Title: Spellwork

Fandom: Dragon Age

Characters/Pairings: Calpernia, Samson, Livius Erimond, Corypheus; Sampernia

Rating: M

Warnings: canon typical violence; references to past abuse; spoilers for DA Inquisition but nothing serious; Tranquility mentioned; references to Calpernia's entry in the World of Thedas vol. 2 that might be considered spoiler–ish?

Summary: She is not the one Corypheus chooses, and something inside her twists in burning agony when the god she serves speaks to Samson instead.

Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine, although the writing certainly is.

A/N: Title from a song by Austra.

What I think is kind of funny, kind of sad, is that while Thedas has to deal with the mages vs templars war, Corypheus has both the Red Templars and the Venatori working for him. He managed to "unite" both sides, and has Calpernia, a mage, and Samson, a templar, as his generals. Sure, he's an evil darkspawn magister who's the Big Bad here, but it makes you wonder…


It wasn't a fight, it was a slaughter. The smell of burning flesh hits her, and Calpernia turns her head in disgust. Her magic demands sacrifices, but she will never get used to this odour. She steps away from the charred remains of a slaver, feeling her fingertips tingling with an echo of a spell. She watched him burn in the flames she created. He screamed like a pig, showing the whole world he was nothing but scum that had to be removed. Perhaps she should consider herself a monster because she enjoyed killing him, but can't help but feel righteous.

The Elder One's forces were moving forward like he ordered, nothing significant happened until her men informed her there's a caravan ahead. When she saw it, her initial decision was to leave it alone; no glory could be found in killing merchants transporting goods to poor villages. Then she noticed a symbol painted on one of the wagons, and her fire sang inside her heart.

It certainly meant nothing for everyone else, but Calpernia recognised it, she's seen it in the letters she receives; sometimes these pieces of paper provide useful information, sometimes they grant freedom. She would like to free all slaves in Tevinter, but she's not naïve to believe it will be easy, so she has to concentrate on her priorities and give freedom to those who can later provide more useful, who are literate and can most likely take care of themselves in their new lives without chains. At times Calpernia wants to laugh or cry at the thought they see her as their saviour but she has to choose only some of them, while sentencing the rest to death.

She has seen the symbol, she memorised them all along with the names of men who use them. They think they are clever, hunting and selling people for coin while the rest of the world is in the middle of a war. Seeing one of the signs somewhere else than on paper made her head spin. Hearing she's from Tevinter, people here cringe, some spit, others curse; Calpernia tried to ignore that – until she realised why they see the Imperium like that. Blood and chains, golden thrones on rotting corpses. She looks at the dead slaver again, and she can taste bile in her throat.

She orders her soldiers to free people chained together like nothing more important than cattle. They are afraid, but so weak and starved not a single one of them tries to fight or run. Calpernia knows they would gladly accept death. She's giving them a chance, instead, hoping they don't waste it. They're most likely Ferelden, but it was a Tevinter slaver who took them, therefore she felt obliged to react. They are hundreds of miles away from the Imperium, yet scum like this man always find their way to 'represent' their homeland. People all around Thedas don't see the culture, traditions, past glory, but slaves drenched in blood. She'd like to change it, too, but now it's not the right time. Once she gets what she wants, all Thedas will notice the new face of the Tevinter Imperium. She has to concentrate on her current task first; serving a god is not easy, but she's not the one to complain.

She was the one who ordered to attack the caravan, and she's the one taking the full responsibility if the Elder One asks why they aren't moving forward fast enough. Well, she couldn't make the Red Templars obey her (they may fear her, but she's not their general), though speaking to Samson was enough. Thankfully, he didn't ask her why, just commanded his men to assist her.

She likes that about him; he never asks, never questions, and it's so refreshing because truth to be told, Calpernia is getting tired of all those whys and whats an hows she always has to hear. Although the fact that she managed to find something in Samson she genuinely likes makes her worried she's getting soft – which is a preposterous idea, but on some level Calpernia knows it may just be true. Besides, what happened between them recently has left her uneasy and anxious, waiting for Samson to attack and mock her once he has seen her so vulnerable she feels disgusted with herself she ever allowed something like that to happen.

