The throne room.
The heart of Vigil's Keep.
The heart of his home, now usurped.
Nathaniel kept his expression carefully neutral as he looked around himself. The room was smaller then he remembered, no doubt due to the years he'd spent abroad, but it was still the same...still his home. They had removed the old paintings of his family through the ages, as if the Howe dynasty had never existed, and replaced them with banners of the wardens, their white Griffon seemingly glowing against dull grey rugs of cloth... A clear sign of ownership, and another blow to Nathaniel's family, a kick aimed at someone who already lay bleeding in the gutter.
Nathaniel ignored it though, that wasn't what the room was about. The throne was still there at the furthest end of the large room, a simple thing of wood whose backrest still arched out on each end with the clear depiction of a roaring bear, the Amaranthine heraldry, his heraldry. Mostly Nathaniel remembered sitting in father's lap atop it though, playing with the buttons of the man's shirt as he tried to teach his all too young sons on how to deal with the local nobles.
The open fire in the middle of the room, kept in control by a ring of solid stone, threw the many wooden pillars at each side of the hall in sharp relief. The wood was a reddish brown, making the light from the fire more reddish then it should be, darkening the shadows the pillars cast even further. Nathaniel remembered hiding in those shadows, pouncing on his little sister when she least expected it, making her squeal in either fright or delight, depending on if they had been playing a game or not. He remembered his father scolding him when he tried to add to the carvings in the beams, to make his own decorations. He'd been so scared...yet by now he could remember such things with fondness, it had been foolish to ruin the craftsmanship with his little pocket knife...and his father had been scolding him with a small smile now that Nathaniel remembered back.
There was a large window just above him, the sun beaming through it, illuminating his father's murderer in her golden armour, making her glow as she stood before them, a large silver chalice in her hands. Did she know his brother had taught him to measure the time by where that beam lay? That Thomas whose death she was ultimately responsible for had grinningly told him how he always looked forward to the 'far right' time, when their father would let them go to play? Probably not...and by now it's only middle-time after all, I was always bored by that time. Nathaniel almost smiled at that thought, almost.
The throne room did nothing but remind him of old memories, of things that would never again be real.
And it's her fault. Nathaniel glared at the Commander, not at all surprised when she ignored him, his anger useless against the woman who might as well have been made out of stone.
A small cough thankfully drew Nathaniel's attention to the others in the room, away from his pain.
There were no guards, not anyone in the room save their 'Commander' and the other three 'hopefuls'. Becoming a Grey Warden...what a foolish thing. But if that gives me an opportunity to slip away and try to salvage my family name...so be it. I'm sure the queen would welcome the opportunity to show magnanimity to an old enemy and use me as an ally against some of the grumbling nobles I've heard of...as good a plan as any.
Nathaniel had of course come to understand that the joining could prove fatal, but that was nothing to think about. Either he died now, which would mean that he had nothing to worry about since he had not too long ago already been prepared for that...or he would live and then have an opportunity to continue his plans. Either way the joining is transitory.
The man left to him, a man that apparently thought himself as 'funny' and who had introduced himself as Anders...didn't seem to see it that way though, he was watching the large chalice in the elf's hands as if it contained his doom. The young man was pale, yet smirking a little, probably trying to come up with jokes in order to distract himself from thinking of the near future. Nathaniel sighed inwardly, remembering his grandfather, a great warden, Nathaniel's childhood hero...to think that the nervous man next to him would become the same was a joke.
As is the idea of the woman before us being a warden, guess the wardens have truly lowered their standards...he shot Lynn another glare as the elf begun to move around the fire between them and her, chalice held in both hands before her, her face unreadable.
Further to the left that sourly dwarf stood. To think that red haired man who even now stank of alcohol was the Oghren the songs Nathaniel heard in the taverns was speaking of was hard to fathom. Not perhaps his great destructive power in battle, the sizeable battle axe over his back was clearly not ornamental, but there was nothing 'noble' about him. Then again, what does one expect from warden propaganda? At least the dwarf didn't seem all that scared about the prospect of death at the joining, he looked rather bored actually, as if risking death was part of his daily routine. Maybe it is? Good...at least the wardens will have some good blood in it. Nathaniel shot Lynn a new glare at the thought.
