May the Maker Watch Over You
Chapter 2
A/N: I had originally wrote the first chapter, because it was something that wouldn't stop pestering me until it was said. I honestly didn't think more would come out of it. Yet, here is another chapter (and I still have more swimming in my brain). I also want to take the time to thank those who have read, commented, favorited and followed this story. It warms my heart that someone enjoyed this. Here is my thanks: Kyla Baines, ErsbethShadowSong, and wildfire1977. Please forgive the mistakes, I proofread this myself and could have missed something. I am looking for a beta for this story, so if anyone is interested, let me know. :)
Also, wanted to let you know that I have drawn a picture of Ashiva Surana! You can find a link to my deviantart page to see it on my profile!
1/24/16 Edit: Added character pov headings. Proof-read.
Ashiva Surana, The Hero
The prisoner inhaled painfully, fighting to fill her lungs with air. She was slumped on the stone floor, lifeless, unable to remember how long she had been here, or where here was. The elven woman knew only a few things. One, the chill she suffered days ago had disappeared. Although relieved, she knew that it was a bad omen of her health. Another thing she knew was her mind was slowly being manipulated. Soon, she would be overwhelmed by the madness. She was uncertain of the authenticity of the memories she clung to. The faces of people she believed were allies and friends were becoming flawed and distorted but the ceaseless whispers.
She exhaled painfully, the broken rib making it a struggle. She could no longer call for help or scream, her voice exhausted from the tortured her that broke her resolve. The elf had nearly crumbled from the pain, seeing only nightmares. In her dreams she ran from an unknown enemy. In her waking hours, she observed the red crystal surrounding the three walls of her prison. The abnormal rock had grown, she was aware of that, but was puzzled as to how. Despite how far she pushed herself from it, she feared that it would soon eat at her, like a vulture to its prey.
How had she gotten into this prison? Her mind blurred through the details. She saw images a woman standing proud in blue and silver armor, a magical sword held in her right hand. The woman covered her head and face with the blue scarf to protect herself from the sand storm, looking behind her at dark haired archer, wearing similar armor. Who was this woman?
The images blurred again the elven woman kneeled; defeated as the lyrium chains were clasped around her wrists. Before her were two mages, another female wearing blue armor, a staff gripped tightly in both hands. The second was a male, his hair and face unkempt, like he had been in the desert for weeks. The elf pleaded with the woman, trying to find the right words to have the mage see reasoning.
"Clarel, this is madness. This will not help our cause but destroy everything we have built for our order. Raising the last Old Gods will only bring chaos. Thedas cannot withstand another blight! It nearly destroyed Ferelden."
"Is it no more mad than what you did? How did you survive after stabbing the monster through the skull? What did you and the bastard king do to deserve to live when so many have fallen before you," the mage, Clarel countered, her eyes cold.
The arcane warrior looked down, her fingers brushing against the sandy granite path. These questions unsettled her. They were secrets she would keep to protect those she cared for.
"This will not end the blights, Clarel. This will only destroy any hope for all of Thedas. What will the people do when there are no Grey Wardens? Who will stand against the darkspawn when we are gone?"
The man stepped up, looking at the mage. "She is no use to us like this," he advised, rubbing at his neglected goatee. "There is an organization that can hold her, help her see reasoning. I'll arrange for them to come and take her. They would help us."
Her mind grew hazy. She closed her eyes, focusing on something, anything to keep from subcomming to the darkness. The elven woman could hear it, pounding in her head. The singing was driving her mad, leaving little room for anything else.
"Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just," she whispered, her voice hoarse and worn. Her mind grew blank. What were these words? Where had she heard this before? "Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood the Maker's will is written."
"A Grey Warden Prison in the Vinmark Mountains? Its hard to believe, Bethany," Ashiva commented, tracing the route on the map.
"Believe me, I saw it Commander. I was there with my brother. What was there was atrocious," Bethany confirmed, shuffling on her feet restlessly. "I thought this was something that should be brought to your attention."
The young Mage had been recruited to the Ferelden Wardens nearly three years ago, after the Qunari had attacked Kirkwall. Ashiva admired Bethany, her kind and gentle spirit was something that soothed her and had settled the strong personalities of her assemblage. Since that time, the human mage had become accustomed to the misfited crew at Vigil, and even grown close to a particular member, Nathaniel Howe.
