?" Varric smirked. "Grey Wardens are the best remedy against darkspawn. When they are not being bled on a daily basis, that is..." He propped himself against the wall and closed his eyes. "We're done, Hawke."
"I can't quite reach," Hawke sighed. He tried to get to Wolf through the bars between their cells but his shoulder wouldn't go through and Wolf sat too far away. "He's got a map of the Deep Roads, it's somewhere in his bag or his pocket... but I can't reach him from here."
"How did you manage to unlock the door?" Varric called out to the mage at the other end of the prison hall who was offering to help them escape. "Since you claim to have tried a few times, you must have gotten out of your cell somehow..."
"My cell isn't locked," the mage looked up in surprise, then opened and shut the door of his cell to demonstrate. "I got out of this hall, that was easy... but where to go from there? The passage just leads to more halls like this one."
"Hmm... So how were you going to help us?" Varric squinted.
"I've seen exits... Tunnels and caves beyond. I just assumed it was some unknown mine... I can lead you to one of the exits, we'll follow the tunnels until we come to a highway in the Deep Roads... Then we'll find a way out using your map!" The mage sounded excited.
"Our door isn't locked either," Hawke realised to his surprise. He stepped out and tried the door of Wolf and Anders' cell. "As easy as that," he grinned, entering. "Now, where did he have that map..?"
...
Wolf stood alone in a foggy corridor in the Fade. He tried running back in the hope to catch up with Anders who stopped following, but the corridor was empty in either direction. Fade had no dimensions, as soon as something vanished from view, it was gone.
"May be not gone completely," Wolf remembered the time when he was stuck in the pocket of Fade that belonged to a Sloth Demon. "The Sloth's pocket had islands, portals and doors, it was well organised and stable... But it was so because the Sloth created it that way. I wonder if there is a demon here as well? Or may be the space between pockets is organised somehow? How do you even..?"
"How do you find your way in the Fade?" He heard someone talking behind him. "You don't!" A mage stood there, smiling. Something about him was familiar. "We've met before, do you remember me? I... was in a closet... during the rebellion in the Tower... I could not face the demons..."
"Ah, hello!" Wolf smiled, recognising him. "It wasn't a bad strategy, you know. You survived."
"Did I?" The mage looked around. "This doesn't look like the Tower. Where are we?"
"Oh dear."
"It's your Fade, is it not?" The mage looked at the walls and pillars with interest. "Looks dwarven. I've never seen such a long corridor before... Where are we going?"
"We?" Wolf was surprised. "How long have you been in the Fade?"
"How long? That's a strange question," the mage smirked. "Time has no meaning here... But I never left the closet, if that helps. It just never seemed safe enough... I think I fell asleep in there when the noises subsided..."
"I am sorry to hear that," Wolf sighed. "It's been years and years. I'm afraid you're dead."
"Really? Well, that would explain things, yes..." The mage didn't seem upset. "I supposed they've buried my body... or burned it... either way, I am but a spirit now."
"You sound like you like it here," once again Wolf felt that something was off.
"What's there not to like?" The mage smiled. "I know no pain or fear, there's no hunger, fatigue or disease... There isn't much to do here, granted, but I'll take safety over excitement any day!"
"Umm... I see," Wolf gave him a long look. "Then... why are you here, talking to me?"
"Why not?" The mage shrugged. "I am here, and you are here, and we are talking... What else is there to do?"
...
"Hurry up, I see a patrol approaching!" Varric whispered urgently to Hawke. "The doors may not be locked, but I bet they won't like to find you in the wrong cell!"
"I can't find his map!" Hawke hissed back. "Where could it be?"
"Leave it and come back before the guards get here!" Varric dared not shout, even though he wanted to. "We'll try again later!"
Hawke left Wolf alone and slipped back into their own cell. The patrol walked past them without looking. They were not getting any food or water that day.
"They started starving you too, I see," the mage from the other end of the hall was watching the patrol. "Time to get out. We need that map!"
...
"That's enough, I am getting out," Wolf said decisively and the mage from the closet shirked away from him. "If I am not dead, then I must be dreaming. And if I am dreaming, then I can wake up. Unless there's a demon guarding this place, all I have to do is will it..." He remembered Niall telling him this. "So... Goodbye."
He turned away from the mage and closed his eyes. He pictured the world outside, tried remembering where he was last, how he got into the Fade in the first place. He was in the Deep Roads on an expedition to find red lyrium needed for a ritual to expel Justice out of Anders' body. Red lyrium turned out to be toxic, it poisoned the mind of Bartrand, the leader of the expedition, who then locked the other partners out, leaving them to die in the Deep Roads. They'd been trying to find a way out for days... wandering among the red lyrium deposits, hearing voices... then there was a dragon... and Wolf and Anders stood in the Fade.
"There was no dragon, it was an illusion," Wolf told himself. "The others must have seen or heard something too. I wonder which visions here were just visions... And where is Anders? If it was indeed Anders and not another illusion..."
He turned around to see if the mage from the closet was still there, but he too had already vanished.
"I am leaving!" Wolf said loudly and firmly.
...
Hawke was once again going through the pockets of Wolf's coat in search of the map of the Deep Roads and not finding it.
"May be Anders has got it instead," Varric hissed, not daring to speak loudly. "Try him."
"Anders is wearing a robe though," Hawke left Wolf alone and moved over to Anders. "It's got no pockets! Blast!"
"He's got pockets, I'm sure of it," Varric didn't give up. "Check his belt, his satchel..."
"Explain yourself!" Suddenly a man's full weight was on top of Hawke, he was knocked down to the floor and pinned in place. Wolf was breathing down his neck.
"Err... But you were knocked out!" Varric exclaimed, attracting attention of several prisoners in the hall. "We need your map to get out of here!" He quickly recovered from the surprise. "He's been searching for the map!"
Wolf let go of Hawke and Hawke rushed back to his own cell. Not paying him any further attention, Wolf knelt over Anders. "Alive," he muttered to himself, having checked his pulse. "But how to bring him back?"
"Look, there's someone here who knows a way out," Varric spoke again and pointed out the mage in the other end of the hall. "He'll lead us to an exit, then we'll wander through tunnels and caverns until we hit a dwarven highway, and from there we'll need your map to find a way out!"
"Aha," Wolf looked at him in disbelief. "That's what we've been trying to do since Bartrand locked us out. That got us here."
"But do you have a better plan?" Varric didn't give up.
"Yes," Wolf looked around at all the prisoners in the hall. "First we figure out where we are. What is this place? Are we still in the Deep Roads? Who are our captors? Why are we here? And anyway, I'm not going anywhere until Anders is back."
"Back from where?" Hawke stared at Anders who was still unconscious.
"From the Fade..." Wolf said slowly. "I am going after him."
"Going how? You are no mage! This is madness!" Varric threw his arms in the air. "Look, he's a nice fellow and all, but we need to save our hides! We've got to go!"
"But if you'd rather stay, give us your map!" Hawke chimed in.
"Hush! Someone's coming!" Wolf sat down on the floor and gestured Varric and Hawke to do the same. Another patrol crossed the hall without stopping.
"Darkspawn?" Wolf turned in surprise. "We've been captured by darkspawn?"
"Now you see why we have to get out!" Varric nodded. "Before we turn into food for red lyrium." He pointed out some of the other prisoners to Wolf - the ones that had red lyrium crystals growing on their bodies.
"I see," Wolf looked grim. "Well, that explains all the voices..."
"What voices?" Hawke squinted. "I hear noise but no distinct voices..."
Wolf didn't answer. He got up and left his cell. None of the cells were locked, and he walked from one prisoner to the next examining them, shaking his head, making notes. He exchanged a few words with those prisoners that were awake, nodded and moved on. Finally he got to the mage that offered his help to escape. He entered his cell and stood really close speaking in a hushed voice.
"I know what you are, emissary," he said in a whisper. "You don't fool me, I can sense the corruption. The Architect is dead, but I suppose he wasn't the only creature of his kind... or else he freed enough darkspawn for them to set out on their own... The question is, what you intend to do with those two?"
"Grey Wardens were always going to be a bother," the mage scowled. "But your blood is worth it... more and more of us are waking up. You should be asleep, my friend... You should rest..."
He cast a spell and Wolf suddenly felt extremely tired. He shook his head, trying to stay awake, yet he could not. He slumped to the floor and the mage sat him up against the wall. A patrol was approaching. They moved Wolf to his cell and took some more blood from him and Anders. They left without even a glance at Varric and Hawke.
"This is bad," Varric said quietly. "They don't grow red lyrium in the Wardens because they want their blood... Wolf called that mage an emissary... He's darkspawn, Hawke..."
"You heard that?" Hawke was surprised but believed his friend. "So, the mage was always going to betray us... What do we do now?"
"It's always the same, is it not?" Varric smirked. "Grey Wardens are the best remedy against darkspawn. When they are not being bled on a daily basis, that is..." He propped himself against the wall and closed his eyes. "We're done, Hawke."
Sun's Dawn, 3E390 - Conclusion
Anders stood alone in a foggy corridor. He fell behind and allowed Wolf to disappear into the mist. Once gone, he was gone. This was the Fade, it had no time or distance.
"He'll realise how to leave and he will leave," Anders told himself. "I am a failure. This mess cannot be fixed... and I cannot allow Justice to re-enter the mortal realm." He sat down on the floor and closed his eyes. Sooner or later he'd be dead. "If there's a demon here, come and eat my soul," he said aloud. "I don't need it any more."
...
"No, I am not giving up," Wolf was back in the misty corridor in the Fade. "Anders must be here somewhere. Wynne must be here somewhere, that spirit of hers must let her in... a Spirit of Faith... Alistair... and other Grey Wardens... are we not all linked through the taint? Isn't that the point? Avernus must hear me... If only I knew how to reach them..!"
A sense of urgency filled his soul and he ran, even though the misty corridor always remained the same.
"All you have to do is will it," Niall's words echoed in his mind. What if it worked for everything and not just for leaving the Fade? He did not want to leave yet, it would only return him to the darkspawn prison. He knew where they were, he figured it out. The maps of the Deep Roads were in his pocket, one that required Wardens' taint to find... Hawke would never find it. Now he needed to call for help. Avernus. He wanted to speak with Avernus. Avernus would know what to do.
Wolf slowed down. Avernus. He kept repeating the old wizard's name over and over.
"Yes, yes, I can hear you, stop shouting already!" Avernus' voice called from further ahead. "You learned to navigate the Fade... somewhat. Not bad for a non-mage!" Avernus approached, smiling. "What's the emergency?"
Wolf explained as best he could. Showed the maps which were somehow still in his pocket ("You memorised them, of course"). They needed outside help, they needed a rescue. Avernus listened intently and promised to act.
"I shall go to Vigil Keep at once and we'll get you out," he said decisively. "You need to return to your body and wait without slipping into the Fade again. I think you can manage that..."
"But what about Anders?" Wolf sounded worried. "I cannot find him... I tried. Is Justice preventing me?"
"No, Anders is preventing you," Avernus shook his head. "It sounds like he decided to sacrifice himself... You cannot find him if he does not wish it."
"Then I know what I must do."
Avernus left and Wolf resumed walking.
"Justice!" He called loudly. "I know you are here! Show yourself!"
He called several times, and eventually Justice appeared.
"What do you want of me, mortal?" He asked with disdain. "I am back in my domain."
"You killed my friend!" Wolf exclaimed with anger. "I demand justice! Defend yourself!"
He drew his sword and Justice responded, they duelled until both were exhausted and nearly dead... but Wolf persevered. It was never going to be easy to defeat Justice, but he would not be able to live with himself if he gave up. "Sovngarde awaits!" He told himself. "I wonder how many Nords can boast about dying in a duel with the Spirit of Justice? That'll make for some great stories, no doubt..."
"I yield, that's enough," suddenly Justice stopped the fight. "You bested me, mortal..." He sighed. "But what did you mean about me killing your friend? I... I am confused. He let me in willingly."
"He did not realise that you would not be able to leave," Wolf said with a sigh. "And even now that you are back in the Fade, he serves as a gateway for you to return to the mortal realm any time you want to. Anders' being is no longer his own. And so he entered the Fade and will not return. The only way for him to close that gate is to die with it."
"I... understand," Justice nodded slowly. "It is not just that his life should end on my behalf... I... did not think of him as a person... Follow me."
Justice walked purposefully down the corridor and soon they came upon Anders sitting on the floor. As soon as Justice was near him, a cord connecting them became apparent. Justice drew his sword and cut it. Anders collapsed.
"It is up to you now, mortal," Justice turned to Wolf. "I did not feed on his soul, I am no demon. But I was sustaining his body for my benefit and his. I now cut that connection. His true condition is... weak. He will likely die anyway. But he will die free of any possession."
Justice walked away. Wolf knelt over Anders, checking his pulse - he wasn't dead yet. He shook him by the shoulders trying to wake him up, but it had no effect. Something more decisive was needed.
...
Once again Wolf was back in the mortal realm. He looked around - he was sitting in his cell, his wrist was lightly bleeding. Anders was slumped against the wall beside him, his wrist bleeding as well. He looked pale, his heartbeat was erratic.
"He will expire before long," Wolf thought. "What he needs is for someone to augment his strength until our rescue arrives... If only I was a mage..."
Another patrol was approaching. Wolf closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. He allowed them to take blood from his wrist. They took some from Anders as well, then one of them shook his head realising that Anders was dying. To Wolf's surprise, he poured a potion down his thoat and Anders' breathing improved.
"They are keeping us alive," Wolf realised. "Alive and producing blood..."
He peeked through his almost closed eyelids to check on Varric and Hawke - they were pale too, but didn't seem unconscious. There was no food or water in their cell. Rescue could not come soon enough.
...
The ruined temple in Drakefall Wastes had a vast underground network of halls and corridors. It seemed to have been built to house troops or prisoners or both, it was hard to tell. It was the same complex that the Mother had chosen for her lair years ago. Grey Wardens knew where they were going. It was hard getting there and hard finding the right hall where our party was held, but find them they did. Varric could hardly believe his eyes when a Grey Warden stood over him, a griffon crest on his armour shining from within.
"You are the best vision I've had all day," Varric smirked. "And boy, have I had visions..." Red lyrium crystals were now surrounding him and Hawke, but none were visible on their bodies yet. The rescue came in the nick of time.
Anders was still unconscious, however. They had to carry him but no one was suggesting leaving him behind.
"It's too bad we cannot help the other prisoners," Varric sighed looking at all the people prostrate in their cells. "They are already too far gone..."
"I wonder where and how they were captured," Hawke nodded. "If we can figure it out, we can put a stop to it..."
"And die in the process?" Varric shook his head. "This is big, Hawke. Too big for the likes of you and me. This requires..."
"What?"
"Something big," Varric shrugged. "I don't know. This is worse than a Blight..."
Vigil Keep wasn't too far away, and they reached it without incident. After a few days recuperation, Varric and Hawke took a ship back to Kirkwall. Anders remained unconscious and Wolf insisted that Avernus should send him back to the Fade to get Anders to return, and once they were both back in the mortal realm, he insisted again that Avernus should use his blood to keep Anders alive until his heart would beat on its own.
"That's a lot of blood," Anders commented when he was finally out of the crisis. "Look at you - you're pale as a sheet... Why are you doing it? This was a mess of my own making, and I was resigned to let it end..."
"You remind me of someone," Wolf smiled. "Someone I knew years ago... Someone who got himself into a similar mess and was ready to die to resolve it, but then got saved by a stranger... more than once. I saved you because I could do so. I don't believe you will be getting into any further mess... I could be wrong though, who knows..."
"That someone was you, wasn't it?" Anders squinted. "Back in... what was that land you are from? Skyrim..? Something to do with sky and snow, I remember..."
"The same as Anderfells, Anders," Wolf smiled. "Anders isn't a name, it's where you are from... sky and snow, as you say."
"I resented being taken to the Circle," Anders nodded. "I refused to tell them my name... So they called me Anders, and it stuck. It's my name now."
"I should have known, you Northeners stick together," Zevran walked in. "I am not letting you out of my sight again, my friend," he turned to Wolf. "I am not a Grey Warden, I would not hear your call... Yes, Avernus explained about that."
"Antiva is even further North than Anderfells," Wolf smirked. "Which makes you a Northener too."
"Antiva is a land of hot deserts, sunshine and palm trees, none of your cold and snow," Zevran shook his head vigorously. "A marvel of geography, what do I know... Antiva has been sending Crows after me again, such a bother... I'll have to go there and deal with them once and for all."
"And you are not going without me!" Wolf protested. "I still remember how to fight with daggers..."
Anders stood alone in a foggy corridor. He fell behind and allowed Wolf to disappear into the mist. Once gone, he was gone. This was the Fade, it had no time or distance.
"He'll realise how to leave and he will leave," Anders told himself. "I am a failure. This mess cannot be fixed... and I cannot allow Justice to re-enter the mortal realm." He sat down on the floor and closed his eyes. Sooner or later he'd be dead. "If there's a demon here, come and eat my soul," he said aloud. "I don't need it any more."
...
"No, I am not giving up," Wolf was back in the misty corridor in the Fade. "Anders must be here somewhere. Wynne must be here somewhere, that spirit of hers must let her in... a Spirit of Faith... Alistair... and other Grey Wardens... are we not all linked through the taint? Isn't that the point? Avernus must hear me... If only I knew how to reach them..!"
A sense of urgency filled his soul and he ran, even though the misty corridor always remained the same.
"All you have to do is will it," Niall's words echoed in his mind. What if it worked for everything and not just for leaving the Fade? He did not want to leave yet, it would only return him to the darkspawn prison. He knew where they were, he figured it out. The maps of the Deep Roads were in his pocket, one that required Wardens' taint to find... Hawke would never find it. Now he needed to call for help. Avernus. He wanted to speak with Avernus. Avernus would know what to do.
Wolf slowed down. Avernus. He kept repeating the old wizard's name over and over.
"Yes, yes, I can hear you, stop shouting already!" Avernus' voice called from further ahead. "You learned to navigate the Fade... somewhat. Not bad for a non-mage!" Avernus approached, smiling. "What's the emergency?"
Wolf explained as best he could. Showed the maps which were somehow still in his pocket ("You memorised them, of course"). They needed outside help, they needed a rescue. Avernus listened intently and promised to act.
"I shall go to Vigil Keep at once and we'll get you out," he said decisively. "You need to return to your body and wait without slipping into the Fade again. I think you can manage that..."
"But what about Anders?" Wolf sounded worried. "I cannot find him... I tried. Is Justice preventing me?"
"No, Anders is preventing you," Avernus shook his head. "It sounds like he decided to sacrifice himself... You cannot find him if he does not wish it."
"Then I know what I must do."
Avernus left and Wolf resumed walking.
"Justice!" He called loudly. "I know you are here! Show yourself!"
He called several times, and eventually Justice appeared.
"What do you want of me, mortal?" He asked with disdain. "I am back in my domain."
"You killed my friend!" Wolf exclaimed with anger. "I demand justice! Defend yourself!"
He drew his sword and Justice responded, they duelled until both were exhausted and nearly dead... but Wolf persevered. It was never going to be easy to defeat Justice, but he would not be able to live with himself if he gave up. "Sovngarde awaits!" He told himself. "I wonder how many Nords can boast about dying in a duel with the Spirit of Justice? That'll make for some great stories, no doubt..."
"I yield, that's enough," suddenly Justice stopped the fight. "You bested me, mortal..." He sighed. "But what did you mean about me killing your friend? I... I am confused. He let me in willingly."
"He did not realise that you would not be able to leave," Wolf said with a sigh. "And even now that you are back in the Fade, he serves as a gateway for you to return to the mortal realm any time you want to. Anders' being is no longer his own. And so he entered the Fade and will not return. The only way for him to close that gate is to die with it."
"I... understand," Justice nodded slowly. "It is not just that his life should end on my behalf... I... did not think of him as a person... Follow me."
Justice walked purposefully down the corridor and soon they came upon Anders sitting on the floor. As soon as Justice was near him, a cord connecting them became apparent. Justice drew his sword and cut it. Anders collapsed.
"It is up to you now, mortal," Justice turned to Wolf. "I did not feed on his soul, I am no demon. But I was sustaining his body for my benefit and his. I now cut that connection. His true condition is... weak. He will likely die anyway. But he will die free of any possession."
Justice walked away. Wolf knelt over Anders, checking his pulse - he wasn't dead yet. He shook him by the shoulders trying to wake him up, but it had no effect. Something more decisive was needed.
...
Once again Wolf was back in the mortal realm. He looked around - he was sitting in his cell, his wrist was lightly bleeding. Anders was slumped against the wall beside him, his wrist bleeding as well. He looked pale, his heartbeat was erratic.
"He will expire before long," Wolf thought. "What he needs is for someone to augment his strength until our rescue arrives... If only I was a mage..."
Another patrol was approaching. Wolf closed his eyes pretending to be asleep. He allowed them to take blood from his wrist. They took some from Anders as well, then one of them shook his head realising that Anders was dying. To Wolf's surprise, he poured a potion down his thoat and Anders' breathing improved.
"They are keeping us alive," Wolf realised. "Alive and producing blood..."
He peeked through his almost closed eyelids to check on Varric and Hawke - they were pale too, but didn't seem unconscious. There was no food or water in their cell. Rescue could not come soon enough.
...
The ruined temple in Drakefall Wastes had a vast underground network of halls and corridors. It seemed to have been built to house troops or prisoners or both, it was hard to tell. It was the same complex that the Mother had chosen for her lair years ago. Grey Wardens knew where they were going. It was hard getting there and hard finding the right hall where our party was held, but find them they did. Varric could hardly believe his eyes when a Grey Warden stood over him, a griffon crest on his armour shining from within.
"You are the best vision I've had all day," Varric smirked. "And boy, have I had visions..." Red lyrium crystals were now surrounding him and Hawke, but none were visible on their bodies yet. The rescue came in the nick of time.
Anders was still unconscious, however. They had to carry him but no one was suggesting leaving him behind.
"It's too bad we cannot help the other prisoners," Varric sighed looking at all the people prostrate in their cells. "They are already too far gone..."
"I wonder where and how they were captured," Hawke nodded. "If we can figure it out, we can put a stop to it..."
"And die in the process?" Varric shook his head. "This is big, Hawke. Too big for the likes of you and me. This requires..."
"What?"
"Something big," Varric shrugged. "I don't know. This is worse than a Blight..."
Vigil Keep wasn't too far away, and they reached it without incident. After a few days recuperation, Varric and Hawke took a ship back to Kirkwall. Anders remained unconscious and Wolf insisted that Avernus should send him back to the Fade to get Anders to return, and once they were both back in the mortal realm, he insisted again that Avernus should use his blood to keep Anders alive until his heart would beat on its own.
"That's a lot of blood," Anders commented when he was finally out of the crisis. "Look at you - you're pale as a sheet... Why are you doing it? This was a mess of my own making, and I was resigned to let it end..."
"You remind me of someone," Wolf smiled. "Someone I knew years ago... Someone who got himself into a similar mess and was ready to die to resolve it, but then got saved by a stranger... more than once. I saved you because I could do so. I don't believe you will be getting into any further mess... I could be wrong though, who knows..."
"That someone was you, wasn't it?" Anders squinted. "Back in... what was that land you are from? Skyrim..? Something to do with sky and snow, I remember..."
"The same as Anderfells, Anders," Wolf smiled. "Anders isn't a name, it's where you are from... sky and snow, as you say."
"I resented being taken to the Circle," Anders nodded. "I refused to tell them my name... So they called me Anders, and it stuck. It's my name now."
"I should have known, you Northeners stick together," Zevran walked in. "I am not letting you out of my sight again, my friend," he turned to Wolf. "I am not a Grey Warden, I would not hear your call... Yes, Avernus explained about that."
"Antiva is even further North than Anderfells," Wolf smirked. "Which makes you a Northener too."
"Antiva is a land of hot deserts, sunshine and palm trees, none of your cold and snow," Zevran shook his head vigorously. "A marvel of geography, what do I know... Antiva has been sending Crows after me again, such a bother... I'll have to go there and deal with them once and for all."
"And you are not going without me!" Wolf protested. "I still remember how to fight with daggers..."
Hearthfire, 3E398 - Ten years on
Grey Wardens didn't have much to do in times between the Blights. It was common for their order to retreat into the shadows and take care of their own business. They would watch the world around them but their focus would always be on darkspawn rather than politics. It was for that reason that even though Grey Wardens knew about the power of red lyrium, they did not make it their priority to investigate it any further. They watched from the shadows the swelling conflict between mages and templars - mages being locked away for life in Circle Towers with templars watching their every move, templars who were themselves controlled by the Chantry through their imposed addiction to lyrium... So much coersion and control was going to explode into everyone's faces sooner or later.
Kirkwall became the centre of that explosion. The templars there exercised particularly harsh control over the mages, to the point that even the order of Seekers got involved. The Seekers of Truth was an order of warriors overlooking the Chantry and the templars alike... they were believed to be perfectly neutral and infalliable in their judgement. They launched an investigation into alleged oppression of mages in Kirkwall, found excessive use of force by the templars, but also found many instances of the use of blood magic by the mages, and didn't investigate what came first... assuming that the original fault must be with the mages. The Seekers did not find any cause for concern even when reports of red lyrium started coming in. So when some anarchist in Kirkwall planted a bomb in the Chantry out of protest against templar oppression, the Seekers looked on as the templars denounced the Chantry, threw out their vows to protect the innocent and came down on the mages with unprecedented force, not even trying to find any wrongdoing apart from possessing the gift of magic. Many non-mages perished as well, accused of being mage sympathisers... None of that raised any concerns with the Seekers. All they saw were mages out of control.
The events in Kirkwall started a chain reaction. Mages everywhere began protesting against being locked up in the Circles, and templars began overthrowing Chantry control and persecuting mages and general public alike. A civil war of epic proportions broke out, to rival even the Blight in cruelty and ferocity. Fighting was everywhere, the world of Thedas was being swallowed by it.
It was then that the Chantry finally decided to act. Divine Justinia called a conclave - peace talks in an attempt to stop the war between mages and templars. Fighting seized temporarily, and that in itself was giving people hope. The conclave was to be held in the holiest of all places - the temple holding the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It was the last hope for peace, and everyone was finally taking it seriously, even the Grey Wardens.
"We should not be interfering in politics," Avernus was shaking his head. "It backfired three hundred years ago and it will backfire again!"
"But the Seekers are not taking red lyrium seriously," Alistair disagreed. "They are blinded by the actions of the mages - which are horrific, I agree! - and they are not seeing that the templars are out of control and turning into monsters! We are the only force that can stop them!"
"Are you suggesting we side with blood mages?!" Oghren nearly jumped up. "You, of all people! You, a templar?!"
"Almost a templar but not quite," Alistair shot him a glance. "And no, I am not suggesting we side with blood mages! Even if some of us use it..." He glared at Anders.
"What?!" Anders glared back. "You use a sword but you are selective whose head you cut off! Blood magic is just a tool, no more..."
"We are not going to side with anyone!" Wolf raised his voice over everyone else's. "We'll attend the conclave to see for ourselves what transpires. Red lyrium is lyrium corrupted with darkspawn taint, which makes it our business. If the others refuse to see the danger, we cannot. Alistair, Anders and I will go to Haven and observe the events, no more."
...
Haven was covered in snow, just as it was the first time Wolf and his party found it up in the mountains. The village had grown since, wealth was visible in every house. With so many pilgrims wanting to see the temple that once held the Urn of Sacred Ashes, the village became a tourist attraction like no other.
Of course, none was able to see the Urn of Sacred Ashes itself. Although the temple still stood like before, many cave-ins cut off large portions of it and even in spite of extensive excavations the Urn could not be found. There was no dragon nesting above the temple either, and some wondered whether the dragon had been in fact their Prophet in a different form, and when the dragon left, so did the ashes. After all, this was meant to be the Prophet's final resting place, not a busy tourist attraction...
Regardless of the Urn, however, the Temple of Sacred Ashes, as it was now known, became the holiest relic of Thedas all in its own right.
"I think I might be sick," Zevran was scanning the crowd around them, seeing mostly Chantry robes wherever he looked. "I've never seen so much clergy together in one place!"
"Nervous that your sins might catch up with you?" Alistair smirked. He never forgave Zevran his occupation. "You know that murder is wrong, don't you?"
"And so you say," Zevran looked at him sideways. "But I offer a prayer for each life I take, I ask forgiveness for my sins and always get a blessing... The Maker does not seem to mind, so why should you?"
"You ask forgiveness..?" Alistair was taken aback.
"There is a chapel at Vigil Keep," Zevran nodded. "I've never seen you there for some reason..."
Wolf grinned and shook his head. This was yet another side of Zevran he did not expect to find. Wolf never went to the chapel either, he went to the mortuary for his own devotions, that being the closest thing to a chapel of Arkay.
"Clergy has little to do with devotion though," he nodded. "I find it sickening as well. But we are here to observe, so we need to mingle..."
"Why did you join us, Zevran?" Anders asked as they resumed their wandering. "You didn't have to, it's about the most boring event I ever had to attend..."
"It is too convenient for an assassin to reach any target," Zevran replied, not taking his eyes off the crowd. "It is a threat none of you would be able to see. I am here to observe as well."
"We should see if we can get to the temple itself," Wolf decided. "That's where the actual talks are held, not here in the village. Come on."
They walked up the mountain pass and crossed the bridge to the temple. They were now seeing mages robes and templar armour as well as the clergy. They stood in separate groups and did not mix.
"The halls behind these doors are used for the talks and you are not invited," templars closed their ranks before Wolf and his party. "You may loiter in the lobby together with the rest of them, but you are not getting in."
Wolf didn't insist. He exchanged glances with Zevran and Alistair - all three of them had gone through the tests on the way to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. There was more than one entrance to those halls. They circled back, cleared some snow, moved some boulders to reveal a caved-in door, and soon they stood in a deserted corridor with voices echoing further ahead.
"Up there," Wolf nodded. "Through the traps and a puzzle bridge, if memory serves..."
...
"What was that?!" A giant explosion further ahead sent shockwaves both through earth and air. Wolf bolted, his companions hot on his heels. "What is going on here?!" he threw open the door.
"Run! Run while you can..!" A woman on a crucifix was burning with a magical fire. Flames were all around them, the place did not look like any hall of the Temple of Sacred Ashes that Wolf could recall.
"Intruder!!!" A booming voice came from above. "Kill him!!!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This episode has a short summary of the remainder of Dragon Age II and blends into the starting sequence of Dragon Age: Inquisition.
I skipped most of Dragon Age II. However, the story is important because the games form a sequence, including the DLC. The Dragon Age series is more about the events in the world than it is about characters, which is rather contradictory to the setup of the games, in my opinion. BioWare's strength lies with character development, and yet they insist on dropping your lead character and the majority of important figures for every game and starting from scratch with a new cast. I prefer to shift focus to characters and use politics as a backdrop, however. I therefore reuse my lead character from Origins and give some of the other characters more meaningful roles. This means that large chunks will be skipped, new stories will be added and some "historical accounts" altered, in particular where they contradict common sense.
Note also that I changed a few titles because I chose to omit the details about political systems and religion in Thedas. So where the titles were very specific, I made them more generic with the same meaning. If you played the game, you'll know what I mean.
~~~ The following will only make sense if you know the lore ~~~
My story is based exclusively on the Dragon Age games. I never read any of the spin-off novels or comic books, so I don't know what happened "behind the scenes" (although I read a few things in various Wikis). So as far as I am concerned, Alistair was a full human, his mother was a maid at Redcliffe Castle and Goldana was his true half-sister; Fiona was not a Grey Warden and never has been. Note that her being a Grey Warden actually contradicts the thesis that all Grey Wardens had their minds turned during Inquisition by... you know who. Besides, if Fiona joined Grey Wardens at around the same time as Duncan as the book claims, then by the time of Inquisition she should have been long gone to the Black City already. Avernus was the only known exception.
In a word, I see the games as forming a fairly consistent story line while the books (or rather the bits about them that I come across here and there) form an add-on with some alternative realities. Much like my own story, in fact. And therefore they don't fit into my narrative.
Grey Wardens didn't have much to do in times between the Blights. It was common for their order to retreat into the shadows and take care of their own business. They would watch the world around them but their focus would always be on darkspawn rather than politics. It was for that reason that even though Grey Wardens knew about the power of red lyrium, they did not make it their priority to investigate it any further. They watched from the shadows the swelling conflict between mages and templars - mages being locked away for life in Circle Towers with templars watching their every move, templars who were themselves controlled by the Chantry through their imposed addiction to lyrium... So much coersion and control was going to explode into everyone's faces sooner or later.
Kirkwall became the centre of that explosion. The templars there exercised particularly harsh control over the mages, to the point that even the order of Seekers got involved. The Seekers of Truth was an order of warriors overlooking the Chantry and the templars alike... they were believed to be perfectly neutral and infalliable in their judgement. They launched an investigation into alleged oppression of mages in Kirkwall, found excessive use of force by the templars, but also found many instances of the use of blood magic by the mages, and didn't investigate what came first... assuming that the original fault must be with the mages. The Seekers did not find any cause for concern even when reports of red lyrium started coming in. So when some anarchist in Kirkwall planted a bomb in the Chantry out of protest against templar oppression, the Seekers looked on as the templars denounced the Chantry, threw out their vows to protect the innocent and came down on the mages with unprecedented force, not even trying to find any wrongdoing apart from possessing the gift of magic. Many non-mages perished as well, accused of being mage sympathisers... None of that raised any concerns with the Seekers. All they saw were mages out of control.
The events in Kirkwall started a chain reaction. Mages everywhere began protesting against being locked up in the Circles, and templars began overthrowing Chantry control and persecuting mages and general public alike. A civil war of epic proportions broke out, to rival even the Blight in cruelty and ferocity. Fighting was everywhere, the world of Thedas was being swallowed by it.
It was then that the Chantry finally decided to act. Divine Justinia called a conclave - peace talks in an attempt to stop the war between mages and templars. Fighting seized temporarily, and that in itself was giving people hope. The conclave was to be held in the holiest of all places - the temple holding the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It was the last hope for peace, and everyone was finally taking it seriously, even the Grey Wardens.
"We should not be interfering in politics," Avernus was shaking his head. "It backfired three hundred years ago and it will backfire again!"
"But the Seekers are not taking red lyrium seriously," Alistair disagreed. "They are blinded by the actions of the mages - which are horrific, I agree! - and they are not seeing that the templars are out of control and turning into monsters! We are the only force that can stop them!"
"Are you suggesting we side with blood mages?!" Oghren nearly jumped up. "You, of all people! You, a templar?!"
"Almost a templar but not quite," Alistair shot him a glance. "And no, I am not suggesting we side with blood mages! Even if some of us use it..." He glared at Anders.
"What?!" Anders glared back. "You use a sword but you are selective whose head you cut off! Blood magic is just a tool, no more..."
"We are not going to side with anyone!" Wolf raised his voice over everyone else's. "We'll attend the conclave to see for ourselves what transpires. Red lyrium is lyrium corrupted with darkspawn taint, which makes it our business. If the others refuse to see the danger, we cannot. Alistair, Anders and I will go to Haven and observe the events, no more."
...
Haven was covered in snow, just as it was the first time Wolf and his party found it up in the mountains. The village had grown since, wealth was visible in every house. With so many pilgrims wanting to see the temple that once held the Urn of Sacred Ashes, the village became a tourist attraction like no other.
Of course, none was able to see the Urn of Sacred Ashes itself. Although the temple still stood like before, many cave-ins cut off large portions of it and even in spite of extensive excavations the Urn could not be found. There was no dragon nesting above the temple either, and some wondered whether the dragon had been in fact their Prophet in a different form, and when the dragon left, so did the ashes. After all, this was meant to be the Prophet's final resting place, not a busy tourist attraction...
Regardless of the Urn, however, the Temple of Sacred Ashes, as it was now known, became the holiest relic of Thedas all in its own right.
"I think I might be sick," Zevran was scanning the crowd around them, seeing mostly Chantry robes wherever he looked. "I've never seen so much clergy together in one place!"
"Nervous that your sins might catch up with you?" Alistair smirked. He never forgave Zevran his occupation. "You know that murder is wrong, don't you?"
"And so you say," Zevran looked at him sideways. "But I offer a prayer for each life I take, I ask forgiveness for my sins and always get a blessing... The Maker does not seem to mind, so why should you?"
"You ask forgiveness..?" Alistair was taken aback.
"There is a chapel at Vigil Keep," Zevran nodded. "I've never seen you there for some reason..."
Wolf grinned and shook his head. This was yet another side of Zevran he did not expect to find. Wolf never went to the chapel either, he went to the mortuary for his own devotions, that being the closest thing to a chapel of Arkay.
"Clergy has little to do with devotion though," he nodded. "I find it sickening as well. But we are here to observe, so we need to mingle..."
"Why did you join us, Zevran?" Anders asked as they resumed their wandering. "You didn't have to, it's about the most boring event I ever had to attend..."
"It is too convenient for an assassin to reach any target," Zevran replied, not taking his eyes off the crowd. "It is a threat none of you would be able to see. I am here to observe as well."
"We should see if we can get to the temple itself," Wolf decided. "That's where the actual talks are held, not here in the village. Come on."
They walked up the mountain pass and crossed the bridge to the temple. They were now seeing mages robes and templar armour as well as the clergy. They stood in separate groups and did not mix.
"The halls behind these doors are used for the talks and you are not invited," templars closed their ranks before Wolf and his party. "You may loiter in the lobby together with the rest of them, but you are not getting in."
Wolf didn't insist. He exchanged glances with Zevran and Alistair - all three of them had gone through the tests on the way to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. There was more than one entrance to those halls. They circled back, cleared some snow, moved some boulders to reveal a caved-in door, and soon they stood in a deserted corridor with voices echoing further ahead.
"Up there," Wolf nodded. "Through the traps and a puzzle bridge, if memory serves..."
...
"What was that?!" A giant explosion further ahead sent shockwaves both through earth and air. Wolf bolted, his companions hot on his heels. "What is going on here?!" he threw open the door.
"Run! Run while you can..!" A woman on a crucifix was burning with a magical fire. Flames were all around them, the place did not look like any hall of the Temple of Sacred Ashes that Wolf could recall.
"Intruder!!!" A booming voice came from above. "Kill him!!!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Notes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This episode has a short summary of the remainder of Dragon Age II and blends into the starting sequence of Dragon Age: Inquisition.
I skipped most of Dragon Age II. However, the story is important because the games form a sequence, including the DLC. The Dragon Age series is more about the events in the world than it is about characters, which is rather contradictory to the setup of the games, in my opinion. BioWare's strength lies with character development, and yet they insist on dropping your lead character and the majority of important figures for every game and starting from scratch with a new cast. I prefer to shift focus to characters and use politics as a backdrop, however. I therefore reuse my lead character from Origins and give some of the other characters more meaningful roles. This means that large chunks will be skipped, new stories will be added and some "historical accounts" altered, in particular where they contradict common sense.
Note also that I changed a few titles because I chose to omit the details about political systems and religion in Thedas. So where the titles were very specific, I made them more generic with the same meaning. If you played the game, you'll know what I mean.
~~~ The following will only make sense if you know the lore ~~~
My story is based exclusively on the Dragon Age games. I never read any of the spin-off novels or comic books, so I don't know what happened "behind the scenes" (although I read a few things in various Wikis). So as far as I am concerned, Alistair was a full human, his mother was a maid at Redcliffe Castle and Goldana was his true half-sister; Fiona was not a Grey Warden and never has been. Note that her being a Grey Warden actually contradicts the thesis that all Grey Wardens had their minds turned during Inquisition by... you know who. Besides, if Fiona joined Grey Wardens at around the same time as Duncan as the book claims, then by the time of Inquisition she should have been long gone to the Black City already. Avernus was the only known exception.
In a word, I see the games as forming a fairly consistent story line while the books (or rather the bits about them that I come across here and there) form an add-on with some alternative realities. Much like my own story, in fact. And therefore they don't fit into my narrative.
Hearthfire, 3E398 - Old acquaintances
"Tell me why I should not kill you now," a tall slender woman with a Nevarran accent spoke sharply. "Explain this!" She turned Wolf's palm upwards and an acid green mark shone from it.
"Eh... I told you - I don't know what this is," Wolf replied with a tired voice. "We've been over it a dozen times already, and my answer is not going to change." He was sitting in the middle of a round "interrogation room", he was cuffed and bound. He didn't remember how he got there, he thought he was in the Fade... but the place he was in didn't resemble the Fade and the woman seemed too real to be a mere spirit.
"Still no luck?" Another woman walked in.
"He is denying everything!" The Nevarran woman scowled.
"Well, if you give him to me, we have ways..." The other woman rolled her eyes, paying more attention to the Nevarran than to the prisoner.
"No," the Nevarran shook her head. "Solas thinks he may be useful even so. We are going to test it."
"Oh alright, if you must..." the other woman left, not sparing Wolf another glance.
"Come with me," the Nevarran cut the ties around Wolf's ankles and removed his cuffs. "Don't try anything, I am watching you!" She glared. She was clearly not a woman to cross. "This way."
They were still in Haven. The air was crisp as ever, but something was wrong. A giant acid green vortex rose from one of the mountain peaks - that with the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Smaller vortices were visible in several other locations. The woman was directing Wolf to one of these smaller vortices.
"This is your doing!" The Nevarran said angrily to Wolf. "The conclave is destroyed! Everyone is dead! The temple is in ruins! What kind of magic did you use there? What kind of explosives? The guards remember you sneaking around the place! Where are your co-conspirators? Answer me!!!" She pushed him against a wall of rock, her face contorted with rage.
"You haven't killed me yet, so you still need me for something," Wolf smiled pleasantly.
"Ugh!" The woman let go of him and pushed him further up the hill.
Demons rose from the ground blocking their way.
"Get behind me!!" The Nevarran ordered Wolf and charged the nearest demon.
"Well, hello, darlings, long time no see," Wolf muttered, looking around. Fallen soldiers were all over the place, he grabbed a sword and a dagger and faced a demon of his own.
"Drop your weapons!!!" The Nevarran dispatched her demon and turned on Wolf. "Now!!!!"
"Fine, have it your way," Wolf shrugged and tossed his weapons to the ground. "Where to next?"
"Hmm... No... you need that," the Nevarran sighed. "There are more demons ahead, and I need you alive. Pick that up. You go first. Hands where I can see them!!" She added menacingly.
They didn't have far to go, one of the acid green vortices was up ahead. Demons were all around it, and so they joined the fighting. Then, suddenly, an elven mage grabbed Wolf by the wrist pointing the mark on his hand at the vortex. The vortex responded, twisted and spun, then collapsed on itself and vanished.
"As I suspected," the elf said with satisfaction letting go of Wolf's hand. "This will close the rifts."
"So he's the one responsible!" The Nevarran woman exclaimed, her sword at Wolf's throat.
"No, he is not," the elf replied flatly. "He simply got caught up in the explosion, survived... somehow... and got that souvenir from it. It reacts to the rifts, that is all. He is the solution, not the problem."
"And here I was, thinking we'd be ass deep in demons forever," a dwarf stepped forward. "Varric's the name. Rogue, storyteller and an occasional tug-along, at your service," he grinned and winked.
"Absolutely not!!" The Nevarran woman looked very angry. "Our forces..."
"Your forces are thin on the ground, decimated by the mage-templar fighting and unable to hold even the smallest of villages. This calls for a different team altogether. You need me, Seeker." Varric folded his arms.
Seeker? Wolf looked at the Nevarran woman with interest, only now noticing the crest on her shield and armour: the sun overlaid with an ever-seeing eye and a sword. The Order of Seekers of Truth, the ones that stood above the templars and the Chantry.
"Ugh! But you may be right," she scoffed. "I am Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker of the Chantry," she introduced herself to Wolf. "What is your name, prisoner?"
"Prisoner?" Wolf smirked. "Oh yes. Would you like to cut off my hand, Seeker? That's the only part of me that you actually care about, it seems."
"That won't do," the elven mage interfered. "You have to stay alive, with the hand attached."
"Unfortunately," Cassandra grimaced, baring her teeth. "So, what is your name?"
"Wolf," Wolf mirrored her grimace. "At your service."
"Well, I am Solas," the elf said, clearly amused by the confrontation.
"An apostate!" Cassandra bared her teeth at Solas as well.
"An apostate who knows more about the Fade than any Circle mage ever hoped to," Solas said soothingly. "You need me, Cassandra."
"Let's go," Cassandra looked at each of them, shaking her head. "The mark worked. Wolf stays with us."
She started marching back to the camp and the others followed. "She doesn't like it but she understands the necessity," Wolf was thinking watching her determined walk. "And Varric didn't mention we've met... I won't be able to keep it a secret as to who I am, of course... It's a small world... I wonder who else we'll meet and why Varric is here..."
"Ah, there you are!" A cleric turned around hearing them approach. He had been argueing with someone. "I order you to put this prisoner in chains straight away and prepare him for execution!" He barked at Cassandra.
"You order me?!" She smirked. "You are a glorified clerk! You cannot order me to do anything, Lord Chancellor, and you know it!"
"And you are a thug, nothing more!" The cleric retorted. "In so-called service to the Chantry, Seeker!" He spat that title like it was a swear.
"So no one here is in charge," Wolf watched that exchange with amusement.
"You killed everyone in charge!!!" The cleric spat.
"We shall go and close the breach," Cassandra changed the topic, pointing at the big vortex over the mountain top. "His mark worked on the small one."
"He should be in chains, executed! Not going anywhere! You won't be able to close that breach anyway!!" The cleric exploded with objections, but Cassandra simply turned away.
"Come on. We'll go through the mountains, it is the most direct route," Cassandra was ready to set off.
"No, take the troops and go from the front," a woman objected. "You need him alive, and this will be safer." Her voice seemed familiar, but Wolf was already following Cassandra. Nobody seemed to agree with anybody else on anything here. So rather than trying to figure it out, he focused on staying alive.
...
The big vortex, or the breach as they called it, was located exactly above the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or rather the ruin that it had become. The Veil was thin there, as was evident from all the echoes of past events that they saw and heard. Red lyrium crystals were everywhere, covering remnants of walls and columns. The vision of a woman on a flaming crucifix was the strongest of all.
"What is going on here?!" Wolf heard his own voice.
"We have an intruder! Kill him!!" A booming voice replied.
"Run! Run while you can..!"
"That was Divine Justinia!" Cassandra exclaimed. "And you ran in when it was already too late... You didn't do it then!"
"But who was the man with the booming voice?" Varric wondered.
"The one who caused the explosion, I would presume," Solas shrugged. "The one we need to find..."
The breach was pouring demons into the mortal realm - it was a beach in the Veil similar to those that Wolf encountered before, but much larger and more active. There seemed to be an army of first-rate demons on the other side, queueing to invade, hungry for mortal souls. Whoever opened the breach, was clearly in command of them.
The Chantry's soldiers arrived, and together with Cassandra, Solas and Varric they managed to keep the demons occupied well enough so that Wolf could use the mark on his hand to close the breach. It took a long time and many interruptions, he got knocked out a few times but Solas always brought him back, and eventually the breach was closed and demons defeated, with the vortex retreating into the clouds, but still leaving a large "hole in the sky" for all to see. Wolf did not remember how the battle ended. He woke up several days later in a cabin in Haven. It was time to see what kind of trouble he was in.
...
"My Lord! You are awake!" A servant entered the cabin just as Wolf woke up. She was carrying a parcel which she dropped in surprise. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing, My Lord Saviour!" She dropped to her knees bowing deeply.
"Err... what..?" Wolf sat up. "Why are you afraid?"
"I said the wrong thing, My Lord! Lady Cassandra said to tell her at once... At once! She said: at once!"
"Tell her what?" Wolf wasn't sure who was more confused - he or the servant.
"To tell her when you wake. To tell you to go see her in the Chantry! At once, she said! At once!"
And with that the girl ran off. "If she was afraid of Lady Cassandra..." Wolf thought, "well, that I can understand. But what's this with Lord Saviour?"
He left the cabin and made his way to the Chantry. Wherever he went, he heard the same whispers calling him Lord Saviour. He looked up at the sky and saw the "hole" still there, but there was no vortex and no demons were pouring out of it. The word must have gotten out that he closed the breach. He smirked and entered the Chantry.
"Ah, there you are!" Cassandra greeted him. "Come, I shall introduce you to the Inquisition."
"Err... I don't want to meet the Inquisition!" Wolf backed off. "I am already being blamed for something I didn't do, and no amount of torture will get any more information out of me because there's nothing to tell! I didn't do it! I don't know what this green thing on my hand is, I am no Lord Saviour and I want it all gone!"
"Ah, but you misunderstand," Cassandra softened her tone and smiled. "After you closed the breach with your mark, you passed out. We brought you here and you were thrashing for three days... A lot changed during that time. The Inquisition is a new Order meant to get to the truth and restore order in the land, and you are to lead us. You will be the Inquisitor. Lord Saviour is what the people took to calling you. Or should I say Lord Warden-Commander?" She smirked at his surprise. "Come, Commander. Let me introduce you to those few who do not yet know who you are..."
They entered a room at the back of the Chantry. A large map of Thedas was laid out on the table and three people stood looking at it - three people two of whom Wolf already knew.
"It was about time you woke up," a woman in a headscarf looked at him with apprehension. "We need you alive, you know, Warden."
"Leliana?" Wolf thought he recognised the young Chantry Sister in this rather mysterious looking veiled lady. "It's been a while!"
"That it has, that it has," she nodded, pushing back her headscarf. "The Maker calls us again to his side."
"I'm not sure it's the Maker," Wolf gave her a long look expecting yet another religious lecture.
"Oh but it is, even if you don't see it yet," she smiled.
"Leliana is our Spy Master," Cassandra put in.
"Yes, I thought as much," Wolf nodded.
"And this is..."
"...Knight-Commander Cullen," Wolf finished Cassandra's sentence. "Do you remember the Circle Tower, Commander? Of course you weren't a Knight-Commander then..."
"News travels fast," Cullen smiled. "Good to see you Wardens are paying attention. Yes, I remember... every detail," he gave Wolf a meaningful look. "But I am just a Commander now, I quit the templars Order as of last night. I lead the Inquisition forces. That is, a bunch of untrained youngsters outside... err... but we'll get them trained up, not to worry."
"And finally, the one person you don't know: Lady Josephine Montilyet, our diplomatic liaison and ambassador," Cassandra presented a lady at the table.
"Happy to make your acquaintance, Lord Warden-Commander," Lady Montilyet inclined her head. "I've heard so much about you."
"I hope that's just a turn of phrase, My Lady," Wolf bowed. "I thank you for the introductions. I would prefer to be referred to as Lord Inquisitor or Lord Saviour if you must, rather than Lord Warden-Commander. This is not the Order of the Grey, and thus that title is inappropriate."
"As you wish, Lord Trevelyan," Lady Montilyet made a note on her pad. "Shall we perhaps just call you that? Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches? That's what your papers say."
"Indeed," Wolf smiled. "That was my title but I gave it up when I joined Grey Wardens, as duty dictates. Lord Inquisitor will do."
With introductions out of the way, Wolf hoped to be excused, but Cassandra insisted on discussing strategy and what to do next. They could not agree on anything other than the fact that they could not agree and had nothing to go on. Finally Cassandra had had enough.
"Alright, so what do you think, Lord Warden-Commander?" She glared at Wolf. "You could have told me who you were right from the start! That would have saved us some time!"
"You never asked who I was, you kept calling me 'prisoner', remember, Lady Cassandra?" Wolf smiled at her. "I think we should go where the action is, that is, where we see the heaviest fighting. The mage-templar war is the key. It is clear why mages rebelled, but not why templars turned on the Chantry. I do not like red lyrium and I don't understand how it fits in. That's what Grey Wardens would do. But you are the Inquisition, bound to your faith and the Chantry. You tell me which way to proceed."
"By your lead, Lord Inquisitor," Cassandra inclined her head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Tell me why I should not kill you now," a tall slender woman with a Nevarran accent spoke sharply. "Explain this!" She turned Wolf's palm upwards and an acid green mark shone from it.
"Eh... I told you - I don't know what this is," Wolf replied with a tired voice. "We've been over it a dozen times already, and my answer is not going to change." He was sitting in the middle of a round "interrogation room", he was cuffed and bound. He didn't remember how he got there, he thought he was in the Fade... but the place he was in didn't resemble the Fade and the woman seemed too real to be a mere spirit.
"Still no luck?" Another woman walked in.
"He is denying everything!" The Nevarran woman scowled.
"Well, if you give him to me, we have ways..." The other woman rolled her eyes, paying more attention to the Nevarran than to the prisoner.
"No," the Nevarran shook her head. "Solas thinks he may be useful even so. We are going to test it."
"Oh alright, if you must..." the other woman left, not sparing Wolf another glance.
"Come with me," the Nevarran cut the ties around Wolf's ankles and removed his cuffs. "Don't try anything, I am watching you!" She glared. She was clearly not a woman to cross. "This way."
They were still in Haven. The air was crisp as ever, but something was wrong. A giant acid green vortex rose from one of the mountain peaks - that with the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Smaller vortices were visible in several other locations. The woman was directing Wolf to one of these smaller vortices.
"This is your doing!" The Nevarran said angrily to Wolf. "The conclave is destroyed! Everyone is dead! The temple is in ruins! What kind of magic did you use there? What kind of explosives? The guards remember you sneaking around the place! Where are your co-conspirators? Answer me!!!" She pushed him against a wall of rock, her face contorted with rage.
"You haven't killed me yet, so you still need me for something," Wolf smiled pleasantly.
"Ugh!" The woman let go of him and pushed him further up the hill.
Demons rose from the ground blocking their way.
"Get behind me!!" The Nevarran ordered Wolf and charged the nearest demon.
"Well, hello, darlings, long time no see," Wolf muttered, looking around. Fallen soldiers were all over the place, he grabbed a sword and a dagger and faced a demon of his own.
"Drop your weapons!!!" The Nevarran dispatched her demon and turned on Wolf. "Now!!!!"
"Fine, have it your way," Wolf shrugged and tossed his weapons to the ground. "Where to next?"
"Hmm... No... you need that," the Nevarran sighed. "There are more demons ahead, and I need you alive. Pick that up. You go first. Hands where I can see them!!" She added menacingly.
They didn't have far to go, one of the acid green vortices was up ahead. Demons were all around it, and so they joined the fighting. Then, suddenly, an elven mage grabbed Wolf by the wrist pointing the mark on his hand at the vortex. The vortex responded, twisted and spun, then collapsed on itself and vanished.
"As I suspected," the elf said with satisfaction letting go of Wolf's hand. "This will close the rifts."
"So he's the one responsible!" The Nevarran woman exclaimed, her sword at Wolf's throat.
"No, he is not," the elf replied flatly. "He simply got caught up in the explosion, survived... somehow... and got that souvenir from it. It reacts to the rifts, that is all. He is the solution, not the problem."
"And here I was, thinking we'd be ass deep in demons forever," a dwarf stepped forward. "Varric's the name. Rogue, storyteller and an occasional tug-along, at your service," he grinned and winked.
"Absolutely not!!" The Nevarran woman looked very angry. "Our forces..."
"Your forces are thin on the ground, decimated by the mage-templar fighting and unable to hold even the smallest of villages. This calls for a different team altogether. You need me, Seeker." Varric folded his arms.
Seeker? Wolf looked at the Nevarran woman with interest, only now noticing the crest on her shield and armour: the sun overlaid with an ever-seeing eye and a sword. The Order of Seekers of Truth, the ones that stood above the templars and the Chantry.
"Ugh! But you may be right," she scoffed. "I am Cassandra Pentaghast, a Seeker of the Chantry," she introduced herself to Wolf. "What is your name, prisoner?"
"Prisoner?" Wolf smirked. "Oh yes. Would you like to cut off my hand, Seeker? That's the only part of me that you actually care about, it seems."
"That won't do," the elven mage interfered. "You have to stay alive, with the hand attached."
"Unfortunately," Cassandra grimaced, baring her teeth. "So, what is your name?"
"Wolf," Wolf mirrored her grimace. "At your service."
"Well, I am Solas," the elf said, clearly amused by the confrontation.
"An apostate!" Cassandra bared her teeth at Solas as well.
"An apostate who knows more about the Fade than any Circle mage ever hoped to," Solas said soothingly. "You need me, Cassandra."
"Let's go," Cassandra looked at each of them, shaking her head. "The mark worked. Wolf stays with us."
She started marching back to the camp and the others followed. "She doesn't like it but she understands the necessity," Wolf was thinking watching her determined walk. "And Varric didn't mention we've met... I won't be able to keep it a secret as to who I am, of course... It's a small world... I wonder who else we'll meet and why Varric is here..."
"Ah, there you are!" A cleric turned around hearing them approach. He had been argueing with someone. "I order you to put this prisoner in chains straight away and prepare him for execution!" He barked at Cassandra.
"You order me?!" She smirked. "You are a glorified clerk! You cannot order me to do anything, Lord Chancellor, and you know it!"
"And you are a thug, nothing more!" The cleric retorted. "In so-called service to the Chantry, Seeker!" He spat that title like it was a swear.
"So no one here is in charge," Wolf watched that exchange with amusement.
"You killed everyone in charge!!!" The cleric spat.
"We shall go and close the breach," Cassandra changed the topic, pointing at the big vortex over the mountain top. "His mark worked on the small one."
"He should be in chains, executed! Not going anywhere! You won't be able to close that breach anyway!!" The cleric exploded with objections, but Cassandra simply turned away.
"Come on. We'll go through the mountains, it is the most direct route," Cassandra was ready to set off.
"No, take the troops and go from the front," a woman objected. "You need him alive, and this will be safer." Her voice seemed familiar, but Wolf was already following Cassandra. Nobody seemed to agree with anybody else on anything here. So rather than trying to figure it out, he focused on staying alive.
...
The big vortex, or the breach as they called it, was located exactly above the Temple of Sacred Ashes, or rather the ruin that it had become. The Veil was thin there, as was evident from all the echoes of past events that they saw and heard. Red lyrium crystals were everywhere, covering remnants of walls and columns. The vision of a woman on a flaming crucifix was the strongest of all.
"What is going on here?!" Wolf heard his own voice.
"We have an intruder! Kill him!!" A booming voice replied.
"Run! Run while you can..!"
"That was Divine Justinia!" Cassandra exclaimed. "And you ran in when it was already too late... You didn't do it then!"
"But who was the man with the booming voice?" Varric wondered.
"The one who caused the explosion, I would presume," Solas shrugged. "The one we need to find..."
The breach was pouring demons into the mortal realm - it was a beach in the Veil similar to those that Wolf encountered before, but much larger and more active. There seemed to be an army of first-rate demons on the other side, queueing to invade, hungry for mortal souls. Whoever opened the breach, was clearly in command of them.
The Chantry's soldiers arrived, and together with Cassandra, Solas and Varric they managed to keep the demons occupied well enough so that Wolf could use the mark on his hand to close the breach. It took a long time and many interruptions, he got knocked out a few times but Solas always brought him back, and eventually the breach was closed and demons defeated, with the vortex retreating into the clouds, but still leaving a large "hole in the sky" for all to see. Wolf did not remember how the battle ended. He woke up several days later in a cabin in Haven. It was time to see what kind of trouble he was in.
...
"My Lord! You are awake!" A servant entered the cabin just as Wolf woke up. She was carrying a parcel which she dropped in surprise. "I beg your forgiveness and your blessing, My Lord Saviour!" She dropped to her knees bowing deeply.
"Err... what..?" Wolf sat up. "Why are you afraid?"
"I said the wrong thing, My Lord! Lady Cassandra said to tell her at once... At once! She said: at once!"
"Tell her what?" Wolf wasn't sure who was more confused - he or the servant.
"To tell her when you wake. To tell you to go see her in the Chantry! At once, she said! At once!"
And with that the girl ran off. "If she was afraid of Lady Cassandra..." Wolf thought, "well, that I can understand. But what's this with Lord Saviour?"
He left the cabin and made his way to the Chantry. Wherever he went, he heard the same whispers calling him Lord Saviour. He looked up at the sky and saw the "hole" still there, but there was no vortex and no demons were pouring out of it. The word must have gotten out that he closed the breach. He smirked and entered the Chantry.
"Ah, there you are!" Cassandra greeted him. "Come, I shall introduce you to the Inquisition."
"Err... I don't want to meet the Inquisition!" Wolf backed off. "I am already being blamed for something I didn't do, and no amount of torture will get any more information out of me because there's nothing to tell! I didn't do it! I don't know what this green thing on my hand is, I am no Lord Saviour and I want it all gone!"
"Ah, but you misunderstand," Cassandra softened her tone and smiled. "After you closed the breach with your mark, you passed out. We brought you here and you were thrashing for three days... A lot changed during that time. The Inquisition is a new Order meant to get to the truth and restore order in the land, and you are to lead us. You will be the Inquisitor. Lord Saviour is what the people took to calling you. Or should I say Lord Warden-Commander?" She smirked at his surprise. "Come, Commander. Let me introduce you to those few who do not yet know who you are..."
They entered a room at the back of the Chantry. A large map of Thedas was laid out on the table and three people stood looking at it - three people two of whom Wolf already knew.
"It was about time you woke up," a woman in a headscarf looked at him with apprehension. "We need you alive, you know, Warden."
"Leliana?" Wolf thought he recognised the young Chantry Sister in this rather mysterious looking veiled lady. "It's been a while!"
"That it has, that it has," she nodded, pushing back her headscarf. "The Maker calls us again to his side."
"I'm not sure it's the Maker," Wolf gave her a long look expecting yet another religious lecture.
"Oh but it is, even if you don't see it yet," she smiled.
"Leliana is our Spy Master," Cassandra put in.
"Yes, I thought as much," Wolf nodded.
"And this is..."
"...Knight-Commander Cullen," Wolf finished Cassandra's sentence. "Do you remember the Circle Tower, Commander? Of course you weren't a Knight-Commander then..."
"News travels fast," Cullen smiled. "Good to see you Wardens are paying attention. Yes, I remember... every detail," he gave Wolf a meaningful look. "But I am just a Commander now, I quit the templars Order as of last night. I lead the Inquisition forces. That is, a bunch of untrained youngsters outside... err... but we'll get them trained up, not to worry."
"And finally, the one person you don't know: Lady Josephine Montilyet, our diplomatic liaison and ambassador," Cassandra presented a lady at the table.
"Happy to make your acquaintance, Lord Warden-Commander," Lady Montilyet inclined her head. "I've heard so much about you."
"I hope that's just a turn of phrase, My Lady," Wolf bowed. "I thank you for the introductions. I would prefer to be referred to as Lord Inquisitor or Lord Saviour if you must, rather than Lord Warden-Commander. This is not the Order of the Grey, and thus that title is inappropriate."
"As you wish, Lord Trevelyan," Lady Montilyet made a note on her pad. "Shall we perhaps just call you that? Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches? That's what your papers say."
"Indeed," Wolf smiled. "That was my title but I gave it up when I joined Grey Wardens, as duty dictates. Lord Inquisitor will do."
With introductions out of the way, Wolf hoped to be excused, but Cassandra insisted on discussing strategy and what to do next. They could not agree on anything other than the fact that they could not agree and had nothing to go on. Finally Cassandra had had enough.
"Alright, so what do you think, Lord Warden-Commander?" She glared at Wolf. "You could have told me who you were right from the start! That would have saved us some time!"
"You never asked who I was, you kept calling me 'prisoner', remember, Lady Cassandra?" Wolf smiled at her. "I think we should go where the action is, that is, where we see the heaviest fighting. The mage-templar war is the key. It is clear why mages rebelled, but not why templars turned on the Chantry. I do not like red lyrium and I don't understand how it fits in. That's what Grey Wardens would do. But you are the Inquisition, bound to your faith and the Chantry. You tell me which way to proceed."
"By your lead, Lord Inquisitor," Cassandra inclined her head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hearthfire, 3E398 - Lords and Ladies
"Bloody lords and ladies everywhere," Wolf was cursing under his breath as he was leaving the Chantry after all the introductions. "Lord Inquisitor my foot!" He cursed again. "How did I even get mixed up in this..?"
The village of Haven was transformed into a camp housing Inquisition troops. In truth, it wasn't much different to what it was like when Wolf saw it for the first time - the cultists formed armed militia which included just about every inhabitant of the village. Haven was regaining its original purpose, it seemed, that of a military camp. Wolf spotted Varric talking to some locals and decided to say hello.
"Now that Cassandra is out of earshot, how are you holding up?" Varric smiled amicably. "I didn't want to say anything about you, but of course they found out anyway."
"Yeah, I would have been surprised if they didn't," Wolf nodded. "It's been rather crazy, I won't pretend otherwise. I've never had so many titles before. Or was surrounded by so many entitled people..." He smirked.
"Welcome to the Chantry, my friend!" Varric caught his sarcasm. "I daresay things will get a lot less complicated out in the field though."
"I was surprised to find you here, I didn't remember you as a particularly devoted sort," Wolf smiled.
"Oh, I didn't come willingly, if that's what you mean," Varric smirked. "No, the trouble with the Chantry started already back in Kirkwall, the templars had already quit, which is why the Chantry finally kicked into action. They lost their precious guards! The Inquisition was established by the last Divine, and Cassandra has been harassing people for a while already... myself included. Remember Hawke? Well, he stood out during the mage rebellion in Kirkwall which was the first important rebellion... and so Cassandra wanted to 'talk' to him... except that Hawke left Kirkwall a few years ago, nobody knows why or where he went. He probably just had enough of it all... wouldn't blame him if he did. Anyway... I wrote a book about those events... you do remember that I write books, right? Yes, they are fiction, but the backdrop is often real. So Hawke was a part of the backdrop for one of my stories, and Cassandra decided that since she could not find Hawke, I was the next best thing. I got dragged here, had to tell her all I knew... well, most of it, anyway," he winked. "A writer never tells everything he knows... But anyhow she believed me for some reason and wanted me to retell it to the Divine. That never happened however because someone again blew up the Chantry... It is getting rather repetitive, if you ask me," he smirked. "I don't need to ask what you were doing here. Observation, right?"
"Yes, actually," Wolf smiled and nodded. "We didn't want to get involved but of course we needed to know what was happening, and know it first-hand. They didn't let us in, but hey, we knew a way around... We were not far from the halls where the talks were held when someone blew up the Chantry, as you put it. We just saw rubble and debris flying in all directions. I was going first... I saw a woman on a flaming crucifix - like in that echo we've seen near the breach. I rushed towards her... hmm... and then I don't know."
"Sounds about right," Varric nodded. "We'll have to unravel this. I'm here for the duration - I wouldn't miss it for anything. Plus, that hole in the sky does need fixing, and your glowing hand seems to be the key. What of the other Wardens? What is your Order going to do?" He squinted at Wolf.
"The Order is less dependent on its Warden-Commander than you might think," Wolf smiled. "I am only a regional Commander anyway. Someone will take over until I return, if I return. I haven't heard from them yet, but I expect they'll be in touch when there are fewer lords and ladies around..."
"I've heard of the title circus, yes, Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches," Varric grinned. "Didn't realise that's where you were born. Your accent seems a bit... off."
"I guess I was a bastard son," Wolf grinned back. "Sent away and hidden and such... Got the wrong accent from the nursemaid, no doubt."
"Aha... and I am the Queen of Antiva," Varric laughed. "But I won't press."
Talking to Varric put Wolf in much better spirits, and after touring the village a bit more, he decided to return to his hut for a bit of rest. He wasn't unwell exactly, but he was far from being at his best and needed to regain his form if there was fighting to be done. As it was, his shield and sword felt heavy and awkward.
"Finally, you return," a voice behind him made him spin. "You forgot to check behind the door as I keep telling you," Zevran stood there, smiling. "But I am glad to see you on your feet again, my friend."
"Zevran!" Wolf should not have been surprised. "Tell me what happened."
"Well, nothing much happened besides what you already know," Zevran shrugged, sitting down by the fire. "You ran into that explosion and we lost sight of you. That hall kind of vanished... got covered in fog or mist or something like that... Anders says it was a rip in the Veil and we were still in the mortal world but you and the others in the hall got swallowed into the Fade. Anders wanted to run after you but Alistair stopped him. Alistair hasn't been saying much about that... I think his templar soul is taking over. He assumed command of the Ferelden chapter for now, that is, the others had him assume command... I daresay you'll meet him along the way. He plans to watch the Inquisition knowing that you're leading it, and he wants to try explore things from his end... All Grey Wardens are having nightmares and headaches, I am not a Grey Warden of course, but what about you? What does your tainted blood do to you? That green thing on your hand is probably messing it up, too."
"I have plenty of nightmares but not of the usual kind," Wolf nodded. "Confusing, if anything. I expect you're right about this mark," he turned up his palm. "It looks just like the rifts that it closes... Rips in the Veil, you say? That figures. Well, then it is... what? A piece of the Veil? Some magic or other... I think it blots out the taint completely, in fact. I'd have to test it next time we run into darkspawn..."
"You have to leave your chivalry behind and switch to daggers and poison," Zevran suddenly looked serious. "You're going where the fighting is, if I know you at all. That's bad business. Mages and templars fighting, with you caught in the middle. You need dexterity and grace instead of brute force and frontal attacks."
"When was I ever favouring frontal attacks?" Wolf laughed. "But I see what you mean. These are not genlocks and hurlocks, these are people. Smarter, more skilled and flexible, too. Stealth, then. You'll need to train me, Zev."
"That's why I am here," Zevran smiled. "We start tomorrow."
...
"Who is the assassin you've been training with?" Cassandra approached Wolf when he was alone. "The Inquisition cannot be associated with assassins!"
"Can it not? Well, that's too bad," Wolf shrugged. "Zevran is a close friend of mine, we've been through thick and thin together and more darkspawn that I care to remember. Just ask Leliana - she knows him."
"Leliana knows him?" Cassandra squinted. "She didn't say..."
"Leliana is a spymaster for a reason," Wolf grinned. "She says little, even to her friends like yourself. But I've known her before she became a spymaster..."
"Interesting," Cassandra sat back. "Leliana never talks about her past."
"She wouldn't be a good spymaster otherwise," Wolf nodded. "And while we're talking... Can we drop the Lord and Lady titles, please? I knew Cullen when he was just... well... You ask Cullen about that. But none of us were lords or ladies then. Josephine is the only new person here, besides yourself, Lady Cassandra."
"I never presented myself as Lady Cassandra," she objected. "Titles get in the way, I agree. But Inquisition must have the favour of nobility, or else we won't get anywhere. And that means titles, including yours, Lord Trevelyan. Tell me about yourself."
"Well, what do you want to know?" Wolf squinted. "You know who I am already..."
"Lord Warden-Commander, yes," Cassandra nodded. "That isn't much, however. Grey Wardens are shrouded in mystery. Your accent is not from the Free Marches."
"Oh, that story... Well, rumour has it that I am a bastard son who's been sent away at birth and raised by some foreign nursemaid, but of course once I became Lord Warden-Commander, the Trevelyans suddenly remembered that I belonged to their clan... Hence the title. But I don't actually know any of them and they are not my family in the sense of family life. Does that satisfy you, Lady Cassandra?"
"It will do for Josephine," Cassandra sighed. "Very well, I won't press."
"Give it time, Cassandra," Wolf said quietly in her ear and she jerked slightly. "I want to know a lot of things about you too. But it's too early. We are still Lords and Ladies for now."
She gave him a long look and a barely perceptible smile.
...
"You fight like a rogue and an assassin," Cassandra rose from a knock-out after a protracted battle with mages and templars at once. "You don't fight like a Grey Warden."
"Grey Wardens don't have a particular fighting style," Wolf objected, helping her up. "I, however, did not get knocked out."
"Because I charged that warrior!"
"Because Solas froze him solid," Wolf corrected her. "I can charge too. I can use a sword and a shield, but my friend the assassin insisted I switch to daggers. It appears that he was right."
"There's a Grey Warden in the area by the name of Blackwall," Varric was reading a message delivered by a scout. "Do you know him? Leliana wants us to track him down."
"I don't know every Grey Warden in Thedas!" Wolf laughed. "Never heard of him. What does Leliana want with him?"
"It appears that all Grey Wardens have vanished," Varric kept reading the message. "And Leliana is concerned... for some reason or other..." He looked up at Wolf searching.
"Well... I see... Leliana's opinion may be a bit... coloured," Wolf grinned. "Alright, alright - we didn't get along!" He shook his head as if shrugging off questioning glances of his companions. "I am not a religious type! So there! But still, if the spymistress tells us to track down this Blackwall, then that's what we should do."
"I am glad you can rise above your personal feelings," Cassandra smiled.
"Yeah, let's hope Leliana can too," Wolf scoffed and turned away.
They were "in the field", and titles indeed got dropped. Wolf insisted that his companions should not address him as "Warden" because he was there on behalf of the Inquisition, not Grey Wardens. So they settled on calling him "Wolf" in the end, that being his name.
They found Blackwall fighting off bandits who attacked refugees. He was leading three young "conscripts" whom he was trying to teach how to fight.
"Warden Blackwall?" Wolf approached him once the bandits were defeated. "If I may have a word."
Blackwall was a seasoned fighter, probably a soldier, as Wolf realised watching him fight. He'd had a lot of training and experience. His armour and shield had Grey Warden crests, yet something about him was off. "His blood isn't tainted," Wolf suddenly realised. "This is not a Grey Warden." The question was then who he was and what he was really doing there.
"Grey Wardens have disappeared, you say?" Blackwall sounded surprised when Wolf told him that. "Well, that is strange but I would not know. With the Archdemon dead, the Order is not as visible as before. My job is solitary - I am recruiting. Of course, with the mage-templar war all around us, this mostly means I'm fighting whoever is attacking peasants and refugees, be it mages, templars, bandits or demons... Thank goodness there's no darkspawn as well in that mix. I am not in contact with the Head Quarters, and that's by design. If there's a new directive, I haven't had it, but it is hardly surprising."
"I see..." Wolf looked him over. The peasants and refugees that they talked to previously, did speak highly of him, he seemed to be doing good... Grey Warden or no Grey Warden. Perhaps he had a claim to that title after all... Perhaps he didn't have a chance to go through the Joining. Wolf decided to give him the benefit of a doubt, as well as keep him close. "Well, why don't you join us then," he offered. "We can do more good together. We want to stop the war."
The matter was thus settled. Blackwall immediately revealed that he had copies of ancient Grey Warden treaties obliging various groups to render aid during a Blight; he also had maps showing Grey Warden camps throughout Thedas, claiming that every Grey Warden with a similar solitary assignment was given such maps to help them in their duties. Wolf listened in slight disbelief - Blackwall certainly didn't get them from him or from the Ferelden chapter. So who was he? It would not take long before Blackwall knew who Wolf was, however, and so Wolf decided to act without delay. He took Blackwall aside and out of earshot of the others for a little private chat.
"You are no Grey Warden, Blackwall," Wolf decided on a direct approach. "Your name is probably not Blackwall either. Explain yourself."
"What..? How did you..?" Blackwall was taken aback. "Who are you?"
"I am Lord Inquisitor," Wolf glared at him. "So, let's hear it."
"Blackwall was a Grey Warden from Orlais," the fake Blackwall confessed. "He conscripted me. We were preparing for the Joining when he fell in battle... to protect me," he shook his head. "I did not kill him, I swear!" He looked disturbed, and for some reason Wolf believed him. "The maps and the treaties are his," he continued. "As is the armour... I took his name, too... He wasn't supposed to report back, he was out in the field conscripting... just like I told you about my duties."
"You will soon learn who I am," Wolf spoke slowly. "Yet I am not here in that capacity. You will stay with the Inquisition. If we meet any other Grey Wardens, your only chance to avoid their wrath is to say that you are with me. Do you understand?"
"I do, Warden," fake Blackwall nodded. "Blackwall never explained in detail what the Joining entailed... I never met any other Grey Wardens until now... because I stayed out of the way... I did not realise they'd know I wasn't one of them."
"Yeah, the crest is in our blood, not on our armour," Wolf smirked. "I am watching you, Blackwall."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Bloody lords and ladies everywhere," Wolf was cursing under his breath as he was leaving the Chantry after all the introductions. "Lord Inquisitor my foot!" He cursed again. "How did I even get mixed up in this..?"
The village of Haven was transformed into a camp housing Inquisition troops. In truth, it wasn't much different to what it was like when Wolf saw it for the first time - the cultists formed armed militia which included just about every inhabitant of the village. Haven was regaining its original purpose, it seemed, that of a military camp. Wolf spotted Varric talking to some locals and decided to say hello.
"Now that Cassandra is out of earshot, how are you holding up?" Varric smiled amicably. "I didn't want to say anything about you, but of course they found out anyway."
"Yeah, I would have been surprised if they didn't," Wolf nodded. "It's been rather crazy, I won't pretend otherwise. I've never had so many titles before. Or was surrounded by so many entitled people..." He smirked.
"Welcome to the Chantry, my friend!" Varric caught his sarcasm. "I daresay things will get a lot less complicated out in the field though."
"I was surprised to find you here, I didn't remember you as a particularly devoted sort," Wolf smiled.
"Oh, I didn't come willingly, if that's what you mean," Varric smirked. "No, the trouble with the Chantry started already back in Kirkwall, the templars had already quit, which is why the Chantry finally kicked into action. They lost their precious guards! The Inquisition was established by the last Divine, and Cassandra has been harassing people for a while already... myself included. Remember Hawke? Well, he stood out during the mage rebellion in Kirkwall which was the first important rebellion... and so Cassandra wanted to 'talk' to him... except that Hawke left Kirkwall a few years ago, nobody knows why or where he went. He probably just had enough of it all... wouldn't blame him if he did. Anyway... I wrote a book about those events... you do remember that I write books, right? Yes, they are fiction, but the backdrop is often real. So Hawke was a part of the backdrop for one of my stories, and Cassandra decided that since she could not find Hawke, I was the next best thing. I got dragged here, had to tell her all I knew... well, most of it, anyway," he winked. "A writer never tells everything he knows... But anyhow she believed me for some reason and wanted me to retell it to the Divine. That never happened however because someone again blew up the Chantry... It is getting rather repetitive, if you ask me," he smirked. "I don't need to ask what you were doing here. Observation, right?"
"Yes, actually," Wolf smiled and nodded. "We didn't want to get involved but of course we needed to know what was happening, and know it first-hand. They didn't let us in, but hey, we knew a way around... We were not far from the halls where the talks were held when someone blew up the Chantry, as you put it. We just saw rubble and debris flying in all directions. I was going first... I saw a woman on a flaming crucifix - like in that echo we've seen near the breach. I rushed towards her... hmm... and then I don't know."
"Sounds about right," Varric nodded. "We'll have to unravel this. I'm here for the duration - I wouldn't miss it for anything. Plus, that hole in the sky does need fixing, and your glowing hand seems to be the key. What of the other Wardens? What is your Order going to do?" He squinted at Wolf.
"The Order is less dependent on its Warden-Commander than you might think," Wolf smiled. "I am only a regional Commander anyway. Someone will take over until I return, if I return. I haven't heard from them yet, but I expect they'll be in touch when there are fewer lords and ladies around..."
"I've heard of the title circus, yes, Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches," Varric grinned. "Didn't realise that's where you were born. Your accent seems a bit... off."
"I guess I was a bastard son," Wolf grinned back. "Sent away and hidden and such... Got the wrong accent from the nursemaid, no doubt."
"Aha... and I am the Queen of Antiva," Varric laughed. "But I won't press."
Talking to Varric put Wolf in much better spirits, and after touring the village a bit more, he decided to return to his hut for a bit of rest. He wasn't unwell exactly, but he was far from being at his best and needed to regain his form if there was fighting to be done. As it was, his shield and sword felt heavy and awkward.
"Finally, you return," a voice behind him made him spin. "You forgot to check behind the door as I keep telling you," Zevran stood there, smiling. "But I am glad to see you on your feet again, my friend."
"Zevran!" Wolf should not have been surprised. "Tell me what happened."
"Well, nothing much happened besides what you already know," Zevran shrugged, sitting down by the fire. "You ran into that explosion and we lost sight of you. That hall kind of vanished... got covered in fog or mist or something like that... Anders says it was a rip in the Veil and we were still in the mortal world but you and the others in the hall got swallowed into the Fade. Anders wanted to run after you but Alistair stopped him. Alistair hasn't been saying much about that... I think his templar soul is taking over. He assumed command of the Ferelden chapter for now, that is, the others had him assume command... I daresay you'll meet him along the way. He plans to watch the Inquisition knowing that you're leading it, and he wants to try explore things from his end... All Grey Wardens are having nightmares and headaches, I am not a Grey Warden of course, but what about you? What does your tainted blood do to you? That green thing on your hand is probably messing it up, too."
"I have plenty of nightmares but not of the usual kind," Wolf nodded. "Confusing, if anything. I expect you're right about this mark," he turned up his palm. "It looks just like the rifts that it closes... Rips in the Veil, you say? That figures. Well, then it is... what? A piece of the Veil? Some magic or other... I think it blots out the taint completely, in fact. I'd have to test it next time we run into darkspawn..."
"You have to leave your chivalry behind and switch to daggers and poison," Zevran suddenly looked serious. "You're going where the fighting is, if I know you at all. That's bad business. Mages and templars fighting, with you caught in the middle. You need dexterity and grace instead of brute force and frontal attacks."
"When was I ever favouring frontal attacks?" Wolf laughed. "But I see what you mean. These are not genlocks and hurlocks, these are people. Smarter, more skilled and flexible, too. Stealth, then. You'll need to train me, Zev."
"That's why I am here," Zevran smiled. "We start tomorrow."
...
"Who is the assassin you've been training with?" Cassandra approached Wolf when he was alone. "The Inquisition cannot be associated with assassins!"
"Can it not? Well, that's too bad," Wolf shrugged. "Zevran is a close friend of mine, we've been through thick and thin together and more darkspawn that I care to remember. Just ask Leliana - she knows him."
"Leliana knows him?" Cassandra squinted. "She didn't say..."
"Leliana is a spymaster for a reason," Wolf grinned. "She says little, even to her friends like yourself. But I've known her before she became a spymaster..."
"Interesting," Cassandra sat back. "Leliana never talks about her past."
"She wouldn't be a good spymaster otherwise," Wolf nodded. "And while we're talking... Can we drop the Lord and Lady titles, please? I knew Cullen when he was just... well... You ask Cullen about that. But none of us were lords or ladies then. Josephine is the only new person here, besides yourself, Lady Cassandra."
"I never presented myself as Lady Cassandra," she objected. "Titles get in the way, I agree. But Inquisition must have the favour of nobility, or else we won't get anywhere. And that means titles, including yours, Lord Trevelyan. Tell me about yourself."
"Well, what do you want to know?" Wolf squinted. "You know who I am already..."
"Lord Warden-Commander, yes," Cassandra nodded. "That isn't much, however. Grey Wardens are shrouded in mystery. Your accent is not from the Free Marches."
"Oh, that story... Well, rumour has it that I am a bastard son who's been sent away at birth and raised by some foreign nursemaid, but of course once I became Lord Warden-Commander, the Trevelyans suddenly remembered that I belonged to their clan... Hence the title. But I don't actually know any of them and they are not my family in the sense of family life. Does that satisfy you, Lady Cassandra?"
"It will do for Josephine," Cassandra sighed. "Very well, I won't press."
"Give it time, Cassandra," Wolf said quietly in her ear and she jerked slightly. "I want to know a lot of things about you too. But it's too early. We are still Lords and Ladies for now."
She gave him a long look and a barely perceptible smile.
...
"You fight like a rogue and an assassin," Cassandra rose from a knock-out after a protracted battle with mages and templars at once. "You don't fight like a Grey Warden."
"Grey Wardens don't have a particular fighting style," Wolf objected, helping her up. "I, however, did not get knocked out."
"Because I charged that warrior!"
"Because Solas froze him solid," Wolf corrected her. "I can charge too. I can use a sword and a shield, but my friend the assassin insisted I switch to daggers. It appears that he was right."
"There's a Grey Warden in the area by the name of Blackwall," Varric was reading a message delivered by a scout. "Do you know him? Leliana wants us to track him down."
"I don't know every Grey Warden in Thedas!" Wolf laughed. "Never heard of him. What does Leliana want with him?"
"It appears that all Grey Wardens have vanished," Varric kept reading the message. "And Leliana is concerned... for some reason or other..." He looked up at Wolf searching.
"Well... I see... Leliana's opinion may be a bit... coloured," Wolf grinned. "Alright, alright - we didn't get along!" He shook his head as if shrugging off questioning glances of his companions. "I am not a religious type! So there! But still, if the spymistress tells us to track down this Blackwall, then that's what we should do."
"I am glad you can rise above your personal feelings," Cassandra smiled.
"Yeah, let's hope Leliana can too," Wolf scoffed and turned away.
They were "in the field", and titles indeed got dropped. Wolf insisted that his companions should not address him as "Warden" because he was there on behalf of the Inquisition, not Grey Wardens. So they settled on calling him "Wolf" in the end, that being his name.
They found Blackwall fighting off bandits who attacked refugees. He was leading three young "conscripts" whom he was trying to teach how to fight.
"Warden Blackwall?" Wolf approached him once the bandits were defeated. "If I may have a word."
Blackwall was a seasoned fighter, probably a soldier, as Wolf realised watching him fight. He'd had a lot of training and experience. His armour and shield had Grey Warden crests, yet something about him was off. "His blood isn't tainted," Wolf suddenly realised. "This is not a Grey Warden." The question was then who he was and what he was really doing there.
"Grey Wardens have disappeared, you say?" Blackwall sounded surprised when Wolf told him that. "Well, that is strange but I would not know. With the Archdemon dead, the Order is not as visible as before. My job is solitary - I am recruiting. Of course, with the mage-templar war all around us, this mostly means I'm fighting whoever is attacking peasants and refugees, be it mages, templars, bandits or demons... Thank goodness there's no darkspawn as well in that mix. I am not in contact with the Head Quarters, and that's by design. If there's a new directive, I haven't had it, but it is hardly surprising."
"I see..." Wolf looked him over. The peasants and refugees that they talked to previously, did speak highly of him, he seemed to be doing good... Grey Warden or no Grey Warden. Perhaps he had a claim to that title after all... Perhaps he didn't have a chance to go through the Joining. Wolf decided to give him the benefit of a doubt, as well as keep him close. "Well, why don't you join us then," he offered. "We can do more good together. We want to stop the war."
The matter was thus settled. Blackwall immediately revealed that he had copies of ancient Grey Warden treaties obliging various groups to render aid during a Blight; he also had maps showing Grey Warden camps throughout Thedas, claiming that every Grey Warden with a similar solitary assignment was given such maps to help them in their duties. Wolf listened in slight disbelief - Blackwall certainly didn't get them from him or from the Ferelden chapter. So who was he? It would not take long before Blackwall knew who Wolf was, however, and so Wolf decided to act without delay. He took Blackwall aside and out of earshot of the others for a little private chat.
"You are no Grey Warden, Blackwall," Wolf decided on a direct approach. "Your name is probably not Blackwall either. Explain yourself."
"What..? How did you..?" Blackwall was taken aback. "Who are you?"
"I am Lord Inquisitor," Wolf glared at him. "So, let's hear it."
"Blackwall was a Grey Warden from Orlais," the fake Blackwall confessed. "He conscripted me. We were preparing for the Joining when he fell in battle... to protect me," he shook his head. "I did not kill him, I swear!" He looked disturbed, and for some reason Wolf believed him. "The maps and the treaties are his," he continued. "As is the armour... I took his name, too... He wasn't supposed to report back, he was out in the field conscripting... just like I told you about my duties."
"You will soon learn who I am," Wolf spoke slowly. "Yet I am not here in that capacity. You will stay with the Inquisition. If we meet any other Grey Wardens, your only chance to avoid their wrath is to say that you are with me. Do you understand?"
"I do, Warden," fake Blackwall nodded. "Blackwall never explained in detail what the Joining entailed... I never met any other Grey Wardens until now... because I stayed out of the way... I did not realise they'd know I wasn't one of them."
"Yeah, the crest is in our blood, not on our armour," Wolf smirked. "I am watching you, Blackwall."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frostfall, 3E398 - An obvious alliance
"We have to close the breach, and to that end we need to strengthen the magic in your mark," Cassandra pointed at the mark on Wolf's hand. "That means we have to recruit a lot more mages."
"And have them destroy heaven and earth in the process!" Cullen interjected hotly. "What we need is a lot more templars to suppress the magic of the breach - that'll seal it!"
"Have you talked to any of the templars lately?" Cassandra glared at him. "They've gone mad! It started already in Kirkwall! It was their fault that the mages were driven to extremes! They did it!"
"Cassandra!" Cullen got red in the face. "You are a templar yourself! How can you turn on your brethren like that?!"
"I am a Seeker!" Cassandra cut him off. "We are meant to stand above mages and templars both! We looked the other way when trouble in Kirkwall was only just beginning - we assumed that the mages were the root cause of it! And we were wrong! It were the templars! I shall not make the same mistake again!"
"Lord Seeker disagrees, however!" Cullen wasn't giving up. "Which is why he took the templars out of the Chantry's control! Templars will restore order!"
"Well, someone will have to make a decision," Wolf looked at each of them in turn. "Whom do we approach? Mages or templars? We cannot approach both!"
"Mages!"
"Templars!"
Cassandra and Cullen answered in unison.
"Right," Wolf smirked. "Mages it is. Ladies first."
"Ha!" Cassandra looked at Cullen in triumph. "Even the Queen of Ferelden granted sanctuary to the mages in her kingdom. Even she can see they were wronged. We shall go and talk to them."
...
"Grand-Enchanter Fiona is not our leader any longer," a very apologetic mage met Wolf and his followers when they arrived at the Redcliffe Castle to meet with the mages. "Magister Alexius is now in charge... You need to talk to him."
"Magister Alexius? That sounds Tevinter," Wolf squinted. Tevinter Imperium did not suppress its mages, instead they ruled it. It was built on slavery and was an old rival of the Southern kingdoms of Ferelden and Orlais. Tevinter Magisters were notorious for using blood of their slaves to augment their own health and abilities. And to top it off, according to the Chantry, it were Tevinter Magisters who corrupted the Heaven, created darkspawn and Blights and drove away the Maker thousands of years ago. Tevinter was still a mighty empire but its name had become a swear word everywhere else.
"He is a Tevinter Magister, yes," the mage nodded. "Alas!"
"What happened?" Wolf was perplexed.
"Grand-Enchanter Fiona... she..." The mage broke off and turned away, and Wolf could have sworn he saw tears in his eyes.
"They've been sold out," Varric said softly. "This is worse than slavery..."
Magister Alexius was only too happy to meet with Lord Inquisitor and his party. They would undoubtedly come to a compromise, the breach had to be closed, he was happy to collaborate, etcetera, etcetera. Wolf didn't believe a word of it.
What happened next was both bizarre and spectacular, involving time travel, torture, red lyrium and an ancient darkspawn lord not unlike the Father that Wolf encountered some ten years previously. In the end the mages joined the Inquisition and helped close the breach. Then, when the celebrations were in full swing, templars attacked their base, templars who had red lyrium growing out of their bodies. They were led by the darkspawn lord. The village of Haven was destroyed. The war was far from over.
...
"And so we start again," Cassandra was looking into the fire of a campsite that was now the village of Haven. "But we don't even have a base..."
"Skyhold," Solas said quietly.
"A fortress so high in the mountains that a mere attempt to reach it invariably gets you killed?" Cullen smirked. "Yeah, I know of it. But we won't be able to get there alive."
"We will if we persevere," Solas objected. "It is safe and secure, and once we're settled in, alternative transportation can be arranged..."
"What choice do we have?" Cassandra looked up. "We start marching tomorrow."
Skyhold was a grand fortress, even though it did required repairs. Everyone focused on masonry and furnishings, but Wolf couldn't shake off the feeling that people were just trying to forget why they were there. Namely, because an ancient darkspawn lord was poised to destroy the world and they vowed to stop him. What choice did they have, as Cassandra would say.
Wolf didn't like politics, but the game had to be played. The Inquisition rose from the ashes of the Chantry, and thus was a prominent public body rooted in religion. The Chantry was destroyed but not dead, civil wars were raging in most kingdoms, with mages rising up against templars everywhere and templars rising up against the mages and the Chantry both. Although the original mage-templar war was over, new civil wars replaced it, and common folk hardly saw any difference. Besides, even though the main breach over the Temple of Sacred Ashes was sealed, a lot of residual rifts still remained, spewing demons onto the land. And yes, there was still that minor matter of an ancient darkspawn lord aspiring to godhood... And so Wolf left politics to the very capable ambassador Lady Montilyet and focused on less complicated matters such as bandits, demons and templars in the field. He only returned to Skyhold to rest and restock between longer missions, but when he did return, tall stacks of papers requiring Lord Inquisitor's autograph quickly drove him back into the field. Yet Skyhold was also the only place where his entire party and his advisors and allies could be found in one place and at ease, and it was there that he could engage in conversations beyond the immediate tactics.
...
"We have to discuss your parents, Lord Inquisitor," Lady Montilyet caught Wolf's attention while he was walking around admiring the old fortress.
"Already?" He spun around, smiling at her. "I knew someone somewhere would make an honest man out of me, I just didn't expect it to be so soon..."
"What?" She looked up from her papers - it took a moment for her to realise that Lord Inquisitor wasn't being entirely serious. "Oh..." She smiled back. "Very funny. But I actually want to discuss your parents, Lord Trevelyan. They've been a nuisance to the Inquisition."
"Undoubtedly," Wolf nodded. "You realise that I never met them, right? You heard the story, I trust?"
"I know the story," she nodded and smirked. "It is a good excuse for the most part, and their behaviour does fit with it, and yet we have a problem. They want you back in Ostwick to help settle a dispute between your... err..." she checked her notes, "your second cousin thrice removed and your third cousin in the fifth degree," she looked up, smiling triumphantly. "Clan Trevelyan is quite large and I am not familiar with the nobility of the Free Marches..." she added with a slight blush. "Anyway, your parents wish that you mediate that dispute, Lord Trevelyan. In person."
"Josephine, I don't know any of those people," Wolf said in a hushed voice. "You realise that, right? I am Lord Trevelyan in title only."
"I know, Warden," she nodded. "I know that you hail from a foreign land outside of Thedas and that you are not in fact a lost son of House Trevelyan. But your papers say that you are, and I understand why. No one could imagine that Free Marches would get mixed up in Thedas politics, they never have done before... They are called Free Marches for a reason. So a bargain was struck and the Trevelyans agreed to offer provenance documentation to a foreign agent for a good cause - you came here to fight the Blight. And then you did not leave. Now they want their lost son back - having Lord Warden-Commander in their House raises their profile among the nobility of Thedas... But I see that I bore you with this," she smiled noticing Wolf's eyes glazing over. "My question is then, what do you want to do?"
"I am no noble, Josephine," Wolf shook his head. "I am a soldier."
"And you think that most nobility is any different?" She smirked. "Especially the Trevelyans. They are either clerics or templars, for the most part. Knights, too, of course. Many noble houses are like that. There are very few among them who value arts and culture and civilisation..." Her glance wandered, and Wolf suddenly realised that the Antivan lady before him was the very embodiment of culture and civilisation, and that she must miss it greatly. Yet here she was, in a derelict castle, trying her best to make the Inquisition a political force, which was necessary, oh so necessary, if they wanted to stop the wars.
"I'll do as you say," he said and Josephine looked up. "I am out of my element here, so please help me. What should I do? I can pretend being a Lord, to some extent..."
"You make a fine Lord as you are already," Josephine smiled. "Like I said, there are many soldiers among them anyway. I suggest you write letters to your cousins and your parents to help mediate the dispute. Yes, I know, they want you there in person... But Lord Inquisitor has so many other obligations, no? You can politely decline to visit and invite them to visit you here instead. I jotted down a few ideas here for your perusal..." She handed him several beautifully written letters just requiring his signature...
"Done and done!" Wolf beamed at her. "Or do you wish me to copy them over in my hand?" He looked up.
"That won't be necessary, everyone uses scribes anyway," Josephine smiled, rolling up the parchments. "I shall inform you if your 'parents' decide to visit here, we can arrange the introductions privately somewhere..."
Josephine carefully sealed and addressed the letters, preparing them for dispatch. "Lord Inquisitor Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches," Wolf reminded himself of his titles. "I'll never get used to this..."
He shook his head and went outside, thinking to chat to Cassandra about something or other...
In the yard he found several people gathered around Cassandra discussing what to do next. Leliana, Cullen, and several others were all looking grim, shaking their heads. The truth was that although they could pursue smaller issues like closing left-over rifts, no one had any idea how to tackle that ancient darkspawn lord that wanted to destroy the world.
"I have something that might help," Varric approached them and everyone looked at him. "Well... not something but someone, rather. I... well... I sent word. He's waiting to meet the Inquisitor."
"What?!" Cassandra glared at Varric. "If it is who I think it is..." She turned red, then white. Varric took two steps back.
"Meet him and see for yourself," he spoke to Wolf. "It'll be worth it."
Cassandra stormed off.
...
"Yeah, I figured it'd be you," Wolf came to the top of a tower that Varric was suggesting as a meeting place. "How have you been, Hawke? You supposedly vanished."
"I didn't vanish," Hawke smirked. "But I did go away. I had had enough of it all... Varric's been protecting me... not telling Cassandra where I was. But the problems we face are bigger than that."
"I have no issues with it," Wolf shrugged. "But Varric will have issues with Cassandra..."
"Yeah..." Varric sighed. "Let's hope I'll survive..."
"Anyway, the reason I returned is because I know that darkspawn lord... personally," Hawke said with difficulty. "We fought him... Varric and I, that is. It was soon after the Chantry in Kirkwall got blown up. We'd just cleared the mess with the mages and templars there, and one thing led to another... we got contacted... by someone..." He paused and shook his head. "Varric can fill in the details better than I, no doubt. The long and short of it though is that we killed him. He was dead. No pulse, no breath, full of stub wounds. He was a corpse. And now he's back."
"I see," Wolf said slowly. "Where did you find him?"
"He was locked up in a Grey Wardens prison," Hawke looked away. "Locked up by Grey Wardens long before your arrival," he shot a glance at Wolf. "Those Grey Wardens probably all died in the last Blight, or may be the Blight before that... it's hard to say. That prison was ancient."
"A thousand years before that," Wolf corrected him. "He told me. Only I didn't know what he was saying. He said he was imprisoned for a thousand years. And then he arranged for his release."
"Well then," Hawke sighed. "A thousand years... I must have Grey Wardens among my ancestors then, because my blood was needed to break the seal on his cell. And I gave it!" He looked at Wolf with horror. "This is all my fault!"
"Hardly," Wolf shook his head. "You didn't know what you were doing."
"I thought we killed him! We did kill him! So how is it that he's still alive?" Hawke looked away, not expecting an answer to his question.
"He is alive because you are not a Grey Warden," Wolf answered. "Had you been, you'd both be dead. Permanently."
"What?!" Hawke and Varric cried out in unison.
"That's how it works," Wolf shrugged. "I should not be telling you this, but since you fought him already, you have the right to know. Ancient darkspawn like him or like an Archdemon cannot be killed by just anyone. You can kill the body, for sure, and that's what you have done. But the spirit remains unaffected. It is simply transferred into another darkspawn until it finds a suitable body, and then the lord is reborn. And this is what happened. When Grey Wardens go through the Joining ritual, they ingest not just darkspawn blood - that would only infect them with the blight - but they also ingest the blood of the last Archdemon. That makes a Grey Warden a worthy vessel for the soul of an ancient darkspawn, and so when a Grey Warden delivers the killing blow, that soul is transferred to the Grey Warden so that it could live on. Except that a Grey Warden is not darkspawn. Thus the Grey Warden dies, killing the soul too. That ancient lord escaped by letting you kill his body."
Hawke and Varric were stunned.
"I see why Grey Wardens don't disclose too much about their Order," Varric finally said. "Wow. That's hard to swallow."
"That's what we're here for," Wolf smiled. "The hard part is to find that ancient lord. Killing him properly won't be a problem - I am a Grey Warden."
"Provided you survive long enough," Varric nodded.
"I am not the only Grey Warden around," Wolf looked at him. "That is why several of us go together for the kill. One must remain standing to deliver the killing blow."
"Who killed the last Archdemon then?" Varric suddenly asked.
"I did," Wolf looked in the distance.
"But you are alive."
"Yes. But that is a different story."
They stood in silence for a while. "And here I thought I knew everything worth knowing about Grey Wardens," Varric thought. "While in truth I missed the most important part... And now this Warden-Commander is also the Saviour with that mark on his hand. I wonder if he can pull the same trick to stay alive when he slays this darkspawn lord? Provided he lives long enough..."
"We need to investigate red lyrium," Hawke broke the silence. "Under the Drakesfall Wastes."
"Where we were held captive," Wolf nodded. "If I know Alistair, he's there already."
"Then that's where I'm going too," Hawke said firmly. "It's time for action. I'll find him and see if I can help."
"I'll see you there, Hawke," Wolf shook his hand. "We've always had non-Wardens walking with us. It is particularly important now because our greatest strength can be turned against us."
"And yet you Wardens always manage to come out on top," Varric said softly. "Just don't know how you do it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We have to close the breach, and to that end we need to strengthen the magic in your mark," Cassandra pointed at the mark on Wolf's hand. "That means we have to recruit a lot more mages."
"And have them destroy heaven and earth in the process!" Cullen interjected hotly. "What we need is a lot more templars to suppress the magic of the breach - that'll seal it!"
"Have you talked to any of the templars lately?" Cassandra glared at him. "They've gone mad! It started already in Kirkwall! It was their fault that the mages were driven to extremes! They did it!"
"Cassandra!" Cullen got red in the face. "You are a templar yourself! How can you turn on your brethren like that?!"
"I am a Seeker!" Cassandra cut him off. "We are meant to stand above mages and templars both! We looked the other way when trouble in Kirkwall was only just beginning - we assumed that the mages were the root cause of it! And we were wrong! It were the templars! I shall not make the same mistake again!"
"Lord Seeker disagrees, however!" Cullen wasn't giving up. "Which is why he took the templars out of the Chantry's control! Templars will restore order!"
"Well, someone will have to make a decision," Wolf looked at each of them in turn. "Whom do we approach? Mages or templars? We cannot approach both!"
"Mages!"
"Templars!"
Cassandra and Cullen answered in unison.
"Right," Wolf smirked. "Mages it is. Ladies first."
"Ha!" Cassandra looked at Cullen in triumph. "Even the Queen of Ferelden granted sanctuary to the mages in her kingdom. Even she can see they were wronged. We shall go and talk to them."
...
"Grand-Enchanter Fiona is not our leader any longer," a very apologetic mage met Wolf and his followers when they arrived at the Redcliffe Castle to meet with the mages. "Magister Alexius is now in charge... You need to talk to him."
"Magister Alexius? That sounds Tevinter," Wolf squinted. Tevinter Imperium did not suppress its mages, instead they ruled it. It was built on slavery and was an old rival of the Southern kingdoms of Ferelden and Orlais. Tevinter Magisters were notorious for using blood of their slaves to augment their own health and abilities. And to top it off, according to the Chantry, it were Tevinter Magisters who corrupted the Heaven, created darkspawn and Blights and drove away the Maker thousands of years ago. Tevinter was still a mighty empire but its name had become a swear word everywhere else.
"He is a Tevinter Magister, yes," the mage nodded. "Alas!"
"What happened?" Wolf was perplexed.
"Grand-Enchanter Fiona... she..." The mage broke off and turned away, and Wolf could have sworn he saw tears in his eyes.
"They've been sold out," Varric said softly. "This is worse than slavery..."
Magister Alexius was only too happy to meet with Lord Inquisitor and his party. They would undoubtedly come to a compromise, the breach had to be closed, he was happy to collaborate, etcetera, etcetera. Wolf didn't believe a word of it.
What happened next was both bizarre and spectacular, involving time travel, torture, red lyrium and an ancient darkspawn lord not unlike the Father that Wolf encountered some ten years previously. In the end the mages joined the Inquisition and helped close the breach. Then, when the celebrations were in full swing, templars attacked their base, templars who had red lyrium growing out of their bodies. They were led by the darkspawn lord. The village of Haven was destroyed. The war was far from over.
...
"And so we start again," Cassandra was looking into the fire of a campsite that was now the village of Haven. "But we don't even have a base..."
"Skyhold," Solas said quietly.
"A fortress so high in the mountains that a mere attempt to reach it invariably gets you killed?" Cullen smirked. "Yeah, I know of it. But we won't be able to get there alive."
"We will if we persevere," Solas objected. "It is safe and secure, and once we're settled in, alternative transportation can be arranged..."
"What choice do we have?" Cassandra looked up. "We start marching tomorrow."
Skyhold was a grand fortress, even though it did required repairs. Everyone focused on masonry and furnishings, but Wolf couldn't shake off the feeling that people were just trying to forget why they were there. Namely, because an ancient darkspawn lord was poised to destroy the world and they vowed to stop him. What choice did they have, as Cassandra would say.
Wolf didn't like politics, but the game had to be played. The Inquisition rose from the ashes of the Chantry, and thus was a prominent public body rooted in religion. The Chantry was destroyed but not dead, civil wars were raging in most kingdoms, with mages rising up against templars everywhere and templars rising up against the mages and the Chantry both. Although the original mage-templar war was over, new civil wars replaced it, and common folk hardly saw any difference. Besides, even though the main breach over the Temple of Sacred Ashes was sealed, a lot of residual rifts still remained, spewing demons onto the land. And yes, there was still that minor matter of an ancient darkspawn lord aspiring to godhood... And so Wolf left politics to the very capable ambassador Lady Montilyet and focused on less complicated matters such as bandits, demons and templars in the field. He only returned to Skyhold to rest and restock between longer missions, but when he did return, tall stacks of papers requiring Lord Inquisitor's autograph quickly drove him back into the field. Yet Skyhold was also the only place where his entire party and his advisors and allies could be found in one place and at ease, and it was there that he could engage in conversations beyond the immediate tactics.
...
"We have to discuss your parents, Lord Inquisitor," Lady Montilyet caught Wolf's attention while he was walking around admiring the old fortress.
"Already?" He spun around, smiling at her. "I knew someone somewhere would make an honest man out of me, I just didn't expect it to be so soon..."
"What?" She looked up from her papers - it took a moment for her to realise that Lord Inquisitor wasn't being entirely serious. "Oh..." She smiled back. "Very funny. But I actually want to discuss your parents, Lord Trevelyan. They've been a nuisance to the Inquisition."
"Undoubtedly," Wolf nodded. "You realise that I never met them, right? You heard the story, I trust?"
"I know the story," she nodded and smirked. "It is a good excuse for the most part, and their behaviour does fit with it, and yet we have a problem. They want you back in Ostwick to help settle a dispute between your... err..." she checked her notes, "your second cousin thrice removed and your third cousin in the fifth degree," she looked up, smiling triumphantly. "Clan Trevelyan is quite large and I am not familiar with the nobility of the Free Marches..." she added with a slight blush. "Anyway, your parents wish that you mediate that dispute, Lord Trevelyan. In person."
"Josephine, I don't know any of those people," Wolf said in a hushed voice. "You realise that, right? I am Lord Trevelyan in title only."
"I know, Warden," she nodded. "I know that you hail from a foreign land outside of Thedas and that you are not in fact a lost son of House Trevelyan. But your papers say that you are, and I understand why. No one could imagine that Free Marches would get mixed up in Thedas politics, they never have done before... They are called Free Marches for a reason. So a bargain was struck and the Trevelyans agreed to offer provenance documentation to a foreign agent for a good cause - you came here to fight the Blight. And then you did not leave. Now they want their lost son back - having Lord Warden-Commander in their House raises their profile among the nobility of Thedas... But I see that I bore you with this," she smiled noticing Wolf's eyes glazing over. "My question is then, what do you want to do?"
"I am no noble, Josephine," Wolf shook his head. "I am a soldier."
"And you think that most nobility is any different?" She smirked. "Especially the Trevelyans. They are either clerics or templars, for the most part. Knights, too, of course. Many noble houses are like that. There are very few among them who value arts and culture and civilisation..." Her glance wandered, and Wolf suddenly realised that the Antivan lady before him was the very embodiment of culture and civilisation, and that she must miss it greatly. Yet here she was, in a derelict castle, trying her best to make the Inquisition a political force, which was necessary, oh so necessary, if they wanted to stop the wars.
"I'll do as you say," he said and Josephine looked up. "I am out of my element here, so please help me. What should I do? I can pretend being a Lord, to some extent..."
"You make a fine Lord as you are already," Josephine smiled. "Like I said, there are many soldiers among them anyway. I suggest you write letters to your cousins and your parents to help mediate the dispute. Yes, I know, they want you there in person... But Lord Inquisitor has so many other obligations, no? You can politely decline to visit and invite them to visit you here instead. I jotted down a few ideas here for your perusal..." She handed him several beautifully written letters just requiring his signature...
"Done and done!" Wolf beamed at her. "Or do you wish me to copy them over in my hand?" He looked up.
"That won't be necessary, everyone uses scribes anyway," Josephine smiled, rolling up the parchments. "I shall inform you if your 'parents' decide to visit here, we can arrange the introductions privately somewhere..."
Josephine carefully sealed and addressed the letters, preparing them for dispatch. "Lord Inquisitor Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan of Ostwick in the Free Marches," Wolf reminded himself of his titles. "I'll never get used to this..."
He shook his head and went outside, thinking to chat to Cassandra about something or other...
In the yard he found several people gathered around Cassandra discussing what to do next. Leliana, Cullen, and several others were all looking grim, shaking their heads. The truth was that although they could pursue smaller issues like closing left-over rifts, no one had any idea how to tackle that ancient darkspawn lord that wanted to destroy the world.
"I have something that might help," Varric approached them and everyone looked at him. "Well... not something but someone, rather. I... well... I sent word. He's waiting to meet the Inquisitor."
"What?!" Cassandra glared at Varric. "If it is who I think it is..." She turned red, then white. Varric took two steps back.
"Meet him and see for yourself," he spoke to Wolf. "It'll be worth it."
Cassandra stormed off.
...
"Yeah, I figured it'd be you," Wolf came to the top of a tower that Varric was suggesting as a meeting place. "How have you been, Hawke? You supposedly vanished."
"I didn't vanish," Hawke smirked. "But I did go away. I had had enough of it all... Varric's been protecting me... not telling Cassandra where I was. But the problems we face are bigger than that."
"I have no issues with it," Wolf shrugged. "But Varric will have issues with Cassandra..."
"Yeah..." Varric sighed. "Let's hope I'll survive..."
"Anyway, the reason I returned is because I know that darkspawn lord... personally," Hawke said with difficulty. "We fought him... Varric and I, that is. It was soon after the Chantry in Kirkwall got blown up. We'd just cleared the mess with the mages and templars there, and one thing led to another... we got contacted... by someone..." He paused and shook his head. "Varric can fill in the details better than I, no doubt. The long and short of it though is that we killed him. He was dead. No pulse, no breath, full of stub wounds. He was a corpse. And now he's back."
"I see," Wolf said slowly. "Where did you find him?"
"He was locked up in a Grey Wardens prison," Hawke looked away. "Locked up by Grey Wardens long before your arrival," he shot a glance at Wolf. "Those Grey Wardens probably all died in the last Blight, or may be the Blight before that... it's hard to say. That prison was ancient."
"A thousand years before that," Wolf corrected him. "He told me. Only I didn't know what he was saying. He said he was imprisoned for a thousand years. And then he arranged for his release."
"Well then," Hawke sighed. "A thousand years... I must have Grey Wardens among my ancestors then, because my blood was needed to break the seal on his cell. And I gave it!" He looked at Wolf with horror. "This is all my fault!"
"Hardly," Wolf shook his head. "You didn't know what you were doing."
"I thought we killed him! We did kill him! So how is it that he's still alive?" Hawke looked away, not expecting an answer to his question.
"He is alive because you are not a Grey Warden," Wolf answered. "Had you been, you'd both be dead. Permanently."
"What?!" Hawke and Varric cried out in unison.
"That's how it works," Wolf shrugged. "I should not be telling you this, but since you fought him already, you have the right to know. Ancient darkspawn like him or like an Archdemon cannot be killed by just anyone. You can kill the body, for sure, and that's what you have done. But the spirit remains unaffected. It is simply transferred into another darkspawn until it finds a suitable body, and then the lord is reborn. And this is what happened. When Grey Wardens go through the Joining ritual, they ingest not just darkspawn blood - that would only infect them with the blight - but they also ingest the blood of the last Archdemon. That makes a Grey Warden a worthy vessel for the soul of an ancient darkspawn, and so when a Grey Warden delivers the killing blow, that soul is transferred to the Grey Warden so that it could live on. Except that a Grey Warden is not darkspawn. Thus the Grey Warden dies, killing the soul too. That ancient lord escaped by letting you kill his body."
Hawke and Varric were stunned.
"I see why Grey Wardens don't disclose too much about their Order," Varric finally said. "Wow. That's hard to swallow."
"That's what we're here for," Wolf smiled. "The hard part is to find that ancient lord. Killing him properly won't be a problem - I am a Grey Warden."
"Provided you survive long enough," Varric nodded.
"I am not the only Grey Warden around," Wolf looked at him. "That is why several of us go together for the kill. One must remain standing to deliver the killing blow."
"Who killed the last Archdemon then?" Varric suddenly asked.
"I did," Wolf looked in the distance.
"But you are alive."
"Yes. But that is a different story."
They stood in silence for a while. "And here I thought I knew everything worth knowing about Grey Wardens," Varric thought. "While in truth I missed the most important part... And now this Warden-Commander is also the Saviour with that mark on his hand. I wonder if he can pull the same trick to stay alive when he slays this darkspawn lord? Provided he lives long enough..."
"We need to investigate red lyrium," Hawke broke the silence. "Under the Drakesfall Wastes."
"Where we were held captive," Wolf nodded. "If I know Alistair, he's there already."
"Then that's where I'm going too," Hawke said firmly. "It's time for action. I'll find him and see if I can help."
"I'll see you there, Hawke," Wolf shook his hand. "We've always had non-Wardens walking with us. It is particularly important now because our greatest strength can be turned against us."
"And yet you Wardens always manage to come out on top," Varric said softly. "Just don't know how you do it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frostfall, 3E398 - Passions
"You!!!" Cassandra flew at Varric as soon as he entered the tavern. "You lied to me, snake!!!" She threw a punch but Varric managed to duck under the table just in time. "You told me that Hawke had disappeared!!!"
"And he did!" Varric tried to reason with her, in vain. "You dragged me here in chains! Did you really think I'd tell you anything?"
"Ugh!!!" Another punch, missed.
"He is not on our side, Inquisitor!" Cassandra noticed Wolf come in. "He is a liar!!"
"I lied, I admit it!" Varric was still carefully avoiding Cassandra's punches. "I am sorry! I misjudged the situation! But Hawke is here now!"
"If Hawke had been at the conclave..!"
"He'd be dead then," Varric finished her sentence. "Because he wouldn't have run into blazing flames like the Warden here... because Hawke has no death wish."
Cassandra stopped trying to punch Varric and took a deep breath.
"Go, Varric," she said with difficulty. "Just go."
Varric didn't need to be asked twice.
Cassandra took a moment to compose herself.
"I thought I explained the situation to him," she said, shaking her head. "I thought he understood what was at stake... with the mage-templar war running out of control, with red lyrium appearing in the most unexpected places... And yet I didn't explain it well enough. He spun a tale for me and I swallowed it."
She dropped on a chair. The tavern was eerily quiet, no one spoke and the bard didn't sing. Wolf looked down from the balustrade they were on, signaling the bard to resume her performance. People saw his sign and returned to their conversations, so that the usual din was restored. Wolf picked a chair facing Cassandra and straightened her up by the shoulders.
"You did what you could," he said softly.
"Perhaps others hadn't seen where we were headed," Cassandra shook her head. "Perhaps I only saw it because I was close to the Divine... But all that foreboding... all the signs..." she sighed. "We tried to find you at first, the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Commander who gathered the forces and defeated the Blight... but you had vanished... There were rumours that you hailed from a distant land outside of Thedas, and we assumed that you returned there... yet here you are! Where were you?!" She exclaimed with renewed anger.
