Rare is the Sword

by Jammcakes

Levi realizes that there is something that terrifies him even more than an Archdemon. [m/m]

1. Chapter 1

By the time the sign posts revealed that Rosenwall Keep was within range, Levi had almost completely rubbed out the crease that idiot courier had made: an arduous effort, given that the carriage's wheels seemed to find every crack and cobble in the road. After the fourth hour of working raw circles against the envelope, his thumb had grown a pinched red. "Should've just asked a sodding mabari to deliver the damn thing," the elf mumbled, finally looking up from the bent corner, "probably would've shown up in better shape."

Outside, several orange maple leaves shuddered against the glass window for a moment before an autumn breeze spiraled them down to be crushed by a passing trail of hooves and spokes. Levi inclined his neck just enough to be able to catch the occasional swish of a tail or flicker of an ear rolling in and out of his line of sight. The elf squirmed against the overstuffed cushion and the thick of his black hair fell around his face. The recruits and the rest of his party were following closely behind on carts and horseback beneath the open sky while he… he had the privilege of being wrapped up and crammed into this oversized nug oven due to some officer homecoming tradition.

The courier had shown up with the envelope and a mule drawn carriage outside their camp the night before their departure to Rosenwall. There was little explanation other than the elderly dwarven driver, who lifted his cap and smiled with what remaining teeth he had left before handing him a hastily quilled piece of parchment:

First Warden sent it from Sina's Watch for your return home. Apologies, but indulge him for my sake. –E.

"Shall I relay a message back to the First for you?" Sina's courier sniffed and Levi responded by passing the note off to the nearest mage to set it ablaze.

The only one who had been sourer about the request was Alida. Levi's filly had spent the first hour along the road back bucking the authority of her temporary handlers, and her rider was far from surprised to witness the sight of his temperamental palomino galloping free alongside the carriage sometime into the second hour.

"Mighty true friend you have there, messere," the old dwarf had chuckled through the coach divider.

"Indeed," the elf smiled, watching as a panicked Warden wrangled the horse back into formation, "a rare thing these days."

His driver was certainly grey, but no Warden. Even the servants stationed at Sina's Watch would've been informed by The First to address their passenger by his appropriate ranking. But if Sina's Wardens sent the socially naïve driver as a slight against him, then the insult was lost. There was no nosy inquiring of the business of his current trip, or any transparent flattery for past campaigns. The dwarf was silent for the better part of their journey, and any noise he did make came in the form of a light cough or a few hummed upbeat bars of what sounded like an old drinking song. No, he was definitely no Grey Warden, but the past few hours in silence almost made the elf ask if he would consider a change in careers. Some of his Warden-recruits could stand to learn something from this man.

The perpetual quiet was what made Levi's ears perk at the sudden quickening of hooves. A rider passed by the carriage widow, too swift for him to recognize. The hooves slowed to a murmur and the wood beneath the fat cushion creaked when Levi tried to lean forward for a better listen. Through the divider, he saw the dwarf's greying head bobble in a series of quick nods before once again catching a glimpse of the Warden, this time surging ahead at full gallop.

Before he could ask, his driver knocked on the screen with two large knuckles. "Pardon the disturbance again, messere. Your company wanted me to inform you that the caravan would be riding ahead. Something about keeping with proper introductions?"

"Ah yes," the weary passenger replied, rocking back to his original position against the scratchy tongue of the seat. The white envelope slid neatly from his hand into his lap. "Always with the appearances," he groaned, tracing a single fingernail around the edge of the blue wax seal emblazoned with the Wardens' roaring gryphon. He buffed his thumb over it to work out the bits of excess wax off. "Always with the damn appearances."

His company fanned out around the coach, a rising symphony of various encouragements from them as they spurred their mounts past. Jinn. Schultz. Ral. All of them morphing into frenzied blurs of blue and silver streaks, leaving him with the gentle blaze of falling orange leaves in their wake. Alida passed, now hitched next to what appeared to be Nanaba's black gelding. The filly gave a strong jerk of her flaxen head towards the carriage before submitting her complete focus on keeping up with the powerful speed that her partner and his rider had set. Soon, she was gone too.

With the horseback riders pressing forward, the snorts and squeals of the recruitment wagon came next. A pair of young brown stallions chomped alongside next, their hot breaths briefly fogging the window as they strained past. The large cart behind them rocked at a brisker pace, and the net of overlapping arms and white knuckled grips along its edges suggested that the recruits had to cope with the faster speed as well. Most had hunkered down so that only the tops of their heads were visible as scattered bushes of reds and yellows and browns; which was what made the sight of the boy sitting upright all the more unsettling.

A plaster skinned face, chiseled by a confident smirk, the boy's shaggy dark hair swirled like smoke up from the sharp green eyes that lay fixed straight ahead on their destination. Levi watched him as the cart passed. The recruit's name escaped him, but it didn't matter. He had seen that face before, and not just as one of Hange's sketches within the sealed recruitment files in his lap. No, he had seen that same face on countless others boldly taking the silver chalice filled with Darkspawn blood into their own hands, smile curling as they would raise it to their lips. This one, too, would also not be among the survivors tonight.

The cart lurched forward, but Levi caught himself by extending long leather boot against the opposite seat. A crunch made him look down, and he saw with a breath of relief that the envelope in his lap bore no new scars from him to soothe. The wheels crackled with a much quicker tempo, and the drizzle of orange leaves slowed as they passed beneath a row of tall familiar pines. Had he been on horseback, he would've been able to count exactly how many beats it would be before the shade would give way to open sky, and with it—

The towering pillars of ivy straining for grand alabaster spirals, and the swooping arches inlaid with glass impressions of the flower held so dear by the fort's namesake.

"Rosenwall Keep," announced his driver, turning towards him as they clomped through the open gate. He touched the brim of his cap, and with the short-grey beard crinkling around his smile, he added: "Welcome home, messere,"

Fashioned under the intention of being the summer palace for the visiting Orlesiancrown, construction on Rosenwall had begun late into the Empire's sixty year occupation of Ferelden. However, once resources were redirected to quell the resulting rebellion, the keep had been left unfinished and eventually abandoned, after the Ferelden victors wanted nothing to do with the blatant eyesore of their enemy's architecture on their native land. The property eventually fell to the Wardens by a generous backer, who agreed to complete the project at less than a third of its original scale.

The renovation had married Ferelden practicality with Orlais' unique flair, and Levi found the coupling to be a pleasing result: plain white stone made the occasional accented gold feathered wing and rosebud glow with the afternoon sun; green lapels of overgrown ivy swayed by his carriage window, shaking as they passed under their perches beneath the simple arches leading into the courtyard.

"—And to think I spent three HOURS polishing my armor to receive Rosenwall's newest Wardens!" A voice blared as they entered the inner yard. "But I don't SEE any new Wardens here—just a bunch of BUG EYED freshly hatched FLEDGLINGS that look like they just woke up from a nice cozy nap!"

As usual, Levi heard Shadis long before he saw him, and when he did, he noticed that the Master of Horses had exchanged his usual riding leathers for full warrior regalia. Parried sunlight glinted across each segment of his silver breastplate as his equally adorned steed high-stepped around the circumference of the yard.

"WELL then consider this your wakeup call, FLEDGLINGS," Shadis continued, "Darkspawn don't need to SLEEP. They don't need to EAT, and they ATTACK when they damn well please. FOUR YEARS AGO—"

A strained note tugged at the man's brass chords. "Four years ago, a vagrant horde of Darkspawn besieged our stronghold at Maria's Vigil. The keep was lost; the surrounding villages completely obliterated."

Wrinkles cracked around the warrior's wide eyes, his quiet tone hardening, but equally startling. "I'll be damned. I'll be damned to seven hells and back before I let the same thing happen here. And my advice to you, fledglings, is that you start feeling the same. We don't have the natural defenses Sina's Watch has—YOU are ROSENWALLS. YOU are our main defense. So, I suggest you LEARN to ACT like it, and QUICK!"

Silence washed over the yard aside from the noise Shadis' mount made when he jerked his brown mane towards the carriage. Shadis' grimace was almost audible. "Now then," he said, "Now, that I have your full attention, I'm still sure none of you quite grasp the HONOR, the PRIVLEDGE you little fledglings had to be recruited by one of our finest Wardens. Second to ONE within these hallowed walls, but I know even The Commander of the Grey would agree: Second to NONE on the battlefield."

A small rumble of agreement circulated outside, and the elf scoffed wondering how long Shadis had been sitting on that quip.

"Andraste would burn a SODDING thousand times again if it meant such a sword would guard her side in the next life: A sword rumored to have been sunk into the heads of a pair of Hurlocks for the sole purpose of gaining enough leverage to launch itself towards an Ogre's nape to take the head down in a single swipe!"