Ashiva nodded her head, carefully going through the documents again that elder Hawke had gathered and sent with his sibling. "It wouldn't be something too terrible to investigate. I also received word from the First Warden that we are needed to investigate the deep roads located near Kirkwall. I believe you have been there with your brother before."
The elf noticed how Bethany tensed. She knew of the woman's nightmares that woke her in the night. She had nearly died in there. Luckily, the girl had found Grey Warden Shroud who had taken her in. How she came to find the Wardens nearby, Ashiva did not know.
"Yes, Commander," Bethany replied, nodding her head in respect as she stepped out of the office.
Ashiva sighed, shaking her head. "What do you think, Alistair?"
"We can't really say no to the First," Alistair began nonchalantly. "He's already frustrated with us for the whole Fifth Blight and not dying tradition. And a Prison that held a magistar is worth investigating. I suggest we check it out. Maybe we could take in some of the sights of Kirkwall while we're at it."
"You're not going," The mage ordered, keeping her eyes on the work in front of her. She avoided looking at her long-time friend. "I need someone to stay here and keep Vigil afloat."
"Then who's going with you," Alistair challenged. "Ashiva, you're walking into some kind of trap. Just from what Bethany said about the prison, anything can happen in there. And the thaig-"
"Alistair, I already made my decision," Ashiva shouted, amber eyes meeting blue. "Nathaniel and Oghren will be the senior Wardens accompanying me as well as a dozen more Wardens to put your mind at ease."
Alistair frowned. "That really doesn't put my mind at ease."
Ashiva stepped away from her desk to rest her hand on the Warden's breastplate. "Someone needs to stay here and keep Amaranthine protected. I trust you to lead my men if something was to happen to me or to my city."
"I," Alistair swallowed, grabbing her hand to hold in his. "Just be careful."
Ashiva smiled, squeezing his hand in comfort. "Aren't I always careful?"
Alistair. The name brought warmth and comfort to her broken body. She could remember his face-bright blue eyes and a crooked smile and his obsession with cheese.
She also remembered the Grey Warden prison. It is where she encountered the dark magic that had disturbed her for years and where she met the Orlesian Warden-Commander, Clarel.
"Traitor," she whispered hoarsely. Her memory was beginning to come back to her momentarily, jumbled and unclear, but still returning nonetheless.
She squinted into the dimly lit room, taking in the details of the enclosed space. Red stalactites covered the walls surrounding her. Her right leg, broken by one of her captors, had been poorly splinted She couldn't call on her magic, the observation making her realize that someone was able to make anti-magic wards nearby. Propping herself on the metal bars of the cage, she brushed her hand along the twisted ropes around her right wrist. She knew it was promises to someone from her past but the throbbing pain in her head disrupt her thoughts of whom the promises were for.
"My name is Ashiva Surana. I am the Chancellor of Fereldan as well as the Arelessa of Amaranthine. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden," she spoke aloud the titles she had become familiar with for a decade, fighting for some focus in the scattered images in her mind. "I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am Ashiva Surana."
"You won't be for much longer," the melodic voice whispered, blending harmoniously to the music that left her uneasy.
Her heart skipped a beat. Was the voice in her head? Was it a demon? Had she be forced into the fade? Holding the bracelet tighter, she clung to the remaining understanding she possessed. "My name is Ashiva Surana. I am Chancellor of Ferelden. I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine. I am a mage. I am the Hero of Ferelden. I am a mage, an elf."
The weeklong traveling had left her weary and exhausted. Her dreams of darkspawn had evolved to incorporate her fear of water. She never felt more relieved to see land than when she saw the ancient Tevinter statutes that marked Kirkwall's docks.
Stepping a foot onto the brick docks, the elf checked with her subordinates, issuing orders in preparation for their trek into the mountains. She glanced at Nathaniel, handing him the maps she acquired. "I want you to take a few men and investigate the deep road ruins not far from here. I assume Bethany gave you directions as to getting there."
The rogue nodded, folding the documents and tucking them into his armor. "Are you sure you want to leave me with this?"
Ashiva smiled, resting her hand on his shoulder. "I have my trust in you to find what the First Warden wants and to return safely, my friend. I don't trust anyone more than you to do this," she confirmed. "Take five with you. You can choose whoever you like."
