Title: The Tale of Cassiopeia
Fandom: Dragon Age
Characters/Pairings: Calpernia, Samson; Sampernia (kind of? implied?)
Rating: K+
Summary: "The novel is focused on Cassiopeia, a girl who fights for the Imperium's better future," Calpernia said, looking everywhere but at Samson.
"Lady Calpernia, you never told me if perhaps Cassiopeia is based on a real person?", asked Servis in an innocent voice. His eyes, however, glimmered with a hint of mischief, betraying his true intentions (that were very close to something like: I already know the answer but I'm a horrible human being who enjoys embarrassing other people).
Warnings: vague spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition & Paying the Ferryman.
Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine.
A/N: written for the "send me a sentence and I will write a drabble" thing on tumblr; prompt: "On second thought, I don't want to know." + Calpernia/Samson
I write the dumbest things sometimes. And this was supposed to be a drabble. Sigh.
Samson knew he should always knock because Calpernia valued her privacy. Other people always knocked but Samson – never. It was one of the things she supposedly hated about him.
But this once before opening the door Samson hesitated, uncertain if he should walk away or intervene. He could hear Calpernia's voice, she was shouting. There was certainly something happening on the other side of the door, but Samson couldn't quite comprehend what exactly. What he heard didn't make much sense.
"You shall be defeated! Your amoral deeds will not go unpunished!" There was a pause. "I shall punish you and expose your amoral actions?"
Calpernia asked with hesitation, and the voice that answered, to Samson's great surprise, belonged to a man.
"You shall be defeated! Sounds better, I think. But what about that part with the dragon?"
Confused, he opened the door and walked in, slightly worried he might see something he would regret seeing. Thankfully it wasn't so bad.
The first thing he noticed were papers scattered on the floor. There were so many of them that they resembled a carpet. Calpernia stood in the middle, holding even more pages in her hands. She turned around to face him, eyes wide with surprise. Then Samson noticed there was someone sitting on the floor, a young man wearing white Venatori robes.
This didn't look like a secret meeting, so Samson took another step forward, uncertain how he should react.
"Hello," the man greeted him with a smile.
Samson merely nodded but the man got up and hold out his hand. "Crassius Servis."
"He's helping me with my... personal project," Calpernia explained, hastily gathering pages scattered on the floor.
"I see," Samson mercifully ignored her blushing. He moved his eyes back to Servis, and introduced himself, while shaking his hand, squeezing it a bit too hard. "What brings you here?"
"Servis is, uh... He travels a lot," Calpernia replied before the man could open his mouth.
"He's a smuggler," Samson said.
"How do you know that?!"
Samson gave her a look. "Contrary to what you think, I actually listen when you talk to me."
"Pleased to meet you, General," the man beamed. "I've heard quite a lot about the Red Templars, if I might say."
"What are you smuggling this time?"
"Paper and ink, among other things," Servis explained, trying to discreetly massage his right hand. "Lady Calpernia's special order."
Before Samson could ask more questions, Calpernia recovered from her initial embarrassment, and gave him one of her famous irritated glares.
"What are you doing here exactly?"
"I was just passing by, and I heard something about amoral deeds..."
The blush on her face deepened as if he caught her doing something she shouldn't. Servis, on the other hand, seemed amused.
"What did you think about the dialogue, General Samson? Lady Calpernia is writing a no– "
"Nothing," Calpernia shrieked, then she looked at Servis with a death threat in her eyes, angrily mumbling something in Tevene.
"You're writing a novel?" Samson asked, intrigued. "What's it about?"
Calpernia sure liked to write a lot, but he never saw her writing other things than reports or letters. She didn't answer, blushing so hard it seemed she could burst into flames any second. Which was entirely possible considering her powers.
"You know what? On second thought, I don't want to know. As you said, it's personal, so…"
"No, wait!" Calpernia stammered, clearly battling with her thoughts. "Since you're here… You can help me."
"I don't know much about writing novels…" he began, a weak attempt to escape while he still could.
It didn't work since it seemed that Calpernia won a battle with her embarrassment and decided to show him pages of a novel she so wanted to hide just a minute ago.
"Listen," she said, narrowing her eyes. "If Varric Tethras can get his horrible books published, and people actually like what he writes, then let me tell you that I'm going to at least try to write my own novel."
Samson vaguely remembered the dwarf that usually accompanied the Champion of Kirkwall. Based on Calpernia's expression and the tone of her voice, it seemed that Varric was now her mortal enemy.
"He helps the Inquisition. When I publish this," she waved the pages she held in her hands. "And when they see my far superior writing skills, they'll lose all hope, their morale weakened!"
That's…not how it works… , Samson wanted to say. He was smart enough to know he shouldn't, so he kept his mouth shut. He sat down on the floor, ready to accept whatever Calpernia wanted to throw at him.
"Did she force you to help her with this?" he whispered to Servis when the man sat down near him.
Calpernia certainly had her ways of persuading people to do things for her. He didn't want to think about it for too long, but he was perhaps the best example. He was quite sure she could make the Elder One's dragon dance like a trained monkey if she wanted. There was a reason why his templars called her that scary Tevinter lady.
