This story is dedicated to the wonderful Gene Dark; if not for her curiosity about Lhiannon, a number of my one-shots (and this story) would never have seen the light of day. I hope this story answers your questions about Lhi, Gene! Thanks so much for all your support! {Hugs!}
I also have to give a great many thanks to both Shakespira and Tyanilth for their generous support and vociferous cheerleading. It's much appreciated and I love you both for it!
Readers, do yourselves a huge favor and check out the stories that my friends above have written. Gene's "Death and The Maiden," Shakespira's "Lion" trilogy and "With Noble Intent", and Tyanilth's "The Hourglass" and it's various one-shots are phenomenal reads and are some of my personal favorites.
If you have not read my one-shots "Hide Me" and "The Releasing", you may want to give those a quick look before beginning here. I've briefly referenced both early on in this chapter.
It goes without saying that Bioware owns all and I'm just a fan with an imagination. Spoilers for "The Stolen Throne" and "The Calling" will be littered throughout the story. And they start early. :)
It is often said that one must be careful what one wishes for, for it may come to pass. The irony of such a statement did not escape Lhiannon Amell, a teenager from western Ferelden who often wished for her life to take a different path than the one her parents had planned for her. Her parents, Roddick and Iris, arranged to dedicate their daughter to the service of the Chantry, preparing her to honor the Maker as a Chanter of His word. Her brother Edwin was also being prepared for the Maker's service; a templar, in his case. Her parents saw the dedication of their only son and daughter to the Maker's service both a blessing and a sacred duty, the highest praise and devotion they could offer; gestures of piety and sacrifice that they hoped may play a small part in convincing the Maker to return to His faithful.
All that changed when Lhiannon, in a scream of anguish, pain, and fear, encased her father in a block of ice as he whipped her for not memorizing her daily lessons in the Chant of Light.
In the span of six days, Lhiannon's life had turned upside down, a tale of extreme opposites. At one end, she was being prepared for her dedication to the Chantry and a lifetime of speaking naught but the Chant of Light. It was not how she wanted to spend her life, but she felt powerless to change the path she was set upon. The other end saw her dragged to Kinloch Hold by the ropes tightly binding her wrists. She was a mage, a creature that those of her village feared and hated as the beings that drove the Maker from His children.
Lhiannon wondered in those first few days at Kinloch Hold why her father had not simply tied her to the stake and burned her as he, her brother, and the other men of the village had burned an apostate mage just days before her powers manifested. There was no answer that she could discern, no reason she could think of for her father sparing her from the ritual they called "The Releasing." He had loudly disowned her, calling her an abhorrence of the Maker as her hands were bound and she was led away by a surly templar. It was as if he were ashamed his own child could betray him by becoming a mage.
As if she had any say in the matter.
Fear and a crushing loneliness surrounded her in those days immediately after her abilities manifested. She felt utterly alone as was escorted to Kinloch Hold, abandoned by the Maker to whatever fate awaited mages in a world ruled by the Chant of Light and hatred for those who were one step away from becoming demonic abominations. She was given a black eye, struck by the templar escorting her for speaking out of turn; forced to walk beside his horse, hungry and thirsty, as he took her to her fate. The templars watched her warily as she was brought into Kinloch Hold and turned over to a senior mage, apparently waiting for her inevitable transformation into an abomination right before their eyes. Lhiannon could have sworn that the templar who escorted her to the Circle was disappointed that she had not shown any signs of possession. Even among those who had the same abilities as her, she felt lost, adrift in a vast sea to be swept away by the current.
When she met Anders, the loneliness vanished. They became fast friends after Lhiannon hid a fleeing Anders from the templars that pursued him for shocking one of them in the ear. Anders was easy to like and he had gone out of his way to help Lhiannon become acclimated to her new home.
He was close to her age, tall and scrawny like so many teenage boys still growing into their own bodies. He wore his hair long—which seemed to annoy the templars to no end—and had a boisterous, mischievous side to him that left her in a constant state of giggles while leaving the senior enchanters and templars in states varying from mild annoyance to outright resentment. Lhiannon had been pulled aside by more than one enchanter and templar as she explored the halls of her new home, warning her to stay away from the disruptive influence of the young man. Even First Enchanter Remille had warned Lhiannon to limit her time spent with the troublesome Anders.
Reveling in a new sense of burgeoning independence, Lhiannon smiled sweetly to all of them and ignored their advice.
