Dawn broke on a contrastingly beautiful day. The weather was clear, a coastal breeze cooled Denerim, and not a single bird shattered the peace.
No, not even one.
The few Ash Warriors present shifted restlessly in place, sensitive to their dogs' silent focus. No audible wildlife usually meant an incoming storm sent by the Maker himself – or something worse. Given the cloudless sky and the blanket of armour standing at attention across Denerim, no living creature aboveground had doubts on what calamity was fast approaching:
The archdemon and its horde.
Carver glanced on either side of himself, then to the horizon towards Denerim's landmarks. Given the warden's party had developed marginal relations with Ferelden's foreign allies, Carver had contributed to battle strategy by positioning certain party members to lead separate legions.
Leliana secured Fort Drakon with Clan Siona, as Denerim's civilians had been moved to the fort's underground levels for the battle. Even should the fort be flattened, the people would be safe. Wynne guarded Denerim's west gate with the Circle's forces. Oghren held the north gate with the Legion of the Dead. The king's army and all of its legions — including the Cousland, Howe, and Kendells legions — were stationed outside of Denerim's walls. The Grey Wardens under Duncan formed concentric rings from the vanguard of the king's army, all the way inwards to the centre of Denerim.
Among the wardens was an Orlesian captain named Thom Rainier, who was assigned to Gordon's side in the outermost circle. Either Gordon was impressed by Thom's ability, or Thom was eager to impress him. Carver still felt like he should have seen that one coming. Outside of Ferelden, it was common practice to refer to people by their surnames if any, rather than their first names. He should have asked for Gordon's full name on first mention.
Regardless, the plan was to hold off the horde from invading Denerim, while baiting the archdemon into Fort Drakon's sights. At the top of the tower were Elissa and Alistair, where they would direct Fort Drakon's ballistas to ground the archdemon into an open area of the city.
It had been a choice between the docks and the market square. Given both battlefields could threaten Denerim's economy, but only one would require warriors to know how to swim, Ferelden's forces had been ordered to aim for downing the archdemon in the market square.
There, Faren and Shale awaited to finish off the archdemon.
Carver stood responsible for watching Faren and Shale's backs. It was entirely possible that a smaller army of darkspawn would concurrently dig their way into Denerim from below, and with a significant warden presence in the city, the darkspawn had a beacon. To prevent communication from breaking down at infrastructural choke points, Carver and his party had to be able to quickly lend support to Leliana, Wynne, Oghren, and the Wardens while still prioritising Faren and Shale's immediate safety. For that reason, Carver called on Sten, Zevran, and Morrigan to help him.
Elissa also kindly assigned Dog to the party.
Loghain assigned a squadron of Shielders and soldiers from the royal legion.
Zevran chuckled next to Carver. "I did not expect that when I went out to seek death, I would instead find a friend. Now, for a true friend like you, I would gladly storm the Dark City itself. Do not doubt it."
Carver groaned, though his lips twitched upwards. "Please, Zev, not now. I was just starting to psyche myself up."
Sten eyed them. "You two shared close words last night as well?"
Morrigan snorted.
"Just words," Carver sternly stated. "For what it's worth, I've privately spoken with each of you."
Satin snickered from behind. "That's our captain."
"Shields up!" Carver suddenly roared.
––BOOM.
In one stroke, lightning split Drakon River and two of its four bridges, nearly culling the southern half of Denerim from the northern half. The blast threw most of Carver and his party off their feet, while those who managed to hunker down in time left a scar in the cobblestoned street where they had stood.
Everyone picked themselves up, only for riverwater and dirt to lash their faces and press down on their shoulders. Carver stumbled but was caught by Dog.
"Archdemon!" Carver shouted.
Dog darted ahead and caught a soldier by her arm before she could drown in the river. The soldier cried out in pain and shock, but recognised the help and painfully crawled up-bank for solid ground. Carver whipped his head around to check on his squadron as a leathery flap of wings could be heard but not seen.
Morrigan hurried to him, her skin laced with shallow cuts. "What's wrong?"
"The bridges," Carver panted, then raised his voice. "Secure the bridges!"
Morrigan ran after him as Sten, Zevran, and Dog hastily followed. The soldiers were running the other direction as ordered. "They're gone, Carver!"
