Submitted for a Fergus romance challenge at Cheeky Monkeys. This story came about as a summary of a longer fiction I had in mind when I first started writing within Dragon Age. It would have been my first long fiction, but I ended up never posting it – and so this is what is left (with some modifications). It was going to be a Fergus/Brosca story, so I left that intact. It is sad – but I think appropriate for the challenge at least. So technically this is my first ever Dragon Age fanfic - even though it's never been posted.
L Cailan
Salvation is Created~
She is the one who avenged my family.
A small but sturdy hand reached out, her palm impossibly soft against his calloused one. Her grip was firm, assuring – he had not felt assurance in the touch of another since leaving Highever to fight the darkspawn.
A lifetime ago.
Fergus Cousland's eyes lingered, perhaps a bit too long and she met his eyes. Her voice, when she spoke was smooth and tender, washing him with a sense of sweet calmness.
"Atrast vala, stranger. Orzammar welcomes you. Do you come to help battle with us in the Deep Roads?"
As the newest Paragon of Orzammar she had reached out to the other parts of Ferelden in supplication, and he had answered that call for Fergus had felt no purpose since the death of his whole family. And now…
Her eyes were brilliant in the dim lighting – they flashed like rarest amber. He was unable to move, and loathed letting go of the sweet hand of salvation she had offered him.
Fergus had followed her that night, not knowing why. Perhaps it was being in Orzammar alone and seeking companionship, or perhaps it was simply because he wanted once more to gaze on the woman who had done what he had not been able to do. By her hand, Howe had been slain. By her hand, the Blight had ended.
And yet, she took all this in an unassuming fashion, not speaking of it, and not acting as if she wielded power. She was shy yet purposeful – humble.
Through the glittering high halls of the Diamond Quarter, he moved. Then down, down into the Commons with the yells and shouts of the peddlers and vendors all around him. Then even further, into the abyss, the run down, neglected parts of the city – and he shuddered when she stopped.
"You follow me, Ser."
"Only to know you more."
"There is little to know."
"You are Paragon, are you not? One to be revered."
"I am a Duster, Ser. Always was, and always will be. A change in station and a title does not erase the truth of what I am. I am forever branded by the marks on my face. Orzammar never wanted me, and those topside rejected me."
She had turned to look at him, those eyes piercing into his soul, rendering him helpless. He could only watch as she leaned down tenderly to help those who reminded her of herself, help those who could not help themselves. She saw in them what she had once been, perhaps what she would always be.
She knew pain, Fergus could tell. She knew rejection and uncertainty and the she had lost something bigger than herself. To distract herself the former Duster turned Paragon would throw herself into the task at hand for preparations took up most of her time. She was never alone, never without a word of advice or a honeyed laugh.
Fergus watched her – and he saw something missing in those amber eyes, something that he understood because he had felt it as well. Though surrounded by others, she was alone. It was during a rare moment one night before their expedition that he was gladdened by her voice once more.
"How fares Ferelden's new King?"
Fergus had turned to see something flickering in those eyes, a dispassionate glow – a deadened expression.
"He is well. He sends regards to those going into the Deep Roads for it is not an easy task."
"Yet, he would not come."
Fergus had turned to gaze into the impossible depths of the sadness in her eyes.
She loves. She loves like I loved, and she has lost as I have lost.
"It causes you pain that he is not here?"
The Paragon had finally turned away but not before Fergus had spied a glimmer of tears in her eyes.
"Many things have caused me pain."
Something in her voice had changed in that moment and his heart broke for her words were a cry for all she had loved and lost, all those things that she had held dearest and had to give up. He lowered his head as she had walked away.
They had fought side by side, heading into the Deep Roads, she the leader, the Paragon, and he the follower, one of many.
In Valja, Fergus had found a new, silent purpose. He had found a place for himself, and with each dent to his armor, each painful injury, he solidified his bond to those living beneath the mountains, below the rest of the world. But it was her eyes, her hope, and her strength that moved him, gave him the willingness to move on.
Weeks passed and it seemed to Fergus that life was filled with purposeful fighting, a cause that was just within their reach – and he fought with passion he had up until that point, never known existed.
Times of rest were rare, for often times the darkspawn came raging at them, and black blood was spilled for hours at a time. And when there was peace, Fergus found he wanted to know her – know her in ways that he had never wanted to know another woman.
"Why did you choose this?"
"This?"
"Being in the Deep Roads."
