"There were seven Old Gods, great winged dragons that were said to rule over the ancient world. The Chantry maintains that they are responsible for the original sin, that they turned humanity away from its true creator through deceit. Humanity's faith faltered, and thus the Maker turned away from the world-but not before trapping the Old Gods in eternal prisons beneath the earth as punishment."
Talia scoffed. No. The seven Old Gods were the Maker's children. His own flesh and blood and no; he didn't trap them beneath the earth as punishment. He did that because his children were powerful beings who created all living things; he wanted to be the only God worshipped, so he betrayed his children. He was a greedy sonovabitch but he didn't want any blood on his hands or guilt on his mind.
"Scholars assume that the Old Gods must indeed have been real at one point, but most agree that they were likely actual dragons-ancient high dragons of a magnitude not known today, and impressive enough to frighten ancient peoples into worshipping them. Some even claim that these dragons slumber as a form of hibernation, not as a result of the Maker's wrath."
They weren't dragons. They were beings that could take the form of any being they wish to. She rolled her eyes.
"Regardless of the truth, legend maintains that even from their underground prisons, the Old Gods were able to whisper into the minds of men. The Archon Thalsian, first of the Magisters, who claimed to have contacted the Old God Dumat, used the blood magic Dumat taught to him to attain incredible power in Tevinter and declare himself the ruler of an Empire. In return, he established the first temples worshipping the Old Gods, and the dragons became equated everywhere with imperial power."
Heh. The Archon Thalsian was a dumb man. Blood magic was common to the people back then and he accidentally spoke the wrong words for a spell, making him speak to Dumat and Dumat is, well . . . grumpy, to say the least. Especially when he got woken up by stupid men with only a trickle of magic and think they're powerful.
"To date, four of the Old Gods are said to have risen as corrupted archdemons: Dumat, the first and most powerful, was slain at the Battle of Silent Fields. Zazikel fell at the Battle of Starkhaven, Toth died at the Battle of Hunter Fell, and Andoral was felled by Garahel, the legendary Grey Warden, at the Battle of Ayesleigh. The archdemons have been identified only after years of argument among scholars, and to this day it is unclear whether the archdemons were truly Old Gods and not simply dragons. All that is known is that the darkspawn hunt for them deep underground. If they are truly the Old Gods, as many scholars believe, then we have only three Blights remaining. When all the Old Gods have risen and been slain, however, what will happen? Will the Blights end forever and humanity earn forgiveness from the Maker at last? We shall see."
Talia shut a battered copy of "The Old Gods Rise Again" by Sister Mary, Chantry scholar, 8:50 Blessed. They made such a novel of the whole thing. The Old Gods hate the Maker. They hate him for loving himself more than his own children and for his greed, oh and the darkspawn? They were controlled by the Maker himself. He made a game of the whole thing. He made it out as if he was the hero and his children were the enemy. He created wards underground that were strong. Very strong. Imagine staying underground for more than a few hundred years then suddenly you are free. Let's say you crawl up to finally see the sunlight and what do you find? You're stuck in your dragon form and suddenly monstrosities called darkspawn kill in your name. You try to help the mortals but they want you dead. Who would believe you after all the Maker has done for them. You are the enemy. But still, you try. You find ways. Guess what you found instead; the Maker himself orchestrated the whole thing so you would end up dead without any blood spilled on his hands. He sits back on his golden throne and laughs it off while he plans the demise of your other brothers.
Contrary to popular belief, the Maker can't see everything at the same time and he can't possibly know everything. He bleeds just like everyone. It's just a matter of getting close enough to do that and having the ability to break his blood wards. The Maker using blood magic? Fancy that.
The Maker woke up one day and decided that he wanted the beings that his children made. He planted a seed of doubt in the minds of the mortals and slowly, they began to believe that the real God is the Maker and the evil ones were the seven Old Gods. A grave news to Talia's father and uncles.
