A/N: A/N at the end...
Disclaimer: see original disclaimer.
IV
The Iron Bull was flummoxed. Yes, quite flummoxed. And his superiors would be, too, when they read his report. He knew he had to send it; it was his job, after all, but he couldn't help but feel apprehensive. Every morsel of information he had only led to more questions.
The Herald, whom he had met upon arriving in Haven, was entirely what he had expected. No surprises there, thankfully. He was almost.. ordinary. A human Herald of Andraste for the human Chantry and a male noble to boot so that it conformed neatly to what the southern nobility expected. The man was more interesting; according to reports, he was a genuinely good person, yet uncorrupted by the trappings of his newfound fame. Bull wondered how long that would last.
The Inquisition as a whole also mainly fell within expectations. A fledgling organization that was still growing in personnel and influence. They had no discernible leader but competent leadership. Bull had met only one, the spymaster, but she had been a delight. She was singularly skilled and a redhead. Bull never could resist redheads.
His issues took the form of a small but shapely woman possessed of unnatural strength and clouded in intrigue. She was utterly mysterious, which only heightened her beauty, at least to Bull. Mystery was the enemy of spies, and yet, for all his skill, he could not unravel it. He had spent much time as they made their way to Haven talking to her, especially after their spar.
Bull felt his blood quicken as he re-lived, perhaps for the thousandth time, his brief exchange with Irina. It had seemed so utterly easy for her, and he still had a faint bruise on his knee where she had kicked him. She wielded her weapons masterfully, the kind of mastery that took decades, which was another paradox. She claimed to have had a successful career as a mercenary, which would explain the skill, but she was still too young. Well, she looked too young; Bull had an inkling her true age was greater than he should expect.
He also thought she smelled great when she fought, almost like a dragon. Bull wasn't about to add that to his report, though. He could always ask her.
He had also praised her poise in the hopes of drawing some nugget of information about where and how she had been raised. But yet again, he had discerned nothing. And it went beyond simple poise; she was regal. Not the false bravado and bluster he'd expect from most nobility.
He looked up and sighed deeply, his right hand absentmindedly swishing his tankard. He sat in a corner of the only tavern in Haven. It was a small building, and the space felt even smaller as seemingly all of Haven was crammed into it. Bull had come here an hour prior to collect information, well rumours really, since most often contained some small truth.
He had been somewhat successful in his endeavour. Not long after he had arrived, a group of soldiers had sat down a few tables over. They had started drinking, and after they had had a few drinks and caught each other up, they had turned to gossip. Bull and the rest of the tavern had overheard them discussing the Inquisition leadership, the Herald and finally the Stranger. He had perked up at that and listened more attentively. The soldiers had regaled each other with grander and grander tales of what each had supposedly seen Irina do, and if any had even the slightest truth to them, she was even more dangerous than he had thought.
Bull took a swig of his ale and sighed again. Soon, he would have to deliver his report to Red and make sure she approved of the content. He looked down at his ale and took another swig. Maybe it would all make more sense come morning…
-DoT-
"Let's go hunting!"
Maxwell gave a heartfelt chuckle at his friend's declaration. They had spent over a month in different places, and it felt good to catch up.
"Oh! I nearly forgot to tell you, but I got to use the sword you made me when I was in Val Royeaux. It handles like a dream. A death-dealing dream but a dream nonetheless!"
Max watched as a smile made its way onto Irina's face and felt immensely grateful for her presence in his life. Was that sappy? It felt sappy… Maker help me.
"Good," she answered emphatically, "I would not have given you anything but my best."
After a brief silence, Max spoke up, albeit a little meekly, "I had a question if you don't mind?"
He saw her mouth stretch into a slight smile, "Certainly, Maxwell, ask away."
"You can stop me if you find the question offensive, but I promise I don't mean it that way, but tell me if it's improper of me," he rambled, eyes boring a hole into the table until he felt a small hand on his sleeve. His eyes went up and met her gentle gaze. It held for a few seconds as he centred himself.
"What's it like… being as you are?"
"I know it's not as it used to be… I was very, very cold and so hungry for so long. But then I wasn't, and I am not entirely sure what brought about that change," Irina intoned softly.
"And what about the sun?" Maxwell asked after a few seconds.
"I do not know either," Irina sighed deeply and grew silent.
Damn it, maybe I shouldn't have pushed her… Maxwell reflected as the silence grew a little uncomfortable.
"It is as true as the sky is blue on Nirn, that the light is debilitating to Molag Bal's foul creations and yet… and yet here I stand on another world, standing in the sunlight as though it is the easiest thing. How many in Tamriel would have killed to be healed and no longer be afraid to leave the darkness? How many died or worse, gave in and afflicted innocents?"
Max nearly interjected, but Irina pushed on, looking lost in her thoughts.
"Regardless, here and now, the Hunger is almost nonexistent and rather manageable."
They spent a few minutes in companionable silence until Maxwell broke in.
"That aside," Max began, "would you like to join me for a meal? It would also allow us to meet the people I told you about, Vivienne and Sera."
Irina gave him a nod as they both rose from their seats and made for the door. Maxwell shivered a little as they stepped into the cool, crisp mountain air of Haven, the temperature colder now that the sun had set.
As soon as they stepped outside, Irina's shadows snapped to attention, and Max let out a long-suffering sigh. I understand the apprehension and fear; indeed, I do. If she had not helped me and been so understanding, I might have seen the monster for the woman and not the other way around. He threw an errant look to the two Templars that followed some ten paces behind them. I suppose it could be worse; there could be an entire squad of soldiers dedicated to watching her.
He saw Irina smirk slightly as their heavy footsteps echoed loudly.
She stopped and threw a look over her shoulder, a smirk adorning her face, "Speaking of hunger, blond and dour back there does smell scrumptious."
Maxwell heard a brief scuffle as Caleb restrained the former Knight-Divine and prevented her from drawing her sword. We didn't even make it more than ten paces from the door, and they've already lost their temper.
