A Fereldan soldier and a Circle mage become unlikely allies after they battle against the darkspawn in Ostagar. As the battle turns against their favour, Reginald “Reggie” Hawke offers Valeriana Tidarion a chance to escape the Circle forever, bringing her to his family home in Lothering. With a stroke of rotten luck, they are forced to flee to Kirkwall to escape The Fifth Blight that has overrun the village. From then on, a series of events begin to unfold, and Reggie finds himself taking up arms against the Qunari that have invaded Kirkwall, The Templars, and eventually, The Chantry.
This is a re-imagination of the Dragon Age Franchise.
This work contains dark and mature themes that include, but are not limited to: rape/non-con, graphic depictions of violence, graphic depictions of torture, pregnancy, stalking, sexual intercourse, and death.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
Conscripted
A Warrior, A Rogue, And A Mage
What Lies Beneath The Surface
The Breath Before the Plunge
The Battle of Ostagar
Under Her Skin
Lothering
Trust Each Other
Hell Or High Water
Into The Wilds
What Dwells Within The Heart
Gwaren
Across The Frozen Sea
Mutiny
The City of Chains
A New Home
Whore
We Do What We Must
Thicker Than Water
I Am Hers, And She Is Mine
A Mercenary for Hire
A Debt to Be Repaid
Leonidas
Epilogue
*Note: As of 20.11.2022, bolded chapters on this list have been removed to be rewritten. They will be re-released soon.
Summary: Cullen is tasked with night watch as he waits for the mages to return from Ostagar. Meanwhile, Valeriana is faced with her worst nightmare prior to Arthur's arrival in Ostagar.
Warnings: Stalking, depictions of torture, sexual harassment, graphic depictions of rape; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.
Cullen
He sparked his flint and lit his torch as the sun faded through the stained-glass windows, and he began his patrol of the Mage quarters. His footsteps echoed through the empty hall, and his armour clinked gently with his movement. The silence was peaceful, though he missed his best friend and wondered when Elliott would return from Ostagar. There hadn’t been any news about the battle that he’d heard from Greaigor, but he was hopeful.
Cullen approached the door that led into the chambers, pressing his gloved hand against the cool metal. A soft groan resonated as the door became ajar, and he poked his head in, scanning for anything amiss. Only soft snores could be heard from the mages he was tasked to watch over, and he sighed with relief when he decided nothing was amiss. As he turned to close the door, the sight of the Tevinter mage’s area caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He spared a final glance at her unmade bed and shook his head before the door clattered shut.
Good riddance.
Cullen exhaled through his nose with vexation, and his thoughts became clouded with memories of her as he continued towards the library.
She was fourteen. He was nineteen.
Her emerald eyes were wet and pleading as Biff unsheathed his dagger. Cullen watched as the Knight-Lieutenant held her long crimson hair in his hands before he forcefully cut through the silken locks. He was told that it was part of his initiation. But he wasn’t expecting this to happen in the Repository.
"Does the Knight-Commander know about this?"
"Bah! What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, Rutherford. Go on, take the dagger."
She slunk into the corner, shaking with fear. Blood spatter coated the stone beneath her, and she audibly swallowed before she spit out a molar. He knew Biff struck her hard, and his heart dropped with guilt.
"What if… I don’t want to hurt her, Knight-Lieutenant."
"She’s the spawn of a blood mage. Who the blazes cares?"
That was true. He was taught to be vigilant of maleficar. They wouldn’t hesitate to summon demons against him. Greaigor made sure every Templar recruit knew that when he assigned her bodyguards for the day. But she seemed so innocent. Terrified, even. He pitied her.
But why wasn’t she made Tranquil if she’s so dangerous?
“You’re reluctant, boy.” The Knight-Lieutenant pointed out.
“She’s not doing anything wrong, Biff.” Cullen retorted.
“She could have you under her spell right now, and you wouldn’t even know it.”
Biff stepped towards the Tevinter mage, delivering a swift kick to her ribs. She groaned in pain, and the new Knight-Templar watched as her hands flew to her abdomen. She shouted something in her foreign tongue, and her hands began to glow an eerie shade of orange.
“Dispel her!” The Knight-Lieutenant shouted.
Cullen did what he was commanded without question as fear gripped his heart, and he felt a burst of energy radiating through his veins. He focused on her magic, quickly reaching out. His heart drummed in his chest. He clenched his fingers into a fist and the hum of magic faded as did the light in her hands. She exhaled with exhaustion. The mage faltered before her head fell back against the wall. He wasn’t sure what just happened, and his breath hitched.
“Knight-Lieutenant… Was that… Was she—?”
“I told you.” Biff sighed, “You must be vigilant.”
He shifted his gaze back to the mage. Her left eye had already begun to swell, turning a dark shade of purple. She was unconscious.
“Should we take her to a healer?” Cullen asked, hesitantly.
“She’ll wake up soon enough and heal herself. She always does. Go on, take a bit of her hair. She won’t miss it.”
Her quiet nature was unsettling after the beating she’d received. He wondered what evil she was plotting. He wondered if she sought vengeance. But in the years that followed the night in the Repository, his fear transformed into resentment.
I must be vigilant.
He watched her closely when he was assigned as her bodyguard. He memorised her expressions. Her movements. He noticed how she batted her eyelashes at the Templars and the First Enchanter innocently. He’d caught her vexed expressions when she turned her back.
Cullen entered the library, glancing around, listening for whispers, and sighed with contentment when he heard none. He stepped towards a table with unorganised books and brushed his fingertips against the spine of the hefty spell tome absent-mindedly. The flames crackled softly on his torch, and he moved away from the table, dragging his index finger against the old wood. He rubbed the dust collected on his glove away with his thumb before he turned towards the secluded corner behind the massive bookshelves.
He remembered her sitting on the floor with her feet tucked beneath her. She was sixteen. He was twenty-one. The sound of her overgrown fingernails scraping against the edge of the book she’d been reading was still prominent. She never spared him a glance as she was engrossed. He watched as she held the leaf of the page seconds before she turned it. The library was silent save for the sound of the parchment rustling every three minutes.
Cullen thrust his hand into his pocket as she tucked her short hair behind her ear. He listened to her huff with irritation when it fell back into her eyes. The Templar’s eyes began to droop with boredom, and his leather gloves easily slipped against the bundle of hair he’d kept as a reminder as he ran his thumb over it.
I must stay vigilant.
He stepped away from the empty corner as he continued his patrol, moving towards the stockroom. As he entered, he caught a glimpse of the Tranquil guarding the items.
“Good evening, Ser Cullen.” Owain greeted. His monotone voice was welcome. It held no malice. Only peace.
“Owain,” He offered a curt nod.
The Templar walked at a relaxed pace through the stockroom back into the passageway. He passed by the forgotten storeroom that she’d been locked in until after her Harrowing. It was warded against her magic.
She deserved to be in there.
His eyes rested on the locks of the door. The sound of her wailing could still be heard. He pitied her once, but he was foolish.
She’s dangerous.
Another memory came. Cullen was leading Elliott on his first night of patrol, assisting him with familiarising himself with the Tower. His dimpled cheeks reminded him of his brother when he smiled, as did his boisterous laugh. Their heavy boots clattered against the floor with each step they took, and Elliott curiously eyed the door.
“What’s in here, Rutherford?” Elliott asked, arching a brow.
“Nothing you’d want to see.” He replied, flatly.
“That means it must be interesting.”
His lips turned down into a grimace as Trevelyan ran his fingers through his blond hair. The Ostwick Templar opened the door with ease. The light of Elliott’s torch illuminated the dark room in an auburn glow, and Cullen watched as Elliott’s mouth stretched into a wolfish grin.
She’d just turned eighteen. He was twenty-three.
It was the last night she’d slept in the room before she moved into the mage quarters. She’d proven herself to be resistant to possession just the week before. Her full lips were slightly parted as she slumbered. Her crimson waves fanned against the worn pillow in a halo. Trevelyan approached her quietly as he removed his glove with his teeth. His pallid hand lowered to the dark skin of her cheek.
His brows knitted together and clenched his jaw as he watched the Free Marcher brush his knuckles against her skin before he trailed his fingers against her collarbone.
“Very interesting.” Trevelyan murmured.
“What are you doing?”
She stirred, sighing softly. She did not wake. Elliott tilted his head curiously, and Cullen began to wonder what his motivations were. He inched his hand toward her breast, and she stirred once again.
Don’t touch her.” Cullen said, tersely.
Elliott looked up and tilted his head. “Why not?”
Cullen offered no answer. Elliott retracted his hand from her body, fastening his glove back on his hand with little difficulty as he held the torch. He spared her one last glance as Cullen waited impatiently. Elliott turned his gaze towards Cullen, raising his brows once as he offered a wry smirk before exiting the room.
“Has she been broken in yet?” Trevelyan broke the uncomfortable silence.
Cullen’s blood ran cold at the question. “What?”
Elliott sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before clarifying. “Has she been fucked, yet?”
Cullen’s expression soured from the recollection, and he continued his patrol in solitude, moving towards the Chantry. He’d always quietly disapproved of Elliott’s blatant infatuation with her, though he had no say in it. Elliott outranked him.
Another groan emitted from the heavy door as he pushed it open. He was silent. He listened and nothing could be heard, and yet another memory forced itself into prominence as he glanced around.
She was nineteen. He was twenty-four.
She was kneeling before the statue of Andraste, seeking penance. He watched from afar when her slender fingers laced together, and her eyes fell shut as she prayed. Her voice sounded lovely, and he was pleased that she recited Threnodies perfectly. Trevelyan paced in front of her.
