A/N: WARNING! You'll need to know about dragon age and Naruto if you wish to truly understand this story! Been dabbling in Dragon Age lately. This is what I came up with after TROUNCING both games (after many hours mind you, of which I have very little) and, thoroughly enjoying the story myself, this beautiful little vixen of an idea presented itself unto me. This is just the introduction mind you, but, in case you have not noticed, the pairing, for lack of a better term, is primarily NarutoxHawke, with a bit of Bethany on the side, LOL. Oh, and did I forget to mention that I think Carver is a complete and totall ASS? Anywho...
...enjoy!
Origins
The murky, dimly lit corridor echoed with three distinct sounds. The first to be heard was the double pairs of resounding metal boots. The second was the distinct sliding of dragging feet. The third sound was that of a dwarf's ragged breathing. He was being hauled by two human men in shining armor. Their breastplates were of fine and freshly polished wear. The insignia on their chests branded a single eye with fire escaping from its lidless pupil.
The dwarf, by comparison, bore tattered and worn leather clothes the colour of sand. The dusky brown vest was opened wide and belts snaked his lower torso. He had long, straight hair the same pallor as his clothes with the top half tied back with a leather band. He had a high, beaded necklace with a shell hanging from the center and he adjourned exactly three earrings; one on the left, and two on the right. They were gold, same as his eyes, which were at this point trained on the stone ground in front of him, most likely contemplating his escape options.
He was a crafty dwarf, to say the least.
Eventually, the men and their prisoner reached their destination. One iron-clad man kicked a wooden door open into what the dwarf first believed was an empty room. It was dark save for a dim ray of light coming from a lonely window many stories above the ground. At its center was a large wooden chair. It was only when he was shoved into that very uncomfortable seat did the dwarf finally speak.
"I've had gentler invitations," he grunted. His words ended in a dry cough and he had to clear his throat loudly. If he had just sit quietly, he would have heard the gentle rustle of pages and the slow breathing from a woman standing just shy of the dim light. The dwarf shook his head irritably and squinted into the endless darkness in before him, sensing her presence. The woman stepped forward, her boots made dull thuds on the floor.
"I am Cassandra Pentaghast, seeker of the Chantry," she spoke clearly and with confidence. She bore the same armor as the men standing guard on either side of the dwarf's chair. Except her clothes were more elaborate, symbolizing her standing among the men. She had short, dark hair and glowing amber eyes. They seemed to be searching for something in the dwarf's gaze and he blinked hard, feeling a prickle of unease. This woman wanted to peer into his soul. She turned that steely gaze from him and nodded at the men, who abandoned the dwarf to his fate, closing the door on the way out. The dwarf forced nonchalance, referring to her introduction with a chuckle.
"And just what are you seeking," he inquired lazily. "Seeker?"
She was not to be brushed aside, he would soon learn.
"The Champion," she answered curtly. The dwarf's breath hitched. That did not go unnoticed.
"Which one?" he examined his fingernails, avoiding the woman's stare. She rushed forward and struck him; hitting his smirking face with a leather bound book. It fell open on his lap, forgotten for a moment; because the woman's blade was at his throat.
"Time to start talking, dwarf!" she ordered, the thinnest venier of anger worming its way into the word. "They tell me you're good at it," with her venomous words, she turned her dagger down and stabbed it through the pages of the book. Dubiously, the dwarf lifted the book in his hands to observe the damage to the tome as she returned to her standing position a few feet from him.
With the woman's back to him, he said with a chuckle, "What do you want to know?" his voice was breathy from the near death experience. She turned back to him, eyes all but gleaming, gleaming with satisfaction.
"Everything," she demanded simply. "Start at the beginning," the dwarf stroked the pages of the book lovingly, with the blade still implanted in its heart. He did enjoy a good story. At length, his fingers curled around the handle and hilt; arresting the offending object and wrenching it free from the ancient pages. Tracing a finger alone its spine, he caressed its inner workings, laying his hands upon the finely wrought words and inhaling deeply.
"Well, it all started when The Champion first met the magi. Surrounded by Darkspawn-
"Bullshit!" She snapped before the story could unravel further. "That's not what really happened and you know it!"
The dwarf offered his shoulders with a shrug; in recompense for his temerity.
"Does that not match the stories you've been told, Seeker?"