Max could hold his tongue no longer, and he rounded on the two following them, "You will control yourself, Templar! You are under order to watch and report, to only intervene if utterly necessary. You are not to antagonize your charge or respond to provocation! Am I clear?!"
A level "Yes, Herald!" came from Caleb right as Amara bit off, "But Herald…"
Maxwell sighed deeply, "I understand your zeal, but the leadership of the Inquisition has decreed that Irina is free to help us but has to be under observation. No more, no less."
"I understand, Sir, but she is dangerous, incredibly so if what little we have been told is true," Amara replied vehemently.
I didn't want to do this so soon and in the middle of Haven, but we might as well now, Max thought.
"Do you think you could stop her if she wanted to kill me or infect me?" he intoned coldly.
"Of course, that is what Templars are trained to do: stop mages."
"Alright, Irina, use a little magic if you don't mind," he prompted, only to receive a quizzical look.
"Are you certain? I do not want to provoke Lady Cassandra more than I already have," she answered, her brow furrowed slightly.
"I'll bear the consequences if there are any."
Irina nodded to him tersely and conjured a small flame into her hand. It wavered slightly in the cold mountain wind, yet no sounds came from the magical flame. Max nodded once and turned to the Templars.
"Now, Smite her," he stated.
"Now? Here? Is that wise Herald?" broke in Caleb. Maxwell fixed him with a withering look but stayed silent.
Amara felt no such hesitation; she stiffened, and Max felt a rattle in his teeth. As the wind faded, he focused on the flame. It wavered slightly but otherwise remained. He heard a grunt from the former Knight-Divine, and she said through gritted teeth, "Caleb! Sm-Smi-SMITE her!"
The Knight-Corporal threw another look Max's way, nervous indecision clear on his face. "Do it," Max retorted. After a moment of hesitation, Caleb turned his attention to Irina. All Max heard was a short grunt, and Irina's flame started wavering more aggressively. Several seconds passed as all three people were locked in a struggle invisible to Maxwell, though not entirely without evidence. Amara was set in a fighting stance, feet wide, knees bent, and a look of fury adorned her face. Caleb stood ramrod straight and was perspiring profusely. By comparison, Irina looked almost relaxed, though he could see sweat starting to bead on her brow.
Suddenly, Amara let out a short, loud yell and fell to her knees. Distracted by her outburst, Max glanced her way, and by the time he looked back to Irina, the flame had disappeared.
"Well?" he began questioningly, "Did it work?"
He was met with silence as the former Knight-Divine rose to her feet. Caleb attempted to help but was rebuffed quite rudely, Max thought. Irina, for her count, was staring at her palm, seemingly deep in thought.
Max cleared his throat loudly and earned himself three looks of varying intensity. He shrugged noncommittally, "And?" he queried.
Caleb was the first to speak, panting lightly, "It worked, I think. I thought I felt the magic get snuffed by our combined smite."
Amara, mouth open, went to speak, but Irina beat her to the punch, "Yes, I did indeed work. It felt… tingly."
A nasty rictus broke out on Amara's face, "It tingled?! What does that even mean?! You're supposed to be debilitated enough that we can subdue you! It's not supposed to tingle! Herald, it's not supposed to tingle!"
By the end of her tirade, she looked confounded and alternated between shooting Max pleading looks and staring dumbfoundingly at Irina, who couldn't entirely hide her smirk.
"I've placed my faith in Irina," Max interjected calmly, "and while the leadership understands she is dangerous, it is her character that leads me to believe she is trustworthy. I hope you will not make her feel like I am going back on that trust."
He followed up with a pointed look and held it until each former Templar had lowered their gaze in deference. Grandfather would be proud of me, the old coot.
"Now that the matter is settled, we'll be making our way to the tavern, and you are both welcome to come with, provided you relax once inside. Otherwise, you can remain outside while the other stands sullenly in a corner."
Caleb answered quickly, "No, Herald, we'll join you inside. Thank you for the invitation."
Maxwell gave them his most winning smile and resumed his walk to the tavern. Hopefully, the message will sink in this time, and they might make headway in accepting our resident Stranger.
As they wound their way from the cabin to the tavern, they were occasionally stopped by well-wishers, the devout or sometimes by soldiers, all who wished to greet their Herald. It was an exercise in patience for Maxwell, wholly unaccustomed to such attention, praise and the odd desperate plea. I feel like an exotic animal that has had the misfortune of being found.
Eventually, they made their way to the tavern some minutes later, and as they entered, a hush fell over the room. All eyes turned to them, and Max, despite everything and himself, felt the heat rise to his cheeks. Thankfully, Sera came to his rescue.
"Give us a wave Maxy, don't just stand there looking daft."
Maxwell felt a little like a child, standing in front of a crowd for the first time.
"Um… Hi?" he said halfheartedly, sweat starting to bead on his brow. No one answered him, yet they all continued staring, some with far too little blinking. He slowly made his way forward towards Sera's table, and the crowd parted for him, much like it had when he first woke up.
Max and his retinue quickly and easily made their way to Sera's table and crowded around it, each settling in his or her seat. As they sat down, the door slammed open to reveal a sneering Madame de Fer, as she insists on being called. She swept the room until her eyes settled on their table and then, nose high, made her way over unhindered.
She stopped near him and waited. Max noticed the very pointed look she shot the Templars and only relented when Max saw Caleb flinch, get up from his seat to Max's right and walk around the table to stand behind Irina. Finally, she gingerly sat down and turned towards him with a decidedly practised smile.
"My dear Herald, perhaps you could have chosen a more.. civil setting for our conversation, yes?"
"Unfortunately, the leadership has decided that Irina is not welcome in the Chantry unless summoned. Thus, our meeting must be somewhere else as she is integral to our talks," he replied with a placating smile.
"Truly? All I have heard of the Stranger, or Outlander as some refer to her, is that she is quite competent in combat but not much else."
