Brady gasped for air as his eyes shot open. The only light in the tent came from a flickering lantern at his side. His muscles felt frozen, pinning him down to the bedroll he and Leliana shared. She was coiled up against him, undisturbed by his abrupt spasm. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried to slow his racing mind.
There was no use. Without the remedy from the mages back at Skyhold, he was a prisoner to his own thoughts once again. The flickering images of death and destruction he had seen over the past few years have done their job mangling his hopes of a goodnight's sleep.
With a sigh, he gently rolled Leliana to her side, wrapping her up in the blanket. She barely flinched, which allowed him to relax. They both had a huge day ahead of them, and he preferred her sleeping calmly rather than staying up and asking questions about what was wrong.
Brady threw on a pair of trousers and a tunic. He left the tent and paced away from it, reveling in the cool air and quiet of the area around him. Quiet, besides the flickers and snaps of a fire not too far away.
The figures by the fire were distinguishable: it was Hawke and Damon- not saying a word- just simply staring into the flames of the roaring fire between them.
As Brady walked over, their heads picked up and looked to him. Damon motioned towards a spot around the fire, "Take a seat, Inquisitor."
Brady nodded, and sat beside Hawke. Hawke nudged him and revealed a flask. She offered, and he agreed, slinging it back and wiping his chin of the remnants after.
"What brings you out here?" Hawke asked, bringing her eyes back to the fire. "Dreams about people you couldn't save? Nightmares about your enemies coming back to haunt you?" She paused and pulled on a smirk, "Or did Leliana simply steal all the blankets?"
Brady chuckled, "All the above, I'm afraid."
"Maker, aren't we all just a joke." Damon swirled his mug of ale and drank from it. He sighed, "'The Heroes of Thedas.' What's all of it worth if we can't even sleep at night?"
They fell silent, only due to the truth in his words. Brady hung his head low, running his fingers through his hair to soothe the tension that pulsed against his skull.
"May I ask, Inquisitor… what exactly keeps you up at night?" Damon inquired, his grey eyes prominent against the dark circles underneath them.
"The Mark," He answered. His hand glowed green as he held it out. "It makes everything so vivid. Whenever I see the people I couldn't save or the faces of people who have been slaughtered, it's like I'm living it all over again."
"And you, Hawke?"
Hawke sucked on her teeth, "I'd rather not talk about it, Warden."
"Oh, come on. I've read Varric's book. I know of all of the horrors you've seen. I'm simply curious."
Hawke stared at the warden, her green eyes showing resistance. She shook her head, "My mother and Bethany. Every night, I see them and am reminded of how I failed them."
"That was out of your control, Hawke." Brady interjected.
"Was it?" She replied, and taking another drink from her flask.
"During the blight, I was visited by the archdemon every time I closed my eyes. Eventually, I got used to it. Being a warden, you have to." He leaned forward and looked to both of them. "It wasn't until I was given a family where I found my greatest fear. You want to keep them safe from this world, from everything- but you can't. No matter how hard you try or how hard you fight, fate eventually takes the control away from you."
"You're afraid of your calling?" Brady said solemnly.
"Terrified."
"We'll find your cure, Warden, I assure you." Hawke added with a confident grin only she could manifest.
Damon lifted his ale and tipped it towards Hawke, "I'm going to hold you to that, Champion."
Hawke threw another log on the fire. The embers shot up as the already brazen flame began to eat away at the dry wood. She tipped her head back and looked at the sky. Damon did the same, smiling to himself.
"We wage war and create such horrors on land, but when you look up, the sky is always constant, unchanged." Damon said.
"I like the sky when it isn't spewing demons out of it." Brady added.
Damon laughed, "Leliana loves the stars." He put on his best Orlesian accent, "'Each star holds a story, Grey Warden.'" He looked to Brady. "Morrigan simply prefers the night… as I am just content with nights with her."
Brady cocked an eyebrow, "Have you and Leliana ever… you know…?"
A smirk came across the warden's face. "Have we what, Inquisitor? Licked a lamppost in winter together?" He laughed at himself, "No. Never. There was a small attraction long ago, when we first met, but you don't have to worry. Her heart seems to be occupied, anyhow."
"You seem to have left your 'mark' on your spymaster, Inquisitor." Hawke grinned, and waited for a reaction. They simply cringed at the terrible pun. Hawke spoke up again, "Wait, I have another one…"
Brady interjected, "If it's another joke about 'switching hands,' I will run my sword through you, Hawke, I swear it."
She threw her hands up and yielded.
"I will say inquisitor, 'Herald of Andraste' or not, you hurt her, and I'll kill you." Damon had a smile, which only made his words all the more unnerving to Brady.
Brady scratched the back of his neck, "That- won't be necessary."