"I was in Antiva," Wolf answered evenly. "Helping a friend resolve an old dispute," he smiled. "That required a certain degree of discretion."
"You went after the Crows?!" Cassandra was taken aback. "It was for that elf, that assassin that hangs around the camp, was it not?"
"Zevran, yes," Wolf nodded. "An assassin of the Antivan Crows."
"That explains why they weren't taking contracts for a while," Cassandra smirked. "We thought they had a rebellion in their ranks... and it looks like they had... No, don't tell me!" She raised her hand, but Wolf had no intention of telling her anything more. "He is here, not on a job and not dead... that speaks volumes. Why is he following you? Are you lovers?"
"Your directness is absolutely delightful, Cassandra," Wolf laughed. "No, we are not lovers, we are friends. I prefer the company of women."
"And he?" Cassandra was piercing Wolf with her gaze.
"He likes both," Wolf returned her gaze. "But I believe in his way he is faithful to me. He only romances women now."
"Heh... That's... well... I think I understand..." She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. "I made such a mess, just now with Varric..."
"Your anger is a force to behold," Wolf smiled. "I love that about you."
"What?!"
"Your fire. Your passion. You really care about the cause."
"Be careful not to get burned," Cassandra smirked.
"I am not worried," Wolf kept smiling. "I am a Grey Warden."
They talked a while longer, and the tavern returned to its usual din, but rumour has it that the stories of a Warden-Commander taming a dragon stemmed from that night.
...
"Inquisitor, may I have a word?" Mother Giselle, one of the few priests that joined the Inquisition, stopped Wolf the following morning as he descended into the great hall from his quaters.
"What is it, Reverend Mother?" He greeted her politely.
"It is about one of your companions, a young mage from Tevinter by the name of Dorian Pavus," she spoke softly, but her gaze was penetrating, as always. "I recieved a letter from his father begging to send him back to Tevinter."
"Oh?" Wolf smirked. "Dorian is a grown man, not a little boy. Why doesn't his father write to him directly?"
"Dorian is still so young..."
"Not that young, no," Wolf shook his head. "I was already... well, never mind that. Dorian makes his own decisions."
"Well, I believe there's been an estrangement... between Dorian and his parents..." Mother Giselle hesitated. "Look, here is the letter," she handed it to Wolf.
"...if I ask him directly, he surely will never come, I know my son..." Wolf read. "...a retainer from our House will meet him and escort him home..." Wolf looked at Mother Giselle in disbelief. "Absolutely not! This is a trap! If you think I'd lead Dorian into a trap, you are misjudging me, Reverend Mother!"
His anger must have been showing, because the priestess sighed and shook her head.
"Well... I hope you will reconsider..."
Wolf had no intention of tricking Dorian, so he took that letter straight to him.
"The nerve..!" Dorian was furious. "After all that..!" He shook his head. "Let's go and meet them! Will you come with me? In case they want to kill me?"
"Of course I'll come with you," Wolf nodded. "I brought you that letter, didn't I?"
They went to the inn in question, it was empty. "That doesn't bode well," Wolf readied his daggers. But there was no attack. Instead a middle-aged man in mage's robes stepped forward from a side room.
"Hello, son," he said. "I am glad you came."
"What is the meaning of this, father?" Dorian retorted angrily. "Bring me back home? Is that why you are here?"
"You are putting yourself in danger following the Inquisition," Dorian's father spoke. "Your mother is worried..."
"Bah! You never gave a damn about me, all you've ever wanted was a picture-perfect son, married to a woman with a pedigree! Well, I won't do it!" Dorian's nostrils were flaring with anger.
"Everything I've done was to ensure the best possible future for you..." his father continued.
"No!" Dorian turned sharply, now addressing Wolf. "You should know... that I prefer the company of men. I shall not marry a woman!"
"Is that all?" Wolf must have looked very surprised because Dorian smiled and his father shook his head. "Why does it even matter who you sleep with?"
"That isn't all... and in Tevinter it matters..." Dorian sighed, then turned to his father again. "You heard him - he is surprised it even matters. Yet you tried to correct my 'fault'... that one defect in your picture-perfect son! And it didn't work... I left because you won't stop until your 'cure' destroys me!"
"He what now..?" Wolf muttered involunterily, he didn't want to pry or to ask, it was none of his business. But Dorian heard him and answered nonetheless.
"They used a blood magic ritual to make me prefer women instead," he smirked. "How many slaves did you bleed for this? Do you even know what it did? What it made me feel?" He glared at his father. "And most of all - I am not a tool to be fixed!"
"I understand your anger," Dorian's father spoke again. "I understand why you left. But to join the Inquisition? Come home with me, there will be no more cures, I swear! We'll arrange a marriage of convenience, you won't have to..."
"No!"
"The Inquisition is so dangerous! You could get killed!" His father kept pleading. "You made your point, there's no need to put yourself in danger any longer!"
"I didn't join the Inquisition to make a point!" Dorian shook his head. "I joined because there's a giant hole in the sky and an ancient darkspawn lord wanting to destroy the world! I joined because it's the right thing to do! I used to have a father who could understand this..."
They fell silent. It seemed the meeting was coming to an end.
"Don't leave it like this," Wolf looked at them in turn. "You came all this way," he addressed Dorian's father. "You wanted to talk... so talk."
"Yes... yes, you are right," he nodded to Wolf. "Dorian, I... I am sorry."
...
They didn't speak much on the way back, the meeting weighed heavily on Wolf and Dorian both. For different reasons, of course, they each came away with a heavy heart but they were glad to have put it behind them. They didn't know that the matter was not yet resolved.
When they arrived at Skyhold, Mother Giselle was waiting for them. She took them aside then spoke to Dorian in an angry tone.
"You must leave the Inquisition, Dorian," she said. "You are giving the Inquisitor a bad name, a bad image. He cannot be seen with you!"
"What?!" Wolf could not believe his ears. "What, because he is from Tevinter?"
"That too, but mostly because... well... there are rumours..."
"What rumours?" Wolf pressed her, although he could imagine what it was about.
"I could not repeat them..."
"There are undoubtedly rumours that you and I are... intimate," Dorian said with a smirk. "That's it, isn't it, Reverend Mother?"
She nodded.
"Do you get this a lot?" Wolf looked at Dorian, still surprised.
"Oh yes, I know the signs..." he nodded. "I cannot have male friends, you see... But I consider you a friend, I think we get on rather well and I'll stand by you against monsters, templars or ancient darkspawn alike... if you can live with the rumours..."
"You met Zevran, right?" Wolf grinned. "Yeah, I can live with the rumours... So if there's nothing else, Reverend Mother, I suggest you do not repeat such rumours but nip them in the bud. Dorian stays, Zevran too. Good day to you."
And with that he turned his back to the Reverend Mother and went to his quarters. That had been quite a day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You!!!" Cassandra flew at Varric as soon as he entered the tavern. "You lied to me, snake!!!" She threw a punch but Varric managed to duck under the table just in time. "You told me that Hawke had disappeared!!!"
"And he did!" Varric tried to reason with her, in vain. "You dragged me here in chains! Did you really think I'd tell you anything?"
"Ugh!!!" Another punch, missed.
"He is not on our side, Inquisitor!" Cassandra noticed Wolf come in. "He is a liar!!"
"I lied, I admit it!" Varric was still carefully avoiding Cassandra's punches. "I am sorry! I misjudged the situation! But Hawke is here now!"
"If Hawke had been at the conclave..!"
"He'd be dead then," Varric finished her sentence. "Because he wouldn't have run into blazing flames like the Warden here... because Hawke has no death wish."
Cassandra stopped trying to punch Varric and took a deep breath.
"Go, Varric," she said with difficulty. "Just go."
Varric didn't need to be asked twice.
Cassandra took a moment to compose herself.
"I thought I explained the situation to him," she said, shaking her head. "I thought he understood what was at stake... with the mage-templar war running out of control, with red lyrium appearing in the most unexpected places... And yet I didn't explain it well enough. He spun a tale for me and I swallowed it."
She dropped on a chair. The tavern was eerily quiet, no one spoke and the bard didn't sing. Wolf looked down from the balustrade they were on, signaling the bard to resume her performance. People saw his sign and returned to their conversations, so that the usual din was restored. Wolf picked a chair facing Cassandra and straightened her up by the shoulders.
"You did what you could," he said softly.
"Perhaps others hadn't seen where we were headed," Cassandra shook her head. "Perhaps I only saw it because I was close to the Divine... But all that foreboding... all the signs..." she sighed. "We tried to find you at first, the Hero of Ferelden, the Warden-Commander who gathered the forces and defeated the Blight... but you had vanished... There were rumours that you hailed from a distant land outside of Thedas, and we assumed that you returned there... yet here you are! Where were you?!" She exclaimed with renewed anger.
"I was in Antiva," Wolf answered evenly. "Helping a friend resolve an old dispute," he smiled. "That required a certain degree of discretion."
"You went after the Crows?!" Cassandra was taken aback. "It was for that elf, that assassin that hangs around the camp, was it not?"
"Zevran, yes," Wolf nodded. "An assassin of the Antivan Crows."
"That explains why they weren't taking contracts for a while," Cassandra smirked. "We thought they had a rebellion in their ranks... and it looks like they had... No, don't tell me!" She raised her hand, but Wolf had no intention of telling her anything more. "He is here, not on a job and not dead... that speaks volumes. Why is he following you? Are you lovers?"
"Your directness is absolutely delightful, Cassandra," Wolf laughed. "No, we are not lovers, we are friends. I prefer the company of women."
"And he?" Cassandra was piercing Wolf with her gaze.
"He likes both," Wolf returned her gaze. "But I believe in his way he is faithful to me. He only romances women now."
"Heh... That's... well... I think I understand..." She took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders. "I made such a mess, just now with Varric..."
"Your anger is a force to behold," Wolf smiled. "I love that about you."
"What?!"
"Your fire. Your passion. You really care about the cause."
"Be careful not to get burned," Cassandra smirked.
"I am not worried," Wolf kept smiling. "I am a Grey Warden."
They talked a while longer, and the tavern returned to its usual din, but rumour has it that the stories of a Warden-Commander taming a dragon stemmed from that night.
...
"Inquisitor, may I have a word?" Mother Giselle, one of the few priests that joined the Inquisition, stopped Wolf the following morning as he descended into the great hall from his quaters.
"What is it, Reverend Mother?" He greeted her politely.
"It is about one of your companions, a young mage from Tevinter by the name of Dorian Pavus," she spoke softly, but her gaze was penetrating, as always. "I recieved a letter from his father begging to send him back to Tevinter."
"Oh?" Wolf smirked. "Dorian is a grown man, not a little boy. Why doesn't his father write to him directly?"
"Dorian is still so young..."
"Not that young, no," Wolf shook his head. "I was already... well, never mind that. Dorian makes his own decisions."
"Well, I believe there's been an estrangement... between Dorian and his parents..." Mother Giselle hesitated. "Look, here is the letter," she handed it to Wolf.
"...if I ask him directly, he surely will never come, I know my son..." Wolf read. "...a retainer from our House will meet him and escort him home..." Wolf looked at Mother Giselle in disbelief. "Absolutely not! This is a trap! If you think I'd lead Dorian into a trap, you are misjudging me, Reverend Mother!"
His anger must have been showing, because the priestess sighed and shook her head.
"Well... I hope you will reconsider..."
Wolf had no intention of tricking Dorian, so he took that letter straight to him.
"The nerve..!" Dorian was furious. "After all that..!" He shook his head. "Let's go and meet them! Will you come with me? In case they want to kill me?"
"Of course I'll come with you," Wolf nodded. "I brought you that letter, didn't I?"
They went to the inn in question, it was empty. "That doesn't bode well," Wolf readied his daggers. But there was no attack. Instead a middle-aged man in mage's robes stepped forward from a side room.
"Hello, son," he said. "I am glad you came."
"What is the meaning of this, father?" Dorian retorted angrily. "Bring me back home? Is that why you are here?"
"You are putting yourself in danger following the Inquisition," Dorian's father spoke. "Your mother is worried..."
"Bah! You never gave a damn about me, all you've ever wanted was a picture-perfect son, married to a woman with a pedigree! Well, I won't do it!" Dorian's nostrils were flaring with anger.
"Everything I've done was to ensure the best possible future for you..." his father continued.
"No!" Dorian turned sharply, now addressing Wolf. "You should know... that I prefer the company of men. I shall not marry a woman!"
"Is that all?" Wolf must have looked very surprised because Dorian smiled and his father shook his head. "Why does it even matter who you sleep with?"
"That isn't all... and in Tevinter it matters..." Dorian sighed, then turned to his father again. "You heard him - he is surprised it even matters. Yet you tried to correct my 'fault'... that one defect in your picture-perfect son! And it didn't work... I left because you won't stop until your 'cure' destroys me!"
"He what now..?" Wolf muttered involunterily, he didn't want to pry or to ask, it was none of his business. But Dorian heard him and answered nonetheless.
"They used a blood magic ritual to make me prefer women instead," he smirked. "How many slaves did you bleed for this? Do you even know what it did? What it made me feel?" He glared at his father. "And most of all - I am not a tool to be fixed!"
"I understand your anger," Dorian's father spoke again. "I understand why you left. But to join the Inquisition? Come home with me, there will be no more cures, I swear! We'll arrange a marriage of convenience, you won't have to..."
"No!"
"The Inquisition is so dangerous! You could get killed!" His father kept pleading. "You made your point, there's no need to put yourself in danger any longer!"
"I didn't join the Inquisition to make a point!" Dorian shook his head. "I joined because there's a giant hole in the sky and an ancient darkspawn lord wanting to destroy the world! I joined because it's the right thing to do! I used to have a father who could understand this..."
They fell silent. It seemed the meeting was coming to an end.
"Don't leave it like this," Wolf looked at them in turn. "You came all this way," he addressed Dorian's father. "You wanted to talk... so talk."
"Yes... yes, you are right," he nodded to Wolf. "Dorian, I... I am sorry."
...
They didn't speak much on the way back, the meeting weighed heavily on Wolf and Dorian both. For different reasons, of course, they each came away with a heavy heart but they were glad to have put it behind them. They didn't know that the matter was not yet resolved.
When they arrived at Skyhold, Mother Giselle was waiting for them. She took them aside then spoke to Dorian in an angry tone.
"You must leave the Inquisition, Dorian," she said. "You are giving the Inquisitor a bad name, a bad image. He cannot be seen with you!"
"What?!" Wolf could not believe his ears. "What, because he is from Tevinter?"
"That too, but mostly because... well... there are rumours..."
"What rumours?" Wolf pressed her, although he could imagine what it was about.
"I could not repeat them..."
"There are undoubtedly rumours that you and I are... intimate," Dorian said with a smirk. "That's it, isn't it, Reverend Mother?"
She nodded.
"Do you get this a lot?" Wolf looked at Dorian, still surprised.
"Oh yes, I know the signs..." he nodded. "I cannot have male friends, you see... But I consider you a friend, I think we get on rather well and I'll stand by you against monsters, templars or ancient darkspawn alike... if you can live with the rumours..."
"You met Zevran, right?" Wolf grinned. "Yeah, I can live with the rumours... So if there's nothing else, Reverend Mother, I suggest you do not repeat such rumours but nip them in the bud. Dorian stays, Zevran too. Good day to you."
And with that he turned his back to the Reverend Mother and went to his quarters. That had been quite a day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Frostfall, 3E398 – First blood
"Have a look at these," Wolf laid out four long daggers on the table in the tavern at Skyhold. "Not bad for a few days clearing caves," he grinned.
"He is fond of collecting daggers, your friend," Dorian smirked addressing Zevran. "He never leaves one behind."
"Not true!" Wolf protested. "It's just that we find them more often than other weapons."
"Where did you get them from?" Zevran picked up two seemingly identical plain double-bladed daggers, leaving two fancy ones on the table. "Have you tried them already?"
"Got them from a sack in a cave," Wolf shrugged. "And yes, I tried them... they don't seem to work."
"How can they not work? It's not magic!" Dorian looked surprised. "That edge looks sharp!"
"They didn't work because you wielded them wrong," Zevran smiled. "These are Crow daggers. I wonder what they were doing in that sack... But no matter. Let me show you."
They went outside and Zevran sliced a training dummy into shreds before anyone could notice what happened.
"They are for slicing, not stabbing," he pointed out. "Now you try."
They trained all afternoon and Wolf learned a whole host of new techniques. Finally Zevran was satisfied.
"Alright, now we train for real," he said. "I'll take the other two daggers. Let's see who draws the first blood."
They started to dance. Wolf must have been a good student because he kept parrying and Zevran wasn't getting anywhere with his attacks. A crowd started gathering around them, it wasn't every day that people got to watch two assassins dancing. Of course, Wolf wasn't really an assassin, but he was doing his best. Bets were being placed, mugs of beer passed around, and still there was no blood drawn.
"I think Zevran will win," one spectator was saying. "He's an elf, he's lighter and faster. He can keep dancing for longer."
"Ah, but Wolf is stronger, he'll break through, you'll see," another one disagreed.
After some time, Wolf started getting tired. "So, parrying works but I still cannot break his guard," he thought. "It's like he has a cage around him... he parries all of my attacks as I parry his... And yet we did beat him once... That very first time when he was on the contract against us... What did we do..?"
Of course back then it wasn't a duel. Wolf and his party walked into Zevran's ambush and were attacked by a dozen men, with archers and mages among them. The only way they survived and won was because Wynne kept healing and reviving them while they methodically took out the archers and the mages before moving in on the assassins themselves... and even so, Zevran was the last man standing and it took all four of them together to take him down. True. But Wolf learned a few tricks since then. "If you cannot win outright, then cheat," he smirked at the old saying. "Here we go!"
A spray of blood from Wolf's wrist hit Zevran flat on the chest and knocked him down on the ground as if it was a rock. "Now!" Wolf lunged, aiming for the neck. And as his dagger nicked Zevran's skin, he felt Zevran's blade stabbing him through the heart... Or it would have stabbed him through the heart, had Zevran not withdrew it as soon as it drew blood. The duel was over.
"So, who won..?" The spectators tried to decide.
"You cheated," Zevran grinned. "Just like the first time. Well done."
"That was some trick!" Dorian grabbed Wolf's wrist. "Scarred all over! Small, precise cuts... But you are not a mage! You cannot possibly be using blood magic!"
"It's like Zevran said - I cheated," Wolf winked. "Come. Anders isn't here and I need a mage who knows of such things... you'll do," he grinned.
"But what about our bets?!" Someone shouted, seeing them leave. "Who won?"
"It's a draw, of course," someone else replied. "The whole pot goes to the bartender! Drinks for all!"
...
Wolf, Zevran and Dorian walked through the Great Hall of Skyhold and heads turned. They entered Wolf's private quarters, and whispers followed. It didn't matter.
Once armour was removed, it became blatantly clear that both Wolf and Zevran cheated - they were covered in small cuts. If the duel had been for real, they'd each be dead many times over. Zevran filled a bath from a barrel standing ready.
"It's always the same, isn't it," he shook his head. "They expect you'd want a warm bath... They never bring frost salts, and we're out. Dorian, would you..?"
Dorian was watching in fascination as two men were carefully removing each other's armour and clothing, then checking over each other's wounds...
"What...?" He jerked out of his reverie. "Would I what?"
"Shoot a frost spell at the water," Zevran grinned. "We're out of frost salts."
Slightly bewildered, Dorian obliged, and a thin layer of ice formed on the surface. The bath was large, and both Wolf and Zevran got in, and lay still with their eyes closed.
"Fascinating," Dorian was watching the bleeding on their bodies stop, then Wolf and Zevran getting out of the bath and moving to the bed, and proceding to apply ointments and bandages to each other. "I see you've done this before."
"The number of times that we shared a bed over the past ten years..." Wolf rolled his eyes. "There will be talk tomorrow, of course, about Lord Inquisitor's intimacy with his elf... Pay it no mind. I wanted you to see it."
"I am more interested in your wrists, in fact," Dorian walked over to the bed. "And in your blood magic. And doesn't Zevran object when you speak of him like that..?" He looked at Zevran who shook his head.
"I am an elf, it's true," he grinned. "Let them talk. Solas can stick his sermons where no one will ever find them. I don't understand a word of Elvish, my friend..."
"I'll tell you all about my blood magic tomorrow, Dorian," Wolf smiled. "I can barely keep my eyes open. Training with this assassin is utterly exhausting..." He shot a glance at Zevran who grinned, getting comfortable under the blankets. "But tomorrow we can give rise to a new set of rumours about Lord Inquisitor and his Tevinter mage..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Have a look at these," Wolf laid out four long daggers on the table in the tavern at Skyhold. "Not bad for a few days clearing caves," he grinned.
"He is fond of collecting daggers, your friend," Dorian smirked addressing Zevran. "He never leaves one behind."
"Not true!" Wolf protested. "It's just that we find them more often than other weapons."
"Where did you get them from?" Zevran picked up two seemingly identical plain double-bladed daggers, leaving two fancy ones on the table. "Have you tried them already?"
"Got them from a sack in a cave," Wolf shrugged. "And yes, I tried them... they don't seem to work."
"How can they not work? It's not magic!" Dorian looked surprised. "That edge looks sharp!"
"They didn't work because you wielded them wrong," Zevran smiled. "These are Crow daggers. I wonder what they were doing in that sack... But no matter. Let me show you."
They went outside and Zevran sliced a training dummy into shreds before anyone could notice what happened.
"They are for slicing, not stabbing," he pointed out. "Now you try."
They trained all afternoon and Wolf learned a whole host of new techniques. Finally Zevran was satisfied.
"Alright, now we train for real," he said. "I'll take the other two daggers. Let's see who draws the first blood."
They started to dance. Wolf must have been a good student because he kept parrying and Zevran wasn't getting anywhere with his attacks. A crowd started gathering around them, it wasn't every day that people got to watch two assassins dancing. Of course, Wolf wasn't really an assassin, but he was doing his best. Bets were being placed, mugs of beer passed around, and still there was no blood drawn.
"I think Zevran will win," one spectator was saying. "He's an elf, he's lighter and faster. He can keep dancing for longer."
"Ah, but Wolf is stronger, he'll break through, you'll see," another one disagreed.
After some time, Wolf started getting tired. "So, parrying works but I still cannot break his guard," he thought. "It's like he has a cage around him... he parries all of my attacks as I parry his... And yet we did beat him once... That very first time when he was on the contract against us... What did we do..?"
Of course back then it wasn't a duel. Wolf and his party walked into Zevran's ambush and were attacked by a dozen men, with archers and mages among them. The only way they survived and won was because Wynne kept healing and reviving them while they methodically took out the archers and the mages before moving in on the assassins themselves... and even so, Zevran was the last man standing and it took all four of them together to take him down. True. But Wolf learned a few tricks since then. "If you cannot win outright, then cheat," he smirked at the old saying. "Here we go!"
A spray of blood from Wolf's wrist hit Zevran flat on the chest and knocked him down on the ground as if it was a rock. "Now!" Wolf lunged, aiming for the neck. And as his dagger nicked Zevran's skin, he felt Zevran's blade stabbing him through the heart... Or it would have stabbed him through the heart, had Zevran not withdrew it as soon as it drew blood. The duel was over.
"So, who won..?" The spectators tried to decide.
"You cheated," Zevran grinned. "Just like the first time. Well done."
"That was some trick!" Dorian grabbed Wolf's wrist. "Scarred all over! Small, precise cuts... But you are not a mage! You cannot possibly be using blood magic!"
"It's like Zevran said - I cheated," Wolf winked. "Come. Anders isn't here and I need a mage who knows of such things... you'll do," he grinned.
"But what about our bets?!" Someone shouted, seeing them leave. "Who won?"
"It's a draw, of course," someone else replied. "The whole pot goes to the bartender! Drinks for all!"
...
Wolf, Zevran and Dorian walked through the Great Hall of Skyhold and heads turned. They entered Wolf's private quarters, and whispers followed. It didn't matter.
Once armour was removed, it became blatantly clear that both Wolf and Zevran cheated - they were covered in small cuts. If the duel had been for real, they'd each be dead many times over. Zevran filled a bath from a barrel standing ready.
"It's always the same, isn't it," he shook his head. "They expect you'd want a warm bath... They never bring frost salts, and we're out. Dorian, would you..?"
Dorian was watching in fascination as two men were carefully removing each other's armour and clothing, then checking over each other's wounds...
"What...?" He jerked out of his reverie. "Would I what?"
"Shoot a frost spell at the water," Zevran grinned. "We're out of frost salts."
Slightly bewildered, Dorian obliged, and a thin layer of ice formed on the surface. The bath was large, and both Wolf and Zevran got in, and lay still with their eyes closed.
"Fascinating," Dorian was watching the bleeding on their bodies stop, then Wolf and Zevran getting out of the bath and moving to the bed, and proceding to apply ointments and bandages to each other. "I see you've done this before."
"The number of times that we shared a bed over the past ten years..." Wolf rolled his eyes. "There will be talk tomorrow, of course, about Lord Inquisitor's intimacy with his elf... Pay it no mind. I wanted you to see it."
"I am more interested in your wrists, in fact," Dorian walked over to the bed. "And in your blood magic. And doesn't Zevran object when you speak of him like that..?" He looked at Zevran who shook his head.
"I am an elf, it's true," he grinned. "Let them talk. Solas can stick his sermons where no one will ever find them. I don't understand a word of Elvish, my friend..."
"I'll tell you all about my blood magic tomorrow, Dorian," Wolf smiled. "I can barely keep my eyes open. Training with this assassin is utterly exhausting..." He shot a glance at Zevran who grinned, getting comfortable under the blankets. "But tomorrow we can give rise to a new set of rumours about Lord Inquisitor and his Tevinter mage..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun's Dusk, 3E398 - Grey Wardens
"This discovery weighs heavily upon you," Cassandra sat next to Wolf on a rock overlooking the sea. "This Grey Wardens outpost built over an opening into the Deep Roads... Unmanned since the defeat of the Blight."
"The Wardens here gave their lives to protect the area, but of course they could not stop endless darkspawn armies..." Wolf sighed. "They've done their duty, that's not what weighs on me. It's that I didn't know this outpost even existed."
"Which isn't your fault. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden had been disbanded three hundred years ago. You could not have known," Cassandra objected.
"It was my duty to know, especially when Alistair returned from the Head Quarters with disturbing reports of bureaucracy... perhaps corruption even. I did nothing with that. I committed the same crime as those bureaucrats at the HQ. Indifference. Complacency. Navel gazing." Wolf grimaced and spit.
"You are being too hard on yourself," Cassandra shook her head. "No one can accuse you of that."
"I accuse myself, that's enough."
They sat in silence for a while.
"Blackwall is not taking it as hard as you," Cassandra spoke quietly.
"Blackwall is from Orlais. This is Ferelden. This was my responsibility."
"Blackwall is collecting Grey Wardens artefacts," Cassandra noted matter-of-factly. "Banners, heraldry, fake griffin feathers... He is such an obvious Grey Warden, crests all over... While you wear none of that."
"Tastes differ," Wolf shrugged, looking at her sideways. "I represent the Inquisition now, not Grey Wardens, while Blackwall is the Grey Warden with the Inquisition..."
"No, the Grey Warden with the Inquisition is you," Cassandra objected. "Everyone knows that, without any crests."
"What are you saying, Cassandra?" Wolf hushed his voice even though Blackwall was well out of earshot.
"I am not a Grey Warden and cannot sense the taint," Cassandra lowered her voice as well. "But I can see it anyway. Why are you allowing him to continue this charade?"
"Blackwall is a conscript," Wolf answered slowly, weighing how much to tell her. "It isn't his real name. It was the name of the Grey Warden who conscripted him but died before Blackwall could undergo the Joining. He told me all that."
"And how can you be sure he didn't kill the real Warden himself?" Cassandra squinted.
"To what end?" Wolf shrugged. "I see no reason. Even if Blackwall is hiding from something under that assumed identity, he would have been better off as an actual Grey Warden... No, I think he told the truth. I let him be my conscript for now."
"Do you plan to put him through the Joining?"
"Eventually," Wolf nodded. "But I am in no position to do it now. Especially since what we discovered today."
"About Alistair?" Cassandra didn't want to approach that topic at first, but this seemed like a good opening.
"Exactly," Wolf nodded. "Those two Wardens we met... I don't know them, they look green - must be new recruits. Did you hear what they said?" He looked at Cassandra and she nodded. "That they had orders from their Warden-Commander to arrest Alistair for treason... Alistair!!" Wolf flared his nostrils with anger. "Oh, I know who the traitor is, and it's not he!"
"They were quick to replace you with a new Warden-Commander," Cassandra said softly.
"I'm not worried about that, it was to be expected," Wolf shrugged. "I am not surprised even they didn't pick Alistair for the position because he never wanted to be in command. But this new person... if those are the kind of orders he gives... that's bad business."
"What are you going to do?" Cassandra held her breath.
"Find Alistair," Wolf said quietly. "Find Anders, Oghren, and others of the old guard. Alistair first though, he'll tell us what's been going on. Then find Anders..."
"The mage who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall was named Anders," Cassandra said in a neutral tone, but the tension in her voice was palpable. "Why are you protecting him?"
"It's not the same Anders," Wolf smiled. "Anders isn't a name - it's where he's from, that is Anderfells. And yes, a lot of them are blond, and some of them are mages... But I guarantee you it isn't the same person."
"He claimed to be from the Ferelden Circle of Magi though," Cassandra squinted. "And that he was a Grey Warden."
"I have no answer to that, Cassandra, I never met him," Wolf shook his head. "But it wasn't our Anders. It sounds like someone's been using his identity for some reason..."
"He was a healer in Kirkwall first," Cassandra continued. "Then he vanished for a while, then reappeared, but never resumed his practice... People thought he looked a bit different too, but then, people do change with time."
"Our Anders was a healer in Kirkwall, that's where I found him," Wolf nodded. "Then... well... I might as well tell you... He, I, Varric and Hawke went on an expedition into the Deep Roads organised by Varric's brother Bartrand. We found red lyrium there. It got into Bartrand's head and he locked us out in the Deep Roads to die. We got captured by darkspawn. I managed to send word to the Wardens who came to our rescue. Neither Anders nor I ever returned to Kirkwall after that. So whoever blew up the Chantry there several years later, wasn't our Anders."
"So Varric knew you all along!!" Cassandra nearly jumped up, but steadied herself. "The liar!!!"
"Well, you never asked him about me, have you?" Wolf steadied her. "He lied by omission. He didn't tell lies."
"It's just as bad!" Cassandra's anger was still flaring.
"Your usual interrogation techniques don't work on the likes of Varric," Wolf tried to speak calmly. "The same as they didn't work on me. Instead of bringing him in in chains, you would have been better off inviting him to dinner. Although whether he would have told you more, I am not certain... Varric is very loyal to those he considers friends, and the Chantry isn't one of them."
"You never told me you knew Varric and Hawke either!!" Cassandra turned her anger on Wolf.
"And you never asked me," Wolf smiled. "Like you never asked my name until much later, Seeker." He paused, waiting for Cassandra to cool off. "I am surprised that Leliana didn't tell you who I was the moment she saw me."
"She didn't look at you too closely... Your appearance changed a bit since she last saw you..." Cassandra calmed down. "She blamed herself later for not taking the time to look..."
"Tell her it's fine... we didn't get on back then... but none of it matters now," Wolf dismissed the topic. "It's ten years on, the Blight has been defeated but darkspawn has not. Grey Wardens must stand up to it... but instead, they are declaring Alistair a traitor! That doesn't bode well."
"One day I hope you will tell me who you really are," Cassandra spoke softly. "I know you are not from the Free Marches..."
"One day..." Wolf smiled.
...
"Alistair!" Wolf, Hawke, Varric, Cassandra and Dorian walked into a cave where Alistair was hiding.
"Wolf," Alistair grinned. "And company," he bowed to the others curtly.
"I hear you've been declared a traitor," Wolf went straight to the heart of the matter.
"It's bad business, Wolf," Alistair shook his head. "We've been sold out to Orlais."
"Again?!"
"Well, not the kingdom of Ferelden, just the Wardens," Alistair nodded. "The Queen doesn't interfere in Wardens affairs of course, but the Head Quarters apparently decided that the Ferelden chapter was too small to be... err... economically viable... Yes, I think that was the phrase. So they took your... err... engagement with the Inquisition as the perfect excuse to dissolve the Ferelden chapter altogether and bring us under the Orlaisian one that is led by Warden-Commander Clarel. And she... there's only one way to put it... she's building a demon army."
"Blood magic?"
"With demon binding."
"That's bad."
"That's not all," Alistair sighed. "They are being led by a Tevinter Magister..."
"...who serves everyone's favourite darkspawn lord, no doubt," Wolf guessed.
"I think so."
"What else?"
"Don't you feel it?" Alistair squinted. "I guess your mark shuts it off... lucky you," he smirked. "We're all hearing the Call of the Black City. Even the youngest recruits. So Clarel panicked."
"Why is she after you?"
"Because I protested. Called out her madness..." Alistair sighed. "I've been on the run, but I've also been watching them. I am alright; but the others... I don't know..."
"Anders?" Wolf paled.
"He protested. They took him. Clarel is an incredible mage. Anders cursed, something about being back in the Circle Tower without justice..." Alistair looked away. "I am sorry that I ever doubted him. He is not that kind of a blood mage."
"No, he's got a head on his shoulders," Wolf nodded. "And may be he doesn't hear the Call... or not quite as much. How bad is it?"
"Bad," Alistair shook his head. "It's like a song that you cannot get out of your head. It calls us to die."
"You must stop this," Dorian stepped forward. "I think I know the ritual they are using... well, I know of it," he corrected himself. "It takes a life of a person to bind a demon... a life of another Warden, I presume. And you have to wonder where the demons are coming from. Who commands them? I bet those are no random demons..."
"What are you saying, Dorian?" Wolf and Alistair looked very worried.
"If those demons answer to our darkspawn lord... well... then so do the Wardens. The binding goes both ways."
Everyone held their breath at that revelation.
"Has Clarel gone truly mad?!" Wolf exclaimed in anger. "That she cannot resist the Call? Does the Call tell her to turn to demon binding?!"
"The Call doesn't have a message," Alistair said calmly. "The Call is just a song... it drives us into the Deep Roads... well, you know. The point here is why she is doing it. She believes that once she has a demon army bound to the Wardens, she'll take them to the Deep Roads in search of the Old Gods the same way as darkspawn do it... Only she intends to kill every last Old God so that there would be no more Blights ever. In her mind, she is doing her duty and saving the world..."
"I understand now what old Wardens mean when they say that the Call drives them into insanity..." Wolf said softly.
He paced around the cave. Everyone took a step back, waiting for his decision. He stopped before Alistair.
"It's up to us again, Alistair," he said in a reasonably calm tone. "You and me against the Blight."
"By your lead, Warden-Commander," Alistair smiled.
"You will need my help," Dorian stepped forward. "Because I am from Tevinter."
"Another blood mage?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.
"Well, you know my little problem..." Wolf winked and Alistair rolled his eyes. "Dorian is a mage from Tevinter. That is all."
"And don't even think about going without me," Cassandra stepped forward. "You need a templar."
"Hey, I'm the templar!" Alistair protested.
"The more the merrier," Wolf grinned. "You can have a demon each, there's no need to quarrel."
"That darkspawn lord is my fault, I tracked down his prison, thus facilitating his release," Varric stepped forward. "So I'm with you as well. Bianca is excited."
"But I don't have a death wish," Hawke shook his head. "I am no Grey Warden, I am not with the Inquisition, there's no reason why I should join you. So I'm leaving." He turned around and walked towards the exit.
"Err... well... thanks for your help finding Alistair," Wolf said after him. "You never wanted to have anything to do with blood, I remember."
"He just wants you to ask him nicely," Varric smiled, looking affectionately at Hawke walking away.
"Why should I?" Wolf shrugged. "This is Grey Wardens' mess. Hawke never trusted us, and with good reason. I understand and reciprocate the sentiment."
"You don't trust me?!" Hawke spun around and flew at Wolf. "How dare you?!"
"I barely know you," Wolf remained calm. "I heard there was some bad business in Kirkwall, but I had nothing to do with it. Grey Wardens had nothing to do with it."
"Your Anders blew up the Chantry and set it all in motion!!!" Hawke bellowed. "How dare you say you Wardens had nothing to do with it!?"
"Ah, yes, I wondered about that," Wolf nodded and shot a glance at Cassandra who nodded back. "I wondered who would impersonate Grey Warden Anders and why. It seems someone was eager to implicate us in that disaster..."
"It was the same Anders!!" Hawke didn't give up. "I met him, remember? I met him when you were in Kirkwall! I remember you fussing over him like a mother hen all the while in the Deep Roads! Carrying him back to Vigil Keep! And then he returned several years later and blew up the Chantry!"
"Go, Hawke," Wolf faced him, pale as a sheet. "Just go. This is Grey Wardens' business."
Hawke stormed off. Wolf looked at Cassandra, Dorian and Varric and addressed Cassandra.
"Like I said - this is our mess. The Inquisition does not have to get involved. I cannot play Lord Inquisitor here, it is up to you, Cassandra, what the Inquisition will do. Anyone who wishes to join Alistair and me, will walk with Grey Wardens on this. I will understand if you reconsider."
"We should return to Skyhold and speak with the others," Cassandra nodded. "I am still coming with you though, Warden. Don't ask why."
"This discovery weighs heavily upon you," Cassandra sat next to Wolf on a rock overlooking the sea. "This Grey Wardens outpost built over an opening into the Deep Roads... Unmanned since the defeat of the Blight."
"The Wardens here gave their lives to protect the area, but of course they could not stop endless darkspawn armies..." Wolf sighed. "They've done their duty, that's not what weighs on me. It's that I didn't know this outpost even existed."
"Which isn't your fault. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden had been disbanded three hundred years ago. You could not have known," Cassandra objected.
"It was my duty to know, especially when Alistair returned from the Head Quarters with disturbing reports of bureaucracy... perhaps corruption even. I did nothing with that. I committed the same crime as those bureaucrats at the HQ. Indifference. Complacency. Navel gazing." Wolf grimaced and spit.
"You are being too hard on yourself," Cassandra shook her head. "No one can accuse you of that."
"I accuse myself, that's enough."
They sat in silence for a while.
"Blackwall is not taking it as hard as you," Cassandra spoke quietly.
"Blackwall is from Orlais. This is Ferelden. This was my responsibility."
"Blackwall is collecting Grey Wardens artefacts," Cassandra noted matter-of-factly. "Banners, heraldry, fake griffin feathers... He is such an obvious Grey Warden, crests all over... While you wear none of that."
"Tastes differ," Wolf shrugged, looking at her sideways. "I represent the Inquisition now, not Grey Wardens, while Blackwall is the Grey Warden with the Inquisition..."
"No, the Grey Warden with the Inquisition is you," Cassandra objected. "Everyone knows that, without any crests."
"What are you saying, Cassandra?" Wolf hushed his voice even though Blackwall was well out of earshot.
"I am not a Grey Warden and cannot sense the taint," Cassandra lowered her voice as well. "But I can see it anyway. Why are you allowing him to continue this charade?"
"Blackwall is a conscript," Wolf answered slowly, weighing how much to tell her. "It isn't his real name. It was the name of the Grey Warden who conscripted him but died before Blackwall could undergo the Joining. He told me all that."
"And how can you be sure he didn't kill the real Warden himself?" Cassandra squinted.
"To what end?" Wolf shrugged. "I see no reason. Even if Blackwall is hiding from something under that assumed identity, he would have been better off as an actual Grey Warden... No, I think he told the truth. I let him be my conscript for now."
"Do you plan to put him through the Joining?"
"Eventually," Wolf nodded. "But I am in no position to do it now. Especially since what we discovered today."
"About Alistair?" Cassandra didn't want to approach that topic at first, but this seemed like a good opening.
"Exactly," Wolf nodded. "Those two Wardens we met... I don't know them, they look green - must be new recruits. Did you hear what they said?" He looked at Cassandra and she nodded. "That they had orders from their Warden-Commander to arrest Alistair for treason... Alistair!!" Wolf flared his nostrils with anger. "Oh, I know who the traitor is, and it's not he!"
"They were quick to replace you with a new Warden-Commander," Cassandra said softly.
"I'm not worried about that, it was to be expected," Wolf shrugged. "I am not surprised even they didn't pick Alistair for the position because he never wanted to be in command. But this new person... if those are the kind of orders he gives... that's bad business."
"What are you going to do?" Cassandra held her breath.
"Find Alistair," Wolf said quietly. "Find Anders, Oghren, and others of the old guard. Alistair first though, he'll tell us what's been going on. Then find Anders..."
"The mage who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall was named Anders," Cassandra said in a neutral tone, but the tension in her voice was palpable. "Why are you protecting him?"
"It's not the same Anders," Wolf smiled. "Anders isn't a name - it's where he's from, that is Anderfells. And yes, a lot of them are blond, and some of them are mages... But I guarantee you it isn't the same person."
"He claimed to be from the Ferelden Circle of Magi though," Cassandra squinted. "And that he was a Grey Warden."
"I have no answer to that, Cassandra, I never met him," Wolf shook his head. "But it wasn't our Anders. It sounds like someone's been using his identity for some reason..."
"He was a healer in Kirkwall first," Cassandra continued. "Then he vanished for a while, then reappeared, but never resumed his practice... People thought he looked a bit different too, but then, people do change with time."
"Our Anders was a healer in Kirkwall, that's where I found him," Wolf nodded. "Then... well... I might as well tell you... He, I, Varric and Hawke went on an expedition into the Deep Roads organised by Varric's brother Bartrand. We found red lyrium there. It got into Bartrand's head and he locked us out in the Deep Roads to die. We got captured by darkspawn. I managed to send word to the Wardens who came to our rescue. Neither Anders nor I ever returned to Kirkwall after that. So whoever blew up the Chantry there several years later, wasn't our Anders."
"So Varric knew you all along!!" Cassandra nearly jumped up, but steadied herself. "The liar!!!"
"Well, you never asked him about me, have you?" Wolf steadied her. "He lied by omission. He didn't tell lies."
"It's just as bad!" Cassandra's anger was still flaring.
"Your usual interrogation techniques don't work on the likes of Varric," Wolf tried to speak calmly. "The same as they didn't work on me. Instead of bringing him in in chains, you would have been better off inviting him to dinner. Although whether he would have told you more, I am not certain... Varric is very loyal to those he considers friends, and the Chantry isn't one of them."
"You never told me you knew Varric and Hawke either!!" Cassandra turned her anger on Wolf.
"And you never asked me," Wolf smiled. "Like you never asked my name until much later, Seeker." He paused, waiting for Cassandra to cool off. "I am surprised that Leliana didn't tell you who I was the moment she saw me."
"She didn't look at you too closely... Your appearance changed a bit since she last saw you..." Cassandra calmed down. "She blamed herself later for not taking the time to look..."
"Tell her it's fine... we didn't get on back then... but none of it matters now," Wolf dismissed the topic. "It's ten years on, the Blight has been defeated but darkspawn has not. Grey Wardens must stand up to it... but instead, they are declaring Alistair a traitor! That doesn't bode well."
"One day I hope you will tell me who you really are," Cassandra spoke softly. "I know you are not from the Free Marches..."
"One day..." Wolf smiled.
...
"Alistair!" Wolf, Hawke, Varric, Cassandra and Dorian walked into a cave where Alistair was hiding.
"Wolf," Alistair grinned. "And company," he bowed to the others curtly.
"I hear you've been declared a traitor," Wolf went straight to the heart of the matter.
"It's bad business, Wolf," Alistair shook his head. "We've been sold out to Orlais."
"Again?!"
"Well, not the kingdom of Ferelden, just the Wardens," Alistair nodded. "The Queen doesn't interfere in Wardens affairs of course, but the Head Quarters apparently decided that the Ferelden chapter was too small to be... err... economically viable... Yes, I think that was the phrase. So they took your... err... engagement with the Inquisition as the perfect excuse to dissolve the Ferelden chapter altogether and bring us under the Orlaisian one that is led by Warden-Commander Clarel. And she... there's only one way to put it... she's building a demon army."
"Blood magic?"
"With demon binding."
"That's bad."
"That's not all," Alistair sighed. "They are being led by a Tevinter Magister..."
"...who serves everyone's favourite darkspawn lord, no doubt," Wolf guessed.
"I think so."
"What else?"
"Don't you feel it?" Alistair squinted. "I guess your mark shuts it off... lucky you," he smirked. "We're all hearing the Call of the Black City. Even the youngest recruits. So Clarel panicked."
"Why is she after you?"
"Because I protested. Called out her madness..." Alistair sighed. "I've been on the run, but I've also been watching them. I am alright; but the others... I don't know..."
"Anders?" Wolf paled.
"He protested. They took him. Clarel is an incredible mage. Anders cursed, something about being back in the Circle Tower without justice..." Alistair looked away. "I am sorry that I ever doubted him. He is not that kind of a blood mage."
"No, he's got a head on his shoulders," Wolf nodded. "And may be he doesn't hear the Call... or not quite as much. How bad is it?"
"Bad," Alistair shook his head. "It's like a song that you cannot get out of your head. It calls us to die."
"You must stop this," Dorian stepped forward. "I think I know the ritual they are using... well, I know of it," he corrected himself. "It takes a life of a person to bind a demon... a life of another Warden, I presume. And you have to wonder where the demons are coming from. Who commands them? I bet those are no random demons..."
"What are you saying, Dorian?" Wolf and Alistair looked very worried.
"If those demons answer to our darkspawn lord... well... then so do the Wardens. The binding goes both ways."
Everyone held their breath at that revelation.
"Has Clarel gone truly mad?!" Wolf exclaimed in anger. "That she cannot resist the Call? Does the Call tell her to turn to demon binding?!"
"The Call doesn't have a message," Alistair said calmly. "The Call is just a song... it drives us into the Deep Roads... well, you know. The point here is why she is doing it. She believes that once she has a demon army bound to the Wardens, she'll take them to the Deep Roads in search of the Old Gods the same way as darkspawn do it... Only she intends to kill every last Old God so that there would be no more Blights ever. In her mind, she is doing her duty and saving the world..."
"I understand now what old Wardens mean when they say that the Call drives them into insanity..." Wolf said softly.
He paced around the cave. Everyone took a step back, waiting for his decision. He stopped before Alistair.
"It's up to us again, Alistair," he said in a reasonably calm tone. "You and me against the Blight."
"By your lead, Warden-Commander," Alistair smiled.
"You will need my help," Dorian stepped forward. "Because I am from Tevinter."
"Another blood mage?" Alistair raised an eyebrow.
"Well, you know my little problem..." Wolf winked and Alistair rolled his eyes. "Dorian is a mage from Tevinter. That is all."
"And don't even think about going without me," Cassandra stepped forward. "You need a templar."
"Hey, I'm the templar!" Alistair protested.
"The more the merrier," Wolf grinned. "You can have a demon each, there's no need to quarrel."
"That darkspawn lord is my fault, I tracked down his prison, thus facilitating his release," Varric stepped forward. "So I'm with you as well. Bianca is excited."
"But I don't have a death wish," Hawke shook his head. "I am no Grey Warden, I am not with the Inquisition, there's no reason why I should join you. So I'm leaving." He turned around and walked towards the exit.
"Err... well... thanks for your help finding Alistair," Wolf said after him. "You never wanted to have anything to do with blood, I remember."
"He just wants you to ask him nicely," Varric smiled, looking affectionately at Hawke walking away.
"Why should I?" Wolf shrugged. "This is Grey Wardens' mess. Hawke never trusted us, and with good reason. I understand and reciprocate the sentiment."
"You don't trust me?!" Hawke spun around and flew at Wolf. "How dare you?!"
"I barely know you," Wolf remained calm. "I heard there was some bad business in Kirkwall, but I had nothing to do with it. Grey Wardens had nothing to do with it."
"Your Anders blew up the Chantry and set it all in motion!!!" Hawke bellowed. "How dare you say you Wardens had nothing to do with it!?"
"Ah, yes, I wondered about that," Wolf nodded and shot a glance at Cassandra who nodded back. "I wondered who would impersonate Grey Warden Anders and why. It seems someone was eager to implicate us in that disaster..."
"It was the same Anders!!" Hawke didn't give up. "I met him, remember? I met him when you were in Kirkwall! I remember you fussing over him like a mother hen all the while in the Deep Roads! Carrying him back to Vigil Keep! And then he returned several years later and blew up the Chantry!"
"Go, Hawke," Wolf faced him, pale as a sheet. "Just go. This is Grey Wardens' business."
Hawke stormed off. Wolf looked at Cassandra, Dorian and Varric and addressed Cassandra.
"Like I said - this is our mess. The Inquisition does not have to get involved. I cannot play Lord Inquisitor here, it is up to you, Cassandra, what the Inquisition will do. Anyone who wishes to join Alistair and me, will walk with Grey Wardens on this. I will understand if you reconsider."
"We should return to Skyhold and speak with the others," Cassandra nodded. "I am still coming with you though, Warden. Don't ask why."
Sun's Dusk, 3E398 - Here lies the abyss
"Absolutely out of the question!" Leliana shook her head and stomped her foot. "The Inquisition will NOT support Grey Wardens! And if you wish to quit, then quit! We should have never made you Lord Inquisitor, I knew it!!"
"I see," Wolf looked at her coldly. Cassandra had just retold the meeting with Alistair for Leliana, Cullen and Josephine. Together they were the Inquisition. "I have no issue quitting. But seeing how you need the mark on my hand to close Fade rifts, I don't see what you will do without me."
"Solas said we could not cut off his hand!" Josephine quickly intervened. "Don't even think it! Like it or not, we need the Warden with us. Although may be not necessarily as Lord Inquisitor."
"Fine..." Leliana glared at them all. "But we will not help him fix up that mess with the Wardens! We should just kill them all!"
"Err... I won't sacrifice our forces for this," Cullen shook his head. "You want to storm the fortress they are in... It's an ancient fortress, and we could raise it to the ground... But there's a contingent of Grey Wardens in it with a small army of demons! If we attack, they'll see us as the enemy, and I don't want every Inquisition soldier dead, because that's what will happen!"
As usual, they could not agree on anything. Wolf shook his head and left. He was going to make his own arrangements.
"I hear you are going to help the Wardens," Blackwall stopped him in the yard. "Take me with you."
"No," Wolf shook his head. "Cassandra figured out you are no Grey Warden, and if she could see it, so can the others. Sit this one out, Blackwall. When this is all over, you'll take the Joining."
"Well... it's not what I wanted to hear, but I understand..." He sighed. "Good luck to you, Commander."
Wolf was going to see the Iron Bull, the head of a mercenary unit working with them, but Cullen barred his way in an empty corridor.
"I said I won't sacrifice our forces and I won't," he started. "But I don't think you were planning a frontal assault. I know you are not afraid of demons... I remember the Circle Tower. But you will now be facing many hostile mages as well as demons - mages controlled by the darkspawn lord. We have templars among our troops. Take them with you."
"That's rather unexpected, Cullen," Wolf smiled. "Thank you. But I don't want our forces dead either."
"What is your plan, Commander?" Cullen spoke in a rather formal tone. "You do have a plan, I hope?"
"I do, Commander," Wolf replied equally formally. "Alistair obtained plans of the Adamant Fortress - it is no great secret among Grey Wardens since the fortress is so old. We've gone through them. There are several side entrances, but the desert has been encroaching on the building. We don't know which entrances will yield, but I am sure we'll find some. Then our first goal will be to find our people - Anders, Oghren and others that protested. They are likely held captive, I do hope Clarel keeps them till last... Then we'll sweep through the fortress and kill every demon and every mage that became possessed through that ritual... They are beyond saving, I have no illusions. They have become abominations," he paused with a sigh, shaking his head. "We'll try to avoid fighting other Wardens... if any of them recognise me, it'll help, I hope... The ultimate goal is to find Clarel. She will die... either by her own hand or by ours, but this madness will stop there."
He stopped talking and looked Cullen in the eye.
"It's a good plan," Cullen nodded and smiled. "I'll have templars follow your progress. As backup. They'll join in when the fighting heats up. They'll answer to you. The rest of us will stay outside and guard all exits. Good luck to you, Commander."
...
The Adamant Fortress stood guard on the Western edge of the civilised world. Beyond it was nothing but an unforgiving desert with sulfurous smoke erupting from the cracks in the earth. This was where darkspawn emerged from the underground, in particular during a Blight. The fortress stood surrounded by sand on all sides.
Wolf, Alistair, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian formed the forward force meant to break through one of the back doors. A group of templars was following them a short distance behind keeping them in view but staying out of the way. More Inquisition troops were positioned further away, almost fading into the hot air rising from the sand.
"This door will yield," Wolf was pushing a heavy wooden door. "Dig it out a bit and let's give it a good push! Again! And again!" The door eventually yielded, opening a crack, and they pried it open fully. It wasn't locked, it was just blocked by sand and debris. It led into a gloomy corridor, seemingly unused for at least a thousand years.
"This corridor leads into the depths," Alistair checked his map. "Into the dungeons, perhaps?"
"It's worth checking," Wolf agreed.
They descended several flights of stairs, took multiple turns... and got lost within five minutes of entering. The corridor was completely dark which didn't help orientation.
"Did anyone bring a lantern?" Wolf asked in a tired voice. "Don't tell me we forgot about lanterns!"
"We did," Dorian spoke from the darkness. "But luckily, you've got me." He produced two small lanterns from his pack. "Cave diving was something I did quite a lot as a boy," he smiled. "You quickly learn to always bring lanterns."
"I expected a magical light, to be honest," Alistair smirked, attaching a lantern to his belt. "But this is better."
The lanterns did help to see where they were going, but they didn't help to know where the corridors led to. Eventually they saw torches up ahead - a clear sign of civilisation. Strong stench of alcoholic breath was another sign.
"Who goes there?" They heard a hoarse voice. "I shall sodding have your heads, you bleeding idiots!!"
They turned a corner and saw a row of cells. Only one cell had an occupant.
"Brainless morons!!" The voice continued to swear. "Lock me up, will you?! I am sodding not giving my blood to no Orlaisian bird!!!"
"Oghren?" Wolf approached the cell. "It must be you, no one swears with quite the same flare."
"Commander!" Oghren was sitting on the floor, empty bottles all around him. "Are you real or have I finally drank myself into delirium?"
"I am quite real," Wolf laughed. "Alistair can confirm it."
Oghren got up rather unsteadily, shook himself like a dog in the rain, then spoke with a lot less slur.
"I drink because it keeps the song away," he explained. "It drives me mad, it does. But I am not giving my blood to summon a demon! That's madness!"
"And so they locked you up," Wolf nodded. "Hang on..." He tried to pick the lock but had to let Varric do it instead. "So. It's too bad you are not armed..."
"I don't need to be," Oghren shook his head. "I'll be armed as soon as we run into trouble," he grinned. "What's the plan?"
"Sweep the dungeons, sweep the fortress, kill Clarel," Wolf summarised. "Do you know who else was taken and where they are?"
"A few others were taken, aye," Oghren nodded. "They didn't put us together, but these dungeons are huge. They mostly were separating mages from warriors... Anders is here somewhere, and a few other lads and lasses... Let's go."
They swept through the dungeons, now using the map and trying to make sure not to miss any passages. They found Anders and a few other Wardens. Next they would come out into the open and need to fight.
"Now we separate," Wolf decided. "Two groups. Cassandra and Anders with me, Varric and Dorian with Alistair. We go left, Alistair goes right, we meet in the middle. If there's a ritual taking place, it'll be there. The rest of you hang back until you have a weapon." He glared at Oghren who was about to protest. "There will be casualties, and I want them as few as possible!" He looked at everyone and they nodded. "Try not to kill your fellow Wardens, but watch for mages that turned... we are too late for them." He paused and everyone remained silent. "Good luck to you all."
They separated. When they turned a corner, Wolf stopped.
"Ready?" He looked at Anders. "You've got no staff."
"I don't need a staff." Anders fingered his dagger. "I'll pick one up along the way. Do you intend to..?"
"Yes," Wolf said and Anders nodded.
"Ready."
"Cassandra," Wolf turned to her. "Your faith in me will be severely tested. I shall answer all your questions when this is over... My intention is unchanged. My methods will shock you."
"I think I know what you mean," Cassandra said quietly. "I've seen the scars on your wrists... But you are not a mage... I don't understand... I guess I'll see it."
"That you will."
...
Fighting on the battlements was ferocious. Too many Warden mages had already been bound to demons, and so both the mages and their demons had to be defeated. Yet a number of Wardens were still unaffected, and they quickly saw sense and stopped fighting.
"They have been performing these rituals for days now," one such Warden told Wolf. "They'd take a mage and a warrior, and have the mage sacrifice the warrior for the ritual. They'd use his blood to summon a demon and bind it to the mage. It was meant to strengthen the mages, and thus the Wardens as a whole, but we can see clearly that the mages lost all free will as a result... They are controlled by that Magister that performed the ritual. So we refuse to be sacrificed, both for our sake and for the mages'... Many mages see it too... And yet they seem to be controlled by him even before the ritual... That's strange..."
"They are probably affected by the Call more than warriors," Anders suggested. "Because mages have a connection to the Fade... isn't it where the Call comes from?"
"Possibly," Wolf agreed. "And I presume you are not affected because..."
"Oh, I'm affected," Anders shook his head. "But probably less than most... because of Justice, yes," he smiled. "I can hear the Call but it doesn't drive me mad."
"That sounds like..." Cassandra started, but then cut herself off. "We can talk later. We still have a lot of demons and abominations to slay."
She kept her comments to herself. Wolf slit his wrists many times using his blood to drive back demons and to paralyse mages, or simply to throw off attackers when he got surrounded. He slit his wrists to lend aid to Anders who also repeatedly slit his. It was blood magic against blood magic. "Dorian must be using necromancy," Wolf thought, watching Cassandra tear through a pack of demons with her templar's mace, then falling back. "That's too many demons even for a Seeker..."
Dorian did use necromancy. Less well known than blood magic, necromancy was still frowned upon and even partially outlawed, akin to blood magic. Dorian started raising corpses when their party got overwhelmed. Alistair was taken aback at first, but then quickly realised that corpses were helping them, not fighting against them. "Well, that makes for a welcome change..." He grinned, watching Dorian raise another corpse. "Unconventional, but hey, so are these demons..." Alistair had come a long way since the days when he wanted to execute every apostate mage without a trial.
Wolf and Alistair reached the middle section almost at the same time. There was a platform there and a large open surface covering the roof of the main keep, mages stood on one side of it, warriors on the other. An altar was erected on the platform, it had blood stains on it. A mage in Tevinter robes was directing a ritual. He called forward one mage and one warrior and directed the mage to slit the warrior's throat. The sacrifice had to be done in person to work. The warrior's bleeding body was put on the altar and the mage made the blood in it boil and rise, which in turn brought forward a demon out of a tear in the Veil. The demon was bound to the mage, and the mage became a slave of the Magister.
Seeing Wolf and Alistair appearing, the Magister interrupted the ritual.
"You are too late, Commander!" He shouted with glee. "My Lord will have his Grey Warden army!" He commanded the mages to raise their hands and they did. "It is not I who commands them, it is My Lord. I merely use the spell He taught me! The taint in their blood - in your blood! - is most convenient! But let us not stop on this account!" He turned to the mages that had not been bound to demons yet. "Who's next?" Several mages stepped forward, their eyes glazed over. "You see? They obey even before the ritual! Oh, but let us do something special, now that the Warden-Commander is here!" He smirked and looked aound. "Warden-Commander Clarel! Come forward! I have a special demon waiting for you!"
Clarel stepped onto the platform, and an outline of a huge Pride Demon appeared in the Veil tear.
"Bring forward your sacrifice!" The Magister commanded and one of the older warrior stepped onto the platform. "Well, you know what to do," he said encouragingly to Clarel and smiled.
"My friend," she addressed the warrior. "After all these years... I have to ask this last sacrifice of you..."
"If my sword arm can no longer serve you, then I hope my blood will," he looked at her with affection and went down on one knee.
"It will, my friend, it will..." She stood behind him and slit his throat, tears running down her face. She then carefully put the warrior's body onto the altar and prepared to start the ritual.
"Clarel! Stop!" Wolf cried out, pushing forward through the crowd. "The Call that you hear isn't real! Your Magister serves a darkspawn lord!"
"Not real..?" She stopped, looking at Wolf through her tears. "But we all hear it... Which is why we have to make that final push... to end all Blights..."
"You hear the Call not because the taint has finally corrupted your body," Wolf spoke with urgency. "You hear it because it comes from the darkspawn lord! Just like the Call of the Archdemon... The one I slayed some ten years past. Ten years! Think! It is too soon for another Blight!"
"I... what have I done..?" She looked around her, as if only now seeing glazed over expressions on the faces of her mages, now bound to the darkspawn lord. "You!!" She turned to the Magister. "You lied to us!! You said it would stop all Blights!"
"And you clutched that excuse without question!" He sneered. "You were all too greedy for all the power! Just look at the demon waiting to do your bidding! That is the Call that you cannot resist!"
He laughed derisively. Clarel's face contorted with rage and she flung a lightning bolt at him, throwing him on the ground.
"Oh I see," he scrambled to his feet. "My Lord warned me that this could happen. Which is why he taught me another spell..."
He cast a spell, and a shriek and a roar filled the air. A great big undead dragon descended onto the fortress, a dragon very much resembling an Archdemon.
"What?!" Clarel was furious. She shot another bolt at the Magister, nearly killing him where he stood. She was back in control, but it was too late. Great many mages and warriors had been sacrificed already. "No!!" She turned her attention to the dragon. "Not on my watch! Oh what have I done..." She shot a bolt at the dragon and it reeled in pain and took to the air. Clarel went after it, running up the watchtower, expecting the dragon to land there. Demons and mages bound to them attacked the other Wardens turning the roof into a bloody battlefield. Wolf signalled his party to leave the battle and to charge after Clarel. If they could kill the dragon, it was their duty to do so.
Clarel was ahead of them. She kept shooting lightning bolts at the dragon, trying to force it to land. It kept shrieking and circling the tower but didn't fly away and didn't land. Anders, Dorian and Varric added their shots to Clarel's, and Wolf regretted bitterly not bringing his crossbow. Finally the dragon seemed to weaken, another bolt would bring it down... and it did. The dragon crashed into the tower, taking tons of brickwork towards the abyss on the other side. Clarel dived after it, the dragon rose once again, then fell onto the tower, smashing the rest of it and sending the debris and the people into the abyss. The last thing Wolf saw before the abyss closed in, was Clarel plunging her staff into the dragon's skull.
In death, Sacrifice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Absolutely out of the question!" Leliana shook her head and stomped her foot. "The Inquisition will NOT support Grey Wardens! And if you wish to quit, then quit! We should have never made you Lord Inquisitor, I knew it!!"
"I see," Wolf looked at her coldly. Cassandra had just retold the meeting with Alistair for Leliana, Cullen and Josephine. Together they were the Inquisition. "I have no issue quitting. But seeing how you need the mark on my hand to close Fade rifts, I don't see what you will do without me."
"Solas said we could not cut off his hand!" Josephine quickly intervened. "Don't even think it! Like it or not, we need the Warden with us. Although may be not necessarily as Lord Inquisitor."
"Fine..." Leliana glared at them all. "But we will not help him fix up that mess with the Wardens! We should just kill them all!"
"Err... I won't sacrifice our forces for this," Cullen shook his head. "You want to storm the fortress they are in... It's an ancient fortress, and we could raise it to the ground... But there's a contingent of Grey Wardens in it with a small army of demons! If we attack, they'll see us as the enemy, and I don't want every Inquisition soldier dead, because that's what will happen!"
As usual, they could not agree on anything. Wolf shook his head and left. He was going to make his own arrangements.
"I hear you are going to help the Wardens," Blackwall stopped him in the yard. "Take me with you."
"No," Wolf shook his head. "Cassandra figured out you are no Grey Warden, and if she could see it, so can the others. Sit this one out, Blackwall. When this is all over, you'll take the Joining."
"Well... it's not what I wanted to hear, but I understand..." He sighed. "Good luck to you, Commander."
Wolf was going to see the Iron Bull, the head of a mercenary unit working with them, but Cullen barred his way in an empty corridor.
"I said I won't sacrifice our forces and I won't," he started. "But I don't think you were planning a frontal assault. I know you are not afraid of demons... I remember the Circle Tower. But you will now be facing many hostile mages as well as demons - mages controlled by the darkspawn lord. We have templars among our troops. Take them with you."
"That's rather unexpected, Cullen," Wolf smiled. "Thank you. But I don't want our forces dead either."
"What is your plan, Commander?" Cullen spoke in a rather formal tone. "You do have a plan, I hope?"
"I do, Commander," Wolf replied equally formally. "Alistair obtained plans of the Adamant Fortress - it is no great secret among Grey Wardens since the fortress is so old. We've gone through them. There are several side entrances, but the desert has been encroaching on the building. We don't know which entrances will yield, but I am sure we'll find some. Then our first goal will be to find our people - Anders, Oghren and others that protested. They are likely held captive, I do hope Clarel keeps them till last... Then we'll sweep through the fortress and kill every demon and every mage that became possessed through that ritual... They are beyond saving, I have no illusions. They have become abominations," he paused with a sigh, shaking his head. "We'll try to avoid fighting other Wardens... if any of them recognise me, it'll help, I hope... The ultimate goal is to find Clarel. She will die... either by her own hand or by ours, but this madness will stop there."
He stopped talking and looked Cullen in the eye.
"It's a good plan," Cullen nodded and smiled. "I'll have templars follow your progress. As backup. They'll join in when the fighting heats up. They'll answer to you. The rest of us will stay outside and guard all exits. Good luck to you, Commander."
...
The Adamant Fortress stood guard on the Western edge of the civilised world. Beyond it was nothing but an unforgiving desert with sulfurous smoke erupting from the cracks in the earth. This was where darkspawn emerged from the underground, in particular during a Blight. The fortress stood surrounded by sand on all sides.
Wolf, Alistair, Cassandra, Varric and Dorian formed the forward force meant to break through one of the back doors. A group of templars was following them a short distance behind keeping them in view but staying out of the way. More Inquisition troops were positioned further away, almost fading into the hot air rising from the sand.
"This door will yield," Wolf was pushing a heavy wooden door. "Dig it out a bit and let's give it a good push! Again! And again!" The door eventually yielded, opening a crack, and they pried it open fully. It wasn't locked, it was just blocked by sand and debris. It led into a gloomy corridor, seemingly unused for at least a thousand years.
"This corridor leads into the depths," Alistair checked his map. "Into the dungeons, perhaps?"
"It's worth checking," Wolf agreed.
They descended several flights of stairs, took multiple turns... and got lost within five minutes of entering. The corridor was completely dark which didn't help orientation.
"Did anyone bring a lantern?" Wolf asked in a tired voice. "Don't tell me we forgot about lanterns!"
"We did," Dorian spoke from the darkness. "But luckily, you've got me." He produced two small lanterns from his pack. "Cave diving was something I did quite a lot as a boy," he smiled. "You quickly learn to always bring lanterns."
"I expected a magical light, to be honest," Alistair smirked, attaching a lantern to his belt. "But this is better."
The lanterns did help to see where they were going, but they didn't help to know where the corridors led to. Eventually they saw torches up ahead - a clear sign of civilisation. Strong stench of alcoholic breath was another sign.
"Who goes there?" They heard a hoarse voice. "I shall sodding have your heads, you bleeding idiots!!"
They turned a corner and saw a row of cells. Only one cell had an occupant.
"Brainless morons!!" The voice continued to swear. "Lock me up, will you?! I am sodding not giving my blood to no Orlaisian bird!!!"
"Oghren?" Wolf approached the cell. "It must be you, no one swears with quite the same flare."
"Commander!" Oghren was sitting on the floor, empty bottles all around him. "Are you real or have I finally drank myself into delirium?"
"I am quite real," Wolf laughed. "Alistair can confirm it."
Oghren got up rather unsteadily, shook himself like a dog in the rain, then spoke with a lot less slur.
"I drink because it keeps the song away," he explained. "It drives me mad, it does. But I am not giving my blood to summon a demon! That's madness!"
"And so they locked you up," Wolf nodded. "Hang on..." He tried to pick the lock but had to let Varric do it instead. "So. It's too bad you are not armed..."
"I don't need to be," Oghren shook his head. "I'll be armed as soon as we run into trouble," he grinned. "What's the plan?"
"Sweep the dungeons, sweep the fortress, kill Clarel," Wolf summarised. "Do you know who else was taken and where they are?"
"A few others were taken, aye," Oghren nodded. "They didn't put us together, but these dungeons are huge. They mostly were separating mages from warriors... Anders is here somewhere, and a few other lads and lasses... Let's go."
They swept through the dungeons, now using the map and trying to make sure not to miss any passages. They found Anders and a few other Wardens. Next they would come out into the open and need to fight.
"Now we separate," Wolf decided. "Two groups. Cassandra and Anders with me, Varric and Dorian with Alistair. We go left, Alistair goes right, we meet in the middle. If there's a ritual taking place, it'll be there. The rest of you hang back until you have a weapon." He glared at Oghren who was about to protest. "There will be casualties, and I want them as few as possible!" He looked at everyone and they nodded. "Try not to kill your fellow Wardens, but watch for mages that turned... we are too late for them." He paused and everyone remained silent. "Good luck to you all."
They separated. When they turned a corner, Wolf stopped.
"Ready?" He looked at Anders. "You've got no staff."
"I don't need a staff." Anders fingered his dagger. "I'll pick one up along the way. Do you intend to..?"
"Yes," Wolf said and Anders nodded.
"Ready."
"Cassandra," Wolf turned to her. "Your faith in me will be severely tested. I shall answer all your questions when this is over... My intention is unchanged. My methods will shock you."
"I think I know what you mean," Cassandra said quietly. "I've seen the scars on your wrists... But you are not a mage... I don't understand... I guess I'll see it."
"That you will."
...
Fighting on the battlements was ferocious. Too many Warden mages had already been bound to demons, and so both the mages and their demons had to be defeated. Yet a number of Wardens were still unaffected, and they quickly saw sense and stopped fighting.
"They have been performing these rituals for days now," one such Warden told Wolf. "They'd take a mage and a warrior, and have the mage sacrifice the warrior for the ritual. They'd use his blood to summon a demon and bind it to the mage. It was meant to strengthen the mages, and thus the Wardens as a whole, but we can see clearly that the mages lost all free will as a result... They are controlled by that Magister that performed the ritual. So we refuse to be sacrificed, both for our sake and for the mages'... Many mages see it too... And yet they seem to be controlled by him even before the ritual... That's strange..."
"They are probably affected by the Call more than warriors," Anders suggested. "Because mages have a connection to the Fade... isn't it where the Call comes from?"
"Possibly," Wolf agreed. "And I presume you are not affected because..."
"Oh, I'm affected," Anders shook his head. "But probably less than most... because of Justice, yes," he smiled. "I can hear the Call but it doesn't drive me mad."
"That sounds like..." Cassandra started, but then cut herself off. "We can talk later. We still have a lot of demons and abominations to slay."
She kept her comments to herself. Wolf slit his wrists many times using his blood to drive back demons and to paralyse mages, or simply to throw off attackers when he got surrounded. He slit his wrists to lend aid to Anders who also repeatedly slit his. It was blood magic against blood magic. "Dorian must be using necromancy," Wolf thought, watching Cassandra tear through a pack of demons with her templar's mace, then falling back. "That's too many demons even for a Seeker..."
Dorian did use necromancy. Less well known than blood magic, necromancy was still frowned upon and even partially outlawed, akin to blood magic. Dorian started raising corpses when their party got overwhelmed. Alistair was taken aback at first, but then quickly realised that corpses were helping them, not fighting against them. "Well, that makes for a welcome change..." He grinned, watching Dorian raise another corpse. "Unconventional, but hey, so are these demons..." Alistair had come a long way since the days when he wanted to execute every apostate mage without a trial.
Wolf and Alistair reached the middle section almost at the same time. There was a platform there and a large open surface covering the roof of the main keep, mages stood on one side of it, warriors on the other. An altar was erected on the platform, it had blood stains on it. A mage in Tevinter robes was directing a ritual. He called forward one mage and one warrior and directed the mage to slit the warrior's throat. The sacrifice had to be done in person to work. The warrior's bleeding body was put on the altar and the mage made the blood in it boil and rise, which in turn brought forward a demon out of a tear in the Veil. The demon was bound to the mage, and the mage became a slave of the Magister.
Seeing Wolf and Alistair appearing, the Magister interrupted the ritual.
"You are too late, Commander!" He shouted with glee. "My Lord will have his Grey Warden army!" He commanded the mages to raise their hands and they did. "It is not I who commands them, it is My Lord. I merely use the spell He taught me! The taint in their blood - in your blood! - is most convenient! But let us not stop on this account!" He turned to the mages that had not been bound to demons yet. "Who's next?" Several mages stepped forward, their eyes glazed over. "You see? They obey even before the ritual! Oh, but let us do something special, now that the Warden-Commander is here!" He smirked and looked aound. "Warden-Commander Clarel! Come forward! I have a special demon waiting for you!"
Clarel stepped onto the platform, and an outline of a huge Pride Demon appeared in the Veil tear.
"Bring forward your sacrifice!" The Magister commanded and one of the older warrior stepped onto the platform. "Well, you know what to do," he said encouragingly to Clarel and smiled.
"My friend," she addressed the warrior. "After all these years... I have to ask this last sacrifice of you..."
"If my sword arm can no longer serve you, then I hope my blood will," he looked at her with affection and went down on one knee.
"It will, my friend, it will..." She stood behind him and slit his throat, tears running down her face. She then carefully put the warrior's body onto the altar and prepared to start the ritual.
"Clarel! Stop!" Wolf cried out, pushing forward through the crowd. "The Call that you hear isn't real! Your Magister serves a darkspawn lord!"
"Not real..?" She stopped, looking at Wolf through her tears. "But we all hear it... Which is why we have to make that final push... to end all Blights..."
"You hear the Call not because the taint has finally corrupted your body," Wolf spoke with urgency. "You hear it because it comes from the darkspawn lord! Just like the Call of the Archdemon... The one I slayed some ten years past. Ten years! Think! It is too soon for another Blight!"
"I... what have I done..?" She looked around her, as if only now seeing glazed over expressions on the faces of her mages, now bound to the darkspawn lord. "You!!" She turned to the Magister. "You lied to us!! You said it would stop all Blights!"
"And you clutched that excuse without question!" He sneered. "You were all too greedy for all the power! Just look at the demon waiting to do your bidding! That is the Call that you cannot resist!"
He laughed derisively. Clarel's face contorted with rage and she flung a lightning bolt at him, throwing him on the ground.
"Oh I see," he scrambled to his feet. "My Lord warned me that this could happen. Which is why he taught me another spell..."
He cast a spell, and a shriek and a roar filled the air. A great big undead dragon descended onto the fortress, a dragon very much resembling an Archdemon.
"What?!" Clarel was furious. She shot another bolt at the Magister, nearly killing him where he stood. She was back in control, but it was too late. Great many mages and warriors had been sacrificed already. "No!!" She turned her attention to the dragon. "Not on my watch! Oh what have I done..." She shot a bolt at the dragon and it reeled in pain and took to the air. Clarel went after it, running up the watchtower, expecting the dragon to land there. Demons and mages bound to them attacked the other Wardens turning the roof into a bloody battlefield. Wolf signalled his party to leave the battle and to charge after Clarel. If they could kill the dragon, it was their duty to do so.
Clarel was ahead of them. She kept shooting lightning bolts at the dragon, trying to force it to land. It kept shrieking and circling the tower but didn't fly away and didn't land. Anders, Dorian and Varric added their shots to Clarel's, and Wolf regretted bitterly not bringing his crossbow. Finally the dragon seemed to weaken, another bolt would bring it down... and it did. The dragon crashed into the tower, taking tons of brickwork towards the abyss on the other side. Clarel dived after it, the dragon rose once again, then fell onto the tower, smashing the rest of it and sending the debris and the people into the abyss. The last thing Wolf saw before the abyss closed in, was Clarel plunging her staff into the dragon's skull.
In death, Sacrifice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun's Dusk, 3E398 - Nightmares
Wolf was standing in the Fade. He knew what it looked like because he'd been there before. It looked like a rocky coast of Northern Ferelden, he could hear the sea nearby and could taste the salt in the air. Everything was wet, and he slipped on the rocks a few times. The Black City was visible in the distance, floating on an island in the sky. "What happened?" Wolf tried to remember. The last thing he knew, he was fighting a dragon... was that the Archdemon? Hadn't he slain the Archdemon already? He could not recall. But whatever happened in Mundus, he had to get back there, he had to find a way out. And so he started walking.
The place was deserted, but there were signs of other travellers here and there - a scrap of a letter here, a half-finished bottle of wine there, a bloody teddy bear, a bunch of wilted flowers, a candle that's gone out... "Someone's memories," Wolf thought. He hoped he would find his own memories too, and so he continued walking.
"Conscription ale: vintage Riordan," Wolf picked up a bottle half-filled with some alcoholic drink. "Riordan. I remember you." Grey Wardens didn't have mules following them around, so every item in their packs was carefully selected. It became a tradition to carry a single bottle of alcohol that got topped up with whatever liqueur they came upon their travels. They nicknamed it "Conscription Ale" because nothing burned like the Joining Cup. Riordan was the Warden that joined Wolf in Alistair for the final assault on the Archdemon. He fell in that battle. Wolf pocketed Riordan's bottle and walked on.
"I don't know you, mage!" He heard an angry voice ahead. "Get out of my way!"
"But you are my son..." A woman's voice pleaded. "And a Grey Warden, like I once was... Your father was the King of Ferelden, we were lovers for so long... The throne is yours by right!"
"You are not my mother!" The angry voice objected. "I am no elf-blood! My mother was a maid at the Redcliffe Castle, she had a brief encounter with the King, and I was the result! Yes, I'm a royal bastard! I know I have a claim on the throne, and I don't want it! Begone, spirit!!"
Wolf turned a corner and saw Alistair argueing with an elven mage... she looked familiar somehow...
"Lord Inquisitor!" She turned to Wolf. "You remember me, right? Fiona. I lead the rebel mages... You recently made us your allies."
"Fiona," Wolf nodded. "Yes, I remember you. We spoke once or twice. You sold out the mages to the Tevinter Imperium," he scowled.
"Oh... but we were desperate!" Fiona protested. "I did explain... You still made us your allies."
"I made the mages my allies because they are not to blame for your transgressions," Wolf frowned. "But this is not why you are here, surely?"
"I am Alistair's mother," Fiona said with a sigh. "But he does not believe me. Make him believe me! Make him remember!"
"Remember what, exactly?" Wolf squinted. "Being inside your womb? Don't be ridiculous."
"My mother was a maid at the castle and she died in child birth... My half-sister said I killed her..." Alistair protested, hotly at first, then the memory of his encounter with his half-sister made him sad and uneasy. "She only wanted my money... as if I had any..."
"That's what people were told! That you were the son of a kitchen maid who died in child birth," Fiona nodded. "Only her babe died with her. You were born shortly after, and thus the story was put together. The King's son could not be an elf-blood! Not even a bastard son! I had to give you up and leave, never to return."
"Could this be true?" Alistair looked at Wolf. "That I am an elf-blood? That I have magic in me? That I was born with the Grey Warden taint and therefore survived the Joining? That I was always meant to be a Grey Warden? That... well... but then the Call I hear is real... if the taint had been in my blood since the start... I should have killed the Archdemon, then. My time is nearly up."
"Yes, this is an interesting point," Wolf had to steady Alistair who looked like he was about to collapse. "What do you mean - you were a Grey Warden, Fiona? You can quit the Order but you cannot stop being a Grey Warden. The taint in your blood is forever. And how come you don't hear the Call?"
"Well, that's just it, no one understands it," Fiona nodded. "It just... fizzled out one day. I could no longer sense darkspawn. I still can't, and I don't hear the Call. My blood is no longer tainted. That's why Grey Wardens booted me out of the Order. I regretted it so much at first... Duncan was such a good friend..."
"Duncan?" Alistair looked up. "What about him?"
"Well, we joined the Order at about the same time," Fiona smiled. "And as two young recruits we shared a lot of missions. We became friends. Then later, when you were born, Duncan promised to make you a Grey Warden and look after you... and he kept his promise."
"Well, that just gets worse by the minute..." Alistair shook his head. "It's like a web closing in on me... Everything was pre-destined, I had no say in anything from before I was even born..."
"Don't listen to her," Wolf said decisively. "For one, this is not the real Fiona because Fiona is back in Skyhold and not here in the Fade." He gave her a hard stare and she rolled her eyes. "For two, Fiona is one of the most slippery and conniving individuals I've ever met," he kept his eyes on her. "She started the mage rebellion... oh yes, it was she who started it, and not that single mage who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been her agent all along... implicating Grey Wardens, too. Yet Grey Wardens didn't take the fall for the disaster in Kirkwall, that must have been a real setback. Then she led her rebel mages into the war with templars, and let us not pretend that the mages caused no harm. They did! They used blood magic galore, they burned the land and committed crimes, all in the name of freedom and greater good. I understand where they were coming from, with all the repressions, in particular in Kirkwall, but it does not justify what Fiona thought was acceptable to do in that war. The mages were victims no longer!" Wolf glared at Fiona but she remained impenetrable. "And then, just as we've defeated templar units around the area where the mages were staying, Fiona declared an imminent existential threat from the templars and sold out her mages to Tevinter! While no such threat any longer existed! And yes, that Tevinter Magister did manipulate the fabric of time, but even so, even in his new warped reality, the immediate threat from the templars had already been eliminated! There was no need to sell out the mages at all! Which is what most mages could see and said so! I really don't understand why you still live."
"I still live because none of that matters, Inquisitor," Fiona answered with a smirk. "I still live because there's no one else the mages would rather have as their leader. Because none of them has the guts to step up and challenge me. That's why they were so easy to manipulate, as you too have found out."
"The mages still remember the horrors of blood magic rebellion in the Circle Tower in Ferelden and later in Kirkwall," Alistair nodded. "They are terrified from such events repeating."
"What the mages need to understand, is that they can draw strength from templars," Wolf nodded. "But this notion is too far out for the present. And anyway... Alistair, this spirit does not represent your mother. I do not believe that Fiona could be your mother. I think your mother was that human woman who died in child birth."
"And my life was not pre-destined," Alistair nodded. "I made my own choices. I joined Grey Wardens because I asked to join Grey Wardens. I abdicated my birth right to the throne because I chose to do so. Because I wanted to remain with the Order. Which is my family. Where I have a purpose and a job to do. That's right! Begone, spirit!" Alistair straightened up and looked at Fiona. "I do not believe you."
Fiona vanished.
"Phew..." Alistair sighed. "Thank you, friend. That was a hard one... My worst nightmare... lack of control..."
"Well, it's over," Wolf smiled. "I wonder who else is here. What happened? I remember fighting a dragon... was that the Archdemon?"
"No, that was some other dragon..." Alistair scratched the back of his head. "It sure looked like the Archdemon though... Something isn't right. And there were others with us - Anders, Dorian, Varric, Cassandra... I wonder if they are here as well."
"I wonder if we need to find them in order to get out," Wolf nodded. "And where is the exit..?"
They walked on, looking for anything other than the endless rocks and sea.
...
"Well, I am sorry!" They heard an apologetic voice further ahead. "I didn't know what red lyrium was... what it did..."
"But you were greedy, just like your brother!" An angry voice replied.
"I admit that I was," the first voice sounded dejected. "It's all my fault, after all... You're dead because of me, Hawke..."
Wolf and Alistair turned a corner and saw Varric talking to Hawke.
"I died in that stupid assault on the Grey Wardens fortress!" Hawke replied hotly. "What madness!! What were you thinking?! How could you send me into that battle?!"
"I..." Varric was nearly crying.
"You did no such thing," Wolf interrupted them. "There was no frontal assault, we went through a back door... and Hawke wasn't with us because he refused to come! This spirit is taunting you, Varric."
"There wasn't..?" Varric stood aghast. "But I remember..."
"What do you remember?" Alistair joined in. "Because I remember you following me. I don't remember you commanding any troops or sending anyone into battle, least of all Hawke. Wake up, Varric!"
"Hawke always followed me though, after a fashion," Varric was looking at Hawke with affection. "He's perhaps my closest friend... I shielded him from Cassandra... but then I gave him up. Because I thought that the hole in the sky was more important. Rubbish! What good is this world if I lose my closest friend?"
"But he's not dead, Varric," Wolf said quietly. "He didn't come with us."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you," Varric smirked. "Because he's stubborn, the same as you, Warden... Hawke has his pride... He'd rather join in the shadows and come to light in the end... He'll be there, one way or the other..."
"Well, that may be, but I haven't seen him and there's no reason to believe that he's dead," Wolf said firmly. "We'll have to get out of here and see what's going on."
"Yeah, may be..." Varric looked around. "Yeah, that's it. That's rubbish, and this is not Hawke, I am going back and there I'll find him and help him fight..."
Varric vanished before he could even finish his sentence. Hawke glared at Wolf and Alistair and vanished too.
"Now, which of them was a real person?" Alistair looked around in surprise.
"Who knows?" Wolf shrugged. "May be neither. Come on."
...
"How did you get out of the Fade before?" Alistair stopped after they'd been walking for a long time but only saw rocks and sea around them.
"I simply willed it," Wolf stopped too. "I pictured where I was just before I entered the Fade, and I willed myself to be there again... And I was out. Unless there's a demon guarding the pocket we're in, that's all that it takes."
"Well, I only remember falling into the abyss," Alistair sighed. "I can't remember rightly what was going on... We were fighting a lot of demons... and mages... there was a sacrifice..."
"...a blood magic ritual binding a demon to a mage," Wolf nodded. "Yes, at the Grey Warden fortress. They were all Grey Wardens."
"Which is why we had to stop them," Alistair nodded. "It's coming back to me..."
"I remember that bit too, but what I don't recall is how I got this mark," Wolf raised his hand. "There was a Conclave... we came to observe... then there was a massive explosion and I ran in... then woke up three days later with this thing on my hand. But what happened in that room? What is it?"
"I can't help you there," Alistair shook his head. "We all were behind you. We just saw the explosion. What you need is to find your memories. Perhaps they are here, in the Fade."
"Perhaps this is what's keeping us here," Wolf nodded.
He took a few steps, something caught his eye.
"Come look at this!" He called to Alistair but got no answer. He turned around - Alistair was gone. "He's out," Wolf decided. "He remembered everything he needed to remember. But I have not..."
He looked around at the endless rocks melting into the sea, at the floating island of the Black City in the distance... It changed somehow. Was that... a dragon? A dragon was circling the floating island, as if trying to decide which way to go. Which dragon was that? It looked familiar... If only Wolf could recall...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wolf was standing in the Fade. He knew what it looked like because he'd been there before. It looked like a rocky coast of Northern Ferelden, he could hear the sea nearby and could taste the salt in the air. Everything was wet, and he slipped on the rocks a few times. The Black City was visible in the distance, floating on an island in the sky. "What happened?" Wolf tried to remember. The last thing he knew, he was fighting a dragon... was that the Archdemon? Hadn't he slain the Archdemon already? He could not recall. But whatever happened in Mundus, he had to get back there, he had to find a way out. And so he started walking.
The place was deserted, but there were signs of other travellers here and there - a scrap of a letter here, a half-finished bottle of wine there, a bloody teddy bear, a bunch of wilted flowers, a candle that's gone out... "Someone's memories," Wolf thought. He hoped he would find his own memories too, and so he continued walking.
"Conscription ale: vintage Riordan," Wolf picked up a bottle half-filled with some alcoholic drink. "Riordan. I remember you." Grey Wardens didn't have mules following them around, so every item in their packs was carefully selected. It became a tradition to carry a single bottle of alcohol that got topped up with whatever liqueur they came upon their travels. They nicknamed it "Conscription Ale" because nothing burned like the Joining Cup. Riordan was the Warden that joined Wolf in Alistair for the final assault on the Archdemon. He fell in that battle. Wolf pocketed Riordan's bottle and walked on.
"I don't know you, mage!" He heard an angry voice ahead. "Get out of my way!"
"But you are my son..." A woman's voice pleaded. "And a Grey Warden, like I once was... Your father was the King of Ferelden, we were lovers for so long... The throne is yours by right!"
"You are not my mother!" The angry voice objected. "I am no elf-blood! My mother was a maid at the Redcliffe Castle, she had a brief encounter with the King, and I was the result! Yes, I'm a royal bastard! I know I have a claim on the throne, and I don't want it! Begone, spirit!!"
Wolf turned a corner and saw Alistair argueing with an elven mage... she looked familiar somehow...
"Lord Inquisitor!" She turned to Wolf. "You remember me, right? Fiona. I lead the rebel mages... You recently made us your allies."
"Fiona," Wolf nodded. "Yes, I remember you. We spoke once or twice. You sold out the mages to the Tevinter Imperium," he scowled.
"Oh... but we were desperate!" Fiona protested. "I did explain... You still made us your allies."
"I made the mages my allies because they are not to blame for your transgressions," Wolf frowned. "But this is not why you are here, surely?"
"I am Alistair's mother," Fiona said with a sigh. "But he does not believe me. Make him believe me! Make him remember!"
"Remember what, exactly?" Wolf squinted. "Being inside your womb? Don't be ridiculous."
"My mother was a maid at the castle and she died in child birth... My half-sister said I killed her..." Alistair protested, hotly at first, then the memory of his encounter with his half-sister made him sad and uneasy. "She only wanted my money... as if I had any..."
"That's what people were told! That you were the son of a kitchen maid who died in child birth," Fiona nodded. "Only her babe died with her. You were born shortly after, and thus the story was put together. The King's son could not be an elf-blood! Not even a bastard son! I had to give you up and leave, never to return."
"Could this be true?" Alistair looked at Wolf. "That I am an elf-blood? That I have magic in me? That I was born with the Grey Warden taint and therefore survived the Joining? That I was always meant to be a Grey Warden? That... well... but then the Call I hear is real... if the taint had been in my blood since the start... I should have killed the Archdemon, then. My time is nearly up."
"Yes, this is an interesting point," Wolf had to steady Alistair who looked like he was about to collapse. "What do you mean - you were a Grey Warden, Fiona? You can quit the Order but you cannot stop being a Grey Warden. The taint in your blood is forever. And how come you don't hear the Call?"
"Well, that's just it, no one understands it," Fiona nodded. "It just... fizzled out one day. I could no longer sense darkspawn. I still can't, and I don't hear the Call. My blood is no longer tainted. That's why Grey Wardens booted me out of the Order. I regretted it so much at first... Duncan was such a good friend..."
"Duncan?" Alistair looked up. "What about him?"
"Well, we joined the Order at about the same time," Fiona smiled. "And as two young recruits we shared a lot of missions. We became friends. Then later, when you were born, Duncan promised to make you a Grey Warden and look after you... and he kept his promise."
"Well, that just gets worse by the minute..." Alistair shook his head. "It's like a web closing in on me... Everything was pre-destined, I had no say in anything from before I was even born..."
"Don't listen to her," Wolf said decisively. "For one, this is not the real Fiona because Fiona is back in Skyhold and not here in the Fade." He gave her a hard stare and she rolled her eyes. "For two, Fiona is one of the most slippery and conniving individuals I've ever met," he kept his eyes on her. "She started the mage rebellion... oh yes, it was she who started it, and not that single mage who blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall. I wouldn't be surprised if he had been her agent all along... implicating Grey Wardens, too. Yet Grey Wardens didn't take the fall for the disaster in Kirkwall, that must have been a real setback. Then she led her rebel mages into the war with templars, and let us not pretend that the mages caused no harm. They did! They used blood magic galore, they burned the land and committed crimes, all in the name of freedom and greater good. I understand where they were coming from, with all the repressions, in particular in Kirkwall, but it does not justify what Fiona thought was acceptable to do in that war. The mages were victims no longer!" Wolf glared at Fiona but she remained impenetrable. "And then, just as we've defeated templar units around the area where the mages were staying, Fiona declared an imminent existential threat from the templars and sold out her mages to Tevinter! While no such threat any longer existed! And yes, that Tevinter Magister did manipulate the fabric of time, but even so, even in his new warped reality, the immediate threat from the templars had already been eliminated! There was no need to sell out the mages at all! Which is what most mages could see and said so! I really don't understand why you still live."
"I still live because none of that matters, Inquisitor," Fiona answered with a smirk. "I still live because there's no one else the mages would rather have as their leader. Because none of them has the guts to step up and challenge me. That's why they were so easy to manipulate, as you too have found out."
"The mages still remember the horrors of blood magic rebellion in the Circle Tower in Ferelden and later in Kirkwall," Alistair nodded. "They are terrified from such events repeating."
"What the mages need to understand, is that they can draw strength from templars," Wolf nodded. "But this notion is too far out for the present. And anyway... Alistair, this spirit does not represent your mother. I do not believe that Fiona could be your mother. I think your mother was that human woman who died in child birth."
"And my life was not pre-destined," Alistair nodded. "I made my own choices. I joined Grey Wardens because I asked to join Grey Wardens. I abdicated my birth right to the throne because I chose to do so. Because I wanted to remain with the Order. Which is my family. Where I have a purpose and a job to do. That's right! Begone, spirit!" Alistair straightened up and looked at Fiona. "I do not believe you."
Fiona vanished.
"Phew..." Alistair sighed. "Thank you, friend. That was a hard one... My worst nightmare... lack of control..."
"Well, it's over," Wolf smiled. "I wonder who else is here. What happened? I remember fighting a dragon... was that the Archdemon?"
"No, that was some other dragon..." Alistair scratched the back of his head. "It sure looked like the Archdemon though... Something isn't right. And there were others with us - Anders, Dorian, Varric, Cassandra... I wonder if they are here as well."
"I wonder if we need to find them in order to get out," Wolf nodded. "And where is the exit..?"
They walked on, looking for anything other than the endless rocks and sea.
...
"Well, I am sorry!" They heard an apologetic voice further ahead. "I didn't know what red lyrium was... what it did..."
"But you were greedy, just like your brother!" An angry voice replied.
"I admit that I was," the first voice sounded dejected. "It's all my fault, after all... You're dead because of me, Hawke..."
Wolf and Alistair turned a corner and saw Varric talking to Hawke.
"I died in that stupid assault on the Grey Wardens fortress!" Hawke replied hotly. "What madness!! What were you thinking?! How could you send me into that battle?!"
"I..." Varric was nearly crying.
"You did no such thing," Wolf interrupted them. "There was no frontal assault, we went through a back door... and Hawke wasn't with us because he refused to come! This spirit is taunting you, Varric."
"There wasn't..?" Varric stood aghast. "But I remember..."
"What do you remember?" Alistair joined in. "Because I remember you following me. I don't remember you commanding any troops or sending anyone into battle, least of all Hawke. Wake up, Varric!"
"Hawke always followed me though, after a fashion," Varric was looking at Hawke with affection. "He's perhaps my closest friend... I shielded him from Cassandra... but then I gave him up. Because I thought that the hole in the sky was more important. Rubbish! What good is this world if I lose my closest friend?"
"But he's not dead, Varric," Wolf said quietly. "He didn't come with us."
"You'd think that, wouldn't you," Varric smirked. "Because he's stubborn, the same as you, Warden... Hawke has his pride... He'd rather join in the shadows and come to light in the end... He'll be there, one way or the other..."
"Well, that may be, but I haven't seen him and there's no reason to believe that he's dead," Wolf said firmly. "We'll have to get out of here and see what's going on."
"Yeah, may be..." Varric looked around. "Yeah, that's it. That's rubbish, and this is not Hawke, I am going back and there I'll find him and help him fight..."
Varric vanished before he could even finish his sentence. Hawke glared at Wolf and Alistair and vanished too.
"Now, which of them was a real person?" Alistair looked around in surprise.
"Who knows?" Wolf shrugged. "May be neither. Come on."
...
"How did you get out of the Fade before?" Alistair stopped after they'd been walking for a long time but only saw rocks and sea around them.
"I simply willed it," Wolf stopped too. "I pictured where I was just before I entered the Fade, and I willed myself to be there again... And I was out. Unless there's a demon guarding the pocket we're in, that's all that it takes."
"Well, I only remember falling into the abyss," Alistair sighed. "I can't remember rightly what was going on... We were fighting a lot of demons... and mages... there was a sacrifice..."
"...a blood magic ritual binding a demon to a mage," Wolf nodded. "Yes, at the Grey Warden fortress. They were all Grey Wardens."
"Which is why we had to stop them," Alistair nodded. "It's coming back to me..."
"I remember that bit too, but what I don't recall is how I got this mark," Wolf raised his hand. "There was a Conclave... we came to observe... then there was a massive explosion and I ran in... then woke up three days later with this thing on my hand. But what happened in that room? What is it?"
"I can't help you there," Alistair shook his head. "We all were behind you. We just saw the explosion. What you need is to find your memories. Perhaps they are here, in the Fade."
"Perhaps this is what's keeping us here," Wolf nodded.
He took a few steps, something caught his eye.
"Come look at this!" He called to Alistair but got no answer. He turned around - Alistair was gone. "He's out," Wolf decided. "He remembered everything he needed to remember. But I have not..."
He looked around at the endless rocks melting into the sea, at the floating island of the Black City in the distance... It changed somehow. Was that... a dragon? A dragon was circling the floating island, as if trying to decide which way to go. Which dragon was that? It looked familiar... If only Wolf could recall...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun's Dusk, 3E398 - Voices from the past
"Hello, my friend, it's been too long," a voice from the past called and Wolf spun around. Morrigan. "You haven't tried to find me, as I requested. Is that because you respected my wishes or because you no longer care?" She looked at him with a sad smile.
"It's because that's what you wanted," Wolf answered with caution. "You are not Morrigan, I know, but what is it you want, spirit?"
"Not Morrigan? Are you sure? Morrigan can walk in the Fade," the spirit objected. "But it does not matter, the result will be the same. Look: here is your son." She flicked her wrist and an image of a young boy appeared in a mirror - an elven eluvyan, which, too, appeared next to Morrigan. "He will be ten years old soon."
"I cannot remember my son because I've never seen him," Wolf looked at the spirit. "Now I am certain you are not Morrigan."
"You don't want to kiss me then?" She pouted her lips. "For the old times' sake?"
"No."
"What if I was the real Morrigan?" She smiled slyly. "Would you want to kiss her?"
Wolf did not have time to reply. They heard noises of a battle and Cassandra charged in, fencing with several ghosts.
"Stay back! Get behind me! These demons are aggressive!!!" She shot a glance at Wolf and scowled, seeing Morrigan by his side.
"These demons are no match for you, Seeker!" Wolf shouted and joined her in the fight. Within minutes, the battle was over.
"Always such a gentleman," Morrigan smiled.
"He is... He killed the Divine!!" Cassandra scowled at Wolf. "He is my prisoner! I am taking him to be executed!!"
"No, you were taking me to close a rift in the Veil, remember?" Wolf shook his head. "I was unarmed and you tried to protect me from the demons along the way."
"Close a rift in the Veil?" Cassandra stepped back. "Ah... yes... It's coming back to me now... You've got a holy mark on your hand... To close the rifts... We set up the Inquisition... You are the Inquisitor... and... oh... but who is she?!" It was only then that Cassandra took a good look at Morrigan. "An apostate?! A hedge witch?!!"
"I do look the part, don't I?" Morrigan smirked. "It is only I, the Witch of the Wilds, here talking to the father of my child..."
"What..?" Cassandra's voice fell. "So why then..?" She stepped back, shaking her head. "No... I imagined it all, if course. It never happened. No one would ever... what was I thinking..?"
"I don't think that even real Morrigan would be so cruel," Wolf glared at Morrigan. "Get lost!!"
Morrigan only smiled and Wolf snorted and turned his back to her.
"You didn't imagine it, Cassandra," he took a step towards her. "I was flirting with you. And I have no intention of stopping."
"But why?" Cassandra looked at him sideways. "I am a warrior. I have no graces and no charm. I cannot compare to her," she shot a glance at Morrigan.
"You have charm and graces more than you know," Wolf didn't give up. "Your passion, your fire, you cannot hide that."
"No," she shook her head. "You cannot court me."
"Why not? I'd like to try."
"You... you have a son!"
"Whom I've never seen, in accordance with his mother's wishes," Wolf took another step towards Cassandra.
"But what if you see him? What if..?"
"What if I meet the real Morrigan, you mean?" Wolf turned to look at Morrigan who stood there smiling. "It's been ten years." He turned back to Cassandra. "She never wanted to see me again, she chose a different path. I have to assume she will want to continue on it. And I have my own path to follow."
"That does not involve me," Cassandra nodded.
"I don't know," Wolf smiled. "That would depend on you."
"Ah..!"
"We need to leave this place," Wolf came close, speaking into her ear. "It isn't exactly romantic... all this wet rock..."
Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben?
Was bedränget dich so sehr?
Welch ein fremdes, neues Leben!
Ich erkenne dich nicht mehr.
"No!" Cassandra paled, surprised, pulling back.
Weg ist alles was du liebtest,
Weg, warum du dich betrübtest,
Weg dein FleiŸ und deine Ruh -
Ach, wie kamst du nur dazu!
Wolf took another step towards her.
Und an diesem Zauberfädchen,
Das sich nicht zerreiŸen lässt...
Cassandra twisted away and jumped back.
Die Veränderung, ach, wie groŸ!
Liebe! Liebe! LaŸ mich los!
She laughed, finishing the poem for him.
"Let's get out of here," she smiled. "All this wet rock..."
She vanished before she could finish her sentence.
"Well, well, I see you are up to your old tricks - courting the one woman of substance in the party," Morrigan smirked. "I do wonder... What will you do when the real Morrigan joins you at Skyhold? What will you say to your son when you see him? How will you explain this new woman in your life? I shall be watching you, Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan. I shall be watching..."
She turned away, took a few steps and vanished. Wolf was no longer certain it wasn't the real Morrigan after all.
...
Wolf had been walking for hours, it seemed. He was alone among the rocks and the sea. Nothing interrupted the monotony. He pulled out Riordan's bottle and took a sip. The liqueur was strong but nothing burned quite like the Joining Cup. "I should start a bottle of my own," he thought. The mark on his hand burned with searing pain. "I have to remember how I got this..." He got up and started walking again.
After a while he saw a woman on a burning crucifix. She looked familiar, and he approached.
"Run, run while you can!" She cried.
He stood in the chamber of the Conclave. The woman was being held in place with some unknown magic, it weren't the flames that he saw, it was the magical force holding her in place. She was the Divine. The darkspawn lord held an orb in his hand, he intended to do something with it... but Wolf's appearance interrupted it, he looked away momentarily, and the Divine kicked at his hand with all her force. The orb flew through the air... and Wolf caught it. It burned worse than the Joining Cup. He dropped it, it was impossible to hold. Then... he stood in the Fade. He remembered running towards a glowing portal... he was being chased... by some creatures... spiders, scorpions, whatever they were... He made it to the portal and leapt through it. He woke up in Haven three days later.
"So, the orb," he thought. "That was the Elven artefact that Solas was talking about. That was what caused the explosion and created the breach. Solas knows what it is but is not telling. I wonder why. Surely, he cannot be blamed for the magic created by ancient elves..."
Wolf never trusted Solas. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't because Solas kept to himself and was aloof and distant. A lot of people were like that. Solas was likely very old by human standards, he knew a great deal about the Fade and ancient elven magics, he wasn't just another mage. Why did he join the Inquisition? He wanted to defeat the darkspawn lord, he claimed... That part was probably true. But his interest in the orb went beyond academic. Wolf didn't trust him and never took him along if he could help it.
That orb was the key. One way or the other, they'd have to find that darkspawn lord and pry the orb from him, and then Wolf would simply fling it into the heavens and close the breach.
He got up and straightened his back. He knew what to do.
...
"Finally!" Zevran bent over Wolf's cot in the infirmary wing at Skyhold. "You gave us a fright! Three days! It's been three days!"
"Three days since what?" Wolf sat up, awake.
"Since they brought you here from the desert," Zevran smiled. "That is, it's been three days and a week! What happened?"
"The Fade," Wolf shrugged. "The others?"
"You all returned, except Clarel," Zevran pointed at the other cots. "All unconscious. All had to be carried here on carts. It takes a week to travel at that speed from the desert! But the others woke up before you. You've been thrashing."
"Spiders," Wolf grimaced. "And... things." He looked around. "Grey Wardens?"
"Many were lost, of course," Zevran said with a sigh. "But many more survived. They still hear the Call, but not as bad and not as persistent, and now that they know it's not real, they can resist. The Order will have to be rebuilt, but for now they joined the Inquisition."
"Was that Alistair's doing?" Wolf grinned.
"No, actually," Zevran sounded surprised. "It was... a general sentiment. You can ask them yourself when the nurse allows you to get up."
...
It was a few days before the nurse was satisfied with Wolf's condition and released him from the infirmary wing. He went to the barracks, as Zevran had suggested. Grey Wardens were huddled together, tending to their arms and armour, training and practicing spells. Wolf noticed they were mostly warriors, very few mages survived.
"No, blood magic is not inherently evil!" He heard a familiar voice coming from a group of mages. "I know you just had a shock! But that isn't all that blood magic is good for! I'd never suggest doing anything of the sort! But there are other uses!!"
The mages were having none of it, with many discontent voices covering Anders.
"He's right, you know," Wolf approached them and everyone turned around. "Blood magic can be used. But you must know what you are doing."
"Warden-Commander!" They stopped arguing and saluted. "If you say so... but we are not convinced."
"Leave them be, Anders," Wolf patted his arm. "They've been through a lot lately. We'll keep blood magic between us for now. I think they've seen the very worst one could think of..." Then he turned to the mages. "I am very sorry that we couldn't save the others... but..."
"...they were too far gone," someone said softly. "We know. No one here wants to use blood magic for that reason."
"Grey Wardens do not prohibit blood magic, but neither do they insist on its use," Wolf declared, shooting Anders a glance and changing the topic. "I hear you all joined the Inquisition. I welcome your help, of course. But shouldn't Grey Wardens look after the Order first?"
"We will when you return to Vigil Keep," someone said from the back of the crowd.
"There are too few of us and we need a leader," someone else seconded.
"And he is here, that is you, Warden-Commander," another person added.
"The Wardens will remain for as long as we are useful in your fight against the darkspawn lord," a mage at the front summarised. "Because Grey Wardens always rise against darkspawn."
"Then it is time to make it clear that Lord Inquisitor is a Grey Warden," Wolf nodded and smiled, as the griffon crest on his armour caught the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Neue Liebe, neues Leben", a sonnet first published in 1775.
I looked at English translations but found them lacking. Wolf preferred the original, and Cassandra agreed.
"Hello, my friend, it's been too long," a voice from the past called and Wolf spun around. Morrigan. "You haven't tried to find me, as I requested. Is that because you respected my wishes or because you no longer care?" She looked at him with a sad smile.
"It's because that's what you wanted," Wolf answered with caution. "You are not Morrigan, I know, but what is it you want, spirit?"
"Not Morrigan? Are you sure? Morrigan can walk in the Fade," the spirit objected. "But it does not matter, the result will be the same. Look: here is your son." She flicked her wrist and an image of a young boy appeared in a mirror - an elven eluvyan, which, too, appeared next to Morrigan. "He will be ten years old soon."
"I cannot remember my son because I've never seen him," Wolf looked at the spirit. "Now I am certain you are not Morrigan."
"You don't want to kiss me then?" She pouted her lips. "For the old times' sake?"
"No."
"What if I was the real Morrigan?" She smiled slyly. "Would you want to kiss her?"
Wolf did not have time to reply. They heard noises of a battle and Cassandra charged in, fencing with several ghosts.
"Stay back! Get behind me! These demons are aggressive!!!" She shot a glance at Wolf and scowled, seeing Morrigan by his side.
"These demons are no match for you, Seeker!" Wolf shouted and joined her in the fight. Within minutes, the battle was over.
"Always such a gentleman," Morrigan smiled.
"He is... He killed the Divine!!" Cassandra scowled at Wolf. "He is my prisoner! I am taking him to be executed!!"
"No, you were taking me to close a rift in the Veil, remember?" Wolf shook his head. "I was unarmed and you tried to protect me from the demons along the way."
"Close a rift in the Veil?" Cassandra stepped back. "Ah... yes... It's coming back to me now... You've got a holy mark on your hand... To close the rifts... We set up the Inquisition... You are the Inquisitor... and... oh... but who is she?!" It was only then that Cassandra took a good look at Morrigan. "An apostate?! A hedge witch?!!"
"I do look the part, don't I?" Morrigan smirked. "It is only I, the Witch of the Wilds, here talking to the father of my child..."
"What..?" Cassandra's voice fell. "So why then..?" She stepped back, shaking her head. "No... I imagined it all, if course. It never happened. No one would ever... what was I thinking..?"
"I don't think that even real Morrigan would be so cruel," Wolf glared at Morrigan. "Get lost!!"
Morrigan only smiled and Wolf snorted and turned his back to her.
"You didn't imagine it, Cassandra," he took a step towards her. "I was flirting with you. And I have no intention of stopping."
"But why?" Cassandra looked at him sideways. "I am a warrior. I have no graces and no charm. I cannot compare to her," she shot a glance at Morrigan.
"You have charm and graces more than you know," Wolf didn't give up. "Your passion, your fire, you cannot hide that."
"No," she shook her head. "You cannot court me."
"Why not? I'd like to try."
"You... you have a son!"
"Whom I've never seen, in accordance with his mother's wishes," Wolf took another step towards Cassandra.
"But what if you see him? What if..?"
"What if I meet the real Morrigan, you mean?" Wolf turned to look at Morrigan who stood there smiling. "It's been ten years." He turned back to Cassandra. "She never wanted to see me again, she chose a different path. I have to assume she will want to continue on it. And I have my own path to follow."
"That does not involve me," Cassandra nodded.
"I don't know," Wolf smiled. "That would depend on you."
"Ah..!"
"We need to leave this place," Wolf came close, speaking into her ear. "It isn't exactly romantic... all this wet rock..."
Herz, mein Herz, was soll das geben?
Was bedränget dich so sehr?
Welch ein fremdes, neues Leben!
Ich erkenne dich nicht mehr.
"No!" Cassandra paled, surprised, pulling back.
Weg ist alles was du liebtest,
Weg, warum du dich betrübtest,
Weg dein FleiŸ und deine Ruh -
Ach, wie kamst du nur dazu!
Wolf took another step towards her.
Und an diesem Zauberfädchen,
Das sich nicht zerreiŸen lässt...
Cassandra twisted away and jumped back.
Die Veränderung, ach, wie groŸ!
Liebe! Liebe! LaŸ mich los!
She laughed, finishing the poem for him.
"Let's get out of here," she smiled. "All this wet rock..."
She vanished before she could finish her sentence.
"Well, well, I see you are up to your old tricks - courting the one woman of substance in the party," Morrigan smirked. "I do wonder... What will you do when the real Morrigan joins you at Skyhold? What will you say to your son when you see him? How will you explain this new woman in your life? I shall be watching you, Lord Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan. I shall be watching..."
She turned away, took a few steps and vanished. Wolf was no longer certain it wasn't the real Morrigan after all.
...
Wolf had been walking for hours, it seemed. He was alone among the rocks and the sea. Nothing interrupted the monotony. He pulled out Riordan's bottle and took a sip. The liqueur was strong but nothing burned quite like the Joining Cup. "I should start a bottle of my own," he thought. The mark on his hand burned with searing pain. "I have to remember how I got this..." He got up and started walking again.
After a while he saw a woman on a burning crucifix. She looked familiar, and he approached.
"Run, run while you can!" She cried.
He stood in the chamber of the Conclave. The woman was being held in place with some unknown magic, it weren't the flames that he saw, it was the magical force holding her in place. She was the Divine. The darkspawn lord held an orb in his hand, he intended to do something with it... but Wolf's appearance interrupted it, he looked away momentarily, and the Divine kicked at his hand with all her force. The orb flew through the air... and Wolf caught it. It burned worse than the Joining Cup. He dropped it, it was impossible to hold. Then... he stood in the Fade. He remembered running towards a glowing portal... he was being chased... by some creatures... spiders, scorpions, whatever they were... He made it to the portal and leapt through it. He woke up in Haven three days later.
"So, the orb," he thought. "That was the Elven artefact that Solas was talking about. That was what caused the explosion and created the breach. Solas knows what it is but is not telling. I wonder why. Surely, he cannot be blamed for the magic created by ancient elves..."
Wolf never trusted Solas. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. It wasn't because Solas kept to himself and was aloof and distant. A lot of people were like that. Solas was likely very old by human standards, he knew a great deal about the Fade and ancient elven magics, he wasn't just another mage. Why did he join the Inquisition? He wanted to defeat the darkspawn lord, he claimed... That part was probably true. But his interest in the orb went beyond academic. Wolf didn't trust him and never took him along if he could help it.
That orb was the key. One way or the other, they'd have to find that darkspawn lord and pry the orb from him, and then Wolf would simply fling it into the heavens and close the breach.
He got up and straightened his back. He knew what to do.
...
"Finally!" Zevran bent over Wolf's cot in the infirmary wing at Skyhold. "You gave us a fright! Three days! It's been three days!"
"Three days since what?" Wolf sat up, awake.
"Since they brought you here from the desert," Zevran smiled. "That is, it's been three days and a week! What happened?"
"The Fade," Wolf shrugged. "The others?"
"You all returned, except Clarel," Zevran pointed at the other cots. "All unconscious. All had to be carried here on carts. It takes a week to travel at that speed from the desert! But the others woke up before you. You've been thrashing."
"Spiders," Wolf grimaced. "And... things." He looked around. "Grey Wardens?"
"Many were lost, of course," Zevran said with a sigh. "But many more survived. They still hear the Call, but not as bad and not as persistent, and now that they know it's not real, they can resist. The Order will have to be rebuilt, but for now they joined the Inquisition."
"Was that Alistair's doing?" Wolf grinned.
"No, actually," Zevran sounded surprised. "It was... a general sentiment. You can ask them yourself when the nurse allows you to get up."
...
It was a few days before the nurse was satisfied with Wolf's condition and released him from the infirmary wing. He went to the barracks, as Zevran had suggested. Grey Wardens were huddled together, tending to their arms and armour, training and practicing spells. Wolf noticed they were mostly warriors, very few mages survived.
"No, blood magic is not inherently evil!" He heard a familiar voice coming from a group of mages. "I know you just had a shock! But that isn't all that blood magic is good for! I'd never suggest doing anything of the sort! But there are other uses!!"
The mages were having none of it, with many discontent voices covering Anders.
"He's right, you know," Wolf approached them and everyone turned around. "Blood magic can be used. But you must know what you are doing."
"Warden-Commander!" They stopped arguing and saluted. "If you say so... but we are not convinced."
"Leave them be, Anders," Wolf patted his arm. "They've been through a lot lately. We'll keep blood magic between us for now. I think they've seen the very worst one could think of..." Then he turned to the mages. "I am very sorry that we couldn't save the others... but..."
"...they were too far gone," someone said softly. "We know. No one here wants to use blood magic for that reason."
"Grey Wardens do not prohibit blood magic, but neither do they insist on its use," Wolf declared, shooting Anders a glance and changing the topic. "I hear you all joined the Inquisition. I welcome your help, of course. But shouldn't Grey Wardens look after the Order first?"
"We will when you return to Vigil Keep," someone said from the back of the crowd.
"There are too few of us and we need a leader," someone else seconded.
"And he is here, that is you, Warden-Commander," another person added.
"The Wardens will remain for as long as we are useful in your fight against the darkspawn lord," a mage at the front summarised. "Because Grey Wardens always rise against darkspawn."
"Then it is time to make it clear that Lord Inquisitor is a Grey Warden," Wolf nodded and smiled, as the griffon crest on his armour caught the light.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, "Neue Liebe, neues Leben", a sonnet first published in 1775.