Furthest to the left the patriot stood, ser Mhairi as she had introduced herself...a knight of Denerim and a patriot as far as their short conversation had told him, as Nathaniel had expected. Of all of them she was the only one looking eager, a light in her eyes as she watched the chalice come closer, her tongue darting out to lick her lips in anticipation. Nathaniel nearly shook his head. Obviously she desired to be a 'hero'...such naivety, heroism doesn't come with a sip of blood.
He had considered running when he noticed that there were only the five of them. Of course the others were armed...but Nathaniel felt confident that he in his loose tunic he could outrun them. But that plan had easily been pushed aside. Where was he to run? There were no doubt guards just outside the doors behind him, all over the castle for that matter. No, it was far better to drink the damn blood, become a warden and then leave the moment he got the chance...they wouldn't keep him locked into the castle once he was a warden after all.
It was a sound plan. Yet...
Yet...Nathaniel nearly grimaced, watching Lynn come up to stand before them, the woman's gaze lowered to the content in the chalice, silent, as if in prayer. She said I wouldn't want to leave once I joined...and I nearly believed her...why? The change wrought by the darkspawn blood can't be complete loyalty can it? no...I doubt that...yet she seemed so...certain...the thought of it was enough to make him shudder.
"Join us brothers and sisters." Nathaniel nearly flinched at the words, him and the other 'recruits' staring at the elf before them as she muttered the words, eyes still downcast. There was a different tone then before in her voice, not uncaring and cold, it was solemn, almost...soft.
Eerie...Nathaniel shuddered as the elf looked up, directly at him, or rather, through him, gaze distant. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant." Is it just me...or did the room get colder?
She looked over at Anders, the mage visibly shaking as the distant gaze looked through him. "Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn."
An oath? The drinking of the blood is an oath? No...that isn't it... Nathaniel swallowed, something with that sentence...bothering him, it seemed to imply something he at the moment couldn't grasp. His trained scouting senses tingled, warning him of a trap, yet he was unsure what the trap was, it didn't seem to be entirely physical...
"And should you perish..." Her gaze moved over to Oghren, slowly, her gaze becoming more present, meeting his eyes...and making the dwarf look away with an odd look in his face.
"...know that that your sacrifice will not be forgotten." Lynn's eyes became distant once more as she looked over at Mhairi, the knight looking back into those distant eyes. Shoulders straight, proud...yet looking a bit confused by the Commander that didn't seem all that concentrated upon the moment, lost in thoughts as she automatically performed the ceremony.
It is cold...Nathaniel shuddered, wondering what strange magic was at work even as he watched the elf look down into the chalice again, at the dark pool of blood within it, at her reflection.
Her voice was but a whisper. "And that one day...we shall join you."
Nathaniel swallowed, the Commander's voice was so different...he actually found himself longing for the uncaring viciousness it had had before.
"Mhairi, step forward." The Commander's soft words didn't need to be repeated, the knight eagerly stepping forth, hands held out to grasp the offered chalice.
She just stood there, holding the chalice, staring at its content with equal dread and eagerness...then shot Lynn a look, the Commander nodding...before moving the silver chalice to her lips.
A small sip...and the knight handed the chalice back to her Commander, the woman grimacing at the taste of the blood she had just drank.
Then she shuddered, blinked, a look of confusion in her eyes as she visibly wavered where she stood. Her eyes rolled back, exposing only whites...and then she fell backwards, loudly crashing into the floor. Maker...Nathaniel swallowed, staring at the now unconscious woman. "She lives." Lynn stated the obvious, considering the woman was visibly breathing, yet it elicited a gasp of relief from Anders, making Nathaniel shake his head. Mages...they don't know anything but their little field.
"Oghren, step forward."
The dwarf moved with far less enthusiasm, still looking bored. Yet when he took the chalice from his Commander's hands he managed a meaningful grin at her. His voice an amused growl. "Bottom's up eh?" With that he pushed the chalice upwards, chugging down a good sized amount of the blood as if it was nothing but water. "Ah..." He smacked his lips in obviously feigned appreciation as he lowered the chalice and handed it over to Lynn, his grin widening. "And here I thought you were special with yo-"
The grin faded, the dwarf cocking his head to the side, frowning as a hand darted down to his stomach, his other scratching his chin in confusion. Before him Nathaniel saw Lynn look away, the elf's eyes distant. "I'm sorry Oghren..." The words didn't sound sorry, just solemn, ritualistic rather then emotional. I thought they knew one another...
