Inarticulate
by Cryptographic DeLurk
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AN: If the summary wasn't leading, this fic is an AU based on the since retconned epilogue to Dragon Age Awakening. Also Merrill is here, having been brought on to do research in conjunction with the Wardens by Hero of Ferelden Mahariel. Because I like Merrill and I do what I want.
Read & Relax.
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"And then we fought a broodmother, which was a lot of saggy grey tits, but she told us the Architect had started the Blight. And, in conclusion, there's a lot of very scary stuff in the Deep Roads and we should probably just set the whole thing on fire. And-" Anders tapped the chalkboard, dragging his finger between the bullet list of points. "And, uh- Oh, Maker, I'm gonna blow this presentation, aren't I?"
"Would you blow it?" Merrill asked. "Every word? You don't just plan to speak it? Maybe you could whistle it?" But her musings were idle and unenthusiastic. And she did not turn away from her task. Anders was pretty sure he had alienated his audience long ago.
"Were you not raised in academia, mage? Is it truly so difficult a task to perform, even when you are only speaking of your own experiences?" Justice sat up straighter, from where he was reclined on the table. A piece of waxed cloth came unravelled through the hole in his gut, and spilled a collection of twigs and petals over his leg.
Merrill immediately reached for his shoulder and gently guided him back. "Oh, please be still for a little longer. We are almost finished."
Justice grumbled his dissatisfaction, but complied. Merrill folded the twigs into the cloth into Justice and reached for needle and thread.
"My question stands, mage," Justice insisted. "Were you not the logical choice to present to the College?"
"Well, I suppose…" Anders hesitated. When the other choices were a near illiterate member of the Legion, a Fade Spirit inhabiting a dead man's body, and Oghren, it was hard not to be the chosen one. Plus Anders already had an in at the Circle. He had always had an in. It was an out that he had lacked, up until recently.
And he was going back. For this pile of bullet points and diagrams and scattered papers. For the Wardens. And maybe, just a little bit, for Karl. Fuck.
"…Is it a bad time to mention I spent most of my classes daydreaming about the sun and the beach and what was between my professors' legs?" Anders laughed weakly. "Really, it's a miracle they managed to teach me anything."
But neither Justice or Merrill seemed particularly interested in his wayward youth.
"There we go," Merrill said, reviewing the stitches across Justice's abdomen and up his side. "All dried out and sewn up like a satchel of potpourri."
"You have my thanks, mortal," Justice sniffed stiffly. "As unpleasant as this whole scenario has been, you have been respectful."
"Oh, it's nothing." She turned and wrinkled her nose at the set of jars laid about the floor around her. She reached for a pair of tongs and began shuffling through the set of jars. "Now where did I put the-" She halted to drag some wayward organ from a pot. "Do you think this bladder still has enough integrity to sew a waterskin from?" she asked, turning to Anders and Justice. "We used to do it with bears and goats."
Justice narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Aura said she'd like the remains back. Do you think she would like a waterskin?"
"No. That is an absolutely grotesque and terrible idea," Anders informed, as the others blinked at him owlishly. Anders would know. He was the master of terrible ideas, according to most people. He wasn't sure what it meant that, in this company, he was the sane and socially acceptable one.
Merrill's face scrunched in dissatisfaction. "Well, I suppose it's fine. I don't know much about human burial custom," she said dismissively. She lowered the bladder back into the jar, and sealed it with wax paper before continuing to look through the rest. She finally happened upon a large pot of white ash, and presented it to Justice.
"Here, if you rub your body with this before bed," she instructed. "Or when you would go to bed, if you slept."
Justice accepted the pot in both hands, huddled it to his chest. "It is Kristoff's body, not mine."
"Kristoff's body then," Merrill agreed.
Justice unlidded the pot and ran his hand through the ash, coated his forearm with it to test. "Is it poisonous to mortals?" he said unsurely, after a moment.
"The natron?" Merrill said. "In high enough concentration. The cedar bark too."
"I see," Justice said grimly. "So even now, mortals are not to touch me."