Max grimaced at her choice of words, "Well, this is her," he told Vivienne as he gestured to Irina, "And feel free to ask her questions. If nothing else, she is adept at Magic wholly different to your own," he added as diplomatically as he could.
He watched as Vivienne angled her head towards his mysterious friend and ever so slowly raised a manicured eyebrow.
"Well, I suppose she will have to do. So 'Outlander,' where are you from?"
Max watched as Irina gave Vivienne a small, slightly feral smile before answering.
"Far away," she said tersely.
Seemingly unfazed by the non-answer, Vivienne carried on.
"And why, pray tell, is Irina from Nowhere here helping the fledgling Inquisition?"
"I am here," she answered, her smile widening, "because I am meant to be."
Maxwell thought he saw fury flash briefly in the Enchanter's eyes at Irina's answer, though he blinked, and it was gone.
"I see. Do you have anything to bring to the Inquisition at all?"
Max watched with dread as the atmosphere between both women became charged, as both intently focused on one another.
"Specific expertise," came the slow, enunciated reply.
"Perhaps you would care to elaborate?" Vivienne
As he watched, enraptured, Max realized he had been holding his breath for as long as the exchange had been going. Maker, I hoped they could get along or, at the very least, tolerate each other. With a conscious effort, he tore his gaze from the two women and scanned the crowd. Nearly everyone was listening distractedly to their table and pretending not to. His eyes found Iron Bull sitting in a dark corner of the tavern. As they made eye contact, he gestured to the Qunari to come over. His attention was drawn back by a short, high laugh to his right.
"You hunt dragons?" Vivienne exclaimed, her voice full of disbelief.
Having been uncharacteristically, as he had learned the hard way, silent until now, Sera practically exploded into questions.
"Really, really? Dragons? All on your own?" she shot enthusiastically.
Irina turned to Sera and favoured her with a smile, "Yes, really, really, I hunt dragons; it is my purpose, one might say."
"You cannot expect us to believe you hunt dragons all by your lonesome," Vivienne broke in, tongue sharp and unrestrained.
"Oh hush, Vivy, I think Irina does hunt dragons, and it sounds wicked!" Sera giggled excitedly.
"Well, you will all have ample opportunity to verify for yourselves, as Max tells me we are about to embarque on a dragon hunt in the Hinterlands," Irina replied calmly.
At that, every eye around the table, and perhaps in the tavern, turned to Maxwell, who barely managed not to blush.
"Is that truly the wisest use of our time, Herald?" Vivienne questioned.
"I believe so," he answered simply, "while the Inquisition builds itself, the team of specialists we have started to assemble needs to be able to function together to ensure that we can face whatever is responsible for this mess. Plus, it has the bonus of ridding the Hinterlands of a possibly dangerous dragon, a win-win in my book," he added with a smile.
"Perhaps this idea does have some merit," Vivienne replied, "We shall see."
Well, I guess this is as good as it's going to get. Hopefully, our expedition will help us all get along.
Their conversation was disturbed as the hulking figure of Bull suddenly loomed large over Caleb, whose hand twitched slightly towards his sword, and with a deep, rumbled "Pardon me," grabbed the chair he had dragged over with both hands and set it to Irina's left and sat down opposite Amara.
"Thank you for joining us, Bull," Maxwell started, "I believe you've met most everyone at the table, save for Sera, to your left, and Madame de Fer here beside me."
"Be sure to call her Viv or Vivy," Sera chimed in happily, "she's fond of both!"
Max winced in anticipation of the coming eruption; Maker Sera's going to net me an earful.
"You will address me as Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais or Madame de Fer, not Viv." she intoned with steel in her voice."
Max saw Bull backpedal hurriedly as his frame stiffened, "Oh right, Ma'am! Sorry… Ma'am."
"Mmm, yes, Ma'am works as well."
"Well… with that out of the way," Max said, turning to the Qunari, "Bull, tomorrow we're heading out to the Hinterlands to investigate reports of a High Dragon nesting in the northern parts of the region. You feel up to some dragon hunting?"
The most genuine smile Max had yet to see from him split the man's face, "Now we're talking! I didn't think I'd see this kind of action so early in the gig!"
"It'll take about four days of riding to get there, and we'll take another day to ensure everything is going smoothly in the Hinterlands. Once we've done that, we'll track down this dragon. Any suggestions, questions?"
"Yes," Vivienne cut in, "how many people does your specialist group include?"
"There are nine of us in total with diverse fields of expertise," he clarified. Vivienne nodded tersely and grew silent.
"If you'd like more information, Madame de Fer, you may ask Lady Josephine. By now, she should have the necessary information on all the prominent members of the Inquisition and could be persuaded to give a simple overview of anyone," Max disclosed in an even tone.
"Yes, I believe I shall do that upon our return from the Hinterlands," Vivienne added.
"If that's all," Max said as he got up, "I'm going to turn in for the night since we have an early start. Good night."
A round of well-wishes echoed from the table as he approached the door. Once outside, he realized Irina had followed him and was staring intently at him.
"Uh.. yes?"
"When we confront the Dragon, I would like the opportunity to engage it alone first," she queried solemnly.
"I suppose I can have everyone hold back for a minute or two while you do… what are you going to do exactly?"
She grew silent for a few heartbeats, and her face went utterly still. What did I say this time? Maker, I keep putting my foot in my mouth. No. As the leader of our little adventuring group, I ought to know.
"I want to…" she started strong, but her voice went lower and lower, and Max couldn't quite catch the end of her sentence.
"Yes?"
"I want to try speaking to it," the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth in a rush, and Max couldn't help but gape at her a little. How unlike her, he thought.
"Wait, you want to talk to it? Can dragons even speak? They have a language? And you know this language?"
"Do not mock me, Maxwell," Irina groused, "of course Dragons can speak. They are intelligent beings capable of many things. Or at least they are where I come from…"
"Oh, right! Of course! If you want to try… talking to the dragon, sure, I can make sure you get a few minutes," he replied hurriedly.