She’d only dropped a few books in the apprentice quarters as she carried them towards the stairs. He watched idly as Biff and Trevelyan dragged her towards the Repository. They both took turns flogging her. Guilt stabbed his heart as her agonised shouts echoed in the dungeons. Her pleading eyes met his. Trevelyan tore her robes, exposing more of her skin, and Cullen watched. The Knight-Corporal pulled his gauntlet from his hand. He trailed his bare fingers across her wounds, shushing her comfortingly, before he struck her with the cords once again. Cullen looked away as her blood misted against his face, and he steeled his resolve.
I must be vigilant.
Her wrists were bruised from the rusted shackles she’d been bound in just minutes ago, and blood seeped through her chemise.
She’ll heal herself.
She always does.
“Recite The Canticle again, Tevinter,” Elliott commanded.
Trevelyan circled her slowly, clutching the whip behind his back as she obeyed. It was still wet with her blood. He was waiting for a mistake. Cullen narrowed his eyes, watching her. She didn’t move, save for her lips.
“The demons who would be gods began to whisper to men from their tombs within the earth. And the men of Tevinter heard and raised altars to the pretender gods once more. And in return were given, in hushed whispers, the secrets of darkest magic.”
“Enough.”
She looked up at Trevelyan as he stopped pacing in front of her. Cullen shifted his weight on his feet.
“Rise.”
“Yes, ser.” The mage nodded and stood to her feet obediently. Trevelyan moved in front of her, and his bare fingers traced against her cheek. He always liked to touch her. Cullen clenched his jaw.
“Do not forget your place again, Tevinter. Get out of my sight.”
She obeyed once more, leaving a trail of bloody footprints as she departed the Chantry. Cullen’s gaze followed her figure until she disappeared around the corner. He hadn’t realised he’d been frowning until Elliott caught his attention.
“Don’t pity her,” he sneered.
“She only dropped some books. The punishment was—” Cullen started, and Elliott interrupted.
“When are you going to get it through your thick skull that these mages aren’t people like us?”
“But—”
Elliott waved a hand dismissively. “You’re too soft, Rutherford. The robes are just bed warmers and weapons. Nothing more. It’d be in your best interest to learn that before it’s too late.”
Cullen pressed his lips together and glared at the vacant bench before him. He turned on his heel before he walked towards the laboratory.
She doesn’t deserve my pity.
She’s dangerous.
Cullen furrowed his brow when he noticed the heavy door was ajar. The Knight-Templar pushed the door open with force, and the screech pierced his ears. He grimaced from the sharp sound. He raised his torch in front of him as his hand flew to the hilt of his sword. He’d never needed to smite a mage before, but he was ready to strike. He listened quietly. The fire of his torch crackled, yet beyond that, he was met with silence.
Cullen exhaled, releasing his sword. He raked his fingers through his blond curls and began to inspect the vast room. As he passed the potions cabinet, his gut twisted with disgust. Another memory. She was twenty. He was twenty-five.
He was praying in the Chantry when he heard sultry laughter resonating throughout the empty halls of the mage quarters. He raised a brow before turning his head to his right, listening quietly.
“I don’t want to keep doing this in the Chantry, love.” A familiar and masculine voice rang clearly in the distance.
“We’re not going to the Chantry.”
“What do you mean?”
An airy giggle followed the question. “Just come with me.”
He recognised their voices. His brow furrowed with curiosity, and he followed the sound of their hurried footsteps.
What are they doing?
“Where are we going, Val?” Arthur asked, nervously.
“I have a key to the potions cabinet,” Valeriana replied.
“What? I mean— you mean you want to… in there?”
“Don’t you want one night of privacy?”
“But I’ve never… I mean, I...”
A pause came as he trailed off, and Cullen saw her take his hand. “I haven’t either,” she confessed, “And I want my first to be you.”
Cullen’s expression twisted. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It was forbidden for mages to have physical relations with one another. He eyed her figure as he approached the threshold of the doorway to the laboratory, while Amell squeezed her backside through her robes. She gasped, and the Templar watched as she kissed him with fervour, unaware of his presence, before she pulled the apprentice into the small confines of the room.
The fire burned hot near his face, pulling him back to reality. He hadn’t realised his arm had lowered as he spaced out. Cullen’s knuckles popped as he clenched his fist, and he recoiled away from the door. He didn’t want to think about what he’d seen.
He was ashamed of what she made him feel. His blood began to boil, and his fingers tightened around the torch as he turned on his heel, departing from the laboratory. He passed through the corridor, focusing on the stone walls and the portraits of the former Knight-Commanders, before he passed by the mage quarters once again.
Another memory.
She was eighteen. He’d just turned twenty-four.
The sun was bright through the stained-glass windows. The enchanters were crowded in the library of the apprentice quarters. She preferred to bathe during the day in solitude. Her movements were slow as she cleaned herself. Footsteps resonated, and he turned his head to find The Knight-Corporal finishing his rounds. Cullen calmly took a step back from the door set ajar, straightening his posture, and Elliott’s voice was low.
“Well… What’s this? Growing bored with chasing that little elf-wench, I see.”
Cullen pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes at the mention of Surana. “It isn’t what you think, Trevelyan.”
“Oh, yes I’m sure.” He said, sarcastically. His pink lips stretched into a grin as he pointed towards the mage before he stepped in front of Cullen to peer at her. Elliott pushed the door further open, and Cullen took another two steps back. He listened to her gasp.
“Aren’t you a pretty sight?”
His boots clattered against the floor as he moved toward her. She quickly scrambled for the sheet folded neatly beside the wooden tub. He watched as Elliott caught her wrist and ran his fingers through her damp hair.
“W-What are you doing in my quarters?” She sputtered.
“There’s no need to play coy, little mouse,” Trevelyan chuckled. “I’ve seen it before. Rise, and turn around.”
Cullen shook the memory from his mind. He didn’t want to think about that, either. He ascended the turret stairs to patrol the Great Hall. A place she rarely frequented. It disgusted him that his thoughts were only of her as he patrolled, and his resentment of the Tevinter mage grew.
Even in her absence, she has her wicked hold on me.
I must be vigilant.
Valeriana
Valeriana was curled in an uncomfortable position as she slept. There was only a thin layer of bedding between her body and the cold stone. The wind shook her tent, and she did not hear the Templar enter. Cold fingers brushed against her cheek, and she stirred, furrowing her brow. He trailed his hand down her jawline and traced her collarbone.
“Who–” Her eyes fluttered open, and in her daze, she could see a dark shadow looming over her. She gasped, and the scream that rose in her throat was extinguished as a hand clamped over her mouth. The chill of a blade brushed against her neck. Her assailant leaned forward, lowering his lips to her ear, and she recognised his voice as he spoke.
“Not a fucking sound, mage,” Trevelyan enunciated.
A tear slid down her temple as it became clear what he wanted, and why he was in her tent.
“Get up,” he hissed.
She did as she was commanded without hesitation, terrified of what he might do to her if she refused. He opened the flap of her tent, shoving her out, and she stumbled over her feet. As he exited, he peered around the camp, ensuring that there was no one around before firmly grasping her bare arm, painfully.
“Move,” he commanded, and as she walked with heavy feet, she struggled to keep up with his impatient stride.
The Templar guided her towards the old temple and cornered her behind a large stone column. His hands were planted firmly on either side of her head as he looked down his nose, and in the pale moonlight, his emerald gaze was menacing.
“Kneel.”
It wasn’t a foreign command, and Valeriana drew in a shaky breath.
“Ser Elliott, please don’t do this again.”
“You will do as you are commanded,” his intense gaze met hers.
She hesitated, and Elliott struck her cheek. She touched her face, eyes widening as she gasped, and the Templar tangled his fingers into her hair to force her to her knees.
Valeriana cried out as he tightened his grip on her hair, and her hands flew to his wrist.
Elliott brushed his fingers against her burning cheek, almost lovingly, and she clenched her eyes shut. The sting of tears brimmed in her eyes, and Valeriana whimpered as she recoiled from his touch.
Her stomach turned, and the practised reminder began to flood her mind and she took another breath to calm herself.
Do everything he says, and it will be over.
“You had no objection to kneeling before that apprentice in such a way,” Trevelyan snarled as he unlaced his trousers. Her blood ran cold. The look in her eyes gave her away, and Trevelyan emitted a baleful laugh. “Did you truly think I did not know?”
“Ser Trevelyan, I didn’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, you fucking whore.”
Elliott struck her again, and freed his length from the confines of his pants. He harshly tugged her hair once more.
She clenched her teeth, wincing in pain as he forced her to look at him.
“Open.”
She reluctantly obeyed, and without hesitation, Trevelyan crudely shoved his erection into her mouth. The familiar dull ache droned in the corners of her lips as her mouth was stretched, and Valeriana clenched her eyes shut while the Templar worked up a merciless pace.
Her tears stained her cheeks and she planted her palms on his alabaster skin in a feeble attempt to push him away. The wet sound of her mouth blended with his quiet moans, and Valeriana held back a sob as shame rose within her.
She ignored the insults and obscenities that poured from his mouth as she focused on her breathing, and took care not to bite him. It didn’t end well for her the last time she did.
He faltered, groaning softly as he pulled his erection from her lips, and she was grateful that he didn’t spill into her mouth this time.
Valeriana sucked in a breath, and erupted into a fit of wet coughs as she doubled over. “Elliott, please…” She resisted the urge to retch. “You got what you wanted. Now, let me go.”
“Let you go?” He chuckled darkly, “No… we’re just getting started, little mouse.”
Her eyes rounded in horror.
“I’ve seen you frolicking around with Irving’s favourite pupil,” he mocked, stalking closer to her. Elliott seized her throat in a bruising grasp before pulling her to her feet. “I bet you’ll be quick to spread your fucking legs for that soldier, too.”
His fingers tightened, and Valeriana attempted to summon a chain of lightning, but he’d already drained her mana. When she realised her magic was useless, she tried to pry his fingers from her neck as she desperately gasped for air. As she struggled, she didn’t notice that she’d broken the chain of her locket until Elliott grasped it with his other hand and tossed it behind him, carelessly.
