Disclaimer: We do not own The Elder Scrolls or Dragon Age Series
Co-Author and Beta: Etheral-23
Clearing Hearts and Minds
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Having Jordis and Lydia around to join them in a quest was a nostalgic feeling for Miara after the rather dour mood that was their return from Denerim and the horrible affair of Alistair's attempt to reunite with his family. Talking and laughing with the two was just what was needed. At least, even if Alistair remained a little gloomy, he could still laugh at their tales.
She just wished it wasn't at her expense.
"I swear, half the time, all she needed me to carry was pure junk," Lydia said with a shake of her head as she and her wife sat at the table surrounded by many of their party members. "I've seen less addiction in skooma users."
"It wasn't junk," Miara mumbled with her arms crossed. "It all had meaning"
"What meaning could there possibly be in dirty old tankards and burnt books?"
"...Momento of our adventures?"
"Yes," Jordis deadpanned with an arid tone. "Because the time we hunted down stolen laundry sure a memorable quest."
A grumble came from Miara's throat muttering in dunmeri, taking a long swig from her ale while the others around her chuckled. Then, absently, her mind wandered to her oldest, Leliana, and young Sereda. Sofie had told her mother through their rings; that she and the redhead were heading to the Peak. Faren had sent a brief reply from his that he was with Sereda and needed time to themselves. But, of course, they could take as much time as required by the severity of his tone.
But, if they needed an ear, she'd be there for them when ready.
She blinked upon fingers snapping in front of her face. The elf shook her head before noticing the amused look from Lydia, "You spaced out a bit there, old friend. But then again, you were always good at that."
"Oh, and should I tell our young friends here how the wedding went between you two at Riften-" Before she could continue, a giant hand from her Nordic friend covered her mouth.
Jordis's cheeks had turned scarlet along with her beloved. Gin cocked a brow, noticing an amusing smile dance on Serana's face, "Take it, there is a story there?"
"None that bears to be told," Jordis retorted quickly while glaring at Serana. "Right?"
"Hmm." The Vampiric Nord tapped her chin playfully, "Well, I suppose we can spare you two from the embarrassment." She paused, "For now."
An amused snort came from Marcus, who shook his head, "At any rate. We should get down to business."
"Ahh," a slight whine came from Zevran, "And this was getting fun."
"You'll get your fun later," The Cousland merely said.
"Oh, is that a promise?" He asked suggestively.
He got splashed with water by Serana.
"Thanks," Marcus said.
"You're welcome."
A soaked Zevran glared.
"Anyway," The noble-born continued. "I believe Miara has brought you up to speed regarding our current circumstances."
"Land in disarray, monsters at the gates threatening to kill you all, and nobody cooperates," Lydia summarized quickly. "Ahhh, that takes me back."
"Yes, well, we've been striving to prevent Ferelden from falling to the Blight," Alistair said, "So far, we've been able to recruit most of the groups who have treaties with the Wardens. And though the arl remains... frozen, or something?" He questioned the expert Telvanni mage.
"If that helps you understand it," Sarya shrugged.
The senior Warden continued, "Which still means we lack one of the strongest political allies amongst the Ferelden nobility."
Oryrn tapped the table with his finger in thought. "The arlessa is waiting for her knights to reply with information on their quest for the Sacred Ashes. The most promising lead seems to be this Brother Genitivi, but they believe he's in Denerim, so that might take time."
Jordis frowned, "Can't you just heal him with a shrine to the Nine? Those literally work miracles."
"One," Miara listed, "He needs to be actively praying himself. If we remove the stasis, he'll just have seconds before death. Two; He needs to have faith in them, so that's a no-go."
"So much for divine assistance."
"Hey, I'm doing what I can."
"Anyway," Marcus took over, "Which means our next course of action is the last group the Wardens have treaties with, the dwarves of Orzammar. I would let Sereda talk to you guys about it, but... she's not here at the moment," He said distantly.
The exiled princess was currently on Soldiers' Peak and wouldn't leave her room soon. And they didn't blame her, from what Faren told them…
Jordis leaned forward, her elbows on the table, "So what would you like Lydia and myself to do?"
"We need someone to keep an eye on the Darkspawn, to be honest." Marcus rubbed his chin, "track their advance into Ferelden. Which places are they going, or are stopped at for the moment."
"While I can say our tracking and scouts skills are decent, this sounds like something Aela and her daughters would be experts you needed." Lydia turned her gaze to her longtime elven friend.
Rubbing the back of her neck Miara winced, "Goes without saying. But we know how eager Aela and her girls get when the possibility of facing new prey." And their wolf instincts can override their judgment and go on a hunt instead of simple tracking. "Aela can yell at me later. So I'm playing it safe with you two."
"It won't be just her, and you know it," Jordis quipped.
