The Shit We Do For Friends
Starting from the Circle, Duncan moves across Thedas, picking up all the recruits he can in an effort to bolster the Ferelden Grey against the Blight. M!Amell, F!Surana, M!Brosca, F!Aeducan, M!Cousland, F!Tabris, M!Mahariel. I started a version of this like...two years ago, but my writing was pretty terrible. I was in too much of a rush, so I've come back to it now, more carefully, with slightly changed characters. The Wardens are their own, and I merely write whatever it is they want me to. I own nothing here.
Daylen Amell stretched over his large double bed in contentment. A mage's bed. No more Jowan above him, tossing and turning and whispering nonsense in Arcanum. No, this bed, this whole room, was his and his alone. Sweet, precious privacy; a luxury in this tower where a mage's every move was hounded by the ever watchful eyes of the Templars.
Not that he didn't miss the presence of his best friend, but….the bed. Wide. Spacious. Soft. Another person could easily fit in beside, or beneath him even more comfortably. Rather than those narrow single bunks in the apprentice dorms he could take all the time he wanted, and make his bed-mate scream as loud as he wanted. No more hushed, efficient love-making for Daylen. No, here he would have he luxury of time to perfect his non-magical arts.
Daylen stretched again and smiled at the thought. Who would be the one he would christen the bed with? Petra, with her sweet, shy eyes and full, pink lips? To make he squirm and scream would be a pleasure indeed. Fiery Leli with her burning hatred for the Circle? Such fieriness could commend a bed-mate. Or perhaps devout Keili? Daylen was sure he could show her the blessings of a mage's touch given enough time in this wonderful large bed and private quarters. Lost in his imaginings Daylen didn't hear the soft footfalls that approached his bed side.
"Well, I'm glad you're happy, at least," chastised a soft, musical voice that pull Daylen out of his reverie. The mage opened his golden brown eyes to Neria Surana worrying her bottom lip in a way that made lesser men's blood race. To Daylen it was merely adorable, swelling his chest with innocent affection - a term he almost laughed out loud thinking - for his dearest friend.
Neria Surana was definitely beautiful, even if Daylen only thought of her as a sister, as unlikely as the blood relation would ever be with her long, tapered elven ears. She had long icy blonde hair that curled into ringlets just past her shoulders to fall down to her waist. With her pale skin, bleached from years spent indoors, sweet birdlike features and bright clear blue eyes with flecks of gold, Neria looked like a spirit of the Fade made mortal. It made sense she was Wynne's protege - only one of two Spirit Healers to pass their Harrowing.
Their little triumvirate was a study in contrasts, with sweet, pure Neria the axis on which it turned. Both Daylen and Jowan had dark hair and eyes, with Daylen remaining golden skinned despite the oppressive lack of sunlight in his life. Where Neri was a healer at heart, with a Spirit protector of all things, Daylen was a born battle mage, wielding the elements like a force of nature, and Jowan was, while relatively weak, an entropic mage that caused them all enough suffering without the aid of his magic, if truth be told. Neri was sweet and compassionate where Daylen was wild and uncontrollable and Jowan was cold and unforgiving. No wonder people stared at them when they would study in the library together. It really didn't make sense that three unlikely mages would be so close to one another.
"What's not to be happy about, Neri?" asked Daylen, sitting up with his back against the head board of his bed as the elven mage sat down on the edge of his bed with the grace of a woman who walked on air. She shot her friend a withering glare that would have turned Daylen to an unmoving black of ice if she had a mind to. He'd seen it before, and watched, with a healthy dose of fear for his seemingly pretty and sweet friend, as the Templars had chipped the ice that froze Anders' hands to the library wall. Anders had been lucky that frostbite was the largest complaint he'd had after that incident.
"Jowan is really upset. He's convinced they're going to make him Tranquil," sighed Neria, her lower lip quivering with unshed tears, looking down at her hands as they fidgeted anxiously. Daylen rolled his eyes, scooting down the bed to run his warm hands up Neria's arms soothingly. He felt the tension that made them shake slowly ebb out of her body. Watching out for her small bouts of anxiety was another part of their friendship other people had never quite understood.
When Neria had come to the tower, well after Jowan and himself, she had been little more than a mess of tears and snot that shook, curled up in a ball like a beaten dog. Daylen, unable to sleep through a third straight day of her panicked hyperventilating and quiet sobs had rolled out of his bed and crawled into bed with the other child, holding her as he let a little of his natural fire flow out through his skin to warm up the straining muscles in her body. Ever since that night he held her and both of them had finally got some sleep, Neria had never left his side, and he kept a careful dark eye out for her panic attacks. Sometimes Neria would chuckle through her panicked sobs and tell him he was better than a hot water bottle and a teddy bear combined and he would grit her teeth and make her promise not to tell anyone. He had enough trouble getting women out of his bed after a quick bout of lovemaking without them finding out he was an experienced cuddler. That only seemed to make her chuckle more.