“Caveat perrepatae, let go of me!” Her weak threat was barely audible, and her vision became hazy. Valeriana attempted to use what little strength she had against him, but he overpowered her, and shoved her against the column.
“Do you think yourself above me, witch?”
As she began seeing spots, Trevelyan loosened his hold, and she sucked in another desperate breath, coughing violently.
“Why are you doing this?” She emitted a quiet sob, and more tears spilt from her eyes.
Trevelyan paused and lowered his lips to her ear. “Because I can, mage.”
Elliott lifted the hem of her loose-fitting shift, blindly reaching for her small clothes. She attempted to wriggle from his grasp, and he tore her undergarments from her body. Valeriana released an agonised cry as the material burned her flesh, and the Templar spun her around.
This isn’t happening.
Trevelyan kicked her feet apart, and pushed her chemise above her hips.
This isn’t real.
He aligned his erection with her entrance.
I’ll wake up any moment.
Valeriana shrieked as he roughly sank into her. He clamped his hand over her nose and mouth to silence her.
She clawed at the column and her nails split from her fingers against the stone. She was suffocating, and the sound of her whimpers were all but ignored as he thrust into her.
“You think you’re special to that boy?” Trevelyan grunted as his fingers tightened on her hips, “You’re nothing.”
Her tears blurred her vision, but she could still see the flames of the campfire in the distance by the Grey Warden tent, and the large shadows of the Wardens danced across the stone pavement. They were seemingly unaware of what was happening in the temple ruins, and she sobbed again realising that she was completely helpless.
It’s just a dream.
It’s not real.
“You are mine,” Elliott muttered, “You belong to me.”
She forced her mind elsewhere, and the memory of her father promising to protect her from the Templars came into prominence before her tears freely flowed down her cheeks.
I’ll wake up in the Tower.
His hips stuttered, and he groaned into her ear as he spilled himself inside of her.
Shaky breaths rushed through her nostrils as he pulled away from her, and he turned her back around to force a domineering kiss onto her.
“You will be in the chantry after curfew at this hour every night,” Elliott pressed his forehead against hers, forcing her to look at him. “And you are not to speak to that apprentice again. Is that clear?”
Valeriana nodded meekly, and he kissed her again, softly this time. She grimaced as his tongue slipped into her mouth, and as he pulled away, she fixed her gaze on the ground.
Her chest convulsed as she held back the sobs building in her throat, and the mantra in her mind continued.
It’s just a dream.
I’ll wake up any moment.
It’s just a bad dream.
While Elliott laced his trousers, the faint glow of a torch caught his attention, and she heard him fumble.
“Shit! Straighten yourself, Tevinter,” he said, tersely. “Quickly, before we rouse suspicion.”
She did what she was told and with trembling hands, she pushed the hem of her shift down. Her lower lip trembled, and he grabbed her by her arm, guiding her back toward the Circle encampment at a brisk pace.
Her core ached with every step, and a wave of nausea overcame her. As they approached her tent, Trevelyan turned to face her. The Templar drew his dagger once more before he pressed the sharp edge against her hip, and Valeriana winced.
His lips touched her forehead, and as he pulled back to look at her, she stared forward, blankly.
“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking kill you.” Elliott whispered as he stroked her cheek with his knuckles, “Now, get some rest. The Warden-Commander will be arriving soon, and he needs you at your best.” He released her, and she watched him duck into his tent.
For a few long moments, she was frozen in place as she stared into the distance, entranced.
“It’s just a dream,” Valeriana repeated quietly. “It’s just a bad dream.”
Arthur was right to worry about her safety. But the real monsters to fear weren’t the darkspawn. They were the Templars that lived among them.
Amell
The journey to Ostagar was shorter than he’d expected, but Arthur was grateful nonetheless to be out of the Circle of Magi. It wasn’t how he imagined his escape as he had been fixed on the idea of escaping in the dead of night with Valeriana beside him as they fled for her childhood village in South Reach or even Kirkwall where his mother’s cousin lived.
But it was still worth it to help Jowan out, even though he lied about being a blood mage. But what other option did he have? He’s seen how they treated Valeriana before she passed her Harrowing. It was no secret that she’d been beaten by the Templars on a whim every now and again, and the First Enchanter turned a blind eye to it. She wasn’t the only mage to suffer either.
Perhaps if they both survived, they could still run away together, now that he was protected by the Grey Wardens. Though, if what Duncan said was true, he wouldn’t be around much. It would be difficult to be a good husband and father if he served with the Wardens.
As they reached the end of the Imperial Highway, a fair-haired man in golden armour approached them joyfully.
“Ho there, Duncan!” He beamed.
“King Cailan?” The Warden-Commander’s brows shot up in surprise as he braced his arm in greeting.
That’s the King of Ferelden?
Arthur’s eyes widened, and he fidgeted with his robes. The Circle of Magi never taught the proper etiquette of addressing nobles, and so he opted to remain silent.
“I didn’t expect—”
“A royal welcome?” Cailan finished Duncan’s sentence arching a brow, “I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun!”
Arthur furrowed his brow in confusion at Cailan’s comment, and he frowned.
“Not if I could help it, your Majesty,” Duncan replied.
“Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all. Glorious!” Cailan closed his eyes and shook his head with mirth, “But if I heard correctly, the other Wardens said you found a promising recruit. I take it this is he?”
Cailan shifted his blue eyes to Arthur and his grin widened as he approached him.
“Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty.”
“There’s no need to be so formal, Duncan,” The King scoffed, “We’ll be shedding blood together, after all. Ho there, friend. Might I know your name?”
“I’m Arthur, your Majesty.” The mage bowed his head, hoping that was the right thing to do.
“Pleased to meet you! The Grey Wardens are desperate to bolster their numbers, and I, for one, am glad to help them,” Cailan chuckled, “I understand you hail from the Circle of Magi. I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?”
“I’m only recently out of my apprenticehood, I’m afraid, but I will fight for the Crown to the best of my ability,” Arthur replied.
“I appreciate your vigour! And your abilities are still above those of other men. That the Grey Wardens recruited you says much.”
The King was surprisingly kind, and Arthur had to admit that it was unexpected. For years, he listened to Templars berating him and other apprentices, allowing doubt to worm into his mind, but to be appreciated by a king bolstered his confidence and he raised his chin a touch higher.
“Allow me to be the first to welcome you to Ostagar. The Wardens will benefit greatly with you in their ranks.” Cailan reached out to grasp his forearm, and Arthur returned the gesture with a nod.
“You’re too kind, your majesty,” Arthur said.
“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies.”
The comment threw Arthur off, and he deadpanned. A pit formed in his stomach, and he began to feel uneasy as his mind wandered to the coming battle against the darkspawn at dawn.
“Your uncle sends his greetings,” Duncan chimed in, referring to the Arl they’d met when they stopped in Redcliffe for rest. “He has asked me to inform you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.”
“Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory,” Cailan scoffed as he turned to walk back toward the bridge, “We’ve won three battles against these monsters, and tomorrow should be no different.”
“I didn’t realise things were going so well,” Arthur muttered under his breath, and the uneasiness began to spread into his chest.
Cailan seemed unbothered by the possibility of the battle going awry, and it concerned Arthur. The mage hadn’t been known for his pessimism, but he was pragmatic. Anything could go wrong, and he warned his beloved of that before she left just a few weeks prior.
“I’m not even sure this is a true Blight,” Cailan continued, “There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”
“Disappointed, your Majesty?” Duncan asked. He seemed perturbed by the King’s comments, but he made no other indication of his disapproval aside from his expression.
“I’d hoped for a war like in the tales! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But, I suppose this will have to do.” Cailan shrugged, and the excitement in his voice dissipated as he finished.
We’re doomed.
“I must go before Loghain sends out a search party. Farewell, Grey Wardens.”
Arthur and Duncan both bowed before Cailan as he departed, and he turned toward the Warden-Commander after the King was out of earshot.
“What the King said was true. They’ve won several battles against the darkspawn here,” Duncan started.
“He didn’t seem to take the darkspawn very seriously,” Arthur scoffed.
“True,” Duncan replied, gesturing with his hand for Amell to walk with him, “Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows larger with each passing day. By now, they look to outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the King to act solely on my feeling.”
“Why not?” Arthur tilted his head, curiously, “He seemed to regard the Grey Wardens highly.”
“Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais,” Duncan answered with a sigh, “He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable.”
That's foolish.
“Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference. To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual without delay.”
“What do you mean? What ritual?” Arthur asked, stopping in his tracks.
“Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden,” Duncan turned to Arthur and continued his explanation, “The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required. We must begin soon.”
“Why is this ritual a secret?” He hoped it was nothing like the Harrowing. He couldn’t stand to be nauseous for hours on end again from the concentrated lyrium he’d been forced to consume.
“The Joining is dangerous. I cannot speak more on it except to say that you will learn all in good time. Until then, you must trust that what is done is necessary.”
He’d heard that before, though with different words, and he frowned. “Is it anything like the Harrowing?”
“It is an ordeal. I am sorry that you must endure another so soon,” Duncan looked at Arthur sympathetically.
Dear Maker, just don’t let it be as painful as the Harrowing. I beg of You.
“What do you need me to do, Duncan?”
“Feel free to explore the camp as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being,” Duncan began his long stride across the bridge and Arthur followed.
A burst of giddiness hit him when he remembered that Valeriana was here, and he was hoping to surprise her. He hoped he could have a moment alone with her before the battle, and his lips stretched into a grin.
“There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out and tell him that it is time to summon the other recruits. Until then, I have business I must attend to. You may find me at the Grey Warden tent further within the camp should you need to.” Duncan said, and Arthur nodded his understanding.
As the Warden-Commander parted ways with the young mage, Arthur took a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air and freedom that he’d been granted.