Merrill pursed her lips. She lifted a hand hesitantly, and seemed to think better of it. Her fingers curled in on themselves. "We'll get you some gloves, lethallin," she said.
"Excuse me," Anders interrupted haughtily. "Were you two not assigned to help me with my presentation?"
Merrill hummed non-committally, and began sealing the rest of the jars.
"If I am correct, it was you who was assigned to look after me," Justice announced.
"Look, I'm going to run the lecture again!" Anders pouted. "Is it really so much to ask that you two pay attention?"
"I suppose it may be unjust not to listen," Justice allowed, now free to sit up straight from his place on the table.
Merrill fussed in her seat, stacking the jars the best she could from her spot. "Oh, alright," she agreed. "Start again if you like."
"Thank you," Anders huffed. He flipped the notecards in his hand and began from the top. "Long had we believed we'd seen the extent of what the Old Gods wrought upon the Golden City. For their sins against the Maker, cast out in their place…"
The lecture continued like this for a while, with required amount of religious scripture to endear his audience before launching into the details of the awakened darkspawn and Anders's meetings with the Architect. Anders found himself reciting it by rote. It was only what the Circle had spent years drilling into his head – the horrors of Tevinter and magic and those who turned away from the will of the Maker.
So the lecture was boring. And, truthfully, he could not blame Merrill and Justice for being bored by it. Even the parts that had once held interest for him – battles with dragons and broodmothers recorded in accounts with all mention of heathens and spirits and blood mages carefully edited out – now nearly sent him crying with ennui.
His eyes darted around Merrill's workshop, high in the east tower of Vigil's Keep. It was unlike any mage's workshop he had ever seen – although he'd had few chances to observe any outside the purview of Circle and its Templars. Oh, there were shelves of books and scrolls, jars and samples of herbs and pipettes, and the worktable and accompanying stool that Justice and Merrill were seated on respectively. Merrill had a set of vials where she had separated samples of Warden blood into its constituent components, which reminded Anders a little too much of phylacteries. But there was also a potted tree that was growing out through the window, a plush warm rug in red and green on the floor, several hammocks for sleeping, and Merrill's creepy mirror in the corner, next to her armoire.
It felt like a home. Perhaps because it was one.
Anders looked at Merrill, who had pulled her knees to her chest and was now picking at her toes. At Justice, who had rotten arms crossed over rotten chest, newly sewn. His face was solemn and serious, and he met Anders's gaze head on. And all the people he'd see later that day – Warden Commander Mahariel and Oghren and Nate and Sigrun and Velanna and Wade and Harren and the Glavonak brothers.
He couldn't help it. In his head, he rehearsed the speech he really wanted to give.
So I made it out, Karl. Free of the Circle, just like I always wanted. And it only took signing myself up to trudge around in the Deep Roads for the rest of my now-unnatural-born life.
There are a lot of us, quite the motley crew. But all a good sort, so far as I can tell. They stood with me against the Templars, at least. And the Commander is the Hero of Ferelden! Which makes me someone important – her personal mage to boss around! You always said if I was more agreeable I might find some noble to sponsor me. Well, that shows you! I was my usual charming self and the Arlessa of Amaranthine picked me up – so there!
I have to say, though, I thought working under three feisty elven women would be- well, not less tiring- but more tiring in a sexier sort of way. Could use a little less bossing around like- Anders, give me a barrier! Anders, toss some lightning at that genlock! Anders, gather me ten samples of elfroot, five samples of rashvine nettle, and an ugly nug for blood sacrifice! And a little more bossing around like- Anders, you beast, get over here and ravish me right now! You know what I mean?
Although he didn't really know where he stood with Merrill, did he?
Merrill's mind had fully wandered from the presentation now, and Anders watched as she stuffed cloves and sprigs of rosemary through a hole in Justice's cheek and whispered at him to chew.
Except for where her research and her mirror were concerned, Merrill always seemed have her head in the clouds, and never responded to his flirting. But at the last banquet, Anders had gotten terribly drunk. And after Nathaniel had shoved a hand over Anders's puckered lips, after Velanna punched him in the gut for reaching for her waist, Merrill had been quite pleased to sit in his lap for the better part of an hour, talking across the table to a stupefied Seneschal Varel, as Anders groped her chest and kissed her neck.