"Until people here meet and get used to beast folk, Kharjo stays home." However, the Dragonborn was not about to risk her oldest friend's safety. "But it is, as Marcus said. I know you two likely wanted to join us on our journey."
A snort came from Lydia, "I've had my fill of underground adventures. And you said this Orzammar is an underground kingdom?" Alistair and Marcus nod. "Yeah, I'd rather stay on the surface." Her eyes grew distant, "Blackreach was enough of a nightmare to deal with."
The others noticed Jordis, Serana, and especially Miara had a strong stone face reaction upon hearing that name.
"So long as it's not Blackreach, I don't have any problems with the underground," Miara said, leaving it at that.
Clearly, this was a susceptible subject, the type the Dragonborn did not want to expand upon.
Marcus made sure of it by continuing. "If the Blighters attack a settlement-"
"We'll protect it and then move on," Lydia said solemnly. "Do not worry; we've been fighting at Miara's side for decades. There's seldom a thing under the sky we have not faced in battle. And when her adventures grew too challenging for our mortal prowess, well," She grinned, tightening a fist and showcasing the bulging muscles of her arm. "We simply sought ways to fight alongside her still."
"Odahviing's blood, to be precise," Jordis added with a smile of her own.
The Amell mage looked at them curiously, "You're like Sofie? What did she call it, 'Dragon Forged'?"
"Indeed," The Shield-Maiden replied, "We went a step beyond the arts of the Dragonknights. We partook in the Dragon Communion, where dragons would give their power to those they trusted. The first nords to partake in such art in over five thousand years."
Sarya moves a hand between the two, "As you can see, the transformations vary from person to person. Bestowing a multitude of powers but also unique gifts that fit that person. While the essential contributions after increased strength, endurance, agility, slowing the aging process."
The last part drew the attention of the others, "It does what on the last part?" Brianna questioned wide-eyed.
"Our aging, while not stopped, has slowed considerably," Lydia clarified for the Thedasian company.
"Well, that explains why you two don't look a day over thirty and Sofie in her late twenties." Marcus quipped, scratching a hand through his hair. "You say it's a rare thing these days. Are there others like this?"
"Just Kharjo," Miara remarked pouring herself some ale. "His transformation was a bit wild."
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Sofie wasn't sure how long it had been since she brought Leliana back here. However, time meant little to the Nord as she got her friend to her room in the Peak. The redhead was still an emotional mess sitting on the bed. Though her tears had ceased, she looked drained and spent, her lovely blue eyes now dull.
For her part, the Nordic warrior stayed at her side, not speaking a word but being there for whatever emotional support Leliana needed.
Their conversations were sparse at best, not that Sofie could blame her, and it was not until this moment that Leliana finally chose to speak about what happened.
"I loved her once," She muttered.
Not the words Sofie wanted to hear, not out of jealousy, but because that woman had not deserved Leli's love in the least. Instead, she had molded her, used her, and discarded her out of paranoia.
The redhead sighed, stepping off the bed and walking across the room, her arms holding each other rather than folding under the bust. Her gaze shifted from place to place as she was lost in the memories.
The first time they met, how easily she was charmed by that lovely smile. The gentle touches as she trained her in the use of daggers and the bow. Running from rooftop to rooftop in the great streets of Val Royoux after a job well done, chasing after her dear mentor, always chasing. Her beloved, her goal, her everything.
Was it wrong of her that a small part of her still held those memories dear? Perhaps it was just her mind being an absolute mess at the moment. Because she jumped from tenderness to hatred at a moment's notice, remembering all the horrible things Marjolaine subjugated to without a second thought. Years of friendship, loyalty, and sweetness between them cast away like she was just another inconvenience Marjolaine had to get rid of.
"She made me what I am," Leliana muttered.
Sofie walked up to her, "That is a lie," She said with certainty. "That woman could have never made someone as caring as you."
"Because you didn't know the old me," The redhead said bitterly. "I was just like her, and I took joy in everything I did as a bard. The blood spilled, the lives ruined... Because it was sport to me, a game, and I was good at it because I enjoyed it."
The nord said nothing.
"And I still do," She admitted. "That time in Lothering, when I found the Maker... I still couldn't help but feel bored. Imagine it, the kindness the priestesses gave me, the aid I gave to the people in turn to make a new life, my faith... But, I was bored of it. Because I missed the challenge, the hunt, the game..."
Marjolaine was right.
"I'm a bard," Leliana said, resigned. "That's what I'll always be."
"Devotion to the Chantry perhaps isn't what you truly believe in, and you sought it as a way to keep that other side of yourself as far away as possible, didn't you?"
Her gaze grew downcast. "I'd thought it'd made me better..."
"But you did change, Leliana," Sofie replied. "You didn't join just became you wanted adventure. You wanted to help people. Craving excitement and adventure don't make you the type of person she was," Sofie replied. "I crave fighting and blood. That's who I am. Does that make me a selfish and cruel person?"