She's not exactly avoiding him, though she keeps her distance, only sometimes feeling his eyes watching her, just like now. Perhaps he wonders why she's doing this; all Tevinters are evil, aren't they? Calpernia feels so bitter she wants to laugh.

One of the people she freed, an elderly woman with a long grey braid, turns to look at Calpernia. After a moment of hesitation, she walks closer. One of the Venatori gives Calpernia a questioning look, readying his sword; she slightly shakes her head, She poses no danger, let her.

The woman's back is hunched, face wrinkled; she's missing three fingers in her left hand, has a nasty scar on her cheek, and Calpernia briefly wonders how tough this woman is, if she managed to survive all this. The lady looks at her with a timid smile, not coming closer, keeping her distance because she's visibly afraid. When she speaks her voice shivers.

"Bless you, good lady. Andraste herself must have sent you!"

Calpernia purses her lips but doesn't reply, feeling irrationally angry. She's not a 'good lady', and certainly she was not sent by Andraste, that's the Inquisitor's job from all she heard. It's all unimportant, however, what really matters is that these people are safe, for now, and if they're lucky they live long enough to never see any slavers again.

The lady bows her head, and Calpernia wants to scream (Do not treat others like your masters, do not bow down to m e !); her hands curl into fists, flames threatening to erupt.

Suddenly the world stops moving as a small girl comes forward; Calpernia swallows a scream, and has to bite her tongue to taste blood. The girl is a thin, such a thin thing, in colourless rags torn in places. She has her fair hair in a long ponytail, her face is covered in so many freckles her pale skin is barely visible. Her eyes are big and, incredibly, so full of life.

The girl smiles at her. Calpernia opens her lips but words won't come; scars on her back itch. She can almost feel that heavy metal collar around her neck, and someone pulling the chain so hard she falls on her knees but has to continue walking so they won't see how exhausted she is, how scared, not a person but a thing with nothing else but her name that still tastes odd when she says it out loud. But it belongs to her and to her only, and the thought that they can take everything but her name (Calpernia. She has to repeat it again and again, so she won't forget; she can't forget, if she forgets she will disappear. Calpernia. Calpernia. Calpernia.), it is the only reason she still finds strength to get up and walk.

She has to take a deep breath to calm the magic within her. The girl's mother, or sister, or simply a woman who took care of her, grabs her hand, thanks Calpernia with a look of her sad eyes, and they walk away.

She turns from the slaves, because there may be another little girl with freckled face among them, and she refuses to remember. Her eyes scan the group of mages and templars, noticing Samson talking to one of his soldiers. She narrows her eyes, maybe they're talking about her, maybe she wants him to talk about her, then she sees Maddox standing behind the general like a shadow, looking at the carnage around them with a calm expression and blank eyes.

Samson is so overly protective of that Tranquil mage it makes Calpernia wonder what is their story. But no questions were ever asked, of course. She can't look at the man, at what is left of his magic, at his polite smile. They say Tevinters are savages, but to do something like this to a man, to a mage...

When Maddox looks at her, Calpernia can only stare, hypnotized by the sunburst symbol on his forehead. He gives her a gentle smile, and she feels a shiver running down her spine. She turns her back to him, ashamed, fighting with an urge to run away as far from him as possible. She shouldn't treat him like this, she shouldn't feel so repulsed, but she can't look at him without seeing not a person but a hollow shell, wondering if this is her fate if she fails.

She killed a slaver who begged her to spare his life, pleading in Tevene, offering her gold and jewels. She ordered to kill his men, but she had to be the one who killed him. His pleas turned into screams when she summoned flames. Calpernia watched his blood boil, face melt, and flesh burn until there was nothing left of him.

She should feel proud and triumphant that she's one step closer to her goal.

She should.