A/N: DRAGON AGE AU! This was a request from one of my good friends on tumblr, Caleb aka Doriansteel. He requested this story about couple months ago and I finished it just before the release of Dragon Age Inquisition. If you are not familiar with this verse, it's okay. It's almost like a Lord of the Rings with Templars, plethora of rebel mages and dashing ladies with skills to kill.
Dragon Age and Fairy Tail do not belong to me! Dragon Age is by David Gaider and Bioware. Fairy Tail by Mashima Hiro respectively.
Part One: The Dagger
"Next crate!" A burly man shouted down to the loading crew on the rickety pier. The midsummer air thickens as rolling clouds loomed over the Storm Coast. The waves unsteadily rocked against the wooden dock, shifting ever so slightly beneath his heavy boot. Though, it didn't ease the workers around him, desperately trying to get all the cargo into the ship and set sail before the storm claimed them. It only hurried them. The merchant group, Phantom Lord, encouraged by the coin or bounty, didn't care of the noises from the crates nor did the whimpering escape from the burlap covered cages. Not even the unsettling rattle of iron chains from the shaking and frightened bones that they were shackled to.
"Gajeel," A blue haired woman with a dark blue fitted tunic and knee high dirt colored boots said to him. "The Captain wants a word with us." Juvia's dark eyes shifted to a halting screech came from the deck of their ship. He turned his red eyes towards one of the shipmates struggling with what appeared to be an eleven slave.
"Now, why does an elf have a pretty dagger like this one?" The shipmate snickered, eying the curvaceous blade and amber polished hilt. "Shall we see if this knife is sharp enough to cut one of yer knife ears?" The other slaves in the cage were quivering in fear, while the owner of the knife glared at the man.
"Enough," Gajeel climbed the wooden ramp to the deck of the ship with Juvia following right behind him. "She's cargo. And so are the rest of them!" Gajeel shouted to the present crew. "If they arrived damaged, we don't get paid!" He snatched the dagger from the headstrong man and succumbed to Gajeel's superiority.
"Give that back." Levy gulped, lips shaking, and bottom teeth tried to tame it. Gajeel stared at her messy blue hair entangled with leaves and a dirty sunflower colored cloth, almost appearing black in her bright hair. Little pointy tips of her ears peeked out like mountains in her forest blue hair. The oversize burlap rag (if you would call it a dress) covered her from neck to toe. He couldn't tell if she was a child or a young woman with the sack that draped over her did nothing but make her look like she was flat as a plank. Though, regardless of the tears and her fearful shaking, she never took her hazel eyes away from his.
"A dagger like this will cost a pretty penny." Gajeel studied the dagger, gliding his thumb along the edge of the blade. He noticed that the blade was recently sharpened. "I'll spare you by taking this off yer hands."
"No," The slave muttered. "That's—"
"Put her back in the cage." Gajeel ordered. "Don't you dare take them out for whatever reason! You want yer coin, they have to be unbroken." The crew hollered in response.
"Not so fast," A snickering voice entered the fray, boots steadily making its way atop the ramp. "Bring the she-elf to me." The shipmate grabbed her by the arm and dragged her with her chains in tow.
"Levy!" A blond elf woman screamed her name, while the others tried to calm her down. Another crew member hit the bars of their cage with his sword, yelling at them to shut their mouths.
"Maker help her," Juvia whispered next to Gajeel. He side glanced the mage, watching Juvia reach for her staff, but to only encircle the shaft with her fingers and to rest it there. Just in case. Both Juvia and Gajeel learned how to hide their wary feelings, hardened from being tortured as a child.
It was a mercenary's job to do whatever it took to get the job done. Simple as that. Being one and twenty in this Maker forsaken world, those words were forged into him just like the black steel axe holstered behind him. However, his years would never prepare his infamous iron heart from the gruesome screams from merciless torture. No one needed to know that. He hid that part of him very well. What was worse was that sometimes he had no other choice but to inflict pain.
It was his job.
"Gajeel," Captain Ivan called out, pointing his ring clad finger at him, dark goatee curving with his sinister smile. "Would you care to do the honors?" Upon hearing his words, Juvia immediately held onto Gajeel's pierced forearm without anyone else noticing, squeezing him. He did not need to look at Juvia to know what she wanted to say, though she did not resist when Gajeel pulled himself away from her grip.
