I'd like to start out with giving credit for a certain phrase that Zevran has adopted for Nyra to LibraMoon, and their story Rumors. Nyra may not be the best example of a 'deadly sex goddess', but Zevran is a wee bit… erm, hormonal, yes?
I'd like to also state that I don't normally update so soon, nor do I update with such a long chapter, normally. I usually end up doing this when I'm on a roll, and I was on a big one earlier.
Unfortunately, the messengers didn't survive when they told me I didn't own Dragon Age. I cried a river and drowned them all.
"Zevran?" Cheryl asked as she confronted the Antivan elf.
"Hm?" He responded, apparently busy with mixing very bright yellow bottles of… something.
"Have you any leads yet?" she pressed, waving some of the hair out of her face. She had been searching long and hard for anything that could help.
It had been weeks since Nyra had disappeared, and no one had received word of her yet. No leads, no sightings, nothing had moved forward. Oghren had thought she might be somewhere in the deep roads for some reason, though Cheryl realized later he was too drunk to know they weren't talking about his ex wife. Sten had said he had heard nothing, and that he most likely wouldn't. It wasn't his role. Leliana had been gathering information off of the streets, and Wynne had sent a letter to the Tower asking for the templars aide. Using her phylactery might be the only option left, but they didn't want to use it unless it was absolutely dire.
Morrigan had simply run off the moment she heard. No one had heard from her since.
She herself had taken it upon herself to mingle with nobles and find out what she could about any going ons in the Bannorns and the various estates. Nothing had anything to do with mages, and she had spent three hours trying to convince Bann Teagan that she was most definitely not interested in marriage. Alistair had been unusually useless.
Her last resort was in front of her now, cursing as some of the substance in the bottle started to burn through the table.
"As of yet, no, no word of the lovely Nyra Amell. No one has seen her in any villages or encampments, the Dalish have been particularly useless, the dwarves haven't seen her, and we have yet to hear word from Red Cliffe. The bounty on her dropped when Loghain was killed, so no Crows are out to get her. She's proved her abilities as a deadly sex goddess, and they have no intention of testing that now." He reported, cleaning up his poisons and paying full attention to her. "However, I do have one theory as to where she may have gone."
"Oh?"
"I have seen this behavior before, in my… previous line of work. When an animal is severely injured, what does it do?" he questioned, folding his arms and scowling slightly. Cheryl thought about it for a second before replying.
"It normally crawls its way to home and waits to die." Her eyes widened at the implication. "But Nyra was fine!"
"No, no she was not. Something happened after the battle. That 'magic' was far too… unreal. It felt like the world was tearing itself apart, and I am neither mage nor templar. I shouldn't be able to feel those things. She was troubled for some reason, and though she may not have been hurt on the outside, she was not the same Nyra we all know and lust after." He shook his head. "I believe she has done as any injured creature would do. She has gone back to the only safe place she can think of."
"The Tower?" Cheryl asked, eyes rising in disbelief. She knew that Nyra felt the Tower wasn't her home anymore. She had stayed up at night sometimes to talk with her and Leliana about what home was like, and how she was somewhat glad to be gone. The Tower held a rigid and fearful tone at times, and she didn't have to worry about templars anymore. Why would she go back to them willingly?
"I believe so. The lovely Wynne had sent a letter asking for aide, no? Well, we should be receiving a response of whether she is there or not soon. If not, they will track her down. If so, we go, yes?" he flashed a wicked smile, and Cheryl felt an edge of hope.
"I hope you're right, Zevran. I hope you're right." She smiled sadly as she left to inform the others. Zevran's smile darkened into a scowl again as he took in her words.
"In truth, I would rather be wrong. If she left without word to anybody, to return to a place she didn't want to be in, in the first place? I cannot say that eases my heart for her to go back. If she did… then my gut tells me she has done so as many animals have before her." he murmured to himself, returning to his poisons and traps. He had some preparing to do if all should fail.
~*.*~
Morrigan was most displeased.
She had been traveling around in the guise of a wolf for days, though she had little grasp on time in the form. She was tracking Nyra's scent from Denerim through the roads, eventually ending up on top of the crumbling remains of Lothering. When her wolf form grew too tense to continue, she flashed back to her human one.
The city had been tainted all over with a darkspawn massacre. Bodies and burnt remains were littering the streets, and the Chantry seemed to have been burnt down a second time, recently. As she walked through the desecrated corpse of the town, she felt an unease of magic around her.
"'Tis foolishness." She murmured, shaking it off as she continued to follow the trail. It was all too obvious that Nyra had come here to vent off some of her rage, though from what, Morrigan could not tell. There were lightning strikes and burned down bushes, roots coming from the ground and entangling bones of the tainted creatures. A few Bereskarn corpses were still rotting, pierced through by Nyra's unique form of magic. Lyrium Crystals.
Morrigan took out her staff, should she be surprised by any stragglers, but all was far too quite in the forest. The taint was strong the farther in she got, until she came fully upon the Wilds. She knew these trees well, and she could sense something dark and powerful in the ground beneath her.
But there were still only bodies littering the earth around her. nothing had escaped her wrath.
"What rage drove you in there, sister?" Morrigan wondered, leaning down and examining a burned husk of a Hurlock. Or, what she thought was a Hurlock. It was too disfigured to tell, even for a darkspawn.
The Witch of the Wilds braced herself before running swiftly through the tunnels, staying alert for traps and ambushes. However, everywhere she had expected one to be placed, there were already broken traps and a large pile of bodies in the corner. All of them darkspawn. She knew her friend had power, but to be able to take down so many alone? This was starting to bite at her mind in a worrying way. She walked on, no longer fearing an encounter but still keeping wary.
She nearly gasped as she encountered the main chamber. The entire place rivaled the size of Orzamar, with a large, Glowing thing in the middle. She dropped down to investigate further, but what slipped beneath her feet brought her attention to something else.
There were dozens of layers of darkspawn beneath her feet, and they were covered with a thick film of see though lyrium, as if it had been water poured in from the ceiling and frozen forever in small waves.
She gasped as her body reacted to the tainted air, mixed with lyrium dust so thick that it felt like she was swallowing it. She took a rag over her face and, finding it useless, felt it better to turn into something else. She transformed into a spider, immune to the lyrium and taint around her, and picked her way carefully over the legion of crystal covered corpses. The darkspawn all seemed to be facing one direction, running to protect something…
She felt her body return to her as she gazed at the thing they were trying to protect. And died trying.