True, Levi thought, straightening the cuffs of his boots with tug.

"AND I'd wager a dragon's SHIT weight in gold there's quite a few heads among us now that he also wouldn't mind sinking those blades of his into either." The courtyard roared.

"Also, very true," he muttered as he wrapped around the blue cloak that rested neatly folded in a pile next to him.

"REGARDLESS," Keith boomed, and the laughter immediately submerged. "Regardless…" he repeated quieter, "whatever prior or future grievances you may have during your time here…believe me, any Warden here would pillage the Seat of the Maker HIMSELF if they knew-"

Levi stood and checked the window's faded reflection to make sure his hair fell over the tips of his pointed ears.

"—that he was riding into battle alongside ROSENWALL'S CONSTABLE OF THE GREY, Levi Rivalle!"

The carriage door opened, and a collective thud of fisted salutes met him as he stepped out onto the folding step the dwarf had set out. The sunlight made him wince for a second. When he recovered, he first saw his riders: they were mounted and silent statues that had gathered beneath the shade of the arches. His eyes fell on Alida, still hitched to Nanaba, and the young horse fidgeted, but soon steadied after a sharp snort from Rift, the old gelding, corrected her. The recruits sat snug in their carts, and Keith Shadis had been more than accurate in the depiction of the wide-eyed "fledglings" that were fixed on him with their wind tussled hair.

Levi surveyed the yard once again before his gaze drifted up to the slope of the keep's tower where he could just make out the gold curtain breezing in and out of the open window, and beneath his cloak, the files crunched as his hand tightened around them.

Shadis trotted into his line of sight, snatching his focus back down. Both man and mount's mouths were pressed into a hard line as the horse gave a short irritated flick of his tail. Keith inclined his head forward, and Levi gave a rare prayer of thanks to the Maker for the chill of the salted gust that he took in with his breath.

"In Peace," he began, "Vigilance."

"In War," others joined in, "Victory."

"And in Death," they all finished together, "Sacrifice." He hopped down off of the cart's folding step, boots clicking against the cobblestone as he crossed towards where the wagon loaded with his recruits was parked. "It is the duty of a Grey Warden to remember that there is a great threat to this world: a threat that others have the luxury to forget about, and a threat that only we can challenge. Though," he voice dipped as he passed from one face to the next, "I doubt any of you will forget the things you've witnessed on your journey here."

Their backs curled uncomfortably away from him. The dark haired boy with unsettling green eyes, however, remained fixated on him, and again, Levi found himself staring back longer than he should have. "And…" he said, passing over the solemn faces that had once come so eagerly to him. I'm sorry said the trapped breath in his chest, but his words corrected it: "…And I look forward to seeing you again tonight."

He turned, Keith barked, and the world unfroze around him. The courtyard burst into full bloom as garrisoned Wardens came out to intermingle and exchange stories with the returning scouts. Levi darted around the unloading carts, and the shuffle of mules and horses towards the gate of the keep's interior, where he found his riders busying themselves with their unpacking as well.

"Ral."

A petite red-head assisting with the unhitching of the horses immediately turned. Switching off the reins of the chestnut mare from her right to left hand, she saluted promptly. "Constable?"

Petra Ral wore light leathers similar to his own, and her grey tunic bore large clumsy stitches at the waist and thigh where it had been taken in. She was slight, especially for a human, with large hazel eyes reminiscent of his mother's. On more than one occasion, Levi had thought to ask the girl knew if she knew of any elven heritage, but a quick look at the round curve of her pink ears always made him think better.

Levi brushed the sides his head with the flat of his palms, "Once you've finished with the horses, personally see to it that our Dwarven guest's mules get fed and stabled for the night. Grab Shultz and tell him that I want the two of you in charge of tonight's preparations."

"Tonight's…" The girl's pitch dropped along with her gaze, and her saluted fingers began to fidget with the excess cloth bunched beneath them. Only when the mare she was attending to nudged the back of her neck, did she respond. "Yes Constable," she said, stroking the side of the horse's face, "I'll see to it at once. Shall…shall I tell them to expect the Warden-Commander tonight for…" She swallowed the word again.

"I don't know if the Warden-Commander will be attending The Joining tonight," Levi finished, shading his eyes against the sun to scan the length of the keep until he found highest window in the fortress' uppermost spire, "I know he'd like to but..."

"But the Warden-Constable will be attending," Petra recovered, easing into a gentle smile, "which means all of us will see to it that the Grand Foyer is spotless, and that not a hair is out of place. Maker willing…" She added as her horse scattered her bangs with a hot snort.

"It appears as though Tabris intends on making your work that much more difficult."

"As always," Petra laughed with a playful roll of her hazel towards her mare. "She rode well today, so I can't be too mad. Poor girl is just tired, I'm sure."

The elf nodded and the girl gathered up Tabris' reins. No doubt the same was true for the rider as it was the mount. "Rightfully so," he said, taking a step backward, "I hope you don't mind if we put off our lesson until tomorrow."

"Oh! Of course not, Constable," she said, her grin outshining the dark circles beneath her eyes. "It's an honor to spar with you, always, Ser. Thank you."

She saluted once more and led Tabris and another mare towards the coach driver resting on the folding step. The elf's dark brows narrowed. Why the sudden interest from Sina in our recruiting efforts, he wondered, making his way towards the keep's interior. He glared upat the upper spire. More importantly, why was he so insistent on it?

The stationed Wardens had adorned the inside of the Grand Foyer in dark satin banners for their homecoming. Statues of roaring grey gryphons held pots of freshly cut roses from the surrounding gardens; Columns of sunlight had erected themselves from the domed glass ceiling to the marbled floor, and Levi's fingers twisted around the envelope, desperate not to count the dust motes swimming about them. Petra and the others really did have her work cut out for them.

Behind him, the door latch snapped open, "Constable, a word?"

Eld Jinn's young blonde face peeked around the half-open door. A crate of supplies was nestled in his arms.

"I'll allow you several if you walk with me," the elf called over his shoulder, pressing on through the hall.

Quick footsteps and the jingle of chainmail ricocheted over the hall as the tall youth bounded over to join his superior's side. "Appreciate it, Constable. I was wondering what you wanted to do about Ser Bozado."

Levi squinted. He couldn't remember seeing the rogue's sharp features among the others in the lineup. "What about Auruo?"

Jinn bit the corner of his lip. "He…well, while we were on the road, he got in his head that your ornery horse just needed a proper rider to calm down."

"Mm."

"It…went about as you would expect, Constable."

Levi was the one biting his lip now. "She tossed him?"

"Like a newborn-nug, Constable," Jinn coughed, brown eyes distant in the memory. "So hard, he actually skidded into the bushes along the roadside. Maker, I swear, Ral just about pissed herself laughing."

"I can imagine," the elf said, recalling the sudden uproar that had exploded the carriage. "Has he had a healer look at him yet?"

Eld thumbed the small patch of hair at the dip of his chin. "We got him into the infirmary wagon, and all the way back, he moaned, insisting that something was broken. Zoe eventually hopped up there to take a look at him, and said that, while he had a good number of bruises, the only thing broken was his pride."

The pair reached the foot of the first grand staircase and Levi paused. "And what does he want me to do about that?"

Eld sat the crate down and stretched his arms. His loose ponytail bobbled when he smiled and shook his head. "I'm not exactly sure myself, Constable. But he was adamant in wanting to make sure I made you aware of his 'condition' personally…in the dreadful case he would be unable to make it tonight."

"Oh, I see," Levi said, ascending the first step. "In that case, please relay that the Warden-Constable would be dreadfully disappointed should Ser Auruo Bozada be unable to attend tonight, as he is such a vital member of our team." A smirk quirked the side of the elf's mouth, "Will that suffice, or will he need the damn thing in writing?"

Eld's laugh echoed in the hall long after he had stopped. "Apologies, Constable. Maker knows the last thing Ser Auruo needs is physical proof that he can whip out to prove how amazing he is. No, no matter how bruised it is, I'm sure that should be enough to get his ass into the hall tonight." He bent down to pick up the supply crate and then saluted with his free hand. "You have my gratitude, Constable. Thank you again."

The elf nodded. "It's no trouble. Oh Jinn," he added before his subordinate could turn to leave, "make sure to remind everyone that it is in extremely poor taste for Wardens to take bets on which recruits make it through tonight."

Red singed the top of Eld's ears. "Oh. Of course, Constable," he replied, mimicking his superior's half smile. "Was—wasn't even aware of such a practice."