"I'm not interested in stories." Stepping forward, she thrust an insolent finger into the dwarf's copulent chest hair. "I'm interested in the truth! There are lives at stake here! I will have the truth from you dwarf, one way or the other!"
The dwarf steepled his fingers, leaning into them.
"You'll have to hear the whole story, then...
Kirkwall was rotten.
Nay it was beyond rot. Kirkwall was decay, Kirkwall was corruption, it was a frothing cesspool of lawlessnesss; a pitiful postule of a city, whose attempts to create a semblance of order had failed since the downfall of the Tevinter Imperium. Here, in this city of chains, mages were imprisoned. They were scorned, ridiculed, treated as less than human, and, if they failed to obey the iron-clad Templars under Knight Commander Meredith, then they were deemed apostates.
And as apostates in Kirkrwall, they had no hope.
It was here, to this woeful city with its mournful statues and craggy peaks, that the blond magi found himself bound. Kirkwall. The City of Chains. A loathsome city, once ruled by the Tevinters, now supposedly part of the Free Marches after their slaves rebelled six centuries prior. The irony was not lost on him. If Kirkwall could be considered free any mage would not have to fear it and the terrors housed within its walls.
'And here I am, about to walk into the belly of the beast.'
The thought jolted through him; it was like lightning arcing down his spine. He didn't like this. Not at all. Torn somewhere between fight and flight, and, finding neither readily available, it was terrifying. It was the most base, horrible sensation in the world, and he loathed himself for it all the more. No. He couldn't falter. Not here. Not now, not when he had so much at stake, so much to lose...
"You're shivering again, boy."
The voice was soft; emerging as little more than a whisper in the back of Naruto's skull.
"Am I?" He half-sighed, suddenly aware of the bitter chill in the air. He turned, a blodo red iris reappearing over one shoulder, regarding the one who had spoken "No matter, I'll just turn up the heat, then." Before he could think to stop himself, he'd already snapped his fingers; igniting a flame the size of a small sovereign within his hand. Cradling it towards his chest, pressing the wamth into his body; the faint illumination became blatantly obvious to all those within the hold.
Too late, he realized his mistake.
"Are you sodding mad?" The voice pressed again, more insistent this time, as if to berate him for his folly. "You'll burn the ship down and drown us both!"
"Like you nearly did that time in Orlais?" The magi mentally countered, suddenly aware of the many pairs of eyes leveling upon him and his seemingly one-sided discussion. "I knew you liked to tumble 'em and forget 'em, but damn...
"Don't blame me!" A tugging protest warred with his willpower for a moment longer, then subsided. "Blame that pale-eyed serving wench and her feminine wiles!"
"Oh sure, sure." He nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all. "Sorry miss, I was possessed! I wasn't trying to rape, no, you at all! As a matter of fact, I find you quite endearing and most beautiful!" Now, he did giggle, almost breaking down into hysterics outright as the memory resurfaced. That had been the first, and the last time he'd ever dared too allow himself the pleasures of wine and women. Nevermore.
Not since...the incident.
"Bah!" It snorted, and the sound carried like thunder from within the darkest corners of his mind. "Had I known you would be such a tempestuous host, I would never have agreed to such a merger in the first place!" Though half-hearted, the spirit's words held no small truth. Their union had been one of necessity, not convenience. She had no way of knowing that the charming young blond to whom she'd catered was really a possesed mage. Really, how could she have known? Had he been his normal typical audacious self that night, rather than languishing over his failures, certain to make sure there had been no inkling of the sinister taint eroding his very soul, things might have been more than a little different.
Then he'd gotten drunk...
...accidentally giving his passenger a much needed chance to emerge.
He shuddered at the memory.
Aveline, the fair crimson-haired warrior whom he'd first met on the burning plains of Lothering, offered a disapproving frown when he met her gaze. He cringed away from her and her disapproval and sought to turn his attention elsewhere. Anywhere but here. He didn't want to dwell on his own impending doom, or the fact that he'd revealed himself to be a blood mage before the eyes of these poors sods only hours before.
Anything but that.
It didn't matter that he'd saved a life; and it certainly didn't help that the girl's mother continued to heap praises upon him, either.
Inevitably, his eyes set themselves upon the gallows once more.
