Little Girl Lost
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything, Dragon Age is not mine. The characters, game content and materials in the following story are copyrighted to BioWare. Neither I, nor this story, are endorsed by or affiliated with BioWare, or its licensors or subsidiaries. I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. All Rights Reserved.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The artwork associated with this story was my inspiration for this tale. It's called "The mage and his apprentice" and was drawn by a DeviantArt artist known as rooster82. She's an amazing artist and I highly recommend you view her work posted at rooster82. deviantart. com (minus the spaces after the dots). I am using the image with the artist's knowledge and permission.
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Chapter 1: Lost and Found
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just."
Benedictions 4:10
..~~~**~~~..
Anders shivers in his coat as a cold gust of wind cuts through Darktown. Each blast of cold air threatens to extinguish the small fires that people huddle around for warmth. He keeps a tight grip on his satchel; its contents of food and medicinal herb worth more than gold in this part of Kirkwall. He is almost to his clinic when he sees a young, barefoot girl running as fast as her little legs would take her. She almost runs into him before she disappears around a corner only to be followed a group of men. The leader bravely declaring that they have her.
"Leave her alone!" Anders shouts after the men, who ignore him to pursue the child.
"She's trapped now," one of them says as they round the corner.
Before Justice can intervene, Anders takes off after them. Following them down the flight of stairs, he sees them try to corner the young girl. She looks frantically around for an exit, the fear in her face stabbing him in the heart. One of the men pulls out a pair of shackles and begins closing the distance. Without another thought, Anders jumps the rail, landing with his staff in hand between the girl and her would-be captors.
"Get away from her!" He growls, barely managing to contain Justice.
"What have we here," the leader sneers, "…a volunteer? Wonder how much we'll get for you."
Anders swings his staff around, catching the man square in the jaw with the metal capped end. The Grey Wardens taught him that in a fight he cannot rely solely on his magic. It was they who taught him that his magical staff is a weapon in more ways than one. A second man tries to flank him, Anders responds by jabbing him in the gut with the blunt end of his staff, knocking the wind from his attacker. Again he swings his staff around, catching the stunned man at the base of his skull.
A third man charges with his two-handed sword ready to strike. Anders side steps the attack, and pulls the child behind him in the process. He uses his staff to trip this opponent and send him stumbling and falling. Anders strikes the man in the head with his staff and renders him unconscious. He barely has time to block a new attacker wielding two daggers. The metal blades bite into the wood of his staff. The man suddenly jerks back, pulling Anders off balance and driving a knee into Anders' gut, forcing the breath from him. He collapses to his knees as his body struggles for its next breath. The rogue presses the attack, but Anders manages to roll out of the way. With a grateful gulp of air, Anders sweeps his staff around and knocks the rogue to the ground before he staggers to his feet. Five more men had now joined the fray, bringing the total of those standing to eight.
"You shall not have her." Anders warns as he feels Justice threatening against his restraints. The spirit is eager to battle this obvious injustice. Anders takes a defensive stance between the slavers and the child.
"You're a feisty one. Some pay extra for that." The leader says, wiping the blood from his chin with the back of his hand.
"He'd make a terrible slave. He talks too much." A familiar female voice calls out, providing a valuable distraction for Anders. "He also does that."
Her distraction provides just enough time for Anders to mutter his spell and summon the magical energies which, when released upon the leader, freezes him where he stands.
"Mage!" another man shouts releasing an arrow at Anders. It cuts his coat and grazes his arm. The archer soon meets his own end as one of Varric's bolts buries itself deep in the archer chest. Fenris joins the battle as well, showing the slavers the fury of former slave. A slaver's arrow flies and this one finds its mark in Hawke's chest causing her to stumble back.
"Hawke!" Anders screams, watching the raven-haired woman stagger. With a roar of fury the woman throws herself at the archer, spinning with her twin blades flashing. They strike home killing the archer before he can nock another arrow.
One of the slavers deftly avoids Varric's bolts as he charges towards the dwarf.
"Daisy! A little help here," Varric cries out. Merrill uses her magic to confuse and disorient the assailant. Varric uses the opportunity and takes down the slaver with a bolt to the heart.
Anders slices with the bladed end of his staff at a man charging him. The attacker dodges wildly to avoid the blow, rolling across the ground only to end up an impromptu sheath for Hawke's waiting blades.
Once the last enemy falls, Hawke collapses to her knees while looking down at the arrow in her chest. Anders and Fenris are beside her in an instant.
"How bad is it?" Fenris asks.