"Of course you aren't, Jinn," he said, raising a knowing eyebrow, "because if you were, I'd ask you to take whatever pool you had acquired, and donate it to the cart driver out in the courtyard."

The rest of Eld's face flushed. "Yes, Constable. I will…be sure to remind everyone of that. Right now." He saluted and departed, leaving both Wardens to resume their respective sojourns.

The Joining would not extend beyond the lower foyer, and neither did the decorations. The same long stone corridors he had left two months ago remained untouched by the festivities. Extremely untouched, he noted, looking back at the imprint his palm had made in the dust on the upper bannister. There was no carpet, no fur rugs to lessen the echo the of his boots on the grey stone below him. Warm grey was what Hange's artistic eye had dubbed the shade, and pulling his cloak tighter against himself, Levi thought that there was no crueler name for a color.

The faint scent of smoke filled his nostrils as he turned the next corner. Though identical to the previous hall, he knew that the small pockets in these walls opened up to individual dormitories. His eyes narrowed from dim room to dim room until he saw where the reflection of candlelight played against the wall ahead. He slid his fingers to the top of the silverite dagger at his hip and slowed his steps to a creep. In his youth, he would've seen a chance with the rest of the keep busy as an opportune time to sneak a few coins out of an officer's room unnoticed. Perhaps, a few of the more roguish fledglings had snuck away from the rest of the flock and had gotten same notion.

The smell grew bolder once he was closer. He paused to look for the room's defining number on the door, and his muscles loosened a bit. With an invisible tinge of embarrassment, he saw the Chantry's golden sun blazing on the makeshift chapel door, and his hand slid from the dagger back to his side.

Less alert, but still keeping his steps soft, he passed by the open door where the towering statue of Andraste the prophetess, arms and eyes raised to the Maker, almost caused him to miss the sister that was huddled kneeling at her feet. The girl's peach Chantry robes swallowed her from the back of her pale hair downward. Incensed pooled around her as her tiny figure shook, muttering low words of fevered prayer. Another taller figure sat in the pew behind her. Levi squinted for a better look. She was a novice then, perhaps, and the other her Mother Superior?

It was only when the second figure turned its head that he realized he'd been extremely mistaken: dim as it was, the light from the offertory candles still burned strong enough to accentuate a skin that bore the color and texture of cracked mud and rose to taper off into two fine horns. The pair of lavender eyes sharpened into slits, and he knew then that the figure had seen him; but once her lips curled into a plump smile, he realized that she also didn't care. She looked at him for several more seconds and then turned her attention back to the priestess.

Levi stepped back from the door, the rose-scented smoke still stinging his nose. He undid the latch to the door to the upper tower. Of all the things he had expected to see in a makeshift chantry chapel, female qunari loitering about hadn't even crossed his mind. The door opened and several lyrium infused lanterns crackled to life, bathing the lean staircase in an unsettling, foamy blue light. The sharp hum they emitted made his ears curl. Still, it was better than having to lug up a candle or torch the entire way up, and he had to admit, Hange Zoe's innovation was brilliant, if not a little strange. Very much like Hange, he agreed at the top of the steps, and watched with mixed awe as each blue light simultaneously went out as though a soft breath had caused them to expire.

A sound that reminded him of gravel trying to whisper came from the hallway he entered. "-at –ch- then ra-gaa-er?"

He latched the door behind him without taking his eyes off of the closed room at the end of the hall. There was a pause and then the same mumbling continued, much less distinguishable this time. Levi stepped closer, reluctantly pushing back a bundle of hair behind his sharp ear for a better listen. He heard the wooden groan of a chair, another long pause, and-

"Pleasantries on our part will make little difference, in this case," said a voice that sounded as though fire and frost had refined its tone in equal parts. It sent talons digging into the elf's lungs. He pressed his back against the corridor wall, his fingers pinched the envelope again. Levi shut his eyes, ears no longer taking in each word's meaning, only the way their sound seemed to dive and soar as a hawk in hunt.

The rattle of a knob jerked his eyes open, and he slipped into a crouch behind the door. Mike Zacharias exited, his plain button down a sharp contrast to the formal attire the rest of Rosenwall's garrisoned troops had dawned today. He rubbed the scruff of his upper lip with a sniff, and then disappeared down the tower steps.

Levi caught the door with a curl of the toe of his boot and slid inside just below where he knew the Commander's line of sight to be, and the door shut behind him unceremoniously. He waited, pressing his weight ever so slightly up against the familiar dark wooden desk, and listened until he could hear only the scratching of a quill on rough parchment. Silently, he untied his cloak, carefully placing the large envelope within its folds. Levi felt a familiar jolt from his joints: a reflex signaled from their newfound mobility. It made sidling along the next corner of the Commander's desk even easier. Still only ink scratches came from the room, and the elf had to swallow the scoff building in the back of his throat. Along the wall hung the Commander's personal weaponry collection: bone thin staves, wide silver shields and broad swords. All smiled down at the elf menacingly, and he grinned back knowing that, as he placed his hand on his dagger, they would do their owner little good.

His legs knew what to do next. A quick jump and pivot brought the former assassin behind the desk, as a fluid arc of his arms caught his mark by the scalp, and simultaneously brought the silver dagger to the man's throat. A familiar cold shock registered in the man's blue eyes as the slender fingers that took hold of his hair tugged harder. The elf smirked down at the thin line of the man's lips. "You're getting sloppy, Erwin," he said, twisting the dagger so that it nibbled at the curve of his lower jaw. "Suppose I had decided today that I did fancy the Crows' price on your head after all?"

The cold shock melted from the eyes with a blink, and a small smile rose up from the corner of the Commander's lips.

"Oh. I see we're killing me again today."

The elf's eyes shot up to see that the voice came from a man identical in every way to the one at his mercy. He was standing in the doorway, and carried a small wooden caddy with the same neatly parted blonde locks that were entwined in the elf's hand; the very same that framed the sharp blue eyes and cutting smile gazing up at him. The only physical sign that distinguished the two was the silk green scarf that coiled around the standing man's neck. It made the elf finally look down to notice a strange silver dust glistening where the weight of his dagger had entered his mark's flesh.

Levi looked back up at the broadening grin of the man in the doorway, and his expression curdled. In an abrupt unison, he slammed the illusion into Erwin's desk, and thrust the dagger back to his side. "Sodding Magi," he growled as the trick burst into shimmering dust. "You've always said-!"

The man gave a small wave of his hand and the shimmer faded. "I know, I know: 'No illusions between us,' " he said and nodded to the small box in his hands. "I had only gone to get something out the storeroom downstairs, and forgot about the enchantment."

"Of course," Levi shook his head, hoping his hair shifted enough to hide the burning in his ears. "How convenient that you happened to step out when you did then. Which one of your crystal balls tipped you off that I was on my way?"

Erwin chuckled. "No, nothing like that. Just in the habit of casting it when I go out now, I suppose," he said, rounding to the chair behind his desk. "And I believe it was my Warden-Constable who was particularly stubborn that I take extra precautions during his extended absence."

The elf snorted, mirroring Erwin's movements to the chair on the opposite side. "Figures you would start listening to him while he's away," he mumbled, plopping down into the warmth of the leather seat. "Nice scarf, by the way."

Erwin's eyes flickered to the green silk swirled around his neck. "Thank you," he said, "Hange had given it to me a while ago. Says it's of Dalish make and has spiritual healing properties."

"Pfft," Levi huffed, scattering several black bangs from out of his eyes, "The Dalish believe their piss have healing properties."

The man's chest shook slightly with a low laugh as he settled down into his own chair. "Well, I can at least believe it keeps me warm."

"Well maybe if you didn't leave the window wide open you wouldn't—" the elf cut himself off with a sigh. He raised his eyes up to where the round window sat above a large wooden armoire, and noted the same faint swish of gold curtain he'd seen from below. "Never mind," he said, jerking his head towards the door, "what was Zacharias in here for? Unless he was…"

The mage nodded. "An illusion, as well: a bit of Chronomancy, actually, went into both of them. Looping a repetitive motion such as me writing was fairly simple, and I mainly used that for first couple of weeks. Replaying that conversation out was…a little messier. I'm sure you must've heard the words cut out a couple of times?"

"I did, but I didn't think anything of it. Assumed Shadis' yelling had finally gotten to my hearing."

Amusement curled the man's lips. "Yes, well…It's a work in progress. I digress," he said folding his hands together with a sigh, "I do appreciate you indulging in me in rambling on about magical theory crafting."

"It's my own fault. I was the one who asked, remember?" But Levi's smirk softened as he realized that most of the magi Erwin usually conversed with had been assigned the recruitment mission alongside him. "So, you and Zacharias had that same conversation at some point in the past then?" he asked, indulging the mage a little bit more.