"They're down," Carver corrected, hurrying to the closest ring of wardens he could recall. "Darkspawn can't swim, but they can cross unstable paths without fear. Wardens, darkspawn ahead!"
SHRIIEEEEK––
The archdemon's gargantuan body suddenly swept low over everyone's heads, sucking the air and sunlight out from between buildings. The river curled up with a clap.
––TWANG.
Just in time for a massive bolt to strike the waters, clipping the archdemon. The dragon pitched up into a building with outstretched claws and vaulted at a steep angle, cleanly dodging a second bolt.
––TWANG.
The rising sun returned blindingly, capturing the building's collapse into the river. Above the din, Carver could hear feral darkspawn sprouting from the ground.
"It's creating more paths for the darkspawn!" Morrigan cried out.
Sten growled. "And heading for the wardens!"
Of course, because Fort Drakon watched the sea –– and the river.
"No matter what," Carver grit his teeth, "we need it to land in the market square––!"
Zevran suddenly burst into laughter. That was when another roar could be heard above the chaos, quickly rising and distinctly dwarven. Carver, his party, and a line of wardens gaped in an arc as Shale stomped through a building into view and swung her arm straight at the tower, to which Faren somersaulted in full armour.
"No friggin' way," a warden gawked.
The archdemon deftly dipped a wing to sweep up and towards the tower, sharply dodging yet another bolt, only for Faren to smack into its back like a fly. The dragon hastily flapped its wings, gaining altitude and blocking everyone's view of Faren's fate while it screeched.
––TWANG-G-G-G.
A volley of bolts suddenly flew at it from Fort Drakon, all shedding blood and three piercing scaled armour. Elissa and Alistair had lured the dragon into a pattern, only to trip it up in the last minute.
KRAAAAH!
Carver drew his sword just in time to save his neck as darkspawn descended from all sides. He couldn't track the aerial battle anymore, focused now on the heat of close combat. Sten split an ogre's chest open and Zevran blinded three genlocks with his swords while the archdemon shook the sky with furious cries. An emissary threw a sheet of ice across a street, only for a giant spider to leap at it and tear the spindly darkspawn in half.
Morrigan shifted back into human form, whipping out her staff to trip Zevran's genlocks from behind.
Zevran stared as she spontaneously combusted the genlocks. "Anyone else have an astonishing side to them hidden? How about you?" He narrowed his eyes down at Dog.
"Move, elf," Morrigan muttered with a toss of lightning past him.
––SHRIIEEEEK––––
BOOM!
The ground shook as a wave of dust suddenly slammed over the battlefield. Carver spun around a darkspawn and glanced at Morrigan's flames as he beheaded it. The impact had come from the east. A glance aside confirmed his suspicions when he caught Duncan splitting off from the battle for Denerim's docks.
Maker, no!
Carver panted and vaulted over the ogre's corpse. He surgically slashed aside a hurlock in his path. Nothing was going according to plan. While the silhouette of Fort Drakon could still be seen standing, the faint trail of dragon leather fluttering through the air told Carver enough. Faren must have shredded the archdemon's wings with his weapons and sent the dragon crashing into the docks – as for how Faren could have landed, Carver didn't know. Hopefully safely.
"Secure the docks!" Carver shouted as he ran after Duncan, anticipating someone would hear him.
The last thing he needed were darkspawn ambushing a battle against the archdemon. Carver cut through an unaddressed horde of darkspawn he could hear gathering up after him, fortunate enough to have Duncan's bloody trail to track. The warden could sense exactly where the archdemon had crashed.
SHRIIEEEEK!
The cry rattled Carver's skull in his head, invoking a wince that did little against the sudden spray of seawater into his helmet.
A body suddenly slammed into Carver, throwing him into an upturned stone.
"Urk––!"
"Ser Carver," Duncan recognised as he unsteadily slid off of him, then tripped. "Ack."
Carver blearily refocused, then widened his eyes. "Down!"
Carver yanked Duncan with him into a combat roll before a massive claw tore into the stones behind them. Armour and sand cut into Carver's skin as he scrambled to his feet and pulled Duncan with him into a consecutive dive without waiting for a screech. Another quarter of the docks exploded with sudden force.