Where some of the other mages Lhiannon's own age, especially the girls, looked down on her for being such a late bloomer to the ways of magic, Anders could not care in the least. He quizzed her in the basic lessons of magic and helped her learn to control her burgeoning abilities. When she had difficulty with the healing arts, Anders spent his free time tutoring her in the anatomy of the human body and helped her hone her healing skills. With his help and her determination, her skills began to flourish.
Not long after she arrived at Kinloch Hold, Lhiannon heard of the Grey Wardens for the first time.
The worst part of Senior Enchanter Wynne's healing classes involved the scratches the apprentices had to give to each other so they could be healed. Those apprentices in the healing classes wore a litany of red scratches on their arms in various stages of healing. The left arm was the one the mage himself or herself healed; the right arm the one a partner healed. It was easy to see, based on the scars of the left arm, who was proficient in the healing arts and who was not. Lhiannon had already been identified as a potentially gifted primal mage. On the other hand, her healing skills appeared to be somewhat lacking.
As she counted the red marks on her arms before class began, Lhiannon groaned when her assigned partner for the day was a boy several years younger than her named Niral. Lhiannon found him to be whiny and annoying, complaining about everything from the temperature of the room—always stone cold or blazing hot due to the primal spells class held in the adjoining room—to the scratchiness of his robes. "I have sensitive skin," he complained more than once. Worse, Niral had the nasty habit of shoving his finger two knuckles deep into his nose when he thought no one was looking. When she had first met Niral, Anders told Lhiannon that Niral's name meant "ploughed field" in some ancient dialect. "He's ploughing a field, all right," Anders snickered, pointing a finger at his nose.
Lhiannon shivered involuntarily when Senior Enchanter Wynne assigned him to her that day; just the thought of that finger running across her skin to heal minor scratches nearly caused Lhiannon to gag.
Lhiannon watched Niral extract his finger from his nose when another enchanter breezed into the room excitedly, pulling Enchanter Wynne aside and speaking to her breathlessly. Murmurs began to fill the room as the apprentices watched the conversation.
Niral leaned closer to Lhiannon, wiping his wet finger on the fabric of his robe. "What are they talking about?"
Lhiannon fought to keep her stomach contents in place as she observed a crusty spot on Niral's robe. She brought a hand to her face, attempting to cover her disgusted reaction. "Don't know," she choked out.
Wynne's eyes went wide as the other mage finished speaking. She looked toward the class, clapping her hands together for attention. "Apprentices, come with me. First Enchanter Remille has asked that everyone come to the grand hall to attend a special gathering with the King and the Grey Wardens."
Lhiannon rose from her stool, moving with the other apprentices toward the door. The apprentices buzzed excitedly, some nearly running into the hall to get a glance at the visitors. She paused when she reached Senior Enchanter Wynne's side. The Senior Enchanter had her graying hair pulled into a severe bun at the back of her head. She was rail thin with a pleasant face that was a stark contrast to her stern and seemingly unforgiving nature. Lhiannon had been intimidated by the mage's stern nature at first, but Anders laughed her fears off, saying that Wynne was simply a preachy windbag with her staff firmly placed where the sun did not shine. Ever since Anders put that vision in her head, Lhiannon could not take the Senior Enchanter too seriously. Lhiannon looked at Wynne, opening her mouth to ask about who, or what, Grey Wardens were.
"Apprentice Lhiannon, please keep moving," Wynne said, placing a hand on Lhiannon's back and guiding her toward the door. "You can ask your questions later."
Scoffing loudly and rolling her eyes, Lhiannon followed the other apprentices into the hall, moving through the curved corridors past other classrooms and the grand library on the way to the stairs leading to the grand hall. She was nearing the stairs when she felt a hand grasp her arm and pull her into a darkened doorway.
"Lhi, come with me."
Lhiannon looked up and met Anders' excited gaze with her own, following him into the room behind them. The room was pitch black; Lhiannon could sense the walls close by. What kind of room is this? At the thought, Anders conjured a small wisp, the dim light casting a green glow around them. Lhiannon looked about, seeing that it was a small utility closet that Anders had pulled her into. Brooms and mops hung from hooks in the wall while neatly folded piles of rags adorned several small shelves.
"Andy, what are we doing?"
"We're waiting."
"Waiting for what? I want to go see the King and these Grey Wardens. Whatever they are."
Anders quietly scoffed, pressing his ear to the door and listening to the sounds of the mages moving on the other side. "We will, but we're going to go watch them from somewhere else. I don't want to sit with the little kids or Enchanter Wynne. Do you?"
Lhiannon scoffed, snickering as she did so. "Ah, nooo."
