Disclaimer: I own absolutely and completely nothing. Bioware has that particular pleasure.
Summary: A City-Elf/Bann Teagan collection of drabbles and one-shots based on a prompt table from an LJ-community. These will be more or less in chronological order with the faintest traces of added plot here and there. Will vary from drabble length to one-shot.
Author's note: I looked at this prompt and thought 'who will fit the part?'. The reply was too obvious. I'm taking my dear time to reach the Archdemon, it seems.
In this chapter: Grey wardens do come in all sizes and flavors.
036.
Grey Wardens are interesting people. Almost enjoyable to be around, Levy thinks. They are mostly honorable people, a dutiful group with a strange way to see life and an even odder way to enjoy it. Duncan was the father type, responsible and strong. If he said that he could raid the Deep Roads, half the population of Ferelden would follow him with shovels and kitchen knives. Fade, even he would join, disastrous as he is with anything pointy and potentially deadly.
Loghain is the hero of River Dane and that is all the merchant can see in him. There's power in his every stride, in his every word and he can feel that suggestions aren't suggestions as much as they are his followers' next orders. It's simple, really. He's a figure one doesn't have to like in order to respect.
Even the new Warden is approachable. She's almost always in her little corner, giving him a type of awareness akin to a savage animal. He's later explained how she doesn't trust humans as a rule and makes a point to be extra harmless just in case – it really isn't that hard, to be honest. But she's easy to deal with – morning, afternoon, night, hello, goodbye, out of the way, darkspawn are coming.
Avernus is a whole new case.
"You are Sophia's descendent?"
The mage speaks in a doubtful tone, filled with sarcasm and dripping with disgust. It's like he's not enough to live up to his grandmother, like he's not even worthy to carry her name or blood. Avernus' eyes go up and down, up and down, up and down and Levy feels little more than the demon they just passed by on their way to the tower, an evil spirit using the Dryden name. Or a maggot the mage forgot to scrub of his immaculate boots.
"Levy Dryden." And it's really not that nice to meet him but saying that might be prejudicial to his health. "Nice to meet you." His teeth almost physically hurt. Must be all the lying.
Another one of those looks is his answer.
He feels uncomfortable here. The Tower is a torture chamber and this man, this man is nothing but a monster. His fear exists and travels in his spine, small shivers touching his skin every time the other male looks more closely.
"I do not see the resemblance," he says after what seems an eternity.
Well, it has been four generations. It is highly likely they won't seem similar.
"Er. I…"
"No, I truly do not see it. Sophia was decisive. Strong-minded, strong-willed, hard-headed. I didn't expect her blood to go as astray as this."
Er.
"Merchants? Your whole family was composed of warriors, boy." Levy has this sudden urge to arch his back, straighten as much as possible as a soldier for inspection. Every word is a blade, every sentence a punishment. "A merchant of all things. Not warriors and hardly nobles. Not remembered."
And right here too.
"Sophia would turn in her grave if she could see you now."
Yes, well, and who got her in her grave, huh?
Another turn and the mage is once again in front of her, stopping his impromptu evaluation with a look that just screams he decided Levy is nothing. Mikail is nothing. Brothers and sisters, nephews and nieces, parents who battled throughout the country to survive. This mage has no right, he thinks, a blood mage judging what they are and were, his family and what they went through.
"I am not here to impress you!" The words flee his lips easily, run ahead of him. "I don't care about you. You. You used your comrades, how low is that? And you got half of them killed by thinking through once they're done and buried. Very well done." He can do sarcasm. What a time to find that out. "I bet you're thinking just what you'd be able to do with the other three. I mean, that's all they are to you, right? More experiments."
Another long look, a smile that could be a smirk but it's definitely a smile. In amusement maybe. Dangerous, definitely, the answer which is positive and more frightening than all undead. Avernus would use them. Avernus would use the Wardens and even himself who is just a regular human. The only thing stopping him is maybe the Blight and the strength of those he walked with. Levy doesn't need a worded reply to know this, the fear running through his body once more, every shiver reminding him of danger.
Grandmother was a demon. This man is a devil.
In less than thirty seconds, he's by the Warden's side, watching as she raises an eyebrow, reads something, feels something and then nods simply. As if she seems to have an inkling of what he's thinking. She doesn't or she'd be running out of the castle without looking back.
Levy pretends not to notice how she never leaves him with Avernus after.
Tasha pretends not to notice how large of a discount he makes her.
Avernus doesn't pretend. He is amused beyond words.