Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age or A Song of Ice and Fire
The Phoenix and the Griffin
Chapter 18: Darkness's grip
The Reach
Leo woke up on the road, the travelling companions he had gained all resting with him. A brigand whom he had convinced to follow him, a small person (Leo refused to call him a dwarf, he wasn't one after all) whom had been part of a group of travelling performers, a lady thief who was unlucky enough to pick Leo's purse. Then there was the Northerner, the cleric and the deprived man. Leo found him on the road, robbed, stripped and left for dead. He carried the man on his back to a nearby inn, gave the innkeeper gold and instruction to bath and treat the man with Elfroot, he also gave him a few days worth of silver for a room. It took Leo back, but with the help of a hedge knight and falconer, he tracked down and killed the bandits. Such a thing felt good to Leo, not just the act of killing, but why he was killing them too. It felt like justice to him.
"I think it's time," he said.
The hedge knight, falconer and the deprived man had joined him too. The deprived man had been gifted by Leo with black leather armour and boiled boots and gloves. He regarded Leo as the others did, with respect, and a small growing reverence. Leo put his hand over the fire, and it began to burn brighter, illuminating the camp. Borosi was with the knight, the red priest and the two women from the Fingers.
"Dig in everyone," he threw a red stone to Borosi.
Red Lyrium, they all held the stone that they had been gifted with. They all crushed it with whatever tools they had. Then they proceeded to slide the particles down their throat, using their hands, a stone. Even the deprived man sniffed the red lyrium through his nose, he had nothing else after all. Leo sat close to the fire, petting Omega's fur as his companions revelled in the high. Some began to strip and kiss, and when it became apparent that some sort of orgy would occur, Leo left the camp so they could enjoy themselves. He walked up to a hill with Omega, where he would rest, enjoying the sight of the stars. Blocking out the moans and laughter, he thought of the red haired woman, the lady in the lake.
'Hand maiden of Revka Amell,' he mused, stroking the scar over his eye.
Every time he walked past a body of water, every time he felt an itch in his eye, or put on his armour, he was reminded of that encounter. He shook thoughts of the girl away and focused on sleeping, curling up and stroking Omega. The Blight influenced his dreams, continually bombarding him with the call of the Archdemon, and the advance of the horde. When morning came, Leo walked to the forest where his quarry was lying. Through villages he walked, listening to the stories of the rise of the House Tyrell. Stewards to a greater house.
Daylen grit his teeth together as he rolled onto his front. Water fell onto his feet, some sort of waterfall. Standing, Daylen rubbed his shoulder and groaned. It had been quite a fall. There was a stench in the air, unpleasant, he wasn't familiar with the feeling of hay fever. But he recognised the scent of flowers, only this was more concentrated. Daylen walked onwards, wading through a pond before he climbed onto land. In contrast to what he had seen before, the land was green with fresh grass. Petals flew in the wind and Daylen heard the sounds of field labour. Men with hollow and bony skin reaped over fields of gold plate roses. Daylen walked next to the field, keeping his guard up in case the hollow men turned their scythes on him. A man in a white hood enthusiastically dug at the roses, ripping them out with his hands. Daylen saw the man's hands, they were green, like moss with small branches on them. When the man turned to him, Daylen saw a handsome man, but with a vine across his face, and branch antlers extending from his head.
"One fucking weed after another, we pull and pull and pull, yet still the thorny bastards never leave it, it's our garden, OUR GARDEN!" the man yelled.
Daylen turned away from him, checking the area for any places he could climb to get back up to the city.
"Grow weak please, grow weak, STOP GROWING SO FUCKING STRONG!"
'Growing strong', Daylen remembered a letter from his family about a Westerosi house with a motto like that. He shook his head though, there couldn't be a connection.
"If you're looking for the boy, you might want to check the cathedral," the man said.
Daylen quickly turned towards him, conjuring fire in his hand.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
"The cathedral, it's where the mother above always takes them, children, the father above can't see her do to them what she will," the man said.