They waited in the near darkness of the closet as the sounds of the mages gradually faded away. With a wave of his hand, Anders snuffed out the small wisp several moments later, opening the door a crack and peeking outside. Satisfied that they were alone in the hallway, he reached back and took Lhiannon by the hand, pulling her out into the hallway. "Come on, Lhi."
"Are we going to the great hall?"
Anders nodded, pulling Lhiannon along at a brisk walk. "Yes, but we have to move quickly so we're not spotted by the templars. There are two galleries at the ends of the great hall, up above the main floor. The mages sit down on the main floor while the templars and priests sit up in the galleries." Anders snorted indignantly as he opened a door along the hallway, revealing a secondary staircase that Lhiannon had not known existed before. Anders led her inside and closed the door behind them. "The templars and priests like to sit high above the mages, reminding us that we are different than they are," he said, pulling Lhiannon toward the stairs and beginning to climb, still holding her hand in his. "It's a constant reminder that we need to be watched and controlled just because of the gift the Maker gave to us."
Lhiannon lowered her head slightly, looking at the hand that was holding the hem of her robe above her feet as they climbed. "I was always taught that mages were offensive to the Maker," Lhiannon said in a small voice, remembering the indoctrination of her home village. She was accepting of who and what she was, but there were still moments of confusion and fear even now, weeks after arriving at Kinloch Hold. "I was taught that mages...we...were the reason the Maker abandoned His people and Andraste was burned at the stake. That magic was a curse and those that have it were less than human."
With a small and angry scoff, Anders jerked Lhiannon to a stop as they reached a small landing between floors of the tower. She gasped in surprise at the force in which he pulled her to a stop. He grasped her chin firmly with his hand, pulling her reluctant gaze up to meet his. Anders studied her for several moments, his eyes boring into hers. Lhiannon felt her heart flutter under his intense gaze and she fought the urge to look away from Anders' apparent anger.
"We are not offensive to the Maker. He gave us the gift of magic; it is not a curse. Do not let the templars, the priests, other mages, or anyone tell you otherwise. You hear me, Lhi? We are no less human than they are."
With a nearly audible swallow, Lhiannon nodded, her eyes wide at Anders' outburst. He released her chin and grinned at her sheepishly. "Sorry," he said, his fair cheeks staining red, "I tend to get a little upset by such things. I meant no offense."
"None taken."
Lhiannon felt Anders take her hand, pulling her up the stairs once more. He set a brisk pace and before long, Lhiannon felt her lungs burning and rivulets of sweat running down the sides of her face. She felt herself slowing, pulling Anders' hand back behind him as her stamina flagged. Anders tugged impatiently at her hand, snickering as he did so. Lhiannon stuck her tongue out at him; he was not even winded. It was hardly fair.
When her heart felt like it was going to finally explode, Anders pulled her to a door off a small landing. Lhiannon ventured a glance back down the narrow stairwell, gasping as she saw the steps disappear far below them into the gloom of the tower. It looked like they were close to the very top. Anders reached out for the handle to the door, crouching low before leaning close and whispering into Lhiannon's ear.
"Keep your voice very low. Everything echoes up here. If we get caught, it's extra duties for sure."
When Anders opened the door, the dim stairwell was filled with light. Lhiannon squinted against the light, her sensitive eyes tearing up before adjusting to the abrupt change. Anders quickly pulled her through the door and quietly shut it behind them. Lhiannon glanced about her, seeing the window at the very top of the domed hall just above them. If Anders stood, he would be able to reach up and touch the outer panes of the window. This balcony was likely place here for that very reason.
They were on a small balcony high above the both the main floor of the hall and the larger balcony where the Chantry priests and templars sat overlooking the mages gathered below. The voice of First Enchanter Remille echoed through the hall, his voice ringing clear even from their height. Wooden spindles separated Lhiannon and Anders from the open space of the hall, the spaces between them close enough to conceal them from view, yet large enough where they could easily peer through them.
Lhiannon lay on her stomach next to Anders as they secretly watched the proceedings, listening to the First Enchanter prattle on about the bravery and honor of the Grey Wardens and their prowess as warriors against the dangers of the darkspawn. She could see a woman in heavy armor standing between the First Enchanter and the senior enchanters, the silver of her armor gleaming as brightly as her stark white hair. Even from this distance, Lhiannon could see that the woman was all warrior, confident and strong in her abilities. She also looked extremely impatient with the pontificating.
Next to her stood a man in resplendent armor, long golden hair spilling over the bright plates that covered his body, his hands clasped behind his back and chin held regally. His expression was neutral, unchanging as First Enchanter Remille droned on about the Grey Wardens. Though he appeared nearly bored to tears, Lhiannon thought she saw a sadness to his features.