Nathaniel's thought was interrupted by a sudden shudder as Oghren doubled over, mouth opening wide as a gasping sound escaped him. Both Anders and Nathaniel took a step away as they stared at the dwarf, a dwarf now clutching his throat with both hands, as if unable to breathe. Oghren took a stumbling step backwards, his gauntleted hands digging so deep into his throat that it drew blood as his wide eyes became dark with blood. A swollen black tongue rolled out of his open mouth, limp and dead as he stumbled forward, his hands tearing a good sized chunk of flesh out of his throat as he vainly tried to remove the source of the pain...
Then he fell forward, crashing into the floor, blood already pooling around the torn throat...he shuddered a final time, a pained gasp escaping him...before becoming still.
Barely had he stopped moving before the words came: "Step forward Anders."
Nathaniel looked over at Lynn in surprise, having at least expected her to order the body removed before continuing the ceremony, but in the now hard and focused eyes focused on the mage there was no inclination of such a thing, nor any grief over the man the tales sung of him as one of her close friends. Apparently they got that part wrong...the cold eyes said nothing...I hope.
"Uh..." Anders took a small step forward, hands raised in protest. "Perhaps we should...you know...switch chalice first? Just a suggestion...seeing as he just keeled over drinking from it..."
Lynn advanced after the mage, eyes narrowing, her left hand holding the chalice as her right reached back towards her hip, towards her sword. "Step forward Anders." The order was clear now, leaving no room for protest.
Not only Nathaniel noticed the woman's movement, Anders eyes widening as the mage saw the hand closing around the grip of the sword. He licked his lips, gaze darting between her weapon and the chalice, judging his chances with both and apparently not liking either. "Right...as you say..." he grimaced as he reached out, gripping the chalice as he muttered: "Maker knows I've already been accused of blood magic..."
The chalice visibly shook as the mage's trembling hands moved it up towards his lips, the mage's eyes darting between the dark liquid and the prone dwarf that moments ago had died such a painful death by drinking the liquid he was about to ingest. Nathaniel didn't envy the man, he too didn't like the idea of drinking something that could kill you like that. But it was easy to reason it aside, Lynn wouldn't offer the mage the blood if she didn't think he had a chance of surviving, there would be no point...so logically there was no added risk because the one before had been poisoned.
Then again logic doesn't really help for most. Nathaniel sombrely noted as he watched the mage nearly drop the chalice as he pushed it against his lower lip and slowly inclined it. He stopped there, but Lynn's level gaze broke no argument...with a shaky breath Anders inclined the chalice enough to take a miniscule sip.
Lynn took the chalice from the man's hands, since the mage had frozen still, his body like a statue as he stared down at himself, at his chest, as if waiting for some monster to push out from it at any moment.
Nothing happened though, making Anders smile in visible relief. "Huh? Well that's a..." He blinked, a look of horror in his eyes when he opened them again. "...a...?"
Nathaniel shot Lynn a glance but saw that she didn't seem the least worried about the mage's chances. Then again she doesn't care whether he lives or dies...the bitch.
Anders shook his head, a hand coming up to push against his temple, as if trying to shake a headache...before he went rigid, eyes rolling back, exposing the whites and making Nathaniel remember to breathe as he realised the man would live.
With a thud the mage fell to the floor, twitching even as he lay unconscious.
Wonder what is happening to him...Nathaniel watched the mage twitch, as if dreaming, even as he heard Lynn's solemn voice once more call out: "Nathaniel, step forward."
This is it then...the moment of truth, live or die, this is my ticket out of this. Nathaniel looked back at Lynn, glaring at her even as he tried to ignore her promise. I will not stay with the wardens, her promise means nothing...
Lynn didn't seem fazed by his glare, neither thinking about the same thing. Her eyes were easier to meet at the moment, distant as they were, seemingly off in memories if Nathaniel didn't know better. Yet if I tried running or taking her weapons I'm sure she would be upon me in a moment...Nathaniel took the chalice, knowing there was no other option, that he had no choice but to continue with his plan. I will not stay, I will not.
Nathaniel swallowed despite his resolve. The silver was cold to the touch, despite its content. Despite the fire and sun...the room was cold. Everything was cold...and unnatural, making him shiver as he stood there, the chalice inching towards his lips. I will not stay, unnatural powers and maker knows what notwithstanding, I will not.
He glared at the elf, a last sign of defiance before...whatever awaited him. Her eyes became focused as she looked at him, not lost in memories but present, present and...sad! Without thinking of it Nathaniel took a sip.
A whisper.
