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Dragon Age: The Blood Within

Chapter 1: The Blightender, Part I

9:38 Dragon, Vigil's Keep, month of Cloudreach 13

The Blightender sat upon her throne, with a massive headache building up in her temples.

Lyna Mahariel of the Dalish Sabrae Clan, Commander of the Grey, and Arlessa of Amaranthine, fought the urge to grab at the bridge of her nose, close her eyes and let off what would undoubtedly be an undiplomatic sigh as she forced herself to look upon her audience, a gathering of Banns, landowners, and businessmen who had attended court at Vigil's Keep. The Warden-Commander held court one day out of every ten, and it was easily the day she regretted and despised the most. Every day that she held court, those of her Arling could beseech for her aid, justice, or attention for the going-ons in her lands. Unfortunately, Lyna had come to find that the shemlen of her Arling seemed unable to solve any problems on their own, and foisted every issue they could come with on her.

The Dalish Huntress would rather face the Archdemon Urthemiel again than play this farce any longer.

Lyna looked over to her right, where stood Veral, her stalwart Seneschal; he did well to not appear to be obvious when he rolled his eyes. To her left was Nathaniel Howe, Grey Warden and once an heir to the very Arling that she now ruled. Everything about the Dalish Huntress and the Noble Human should have put them at odds; she had killed his father, after all. Yet Nathaniel had quickly become a trusted friend, and no slouch to Human politics himself. He stood in his place as Warden-Constable; her second-in-command. She made him come to court as well for two reasons; for his knowledge and expertise on the Arling of Amaranthine, and to remind the people that would come to see her that she wasn't just some Elf on the Amaranthine Throne, but to have them see that a Howe was involved as well. The Howe family had ruled Amaranthine for hundreds of years, since the Avvars once ruled the land, and though it had been seven years since she 'inherited' the Arling and Vigil's Keep, she still had to deal with the nobles that once sympathized with the lat Arl Rendon Howe. Or resented seeing a woman on the Throne. Or a Grey Warden. Or, most likely, an Elf.

The headache wasn't going away, nor would it anytime soon.

The person who was calling upon her was none other than Reverend Mother Josephine Gallineaux, the Head of Amaranthine's Chantry. Having come to the post only the year before, the older woman had quickly inserted herself into the affairs of the Banns and business owners, wielding religious obligations and Chantry law like a thug with a cudgel. That the woman was Orlesian to the bone didn't help matters; too many in Ferelden remembered all to well the Occupancy, and having an indignant, outspoken Reverend Mother accosting people out in the streets of Amaranthine under a thick knot of Templar bode ill-will to all. Lyna herself wasn't unscathed from the woman's prudish attention. One of Mother Gallineaux's first acts was to create an outcry about 'heathen leaders' that thought themselves outside Chantry law. Regardless of the fact that Lyna donated a good sum of money every year to the shemlen religion on principle, Mother Gallineaux was quick to cast the first stone on how the Arlessa had never once attended services in the Chantry, nor participated in mass. The Dalish Elf didn't think that the good Reverend Mother had bothered looking into the records to ascertain the fact that when the Darkspawn had ravished Amaranthine six years before, it had be she who had funded the reconstruction of the Chantry, as well as the hiring of masons and construction workers to do just that. No one had ever made an issue of it before; it only took a single glance at her long, pointed ears, or the vassaslin tattooed upon her forehead and cheeks to realize that Lena Mahariel was not, nor ever going to be, a believer in Andraste, or her Heavenly Husband, the Maker. No one had ever said a word when she had planted a Vhenadahl in the courtyard of Vigil's Keep, and she had never suffered one look when she went to its boughs to feel its bark, to listen to the wind tangle through its leaves, or to write upon her journal the lessons she learned at the Hahren's lap, to keep in touch with her origins. It hadn't been an issue, of course, since none dared to cross words or swords with the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, the one who had killed the Archdemon and ended the Fifth Blight in less than a year. It didn't hurt that Velanna would happily burn any mocking shemlen to a crisp if they had dared.

Reverend Mother Josephine Gallineaux dared, evidently.