The broodmother looked like it was killed exactly like the Archdemon was. Its body was impaled by so many lyrium crystals that it just turned into a large piece of tainted lyrium, dark purple and vibrating a dark light. The hatchery below it, as she examined, was glowing bright blue, covered in the same lyrium coating that she was standing on. Nyra had spared nothing to chance.
"This much magic should have killed her." she gasped, and though it was new to her, she did not hate the feeling of devotion. She merely hated the feeling that all was lost.
She looked around more carefully, trying to find anything that might give a clue to where she was, when she found a strange trail of… something tickling her nose. Despite her bodies protest, she once again resumed the form of a wolf, shutting down on its instincts and forcing it to recognize the scent. Even under all the lyrium, Nyra's scent remained, faint yes, but still remained.
She followed it to the surface again, to the obliterated Chantry, and then followed it along the road to a path she… she recognized. She changed back again to her human form and collapsed from the exertion her body had gone through the past few days. She pulled a lyrium potion from her pack and a small piece of bread, downing both quickly before getting back up.
She knew where Nyra had gone.
"Oh, why do you go back to the cage you had been free of for so long?" she moaned darkly, walking forward nevertheless.
Apostate or no, she would have to charge the Tower to see if Nyra was alright.
~*.*~
Cullen was angry.
It had been three days, and she still hadn't woken up. She had decided to stay still and perfect for three days straight, and it was driving him up the wall. Questions left unanswered raged through his head constantly, worry over why she had been driven here, irritation that temptation was back in his life. Anger at her not being able to answer him, sorrow that she was too ill at health to be able to respond. Things he shouldn't have the right to think or feel swelled into him, and had driven him to watch over her for the entire three days.
Sleep wasn't as important as this. And the recruit brought food for him after it was clear he was not leaving his post. Greagoir had come by once to ask why he wasn't leaving, and Cullen had responded with an agreeable answer.
"She saved my life. It is my duty to watch over her now."
That was the answer he gave everyone, and they all took it at face value. Well, all but Irving. Irving had been about to say something after the knight had told him that, but then the First Enchanter had gotten a look in his eyes that said 'not only do I not believe you, but I know the real reason why you watch over her'. It had briefly unnerved him, but he let it go when Nyra had stirred a little. She hadn't gotten up or awoken, but still, she had moved.
But she hasn't moved since.
They had received a letter from Denerim only days ago, requesting the use of Nyra's phylactery, stating that she might have been kidnapped and the search for her had gone in vain. Apparently, she hadn't left a note or shown a trace of where she was going, and the manner in which she left the estate was as if she had been, or someone had attempted a kidnap. Yet here she was, healthy and yet comatose. They had sent a reply stating she was already here, and there was no need for it. They had dispatched the message with 'all due haste', and hopefully would be hearing back from Denerim within a week or more, possibly even receiving some of her friends or allies.
She looked beautiful as ever, but her body had undergone a slight change, day by day. Her once starlight hair had turned into a silver color not like that of age, but that of armor and swords, cutting through the space it occupied. Where it used to be only long enough to grace her shoulders, it now cascaded down her back in a waterfall of metallic beauty. Her eyes had been open when they set her down in the bed, and when she had closed them, a single tear had escaped her. Cullen had been choked up to realize her once sparkling eyes had turned silver as well, not even a trace of the violet stars remained behind to glimmer under the veil.
She was the same height, the same figure. She might have been a tad bit smaller, overall, but to him she hadn't changed. Her delicate nose, her feather light eyelashes, her heart shaped face and her soft, silent lips were ever graceful, even more so when sleeping. But he wanted her to wake up, to smile, to show that something was alright. If it wasn't, he wanted her to tell him, so he could do something, anything to make it better.
He was so frustrated. But he knew his face betrayed nothing.
He pondered his questions while he stood watch, always vigilant. Why had she come to the Tower in the state she was in? What had hurt so much? Why couldn't Mage Anders heal her? Why did she have to come back? Why did she torment him with such desires? Why was she so beautiful? Why was she so soft a person? Why did she come back? What had made her transform into this destroyed person? What had turned her hair and eyes silver? What about Love? Did she have something to do with all this? Was she dead? Was she dying?
Was Nyra dying?
He shook his head, the only outward sign of his struggles, and he banished his thoughts. He focused on his discipline, his training, to keep his mind clear of anything but her face. After he had seen her throughout the Tower years ago, him sixteen and her fourteen, he had used her face to focus on, to rely upon when he needed control and calm. She had never failed him, and she didn't even know how important she was to him. In this respect, that is.
"Maker, please, for once, hear us and wake her up!" he muttered under his breath, sighing and finally noticing the tray that had been left at the table to his side. He must have been too absorbed in his thoughts to notice when they brought it in.
He grabbed the bread and started to tear into it when he heard a slight cough from below him. A dainty little thing, barely noticeable had he not been waiting for something of the like for days. He dropped the bread and gazed steadily at Nyra for a moment. She was definitely moving, squirming around stiffly and coughing dryly. He took the mug of water they had left him and came forward, waiting for her to open her eyes. When she did, they were shining with a strange light, a metallic silver sheen shooting through them. They widened in recognition before squeezing shut in another bout of coughs. Cullen tilted her back up for support and brought the cup to her lips, which she took shakily and started to sip. As her coughing slowed to a stop and she took in a few shaky breaths, she opened her eyes again and looked around the room.
"Well… this isn't the apprentice quarters." She smiled sadly, looking around and sighing softly. She looked back at Cullen, who was regarding her with a guarded expression. "What is it?"
He found it hard to speak at first, finding no way to put everything that had happened, or all the questions, into a short explanation.
"You… you came to the Tower half dead. Do you not remember any of it?" he asked incredulously, searching her eyes for something, anything to hint at a sinister presence. He found nothing but pain, which answered so many questions and yet presented too many at the same time.
"I… I remember." She shut her mouth into a thin line, gazing down at her hands. Some of her hair fell out of place as she did so, falling before her and into her hands. She gasped, running it through her fingers and pulling more forward, seeming to… examine it? "What happened to my hair?"
"I don't know how it changed color." He admitted, stepping back some and giving her space. She threw the covers off, dashing to the vanity stand in the corner. She stopped, however, halfway to it and looked down. She was in Circle Robes again, the normal kind, and they moved a little differently then she had grown accustomed to.