"And what will she do?" Daylen asked.
"Much worse than what is being done to you good sir," the man stood and mock bowed, gesturing to Daylen's face.
A piece of his skin flaked and Daylen cursed. He would fall apart in this place if he didn't find Connor soon.
"Yeah, it's what happens to anyone who doesn't belong here, or you just lose yourself. We held on, until we fucking burned, hurt like hell. But what hurt more was the betrayal, we could have fought, we should have fought, fuck the dragons, but no, no, the fucking golden roses," the man kicked the roses in anger.
"Golden roses, you couldn't mean, the Tyrells?" Daylen asked.
The man's eyes widened and he became silent. He seemed distant, as if frozen. Then he chomped his teeth together, breaking them. His branch horns stretched and he flailed. His robes burned, revealing that some of his flesh was made of burning tree bark.
"We defeated the dragon host, then their mounts came down and BURNED US! BURNED UNCLE! BURNED OUR COUSINS! BURNED ME!"
He took a step towards Daylen, trying to grab him. Daylen let out his ice magic, extinguishing the flames on the tree man. That seemed to calm the tree man down, and he shook his head, leaves falling out of his hair. He straightened his posture, appearing more dignified.
"But I did not die, I did not die, until three days later, three days later when I said to the steward, 'I have made my mark, the dragons will not forget the green hands, it is time to bow,' 'yes, my king,' the steward said, the steward smiled, the steward laughed, and then he smothered me with my own fucking pillow...the Tyrells, yes, the Tyrells, filthy liars, USURPERS!"
"History seems to remember that the last king of Highgarden died of his burns," Daylen said.
"Of course they do, because the golden roses got to write history, who would follow someone who murderer their lord? Oh sneaky Tyrells, bet they're still sneaky," the tree man snarled.
Highgarden
Leo ran his hands across the ground, whilst Omega sniffed at it. Red markings spread across his hand when he saw what he was looking for. He grinned, a grave like this for a king. It had taken him some time in both the Fade and the shit hole that was the Reach. Oh it was peaceful, summery, but the high born deluded themselves into thinking they were honourable, benevolent. Yet they still held their lavish suppers and gave the scraps to the people. Scraps, it was a slap in the face to all those in the dirt to be given charity by people they despised.
'That delicious hatred is why my plan is going to succeed,' Leo grinned.
He dug with the shovel, dug and dug, lifting the dirt over his shoulder, digging until his hands got blisters on them. Omega sat curled on one of the tree branches, looking down at Leo.
"I'm glad you're comfortable," Leo huffed and the Direcat simply purred.
Then Leo saw it, the bones.
"Finally," he whispered.
He took his knife from his belt and dragged it over his palm. Droplets of blood went into the dirt and Leo added to the mix the red lyrium. The spark of magic was enough, and the blood was enough to bind it. Something began to grow, roots came from the ground and slowly twisted and span like a yarn.
The Void
The tree man suddenly screamed, and Daylen looked at him in horror. There was a red glow across his body, and he yelled so loud that the ground began to shake.
"What's happening?" Daylen demanded.
"VIOLATION! VIOLATION! WE GREEN KINGS WILL NOT BE THRALLS!" the man screamed.
The ground began to rise and Daylen fell onto a tree branch, he looked at his surroundings and saw that what he had been standing on was the top of a great tree. It grew and grew, expanding like a bubble. Daylen was thrown from the branch, towards one of the buildings in the city. He crashed through a window.
Redcliffe
Daylen yelled, cuts spreading across his arms, legs and face. Irving grit his teeth together, knowing that despite how much Daylen struggled and screamed, they had to persist or he would be lost forever to them.
'Fight on my son,' Irving's thoughts and prayers were with him.