"So what say you?" The odious woman demanded, having not once called Lyna by either her name or her title. Not that the Warden-Commander liked being called 'Arlessa'; to her, it always sounded as if it had the undertone of 'fraud' in it. Most called her Commander, which the Dalish Huntress was more than fine with. Yet this shemlen woman did neither, and it made the woman responsible for saving Ferelden seethe in anger. Yet she didn't dare raise a hand against Reverend Mother Josephine Gallineaux, no matter how odious the woman was. Any action against her would undoubtedly be seen as a move against the Chantry, and Lyna didn't need to imagine the consequences to follow; she knew them well enough. Tossing her into a jail, using words to harsh, or just speaking her mind would undoubtedly get back to the Bannorn, not to mention the Landsmeet as well. Lyna despised Human politics, yet her life revolved around them. Thus, the headache.

"Reverend Mother," Lyna said evenly, working hard to keep her temper in check as she leaned forward upon her throne, "while your opinion and mine may differ significantly, I will say this only once; fail to address me properly again, and I shall invoke the Writ of Conscription, as by Ferelden law, failure to address any Ferelden nobility is a capital offense and punishable by death. I will then have you guard the basement… where a portion of the Deep Roads lay. You can then offer your opinion to the Darkspawn. I'm sure they would love to have a debate with you." Varel make a choking noise in his throat, and Nathaniel grunted as Lyna's eyes stayed onto the blue-grey eyes of Reverend Mother Josephine Gallineaux, unwavering. The older woman, to her credit, didn't flinch, though even she seemed to sense that she had overstepped her bounds. A member of the Chantry was still subject to Ferelden law, and could be punished for it. Regardless that it almost never happened, the threat still existed, and was still there. The added bonus of the Writ of Conscription wold remove her from the Chantry's Order, as the Chantry had long since defined what it thought of Grey Wardens, excommunicating all members who Joined. If Lyna made good her threat, the Reverend Mother of Amaranthine would find herself without her position or the church's protection. Sure, there would be repercussions against Lyna and Vigil's Keep, but perhaps the Church would take a cue that Warden-Commander Lyna Mahariel would not suffer a fool.

"Warden-Commander." The odious woman finally said, with as much venom as she could muster in a breath, which was a considerable amount. Still, the woman capitulated, and the Dalish Huntress long since resigned herself into appreciating the smaller victories that she begrudgingly earned, as oppose to the big ones that were so rare and far in between. "Do you have an answer?"

"I do, Reverend Mother." Lyna sat back in her throne, letting her temper cool as she looked over to Nathaniel, the Warden-Constable merely giving her a small shrug of her shoulders. "As you wish for me to attend your services in the Chantry of Andraste, I believe it to be a good idea. I would learn much about the people that I protect by learning of their religion. After all, Shartan and the elves of Arlathan did side with Andraste in her quest for freedom against the Tevinter Empire on the promise of the Dales that the Church seems to have lapsed upon in remembering." That statement had another grunt from Varel, who undoubtedly knew exactly what Lyna was referring to; Andraste herself had promised Shartan the Dalish Lands for their help in overthrowing their Tevinter masters… lands that the Orlesians had overthrown in an Exalted March during the Glory Age and now occupied, forcing the Elves to forever wander without a home. "But for one who speaks of religious equality and education, your cause has two edges. I request that a Chantry Sister serve for the Vigil's Keep Chapel, for the men who serve the Chantry but have not the time nor ability to make the journey to Amaranthine to conduct their worships. Your Sister will conduct services not only for the Bride of your Maker, but also for those here whom worship a different religion. As the Dwarves revere the Stone in which they come from, she will act as a Shaperate of Memory, recording their names and deeds, and any other services that they may require. As the Elves revere the Creators in which we come from, she will act as an assistant to the Keeper of Vigil's Keep, copying elvhen lore and tending to the Vhenadahl."