"Someone changed me?" she asked, a bit of steel in her voice.
"One of the Enchanters, Aria, and he apprentice, Caroline. They helped get the… darkspawn off of you." He coughed a bit in memory, and at the slight indication of her state at that point. She grimaced, delicately biting her lower lip.
"Of course… I forgot that everyone here was at risk… I'm so sorry!" she shook her head. "But, i… I don't know how this all-,"
He had looked away to give her a moment, and at her gasp he flicked his attention back to her, staring in horror at the mirror before her, hands grazing over her face and… her eyes.
"What happened to my eyes?" she cried, leaning in and blinking, a lone tear falling onto the wood beneath her. She sobbed once before shaking her head and backing away from it slowly. Cullen stood, warily, waiting for the storm to be unleashed. She was already going through shock, and if she became any more vulnerable, she could-
"Miss! You're awake!" a templar recruit interrupted, nearly dropping his tray of… food? Had Cullen really left the previous one alone for that long? He only had a second to think that before Nyra gasped from surprise and fell to the floor, holding her chest.
"Are you alright?" he asked immediately, rushing to her and helping her up. She glanced up at him, her own face guarded, before she answered.
"No… I'm not. I need to speak with First Enchanter Irving. Immediately." As she said so, her face set into a cold mask, her eyes as still and chilled as actual steel. She busied herself with dusting off her new robes and fixing her hair, and she glanced back at the recruit. "Well?"
"Um…." He stammered, looking around with confusion. This only seemed to anger her.
"If you aren't going to go get him, then I'll find him myself." She snapped, rushing past him. "Move!"
And with that, the templars were left stunned and looking slightly foolish. Cullen waved off the recruit apologies and told him to get back to work as he caught up with the now furious mage. Her temper was radiating from her in waves of chilled air, literally bringing down the temperature around her. Cullen shivered in his armor as it hit him, growing ever the more wary as it intensified. Her face was absolutely livid and her mouth was set into a sharp, flat line. He put a hand on her shoulder to stop her, only to have her whirl around viciously.
"What?" she barked, sending another wave of chill towards him. He shook it off and frowned, dispelling the magic in the area.
"Mage Amell, you would do well to remember yourself." He said evenly, giving her a meaningful look. She paused, glanced around and felt the air between her fingers, still cold from her spell of anger, and she sighed.
"I apologize. I'm… not at my best right now." She grimaced, taking a deep breath and centering herself. She looked back up at him with a somewhat forced smile on her face, eyes a little too hard. "Shall we start over? May you please escort me to First Enchanter Irving?"
Though he didn't like the way she had to make it appear instead of it naturally coming to her, he accepted her smile and gave a nod. "Of course. This way, please." And with that, they were off to Irving's office. However, before they could open the door, they had passed Greagoir's open office and he came rushing out, staring wildly at Nyra and the sudden change in her hair color and eyes. Nyra regarded him respectfully, giving a small nod and curtsy.
"Knight Commander Greagoir. It's been a while." She said, somewhat uneasily as he gazed at her with scrutiny.
"Yes, but perhaps not long enough. What brings you to the Tower again? We thought you would never return, now that you're a Grey Warden. And after killing the Archdemon? Everyone in Ferelden is in your debt." He commented, crossing his arms and frowning.
"Yes, well, I came here hoping to discuss certain… matters with Irving. I'll be doing that in a moment, actually, and it's rather dire that I-," she explained, but Greagoir cut her off with a hand.
"But of course, we shouldn't keep you waiting. Come, we'd love to hear what brought you here in such a state of distress. We will help however we can." He assured her, no room to negotiate in his voice. Her carefully composed face held only a slight trace of annoyance, though Cullen maybe have been the only one to notice it. He had been studying her face for the past three days… maybe too much, it would seem.
"Oh, that's not necessary. This happens to be a magical matter, nothing a templar need get themselves concerned with." She smiled, white teeth flashing up at the Commander. Greagoir smirked right back, gesturing her forward.
"But of course, anything to do with mages concerns the Templars, my dear. Now, if you would please, this urgent matter must be addressed, no? Let us see the First Enchanter." And with that, a note of finality ended all argument as the door opened and he ushered both Nyra and Cullen into the room.
Irving was facing away from them, rearranging books on the back shelf and organizing certain papers into empty ones, to be recorded and put away later. His desk was covered in notices, requests, letters, and various other things. As he turned around to greet them, he froze at the sight of Nyra, awake and somewhat changed from when he had seen her last. Cullen felt her relax almost instantly before she launched herself across the room, embracing him like a long lost father.
"Irving!" she cried, laughing slightly as he chuckled with her, giving her a firm squeeze back before pulling away and looking her over.
"Why child, you have changed. It is so good to see you again." He exclaimed, standing back and looking over to Greagoir and Cullen. "And I see young Cullen is here, ever the vigilant guard, no? But why are you here, Greagoir?"
"Oh, I'm simply here to listen. Apparently, there is an urgent matter that must be discussed with you, something rather important to arrive to the Tower in such a state as she did. I'm rather curious as to what would be so important." Greagoir nodded at her, somewhat mocking in his attitude. She scowled slightly before turning back to Irving, biting her lip.
"Child, what is it?" he asked, casting an annoyed glance at the templars before returning his attentions to her. Cullen felt uncomfortable intruding upon their conversation, but Greagoir himself had insisted. There was nothing to be done about that.
"Well…" she looked back at her audience, suddenly uncomfortable and, after a few seconds without success, she turned to them with another forced smile on her face. "I really don't believe that this is a matter the templars need concern themselves with, gentlemen."
"Oh, but it is. Whatever business the mages have in the circle is something that the templars should know of. I would hate to have been misinformed by others." Greagoir responded, smiling at her. However, Cullen noticed she was losing her patience. The air grew chill again, and Irving shot her a look of incredulity. She dropped the smile and glared at the Commander.
"Enough with the pleasantries, then. As the leader of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden, my business here is with the Circle of Magi, and only with the Circle of Magi. Not the Chantry. You have overstepped your bounds, Ser Greagoir, and I demand that you leave at once. This is a matter of great importance that cannot be discussed with any but mages, and if you insist upon being here, than make the decision under your own peril. I will show no mercy should you disobey this direct ORDER." She said with absolute command in her voice, a voice she would never have even known to use before she left the Tower.