She stared at him briefly before smiling brightly, "Thank you."
"I wish you a good night. I promised Josephine I would make time for her before we set out again."
I'm glad she's getting to know some of the others, Max reflected. At least this way, they get to know her too, and maybe they'll be less inclined to try and chop her head off…
"Sure, don't let me keep you! Good night, Irina."
She nodded with a slight smile before she turned and started towards the Chantry, her shadows a few steps behind. Max stared after them briefly, then headed to his cabin. He would need all the rest he could get if they were going to fight a dragon.
-DoT-
Irina made her way deeper into the Chantry at a slow pace. She felt weighed by the possibilities of the future, the potential for disappointment equal in scope to her hope. Hope she hadn't allowed herself to feel since being stranded in this strange world. She still occasionally cried when she least expected, with a simple thought of her children, of her family, and when it happened, their loss felt as fresh and raw as ever.
She felt a little more acceptant of their loss as each day passed, and the daily distractions helped to keep her distracted for the most part.
When she made it down the large hallway, she opened the door to what was essentially the diplomatic centre of the Inquisition. She was greeted with the familiar sight of Josephine behind her desk, hard at work on bettering the global standing of the fledgling organization, scribbling away on a piece of parchment. The Ambassador looked up at her entrance and graced her with a smile. She gestured with her head to the empty chair, and Irina sat down on the edge of the chair, posture as straight as had been drilled into her head at the Imperial Court. Old habits died hard.
"Ah, Irina," Josephine began as the former Templars settled against the far wall, "Welcome. Is it that late already? I seem to have lost track of time."
Irina smiled back at the woman. She tended to get mired in her work and only come up for air when utterly exhausted or terribly hungry.
"Yes, I have come to continue our talks. I believe we last left off with a promise to educate me in this world's politics further."
"If we are to talk politics, I would like to know if you have any experience dealing with 'the Game,' as the Orlesians call it," Josephine replied enthusiastically.
Irina hesitated. How much to reveal? I do think Josephine is worthy of trust, but there are things I would rather keep to myself.
"I do not know this 'Game' you refer to, but I was part of much political intrigue in my youth, and later I became the E… a member of the Imperial Court of Cyrodiil where the Emperor sat on the Ruby Throne. It was an interesting time filled with a very different kind of danger, one that I was wholly unaccustomed to."
Josephine leaned forward, eagerly drinking in Irina's words, "Truly? A member of an Imperial court…," she drifted off, "My that is wonderful. I do believe you will require far less instruction than I had thought!"
"And just how much instruction did you think I would need? Do I seem like such a brute?" Irina asked with a wide smirk.
"No! No, of course not. I didn't mean to imply such…" she began, eyes wide in panic until she noticed the wide smile on the Dragonborn's face. My, she is fun to tease… so was Sofia, she thought with delight, though it quickly turned sombre.
"You were making fun of me, weren't you? How positively evil of you!" the Ambassador giggled.
"Yes, that's me, the most evil of all."
"Well, that is simply untrue! But regardless, I'm glad you are well-versed in the subtleties of court intrigue. Now, all you need is the specifics of the courts here. Let us start with…"
They spent some time discussing the intricacies of the various nations in Thedas and their relationships, ideologies and policies. Once Josephine was satisfied with the knowledge she had imparted, she bid Irina good night and left to sleep as much as she could afford.
Irina returned to her cabin and whiled the hours away, delving into her knapsack and meditating on her Dovahsil. When the night was at its darkest and Amara had gone to get some sleep, Irina sought out Caleb by his heartbeat and found him dozing off in the cold wind a few feet from her door.
"Caleb," she called and called again louder and louder until he finally looked up, "Come in. You look as though you are ready to turn to ice."
He hesitated briefly, but the warmth filtering through the door was too inviting or the cold too biting, and he shivered and stepped into the house. He made a beeline for one of the chairs near the fire and sank into it with a drawn-out sigh.
"Thanks," he said simply as he stripped some of his armour off and leaned closer to the fireplace.
"Well, you may be charged with watching me at all times; however, that does not mean you should suffer the cold, dark night when you can do the same from in here."
"The Knight-Divine wouldn't be happy to find me like this…"
"Well," she intoned conspiratorially, "it can be our secret."
"Uh, well… that is, maybe? Sure…" he blushed brightly, eyes glued to Irina as she made her way to the rug between his chair and the fire and sat cross-legged.
"Could you tell me why Amara is so set against me? Please?"
"I, uh, I think Amar… I mean the Knight-Divine, she didn't use to be like this. She was one of the few Templars to rank as she did, and they… they had the ear of Divine Justinia nearly as much as her Left and Right Hands."
He paused and, for a few moments, seemed far away from this small cabin on the slopes of the Frostbacks. Irina could hear the wind rushing down the mountain to buffet the cabin.
"We were called away that day. The Divine had decided she wanted Amara amongst the Templars nearest to the Mages, all those not important enough to go to the Temple. She took me and one other recruit, this headstrong girl barely through her Vows but so strong in her powers, down to Haven to keep the peace. What peace, though? What peace can there be when, later that day, the world ended? The other Knight-Divines all died on that mountaintop. The girl ran off to die of lyrium withdrawal or join the rebels in the Hinterlands and die anyway when we cleaned the traitors out. And Amara, she just broke. She was always strict and demanding but never to the point of excess. The most important things to her were always her duty and the Maker. She used to drill us and drill us on our purpose as Templars, and if just one of us gave an answer that wasn't satisfactory, she'd all have to do extra training. Now, I don't know. When Commander Cullen showed up, she should have been the one to lead, not him, but she refused and asked to be a guard and nothing more. She says she's happy where she is, but at the same time, she's so angry these days…"
Irina felt a little transfixed by the man sitting in front of her. And the girl's behaviour makes far more sense now. She feels she has no place in the world, no place being in charge, and the last she has to hold onto is her duty to watch me.
