The Joining
Agrona POV
"Patience, little wolf," Valendrian chided. "Good things come to those who wait."
"I thought the early bird gets the worm, Elder," I countered, glaring at the fire. It was a festival night and we were roasting these puffy-sweet-gooey things. Some Orlesian treat that was delicious.
"It is both."
"Can't be. You can't both wait and be first!"
He laughed. "Little wolf. Be like your namesake."
"You want me to cause trouble?" I asked, cheekily. "Mom named me for an Ancient God of war, strife, and carnage."
"No, little wolf. I want you to be like a wolf."
"Don't wolves chase their prey?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Sometimes, they take the time to set up ambushes. Sometimes, they go for the throat."
"How does this relate to patience?"
"It is related to the two phrases. They deal with different circumstances differently and, thus, you must learn to adapt, like the wolf you are so much like."
I pouted. "But I hate waiting."
He ruffled my hair. "Yes, but look what happened while we were waiting." He reached over and removed two of the sweet things from the fire. Golden all around, perfectly toasted. "Now. Watch as all the others gain char marks on their treats because they sought to do other things, instead of waiting."
"…Can I have another?" I asked as I bit into the treat. Gooey and delicious and sweet and perfect.
He laughed, looked around furtively, and snatched another one for both he and me. "Our secret, little wolf."
"Secret!" I laughed.
Ugh… any longer and I'm going to start killing things. Preferably weak cowards that no one would miss.
Like Ser Jory, complaining even now. Pacing, antsy, nervous. Driving me up the freaking wall.
Daveth alternated between ignoring him and glaring at him. I might actually get to like the womanizer if he continues to act like this.
Alistair was watching us all with worried, haunted eyes. What was with this Joining? Something worrisome, I could tell that much.
And Serenity was resting against a nearby column, eyes closed like she was napping. The damn noble was named accurately, I'll tell you that much.
"The more I hear about this Joining," Ser Jory said." The less I like it."
"Are you blubbering again?" Daveth rolled his eyes, exasperated. "Really?"
"Why are there these damned tests? Have I… we… not already earned our place?"
"Maybe it's tradition." Daveth shrugged. "Or maybe they're just trying to annoy you?"
We stay here much longer and Ser Jory is going to die because of my annoyance. I never did learn patience as Valendrian wanted me to. I nudged Daveth, smirking. "Why is the female city elf braver than the male shem knight?"
"My wife is in Highever with a child on the way," Ser Jory defended. Again. "If they had told me…"
If your wife so important, you shouldn't have come. "Well, I hope your wife survived Highever's fall. The place is an absolute wreck. Blood and carnage and the like. All over the place."
Ser Jory froze, shocked. Or was it horrified? "What?"
I was about to explain, in detail, when a calm, cold, serious voice called my name, "Agrona." I looked to find Serenity, relaxed but alert, staring at me with ice-blue eyes. "You are being cruel."
"And he's being annoying. Glory, glory, glory with no sacrifices."
"You are doing a remarkable imitation of a child." She walked up, grabbed my arm, and dragged me away from the boys. "Is that your intention or is it accident?"
"It would serve him right if she… wait, no, it wouldn't." I sighed, growling.
"No, the death of a loved one doesn't serve anyone 'right'." She sat down on a ledge and pulled me beside her. "No matter how annoying and idiotic they are."
"I mean, he's going on and on about how unfair things are!" I ranted. "Well, life isn't fair. Life isn't supposed to be fair!"
"No. If life were fair, I would be a corpse and my nephew would have survived, instead of dying like a pig for slaughter."
…Oh. Great. She's going all creepy-calm. Damn it. But… "No. He wouldn't have. And my best friend wouldn't have been raped by a noble who thought too highly of himself."
"Exactly." We sat in silence for a bit, watching Ser Jory and Daveth arguing about something. "This secrecy and silence is unnerving, though. Especially in light of what happened in the Wilds."
"Really?" I looked at her, surprised. "But… you're so…" Serene.
"I am trained to remain calm in any situation to give an illusion of confidence and control. Papa taught me that." She chuckled sadly. "It's why my argument with you earlier was so shameful."
"But that sounds so unhealthy." How can one lock everything up?
She laughed, bright and loud. A real laugh. "I'm going to keep you. You're entertaining."
"I belong to no one, noble," I growled, somewhat playfully. "I swear fealty and loyalty to no one."
"You belong to the people who care for you. Always." She smiled sadly. "That was one of Aldous's lessons…" Aldous… the old guy in the library…
"Are you all right?"