Greagoir seemed taken aback, and then he became angry. "You will listen here, mage, and listen well. You have no-,"
"I have every right to conduct business with or without anyone I wish. And you will listen here, templar. I do not come back here as a mage. I came back here as a Grey Warden. I came back here as the one who slayed the Archdemon. I came back here, Ser Knight, as the one who ended the Blight. Not as a mage." She glared at him, and the energy in the air started to crackle. Greagoir rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, but she shook her head in disgust. "And yet, despite coming here as these things, here you stand, seeing me still as only a mage. A threat. Listen closely, then, Ser. I came here on a matter of great importance. You are getting in the way of it. That makes you a threat in my eyes. And you are no longer the same kind of threat you may have once been."
"Oh? And what kind of threat am I?" he asked sarcastically as he crossed his arms, tense but aware drawing his sword would do no good. Nyra simply smiled again, this time dangerously.
"Did you know Archdemons can dispel magic just as easily as Templars?" she asked innocently, folding her hands together in front of her. Greagoir's eyes widened, but he shook his head. She smiled even wider. "Well, it tried to dispel my magic. Look what happened to it."
Greagoir paled at the implication, and Cullen froze in his spot. She had basically told them that, if she so desired it, she could get through their templar abilities and ignore them. A mage like that was a hazard to them all.
"Mind you, it would take quite a bit out of me, but I would be happy to oblige should you think yourself ready to fight me on a simple matter of discussing my health with Irving. Simple, yet very important. If you would be so kind as to-," she stopped suddenly, clutching her breast and gasping, falling to the floor and choking for air. Irving came forward immediately, opening her airways with magic and allowing her to breath, though she was in obvious pain. The incident was so sudden that Greagoir didn't seem to take it all in until she was gasping, her fit over and her eyes watering.
"I am to assume that whatever that was, it is what you must discuss?" Greagoir asked, this time humbled, and Nyra simply nodded her teary head. Greagoir sighed, shaking his own. "May I, instead of demanding, ask if I may listen?"
"Yes. I didn't want you to barge in. I simply wanted only those who would care to hear it." She said, her voice suddenly smaller. Cullen compared her now to what she was merely minutes ago, and then it all clicked. She could put up a front of leadership and dominion when she needed, but at the end of the day she was still shy Nyra.
"Of course. My apologies… but I am curious as to the situation." He stood at attention, and Irving helped her into the chair to the side of his desk. Cullen automatically took up his position behind her, and they all looked over to him. He looked back with mild surprise.
"What?" he asked, squirming a little under their steady gazes. Greagoir's gaze seemed to scrutinize his every breath, and Irvings seemed to have a hidden smirk underneath. Nyra herself seemed… thankful?
"And why are you standing behind me, Ser Cullen?" she asked, soft voice the gentle tone he was used to. He smiled on the inside, but kept his face stoic on the outside.
"I am fulfilling my duty." He replied, bowing his head.
"Yes. I had discussed this with him earlier. Should you remain here, we would like to assign Ser Cullen to be your guard." Greagoir supplied, nearly shocking everyone in the room. Including Cullen himself.
"What? I was not made aware of this!" Irving replied indignantly. Greagoir shrugged his shoulders.
"I was planning on telling you when she awoke, and, should she decide that it not be for the best, then he may be removed. However, I would strongly advise it, Mage Amell. Should there be an incident, or should you be unable to defend yourself or get help, Ser Cullen may act accordingly and aide you." Greagoir reasoned, keeping Nyra's eyes. She actually nodded and smiled gracefully.
"Though I am… reluctant to be considered disabled, having a guard might… fill the unease I have on some accounts. I appreciate it. And Cullen?" He looked down at her, still mildly shocked from his sudden assignment.
"Yes?" he breathed out, and though he knew that Nyra and Greagoir wouldn't hear it the way it came out, Irving certainly would. The First Enchanter's eyes tightened, his smile widened.
"I am glad to have someone so capable to escort me. It is an honor." She smiled. "Maybe something good could come out of this for the relationships between mages and templars, no? I hope we could achieve a more equal understanding."
"Of course…." He paused. She cocked her head as he tried to find the words, and when he couldn't, he asked, "Well, what may I…?"
"Call me?" she laughed. He nodded, slightly uncomfortable, and she smiled again. "I'd like it if I could call you Ser Cullen, and you call me Nyra. My first name will do."
"Of course, Miss Nyra." He added the Miss because somehow, just calling her Nyra seemed wrong. Greagoir nodded his approval and Irving scowled a little.
"Back to the matter at hand, child, tell us what is wrong. We shall aide you however we can." Irving pressed, diverting her attention back onto what they had come to discuss.
"Of course…. Where to begin?" she paused, seeming to collect her thoughts. When she had had a moment, she finally started to speak again. "Whatever is said in this room will not leave it without my permission, is this understood gentlemen? What is about to be said is something unknown to many, and only the Wardens and the Chantry have real knowledge of what I am about to speak of. Even those two groups only know a part of it all, the rest they are oblivious to." She got the oath of both the templars and the First Enchanter, and she continued. "Well, I killed the Archdemon with Love's power. Love had told me that… that was the only way to survive the final blow. When a normal person kills the archdemon, it will just possess and transform another body and keep alive. It, being soulless, can go to other soulless creatures and do this. However, when a Grey Warden strikes the final blow, they absorb the creature into themselves, effectively disabling their ability to reincarnate. However, it kills the Warden who delivers it, sending both the Archdemon and the Warden to the Maker.
"Love told me that, with all the power I had with her, we could kill the Archdemon without anyone dying. It was a risk, yes, but I was more likely to survive than anyone else. Alistair…. He had wanted to commit to the kill, but before he could, I interfered. I used a spell from the Fade, a spell long forgotten to most but the oldest of the Fade Children, or benevolent spirits, and I used much of my own and Love's energy. I was able to create raw lyrium… well, you know I automatically do it, though I still don't know how. But I created shards of it, and with those shards, I took a piece of the Archdemon away, blow by blow. Eventually, there was nothing left but life force and lyrium, turned violet by the taint.