It tasted bitter. Grimacing Nathaniel glanced down at the nearly empty chalice as he handed it over to Lynn, when he looked up he found her eyes hard and uncaring again, making him look away, his mind reeling too much to focus on meeting those dangerous eyes at the moment.
There was something...whispering...?
He found himself taking a step back, gagging as the bitter taste turned into coldness, frost, biting into his throat, burning him. The cold fire seemed to grow, gripping not only his throat but also his lungs, making it hard to breath as he felt a dark weight wiggle within his stomach, as if a snake had suddenly come alive within him.
Yet the pain was nothing compared to the...whispering...song? He frowned, confused, trying to comprehend where it came from...yet all he could think of was himself... It's not...making sense.
Then he shuddered, his body going rigid as he found the world fade away, darkness gripping his vision, a moving darkness.
Whispering...
8
8
8
Nathaniel gasped, clutching his chest as he found himself on his knees, naked legs resting on barren ground covered in sharp rocks, making him wince as they drew blood. Yet no sound came, his mouth moved to speak...and nothing was said.
Shaking his head he looked further down, realising that he was completely naked, naked and pale...as if he'd been drained of blood, sick...dead?
Yet he couldn't picture himself dead, it all seemed too...real. The ground felt hard and unyielding, the chest he was holding felt real, if oddly cold...he was there...yet not.
And the whisper was now clearly there, not any words, no true meaning, just a whisper, a call...from behind him.
Nathaniel felt an odd urge to heed it, to move towards it...but he pushed it aside, too confused to trust his instincts. There was something...wrong...not just him being naked...but there was a strange pain centred around his chest, at his heart. Not physical, not like that of his bleeding legs...but still there, and very real.
Another gasp and he got to his feet, eyes narrowing as he looked up...only to widen in shock.
The sky above him was black and lifeless save that of green clouds that coiled around one another like snakes, poisonous and lethal...promising a rain that made Nathaniel shudder in unreal fear. Yet that was nothing compared to the vast desert of brown dirt and rocks around him, surrounding him as far as the eye could see...and before him...
There were people in front of him, only a couple of dozen feet away...but their numbers stretching far beyond the horizon. Marching in a single column they were all as naked as him, men and women, elderly and children, humans, dwarves and elves...as one they moved in a slow slouched march, their torn feet covered in their blood.
None of them met his gaze, they couldn't, bloody craters where their eyes were supposed to be, blindly staring ahead, untroubled by the tears of blood running down their faces as they continued to their endless marsh.
Nathaniel took a step back, his horror echoing across the desert as much as within himself. The people slain in the blights...it had to be, Nathaniel realised it without thinking it, it was just...there, the reality...and it terrified him.
Then he looked back, his head moving on its own volition...and screamed.
The darkspawn were waiting, a mere dozen feet away a sea of darkspawn stood, their sharp fangs bared in gleeful grins as they stood there with lowered weapons still dripping with blood. A paste of flesh, guts and blood covered the ground they stood on, the remains of another column of dead...torn asunder by the darkspawn, their very souls slaughtered like cattle.
And from the darkspawn it came, the whisper, soothing, a siren call...that the all but Nathaniel blindly heeded.
No...
Nathaniel took a step away from the wall of darkspawn and looked backwards, seeing the endless line of dead people, calmly marching towards the darkspawn, towards their end...and he knew horror.
No!
He was suddenly moving, moving towards the line of marching dead, hands held out to stop them.
The one at the head of the line was an elf, a short man with auburn hair streaked with dirt and filth, his left ear cleaved off along with part of his jaw even as the craters that were his eyes looked straight through Nathaniel.
Yet despite the short stature of the elf Nathaniel found himself bouncing off him as he crashed into the man, sending Nathaniel tumbling into the dirt, sharp rocks boring themselves into his flesh, drawing blood.
The pain of his wounds was nothing compared to the knowledge though...his eyes were wide as he stared at the endless column of people marching towards the dark sea that was the darkspawn...the horrible knowledge that he couldn't stop what was about to happen.
He could only watch.
Watch as the column inexorably moved towards the waiting darkspawn, watch as the darkness waited, ready to tear the people, and their souls, asunder, watch as the first of the column moved into the sea of darkspawn...
Watch as people, unable to see, unable to care, were torn asunder by the darkness right ahead of them.
There was nothing to do but to watch...and to weep.
888
Thanks to Abydos Jackson for continuing her toil.