He acknowledged her with a slight nod, before stepping forward commanding a small group wardens. She smiled, watching as her second-in-command and long-time friend stood tall. Ashiva could remember when she had found him dirty and dishonored in a prison cell. Distrust was apparent in their first encounters, their conversations brisk and her eyes always watching him. Soon though, that distrust disappeared. She now couldn't imagine being without him in Kirkwall, fighting darkspawn.
Oghren laughed heartedly next to her, patting her roughly on the back. "Don't get too sentimental there, boss. At least wait until you have a couple of beers in you."
The elf coughed, clearing her throat. She looked down at the dwarf, grinning widely. "Do please save a few, Oghren? I'd hate to miss out on our drinking games."
The warden scoffed, raising his axe onto his shoulder with ease. "Aye, I'll try. But you best hurry up, or else I will finish the keg before you even step foot into Lowtown."
Shaking her head, she waved the dwarf off. Her wardens would be fine without her watching over them. The need to move urged her forward, her eyes wandering the wares and the colorful banners hanging above the streets. Although she had been out of the Circle for nearly ten years, Ashiva was still in awe of the city. She often took trips to Amaranthine to partake in festivals and celebrations.
The elf wander through Hightown, impressed with the climbing ivy growing on the stone mansions. The nobles gave her a wide girth, muttering to themselves. She knew their eyes followed her thirsting to have knowledge of her presence. She was grateful that they had little knowledge of who she was.
She stopped in front of the towering building, the red banners blowing in the breeze. The Chantry of our Lady Redeemer in Amaranthine, although beautiful in its simplicity, didn't compared to the grandiose golden statues and stained glass windows of Kirkwall's chantry. Drained from her trip, Ashiva surmised that prayer would invigorate her weary spirit.
She hadn't made it half way up the stairs when she collapsed, grasping her chest, shocked. Her mana was depleted leaving her defenseless. She didn't have to see the broadswords pointed at her. Templars.
"On behalf of the acting Viscount and Knight-Commander Meredith, you're coming with us," The man ordered, lifting her to her feet. She pushed away from the templar grabbing her arm, muttering incoherently. Why was it so hard to speak?
She was startled to feel metal clash against her cheek, yelping at the sudden contact. The mage coached herself to take deep breaths, laying on the marble steps. She felt the arms grab her again, dragging her down the steps. Ashiva stumbled to lift herself to her feet, her vision clearing.
There were two of them, faces covered by the grand helmets standard to the templar uniform. Swords were gripped tightly, ready to strike the "apostate" at their feet. Even in the blue and silver uniform, she was mistaken as a threat to the Order. Shakily, she moved forward, leaning heavily on the man to her left.
"You can't do this. This is the Commander of the Grey," Nathaniel shouted somewhere behind her.
Turning her head, she was surprised to see the archer step out from the shadows, bow aimed at the men holding her. Nathaniel had followed her around again. He often escorted her in Amaranthine, hiding in the shadows of the buildings and battlements. The rogue believed her something worth protecting. Was her friend such a fool to put the wardens in jeopardy because of her? "Nathaniel, stand down," commanded the mage. She caught a glimpse of Nathaniel's dark eyes, cold and calculated on his next target. "Warden, you have your duties. Perform them well, and I shall join you soon."
"Ash-"
"Nate, do not make me ask you again," she snapped. Standing upright, head held high, she eyed the templar that held her elbow. "You have me. Take me to your Knight-Commander. I would love to hear why they need to dispel a Grey Warden mage, one that is no longer part of the circle, of their mana when they haven't threatened anyone."
She was dragged through Hightown and back on boat (to her dismay). Lead through the Gallows, templars and mages alike stared as she walked by them. She could hear the whispers. 'Grey Warden?' 'Hero of Ferelden?' She stumbled alongside the templar, fighting the curses that she wanted to shout.
They halted in front of the large office. Well furnished in bookshelves and an ornate desk, she sat down in the high back red velvet chair. She looked around, her gaze falling on the broad shouldered woman sitting across from her at the desk.
"I presume you are the Knight-Commander," the elven mage stated bitterly, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Yes, and you are a warden. What are you doing in Kirkwall?"