"I felt so drained after the battle that… well, I felt like I was dying. Love had just drifted off to some part of my mind that I couldn't even reach, until the past few days occurred. I'll get to that in a moment." She inserted as Greagoir's eyes sparkled with interest. He nodded and she continued on. "I had won, though, and everyone was so happy that I had…. Except for Alistair… he was convinced I had done some form of blood magic to perform a spell of that magnitude, but I hadn't. Love would have killed me instantly if I had tried. So, after a while, I noticed that Love's absence was… leaving holes in me. I felt hollow and my energy never really came back. My magic was still at its peak, but my body couldn't keep up. I felt sick, and… you may have noticed several recent changes to my appearance. Those were not there when I left Denerim.
"Love was just gone. I didn't know how to handle it, and eventually… well, Alistair and I had an argument. I… I left to find someplace I might feel welcome, and I just felt dead… afterwards. I didn't know where I was going, but I eventually ended up in Lothering. The place was overrun with darkspawn that had made a nest in the wilds. I killed every single one I found, and I hunted the smaller hordes that got away from me. That, for a time, left me satisfied that I wasn't useless. I'm a Grey Warden; I battle darkspawn as a job. So, I hunted and tracked them down to their lair, found thousands inside the cave dwelling, and I... I used the same power that I used to kill the Archdemon, but on a slightly larger scale.
"There was a broodmother there, a Hurlock hatchery in the deep. I killed her first, and after that, everything seemed a blur. I covered the entire thing in liquid lyrium, which should have solidified into a huge crystalline reservoir by now… keep that in mind for later." She advised Irving, who took down a note at his desk. "and after that, I burned what was left of Lothering to the ground and headed… here. I didn't mean to end up here, but this is where my heart took me, so I followed it. I forgot that I had killed thousands of darkspawn and was covered in their gore… else I might have washed it off, but I was far too delirious to even care. Bahamut was scared I would get possessed, but for some reason the demons stayed away. I didn't even feel a flicker of one, and I thought I was vulnerable. Maybe… maybe I was too dangerous at that point to possess? Well, I got here, and, the rest you know. You found me, I was dying, you cleaned me up and gave me shelter, which I am thankful for, and then I slept for… how long?"
"Three days. Cullen stood watch over you the entire time, refusing to neither leave nor rest." Irving remarked, glancing up at the young templar. He might have blushed had he not been keep his face in check. Nyra glanced up at him slowly, something glimmering in her silvery eyes.
"Thank you." She said, smiling serenely. He put an iron clamp on his face and felt his insides melt. This is going to be an absolute pain in the NECK. He thought, nodding at her with a great deal of control. She continued with a small smile on her lips. "Well, I was in the Fade the entire time, speaking with Love. It didn't seem as long as three days, but we had much to discuss… apparently, she was cast out of my body when I killed the Archdemon, and soon I will need to go through something similar to the Harrowing in order to bond with her again. It…. She told me that the entire experience will be different, and that I will remember nothing of what I see. It has something to do with 'knowledge I cannot attain yet', or something of the like."
"Knowledge?" Irving questioned.
"She… she said she made an error when she met me, an error she apologized heavy for, but she never actually mentioned what she did wrong. She said that some things she knows, I cannot. No Human, Elf, Dwarf nor Qunari have the right to know the future. We are not the Maker, and we should not think ourselves Gods. That is basically what it comes down to. She and I need to get back together or…." She grew silent and left the sentence hanging, letting an unease go through the men.
"Or?" Greagoir pushed.
"Or I'll die. Unpleasantly, I might add. My body will slowly become lyrium… over the course of several weeks. Piece by piece." She described, holding her arm to her chest lightly. "I can already feel the process bginning. If I become encased, it will either kill me or… turn me into the worst of abominations. One that can't be stopped?"
"Lovely." Cullen sighed, shaking his head. She looked back with sharp eyes.
"I would rather not be a statue, but I really wouldn't want to be an abomination. And I would like to stay alive, if possible." She commented dryly.
"What do you require?" Irving asked, taking out a sheet of parchemtn and marking the top 'Materials for Harrowing: Nyra 2nd'.
"I will need a couple of the large shards I created outside… and I'll take those down after I'm bonded again with Love." She added. "I'll need I'll need a little Elf root, Bergamot, Silverite, Dragons blood, which I have in my pack, actually. A drake scale, which I have several in my pack, and then a rather peculiar ingredient. I will need an Essence of Taint." She winced. Irving looked up sharply and scrutinized her, and Greagoir looked on suspisciously.
"Why would you need that particular ingredient, Nyra?" Irving demanded. She sighed.
"Because if Love and I bond normally, we'll die sooner than normal, even for a Grey Warden. If we have that, I'll be able to rid myself of the taint that all Grey Wardens possess. Again, you will not speak a word of this to others, is that clear?" she sighed tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Love will actually die if we don't have that ingredient. If we add it, even if I die, she will be able to live on in the Fade. I'd rather that happen, if you please."
"It will take a week to make it. The other ingredients are already in the Tower. The details of the arrangement?" he started a new sheet, and Cullen felt odd. Details?
"Place five large shards, points outward, in a star fashion around the altar. Add a prepared amount of lyrium to the font, like always, and then add the mixture to that. The mixture consists of…" and she started to list the steps, reciting them almost, of how to make the mixture. After that, she told him what to do with the essence. "After I am under, you must pour the essence onto the lyrium font and hope that she and I are bonded before the taint kills us. Think of this like another Harrowing. Should I fail, and if I rise up looking mottled and particularly dead, then please, by all means, strike me down."
Cullen felt a flair of anger as she said it so casually, and he dismissed it after a little tremor went through her body and she gasped slightly.
"I'm okay." She said as the men started to help her. "It happens occasionally, not a big deal. I just need to focus on other things and forget about all this until it needs to be done. If all goes well, this will have been just a bad month. If it goes bad, well, this is my last week to live. I'd like to live it normally."
"Of course. You're technically free, but…." Irving started, and Greagoir nodded as he got it.
"It might be best for you to stay here, where we can monitor and heal you, should something happen within the next week."
"Thank you. Now, I would like to go eat and then take care of some… needs, if you will. I'll be in my room when I'm done." She got up and bid them farewell, but as Cullen was following her, Greagoir called out for them to stop.
"Wait. May I speak with Cullen for a moment, Warden?" he asked, grasping the younger templars arm lightly. She turned back and nodded.
"I'll be in my rooms when you're done." And with that, she left.
"Come with me to my office." He muttered, leaving Irving behind him, smirking. The First Enchanter must have known what was going on.