Although she hadn't mentioned it since, and acted the same as ever, so perhaps it didn't mean anything.
Don't I sound stupid, Karl? I never used to wonder if a little necking meant anything.
But then it couldn't mean anything in the Circle, could it? Never knew who was going to turn up dead or tranquil the next day? Justice calls me an unscrupulous tramp, but he also keeps saying what a great injustice has been done to me. He says a lot of things like that.
Oh, Justice! I never explained, did I? He's this Fade spirit – completely different from Compassion. I wish I could introduce you! You'd have fun debating with him, more fun than I am at any rate. You always were the cerebral and articulate one.
And Pounce-! I can't believe I forgot about him. I finally got a cat! A Ser Pounce-a-Lot in the flesh! He's not a Templar-eating tiger, regrettably. But he's very fierce regardless!
But- I digress- The necking. Even if it couldn't, it did mean something, with you, you know? But you know that already… I hope you know that. I hope you never doubted it.
I guess what I mean to say is, I'm happy, I think? Most of the time at any rate. Is it okay that I'm happy, when you are… where you are? I hear such terrible things about Kirkwall's Circle.
I mean… Can I do anything for you?
I'd say you should join the Wardens. But not everyone makes it through the Joining, and I'm not sure how much you want to be committed to digging through darkspawn infested tunnels for the rest of your life. You were never much for outdoorsiness. But-! Just say the word, and I'll put in a good word for you with the Warden Commander!
No, no, I didn't think you would take me up on the offer.
…I miss you.
I love you.
"I think these events may be taken as a warning for things to come. Consider that, without further research into the activities and variation in darkspawn, we cannot know how soon the next Blight will strike or who among us will be endangered at its hands," Anders gave a stiff bow. "The, uh, Wardens thank you for your attention."
Justice clapped three brusque strikes against his right palm. Merrill startled, and seemed to realise belatedly that Anders was finished speaking and attempted to make up for it with a more enthusiastic flurry of applause.
"It appears sufficient," Justice said courteously.
"Yes, it's very, um, long," Merrill offered.
"Honestly!" Anders demanded. "Neither of you has any other feedback to offer?"
Merrill's face screwed in concentration. "Well, since you're making up so much of it anyhow – taking out Velanna and Justice and I – maybe you should consider adding in a griffin. A heroic one that swoops in and saves the day! I think that might make the story more exciting."
"Injustice," Justice said. "Adding in more lies is not atonement for the lies already present."
Merrill pouted. "Perhaps you should consider the purpose of the presentation," she said, changing directions. "I think Lyna is hoping this will convince the Circle to provide more manpower and supplies for the Grey Wardens. Perhaps you could try to make it more persuasive to that effect."
"I believe the speech is sufficient," Justice said. "You should focus on it less, and focus more on how to use your time in the Circle to benefit your fellow mages and work towards their freedom!"
"Oh!" Merrill bounced enthusiastically in her seat. "And while you're there, perhaps you can see if you can find any information on the Eluvian! Humans are always hoarding the knowledge they've taken from the People. See if you can take some of it back!"
"Another injustice to be righted!" Justice proclaimed.
"Andraste's knicker weasels! You all are no help at all!" Anders threw his hands up. "Here I am worried out of my skull about heading back to the Circle, but you all are just pushing your own agendas!"
"What is it you're worried about, lethallin?" Merrill said, voice softening.
Apprentices and Enchanters still angry with him for the increased security after his multiple escape attempts. Irving and Greagoir attempting to pal around with him, now that he was a celebrated hero, as if they had never locked him in solitary. Templars cuffing him on the side of the head as he passed. Templars cuffing other mages on the side of the head, and being able to do nothing but watch. Starting to hyperventilate and not being able to make his presentation because he was locked in the privy trying to calm down.
What he was going to say to Karl if he was there.
The questions he was going to have to ask if Karl wasn't there.
The answers he might receive to those questions.