"I shall apologize to Amara for my crude words," she said with a thoughtful nod," and thank you, Caleb, for helping me understand," she said softly. He turned to her and stared into her eyes.
"Yeah, well, nights like these are made for secrets. But that one wasn't free, a truth for a truth, Mysterious One."
How sly of him, she thought with a chuckle. I underestimated him. She turned and threw another log into the fire, though she was not cold.
"Very well. This will require mead," she got up, went to her pack and rummaged in it for a minute. Eventually, and with a slight exclamation of victory, she pulled a bottle out and returned to her seated position by the fire. She opened the bottle and took a long sip, eyes closed in enjoyment. She then offered it to Caleb.
"Here, try it. It's from my home, and as common as it is there, it is nearly unique here."
She watched as Caleb drank timidly from the bottle first and then took a much larger swig. He then handed it back to Irina.
"The first man I ever loved, I killed by my hand. He was an older man who helped me survive after I was kicked out of the orphanage on my sixteenth name-day. For two years, I spent every waking moment pining for my hero, only for him to turn around and reveal himself to be a backstabbing bastard. He stole from me, used my adoration, crushed my heart and left me for dead. Never really regretted it too, said it was a good lesson on how the world worked and that if he had not taught it to me, someone else would have invariably. Smug Daedra-loving…"
She shut herself up with another pull from the mead and returned the bottle to Caleb. He looked at her in shock briefly but took the bottle nonetheless.
"Did he have a name, this heartless bastard?"
"His name was Mercer, and he died alone, defeated and gurgling in his blood. The world was better for it."
There was a pregnant pause as her words echoed briefly in the cabin. Caleb looked between shocked and impressed as he took a sip from the bottle and returned it to Irina.
Brynjolf made a fine Guildmaster, and Karliah after him, too. I wonder how she fared when I disappeared.
"I don't have anything quite like that to share," Caleb started, "I grew up with my parents and a handful of siblings, and we may not have been rich or nobility, but we were happy. The only truly challenging thing that occurred during my childhood was my sister being taken away to the Circle. It's why I became a Templar, to find her and look after her in the Tower… she didn't survive her Harrowing."
Another swap of the bottle.
"You know, where I come from, everyone can use magick if they put their minds to it. There is no inherent danger save for accidentally setting fire to your surroundings. All it takes is a little will and a lot of practice. While certain individuals choose to turn to murder to fuel their magick, many choose to simply study it, becoming scholars. I was one for a while."
The ale changed hands.
"That sounds… that sounds… I don't know how that sounds. Terrifying? Or just different? No need for Templars, I guess, since… actually, are there spirits? A Veil? A Fade?" Caleb queried with mounting confusion.
Another swap.
"Ah no, actually, we do have our own kind of demons, but they operate under very different rules, so indeed, there are no organizations who fulfil the role of Templars in Tamriel."
She went to pass the bottle but found it empty.
"I suppose that ends our little game," she remarked a little sourly, "I will retire, but you are welcome to the armchair. It should be more suitable than the cold outside."
Caleb nodded his assent and shed more of his armour as he made his way to the chair, "thank you," he stated as he sat down and made himself comfortable. Irina stared at him briefly, smiled and slid into the covers. A few seconds later, she snapped her fingers, and every candle was snuffed simultaneously.
It is good to find the person under the armour. It may be possible with Amara as well. Regardless, tomorrow is the start of a journey that leads to a Dragon… and, if the gods are clement, answers to some of my questions.
-DoT-
Maxwell was up early on the morning of their departure to prepare for the journey ahead. He'd saddled and fed his horse, which I should name probably, and managed to go through his katana forms by the time the whole party was ready to leave.
They traded stories and jokes as they made their way to the Hinterlands, a four-day journey thanks to their horses, and arrived near Redcliff in good cheer. Checking in on the Hinterlands had been immensely satisfying for Max. The people were now provided for and seemed in much better spirits. Travel seemed safer as well.
Their base was set up near the opening to a cavern that supposedly led to the dragon's lair, at least according to reports.
They arrived early in the evening, and by the time dinner rolled around, the camp was set and the guard posted, though they didn't expect much trouble, having recently cleared out the Hinterlands of rogue Templars, Apostates and bandits.
Max sat near the fire, staring at it intently as the others settled around the campsite. When he noticed everyone was seated, he stood.
"We're gathered here to test our mettle against one of the fiercest beings found in Thedas. All of you are the tip of the spear for the Inquisition, burdened with charging headlong into the most difficult and dangerous situations, tested again and again. This is only the first of those tests."
"My, how solemn of you Handy. You know this will make one heck of a story later, 'The Herald and his merry band, Dragonslayers!' Should get us drinks in most dives," Varric cut in with his typical snark.
"Well, yes, but I felt I should say something since we'll be taking on a dragon tomorrow."
"Perhaps a touch to dour dear, though the sentiment is appreciated," Madame de Fer chimed in.
"Yeah! Plus, we get to fight a dragon in all its dragony..ness. Aren't you excited?!" Bull added enthusiastically.
"I've never fought a dragon before. Do you think bees would help?" asked Sera, turning to Bull.
"Hmm, maybe if you could get them to sting the eyes, it might help… can you do that?" he queried.
"Don't be daft. The bees do what angry bees do after I chuck the jar, that's it."
"Don't tell me I've got to watch out for bees on top of everything else now?" Blackwall broke in.
"Nah, I don't got any on me. It's too cold up in the Frostbacks. The bees can't survive," Sera replied sadly.
"And we are grateful for that fact," added Cassandra.
"Right! Before this degenerates any further," Max spoke up, "Irina has asked that we allow her to engage the dragon alone before the rest of us do so. I have granted her request."
All at once, they all started arguing for various reasons. Cassandra wanted to keep an eye on Irina still, Bull wished to fight the dragon head-on and not have it be softened up, Sera wanted to help, Blackwall thought she shouldn't go into combat on her own, Vivienne just snorted and wondered aloud if the girl had a death wish, Varric just stared at him as though he had grown another head and Solas… well Solas just smirked like this fell entirely within his expectations.