I looked at English translations but found them lacking. Wolf preferred the original, and Cassandra agreed.
Evening Star, 3E398 - Romance
"What's on your mind, my friend?" Zevran produced a bottle of Antivan brandy. "You've been brooding lately."
"Yes, I have..." Wolf accepted a goblet and took a sip. Antivan brandy always helped the flow of conversation. "It's about us..."
They were sitting on the roof of a watchtower, away from prying eyes and ears. What Wolf had to say, was no one's business. Everyone already got used to Zevran spending many a night in Wolf's quarters, and although at first people assumed that it showed Wolf's preference for men, after a time different rumours won over - those about a secret connection between Wolf and Zevran that had nothing to do with sex. It must have been demonic possession, blood magic binding, an ancient elven curse or something equally absurd; or it was just that Zevran was Wolf's slave, and thus... what exactly? People always preferred spectacular stories to mundane ones, regardless of their merit, and Wolf didn't care enough about the rumours to try to correct them. A few people realised that Wolf and Zevran were simply old friends who both felt out of place with the Inquisition and sought each other's company instead.
"Cassandra?" Zevran smiled. "I noticed the way you look at her. I shall stay out of your quarters."
"Cassandra, yes, but there's more..." Wolf took another sip of his brandy. "We've been traveling together for ten years now, give or take," Wolf coughed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "And you never... well... you stopped romancing men after we got together... after the Archdemon was slain... And I wasn't romancing anyone serious since Morrigan left... So even though you and I never... oh this is really awkward..." He paused again and took another sip, but Zevran remained silent, waiting for Wolf to finish what he had to say. "I feel like I never reciprocated your affection in a way that shows what you mean to me, in a way you would have wanted... you aren't just another friend... I feel like if I get involved with Cassandra, it would come between us. I like her a lot, but this isn't worth hurting your feelings. And so I am at a loss..."
"You are afraid that your relationship with Cassandra may become serious," Zevran summarised. "And that you would be 'unfaithful' to me in that case. Worry not, my friend, for I know you need a woman, and I am a man. I shall not abandon you."
"I wish I could..." Wolf shook his head.
"No need," Zevran smiled. "You telling me this now is enough. But I wonder... What will you do when your Imperial Legion calls you back? Because one day they will."
"Yes, this thought crossed my mind many times," Wolf nodded. "It could be years still, but one day they'll call me back, that is the point. Yet my stay here in Thedas is too long not to make bonds... I suppose when they do call me back, I'll have to either break my bonds or perhaps ask the other person to come with me... Would you be willing to leave Antiva behind and come with me to Tamriel?" He looked up; he surprised himself with this question, he never meant to ask it, not yet... but he thought of it often. Zevran would be better off in Tamriel, there was no stigma against elves there, he would no longer be a slave... but he would have to leave his beloved Antiva behind, and Wolf felt it might be too big a sacrifice.
"I... that is a hard question," Zevran agreed. "When the Archdemon was slain, you offered me to stay with the Wardens, even if I didn't want to become a Grey Warden myself. That was easy, and I accepted it gladly. Antiva was still only a few days travel away... But Tamriel is too far for a casual visit. If I leave, it will be for a very long time... a lifetime, perhaps. But not to leave would mean for me to remain here alone... I don't know if Antiva would still shine without you being there as well."
Zevran fell silent. They sat on the tower roof sipping their brandy, watching the sun set into the mountain tops and the stars dot the sky.
"Do the stars look the same in Tamriel?" Zevran asked softly.
"They do," Wolf nodded. "And we have two moons as well..."
"Two moons..." Zevran smiled. "Have you noticed ours? No moons at all for the most part, but sometimes one large moon rises..."
"Masser," Wolf pointed at a crescent just visible over the mountains. "You see it better in the Hissing Wastes..."
"Ah, the desert in the West," Zevran was looking at the stars. "Indeed. But sometimes it also rises above Antiva..."
"I am not leaving yet, my friend," Wolf said softly. "It may be still years. You don't need to decide today."
"I think I know already though," Zevran turned to look at him. "I'll collect what memories I can of Antiva... and then I'll come with you. The moon will be there to remind me of home until perhaps I find a new home in Tamriel."
"I am glad," Wolf raised a toast. "When this Inquisition is over and the darkspawn threat is defeated once again, we should leave for Antiva. The Crows send their regards."
"You want to take over the Crows?" Zevran laughed. "That would be something..."
"No, I want to play," Wolf winked. "I am not a Crows assassin, but you still are. Can I not be your sidekick for a change? I'm sure the Legion will wait."
"And what about Grey Wardens?" Zevran looked up.
"They need a vacation," Wolf grinned. "Grey Wardens deserve some boredom without any duties for a time. There aren't many of us left in Ferelden... and perhaps this time if the Crows get a contract on one or the other Grey Warden, they will actually succeed..."
"Oh you want to... The Crows will be honoured, I'm sure," Zevran laughed and raised a toast. "The Crows send their regards!"
...
"Cassandra, I'd like to speak with you, please," Wolf approached Cassandra interrupting her training. "That dummy needs replacing," he noted with a smile. "And while they are doing that... There's a grove just outside of the main gate, down the path - do you know it?" Cassandra nodded. "Well... meet me there in a bit."
"What is it about?" Cassandra squinted.
"You'll see," Wolf smiled, noting her paleness. "You won't need your sword, I hope."
He turned around and walked away, leaving Cassandra quite nervous. She did have an idea what it was about... and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She loitered and played for time, she first went to see the quartermaster about the dummy... but when she could no longer pretend to have duties, she went to the grove.
She noticed Zevran loitering near the start of the path, pretending not to watch it. "So he wants to prevent us being disturbed," she thought. As she walked and the castle behind her became hidden from view, she saw candles and lanterns adorning the grove, flowers never before seen growing there, she saw a picnic set out in the middle with cheese and wine and grapes... but other than that, the grove seemed deserted.
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance;
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove!
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Cassandra spun around, but there were too many trees and leafy bushes to see anything or anyone.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!
"And this is the poem you chose?" She spoke in the direction of Wolf's voice. "A poem that was once forbidden?"
If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be desposed from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,
and try the effect of the first kiss of love.
Cassandra laughed softly and replied with a verse of her own:
In play, there are two pleasures for your choosing-
The one is winning, and the other losing.
Wolf stepped out into the grove.
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove,
Some portion of paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.
Cassandra leaned onto a tree, relaxing and letting go. Letting go of what? She wasn't certain, but it felt as if chains were falling away from her heart.
She spoke in a softer, gentler tone, her Navarran accent strongly resembling that of the depths of Skyrim.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past-
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove-
Wolf stood just behind her, not rushing into contact. He felt he should let her take the lead. Just another line...
The dearest rememberance will still be the last-
She spun around, facing him.
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
...
"Why did you do all this?" Cassandra sat up on the picnic blanket. The evening was unexpectedly warm, or perhaps they didn't feel the chill for other reasons. "This romantic place..." she looked around. "The lights, the flowers..."
"The wine and the cheese as well," Wolf laughed, handing her a goblet. "I know you only mentioned the candles and flowers, and the shops around here are short on poetry books... so I had to make do with what I knew by heart. And you knew it too, I notice." He pulled her close and kissed her again. "I always felt you were a romantic."
"I was... once," she nodded and smiled. "But after my brother's death... I was too angry for too long. Then I met a man who changed all that... he was a mage... we were together for a year or two, in the middle of the rebellion, of the civil war... imagine - a mage and a Seeker! We couldn't meet much... And then he died in the explosion at the Conclave." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And you survived... the only one to survive that explosion, and it wasn't he!" She looked at Wolf and shook her head.
"So you put me in chains," Wolf nodded. "Your interrogation... well, it wasn't technically a torture... but only technically..." He smirked. "I understand now, Cassandra."
"But duty took over," she nodded. "You had the mark, and it worked in closing rifts, so like it or not, we had to keep you, and keep you alive... Oh how I would have liked to swap your life for his!" She gave a short laugh. "And then... with everything you did... even if I disagreed... And now this picnic, the poetry... Am I just a challenge to you? Have I just lost?"
"I love you, Cassandra," Wolf said without hesitation, surprising himself perhaps more than her.
"Do you?" She looked at him searching. "You better, Warden-Commander..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry: Lord Byron, "The First Kiss of Love", December 1806; also two lines from "Don Juan", 1819.
"What's on your mind, my friend?" Zevran produced a bottle of Antivan brandy. "You've been brooding lately."
"Yes, I have..." Wolf accepted a goblet and took a sip. Antivan brandy always helped the flow of conversation. "It's about us..."
They were sitting on the roof of a watchtower, away from prying eyes and ears. What Wolf had to say, was no one's business. Everyone already got used to Zevran spending many a night in Wolf's quarters, and although at first people assumed that it showed Wolf's preference for men, after a time different rumours won over - those about a secret connection between Wolf and Zevran that had nothing to do with sex. It must have been demonic possession, blood magic binding, an ancient elven curse or something equally absurd; or it was just that Zevran was Wolf's slave, and thus... what exactly? People always preferred spectacular stories to mundane ones, regardless of their merit, and Wolf didn't care enough about the rumours to try to correct them. A few people realised that Wolf and Zevran were simply old friends who both felt out of place with the Inquisition and sought each other's company instead.
"Cassandra?" Zevran smiled. "I noticed the way you look at her. I shall stay out of your quarters."
"Cassandra, yes, but there's more..." Wolf took another sip of his brandy. "We've been traveling together for ten years now, give or take," Wolf coughed uncomfortably and shifted in his seat. "And you never... well... you stopped romancing men after we got together... after the Archdemon was slain... And I wasn't romancing anyone serious since Morrigan left... So even though you and I never... oh this is really awkward..." He paused again and took another sip, but Zevran remained silent, waiting for Wolf to finish what he had to say. "I feel like I never reciprocated your affection in a way that shows what you mean to me, in a way you would have wanted... you aren't just another friend... I feel like if I get involved with Cassandra, it would come between us. I like her a lot, but this isn't worth hurting your feelings. And so I am at a loss..."
"You are afraid that your relationship with Cassandra may become serious," Zevran summarised. "And that you would be 'unfaithful' to me in that case. Worry not, my friend, for I know you need a woman, and I am a man. I shall not abandon you."
"I wish I could..." Wolf shook his head.
"No need," Zevran smiled. "You telling me this now is enough. But I wonder... What will you do when your Imperial Legion calls you back? Because one day they will."
"Yes, this thought crossed my mind many times," Wolf nodded. "It could be years still, but one day they'll call me back, that is the point. Yet my stay here in Thedas is too long not to make bonds... I suppose when they do call me back, I'll have to either break my bonds or perhaps ask the other person to come with me... Would you be willing to leave Antiva behind and come with me to Tamriel?" He looked up; he surprised himself with this question, he never meant to ask it, not yet... but he thought of it often. Zevran would be better off in Tamriel, there was no stigma against elves there, he would no longer be a slave... but he would have to leave his beloved Antiva behind, and Wolf felt it might be too big a sacrifice.
"I... that is a hard question," Zevran agreed. "When the Archdemon was slain, you offered me to stay with the Wardens, even if I didn't want to become a Grey Warden myself. That was easy, and I accepted it gladly. Antiva was still only a few days travel away... But Tamriel is too far for a casual visit. If I leave, it will be for a very long time... a lifetime, perhaps. But not to leave would mean for me to remain here alone... I don't know if Antiva would still shine without you being there as well."
Zevran fell silent. They sat on the tower roof sipping their brandy, watching the sun set into the mountain tops and the stars dot the sky.
"Do the stars look the same in Tamriel?" Zevran asked softly.
"They do," Wolf nodded. "And we have two moons as well..."
"Two moons..." Zevran smiled. "Have you noticed ours? No moons at all for the most part, but sometimes one large moon rises..."
"Masser," Wolf pointed at a crescent just visible over the mountains. "You see it better in the Hissing Wastes..."
"Ah, the desert in the West," Zevran was looking at the stars. "Indeed. But sometimes it also rises above Antiva..."
"I am not leaving yet, my friend," Wolf said softly. "It may be still years. You don't need to decide today."
"I think I know already though," Zevran turned to look at him. "I'll collect what memories I can of Antiva... and then I'll come with you. The moon will be there to remind me of home until perhaps I find a new home in Tamriel."
"I am glad," Wolf raised a toast. "When this Inquisition is over and the darkspawn threat is defeated once again, we should leave for Antiva. The Crows send their regards."
"You want to take over the Crows?" Zevran laughed. "That would be something..."
"No, I want to play," Wolf winked. "I am not a Crows assassin, but you still are. Can I not be your sidekick for a change? I'm sure the Legion will wait."
"And what about Grey Wardens?" Zevran looked up.
"They need a vacation," Wolf grinned. "Grey Wardens deserve some boredom without any duties for a time. There aren't many of us left in Ferelden... and perhaps this time if the Crows get a contract on one or the other Grey Warden, they will actually succeed..."
"Oh you want to... The Crows will be honoured, I'm sure," Zevran laughed and raised a toast. "The Crows send their regards!"
...
"Cassandra, I'd like to speak with you, please," Wolf approached Cassandra interrupting her training. "That dummy needs replacing," he noted with a smile. "And while they are doing that... There's a grove just outside of the main gate, down the path - do you know it?" Cassandra nodded. "Well... meet me there in a bit."
"What is it about?" Cassandra squinted.
"You'll see," Wolf smiled, noting her paleness. "You won't need your sword, I hope."
He turned around and walked away, leaving Cassandra quite nervous. She did have an idea what it was about... and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She loitered and played for time, she first went to see the quartermaster about the dummy... but when she could no longer pretend to have duties, she went to the grove.
She noticed Zevran loitering near the start of the path, pretending not to watch it. "So he wants to prevent us being disturbed," she thought. As she walked and the castle behind her became hidden from view, she saw candles and lanterns adorning the grove, flowers never before seen growing there, she saw a picnic set out in the middle with cheese and wine and grapes... but other than that, the grove seemed deserted.
Away with your fictions of flimsy romance;
Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove!
Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance,
Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.
Cassandra spun around, but there were too many trees and leafy bushes to see anything or anyone.
Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow,
Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove;
From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow,
Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love!
"And this is the poem you chose?" She spoke in the direction of Wolf's voice. "A poem that was once forbidden?"
If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,
Or the Nine be desposed from your service to rove,
Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse,
and try the effect of the first kiss of love.
Cassandra laughed softly and replied with a verse of her own:
In play, there are two pleasures for your choosing-
The one is winning, and the other losing.
Wolf stepped out into the grove.
Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth,
From Adam till now, has with wretchedness strove,
Some portion of paradise still is on earth,
And Eden revives in the first kiss of love.
Cassandra leaned onto a tree, relaxing and letting go. Letting go of what? She wasn't certain, but it felt as if chains were falling away from her heart.
She spoke in a softer, gentler tone, her Navarran accent strongly resembling that of the depths of Skyrim.
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past-
For years fleet away with the wings of the dove-
Wolf stood just behind her, not rushing into contact. He felt he should let her take the lead. Just another line...
The dearest rememberance will still be the last-
She spun around, facing him.
Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love.
...
"Why did you do all this?" Cassandra sat up on the picnic blanket. The evening was unexpectedly warm, or perhaps they didn't feel the chill for other reasons. "This romantic place..." she looked around. "The lights, the flowers..."
"The wine and the cheese as well," Wolf laughed, handing her a goblet. "I know you only mentioned the candles and flowers, and the shops around here are short on poetry books... so I had to make do with what I knew by heart. And you knew it too, I notice." He pulled her close and kissed her again. "I always felt you were a romantic."
"I was... once," she nodded and smiled. "But after my brother's death... I was too angry for too long. Then I met a man who changed all that... he was a mage... we were together for a year or two, in the middle of the rebellion, of the civil war... imagine - a mage and a Seeker! We couldn't meet much... And then he died in the explosion at the Conclave." She paused, taking a sip of her wine. "And you survived... the only one to survive that explosion, and it wasn't he!" She looked at Wolf and shook her head.
"So you put me in chains," Wolf nodded. "Your interrogation... well, it wasn't technically a torture... but only technically..." He smirked. "I understand now, Cassandra."
"But duty took over," she nodded. "You had the mark, and it worked in closing rifts, so like it or not, we had to keep you, and keep you alive... Oh how I would have liked to swap your life for his!" She gave a short laugh. "And then... with everything you did... even if I disagreed... And now this picnic, the poetry... Am I just a challenge to you? Have I just lost?"
"I love you, Cassandra," Wolf said without hesitation, surprising himself perhaps more than her.
"Do you?" She looked at him searching. "You better, Warden-Commander..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Poetry: Lord Byron, "The First Kiss of Love", December 1806; also two lines from "Don Juan", 1819.
Morning Star, 3E399 - Duties and requests
The Inquisition was very busy. The mage-templar war was stopped, but not in the way people had hoped. Instead of templars clashing with mages, there were now new kind of templars with their own agenda, plus a cult of mages from Tevinter with a similar agenda. These mages and templars didn't fight between themselves but instead focused on mining red lyrium where veins already existed, and creating new veins where there were none. And that was done by growing red lyrium on the bodies of people... The same thing that Wolf and others had seen in the darkspawn prison where they ended up during their expedition to the Deep Roads years ago. Now no villager was safe, people were being captured and sent to red lyrium farms, never to return. It was a terrible fate. The darkspawn lord lost his army of rebel mages and his army of Grey Wardens, but he still had an army of templars and another army of Tevinter mages... And of course he also had a dragon. All in all, the Inquisition still had a lot to do.
"We must see to it that we disable those armies," Cullen was arguing at the war table. "We can disrupt lyrium supplies and disable as many red lyrium farms as we are able. That'll bring him to his knees!"
"It is a nice idea but it won't work," Leliana cut him off. "If he has an Archdemon, we need an army of Grey Wardens to tackle it, and the Grey Wardens Order is severely short on manpower..."
"We were short on manpower ten years ago, during the Blight, with just Alistair and myself being the entire Grey Wardens contingent," Wolf pointed out. "We made alliances. You were there, Leliana, you should know."
"I know!" She protested. "I also know that we now have that darkspawn lord on top!"
"So then, we take the fight to them!" Cullen slammed his fist on the table. "It's been long enough!"
"And where exactly would that be?" Josephine joined in. "Nobody knows where this lord is hiding or how to draw him out! It seems to me he will come to us, and we'll have to fight him on his terms, not ours!"
After half an hour of circular arguments Wolf threw up his hands in the air and left the room.
"The Inquisition is at an impasse, I see," Dorian joined him in the garden. "I'd say take it one task at a time. Those mages from Tevinter... I can imagine what drives them. Tevinter was once the grandest empire in Thedas... Tevinter was Thedas, the other kingdoms did not even exist. Well, that's because we had enslaved everyone... Horrible, I know, but it is still my homeland. These mages probably hope to restore our lost glory... but I don't know how it fits with that darkspawn lord... Was he a Magister from Tevinter, perhaps? Still alive after a thousand years?"
"He told me he spent a thousand years in the Grey Wardens prison," Wolf nodded. "So yeah, it could be true."
"That would be since before the First Blight," Dorian rubbed his chin. "Well, your Chantry preaches that it were Tevinter Magisters who reached out to Heaven and corrupted the Maker's Golden City... While our Chantry naturally preaches that the Golden City was already corrupted when the Magisters got there... A slight distinction, whether or not the Blights are our fault."
"I think it doesn't matter, Dorian," Wolf shrugged. "It no longer matters who started it. The question now is how to prevent the next end of the world."
"Why was that lord imprisoned?" Dorian suddenly asked. "I mean, I understand why Grey Wardens imprisoned him then, after all the Order was just created and they were facing an unknown threat. But Grey Wardens learned to kill Archdemons since then. Why did they not kill that lord in the same way?"
"Hmm... I wish I knew..." Wolf shook his head.
"But you are a Warden-Commander," Dorian was not giving up. "Surely, someone knows. Why don't they share that knowledge with their Commanders?"
"I think something strange is happening at the Head Quarters," Wolf agreed. "But I have no time now to dive into that..."
...
"The Seekers have disappeared!" Cassandra looked very crossed and hit the dummy exceptionally hard. "They didn't join the templars, they didn't follow that darkspawn lord, as some had suggested. No, the whole Order just vanished!" Wham! The dummy had to pay for that.
"Out comes the dragon," Wolf smirked to himself. "Have you tried to find them?" He asked aloud.
"I have," Cassandra stopped hitting the dummy. "I got a few leads... I'd appreciate it if we could investigate them... even though I know you're very busy, Lord Inquisitor. And I want no favours on the account of..." She didn't get to finish her sentence because Lord Inquisitor took measures to temper the dragon with a kiss.
"Nonsense, Cassandra," he said softly, still holding her close. "Oh, don't worry, everyone already knows. Did you want to keep it a secret? So naturally it spread like wildfire. People do wonder whether you'll now settle down, whether we'll get married and have three children at least..."
"WHAT?!!!" Cassandra nearly jumped out of Wolf's embrace but he held her tightly.
"Isn't it what's expected of a fine noble couple like ourselves?" He smirked. "People are also talking that you down-sold yourself, Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, member of the Royal House of Nevarra, 87th in line for the throne. I am, after all, but a humble noble from the Free Marches..." He grinned, watching her roll her eyes. "Although House Trevelyan is going to be thrilled to learn that their 'lost son' liaised himself with the Pentaghasts."
"Oh drop it already!" Cassandra sighed. "I am too old to have children anyway..."
"Regrets?"
"Yes... No..." Cassandra shook her head. "I would have liked to experience motherhood... but I don't like everything else that comes with it. Like being a Lady of the Court, or staying at home, or giving up being a Seeker..."
"Romantic, as always," Wolf smiled. "We'll search for the missing Seekers, of course. And not because it's you who's asking... Well, not only because of that. Something isn't right..."
...
"Lord Inquisitor, if I could have a moment..." Josephine called out to Wolf when he was passing her office on the way to the war room. "I wonder if I may impose on you with a personal request?" She looked somewhat embarrassed. "It's about my family."
"Of course, Josephine," Wolf smiled. "The war council can wait. What is it?"
"Well... You see..." she stumbled, which was very unlike her. "My family, House Montilyet, has been exiled to Orlais from our native Antiva for over a century now. We've been disgraced, indebted..." she sighed, then shook her head. "Oh, very few people know about that. But such is the truth. I am the eldest child and the head of our House... and I found proof of that old intrigue. With it, our honour and standing can be reinstated. I sent it to the Empress of Orlais as is the proper procedure... but the messenger was found murdered with the proof missing. And now..." She looked even more uneasy. "Now I received a personal threat. It seems, there is a contract on my life... not with the Antivan Crows but a rival assassins group in Orlais... so..." She seemed unsure how to proceed with her request.
"We need to deal with the assassins somehow," Wolf nodded. "And you'll need a bodyguard."
"Yes, well, that... err... That's where my request comes in," she smiled. "Your friend is a Crows assassin... Zevran, is it? Perhaps he would know what to do?"
"Zevran can guard your life, for sure," Wolf nodded. "But we need to deal with the contract."
"Yes, I know, he is your friend, not mine, but may be now that you have Cassandra to soothe your nights..."
"Josephine!" Wolf didn't like where that was going. "Zevran can guard your life, but he is no whore."
"Oh I would never..!" Josephine blushed to the roots of her dark hair.
"Lady Montilyet, let us return to the topic of the contract," Wolf said quite formally. "If it is not held by the Antivan Crows, Zevran can only assist in guarding your life, not in eliminating the contract. Tell me the rest."
"Well, I received a letter from a certain Marquis in Orlais... inviting me to discuss this contract," Josephine recovered from her embarrassment. "Only I know that man. He is about as likely to be involved as the Empress' favourite rabbit... It is clearly a trap, yet one I cannot ignore. Will you come with me to this meeting, Lord Trevelyan?" She looked at him and smiled. "For moral support."
"I'll bring my best daggers," Wolf smiled.
...
"Lord Inquisitor!" Leliana was out of breath. "I'm glad I could catch you here at Skyhold. I have a favour to ask."
"Of course you do," Wolf turned around. "Let's hear it."
"I received a letter from the late Divine..."
"What?! But she's dead!"
"It is a will of sorts," Leliana giggled at the effect of her statement. "She didn't send it after her death, she wrote it a long time ago and left it with a trustee to be dispatched upon her demise. He now forwarded it to me. She left something for me at the Chantry where she was a priest. But I feel uneasy about it..."
"And you want me to come with you in case it is a trap," Wolf nodded. "Alright."
"Please!" Leliana looked pleadingly at him. "For old times sake! Please, Warden-Commander!"
"But I already agreed," Wolf smiled. "Of course I'll help. Even if you and I disagree on just about every matter."
"Oh... Yes... thank you," Leliana smiled. "Let's not delay it too much though, it could be important."
...
"Warden, if I may have a word?" Varric called out to Wolf in the Great Hall. "It's about..."
"Red lyrium," a dwarven woman whom Wolf had never seen before, was standing next to Varric.
"This is Bianca," Varric introduced her.
"Ah, like the crossbow," Wolf grinned. "So this one is the original, is she, Varric?" He winked.
"Well..."
"I am." Bianca beamed at him. "And I've got something to tell you... and to show you. It's about red lyrium and how your darkspawn lord knew about its existence."
"Alright," Wolf nodded. "And you want us to leave straight away, no doubt?"
"Well, Bianca does need to get back..." Varric shuffled his feet.
"At your service," Wolf grinned. "I think we'll cancel war council meetings for the next month."
...
Everyone wanted something from Wolf all of a sudden. Every single person asked for a favour. Everyone except Dorian. So Wolf sought out Dorian himself.
"Can you explain this to me?" He looked at Dorian quizzically. "They all want something, they all have needs that only Lord Inquisitor can fulfil... but not you?"
"'What's wrong with you?' - is that what you are asking?" Dorian laughed. "But no, I have no favours to ask. I handle my affairs myself."
"So, there's something, then," Wolf smiled. "It's safe to tell me, you know I'm quite impartial in this."
"Well... It isn't that important." Dorian looked away and Wolf got a distinct impression that it was very important.
"It's your call, Dorian," Wolf said quietly. "Just remember that I'm your friend and I'll help if I can. The darkspawn lord can wait, I'm sure."
"Yes, well... You will think it silly... I recently broke up with a... friend... well, lover. I had given him a gift... in better days... it's a family trinket of mine, it's my birthright as a Magister. A token, if you like. And while I have no plans on becoming a Magister myself, I want that trinket back because I don't want him to have it... not after... well... we didn't remain friends." Dorian fell silent.
"But you still love him," Wolf nodded.
"Yes... despite what came to pass. How did you know?"
"It shows."
"I never thought..."
"A wounded heart shows," Wolf looked at Dorian sideways. "Even though you don't wear it on your sleeve. But I can see the signs. What do you want me to do?"
"He must not die over this," Dorian looked at Wolf. "But perhaps you could talk to him..?"
...
"People trust you, you've earned the authority," Anders was giving his take on the matter when Wolf complained that everyone started asking favours all of a sudden. "These are not new matters, and may be each of them was grinding to a halt... festering without resolution..."
"I've declined a few," Wolf looked at him. "Vivienne asked me to hunt some ferocious beast for its heart so that she could fulfil a request of some noble or other... I don't see why she thought I'd do it!"
"She was testing you, perhaps?" Anders shrugged.
"Well, then she failed," Wolf scowled. "I am no doormat, even if it does seem otherwise sometimes..."
"Oh no, you are no doormat, Warden-Commander," Anders laughed. "We all know that. But people like Vivienne, they find themselves too important to look around."
"Yeah... If she wants to leave, she won't be missed."
It was good to talk to an old friend who had no favours to ask. Wolf spent the rest of the day with the Wardens until Oghren finally drank him under the table. No one could outdrink Oghren, but it was always fun to try.
"The ppproblem with your Inquisssssssition..." Oghren tried to speak between hiccups, "...is that evvvvveryone has an agenda. Not like the Wwwwwardens who jusssssst want to..."
"Smash all darkspawwwwwwwn!!" Someone picked up his sentence.
"Rrrright!! Bartender..!"
"You drank all the ale! What am I supposed to serve you?!" The bartender kicked an empty barrel.
"It matters not," Anders raised his head. "Nothing burns quite like the Joining Cup..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Inquisition was very busy. The mage-templar war was stopped, but not in the way people had hoped. Instead of templars clashing with mages, there were now new kind of templars with their own agenda, plus a cult of mages from Tevinter with a similar agenda. These mages and templars didn't fight between themselves but instead focused on mining red lyrium where veins already existed, and creating new veins where there were none. And that was done by growing red lyrium on the bodies of people... The same thing that Wolf and others had seen in the darkspawn prison where they ended up during their expedition to the Deep Roads years ago. Now no villager was safe, people were being captured and sent to red lyrium farms, never to return. It was a terrible fate. The darkspawn lord lost his army of rebel mages and his army of Grey Wardens, but he still had an army of templars and another army of Tevinter mages... And of course he also had a dragon. All in all, the Inquisition still had a lot to do.
"We must see to it that we disable those armies," Cullen was arguing at the war table. "We can disrupt lyrium supplies and disable as many red lyrium farms as we are able. That'll bring him to his knees!"
"It is a nice idea but it won't work," Leliana cut him off. "If he has an Archdemon, we need an army of Grey Wardens to tackle it, and the Grey Wardens Order is severely short on manpower..."
"We were short on manpower ten years ago, during the Blight, with just Alistair and myself being the entire Grey Wardens contingent," Wolf pointed out. "We made alliances. You were there, Leliana, you should know."
"I know!" She protested. "I also know that we now have that darkspawn lord on top!"
"So then, we take the fight to them!" Cullen slammed his fist on the table. "It's been long enough!"
"And where exactly would that be?" Josephine joined in. "Nobody knows where this lord is hiding or how to draw him out! It seems to me he will come to us, and we'll have to fight him on his terms, not ours!"
After half an hour of circular arguments Wolf threw up his hands in the air and left the room.
"The Inquisition is at an impasse, I see," Dorian joined him in the garden. "I'd say take it one task at a time. Those mages from Tevinter... I can imagine what drives them. Tevinter was once the grandest empire in Thedas... Tevinter was Thedas, the other kingdoms did not even exist. Well, that's because we had enslaved everyone... Horrible, I know, but it is still my homeland. These mages probably hope to restore our lost glory... but I don't know how it fits with that darkspawn lord... Was he a Magister from Tevinter, perhaps? Still alive after a thousand years?"
"He told me he spent a thousand years in the Grey Wardens prison," Wolf nodded. "So yeah, it could be true."
"That would be since before the First Blight," Dorian rubbed his chin. "Well, your Chantry preaches that it were Tevinter Magisters who reached out to Heaven and corrupted the Maker's Golden City... While our Chantry naturally preaches that the Golden City was already corrupted when the Magisters got there... A slight distinction, whether or not the Blights are our fault."
"I think it doesn't matter, Dorian," Wolf shrugged. "It no longer matters who started it. The question now is how to prevent the next end of the world."
"Why was that lord imprisoned?" Dorian suddenly asked. "I mean, I understand why Grey Wardens imprisoned him then, after all the Order was just created and they were facing an unknown threat. But Grey Wardens learned to kill Archdemons since then. Why did they not kill that lord in the same way?"
"Hmm... I wish I knew..." Wolf shook his head.
"But you are a Warden-Commander," Dorian was not giving up. "Surely, someone knows. Why don't they share that knowledge with their Commanders?"
"I think something strange is happening at the Head Quarters," Wolf agreed. "But I have no time now to dive into that..."
...
"The Seekers have disappeared!" Cassandra looked very crossed and hit the dummy exceptionally hard. "They didn't join the templars, they didn't follow that darkspawn lord, as some had suggested. No, the whole Order just vanished!" Wham! The dummy had to pay for that.
"Out comes the dragon," Wolf smirked to himself. "Have you tried to find them?" He asked aloud.
"I have," Cassandra stopped hitting the dummy. "I got a few leads... I'd appreciate it if we could investigate them... even though I know you're very busy, Lord Inquisitor. And I want no favours on the account of..." She didn't get to finish her sentence because Lord Inquisitor took measures to temper the dragon with a kiss.
"Nonsense, Cassandra," he said softly, still holding her close. "Oh, don't worry, everyone already knows. Did you want to keep it a secret? So naturally it spread like wildfire. People do wonder whether you'll now settle down, whether we'll get married and have three children at least..."
"WHAT?!!!" Cassandra nearly jumped out of Wolf's embrace but he held her tightly.
"Isn't it what's expected of a fine noble couple like ourselves?" He smirked. "People are also talking that you down-sold yourself, Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, member of the Royal House of Nevarra, 87th in line for the throne. I am, after all, but a humble noble from the Free Marches..." He grinned, watching her roll her eyes. "Although House Trevelyan is going to be thrilled to learn that their 'lost son' liaised himself with the Pentaghasts."
"Oh drop it already!" Cassandra sighed. "I am too old to have children anyway..."
"Regrets?"
"Yes... No..." Cassandra shook her head. "I would have liked to experience motherhood... but I don't like everything else that comes with it. Like being a Lady of the Court, or staying at home, or giving up being a Seeker..."
"Romantic, as always," Wolf smiled. "We'll search for the missing Seekers, of course. And not because it's you who's asking... Well, not only because of that. Something isn't right..."
...
"Lord Inquisitor, if I could have a moment..." Josephine called out to Wolf when he was passing her office on the way to the war room. "I wonder if I may impose on you with a personal request?" She looked somewhat embarrassed. "It's about my family."
"Of course, Josephine," Wolf smiled. "The war council can wait. What is it?"
"Well... You see..." she stumbled, which was very unlike her. "My family, House Montilyet, has been exiled to Orlais from our native Antiva for over a century now. We've been disgraced, indebted..." she sighed, then shook her head. "Oh, very few people know about that. But such is the truth. I am the eldest child and the head of our House... and I found proof of that old intrigue. With it, our honour and standing can be reinstated. I sent it to the Empress of Orlais as is the proper procedure... but the messenger was found murdered with the proof missing. And now..." She looked even more uneasy. "Now I received a personal threat. It seems, there is a contract on my life... not with the Antivan Crows but a rival assassins group in Orlais... so..." She seemed unsure how to proceed with her request.
"We need to deal with the assassins somehow," Wolf nodded. "And you'll need a bodyguard."
"Yes, well, that... err... That's where my request comes in," she smiled. "Your friend is a Crows assassin... Zevran, is it? Perhaps he would know what to do?"
"Zevran can guard your life, for sure," Wolf nodded. "But we need to deal with the contract."
"Yes, I know, he is your friend, not mine, but may be now that you have Cassandra to soothe your nights..."
"Josephine!" Wolf didn't like where that was going. "Zevran can guard your life, but he is no whore."
"Oh I would never..!" Josephine blushed to the roots of her dark hair.
"Lady Montilyet, let us return to the topic of the contract," Wolf said quite formally. "If it is not held by the Antivan Crows, Zevran can only assist in guarding your life, not in eliminating the contract. Tell me the rest."
"Well, I received a letter from a certain Marquis in Orlais... inviting me to discuss this contract," Josephine recovered from her embarrassment. "Only I know that man. He is about as likely to be involved as the Empress' favourite rabbit... It is clearly a trap, yet one I cannot ignore. Will you come with me to this meeting, Lord Trevelyan?" She looked at him and smiled. "For moral support."
"I'll bring my best daggers," Wolf smiled.
...
"Lord Inquisitor!" Leliana was out of breath. "I'm glad I could catch you here at Skyhold. I have a favour to ask."
"Of course you do," Wolf turned around. "Let's hear it."
"I received a letter from the late Divine..."
"What?! But she's dead!"
"It is a will of sorts," Leliana giggled at the effect of her statement. "She didn't send it after her death, she wrote it a long time ago and left it with a trustee to be dispatched upon her demise. He now forwarded it to me. She left something for me at the Chantry where she was a priest. But I feel uneasy about it..."
"And you want me to come with you in case it is a trap," Wolf nodded. "Alright."
"Please!" Leliana looked pleadingly at him. "For old times sake! Please, Warden-Commander!"
"But I already agreed," Wolf smiled. "Of course I'll help. Even if you and I disagree on just about every matter."
"Oh... Yes... thank you," Leliana smiled. "Let's not delay it too much though, it could be important."
...
"Warden, if I may have a word?" Varric called out to Wolf in the Great Hall. "It's about..."
"Red lyrium," a dwarven woman whom Wolf had never seen before, was standing next to Varric.
"This is Bianca," Varric introduced her.
"Ah, like the crossbow," Wolf grinned. "So this one is the original, is she, Varric?" He winked.
"Well..."
"I am." Bianca beamed at him. "And I've got something to tell you... and to show you. It's about red lyrium and how your darkspawn lord knew about its existence."
"Alright," Wolf nodded. "And you want us to leave straight away, no doubt?"
"Well, Bianca does need to get back..." Varric shuffled his feet.
"At your service," Wolf grinned. "I think we'll cancel war council meetings for the next month."
...
Everyone wanted something from Wolf all of a sudden. Every single person asked for a favour. Everyone except Dorian. So Wolf sought out Dorian himself.
"Can you explain this to me?" He looked at Dorian quizzically. "They all want something, they all have needs that only Lord Inquisitor can fulfil... but not you?"
"'What's wrong with you?' - is that what you are asking?" Dorian laughed. "But no, I have no favours to ask. I handle my affairs myself."
"So, there's something, then," Wolf smiled. "It's safe to tell me, you know I'm quite impartial in this."
"Well... It isn't that important." Dorian looked away and Wolf got a distinct impression that it was very important.
"It's your call, Dorian," Wolf said quietly. "Just remember that I'm your friend and I'll help if I can. The darkspawn lord can wait, I'm sure."
"Yes, well... You will think it silly... I recently broke up with a... friend... well, lover. I had given him a gift... in better days... it's a family trinket of mine, it's my birthright as a Magister. A token, if you like. And while I have no plans on becoming a Magister myself, I want that trinket back because I don't want him to have it... not after... well... we didn't remain friends." Dorian fell silent.
"But you still love him," Wolf nodded.
"Yes... despite what came to pass. How did you know?"
"It shows."
"I never thought..."
"A wounded heart shows," Wolf looked at Dorian sideways. "Even though you don't wear it on your sleeve. But I can see the signs. What do you want me to do?"
"He must not die over this," Dorian looked at Wolf. "But perhaps you could talk to him..?"
...
"People trust you, you've earned the authority," Anders was giving his take on the matter when Wolf complained that everyone started asking favours all of a sudden. "These are not new matters, and may be each of them was grinding to a halt... festering without resolution..."
"I've declined a few," Wolf looked at him. "Vivienne asked me to hunt some ferocious beast for its heart so that she could fulfil a request of some noble or other... I don't see why she thought I'd do it!"
"She was testing you, perhaps?" Anders shrugged.
"Well, then she failed," Wolf scowled. "I am no doormat, even if it does seem otherwise sometimes..."
"Oh no, you are no doormat, Warden-Commander," Anders laughed. "We all know that. But people like Vivienne, they find themselves too important to look around."
"Yeah... If she wants to leave, she won't be missed."
It was good to talk to an old friend who had no favours to ask. Wolf spent the rest of the day with the Wardens until Oghren finally drank him under the table. No one could outdrink Oghren, but it was always fun to try.
"The ppproblem with your Inquisssssssition..." Oghren tried to speak between hiccups, "...is that evvvvveryone has an agenda. Not like the Wwwwwardens who jusssssst want to..."
"Smash all darkspawwwwwwwn!!" Someone picked up his sentence.
"Rrrright!! Bartender..!"
"You drank all the ale! What am I supposed to serve you?!" The bartender kicked an empty barrel.
"It matters not," Anders raised his head. "Nothing burns quite like the Joining Cup..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun's Dawn, 3E399 - Revelations
"We have a breakthrough," Josephine proudly declared during a war council meeting. "The Empress of Orlais is sending us her Arcane Adviser, a mage who is exceptionally versed in the matters of the Fade as well as ancient artefacts..."
"But we already have such a mage," Cassandra interrupted, confused. "Solas."
"Yes, well, but this mage is not an elf herself," Josephine pointed out.
"So? Why is that better?" Cassandra squinted.
"That makes her impartial!"
"Hardly!"
"Stop arguing and tells us who she is!" Wolf had had enough of it. It was always the same thing - arguments, arguments and arguments.
"Her name is Lady Morrigan," Josephine consulted her notes. "She is the Arcane Adviser to the Empress of Orlais."
"Morrigan?!" Wolf, Leliana and Cullen exclaimed in chorus. "An adviser to the Empress??" Wolf couldn't get over the surprise.
"Yes... Why are you all staring at me?" Josephine took a step back.
"Morrigan is the Witch of the Wilds," Leliana said with a hiss.
"Morrigan is an apostate!" Cullen scowled.
"Morrigan... is coming here?" Wolf asked softly and Cassandra shot him a glance.
"They should be here shortly," Josephine confirmed, consulting her notes again. "She is also bringing her son."
...
"Morrigan?!" Alistair was as surprised as Wolf. "What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean? I'm going to hear what she has to say... err..." Wolf shuffled his feet.
"Yeah... I bet she'll have something to say..." Alistair shook his head. "And the boy with her? Your son?"
"Yes..." Wolf nodded. "But you remember..."
"He's got a soul of an ancient god, straight out of the Archdemon," Alistair nodded. "Yes, I remember. I always knew it was a bad idea."
"No point dwelling on it now, the boy is ten years old. I rather wonder why Morrigan decided to come here now. I'm sure it is not because of me," Wolf pointed out. "In all these years she never made contact, and she did make me promise to leave her alone. So I wonder what changed."
"The hole in the sky may have something to do with it," Alistair smirked. "And that glowing mark on your hand."
The following day Morrigan arrived at Skyhold. She had an oxcart laden with something very large encased in a sturdy wooden box the size of a wardrobe. Yet Wolf didn't think it contained any dresses. Once Morrigan settled in, she called the war council to explain her presence.
"I am here because I believe I can help you find your darkspawn lord," she stated without a preamble. "You all know who I am, some of you better than others," she shot a glance at Leliana. "Oh please don't act surprised, Sister," she smirked. "I've noticed your crows circling around my quarters at the palace. You knew exactly where I was and what I was doing. But to business," she turned to Wolf. "You remember the eluvian that I went through just after my son... our son was born? Well, I brought such an eluvian with me, recovered from a crumbling elven ruin. It leads to a crossroads of sorts, a space in the Fade with many other eluvians in it. Each leads either to another pocket of the Fade, or to a place in Thedas, or somewhere in between. And by that I mean a plane where ancient elves used to live. Modern elves believe it was in the forests of Thedas, but they are wrong. It was on a different plane, a plane they can no longer reach, and thus it is no more than a legend now. When you caught that elven artefact which left the mark on your hand," she looked at Wolf again, "you spoiled the ritual that your darkspawn lord was trying to perform. That artefact was changed and can no longer be used as he had intended. I believe he will now try to reach that elven plane in order to either purify the artefact or find something to replace it. That plane has many temples and many solutions, I am sure."
"So all we have to do is enter that plane before he does and stop him," Cullen summarised with sarcasm. "Do you even know what you are proposing, witch?!"
"I do not believe you have a choice," Morrigan answered coldly. "Hiding in a cage won't save you this time, Cullen."
"What..?" Cullen paled and swallowed.
"Leave him be, Morrigan," Wolf turned to her with some authority. "Cullen was one of the few to withstand that horror in the Circle Tower. No! Stop it. It's ten years on, and we're all older and wiser now."
"Older, yes, but wiser..." Morrigan sighed and shook her head. "Oh very well. Since you asked so nicely."
"We have been stuck in an impass for months," Wolf looked at everyone in turn. "We've tracked down all templar leutenants, all red lyrium mines that we could find, we eliminated various groups of Tevinter mages, we found the missing Seekers... I am sorry, Cassandra... I am sorry that we found them dead," he paused. "We've followed every lead, and none of them brought us any closer to actually finding that darkspawn lord, let alone foiling his plan. Morrigan brings a new approach. I say we must follow up and see where it leads."
...
Morrigan knew what she was talking about. She showed Wolf the crossroads with all the other eluvians there, most of them dark and inactive. She found one that would lead to a ruin with an eluvian leading into the Fade, to the Golden City.
"This is what your darkspawn lord wants," she explained. "The Golden City, the seat of the Maker. Of course, it is no longer Golden, it's been corrupted and is now known as the Black City, but it is the same place. If he reaches it, he won't need any other artefacts - from there he can rule the world. Or destroy it."
"So we have to get to that eluvian and prevent him from using it," Wolf nodded. "Good grief..."
It wasn't easy by any stretch of imagination, but they did get to the ruin that Morrigan was talking about. It had an eluvian, but it was inactive.
"So for the better!" Wolf smiled. "It isn't working! He won't be able to get through!"
"Each eluvian has a key... something that activates it... they are all different," Morrigan stepped into a pond in front of it. "I wonder what opens this one..?"
At that moment the darkspawn lord appeared. He was enraged - he had seen all the corpses of his templars littering the way.
"You defeated my templars, but your fight is only just beginning!" He bellowed and attacked. He summoned demons by the dozen, the fighting was worse than anything they'd seen before. Several Grey Wardens ran in, the lord's personal guard, their minds fully controlled by him. "Why Grey Wardens?" Wolf wondered. "Are we really better at fighting than templars?" The thought caressed his ego and gave him a second wind...
Eventually they prevailed. The lord's Grey Wardens lay dead, his demons vanished and he himself was on the ground. Wolf ran up to him and thrust a dagger through the heart. "In Death, Sacrifice," he repeated the Grey Wardens motto, fully expecting to die. By all accounts this darkspawn lord was akin an Archdemon, which meant that his spirit would leave the body behind and seek one with the taint, namely him, Wolf, who dealt the killing blow. Wolf would die, and with him also the darkspawn lord. "Hawke could not kill him because Hawke is not a Grey Warden," he told himself. "I shall do better."
Everyone saw a wisp leaving the corpse of the darkspawn lord. The wisp hovered over Wolf, then moved on. It entered a dead Grey Warden, first animating the corpse, then transforming it into darkspawn, then into a dragon, nay, a wyvern, something half-finished but good enough to take off and fly away...
...
"What just happened?" Cullen asked in a fallen voice. Everyone was stunned.
"The darkspawn lord was reborn in the body of a Grey Warden," Morrigan said in a near whisper. "Do you realise what this means?!" She cried out, looking at each of them in turn. "That he cannot be killed! Not even by a Grey Warden!"
"That explains why the first Grey Wardens locked him away in that prison," Varric nodded. "And then I had to let him out..."
"Nonsense, he manipulated people to arrange his release," Wolf shook his head. "It isn't your fault. What I want to know however, is why these Grey Wardens were so completely taken over, while others are still able to resist... What did he do to them..?" He knelt over a dead Grey Warden. "He looks... he was dying... corruption in his blood was too great... This fate awaits us all... hmm... I wonder..."
"He did not fight like a dying man," Iron Bull objected. "He was strong... too strong, perhaps..."
"Red lyrium?" Cullen also knelt over the body. "No, doesn't look like it... His corruption is black, just like the Blight..."
"Yes, this is what the taint does to us, in about fifty years..." Wolf nodded. "But it also takes away strength, not increases it... Something isn't right..."
"Let's bring him back to Skyhold," Cullen suddenly suggested. "And the other dead Grey Warden too. Give them a proper burial."
"What about the templars?" Wolf looked around. "Don't they deserve a funeral as well?"
"May be we can come back for them?"
"Hello, this is not the most important thing right now!" Morrigan interrupted Wolf's and Cullen's musings. "We have to figure out how to work this eluvian. Then you can come and go as you please!"
"Why?" Wolf turned to her. "Why do we need this eluvian?"
"Because it leads to the Golden City!"
"Nonsense, Morrigan," Wolf shook his head. "You don't have all the answers. You don't know where it leads. And if it does lead to the Golden City - or rather the Black City now - then going there will serve no purpose other than to satisfy your curiosity."
"But it's an ancient artefact! It's what your darkspawn lord wanted!" She protested. "And for that reason we must find the key, activate it, learn where it leads and then deactivate it so that he could not use it! And yes, I do want to know."
"Fine," Wolf scowled. "You figure it out while Cullen and I tend to the dead."
He walked away. He failed to kill the darkspawn lord. He killed him, but didn't kill his soul. Did it mean that he could never be killed? Did they just lose that war? Did it mean that the world would die with them? Learning the secrets of the eluvian seemed pointless and unimportant in comparison.
The elven temple was silent, death flooding the halls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"We have a breakthrough," Josephine proudly declared during a war council meeting. "The Empress of Orlais is sending us her Arcane Adviser, a mage who is exceptionally versed in the matters of the Fade as well as ancient artefacts..."
"But we already have such a mage," Cassandra interrupted, confused. "Solas."
"Yes, well, but this mage is not an elf herself," Josephine pointed out.
"So? Why is that better?" Cassandra squinted.
"That makes her impartial!"
"Hardly!"
"Stop arguing and tells us who she is!" Wolf had had enough of it. It was always the same thing - arguments, arguments and arguments.
"Her name is Lady Morrigan," Josephine consulted her notes. "She is the Arcane Adviser to the Empress of Orlais."
"Morrigan?!" Wolf, Leliana and Cullen exclaimed in chorus. "An adviser to the Empress??" Wolf couldn't get over the surprise.
"Yes... Why are you all staring at me?" Josephine took a step back.
"Morrigan is the Witch of the Wilds," Leliana said with a hiss.
"Morrigan is an apostate!" Cullen scowled.
"Morrigan... is coming here?" Wolf asked softly and Cassandra shot him a glance.
"They should be here shortly," Josephine confirmed, consulting her notes again. "She is also bringing her son."
...
"Morrigan?!" Alistair was as surprised as Wolf. "What are you going to do?"
"What do you mean? I'm going to hear what she has to say... err..." Wolf shuffled his feet.
"Yeah... I bet she'll have something to say..." Alistair shook his head. "And the boy with her? Your son?"
"Yes..." Wolf nodded. "But you remember..."
"He's got a soul of an ancient god, straight out of the Archdemon," Alistair nodded. "Yes, I remember. I always knew it was a bad idea."
"No point dwelling on it now, the boy is ten years old. I rather wonder why Morrigan decided to come here now. I'm sure it is not because of me," Wolf pointed out. "In all these years she never made contact, and she did make me promise to leave her alone. So I wonder what changed."
"The hole in the sky may have something to do with it," Alistair smirked. "And that glowing mark on your hand."
The following day Morrigan arrived at Skyhold. She had an oxcart laden with something very large encased in a sturdy wooden box the size of a wardrobe. Yet Wolf didn't think it contained any dresses. Once Morrigan settled in, she called the war council to explain her presence.
"I am here because I believe I can help you find your darkspawn lord," she stated without a preamble. "You all know who I am, some of you better than others," she shot a glance at Leliana. "Oh please don't act surprised, Sister," she smirked. "I've noticed your crows circling around my quarters at the palace. You knew exactly where I was and what I was doing. But to business," she turned to Wolf. "You remember the eluvian that I went through just after my son... our son was born? Well, I brought such an eluvian with me, recovered from a crumbling elven ruin. It leads to a crossroads of sorts, a space in the Fade with many other eluvians in it. Each leads either to another pocket of the Fade, or to a place in Thedas, or somewhere in between. And by that I mean a plane where ancient elves used to live. Modern elves believe it was in the forests of Thedas, but they are wrong. It was on a different plane, a plane they can no longer reach, and thus it is no more than a legend now. When you caught that elven artefact which left the mark on your hand," she looked at Wolf again, "you spoiled the ritual that your darkspawn lord was trying to perform. That artefact was changed and can no longer be used as he had intended. I believe he will now try to reach that elven plane in order to either purify the artefact or find something to replace it. That plane has many temples and many solutions, I am sure."
"So all we have to do is enter that plane before he does and stop him," Cullen summarised with sarcasm. "Do you even know what you are proposing, witch?!"
"I do not believe you have a choice," Morrigan answered coldly. "Hiding in a cage won't save you this time, Cullen."
"What..?" Cullen paled and swallowed.
"Leave him be, Morrigan," Wolf turned to her with some authority. "Cullen was one of the few to withstand that horror in the Circle Tower. No! Stop it. It's ten years on, and we're all older and wiser now."
"Older, yes, but wiser..." Morrigan sighed and shook her head. "Oh very well. Since you asked so nicely."
"We have been stuck in an impass for months," Wolf looked at everyone in turn. "We've tracked down all templar leutenants, all red lyrium mines that we could find, we eliminated various groups of Tevinter mages, we found the missing Seekers... I am sorry, Cassandra... I am sorry that we found them dead," he paused. "We've followed every lead, and none of them brought us any closer to actually finding that darkspawn lord, let alone foiling his plan. Morrigan brings a new approach. I say we must follow up and see where it leads."
...
Morrigan knew what she was talking about. She showed Wolf the crossroads with all the other eluvians there, most of them dark and inactive. She found one that would lead to a ruin with an eluvian leading into the Fade, to the Golden City.
"This is what your darkspawn lord wants," she explained. "The Golden City, the seat of the Maker. Of course, it is no longer Golden, it's been corrupted and is now known as the Black City, but it is the same place. If he reaches it, he won't need any other artefacts - from there he can rule the world. Or destroy it."
"So we have to get to that eluvian and prevent him from using it," Wolf nodded. "Good grief..."
It wasn't easy by any stretch of imagination, but they did get to the ruin that Morrigan was talking about. It had an eluvian, but it was inactive.
"So for the better!" Wolf smiled. "It isn't working! He won't be able to get through!"
"Each eluvian has a key... something that activates it... they are all different," Morrigan stepped into a pond in front of it. "I wonder what opens this one..?"
At that moment the darkspawn lord appeared. He was enraged - he had seen all the corpses of his templars littering the way.
"You defeated my templars, but your fight is only just beginning!" He bellowed and attacked. He summoned demons by the dozen, the fighting was worse than anything they'd seen before. Several Grey Wardens ran in, the lord's personal guard, their minds fully controlled by him. "Why Grey Wardens?" Wolf wondered. "Are we really better at fighting than templars?" The thought caressed his ego and gave him a second wind...
Eventually they prevailed. The lord's Grey Wardens lay dead, his demons vanished and he himself was on the ground. Wolf ran up to him and thrust a dagger through the heart. "In Death, Sacrifice," he repeated the Grey Wardens motto, fully expecting to die. By all accounts this darkspawn lord was akin an Archdemon, which meant that his spirit would leave the body behind and seek one with the taint, namely him, Wolf, who dealt the killing blow. Wolf would die, and with him also the darkspawn lord. "Hawke could not kill him because Hawke is not a Grey Warden," he told himself. "I shall do better."
Everyone saw a wisp leaving the corpse of the darkspawn lord. The wisp hovered over Wolf, then moved on. It entered a dead Grey Warden, first animating the corpse, then transforming it into darkspawn, then into a dragon, nay, a wyvern, something half-finished but good enough to take off and fly away...
...
"What just happened?" Cullen asked in a fallen voice. Everyone was stunned.
"The darkspawn lord was reborn in the body of a Grey Warden," Morrigan said in a near whisper. "Do you realise what this means?!" She cried out, looking at each of them in turn. "That he cannot be killed! Not even by a Grey Warden!"
"That explains why the first Grey Wardens locked him away in that prison," Varric nodded. "And then I had to let him out..."
"Nonsense, he manipulated people to arrange his release," Wolf shook his head. "It isn't your fault. What I want to know however, is why these Grey Wardens were so completely taken over, while others are still able to resist... What did he do to them..?" He knelt over a dead Grey Warden. "He looks... he was dying... corruption in his blood was too great... This fate awaits us all... hmm... I wonder..."
"He did not fight like a dying man," Iron Bull objected. "He was strong... too strong, perhaps..."
"Red lyrium?" Cullen also knelt over the body. "No, doesn't look like it... His corruption is black, just like the Blight..."
"Yes, this is what the taint does to us, in about fifty years..." Wolf nodded. "But it also takes away strength, not increases it... Something isn't right..."
"Let's bring him back to Skyhold," Cullen suddenly suggested. "And the other dead Grey Warden too. Give them a proper burial."
"What about the templars?" Wolf looked around. "Don't they deserve a funeral as well?"
"May be we can come back for them?"
"Hello, this is not the most important thing right now!" Morrigan interrupted Wolf's and Cullen's musings. "We have to figure out how to work this eluvian. Then you can come and go as you please!"
"Why?" Wolf turned to her. "Why do we need this eluvian?"
"Because it leads to the Golden City!"
"Nonsense, Morrigan," Wolf shook his head. "You don't have all the answers. You don't know where it leads. And if it does lead to the Golden City - or rather the Black City now - then going there will serve no purpose other than to satisfy your curiosity."
"But it's an ancient artefact! It's what your darkspawn lord wanted!" She protested. "And for that reason we must find the key, activate it, learn where it leads and then deactivate it so that he could not use it! And yes, I do want to know."
"Fine," Wolf scowled. "You figure it out while Cullen and I tend to the dead."
He walked away. He failed to kill the darkspawn lord. He killed him, but didn't kill his soul. Did it mean that he could never be killed? Did they just lose that war? Did it mean that the world would die with them? Learning the secrets of the eluvian seemed pointless and unimportant in comparison.
The elven temple was silent, death flooding the halls.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sun's Dawn, 3E399 - Reunion
"Please stay with me here," Morrigan spoke quietly to Wolf when most people wandered off, unsure what to do next. "I... am sorry. For everything... You're right, I don't have all the answers. And we haven't talked since I arrived... I was hoping to talk after it's all over, but it doesn't look like it'll be finished any time soon."
"You've always played your cards close to your chest," Wolf smirked. "I know. I just... this battle... and that darkspawn lord rising again... I admit, I don't see a way forward."
"'Tis not plain," Morrigan nodded. "But I do have thoughts... Only I don't want to bring them all out, for all to see... Send everyone home. We can always use the eluvian at Skyhold to come here, should you wish to collect the dead... Then stay here with me, I do believe this temple has what we need... I cannot explain why I believe it."
Wolf nodded. Whatever Morrigan was thinking, it was better than nothing at all.
"Cassandra..." Wolf approached her, but she shook her head.
"We'll talk later. When... you'll have made up your mind." She smiled and walked away with the others. Wolf and Morrigan were alone in the ancient elven temple with a pond in front of an inactive eluvian.
"I've seen your son," Wolf said, trying to sound neutral. "In the garden. He said hello to me but he does not know who I am."
"Our son," Morrigan smiled. "He knows that his father is a Grey Warden, and that he is alive. He knows that Grey Wardens have duties, that they must give up their families and peaceful life. His father is away as his duty commands... Is this not true?"
"His father would have liked to keep in touch if his mother hadn't prevented him," Wolf looked at her with scorn. "I bet you omitted that little fact."
"It is better that he does not know... the whole truth... as yet," Morrigan smiled. "He is but a boy."
"Why have you been staying away? I..." Wolf looked at her and sighed. "Well, yes... I loved you... Perhaps still do..."
"Then what of Cassandra?" Morrigan's voice sounded detached, betraying no emotion.
"It's been ten years, Morrigan... I never thought to see you again... I've waited... And yes, I shall leave Thedas one day, so why start another bond?" He smirked. "But life is a messy affair, is it not? Cassandra is a remarkable woman, and... well... it's good while it lasts. But it won't last, not with her. Like you, she is driven. Once the novelty of a love affair will have worn off, she'll want to return to her duties... and I won't fit into the saddle bags."
"That is not a very flattering opinion of her," Morrigan gave a short laugh. "Or of me, for that matter."
"But that's what you two have in common," Wolf smiled. "May be that's what I like in a woman..."
"That we don't stick around?"
"That you have your own life to live."
They were strolling through the elven ruin that lay silent around them. It was peaceful. The air seemed to have cleansed itself of the horrors of death and battle, even though bodies still littered the floor. They too looked peaceful somehow.
"I left because I had to leave..." Morrigan said softly. "Not because I wanted to... I had to take care of our son... I still do. He is too young."
"What of the spirit inside him?" Wolf stopped, looking at her. "I've seen Anders struggle with Justice, and Wynne getting mixed up with Faith, and Cassandra... well... I don't think she's got a spirit inside her now, but she is no regular mortal either... It isn't a small thing to have a spirit in you. How is he holding up?"
"He... has nightmares," Morrigan looked up. "Dreams of a dragon... I am unsure... He is your son, he has your dragon blood and your taint... as well as that spirit... I thought the taint would be neutralised, but what if I was wrong..?"
"In that case the spirit inside him would grow into another Archdemon," Wolf noted. "I should be worried... Alistair thought the whole thing was a dreadful idea..."
"Alistair..." Morrigan started, but Wolf put a finger across her lips.
"Don't. Alistair is not as dumb as he likes to play up."
That touch was all it took, old flames were awakened. Morrigan didn't protest or object... The temple appeared to close in, vines and grass pushing through the stone. The temple was watching them, it seemed... watching over them even. Time itself stood still.
"Will you have another child?" Wolf smiled.
"No, carrying Kieran with that spirit inside him burned that away," she smiled with sadness. "No more children for me."
"Morrigan, when this is all over..." Wolf sat up, but Morrigan shook her head.
"We don't know what will happen then," she said with a frown. "We don't know which sacrifices will still need to be made... what will become of us, assuming that we survive... what will become of Kieran... One way or the other, when he is older, I'll need to free him of that spirit... or lose him. It is just dreams now, while he's but a boy, but he will want to live his life as a man one day... That spirit won't allow it."
"You didn't think you'd care for the child when you asked me for one," Wolf gave her a long look. "Ten years ago."
"No, I did not," Morrigan returned his gaze. "I did not think he'd be anything but an ancient spirit to me, in a boy's body... Oh how I was wrong."
"You don't have to do it alone," Wolf said firmly. "I told you this before, and I'm saying it again... Let me come with you."
"No, I can't..." she shook her head. "I can't... I must not..." she sighed. "After this, you go with Cassandra."
"I am not ready to let go of you yet... not again..."
...
They spent a long time in the temple, it felt like days. They pushed aside the world's problems and focused on each other. They would not have another opportunity like that, they both felt it.
"You must promise me to go back to living your life," Morrigan said quite seriously. "No more waiting... You will return to Tamriel one day, and there you must start over."
"I'll hold off until then, in that case," he grinned.
"Oh, you are insufferable!" She laughed.
Alas, they could not remain in that temple for ever. Eventually it was time to return to the matters at hand, and the thought of their defeat overshadowed feelings of love that they held towards each other.
"I still believe that this eluvian holds the answer," Morrigan touched the inactive glass. "The darkspawn lord came here, to this very chamber. He wasn't just chasing you... He wanted something from here. But what? Did he have the key to this eluvian? But we did not find it..."
"Do you really want to go to the Black City?" Wolf turned to her. "If this is where this eluvian leads... what good will it be? We're mortals, we cannot set foot there... we'd be dead."
"This eluvian does not lead to the Golden City," a voice behind them answered, and they spun around. A tall elf in ancient guilded armour stood there. "This eluvian conducts the wisdom of Mythal."
"Mythal?" Morrigan was eyeing him with great curiosity. "The ancient elven goddess? The protector of the people? But she is dead, along with the other elven gods."
"Yet her wisdom survives," the elf replied. "Who are you? You are intruders in this temple. What do you want here? And why has the temple not struck you down?"
"We are... intruders," Morrigan nodded. "We came here in the hope to slay the darkspawn lord who wishes to destroy the world. You've seen him, no doubt. He... well... I believe he wanted something from here. We tried to stop him."
"And you failed," the elf watched them. "Then you wish nothing from this temple for yourself?"
"We still hope to find a way to stop that darkspawn," Wolf replied. "Beyond that, we wish nothing."
"Well... this temple has so many ancient artefacts..!" Morrigan started.
"Morrigan!" Wolf cut her off quite sternly.
"What? To study and to preserve, not to sell or bargain with!" She objected.
"The temple hasn't struck you down... in fact, it gave you space... I've been watching you," the elf smiled, quite unexpectedly. "Mythal passed her judgement. One of you may partake of her wisdom, but know that it comes with a price. You will be forever bound to her will."
"Such gifts do not come without a price, indeed," Morrigan nodded. "But Mythal is dead. This warning sounds hollow. I wish to partake of the wisdom."
"I am not so sure that Mythal is really dead..." Wolf shook his head. "This could be a terrible bind, Morrigan. Worse than that of your mother."
"But if it helps us to stop that darkspawn..." She looked at Wolf and smiled. "If that wisdom helps... I am willing to take the risk. Mythal is dead."
"Then drink from the well," the elf pointed at the water of the pond at their feet. "This is the Well of Sorrows."
Morrigan gasped - she had clearly heard of such a well before. Then, without further explanations, she stepped into the pond and submerged. When she stood up again, she looked confused, but also enlightened.
"There is so much..." she started saying, but an Archdemon swooped down on them just then. A great big flaming Archdemon!
"Escape!" The elf shouted, pointing at the eluvian. It was active - the waters of the Well of Sorrows had been the key. Morrigan squeezed Wolf's hand and ran towards the eluvian, jumping into it and pulling Wolf after her. The Archdemon could not follow.
They stepped out of the eluvian at Skyhold.
"The eluvian in the elven temple did not lead to the Golden City," Wolf said, looking around. "We are home."
"The wisdom of Mythal brought us here," Morrigan nodded. "I... have ideas what to do next. The Well holds knowledge..."
"But what will stop that darkspawn from drinking from it as well?" Wolf looked worried.
"Oh no, it is just plain water now," Morrigan shook her head. "It only becomes the Well of Sorrows with Mythal's blessing... hmm... or something like that. But anyhow, he won't be able to use it."
"And you think he wanted it because..?" Wolf still wasn't convinced.
"Because he thought it would tell him how to reach the Golden City, perhaps?" Morrigan shrugged. "Perhaps like me, he thought that the eluvian behind the pond would lead him there? Does it matter?" She looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. "We have to prepare. I need to sort through this but... yes, I have ideas... Give me a day or two, then we'll talk..."
She walked away, looking dazed and somewhat absent-minded. Not surprising, considering that her head had just been filled with a thousand years worth of knowledge. She would indeed need a day or two to work through it all.
...
When everything finally appeared to be going to plan, Morrigan's son Kieran disappeared. A maid out of breath ran up to Wolf calling him urgently to the room with the eluvian, and when he got there, she said that Kieran had stepped through and Morrigan went after him... Wolf didn't need asking twice and stepped through the portal too.
The eluvian did not lead to the crossroads or to the elven temple; instead Wolf stood among wet rocks of the Fade. He called after Morrigan, ran around a bit and soon found her looking lost and frightened.
"Kieran ran into the eluvian," she said through tears. "I do not understand... He's never done such a thing... He is such a serious, studious boy... Oh... What am I going to do..?"
"First of all you calm down, I am here for you," Wolf hugged her. "Now, we'll look for Kieran together. If I am finally allowed to meet my son..."
Morrigan smiled and nodded, her usual wit and sarcasm cast aside as a mask.
"How is it possible that this eluvian changed destination?" Wolf asked in an attempt to get Morrigan's mind away from imagining the worst possible scenarios for Kieran. "I thought they were locked in."
"And so did I," Morrigan shrugged. "But obviously it isn't the case... No one knows for sure how eluvians work. We only have fragments of information..."
They walked through the Fade, but Kieran was no where to be found.
"He's just a boy, you know... my son..." Morrigan started sobbing again.
"I think the spirit inside him led him here, I think this is why he could activate the eluvian," Wolf pointed out. "But wait... I hear voices!"
They came to a clearing and found Flemeth and Kieran talking. It was clearly Flemeth, but dressed in armour, and with horns like a dragon... "She is a dragon," Wolf reminded himself.
"Mother!!!" Morrigan ran up to them. "You kidnapped my son!!!" She shot a spell at her.
"I did no such thing, girl," with a wave of her hand Flemeth cancelled the spell. "We were expecting you. Aren't you going to introduce Kieran? I think it is time."
"How dare you!!!" Morrigan was furious.
"Do it, or I will." Flemeth remained calm, she knew her daughter well.
Morrigan took a moment to compose herself, then spoke in a much calmer tone.
"Kieran... this is the Warden I told you about..." She walked over to Kieran. "This is your father."
"I knew it," Kieran nodded and smiled. "The moment I saw you, I knew it. But mother didn't want us to meet..." He shot a glance at Morrigan.
"Morrigan has strange ideas about family," Flemeth smirked. "I suppose it is my fault."
Wolf walked over to Kieran and sat on a rock.
"A Grey Warden breastplate," he noticed a griffin crest that Kieran wore around his neck. "I am sorry I wasn't there for you all these years, son."
"You couldn't..." Morrigan said softly. "It could not be done... You had duties... And besides, I was afraid..."
"You - afraid?" Wolf looked up. "Of what?"
"Of darkspawn corruption," she said in a near whisper. "Kieran's spirit... the spirit inside him... had to remain pure..."
"And I carry the taint..." Wolf nodded and sighed. "I understand it now."
"I can sense your taint," Kieran said and touched his face. "I can sense the taint in all Grey Wardens at Skyhold... Am I in danger?" He looked at Morrigan who became visibly worried.
"Would you like me to take that spirit away?" Flemeth asked him.
"What..? How..?" Morrigan stumbled.
"There was once a young woman wronged by a wicked man, it is all true. I met her crying her eyes out. We talked and she allowed me in. My first host. There were many young women after her, lending me their bodies. I am Mythal." Flemeth smiled. "Or rather, what's left of her."
"Mythal..." Morrigan mouthed the name almost without a sound. "I spent my days seeking out ancient artefacts, unravelling their mysteries... But the greatest mystery of all has always been right before me... my own mother..."
"The very same!" Flemeth smiled. "But you were never in danger from me, my daughter. I could never touch an unwilling spirit like yours."
"And that is why you didn't kill her when I asked you to," Morrigan looked at Wolf. "You knew."
"Flemeth told me you were in no danger and I believed her," Wolf nodded.
"What now, grandmother?" Kieran turned to Flemeth. "Can you make the dreams go away? I don't want them."
"I can take that spirit away, indeed," Flemeth nodded. "But Morrigan will forever remain bound to my will. Or I can take the boy with me, and you will be free from me forever, my daughter. You choose." She looked at Morrigan with a question.
"Mythal..." Morrigan was still stunned by the discovery. "No, no, Kieran must be free. I... I submit to your will."
Flemeth waved her hand and a silvery wisp escaped from under Kieran's Grey Warden breastplate and entered Flemeth's body.
"No more dreams, child," she smiled. "Go with your mother."
Flemeth vanished. Kieran ran to Morrigan and she hugged him, crying.
"Will you let me stay with you now?" Wolf touched her shoulder. "My taint is no longer a threat to our son."
"But my bond to Mythal is!" Morrigan exclaimed. "No, I cannot drag you down that path with me! She won't touch Kieran, I am certain, but you will never be safe! Please... Mythal is not a benevolent goddess!"
"Mythal the Protector..?" Wolf didn't understand. "All-Mother? Not a benevolent goddess?"
"People fear her too," Morrigan nodded. "There are legends... She knows no mercy. She is Justice, in a way."
"And mercy is not just," Wolf sighed. "And you think that my presence..."
"Anyone's presence," Morrigan corrected him. "Anyone at my side... except Kieran... is in danger. We... we've had our time," she smiled. "Now we must walk our separate paths. I shall help you defeat your darkspawn nemesis... I now have the means, more than you know. But after that I shall leave. And Kieran..."
"Take care of your mother, won't you," Wolf spoke to him and Kieran nodded, hugging her around the middle.
"I see you in him, my friend," Morrigan said through tears as Wolf kissed her one last time. "He's got your eyes."
"Please stay with me here," Morrigan spoke quietly to Wolf when most people wandered off, unsure what to do next. "I... am sorry. For everything... You're right, I don't have all the answers. And we haven't talked since I arrived... I was hoping to talk after it's all over, but it doesn't look like it'll be finished any time soon."
"You've always played your cards close to your chest," Wolf smirked. "I know. I just... this battle... and that darkspawn lord rising again... I admit, I don't see a way forward."
"'Tis not plain," Morrigan nodded. "But I do have thoughts... Only I don't want to bring them all out, for all to see... Send everyone home. We can always use the eluvian at Skyhold to come here, should you wish to collect the dead... Then stay here with me, I do believe this temple has what we need... I cannot explain why I believe it."
Wolf nodded. Whatever Morrigan was thinking, it was better than nothing at all.
"Cassandra..." Wolf approached her, but she shook her head.
"We'll talk later. When... you'll have made up your mind." She smiled and walked away with the others. Wolf and Morrigan were alone in the ancient elven temple with a pond in front of an inactive eluvian.
"I've seen your son," Wolf said, trying to sound neutral. "In the garden. He said hello to me but he does not know who I am."
"Our son," Morrigan smiled. "He knows that his father is a Grey Warden, and that he is alive. He knows that Grey Wardens have duties, that they must give up their families and peaceful life. His father is away as his duty commands... Is this not true?"
"His father would have liked to keep in touch if his mother hadn't prevented him," Wolf looked at her with scorn. "I bet you omitted that little fact."
"It is better that he does not know... the whole truth... as yet," Morrigan smiled. "He is but a boy."
"Why have you been staying away? I..." Wolf looked at her and sighed. "Well, yes... I loved you... Perhaps still do..."
"Then what of Cassandra?" Morrigan's voice sounded detached, betraying no emotion.
"It's been ten years, Morrigan... I never thought to see you again... I've waited... And yes, I shall leave Thedas one day, so why start another bond?" He smirked. "But life is a messy affair, is it not? Cassandra is a remarkable woman, and... well... it's good while it lasts. But it won't last, not with her. Like you, she is driven. Once the novelty of a love affair will have worn off, she'll want to return to her duties... and I won't fit into the saddle bags."
"That is not a very flattering opinion of her," Morrigan gave a short laugh. "Or of me, for that matter."
"But that's what you two have in common," Wolf smiled. "May be that's what I like in a woman..."
"That we don't stick around?"
"That you have your own life to live."
They were strolling through the elven ruin that lay silent around them. It was peaceful. The air seemed to have cleansed itself of the horrors of death and battle, even though bodies still littered the floor. They too looked peaceful somehow.
"I left because I had to leave..." Morrigan said softly. "Not because I wanted to... I had to take care of our son... I still do. He is too young."
"What of the spirit inside him?" Wolf stopped, looking at her. "I've seen Anders struggle with Justice, and Wynne getting mixed up with Faith, and Cassandra... well... I don't think she's got a spirit inside her now, but she is no regular mortal either... It isn't a small thing to have a spirit in you. How is he holding up?"
"He... has nightmares," Morrigan looked up. "Dreams of a dragon... I am unsure... He is your son, he has your dragon blood and your taint... as well as that spirit... I thought the taint would be neutralised, but what if I was wrong..?"
"In that case the spirit inside him would grow into another Archdemon," Wolf noted. "I should be worried... Alistair thought the whole thing was a dreadful idea..."
"Alistair..." Morrigan started, but Wolf put a finger across her lips.
"Don't. Alistair is not as dumb as he likes to play up."
That touch was all it took, old flames were awakened. Morrigan didn't protest or object... The temple appeared to close in, vines and grass pushing through the stone. The temple was watching them, it seemed... watching over them even. Time itself stood still.
"Will you have another child?" Wolf smiled.
"No, carrying Kieran with that spirit inside him burned that away," she smiled with sadness. "No more children for me."
"Morrigan, when this is all over..." Wolf sat up, but Morrigan shook her head.
"We don't know what will happen then," she said with a frown. "We don't know which sacrifices will still need to be made... what will become of us, assuming that we survive... what will become of Kieran... One way or the other, when he is older, I'll need to free him of that spirit... or lose him. It is just dreams now, while he's but a boy, but he will want to live his life as a man one day... That spirit won't allow it."
"You didn't think you'd care for the child when you asked me for one," Wolf gave her a long look. "Ten years ago."
"No, I did not," Morrigan returned his gaze. "I did not think he'd be anything but an ancient spirit to me, in a boy's body... Oh how I was wrong."
"You don't have to do it alone," Wolf said firmly. "I told you this before, and I'm saying it again... Let me come with you."
"No, I can't..." she shook her head. "I can't... I must not..." she sighed. "After this, you go with Cassandra."
"I am not ready to let go of you yet... not again..."
...
They spent a long time in the temple, it felt like days. They pushed aside the world's problems and focused on each other. They would not have another opportunity like that, they both felt it.
"You must promise me to go back to living your life," Morrigan said quite seriously. "No more waiting... You will return to Tamriel one day, and there you must start over."
"I'll hold off until then, in that case," he grinned.
"Oh, you are insufferable!" She laughed.
Alas, they could not remain in that temple for ever. Eventually it was time to return to the matters at hand, and the thought of their defeat overshadowed feelings of love that they held towards each other.
"I still believe that this eluvian holds the answer," Morrigan touched the inactive glass. "The darkspawn lord came here, to this very chamber. He wasn't just chasing you... He wanted something from here. But what? Did he have the key to this eluvian? But we did not find it..."
"Do you really want to go to the Black City?" Wolf turned to her. "If this is where this eluvian leads... what good will it be? We're mortals, we cannot set foot there... we'd be dead."
"This eluvian does not lead to the Golden City," a voice behind them answered, and they spun around. A tall elf in ancient guilded armour stood there. "This eluvian conducts the wisdom of Mythal."
"Mythal?" Morrigan was eyeing him with great curiosity. "The ancient elven goddess? The protector of the people? But she is dead, along with the other elven gods."
"Yet her wisdom survives," the elf replied. "Who are you? You are intruders in this temple. What do you want here? And why has the temple not struck you down?"
"We are... intruders," Morrigan nodded. "We came here in the hope to slay the darkspawn lord who wishes to destroy the world. You've seen him, no doubt. He... well... I believe he wanted something from here. We tried to stop him."
"And you failed," the elf watched them. "Then you wish nothing from this temple for yourself?"
"We still hope to find a way to stop that darkspawn," Wolf replied. "Beyond that, we wish nothing."
"Well... this temple has so many ancient artefacts..!" Morrigan started.
"Morrigan!" Wolf cut her off quite sternly.
"What? To study and to preserve, not to sell or bargain with!" She objected.
"The temple hasn't struck you down... in fact, it gave you space... I've been watching you," the elf smiled, quite unexpectedly. "Mythal passed her judgement. One of you may partake of her wisdom, but know that it comes with a price. You will be forever bound to her will."
"Such gifts do not come without a price, indeed," Morrigan nodded. "But Mythal is dead. This warning sounds hollow. I wish to partake of the wisdom."
"I am not so sure that Mythal is really dead..." Wolf shook his head. "This could be a terrible bind, Morrigan. Worse than that of your mother."
"But if it helps us to stop that darkspawn..." She looked at Wolf and smiled. "If that wisdom helps... I am willing to take the risk. Mythal is dead."
"Then drink from the well," the elf pointed at the water of the pond at their feet. "This is the Well of Sorrows."
Morrigan gasped - she had clearly heard of such a well before. Then, without further explanations, she stepped into the pond and submerged. When she stood up again, she looked confused, but also enlightened.
"There is so much..." she started saying, but an Archdemon swooped down on them just then. A great big flaming Archdemon!
"Escape!" The elf shouted, pointing at the eluvian. It was active - the waters of the Well of Sorrows had been the key. Morrigan squeezed Wolf's hand and ran towards the eluvian, jumping into it and pulling Wolf after her. The Archdemon could not follow.
They stepped out of the eluvian at Skyhold.
"The eluvian in the elven temple did not lead to the Golden City," Wolf said, looking around. "We are home."
"The wisdom of Mythal brought us here," Morrigan nodded. "I... have ideas what to do next. The Well holds knowledge..."
"But what will stop that darkspawn from drinking from it as well?" Wolf looked worried.
"Oh no, it is just plain water now," Morrigan shook her head. "It only becomes the Well of Sorrows with Mythal's blessing... hmm... or something like that. But anyhow, he won't be able to use it."
"And you think he wanted it because..?" Wolf still wasn't convinced.
"Because he thought it would tell him how to reach the Golden City, perhaps?" Morrigan shrugged. "Perhaps like me, he thought that the eluvian behind the pond would lead him there? Does it matter?" She looked around, as if seeing the room for the first time. "We have to prepare. I need to sort through this but... yes, I have ideas... Give me a day or two, then we'll talk..."
She walked away, looking dazed and somewhat absent-minded. Not surprising, considering that her head had just been filled with a thousand years worth of knowledge. She would indeed need a day or two to work through it all.
...
When everything finally appeared to be going to plan, Morrigan's son Kieran disappeared. A maid out of breath ran up to Wolf calling him urgently to the room with the eluvian, and when he got there, she said that Kieran had stepped through and Morrigan went after him... Wolf didn't need asking twice and stepped through the portal too.
The eluvian did not lead to the crossroads or to the elven temple; instead Wolf stood among wet rocks of the Fade. He called after Morrigan, ran around a bit and soon found her looking lost and frightened.
"Kieran ran into the eluvian," she said through tears. "I do not understand... He's never done such a thing... He is such a serious, studious boy... Oh... What am I going to do..?"
"First of all you calm down, I am here for you," Wolf hugged her. "Now, we'll look for Kieran together. If I am finally allowed to meet my son..."
Morrigan smiled and nodded, her usual wit and sarcasm cast aside as a mask.
"How is it possible that this eluvian changed destination?" Wolf asked in an attempt to get Morrigan's mind away from imagining the worst possible scenarios for Kieran. "I thought they were locked in."
"And so did I," Morrigan shrugged. "But obviously it isn't the case... No one knows for sure how eluvians work. We only have fragments of information..."
They walked through the Fade, but Kieran was no where to be found.
"He's just a boy, you know... my son..." Morrigan started sobbing again.
"I think the spirit inside him led him here, I think this is why he could activate the eluvian," Wolf pointed out. "But wait... I hear voices!"
They came to a clearing and found Flemeth and Kieran talking. It was clearly Flemeth, but dressed in armour, and with horns like a dragon... "She is a dragon," Wolf reminded himself.
"Mother!!!" Morrigan ran up to them. "You kidnapped my son!!!" She shot a spell at her.
"I did no such thing, girl," with a wave of her hand Flemeth cancelled the spell. "We were expecting you. Aren't you going to introduce Kieran? I think it is time."
"How dare you!!!" Morrigan was furious.
"Do it, or I will." Flemeth remained calm, she knew her daughter well.
Morrigan took a moment to compose herself, then spoke in a much calmer tone.
"Kieran... this is the Warden I told you about..." She walked over to Kieran. "This is your father."
"I knew it," Kieran nodded and smiled. "The moment I saw you, I knew it. But mother didn't want us to meet..." He shot a glance at Morrigan.
"Morrigan has strange ideas about family," Flemeth smirked. "I suppose it is my fault."
Wolf walked over to Kieran and sat on a rock.
"A Grey Warden breastplate," he noticed a griffin crest that Kieran wore around his neck. "I am sorry I wasn't there for you all these years, son."
"You couldn't..." Morrigan said softly. "It could not be done... You had duties... And besides, I was afraid..."
"You - afraid?" Wolf looked up. "Of what?"
"Of darkspawn corruption," she said in a near whisper. "Kieran's spirit... the spirit inside him... had to remain pure..."
"And I carry the taint..." Wolf nodded and sighed. "I understand it now."
"I can sense your taint," Kieran said and touched his face. "I can sense the taint in all Grey Wardens at Skyhold... Am I in danger?" He looked at Morrigan who became visibly worried.
"Would you like me to take that spirit away?" Flemeth asked him.
"What..? How..?" Morrigan stumbled.
"There was once a young woman wronged by a wicked man, it is all true. I met her crying her eyes out. We talked and she allowed me in. My first host. There were many young women after her, lending me their bodies. I am Mythal." Flemeth smiled. "Or rather, what's left of her."
"Mythal..." Morrigan mouthed the name almost without a sound. "I spent my days seeking out ancient artefacts, unravelling their mysteries... But the greatest mystery of all has always been right before me... my own mother..."
"The very same!" Flemeth smiled. "But you were never in danger from me, my daughter. I could never touch an unwilling spirit like yours."
"And that is why you didn't kill her when I asked you to," Morrigan looked at Wolf. "You knew."
"Flemeth told me you were in no danger and I believed her," Wolf nodded.
"What now, grandmother?" Kieran turned to Flemeth. "Can you make the dreams go away? I don't want them."
"I can take that spirit away, indeed," Flemeth nodded. "But Morrigan will forever remain bound to my will. Or I can take the boy with me, and you will be free from me forever, my daughter. You choose." She looked at Morrigan with a question.
"Mythal..." Morrigan was still stunned by the discovery. "No, no, Kieran must be free. I... I submit to your will."
Flemeth waved her hand and a silvery wisp escaped from under Kieran's Grey Warden breastplate and entered Flemeth's body.
"No more dreams, child," she smiled. "Go with your mother."
Flemeth vanished. Kieran ran to Morrigan and she hugged him, crying.
"Will you let me stay with you now?" Wolf touched her shoulder. "My taint is no longer a threat to our son."
"But my bond to Mythal is!" Morrigan exclaimed. "No, I cannot drag you down that path with me! She won't touch Kieran, I am certain, but you will never be safe! Please... Mythal is not a benevolent goddess!"
"Mythal the Protector..?" Wolf didn't understand. "All-Mother? Not a benevolent goddess?"
"People fear her too," Morrigan nodded. "There are legends... She knows no mercy. She is Justice, in a way."
"And mercy is not just," Wolf sighed. "And you think that my presence..."
"Anyone's presence," Morrigan corrected him. "Anyone at my side... except Kieran... is in danger. We... we've had our time," she smiled. "Now we must walk our separate paths. I shall help you defeat your darkspawn nemesis... I now have the means, more than you know. But after that I shall leave. And Kieran..."
"Take care of your mother, won't you," Wolf spoke to him and Kieran nodded, hugging her around the middle.
"I see you in him, my friend," Morrigan said through tears as Wolf kissed her one last time. "He's got your eyes."
Sun's Dawn, 3E399 - Breaking the rules
Wolf, Morrigan and Kieran stepped out of the eluvian at Skyhold. The room was empty and the door was closed. They would walk to the door, open it and walk out of the room separated, following their own paths. That was what Morrigan asked of Wolf, and that was what he promised.
"I cannot do it," he turned to her, taking her in his embrace. "I know I promised, but I cannot do it. Let's not debate this..." He kissed her. He expected protests, objections, retaliation even... but none followed.
"'Tis not what I wanted..." was all she said. "But don't you see... I stayed away for too long. You made a new bond. And what will you do when your Legion calls you back? You know I won't be able to follow. Mythal won't let me."
"You worry too much," Wolf shook his head. "Let it go. I am staying with you... or you with me... whichever."
...
"I always knew you were not from the Free Marches, but I guess I never bothered to ask for the details," Cassandra took another sip of her wine. They were sitting in Wolf's quarters, one of the few sections of Skyhold with some privacy. Wolf told her everything about himself, how he came to Thedas, how he became a Grey Warden and fought the Blight, how he survived the Archdemon and what they were doing at the conclave in Haven when he got that mark on his hand. He told her about Kieran and Flemeth, too. "Had I known... oh... what was I thinking..?"
"About what?" After so much talk Wolf could not decide which part of his story caused most upset.
"About you... about us... about me allowing myself to... ugh..."
"To what?" Wolf refilled her glass. "I did not lie about my feeling towards you. I still think you are a remarkable woman worthy every ounce of romance... And I still feel the same."
"I am upset with myself for failing in my duties, not for the time we had together," Cassandra smiled. "That was wonderful... it still is, aren't we friends?"
"Always will be."
"I am too old to have children, I am too old for marriage or family life... I am too set in my ways, too... I am a Seeker of Truth, and my Order is in shambles. What would you do in my place?"
"What I will do once we're done saving the world: return to my duties. My Order is in shambles too."
"The Grey Wardens."
"None other."
"And then? When will you go back to Tamriel?" Cassandra was not taking her eyes off Wolf, seeing him for the first time for what he really was rather than what she longed him to be - a prisoner at first, a guilty party, and then a humble noble from the Free Marches who'd follow her where her duty would take her... But Wolf was a Grey Warden, a Warden-Commander with duties of his own. He was also an Agent of the Imperial Legion of a far away land... to which he would return one day... at least that was the plan. In either role he did not fit in her saddle bags.
"I will return to Tamriel when I am recalled," Wolf shrugged. "I don't know when that will be. It could be years still... It will likely be years. All I am hearing now is orders to maintain position. Stay here until further notice. We've slain the Archdemon and we'll defeat this darkspawn lord the same as we've defeated his predecessors, but the Blight doesn't end there. You don't have to be a Grey Warden to sense it."
Cassandra nodded.
"There's work to be done... much work."
The truth of the matter was that none of them was that young anymore. Wolf turned fifty, Cassandra was in her late forties, Cullen, Morrigan, Anders, Alistair, who were in their twenties during the Blight, were now in their mid to late thirties, with life experience worth several lifetimes over... It had been a long and bloody war.
"Leliana will likely become the next Divine," Cassandra turned the conversation to politics. "She will free the mages and rule with a dagger at everyone's backs."
"I am not sure whether this world is ready for free mages..." Wolf squinted. "When I first came here, I was appalled at Circle Towers and the treatment of mages. Locking them up as prisoners is definitely not the way. But I have since seen so many demons, that I am now concerned about the other side of the coin. We don't get demons in Tamriel... at least not in such numbers."
"The Veil must be strong over your world," Cassandra nodded. "And is it true that you believe that everyone has magic?"
"It's true, but not everyone has the same measure of talent," Wolf smiled. "Most people can't do much at all. I can barely cast a simple healing spell despite all the training that our battlemages bestowed upon us... I am not a mage."
They talked a while longer. They had a lot in common, yet clearly each had a different path to walk.
...
"We shall be ready to face the darkspawn lord with his dragon whenever he appears," Morrigan said in her usual self-assured tone during a war council meeting. She was now a permanent member. "The Well of Sorrows granted me knowledge and physical means to neutralise the dragon. You will only need to kill the lord himself." She looked at everyone around the table in turn. "It won't be easy, but it halves the job. They both have to be killed independently, they share a single soul."
"Meaning what exactly?" Cassandra squinted. She disliked demonology.
"Meaning that the dragon does not have a soul of its own, it has no spirit," Morrigan explained. "It is a vessel for the lord's soul, a second body if you will. If you only kill one, his spirit will continue living in the other."
"Plus, he can be reborn in any darkspawn or in any Grey Warden," Cullen noted darkly.
"Not in any Grey Warden," Morrigan smiled. "They have to be under his control. It's blood magic, but it cannot be performed mid-battle. This has to be prepared. What he can do however is disrupt Grey Wardens through their taint... But even there, I believe they're learning to resist him."
"It doesn't matter, we are not taking Grey Wardens with us," Leliana cut her off.
"Your Lord Inquisitor is a Grey Warden." Morrigan looked at her and smirked. "He may wish to bring a few friends."
"You are coming - that's more than enough!" Leliana hissed.
"Hey, I'm standing right here!" Wolf finally intervened. "We shall bring the best of our forces, and that includes some Grey Wardens. As well as some mages, templars, warriors, archers and scouts. The rest will be in reserve. We don't even know where the fight will be! Or when!"
"So what - we just sit and wait for it?!" Cullen retorted with anger.
"We don't have any choice," Wolf nodded, sounding grave. "Cullen will command our combined forces. I shall take a small group to take point. As always. Cassandra and Morrigan - with me. Fiona will lead the mages... No, scratch that. Solas will lead the mages."
"You don't trust Fiona," Cullen looked up.
"Not a jot," Wolf shook his head. "I would leave her behind altogether, if only I could." He paused and sighed. "Cullen will handle the rest."
He shook his head and turned to go. Waiting was the hardest part of all.
"Dismissed." Josephine said and everyone turned around. "You forgot to say 'dismissed', Lord Inquisitor," she smiled. "Your forces await your command."
...
"I don't know how long we have to wait," Wolf was contemplating the mead in his mug. "I can't even get drunk in case that bastard attacks while I'm out cold!"
"We have means of waking up drunken recruits," Anders laughed between hiccups. "Worry not my friend, you won't miss the party!"
Wolf was spending most of his time with the Grey Wardens. In all fairness, he didn't have much to do, and waiting was unnerving. He made daily rounds of the troops, speaking to each group to keep up the morale, but he no longer was masking his colours. He was a Grey Warden and he was leading the fight against darkspawn, as was his duty. The Chantry wasn't happy with that, but there were no clerics going into battle.
Yet they didn't have to wait long. Barely a week passed since the last war council meeting when Wolf woke up with a distinct feeling that an attack was very close. Morrigan woke up too.
"Do you feel it?" He sat up. "He is gathering strength. The same feeling like before the Archdemon's attack. It will be another day or two, no more."
"I do not feel it, I am not a Grey Warden," Morrigan smiled. "But if so..."
"Kieran."
"What if..."
"...we fall." Wolf nodded. "I know. Grey Wardens can raise him, we have the means. Unless you prefer mages?"
"Grey Wardens," Morrigan nodded. "Assuming at least some of you survive..."
When Wolf finally got dressed and stepped into the courtyard, he found the entire contingent of Grey Wardens sober and ready for battle. Everyone had had the same dream.
"It's today," Wolf decided. "Tell Cullen."
Still, they didn't know what exactly was going to happen. Some speculated that an army of demons would attack Skyhold; others expected an army of darkspawn; yet others predicted dragons. But none of that occurred. Instead a world-shattering explosion was heard some distance away, and a new gaping hole in the sky was opened, much larger than the one they worked so hard to seal. Fade itself was pouring into the mountains, huge chunks of rock suspended in the air. The darkspawn lord once again blew up Haven.
...
Cullen was in his element. All the preparations now paid off - his troops were ready to march. Warriors, archers, mages, Grey Wardens, templars - everyone was there. They didn't have far to go either, all those portals and shortcuts they'd built, they were all paying off.
"I would have thought he'd be more creative," Varric joked along the way. "But no - he went for the very same place! Blew up the same Chantry in Haven as the first time! Why, blowing up Chantries is becoming a national pastime!"
"There is a reason for it though," Solas joined in on a much more serious note. "He was building a complex ritual when Wolf interrupted him the first time around. All the trappings of that are still in place... no, we could not remove them. He is clearly using them again, but now his ritual is changed... Pray that it takes a long time to prepare!"
Everyone focused on the march, there was little conversation. Solas caught up with Wolf when they were out of earshot of the others.
"Why did you want me to lead the mages?" He asked. "Not why not Fiona... I can see that. But why me? We have not been on the best terms recently."
"I trust you to fight for us," Wolf shot him a glance. "Whatever reservations I might have about you, they are not about this fight. And I cannot say the same about Fiona."
"You have reservations about me? Really?" Solas smiled.
"It's always the quiet ones that you have to watch," Wolf smirked. "You are many centuries old, Solas. We are toddlers compared to you. You have your own agenda, and I cannot even guess what it is. But I can see that defeating this darkspawn is a part of your plan, and so I am grateful to have you with us now."
"Toddlers... You humble me. I think I needed that," Solas smiled. "You are right. This darkspawn must die, our goals are in perfect agreement on that. And what comes after... is a worry for another day."
...
The battle was grand. Morrigan turned into a dragon and engaged the false Archdemon of the darkspawn lord. The rest of them battled demons, darkspawn and whatever else the lord pulled out of the Fade. It was complete chaos. No one could tell what was going on or when it would be finished.
But finish it did. Wolf knew that he could not kill that lord even at the cost of his own life. He didn't have a plan but he did have knowledge - pieces of information that Morrigan conveyed to him after she drank from the Well of Sorrows. The thing that gave Wolf a mark on his hand was an elven sphere. It had the power to tear down the Veil, but that power had now been split between the sphere and the mark. It was no longer enough. It appeared that tearing down the Veil was what the lord wanted, however it still remained unclear why. Regardless, tearing down the Veil would destroy the world, and Wolf could not allow it. The lord had that sphere with him, he drew power from it, and so when he was finally defeated, when he lay on the ground, Wolf did not strike the final blow. Instead, he picked up the sphere and flung it into the hole in the sky.
The breach closed. The darkspawn lord and his dragon were dead and not reborn. The sphere fell back to the ground, shattered. Yet the mark on Wolf's hand remained, burning as bright as ever, sending searing pain through his entire body.
He dropped to his knees trying to control the pain. Morrigan lay in a pool of blood, back in her human form and much the worse for wear. They won, but at what cost?
"The sphere is broken," Solas knelt over it. "It was all for naught..."
"What..?" Wolf could barely speak through pain.
"This is what I hoped to recover..." Solas turned to him. "It was too much to hope for though. I should have been honest with myself. It was all a grand plan that went terribly wrong..."
"What was..?" Wolf tried to rise but he was all but paralysed by the pain.
"You've met Mythal, did she not tell you?" Solas looked at him.
"She just said... The Blight was only the beginning..."
"The Blight is over, has been for ten years now."
"The Blight is not over," Wolf shook his head. "The threat to this world still exists... I know... I am a Grey Warden."
"Grey Wardens were always going to be trouble," Solas frowned. "Ever since they drank Archdemon's blood... And you with your dragon blood are more trouble still. But I shall relieve your pain." Solas waved his hand and the glow in Wolf's hand went out. "You were right to doubt me. When you touched my sphere, you became bound to my will... I am Fen'Herel, the Dread Wolf."
"An elven god like Mythal..." Wolf breathed out, the pain vanishing as the mark stopped glowing.
"Indeed, here in the body of Solas," he bowed slightly. "Only I don't need to change bodies. Mythal was killed, her spirit fractured, only her essence survived. I am whole, however. This body is now my own. Solas is long dead. I walk in the Fade as well as in Mundus. I aim to raise the elves out of slavery and oppression and rebuild the world the way it was before humans existed. And to that end I have to destroy it first. That sphere... was meant for that. To tear down the Veil. Now I shall have to start again... Your mark serves no further purpose, and so I removed it. But your will remains bound to me. In your world you know me by the name of Hircine..."
"The Prince of the Hunt," Wolf nodded. "I didn't know you were an elf."
"Solas was an elf," Fen'Herel corrected him. "The statues of Hircine in Tamriel are... somewhat exaggerated," he chuckled. "But I do like the horns. Yet isn't it strange that the Master of Wolves should look like a stag..?"
...
Skyhold was filled with guests. People fought for the invitations. Celebrations of the great victory were lavish, the Inquisition grew rich and powerful. Wolf couldn't wait to get out.
"Lady Morrigan regretfully cannot attend," Josephine repeated the same phrase to yet another guest. "Yes, she is alive but her wounds were too great."
"You can change it to 'Lady Morrigan and Lord Trevelyan'", Wolf said to her apologetically. "I am sorry but all the noise is giving me a tremendous headache..."
"Well, it is not what I wanted to hear, but I understand..." Josephine sighed. "You can slip away through the kitchens."
He did. Leaving the party behind, he made his way into the guest room where Morrigan and Kieran were staying and where he'd been sleeping since they came out of the eluvian. He found Morrigan just sitting there, Kieran on her lap, asleep.
"Time for bed, I think," Wolf helped her move the sleepy boy to his bed. "We are both alive. The rest can wait till tomorrow. I told Josephine I had a headache - I didn't lie."
"Let's lock the door," Morrigan threw on a bolt. "I... I am uneasy."
"Not surprising," Wolf smiled. "Dragons are not just beasts... Besides, your dragon form looked exactly like your mother's."
"Well... I guess you are right..." Morrigan sighed. "I'll get used to it, I suppose..."
"When we leave here, we should go to Soldier's Peak," Wolf grew somber. "I want to make arrangements for Kieran. He will likely be a mage, Avernus can teach him. The Drydens will take him in, should we both... be indisposed. This cannot wait."
"What happened?" Morrigan sat up.
"Solas is Fen'Herel, the Dread Wolf. The sphere and the mark were his. I touched it; my will is bound to him the same as yours is bound to Mythal."
"I am sorry," Morrigan's voice fell. "I... The Well warned me of him but I did not make the connection..."
"That he was Solas? Don't worry, it would not have changed a thing."
They did not talk for much longer, there was not much to say. They fell asleep in a close embrace. Peace was ephemeral, but at least they had each other.
Wolf, Morrigan and Kieran stepped out of the eluvian at Skyhold. The room was empty and the door was closed. They would walk to the door, open it and walk out of the room separated, following their own paths. That was what Morrigan asked of Wolf, and that was what he promised.
"I cannot do it," he turned to her, taking her in his embrace. "I know I promised, but I cannot do it. Let's not debate this..." He kissed her. He expected protests, objections, retaliation even... but none followed.
"'Tis not what I wanted..." was all she said. "But don't you see... I stayed away for too long. You made a new bond. And what will you do when your Legion calls you back? You know I won't be able to follow. Mythal won't let me."
"You worry too much," Wolf shook his head. "Let it go. I am staying with you... or you with me... whichever."
...
"I always knew you were not from the Free Marches, but I guess I never bothered to ask for the details," Cassandra took another sip of her wine. They were sitting in Wolf's quarters, one of the few sections of Skyhold with some privacy. Wolf told her everything about himself, how he came to Thedas, how he became a Grey Warden and fought the Blight, how he survived the Archdemon and what they were doing at the conclave in Haven when he got that mark on his hand. He told her about Kieran and Flemeth, too. "Had I known... oh... what was I thinking..?"
"About what?" After so much talk Wolf could not decide which part of his story caused most upset.
"About you... about us... about me allowing myself to... ugh..."
"To what?" Wolf refilled her glass. "I did not lie about my feeling towards you. I still think you are a remarkable woman worthy every ounce of romance... And I still feel the same."
"I am upset with myself for failing in my duties, not for the time we had together," Cassandra smiled. "That was wonderful... it still is, aren't we friends?"
"Always will be."
"I am too old to have children, I am too old for marriage or family life... I am too set in my ways, too... I am a Seeker of Truth, and my Order is in shambles. What would you do in my place?"
"What I will do once we're done saving the world: return to my duties. My Order is in shambles too."
"The Grey Wardens."
"None other."
"And then? When will you go back to Tamriel?" Cassandra was not taking her eyes off Wolf, seeing him for the first time for what he really was rather than what she longed him to be - a prisoner at first, a guilty party, and then a humble noble from the Free Marches who'd follow her where her duty would take her... But Wolf was a Grey Warden, a Warden-Commander with duties of his own. He was also an Agent of the Imperial Legion of a far away land... to which he would return one day... at least that was the plan. In either role he did not fit in her saddle bags.
"I will return to Tamriel when I am recalled," Wolf shrugged. "I don't know when that will be. It could be years still... It will likely be years. All I am hearing now is orders to maintain position. Stay here until further notice. We've slain the Archdemon and we'll defeat this darkspawn lord the same as we've defeated his predecessors, but the Blight doesn't end there. You don't have to be a Grey Warden to sense it."
Cassandra nodded.
"There's work to be done... much work."
The truth of the matter was that none of them was that young anymore. Wolf turned fifty, Cassandra was in her late forties, Cullen, Morrigan, Anders, Alistair, who were in their twenties during the Blight, were now in their mid to late thirties, with life experience worth several lifetimes over... It had been a long and bloody war.
"Leliana will likely become the next Divine," Cassandra turned the conversation to politics. "She will free the mages and rule with a dagger at everyone's backs."
"I am not sure whether this world is ready for free mages..." Wolf squinted. "When I first came here, I was appalled at Circle Towers and the treatment of mages. Locking them up as prisoners is definitely not the way. But I have since seen so many demons, that I am now concerned about the other side of the coin. We don't get demons in Tamriel... at least not in such numbers."
"The Veil must be strong over your world," Cassandra nodded. "And is it true that you believe that everyone has magic?"
"It's true, but not everyone has the same measure of talent," Wolf smiled. "Most people can't do much at all. I can barely cast a simple healing spell despite all the training that our battlemages bestowed upon us... I am not a mage."
They talked a while longer. They had a lot in common, yet clearly each had a different path to walk.
...
"We shall be ready to face the darkspawn lord with his dragon whenever he appears," Morrigan said in her usual self-assured tone during a war council meeting. She was now a permanent member. "The Well of Sorrows granted me knowledge and physical means to neutralise the dragon. You will only need to kill the lord himself." She looked at everyone around the table in turn. "It won't be easy, but it halves the job. They both have to be killed independently, they share a single soul."
"Meaning what exactly?" Cassandra squinted. She disliked demonology.
"Meaning that the dragon does not have a soul of its own, it has no spirit," Morrigan explained. "It is a vessel for the lord's soul, a second body if you will. If you only kill one, his spirit will continue living in the other."
"Plus, he can be reborn in any darkspawn or in any Grey Warden," Cullen noted darkly.
"Not in any Grey Warden," Morrigan smiled. "They have to be under his control. It's blood magic, but it cannot be performed mid-battle. This has to be prepared. What he can do however is disrupt Grey Wardens through their taint... But even there, I believe they're learning to resist him."
"It doesn't matter, we are not taking Grey Wardens with us," Leliana cut her off.
"Your Lord Inquisitor is a Grey Warden." Morrigan looked at her and smirked. "He may wish to bring a few friends."
"You are coming - that's more than enough!" Leliana hissed.
"Hey, I'm standing right here!" Wolf finally intervened. "We shall bring the best of our forces, and that includes some Grey Wardens. As well as some mages, templars, warriors, archers and scouts. The rest will be in reserve. We don't even know where the fight will be! Or when!"
"So what - we just sit and wait for it?!" Cullen retorted with anger.
"We don't have any choice," Wolf nodded, sounding grave. "Cullen will command our combined forces. I shall take a small group to take point. As always. Cassandra and Morrigan - with me. Fiona will lead the mages... No, scratch that. Solas will lead the mages."
"You don't trust Fiona," Cullen looked up.
"Not a jot," Wolf shook his head. "I would leave her behind altogether, if only I could." He paused and sighed. "Cullen will handle the rest."
He shook his head and turned to go. Waiting was the hardest part of all.
"Dismissed." Josephine said and everyone turned around. "You forgot to say 'dismissed', Lord Inquisitor," she smiled. "Your forces await your command."
...
"I don't know how long we have to wait," Wolf was contemplating the mead in his mug. "I can't even get drunk in case that bastard attacks while I'm out cold!"
"We have means of waking up drunken recruits," Anders laughed between hiccups. "Worry not my friend, you won't miss the party!"
Wolf was spending most of his time with the Grey Wardens. In all fairness, he didn't have much to do, and waiting was unnerving. He made daily rounds of the troops, speaking to each group to keep up the morale, but he no longer was masking his colours. He was a Grey Warden and he was leading the fight against darkspawn, as was his duty. The Chantry wasn't happy with that, but there were no clerics going into battle.
Yet they didn't have to wait long. Barely a week passed since the last war council meeting when Wolf woke up with a distinct feeling that an attack was very close. Morrigan woke up too.
"Do you feel it?" He sat up. "He is gathering strength. The same feeling like before the Archdemon's attack. It will be another day or two, no more."
"I do not feel it, I am not a Grey Warden," Morrigan smiled. "But if so..."
"Kieran."
"What if..."
"...we fall." Wolf nodded. "I know. Grey Wardens can raise him, we have the means. Unless you prefer mages?"
"Grey Wardens," Morrigan nodded. "Assuming at least some of you survive..."
When Wolf finally got dressed and stepped into the courtyard, he found the entire contingent of Grey Wardens sober and ready for battle. Everyone had had the same dream.
"It's today," Wolf decided. "Tell Cullen."
Still, they didn't know what exactly was going to happen. Some speculated that an army of demons would attack Skyhold; others expected an army of darkspawn; yet others predicted dragons. But none of that occurred. Instead a world-shattering explosion was heard some distance away, and a new gaping hole in the sky was opened, much larger than the one they worked so hard to seal. Fade itself was pouring into the mountains, huge chunks of rock suspended in the air. The darkspawn lord once again blew up Haven.
...
Cullen was in his element. All the preparations now paid off - his troops were ready to march. Warriors, archers, mages, Grey Wardens, templars - everyone was there. They didn't have far to go either, all those portals and shortcuts they'd built, they were all paying off.
"I would have thought he'd be more creative," Varric joked along the way. "But no - he went for the very same place! Blew up the same Chantry in Haven as the first time! Why, blowing up Chantries is becoming a national pastime!"
"There is a reason for it though," Solas joined in on a much more serious note. "He was building a complex ritual when Wolf interrupted him the first time around. All the trappings of that are still in place... no, we could not remove them. He is clearly using them again, but now his ritual is changed... Pray that it takes a long time to prepare!"
Everyone focused on the march, there was little conversation. Solas caught up with Wolf when they were out of earshot of the others.
"Why did you want me to lead the mages?" He asked. "Not why not Fiona... I can see that. But why me? We have not been on the best terms recently."
"I trust you to fight for us," Wolf shot him a glance. "Whatever reservations I might have about you, they are not about this fight. And I cannot say the same about Fiona."
"You have reservations about me? Really?" Solas smiled.
"It's always the quiet ones that you have to watch," Wolf smirked. "You are many centuries old, Solas. We are toddlers compared to you. You have your own agenda, and I cannot even guess what it is. But I can see that defeating this darkspawn is a part of your plan, and so I am grateful to have you with us now."
"Toddlers... You humble me. I think I needed that," Solas smiled. "You are right. This darkspawn must die, our goals are in perfect agreement on that. And what comes after... is a worry for another day."
...
The battle was grand. Morrigan turned into a dragon and engaged the false Archdemon of the darkspawn lord. The rest of them battled demons, darkspawn and whatever else the lord pulled out of the Fade. It was complete chaos. No one could tell what was going on or when it would be finished.
But finish it did. Wolf knew that he could not kill that lord even at the cost of his own life. He didn't have a plan but he did have knowledge - pieces of information that Morrigan conveyed to him after she drank from the Well of Sorrows. The thing that gave Wolf a mark on his hand was an elven sphere. It had the power to tear down the Veil, but that power had now been split between the sphere and the mark. It was no longer enough. It appeared that tearing down the Veil was what the lord wanted, however it still remained unclear why. Regardless, tearing down the Veil would destroy the world, and Wolf could not allow it. The lord had that sphere with him, he drew power from it, and so when he was finally defeated, when he lay on the ground, Wolf did not strike the final blow. Instead, he picked up the sphere and flung it into the hole in the sky.
The breach closed. The darkspawn lord and his dragon were dead and not reborn. The sphere fell back to the ground, shattered. Yet the mark on Wolf's hand remained, burning as bright as ever, sending searing pain through his entire body.
He dropped to his knees trying to control the pain. Morrigan lay in a pool of blood, back in her human form and much the worse for wear. They won, but at what cost?
"The sphere is broken," Solas knelt over it. "It was all for naught..."
"What..?" Wolf could barely speak through pain.
"This is what I hoped to recover..." Solas turned to him. "It was too much to hope for though. I should have been honest with myself. It was all a grand plan that went terribly wrong..."
"What was..?" Wolf tried to rise but he was all but paralysed by the pain.
"You've met Mythal, did she not tell you?" Solas looked at him.
"She just said... The Blight was only the beginning..."
"The Blight is over, has been for ten years now."
"The Blight is not over," Wolf shook his head. "The threat to this world still exists... I know... I am a Grey Warden."
"Grey Wardens were always going to be trouble," Solas frowned. "Ever since they drank Archdemon's blood... And you with your dragon blood are more trouble still. But I shall relieve your pain." Solas waved his hand and the glow in Wolf's hand went out. "You were right to doubt me. When you touched my sphere, you became bound to my will... I am Fen'Herel, the Dread Wolf."
"An elven god like Mythal..." Wolf breathed out, the pain vanishing as the mark stopped glowing.
"Indeed, here in the body of Solas," he bowed slightly. "Only I don't need to change bodies. Mythal was killed, her spirit fractured, only her essence survived. I am whole, however. This body is now my own. Solas is long dead. I walk in the Fade as well as in Mundus. I aim to raise the elves out of slavery and oppression and rebuild the world the way it was before humans existed. And to that end I have to destroy it first. That sphere... was meant for that. To tear down the Veil. Now I shall have to start again... Your mark serves no further purpose, and so I removed it. But your will remains bound to me. In your world you know me by the name of Hircine..."
"The Prince of the Hunt," Wolf nodded. "I didn't know you were an elf."
"Solas was an elf," Fen'Herel corrected him. "The statues of Hircine in Tamriel are... somewhat exaggerated," he chuckled. "But I do like the horns. Yet isn't it strange that the Master of Wolves should look like a stag..?"
...
Skyhold was filled with guests. People fought for the invitations. Celebrations of the great victory were lavish, the Inquisition grew rich and powerful. Wolf couldn't wait to get out.
"Lady Morrigan regretfully cannot attend," Josephine repeated the same phrase to yet another guest. "Yes, she is alive but her wounds were too great."
"You can change it to 'Lady Morrigan and Lord Trevelyan'", Wolf said to her apologetically. "I am sorry but all the noise is giving me a tremendous headache..."
"Well, it is not what I wanted to hear, but I understand..." Josephine sighed. "You can slip away through the kitchens."
He did. Leaving the party behind, he made his way into the guest room where Morrigan and Kieran were staying and where he'd been sleeping since they came out of the eluvian. He found Morrigan just sitting there, Kieran on her lap, asleep.
"Time for bed, I think," Wolf helped her move the sleepy boy to his bed. "We are both alive. The rest can wait till tomorrow. I told Josephine I had a headache - I didn't lie."
"Let's lock the door," Morrigan threw on a bolt. "I... I am uneasy."
"Not surprising," Wolf smiled. "Dragons are not just beasts... Besides, your dragon form looked exactly like your mother's."
"Well... I guess you are right..." Morrigan sighed. "I'll get used to it, I suppose..."
"When we leave here, we should go to Soldier's Peak," Wolf grew somber. "I want to make arrangements for Kieran. He will likely be a mage, Avernus can teach him. The Drydens will take him in, should we both... be indisposed. This cannot wait."
"What happened?" Morrigan sat up.
"Solas is Fen'Herel, the Dread Wolf. The sphere and the mark were his. I touched it; my will is bound to him the same as yours is bound to Mythal."
"I am sorry," Morrigan's voice fell. "I... The Well warned me of him but I did not make the connection..."
"That he was Solas? Don't worry, it would not have changed a thing."
They did not talk for much longer, there was not much to say. They fell asleep in a close embrace. Peace was ephemeral, but at least they had each other.
Second Seed, 3E399 - 3E406 - An end of an era
It had been good two to three months before Wolf could finally leave Skyhold. As Lord Inquisitor, he could not just drop everything and run, it wasn't his style. Ferelden Grey Wardens led by Oghren set off to Vigil Keep, taking Morrigan and Kieran with them. Oghren promised to personally deliver them to Soldier's Peak which was on the way, in spite of Zevran's protests that his own presence would be fully sufficient. Wolf was thankful to Oghren though - Morrigan was still weak after the battle and they had Kieran to think of too.
Back at Skyhold, the question of Orlaisian Grey Wardens still remained open. Their Warden-Commander Clarel fell in battle, but not before she severely decimated their Order and cast a long and dark shadow on all Grey Wardens by unwittingly binding her Wardens to the darkspawn lord. Many people saw it as proof that Grey Wardens were too unreliable and not worth the bother. Of course those were not the people who lived through the Blight in Ferelden ten years before. The Grey in Ferelden stood strong; the Grey elsewhere faced suspicion and doubt.
"What will become of these Wardens?" Alistair was watching remaining Wardens at Skyhold tend to their gear. "They have no where to go."
"They can return to their headquarters in Orlais, wherever that is, they can elect a new Warden-Commander, or else the Head Quarters can appoint one, I'm sure... or at least send an accountant," he smirked, recalling how the Head Quarters sent them an accountant when the Ferelden chapter was re-established after the Blight. "They can also try to join another chapter," he shot a glance at Alistair.
"Yeah, an accountant would really help them out," Alistair nodded, the sarcasm not lost on him. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"
"Depends what you're thinking..."
Wolf got up and walked over to the Wardens.
"How many of you survived?" He asked. "Of the Orlaisian chapter. Have you thought of electing a new Warden-Commander?"