"So then, this is Kirkwall?" the as-of-yet unamed asked his merry band of followers, most of whom weren't quite so merry at the moment. Mostly with good reason. Carver, younger brother to Hawke, and twin sister of Bethany, maintained his silent vigil from across the hold. Always watching. Always waiting. Never once did his gaze stray from the blond maleficarum who had saved his sisters; nor did his gaze hold the slightest iota of gratitude.
His sisters were another story.
Marian Hawke, eldest of the three, lifted her head from the tome that she was reading and smiled. Two fingers brushed a particularly thick strand of hair from her eyes, thusly removing the only obstacle eclipsing her beauty and warding the similarity away from that of her younger sister, Bethany. For a moment, it looked like she might've offered an opinion of her own
Bethany, the girl whose life he had wrested away from the void, stole a glance at him; her cheeks darkening as he caught that gaze and held it level within his own. He stared, until he was almost certain that she would speak, then he flung a staff at her.
"Here, catch!"
Bethany yelped, flinging her hands up in defense as though the staff might bite her. When it did not, she was then left fumbling over the weapon for a terrifying second before she finally managed to secure a proper handhold on the offending item; a beautiful double-edged magister's staff. Colored the most pristine shade of porcelain white, its warm and yet yielding to the touch, the well-worn oak conforming to her hand upon contact, molding to a hairsbreadth of delicacy.
She knew, even without touching it; because the staff was made from lyrium.
Affixed to the center of the pole was a beautiful sapphire gilded within layer upon layer of silverlite and lyrium. It was as much a mage's weapon as it was a blade. She cradled it in her hands for a moment, marveling at the masterpiece that had just been beqeauthed to her. It was exquisite designed, its beauty bellying that of the charming charisma its possibly lyrium-addled owner possesed. What shores had this weapon seen? What horizons had it explored, what enemies had it vanquished!
Finally, she blinked, her expression becoming one of questioning concern.
"Wait, why are you giving me your staff?"
The blonde's good mood soon sombered, then turned dour.
"You gonna tell her?" The voice asked, its curiosity momentarily piqued.
'No.' Naruto mentally aquescied. 'Not everything. I'd sooner meet my end in the Gallows than tell her the whole story.'
"This is the thanks I get for bringing that wench back to life? You could at least let me have my fun..."It drifted back into melancholy when it felt the subsuquent surge of disbelief and ire.
'Knock it off you perverted fox! Your other points are valid, but I'm not going to ask her to join us just so I can get laid!'
"Well you should! We've been living like a damned monk for the last two years ever since that bitch dumped us and I'm sick of it! I wanna see some action!"
'Enough, I'm not having this conversation with you right now!' Naruto shouted back with righteous anger before turning his attention back to Bethany.
"Because I am hunted." He began, his voice little more than a whisper, heard only between the two of them. "There are some...undesirable individuals seeking me and I would rather remain inconspicuous and loathed amongst these people than be known and welcome amongst them." Bethany helpfully scooted closer prompting a charigned grin from the magi who'd gone by as many names as he had fingers and toes.
"Why are you being hunted?" she asked.
The magi flipped his hands over, palms upward toward the metal-grated ceiling of the hold. Emblazoned upon either palm was the sigil of what looked like a leaf, carved down into the very essence of his flesh. Scrawled across these singular markins, a series of thorny brambles stretched upward from his wrists, circling his arms, rounding his elbows and, gradually, eventually tapering off into a series of markings that rounded his fingertips.
"Because my talents are desired by many." He answered flatly, reaching into his pouch. "In the past they have been useful. Now, they hound me for what I am. But I digress."
Tugging on a pair of worn, fingerless gloves, he turned his attention back to Bethany.
"For the extent of my stay in Kirkwall, no one must know that I am a mage." He explained. "I have no desire to visit The Gallows anytime soon." He paused then, lingering on Bethany, then her sister, Hawke, for what felt like an eternity. "Then again, neither of you should reveal yourselves while we are here." A fact that was glaringly quite obvious, given the bloodied robes that he still wore from their last battle in Ferelden. He'd refused to change; leaving most of them to cringe from the unpleasant aroma that the taint-eroded garments still exuded.
"Do you understand?" he repeated blackly. "This is my secret. A secret that no mage must know, save yourself and perhaps your sister. Certainly not your mother, and mostly not your brother, either."