"We have an agreement," Servis said, patting a pouch of coins tied to his belt.
Well, the smuggler certainly seemed like a type who would do a lot if one paid him enough.
Samson let out a sigh. "Alright, then. What's the story about?"
Calpernia cleared her throat. "The novel is focused on Cassiopeia, a girl who fights for the Imperium's better future," she said, looking everywhere but at Samson.
"Lady Calpernia, you never told me if perhaps Cassiopeia is based on a real person?", asked Servis in an innocent voice. His eyes, however, glimmered with a hint of mischief, betraying his true intentions (that were very close to something like: I already know the answer but I'm a horrible human being who enjoys embarrassing other people).
"She's... She's based on every brave woman who fought valiantly for her country," Calpernia blurted out.
"Ah, I see," said Servis glancing at his well– manicured nails. "It just so happens she's a former slave who discovered her gift of magic by pure accident, and fights to end slavery in her homeland."
Samson had to admit, he liked teasing Calpernia, mainly because it was easy. But he knew when he should stop or else she would hit him with a ball of fire. He nervously glanced at Servis. Samson moved a bit, away from the man, just in case Calpernia had enough of the smuggler's jokes.
"What happens next?" he asked in an attempt to distract her.
"She earns her freedom, the magister she works for has a soft heart," she replied, eyes moving back to Samson. "She decides it's time to reform her country. But then she is kidnapped by a group of people that work for the Archon's evil twin brother, Redanis, who– "
"What?"
"How else could I explain the Archon's bad decision to support a system based on injustice?"
Suddenly feeling exhausted, Samson merely nodded. Calpernia didn't seem to notice the complete and utter defeat on his face.
"I'm stuck in the middle. I know what happens but I'm not sure how to get there," she stared at the pages in her hands with a frown. "Obviously in the end she kills the Archon's evil twin brother with the very chains he put on her. Free from his evil brother's influence the Archon realises it's time to end slavery once and for all."
"That wouldn't be possible…" Samson dared to say.
Calpernia gave him a stern glare. "I thought you are more open– minded. Knight– Commander from your city turned into a statue. Wake up, Samson, unexplained things happen every day."
"Well, that part with Meredith can be perfectly explained… "
Calpernia waved her hand. "I don't care. We need to focus on this!"
She handed him a bunch of pages. He glanced at the bottom of one of them. A sliver of dread ran down his spine when he realised it was page 580. Just how long was this thing..?
Then he noticed the text was describing someone Calpernia never mentioned. There was something familiar about this character, so he decided to ask.
"Who's this mysterious warrior?"
Calpernia made a sound, like a squeak. Samson ignored it and glanced at the smuggler who seemed to know absolutely everything about her novel.
"That's Cassiopeia's love interest, though they're not allowed to be together. You see, General, it's a tragic love story," Servis happily explained. "He's introduced in the second chapter. Tall, muscular, excellent warrior. His whole life he trained to earn his position, but he was unrightfully expelled. He's a man with a troubled past, a pariah fighting for his people."
"Oh, really?" Samson raised an eyebrow, feeling a bit proud. "Does this excellent warrior have a name?"
"Markus."
If Samson listened closely, he could hear something inside him shattering into pieces. It was his pride, probably. That damned smuggled grinned with the most innocent smile in the history of Thedas, while Calpernia tried very hard to pretend she's invisible.
Apparently it wasn't enough for Servis, because he continued to talk.
"General, you must know one more thing about Cassiopeia. She's got a dog," he said in a casual voice.
Calpernia hissed at him, something Samson couldn't quite catch but it sounded like a death threat. He let out a sigh. He might as well play along, though he wasn't sure if he wanted to know why Servis mentioned this particular detail.
"A dog?" he asked, resigned.
The smile on the smuggler's face somehow got wider. Calpernia looked like she could strangle him with her bare hands.
"Yes. What was his name again?" he patted his lips with a finger. "Ah, I remember. Raleigh"
He could feel what was left of his pride rapidly dissolving. Then it was replaced by anger.
"You named a dog after me?!"
Calpernia's face turned crimson. She was so red it looked like even the roots of her hair were blushing. "It's just a... a metaphor!"
"A dog!"
Servis gasped, fake surprise perfect in his voice. "What a coincidence! It seems art imitates life."
"The dog that is very important to the plot!"
"If I remember correctly," Servis quipped, not even trying to mask his amusement. "In chapter five he's described as, and I quote, an old shabby hound, loyal yet– "
"That's enough quoting, Servis," Calpernia hissed. One more word and I'm going to kill you, her eyes said.
"Shabby?!"
"Well…" Calpernia made a vague hand gesture.
"I'm done," Samson announced and got up. "Have fun with your masterpiece."
The last thing he heard before he stormed out was Servis' muffled scream.
Sadly, people of Thedas never got a chance to read the Tale of Cassiopeia. Tragically, the pages of Calpernia's one and only novel ended in the fireplace, reduced to ashes.