Ashiva lifted her eyebrows, astonished. This was not the first time she had entered the city. Her and many others had traveled back and forth with little problems in the past. Why was it now that she had been seized and taken to the Gallows? "We have business outside of Kirkwall."
"What business?"
She was ready to tell the woman sod off, when the door was barged open, an elf dressed in enchanted robes, his dark eyes incensed. The Warden slumped farther into her seat, assuming things were only beginning.
"Knight-Commander Meredith, this is completely uncalled for," he declared, moving to stand beside the warden. "This is a Grey Warden. You are withholding this warrior from their duty by keeping her and the other Warden mages trapped in the keep."
"Warden or not, Orsino, she is still a mage and I will not have her or the others parading through the town causing havoc," the templar answered.
Looking between the two, Ashiva could sense the tension between them. She had heard the rumors of mage rebellion in Kirkwall and the tightened grip of the acting vicount. She never realized it was this bad. She remained silent, hoping to not stir the pot farther.
The door opened again. Ashiva frowned, turning to see who else wanted to join their little party. The familiar silver metal and insignia of the Templar order was engraved into the armor. Her eyes traveled upward, startled to see golden eyes and short curly chestnut colored hair. He hadn't shaved recently, but the sincerity she was accustomed too was there. "Cullen," she whispered unwittingly.
The Commander
"Cullen."
He darted out of the bed falling onto the wooden floor tangled in blankets. Bewildered, he looked around. Cullen wasn't in the circle tower, nor was he watching from a distance her cries for help. He was in his loft, staring at the torn holes in the ceiling. He knew it was night, the stars twinkling. Untangling himself and putting on his leather boots, he left the safety of his office.
The mountain air was crisp, wisps of air visible as he exhaled. Crossing his arms on the stonewalls, he observed the small fires surrounding the keep. He could hear the cheers and shouts in the tavern contrasting to the light and delicate lute played by the minstrel. He would normally close his eyes, relaxing to the calamity being here, but tonight the images behind his eyelids were averting and frightening. Watching his love repeatedly tortured and killed before him, agitated him. The dreams had gotten worse the longer he was left with no news.
The faint sound of footsteps alerted him of a prowler. Resting his hand on the pommel of his sword, he turned his head. The Orlesian Bard stepped out of the darkened shadows. "For the love the Andraste, Leliana," Cullen muttered under his breath, shifting his weight to allow the spymaster to lean against the battlements. "You could have alerted me it was you."
Leliana chuckled, tucking a red strand of hair back behind her ear. She had lowered her hood, revealing her delicate features. Her pale blue eyes glowed in the firelight, like a cat stalking her prey. The templar found it unnerving that she could hide in the shadows like a ghost, appearing and disappearing, as she liked. "Maybe next time," she stated, lightness in her voice he was unaccustomed to.
Cullen rubbed his neck, nerves overcoming his thought process. It was common for the bard and Antivan woman to tease him. Evelynn had picked up on this in the war room, smirking, as she would add to the tormenting conversation. Now though, he felt vulnerable. Leliana was an accomplished spymaster, seeming to know everything about everyone in Skyhold. "What can I do for you?"
The Nightingale cradled her head in her arms, her eyes distant and cold. "Did I ever tell you the story about when Ashiva arrived in Haven?"
The warrior's mouth twitched into a grimace at the mention of the mage that captivated him. Even now, he was willing to resign his position from the Inquisition and track the woman himself with the small portion of blood he had kept after destroying the phylactery. It was always with him, the tiny container hanged on his neck. "No, I don't think so," he answered politely.
"We had marched for days from Denerim. The further south we went, the colder it seemed to get, but Ashiva wouldn't quit. She kept going, determined. She had made choices that haunted her at Redcliff, letting the little boy die. She didn't want to repeat the same mistake," Leliana recalled. "We arrived in Haven exhausted, to find the place not what we expected. There was so much blood. It was...unnerving. We cleared the village, and made camp in one of the buildings that didn't have so much gore. Through her scavenging, she had stumbled on a tavern."
Leliana laughed softly, face full of mischief. "We ended up playing a game she played often in the circle. How she found the dice, she never told me, but here we were gambling. The first one out was Alistair. Poor fool had no skills in lying. Then Oghren became incapacitated. He kept drinking when he wasn't supposed to. And the game continued till there were only a Zeveran, Ashiva and myself. I don't remember how the game ended but when I woke in the morning, I sneaked out to see how she had accomplished this task. I unveiled her dice and found them blank. There were no marks whatsoever. I learned then not to play any dice games with her."
