The Dragon Age world, plot, and their characters aren't mine but belong to Bioware. I get no money for writing this sequel. This story is a side to the author's other story, A Match to Tinder.
- x x -
- Minanter River, not far inside the Starkhaven borderSebastian Vael:
The river was finally broadening and growing more shallow less than three weeks later in my journey. I'd hired passage on a fast ship to Wycome, and then on a courier making for Tantervale and Nevarra itself, the Ghislain Darter. I would not need to go that far, but I was glad to be returning home on the great river. The Minanter and the many waters that fed it in Starkhaven were graceful ribbons though the lush green prosperity of my home. It was our road and everflowing fountain of the Maker's blessings.
Seneto had done a commendable job protecting me on our journey. There had been the occasional thug who sought profit off a poor brother, the more foolish they. He was getting tense, as I'd paid him none of my limited coin. The heirloom ring was of enough worth to serve as a contract for his services; I'd been carrying little money on that terrible day. I'd traded other items for our passage.
At least I could console myself that it seemed that Hawke had no more time to prepare than I. The abomination must have prepared for what happened, so I had no idea how entrenched their forces were in Kirkwall in the weeks since then.
Courier pigeons had spread news even faster than our hurried journey by ship, so wild rumors had outpaced us. Every dock had guards or Templars watching every boat when they docked, making sure that no one could jump ship without being noticed.
The news we heard was garbled, and I didn't know what to believe.
I could confirm the Chantry's destruction by a mage and that the Gallows was still standing when we left.
I could tell others that the Champion had been involved and my suspicions about blood magic as the cause.
I could not convince the people I met along the way that the abomination had been hiding his plans for many years. They disbelieved it, even daring to disbelieve that I was a Vael. One merchant, whose son was healed a year ago in Darktown, openly scoffed at the whole idea an abomination could wait instead of causing an immediate bloodbath of magic.
What we hadn't heard about was what happened after the rebellion. Some said the Champion left her estate and moved into the Viscount's palace. Some said that no one had seen her, because she'd been horribly mutilated by a bolt and was waiting for the city smiths to make her a mask of jade. Pirates were raiding ships of the Qun with letters of marque from the new Viscountess. An actors' troop was telling her story with her as triumphant hero who slew everyone in the Templar barracks and the mages to take power. Another rumor said Grey Wardens were demanding access to lower parts of Darktown as Darkspawn were leaking out of forgotten corners. Another said the Champion was forming an army like the Penderghasts of old to reform Kirkwall.
Despite everything I said to people I met, too many sailors and travelers had seen that blasted statue in the docks and thought Hawke looked like that. She and the maleficar had been spotted attacking several Templar bases and chantries within days of the Event in Kirkwall. I could not believe that gossip had any truth.
Those were easy to discount as no one could travel that fast. More alarming was that there had been an uprising in the Circle in Nevarre. And there, it had been somewhat successful, though the Chantry had taken a hand when the Templar were defeated. Val Royeaux has not fallen, praise the Maker. There was always a contingent of Templars and even Seekers in Orlais, as the home of the Divine. Ferelden was quiet of news, but they still had not recovered from the Blight completely from what I'd heard over the years. Whatever other ways that land was going astray, I don't think I'd heard any dispute that it was a true Blight from any Grey Warden, even from wardens stationed further away like Starkhaven and Weisshaupt. I wondered how they knew. Rumors from further away weren't believable.
These rumors came from nobles, commoners, and merchants as we traveled, the same ones I was counting on appealing to for help to reclaim Starkhaven from my cousin. I prayed that I had not stayed away too long, that I still had a home. I wanted to be able to return home through the front door, and not the back like some filthy assassin or tradesman.
When the Darter reached the toll island, it docked and I went ashore. The river's waters were much too shallow for the ship's draft for most of Starkhaven unless we were in the spring flooding.
I started to pay our toll, but instead got a crisp salute.
"Your Highness, welcome home," came from an older soldier who'd been watching those who disembarked.
"Thank you," I acknowledged, wondering who he was, "It is good to be home."
"We're all sorrowed about the events in Kirkwall, Your Highness. There was great fear here that you had died as well," he said after going to his knees in an old obeisance. "We could not begrudge a calling to the Maker, but I am happy you have returned in such turbulent times."