Highgarden
Leo raised his hand, his puppet of roots and bark grew and formed. The tree bark hardened into green plate armour, with leaves forming the fabric underneath. A face formed, and a crown of roots and branch like horns appeared on top of green leaf like hair. Leo looked upon the taller tree man he had summoned, looking upon the symbol on its shoulder cloak. A green hand.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, King of the Reach, Meryn Gardener the ninth," Leo said.
He lowered his hands, and his thrall knelt, resting on the ground an axe with a tree branch handle.
The Void
Daylen put his hands to his eyes, yelling as he saw something. A face that was so familiar.
"Impossible, Leo's dead," he snarled.
He dragged his feet across the room, leant against the wall and watched as the skin and muscle across his right hand disappeared, revealing a bone hand.
"Connor, save him," he said to himself.
He could still make a fist with the bone hand, he could still walk. Continuing onwards, he walked down a flight of stairs. He came to a living area. A crone sat on a chair close to the fire, and pointed at a door to the side. Daylen walked through it and heard the sound of battle. The screeching of opponents. He rushed forward and stopped a few feet from where the battle was taking place. A young, dark haired woman was swinging a blunt blade at rat men. They had the faces and teeth of rats, but walked on curved legs and swung clubs and maces at her. She was a reasonable swordswoman, but clearly newer than Daylen was. Carefully examining the streets, and the position of the rats, Daylen focused and aimed his magic.
Fire passed over Daenerys's head, striking at the rat that leapt at her. Then the fire swirled around her, consuming the other two. The fourth rat ran back and snarled, jumping from wall to wall. But the fire rushed towards it, burning its shoulder and knocking it off course. It fell at Daenerys feet and she raised her sword, yelling and striking the creature's neck with all her strength. The rat's neck broke and Daenerys cautiously turned towards the mage whom cast that fire spell. She looked upon the half flaking face of a man who looked as if he was half dead. But that was only for a moment, she then saw clearly his real face, his hair, scarred and burnt features. Even without that though she saw his red eyes.
"Daylen, Amell," the words came out of her mouth like a whisper.
House of the Undying
Viserys had been quiet since the vision. Visibly horrified and in shock, he remained a passive ghost through the next vision. And it was a long one, one that took them from one ship to another. A massive fleet of ships that bore the black sail and red dragon of the Targaryen house. But they had with them the red eagle of House Amell, the gold rose of House Tyrell, the golden lion of the Lannisters and the gold spear through the red sun of the Martells. Then upon a field they witnessed a battle between soldiers of these houses fighting with white robed and black armoured soldiers. Men fell to their knees, fire and electricity suddenly glowing in their hands. Fausten recognised the design of the armour the Westerosi enemies wore. They were soldiers of the Tevinter Imperium, statues of Imperium masters were being toppled, and chantries and towers alike burned.
"Is this what will be, or what could have been?" Fausten wondered.
An answer came in the form of the king and his guards. Clad in black armour, the three headed crown of a Targaryen king imbedded in the helm, the king cut through legions of the Tevinter soldiers. His guards all too, Fausten saw the custom gold markings of a Lannister amongst the white cloaks. Then when the soldiers had finally fallen, one of the guards lifted up his helmet, revealing dark eyes and darker hair.
"Jon Snow," Fausten identified the man.
Another guard removed their helmet.
"Dayk," Fausten gasped.
Finally the king removed his helmet, and revealed a silver haired youth.
"For you father," he whispered.
"Could that be whom little Aegon may have become?" Viserys asked.
"What would Rhaegar's ambitions have been if he defeated Robert?" Fausten wondered.
A white light consumed the two men, and they were on the Trident, watching the rubies fly from Rhaegar's chest. Viserys looked away, gritting his teeth together as he heard Rhaegar mutter his last words.
"Lyanna!"
Then came crying, and Viserys found himself standing in a crowd. A woman held a stone girl closely, beside her was some jester with patches on his face, then there was the hooded swordsman next to her, holding in one hand an Elvhan sword with a green blade. There was a mob, led by a woman in red.
"A priestess of the lord of light," Fausten seethed.