The Maker be praised, I’m finally free.
“Hail! You must be the Grey Warden recruit that Duncan brought,” A voice rang from his right.
“Aye, I am.” Arthur turned to find a guard smiling at him as he approached.
“Well met. This place hasn’t seen such bustle in centuries, I’ll wager,” The guard said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Do you need a hand getting anywhere?”
“I’m looking for a Grey Warden named Alistair,” Arthur replied. It couldn’t hurt to know his whereabouts beforehand.
“Try heading north,” The guard said, jabbing a thumb behind him, “I think he was sent with a message to the mages.”
“That works for me,” Arthur felt his heart swell. It was perfect. He could see Valeriana on the way if she wasn’t too busy with whatever tasks she was given, “Thank you, soldier.”
“Anytime, Warden.”
Valeriana
Valeriana didn’t sleep. She was terrified that if she shut her eyes, he would be there again, looming over her before he finally slit her throat. As the morning light illuminated through the burlap of her tent, she pulled her knees to her chest and listened to the bustle of the Templars waking up her peers. Then she heard Elliott’s voice as he began to converse with his fellow Knights. Though she wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying, she noticed that he was in good spirits, and he was laughing.
It’s as if nothing happened…
Her throat tightened as if the air itself was strangling her, and her breath became erratic. Her head fell to her knees as she struggled to breathe, and she could hear the voices of Senior Enchanter Wynne and another mage outside of her tent.
“Where is that Tevinter girl?” Wynne asked.
“She hasn’t left her tent yet, Senior Enchanter,” he answered.
Wynne sighed. “I will wake her. Take your place with the others, I will be there shortly.”
The rest of the conversation drowned into white noise as her blood rushed in her ears and heat bloomed in her face.
Valeriana didn’t notice Wynne coming into her tent until she felt her gentle touch on her back, and she recoiled with a shriek.
“Goodness, child! Are you alright?” The Senior Enchanter asked. Concern painted her features and her gaze shifted from Valeriana’s bloodshot eyes to the dried blood on her hands and noticed one of her cracked fingernails was missing. “What happened to you?”
Valeriana didn’t answer as she held back the sobs forming a tempest in her chest. She looked away from Wynne and sniffled. Her hands were trembling, and she felt a wave of nausea overcame her and a thin sheen of sweat coated her forehead. Valeriana retched, and nothing came.
The senior enchanter whispered something and touched her shoulder before the young mage became enveloped in a pink aura, and she began to breathe easier. Her heart rate slowed to a normal rhythm and her trembling ceased.
“What happened?” Wynne repeated, and she reached up to turn Valeriana’s head to face her. The older woman’s eyes trailed down to the distinct bruises on her neck, and finally to the blood on the waist of her shift.
Before she could answer, her tent flap was torn open abruptly, and she flinched as she caught sight of Elliott in full armour glowering down at them both.
“What’s going on? I heard a scream,” He raised a brow before he moved his eyes from Valeriana to Wynne.
“You were the Templar on watch last night, is that correct?” Wynne narrowed her gaze suspiciously.
“Aye,” His voice was laced with hostility, and he rested his weight on his forearm as he leaned against the post holding up the burlap of her tent, “I was.”
“What have you done to her?”
Valeriana’s gut lurched at the question, and she gaped at the Senior Enchanter. It was a bold assumption, but Wynne had been in the Circle long enough to know about what Templars did under the cover of night.
“I did nothing,” Elliott scoffed. “She fell.”
“Ser Trevelyan, I may be an old woman, but I am not a fool. Perhaps I should ask the young lady what happened, seeing as you are not willing to be truthful with me.”
“I…” Valeriana paused, sniffling. She wanted to tell Wynne what happened, but she couldn’t. She looked up at the Templar and her heart dropped into her stomach when she saw his murderous gaze fixed on her. Elliott’s threat from the previous night rang in her ears.
If you tell anyone about this, I’ll fucking kill you.
“I slipped—” She corroborated as she looked at Wynne, “I-I went to gather mushrooms for the nurse in camp…” She shifted her eyes back to the Templar, seeing his lips perk up into a smirk before she continued her lie, “and I didn’t mind the gap in the bridge. If it hadn’t been for Ser Elliott, I…”
Her stomach knotted, and she closed her eyes, feeling a rush of despair. If they ever returned to the Circle, she knew that she would never be safe again.
“I just had a nightmare that he didn’t get to me in time…”
“You see, serah? She fell.” He took a bite of the red apple he was holding in his opposite hand, and the sound of the crunch made Valeriana flinch again, “Mayhaps you should join the rest of the mages, Senior Enchanter.”
The older woman looked at Valeriana with disappointment before she narrowed her eyes at the Templar. She obeyed nonetheless and exited Valeriana’s tent, but not before stopping to give him a final glare. “ I promise you this, Ser Templar… the Maker’s wrath is swift as is His judgement.”
“Back to your duties, mage,” Elliott commanded, shoving Wynne’s shoulder, “You don’t want to keep the Wardens waiting.”
Wynne walked out of view and Valeriana began to tremble again as Elliott fixed his eyes on her.
“I ought to smite you for drawing that old bat’s attention,” He growled. The post of the tent groaned against his armoured fingers as he tightened his grip, “But seeing that you prove to be loyal to me, I’ll let it slide, just this once.”
She cringed inwardly when she heard his voice drop to a whisper and fought the urge to shudder with disgust. Embers of anger began to form in her heart as she berated herself.
Why didn’t you just tell the truth, Valeriana?
Cailan could have done something about him.
“Perhaps after the battle, you could join me on a stroll in the forest up north,” He offered a smile that chilled her to the bone.
“Y-yes Ser Trevelyan,” She nodded. Her words betrayed what she truly felt in her heart, and she forced a smile in return, “I would be delighted.”
“Good. Get yourself cleaned up and…” his eyes dropped to her fingers. “Get some bandages for that, will you?” He pushed off the post and straightened his posture before taking another bite of his apple, “The Warden-Commander has arrived with his new recruit.”
Hawke
“Maker’s breath,” Carver muttered as he wiped the sweat from his brow, “First we get put on night watch, and now we train all day with no rest?”
Carver swung his blade against Reggie’s before he stumbled backwards against the force of his brother’s boot as Reggie kicked him.
“You’re the one who sassed the captain,” Hawke said, and he slashed at his younger brother. Carver blocked the strike with his blade while the sharp clang of his sword resonated through the air. “Very good. Again.”
The two brothers manoeuvred around each other, and their blades clashed together as they continued sparring.
“I didn’t sass Liyara,” Carver grunted as he dodged Hawke’s attack.
Reggie spared Captain Varel a quick glance and saw her scowling at Carver from across the camp. He’d never admit it out loud, but the woman intimidated him.
“What’s done is done,” Reggie attempted to dodge his brother’s sword, and he groaned as he felt a stinging sensation in his arm as his brother slashed him. Blood began to ooze from the fresh wound. Reggie shook it off and thrust his weapon toward Carver, and he evaded him. Carver grabbed him and flung him to the ground and the tip of his blade stopped mere inches from Hawke’s face.
“You didn’t see that coming?” Carver laughed as he taunted his sibling.
“You got lucky,” Hawke muttered, while Carver extended his hand to help him back to his feet. He slapped his hand away and stood on his own as he shot a glare.
“What’s that?” Carver pointed at the ground, and Reggie’s eyes shifted to the silver locket he’d found on his excruciatingly uneventful patrol the previous night near the temple ruins. He reached down to pick it up before he shoved it into the pocket of his trousers.
“It’s nothing. Just a trinket,” He shrugged. He was hoping to sell it when he got the chance to put more money toward food when they returned to Lothering.
“I had no idea you were sweet on someone,” Carver smirked, and Hawke rolled his eyes in reply.
“Shut up, Carver.”
They continued sparring for another hour until Captain Varel called for the conscripted soldiers to stop sparring for breakfast. Both men were panting heavily, and Carver planted his palms on his knees after Hawke bested him for the fourth time in a row.
“I told you,” A crack emitted from Reggie’s neck as he tilted his head to the side quickly, “You got lucky.”
“I take it that you two gentlemen are just itching for a break, no?” The Captain sneered as she approached. She tied the loose strands of her blonde hair back into her bun before she clasped her hands behind her back.
“Maker, yes,” Carver sighed appreciatively.
“Good to hear, conscript. You both deserve a warm meal in your bellies— after you finish up with latrine duty.”
Carver deadpanned while Hawke exhaled through his nose, trying not to show his vexation.
By the Maker, I’m going to kill him.
“Double time, conscripts,” Liyara ordered.
“Yes, Captain,” Reggie sounded off before he shot daggers at Carver.
He sheathed his blade and bumped his shoulder against his brother’s as he walked past him to head for the crude latrines dug into the ground just at the edge of the Army’s camp. The appetite he had completely dissipated as the smell of piss and shit began to permeate the air when he drew closer.
“You know, Carver,” Hawke started as he pulled a shovel from the ground, “Sometimes I wish you’d keep your mouth shut. Just once.”
He began to dig another hole, ignoring the buzzing of flies in his ear and Carver joined him.
“You’re the one who said, I’m not your commanding officer!” Carver mimicked Reggie’s deep voice, earning a tsk from his brother, “If you have gripes, take it up with the Captain, not me.”
“I didn’t tell you to insult the woman, you idiot!” Reggie raised his voice as he stabbed the shovel into the dirt forcefully, “And now I’m stuck with you, missing another meal to cover up the shit of other men.” He hauled up a large clump of earth before dumping it into the latrine to his right.
“Well, look on the bright side… at least it’s not darkspawn shit,” Carver quipped.
Reggie deadpanned his brother before letting a chuckle slip, and he shook his head.
“I’ll give you that one.”
“Do they even shit?”
“I don’t even want to know,” Reggie replied, shovelling another clump of dirt.