"Enough. Enough! Everyone settle down, and I'll tell you why I'm allowing this," he looked around after his outburst and waited for all gathered to grow quiet.
"The truth is fairly simple, Irina asked, and I trust her, so I said yes," he lifted his hand quickly to forestall any other comments, "Also, that way, the Inquisition Leadership can have a look at some of Irina's abilities.
He gave Cassandra a very pointed look. Hopefully, she gets it and gets off my back… right that's likely.
Solas asked next, "How long should we observe before intervening?"
"I agreed to give Irina two minutes after which, no matter what, we go in," Max replied solemnly. Solas nodded his understanding.
Bull raised his hand, "I've got a question for the woman herself."
"You don't have to raise your hand, Bull," Maxwell offered with a smirk, "You can just ask your question."
"Sure, sure," the Qunari replied, "So what you're gonna try and kill, what all reports indicate is a high dragon, by your lonesome?"
Max saw Irina pause briefly before she spoke up, "I want to talk to the dragon."
This time, Cassandra couldn't resist commenting, "I am sorry. I thought you said you wanted to talk to the dragon!? Dragons can speak? Since when?"
"Well, the ones I knew could speak and were just as intelligent as any of us."
Why does she have to shatter Cassandra's world view every! Single! Time! It's like she does it on purpose. Her very own game of 'Mess with the Seeker.'
Cassandra couldn't seem to muster an intelligible answer and only grunted in shock before clamping her mouth shut and growing silent. Max looked around and found more questions in his companions' eyes. He sat back down with a heavy sigh.
"Look, I'm sure you guys have questions, but let's go over the plan for tomorrow, and then you can pester Irina while I go sleep, deal?"
A series of nods greeted his question but little else. Guess I can keep going then.
"Feel free to chime in whenever. I was thinking Cassandra, Bull, Blackwall and me in the front; Bull in the middle as the biggest target," he gave the man a nod but kept going, "We'll be the ones grabbing the dragon's attention so we'll make sure to stock up on Fire Resist Potions."
Max glanced around to make sure everyone was following. Once satisfied, he continued.
"Varric, Sera, your jobs are to do as much damage in the openings we in the front give you as possible. Target the eyes, the joints, whatever it is so long as it hurts and keeps the dragon occupied."
A thought bubbled up into his head, and he adjusted his plan on the fly.
"Oh! I just had an idea!" he turned to Solas and Vivienne, "Can both of you use Ice Magic?"
"I certainly can," Vivienne answered with her usual flair.
"I am able as well," came Solas' more straightforward answer.
"Good! Then I need both of you to focus on the wings at the start of the fight, try to keep it grounded as much as possible, and most of all, keep safe people…" he paused briefly, "Does anyone have any suggestions?"
"I do have one note," Cassandra interjected, "If it is indeed a high dragon, it might have dragonlings that will attack us once we attack the mother. Someone should deal with them if they come up."
I hadn't even thought of dragonlings, damn! Who could do it though? Everyone is already playing an essential role in this. Not Varric or Sera, that's for sure. I guess one of the Mages might be best for the wide area they can attack, but they are both needed on the wings… Oh, I know.
"Irina, would you mind taking care of the dragonlings should there be any?" he asked solemnly.
"I shall do so should the need arise, Maxwell."
"As for your shadows, they shall follow you as usual. They should feel free to fight along with the rest of the frontline."
"Yes Herald," both Templars responded.
"Right, well, does anybody else have anything to add?" he stared each in the eye, but when silence greeted him, he moved on.
"No? In that case, everyone should get to bed soon, but that's it, meeting over."
Slowly, over the next few minutes, everyone drifted into smaller groups until only Varric remained. Max looked him over briefly while poking absentmindedly at the fire. The Dwarf maintained his peculiar crossbow with an almost religious zeal, fiddling with different parts of the contraption, oiling the parts that needed oiling and occasionally caressing the varnished wood.
"I see you eyeing Bianca, Handy. I'd like to kindly remind you to keep your mitts to yourself," the storytelling dwarf intoned gravely.
"I was just wondering… who made it? And uh, why haven't I seen more of it?"
"Sorry, Handy, that's a secret," Varric answered.
"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean to pry. I was just curious."
"The important part is that she's one of a kind, and it's better that way."
Their conversation fell into a natural lull, and Max gave a wide yawn. He stood and stretched before he went to the forest to relieve himself. Once he was done, he returned to his tent. After one last look at the camp, he tucked himself in and was soon asleep.
-DoT-
The Dragon flew through the verdant, green air in search of prey. It sniffed the air, looking for signs of the intruder. Its territory had been challenged by a wolf recently, an old scarred wolf. The Dragon had almost caught it the last time it had dared to show its face, but the slippery beast had gotten away by twisting briefly into a much smaller man.
How it had raged when the Wolf-Man had given it the slip and disappeared before The Dragon could rip its head off. In its rage, it had flown high and hard and tried to land on the floating island; it seemed to have a lot of buildings it could tear down, but the closer The Dragon got, the farther away the island seemed. With its rage at its zenith, it had landed with a heavy thud and proceeded to tear at the nearby spirits.
Now, it hunted the Old Wolf from the air. But the crafty beast was staying hidden, refusing the challenge. It flew, and flew, and flew, and flew, and flew, but it could not find its quarry. Eventually, The Dragon lay down and slept on a conjured bed of gold and gemstones.
And Dreamed of killing wolves.
-DoT-
Maxwell was starting to regret his decision.
He starred out at the valley where the dragon had made its home, aptly named 'The Blood Cliffs,' and isn't that just a great name. When they had made their approach some few minutes earlier, they'd had to duck and cover as the dragon had taken a run at them. They had found shelter under a rock formation that overlooked the dragon's lair.
And now Max watched as Irina calmly walked towards the beast.