After all those years being a simple brother, or later a... I wasn't quite sure what, this reverence bothered me more than it had ever before. I knew this was as my father had expected, but when had I changed?
"I will be returning to the palace and Seneschal before I meet with my cousin. This is my guard, Seneto..." I explained to the veteran, as we left the pier briskly. I was moving towards a good inn where I'd spent much time, before I'd been packed off. I hoped their memories of my behavior were poorer than mine.
The soldier slowed and said, "We can call for the royal guard, instead of this outsider."
I had to pause. Why was he...? Then I realized he is eyeing Seneto with disdain, looking down his nose at the sturdy dwarf.
Then I realized that he was disturbed by Seneto's race. I said, while trying to speak gently over dawning annoyance, "He has been a diligent and reliable aide during my journey. The Maker sees all His children as equal."
Seneto's face was impassive, though the officer only nodded. I wished suddenly for Varric's facility with clever words.
But the Maker did not see fit to grant me that talent.
There were new faces inside or maybe they were more politic, so I was not troubled by my immature actions. I was left alone in a fine private chamber to eat, as had once been common to me. The food was tasty, but... the room echoed. So I ate rapidly and collected Seneto and hurried to find the harbormaster. I needed a fast passage, and I was coming to think taking the road would be much faster.
That became more difficult as I did not have enough funds to buy quality horses, as most were on noble estates. I wasn't sure if I had any supporters. There were no fast boats going further upriver, so we would have to make do with borrowed steeds from the guard. I pushed both the horses and my uncomfortable aide, reaching Starkhaven itself rapidly.
- x -
At the city gate, I was recognized more quickly this time and we were afforded a full escort to the palace. Taken to a visitors' chamber to wash the dust away, I could not but contrast the cost of the furnishings with the sparseness of my quarters in the Chantry... the former Chantry. We did not need as much opulence here either.
I was escorted to the Council chamber, perhaps a good thing as I was not looking forward to seeing others using my parents' personal chambers.
Pausing, I saw only a few guards in the chamber, though I didn't want to know if there were more up behind the arrow slits overlooking the chamber. I was entering their central field of fire, and that made me edgy, though I kept myself still through long practice..
My cousin Goran was sitting in my father's place looking at a sprawling mess of papers and maps, and he looked solemn as did everyone else. There were five of them, dressed in more finery than I was now used to. I was in the armor my father had commissioned, very much a part of our traditional family armors.
"His Highness, Prince Sebastian," announced one of the guards.
I stepped in, feeling wary, like an intruder in my family's domain. I wondered if I was wise to return home like this. Aside from the very questionable information that had come from the Harrimans, I had heard nothing dark, but was my older cousin regent or usurper?
Goran looked up, and his face lit up in a seeming expression of delight, "Sebastian!" He came out from behind the table to embrace me, "Sweet Andraste, you're home."
Family. Why did I stay away? His hug was firm and he had tears in his eyes when we parted.
Family. Praise the Maker he survived. No matter the plotting around us, he'd always been kind to a foolish and arrogant young man.
Family. Who else amongst those people I'd fought with had had such a blessing of kinfolk? Losses and betrayals for all of them. How could I forget that blessing?
"The Maker has blessed His lost son, that I might find myself with family again," I said, feeling that my voice was unsteady as well.
Goran escorted me towards his seat, and he ordered a feast for me. His grin was open and wide enough to split his face.
The others present had more complex expressions. Only Cithol, obviously a Mother in the Chantry hierarchy now, was a familiar face from my youth. She was not smiling. One nobleman smiled, but two other nobles were more neutral.
Once my cousin had finished asking about my health and my journey, our conversation ground to a halt, like some arrow pinned it to the floor to die.
I needed to work on more uplifting analogies.
Mother Cithol said it. "Will you truly be forswearing your oaths to the Chantry, Brother?"
I could feel my voice cool more than it should when speaking to her. "The Maker has sent me a clear sign that I am to serve him for another purpose."
"Is this like your purpose in avenging your parents' deaths, instead of having faith in the Maker's will?" she asked steadily.
"Yes... No! How else is the Maker's wrath to fall on such as they?" I gritted through clenched teeth. "They are powerful and it will take someone with the skills and knowledge to root them out of their stronghold. This is as if the Magisters of old have burnt Andraste herself again right before my eyes! How could I not act? Will you fail to act?"
Goran was pale, looking horrified at our heated words.