Damon tipped his drink toward Brady, "As long as were clear on that."
Hawke coughed and clapped her hands together. "So, anyone up for a game of wicked grace?"
The morning was well underway. There was the familiar mood of anxiousness and fear amongst everyone in the camp. They had the numbers, the leadership, and the will- but Weisshaupt has never fallen, and that fact scared every soldier that was preparing for the battlefield.
Even Damon.
He was sharpening his sword outside of the tent. Well, it wasn't his sword, and he detested the idea of using any weapon besides his family's sword. But, the blade was well enough to accompany him for the battle and he knew he had to make due.
Morrigan watched him from not too far away. She had seen him like this before, though there was no getting used to it. His unkempt look was something she hasn't seen since the blight. Above all, she could see his uncertainty. It was written all over his face and demeanor. The way he looked disappointed in himself when he couldn't quite work out the kink in the sword he was working on, or the fact that he didn't bother to buff his Warden-Commander armor, as though he knew it would simply be battered anyway.
"You're staring," Damon said, not taking his eyes off the blade. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you wanted me to take you to bed."
She heard him and laughed, "Perhaps that is my intention."
He looked up at her and wiped the sweat off of his brow. She stood there with a coy grin, making him chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind after this is over."
Hawke walked up while fixing her gauntlets, "Alright, I believe it is about time we start 'Operation: Deathwish,' don't you agree?"
Brady also joined them, wearing his signature silverite armor that now had a red fox's pelt draped over his shoulders, creating a fiery contrast. Leliana and Cullen were at his flanks, both of their faces painted with a seriousness that outmatched anyone else's on site.
"Aren't you sweating with that around your neck?" Hawke asked, directing it to Brady.
He looked at the fur on his shoulders and shrugged, "It's comforting… reminds me of certain things in my life." He threw a small smirk Leliana's way.
Morrigan rolled her eyes, "'Tis very cheesy around here, and Alistair is nowhere to be found."
"I suggest you all say your goodbyes, just in case." Damon said, his eyes on Morrigan.
"Already have." Hawke affirmed, continuing to toy with her charged gauntlets.
Brady grabbed Cullen's hand and pulled him close, "Keep her safe." He murmured.
They separated, and Cullen nodded with understanding.
Brady turned to Leliana and pulled on a small grin, "I'll see you soon."
"You better." Leliana said, holding a smile even as her eyes grew weary.
Damon stood up and placed a kiss on Morrigan's forehead. He sheathed his sword and began to walk away from the camp, both Hawke and Brady following behind and joined him, each on a mount. Brady gave a final look back, giving his best attempt of reassurance to the friends he was leaving behind.
Damon flicked the wrings of his chestnut Ferelden Forder and propelled forward. Without room for much thought, Hawke and Brady did the same, following him into the distance.
Leliana watched them fade away from view alongside Cullen and Morrigan. Once their frames were blotches in the distance, she exhaled and turned away. Her eyes scanned every companion who was content in their preparation. She could feel their nerves; Maker knows she felt the same.
"He'll be alright." She heard someone say. She turned towards the sound. Anders. He was sitting on a fallen log with his hands folded in front of him, and looked at her with a kindness. He continued, "They'll be alright."
She crossed her arms, "How can you be so sure?"
He stood up from his seat. "I am not a religious man."
"I've noticed."
He let a small breath of a laugh out. "Yes, well… Whenever I fear for her… for Hawke… I catch myself praying to The Maker to keep her safe."
"And you are sharing this with me for what purpose?"
The animosity in her tone didn't go unnoticed. "She always comes back to me. Whether it be The Maker's work or just dumb luck…"
"There is no such thing as luck, Anders." She turned away from him and began to walk away, "It's all just part of His plan."
Their horses were at a slow trot. The area around them was bare, save for a few hills that cluttered the perimeter.
Damon was at point, his eyes constantly surveying the land. He had been at it for hours, and it began to feel like it was all in vein.
Hawke broke the silence, "Usually during long bouts of silence, my friends and I, I don't know, talk to each other."
"I'm not much for banter when I'm riding." Brady admitted, his eyes forward.
"Well, you should fix that, Inquisitor."
Brady scratched the back of his neck, "I'll admit, I've tried."
Damon joined in, "This is rather suspicious." He turned his body towards them as his horse continued to trot forward. "No scouts, no attack. There aren't even remnants of habitation anywhere."
Brady sped up to be shoulder to shoulder with Damon. "Could he have wizened up?"
"Possibly, but it's very unlike him to play games rather than just attack us… unless…" He lowered his voice. "Hawke, can you sense any magic in the area?"
"Warden, we stand on the grounds that have seen the blight five times over." She raised her chin, "Of course I sense magic."