"Jowan is just being dramatic, Neri. He's jealous we've both been here shorter than he and already passed our Harrowing, living in these amazing human sized beds." Daylen flashed her his sweetest, most charming smile, the kind only she could bring out of him and Neria returned a small, shy one of her own. At her throat the small and battered amulet with Andraste's face on it flashed and Daylen stopped himself from rolling his eyes that she still wore the damned thing. A gift from a Templar of all things, when she was brought to the Circle. She was almost as bad as pious Keili, without all the self-hatred the other Andrastian had, constantly lecturing him and Jowan when the pair got them all into trouble. Daylen was sure he would hate her if she weren't also the most compassionate and loving person he'd ever known, even before coming to the Tower. Not even the Templars could knock that out of the born healer.
"Maybe we could see him, Neri, together," suggested Daylen as he still ran his heated hands down her arms and the back of her thin robes, feeling the tension drain out of her at his words. She smiled up at him through her long lashes, that bright Neria smile that would make any man happily walk off the roof of the Tower if it would bring that smile back. Daylen took a special joy in making those all too infrequent dazzling smiles appear on her sweet face.
"Ahem," coughed a Templar at the door. No, not a Templar, corrected Daylen as he took in the man in his heavy plate army and bright orange hair. Cullen wasn't a Templar yet, but he soon would be. He had been at Daylen's Harrowing, apparently to kill the dark haired mage if he hadn't succeeded. The thought didn't exactly warm Daylen up to the idea of the pile of clattering plate armour, skirts, madness and hatred against mages standing in his doorway.
"Cullen!" exclaimed Neria, with another of those over-bright smiles of hers as she jumped out of Daylen's hands like she'd been shocked. A pink blush spattered across her cheeks and up the long points of her ears as she quickly demurred. "I-I meant, S-Ser Rutherford…umm..how are you?"
"I-I am good, L-Lady Surana," stammered the Templar-Initiate, his freckled face going blotchy with embarrassment at his awkward speech. Daylen could keep his mouth from gaping wide as he took in the pair, embarrassed, pink and not meeting the other eyes. Well, smack my arse and call me Hessarian, Neria has a crush on a sodding Templar? Did he just call her Lady? What in the Void just fucking happened? Neria had always nursed a sweet spot for Jowan, though Daylen couldn't see the attraction at all. It never crossed his minds she would have those same puppy dog eyes for anyone else, let alone a bleeding Templar. Maker, the girl was a secret masochist all along.
"I-uh-First E-Enchanter wanted to see you b-both," Cullen managed before escaping, face alight as if he'd been on the receiving end of an apprentice's careless fireball spell. Neria blinked her dazed ice blue eyes and turned to Daylen slowly. Seeing the incredulity written on his face Neria turned a bright crimson of embarrassment, shifting nervously under his gaze.
"Umm…sooooo…First Enchanter?" she offered, looking at her blue soft soled slippers. Daylen shook himself out of his stunned paralysis, following Neria as she all, but fled his room, jogging to catch up to the crimson, white haired elf.
"Not so fast," barked Daylen and Neria slowed, shoulders hunched as if he had risen a hand at her. "What. In. The. Void. Was. That?" Daylen fought to keep his voice even, not wanting to frighten the skittish woman. She looked at him with those wide doe-like eyes and he regretted the harshness of his tone almost immediately. He wasn't angry with her, not really, more….worried? Maybe? She was going to get herself hurt looking at a Templar like that. They couldn't be trusted. None of them.
"Nothing," whimpered Neria, her tone more high pitched than usual. She was a terrible liar. "Cul-Ser Rutherford watched over me when I was recovering from the Harrowing. It takes a lot out of me to go into the Fade like that, to face that kind of unchained evil, even with Duty beside me. You know that."
Neria's special connection to the Fade, to the Spirit of Duty who had watched over the elven mage for as long as she could remember, not only made her a fantastic healer, easily surpassing Anders and nearly as good as her own mentor, Wynne, but it also made her more susceptible to the dangers of the Fade. She had to be even more vigilant than the average mage against demons, and it made sense the Templars had assigned someone to watch over her after the Harrowing, to ensure that tenuous connection didn't spell her downfall.
