Lothering, it was a place filled with despair and desperation. Bandits choked off escape routes, beasts slunk on the outskirts of the village preying on the unwary or weak. Darkspawn were approaching at a rapid pace, and Florien wondered why everyone didn't just run. They needed to flee northward, no possession was so great that they needed to stay and protect it, no land so precious at this moment that would rationally weigh out to staying when the horde arrived. Nothing was so dear as the lives of the hopeless people.
Was Lothering named such because everyone was loathing their lives?
Still it wasn't as if everything was hellish, they'd gained three new members to their very very odd party. There was Bunbun, the mabari that he had saved at Ostagar, a rather large and drooling beast that loved nothing more than to knock Florien over and slobber all over him or decide that it must claim all of Fereldan as its territory. Then there was Leiliana, lay sister of the Chantry, extremely sweet and Orlesian as well and there was something ever so familiar about her but he couldn't yet place where he could have met the older woman, if he had met her before at all. Then there was Sten. Sten was a Qunari and he was as simple and complex as that all at once. He was honorable in his own way, seeking atonement for the massacre of a family whose lives he had taken unjustly. Florien had not yet wheedle the information as to why Sten had killed those people, but he was getting better at figuring out what made Sten tick. Florien was actually getting better at figuring out what made everyone in this ragtag group of misfits tick.
Yet his mind wasn't on the doomed civilians or his newest companions. His gaze was far off, unseeing as he sat by the campfire, Alistair behind him his presence warm and comforting as the elder warden chatted with Leiliana. Florien fought back a shiver as he leaned back into Alistair, his heart quietly breaking, his mind in turmoil and his nerves frayed beyond repair. Yet outwardly he seemed so calm, so composed, it wasn't until Alistair's hand accidentally brushed against Florien's shoulder that he was brought back from his memories with a violent flinch.
"Florien?"
Concerned compassion made Alistair's eyes the most comforting thing Florien had seen all day. Blinking and then turning his gaze back to the fire he heard Alistair dismiss Leiliana politely before the elder Warden tugged on a lock of Florien's hair. Making the mage turn back to him, to face him, Alistair wondered what had unsettled Florien so deeply. They hadn't been apart much, save for when Florien first went into the Chantry with no one except Bunbun and came back over an hour later, pale and distant. Florien had gone through all the motions as leader, weighing options, mediating arguments, and finding several ways they could get coin yet there was something gone, hidden away that Alistair didn't like.
"Ser Bryant, I know him." Florien's voice was thick with an Orlesian accent. Alistair wondered why he'd never picked up on it before, it was so obvious now that lilt to his words the musical quality in which he spoke. Was Florien Orlesian? If he was then why on earth was he in Fereldan of all places? Trying to get the thoughts from his head he turned his attention back to Florien. "He saved me, when I was a child. He is the Templar who brought me to the Tower under the Knight Commander of Denerim's orders. Ser Bryant had been picked because he was one of the kindest Templars and he would do nothing to further harm me."
"Wait further harm you? What happened Florien, did you accidentally use some magic and someone beat you?" It was an all too common tale, a mage child showed signs of magic and fearful villagers would beat the child for being so 'sinful'. The pause though, the hesitance in which Florien had made Alistair shift uncomfortably. "It was intentional, my use of magic. Some men from a gang, they had gone after my Mamae, and managed to stab her with a dagger. I set them on fire, killing them. Mamae got the dagger out of her and she tried to get me so we could run before the templars came for me. It was her inattention to her surroundings that got her killed, she did not kill all the remaining men, some were hidden in shadows. They shot her with an arrow and as she turned to throw a dagger a man came and beheaded her. The other men protested this, for Mamae was very pretty and I think they wanted to have fun with her, they were angry. They turned their anger upon me." Florien took Alistair's hand moving it so it could slide against the back of his neck. "These scars, on my back, they were made from a whip. The ones higher up are much lighter now, but the middle of my back is not very pretty to look at still."