When she stood in the middle of the three rock outcroppings that made up the lair, she stopped and stood still. Suddenly, low, guttural words sprang forth and filled the air. They felt odd, as though the words meant more than their sound could possibly hold.
It left him stunned, like I just peeked beyond the Veil. Irina spoke for what seemed like an age. Max could see the dragon, and it seemed tame. Under Irina's spell. It swayed to the rhythm of her words.
Suddenly, the land grew still. Silent. Max felt a weight in the back of his mind, a pressure, as though under the gaze of an immense creature. A blink and like a deep breath after breaking the water's surface, the world kickstarted. He refocused and found the dragon had opened its maw and spewed fire, and Irina had let loose her own flood of fire.
Shaking off the last remnants of his lethargy, Max ran forward and yelled: "Charge!" without a single look backwards. As he drew closer, the heat assailed him until it was nearly unbearable.
He sheathed his sword as he ran and felt for his belt pouch and was mollified to feel two small lumps. Maybe I should take one of these Fire Resist Potions right now…
He quickly uncorked the vial and knocked back the bright red liquid. Max felt immediately better as a cool sensation ran from the top of his head to his toes. He stumbled and nearly fell over when the dragon jumped from its perch and landed on Irina.
Wuld, Nah Kest.
Suddenly, she was twenty paces to the dragon's left, bow in hand with an arrow at the ready. The bow was jagged, bleached bone and dark metal, enormous in height. In a heartbeat, Irina had nocked an arrow, drawn her bow and loosed. Suddenly, the beast roared in agony, an arrow protruding from its right eye, blood leaking profusely from the wound. She followed with a blinding lightning strike to the arrow, searing the flesh of the large dragon.
The stench of burning flesh hit Max's nose right as the sound of the dragon's bellows of agony deafened him. The beast turned towards the source of its pain, exposing its side to Max. He reached the hind leg and swiped at the back of the leg. The tendon should be somewhere around here.. Hopefully.
His sword barely bit into the flesh before his momentum carried him off under the rampaging dragon. He ducked under the base of the tail and took another swipe, this time at the other hind leg. Again, his sword seemed to glance off the scales. Once clear from the creature, he spun around and took stock of the battlefield.
Cassandra and Bull had joined Irina at the head and were fending off flames and teeth, keeping the beast focused squarely on them. Blackwall was standing next to the left foreleg of the dragon, facing away from the direction they had all arrived in and was attempting to hack said leg off. He was well positioned in case the beast turned suddenly and went after the more vulnerable of the specialists. Behind him, a dozen paces away, stood Varric, Sera and Madame de Fer. The latter was icing the wing while the other two went to work, filling the creature with arrows. Finally, Solas was making his way around the dragon from the back, coming towards Max. He moved cautiously, weary of the tail that swung back and forth.
Soon, he stood behind Max, casting a frost spell at the dragon's wing.
It was all going well. The beast bled from several dozen gashes. It moved slowly from the ice magic; it had lost visibility in one eye, and no one had been injured.
Suddenly, Max heard Sera scream: "Babies!" He glanced her way and saw that a pair of dragonlings had ambushed her. Max turned towards Irina and yelled.
"Irina! Take care of the dragonlings!"
She nodded and started towards Sera. While he was distracted, disaster struck. Just as Irina began to run, the dragon spun on itself, lashing at Blackwall with its tail. Maxwell couldn't see what happened, but he heard the crash of metal on stone. The dragon continued turning, and soon, Max was forced to throw himself to the ground as the tail nearly sideswiped him.
From the ground, he saw Blackwall on his back, his armour dented at the chest. Cassandra and Bull were on the ground as well but seemed unharmed and were rising to their feet.
Max did the same and found himself face-to-tail with the dangerous creature. It had turned and focused on Irina as she sprinted to help Sera and slaughter the dragonlings.
Max moved back and to the side to resume flanking the dragon, taking care to avoid the tail and dragging Solas with him. He saw Bull helping Blackwall as Cassandra stood in front of the dragon, alone, defiant behind her shield.
Something has to be done. We'll be overwhelmed, especially if more dragonlings show up! He turned to Solas, a desperate plan forming.
"Solas! Can you freeze the wing to the ground?"
The elf turned from his casting and looked at Max with evident confusion, "Yes, but what will that help?"
"I've got a horrible idea. Can you do it?"
"I believe I can, but I must warn you it will not hold long."
"I just need a few moments. I'll signal when."
Maxwell took a few steps further back and screamed to make sure the other fighters heard him.
"When I say go, everyone targets the head! Make sure it's distracted!"
Cassandra, Bull, Sera and Varric answered in the positive, and either the others didn't hear his order, or he didn't hear their answers, but there was no more time to waste.
Max took a deep breath, centred himself like Irina had taught him for his katana forms and bellowed: "Go!" just as the wing went up, allowing for it to come down while Solas cast his spell,
Several things happened at once.
Two arrows struck the dragon's face, while nearly simultaneously, a fireball struck its neck. As it reeled, three swords stabbed and slashed at its jaw. Max noticed this dimly as he focused on running up the dragon's wing. Solas had frozen as much of the tip to the ground as he could, giving Maxwell precious seconds to run onto its back before the wing came back up.
He ran gingerly towards the head, trying as best he could to keep his balance. Time slowed to a crawl as he realized the beast's head was starting to turn towards him. He saw the fate that awaited him if he let it manage to turn and threw caution to the wind.
He ran forward as fast as he could, nearly losing his footing once, twice, thrice. He made it to the base of the neck and looked up to find a dragon looking at him, maw open, fire building in the back of its throat. Without thinking, he leapt forward, jammed his sword into the eye of the vile creature, and held on for dear life.
It spewed fire and bellowed in agony. It convulsed and shook violently, trying in vain to dislodge the foreign object. Max gritted his teeth and held on, praying to the Maker that he had the strength not to let go. Hot, boiling blood poured over his hands, burning them as it spilled free from the wound. Max felt his flesh sear, baptizing his sword and hands in dragon blood. He felt his strength wane as the beast shook harder and harder as it died. He let out a short scream of pain and felt his hands begin to release his weapon. He found enough will to hold on for a few moments longer as finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it went still and fell over dead.
