Title: ...the goodness within beneath the sin
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters/Pairings: Calpernia, Samson, Maddox, OFC, OMC; Sampernia
Rating: T (?)
Warnings: canon typical violence; spoilers for DA Inquisition but nothing serious; minor character death
Summary: At times Samson wishes to return to simpler times of knowing what is right and what is wrong. / Sampernia; full summary and warnings inside
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine, although the writing certainly is.
A/N: title is a line from To Have And To Hold by Depeche Mode.
I'm so, so happy we got Paying the Ferryman and Paper and Steel. If we're getting additional content about them, maybe it means Bioware want to use them in the next Dragon Age game? I can dream.
There's a knock on the door, his eyes leave the map he's been studying, glancing at the woman who walks in. Her templar uniform is damaged but can still serve her well. She looks embarrassed or scared, or possibly both, but Samson knows she's brave, all his soldiers are.
"We have a…" she takes a deep breath. "There's a problem, sir."
The fact he doesn't hear people shouting means there's no army attacking, besides he wouldn't expect to see the Inquisition again so quickly after they were nearly destroyed at Haven (nearly – the word stings).
"Yes?" Samson asks, searching for a name but the image he has in his head is not entirely similar to the person standing here. He remembers her from a different time, and a place so far away it seems like a dream now. "Vera?"
She blinks, perhaps surprised the general knows her name. He can notice her hands are shaking; it will get worse, and she won't be able to hold a sword and shield anymore. But there's still time.
"We are losing one of our men, sir. It's Benett," Vera replies, nearly choking on her words.
Samson observes as she bites on her lips, trying hard not to cry. This woman (girl) is so young, and yet she has so much courage to follow him to the end of the world. He can't afford doubting if what he is doing is right; there's this complexity that makes his head hurt when he ties to think about it, and at times Samson wishes to return to simpler times of knowing what is right and what is wrong. It's too late now, however, he has to do what he feels is right. He would like to have the conviction the Venatori have, because they know what they're doing is right. He remembers asking Calpernia once to explain him what is their deal here exactly. He was curious not because he doubted they support the Elder One because they are "evil" (it's always so easy to label certain people, certain nations, and it was especially easy with people from the Imperium; they have always been "evil", why change things now). He asked because Calpernia seems so different than other Tevinters. She frees slaves and kills slavers; from what Samson knows about Tevinter mages, it should be the other way round. She is bold and proud, of course, like every 'vint, like every mage, and yet sometimes he catches her avoiding looking him in the eyes (not because she's annoyed with him – she usually is, and he can't do anything about it), and she keeps her head low as if… At times she behaves like she was still one of the slaves trained to be afraid to look their master in the eyes. He had seen Circle mages acting like this, sad and broken things who experienced the worst part of what the Templar Order had to offer, and he can't stand the thought she could be like them. He heard the rumours, of course, but Calpernia never told him about her past, so he shakes his head in disbelief because the thought is truly ridiculous. This is a woman who fights for greatness. Would magisters ever allow a slave to lead them?
They wouldn't, and every other slave would fail. Calpernia, however, would never ask for their permission, the masters would be the ones begging her, he's sure.
So when the other day Samson asked, Calpernia wouldn't stop talking; maybe she had a whole long speech prepared, or maybe she is truly passionate about her quest. When she talks about her cause, there's something very close to admiration waking up inside his mind, because he wishes he had half of the motivation Calpernia has.
He shakes his head to get rid of the woman haunting him so mercilessly (And whose fault is that?, he snaps, angry at himself), and turns to Maddox who has been listening silently all this time, just an observer as always.
"Let's go."
Vera's "Thank you, sir" is so quiet he can barely hear it. Before they go, the Tranquil mage grabs a sheathed sword, usually left forgotten but Samson is going to need it now. He knows what he has to do. They all know what has to be done, know it all too well because they have seen it before.
The red monstrosities are too powerful. They could lose and an arm, a leg, they could be cut in half and crawl in their own guts, it doesn't matter. You can be sure they will be back, as long as they still have heads on their necks. Whatever they lose, lyrium will instantly replace, manifesting as red crystals and spikes, dripping blood and glowing as if to remind others it is waiting for them, too, for their first and only mistake. It knows one day you will make a mistake, and succumb to the howling inside your head. It is patient, and it waits.
You have to cut their heads off to make sure the people you once knew, good soldiers, won't be coming back as mindless creatures dominated by the red frenzy. People exposed to red lyrium (his people), can be divided into certain categories. First, there are the ones who couldn't stand it and died. Nobody ever asks about them, they were left, forgotten. Yet he could recite all their names if asked – but nobody ever asks. Then, there are the ones who still can take lyrium and don't change (not yet; but he can see their hands shaking, eyes hollow, always looking for a drop, just one drop will be enough, if he could just give them– ). There are some who used the power, let it transform them, but they still have control. Then there are the ones completely consumed, silent giants marching at the back of his troops. And at the very bottom of this list, there are the ones who lost their battle. Just like the man he sees now.
Samson can hardly recognise him, whole body deformed, his old templar armour broken, but there's still a faint spark in his eyes telling others he knows what needs to be done.
Maddox is standing by his side, not afraid of the monstrosity kneeling in front of them (not afraid of anything; he's as fearless as the sunburst symbol on his forehead), hands Samson a sword, his face blank. It needs to be done with a different sword, not with the cursed blade. The sword that belonged to Meredith is for killing; using it for this would be like mocking them instead of giving mercy. Samson grabs his old Kirkwall sword that's getting rusty. It will suffice because they never struggle, perhaps accepting their fate. Somehow the sword gets heavier every time. In the monster's eyes, there's an echo of the person he once was; Samson knows he has to hurry or else he could think the man can still be saved, and he can't afford having the luxury of hesitating when he needs to make a quick decision. What else can you do with a rabid dog? It should be easy.
It never is, he thinks as the blade swings down, cutting flesh and bones in one swift motion, and he can taste bile on his tongue. The soldier's– The monster's body collapses on the grass sprayed with blood. Samson wipes the blade. Maddox looks at the now headless body; there's almost a hint of compassion in his eyes.
As he goes back to his quarters, Samson can notice Calpernia talking to a group of Venatori mages. For a brief moment, he can't get rid of a thought that maybe one day he will have to kill her, too. He also knows damn well he wouldn't be able to lift his sword if she was the one kneeling in front of him, awaiting her execution. He's always been a sentimental fool, it started way back when he was a templar helping mages from the Circle, and continues even now.
He should hate all mages, not–
Samson shakes his head again. It's so easy to label people, isn't it?