“So, where’d you find that necklace?” Carver asked, shifting his gaze to Hawke. He could see the chain hanging out of his pocket, and it glinted in the sun.
“Over by the old ruin by the mage encampment,” he grunted, “I was hoping I could sell it when we got back to Lothering.”
“Let me see it.”
“Why?” Hawke stopped digging and threw an exasperated look at his brother.
“I wanted to see if it was worth giving to Allison.”
“I didn’t know you were sweet on that widow— Didn’t her husband just die a year ago?” Reggie raised a brow.
“It’s worth a shot.”
“She’s twice your age, Carver.”
“Just give it here, will you?” Carver scoffed.
“Fine,” Reggie pulled the locket out from his trousers and tossed it to Carver. He half expected his brother to drop it into the faeces, but much to his surprise, he caught it. “Nice to see that your reflexes are getting better,” he smirked.
“Shut up,” Carver rolled his eyes before inspecting the engravings while Reggie continued digging.
“To my beloved daughter…” He paused and squinted as he brought the trinket closer to his face.
“What?”
“You didn’t find this by the temple, did you?”
The sun has cooked his brain.
“That’s what I said, Carver,” Reggie scoffed. “Learn to listen, will you?”
Carver scowled, throwing the locket at Hawke. He caught it by the chain and his expression soured from his brother’s sudden outburst.
“I heard the King’s guards when I was on patrol this morning— they said that there was blood on a pillar in the old temple, and they even found some torn knickers.”
“What?” Reggie furrowed his brow and straightened his posture as he stopped digging.
“And you have Valeriana’s locket.”
Hawke’s blood ran cold. “What are you on about, Carver?”
“I think something happened to her,” Carver muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and kept digging. “I saw her crying this morning when I was doing my rounds. You didn’t see anything weird last night, did you?”
“No.” Reggie emitted an exasperated sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose as he recalled the previous night. Valeriana was on edge with that Templar, and he remembered how he glared at him just for talking to her. Then he thought about what his father told him about what happened to mages in the Gallows, and he shuddered.
“What?” Carver furrowed his brow, “what is it?”
“Nothing. Look, it’s probably just a coincidence,” Reggie said. “She could have just dropped it.”
“And the blood? Just a coincidence as well?”
“It’s funny how you’re suddenly acting as if Cailan’s knights are delicate with the elves.” Hawke retorted.
Carver took a breath and pressed his lips together. “Fair point.” The younger Hawke covered the last of the faeces with a final heap of dirt. He levelled the earth with the flat of the shovel and emitted another sigh. “Though, if that’s the case… you should probably give that back to her. The last thing we need is the Circle branding us as thieves.”
Reggie hummed, and nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it if I have time. Now, come on. Let’s hurry up with this, so we can get something to eat.”
Amell
Arthur began to move forward with haste, and he felt his cheeks warm. In the few weeks that she was gone, he missed Valeriana. Life wasn’t the same without seeing her smile and hearing her light laughter when he made a crude joke. Not to mention, Anders had been distant until he up and disappeared just the week before.
As he walked north, following the directions of the guard, he was stopped by one of the Senior Enchanters that he recognised from the Circle.
“What do we have here?” She asked, folding her arms over her chest as he offered a smile, “I heard the new Grey Warden recruit was from the Circle. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting just yet. But Irving has spoken highly of your talent.”
“I’m Arthur,” He greeted, feeling antsy. He was in no mood to converse idly with the Senior Enchanter, but it would be rude to wave her off.
“Well met. My name is Wynne,” She looked over his new robes gifted to him by Duncan, “Allow me to congratulate you on your Harrowing. Marvellous work. The Fade is indeed a dangerous place.”
Andraste’s knickers, not her.
Anders often warned him not to get sucked into conversations with Wynne as they’d turn into seemingly endless lectures with no way out.
“I found it terrifying,” Arthur replied, curtly.
“I thought the same. It’s good that you can admit that,” She nodded, “So… a Grey Warden fighting alongside a king. Not too shabby for someone just out of apprenticeship.”
“King Cailan believes the battle will go well.”
“The King must always seem confident. His behaviour affects the troops’ morale,” Wynne continued, and Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Not that what she was saying wasn’t true, it was that she wouldn’t stop talking.
He tuned her out for a moment as he caught a glimpse of familiar crimson hair from the corner of his eye, and his heart fluttered.
“I-I should get going,” he interrupted, “It was a pleasure.”
“Well, don’t let me keep you. I’m certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me.” She gave him one last smile as he hurried away in the direction that he saw Valeriana walking in.
Arthur ran his fingers through his black hair as he ascended the vast walkway that led to what used to be a temple, and he opened his mouth to call to her, but his voice died in his throat when he saw her talking to a Grey Warden with sandy brown hair alongside another Senior Enchanter.
That must be Alistair.
He opted not to interrupt, remembering that the guard mentioned that he was delivering a message to the mages. Instead, he approached slowly and listened to the conversation that was taking place.
“Haven’t the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?” The Senior Enchanter sneered, folding his arms over his chest.
Arthur fixed his gaze on Valeriana, and her emerald eyes brightened when she saw him. Her lips parted, and he grinned, waving at her. She looked away, and he furrowed his brow as her expression became melancholic.
He frowned and tilted his head to the side.
“I simply came here to deliver a message from the Revered Mother, ser mage,” Alistair said, “She desires your presence.”
“What her Reverence desires is of no concern to me!” The senior enchanter scoffed, “I am busy helping the Grey Wardens— by the King’s orders might I add!”
“Should I have asked her to write a note?” Alistair seemed amused, and Arthur could hear the sarcasm that laced his voice. He reminded him of Anders, and he smirked.
“I said I was busy!”
“It would not be wise to ignore the Revered Mother, Harold,” Valeriana spoke up, “Maybe we should—”
Harold jerked his arm from her and glared at the young mage before she lowered her eyes.
“Tell her I will not be harassed in this manner!” Harold scoffed.
“Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message,” Alistair retorted.
“Your glibness does you no credit.”
“Here I thought we were getting along so well,” Alistair shifted his brown eyes to Valeriana and winked, “I was even going to name one of my children after you... The grumpy one.”
Arthur looked at Valeriana, expecting to see her smiling along with him, but instead, she seemed dejected, and his expression fell.
“Enough. I will speak to the woman if I must. Get out of my way, you fool!” Harold pushed past Alistair forcefully before walking away and Valeriana trailed behind him.
“Valeriana, wait!” Arthur seized the opportunity to grasp her wrist and pull her into a warm embrace before he kissed her tenderly. He caressed her hair, but his heart sank when he felt her tensing against him.
She pulled away, and put a respectable distance between them. She shifted her eyes to Alistair before looking at Arthur again. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he frowned.
“I am,” she nodded. “I am.” She offered the same practised smile he’d seen before. “But I shouldn’t linger here.”
His lips parted. “What’s wrong, love?”
She didn’t answer. He searched her eyes, and his gaze fell to the dark bruises that covered her neck. His eyes widened, and he looked her over. Arthur took her hands into his before he spotted the surrounding bandages on her injured fingers.
“Maker’s breath,” Arthur gasped, “what happened to your hands?”
“I…” She glanced down the walkway before she took a shaky breath, “I didn’t mind the gap in the bridge, and I fell.”
Arthur gave her a disapproving look. She was never a talented liar, and he knew there was plenty of room to prevent an accident like that.
“Val, you realise that I know when you’re lying?”
“I’m not!” She retorted, taking another step back, “I fell, and if it hadn’t been for Trevelyan—” Valeriana paused, and her expression crumpled. Her eyes became glossed as tears threatened to spill from them, and she shook her head. “I have to go, I can’t be seen talking to you.” She turned to walk away again, and her words pierced him.
What?
“Hey!” He caught her wrist once more, and raised his voice. “What in blazes is that supposed to mean?”
She flinched as he pulled her closer to him, and his angered expression fell.
“Love,” Amell said, softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“I have to go!” She wrenched her hand from his grasp and hurried down the ramp.
“You know, one thing about the Blight is how it brings people together,” Alistair chuckled pulling Arthur from his thoughts.
“Sorry, what?” Arthur replied as he turned to face the Warden.
“I hadn’t figured the new recruit would be something of a romantic. So, what’s the story with you two?” Alistair asked, raising his brows. “Trouble in paradise?”
“What? No!” Arthur shook his head, astounded by the notion. “Everything was fine when she left…” He looked over his shoulder and familiar blond hair came into view just down the walkway.
The Templar’s armour caught the sunlight, nearly blinding him. As Trevelyan grabbed Valeriana by her arm and dragged her out of view, a chill crawled up his spine. He was aware of Elliott’s harassment and his rude handling of her when she was being disciplined, and he bit the inside of his cheek.
No. The Templars wouldn’t dare to beat the mages in public.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s just busy,” Alistair shrugged. “And we’re not exactly supposed to be bothering the mages, anyhow— at least… not today.”
Amell turned his gaze back to Alistair and worried his thumb between his teeth before he nodded, slowly as his concern for her diminished.
That explains a lot. She’s probably exhausted. But that doesn’t explain the...
“She is a beauty, though.” Alistair’s cheerful tone interrupted his thoughts again, and the man grinned as he tilted his head.
“Aye…” the mage sighed and a half-hearted smiled stretched his lips. “She is. I’m Arthur, by the way,” He extended his hand to greet Alistair, and the warrior grasped his forearm.
“Well met. I’m Alistair, the new Grey Warden… though I suppose you already knew that,” Alistair laughed sheepishly before clearing his throat, “As a junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”
“I can’t prepare on my own?” Arthur raised a brow. He wasn’t against the idea, seeing as Alistair’s humour was endearing. It was just that he was enjoying his independence for the first time.
“I know! I felt the same way you did when I did this. Unfortunately, they don’t give us much choice.”