"I mean, he was ordered to kill me if I turned, but he assured me he would have felt perfectly wretched about it. And…" at Daylen's darkened expression Neria faltered, picking up the pace. The faster they got to Irving's study, the fast this awkwardness could be quashed. "He's nice, Dayle. He's not like the others. He doesn't hate mages," tried Neria, peeking out from behind a curtain of pale blonde hair, but Daylen's eyes watched her just as hard as ever.
"He's a Templar, Neri. Of course he hates mages. He wouldn't choose to join an armed group of people who like to hunt us down and put us down like rabid dogs when we step out of line otherwise. You can't trust them, any of them," urged Daylen, anger creeping into his voice again and Neria just looked away, worrying at her bottom lip again.
"I can't believe that, Dayle. I can't believe that all of them hate us. Fear us, yes, and they're right to. We are dangerous, and we need to be watched, but I can't believe they all hate us." Neria's voice was quiet, but surprisingly strong with her convictions. Daylen dropped the subject, balling his hands into fists. Neria was too sweet and naive by half. She might not have seen the dark side of the Templars, but he had. He watched them kill his entire family for protecting him. He had watched their ridiculously large swords splatter the Amaranthine hovel they had called home with their blood. He remembered his father's horror stories of the Circle in the Free Marches, where his family came from. No, Neria had no idea what these skirted protectors could do.
Daylen's dark thoughts were interrupted by a soft rap of small knuckles against heavy wood. He looked up, surprised they had already reached the First Enchanter's study in his brooding. He schooled his face as Neria shot him a worried glanced and the door opened of it's own accord. Both mages stiffened as they recognised the hulking figure of Knight-Commander Greagoir. Neria all, but hid behind her larger friend as Daylen stepped confidently into the study ahead of her, shoulders wide and eyes concealing the loathing the man felt for the Knight-Commander. Whatever argument he had been having with the First Enchanter, and the calm stranger beside him was stopped abruptly by their appearance, however, and Greagoir stomped from the room in a huff.
"Come in, come in," urged Irving, waving both mages forward as they flicked uncertain and questions glances at the stranger who stood calmly with his hands behind his back. He wore some sort of thin steel armour and had deep brown eyes lined by years of experience that made him look older than the rest of his face. There wasn't even any grey in the neat and trimmed beard or the hair he had brushed back into a ponytail to keep out of his face. "Neria, Daylen, this is Duncan, Commander of the Ferelden Grey Wardens."
Both mages nodded respectfully at the warrior. No wonder he seemed so aged, thought Neria. Everything se had read about the Grey Wardens cast them in some dark, almost tragically romantic, light. Darkspawn, untimely death and duty above all else didn't exactly make for jovial youths. They were almost always the subject of her favourited Exalted Age tragic romances.
"A pleasure to meet you both," greeted Duncan with a respectful nod of his own. "First-Enchanter Irving has told me much about both of you." The pair exchanged questioning and surprised glances with one another. The Warden merely chuckled. "Evidently you have not been told about me."
"No - I mean…I knew that the King's recruiter came by a few weeks ago to take a few mages with them to Ostagar to fight darkspawn," started Neria. She remembered Wynne hugging her tightly in farewell, sorry she wouldn't be there for her student's Harrowing. "Are you here to recruit more mages for the army?"
"Is that why Greagoir is in such a mood?" added Daylen, smiling as Neria shot him a withering look. The thought of someone else riling up the Knight-Commander tickled Daylen the right way and he grinned at Neria despite her glare. Duncan merely chuckled.
"They are as quick as you said they were, Irving. To answer your questions; no, I'm not here to recruit for the King's Army,but yes, the Knight-Commander is displeased about my presence nonetheless." Daylen merely grinned warmly at the man as Neria cocked her head thoughtfully like a bird, tapping one small finger against her pouted lips.
"Why are you here then?" asked Neria politely. 'You don't have to answer that if you don't want to," she added, hastily, shooting Irving a sheepish look as the older mage chuckled and shook his head at the girl.
"How much do you know about the Grey Wardens?" Daylen laughed himself, gesturing around the study at the walls lined from floor to ceiling with books.
"Little else to do in the Circle, but read, Commander," chuckled Daylen and Neria looked up at her friend in shock at his casual, almost disrespectful tone.
"True," conceded Duncan who traded a look with Irving who shook his head only slightly, but the movement caught Daylen's eye and he narrowed them at the two men thoughtfully. "My business is not important right now. It has been a long trip from Ostagar, and I'm not nearly done yet," sighed Duncan tiredly.