"I don't… think… it got past… my armor." She gasps, reluctant to touch the arrow.
"I beg to differ," Anders says, taking a closer look, "but I don't think it's serious. Let's get to my clinic I can take care of it there."
"Who were those men?" Varric asks.
"Slavers. They were chasing her." Anders turns towards the girl he had defended. She sits huddled in a corner, her knees brought up her chest as she tries pressing farther back into the corner. Her large dark eyes are wide with fear and her fat, sloppy dark curls frame a precious heart shaped face with dainty features.
"It's all right." Anders soothes while kneeling down to look the child in the eyes. "You're safe now."
Her incredible midnight blue eyes look at the carnage and then back as Anders, the fear in her eyes still painfully evident. "I can help you." Anders reassures. Suddenly, she bolts from the corner and wraps her tiny arms about his neck.
"Maker's breath child, you're freezing!" Anders exclaims when her icy skin touches his.
"Here, put this on." He removes his satchel before shrugging out of his coat to wrap about the girl. He then picks her and his satchel up and quickly makes his way to his clinic. "Come on…let's get them both to my clinic."
..~~*~~..
Anders is grateful beyond words that his clinic happens to be close; his muscles ache from the shivering and he can't feel his fingers.
"Agnes, take the child, I'm going to tend to Hawke." Anders says, handing the bundled girl to one the women who helps him with his clinic. Fenris gets Hawke onto one the nearby cots and unfastens her armor, but he is careful not remove anything until the healer can look at her wounds. Hawke's breathing is pained and shallow, but consistent. The elven warrior takes this as a good sign, but the amount of blood alarms both Fenris and Anders. The healer wastes little time before tending to his friend.
Merrill is so confidant in Anders' healing abilities and Hawke's immortality that she opts to see to the child. She makes her way over to where the elderly woman is cleaning away the dirt and checking for wounds. The girl can't be any more than eight years old. The child's dark and dirty curly locks reaching past her shoulders. She's slender, perhaps even a little underfed but not alarmingly so. She's wearing only a thin tattered sleeping gown that was once white, but is now dingy from age and stained with dirt and coal. The sleeping gown is far too light of a material for winter, so it strikes Merrill as odd that the child would wear something like this in such freezing temperatures.
"How is she doing?" Merrill asks.
"There's a small scar by her ear, but that's all. Not a bruise or scratch on her." Agnes points to the small blemish shaped like the letter "y" by the child's left ear.
"Isn't it odd that she would wear something like that in the middle of winter?"
"It is, but perhaps…" she looks up in time to see a pregnant woman walk in, holding her belly in such a way to indicate she's close to labor. "…excuse me." Agnes says before running to the woman and helping her to one of the more private cots.
The little girl looks up at Merrill, a heartbreaking sad look in her eyes. Her hands folded neatly in her lap where Agnes had set them.
"Hello there," Merrill says, sitting down next on the cot next to girl. "My name's Merrill. What's your name?"
The girl turns her sad gaze away from the elf and towards the floor.
"That's a very pretty bracelet. Was it a gift?" Merrill asks, referring to the simple leather thong with three wooden beads threaded on it that the girl has tied about her wrist. The girl looks at the bracelet and gently runs her fingers over the blue, black and pink beads. Her hand drops and shrugs, her eyes never leaving the floor.
"Do you live around here? In Darktown I mean, not Kirkwall in general."
The girl shrugs slightly, slowly returning her gaze to the Dalish elf sitting next to her. When Merrill asks about her family the girl shakes her head, the deep sorrow still haunting her dark blue eyes.
"Oh…" Merrill says in a sad tone. "Did you lose them during the Blight?" Again the girl shrugs. "Do you not remember anything? Your family? How you got to Kirkwall? Your name? Anything?"
She turns her gaze back to the floor and shakes her head.
"You don't talk much do you? Sometimes, people say I talk too much. I do tend to babble when I get nervous."
The hint of a smile plays across the child's lips. "Oh…careful, if you smile too much your face might crack."
Her smile broadens, but the sorrow never fully leaves her eyes. Merrill looks up at the approaching Anders. "Is Hawke all better?"
"She will be fine in a few days. How's our little friend doing?" Anders asks, taking a brief moment to examine the cut on his arm from the arrow.
"I don't know. She hasn't spoken a single word. But there doesn't seem to be any injuries." Merrill answers.
"She looks elf-blooded." Fenris notes, indicating the girl's slight build, delicate features and her slightly larger than normal eyes.
"But she doesn't have pointed ears." Anders points out.