At least the Maker can't find me. Yet. But when he does. I'm doomed. Talia stood up from the rock she was sitting on and threw the book to the fire.
"You shouldn't be here, Talia." A silver blond haired man stood from the corner with his arms crossed. His eyes were like blue flames and he had a perfectly chiseled face.
Razikale.
"I'm sorry; I didn't know you were busy brooding underground."
"He might hurt you."
"Oh please, grandfather dear is too busy being good and godly to bother with the likes of us."
"Too busy planning my demise, you mean."
Talia looked up to gaze at Razikale's face. His face was lined with worry.
"I won't let that happen." She stated flatly. Razikale was next in line for the Maker's parade of dead children and he was scared.
Unlike any of them, Talia wasn't bound underneath the earth. After all, the Maker designed the wards for his children. Not his grandchildren and he's too afraid to adjust the blood ward in fear that one of children would escape and put a sword through his eye.
"You steer clear from him, Talia." Razikale walked towards her. He sighed and took a lock of her long, wavy, silver blond hair between his thumb and forefinger.
"I mean it. You have a shot at being happy out there. We don't."
"Let me rephrase that for you, Uncle Raz; I have a shot at being happy out there until he finds me and kills me."
He looked down.
He was always the worry wart. Dumat was the grumpy and responsible one who disciplined and trained Talia with a sword. Zazikel, her father, was the whimsical one who often seduced travelling women underground in search for treasure. Toth was the short-tempered and most violent one who tried to break the wards several times. Andoral was the sweet one along with Urthemiel, who kept his secrets like no one's business. Her father used to joke around saying they were a couple of mother hens and Lusacan was quiet. Talking to him was like pulling a tooth out of a bronto. An exceptionally difficult bronto with a stick shoved up his ass. Andoral once told Talia that the only time he ever saw a smile on Lusacan's face was when she first smiled at him, which didn't happen that often nowadays.
Talia was raised by the seven old Gods. She stopped aging twenty years after she was born, much to the joy of her uncles and the chagrin of her grandfather. He had hoped that she would die like her mother, but she didn't. He had been ignoring her presence ever since but deep down she knows that when all of his children are gone, she would be his next target. Not a comforting thought all around.
"I worry for you. I don't know why you keep going back here when you can stay up there." Razikale pointed a finger upward.
Talia rolled her eyes. Let me think. Why do I keep coming back to this place? Oh yeah, because down here there's an underground waterfall, and a fortress hidden from the mortal's eye and up there? Oh, up there was difficult and when I say difficult, I mean that walking from one place to another without being killed is pretty much impossible.
"Your favorite niece missed you. Is that a bad thing?"
"You're impossible, do you know that?" Razikale chuckled.
Talia gave him a grin.
Razikale gave an exasperating sigh. "Have you heard from Lusacan?"
That made her pause. It's impossible for Lusacan and me to agree on anything. We argue over the simplest things like how many candles to light, where to put his favorite book, what's appropriate to speak of and things like that.
She gave Razikale a raised eyebrow.
"He misses you, Talia." Razikale sat at the edge of the underground lake.
"Can I do anything for you?" Talia tapped her foot impatiently against the floor.
"Visit my difficult brother Talia; he hasn't spoken to me through the Eluvian for a long time now. I'm worried. And with Urthemiel raging a war up there–"
Talia groaned. Heaven help me, I didn't sign up for this but who can say no to Raz when he tried hard enough?
"Fine. Fine. It's not like I can say no to you." The thing Talia was worried about was the fact that all the old Gods had their own chambers underground, each were far away from each other and the easiest way of transportation was through the Eluvian. So if Lusacan was keeping a lid on his, Raz won't be able to get through which means that she has to travel along the blasted Deep Roads just so she can shake some sense to him. This wasn't turning out to be a good visit after all.
Raz gave her a tight hug before he walked her towards the exit of his chambers.