"About?"
"Highever."
She immediately closed up, going all stoic. "Of course I'm-"
"Remember that agreement? You speak your mind more and I give you a chance?"
She half-smiled. "I did agree to that, didn't I?" She sighed, slumping slightly. "I live. Beyond that, I truly cannot say." She looked past me. "Master Duncan is here."
I glanced over. Sure enough, Duncan was walking up with a silver goblet. He placed it on a nearby table, looked around… and I got to see him looking very confused. He glanced at Alistair who pointed to us. Duncan turned and waved us over. "Well," I sighed. "Let's get this over with."
As soon as the two of us rejoined the group, Duncan spoke, "At last, we have come to the Joining." He steeled himself, as if preparing for something. Maker, don't tell me he's going to die giving us whatever power the Grey Wardens have. That just sounds like a scary story told to the littles. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight…" And that's my cue to daydream. Long speeches drive me crazy.
Crazy… I wonder how things in the Alienage are right now. I miss everyone… hope everything's all right…
"We… we're going to drink the blood of those… things?" Ser Jory stammered, in disbelief. What did I miss?
"As the first Grey Wardens did, as we have," Duncan confirmed, nodding (with a small, proud smile) at Alistair. "This is the source of our power."
"Those who survive the Joining become immune to the Taint," Alistair said, jumping into the conversation. "We can sense the darkspawn and can use it to slay the Archdemon."
"'Those who survive'?" Serenity repeated in an all-too-calm voice. "This Joining can kill us?" For a second, I thought she seemed… eager. But I must have imagined it. Why would anyone be eager for something that could kill you? At least, without a good adrenaline rush. Like a battle.
"Not all who drink the blood survive," Duncan explained, looking somewhat sad. Blood? The darkspawn blood? We're drinking that stuff? How insane and desperate were the first Grey Wardens when they thought of that? "Those who do survive are changed forever. This is the reason behind our secrecy."
"So, basically, it's a death sentence to the life you had before?" I asked. "You can never go back?" Or leave?
"You could try, but it would be hard." Duncan laughed softly, almost-bitterly. "Very, very hard." Ser Jory looked extremely ill. "Now, we speak only a few words before the Joining, but they have been spoken since the First, long ago." Duncan nodded. "Alistair?"
Alistair nodded back and bowed his head, as if in prayer. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows, where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. Should you perish… know you sacrifice will not be forgotten… and that someday…" He paused to look each one of us in the eye. "Know that we… shall join you."
"Thank you, Alistair," Duncan murmured as he grabbed the goblet with both hands, cradling it. "Now…"
"Master Duncan? May I go first?" Serenity asked… too calm. Everything about her was too calm at this point. "Or will that go against traditions?"
Duncan eyed her warily. I think he, too, thought she was too calm. "No, if you wish, you may be the first to drink, Serenity."
"Thank you." She smiled and took the cup from Duncan. Then, without hesitation, she took a sip and handed it back.
Nothing happened. For a moment. Just long enough for me to write off the entire thing as a prank. Then she started shivering, doubling over like she was freezing. She kept perfectly silent, though, with her head bowed. Until it jerked up once (only once). Her eyes were white. No pupil, no color. Just… blank… white… Then, her eyes closed and she fell back, fainting. Alistair caught her before she slammed into the ground, checking for a pulse.
"She lives," he quietly announced, carrying her over to a clear area behind us. I'm assuming to sleep off… whatever happened.
I just managed to catch Duncan's relieved smile before he slipped back into his stoic façade. "Daveth," he called. "Step forward."
Daveth obeyed and, like Serenity before, took the cup from Duncan. He hesitated briefly, like he was taking a deep breath, before drinking.
At first, it seemed to be the exact same. Nothing followed by doubling over and white eyes. But Daveth moaned and groaned in pain while Serenity had remained perfectly silent. And suddenly, he clutched his throat, hacking blood!
"Maker's mercy!" Ser Jory breathed, looking like he was about to bolt. For once, I didn't blame him. I actually felt like doing the same. Only the knowledge that Duncan would probably catch me in five minutes, max, kept me rooted.
"I'm sorry, Daveth," Duncan said, sadly.
I don't know whether Daveth ever heard the apology. He convulsed, collapsed, twitched, and became still. Too still to be alive. Alistair knelt beside him and confirmed what we already knew. "Dead."