"When a human and elf have a child, that child will be human. Why do you think elves choose to stay together?" Merrill explains.
"It's true." Fenris agrees. "I would wager that one of her parents is an elf."
"Where are your parents?" Anders asks, kneeling before the child. The girl just looks at Anders and shrugs.
"I don't think she remembers anything." Merrill suggests.
"Is that true?" He asks the child, who merely shrugs and looks back at the floor. "I wonder if she hit her head at some point?" he muses, carefully examining the child's skull for any injury. Not finding any he drops his hands and looks at her sad face. "Maybe you can stay here until we find your family."
"In Darktown?" Varric asks, suddenly becoming part of the conversation.
"I admit it's not the best place for a child, but there are other children around and someone is always here at the clinic. Plus almost every Ferelden refugee knows about this place. I can get word to Lirene about her for when her family starts looking for her," Anders suggests.
"You know Blondie, you barely manage to feed yourself on a daily basis. How are you going to care for a child?" The dwarf points out, then quickly continues before Anders gets too defensive, "Look, all I'm trying to say is that there's another place in Kirkwall, just as well known, where the girl will be safe and fed every day."
"I don't know…Hawke has made a lot of enemies."
"Wait! What?" Hawke exclaims, still a touch groggy from the numbing potion Anders gave her before stitching her wound closed.
"I meant the Chantry." Varric says, rubbing his forehead.
The child bolts off the bed, landing on her knees as she grabs the front of Anders' shirt. Her eyes are wide and filled a raw terror which raises many questions. She's shaking her head so hard her black curls are sticking in the tears running down her face.
"Oh, I don't think she wants to go the Chantry." Merrill says.
"If she doesn't want to go, I'm not sending her." Anders smooths the child's hair and does his best to calm her.
"I wonder what caused that reaction." Hawke asks.
"Could she be a mage?" Fenris asks.
"Will you cut her down where she stands if she is?" Anders snaps.
"I don't murder children." Fenris growls in response, his hands clenching into tight fists.
"Is she a mage?" Hawke asks quickly, trying to keep the conversation on track.
"She's at the age where her magic would start to manifest. If she is a mage the Chantry would send her to the Circle. There, Meredith will force the Rite of Tranquility on her because she either cannot or will not speak." Anders spitefully answers. He turns his attentions back the child. "Are you a mage?" he asks in a calmer tone. She keeps her silence and looks down at the floor, shrugging.
"Do you mind if I try something? It won't hurt, I promise." Merrill asks the girl.
"You're not doing blood magic in my clinic," Anders warns.
"There are other magics out there." Merrill says with a sigh, and returns her attention to the little girl still clinging to Anders' shirt. Merrill holds out her hands, palm up, promising again there'll be no pain. Reluctantly she takes Merrill's hands.
"By the Creators! Your hands are like ice!" Merrill exclaims. She quickly gathers her composure. "Now, I want you to relax. You may feel a slight tickle, but that's all."
Merrill whispers softly in her strange Dalish tongue, summoning purple and blue wisps of magic which dance about their hands. Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over. Merrill pulls her hands away, a puzzled look upon her face.
"Curious. It's like she touched by the Beyond but she's not a mage. I've never seen anything like it," Merrill reports.
"She is an abomination?" Fenris demands.
"No, she has no magic. It…it's like…like…oh I don't know how to explain it," Merrill says in defeat.
"What did you do?" Anders asks.
"It's an old Dalish trick. When a child is suspected of magic, the Keeper tests the child by summoning the tiniest bit of magic and seeing if there is a response. It's quite simple really. I can show you if you'd like."
"So she's not a mage and she doesn't want to go the Chantry. Is anyone else volunteering to babysit?" Hawke asks.
After a moment of silence, Varric speaks up. "Well Blondie, I guess there's nothing else to say except… Congratulations! It's a girl."
"Please don't say it like that." Anders says, suddenly aware of the responsibility he has just undertaken.
..~~*~~..
Just beyond the darkness is the whispering, persistent and just soft enough that he can't make out any words. He can only hear voices and just at the edge of the whispering, the beautiful, enticing music that dances hypnotically just out of range. He can barely hear it if he strains to listen, and he struggles to follow that hauntingly beautiful sound.