"No," She answered quickly, "Of course not. Nobody could call you that, seeing how you went out of your way to help the people in Lothering and everyone else in our journey."
"Then why would it be different for you?"
Leliana bit her lip while peering down at the floor.
"You know my elven mother is an assassin. Even after retiring from the Dark Brotherhood and ending the whole guild. And to this day, she is still an active assassin."
Shifting her blue eyes to the taller woman, "How does she keep doing it?"
"Because now she goes after those who genuinely have it coming. And deep down, she has always loved the profession."
Her pacing halted as the redhead was deep in her thoughts, "Can... people like me indeed be an agent for good?"
Sofie smiled, "You already have been." She drew close, "Bard or not, you've gone above and beyond helping everyone who needed it. Both small and large, and that's something only a person with a kind heart and compassion can do. It doesn't matter what you are."
The nord gently cupped her cheek, and the redhead leaned into it, placing her hand atop the larger one. "I think the person I want to be right now... is the one who's always at your side" Leliana looked into Sofie's sapphire eyes deeply. "Ever since I met you, things have been so chaotic" Sofie had to snort at that. "But in a good way, we've been caught into this storm and braved it together all the way. I've never felt more alive or... happy as I do now."
Sofie tenderly smiled at her, "I can say the same. When I think about going on my lonesome adventure, it's not the same anymore. Now all I want is to travel everywhere with you."
"Lay sister or bard, faith or not, this is what I'm truly certain of, more than everything else in my life. A life where you are always part of it" It was with that certainty that Leliana gave words to the feelings she's felt for good while now. "I love you, Sofie."
The warrior's smile grew with utmost joy as she felt her draconian heart soar. "I love you too, Leli."
The bard all but jumped into those solid muscular arms, so quickly holding her up as their lips crashed together in the deepest of kisses. Sealing their promise always to be together, the past didn't matter. All that was left was the future.
Their future.
As they softly parted and leaned in to rest their foreheads upon each other, feeling more at peace than ever before, the lovers stared into each other's eyes. "So... can I finally call you my girlfriend before my moms?"
Leliana giggled, her arms circling Sofie's neck. "Please, I'm sure they've been picking wedding dresses for me for a while" Her smile grew more seductive as her accent got heavier and breathy. "You can call me whatever you like, mon amour."
Sofie almost growled, "Oh, you don't know what you do to me, woman..."
"Ohhhh, I'm pretty sure I do" A soft push from her hand was all she needed to do to tell Sofie their next destination was the bed, which she was more than happy to follow.
Leliana laughed heartedly as her body fell upon the mattress, Sofie's much larger frame looming over her, holding her tightly as the first of many kisses upon her neck and chest were planted.
For the first time in a long while, Leliana felt her life was going as it should.
XxX ~ Redcliffe the following day ~ XxX
Theron's expression was neutral, walking beside the Bann, whose face conveyed several emotions. He had requested to meet with him in private, and it was only out of courtesy that the elf was humoring him. "First of all, I'd like to offer my apology to you." Those words stunned the warrior as he was not expecting them. "I thought for a long time what we discussed. And you were right."
The elf cocked a brow at the man.
Well wasn't this a surprise.
"About... well," He cleared his throat.
"Yes, do go on" He wanted to hear the noble say it.
Teagan sighed, "I was wrong to discard the elves and suspect them. Of course, I didn't do it out of malice or disdain for them, but still, my actions reflect poorly on my intentions" It had been frighteningly fast how Teagan had overlooked them and what they needed. "I am sorry."
"Hmm" The dalish elf looked at the redheaded man for a moment. "I will accept them, but what will you do about it?"
"I already gave the order for the elves to be allowed into the militia and receive training," Teagan assured, "They'll be part of our fighting force in no time."
"Ahh" That answer seemed to satisfy the dark-skinned elf. "Good"
"So... that is it," The man said with his hands grasped behind his back. "I know now that what I did was wrong. I should treat all of our people equally" Otherwise, they're no better than the Orlessians when they occupied their country.
Theron looked at the man with a growing measure of respect. He honestly had not expected to meet as many open-minded humans as he had on this journey. His companions were exemplary individuals in many a character's measures, but they were the exception, not the rule. It upset him greatly how many shems would ignore elves' suffering simply because 'it's always been like that' rather than out of active hatred. Their chantry and society conditioned them to see it as part of their everyday lives.
"I am grateful that you see it, Bann Teagan" He spoke measuredly; once upon a time, he would just have spat on the man's face and said his apology was worth little. "Few among your kind would."
"I just wish I could do more"
Theron made a thoughtful sound, "Is there something holding you back?" With that said, he went to the training grounds to help the potential elven recruits, leaving the bann with much to think about.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
A low sigh escaped Alistair while staring at the map of Ferelden on the table in the main hall. He leaned forward with his hands on the table, his eyes surveying every hold and village on the map. "We will likely have to stop at Edgehall before heading up to Orzammar." Finally, he spoke out loud despite being the only person in the hall. "Better to get extra supplies if we need them." And the journey to the mountains wasn't an easy trip to make.