The Commander's eyes widened. "Yes," he said in a low voice, "six days ago, in fact, and that is something we will need to discuss as we take care of the rest of our affairs."

Erwin stood and the elf followed his movements to the towering glass cabinet on the back wall. He eyed where a porcelain kettle and a set of matching cups meant to be held in the hands of Orlesian nobility sat on the third shelf. "Over tea?" Levi asked. He had been so used to seeing the finery set up prior to their chats that the sight of it behind glass doors was peculiar and almost sad.

"Not today, I think," the mage replied. He squatted in front of the cabinet's lower wooden drawers instead, and the elf straightened up in his seat, if just to relish the few moments he appeared to be taller than his human commander. He gained a new appreciation for the way the cloth of the casual blue tunic rippled down the long curve of his back. Levi looked for any sign of the mage's spellblade on his person, but the ripples smoothed and Erwin was standing again before he could see. "Today," he said, raising a small, curved bottle filled with golden liquid, "calls for something a bit stiffer."

Erwin took a step back. "And before you ask: Yes, I did wash these" he said, unscrewing the top of the box on his desk to reveal two small, silver goblets, "so you can stop making that face now."

He glanced up from fiddling with the cups to see that the elf's scrunched up nose still showed he was far from convinced. "A former sparring partner from the Chevaliers sent this up to me when I was named Commander of the Grey," Erwin continued. He rolled his palms over the base of the liquor and a white glow peeked out from behind his fingertips. "Apparently, it was incredibly popular two hundred years ago in Orlais: Empress Celine was believed to have been one of the first to enjoy it, taking it in her morning tea from time to time. Because of that, her court insisted that Soleil du Celina always be served warm."The mage paused to unstop and dispense the drink evenly between the two mugs. Whiffs of fragrant steam lulled out as the warm liquid settled into the silver cups.

"And if I'm not mistaken," he said handing the goblet to Levi, "I believe that this drink goes by another, more colorful, colloquial name."

"Dragon's Piss," Levi answered, accepting the cup. His thumb circled around the warm lip of the goblet with a sniff. "Does he claim it was brewed in the Dragon Age as well?"

The mage took up the remaining cup. "Oh he does, but he also insists to be descended from the Empress herself, so take that as you will. In any case," he cleared his throat. "To you, Constable," Erwin said, raising the goblet to the elf, a rich warmness surrounding the blue in his eyes. "Welcome home."

Levi nodded and brought the drink to his lips. The liquid was sweet, rich with honey and cinnamon when it sat on his tongue. It was only when it slithered to the back of his throat that the honey turned to knives and the cinnamon, fire. A true Orlesian drink without a doubt, he thought, as what felt like freshly melted gold settled into his stomach.

"A bit too strong?" the Commander's voice asked, noticing the elf wince.

"Not at all," Levi rasped in between a cough. He set the drink down in his lap, and bent down to unwrap the neglected envelope from his cloak below the chair. "Besides, it's a hell lot better than what they'll be drinking tonight."

The hand holding Erwin's drink turned the color of chalk midway to his lips. It set aside the liquor immediately to reach over and accept the files from his Constable's hands. Levi drew his legs back up onto his chair as he heard the mage search his desk drawers for a letter opener.

"Sorry about the crease," the elf mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Never mind," Levi answered back. He took another small sip once he saw the small blade in Erwin's hand slice through the wax seal. Several thick pages of parchment slid out filled with curves of dark charcoal and lines of fine ink. Levi watched as the Commander separated them out, his fingers touching the unmarked corners with a delicate reverence. He assumed that Erwin had to have known that his fellow mage, Hange Zoe, would throw a protective charm over her sketches before she would her own self, yet he handled them gingerly all the same. The Commander of the Grey leaned forward into his hands, and seventeen fresh recruits met him for the first time.

Levi tapped his finger against his goblet, but found the motion lacking the thrill he felt tracing over the golden fauna and feathers on the porcelain teacups. Erwin looked as though he was one of the stone gryphons in the lower foyer, his eyes and head tilting to take in each and every profile as his lips silently read their names to himself. He stared at each of Levi's neatly inked words as though they were physically part of the sketch, and followed every curved chin and thick line beneath an eye to see the words Hange worked in every stroke. Finally, the mage lifted his head and sank back into his chair. "Maker's breath," he swallowed, running his hand through the grain of his hair. "They look so damn young, Levi."

He had been trying not to notice these past two months, especially when those little fledglings looked up at him with their gaped mouths and wind ruffled heads outside. "They're still of age," he said, echoing the same hollow voice he had used on himself throughout the journey. "No conscripts either, Erwin. They're all here because they want to be here. Besides, it was you who told me not to turn anyone away."

The Commander rubbed the bottom of his face. "I did," Erwin said, his head lowered as though the words were a confession. He took a hard swallow of liquor and then took another look at the recruits. "Any in particular impress you?" he asked without looking up.

The elf rose to the tips of his toes as he braced his fingers along the edge of the desk. He looked down at the sea of parchment, scanning the upside down profiles until his eyes found her. "Ackerman," he said, tapping the corner of a soft-faced girl outlined by bold streaks of dark hair. "Unparalleled skill with a pair of short-swords in her hands; I'd say equal if not better to some of our own."

Erwin's brows rose. "Really?" he said, studying the girl's portrait more. "I'm inclined to ask what could've caused her to earn such high praise from my Warden-Constable."

Levi's hands balled against the wood of the desk into fists. His palms felt slick. "She provided a demonstration for us," he replied, keeping his voice steady.

"A demonstration?"

"Yes," Levi answered, neglecting to mention that the demonstration had actually been provided by the Darkspawn that had attacked their caravan; a demonstration in which Ackerman had leapt from the cart to the back of an attacking Ogre, and then proceeded to sever its grotesque head from its body in a single clean dual sweep. He remembered the firelight of their torches, how it lit the same calm profile on the table before him when it was caked in black ichor, and how she had silently wiped the bloodied blades along the side of her pant leg as though ringing a dishrag.

He pulled himself back from the bloody memory to see Erwin's blue eyes fixed on his own. "I see," Commander said, skin crinkling in the corner of his eye, but he said nothing further on the matter.

Levi bit the bottom of his lip and quickly pointed to another round face, where thin flecks of charcoal dotted cheeks to annotate where freckles were. "The First Enchantress at Kinloch Hold personally recommended her apprentice, Marco Bott, for recruitment. Said he passed his Harrowing only a few months prior, but was quickly advancing in his studies about entropic displacement…or something."

"A fine choice of study," the Commander agreed over the elf's agitated groan, "and he was fine with the First Enchantress' decision?"

"He was practically bouncing at the proposition," Levi said with a shake of his head. "Gave a really pretty speech about wanting to wholly serve the realm however he could, too. And I guess it must've been pretty damn inspiring," he moved his finger over to sketched pair of lightly shaded eyes above a handsome cut grin. "Jean Kirstein volunteered immediately after him."

"A Templar," the amused mage said, noticing where Levi had inked a black sword wreathed in flames over the frowning face Hange had penciled in beneath his name. "Interesting…"

Levi nodded. "The Knight-Commander said he was to take his final vows in a few weeks. Was really reluctant to let him go too, what with his full acceptance into the order being so soon, but he later admitted that he honestly never thought of the fidgety youth as Templar material. I believe his exact words were that he was getting a little too 'chummy' with his 'charges.' "

The grimace that crossed Erwin's features hinted of his own experiences in dealing with the magi guardians from his youth. "Yes, well, it's good to know things are still the same at Kinloch. But he fights decently?"

"He demonstrated good control and fighting form, I suppose."

"Ah," the Commander beamed, leaning back up at his Constable, "another impromptu demonstration, I see!"

The elf scowled at him. "His control over social situations," he continued, "has been reportedly somewhat lackluster. From what I've been told, he's already been punched. Twice. So, if you want to maintain accuracy, have Hange go back in and smudge a little more charcoal around his eye."

Erwin obliged him with a curt laugh, and looked back down at his bruised recruit. "Quite the menagerie you've managed to round up, Constable."

Levi brushed a stray hair from his eyes. "There's…one other thing I thought worth mentioning," he said.

The desk felt cool against his palms as he pushed his full weight up, and stared back down at the remaining faces. Immediately, he picked out the boy he had seen in the cart, and the actual subject might as well have been snipped straight out of Hange's sketch. His flesh bore the same hard lines above his brows, and had cradling hair made from short, strong strokes of deep charcoal. The elf squinted down at him with a significant pause, and then at last put his finger down.

"This one," he said, touching the corner of a slender graphite portrait directly adjacent to the bold-faced boy. "Armin Arlert."