"So then, what would you have us normal folk do once we reach fair Kirkwall?" An unplesant voice groused from the other side of the hold. Knowing who had spoken, the magi needn't have bothered to turn. But he did turn, and it was a genial face that he presented toward Carver, Bethany's twin and, by default, Hawke's younger brother. Somehow, the boy had managed to make their journey to Kirkwall even more intolerable than it already was; what with having three apostates-one far more dangerous than the others- onboard a ship; to which they'd been ferried by the Witch of the Wilds herself.
"I'd prefer that we all temain inconspicous." The magi's brisk and terse answerment came. "Although, with that petulant pout of yours, it might prove too much for you."
Bethany couldn't help herself; she giggled.
"Says the mage." The younger brother of Hawke groused irritably. "Sister, I can't believe you're taking his side!"
"Well if you'd like," Naruto began lightly, "You could always throw yourself overboard and save us the trouble."
"You first!" Carver snapped back.
"Carver!" Their mother immediately chastised. "I'm so sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him...
The magi said nothing, but his granite grey gaze inevitably slid to Hawke, clearly seeking her counsel. He gestured furtively, the words escaping him as he sought her advice; whatever it might be. Much like Bethany, her sister seemed to be on the verge of breaking out into giggles. A fact that did not escape the maleficarum. Well, he supposed, it was rather humorous after all; although he hadn't intended it to be.
"What would you have us do then, Hawke?"
"Storm the keep, swords swinging?" Jested Hawke, her light, airy tone, as always, proving to be a balm for his spirit. She was light-hearted for a mage and she'd every reason to be. Her little sister had been restored to life right before her very eyes, after all. That was enough to brighten anyone's day. Yes, she'd lost friends, family, and her home to the Darkspawn, but somehow, she perservered.
Naruto laughed aloud, his sorrow momentarily forgotten.
"Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret." Aveline murmurred thickly. "Which one is it then, Hawke?" Clearly, she was incapable of
"That's enough." The blond magi rumbled; the sound was low, coming from deep within his chest. "Both of you, stop bickering." In a flash he sprang to his feet and in the next he'd firmly inserted himself between the two of them; his back to Hawke, facing forward at Aveline. He glowered down at her and waited, waited for the inevitable outburst that was bound to come roiling forth like a great and angry tempest.
He hadn't been able to save Wesley. To do so required a magic beyond what even that of a maleficarum's could produce. The only way the only known way to survive the taint was to become a Grey Warden. Of that, and that alone, blood magic was incapable. He could raise the dead. He could heal the worst of wounds. But for all his power, he could not, he simply could not, contend with the taint of the darkspawn.
He just wasn't that powerful.
She gathered her full strength to strike him; he blew in her face.
Aveline's thoughts scattered as if that puff had been a hurricane.
He said nothing.
Naruto looked into her eyes and deep within his eyes was something that made her want to gibber like a madwoman. It was like staring at the night sky after learning for the first time that the stars were not pinpricks in the raiment of heaven, but each its own sun, billions of leagues distant. To stare into this man's eyes was to realize how small one was.
"We are done." At length, Naruto spoke.
"What?"
"We are done fighting." He repeated dully, bracing his footing as a low rumble passed through the underbelly of the ship. "Understand?" They'd docked, she realized, and yet she was still unable to tear her gaze away from the burning man before her.
It brought her back; back to their escape from Ferelden...
(Days before)
The flames were searingly, scorchingly hot.
"Well well, what have we here?" The stranger asked herself, peering down at the lot of them as if they were insects to be inspected then crushed underfoot. "It used to be we never got visitors to the wilds; but now it seems they arrive in hordes." Amusement flitted across the features of her face; belatedly leaving the party to realize a joke had just been made on their behalf.
"Festis bei umo canavarum."
The blond mage cursed in a language that neither brother nor sister recognized.
"Andraste's great flaming ass," Carver hissed out, "What the hell was that?"
"It means you will be the death of me." The blond magi snapped back. "Now, would you please plug up that gawping hole you call a mouth and listen?"
Aveline was a bit more reserved in her objections.
"Maker perserve us." She murmurred aloud, risking a percursory glance first to the strange creature that had saved them; then back to her ailing husband. If the discrepancy offended her, then the dragon-woman did little to show it. Instead, her grey gaze swept over them all, taking in first the crude expression worn by the weakened Wesely, the terse, unexpected snarl the blond magi offered, and the sheer disbelief of the remainder of the party.