Talia walked quietly. Well at least there won't be many darkspawns. There is a blight after all.
There was a group of stupid mortals going the same way as I am. That was the first thing that went on Talia's mind when she saw the dwarf and humans. She had to admit, they were quite skilled. The dwarf was skilled with that huge axe and the one who kept talking about cheese was funny. There was even a golem traveling with them. That should've been the one to catch her attention but no, it was that golden-haired man that did. He wielded a great sword and killed a couple of darkspawn as if he was born to do it. There was something about him that intrigued her and so she kept following them until they reached the Fortress of Bownammar.
The Fortress of Bownammar was once home to the majority of the Legion of the Dead and abandoned to the darkspawn only with great regret. It is now called the Dead Trenches. Caridin, the dwarven Paragon, created it long ago. Talia couldn't fathom why anyone would want to traipse along the Dead Trenches. Wasn't the darkspawn infested world of theirs enough?
Talia watched from afar while they made easy work of all the darkspawn. It was very rare to see anyone that skilled. Especially that man. Now where did that come from? The stink of the darkspawn must be getting to me.
A loud roar suddenly came from below. Urthemiel. Like all the other Old Gods he lost his sanity when he got corrupted.
Talia clenched her fist. There was a sea of darkspawn under Urthemiel's dragon form. The mortals will be annihilated if no one stops them. The Maker is planning to unleash this devastating horde of monsters into the mortal's lands? When will it ever end? There is twice as much as there was the last blight. I don't think the mortals would be able to handle it this time.
There were a couple of darkspawns ahead. One of them raised its head and looked where Talia was hiding. She quickly hid and fixed her hood to hide her hair. My hair would be like a beacon announcing my presence to those monsters. Why wasn't I born with dark hair like my mother again? Ugh. Not that it was my hair; it was actually my presence itself.
Only two things could happen if a darkspawn saw her. They would either be afraid of her and run as fast as they could the other way or they would go berserk and attack everything that moves. The Hurlock roared and charged at the Legion of Dead.
Great. Just great. Talia saw the group of mortals pitch in and help. I guess they are the good sort of people.
Another stint of long walks and a sprinkle of darkspawn here and there and the group finally reached the bridge which Talia often called 'The Ambush Bridge'. This wasn't good. They weren't even prepared to fight. The dwarf was happily chatting away with the funny one while the golem was speaking to the golden-haired man about 'it' this and 'it' that. Just then an ogre appeared with many Genlocks and Hurlocks surrounding him. The golem quickly took a stone and threw it over to scatter the 'spawns. They did. But only for a short time. The dwarf charged at the nearest Genlock and cleaved its head off. On the other side, the funny one was being attacked by the ogre. He raised his shield up to block one attack after another. The golden-haired man suddenly jumped at the ogre and stabbed his sword through its head. The ogre gave a deafening roar and slowly sank to the ground. A Hurlock bolter suddenly appeared behind him and aimed an arrow to his back.
Something possessed Talia to jump out and help the mortals. She threw one of her onyx knives and it sank right in the middle of the Hurlock's head; but not before triggering his crossbow to fire at the man. It hit him on his arm.
Well, at least that won't kill him. Talia mentally shrugged.
She ran to the middle of the fight and screamed one word.
"Hessad!" Mine.
All the darkspawns suddenly stopped fighting and raised their heads. That's right assholes. Come and get me. As if performing a well practiced play, the darkspawns started running towards her. Some of the smaller and weaker genlocks fled but the Hurlock Alpha wanted her head. He charged at her. Talia aimed a precise kick on its chest and brought her sword down its throat. The others were easy to kill. They were clumsy little things that charged at every open opportunity. Killing them was like wiping a sweat off her brow. Talia completely sliced the last one in half and looked around. Guess I killed all of them.
The golden-haired man looked up and met her eyes for a second, gold eyes staring into blue. He was like a hunter and she felt like his prey. Talia didn't like it. He was a mortal. Maybe it was the way he challenged her simply by his stare, but she immediately developed a hate-on for him.
