(I don't own Dragon Age, Torchwood, or Bloodsong 13T's works. No, I am not dead, I swear I'm not! Here, doesn't this update prove it?)
Muscles screaming, blood dripping from my mouth. My eyes burned. When was the last time I had even slept? How long have I been Arl?
"I'm not like you."
Mother laughed, a wall of her disgusting spike-like tentacles between my companions and I. Anders set them ablaze, and pain spasmed across Mother's features but she didn't budge. On the other side of the cave, one of Mother's darkspawn cleaved Justice's head off with a single swipe of his sword.
"Dammit," Anders cursed, turning his head away from the sight with a wince as he turned his attention back to me, "Warden!"
"You miss it. Miss the song," she cooed, closing her eyes and swaying as if remembering it, "you still remember the feeling of being part of something bigger. Miss the peace of it. Of the song."
"I miss nothing," I spat, "I'm glad it's gone from my head."
"Is it?" Mother asked, "is it gone? Do you really not miss it?"
I bared my teeth, "not at all."
"I don't believe you," Mother growled, "I think you're just like me. I think you miss it, too."
"I'll miss not killing you sooner," I growled as I raised my sword. Mother screamed and stabbed me through with a tentacle, but my sword bit through her all the same.
Her breath rattled from her mouth, and her face twisted before settling into one of peace as the life left her eyes. The tentacle went slack, and I fell off of it, just another limp form littering the ground.
"Assan!" Anders screamed.
"Hold on!" Oghren shouted, and I only stared as my old friend cleaved the tentacles in half. Anders leaped over the remains of them, racing to my side, and flipped me onto my back, his trembling hands struggling to stop the blood pouring out of me as his magic flickered and died across his hands.
"No, no, no, no, no," Anders let out a rasping sob that racked his body as my blood, my life, poured out before him and he was helpless to stop it, "please-please-please, come on! Maker's Breath, Assan! Please!"
I gasped, every breath an agonizing pain stabbing through me; blood welled up my throat, clogging it, choking me, and I gagged on it.
"You helped me even when you didn't have to," Anders clenched his eyes shut, "you never doubted me, even when you had every right to. Maker damn it, Assan, you stubborn ass! Maker kill me if I let you down after what you've done for me!"
He stiffened, going stiff. The air crackled with the smell of the Fade.
"Yes," he said, staring somewhere away from all of this, "he's helped us both. Help me help him."
Anders gasped. His eyes glowed blue.
I let out a shuddering breath as my eyes focused past the mage, who crackled with glowing blue power and stank of the smell of the Fade.
"Tam... Tamlen?" I choked out, looking past Anders, past the cave, past the pain.
Tamlen smiled at me. I tried to reach for him, but my hand wouldn't move. Tamlen didn't reach for me. Instead he shook his head and looked towards Anders with a look of sadness.
"It is not your time, Warden," Justice's voice came from Anders' mouth, the spirit's power mixing with Anders' magic, the crackling power pouring into me, "not yet. Not today. Not if I have a say in it."
-Assan-
I turned the music up, drowning out the memory and the accompanying ache in my body. It was getting worse, dripping into my waking moments instead of my dreams, dragging me through old times.
I liked music the best. This world had amazing things, and one of the most amazing besides the instant paintings (called pictures by the OtherWorlders) was the amount of music they had 'recorded' that I could listen to. Their music was odd, different than I was used to, but still good. It drowned out the song stuck in my head, and I turned the volume on the 'headphones' up until the music from the 'Pandora app' was all that I could hear. I turned it up until the phone wouldn't let me turn it up anymore. Until my ears ached and I couldn't hear my own thoughts, let alone the song that danced at the edge of my mind.
I could feel the music in my head, a beat strumming through. I closed my eyes and let it drown out everything. Thoughts. Memories. Fear. Worry. Everything. Louder and louder until there was nothing.
Only song.
"Whoa, now, you're gonna kill your ears," Owen pulled the earplugs from my ears, "I thought elves have better hearing than humans."
I rubbed at my ears, "we do."
"Are you trying to make yourself go deaf?"
"No," I grabbed my earbuds back up and plugged one back into my ear, but Owen had already lowered the volume on my phone. I scowled at the man.
"I'm not kidding," Owen scowled right back at me, "do your little magic buddies have ways to fix hearing?"
I narrowed my eyes at him and glanced away.
'"I didn't think so," Owen said, "so when the phone tells you that you have the music too loud, I want you to turn it down three notches instead of two, got it? Doctor's orders."
"Fine," I complied.
"And really? Rock music? At max volume? I don't care how good you think Metallica or AC/DC is, Assan, doing that will destroy your ears."
"I get it."
Satisfied, Owen turned and went back to his work.
I turned the volume back up to the max.
-Marian-
"Have you seen Assan?"
"He's not with you?" I looked up from the amazing device they called a tv, lifting my head from where I had been resting it on Fenris' shoulder, the two of us curled up on the 'couch' in front of the device.
Assan's Zevran scowled and glanced around in worry, fiddling with something small, metallic, and golden in his hands. It was the earring Assan had ripped out of his ear yesterday; I guess despite having forgiven Zevran, Assan still hadn't requested to have it back.
"No," Zevran admitted, "and he didn't go with the others to go catch that thing they call a weevil, either, because he was still here after they had left. Bannon, other me, Jack, Gwen- Assan didn't go with them."
"What about Barkspawn? The mabari is never far from him," I suggested, "or maybe he went out to explore. I know that's something I want to do."