"Ser, if I might ask-," he tried to speak, but Greagoir interrupted him before he could finish. They barged into his office, and the Commander slammed the door shut. He looked frantic, more panicked then when the Tower had gone under attack.
"This is not what I had had in mind a few days ago, but it will suffice." He shook his head to clear it, and Cullen saw the familiar mask that templars wore slip into place. It was a mask to keep all thoughts and emotion out of their face while they did… what must be done. But Greagoirs mask kept falling off at different intervals… he was slowly losing control. "You will guard her. She is most definitely dangerous, but… no, Nyra isn't reckless. She wouldn't just attack without warning… no… damn it, where is it?" he muttered, seeming to half talk to himself and Cullen at the same time. He searched through the papers on his desk and brought out a letter with the Chantry Seal on it. "I had planned on giving you guard duty to one of the normal Enchanters, to help you through your rough spell, but you are needed with her more than that. Do you understand?"
"I understand that I am to watch her, Ser, but I understand little else at the moment." Cullen frowned, waiting for more. Greagoir groaned into his hands and tossed the letter back on the desk.
"If she dies, especially here at the Circle, do you know what will happen? The entire country will be demanding our heads on a pike and demand that the Chantry releases the mages! Nyra has always been one to charm people into thinking differently about things, and I know from dozens of reports that people are simply not sending their mage children to us. They're purposefully keeping them secret, moving around and away in order to avoid us. Her travels have brought about the idea that the Circle isn't necessary, that Templars don't have to keep the Tower in check!" he barked, pacing behind his desk. "We need something, anything to soothe them, or the Chantry will be facing a very large exodus of its people. I don't know exactly how she did it, but Nyra has riled up a topic best left untouched. One of the few solutions is to show how, if not necessary, good templars can be for the mages. She trusts you and, for some reason, holds a high opinion of you. You are to be her guard and, if the opportunity presents itself…"
Greagoir fell silent for a moment, paling and closing his eyes. He murmured a prayer to the maker and started to take deep breaths. Cullen felt his stomach start to quell under the pressure of not knowing.
"If the opportunity presents itself, Ser?"
Greagoir looked him straight in the eyes and said the last thing Cullen had ever, ever expected to hear out of a templars mouth.
"If the opportunity should arise, become her companion."
~*.*~
Nyra felt rushed.
She went to the dining room, having found that she was refused at the apprentice's table {"No, you're the Hero of Ferelden! You eat with the Enchanters!"}. She had only been once, and after that she had been conscripted. She had to eat quickly and then go back to her room. She needed time to-
"Miss Amell!"
Crap, what now? She thought as she winced and turned around, smile painted onto her face.
She was presented with a rather measly looking fellow, elven and shorter than most. His brown hair was kept back in a ponytail, and he carried a few books in his arms. She regarded him kindly, and stepped forward.
"Hello, mister…?" she extended her hand to him, and he eagerly shook it.
"Oh, my name is Fathos. I don't actually know my last name, so… yeah. Hehe." He smiled, still shaking her hand. She smiled back, though she wished he would stop shaking so hard. Almost reading her mind, he looked down and immediately pulled back, his cheeks blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… ah, um, I mean…"
"Is there something you needed, friend?" she asked, still kind and curious. He swallowed hard, and he opened his book and rifled to a certain page.
"Um… I'm really, really very sorry to bother you, but, uh, I was wondering if you had ever cast a successful Repulsion Glyph? No matter how hard I try, I can never do it without hurting myself… and no one else in the Tower sees a need for one…." He seemed to cower as he lost his confidence, shuffling around and looking like a lost puppy. Oh god, why do they have to go and be so adorably shy?
"Of course I can help you. I'm assuming you're focusing on the Creation school?" she asked, smiling wider when his own face brightened considerably.
"Oh, yes ma'am! And thank you! I've always had a knack for healing, but, well, I never got anything in the school but healing. I have the Protection Glyph right, but I've been practicing this one for weeks, and nothings good has come out of it…" she beckoned him back to the training room, listening to his struggles with the spell. She herself had faced similar struggles, but she found out the best way to perform it.
"Here, with the Repulsion Glyph, you want to focus on the point in front of what you're repulsing. Cast it on that point, or even a little before what is coming at you, and then-," she drew her mana forward and launched a Glyph onto the floor. "You throw it out there and worry about healing your allies."
"Wow! I can't believe you've actually used it in real combat!" he clapped. "Well, actually, you are the Hero of Ferelden, and a Grey Warden, so it shouldn't be that hard to believe… but thank you so much!"
"Of course! Oh, and don't walk over the Glyph until after it disappears. I've made that mistake too." She laughed, waving at him as she left. He immediately began writing something down on his notes, and she waited by the door to see if he could cast one yet. He had the right idea, but he lacked the proper mana control to send it away from him. She sighed wistfully and came back, smiling again.
"Here, lets practice together, alright?"
She felt a swell of pride when she couldn't think of a happier face in the world.
She was sitting at the Enchanters table now, eating with the rest of the teachers and mages, and she felt something she had missed somewhat on her adventures.
With Morrigan, she had found an unusual and yet exciting friend, someone unlike those in the Circle to connect to. Morrigan taught her the ways of the Wilds, teaching her how to change her shape and to become different animals. She taught Nyra how to stand up for herself as well, and in turn, Nyra gave her something that she had apparently never had before.
Someone who cared deeply for her.
When Morrigan had told her the story of the little girl and the mirror, Nyra had felt like crying. Morrigan had, at some point, just wanted to be a little girl with pretty things. Flemeth had taken that away from her, and never given her real love to nurture on. Nyra made the extra effort to withstand her barbs and sarcastic jokes in order to get closer to her, and when she had, she had cracked through to an entirely new person. The little Morrigan that had been so fascinated by the glittering mirror.
Nyra and Morrigan, after that discovery of friendship, had been near inseparable. Alistair… he hadn't approved, but Nyra insisted that he never would know the real Morrigan, so he shouldn't judge. He left it alone. Morrigan would still tease the other companions, but when she teased Nyra, it had been like a big sister teasing her little sister, meaning nothing by it but to have fun. Nyra gave her someone to confide in and talk to, and eventually, Morrigan had moved her hovel from the edge of the camp to a little ways closer to Nyra's tent. They even stayed up together at some point to play with each other's hair, which Morrigan had said was absolutely stupid at first….
But Nyra had seen the glimmer of happiness in her eyes.
Nyra had made a true friend with Morrigan, despite all the odds.