“Let’s get on with this, then,” Arthur nodded. “What’s the Joining like, anyhow?”
Valeriana
She wasn’t expecting to see Arthur, and for a moment, her heart fluttered. But then she saw the blood on the pillar behind him where it had happened, and a painful She couldn’t look him in the eye, despite how much she wanted to. She could feel Trevelyan’s presence in the distance as he stalked her, and she knew he’d seen Arthur kiss her. It was evident with how tightly he was holding her as he dragged her down the walkway away from the old temple.
Another wave of dizziness hit her, and she nearly fainted mid-step. Elliott caught her before she could collapse, and he steadied her on her feet.
From the outside looking in, it just seemed like he was committing an act of chivalry. A Templar helping his charge. But Valeriana knew better, and she recoiled when she saw the coldness of his eyes.
“I commanded you not to speak to him again,” his voice lowered so that only she could hear, and she shuddered.
“Ser Trevelyan, it’s not what you—”
“You will be silent,” he hissed, and his expression twisted, and his grip on her arm tightened as she winced, “You and I will have words tonight, mage. I can promise you that. Get back to work.”
Elliott released her and pushed her forward after she turned around, and she began to approach the crowd of her peers gathered around the Warden-Commander.
“I take it this is the last of the mages, Ser Trevelyan?” He asked.
“Aye, messere,” Elliott answered behind her. “Should you require anything of me, Duncan I’d be glad to lend my assistance.”
“Thank you, Ser Templar.”
Valeriana already knew he was giving Duncan a charming smile as if he didn’t threaten her just moments ago and her stomach turned.
Duncan began to address the mages among her, and his voice faded into white noise as Elliott’s fingers brushed against her backside. Her lower lip trembled, and she took a step forward.
“Duncan, If I may?” Wynne spoke up, capturing her attention.
“Go ahead, Wynne,” The Warden-Commander nodded.
“Our efforts to prepare the Joining ritual is a rare honour, indeed, but I must remind you all to tread carefully when you enter The Fade. Valeriana,” Wynne turned her head toward her, “You are excused from this task. More soldiers need healing in the infirmary.”
“Yes, Senior Enchanter,” Valeriana nodded. She was confused as to why the mages needed to go into The Fade but opted not to ask. She wasn’t participating, and the knowledge of it was irrelevant.
“Go on, child. I will join you after I am finished speaking with Duncan.”
“As you wish, Wynne.” Valeriana bowed slightly as she shifted her eyes to the Warden-Commander to silently bid him a farewell, and she caught a glimpse of his smile.
He reminded her of her father in a way, and her heart dropped.
I’ll never let the Templars get you, petal.
She closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to chase away the memory of the previous night. Valeriana could still feel Trevelyan’s breath against her ear, and his filth slithering inside her, tainting her with his hate. The loving bond she shared with Arthur was forever desecrated, and despite the terror she felt, an ember of rage began to form deep within.
“I will head back to my tent. Should you have any concerns about the preparations, Senior Enchanter, you may find me there.” Duncan said.
“Of course, Duncan…”
Their voices faded as she moved back towards the infirmary past the kennels, and she was surprised by the sight of more wounded soldiers that had returned from the Wilds. The sound of their pained groans left a pit in her stomach, and she inhaled sharply.
Valeriana reached into her rucksack and pulled the cork from the bottle before she brought the lyrium potion to her lips. As the fluid splashed against her tongue, she felt her weakness dissipate, and a burst of energy coursed through her veins.
“You’re back!” The nurse exclaimed when Valeriana’s eyes met hers. “Come now, we’ve much work to do, and your skills are sorely needed.”
“Right away, mistress.” Valeriana nodded, making haste toward the cot the nurse was kneeling beside.
She recoiled, gasping in horror when she saw the soldier’s missing arm and slashed chest and her hands flew to her mouth.
“Sanctus factorem! What happened to him?” She knelt beside the nurse, making quick work of channelling her mana to start healing his chest.
“He was scouting in the Wilds with Teyrn Cousland’s men,” The nurse replied as she settled torn leaves of elfroot into his severed limb.
“D-darkspawn… they’re coming for us,” The soldier sputtered, “We’re going to…” he gasped for air before an erratic breath escaped him and his blue eyes dilated.
“No, no— stay with us!” Valeriana gasped, attempting to use her magic to revive him, but he didn’t respond.
“He’s gone, child, there’s nothing we can do…” The nurse said, sympathetically.
Her lip quivered, and she looked away. She hadn’t seen someone die except for her parents, and even if it was a stranger, it was just as unpleasant.
“There are others that need your help.”
Hawke
It was nearly sunset by the time Cailan began to address the conscripts, and Reggie felt his eyes drooping shut every now and again during his lengthy speech. The soldiers began to roar with vigour, and it startled him back awake.
“The Wardens project the darkspawn will be arriving before dawn but worry not! We will crush the beasts beneath our heel, and we will defeat this blight! For Ferelden!” Cailan shouted, raising his sword high above his head.
“For Ferelden!” The soldiers repeated as they cheered, and the sound of their collective voices nearly blew out his eardrums.
“Rest up, men for tonight we shed blood together, and we will be victorious!” The King shouted again, and Reggie could see the pleased smirk on his face before he turned to leave them to their own devices. As the soldiers began to disperse to their tents to begin preparing for the battle, Carver approached his brother rubbing the back of his neck.
“Did you manage to catch any of that?” Carver asked.
“The last part…” Reggie admitted with a shrug, “I reckon you’re going to have one last meal before we march into the jaws of death?”
Carver rolled his eyes at Reggie’s remark, “So I can shit myself when the darkspawn come at us? No, I think not.”
“Ha! That would be quite the sight,” Hawke guffawed, earning a glare from his sibling.
“The soldiers are breaking open the casks. Perhaps I’ll join them. What about you, brother? What are you going to do to pass the time before battle?”
Hawke paused in thought, weighing his options. The idea of drinking his anxiety away was enticing, and after the day he had, he craved an ale. But his mind wandered to the disturbing conversation he had with Carver earlier that morning.
The locket that was tucked away in his trousers seemed to grow heavy, as did his conscience.
“I think I’m going to have a word with that girl.”
“A word?” Carver raised a brow.
“Don’t give me that look,” Reggie rolled his eyes, “I’m just going to return her bloody trinket.”
Carver gave Reggie a contemptuous look. “Alright, then,” he shrugged. “I’ll be sure to save you a flagon, should you return quickly.”
“More than likely, you’ll down the damned thing before I even get past the gate,” Reggie muttered under his breath as he began to walk away, manoeuvring through the crowd of the soldiers waiting for their supper.
It wasn’t long before he found himself in the King’s camp once again, and to say that he was surprised by the influx of wounded soldiers would be an understatement. As he set foot into the infirmary, he recoiled from the sight of the scouts with amputated limbs and gaping wounds. He already had his doubts about the battle even after Cailan’s speech and the gory display before him granted him no relief.
The rogue hardened his resolve and moved forward toward the Circle encampment before a blue glow caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned his head and saw Valeriana casting what he assumed was a healing spell on a woman who had nearly been disembowelled. A shriek ripped from the woman’s throat and Reggie watched in awe as the soldier’s wound slowly knitted together, and Valeriana collapsed in fatigue.
“I don’t know if I can keep this up, Wynne,” she groaned, and pulled herself back up to her feet.
“There should be a lyrium potion in her pack,” the older mage said, and her gaze fixed on Hawke, “Young man, would you give it to her?”
“I…” he hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sure.”
He bent down and grabbed her pack, rummaging through the contents before he wrapped his fingers around a cold bottle filled with blue fluid.
“Yes, that one.”
Reggie pulled the cork from the bottle and handed it to her, and he watched as she downed the elixir greedily. Her posture straightened after a moment, and she exhaled before handing the empty bottle back to him.
“May I have a word?” Hawke asked, tossing the bottle behind him, and it shattered on the ground.
She huffed. “Can it wait until I’m finished?”
“I suppose it can,” Hawke replied, fisting a hand into his pocket. He grasped her necklace with his fingers and ran his thumb against the chain.
“It’s alright, child. Take some time to breathe, but please do make it brief. I will see if I can gather more elfroot,” Wynne said as she finished pressing a salve into the soldier’s abdomen.
“Come with me,” Reggie said, and he earned a bewildered expression from the young mage.
“Why?”
“Just follow me.”
“Alright,” She was hesitant, but she followed him, nonetheless. He led her toward the kennels and pulled the heirloom from his pocket.
“I believe this is yours,” He said, opening his palm.
Her eyes widened with recognition, and her hand flew to her collar. His eyes flicked down to her neck, and he frowned as she plucked the necklace from his grasp. Her gaze fell to the ground and a pit formed in his gut.
Bruises…
He didn’t see them the night before, and his gut began to churn.
“Wh-where did you find it?”
Hawke pointed in the direction of the old ruin, and she turned her head. He didn’t miss the way her expression fell when she turned back to face him.
“Thank you for returning it, Reginald,” Valeriana said, softly.
“Reggie,” he muttered.
She looked up. “Beg your pardon?”
“It’s just Reggie,” he said tersely, “but I didn’t pull you aside for pleasantries. What the blazes happened to you?”
“What?” Valeriana blinked slowly and Reggie gestured to his own neck.
“You have bruises,” his voice lowered an octave, “And I’m pretty sure they weren’t there yesterday.”
Her eyes rounded and her posture stiffened. She pressed her palm against her forehead, and he noted the bandages wrapped around her fingers.
… And that would explain the blood Carver mentioned.
He didn’t need to ask about the torn knickers. In truth, he didn’t want to. It was all too easy to piece it together, and a sick feeling simmered in his stomach when he realised that she’d been raped. Rage began to brew within him as he thought about what was in store for his sister if she were caught.
