Still Waters
A Dragon Age Fan Fiction written by Antgirl
Prologue
Becker often sneaked out of the Starkhaven's Circle of Magi to wander the village below. He donned peasant clothing and carried no staff, to avoid being discovered. He fixed his hair like a nest of rats, his black locks sticking out all over and covering his face, to discourage anyone from looking at it for too long. He took coin sent by his mother with him to buy pastries and crafting materials for his jewelry work. It was during one of those escapades as he was returning to the tower in the early evening, when he passed by the Chantry as he regularly did on his trek back. But that time he felt like he had to stop.
He stood in front of the stairs looking up at the double doors of the cathedral. He was startled when they suddenly opened and a wave of people came out. He was petrified for a second, sure that everyone was coming toward him in order to rat him out to the Templars. But they simply passed by him, some scowling because he didn't move out of their way. His tension eased once they started to walk away. They were just people leaving a service, there was nothing to be scared of, he told himself.
The young mage didn't know where the compulsion came from, but before he understood what he was doing, he was inside the cathedral. He came to rest in front of a statue of Andraste and looked up at her. Becker wasn't a religious person. He believed in a higher power, sure, but he didn't plan every aspect of his life around what the Chant of Light said. He supposed that if he did, he would've jumped off the top floor of the tower and done The Maker a favor, one less mage for this world to deal with.
There was movement behind him and he turned swiftly. A middle aged woman was standing behind him. Her blue eyes scrutinized him and he felt uncomfortable under her gaze. She had gray hair wrapped tightly in a bun and robes that seemed strangely familiar even though he was sure he hadn't seen anyone like her before.
"I'm afraid you've arrived late child. The service is over."
Becker relaxed at her warm tone. "I know. I just…I don't know why I came."
She came closer to stand beside him and both looked up at Andraste's face.
"Perhaps Andraste guided your steps. Many followed The Bride of the Maker, inspired by her fortitude.
"Or by fear." He said without thought.
The woman looked at him, mouth agape.
"Of the mages, I meant," he quickly amended.
A nod. "Yes. She was the only light amongst all the darkness in Thedas."
Becker looked her up and down and came to a startling realization. It was the Revered Mother of Starkhaven 's Chantry whom he was speaking with. That's why her robes seemed so distinctive. Not a simple priest or lay sister, this one.
"May I ask you a question, Revered Mother?"
She smiled, pleased that he had finally acknowledged her title.
He hesitated however. It was not an easy thing to ask, lest of all to a Chantry devotee. But it was something he had always wanted an answer for. Hoped to get an answer for, even as a child.
"Will … will the Maker ever forgive the mages for their transgression?"
The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously and Becker inwardly groaned. He had given himself away. Once the Templars heard about it, they will find him and confine him to his chambers for good. How could he be so stupid? Her voice was loud in the empty space around them when she spoke.
"That children are still being born with that curse is answer enough to your question, young man," she answered sharply.
"Curse?" he frowned, confused.
"If the Maker truly forgave the mages, they would be cleansed of their affliction. But they still carry it, so that we all remember how the Taint originated and never attempt another offense of that magnitude upon our creator."
The young man gritted his teeth. "Magic is not a punishment."
"So I suppose you consider it a gift, being locked away and watched over because of the danger you represent." He shouldn't be surprised she figured him out. He wasn't being very inconspicuous, after all.
"But how can people being born now be blamed for what others like them did so long ago? Where's the justice in that?" He all but yelled.
The Revered Mother shook her head sadly.
"Where's the justice in a fire consuming everything it touches? There's none to be had. It's in its nature to be destructive. Magic is just one more force of nature. There's no reasoning involved in it. The only thing to be done is either to brace against it or contain it, in order to reduce the damage."
The cathedral felt even more enormous to the young mage now, dwarfing him not only in size but in spirit. This was the realm of the Chantry and magic had no place in it. It made sense, he supposed, since it was through the opposition of all magic that the religious order was born. Which meant that a mage would never find succor in something that rejected his very existence.
He bobbed his head. "I see." He looked her straight in the eye and bit his way through the words. "Will you call the Templars now?"
She put a hand on his shoulder. "We all have our duties: priest, Templar, or mage. But if you do yours, then I will not be forced to do mine, no?"
She was letting him go? But why? Before he could voice his questions, Becker decided that it was not wise to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead he said,
"I understand."
She nodded.
Becker left at a hurried pace, desperate to reach the tower and forget he had ever entered that place. He would not forget one thing, however. The Revered Mother had provided him with an answer but not the one she had intended, after all.
There was no forgiveness simply because there was nothing to be forgiven. Why should he want something he wasn't entitled to? He and every other mage alive today had no part in what had happened before they were born. And just like that, his self-imposed sentence was lifted and he saw his life with new eyes.