Alistair exhaled sharply fingers going over the scars he had noticed but never questioned, never wondered how the mage had gotten them. "Maker Florien how did you escape? Did the Templars come and get you?"
"Non, I got out myself. Mamae taught me things, things of her profession. I can pick locks, I used those skills to get out. Picking locks, sneaking out. It was very hard but the men were assured that I was…incapacitated enough to where they need not watch me. I went to the Chantry and I went to the Knight Commander asking for refuge in the Tower. I believe I am one of a handful of mages who asked to be taken to the To-ommphh." The breath in Florien's lungs escaped him when Alistair held him bone crushingly tight. Florien wanted to protest, to tell Alistair he was hurting him, but he kept his mouth shut because it was warm and secure. The tension eased out of him and he was no longer remembering the sting of a whip on his back or the warmth of his Mother's blood splattered across his face. Alistair held Florien to him for a long moment, reassuring himself that Florien was in fact here. He could have lost Florien before they had ever met, if Florien hadn't been so resourceful, if Florien hadn't been so determined only the Maker knew what would have happened to the elf that had now become the center of his world.
That thought should have startled him. A man, no matter how pretty, was still a man and Alistair didn't like men. Not like that, not at all. He liked soft curves and pretty smells, lovely laughter, and well that nice warm place where you're supposed to…well you know. Alistair couldn't even think about it really, his upbringing smacking him upside the head because it was simply not gentlemanly to imagine doing that. Still Alistair couldn't, wouldn't, imagine a world without Florien. How could he even face waking up in the morning if he didn't know that the elf was going to be right there, in his arms, sleeping as peacefully as the Darkspawn dreams that slipped through would allow. How would they survive if Florien didn't distract Alistair with some wild tale or the phrase 'Oh! Look! A/n/the _!' and pointing, managing to get Alistair to look every time and while doing so slipping some herbs or meat or whatever was necessary into the stew to make it palatable. Alistair knew it was a ploy the third time Florien did it, but he continued to do it anyway. They were odd like that. They were bizarre and freakish and the very last of their order in a country during a Blight. Florien was a maker given saint, he put up with all of them, delegating chores, keeping them from killing one another. He was kind, and sweet, and smart. Maker's breath if Florien had been a woman, truly been a woman Alistair would have fallen for him. Florien wasn't a woman, and while he fell into a grey space, one where he'd protect Florien from everything he could, that he'd compare every woman he met now to Florien, he couldn't love Florien like that. He couldn't. He couldn't…
"I don't want Ser Bryant to die." Florien murmured. "I don't want to know I couldn't save him as well, not when he was so kind to me. He stayed at the Tower for an extra two weeks, pretending to be ill so he could make sure I settled in and that the other Templars knew of my situation. So that they wouldn't do anything to set me off. As an elf and a mage I cannot forget that kindness." Florien's voice didn't tremble, didn't waver despite the sadness in his tone and the acceptance that he could not save everyone he wished to.
Alistair felt something inside him break at that. Florien wasn't entirely used to receiving kindness. It was so important to him that he remembered an act of kindness from over a decade ago. He had wanted to return it, do anything, to protect the man who'd helped him. Yet Florien knew that it wasn't the right decision. He couldn't stay there and fight, defending a doomed village of people simply because one person was there that he had wanted to save. Florien was picking his battles, and Alistair didn't know if he could have done that. No, he knew at that moment he wouldn't have. He needed Florien in charge; he needed the younger man to guide him and all the others. Florien needed to be their leader because he was the best thing they had.
Suddenly Alistair didn't want to go to Redcliffe. If they went to Redcliffe Florien would find out about his issue, and then he'd be like everyone else. He'd act different, try and put him in charge and Alistair didn't want that. He couldn't do that because he was still too broken inside to be much help with anything except stupid jokes and killing things. Thinking, Alistair just didn't do the thinking thing.
