Dragon Age: The Anchor
By: TheWildFool2011
(I do not own Dragon Age series nor its characters...well can I say I owned my custom Dalish Inquisitor? Ah, never mind. Let the after story begin!)
Here Lies My End
Ever heard of the tale of the Inquisitor? An elf he was, not just any ordinary everyday elf...a Dalish! Yeah, he was angry when he woke up to the amazing view of a couple of swords. Too damn bad it's wasn't darkspawn in tutu's holding those swords...maybe he would have laughed. Born a hero? There's no such damn thing. Growing into hero shoes? Shit, if the Hero of Fereldan can make it happen and Hawke can do so, then why not? Am I getting too ahead of myself or am I going nowhere with this? Okay, first thing is his clan name is Lavellan (he says fuck any other clan who trys to claim him, or at least the look on his face did) birth name, Faelon. And no I don't know the meaning, anyway as much as I'd love to go through the whole story...the Inquisitor threatened to singe my chest hair off...can't have that happening...
Funny thing Chuckles is missing. And then there is the Orlesian Empire becoming an enemy and not holding up to their agreement...we also can't forget the many assassination attempts on the Inquisitors life.
You know I talked to him one time after the first assassination attempt, it was a bloody fucking mess...he appeared not to be worried at all I asked, "Why?"
He goes onto say, "The voices told me to have no fear, should I meet my end at the blade of an assassin."
Heh, not even just that...the mark on his hand, what'd they call it...the Anchor? That thing seems to be the only true threat to his life. It's been a year since Chuckles went missing, two months since the ending of the very last rift. (Fucking things were everywhere, they spread into the Tevinter Imperium. And since Faelon was faithfully in bumps with Magistrate sparkles, he couldn't just leave them to get swallowed up by a horde of shit hungry demons) The mages say that there is no way to cure him of the mark, that it will only continue to spread until it's host is dead. If the stories of a Wardens end tale is terrifying, and Hawke's demise in the fade is a heartbreaker...then this must be the most depressing one of them all...
"Inquisitor, a message has arrived for you."
Faelon looked up from his paperwork. "Ah! Let's hope this is not another marriage proposal?" He laughed a little with a small smile. Cullen nervously wrinkled his brow as he silently awaited. "Now let's see here..."
"Inquisitor Lavellan have you..." Josephine stopped when she noticed Cullen standing to the side, "There you are! You delivered the letters? Where are they?"
"The Inquisitor has them..." Cullen replied with slight worry.
Josephine tapped her quill pen against her clipboard. Sighing in frustration she shook her head, "Why? We've been through this more than twenty times!"
Cullen turned to look at her, "You've actually counted all the times...?" Josephine glared at him. He was sure that if she was a mage, she'd have set him on fire by now.
"You," she pointed almost in a threatening manner, "And me. Talk later." She huffed and turned her attention to see the smirk fall from Faelon's face.
He stood quickly and slammed his fist against the table, "Cullen, what sort of bullshit is this?! Is this a joke? Cause if so, it is not funny. And this person has horrible elvish...could hardly read this shit!"
"Then the worst has been confirmed." Cullen muttered, as he gripped tightly at the hilt of his sword. "Before I brought this to you, I had a Dalish elf translate it. Josephine does that answer your question? Why the mail was brought directly to Lavellan? I couldn't find you. Anyway, he would not tell me what the writing said, only gathering a small group – warriors and hunters alike." He grimanced slightly, "I came to you directly to confirm my worries."
"Wait, wait, wait...what does the letter say exactly?" Josephine asked sternly.
Faelon sighed heavily, "It'll be tad choppy but, it says; 'Dareth da'len. Dar el elgar, na lin mi numin ma serannas. Dareth shiral na aravel lin suledin shem sulevin halam. Sahlin sa sulevin then.'"
"I'll spread the alert out to the troops." Cullen began to walk towards the door.
"No, no, no. Absolutely not!" Josephine demanded as she tapped her foot against the cold stone floor.
Cullen looked over his shoulder, "And why not? Are you the commander?"
"No, I am not. However, I can point out a main reason why alerting the troops will doom the Inquisitor. If you do that without knowing your target, then you will be in circles. The Inquisitor would be vulnerable to any attempts on his life." She looked over at Faelon, "Not saying that you can't handle yourself Lord Lavellan, but with your failing health..."
"Would it truly matter Josephine?" Faelon ran his fingers through his thick hair, "We will send word. Meet up in the war room." He turned his back and sighed heavily, "You are both dismissed."
"But Inquisitor—"
"I said dismissed, Commander Cullen..." Faelon raised his voice and clentched his teeth.
Cullen quickly bowed, "As you are Inquisitor."
"Lord Lavellan, I shall alert our scout. If that is agreed?" Josephine waited patiently and received a nod from the tired elf. "Right, then as you are my Lord..." She frowned as she walked away silently muttered to herself, "Leliana, we need you the most and yet, you have given your duties to the Chantry as the new divine...Faelon needs his spy master back."
Faelon crumpled the paper up and threw it across the room. He slammed his fist on his desk and he gritted his teeth as he slowly slide down into a sitting position. He sank into his thoughts, giving into the voices in his head. "You tell me to not be afraid. Not to feel fear, but my death will come. By dagger or by anchor...I'm slowly dying. I will not turn my back on those who need me."
A sharp pain ran from the mark of his hand straight to his heart. "Ngh!" He cradled his hand against his chest, as gasped for air – desperate to fill his burning lungs. "Dammit..." He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. The others held no understanding of why the anchor was causing him so much pain, but he did. It was the veil being stressed by the creatures of the fade. Each time they would press against the veil – it felt like someone was stabbing him multiple times and twisting.
In a way, he hoped the pain would all end and he could find peace in death. However, with Solas at large, the Inquisition would deem him a threat until he is finally captured.