Erwin's eyebrows knitted with a frown. "Another mage," he said skimming Levi's notes. "Circles rarely release more than one apprentice. Unless…" he looked up in time to see the elf affirm with a nod.

"He's an apostate, alright." Levi's voice dipped practiced and low, "and what I'm telling you now is that I forgot to mention in the report to Sina that he's also an orphaned son of two suspected maleficarum."

"He's a Blood Mage then?"

The title rolled easily off the Commander's tongue, but even the calm of the trusted voice failed to make the words sound any more palpable to Levi's ears. "The son of two Blood Magi. He claims he would never resort to it after seeing how it twisted his parents," he glanced down to the skittish eyes Hange masterfully captured in her sketch, "but it's something to keep in mind."

"Yes, absolutely," Erwin said, and Levi's ears twitched irritably at amusement in his tone.

"What?"

"I'm just surprised," Erwin responded, "Impressed, really. A few years ago, I don't think you would've taken on a recruit associated with Blood Magic in any way, so to see this change in—"

"I haven't changed," the elf interrupted, and the Commander fell silent. He shook his head. "Not on this, Erwin," Levi said, curbing his tone to be more mindful of his superior, "not ever."

The mage's mouth opened, but shut almost immediately with a small churn in his throat. "That's completely understandable. Forgive me for bringing it up," Erwin apologized, and the sincerity in his voice made the elf's gut twist guiltily. "No one else then?"

The rogue looked up at the mage again. "No one else," he echoed.

"Very good."

Levi retrieved his goblet and sank back down into his spot. One by one, faces disappeared into a single neat stack by the Commander's hands: their tips still un-kissed by charcoal thanks to the enchantment. From there, they disappeared back again into the envelope that the damn courier's clumsy fingers had put a crease in. Erwin held it for a long moment, and then let his eyes slide shut. "We'll see them in the flesh tonight, I suppose," he said, releasing the words with a pent up sigh, "…and hopefully most of them again in the morning."

Levi tilted his drink in agreement, gold liquor sloshing from one side to the other. "Seventeen will be drinking Darkspawn blood tonight," he murmured, shifting the cup again. "Awful as it sounds, we should get a decent amount from just sheer numbers alone."

The elf's sharp ear's twitched at the song of a drawer key turning. Erwin set Levi's recruitment files to the side and pulled out a thin string bound packet of paper. "Actually," the mage said, giving the string a tug, "there's nineteen."

He slid a single piece of parchment over to Levi, and the elf sat up to turn the rough page so that it faced him. It was grey in contrast to Hange's preferred beige, and the sketch's short precise lines made the picture seem fainter. He squinted down at the drawing and looked back up at the Commander. "Who-?" and then recognition set in. Though the room had been dim, and he had just barely seen over the back of her head, it was undeniably her. "This…this is that Chantry Sister."

"You met her?

He shook his head, still following along the soft slope of the girl's bangs. "No, just happened to see her as I passed the chapel on the way here."

A joyless smile tugged at Erwin's mouth. "Krista Lenz," he said with a soft clap of his hands, "was sent here a week ago via the very same carriage that escorted you here today—courtesy of The First Warden—with instructions that she is also to be named a Grey Warden alongside the rest of her peers."

The goblet in Levi's hand felt heavier. "You mean to tell me that a sister from the Chantry at Sina's Watch was sent here… to undergo The Joining?"

"Not just sent, either" the Commander said, presenting a letter marked with The First's seal, "Ordered. She was conscripted."

"Conscri—" The rest of the word fell dumb on his lips. "Andraste's sopping clit," Levi breathed, reflexively sipping his drink. "What did she do?"

Erwin's shoulder's sagged. "Maker only knows, and Maker knows it's not my place to ask."

"And I'm guessing that ogress downstairs must be the second one then?" the elf grumbled.

The Commander pushed the second piece of parchment towards his Second-in-Command. "The Qunari," his superior's hard tone corrected, "calls herself Ymir."

"Ymir, huh," the elf repeated. Somehow Moblit's fine drawn arcs had managed to capture the same unsettling smirk he had seen from the low light of the chapel doorway. "You were impressed that I rounded up a Templar and Mage together. Meanwhile, Sina ships us a novice priestess and a sodding qunari female as conscripts."

The elf gave a short, dark laugh, but his smile faded when he heard the sharp hiss that rolled between Erwin's teeth. "Sina…doesn't know about the Qunari, then?"

"I don't believe so," Erwin exhaled. "She arrived on horseback a day after your intended carriage arrived here, and said she would put the entire keep to sword if we refused to make her a Grey Warden. So…"

A muscle in the elf's jaw twitched. "Sounds like a real keeper, Erwin," Levi spat, "I wonder why Sina wouldn't want to hear about such a fine upstanding prospect."

"I don't see why not," the man laughed, leaning forward to look directly into the elf's grey eyes, "I've had pretty good luck with recruits who have tried to off me in the past."

Levi's lips curled inward. "This isn't the same thing, Erwin! A Qunari- "

"It's the horns isn't it?" Erwin interrupted, and the tense scowl he got in response signaled he was on the right track. "Most demons don't have horns, Levi. The Chantry enjoys playing up that aspect to the further degrade the Par Vollen 'heathens.' "

"Maybe the Chantry says that demons like to part their blonde hair off to the side," Levi sniped back, and the mage chuckled in oddly good humor. "All I cared about was how Sister Regna used to give warm loaves of bread to the good little elves that sat through her entire sermon—but I digress," he said, jaw tightening, "is it really worth our necks to not inform Sina about this?"

Erwin nodded. "Mike and I discussed this earlier. You heard some of it, actually. In any case, there's no reason for us to complicate the matter more than it already is, especially when she may not even make it past tonight. If she does, she'll be as much as a Warden as any of them. But I'm not so naïve to think there won't be any consequences." The mage gave a small bow at the elf, "Hence why I was looking to soften the blow by graciously receiving The First's offer to send you home by traditional carriage, and hence why I sent Mike riding off to deliver the message for that dwarf to give to you."

Erwin shook his head, his eyes and tone softening. "Thank you for trusting me on that, by the way."

Levi's shoulders pointed and heaved. "Fine. She has your trust, she has mine. I guess. What else do you know about her?"

"That she can hurl an ax 100 yards," the Commander said, and with a slight narrow of his eyes added, "and that she's been stuck to that priestess' side ever since she got here."

"So, the Qunari might have had something to do with Lenz' conscription?"

"It's very possible," Erwin nodded, "but what she did for them to force her to take The Joining isn't what truly intrigues me: It's why would Sina send her here for it."

Erwin's inquiry struck the elf. The thought of what absurd crime the young girl must've committed had blinded him to the bizarreness of the whole situation: She was studying at a Chantry within a Grey Warden keep, and while Levi and the rest of the Rosenwalls all had their own doubts about the competency of Sina's Wardens on the field, surely even they could manage to squirt some blood in a cup. "Did they mention their reasoning behind this decision?"

Erwin lifted the First's letter by its corner. "Apparently, they thought Lenz would 'find the ceremony more meaningful alongside her peers,' " the Commander quoted, tone sounding far from convinced.

Levi scuffed the heel of his boot against the carpet. "Well, that's a shit answer."

Erwin rubbed his temples. "Nevertheless, it is their answer, and it's not like we have a better explanation."

The Chantry claimed that no other city held the Maker's favor as much as fair Sina did. Swaddled by mountains on either side, its citizens enjoyed a natural protection from invaders, and enjoyed reaping the shipping benefits that came from the rivers that split through the valley's gated passes. Overlooking the prosperous town, Sina's Watch had been hewn out from the mountains itself to be the residence of The First Warden after the Order had restructured itself. Fed on the prestige of their heroic past, Sina was quick to raise the stationed Wardens to a stone's skip away from nobility. Without a doubt, Sina's influence had assisted in making the Grey Wardens a desirable presence among Ferelden's people again, though Levi feared it was for all the wrong reasons.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they ran out of Darkspawn blood, to be honest," Levi prompted. "I don't think anyone behind those walls has even seen a Darkspawn in over three hundred years."

The Commander returned the comment with a sad smile. "No," he said, lifting up his drink. "We are not so fortunate with such a problem though, are we?"

Warmth fled from every part of the elf's body. His hands folded and dropped to his lap, silently hoping they anchored each other enough so that Erwin wouldn't notice the tremor running through them. The Commander of the Grey's goblet froze halfway to his lips.

"Levi," Erwin said with a slight turn of his head, "'No illusions between us' remember?"

His Constable swallowed and cleared the catch in his throat. "We ran across some during our scouting."

Erwin set his drink down and rested his chin on his hands. "How many?"