"No, Hawke, that's not what I-"
Damon's horse buckled and came close to throwing him off. Damon maneuvered his mount and saw the cause: pairs of skeletal hands poking through the earth and forcing themselves out of their resting breath. He cursed, and drew his sword.
"Inquisitor, there's mages in the area!" Damon shouted as the ground around them began to spawn more of the undead.
Brady drew his sword and began to slash away at the undead that approached his mount. "Fade cloaks!" He pulled on his wrings and maneuvered his horse. "Disable their magic, Hawke, I'll keep them off of you."
Brady circled Hawke's horse as she pulled off her staff and began to cast a disabling area spell. Her staff began to glow a bright white as the magic began to coat the area around them. "Necromancy, not my favorite." She said under her breath.
They were becoming outnumbered with every second passing. Damon's horse was at its threshold, thrashing and becoming more and more difficult to hold onto.
"They're among the foothills!" Hawke confirmed, and began riding hard towards the hidden mages. As her magic began to peel away their fade cloaks, the mages began to appear out of thin air, in heavy armor rather than robes and heavily armed. "This'll be fun."
Brady saw the mages manifesting, and called out to Damon. "Forget about them, Warden. Go for the mages!"
Damon nodded, and galloped towards Hawke, holding his sword low and crippling as many undead as possible. Brady focused on the corpses, skillfully outmaneuvering every attempt the horde made of dismounting him and striking blow after blow from his horse.
Hawke saw Damon in the corner of her eye and gave him a subtle nod. She pointed her staff to a mage that was casting and released a cone of cold. They froze in place, and with skilled precision, Damon rode past and shattered the mage into pieces. Damon hopped off of his horse and put to use the minimal Templar training he had remembered from Alistair years ago.
With shield in hand, he charged as the group of mages hurled fireballs in his direction. He angled his shield to deflect the attacks away. Hawke assisted, keeping direct fire on the mages and dividing their attention. When he was close enough, a mage drew a sword and began to strike at him. Damon noticed it was enchanted by the way the blade was bright with flames. They licked his face, the heat from both the fireballs and the blade caused his body to grow warm inside of his armor.
The mage struck with precision, straining Damon's ability more than he expected. He deflected the swing with his sword, and struck the mage with his shield, causing him to stumble back, allowing just enough of a window to bury his sword through the exposed chainmail between his breast plates. Damon watched the life vacate his adversary, then quickly pushed him off of his blade.
Damon turned to his left to see another mage with his sword raised and ready to strike into him. He parried, as Brady came riding and took the mage's head clean off.
Damon looked up and nodded. Brady did the same, then shouted. "Blizzard, Hawke!"
"If only I had thought of that!" She said, preoccupied with engaging two mages that had managed to flank her.
Brady taunted them, and they turned their aggression towards him, but not before one shot a bright ball of electricity into the sky. Hawke let a grunt out as magic shot from her fingertips and staff, causing the area to become covered with an arctic frost. Damon used his shield to deflect the winds from the spell and engaged one mage while Brady took on the other. They made quick work of the two as they were blinded by the sudden eruption of snow and fast winds. Damon grabbed his opponent and pushed him out of the storm. As it died down, he threw the man to his back and held the tip of his sword against the mages neck.
"You sent a flare, did you not? How far are your forces?" Damon inched the blade closer, turning it and drawing a single drop of blood.
He spat, "Fuck. You."
Damon wasn't amused, and brought his knee against the mage warden's jaw. "I won't ask again."
The mage wiped the blood from his mouth and scoffed, "You'll find out soon enough."
Damon clenched his jaw and was ready to end his life. He rose his sword only to be stopped by Hawke. "Perhaps, he could be of use." She suggested. Damon looked at her, and retracted his blade. She continued, "Go, mage. Tell Larson he'll have to do better than this."
Damon stepped away as he scurried away. He sheathed his sword and examined the bodies of the fallen, cringing at their familiar faces, now lifeless.
Brady veered off into the distance with small grunts of pain. "Son of a-," Brady ripped off his left gauntlet revealed the unnerving glow of his mark. The veins that ran from his hand to his arm protruded immensely, sending a shooting pain with every heartbeat. He gritted his teeth and cradled his hand, "Andraste's grace."
Damon looked over, "Your mark, Inquisitor."
"I had used it on the corpses." Brady said, creating a fist and slowly releasing, stretching his fingers out. "It's just flaring up, I'll be fine."
"Our forces better be prepared." Hawke said, then drinking a vial of lyrium that she retrieved from her pack.
"Cullen should already have them mobilized." Brady added.
Damon descended the hill, "We have to prepare just in case our men aren't be here on time." He called for his horse. "It won't be long now until we're neck deep in Wardens."