It's our job. Gajeel thought as he took stern steps towards the slave. The elf lass tried desperately to move away from him, dragging her heavy chains with her. Her efforts were lost once she bumped into a sailor's boot, and he decided to kick her towards Gajeel. The elf squeaked, crashing in front of Gajeel, and she immediately looked up at her punisher. Liquid gold eyes glared back at him, sky blue brows knitted above them, ivory teeth gritted against one another, clear in her intent that she wasn't begging for mercy. She was not like the others who have begged for him to spare them or begged to the Maker for mercy. Which he didn't understand. He wasn't the Maker, why would his victims ask the Maker for mercy when he was the one inflicting pain. Gods. He never understood them.
"Maker have mercy." The elf lass gasped between quivering breaths. There it was again, and it only enraged Gajeel hearing it again. Gajeel wrapped his leather gloved hands around her chains, her dainty wrists untarnished from the bruising chains. That would soon change after he was through with her. He looked at the tiny woman, who continued to stare furiously into his red eyes.
"Maker, have mercy on your weary soul." She gulped, wincing from the tug on her chains.
His eyes widen at her words. Not once had someone asked their Gods to bring mercy to Gajeel. Though, he could not let this elf get to him. His cold exterior remain unfazed from her prayers. The roar of laughter and amusement erupted once he took his heavy boot to her tiny body.
They were mercenaries.
Juvia knew that.
Gajeel was well aware of that.
But, did the elf know that?
From the depth of her honey brown eyes, she did not know their life decree. Their motto. Traveling around Thedas earning coin from whoever would hire them. She did not know that torturing and transporting slaves was part of that decree, though it was unsaid. Only for it was carved into their cold hearts and chiseled into their bones.
Little did he know the elf slave was much more understanding than she appeared to be.
"Lucy, I'm fine." Levy winced when cold hands and tingling magic pestered her bare side. "He didn't notice." Levy's eyes stared at her light armored chest plate, customized for her height, shape and movements. It was dented along her torso, having her abdomen churn remembering his merciful kicks to her body.
"That brute could have killed you." Lucy whispered, guiding her fingers from Levy's wide hips to under her bare breast. Levy was thankful the men weren't locked up with them, though if they were, their cover would have been blown, knowing that they wouldn't be able to sit back and watch as the mercenary beat her up.
"Lu, save your energy. You did enough." Levy grabbed her hand from her aching skin, blue light disappearing and darkness loomed over. Even in the dark, she could see the spiritual mage stare at her worriedly. "Your healing will be needed." Her mixed tongue of Dalish and other languages would escape her lips. At times it would annoy her when she heard herself speak in the voice of her mother's people.
It's been over a decade, Levy. She told herself. Repeating the name she'd given herself. A name with no origin, no meaning, and a fake surname to accompany her made up name. It was a name of her choosing. Not a slave name, nor a name given by the Dalish spirits; the name she'd given herself was Levy McGarden. Though, no matter what name she'd chosen, it didn't hide the fact that she was an Elf.
"Levy," Lucy pulled her from her wondering thoughts. "See? You're not okay!" Her shaking hands grabbed the leathers beside her gauntlet and helped Levy slip it over her head. "If you just let the merc take the dagger instead of fighting him for it."
If only Lucy knew how much it was worth to Levy. A reward from an old blacksmith from Antiva after translating some Crow documents from Qunlat to common tongue. Weeks spent with the Blacksmith in his tiny home beside his forge, where she was spent days deciphering the language as best as she could. She was also given food, shelter and a library to indulge her curious mind. The best part of her stay was the tales the old Blacksmith told of his son, who was taken from him at a young age to settle for his crime. A farewell gift was made for Levy; a pair of silverite daggers balanced with molded amber hilt for her quick and deft fingers and movements.
"Either way, that sea nug would have torture all of us to find out who the dagger belonged to." Levy explained quietly. "Better me than them." She nudged her chin towards the other elf women huddled in the corner of cold steel cage. "Please?" Levy held out the burlap cloth that hid her armor covered body. "Take it. To keep yer warm." There it was again, that accent.
"Yer going to get us in trouble." One of them muttered harshly. Her voice was a thick Ferelden accent. City elf. "They find out yer pirates—"
"I won't let that happen." Levy's voice returned, forgetting that she was no longer whispering. "We won't let that happen." She smiled along with Lucy. Levy's bare fingers reached for her boot, pulling out a pair of lockpicks from her thick socks, and crawled to their chained up feet.