"What am I not worried about?" Anders squeaked.
Merrill fixed him with a pitying look, but Justice spoke.
"The Commander and Nathaniel will be there with you. They will see to it that you come to no harm."
"What if I-?"
"You will do fine, mage," Justice said firmly. "You are competent, and well-spoken, and an accomplished member of the Wardens. Whatever complications arise, you will be able to meet and overcome them. I have utmost faith in you."
Justice, Anders had found, was almost impossible to disagree with. Anders searched for some rebuttal, some protest, and when he found none he felt tears start to bead in the corner of his eyes. "I- I'll be right back." He stacked his notecards on the side of the chalkboard, and rushed for the door. He needed some time to be alone.
Justice watched Anders flee with some solemnity. "I did not intend to upset him." He frowned.
"I do not think you did," Merrill said. She was stacking the jars containing Kristoff's organs, and she got up to arrange them against the back wall.
"Mortals cry when they are sad."
"They also cry when they are happy," Merrill informed.
"Mortals are very strange," Justice mused, not for the first time.
Merrill hummed her agreement.
It was quiet, and Justice took a moment to enjoy this strangeness of this place. He had not stopped being fascinated by its sharp edges and bright colours – the way the entire realm seemed like it might burst into light and song at any moment.
He looked out Merrill's window, where her tree curled and obstructed the closing of the pane. Cold air flowed inside, and all the more necessitated the constant burning in the workshop's fireplace. Snow had collected on the tiered roof of the Keep. Merrill had informed both him and Sigrun, to their combined delight, that the pattern of each snowflake was unique.
Sigrun accepted everything with effervescent and contrary cheer. Nathaniel rationalised. Oghren drank. Velanna was constantly angry. Lyna was cold and firm and unyielding in her work. Merrill retreated into her dreams. Anders joked and laughed and then broke down.
There was no mortal he had met that had not experienced injustice. But some injustices seemed larger, others smaller. Many seemed impossible to measure, or compare. For some, it seemed, there was no recourse and no way of righting. But Justice would not believe that – he couldn't!
"Are the injustices done to the Dalish worse than the injustices done to mages?" Justice asked.
Merrill seemed to take the question easily enough. "I am not sure if one is better and another worse," she said. "The templars steal mages from Dalish camps as well, so they are not even entirely separate."
"Injustice," Justice fumed under his breath. He had learned that mortals did not always appreciate being interrupted in their speech as he catalogued the injustices they casually relayed to him. He tried to be quiet, but he could not help himself this whisper. He was thinking of families ripped apart – the way Kristoff's family had been ripped apart.
Merrill had approached the chalkboard Anders had rolled into the room for his presentation. She idly corrected a few misspellings and rearranged bullet points, and had then quickly been distracted. Now she was doodling flowers and ivy down the edge of the board. "All I can say is that I have chosen, and some things are not my fight," she finished apologetically.
"To choose seems unjust," Justice said warily. "To ignore what you know is wrong."
Nathaniel, Velanna, perhaps even Anders might have argued with him. They often did when he was critical of them. Justice enjoyed the clash of wits, the depth and intricacy of their perspectives.
Merrill simply sighed. "Do you know why I use blood magic?"
"It is an injustice," Justice said. "A practice taught by demons, for selfish interest. It is wrong to commodify the lifeblood of mortal men, even your own."
This was Justice's way of saying he did not understand.
"You'll come to understand someday," Merrill said, leaving the chalkboard to come sit at his side. "One day you will know something that is worth all of yourself and any price that could ever be paid. And then you'll know why we choose our fights, and why I use my blood, and why demons are as they are."
Justice shifted in his seat. Anders and Nathaniel had each implied as much. But something about Merrill's directness made the subject more palatable than their idle prodding. "I hope such a day never comes."
"I hope it does, lethallin, for your sake," Merrill said softly. "Though, truth be told- I've seen how you look at the forest and the sky, at baubles of lyrium and the flakes in Sigrun's snowglobe, and at Aura and at him." She nodded at the door, where Anders had departed. "So I believe that day has already arrived."
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