"Always be ready for anything. Like what Duncan always taught you."
"Um, who are you speaking with, Master Warden?"
Alistair gazed up, noticing a human servant woman looking at him oddly. "Oh, nothing. I like to talk out loud to myself. It helps me think."
The woman gave a nod of understanding, though by her gaze, she was still weirded out before walking away to tend to whatever duty she had to do.
Not that he could blame her for thinking he was a bit odd. "Wonder how people will deal with an oddball for a king?"
"I'd say we have worse options," The familiar voice of his elven friend drawled as he walked into the room, his hands in his pockets as he looked at him with a lazy smile. "Can't be any worse than the current management."
"Just you wait. I'll make cheese the national dish."
"Rather too 'orlessian' don't you think" Gin jested.
Alistair gave a repulsed look. "Ugh, never mind. Don't go ruining cheese for me."
"I'm certain Leliana can do that on her own. Half the foods from Orlais she describes range between weird and downright horrifying to me."
"I'm sure she'd say you just lack a refined tongue," Alistair jested.
"She'll forgive me for being an elf who considers non-stale bread the height of his meals," Gin deadpanned. But, honestly, a wonderful part of this journey is that he's been eaten like never before in his life.
"Well, at least once I'm king, you can be sure your people will get better food," Alistair said with a smile as he looked back at the map.
Gin frowned at his friend. "You're serious with this"
"Well, yeah. I'm not gonna treat anyone-"
"Not that" Gin waved it off. "You, becoming king."
"Ah," The Warden understood. "Yeah, I suppose so..."
Gin made a slight sound. "Family meeting didn't go well, I heard"
"That's an understatement," He muttered, "She wanted nothing to do with me, and I just stood there and took it" He ran a hand over his hair and sighed. "I know, I know. I didn't know the kind of life she had, but... it's the principle of the thing. I've always let people walk all over me, and I just nodded and joked. I'm realizing now that I'm... never going to be happy if I don't stand up for myself."
"And," Gin slowly said, "That translates to you deciding to take the throne?"
"I want what's best for my nation," Alistair said sincerely. "I've pushed away my father's legacy all my life, but not anymore; it's not something I can run from. And I won't ever let Loghain get away with tarnishing neither the throne Maric fought so hard for, that my brother died to defend, nor the name of our fellow Wardens who gave up their lives for Ferelden."
The conviction in his tone genuinely surprised Gin. In the months they had journeyed together, he had never heard such words from his human friend. Moreover, the look in Alistair's eyes shone with such resolve he never thought he'd see from the former Templar. "Never thought I'd hear that from you."
"Heh," The senior Warden chuckled, scratching the back of his head in a bashful manner. "Well, it is a work in progress."
"Keep at it, and you might be the king of this place," Gin gestures to the map on the table.
"Quite a bit of positivity coming from you."
Gin shrugged, "Could still go belly up, and we all die horribly."
"That sounds like my friend."
Both snorted out a laugh while gazing at the map together. Gin's eyes rested on the name of the dwarven kingdom. "Have you ever been to Orzammar?"
"Nope," Alistair shook his head, "Duncan had been quite a few times. He told me about it and the Deep Roads. But, Maker willing, we don't have to go down into that hellhole. If it's not the beasts, it is the damn blighters that get you there."
"Lovely."
"Though we may get lucky and find Legion of the Dead regiments. So won't be completely alone if that is the case."
Gin cocked a brow, "Legion of the Dead doesn't sound quite an appealing name for a group."
"It is an independent unit that works directly to the monarchs of Orzammar. At least Duncan told me they are a lot like Grey Wardens. Minus the whole drinking darkspawn blood."
"Dedicate their lives to fighting the Blighters, huh?" The city elf mused.
"It's all they have," Alistair served. "The Legion takes people from all levels of dwarven society. Criminals, dishonored dwarves, those who seek to pay debts. You join and are fated to die fighting the Darkspawn."
"Andraste..." Gin swore, "The Wardens kept the fatality rate of the Joining a secret, but these people join to die?"
"The dwarves know the Darkspawn threat better than anyone on Thedas," Alistair said solemnly. "While the surface can go ages without a Blight, the dwarves are constantly fighting them."
"And you seem to know a lot about the dwarves."
"Wardens and dwarves go way back. We respect each other's crusade against the Blight."
"Hmm, feel like we are missing two certain dwarves to talk about this..."
