Finally finished it and got it out.
I'm sorry about how much time it took, and I especially apologize to CaedmonCoulsand, to whom I told that this chapter would be out by last Friday.
I do not own Dragon Age or the Fate Series,
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Enjoy!
Chapter 7: Fire
Silence permeated the dining hall after I finished telling my tale, and those that had stayed for the entirety of my telling looked at me with different expressions of shock. Father's eyes were wide and his mouth gasping for words that wouldn't come, Mother had tears in her eyes as she tried to see through my tunic to see the large scars underneath, Oren had fallen asleep halfway through my tale and Oriana had carried him to bed, Uncle Rendon had begged off to bed not long Oren had succumbed to slumber, and Warden Duncan was staring at me intently while his recruit just stared at me with wide eyes.
When Father finally found his voice, it came out hoarse and wracked with emotion. "Son, please don't tell such outlandish stories. It worries your mother and I."
"Father." I frowned at the man who raised me, and I unbuttoned the top buttons of my tunic. "It pains me immensely that you would think that I would lie to either of you about something like this."
Then I pulled down slightly at my unfastened tunic revealing the top of a very large scar, and Mother jumped from her chair and wrapped me in a desperate hug. Tears fell from the eyes that she passed onto me, and her hand grasped at me as if I might turn into sand before her very eyes. And from her lips came a jumble of words, but only bits of pieces of it made any sense to Father or me.
"Stupid! Stupid!" … "I did not go through hell for you to throw your life away to a dragon!" … "Where in Andraste's name did I go wrong in raising you!?"
Father on the other hand contemplated my words, his hand on his chin and his eyes silently surveying my attempts to comfort or placate her. As I gazed back at him, his blue orbs flickered from mother and I to my sheathed great-sword then back, no doubt trying to fathom the dragon-slaying weapon. After a few more seconds of thinking Father rubbed the bridge of his nose before making eye contact with me again.
"I'm sorry Artorias." He apologized. "I did not mean to imply that you were lying to us, but no parent wants to hear about how their child nearly got killed by a giant fire-breathing lizard, pup."
I smiled at Father's attempt to lighten the mood and with a nod I accepted his apology. Turning my attention to Mother, I wrapped my arms around her and whispered my apology to her.
"I'm sorry I worried you Mother, the last thing I ever meant to do was hurt you. But I'm fine now and stronger than ever."
Mother needed a few more moments to compose herself and after she did so her hands instantly began fussing with my now white hair. "So, your hair and skin color are different because of the dragon's blood?"
"Yes." I answered. "Normal high dragon blood has powerful alchemical properties even after being preserved for centuries on end, but even amongst high dragons Fafnir was different. Draconologists who came to study Fafnir's corps shared with me that Fafnir was likely a very ancient Abyssal High Dragon that mutated over the centuries, and that my change of hair and skin color was a result of her fresh, alchemically chaotic blood drenching my skin and mixing with my blood through the wounds she inflicted in my chest."
"Were there any side effects?" Duncan suddenly blurted out, speaking for the first time since I began my story. His question cut-off both Mother and Father, but after hearing his question they merely exchanged glances before gazing at me expectedly.
"Yes, there have been side effects and I'm still not sure if I have come to recognize all of them yet." I grimaced, hoping they wouldn't had brought up the topic. "Other then the surface changes my skin is now much harder to cut than it was before, and I'm much physically stronger than before. I've also noticed that I don't get tired as quickly in a fight as I did before killing Fafnir, but I don't know if that is because of my changes or because of my continued training."
Duncan seemed to accept my answer and had an expression of deep thinking on his face, as did my parents. With the room silent for a few moments I waved down a servant to fill my goblet with some more wine and bring me another serving of, now cold, pig. However, before I could take a bite a bubbly, beautiful voice broke the room's silence.
"What happened to Fafnir's body?" The young woman sitting next to Duncan blurted out, and promptly blushed at her outburst.
"Well." I drew out with a smile as I set down my silverware, ready for another round of questions. "After the draconologists studied her and took some small studies to take back with them to the University of Orlais, my new Order and I harvested her. Her skull currently occupies an honored place above my chair in The Order's headquarters, while I and most of my high-ranking officers and knights wear armor made, at least partially, out of her bones or scales. Within the Order's ranks there are twenty swords that were made from Fafnir's claws, and their wielders serve as my honor guard when I go into battle. And the Order currently is preserving a large amount of her blood for any future recruits that wish to become reavers."
The woman, whom I know noticed had a mage's staff leaning next to her seat, looked both impressed and slightly saddened as I counted off how much Fafnir now did for the Order of Balmung in death. Her mismatched eyes looked longingly at my armor and gauntlets for a moment before she seemed to push whatever she had been thinking from her mind.