The man gave her a feral grin and made her heart skip a beat. She pointed her sword to him. Challenging him and waiting for him to accept.
"I don't know about you Curran, but I think she doesn't like us." The funny one started to help him up.
Curran snorted and finally broke eye-contact.
Talia placed Dumat's Spine back to its sheath on her waist. Challenge not accepted. Ah well, it's still early anyways.
"I take it that you're not here to kill us?" Curran raised an eyebrow.
"Figure that out yourself didn't you champ? Well congratulations. What clued you in? The 'I just saved you' part or the 'I just killed forty-eight darkspawns for you' part?"
"The part where you're just talking to me and not stabbing me right now, actually." Curran gave her a mocking grin.
Smartass. Talia shrugged. "Well, there's that."
Curran tilted his head to the side. "So the question is . . . why?"
"There is a group of people who needed help. I figured that it'd be an interesting end to my day." That and I fucking hate darkspawn.
"Are you traveling the deep roads alone?" The funny one took his helmet off.
Talia froze. "Maric?" What in the world is the King of Ferelden doing in the deep roads again?
"Ah. No. It's actually Alistair. Maric is well . . . gone." He stuttered. Everyone else was deafeningly quiet.
Talia mentally smacked her head. "Of course. What was I thinking?" Time passes very quickly for these mortals. Maric probably already died and even if he was still alive, he would've been older. Still, the resemblance is striking. It makes me feel a little sad.
"You didn't know that King Maric was dead?" Curran's brows furrowed.
"I think the last time I was in the surface was about fifty– no sixty years ago. How would I–" That was when she realized her mistake.
Curran's eyes narrowed. "Now that I think of it, you're quite different." He took a step closer to Talia. "The color of your hair is unlike anything I've seen and your eyes, a while ago while you were fighting, your eyes were gold, but now they're blue, maybe a little on the violet side but very far from gold."
Sharp wasn't he? Talia tried to back away but Curran grabbed her arm.
"Careful. Someone might get the wrong idea and assume that you're flirting with me." Talia Alastrina, when faced with conflict, deflect with humor and sarcasm. Whoopee!
"Are you a demon, I wonder?" Curran traced a finger against her cheek. Intimidating. He was trying to intimidate her.
Talia slapped his hand away. "You see someone whose wounds heal very fast. Whose eyes change color and the first thing that comes off your mind is a demon? My, my, that hurt my feelings. Here I thought you were smarter than other mortals."
"I usually am." Curran grabbed Talia's right arm where a wound is rapidly healing, the skin stitching up on itself. His eyes grew wide and immediately released her.
"I know who you are!" He hissed. His companions suddenly looked like they wanted to be anywhere but where they were. Alistair muttered something about setting up camp and dragged the other two with him.
Talia raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me then."
"There were tales. Tales that my father often told me when I was younger. A tale about a silver-haired woman who would appear in lands filled with blood." He paused to look at his companions. Everyone was trying hard not to look like they were listening attentively.
"Well go on, I do need a bedtime story before I sleep." If he was familiar with that tale I would want to know if he got the facts right.
Curran started pacing around me. "A long time ago there was war and bloodshed in every part of Ferelden. The Orlesians were taking over and anyone who opposed them was killed. My father was a young boy then and his father secretly aided the throne. When the rebel queen Moira was defeated, there were tales stating that a silver haired woman came to her aid and tried to save her. When it was obvious that the rebel queen wouldn't live, the silver haired woman asked her one wish, and she asked for Maric's safety."
Talia sat on the nearest rock and Curran did the same, sitting across her. Behind them, the others started a small fire.
"After that, every time there were whispers about someone trying to assassinate Maric, they would always turn up dead the next day with a single blue rose on their chest. For a long time people thought that this silver-haired woman was an apparition of Andraste."