At that, Alistair had to pause. "Yeah"
It was amazing, really. He had never really talked to Sereda about the subject of royalty despite how deeply it involved them. Though, to be fair, considering her circumstances, he didn't want to dig up bad memories and put his foot in his mouth like he always did.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Sereda's eyes were dull as she sat on a rock in the forest outside and around Soldier's peak. Despite the cold not bothering her, she wore warm furs upon Faren's insistence. Said rogue dwarf was close by, leaning against a tree. He said nothing as he observed his friend resting her hand on the stone.
Her eyes were now closed as she appeared to concentrate with a hand on the stone. She was like this for about three minutes before letting out a loud disgruntle huff and opening her eyes.
"How's your Stone Sense?" She glanced over to Faren before looking ahead.
She was quiet for a minute before speaking, "Feels off. Like everything else."
"I know I appear to be an expert on all dwarven things," Faren said eloquently.
Sereda snorted.
"But does that work outside on the surface?" He asked, "I thought the Stone Sense only happened underground."
"It does," She affirmed.
"Then what the hell are you trying to do?"
"I dunno, honestly," The exiled princess said with a drawl. "Just... trying to feel closer to the Stone. Even if I'm not underground anymore, the Stone is still all around us. That's gotta count for something."
Dwarves revered the stone, but it was not to it they prayed to, however. "Not gonna pray to your ancestors?"
"What use would any of them be now?" Sereda said with a sudden bout of bitterness. "I bet half of them would have done the same thing my father did, what my brother did..."
"Because it's tradition," the way Faren spoke with such disdain of the last word drew his fellow dwarf's attention.
"What they did was not tradition" Sereda snapped at him.
A bored deadpan formed on the man's face, "Really? It looked like very traditional caste behavior to me. Thrown out without even a second thought by your father."
Immediately Sereda had gotten off the stone and briskly strolled the castless rogue. Her face inches from his with fury glowing in her eyes, "Do not. Insult my father. He is... Was a good man, kind and loving." Her voice broke for a slight moment but returned to its edge.
"If he truly was, he would have never have exiled you just to avoid scandal and preserve his throne. That's what Orzammar does, chocke you with tradition. My whole family was Castless, thanks to tradition. That didn't bother me personally, but my sister was the only thing I cared about. And because of tradition, I'll never see her again."
"Tradition is all we have left," Sereda repeated, sounding lost. "Every year the darkspawn advance more on us, every year we sire fewer children-"
"It's that tradition that's killing us," Faren shrugged, "It's that tradition which made showed your father's true colors."
She was at a loss for words.
"Hard to get personally angry at a traditionalist king when every single Orzammar ruler has been like that," He continued. "Your father, he was just another block in the wall. And I thought it didn't matter. That was just our lot because that's how things always have been. Not enough warriors to fight the Blighters when they don't take the numerous casteless in the army. Not enough births to keep the population going. Well, that's just the caste dwarves, we casteless breed like nugs. The 'Orzammar' the royal line, the Assembly, and all the nobility knows, is not the Orzammar that truly exists."
Despite wanting to feel angry, she couldn't. She took a few steps back from the man, "Then what is left for our people?"
"Depends if the Assembly nugs can get their head out of their asses. Otherwise, it will be surface dwarves that are left." Faren shrugged, "but it's not our problem."
Indignation bloomed on the princess's face, "How can you say that?"
"Because I can." He spoke evenly, "We're exiles, Sereda, even if we are heading to Orzammar for the Wardens. It will never be our home again."
His words felt like daggers in her heart. Why? Because it was the truth. No matter how much she wanted it to be different, it wasn't going to be. They were Castless exiles, and nothing could change that.
She wanted to go home, but her home didn't want her back...
What would she have by going there anyway? A brother who tried to kill her, the memory of a father who did not love her enough to fight for her. Harrowmont... would he even look at her? He had been family in all but title, close to her father as friend and confidant. No doubt he'd be the one fighting Bhelen in his ambitions.
But would he listen to them? He respected the Wardens. He'd help sway the Assembly if he could. But, maybe if she asked him, he couldn't be so devoted to tradition that he'd ignore her, ignore everything Bhelen had done to her just because of the Assembly's decree to exile her.
There had to be something that could show there was still something worth fighting for in her home.
They were still her people, and she couldn't just give up on them.
She prayed to the Ancestors to give her strength, for she was so scared to find an answer.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX
Oryrn was standing in the training hall of soldier's Peak with his arms behind his back, wearing a simple cotton shirt and leather pants. In front of him stood Neria adorned in the same style of clothes, holding a bladeless ebony hilt and guard with gold trimming. "Remember what mother and I taught you about holding a sword."
The young elf nodded, adjusting her hands before concentrating her arcane energies into the hilt. Within moments a glowing white magical blade came to life.
It should have come as no surprise to anyone that Sarya had figured out the inner workings of the Arcane Warrior's weapon within a few months while not doing her everyday work. And once done, she had given the details to her mother, who in turn forged a weapon appropriate for Neria. And for the following months, she has been learning the sword from Miara and soon from Oryrn.