"You wouldn't have enough of her bones left to forge an ultra-powerful and totally magnificent staff from, would you?" She joked half-heartedly.
Ah…that explains it.
"I might." I took a sip from my goblet, watching as her expression lit up despite her comment being a jest, more than an actual question. "But first, might I know your name?"
Her beautiful face instantly went scarlet, when she realized that she had just asked someone she barely knew for an incredibly rare recourse without even introducing herself. My parents laughed lightly, and I chuckled at the young woman's sudden blush, and even Duncan's solemn expression broke into a small grin.
"I apologize, my lord." The mage returned a smiled sheepishly. "I am Shiara Amell, a Grey Warden recruit from Ferelden's Circle of Magi."
My smile covered up my surprise at her words and when I took another look at her, I did so under a new light. Her eyes, while beautiful and different colors, held a determination in them that not many could claim, and she held herself in a manner that spoke of a newfound pride.
I wonder, is she a volunteer or a conscript? I'm inclined to say volunteer.
"How did you join the Wardens, Miss Amell."
"Please call me Shiara. Miss Amell sounds too much like what my tutors were mad at me." We both laughed at her small joke, before she continued. "As for how I joined the Wardens…it is complicated, my lord."
Shiara's bright eyes dimmed slightly as the weight of whatever befell her before coming here, again settled on her shoulders. Sighing at the hard look my parents were now giving me I took another, bigger sip of my wine and smiled kindly at the woman.
"We all have things we'd rather not talk about, Shiara. And while we have time if you wish to tell us, and I promise to listen to your whole story before making judgments, you do not need to share anything with us if you don't feel comfortable doing so."
Shiara and Duncan's gazes bore into me with severity before breaking so that they could make eye contact with each other. A silent conversation was made between the two of them which ended with Duncan nodding his head in some sort of confirmation before he spoke again.
"Shiara, all that I can promise you is that I have known the Teyrn and Teyrna for years, and they are both good, fair people."
The former Circle Mage took another moment to compose herself and take a deep breath before steeling her nerves and speaking.
"Duncan conscripted me before the Templars of my Circle could execute me, though I had shared with him my interest in joining the Grey Wardens. One of my friends had been afraid that he would be put through the Right and had asked me for help in destroying the Templar's means of tracking him, but when we were caught he revealed that he practiced blood magic and used it to escape, leaving me and our other accomplice to be caught by the Templars. Because he revealed himself to be Blood Mage the Templars had to take into consideration that I might also be one as well. It is only through Duncan's intervention that I escaped the Sword of Mercy."
"You poor dear." Mother sighed softly, leaving my side and wrapping the young woman in a caring hug. "I'm sorry that you had to go through that."
"Miss Amell." Father intoned softly, staring into his goblet of wine as he absently swirled it in his hand. "As you are now destined to become a Grey Warden, a protector of all of Thedas, I cannot say that your life will be easy from here on. I cannot, in good consciousness lie to you in such a way, but I can say that as long as a Cousland rules Highever the Grey Wardens and their allies will always be welcomed within these walls. Please feel free come visit whenever you need assistance."
As Shiara's eyes started to water slightly an… interesting conversation I had with Alissa Bessren, whom I worked with on occasion after being granted the Order of Balmung, came to the forefront of my mind.
"Wait just a second." I protested with wide eyes. "Most Magi Circles don't allow mages to visit their families or have families of their own!?"
Alissa seemed pleased with my incredulousness at the mere idea if her grateful smile meant anything. Her naked body slowly leaning down over mine might also have something to do with my conclusion as well.
"Unfortunately." She whispered into my ear as her hands worked on removing the buckle from my breaches. "Nevarra is different from the rest of Thedas because of the importance the Mortalitasi in our culture, and the Nevarran Circles allow mages to raise their children and marry anyone other than nobility. Everywhere else, except for in Tevinter, when a female mage has a child; Templars will take the child away as soon as the child is healthy enough to travel to be raised in far away Circle or a Chantry orphanage."
"That is absolutely horrible!" I snarled, my eyes narrowing, the colors of the world around me losing some of its vibrancy but the small details becoming much easier to focus on. Everything only went back to normal as Alissa draped her bare arms around my neck and planted a tender kiss into the side of my neck.
"I'm thankful that you care about the wellbeing of us mages, and of myself. It shows that you are a better man then most, and it is because of this that I have decided that I want this." Alissa's tanned face, shadowed by her rich brown hair that spilled from her head in lovely waves, lit up as a light pick blush shone on her face. "Artorias, would you please give me a family? I want a child; would you please give me one? We might never be able to marry because I have magic and you were a noble before you nearly got yourself killed slaying and ancient dragon, but if you were the father of my child I would be content knowing that his or her father loved them even if they were born with magic."