"Step forward, Jory." Duncan kept moving. Was it nothing? …No, it was habit. I knew that routine. You break down later, when everything else faded away.
I heard metal scrape on metal and looked to see Ser Jory had his sword out, pointing at Duncan.
…Really? Pointing a sword at Duncan? Fear must have snapped his mind. What little he had of one, at any rate.
A clang brought me out of my thoughts. Yep. Snapped. Only a madman attacked Duncan.
Especially since Duncan skewered him faster than a child stole candy… as easy as breathing… as easy as he had killed those darkspawn in my Wedding-Day-Dream.
…Oh, Maker. It's drink or be gutted. Potential death or definite.
"Give me the goblet quick. While my reckless side cowers," I managed to (shakily) crack. How many other dark secrets do the Wardens keep?
I think Duncan actually laughed a little before he handed it to me. "Then here, Agrona."
I wonder why he insisted on saying our names. Was it tradition? Or was it a quirk of his? A way to remember all he recruited.
Oh, well. Doesn't really matter. I'll ask later.
With one last breath (please don't let that be prophetic), I took the sip of the bloody cocktail. It was thick, almost like syrup, but not nearly as tasty. In fact, what little taste it did have was bitter. Ugh… how disgust-
Pain shot through me, then had the gall to linger. Fire coursed through my veins, yet ice settled in my chest (heart). My head throbbed…
And suddenly, there was a dragon, deep black, roaring in my head. "Destroy the resistance! Destroy the ruins!"
The next thing I knew, I was laying down, head pillowed on something warm, and looking at something red and white with little dots of blue. I'm guessing a person, but for all I knew, it could have been a freaking demon. Everything was too damn blurry to tell.
The thing seemed to smile. "Hello, sleepyhead. How do you feel?"
"We're not going there." The thing laughed. It sounded familiar. "That you, noble?"
"It is," she confirmed. Ah… the world is starting to focus. The blotches actually looked like a person now. "You've been out for a good few hours."
"Oh?" I glanced around the area, head still throbbing. What in the Void was that dragon? "Where…?" Are the others? There were no bodies.
"Alistair fetched us both water to wash out the taste and then went to dispose of the bodies." How did she know what I wanted to ask? "And that sounds absolutely horrid, yet I cannot think of another way to phrase it. But to return to the answer, Duncan went to a strategy meeting which we are to attend as soon as you are able to stand."
"Why?"
"Cailan wishes it."
"Don't wanna," I whined.
"Neither do I." She patted my head, like I was a child. "But Cailan asked and Duncan didn't want to refuse. Personally, I think Cailan is getting a tad spoiled, but I don't think we should hurt Duncan's stance."
"Why not Alistair? He's our senior," I pointed out.
She shrugged. "I asked the same. All I was able to infer from Duncan's deflections is that Alistair and Cailan act awkward around one another for an unknown, no doubt very good, reason."
"Oh?" I blinked a few times, finally clearing away the blurry splotches… to notice something. "Why is my head on your lap?"
"You just realized?" she teased. "Am I not more comfortable than the stone ground?"
"Well, you're warmer," I conceded, slowly sitting up. "Ugh, where's that water you mentioned?" She handed me a skin. I took a swig. "Maker, it's going to take weeks to get the taste out."
"A good meal will clear it from your mind. Trust me." She stood up, brushing herself off before offering me a hand up. "Come. Cailan waits."
I took her hand and let her pull me up. "Hey, where's your malbari?" He had been missing ever since we came back from the Wilds.
"Mabari."
"Huh?"
"It's mabari," she corrected, holding back laughter. "Not 'malbari'. And Kaiser was resting with some of the other mabari."
"Oh." I flushed, embarrassed. Maker, I've been pronouncing it wrong for years. Her grin brought my attention to something near her mouth. "Why is there blood on your lip?"
"Hmm?" she wiped her mouth. "Oh. The cut must still be open."
"Cut?"
"I bit my lip to keep from screaming from the pain."
It was like the very word summoned the wave that rocked through me. "So, how far exactly do we have to move?"
"Not far, technically. Considering the fact that both of us hurt a lot, though?" she shrugged. "It's going to feel far."
She turned out to be perfectly correct. Damn it. I hope this pain goes away soon. It was annoying.
"Loghain, my decision is final." Speaking of 'annoying', it seems the King was finding someone just that. Judging by his tone and face at any rate. Loghain… wait… isn't that… "I will fight alongside the Grey Wardens in this battle."