Light emerged from the wall, the great wall of ice that the Night's Watch guarded. When that sun rose, they were watching a griffon banner fluttering amongst cheering crowds. Then another light flashed in their eyes and they saw a Mabari hound running through fields. Both were suddenly in the water, looking at a ship. That ship had a corpse on the prow, bright blue eyes and grey lips twisted into a smile. There was a great cry, and Fausten and Viserys widened their eyes. They were in a desert, looking up at three dragons flying in the sky. One small and cream coloured, with gold leather on the wings and scales on the belly. Another was slightly bigger, and green with yellow on the wings. Then there was the bigger one, a black scaled dragon with white quills across the back of its head. The sky began to darken, something blotted out the sun. The sight horrified Viserys more than watching his own death, it was an army of drakes and drakelings flying with the three dragons.
Instead of light, darkness swirled around the two men. They were now in a tent, some hellish scream echoing in their ears. When the darkness moved on, it passed into someone standing in front of Fausten. He watched his grandson, wearing silver armour, falling to his knees. The darkness seeped through the red armour on his arm, the limb shaking as he yelled in agony. Darkness rose from Daylen's body, forming the silhouette of a red eyed dragon lingering over him. Fausten tried to reach out for Daylen, but the image passed again.
"Daenerys," Viserys called out.
Light stun Fausten's eyes again and he looked to the prince. Viserys was staring at a white haired girl, who was running to a house with a red door.
"That, was where we lived for the longest time, it truly felt like a home," Viserys said.
"What happened?" Fausten asked.
"Our guardian died, the servants tried to kill us, maybe to take what we had, or because they were paid to by the usurper," Viserys shrugged.
He had the shadow of tears in his eyes, turning away from the house and from Daenerys's happy laughing. A moment passed and the sky darkened, fires were burning. Viserys was horrified when he saw Dothraki men, women and children being butchered.
"Are those, our men?" he asked.
"Yes," Fausten said.
"What is this Fausten?"
"A vision of what I intend to do," Fausten said.
"Intend to do? Attack the Dothraki?"
"No, kill the Dothraki, every single one of them, a genocide!"
There was regret in Fausten's eyes at least. But the casualness in his voice disturbed Viserys. When the flames died down, a man in silver armoured appeared. He had blue robes on his lower legs, a helmet with wings on the side of it, his face half covered by a beak visor. A red staff was in his hand, and the hand that wasn't holding the staff was covered by grey, brown and red armour.
"Daylen?" Fausten looked at the seemingly older version of his grandson.
He saw in front of the silver warrior a pair of dead eagles, a dead black bird, and a dead robin. Tears of blood fell down the warrior's face.
"What does this mean?" Fausten demanded, looking up at the sky. "WHAT DOES THIS MEAN!" he yelled.
There was an explosion and Viserys and Fausten were knocked back. The silver warrior clashed with a warrior in red and gold, swinging a hammer with a sickle blade at the back of it. Packs of Mabari hounds and wolves attacked lions and stags around them. Another light shone in the eyes of Fausten and Viserys and they looked upon the silver warrior again, this time stood back to back with a man in red armour, wielding his flaming cross spear. A man who had the unburnt, unscarred face of Daylen Amell.
"What can be," Fausten gestured to the warrior in red. "And what may come to pass," Viserys noted something in Fausten's voice when he looked at the silver warrior, disappointment?
He wasn't sure, he just knew that these visions were fading, and he was beginning to feel his sister's presence. Her, and someone else.
Daylen stared at the woman in front of him. She looked like the woman from that vision, the woman whom seem enamoured, even fascinated by her brother's death. Now there was a fear in her eyes, but a drive too. Often Daylen asked himself if his drive was just insanity? What made his drive even greater than another's, his intentions greater than another's. He could see in this woman's eyes her own sense of dangerous self righteousness.
'Perhaps I'm the same,' Daylen thought briefly.
"We have to move onward," he said.