"Erwin—"

"How many were there, Levi?"

Both tone and blue eyes cracked with an icy resemblance. Rosenwall's Warden-Constable recalled ordering their party to take a day of respite by the riverside for the sole purpose of scrubbing out every trace of Darkspawn blood from their clothes and weapons. Levi was fairly certain his silver short sword would forever bear a much darker tint from the stains of black blood that had swallowed it during their encounter.

"About twenty," he said. The elf grit his teeth together, careful not to accidentally add "at least" on the end. "Stragglers from the Deep Roads."

Heavy lids fell over Erwin's eyes as his gaze moved from the elf to the window above his office. "You and I both know-"

"No," the elf interrupted, but Erwin only spoke over him.

"That camps of twenty or so Darkspawn—"

"No," he repeated.

"—several hundred miles from the nearest Thaig —

"No. No, no."

"— don't count as 'stragglers' anymore."

"It's NOT a BLIGHT, damn you!"

Levi was standing, the dark wood burning beneath the flats of his palms from the impact of being slammed onto Erwin desk. He dipped his head, almost apologetically, and exhaled a shaky breath.

Erwin sat, hands folded neatly against his beige slacks. "You and I have been dancing around this discussion for far too long, Levi," the Commander said quietly. "We ignored it four years ago, and we ignored it two months ago: We cannot afford to sidestep it any longer."

The elf pushed back a fistful of black bangs from his face. "There's nothing to discuss," he said calmly. "There's no evidence that indicates these Darkspawn attacks are anything other than random raids. The First hasn't officially-"

"The First doesn't need to say it's a Blight for us to know it is one," Erwin cut in, "and I've never known you to trust in his judgment before."

"Then I do on this matter," Levi said straightening up to look directly at his superior. "If he didn't think the raid on Maria's Vigil four years ago was proof, then there's no way he'll change his mind over a random encounter on the road."

"Perhaps if it was just the raid and just the Darkspawn on the surface then, yes you're correct," Erwin admitted, "but that doesn't excuse the dreams about the Archdemon."

Levi's stomach twisted. "You've…been having them?"

Taking on Darkspawn blood was hardly free of any consequence. Those who survived The Joining were forever linked to those they had been sworn to fight against, and such a connection provided the Wardens with unique insights into the minds of their foes. They heard their "song," the call of a corrupted Old God: an Archdemon. Taking on the form of a great dragon, an awakened Archdemon would lead massive hordes of Darkspawn from the underground for the sole purpose of the complete annihilation of every living thing. Thedas had enjoyed an uncomfortable two hundred years of "peace" since the last Blight in 9:31 Dragon, but now…

Levi shook his head. "Mages are naturally more attuned to the realm of dreams than most," the elf countered, "for all you know, it could be just be some spirit messing with your mind."

To his surprise, the Commander nodded, and the knot in Levi's insides began to unravel. "That is a theory that I have also considered."

"Good."

"In fact," Erwin said, leaning back with his eyes still trained on the elf, "that was what I believed to be true—what I wanted to be true—for the longest time. Which is why I want to ask you, Levi: When did you start having those dreams?"

A snarl tore through the elf as he leapt at the mage, masking any sound the silver goblets and loose inkpot made upon hitting the carpet. The Commander's chair reared up on its hind legs, its back slanting against the armoirefrom the precarious addition of the weight of the rogue's body. A pair of uneven blades glinted on either side of Erwin's head, splintered wood fountaining where the tips had sunk in. Levi's knuckles burned white around their grips, his body curved like a gargoyle's over his superior.

"How dare you," the elf spat, digging his right knee into Erwin's hip. "How dare you sit up here and act like you know every sodding thought that goes through my head because of your damn…magic."

He squeezed one of the half submerged blades causing flecks of sawdust to land on the Commander's shoulder. Erwin's eyes never wandered from the elf's face, and moved his hands only to adjust the silk scarf that had gone askew over his shoulder. Levi ground his knee in deeper.

"You sit up here and talk shit about Sina not doing a damn thing, while you send me out spinning around Thedas to deliver this flock of fledglings to you who, after tonight, will never see beyond their forty-fifth name day—if—IF they're lucky. And now you expect—"

He slid the dagger in his right hand down until it was at eye level with Erwin, a pale scar following its trail down the armoire. "DON'T," he snapped at the hand just shy of touching his cheek, and the Commander pulled away.

"What I expect," Erwin said softly, returning his hand to his lap, "is your support, Levi. On this, as you have done on everything else I have asked of you in the past."

The elf's nostrils flared. "You're a sodding idiot, Erwin Smith if you think for one second I'll play along with this to convince Sina's First there's a damned Blight running around."

"I'm not worried about convincing The First," the mage said, tugging at the bottom of his loosened scarf. "Right now, I just want you to look me in the eye and tell me you've never dreamt of the Archdemon." He jerked his head. "Convince me. Look at me and tell me there's no Blight."

The Warden-Constable gave a frustrated growl as he shifted himself to match the angle Erwin had twisted to. His grey pupils narrowed and he replied in a hard whisper. "There. Is. No. Bli—"

The elf's bottom lip hung open. Look at me his Commander had ordered, and he did. Down the taut line of light skin to the thin green border where the scarf began: to where a portion of Erwin's skin had mottled to a scaly grey.

Levi's hands slipped like stones from the handles of his blades. He shoved the rest of the scarf off the side of the Commander's shoulder. It was as wide as the elf's thumb, but thinned to a pointed tip. He tried to think of the times he had seen Hange's face smeared with charcoal, thought of every bruise and broken bone he had witnessed on the battlefield, but the only image that repeated in his mind when he stared at it was the black ichor that he wiped off his swords and clothes so many times before.

The elf's mouth closed to swallow. "How long?" he rasped.

"A couple of days ago," Erwin replied, the edge of his mouth lifting. "This Grey Warden business has a habit of catching up with all of us-"

Levi struck the side of the mage's face so fast that it wasn't until he felt the sting of the punch bite at his knuckles that he realized he had done it.

"You bastard," Levi's chest rattled, flexing his fingers, "you promised…you sodding promised."

"It's still just the beginning stages," he said, wiping a sliver of blood from the swollen corner of his mouth. "It could be years before my Calling."

"You promised," the elf repeated, "you bastard, you promised me that we would go together."

The Commander shifted around the pressure of the elf's knee. He reached to turn the rogue's chin to face him, but stopped before he could touch him. "Levi," he said, hoping to pull his Constable's gaze from the patch of discolored flesh. "Levi," he said again. "If you think Blood Magic played a part in how I knew about your dreams, you're mistaken, Levi," the mage assured him. "No, I knew you had to be having them from the way I felt you shake next to me in your sleep."

"And," Erwin continued, "I looked at this magnificent creature that I've had the privilege to shed blood with—to share my bed with—and I asked myself: what in seven hells could possibly reduce Levi Rivalle to a shivering heap?" He shook his head. "To think I asked, even when the answer came to me every night."

The mage's swollen lip curled inward. "I owe you an apology, Levi: For all the nights I felt you stir awake and watched as you sat there, hunched over, shivering at the edge of the bed. It was…comforting," he admitted, a twinge of disgust entering his voice, "to know that I wasn't struggling with this by myself; but I realize now, in my silence, I denied you even that small solace."

Levi lifted his chin, his eyes still not meeting Erwin's and the Commander held out his hand again. "No illusions between us," he whispered.

Grey irises slid up to match the mage's own, and with them, the rest of the elf's wilted posture pulled itself upright. Then, with a small bow of his head, he pressed his cheek into Erwin's open palm. "I know it's a Blight, damn you," he croaked.

The mage's other hand fell to the other side of his face. "You do not fight this alone," Erwin said, running his thumbs over the curve of Levi's cheekbone, "It was cruel not to tell you sooner-"

"No, I knew. No one wants to say it, because no one wants to hear it." He closed his eyes, "Maker's throbbing cock, though, Erwin. A sodding Blight…"

"I know."

"I mean," Levi sighed, "Our Wardens can't even properly dust the upper foyer. How are they supposed to take down an Archdemon?"

A half-smile rounded Erwin's cheek as he waited for his Constable's serious countenance to break. When the elf only stared back, the man began to laugh.

"It's not funny, Erwin," the elf growled into the bottom of the mage's wrist, but Erwin continued, the sound not so much joyful, as it was relieved. "No one's probably touched it since two months ago, I'm willing to bet. The lack of dedication to a simple task doesn't exactly bode well for world saving soldier material and—damn you, stop it."

He lifted his knee to nudge Erwin in the stomach, but his balance slipped so that the chair fell rightfully back on all four legs. His own fell right alongside the Commander's thighs. Levi bristled, but when he moved to correct his positioning, the hands holding his face instead pulled him forward.