A tall man, much older than the King, with long black hair and foreign-looking silver armor also looked more than a little annoyed. And familiar. This was the man I saw right before that odd… feeling-vision-thing. "You risk too much, Cailan! It's too dangerous for you to be on the front lines!" So, this was Teyrn Loghain? The Hero of the River Dane, Right Hand of the Legendary Savior King Maric? He was even more imposing than I expected.
"If that's the case," the King retorted, airily. Like he had said this before. "Perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces after all." Orlesian… forces…? But… whoa, there. Didn't your da-
"How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son hand us over to those who enslaved us for over a century," the Teyrn growled. "I think he would have died from the shock."
"Not true," I heard Serenity mumble. "Maric had been discussing diplomacy with the Orlesians for the past twenty years. And bringing forces is not necessarily handing over a nation."
"Then our current forces will have to suffice!" The King snapped, obviously trying to end the argument.
"That doesn't mean you have to be on the front lines, Cailan!" uh… didn't they just…? I glanced at Duncan to see he was looking rather annoyed himself. Guess they've been arguing in circles.
"Loghain, it's good to see you." The argument halted as Serenity greeted the Teyrn. By name. "I heard you took a wound in the last skirmish. Has it healed?"
"Enough to fight," the Teyrn answered with a warm smile. "Cailan. Here is an example of how you are supposed to behave towards your elders."
"Oh, yes, the shining example," the King dead-panned. "Excuse me while I conveniently forget my entire childhood so that I can agree without lying through my teeth."
"Cailan's being mean!" Serenity whined in a convincing child's tone, eyes dancing. "Make him stop!"
"Stop, indeed. If we can continue with this meeting?" Duncan growled. I was right; he was annoyed.
"Yes, of course." The King recovered easily enough. "Are your men prepared for battle?"
"At your command, Your Majesty." Duncan nodded. "We will be ready in a moment's notice."
"Excellent." The King looked at Serenity and me. "I believe a congratulations is in order? For surviving whatever trial it was?"
I shrugged. "Nothing to it, really."
"Just a lot of pain and fire and ice." Serenity shot me a grin. "Fainting and waking up in a pretty girl's lap."
The King laughed. "Well, the ending makes it worth everything!"
I looked between the two, somewhere between annoyed and entertained. "Are you two always like this?"
"If you believe this is bad, do not meet them with Fergus and Anora," the Teyrn sighed. "It's far worse."
"Regardless," the King said, seizing control of the conversation. "Every Grey Warden is needed, especially at this time. It's a great honor to serve among them."
"Your fascination with glory and fantasies will be your fall, Cailan." The Teyrn's voice hinted that this, too, was an old argument. "We must attend to reality."
"Yes, yes, Loghain." The way the King shrugged off the rebuke confirmed my suspicion. "Tell us the strategy again. The Grey Wardens and I will draw the darkspawn into charging our lines…"
The Teyrn bent over a map on the table. "You will alert the Tower through the signal we discussed earlier. This will be my cue to-"
"Flank the darkspawn," The King interrupted. "I remember…" he trailed off, thinking. "Who is to light the beacon?"
"I have a few men stationed there," the Teyrn answered, straightening. "It's not a large task, but vital."
"Then we should make certain the best are there." The King looked at Duncan. "Can Alistair and Serenity be the ones to light the beacon?"
"This better not be special treatment, Cailan," Serenity warned. "I will not take kindly to it."
"You would hurt your King?" he teased.
"Worse. I'll tell everyone about that time on the cliffs near Highever."
He paled. "Oh, come on! I was ten!"
"And?"
"Brutal as ever," he muttered before shaking his head. "Regardless, no. It's not special treatment." Yet not even I believed that. Something was up with Alistair and Serenity and the King wanted them away from the fighting.
"I can arrange it easily," Duncan finally answered. "However, Agrona shall stay near me."
"Of course." The King smiled. "I look forward to the battle. With luck, it shall be glorious."
Serenity raised an eyebrow. "Someone's been reading old tales again."
"That is exactly what I've been warning him about." The Teyrn sighed. "But he doesn't listen."
"Well, he has the luck of the blessed. He'll be fine."
"I'm right here, you two," the King growled.
But Serenity ignored him. "Is there perhaps time for a chess game before the battle?"
"Not unless we wish to miss our last meal in peace," the Teyrn joked.
"Fine." Serenity pouted. "Afterwards, then. I'll win this time."
"Will you now?"
"Don't underestimate me, Loghain. I almost won last time!"