"What are you?" Daenerys demanded.
"Human like you, I suggest you leave this place if you can," Daylen said, walking towards Daenerys.
She raised her sword defensively, but Daylen simply walked past her.
"I don't have time for you, a child's life is at stake," he said.
"Don't turn your back to me, I am..."
"I don't care who you are, I just told you, a life is at stake," Daylen snapped, glaring over his shoulder at Daenerys.
The way his skin flaked disturbed Daenerys. Then she realised this representation of his body was falling apart. Perhaps in the waking world, another form of death awaited him. Yet still he pushed onward, punching one of the rat demons as if it was an annoyance.
'Connor, Connor, Connor,' Daylen thought as the clothes and flesh on his back fell off.
His leg shook, his the skin on his knee crumbling.
'Connor, Connor, Connor,' he thought of the boy's name.
His right eye exploded in a mist of red, leaving only darkness.
'Amelia,' he remembered the little girl taken by the demon.
'Surana,' he remembered the woman whom gave her life.
Gritting his teeth together, Daylen moved forward through a town square, moving towards the grand cathedral. Daenerys walked behind him, gently touching his shoulder.
"For a child's life," she said.
They opened the cathedral doors together and looked at the dusty and dark worship area. The tiles were black and white and had cracks in them, the stools had been covered by human skin. Daylen looked across the room, and saw Connor. He was sat down, hugging his knees. Standing over him was the woman with the white robe, the Mother. Then there was the stranger with the hat. He drew his sword as Daylen began to approach.
"Connor, I will...Connor," the skin on Daylen's jaw fell off, revealing bone.
Daylen shook his head and broke off into a run. Even as his legs turned into bone, he kept on running. Fire and lightning crackled around him as he threw these attacks at the demonic figures. Daenerys watched this man fight with everything he had. The Stranger was fast, darting around Daylen like a shadow. And the Mother, she was almost flying around the cathedral, swinging the sleeves of her robes. When they made contact with the ground, they left deep slash marks on them. Daylen dodged and summoned ice to form makeshift shields. He set his feet down and threw both his hands forward, releasing fire from his hands. The cloud of flames slammed into the blast of light the Mother threw. Then the Stranger appeared behind Daylen and swung his sword at him. Daylen turned, barely dodging in time. He threw a stone fist, throwing the stranger into the wall. But the Mother caught Daylen's back with one of her blades.
"ENOUGH!" Daenerys yelled.
She ran and swung her sword at the Mother, only for the woman to throw off her robes. The cover left Daenerys blinded, and a blade burst through the robe, covered in blood. Daenerys fell back, out of the white robe and looked at the person covered by it. Daylen threw off the robe, his single eye glaring at the Mother. She was a grotesque parody of a mother, steel was imbedded within the back of the woman's head, her strands of hair was bolted onto her scalp. She was thin yet nimble, with saggy breasts and a burst open belly, blades were fused to her arms. Daylen kicked the woman back, the blade coming out of his chest. He stretched his arms out, driving the Mother and Stranger back with fire and lightning respectively.
"Daylen," Daenerys said.
Daylen instead looked towards Connor, a clear message for Daenerys. She stood and ran towards Connor. The Stranger jumped towards her, only for Daylen to suddenly traverse the distance, propelling himself with magic and head butting the swordsman. The Mother crawled on all fours towards Daenerys, bending back to poke her belly out. It expanded like a maw, chords coming out to wrap around Connor. Daenerys grabbed the boy and snapped the chords with her blade.
"You have to wake up child, please wake up," she said to him.
She held Connor close, keeping her sword raised. Striking back she managed to catch the Mother across the face, shielding Connor from the arm blade. She suffered a slash across her back and screamed.
"You both struggle in vane!" the Mother said.
"YES! BOTH OF YOU IN VANE!"
The Desire Demon cackled as she came down from the ceiling. She knocked Daenerys away from Connor, lifting the boy over her head.
