Thank you Brelaina and Kirabaros for your reviews! As always, thank you Brelaina for being my beta reader. :)
Ch. 12 Corrupted
Violet didn't expect such a horrific homecoming. So many mages and Templar were strewn along the floor soaked in their blood. Their eyes were dull and lifeless, but the rest of their features preserved their final moments: surprise, fear, and for some – acceptance. Her stomach churned. Every time she spotted a new corpse her anger grew. Her mind reeled. If she hadn't been recruited… she shuddered. She sensed the desperation of the mages. It was so hard to decipher which ones were corrupted and which were fighting for survival.
One blood mage asked to be spared. The issue tore her in two. She knew only those who were corrupted dabbled in the forbidden art. Yet, she hesitated. She thought of Jowan and his desperation to save his relationship with Lily. Lily cast him aside immediately upon revelation. Violet watched silently, waiting for the right words and a way to comprehend her feelings. The only thing she could accept was her assistance in Jowan's escape attempt. So, she held her ground and admitted her crime confidently.
Blood magic; desperation drives people to desperate measures. It must take some time to consider the consequences and rewards. To determine that acting in the evil practice is better than any other alternative. All mages are taught how horrific and dangerous it is. Yet, they exist; and before her laid a woman with such sadness, discontent, and shame that she left her life in Violet's hands.
She quickly found how wrought with decisions a Grey Warden's life entailed. A few hours ago she relished in the freedom of choice and felt some pride in giving Zevran a second chance. Now, she worried of the hard decisions that plagued her future.
She had seen the mage before. She was a couple years older than her and already passed her Harrowing. Violet thought of the Templar that stood watching the Harrowing, waiting ready to strike down those that succumbed to the Fade. They all watched the mages grow. They hardly conversed, but it wasn't hard to establish some form of rapport. It must have been a hard job (unless fear or lyrium blinded them).
Violet stepped forward while keeping her eyes locked with the blood mage. She stretched out her hand. The woman flinched, but after a moment, she looked at Violet with dumbfounded and grateful eyes and took the outstretched hand.
"Thank you." Many have said those words to her during her travels as a Grey Warden. The woman was no different. She said it just as exasperated and relieved as the others. Violet hoped the decisions she made thus far had been the right ones. She would not have received so many thanks otherwise, right?
Zevran watched his comrades carefully with increasing curiosity. He understood Violet once lived there and that the mages that used blood magic were marked as corrupt. However, when Violet decided to show mercy upon one such individual, he couldn't help but wonder. The mercy she gave to those who were supposedly her enemies seemed foolish – especially with what he understood of her past. The event should have hardened her, yet she remained so forgiving. It was a different kind of strength.
Alistair was also an interesting fellow. Though he dreaded the thought of becoming king and always found something to joke about, Zevran learned that he too had a difficult life. Perhaps laughing things off was a defense mechanism?
Zevran quickly learned his place between the two. Alistair had tailed Violet and given him enough glares to hint that she was "off-limits." The challenge only motivated his efforts, though. Now that he witnessed her act of kindness with the blood mage, he was especially eager to converse with the "Templar" about her.
Their endeavor lasted the entire day. By the time order was restored and they made their way back across the lake the moon shone brightly in the night sky.
Everyone in the row boat was exhausted. Alistair and Violet were seated in front of him. She was leaning against Alistair, most likely with her eyes closed. He watched him glance down at Violet now and then and witnessed a faint smile come across his lips. Zevran's anticipation grew, but he kept his demeanor calm. Only the devious sparkle in his eyes betrayed him.
Violet was sound asleep by the time the boat reached the docks. Alistair gently cradled her in his arms and carried her back to camp. He glanced down to see her sleeping face as he walked. She looked so peaceful despite what must have been a difficult day for her. No, he would let her rest for now.
Somehow, he managed to open the flap of her tent and ducked inside to lay her on her bedroll. As soon as he let go, she turned to her side and stretched an arm out and managed to catch his forearm. Alistair sat on his heels for a moment and waited. He couldn't help but smile. So many years had passed, yet somehow, it was almost as if nothing changed. A few moments later she finally let go and rolled to the other side. He did his best to silently get to his feet and exit the tent.