Her lips drew up into a small smile.
"If you wish to flee the darkspawn, you should know that you are heading in the wrong direction." She turned, golden amber iris lazily regarding the tense posture of the magi who, as of yet, refused to speak so much as a word in her prescence. Now he raised his gaze to meet that of the strange being who was either a witch, or a dragon. There was a strange semblance of what felt like defiance seething behind those laconic orbs of sapphire and scarlet, almost as if they were glowing...
"Wait!" He almost rounded on Bethany when she cried out, so astounded was he by her ignorance. "You can't just leave us here!"
"Can I not?"
The shapeshifter paused, regaling them with a glorious view of her backside for a moment longer. Then she turned and her eyes were hard as flint; a sharp contrast to the soft liquid that was her voice:
"I spotted a most curious sight. A mighty ogre, vanquished! Who could perform such a feat?" Intrigued, her golden gaze smoldered upon the magi for a moment longer before it slid aside to outspoken apostate. "But now my curiousity is sated and thanks to that maleficarum, you are safe...for now. Is that not enough?" Thankfully, Wesley hadn't the strength to reach for his blade; because if he had then a templar would currently be headless.
"I bid you be silent, woman!"
The blond magi snarled, teeth gnashing together with a sudden sharpness that belied the bestiality of his behavior. But that was all. He did not grow horns, nor did fire sprout from his skin, nor was he left a deformed husk of his former self. Sapphire yielded to scarlet, twin pinpricks of crimson that glinted in the early evening light and promised an eternity of pain for those that dared trespass.
"Do not bare your fangs at me, boy." The dragon woman quirked an eyebrow at this sudden spout of anger, seemingly unamused by the vehemence with which he had offered in recompense for her temerity. Beneath that gaze he wilted, regaining some semblance of normacly. "It was you who first made the pact with that creature, not I. Now that I mention it, how has that fox been as of late? I take it the two of you are getting along well?"
Abruptly Naruto paled, and found the dirt beneath his soles to be absolutely fascinating.
Bethany's jaw dropped a little.
"Did I hear correctly? You are an...abomiation?"
The mage half-turned, regarding her with eyes as strange and matchless as the sun and moon. The left remained as clear as the deep blue sea. The right however, had turned a strange and brooding scarlet, upheaving the iris of said eye into a vertical slit that practically oozed malevolence. Then the magi blinked and the mismatching hues of scarlet and sapphire faded, returning to a faded, war-weary blue.
"Apostate maleficarum, what's the difference?" Hawke shrugged lightly, her tone suddenly airy. "We owe ours lives to him. You, most of all, Bethany." Beneath the scrutinizing gaze of her elder sibling, Bethany felt her cheeks darken substantially; left warring with the opposing forces of relief and disgust that welled up within her breast. Eventually in exasperation, she decided to settle with the former, rather than the latter.
At length, she painted a smile upon her face.
"Thank you."
The blond magi blinked, releasing the tension in his shoulders with such suddeness that the life leached from his face. It was like looking at two entirely opposite entities, each warring for control of the same body. Bethany saw this, her mind flashing back to the brutal ease with which the magi had halved the ogre, then the tender ministrations thatd nursed her back to health and returned her from being forever lost into the veil.
This man was an abomination.
And yet, he still held human form. He spoke, thought, reasoned even, as if he were just that, a human.
Was it truly possible for such a being to exist?
"You needn't thank me." He relented at last, sagging, as if the words somehow left him drained. "What I did for you was well within my power to do. I simply decided to act as
"I still wanted to say it."
"Knowing that I have saved a soul as pure as yours from the Fade is a reward in and of itself." Then the blond magi smiled; it was a warm, gentle gesture, one that he needn't have bothered to reciprocate, but nevertheless, reciprocate he did. "However, your gratitude is most appreciated, serah." He inclined his head in polite deference toward them, and the gesture was not lost on the sisters.
Nor was it on Carver.
The magi blinked; his eyes closing and opening slowly.
"I have gone by many names, brother of friend Hawke." His mouth quirked in wry amusement. "Once, I would have you call me Naruto. Given the current circumstances, well, I suppose Arashi will suffice."
"I've got my eye on you."
Naruto's smile was positively beatified.
"And I you, friend Carver."