Alissa's chocolate brown eyes stared longingly into my sea-green for a moment as silence befell my grand bedroom. Then I allowed a loving smile to overtake my usual expressionless mask and I pulled Alissa into a tender kiss.
With how most Circles are run, I imagine that Shiara doesn't have much experience with motherly or fatherly support.
As Mother and Father spoke encouragingly with the Warden Recruit, I turned my attention to her Commander and rescue.
"You did a good thing Commander Duncan." I spoke softly and raised my glass in salute of the man. "In a just world no person would be punished for trying to protect their friend from a fate worse than death."
Duncan's brow rose slightly in intrigue even as he nodded his head in thanks. "You are aware of what the Right of Tranquility entails?"
"You could say that." I mused slightly as I thought about all the time I spent with both Alissa and Brydrin individually, and the time the three of us spent together. "Let us just say that after I slew Fafnir, I spent a lot of time with quite of few mages; Circle and otherwise."
Again, Duncan looked at me thoughtfully, this time stoking his beard lightly, and my comment seemed to catch Shiara's attention after she regained her composure.
"That reminds me Lord Cousland." Shiara looked confused for the first time since I meet her. "With how much importance that the Nevarran King put on killing Fafnir, I can't imagine that you and your companions weren't rewarded for your services."
Instantly I palmed my face, embarrassed by my own forgetfulness.
"I can't believe I forgot to mention that." I whispered mostly to myself, but I wouldn't be surprised if the other heard me. "Well first, King Markus granted me nobility equal to the rank of Duke. Then he decided that as Fafnir's killer all the treasure that she had hoarded were mine to do with as I wished, though I had it split in thirds and gave one third to Brydrin and one third to Marius. And lastly, King Markus formed Order of Balmung and anointed me as its first Grandmaster, and that my new Order would only answer to me and the Crown of Nevarra."
And again, everyone in the room was left speechless at my accomplishments.
"Artorias." Father questioned slowly. "Why exactly did you return to Ferelden at a time like this?"
"I thought it would be obvious Father." I huffed at Father's subtle disapproval. "When I heard that Ferelden was under threat from the Darkspawn and word reached my ear of a Blight, I wanted to leave immediately to protect my Homeland. I only took so long because most of the Order of Balmung volunteered to accompany me and help protect what I held dear. They should be setting up a temporary camp along the Wounded Coast, and once I have your permission, Father, I will lead them to Ostagar so that we might assist the King."
"Absolutely not!" Mother's face had reddened with indigent and motherly rage, and our identical eyes locked in a battle of wills. "I have already sent one of my sons to fight Darkspawn in the south, I will not allow my only other child to do the same!"
Mother and my silent battle continued when I didn't immediately capitulate with her wish. For what felt like an eternity our wills and wishes battled and everyone in the room felt as the air in the dinning room turned tense. In the end the battle resulted in a draw, as Father broke up the thick atmosphere with his calm words.
"I think on that note we all should get some sleep. We can discuss this matter later, after everyone's tempers have cooled, and no matter our decisions the marrow will be a busy one that will require us all to have had an adequate night sleep to deal with."
And there it is, the reason Father was almost king. Even with a prince of Therin blood healthy and hearty.
Growing up with the man it was sometimes easy to forget just why Father was so well regarded. All Ferelden families; whether they hailed from alamarri or avvar blood, whether they were descended from those who fought for or against Calenhad, or whether they assisted or resisted the Orlesians I the occupation and rebellion, respected the Cousland name and what it represented. Combine that with that reputation with Fathers time-tested wisdom, unwavering drive, and known dedication to the whole of Ferelden got you a man was a king in all but name and blood. Father was knowledgeable to be a king, but had the humility not to take the position, and it was at moments like this that I could see why.
"In that case," I stood slowly from my seat and stretched quietly, though not quiet enough that faint popping noised couldn't be heard from my back. "I will retire to my room. Commander Duncan I hope have a pleasant dreams and a good night's sleep."
Absently I noted that the Warden Commander seemed to grimace at that that remark, but I filed that tidbit away for another day.
"Shiara, I wish the same for you and I promise that I will see about getting you bone of Fafnir's carved into a staff for you. Please consider it as a congratulatory gift for joining the Grey Wardens."
The young woman didn't flinch at the mention of sleep like her new superior, which I filled away as well, and in fact brightened considerably at the prospect of getting such a powerful new weapon.
"Mother, Father, I wish you a good night."