"I am tainted, Fergus Cousland. I am an outcast, no matter my station. Forever branded by my caste and now corrupted by the darkspawn. There is nothing I want more now than to fight for what is left of the dwarven people, of my nation."
He had watched her as her small chin lifted up and she sat tall, opposing whatever pain that life had dealt her.
"And you have never wanted more?"
"It was not meant to be. This is my purpose now."
She had turned from him abruptly so that he could no longer see her beautiful face.
"You are Paragon – a leader, a woman to be admired. You choose this, for whatever reason."
His words had made her turn.
"What choice is one given when everything they had lived for is gone?"
Perhaps in the end, all they DID have was what they were fighting for.
It was over much too soon.
Much too quickly the city of Orzammar lay before them as those who had survived the Deep Roads returned back home. Fighting had become all Fergus had known, and now without it, without her he had no purpose.
He had followed her for weeks, for months it seemed. He had helped her push the darkspawn back as far as the Trenches, and now…now he did not know where he would go. Just months ago he had only known her name, he had not even known this woman, this treasure, had existed.
Now, his life was completely changed. Where would he go if it wasn't with her? No one had ever shown him what she had – no one had ever been to him what she was. In her eyes, he had found his purpose.
As if she had read his mind, the Paragon spoke.
"Why did you come, Fergus? Why risk your health and your life to come here?"
He took a breath, his heart thundering within him wildly - an out of control beating.
"You said it best before. What choice is one given when everything they have lived for is gone?"
She had nodded.
"Where will you go now?"
Words had never been spoken so longingly. Silence had never been so baiting. Love had never felt so real.
"I will go where you go."
His whisper was truer than he had ever imagined he could be – and he never wanted the moment to end.
"My purpose is you. My life is yours."
The amber depths of her eyes reflected what he was feeling.
"And so I ask you once more – where will you go now?"
Her hand reached out to trace the lines of his face and Fergus swallowed, his eyes fluttering closed.
"Highever."
Their kiss felt real, felt like forever, like home.
They stood outside of Orzammar.
"Look at that."
She looked up in awe at the sky and Fergus gazed up as well with curiosity. His thumb traced along hers, his hand tightly entwined in hers.
"What?"
His voice held slight amusement and she turned to give him a look.
"The sky. I've never seen a sky as blue as that. Everything is different now, Fergus. Different and new, because of you – you have given me back my reason, you have made living worthwhile once more."
The man smiled.
"If you only knew how much you have given me, Valja. Words will never express what I am feeling now."
His eyes were warm as they gazed into her amber ones and she dimpled, her cheeks flushing with life.
"Then you will just have to prove that by marrying me, won't you?"
His smile was all the answer they both needed.
And so man and dwarf married in a ceremony that made all things new and that tied surface and stone together forever.
Though Fergus had always known it would happen, even when it did he was not prepared for it. The deep roads began calling her one late spring morning, six years after their wedding day. In spite of his soothing whispers and the tender touches, the Paragon shuddered and screamed in her sleep, even her sure strength not a match for the call of the taint, which became stronger and stronger with each passing day.
Though it seemed silly, he called in healers from all over Ferelden, hoping against all hope that something could be done, that she could be helped even though he knew it was futile. He put on his bravest face when finally she made the decision to return to Orzammar and he went at her side, his head held high even as his heart plummeted to the depths of despair.
They headed back into the stone in early fall and he followed just as he had the first time, those many years ago when she had stolen his heart from him. Each day that passed was shorter than the last and Fergus feared the day when he could no longer follow her. He prayed that it never came, prayed that this was a nightmare that he would wake up just as he had mornings before when they had been happy, when his life had been complete again.
But that day finally came. She stopped, turned to him.
"This is it, my Salroka."
Amber eyes glowed as she touched his face, turning him towards the distant stony cliffs of the Dead Trenches.
"They wait for me."
Fergus could see her face in the gold red shadows. He could see no fear in her – she was magnificent amidst adversity, even when he could not muster a sound. He felt the heat of her tiny hand as she slipped it into the confines of his own.
He relished the moment, for it would be their last. Each second that passed was their last, it was terrifying; inconceivable.
"What do you see, dearest?" she whispered, reaching up to turn his face towards the pale gold and reds of the rock and the burning and smoldering rivers of lava and fire.
Fergus' eyes watered and trembled, shaking his head.
"I cannot do this."