Flashes of blood and fire interrupt the music. Images of the Mother cackling and crying, reaching out in vain for the music she can no longer hear. Her clawed hands are clutching at empty air, hoping to capture the elusive melody. She suddenly sees him, sees that he can hear what she has lost. The Mother screams, and hordes of her hideously deformed Children swarm him. His magic is useless as they overpower him and carry him to the Mother despite his protests and struggling. The Children pin him as her sharp claws tear into him, pulling out his entrails to feast on in her desperate attempt to reconnect with her brethren. He's screaming while she cries in frustration and fury, her razor sharp claws continuing to tear him apart.
He wakes suddenly, safe in his own bed with his heart racing in his throat and his breath coming out in ragged gasps. He can feel Justice's attempts to reassure his friend that the Mother was destroyed, bringing up memories of the hideous creature's demise. Anders swings his legs over, plants his feet on the floor, and cradles his head in his hands doing his best to calm himself. Oh the joys of being a Grey Warden.
Sleep was not going to happen again tonight. He slips on his boots when a faint sound causes him to pause. Soft, fearful whimpers and grunts pull his attention to the child he rescued a week ago. She tosses and turns, trying frantically to escape her own nightmare. Anders gently touches her shoulder to wake her as he has done several times since she's been with him; her eyes fly open wide and are filled with a wild fear.
"You were having another nightmare," Anders whispers. "Do you want to…talk about it? Maybe draw it out? It might make you feel better." He suggests. She shakes her head, snuggles down, but doesn't close her eyes.
"All right then. Try to get some sleep. I'll be in the clinic if you need me." He says, tucking her in and smoothing her tousled hair.
"Anders…Templars!" a red headed woman quietly warns, as she rushes into his room. Anders curses under his breath. He grabs his coat and staff and by the time he turns back around the girl is out of bed with her arms held up ready to go with him. He scoops her up in his arms and escapes out the secret back door mere seconds before the Templars and their angry accusations fill the room. He can hear loud voices echo in the small corridor as he runs through its twisting, labyrinth like path to safety.
He pauses at an exit which leads to a small unoccupied, one room hovel at the edge of Darktown. He listens carefully for the sound of any movement beyond the secret door. Satisfied the room is empty he creeps in, setting the child down as he listens to the distant sounds of armored feet outside. He holds his breath, his eyes scanning the darkness, as the child behind him clutches the back of his coat. When he hears no more armored feet, he hazards a step forward, and then another, and then a third step. The door burst open and a lone Templar charges in, heading directly for Anders. He pushes the child back and uses his staff to trip the Templar, who nimbly dodges swinging his blade at the mage. Anders manages to bring up his staff to block the blow, only to have his staff knocked from his grasp.
The Templar grabs Anders by his coat and throws him across the room. Anders hits the opposite wall with a body racking thud and locks his legs to remain on his feet. He braces for the warrior's inevitable charge and manages to dive out of the way, grabbing his staff as he rolls to safety. The Templar snatches the staff and pulls Anders close, slamming his helmet into Anders' forehead. Dazed and disoriented, Anders releases the staff and stumbles back tripping over his feet and landing heavily on the earthen floor. Thinking he has the advantage, the Templar charges toward the crumpled mage, and grabs him by the collar of his shirt. As he is being hauled to his feet, Anders throws a handful of dirt into the Templar's helm. The Templar stumbles back, sputtering and trying to wipe his face through his helmet. Anders again collapses to the ground, his world spinning and his vision blurred and double, blood trickling into his eyes and threatening to blind him.
The Templar throws off his gauntlets and helm, frantically trying to clear the dirt away from his eyes. With blurred and tear streaked vision, he can just make out Anders stumbling to his feet, staggering towards his staff. A metal boot to the chest sends the mage sprawling. He brings his sword down, blindly catching his prey in the thigh.
Anders cries out as the blade slices through muscle and digs into the bone. He screams again as the warrior viciously twists the blade before pulling the weapon free. The Templar brings his blade up with the intention of finishing off the Apostate.
"No!" Anders cries out, seeing the girl pick up his staff, fearing that the Templar would mistake her for a mage a kill her without hesitation. Sensing the cry was not directed at him, the Templar spins, ready to attack. The child clutches the staff tightly and slowly backs away. Large fear filled eyes stare up and the heavily armored man.
"She's not a mage! Leave her alone!" Anders demands as he tries to stand, his wounded leg refusing to support his weight. He leans heavily on the wall trying to claw his way onto his feet.
"We shall see about that," The Templar says, menacingly closing the distance between him and the child. Anders mutters quietly to himself weaving his spell, but the Templar is faster, using his aura to purge the area of magic. Anders gasps, staggers and falls to the ground as his magical energies are viciously forced back into him. The girl also feels the burst. She stumbles back and falls to the ground, still clutching Anders' staff.