"No," Zevran dropped down beside me, staring at the tv but not quite seeming to be watching it, "he wouldn't leave. Not without me."
"I think you really pissed him off yesterday."
"But I explained! He knows what I was talking about. He did forgive me. He did!"
"Okay," I shrugged, "don't you think you're getting bent out of shape about it?"
"No!"
I gave the elf an unimpressed look, "okay, Mr. Not-Getting-Bent-Out-Of-Shape. If you don't mind, I'm trying to watch this thing about a mage in a kingdom where having magic is punishable by death and it is very interesting, so why don't you go take this somewhere else before these commercials end and you accidentally catch on fire for interrupting?"
Zevran clenched his eyes shut, hands tightening into fists, "no, you don't understand! I don't like letting him be alone, letting him be in danger, not when I can do something about it. All I've ever wanted is to keep him safe. He... I would murder the Maker, himself, to keep Assan safe."
"Well, Bannon's Zevran doesn't seem to worry about Bannon as much as you worry about Assan?" I said at the same time Fenris grumbled something about hearing that the two met when Zevran tried to kill Assan.
Zevran scowled, "perhaps because his Warden has survival sense! Assan is.. a hero, to his very core. He cares for the life of every innocent or ally, yet lacks any regard for his own! The other Zevran, and Maker knows if that's not odd to be saying things about another me when there has only ever been one of me, doesn't need to worry about Bannon as much as I worry for Assan because Bannon is smarter."
"Don't let Assan catch you saying that."
"But it is true, no?" Zevran admitted, "I... forget it. You do not understand what I'm trying to say."
I let out a groan of annoyance, "why stop now, when you've caught my attention? You, me, Fenris, Assan: we're the last we've got of our world, if what these Torchwood people said about us not being able to go home is true. So tell me what's bothering you."
"We traveled with a witch of the Wilds, a woman named Morrigan," Zevran told me, "turns out whichever Warden kills the archdemon is supposed to die with it, but Morrigan knew of a ritual that would keep the Warden alive. That Warden was, as you know, Assan. Before the battle, she went to him. She told me about it, later, before the fight, told me to keep an eye on him. It's why I argued so harshly to go with him to fight the archdemon. When she went to Assan and offered the opportunity to live to him... he turned her down."
I frowned and glanced at the tv, but it was still on commercial, "... Assan... doesn't seem dead."
"Because she had to manipulate him to do it. She asked him how she thought I would feel should he be dead," Zevran told me, "she told me he only agreed after she mentioned me. What I'm trying to say is that Assan lacks in the survival instinct department. No matter how clever or cunning he is and will ever be, that lack will keep him a fool. But he's my fool. And that's why I worry. Do you know how many times he's almost died?"
"How much trouble can he get into in here?" I pointed out as the commercials ended and the 'show' came back on, "oh-oh-oh! SSSSHHHHH! It's back on."
"Thanks for the help," Zevran said, sarcasm edging his words like venom.
"Anytime."
"He's in the tourist shop."
"What?" Zevran snapped his gaze onto Fenris, who didn't even glance away from the tv.
"Ianto wanted to sort through the Torchwood records, but he usually has the tourist shop open today. Assan offered to take care of it for him. That's why you can't find him down here in the Hub, because he's upstairs in the shop," Fenris said, "I'd bet Varric's crossbow that he has Barkspawn with him."
"Oh," Zevran calmed a little, "I... thank you."
"Stop looking at Hawke's rear all the time and perhaps I'll consider it even," Fenris narrowed his eyes.
"...Fair enough," Zevran shrugged, carefree demeanor back in place.
"Now leave," Fenris told him, "Merlin's back on."
The King of Ferelden was quiet, sitting at his desk and staring at the top of it with blankness in his eyes.
I helped myself to a chair and cast a glance at the door before turning my attention back to the King.
"And... you're sure of this?"
I raised an eyebrow at the man and gestured to myself, "even if you didn't believe my words, surely a single glance at me will convince you."
"Of course it does," the King ran a hand through his hair, "I never even suspected the Warden-Commander of being... that he was..."
"Can you blame him?"
"I... no... I- I can't blame him. He just... didn't seem the type. He seemed so.." the king waved his hands around, grasping for a word to explain, "so Assan!"
I laughed, speaking once I had composed myself, "so Assan? Is that the only thing you can think of?"
Alistair frowned at me, "well, then what would you choose?"
I paused to think it over for a moment.
"Cunning," I said finally, "no. Curious. Both, perhaps. Always needing to know about this, or that, and yet having a mind and tongue sharp enough to put what his curiosity teaches him to use."
"What, and you're not cunning either? Your tongue isn't just as silver as his?"
I shrugged and smiled, "perhaps it is. Perhaps it isn't. Perhaps I don't even care."
The king didn't seem satisfied by my answer, but he didn't push it, "so how do you expect to find them, wherever they are?"
"The Inquisition has a working eluvian. We plan on going into it. With the combined magical strength of Dorian, Solas, and I, and the use of my mark, we should be able to use my connection with Assan to latch onto his location and work a spell that, theoretically, should use the power of my mark to open a rift."
"Amazing," the king's face lit up, "could... could I maybe..."
"It's still all in theory," I admitted, "but I have faith in the Inquisition."
Alistair smiled, "I... thank you. Just.. thank you. For- for helping."
I smiled.
"Well, that's what the Inquisition is here for, isn't it? We're here to help."