"Maybe she is." Talia took a small rock and flung it across the cave. There was only one family who knew about her existence.
"Maybe. But not to the Couslands." And there it was. The Couslands. The family that protected her. One of the few mortal families she cared for.
"My grandmother used to have blue roses in her study when she was alive. No one knew where they came from. They were always just there. When both my grandparents died, hundreds of blue roses appeared beside their tomb the next day. The villagers were scared but my mother and father; they just smiled and mentioned one word." Curran looked up. His eyes met Talia's. "Alastrina." He gave a sigh. "I wonder if Alastrina left them roses."
What? Why would I?
As if reading her mind Curran looked down and said, "Howe's men murdered my parents."
Talia suddenly felt warm tears on her cheeks. The Couslands were an old and honorable family. The first time Talia went to the surface, she was a naïve little thing and the first of the Couslands took her in as if she was one of their own. Generation after generation they were all the same loving and kind-hearted people. She missed their warmth, the warmth which only a family could bring. She had been so busy trying to figure out how to save her own hide that she forgot to protect them.
Curran wiped a tear off her cheek with his thumb.
Talia suddenly stood up. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure that these men pay." What else was she supposed to say?
"Sit down Alastrina." Curran held her hand.
"I'm not–"
"Don't lie. My grandfather has a painting of you kept in our vault. I saw it while trying to escape the castle. I just didn't expect to see you in flesh." He gave Talia's hand another tug and she finally sat back down, this time, beside him.
Curran was one of those few mortals who projected an aura of fear. It was like he had this strength coiled up inside him waiting to explode. The only other person who gave off an aura like that was Maric. Talia could still remember him fighting with Fiona and the others.
"The last time I saw Bryce and Eleanor, was when they were just married. After that I never went to the surface again." Talia looked down.
"But my grandparents– The roses?" Curran gave her a bewildered look.
"I had them brought there. Had I known that it would be my last opportunity to see your parents, I would've brought them myself." Talia's voice was distant. It isn't fair how I always watch people I love grow old and die. Sometimes I wish I could have a chance to live like them, to know how it feels to live and love knowing that it would end and that when it ends; there'll be someone by my side who would make the journey with me. There was a time when I thought it was possible. A time when Maric was beside me, telling me that everything will be fine. Times like those were long gone.
"They would've liked to see you too. They often spoke about you as if you were a friend in a far away land." Curran's voice jerked her out of her reverie.
"I think the Deep Roads is very far from where you're from."
"Wait you live here?" Both of Curran's eyebrows shot up.
"Well. No. Yes." Talia sighed. "I stay here most of the time to guard my uncles."
"You have relatives here?"
Something was wrong. The Couslands told their children about the real tale of the Old Gods when they're too old to carry on the knowledge. Of course! Eleanor and Bryce haven't told their children yet. They didn't expect to be murdered in their own castle.
Talia rubbed a hand over my eyes. She was suddenly very tired. "Tell you what, I'll tell you tomorrow. I would even let you get some supplies from my place just, just let me rest first and gather my thoughts."
Curran looked as if he would disagree but shrugged. "Suit yourself." He stood up and went to where Alistair was cooking something to a uniform grey. He waved a hand to Talia.
Talia walked over to where Alistair was.
"So I hope you'll like my cooking." Alistair gestured to the boiling pot. He really did look exactly like Maric. It was unnerving and amusing at the same time.
"You're his son aren't you?" Talia looked at the pot and decided to add a couple of her dried herbs in it.
"Ha-ha. Very funny. How'd you know?" Alistair was a little red and Talia shrugged as she took a couple of seasoning from her pouch and added it to the grey mass of blob.
"You look like him," She stirred the pot a little, "And you cook like him."
"All Fereldens cook their food into a uniform grey." Alistair laughed.
"Well want some?" Talia took a small cut of cheese from her pouch.