"After Warden-Commander Clarel?" One of them looked up. "Hardly. She went wrong in the end, but she served for a long time before that... She was a remarkable woman. It will be hard to fill her shoes."
"You have to decide for yourselves," Wolf looked into their faces. "Wait for your orders from the First Warden-Commander... or come with us. Join the Ferelden chapter. But beware that I never swore an oath to him. We are not breaking away from the Order, but we intend to cleanse it before we can rebuild. I believe corruption runs deep, I think we'll find the Blight at the heart of the Order once we go digging. Joining us is unsafe, but we intend to find out exactly what happened with Clarel..." He paused, waiting for questions, but no one spoke. "Anyone who wishes to come with us, should leave their names with Alistair in the next few days. After that we march."
People nodded but again no one spoke, and Wolf left to attend to other business.
...
"You can't just disband the Inquisition!" Josephine was livid when Wolf declared during their next war council meeting that he, Lord Inquisitor, would end the Inquisition. "We have an army and a standing to maintain! Nobility everywhere depends on us! As do the people! The Chantry too!"
"The Inquisition was set up as a temporary organisation with a very specific aim," Wolf pointed out, putting the charter tome on the table. "The aim was to avert the end of the world. We've done it. All other problems that we're seeing, are everyday problems, they are in remit of the kings and queens of the lands in question! The Inquisition must step aside."
"The Inquisition could be merged with the Chantry," Leliana stepped forward. "We could use the army!"
"I'm sure you could!" Wolf scowled. "Which is why it isn't going to happen!"
"And who decides this, anyway?" Cassandra opened the writ. "Wait... here - it is quite clear. 'Lord Inquisitor decides on the fate of the Inquisition.' So then... by our Lord's decree, we are disbanded."
"Noooo!!"
Wolf watched the four founding members argue with each other one last time. Eventually they calmed down.
"Grey Wardens will be leaving in a few days, some with me and others... well... by themselves, I guess," he scratched the back of his head. "The mages are leaving for Ferelden to set up a new College in the old Circle Tower... which is ironic. The templars are coming with them... to protect... something or other... I really have no idea... The rest of you... err... whatever... I am no longer your Lord!" He smiled brightly. "If anyone wants me, I'll be away fighting darkspawn in the Deep Roads!" He beamed at them all. "See you around."
He left the room. There would be still time to say proper goodbyes to each and every person at Skyhold, but he was done with war council meetings once and for all. "Lord Trevelyan no longer!" He smirked. Of course, that wasn't strictly true, but House Trevelyan wisely left him alone, because as a Grey Warden, he would have left his prior life behind at the Joining.
"Celebrating your new-found freedom?" Dorian saw him walking with a smile on his face. "Done with politics for now, I take it?"
"Finally!" Wolf grinned. "And you?"
"I'll be returning to Tevinter," Dorian looked away. "I shall likely be in politics sooner or later... I cannot believe I'm saying this... But if I want my homeland to change, I have to get down to business..." He sighed. "And since this is a goodbye, let me give you a present," he handed Wolf a polished gem. "A talking gem. The height of Tevinter magic at your fingertips. I don't know if it will work in Tamriel, but here in Thedas... Just touch it when you want to talk, and I'll answer. I might even call on you myself... Isn't it fun?" He laughed, but Wolf noticed apprehension in his tone.
"I like it," he said warmly. "What a wonderful thought! Be well, Dorian, and don't let them bore you too much. And I have a feeling, this gem will be used more than you hope... especially when... ah, but let's not talk business today! I'll call you, of that you can be certain!"
...
Vigil Keep once again was full of life. Almost all Orlaisian Wardens came to Ferelden, with only a few staying behind. There was talk that the ones that didn't follow Wolf, might make a move against him, so no one was surprised to learn that they went to the Head Quarters to join the chapter there. Wolf didn't think it important enough to keep tabs on them all and quickly lost them from view. His goal was now to find the cause of Clarel's actions, to understand how some Grey Wardens could be controlled by the darkspawn lord and how to avoid it in the future. Wolf did not believe that the lord was unique.
Meanwhile Morrigan was growing more and more reclusive. The change was gradual, she was spending much time in the library of Vigil Keep, and no one thought anything of it since she'd always had a thirst for knowledge. But Wolf noticed that although she was not pulling away from him or Kieran, she was somehow becoming detached from the worldly life, focusing on whatever was going on in her head. Sometimes she would be gone for several days, and people would report sightings of a dragon on mountain peaks.
Kieran started showing magic abilities a year or two later, he was twelve or thirteen, a typical age when magic would awaken. Morrigan started to teach him, then suggested that Avernus should take over.
"We can move to Soldier's Peak, at least for a time," she said. "I want a word with Avernus... I think Kieran should be taught by someone besides his mother."
Wolf didn't argue, but he felt that something else was afoot.
Soldier's Peak was a quiet place, away from main roads, yet close to several towns, and so the Drydens still lived there and used it as a hub for their trade. They had several children of their own, some close to Kieran in age.
"You can leave Kieran with us," Levi Dryden told Wolf one day, finding him staring into his mead. "That's what troubles you, isn't it? You have to leave and Morrigan will fly away. Kieran is still too young to be on his own, but here he will be with us."
"Morrigan will fly away?" Wolf gave him a long look. "So you noticed."
"Hard not to notice a dragon," Levi smirked. "But I don't mean it badly. It's just... that's what she is."
"Yeah... Mythal..."
"I remember talk... Flemeth... I met her," Levi said quietly. "During the Blight. The Dalish elves always knew who she was, they told me. I see her again now."
"Morrigan isn't Flemeth," Wolf scowled. "A different woman entirely."
"Yes, she is your wife, you'd know..."
"She's not... we never..."
"Not in the Chantry... but what does it matter?" Levi refilled his mead. "She isn't Flemeth, but she is Mythal."
...
Several more years passed. The Ferelden chapter of the Grey Wardens Order under the command of Warden-Commander Asgarsen made a name for itself both within the Order and outside of it. They did not break ranks but they exposed the bureaucratic core of the Head Quarters, their links to Tevinter mages that served the darkspawn lord, exchanges of favours and the sacrifice of the Orlaisian chapter and Warden-Commander Clarel. Yes, the Wardens in Orlais were hearing the Call of the Black City which plunged them into despair - that was the doing of the darkspawn lord. But the "solution" to this, the Magister who came to offer them demons to strengthen their ranks with the aim to put an end to all Blights... that Magister was sent with a full consent of the Head Quarters in exchange for favours too mundane and vulgar to mention. Corruption came in many forms indeed.
Appalled, the Order of the Grey reeled from the revelations. Heads rolled, new Commanders were appointed... but Wolf remained unconvinced. The new First Warden-Commander granted Fereldens a special status of independence in recognition of their services to the Order... or perhaps with the aim of keeping them out of the Head Quarters from then on. Wolf did not mind. He sensed that his time in Thedas might be coming to a close and he wanted to wrap up his affairs without rush.
...
Wolf received orders to return to Tamriel in 3E405, or the year 9:48 Dragon in terms of the Thedas calendar. He was given discretion to return within 12 months. The Legion preferred to see his affairs closed with care, new agents were sent to replace him, and Wolf felt that it was unlikely he would ever set foot in Thedas again.
"Kieran is turning seventeen this year," Wolf showed his orders to Morrigan. "Another year or two and he'll be ready for a life of his own."
"He's ready now, if need be," Morrigan smiled. "But perhaps too young to become a Grey Warden as yet."
"I was younger when I enlisted in the Legion..." Wolf nodded. "He can become a recruit. They won't push with the Joining until they think he's strong enough."
"Someone will need to watch over him though..." Morrigan took Wolf's hand. "Because I too will be gone."
"You hear the Call."
"It's nearly time," she nodded. "Mythal has duties to her people."
"But you are not an elf," Wolf objected.
"It's not just elves I have duties to," Morrigan smiled. "Dark times are coming. I have to prepare."
They fell silent, watching each other for a while. Then Morrigan spoke.
"What of Fen'Herel? What does he want of you?"
"I don't know," Wolf shrugged. "Nothing to date. I do have dreams of wolves... like I am becoming one."
"That's in your name," Morrigan smiled.
"That's... no, it's not the same... somehow."
"Your blood has dragon blood, darkspawn taint and now Fen'Herel's magic... I would not be at all surprised if you just turned into a toad without me even trying," Morrigan laughed. "How is it that you are not a mage, I cannot fathom!"
"I like mages though," Wolf grinned. "My best friends are mages... my wife... my son... just not me," he stroked her cheek.
"You must promise me, promise me again, that when you are back in Tamriel, you will start over," Morrigan said quite gravely. "Kieran will be fine with the Wardens, and I... well, I cannot follow. You must not stop living on that account."
"I may not have that many years left to live," Wolf pointed out. "I am nearing sixty already."
"Nonsense! Don't you see? Your life is only just beginning," Morrigan looked up. "You will not die at eighty like most humans. You will live on. For centuries."
"No, the taint will kill me," Wolf shook his head. "It is the fate of all Grey Wardens."
"Except Avernus, it seems," Morrigan smiled.
"Except Avernus," Wolf nodded. "Well... we'll see, I guess. I've been a Warden for twenty years... some are starting to hear the Call at this stage. But the only call that I hear, is that of a Great Wolf howling at the moon..."
...
Wolf Asgarsen returned to Tamriel some time in 3E406. He was appointed the Commander of the Second Imperial Legion stationed in Falkreath. True to his word, Zevran came with him, and after some introductions, he took a few jobs for the Legion before vanishing to live his own life. No one knew whether he joined the Dark Brotherhood or the Morag Tong, but everyone feared his blade. And perhaps this ambiguity was entirely intentional. He visited Wolf often enough, stayed a while, then vanished again. Wolf's soldiers got used to seeing a white-haired elf come and go at his leisure. His armour and blades were superb, and faint perfume of almonds and peonies briefly hung in the air where he'd been. Some joked about it, but a more deadly poison had not been invented, and jokes quickly stopped, along with any speculations of his relationship with the Commander or who it was that he worked for.
One night Zevran brought a woman with him, quite literally carrying her over his shoulder. It looked like she'd been in a fight and lost - her armour was dark with stale blood and her breath was shallow.
"I have a favour to ask," Zevran put her down. "An apprentice. She shows promise if not restraint. Letting her die would be a waste, I reckon. She'll recover, if not left in the cold for too long, and your fort is the only place to bring her before she breathes her last..."
"Barracks are down the hall," Wolf signaled some soldiers to take her there. "What's her name?"
"Lillian Delacour, a mage," Zevran replied. "Lily. Still too young for this life, too hot-headed... Well. I should be going. I'll be in touch."
He left, and still no one knew whether Lily was an apprentice of Zevran or of his target... or perhaps of someone entirely unrelated.
It had been good two to three months before Wolf could finally leave Skyhold. As Lord Inquisitor, he could not just drop everything and run, it wasn't his style. Ferelden Grey Wardens led by Oghren set off to Vigil Keep, taking Morrigan and Kieran with them. Oghren promised to personally deliver them to Soldier's Peak which was on the way, in spite of Zevran's protests that his own presence would be fully sufficient. Wolf was thankful to Oghren though - Morrigan was still weak after the battle and they had Kieran to think of too.
Back at Skyhold, the question of Orlaisian Grey Wardens still remained open. Their Warden-Commander Clarel fell in battle, but not before she severely decimated their Order and cast a long and dark shadow on all Grey Wardens by unwittingly binding her Wardens to the darkspawn lord. Many people saw it as proof that Grey Wardens were too unreliable and not worth the bother. Of course those were not the people who lived through the Blight in Ferelden ten years before. The Grey in Ferelden stood strong; the Grey elsewhere faced suspicion and doubt.
"What will become of these Wardens?" Alistair was watching remaining Wardens at Skyhold tend to their gear. "They have no where to go."
"They can return to their headquarters in Orlais, wherever that is, they can elect a new Warden-Commander, or else the Head Quarters can appoint one, I'm sure... or at least send an accountant," he smirked, recalling how the Head Quarters sent them an accountant when the Ferelden chapter was re-established after the Blight. "They can also try to join another chapter," he shot a glance at Alistair.
"Yeah, an accountant would really help them out," Alistair nodded, the sarcasm not lost on him. "Are you thinking what I am thinking?"
"Depends what you're thinking..."
Wolf got up and walked over to the Wardens.
"How many of you survived?" He asked. "Of the Orlaisian chapter. Have you thought of electing a new Warden-Commander?"
"After Warden-Commander Clarel?" One of them looked up. "Hardly. She went wrong in the end, but she served for a long time before that... She was a remarkable woman. It will be hard to fill her shoes."
"You have to decide for yourselves," Wolf looked into their faces. "Wait for your orders from the First Warden-Commander... or come with us. Join the Ferelden chapter. But beware that I never swore an oath to him. We are not breaking away from the Order, but we intend to cleanse it before we can rebuild. I believe corruption runs deep, I think we'll find the Blight at the heart of the Order once we go digging. Joining us is unsafe, but we intend to find out exactly what happened with Clarel..." He paused, waiting for questions, but no one spoke. "Anyone who wishes to come with us, should leave their names with Alistair in the next few days. After that we march."
People nodded but again no one spoke, and Wolf left to attend to other business.
...
"You can't just disband the Inquisition!" Josephine was livid when Wolf declared during their next war council meeting that he, Lord Inquisitor, would end the Inquisition. "We have an army and a standing to maintain! Nobility everywhere depends on us! As do the people! The Chantry too!"
"The Inquisition was set up as a temporary organisation with a very specific aim," Wolf pointed out, putting the charter tome on the table. "The aim was to avert the end of the world. We've done it. All other problems that we're seeing, are everyday problems, they are in remit of the kings and queens of the lands in question! The Inquisition must step aside."
"The Inquisition could be merged with the Chantry," Leliana stepped forward. "We could use the army!"
"I'm sure you could!" Wolf scowled. "Which is why it isn't going to happen!"
"And who decides this, anyway?" Cassandra opened the writ. "Wait... here - it is quite clear. 'Lord Inquisitor decides on the fate of the Inquisition.' So then... by our Lord's decree, we are disbanded."
"Noooo!!"
Wolf watched the four founding members argue with each other one last time. Eventually they calmed down.
"Grey Wardens will be leaving in a few days, some with me and others... well... by themselves, I guess," he scratched the back of his head. "The mages are leaving for Ferelden to set up a new College in the old Circle Tower... which is ironic. The templars are coming with them... to protect... something or other... I really have no idea... The rest of you... err... whatever... I am no longer your Lord!" He smiled brightly. "If anyone wants me, I'll be away fighting darkspawn in the Deep Roads!" He beamed at them all. "See you around."
He left the room. There would be still time to say proper goodbyes to each and every person at Skyhold, but he was done with war council meetings once and for all. "Lord Trevelyan no longer!" He smirked. Of course, that wasn't strictly true, but House Trevelyan wisely left him alone, because as a Grey Warden, he would have left his prior life behind at the Joining.
"Celebrating your new-found freedom?" Dorian saw him walking with a smile on his face. "Done with politics for now, I take it?"
"Finally!" Wolf grinned. "And you?"
"I'll be returning to Tevinter," Dorian looked away. "I shall likely be in politics sooner or later... I cannot believe I'm saying this... But if I want my homeland to change, I have to get down to business..." He sighed. "And since this is a goodbye, let me give you a present," he handed Wolf a polished gem. "A talking gem. The height of Tevinter magic at your fingertips. I don't know if it will work in Tamriel, but here in Thedas... Just touch it when you want to talk, and I'll answer. I might even call on you myself... Isn't it fun?" He laughed, but Wolf noticed apprehension in his tone.
"I like it," he said warmly. "What a wonderful thought! Be well, Dorian, and don't let them bore you too much. And I have a feeling, this gem will be used more than you hope... especially when... ah, but let's not talk business today! I'll call you, of that you can be certain!"
...
Vigil Keep once again was full of life. Almost all Orlaisian Wardens came to Ferelden, with only a few staying behind. There was talk that the ones that didn't follow Wolf, might make a move against him, so no one was surprised to learn that they went to the Head Quarters to join the chapter there. Wolf didn't think it important enough to keep tabs on them all and quickly lost them from view. His goal was now to find the cause of Clarel's actions, to understand how some Grey Wardens could be controlled by the darkspawn lord and how to avoid it in the future. Wolf did not believe that the lord was unique.
Meanwhile Morrigan was growing more and more reclusive. The change was gradual, she was spending much time in the library of Vigil Keep, and no one thought anything of it since she'd always had a thirst for knowledge. But Wolf noticed that although she was not pulling away from him or Kieran, she was somehow becoming detached from the worldly life, focusing on whatever was going on in her head. Sometimes she would be gone for several days, and people would report sightings of a dragon on mountain peaks.
Kieran started showing magic abilities a year or two later, he was twelve or thirteen, a typical age when magic would awaken. Morrigan started to teach him, then suggested that Avernus should take over.
"We can move to Soldier's Peak, at least for a time," she said. "I want a word with Avernus... I think Kieran should be taught by someone besides his mother."
Wolf didn't argue, but he felt that something else was afoot.
Soldier's Peak was a quiet place, away from main roads, yet close to several towns, and so the Drydens still lived there and used it as a hub for their trade. They had several children of their own, some close to Kieran in age.
"You can leave Kieran with us," Levi Dryden told Wolf one day, finding him staring into his mead. "That's what troubles you, isn't it? You have to leave and Morrigan will fly away. Kieran is still too young to be on his own, but here he will be with us."
"Morrigan will fly away?" Wolf gave him a long look. "So you noticed."
"Hard not to notice a dragon," Levi smirked. "But I don't mean it badly. It's just... that's what she is."
"Yeah... Mythal..."
"I remember talk... Flemeth... I met her," Levi said quietly. "During the Blight. The Dalish elves always knew who she was, they told me. I see her again now."
"Morrigan isn't Flemeth," Wolf scowled. "A different woman entirely."
"Yes, she is your wife, you'd know..."
"She's not... we never..."
"Not in the Chantry... but what does it matter?" Levi refilled his mead. "She isn't Flemeth, but she is Mythal."
...
Several more years passed. The Ferelden chapter of the Grey Wardens Order under the command of Warden-Commander Asgarsen made a name for itself both within the Order and outside of it. They did not break ranks but they exposed the bureaucratic core of the Head Quarters, their links to Tevinter mages that served the darkspawn lord, exchanges of favours and the sacrifice of the Orlaisian chapter and Warden-Commander Clarel. Yes, the Wardens in Orlais were hearing the Call of the Black City which plunged them into despair - that was the doing of the darkspawn lord. But the "solution" to this, the Magister who came to offer them demons to strengthen their ranks with the aim to put an end to all Blights... that Magister was sent with a full consent of the Head Quarters in exchange for favours too mundane and vulgar to mention. Corruption came in many forms indeed.
Appalled, the Order of the Grey reeled from the revelations. Heads rolled, new Commanders were appointed... but Wolf remained unconvinced. The new First Warden-Commander granted Fereldens a special status of independence in recognition of their services to the Order... or perhaps with the aim of keeping them out of the Head Quarters from then on. Wolf did not mind. He sensed that his time in Thedas might be coming to a close and he wanted to wrap up his affairs without rush.
...
Wolf received orders to return to Tamriel in 3E405, or the year 9:48 Dragon in terms of the Thedas calendar. He was given discretion to return within 12 months. The Legion preferred to see his affairs closed with care, new agents were sent to replace him, and Wolf felt that it was unlikely he would ever set foot in Thedas again.
"Kieran is turning seventeen this year," Wolf showed his orders to Morrigan. "Another year or two and he'll be ready for a life of his own."
"He's ready now, if need be," Morrigan smiled. "But perhaps too young to become a Grey Warden as yet."
"I was younger when I enlisted in the Legion..." Wolf nodded. "He can become a recruit. They won't push with the Joining until they think he's strong enough."
"Someone will need to watch over him though..." Morrigan took Wolf's hand. "Because I too will be gone."
"You hear the Call."
"It's nearly time," she nodded. "Mythal has duties to her people."
"But you are not an elf," Wolf objected.
"It's not just elves I have duties to," Morrigan smiled. "Dark times are coming. I have to prepare."
They fell silent, watching each other for a while. Then Morrigan spoke.
"What of Fen'Herel? What does he want of you?"
"I don't know," Wolf shrugged. "Nothing to date. I do have dreams of wolves... like I am becoming one."
"That's in your name," Morrigan smiled.
"That's... no, it's not the same... somehow."
"Your blood has dragon blood, darkspawn taint and now Fen'Herel's magic... I would not be at all surprised if you just turned into a toad without me even trying," Morrigan laughed. "How is it that you are not a mage, I cannot fathom!"
"I like mages though," Wolf grinned. "My best friends are mages... my wife... my son... just not me," he stroked her cheek.
"You must promise me, promise me again, that when you are back in Tamriel, you will start over," Morrigan said quite gravely. "Kieran will be fine with the Wardens, and I... well, I cannot follow. You must not stop living on that account."
"I may not have that many years left to live," Wolf pointed out. "I am nearing sixty already."
"Nonsense! Don't you see? Your life is only just beginning," Morrigan looked up. "You will not die at eighty like most humans. You will live on. For centuries."
"No, the taint will kill me," Wolf shook his head. "It is the fate of all Grey Wardens."
"Except Avernus, it seems," Morrigan smiled.
"Except Avernus," Wolf nodded. "Well... we'll see, I guess. I've been a Warden for twenty years... some are starting to hear the Call at this stage. But the only call that I hear, is that of a Great Wolf howling at the moon..."
...
Wolf Asgarsen returned to Tamriel some time in 3E406. He was appointed the Commander of the Second Imperial Legion stationed in Falkreath. True to his word, Zevran came with him, and after some introductions, he took a few jobs for the Legion before vanishing to live his own life. No one knew whether he joined the Dark Brotherhood or the Morag Tong, but everyone feared his blade. And perhaps this ambiguity was entirely intentional. He visited Wolf often enough, stayed a while, then vanished again. Wolf's soldiers got used to seeing a white-haired elf come and go at his leisure. His armour and blades were superb, and faint perfume of almonds and peonies briefly hung in the air where he'd been. Some joked about it, but a more deadly poison had not been invented, and jokes quickly stopped, along with any speculations of his relationship with the Commander or who it was that he worked for.
One night Zevran brought a woman with him, quite literally carrying her over his shoulder. It looked like she'd been in a fight and lost - her armour was dark with stale blood and her breath was shallow.
"I have a favour to ask," Zevran put her down. "An apprentice. She shows promise if not restraint. Letting her die would be a waste, I reckon. She'll recover, if not left in the cold for too long, and your fort is the only place to bring her before she breathes her last..."
"Barracks are down the hall," Wolf signaled some soldiers to take her there. "What's her name?"
"Lillian Delacour, a mage," Zevran replied. "Lily. Still too young for this life, too hot-headed... Well. I should be going. I'll be in touch."
He left, and still no one knew whether Lily was an apprentice of Zevran or of his target... or perhaps of someone entirely unrelated.
We now move into the next chapter of the Dragon Age story, and a new game - Dragon Age: The Veilguard. This game just only came out last week. Thus, the same as I've done with Dragon's Dogma 2, I am not going to follow the plot beyond the introductory scene which is necessary to understand the setting. My opinion of the game so far... will probably become clear from the story. 
Still, I am sufficiently curious about it to continue playing.
This game, the same as its predecessors, gives us a ready-made persona to play. That is, you can choose one of several ready-made personas. This is of course not good enough for me, so I change my character's backstory freely, which also reflects in his choices and attitudes. And since I am not really following the plot here, we are likely to have adventures that were not foreseen by the actual game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Seed, 3E410 - Blondie
"I am here for you, Blondie," Varric walked into the mess hall of Vigil Keep. "It's time you cleaned up your mess."
"Sod off, Varric," Anders grimaced and returned to his meal. "It wasn't me and you know it."
"I know. But I need your help. Trouble is afoot." Varric sat next to him and poured himself some mead. "It's serious, kid. Solas is planning to destroy the world."
"Mmm..." Anders pretended not to listen. "Nothing to do with me."
"The world! I am not joking."
"Ask Hawke."
"He... He isn't the man he used to be..." Varric shuffled his feet. "Lyrium. The blue kind."
"I thought only templars took it?" Anders shot him a glance. "Hawke isn't a templar."
"And neither is he a mage..." Varric sighed. "He... well, he cannot help, let's just leave it at that."
"So why come to me?" Anders sat back in his chair.
"You've dealt with weird stuff... spirits and demons, the Fade, blood magic, the lot... and darkspawn... weird darkspawn... You qualify," Varric beamed at him.
"For what?" Anders looked straight at Varric. "Speak plainly."
"Solas is building up towards a ritual to tear down the Veil," Varric lowered his voice. "In Minrathous. We have to stop him."
"How?"
"I was thinking to talk, in fact," Varric smiled.
"With your crossbow," Anders smirked, noticing it under the table.
"Well... It's backup."
"This is madness, Varric. You cannot just talk to a god."
"Solas is not a god."
"Solas was Fen'Herel last time I checked. The Dread Wolf."
"But he is also Solas, my friend," Varric wasn't giving up.
"You are kidding yourself."
"If so, we all are ass-deep in demon dung," Varric shook his head. "Or just dead. Whichever. I need you, Anders."
"Well, you didn't call me Blondie... It must be bad," Anders smirked. "I am so going to regret it... I just know it."
...
Anders had never been to Minrathous before. The city was grand, but also oppressive and controlling. Could buildings be oppressive? It seemed they could.
Solas was indeed setting up something huge using tall buildings in the city. The Veil seemed to gather in a fold around him, it was shimmering green, and people wondered what the strange lights were. Tevinter had most amazing magic, but this was beyond anything people had ever seen. A figure of a man was visible on a high platform, a dark silhouette against luminous sky. Something was glittering in his hand, he moved like a conductor during an orchestral performance.
"There," Varric pointed him out. "I'll go and talk to him... Let's hope he listens..."
...
Varric was on the ground. "He didn't listen," he looked up. Solas had flung him from that platform back to where Anders was waiting. Varric's crossbow was shattered, Varric's leg also. Solas was continuing with his ritual.
"You've got to stop him, kid," Varric gave Anders a hard stare. "Or else..."
"Well..." Anders sighed. "Since everyone already thinks I blew up the Chantry... Might as well do it."
For all the work that Solas had put in to set up his ritual, it was remarkable how many weak points it had. A good push against one of the columns holding a focus crystal was enough to topple it and disrupt the whole setup. A huge explosion followed leaving half of Minrathous in ruin. Anders stood in the Fade.
"What have you done, you idiot!!!" Solas flew at him, enraged. "You brought down the end of the world!!!"
"No, it was your idea!" Anders retorted, realising that Solas couldn't actually touch him. An invisible wall was between them.
"I was trying to restore the world!"
"By destroying it?!"
"Well, yes, some sacrifices were required," Solas conceded. "But I have to free the elves! The world you know was built upon their bones!"
"Let's take it from the top then," Anders folded his arms. "A little bird told me it was you who created the Veil. Someone said that this world used to be one with the Fade, and that the elves used the Fade to keep their collective memories and wisdom. When you created the Veil, you single-handedly destroyed the elves as they no longer knew who they were."
"Yes, this is true," Solas nodded gravely. "I miscalculated. I did not realise what the Veil would do to the elves. I was trying to free them though!"
"Oh?"
"The elven gods... They were no gods! They were people, mages. Powerful mages who ruled the world. They invented the Blight, the corruption... in order to control the other elves. It made them obedient. So many were enslaved, sacrificed to the experimentation... I sought to save the people!" Solas exclaimed with pathos. "I created the Veil and trapped the false gods in the Fade so that the people could live freely in Mundus!"
"Well, that explains why darkspawn are drawn to the 'old gods' as we call them... But it doesn't explain the dragons. Darkspawn is always led by an Archdemon, a dragon with a soul of an old god, now corrupted. This doesn't add up with your elven mages, Solas."
"Grey Wardens were always going to be trouble!" Solas scowled. "You know too much!" He paced about. "Alright. There were indeed old gods. The dragons. Dragons are immortal, their souls are immortal. They are no gods though."
"Define 'god'." Anders was extremely skeptical. The whole story made no sense.
"A god is an immortal being much more powerful than regular people," Solas shrugged. "Immortality is a requirement, and this is what those elven mages didn't have."
"So why did you not just kill them?" Anders squinted. "Why create the Veil instead?"
"Because they gained immortality by then..."
"You make no sense at all, Solas." Anders was losing patience.
"Alright, alright, I don't really know how they did it... They captured dragons and subdued their souls somehow. Took on their immortality. And by doing so, they became gods. I could not kill them, so I created the Veil."
"And now you want to tear it down," Anders decided to move on. "Wouldn't it release those awful gods and undo whatever protection the Veil was giving the world?"
"My plan was to put up a new Veil just around their prison," Solas scowled. "Just a small portion of the Fade, not the whole Fade like now. But you disrupted it! That explosion tore a breach large enough to allow the gods to escape! If they are now burning down the world, it is your doing, mage!"
Anders had had enough.
"See you around, Solas," he said coldly and turned to leave.
"You'll be back," Solas said unexpectedly calmly. "You'll want help, guidance... And I am still your best lead. Ironically, it is I who is now locked in the pocket of Fade I created... I cannot leave. I did not miscalculate this... the prison works..."
...
Anders was walking in the Fade. What was he going to do now? If Solas was right, the world was in great danger. Was the breach in the Veil still open? Were demons pouring into the world through it, just like in the time of the Inquisition? He thought of Wolf and the mark on his hand with which to close the rifts. He had no such mark... And that story... the old gods... he still could not get to the root of it. Were the old gods just the dragons, then? Misused by evil elven mages? Perhaps... One thing was clear though - he got himself into an incredible mess. Again.
Still, I am sufficiently curious about it to continue playing. This game, the same as its predecessors, gives us a ready-made persona to play. That is, you can choose one of several ready-made personas. This is of course not good enough for me, so I change my character's backstory freely, which also reflects in his choices and attitudes. And since I am not really following the plot here, we are likely to have adventures that were not foreseen by the actual game.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Second Seed, 3E410 - Blondie
"I am here for you, Blondie," Varric walked into the mess hall of Vigil Keep. "It's time you cleaned up your mess."
"Sod off, Varric," Anders grimaced and returned to his meal. "It wasn't me and you know it."
"I know. But I need your help. Trouble is afoot." Varric sat next to him and poured himself some mead. "It's serious, kid. Solas is planning to destroy the world."
"Mmm..." Anders pretended not to listen. "Nothing to do with me."
"The world! I am not joking."
"Ask Hawke."
"He... He isn't the man he used to be..." Varric shuffled his feet. "Lyrium. The blue kind."
"I thought only templars took it?" Anders shot him a glance. "Hawke isn't a templar."
"And neither is he a mage..." Varric sighed. "He... well, he cannot help, let's just leave it at that."
"So why come to me?" Anders sat back in his chair.
"You've dealt with weird stuff... spirits and demons, the Fade, blood magic, the lot... and darkspawn... weird darkspawn... You qualify," Varric beamed at him.
"For what?" Anders looked straight at Varric. "Speak plainly."
"Solas is building up towards a ritual to tear down the Veil," Varric lowered his voice. "In Minrathous. We have to stop him."
"How?"
"I was thinking to talk, in fact," Varric smiled.
"With your crossbow," Anders smirked, noticing it under the table.
"Well... It's backup."
"This is madness, Varric. You cannot just talk to a god."
"Solas is not a god."
"Solas was Fen'Herel last time I checked. The Dread Wolf."
"But he is also Solas, my friend," Varric wasn't giving up.
"You are kidding yourself."
"If so, we all are ass-deep in demon dung," Varric shook his head. "Or just dead. Whichever. I need you, Anders."
"Well, you didn't call me Blondie... It must be bad," Anders smirked. "I am so going to regret it... I just know it."
...
Anders had never been to Minrathous before. The city was grand, but also oppressive and controlling. Could buildings be oppressive? It seemed they could.
Solas was indeed setting up something huge using tall buildings in the city. The Veil seemed to gather in a fold around him, it was shimmering green, and people wondered what the strange lights were. Tevinter had most amazing magic, but this was beyond anything people had ever seen. A figure of a man was visible on a high platform, a dark silhouette against luminous sky. Something was glittering in his hand, he moved like a conductor during an orchestral performance.
"There," Varric pointed him out. "I'll go and talk to him... Let's hope he listens..."
...
Varric was on the ground. "He didn't listen," he looked up. Solas had flung him from that platform back to where Anders was waiting. Varric's crossbow was shattered, Varric's leg also. Solas was continuing with his ritual.
"You've got to stop him, kid," Varric gave Anders a hard stare. "Or else..."
"Well..." Anders sighed. "Since everyone already thinks I blew up the Chantry... Might as well do it."
For all the work that Solas had put in to set up his ritual, it was remarkable how many weak points it had. A good push against one of the columns holding a focus crystal was enough to topple it and disrupt the whole setup. A huge explosion followed leaving half of Minrathous in ruin. Anders stood in the Fade.
"What have you done, you idiot!!!" Solas flew at him, enraged. "You brought down the end of the world!!!"
"No, it was your idea!" Anders retorted, realising that Solas couldn't actually touch him. An invisible wall was between them.
"I was trying to restore the world!"
"By destroying it?!"
"Well, yes, some sacrifices were required," Solas conceded. "But I have to free the elves! The world you know was built upon their bones!"
"Let's take it from the top then," Anders folded his arms. "A little bird told me it was you who created the Veil. Someone said that this world used to be one with the Fade, and that the elves used the Fade to keep their collective memories and wisdom. When you created the Veil, you single-handedly destroyed the elves as they no longer knew who they were."
"Yes, this is true," Solas nodded gravely. "I miscalculated. I did not realise what the Veil would do to the elves. I was trying to free them though!"
"Oh?"
"The elven gods... They were no gods! They were people, mages. Powerful mages who ruled the world. They invented the Blight, the corruption... in order to control the other elves. It made them obedient. So many were enslaved, sacrificed to the experimentation... I sought to save the people!" Solas exclaimed with pathos. "I created the Veil and trapped the false gods in the Fade so that the people could live freely in Mundus!"
"Well, that explains why darkspawn are drawn to the 'old gods' as we call them... But it doesn't explain the dragons. Darkspawn is always led by an Archdemon, a dragon with a soul of an old god, now corrupted. This doesn't add up with your elven mages, Solas."
"Grey Wardens were always going to be trouble!" Solas scowled. "You know too much!" He paced about. "Alright. There were indeed old gods. The dragons. Dragons are immortal, their souls are immortal. They are no gods though."
"Define 'god'." Anders was extremely skeptical. The whole story made no sense.
"A god is an immortal being much more powerful than regular people," Solas shrugged. "Immortality is a requirement, and this is what those elven mages didn't have."
"So why did you not just kill them?" Anders squinted. "Why create the Veil instead?"
"Because they gained immortality by then..."
"You make no sense at all, Solas." Anders was losing patience.
"Alright, alright, I don't really know how they did it... They captured dragons and subdued their souls somehow. Took on their immortality. And by doing so, they became gods. I could not kill them, so I created the Veil."
"And now you want to tear it down," Anders decided to move on. "Wouldn't it release those awful gods and undo whatever protection the Veil was giving the world?"
"My plan was to put up a new Veil just around their prison," Solas scowled. "Just a small portion of the Fade, not the whole Fade like now. But you disrupted it! That explosion tore a breach large enough to allow the gods to escape! If they are now burning down the world, it is your doing, mage!"
Anders had had enough.
"See you around, Solas," he said coldly and turned to leave.
"You'll be back," Solas said unexpectedly calmly. "You'll want help, guidance... And I am still your best lead. Ironically, it is I who is now locked in the pocket of Fade I created... I cannot leave. I did not miscalculate this... the prison works..."
...
Anders was walking in the Fade. What was he going to do now? If Solas was right, the world was in great danger. Was the breach in the Veil still open? Were demons pouring into the world through it, just like in the time of the Inquisition? He thought of Wolf and the mark on his hand with which to close the rifts. He had no such mark... And that story... the old gods... he still could not get to the root of it. Were the old gods just the dragons, then? Misused by evil elven mages? Perhaps... One thing was clear though - he got himself into an incredible mess. Again.
Second Seed, 3E410 - Well...
"Well..." Varric scowled, holding his broken leg. "Now what?"
"Now we find a way out," Anders looked around. He and Varric stood in the Fade, but it didn't look like the Fade that Anders knew. Of course the Fade had infinitely many pockets and variations, yet that part felt different somehow. It felt solid.
"This is Solas' personal space," Varric concluded when Anders told him that Fade felt different. "Weird stuff. But he's got a house somewhere here, he told me about it... The lighthouse. Look around. We find that, settle in and start drafting people."
"You don't give up, do you?" Anders shook his head. "Alright."
...
The pocket of the Fade they were in, was covered in eluvians. After a while Anders realised it was a space known as "The Crossroads". It had several large islands floating in mid-air, there were ghostly gondolas sailing from one island to another, there were spirits operating the gondola, and all of it was in a state of disrepair. Blighted growth covered all. Yet, by luck or by design, they found an eluvian that was functional, and it led them to another floating island with a lighthouse on it.
"Mind the edge!!" Anders had to grab Varric several times to prevent him from tipping off into the abyss. "I really don't know what would happen if you fell in. Solas should have installed some railings..."
Eventually they settled in.
"Right, what we need now is a number of experts," Varric was still leading, now from the infirmary wing.
"Are you planning to advertise in local newspapers? 'A hero sought to lead the war against the old gods'", Anders smirked. "I can see applicants lining up already."
"No, we've got the hero right here - that's you," Varric grinned. "We'll call you 'Rook', because 'Blondie' isn't serious enough."
"Rook," Anders raised an eyebrow. "As in - a big black bird of the Corvidae family?"
"No, as in a chess piece that tends to wreck the game," Varric grinned. "'Rook' sounds better than a 'Wrecking Ball'."
"Excellent. So all we need now is the rest of the chess set."
...
"Shadow Dragons led by a Viper? Seriously?" Anders dropped a scroll back onto a pile. To his surprise applicants did line up in reply to Varric's advertisement. Admittedly, it sounded like a treasure hunt expedition rather than an actual war against old gods. "The Demon of Vyrantium from the Antivan Crows? 'That Qunari girl' from the Lords of Fortune? A Professor of Necromancy from the Mourn Watch? Someone from the Veil Jumpers? Or Sweaters? Why not Pullovers? This is a farce, Varric! A total farce!!!" Anders scowled.
"Well, may be the names of their factions are a bit fanciful," Varric tried to be soothing. "But it's not all bad. Here's an application from your fellow Grey Warden."
"And his griffon Assan," Anders scanned the scroll. "A baby griffon. Right. Just what we needed."
"You don't think..."
"Not every Grey Warden is the same," Anders pointed out. "If he even is a Grey Warden and not a just a zoo keeper seeking fortune and glory. Aren't griffons extinct? Perhaps it's just a dog."
"Alright, alright! This will cheer you up," Varric handed him another scroll. "This is from Scout Harding. Remember her from the Inquisition? A damn good archer. Wolf was very fond of her, as I recall."
"'The Inquisition is disbanded and I'm boring my tits off with nothing to do.' Very encouraging," Anders grinned. "She's in."
"She's a dwarf," Varric pointed out.
"So?"
"When a dwarven woman tells you she's boring her tits off... It's not what you think. Stay away from her tits or else your head may go off to do stuff on its own, leaving the body behind."
"And here was me hoping to finally get that harem I always wanted..." Anders rolled his eyes. "Hmm... Let's hope the qunari girl will be more fun..."
"That depends what you call fun," Varric chuckled. "She's a dragon slayer, and she breathes fire, literally. Also... 'not fond of males', it says here. A perfect candidate for your harem."
"Sheesh..."
"The Veil Jumpers are sending a girl too though," Varric was reading another scroll. "Stop making fun of their name! It's Jumpers as in 'jumping', not 'knitting'! They are experts on ancient elven artefacts, magical anomalies and other weird stuff... You need one of them for your collection! And they are all elves... of mixed parentage... err... How mixed, it doesn't specify."
"Crossed with griffons?" Anders brought another bottle of whisky. "Or nugs? Or both? Oh why not, bring her in..."
"Mmm... I wonder why these jumpers are so keen to get rid of her though..." Varric sipped his whisky and exploded in coughs. "What is this stuff?!!!"
"Conscription ale vintage Anders," Anders grinned. "Needed to make room in the bottle. Figured I want it stronger for the times to come..."
"Stronger than this?!" Varric was wiping the tears with his sleeve. "It's like drinking fire!"
"Nah... Nothing burns quite like the Joining Cup," Anders chuckled.
"You Wardens are weird," Varric caught his breath. "But whatever."
"So... who else have we got?"
"The girl from Shadow Dragons... No, hold it!" Varric looked up. "Shut it, Blondie! She isn't called the Viper, she is a viper... Called Neve something. A private eye. Freelancer. Prosthetic leg in the shape of..."
"...a viper. I get it," Anders grinned. "She sounds like my kind of a girl. She's in."
"The rest are all men, so you won't be interested," Varric tossed the scrolls aside.
"Well, may be not for the harem... but for fighting the gods? Wasn't there a professor and his demon or something? And an assassin?"
"A Professor of Necromancy with his undead butler, yes," Varric nodded. "The butler makes excellent teacakes, apparently... actually fit for the living."
"He's in! I love teacakes."
"See? It's not all that bad..." Varric shuffled the scrolls. "Ah yes, the Crows send their regards... An assassin to join our cause. The Demon of Vyrantium. An actual demon."
"What..? Let me see." Anders sat up. "'A man and his demon...' He is an abomination. And he's imprisoned in an underwater dungeon only accessible through a secret portal. 'Free the Demon of Vyrantium and gain a master assassin for all your deadly needs!' Very fetching," Anders grinned. "Why do I feel like there's a catch?"
"It's the Crows, there's a catch, no doubt," Varric nodded. "Still... of all people, you know how it feels to be an abomination."
"The more reason to politely decline," Anders scowled.
"You don't refuse the Crows."
"Or what? They'll kill me and your little project will lose its leader?" Anders had had enough. "I said no. The Crow is out."
"Now, look here, Blondie..."
"Blondie is out too. See you around, dwarf."
Anders left the lighthouse, not forgetting to pick up his bottle of Conscription Ale from the table. The whole thing was too ridiculous to consider. Yes, the world was likely going to end, but he wasn't the man to stop it, and those 'recruits' were useless at best...
He found the eluvian leading to the crossroads. He wandered the Fade there, talked to the spirits and eventually found another working eluvian. It led to Mundus, he was told. He didn't mind where to exactly, he just wanted to be out of the Fade.
...
"Yeah, I'm a Grey Warden!" Anders stared at a thug in a bar. "You watch it, boy!" His speech was slurred slightly, but he could still see it was one thug, not two.
"Grey Wardens aren't all that tough," the thug spit. "Plenty of them hanging around the bars of Minrathous!" He made a wide gesture with his hand. Minrathous had a lot of seedy bars. "None of them fight! The Order of the Grey is rotten to the core! None of you know how to fight anymore! And you aren't even wearing the armour!"
"The griffon crest is in my blood, not on my armour, you fool!" Anders scowled, but still didn't attack. "Barman! More ale."
"That's all you Wardens are good for - drinking!" The thug wasn't giving up. "And your coin." He moved to snatch a purse from Anders' belt, but Anders wasn't drunk yet.
"Never taunt a mage!" He spat. "Imbecile."
The thug froze - literally. Anders froze him solid.
"One good knock and he'll shatter," someone said from the crowd. "It's Anders the Wrecking Ball."
Anders looked up from his ale. Varric. No one else would ever call him that.
"You want a wrecking ball? I'll give you a wrecking ball!" When Anders still had Justice living inside him, this would be the time for Justice to take control. And although Justice was long gone, his anger and recklessness still lingered... How could Justice be reckless? Simple - he never knew when the stop. These were the times when Anders would literally transform into a wrecking ball, with spirit magic streaming out of him, so that all anyone could see was a ball of blinding light...
Without Justice animating Anders' body, there was no ball of light. Still, an angry mage was a sight to behold; an angry blood mage even more so; and an angry Grey Warden blood mage was a sight best avoided, even from far. The bar was reduced to burning rubble before anyone could blink.
"A blood mage! He's a blood mage!!! Guards!!!!!" Someone screamed. Indeed, contrary to popular belief, blood magic was in fact outlawed in Tevinter. It never stopped the rich and powerful from using it behind closed doors, but public displays were frowned upon. It could also always be made into a pretext to arrest someone undesirable, such as a Grey Warden out of control.
...
"I like you but don't make it into a habit," someone spoke in an amused tone, and Anders decided to open his eyes and see who it was. "You have a remarkable physique... I always say that excercise should be compulsory for mages."
"Huh?" Anders tried to sit up but it felt like every bone in his body was broken.
"Oh please, lay still." The person moved into view. Dorian. "Your clothing is over there, although it's been reduced to scraps," he rolled his eyes. "What were you thinking, man? The guards really poured their souls into the interrogation of a blood mage."
"Is that what it was?" Anders sat his jaw back into place. "Did I tell them much?"
"That you wanted a qunari for your harem even if she breathed fire... and that dwarven tits should be left alone when they are bored... and something about sweaters... I didn't catch that one myself." Dorian was still looking at him with amusement. "What was all that about?"
"Varric," Anders shook his head to bring some clarity to his thoughts. "He wants to stop the impending end of the world."
"Oh, that..." Dorian rolled his eyes. "And you're the man for the job, I take it?"
"Aha," Anders finally managed to sit up and cast some healing magic. "Along with the titanium tits and fire-breathing qunari..."
"Charming," Dorian laughed. "I'll be watching."
"I'm not doing it," Anders shook his head.
"I see." Dorian got dressed. "Well, I'll leave you to recover. People will talk, be ready. You may need to revise your definition of a harem," he chuckled. "I have a certain reputation... but it was the only pretext that worked. The guards weren't about to relinquish their plaything quite so easily. They get a free reign when it comes to convicted blood mages... Fortunately my Magister's seal still carries some weight, even with the guard."
"I should be going," Anders tried to get up but couldn't.
"Nonsense. Considering how much I paid for you, I get to keep you for at least another day," Dorian winked. "You're safe here, which is why you are in my actual bedroom, on my actual bed. Which is why people will talk. You got yourself into a fine mess there, Blondie."
"Don't..!"
"Sorry, couldn't resist. Make yourself at home, Anders."
Dorian smiled at him and left. Anders looked around. The room was lavishly furnished, there was a bath tub in the corner and fresh clothes on a bench, coffee and sweet liquers on a side table. He noticed his bottle of Conscription Ale too, nearly empty. "So I did make enough room in it for a fresh start after all," he grinned. There was a gentle knock on the door and a young-looking elf entered, carrying a heavy breakfast tray.
"Master ordered breakfast for you," he said, setting it down. "He said not to bother you beyond that, but if you want more food, the kitchen is downstairs," he smiled. "You'll like it here. House Pavus is the best in Minrathous."
"Err... thanks, I guess..." Anders must have looked completely bewildered because the elf beamed at him and clarified:
"If you are going to be a slave, House Pavus is the best. Magister Pavus bought you from the city guard yesterday. It's all over the papers. Here - see for yourself."
The elf handed him a newspaper, smiled and left. The front page screamed in big letters:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you know Varric from previous games, you might be surprised why he is expressing himself quite so politely in this episode. This is because this forum has rules against profane or vulgar expressions. I have therefore toned down some of Varric's usual turns of phrase. For example, the title of this episode is in fact the same as the title of one of the quests in Dragon Age: Inquisition, abriged for this forum. If you want to read the unabriged version, click the title to read it on my own site. It isn't very different as I do not usually use such terms, but it is more authentic.
"Well..." Varric scowled, holding his broken leg. "Now what?"
"Now we find a way out," Anders looked around. He and Varric stood in the Fade, but it didn't look like the Fade that Anders knew. Of course the Fade had infinitely many pockets and variations, yet that part felt different somehow. It felt solid.
"This is Solas' personal space," Varric concluded when Anders told him that Fade felt different. "Weird stuff. But he's got a house somewhere here, he told me about it... The lighthouse. Look around. We find that, settle in and start drafting people."
"You don't give up, do you?" Anders shook his head. "Alright."
...
The pocket of the Fade they were in, was covered in eluvians. After a while Anders realised it was a space known as "The Crossroads". It had several large islands floating in mid-air, there were ghostly gondolas sailing from one island to another, there were spirits operating the gondola, and all of it was in a state of disrepair. Blighted growth covered all. Yet, by luck or by design, they found an eluvian that was functional, and it led them to another floating island with a lighthouse on it.
"Mind the edge!!" Anders had to grab Varric several times to prevent him from tipping off into the abyss. "I really don't know what would happen if you fell in. Solas should have installed some railings..."
Eventually they settled in.
"Right, what we need now is a number of experts," Varric was still leading, now from the infirmary wing.
"Are you planning to advertise in local newspapers? 'A hero sought to lead the war against the old gods'", Anders smirked. "I can see applicants lining up already."
"No, we've got the hero right here - that's you," Varric grinned. "We'll call you 'Rook', because 'Blondie' isn't serious enough."
"Rook," Anders raised an eyebrow. "As in - a big black bird of the Corvidae family?"
"No, as in a chess piece that tends to wreck the game," Varric grinned. "'Rook' sounds better than a 'Wrecking Ball'."
"Excellent. So all we need now is the rest of the chess set."
...
"Shadow Dragons led by a Viper? Seriously?" Anders dropped a scroll back onto a pile. To his surprise applicants did line up in reply to Varric's advertisement. Admittedly, it sounded like a treasure hunt expedition rather than an actual war against old gods. "The Demon of Vyrantium from the Antivan Crows? 'That Qunari girl' from the Lords of Fortune? A Professor of Necromancy from the Mourn Watch? Someone from the Veil Jumpers? Or Sweaters? Why not Pullovers? This is a farce, Varric! A total farce!!!" Anders scowled.
"Well, may be the names of their factions are a bit fanciful," Varric tried to be soothing. "But it's not all bad. Here's an application from your fellow Grey Warden."
"And his griffon Assan," Anders scanned the scroll. "A baby griffon. Right. Just what we needed."
"You don't think..."
"Not every Grey Warden is the same," Anders pointed out. "If he even is a Grey Warden and not a just a zoo keeper seeking fortune and glory. Aren't griffons extinct? Perhaps it's just a dog."
"Alright, alright! This will cheer you up," Varric handed him another scroll. "This is from Scout Harding. Remember her from the Inquisition? A damn good archer. Wolf was very fond of her, as I recall."
"'The Inquisition is disbanded and I'm boring my tits off with nothing to do.' Very encouraging," Anders grinned. "She's in."
"She's a dwarf," Varric pointed out.
"So?"
"When a dwarven woman tells you she's boring her tits off... It's not what you think. Stay away from her tits or else your head may go off to do stuff on its own, leaving the body behind."
"And here was me hoping to finally get that harem I always wanted..." Anders rolled his eyes. "Hmm... Let's hope the qunari girl will be more fun..."
"That depends what you call fun," Varric chuckled. "She's a dragon slayer, and she breathes fire, literally. Also... 'not fond of males', it says here. A perfect candidate for your harem."
"Sheesh..."
"The Veil Jumpers are sending a girl too though," Varric was reading another scroll. "Stop making fun of their name! It's Jumpers as in 'jumping', not 'knitting'! They are experts on ancient elven artefacts, magical anomalies and other weird stuff... You need one of them for your collection! And they are all elves... of mixed parentage... err... How mixed, it doesn't specify."
"Crossed with griffons?" Anders brought another bottle of whisky. "Or nugs? Or both? Oh why not, bring her in..."
"Mmm... I wonder why these jumpers are so keen to get rid of her though..." Varric sipped his whisky and exploded in coughs. "What is this stuff?!!!"
"Conscription ale vintage Anders," Anders grinned. "Needed to make room in the bottle. Figured I want it stronger for the times to come..."
"Stronger than this?!" Varric was wiping the tears with his sleeve. "It's like drinking fire!"
"Nah... Nothing burns quite like the Joining Cup," Anders chuckled.
"You Wardens are weird," Varric caught his breath. "But whatever."
"So... who else have we got?"
"The girl from Shadow Dragons... No, hold it!" Varric looked up. "Shut it, Blondie! She isn't called the Viper, she is a viper... Called Neve something. A private eye. Freelancer. Prosthetic leg in the shape of..."
"...a viper. I get it," Anders grinned. "She sounds like my kind of a girl. She's in."
"The rest are all men, so you won't be interested," Varric tossed the scrolls aside.
"Well, may be not for the harem... but for fighting the gods? Wasn't there a professor and his demon or something? And an assassin?"
"A Professor of Necromancy with his undead butler, yes," Varric nodded. "The butler makes excellent teacakes, apparently... actually fit for the living."
"He's in! I love teacakes."
"See? It's not all that bad..." Varric shuffled the scrolls. "Ah yes, the Crows send their regards... An assassin to join our cause. The Demon of Vyrantium. An actual demon."
"What..? Let me see." Anders sat up. "'A man and his demon...' He is an abomination. And he's imprisoned in an underwater dungeon only accessible through a secret portal. 'Free the Demon of Vyrantium and gain a master assassin for all your deadly needs!' Very fetching," Anders grinned. "Why do I feel like there's a catch?"
"It's the Crows, there's a catch, no doubt," Varric nodded. "Still... of all people, you know how it feels to be an abomination."
"The more reason to politely decline," Anders scowled.
"You don't refuse the Crows."
"Or what? They'll kill me and your little project will lose its leader?" Anders had had enough. "I said no. The Crow is out."
"Now, look here, Blondie..."
"Blondie is out too. See you around, dwarf."
Anders left the lighthouse, not forgetting to pick up his bottle of Conscription Ale from the table. The whole thing was too ridiculous to consider. Yes, the world was likely going to end, but he wasn't the man to stop it, and those 'recruits' were useless at best...
He found the eluvian leading to the crossroads. He wandered the Fade there, talked to the spirits and eventually found another working eluvian. It led to Mundus, he was told. He didn't mind where to exactly, he just wanted to be out of the Fade.
...
"Yeah, I'm a Grey Warden!" Anders stared at a thug in a bar. "You watch it, boy!" His speech was slurred slightly, but he could still see it was one thug, not two.
"Grey Wardens aren't all that tough," the thug spit. "Plenty of them hanging around the bars of Minrathous!" He made a wide gesture with his hand. Minrathous had a lot of seedy bars. "None of them fight! The Order of the Grey is rotten to the core! None of you know how to fight anymore! And you aren't even wearing the armour!"
"The griffon crest is in my blood, not on my armour, you fool!" Anders scowled, but still didn't attack. "Barman! More ale."
"That's all you Wardens are good for - drinking!" The thug wasn't giving up. "And your coin." He moved to snatch a purse from Anders' belt, but Anders wasn't drunk yet.
"Never taunt a mage!" He spat. "Imbecile."
The thug froze - literally. Anders froze him solid.
"One good knock and he'll shatter," someone said from the crowd. "It's Anders the Wrecking Ball."
Anders looked up from his ale. Varric. No one else would ever call him that.
"You want a wrecking ball? I'll give you a wrecking ball!" When Anders still had Justice living inside him, this would be the time for Justice to take control. And although Justice was long gone, his anger and recklessness still lingered... How could Justice be reckless? Simple - he never knew when the stop. These were the times when Anders would literally transform into a wrecking ball, with spirit magic streaming out of him, so that all anyone could see was a ball of blinding light...
Without Justice animating Anders' body, there was no ball of light. Still, an angry mage was a sight to behold; an angry blood mage even more so; and an angry Grey Warden blood mage was a sight best avoided, even from far. The bar was reduced to burning rubble before anyone could blink.
"A blood mage! He's a blood mage!!! Guards!!!!!" Someone screamed. Indeed, contrary to popular belief, blood magic was in fact outlawed in Tevinter. It never stopped the rich and powerful from using it behind closed doors, but public displays were frowned upon. It could also always be made into a pretext to arrest someone undesirable, such as a Grey Warden out of control.
...
"I like you but don't make it into a habit," someone spoke in an amused tone, and Anders decided to open his eyes and see who it was. "You have a remarkable physique... I always say that excercise should be compulsory for mages."
"Huh?" Anders tried to sit up but it felt like every bone in his body was broken.
"Oh please, lay still." The person moved into view. Dorian. "Your clothing is over there, although it's been reduced to scraps," he rolled his eyes. "What were you thinking, man? The guards really poured their souls into the interrogation of a blood mage."
"Is that what it was?" Anders sat his jaw back into place. "Did I tell them much?"
"That you wanted a qunari for your harem even if she breathed fire... and that dwarven tits should be left alone when they are bored... and something about sweaters... I didn't catch that one myself." Dorian was still looking at him with amusement. "What was all that about?"
"Varric," Anders shook his head to bring some clarity to his thoughts. "He wants to stop the impending end of the world."
"Oh, that..." Dorian rolled his eyes. "And you're the man for the job, I take it?"
"Aha," Anders finally managed to sit up and cast some healing magic. "Along with the titanium tits and fire-breathing qunari..."
"Charming," Dorian laughed. "I'll be watching."
"I'm not doing it," Anders shook his head.
"I see." Dorian got dressed. "Well, I'll leave you to recover. People will talk, be ready. You may need to revise your definition of a harem," he chuckled. "I have a certain reputation... but it was the only pretext that worked. The guards weren't about to relinquish their plaything quite so easily. They get a free reign when it comes to convicted blood mages... Fortunately my Magister's seal still carries some weight, even with the guard."
"I should be going," Anders tried to get up but couldn't.
"Nonsense. Considering how much I paid for you, I get to keep you for at least another day," Dorian winked. "You're safe here, which is why you are in my actual bedroom, on my actual bed. Which is why people will talk. You got yourself into a fine mess there, Blondie."
"Don't..!"
"Sorry, couldn't resist. Make yourself at home, Anders."
Dorian smiled at him and left. Anders looked around. The room was lavishly furnished, there was a bath tub in the corner and fresh clothes on a bench, coffee and sweet liquers on a side table. He noticed his bottle of Conscription Ale too, nearly empty. "So I did make enough room in it for a fresh start after all," he grinned. There was a gentle knock on the door and a young-looking elf entered, carrying a heavy breakfast tray.
"Master ordered breakfast for you," he said, setting it down. "He said not to bother you beyond that, but if you want more food, the kitchen is downstairs," he smiled. "You'll like it here. House Pavus is the best in Minrathous."
"Err... thanks, I guess..." Anders must have looked completely bewildered because the elf beamed at him and clarified:
"If you are going to be a slave, House Pavus is the best. Magister Pavus bought you from the city guard yesterday. It's all over the papers. Here - see for yourself."
The elf handed him a newspaper, smiled and left. The front page screamed in big letters:
PAVUS BUYS A BLOOD MAGE SLAVE
Left-wing Magister finally showing his colours
or was he simply sold on the mage's physique?
Buy this paper tomorrow to find out!
Left-wing Magister finally showing his colours
or was he simply sold on the mage's physique?
Buy this paper tomorrow to find out!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you know Varric from previous games, you might be surprised why he is expressing himself quite so politely in this episode. This is because this forum has rules against profane or vulgar expressions. I have therefore toned down some of Varric's usual turns of phrase. For example, the title of this episode is in fact the same as the title of one of the quests in Dragon Age: Inquisition, abriged for this forum. If you want to read the unabriged version, click the title to read it on my own site. It isn't very different as I do not usually use such terms, but it is more authentic.
Midyear, 3E410 - Magister Pavus
"As property of House Pavus, you are subject to Imperial laws," a guard in the street of Minrathous looked Anders up and down. "Which means that if you get into bar fights, I'll escort you back to your master and he'll have to pay the fine. But if you use blood magic again, I still get to skin you first," he grinned. "Are we clear? So keep your nose clean while you're here."
"Do you really know every slave in Minrathous?" Anders squinted at him. "Or are you just picking on me on principle?"
"You're kinda famous," the guard grinned. "A blood mage, a Grey Warden to boot, and a slave of Dorian Pavus... There goes his left-wing reputation! Ha! He's just like the rest of them - rotten to the core!"
...
"You should not have bought me," Anders was saying to Dorian that evening. "It ruined your efforts to abolish slavery in Tevinter. No one will listen to you now. You actually went out of your way to buy a slave."
"They will use it against me, yes," Dorian nodded. "But my efforts weren't going anywhere already. Tevinter is the only country in Thedas to still have slavery, but it is so deeply ingrained, that I alone cannot shift it. And I wasn't going to stand by and watch the city guard skin you alive... Anyway, your First Warden wants to see you," he tossed a scroll to Anders. "Since you belong to House Pavus, they send correspondence to me. They wish to 'buy your freedom', as they put it. I suppose it isn't a good thing."
"Grey Wardens aren't often sold into slavery," Anders nodded. "It is often the other way around - Grey Wardens can conscript anyone they like, but since slaves aren't 'people', they have to buy them... I met a few... mostly elves..." Anders paused, reading the scroll. "He says here that my duties as a Grey Warden call me to the Head Quarters. But I am from the Ferelden chapter, we are independent... sort of. I could never quite figure it out myself."
"When you are outside of Tevinter, you are a free man," Dorian noted. "Officially, slavery only exists here. You could swap in and out of being a slave every day by just crossing the border..."
"So why don't slaves simply escape?" Anders looked up.
"Because we are allowed to pursue them to other kingdoms," Dorian smiled wryly. "It is up to each individual kingdom to decide what they want to do with escaped slaves in case there's a claim from the owner. Slaves aren't cheap, and slave owners are all rich people with influence... In most cases if there's a claim, local authorities elsewhere put their reservations aside and hunt down the slave. So Grey Wardens buying them out makes sense... in general."
"Antivan Crows also buy recruits," Anders remembered Zevran.
"Ah, but the Crows are different," Dorian shook his head. "Once a person enters that organisation, they cannot leave, ever. Or the Crows hunt them and kill them. It doesn't matter whether that person was bought on a slave market or recruited through some other means. All Crows are slaves to the guild master, factually if not in name."
"Anyway... I should go see the First Warden," Anders tossed the scroll. "And as my master and rightful owner, you should come with me," he grinned. "Refuse to sell me. I want to see what he wants."
...
"If it isn't our illustrious patron with his slave!" A woman in high quality leathers stopped Dorian and Anders in the street. "Dorian Pavus," she hissed. "With a blood mage," she shot Anders a piercing glance and grimaced - her upbringing did not allow her to spit. "You snake!" She glared at Dorian.
"Neve," Dorian smiled. "Meet Anders, a friend of mine of some years. And yes, a Grey Warden and a blood mage. Other things too." Then, turning to Anders, he started introducing Neve: "This is..."
"The real viper of the Shadow Dragons," Anders smiled. "Charmed, I'm sure." He bowed.
"What..?" Neve was taken aback at first, but quickly recovered. "You've heard of us?"
"I have," Anders nodded. "I would have chosen a less colourful name, myself. An underground organisation that likes to put itself in the spotlight, does not stay underground for long."
"My point exactly," Dorian glared at Neve. "If you were less well known, the mere fact of me buying a slave would not have ruined our efforts by quite such a margin!"
"You should not be buying slaves if you are trying to abolish slavery!" Neve hissed again. "You put us all in danger!"
"On the contrary, I took you out of danger," Dorian objected. "Ruined your credibility, true, but took you out of danger. You were losing people. The Venatori were winning."
"The who..?" Anders squinted. "I've heard that name before, I'm sure."
"Remember Tevinter mages sucking up to that darkspawn lord that the Inquisition was fighting? The Venatori. Unfortunately not all of them were killed. They are back." Dorian shook his head.
"Why?"
"Wanting power, I suppose."
"Oh blast."
"Quite." Dorian turned to Neve. "Anders is the one that Varric wanted to lead the fight. The one you applied to join."
"A blood mage?" Neve looked him up and down. "Whip him into shape and I might consider it," she smiled at Dorian slyly. "Since he is your slave, Magister Pavus."
...
"Warden Anders!" A booming voice sounded across the bar as soon as Dorian and Anders entered. "Present yourself!"
"That's for you," Dorian smirked. "Your First Warden."
"I never met the man," Anders was peering into the depths of a dimly lit bar. "But if Alistair's account of the Head Quarters was anything to go by, I wouldn't have expected anyone with quite such a voice."
"And a moustache to go with it," Dorian pointed out a man in full armour sporting a carefully combed and waxed moustache or epic proportions. "To scare hurlocks into submission, no doubt."
"Warden Anders!" The man repeated. "You stand accused of breaking several articles of the Grey Wardens code! The use of blood magic! Insubordination! Being out of uniform! Harboring dangerous spirits! Causing catastrophic explosions in friendly cities! I hereby arrest you and take you into custody! You will be transported to the Head Quarters prison immediately! Guards!!!"
All this came out in a flood. A pair of city guards approached but didn't make any attempts to arrest Anders. Instead, they were looking at Dorian for orders.
"You cannot order an arrest of someone's property, I think you'll find," Dorian smiled pleasantly. "First Warden, I presume? I received your letter. Magister Pavus, at your service." He bowed politely.
"What? Oh yes, pretending to get sold into slavery is another charge!" The First Warden glared at Anders again and raised his voice. "I hereby command you to..."
"Guards, read this man his rights," Dorian told them calmly. "Come on, Anders, we're leaving. We're done here."
He turned to leave. Anders smiled at the First Warden and turned his back to him also.
"WHAT?!!" The booming voice of the First Warden was heard far outside of the bar. "Come back here, you scum!!!"
"It seems he just wanted a chat," Anders grinned. "Should we actually leave or..?"
"...or shall we remind him of the Order's past transgressions?" Dorian winked, smiling playfully. "Oh why not. It's going to be fun! People like him make the most peculiar hollow sound when they fall."
They turned around and walked back to the First Warden.
"9:41 Dragon - The First Warden of the Grey ordered Warden-Commander Clarel of the Orlaisian chapter to submit to a known blood mage and a Venatori agent to sacrifice half of her chapter to bind demons to the other half of her chapter, thus putting all of her Grey Wardens under direct control of a darkspawn lord. How many articles of the Grey Wardens code does that break, do you reckon?" Dorian said in a clear voice, and several people in the bar laughed. "Real Grey Wardens do not sit around sipping expensive liqueurs in the bars of Minrathous, First Warden."
"What..?" First Warden was taken aback, speaking in a much softer tone. "You... Oh I should have known... You are that Pavus..!"
"Yes, that Pavus that fought against those demons that were bound to Grey Warden mages in an old fortress in the Western Approach," Dorian squinted, his voice becoming menacing. "I am that Pavus that stood in the Fade when Warden-Commander Clarel plunged her staff into the skull of a false Archdemon summoned by that Venatori agent. I was there. I know your game first hand. And this is that Anders who stood by that Warden-Commander Asgarsen in that same very battle!"
"Anders from the Ferelden chapter?" The First Warden seemed surprised. "I wasn't briefed... But the charges..."
"All true, except faking being sold into slavery," Anders smiled. "That wasn't faked. Dorian actually bought me."
...
"That was quite a show," an elf approached Anders and Dorian in the street as they were walking back from the bar. "Good on you for not buckling in, Anders. We've been getting a lot of bull from the Head Quarters lately."
"A fellow Grey Warden?" Anders smiled at him, sensing the taint. "I don't think we've met."
"No, I am from the Anderfells chapter," the elf nodded. "The Head Quarters chapter, that is. Isn't Anderfells your home? Your name is rather telling."
"I was taken to the Ferelden Circle of Magi when I was seven," Anders shrugged. "I don't remember much of the Anderfells... apart from snow."
"We breed griffons," the elf said quietly. "I know they are said to be extinct. It isn't true. They are native to the Anderfells and there are some nests..."
"Fascinating!" Dorian beamed at him. "Come - we'll have dinner. You will be quite safe in my home, fear not..."
"I know," the elf smiled. "House Pavus is the best in Minrathous. Every slave will tell you that."
Dorian grimaced and shook his head. He just bought a slave of his own, and it was going to bite. No one would care that he did it to save a life; he was now a slaver, no better than the rest of his family, no different to any other Magister in Tevinter. He refused to marry because he preferred men, but that was no longer spectacular. His refusal to own slaves of his own, however, still was. Until he bought Anders. Dorian sighed. He knew what he was doing, he knew he'd have to start from scratch with his efforts to abolish slavery. But he chose to save his friend instead of maintaining the purity of his reputation for the sake of an unreachable goal. "Unreachable in my lifetime," he thought. All he could hope for was to saw the seed of doubt, break the mould, for someone in the future to actually make a change.
"As property of House Pavus, you are subject to Imperial laws," a guard in the street of Minrathous looked Anders up and down. "Which means that if you get into bar fights, I'll escort you back to your master and he'll have to pay the fine. But if you use blood magic again, I still get to skin you first," he grinned. "Are we clear? So keep your nose clean while you're here."
"Do you really know every slave in Minrathous?" Anders squinted at him. "Or are you just picking on me on principle?"
"You're kinda famous," the guard grinned. "A blood mage, a Grey Warden to boot, and a slave of Dorian Pavus... There goes his left-wing reputation! Ha! He's just like the rest of them - rotten to the core!"
...
"You should not have bought me," Anders was saying to Dorian that evening. "It ruined your efforts to abolish slavery in Tevinter. No one will listen to you now. You actually went out of your way to buy a slave."
"They will use it against me, yes," Dorian nodded. "But my efforts weren't going anywhere already. Tevinter is the only country in Thedas to still have slavery, but it is so deeply ingrained, that I alone cannot shift it. And I wasn't going to stand by and watch the city guard skin you alive... Anyway, your First Warden wants to see you," he tossed a scroll to Anders. "Since you belong to House Pavus, they send correspondence to me. They wish to 'buy your freedom', as they put it. I suppose it isn't a good thing."
"Grey Wardens aren't often sold into slavery," Anders nodded. "It is often the other way around - Grey Wardens can conscript anyone they like, but since slaves aren't 'people', they have to buy them... I met a few... mostly elves..." Anders paused, reading the scroll. "He says here that my duties as a Grey Warden call me to the Head Quarters. But I am from the Ferelden chapter, we are independent... sort of. I could never quite figure it out myself."
"When you are outside of Tevinter, you are a free man," Dorian noted. "Officially, slavery only exists here. You could swap in and out of being a slave every day by just crossing the border..."
"So why don't slaves simply escape?" Anders looked up.
"Because we are allowed to pursue them to other kingdoms," Dorian smiled wryly. "It is up to each individual kingdom to decide what they want to do with escaped slaves in case there's a claim from the owner. Slaves aren't cheap, and slave owners are all rich people with influence... In most cases if there's a claim, local authorities elsewhere put their reservations aside and hunt down the slave. So Grey Wardens buying them out makes sense... in general."
"Antivan Crows also buy recruits," Anders remembered Zevran.
"Ah, but the Crows are different," Dorian shook his head. "Once a person enters that organisation, they cannot leave, ever. Or the Crows hunt them and kill them. It doesn't matter whether that person was bought on a slave market or recruited through some other means. All Crows are slaves to the guild master, factually if not in name."
"Anyway... I should go see the First Warden," Anders tossed the scroll. "And as my master and rightful owner, you should come with me," he grinned. "Refuse to sell me. I want to see what he wants."
...
"If it isn't our illustrious patron with his slave!" A woman in high quality leathers stopped Dorian and Anders in the street. "Dorian Pavus," she hissed. "With a blood mage," she shot Anders a piercing glance and grimaced - her upbringing did not allow her to spit. "You snake!" She glared at Dorian.
"Neve," Dorian smiled. "Meet Anders, a friend of mine of some years. And yes, a Grey Warden and a blood mage. Other things too." Then, turning to Anders, he started introducing Neve: "This is..."
"The real viper of the Shadow Dragons," Anders smiled. "Charmed, I'm sure." He bowed.
"What..?" Neve was taken aback at first, but quickly recovered. "You've heard of us?"
"I have," Anders nodded. "I would have chosen a less colourful name, myself. An underground organisation that likes to put itself in the spotlight, does not stay underground for long."
"My point exactly," Dorian glared at Neve. "If you were less well known, the mere fact of me buying a slave would not have ruined our efforts by quite such a margin!"
"You should not be buying slaves if you are trying to abolish slavery!" Neve hissed again. "You put us all in danger!"
"On the contrary, I took you out of danger," Dorian objected. "Ruined your credibility, true, but took you out of danger. You were losing people. The Venatori were winning."
"The who..?" Anders squinted. "I've heard that name before, I'm sure."
"Remember Tevinter mages sucking up to that darkspawn lord that the Inquisition was fighting? The Venatori. Unfortunately not all of them were killed. They are back." Dorian shook his head.
"Why?"
"Wanting power, I suppose."
"Oh blast."
"Quite." Dorian turned to Neve. "Anders is the one that Varric wanted to lead the fight. The one you applied to join."
"A blood mage?" Neve looked him up and down. "Whip him into shape and I might consider it," she smiled at Dorian slyly. "Since he is your slave, Magister Pavus."
...
"Warden Anders!" A booming voice sounded across the bar as soon as Dorian and Anders entered. "Present yourself!"
"That's for you," Dorian smirked. "Your First Warden."
"I never met the man," Anders was peering into the depths of a dimly lit bar. "But if Alistair's account of the Head Quarters was anything to go by, I wouldn't have expected anyone with quite such a voice."
"And a moustache to go with it," Dorian pointed out a man in full armour sporting a carefully combed and waxed moustache or epic proportions. "To scare hurlocks into submission, no doubt."
"Warden Anders!" The man repeated. "You stand accused of breaking several articles of the Grey Wardens code! The use of blood magic! Insubordination! Being out of uniform! Harboring dangerous spirits! Causing catastrophic explosions in friendly cities! I hereby arrest you and take you into custody! You will be transported to the Head Quarters prison immediately! Guards!!!"
All this came out in a flood. A pair of city guards approached but didn't make any attempts to arrest Anders. Instead, they were looking at Dorian for orders.
"You cannot order an arrest of someone's property, I think you'll find," Dorian smiled pleasantly. "First Warden, I presume? I received your letter. Magister Pavus, at your service." He bowed politely.
"What? Oh yes, pretending to get sold into slavery is another charge!" The First Warden glared at Anders again and raised his voice. "I hereby command you to..."
"Guards, read this man his rights," Dorian told them calmly. "Come on, Anders, we're leaving. We're done here."
He turned to leave. Anders smiled at the First Warden and turned his back to him also.
"WHAT?!!" The booming voice of the First Warden was heard far outside of the bar. "Come back here, you scum!!!"
"It seems he just wanted a chat," Anders grinned. "Should we actually leave or..?"
"...or shall we remind him of the Order's past transgressions?" Dorian winked, smiling playfully. "Oh why not. It's going to be fun! People like him make the most peculiar hollow sound when they fall."
They turned around and walked back to the First Warden.
"9:41 Dragon - The First Warden of the Grey ordered Warden-Commander Clarel of the Orlaisian chapter to submit to a known blood mage and a Venatori agent to sacrifice half of her chapter to bind demons to the other half of her chapter, thus putting all of her Grey Wardens under direct control of a darkspawn lord. How many articles of the Grey Wardens code does that break, do you reckon?" Dorian said in a clear voice, and several people in the bar laughed. "Real Grey Wardens do not sit around sipping expensive liqueurs in the bars of Minrathous, First Warden."
"What..?" First Warden was taken aback, speaking in a much softer tone. "You... Oh I should have known... You are that Pavus..!"
"Yes, that Pavus that fought against those demons that were bound to Grey Warden mages in an old fortress in the Western Approach," Dorian squinted, his voice becoming menacing. "I am that Pavus that stood in the Fade when Warden-Commander Clarel plunged her staff into the skull of a false Archdemon summoned by that Venatori agent. I was there. I know your game first hand. And this is that Anders who stood by that Warden-Commander Asgarsen in that same very battle!"
"Anders from the Ferelden chapter?" The First Warden seemed surprised. "I wasn't briefed... But the charges..."
"All true, except faking being sold into slavery," Anders smiled. "That wasn't faked. Dorian actually bought me."
...
"That was quite a show," an elf approached Anders and Dorian in the street as they were walking back from the bar. "Good on you for not buckling in, Anders. We've been getting a lot of bull from the Head Quarters lately."
"A fellow Grey Warden?" Anders smiled at him, sensing the taint. "I don't think we've met."
"No, I am from the Anderfells chapter," the elf nodded. "The Head Quarters chapter, that is. Isn't Anderfells your home? Your name is rather telling."
"I was taken to the Ferelden Circle of Magi when I was seven," Anders shrugged. "I don't remember much of the Anderfells... apart from snow."
"We breed griffons," the elf said quietly. "I know they are said to be extinct. It isn't true. They are native to the Anderfells and there are some nests..."
"Fascinating!" Dorian beamed at him. "Come - we'll have dinner. You will be quite safe in my home, fear not..."
"I know," the elf smiled. "House Pavus is the best in Minrathous. Every slave will tell you that."
Dorian grimaced and shook his head. He just bought a slave of his own, and it was going to bite. No one would care that he did it to save a life; he was now a slaver, no better than the rest of his family, no different to any other Magister in Tevinter. He refused to marry because he preferred men, but that was no longer spectacular. His refusal to own slaves of his own, however, still was. Until he bought Anders. Dorian sighed. He knew what he was doing, he knew he'd have to start from scratch with his efforts to abolish slavery. But he chose to save his friend instead of maintaining the purity of his reputation for the sake of an unreachable goal. "Unreachable in my lifetime," he thought. All he could hope for was to saw the seed of doubt, break the mould, for someone in the future to actually make a change.
PAVUS IN A STAND-OFF WITH FIRST WARDEN
Magister and his blood mage Grey Warden slave
humiliate the First Warden in a Minrathous bar!
Are Grey Wardens truly rotten to the core?
Buy this paper tomorrow to find out!
Magister and his blood mage Grey Warden slave
humiliate the First Warden in a Minrathous bar!
Are Grey Wardens truly rotten to the core?
Buy this paper tomorrow to find out!
Midyear, 3E410 - Lords of Fortune
"Have you talked sense into him yet?" Varric raised his eyes above the cards he was holding. "I'll see your sovereign and raise you five."
"I am not his mommy to talk sense into her little boy," Dorian scoffed. "Five and five."
"He is your property. Twenty."
"He is his own man. Thirty. I call." Dorian put his cards on the table. A Royal Flush.
"Damn." Varric tossed his hand.
"You've got nothing," Dorian smirked. "You bluffed with a pair of sixes?" He looked at Varric in surprise.
"I keep all the good stuff up my sleeve," Varric winked. "Who cares, Dorian. The world hasn't got long to live."
"Anders doesn't want to take the fall for it," Dorian looked serious. "Because we've got nothing. How do you expect to battle ancient gods with a few adventurers? Those gods are darkspawn, you need Grey Wardens."
"And Grey Wardens are sipping liqueur in the bars of Minrathous," Varric looked at him darkly. "I've heard of your little performance."
"There's always the Ferelden chapter."
"The Ferelden chapter is currently ass-deep in darkspawn. Have you not heard? They are having another Blight."
"What? So soon? How can it be?" Dorian sat up. "Throughout history, there's always been centuries between Blights... Not twenty years!"
"Solas was right - some of the old gods escaped, and they were the ones who invented the Blight in the first place... Yeah, elven mages, not Tevinter Magisters, as the Chantry preaches. Who cares? The Blight threatens us all." Varric got up from his stool shifting the money on the table towards Dorian. "Here - buy another slave. Buy teacakes for Anders, I don't care. Nothing matters anymore."
"Varric..!"
"I'll be at the Swan if you want me..."
Dorian smiled to himself - Varric wasn't leaving Minrathous. For all his demeanour, he wasn't giving up yet.
...
Back in his mansion, Dorian went looking for Anders whom he found in the lounge in the company of several scantly clad dancers. Dorian poured himself coffee and joined them.
"Nice to see you are not abusing my hospitality," he smirked. "Have I ordered them in? That'll make some heads turn at the Magisterium, that's for sure."
"Do you wish me to get rid of them, Master?" Anders looked up with a mock expression of obedience. "I only aim to please."
"Carry on," Dorian watched them dance for a while. "We'll talk after supper," he shot a glance at Anders. "I want you in my chambers tonight."
Dorian left. Anders watched the girls dance a bit longer, then waved his hand for them to start stripping. If the party was soon to end, he didn't want to miss any of the good bits.
...
"There's a new Blight in Ferelden," Dorian said when the servants finally left. "Varric told me, and it seems to be true, I checked," he added, noticing Anders' surprise. "Don't tell me you can't feel it."
"I can't," Anders shook his head in disbelief. "I sensed that Grey Warden the other day, so I am definitely not 'cured'", he smirked. "But I sense no Archdemon. There's always an Archdemon leading the Blight."
"Well..." Dorian opened the door sharply, and an elf who had his ear to the keyhole, nearly fell in. "What were you expecting to hear, Liam?" Dorian grabbed the elf's shoulder.
"Oh Master..." Liam looked at him pleadingly.
"Oh Master what?" Dorian looked quite cross, despite his state of undress. "Who is it this time?"
"Mistress Minerva... Forgive me, Master..!" Liam was pleading. "But ever since... umm... your new partner... umm..." he shot a glance at Anders reclining on the bed. "And all the female dancers... umm... there's talk..."
"What you mean to say is that whoever brings evidence that I sleep with a woman, gets the largest payout, is that it?" He glared at Liam. "And as you can see, my partner is still a man. Get out!"
He pushed Liam out of the room and locked the door.
"It's getting quite annoying," he turned to Anders. "Ever since you started bringing girls into the house, there's a rumour that I might be inclined to change my preference. That opens up the possibility of marriage... Do you see where this is going?"
"You are turning into a highly eligible bachelor," Anders grinned. "Desirable even. You've got to have an heir, no? Magister Pavus requires a wife."
"Magister Pavus can appoint an heir without getting down to the nitty-gritty of it!" Dorian scoffed.
"Which is why you wanted me here with no clothes on," Anders grinned. "Alright. Happy to oblige. Master."
"Oh, shut it, Blondie!" Dorian glared.
"Certainly," Anders looked at him darkly. "Your word is my command."
"Alright. I am sorry. I know you hate that nickname," Dorian sighed. "Almost as much as I hate being called Master."
"Except that you actually are my Master and I am your slave," Anders pouted his lips like an annoyed toddler.
"And you have blond hair, so the nickname sticks," Dorian pointed out. "The same thing."
"Oh I suppose you are right, Dorian," Anders smiled. "Let's not argue. What was that about the Blight?"
"Well, the Blight is back, apparently, yet you cannot sense it. The other Grey Wardens cannot sense it either, I am certain, otherwise they would not be sitting in the bars of Minrathous in quite such numbers." Dorian paused, pouring whisky for them both. "Something isn't right, and I think I know what it is. The Blight has changed."
"The elven gods that Solas spoke of, are leading it," Anders nodded. "That's bad."
"Ferelden will be fine because Alistair doesn't just rely on that sense alone," Dorian raised a toast.
"But the North... Oh blast..." Anders shook his head, then tipped the whisky into his mouth. "Oh alright... Tell Varric I'll do it..."
"That's what we like to hear," Dorian smiled. "Come here, my lover, I still say you have a beautiful physique..."
...
"Lords of Fortune - that sounds like a band of pirates," Anders was talking to a tall qunari girl walking in front of him. Or at least he was trying to talk to her - she wasn't saying much.
"No," she answered.
"Not pirates? Hmm... What then? Treasure hunters?"
"Yes."
"Are you always so eloquent?"
"No."
He wasn't getting anywhere with her, so he gave up. She led him to a dank cellar in a part of Minrathous that even Grey Wardens tended to avoid.
"Through here," she pointed to a hole in the wall, indicating that Anders should go first. He shivered and squeezed through, the qunari followed. "This is he, boss," she said to someone standing in the dark. "The Grey Warden."
"Indeed," Anders heard a vaguely familiar voice. "I wasn't certain when you said that he was Pavus' lover... Three nugs and a captain, wasn't it, Anders?" A woman in her forties stepped out into the light.
"Striking as always, Isabela," Anders grinned. "You were the captain though."
"The Pearl."
"Kirkwall."
"Those were the days," Isabela laughed heartily. "And people thought it was Wolf with me then... and it was you, all along... a whole different Warden altogether."
"The Pearl is in Denerim though," someone said from the dark.
"There's more than one pearl in the sea, darling," Isabela replied, not taking her eyes off Anders. "As there's more than one Warden..."
Anders felt eyes on him, he felt being tested. The Pearl in Kirkwall was not a well-known establishment, but then again he could not afford the Blooming Rose. And yes, he had heard the story of a Warden, a captain and three nugs at The Pearl in Denerim during the last Blight, but that was before his time. He wondered if it was about Wolf and Isabela... and may be it was. The lady seemed to be particularly fond of nugs.
"What brings you here, darling?" Isabela stood before Anders, looking into his eyes. "What do you want with the Lords of Fortune?"
"I want your qunari girl," he said without flinching.
"Oh, is that all?" Isabela smiled. "Taash isn't fond of men, you know."
"And neither am I, so we have something in common," Anders returned her smile.
"Well played," Isabela grinned. "This is the man," she said to someone standing in the dark, still looking at Anders. "If anyone can do it, it'll be he."
"We'll see how far he gets," a middle-aged qunari woman came into the light. "I entrust my daughter to you, I expect you to keep her safe. Is that clear?"
"Mother!!" The girl that led Anders to that gathering, seemed to be surprised. "What are you saying?!"
"You go with him, Taash," the older woman answered. "It's time."
"For what?" Taash looked annoyed, more than anything.
"For you to step forward," the mother replied. "I've shielded you long enough... You need a man to tame your fire breath now... this man... A human mage twice your age... and why not. Take care of her, mage," she looked at Anders. "The weight of this world rests on your shoulders," she smiled.
...
The way back to Dorian's mansion was just as silent as the way to the meeting. Taash didn't say anything but followed Anders, and Anders couldn't think of anything to say. The meeting did not turn out the way he expected. From Taash's letter he thought that the Lords of Fortune were a bunch of thieves having trouble with a qunari girl among them - Taash. She wrote that she wanted to leave, that she was an accomplished fighter, a fire-breathing dragon slayer, which Anders thought was just bragging because what would a dragon slayer do among thieves? But after the meeting he thought that the letter was not from Taash but from her mother and that the Lords of Fortune were actually pirates, not thieves. What he still could not understand, is why Taash's mother wanted her daughter to join him and what she meant exactly about expecting him to tame Taash's fire? Surely she didn't expect him to... Maker's breath! But it was too late to refuse.
Varric and Dorian were in the salon when Anders and Taash arrived.
"And here comes our dragon slayer!" Varric got up as lively as his broken leg would permit. "Welcome!"
"Who are you?" Taash looked around.
"We are just entourage," Dorian stepped forward. "This is my house, so I get to welcome the guests, no more. Use it as a base. The servants will show you to your room. The kitchen is downstairs. Feel free to go almost anywhere, except my private chambers."
"I don't actually stay here," Varric took over. "I am Varric. I do get to advise."
"On what?" Taash was staring him down.
"The letter was from her mother," Anders joined in. "Taash needs to be briefed. You do it, Varric, it's your project. I've had enough for today."
Anders left and Dorian followed. Varric invited Taash to sit down.
"The world is under threat of destruction and we aim to stop it," he said, but Taash didn't flinch. "There will be dragons to fight... the Blight... monsters... mages..."
"I do dragons," Taash said and smiled. "Your world will be safe with me, dwarf."
"Have you talked sense into him yet?" Varric raised his eyes above the cards he was holding. "I'll see your sovereign and raise you five."
"I am not his mommy to talk sense into her little boy," Dorian scoffed. "Five and five."
"He is your property. Twenty."
"He is his own man. Thirty. I call." Dorian put his cards on the table. A Royal Flush.
"Damn." Varric tossed his hand.
"You've got nothing," Dorian smirked. "You bluffed with a pair of sixes?" He looked at Varric in surprise.
"I keep all the good stuff up my sleeve," Varric winked. "Who cares, Dorian. The world hasn't got long to live."
"Anders doesn't want to take the fall for it," Dorian looked serious. "Because we've got nothing. How do you expect to battle ancient gods with a few adventurers? Those gods are darkspawn, you need Grey Wardens."
"And Grey Wardens are sipping liqueur in the bars of Minrathous," Varric looked at him darkly. "I've heard of your little performance."
"There's always the Ferelden chapter."
"The Ferelden chapter is currently ass-deep in darkspawn. Have you not heard? They are having another Blight."
"What? So soon? How can it be?" Dorian sat up. "Throughout history, there's always been centuries between Blights... Not twenty years!"
"Solas was right - some of the old gods escaped, and they were the ones who invented the Blight in the first place... Yeah, elven mages, not Tevinter Magisters, as the Chantry preaches. Who cares? The Blight threatens us all." Varric got up from his stool shifting the money on the table towards Dorian. "Here - buy another slave. Buy teacakes for Anders, I don't care. Nothing matters anymore."
"Varric..!"
"I'll be at the Swan if you want me..."
Dorian smiled to himself - Varric wasn't leaving Minrathous. For all his demeanour, he wasn't giving up yet.
...
Back in his mansion, Dorian went looking for Anders whom he found in the lounge in the company of several scantly clad dancers. Dorian poured himself coffee and joined them.
"Nice to see you are not abusing my hospitality," he smirked. "Have I ordered them in? That'll make some heads turn at the Magisterium, that's for sure."
"Do you wish me to get rid of them, Master?" Anders looked up with a mock expression of obedience. "I only aim to please."
"Carry on," Dorian watched them dance for a while. "We'll talk after supper," he shot a glance at Anders. "I want you in my chambers tonight."
Dorian left. Anders watched the girls dance a bit longer, then waved his hand for them to start stripping. If the party was soon to end, he didn't want to miss any of the good bits.
...
"There's a new Blight in Ferelden," Dorian said when the servants finally left. "Varric told me, and it seems to be true, I checked," he added, noticing Anders' surprise. "Don't tell me you can't feel it."
"I can't," Anders shook his head in disbelief. "I sensed that Grey Warden the other day, so I am definitely not 'cured'", he smirked. "But I sense no Archdemon. There's always an Archdemon leading the Blight."
"Well..." Dorian opened the door sharply, and an elf who had his ear to the keyhole, nearly fell in. "What were you expecting to hear, Liam?" Dorian grabbed the elf's shoulder.
"Oh Master..." Liam looked at him pleadingly.
"Oh Master what?" Dorian looked quite cross, despite his state of undress. "Who is it this time?"
"Mistress Minerva... Forgive me, Master..!" Liam was pleading. "But ever since... umm... your new partner... umm..." he shot a glance at Anders reclining on the bed. "And all the female dancers... umm... there's talk..."
"What you mean to say is that whoever brings evidence that I sleep with a woman, gets the largest payout, is that it?" He glared at Liam. "And as you can see, my partner is still a man. Get out!"
He pushed Liam out of the room and locked the door.
"It's getting quite annoying," he turned to Anders. "Ever since you started bringing girls into the house, there's a rumour that I might be inclined to change my preference. That opens up the possibility of marriage... Do you see where this is going?"
"You are turning into a highly eligible bachelor," Anders grinned. "Desirable even. You've got to have an heir, no? Magister Pavus requires a wife."
"Magister Pavus can appoint an heir without getting down to the nitty-gritty of it!" Dorian scoffed.
"Which is why you wanted me here with no clothes on," Anders grinned. "Alright. Happy to oblige. Master."
"Oh, shut it, Blondie!" Dorian glared.
"Certainly," Anders looked at him darkly. "Your word is my command."
"Alright. I am sorry. I know you hate that nickname," Dorian sighed. "Almost as much as I hate being called Master."
"Except that you actually are my Master and I am your slave," Anders pouted his lips like an annoyed toddler.
"And you have blond hair, so the nickname sticks," Dorian pointed out. "The same thing."
"Oh I suppose you are right, Dorian," Anders smiled. "Let's not argue. What was that about the Blight?"
"Well, the Blight is back, apparently, yet you cannot sense it. The other Grey Wardens cannot sense it either, I am certain, otherwise they would not be sitting in the bars of Minrathous in quite such numbers." Dorian paused, pouring whisky for them both. "Something isn't right, and I think I know what it is. The Blight has changed."
"The elven gods that Solas spoke of, are leading it," Anders nodded. "That's bad."
"Ferelden will be fine because Alistair doesn't just rely on that sense alone," Dorian raised a toast.
"But the North... Oh blast..." Anders shook his head, then tipped the whisky into his mouth. "Oh alright... Tell Varric I'll do it..."
"That's what we like to hear," Dorian smiled. "Come here, my lover, I still say you have a beautiful physique..."
...
"Lords of Fortune - that sounds like a band of pirates," Anders was talking to a tall qunari girl walking in front of him. Or at least he was trying to talk to her - she wasn't saying much.
"No," she answered.
"Not pirates? Hmm... What then? Treasure hunters?"
"Yes."
"Are you always so eloquent?"
"No."
He wasn't getting anywhere with her, so he gave up. She led him to a dank cellar in a part of Minrathous that even Grey Wardens tended to avoid.
"Through here," she pointed to a hole in the wall, indicating that Anders should go first. He shivered and squeezed through, the qunari followed. "This is he, boss," she said to someone standing in the dark. "The Grey Warden."
"Indeed," Anders heard a vaguely familiar voice. "I wasn't certain when you said that he was Pavus' lover... Three nugs and a captain, wasn't it, Anders?" A woman in her forties stepped out into the light.
"Striking as always, Isabela," Anders grinned. "You were the captain though."
"The Pearl."
"Kirkwall."
"Those were the days," Isabela laughed heartily. "And people thought it was Wolf with me then... and it was you, all along... a whole different Warden altogether."
"The Pearl is in Denerim though," someone said from the dark.
"There's more than one pearl in the sea, darling," Isabela replied, not taking her eyes off Anders. "As there's more than one Warden..."
Anders felt eyes on him, he felt being tested. The Pearl in Kirkwall was not a well-known establishment, but then again he could not afford the Blooming Rose. And yes, he had heard the story of a Warden, a captain and three nugs at The Pearl in Denerim during the last Blight, but that was before his time. He wondered if it was about Wolf and Isabela... and may be it was. The lady seemed to be particularly fond of nugs.
"What brings you here, darling?" Isabela stood before Anders, looking into his eyes. "What do you want with the Lords of Fortune?"
"I want your qunari girl," he said without flinching.
"Oh, is that all?" Isabela smiled. "Taash isn't fond of men, you know."
"And neither am I, so we have something in common," Anders returned her smile.
"Well played," Isabela grinned. "This is the man," she said to someone standing in the dark, still looking at Anders. "If anyone can do it, it'll be he."
"We'll see how far he gets," a middle-aged qunari woman came into the light. "I entrust my daughter to you, I expect you to keep her safe. Is that clear?"
"Mother!!" The girl that led Anders to that gathering, seemed to be surprised. "What are you saying?!"
"You go with him, Taash," the older woman answered. "It's time."
"For what?" Taash looked annoyed, more than anything.
"For you to step forward," the mother replied. "I've shielded you long enough... You need a man to tame your fire breath now... this man... A human mage twice your age... and why not. Take care of her, mage," she looked at Anders. "The weight of this world rests on your shoulders," she smiled.
...
The way back to Dorian's mansion was just as silent as the way to the meeting. Taash didn't say anything but followed Anders, and Anders couldn't think of anything to say. The meeting did not turn out the way he expected. From Taash's letter he thought that the Lords of Fortune were a bunch of thieves having trouble with a qunari girl among them - Taash. She wrote that she wanted to leave, that she was an accomplished fighter, a fire-breathing dragon slayer, which Anders thought was just bragging because what would a dragon slayer do among thieves? But after the meeting he thought that the letter was not from Taash but from her mother and that the Lords of Fortune were actually pirates, not thieves. What he still could not understand, is why Taash's mother wanted her daughter to join him and what she meant exactly about expecting him to tame Taash's fire? Surely she didn't expect him to... Maker's breath! But it was too late to refuse.
Varric and Dorian were in the salon when Anders and Taash arrived.
"And here comes our dragon slayer!" Varric got up as lively as his broken leg would permit. "Welcome!"
"Who are you?" Taash looked around.
"We are just entourage," Dorian stepped forward. "This is my house, so I get to welcome the guests, no more. Use it as a base. The servants will show you to your room. The kitchen is downstairs. Feel free to go almost anywhere, except my private chambers."
"I don't actually stay here," Varric took over. "I am Varric. I do get to advise."
"On what?" Taash was staring him down.
"The letter was from her mother," Anders joined in. "Taash needs to be briefed. You do it, Varric, it's your project. I've had enough for today."
Anders left and Dorian followed. Varric invited Taash to sit down.
"The world is under threat of destruction and we aim to stop it," he said, but Taash didn't flinch. "There will be dragons to fight... the Blight... monsters... mages..."
"I do dragons," Taash said and smiled. "Your world will be safe with me, dwarf."
Last Seed, 3E410 - People issues
"Anders!" someone plunged into Anders' midriff knocking the air out of him. "Good to see you!"
"Lace Harding," Anders coughed. "My favourite dwarf."
"This is a nice mansion!" She let go of him and looked around. "Dorian has really done well for himself!"
"That's his ancestral home, he didn't do anything to get it," Anders shook his head. "Some people are born rich."
"Yeah..." Harding was examining the tapestries and paintings lining the walls. "Not like us. Remember Redcliffe?"
"How can I forget?" Anders smirked. "I even swam across the lake once."
"I know," Harding laughed. "'Anders escaped from the Tower again!' - we heard that often enough... People were even betting on the date of your next attempt..." She laughed at the memory. "And then you stopped escaping for a year or more."
"Solitary confinement," Anders nodded. "I was imprisoned."
"Oh no!" Harding looked shocked. "Really? But you were just a kid!"
"Fifteen," Anders nodded. "There was a cat that used to visit... on my sixteenth birthday he brought me cake. Then I knew something was wrong."
"Cake? From a cat?"
"Quite. Possession by a Pride Demon. The demon tried to switch to me... The cat form wasn't good enough, it appeared."
"What happened?" Harding stared at him in fascination.
"The templars slayed him. But not before he took out four of them," Anders grinned. "I was so proud."
"Don't tell me he jumped into you instead!"
"No, I wasn't about to let him. I was proud for the cat."
"Was that when..?" She cut herself off.
"When what? When I turned to blood magic?" Anders squinted. "No, that was much later. Unrelated."
"Oh."
Harding stopped staring at the paintings and tapestries and faced Anders.
"So what about it? Have you got a plan?"
"Nope."
"Didn't think so."
"But you still came."
"The Blight is rising in Ferelden," Harding grew serious. "We've got to do something."
"Yeah... We'll try."
They talked a bit longer, mostly reminiscing, then went to their respective quarters for the night. They didn't have enough people to do anything, and so Anders decided to focus on the people issue first.
...
"Are you gay?" Taash cornered Anders a few days later.
"No," he shook his head.
"But you sleep with Dorian."
"I sometimes sleep in Dorian's room," Anders corrected her. "It's not the same."
"I don't want to sleep with you."
"That's great, the feeling is mutual," Anders gave her a long look. "What brought that on? I never suggested..."
"My mother," Taash was her usual laconic self. "She said you were the man."
"I remember," Anders shivered involuntarily. "But the man for what? Do you know?"
"If it's about the cherry, you're too late," Taash smirked. "Done that ages ago. The bloke was useless, I can do better myself."
"Not if you want kids," Anders smirked, and regretted it the same instance.
"Who said anything about kids?!" Taash glared at him. "I want no human pygmies, thanks!"
"That's not what she meant then," Anders sighed with relief. Perhaps he didn't need a qunari in his harem after all.
"You are a mage."
"Yes."
"And Dorian is a mage."
"Yes."
"Magic tickles. I want to see how two mages do it."
"WHAT?!" Anders couldn't believe his ears. "No! You don't get to see how two mages do it! That's private!"
"I thought you said you weren't gay," Taash grinned.
"I'm not," Anders shook his head. "It's complicated..." He paused, then turned to her with a question. "What are you getting at, Taash?"
"I want to be a man."
"Err..."
"You're a mage - make it happen."
"It does not work like that..."
"Then my mother was wrong about you," Taash looked down at Anders with disappointment. "You are not the man."
"Perhaps that's not what she meant."
"I know, she meant the opposite."
"Meaning?"
"Make a woman out of me," Taash shrugged. "Make me act like a woman. Do woman stuff. Sleep with men. I dunno."
"I am really only interested in a dragon slayer for the purpose of saving the world," Anders said slowly. "Making a woman out of you is a much larger task."
"Then we are in agreement," Taash gave him a broad smile. "I'm only here for the dragons."
...
"Oh hello! I am Bellara!!!" A very excited elven woman entered Dorian's mansion. "From the Veil Jumpers! The elves! We are elves! We investigate magical anomalies, abnormalities, aberrations, inconsistencies, misconfigurations, misalignments, mysterious phenomena, ancient artefacts, resonant spaces and subspaces, spacial inversions, space warps, teleportation malfunctions, energy beam deficiencies, field dynamics, spirit transference..."
"Welcome, Bellara!" Dorian came at her all smiles, speaking slightly louder than she. "Welcome to Minrathous! Have you had a tour of the city yet? There's so much to see! Why, I shall arrange it at once!"
"Oh my goodness!" Bellara focused her attention on him and everyone else in the room resumed breathing. "This is so exciting! I've heard so much about Tevinter magic! And aren't you a Magister? You are, aren't you? A real Tevinter Magister? I mean, I know magic of course, good lord, we do so much magic all the time, but elven magic is different, although the resonance is always the same, or so they claim, but I found there's always a bias, a shift in intonation..."
"Maker's breath! Is she just going to talk those evil gods to death?" Anders looked at Varric. "She'll probably pull it off, too."
"And that is why the Veil Jumpers were so keen for her to join us," Varric shook his head. "Maker help us all."
...
"Warden," an elf in shabby leathers sat down next to Anders in a dimly lit Minrathous bar.
"Warden," Anders returned his greeting.
"I hear you're on a mission," the elf said softly.
"Yeah... three girls don't make a harem though," Anders smirked.
"The First Warden issued a warrant for your arrest."
"Not surprising."
"You can't leave Tevinter. Best not even leave Minrathous."
"Best not leave my Master's mansion, yet here we are." Anders stared into space in front of him. A poster with his likeness and words "BLOOD MAGE" sprayed over it was making his point. "What a mess."
"The Blight has changed," the elf lowered his voice to near whisper. "We can't sense it as well as before."
"Yet it is no less deadly."
"Even more so."
"Leads?" Anders shot the elf a sideways glance.
"Anderfels, Head Quarters," the elf mouthed. "There was an attack, have you heard?"
"That's news to me," Anders shook his head. "Darkspawn in a Grey Wardens fortress? That's grotesque."
"A fortress staffed with paper pushers and bureaucrats," the elf shrugged. "A good kick and it'll fall."
"Too bad for the symbolism, but I couldn't care less."
"The archives must be protected."
"Memories of the Grey," Anders nodded. "Yes, but the vault is more important."
"Don't you have some Archdemon blood in Ferelden?" The elf looked over his shoulder making sure that no one was listening.
"We might do," Anders grinned. "Wolf didn't trust the HQ much. Especially when they sent him an accountant by way of reinforcements."
"So. Let the HQ fall. The Grey will continue." The elf got up from his stool. "I hear one of us applied to join you. The one with the baby griffon, yes. Full of himself worse than the First Warden. But his griffon is making a mess at the HQ... Take him, please."
"Look around - the griffon won't survive Minrathous."
"On the contrary. Plenty of rats down here, plenty of nesting spots too. Griffons are tough, even baby ones. He'll learn. As for the man attached to the griffon... see him as a mole. He'll be in touch with the HQ, you'll be keeping an ear to the ground."
"Or he'll sell me out to the First Warden and I'll find my ass in prison again." Anders smirked and shook his head. "Thanks but I'll pass."
"Take him," the elf insisted. "You need that griffon."
"How do you know all this?" Anders turned on his stool to look the elf in the eye.
"Darkspawn in the Deep Roads has changed," the elf said gravely. "I have... sources with the Legion of the Dead. It's a Blight, but the Archdemon isn't of the usual kind..."
"How many Wardens have you got?" Anders dropped his voice again.
"Of those that can fight? Some. Not enough," the elf sighed. "The fortress will fall, many will die. There are also other rumours... that darkspawn wants to capture Wardens alive."
"To put them in prison and bleed periodically. Yeah." Anders shivered, remembering his own experience of a darkspawn prison almost twenty years previously. "Red lyrium..."
"Sshhhh..." The elf stopped him. "So you know. It's true then. That's bad." The elf shook his head. "The Venatori here in Minrathous... you've heard the name, yes? They are involved."
"That's a lead," Anders smiled. "Alright, send me your griffon... I'll see what I can do about the mole."
...
A few days later there was a determined knock on the door of the Pavus Manor followed by an even more determined voice: "I'm your Grey Warden! Open up!"
"You must be Davrin," the butler opened the door. "Please come in. You may await Magister Pavus in the drawing room, help yourself to the refreshments. We do hope that your companion is house trained."
By the time the butler finished his speech, they stood in the drawing room.
"Magister Pavus..?" Davrin seemed perplexed.
"The Lord of this manor, yes," the butler beamed at him. "Did you not know whose door you were knocking on, Warden?"
The butler bowed politely and closed the doors of the drawing room behind him, leaving Davrin and his baby griffon to wait.
Davrin scoffed and started pacing the room. Then he got bored and decided to look at the paintings. "Just like the library rooms at the Head Quarters," he scoffed again. "Boring. What was that about refreshments?" He looked around, found the liqueurs and prepared to wait.
...
"He is as you expected," the butler entered the salon where Dorian and Anders were playing chess. "I let him wait in the drawing room... I thought you might want to interview him first."
"Does he actually have a griffon with him?" Taash looked up from her book on dragon history.
"A small one, yes," the butler nodded. "I cannot guarantee the state of the carpets after this visit, My Lord," he turned to Dorian. "Griffons are birds and birds..."
"...ruin carpets, yes," Dorian smirked. "Not to worry, Cedric, we'll replace the carpets if they cannot be cleaned."
"Very well, sir," Cedric bowed and left.
"Well?" Dorian looked at Anders. "Shall we wait for Varric or do you want to handle him yourself?"
"I'll go," Anders got up.
...
"Warden Davrin, I presume?" Anders entered the drawing room and found Davrin reclining on a chaise-longue with a drink. "Please don't get up. What brings you to Minrathous?"
"This is excellent whisky," Davrin looked at Anders through his glass. "Magister Pavus."
"Thank you," Anders smiled thinly and sat down.
"I am here to answer an advertisement of someone named Varric regarding a monster hunting expedition," Davrin said in a self-assured tone. "I did not expect to be meeting a Magister." He said with a hiss, as if spitting.
"Varric is busy today, you can talk to me instead," Anders smiled. "Why does a Grey Warden wish to join a monster hunting expedition? Aren't Grey Wardens supposed to guard the land against darkspawn instead?"
"In Peace, Vigilance," Davrin proclaimed gravely. "Our motto. There's no Blight now, so we don't have much to do. Monster hunting is my hobby."
"Is it now? Fascinating!" Anders beamed at him. "Have you been with the Wardens long?"
"Three years now," Davrin grinned. "Always wanted to hunt monsters. I am a Dalish elf, see, and hunting game was just... well... not glorious enough. But Grey Wardens - they stand for something! In War, Victory! In Peace, Vigilance! In Death, Sacrifice!"
"I see," Anders smiled. "So you enjoy fighting darkspawn then?"
"They are monsters, they'll do!" Davrin gave him a broad smile. "I'm a good fighter! A great fighter even! Never met any darkspawn I could not defeat!"
"Obviously, since you are sitting here," Anders nodded. "What of your griffon?"
"They are Grey Wardens' pets, they are," Davrin petted his griffon. "They squawk a lot, and I don't really see much point... but this one is just a baby, he'll improve, I hope..."
"Does the First Warden know that you want to join us?" Anders asked nonchalantly.
"Oh yeah, he gave me leave," Davrin nodded. "There's no Blight, and so..."
"I see." Anders got up to leave. "Varric will be here tomorrow, he will brief you on the details. I'll have the butler show you to your room. It opens onto the yard for your griffon to... well... you'll figure it out. Dinner is at eight in the dining room, breakfast at nine in the breakfast bar, the kitchens are downstairs, feel free to go anywhere except my private chambers... Probably also not to the quarters of the other guests... We'll talk more later, I'm sure, Warden."
Anders left. "He's all yours," he winked to the butler waiting outside. "He thinks I'm Magister Pavus."
...
"How is it that he didn't sense you're a Grey Warden?" Varric asked when Anders told him and Dorian about the interview.
"Not all Wardens are so attentive to it," Anders shrugged. "The taint in darkspawn in strong, we can't ignore it, but the taint in fellow Wardens is very mild in comparison. If he's too busy reciting the motto, he may miss it."
"Why do we even want him?" Varric shook his head. "He seems useless at best..."
"He's in contact with the Head Quarters," Anders looked at him and also shook his head. "I am still not convinced it's a good idea, but Antoine asked me to take him. I trust Antoine. We won't be hiding who I am, but I'll let Davrin walk into it himself. The First Warden cannot touch me here."
"You should be sleeping with me from now on," Dorian looked straight at him. "In my room. I have the best bodyguards. The First Warden might try to have you removed if he cannot bring you in."
"He's right," Varric nodded. "We need you alive, Blondie."
"Anders!" someone plunged into Anders' midriff knocking the air out of him. "Good to see you!"
"Lace Harding," Anders coughed. "My favourite dwarf."
"This is a nice mansion!" She let go of him and looked around. "Dorian has really done well for himself!"
"That's his ancestral home, he didn't do anything to get it," Anders shook his head. "Some people are born rich."
"Yeah..." Harding was examining the tapestries and paintings lining the walls. "Not like us. Remember Redcliffe?"
"How can I forget?" Anders smirked. "I even swam across the lake once."
"I know," Harding laughed. "'Anders escaped from the Tower again!' - we heard that often enough... People were even betting on the date of your next attempt..." She laughed at the memory. "And then you stopped escaping for a year or more."
"Solitary confinement," Anders nodded. "I was imprisoned."
"Oh no!" Harding looked shocked. "Really? But you were just a kid!"
"Fifteen," Anders nodded. "There was a cat that used to visit... on my sixteenth birthday he brought me cake. Then I knew something was wrong."
"Cake? From a cat?"
"Quite. Possession by a Pride Demon. The demon tried to switch to me... The cat form wasn't good enough, it appeared."
"What happened?" Harding stared at him in fascination.
"The templars slayed him. But not before he took out four of them," Anders grinned. "I was so proud."
"Don't tell me he jumped into you instead!"
"No, I wasn't about to let him. I was proud for the cat."
"Was that when..?" She cut herself off.
"When what? When I turned to blood magic?" Anders squinted. "No, that was much later. Unrelated."
"Oh."
Harding stopped staring at the paintings and tapestries and faced Anders.
"So what about it? Have you got a plan?"
"Nope."
"Didn't think so."
"But you still came."
"The Blight is rising in Ferelden," Harding grew serious. "We've got to do something."
"Yeah... We'll try."
They talked a bit longer, mostly reminiscing, then went to their respective quarters for the night. They didn't have enough people to do anything, and so Anders decided to focus on the people issue first.
...
"Are you gay?" Taash cornered Anders a few days later.
"No," he shook his head.
"But you sleep with Dorian."
"I sometimes sleep in Dorian's room," Anders corrected her. "It's not the same."
"I don't want to sleep with you."
"That's great, the feeling is mutual," Anders gave her a long look. "What brought that on? I never suggested..."
"My mother," Taash was her usual laconic self. "She said you were the man."
"I remember," Anders shivered involuntarily. "But the man for what? Do you know?"
"If it's about the cherry, you're too late," Taash smirked. "Done that ages ago. The bloke was useless, I can do better myself."
"Not if you want kids," Anders smirked, and regretted it the same instance.
"Who said anything about kids?!" Taash glared at him. "I want no human pygmies, thanks!"
"That's not what she meant then," Anders sighed with relief. Perhaps he didn't need a qunari in his harem after all.
"You are a mage."
"Yes."
"And Dorian is a mage."
"Yes."
"Magic tickles. I want to see how two mages do it."
"WHAT?!" Anders couldn't believe his ears. "No! You don't get to see how two mages do it! That's private!"
"I thought you said you weren't gay," Taash grinned.
"I'm not," Anders shook his head. "It's complicated..." He paused, then turned to her with a question. "What are you getting at, Taash?"
"I want to be a man."
"Err..."
"You're a mage - make it happen."
"It does not work like that..."
"Then my mother was wrong about you," Taash looked down at Anders with disappointment. "You are not the man."
"Perhaps that's not what she meant."
"I know, she meant the opposite."
"Meaning?"
"Make a woman out of me," Taash shrugged. "Make me act like a woman. Do woman stuff. Sleep with men. I dunno."
"I am really only interested in a dragon slayer for the purpose of saving the world," Anders said slowly. "Making a woman out of you is a much larger task."
"Then we are in agreement," Taash gave him a broad smile. "I'm only here for the dragons."
...
"Oh hello! I am Bellara!!!" A very excited elven woman entered Dorian's mansion. "From the Veil Jumpers! The elves! We are elves! We investigate magical anomalies, abnormalities, aberrations, inconsistencies, misconfigurations, misalignments, mysterious phenomena, ancient artefacts, resonant spaces and subspaces, spacial inversions, space warps, teleportation malfunctions, energy beam deficiencies, field dynamics, spirit transference..."
"Welcome, Bellara!" Dorian came at her all smiles, speaking slightly louder than she. "Welcome to Minrathous! Have you had a tour of the city yet? There's so much to see! Why, I shall arrange it at once!"
"Oh my goodness!" Bellara focused her attention on him and everyone else in the room resumed breathing. "This is so exciting! I've heard so much about Tevinter magic! And aren't you a Magister? You are, aren't you? A real Tevinter Magister? I mean, I know magic of course, good lord, we do so much magic all the time, but elven magic is different, although the resonance is always the same, or so they claim, but I found there's always a bias, a shift in intonation..."
"Maker's breath! Is she just going to talk those evil gods to death?" Anders looked at Varric. "She'll probably pull it off, too."
"And that is why the Veil Jumpers were so keen for her to join us," Varric shook his head. "Maker help us all."
...
"Warden," an elf in shabby leathers sat down next to Anders in a dimly lit Minrathous bar.
"Warden," Anders returned his greeting.
"I hear you're on a mission," the elf said softly.
"Yeah... three girls don't make a harem though," Anders smirked.
"The First Warden issued a warrant for your arrest."
"Not surprising."
"You can't leave Tevinter. Best not even leave Minrathous."
"Best not leave my Master's mansion, yet here we are." Anders stared into space in front of him. A poster with his likeness and words "BLOOD MAGE" sprayed over it was making his point. "What a mess."
"The Blight has changed," the elf lowered his voice to near whisper. "We can't sense it as well as before."
"Yet it is no less deadly."
"Even more so."
"Leads?" Anders shot the elf a sideways glance.
"Anderfels, Head Quarters," the elf mouthed. "There was an attack, have you heard?"
"That's news to me," Anders shook his head. "Darkspawn in a Grey Wardens fortress? That's grotesque."
"A fortress staffed with paper pushers and bureaucrats," the elf shrugged. "A good kick and it'll fall."
"Too bad for the symbolism, but I couldn't care less."
"The archives must be protected."
"Memories of the Grey," Anders nodded. "Yes, but the vault is more important."
"Don't you have some Archdemon blood in Ferelden?" The elf looked over his shoulder making sure that no one was listening.
"We might do," Anders grinned. "Wolf didn't trust the HQ much. Especially when they sent him an accountant by way of reinforcements."
"So. Let the HQ fall. The Grey will continue." The elf got up from his stool. "I hear one of us applied to join you. The one with the baby griffon, yes. Full of himself worse than the First Warden. But his griffon is making a mess at the HQ... Take him, please."
"Look around - the griffon won't survive Minrathous."