Wynne had turned into a Motherly figure, guiding her along a right and moral path when she needed it. They weren't close, no, but they understood each other from years spent in the Circle. Wynne had made a bit of home appear on the roads, bringing with her a bit of the Tower she sometimes longed to go back to.
But here? She felt like she was with her people. She knew they thought of her as a great Hero, but they put that aside when they got into their discussions on the best method to train their pupils, or how the proper way to mix an elf root potion was. She felt normal.
"No, no, no! That is not the way to cast a Tempest! No, Nyra, tell him how it's done. The simpleton won't listen to reason." One of the Enchanters, Tallin, insisted. Nyra knew Tallin to be in the Primal school, and the mage she was arguing with, Andros, to be in the Entropy school. She smiled lightly.
"To cast a Tempest, sometimes an indirect method is best. First, use your mana to lower the pressure of the air above you. Then, gather electrical particles around that area, combining them with water particles. After you have gathered enough, put the pressure to use and compress them together, forming a cloud-," she was explaining, but he interrupted her.
"You don't need all that, though! You can simply collect the water particles and shoot lightning from your own hand through them to create a tempest!" he argued angrily. She smiled back, maybe a bit thinner than before, but corrected him.
"Yes, but if you do that, you won't kill your enemies. You'll briefly shock them and, if you luckily hit them again, maybe you'll knock them unconscious. If you're in a real battle, you have a group of soldiers of some sort around you to protect you as you cast the steps, and then you create a cloud for control, power, and precision. Otherwise, you'll only end up hurting yourself, others, and barely putting a dent in your foes. Your method works to stun, but the correct method is the one that has absolute results, is that not correct?" she reasoned, and everyone around the table was nodding. Instead of looking indignant, he actually seemed interested.
"Do the same rules apply for a Blizzard?" he asked, going back to eating. The major part of the argument was over, and everyone was eating again, now just sharing their knowledge. She smiled widely.
"The general rules apply, but you don't need electrical particles. Just lower the temperature in the water and add a little wind." And with that, everyone agreed and moved onto herbalism.
It was another two hours before she got back to her room, but she found she was near exhausted. She closed the door behind her {she was lucky enough to be gifted with one}, and she moved to the vanity in the corner.
She looked nothing like her old self. Her face was the same, but the spirit underneath was changed. Her hair, her starlight hair, had darkened to s dusky silver, and it seemed far too long on her body. Her gleaming silver eyes were clouded and unreadable, and that loss of familiarity hit Nyra hard.
"I… I can't deal with this." She murmured to herself. She looked around for something, anything, and found a dagger lying at the side of her pack, hilt protruding almost invitingly. "That'll work."
She brought it back to the vanity, slid it up to her neck, right below the jaw, measured the right angle, and used as much force as possible to make the cut.
The hair came away easily, as though it welcomed the change. She made hack after hack, cut after cut, until most of her hair had been gathered in her hands and what was left on her head was a short, haggard cut. She put the strands in her fingers into the drawer after tying them up with some leather cords from the side of her pack. She retrieved a brush and started to detangle the mess on her head, drawing it out even and snicking pieces here and there. After she was done, her hair looked a little less messy and a little more natural. It reached just below her jaw line, metallic strands light and wispy from the brushing.
A knock disturbed her from her grooming, and she put the dagger down on the surface of the vanity. She went over to open the door and found Cullen shuffling around a little, looking up and down the hallway. When he noticed her, his eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.
"Hello, Ser Cullen. May I help you?" she asked innocently. Her gentle and guilt free smile widened as he stammered, just like he used to when she was in the Circle before.
"I just… I was looking for you. When you weren't in here, I… I went down to the training rooms because someone had seen you there, but you weren't there, so I went to the apprentice dining room, but you weren't there either, so I… I panicked." He finished lamely, and Nyra laughed, beckoning him into the room. He kept staring at her hair, and then glanced at the vanity. "What are you doing with a blade?" he exclaimed.
She looked at him bemusedly, chuckling. "I battled darkspawn. Sometimes, magic wasn't enough, so I would have to protect myself in close quarters. That, and a knife or dagger is always handy to have when you're traveling. I mainly use it to gather herbs."
"Oh." He didn't seem to know what else to say. However, he was still staring at her hair, and she started to get self conscious.
"Does it look okay?" she primped it, staring worriedly at the mirror. She thought she heard him gulp, but she dismissed it for his nervousness. Where had it all suddenly come from?
"It looks good on you." He commented, seeming to collect himself. She looked back at him.
"Are you okay? You seem a little wound up." She put her dagger and her brush away, beckoning him to sit in one of the chairs around the fire. He obliged, though he seemed somewhat reluctant at first.
"I'm just… it's been a long couple of days." He replied, and Nyra caught on immediately. She bit her lip and winced.
"You've been watching me on all your on duty hours, haven't you?" she looked at him with worry, sitting opposite him.
"I've been watching over you the entire time. I owed it to you to see your safety followed through." He admitted, resting his arms on his knees and relaxing a bit. When she smiled, it seemed to make him feel better.
"Why would you do that for… for me?" she had been about to say 'for a mage', but that would be implicating that templars didn't care, and he obviously cared for some reason. He squirmed a bit, though this time it was from discomfort, not nervousness. All that seemed to have left the room when he sat down and knew she was safe.
"You were so frightened, so… hurt when you got here… I couldn't just leave you all alone. You were frightened of something, so I stood watch to protect you from whatever it was. In sight of today, I realize it was mostly internal, but… It seemed the right thing to do." He finished, relieved to get that off his chest. She was touched by his concern and felt a strong wave of gratitude towards him.
"Thank you. You have no idea how much it means to me that… that someone cared." She fell silent as the memories started to come back to plague her, and she felt desperate to get away from them. Luckily, Cullen interrupted her thoughts with more discussion, safer topics.
"I've never done personal detail before, so I don't know all the ground rules. Greagoir told me the guidelines, but he said the rest was up to you. I've been moved to just next door, in case something is amiss, and I'm to escort you where you go. He also said that he supported the idea of templars and mages working together, but he thought it best to leave that up to you. This is sort of… an experiment, I guess." He explained, and Nyra smiled again.
"If it helps build a stronger relationship with mages and templars, it might be for the best." She smiled, and he smiled back. That smile played havoc with her heart, though, and she didn't quite understand. The moment passed, and they fell into a comfortable silence. The fire was crackling and they just unwound themselves from the long days before, getting used to each other's company.