"Please, Surana, Amell, if you would escort the Warden-Commander to the guest quarters so he may rest. The rest of the day is yours. You have done well to pass your Harrowings, and as they say it is your party, after all," smiled Irving benevolently and Neria ducked her head in a mixture of respect and embarrassment as the two mages left the study in the company of Duncan.
Neria all, but bounced with barely restrained excitement as they took Duncan down the hall. Her excitement was almost tangible and Daylen looked down at her, eyebrows raised questioningly at her fidgeting and she stilled with a sheepish smile.
"Good night, Duncan," farewelled Neria with her over-bright smile and the older man merely smiled before ducking into his chambers and Neria looked up at her friend. "How exciting!"
"I don't see what-"
"Neri, Dayle," a familiar and out of breath voice interrupted Daylen as the pair turned to their friend, Jowan's face looking harried and not a just a little bit fearful. He was wringing his hands like Neria did when she worried her lip, thinking about the many things she could control and it made a lump rise in her throat.
"Jowan, what's wrong?" squeaked the elven mage, her earlier excitement bleeding away to worry at the sight of her nervous friend.
"I-I need to speak to both of you…somewhere safe. Can you come to the Chantry? Please," he begged, his voice sounding tearful. "I need your help."
Daylen had subconsciously put his warm hands on Neria as she tightened up, his magic bleeding through his hands to relax her. She smiled slightly in thanks at her tall, human friend. He had really missed his calling as a healer in her opinion. No one could relax her the same way Daylen could when the fear threatened to take her.
"Tell us what's wrong, Jowan," urged Daylen, sparing Neria a worried glance out the corner of his eye. The apprentice just wronged his hands, dark hazel eyes looking lost.
"Please. The Chantry. It's safer to talk there." With that, Jowan was off, almost running. Daylen sighed, a knot forming in his stomach as he looked down at Neria.
"We should go after him, Dayle," Neria managed, calming her breathing, her face set and determined. He nodded stiffly and followed her down the hall to the Chantry. The only person at the altar at this late hour was Keili, no doubt praying to the Maker to take her magic away, thought Daylen in disgust. He couldn't believe that earlier he was fantasising about that self-hating woman earlier. He could never really get involved with someone who bought so fully into the horses hit the Chantry spewed. Such a tryst would make him feel unclean and he hid his shudder of disgust from Neria as she searched for Jowan, finding him kneeling with a Chantry Initiate of all things.
"Jowan!" Neria tried her best to smile warmly through her worry as Jowan looked up at them looking crestfallen. Her smile withered and died on her lips, however, as Jowan rose, looking at the Initiate with tenderness and took her hand in his own. Daylen felt his own heart sink as he watched Neria's break in front of him, wishing he'd found the time to tell her Jowan had a girlfriend. He didn't know it was an Initiate, but Daylen had been aware of his former bunk-mate's relationship with some unknown woman for the past month or so, but had never had the courage to tell Neri. Her broken-hearted look up at Daylen felt like a stab in the chest as her icy blue eyes hardened at his pitying look, her small hands balling up into angry fists. emFuck/em, was all Daylen had time to think before Jowan descended on them with his girlfriend.
"We should be safe here," breathed out Jowan, dark eyes darting to Keili where she knelt, deep in prayer. The woman squeezed his hand reassuringly, making Jowan smile weakly and Neria narrow her eyes. Daylen felt a sense of foreboding at this whole situation. He didn't want to be responsible if Neria decided she would much rather Jowan as a frozen ice sculpture in the Chantry.
"What's going on, Jowan?" asked Daylen, quietly stepping in front of Neria so she would;t freeze Jowan immediately. Not that he felt entirely comfortable that she wouldn't do the same to him. He had seen the hurt and betrayal in those sweet blue eyes of hers, caused just as much by his silence as by Jowan's stupid ignorance.
"I-I told you I had met someone, Dayle. This…This is Lily." Jowan's eyes darted toward the silently fuming Neria worriedly. "I-I was afraid to tell anyone. Lily is training to be a priest…she-she's taken vows," stammered Jowan apologetically, but his words merely crashed over Neria like buckets of icy water. "If anyone found out about this…."
"You can trust us, Jowan," snapped Neria, voice icy and both men felt the very air turn thick with cold. Lily watched on confused and nervous as Neria's icy magic touched her skin.
"I-I know…I'm sorry I kept this a secret for so long…but-but I…"/
"Jowan," pressed Lily gently and Neria shot an icy glare at the woman, that made Daylen's heart jump into his throat. One mad Neria, plus two stupid mages and one completely oblivious Chantry Initiate and the Chantry's going to have three new ice sculptures for Satinalia decorations.