"On the contrary. Plenty of rats down here, plenty of nesting spots too. Griffons are tough, even baby ones. He'll learn. As for the man attached to the griffon... see him as a mole. He'll be in touch with the HQ, you'll be keeping an ear to the ground."
"Or he'll sell me out to the First Warden and I'll find my ass in prison again." Anders smirked and shook his head. "Thanks but I'll pass."
"Take him," the elf insisted. "You need that griffon."
"How do you know all this?" Anders turned on his stool to look the elf in the eye.
"Darkspawn in the Deep Roads has changed," the elf said gravely. "I have... sources with the Legion of the Dead. It's a Blight, but the Archdemon isn't of the usual kind..."
"How many Wardens have you got?" Anders dropped his voice again.
"Of those that can fight? Some. Not enough," the elf sighed. "The fortress will fall, many will die. There are also other rumours... that darkspawn wants to capture Wardens alive."
"To put them in prison and bleed periodically. Yeah." Anders shivered, remembering his own experience of a darkspawn prison almost twenty years previously. "Red lyrium..."
"Sshhhh..." The elf stopped him. "So you know. It's true then. That's bad." The elf shook his head. "The Venatori here in Minrathous... you've heard the name, yes? They are involved."
"That's a lead," Anders smiled. "Alright, send me your griffon... I'll see what I can do about the mole."
...
A few days later there was a determined knock on the door of the Pavus Manor followed by an even more determined voice: "I'm your Grey Warden! Open up!"
"You must be Davrin," the butler opened the door. "Please come in. You may await Magister Pavus in the drawing room, help yourself to the refreshments. We do hope that your companion is house trained."
By the time the butler finished his speech, they stood in the drawing room.
"Magister Pavus..?" Davrin seemed perplexed.
"The Lord of this manor, yes," the butler beamed at him. "Did you not know whose door you were knocking on, Warden?"
The butler bowed politely and closed the doors of the drawing room behind him, leaving Davrin and his baby griffon to wait.
Davrin scoffed and started pacing the room. Then he got bored and decided to look at the paintings. "Just like the library rooms at the Head Quarters," he scoffed again. "Boring. What was that about refreshments?" He looked around, found the liqueurs and prepared to wait.
...
"He is as you expected," the butler entered the salon where Dorian and Anders were playing chess. "I let him wait in the drawing room... I thought you might want to interview him first."
"Does he actually have a griffon with him?" Taash looked up from her book on dragon history.
"A small one, yes," the butler nodded. "I cannot guarantee the state of the carpets after this visit, My Lord," he turned to Dorian. "Griffons are birds and birds..."
"...ruin carpets, yes," Dorian smirked. "Not to worry, Cedric, we'll replace the carpets if they cannot be cleaned."
"Very well, sir," Cedric bowed and left.
"Well?" Dorian looked at Anders. "Shall we wait for Varric or do you want to handle him yourself?"
"I'll go," Anders got up.
...
"Warden Davrin, I presume?" Anders entered the drawing room and found Davrin reclining on a chaise-longue with a drink. "Please don't get up. What brings you to Minrathous?"
"This is excellent whisky," Davrin looked at Anders through his glass. "Magister Pavus."
"Thank you," Anders smiled thinly and sat down.
"I am here to answer an advertisement of someone named Varric regarding a monster hunting expedition," Davrin said in a self-assured tone. "I did not expect to be meeting a Magister." He said with a hiss, as if spitting.
"Varric is busy today, you can talk to me instead," Anders smiled. "Why does a Grey Warden wish to join a monster hunting expedition? Aren't Grey Wardens supposed to guard the land against darkspawn instead?"
"In Peace, Vigilance," Davrin proclaimed gravely. "Our motto. There's no Blight now, so we don't have much to do. Monster hunting is my hobby."
"Is it now? Fascinating!" Anders beamed at him. "Have you been with the Wardens long?"
"Three years now," Davrin grinned. "Always wanted to hunt monsters. I am a Dalish elf, see, and hunting game was just... well... not glorious enough. But Grey Wardens - they stand for something! In War, Victory! In Peace, Vigilance! In Death, Sacrifice!"
"I see," Anders smiled. "So you enjoy fighting darkspawn then?"
"They are monsters, they'll do!" Davrin gave him a broad smile. "I'm a good fighter! A great fighter even! Never met any darkspawn I could not defeat!"
"Obviously, since you are sitting here," Anders nodded. "What of your griffon?"
"They are Grey Wardens' pets, they are," Davrin petted his griffon. "They squawk a lot, and I don't really see much point... but this one is just a baby, he'll improve, I hope..."
"Does the First Warden know that you want to join us?" Anders asked nonchalantly.
"Oh yeah, he gave me leave," Davrin nodded. "There's no Blight, and so..."
"I see." Anders got up to leave. "Varric will be here tomorrow, he will brief you on the details. I'll have the butler show you to your room. It opens onto the yard for your griffon to... well... you'll figure it out. Dinner is at eight in the dining room, breakfast at nine in the breakfast bar, the kitchens are downstairs, feel free to go anywhere except my private chambers... Probably also not to the quarters of the other guests... We'll talk more later, I'm sure, Warden."
Anders left. "He's all yours," he winked to the butler waiting outside. "He thinks I'm Magister Pavus."
...
"How is it that he didn't sense you're a Grey Warden?" Varric asked when Anders told him and Dorian about the interview.
"Not all Wardens are so attentive to it," Anders shrugged. "The taint in darkspawn in strong, we can't ignore it, but the taint in fellow Wardens is very mild in comparison. If he's too busy reciting the motto, he may miss it."
"Why do we even want him?" Varric shook his head. "He seems useless at best..."
"He's in contact with the Head Quarters," Anders looked at him and also shook his head. "I am still not convinced it's a good idea, but Antoine asked me to take him. I trust Antoine. We won't be hiding who I am, but I'll let Davrin walk into it himself. The First Warden cannot touch me here."
"You should be sleeping with me from now on," Dorian looked straight at him. "In my room. I have the best bodyguards. The First Warden might try to have you removed if he cannot bring you in."
"He's right," Varric nodded. "We need you alive, Blondie."
Last Seed, 3E410 - Professor of Necromancy
"We are going to Nevarra," Dorian said to Anders at breakfast. "I got a letter from an acquaintance at the Grand Necropolis - they have problems with red lyrium... Very unusual. I suspect the Venatori, but I cannot imagine what they'd be wanting with the dead. So you and I are going to investigate."
"Nevarra," Anders mused. "Cassandra was from Nevarra... She mentioned her uncle being a... what's the word... a necromancer of some sort. Tending to the dead. Whom they don't cremate but bury... so odd."
"They don't just bury them... they embalm the corpses and wrap them in cloth, or they allow the flesh to decay and then reanimate the skeletons... It may be odd, but they do honour their dead, the same as we," Dorian pointed out. "There are powerful mages among them... nothing evil. So we should help."
"Of course we'll help," Anders agreed. "Where red lyrium and the Venatori are involved, Blight and darkspawn won't be far, it's right up our alley. Might give us a lead. I hope you still remember how to fight, Magister Pavus," he smirked.
...
Grand Necropolis was indeed grand. Anders had never seen burial chambers that weren't in ruin, or burial chambers where animated skeletons were sweeping the floors, clearing rubble or serving drinks instead of attacking anyone on sight. He and Dorian were greeted by a solemn apprentice that looked and behaved like a monk, and Anders thought that perhaps it took a certain level of detachment from worldly affairs to feel at home in such a place.
The apprentice led them into the depths of the necropolis to meet the person who requested their assistance - Professor Emmrich Volkarin.
"I really don't understand what anyone could want with the dead," he said with a sigh. "Of course, there is always a possibility of curses and demons, but it is much easier to find both on the surface... We've never dealt with red lyrium before, it is quite a peculiar substance, and we can all feel the evil in it... it's hard to explain..." He looked at Anders and his face lit up. "But you are a Grey Warden, are you not? Forgive me, I should not have forgone proper introductions... Indeed, Dorian did mention a friend... You are exactly who we need, then!"
He led them through a maze of corridors until they reached a locked door.
"It's here," the professor turned to them. "We locked this hall because it's carnage inside. Red lyrium crystals all over the place, as well as dead bodies. No, the fighting is already done..." He smiled, noticing surprise on Anders' and Dorian's faces. "That's not why I called you. We do not understand what killed all those Venatori. I was hoping you could shed some light on that... as well as perhaps we'll discover how they got in."
He unlocked the doors. The hall was indeed covered in blood, red lyrium and bodies.
"The blood isn't congealing," Dorian noted. "It is either blighted or..."
"No, red lyrium is blighted, the blood is fresh," Anders looked around. "Someone was trying to perform a blood magic ritual but it went wrong."
"Oh! We are very much against blood magic!" The professor was dismayed. "It is disrespecting the dead!"
"It might do," Anders nodded. "It depends..." Dorian put a hand on his shoulder - not now. "Err... Yeah, quite right, this was likely one of those disrespecting rituals," Anders corrected himself. "Seeing that they had to sneak in. And use red lyrium..."
"But who interrupted it? And who killed all the Venatori?" The professor was still looking quite perplexed. "Can you sense any darkspawn, Warden?"
"No darkspawn here," Anders smiled reassuringly. "No, it's like I said - the corruption is only in the red lyrium. My guess would be that they tried to summon the spirit of one of the people entombed here and make a demon out of it."
"This is very worrying," the professor was checking the inscriptions on the tombs. "This hall houses many great mages from our Order. Any of them, if corrupted, could make for a powerful demon!"
"What's behind that door?" Anders stopped at another large locked door. "I sense something there."
"Do you..?" The professor gave Anders a long look. "How?"
"I am a mage, and like you, I can sense spirits," Anders shrugged.
"But I sense nothing behind that door," the professor shook his head. "Why is your wrist bleeding?"
"Err..." Anders pulled down his sleeve but it was too late.
"Just who is your friend Grey Warden, Dorian?" The professor gave Dorian a very stern look. "You know what we think..."
"I know," Dorian nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I should have told you, Emmrich, I am sorry. I suppose the cat's out of the bag now. Anders is a blood mage. Nothing like the Venatori, I assure you, but he is not shirking from using blood magic when he thinks it's the right tool for the job."
"You cannot sense anything behind that door without blood," Anders looked at the professor, no longer hiding his bleeding wrist. "But it only takes a few drops to see clearly. There's a demon in there. A powerful demon, Pride probably or something like it. If that demon considers this hall its home, it would have killed the intruders. Perhaps even the intruders tried to bind it to one of them... I've seen it happen." He shivered, recalling the ritual the Grey Wardens of Orlais used to bind demons to mages at the cost of a life.
"Are you thinking..?" Dorian realised what he was talking about. "Then who was the sacrifice?"
"One of them, perhaps?" Anders shrugged. "Or may be they found a way to use red lyrium instead of blood?"
"No, that ritual calls for blood, not lyrium," the professor shook his head, surprising them all. "We disapprove of it of course, but it doesn't mean we are ignorant of it. That massacre of Grey Wardens didn't go unnoticed in our circles. That particular ritual requires blood. However, I can see several ways to modify it to use souls of the departed instead..."
"Then this is what they were after," Dorian nodded. "They wanted to bind that demon using the souls of the departed entombed in this hall. And the demon disagreed."
"Alright," the professor seemed satisfied. "We still need to understand how they got in..." He looked around. "We do have guards, you know. You think you could just walk in here, but you are wrong. Spirits watch all visitors and intervene when necessary. Spirits should have caught them, they should have seen their intent. Unless..." One of the bodies attracted his attention, he turned it over and found a disembodied hand. "The Hand of Glory," he picked it up. "Unbelievable."
"What's that?" Dorian asked softly, realising that the professor was in a trance.
"Oh... That's a very powerful artefact," the professor jerked out of his reverie. "It renders the person who carries it invisible to spirits, it unlocks any door and thus allows passage anywhere the person wishes. And this particular Hand of Glory is so powerful that it would blind the spirits to a whole group of people walking close to the one who carries it... and this is why the Venatori could walk these halls unchallenged." He nodded and stashed the Hand of Glory in his satchel. "I'll take it for safekeeping... and study," he looked at his companions and smiled. "This closes the matter."
"But what about the demon behind this door?" Anders squinted at him. "Shouldn't we kill it?"
"We can't kill it," the professor shook his head. "I know what's behind this door. Not because I can sense it... but I know. You weren't supposed to find out."
"Well... it's your problem, I guess," Anders shrugged.
"We... will take it from here," the professor smiled. "Thank you both."
...
"Well, that wasn't what I expected," Dorian shook his head when they finally returned to Minrathous. "I wonder what Emmrich is hiding..."
"How well do you know him?" Anders looked up.
"I've known him for years, but we were never close friends. Polite acquaintances at best. That Hand of Glory had some meaning to him personally, wouldn't you say?" Dorian mused.
"I'd say he didn't expect to find it in the possession of those Venatori," Anders nodded. "I'd say he knew exactly what it was."
"Agreed. But it is none of our business." Dorian closed the topic.
"Did you say the name of that professor was Emmrich something?" Varric looked up from a scroll. "Emmrich Volkarin? He applied to join our merry band. Here is his letter."
"Did he now?" Dorian laughed. "The good professor is getting bored in the Grand Necropolis! Why, we should invite him here. He is a very powerful mage," Dorian added, looking at Anders. "Knowledgeable, too. If a bit formal and old-fashioned. I bet he already figured out what is at stake here, and by the look of things, we've just been interviewed..." Dorian laughed. "Oh Emmrich. So smooth."
"I wonder if we passed the test," Anders smirked. "I guess we'll find out."
"We are going to Nevarra," Dorian said to Anders at breakfast. "I got a letter from an acquaintance at the Grand Necropolis - they have problems with red lyrium... Very unusual. I suspect the Venatori, but I cannot imagine what they'd be wanting with the dead. So you and I are going to investigate."
"Nevarra," Anders mused. "Cassandra was from Nevarra... She mentioned her uncle being a... what's the word... a necromancer of some sort. Tending to the dead. Whom they don't cremate but bury... so odd."
"They don't just bury them... they embalm the corpses and wrap them in cloth, or they allow the flesh to decay and then reanimate the skeletons... It may be odd, but they do honour their dead, the same as we," Dorian pointed out. "There are powerful mages among them... nothing evil. So we should help."
"Of course we'll help," Anders agreed. "Where red lyrium and the Venatori are involved, Blight and darkspawn won't be far, it's right up our alley. Might give us a lead. I hope you still remember how to fight, Magister Pavus," he smirked.
...
Grand Necropolis was indeed grand. Anders had never seen burial chambers that weren't in ruin, or burial chambers where animated skeletons were sweeping the floors, clearing rubble or serving drinks instead of attacking anyone on sight. He and Dorian were greeted by a solemn apprentice that looked and behaved like a monk, and Anders thought that perhaps it took a certain level of detachment from worldly affairs to feel at home in such a place.
The apprentice led them into the depths of the necropolis to meet the person who requested their assistance - Professor Emmrich Volkarin.
"I really don't understand what anyone could want with the dead," he said with a sigh. "Of course, there is always a possibility of curses and demons, but it is much easier to find both on the surface... We've never dealt with red lyrium before, it is quite a peculiar substance, and we can all feel the evil in it... it's hard to explain..." He looked at Anders and his face lit up. "But you are a Grey Warden, are you not? Forgive me, I should not have forgone proper introductions... Indeed, Dorian did mention a friend... You are exactly who we need, then!"
He led them through a maze of corridors until they reached a locked door.
"It's here," the professor turned to them. "We locked this hall because it's carnage inside. Red lyrium crystals all over the place, as well as dead bodies. No, the fighting is already done..." He smiled, noticing surprise on Anders' and Dorian's faces. "That's not why I called you. We do not understand what killed all those Venatori. I was hoping you could shed some light on that... as well as perhaps we'll discover how they got in."
He unlocked the doors. The hall was indeed covered in blood, red lyrium and bodies.
"The blood isn't congealing," Dorian noted. "It is either blighted or..."
"No, red lyrium is blighted, the blood is fresh," Anders looked around. "Someone was trying to perform a blood magic ritual but it went wrong."
"Oh! We are very much against blood magic!" The professor was dismayed. "It is disrespecting the dead!"
"It might do," Anders nodded. "It depends..." Dorian put a hand on his shoulder - not now. "Err... Yeah, quite right, this was likely one of those disrespecting rituals," Anders corrected himself. "Seeing that they had to sneak in. And use red lyrium..."
"But who interrupted it? And who killed all the Venatori?" The professor was still looking quite perplexed. "Can you sense any darkspawn, Warden?"
"No darkspawn here," Anders smiled reassuringly. "No, it's like I said - the corruption is only in the red lyrium. My guess would be that they tried to summon the spirit of one of the people entombed here and make a demon out of it."
"This is very worrying," the professor was checking the inscriptions on the tombs. "This hall houses many great mages from our Order. Any of them, if corrupted, could make for a powerful demon!"
"What's behind that door?" Anders stopped at another large locked door. "I sense something there."
"Do you..?" The professor gave Anders a long look. "How?"
"I am a mage, and like you, I can sense spirits," Anders shrugged.
"But I sense nothing behind that door," the professor shook his head. "Why is your wrist bleeding?"
"Err..." Anders pulled down his sleeve but it was too late.
"Just who is your friend Grey Warden, Dorian?" The professor gave Dorian a very stern look. "You know what we think..."
"I know," Dorian nodded, looking somewhat embarrassed. "I should have told you, Emmrich, I am sorry. I suppose the cat's out of the bag now. Anders is a blood mage. Nothing like the Venatori, I assure you, but he is not shirking from using blood magic when he thinks it's the right tool for the job."
"You cannot sense anything behind that door without blood," Anders looked at the professor, no longer hiding his bleeding wrist. "But it only takes a few drops to see clearly. There's a demon in there. A powerful demon, Pride probably or something like it. If that demon considers this hall its home, it would have killed the intruders. Perhaps even the intruders tried to bind it to one of them... I've seen it happen." He shivered, recalling the ritual the Grey Wardens of Orlais used to bind demons to mages at the cost of a life.
"Are you thinking..?" Dorian realised what he was talking about. "Then who was the sacrifice?"
"One of them, perhaps?" Anders shrugged. "Or may be they found a way to use red lyrium instead of blood?"
"No, that ritual calls for blood, not lyrium," the professor shook his head, surprising them all. "We disapprove of it of course, but it doesn't mean we are ignorant of it. That massacre of Grey Wardens didn't go unnoticed in our circles. That particular ritual requires blood. However, I can see several ways to modify it to use souls of the departed instead..."
"Then this is what they were after," Dorian nodded. "They wanted to bind that demon using the souls of the departed entombed in this hall. And the demon disagreed."
"Alright," the professor seemed satisfied. "We still need to understand how they got in..." He looked around. "We do have guards, you know. You think you could just walk in here, but you are wrong. Spirits watch all visitors and intervene when necessary. Spirits should have caught them, they should have seen their intent. Unless..." One of the bodies attracted his attention, he turned it over and found a disembodied hand. "The Hand of Glory," he picked it up. "Unbelievable."
"What's that?" Dorian asked softly, realising that the professor was in a trance.
"Oh... That's a very powerful artefact," the professor jerked out of his reverie. "It renders the person who carries it invisible to spirits, it unlocks any door and thus allows passage anywhere the person wishes. And this particular Hand of Glory is so powerful that it would blind the spirits to a whole group of people walking close to the one who carries it... and this is why the Venatori could walk these halls unchallenged." He nodded and stashed the Hand of Glory in his satchel. "I'll take it for safekeeping... and study," he looked at his companions and smiled. "This closes the matter."
"But what about the demon behind this door?" Anders squinted at him. "Shouldn't we kill it?"
"We can't kill it," the professor shook his head. "I know what's behind this door. Not because I can sense it... but I know. You weren't supposed to find out."
"Well... it's your problem, I guess," Anders shrugged.
"We... will take it from here," the professor smiled. "Thank you both."
...
"Well, that wasn't what I expected," Dorian shook his head when they finally returned to Minrathous. "I wonder what Emmrich is hiding..."
"How well do you know him?" Anders looked up.
"I've known him for years, but we were never close friends. Polite acquaintances at best. That Hand of Glory had some meaning to him personally, wouldn't you say?" Dorian mused.
"I'd say he didn't expect to find it in the possession of those Venatori," Anders nodded. "I'd say he knew exactly what it was."
"Agreed. But it is none of our business." Dorian closed the topic.
"Did you say the name of that professor was Emmrich something?" Varric looked up from a scroll. "Emmrich Volkarin? He applied to join our merry band. Here is his letter."
"Did he now?" Dorian laughed. "The good professor is getting bored in the Grand Necropolis! Why, we should invite him here. He is a very powerful mage," Dorian added, looking at Anders. "Knowledgeable, too. If a bit formal and old-fashioned. I bet he already figured out what is at stake here, and by the look of things, we've just been interviewed..." Dorian laughed. "Oh Emmrich. So smooth."
"I wonder if we passed the test," Anders smirked. "I guess we'll find out."
Last Seed, 3E410 - Dragon
"You lied to me!" Davrin was fuming. "You said you were Magister Pavus! You didn't say you were a Grey Warden! And there's an arrest warrant out on you as well!"
"I never said I was Magister Pavus," Anders replied coldly. "You assumed I was Magister Pavus. You should have sensed that I was a Grey Warden right from the start. You are a disgrace."
"How dare you!" Davrin was growing angrier by the minute. People started betting on blows. "If I had known..!"
"You should have known," Anders still betrayed no emotion. "However, if you wish to leave, then leave."
"I am NOT leaving!!!" Davrin exploded. "I am here to hunt monsters! Not to take rubbish from an inferior Warden who should be in prison! Not to take rubbish from a slave!"
"Alright." Anders turned around and walked away. Bets on punches doubled.
"Hey!!! You don't just walk away from me, boy!!!" Davrin yelled.
Anders did not react. He walked to the other end of the salon and poured himself a cup of tea. Servants moved away from where he was sitting. Taash looked up from her dragon book.
"You are NOT a Grey Warden!" Davrin seemed to have decided on a line of argument. "You are a disgrace! I'll cut you down where you stand!!!" And before anyone could intervene, he drew his sword and charged Anders. Most people inhaled sharply. Varric grinned. Anders flicked his wrist freezing Davrin solid mid-jump. He then took out his Arcane Sphere and shattered Davrin's sword before Davrin came back to life.
"Never taunt a mage," Anders said calmly. "Especially one holding a wrecking ball."
Davrin cooled off and walked away but everyone could see that the confrontation wasn't over.
...
Anders moved to the room next to Dorian which was a part of the same suite. Dorian ordered his bodyguards to guard them both.
"I don't expect assassins in broad daylight," he said. "It is more likely they sneak in at night. They should think twice trying to get to my personal chambers... I still say you'd be safer in my room, but I understand your wish for privacy."
"I'll take my chances," Anders nodded. "You know I'm not..."
"I know," Dorian smirked. "But when have I ever..?"
"Never."
"Well then," Dorian shrugged. "And since it's all just smoke and mirrors..."
"The room next to yours will be fine."
One night Anders' theory was put to a test. An assassin sneaked past the guards or perhaps entered through an attic window, and got as far as the Master Suite. Then Dorian's personal guards raised an alarm. The assassin was apprehended.
"Antivan Crows, well, well!" Dorian looked over the assassin, now safely locked up in the dungeon. "I am honoured. But of course you were not after me."
"Your slave, the Grey Warden," the assassin nodded. "If you think I'll tell you more, you are mistaken. I don't know anything more. He was my target and I failed, so you can kill me now, or else the Crows will."
"Yes, I know how you operate," Dorian agreed. "We'll keep you under observation for a bit. I expect the Crows will try again. Let's see how many of your guild mates we can assemble here. We do have a lot of empty cells."
Dorian doubled the guards around his suite and raised their wages. "With every apprehended Crow, you get another raise," he said. Nothing motivated better than a promise of a raise.
In the weeks that followed the Crows tried several times to get to Anders, and each time the assassin was apprehended and thrown into the dungeon. It was going so well that Anders and the others started to relax and got busy. They didn't have any solid leads on the escaped elven gods, but they had to start somewhere. Red lyrium was definitely a lead, the Venatori also, and both were pointing to Minrathous, that is, somewhere right under the noses of our heroes. And so when all lines of polite inquiry were exhausted, they decided to take the fight to the Venatori, literally. One of those dens, one of those safe houses would have some documents, some clues, some information on the escaped gods, they hoped. "When it is unclear how to proceed, proceed with what is clear," Varric would declare whenever one of them voiced any doubts. "We need to find escaped ancient gods... That's an impossible task! We've got to start somewhere..." He would say.
"So, let me get this straight," Bellara spoke quite firmly one evening, looking at Varric. "You have no clue what you are doing. This is not an expedition to study elven artefacts. This is nothing like what your advertisement promised," she glared. "And while I have no plans to leave, I do resent the deceit."
"Agreed," Davrin joined in. "This is not a monster hunting expedition either!"
"And we've seen no dragons so far!" Taash nodded.
"Well, at least it's better than being bored," Harding smiled. "I'm not disappointed. I didn't expect anything in particular, though. I don't understand why you thought this was a study of elven artefacts, Bellara," she shot her a glance. "And I don't see any mention of hunting monsters here either, Davrin," she looked straight at him. "Perhaps you just saw what you wanted to see... read between the lines or something."
"No, I think we didn't!" Davrin exclaimed hotly. "Where's that notice? Let's review!"
"That advert was quite literal, Varric," Professor Volkarin smiled. "Which is why no one believed it. They all thought you were exaggerating... they all read in it what they wanted to read." He looked at Bellara and Davrin across the table. "How very clever of you."
"Sometimes the truth is more fantastic than any fantasy," Varric grinned. "But to be fair to Taash - we have not seen any dragons yet. But I am certain there will be some in the future."
"You never said this enterprise would be lead by a disgraced Grey Warden," Davrin looked at Varric darkly. "That's essential information!"
"And you never asked during the interview," Varric shrugged. "Besides, he wasn't yet disgraced at the time of writing..."
"Can we just stop arguing?" Bellara raised her voice and blushed for some reason. "Professor Volkarin is right. We imagined things... we never asked questions... I know I didn't... I also talk too much..." She stared at her plate.
"Please call me Emmrich, everyone," Professor Volkarin said cheerfully. "It's time to drop ceremony, yes, please, I insist. We should become a team if we want to get anywhere... Since the task before us is quite impossible as it is, not just impossible to believe, but plain impossible."
"I suppose Grey Wardens have always accepted all kinds of riff-raff into their ranks..." Davrin glared at Anders. "The First Warden is furious with you, Anders. You burned down his favourite bar."
"Oh, I am so relieved to earn your forgiveness..." Anders glared back. "Like, really."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Davrin gave him a broad smile of superiority. "I won't arrest you. Yet. But I'm watching you, mage!" He glared again.
Dorian laughed. Varric shook his head. Professor Volkarin made a note in his diary.
"I'm with Anders," Taash said unexpectedly. "My mother was right - he's the man. Didn't try to make me into a woman... a wise choice," she grinned. "He knows his stuff and his magic tickles."
"What..?" Anders was perplexed. "That's..."
"You talk in your sleep, Kadash," Taash smiled.
"Right, shall we perhaps return to the matter of finding escaped elven gods?" Dorian cleared his throat. "Before other embarrassing revelations come to light?" He shot Taash a glance. "The qunari don't do discretion... mostly... I was quite surprised by it myself at some point..." he smiled to the memory.
"Here's to the Iron Bull! May he rest in peace," Varric raised a toast. "He was a good one."
"Always fun to have around," Anders seconded the toast.
"The best spy we've had," Harding joined in. "Even if he betrayed us in the end."
"He didn't; he never lied about his duties," Anders objected. "He always said he was faithful to the Qun. So when he had to make a choice... he did what we should have expected."
"I didn't like that I had to kill him," Dorian said gravely. "But he came at me..."
"He knew your power, Dorian," Varric nodded. "The mage that held the party together."
They fell silent for a minute, honouring their late friend, then drank their toasts. Taash was watching in fascination, then straightened up and drank a toast with them. To the Qun.
After that evening they redoubled their efforts in tracking down and engaging every Venatori cell in Minrathous hoping for clues pointing to something larger than a network of blood mages. Yet all their efforts appeared in vain, apart from the fact that removing Venatori was useful in itself, like clearing puss from a wound. And then something unexpected happened: a dragon attacked Minrathous.
"A dragon! An actual dragon!!" Taash ran into the salon and everyone looked up. "Do you hear it? The roar! The mayhem! It's out there thrashing the city!!!"
She ran out again, with everyone following. The dragon had to be stopped.
...
"It was a blighted dragon," Taash was cleaning black blood off her axes and armour as if it was the most repulsive thing in the world, and it probably was. "They blighted the dragon!" She was furious. "The nerve!!" She hissed, accidentally setting curtains on fire with her breath. "They captured a dragon and blighted it!!!" She roared.
"We'll find them, Taash," Harding wasn't afraid of the flames, just careful. "Don't burn down the house."
"Sorry," Taash tried to calm down. "It's just... dragons are majestic creatures! Proud! Powerful! Intelligent! Dragons don't get blighted like other animals, did you know that? They are too smart for it!"
"Dragons are monsters!" Davrin shook his head, he seemed to be as angry as Taash, for very different reasons. "Archdemons are dragons! They lead the Blight! Grey Wardens slay Archdemons! And sacrifice their lives for that! Become heroes! I should have died!"
"You failed to kill that dragon, n'wah!" Taash came down hard on him. "The dragon flew off! Have you gone blind?!"
"The dragon did fly off," Professor Volkarin stood between them. "You must stop your hostilities. We lacked focus today, and that is why the dragon got away, but not before it laid waste to Minrathous. We must focus."
"I'll focus!" Taash and Davrin cried in unison, each launching an attack on the other, and both being repelled by professor's conjured orb.
"I cannot allow any further infighting," he said, looking at them in turn. "Calm down."
"Is everyone alright?" Varric entered the room, his recently broken leg still slowing him down. "Where is Anders?"
"I cannot find him anywhere," Dorian stood behind Varric. "I cannot find his corpse either," he looked worried.
That really cooled off the tensions.
"I can search through the Veil," Bellara brought a large artefact from her room. "If he passed through, there will be a ripple."
"You won't find him this way, Bellara," professor shook his head. "With so many dead in the dragon attack, there's a storm in the Veil right now."
Bellara still tried to work her artefact, filling the room with the faint green glow of the Veil magic, but after a while she had to give up - the professor was right.
"So what do we do?" She looked up.
"We elect a new leader," Davrin said with confidence. "We are dealing with the Blight, so you need a Grey Warden - a real Grey Warden! I shall assume command." He straightened up, stomach in, chest out.
"No." Taash spit fire into a vase.
"I qualify," Davrin glared at her.
"No!" Harding shook her head.
"I am the real Warden!" Davrin raised his voice.
"I said no!" One punch in the jaw was all it took and Davrin rolled around on the floor. "Ugh..." Taash looked at him with disgust. "A real Warden my foot!"
"We should eat and rest for now..." Dorian stepped forward. "As best we can..." he looked down at Davrin. "Tomorrow we'll mount a proper search... call in some favours... hire a private eye if we have to..."
"If you have any of his blood..." Professor Volkarin said softly. "There are rituals... we can trace him with that..."
"Blood magic," Dorian sighed. "We may have to... I thought you'd disapprove?" He looked at the professor with a question.
"Ordinarily, yes," he nodded. "But sometimes it is the only right tool for the job..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You lied to me!" Davrin was fuming. "You said you were Magister Pavus! You didn't say you were a Grey Warden! And there's an arrest warrant out on you as well!"
"I never said I was Magister Pavus," Anders replied coldly. "You assumed I was Magister Pavus. You should have sensed that I was a Grey Warden right from the start. You are a disgrace."
"How dare you!" Davrin was growing angrier by the minute. People started betting on blows. "If I had known..!"
"You should have known," Anders still betrayed no emotion. "However, if you wish to leave, then leave."
"I am NOT leaving!!!" Davrin exploded. "I am here to hunt monsters! Not to take rubbish from an inferior Warden who should be in prison! Not to take rubbish from a slave!"
"Alright." Anders turned around and walked away. Bets on punches doubled.
"Hey!!! You don't just walk away from me, boy!!!" Davrin yelled.
Anders did not react. He walked to the other end of the salon and poured himself a cup of tea. Servants moved away from where he was sitting. Taash looked up from her dragon book.
"You are NOT a Grey Warden!" Davrin seemed to have decided on a line of argument. "You are a disgrace! I'll cut you down where you stand!!!" And before anyone could intervene, he drew his sword and charged Anders. Most people inhaled sharply. Varric grinned. Anders flicked his wrist freezing Davrin solid mid-jump. He then took out his Arcane Sphere and shattered Davrin's sword before Davrin came back to life.
"Never taunt a mage," Anders said calmly. "Especially one holding a wrecking ball."
Davrin cooled off and walked away but everyone could see that the confrontation wasn't over.
...
Anders moved to the room next to Dorian which was a part of the same suite. Dorian ordered his bodyguards to guard them both.
"I don't expect assassins in broad daylight," he said. "It is more likely they sneak in at night. They should think twice trying to get to my personal chambers... I still say you'd be safer in my room, but I understand your wish for privacy."
"I'll take my chances," Anders nodded. "You know I'm not..."
"I know," Dorian smirked. "But when have I ever..?"
"Never."
"Well then," Dorian shrugged. "And since it's all just smoke and mirrors..."
"The room next to yours will be fine."
One night Anders' theory was put to a test. An assassin sneaked past the guards or perhaps entered through an attic window, and got as far as the Master Suite. Then Dorian's personal guards raised an alarm. The assassin was apprehended.
"Antivan Crows, well, well!" Dorian looked over the assassin, now safely locked up in the dungeon. "I am honoured. But of course you were not after me."
"Your slave, the Grey Warden," the assassin nodded. "If you think I'll tell you more, you are mistaken. I don't know anything more. He was my target and I failed, so you can kill me now, or else the Crows will."
"Yes, I know how you operate," Dorian agreed. "We'll keep you under observation for a bit. I expect the Crows will try again. Let's see how many of your guild mates we can assemble here. We do have a lot of empty cells."
Dorian doubled the guards around his suite and raised their wages. "With every apprehended Crow, you get another raise," he said. Nothing motivated better than a promise of a raise.
In the weeks that followed the Crows tried several times to get to Anders, and each time the assassin was apprehended and thrown into the dungeon. It was going so well that Anders and the others started to relax and got busy. They didn't have any solid leads on the escaped elven gods, but they had to start somewhere. Red lyrium was definitely a lead, the Venatori also, and both were pointing to Minrathous, that is, somewhere right under the noses of our heroes. And so when all lines of polite inquiry were exhausted, they decided to take the fight to the Venatori, literally. One of those dens, one of those safe houses would have some documents, some clues, some information on the escaped gods, they hoped. "When it is unclear how to proceed, proceed with what is clear," Varric would declare whenever one of them voiced any doubts. "We need to find escaped ancient gods... That's an impossible task! We've got to start somewhere..." He would say.
"So, let me get this straight," Bellara spoke quite firmly one evening, looking at Varric. "You have no clue what you are doing. This is not an expedition to study elven artefacts. This is nothing like what your advertisement promised," she glared. "And while I have no plans to leave, I do resent the deceit."
"Agreed," Davrin joined in. "This is not a monster hunting expedition either!"
"And we've seen no dragons so far!" Taash nodded.
"Well, at least it's better than being bored," Harding smiled. "I'm not disappointed. I didn't expect anything in particular, though. I don't understand why you thought this was a study of elven artefacts, Bellara," she shot her a glance. "And I don't see any mention of hunting monsters here either, Davrin," she looked straight at him. "Perhaps you just saw what you wanted to see... read between the lines or something."
"No, I think we didn't!" Davrin exclaimed hotly. "Where's that notice? Let's review!"
Fighters and mages are invited to take part in a rare enterprise with the purpose of finding and defeating ancient elven gods poised to destroy the world. Be prepared for battle! Ancient magic, monsters, dragons... All of it awaits! Write to Varric at the Swan in Minrathous if you wish to apply.
"That advert was quite literal, Varric," Professor Volkarin smiled. "Which is why no one believed it. They all thought you were exaggerating... they all read in it what they wanted to read." He looked at Bellara and Davrin across the table. "How very clever of you."
"Sometimes the truth is more fantastic than any fantasy," Varric grinned. "But to be fair to Taash - we have not seen any dragons yet. But I am certain there will be some in the future."
"You never said this enterprise would be lead by a disgraced Grey Warden," Davrin looked at Varric darkly. "That's essential information!"
"And you never asked during the interview," Varric shrugged. "Besides, he wasn't yet disgraced at the time of writing..."
"Can we just stop arguing?" Bellara raised her voice and blushed for some reason. "Professor Volkarin is right. We imagined things... we never asked questions... I know I didn't... I also talk too much..." She stared at her plate.
"Please call me Emmrich, everyone," Professor Volkarin said cheerfully. "It's time to drop ceremony, yes, please, I insist. We should become a team if we want to get anywhere... Since the task before us is quite impossible as it is, not just impossible to believe, but plain impossible."
"I suppose Grey Wardens have always accepted all kinds of riff-raff into their ranks..." Davrin glared at Anders. "The First Warden is furious with you, Anders. You burned down his favourite bar."
"Oh, I am so relieved to earn your forgiveness..." Anders glared back. "Like, really."
"Yeah, yeah, that's fine," Davrin gave him a broad smile of superiority. "I won't arrest you. Yet. But I'm watching you, mage!" He glared again.
Dorian laughed. Varric shook his head. Professor Volkarin made a note in his diary.
"I'm with Anders," Taash said unexpectedly. "My mother was right - he's the man. Didn't try to make me into a woman... a wise choice," she grinned. "He knows his stuff and his magic tickles."
"What..?" Anders was perplexed. "That's..."
"You talk in your sleep, Kadash," Taash smiled.
"Right, shall we perhaps return to the matter of finding escaped elven gods?" Dorian cleared his throat. "Before other embarrassing revelations come to light?" He shot Taash a glance. "The qunari don't do discretion... mostly... I was quite surprised by it myself at some point..." he smiled to the memory.
"Here's to the Iron Bull! May he rest in peace," Varric raised a toast. "He was a good one."
"Always fun to have around," Anders seconded the toast.
"The best spy we've had," Harding joined in. "Even if he betrayed us in the end."
"He didn't; he never lied about his duties," Anders objected. "He always said he was faithful to the Qun. So when he had to make a choice... he did what we should have expected."
"I didn't like that I had to kill him," Dorian said gravely. "But he came at me..."
"He knew your power, Dorian," Varric nodded. "The mage that held the party together."
They fell silent for a minute, honouring their late friend, then drank their toasts. Taash was watching in fascination, then straightened up and drank a toast with them. To the Qun.
After that evening they redoubled their efforts in tracking down and engaging every Venatori cell in Minrathous hoping for clues pointing to something larger than a network of blood mages. Yet all their efforts appeared in vain, apart from the fact that removing Venatori was useful in itself, like clearing puss from a wound. And then something unexpected happened: a dragon attacked Minrathous.
"A dragon! An actual dragon!!" Taash ran into the salon and everyone looked up. "Do you hear it? The roar! The mayhem! It's out there thrashing the city!!!"
She ran out again, with everyone following. The dragon had to be stopped.
...
"It was a blighted dragon," Taash was cleaning black blood off her axes and armour as if it was the most repulsive thing in the world, and it probably was. "They blighted the dragon!" She was furious. "The nerve!!" She hissed, accidentally setting curtains on fire with her breath. "They captured a dragon and blighted it!!!" She roared.
"We'll find them, Taash," Harding wasn't afraid of the flames, just careful. "Don't burn down the house."
"Sorry," Taash tried to calm down. "It's just... dragons are majestic creatures! Proud! Powerful! Intelligent! Dragons don't get blighted like other animals, did you know that? They are too smart for it!"
"Dragons are monsters!" Davrin shook his head, he seemed to be as angry as Taash, for very different reasons. "Archdemons are dragons! They lead the Blight! Grey Wardens slay Archdemons! And sacrifice their lives for that! Become heroes! I should have died!"
"You failed to kill that dragon, n'wah!" Taash came down hard on him. "The dragon flew off! Have you gone blind?!"
"The dragon did fly off," Professor Volkarin stood between them. "You must stop your hostilities. We lacked focus today, and that is why the dragon got away, but not before it laid waste to Minrathous. We must focus."
"I'll focus!" Taash and Davrin cried in unison, each launching an attack on the other, and both being repelled by professor's conjured orb.
"I cannot allow any further infighting," he said, looking at them in turn. "Calm down."
"Is everyone alright?" Varric entered the room, his recently broken leg still slowing him down. "Where is Anders?"
"I cannot find him anywhere," Dorian stood behind Varric. "I cannot find his corpse either," he looked worried.
That really cooled off the tensions.
"I can search through the Veil," Bellara brought a large artefact from her room. "If he passed through, there will be a ripple."
"You won't find him this way, Bellara," professor shook his head. "With so many dead in the dragon attack, there's a storm in the Veil right now."
Bellara still tried to work her artefact, filling the room with the faint green glow of the Veil magic, but after a while she had to give up - the professor was right.
"So what do we do?" She looked up.
"We elect a new leader," Davrin said with confidence. "We are dealing with the Blight, so you need a Grey Warden - a real Grey Warden! I shall assume command." He straightened up, stomach in, chest out.
"No." Taash spit fire into a vase.
"I qualify," Davrin glared at her.
"No!" Harding shook her head.
"I am the real Warden!" Davrin raised his voice.
"I said no!" One punch in the jaw was all it took and Davrin rolled around on the floor. "Ugh..." Taash looked at him with disgust. "A real Warden my foot!"
"We should eat and rest for now..." Dorian stepped forward. "As best we can..." he looked down at Davrin. "Tomorrow we'll mount a proper search... call in some favours... hire a private eye if we have to..."
"If you have any of his blood..." Professor Volkarin said softly. "There are rituals... we can trace him with that..."
"Blood magic," Dorian sighed. "We may have to... I thought you'd disapprove?" He looked at the professor with a question.
"Ordinarily, yes," he nodded. "But sometimes it is the only right tool for the job..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hearthfire, 3E410 - A personal demon
Anders woke up on a hard surface, and as a result his body felt broken. He looked around - he was lying on a thin mat in a cell of some dungeon. A faint salty odour hung in the air. "A prison overlooking the sea," he thought. "So, not the Warden's prison at the Head Quarters. But whose, then?" His cell had a solid door, so all he could see was rock. A small opening above the door was letting in some light and some air, but otherwise the cell was cut off from the world.
He got up and stretched, no, his bones did not seem to be broken. He had some small cuts that someone took care to bandage. His things were missing. He was dressed in a simple cloth robe that wasn't his own. "At least I can still cast spells," he noted, conjuring up a small ball of light. No one tempered with his magic.
The light allowed him to look around the cell, but there wasn't much to see. He noticed a drain in the corner; that was all. "At least the place is warm," Anders thought, sitting down on the mat. "The rock is warm... We're either in a really warm country or in the Deep Roads or else it is heated by magic." Neither of those prospects were particularly appealing. If someone went to great lengths to keep their prisoners alive and healthy, it didn't bode well. It could be in fact the worst kind of prison. Anders shivered involuntarily recalling the darkspawn prison in the Deep Roads where Grey Wardens were kept for their blood and other prisoners were used as soil to grow red lyrium. He was still a Grey Warden... "They are after my blood again," he thought, examining the bandages. "But it's twenty years on... this will be twenty times worse," he sighed.
His deductions were confirmed some time later when a mage entered his cell to examine his condition. "We may begin extraction," the mage said to his subordinates. "If the results come back as positive as I expect, we can proceed with implantation." He left. That mage wasn't even trying to keep it secret from Anders - he was sure that Anders would not be able to fight back. A red lyrium crystal was installed in the small opening above the door some time later, and Anders felt his magicka drain and his will falter. No, he would not be able to fight back. "And Wolf is back in Tamriel," Anders smirked to himself. "I guess it's time to grow up... face up... whatever it is..." he shook his head. "Wolf isn't coming to pull me out of this one."
He sat there considering his options which weren't many. He felt certain that "extraction" referred to his blood, that it would be tested for his Grey Warden taint, and if found satisfactory, he would be implanted with a red lyrium crystal to... "No, they would not use a Grey Warden to just grow red lyrium," he corrected himself. "Unless it was some special type of red lyrium? Hmm... No, it's something else..."
"You aren't just another Grey Warden," a hoarse hissing voice objected. "They have special plans for you."
"What? Who said this?" Anders looked up, but there was no one in his cell. "Oh, you're in my head. Great." The red lyrium crystal above the door was obviously giving him hallucinations.
"I am not in your head," the voice sounded offended.
"Well, you are not in my cell, you are not just outside of my cell, so then you must be in my head," Anders reasoned. "Begone, hallucination!"
"You're worse than he! At least he's not trying to push me out."
"He - who?"
"Lucanis."
"Who is Lucanis?"
"The mortal whose body I've been forced to possess..." The voice sighed and a crow flew into Anders' cell, right through the red lyrium crystal.
"Oh, now I'm certain you are a hallucination!" Anders smirked. "Yeah, I know a thing or two about possession... Don't remind me," he shook his head.
"If you keep dismissing me, you'll soon have another implanted," the crow cocked its head.
"What..? Is that..?"
"They make abominations here, yes," the crow was pacing the cell. "Force demons into mortals. We can't leave, you know! They lock us in!"
"Oh you poor demons," Anders smirked.
"Demons are only spirits whose purpose had been perverted," the crow lectured. "You should know! Justice started out all good and proper... and then..."
"Yeah, my anger turned him..."
"Not your anger, you twat," the crow swore. "He saw too much of your mortal world... that was what perverted him. It took a lot of talking and bonding with Faith to get him back to himself, as I recall."
"You recall?" Anders squinted at the crow. "If I even buy any of that from a hallucination."
"Suit yourself," the crow flew up and perched on the ledge above the door. "Wolf ain't coming for you now, Blondie." It vanished.
To be quite honest, Anders missed Wolf. Anders never had parents to speak of, he orphaned very young and was adopted by his uncle's family. They weren't cruel to him but he always felt beneath their own children. And then, when his magic manifested itself around the age of seven, they outright shunned him, locking him up in the barn lest he set the house on fire. A few days later templars arrived and took him away to the Circle Tower in Ferelden, a huge, austere building of grey stone, cold to the touch and to the soul - or at least this was how it felt to Anders. He refused to tell them his name. They called him "Anders" - one from the Anderfels. The name stuck. After a time Anders made friends among the other children in the tower and discovered that his story was far from unique... and that even those who were not orphaned, were also shunned, locked away and deported in much the same way. But because it were their own parents that denounced them, Anders felt it was even worse.
Wolf appeared in Anders' life when Anders was preparing to die. He dabbled in blood magic, he had been discovered, he escaped - successfully this time, thanks to his blood magic spells, but he trusted the wrong person who got him so much deeper into trouble, that he was now facing execution. Locked up in a dungeon awaiting his end, Anders was looking back on his life of attempts at escaping the Circle Tower and only saw imprisonment, one way or the other. He was twenty two. His life had been devoid of meaning. But it wasn't the meaning of life that Anders was contemplating when he heard noises at the end of the corridor. He hadn't eaten in days and was hoping that may be the guards would finally bring him some food. Instead, he saw two Grey Wardens, a witch and a dog staring at him through the bars. The older Grey Warden appeared to be in charge. The young witch was friendly, the young Grey Warden was not, the dog was only interested in the bones in the corner of the cell. The Grey Warden let him out. There was an upheaval in the castle, walking corpses killing everyone in sight... Did he want to stay locked up or be let out? The Warden asked. He actually asked what Anders wanted. Let out. Of course let out. He still had some magic to deal with the corpses... he could hide, perhaps...
"And then he gave me his blood so that I could escape," Anders remembered that day a year or more later when Wolf decided to break him out of the Circle Tower once and for all. "And with that blood I got his taint..." he smiled. "I would have joined them anyway," he reflected. "There's no other place in this world for me but among the Grey Wardens."
But Wolf was now back in Tamriel, and Anders was on his own. Of course, it wasn't the first time that he had to stand up for himself, but it was the first time he knew that Wolf would not be coming for him. And neither would be any of his fellow Wardens. This time Anders was truly alone.
"If there ever was a messed up person, he's right here," he smirked to himself. "I am no dragon kin like Wolf. I cannot breathe fire like Taash, I cannot talk to spirits like Emmrich, I cannot turn into a bird like Morrigan..." he sighed. "I am not getting out of here."
"You are a blood mage though," the hoarse voice from before suddenly replied. "Stop wallowing in self-pity and break that red lyrium crystal! They are coming for you."
Anders heard footsteps echoing along the corridor. The demon was right, the footsteps were getting closer. He looked around - there was nothing in his cell that he could use to cut the veins on his wrist. Nothing. His captors had been thorough.
"Well... desperate times..." He steeled himself, ready for action. As the footsteps approached his cell and he heard a key turn in the lock, he channeled his desperation into willpower and bit his wrist with a sharp, decisive bite. Blood shot in all directions, hitting the door and the crystal above the door, and even landing a few drops on the mage that was about to enter. Anders quickly cast two spells: a lightning bolt to fracture the red lyrium crystal and a toxic cloud to fill the room. The mage behind the door inhaled sharply out of sheer surprise and doubled over in coughs, dropping his dagger and vials. He did not have guards with him - the prisoner would have been subdued by the crystal...
"You will make a good assassin," a hoarse voice hissed in Anders' ear once he slit the mage's throat and quickly pulled his body into the cell, closing the door. "Now, get dressed and follow me! Lucanis is waiting."
"Who?" Anders looked up at the crow perched above the door. "Oh, the man you're possessing... umm... except you're not in his body. But whatever! Lucanis can save his own skin, I'm getting out of here!"
"No!!" The crow hissed and a lightning bolt hit Anders right where it hurt. "I said you follow me!!"
"Huh?" Anders was ready. "A demon out of the body... Who is this Lucanis anyway?"
"An assassin... a Crow!" The crow replied not without some pride. "You will rescue him. You must! Or else he and I will die here both!"
"Oh yes, now I see!" Anders smirked. "It's not your host that you are worried about, it's your own sorry existence! Well, you aren't the first demon I faced! Get lost or else..!"
"No, no, listen to me, Blondie!" The crow transformed into a man's ghost. "You need Lucanis. You need him to fight your elven gods."
"What..? Oh, you are the demon from the letter!" Anders recalled one of the scrolls delivered to Varric. "I do not need abominations with me, thanks! Now, get lost!!" Anders had had enough of that demon. What kind of a demon was it, anyway? It wasn't Pride or Rage, he was quite certain.
"I am Determination!" The demon replied to Anders' thoughts. "And yes, I can read your mind, of course. Here, anyway. You should hurry. The Venatori will soon discover what you've done."
"The Venatori..?"
"Yes, the pesky blood mages that you've been harassing for the past month! In vain, I might add," the demon smirked. "But they are involved, of course. They serve those gods you're after. Only they cannot lead you to the gods as such. The gods will come to you at the time of their choosing, not yours, mortal! For they are gods! What else did you expect?" The demon laughed watching Anders taken aback by those words. "And when they come to you - when they come for you, Warden," the demon came closer. "Then you must be ready."
"You don't sound like a demon," Anders looked closely at the ghost of a man before him. "Determination... I've never heard of a demon by that name."
"This way, Anders," the ghost moved down a corridor. "Lucanis cannot be freed until you destroy his phylactery. You know everything about phylacteries, I believe," he smiled, speaking calmly. "This way. Yours should be around here somewhere as well..."
Their progress through the dungeon was swift, as there were hardly any guards around. They found a storage room with phylacteries, and the demon shot a lightning bolt through that one of Lucanis. Anders found his and destroyed that as well. His wrist was bleeding from the jagged bite wound, but he had to admit it was worth it. Eventually they came to a larger hall with corridors leading off in different directions. As they entered, Anders froze in place. They were under water. The walls were magically holding the sea at bay. It was an inverse aquarium.
"The underwater prison!" Anders realised. "Do you know the way out?" He looked at the demon.
"I do and you don't," the demon smiled. "Follow me - Lucanis is that way. You need blood to open the seal, blood of one particular person..."
"But you won't tell me until we free Lucanis," Anders guessed. "Oh alright... you win."
Unlike Anders' cell, Lucanis' cell was guarded. They dispatched the guards, yet did not find a key. The heavy door was locked and would not respond to magic or brute force.
"It's too bad you are not a master thief," the demon lamented. "Follow me, Blondie... more fighting awaits!"
They lost count how many guards they killed. None of the guards carried any keys, and with all the tumult every single one of them was awake and ready for a fight.
"That's your brilliant plan, is it? To kill every single guard in this prison?!" Anders was getting annoyed. "I'll bleed myself dry by the time we find the keys!"
"At which point you can start bleeding Lucanis instead," the demon grinned. "He can take a few cuts, he's used to it in his line of work. And anyway - why are you not bleeding the guards?"
"They die too quickly," Anders replied darkly. "Blood donors have to be prepared! It isn't as simple as slicing open their wrists..!"
"Well, you are the expert," the demon shrugged. "Oh look - we hit the jackpot, I think."
They entered a laboratory. Large glass jars were lining the walls but instead of grotesque pickled organs they contained spirits. Some were only shades, others looked like ghosts, yet others were glowing softly like giant fireflies. Labels indicated what kind of spirits they were.
"Compassion, Empathy, Diligence, Bravery, Honour... These are good spirits," Anders looked at the demon. "What is going on?"
"When a spirit is forced into a mortal, when it finds itself imprisoned in someone else's space, it gets twisted and corrupt. The mortal's soul is still there as well, and if the spirit is to survive and take full possession of the host, it has to kill it... Or find a way to co-exist... You know how that feels." The demon looked at Anders and smiled. "These spirits will change... and to speed up the process, the host will be tortured."
"Abuse, Manipulation, Tyranny, Madness, Pride..." Anders realised the goal of the experiment.
"Or something along those lines," the demon nodded. "It depends on the host."
"Then... who are you?" Anders looked at him but the demon drifted away and did not answer.
"I think it's here," he called from the other end of the room. "The key to Lucanis' cell."
...
"Who are you?" A man looking exactly like the ghost form of the demon stepped out of the cell. "I mean, thank you for freeing me, but why did you do it?"
"Your demon made me," Anders shrugged. "I am..."
"Rook," the demon stood between them. "Call him Rook. Everything is prepared. Let's go."
"You are staying here," Lucanis said forcefully. "Here is where you belong, demon!"
"I beg to differ!" The demon hissed. "I found him! I arranged your way out! He resisted! I prepared your escape - I am coming with you!"
The demon took a step forward and merged with Lucanis. Anders shivered - it was all too familiar.
"The blood that opens the outer seal is in that fancy vase," Lucanis spoke with the voice of the demon and pointed at an elaborate floral display at the end of the hall. "The Venus flower," he smiled. "Try not to get eaten."
"Shut up!" Lucanis made an effort and regained control of his voice and body. "Let's get out of here, Rook. We'll talk later."
The seal on a massive door was unlocked, the door swung open, a dusty dim corridor stretched before them. They could not see a thing but Anders sensed magic in the depths. It was an eluvian.
"Where does this lead?" Lucanis tried to make out what the eluvian was showing, but it was too dark.
"I don't know," Anders sighed. "Give me your hand. Wherever it is, we should stick together."
Anders woke up on a hard surface, and as a result his body felt broken. He looked around - he was lying on a thin mat in a cell of some dungeon. A faint salty odour hung in the air. "A prison overlooking the sea," he thought. "So, not the Warden's prison at the Head Quarters. But whose, then?" His cell had a solid door, so all he could see was rock. A small opening above the door was letting in some light and some air, but otherwise the cell was cut off from the world.
He got up and stretched, no, his bones did not seem to be broken. He had some small cuts that someone took care to bandage. His things were missing. He was dressed in a simple cloth robe that wasn't his own. "At least I can still cast spells," he noted, conjuring up a small ball of light. No one tempered with his magic.
The light allowed him to look around the cell, but there wasn't much to see. He noticed a drain in the corner; that was all. "At least the place is warm," Anders thought, sitting down on the mat. "The rock is warm... We're either in a really warm country or in the Deep Roads or else it is heated by magic." Neither of those prospects were particularly appealing. If someone went to great lengths to keep their prisoners alive and healthy, it didn't bode well. It could be in fact the worst kind of prison. Anders shivered involuntarily recalling the darkspawn prison in the Deep Roads where Grey Wardens were kept for their blood and other prisoners were used as soil to grow red lyrium. He was still a Grey Warden... "They are after my blood again," he thought, examining the bandages. "But it's twenty years on... this will be twenty times worse," he sighed.
His deductions were confirmed some time later when a mage entered his cell to examine his condition. "We may begin extraction," the mage said to his subordinates. "If the results come back as positive as I expect, we can proceed with implantation." He left. That mage wasn't even trying to keep it secret from Anders - he was sure that Anders would not be able to fight back. A red lyrium crystal was installed in the small opening above the door some time later, and Anders felt his magicka drain and his will falter. No, he would not be able to fight back. "And Wolf is back in Tamriel," Anders smirked to himself. "I guess it's time to grow up... face up... whatever it is..." he shook his head. "Wolf isn't coming to pull me out of this one."
He sat there considering his options which weren't many. He felt certain that "extraction" referred to his blood, that it would be tested for his Grey Warden taint, and if found satisfactory, he would be implanted with a red lyrium crystal to... "No, they would not use a Grey Warden to just grow red lyrium," he corrected himself. "Unless it was some special type of red lyrium? Hmm... No, it's something else..."
"You aren't just another Grey Warden," a hoarse hissing voice objected. "They have special plans for you."
"What? Who said this?" Anders looked up, but there was no one in his cell. "Oh, you're in my head. Great." The red lyrium crystal above the door was obviously giving him hallucinations.
"I am not in your head," the voice sounded offended.
"Well, you are not in my cell, you are not just outside of my cell, so then you must be in my head," Anders reasoned. "Begone, hallucination!"
"You're worse than he! At least he's not trying to push me out."
"He - who?"
"Lucanis."
"Who is Lucanis?"
"The mortal whose body I've been forced to possess..." The voice sighed and a crow flew into Anders' cell, right through the red lyrium crystal.
"Oh, now I'm certain you are a hallucination!" Anders smirked. "Yeah, I know a thing or two about possession... Don't remind me," he shook his head.
"If you keep dismissing me, you'll soon have another implanted," the crow cocked its head.
"What..? Is that..?"
"They make abominations here, yes," the crow was pacing the cell. "Force demons into mortals. We can't leave, you know! They lock us in!"
"Oh you poor demons," Anders smirked.
"Demons are only spirits whose purpose had been perverted," the crow lectured. "You should know! Justice started out all good and proper... and then..."
"Yeah, my anger turned him..."
"Not your anger, you twat," the crow swore. "He saw too much of your mortal world... that was what perverted him. It took a lot of talking and bonding with Faith to get him back to himself, as I recall."
"You recall?" Anders squinted at the crow. "If I even buy any of that from a hallucination."
"Suit yourself," the crow flew up and perched on the ledge above the door. "Wolf ain't coming for you now, Blondie." It vanished.
To be quite honest, Anders missed Wolf. Anders never had parents to speak of, he orphaned very young and was adopted by his uncle's family. They weren't cruel to him but he always felt beneath their own children. And then, when his magic manifested itself around the age of seven, they outright shunned him, locking him up in the barn lest he set the house on fire. A few days later templars arrived and took him away to the Circle Tower in Ferelden, a huge, austere building of grey stone, cold to the touch and to the soul - or at least this was how it felt to Anders. He refused to tell them his name. They called him "Anders" - one from the Anderfels. The name stuck. After a time Anders made friends among the other children in the tower and discovered that his story was far from unique... and that even those who were not orphaned, were also shunned, locked away and deported in much the same way. But because it were their own parents that denounced them, Anders felt it was even worse.
Wolf appeared in Anders' life when Anders was preparing to die. He dabbled in blood magic, he had been discovered, he escaped - successfully this time, thanks to his blood magic spells, but he trusted the wrong person who got him so much deeper into trouble, that he was now facing execution. Locked up in a dungeon awaiting his end, Anders was looking back on his life of attempts at escaping the Circle Tower and only saw imprisonment, one way or the other. He was twenty two. His life had been devoid of meaning. But it wasn't the meaning of life that Anders was contemplating when he heard noises at the end of the corridor. He hadn't eaten in days and was hoping that may be the guards would finally bring him some food. Instead, he saw two Grey Wardens, a witch and a dog staring at him through the bars. The older Grey Warden appeared to be in charge. The young witch was friendly, the young Grey Warden was not, the dog was only interested in the bones in the corner of the cell. The Grey Warden let him out. There was an upheaval in the castle, walking corpses killing everyone in sight... Did he want to stay locked up or be let out? The Warden asked. He actually asked what Anders wanted. Let out. Of course let out. He still had some magic to deal with the corpses... he could hide, perhaps...
"And then he gave me his blood so that I could escape," Anders remembered that day a year or more later when Wolf decided to break him out of the Circle Tower once and for all. "And with that blood I got his taint..." he smiled. "I would have joined them anyway," he reflected. "There's no other place in this world for me but among the Grey Wardens."
But Wolf was now back in Tamriel, and Anders was on his own. Of course, it wasn't the first time that he had to stand up for himself, but it was the first time he knew that Wolf would not be coming for him. And neither would be any of his fellow Wardens. This time Anders was truly alone.
"If there ever was a messed up person, he's right here," he smirked to himself. "I am no dragon kin like Wolf. I cannot breathe fire like Taash, I cannot talk to spirits like Emmrich, I cannot turn into a bird like Morrigan..." he sighed. "I am not getting out of here."
"You are a blood mage though," the hoarse voice from before suddenly replied. "Stop wallowing in self-pity and break that red lyrium crystal! They are coming for you."
Anders heard footsteps echoing along the corridor. The demon was right, the footsteps were getting closer. He looked around - there was nothing in his cell that he could use to cut the veins on his wrist. Nothing. His captors had been thorough.
"Well... desperate times..." He steeled himself, ready for action. As the footsteps approached his cell and he heard a key turn in the lock, he channeled his desperation into willpower and bit his wrist with a sharp, decisive bite. Blood shot in all directions, hitting the door and the crystal above the door, and even landing a few drops on the mage that was about to enter. Anders quickly cast two spells: a lightning bolt to fracture the red lyrium crystal and a toxic cloud to fill the room. The mage behind the door inhaled sharply out of sheer surprise and doubled over in coughs, dropping his dagger and vials. He did not have guards with him - the prisoner would have been subdued by the crystal...
"You will make a good assassin," a hoarse voice hissed in Anders' ear once he slit the mage's throat and quickly pulled his body into the cell, closing the door. "Now, get dressed and follow me! Lucanis is waiting."
"Who?" Anders looked up at the crow perched above the door. "Oh, the man you're possessing... umm... except you're not in his body. But whatever! Lucanis can save his own skin, I'm getting out of here!"
"No!!" The crow hissed and a lightning bolt hit Anders right where it hurt. "I said you follow me!!"
"Huh?" Anders was ready. "A demon out of the body... Who is this Lucanis anyway?"
"An assassin... a Crow!" The crow replied not without some pride. "You will rescue him. You must! Or else he and I will die here both!"
"Oh yes, now I see!" Anders smirked. "It's not your host that you are worried about, it's your own sorry existence! Well, you aren't the first demon I faced! Get lost or else..!"
"No, no, listen to me, Blondie!" The crow transformed into a man's ghost. "You need Lucanis. You need him to fight your elven gods."
"What..? Oh, you are the demon from the letter!" Anders recalled one of the scrolls delivered to Varric. "I do not need abominations with me, thanks! Now, get lost!!" Anders had had enough of that demon. What kind of a demon was it, anyway? It wasn't Pride or Rage, he was quite certain.
"I am Determination!" The demon replied to Anders' thoughts. "And yes, I can read your mind, of course. Here, anyway. You should hurry. The Venatori will soon discover what you've done."
"The Venatori..?"
"Yes, the pesky blood mages that you've been harassing for the past month! In vain, I might add," the demon smirked. "But they are involved, of course. They serve those gods you're after. Only they cannot lead you to the gods as such. The gods will come to you at the time of their choosing, not yours, mortal! For they are gods! What else did you expect?" The demon laughed watching Anders taken aback by those words. "And when they come to you - when they come for you, Warden," the demon came closer. "Then you must be ready."
"You don't sound like a demon," Anders looked closely at the ghost of a man before him. "Determination... I've never heard of a demon by that name."
"This way, Anders," the ghost moved down a corridor. "Lucanis cannot be freed until you destroy his phylactery. You know everything about phylacteries, I believe," he smiled, speaking calmly. "This way. Yours should be around here somewhere as well..."
Their progress through the dungeon was swift, as there were hardly any guards around. They found a storage room with phylacteries, and the demon shot a lightning bolt through that one of Lucanis. Anders found his and destroyed that as well. His wrist was bleeding from the jagged bite wound, but he had to admit it was worth it. Eventually they came to a larger hall with corridors leading off in different directions. As they entered, Anders froze in place. They were under water. The walls were magically holding the sea at bay. It was an inverse aquarium.
"The underwater prison!" Anders realised. "Do you know the way out?" He looked at the demon.
"I do and you don't," the demon smiled. "Follow me - Lucanis is that way. You need blood to open the seal, blood of one particular person..."
"But you won't tell me until we free Lucanis," Anders guessed. "Oh alright... you win."
Unlike Anders' cell, Lucanis' cell was guarded. They dispatched the guards, yet did not find a key. The heavy door was locked and would not respond to magic or brute force.
"It's too bad you are not a master thief," the demon lamented. "Follow me, Blondie... more fighting awaits!"
They lost count how many guards they killed. None of the guards carried any keys, and with all the tumult every single one of them was awake and ready for a fight.
"That's your brilliant plan, is it? To kill every single guard in this prison?!" Anders was getting annoyed. "I'll bleed myself dry by the time we find the keys!"
"At which point you can start bleeding Lucanis instead," the demon grinned. "He can take a few cuts, he's used to it in his line of work. And anyway - why are you not bleeding the guards?"
"They die too quickly," Anders replied darkly. "Blood donors have to be prepared! It isn't as simple as slicing open their wrists..!"
"Well, you are the expert," the demon shrugged. "Oh look - we hit the jackpot, I think."
They entered a laboratory. Large glass jars were lining the walls but instead of grotesque pickled organs they contained spirits. Some were only shades, others looked like ghosts, yet others were glowing softly like giant fireflies. Labels indicated what kind of spirits they were.
"Compassion, Empathy, Diligence, Bravery, Honour... These are good spirits," Anders looked at the demon. "What is going on?"
"When a spirit is forced into a mortal, when it finds itself imprisoned in someone else's space, it gets twisted and corrupt. The mortal's soul is still there as well, and if the spirit is to survive and take full possession of the host, it has to kill it... Or find a way to co-exist... You know how that feels." The demon looked at Anders and smiled. "These spirits will change... and to speed up the process, the host will be tortured."
"Abuse, Manipulation, Tyranny, Madness, Pride..." Anders realised the goal of the experiment.
"Or something along those lines," the demon nodded. "It depends on the host."
"Then... who are you?" Anders looked at him but the demon drifted away and did not answer.
"I think it's here," he called from the other end of the room. "The key to Lucanis' cell."
...
"Who are you?" A man looking exactly like the ghost form of the demon stepped out of the cell. "I mean, thank you for freeing me, but why did you do it?"
"Your demon made me," Anders shrugged. "I am..."
"Rook," the demon stood between them. "Call him Rook. Everything is prepared. Let's go."
"You are staying here," Lucanis said forcefully. "Here is where you belong, demon!"
"I beg to differ!" The demon hissed. "I found him! I arranged your way out! He resisted! I prepared your escape - I am coming with you!"
The demon took a step forward and merged with Lucanis. Anders shivered - it was all too familiar.
"The blood that opens the outer seal is in that fancy vase," Lucanis spoke with the voice of the demon and pointed at an elaborate floral display at the end of the hall. "The Venus flower," he smiled. "Try not to get eaten."
"Shut up!" Lucanis made an effort and regained control of his voice and body. "Let's get out of here, Rook. We'll talk later."
The seal on a massive door was unlocked, the door swung open, a dusty dim corridor stretched before them. They could not see a thing but Anders sensed magic in the depths. It was an eluvian.
"Where does this lead?" Lucanis tried to make out what the eluvian was showing, but it was too dark.
"I don't know," Anders sighed. "Give me your hand. Wherever it is, we should stick together."
Hearthfire, 3E410 - Another dragon
"Lie still or I'll cut too deep," Anders stood over Lucanis with a dagger in his hand.
"Do we have to?" Lucanis groaned. "I'm not used to this..."
"Shush, we do have to," Anders said softly. "I'll be gentle."
The cavern around them was dimly lit but Anders had set up torches around a slab in the middle. Lucanis lay on the slab with no clothes on. A deep wound was cutting across his abdomen.
"Try to relax... or I'll have to knock you out," Anders tried to calm Lucanis who was shivering uncomfortably.
"How can I even be sure you know what you are doing, blood mage?" Lucanis grimaced. "The cuts on my wrists are still bleeding..."
"That's because they were used for casting magic," Anders sighed. "I am sorry. There was no other way. That dragon was too much."
"Dragons usually are," Lucanis sighed and groaned again.
"You see - that wound is hurting badly. Now, relax. I am in fact a healer." Lucanis tried to object but Anders sent a wave of healing magic into the wound easing the pain.
"Alright, healer," Lucanis closed his eyes. "Do what you must."
...
The eluvian that they stepped through in the underwater prison, led to Treviso - the Antivan city where Lucanis used to live. That was the good news. The bad news was that Treviso was under attack by a dragon.
"That's another blighted dragon!" Anders charged towards it as soon as they were on solid ground. "Round up the guards! Prepare the ballistas! This is not a drill!!!"
"Treviso has no guards or ballistas," Lucanis was right behind Anders. "Treviso just has the Crows."
He lunged at the dragon. A huge pair of spirit wings lifted him into the air. He dived like a hawk chasing prey, blades extended.
"Impressive!" Anders grinned. "That demon isn't just a pretty face!"
The dragon was thrashing the city, much like the first dragon laying waste to Minrathous. The Crows attacked it from every angle, and the sight of Lucanis both rallied and frightened them - he'd been gone for over a year, presumed dead, and now he was back and had wings..? People didn't know what to think. Fortunately, they didn't have the time to think about it, the dragon was taking all of their attention. They noticed a mage charging at the dragon as well... a mage they'd never seen before. Some crazy mage dressed in Minrathous garb... a Venatori? A Venatori helping them fight? It was perplexing, but again, there was no time to think. He was fighting the dragon, and hence he was an ally.
The dragon was not to be taken lightly. It swung its massive tail and people were buried under the rubble of what used to be a bridge. It breathed lightning and people fell and many did not get up.
"Stay clear of the dragon!!!" Anders shouted to everyone who could hear. "Do not approach!!!"
People stepped back, switching to bows, everyone did their best but the dragon was just too much. Lucanis dived at it several times wounding it but could not kill it. The dragon was now enraged. The next time Lucanis dived, the dragon slashed through him with a talon. Lucanis fell, unable to rise.
"That's bad," Anders told himself, ignoring the dragon and running up to Lucanis. He dragged him to the side, noting a huge gash through his belly.
"We've got to stop that dragon," Lucanis said with a faltering voice. "But I am out... You are a blood mage, are you not? Use my blood... It's better I die doing something useful than just lie in this gutter and watch my city burn..."
Anders did what he could. His fire and ice gave the dragon a pause, but Lucanis was fading fast. He saw that they could not defeat the dragon and he refused to take a life for that. One last spell... make it count.
"Demon, I command you!" He opened a rift to the Fade. Lucanis' demon rose to it and summoned a thunderstorm. The dragon faltered, then rose and flew away. Anders tried to close the rift, but Lucanis' demon got pulled into the Fade and Lucanis was dying, he would be dead for certain without the demon's support. Anders pulled him over his shoulder and stepped into the Fade. The rift closed behind him.
...
"Another dragon attacked Treviso in Antiva!" Varric walked into the salon of the Pavus Manor in Minrathous. "It's all over the papers! And Blondie was there!"
"A dragon attacks Treviso and is repelled by a Venatori mage!" Dorian read the paper. "Dragon flew off and the mage disappeared! Sightings of the Demon of Vyrantium are reported, but no sign of him remains. Was the dragon sent by the Venatori? Is it another attempt by Tevinter to invade Antiva? - Etcetera, etcetera." Dorian tossed the paper aside. "The Venatori! They do not command dragons, of that I am certain!"
"I see no mention of Anders in this," Emmrich picked up the paper. "Why do you say he was there?"
"The Venatori mage," Varric pointed at the line. "He was dressed as a Venatori for some reason or other... probably scavenged their robes. Skip the political crap and read the end of the article."
"An anomaly in the Veil was seen above the dragon, sending a lightning of a magnitude beyond a mortal mage. Authorities suspect blood magic, but as no trace of the mage or his sacrifice remains, they are at an impasse. Another attempt by Tevinter... Yeah, yeah, and all that," Emmrich read. "Blood magic, eh? But Anders is not the only blood mage around," he pointed out.
"No, but do you really believe that some Venatori mage traveled all the way to Treviso in order to fight a dragon?" Varric smirked.
"That would be just something Anders would do," Harding nodded. "Something stupid."
"This is all well and good, but we still don't know where he is," Taash joined in. "The paper says he vanished."
"It also says a rift opened and closed there," Bellara brought her ancient artefact and set it up on the table. "That I should be able to trace."
She started working the artefact and everyone stopped talking. The room was filled with the faint green glow of the Fade once again.
"I see it," Emmrich pointed out something only he and Bellara could see. "Azimuth mark six."
"A disturbance," Bellara nodded.
"Someone opened a rift and passed through the Veil there."
"A mortal... and a spirit."
"Strange."
"Well?" Everyone looked at them with a question. "Where is he?"
"He's in the Fade," Bellara said apologetically. "I don't know where exactly."
"There are no coordinates in the Fade!" Dorian shook his head. "The Fade has no dimensions!"
"That isn't strictly true..." Emmrich started, but then gave up. "Such theories won't help us. The Fade has infinitely many pockets; he could be on any of them."
"Who is the Demon of Vyrantium?" Davrin was reading the paper now. "It says here: the Demon of Vyrantium was seen with the mage. Who is it?"
"That is one of the most famous assassins of the Antivan Crows," a woman entered the room. "You sent for me, Pavus? I warn you - I do not work for free."
"I would not dream of it!" Dorian beamed at her. "Everyone, meet Neve Gallus, a private investigator and a remarkable mage. Neve, may I present..."
"No need, I know who you all are," she interrupted him rather abruptly. "And the one that's not here is our missing man, am I correct?"
"That sums it up nicely," Emmrich gave a short laugh. "Have you not found him yet?"
"No, but since he is a slave, his phylactery will lead us to him," Neve looked at Dorian. "You did take his phylactery, right?"
"Err..."
"Oh." Neve shook her head. "Can't you do anything right?" She sighed in exasperation. "But never mind. He is also a blood mage. The city guard will have his phylactery."
"Well..." Dorian gave her a weak smile. "I hear there's been an accident at the archives..."
"Right," Neve smirked. "The Grey Wardens? Do they keep track of phylacteries?"
"No, we do not!" Davrin cut her off with pathos. "That's barbaric!"
"It would have been useful for finding him right now," Neve shrugged. "But I see you value freedom over safety."
"The Chantry in Ferelden might have his phylactery," Harding offered in a small voice. "He used to be a Circle mage after all..."
"Don't tell me there'd been an accident there as well?" Neve glared at Varric who was about to say something.
"No, I was actually going to say that we should also have his blood somewhere in Kirkwall..."
"That is all too far away," Neve decided. "We'll have to try something else."
"That is all rather irrelevant as well," Emmrich finally spoke. "Since we have already established that he is in the Fade."
"Together with the Demon of Vyrantium?" Neve's eyes lit up.
"May be... we don't know," Emmrich had to admit.
"I saw a mortal and a spirit enter the Fade, not two mortals," Bellara said in a fallen voice. "It was probably someone else."
"No, no, the Demon of Vyrantium is an abomination," Neve smiled. "What you saw was most likely two mortals and a demon, but one of the mortals was dead."
...
"This is not good," Anders shook his head after yet another examination of Lucanis' wound. "It isn't healing."
"I can sustain him indefinitely," the demon replied. "There is no rush."
"The wound is not healing because Lucanis is dead," Anders looked at the demon. "You are animating his dead body. Can you not feel it?"
"He is almost dead but not completely," the demon objected. "His soul is still here. His corpse is not decomposing."
"It isn't a corpse if he is not yet dead," Anders tried to feel the pulse but there was none. "He is still warm... he's staying warm... Something is keeping him here..."
"He's stubborn," the demon smirked. "Defying death."
"Who are you?" Anders turned to the demon. "Determination is your spirit name. But you are a demon now. So, who are you?"
The demon twisted in his seat, got up and paced about, even walked out of the cave and immediately returned.
"Spite," he hissed. "He calls me Spite. I call myself Determination."
"Ah," Anders smiled. "That's telling. He'll pull through. All I have to do is keep him warm since I cannot give him my blood. Once his heart starts beating again, you'll help me move him. I know just where to go."
...
It was hard to tell how much time had passed but eventually Lucanis stabilised. He could not walk yet, but Anders insisted on moving him anyway.
"This is the Fade," he told Spite. "Your realm. Find a way to the Lighthouse. You know, the place..."
"...that Solas built, yes, I know," Spite looked at him darkly. "You don't like this cave, I can tell..."
Once the way was found, Spite opened a portal to it, it was as simple as that.
"The Lighthouse is neither here nor there," Spite kept complaining. "It is neither pure Fade nor is it Mundus. Both spirits and mortals can walk here, things from the mortal realm exist here and keep their substance! It is crazy!"
"It is not crazy," Anders objected. "My things are still here, it's got a bath and a kitchen! I can get out of these bloody robes and finally have a meal! Lucanis too. We mortals have to eat!"
...
"So, you found my Lighthouse," Solas entered the room. "I'd say welcome if it were so."
"What do you want?" Anders scowled at him. He was in the infirmary wing, with Lucanis sleeping on a cot next to him.
"It's time you started on the escaped gods, Anders," Solas said sternly. "Instead of gallivanting through the Fade picking up lovers."
"What?!" Anders rose, his fists clenched. "Get out of here, Solas!"
"It's my house," Solas smiled dryly. "And you are an unwelcome guest."
Anders felt rage rising in him. The whole thing was Solas' fault, yet here he was lecturing him on what he should be doing. Picking up lovers, indeed! He didn't want Lucanis with him in the first place, but Spite insisted, and then he could not just leave him there to die... Nothing to do with love, just a decent thing any healer would do... Anders glared at Solas and hit him square on the jaw. And realised that his fist went through Solas is if he wasn't there.
"I am still in that prison where your stupidity landed me," Solas said with derision. "Swing all you like."
"You are in my head," Anders glared.
"Indeed. When you dream in my house..."
"As soon as Lucanis can walk, we are leaving." Anders said firmly and woke up.
"What happened?" Lucanis sat up on his cot. "You were thrashing."
"We should return to Minrathous," Anders said darkly. "This Lighthouse has eyes and ears."
"Back to the mortal realm?" Spite appeared next to Lucanis. "Finally! I hate this place, it's neither here nor there..."
"As soon as you can walk," Anders said to Lucanis, ignoring Spite.
"I can walk!" Lucanis jumped off his cot to demonstrate and doubled up in pain.
"No! You'll tear up the stitches! Get back on your cot!" Anders jumped to his aid, lifting him up to the cot again. "It's bleeding, you must have ripped something... let me see."
"Stop fussing over me! It will pass," Lucanis protested.
"I must see," Anders insisted. "I must make sure I didn't miss anything... that I cut out every bit... that it isn't spreading."
"What are you talking about?" Lucanis' voice fell.
"The blight," Anders gave him a long look. "Do you not remember? The dragon..."
"I remember the dragon," Lucanis nodded. "I remember getting this gash... I remember you cleaning the wound afterwards... The blight? What are you saying?"
"The dragon was blighted," Anders bent over the wound, examining the bleeding. "I had to remove every bit of the blight from your wound before it infected your blood. I tried to be thorough... but if I missed something..."
"Death comes to all of us," Lucanis sighed. "How long?"
"It varies..."
"How do you know all of this?"
"I am a Grey Warden," Anders paused, looking up from the wound. "I carry the taint. I cannot be blighted, as I already am... but you are a different matter."
"He is not blighted," Spite stood next to Anders again. "I would sense it. Justice could hear the song through you..."
"What? Who's Justice?" Lucanis sat up. "Why do I get the feeling Spite knows you better than I?"
"He does..." Anders sighed. "He... well... perhaps I should tell you about Justice."
"Lie still or I'll cut too deep," Anders stood over Lucanis with a dagger in his hand.
"Do we have to?" Lucanis groaned. "I'm not used to this..."
"Shush, we do have to," Anders said softly. "I'll be gentle."
The cavern around them was dimly lit but Anders had set up torches around a slab in the middle. Lucanis lay on the slab with no clothes on. A deep wound was cutting across his abdomen.
"Try to relax... or I'll have to knock you out," Anders tried to calm Lucanis who was shivering uncomfortably.
"How can I even be sure you know what you are doing, blood mage?" Lucanis grimaced. "The cuts on my wrists are still bleeding..."
"That's because they were used for casting magic," Anders sighed. "I am sorry. There was no other way. That dragon was too much."
"Dragons usually are," Lucanis sighed and groaned again.
"You see - that wound is hurting badly. Now, relax. I am in fact a healer." Lucanis tried to object but Anders sent a wave of healing magic into the wound easing the pain.
"Alright, healer," Lucanis closed his eyes. "Do what you must."
...
The eluvian that they stepped through in the underwater prison, led to Treviso - the Antivan city where Lucanis used to live. That was the good news. The bad news was that Treviso was under attack by a dragon.
"That's another blighted dragon!" Anders charged towards it as soon as they were on solid ground. "Round up the guards! Prepare the ballistas! This is not a drill!!!"
"Treviso has no guards or ballistas," Lucanis was right behind Anders. "Treviso just has the Crows."
He lunged at the dragon. A huge pair of spirit wings lifted him into the air. He dived like a hawk chasing prey, blades extended.
"Impressive!" Anders grinned. "That demon isn't just a pretty face!"
The dragon was thrashing the city, much like the first dragon laying waste to Minrathous. The Crows attacked it from every angle, and the sight of Lucanis both rallied and frightened them - he'd been gone for over a year, presumed dead, and now he was back and had wings..? People didn't know what to think. Fortunately, they didn't have the time to think about it, the dragon was taking all of their attention. They noticed a mage charging at the dragon as well... a mage they'd never seen before. Some crazy mage dressed in Minrathous garb... a Venatori? A Venatori helping them fight? It was perplexing, but again, there was no time to think. He was fighting the dragon, and hence he was an ally.
The dragon was not to be taken lightly. It swung its massive tail and people were buried under the rubble of what used to be a bridge. It breathed lightning and people fell and many did not get up.
"Stay clear of the dragon!!!" Anders shouted to everyone who could hear. "Do not approach!!!"
People stepped back, switching to bows, everyone did their best but the dragon was just too much. Lucanis dived at it several times wounding it but could not kill it. The dragon was now enraged. The next time Lucanis dived, the dragon slashed through him with a talon. Lucanis fell, unable to rise.
"That's bad," Anders told himself, ignoring the dragon and running up to Lucanis. He dragged him to the side, noting a huge gash through his belly.
"We've got to stop that dragon," Lucanis said with a faltering voice. "But I am out... You are a blood mage, are you not? Use my blood... It's better I die doing something useful than just lie in this gutter and watch my city burn..."
Anders did what he could. His fire and ice gave the dragon a pause, but Lucanis was fading fast. He saw that they could not defeat the dragon and he refused to take a life for that. One last spell... make it count.
"Demon, I command you!" He opened a rift to the Fade. Lucanis' demon rose to it and summoned a thunderstorm. The dragon faltered, then rose and flew away. Anders tried to close the rift, but Lucanis' demon got pulled into the Fade and Lucanis was dying, he would be dead for certain without the demon's support. Anders pulled him over his shoulder and stepped into the Fade. The rift closed behind him.
...
"Another dragon attacked Treviso in Antiva!" Varric walked into the salon of the Pavus Manor in Minrathous. "It's all over the papers! And Blondie was there!"
"A dragon attacks Treviso and is repelled by a Venatori mage!" Dorian read the paper. "Dragon flew off and the mage disappeared! Sightings of the Demon of Vyrantium are reported, but no sign of him remains. Was the dragon sent by the Venatori? Is it another attempt by Tevinter to invade Antiva? - Etcetera, etcetera." Dorian tossed the paper aside. "The Venatori! They do not command dragons, of that I am certain!"
"I see no mention of Anders in this," Emmrich picked up the paper. "Why do you say he was there?"
"The Venatori mage," Varric pointed at the line. "He was dressed as a Venatori for some reason or other... probably scavenged their robes. Skip the political crap and read the end of the article."
"An anomaly in the Veil was seen above the dragon, sending a lightning of a magnitude beyond a mortal mage. Authorities suspect blood magic, but as no trace of the mage or his sacrifice remains, they are at an impasse. Another attempt by Tevinter... Yeah, yeah, and all that," Emmrich read. "Blood magic, eh? But Anders is not the only blood mage around," he pointed out.
"No, but do you really believe that some Venatori mage traveled all the way to Treviso in order to fight a dragon?" Varric smirked.
"That would be just something Anders would do," Harding nodded. "Something stupid."
"This is all well and good, but we still don't know where he is," Taash joined in. "The paper says he vanished."
"It also says a rift opened and closed there," Bellara brought her ancient artefact and set it up on the table. "That I should be able to trace."
She started working the artefact and everyone stopped talking. The room was filled with the faint green glow of the Fade once again.
"I see it," Emmrich pointed out something only he and Bellara could see. "Azimuth mark six."
"A disturbance," Bellara nodded.
"Someone opened a rift and passed through the Veil there."
"A mortal... and a spirit."
"Strange."
"Well?" Everyone looked at them with a question. "Where is he?"
"He's in the Fade," Bellara said apologetically. "I don't know where exactly."
"There are no coordinates in the Fade!" Dorian shook his head. "The Fade has no dimensions!"
"That isn't strictly true..." Emmrich started, but then gave up. "Such theories won't help us. The Fade has infinitely many pockets; he could be on any of them."
"Who is the Demon of Vyrantium?" Davrin was reading the paper now. "It says here: the Demon of Vyrantium was seen with the mage. Who is it?"
"That is one of the most famous assassins of the Antivan Crows," a woman entered the room. "You sent for me, Pavus? I warn you - I do not work for free."
"I would not dream of it!" Dorian beamed at her. "Everyone, meet Neve Gallus, a private investigator and a remarkable mage. Neve, may I present..."
"No need, I know who you all are," she interrupted him rather abruptly. "And the one that's not here is our missing man, am I correct?"
"That sums it up nicely," Emmrich gave a short laugh. "Have you not found him yet?"
"No, but since he is a slave, his phylactery will lead us to him," Neve looked at Dorian. "You did take his phylactery, right?"
"Err..."
"Oh." Neve shook her head. "Can't you do anything right?" She sighed in exasperation. "But never mind. He is also a blood mage. The city guard will have his phylactery."
"Well..." Dorian gave her a weak smile. "I hear there's been an accident at the archives..."
"Right," Neve smirked. "The Grey Wardens? Do they keep track of phylacteries?"
"No, we do not!" Davrin cut her off with pathos. "That's barbaric!"
"It would have been useful for finding him right now," Neve shrugged. "But I see you value freedom over safety."
"The Chantry in Ferelden might have his phylactery," Harding offered in a small voice. "He used to be a Circle mage after all..."
"Don't tell me there'd been an accident there as well?" Neve glared at Varric who was about to say something.
"No, I was actually going to say that we should also have his blood somewhere in Kirkwall..."
"That is all too far away," Neve decided. "We'll have to try something else."
"That is all rather irrelevant as well," Emmrich finally spoke. "Since we have already established that he is in the Fade."
"Together with the Demon of Vyrantium?" Neve's eyes lit up.
"May be... we don't know," Emmrich had to admit.
"I saw a mortal and a spirit enter the Fade, not two mortals," Bellara said in a fallen voice. "It was probably someone else."
"No, no, the Demon of Vyrantium is an abomination," Neve smiled. "What you saw was most likely two mortals and a demon, but one of the mortals was dead."
...
"This is not good," Anders shook his head after yet another examination of Lucanis' wound. "It isn't healing."
"I can sustain him indefinitely," the demon replied. "There is no rush."
"The wound is not healing because Lucanis is dead," Anders looked at the demon. "You are animating his dead body. Can you not feel it?"
"He is almost dead but not completely," the demon objected. "His soul is still here. His corpse is not decomposing."
"It isn't a corpse if he is not yet dead," Anders tried to feel the pulse but there was none. "He is still warm... he's staying warm... Something is keeping him here..."
"He's stubborn," the demon smirked. "Defying death."
"Who are you?" Anders turned to the demon. "Determination is your spirit name. But you are a demon now. So, who are you?"
The demon twisted in his seat, got up and paced about, even walked out of the cave and immediately returned.
"Spite," he hissed. "He calls me Spite. I call myself Determination."
"Ah," Anders smiled. "That's telling. He'll pull through. All I have to do is keep him warm since I cannot give him my blood. Once his heart starts beating again, you'll help me move him. I know just where to go."
...
It was hard to tell how much time had passed but eventually Lucanis stabilised. He could not walk yet, but Anders insisted on moving him anyway.
"This is the Fade," he told Spite. "Your realm. Find a way to the Lighthouse. You know, the place..."
"...that Solas built, yes, I know," Spite looked at him darkly. "You don't like this cave, I can tell..."
Once the way was found, Spite opened a portal to it, it was as simple as that.
"The Lighthouse is neither here nor there," Spite kept complaining. "It is neither pure Fade nor is it Mundus. Both spirits and mortals can walk here, things from the mortal realm exist here and keep their substance! It is crazy!"
"It is not crazy," Anders objected. "My things are still here, it's got a bath and a kitchen! I can get out of these bloody robes and finally have a meal! Lucanis too. We mortals have to eat!"
...
"So, you found my Lighthouse," Solas entered the room. "I'd say welcome if it were so."
"What do you want?" Anders scowled at him. He was in the infirmary wing, with Lucanis sleeping on a cot next to him.
"It's time you started on the escaped gods, Anders," Solas said sternly. "Instead of gallivanting through the Fade picking up lovers."
"What?!" Anders rose, his fists clenched. "Get out of here, Solas!"
"It's my house," Solas smiled dryly. "And you are an unwelcome guest."
Anders felt rage rising in him. The whole thing was Solas' fault, yet here he was lecturing him on what he should be doing. Picking up lovers, indeed! He didn't want Lucanis with him in the first place, but Spite insisted, and then he could not just leave him there to die... Nothing to do with love, just a decent thing any healer would do... Anders glared at Solas and hit him square on the jaw. And realised that his fist went through Solas is if he wasn't there.
"I am still in that prison where your stupidity landed me," Solas said with derision. "Swing all you like."
"You are in my head," Anders glared.
"Indeed. When you dream in my house..."
"As soon as Lucanis can walk, we are leaving." Anders said firmly and woke up.
"What happened?" Lucanis sat up on his cot. "You were thrashing."
"We should return to Minrathous," Anders said darkly. "This Lighthouse has eyes and ears."
"Back to the mortal realm?" Spite appeared next to Lucanis. "Finally! I hate this place, it's neither here nor there..."
"As soon as you can walk," Anders said to Lucanis, ignoring Spite.
"I can walk!" Lucanis jumped off his cot to demonstrate and doubled up in pain.
"No! You'll tear up the stitches! Get back on your cot!" Anders jumped to his aid, lifting him up to the cot again. "It's bleeding, you must have ripped something... let me see."
"Stop fussing over me! It will pass," Lucanis protested.
"I must see," Anders insisted. "I must make sure I didn't miss anything... that I cut out every bit... that it isn't spreading."
"What are you talking about?" Lucanis' voice fell.
"The blight," Anders gave him a long look. "Do you not remember? The dragon..."
"I remember the dragon," Lucanis nodded. "I remember getting this gash... I remember you cleaning the wound afterwards... The blight? What are you saying?"
"The dragon was blighted," Anders bent over the wound, examining the bleeding. "I had to remove every bit of the blight from your wound before it infected your blood. I tried to be thorough... but if I missed something..."
"Death comes to all of us," Lucanis sighed. "How long?"
"It varies..."
"How do you know all of this?"
"I am a Grey Warden," Anders paused, looking up from the wound. "I carry the taint. I cannot be blighted, as I already am... but you are a different matter."
"He is not blighted," Spite stood next to Anders again. "I would sense it. Justice could hear the song through you..."
"What? Who's Justice?" Lucanis sat up. "Why do I get the feeling Spite knows you better than I?"
"He does..." Anders sighed. "He... well... perhaps I should tell you about Justice."
Hearthfire, 3E410 - Neve Gallus
"The Demon of Vyrantium has been missing for over a year," Dorian squinted at Neve. "He was just a man before he vanished. But you say he is an abomination now. Elaborate."
"The Demon of Vyrantium is not the man you want found," Neve inclined her head. "My job is to find your slave, not to reveal my sources."
"Your job just changed," Dorian glared at her. "There's a suspicion the Venatori were involved in Lucanis' disappearance. You are with the Shadow Dragons. If you maintain contacts inside Venatori circles, I have to know." He stood tall before her, every bit Magister Pavus rather than a friend.
"Well, I suppose I owe you some explanation," Neve smiled. "Shadow Dragons do not need to doubt my loyalty... although I can see how it looks." She paused but Dorian did not change his stance - he really wanted to hear it. "Oh very well... I have contacts inside the Venatori... Lucanis had been kidnapped. The underwater prison - you've heard of that, right? That's where he'd been taken." She paused again, hoping that was enough, but Dorian was still staring at her and she continued. "They make abominations there... the way they imprison a spirit inside a mortal... make it possess the mortal... it perverts the spirit and creates a demon, each of a different kind. Lucanis is a master assassin, they had high hopes for the demon in him."
"And yet Lucanis is still imprisoned," Dorian wasn't taking his eyes off Neve. "Or was until just recently. They haven't used his demon. Why not?"
"You know Lucanis - he's stubborn," Neve shrugged. "The demon came out all wrong."
"Then why not change it?" Dorian asked in an even tone that made everyone shiver.
"They can't," Neve met Dorian's gaze. "Once implanted, the demon is bonded with the mortal for good."
"Your source?" Dorian wasn't giving up.
"I... I am a double agent," Neve finally admitted. "But I am loyal to the Shadow Dragons, that I swear."
"A triple agent, more likely," Dorian smirked. "You forgot to mention the Threads."
"Well. That's old news," Neve smiled. "Besides, they know I'm with Shadow Dragons."
"So, Anders," Dorian changed the topic. "If he is with Lucanis, he was in the same underwater prison somehow. A Venatori prison," he pointed out. "Now talk."
"I don't know!" Neve exclaimed, shaking her head. "It weren't the Venatori who kidnapped him! Or at least I haven't heard of such a plan... Why do it? What for? He's just a slave..."
"Neve!" Dorian frowned. "Not good enough."
"Well... I do know why they might be interested..." she looked down. "But I am not aware of any plans regarding him yet! He's being chased by the Wardens, the Crows are after him, he's too hot for the Venatori."
"Who sent the Crows?"
"The Wardens, I would presume," Neve shrugged.
"You presume?" Dorian started sounding downright menacing.
"I don't have sources with the Wardens! Or the Crows!" Neve took a step back. "I'm good, but not omnipresent!"
"Then you will find out," Dorian said firmly. "Yes, you will have your fee, do not fret. I want to know who sent the Crows. Lucanis is a Crow. We need to know where we stand."
He turned his back to her and poured himself coffee, then took a seat by the fire at the head of the room.
"Come back when you have news," he said, then switched his attention to the coffee. Neve turned around and left.
...
"Well, that was intense," Varric spoke after a while. "You really run the Shadow Dragons."
"I do not," Dorian shook his head. "I am their contact at the Magisterium. Well... may be more than that," he smiled. "The Viper runs them day to day." He stirred his coffee, then took a sip, savouring the aroma. "The Viper does not tolerate spies."
...
"So then, Warden, you know how I feel," Lucanis was watching Anders pace the infirmary wing. Telling the story of Justice brought back a lot of memories and made Anders agitated. "You rid yourself of your demon - spirit turned demon - and I want to rid myself of mine," he glared at Spite who was watching both of them. "While we are in the Fade... the connection has to be severed. When we return to Mundus, Spite stays behind!"
"It's not the same, I cannot sever the bond!" Spite hissed. "I was forced into you, I am locked in! Justice possessed Anders on his own."
"Well, I cannot have a demon in my body!!" Lucanis retorted with anger. "One way or the other, you will be OUT!!!"
"Oh, there is a way," Spite said in an unexpectedly calm voice. "You have to die."
"That'll kill you as well, Spite," Anders pointed out.
"Good!" Lucanis frowned. "Spite will be dead! If that's what it takes..."
"Stop it!" Anders cried. "Just listen to yourselves! You are both Spite!"
"He is the reason I turned into Spite!" The demon jumped up. "I am a spirit of Determination! He made me into Spite!"
Lucanis jumped off his cot ignoring the pain. He lunged at Spite... but since Spite was just a spirit, he went right through him.
"Damned demon!!!" He shouted.
"You cannot touch me, you are no mage!" Spite shouted back, sending a lightning bolt at Lucanis. "I am the source of your magic! Without me, you have no wings!"
Lucanis paled but not because he was angry. He doubled over, pressing down on his abdomen.
"Shut it, Spite!!" Anders sent a lightning bolt of his own at Spite. "Enough! I didn't stitch him up so you could rip him apart!" He rushed to steady Lucanis. "Have some respect for my work! You'll tear that wound wide open! On your cot! Now! Come on! Lie down and let me see!"
"You just want to see me naked," Lucanis grinned but Anders was too preoccupied with Lucanis' bleeding wound to pay attention to his remarks as well.
...
"You are the worst patient ever," Anders frowned, having stitched up Lucanis' wound again. "You have to let it heal! Relax! Stay put! We cannot leave until you are back on your feet, but you keep jumping it..."
"Alright, alright, I get it!" Lucanis interrupted him impatiently. "You are not using magic for some reason... you want it to heal naturally... why, I cannot fathom," he frowned.
"I am using magic," Anders shook his head. "Why do you think you are not climbing the walls in pain? But there are limits... The blight is preventing the wound from closing... I must have missed something... Let me see..."
"You didn't miss anything, he isn't blighted," Spite came close and touched Anders' shoulder. Anders felt slight tingling of magic, an aura surrounding Spite. "You did all you could, the rest is up to him. Come now, Warden. If he was blighted, you would have sensed it."
...
Neve had to be careful. She did not intend for Dorian to find out her connection to the Venatori, but he turned out smarter than he looked.
"Perhaps I was wrong about him," Neve thought on her way home to a small apartment. "Perhaps he is more than a Magister... hmm... let's see..." She took out a little notebook full of her crisp and compact writing. "Inherited his Magisterial seat from his father just a few years previously... The first openly gay Magister... well, that's of no importance... founded the Shadow Dragons when his coalition with another Magister failed... slavery was not to be abolished through Magisterial reform. Hmm," she smirked to herself. "Nothing here suggests any kind of strength of character. Yet... hmm."
Neve slunk through a hole in the wall and climbed a few ladders before finally reaching her roof apartment in a poor and overpopulated part of Minrathous - the Dock Town.
She took off her expensive leather coat and hat and hung them up with care before changing into something casual and a lot less expensive. Her leg hurt after all the climbing - ladders were really not suited for an amputee. But she could not find another place to live, and besides she needed agility to get around. "Still not used to it," she took off her prosthesis. "Let's hope it will get better with time."
It had not been all that long since Neve lost the lower part of her leg. She was lucky to have retained the knee. "It could have been much worse," she thought, massaging the stump. She still felt the pain in the foot, even though the foot was no longer there.
Neve always maintained that she'd never dabbled in blood magic, never performed a ritual, never participated in one performed by another mage. She'd fought blood mages, that was all. That wasn't entirely true.
Neve joined the Venatori during the time of the Inquisition, that is, some ten years previously. It wasn't about any elven gods, it was about restoring Tevinter to its former glory. Not necessarily as the Imperium spanning all of known Thedas, but just as an Imperium of grandeur and splendour of times past. Tevinter was still home to the most amazing magic, but its splendour was all but gone, with even Minrathous crumbling to ruin in places. "In too many places," Neve would sigh passing derelict buildings covered in scaffolding. "We have floating towers held in midair by magic, but we cannot repair houses that require stone and mortar. That's a disgrace!" Perhaps the soporati deserved more consideration - the non-mages who formed the vast majority of Tevinter population. The people who worked with stone and mortar. The castless. "We mock the dwarves for their cast system... yet ours is the same," Neve had to admit to herself. By birth and upbringing she belonged to the upper class, but there was no family money to back it up. The Venatori movement started with mages like herself - all skill and attitude and no money. They were the new generation of Tevinter, they would raise their homeland out of dereliction and into grandeur.
In the days of the Inquisition the majority of the Venatori were only interested in ancient Tevinter artefacts and history that would help them elevate the status of their country. There was a small group that started worshiping a darkspawn lord, somehow believing he was a god... but the rest of the Venatori regarded that group as deluded fools. Unfortunately, it was that group that made the Venatori known to the rest of Thedas, and thus their reputation and intent was corrupted before they could state their case.
In those tumultuous times when the world was saved by the Inquisition, the Venatori were searching for a new purpose and for new means of achieving that purpose. And they found both in ancient history.
"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!"
That phrase by the darkspawn lord etched in everyone's consciousness. The lord turned out to be a thousand year old Tevinter Magister, one of seven to enter the Golden City and turn it black with corruption, so that the Maker turned his gaze away from his people. That was what the Chantry had claimed. But if the blighted Magister spoke the truth, if the Golden City was already black and the Maker's throne empty when they arrived... Then Tevinter was not to blame for the Blights in the first place. Tevinter deserved to be cleansed of that sin imposed upon it - the sin invented by the Chantry. Tevinter Magisters entered the Fade, reached the Golden City and found it black instead. And if they did not corrupt it, then the Blight was not their fault either. The Venatori were going to prove it once and for all. Tevinter would rise again.
"...and if we didn't create the Blight, then perhaps our methods weren't evil," one of the Venatori theorised during a meeting. "Blood magic, for instance. It's a way to power spells. It isn't blood which is evil, it depends which spells you cast..."
It went from there. They decided that blood magic deserved study, not blind dismissal as the Chantry used to preach. They would never use it for anything evil, for they were pure, they only wished the best for their country and people. Tevinter was built on magic, and why should they ignore blood magic since others chose not to ignore it... The argument among the young Venatori was no different to the argument among so many other mages all over Thedas. Blood magic was a forbidden topic, and thus it begged the question why.
Neve lost her leg in one of the rituals that went wrong. They summoned a demon, they were certain they could defeat it, they were all accomplished mages after all... But the demon was strong, perhaps they miscalculated, the battle was going badly... Neve set up a mine, it went off too soon... her foot got trapped in the debris...
Admittedly, such an accident could have happened for any number of reasons, including completely mundane. It wasn't the blood in the magic that caused it, it was overconfidence of the mages who thought they could handle something that they did not understand. It was a sobering incident for all involved. It prompted more study, more experiments, it drove some to seek to augment their power, and blood magic could help with that. A single life of an elven slave was all it took to elevate an average mage above his peers, to grant power to delve deeper into the mysteries of magic, to study harder, to create more... It was not too much to ask. It was for a good cause.
It was a typical slippery slope that led some of the mages to turn to the evils of blood magic, the very evils that they renounced to ever employ when it all started. But times had changed, and since the escape of the elven gods, those mages gained unknown new powers. They rose out of the ranks of the Venatori giving the group a bad name once again. They terrorised Minrathous with public displays of blood magic and human sacrifice, and the city guard simply stood by and did nothing. Corruption ran on many levels.
When Dorian and the Viper set up the Shadow Dragons, Neve was one of the first to join. She loathed what the Venatori had become, she still wanted the best for her country and people. She didn't have an opinion on slavery to start with, but the Shadow Dragons were against it, and she went with that. It was a good enough cause. Good but not sufficient to warrant exclusivity, and so Neve maintained her other affiliations as well - the Venatori included. Shadow Dragons did not need to know every detail, she figured. None among them would be able to guess, anyway. And now it seemed she was wrong.
"How am I supposed to know who hired the Crows?" She wondered aloud. "That's out of my reach..."
"The Crows send their regards!" A brick went through Neve's window, a shadow appeared and vanished again. An assassin? For her? She looked out, but the Crow was already gone. How strange. She returned to examine the brick and found a note.
"The Demon of Vyrantium has been missing for over a year," Dorian squinted at Neve. "He was just a man before he vanished. But you say he is an abomination now. Elaborate."
"The Demon of Vyrantium is not the man you want found," Neve inclined her head. "My job is to find your slave, not to reveal my sources."
"Your job just changed," Dorian glared at her. "There's a suspicion the Venatori were involved in Lucanis' disappearance. You are with the Shadow Dragons. If you maintain contacts inside Venatori circles, I have to know." He stood tall before her, every bit Magister Pavus rather than a friend.
"Well, I suppose I owe you some explanation," Neve smiled. "Shadow Dragons do not need to doubt my loyalty... although I can see how it looks." She paused but Dorian did not change his stance - he really wanted to hear it. "Oh very well... I have contacts inside the Venatori... Lucanis had been kidnapped. The underwater prison - you've heard of that, right? That's where he'd been taken." She paused again, hoping that was enough, but Dorian was still staring at her and she continued. "They make abominations there... the way they imprison a spirit inside a mortal... make it possess the mortal... it perverts the spirit and creates a demon, each of a different kind. Lucanis is a master assassin, they had high hopes for the demon in him."
"And yet Lucanis is still imprisoned," Dorian wasn't taking his eyes off Neve. "Or was until just recently. They haven't used his demon. Why not?"
"You know Lucanis - he's stubborn," Neve shrugged. "The demon came out all wrong."
"Then why not change it?" Dorian asked in an even tone that made everyone shiver.
"They can't," Neve met Dorian's gaze. "Once implanted, the demon is bonded with the mortal for good."
"Your source?" Dorian wasn't giving up.
"I... I am a double agent," Neve finally admitted. "But I am loyal to the Shadow Dragons, that I swear."
"A triple agent, more likely," Dorian smirked. "You forgot to mention the Threads."
"Well. That's old news," Neve smiled. "Besides, they know I'm with Shadow Dragons."
"So, Anders," Dorian changed the topic. "If he is with Lucanis, he was in the same underwater prison somehow. A Venatori prison," he pointed out. "Now talk."
"I don't know!" Neve exclaimed, shaking her head. "It weren't the Venatori who kidnapped him! Or at least I haven't heard of such a plan... Why do it? What for? He's just a slave..."
"Neve!" Dorian frowned. "Not good enough."
"Well... I do know why they might be interested..." she looked down. "But I am not aware of any plans regarding him yet! He's being chased by the Wardens, the Crows are after him, he's too hot for the Venatori."
"Who sent the Crows?"
"The Wardens, I would presume," Neve shrugged.
"You presume?" Dorian started sounding downright menacing.
"I don't have sources with the Wardens! Or the Crows!" Neve took a step back. "I'm good, but not omnipresent!"
"Then you will find out," Dorian said firmly. "Yes, you will have your fee, do not fret. I want to know who sent the Crows. Lucanis is a Crow. We need to know where we stand."
He turned his back to her and poured himself coffee, then took a seat by the fire at the head of the room.
"Come back when you have news," he said, then switched his attention to the coffee. Neve turned around and left.
...
"Well, that was intense," Varric spoke after a while. "You really run the Shadow Dragons."
"I do not," Dorian shook his head. "I am their contact at the Magisterium. Well... may be more than that," he smiled. "The Viper runs them day to day." He stirred his coffee, then took a sip, savouring the aroma. "The Viper does not tolerate spies."
...
"So then, Warden, you know how I feel," Lucanis was watching Anders pace the infirmary wing. Telling the story of Justice brought back a lot of memories and made Anders agitated. "You rid yourself of your demon - spirit turned demon - and I want to rid myself of mine," he glared at Spite who was watching both of them. "While we are in the Fade... the connection has to be severed. When we return to Mundus, Spite stays behind!"
"It's not the same, I cannot sever the bond!" Spite hissed. "I was forced into you, I am locked in! Justice possessed Anders on his own."
"Well, I cannot have a demon in my body!!" Lucanis retorted with anger. "One way or the other, you will be OUT!!!"
"Oh, there is a way," Spite said in an unexpectedly calm voice. "You have to die."
"That'll kill you as well, Spite," Anders pointed out.
"Good!" Lucanis frowned. "Spite will be dead! If that's what it takes..."
"Stop it!" Anders cried. "Just listen to yourselves! You are both Spite!"
"He is the reason I turned into Spite!" The demon jumped up. "I am a spirit of Determination! He made me into Spite!"
Lucanis jumped off his cot ignoring the pain. He lunged at Spite... but since Spite was just a spirit, he went right through him.
"Damned demon!!!" He shouted.
"You cannot touch me, you are no mage!" Spite shouted back, sending a lightning bolt at Lucanis. "I am the source of your magic! Without me, you have no wings!"
Lucanis paled but not because he was angry. He doubled over, pressing down on his abdomen.
"Shut it, Spite!!" Anders sent a lightning bolt of his own at Spite. "Enough! I didn't stitch him up so you could rip him apart!" He rushed to steady Lucanis. "Have some respect for my work! You'll tear that wound wide open! On your cot! Now! Come on! Lie down and let me see!"
"You just want to see me naked," Lucanis grinned but Anders was too preoccupied with Lucanis' bleeding wound to pay attention to his remarks as well.
...
"You are the worst patient ever," Anders frowned, having stitched up Lucanis' wound again. "You have to let it heal! Relax! Stay put! We cannot leave until you are back on your feet, but you keep jumping it..."
"Alright, alright, I get it!" Lucanis interrupted him impatiently. "You are not using magic for some reason... you want it to heal naturally... why, I cannot fathom," he frowned.
"I am using magic," Anders shook his head. "Why do you think you are not climbing the walls in pain? But there are limits... The blight is preventing the wound from closing... I must have missed something... Let me see..."
"You didn't miss anything, he isn't blighted," Spite came close and touched Anders' shoulder. Anders felt slight tingling of magic, an aura surrounding Spite. "You did all you could, the rest is up to him. Come now, Warden. If he was blighted, you would have sensed it."
...
Neve had to be careful. She did not intend for Dorian to find out her connection to the Venatori, but he turned out smarter than he looked.
"Perhaps I was wrong about him," Neve thought on her way home to a small apartment. "Perhaps he is more than a Magister... hmm... let's see..." She took out a little notebook full of her crisp and compact writing. "Inherited his Magisterial seat from his father just a few years previously... The first openly gay Magister... well, that's of no importance... founded the Shadow Dragons when his coalition with another Magister failed... slavery was not to be abolished through Magisterial reform. Hmm," she smirked to herself. "Nothing here suggests any kind of strength of character. Yet... hmm."
Neve slunk through a hole in the wall and climbed a few ladders before finally reaching her roof apartment in a poor and overpopulated part of Minrathous - the Dock Town.
She took off her expensive leather coat and hat and hung them up with care before changing into something casual and a lot less expensive. Her leg hurt after all the climbing - ladders were really not suited for an amputee. But she could not find another place to live, and besides she needed agility to get around. "Still not used to it," she took off her prosthesis. "Let's hope it will get better with time."
It had not been all that long since Neve lost the lower part of her leg. She was lucky to have retained the knee. "It could have been much worse," she thought, massaging the stump. She still felt the pain in the foot, even though the foot was no longer there.
Neve always maintained that she'd never dabbled in blood magic, never performed a ritual, never participated in one performed by another mage. She'd fought blood mages, that was all. That wasn't entirely true.
Neve joined the Venatori during the time of the Inquisition, that is, some ten years previously. It wasn't about any elven gods, it was about restoring Tevinter to its former glory. Not necessarily as the Imperium spanning all of known Thedas, but just as an Imperium of grandeur and splendour of times past. Tevinter was still home to the most amazing magic, but its splendour was all but gone, with even Minrathous crumbling to ruin in places. "In too many places," Neve would sigh passing derelict buildings covered in scaffolding. "We have floating towers held in midair by magic, but we cannot repair houses that require stone and mortar. That's a disgrace!" Perhaps the soporati deserved more consideration - the non-mages who formed the vast majority of Tevinter population. The people who worked with stone and mortar. The castless. "We mock the dwarves for their cast system... yet ours is the same," Neve had to admit to herself. By birth and upbringing she belonged to the upper class, but there was no family money to back it up. The Venatori movement started with mages like herself - all skill and attitude and no money. They were the new generation of Tevinter, they would raise their homeland out of dereliction and into grandeur.
In the days of the Inquisition the majority of the Venatori were only interested in ancient Tevinter artefacts and history that would help them elevate the status of their country. There was a small group that started worshiping a darkspawn lord, somehow believing he was a god... but the rest of the Venatori regarded that group as deluded fools. Unfortunately, it was that group that made the Venatori known to the rest of Thedas, and thus their reputation and intent was corrupted before they could state their case.
In those tumultuous times when the world was saved by the Inquisition, the Venatori were searching for a new purpose and for new means of achieving that purpose. And they found both in ancient history.
"Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!"
That phrase by the darkspawn lord etched in everyone's consciousness. The lord turned out to be a thousand year old Tevinter Magister, one of seven to enter the Golden City and turn it black with corruption, so that the Maker turned his gaze away from his people. That was what the Chantry had claimed. But if the blighted Magister spoke the truth, if the Golden City was already black and the Maker's throne empty when they arrived... Then Tevinter was not to blame for the Blights in the first place. Tevinter deserved to be cleansed of that sin imposed upon it - the sin invented by the Chantry. Tevinter Magisters entered the Fade, reached the Golden City and found it black instead. And if they did not corrupt it, then the Blight was not their fault either. The Venatori were going to prove it once and for all. Tevinter would rise again.
"...and if we didn't create the Blight, then perhaps our methods weren't evil," one of the Venatori theorised during a meeting. "Blood magic, for instance. It's a way to power spells. It isn't blood which is evil, it depends which spells you cast..."
It went from there. They decided that blood magic deserved study, not blind dismissal as the Chantry used to preach. They would never use it for anything evil, for they were pure, they only wished the best for their country and people. Tevinter was built on magic, and why should they ignore blood magic since others chose not to ignore it... The argument among the young Venatori was no different to the argument among so many other mages all over Thedas. Blood magic was a forbidden topic, and thus it begged the question why.
Neve lost her leg in one of the rituals that went wrong. They summoned a demon, they were certain they could defeat it, they were all accomplished mages after all... But the demon was strong, perhaps they miscalculated, the battle was going badly... Neve set up a mine, it went off too soon... her foot got trapped in the debris...
Admittedly, such an accident could have happened for any number of reasons, including completely mundane. It wasn't the blood in the magic that caused it, it was overconfidence of the mages who thought they could handle something that they did not understand. It was a sobering incident for all involved. It prompted more study, more experiments, it drove some to seek to augment their power, and blood magic could help with that. A single life of an elven slave was all it took to elevate an average mage above his peers, to grant power to delve deeper into the mysteries of magic, to study harder, to create more... It was not too much to ask. It was for a good cause.
It was a typical slippery slope that led some of the mages to turn to the evils of blood magic, the very evils that they renounced to ever employ when it all started. But times had changed, and since the escape of the elven gods, those mages gained unknown new powers. They rose out of the ranks of the Venatori giving the group a bad name once again. They terrorised Minrathous with public displays of blood magic and human sacrifice, and the city guard simply stood by and did nothing. Corruption ran on many levels.
