Upset

While running an errand, Hawke is caught out on the Wounded Coast in the middle of a storm, and rescues the victim of a shipwreck. What he doesn't know, is that this person will forever change fate, not just his own, but all of Thedas.

"Knight-Captain, perform your duty!"

Cullen stared down into depth-less blue-green eyes, eyes which held no fear, no anger, only a calm acceptance and eternal forgiveness.

"Do it." Dark lips mouthed, and brown eyelids slid closed.

"No." Cullen drew back, deliberately dropping the brand upon the stone floor. "No. This is wrong, Knight-Commander. This mage has done no wrong.

"Knight-Captain Cullen, are you refusing to obey a direct order." Meredith's voice was all fury hidden under a manic calm.

"Knight-Commander, this is madness-"

"Step aside, Knight-Captain. If you cannot perform your duty, than I shall."

"Knight-Commander-"

"Restrain the Knight-Captain," Meredith's voice cracked like a whip, and immediately two of the burly Templars leapt forward, seizing Cullen by the shoulders and dragging him out of the circle. Cullen bellowed, bucking and kicking against the men restraining him as Meredith, eyes wide and unblinking, stepped forward, picking the lyrium brand up from the floor before sticking it back in the brazier.

"Heat the coals," Meredith's voice rang like iron on an anvil, strident and unyielding. As the squire fearfully began to pump the bellows, Meredith's eye's never left the swiftly heating brand buried in the fire, turning the rod this way and that as Cullen continued to struggle not ten feet away. "Restrain the Knight-Captain. He is obviously bewitched by this mage."

Meredith withdrew the brand, the iron glowing dully orange, before inspecting the brightly blue sigil minutely, as if admiring the color.

Through all of this, Nuaso had kept her eyes shut, unmoving from her position except for the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"Look at me mage." Meredith commanded, stepping forward to glare down at the upturned face.

Nuaso calmly opened her eyes to stare up at the Knight-Commander.

Meredith smiled, beatifically. "Blessed are the righteous," and pressed the glowing lyrium to Nuaso's forehead.

There was the stink of burning flesh.

Nuaso didn't move. Her eyes were rolled back in her head. Blue lines of power could be seen traveling under skin, spreading, prickling across her skull but within her scalp creating a nauseating spiderweb.

Cullen was screaming, his voice like the sound of storm in a bottle, gone hoarse from his protests that "this was wrong!"

Meredith nodded, eyes closed with satisfaction, but her expression changed abruptly as she tried to pull the brand away. Snarling, Meredith yanked, and suddenly fell backwards, speechless, as black cracked stone fell out of the sigils frame.

But everyone else in the room was staring, speechless, at the unmoving form of Nuaso, who, far from exhibiting the signs of Tranquility, was burning with an inner fire. Her eyes were closed, but lights could be seen through her sealed eyelids.

"Abomination!" Meredith shrieked, drawing her sword, but before the Commander could take so much as a single step forward, Nuaso threw out her arms, sending a wave of force which cast every Templar in the room against the walls. The brazier clattered to the floor, spilling coals suddenly gone cold and lifeless, torches flickering out in quivering puffs before the force of the gale in the closed room.

Cullen stared, speechless as before his eyes, the lines of lyrium flowing back to the brand, burning the same brilliant blue as before. Light blazed from her and her alone, growing brighter and brighter with every passing second. The brand screamed, wind curling around the cross-legged figure, whirling in a miniature hurricane centered on her.

Out of the corner of one eye, Cullen could see Meredith standing, prone against the wall, arms raised in the invocation of the Holy Smite, her voice keening against the howling wind, eyes boiling with rage and fear as her every blow was proven impotent.

The lyrium, once a sunburst sigil, swirling like the heart of a storm across the mages forehead, imploded upon itself, coalescing into a circle of burning light, bright and alive and-

Singing?

Force thundered again within the cell, stones singing in concert as, head thrown back, Nuaso floated from the floor, still frozen in cross-legged rigor, as more power flowed into the brand upon her skull. Sound and pressure grew. Cullen could feel the tears running down his face at the beauty of the song.

Maker, if you take me now-

The cell door burst outward into the hall, and the wind, now given and exit, screamed through the passage, the sound of the song of magic racing right beside it.

The song whirled out of the Gallows, past Templars at prayer who threw themselves to the floor in supplication, voices rising in homage. It cavorted and danced into the house of the Circle of Mages, who stood in dumb-struck wonder, smiling as the whispers of demons where suddenly stripped away leaving the purity of the wind behind.

It soared across the port, whipping and jockeying between the masts of ships and into Low Town's cracks and crevices, diving down and into the heart of Dark Town, making men and women look about in awe and bemusement, trying to find the source of the peaceful and joyous sound. Up, up, up it cantered, ducking through the houses of the rich in High Town like a thief on the run, planting sweet kisses on the lips of lonely women and hearty hugs around the shoulders of callous men. Around the spires of the cathedral it raced, swinging on the stone battlements and howling with merriment, before it took off into the wide blue sky above, and all the adventures which waited beyond.

Back in the cell, Cullen sagged, slumping boneless to his knees. Around him, he could hear and see his fellow Templars, frozen in reverence or with tears streaming down their faces. Some appeared to have even passed out, clutching their heads in remembrance of the magnitude which had overcome them.