Carver shook the dirt out of his eyes only to look up into the jagged snout of a fallen god.
For a split-second, it launched at Carver and gave him a clear view of its inner throat.
––Then a qunari sword lodged itself into its eye.
"Rah!" Duncan cried out as he leapt at the archdemon.
Carver whipped his head around to see Sten charging in with Zevran, Wynne, wardens, soldiers, and Circle mages and Templars. The lattermost hunkered down to strengthen their area cleansing around the archdemon, leashing its breath while the rest of the forces defended the battlefield from darkspawn or leapt in headfirst with Duncan.
Carver shakily stood up and sheathed Summer Sword lest he end up cutting himself. The Templars were stealing the archdemon of its breath, but only while they could be protected. The archdemon had been grounded in what Anora, Loghain, and Duncan had agreed was the worst battlefield: the rocky shores of the now shattered docks.
Even afar, Carver could perceive Oghren and the Legion of the Dead readily facing waves of darkspawn, so long as they didn't have to take one step closer to the ocean. The chaos at the docks also threw a mist everywhere, obstructing Fort Drakon's sight from a clear shot. Shale, Leliana, Clan Siona, and the wardens and soldiers who weren't near the archdemon were definitely swamped with protecting Elissa, Alistair, and Denerim's citizens from being overrun.
That was when Carver noticed a spark flicker up the archdemon's throat.
Even leashed, it was still an ancient god in the form of a dragon. Carver didn't often swear, but,
Shit.
"Everyone out of the water!" Carver roared as he threw off his helmet and dove into the frey.
Though only a heartbeat passed, Carver felt himself resurface with a shock of cold down his lungs as he willed all he had into his hand and spotted the first sign of scaled flesh. He punched the archdemon in the throat with a smite. Hard.
ROAAAAAR!
A branch of lightning struck the docks and skittered across the water, zapping all thought out of Carver. He and the Templars had more than halved the archdemon's damage, but exhaustion was now clutching them by the neck, whereas the fallen god was still warming up. It had only saved its breath to maintain buoyancy in the air and dodge the ballistas' bolts.
Now, all its enemies were in front of it or at its feet, drowning.
SHRRRRRIIIEEEE––––
Carver desperately climbed onto one of the archdemon's thrashing limbs to gasp for air, stabbing Summer Sword into the limb as he did so.
Maker, no more lightning – please!
That was when something blotted out the sun.
Was that––?
CRASH!
Fort Drakon's tower smashed onto the archdemon, utterly flattening it into the docks. Elissa and Alistair crawled out of it with drawn swords.
Elissa roared. "Vengeance, baby!"
Alistair pointed. "Now, Faren!"
Carver spluttered despite a grin splitting across his face. Those crazy wardens. They had barely missed dropping the tower on him.
"From the very start," Carver shouted as he tore Summer Sword out of the archdemon, "I wondered if you two would be the death of me!"
The archdemon shrieked as Carver severed its leg, right in time for Faren to leap out of the tower and into the dragon's open jaw. The archdemon flailed in alarm with arcs of lightning once, twice––
THUMP.
Then fell dead, destroying the last of the dock. Everyone watched with bated breath as its jaw twitched, before suddenly cracking open into a full maw. Faren stood with a mace shoved up the mouth's roof, his other mace slimy with blood, tissue, and shards of bone. Faren had literally beaten a god to death.
The docks erupted into cheers.
"We did it!"
"Hail the Wardens!"
"The Blight is ended!"
Elissa, Alistair, Faren, and Carver slowly made their way to solid ground as the retreating cries of darkspawn could be heard, vanishing back underground or under a warrior's blade. Morrigan crawled out of the tower and joined them at the docks, exhausted but smug, evidently having assisted the tower's controlled collapse. Carver retrieved Asala and handed it to Sten while the crowd bumped into him with praises and joy. Many were crying. More were grinning.
The warden's party eventually found each other.
"It's over," Elissa panted, a smile splitting her face in half.
"Yes," Carver spoke roughly, gazing down at Summer Sword. "It is."