Mother Cithol exchanged glances with the others and she admitted, "Of course I would act. But how long did you assist with rescue efforts, Sebastian? Or did you repeat your foolhardiness as after your family joined the Maker and swear bloody vengeance and hire bounty hunters?"
That reprimand drew blood, but I would not let these noble advisers and counselors see me bleed. Then I wondered at her knowledge. "How do you know of this?"
"Did you think your tantrum at the Chantry board was unnoticed, child? Did you think your family did not keep eyes on you and insist you be discreetly watched? You were always a target for assassins and escaped apostates and maleficar. Did they not attack you, trying to catch you away from the safety of Her hall?" the Mother chided again.
No. "No, I was not," I insisted. "None were hunting me. I was not at risk unless I was on a mission for some higher purpose."
Shaking her head, "That so-called Champion must have always been a troublemaker to take you into mortal peril, instead of respecting a brother of the faith and your safety. The only result was blood and death."
Remembering that a demon had seduced first the Harrimans and then destroyed most of my kin well before I'd even drawn up the announcement for the Chantry board, I was about to lambaste her when Goran interrupted us.
He introduced me to the other lords who helped him govern since my father's death. They were obviously a select group and used to speaking their mind. The lady and lord I didn't know were wealthy and arrogant. Reynord, of a long and prosperous noble line, was the only one who welcomed me. Lady Eladiss suggested that I should rest, with an elegant moue of distaste for my armor and possible travel dust. The last adviser was Hartovan, our senior general, once a bane of my younger self
The conversation faltered after the lady's comment, so I left. Marching towards my room, I discovered that it had been redecorated into a fine Orlesian style guest suite.
I spun, looking around as my guard remained in the hall with a cough after a quick scan. All my things, my trophies, and even favorite furniture I'd claimed for my personal use were gone. Entering further, the escape latch was still there, even if I did not trigger it. The room had not been painted recently, smelling only of wax, but I could not be sure how long it had been like this.
It was if I had never been here. It hadn't seemed long, but it was almost ten years since my family died, even more years since I had been sent away. How could time have passed so quickly without my noticing?
Girding myself, I rang for a bath now and for my steward in an hour, hoping the one who had served me personally was still in service. When he arrived and we had exchanged courtesies, I arranged to redeem my family ring with Seneto and learn my personal finances. I still had access to my own fortune, but most was invested so would take some time to dissolve. I had plenty for my own use but not as much as I'd hoped, after I'd spoke with my steward. Speaking with Seneto and others had revealed how much experienced mercenaries cost. I needed a core of good Starkhaven soldiers, firmer in their faith for my March on Kirkwall.
The feast went on in my honor that evening, but they didn't really need my actual attendance. Many of those I didn't know were drunk. I abstained for the most part as I was studying the Council and lesser nobility. True, some parents were quick to present their children as betrothal prospects, but I found the idea as distasteful as I had when approached a few times over the last years in Kirkwall.
While I would have to address that as my father's heir, it could wait. It would have to wait, as the women who... accosted me when they had been drinking were not interested in me as a brother in the Chantry, not even as a man. They wanted the wealth and power my position would give them.
I had dealt with so few of these opportunists since I left Starkhaven, I'd been slightly amused when others had avoided that part of family responsibility. Varric had even sold his family's estate, despite not needing the money after the expedition. Hawke had been seduced away from her responsibility as the Amell heir. The others didn't have that duty; I did and these... loose and tawdry women at the feast were not the gems of my people.
If I must turn aside from my oath, my wife must be above suspicion.
In the morning, I rose early, to find I was nearly the only one moving about aside from servants. It gave me the chance to visit the chapel.
A sister was preparing for a early morning service, despite a lack of household members attending. I felt a bit ashamed and I'd rarely attended when I lived here. I was usually too exhausted or hungover to stir this early, assuming I'd made it home at all.
The Maker had surely been watching over me for too many years.
Still I was sad, remembering my parents' custom to attend together. This was one of the few times of the day that they were permitted quiet time together. I had envied them, even as I'd been sowing my wild oats in those days.
But the chapel was now long empty of my parents and a scattering of those closer to them. My siblings had been virtuous and I suddenly missed knowing them as an adult, surely they were at the Maker's side. I closed my eyes, tamping down on my loneliness that I was the only one unworthy of His garden, twice over now.