"So, you decided to emerge?" Zevran said, grinning. He was leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed. "If it were me, I would have laid beside her all night."
Alistair jerked his head in Zevran's direction and sneered. "That wouldn't be proper, assassin."
"Oh? Is it because of the rest of our little party? Are you afraid of what they would think?" he said, continuing to grin. "Simply laying next to a woman is not a gesture of sexual advancement; unless, you decided to leave for fear of losing your self control?"
"Of course not!" Alistair said sternly, but quickly lowered his voice when he remembered Violet was sleeping only a few feet away. He could feel his ears getting red.
"Come now, Warden, let us have a chat away from the tent so you do not need to worry about waking her." Zevran jerked his head to motion Alistair to come to him.
He shuffled his feet. The course of the current conversation was not a welcomed one. If Zevran wanted to continue to talk about it, he'd rather just return to his tent.
"Look, it's been a long day, Zevran. I'm going to bed," he huffed and started to walk away.
"I am sorry if I offended you, my dear Alistair. I actually have a question regarding the Warden," he said, a little louder so he could hear him.
Alistair paused and looked back. Zevran jerked his head back again to gesture him hither. He looked back at Violet's tent then slowly made his way toward Zevran.
They walked a little farther away from the clearing before Alistair started to ask, "Okay, what is it?" He was stiff and impatiently crossed his arms.
"Before I ask, I want to confirm a few things. You are a Templar, correct?"
"I trained to become a Templar, but never made it official."
"But, you are trained to share in their morals?"
"Yes…" Alistair furrowed his eye brows in suspicion.
"So, here is my question. Hypothetically speaking, of course, what would you do if you found out she practiced blood magic?"
Alistair's face grew hot and inhaled a quick breath. "What! Where did this come from?"
"Did you not see the various blood mages during our encounter today, Alistair?" Zevran chuckled. "It was simply a passing thought; especially because I know how close you are to one another."
His jaw tightened and gripped his arms. "I don't have to answer that," he said, turning his head.
Zevran continued to smile. "Indeed you do not. But, if it were me, I would not mind at all. Such beauty combined with a dark art would simply make her more alluring and exciting." Alistair's nose started to flare, but he continued to look at the ground. "She too confessed to me that she wondered what would have happened to her all those years ago if she had not escaped to live with you. I wonder how heartbroken she would be to find that your affections for her would waiver at such news."
Alistair flinched. He didn't want to think about such a scenario. After all, he was trained to hate and hunt maleficarum. It was his duty and moral ethics. It was almost impossible to picture Violet as a blood mage. Alistair turned and walked back to camp without another word to Zevran snickering amused in the shadows.
Alistair blinked as he slowly regained consciousness. He tried to sit up, but found that his hands were bound above his head and his feet bound at the other end of the board. He was stripped of his armor, laying in nothing but his underclothes. Cuts and bruises covered his body. It was then that he noticed he was aching and stinging all over.
"Wha -?" he started to say, but a familiar voice sounded from the shadows.
"Good, you survived the first round. It would have been disappointing to see you dead in only a few hours time," an elf said calmly as she stepped out of the shadows.
"Violet?" Alistair whispered under his breath and examined her closely. She was wearing clothing with the Antivan Crow's symbol and had a tattoo of several lines curving across her forehead. Her demeanor was confident and sultry, but her eyes danced with mischief and danger. "Violet, is that you?" he said a little louder. What in Maker's name is going on?
"So, you've remembered your torturer's name? I'm flattered," she said and leaned in, holding her face only a few inches away from his. She grinned and caressed a finger lightly across his cheek. "Maybe I should give you a gift – something to definitely remember me by."
She straightened up and traced her hand down to the left side of his chest. There was a cut that was still fresh and had blood slowly trickling down. She placed a finger on the cut then quickly pulled her hand away, pulling some of his blood magically from the wound. Alistair yelled and jerked his shoulder. It was as if a small knife was yanked from his chest. Violet chuckled. The blood she took formed into a neat point at the end of her finger. She leaned in and pushed the tip into his chest. He screamed and jerked again.