The damage Denerim had suffered was more than matched by the bulk of Ferelden's forces present. That was how after progressive recovery of the city, everyone who could be convinced into a festive mood was sucked into one, from the Dalish to the dwarves. Even Carver was forcibly dragged from his desk into nice attire, and then the royal ballroom.
There would be a formal event for the king's return to Denerim for his Joining, but for now the royal palace and the city's streets came to life with shared revelry. There were a lot of celebrations in Ferelden's future.
Carver gazed out a shuttered window, vainly trying to decipher if Clan Siona, the city elves, and Denerim's low-income district were truly dancing in circles around the vhenadahl together.
Leliana nudged him. "Stop working."
Carver glanced at her. "I'm not at my desk."
"You have a dagger," Leliana deadpanned, "hidden in your clothing."
"Summer Sword wouldn't fit," Carver admitted.
The vast ballroom swelled with music, and Carver shot Leliana a look. He recognised this tune — and its three cousins.
The bard snatched Carver's wrist and pulled him to the floor before he could open his mouth. A crowd of other dancers pressed in around them, trapping Carver between two ways to embarrass himself.
Carver hissed. "You wrote those songs, didn't you?"
Leliana jerked him into a forward lock with an innocent smile. "Be happy, Carver. The public hasn't yet realised that these analogies refer to the same—"
Carver pulled them into a reverse pivot.
Leliana giggled. "I'm glad you'd prefer to dance."
When the music blessedly turned to a waltz, Carver finally retreated from the floor and headed for the charcuterie and sweet tables, mentally exhausted from keeping up with the steps. He slipped a plate of cake to Sten at the end of one table.
Sten quickly accepted the dessert, swapping out his plate of cookies. "They said they had cake. I had nearly taken it for a lie."
Carver stole a spot beside him with a grab for water, only for Zevran to beat him to it with an outstretched goblet.
Carver accepted the wine to gulp, then sip it, aware they were in the royal palace. He cocked a brow at Zevran. "Posing as a servant?"
The assassin smirked, sipping his own drink. "Maybe I'm also trying to loosen you up, Carv. You must relax."
"I know my strengths," Carver muttered into his cup.
Past the ballroom's open doors, the Legion of the Dead could be seen stiffly idling like statues, obviously eager to return to the Deep Roads. The devoted group of warriors then coalesced around Faren, Oghren, and Shale with a spike of albeit still solemn energy. Regardless, they were worth monitoring. Carver had been in a tavern of dwarves before. Oghren pulled out a wineskin large enough to carry a baby, which — well, wasn't surprising. Then Wynne strolled over.
Zevran caught Carver's arm.
"I'm just going to look," Carver defended.
"Don't," Elissa walked over with a grin, "it will be funny."
Carver gaped, affronted. "You didn't like it when I drank."
"You could've died from alcohol poisoning," Elissa returned. "Wynne is apparently built from tougher stuff. Besides, you're obviously avoiding a chance for the queen to promote you into a captain in front of everyone."
The ballroom doors roared with new energy. The dwarves were climbing on top of each other to make a pyramid, them and everyone around them chanting. Everyone. Let it not be said that Fereldens couldn't enjoy a good display of strength.
Carver clicked his tongue. Alright, this was starting to spiral out of control.
"Where's Morrigan?" Elissa suddenly asked.
A distracted hum answered her. "Wherever the bird flies," Carver muttered.
Zevran prodded Elissa. "Where's Alistair?"
Elissa fluttered a hand. "With Duncan, Arl Eamon, and the rest. He's finally realising how much of a hypocrite he can be, saying I should outlive him. Duncan's sacrificial attitude is putting things into perspective."
Sten swallowed a bite of cake. "You're punishing Alistair."
Elissa lifted her chin. "Maybe."
A gaggle of nobles drifted over to the ballroom doors, inflating the crowd. Everyone present was a soldier at some level given that a lord's army fell under a bann's army, which fell under an arl's army, which fell under a teyrn's army, until finally, the king's army. Even Levi could be seen in an alcove chatting with Nathaniel and other quieter participants of the celebration, though a cheer coloured their faces. Loghain was in the back of the ballroom with Anora and a string of grey-haired nobles whom Carver recognised as old supporters of the royal family. Carver mostly left them be. Loghain was Duncan's responsibility, now.