When Dorian and the Viper set up the Shadow Dragons, Neve was one of the first to join. She loathed what the Venatori had become, she still wanted the best for her country and people. She didn't have an opinion on slavery to start with, but the Shadow Dragons were against it, and she went with that. It was a good enough cause. Good but not sufficient to warrant exclusivity, and so Neve maintained her other affiliations as well - the Venatori included. Shadow Dragons did not need to know every detail, she figured. None among them would be able to guess, anyway. And now it seemed she was wrong.
"How am I supposed to know who hired the Crows?" She wondered aloud. "That's out of my reach..."
"The Crows send their regards!" A brick went through Neve's window, a shadow appeared and vanished again. An assassin? For her? She looked out, but the Crow was already gone. How strange. She returned to examine the brick and found a note.
"The Crows are not normally in the business of delivering letters, but this contract requires it. Anders is no longer the target - you are. Or rather, you will be if you stray from your brief. Find him. Zara is most displeased - she lost Lucanis too. Return them both to Zara and live. Fail and receive a visit from the Crows. Next time we won't use a brick."
Hearthfire, 3E410 - A choice to live
"Why did you join Grey Wardens?" Lucanis tried to sit up, then settled on propping himself up on an elbow. "Since we're stuck here with nothing to do, let's get acquainted," he smiled.
"It was an accident, really," Anders smirked. "I didn't think of it at all. I got blighted. The choice was to die or to join Grey Wardens."
"So, blight does not always mean death," Lucanis looked up. "But you worked very hard to prevent it getting into my blood. Why?"
"Blight does mean death," Anders shook his head. "It takes longer with Grey Wardens, but the result is the same. We all hear the song one day..."
"The song?"
"The song of the Blight. The Call of the Black City. The moment you join Grey Wardens, your life is forfeit."
"It's no different than joining the Crows," Lucanis shrugged. "Especially if you are born into it, like me."
"The Crows don't fight darkspawn," Anders objected.
"Not if we can help it," Lucanis smiled. "But tell me about that accident that made you join Grey Wardens. Unless you'd rather not talk of it, of course."
"Well, I was imprisoned, waiting to be executed or made tranquil, which was probably worse... I was starving, too... They weren't taking any chances with a blood mage," he smirked. "I thought it was another feverish dream - someone coming to rescue me... but no, it was Wolf."
"You dreamt of a wolf?" Lucanis sounded surprised.
"No, it was his name - Wolf," Anders smiled. "The Hero of Ferelden, the Conqueror of the Fifth Blight, Warden-Commander Asgarsen..."
"Lord Inquisitor Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan," Lucanis nodded.
"No, not yet, it was just after the Blight. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden had just been reinstated. It had exactly two Wardens - Wolf and Alistair... yeah, those were the days..." He sighed and smiled to the memory.
"I've heard of that, didn't think it was true."
"Oh, it was true... there was another Grey Warden, a three hundred year old mage... Avernus... he's still alive, and Maker help you should you cross him," he smirked. "But he likes to keep to himself. The song is often loud in his ears, he says..."
"And so Warden-Commander came to visit you in prison," Lucanis prompted Anders to continue.
"Wolf, yes," Anders looked at him seeing someone entirely different. "I was asleep, he woke me up. Said it was time to go. Go where? I could barely move, I was so weak. They no longer bothered locking my cell, there was no point, I could not walk on my own... He said if we didn't leave, they would come for me to make me tranquil, that everything was prepared... He put my hand on his wrist... it was scarred. But he was not a mage! 'Can you perform your ritual without a staff?' He asked. What ritual? I was confused. 'We have to go, you need strength,' he insisted. He wanted me to use his blood!" Anders looked up, meeting Lucanis' gaze. "It was either that, or die or be made tranquil..."
"I know what I would choose," Lucanis nodded.
"Do you? I never used someone else's blood before! Only my own..." Anders paused, running a finger over the scars on his wrist. "Always my own... taking someone else's blood is exactly what is wrong with blood magic!"
"But he insisted."
"That we should leave. He was not giving up on me... I did wonder why... he later told me."
"And so? You took his blood," Lucanis prompted him again.
"Just enough to cross the lake," Anders nodded. "I knew exactly where to go, how much strength I would need to get across... I'd escaped a dozen times from that dungeon already, over the years..."
"What..?"
"The Circle Tower in Ferelden - that's where I grew up," Anders smiled. "I came to like that place in the end, even miss it. It was a prison of course, but it was also home..."
"That is weird."
"It's weird being a mage."
"So. You took his blood and escaped," Lucanis was speaking softly, giving Anders the time to relive the memory. "And arrived some place safe?"
"The Soldier's Peak - an old Grey Wardens' fortress up in the Highlands of Ferelden. I don't remember much of the trip. We stopped a few times, Wolf insisted I repeated the ritual, took more of his blood... then... I passed out, I think. I remember getting cold, so cold... especially once we got to the mountains... I was told later they strapped me to his back, covered with blankets to keep me warm... I... I still can't believe it." Anders looked up, Lucanis was watching him.
"He decided to keep you alive and he did everything in his power to make it so," Lucanis nodded. "It's like a contract."
"But a contract with whom? And why?"
"With himself," Lucanis shrugged. "Did he see you as his child, perhaps? His son?"
"No, he didn't," Anders smiled. "No. It wasn't that." He paused, then continued with his story. "We made it to the keep, there was no longer any need for blood, there was food and warmth and I should have recovered... but I was dying instead. I could feel it."
"The Blight?"
"Exactly. His Grey Warden taint. I didn't even know you could get infected."
"So then - what? They snapped their fingers and you became a Grey Warden?" Lucanis shook his head.
"Well... no. Avernus boosted my health - without blood magic. I could take my chances, the taint is not the same as the Blight. I could have survived... I could try, anyhow... I refused. I went through the Joining." Anders fell silent. He got up and walked to the opposite wall, picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire and drew the symbol of Joining: two griffons flanking a silver cup. He added a skull underneath. "It's deadly for many, but I survived."
"You could have walked away but you didn't... but why?"
"I don't rightly know, Lucanis," Anders shook his head. "I guess... I wanted to stay."
"I never had a choice like that," Lucanis sighed. "I was born to the Crows. My parents were killed when I was young, I was raised by my grandmother... I am nothing else but an assassin. I don't know how to be anything else."
"I remember Zevran saying that as well," Anders smiled. "He was a Crow too."
"The name sounds familiar..."
"Zevran Arainai, an elf... a slave..."
"From Antiva City?" Lucanis sat up. "Really? He is alive?"
"He was, last time I saw him," Anders grinned. "Always with Wolf. I think they left together."
"Left - where?"
"Left Thedas. Wolf returned home, and Zevran came with him."
"Waaaait... Wolf Asgarsen wasn't a Trevelyan then?"
"No, he was just Wolf Asgarsen, an agent from a far away land... He got recalled after some twenty years in Thedas... and he left... not long ago..." Anders' voice trailed off.
"You miss him."
"I do."
"That's family for you."
They sat looking into the fire for a time, then Anders got up and walked over to Lucanis.
"Lie down, let me see your wound. You've been upright for too long." He gently pushed him down on the pillows. "I'm not giving up on you yet."
"Why did you join Grey Wardens?" Lucanis tried to sit up, then settled on propping himself up on an elbow. "Since we're stuck here with nothing to do, let's get acquainted," he smiled.
"It was an accident, really," Anders smirked. "I didn't think of it at all. I got blighted. The choice was to die or to join Grey Wardens."
"So, blight does not always mean death," Lucanis looked up. "But you worked very hard to prevent it getting into my blood. Why?"
"Blight does mean death," Anders shook his head. "It takes longer with Grey Wardens, but the result is the same. We all hear the song one day..."
"The song?"
"The song of the Blight. The Call of the Black City. The moment you join Grey Wardens, your life is forfeit."
"It's no different than joining the Crows," Lucanis shrugged. "Especially if you are born into it, like me."
"The Crows don't fight darkspawn," Anders objected.
"Not if we can help it," Lucanis smiled. "But tell me about that accident that made you join Grey Wardens. Unless you'd rather not talk of it, of course."
"Well, I was imprisoned, waiting to be executed or made tranquil, which was probably worse... I was starving, too... They weren't taking any chances with a blood mage," he smirked. "I thought it was another feverish dream - someone coming to rescue me... but no, it was Wolf."
"You dreamt of a wolf?" Lucanis sounded surprised.
"No, it was his name - Wolf," Anders smiled. "The Hero of Ferelden, the Conqueror of the Fifth Blight, Warden-Commander Asgarsen..."
"Lord Inquisitor Wolf Asgarsen Trevelyan," Lucanis nodded.
"No, not yet, it was just after the Blight. The Grey Wardens Order of Ferelden had just been reinstated. It had exactly two Wardens - Wolf and Alistair... yeah, those were the days..." He sighed and smiled to the memory.
"I've heard of that, didn't think it was true."
"Oh, it was true... there was another Grey Warden, a three hundred year old mage... Avernus... he's still alive, and Maker help you should you cross him," he smirked. "But he likes to keep to himself. The song is often loud in his ears, he says..."
"And so Warden-Commander came to visit you in prison," Lucanis prompted Anders to continue.
"Wolf, yes," Anders looked at him seeing someone entirely different. "I was asleep, he woke me up. Said it was time to go. Go where? I could barely move, I was so weak. They no longer bothered locking my cell, there was no point, I could not walk on my own... He said if we didn't leave, they would come for me to make me tranquil, that everything was prepared... He put my hand on his wrist... it was scarred. But he was not a mage! 'Can you perform your ritual without a staff?' He asked. What ritual? I was confused. 'We have to go, you need strength,' he insisted. He wanted me to use his blood!" Anders looked up, meeting Lucanis' gaze. "It was either that, or die or be made tranquil..."
"I know what I would choose," Lucanis nodded.
"Do you? I never used someone else's blood before! Only my own..." Anders paused, running a finger over the scars on his wrist. "Always my own... taking someone else's blood is exactly what is wrong with blood magic!"
"But he insisted."
"That we should leave. He was not giving up on me... I did wonder why... he later told me."
"And so? You took his blood," Lucanis prompted him again.
"Just enough to cross the lake," Anders nodded. "I knew exactly where to go, how much strength I would need to get across... I'd escaped a dozen times from that dungeon already, over the years..."
"What..?"
"The Circle Tower in Ferelden - that's where I grew up," Anders smiled. "I came to like that place in the end, even miss it. It was a prison of course, but it was also home..."
"That is weird."
"It's weird being a mage."
"So. You took his blood and escaped," Lucanis was speaking softly, giving Anders the time to relive the memory. "And arrived some place safe?"
"The Soldier's Peak - an old Grey Wardens' fortress up in the Highlands of Ferelden. I don't remember much of the trip. We stopped a few times, Wolf insisted I repeated the ritual, took more of his blood... then... I passed out, I think. I remember getting cold, so cold... especially once we got to the mountains... I was told later they strapped me to his back, covered with blankets to keep me warm... I... I still can't believe it." Anders looked up, Lucanis was watching him.
"He decided to keep you alive and he did everything in his power to make it so," Lucanis nodded. "It's like a contract."
"But a contract with whom? And why?"
"With himself," Lucanis shrugged. "Did he see you as his child, perhaps? His son?"
"No, he didn't," Anders smiled. "No. It wasn't that." He paused, then continued with his story. "We made it to the keep, there was no longer any need for blood, there was food and warmth and I should have recovered... but I was dying instead. I could feel it."
"The Blight?"
"Exactly. His Grey Warden taint. I didn't even know you could get infected."
"So then - what? They snapped their fingers and you became a Grey Warden?" Lucanis shook his head.
"Well... no. Avernus boosted my health - without blood magic. I could take my chances, the taint is not the same as the Blight. I could have survived... I could try, anyhow... I refused. I went through the Joining." Anders fell silent. He got up and walked to the opposite wall, picked up a piece of charcoal from the fire and drew the symbol of Joining: two griffons flanking a silver cup. He added a skull underneath. "It's deadly for many, but I survived."
"You could have walked away but you didn't... but why?"
"I don't rightly know, Lucanis," Anders shook his head. "I guess... I wanted to stay."
"I never had a choice like that," Lucanis sighed. "I was born to the Crows. My parents were killed when I was young, I was raised by my grandmother... I am nothing else but an assassin. I don't know how to be anything else."
"I remember Zevran saying that as well," Anders smiled. "He was a Crow too."
"The name sounds familiar..."
"Zevran Arainai, an elf... a slave..."
"From Antiva City?" Lucanis sat up. "Really? He is alive?"
"He was, last time I saw him," Anders grinned. "Always with Wolf. I think they left together."
"Left - where?"
"Left Thedas. Wolf returned home, and Zevran came with him."
"Waaaait... Wolf Asgarsen wasn't a Trevelyan then?"
"No, he was just Wolf Asgarsen, an agent from a far away land... He got recalled after some twenty years in Thedas... and he left... not long ago..." Anders' voice trailed off.
"You miss him."
"I do."
"That's family for you."
They sat looking into the fire for a time, then Anders got up and walked over to Lucanis.
"Lie down, let me see your wound. You've been upright for too long." He gently pushed him down on the pillows. "I'm not giving up on you yet."
Frostfall, 3E410 - To face a god
"Hey, are you alright?" Lucanis touched Anders who was thrashing in his sleep. Anders sat up. "A nightmare?"
"An Archdemon," Anders rubbed his face and shook his head. "We have another Blight."
"What..? You get it from a dream?" Lucanis was perplexed.
"It's not a dream," Anders got up and started making coffee. "We know it's a Blight when an Archdemon rises to lead the darkspawn horde turning it into an army. The Archdemon speaks to all blighted creatures... including Grey Wardens. It's like the song I told you about. This is his pep talk."
"Ugh, sounds disgusting," Lucanis shivered.
"Terrifying, rather," Anders shot him a glance. "Because we look through the eyes of the Archdemon. We see the size of that horde. The horde that is coming for us, the horde that we must stop. The last Blight was before my time... I'd have to ask Alistair. But from what I've been told... this new horde looks worse than ever before."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"It is marching onto the Head Quarters. That's where I'm going," Anders said firmly.
"Then I am coming with you," Lucanis nodded.
"What..? Why? That's Grey Wardens business. No one needs to die in that battle, besides us," Anders shook his head.
"I'm coming, don't argue." Lucanis stood firm, Spite standing next to him, ready to merge in. "When are we leaving?"
"Soon..." Anders sighed. "Oh, if you must... I need to... well... I need to consult Solas..."
What Anders didn't tell Lucanis was that he thought he saw more than just a dragon in his vision. He saw a figure behind the dragon too, and he wondered whether that was one of the escaped elven gods. If they were the ones who created the Blight, it would figure, and it would make it all far worse than ever before. But Anders didn't want to say anything until he was sure. He went to another room and dropped to his knees to meditate. He hoped Solas would answer.
"Ah, there you are!" Solas did answer. "Yes, one of the gods is making her move! She's the one who created the Blight, and she plans to destroy Grey Wardens as a symbolic gesture. She does not need to do it really, but it will be bad for morale of everyone else."
"It's bad for my morale already," Anders said darkly. "But it explains why she'd target Head Quarters. Apart from the fact that the fortress is poorly manned."
"But it never fell before," Solas objected.
"It was never staffed with idiots before," Anders scowled. "They stand no chance."
"And you alone are going to turn the tide of that battle?" Solas laughed.
"No. But it is my duty to try."
"Well, it's your chance to see what you are dealing with, granted," Solas softened his stance. "She'll bring a dragon - an Archdemon, you know this, I expect. That dragon is what grants her immortality. You cannot harm her while that dragon lives."
"So, kill the Archdemon as with any other Blight," Anders summarised.
"Yes... but expect a few surprises. You are facing a god this time, mortal!" Solas glared at Anders, then shook his head. "Oh alright, I'll help you. There is an eluvian in the basement of the Lighthouse, you found it I trust? It will lead you directly to the Grey Wardens fortress. It is one way only, so take with you everything you need. And good luck to you, Warden."
...
"We won't return here, assuming we survive," Anders relayed his conversation with Solas to Lucanis. "We'll pick up all our things... such as they are... we should have one last good meal before leaving... Are you sure you want to go all the way? It won't be pretty."
"I am coming with you, I already said," Lucanis nodded. "You need me to fight that goddess."
"Dragon first!" Spite hissed. "Then we take out the goddess! It's a contract!"
"We'll try," Anders smiled.
...
The eluvian from the Lighthouse deposited Anders and Lucanis in the dungeons of the Head Quarters fortress. They looked around - there was no eluvian to go back. They heard fighting above, the goddess must have already started her assault.
"Darkspawn," Anders flared his nostrils. "The fortress is overrun by darkspawn!" He swore. "There was an attack some time ago, the darkspawn must have been testing the defenses. And found them lacking! Come on! Let's see how bad it is!"
They fought their way through some stray darkspawn in the dungeon and took a grand staircase going up - it looked like the main entrance. Anders had never been to the Head Quarters before, but if that fortress had any sense to its arrangement, there would be an outer wall and a keep in the middle, and the First Warden would likely preside over a large table in the central hall... for all the good it would do him. Anders scowled at the memory of his last encounter with the First Warden but pressed on. "He's likely going to try and arrest me," he scoffed. "Well, let him try. With darkspawn overrunning the fortress, he needs every Warden he can get, rebels included."
The grand staircase did indeed lead to a grand central hall with a grand table in the middle with the First Warden studying the map of the fortress. "A bit late for that," Anders thought.
"Where is darkspawn coming from?" He barked. "Report!"
"From everywhere," someone answered. Several Wardens stood around the table. "We are overwhelmed."
"Nonsense! This fortress never fell before! Not once! And it won't fall in this Blight either! Besides, there is no sign of an Archdemon, this may not even be a Blight!" He barked again and glared at everyone in turn.
"But the dreams..." someone tried to remind him.
"Dreams! Grey Wardens always get those nightmares! It doesn't mean a thing!" He shook his head and slammed his fist on the table. "We'll cut them all down!"
"Wardens! Prepare for battle!" Someone shouted and Anders thought that the voice was familiar.
"Warden Davrin! Get a grip of yourself! I am the Commander here!" First Warden cut him off. Davrin. So he felt the Call as well and got there, like every other Warden in the country.
"Yes, Sir!" Davrin stood to attention.
Anders grew angrier by the minute. All this show... while darkspawn were breaking through the gates.
"We have to act - NOW!" He approached the table. "Darkspawn will soon break through."
"Anders! Warden Anders! How dare you show your face! How dare you..!!! Guards!!!! Arrest him and throw him in the dungeons!!!"
"Well, that was predictable," Lucanis smirked to himself, staying at the back of the room. He noticed several other people that didn't look like Wardens.
"Sir?" Several Wardens standing next to Anders looked at the First Warden in surprise. "Arrest him? Now?"
"You heard me!!!" First Warden continued shouting.
Anders looked around the room. He spotted Antoine and a few other Wardens he knew, he saw looks of incredulity on the faces of others. Antoine nodded. Anders smiled.
"Well, I tried talking!" He took a step towards the First Warden and punched him in the jaw. "But there's no time for that."
It was hard to believe that a fierce warrior such as the First Warden would actually collapse from a single punch to the jaw, but there he was, rolling around under the table, unable to get up in his shiny suit of full ceremonial plate. Anders smirked and looked around. Taash was threatening Davrin with a punch of her own, while the rest of his merry crew were grinning ear to ear.
"Well, what do we do now?" A dwarven woman asked. "You punched the First Warden. But do you have a plan?" She grinned at Anders.
"Err... beat up the darkspawn?" He grinned back. "But jokes aside, we should expect an Archdemon."
"Agreed, we've all had the dream," the woman nodded. "I am Evka. What is your plan?"
"I don't think that Anders has a plan," Antoine stepped in. "But you do, dear. What is it?"
"I do," she nodded. "But he is still in command," she pointed at the First Warden under the table.
"You are in command," Anders shook his head and glared and Davrin who was about to protest. "Because you have a plan."
"Well, if you are all sure..." Evka looked at everyone in the room and all Wardens nodded. "Very well..."
Her plan was sound. They didn't have nearly enough Wardens to defend the fortress, so they decided to let it fall. They would focus their efforts on the Archdemon. A dragon would surely try to land on the tallest watch tower, the one with a large flat roof, and coincidentally, with a dragon trap. That's where they would face him. Whoever survived long enough.
"What about that trap? Can it be used?" Anders asked.
"It was built for the First Blight and never tested," Antoine shrugged. "Not once. We have no clue."
"Then what better time to test it but now!" Anders grinned and Evka nodded.
"We'll try," she agreed. "Good luck, everyone."
Ordinarily Wardens would agree who should slay the Archdemon because that person was going to die. In this case they dispensed with that tradition because hardly anyone expected to live anyway. Whoever gets to the dragon, kills it - it was as simple as that.
Darkspawn were everywhere and fighting was much too fierce for the few Wardens that could fight. They abandoned the keep and focused on reaching the watch tower, but it looked like the darkspawn were being directed to cut them off on every turn. That meant of course that the Wardens were headed in the right direction.
Anders and his team took the lead. Dorian dazzled them all with his battle spells, Emmrich summoned spirits of the dead to help, Bellara shot lightning at every approaching monster, Harding was weaving in and out of battle hardly seen, her bow as deadly as ever. Taash and Davrin took point in melee. Anders was leading the way with his fire and ice and Lucanis took on the largest foes swooping down on them on the spirit wings of Spite. It was a spectacular show, but the best part was still to come.
"Where is the Archdemon?" Davrin scowled at Anders during a pause in fighting. "There's plenty of darkspawn, but that's old news! What if that dragon lands some place else?"
"It cannot land any place else, it won't fit," Anders shook his head. "This fortress was built with a purpose. This tower is the only place..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence - the dragon was upon them, and the goddess rose in its wake.
"The dragooooooooon!!!!!" Davrin shouted and charged. His bravery was undeniable, his recklessness too.
"Davrin!!!" Anders shouted after him. "The trap!!!!"
The plan had been to lure the dragon into the trap, not to spook it off. After a few swings with his sword and a few burns from the dragon's fire, Davrin stepped back, heeding the plan.
Finally, between Davrin and Taash slashing at the dragon's nose and everyone else bombarding it with magic and arrows, the dragon was in position.
"NOW!!!!" Anders bellowed and the Wardens sprung the trap.
The dragon was caught. Great harpoons pierced its body and chains sliced through its wings. Davrin shot to it, aiming to plant his sword in its head... but the goddess behind the dragon had other plans.
"Rise, my pet!" She called to it extending blighted tendrils towards its body. "The Blight will give you new life!"
"And a new head!!!" Taash could not believe her eyes - the dragon grew a second head.
"What..?" Davrin stopped, perplexed. "Two heads..? So which one do I..?"
"Either head will do!!" Anders shouted, trying to snap him out of his indecision. "Take the left one!"
The battle continued.
"Solas did warn me about surprises," Anders swore under his breath. "Maker's arse! Two heads! And I bet when we cut them off, three new ones will grow back!"
He wasn't wrong, it was exactly what happened. Taash's cursing was curdling the air around them, but she was undeterred to remove every head that grew back. Davrin was charging again and again, hoping to be the one to deliver the final blow. When only one head remained and none were growing back, Anders caught sight of Lucanis.
"When the last head falls and the dragon is dead, take a shot at the goddess - it will be our only chance." Lucanis nodded and prepared to leap.
"And now you die, dragoooooon!" Everyone could hear Davrin's cry as he plunged his blade into the final head of the dragon. The dragon went limp and the goddess shrieked. Lucanis lept and Spite carried him right to the goddess' head, daggers extended. He did not miss - he slashed her neck, and yet she did not die.
"NOOOOO!!!" Her cry was heard for miles. She vanished, darkspawn fell and fighting subsided. The Wardens won the battle, if not the war.
"What?!" Davrin glared at the dead dragon. "Why am I still alive? I slayed that beast! I should be a hero! A martyr! What kind of double-crossing dragon was that?!"
"Plenty of Wardens died today," Evka came up to him. "Shut up."
"Hey, are you alright?" Lucanis touched Anders who was thrashing in his sleep. Anders sat up. "A nightmare?"
"An Archdemon," Anders rubbed his face and shook his head. "We have another Blight."
"What..? You get it from a dream?" Lucanis was perplexed.
"It's not a dream," Anders got up and started making coffee. "We know it's a Blight when an Archdemon rises to lead the darkspawn horde turning it into an army. The Archdemon speaks to all blighted creatures... including Grey Wardens. It's like the song I told you about. This is his pep talk."
"Ugh, sounds disgusting," Lucanis shivered.
"Terrifying, rather," Anders shot him a glance. "Because we look through the eyes of the Archdemon. We see the size of that horde. The horde that is coming for us, the horde that we must stop. The last Blight was before my time... I'd have to ask Alistair. But from what I've been told... this new horde looks worse than ever before."
"So, what are you going to do?"
"It is marching onto the Head Quarters. That's where I'm going," Anders said firmly.
"Then I am coming with you," Lucanis nodded.
"What..? Why? That's Grey Wardens business. No one needs to die in that battle, besides us," Anders shook his head.
"I'm coming, don't argue." Lucanis stood firm, Spite standing next to him, ready to merge in. "When are we leaving?"
"Soon..." Anders sighed. "Oh, if you must... I need to... well... I need to consult Solas..."
What Anders didn't tell Lucanis was that he thought he saw more than just a dragon in his vision. He saw a figure behind the dragon too, and he wondered whether that was one of the escaped elven gods. If they were the ones who created the Blight, it would figure, and it would make it all far worse than ever before. But Anders didn't want to say anything until he was sure. He went to another room and dropped to his knees to meditate. He hoped Solas would answer.
"Ah, there you are!" Solas did answer. "Yes, one of the gods is making her move! She's the one who created the Blight, and she plans to destroy Grey Wardens as a symbolic gesture. She does not need to do it really, but it will be bad for morale of everyone else."
"It's bad for my morale already," Anders said darkly. "But it explains why she'd target Head Quarters. Apart from the fact that the fortress is poorly manned."
"But it never fell before," Solas objected.
"It was never staffed with idiots before," Anders scowled. "They stand no chance."
"And you alone are going to turn the tide of that battle?" Solas laughed.
"No. But it is my duty to try."
"Well, it's your chance to see what you are dealing with, granted," Solas softened his stance. "She'll bring a dragon - an Archdemon, you know this, I expect. That dragon is what grants her immortality. You cannot harm her while that dragon lives."
"So, kill the Archdemon as with any other Blight," Anders summarised.
"Yes... but expect a few surprises. You are facing a god this time, mortal!" Solas glared at Anders, then shook his head. "Oh alright, I'll help you. There is an eluvian in the basement of the Lighthouse, you found it I trust? It will lead you directly to the Grey Wardens fortress. It is one way only, so take with you everything you need. And good luck to you, Warden."
...
"We won't return here, assuming we survive," Anders relayed his conversation with Solas to Lucanis. "We'll pick up all our things... such as they are... we should have one last good meal before leaving... Are you sure you want to go all the way? It won't be pretty."
"I am coming with you, I already said," Lucanis nodded. "You need me to fight that goddess."
"Dragon first!" Spite hissed. "Then we take out the goddess! It's a contract!"
"We'll try," Anders smiled.
...
The eluvian from the Lighthouse deposited Anders and Lucanis in the dungeons of the Head Quarters fortress. They looked around - there was no eluvian to go back. They heard fighting above, the goddess must have already started her assault.
"Darkspawn," Anders flared his nostrils. "The fortress is overrun by darkspawn!" He swore. "There was an attack some time ago, the darkspawn must have been testing the defenses. And found them lacking! Come on! Let's see how bad it is!"
They fought their way through some stray darkspawn in the dungeon and took a grand staircase going up - it looked like the main entrance. Anders had never been to the Head Quarters before, but if that fortress had any sense to its arrangement, there would be an outer wall and a keep in the middle, and the First Warden would likely preside over a large table in the central hall... for all the good it would do him. Anders scowled at the memory of his last encounter with the First Warden but pressed on. "He's likely going to try and arrest me," he scoffed. "Well, let him try. With darkspawn overrunning the fortress, he needs every Warden he can get, rebels included."
The grand staircase did indeed lead to a grand central hall with a grand table in the middle with the First Warden studying the map of the fortress. "A bit late for that," Anders thought.
"Where is darkspawn coming from?" He barked. "Report!"
"From everywhere," someone answered. Several Wardens stood around the table. "We are overwhelmed."
"Nonsense! This fortress never fell before! Not once! And it won't fall in this Blight either! Besides, there is no sign of an Archdemon, this may not even be a Blight!" He barked again and glared at everyone in turn.
"But the dreams..." someone tried to remind him.
"Dreams! Grey Wardens always get those nightmares! It doesn't mean a thing!" He shook his head and slammed his fist on the table. "We'll cut them all down!"
"Wardens! Prepare for battle!" Someone shouted and Anders thought that the voice was familiar.
"Warden Davrin! Get a grip of yourself! I am the Commander here!" First Warden cut him off. Davrin. So he felt the Call as well and got there, like every other Warden in the country.
"Yes, Sir!" Davrin stood to attention.
Anders grew angrier by the minute. All this show... while darkspawn were breaking through the gates.
"We have to act - NOW!" He approached the table. "Darkspawn will soon break through."
"Anders! Warden Anders! How dare you show your face! How dare you..!!! Guards!!!! Arrest him and throw him in the dungeons!!!"
"Well, that was predictable," Lucanis smirked to himself, staying at the back of the room. He noticed several other people that didn't look like Wardens.
"Sir?" Several Wardens standing next to Anders looked at the First Warden in surprise. "Arrest him? Now?"
"You heard me!!!" First Warden continued shouting.
Anders looked around the room. He spotted Antoine and a few other Wardens he knew, he saw looks of incredulity on the faces of others. Antoine nodded. Anders smiled.
"Well, I tried talking!" He took a step towards the First Warden and punched him in the jaw. "But there's no time for that."
It was hard to believe that a fierce warrior such as the First Warden would actually collapse from a single punch to the jaw, but there he was, rolling around under the table, unable to get up in his shiny suit of full ceremonial plate. Anders smirked and looked around. Taash was threatening Davrin with a punch of her own, while the rest of his merry crew were grinning ear to ear.
"Well, what do we do now?" A dwarven woman asked. "You punched the First Warden. But do you have a plan?" She grinned at Anders.
"Err... beat up the darkspawn?" He grinned back. "But jokes aside, we should expect an Archdemon."
"Agreed, we've all had the dream," the woman nodded. "I am Evka. What is your plan?"
"I don't think that Anders has a plan," Antoine stepped in. "But you do, dear. What is it?"
"I do," she nodded. "But he is still in command," she pointed at the First Warden under the table.
"You are in command," Anders shook his head and glared and Davrin who was about to protest. "Because you have a plan."
"Well, if you are all sure..." Evka looked at everyone in the room and all Wardens nodded. "Very well..."
Her plan was sound. They didn't have nearly enough Wardens to defend the fortress, so they decided to let it fall. They would focus their efforts on the Archdemon. A dragon would surely try to land on the tallest watch tower, the one with a large flat roof, and coincidentally, with a dragon trap. That's where they would face him. Whoever survived long enough.
"What about that trap? Can it be used?" Anders asked.
"It was built for the First Blight and never tested," Antoine shrugged. "Not once. We have no clue."
"Then what better time to test it but now!" Anders grinned and Evka nodded.
"We'll try," she agreed. "Good luck, everyone."
Ordinarily Wardens would agree who should slay the Archdemon because that person was going to die. In this case they dispensed with that tradition because hardly anyone expected to live anyway. Whoever gets to the dragon, kills it - it was as simple as that.
Darkspawn were everywhere and fighting was much too fierce for the few Wardens that could fight. They abandoned the keep and focused on reaching the watch tower, but it looked like the darkspawn were being directed to cut them off on every turn. That meant of course that the Wardens were headed in the right direction.
Anders and his team took the lead. Dorian dazzled them all with his battle spells, Emmrich summoned spirits of the dead to help, Bellara shot lightning at every approaching monster, Harding was weaving in and out of battle hardly seen, her bow as deadly as ever. Taash and Davrin took point in melee. Anders was leading the way with his fire and ice and Lucanis took on the largest foes swooping down on them on the spirit wings of Spite. It was a spectacular show, but the best part was still to come.
"Where is the Archdemon?" Davrin scowled at Anders during a pause in fighting. "There's plenty of darkspawn, but that's old news! What if that dragon lands some place else?"
"It cannot land any place else, it won't fit," Anders shook his head. "This fortress was built with a purpose. This tower is the only place..."
He didn't get to finish his sentence - the dragon was upon them, and the goddess rose in its wake.
"The dragooooooooon!!!!!" Davrin shouted and charged. His bravery was undeniable, his recklessness too.
"Davrin!!!" Anders shouted after him. "The trap!!!!"
The plan had been to lure the dragon into the trap, not to spook it off. After a few swings with his sword and a few burns from the dragon's fire, Davrin stepped back, heeding the plan.
Finally, between Davrin and Taash slashing at the dragon's nose and everyone else bombarding it with magic and arrows, the dragon was in position.
"NOW!!!!" Anders bellowed and the Wardens sprung the trap.
The dragon was caught. Great harpoons pierced its body and chains sliced through its wings. Davrin shot to it, aiming to plant his sword in its head... but the goddess behind the dragon had other plans.
"Rise, my pet!" She called to it extending blighted tendrils towards its body. "The Blight will give you new life!"
"And a new head!!!" Taash could not believe her eyes - the dragon grew a second head.
"What..?" Davrin stopped, perplexed. "Two heads..? So which one do I..?"
"Either head will do!!" Anders shouted, trying to snap him out of his indecision. "Take the left one!"
The battle continued.
"Solas did warn me about surprises," Anders swore under his breath. "Maker's arse! Two heads! And I bet when we cut them off, three new ones will grow back!"
He wasn't wrong, it was exactly what happened. Taash's cursing was curdling the air around them, but she was undeterred to remove every head that grew back. Davrin was charging again and again, hoping to be the one to deliver the final blow. When only one head remained and none were growing back, Anders caught sight of Lucanis.
"When the last head falls and the dragon is dead, take a shot at the goddess - it will be our only chance." Lucanis nodded and prepared to leap.
"And now you die, dragoooooon!" Everyone could hear Davrin's cry as he plunged his blade into the final head of the dragon. The dragon went limp and the goddess shrieked. Lucanis lept and Spite carried him right to the goddess' head, daggers extended. He did not miss - he slashed her neck, and yet she did not die.
"NOOOOO!!!" Her cry was heard for miles. She vanished, darkspawn fell and fighting subsided. The Wardens won the battle, if not the war.
"What?!" Davrin glared at the dead dragon. "Why am I still alive? I slayed that beast! I should be a hero! A martyr! What kind of double-crossing dragon was that?!"
"Plenty of Wardens died today," Evka came up to him. "Shut up."
Frostfall, 3E410 - A silver cup
"There you are," Dorian walked up to Anders. "We've been looking for you. But it's hard to find someone in the Fade."
"We were at the Lighthouse," Anders smiled. "We could not leave - Lucanis was injured."
"In the battle against the dragon in Treviso," Dorian nodded. "We figured as much."
"Glad you all made it here."
"Solas contacted me... You aren't the only mage around, it appears," Dorian smirked. "He really is Fen'Harel, you know. As good as a god. Entered my dreams and everything."
"Mighty annoying, if you ask me," Anders glared. "It's worse at the Lighthouse."
"I would imagine it is," Dorian nodded.
They stood in silence for a while, looking over the site of the battle with the goddess' Archdemon. The dragon lay dead, with all its heads cut off, but the goddess escaped.
"I failed," Lucanis approached them. "I did not kill her."
"You wounded her but she did not die," Anders corrected him. "She is a goddess, after all. Now we know it isn't that simple."
"But we killed her Archdemon," Dorian pointed out. "She is now mortal again. She can be killed."
"Then next time we strike several times!" Lucanis said forcefully. "I shall not fail again!"
The Wardens that were still alive, started laying out the dead for the pyre.
"A lot of Wardens died today," Anders watched for a while. "I need to stay and help. I'll find you later."
No one argued. Davrin and Anders joined the other Wardens caring for the wounded and the dead. Anders got busy healing. Emmrich too remained, providing last rites to the dead. Not many of them were Nevarran, but he adapted to serve other traditions as well. Souls were souls, they all needed release.
It's been many hours, and Anders was getting tired. He'd already cut his wrists several times to boost his magic to continue healing. Evka checked on him every now and again, and finally declared that the healer needed healing himself.
"Since you put me in command, this is an order: you must rest," she took his arm. "We have food, someone is actually cooking something... one of your friends, I believe." She escorted him to a make-shift kitchen. Lucanis was stirring in a cauldron over a campfire. There was roast and bread and... coffee.
"I did not know I could cook in a cauldron, but after all it's just a pot," he smiled. "I don't know what it is, but the others say it is stew."
"I'll have coffee," Anders dropped to the ground before the fire. "I am too tired to eat."
"Sleep first, perhaps?" Lucanis handed him a cup. "There are tents over there."
"There are wounded over there," Anders pointed in the opposite direction. "Wounded in need of healing."
"Alright, but you must use my blood from now on," Lucanis straightened up.
"What..? No! No, I won't," Anders glared at him.
"Then sleep. Eat. Rest. The tents are over there." Lucanis stood firm.
People were coming and going, the warmth of the fire made Anders feel just how tired he was. He gave in. Sleep first. Then eat. Then...
"He doesn't know when to stop, does he?" Evka was helping Lucanis move Anders onto a bedroll. "Is he always like that?"
"I think it is in his nature."
...
It's been a few days and things stabilised. The dead had been consigned to the flames, much to Emmrich's dismay at such a barbaric tradition. The wounded either joined the dead or recovered. The fortress lay in ruin, or at least that's how it looked, with its central dome collapsed. There were still enough livable spaces left, but the question was whether the Wardens could bear to stay in it.
"The archives and the vaults are still intact," Evka summarised the situation. "That's the important part. The question is whether we should leave a small contingent of Wardens here to guard it. I don't envy anyone who has to remain..."
To her surprise, several Wardens stepped forward.
"Someone must stay," one of them said. "Wardens will be returning here, it is a symbol of our Order. Yes, the central dome lies in ruin, but the heart is still beating. My wounds are too grave for any serious fighting, but a few stray darkspawn will not take me down. This fortress is a beacon. It must remain lit."
And so it was decided. Wardens whose wounds needed time to heal, would remain. The others would move to an outpost to the East, still in the Anderfels - another Grey Warden fortress that lay abandoned for centuries when it became too costly to maintain. It too was partly ruined, but enough of it still remained.
Anders stood on the battlements looking around. He wished he could have seen the Head Quarters when it was still intact.
"The library was over there," Davrin joined him, no longer clad in his shiny armour. "I think much of it is still intact under the rubble. The dorms are that way," he pointed out another part of the fortress. "They were always like that - half in ruin. Drafty and cold... and I would not have it any other way."
"You trained here?" Anders looked at him. With all the animosity they never took the time to talk.
"Yes, this was my home," Davrin nodded. "For years... First as a recruit, then as a young Warden... training others, no less," he smirked. "It was so quiet... The Blight had been defeated not twenty years before, the Wardens could relax... Yes, something was going on in the South... but you hardly heard of it here."
"It wasn't a Blight, I understand why it didn't make ripples," Anders agreed.
"Darkspawn was still involved, we should not have ignored it," Davrin said darkly.
"We didn't," Anders shot him a glance. "The split in the Order of the Grey started centuries before the last Blight. Regional chapters were not good enough for the Head Quarters..."
"Fortresses being abandoned..."
"Outposts left to rot..."
"Our ranks shrank to nothing..."
"Almost," Anders smiled. "There are still two or three Wardens in Ferelden."
"I read about that... about the last Blight," Davrin looked down and shuffled uncomfortably. "Two Wardens raising an army... I didn't think it was true."
"Yeah... that's what Alistair said when he returned from the Head Quarters having delivered his report... He said he wasn't believed."
"His report must still be here," Davrin looked at Anders. "The archives are largely intact. You could take it back to Ferelden..."
"No, we know what happened in Ferelden. Let the records stay here for future Wardens to find."
"You think we still have a future?" Davrin looked up.
"Has darkspawn been defeated? No. Grey Wardens will rise again, of that I am certain."
Anders patted Davrin on the back. He simply was a young Warden, filled with the glory of the Order, having trained at the HQ. But the glory just lost its luster, and Davrin got a glimpse of the real Blight. "Just a glimpse," Anders thought, watching Davrin brood. "He saw just one real battle... But he is no longer drunk."
"Come on," Anders said aloud. "We should return to Minrathous. Regroup. This Blight is led by gods rather than an Archdemon, but it is still a Blight."
"The Wardens..." Davrin started protesting, but Anders cut him off.
"The same as Wolf and Alistair who raised an army of non-Wardens during the last Blight, we have to get allies from every corner of Northern Thedas to face the gods. Wardens included. But not just them. You can stay here if you prefer, but I must return to Minrathous."
"No... you are right... Warden," Davrin said slowly, then looked Anders in the eye, calling him "Warden" for the first time since they met. "This Blight is bigger than ever."
...
Anders did not hurry to leave. He would not return to the Head Quarters again. Next time he needed to speak to the Wardens, he would go to the other fortress where Evka was leading the troops. Yet something still felt unfinished. "Grey Wardens will rise again," he repeated to himself what he had said to Davrin. "Not if we cannot perform the Joining... Where does Archdemon blood come from?" He wondered. "You only need a drop for each mixture, but even so, it would run out... but it never does. They say it is stored in a vault at the HQ... somewhere here... I should see."
He went to the library - the vaults were said to be beneath it. The library was largely intact, the archives below it too, and the vaults in the depths were as well protected as ever. Massive doors were guarding whatever was inside. It all looked secure, and Anders left - after all, they did have Archdemon blood at Vigil Keep in Ferelden, and if they had it, then other chapters likely had it too, if any other chapters remained...
He passed through the archives, looking at huge bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and leather-encased scrolls - it all looked secure. There were chests and cupboards as well, all intact. A few items were scattered around the floor, not surprising after all the fighting. Anders picked them up, returned them to the shelves. Books, scrolls, boxes... what an archive should be. Then something else caught his eye in the corner - something made of metal. He picked it up - it was a silver cup. "I drank from this one," Anders froze. It was the cup used in his Joining.
...
"You drank from this cup," Anders heard a voice far away. "Take it with you."
He was at the Head Quarters fortress before it got destroyed, yet it was already in ruin. Grey Warden symbols were crumbling into dust - busts, plaques and statues celebrating First Wardens of all ages. The only thing that remained, was a single griffon crest mounted over the door. "The crest is in my blood, not on my armour," Anders thought. It was something that Wolf used to say whenever people complained that his Wardens did not look the part. Vigil Keep was not covered in crests, and Soldier's Peak had hardly any insignia either. But the Head Quarters... "Oh dear."
Anders walked through a gallery lined with illustrouos suits of armour, each used to belong to a First Warden of the past. Each First Warden apparently fell in battle, yet their armour hardly had a scratch. "Just how deep did the corruption go?" Anders wondered. Real Grey Wardens were not entombed at the fortress. Real Grey Wardens died in the Deep Roads when the Calling blotted out all else, their corpses buried under all the darkspawn they'd slain, consumed by the blight, almost turned into darkspawn themselves... except for that crest in their blood... Grey Warden taint wasn't the same as darkspawn.
"It's time to go, let the past remain in the past," the voice seemed to come closer.
The words spoken at the Joining rang in Anders' ears. A promise to those who did not survive it. Yet clearly, some were not satisfied with the shadows. Some were seeking glory. Should they be remembered as well? Did they even deserve it? Anders was getting angry. All this guilding! Shiny armours, rich decor, opulence on every turn... how could it have happened? Perhaps it was right that the Head Quarters should fall.
He looked at the cup in his hand. He knew it was the one he drank from - it bore the scars of Ostagar, it was dented and scratched, but the griffon crest still marked it for what it was. Yes, he would take it home.
"Come, let us not linguer in the past," the voice was saying. "Grey Wardens have a duty still. The gods await."
...
"You've been sitting here for hours. I was getting worried." Lucanis sat next to Anders on the floor amidst Grey Warden archives.
"This cup..." Anders was still holding it.
"...brought back memories, I see," Lucanis nodded.
"Yeah... and thoughts..."
"Doubts... But this is who you are. The crest is in your blood, not on your armour."
"The same as yours," Anders shot him a glance.
"The Crows? Oh yes," Lucanis nodded. "I have no cause or duty, but my life is forfeit all the same."
"Have you ever wanted it to be different?"
"I have, which is why I never married," he looked straight ahead, seeing someone in the distance. "My children would have been Crows, my wife too, even though she was no assassin... the woman I longed to marry and never did."
"It's like our taint... Grey Wardens cannot have children."
They sat in silence for a while, then Lucanis moved closer and put his arm around Anders' shoulders.
"We are much the same, you and I," he said softly and Anders felt his breath on the skin. "You like walking close to the edge."
"And you rush head long into danger," Anders smiled.
"Good thing I've got wings."
...
"Right, you come with me," Anders said decisively. "The gods can wait."
"Where are we going?" Lucanis was still holding Anders close, still feeling the warmth of his breath, inhaling his scent, sweet with a biting finish.
"Soldier's Peak..." Anders smiled and kissed him again. "Home. They'll say silly things, but they mean well."
"'A Warden and his Crow' is what they are going to say," Lucanis grinned. "That's alright, I don't mind."
"As long as you are prepared," Anders nodded. "Hey, Spite! Give us a portal."
There was no answer.
"Determination! Come on! There's someone there I want you to meet."
"Avernus?" They heard Spite's hissing voice and a spectral crow landed on Lucanis' shoulder. "It's been a while..."
A portal appeared.
"I did not know Spite could do that!" Lucanis stared at it in fascination.
"Come," Anders got up. "Before he changes his mind."
"There you are," Dorian walked up to Anders. "We've been looking for you. But it's hard to find someone in the Fade."
"We were at the Lighthouse," Anders smiled. "We could not leave - Lucanis was injured."
"In the battle against the dragon in Treviso," Dorian nodded. "We figured as much."
"Glad you all made it here."
"Solas contacted me... You aren't the only mage around, it appears," Dorian smirked. "He really is Fen'Harel, you know. As good as a god. Entered my dreams and everything."
"Mighty annoying, if you ask me," Anders glared. "It's worse at the Lighthouse."
"I would imagine it is," Dorian nodded.
They stood in silence for a while, looking over the site of the battle with the goddess' Archdemon. The dragon lay dead, with all its heads cut off, but the goddess escaped.
"I failed," Lucanis approached them. "I did not kill her."
"You wounded her but she did not die," Anders corrected him. "She is a goddess, after all. Now we know it isn't that simple."
"But we killed her Archdemon," Dorian pointed out. "She is now mortal again. She can be killed."
"Then next time we strike several times!" Lucanis said forcefully. "I shall not fail again!"
The Wardens that were still alive, started laying out the dead for the pyre.
"A lot of Wardens died today," Anders watched for a while. "I need to stay and help. I'll find you later."
No one argued. Davrin and Anders joined the other Wardens caring for the wounded and the dead. Anders got busy healing. Emmrich too remained, providing last rites to the dead. Not many of them were Nevarran, but he adapted to serve other traditions as well. Souls were souls, they all needed release.
It's been many hours, and Anders was getting tired. He'd already cut his wrists several times to boost his magic to continue healing. Evka checked on him every now and again, and finally declared that the healer needed healing himself.
"Since you put me in command, this is an order: you must rest," she took his arm. "We have food, someone is actually cooking something... one of your friends, I believe." She escorted him to a make-shift kitchen. Lucanis was stirring in a cauldron over a campfire. There was roast and bread and... coffee.
"I did not know I could cook in a cauldron, but after all it's just a pot," he smiled. "I don't know what it is, but the others say it is stew."
"I'll have coffee," Anders dropped to the ground before the fire. "I am too tired to eat."
"Sleep first, perhaps?" Lucanis handed him a cup. "There are tents over there."
"There are wounded over there," Anders pointed in the opposite direction. "Wounded in need of healing."
"Alright, but you must use my blood from now on," Lucanis straightened up.
"What..? No! No, I won't," Anders glared at him.
"Then sleep. Eat. Rest. The tents are over there." Lucanis stood firm.
People were coming and going, the warmth of the fire made Anders feel just how tired he was. He gave in. Sleep first. Then eat. Then...
"He doesn't know when to stop, does he?" Evka was helping Lucanis move Anders onto a bedroll. "Is he always like that?"
"I think it is in his nature."
...
It's been a few days and things stabilised. The dead had been consigned to the flames, much to Emmrich's dismay at such a barbaric tradition. The wounded either joined the dead or recovered. The fortress lay in ruin, or at least that's how it looked, with its central dome collapsed. There were still enough livable spaces left, but the question was whether the Wardens could bear to stay in it.
"The archives and the vaults are still intact," Evka summarised the situation. "That's the important part. The question is whether we should leave a small contingent of Wardens here to guard it. I don't envy anyone who has to remain..."
To her surprise, several Wardens stepped forward.
"Someone must stay," one of them said. "Wardens will be returning here, it is a symbol of our Order. Yes, the central dome lies in ruin, but the heart is still beating. My wounds are too grave for any serious fighting, but a few stray darkspawn will not take me down. This fortress is a beacon. It must remain lit."
And so it was decided. Wardens whose wounds needed time to heal, would remain. The others would move to an outpost to the East, still in the Anderfels - another Grey Warden fortress that lay abandoned for centuries when it became too costly to maintain. It too was partly ruined, but enough of it still remained.
Anders stood on the battlements looking around. He wished he could have seen the Head Quarters when it was still intact.
"The library was over there," Davrin joined him, no longer clad in his shiny armour. "I think much of it is still intact under the rubble. The dorms are that way," he pointed out another part of the fortress. "They were always like that - half in ruin. Drafty and cold... and I would not have it any other way."
"You trained here?" Anders looked at him. With all the animosity they never took the time to talk.
"Yes, this was my home," Davrin nodded. "For years... First as a recruit, then as a young Warden... training others, no less," he smirked. "It was so quiet... The Blight had been defeated not twenty years before, the Wardens could relax... Yes, something was going on in the South... but you hardly heard of it here."
"It wasn't a Blight, I understand why it didn't make ripples," Anders agreed.
"Darkspawn was still involved, we should not have ignored it," Davrin said darkly.
"We didn't," Anders shot him a glance. "The split in the Order of the Grey started centuries before the last Blight. Regional chapters were not good enough for the Head Quarters..."
"Fortresses being abandoned..."
"Outposts left to rot..."
"Our ranks shrank to nothing..."
"Almost," Anders smiled. "There are still two or three Wardens in Ferelden."
"I read about that... about the last Blight," Davrin looked down and shuffled uncomfortably. "Two Wardens raising an army... I didn't think it was true."
"Yeah... that's what Alistair said when he returned from the Head Quarters having delivered his report... He said he wasn't believed."
"His report must still be here," Davrin looked at Anders. "The archives are largely intact. You could take it back to Ferelden..."
"No, we know what happened in Ferelden. Let the records stay here for future Wardens to find."
"You think we still have a future?" Davrin looked up.
"Has darkspawn been defeated? No. Grey Wardens will rise again, of that I am certain."
Anders patted Davrin on the back. He simply was a young Warden, filled with the glory of the Order, having trained at the HQ. But the glory just lost its luster, and Davrin got a glimpse of the real Blight. "Just a glimpse," Anders thought, watching Davrin brood. "He saw just one real battle... But he is no longer drunk."
"Come on," Anders said aloud. "We should return to Minrathous. Regroup. This Blight is led by gods rather than an Archdemon, but it is still a Blight."
"The Wardens..." Davrin started protesting, but Anders cut him off.
"The same as Wolf and Alistair who raised an army of non-Wardens during the last Blight, we have to get allies from every corner of Northern Thedas to face the gods. Wardens included. But not just them. You can stay here if you prefer, but I must return to Minrathous."
"No... you are right... Warden," Davrin said slowly, then looked Anders in the eye, calling him "Warden" for the first time since they met. "This Blight is bigger than ever."
...
Anders did not hurry to leave. He would not return to the Head Quarters again. Next time he needed to speak to the Wardens, he would go to the other fortress where Evka was leading the troops. Yet something still felt unfinished. "Grey Wardens will rise again," he repeated to himself what he had said to Davrin. "Not if we cannot perform the Joining... Where does Archdemon blood come from?" He wondered. "You only need a drop for each mixture, but even so, it would run out... but it never does. They say it is stored in a vault at the HQ... somewhere here... I should see."
He went to the library - the vaults were said to be beneath it. The library was largely intact, the archives below it too, and the vaults in the depths were as well protected as ever. Massive doors were guarding whatever was inside. It all looked secure, and Anders left - after all, they did have Archdemon blood at Vigil Keep in Ferelden, and if they had it, then other chapters likely had it too, if any other chapters remained...
He passed through the archives, looking at huge bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes and leather-encased scrolls - it all looked secure. There were chests and cupboards as well, all intact. A few items were scattered around the floor, not surprising after all the fighting. Anders picked them up, returned them to the shelves. Books, scrolls, boxes... what an archive should be. Then something else caught his eye in the corner - something made of metal. He picked it up - it was a silver cup. "I drank from this one," Anders froze. It was the cup used in his Joining.
...
"You drank from this cup," Anders heard a voice far away. "Take it with you."
He was at the Head Quarters fortress before it got destroyed, yet it was already in ruin. Grey Warden symbols were crumbling into dust - busts, plaques and statues celebrating First Wardens of all ages. The only thing that remained, was a single griffon crest mounted over the door. "The crest is in my blood, not on my armour," Anders thought. It was something that Wolf used to say whenever people complained that his Wardens did not look the part. Vigil Keep was not covered in crests, and Soldier's Peak had hardly any insignia either. But the Head Quarters... "Oh dear."
Anders walked through a gallery lined with illustrouos suits of armour, each used to belong to a First Warden of the past. Each First Warden apparently fell in battle, yet their armour hardly had a scratch. "Just how deep did the corruption go?" Anders wondered. Real Grey Wardens were not entombed at the fortress. Real Grey Wardens died in the Deep Roads when the Calling blotted out all else, their corpses buried under all the darkspawn they'd slain, consumed by the blight, almost turned into darkspawn themselves... except for that crest in their blood... Grey Warden taint wasn't the same as darkspawn.
"It's time to go, let the past remain in the past," the voice seemed to come closer.
From this moment forth you are a Grey Warden. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten... and that one day, we shall join you.
The words spoken at the Joining rang in Anders' ears. A promise to those who did not survive it. Yet clearly, some were not satisfied with the shadows. Some were seeking glory. Should they be remembered as well? Did they even deserve it? Anders was getting angry. All this guilding! Shiny armours, rich decor, opulence on every turn... how could it have happened? Perhaps it was right that the Head Quarters should fall.
He looked at the cup in his hand. He knew it was the one he drank from - it bore the scars of Ostagar, it was dented and scratched, but the griffon crest still marked it for what it was. Yes, he would take it home.
"Come, let us not linguer in the past," the voice was saying. "Grey Wardens have a duty still. The gods await."
...
"You've been sitting here for hours. I was getting worried." Lucanis sat next to Anders on the floor amidst Grey Warden archives.
"This cup..." Anders was still holding it.
"...brought back memories, I see," Lucanis nodded.
"Yeah... and thoughts..."
"Doubts... But this is who you are. The crest is in your blood, not on your armour."
"The same as yours," Anders shot him a glance.
"The Crows? Oh yes," Lucanis nodded. "I have no cause or duty, but my life is forfeit all the same."
"Have you ever wanted it to be different?"
"I have, which is why I never married," he looked straight ahead, seeing someone in the distance. "My children would have been Crows, my wife too, even though she was no assassin... the woman I longed to marry and never did."
"It's like our taint... Grey Wardens cannot have children."
They sat in silence for a while, then Lucanis moved closer and put his arm around Anders' shoulders.
"We are much the same, you and I," he said softly and Anders felt his breath on the skin. "You like walking close to the edge."
"And you rush head long into danger," Anders smiled.
"Good thing I've got wings."
...
"Right, you come with me," Anders said decisively. "The gods can wait."
"Where are we going?" Lucanis was still holding Anders close, still feeling the warmth of his breath, inhaling his scent, sweet with a biting finish.
"Soldier's Peak..." Anders smiled and kissed him again. "Home. They'll say silly things, but they mean well."
"'A Warden and his Crow' is what they are going to say," Lucanis grinned. "That's alright, I don't mind."
"As long as you are prepared," Anders nodded. "Hey, Spite! Give us a portal."
There was no answer.
"Determination! Come on! There's someone there I want you to meet."
"Avernus?" They heard Spite's hissing voice and a spectral crow landed on Lucanis' shoulder. "It's been a while..."
A portal appeared.
"I did not know Spite could do that!" Lucanis stared at it in fascination.
"Come," Anders got up. "Before he changes his mind."
Frostfall, 3E410 - A Warden and his Crow
"That's the best I could do!" Spite hissed when they emerged on the other side of the portal.
"You brought us to the Circle Tower!" Anders glared at him. "A blood mage and an abomination - and you brought us HERE?!!!"
"The Veil is strong over Ferelden!" Spite hissed. "The mages at the tower weakened it with portals of their own - that's the closest I could do!"
"Anders! Is that you?" A voice behind them made Anders spin around. "It is you! Returned to serve your sentence, I hope?" A templar stood behind them, sword drawn. "You've got guts, I'll give you that, but brains... I'm not so sure!"
"I don't want to fight you!" Anders flared his nostrils but did not ready any spells. "The Circle of Magi is no more, First Enchanter Irving is long dead and the templars no longer serve the Chantry. Let's call it quits. I am only here in passing."
"All that is true but blood magic is still outlawed, as well as abominations," the templar glared at Lucanis.
"He can sense Spite?" Lucanis asked Anders in a low voice. "Really?"
"He is a real templar," Anders nodded. "We still have them in Ferelden."
"That Grey Warden crest will not save you now!" The templar glared. "There is no Blight!"
"Actually, there is," Anders met the templar's stare. "But I expect you don't care. Who is the Knight-Commander now? We could use the help."
"With a Blight? There is a Blight? Or are you just trying to get me to release you?!" The templar started sounding menacing and Anders lost patience.
"Like I said - you don't care," he readied his staff. "Watch out for that darkspawn behind you!"
"Liar!!!" The templar shouted and charged Anders, but Anders dodged and shot a fireball at something behind the templar. He did not lie about the darkspawn. Several were rising from under the ground.
Fortunately for the templar, he wasn't blinded by his desire to arrest Anders. He quickly realised that the fireball wasn't meant for him. He turned around and together they finished the darkspawn.
"The Blight..?" The templar was perplexed. "You better come in, if Grey Wardens need help..."
"No, I am on my way to see Alistair," Anders shook his head. "He will decide when to call in help. This Blight is not like the others. Have you had darkspawn here before? Didn't think so... Keep watch. You'll hear from us soon enough."
With the templar off their backs, Anders and Lucanis took a row boat to the mainland shore of the lake. The Circle Tower was no longer Anders' home.
"A tower on an island in the middle of a lake..." Lucanis was watching it as the fog was slowly closing around it. "And they wonder why mages feel imprisoned," he shook his head.
"We were not allowed to leave the island, templars were guarding it," Anders nodded. "But now that the Circles have fallen, it's supposed to be better for the mages within. Yet you've seen that templar... I wonder if anything changed at all."
"He was going to make you serve your sentence," Lucanis said with caution, not wanting to reopen old wounds. "He didn't mean... you know... the one you escaped from?"
"I wondered that myself," Anders gave him a look. "They were going to make me tranquil for my blood magic... or execute me instead if I was lucky. But I've been to the Tower since then... a few years after the Blight... and no one tried to arrest me or follow up on that sentence. Of course the old First Enchanter was still alive then... also Knight-Commander Gregoir was still in charge of the templars... You know, the people who've seen the real horrors of blood magic as well as the Blight. May be the new governers aren't as nuanced in their judgement."
"But that would mean that all that mages-templar war was for naught," Lucanis shook his head.
"Wouldn't be the first time..."
...
The tavern on the Eastern shore of the lake was where Anders was headed, hoping to get horses there on loan. He didn't exactly bring any funds. The Drydens at the Soldier's Peak used to trade with the innkeep, if it was still the same innkeep as before... So many ifs... Anders hadn't returned to the area in many years. Well, they would find out, he thought and pushed the door.
"Warden," the innkeep greeted him politely seeing the crest on his armour. "What can I get you?"
"Hendrik? Still here, I see, after all those years... I am..." Anders grinned, but the innkeep interrupted him with a grin of his own.
"Anders, my boy! Haven't seen you in ages! All dressed up in company leathers, I see. Well, it suits you." Hendrik busied himself preparing some mystery drink. "Won't be long..."
"Yeah, there was cause for the parade..." Anders answered somber, the scenes of mass funeral at the Head Quarters still rising before his eyes. "And anyhow... well, never mind." He decided not to mention the Blight. Ferelden would take it to heart, and Anders didn't want to worry the people before it was time.
"The Blight is rising again," Hendrik said darkly, setting a mug of steaming something in front of Anders. "We're not blind. And you are back..."
"Alistair's the one in charge," Anders smiled and inhaled the familiar aroma rising from his mug. "You remembered the nutmeg."
"No one has their coffee quite in this way," Hendrik smiled. "But what can I get your friend?" He turned to Lucanis who was watching them with a certain degree of fascination. He'd never been to Ferelden and it wasn't long ago that he met Anders, yet in that short time they somehow became best friends... or may be more. He didn't want to analyse it just yet, instead he allowed Ferelden to take him in.
"Something hot would be nice," he answered. "Coffee if you have it... in a more traditional way," he shot a glance at Anders' mug. "Or else... something else..."
"Is that an Antivan accent I hear?" Hendrik beamed at him. "Then I won't serve you coffee, for ours will taste awful to you. We don't get the good beans down here..." he sighed. "Instead, try some tea."
He went about assembling a "special blend" tea for Lucanis, taking a pinch of dried herbs from various jars and pots lining the shelves. He returned with a tea pot and a jar of honey.
"Let this brew for a bit, then strain it into a cup," he instructed Lucanis placing a strainer next to the tea pot. "Nobody wants dregs in their tea. It may be a bit bitter to taste, so here's honey. I hope you'll like the blend," he smiled.
"Lemon grass, ginger, cranberries... and something else I cannot place," Lucanis inhaled the aroma. "Sweet with a biting finish," he smiled.
While Lucanis was getting to know his tea, Anders asked about horses and Hendrik took him to the stables to make arrangements.
"Never took you for one to fall for a man," Hendrik said when they were out in the yard. "Or is it like Wolf and Zevran?"
"No, Lucanis isn't like Zevran," Anders rubbed his chin. "And neither am I..."
"Best friends, then?" Hendrik grinned. He'd seen it all, having run that tavern all of his life.
"You tell me," Anders faced him. "I'm still unsure what happened."
"Is that why you brought him to Ferelden? To figure things out?" Hendrik patted Anders on the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Life is a messy affair. You meet people along the way... and sometimes you get the spark. Like Wolf always carried a torch for you."
"And Morrigan."
"And Morrigan," Hendrik nodded. "For years... Other people just pass through your life... You lose people too... Wolf left, and only Zevran could follow."
"They were best friends, from where Wolf was standing," Anders nodded.
"They were much more than best friends, also from where Wolf was standing," Hendrik corrected him. "It's not about what you do during the night. It's about what you feel. As to how you choose to express it..." he shrugged. "Who cares. Exceptions don't change what you are."
Anders nodded, still looking confused and unsure. He was forty five, yet he felt like a kid of fifteen again. Hendrik smiled. He remembered when Anders was fifteen. That day when he appeared on the doorstep of his tavern, having swam across the lake. The happiness and exhilaration on his face for having escaped, for being free... even though he had no idea what to do with that freedom. He ordered the most audacious cup of coffee he could think of - a special brew, plenty of milk, sugar, cocoa, cinnamon, nutmeg...
He could barely finish his drink and templars were upon him. A year of solitary confinement followed. Anders was no longer a kid when he was finally released back into the tower proper. Something snapped in him during that time. He was not sure what to do next, but he was set on breaking the chains of the Circle of Magi somehow. And then... he took a wrong turn... miscalculated... blood magic was not a way out, it was just another noose.
"Don't overthink it," Hendrik smiled. "Things will fall into place. You've got a Blight to stop, Warden. See that you both still live when the Archdemon is slain."
...
"Ferelden is different to what I imagined," Lucanis said as they were riding towards Soldier's Peak. It was getting dark, they would soon have to find a place to camp. "There are a lot fewer bears than what I was told!"
"Oh, plenty of bears here," Anders smirked. "Look - a cave. It should be safe enough unless there's a bear inside... We better stop for the night."
The cave was safe, discounting a spider infestation. They cleared the spiders and lit a campfire, and Anders produced the pies and ale that Hendrik stuffed in the saddlebags.
"No coffee until we get to Soldier's Peak, I'm afraid," he passed Lucanis the ale. "There should be some up there though, the Drydens keep it supplied..."
"Stop fussing over me, I'm fine," Lucanis protested. "I'll give you a tour of Treviso later, we're not all obsessed with coffee... well... may be not all are obsessed with it as much as I..."
"He drinks coffee to keep me out!" Spite hissed, his spectral crow form landing next to them. "I am supposed to possess him! I am supposed to be in - not out!"
"Shut up!" Lucanis glared at the crow. "I am not this. I cannot be like this!"
"You are trying to stay awake..?" Anders finally understood what all the coffee was for.
"He cannot possess my body when I am awake," Lucanis nodded. "Or rather, I can keep him out."
"You have to sleep though," Anders was turning over the embers in the fire. "And he doesn't... Would he do things to spite you while you're asleep? Justice never did anything like that to me..."
"Why do you think I call him Spite?" Lucanis smirked. "He makes me sleepwalk."
"I found him!" The crow hissed and flapped its wings. "I arranged for your escape! Without me, you would have never sent that letter..!"
"What letter?" Anders and Lucanis asked in unison. "The letter... oh!" Anders realised who wrote that scroll. "We received a letter offering services of a master assassin to slay the gods. We only had to free him and his demon."
"WHAT?!" Lucanis was outraged.
"That was my response as well," Anders chuckled. "I didn't want an abomination on my team, thanks."
"I had to go back to Zara!" The crow hissed. "She perverted me, and yet I had to beg! All for you!" The crow hopped and flapped its wings, landing on Lucanis' shoulder.
"It was for your own sake, not for mine!" Lucanis glared but didn't chase off the crow.
"For you as well! Don't want to possess a twisted host!"
"So it was you who arranged my capture?!" It was now Anders' turn to glare at Spite. "And the dragon?!!"
"I had nothing to do with the dragon!" Spite croacked quite forcefully. "Zara arranged your capture! I merely told her about you and Justice..!"
"Well, then I can see why she would want me in her lab," Anders smirked. "Well played, Spite." He paused, then corrected himself: "Well played, Determination."
"Ahhh... He recognises me for what I am!" The crow jumped off Lucanis' shoulder, transforming into his ghost. "You sleep. I guard the camp."
"That's the best I could do!" Spite hissed when they emerged on the other side of the portal.
"You brought us to the Circle Tower!" Anders glared at him. "A blood mage and an abomination - and you brought us HERE?!!!"
"The Veil is strong over Ferelden!" Spite hissed. "The mages at the tower weakened it with portals of their own - that's the closest I could do!"
"Anders! Is that you?" A voice behind them made Anders spin around. "It is you! Returned to serve your sentence, I hope?" A templar stood behind them, sword drawn. "You've got guts, I'll give you that, but brains... I'm not so sure!"
"I don't want to fight you!" Anders flared his nostrils but did not ready any spells. "The Circle of Magi is no more, First Enchanter Irving is long dead and the templars no longer serve the Chantry. Let's call it quits. I am only here in passing."
"All that is true but blood magic is still outlawed, as well as abominations," the templar glared at Lucanis.
"He can sense Spite?" Lucanis asked Anders in a low voice. "Really?"
"He is a real templar," Anders nodded. "We still have them in Ferelden."
"That Grey Warden crest will not save you now!" The templar glared. "There is no Blight!"
"Actually, there is," Anders met the templar's stare. "But I expect you don't care. Who is the Knight-Commander now? We could use the help."
"With a Blight? There is a Blight? Or are you just trying to get me to release you?!" The templar started sounding menacing and Anders lost patience.
"Like I said - you don't care," he readied his staff. "Watch out for that darkspawn behind you!"
"Liar!!!" The templar shouted and charged Anders, but Anders dodged and shot a fireball at something behind the templar. He did not lie about the darkspawn. Several were rising from under the ground.
Fortunately for the templar, he wasn't blinded by his desire to arrest Anders. He quickly realised that the fireball wasn't meant for him. He turned around and together they finished the darkspawn.
"The Blight..?" The templar was perplexed. "You better come in, if Grey Wardens need help..."
"No, I am on my way to see Alistair," Anders shook his head. "He will decide when to call in help. This Blight is not like the others. Have you had darkspawn here before? Didn't think so... Keep watch. You'll hear from us soon enough."
With the templar off their backs, Anders and Lucanis took a row boat to the mainland shore of the lake. The Circle Tower was no longer Anders' home.
"A tower on an island in the middle of a lake..." Lucanis was watching it as the fog was slowly closing around it. "And they wonder why mages feel imprisoned," he shook his head.
"We were not allowed to leave the island, templars were guarding it," Anders nodded. "But now that the Circles have fallen, it's supposed to be better for the mages within. Yet you've seen that templar... I wonder if anything changed at all."
"He was going to make you serve your sentence," Lucanis said with caution, not wanting to reopen old wounds. "He didn't mean... you know... the one you escaped from?"
"I wondered that myself," Anders gave him a look. "They were going to make me tranquil for my blood magic... or execute me instead if I was lucky. But I've been to the Tower since then... a few years after the Blight... and no one tried to arrest me or follow up on that sentence. Of course the old First Enchanter was still alive then... also Knight-Commander Gregoir was still in charge of the templars... You know, the people who've seen the real horrors of blood magic as well as the Blight. May be the new governers aren't as nuanced in their judgement."
"But that would mean that all that mages-templar war was for naught," Lucanis shook his head.
"Wouldn't be the first time..."
...
The tavern on the Eastern shore of the lake was where Anders was headed, hoping to get horses there on loan. He didn't exactly bring any funds. The Drydens at the Soldier's Peak used to trade with the innkeep, if it was still the same innkeep as before... So many ifs... Anders hadn't returned to the area in many years. Well, they would find out, he thought and pushed the door.
"Warden," the innkeep greeted him politely seeing the crest on his armour. "What can I get you?"
"Hendrik? Still here, I see, after all those years... I am..." Anders grinned, but the innkeep interrupted him with a grin of his own.
"Anders, my boy! Haven't seen you in ages! All dressed up in company leathers, I see. Well, it suits you." Hendrik busied himself preparing some mystery drink. "Won't be long..."
"Yeah, there was cause for the parade..." Anders answered somber, the scenes of mass funeral at the Head Quarters still rising before his eyes. "And anyhow... well, never mind." He decided not to mention the Blight. Ferelden would take it to heart, and Anders didn't want to worry the people before it was time.
"The Blight is rising again," Hendrik said darkly, setting a mug of steaming something in front of Anders. "We're not blind. And you are back..."
"Alistair's the one in charge," Anders smiled and inhaled the familiar aroma rising from his mug. "You remembered the nutmeg."
"No one has their coffee quite in this way," Hendrik smiled. "But what can I get your friend?" He turned to Lucanis who was watching them with a certain degree of fascination. He'd never been to Ferelden and it wasn't long ago that he met Anders, yet in that short time they somehow became best friends... or may be more. He didn't want to analyse it just yet, instead he allowed Ferelden to take him in.
"Something hot would be nice," he answered. "Coffee if you have it... in a more traditional way," he shot a glance at Anders' mug. "Or else... something else..."
"Is that an Antivan accent I hear?" Hendrik beamed at him. "Then I won't serve you coffee, for ours will taste awful to you. We don't get the good beans down here..." he sighed. "Instead, try some tea."
He went about assembling a "special blend" tea for Lucanis, taking a pinch of dried herbs from various jars and pots lining the shelves. He returned with a tea pot and a jar of honey.
"Let this brew for a bit, then strain it into a cup," he instructed Lucanis placing a strainer next to the tea pot. "Nobody wants dregs in their tea. It may be a bit bitter to taste, so here's honey. I hope you'll like the blend," he smiled.
"Lemon grass, ginger, cranberries... and something else I cannot place," Lucanis inhaled the aroma. "Sweet with a biting finish," he smiled.
While Lucanis was getting to know his tea, Anders asked about horses and Hendrik took him to the stables to make arrangements.
"Never took you for one to fall for a man," Hendrik said when they were out in the yard. "Or is it like Wolf and Zevran?"
"No, Lucanis isn't like Zevran," Anders rubbed his chin. "And neither am I..."
"Best friends, then?" Hendrik grinned. He'd seen it all, having run that tavern all of his life.
"You tell me," Anders faced him. "I'm still unsure what happened."
"Is that why you brought him to Ferelden? To figure things out?" Hendrik patted Anders on the shoulder. "Don't worry, kid. Life is a messy affair. You meet people along the way... and sometimes you get the spark. Like Wolf always carried a torch for you."
"And Morrigan."
"And Morrigan," Hendrik nodded. "For years... Other people just pass through your life... You lose people too... Wolf left, and only Zevran could follow."
"They were best friends, from where Wolf was standing," Anders nodded.
"They were much more than best friends, also from where Wolf was standing," Hendrik corrected him. "It's not about what you do during the night. It's about what you feel. As to how you choose to express it..." he shrugged. "Who cares. Exceptions don't change what you are."
Anders nodded, still looking confused and unsure. He was forty five, yet he felt like a kid of fifteen again. Hendrik smiled. He remembered when Anders was fifteen. That day when he appeared on the doorstep of his tavern, having swam across the lake. The happiness and exhilaration on his face for having escaped, for being free... even though he had no idea what to do with that freedom. He ordered the most audacious cup of coffee he could think of - a special brew, plenty of milk, sugar, cocoa, cinnamon, nutmeg...
He could barely finish his drink and templars were upon him. A year of solitary confinement followed. Anders was no longer a kid when he was finally released back into the tower proper. Something snapped in him during that time. He was not sure what to do next, but he was set on breaking the chains of the Circle of Magi somehow. And then... he took a wrong turn... miscalculated... blood magic was not a way out, it was just another noose.
"Don't overthink it," Hendrik smiled. "Things will fall into place. You've got a Blight to stop, Warden. See that you both still live when the Archdemon is slain."
...
"Ferelden is different to what I imagined," Lucanis said as they were riding towards Soldier's Peak. It was getting dark, they would soon have to find a place to camp. "There are a lot fewer bears than what I was told!"
"Oh, plenty of bears here," Anders smirked. "Look - a cave. It should be safe enough unless there's a bear inside... We better stop for the night."
The cave was safe, discounting a spider infestation. They cleared the spiders and lit a campfire, and Anders produced the pies and ale that Hendrik stuffed in the saddlebags.
"No coffee until we get to Soldier's Peak, I'm afraid," he passed Lucanis the ale. "There should be some up there though, the Drydens keep it supplied..."
"Stop fussing over me, I'm fine," Lucanis protested. "I'll give you a tour of Treviso later, we're not all obsessed with coffee... well... may be not all are obsessed with it as much as I..."
"He drinks coffee to keep me out!" Spite hissed, his spectral crow form landing next to them. "I am supposed to possess him! I am supposed to be in - not out!"
"Shut up!" Lucanis glared at the crow. "I am not this. I cannot be like this!"
"You are trying to stay awake..?" Anders finally understood what all the coffee was for.
"He cannot possess my body when I am awake," Lucanis nodded. "Or rather, I can keep him out."
"You have to sleep though," Anders was turning over the embers in the fire. "And he doesn't... Would he do things to spite you while you're asleep? Justice never did anything like that to me..."
"Why do you think I call him Spite?" Lucanis smirked. "He makes me sleepwalk."
"I found him!" The crow hissed and flapped its wings. "I arranged for your escape! Without me, you would have never sent that letter..!"
"What letter?" Anders and Lucanis asked in unison. "The letter... oh!" Anders realised who wrote that scroll. "We received a letter offering services of a master assassin to slay the gods. We only had to free him and his demon."
"WHAT?!" Lucanis was outraged.
"That was my response as well," Anders chuckled. "I didn't want an abomination on my team, thanks."
"I had to go back to Zara!" The crow hissed. "She perverted me, and yet I had to beg! All for you!" The crow hopped and flapped its wings, landing on Lucanis' shoulder.
"It was for your own sake, not for mine!" Lucanis glared but didn't chase off the crow.
"For you as well! Don't want to possess a twisted host!"
"So it was you who arranged my capture?!" It was now Anders' turn to glare at Spite. "And the dragon?!!"
"I had nothing to do with the dragon!" Spite croacked quite forcefully. "Zara arranged your capture! I merely told her about you and Justice..!"
"Well, then I can see why she would want me in her lab," Anders smirked. "Well played, Spite." He paused, then corrected himself: "Well played, Determination."
"Ahhh... He recognises me for what I am!" The crow jumped off Lucanis' shoulder, transforming into his ghost. "You sleep. I guard the camp."
Frostfall, 3E410 - Soldier's Peak
"You are cold," Anders added a little more wood to the fire but it didn't warm up the cave much. "You will catch hypothermia," he shook his head. "You are not used to the cold."
"No, and I didn't expect to land in a cold climate when I was getting dressed this morning," Lucanis smiled.
"Well, this is as much wood as I dare to add to the fire without us watching it," Anders got up and brought bedrolls and blankets from the saddle tack. He laid out the bedrolls, then proceeded removing his iron breastplate and arm guards, his boots and his armour, only keeping a thin shirt and pants.
"What are you doing?" Lucanis shivered just looking at him. "You'll freeze!"
"Take off as much of your clothes as you dare and join me," Anders grinned and lay down on the bedroll, keeping the space closer to the fire for Lucanis. "Clothing will only prevent you from warming up. Remember I told you how Wolf kept me warm on this very trek during our escape from the Circle Tower? You're about to find out first hand how it works."
Lucanis shook his head and sighed but complied. Anders wrapped blankets around them. It was strange to be so close to someone for whom he "carried a torch", the feeling itself was strange as well... The only other person for whom Anders ever felt anything similar was Wolf... and it wasn't the same. There was gratitude there, but there was also a bond of friendship and understanding. Yes, Wolf saved his life many times, often risking his own in the process, but Anders repaid that with watching over Wolf's blood magic, teaching him, training, advising, healing and also rescuing a few times... Anders wondered how Wolf fared in Tamriel, who would watch over his blood, since both he and Morrigan stayed behind in Thedas. Wolf would need to find someone quickly or face the danger of it running out of control... He had Zevran with him of course, but Zevran was no mage... Would Zevran call him if things got really dire? How long would it take for a message to arrive from Tamriel? How long would it take for him to sail there? Would it not be too late..? Perhaps. But he would leave the moment he got the call, regardless.
Lucanis was asleep. He pretended to sleep at first, for himself more than for Anders. It was so strange to lie so close to someone who made him want to be alive again, even with Spite ever present about his person. He thought he'd die in that prison. When he learned that Spite could not be removed, he resigned to die. He was not going to live as an abomination. But then Anders rescued him - was tricked into doing it, but did it anyway. Insisted on staying together when they stepped through the portal. Then put all that effort into pulling him out of the abyss when death already almost claimed him... How many times did he clean and stitch up his wound? Refused to give up... was that just a healer stubborn not to lose a patient or was it personal? And then that kiss... Whatever possessed Lucanis to initiate that kiss, he still could not understand. It wasn't Spite that time, he was certain. Where was he going with that? He did not want anything more... Anders did not want anything more... yet he responded. And now, being so close, feeling the warmth and breathing in that scent... sweet with a biting finish... why was his heart beating so fast?
Lucanis twitched in his sleep and said something in Antivan. Anders wasn't fully asleep, he stirred, adjusting the covers. It was so strange, all of it. Was he just trying to keep warm a patient who would otherwise succumb to the cold? A patient whose heart was racing... was that fever? Or just a dream..?
It had been the strangest night for both Anders and Lucanis, with so many thoughts rushing through their heads, with sleep and wakefulness intertwined until they could no longer tell what was a dream and what was real. And yet it was a restful night, and when morning came, they felt refreshed and ready to continue their road to Soldier's Peak.
"The fire has gone out and the cave's gone really cold," Anders said noticing that Lucanis too was awake. "This is the hardest part - between the blankets being off and the clothes on," he shivered.
"Let's not rush it," Lucanis closed his eyes again. "Next time it won't be the same."
"Next time..?" Anders wondered for a moment what Lucanis meant, then drifted off to sleep again.
...
Eventually they mustered the courage to throw off the blankets and brave the freezing cold of the cave. They got dressed as quickly as they could and decided to forego breakfast in order to save time.
"The sun is already pretty high on the horizon," Anders pointed at a faint disk hiding behind snow clouds. "If we leave now and not meet too much resistance, we'll make it to Soldier's Peak in time for supper."
Their trip was mostly uneventful. They stopped once or twice for a short rest, they finished all of their remaining provisions and finally saw the turrets of Soldier's Peak glow red in the rays of the setting sun. They rode into the courtyard, the dogs rushed to see who the visitors were.
"Wow, you really do have dogs in Ferelden!" Lucanis exclaimed in surprise as half a dozen of Mabari hounds surrounded them blocking their way.
"It's alright, they know me... I hope," Anders jumped off his horse. The dogs did remember him - the barking stopped, tails started wagging, but several of them still kept a weary eye on Lucanis.
"What in blazes..!" Levi Dryden came out of the keep. "Who's there?"
"Levi?" Anders called. "I don't have an appointment..."
"If it ain't..! I'll be damned!" Levi grinned, squeezing him in a hug. "I thought you've forgotten us completely! Ever since you moved to Vigil Keep..."
"Not a chance," Anders shook his head. "Everything alright here?"
"It is," Levi nodded. "Old Avernus's been a bit odd of late... but nothing we can't handle. Says the song is getting too loud for his ears..."
"That's why I am here..." Anders looked somber. "Another Blight is rising, Levi."
"Ah." Levi sighed. "Well, Warden, I know we are in good hands."
"Sometimes I wish I had your confidence..." Anders looked around, seeing visions only Wardens could see. "But this can easily keep till tomorrow," he smiled. "What's for supper? I brought a friend..."
...
"A Warden and his Crow just like in the old days!" An ageing woman was fussing around Anders and Lucanis, having installed them at a large kitchen table overloaded with food. "I know just what you Antivans like to eat! Zevran made sure of that!"
Lucanis looked a bit overwhelmed but had to admit that the cooking was superb.
"The style of Antiva City," he commented. "Juniper berries and a lot of black pepper. We use slightly different spice in Treviso, but this is Antivan still, to be sure!"
"You'll have to teach me that!" The woman produced a large hand-written cookbook. "Give me the recipe! Treviso style..."
"We'll be staying for a few days at least, Agatha, there is no rush..." Anders tried to get her off Lucanis' back. "We've had a long trip..."
"Oh! Of course! Where are my manners..!" Agatha put the book away. "I expect you'll be using the main bedroom? I'll get the fire going..." She turned to leave, then caught herself. "Unless you want separate rooms? I got so used to..." She cut herself off.
"Just do as usual," Lucanis smiled at her. "I am not Zevran but..."
She smiled and nodded, then hugged Anders really tight and ran out of the room.
"She nursed me back to health when I first got here," Anders smiled, noticing the surprise on Lucanis' face. "And a few times after that... She nursed a lot of people back to health."
"Of that I have no doubt," Lucanis smiled, thinking that whatever Anders said, he wasn't just another patient to Agatha. "You have a beautiful family."
"You are cold," Anders added a little more wood to the fire but it didn't warm up the cave much. "You will catch hypothermia," he shook his head. "You are not used to the cold."
"No, and I didn't expect to land in a cold climate when I was getting dressed this morning," Lucanis smiled.
"Well, this is as much wood as I dare to add to the fire without us watching it," Anders got up and brought bedrolls and blankets from the saddle tack. He laid out the bedrolls, then proceeded removing his iron breastplate and arm guards, his boots and his armour, only keeping a thin shirt and pants.
"What are you doing?" Lucanis shivered just looking at him. "You'll freeze!"
"Take off as much of your clothes as you dare and join me," Anders grinned and lay down on the bedroll, keeping the space closer to the fire for Lucanis. "Clothing will only prevent you from warming up. Remember I told you how Wolf kept me warm on this very trek during our escape from the Circle Tower? You're about to find out first hand how it works."
Lucanis shook his head and sighed but complied. Anders wrapped blankets around them. It was strange to be so close to someone for whom he "carried a torch", the feeling itself was strange as well... The only other person for whom Anders ever felt anything similar was Wolf... and it wasn't the same. There was gratitude there, but there was also a bond of friendship and understanding. Yes, Wolf saved his life many times, often risking his own in the process, but Anders repaid that with watching over Wolf's blood magic, teaching him, training, advising, healing and also rescuing a few times... Anders wondered how Wolf fared in Tamriel, who would watch over his blood, since both he and Morrigan stayed behind in Thedas. Wolf would need to find someone quickly or face the danger of it running out of control... He had Zevran with him of course, but Zevran was no mage... Would Zevran call him if things got really dire? How long would it take for a message to arrive from Tamriel? How long would it take for him to sail there? Would it not be too late..? Perhaps. But he would leave the moment he got the call, regardless.
Lucanis was asleep. He pretended to sleep at first, for himself more than for Anders. It was so strange to lie so close to someone who made him want to be alive again, even with Spite ever present about his person. He thought he'd die in that prison. When he learned that Spite could not be removed, he resigned to die. He was not going to live as an abomination. But then Anders rescued him - was tricked into doing it, but did it anyway. Insisted on staying together when they stepped through the portal. Then put all that effort into pulling him out of the abyss when death already almost claimed him... How many times did he clean and stitch up his wound? Refused to give up... was that just a healer stubborn not to lose a patient or was it personal? And then that kiss... Whatever possessed Lucanis to initiate that kiss, he still could not understand. It wasn't Spite that time, he was certain. Where was he going with that? He did not want anything more... Anders did not want anything more... yet he responded. And now, being so close, feeling the warmth and breathing in that scent... sweet with a biting finish... why was his heart beating so fast?
Lucanis twitched in his sleep and said something in Antivan. Anders wasn't fully asleep, he stirred, adjusting the covers. It was so strange, all of it. Was he just trying to keep warm a patient who would otherwise succumb to the cold? A patient whose heart was racing... was that fever? Or just a dream..?
It had been the strangest night for both Anders and Lucanis, with so many thoughts rushing through their heads, with sleep and wakefulness intertwined until they could no longer tell what was a dream and what was real. And yet it was a restful night, and when morning came, they felt refreshed and ready to continue their road to Soldier's Peak.
"The fire has gone out and the cave's gone really cold," Anders said noticing that Lucanis too was awake. "This is the hardest part - between the blankets being off and the clothes on," he shivered.
"Let's not rush it," Lucanis closed his eyes again. "Next time it won't be the same."
"Next time..?" Anders wondered for a moment what Lucanis meant, then drifted off to sleep again.
...
Eventually they mustered the courage to throw off the blankets and brave the freezing cold of the cave. They got dressed as quickly as they could and decided to forego breakfast in order to save time.
"The sun is already pretty high on the horizon," Anders pointed at a faint disk hiding behind snow clouds. "If we leave now and not meet too much resistance, we'll make it to Soldier's Peak in time for supper."
Their trip was mostly uneventful. They stopped once or twice for a short rest, they finished all of their remaining provisions and finally saw the turrets of Soldier's Peak glow red in the rays of the setting sun. They rode into the courtyard, the dogs rushed to see who the visitors were.
"Wow, you really do have dogs in Ferelden!" Lucanis exclaimed in surprise as half a dozen of Mabari hounds surrounded them blocking their way.
"It's alright, they know me... I hope," Anders jumped off his horse. The dogs did remember him - the barking stopped, tails started wagging, but several of them still kept a weary eye on Lucanis.
"What in blazes..!" Levi Dryden came out of the keep. "Who's there?"
"Levi?" Anders called. "I don't have an appointment..."
"If it ain't..! I'll be damned!" Levi grinned, squeezing him in a hug. "I thought you've forgotten us completely! Ever since you moved to Vigil Keep..."
"Not a chance," Anders shook his head. "Everything alright here?"
"It is," Levi nodded. "Old Avernus's been a bit odd of late... but nothing we can't handle. Says the song is getting too loud for his ears..."
"That's why I am here..." Anders looked somber. "Another Blight is rising, Levi."
"Ah." Levi sighed. "Well, Warden, I know we are in good hands."
"Sometimes I wish I had your confidence..." Anders looked around, seeing visions only Wardens could see. "But this can easily keep till tomorrow," he smiled. "What's for supper? I brought a friend..."
...
"A Warden and his Crow just like in the old days!" An ageing woman was fussing around Anders and Lucanis, having installed them at a large kitchen table overloaded with food. "I know just what you Antivans like to eat! Zevran made sure of that!"
Lucanis looked a bit overwhelmed but had to admit that the cooking was superb.
"The style of Antiva City," he commented. "Juniper berries and a lot of black pepper. We use slightly different spice in Treviso, but this is Antivan still, to be sure!"
"You'll have to teach me that!" The woman produced a large hand-written cookbook. "Give me the recipe! Treviso style..."
"We'll be staying for a few days at least, Agatha, there is no rush..." Anders tried to get her off Lucanis' back. "We've had a long trip..."
"Oh! Of course! Where are my manners..!" Agatha put the book away. "I expect you'll be using the main bedroom? I'll get the fire going..." She turned to leave, then caught herself. "Unless you want separate rooms? I got so used to..." She cut herself off.
"Just do as usual," Lucanis smiled at her. "I am not Zevran but..."
She smiled and nodded, then hugged Anders really tight and ran out of the room.
"She nursed me back to health when I first got here," Anders smiled, noticing the surprise on Lucanis' face. "And a few times after that... She nursed a lot of people back to health."
"Of that I have no doubt," Lucanis smiled, thinking that whatever Anders said, he wasn't just another patient to Agatha. "You have a beautiful family."
Frostfall, 3E410 - The war council
Alistair arrived the following day. He looked somber but also relieved - all Grey Wardens had sensed the Blight and he was glad to finally do something about it. He went straight to business.
"Let me get this straight," he cornered Anders. "This Blight is not led by an Archdemon? But instead it is led by an elven god?"
"Two elven gods and two Archdemons, but we already killed one Archdemon," Anders nodded. "That's if Solas is to be believed."
"That's too many heads," Alistair was doubtful. "You cannot heave four generals at the head of an army."
"Which is why I don't believe everything Solas claims," Anders agreed. "Two gods apparently escaped: a man and a woman. They were both initially just elven mages, no gods. But then they captured a dragon each, and not just any dragon - those were ancient Tevinter gods. The elven mages somehow subjugated the gods and made them a part of themselves, elevating themselves into immortality and godhood. Hence they are now gods, each commanding a dragon. Kill those dragons and the gods stop being gods and turn into elven mages again. Furthermore," Anders looked at Alistair who seemed more and more perplexed. "Furthermore," he continued, "the woman is apparently the one who invented the Blight. So it is she who commands it, and not her dragon. Her dragon is an Archdemon - but don't worry about that because that's the dragon we killed. Solas also tried to explain where the previous Archdemons came from, but the tale was so woolly, I cannot possibly recall what he said."
"Stop, stop!!" Alistair protested. "This makes absolutely no sense, you get it, right? The elves predate Tevinter! There could be no 'ancient Tevinter gods' back in those days!" He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to get rid of the nonsense. "Stop repeating what Solas said and tell me what you've found out yourself."
"We've seen the woman - the goddess. We killed the dragon that she commanded. Solas says she is now mortal again, but I know for a fact that she commands two more dragons at least. I think it is not important. She apparently invented the Blight, in which case it is she who commands it. This too is unimportant. What is comes down to, is that the Blight has changed."
"We all feel something different in it, yes," Alistair nodded. "So, stripping Solas' tales, what are we left with? How does this Blight differ from the others?"
"It is self-healing and self-replenishing."
"Broodmothers? That's not new," Alistair looked unsure.
"No, no broodmothers. Blighted boils - blobs and blisters of sorts. Similar to demonic growth like what was in the Circle Tower during the blood mage rebellion. These boils produce darkspawn, and some darkspawn produces more boils."
"That's a nightmare," Alistair agreed.
"But the silver lining is that this darkspawn is squishy. Easier to kill than the usual kind, but there's more of it, a never ending supply, and overall it is worse."
"And also - the song has changed," Alistair nodded.
"Ah, you noticed."
"It's kind of hard to miss. It's much more persistent."
"Like we're hearing the Calling."
"This reminds me of the fake Calling we heard from that darkspawn lord during the time of the Inquisition," Alistair looked up. "It must have been terrible for Clarel and her Wardens... her mages mostly."
"You think mages hear it more intensely?"
"I think so."
"We should talk to Avernus," Anders nodded. "That's why I asked you to come here rather than me going to Vigil Keep. I think Avernus will have a thing or two to tell us."
...
"Young Wardens," Avernus greeted his visitors. "Came to see an old man in his tower?"
"How are you holding up?" Anders decided to be polite. "Levi mentioned you might be feeling a bit under the weather..."
"A bit under the Blight, you mean, yes," Avernus grinned. "The same as yourselves, I expect. Perhaps a bit worse since my taint is so old... You want to hear what I make of this one, how it differs from the previous Blights. Well, I've only lived through one - the Fifth Blight, the same as you," he smirked. "The Fourth Blight was over four hundred years ago - that's well before my time."
"True, I haven't thought of that..." Alistair sighed.
"Avernus, you can do better than that," Anders winked. "Alistair here may believe you, but not I."
"What is it that you don't believe?" Avernus raised an eyebrow. "I told the truth - the Fifth Blight was the only one I experienced."
"I don't believe that you have nothing to tell us," Anders stood firm. "About the song. It changed."
"And about Solas, you wish to add," Avernus grinned. "Perhaps. But do this old man a favour - I want to examine your friend first. His spirit... I noticed its presence, but it's bound to its host, at least to a certain extent. That's quite unusual. And I've missed its company for too long."
"Spite mentioned that he knew you..." Anders smiled. "I'll bring Lucanis to visit. That's why we are really here."
"What are you two talking about?" Alistair looked confused. "Is Lucanis another abomination? Really? Do we not have enough to do with the self-replenishing Blight about that you had to befriend an abomination? Anders! You out of your mind again?!"
"Well, I did not plan it..." Anders tried to defend himself. "I actually tried to avoid it, honest..."
"The spirit that possesses Lucanis is called Determination," Avernus intervened. "I've known it for a long time... But something happened. It got perverted - Spite was it? And this peculiar possession... half in, half out... Never seen anything like it." He shook his head and turned to Alistair. "This wasn't done by one of your elven gods. This was done by a modern mage. And unless I am very much mistaken, this mage will be enticed to work for the gods as well. This helps us understand just what it is we are facing. I believe that this Blight is different because it isn't just darkspawn any longer. It is darkspawn with demonic possession."
"Like Warden-Commander Clarel and her mages..." Alistair sighed. "I see where this is going..."
...
"So, you want to understand this Blight..." Avernus looked at Anders and Alistair. They were sitting in the Commander's office in the main keep. "Our duty is to protect the land from it, not to eradicate all Blight in the world," he pointed out.
"I wouldn't mind eradicating it, myself," Alistair shrugged. "Even if I have nothing to do after that."
"This desire is what led Warden-Commander Clarel astray," Avernus said gravely. "We must focus on what's achievable."
"And according to you, the Blight as such cannot be eliminated." Alistair frowned - he didn't like the thought. No one did.
"The Blight is like a disease, it exists on its own now," Avernus nodded. "Regardless of how it started. That elven goddess may think she invented it, but I doubt that... but it is of no importance. You can kill the goddess, but this won't kill the Blight."
"And so it is business as usual - drive the Blight back underground," Anders summarised. "But normally this is done by killing the Archdemon that leads it. It isn't so clear-cut this time."
"That's the trouble," Avernus agreed. "It is no longer a single dragon that you have to kill, it is a hydra with many heads. I talked to Lucanis, I talked to Spite. The spirit of Determination was subjugated using blood magic and bound to Lucanis. Lucanis was then tortured to pervert the spirit and turn it into a demon. Ordinarily the demon can kill the soul of the host and the host and become free once again, but Spite has been constrained. This is no ordinary blood magic - the mage used blighted blood in this ritual. Spite can be controlled with blighted blood - and Lucanis with him." Avernus paused and paced the room. "You know what happened here at Soldier's Peak three hundred years ago," he looked at Alistair and Anders in turn and they nodded. "We were under seige and Sophia made the decision to summon demons. I thought I took everything into account... but there are always too many factors with demons. We could not control them, and demons turned on us." He shook his head. "But Spite can be controlled with blighted blood... or red lyrium, perhaps... an artefact could be enchanted, the wielder does not have to be a mage... You see where this is going, don't you? That mage is as bad as a god."
"And Lucanis is a liability," Alistair looked stern. "If Spite can be controlled like that, then Lucanis does not control his own actions."
"Well, for the most part he does, but it's true that he could be overruled by someone with such an artefact," Avernus agreed. "And Lucanis is likely not the only victim... Spite said he saw other attempts, but the hosts were dead. He also thought that the same mage experimented with making demons directly out of spirits, without a host or possession... Obedient demons, you understand!" Avernus glared at them. "Something that neither I nor Clarel could achieve!"
"And assuming that the goddess controls the Blight, at least to some extent..." Anders said slowly. "If this mage were to share this knowledge, the goddess would add demons to the darkspawn."
"Something along those lines," Avernus nodded. "Which is why I think it is just as important to kill that mage as it is to kill the goddess."
"Agreed," Alistair was taking it in. "But the question remains: how do we stop the Blight? Since there's no single Archdemon at the top."
"It's what Avernus said - it's a hydra. There are multiple heads," Anders looked resolved. "We have to find and destroy them all. That will drive darkspawn back underground."
"Try not to get derailed by Solas," Avernus turned to Anders. "He will enter your dreams again, now that he found a path... And you are easy to find, you light up like a beacon ever since Justice touched you... Listen to Solas but don't believe everything he says. But I don't need to tell you this - you already know it."
"Is he really a god? Solas?" Anders looked up.
"He is," Avernus nodded. "Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He isn't just an elven mage, he isn't like the others, regardless of what he says. Mythal is a real goddess too, which is why she cannot be killed. But the others... a god that can shift in and out of godhood, is not a god." Avernus got up, ready to return to his tower. "I talked a lot with Wolf Asgarsen about Fen'Harel. They know him by a different name in Tamriel, but we agreed that it was the same god. Beware of his lies. Wolf never trusted Solas, and neither should you."
"Then we have a plan," Alistair nodded. "Return to Minrathous and find and kill the mage that runs the prison you were in..."
"The portal from that prison led to Treviso in Antiva," Anders objected.
"A one way portal," Alistair pointed out. "You have no leads in Treviso... apart from Lucanis... err... perhaps you're right... Anyhow, I leave it up to you!" He beamed at him.
"Keep Lucanis close," Avernus said with urgency. "Keep Spite close. He can now open a portal directly to here - we need to keep in touch. And should there be any trouble, bring him to me. I think I may be able to overrule that blood magic of theirs... I might know a trick or two still," he winked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you thought that Anders wasn't making much sense with his explanations regarding elven gods and their dragons, then you'd be right - poor Anders is completely confused! As am I. The story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard is too complicated for me to grasp. It has so many contradictions, so many reversals of the story told in the first three games. I was lost in it... and so Anders could do no better. We decided that it was all Solas' fault, after all, he is the Dread Wolf, God of Lies. I also didn't like how the game ended - it didn't make sense to me. So I'm telling it differently. We have a plan. Now let's see if we can fix the world once again.
Alistair arrived the following day. He looked somber but also relieved - all Grey Wardens had sensed the Blight and he was glad to finally do something about it. He went straight to business.
"Let me get this straight," he cornered Anders. "This Blight is not led by an Archdemon? But instead it is led by an elven god?"
"Two elven gods and two Archdemons, but we already killed one Archdemon," Anders nodded. "That's if Solas is to be believed."
"That's too many heads," Alistair was doubtful. "You cannot heave four generals at the head of an army."
"Which is why I don't believe everything Solas claims," Anders agreed. "Two gods apparently escaped: a man and a woman. They were both initially just elven mages, no gods. But then they captured a dragon each, and not just any dragon - those were ancient Tevinter gods. The elven mages somehow subjugated the gods and made them a part of themselves, elevating themselves into immortality and godhood. Hence they are now gods, each commanding a dragon. Kill those dragons and the gods stop being gods and turn into elven mages again. Furthermore," Anders looked at Alistair who seemed more and more perplexed. "Furthermore," he continued, "the woman is apparently the one who invented the Blight. So it is she who commands it, and not her dragon. Her dragon is an Archdemon - but don't worry about that because that's the dragon we killed. Solas also tried to explain where the previous Archdemons came from, but the tale was so woolly, I cannot possibly recall what he said."
"Stop, stop!!" Alistair protested. "This makes absolutely no sense, you get it, right? The elves predate Tevinter! There could be no 'ancient Tevinter gods' back in those days!" He shook his head vigorously, as if trying to get rid of the nonsense. "Stop repeating what Solas said and tell me what you've found out yourself."
"We've seen the woman - the goddess. We killed the dragon that she commanded. Solas says she is now mortal again, but I know for a fact that she commands two more dragons at least. I think it is not important. She apparently invented the Blight, in which case it is she who commands it. This too is unimportant. What is comes down to, is that the Blight has changed."
"We all feel something different in it, yes," Alistair nodded. "So, stripping Solas' tales, what are we left with? How does this Blight differ from the others?"
"It is self-healing and self-replenishing."
"Broodmothers? That's not new," Alistair looked unsure.
"No, no broodmothers. Blighted boils - blobs and blisters of sorts. Similar to demonic growth like what was in the Circle Tower during the blood mage rebellion. These boils produce darkspawn, and some darkspawn produces more boils."
"That's a nightmare," Alistair agreed.
"But the silver lining is that this darkspawn is squishy. Easier to kill than the usual kind, but there's more of it, a never ending supply, and overall it is worse."
"And also - the song has changed," Alistair nodded.
"Ah, you noticed."
"It's kind of hard to miss. It's much more persistent."
"Like we're hearing the Calling."
"This reminds me of the fake Calling we heard from that darkspawn lord during the time of the Inquisition," Alistair looked up. "It must have been terrible for Clarel and her Wardens... her mages mostly."
"You think mages hear it more intensely?"
"I think so."
"We should talk to Avernus," Anders nodded. "That's why I asked you to come here rather than me going to Vigil Keep. I think Avernus will have a thing or two to tell us."
...
"Young Wardens," Avernus greeted his visitors. "Came to see an old man in his tower?"
"How are you holding up?" Anders decided to be polite. "Levi mentioned you might be feeling a bit under the weather..."
"A bit under the Blight, you mean, yes," Avernus grinned. "The same as yourselves, I expect. Perhaps a bit worse since my taint is so old... You want to hear what I make of this one, how it differs from the previous Blights. Well, I've only lived through one - the Fifth Blight, the same as you," he smirked. "The Fourth Blight was over four hundred years ago - that's well before my time."
"True, I haven't thought of that..." Alistair sighed.
"Avernus, you can do better than that," Anders winked. "Alistair here may believe you, but not I."
"What is it that you don't believe?" Avernus raised an eyebrow. "I told the truth - the Fifth Blight was the only one I experienced."
"I don't believe that you have nothing to tell us," Anders stood firm. "About the song. It changed."
"And about Solas, you wish to add," Avernus grinned. "Perhaps. But do this old man a favour - I want to examine your friend first. His spirit... I noticed its presence, but it's bound to its host, at least to a certain extent. That's quite unusual. And I've missed its company for too long."
"Spite mentioned that he knew you..." Anders smiled. "I'll bring Lucanis to visit. That's why we are really here."
"What are you two talking about?" Alistair looked confused. "Is Lucanis another abomination? Really? Do we not have enough to do with the self-replenishing Blight about that you had to befriend an abomination? Anders! You out of your mind again?!"
"Well, I did not plan it..." Anders tried to defend himself. "I actually tried to avoid it, honest..."
"The spirit that possesses Lucanis is called Determination," Avernus intervened. "I've known it for a long time... But something happened. It got perverted - Spite was it? And this peculiar possession... half in, half out... Never seen anything like it." He shook his head and turned to Alistair. "This wasn't done by one of your elven gods. This was done by a modern mage. And unless I am very much mistaken, this mage will be enticed to work for the gods as well. This helps us understand just what it is we are facing. I believe that this Blight is different because it isn't just darkspawn any longer. It is darkspawn with demonic possession."
"Like Warden-Commander Clarel and her mages..." Alistair sighed. "I see where this is going..."
...
"So, you want to understand this Blight..." Avernus looked at Anders and Alistair. They were sitting in the Commander's office in the main keep. "Our duty is to protect the land from it, not to eradicate all Blight in the world," he pointed out.
"I wouldn't mind eradicating it, myself," Alistair shrugged. "Even if I have nothing to do after that."
"This desire is what led Warden-Commander Clarel astray," Avernus said gravely. "We must focus on what's achievable."
"And according to you, the Blight as such cannot be eliminated." Alistair frowned - he didn't like the thought. No one did.
"The Blight is like a disease, it exists on its own now," Avernus nodded. "Regardless of how it started. That elven goddess may think she invented it, but I doubt that... but it is of no importance. You can kill the goddess, but this won't kill the Blight."
"And so it is business as usual - drive the Blight back underground," Anders summarised. "But normally this is done by killing the Archdemon that leads it. It isn't so clear-cut this time."
"That's the trouble," Avernus agreed. "It is no longer a single dragon that you have to kill, it is a hydra with many heads. I talked to Lucanis, I talked to Spite. The spirit of Determination was subjugated using blood magic and bound to Lucanis. Lucanis was then tortured to pervert the spirit and turn it into a demon. Ordinarily the demon can kill the soul of the host and the host and become free once again, but Spite has been constrained. This is no ordinary blood magic - the mage used blighted blood in this ritual. Spite can be controlled with blighted blood - and Lucanis with him." Avernus paused and paced the room. "You know what happened here at Soldier's Peak three hundred years ago," he looked at Alistair and Anders in turn and they nodded. "We were under seige and Sophia made the decision to summon demons. I thought I took everything into account... but there are always too many factors with demons. We could not control them, and demons turned on us." He shook his head. "But Spite can be controlled with blighted blood... or red lyrium, perhaps... an artefact could be enchanted, the wielder does not have to be a mage... You see where this is going, don't you? That mage is as bad as a god."
"And Lucanis is a liability," Alistair looked stern. "If Spite can be controlled like that, then Lucanis does not control his own actions."
"Well, for the most part he does, but it's true that he could be overruled by someone with such an artefact," Avernus agreed. "And Lucanis is likely not the only victim... Spite said he saw other attempts, but the hosts were dead. He also thought that the same mage experimented with making demons directly out of spirits, without a host or possession... Obedient demons, you understand!" Avernus glared at them. "Something that neither I nor Clarel could achieve!"
"And assuming that the goddess controls the Blight, at least to some extent..." Anders said slowly. "If this mage were to share this knowledge, the goddess would add demons to the darkspawn."
"Something along those lines," Avernus nodded. "Which is why I think it is just as important to kill that mage as it is to kill the goddess."
"Agreed," Alistair was taking it in. "But the question remains: how do we stop the Blight? Since there's no single Archdemon at the top."
"It's what Avernus said - it's a hydra. There are multiple heads," Anders looked resolved. "We have to find and destroy them all. That will drive darkspawn back underground."
"Try not to get derailed by Solas," Avernus turned to Anders. "He will enter your dreams again, now that he found a path... And you are easy to find, you light up like a beacon ever since Justice touched you... Listen to Solas but don't believe everything he says. But I don't need to tell you this - you already know it."
"Is he really a god? Solas?" Anders looked up.
"He is," Avernus nodded. "Fen'Harel, the Dread Wolf. He isn't just an elven mage, he isn't like the others, regardless of what he says. Mythal is a real goddess too, which is why she cannot be killed. But the others... a god that can shift in and out of godhood, is not a god." Avernus got up, ready to return to his tower. "I talked a lot with Wolf Asgarsen about Fen'Harel. They know him by a different name in Tamriel, but we agreed that it was the same god. Beware of his lies. Wolf never trusted Solas, and neither should you."
"Then we have a plan," Alistair nodded. "Return to Minrathous and find and kill the mage that runs the prison you were in..."
"The portal from that prison led to Treviso in Antiva," Anders objected.
"A one way portal," Alistair pointed out. "You have no leads in Treviso... apart from Lucanis... err... perhaps you're right... Anyhow, I leave it up to you!" He beamed at him.
"Keep Lucanis close," Avernus said with urgency. "Keep Spite close. He can now open a portal directly to here - we need to keep in touch. And should there be any trouble, bring him to me. I think I may be able to overrule that blood magic of theirs... I might know a trick or two still," he winked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If you thought that Anders wasn't making much sense with his explanations regarding elven gods and their dragons, then you'd be right - poor Anders is completely confused! As am I. The story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard is too complicated for me to grasp. It has so many contradictions, so many reversals of the story told in the first three games. I was lost in it... and so Anders could do no better. We decided that it was all Solas' fault, after all, he is the Dread Wolf, God of Lies. I also didn't like how the game ended - it didn't make sense to me. So I'm telling it differently. We have a plan. Now let's see if we can fix the world once again.
She goes to Elsweyr. 
"He gave Lena a broad smile, nearly disappearing behind it...." Lol. Indeed, Khajiit must have a BIG smile, with lots of teeth. 🐱
Nice, Cartographer's Guild.
http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=340887
"He gave Lena a broad smile, nearly disappearing behind it...." Lol. Indeed, Khajiit must have a BIG smile, with lots of teeth. 🐱 Nice, Cartographer's Guild.
http://chorrol.com/forums/index.php?s=&...st&p=340887
QUOTE(Renee @ Dec 5 2024, 05:32 PM) 
She goes to Elsweyr.
"He gave Lena a broad smile, nearly disappearing behind it...." Lol. Indeed, Khajiit must have a BIG smile, with lots of teeth. 🐱 I was thinking of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland. He used to disappear almost completely, only leaving behind his smile. Alice found it rather unnerving.
Sun's Dusk, 3E410 - Amaya
Anders did not rush to return to Minrathous. The gods could wait another day. He came to Soldier's Peak first and foremost because he needed to get his head in order - too many things happened in recent weeks, too many confusing thoughts had been rushing through his mind giving him no peace. He wasn't a "steady" person at the best of times, what with all the mess in his life, but right now he felt even less steady than normal. If he were to lead a party of adventurers against the biggest Blight in the history of Thedas, he needed to do better than that.
Lucanis must have noticed that something was tormenting Anders, he watched him but stayed out of the way. He was the one new person in the whole keep, and he was an abomination, or a half-abomination, and what's more, the demon inside him was a personal friend of the old mage living in the tower... It wasn't surprising that people stared, that children followed him, then ran away when he turned around - he was a celebrity and everyone wanted a look at him or a word if they were brave enough. And to top it all off, he was an Antivan, the second Antivan that these people had ever seen, and he was a Crow just like the first... Of course, that's where the similarities ended. Zevran was an elven slave, while Lucanis was a human and a favourite grandson of the head of Antivan Crows, soon to take over from her and become the head of the Crows himself. But the people at Soldier's Peak didn't know it, and he preferred it that way. To them he was just another Crow. He did not mind people staring... they weren't unkind. They seemed to have loved the first Antivan, and hoped that the second would be the same.
"Are you an assassin?" A girl of may be seven years old dared a question, with the other children huddling behind her.
"That's right, that I am," Lucanis smiled at her. "Why do you ask?"
"But assassins kill people, don't they? Are you here to kill us?" She did not seem afraid, just curious. Perhaps the concept of death was still abstract to her, Lucanis thought.
"No, I am not here to kill anyone," he shook his head. "Assassins kill people, true, but only very specific people for whom there is a contract. We don't kill willy-nilly."
"He is here with Anders!" A boy hissed at her. "They are friends like!"
And with that the children ran off.
Anders knew most of the children in the keep, although the last time he saw them, they were a lot younger. Had it really been so long? Surely, no more than a year..? He could not remember. Some of those children he saw being born, helped to deliver them even - whenever a healer was needed, the Drydens invariably called on Anders, what with the Vigil Keep being only a few hours away. "I should come here more often," Anders thought watching the children talk to Lucanis. "This place... this is home. I should do my rounds." It was something that Anders took to doing every time he came to Soldier's Peak - check up on everyone's health, Avernus included. Anders had studied healing at the Circle of Magi, and it wasn't limited to magical remedies - alchemy and a thorough understanding of anatomy and physiology was also included. This knowledge was what gave him the confidence to try blood magic... he thought he would always know when to stop. And so now, the same as always, he made it a point to see each person in private and to check on things they'd complain about as well as the things they'd rather not say...
The day was already drawing to a close when Anders finally knocked on the door of Avernus' tower.
"Come in if you must," he heard a somewhat disgruntled reply. He entered and found the old mage reclining in a armchair.
"I am sorry to wake you," Anders smiled. "But since you are awake... tell me how you've been."
"We spent the whole day talking yesterday," Avernus replied in a tired voice. "You know the most pressing matter - the song is getting to me."
"The Blight, yes," Anders frowned. "But it isn't all... What ails you, Avernus?"
"My years... my age," he shrugged. "I wasn't supposed to live past eighty! But do you know how old I am? Three hundred and sixty something now! At three fifty things took a turn for the worse."
It was a topic they often discussed in the past. Avernus used alchemy and magic to reverse some of the ageing and prolong his life, but he never intended to live forever. At first, he wanted to live long enough to see Grey Wardens reinstated in Ferelden, so that he could pass on his research, so that it would not be lost. His fellow Wardens sacrificed for the sake of knowledge... he owed it to them to make sure they didn't die in vain. The fruits of his studies gave Wolf new powers, but most Wardens would not wish to use their blood in combat like he did, and so all they got was a tonic - a rather unspectacular result that surely did not warrant the sacrifice...
"That's the problem with research - you don't know in advance whether it will be worth the sacrifice," Avernus sighed. "We were dying, Anders! We ran out of food! We were cut off from the world, with demons holding our keep! We could not leave this tower!"
"You think it wasn't worth it," Anders was watching as Avernus became more agitated. It was a discussion they held many times, always with the same outcome - there was no way out.
"The Wardens do not wish to use their blood in combat! Blood magic is completely outlawed and rejected, it is much worse than what I had hoped!" Avernus lamented. "I sacrificed my fellow Wardens for nothing!"
"What was the alternative?" Anders already knew the shortcut towards the end of the discourse.
"To starve... or to eat each other and then starve..." Avernus smirked. "You cheated again."
"Was that when you met Determination?" Anders veered from their old routine - they now had something new to discuss.
"Yes... The Veil was so thin here... He appeared among the demons and I was quite surprised."
"Determination was with the demons?" Anders was taken aback. "But surely..."
"Determination wasn't a demon," Avernus said firmly. "The difference is that he never wanted to consume my soul. The same as he won't harm Lucanis either."
"Then Spite is not a demon."
"I agree." Avernus paused, watching Anders. "What Lucanis is going through is very much like what you went through with Justice, especially when he became Vengeance. Not a demon, strictly speaking... but not far off."
"When Wolf asked him to cut the connection..." Anders shot Avernus a glance. "Justice did so knowing full well that it would kill me. But he didn't warn Wolf about it, he only said it after the fact..."