As it fell, Max realized it would crush him. He pushed away with his feet and let go of the hilt, and was buried beneath dragonflesh. Damn, that was a pretty stupid risk, Max thought as the burning hot flesh engulfed him.
-DoT-
Irina watched as the Dragon collapsed to the ground, dead. She had been shocked to realize the Dragon was female, having never encountered one before. She had felt she was making good progress in getting her Kin to understand her when Something had reached out and snuffed the connection.
Whatever it was, it had earned her ire. With the Dargon deaf to her words, she had backed away in the hope of appeasing her. It had been a vain hope, and soon after, Irina was back to doing what she did best: fighting her Kin.
And while Irina had given in to the familiar song of blood and violence her Soul had sung, in her heart, she was saddened by the lost opportunity to converse with one of her own.
She did not begrudge the Inquisition and their need to secure the Hinterlands for the people who dwelled therein.
However, she had hoped for answers, answers about the why and where she was. Answers she firmly believed only a Dragon could answer. The younger races would only give her biased answers, tainted by their hate and narrowmindedness.
She was drawn from her reverie by the sight of Maxwell being buried under the Dragon as it fell to its death.
She rushed forward, quickly joined by Cassandra, The Iron Bull, Warden Blackwall and Caleb. As they arrived in quick succession, they all began pushing the head upwards, followed by the neck and some of its body. Irina bore the most of the weight upon her upthrusted arms. Quickly, they located Maxwell and drew him from the still-searing body of the Dragon.
Cassandra dragged him some ten paces away and laid him gently down upon his back. Once everyone was clear of the massive body, Irina ran to his side and began to run the Healing magick over his torso to ascertain his condition.
She found only minor damage, and after a few moments of pushing her magick into him, his eyes opened, and he greeted her and Cassandra with a smile.
"That was fun, but I wouldn't recommend it to anyone," he said, a cheeky grin on his face.
Irina smiled back, "You are a fool, Maxwell, a brave fool but a fool nonetheless," she replied easily.
"I would have to agree," Cassandra said, "that was a reckless thing to do, Herald."
"Yeah, but it makes for a fantastic story, you have to admit," Varric added. Irina looked upon and found all the party members standing around Maxwell and herself. She rose to her feet and helped Maxwell to his.
Maxwell turned in a circle slowly, looking at each member in turn, and spoke as he did so.
"We have done a hard thing today, a brave thing. We've rid this scarred, weakened land of one of its gravest threats. This was the culmination of all the hard work the Inquisition as a whole has put into this place."
He took a breath and continued.
"I believe every one of you will be crucial in shaping our organization into a force for good, and while I may not know the future, I have faith that together we'll be capable of putting Thedas back together."
Silence lingered for a moment. Maxwell then gave them all his customary grin, "That's enough speeches out of me. Let's get back to camp."
The group strolled out of the valley that had been their crucible, and while most were silent at first, they quickly began taking amongst themselves with growing excitement. Most boisterous of all was The Iron Bull, though Sera was a close second.
Irina walked a little behind the others, lost in her head. She was nearly startled when Maxell nudged her shoulder.
"Everything alright?"
She studied his face intently for a few heartbeats. I shall not burden him with this just yet. Some research is needed beforehand. She smiled at him.
"Yes, quite. But what about you? How does it feel to be a Dragonslayer now?"
"Not a whole lot different, honestly," he smiled shyly, "but you're the veteran… how'd I do for my first time out?"
"You did well, Maxwell, truly. Though you must learn to remain clear of the body once you have slain a Dragon."
"Yup, that's clearly what I need, more practice!"
"Well, more sparring would not be amiss."
"Only if you agree to start just a little later. I'm not built to be up before dawn."
"Very well, we shall start after sunup next time."
They bantered lightly back and forth until they had made it back to the camp, where the cheers of the support staff greeted them. In short order, a meal was drawn up for the returning heroes. Afterwards, they were given directions to the nearest stream, which happened to be back towards the Dragon's nest.
The women went first as there were fewer of them. In turns, they cleaned themselves and dressed in spare clothes, and while most changed into simple tunics, Vivenne remained as fabulous as usual. They left one by one until only Irina and Cassandra remained as they cleaned their respective armours as best they could. They did so in silence, at least for a while.
"I believe that you are not, as of yet, a threat to the Inquisition," Cassandra began without preamble.
"Oh?" Irina replied, her eyebrow up with the unspoken request that the Seeker elaborate.
"Yes, though you are far more loyal to the Herald than to the actual organization."
"That is true."
"May I ask why?"
Irina pondered the question briefly, "I have been in his place before. It is a cruel fate."
"You have had to close a hole in the sky and deal with the cataclysmic fallout of its creation?" the disbelief was apparent in her words.
"No. But I have had the weight of a similar responsibility land on my shoulders. When I was younger than he was at that. He has seen more than twenty winters and has an entire organization dedicated to helping him and others. I am not attempting to diminish his hardships. There have been many. Yet I was alone in my duty, spurned by most, judged for where I came from, for being a woman, for choosing one side over the other. Whatever I did was never enough for most. And when I succeeded despite the odds? I was feared."
"I cannot imagine what that must have been like for you…"
"I would not wish it on anyone, least of all a kind soul like Maxwell."
"On that, we agree, but the work must be done if we are to have any chance of ending the monster that killed the Divine."
With that said, Cassandra rose to her feet and headed back to the camp. Irina remained by the stream and pondered what she had felt today.
It felt as vast as Alduin... And it reached from very far away to prevent me from swaying the Dragon to my side. It felt ancient... And angry. I must find an expert on the dragonkin of this world before long.
Hello all,
Here's the next chapter.
I would love to respond to questions and comments, though remember it is only possible with an account.
Have a great day wherever you are!
The Would-Be King.