"HE IS MINE AGAIN!" she yelled.
A fist suddenly slammed into her face, and Connor fell onto Daylen's shoulder. The Mother jumped at Daylen, and he rolled to the side, dodging her strike. Then the Stranger created a bladed whip, lashing it at Daylen and striking him across the chest. The Desire demon rushed at the Stranger, only for him to swing his sword around and behead her.
"He is ours, and you, unwanted child, will be lost, forever!"
The Mother's robes wrapped around her body, returning it to a form of beauty and perfection. She created a searing, burning light, and the Stranger threw from his hand a great smog. Daylen placed Connor on the ground and stretched his arms out, layers of ice, mana and rock covering his back. The great blast that the creatures threw slammed into him, melting the floor behind him. Daylen's knees buckled for a moment, the back of his head melted, his ribs and spine were exposed and his arms hung off of their sockets.
In the waking world, Daylen yelled his arms flailing, red marks glowing across his body.
"Daylen!" Irving seethed.
"Daylen," Alistair called out.
In the Void, Daylen's body crumbled, and in its place was a shadow. Like a ghost it wordlessly turned towards the two figures.
"You have an unhealthy determination, it seems it's what landed you in trouble in the first place," the Mother said.
"That is enough," Daenerys said, stepping between the figures and Daylen.
"You cannot save them!"
"I will!"
"You are nothing but a baby dragon, a relic of a dying nation!"
The Stranger threw his hand forward, again conjuring the smog. Daenerys looked over her shoulder, seeing Daylen finally fall to his knees. She saw him change, from this Undead mess, to a scarred man. Then an optimistic teen, and then a smiling boy. She wanted to know this person, this man whom bore such pain and determination. That same determination burned in her as she turned to the Mother and her champion. Saving the boy was on her mind, making up for the murder of her niece and nephew, the death of her brother and all the wrongs that had been done to her family since.
"I am...Daenerys Targaryen!" she said.
The dye on her hair crumbled like ash, and her bright platinum locks grew and shined so bright that they illuminated the room. In her mind she could hear the roar of a dragon. And even though she did not have a dragon, yet, she knew that she was still master of the fire. Throwing her hands forward, fire suddenly shot out of her hands. The fire expanded as it hit the smog, and consumed the Stranger, burning away his clothes to reveal a skeletal shadow. That shadow seeped into the floor, leaving the Mother alone.
"And with fire and blood, my will shall be done," she said.
"FUCK YOUR FIRE AND BLOOD BITCH!" the Mother cackled.
She drew on the light again and unleashed it on Daenerys. Daylen raised his head, his eyes glowing red. Then he looked towards the Desire demon's head, his eyes taking on a purple glow. He extended his fingers, beckoning the head to come to him. A ghostly apparition flew from the head and merged with Daylen's shadow. Suddenly there was a crackle of electricity and Daylen's body began to reform.
But what Daenerys saw. What Fausten and Viserys saw, through the House of the Undying had the vaguest resemblance to Daylen. His skin was grey and had marks glowing across it like hot magma. The man's lower body was his traditional armour and robes, but a halo of electricity glowed around his demonic skin. Horns had extended from his head and he snarled.
"Yes, now this is Desire, this is WHAT I WANT!" the Desire demon spoke through Daylen's mouth.
He threw his hand forward, releasing a wave of shadows that enveloped the light. The Mother threw of her robes and flew at Daylen with her blades drawn.
"No, no," Fausten shook his head, looking at the demonic Daylen. "Not him, he can't have, my boy cannot have lost himself!"
Connor opened his eyes, seeing Daylen's back, seeing him hold back the Mother with blades of mana he had created. He gasped in horror as Daylen looked over his shoulder, his eyes appearing as they once had before. It was for the briefest moment, but enough for Connor to see who the mage was and realise what he had done for him.
"Such sweet feelings you have for that red headed woman, oooh, and the fantasies about Morrigan, I bet even you didn't know how you felt about her," the Desire demon laughed.