"That comes pretty close to wanting to harm you," Avernus said somber. "But then he sees the world in black and white, there are no nuances, no shades of grey. Most spirits lack the emotional complexity of mortals. Demons, on the other hand... that is a different matter!"
"Some Desire Demons..."
"Don't even start!" Avernus laughed. "I've always enjoyed dealing with those!"
"You summoned them?!" Anders sat up. Desire Demons were some of the strongest and most intelligent among spirits, summoning them was inherently dangerous.
"Once or twice," Avernus chuckled. "Not on purpose. Was trying to summon something lighter... but you can never be sure what you get."
They sat in silence for a while, each watching the other.
"I am not dying yet, do not worry," Avernus smiled. "I'll tell you if there is a real problem... honest. But I do so enjoy our chats."
...
Anders did not sleep well that night. His dreams were filled with flashbacks of Justice taking control of him again and again. To start with, Justice had promised to only take control with Anders' permission, but this promise was broken very quickly because he "simply could not stand by and watch such injustice", as he would always say afterwards. Anders never thought it was right. Perhaps there was no fundamental difference between spirits and demons after all... it was all very much in the shades of grey.
When he finally decided to shake off the remnants of sleep and open his eyes, he found Lucanis sitting in bed watching him.
"The Archdemon again?" He asked. "You were thrashing."
"No, demons this time," Anders shook his head, making an effort to really wake up. "Possession. Justice. Don't want to talk about it. Have we any coffee?" He looked up at Lucanis seeing his face upside down from his perspective.
"Ah... I know what you mean," he smiled. "Coffee. Let me pour you some... I started without you."
"You too?" Anders was sipping hot, thick liquid, almost viscous with all the sugar that Lucanis put into his cup. "Disturbing dreams?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Lucanis shrugged. "Don't want to talk about it."
"Ah."
The keep was always quiet in the morning. The Drydens lived in the other buildings but used the main kitchen to prepare food - Agatha always cooked for everyone. But in the mornings the place was empty.
"We should be returning to Minrathous, no?" Lucanis changed the topic.
"We should be..." Anders focused on his coffee.
"There is no rush." Lucanis got up and added some logs to the fire. "I think you need a rest," he looked at Anders. "A proper rest. Not going around the keep asking everyone how they feel. Not talking to Alistair about the Blight. Not even discussing me and Spite with Avernus..." he smiled.
"But what? I suppose I could read a book..." Anders grinned.
"As long as it is not about magic or anything to do with blood," Lucanis winked. He walked over to Anders and propped some extra pillows behind his back. "There. A morning in bed, I think. Now, let me choose a suitable book - you do have 'useless' books in this library among all the professional literature."
"Useless books?" Anders grinned. "Oh yes, we do have those. I am curious to see which one you'll pick."
Lucanis left the room and Anders stole another moment alone with his coffee. It was doing a pretty good job chasing away the nightmares, and he started to see why Lucanis made it into such a ritual. Before long Lucanis was back with more coffee, some pastry and a few books.
"Sonnets from the Tevinter Nights?" Anders picked up one of the books. "I forgot we had those... Tevinter Nights itself should be here somewhere too."
"Yes, but everyone knows Tevinter Nights - that's just short stories. The sonnets was an Antivan edition."
"Say no more!" Anders laughed. "I know who brought that one in. What else have you picked?" He took another book. "Chantry Tales For the Uninitiated? The Life of a Templar? The Rose of Kirkwall? Those are all... umm... romantic... and awfully sweet! Why, you're worse than Cassandra!"
"Those were the only kind that didn't talk about the Blight, combat or blood magic!" Lucanis protested. "And who is Cassandra?"
"A lady with a rock hard shell and molten lava inside," Anders smirked. "It took Wolf the better part of a year to get past those shields of hers..."
"And I bet it was worth it," Lucanis nodded. "I know the type."
"So, you want me to read you a sonnet, is that it?" Anders picked up the first book. "Since you brought pastry... oh alright. I'm awfully easy to bribe," he grinned, trying not to smear clotted cream all over the pages. "And jam?"
"What jam?"
"Strawberry if you can find it... Agatha hides that one... You can't have scones without jam!"
"Jam." Lucanis returned with a clay jar. "Honey too?"
"Not jam and honey together!" Anders looked up with mocked indignance. "There are rules, don't you know..."
"What rules?"
"Rules of jam..."
"Now I know you grew up in an orphanage," Lucanis nodded. "Err... Tower of Magi... sorry... we're not talking about that."
"An orphanage is an apt description..." Anders sighed. "Well, anyhow. Listen to this..."
He picked a poem at random, just enjoying a lazy morning without any serious business to cloud his judgement. With so much darkness that he'd been through, he knew how to cherish those moments of light.
...
"You have a lot of ink," Lucanis noted, looking at the intricate tattoos covering Anders' arms. "Wings, is it? But different either side... Griffons on the chest of course... All Grey Warden stuff. Except for the one on the back."
"On the back..? I've got ink on the back?!!" Anders cried out, perplexed.
"You don't know?" Lucanis laughed. "Yes, you've got ink on the back! How is it that you don't know?"
"I wasn't exactly sober when I got all that..." Anders shrugged. "What do I have on the back?"
"Oh, you know... It's grand!" Lucanis squinted.
"What? Come on!"
"It's a... Oh alright, it's just some abstract swirl. Pretty small too. Just here," he decided against further teasing and put his hand between Anders' shoulder blades where he had the tattoo.
"Huh... I don't remember getting that one..." Anders sighed. "At least it's not some big boobed woman brandishing a sword... like that one guy got on the neck, you could see the boobs even when he had a scarf on... took him forever to get that removed, I hear..."
"You don't need to get yours removed. I like them," Lucanis grinned.
"Well, if you say so..."
Anders slipped down on the pillows, the book of poetry still in his hand. It was one of those rare moments when the time itself seemed to taste of strawberry jam, may be even with a touch of honey. He closed his eyes. Better not waste it.
He sensed movement and warm breath, he tasted that same jam... and coffee... always coffee... there was no mistaking who that was.
"I'll know you anywhere," he said when the kiss ran out. "I've never tasted anyone quite like you."
"Bittersweet, like a kiss goodbye, I was told," Lucanis smiled.
"Perhaps they thought that because it was a kiss goodbye? You don't taste like goodbye to me."
"Goodbye has a taste?"
"It does... a mouthful of ash... lifeless and grey... Forget it."
They savoured their kiss like one savours a well aged malt, letting it roll around the mouth, inhaling the aroma, allowing new flavours develop with time. And when it ran out, they each felt a trickle of warmth flow into the stomach and into the heart, then spread through the veins down into the fingertips...
"No! No, you don't kiss him!" An indignant high pitched voice broke into the bliss. "Anders is mine!"
"What..?" Anders sat up, hearing his name. A girl of twelve or thirteen stood in the doorway, looking angrily at Lucanis.
"You can't have him! He is mine!" She ran up to Anders, jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"A friend of yours?" Lucanis smiled somewhat bewildered.
"Amaya!" Anders was trying to get some breath. "Good grief, you are all flustered! I am not going anywhere, don't worry, my pet..."
"You can't..!" Tears appeared in her eyes. "He can't take you away from me!" She was about to start sobbing, and she was trying to suppress that urge.
"He isn't... He is my friend... I'll still keep coming back here... What are you talking about..?"
"This young lady is in love with you, can't you see?" Lucanis said softly. "And she just saw you kiss someone else..."
Amaya straightened up and threw back her head trying to make the tears roll back into the eyes... but they wouldn't.
"Amaya... I had no idea..." Anders blushed, not quite sure what to do. She was still a child of course, much too young for love, yet not a little girl any longer. Somewhere in between... where the intensity of feeling invariably overwhelmed common sense.
"When I grow up," Amaya said with an effort, "I shall marry you, Warden Anders, you'll see. But you must wait for me, you hear?" She made a fist and lightly punched him in the chest. "You wait for me!"
"Ten years from now," Anders spoke solemnly. "Ten years from now we'll speak of it again. You must be at least twenty three to marry a Warden."
"Twenty three?!" Amaya was taken aback. "Ten years?! Who says that?!"
"I do," Anders inclined his head. "I know these things... I'm a healer. Grey Wardens aren't like other people. How many Wardens do you know who marry after they take the Joining?" He looked at her sternly.
"None," Amaya replied in a small voice.
"None," Anders nodded. "Ten years from now I'll explain why. And then... if you still wish it... then we'll talk."
"But you mustn't marry anyone else until then..." Amaya shot another angry glance at Lucanis.
"Lucanis is a friend," Anders said calmly. "I won't marry him because he is a man and not a woman."
Lucanis nodded - he did not wish to get married either. Amaya squeezed Anders in her embrace again, then pulled back. Now that she calmed down, she suddenly became embarrassed for what she'd done - a woman must never go chase after a man, a woman must wait until she is chosen... But it wasn't just any man, it was Anders - her Anders! She had nothing to fear talking to him... And yet these contradictions made her blush and she ran out of the room.
Anders still sat there looking at the door.
"Amaya... I remember when she was born," he said softly. "Her mother had a difficult pregnancy, we weren't sure she would survive... she kept losing blood when it was getting close to term. I spent a lot of time with her... her husband even got jealous," he smirked. "But Amaya was born without issues in the end... the bleeding stopped... her mother didn't die..." He paused. "And then some years later - scarlet fever. A lot of children were ill, but Amaya was near death..."
"And you spent a lot of time at her bedside, making sure she pulled through," Lucanis nodded. "I know this side of you," he smiled.
"And then some mysterious illness a few years ago... I think it was a curse," he looked at Lucanis, the old worry rising again. "I could never be sure that I fully lifted it."
"But the girl recovered."
"She did... but I never found the source of the curse. Who laid it on her and why?"
"Perhaps it was demonic possession," Lucanis offered.
"Avernus would have noticed," Anders shook his head. "She wasn't possessed... even I would have noticed. It was more like poison..."
"May be it was poison."
"But not deadly enough to kill? Just to maim? Why? She's just a young girl! Well, she was then, that's for certain..."
"Is she a mage?"
"She... I don't know!" Anders looked up. "If she is, her magic may be awakening around this time."
"She might have done it herself then."
"She..?"
"She is a little girl no longer. It isn't just magic that is awakening in children around this time. She is growing up into a woman, and she is in love with you." Lucanis said firmly.
Anders sighed. He too saw the change in Amaya, she was definitely growing up. But he was much too old for her surely, he was a Grey Warden and carried the taint, in ten years time he might start hearing the Calling, or he might be dead... and he must never sire children, even if he could... Yet he sensed that the girl's feelings were much deeper than just a teenage crush, and he tried to be gentle. Ten years... did he just make a promise? He'd better keep it then...
"Ten years..." Lucanis seemed to have read his mind. "I get to borrow you from Amaya until then. Have another cup of coffee, Warden."
Anders did not rush to return to Minrathous. The gods could wait another day. He came to Soldier's Peak first and foremost because he needed to get his head in order - too many things happened in recent weeks, too many confusing thoughts had been rushing through his mind giving him no peace. He wasn't a "steady" person at the best of times, what with all the mess in his life, but right now he felt even less steady than normal. If he were to lead a party of adventurers against the biggest Blight in the history of Thedas, he needed to do better than that.
Lucanis must have noticed that something was tormenting Anders, he watched him but stayed out of the way. He was the one new person in the whole keep, and he was an abomination, or a half-abomination, and what's more, the demon inside him was a personal friend of the old mage living in the tower... It wasn't surprising that people stared, that children followed him, then ran away when he turned around - he was a celebrity and everyone wanted a look at him or a word if they were brave enough. And to top it all off, he was an Antivan, the second Antivan that these people had ever seen, and he was a Crow just like the first... Of course, that's where the similarities ended. Zevran was an elven slave, while Lucanis was a human and a favourite grandson of the head of Antivan Crows, soon to take over from her and become the head of the Crows himself. But the people at Soldier's Peak didn't know it, and he preferred it that way. To them he was just another Crow. He did not mind people staring... they weren't unkind. They seemed to have loved the first Antivan, and hoped that the second would be the same.
"Are you an assassin?" A girl of may be seven years old dared a question, with the other children huddling behind her.
"That's right, that I am," Lucanis smiled at her. "Why do you ask?"
"But assassins kill people, don't they? Are you here to kill us?" She did not seem afraid, just curious. Perhaps the concept of death was still abstract to her, Lucanis thought.
"No, I am not here to kill anyone," he shook his head. "Assassins kill people, true, but only very specific people for whom there is a contract. We don't kill willy-nilly."
"He is here with Anders!" A boy hissed at her. "They are friends like!"
And with that the children ran off.
Anders knew most of the children in the keep, although the last time he saw them, they were a lot younger. Had it really been so long? Surely, no more than a year..? He could not remember. Some of those children he saw being born, helped to deliver them even - whenever a healer was needed, the Drydens invariably called on Anders, what with the Vigil Keep being only a few hours away. "I should come here more often," Anders thought watching the children talk to Lucanis. "This place... this is home. I should do my rounds." It was something that Anders took to doing every time he came to Soldier's Peak - check up on everyone's health, Avernus included. Anders had studied healing at the Circle of Magi, and it wasn't limited to magical remedies - alchemy and a thorough understanding of anatomy and physiology was also included. This knowledge was what gave him the confidence to try blood magic... he thought he would always know when to stop. And so now, the same as always, he made it a point to see each person in private and to check on things they'd complain about as well as the things they'd rather not say...
The day was already drawing to a close when Anders finally knocked on the door of Avernus' tower.
"Come in if you must," he heard a somewhat disgruntled reply. He entered and found the old mage reclining in a armchair.
"I am sorry to wake you," Anders smiled. "But since you are awake... tell me how you've been."
"We spent the whole day talking yesterday," Avernus replied in a tired voice. "You know the most pressing matter - the song is getting to me."
"The Blight, yes," Anders frowned. "But it isn't all... What ails you, Avernus?"
"My years... my age," he shrugged. "I wasn't supposed to live past eighty! But do you know how old I am? Three hundred and sixty something now! At three fifty things took a turn for the worse."
It was a topic they often discussed in the past. Avernus used alchemy and magic to reverse some of the ageing and prolong his life, but he never intended to live forever. At first, he wanted to live long enough to see Grey Wardens reinstated in Ferelden, so that he could pass on his research, so that it would not be lost. His fellow Wardens sacrificed for the sake of knowledge... he owed it to them to make sure they didn't die in vain. The fruits of his studies gave Wolf new powers, but most Wardens would not wish to use their blood in combat like he did, and so all they got was a tonic - a rather unspectacular result that surely did not warrant the sacrifice...
"That's the problem with research - you don't know in advance whether it will be worth the sacrifice," Avernus sighed. "We were dying, Anders! We ran out of food! We were cut off from the world, with demons holding our keep! We could not leave this tower!"
"You think it wasn't worth it," Anders was watching as Avernus became more agitated. It was a discussion they held many times, always with the same outcome - there was no way out.
"The Wardens do not wish to use their blood in combat! Blood magic is completely outlawed and rejected, it is much worse than what I had hoped!" Avernus lamented. "I sacrificed my fellow Wardens for nothing!"
"What was the alternative?" Anders already knew the shortcut towards the end of the discourse.
"To starve... or to eat each other and then starve..." Avernus smirked. "You cheated again."
"Was that when you met Determination?" Anders veered from their old routine - they now had something new to discuss.
"Yes... The Veil was so thin here... He appeared among the demons and I was quite surprised."
"Determination was with the demons?" Anders was taken aback. "But surely..."
"Determination wasn't a demon," Avernus said firmly. "The difference is that he never wanted to consume my soul. The same as he won't harm Lucanis either."
"Then Spite is not a demon."
"I agree." Avernus paused, watching Anders. "What Lucanis is going through is very much like what you went through with Justice, especially when he became Vengeance. Not a demon, strictly speaking... but not far off."
"When Wolf asked him to cut the connection..." Anders shot Avernus a glance. "Justice did so knowing full well that it would kill me. But he didn't warn Wolf about it, he only said it after the fact..."
"That comes pretty close to wanting to harm you," Avernus said somber. "But then he sees the world in black and white, there are no nuances, no shades of grey. Most spirits lack the emotional complexity of mortals. Demons, on the other hand... that is a different matter!"
"Some Desire Demons..."
"Don't even start!" Avernus laughed. "I've always enjoyed dealing with those!"
"You summoned them?!" Anders sat up. Desire Demons were some of the strongest and most intelligent among spirits, summoning them was inherently dangerous.
"Once or twice," Avernus chuckled. "Not on purpose. Was trying to summon something lighter... but you can never be sure what you get."
They sat in silence for a while, each watching the other.
"I am not dying yet, do not worry," Avernus smiled. "I'll tell you if there is a real problem... honest. But I do so enjoy our chats."
...
Anders did not sleep well that night. His dreams were filled with flashbacks of Justice taking control of him again and again. To start with, Justice had promised to only take control with Anders' permission, but this promise was broken very quickly because he "simply could not stand by and watch such injustice", as he would always say afterwards. Anders never thought it was right. Perhaps there was no fundamental difference between spirits and demons after all... it was all very much in the shades of grey.
When he finally decided to shake off the remnants of sleep and open his eyes, he found Lucanis sitting in bed watching him.
"The Archdemon again?" He asked. "You were thrashing."
"No, demons this time," Anders shook his head, making an effort to really wake up. "Possession. Justice. Don't want to talk about it. Have we any coffee?" He looked up at Lucanis seeing his face upside down from his perspective.
"Ah... I know what you mean," he smiled. "Coffee. Let me pour you some... I started without you."
"You too?" Anders was sipping hot, thick liquid, almost viscous with all the sugar that Lucanis put into his cup. "Disturbing dreams?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary," Lucanis shrugged. "Don't want to talk about it."
"Ah."
The keep was always quiet in the morning. The Drydens lived in the other buildings but used the main kitchen to prepare food - Agatha always cooked for everyone. But in the mornings the place was empty.
"We should be returning to Minrathous, no?" Lucanis changed the topic.
"We should be..." Anders focused on his coffee.
"There is no rush." Lucanis got up and added some logs to the fire. "I think you need a rest," he looked at Anders. "A proper rest. Not going around the keep asking everyone how they feel. Not talking to Alistair about the Blight. Not even discussing me and Spite with Avernus..." he smiled.
"But what? I suppose I could read a book..." Anders grinned.
"As long as it is not about magic or anything to do with blood," Lucanis winked. He walked over to Anders and propped some extra pillows behind his back. "There. A morning in bed, I think. Now, let me choose a suitable book - you do have 'useless' books in this library among all the professional literature."
"Useless books?" Anders grinned. "Oh yes, we do have those. I am curious to see which one you'll pick."
Lucanis left the room and Anders stole another moment alone with his coffee. It was doing a pretty good job chasing away the nightmares, and he started to see why Lucanis made it into such a ritual. Before long Lucanis was back with more coffee, some pastry and a few books.
"Sonnets from the Tevinter Nights?" Anders picked up one of the books. "I forgot we had those... Tevinter Nights itself should be here somewhere too."
"Yes, but everyone knows Tevinter Nights - that's just short stories. The sonnets was an Antivan edition."
"Say no more!" Anders laughed. "I know who brought that one in. What else have you picked?" He took another book. "Chantry Tales For the Uninitiated? The Life of a Templar? The Rose of Kirkwall? Those are all... umm... romantic... and awfully sweet! Why, you're worse than Cassandra!"
"Those were the only kind that didn't talk about the Blight, combat or blood magic!" Lucanis protested. "And who is Cassandra?"
"A lady with a rock hard shell and molten lava inside," Anders smirked. "It took Wolf the better part of a year to get past those shields of hers..."
"And I bet it was worth it," Lucanis nodded. "I know the type."
"So, you want me to read you a sonnet, is that it?" Anders picked up the first book. "Since you brought pastry... oh alright. I'm awfully easy to bribe," he grinned, trying not to smear clotted cream all over the pages. "And jam?"
"What jam?"
"Strawberry if you can find it... Agatha hides that one... You can't have scones without jam!"
"Jam." Lucanis returned with a clay jar. "Honey too?"
"Not jam and honey together!" Anders looked up with mocked indignance. "There are rules, don't you know..."
"What rules?"
"Rules of jam..."
"Now I know you grew up in an orphanage," Lucanis nodded. "Err... Tower of Magi... sorry... we're not talking about that."
"An orphanage is an apt description..." Anders sighed. "Well, anyhow. Listen to this..."
He picked a poem at random, just enjoying a lazy morning without any serious business to cloud his judgement. With so much darkness that he'd been through, he knew how to cherish those moments of light.
...
"You have a lot of ink," Lucanis noted, looking at the intricate tattoos covering Anders' arms. "Wings, is it? But different either side... Griffons on the chest of course... All Grey Warden stuff. Except for the one on the back."
"On the back..? I've got ink on the back?!!" Anders cried out, perplexed.
"You don't know?" Lucanis laughed. "Yes, you've got ink on the back! How is it that you don't know?"
"I wasn't exactly sober when I got all that..." Anders shrugged. "What do I have on the back?"
"Oh, you know... It's grand!" Lucanis squinted.
"What? Come on!"
"It's a... Oh alright, it's just some abstract swirl. Pretty small too. Just here," he decided against further teasing and put his hand between Anders' shoulder blades where he had the tattoo.
"Huh... I don't remember getting that one..." Anders sighed. "At least it's not some big boobed woman brandishing a sword... like that one guy got on the neck, you could see the boobs even when he had a scarf on... took him forever to get that removed, I hear..."
"You don't need to get yours removed. I like them," Lucanis grinned.
"Well, if you say so..."
Anders slipped down on the pillows, the book of poetry still in his hand. It was one of those rare moments when the time itself seemed to taste of strawberry jam, may be even with a touch of honey. He closed his eyes. Better not waste it.
He sensed movement and warm breath, he tasted that same jam... and coffee... always coffee... there was no mistaking who that was.
"I'll know you anywhere," he said when the kiss ran out. "I've never tasted anyone quite like you."
"Bittersweet, like a kiss goodbye, I was told," Lucanis smiled.
"Perhaps they thought that because it was a kiss goodbye? You don't taste like goodbye to me."
"Goodbye has a taste?"
"It does... a mouthful of ash... lifeless and grey... Forget it."
They savoured their kiss like one savours a well aged malt, letting it roll around the mouth, inhaling the aroma, allowing new flavours develop with time. And when it ran out, they each felt a trickle of warmth flow into the stomach and into the heart, then spread through the veins down into the fingertips...
"No! No, you don't kiss him!" An indignant high pitched voice broke into the bliss. "Anders is mine!"
"What..?" Anders sat up, hearing his name. A girl of twelve or thirteen stood in the doorway, looking angrily at Lucanis.
"You can't have him! He is mine!" She ran up to Anders, jumped on the bed and wrapped her arms around his neck.
"A friend of yours?" Lucanis smiled somewhat bewildered.
"Amaya!" Anders was trying to get some breath. "Good grief, you are all flustered! I am not going anywhere, don't worry, my pet..."
"You can't..!" Tears appeared in her eyes. "He can't take you away from me!" She was about to start sobbing, and she was trying to suppress that urge.
"He isn't... He is my friend... I'll still keep coming back here... What are you talking about..?"
"This young lady is in love with you, can't you see?" Lucanis said softly. "And she just saw you kiss someone else..."
Amaya straightened up and threw back her head trying to make the tears roll back into the eyes... but they wouldn't.
"Amaya... I had no idea..." Anders blushed, not quite sure what to do. She was still a child of course, much too young for love, yet not a little girl any longer. Somewhere in between... where the intensity of feeling invariably overwhelmed common sense.
"When I grow up," Amaya said with an effort, "I shall marry you, Warden Anders, you'll see. But you must wait for me, you hear?" She made a fist and lightly punched him in the chest. "You wait for me!"
"Ten years from now," Anders spoke solemnly. "Ten years from now we'll speak of it again. You must be at least twenty three to marry a Warden."
"Twenty three?!" Amaya was taken aback. "Ten years?! Who says that?!"
"I do," Anders inclined his head. "I know these things... I'm a healer. Grey Wardens aren't like other people. How many Wardens do you know who marry after they take the Joining?" He looked at her sternly.
"None," Amaya replied in a small voice.
"None," Anders nodded. "Ten years from now I'll explain why. And then... if you still wish it... then we'll talk."
"But you mustn't marry anyone else until then..." Amaya shot another angry glance at Lucanis.
"Lucanis is a friend," Anders said calmly. "I won't marry him because he is a man and not a woman."
Lucanis nodded - he did not wish to get married either. Amaya squeezed Anders in her embrace again, then pulled back. Now that she calmed down, she suddenly became embarrassed for what she'd done - a woman must never go chase after a man, a woman must wait until she is chosen... But it wasn't just any man, it was Anders - her Anders! She had nothing to fear talking to him... And yet these contradictions made her blush and she ran out of the room.
Anders still sat there looking at the door.
"Amaya... I remember when she was born," he said softly. "Her mother had a difficult pregnancy, we weren't sure she would survive... she kept losing blood when it was getting close to term. I spent a lot of time with her... her husband even got jealous," he smirked. "But Amaya was born without issues in the end... the bleeding stopped... her mother didn't die..." He paused. "And then some years later - scarlet fever. A lot of children were ill, but Amaya was near death..."
"And you spent a lot of time at her bedside, making sure she pulled through," Lucanis nodded. "I know this side of you," he smiled.
"And then some mysterious illness a few years ago... I think it was a curse," he looked at Lucanis, the old worry rising again. "I could never be sure that I fully lifted it."
"But the girl recovered."
"She did... but I never found the source of the curse. Who laid it on her and why?"
"Perhaps it was demonic possession," Lucanis offered.
"Avernus would have noticed," Anders shook his head. "She wasn't possessed... even I would have noticed. It was more like poison..."
"May be it was poison."
"But not deadly enough to kill? Just to maim? Why? She's just a young girl! Well, she was then, that's for certain..."
"Is she a mage?"
"She... I don't know!" Anders looked up. "If she is, her magic may be awakening around this time."
"She might have done it herself then."
"She..?"
"She is a little girl no longer. It isn't just magic that is awakening in children around this time. She is growing up into a woman, and she is in love with you." Lucanis said firmly.
Anders sighed. He too saw the change in Amaya, she was definitely growing up. But he was much too old for her surely, he was a Grey Warden and carried the taint, in ten years time he might start hearing the Calling, or he might be dead... and he must never sire children, even if he could... Yet he sensed that the girl's feelings were much deeper than just a teenage crush, and he tried to be gentle. Ten years... did he just make a promise? He'd better keep it then...
"Ten years..." Lucanis seemed to have read his mind. "I get to borrow you from Amaya until then. Have another cup of coffee, Warden."
Sun's Dusk, 3E410 - Back to Minrathous
It was easy to open a portal to Minrathous. The city was overflowing with magic, the Veil above it was thin and Spite opened a stable portal that deposited them in the middle of the Upper District. The Pavus Manor was but a short distance away.
"Ah, my escaped slave finally returns!" Dorian greeted Anders when he and Lucanis entered the salon. "You are giving me a bad name. There's been talk at the Magisterium that I am not a master in my own house," he grinned.
"In your own house you are definitely the master," Anders looked solemly at him. "I'll do whatever you say. But outside of your house... what are these people actually complaining about? There's no slavery outside of Tevinter," he shrugged.
"Yes, well, they are still trying to work that out," Dorian laughed. "Anyway, what news?"
"Avernus thinks that killing the gods will not stop the Blight," Anders grew somber. "He thinks the Blight is like a disease now, existing all by itself. The Wardens will have to drive it underground, as usual. But this time there isn't just a single Archdemon, but a hydra with many heads. How many - we are not sure, but we should remove whichever we can find. We killed one Archdemon, that's good, but we're far from done yet."
"Multiple heads... like on that dragon at the Wardens fortress," Taash shuddered.
"Exactly like that," Anders nodded. "With new heads growing as we slay them. The gods are important, but we can't get to them all that easily. However, the mage that turned Lucanis into an abomination... well, the mage that forced the spirit of Determination into Lucanis... err... making him into Spite..."
"It's alright, remove your kid gloves," Lucanis grimaced. "Zara. You are talking about Zara. The mage that runs the underwater prison, the one that turns spirits into demons and that made me into an abomination. She needs to die."
"She will be hard to get to, but she's a mortal and not a god," Varric agreed. "That's achievable. And then what?"
"And then we'll see," Anders shot him a glance. "I'll need to return to Anderfels, to the Wardens. There are exits to the Deep Roads there. The new Blight is there. Antoine is trying to understand it, I'll need to catch up with him, may be he'll have something too."
"What about the Venatori?" Dorian looked up. "We've been chasing them up for months, but found nothing besides a blood magic network, and not even all that impressive at that."
"What about Neve?" Anders faced him. "You have history with her, I can tell. She is too smooth. I don't trust her."
"Neve is an ice mage," Emmrich joined in. "Quite accomplished - I looked her up. She is with the Venatori."
"What?!" Several people exclaimed in indignation, and angry looks were thrown at Dorian.
"I also only found out after I brought her in," he sighed. "But the Venatori are not all the same... and most of them are fairly harmless. Most of them, I said! Definitely not all. There is one - or more - dangerous faction, and it is those people that we need to pursue. Our mistake was that we simply went after any Venatori, and predictably found nothing."
"Apart from a lot of blood magic," Varric pointed out.
"Well, there's that," Dorian agreed. "But it doesn't help our cause. This is all small fish. Neve is small fish among the Venatori. But I have a feeling that her duplicity is going to cost her dearly this time, and we must use it to our advantage."
"You think that Neve will need protection," Emmrich smiled thinly. "How very magisterial of you, Dorian."
"I think that Neve will receive a visit from the Crows," Dorian agreed. "Lucanis..."
"I can find out," he nodded. "But the Crows too have factions... make no mistake. I shall need to return to Treviso - I haven't actually been there since the prison. I might find out something about Zara too."
"Alright, so what do you want the rest of us to do in the meantime?" Harding looked straight at Anders. "Since you are in charge."
"Nothing just yet," Anders smiled. "Walk with me. I intend to walk the streets of Minrathous and spend coin in many bars. Someone needs to watch my back."
"You will be bait," Harding stared.
"Precisely." Anders made a gesture to stop any protests. "I am a convicted blood mage, posters with my likeness are all over the city. I am also Dorian's slave, and therefore cannot be harmed outright. Lucanis has been seen in my company. I was kidnapped by Zara - we must assume - and taken to her prison. I am definitely a person of interest. Let us hope someone will bite."
...
The following days Anders spent drinking in various bars of Minrathous taking one of the companions with him. He wasn't getting all too drunk, he acted it up quite a bit, he even got into a bar fight once a twice over some nonsense, but none of it was of any interest. And then Dorian decided to try the gay bar of the Mages Quarter - an area populated by people like Neve, noble by birth but without any money to their name. Many of them were Venatori of the harmless variety, but Dorian suspected that more sinister members might be hiding among them.
"Dorian Pavus!" Somebody shouted across the room not long after they entered. "How are you, old boy? Haven't seen you in ages!" A man of flamboyant appearance made his way through the crowd. "You've completely neglected us, you know!" He exclaimed with mock offense. "Where have you been?" He looked around, only then noticing Anders at Dorian's side. "Oh, and who is this?" He stared and grinned. "Is he..? Is he your actual slave? The one slave that Magister Pavus stooped to buying? Eh? The blood mage? I thought he would be younger!"
"Hello, Damien, you haven't changed a bit!" Dorian laughed. "This is Anders, yes. The one and only... and you know very well that I don't go for youngsters."
"Is he good to you?" Damien turned to Anders. "Does he treat you right? Have you bled a lot of slaves for him already?"
"I..." Anders started, not sure what to say. Was that man really so exhausting or was he fishing for something?
"Bleeding slaves is not something we do," Dorian answered coldly and Damien spun around. "I'll have none of that."
"Touchy..." Damien gave him a long look. "Very touchy... you were always squeamish though, so I am not surprised. But then - why buy a blood mage?"
"I didn't buy him for that," Dorian shrugged. "I couldn't let the City Guard skin a friend. I prefer him with his skin still on."
"Oh yes, they don't joke," Damien nodded. "They are quite literal when they talk about skinning people alive..." He inhaled sharply.
"Have a drink, Damien," Dorian poured him whisky. "That is an old story."
Anders was watching the exchange and trying to make up his mind who Damien actually was. A blood mage, he thought, one of many in Minrathous, an old friend of Dorian's, if not a close friend... a past lover, perhaps. They had a history together, belonged to the same club... once... he didn't think it was the case any longer.
"Dorian has always had a soft spot for the underdog," Damien spoke to Anders again. "I've heard of you, of course. I know rather more than an average person here. A healer in Kirkwall. An abomination, now freed. A Circle Mage poised to be made tranquil, but rescued by a Grey Warden... and a Grey Warden himself now of course, that is Anders. And a blood mage. There is nothing you haven't tried, is there?" He stared at Anders again. "And now you are a slave of the one Magister who denounces slavery on principle, while still owning dozens of slaves... yes, yes, family estate and all," he flicked his hand as if chasing away a pesky insect. "But you are not another slave, are you, mage? You sleep in his bedroom and you are now sitting here, at The Gay Vint, at Dorian's side sipping the best whisky in the house..." Damien paused again, sipping his own whisky. "Is it serious, Dorian?" He looked at him. "Is he the one?"
"Let's not go there, old friend," Dorian spoke slowly, emphasizing "friend", and Anders thought that perhaps he meant the opposite. "That's water under the bridge."
"Is it?" Damien kept his eyes on Dorian. "Some say the next one should have been a woman."
"I don't fall for women," Dorian straightened up.
"No, not usually," Damien inclined his head. "But there can always be exceptions... Like Anders here normally prefers women, yet he is here with you."
"There is no woman in my sight and no woman I wish to be associated with," Dorian said very distinctly, but in a low voice. "I have always been against it, and still am."
"It's your loss, you know," Damien shrugged and smiled, taking on a lighter demeanour. "You and she could make the world go 'round... and she didn't ask for much... but you're stubborn, always were," he sighed. "You've got here what she wants. Him and the other... one of your guests... it's quite a gathering you have at the Pavus Manor."
"Dragons are about," Dorian nodded. "We've got a dragon hunter."
"And so I heard," Damien smiled. "She's quite a character, your qunari girl... how you keep her under control, I'll never know."
"I don't, Anders does," Dorian grinned. "She's taken quite a liking to him. You know how qunari can be..."
"Passionate and indiscreet!" Damien laughed. "Oh yes." He drank the rest of his whisky in one shot. "Be well, Dorian, enjoy it while it lasts!" He shot a glance at Anders. "Who knows how long we still have, when all is said and done..."
...
"That was interesting," Anders said softly after Damien left the bar.
"You know who he was talking about," Dorian nodded. "We know each other, of course. Everyone knows everyone else in Uptown Minrathous. He didn't tell us anything new, apart from the fact that they are watching. They are here."
"Is he one of them?" Anders waved his hand to the barman.
"Damien likes to watch," Dorian looked over his shoulder, but seemed satisfied. "All sorts of things, and these days mostly politics and rumours. He is not with any group, but knows them all. We should not trust him."
"What did she want of you?"
"Marriage, what else," Dorian smirked. "Marriage of convenience, she wasn't interested in any aspect of my person, apart may be from my magic. She is so driven... absorbed in her work... obsessed even... Her House wanted a bond with ours. Happens all the time."
"It figures," Anders nodded.
"Come, there are a lot of people here whom I have not seen in ages... I want them to meet my special slave..." He laughed. "I want to make it very clear just why I bought you."
He put his arm around Anders' waist, turning him around and leaning slightly on their high table, then caught the eye of the singer and made a sign.
Where the songs are passionate
And a smile has flash in it
And a kiss has art in it
For you put your heart in it
The band changed the melody as Dorian led Anders around the room and people took to the dance floor.
"Will you permit me?" Dorian smiled, bringing his face quite close to Anders but still not touching.
It was Anders who kissed him first. There were still a few things he had not tried, and Dorian had a point. Besides, who could resist that dark velvet voice that filled the space between chance phrases and long glances in a dimly lit Minrathous bar...
Deixa cantar de novo o trovador,
À merencória à luz da lua,
Toda canção do meu amor.
Quero ver essa Dona caminhando,
Pelos salões, arrastando,
O seu vestido rendado...
Prá mim ... Prá mim!...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was easy to open a portal to Minrathous. The city was overflowing with magic, the Veil above it was thin and Spite opened a stable portal that deposited them in the middle of the Upper District. The Pavus Manor was but a short distance away.
"Ah, my escaped slave finally returns!" Dorian greeted Anders when he and Lucanis entered the salon. "You are giving me a bad name. There's been talk at the Magisterium that I am not a master in my own house," he grinned.
"In your own house you are definitely the master," Anders looked solemly at him. "I'll do whatever you say. But outside of your house... what are these people actually complaining about? There's no slavery outside of Tevinter," he shrugged.
"Yes, well, they are still trying to work that out," Dorian laughed. "Anyway, what news?"
"Avernus thinks that killing the gods will not stop the Blight," Anders grew somber. "He thinks the Blight is like a disease now, existing all by itself. The Wardens will have to drive it underground, as usual. But this time there isn't just a single Archdemon, but a hydra with many heads. How many - we are not sure, but we should remove whichever we can find. We killed one Archdemon, that's good, but we're far from done yet."
"Multiple heads... like on that dragon at the Wardens fortress," Taash shuddered.
"Exactly like that," Anders nodded. "With new heads growing as we slay them. The gods are important, but we can't get to them all that easily. However, the mage that turned Lucanis into an abomination... well, the mage that forced the spirit of Determination into Lucanis... err... making him into Spite..."
"It's alright, remove your kid gloves," Lucanis grimaced. "Zara. You are talking about Zara. The mage that runs the underwater prison, the one that turns spirits into demons and that made me into an abomination. She needs to die."
"She will be hard to get to, but she's a mortal and not a god," Varric agreed. "That's achievable. And then what?"
"And then we'll see," Anders shot him a glance. "I'll need to return to Anderfels, to the Wardens. There are exits to the Deep Roads there. The new Blight is there. Antoine is trying to understand it, I'll need to catch up with him, may be he'll have something too."
"What about the Venatori?" Dorian looked up. "We've been chasing them up for months, but found nothing besides a blood magic network, and not even all that impressive at that."
"What about Neve?" Anders faced him. "You have history with her, I can tell. She is too smooth. I don't trust her."
"Neve is an ice mage," Emmrich joined in. "Quite accomplished - I looked her up. She is with the Venatori."
"What?!" Several people exclaimed in indignation, and angry looks were thrown at Dorian.
"I also only found out after I brought her in," he sighed. "But the Venatori are not all the same... and most of them are fairly harmless. Most of them, I said! Definitely not all. There is one - or more - dangerous faction, and it is those people that we need to pursue. Our mistake was that we simply went after any Venatori, and predictably found nothing."
"Apart from a lot of blood magic," Varric pointed out.
"Well, there's that," Dorian agreed. "But it doesn't help our cause. This is all small fish. Neve is small fish among the Venatori. But I have a feeling that her duplicity is going to cost her dearly this time, and we must use it to our advantage."
"You think that Neve will need protection," Emmrich smiled thinly. "How very magisterial of you, Dorian."
"I think that Neve will receive a visit from the Crows," Dorian agreed. "Lucanis..."
"I can find out," he nodded. "But the Crows too have factions... make no mistake. I shall need to return to Treviso - I haven't actually been there since the prison. I might find out something about Zara too."
"Alright, so what do you want the rest of us to do in the meantime?" Harding looked straight at Anders. "Since you are in charge."
"Nothing just yet," Anders smiled. "Walk with me. I intend to walk the streets of Minrathous and spend coin in many bars. Someone needs to watch my back."
"You will be bait," Harding stared.
"Precisely." Anders made a gesture to stop any protests. "I am a convicted blood mage, posters with my likeness are all over the city. I am also Dorian's slave, and therefore cannot be harmed outright. Lucanis has been seen in my company. I was kidnapped by Zara - we must assume - and taken to her prison. I am definitely a person of interest. Let us hope someone will bite."
...
The following days Anders spent drinking in various bars of Minrathous taking one of the companions with him. He wasn't getting all too drunk, he acted it up quite a bit, he even got into a bar fight once a twice over some nonsense, but none of it was of any interest. And then Dorian decided to try the gay bar of the Mages Quarter - an area populated by people like Neve, noble by birth but without any money to their name. Many of them were Venatori of the harmless variety, but Dorian suspected that more sinister members might be hiding among them.
"Dorian Pavus!" Somebody shouted across the room not long after they entered. "How are you, old boy? Haven't seen you in ages!" A man of flamboyant appearance made his way through the crowd. "You've completely neglected us, you know!" He exclaimed with mock offense. "Where have you been?" He looked around, only then noticing Anders at Dorian's side. "Oh, and who is this?" He stared and grinned. "Is he..? Is he your actual slave? The one slave that Magister Pavus stooped to buying? Eh? The blood mage? I thought he would be younger!"
"Hello, Damien, you haven't changed a bit!" Dorian laughed. "This is Anders, yes. The one and only... and you know very well that I don't go for youngsters."
"Is he good to you?" Damien turned to Anders. "Does he treat you right? Have you bled a lot of slaves for him already?"
"I..." Anders started, not sure what to say. Was that man really so exhausting or was he fishing for something?
"Bleeding slaves is not something we do," Dorian answered coldly and Damien spun around. "I'll have none of that."
"Touchy..." Damien gave him a long look. "Very touchy... you were always squeamish though, so I am not surprised. But then - why buy a blood mage?"
"I didn't buy him for that," Dorian shrugged. "I couldn't let the City Guard skin a friend. I prefer him with his skin still on."
"Oh yes, they don't joke," Damien nodded. "They are quite literal when they talk about skinning people alive..." He inhaled sharply.
"Have a drink, Damien," Dorian poured him whisky. "That is an old story."
Anders was watching the exchange and trying to make up his mind who Damien actually was. A blood mage, he thought, one of many in Minrathous, an old friend of Dorian's, if not a close friend... a past lover, perhaps. They had a history together, belonged to the same club... once... he didn't think it was the case any longer.
"Dorian has always had a soft spot for the underdog," Damien spoke to Anders again. "I've heard of you, of course. I know rather more than an average person here. A healer in Kirkwall. An abomination, now freed. A Circle Mage poised to be made tranquil, but rescued by a Grey Warden... and a Grey Warden himself now of course, that is Anders. And a blood mage. There is nothing you haven't tried, is there?" He stared at Anders again. "And now you are a slave of the one Magister who denounces slavery on principle, while still owning dozens of slaves... yes, yes, family estate and all," he flicked his hand as if chasing away a pesky insect. "But you are not another slave, are you, mage? You sleep in his bedroom and you are now sitting here, at The Gay Vint, at Dorian's side sipping the best whisky in the house..." Damien paused again, sipping his own whisky. "Is it serious, Dorian?" He looked at him. "Is he the one?"
"Let's not go there, old friend," Dorian spoke slowly, emphasizing "friend", and Anders thought that perhaps he meant the opposite. "That's water under the bridge."
"Is it?" Damien kept his eyes on Dorian. "Some say the next one should have been a woman."
"I don't fall for women," Dorian straightened up.
"No, not usually," Damien inclined his head. "But there can always be exceptions... Like Anders here normally prefers women, yet he is here with you."
"There is no woman in my sight and no woman I wish to be associated with," Dorian said very distinctly, but in a low voice. "I have always been against it, and still am."
"It's your loss, you know," Damien shrugged and smiled, taking on a lighter demeanour. "You and she could make the world go 'round... and she didn't ask for much... but you're stubborn, always were," he sighed. "You've got here what she wants. Him and the other... one of your guests... it's quite a gathering you have at the Pavus Manor."
"Dragons are about," Dorian nodded. "We've got a dragon hunter."
"And so I heard," Damien smiled. "She's quite a character, your qunari girl... how you keep her under control, I'll never know."
"I don't, Anders does," Dorian grinned. "She's taken quite a liking to him. You know how qunari can be..."
"Passionate and indiscreet!" Damien laughed. "Oh yes." He drank the rest of his whisky in one shot. "Be well, Dorian, enjoy it while it lasts!" He shot a glance at Anders. "Who knows how long we still have, when all is said and done..."
...
"That was interesting," Anders said softly after Damien left the bar.
"You know who he was talking about," Dorian nodded. "We know each other, of course. Everyone knows everyone else in Uptown Minrathous. He didn't tell us anything new, apart from the fact that they are watching. They are here."
"Is he one of them?" Anders waved his hand to the barman.
"Damien likes to watch," Dorian looked over his shoulder, but seemed satisfied. "All sorts of things, and these days mostly politics and rumours. He is not with any group, but knows them all. We should not trust him."
"What did she want of you?"
"Marriage, what else," Dorian smirked. "Marriage of convenience, she wasn't interested in any aspect of my person, apart may be from my magic. She is so driven... absorbed in her work... obsessed even... Her House wanted a bond with ours. Happens all the time."
"It figures," Anders nodded.
"Come, there are a lot of people here whom I have not seen in ages... I want them to meet my special slave..." He laughed. "I want to make it very clear just why I bought you."
He put his arm around Anders' waist, turning him around and leaning slightly on their high table, then caught the eye of the singer and made a sign.
Where the songs are passionate
And a smile has flash in it
And a kiss has art in it
For you put your heart in it
The band changed the melody as Dorian led Anders around the room and people took to the dance floor.
"Will you permit me?" Dorian smiled, bringing his face quite close to Anders but still not touching.
It was Anders who kissed him first. There were still a few things he had not tried, and Dorian had a point. Besides, who could resist that dark velvet voice that filled the space between chance phrases and long glances in a dimly lit Minrathous bar...
Deixa cantar de novo o trovador,
À merencória à luz da lua,
Toda canção do meu amor.
Quero ver essa Dona caminhando,
Pelos salões, arrastando,
O seu vestido rendado...
Prá mim ... Prá mim!...
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Evening Star, 3E410 - Love stories
Anders was still using the bedroom next to Dorian's, even though they didn't think he'd be targeted by assassins any longer. But there was no reason for him to move out, and so he didn't. A few weeks after he returned from Soldier's Peak, he knocked on Dorian's door when everyone retired for the night.
"May I?" He put his head in when Dorian answered, then entered, seeing him nod.
"Something on your mind?" Dorian watched him walk over to the bed, drop his robe and get in.
"I want to spend the night with you," he said firmly.
"In what way? You are always welcome to sleep here if you're feeling a bit under the weather," Dorian gave him a long look.
"I need advice... and a second opinion," Anders sighed. "I consider you a friend... you have a cool head on your shoulders, you should be able to help me understand... and..."
"It's about Lucanis, isn't it?" Dorian guessed and Anders nodded. "Well, so you met someone with whom you have a lot in common. You became close. Very close may be even. If he had been a woman, you'd long been in his knickers, but he is a man, and you don't feel the urge... or perhaps you do... but either way it doesn't feel right. Am I close?"
"He kissed me... and I kissed him... but neither of us seem to be interested in anything beyond that. I am confused," Anders looked up.
"Well, you're both straight, that's why," Dorian shrugged. "I always have this problem with women. Oh, I met one to whom I felt close, I kissed her and liked it and she expected more... but I wasn't interested. I was still young then, and yes, it is very confusing. My father thought that his blood magic 'correction' spells finally worked... They didn't. She was simply a remarkable woman, that was all."
"And then what happened?"
"Nothing. She wanted marriage and everything that went with that, and I didn't want any of that, so we said goodbye," Dorian shrugged.
"But now I want to know how it feels," Anders looked straight at him. "From someone who knows what he's doing, that is you. Someone I can trust."
"You want me to make love to you?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Even though you don't want it? Talking about confusing."
"I want to know," Anders said firmly. "I want to experience it... done properly."
"What I do isn't any different from what you do with women," Dorian shrugged. "It's not me you want," he smiled.
"No, I think it is you I want," Anders insisted. "I am not a virgin... I just never found it particularly pleasant."
"And now you want to change your mind... Remarkable." Dorian moved closer and took Anders in an embrace. "Am I the only gay man that you know?"
"No, you're not," Anders wrapped his arms around Dorian's neck. "But you are the only one that I like seeing naked."
"Are you just saying that?"
"It's true. I've seen a lot of people naked, being a healer," Anders grinned.
"So... if you never wanted to have sex with a man, why did you do it?" Dorian went to the heart of the matter.
"Curiosity, at first," Anders shrugged. "As a teenager, with a friend. I guess we just couldn't get girls to do it with..." he smirked. "We each hated being on the receiving end... and never did it again. Drifted apart, too... Of course, me spending the following year in prison didn't help... but that was unrelated..." He paused, still holding Dorian's embrace.
"That was just teenage experimentation, it doesn't count," Dorian shook his head.
"Yeah, I know. Then later, other times... Sometimes I was drunk, sometimes desperate and sometimes depressed... like, nothing mattered... Other times I wondered if I was doing something wrong, if there was a trick to enjoying it... So I tried a few more times with people I liked... But I simply always found female company more exciting and pleasant."
"You have Lucanis now. You should be talking to him." Dorian was in no rush.
"I shall be... at some point... may be. I don't know how he feels about this."
"Or is it may be that you no longer want just the simple pleasures... could it be that you are after something more?" Dorian pulled away, looking at Anders as if trying to see into his soul.
"Wolf isn't gay, you know?" Anders returned his gaze. "Yet he and Zevran are lovers. Just Zevran, no other man... Did you know that?"
"I did," Dorian nodded. "Wolf went into a lot of trouble one day to prove to me that he and Zevran weren't lovers. So I knew that they were."
"He loved Morrigan, and he loved Zevran... he had so many women over the years as well... but those are the two people he loved."
"He loved you too," Dorian pointed out. "But perhaps in a different way. He meant everything to you... Why did you not leave with him?"
"Someone had to stay and keep an eye on his son," Anders smiled. "Keep him out of trouble." He paused, then shook his head. "I don't know why I stayed behind. Perhaps I needed to face life on my own."
They fell silent for a while, just sitting there, holding the embrace.
"Have you ever loved someone?" Anders asked.
"I have, a while back," Dorian nodded. "It didn't end well."
"Just the one?"
"Just the one... Real love is rare. I was involved with lots of people though, flirted with many... but nothing ever came close to that one..."
"So... I don't feel so out of place then," Anders smiled.
"There is no trick to enjoying it, to answer your question," Dorian said softly. "Some people like it, men and women both, other people don't. I hate it myself, being on the receiving end. There is nothing essentially different between me and you..."
"A thirteen year old girl told me recently that she loved me and wanted to marry me when she grew up... I was gobsmacked," Anders shivered. "I was there when she was born, I pulled her out of her mother's womb, I cut the umbilical cord... I never saw her as a young woman, but she is now growing up... And I felt that her emotion was quite mature. I told her to give it ten years... But what happens then? What if she still loves me then but I cannot stop seeing her as a child?"
"You will have to answer this question then," Dorian was watching him. "You will have to look at her as a woman and ask yourself what you feel. You are an incredible softy, Anders," he smiled.
"Perhaps," Anders nodded and smiled too. "I still want you to do it though..." He kissed Dorian softly. "The song from that bar still plays in my head... Toda canção do meu amor... I want you to do it right..."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The unabridged version is published on my website.
Anders was still using the bedroom next to Dorian's, even though they didn't think he'd be targeted by assassins any longer. But there was no reason for him to move out, and so he didn't. A few weeks after he returned from Soldier's Peak, he knocked on Dorian's door when everyone retired for the night.
"May I?" He put his head in when Dorian answered, then entered, seeing him nod.
"Something on your mind?" Dorian watched him walk over to the bed, drop his robe and get in.
"I want to spend the night with you," he said firmly.
"In what way? You are always welcome to sleep here if you're feeling a bit under the weather," Dorian gave him a long look.
"I need advice... and a second opinion," Anders sighed. "I consider you a friend... you have a cool head on your shoulders, you should be able to help me understand... and..."
"It's about Lucanis, isn't it?" Dorian guessed and Anders nodded. "Well, so you met someone with whom you have a lot in common. You became close. Very close may be even. If he had been a woman, you'd long been in his knickers, but he is a man, and you don't feel the urge... or perhaps you do... but either way it doesn't feel right. Am I close?"
"He kissed me... and I kissed him... but neither of us seem to be interested in anything beyond that. I am confused," Anders looked up.
"Well, you're both straight, that's why," Dorian shrugged. "I always have this problem with women. Oh, I met one to whom I felt close, I kissed her and liked it and she expected more... but I wasn't interested. I was still young then, and yes, it is very confusing. My father thought that his blood magic 'correction' spells finally worked... They didn't. She was simply a remarkable woman, that was all."
"And then what happened?"
"Nothing. She wanted marriage and everything that went with that, and I didn't want any of that, so we said goodbye," Dorian shrugged.
"But now I want to know how it feels," Anders looked straight at him. "From someone who knows what he's doing, that is you. Someone I can trust."
"You want me to make love to you?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. "Even though you don't want it? Talking about confusing."
"I want to know," Anders said firmly. "I want to experience it... done properly."
"What I do isn't any different from what you do with women," Dorian shrugged. "It's not me you want," he smiled.
"No, I think it is you I want," Anders insisted. "I am not a virgin... I just never found it particularly pleasant."
"And now you want to change your mind... Remarkable." Dorian moved closer and took Anders in an embrace. "Am I the only gay man that you know?"
"No, you're not," Anders wrapped his arms around Dorian's neck. "But you are the only one that I like seeing naked."
"Are you just saying that?"
"It's true. I've seen a lot of people naked, being a healer," Anders grinned.
"So... if you never wanted to have sex with a man, why did you do it?" Dorian went to the heart of the matter.
"Curiosity, at first," Anders shrugged. "As a teenager, with a friend. I guess we just couldn't get girls to do it with..." he smirked. "We each hated being on the receiving end... and never did it again. Drifted apart, too... Of course, me spending the following year in prison didn't help... but that was unrelated..." He paused, still holding Dorian's embrace.
"That was just teenage experimentation, it doesn't count," Dorian shook his head.
"Yeah, I know. Then later, other times... Sometimes I was drunk, sometimes desperate and sometimes depressed... like, nothing mattered... Other times I wondered if I was doing something wrong, if there was a trick to enjoying it... So I tried a few more times with people I liked... But I simply always found female company more exciting and pleasant."
"You have Lucanis now. You should be talking to him." Dorian was in no rush.
"I shall be... at some point... may be. I don't know how he feels about this."
"Or is it may be that you no longer want just the simple pleasures... could it be that you are after something more?" Dorian pulled away, looking at Anders as if trying to see into his soul.
"Wolf isn't gay, you know?" Anders returned his gaze. "Yet he and Zevran are lovers. Just Zevran, no other man... Did you know that?"
"I did," Dorian nodded. "Wolf went into a lot of trouble one day to prove to me that he and Zevran weren't lovers. So I knew that they were."
"He loved Morrigan, and he loved Zevran... he had so many women over the years as well... but those are the two people he loved."
"He loved you too," Dorian pointed out. "But perhaps in a different way. He meant everything to you... Why did you not leave with him?"
"Someone had to stay and keep an eye on his son," Anders smiled. "Keep him out of trouble." He paused, then shook his head. "I don't know why I stayed behind. Perhaps I needed to face life on my own."
They fell silent for a while, just sitting there, holding the embrace.
"Have you ever loved someone?" Anders asked.
"I have, a while back," Dorian nodded. "It didn't end well."
"Just the one?"
"Just the one... Real love is rare. I was involved with lots of people though, flirted with many... but nothing ever came close to that one..."
"So... I don't feel so out of place then," Anders smiled.
"There is no trick to enjoying it, to answer your question," Dorian said softly. "Some people like it, men and women both, other people don't. I hate it myself, being on the receiving end. There is nothing essentially different between me and you..."
"A thirteen year old girl told me recently that she loved me and wanted to marry me when she grew up... I was gobsmacked," Anders shivered. "I was there when she was born, I pulled her out of her mother's womb, I cut the umbilical cord... I never saw her as a young woman, but she is now growing up... And I felt that her emotion was quite mature. I told her to give it ten years... But what happens then? What if she still loves me then but I cannot stop seeing her as a child?"
"You will have to answer this question then," Dorian was watching him. "You will have to look at her as a woman and ask yourself what you feel. You are an incredible softy, Anders," he smiled.
"Perhaps," Anders nodded and smiled too. "I still want you to do it though..." He kissed Dorian softly. "The song from that bar still plays in my head... Toda canção do meu amor... I want you to do it right..."
~~~~~~~~~~~
The unabridged version is published on my website.
Evening Star, 3E410 - Brothers
"We are like brothers though!" Lucanis was adamant. "Illario would not do anything against me!"
"But the facts speak otherwise!" Viago shook his head. "You are deluding yourself, Lucanis! Anders, you tell him! He'll listen to you!"
"Anders does not know our history! He cannot be the judge of this!" Lucanis protested.
"This is exactly why he will be the best judge!" Viago wasn't giving up. "He is impartial! He sees things as they happen!"
"He is hardly impartial," Teia smirked. "But regardless - what do you think of this, Anders? Is Illario a traitor or not?"
"Well?!" Lucanis glared at Teia and Anders both.
"Err..." Anders shuffled uncomfortably. Judging a family feud was no easy matter. "I think we don't know yet. I think we need to find your grandmother," he turned to Lucanis. "We need to determine with certainty how Zara knew where to find Lucanis when she abducted him," he looked at Viago. "And we need to discover who sent the Crows after me. The ones we intercepted had no idea," he added. "I believe this is all connected."
"They were of the lowest rank," Lucanis nodded. "Very green and rather unprofessional. They knew nothing and it seems to me they weren't supposed to succeed. Which is strange."
"To say the least!" Viago shook his head. "Officially, their lives are forfeit now. Why would we want to waste our own assassins, even green ones?"
"Someone wanted to send a message," Teia agreed. "They wanted Anders alive. You don't send green ones if you want the job done properly."
"Well, if we want to find grandmother, perhaps we should search the villa first," Lucanis offered. "Look for clues, and not just about her. Let's see what comes up."
...
Lucanis' grandmother Caterina was the head of Antivan Crows. She disappeared shortly after Anders and Lucanis escaped from the underwater prison. There was talk of an assassination, but as Caterina's body was also missing, people quickly dismissed that theory. No, she had been abducted, but by whom, remained a mystery as no one had claimed it yet. Besides, Lucanis' return to Treviso caused a stir, there was much talk of his spirit wings that many people saw during the fight with the dragon. Everyone agreed that he must have become an abomination, but no one was sure what he could do exactly, what the nature of the demon inside him was, and what it meant for the Crows, considering that Lucanis had been generally seen as the man to succeed Caterina in a not too distant future.
"There is no knowing what we'll find in the villa," Lucanis was saying as they were getting ready to leave. He stood before an open cupboard containing dozens of various throwing knives, daggers and short swords, and he was methodically packing them into folds and pouches on his armour. "We should be well prepared." He shot a glance at Anders who wasn't packing anything into his robe, apart from what he already had. "Are you ready?"
"I only need one dagger, as that is for me," Anders grinned. "And just one staff. I did pack all the potions that I dared... But yes, I tend to travel light."
"Well, if you say so..." Lucanis squinted. He wasn't used to working with mages. This wasn't like going after a dragon - that was just one big chaotic battle without any coordination. What they had to do now was a stealth mission - to infiltrate a private villa and search for clues. Of course, Lucanis had the key to the front door, but he didn't expect it to be accessible. He also had keys to back doors, but even there... if indeed his cousin Illario was holding Caterina in the villa, they would have no advantage from the keys. Lucanis and Illario both grew up there, they both orphaned young and Caterina took them in, they were both her grandsons... so indeed, they were more like brothers than cousins, and anything that Lucanis knew about the villa, Illario knew also.
"If we find Illario there..." Anders paused and Lucanis looked up. "What do you want to do?"
"Not killing him," Lucanis glared. "It depends... Incapacitate him if we have to... But actually... let's hope he won't be there."
The night had fallen and they set out towards the villa traveling through the "upper level" of the city, that is from roof to roof rather than along the streets. They emerged near a canal with several gondolas moored there. The villa was on the other side of the water.
They took one of the smaller boats and crossed the canal, then Lucanis directed the boat into a small side channel.
"There is no need to go through the front door," he smiled. "This is the one entrance that Illario might not know about - he's always been squeamish about rats."
The channel led into a tunnel, the tunnel into a sewage corridor, and from there they pushed a trapdoor and emerged in an old cellar somewhere behind the kitchens. The entrance was not guarded, and they didn't like it. Trying to make as little noise as possible, they made their way through the larders and the kitchens and finally entered the main foyer.
The villa was definitely not empty. They heard noises upstairs as well as further in the depths. Someone was pacing about, not trying to be silent. They heard conversation, footsteps, clinking glasses...
"Is Illario having a party?" Anders mouthed, raising an eyebrow.
"That's not Illario," Lucanis shook his head. "They are not speaking Antivan. Wrong accent."
They moved slowly towards the voices, it seemed the people were on the upper gallery. The foyer on the ground floor was not lit, with just a few oil lamps flickering in the corners. The darkness was their friend, but it could equally be a foe - someone could be hiding there. And someone was.
A blast of icy cold stopped them in their tracks, an ice mine started shimmering by the foot of the stairs.
"Stop!" Anders made a sign, but Lucanis had seen the mine too. They peered into the darkness, trying to find the mage. Anders thought he saw movement, and shot a bolt of lightning. There was a stifled sound and they caught a glimpse of someone... perhaps a woman. She had stood by a door, and now quickly disappeared through it. They heard some faint knocking where she went...
"Servants' quarters," Lucanis breathed, going after her. "Empty now, but watch out for intruders."
The rooms were indeed empty. The knocking sound was vanishing down the corridor, and they ran after it, fully aware and apprehensive that it could be a trap. Perhaps they should have gone up the stairs instead... but it was too late for that now.
"This leads outside," Lucanis pointed at the door behind which the mage vanished. "In the yard, we should be able to catch that mage!"
"Or run into an ambush!" Anders smirked, readying a spell. Lucanis unsheathed his daggers.
They ran out of the building. The yard was fenced off and well lit, which was a common anti-theft precaution practiced around many rich villas. The area was as light as day. There was no ambush, but they noticed movement in the corner.
"Ah-ha! No where to go!" Lucanis ran and jumped, landing nearly on top of the mage and knocking her to the ground.
"Wait! Wait!!" Anders shouted, sending a lightning bolt at the mage and knocking her on the ground too. "We want that mage alive!!"
"Oh... Good thinking," Lucanis stopped at the last moment. "Well... You can thank him that you're still alive," he looked down at the mage. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
The mage scrambled and sat up, massaging her left leg which had a prosthesis.
"I don't want to fight either of you," she looked at them in turn. "I am an investigator... I didn't know you would come here tonight! The villa is crawling with Venatori."
"Venatori? That explains the Tevinter accent," Anders nodded. "Neve Gallus, I presume? Forgive me, but your viper-shaped prosthesis rather gives it away."
"I am Neve," she nodded. "I was not trying to harm you just now, but to stop you going upstairs. I have information for you."
"Well, then talk!" Lucanis still held his sword pointing at her throat.
"Zara is after you both," she said as dramatically as she could manage from her position on the ground. "It was she who sent the Crows after Anders, but now that the top Crow escaped her prison, she called them off. She is trying to pull whatever strings she has to get you both back, get you locked up again." She stopped talking and looked at them triumphantly as if she delivered the world's greatest secret.
"Yeah, we figured as much," Anders smirked. "Now, what's your actual information?"
"Oh... well... that was it, in fact," Neve suddenly looked a lot less sure of herself. "Like I said, I came here to investigate. But you two showed up and prevented me from getting anywhere!" She glared.
"So this is now our fault!" Lucanis turned pale. "Please forgive me for coming to my family villa to search for my grandmother without your permission!" His voice was ice cold and his sword inched closer to Neve's neck.
"No, no, that's not what I meant!" She protested and finally managed to stand up. "I... No, it came out wrong," she smiled timidly at them. "I want to help you."
"What you want is Dorian's protection," Anders smirked. "Lest the Venatori should find out that you are not entirely faithful to them."
"They know it already," Neve said dismissively, regaining her confidence. "That's why I didn't know they wanted you in the first place. Zara no longer trusts me," she said with disdain. "And this isn't good for the Shadow Dragons."
"Who are Shadow Dragons?" Lucanis asked, but didn't lower his sword.
"Dorian's group," Anders shrugged. "Unofficially. Run by someone called the Viper. They are against slavery in Tevinter. And Neve here is a member. But she is also a member of the Venatori, as we've recently found out. That's all domestic politics, nothing to do with us. Except Zara, of course."
"Yes," Lucanis was watching Neve. "And our investigator here thought she would know all about Zara, but Zara was two steps ahead of her, as it turns out!" He scowled and Neve scowled back.
"Dorian brought her in to search for me when I was kidnapped," Anders nodded. "Which was when he found out she was a double agent. He wasn't pleased, to put it mildly."
"What do you want to do with her?" Lucanis extended his sword a bit further.
"Don't kill her yet," Anders stepped forward. "So, Neve," he moved away Lucanis' sword. "Tell me where we can find Zara."
"You aim high, don't you," Neve smirked. "I don't know where she is, I am not her secretary."
"Oh come now, you can do better than that," Lucanis took a step forward too. "I really want to have a chat with her."
"You!" Neve laughed. "She will have you for lunch."
"Minrathous," Anders answered his own question. "We know she is in Minrathous, when she is not visiting that underwater prison. She must have a portal of some sort to move quickly. The Venatori here must have come through a portal. You too must have used it. Tell us where it is."
"This is like pulling teeth, let's just kill her," Lucanis said impatiently when Neve didn't immediately answer.
"Yeah... you are probably right," Anders nodded and turned around.
"No!" Neve cried out. "I can tell you where the portal is... The back street behind the market, near the docks... it leads to another back street in Minrathous... But I don't know about the prison..."
"Can we even allow her to live?" Lucanis had had enough. "She'll run back to the Venatori."
"And tell them what?" Anders shrugged. "That you and I both live? I daresay they already noticed. She doesn't know anything else. Dorian wanted her alive for something."
"Dorian..." Neve smirked. "That's all we've been hearing from you today. I see he well and truly got you to his side after that evening at The Gay Vint. I bet you didn't tell Lucanis."
"Dorian is the whole reason you are alive," Anders said through his teeth, tying up her wrists. "What a waste of an evening! I hope he's got something good planned for you."
"We've no time left to search the villa tonight," Lucanis nodded. "Let's go. Someone will try that portal with her..."
...
It was already morning when Anders and Lucanis finally returned to his apartment, having taken care of Neve's escort back to Minrathous. Lucanis started brewing coffee.
"Now, that was a waste of time," he swore. "We discovered nothing about my grandmother, and the villa is still overrun by the Venatori."
"Why though, I wonder?" Anders nodded. "What do the Venatori want with Caterina? Or do you think they are after you for Zara?"
"May be, or may be they are after both of us for Zara," he shot Anders a glance. "There's talk..."
"...that where they find one of us, they also find the other," Anders nodded. "Does it bother you?"
"Not unless it gets us killed," he grinned. "But tell me..." he paused to pour out the coffee. "Is it true what Neve said about you and Dorian? That you are intimate?"
"Yes and no," Anders smiled. "We went to The Gay Vint in order to try and learn something, which we did. Also, Dorian wanted to convince everyone that he bought me for sex rather than blood magic or any other reason, and so I behaved accordingly. In truth he bought me to save my life," Anders added by way of justification. "I also frequently sleep in his bedroom, for the sake of appearances... but we are not lovers. Not as such. Although we have on occasion..." he sighed. "I'm making a mess of it, ain't I?"
"That's alright," Lucanis smiled, watching Anders blush. "He is an old friend, yes? Let's leave it at that."
"We are like brothers though!" Lucanis was adamant. "Illario would not do anything against me!"
"But the facts speak otherwise!" Viago shook his head. "You are deluding yourself, Lucanis! Anders, you tell him! He'll listen to you!"
"Anders does not know our history! He cannot be the judge of this!" Lucanis protested.
"This is exactly why he will be the best judge!" Viago wasn't giving up. "He is impartial! He sees things as they happen!"
"He is hardly impartial," Teia smirked. "But regardless - what do you think of this, Anders? Is Illario a traitor or not?"
"Well?!" Lucanis glared at Teia and Anders both.
"Err..." Anders shuffled uncomfortably. Judging a family feud was no easy matter. "I think we don't know yet. I think we need to find your grandmother," he turned to Lucanis. "We need to determine with certainty how Zara knew where to find Lucanis when she abducted him," he looked at Viago. "And we need to discover who sent the Crows after me. The ones we intercepted had no idea," he added. "I believe this is all connected."
"They were of the lowest rank," Lucanis nodded. "Very green and rather unprofessional. They knew nothing and it seems to me they weren't supposed to succeed. Which is strange."
"To say the least!" Viago shook his head. "Officially, their lives are forfeit now. Why would we want to waste our own assassins, even green ones?"
"Someone wanted to send a message," Teia agreed. "They wanted Anders alive. You don't send green ones if you want the job done properly."
"Well, if we want to find grandmother, perhaps we should search the villa first," Lucanis offered. "Look for clues, and not just about her. Let's see what comes up."
...
Lucanis' grandmother Caterina was the head of Antivan Crows. She disappeared shortly after Anders and Lucanis escaped from the underwater prison. There was talk of an assassination, but as Caterina's body was also missing, people quickly dismissed that theory. No, she had been abducted, but by whom, remained a mystery as no one had claimed it yet. Besides, Lucanis' return to Treviso caused a stir, there was much talk of his spirit wings that many people saw during the fight with the dragon. Everyone agreed that he must have become an abomination, but no one was sure what he could do exactly, what the nature of the demon inside him was, and what it meant for the Crows, considering that Lucanis had been generally seen as the man to succeed Caterina in a not too distant future.
"There is no knowing what we'll find in the villa," Lucanis was saying as they were getting ready to leave. He stood before an open cupboard containing dozens of various throwing knives, daggers and short swords, and he was methodically packing them into folds and pouches on his armour. "We should be well prepared." He shot a glance at Anders who wasn't packing anything into his robe, apart from what he already had. "Are you ready?"
"I only need one dagger, as that is for me," Anders grinned. "And just one staff. I did pack all the potions that I dared... But yes, I tend to travel light."
"Well, if you say so..." Lucanis squinted. He wasn't used to working with mages. This wasn't like going after a dragon - that was just one big chaotic battle without any coordination. What they had to do now was a stealth mission - to infiltrate a private villa and search for clues. Of course, Lucanis had the key to the front door, but he didn't expect it to be accessible. He also had keys to back doors, but even there... if indeed his cousin Illario was holding Caterina in the villa, they would have no advantage from the keys. Lucanis and Illario both grew up there, they both orphaned young and Caterina took them in, they were both her grandsons... so indeed, they were more like brothers than cousins, and anything that Lucanis knew about the villa, Illario knew also.
"If we find Illario there..." Anders paused and Lucanis looked up. "What do you want to do?"
"Not killing him," Lucanis glared. "It depends... Incapacitate him if we have to... But actually... let's hope he won't be there."
The night had fallen and they set out towards the villa traveling through the "upper level" of the city, that is from roof to roof rather than along the streets. They emerged near a canal with several gondolas moored there. The villa was on the other side of the water.
They took one of the smaller boats and crossed the canal, then Lucanis directed the boat into a small side channel.
"There is no need to go through the front door," he smiled. "This is the one entrance that Illario might not know about - he's always been squeamish about rats."
The channel led into a tunnel, the tunnel into a sewage corridor, and from there they pushed a trapdoor and emerged in an old cellar somewhere behind the kitchens. The entrance was not guarded, and they didn't like it. Trying to make as little noise as possible, they made their way through the larders and the kitchens and finally entered the main foyer.
The villa was definitely not empty. They heard noises upstairs as well as further in the depths. Someone was pacing about, not trying to be silent. They heard conversation, footsteps, clinking glasses...
"Is Illario having a party?" Anders mouthed, raising an eyebrow.
"That's not Illario," Lucanis shook his head. "They are not speaking Antivan. Wrong accent."
They moved slowly towards the voices, it seemed the people were on the upper gallery. The foyer on the ground floor was not lit, with just a few oil lamps flickering in the corners. The darkness was their friend, but it could equally be a foe - someone could be hiding there. And someone was.
A blast of icy cold stopped them in their tracks, an ice mine started shimmering by the foot of the stairs.
"Stop!" Anders made a sign, but Lucanis had seen the mine too. They peered into the darkness, trying to find the mage. Anders thought he saw movement, and shot a bolt of lightning. There was a stifled sound and they caught a glimpse of someone... perhaps a woman. She had stood by a door, and now quickly disappeared through it. They heard some faint knocking where she went...
"Servants' quarters," Lucanis breathed, going after her. "Empty now, but watch out for intruders."
The rooms were indeed empty. The knocking sound was vanishing down the corridor, and they ran after it, fully aware and apprehensive that it could be a trap. Perhaps they should have gone up the stairs instead... but it was too late for that now.
"This leads outside," Lucanis pointed at the door behind which the mage vanished. "In the yard, we should be able to catch that mage!"
"Or run into an ambush!" Anders smirked, readying a spell. Lucanis unsheathed his daggers.
They ran out of the building. The yard was fenced off and well lit, which was a common anti-theft precaution practiced around many rich villas. The area was as light as day. There was no ambush, but they noticed movement in the corner.
"Ah-ha! No where to go!" Lucanis ran and jumped, landing nearly on top of the mage and knocking her to the ground.
"Wait! Wait!!" Anders shouted, sending a lightning bolt at the mage and knocking her on the ground too. "We want that mage alive!!"
"Oh... Good thinking," Lucanis stopped at the last moment. "Well... You can thank him that you're still alive," he looked down at the mage. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
The mage scrambled and sat up, massaging her left leg which had a prosthesis.
"I don't want to fight either of you," she looked at them in turn. "I am an investigator... I didn't know you would come here tonight! The villa is crawling with Venatori."
"Venatori? That explains the Tevinter accent," Anders nodded. "Neve Gallus, I presume? Forgive me, but your viper-shaped prosthesis rather gives it away."
"I am Neve," she nodded. "I was not trying to harm you just now, but to stop you going upstairs. I have information for you."
"Well, then talk!" Lucanis still held his sword pointing at her throat.
"Zara is after you both," she said as dramatically as she could manage from her position on the ground. "It was she who sent the Crows after Anders, but now that the top Crow escaped her prison, she called them off. She is trying to pull whatever strings she has to get you both back, get you locked up again." She stopped talking and looked at them triumphantly as if she delivered the world's greatest secret.
"Yeah, we figured as much," Anders smirked. "Now, what's your actual information?"
"Oh... well... that was it, in fact," Neve suddenly looked a lot less sure of herself. "Like I said, I came here to investigate. But you two showed up and prevented me from getting anywhere!" She glared.
"So this is now our fault!" Lucanis turned pale. "Please forgive me for coming to my family villa to search for my grandmother without your permission!" His voice was ice cold and his sword inched closer to Neve's neck.
"No, no, that's not what I meant!" She protested and finally managed to stand up. "I... No, it came out wrong," she smiled timidly at them. "I want to help you."
"What you want is Dorian's protection," Anders smirked. "Lest the Venatori should find out that you are not entirely faithful to them."
"They know it already," Neve said dismissively, regaining her confidence. "That's why I didn't know they wanted you in the first place. Zara no longer trusts me," she said with disdain. "And this isn't good for the Shadow Dragons."
"Who are Shadow Dragons?" Lucanis asked, but didn't lower his sword.
"Dorian's group," Anders shrugged. "Unofficially. Run by someone called the Viper. They are against slavery in Tevinter. And Neve here is a member. But she is also a member of the Venatori, as we've recently found out. That's all domestic politics, nothing to do with us. Except Zara, of course."
"Yes," Lucanis was watching Neve. "And our investigator here thought she would know all about Zara, but Zara was two steps ahead of her, as it turns out!" He scowled and Neve scowled back.
"Dorian brought her in to search for me when I was kidnapped," Anders nodded. "Which was when he found out she was a double agent. He wasn't pleased, to put it mildly."
"What do you want to do with her?" Lucanis extended his sword a bit further.
"Don't kill her yet," Anders stepped forward. "So, Neve," he moved away Lucanis' sword. "Tell me where we can find Zara."
"You aim high, don't you," Neve smirked. "I don't know where she is, I am not her secretary."
"Oh come now, you can do better than that," Lucanis took a step forward too. "I really want to have a chat with her."
"You!" Neve laughed. "She will have you for lunch."
"Minrathous," Anders answered his own question. "We know she is in Minrathous, when she is not visiting that underwater prison. She must have a portal of some sort to move quickly. The Venatori here must have come through a portal. You too must have used it. Tell us where it is."
"This is like pulling teeth, let's just kill her," Lucanis said impatiently when Neve didn't immediately answer.
"Yeah... you are probably right," Anders nodded and turned around.
"No!" Neve cried out. "I can tell you where the portal is... The back street behind the market, near the docks... it leads to another back street in Minrathous... But I don't know about the prison..."
"Can we even allow her to live?" Lucanis had had enough. "She'll run back to the Venatori."
"And tell them what?" Anders shrugged. "That you and I both live? I daresay they already noticed. She doesn't know anything else. Dorian wanted her alive for something."
"Dorian..." Neve smirked. "That's all we've been hearing from you today. I see he well and truly got you to his side after that evening at The Gay Vint. I bet you didn't tell Lucanis."
"Dorian is the whole reason you are alive," Anders said through his teeth, tying up her wrists. "What a waste of an evening! I hope he's got something good planned for you."
"We've no time left to search the villa tonight," Lucanis nodded. "Let's go. Someone will try that portal with her..."
...
It was already morning when Anders and Lucanis finally returned to his apartment, having taken care of Neve's escort back to Minrathous. Lucanis started brewing coffee.
"Now, that was a waste of time," he swore. "We discovered nothing about my grandmother, and the villa is still overrun by the Venatori."
"Why though, I wonder?" Anders nodded. "What do the Venatori want with Caterina? Or do you think they are after you for Zara?"
"May be, or may be they are after both of us for Zara," he shot Anders a glance. "There's talk..."
"...that where they find one of us, they also find the other," Anders nodded. "Does it bother you?"
"Not unless it gets us killed," he grinned. "But tell me..." he paused to pour out the coffee. "Is it true what Neve said about you and Dorian? That you are intimate?"
"Yes and no," Anders smiled. "We went to The Gay Vint in order to try and learn something, which we did. Also, Dorian wanted to convince everyone that he bought me for sex rather than blood magic or any other reason, and so I behaved accordingly. In truth he bought me to save my life," Anders added by way of justification. "I also frequently sleep in his bedroom, for the sake of appearances... but we are not lovers. Not as such. Although we have on occasion..." he sighed. "I'm making a mess of it, ain't I?"
"That's alright," Lucanis smiled, watching Anders blush. "He is an old friend, yes? Let's leave it at that."
Evening Star, 3E410 - Hello, cousin
The following night Anders and Lucanis set off to Lucanis' family villa again, but now they knew what to expect. The villa was overrun with Venatori, the unfriendly blood mages from Tevinter. It was not clear what they were doing there, and whether they had anything to do with the disappearance of Lucanis' grandmother; it was also unclear what role Lucanis' cousin Illario played in all of this, if any. Those were the questions that they wanted answered.
They entered the same way as the previous night - through the sewers. The passage was still unguarded, which could mean that either the Venatori had no idea about it, or that they didn't care, or may be even that they wanted Anders and Lucanis to enter the villa so that they could be caught in a trap. At any rate, caution was advised.
Like the previous night, the ground floor foyer was empty, with voices coming from the upper floor. This time Anders and Lucanis decided to go through the entire villa, room by room, looking for any clues to answer their many questions. For the most part, the rooms were empty and untouched - the Venatori were definitely not ransacking the house. They were there with a purpose...
Finally Venatori guards started appearing, which meant that they were going in the right direction. After a few simple fights, they ran into a group led by a blood mage, and although Anders and Lucanis still won, the fight was of a different caliber. A search of the room revealed some scraps of paper with what looked like orders for the Venatori to take positions at the villa. Someone was making preparations.
"This doesn't look like a trap for you and me," Lucanis tried to piece together the message on the scraps. "They were going to occupy the villa and guard something or someone further in. May be Caterina? But it is not clear why."
"We should keep going," Anders nodded. "Kill a few more Venatori, may be more senior members of their group have more detailed orders. Prepare for blood magic. They are going to try to manipulate us."
"I killed a few blood mages in my day," Lucanis smirked. "That's why they call me the Demon of Vyrantium. Of course, that was before I got an actual demon."
"Spite can be manipulated too, and through him - you," Anders pointed out. "Remember what Avernus told us. These Venatori orders may well be from Zara, and who knows what sort of enchanted artefacts may be about..."
"Well, what do you want me to do?!" Lucanis snapped impatiently. "If they have magic of that kind, we'll see it. Come on."
They continued going through the villa, they fought some guards and a few more blood mages, but nothing out of the ordinary. They also did not find any further orders or papers of any importance. It was becoming very frustrating.
"Caterina is here somewhere, in this house," Lucanis stood in front of an open cupboard in one of the larger bedrooms. "This is her room, and the clothes in this cupboard have been disturbed. Like someone picked a few to give to her. She never left such a mess in here!"
Anders was going to say that it was probably the neatest room he'd ever seen, but apparently by Caterina's standards it was a mess.
"Someone is keeping her in reasonable comfort if they brought her fresh clothes," he pointed out. "But why? Nobody made ransom demands..."
"We shall know it when we find her," Lucanis said forcefully, closing the cupboard behind him. "The garden wing. No one's been using it for ages. It is out of the way, too. She must be there."
The way to the garden wing was not guarded, and Anders thought that surely it was the wrong direction... but then Lucanis pushed what looked like a solid wall and it swung inwards revealing a darkened room with a single candle burning further in.
"Caterina!" Lucanis said softly but distinctly. "Luca. With a friend." He walked in, watching for an ambush, then jumped, getting hold of something... Anders smirked - the old lady would act first and ask questions later. "Caterina! Grandmother... Look, I am who I say I am. We came looking for you."
Anders was still standing in the corridor, watching a shadow of Lucanis jump back and forth in a dark room. But then he heard noises further in the house, so he too entered and closed the door.
"Caterina!" He called. "I am Anders. Perhaps you've heard of me... or perhaps not. Is Illario with you?"
"Illario!" A lady's voice trembled with anger. "That rascal!"
"Caterina, please put down the stick," Lucanis exclaimed, while still trying to keep his voice down. "I am Luca! Please, grandmother!"
"Luca..." she sighed. "Are you really? I was told Lucanis was dead!"
"Almost, but not completely," Anders grinned, remembering how Lucanis indeed almost died in the battle with the dragon in Treviso... but Spite kept him from dying completely.
"Almost, eh?" Caterina seemed to have stopped struggling because Lucanis stopped jumping. She stepped to the table with a single candle and turned up an oil lamp. "So, let me look at you, one who claims to be my Luca..."
The lamp illuminated a sparsely furnished room with a cot, a table and a chair in a large empty space. A tray with some remnants of food stood on the floor. Caterina turned to Lucanis, still holding her walking stick with a large crow head at the ready.
"But it is I..." Lucanis started saying again, but after a few moments she beamed at him and squeezed him in an embrace.
"My grandson..!"
She held him close, knocking the breath out of him, and Anders thought that perhaps it was her own breath that she wanted to hold... A tear ran down her cheek but she soon regained her composure and let go of Lucanis.
"And so it is you!" She smiled brightly. "Ooh, Illario has a lot to answer for!" She suddenly exclaimed in anger again. "He told me you were dead! That our family was reduced to him and me! That rivals were after us and so he had to lock me up here for my own protection! Really!" Her cheeks blushed with even more anger, and Anders figured she was definitely not a lady to cross.
"But why did you let him, Caterina?" Lucanis was still holding her by the shoulders. "Illario cannot just lock you up in your own house!"
"I did not agree to this!" She shook her head vehemently. "I was drugged! I woke up here! Illario has been bringing me food and fresh clothes... saying that it would not be long, that he was on the trail of a traitor... But I think I know who the traitor is!"
"Why did Illario say I was dead?" Lucanis tried to lead his grandmother to the single chair in the room. Eventually she let him and sat down.
"He lied, of course!" She exclaimed forcefully, but also kept her voice down. "He wants to be the head of the Crows! He wants me to step down! But I shall not step down for him!"
"He wants you to step down..?" Lucanis looked surprised, then shook his head, looking as angry as his grandmother. Family resemblance was unmistakable. "Since when?!"
"Since you disappeared a year ago..." she said softly. "Saying that a rival family is trying to take over the Crows... trying to eliminate us all... which isn't that hard, since it is only I and my two grandsons..."
"He will answer for this!" Lucanis said with a scowl. "We have to get you out of here."
"Well, actually..." Anders, who'd been quiet all this time, decided to interrupt. "Actually, it may be better for Caterina to stay here a little longer."
"What?! Why?" Lucanis cried in surprise.
"We still don't know why this villa is overrun with the Venatori," Anders reminded him. "Are they here to guard Caterina? Or to lay a trap for you and me? Did Illario invite them? Or was that Zara? And if so, is she planning to visit here herself..?" Anders cut himself off as Caterina turned her gaze on him, seeing right through him, he thought.
"Your friend thinks Illario might have been involved in your disappearance," she said calmly. "He is right."
"But we are like brothers!" Lucanis exclaimed and threw his arms in the air. "He would not do such a thing to me!"
"He would, Luca," Caterina said softly but firmly. "And he must have done. Nobody knew about that contract when you vanished... nobody, except Illario."
"But then... he works for Zara," Lucanis said darkly.
"Or has an arrangement with her... A mutually beneficial agreement," Anders shook his head. "She gets you for her experiments, and he gets his grandmother's undivided attention..."
"Your escape forced his hand," Caterina nodded. "I shall not ask now where you've been and how you made it out - that is for later. Now you have to cut the knot between Illario and... Zara, was it?" She looked from Lucanis to Anders and back. "And since the villa is occupied by strangers... I shall stay here for now. Come back when Illario is no longer a threat."
Anders and Lucanis left and decided to clear the villa of Venatori. For one, it was a good cause, and for two, they still hoped that someone among them would have more revealing papers.
They took it slow and steady, clearing area after area and not running ahead until their wounds from each encounter were healed or bandaged. Lucanis was getting impatient at first, objecting that Anders was slowing them down with his propensity to treat every scratch, but after some time he realised that he was not used to long and drawn out campaigns as he always had a single target to kill with each contract, not clear a large villa. Anders, on the other hand, was used to exactly that kind of clearing and knew just how quickly those minor flesh wounds and scratches could accumulate to the point of becoming overwhelming. It was then already morning when they finally stepped outside, but they weren't done yet.
"The gardens," Lucanis smiled. "Always in bloom... flowers change with seasons, but there is always colour..." He stretched, enjoying the sunshine. "Across the gardens is the theatre. We never really were into staging plays, but every villa must have one," he chuckled. "We just used it for parties."
"Is this the last building?" Anders was more concerned with getting it over with.
"No, there's still the pool... right next to the theatre. Don't ask me why!" He shrugged and laughed. "Illario and I always found it hilarious... we'd chase each other between the rows of chairs in the theatre, then plunge into the pool..."
"Where first?" Anders noticed a low building of a pool slightly behind a grand building of a theatre. The pool was barely noticeable, and may be that was the point.
"The theatre," Lucanis started walking. "Let's leave getting wet till last."
The theatre was empty, apart from a few guards. However, the chairs were arranged ready for a performance or a gathering.
"What's going on here?" Lucanis walked around. "It's set out for a celebration, a reception perhaps..."
"Illario getting ready to celebrate him becoming the head of the Crows, perhaps?" Anders squinted. "But there's nothing here. Let's try the pool."
The pool was filled with blood. They froze as soon as they stepped through the door - the unmistakable sweet and slightly nauseating odour hung in the air, they knew the room had a lot of blood before they saw it. It was blood alchemically preserved so it would not congeal. Blood collected for some special ritual.
"Just how many people had to be bled to fill the whole pool?" Lucanis was looking at it in disgust.
"One or two, no more," Anders squatted at the edge, dipping his fingers into the blood, then liking them to get the taste. "This isn't pure blood," he got up. "This is mostly water with enough blood dissolved in it to give it the colour. This has no magical properties - it is too diluted. It cannot be used in a ritual..."
"It can, just not in the usual way," someone said from the other side of the pool. "It does have a rather startling effect, wouldn't you say?" A richly dressed mage stepped out from behind a column, his pronounced Tevinter accent and the style of his robes making him into a Magister.
"So what - you startle your victims to death?!" Lucanis exclaimed with derision. "What are you doing on my family estate?!"
"Ahhh, the Demon of Vyrantium is here, in person!" The mage cried out with joy. "A little early, the party isn't scheduled to start for a few more days... but we can provide lodgings until then."
He shot a lightning bolt across the room and the blood in the pool reflected it like firework.
"I do not want to kill you!" He shouted. "Not yet! Not today! Zara wants you back!"
"But I do want to kill you! Here and now!" Lucanis retorted, starting to run around the pool towards the mage, with Anders following. The mage readied a spell, waiting for Lucanis to turn the corner. Timing was everything.
"No, cousin, not now!" Suddenly Illario entered through a side door and stepped between Lucanis and the mage. He had a peculiar red broche. He touched it, and Lucanis collapsed, unconscious. "He is not dead," Illario said to Anders. "Take him away when he recovers. Never come back." He made a sign to the mage and they both left the pool house.
Anders knelt over Lucanis - he was indeed not dead. His breathing was shallow but otherwise he seemed unharmed. What just happened? Anders wondered. What sort of an enchanted broche was that? It had a tell-tale red glow... was that red lyrium?
Lucanis stirred, interrupting his musings.
"What happened?" He sat up with difficulty. "I saw Illario come in..."
"How do you feel?" Anders was checking his pulse. "Some kind of magic made you collapse. The question is why."
"I feel... alone," Lucanis looked up. "Spite is silent."
"This is not good!" Anders shook his head, worried.
"Why not? May be I am finally rid of him?" Lucanis grinned.
"No, not like this... something else happened..." Anders got up. "Can you walk? We should go."
"I can walk... go where? What about Caterina? Illario? What is going on?!" Lucanis was getting agitated. He got to his feet, but stumbled, and had to hold on to Anders so as not to fall. "I feel... dizzy," he shook his head. "Nothing serious, I'm sure."
"Oh, I think this is serious," Anders said gravely, getting hold of Lucanis securely. "Put your arm around my shoulders and let's go. Everything else can wait. If this is what I think it is, your days are numbered."
"My days were numbered the moment I was born to the Crows," Lucanis smirked, accepting Anders' support. "But alright. Where are we going?"
"Minrathous," Anders replied, leading him out of the villa. "Time to test that portal than Neve told us about. It better be working."
The following night Anders and Lucanis set off to Lucanis' family villa again, but now they knew what to expect. The villa was overrun with Venatori, the unfriendly blood mages from Tevinter. It was not clear what they were doing there, and whether they had anything to do with the disappearance of Lucanis' grandmother; it was also unclear what role Lucanis' cousin Illario played in all of this, if any. Those were the questions that they wanted answered.
They entered the same way as the previous night - through the sewers. The passage was still unguarded, which could mean that either the Venatori had no idea about it, or that they didn't care, or may be even that they wanted Anders and Lucanis to enter the villa so that they could be caught in a trap. At any rate, caution was advised.
Like the previous night, the ground floor foyer was empty, with voices coming from the upper floor. This time Anders and Lucanis decided to go through the entire villa, room by room, looking for any clues to answer their many questions. For the most part, the rooms were empty and untouched - the Venatori were definitely not ransacking the house. They were there with a purpose...
Finally Venatori guards started appearing, which meant that they were going in the right direction. After a few simple fights, they ran into a group led by a blood mage, and although Anders and Lucanis still won, the fight was of a different caliber. A search of the room revealed some scraps of paper with what looked like orders for the Venatori to take positions at the villa. Someone was making preparations.
"This doesn't look like a trap for you and me," Lucanis tried to piece together the message on the scraps. "They were going to occupy the villa and guard something or someone further in. May be Caterina? But it is not clear why."
"We should keep going," Anders nodded. "Kill a few more Venatori, may be more senior members of their group have more detailed orders. Prepare for blood magic. They are going to try to manipulate us."
"I killed a few blood mages in my day," Lucanis smirked. "That's why they call me the Demon of Vyrantium. Of course, that was before I got an actual demon."
"Spite can be manipulated too, and through him - you," Anders pointed out. "Remember what Avernus told us. These Venatori orders may well be from Zara, and who knows what sort of enchanted artefacts may be about..."
"Well, what do you want me to do?!" Lucanis snapped impatiently. "If they have magic of that kind, we'll see it. Come on."
They continued going through the villa, they fought some guards and a few more blood mages, but nothing out of the ordinary. They also did not find any further orders or papers of any importance. It was becoming very frustrating.
"Caterina is here somewhere, in this house," Lucanis stood in front of an open cupboard in one of the larger bedrooms. "This is her room, and the clothes in this cupboard have been disturbed. Like someone picked a few to give to her. She never left such a mess in here!"
Anders was going to say that it was probably the neatest room he'd ever seen, but apparently by Caterina's standards it was a mess.
"Someone is keeping her in reasonable comfort if they brought her fresh clothes," he pointed out. "But why? Nobody made ransom demands..."
"We shall know it when we find her," Lucanis said forcefully, closing the cupboard behind him. "The garden wing. No one's been using it for ages. It is out of the way, too. She must be there."
The way to the garden wing was not guarded, and Anders thought that surely it was the wrong direction... but then Lucanis pushed what looked like a solid wall and it swung inwards revealing a darkened room with a single candle burning further in.
"Caterina!" Lucanis said softly but distinctly. "Luca. With a friend." He walked in, watching for an ambush, then jumped, getting hold of something... Anders smirked - the old lady would act first and ask questions later. "Caterina! Grandmother... Look, I am who I say I am. We came looking for you."
Anders was still standing in the corridor, watching a shadow of Lucanis jump back and forth in a dark room. But then he heard noises further in the house, so he too entered and closed the door.
"Caterina!" He called. "I am Anders. Perhaps you've heard of me... or perhaps not. Is Illario with you?"
"Illario!" A lady's voice trembled with anger. "That rascal!"
"Caterina, please put down the stick," Lucanis exclaimed, while still trying to keep his voice down. "I am Luca! Please, grandmother!"
"Luca..." she sighed. "Are you really? I was told Lucanis was dead!"
"Almost, but not completely," Anders grinned, remembering how Lucanis indeed almost died in the battle with the dragon in Treviso... but Spite kept him from dying completely.
"Almost, eh?" Caterina seemed to have stopped struggling because Lucanis stopped jumping. She stepped to the table with a single candle and turned up an oil lamp. "So, let me look at you, one who claims to be my Luca..."
The lamp illuminated a sparsely furnished room with a cot, a table and a chair in a large empty space. A tray with some remnants of food stood on the floor. Caterina turned to Lucanis, still holding her walking stick with a large crow head at the ready.
"But it is I..." Lucanis started saying again, but after a few moments she beamed at him and squeezed him in an embrace.
"My grandson..!"
She held him close, knocking the breath out of him, and Anders thought that perhaps it was her own breath that she wanted to hold... A tear ran down her cheek but she soon regained her composure and let go of Lucanis.
"And so it is you!" She smiled brightly. "Ooh, Illario has a lot to answer for!" She suddenly exclaimed in anger again. "He told me you were dead! That our family was reduced to him and me! That rivals were after us and so he had to lock me up here for my own protection! Really!" Her cheeks blushed with even more anger, and Anders figured she was definitely not a lady to cross.
"But why did you let him, Caterina?" Lucanis was still holding her by the shoulders. "Illario cannot just lock you up in your own house!"
"I did not agree to this!" She shook her head vehemently. "I was drugged! I woke up here! Illario has been bringing me food and fresh clothes... saying that it would not be long, that he was on the trail of a traitor... But I think I know who the traitor is!"
"Why did Illario say I was dead?" Lucanis tried to lead his grandmother to the single chair in the room. Eventually she let him and sat down.
"He lied, of course!" She exclaimed forcefully, but also kept her voice down. "He wants to be the head of the Crows! He wants me to step down! But I shall not step down for him!"
"He wants you to step down..?" Lucanis looked surprised, then shook his head, looking as angry as his grandmother. Family resemblance was unmistakable. "Since when?!"
"Since you disappeared a year ago..." she said softly. "Saying that a rival family is trying to take over the Crows... trying to eliminate us all... which isn't that hard, since it is only I and my two grandsons..."
"He will answer for this!" Lucanis said with a scowl. "We have to get you out of here."
"Well, actually..." Anders, who'd been quiet all this time, decided to interrupt. "Actually, it may be better for Caterina to stay here a little longer."
"What?! Why?" Lucanis cried in surprise.
"We still don't know why this villa is overrun with the Venatori," Anders reminded him. "Are they here to guard Caterina? Or to lay a trap for you and me? Did Illario invite them? Or was that Zara? And if so, is she planning to visit here herself..?" Anders cut himself off as Caterina turned her gaze on him, seeing right through him, he thought.
"Your friend thinks Illario might have been involved in your disappearance," she said calmly. "He is right."
"But we are like brothers!" Lucanis exclaimed and threw his arms in the air. "He would not do such a thing to me!"
"He would, Luca," Caterina said softly but firmly. "And he must have done. Nobody knew about that contract when you vanished... nobody, except Illario."
"But then... he works for Zara," Lucanis said darkly.
"Or has an arrangement with her... A mutually beneficial agreement," Anders shook his head. "She gets you for her experiments, and he gets his grandmother's undivided attention..."
"Your escape forced his hand," Caterina nodded. "I shall not ask now where you've been and how you made it out - that is for later. Now you have to cut the knot between Illario and... Zara, was it?" She looked from Lucanis to Anders and back. "And since the villa is occupied by strangers... I shall stay here for now. Come back when Illario is no longer a threat."
Anders and Lucanis left and decided to clear the villa of Venatori. For one, it was a good cause, and for two, they still hoped that someone among them would have more revealing papers.
They took it slow and steady, clearing area after area and not running ahead until their wounds from each encounter were healed or bandaged. Lucanis was getting impatient at first, objecting that Anders was slowing them down with his propensity to treat every scratch, but after some time he realised that he was not used to long and drawn out campaigns as he always had a single target to kill with each contract, not clear a large villa. Anders, on the other hand, was used to exactly that kind of clearing and knew just how quickly those minor flesh wounds and scratches could accumulate to the point of becoming overwhelming. It was then already morning when they finally stepped outside, but they weren't done yet.
"The gardens," Lucanis smiled. "Always in bloom... flowers change with seasons, but there is always colour..." He stretched, enjoying the sunshine. "Across the gardens is the theatre. We never really were into staging plays, but every villa must have one," he chuckled. "We just used it for parties."
"Is this the last building?" Anders was more concerned with getting it over with.
"No, there's still the pool... right next to the theatre. Don't ask me why!" He shrugged and laughed. "Illario and I always found it hilarious... we'd chase each other between the rows of chairs in the theatre, then plunge into the pool..."
"Where first?" Anders noticed a low building of a pool slightly behind a grand building of a theatre. The pool was barely noticeable, and may be that was the point.
"The theatre," Lucanis started walking. "Let's leave getting wet till last."
The theatre was empty, apart from a few guards. However, the chairs were arranged ready for a performance or a gathering.
"What's going on here?" Lucanis walked around. "It's set out for a celebration, a reception perhaps..."
"Illario getting ready to celebrate him becoming the head of the Crows, perhaps?" Anders squinted. "But there's nothing here. Let's try the pool."
The pool was filled with blood. They froze as soon as they stepped through the door - the unmistakable sweet and slightly nauseating odour hung in the air, they knew the room had a lot of blood before they saw it. It was blood alchemically preserved so it would not congeal. Blood collected for some special ritual.
"Just how many people had to be bled to fill the whole pool?" Lucanis was looking at it in disgust.
"One or two, no more," Anders squatted at the edge, dipping his fingers into the blood, then liking them to get the taste. "This isn't pure blood," he got up. "This is mostly water with enough blood dissolved in it to give it the colour. This has no magical properties - it is too diluted. It cannot be used in a ritual..."
"It can, just not in the usual way," someone said from the other side of the pool. "It does have a rather startling effect, wouldn't you say?" A richly dressed mage stepped out from behind a column, his pronounced Tevinter accent and the style of his robes making him into a Magister.
"So what - you startle your victims to death?!" Lucanis exclaimed with derision. "What are you doing on my family estate?!"
"Ahhh, the Demon of Vyrantium is here, in person!" The mage cried out with joy. "A little early, the party isn't scheduled to start for a few more days... but we can provide lodgings until then."
He shot a lightning bolt across the room and the blood in the pool reflected it like firework.
"I do not want to kill you!" He shouted. "Not yet! Not today! Zara wants you back!"
"But I do want to kill you! Here and now!" Lucanis retorted, starting to run around the pool towards the mage, with Anders following. The mage readied a spell, waiting for Lucanis to turn the corner. Timing was everything.
"No, cousin, not now!" Suddenly Illario entered through a side door and stepped between Lucanis and the mage. He had a peculiar red broche. He touched it, and Lucanis collapsed, unconscious. "He is not dead," Illario said to Anders. "Take him away when he recovers. Never come back." He made a sign to the mage and they both left the pool house.
Anders knelt over Lucanis - he was indeed not dead. His breathing was shallow but otherwise he seemed unharmed. What just happened? Anders wondered. What sort of an enchanted broche was that? It had a tell-tale red glow... was that red lyrium?
Lucanis stirred, interrupting his musings.
"What happened?" He sat up with difficulty. "I saw Illario come in..."
"How do you feel?" Anders was checking his pulse. "Some kind of magic made you collapse. The question is why."
"I feel... alone," Lucanis looked up. "Spite is silent."
"This is not good!" Anders shook his head, worried.
"Why not? May be I am finally rid of him?" Lucanis grinned.
"No, not like this... something else happened..." Anders got up. "Can you walk? We should go."
"I can walk... go where? What about Caterina? Illario? What is going on?!" Lucanis was getting agitated. He got to his feet, but stumbled, and had to hold on to Anders so as not to fall. "I feel... dizzy," he shook his head. "Nothing serious, I'm sure."
"Oh, I think this is serious," Anders said gravely, getting hold of Lucanis securely. "Put your arm around my shoulders and let's go. Everything else can wait. If this is what I think it is, your days are numbered."
"My days were numbered the moment I was born to the Crows," Lucanis smirked, accepting Anders' support. "But alright. Where are we going?"
"Minrathous," Anders replied, leading him out of the villa. "Time to test that portal than Neve told us about. It better be working."
Evening Star, 3E410 - Spite
"Spite took a hit," Anders declared by way of explanation when he and Lucanis entered the Pavus Manor in Minrathous, with Lucanis barely able to walk. "Emmrich, can you discern how bad it is?"
"The spirit possessing Lucanis had been injured? Directly?" Emmrich looked up. "In Mundus? Remarkable!"
"And very bad for Lucanis and the spirit both," Anders nodded. "They had an enchanted red lyrium artefact... I cannot sense Spite at all."
"Yes, yes, of course, that would be most detrimental..." Emmrich scrambled to get his staff. "We need room for this... Come and sit here," he put a chair in the middle of the salon gesturing Lucanis towards it. "It may hurt a little..."
"Hurt?" Lucanis looked around, but everyone else was nonplussed and Emmrich was already absorbed in his ritual. "Just what is he going to do to me?!" He stared at Anders.
"Not to worry, just a simple spirit probe, from what I can tell..." Anders tried to reassure him watching Emmrich's incantation. "But yeah, it can be slightly..."
"Ouch!" Lucanis jumped up, that was hurting clearly more than a little.
"No, no, stay seated..." Anders pushed him back into the chair, gently but firmly grabbing his shoulder. "It's worse for Spite, trust me..."
"If you had told me upfront..!" Lucanis' face was contorted with pain.
"That's why I didn't," Anders tried to speak soothingly, but held Lucanis firmly in his chair. "We have to know where we stand, and this is the best approach."
"So there are other ways to get to the bottom of it without putting me through this torture?!" Lucanis would be getting angry if he wasn't hurting so much.
"Yes, but none as effective or as accurate. It shouldn't take much longer," Anders smiled, watching Emmrich's movements.
"For an assassin, you are not very good with pain, Lucanis," Harding pointed out. "I expected you to have a higher tolerance to it."
"For an assassin!" Lucanis laughed. "I am the one hurting people, remember? Not the other way around! And I don't torture them first! It's all over quickly for them! Not like this!!"
"Alright, it's finished," Emmrich put away his staff. "The pain should subside eventually..."
"Eventually! Sadists is what you mages are!!" Lucanis was properly angry now. "That's why I hate working with mages!"
"It's bad," Emmrich gave Anders a look of significance. "We should confer..."
"Hey!!! Merda!! I'm still here!!!" Lucanis jumped up, now that Anders was no longer holding him down.
"I am sorry for the trickery, my friend," Anders faced him. "But we had to know. You need to rest now, eat, sleep, lie down anyway... I shall join you shortly, I am not letting you out of my sight... I'm sure Dorian won't mind me no longer sharing his bedroom."
"Lucanis - you can have the large bedroom to the right," Dorian came to the middle of the room to play the host. "Emmrich, Anders, Bellara and myself will confer in the library. Davrin, bring us Neve after a bit, she's relaxing in the dungeons, and she needs supervision... at all times, please," he looked at Davrin who nodded. "The rest of you..." he shot a glance at the butler who bowed curtly. "Refreshments will be provided. Don't leave until we return."
He made a gesture with his wrist to signal the end of instructions, and promptly Emmrich, Anders and Bellara got up to follow him, while the others looked expectantly at the butler awaiting refreshments.
"And that is why Dorian is a Magister and I ain't," Varric smirked to himself, uncorking yet another bottle of premium Tevinter whisky.
...
"Zara of the Venatori created an artefact that allows to influence and damage a spirit possessing a host, and do it here in Mundus without going into the Fade to confront the spirit there," Emmrich summarised the situation to the other mages. "Illario used this artefact to attack Spite that is possessing Lucanis. Or rather I should say - Determination, for that is the proper name of the spirit. And no, it isn't a demon."
"That is bad news for Lucanis, but which other dangers does this artefact present?" Bellara looked up. "For those of us who aren't possessed by demons, that is."
"Zara is working to create demons of her own design, either having them possess slaves or even commanding them without possession," Anders explained. "Lucanis was her experiment. It didn't quite work because Spite didn't turn into a demon and does not answer to Zara. However, he still cannot stand up to that artefact. The danger of it is that Zara is building a demon army and that she will actually be able to control it too."
"Does that artefact control Spite and thus Lucanis?" Dorian looked concerned. "Could Lucanis turn onto us? Not of his own free will, you understand, but..."
"...but if he were controlled?" Emmrich picked up his phrase. "No. From what I've seen, that experiment really failed as far as Zara is concerned - she cannot make Spite do things. She can harm him though."
"Then for Lucanis it means that his life is in grave danger," Dorian nodded. "But on a grander scale there's Zara's demon army. Zara must die, and quickly."
"I think we all agree on that," Bellara nodded. "I also think that Lucanis has to be sacrificed."
"No." Anders said with an intensity that made everyone stare.
"You are saying this because he reminds you of your experience with Justice," Bellara shook her head. "I understand. Well, I don't really, I have no idea what it's like to be possessed by a demon... err... spirit... whatever. But I understand why you are so emphatic. But the truth is that Lucanis is a danger to others."
"No." Anders repeated. He was tense, his face was white, he was almost shaking. The reason he didn't say anything else was that he used all his willpower to control his emotions. Bellara was playing with danger.
"Sacrificing members of this group is out of the question," Dorian said with urgency, shooting sideways glances at Anders. "You really don't know what you are talking about, Bellara."
"I think we are digressing," Emmrich also sounded concerned. "The moment we even start discussing sacrificing members of the group for the good of the others, we spell out the death of the group. Can't you see that, Bellara?" He looked at her with that sad and disappointed expression that professors bestow on their favourite students when they commit unforgivable mistakes. "A group where people are anxious to be sacrificed for the good of the cause cannot function!"
"Well... if you put it this way..." Bellara shrugged. "Oh very well. He'll die all by himself soon enough."
"Ah... And that is the first topic on the agenda of this conference," Emmrich cleared his throat. "The second topic is how to kill Zara. But let us first focus on how to save Lucanis."
"What is Spite's condition?" Anders finally managed to speak. "You said it was bad."
"It is," Emmrich nodded. "You know how you can fight a spirit in the Fade and kill it... well, they've done the same thing, but without going into the Fade. Determination is almost dead."
"Almost?" Dorian gave him a long look. "But not completely because he is possessing Lucanis, yes?"
"Yes," Emmrich nodded. "Determination is alive because Lucanis' spirit - his soul - keeps it alive. But this is destroying the soul. Slowly, but certainly. Conversely, Determination has done the same for Lucanis in the past - when Lucanis was almost dead, Determination gave of itself to keep him alive. This is why I am certain it isn't a demon."
"It is a symbiosis then," Bellara spoke again and everyone glared, even though what she said was true. They just didn't trust her to speak.
"The ritual that Zara used to implant Determination into Lucanis, effectively fused them together," Emmrich nodded. "I could see no way to separate them without removing a significant part of each of them in the process. This would either kill them or damage them beyond recognition."
"Such as turning Determination into an actual demon or removing humanity from Lucanis," Anders nodded. "Justice told me about such things."
"Indeed," Emmrich inclined his head. "But even with you, Anders..." He paused, as if contemplating whether he should say what he was going to say. "Justice was never merged with your soul... Yet even after he cut the connection and left, he isn't entirely gone. You have been changed forever."
"I should have been dead," Anders nodded. "It took... well... someone else had to step in and give me something of himself to repair the damage, to plug that hole..."
"But I am not suggesting separating Spite and Lucanis," Emmrich tried to gently steer the conversation in the right direction. "What I meant rather was that Justice still influences the way you think even though he is long gone. And the same is true for Lucanis - Determination makes him more focused, but on the other hand, his life experiences make Determination look for options instead of always taking the shortest route."
"Where are you going with this?" Dorian squinted.
"I think the way for Lucanis to survive is to embrace Determination. To help him. To willingly support him. That will heal the spirit, Spite will be back and will stop leeching life energy from Lucanis' soul."
Emmrich finished speaking and looked at everyone in turn. Bellara shook her head in disbelief but didn't say anything. Anders was looking into the distance as if consulting with someone unseen. Dorian was rubbing his chin, but after a while his expression cleared and he nodded.
"The only question is, whether Lucanis will want to do it," he said. "He wants to be rid of Spite at present."
"It's up to you, Anders," Emmrich spoke softly. "You have gone through the same with Justice. You have to guide Lucanis on this journey. You have to convince him to accept it."
"Or else he'll die," Anders nodded.
"I think everyone is already fully convinced that I am still exclusively gay," Dorian smiled. "You no longer need to sleep in my bedroom." Anders and Emmrich smiled to that while Bellara looked completely bewildered, and everyone laughed at the way she looked. A little light-hearted intermezzo was very welcome.
"Very well, now for the second topic on our agenda - how to kill Zara," Emmrich cleared his throat again. "Or rather, how to find her. The killing part is obvious. Not easy, but obvious."
"Yeah, cutting off her head would do the trick," Anders laughed, remembering Alistair's favourite method.
"What about Neve - can she lead us to Zara? Can we trust Neve?" Emmrich looked at Dorian.
"Neve is now persona non grata with the Venatori," Dorian looked up. "Some sources I spoke to, say the Venatori want her dead. Other sources say she isn't important enough - yet. The Crows have been spotted delivering a letter to her - with a brick through the window. She isn't saying, but we must assume it was a threat to become hunted by the Crows unless she does something for Zara... It's pretty clear-cut as it goes."
"The Crows... no, wait. Lucanis is from the Crows," Bellara shuddered. "With all that Spite business I completely forgot... but Lucanis is a Crow!" She beamed at everyone. "So he would know about this, right?"
"Well..." Dorian chuckled. "The Crows have factions. Lucanis asked around - this isn't official business, this is somebody going rogue, but somebody high up. His cousin perhaps. Either way, Lucanis would not know."
"So, Neve," Emmrich picked up the thread of the conversation. "Can we use her and is she to be trusted?"
"I think so," Dorian nodded. "Let's call for Davrin."
He pressed a button that no one realised was there, and a servant appeared, nodded and left, all within a few seconds. Shortly afterwards Davrin entered with Neve.
"I have considered your request, Neve," Dorian spoke quite formally. "You may stay in this house and under my protection if you disclose your connections to the Venatori - and not just to me, but to the Shadow Dragons, that is, to the Viper. You will then help us find and kill Zara. You must realise that this will completely ruin your affiliation with them and make you into a target, rather more so than now. But, you will be with us. If you refuse these terms, however, you may return to the dungeons, for you realise of course that I cannot release you until Zara is dead."
"Well, the rat will really miss me down there," Neve smirked. "I agree to your terms. My Venatori affiliation is as good as dead already anyway. As for Zara - sorry, I can't help you. I don't actually know where she is."
Dorian laughed to that, long and heartily, as if he just heard the funniest joke of the evening.
"Who do you think I am, Neve?" He chuckled as his laughter subsided. "Try again."
"Well... it's true, I don't know where she currently resides," Neve shuffled her feet. "But I suppose... there are details I can impart upon you... and can find out more, I'm sure... oh very well..."
She came to the table, laying out some notes, marking some spots on maps, producing newspaper cuttings... she had quite a collection of things she apparently didn't know about. With the help of the others from the group, the missing pieces could be found, the picture would clear, and Zara would be within reach.
"One last thing, Neve," Dorian looked straight at her. "Wherever you go, Davrin goes with you. You asked for protection, and he is it."
"Protection and supervision in one," Neve smirked. "Well, Davrin, it looks like we are going to get acquainted..."
"Spite took a hit," Anders declared by way of explanation when he and Lucanis entered the Pavus Manor in Minrathous, with Lucanis barely able to walk. "Emmrich, can you discern how bad it is?"
"The spirit possessing Lucanis had been injured? Directly?" Emmrich looked up. "In Mundus? Remarkable!"
"And very bad for Lucanis and the spirit both," Anders nodded. "They had an enchanted red lyrium artefact... I cannot sense Spite at all."
"Yes, yes, of course, that would be most detrimental..." Emmrich scrambled to get his staff. "We need room for this... Come and sit here," he put a chair in the middle of the salon gesturing Lucanis towards it. "It may hurt a little..."
"Hurt?" Lucanis looked around, but everyone else was nonplussed and Emmrich was already absorbed in his ritual. "Just what is he going to do to me?!" He stared at Anders.
"Not to worry, just a simple spirit probe, from what I can tell..." Anders tried to reassure him watching Emmrich's incantation. "But yeah, it can be slightly..."
"Ouch!" Lucanis jumped up, that was hurting clearly more than a little.
"No, no, stay seated..." Anders pushed him back into the chair, gently but firmly grabbing his shoulder. "It's worse for Spite, trust me..."
"If you had told me upfront..!" Lucanis' face was contorted with pain.
"That's why I didn't," Anders tried to speak soothingly, but held Lucanis firmly in his chair. "We have to know where we stand, and this is the best approach."
"So there are other ways to get to the bottom of it without putting me through this torture?!" Lucanis would be getting angry if he wasn't hurting so much.
"Yes, but none as effective or as accurate. It shouldn't take much longer," Anders smiled, watching Emmrich's movements.
"For an assassin, you are not very good with pain, Lucanis," Harding pointed out. "I expected you to have a higher tolerance to it."
"For an assassin!" Lucanis laughed. "I am the one hurting people, remember? Not the other way around! And I don't torture them first! It's all over quickly for them! Not like this!!"
"Alright, it's finished," Emmrich put away his staff. "The pain should subside eventually..."
"Eventually! Sadists is what you mages are!!" Lucanis was properly angry now. "That's why I hate working with mages!"
"It's bad," Emmrich gave Anders a look of significance. "We should confer..."