"You'll find a way to rally them," Erwin said, the echoes of his laughter still wrinkling across his stern features. He pressed a quick kiss to the pinched skin between the elf's narrowed eyebrows and added, "From what I understand, you'll be leading a raid on The Seat of the Maker soon."

The rogue groaned, "You heard all that shit Shadis was saying before?"

"It would be more of a feat to not hear the shit Shadis says," Erwin replied, and Levi acknowledged the quip with a quiet, appreciative snort, "and I actually heard him practice that speech several times in the courtyard earlier this week. Anyway, regardless of how it was said, what he said was true."

"Tch," Levi scoffed as he tried to ignore the warm mark left from where the mage's lips had touched him, "somehow I doubt that."

He bent his head forward, allowing Erwin to rest his chin on top. "Mmhmm," the mage hummed thoughtfully, and the words in his throat vibrated pleasingly against the elf's forehead. "When my father thought me to follow in his footsteps as a Chevalier, he once told me: 'Rare is the sword that can stir the hearts of men into battle without threatening to drive it through them first.' Looking back, I think he meant it teach me that men will rarely fight without the threat of serious consequences." He kissed the top of Levi's head. "But you," he said, nuzzling the words into a mess of black hair, "you have that rare gift."

"Gift," the elf huffed, pulling back from Erwin's neck with a squint. "It's not inspiration that drives them. It's pride." He glanced down. "I suppose as long as it motivates them it shouldn't matter, but be realistic Erwin: No soldier, no matter what their background is, wants to get shown up by some knife-ear from the trash heap."

"I don't believe that," the mage said. He cupped Levi's chin with his thumb to lift his face back up to his. "And you don't either. Things were different these past two months. There was a certain…unease in the keep without you here. Maker, I can't remember a meal where I didn't have at least someone approach me to inquire about the latest word concerning the Warden-Constable's return."

Levi had been sure of one thing Erwin said: the last two months were different. Not necessarily difficult, but definitely different. The thick of a fight was where Levi felt most comfortable. There, orders pumped through him as natural as the blood in his veins. Battlegrounds weren't the problem—campgrounds were what intimidated him.

He had spent the night before he would be in sole command going over the itinerary Erwin had mapped out for him. Waiting, dreading how he would handle the flux of people he had seen march into Erwin's tent on so many prior campaigns before; and would watch, bewildered, as the Commander handled every insignificant problem the camp trudged up in an efficient, polite stroke that would've rivaled a Chevalier's killing blow.

But he had only one visitor drop by his tent after their first camp: Petra Ral had shown up after the long day's ride, face almost as bright as her hair, but highly spirited when she humbly asked if they could continue their sparring lessons as they had back at the keep. For the first time since the Commander had informed him that he would be on this expedition without him, Levi had relaxed a little. Petra's determination to better herself in close combat had inspired the other riders to take up arms and practice. Scrimmages managed to open the ground up to amicable conversations that lasted until well after sundown, and some that even bled into the next day's ride. It was different from discussing tactics and strategies, and while the elf was starting to see the merits of this type of lesson, he still preferred a good brawl to be his teacher any day.

And yet… Yet it never had taught him that Auruo woke up an hour before sunrise to fletch his own arrow heads; that Petra wrote to her father in Redcliffe at the end of each week and before every battle; that Eld had a girl he was sweet on in Denerim…and in Lothering…and in at least one of the Free Marches. By the end of the trip, somehow knowing that Gunther's Great-Grandfather had been a Grey Warden too, and that Hange Zoe knew over twelve different ways to season roast nug—and insisted that he try every combination at least twice before they were back to Rosenwall— felt oddly just as important as knowing how to disarm a foe, or strike a fatal blow.

Levi's spine tensed as Erwin twisted several strands of his hair behind the sharp rise of his ear. "You're quite the leader, you know?" the Commander said genuinely. "Whether you choose to acknowledge it or not, I know that seeing you makes them feel safe. Strong."

"Is that what that look is?" the elf grunted, desperate to distract himself from the way his cock had jerked once the mage moved to stroke just behind his earlobe.

They had been the first ones he had seen outside the carriage. Their salutes may have been as perfect as carved statues, but their faces lacked the same plaster he had seen mask over that one dark haired recruit. Perhaps it had just been the angle of the afternoon sun, but there was indeed something that looked back up at him when he passed from face to face. Confidence. Trust. Devotion: things he had always known to be between them, but had just never shined quite like they had during this homecoming.

Levi tilted his head. "And what of Rosenwall's Commander of the Grey?" he inquired. "Is that what he feels when he looks at me?"

The hand stroking his ear stopped, and the mage matched the slant of the rogue's head. "I feel…a confidence that goes beyond confidence," Erwin answered, his voice crackling fire through the elf's chest. "A trust that goes beyond trust, and…"

Erwin's lips parted slightly, his loss of words more charming than any verse Levi could've heard him say. The mage rolled his knuckles down the side of the elf's cheek, his eyes wide and seizing him as though he was the first real thing he'd seen after wakening from a dream.

"…and when I look at you, I feel as though I have the strength to slay an Archdemon," he said wondrously, and pulled the elf's lips to his.

Levi met the Commander's advance with a growl born partially out of irritation, but mostly from raw frustration. From two sodding months, he reminded himself, pulling back just enough to bite down on the bruise emerging in the corner of the man's lip. Erwin's fingers flew to his hair, the mage's short fingernails digging into his scalp until he at last pried the elf off of him with a satisfying grunt. For a breath, Levi's head was angled up, his pale neck curving back like one of Rosenwall's high arches, and then, Erwin was on him again, dotting the taut skin over Levi's jaw with quick, hard kisses.

The back of his head burned as Erwin's hand tangled itself deeper into the dark locks, tightening whenever the elf squirmed in resistance. Eyes still forced on the office ceiling, Levi struggled in an agitated grace to reach for Erwin's arm. His fingers curled around the mage's larger wrist, and slid down the length of the mage's forearm and its fair, short hairs in several slow strokes.

"Shit," the elf hissed, as his balanced waned beneath the unexpected roll of Erwin's hips. For a moment, he had felt the firm warmth of Erwin's cock press against him as his weight slanted far too much over one side of the mage's thighs. His feet twisted into the black leather of his boots, kicking furiously to try and right himself before he felt Erwin release his hair to catch him from behind his shoulders.

The motion flung Levi forward, his head bowing against the human's with an innate reverence. He felt the broad chest before him rise with long, poised strides; a stark contrast to the feverish puffs of the elf's own. Color burned from the elf's nose through the tips of his ears, and he set to work undoing the confines of the mage's beige trousers, pulling and unlacing, until the fabric gave way to warm skin and fine coarse hair and—

The hands on his back seized the elf's shoulders and pulled him upright. Levi stumbled, the heels of his boots grinding frantically into the mage's thighs for balance as his body struggled to figure out how to stand. Hands traveled down from his back and grasped him by the hips, steadying him with a little squeeze at his thigh.

"Erwin—"

"Shh," Erwin reassured, unbuckling one of the snug belts at the rogue's waist. "I've got you, you're fine."

The elf's snort sounded more akin to a sob as the second belt fell neatly to the floor. Erwin's thumbs hooked over the hem of the dark grey leggings and drew Levi close so that his nose dug into the elf's navel with every kiss and nip he thrust in around his abdomen. Warm breath fanned out over wherever his voice buried Levi's name into every inch of skin he unveiled beneath the leather he rolled down. The rogue concentrated on wandering his hands through the finer, darker hairs that were pricked with perspiration from the mage's nape, and arcing himself just enough to assist the mage's efforts to free him, and—

He swore in one of the few true elven words he knew into the top of Erwin's hair as his cock curled free against the sweat stiffened cotton of the mage's tunic, and felt the Chevalier forged muscles stir beneath it. They were far less practiced in their strides then they had been before, the elf had noticed; at least, until Erwin withdrew to focus his attention instead on gently scraping his teeth over the skin just above his left hip bone. Levi groaned, not realizing he had been whimpering the mage's name softly until Erwin whistled another shush again, this time his lips cinching the sound by grazing the tip of his cock's swollen head.

A tug at the base of his shaft pushed Levi's body over the mage's completely. The hands that had had been so nonchalant at his neck now clawed furiously at his back, turning the small ripples he had admired previously on the fabric into strong, bold waves. Balance came oddly easier with each firm stroke, allowing the rogue to rock the brunt of his weight from the tips of his toes to balls of his feet as Erwin guided him through a steady, even rhythm. There was a confidence in his ministrations, and one that the rogue could never quite seem to mimic during his own evening attentions. Though, these weren't hands that just held swords: they knew fire, summoned ice, and weaved surges of lightning with a simple twist. No, he panted into the rolls of the tunic, a mage's hands were no stranger to handling primal forces.