"Let's go to the Circle. They're closer and we need supplies." He blurted out and Florien's puzzled face made him smile. Mulling it over Florien nodded, out of all the groups they had treaties for Florien was positive he'd be able to talk the mages into honoring it. It would be the easiest out of all of the assignments mainly because Florien knew whom he'd have to talk to. He also knew how exactly to convince Irving, he hadn't been Irving's star pupil simply because he'd be very good at magic. He was cunning and while not manipulative, knew how to get what he wanted from others. "Okay, but we have to keep Morrigan from going in, between her and the Templars we might get a battle no one's going to want to see. Bunbun would have no place to use the facilaties so that leaves us with Sten and Leiliana. Leiliana should charm everyone while Sten's disapproving presence shall certainly keep others from trying to do anything foolhearty." Settled on who to bring Florien leaned back, with their course changed the party of misfits settled down for the night readying themselves for tomorrows travels.
"Greagoir! What is happening?"
Florien had felt the wrongness of the tower as soon as he had seen it rising in the distance. His heart fluttered wildly, panic almost gripping him when he saw the pandemonium inside. The Templars were more than uneasy, they were themselves panicked. A panicked templar was never a good Templar in any mage's book.
"Abominations have taken over the Tower, we have called for the Right of Annulment."
Florien felt his world darken for a moment as he swayed, the blood draining from his face. "Annulment?" His voice was a whisper, breathy and panicked. "No, no I will not allow it. There must be mages left alive! What of the other Templars where are they? Where is Irving? Where is Cullen?" The inflection he used on that second name had Alistair curling his fists. No one should get such an inflection on their name, not sound so desperate and pained and hopeful all at once. Not when it was Florien speaking that name.
"I do not know. All that I do know is that they have taken it over and no one could possibly have survived." Florien reared back at that. "Mages are not defenseless! We will go. We will find survivors and clean out the Tower of this, infestation." Florien spat out the last word, filled with righteous fury and disgust. Abominations taking over the Tower? Disgusting. Unacceptable. Florien would not allow it to continue.
"Florien, why have you returned? It was said all Grey Wardens died at Ostagar." The Knight Commander's voice was suddenly softer and Florien felt his own anger retreating for a moment.
"Loghain lied Knight Commander." Teeth flashed, his eyes sparked, and all the Templars suddenly tensed knowing that this mage was angry. "He left us to die he left King Cailan to die, he is ignoring the Blight. I have survived and so has Alistair. We are gathering our allies, it is a duty that cannot be forsworn. We need mages Greagoir, and if there is even one left alive an untainted by evil then we will rescue them and have them honor their agreement."
"If you go through those doors Florien, I will not reopen them unless I hear the First Enchanter himself speak." Florien suddenly felt pain for this man, this man who had been like a father to him. Irving was gone, locked inside that hell and Greagoir had left him there. Florien could not decide if he would have done the same.
"Then my course is set. Alistair, Sten, Leiliana we're going in." His voice was commanding, compelling in a way that had all three of his companions moving with him. He didn't look back as he walked through the doors. Was this how the Maker felt when his Golden City was turned Black? Did he feel as defiled as Florien did seeing wave after wave of horror, death, decay, and hoplessness? This had been his home and now it was a nightmare.
Sten had been left behind to guard the children and other mages while Florien had replaced him with Wynne. Neither mage could keep the horror from their faces as they went room after room through this terrible hell. Then they were no longer in the room and were taken into the Fade.
This was worse than his Harrowing. He fought through spirits, mastered his form, used his will in ways that he hadn't before because this time everything depended on him. He didn't even have faithful Alistair by his side, shielding him from blows and driving enemies back when he low on mana. Bloody, broken, and exhausted he made his way through the traps and nightmares. He conquered them, fought the demons so fiercely that they knew just before they perished they shouldn't have fucking touched his companions or his home because Florien might be pretty and small and generally sweet but here put under pressure he was two steps away from just lunging at things and ripping their throats out with his teeth like Bunbun. Florien wanted his dog! Florien wanted Alistair! He wanted Leiliana! He wanted Wynne! He wanted Sten! Hell he even wanted Morrigan. Above it all though, through the fog and the haze of fury and frustration, he was thankful that Jowan wasn't here. Jowan had escaped and was free and he hadn't thrown his lot in with the maleficars here destroying the Tower.