Alistair's eyes grew as big as saucers.
"Pffft. I knew it." She tossed the small cheese to him. It was as if she was talking to Maric again. She didn't know whether to be happy or sad.
"Are all the Theirin's crazy about cheese?" Curran sat near the fire.
"I only know one Theirin." Talia stirred the pot once more and decided that it was good enough. "Maric loved cheese. I'm pretty sure that's the only reason why he needed me back then. I was his personal cheese provider." She laughed a little.
"You knew him very well?" Alistair asked.
"We were . . . close." Now that's what I call an understatement of massive proportions.
Alistair suddenly looked sad. "I wish I could've met him."
That made Talia stop. "Isn't Cailan your brother?"
"I won't even ask how you know everything but yes, he is my half-brother. My mother was a serving girl in the castle." Talia struggled to calm her thoughts. Fiona. Fiona was pregnant when she left. It was an almost impossible thing for Grey Wardens to conceive a child after joining because of the taint but it did happen. She thought they would've kept the child in Weisshaupt and away from the throne. I wonder if this child is that same child. There's only one way to find out.
"There's a locket. There's a symbol of Andraste's flame on it. Have you ever seen anything like that?" It was a shot in the dark but she did tell Fiona to give the child that locket. It had her portrait in it, enchanted to fit in something that small. Something for her child to hold since the Grey Wardens would never allow her keep the child.
Alistair fumbled over his neck and produced the very locket Talia had given to Fiona. "You mean this?"
Talia slowly reached out to take the locket. It felt heavy on her hands, like a rock dragging her down to the deepest depths of the ocean. She opened it and there it was. Fiona's serene face smiling softly at her.
"So. Do golems know any good jokes?" The dwarf's voice suddenly cut Talia from her reverie. He was approaching the golem behind Curran.
"Oghren. Don't." Curran warned the dwarf.
Oghren waved a hand and completely ignored him.
The golem turned to look at Oghren. "I know at least one. It is a drunken dwarf that travels with the Grey Warden, constantly belching and–"
"Bah! I mean a real one! You must have overheard at least one or two standing there as you did for years and years!"
"There was a human man who once started telling a joke to another as he relieved himself on my leg. I confess I didn't listen. I was too busy planning my revenge."
"Eh? And what happened to him?" Oghren rubbed his beard.
"He disappeared during the fighting in Honnleath. Tragic. Hit his head on a rock, I think."
"Huh. Remind me not to fart anywhere near you." Oghren stood up and made his way to the fire. He sat in front of where Alistair and Talia were.
"Here." Talia handed the locket back to Alistair. She held his hand in hers and gave him a soft smile. I'll tell him everything about his heritage when the time is right.
Oghren belched. "So. With the lady, aye?" He gave Talia a waggle of his thick eyebrows. She immediately took her hands off Alistair's. Maric would be rolling on his grave. Wherever that was.
"Pardon?" Alistair tucked the locket back into his armor.
"You and the lady. Rolling your oats." The dwarf leered at Talia.
Ugh.
"I don't know–"
"Polishing the footstones."
Alistair blushed profusely. "–what you're—"
"Tapping the midnight still, if you will." Talia chuckled a little at what the dwarf was insinuating.
"What are you going on about?" Alistair was now completely red on the face.
"Forging the moaning statue. Bucking the forbidden horse. Donning the velvet hat." The dwarf continued.
Curran rolled his eyes.
"Are you just making these up right now?"
"Nope. Been saving 'em." Oghren shrugged.
Talia laughed.
"You're a funny one, aren't you, Oghren." She handed the dwarf a bowl of stew.
"Trust me; you're the first one to tell him that." Curran chuckled a little.
"Bah. You people don't appreciate my humor. You're in my list of nice people now lady." He told her and stood up to eat beside the golem. He would undoubtedly try to annoy it again.
Talia looked at Curran and he gave her a smile. There it was again. That little fluttering feeling.