While holding a practice sword felt heavy for her, cnce given the Arcane blade, Vamid 'To hope' Miara called it, Neria had been flowing and moving like the wind with this weapon of her ancient people.
"Don't over lunge."
Well, almost like the wind. Neria had a long way to go to get the techniques down. Still, she never thought it would be fun to practice with the sword like she has been doing.
It helped the sword's weight center was the hilt and handle. It was utterly different from wielding an entire metal blade. Also, the extension of her magic through the spirit blade allowed her to get a much deeper 'feeling' from the weapon, giving Neria the impression it was acting like a virtual extension of her body like Miara wanted.
As she swung the blade, feeling the magical hum it made as it cut through the air, Neria felt in control.
She felt strong, capable of defending herself should the need arise. With barrier and blade. From bandit, animal, Darkspawn, or dark mages.
The thought of fallen mages brought memories of the Circle to her mind, so many of her fellows turning to blood arts, clearly drunk with power and reveling in the carnage they unleashed. Years of anger and hatred were released in a storm of violence.
People like Brianna.
Her control wavered for a moment, and the magic in her blade flickered.
Oryrn noticed this and held up his hand, "Stop."
Neria did so, letting out a sound of disappointment at her distraction.
"You're unfocused," He observed.
"Sorry, sorry," She said, tugging a dark lock of hair between her fingers. "I always do that; I think of a dozen things at once..."
"Hmph," Oryrn let out the smallest of laughs. "Surprising for someone of your talent."
"Yes, well, usually when I'm casting, I do know how to focus," She said, "Sword training like this is not much different for me. But lately, there's been... a lot on my mind."
He waved a hand to her, "If you want to talk, here I am," He said invitingly.
Those words comforted the former Circle mage enough to form a smile. Her legs shifted as she walked over and sat on one of the benches in the hall. Somehow it always feels comfortable being around Oryrn since Kinloch Hold. The thought of that brought her lips to a thin, even line. "I'm... worried."
"Worried?" Oryrn sat beside her, "What about?"
He saw the uncertainty in her eyes as she was mentally sorting her thoughts. "About Brianna."
"...Last I saw, your friend seemed alright. Or is there something wrong with her we don't know?"
Neria waved dismissively, "Oh no, she isn't sick or anything."
"So what is it then?" The Tamriel Templar cocked a brow.
"I'm worried she is getting out of control."
Surprise rose from the red-eyed ash-skinned elf, "Okay, I feel like I'm missing some context here."
"You know how she's been learning a lot of Tamriel magic, right?"
"I am aware" He nodded, following along so far.
"She's just become so... abrasive" Neria slowly shook her head. "She's always been headstrong and impulsive, but now she's acting as though everything the Circle has taught us is wrong. That she's above it now."
"After being opened to new possibilities, I'm certain it's easy to feel that way."
"Well, your sister doesn't exactly give a good endorsement on the system we grew up in," Neria dryly stated.
"Should she?" Oryrn merely asked.
"...No, perhaps not," Neria admitted, "But it still taught us restraint and control, and now all Brianna wants is more magic and power. She is soaking up everything she learns without a care for consequences" The dark-skinned mage paused, adding a softer voice. "Like how many dark mages have done before."
It began clicking together for Oryrn, "You fear she's becoming power-hungry? Like those blood mages we fought in the Circle?"
"Their atrocities still haunt me," Neria said heavily, "What they did for the sake of their 'freedom.' For more power..."
Oryrn pursed his lips in thought. "You're afraid of Brianna."
The former Circle mage looked at him with surprise, like his statement was outrageous. And it was... once upon a time. Neria's expression soon grew concerned. "When Jowan was here... she wanted to kill him," Neria muttered, "She truly wanted him to suffer."
"He betrayed you," Oryrn pointed out.
"He was still our friend once!" She hissed. "To see her wish for his blood so strongly..."
Oryrn paused, "You forgave him?"
"No," Neria omitted evenly, "but I won't throw away years of friendship because of his rash actions." There were many good times between the trio. She would not write it off out of anger and spite. "But Bri... She has so much anger in her heart. Of course, she has every reason to."
"As do you."
The elven mage shook her head, "Anger won't solve anything." she cupped her hands together, "And I'm just so afraid Brianna's anger for the Circles and Chantry will turn her into something she has always hated."
"And you feel my mothers and sister are egging her down the wrong path."
"Feels like I'm insulting them for wanting to help us when hearing that."
Oryrn shook his head, "It's okay; you are just worried about your friend. And I know quite a few schools of magic from Tamriel bother you. Conjuration and the blood arts my human mother uses." Neria's hands clinched on her thighs, not going unnoticed, "You're worried she might learn those?"
"Brianna has always been indifferent about blood magic."
"But you fear this desire for strength and power will lead her down a dark path."