Jowan had been many things, but malicious wasn't one of them. Jowan would have been just as sickened about what had happened to the Tower, despite the blood magic this sort of thing would have gone against Jowan's very nature. It comforted him knowing that. It also made him wonder, what of Blood Magic? It was forbidden, it was dangerous, but as he had seen so was just about every other kind of magic out there. Even creation, one could kill with creation if you knew the right spells. It was more of the mage himself than the magic he was drawn to. It had been these thoughts that had stayed his hand when the maleficar had begged for her life. Despite the terrible deeds she had done, despite all the foulness she had brought upon the Tower he had spared her. He had made her run and prayed that she would do as she had said and devote her life to the Chantry. No one had been happy with his descision but he didn't care.
"Everyone deserves second chances." Was all he had said with enough finality in his tone to keep the others from arguing with him.
Then when he had gotten everyone out of the Fade, had woken them from their Nightmares, and defeated the Sloth demon. Florien had gotten the Litany from Niall, he knelt over the body of the man who had been so much better suited for a life of peace and quiet. Niall's mother would be proud that he had done such a brave thing, even if she would mourn the lost life of her son due to the evils of magic. Fingers danced over the pale skin of Niall, closing his eyes and whispering that he would be burned as was his right. He was a hero, he should be buried as one.
Then it was Florien's breaking point.
"CULLEN!" Florien didn't care how loud he had screamed that name, or if abominations could hear him and come running. He launched himself at the barrier, hands pounding on it, fingernails scrabbling against it as he clawed at the magic. "Cullen! Cullen! Maker, get him out! Wynne get him out!" He didn't care if his companions commented that Cullen was tortured, that he had been deprived of food and water and had been surrounded by corpses, demons, and death for days. Florien had to get him out. "Someone get him out of there."
Then Cullen lifted his head from his prayers, eyes wild and desperate and he said things. Florien backed away in horror, a hand covering his mouth and tears freely fell from his eyes. What had they done to Cullen? Florien didn't see his companions' faces. He didn't see the compassion in Leiliana's eyes, or the worry in Wynne's. He didn't notice the fury of Alistair, who stood behind him rigid and threatening, his eyes hard and cold. He simply stared at Cullen.
"I-it is me." Florien's voice was choked and he once again went to the barrier, hand open as he splayed it across, wanting nothing more than to touch Cullen. He wanted to soothe him and he felt such bitter pain for being the root of his templar's torments. "Cullen it is me. Maker forgive me for what I've done to you. Maker forgive me, because I loved you too. I am a man and I wanted you like a woman would."
Cullen's madness cleared for a moment. His eyes cleared.
"Florien?" he breathed as if he couldn't believe that Florien was really there and not some Desire demon's illusion. Florien wanted to be ill, he wanted to claw the cage open with his bare hands, but he knew it was useless. "It's really you." Cullen's features twisted again with rage. "Kill Uldred! Kill them all! Blood mages with their wicked fingers inside your head. I'm the last, the others broke one by one." Cullen's voice broke and he looked up the madness back. Florien felt himself tremble, biting his lip to muffle the sounds of his crying. Cullen didn't seem to notice or even care. "I will kill Uldred and his followers but if there is even one mage up there who hasn't given in…who hasn't given up then I will save them. It is my duty."