His words were broken but when he turned to gaze down on her, she was smiling.
"Never say that. This is not the end, Fergus."
She pulled on his hand gently.
"Come."
Fergus followed her numbly, allowing her to lead him to the side of the stony pathway leading into the Trenches. She sat and she turned her glorious eyes towards his, reaching out to pull him down with her, and placing his head in her lap. Her fingers wove into his hair, calming him with their touch. His eyes were tear-filled as they gazed up into hers.
"How can you be so calm?"
She smiled at his whisper.
"Why do you weep, Fergus? You are safe in my arms, are you not? You will always be safe. This is the end of my journey, but just because yours must continue does not mean that we will be apart forever. I just go early, and one day you will join me. There are others there, beyond this point, this life. I will join them until I can find you once more and then you'll be with me, in my arms again. This I promise."
He watched as she turned her face up, to the distance where she would go.
"And you must stay here even if you do not want to. You must take care of her, because I cannot."
Only then did he sense a flicker of pain.
"You must never let her forget, because I won't be here. If you have loved me all this time the way I believe you do, you will never let my memory fade."
Fergus nodded sitting up and then reaching for her, holding her close, breathing in the scent of the earth, the stone, the armor and the spring blossoms that had always scented her hair.
"I never will. You will not be forgotten, not by your people and not by me. You are their Paragon and you have been my salvation and together we have created a love and a family that I never though I would have again."
They stood never letting go of each other, and she reached up one last time to smooth the unruly thick strands of his hair.
"Then you must never forget that this could have been worse, our lives – much worse than this. I am glad you are here, Fergus. It is your face that I wish to take to eternity with me."
Willing himself this time not to cry, he nodded stoically.
"I am here, my love."
"As am I, Fergus. As I always will be. Don't give up now, you will never be alone. You will always be loved."
He could only gaze at her.
Fergus stood unmoving, as still as the stone that surrounded him as he watched her move across the small, rocky outcropping and stand there for a moment looking beyond the Trenches, perhaps beyond the deep roads themselves. She would be, to him, as formidable as any of the foes he had fought, and any he would ever fight, even though in this place she seemed small. She was woman, yet as strong as any man, Duster and yet Paragon, destroyer of the Archdemon and creator of his salvation.
She moved, head held high, sword drawn and he watched as she became smaller and smaller, a tiny dot against the blazing red and oranges around her, even smaller until she was gone, until she was swallowed up by the stone, gone from him now, but not forever.
Then there was silence, a heavy silence around him as Fergus let out a choked sound, dropping his head.
And you, my Paragon, my love, will always be loved too. I will never stop and I will never forget.
Somewhere far away he heard the darkspawn.
They found her body days later. Fergus' heart had stopped at the thought of what he would find, but he wasn't able to stay away.
She had made her way beyond the Trenches in her travels, fallen near a small fire that she had been warming by. He found her sword and dagger nearby, covered with a coating of dry blackness. He held the weapon in his hand, clutching it tightly for it was a part of her, something she had held, the object with which she had sought vengeance, sought peace, created a future for Ferelden and for her own people. A memory of her, and one he would not allow others to forget.
As her husband, they allowed him a moment alone in those cavernous spaces, and he held her safe in his arms just as she had held him her last few living moments. And for just a moment, he felt complete again.
But because those kinds of moments were fleeting, it was over just as quickly as it had come.
Orzammar revered her as they should have; she had been their Paragon and she was buried with great splendor, and all those who had known her, and those who had loved her were there. They moved through the crowds in the Diamond Quarter, hundreds of them, all to pay homage to a small woman who had never realized her whole life how heavy a burden she had carried, how much of the world had been on her shoulders.
He saw those whom she had told him about throughout the years in those crowds, saw the anguish and the love in their faces. The Orlesian bard placed a rose upon her casket, tears flowing freely. The Qunari soldier stood in all his finery, pausing only for a moment, and then bowing low. The Antivan assassin placed a hand upon her final resting place, dropping to his knees. He even recognized the red haired and heavily bearded dwarf who arrived in well made armor. He also knelt before her his face a mask of admiration and affection.
Then came the Ferelden royalty.
Fergus had not seen him since his coronation, but in Alistair Theirin's eyes he recognized himself.
He loves her as I do.
He saw the King's lips trembling slightly as he knelt, lowering his head for a long silent moment before placing a single dried bloom upon the surface of her casket with unsteady fingers.