The small breeze kneading into his nape reminded him of the Commander's open window above them. Levi's eyes drifted up, a lazy smile half-parting his lips as he saw the pastel evening light blanketing over them. The gold curtain still flitted in and out, and Levi recalled how small the thing had seemed from the courtyard. Yet, here… up here it was close enough to touch; almost close enough to reach, close enough to—

Grey eyes slipped shut just as the curtain slid out of his line of sight again, and he released a breath that he hadn't realized he had been holding along with everything else. With a low cry, Erwin's arms tightened around the elf's back, pulling him close so that there was nothing to separate them as the rogue's hips bucked and spilled between them. Evening dissolved around Levi into a warm, dizzying sheet, and the blue cotton shirt was still balled beneath the curl of his fingertips. He hung against Erwin in an awkward, off centered embrace, relaxing on top of the mage's paced breathing so much so that his knees began to buckle and slip. Instinctively, he clawed weakly into the mage's back.

"I've got you," he heard Erwin reassure again, squeezing the elf slightly with a choked chord in his throat. "You're fine, I've got you."

Levi nodded into the crook of the mage's neck, and slid back down into his lap, a limp arm draping over the mage's shoulder for support. Erwin's skin smelled like home: lightly salted by costal breezes and tepid as an overslept morning. In his absence, he had almost forgotten this comforting scent that he had grown so accustomed to being around the keep, on their bed sheets; on himself. This magnificent creature I share my bed with, Levi snorted thinking of the mage's own words and eyeing the twitch in man's strong jaw and mussed hair. Not so bad yourself at times either, he thought, burying his flushed cheeks deeper into him.

Thighs and legs twisted underneath him, and the elf looked up to see a hint of a quiver touching the Commander's bottom lip. Levi guided his free hand down the line of Erwin's torso, and watched the man's mouth part when the tips made contact with the slick exposed head of the erection the mage was attempting to soothe.

"Do you want me to…?" Levi said, taken aback at how distant his voice sounded.

Erwin shook his head. "No," he said, turning to kiss the elf's cheek, "Don't worry about it. Rest now."

Levi scoffed into the sweat of Erwin's neck. "Idiot," he whispered, skimming a finger along the edge of his slit, and coaxing a throaty moan from deep within the mage's gut. He twisted his wrist so that his hand fanned out over as much as he could cover of Erwin's own, fingers tracing along large worn knuckles while the mage attended to himself. Hardened scabs he hadn't recognized had settled between the valleys of his knuckles, and Levi frowned wherever he felt where pale flesh had begun to stitch over the wound. No wince from Erwin as he prodded the wound, though the man was somewhat distracted at the moment. The elf pushed the discovery from his thoughts, and clamped his palm over where his lover's cock still peeked out.

Erwin lurched into him, and Levi lifted his head just enough to see the man's face contort, lips purse, and eyes flutter. Through half lidded eyes, Levi watched the blonde head tip back in a relieved gasp, and felt him come gently between his fingers.

The mage swore in a dark apology, barely a second passing before Levi felt cool green silk thoroughly wind its way through the grooves of his own hand. He was dry in moments, save for the kiss Erwin promptly burned into his lifted palm. "Sorry," he murmured against the skin again. "And thank you," he panted, head slipping limp against the armoire again. "Thank you."

Levi smirked and swiped at the mage's skewed bangs in a feeble attempt to correct them. Erwin's quick breaths were gratitude enough for him, and felt just as pleasant as any sea breeze ever had on his skin. The Commander's eyes had snapped shut to two thick lines of dark lashes beneath a mop of ruffled hair. Levi suspected he probably didn't look much better himself, but his own clothes at least seemed somewhat salvageable. However, the stains of sweat and other emissions that dotted up and down the mage's front were an execution sentence for Erwin's current attire.

After a particularly grueling battle had sunken blood into the rogue's favorite leathers, he had gone to Erwin and asked if magi had any sort of spell to purge such potent stains from clothing. "We do," Erwin had smiled to the eager elf's face, "but we just call it 'Fire'."

Levi had insisted on doing his own laundry after that.

"Ah," he heard Erwin say, and Levi looked up to see that the mage was still smiling upwards at the ceiling. "I suppose we should take those down."

Levi's short sword and dagger still grinned dangerously from their embedded perch in the armoire door. "Ah," the elf mimicked, "yes, that might be a good idea."

"Mmm," the mage agreed, straightening up properly. Several wisps of fair hair fell into his eyes. "It's starting to get late isn't it?"

The elf nodded. "The Joining."

"Right," Erwin exhaled. "We do need to get ready for that." He gave a small squeeze to the rogue's thigh.

Levi swung his legs over and pressed one foot to the carpet to test his stability before moving on to the other. He gripped the back of Erwin's chair and pulled himself up, his limbs feeling as though they hung from his body by slim threads. Behind him, he heard Erwin stand as the elf knelt down to collect his belts. A dark spotted trail revealed where the inkpot had rolled off the desk to the other side of the room. A silver gauntlet had joined several stray papers under the desk, while its twin dripped drops of Dragon Piss onto the carpet floor. Levi frowned and made a mental note to wake up an hour earlier to give the room a much desired scrubbing.

He rose too quickly and the dizzying aftereffects of hard liquor and hasty sex caught up with him. He managed to brace his body up against the armoire before he could truly, fully stumble.

"You alright?" he heard the mage ask, and the elf internally swore at the dull thud his hand had made on the cabinet.

"I'm fine," he answered back, looping the leather strap around his waist. He did the same with the second, and then turned to retrieve his blades.

"Good," Erwin said, pulling the soiled blue tunic over his head. "A bit of warning though: it hits a bit stronger the following morning."

The elf plucked his dagger from the splintered wood with a snort. "Awfully confident," he muttered just loud enough for Erwin to hear, and the mage laughed.

"I meant the liquor. It wasn't called Celina's Sunrise just because she had it in her morning tea. Maker's breath," he said, rolling the green scarf and shirt up in his arms, "the sunlight feels like a charging ogre the following day, and—oh, your sword is on the desk."

Levi's gaze pivoted to where Erwin had gestured, and he was silently thankful he would not have to attempt to collect the blade by climbing the unsteady chair in his current state. He slid it back into the scabbard just above his lower back. "Appreciate it," he replied, and looked down the dark scuffs that the friction of his boots had left on the man's trousers. "It's full formal attire tonight correct?"

"So says tradition," the Commander of the Grey said with no attempt to hide the exasperation that entered his tone as he crossed to the door. "Would you mind locking up for me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem."

Though much of his clothing lay wrapped up at his side, and several light hairs jutted from of their part, Erwin stood as Levi had seen him enter earlier. Over the years, he had come to know the majority of the scars and marks that had branded the Commander's chest: knew the long thin ones on his arm to be from his days in the Chevalier court; that the reddened slab across his hip was from when the inexperienced mage had summoned searing flames for the first time in his youth; and that the several white nicks around the neck and throat were by the elf's own hand. But the unnatural twist of the shadowy slash of taint on his shoulder…Levi knew he'd never grow accustomed to the sight of it, and his stomach jolted to a similar angle whenever he looked at it.

"Erwin," Levi said, and the mage whirled around in the open doorway to face him, "what you were saying to me before we…before, about the Archdemon."

The mage only gave a cordial dip of his head. "You won't fight it alone, Levi," he repeated quietly.

"That's not what I—"he started to say, but the door had already cinched shut.

It is the duty of a Grey Warden to remember that a great evil exists in this world. His words came back to him once he had rounded the desk to collect the navy cloak he had discarded earlier. He drew the spun wool back over his shoulders and loosely knotted it at his chest. A threat that only we can challenge…

An image of the great beast he saw whenever he shut his eyes swirled into his mind. A maw of needle thin teeth that snapped up the faces of children from the alienage he had grown up alongside him; massive wings that clapped and reduced Rosenwall's proud walls to rubble; a song in its bellow that sang to his veins as though he was one of its own, turning his blades dull, and his limbs stone. Impotent, unable to fight, and even if he did…

…And when I look at you, I feel as though I have the strength to slay an Archdemon.

The muscles in Levi's hand tightened as he turned the lock on the office door. He glanced back at the disheveled room: at the dust sleeping on the weapon rack, and the stray papers an invading breeze pushed along; at the long pale scars the armoire bore, and at the chair pulled out halfway behind the Commander's vacant desk-

And as the door shut behind him, Levi realized there was something that terrified him even more than an Archdemon.

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