Cullen chuckled. He could imagine Ashiva cheating to win. It reminded him how she would cheat when she played chess. Once in a while he would let her. It added a challenge to the game. "I can imagine her doing that."
Leliana looked up, her face etched in curiosity and sadness. "Which brings me to why I'm here. Ashiva is one of my closest friends and the only person I trust completely. I haven't heard from her in some time. I have prayed for her safety and avoided thinking about what might have happened,"she spoke softly. "Alistair came to me before he left. He told me of the letter Ashiva sent and that you asked for him to search for her. I had expected if something had happened, you would have come to me. Why didn't you tell me?"
Frowning, the templar clenched his fist. Of course the warden would go to the spymaster. They had known each other for many years and had relied on one another during the Blight. Avoiding her gaze, he watched his men patrol the battlements.
"I wasn't trying to keep this from you. I didn't think much of it until Alistair arrived and explained the conspiracy in the Warden ranks. I went to him because she isn't usually far behind him. They've confided in each other for so long," he fought to keep the jealousy out of his voice. "I didn't think her disappearance was a concern of the Inquisition. The Inquisitor has enough on her hands as it is."
"Maybe the Inquisitor is busy, but I could have still looked into this. If I had known, I would have already sent my agents out. She could have already returned safely," Leilana chided, her eyes darkening in anger. "She is like a sister to me. If something were to happen to her...I-I don't know what I would do."
Cullen nodded his head, unable to argue with the woman. She was right. He failed again. He could imagine Ashiva now, a lopsided smile and eyes bright. "I know you're not that great at this...but, I'm just thrilled you're willing to try this with me." She would whisperer, her hand resting in his as if it had always been there. Her small pale hand always seemed to fit in his bulky armored one perfectly. He was disappointed to see his hand empty. He had felt hollow since she had waved him goodbye on top of the spotted horse she adored. There was a chance he wouldn't see her smile or hold her hand in his again.
Leliana grabbed his arm, drawing him out of his misery. "Lady Trevelyn arrived in the Western Approach a few days ago with little trouble on the road and has reported. She said that they found Grey Wardens under the influences of the Venetori. They were sacrificing themselves, to summon demons," she explained. "Alistair also wrote that Ashiva wasn't present, but they did find the warden she had been traveling with. They haven't been able to question him, but they will be returning soon. I asked Scout Harding and a few other agents to search the area to and to also to check to make sure nothing was missed. I have faith they will find something."
"What makes you so sure? Alistair didn't notice anything and neither did the Inquisitor," Cullen challenged.
Leliana smirked, standing upright and crossing her arms across her chest. "Alistair is a warrior and not necessarily the best to keep an eye on details. Evelyn doesn't even know what to search for concerning our friend. I wouldn't be surprised at all if she didn't know you were in a relationship. You tend to be reserved when it comes to discussing your loved ones," she pointed out. "Also, they're not me and haven't be trained by me."
"Harding will return by the end of the week with the information. In the mean time, we should be getting supplies and equipment. I will inform Josie of the situation and see what she can gather. I have a feeling we will be forced to wield blades against the Grey Wardens," she added, walking away. "Goodnight Cullen. I'll see you in the War Room tomorrow."
Cullen watched her walk away. It looked as if her form slowly dissolved in the darkness, leaving him alone to his thoughts. Although small, he still had hope for Ashiva had been found, unharmed. With Leliana and Alistair searching, perhaps they would be able to find her before everything came undone.
Weary with these thoughts, he kneeled on the hard rock surface, impervious to the thoughts and rumors that could rise about him in this moment of weakness. There was only one thing he could do in the meantime. Closing his eyes, he began to pray.
"The Light shall lead her safely
Through the paths of this world, and into the next."
Maker, please watch over her as you have done countless times before.
For she who trusts in the Maker, fire is her water.
As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,"
Keep her safe.
"She should see fire and go towards Light.
The Veil holds no uncertainty for her,"
Give her strength in her weakest hour.
"And she will know no fear of death, for the Maker
Shall be her beacon and her shield, her foundation and her sword."
Bring her home.