He has always loved her and yet…yet I have been the blessed one, I have been the one granted her love and her hand. All is not as bad as it could have been.
When the King stood up, his eyes met those of Fergus' and a silent knowledge passed between them.
I have been blessed. I have been given a second chance. The Maker chose me, and it could have been someone else – she could have been someone else's, but she was mine, even if only for a short time.
Taking a huge breath, Fergus left the crowds of mourners, moving lower into the massive city of stone, through the Commons and then into those parts that no one but those like her wandered. It was here that Fergus stopped, and here that he dug into the earth and stone, burying her blades in the place where she had been most comfortable.
Paragon now, and forever to be remembered, but born here, born without purpose and without the chance of salvation. She had build herself up, and touched everyone around her. Here, Fergus cried – allowed himself only this one moment, for he would never forget that she had saved not only herself, but him as well.
Then he turned without looking back and made his way back to the little sleeping baby he had left – a tiny girl only three months old who would never know her mother and who would rely on him to keep the memories alive.
Because he had promised.
A single red rose lay on the green grasses that covered the spot where Fergus had designated for his second wife's gravesite. The bloom shivered slightly in the coolness of the fall air. It was a bright spot of color in a field of green.
Here in this field behind his father's old estate, he had buried all his family. With each passing day he had maintained the small plots of land, keeping the grasses trimmed and the flowers fresh. Here, he had ventured many a time, vowing never to forget those that had gone before him - those who had made him the man he was.
Here he had also placed the graves of his first wife and son – nearby to those of his parents and sister.
Finally at the crest of the hill, he had placed a stone facing the horizon on which now lay the red rose. Here he had taken a part of her – a small stone from Orzammar – to symbolize the place where he had buried his Valja – his Paragon and purpose. Here he had come nearly each day for six years now.
Sometimes Fergus could almost hear her whispering to him in the wind and the sounds around him – if he stood in the stillness and allowed himself to believe it could be true. She was with him, just as she had promised.
"Daddy!"
A child's voice - a sweet, musical sound that had never failed to rouse Fergus from his painful past and turn him towards a hopeful future. A little girl's voice - his little girl's voice.
"I have them Daddy!"
Fergus turned to see his little girl cresting the top of the gently sloped hill, her small yet powerful legs making short work of the endeavor. In her small hands she held the remaining roses - the ones meant for his late wife and a son who had never grown to have his own children, to meet the love of his life, and to truly experience what the Maker had meant for him.
"Come, my little one," he urged, leading his daughter to the small tombstones. "Remember?"
The little girl smiled up at her father, cornflower blue eyes sparkling with a glorious innocence that Fergus wanted to capture and hold dear forever. This child, his child was not yet jaded, not yet touched by the pain of life.
The little girl moved forward with confidence, crouching with familiarity by the tombstones.
"There's grandma and grandpa."
Her voice captured delight.
"And Aun'Lissa."
She placed her own rose near those stones, standing up then and moving to the side.
"And there is Oriana, right daddy? And Oren?"
My family – my first loves.
"Indeed, my little one."
The little girl moved with confidence towards the edge of the hill facing the horizon after placing the roses on the graves. She stared with curiosity at the red rose already lying in the grasses.
"You already gave mama her flower," she said curiously looking at her father, and then reaching up with sturdy arms to be lifted up.
He obliged, never as happy as when his second child was smiling at him.
"I did," he replied.
When he lifted her, she reached up to give him a kiss and in that moment, with his daughter looking at him, he was reminded poignantly of his second love. The love that he had never imagined, and had never expected. In Elora's eyes he saw a reflection of what Valja had been – the good parts, the happy parts, the parts that he would cherish forever. He saw love. He saw acceptance. He saw all the second chances he had received.
He saw his Paragon.
"Come little one," he whispered to his daughter, pressing a kiss to her sunny yellow hair. "It is time for supper."
A single red rose sat by his bedside – it was always identical to the one he placed on the grave of the woman, the blessing, that had given him back his life.
He never allowed his flower to wither for always he wanted a memory of her, no matter how many years would pass. Never did he want little Elora to forget where she had come from, who her family was. Although she was of Cousland nobility, Elora was also of Stone and Paragons, and it was that part of her that Fergus wanted to preserve. It was that part of her that he had promised Valja he would never allow their daughter to forget.
She was human, and she was much more than that. She was a result of Fergus' purpose – for sometimes in second chances, salvation was created.