"Only a mage would have felt that." The Templar says, again raising his sword. Anders tenuous hold on Justice shatters as his eyes flash blue with the power of the Fade.
"No!" It is Justice who yells, launching himself at the warrior. The Templar cries out, dropping his sword as he throws the mage off. Justice lands on his side and wastes no time in using his good leg to kick the back of the knee, driving the Templar to the ground.
"You shall never have this child!" Justice declares as he leaps onto the downed Templar's back, quickly snapping the warrior's neck. The Templar slumps to the ground. Justice pushes himself away from the dead warrior, and retreats leaving Anders in control. The girl scrabbles to her feet and rushes to him, dropping his staff in the process. She wraps her arms about his neck.
"Are you all right? Did he hurt you?" Anders breathlessly asks, holding her close and breathing hard from the battle. The adrenaline is now fading, and pain is taking its place. He takes in a pained breath. She pushes back and looks at him with concerned eyes for an instant before digging into one of his pouches for a healing salve.
Anders waves her off. "I'll be fine. Just…just give me a minute. Maker, my head is killing me," he says as he tenderly touching the lump on his forehead, his fingers coming away bloodied. He leans his head back, muttering a healing spell quietly under his breath. The warm, comforting energies surround and fill him, knitting bone and flesh back together. The pain in his head is gone and his leg is strong enough to stand on, but everything still aches. He quickly retrieves his staff from where she had dropped it and heads back towards the secret door.
"We can't stay here," he says, holding his hand out to the child. His original plan was to make it to a safe house in Lowtown and stay there for the night, but judging by the approaching feet he needs a new plan.
Hawke…if they can make it to her home they'll be safe for the night. Anders leads the way through the tunnel, heading towards the nearest exit to Hightown.
..~~*~~..
Anders is feverishly pacing, his mind replaying the events with the Templar.
She felt the Templar's aura, only mages are susceptible to that. Anders thinks as his stride continues to eat floor.
"She's sleeping now. Want to tell me what happened?" Hawke asks, setting two glasses on a small end table and filling them with strong liquor.
"Justice doesn't let me get drunk anymore," Anders says wistfully in reference to the second glass.
"Drunk?" She teases, with a slow smile. "I'm just trying to calm your nerves," she counters, setting the bottle back on the bar and sitting in one of the two chairs flanking the fireplace.
"Templars raided the clinic tonight. We barely managed to escape," he begins, picking up one of the offered glasses, and downing about a third of its contents. He winces as the forgotten burn runs the length of his throat. "During our escape we encountered a Templar," he pauses, taking a much smaller sip of the drink Hawke had poured for him. "A Templar can extend their aura and negate magic. It's an unpleasant feeling. It's like having your breath forced back into your body. You've been present when a Templar did that to me," he explains setting the mostly empty glass down.
"I don't remember feeling anything like that," Hawke says, after taking a drink.
"I know. Only mages can feel it," he finishes the beverage before continuing. "She felt it, Hawke; she felt that Templar's aura. She's having nightmares every night, but she's not showing any other 'mage signs'. Justice is drawn to her…protective of her. He thinks of her as an 'essence of innocence'."
"Innocence inspires two reactions in people. People need to protect it or they need to destroy it. Could Justice be drawn to her just because she is so innocent?"
"He thinks of her as a kindred spirit…Neither of us can explain this attraction. I don't know what she is anymore, but I don't think she's human." He finishes off the drink.
"Do you think she's an abomination…merged with a spirit, like you?"
"There is no demon in her. I…tested her, like I did with that Templar that one time. You remember, what's his name…Keran. But even a spirit would have made itself known or defend itself and that didn't happen; besides, spirits do not seek out mortals. Justice can feel the fade in her, but spirits cannot exist outside the fade without a host."
"Maybe Merrill was wrong. Maybe she is a mage."
"Neither of us senses any magic in her."
"Then journey into the Fade to see what her nightmares are about."
"It's not that easy. The Fade is unimaginably huge and there are dangers, even for abominations. I don't know. I just don't know," Anders says, suddenly sounding very tired, as he rests his head in his hands.
"Why don't you get some sleep? I'll make sure no big bad Templars come to get you in the night." Hawke suggests with a teasing grin, her blue eyes sparkling.
"Thank you, Hawke. You have no idea what it means to have someone like you in my life." Anders says, wanting nothing more than to cup her face and kiss her but managing to resist the urge. She deserves someone with a future; someone better than him.