Then, after draining what was left in my goblet, I picked up Balmung from where the blade was propped up and whistled to get Chulainn's attention. I planted a kiss on both of my parent's cheeks, along with brief hug, before exiting the dining room for my old bedroom. My loyal mabari curled himself at the side of my bed ready to fall asleep as soon as I did so, and after quickly undressing I allowed myself to fall roughly onto my bed, reveling in the nostalgia it brought to my mind, before falling asleep within minutes of my head touching my pillow.
The smell of smoke and fire and blood, and the sound of screaming and barking roused me from unconsciousness, and for one long second, I thought I was back in Fafnir's lair about to be fried by her impossibly hot flames.
Then my eyes refocused to show my old room in Castle Cousland and my loyal war dog barking urgently, his attention rapidly switching from me to the room's door. Chulainn's look was one of anger and concern, and when I heard a loud bang and cursing as who ever was outside the door realized that said door was lock my hand instantly snatch the hand of Balmung from where it rested just next to my bed.
"Com'on, lets jus break open the door. Te litt'l lordling wil be easy killins." A nasally voice carried through the wooden door as I sprung to my feet, drawing my huge dragon slaying blade from its sheath.
Not a moment latter my bedroom door burst inwards as two armed men rushed in, their weapons held high as they charged me with gleeful bloodlust shining through their eyes. One man wielded a hand-axe in one hand with a small buckler adorning his free hand, while the other only had a plain straight sword raised high ready for a heavy downward strike.
They both died in less them ten seconds.
The man with the sword was faster than his more heavily armed companion and as such entered my range of attach first of the two. As Balmung cut through his legs above the knees, his face couldn't even keep up with the pace of events or come to terms with why he was headed face first for the stone floor. He only realized what was happening to him when Chulainn pounced on the hapless target and ripped his throat out with savage efficiently. The man didn't even have time to scream in fear or pain before he no longer could.
Similarly, the second man couldn't comprehend how quickly I had dispatched his comrade, and his mistake coasted him. After bringing my blade out of the arc that had dis-legged the first man, I brought my weapon in close to my body and lined it's point up with my line of sight. Then, with a push and twisting motion, Balmung lashed forward faster than even a snake could lunge. The second man blinked absently as he lost a feeling below his neck, and when he looked down to see what was wrong blinked again when he saw that my sword had pierced right through his buckler and more then half of the blade buried itself into his gut. The man would have been able to get a scream out if I hadn't quickly pulled Balmung out of its temporary sheath, and, with a spin, removed his head from his shoulders.
Before I had even finished beheading the man I was considering my next move, only for a horrid though sprung into my head.
Orianna and Oren sleep in the room right across from me!
And before the dead man's head stopped rolling I was sprinting out of my room, aiming from the closed wooden door across the hall from mine.
Three more enemies occupied the hallway that separated my room from my sister-in-law's, but I barely payed them any mind. One enemy feel dead as I left my room, felled by an arrow to the eyes fired from my Mother who stood at the door to her and Father's room. The second was cut in two pieces evenly from waist and screamed in pain and terror as Chulainn fell upon him in a snarling rage. And the last's sword shattered into so many pieces of cheap metal trying to block my downward swing, his body finally split evenly in half from cranium to crotch as my shoulder made contact with Orianna's door and said door flew off its hinges.
Inside a bloody, but alive Halava Tabris stood protectively in front of a terrified, but equally alive Oren on the left side of the room. On the right side of the room a man dressed in the same armor as the ones that I had already slew stood over the dead body of my sister-in-law, his sword still wedged deep into her breast, right where her kind heart should have beated.
At the sight the world lost color but gained an incredible amount of detail and I charged the murderer with a snarl that would have sounded more at home coming from a dragon.
Soooo... whatcha think? One reviewer expressed interest in how this part of the story would change with Cousland's changes, and they may have seen something like this outcome occurring, but how about the rest of yall? Predictable? Surprising? Interesting? Boring?...
Well, sorry again about the wait, but I hope you all can just consider that the chapter was worth the wait. Any constructive criticism is welcome and feel free to PM if you have questions, but I will be vague on plot details.
I'm just realizing that I might read too much fanfiction to be effective fanfiction writer. Within the time between my last post and this post I have read though two who stories and taken a big chunk out of a third.
If your curious about what caught my interest the fics are:
Herwald Von Einzberg and the Philosopher Stone/and the Chamber of Secrets. (A Harry Potter and Fate/Stay Night crossover)
Paleblood. (A DanMachi/Bloodborne crossover.)
Both stories are incredibly entertaining and well thought out, and both take their respective series' in interesting directions. I really recommend them.
Anyway I hope you enjoyed the chapter and are looking forward for the next one!
Glader out!