"Don't!" An elderly woman hissed. "If we are caught unbound, they will kill us along with you." Her jaw tightens and her eyes faltered. Her kindness was denied as if she was a slaver. Their shaking jeweled eyes stared at her as if she and Lucy were abominations.
"Aneth'ara." Levy said to them. They were startled by her fluid tongue and her mellow tone, almost sounding sincere. Though, her console only angered them more.
"Len'alas lath'din!" One of the women spat, voice thick in Dalish. It was difficult to see their faces, but from the little light they were provided, she could see the old Dalish tattoos on their dreary faces, faded away from being either shunned by their people or taken away by slavers.
"The blight take you, you dirty elf and blood mage." The younger elf spat, her fire red hair unevenly cut. From the looks of it, they would force her to grow out her hair and then cut it off to sell to Orlesian merchants for their demanding fashion clients.
"I-I am no blood mage…" Lucy mentioned, and Levy waved her hand at her to stand down. It was nothing new to Levy. Even to elves, city or Dalish, they treated her like she was one of the Shemlens. If anything, she knew the old ways from their people from the books or parchment she had read. Rare for an elf to know how to read as well as the Ferelden Scholars, though it was much more of knowing than understanding. For some reason, the real elves sense that about her. She would only know of the history, but yet to grasp into believing.
"Abelas." Levy apologized, lowering her head in respect. She turned her back and returned to Lucy's side, holding up Levy's gauntlets. "I tried."
"It's okay if they don't understand," Lucy whispered. "We still have a job to do."
"Right," Levy slipped her leather gauntlets, stretching her fingers until she couldn't pull on the leather anymore and she curled them into a tight fist. She then took the dirty yellow cloth from her hair, and untied a black one from her bare bicep. She threaded it where the yellow use to be and the night colored cloth brought out the shiny blue of her hair.
"One good thing about my dagger being taken away was that I have a layout of the deck." Levy explained to Lucy. She paused from peering through the little sliver opening in the burlap and turned to look at Levy, still not convinced it was a good idea. "Because of the storm coming, they had to secure all the cargo below deck."
"So?"
"So," Levy smiled. "Only a few smugglers will be with the cargo guarding it. The rest of them will be above deck manning the sails and readying the storm." She explained, puffing out her chest with a wide smug on her face. Lucy's face eased, and a small smile greeted Levy. A daughter of a highly respected Magister in the Tevinter Imperium with her father having a pricey bounty for her return, and now a pirate apostate, Lucy was always worried for her life. For one year, she had to watch her back, never know when someone was aiming for her head. Thankfully, she found kindness in the haven of Fairy Tail, where people accepted her and friends that would protect her.
"Getting out will be easy," Lucy added. "Facing them all with the storm will not be so." She shook her head. "Let's hope Natsu and Gray are ready for that."
"I am sure they are looking forward to getting out of that stifling crate." Levy laughed. "I think you should be more concerned about them killing each other for being locked up for so long."
"And with our weapons," Lucy sighed. "Andraste's ass…if the plan doesn't go according to plan—"
"It will," Levy snorted. "Don't worry." Little doubt cracked in her voice, but Levy had confidence in their skill and teamwork. She reached for her dagger only to have her heart lurch from her chest for a brief moment before she remembered what came of her security. She had the second of the pair holstered securely along the side of her upper thigh She felt naked without the other. Also, naked from her quiver and trusty recurve bow. She never went anywhere without it. However, it was necessary to keep the weapons with Natsu and Gray for the mean time. As long as she played her part in the plan, she would be reunited once again. The one of the pair daggers might not be rejoining them, though she was willing to try when the opportunity present itself.
"Antivan." Gajeel muttered to himself, studying the familiar design of the hilt and blade. "Ka—" Gajeel's eyes studied the etching in the blade. "Kadan? Elvhen? No—Dwarven?" Gajeel ran his fingers along the smoothness of the sharpen steel made of silverite, something about the unique curve design reminded him of the work of certain blacksmith. He could ask his friend, Lily the Panther. Maybe he knew some Dwarven as his father was once the child of the stone. Gajeel wondered why a silverite dagger forged in Antiva had non-Antivan text written on the blade. It was also not like the Antivans to carve an identity in the blades for assassins. And from the looks of the blade, it was meant for swift kills with little to no effort. The bigger question was how did it end up in the hands of an elf lass?