"Violet! What are you doing?" he asked through gritted teeth and looked at her angrily and confused.
"You shouldn't jerk around like that, otherwise the cut won't be clean and my work will be ruined," she said calmly and continued to drag the blood needle across his chest.
"Ahh! Stop!" Alistair demanded and continued to writhe.
Violet paused and sighed. "Now, now, be a good boy and hold still," she said and a purple aura shot from her free hand and engulfed his body. Alistair gasped and found that he could no longer move. "Hmm… much better," she purred and continued her work.
He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for the remainder of the time. He tried to speak, but found he had lost his voice as well. A few excruciating moments later, Violet sighed happily and announced she was finished. He could feel the blood needle gone, but the cuts she left on his chest still stung. She took a nearby rag and wiped away the remaining blood from the scar.
"Well, aren't you going to take a look?"
He opened his eyes and shifted his shoulders, relieved to be able to move again. He hesitated to see his mutilated chest, but figured that if he didn't see it now he would eventually. He slowly lifted his head and gawked. "Violet" was carefully carved in script and placed within a simple heart outline. He was about to protest when another voice interrupted.
"Still playing with your meals, my dear?" Zevran chuckled and wrapped an arm around her.
She looked back at him and smiled. "You know me. I savor the flavor."
Zevran gave another chuckle and pulled her into a deep and passionate kiss. Alistair felt his blood coursing through him and he growled angrily. "Let go of her!"
Zevran slowly lifted his head. He looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "And why should I do that? We are both partners and lovers after all." He watched Alistair's face flushed with confusion and rage. "Oh?" he said amused, "My dear Violet, it seems you have an admirer."
It was Violet's turn to look at Alistair. She scoffed. "My, you really are a charmer," she said, and pulled Zevran into another deep kiss.
He felt his anger heighten. His thoughts were no longer clear. She was not Violet. She was not his Violet. He struggled with his chains, but somehow, felt them loosen. By the time the assassins noticed, he had already jumped off the table, grabbed one of Zevran's daggers, and pierced Violet through the heart.
At that moment, the scenery whirred and they were sitting in the middle of the woods. Alistair was wearing Templar armor and Violet had returned to her normal self. The dagger remained, however, and was still settled deep within Violet's chest. His breath was ragged. His anger quickly subsided into one of concern. "Violet?" he whispered.
She gaped, her eyes wide with confusion. Meekly, she lifted a hand and placed it on his cheek. "Why? How… could you? You… promised…" With that, her head fell forward and Alistair held her close to his chest.
Tears streamed his face as he called out her name over and over.
"Violet!" Alistair screamed as he jerked awake. He breathed heavily as he looked around bewildered. He was laying under the covers, upon his bedroll, and back in his tent. He placed his hands onto his face and wiped the beads of dripping sweat. "Damn that assassin." He sat there for a few more seconds before pulling on some pants and quickly exiting his tent.
He noticed that everyone had gone to bed and Zevran was warming his hands alone by the fire. Alistair stormed toward him with a new-found determination.
"Hmm?" Zevran looked up at Alistair curiously and stood up to face him. "Is something the matter, Alistair?"
"No," he said firmly as he pointed a finger at him.
"So, nothing is troubling you?" he inquired doubtfully.
Alistair huffed and said, "No, I mean, that is my answer. I wouldn't mind if she was a blood mage."
Zevran blinked then chuckled. "Ahh, so you have been thinking about it all night then and that is your answer?"
"In a way, yes, and that is my answer."
"Are you sure? As a Templar you are entitled to certain duties, no?"
"No… I don't think I could do it."
"What if she was an abomination? Would you kill her then?"
Alistair looked to the ground thoughtfully and stiffened his body. After a few moments, he looked back at Zevran and said, "I swore I would protect her. And if that meant protecting her from herself, then it would be my job; no one else's. But I'd fight to find another way. Killing her would be my very last resort."
Zevran crossed his arms and nodded. "You two are an intriguing couple, Warden." He turned back to the fire and started to warm his hands again.
Alistair looked thoughtfully into the flames and stood there for some time before returning to his tent.