My prayers as part of the service only granted me small comfort, but I mastered my emotions before the Sister finished. She seemed young, perhaps just out of her teens.
"Your Highness," she greeted me uncertainly.
"I am still a Brother, Sister. The Maker has blessed you with a lovely voice and sermon," I said to the nervous girl.
Still uneasy, she introduced herself, "I am sister Marsaili. Is there something I may assist you with, Ser?"
Remembering one facet of my discomfort as I'd traveled, I said, "I have been forced to travel of late, and I have lost my prayer books. Could I have one, perhaps?"
Her face brightening, "Of course, Ser. We have some extras, and you are more than welcome to select one."
She led me to a shelf and I selected one with fine illuminations for the prayers.
"Thank you. I have very much needed this comfort after... what happened in Kirkwall." I didn't know how long it would be until I could more easily mention the Grand Cleric, perhaps never..
"We heard, Ser. I am sorry for your grief," Marsaili said with a more mature compassion than her apparent age.
I felt better for a moment, that she had not used the statement about Elthina being at the Maker's side. I had used it myself, and had steeled myself to not get angry again at my loss when she said it.
She didn't, and my breath flowed out like an aging bellows, and I was calmer than I'd expected when the topic arose. Then I felt guilty for selfishly wanting the Grand Cleric's company longer and bit my lip.
The Sister changed the topic, nervous again, "I grew up here in the city, Ser. What is traveling like along the river? What are other cities like?"
Forcing a smile, I admitted, "I have not been to that many cities other than Starkhaven. The differences are not that large. There are palaces and markets and taverns in low districts in every city."
"Oh, I don't know the low districts, Ser. I grew up on Goldencourt Passage before I went to the Chantry," the young sister said with the smile of fond memories.
I knew Starkhaven streets well, but it had been a long time since my exile, and I asked, "Is that near the Silver Tankard?"
Her lovely smile stiffened, and I worried that something had happened to her, even in Starkhaven.
"My mother worked there, until she got a job working as a maid at the Chantry," she admitted in a stronger burr, her voice flatter.
That had been a favorite of mine, and I smiled for what felt like the first time in ages. Much of my allowance had gone into their coffers shortly before I'd been... Maker...
Air disappeared from my lungs and my stomach dropped out of me. My face felt cold and I felt light-headed. I looked at her, and tried to remember a detail a foolish boy wasn't as interested in remembering a month later. The young woman had strawberry blond hair instead of flaxen, and familiar bright blue eyes.
Dredging it from somewhere, I asked in a whisper, "Was her name Nola?"
Her curt nod was no surprise and I had to close my eyes at the answer to the puzzle I'd never noticed.
"I'm sorry, Marsaili. I will instruct my steward to meet with you..." My voice faded away and I wanted to laugh at how bloody efficient my parents had been.
I truly did not know what else to say to her. I was nearly forty and now the women at the banquet being younger than this Chantry Sister was disturbing. I think I blurted out another apology and an excuse about needing to pray and reflect.
Seneto had been on post at the back of the chapel and escorted me back to my room. There I'd opened the prayer book, and flipped through until I found one that caught my eye, despite the time of day.
Evening PrayerMerciful, gracious Maker!
Most heartily do I again give praise and thanks, that Thou hast during the whole period of my life taken thought for me and so bountifully protected me from all harm and danger of soul and body during this day, this week.
And I further pray Thee, that Thou would through Thy grace, blot out all my sins, which I have this day and through the whole week committed knowingly or unknowingly against Thee and my neighbor. Let them be forgotten by them and remembered by me for ever.
And help me graciously that I may pass from the old day into a new day, well-pleasing to Thee, Andraste, and to all those at your side.
If I not be commended to Thy side this night, that I may rest and sleep safely and arise again refreshed and in health further to praise Thee.
And when my last hour comes, take me to Thy side, for I am Thine, how gladly and willingly do I serve Thy will.
- x -
After a time, I felt calmer, even if I was no wiser.
A message arrived from the general, wishing my attendance to discuss my plans for the future. I had planned to arrive in the council chamber first after Chapel, but... My plans were all awry.
- x x -
A/N: This story is very much for reconciling Vael and his contradictions from canon. Thanks to my beta readers who have been kind enough to read this and point out stupid flubs. Any typos that remain are not intentional... Reviews or a PM to let me know what you think would be very appreciated.