A flash of lightning averted his ruby eyes from the carnelian knife, looking out in the vast ocean and not a single piece of land in sight. The crack of thunder that followed rumbled the ship that harbored them, feeling the angry growl from Mother Ocean's fury. Riding through storms were nothing new for Gajeel and the rest of the crew. They lived through enough of its wrath to know how to ride it out, and it helped to have a water manipulating enchantress. It would be days before they reached Neverra, weeks if the storm would bring them out of chorus, and with a lower deck full of slaves and enough food to feed only the crew, Gajeel wondered how many of those slaves would survive the trip.
"The storm is coming," Her voice smooth as silk said to him. Juvia approached Gajeel, entwining her hands around the thick rope tied to the wooden rail.
"No shit," Gajeel snickered. "I thought it was gonna be sunshine and rainbows!" He joked and was rewarded with Juvia letting out an adorable laugh rarely heard escape the mage.
"Better go to Ferelden for that." Juvia added.
"Nothin' but dog shit and Mabari there." Gajeel snorted, twirling the dagger in his large callused hands. Her dark eyes watched the Antivan blade swiftly twirled and spun strangely in his hands.
"Is that the little elf's dagger?" Juvia asked. Gajeel nodded and looked down at the weapon. It was made for small and quick hands. The dynamics of the shape were forged for that purpose, and being the child of an Antivan blacksmith Gajeel knew his weapons as well as his use of an axe. "May Juvia see it?" Gajeel twirled the blade one more time and caught the blade between his fingers. He handed the blade, hilt side towards Juvia, and she grabbed on to the strangely smoothed handle.
"That blade might be worth something in Neverra." Gajeel said to her. "Has some elven on it."
"Qunlat." Juvia corrected.
"Huh?" Gajeel confused, raised a quizzical metal studded brow.
"The Qunari tongue?" Juvia explained. "Kadan means, 'Where the heart lies.'"
"You know Qunari?"
"No," Juvia shook her head. "Juvia knows the meaning of the word. Why does the little elf girl have something beautiful as this?"
Gajeel would also like to know the answer to that. Silverite was a precious metal and for a blacksmith to forge one with a design such as this blade would have cost more than an arm or a leg. Unless the elf stole it from somewhere. The latter was very much likely.
Where the heart lies…Gajeel pondered. He hadn't heard that in over a decade; the last words of his father before a band of men took him away for stealing from a nobleman. His old man's last words to him could be some straight to the point advice about killing his opponent or some sincere heartfelt meaning that he never really understood. An Antivan blade with similar craftsmanship and words he was left with in anothers' language; it couldn't be a coincidence.
"Where are you going?" Juvia asked Gajeel, snatching the dagger from her hands, almost nicking her by its sharp tip.
"I'm gonna ask that elf." Gajeel told her, though he stopped when a half breed man with dark olive skin and mud colored eyes walked over hastily from the starboard side of the ship."Lily." His wide set jaw and lanky arms from his mother's kin, and tall, muscular build and beardless from his father's side, Lily the Panther was the child of a Dwarven Legionnaire and a Human Pirate Captain.
"You're not going to believe this," He smiled, looking around to see if anyone else was listening. Lily waved Juvia to come closer and he whispered, "That elf and blond girl slaves are not slaves." Juvia and Gajeel eyed each other briefly and returned them to Lily, smirking at this new information. "I recognized the blond girl from a bounty poster. A Tevinter Magister has a reward to bring her alive."
"How much?" Gajeel asked.
"Enough to get our own ship?" Juvia added to her delight. "Hire our own crew?"
"That's right," He answered with a toothy grin. "No more transporting slaves and contraband. But, there is something else that I have found."
"Out with it!"
"Gajeel."
"They are pirates. I overheard the elf girl and Magister's daughter about the plan. It's possible there might be others." Lily explained. "If they are planning on taking the ship—"
"Then we need to come up with a plan of our own." Juvia continued. "Gajeel, if those pirates are smart they would strike when we are close to port. We need to find out how many are there."
"And I doubt I'm the only one who would notice the blond's face once they decide to take the ship." Lily added. "Once it is known, she might be taken by the Captain." Gajeel's lips pursed in deep thought, thinking and considering the options given to him by his companions. With the Magister's daughter and the coup as a distraction, this could be Gajeel's only chance to do what he intended to do with his life. For their lives. He never asked for their friendship, but as annoying as they are, Juvia and Lily were the only family he had in this crude world.
"C'mon," Gajeel ordered. "Below decks."
"To do what exactly?" Juvia inquired.
"Gihi," Gajeel snickered. "Let's find our pirates."
And I have to know where the she-elf got that dagger.