"You did?" The King's eyes were wide, bright with excitement. "Hey, if you win, Serenity, let's open up that bottle of Agreggio Pavali from Tevinter I got a few years back."
"Sounds like a plan!" She laughed, looking like the girl I met in Highever.
"If you hope to eat before we set out, Agrona, you had best come now." I whirled, unsheathing my daggers, to find Duncan had snuck up on me. He nodded approvingly. "Good reaction."
"Thank you." I sheathed the blades as he gently guided me away from the strategy table. I glanced back. A mal… ma-bari was now sitting at the Teyrn's feet, panting happily. I think it was Serenity's Kaiser. The Teyrn bent to pet the dog. So… he's soft on pets? He's soft on the two nobles as well. At least, it seemed like it. He was definitely fond of them. He, in a roundabout way, reminded me of Valendrian. The doting yet stern uncle who was proud of his 'sibling's' children. Aside from his very worried (conflicted) look, it seemed like a normal family scene.
"I find it amazing how close they can be despite the recent arguments," Duncan commented, noticing where I was staring.
"Arguments?" I turned to face him, curious.
"Over Orlais."
"What about Orlais? They're gone. We humiliated them, won our independence, and kicked the pompous bastards out."
"I fervently pray you learn tact before you killed," he grumbled. "Though, what you say is mostly accurate."
"So, why the arguments?"
"Teyrn Loghain continues to… hold a prejudice against Orlais. Understandably so, of course," he quickly reassured. "Teyrn Loghain suffered much under the Orlesians. It colors his view to this day."
"Well, they were the enemy." Duncan's amused look made me feel like a five-year-old. "They were!"
"I didn't say they weren't." Yet he remained amused. "To return to the topic, Teyrn Loghain loathes Orlesians. Teryn Bryce, however, fostered many friendships with the Orlesians and King Maric worked actively to improve diplomatic relations between the countries." He sighed. "Their children tend to follow the same paths, with less arguments."
"Why would King Maric do that, though? Didn't he basically liberate us from them?" Teyrn Bryce… was Serenity's father. His brother-by-marriage was an Orlesian, if I remembered correctly. That, at least, I could understand. A loyalty to family, if nothing else.
"The King met a couple of Orlesians who were not 'pompous bastards', to borrow your words, and decided that there must be others of similar temperament."
"But why? Why would he assume that? Wouldn't it just be easier to keep the bastards off our lands and not deal with it?"
"And this is one reason why I had hoped to recruit Serenity at Highever, though I wish the circumstances had been different." Right, Serenity had been his first choice, over the orange/red-haired knight who was the better fighter. "You two will work well together, I think." He chuckled at my disbelieving stare. "Eventually."
"So… what? She knows Orlesian culture?"
"She knows the culture and language of Orlais, Antiva, and Tevinter. She is also has an uncanny grasp on coercion and politics."
"I'm going to feel like an ignorant idiot around her." This will not help us to get along.
"She has her skills and you have yours." He smiled, gripping my shoulder. "All Grey Wardens are equal to one another. Not one truly outshines another."
"Not even a human noble over a city elf?"
"Serenity would be the first to admit she could never have slaughtered an entire guard garrison, all with exceptional battle training, alone, with no armor and borrowed daggers and get out of the situation alive. She simply does not have enough skill as a fighter to do so." I was reminded of my dad, right then. Scolding, but only because I had missed something he considered obvious. "Now, remind me who did do that?"
"…Me…"
"Exactly. You will do very well as a Grey Warden. I 'm certain of it." He looked away, noticing something. "Ah, there is Alistair, with food. Come. Let's enjoy this last bit of peace."
Why did those words sound prophetic? Ugh, there's something wrong with this place. Making me all weird.
Nothing can go wrong.
Everything was going to be fine.
Author's note: whoo… and here's the Joining again.
Just a reiteration: Agrona is the battle-master-warden. The Warden that gets all the kills and gets out with minimal wounds. Even when she solos. But her tendency to say the first thing on her mind will make her fail many a persuasion check. Case in point: Previous chapter with the wounded soldier.
Serenity, however, is the coercion-master-warden. The Warden that can convince people to do whatever she wants without a fight. But her focus on politics and cultures meant less time to practice weapons. This makes her a less-skilled warrior.
Not to say the two don't have some skill at the other. Agrona will succeed in some intimidation checks, for instance, and Serenity certainly fights some battles. But Serenity will come away from the battles wounded/scarred while Agrona might have to beat a few skulls in before they listen.