Daylen pushed the Mother back, the mana blades fading as he brought his hands to his head.
"What? No, you can't resist, we're joined now boy, joined you understand! And I'll do such delicious things with your desires, hero? You'll be better than a hero after I'm through!"
"DAYLEN!"
The voice came out of nowhere, it was not one that Daenerys recognised. A man's voice, stern yet fatherly.
"My boy remember, keep your wits about you!"
Then came a second voice, determined and reassuring.
"You can save him Day, I know you can!"
Finally a woman's voice, loving and devoted.
"My vision was not wrong, you are our hope!"
Daylen's hands shook as he snarled. He shook his head before digging his nails into his forehead. Black blood began to fall onto the floor as he dug his hands into the flesh, yelling in rage.
"No, NO! THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE! Unless...you allowed me only to partially possess you, SMART LITTLE BASTARD!" the Desire Demon screamed, her ghostly form appearing over Daylen.
Electricity surged through Daylen's body, but he persisted in tearing into his own flesh. The Desire demon screamed and her ghost like form recoiled in agony.
"THAT'S IT BOY! THAT'S IT!" Fausten yelled.
And like peeling off a layer of clothing, Daylen ripped off the demonic skin and revealed his human self. He roared like an animal, darkness covering his body, his red eyes shining furiously through it.
"Though darkness may hold you firmly in its grip," Fausten mused, watching his grandson with pride.
The Mother and Daylen clashed, steel and mana blades clanging together. Daylen linked his twin swords together, creating a great sword he used to knock the Mother against the wall.
"You will always seek to use darkness for righteousness, not for glory, not for a crown or honour, but because what you seek at the end of your path, IS RIGHT!" Fausten yelled.
Daenerys watched Daylen lift the sword over his head, empowering it with black flames. Then with a final yell, he crashed it through the Mother, splitting her body in two.
"DAYLEN! COME BACK TO US!" Alistair yelled.
"DAENERYS!" both Viserys and Fausten yelled.
Daylen widened his eyes in surprise as Daenerys took his hand, already holding Connor's. She smiled as the light engulfed them both.
Daylen looked at his hands, they had returned to normal. His whole body had returned to normal. And he was not in the Fade anymore, but a dark room, a castle perhaps. He looked around, his eyes resting on the woman he saw in the Void. Her hair was brown again and she was stood beside a man who could have been her brother. Then there was a third one in the room, a more familiar man.
"Grandfather," Daylen gasped.
Fausten smiled, looking at Daylen and seeing truly the man he had become.
"Well done my pride, you have fulfilled that oath you made under the moonlight," he said.
"Oath? No, that wasn't part of it, saving Connor was the right thing to do, it's what anyone should have done," Daylen said.
"That is why the very act of it makes you a hero, my boy, do you intend to spend the rest of your life trying to do good?"
"I will try, to do good and to save others, from the Blight, from a bandit, from a lord, from a king if need be, I will try to save others!"
"There it is, that beautiful determination," Fausten opened his arms as he approached Daylen.
But Daylen pushed his hands aside, shocking Viserys and Daenerys. A dark look crossed Fausten's face.
"You saw it didn't you?" he asked.
"What you intend to do to the Dothraki people? Yes I did!" Daylen narrowed his eyes at Fausten. "I didn't want to believe that it was you. I wanted to believe that you were alive for a good reason, that there was something wrong with Robert Baratheon's rule."
"You haven't met his heir," Fausten huffed.
"I want to believe that you'll see the folly, the evil in what you're planning to do. Bringing war to Westeros, destroying the Dothraki," Daylen seethed.
"Avenging Damion's death, saving Westeros from Lannister domination, freeing slaves and destroying a culture not worth preserving," Fausten stated.