"You have doomed us all." Cullen spat back at him and Florien felt his heart shatter briefly. "I will set you free, I promise. I won't let them hurt you anymore." Then Florien turned away, wiping at his eyes and trying to rebuild his composure. He buried his pain, he horror at seeing those who he had grown up with massacred so violently or turned into monsters. He could become that one day if he wasn't careful. He wouldn't though, Florien knew that if he could survive the Joining, if he could force death back thirty years then no demon would take him. He took his weaknesses and buried them, letting anger and wrath take their places.
How dare Uldred do this to the Circle? How dare Uldred betray those who trusted him?
Uldred was going to die.
Florien went up into the Harrowing chamber, the Veil gone wherever he passed, his fury ripping it apart. He wove spell after destructive spell. The other mages would liken Florien to some avenging elven god as he and his fellows beat back the abominations and killed Uldred. When it was over, when silence reigned in the Harrowing Chamber Irving slowly and painfully made his way to Florien.
"You have made your way back to us child." Gasping for breath and bloody Florien stared at Irving with glassy eyes. "Greagoir won't open the doors unless he hears you." Raspy and hoarse Florien's voice was a faint echo of what it normally was. Irving nodded resigned. "Then let us get down these stairs, curse whoever thought to put us in a Tower." Florien tried to chuckle but only a stuttering breath came out. Alistair came beside Florien and without a word picked him up. Alistair marveled at how light Florien was, really his friend should put on weight it shouldn't be this easy to carry anyone. "Could you help me down the stairs my dear?" Irving asked Leiliana, trying not to smile at the dark look Alistair was giving anyone who came too close to the weakened mage. "Of course Senior Enchanter." Leiliana smiled sweetly and Irving chuckled. Leave it to Florien to find another Orlesian to accompany him on such an odd quest as would lead him into a Tower filled with demons and abominations.
When they reached the Tower Entrance Alistair held an unconscious Florien closer to him. "The Apprentice quarters are relatively clean, we will be sleeping there and then we will talk in the morning." His voice broached no room for argument and the dark aura around him, so threatening and possessive, had the Templars shifting away. "Of course child, take him to bed he deserves it. All of you rest while we take stock of survivors, no one will disturb you." The Senior Enchanter gave a meaningful look to Greagoir before the Knight Commander reluctantly nodded his head. Alistair took the small elf into the apprentice quarters, not caring that Leiliana and Sten were following him.
"Will he be alright?" Leiliana asked Alistair as she began shedding her armor, rummaging around through some of the trunks and finding a robe to her liking. Alistair stripped Florien of his bloody and torn robes, using extra blankets around them to make some bandages that he first soaked in poultices. Wrapping Florien in bandages and gently as he could, ignoring the way that he had noticed new scars marring the pale skin, noticing now with newer clarity the older scars on Florien's back. "He will be, he's just tired from all the fighting. He didn't get a rest in the Fade like we did, he fought his way to us and when he got there he fought for us." He rested his hand on Florien's forehead, gently brushing the hair from his face. "He didn't abandon us to our nightmares even when it would've been easier to let us stay."
"It is not in his nature to do so. The Warden will not abandon his brothers even if it was the wisest course of action." Sten's rumbling voice came from behind Alistair. "No, I don't think he ever would." Alistair replied as he took off his bloody armor and laid it next to the bed he had placed Florien on. He took off his shirt, realizing that he had no wounds due to Wynne's healing magic. He wondered why she hadn't healed Florien but decided that those thoughts were best left alone. He needed to rest. Climbing into the bed with Florien he securely wrapped his arms around the small elf. Alistair's heart stopped beating for a few seconds when he realized that their skin was touching. So much skin, Maker for a man Florien had such soft skin. Feeling his face flush at the thought he held Florien closer, feeling no small amount of pleasure when Florien borrowed closer to him with a soft sigh.
Mi hermosa rosa sangrienta. Usted pertenece a mí y sólo a mí mi soñador hermoso. Olvídese de los inocentes. Chantry niños no pueden apreciar su belleza. Cuando yo me muera voy a tener para siempre. Yo vengo pronto, así que me esperan mi hermosa.