Anders nodded toward the guests as the First Enchanter began to call the Grey Wardens forward. "That man in the bright armor with the long, blonde hair? That's King Maric."
"King Maric?" Lhiannon had heard of the King while living in Greenwood Vale, but only in occasional passing. The people of her village were more concerned with matters regarding the Maker and Andraste; the King was viewed as a secular figure and therefore of little importance to their way of life. Since coming to Kinloch Hold, she had heard more about King Maric and how his deceased Queen Rowan and Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir of Gwaren freed Ferelden from Orlesian occupation. King Maric was beloved by his people and more than one girl within the tower had a crush on the handsome King. More than one boy too, truth be told. Lhiannon glanced over at Anders, who was watching the proceedings with rapt interest. She squinted, studying Anders closely. He actually looked a bit like King Maric…though it was hard to tell at this distance. She quickly dismissed the thought. Coincidence.
The First Enchanter called the Grey Wardens up one by one, giving them special broaches that were meant to protect them as they entered the Deep Roads on some sort of expedition. There was a tall, lithe man wearing a hood. A stout female dwarf. A tall man in heavy armor with close cropped hair and a neat mustache and beard. Another tall man in heavy armor; this one with shoulder length blonde hair and clean shaven. There was a petite, dark haired mage with a bright white staff that earned several gasps from the apprentice mages as she passed through the hall. Lastly, the First Enchanter called forward a swarthy young man who appeared to be only a few years older than Lhiannon herself. His eyes—clearly bored with the proceedings—scanned the room as if looking for an escape route.
Lhiannon leaned over to Anders and elbowed him gently in the ribs. "That Grey Warden looks like he wants to escape."
"Can you blame him," Anders snorted quietly, "with all the pontificating Remille is doing, I'd want to escape too."
Finally, the First Enchanter called King Maric forward, handing him a satchel of potions that the First Enchanter said would protect him from some sort of disease that lurked in the Deep Roads. Lhiannon saw Anders shiver from beside her. "Ugh. Must be something nasty in the Deep Roads if the King has to take special tinctures every day."
"I hope I never have to go there," Lhiannon said, wrinkling her nose in disgust. The Deep Roads sounded like a nasty place; she was perfectly happy to stay on this side of the earth and avoid whatever disease lurked there. "I wonder why the Grey Wardens don't have to take the potions?"
Anders shrugged, his robes whispering against his skin. "I don't know. Other than being great fighters and heroes, no one really knows much about them." He rubbed his chin, his skin rasping against the small amount of stubble there. "Maybe we can search the library for more information. They look like normal people to me."
Lhiannon and Anders continued to watch the proceedings from their hidden vantage point, watching as the swarthy Grey Warden quietly moved toward a side door of the hall. The templars standing at the door hardly registered the Warden as he brushed by them.
"He's got the right idea," Anders said, stifling a yawn with his hand.
"Come on, Andy," Lhiannon said, scooting backward toward the door they had emerged from . She was rather bored herself; First Enchanter Remille liked hearing himself talk and, truth be told, his Orlesian accent was as pleasant to her ears as Niral's nose picking was to her eyes. "Let's get out of here before we get caught. I don't want us to be scrubbing floors on our hands and knees for the next month."
This story is meant to be a full prequel of my tale "Rend Asunder", starting from when Lhiannon Amell begins her studies at Kinloch Hold, through the main quests of Dragon Age: Origins, and ending at the fateful Landsmeet. I don't think I'll do every little quest in DA:O, but if there is one you would like to see, please let me know. For now, I plan on hitting the main storyline there as well as the big companion quests.
Lhi is an older Warden by the time she and Loghain cross paths in RA...she's about Anora's age which puts her around thirty. Gene and I have done the math and figured that Lhiannon had either just arrived at Kinloch Hold when the events of "The Calling" took place or had just missed it. I liked the idea of Lhiannon seeing what happened there; I kept that vague in "Rend Asunder" for just this reason.
I decided I wanted Anders close to Lhiannon's age as well, which may make him a few years older than the events of "Awakening." I've always pictured Anders as a little older, especially with all the escape attempts he makes from the Circle and the time he spent in solitary after being captured. I think that as a young boy, escape would have been difficult. As a young man, it becomes more plausible (in my head at least).
The name "Niral" is Hebrew and really means "ploughed field."
"Retribution" will be my main focus but I do hope to update this story a few times a month. We'll see what the muse has to say about that. ;)
I'm completely insane for writing two large stories. O.o