"But… that's… I will do no such thing!" Spittle flew from the Reverend Mother's mouth as she shouted, her shemlin face turning the color of beets as she stood in a position of anger and fury; her fists clenched, taking a step forward in an aggressive manner. No other step was taken as a deep growl was heard from Lyna's faithful mabari hound, Fen'Harel. Like Varel and Nathaniel, Fen'Harel was a constant companion during court, taking residence at the foot of the throne by Lyna's feet. The Dalish Huntress had rescued the mabari hound during Ostagar, and had been her faithful companion ever since she had picked a couple of flowers from the Kokari Wilds to save him from Blight poisoning. He came with another added benefit; any true Ferelden loved the mabari hound, and the sight of Fen'Harel had always had the Banns a little more lenient towards her, as if being imprinted by a mabari meant that she couldn't be all that bad. Besides, no one in their right mind wanted to tangle with a war hound that weighed half again as much as a shemlen man. So when the mabari's head turned toward the Reverend Mother, his hackles raised and teeth bared in preparation for defense of his mistress, the older woman stopped what she was doing immediately, her eyes looking right at the war hound with a good deal more than a little trepidation.

"Atisha, Fen'Harel!" The Warden-Commander ordered the mabari hound, speaking in elvhish, ordering him at peace. The mabari complied, ceasing to growl, yet Fen'Harel's eyes stayed on the Reverend Mother, as oppose to its former position of his front paws. Mother Gallineaux didn't miss the sight of that as her face lost its red color, and quickly became a good deal paler.

"Reverend Mother, I am surprised at your response; I would think that the Chantry would be more than happy to serve its brave men and women who defend the Arling and its people. I must admit that I am quite disappointed with your answer. But if that is your wish…" Lyna let her words trail off, and her headache lessened slightly as she watched the older woman who stood in front of her turn purple with rage and indignation at the concession that the Warden-Commander had named. It was a good ploy, one that had come from Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe, one that would give her the upper hand on the Reverend Mother. If the Chantry leader wished to play the religious card, then why couldn't the Arlessa of Amaranthine? Denying a Sister for Vigil's Keep would make the Reverend Mother look not only fearful, but betraying the very charges that she sought to rise up against the Dalish Arlessa. Two can play at this game, Harrelen. Lyna thought smugly, thinking the epitaph perfect for her; a trickster. "If you will not provide for us for our secular needs, then who will?"

"Fine!" The Reverend Mother flipped her hand towards the woman on the throne, turning her head in disgust, obviously realizing that Lyna had won that round. "I shall detail a Sister for her detail at Vigil's Keep. If only for the souls of those worth saving. Warden-Commander." Josephine Gallineaux spat out the title as if it were a foul thing, no one able to doubt whom the Reverend Mother thought might be worth saving… and who might not be. "By your leave, Arlessa." The Reverend Mother dipped in the faintest of curtsies, something that Lyna never forced anyone to do, and the older woman spun on her heel, walking out of the Vigil's Hall towards the four Templar who seemed to be by the Orlesian woman's side whenever she wasn't in the Chantry proper. Undoubtedly, the fully-armored men were seething as well, being unarmed.

It was a rule that Varel and Nathaniel had pressed Lyna to enforce to avoid assassination attempts. The Dalish Huntress didn't get it; Antivan Crows were notorious for killing anyone, no matter well protected, and she didn't want to seem like a tyrant like Loghain Mac Tir or Rendon Howe. But for the Templars, she did enforce the fact, if only due to the mages that lived in the Keep. Though none were present in the Hall, the Warden-Commander always made sure that her band of mages were kept well away from the possible presence of Chantry goons whenever they were around. Like the mages, the Dalish had no cause to love the Chantry or the Templars, but after becoming a Grey Warden, Lyna Mahariel had learned a good many things about the Chantry that made her truly think that something was deeply wrong with the shemlen running the Church of Andraste. With a nod of Lyna's head, she silently ordered one of her clan to escort the Reverend Mother and her Templars off the Keep's lands. The one she nodded to silently complied, needing no other for assistance. Who was going to try their luck against an eight-foot golem, anyhow? Lyna watched as Shale left the Hall with her charges, and knowing the less-than sparkling personality of the uncontrolled golem, would probably tell them just how squishy a Templar could be in a tin can suit.