"I-I know why they haven't put me through my Harrowing. They're going to make me Tranquil." Jowan's voice became panicked and Daylen stopped himself from rolling his eyes again. He had been saying the same thing since Neria went to the Harrowing before Daylen a few days ago. "They're going to take everything away from me, everything that makes me a person. I'll just be a husk, merely existing."
"Jowan," groaned Daylen.
"I saw the document, myself," added Lily softly. "It was left on Greagoir's desk, signed by the First-Enchanter himself."
"Why would they?" shrugged Neria, and Daylen glanced back at her, worried at her cold tone. At least the room didn't threaten a blizzard anymore, but she clearly wasn't about to forgive Jowan, or himself for some time.
"There are….rumours-lies that I've been practicing blood magic," explained Jowan. At Neria's hard glare he put up his hands defensively. "It's all lies, Neri, I swear. It's not safe anymore for me here…I-I need to escape, to destroy my phylactery so they can't track me." Things didn't seem to go better with Lily and Jowan's explanation of their plan. Daylen kept from groaning out loud at the stupidity and downright danger of what the couple were asking him and Neria to do. Neria didn't say a word, and her hands never uncurled themselves.
Breaking into the phylactery chamber and helping a mage and a Chantry Initiate escape to tower might actually be the stupidest plan Jowan had come up with in all the years he and Daylen had been friends, and he had plenty of examples of Jowan's stupidity. To think he had found an equally clueless and naive woman to fall in love with only made Daylen seriously doubt their chances of survival on the run from Templars. They wanted either Neria or Daylen to obtain a rod of fire, as if that would stand a chance against a magically sealed door designed to keep mages out of the Blighted fucking thing.
"Fine," snapped Neria coldly. Jowan's face looked relieved and he smiled as he reached out to clasp Neria on the arm. Electricity skittered over her skin and Jowan jumped back suddenly. "Don't touch me," warned Neria, dangerously and Jowan stepped back cowed.
Daylen shot Jowan an apologetic glance as he chased after Neria who stormed out of the Chantry in a very un-Neria rage. Once the two were in the corridor Neria turned on Daylen with an icy rage.
"You. Knew!" she accused, her voice dangerously low and icy.
"I-Yes, but I didn't want to hurt you…so…okay, that's a terrible excuse," apologised Daylen as she continued to glare at him. "Okay, I was a downright coward. I…just…I didn't think it would last and I…didn't…want to hurt you."
"Oh, well, that worked out just fantastically, didn't it?" snarled Neria in a way that actually frightened Daylen. "You're supposed to be my friend, you both are. And you both lied to me."
"Well, we didn't exactly….sorry, I'll shut up," finished Daylen as she glared at him angrily.
"There are enough secrets in this place without you keeping things from me, too," added Neria, her anger turning to melancholy as she looked down at the floor. "I'm not that weak I couldn't handle the truth, Dayle."
Daylen felt like the worst person alive as he wrapped his arms around Neria, squeezing her tightly. He rested his head on her soft white hair as she sobbed quietly into his deep wide chest, moistening the fabric of his robes. He ran a warm hand through her hair comfortingly.
"I'm sorry, Neri. You're right. And Jowan's a fucking fool for choosing that fluff-headed idiot over someone as smart, beautiful and perfect as you. I wish this hadn't happened to you." Neria shuddered a deep breath in his arms before stepping back, forcing Daylen to release her from his embrace
"We still have to help him. He is our friend," added Neria in a small voice. Daylen nodded and followed Neria to the stockroom. He, himself, had doubts about Jowan's innocence. He didm;t like the Circle, and believed the Templars would make them all Tranquil if they could, but he could;t quite believe that First-Enchanter Irving would sign the Rite over the whispered gossip of jealous apprentices. There had to be proof for Irving to agree to something so awful. He remained silent while Neria procured a form from Owain, shuddering at the thought of Jowan talking in that same monotonous, unfeeling voice.
"We need a Senior Enchanter to sign the form," sighed Neria as she rolled up the parchment, stuffing into her belt. "I-I don't think they'd give it to," she added, sheepishly and Daylen forced himself to chuckle. No, they wouldn't. He was surprised they had allowed him to take his own Harrowing, with how much they disapproved of his wild, anti-Circle ways.
"I'll let you get the required signature yourself, then," smiled Daylen as he thought on something he could do with his own form. Perhaps he should ask Irving about all of this.