The gaggle of nobles approached Faren, their question clear in tone and body language. The rogue replied in a louder dimension for both.
"We wouldn't be here without the surfacer!" He pointed.
A servant slipped through the crowd for an alcove, his entire posture hurried. Nathaniel turned his head as the servant whispered, before the young arl briefly nodded to his company and gracefully spun away. He set his goblet on a windowsill as he headed for a veranda.
The gaggle of nobles passed Nathaniel, where he seemingly vanished from thin air.
"We have come to cheer the saviour of Ferelden!" the nobles declared.
Carver placed his goblet on a windowsill, committing his own breach of etiquette as Elissa jovially nudged him. "Carver, they want to know who saved them!"
Carver distractedly gestured to her. "Warden Elissa is a true hero."
Elissa's squawk was swallowed by the roar of celebration that erupted as Carver paced for the veranda, swiftly dodging nobles who gathered to praise the warden. He ran into the veranda's banister, whipping his head about, before catching sight of Nathaniel weaving through the crowded streets afar, his orange doublet and titian half-cape marking him out. Carver hauled himself onto the banister and leapt down an entire story, rolling up to his feet and making chase.
Though Carver had grown taller than the average man, only his forehead benefitted, and he now struggled to track Nathaniel's shrinking head through the sea of merchants, commoners, and their raised cups while essentially darting about on his tiptoes. Still, he knew these streets as a soldier of the king's army, and he pivoted down an alley for the city stables. After several wild minutes of hoping he hadn't completely lost Nathaniel, Carver finally broke free of the crowd,
—Into the path of a screeching horse.
"Woah!" its rider reared the steed, then trotted back to shift in his saddle.
Carver fell back on his butt, catching himself with his hands. "Sorry! I'm sorry!"
The horse turned its head with a tug of reins, revealing Nathaniel behind them. "Watch where you're going—! Wait, do I know you?"
Carver scrambled up to his feet, motioning for the stable hand to quickly bring him a horse. "I'm Ser Carver of the king's army, and I must follow you to Amaranthine!"
Nathaniel scoffed as he kicked his horse forward, not waiting for Carver to mount his. Nathaniel's horse began to pick up speed. "I have urgent business in Vigil's Keep — the crown can punish me later!"
Carver hurriedly kicked his horse to race after him. "I'm here to protect you!"
"From what?" Nathaniel shouted back through the wind that whipped past them. "Politics?"
"Darkspawn!" Carver galloped astride of Nathaniel. "You received word from the Grey Wardens, didn't you?"
"A Warden Solona," Nathaniel reluctantly revealed, face taut with worry. "Apparently, self-aware darkspawn attacked my home shortly after the time I know the archdemon died. Warden Solona drove them out and has taken one of her recruits down a chasm in the Knotwood Hills for the Deep Roads."
"Solona…?" Carver echoed.
Duncan had been busy helping repair Denerim and prepare recruits for the Joining, seeing as Denerim could ill afford more dead bodies so soon in the likely event not all recruits survived. For Solona to write to Nathaniel over Duncan, she must have prioritised notifying the less busy Nathaniel that his sister, brother-in-law, and unborn niece or nephew were safe. Another raven was likely on its way to the rookery in the old warden district with a scroll addressed to Duncan.
If Solona had found the time, between clearing out Vigil's Keep and chasing after evidence of self-aware darkspawn.
"Knotwood Hills…" Carver repeated in horror. "There are broodmothers below it! Arl Nathaniel, we must ride there!"
Nathaniel spluttered after Carver as the soldier sped up. "Aren't I in charge!?"
Carver shouted back. "I'll protect you!"
Nathaniel hurried his horse. "What's a broodmother!?"
;
A/N:
Nathaniel is so confused. Around Carver, that's pretty normal, he he.
One more crisis, then on to Kirkwall! :D
Edit: I just learned that Leandra says Carver is 18, not 20 by the time of DA2. Events in this fic are occurring about a year ahead of canon, but some lines don't land when the subject is 17. I've thus gone back and replaced Carver's current age with 18. Let's pretend Carver has been 18 for more than a year now... Woops.