"If I may ask…." Cullen started, but he cleared his throat and shook his head. Nyra was curious.
"Yes? You can ask me near anything. We'll be in each other's presence often." She assured him, getting up and stoking the fire slightly. She heard him clear his throat a bit and then he asked.
"Earlier, when… when you mentioned the king…. It's none of my business, I know, but… is everything alright?" she stopped what she was doing and even stopped breathing for a second. She honestly didn't know how to respond to that. She sat back down, a tight knot in her throat as she tried to find a way to explain. She glanced at him nervously, questioning the intentions behind it. He seemed genuinely concerned, and templars weren't known for deceit or… bad things.
"The king and I… had a disagreement." She stated rather forcefully, tears coming to her eyes, but refusing to spill over. "I thought he loved me for a time, but we were only caught up in the struggle against… against the darkspawn. He… he made it obvious he no longer wishes for my company, or me." She inhaled deeply and let it out in a little rattle. She looked up sharply as he snorted sarcastically.
"He made it obvious he's an idiot…." He muttered just high enough for her to hear. She couldn't stop the hysterical laugh that came from her lips.
"You… he's the king!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth to prevent further transgressions. It was strange to hear something like that from a templar, much less about a king.
"And he got on the throne how?" he asked, raising his hands in exasperation. Nyra laughed before she could stop herself, falling back into the chair and giggling. Cullen snorted and started to chuckle right along with her.
"Well… technically, Cheryl Cousland, one of my companions, got him on there with much prodding… and threats. She told him, 'If you're going to act like a Royal Bastard, you might as well be royal, no?', and he couldn't find an excuse after that." she laughed lightly, her lips curving into a smile. His answering smile was bigger than she was used to, and she noticed that his eyes crinkled and twinkled a dark ocher. Her smile faltered a step, remembering a similar smile….
"Well… you don't have to worry about it anymore, right? You'll breeze through this test, come out with a new trick or two, and you can use your new found status as the Hero of Ferelden to… stir up the country?" he smirked in confusion. She shook her head with a returning smile.
"What would I do? I've been in the Circle my whole life, and now… now that the Blights over, there's not much to do but clean up the occasional horde."
"Well, in the stories, most heroes end up fighting for the rights of the people after they save them from an unmentionable evil." He offered, then looked guilty for a moment before turning his head away.
"Yes, I could… do something to that nature. I feel that if the mages must be watched, make it a way without restricting them to a cage." She stated boldly. She had never uttered her thoughts to a templar before, only to Irving and her companions, but she felt the need to voice her opinions now. Before he could respond, she barreled on. "I mean, consider it. Instead of keeping them all locked up in the Tower, why not assign a templar to them when they pass their Harrowing, or better yet, assign a templar recruit to a mage apprentice, let them bond, and then when the mage passes the Harrowing, send the newly made templar along with them out into the world, somewhere where yes, templars reside close by, but freer then they are now! It would reduce the risks of blood magic experimentation! Many mages today only turn to it because they see no other option to be free, right? And-,"
"Nyra." Cullen interrupted, a little sharper than she had expected. "I think an idea like that would be an excellent possibility, except for certain events that have presented a problem. What about the blood mages who turn to it because they only want power?"
"Hunt them down, then. I have little sympathy for blood mages who use it to further their own ends. That's accepting evil because you want it." She emphasized, making her point on the matter clear. Cullen nodded.
"Well, with only one templar watching them, what would happen next?" he countered. She thought on that unhappily, contemplating the solution.
"Hm… that is a point I have considered, but didn't develop quite yet." She paused with a rueful smile. "Until then, we shall have to agree to disagree, won't we?" her smirk grew wider as Cullen grimaced light heartedly, nodding. She noticed that the dark circles under his eyes were nearing purple, and his body was completely shut down from fatigue, his frame slouched in every possible way. "You've been up for only Maker knows how long… you need some rest. Come one, lets get you to your room before you pass out."
He happily obliged, getting up a little less steady then he maybe planned, and she laughed slightly. She took his arm and walked him through the hall to the room next to it,
"Is this it?" she asked, and he nodded in affirmation. He was too tired to speak, and she felt that somewhat endearing. "Thank you."
"For what?" he grumbled slightly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm. He took off one of his gauntlets and crooked it under his arm, letting the other hand worry his face.
"For watching over me. You didn't have to take over the entire time, but… you did it anyways. And for that, I'll always be grateful. You have no idea how much it means to me." She said solemnly, her smile turning sweet and serene. He smiled back, still too tired, but that lazy smile made her unusually happy to see. After a second of silence, however, the smile dropped until his face was dead serious.
"If you ever need help, if something is wrong and you need me, I'll be right here. Don't hesitate to come get me, alright?" he demanded, voice a little slack from his lack of energy, but the burning intention behind them was clear. He was her guardian, and she was his charge.
"Of course, Ser Cullen. I'll come get you if anything is amiss. However, because you have overworked yourself, you need to be tip top shape for your duties. Therefore, I am giving you bed rest until you completely recover. Don't worry, I'll stay in my room and read or something." She scoffed as he started to argue. "Recover and then we can work together to… do something. I'll probably end up training a few of the apprentices on some difficult spells…. But enough of that, you're tired, off to bed with you!"
And with that, she pushed him into the room and watched as he, instead of going to the dresser and changing, simply slumped into the sheets and promptly fell asleep. She went over, used a little telekinetic magic to move him into it comfortably, and with a click of her fingers, the buckles and snaps of his armor undid themselves and she removed the heavy steel with her powers. Left in only a tunic and the lower robes, he looked just as bulky as he did with the armor. She leaned down, tucked him into the covers, and left with a small stroke of his hair.
She couldn't help herself, the hair looked far too soft and the color added a strange texture. It felt like thick down, and she felt her hollow heart tug as he smiled slightly in his sleep.
"Rest, Ser Cullen. We have a world awaiting what we'll do next." She murmured, closing the door and looking to the sky. "Maker…."
Forgive me.
A/N such a long chapter~! I worked on most of it right after I posted on Sunday, but I've been tweaking it ever since. Reviews are, of course, appreciated and help me learn and adapt! Long chapters like this don't normally happen, but sometimes I just can't break up something this developed without losing something in the process. Next chapter may be up by or on the weekend~!