"You're wrong, I could be wrong too, neither of us has the right to decide whether a culture should continue to exist or not. All I can say is that cultures and religions change with the times. The Dothraki, they may be able to change if given the chance to. As for the Baratheon and Lannister rule, can you honestly say that the Targaryens were any better? No offence to you two I'm sure you're great, being weasel like, threatening a pregnant lady and getting turned on by a very horrible death," Daylen explained, looking over at Daenerys and Viserys.
"I am Viserys Targaryen, my sister and I will one day be rulers. You saw what we could have been, and it is my vow here and now that I will not be that man," Viserys said.
"Your eyes almost makes me believe you, but actions must speak louder than words," Daylen said as he turned.
"You turn away from me, will you not embrace me whilst you can?" Fausten asked.
"No!" Daylen said coldly.
"You would choose a race of murderers and rapists over your own grandfather?" Fausten demanded.
"What do you think all conquerors start off as, the founders of Kirkwall, Ferelden, Orlais, Westeros, they were no different. I choose the children who don't know any better, the children who have a chance to be better, isn't that what everyone should strive for, to be better? That's what it means to a true warrior, a true hero, to strive to be better, I had a grandfather who understood that once," Daylen explained.
"Daylen Amell," Daenerys said, stepping forward.
Daylen didn't turn, but his actions did nothing to waver the determination in Daenerys's voice.
"I swear, that so long as I am Fausten's queen, then he will never commit genocide against the Dothraki people. As a queen, the children and women of the Dothraki will be under my protection, as will those whom swear to fight for the Targaryens," she explained.
"And so long as I am king, I will be better than that vision we saw, I will be better than my father," Viserys said.
He vowed, both dragons vowed and Daylen shook his head, but smiled.
"Find your own reasons to take back your throne, not my grandfather's revenge," Daylen said.
Fausten grit his teeth together, then stomped his foot forward.
"You will reject a friend because of their want for revenge Daylen, you will drive a friend away and one day find yourself sharing in their feelings when those you love are taken from you. If you continue to walk this path of heroism you will suffer and be proven a hypocrite," he explained.
"I will not fear the future, but I'll doubt the righteousness of my actions, that's what it means to be someone whom tries to do good. And I will never stop trying!"
Daylen disappeared and Fausten fell to his knees. He had felt rejected, felt as if he had lost his grandson for good. But also, he had never felt prouder of him.
Redcliffe
Alistair and the others waited outside, waited for Daylen to come back in. Isolde screamed with joy, holding her son tightly when he woke up. Daylen emerged from the room with his arm draped over Irving's shoulder.
"Thank you, all of you for believing in me," he said.
Alpha toppled him and Irving to the ground, licking Daylen's face.
"Beast you brought me down as well," Irving snarled.
Alistair, Leliana, Wynn and Zevran laughed whilst Morrigan shook her head and Sten simply crossed his arms together.
'Hero of Redcliffe' was the name that would forever live in the hearts of the people of that village.
None more so than Kaitlyn and Bevin, she would dedicate herself in the coming days to helping others in the Chantry, put off from joining the sisterhood only by her growing affection to Teagan. Bevin himself felt so inspired that he swung the green blade in the yard, determined to practice and one day become a warrior. None more so than Owen, whom would sober up and always hug and kiss Valena in the morning, grateful to have her alive. Valena, pushed by her brush with death would dedicate herself to appreciating her father more, and learning his trade to better support him. None more so than those whom resided within Redcliffe's tavern at one time. Berwick, whom would leave Redcliffe and dedicate himself to helping pilgrims on the road, having come to like helping others. Bella, having gained more strength from the encounter with the dead, would become more popular and loved than Lloyd and become the most successful woman in Redcliffe.
None more so than Connor. Despite his mother's protest, Connor insisted.
"One day, I will master myself, and become as great a mage as the man who saved me!"
Next Chapter 19: The handmaid and the knight
Hope everyone enjoyed the chapter, if not for the bitter reunion between Fausten and Daylen. Next time will be a Leo focus chapter, whilst Terra finally lands in Ferelden.