Valeriana brought her hand back to her neck before it began to glow blue. “I fell…” she said, softly and removed her hand before the bruises vanished.
Reggie folded his arms over his chest and gave her a contemptuous look. “You don’t get marks like that from falling.”
His eyes softened when he realised how terrified she looked, and he could see her fingers begin to tremble before she clenched her fists. She took a shaky breath through her nose and exhaled as she looked up at him with wet eyes.
“I-I shouldn’t be talking to you.” She whispered.
“Tevinter,” a familiar voice resonated from his right, and he turned to see the Templar in question quickly approaching. “You’re supposed to be assisting the wounded, not sitting here batting your eyelashes at soldiers,” he snarled.
She yelped as he gripped her arm and Reggie’s expression twisted.
“Get your hands off her!” he barked. He already wanted to break the man’s teeth the day before, and now, he had a reason to.
“This is Templar business, serah,” the Free Marcher scoffed, “Perhaps you should mind your own.”
Reggie took a step closer to Trevelyan, and reached for his dagger.
“No, don’t!” Valeriana gasped and caught his wrist with her free hand.
He felt his anger dissipate, but only a little, and Reggie gave her a bewildered look. Her hand trembled against his skin and he slid his gaze to the Templar wearing a smug grin.
“Ser Elliott, he was just returning my mother’s locket,” she squeaked, “I… I thought I’d lost it…”
Hawke held his gaze, narrowing his eyes. As he lowered his fist, he realised that Valeriana was still clutching his hand, and from the corner of his eye, he could see curious gazes fixed on the three of them. After a long pause, Elliott released her arm with a huff and ran his fingers through his blond hair.
“Reggie, I appreciate your kindness,” her voice wavered as she spoke, “but I should return to my duties. Vitae benefaria, I wish you luck in the coming battle.”
She let go of his hand after a moment, and Reggie turned on his heel.
He closed his fist, and his knuckles made an audible pop. His blood was boiling again. He took a deep breath to calm himself and continued his stride towards the army’s encampment.
Summary: Reggie and Carver are put on night watch, and they meet Valeriana.
Warnings: None
Hawke
The ruins of Ostagar were much larger up close as the Hawke brothers entered Cailan’s camp on foot to get their blades sharpened by the quartermaster. Reggie was surprised to see so few Wardens wandering about and wondered if there were more arriving within the coming days. As the two passed through the camp’s infirmary, Carver let out a heavy sigh.
“I can’t believe Captain Varel isn’t taking this seriously,” Carver scoffed. “No trebuchets, no horses save for our own, and the King’s guard… I doubt they have any traps in place in the valley.”
“Maker’s balls. Give it a rest, will you?” Reggie muttered under his breath.
He was annoyed about being put on guard duty for later that evening. All because Carver decided it was a good idea to sass the captain about their defences just a few days after their arrival. But, his brother was right to be concerned, and even Hawke was silently praying that they’d both emerge victorious and unscathed.
“Look, if the battle turns against our favour, tuck tail and let me handle it,” Reggie said as they approached the line of conscripts waiting to be outfitted before a woman cut ahead of them. Carver’s reply stole his attention before he could say anything to her.
“I don’t need your protection, brother,” he scoffed.
“Don’t be an idiot. I don’t need to bury you just because you decided to be a hero.”
“Get off my back, Reggie.”
The woman turned to look at them with curiosity, and Reggie caught a glimpse of her green eyes and the dusting of freckles that covered her brown skin. He wasn’t particularly appreciative of eavesdropping, and his lips twisted into a scowl.
“Have we got a problem?” Hawke raised a brow. His tone was harsher than he intended, and she gasped lightly before her head snapped forward as she fidgeted with her crimson hair, nervously.
“It’s a wonder that you haven’t married yet,” Carver quipped, and his voice dripped with sarcasm, “Mother would be so proud.”
“Shut up, Carver,” he muttered.
As they continued to bicker amongst themselves, they hadn’t realised they moved so far up in the line until they heard the quartermaster’s baritone voice calling the next person forward, and Reggie looked down at the woman again.
She gave him an apologetic look over her shoulder, and her full lips parted. She seemed out of her element, and it made Hawke curious.
“What do you need, mage?” The quartermaster asked.
A mage?
“Erm… Just a bit of elfroot and poultices for the wounded, ser,” she said, turning her gaze forward. “And if you have any more lyrium potions, that would be appreciated.”
The softness of her voice surprised Hawke, and he tilted his head.
“Alright, help yourself. It’s all in the crate over there,” he pointed to his left.
Reggie fixed his gaze on her, watching as she made haste toward the crate and as she began rummaging through the container.
His eyes widened by a fraction as she bent at the waist to reach for the supplies she requested, and warmth pooled in his cheeks as he looked at her backside.
By the Maker…
He cleared his throat and ignored the curious gaze his brother was giving him before the quartermaster captured his attention.
“What do you two need? Arms or armour?”
“We need our swords sharpened,” Reggie answered, unsheathing his blade.
The man folded his arms over his chest, looking the brothers over, and Reggie could see the disappointment in his eyes as he eyed his weapon.
“No, that won’t do,” he hummed as he grabbed Hawke’s sword before tossing it into the pile of discarded weapons to his right. “I can outfit you both with better blades than that hog sticker. Red steel or grey iron?”
“How much is this going to cost me, exactly?” Reggie narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t much coin, and he was unwilling to spend what he earned on a war he wanted no part of.
“Won’t cost you a copper thanks to Cailan’s endless coffers,” he chortled in reply.
“Alright then. I’ll take the steel,” Reggie offered a curt nod.
“Good choice. And you?” The quartermaster shifted his gaze to the younger Hawke.
“Grey iron,” Carver said.
“Alright. Drop your blade in that pile over there, and I’ll see what I can bring you.”
The quartermaster turned, taking a moment to browse the weapons that rested on his table before approaching with their new swords.
“Here, these’ll hold up better than what you lot had.”
Hawke took the blade from the man and tested its weight, manoeuvring it with a flick of his wrist. It felt lighter than the one he brought from home and his lips perked into a smile for a moment before he sheathed it.
“Thanks, this will do,” Carver smiled as he sheathed his own sword.
“Anytime, lads. And if you need anything else, let me know. Next!”
Hawke turned on his heel to lead his brother to their post to relieve the guards from duty by the bridge. As they passed near the Circle’s camp, the same mage he’d seen just a few minutes ago appeared before them, seemingly out of nowhere. She was distracted, fastening her rucksack to her chest, and before she could look up, she collided with Reggie and was knocked backwards to the ground.
“Ow!”
“Watch where you’re going!” Reggie barked, reactively, earning a scowl from Carver.
“Don’t mind him,” Carver bent down to offer her his hand. “Are you alright?”
“I’m so sorry,” she took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet before she began to straighten her robes, “I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” the younger Hawke smiled, “I’m Carver, and this is my brother, Reginald.”
Reggie shot a glare at his brother. “It’s just Reggie,’’ he said with a flat tone as he looked at the mage.
“A pleasure,” she shifted her gaze from Carver to him, and he noticed her polite smile drop a fraction. “I’m Valeriana.”
“Well met,” Carver said. “I suspect you’re one of the healers, then?”
She nodded, shyly.
“A healer?” Hawke raised a brow, and offered a wry grin.
“Please, don’t do this.” Carver muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Well, I wouldn’t say no to your healing touch.”
Valeriana’s cheeks flushed, and a puff of air escaped her. “Oh. I— actually, I…” she was visibly flustered, and Reggie found it amusing. “I don’t mean to be rude, but…” she glanced behind her before lowering her voice. “I’m not interested.”
His brother snorted. “Oh ho! Shot down in flames!”
Hawke raised his brows, and a wave of embarrassment overcame him.“Oh, I erm…” he cleared his throat, and shifted his weight before running his fingers through his long hair. “My mistake.”
“Did you honestly think that would work on her?”
His expression soured, and he heard her giggle at his brother’s remark. “Keep a lid on it, Carver.”
“Mage,” A masculine voice interrupted their banter, and her head snapped toward the blond Templar that approached from the furthest tent. “Quit your dawdling with the soldiers and get to the infirmary. Now.”
“Y-yes ser,” she nodded before side-stepping Carver.
She mumbled something in a foreign tongue, and Reggie spared her a final glance as he wondered what she said.
“It would be wise if you two didn’t converse with the mages— especially that one, serah,” Elliott warned as he folded his arms over his chest.
“We were just leaving,” Carver nodded.
The Templar narrowed his gaze at Reggie as his lips twisted into a sneer. Had the man been anyone else, Hawke would have had him on his arse in less than a second for looking at him like that. But he knew better than to pick a fight with a Templar— especially with Cailan’s guards being in close proximity. Instead, he just offered a curt nod before he turned and walked away.
It wasn’t long before they finally reached their post across the bridge by the Tower of Ishal and much to their surprise, the guard that was supposed to be relieved had already left. Hawke sighed and leaned against a crumbling wall while he rested his eyes above the tree line, watching the sunset, and he turned his thoughts to Valeriana. A soft chuckle escaped him, and he gently shook his head.
Valeriana
“Fasta vass,” she cursed as she made her way toward the infirmary with haste, ignoring the curious gazes of the brothers she’d just met.
She could feel Elliott trailing behind her, and she cringed inwardly.
Valeriana did her best not to pay him any attention, and instead, busied herself with the wounded soldiers that had been brought back from the Korcari Wilds.
“Did you bring elfroot, child?” An older woman kneeling beside a frightened soldier asked as she approached the cot.
“Yes, mistress I have it here,” Valeriana reached into her rucksack, pulling out the bundle of herbs she collected, “But I don’t think stitches and elfroot will be enough. If you permitted me, I could use my magic to heal him.”
She glanced down at the gaping wound in his thigh and frowned. She knew that if she didn’t heal him with her power, the wound would surely fester.