"Yes," Neria admitted. "I'm... I'm sorry, Oryrn, but I can't see beyond the cultural difference of our lands regarding magic. Not after what I've seen. Power can lead to corruption, and the person Brianna is becoming... unnerves me."
"My mother Miara would be the first to tell you you're right about fearing such things," The Templar simply replied. "She battles the desire to take over the world on a daily basis."
That was something the Thedosian elf couldn't understand. Miara certainly had loose morals and a very dark past, but those tendencies about lording over mortals she spoke about? Even in her 'divine form' back in the Fade, she seemed much in control.
Maker help her, that time in the Fade... what power, what absolute, frightening power. Miara, in the spiritual realm, was a creature beyond description, one whose sheer presence was like a giant compared to ants like her. Who might accidentally crush her under the weight of her power without realizing it?
Neria looked at the power Miara and Serana wielded and felt apprehensive and afraid.
But Brianna looked at it and thought, 'more, show me more, give me more'.
And that honestly terrified her.
"You already have a lot of power yourself, Neria," Oryrn brought up. "Are you not concerned about that?"
"What?" Neria said, confused. "I'm... I'm not dangerous. I'm not even that strong"
The dark elf let out a short laugh as if finding her words humorous. "Are you sure about that? You've never really taken a look at your own powers and realized how dangerous you yourself can be?"
About to rebuke her friend, the mage's mind paused as she mentally took stock of all she had learned in the following months after Ostagar. First, becoming proficient in the sword. Studying the arts of the Arcane Warrior, learning several schools of the Tamriel magics. Mostly restoration and alteration, but after some urging from Miara, she did study destruction spells.
And finally, enlightens herself in the sacred arts from Oryrn.
She stared at her hands as the realization dawned on her. It was then The Dunmeri man noticed her hands had begun to shake. "I'm... I'm a-" Neria blinked as one of her hands was engulfed by Oryrn's. Sharply her eyes turned to his as he stared back with warmth.
"You are not whatever you are envisioning of yourself." His statement holds solace and comfort for her. "You are no dark mage. So far from it, but do not be frightened of the individual you have been becoming through this journey because I see before I is a selfless, noble, kindhearted, and beautiful woman who cares deeply for all those around her. And who will fight to protect the innocent without a second thought."
"...Thank you," She said, touched by his words. "But I... never thought I could be the danger to others" All her life, she's felt vulnerable, and the Chantry teachings did make it clear that as a mage, she was an inherent danger. But the Circle teachings gave her stability and peace of mind. She was in control of her power, was safe from the temptations of demons, and could not be dangerous to someone.
And yet, even Templars would be straightforward targets, Neria realized.
How many people had she killed? All those times had been in self-defense or because they were left no choice. Bandits and the like. She didn't like it, but she had no choice. It was so easy to kill someone with magic without falling for the promises of demons.
Everything she had learned not only made her a better mage and a more experienced person but indeed a dangerous individual. So long as she didn't learn dark magics, that was okay, and she was still safer than others.
That was a very warped way of thinking...
And Brianna... she still feared for her friend. She... feared her friend. Neria feared what she would become. But moreover, she feared it because she didn't understand it. As she never sought power for herself and was constantly taught the pursuit of power led to corruption.
Was the desire for knowledge, for more power, inherently a corrupting path? Or was it simply something that did not conform to her views and caused her to react like that?
Was it because of what happened to Jowan? His use of blood magic and his betrayal of them?
Yes, Neria realized. She feared she would lose another friend to dark arts.
XxX ~ the next day ~ XxX
"Thank you," Marcus nodded politely to a blushing elven female servant who took the bowl that held his breakfast. He sat at the table in the main hall with Teagan, Sten, Zevran, Gin, and Alistair.
A chuckle came from the elven assassin, "You work your charm without trying, lord Cousland."
"I'm afraid my heart belongs to another."
"And soon to be a father, I'm envious," Teagan omitted.
A snort came from Alistair, "Well if you tried looking for a fair maiden instead of working all the time, that would help."
The Qunari among them tuned out the excessive pleasantries before grunting with a glare as Sereda and Faren appeared in a flash of light. He muttered in his native tongue while the two humans and the elves looked surprised.
"Sereda?" Her longtime human friend spoke up with some concern.
She came to his side, "I'm alright, Marcus. I need to speak with you and Alistair." the seriousness in her tone had earned everyone's attention.
The young noble still looked at her with apprehension. "I... I heard about what happened in Denerim. About-"
"I don't want to talk about it now," The dwarven woman said curtly in a tone that broke no arguments. Marcus held his tongue and relented. "I need to talk to you about that Orzammar will not be an easy journey, much less so gaining their allegiance."
"When has it been so far for any of our quests?" Alistair despondently said. He was tired of convincing people to help them fight the Blight...