"Commander, have you taken a leave of your senses?" Varel was quick to ask as soon as the Hall door closed, the Senshal rounding on the woman on the Throne with an incredulous look upon his face. "Yes, the woman is an ass, and an Orlesian to boot, but threatening her…"

"…Was the right thing to do, ma falon." Lyna replied wearily, slumping in the throne, rubbing at the bridge of her nose as if it would help the splitting headache that she had acquired. "She all but incites civil unrest amongst the people of Amaranthine, and rebellion among the Bannorn and business owners against me. If she were the Reverend Mother herself, I would have had her depart this Arling immediately under suspicion of being an Orlesian instigator and spy; truthfully, it might even come to that. The only reason I haven't is that I suspect that is exactly what the Divine wants me to do; I am, after all, an Elf and a Grey Warden sitting upon a throne. She can't do it to Alistair without bringing more problems between Orlais and Ferelden. I, on the other hand, am an Elf, and most of the Bannorn and Arls hate me on principle alone."

"I wouldn't put it past the Orlesians to do something that slippery." Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe imputed wirily, an impish grin upon his face as he took a seat upon a small divan set near the throne of the Arling. "You might have just come up with the Divine's plan on your own in a few words. It isn't a bad plan, and it would require delicacy to root out."

"You mean I shouldn't have threaten her with the Joining?" Lyna commented in an off-hand manner, finished with rubbing her nose when she confirmed that her headache wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Nathaniel chuckled at the comment while Varel merely sighed, no doubt still thinking of the implications of that particular incident. "That woman is putting far too many steps towards 'conspirator' and 'insurrectionist'." The Warden-Commander said wearily, looking back and forth from Nathaniel, to Senchal Varel, then back to Nathaniel. "I needed to remind her that just because she is a Reverend Mother does not give her free reign to plot and ploy under my nose without fear of repercussion. I simply had to find the right kind of barb in which to dangle in front of her nose to show that she is in my territory, not I in hers."

"Well played." Howe replied with a smile.

"I… agree, Commander." Varel said, rolling his head around, his neck giving off a few audible pops. "Diplomacy sometimes calls for the olive branch, and other times the spear. She has shown you her teeth the moment she stepped off that Orlesian boat, and you have done well to tread carefully about the issue, to avoid inflaming the people. The issues she has raised never bothered the populous before. Maker's breath, what Ferelden doesn't know that the Commander of the Grey and Arlessa of Amaranthine isn't a Dalish Elf? No one expects you to set foot into a Chantry. The fact that you fully funded in its reconstruction for the people's benefit just shows the kind of person you are. Andraste Herself would be pleased with the things you've done for Maker and Ferelden, and you've got no reason to do either. Maker preserve me, you've got good reasons not to!"

"You don't have to remind me. Velanna does that well enough on her own." Lyna laughed, getting both Seneschal Varel and Nathaniel Howe to chuckle as well, thinking of the antagonistic Dalish Keeper who was the Senior Warden-Enchanter for Ferelden. "Still, it felt good to put that woman in her place. She gets any worse, and I'm afraid to ask if anyone will get rid of this meddlesome priest."

"Not a road you want to walk on." Nathaniel replied softly, making both the Blightender and her Seneschal nod their heads in agreement. "I'll see if I can scare up some of my dregs to keep an eye on the good Reverend Mother. It could very well be that Gallineaux might have more orders from the Divine than just to be the leader of the Chantry of Our Lady Redeemer, or even from the Empress herself. Like any red-blooded Ferelden, I am of the strict opinion that the fewer Orlesians, the better. That woman can twist many ears her way, and with the Orlesian Civil War and what happened in Kirkwall…" Howe's voice dropped off completely as his face screwed up in obvious failure s Lyna Mahariel's face darkened. Even Varel looked as if he had eaten something sour. "I am sorry, Commander…"

"It wasn't your fault, Nate." The Warden-Commander of Ferelden sighed, leaning back on her throne, the very sight of defeat. It was an spoken rule around Vigil's Keep not to mention Ander's name around the Commander of the Grey, especially after the events of Kirkwall the year before. Lyna had already sent letters to all the various Warden-Commanders in Thedas expressing that no Grey Warden should offer any aid, labeling him a deserter. After what happened to the Chantry of Kirkwall… "If you gentlemen would excuse me, I would like some solidarity to reflect upon the day's events. Seneschal, you know where to find me if there is any need…"

"Myself or Warden-Constable Howe will be more than capable of handling things." Varel assured the Dalish Elf, who merely nodded in response. "Tend to your tree and your Gods in peace, Commander. Maker knows we could use as much peace as we can get, these days."

A/N: Just a Warm-up. No plot explained.