Not Meredith though. Dragging herself to her feet, the Knight-Commander gripped her sword as if it were her last life-line in a storm-tossed sea.

"Thank you."

Cullen stared. Nuaso was standing, smiling beatifically, eyes still closed. Upon her brow, where there should have been the sun-burst brand, was unmarked flesh. Her eyes opened, and through his tears, Cullen starred into blue-green eyes which were limpid with exhaustion, but clearly and totally emotional.

"Thank you Templars.

Not Meredith though. Dragging herself to her feet, the Knight-Commander gripped her sword as if it were her last life-line in a storm-tossed sea.

"Knight-Commander, before your eyes, I have mastered your Rite of Tranquility, and in so doing, have gained the knowledge of Ascension. I am become the penultimate fortress, that which protects through freedom. Once again, I say, I am no threat to you, nor am I a threat to those you protect and serve."

"Liar," Meredith snarled, lips bloody, eyes streaming, "Abomination! Freak!" The curse and invectives spattered from her lips like spray from surf, as the Knight-Commander, with halting steps, closed upon the singular mage.

"You cannot win, Knight-Commander." Nuaso spoke, humility and forgiveness lilting upon every syllable, hands lifted in supplication. "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you could possibly imagine. Again, I swear, I am not your enemy. Find it within yourself to forgive those who hurt you, and you shall find the peace you have sought for so many years."

Meredith stopped. Swaying, she stared into the guileless eyes of woman in saffron robes, who had turned her city upside-down, who had challenged her, who had defeated the penultimate punishment a mage could endure.

For a moment, she wavered. For a single split second, Cullen saw clearly the flicker of sanity pass across the Knight-Commander's face. But then-

"Lies," Meredith breathed, and heaved her sword high over her head, keening for the entire world to hear, "Lies!"

Nuaso placed her hands together in prayer. The greatsword fell.

Before Cullen's eyes, Nuaso's tiny form disappeared. Saffron robes fell to the floor, empty, cast aside, unneeded.

For a moment, Cullen thought he felt a gentle caress upon his cheek, then the sound of wind passing out door, gone.

"No!" Meredith screamed, swinging the greatsword around in a blind arc- "You cannot escape me! You will not escape me! I am Knight-Commander of Kirkwall, and you shall not escape me!"

Meredith dashed out of the cell, still shrieking like a banshee at the top of her lungs, calling for the Templars to find the mage, seek her out, find her wherever she had gone.

Cullen sat for a long moment, starring at the center of the floor where, only moments before, the impossible had happened: A mage, unknown, unlooked for, un-Harrowed, unresisting, had submitted to the Rite of Tranquility, and had emerged, unharmed, mind and

For a moment, Cullen thought he felt a gentle caress upon his cheek, the scent of spice on the wind, and then the presence was simply gone. Not out the door, not out the window, but simply and contentedly gone.

"Knight-Captain?"

Cullen turned his head. Squire Jarvis, a supplicant from Ferelden, was starring, aghast, into the wreckage of the cell.

"Help me up."

"But Knight-Captain-"

"That was an order Brother Jarvis!"

Wordlessly, Jarvis stepped to Cullen's side and with a grunt, hoisted the Knight-Captain to his feet. Together, they climbed out of the cells, through passages filling with agitated Templars, and out, out into the sunshine.

There they found Meredith, still howling at the top of her lungs, swinging her greatsword at every puff of wind, shrieking vengeance upon all mages and damnation to every Templar who stood by, staring at the sight of their Knight-Commander, gone completely and utterly mad at last.

Cullen lowered himself down to a step, watching wordlessly, hopelessly satisfied. In that moment of song, all of his fears, the darkness which had been put there by blood-mages and demons, had been cleansed in melodic fire and eased with harmonic balm. He didn't know why or how. And he didn't care a wit.

"Mages will burn! I will slay all mages!" Meredith continued to scream.

"Oh, shut up you balmy harridan!"

There was a clank and a whirr, and Meredith collapsed to the ground, the feathered end of a short quarrel sticking out of her head.

Varric Tethras cranked his massive crossbow once as he, Garrett Hawke, Guard-Captain Aveline, Anders the apostate, scowling Fenris, Isabela the pirate, teary-eyed Merrill, sober Sebastian, and half-a-hundred Kirkwall guardsman walked into the Gallows.

"Knight-Captain, what should we do?" Jarvis's voice quivered through Cullen's mind.

"Nothing." Cullen stared into the endless blue sky, remembering eyes like warm seas and green woods, and a smile like the sun on a mountain meadow. "Nothing at all."

The End

Authors notes:

I was sitting at my desk, listening to Friend's as arranged by Nightcore, and suddenly I found myself on a wave of creation.

Nuaso is derived from nuoso, which is Finnish for "ascension".

I've been playing around with this idea of a mage from DA, using the same Flame-and-Void technique from Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series, and I wondered, "What would happen if a master of this technique was given the Rite of Tranquility?"

Also, I couldn't resist using the quote from Star Wars: Episode 4.

I'm printing this as a one-shot, but if I get enough reviews, I might try and expand upon it.