"True, but for the most part, you've been able to navigate yourselves well with your wits. But Orzammar is a different type of battlefield, our politics are just as cutthroat as the surface, but following laws and rules you're unfamiliar with. So you're going to need someone who helps you navigate them" Her expression hardened, "You're going to need me. I need to go with you."
Her companions looked at each other uneasily. "Are you sure about this?" Gin asked gently.
"Stone, I'm not," She honestly replied. "But it's the best chance you'll have"
"But your..." Marcus almost said 'father' by holding himself back, as though the word for forbidden around Sereda. "King Endrin"
"I don't know how much help he'll be..." She confessed sadly. "When I met Gorim in Denerim, he told me that my father looked like he lost all will to live. He couldn't even leave his bed, almost like he was dying" From grief, he said, and yet knowing he held such regret gave Sereda no comfort. "And that was many months ago, almost a year... I don't know the state of his health now, but we need to go there expecting him to be dead."
"Sereda..." Her friend muttered sadly.
She just continued. "If that is the case, then it means Bhelen will be trying to claim the throne, and I just know the Assembly will not let him have it just like that. So Orzammar is going to be locked into a war of succession."
Gin rubbed his chin, "Anyone else is vying for the throne besides your brother?"
"Pyral Harrowmont is the only one with the standing to become king. He knew King Endrin and the Aeducan family for decades."
Recognition bloomed on Marcus's face and Teagan's, "I recall on a trip to the dwarven king meeting this Harrowmont. A stern man, superb general and politician."
"Indeed," Sereda nodded, "Pyral can help us."
"But there is still one glaring problem," Marcus interjected, "You and Faren are exiles. So you'd be executed stepping a single foot there."
The former princess nodded, "We would be... unless," she peered over directly to Alistair, "We became Grey Wardens."
A long pregnant silence filled the hall.
Alistair's jaw went slack on his part before he shook his head, "I'm sorry. Did you say you want to be Grey Wardens?"
"I'd rather not," Faren bluntly omitted, "But where Sereda goes, I'll follow."
"And I thank you for it," The former princess said heartedly before looking at the senior Warden. "Wardens are an exception to many rules in Orzammar, and the order is highly respected. If we return as Wardens, we can go through Orzammar again without the law dictating for us to be executed. We'll be able to move as we please."
"Becoming a Warden is not just a 'loophole' you can use," Alistair warned. "It's a lifelong commitment to devote yourself to fighting the Blight."
Sereda gave him a cheeky smile, "So that's why you're gonna give it up to become king?"
"...Lot of ways to fight the Blight," He mousely replied as he scratched his nose. "Some just require a bit more unconventional methods."
"We know what we're asking," Sereda said solemnly. "The Wardens' cause is noble, and there's not a single dwarf in Orzammar who doesn't respect what your order does. Your people alone understand better than any other surfacer what we go through the underground, fighting every day against the Blighters. But, Alistair... I am an exile; my duty and purpose were taken from me. So let me seek another purpose that still serves my kingdom and honors our old allies."
The passion in her words stunned those at the table, "Your way with words is inspiring, my lady," Zevran quipped with relatively warm sincerity.
"She has shown excellent proficiency in warfare and a commander's presence." The qunari complimented. "Therefore, her edition to the Wardens would be prudent."
"And me?" Faren interjected, pointing to himself.
"Adequate."
All eyes turned to Sten as they had never heard the towering man say more than three or four words. Gin could not stop himself from retorting, "I thought Qunari were not keen on female warriors?"
"We are not." Sten paused, "But adaptation is a key for survival."
"Man, this quest must be a nightmare for you," The city elf voiced.
"Yes," The qunari curtly replied.
"You two would be great additions to our ranks," Alistair said sincerely, "But there is the issue of the Joining; we can't conduct one. We used up all the special Joining blood we had."
Sereda looked disappointed at his words until Alistair followed with this; "However," He smiled at his comrade, "Being a Warden is about dedicating oneself to stop the Blight. Taking the Joining, sensing the Darkspawn, that's just official stuff. Paperwork and all. What truly makes a Warden is their dedication to the cause, and you, my friends, have shown that in spades."
Serada slowly smiled as Faren scratched his stubbled chin with his lazy grin, "So, we in the club?"
Alistair stood straight, "From this moment forth," He intoned. "Sereda, Faren, you two are Grey Wardens"
It took every ounce of willpower for the former princess not to dash around the table and hug the man. Instead, she kept her dignity as she strolled over and clasped the man's hand with a firm shake. "Thank you," A slew of emotions resonated in her voice while fighting the urge to cry, "For giving me a new purpose."
"Don't thank me yet. The Joining will be harrowing enough to deal with when we can perform it for you two."
"No more harrowing than this journey has been so far" Faren let out a short laugh.
Becoming a Warden? Him, a castless thief?
Well, there were worse job positions to take.
But his friend and fellow exile looked like she had recovered something precious, so that was all it mattered.
XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX ~ xx ~ XxX