"Hey!!! Merda!! I'm still here!!!" Lucanis jumped up, now that Anders was no longer holding him down.
"I am sorry for the trickery, my friend," Anders faced him. "But we had to know. You need to rest now, eat, sleep, lie down anyway... I shall join you shortly, I am not letting you out of my sight... I'm sure Dorian won't mind me no longer sharing his bedroom."
"Lucanis - you can have the large bedroom to the right," Dorian came to the middle of the room to play the host. "Emmrich, Anders, Bellara and myself will confer in the library. Davrin, bring us Neve after a bit, she's relaxing in the dungeons, and she needs supervision... at all times, please," he looked at Davrin who nodded. "The rest of you..." he shot a glance at the butler who bowed curtly. "Refreshments will be provided. Don't leave until we return."
He made a gesture with his wrist to signal the end of instructions, and promptly Emmrich, Anders and Bellara got up to follow him, while the others looked expectantly at the butler awaiting refreshments.
"And that is why Dorian is a Magister and I ain't," Varric smirked to himself, uncorking yet another bottle of premium Tevinter whisky.
...
"Zara of the Venatori created an artefact that allows to influence and damage a spirit possessing a host, and do it here in Mundus without going into the Fade to confront the spirit there," Emmrich summarised the situation to the other mages. "Illario used this artefact to attack Spite that is possessing Lucanis. Or rather I should say - Determination, for that is the proper name of the spirit. And no, it isn't a demon."
"That is bad news for Lucanis, but which other dangers does this artefact present?" Bellara looked up. "For those of us who aren't possessed by demons, that is."
"Zara is working to create demons of her own design, either having them possess slaves or even commanding them without possession," Anders explained. "Lucanis was her experiment. It didn't quite work because Spite didn't turn into a demon and does not answer to Zara. However, he still cannot stand up to that artefact. The danger of it is that Zara is building a demon army and that she will actually be able to control it too."
"Does that artefact control Spite and thus Lucanis?" Dorian looked concerned. "Could Lucanis turn onto us? Not of his own free will, you understand, but..."
"...but if he were controlled?" Emmrich picked up his phrase. "No. From what I've seen, that experiment really failed as far as Zara is concerned - she cannot make Spite do things. She can harm him though."
"Then for Lucanis it means that his life is in grave danger," Dorian nodded. "But on a grander scale there's Zara's demon army. Zara must die, and quickly."
"I think we all agree on that," Bellara nodded. "I also think that Lucanis has to be sacrificed."
"No." Anders said with an intensity that made everyone stare.
"You are saying this because he reminds you of your experience with Justice," Bellara shook her head. "I understand. Well, I don't really, I have no idea what it's like to be possessed by a demon... err... spirit... whatever. But I understand why you are so emphatic. But the truth is that Lucanis is a danger to others."
"No." Anders repeated. He was tense, his face was white, he was almost shaking. The reason he didn't say anything else was that he used all his willpower to control his emotions. Bellara was playing with danger.
"Sacrificing members of this group is out of the question," Dorian said with urgency, shooting sideways glances at Anders. "You really don't know what you are talking about, Bellara."
"I think we are digressing," Emmrich also sounded concerned. "The moment we even start discussing sacrificing members of the group for the good of the others, we spell out the death of the group. Can't you see that, Bellara?" He looked at her with that sad and disappointed expression that professors bestow on their favourite students when they commit unforgivable mistakes. "A group where people are anxious to be sacrificed for the good of the cause cannot function!"
"Well... if you put it this way..." Bellara shrugged. "Oh very well. He'll die all by himself soon enough."
"Ah... And that is the first topic on the agenda of this conference," Emmrich cleared his throat. "The second topic is how to kill Zara. But let us first focus on how to save Lucanis."
"What is Spite's condition?" Anders finally managed to speak. "You said it was bad."
"It is," Emmrich nodded. "You know how you can fight a spirit in the Fade and kill it... well, they've done the same thing, but without going into the Fade. Determination is almost dead."
"Almost?" Dorian gave him a long look. "But not completely because he is possessing Lucanis, yes?"
"Yes," Emmrich nodded. "Determination is alive because Lucanis' spirit - his soul - keeps it alive. But this is destroying the soul. Slowly, but certainly. Conversely, Determination has done the same for Lucanis in the past - when Lucanis was almost dead, Determination gave of itself to keep him alive. This is why I am certain it isn't a demon."
"It is a symbiosis then," Bellara spoke again and everyone glared, even though what she said was true. They just didn't trust her to speak.
"The ritual that Zara used to implant Determination into Lucanis, effectively fused them together," Emmrich nodded. "I could see no way to separate them without removing a significant part of each of them in the process. This would either kill them or damage them beyond recognition."
"Such as turning Determination into an actual demon or removing humanity from Lucanis," Anders nodded. "Justice told me about such things."
"Indeed," Emmrich inclined his head. "But even with you, Anders..." He paused, as if contemplating whether he should say what he was going to say. "Justice was never merged with your soul... Yet even after he cut the connection and left, he isn't entirely gone. You have been changed forever."
"I should have been dead," Anders nodded. "It took... well... someone else had to step in and give me something of himself to repair the damage, to plug that hole..."
"But I am not suggesting separating Spite and Lucanis," Emmrich tried to gently steer the conversation in the right direction. "What I meant rather was that Justice still influences the way you think even though he is long gone. And the same is true for Lucanis - Determination makes him more focused, but on the other hand, his life experiences make Determination look for options instead of always taking the shortest route."
"Where are you going with this?" Dorian squinted.
"I think the way for Lucanis to survive is to embrace Determination. To help him. To willingly support him. That will heal the spirit, Spite will be back and will stop leeching life energy from Lucanis' soul."
Emmrich finished speaking and looked at everyone in turn. Bellara shook her head in disbelief but didn't say anything. Anders was looking into the distance as if consulting with someone unseen. Dorian was rubbing his chin, but after a while his expression cleared and he nodded.
"The only question is, whether Lucanis will want to do it," he said. "He wants to be rid of Spite at present."
"It's up to you, Anders," Emmrich spoke softly. "You have gone through the same with Justice. You have to guide Lucanis on this journey. You have to convince him to accept it."
"Or else he'll die," Anders nodded.
"I think everyone is already fully convinced that I am still exclusively gay," Dorian smiled. "You no longer need to sleep in my bedroom." Anders and Emmrich smiled to that while Bellara looked completely bewildered, and everyone laughed at the way she looked. A little light-hearted intermezzo was very welcome.
"Very well, now for the second topic on our agenda - how to kill Zara," Emmrich cleared his throat again. "Or rather, how to find her. The killing part is obvious. Not easy, but obvious."
"Yeah, cutting off her head would do the trick," Anders laughed, remembering Alistair's favourite method.
"What about Neve - can she lead us to Zara? Can we trust Neve?" Emmrich looked at Dorian.
"Neve is now persona non grata with the Venatori," Dorian looked up. "Some sources I spoke to, say the Venatori want her dead. Other sources say she isn't important enough - yet. The Crows have been spotted delivering a letter to her - with a brick through the window. She isn't saying, but we must assume it was a threat to become hunted by the Crows unless she does something for Zara... It's pretty clear-cut as it goes."
"The Crows... no, wait. Lucanis is from the Crows," Bellara shuddered. "With all that Spite business I completely forgot... but Lucanis is a Crow!" She beamed at everyone. "So he would know about this, right?"
"Well..." Dorian chuckled. "The Crows have factions. Lucanis asked around - this isn't official business, this is somebody going rogue, but somebody high up. His cousin perhaps. Either way, Lucanis would not know."
"So, Neve," Emmrich picked up the thread of the conversation. "Can we use her and is she to be trusted?"
"I think so," Dorian nodded. "Let's call for Davrin."
He pressed a button that no one realised was there, and a servant appeared, nodded and left, all within a few seconds. Shortly afterwards Davrin entered with Neve.
"I have considered your request, Neve," Dorian spoke quite formally. "You may stay in this house and under my protection if you disclose your connections to the Venatori - and not just to me, but to the Shadow Dragons, that is, to the Viper. You will then help us find and kill Zara. You must realise that this will completely ruin your affiliation with them and make you into a target, rather more so than now. But, you will be with us. If you refuse these terms, however, you may return to the dungeons, for you realise of course that I cannot release you until Zara is dead."
"Well, the rat will really miss me down there," Neve smirked. "I agree to your terms. My Venatori affiliation is as good as dead already anyway. As for Zara - sorry, I can't help you. I don't actually know where she is."
Dorian laughed to that, long and heartily, as if he just heard the funniest joke of the evening.
"Who do you think I am, Neve?" He chuckled as his laughter subsided. "Try again."
"Well... it's true, I don't know where she currently resides," Neve shuffled her feet. "But I suppose... there are details I can impart upon you... and can find out more, I'm sure... oh very well..."
She came to the table, laying out some notes, marking some spots on maps, producing newspaper cuttings... she had quite a collection of things she apparently didn't know about. With the help of the others from the group, the missing pieces could be found, the picture would clear, and Zara would be within reach.
"One last thing, Neve," Dorian looked straight at her. "Wherever you go, Davrin goes with you. You asked for protection, and he is it."
"Protection and supervision in one," Neve smirked. "Well, Davrin, it looks like we are going to get acquainted..."
Evening Star, 3E410 - A sunset over Minrathous
When Anders entered Lucanis' room, he found him sitting on the balcony watching the sun set on Minrathous, a glass of whisky in his hand. He did not turn to look at Anders, he just kept watching the streets below. A second chair was set out by the table, and Anders took it. He poured himself a glass of whisky and sat watching the streets too.
"You must promise me never to do it again," Lucanis said after a short pause, still not looking at Anders.
"I promise," Anders replied without turning.
"What do you promise?"
"To never put you through a procedure without explaining what it would entail," Anders said softly. "To never trick you again."
"To never decide for me."
"Promise."
"Healers, mages, Grey Wardens - they all think to know what's best for the rest of us. That's why our books are full of contracts on their lives. And you are the worst kind - you are all of it at once." Lucanis took another sip of his whisky, rolling the liqueur in his mouth. Anders did not speak, and after a pause Lucanis continued. "The reason that no more Crows come after you, is that I took that contract. But I am a professional - if I decide to act upon it, I shall not fail on purpose. Zevran failed to kill his Grey Warden because he did not take the time to study his target. It wasn't just your run of the mill Grey Warden, and that's where Zevran went wrong. You are no ordinary Grey Warden either. You are in no danger from me yet, or we would not be having this talk." Lucanis made another pause, still watching the streets below and not looking at Anders, at least not directly. Anders kept silent. "A contract can only be annulled if the contract giver is dead. The contract giver is Zara, I think that was clear. When Zara is killed, you will no longer be a target for the Crows."
Lucanis stopped speaking, and they sat in silence for a time, sipping their whisky and watching the sunset. Then Anders spoke.
"If you are to survive, you have to bond with Spite. You have to accept him. You are bonded now, of course, through Zara's ritual, but Illario's spell all but killed Spite. He is alive because your soul sustains him. You are bonded in such a way that killing Spite in the Fade would kill a large part of your own soul as well. You will no longer be yourself, and I am not even certain you would survive without Spite at all. This was what Emmerich's probe showed."
"I have the right to choose to die," Lucanis replied. "If I choose to die because I do not wish to live as an abomination, you cannot stop me."
"I promise not to."
"Ah, good," Lucanis smiled. "I know of course that you can stop me. Now we understand each other."
"Spite kept you alive after the fight with the dragon," Anders said in a barely audible whisper. "He chose to do it."
"He isn't a demon, I get it," Lucanis nodded. "I killed enough blood mages to know what I am dealing with. I study my targets first, always."
"Do you want me to leave?" Anders looked at Lucanis, for the first time during that conversation.
"No, not tonight," Lucanis met his gaze. "How will I study you if you are not with me?"
When Anders entered Lucanis' room, he found him sitting on the balcony watching the sun set on Minrathous, a glass of whisky in his hand. He did not turn to look at Anders, he just kept watching the streets below. A second chair was set out by the table, and Anders took it. He poured himself a glass of whisky and sat watching the streets too.
"You must promise me never to do it again," Lucanis said after a short pause, still not looking at Anders.
"I promise," Anders replied without turning.
"What do you promise?"
"To never put you through a procedure without explaining what it would entail," Anders said softly. "To never trick you again."
"To never decide for me."
"Promise."
"Healers, mages, Grey Wardens - they all think to know what's best for the rest of us. That's why our books are full of contracts on their lives. And you are the worst kind - you are all of it at once." Lucanis took another sip of his whisky, rolling the liqueur in his mouth. Anders did not speak, and after a pause Lucanis continued. "The reason that no more Crows come after you, is that I took that contract. But I am a professional - if I decide to act upon it, I shall not fail on purpose. Zevran failed to kill his Grey Warden because he did not take the time to study his target. It wasn't just your run of the mill Grey Warden, and that's where Zevran went wrong. You are no ordinary Grey Warden either. You are in no danger from me yet, or we would not be having this talk." Lucanis made another pause, still watching the streets below and not looking at Anders, at least not directly. Anders kept silent. "A contract can only be annulled if the contract giver is dead. The contract giver is Zara, I think that was clear. When Zara is killed, you will no longer be a target for the Crows."
Lucanis stopped speaking, and they sat in silence for a time, sipping their whisky and watching the sunset. Then Anders spoke.
"If you are to survive, you have to bond with Spite. You have to accept him. You are bonded now, of course, through Zara's ritual, but Illario's spell all but killed Spite. He is alive because your soul sustains him. You are bonded in such a way that killing Spite in the Fade would kill a large part of your own soul as well. You will no longer be yourself, and I am not even certain you would survive without Spite at all. This was what Emmerich's probe showed."
"I have the right to choose to die," Lucanis replied. "If I choose to die because I do not wish to live as an abomination, you cannot stop me."
"I promise not to."
"Ah, good," Lucanis smiled. "I know of course that you can stop me. Now we understand each other."
"Spite kept you alive after the fight with the dragon," Anders said in a barely audible whisper. "He chose to do it."
"He isn't a demon, I get it," Lucanis nodded. "I killed enough blood mages to know what I am dealing with. I study my targets first, always."
"Do you want me to leave?" Anders looked at Lucanis, for the first time during that conversation.
"No, not tonight," Lucanis met his gaze. "How will I study you if you are not with me?"
Evening Star, 3E410 - Double jeopardy
"Minrathous is moving into the evening," Anders remarked looking at the streets below their balcony. "What say you if we go out for some entertainment? Just the two of us."
"You want to bait the Venatori with a double bait," Lucanis smirked. "Alright, I'm game. But not without equipment."
When Lucanis was satisfied with the selection of daggers and throwing knives on his person and Anders had discretely stuffed his own dagger and Arcane Sphere into the folds of his robe, they left the Pavus Manor and looked around.
"Anywhere in particular?" Lucanis saw several bars dotted around these upper class streets.
"The Gay Vint, I think," Anders pointed it out.
"Shouldn't you have Dorian with you for that rather than me?" Lucanis grinned.
"That was the only place where we got information last time around," Anders shook his head. "It's more about the prestige and the stature than about love preferences. It's also about having pockets full of coin - the place is outright expensive." He checked his coin purse to make sure they could actually afford The Gay Vint. "But yes, it does give you a certain connotation... or would you rather not?"
"You do like to walk close to the edge," Lucanis smirked. "I don't care. Let them talk. There's talk already, seeing how I never married."
"You kissed me. Repeatedly." Anders turned to face Lucanis. "What did you mean?"
"Your blood is sweet," Lucanis smiled. "I don't drink it but I can smell it. Your magic tickles. Yours is a life I would not wish to take, and yet it belongs to me - I have the contract."
"Is that it - I am just a target to you?" Anders' voice fell.
"There's no such a thing as 'just' a target, not for me," Lucanis shook his head. "Not for a long time already. I don't get routine jobs, you know. Every one of my targets is someone special. Besides, I have not yet accepted the validity of the contract on your life. It was issued to a rogue group, that is true - a group that no longer exists, I might add. By all laws and rules, I inherit the contract. But you are right, there's more."
"So, you choose not to answer my question," Anders inclined his head. "Very well. Come - The Gay Vint awaits."
When they entered The Gay Vint, the atmosphere inside was already dim with cigar smoke and foggy with the fumes of the waterpipes. The barman nodded to Anders recognising him from his previous visit, and Anders nodded back, indicating that they would have the same as last time - the best whisky in the house. "Wanted" posters with his likeness had disappeared from the walls, he noticed - undoubtedly Dorian's influence. The band was playing some undefined tune giving the place an eerie feel of neither here nor there. There were a lot of customers - nearly every table was taken. Lucanis pointed out one against the side wall, out of the way yet in full view of the rest of the room, and it was free.
"Ideal," he nodded to Anders.
They sat down and started watching the room. No one turned to look at them, yet they felt eyes from every direction.
"That mage in a blue robe over there," Lucanis discretely pointed across the room. "The one talking to a lady in pale pink... he's been staring at you ever since we entered."
"Yes, I noticed," Anders nodded. "But I've never seen him before."
"Well, he's seen you before," Lucanis smirked. "Or at least he knows who you are."
The band started playing an actual song and some people took to the dance floor, closing the view of the mage in a blue robe. The waiters navigated between the dancers delivering another round of drinks. When the song finished and everyone returned to their tables, neither the mage in blue nor his lady companion were there.
"Next time the band is playing a song, we should dance," Lucanis said quietly. "We now lost our quarry."
"I don't know if they were our quarry," Anders shrugged. "But sure. Moving about without attracting attention may be a good idea." He waved his hand calling for a waterpipe. "We can't just sit here openly watching the room," he smiled.
"I don't see how having a cloud of fog right in front of us is going to be helpful," Lucanis scowled. "What's in the pipe?"
"Tobacco, I suppose," Anders took a puff. "With spice."
"Don't get your head muddled up with that spice," Lucanis took over and had a puff too. "Well, it's mild, at least. And look over there - someone else is watching you. A flamboyant fellow, if I ever saw one..."
"Oh, I know that one," Anders laughed, waving to him. "Damien, one of Dorian's friends. He's the one we talked to last time."
He didn't have time for further explanations as Damien approached their table.
"Nice to see you again, Anders," Damien greeted him, pulling up a chair. "And - Lucanis, I presume? The Demon of Vyrantium himself, here at The Gay Vint? Nothing to worry about, I hope?"
"Lucanis Dellamorte of the Antivan Crows, at your service," Lucanis bowed slightly. "Not on business today, so nothing to worry about."
"A lot of people here are not so sure," Damien drew his eyes over the crowd. "Seeing the two of you together, here on a hunt... because of course this is no social visit." He leaned back in his chair, sipping his whisky.
"I noticed a few glances, yes," Anders smiled. "But then there was a dance and the people in question left by the time it ended."
"Because they noticed you notice," Damien nodded. "You need to be a lot more overt if you want to stir anything up. Because that's what you're here for... a double bait. But no one wants to put themselves in such a double jeopardy, against a blood mage and an assassin of blood mages... it must be terrifying to face the two of you in battle."
"You don't seem terrified," Lucanis smiled, scanning the scene. "Quite a lot of people are watching, to be sure."
"I am not your target," Damien shrugged. "I am also Dorian's friend. Well, close enough," he smirked. "So as a friend... Anders, will you dance with me?" He got up, offering Anders a hand, just as the band started playing another song.
"I'd be delighted," Anders joined him, throwing a glance back at Lucanis who nodded. The song was a mellow one, the dance not too fast and not too close, and the dance floor quickly filled up.
Lucanis watched the crowd at first, but not seeing anything of interest, he shifted his gaze to Anders and Damien who kept to the edge, clearly trying to stay in view and not be lost among the other dancers. They performed a formal routine... well-known steps of "middle class" dance, one meant for people who didn't really know each other. Lucanis wondered who ordered that particular tune... it could have been Damien. Perhaps a change of pace was due. He signaled a waiter, then whispered a few words, the waiter nodded and smiled, and walked over to the band. A few minutes later the previous song ended and the tune blended into a different one, with a piano and a guitar intermezzo announcing the transition. The dance floor changed, some people left, other people joined it, but Anders and Damien stayed, their dance steps adapting slightly to the new tune, but generally remaining the same.
Quem dorme à noite comigo?
É meu segredo!
Mas se insistirem, lhes digo.
The singer's sensual voice sounded secretive and urgent. "Medo," Lucanis thought, picking up the Tevinter lyrics. "She carries it well." He got up and went to the dance floor.
"Allow me this dance," he approached Anders, and Damien bowed out. "I hope you know the steps."
"We'll make them up as we go," Anders smiled. This was a Tevinter tango, not the usual Antivan variety and not sung in Antivan. The guitar was competing with the piano, this was a song of longing for something that never was, and the singer's voice carried the mood, both languid and hoarse at once.
"This is a close dance," Lucanis pulled Anders in the grip of a tango. "We dance like we dance it in Antiva," he led Anders' leg with his, their hips locked. "The same close steps."
O medo mora comigo,
Mas só o medo!
The singer wasn't rushing the song, leaving plenty of time between verses for the guitar and the piano, and thus, when she did sing, her voice became the focus of the tune, an arbiter or a reminder.
E cedo, porque me embala
Num vaivém de solidão,
É com silêncio que fala...
"E cedo," Anders repeated, but took the lead instead. "But we are in Tevinter, we do not dance like in Antiva." With their hips still locked, he now led Lucanis, sliding his leg up and down and moving the lock to the chest, releasing the hips.
There were no particular steps to the Tevinter tango, apart from the basic rhythm. It was a dance of the moment, invented by the dancers for that one time. Lucanis smiled - he always preferred that freedom to the more restrictive ways of the Antivan tango.
"No need to rub your leg against my groin, you know I've got the coin to pay you," he grinned, noticing the change in step.
Gritar? Quem pode salvar-me
Do que está dentro de mim?
People on the dance floor weren't paying attention to other couples, each focusing on their own dance, their own story. People who remained at their tables were watching the dance floor... Were they watching anyone in particular? Some might have been... Which story was being told? Anders felt eyes upon them, and that was what they were there for, that was why they were doing that dance... that was the plan, at least... but as Lucanis pulled him in an embrace and their lips met in a kiss, he forgot about the plan long enough to just hear the singer... Quem pode salvar-me do que está dentro de mim? And when the kiss ran out and the legs carried on making more steps, the lock moved to the eyes, releasing the body to move at will. Anders fell back and Lucanis caught him, twirling out of the way of another kiss, then falling back into a hip lock. The guitar and the piano were having a lengthy discourse, and the dancers had all the time to unfold their stories.
"Next time you sleep in my bed, you sleep with me," Lucanis whispered in Anders' ear. "No more holding back."
"I won't if you don't," Anders smiled. "Just how far do you want to go?"
Gostava até de matar-me.
The singer brought another verse like a cry of desperation and deliverance at once, she really did carry the song.
"How far will you take me?" Lucanis twisted away like he would in a fight, avoiding his opponent's sword, then fell onto Anders, pushing him low, almost to the floor, then catching him at the last moment and pulling him up again, his hand level with Anders' heart...
"Over the bridge," Anders laughed, sliding Lucanis' arms up to wrap around his neck, then taking him into a tango grip with his hands just below the waist. "If you let me..."
Mas eu sei que ele há-de esperar-me
Ao pé da ponte do fim.
The singer's voice trailed off, the guitar and the piano taking over completely, pushing the words away, rewriting the memory for those who dared.
...
"From the gentleman in green at the back table," the waiter put a note on their table, once they were seated again, the dance over. Anders picked up the note and looked in the direction the waiter had indicated - a richly dressed mage in a green robe was smiling at him and nodded seeing the note.
"Meet me behind The Swan in half an hour or so," he read the note to Lucanis. "Bring your friend. It is always better with a threesome."
"We got what we wanted," Lucanis smirked, nodding to the mage. "But I doubt it's about love."
"How far will this go, I wonder?" Anders mused, taking a large gulp of his whisky. "We should be ready."
"We are," Lucanis felt the knives and daggers tucked about his person. "As ready as we can be. Remember our date - I want to see that bridge, with you still among the living."
"And you," Anders gave him a look. "This is every bit about eliminating you as well as me. A true double jeopardy."
...
The alley behind The Swan was of course a trap, but not an overt one. The alley itself was empty, the mage in green was waiting there when Anders and Lucanis approached.
"Please follow me into the house," the mage said politely. "We shouldn't be conducting business in a back alley like some ruffians," he smirked. "We are nothing of the sort."
He turned and walked into the darkness, and Anders and Lucanis followed. The alley gave to a sturdy door, almost imperceptible against the back wall; the door opened to a warm, rich interior, no place for ruffians indeed. They stepped in, the door closed behind them and a mechanism was heard bolting it tight. The trap was sprung.
The mage in green turned around and picked up a staff, two more mages stepped out of the door openings, and several brutes armed with hand scythes stepped out before them, with more brutes undoubtedly waiting behind. Anders took out his arcane sphere, there was no room for a staff anyway. The sphere delivered different spells, but at close range it was a better weapon. Lucanis pulled out two short swords. The game was on.
...
"Why hand scythes?" Lucanis stood over a heap of corpses a few minutes later. "It doesn't seem to be a very effective weapon..."
"These were blood mages," Anders went through the pockets of the three mages, then proceeded testing out their staves. "The scythes were not meant to kill but to wound - to let the blood flow. These brutes were slaves no doubt, they never stood a chance... they weren't meant to stand a chance. They were primed as donors for blood magic already," Anders pointed at some tell-tale scars and tattoos. "Anyway, this was peanuts. I'll take one of their staves, they are not bad. We should proceed inside... I assume you agree?" He looked at Lucanis.
"Of course," he nodded, his face set. "I have the feeling this is Zara's abode..."
The underground complex was quite extensive and going through it was very much like going through Lucanis' villa room by room. Anders made it a point to pick up any potions along the way and to stop and heal every wound before continuing. Lucanis was again getting impatient.
"Let's just get on with it already!" He exclaimed angrily several times.
"No and no!" Anders insisted. "That's exactly what they want! That's why all the hand scythes! They cannot use our blood for magic just now, but they aim to weaken us all the same! Now hold still!!"
Lucanis could not pretend not to see the truth in that reasoning, and so he sighed and held still while Anders was healing every little flesh wound every time.
Eventually they entered a room with a pool.
"Not another pool of blood?!" Lucanis exclaimed in disgust when he saw what was in it.
"How rude of you to interrupt a lady while she's bathing!" A shrill female voice came from further in. "Illario didn't have the guts to kill you, I see," she smirked. "But I have no such problem! Your blood will add to the pool!"
"Zara..!" Lucanis turned to the voice and saw a woman in a red bathing suit rise from the pool... then he looked closer... that was no bathing suit... the blood from the pool was clinging to her skin.
This was no ordinary fight. The pool wasn't deep but the blood in it was far less diluted than at the villa in Treviso, and the woman was using it to replenish her magicka and to heal her wounds. She did not need to have a bleeding slave to perform a blood magic ritual - she had all the blood she wanted right there at her fingertips, and she used it for every spell she knew, nearly exploding the room itself in a blast of lightening.
"Came to play magic with me, Anders?" She cried out and laughed. "By all means! Help yourself to the blood, too! Let's have a party!"
"A party that would have us killed," Anders muttered in derision. "No, I had another strategy in mind..."
Rather than fight Zara head on, Anders decided to try and disrupt her healing and perhaps her ability to use the blood in the pool for her ends. A blood mage that was bleeding, could not heal effectively, that was the drawback of blood magic that won them many battles; but Zara seemed to have overcome that problem with her pool. Lucanis wounded her repeatedly, yet she didn't seem to weaken, and the blood clinging to her skin seemed to close any wounds and prevent bleeding out. How was that achieved? What controlled the blood? Anders wondered while focusing on healing Lucanis and avoiding being hit by Zara's lightening. If he was going to strike, it had to count, otherwise he'd just waste his magicka and break their defence.
And then he saw it: a thin layer of red mist was rising from the blood. At first he thought it was simple fog, but then he noticed three red lyrium crystals installed at the edges of the pool. The mist was magical, maintained by those crystals. He shot a bolt of lightning at one, but the crystal did not shatter - something else was protecting it in turn.
"You think Neve Gallus works for you," Zara sneered, watching his experiment. "She may do, but she is rather a toothless dragon now. She'd been with the Venatori for much longer than she'd been with her new friends, the Shadow Dragons. Neve is an expert in runes like these. Did she not tell you how to disarm them?" She laughed derisively, hitting Lucanis with another lightning bolt. "I'll kill your friend first, then you're next, Anders. You have until he's dead."
"Get the runes!" Lucanis shouted, launching another attack on Zara. "We cannot win while she's healing!"
"As you say..!" Zara laughed, leaving herself completely exposed to Lucanis' sword, receiving a deep wound that should have killed her, then instantly healing with the blood from the pool. "I do rather enjoy this dance!"
Anders climbed out of the pool and approached one of the crystals. Not wishing to waste his magicka, he hit it with his dagger to see what happened. The crystal emitted a soft, high pitched tone, vibrating for a few seconds, the stabilised and became still again. Anders hit it harder, and a fracture appeared, but similarly to Zara, the crystal healed itself. "What is the source of that power?" Anders wondered, looking around. A very faint red beam of light was streaming into the crystal from further in the room. It was very hard to see, but Anders followed it to the wall. A rune was drawn on it, with another red lyrium crystal in its centre. His first impulse was to hit the crystal with his dagger again to test the response, but something stopped him. What if the rune around the crystal was a protective shield? Or a mine perhaps? With the power of red lyrium, it could even knock him out. But how to know what it was? "Neve is an ice mage," Anders recalled. "If she sat up these runes... chances are, they are frost based. Let's try fire." He took a few steps back and shot a mild fireball at the rune. The frost enchantment came to life and all but evaporated it, but a small burn was seen, and would not recover. "So, fire." His next fireball was larger, causing a sizable explosion just above the rune, and the shock wave knocked him back. The rune wasn't giving up easily. Yet another part of it was burned out. "I don't have the time to go slow," Anders shook his head, watching Lucanis dance around Zara, looking pale. Yet getting knocked out by a rune would be counter-productive. He took a few more steps back, up to a column by the pool. "Let's hope this masonry holds," he sighed. His next fireball was massive. He expected a shock wave back and hid behind the column, hugging it tightly. The stone shook but held. The crystal in the centre of the rune shuttered in the blast. The thin beam of light vanished - the first crystal was now unprotected. Not leaving his post, Anders shot a lighting bolt at it, and it shuttered too.
"What?! You naughty boy!!!" Zara yelled, as the explosions reverberated in the room. "You broke one of my crystals!" She shrieked and laughed. "For all the good that it'll do you! Lucanis is all but dead!"
"Not dead yet!" Lucanis called out. "Keep going!"
"Not dead yet, but sounding weak," Anders noted with worry.
He tried to be as quick as he could. Tracking the beam of light from another crystal, locating another rune, finding cover and shooting a massive fireball... two massive fireballs, as it happened, then a lightning bolt at the crystal by the pool. It took a lot of magicka... he didn't have any left.
"You'll be drained of magicka by now, my boy!" Zara shrieked again. "These red lyrium crystals pack a lot of power, and Neve did a good job on her frost runes! Oh yes, she set them up, you figured it out. Well, why don't you use the blood in the pool to power your next fireball?"
"Don't listen to her!!" Lucanis cried from a far corner. "This isn't regular blood! Use your own!"
"Enchanted, perhaps," Anders nodded to himself, running to the final crystal to start the next cycle of tracking and blasting. "One more crystal. Let's hope I won't have to fight after that... this will take a lot of blood." The red lyrium crystal in the centre of the rune was enormous. How many fireballs would it take to burn through? He slit his wrist and started casting. "Four... five!" A massive explosion shook the room and several columns shattered, including the one Anders was using for cover. He was thrown to the floor, he nearly fell into the pool. A thin layer of red mist was still hanging over the surface of the blood-tainted water. The final crystal. Anders sat up and shot a lightning bolt. The crystal vibrated but held. "Self-powering," Anders reflected. "It had to be. The final rune. Well... I still have some blood..." He gathered all of his magicka, made a fresh cut and summoned a thunderstorm. A giant lightning bolt shot at the crystal from above, splitting it in two, then shattering the pieces. The noise was deafening. Several more columns collapsed, and it looked like the ceiling might cave in as well, but it held. The mist over the red water of the pool vanished. The enchantment was broken.
"Oiiii!!!!" Zara's shriek ripped through the thunder. She jumped out of the pool, as the water was of no further use. She was running towards Anders, completely ignoring Lucanis for the moment. He took off after her, but he was a distance behind her, with rubble blocking his way. "You die now, Anders!!!" Zara was upon him, shooting lightning as she ran, but her aim was poor and Anders managed to roll away from the bolts, too weak to stand. He was taking cover behind a piece of a column, his dagger at the ready - he had no more magicka for a spell of his own, but he was rather good with a blade...
Zara leapt, lightning streaming from her fingers, a dagger of her own poised to strike. "You die!!!" She cried one more time.
"No, you die!!!" A hoarse, hissing voice came out of nowhere, Lucanis diving from above... his spirit wings having carried him high. "You die now, Zara!!" His dagger found her heart, he did not miss.
For a moment everything was still. Zara lay on the floor and did not move, the wound in her chest was bleeding out and did not close. Anders sat up. Lucanis unsheathed his sword and cut off Zara's head.
"I don't normally take souvenirs, but this time I'll make an exception," he said, holding up the head and letting it bleed out. "Zara is no more." His spirit wings were still spread at his back. "Contract complete," Spite's hissing voice confirmed. "Partner."
...
"Zara is done," Lucanis planted Zara's head on the table in the salon of the Pavus Manor. "Neve is next."
"Neve?" Dorian looked up. "She was there?"
"She wasn't but the runes were hers," Lucanis shrugged. "Her life belongs to me, I have a contract," he smiled thinly. "Issued by Zara here. And it is up to me what to do..." His smile grew cold. "You tell her that."
"Neve is not to be trusted," Anders stepped forward, pale as a sheet. "We'll talk later, this will wait, won't it, Lucanis?" He shot him a glance and Lucanis nodded. "You and I have a date to keep."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Music by Amália Rodrigues, listen here, the second version with the guitar and piano discourse.
"Minrathous is moving into the evening," Anders remarked looking at the streets below their balcony. "What say you if we go out for some entertainment? Just the two of us."
"You want to bait the Venatori with a double bait," Lucanis smirked. "Alright, I'm game. But not without equipment."
When Lucanis was satisfied with the selection of daggers and throwing knives on his person and Anders had discretely stuffed his own dagger and Arcane Sphere into the folds of his robe, they left the Pavus Manor and looked around.
"Anywhere in particular?" Lucanis saw several bars dotted around these upper class streets.
"The Gay Vint, I think," Anders pointed it out.
"Shouldn't you have Dorian with you for that rather than me?" Lucanis grinned.
"That was the only place where we got information last time around," Anders shook his head. "It's more about the prestige and the stature than about love preferences. It's also about having pockets full of coin - the place is outright expensive." He checked his coin purse to make sure they could actually afford The Gay Vint. "But yes, it does give you a certain connotation... or would you rather not?"
"You do like to walk close to the edge," Lucanis smirked. "I don't care. Let them talk. There's talk already, seeing how I never married."
"You kissed me. Repeatedly." Anders turned to face Lucanis. "What did you mean?"
"Your blood is sweet," Lucanis smiled. "I don't drink it but I can smell it. Your magic tickles. Yours is a life I would not wish to take, and yet it belongs to me - I have the contract."
"Is that it - I am just a target to you?" Anders' voice fell.
"There's no such a thing as 'just' a target, not for me," Lucanis shook his head. "Not for a long time already. I don't get routine jobs, you know. Every one of my targets is someone special. Besides, I have not yet accepted the validity of the contract on your life. It was issued to a rogue group, that is true - a group that no longer exists, I might add. By all laws and rules, I inherit the contract. But you are right, there's more."
"So, you choose not to answer my question," Anders inclined his head. "Very well. Come - The Gay Vint awaits."
When they entered The Gay Vint, the atmosphere inside was already dim with cigar smoke and foggy with the fumes of the waterpipes. The barman nodded to Anders recognising him from his previous visit, and Anders nodded back, indicating that they would have the same as last time - the best whisky in the house. "Wanted" posters with his likeness had disappeared from the walls, he noticed - undoubtedly Dorian's influence. The band was playing some undefined tune giving the place an eerie feel of neither here nor there. There were a lot of customers - nearly every table was taken. Lucanis pointed out one against the side wall, out of the way yet in full view of the rest of the room, and it was free.
"Ideal," he nodded to Anders.
They sat down and started watching the room. No one turned to look at them, yet they felt eyes from every direction.
"That mage in a blue robe over there," Lucanis discretely pointed across the room. "The one talking to a lady in pale pink... he's been staring at you ever since we entered."
"Yes, I noticed," Anders nodded. "But I've never seen him before."
"Well, he's seen you before," Lucanis smirked. "Or at least he knows who you are."
The band started playing an actual song and some people took to the dance floor, closing the view of the mage in a blue robe. The waiters navigated between the dancers delivering another round of drinks. When the song finished and everyone returned to their tables, neither the mage in blue nor his lady companion were there.
"Next time the band is playing a song, we should dance," Lucanis said quietly. "We now lost our quarry."
"I don't know if they were our quarry," Anders shrugged. "But sure. Moving about without attracting attention may be a good idea." He waved his hand calling for a waterpipe. "We can't just sit here openly watching the room," he smiled.
"I don't see how having a cloud of fog right in front of us is going to be helpful," Lucanis scowled. "What's in the pipe?"
"Tobacco, I suppose," Anders took a puff. "With spice."
"Don't get your head muddled up with that spice," Lucanis took over and had a puff too. "Well, it's mild, at least. And look over there - someone else is watching you. A flamboyant fellow, if I ever saw one..."
"Oh, I know that one," Anders laughed, waving to him. "Damien, one of Dorian's friends. He's the one we talked to last time."
He didn't have time for further explanations as Damien approached their table.
"Nice to see you again, Anders," Damien greeted him, pulling up a chair. "And - Lucanis, I presume? The Demon of Vyrantium himself, here at The Gay Vint? Nothing to worry about, I hope?"
"Lucanis Dellamorte of the Antivan Crows, at your service," Lucanis bowed slightly. "Not on business today, so nothing to worry about."
"A lot of people here are not so sure," Damien drew his eyes over the crowd. "Seeing the two of you together, here on a hunt... because of course this is no social visit." He leaned back in his chair, sipping his whisky.
"I noticed a few glances, yes," Anders smiled. "But then there was a dance and the people in question left by the time it ended."
"Because they noticed you notice," Damien nodded. "You need to be a lot more overt if you want to stir anything up. Because that's what you're here for... a double bait. But no one wants to put themselves in such a double jeopardy, against a blood mage and an assassin of blood mages... it must be terrifying to face the two of you in battle."
"You don't seem terrified," Lucanis smiled, scanning the scene. "Quite a lot of people are watching, to be sure."
"I am not your target," Damien shrugged. "I am also Dorian's friend. Well, close enough," he smirked. "So as a friend... Anders, will you dance with me?" He got up, offering Anders a hand, just as the band started playing another song.
"I'd be delighted," Anders joined him, throwing a glance back at Lucanis who nodded. The song was a mellow one, the dance not too fast and not too close, and the dance floor quickly filled up.
Lucanis watched the crowd at first, but not seeing anything of interest, he shifted his gaze to Anders and Damien who kept to the edge, clearly trying to stay in view and not be lost among the other dancers. They performed a formal routine... well-known steps of "middle class" dance, one meant for people who didn't really know each other. Lucanis wondered who ordered that particular tune... it could have been Damien. Perhaps a change of pace was due. He signaled a waiter, then whispered a few words, the waiter nodded and smiled, and walked over to the band. A few minutes later the previous song ended and the tune blended into a different one, with a piano and a guitar intermezzo announcing the transition. The dance floor changed, some people left, other people joined it, but Anders and Damien stayed, their dance steps adapting slightly to the new tune, but generally remaining the same.
Quem dorme à noite comigo?
É meu segredo!
Mas se insistirem, lhes digo.
The singer's sensual voice sounded secretive and urgent. "Medo," Lucanis thought, picking up the Tevinter lyrics. "She carries it well." He got up and went to the dance floor.
"Allow me this dance," he approached Anders, and Damien bowed out. "I hope you know the steps."
"We'll make them up as we go," Anders smiled. This was a Tevinter tango, not the usual Antivan variety and not sung in Antivan. The guitar was competing with the piano, this was a song of longing for something that never was, and the singer's voice carried the mood, both languid and hoarse at once.
"This is a close dance," Lucanis pulled Anders in the grip of a tango. "We dance like we dance it in Antiva," he led Anders' leg with his, their hips locked. "The same close steps."
O medo mora comigo,
Mas só o medo!
The singer wasn't rushing the song, leaving plenty of time between verses for the guitar and the piano, and thus, when she did sing, her voice became the focus of the tune, an arbiter or a reminder.
E cedo, porque me embala
Num vaivém de solidão,
É com silêncio que fala...
"E cedo," Anders repeated, but took the lead instead. "But we are in Tevinter, we do not dance like in Antiva." With their hips still locked, he now led Lucanis, sliding his leg up and down and moving the lock to the chest, releasing the hips.
There were no particular steps to the Tevinter tango, apart from the basic rhythm. It was a dance of the moment, invented by the dancers for that one time. Lucanis smiled - he always preferred that freedom to the more restrictive ways of the Antivan tango.
"No need to rub your leg against my groin, you know I've got the coin to pay you," he grinned, noticing the change in step.
Gritar? Quem pode salvar-me
Do que está dentro de mim?
People on the dance floor weren't paying attention to other couples, each focusing on their own dance, their own story. People who remained at their tables were watching the dance floor... Were they watching anyone in particular? Some might have been... Which story was being told? Anders felt eyes upon them, and that was what they were there for, that was why they were doing that dance... that was the plan, at least... but as Lucanis pulled him in an embrace and their lips met in a kiss, he forgot about the plan long enough to just hear the singer... Quem pode salvar-me do que está dentro de mim? And when the kiss ran out and the legs carried on making more steps, the lock moved to the eyes, releasing the body to move at will. Anders fell back and Lucanis caught him, twirling out of the way of another kiss, then falling back into a hip lock. The guitar and the piano were having a lengthy discourse, and the dancers had all the time to unfold their stories.
"Next time you sleep in my bed, you sleep with me," Lucanis whispered in Anders' ear. "No more holding back."
"I won't if you don't," Anders smiled. "Just how far do you want to go?"
Gostava até de matar-me.
The singer brought another verse like a cry of desperation and deliverance at once, she really did carry the song.
"How far will you take me?" Lucanis twisted away like he would in a fight, avoiding his opponent's sword, then fell onto Anders, pushing him low, almost to the floor, then catching him at the last moment and pulling him up again, his hand level with Anders' heart...
"Over the bridge," Anders laughed, sliding Lucanis' arms up to wrap around his neck, then taking him into a tango grip with his hands just below the waist. "If you let me..."
Mas eu sei que ele há-de esperar-me
Ao pé da ponte do fim.
The singer's voice trailed off, the guitar and the piano taking over completely, pushing the words away, rewriting the memory for those who dared.
...
"From the gentleman in green at the back table," the waiter put a note on their table, once they were seated again, the dance over. Anders picked up the note and looked in the direction the waiter had indicated - a richly dressed mage in a green robe was smiling at him and nodded seeing the note.
"Meet me behind The Swan in half an hour or so," he read the note to Lucanis. "Bring your friend. It is always better with a threesome."
"We got what we wanted," Lucanis smirked, nodding to the mage. "But I doubt it's about love."
"How far will this go, I wonder?" Anders mused, taking a large gulp of his whisky. "We should be ready."
"We are," Lucanis felt the knives and daggers tucked about his person. "As ready as we can be. Remember our date - I want to see that bridge, with you still among the living."
"And you," Anders gave him a look. "This is every bit about eliminating you as well as me. A true double jeopardy."
...
The alley behind The Swan was of course a trap, but not an overt one. The alley itself was empty, the mage in green was waiting there when Anders and Lucanis approached.
"Please follow me into the house," the mage said politely. "We shouldn't be conducting business in a back alley like some ruffians," he smirked. "We are nothing of the sort."
He turned and walked into the darkness, and Anders and Lucanis followed. The alley gave to a sturdy door, almost imperceptible against the back wall; the door opened to a warm, rich interior, no place for ruffians indeed. They stepped in, the door closed behind them and a mechanism was heard bolting it tight. The trap was sprung.
The mage in green turned around and picked up a staff, two more mages stepped out of the door openings, and several brutes armed with hand scythes stepped out before them, with more brutes undoubtedly waiting behind. Anders took out his arcane sphere, there was no room for a staff anyway. The sphere delivered different spells, but at close range it was a better weapon. Lucanis pulled out two short swords. The game was on.
...
"Why hand scythes?" Lucanis stood over a heap of corpses a few minutes later. "It doesn't seem to be a very effective weapon..."
"These were blood mages," Anders went through the pockets of the three mages, then proceeded testing out their staves. "The scythes were not meant to kill but to wound - to let the blood flow. These brutes were slaves no doubt, they never stood a chance... they weren't meant to stand a chance. They were primed as donors for blood magic already," Anders pointed at some tell-tale scars and tattoos. "Anyway, this was peanuts. I'll take one of their staves, they are not bad. We should proceed inside... I assume you agree?" He looked at Lucanis.
"Of course," he nodded, his face set. "I have the feeling this is Zara's abode..."
The underground complex was quite extensive and going through it was very much like going through Lucanis' villa room by room. Anders made it a point to pick up any potions along the way and to stop and heal every wound before continuing. Lucanis was again getting impatient.
"Let's just get on with it already!" He exclaimed angrily several times.
"No and no!" Anders insisted. "That's exactly what they want! That's why all the hand scythes! They cannot use our blood for magic just now, but they aim to weaken us all the same! Now hold still!!"
Lucanis could not pretend not to see the truth in that reasoning, and so he sighed and held still while Anders was healing every little flesh wound every time.
Eventually they entered a room with a pool.
"Not another pool of blood?!" Lucanis exclaimed in disgust when he saw what was in it.
"How rude of you to interrupt a lady while she's bathing!" A shrill female voice came from further in. "Illario didn't have the guts to kill you, I see," she smirked. "But I have no such problem! Your blood will add to the pool!"
"Zara..!" Lucanis turned to the voice and saw a woman in a red bathing suit rise from the pool... then he looked closer... that was no bathing suit... the blood from the pool was clinging to her skin.
This was no ordinary fight. The pool wasn't deep but the blood in it was far less diluted than at the villa in Treviso, and the woman was using it to replenish her magicka and to heal her wounds. She did not need to have a bleeding slave to perform a blood magic ritual - she had all the blood she wanted right there at her fingertips, and she used it for every spell she knew, nearly exploding the room itself in a blast of lightening.
"Came to play magic with me, Anders?" She cried out and laughed. "By all means! Help yourself to the blood, too! Let's have a party!"
"A party that would have us killed," Anders muttered in derision. "No, I had another strategy in mind..."
Rather than fight Zara head on, Anders decided to try and disrupt her healing and perhaps her ability to use the blood in the pool for her ends. A blood mage that was bleeding, could not heal effectively, that was the drawback of blood magic that won them many battles; but Zara seemed to have overcome that problem with her pool. Lucanis wounded her repeatedly, yet she didn't seem to weaken, and the blood clinging to her skin seemed to close any wounds and prevent bleeding out. How was that achieved? What controlled the blood? Anders wondered while focusing on healing Lucanis and avoiding being hit by Zara's lightening. If he was going to strike, it had to count, otherwise he'd just waste his magicka and break their defence.
And then he saw it: a thin layer of red mist was rising from the blood. At first he thought it was simple fog, but then he noticed three red lyrium crystals installed at the edges of the pool. The mist was magical, maintained by those crystals. He shot a bolt of lightning at one, but the crystal did not shatter - something else was protecting it in turn.
"You think Neve Gallus works for you," Zara sneered, watching his experiment. "She may do, but she is rather a toothless dragon now. She'd been with the Venatori for much longer than she'd been with her new friends, the Shadow Dragons. Neve is an expert in runes like these. Did she not tell you how to disarm them?" She laughed derisively, hitting Lucanis with another lightning bolt. "I'll kill your friend first, then you're next, Anders. You have until he's dead."
"Get the runes!" Lucanis shouted, launching another attack on Zara. "We cannot win while she's healing!"
"As you say..!" Zara laughed, leaving herself completely exposed to Lucanis' sword, receiving a deep wound that should have killed her, then instantly healing with the blood from the pool. "I do rather enjoy this dance!"
Anders climbed out of the pool and approached one of the crystals. Not wishing to waste his magicka, he hit it with his dagger to see what happened. The crystal emitted a soft, high pitched tone, vibrating for a few seconds, the stabilised and became still again. Anders hit it harder, and a fracture appeared, but similarly to Zara, the crystal healed itself. "What is the source of that power?" Anders wondered, looking around. A very faint red beam of light was streaming into the crystal from further in the room. It was very hard to see, but Anders followed it to the wall. A rune was drawn on it, with another red lyrium crystal in its centre. His first impulse was to hit the crystal with his dagger again to test the response, but something stopped him. What if the rune around the crystal was a protective shield? Or a mine perhaps? With the power of red lyrium, it could even knock him out. But how to know what it was? "Neve is an ice mage," Anders recalled. "If she sat up these runes... chances are, they are frost based. Let's try fire." He took a few steps back and shot a mild fireball at the rune. The frost enchantment came to life and all but evaporated it, but a small burn was seen, and would not recover. "So, fire." His next fireball was larger, causing a sizable explosion just above the rune, and the shock wave knocked him back. The rune wasn't giving up easily. Yet another part of it was burned out. "I don't have the time to go slow," Anders shook his head, watching Lucanis dance around Zara, looking pale. Yet getting knocked out by a rune would be counter-productive. He took a few more steps back, up to a column by the pool. "Let's hope this masonry holds," he sighed. His next fireball was massive. He expected a shock wave back and hid behind the column, hugging it tightly. The stone shook but held. The crystal in the centre of the rune shuttered in the blast. The thin beam of light vanished - the first crystal was now unprotected. Not leaving his post, Anders shot a lighting bolt at it, and it shuttered too.
"What?! You naughty boy!!!" Zara yelled, as the explosions reverberated in the room. "You broke one of my crystals!" She shrieked and laughed. "For all the good that it'll do you! Lucanis is all but dead!"
"Not dead yet!" Lucanis called out. "Keep going!"
"Not dead yet, but sounding weak," Anders noted with worry.
He tried to be as quick as he could. Tracking the beam of light from another crystal, locating another rune, finding cover and shooting a massive fireball... two massive fireballs, as it happened, then a lightning bolt at the crystal by the pool. It took a lot of magicka... he didn't have any left.
"You'll be drained of magicka by now, my boy!" Zara shrieked again. "These red lyrium crystals pack a lot of power, and Neve did a good job on her frost runes! Oh yes, she set them up, you figured it out. Well, why don't you use the blood in the pool to power your next fireball?"
"Don't listen to her!!" Lucanis cried from a far corner. "This isn't regular blood! Use your own!"
"Enchanted, perhaps," Anders nodded to himself, running to the final crystal to start the next cycle of tracking and blasting. "One more crystal. Let's hope I won't have to fight after that... this will take a lot of blood." The red lyrium crystal in the centre of the rune was enormous. How many fireballs would it take to burn through? He slit his wrist and started casting. "Four... five!" A massive explosion shook the room and several columns shattered, including the one Anders was using for cover. He was thrown to the floor, he nearly fell into the pool. A thin layer of red mist was still hanging over the surface of the blood-tainted water. The final crystal. Anders sat up and shot a lightning bolt. The crystal vibrated but held. "Self-powering," Anders reflected. "It had to be. The final rune. Well... I still have some blood..." He gathered all of his magicka, made a fresh cut and summoned a thunderstorm. A giant lightning bolt shot at the crystal from above, splitting it in two, then shattering the pieces. The noise was deafening. Several more columns collapsed, and it looked like the ceiling might cave in as well, but it held. The mist over the red water of the pool vanished. The enchantment was broken.
"Oiiii!!!!" Zara's shriek ripped through the thunder. She jumped out of the pool, as the water was of no further use. She was running towards Anders, completely ignoring Lucanis for the moment. He took off after her, but he was a distance behind her, with rubble blocking his way. "You die now, Anders!!!" Zara was upon him, shooting lightning as she ran, but her aim was poor and Anders managed to roll away from the bolts, too weak to stand. He was taking cover behind a piece of a column, his dagger at the ready - he had no more magicka for a spell of his own, but he was rather good with a blade...
Zara leapt, lightning streaming from her fingers, a dagger of her own poised to strike. "You die!!!" She cried one more time.
"No, you die!!!" A hoarse, hissing voice came out of nowhere, Lucanis diving from above... his spirit wings having carried him high. "You die now, Zara!!" His dagger found her heart, he did not miss.
For a moment everything was still. Zara lay on the floor and did not move, the wound in her chest was bleeding out and did not close. Anders sat up. Lucanis unsheathed his sword and cut off Zara's head.
"I don't normally take souvenirs, but this time I'll make an exception," he said, holding up the head and letting it bleed out. "Zara is no more." His spirit wings were still spread at his back. "Contract complete," Spite's hissing voice confirmed. "Partner."
...
"Zara is done," Lucanis planted Zara's head on the table in the salon of the Pavus Manor. "Neve is next."
"Neve?" Dorian looked up. "She was there?"
"She wasn't but the runes were hers," Lucanis shrugged. "Her life belongs to me, I have a contract," he smiled thinly. "Issued by Zara here. And it is up to me what to do..." His smile grew cold. "You tell her that."
"Neve is not to be trusted," Anders stepped forward, pale as a sheet. "We'll talk later, this will wait, won't it, Lucanis?" He shot him a glance and Lucanis nodded. "You and I have a date to keep."
~~~~~~~~~~~
Music by Amália Rodrigues, listen here, the second version with the guitar and piano discourse.
A tango, dance magic at its finest. Thanks for including the Amália Rodrigues link.
Morning Star, 3E411 - Loose ends
"So, you can smile after all, Lucanis!" Harding exclaimed in mock surprise at breakfast.
"Of course I can smile, what are you talking about?" Lucanis scowled.
"I'm just saying..." Harding winked and giggled.
"Nice to see you putting my tutoring to good use," Dorian smiled at Anders. "If you want any more lessons..."
"Oh cut it out, will you?!" Anders glared at them, helping himself to jam.
"They won't if you two keep giving them cause," Emmrich smiled pleasantly. "In a house with this many servants any juicy stories travel fast, complete and in every detail."
"What detail?!" Lucanis exclaimed indignantly. "We aren't doing it when servants are present!"
"There are keyholes, my friend," Emmrich winked. "Augmented by vivid imagination."
"One look at you, Kadash, and I start imagining all sorts of juicy details," Taash laughed, looking at Anders. "Of course, I don't need to imagine them. Memory serves. Do let me know when you want seconds!"
"Did you sleep with everyone here?!" Lucanis glared at him.
"No, not everyone..." Anders shook his head as vigorously as he dared (just how much did he drink last night?).
"Not everyone, but not for the lack of trying," Harding smirked. "He isn't a shrinking violet, if you get my meaning!" She grinned at Lucanis.
"I think he might have noticed any shrinkage," Bellara suddenly joined in. "I know I didn't."
"Bellara???" Lucanis looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"
"What?" Anders shrugged. "We were bored..."
"You better not let him get bored," Davrin delivered his verdict, shooting a glance at Lucanis. "Grey Wardens don't have a good track record when they are bored. Have you tried his Conscription Ale yet?"
"A what???" Lucanis put down his toast and focused on coffee.
"It's a personal liqueur, every Warden has his own bottle," Davrin explained. "A blend of whatever. I hear Anders made his extra strong before coming here."
"Don't touch it if you value your liver!" Varric grimaced remembering his own experience. "How Wardens can stand such stuff, I shall never know! It's like drinking sodding flames!"
"Nothing burns like the Joining Cup!" Anders and Davrin replied in unison and laughed.
All in all, it was a beautiful morning.
...
"Do you need us any time soon, Kadash?" Taash asked Anders when breakfast was over. She had her arm around Harding who was about half of Taash's height.
"Need for what?" Anders looked puzzled. "Oh, fighting... probably not... why?"
"I want to take Harding dragon hunting," Taash grinned. "My axes and her bow... no dragon will be safe from us! Emmrich tells me there are still some good ones in Nevarra..."
"There used to be some good ones in Nevarra until they were all hunted to extinction three hundred years ago..." Emmrich rolled his eyes. "You know that."
"I know," Taash smiled. "But may be we'll find something else to do, should we get bored..."
"Speaking of travels, I'd like to look in on those young griffins, and Azzan wants to stretch his wings," Davrin joined in. "He's fed up with the rat diet in Minrathous," he scowled. "And since you just killed Zara, I figured..."
"Yeah, go on, why not," Anders smiled at them. "It's not like we have any leads right now. Come back though, we're not done yet."
Most people left the breakfast room but Anders and Lucanis were still sipping their coffee.
"We should return to Treviso," Lucanis said after a pause. "Illario has to be dealt with."
"What do you want to do with him?" Anders looked up.
"I cannot kill him, he is like a brother to me..." Lucanis sighed. "No matter what he'd done..."
"He is the reason you now have Spite," Anders gave him a long look.
"I know... and yet..."
"Then let's go and see... Caterina is waiting."
"I have accepted Spite," Lucanis said quietly. "I shall live as an abomination."
"I knew it when I saw your wings," Anders nodded. "You aren't... well... it isn't black and white. I knew a lady who had the Spirit of Faith in her, the same as you. It happens."
"It happened to you as well," Lucanis shot him a glance. "But you wanted Justice out."
"We weren't a very good match..." Anders sighed. "Justice was so forceful, so forthright... so righteous... and I..."
"And you like to walk the edge," Lucanis nodded. "Not just close, but right on top."
"One day it'll get me killed," Anders smirked.
"Not while you are with me," Lucanis smiled. "I really don't care who else you slept with. Let them talk."
"Caterina won't approve," Anders suddenly remembered her face.
"Caterina might surprise you," Lucanis smiled. "Besides, I am no longer a little boy in need of approval."
"Yet you won't punish Illario."
"And you have another cat. Again."
It was true. A tabby kitten found its way into Anders' things. There always seemed to be one around, wherever Anders went. The Wardens had long given up trying to get rid of them.
"Other Wardens have griffins or Mabari hounds, and that's permitted," Anders scowled. "I don't see why I cannot have a cat."
"Because it's soft and fluffy and makes you soft too?" Lucanis repeated the argument that Anders once told him about.
"Ah, you remembered," Anders smiled. "Yeah... oh well."
...
They took the portal to Treviso and stood in Lucanis' family villa a few hours later. The house was silent, there didn't seem to be any Venatori about. They went looking for Caterina, eventually finding her pushing chairs back against the walls in the theatre.
"Caterina, what are you doing?!" Lucanis ran up to her. "All this work... surely, servants can move furniture for you!"
"I am not dead yet and I can do it myself," she answered defiantly. "Luca... you've returned." She put down the chair and squeezed him in an embrace. "I was worried."
"Zara is dead," Lucanis said when she finally released him. "I suppose you know."
"Illario told me, yes," she nodded.
"Where is he?" Lucanis tensed.
"Scrubbing the pool," Caterina grinned. "With a toothbrush."
"That's cruel," Lucanis wrinkled his nose. "Just like when we were kids."
"I did much worse things to you when you were kids," Caterina sighed. "But after both of your parents were killed... all I had left were my two grandsons... I was cruel, I know. The punishment for failing in your training was too harsh. But you are still alive, despite..." She shook her head, regret burning her face.
"It was cruel and I resented you for it," Lucanis nodded. "Illario didn't get punished nearly as much."
"Illario didn't get into trouble nearly as much," Caterina objected. "You were always out, always exploring, pockets full of pebbles, spiders, scorpions even! You neglected your training too much."
"I... tried other things," Lucanis smiled.
"And that is why you are still alive, despite it all," Caterina smiled and hugged him again. "I know what happened, what you have become..." She shot a glance at Anders. "I know that he knows how it is. My Luca... an abomination..." She sighed and shook her head.
"Well, I cannot lead the Crows now," Lucanis said evenly. "Illario will have to do it, to keep it in the family."
"Illario will NOT lead the Crows!" Caterina cried in indignation. "Not after what he'd done." She turned around and paced the room. "No, I cannot permit it. You could lead the Crows of course, but I know you don't want it. We'll give it away. We have cousins. The Crows always change hands, perhaps it is time..."
"Then... I can leave?" Lucanis sounded surprised, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Not leave the Crows, but may be go away for a while..?"
"You want to spend time with your friend," Caterina smiled and frowned at once. "I am not blind, I see what is going on! You never married... In just a few years Mathilde will be too old to have children - you can marry her then, she is still waiting... You could have had a life together! But no, you did not want a family with the Crows..." She shook her head with scorn. "Do you love her still?" She faced Lucanis who looked gaunt, his eyes burning with fever. "I thought as much. That is why you now chose a man. No woman could replace Mathilde." She paused, watching Lucanis. "I too was young once... But the tango is not just for the young."
She walked over to Anders and faced him, he felt her gaze penetrating every secret he ever had.
"Keep him safe, blood mage," she said gravely. "A Grey Warden, you will next go after the Blight... and my Luca will come with you. Do not get him blighted or worse... He is a Crow, not a Grey Warden!" She said with emphasis. "Conscription Rite be damned..." She shook her head and looked away. "But then again, if you Wardens don't stop this Blight... nothing will matter anyway..."
"There is no one in Thedas I care for more," Anders said softly. "But it is as you say - we go after the Blight."
"Come back and see us from time to time," she smiled, putting her hand on his cheek. "Anders... This is the second assassin you Wardens 'borrow' from the Crows, and the first one is yet to return!"
"Zevran? But his life was forfeit..."
"At first," Caterina nodded. "But after that Blight he and his Warden returned and, well, they were very persuasive!" She gave a short laugh. "Zevran is wanted back! But he won't return for as long as his Warden lives... Will you not follow him as well? He left but you stayed behind..."
"I had to face life on my own," Anders smiled.
"With a hole through your heart?" Caterina looked him in the eye. "Aye, life is like a tango."
With Caterina back in control of the Crows, business at the villa was concluded. Yet, when Lucanis turned to leave, Caterina called him back.
"One more thing, Luca," she handed him a note. "Neve Gallus is here, with a plight to annul the contract on her life. Now that Zara is dead, it is permitted. Have you made up your mind yet?"
"Neve is a traitor," Lucanis paled. "Her runes were all over that pool in Zara's mansion."
"But she claims to have set them up before she realised what Zara was doing at her underwater prison." Caterina paused, watching Lucanis. "Before she started implanting demons into people... before you were captured."
"It isn't about me!" Lucanis cried, anger rising in him. "It isn't even about Zara! Neve had a chance to prove her loyalty, to tell us how to find Zara. Yet she flatly refused every time, leading us on a goose chase. She knew about that mansion since her runes were all over the pool!" He glared.
"And so she didn't betray Zara," Caterina shook her head. "Even despite the contract on her life. But she also did not betray you to Zara, even though that was the very reason the contract was enacted. All she had to do was bring you in..."
"But instead we had to walk into that trap on our own in order to find Zara," Lucanis scowled.
"It was your choice to bait her," Caterina objected. "You and Anders are walking too close to the edge..."
"The edge is where the action is, grandmother," Lucanis dismissed the argument, his face set. "The contract stands. Unless you order me to annul it... you are in charge."
"This one is up to you," she smiled. "But if you wait too long, she may turn against you."
"Zara may be dead, but her work is still there," Lucanis shook his head. "Someone else will pick it up and carry on. We need to know when that happens. With Neve in limbo, we'll hear about it. She is bait, Caterina."
"It's a dangerous game you're playing," she sighed. "But that's who you are. Be careful of this one scorpion in your pocket - she will sting you."
"And then she will die," Lucanis smiled. "She has until she betrays us."
"I see." Caterina shook her head and sighed. "Go now, I'll handle the rest. Enjoy Treviso for a while... Grey Wardens gather in the Anderfels, I expect you will soon be off. But there's still time for another tango, Antivan style."
She hugged Lucanis again, and then hugged Anders, quite unexpectedly, and without a word. They said their goodbyes and stepped out into an early evening in Treviso. Music was heard in the distance, coffee aroma was floating in the air. There was still time to relax, Antivan style.
"So, you can smile after all, Lucanis!" Harding exclaimed in mock surprise at breakfast.
"Of course I can smile, what are you talking about?" Lucanis scowled.
"I'm just saying..." Harding winked and giggled.
"Nice to see you putting my tutoring to good use," Dorian smiled at Anders. "If you want any more lessons..."
"Oh cut it out, will you?!" Anders glared at them, helping himself to jam.
"They won't if you two keep giving them cause," Emmrich smiled pleasantly. "In a house with this many servants any juicy stories travel fast, complete and in every detail."
"What detail?!" Lucanis exclaimed indignantly. "We aren't doing it when servants are present!"
"There are keyholes, my friend," Emmrich winked. "Augmented by vivid imagination."
"One look at you, Kadash, and I start imagining all sorts of juicy details," Taash laughed, looking at Anders. "Of course, I don't need to imagine them. Memory serves. Do let me know when you want seconds!"
"Did you sleep with everyone here?!" Lucanis glared at him.
"No, not everyone..." Anders shook his head as vigorously as he dared (just how much did he drink last night?).
"Not everyone, but not for the lack of trying," Harding smirked. "He isn't a shrinking violet, if you get my meaning!" She grinned at Lucanis.
"I think he might have noticed any shrinkage," Bellara suddenly joined in. "I know I didn't."
"Bellara???" Lucanis looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"
"What?" Anders shrugged. "We were bored..."
"You better not let him get bored," Davrin delivered his verdict, shooting a glance at Lucanis. "Grey Wardens don't have a good track record when they are bored. Have you tried his Conscription Ale yet?"
"A what???" Lucanis put down his toast and focused on coffee.
"It's a personal liqueur, every Warden has his own bottle," Davrin explained. "A blend of whatever. I hear Anders made his extra strong before coming here."
"Don't touch it if you value your liver!" Varric grimaced remembering his own experience. "How Wardens can stand such stuff, I shall never know! It's like drinking sodding flames!"
"Nothing burns like the Joining Cup!" Anders and Davrin replied in unison and laughed.
All in all, it was a beautiful morning.
...
"Do you need us any time soon, Kadash?" Taash asked Anders when breakfast was over. She had her arm around Harding who was about half of Taash's height.
"Need for what?" Anders looked puzzled. "Oh, fighting... probably not... why?"
"I want to take Harding dragon hunting," Taash grinned. "My axes and her bow... no dragon will be safe from us! Emmrich tells me there are still some good ones in Nevarra..."
"There used to be some good ones in Nevarra until they were all hunted to extinction three hundred years ago..." Emmrich rolled his eyes. "You know that."
"I know," Taash smiled. "But may be we'll find something else to do, should we get bored..."
"Speaking of travels, I'd like to look in on those young griffins, and Azzan wants to stretch his wings," Davrin joined in. "He's fed up with the rat diet in Minrathous," he scowled. "And since you just killed Zara, I figured..."
"Yeah, go on, why not," Anders smiled at them. "It's not like we have any leads right now. Come back though, we're not done yet."
Most people left the breakfast room but Anders and Lucanis were still sipping their coffee.
"We should return to Treviso," Lucanis said after a pause. "Illario has to be dealt with."
"What do you want to do with him?" Anders looked up.
"I cannot kill him, he is like a brother to me..." Lucanis sighed. "No matter what he'd done..."
"He is the reason you now have Spite," Anders gave him a long look.
"I know... and yet..."
"Then let's go and see... Caterina is waiting."
"I have accepted Spite," Lucanis said quietly. "I shall live as an abomination."
"I knew it when I saw your wings," Anders nodded. "You aren't... well... it isn't black and white. I knew a lady who had the Spirit of Faith in her, the same as you. It happens."
"It happened to you as well," Lucanis shot him a glance. "But you wanted Justice out."
"We weren't a very good match..." Anders sighed. "Justice was so forceful, so forthright... so righteous... and I..."
"And you like to walk the edge," Lucanis nodded. "Not just close, but right on top."
"One day it'll get me killed," Anders smirked.
"Not while you are with me," Lucanis smiled. "I really don't care who else you slept with. Let them talk."
"Caterina won't approve," Anders suddenly remembered her face.
"Caterina might surprise you," Lucanis smiled. "Besides, I am no longer a little boy in need of approval."
"Yet you won't punish Illario."
"And you have another cat. Again."
It was true. A tabby kitten found its way into Anders' things. There always seemed to be one around, wherever Anders went. The Wardens had long given up trying to get rid of them.
"Other Wardens have griffins or Mabari hounds, and that's permitted," Anders scowled. "I don't see why I cannot have a cat."
"Because it's soft and fluffy and makes you soft too?" Lucanis repeated the argument that Anders once told him about.
"Ah, you remembered," Anders smiled. "Yeah... oh well."
...
They took the portal to Treviso and stood in Lucanis' family villa a few hours later. The house was silent, there didn't seem to be any Venatori about. They went looking for Caterina, eventually finding her pushing chairs back against the walls in the theatre.
"Caterina, what are you doing?!" Lucanis ran up to her. "All this work... surely, servants can move furniture for you!"
"I am not dead yet and I can do it myself," she answered defiantly. "Luca... you've returned." She put down the chair and squeezed him in an embrace. "I was worried."
"Zara is dead," Lucanis said when she finally released him. "I suppose you know."
"Illario told me, yes," she nodded.
"Where is he?" Lucanis tensed.
"Scrubbing the pool," Caterina grinned. "With a toothbrush."
"That's cruel," Lucanis wrinkled his nose. "Just like when we were kids."
"I did much worse things to you when you were kids," Caterina sighed. "But after both of your parents were killed... all I had left were my two grandsons... I was cruel, I know. The punishment for failing in your training was too harsh. But you are still alive, despite..." She shook her head, regret burning her face.
"It was cruel and I resented you for it," Lucanis nodded. "Illario didn't get punished nearly as much."
"Illario didn't get into trouble nearly as much," Caterina objected. "You were always out, always exploring, pockets full of pebbles, spiders, scorpions even! You neglected your training too much."
"I... tried other things," Lucanis smiled.
"And that is why you are still alive, despite it all," Caterina smiled and hugged him again. "I know what happened, what you have become..." She shot a glance at Anders. "I know that he knows how it is. My Luca... an abomination..." She sighed and shook her head.
"Well, I cannot lead the Crows now," Lucanis said evenly. "Illario will have to do it, to keep it in the family."
"Illario will NOT lead the Crows!" Caterina cried in indignation. "Not after what he'd done." She turned around and paced the room. "No, I cannot permit it. You could lead the Crows of course, but I know you don't want it. We'll give it away. We have cousins. The Crows always change hands, perhaps it is time..."
"Then... I can leave?" Lucanis sounded surprised, hardly believing what he was hearing. "Not leave the Crows, but may be go away for a while..?"
"You want to spend time with your friend," Caterina smiled and frowned at once. "I am not blind, I see what is going on! You never married... In just a few years Mathilde will be too old to have children - you can marry her then, she is still waiting... You could have had a life together! But no, you did not want a family with the Crows..." She shook her head with scorn. "Do you love her still?" She faced Lucanis who looked gaunt, his eyes burning with fever. "I thought as much. That is why you now chose a man. No woman could replace Mathilde." She paused, watching Lucanis. "I too was young once... But the tango is not just for the young."
She walked over to Anders and faced him, he felt her gaze penetrating every secret he ever had.
"Keep him safe, blood mage," she said gravely. "A Grey Warden, you will next go after the Blight... and my Luca will come with you. Do not get him blighted or worse... He is a Crow, not a Grey Warden!" She said with emphasis. "Conscription Rite be damned..." She shook her head and looked away. "But then again, if you Wardens don't stop this Blight... nothing will matter anyway..."
"There is no one in Thedas I care for more," Anders said softly. "But it is as you say - we go after the Blight."
"Come back and see us from time to time," she smiled, putting her hand on his cheek. "Anders... This is the second assassin you Wardens 'borrow' from the Crows, and the first one is yet to return!"
"Zevran? But his life was forfeit..."
"At first," Caterina nodded. "But after that Blight he and his Warden returned and, well, they were very persuasive!" She gave a short laugh. "Zevran is wanted back! But he won't return for as long as his Warden lives... Will you not follow him as well? He left but you stayed behind..."
"I had to face life on my own," Anders smiled.
"With a hole through your heart?" Caterina looked him in the eye. "Aye, life is like a tango."
With Caterina back in control of the Crows, business at the villa was concluded. Yet, when Lucanis turned to leave, Caterina called him back.
"One more thing, Luca," she handed him a note. "Neve Gallus is here, with a plight to annul the contract on her life. Now that Zara is dead, it is permitted. Have you made up your mind yet?"
"Neve is a traitor," Lucanis paled. "Her runes were all over that pool in Zara's mansion."
"But she claims to have set them up before she realised what Zara was doing at her underwater prison." Caterina paused, watching Lucanis. "Before she started implanting demons into people... before you were captured."
"It isn't about me!" Lucanis cried, anger rising in him. "It isn't even about Zara! Neve had a chance to prove her loyalty, to tell us how to find Zara. Yet she flatly refused every time, leading us on a goose chase. She knew about that mansion since her runes were all over the pool!" He glared.
"And so she didn't betray Zara," Caterina shook her head. "Even despite the contract on her life. But she also did not betray you to Zara, even though that was the very reason the contract was enacted. All she had to do was bring you in..."
"But instead we had to walk into that trap on our own in order to find Zara," Lucanis scowled.
"It was your choice to bait her," Caterina objected. "You and Anders are walking too close to the edge..."
"The edge is where the action is, grandmother," Lucanis dismissed the argument, his face set. "The contract stands. Unless you order me to annul it... you are in charge."
"This one is up to you," she smiled. "But if you wait too long, she may turn against you."
"Zara may be dead, but her work is still there," Lucanis shook his head. "Someone else will pick it up and carry on. We need to know when that happens. With Neve in limbo, we'll hear about it. She is bait, Caterina."
"It's a dangerous game you're playing," she sighed. "But that's who you are. Be careful of this one scorpion in your pocket - she will sting you."
"And then she will die," Lucanis smiled. "She has until she betrays us."
"I see." Caterina shook her head and sighed. "Go now, I'll handle the rest. Enjoy Treviso for a while... Grey Wardens gather in the Anderfels, I expect you will soon be off. But there's still time for another tango, Antivan style."
She hugged Lucanis again, and then hugged Anders, quite unexpectedly, and without a word. They said their goodbyes and stepped out into an early evening in Treviso. Music was heard in the distance, coffee aroma was floating in the air. There was still time to relax, Antivan style.
Morning Star, 3E411 - An evening in Treviso
"Coffee?" Lucanis' answer to everything was coffee. "I need to get my head around of what just happened."
"Yeah, that was... unexpected," Anders nodded. From all possible Caterina's reactions to Lucanis' refusal to lead the Crows, acceptance was among the impossible. And yet, she must have decided it already a while back - she would hand over the Crows to some cousins instead of her favourite grandson. But Lucanis didn't want it and Illario was out of the question after all his treason... and Caterina chose to pass the Crows on so that Lucanis could join Anders in the fight against the Blight... "He is a Crow, not a Grey Warden!" That was all she said... Lucanis was not to be conscripted, but other than that... "It is the second assassin that Grey Wardens 'borrow' from the Crows!" Oh yes, Zevran was the first.
Caterina was in no rush to step down though. She would lead the Crows for a while yet, but Lucanis was no longer expected to eventually take over. That meant the world to him.
Treviso was descending into the evening, and Lucanis picked up the pace going straight to his favourite cafe. It seemed the whole city was out and about. The cafe was packed, but someone waved from a back table.
"Viago and Teia!" Lucanis pointed out his friends. "Let's see what they've heard already!"
"Congratulations!" Viago shook Lucanis' hand eagerly, all smiles, with Teia seconding him.
"Thanks, but what exactly have you heard?" Lucanis grinned, thinking they only knew half of the story.
"Why, Zara is dead, of course!" Viago gave him a broad grin. "It's the talk of the town! Well, among the Crows, at least. And Illario's role has not gone unnoticed," he frowned. "Caterina is back, and it won't be long before you're the head of the Crows!"
"Right on the first point, wrong on the last," Lucanis was savouring the pleasure of surprising him. "Caterina will pass the Crows onto some cousins. I will not take over."
"Oh! That is indeed a surprise!" Viago and Teia exclaimed in unison. "But why?"
"You know I've always dreaded this," Lucanis shrugged. "Grandmother spared me that agony."
"Dreaded... if the Demon of Vyrantium ever dreads anything..." Teia shook her head. "But then congratulations are even more in order! We'll have you back on contracts then?"
"Err... no," Lucanis smiled. "Not yet. I'll be joining Grey Wardens going after the Blight. Without becoming a Warden myself, mind."
"You'll be joining Anders here, you mean," Viago smirked. "It's unusual as far as honey moon destinations go... but whatever," he winked.
"Honey moon..?" It was Lucanis' turn to be surprised.
"Oh come now, it's obvious!" Teia laughed. "That's the other thing the whole town is talking about - and not just the Crows! Lucanis Dellamorte is no longer single!"
"That turned a few heads," Viago seconded. "And... well... never mind."
"Mathilda?" Lucanis asked, his face darkening.
"There's talk..." Viago nodded. "You know she recently widowed... by our hand. I suppose she expected..."
"That I marry her," Lucanis said gravely. "I know. I thought of this. I..." He paused, looking away. "It's been over twenty five years... since... we last spoke," he shook his head. "I am not certain whether it is the same woman... or may be the one I still love remained in the past?"
"You could have at least talked to her since her husband's death," Viago pointed out. "It was before your imprisonment."
"But what if she's changed?"
"Then you'll know it," Teia said quietly. "As it is, you are still thinking of the girl from twenty five years ago."
"I haven't spoken to her since she married," Lucanis nodded.
"She had no children," Viago added.
"You should find out," Teia agreed.
"Well... I'm not so sure," Lucanis looked away, focusing on his coffee.
They sat in silence for a while, then a street minstrel brought a song into the room.
"I am sorry, we should not have spoken of this," Viago touched Lucanis' hand. "It is none of our business. We are happy you finally found someone who is not family or a contract. Perhaps the past should remain in the past."
"Perhaps you should show Anders what Treviso has to offer," Teia smiled. "Tortoni has a new band, I hear they are quite good..."
"Tortoni always has good music," Viago agreed. "Even if it is often Orlaisian..."
"Well, what do you expect from an Orlaisian immigrant?" Teia shrugged. "But he knows his cooking..."
"Orlaisians usually do..."
"As do Antivans," Lucanis pointed out. "But why not. Shall we all go? Or do you have plans?"
"No plans," Teia said quickly, shooting a stringent glance at Viago. "Let's go!"
...
Cafe Tortoni was packed as usual, but there was always a table free for the Crows, especially this one Crow that the whole town was talking about - Lucanis. They refused the menu, only taking light tapaz and an invariable bottle of wine - Rioja Reserva, and none of that sweet Tevinter nonsense, as Antivans liked to point out. The night was young, and Tortoni's cellars were well stocked, with Rioja Granda replacing Reserva as the evening wore on.
The band was playing tango. One after the other, with tunes blending seamlessly into one continuous stream of music. There was no singer, the accordion was taking the lead instead. The dance floor was packed as densely as the room, cigar smoke mixing with that of cigarillos, large fans moving it up and away. The dancers seemed to be smoking too... Like at The Gay Vint, most dancers were focusing on their own dance, but the steps were more precise, more measured, as the rhythm of the Antivan tango was sharply punctuated with every beat... One, two, three, turn... one, two, three, turn... After a while Anders started noticing the difference among the dancers. While simple steps were most prevalent, some couples put a lot more variation into their dances, with daring acrobatic moves stealing the show.
"The Crows like to show off," Viago pointed them out. "We train in acrobatics from our youth, for professional reasons, you understand, but it also comes in handy on the dance floor."
"I see a lot of elaborate moves and very little passion," Anders commented, watching the floor.
"It's the music," Viago nodded. "Wait until the singer appears."
Several bottles of Rioja later, there was a subtle change. The accordionist slumped on a stool at the bar, tired after a long performance; several other musicians changed. A saxophone, a violin, a cello joined the jam... and yet the vibe did not change until the singer appeared.
Bésame, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez...
The famous song walked in and took possession of the room. For a moment the dance floor froze, as if asking itself whether it was ready for real emotion. Some dancers were, others weren't. The time for acrobatics was over. The sax and the violin played a duet allowing the floor to make up its mind.
"And this is tango Antivan style," Lucanis got Anders to his feet. "None of that showy nonsense. Come - we start with the same basic steps..."
The voice, so deep it could be male, was nonetheless unmistakably female, blending the boundaries of perception. A woman in the second half of her life, simple and barefoot, sang effortlessly, her intimate words meant for just the one person in the room... and every person felt she sang to them.
The verses were simple; there wasn't much more to say, that first phrase carried all the love and the sadness at once. The saxophone, the guitar and the piano took turns to continue the conversation - the dance seemed to never end.
"They dance well together," Viago said quietly to Teia, watching Anders and Lucanis. "I wonder what they are talking about."
"Are they talking?" Teia followed them with her eyes. "They don't seem to need to."
"This is a song about losing someone you love, why would they dance to it?"
"May be they don't read too much into the lyrics and just enjoy the dance?" Teia smiled, putting her head on Viago's shoulder. "It's just a song..."
Quiero tenerte muy cerca
Mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mí...
"Just a song, eh?" Viago put his arm around her. "Bésame, bésame mucho..."
Anders and Lucanis were moving across the dance floor easily navigating between the other pairs as everyone seemed to be somehow always in step, and there was enough room for all the twirls and dives and even acrobatics, as out of place as it seemed in a tune like that. Lucanis was leading; just like in Minrathous, he let Anders fall in a deep dive, catching him at the last moment and bringing him up in a twirl just as the violin finished its phrase, with the saxophone taking over. And just like in Minrathous, Anders switched the step and took the lead.
"Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despué..." Lucanis mouthed with the singer.
"You won't lose me," Anders put out his hand in the fashion of the tango, taking Lucanis' in his. "We walk together." One, two, three, turn.
"To the gates of the Black City," Lucanis pressed his cheek to Anders', taking his lead in this tango. One, two, three, turn.
"As far as need be, I hear the song." A twirl, and back in step. One, two, three, turn.
"This isn't a tango," Lucanis smiled, changing step. "Although you can dance it as one." Another dive for Anders, with Lucanis catching him at the last moment.
"Antivan style," Anders smiled. "Nothing is as it seems."
The guitar won the argument this time, pushing both the saxophone and the piano to the background. It was a tango now.
Bésame, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez
Bésame, bésame mucho
Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después...
"...perderte después..." It was now Anders mouthing the song.
"Not while I live," Lucanis caught him in an embrace, letting the legs do the slow steps.
"Is that a promise?" Anders smiled.
"It's a contract."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Music by Consuelo Velázquez sung by Cesária Évora -
listen here.
"Coffee?" Lucanis' answer to everything was coffee. "I need to get my head around of what just happened."
"Yeah, that was... unexpected," Anders nodded. From all possible Caterina's reactions to Lucanis' refusal to lead the Crows, acceptance was among the impossible. And yet, she must have decided it already a while back - she would hand over the Crows to some cousins instead of her favourite grandson. But Lucanis didn't want it and Illario was out of the question after all his treason... and Caterina chose to pass the Crows on so that Lucanis could join Anders in the fight against the Blight... "He is a Crow, not a Grey Warden!" That was all she said... Lucanis was not to be conscripted, but other than that... "It is the second assassin that Grey Wardens 'borrow' from the Crows!" Oh yes, Zevran was the first.
Caterina was in no rush to step down though. She would lead the Crows for a while yet, but Lucanis was no longer expected to eventually take over. That meant the world to him.
Treviso was descending into the evening, and Lucanis picked up the pace going straight to his favourite cafe. It seemed the whole city was out and about. The cafe was packed, but someone waved from a back table.
"Viago and Teia!" Lucanis pointed out his friends. "Let's see what they've heard already!"
"Congratulations!" Viago shook Lucanis' hand eagerly, all smiles, with Teia seconding him.
"Thanks, but what exactly have you heard?" Lucanis grinned, thinking they only knew half of the story.
"Why, Zara is dead, of course!" Viago gave him a broad grin. "It's the talk of the town! Well, among the Crows, at least. And Illario's role has not gone unnoticed," he frowned. "Caterina is back, and it won't be long before you're the head of the Crows!"
"Right on the first point, wrong on the last," Lucanis was savouring the pleasure of surprising him. "Caterina will pass the Crows onto some cousins. I will not take over."
"Oh! That is indeed a surprise!" Viago and Teia exclaimed in unison. "But why?"
"You know I've always dreaded this," Lucanis shrugged. "Grandmother spared me that agony."
"Dreaded... if the Demon of Vyrantium ever dreads anything..." Teia shook her head. "But then congratulations are even more in order! We'll have you back on contracts then?"
"Err... no," Lucanis smiled. "Not yet. I'll be joining Grey Wardens going after the Blight. Without becoming a Warden myself, mind."
"You'll be joining Anders here, you mean," Viago smirked. "It's unusual as far as honey moon destinations go... but whatever," he winked.
"Honey moon..?" It was Lucanis' turn to be surprised.
"Oh come now, it's obvious!" Teia laughed. "That's the other thing the whole town is talking about - and not just the Crows! Lucanis Dellamorte is no longer single!"
"That turned a few heads," Viago seconded. "And... well... never mind."
"Mathilda?" Lucanis asked, his face darkening.
"There's talk..." Viago nodded. "You know she recently widowed... by our hand. I suppose she expected..."
"That I marry her," Lucanis said gravely. "I know. I thought of this. I..." He paused, looking away. "It's been over twenty five years... since... we last spoke," he shook his head. "I am not certain whether it is the same woman... or may be the one I still love remained in the past?"
"You could have at least talked to her since her husband's death," Viago pointed out. "It was before your imprisonment."
"But what if she's changed?"
"Then you'll know it," Teia said quietly. "As it is, you are still thinking of the girl from twenty five years ago."
"I haven't spoken to her since she married," Lucanis nodded.
"She had no children," Viago added.
"You should find out," Teia agreed.
"Well... I'm not so sure," Lucanis looked away, focusing on his coffee.
They sat in silence for a while, then a street minstrel brought a song into the room.
"I am sorry, we should not have spoken of this," Viago touched Lucanis' hand. "It is none of our business. We are happy you finally found someone who is not family or a contract. Perhaps the past should remain in the past."
"Perhaps you should show Anders what Treviso has to offer," Teia smiled. "Tortoni has a new band, I hear they are quite good..."
"Tortoni always has good music," Viago agreed. "Even if it is often Orlaisian..."
"Well, what do you expect from an Orlaisian immigrant?" Teia shrugged. "But he knows his cooking..."
"Orlaisians usually do..."
"As do Antivans," Lucanis pointed out. "But why not. Shall we all go? Or do you have plans?"
"No plans," Teia said quickly, shooting a stringent glance at Viago. "Let's go!"
...
Cafe Tortoni was packed as usual, but there was always a table free for the Crows, especially this one Crow that the whole town was talking about - Lucanis. They refused the menu, only taking light tapaz and an invariable bottle of wine - Rioja Reserva, and none of that sweet Tevinter nonsense, as Antivans liked to point out. The night was young, and Tortoni's cellars were well stocked, with Rioja Granda replacing Reserva as the evening wore on.
The band was playing tango. One after the other, with tunes blending seamlessly into one continuous stream of music. There was no singer, the accordion was taking the lead instead. The dance floor was packed as densely as the room, cigar smoke mixing with that of cigarillos, large fans moving it up and away. The dancers seemed to be smoking too... Like at The Gay Vint, most dancers were focusing on their own dance, but the steps were more precise, more measured, as the rhythm of the Antivan tango was sharply punctuated with every beat... One, two, three, turn... one, two, three, turn... After a while Anders started noticing the difference among the dancers. While simple steps were most prevalent, some couples put a lot more variation into their dances, with daring acrobatic moves stealing the show.
"The Crows like to show off," Viago pointed them out. "We train in acrobatics from our youth, for professional reasons, you understand, but it also comes in handy on the dance floor."
"I see a lot of elaborate moves and very little passion," Anders commented, watching the floor.
"It's the music," Viago nodded. "Wait until the singer appears."
Several bottles of Rioja later, there was a subtle change. The accordionist slumped on a stool at the bar, tired after a long performance; several other musicians changed. A saxophone, a violin, a cello joined the jam... and yet the vibe did not change until the singer appeared.
Bésame, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez...
The famous song walked in and took possession of the room. For a moment the dance floor froze, as if asking itself whether it was ready for real emotion. Some dancers were, others weren't. The time for acrobatics was over. The sax and the violin played a duet allowing the floor to make up its mind.
"And this is tango Antivan style," Lucanis got Anders to his feet. "None of that showy nonsense. Come - we start with the same basic steps..."
The voice, so deep it could be male, was nonetheless unmistakably female, blending the boundaries of perception. A woman in the second half of her life, simple and barefoot, sang effortlessly, her intimate words meant for just the one person in the room... and every person felt she sang to them.
The verses were simple; there wasn't much more to say, that first phrase carried all the love and the sadness at once. The saxophone, the guitar and the piano took turns to continue the conversation - the dance seemed to never end.
"They dance well together," Viago said quietly to Teia, watching Anders and Lucanis. "I wonder what they are talking about."
"Are they talking?" Teia followed them with her eyes. "They don't seem to need to."
"This is a song about losing someone you love, why would they dance to it?"
"May be they don't read too much into the lyrics and just enjoy the dance?" Teia smiled, putting her head on Viago's shoulder. "It's just a song..."
Quiero tenerte muy cerca
Mirarme en tus ojos, verte junto a mí...
"Just a song, eh?" Viago put his arm around her. "Bésame, bésame mucho..."
Anders and Lucanis were moving across the dance floor easily navigating between the other pairs as everyone seemed to be somehow always in step, and there was enough room for all the twirls and dives and even acrobatics, as out of place as it seemed in a tune like that. Lucanis was leading; just like in Minrathous, he let Anders fall in a deep dive, catching him at the last moment and bringing him up in a twirl just as the violin finished its phrase, with the saxophone taking over. And just like in Minrathous, Anders switched the step and took the lead.
"Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despué..." Lucanis mouthed with the singer.
"You won't lose me," Anders put out his hand in the fashion of the tango, taking Lucanis' in his. "We walk together." One, two, three, turn.
"To the gates of the Black City," Lucanis pressed his cheek to Anders', taking his lead in this tango. One, two, three, turn.
"As far as need be, I hear the song." A twirl, and back in step. One, two, three, turn.
"This isn't a tango," Lucanis smiled, changing step. "Although you can dance it as one." Another dive for Anders, with Lucanis catching him at the last moment.
"Antivan style," Anders smiled. "Nothing is as it seems."
The guitar won the argument this time, pushing both the saxophone and the piano to the background. It was a tango now.
Bésame, bésame mucho
Como si fuera esta noche la última vez
Bésame, bésame mucho
Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte después...
"...perderte después..." It was now Anders mouthing the song.
"Not while I live," Lucanis caught him in an embrace, letting the legs do the slow steps.
"Is that a promise?" Anders smiled.
"It's a contract."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Music by Consuelo Velázquez sung by Cesária Évora -
listen here.
Morning Star, 3E411 - Another song
"Here we go again," Anders sat up in bed, having woken up in the middle of the night. "It's time."
"Hmm...?" Lucanis woke up too. "A nightmare?"
"The Blight is on the move," Anders straightened up, every frivolity evaporating from his person. "We leave in the morning, Lucanis. Minrathous, then on to the Anderfels."
"Luca... call me Luca," Lucanis put his hand on Anders' shoulder, sensing how tense he was. "And so it begins."
"The other Wardens will have sensed it too," Anders nodded. "But still, tell Spite to contact Avernus through the Fade... Tell Alistair to be ready."
"Avernus knows," a spectral crow appeared at Lucanis' shoulder. "He sends his regards," the crow hissed. "They will wait for your signal... you move first."
"Linus Kristavssen - that is my name," Anders turned to Lucanis. "I never told anyone. But we go to the land of my birth, and we may not return. I have a feeling this Blight will not be fought in the Deep Roads, but in the Anderfels. The fall of the Head Quarters was symbolic in more than one way."
"We'll do our best, Linus," Lucanis said softly.
"It's strange to hear you call me that," Anders smiled. "I haven't heard that name since I was little... I remember my mother calling me that... just barely, she died when I was too young... I remember my uncle and aunt saying my name... and it isn't something I'm fond of. When the templars took me to Ferelden, I would not tell them my name out of resentment at first, but then they called me Anders - one from the Anderfels - and I thought why not, it was a new start, why not leave my name behind... since my parents were dead anyway. What a thought for a seven year old..." He smirked. "I don't know if Linus is still alive."
"You chose a name that connects you to that frozen land every time someone speaks it," Lucanis inclined his head. "Anders. You carry the Anderfels with you wherever you go, even to your home in Ferelden. The Soldier's Peak is frozen too - it fits. But in the Anderfels you no longer need to be reminded. Linus isn't dead, he's just been waiting to return."
"I want my name to be known in case we perish," Anders nodded. "Anders, Mage of the Circle of Ferelden, Anders of the Order of the Grey of Ferelden, Linus Kristavssen of the Anderfels. That one has no titles."
It was still the early hours of the morning but neither of them could sleep any more. Lucanis got up and started making coffee.
"It isn't the first time you're going after the Blight," he said, shooting a glance at Anders. "But this Blight seems different."
"It is," Anders nodded. "The song has changed - the song of the Blight that I hear, that every Grey Warden hears. This Blight is going to test me on every level - as a mage, as a Warden, as a leader... that last one is a first for me, and that worries me the most."
"A good leader gets help, and that's what you've been doing," Lucanis pointed out. "Your team - yes, it is your team and not Varric's or Dorian's. We follow you, we stay because of you."
"It's ironic, really," Anders smirked. "Because I am Dorian's slave."
"He bought you out to save your life, no?" Lucanis shook his head. "So yes, officially, by Tevinter laws, you are his slave - in Tevinter only. But Dorian does not see you as a slave, and we all know that."
"Yeah... So I had to be bought out, or else I'd be dead." Anders tensed up, self-doubt eating at him. "How many times Wolf came to my rescue? I lost count. Wolf left, and now it's Dorian who stepped in, but the point remains - I have to be rescued. I always mess things up."
"And if you didn't keep sewing me up after that dragon fight, I'd be dead too," Lucanis reminded him. "And when Illario nearly killed Spite. And when we were going through the villa and through Zara's house - without you, I'd be long dead for sure. People need help sometimes," he smiled. "You get in trouble because you always walk the edge."
"Which is not something a leader should do!"
"Oh, I don't know," Lucanis squinted. "It really depends. In the case of this Blight, safety will get you nowhere. You are exactly the right man for the job."
They returned to Minrathous at the first light. The Pavus Manor was still asleep when they entered, and again Lucanis' response was to start making coffee. Soon the residents started getting up.
Dorian was the first to appear and signal the butler that breakfast should be hearty and served immediately. He wasn't a Grey Warden, but he still knew that something was afoot. Davrin arrived the previous evening without saying a word, and that put Dorian on edge.
"It's time," Anders nodded when Dorian asked about the Blight. "We've all heard the song."
"That explains Davrin," Dorian agreed. "But should we send word to the others? Taash and Harding are somewhere in Nevarra."
"I would be much surprised if they didn't turn up here today," Anders smiled. "Neither of them is a Grey Warden, but Harding still has connections, and I think she would have been informed. What of the others?"
"Emmrich and Bellara are here," Dorian looked around as if expecting them to enter the breakfast room any moment. "Neve... what do you want to do with Neve?" He looked at Lucanis.
"Neve is a traitor," Lucanis said coldly. "Set her loose and watch. She'll betray us at some point, and who she betrays us to will be more important than she herself. I shall kill her then."
"As you wish," Dorian nodded. "We shall set her free." He fumbled in the pockets of his robe looking for something, and Anders took advantage of the pause. He embraced Dorian and kissed him, disregarding the surprise.
"Thank you," Anders said. "Master."
"What..?" Dorian looked dazed, it was too early in the morning. "Master..? Oh right, yes, here, this is for you." He finally found what he was looking for - an official scroll with a seal of the Tevinter Magisterium. "I should have done it sooner. I do apologise for the delay."
It was a document declaring that Anders was no longer a slave of Dorian Pavus but a free man, no financial compensation required.
"We never thought you considered him a slave," Lucanis said, seeing the document. "And now it is official."
"That's not what I meant," Anders smiled. "Although thank you for that too."
"He meant us." Lucanis stood right behind him.
"For opening our minds." Anders still held Dorian in an embrace and he kissed him again, looking into his eyes.
"I... well... I am happy for the two of you," Dorian smiled. "Life isn't always clear-cut, is it?" He hugged Anders. "So, what now?"
"Now we go after the Blight," Anders suddenly looked serious. "Are you coming? We could use a mage of your power."
"Like in the old days, eh?" Dorian grinned. "Of course I'm coming. Varric too, he's been polishing his crossbow for several days already. We're with you, Anders," he added reassuringly.
"We should wait for everyone to assemble," Lucanis nodded. "Spite will open a portal to the old Grey Warden Head Quarters. He's got everything ready."
"Well," Dorian looked pleasantly surprised. "I am glad, Lucanis. It could not have been easy to accept."
"You have no idea," Lucanis said with a frown.
...
It was a grey cold mid-morning of the following day when Anders and his team stepped out of a portal in the middle of the ruined Grey Warden Head Quarters in the Anderfels. The portal closed and a spectral crow landed on Lucanis' shoulder. Davrin shot it a sideways glance and shivered. Azzan flapped his wings but didn't take flight. Emmrich smiled and nodded.
"Wardens?" Someone called to them from further in. "Who goes there?"
"Wardens Anders and Davrin with friends," Anders replied loudly. "Good to see someone is paying attention."
"There are just a few of us here," an elderly Warden approached. "Not really fit to fight after... you know," he shook his head. "But we keep watch. You heard the song, I take it?"
"It's hard to miss," Anders nodded.
"You should go to the other Keep," the Warden continued. "Antoine is there, they've had a lot of fighting. The Blight is on the move."
"Why there?" Anders squinted. "And not here, for example?"
"What's here is no longer important," the Warden shrugged. "Not to the Blight, that is. A bunch of old books is all that's left. Oh yes, and the Archdemon blood in the vaults... But if the Blight has a new living Archdemon, they don't care for the old blood in the vaults."
"The other Keep doesn't have anything special, but there are Grey Warden Vaults nearby," Davrin nodded. "The ones that keep the artefacts from all past Blights. They are said to be huge... a fortress in itself. No idea what's in there, we were never allowed in..."
"Who's guarding them?" Anders looked worried.
"No one..." Davrin shrugged. "Well, traps... you can't actually get in."
"Unless you really want to," Anders looked somber. "You've been to the Deep Roads? No? Well..."
"Deep Roads entrances are marked on this map," the elderly Warden handed Anders an old map with hand-made markings. "These..." he pointed out two or three, "...are just near the old Vaults here. There may be some inside as well. Take it. I have no need of it any more, I can find them in my sleep."
Anders thanked the Warden and took the map. He noticed black veins running along the Warden's wrist - he must have been hearing the song loud and clear, yet chose to resist for as long as he could. He didn't have much longer to live.
"Do you have enough mixtures for the pain?" Anders started offloading vials from his pack.
"We do, keep them," the Warden stopped him. "Take them where the fighting is. We'll manage back here. Come bury us if you survive - this is our last Blight."
"You have no mixtures, do you?" Anders squinted and shook his head but put the vials back into his pack. "Keep records. What is your name?"
"Roderik," the Warden replied. "Markus and Linus are back there, they don't walk very well, Anders of Ferelden..."
"Linus Kristavssen of the Anderfels," Anders said softly. "Your comrade's namesake. Tell him... there's another Linus with the Wardens."
"Good luck to you, Warden of the Anderfels," Roderik smiled. "Good luck to you too, Warden Davrin," he turned to Davrin who was listening with horror. "Let's hope you'll live to see black veins appear under your own skin, many years from now..."
...
"That Warden is all but consumed by the blight," Davrin was saying in a hushed voice as they were walking towards the other Keep. "Have you seen his veins? Yes, of course you have..." he shivered. "He must be in agony!"
"And yet he keeps to his duty," Anders pointed out. "Roderik, Markus and Linus... we must remember them."
"I can't imagine what it must be like... the song must be overwhelming," Davrin was still in shock.
"At this stage of blight consumption the pain almost blots out the song," Anders said quietly. "It varies from person to person... but that's what most of them report."
"You've seen a lot of dying Wardens, haven't you?" Davrin suddenly realised that Anders was a healer.
"No, I've seen only some, in the Deep Roads. The ones that went down fighting, at much earlier stages of the blight. I've seen a lot of blighted people though. At some point no mixture is strong enough to stop the pain..."
"What did you do?" Davrin stopped dead.
"It depends what they wanted," Anders stopped too, facing him. "Some wanted death, which I granted, others... well, it depends."
"Others wanted to join Grey Wardens to stop their blight," Davrin guessed. "Which you did not grant?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It's the wrong reason to join Grey Wardens," Anders' eyes were hard. "But it wasn't my decision. I put them in contact with whoever was in charge locally. Not many survive the Joining when they are so far gone."
"And those that do?" Davrin wanted to know. "Does it really stop their blight?"
"It doesn't, no," Anders shook his head. "But it slows it down and takes away most of the pain. It's like they get a boost, like they can go on for a while longer before succumbing to it. Like the Blight in the Archdemon's blood that hey drink combines with their own making them stronger... That's the terrifying thought - self-healing Blight. Antoine has been studying it..."
"Antoine is one of those Grey Wardens who joined because he was blighted," Davrin pointed out, resuming walking.
"Yes, and in Antoine's case my reservations don't hold," Anders nodded. "He is a true Warden."
"As opposed to false Wardens?" Davrin didn't agree with those reservations. "We are all Wardens, Anders, regardless why we joined. Many simply get conscripted by the Rite, whether they like it or not."
"A good Warden-Commander does not force anyone to join Grey Wardens," Anders shot Davrin a glance. "The recruit must understand what he's getting into! How did you get conscripted?"
"I got bored," Davrin shrugged and grinned. "Growing up in the forests of Tevinter... I am Dalish, you see," he stroked his elven ears. "There was nothing to do! It's either hunt the deer or tend to the halla... and I wanted action! Monster hunting! So I came here to the Head Quarters and asked to join. And was accepted."
"I see," Anders didn't sound surprised. "And has it been everything you hoped for?"
"Up until the Head Quarters got clobbered... yes," Davrin sighed. "The actual Blight is ugly."
"It is."
They walked in silence for a while and the turrets of the old Keep were already appearing in the distance when Davrin finally dared to ask his question.
"I know we didn't start out well... I behaved like a dunderhead," he said somewhat awkwardly. "But why did you join, Anders?"
"I was rescued by the Wardens," he answered simply. "I was going to be made tranquil, but one Warden went out of his way to save my life. Then I knew where I belonged."
"Wow! That's romantic..." Davrin whistled.
"It didn't feel very romantic at the time, I assure you," Anders smirked. "But in essence that's what it was," he concluded just as they were walking up the steps of the Keep. "Antoine!" He cried to someone within. "Reinforcements have arrived!"
A tired-looking elf met them at the top of the stairs.
"Hello, my friend," he smiled to Anders. "Come - it's quiet for the moment. Let me tell you about the new song of the Blight..."
"Here we go again," Anders sat up in bed, having woken up in the middle of the night. "It's time."
"Hmm...?" Lucanis woke up too. "A nightmare?"
"The Blight is on the move," Anders straightened up, every frivolity evaporating from his person. "We leave in the morning, Lucanis. Minrathous, then on to the Anderfels."
"Luca... call me Luca," Lucanis put his hand on Anders' shoulder, sensing how tense he was. "And so it begins."
"The other Wardens will have sensed it too," Anders nodded. "But still, tell Spite to contact Avernus through the Fade... Tell Alistair to be ready."
"Avernus knows," a spectral crow appeared at Lucanis' shoulder. "He sends his regards," the crow hissed. "They will wait for your signal... you move first."
"Linus Kristavssen - that is my name," Anders turned to Lucanis. "I never told anyone. But we go to the land of my birth, and we may not return. I have a feeling this Blight will not be fought in the Deep Roads, but in the Anderfels. The fall of the Head Quarters was symbolic in more than one way."
"We'll do our best, Linus," Lucanis said softly.
"It's strange to hear you call me that," Anders smiled. "I haven't heard that name since I was little... I remember my mother calling me that... just barely, she died when I was too young... I remember my uncle and aunt saying my name... and it isn't something I'm fond of. When the templars took me to Ferelden, I would not tell them my name out of resentment at first, but then they called me Anders - one from the Anderfels - and I thought why not, it was a new start, why not leave my name behind... since my parents were dead anyway. What a thought for a seven year old..." He smirked. "I don't know if Linus is still alive."
"You chose a name that connects you to that frozen land every time someone speaks it," Lucanis inclined his head. "Anders. You carry the Anderfels with you wherever you go, even to your home in Ferelden. The Soldier's Peak is frozen too - it fits. But in the Anderfels you no longer need to be reminded. Linus isn't dead, he's just been waiting to return."
"I want my name to be known in case we perish," Anders nodded. "Anders, Mage of the Circle of Ferelden, Anders of the Order of the Grey of Ferelden, Linus Kristavssen of the Anderfels. That one has no titles."
It was still the early hours of the morning but neither of them could sleep any more. Lucanis got up and started making coffee.
"It isn't the first time you're going after the Blight," he said, shooting a glance at Anders. "But this Blight seems different."
"It is," Anders nodded. "The song has changed - the song of the Blight that I hear, that every Grey Warden hears. This Blight is going to test me on every level - as a mage, as a Warden, as a leader... that last one is a first for me, and that worries me the most."
"A good leader gets help, and that's what you've been doing," Lucanis pointed out. "Your team - yes, it is your team and not Varric's or Dorian's. We follow you, we stay because of you."
"It's ironic, really," Anders smirked. "Because I am Dorian's slave."
"He bought you out to save your life, no?" Lucanis shook his head. "So yes, officially, by Tevinter laws, you are his slave - in Tevinter only. But Dorian does not see you as a slave, and we all know that."
"Yeah... So I had to be bought out, or else I'd be dead." Anders tensed up, self-doubt eating at him. "How many times Wolf came to my rescue? I lost count. Wolf left, and now it's Dorian who stepped in, but the point remains - I have to be rescued. I always mess things up."
"And if you didn't keep sewing me up after that dragon fight, I'd be dead too," Lucanis reminded him. "And when Illario nearly killed Spite. And when we were going through the villa and through Zara's house - without you, I'd be long dead for sure. People need help sometimes," he smiled. "You get in trouble because you always walk the edge."
"Which is not something a leader should do!"
"Oh, I don't know," Lucanis squinted. "It really depends. In the case of this Blight, safety will get you nowhere. You are exactly the right man for the job."
They returned to Minrathous at the first light. The Pavus Manor was still asleep when they entered, and again Lucanis' response was to start making coffee. Soon the residents started getting up.
Dorian was the first to appear and signal the butler that breakfast should be hearty and served immediately. He wasn't a Grey Warden, but he still knew that something was afoot. Davrin arrived the previous evening without saying a word, and that put Dorian on edge.
"It's time," Anders nodded when Dorian asked about the Blight. "We've all heard the song."
"That explains Davrin," Dorian agreed. "But should we send word to the others? Taash and Harding are somewhere in Nevarra."
"I would be much surprised if they didn't turn up here today," Anders smiled. "Neither of them is a Grey Warden, but Harding still has connections, and I think she would have been informed. What of the others?"
"Emmrich and Bellara are here," Dorian looked around as if expecting them to enter the breakfast room any moment. "Neve... what do you want to do with Neve?" He looked at Lucanis.
"Neve is a traitor," Lucanis said coldly. "Set her loose and watch. She'll betray us at some point, and who she betrays us to will be more important than she herself. I shall kill her then."
"As you wish," Dorian nodded. "We shall set her free." He fumbled in the pockets of his robe looking for something, and Anders took advantage of the pause. He embraced Dorian and kissed him, disregarding the surprise.
"Thank you," Anders said. "Master."
"What..?" Dorian looked dazed, it was too early in the morning. "Master..? Oh right, yes, here, this is for you." He finally found what he was looking for - an official scroll with a seal of the Tevinter Magisterium. "I should have done it sooner. I do apologise for the delay."
It was a document declaring that Anders was no longer a slave of Dorian Pavus but a free man, no financial compensation required.
"We never thought you considered him a slave," Lucanis said, seeing the document. "And now it is official."
"That's not what I meant," Anders smiled. "Although thank you for that too."
"He meant us." Lucanis stood right behind him.
"For opening our minds." Anders still held Dorian in an embrace and he kissed him again, looking into his eyes.
"I... well... I am happy for the two of you," Dorian smiled. "Life isn't always clear-cut, is it?" He hugged Anders. "So, what now?"
"Now we go after the Blight," Anders suddenly looked serious. "Are you coming? We could use a mage of your power."
"Like in the old days, eh?" Dorian grinned. "Of course I'm coming. Varric too, he's been polishing his crossbow for several days already. We're with you, Anders," he added reassuringly.
"We should wait for everyone to assemble," Lucanis nodded. "Spite will open a portal to the old Grey Warden Head Quarters. He's got everything ready."
"Well," Dorian looked pleasantly surprised. "I am glad, Lucanis. It could not have been easy to accept."
"You have no idea," Lucanis said with a frown.
...
It was a grey cold mid-morning of the following day when Anders and his team stepped out of a portal in the middle of the ruined Grey Warden Head Quarters in the Anderfels. The portal closed and a spectral crow landed on Lucanis' shoulder. Davrin shot it a sideways glance and shivered. Azzan flapped his wings but didn't take flight. Emmrich smiled and nodded.
"Wardens?" Someone called to them from further in. "Who goes there?"
"Wardens Anders and Davrin with friends," Anders replied loudly. "Good to see someone is paying attention."
"There are just a few of us here," an elderly Warden approached. "Not really fit to fight after... you know," he shook his head. "But we keep watch. You heard the song, I take it?"
"It's hard to miss," Anders nodded.
"You should go to the other Keep," the Warden continued. "Antoine is there, they've had a lot of fighting. The Blight is on the move."
"Why there?" Anders squinted. "And not here, for example?"
"What's here is no longer important," the Warden shrugged. "Not to the Blight, that is. A bunch of old books is all that's left. Oh yes, and the Archdemon blood in the vaults... But if the Blight has a new living Archdemon, they don't care for the old blood in the vaults."
"The other Keep doesn't have anything special, but there are Grey Warden Vaults nearby," Davrin nodded. "The ones that keep the artefacts from all past Blights. They are said to be huge... a fortress in itself. No idea what's in there, we were never allowed in..."
"Who's guarding them?" Anders looked worried.
"No one..." Davrin shrugged. "Well, traps... you can't actually get in."
"Unless you really want to," Anders looked somber. "You've been to the Deep Roads? No? Well..."
"Deep Roads entrances are marked on this map," the elderly Warden handed Anders an old map with hand-made markings. "These..." he pointed out two or three, "...are just near the old Vaults here. There may be some inside as well. Take it. I have no need of it any more, I can find them in my sleep."
Anders thanked the Warden and took the map. He noticed black veins running along the Warden's wrist - he must have been hearing the song loud and clear, yet chose to resist for as long as he could. He didn't have much longer to live.
"Do you have enough mixtures for the pain?" Anders started offloading vials from his pack.
"We do, keep them," the Warden stopped him. "Take them where the fighting is. We'll manage back here. Come bury us if you survive - this is our last Blight."
"You have no mixtures, do you?" Anders squinted and shook his head but put the vials back into his pack. "Keep records. What is your name?"
"Roderik," the Warden replied. "Markus and Linus are back there, they don't walk very well, Anders of Ferelden..."
"Linus Kristavssen of the Anderfels," Anders said softly. "Your comrade's namesake. Tell him... there's another Linus with the Wardens."
"Good luck to you, Warden of the Anderfels," Roderik smiled. "Good luck to you too, Warden Davrin," he turned to Davrin who was listening with horror. "Let's hope you'll live to see black veins appear under your own skin, many years from now..."
...
"That Warden is all but consumed by the blight," Davrin was saying in a hushed voice as they were walking towards the other Keep. "Have you seen his veins? Yes, of course you have..." he shivered. "He must be in agony!"
"And yet he keeps to his duty," Anders pointed out. "Roderik, Markus and Linus... we must remember them."
"I can't imagine what it must be like... the song must be overwhelming," Davrin was still in shock.
"At this stage of blight consumption the pain almost blots out the song," Anders said quietly. "It varies from person to person... but that's what most of them report."
"You've seen a lot of dying Wardens, haven't you?" Davrin suddenly realised that Anders was a healer.
"No, I've seen only some, in the Deep Roads. The ones that went down fighting, at much earlier stages of the blight. I've seen a lot of blighted people though. At some point no mixture is strong enough to stop the pain..."
"What did you do?" Davrin stopped dead.
"It depends what they wanted," Anders stopped too, facing him. "Some wanted death, which I granted, others... well, it depends."
"Others wanted to join Grey Wardens to stop their blight," Davrin guessed. "Which you did not grant?" He raised an eyebrow.
"It's the wrong reason to join Grey Wardens," Anders' eyes were hard. "But it wasn't my decision. I put them in contact with whoever was in charge locally. Not many survive the Joining when they are so far gone."
"And those that do?" Davrin wanted to know. "Does it really stop their blight?"
"It doesn't, no," Anders shook his head. "But it slows it down and takes away most of the pain. It's like they get a boost, like they can go on for a while longer before succumbing to it. Like the Blight in the Archdemon's blood that hey drink combines with their own making them stronger... That's the terrifying thought - self-healing Blight. Antoine has been studying it..."
"Antoine is one of those Grey Wardens who joined because he was blighted," Davrin pointed out, resuming walking.
"Yes, and in Antoine's case my reservations don't hold," Anders nodded. "He is a true Warden."
"As opposed to false Wardens?" Davrin didn't agree with those reservations. "We are all Wardens, Anders, regardless why we joined. Many simply get conscripted by the Rite, whether they like it or not."
"A good Warden-Commander does not force anyone to join Grey Wardens," Anders shot Davrin a glance. "The recruit must understand what he's getting into! How did you get conscripted?"
"I got bored," Davrin shrugged and grinned. "Growing up in the forests of Tevinter... I am Dalish, you see," he stroked his elven ears. "There was nothing to do! It's either hunt the deer or tend to the halla... and I wanted action! Monster hunting! So I came here to the Head Quarters and asked to join. And was accepted."
"I see," Anders didn't sound surprised. "And has it been everything you hoped for?"
"Up until the Head Quarters got clobbered... yes," Davrin sighed. "The actual Blight is ugly."
"It is."
They walked in silence for a while and the turrets of the old Keep were already appearing in the distance when Davrin finally dared to ask his question.
"I know we didn't start out well... I behaved like a dunderhead," he said somewhat awkwardly. "But why did you join, Anders?"
"I was rescued by the Wardens," he answered simply. "I was going to be made tranquil, but one Warden went out of his way to save my life. Then I knew where I belonged."
"Wow! That's romantic..." Davrin whistled.
"It didn't feel very romantic at the time, I assure you," Anders smirked. "But in essence that's what it was," he concluded just as they were walking up the steps of the Keep. "Antoine!" He cried to someone within. "Reinforcements have arrived!"
A tired-looking elf met them at the top of the stairs.
"Hello, my friend," he smiled to Anders. "Come - it's quiet for the moment. Let me tell you about the new song of the Blight..."
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