“Alright, go ahead,” The woman nodded.
Valeriana focused her energy on her hands, whispering the incantation to herself before her fingers began to glow blue. She hovered her hands over his wound and watched the wound slowly begin to close. She felt herself becoming drained, and the wave of fatigue hit just as the gash in his leg became manageable for the nurse to work with.
She exhaled and dropped her hands to her sides.
“Thank you,” the man gave her an appreciative smile, and she returned it.
“You are most welcome,” she replied before looking at the woman.
“Mistress, did you need anything else before nightfall?”
“If you would be so kind,” she started pulling apart the elfroot from the bundle before ripping apart the herbs, “I require a bit of deep mushroom to make more healing potions for our wounded.”
“I don’t believe I saw any deep mushroom in the supply crate, mistress,” Valeriana sighed, already knowing she was going to be sent off for another trivial task.
“Pity,” she paused in thought. “There should be an ample amount in the field just beyond the gate. If it would not trouble you, Ser Trevelyan,” she raised her eyes to Elliott who was standing behind Valeriana, “could you accompany the young mage with her task?”
“What?” Valeriana deadpanned.
“It would be my pleasure,” he was smiling when she turned and the sight of it turned her stomach.
“Thank you, dear boy.”
He may have had kind eyes and a charming face, but she knew of the darkness that lie beneath. Nothing good could come from this, and she suspected his motivations were all but sinister. He shifted his emerald gaze to Valeriana before giving her a nod, silently telling her to start walking.
With great reluctance, she moved ahead of him and clenched her fists to stop her hands from trembling.
As they crossed the bridge together, she felt her anxiety peak. The sun had almost completely disappeared behind the horizon by the time they approached the gate to the Imperial Highway, and Cailan’s men began to light their torches, illuminating their path forward.
“Hold on, Templar,” a familiar voice rang, “What business do you have beyond the gate?” It was Carver and Valeriana’s expression brightened when she looked up. But then, she slid her gaze to Reggie, and her smile faded.
Great.
He was the least pleasant of the two brothers that she’d met earlier that day, and she wasn’t counting on seeing him again. Despite his awkward attempt at flirting, her first impression of him was less than amicable.
“My charge has been tasked to gather herbs by the infirmary’s nurse,” Elliott answered impatiently. “Let us pass.”
“I’ll go with them,” Reggie shrugged as he pushed off of the column he was leaning against. “Beats sitting here with you all night.”
Valeriana emitted a heavy sigh, and offered a half-hearted smile. While she was relieved that she wasn’t going to be alone with Trevelyan, she wasn’t thrilled to be in Reggie’s presence again.
Carver rolled his eyes, and opened the gate, allowing the three of them to slip through before he shut it behind them.
“What kind of herbs did you need?” Reggie asked as he adjusted the torch in his hand.
“Just a bit of deep mushroom,” Valeriana replied, wringing her hands together, anxiously.
“What for?”
“It’s none of your concern, soldier,” Elliott interjected, scowling at him.
“On the contrary, I’m on night watch, Templar,” Reggie retorted. “Therefore, it is my concern.”
Valeriana’s eyes rounded in surprise. She never heard anyone speak to a Templar like that before without being struck in return. After nearly a decade of being locked away in a tower, she hadn’t even considered talking back to the knights lest she be beaten or worse.
“So why do you need deep mushroom?” He asked again, directing his attention back on Valeriana.
“The nurse needs to make more potions,” She answered meekly, feeling Elliott’s gaze burning a hole in the side of her head.
“Alright then. There should be some in a meadow not too far up ahead,” he hummed.
“So, that man back at the gate… you’re brothers?” Valeriana tilted her head.
Reggie paused, and gritted his teeth. “What’s it to you?”
“Nothing. It’s just… I’ve always wanted siblings,” she murmured, attempting to make polite conversation to ease her nerves, and Reggie looked at her curiously. “But I suppose my friends in the Circle are the closest thing I’ll ever get.”
“Huh,” he pursed his lips. “You said your name was Valeriana, right?” Reggie asked with a softer tone, and she nodded.
“Doesn’t sound Fereldan,” he shrugged. “Where are you from?”
His curiosity seemed genuine, and she gave him a warm smile.
“Oh,” she chirped, “I was born in Ferelden, but my father was from—”
“Enough chatter,” Elliott interrupted, clenching his jaw. He gripped Valeriana’s arm almost painfully, and she winced.
“Y-yes, ser,” Valeriana cast her gaze downward. She didn’t notice Reggie narrowing his eyes.
The three of them continued to walk in uncomfortable silence before Valeriana spotted the deep mushroom clustered against a large boulder. She moved ahead quickly, and rooted out each of the fungi, carefully storing them in her rucksack while Reggie stood beside her to give her light.
“I’m sure that should be enough,” she said as she stood. “I think we can head back to camp, now.”
“Lead on, then,” Reggie gestured with a nod. The pleasant demeanour he had for the short while they’d conversed had all but dissolved, and Valeriana frowned before she silently moved forward in front of him.
Hawke
The quiet night passed slowly, and Reggie shifted his weight as his knees began to ache from standing. It couldn’t have been more than three hours since he returned from the meadow, and he sighed heavily. He wasn’t expecting to see Valeriana again, and he didn’t fail to notice her skittishness around the Templar or his total lack of subtlety when she bent down to gather the mushrooms.
The way the knight was leering at the mage as they walked back to the gate unnerved him, and his concern for Bethany grew. His jaw clenched as he imagined his sister in Valeriana’s place, and a chill crawled up his spine.
Maker, please watch over my sister, and protect her from harm.
His silent prayer was interrupted when he heard Carver mutter something under his breath, and Reggie turned to look at him.
“What’s with you?”
“Nothing. I…” Carver sighed, “I’m just thinking about Bethany and Mother.”
“They’re fine, Carver.”
“I know that. But will we be? Without a decent strategy, we won’t survive... who’s going to take care of them if we die?”
Reggie shut his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Of course, he was still on the subject of the lack of defences and their impending doom. He was fed up with hearing about it, but he didn’t want to spend the night arguing with his younger brother. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck.
“We’re not going to die, brother.”
“How do you know that?” Carver turned his head to look at his brother with a furrowed brow.
“Listen to yourself,” Hawke scoffed, “You sound like a fucking coward.”
The impact of Carver’s fist was sudden, and Reggie’s head snapped backwards before pain radiated in his nose. His hand flew to his face, and he groaned reactively as blood slowly began to trickle from his nostrils. He let out a humourless laugh, surprised that his brother punched him, and he wiped his nose with his sleeve.
Carver shoved Reggie backwards into the wall, and punched him again, this time in his jaw.
“I’m not a coward,” Carver sneered as he shook his hand a few times.
“Are you done?” Reggie said after a pause and his sibling scoffed in reply.
He knew he could easily knock out Carver, but he chose not to. It was better to let his brother have his tantrum, and Carver wouldn’t be of any use if his eye was swollen shut during the battle.
“You’re an ass, you know that?”
“I can live with it,” he deadpanned. “Retain that vigour for the battle, and quit your blubbering.”
He shoved Carver back, and wiped his nose again, feeling more blood spilling. He ignored the glare his brother was giving him and decided it was best if they separated for a few hours. The tension between the two had been thick ever since they left Lothering, and Hawke was glad that Carver finally got it out of his system.
“I’m going on patrol across the bridge. Try not to fall asleep.”
“Sod off,” Carver scowled at his brother as he folded his arms.
Reggie turned to walk toward the bridge, shaking his head. He was just as concerned as the next person, but now was not the time to flounder in foul spirits. Of course, he knew the risk of never returning home, but he didn’t want to think of that possibility.
He raised his torch higher and looked over the vast valley that lie below the ruin. He began to imagine what the battle would be like against those creatures. Despite the optimism of King Cailan when he addressed them upon their arrival, his gut wrenched with doubt.
“Maker, watch over us,” Hawke sighed, and continued his patrol at a relaxed pace.
Summary: Hawke and Carver leave Lothering to join King Cailan’s forces in Ostagar. Meanwhile Valeriana says goodbye to her friends in the Circle of Magi.
Warnings: None
Hawke
Reggie tightened the straps of his leather armour before sheathing his dagger and picking up his longsword while Carver was saying goodbye to Bethany and their mother outside near their barn. It was a five-day journey to Ostagar, and they were among the last of the conscripts to leave Lothering to meet King Cailan.
The eldest Hawke wasn’t particularly thrilled about receiving a conscription letter, but he had no other choice but to lend his aid to Cailan, lest he be labelled a deserter, and executed. In truth, Reggie was more than content with staying in Lothering to protect his sister from being taken to the Circle of Magi, or worse, be slain by Templars.
He’d spent the better part of eight years keeping her safe. Yet, he knew that it was his duty to serve Ferelden, whether he wanted to or not. He let out a heavy sigh as he took one last look at his childhood home before he looked down at the family dog.
“Alright Balthazar, take care of mother and Bethany for us,” he smiled at the mabari, and the dog gave a low, sad whine in return.
“Now, now,” Reggie lowered his hand to pet the hound, “Carver and I are going to slay darkspawn. Do you really want to come with us to do that?”
The mabari growled his reply, and he laughed, scratching behind his ears.
“I didn't think so, boy. Come on. Say goodbye to Carver.”
The rogue walked with Balthazar toward the stables to meet his sibling, hoping that Carver packed enough rations to last until they arrived in Ostagar. As he approached, he could hear his mother crying and his heart sank. He could only imagine how hard it must’ve been for her, especially after his father’s death just a few years ago.
“Please be careful— both of you,” Leandra sniffled.
“We’ll be alright, mum. Don’t worry. I heard that the Grey Wardens are lending their assistance to Cailan,” Carver smiled at Leandra, fixing his blue eyes on hers.
“I’ll miss you, Carver,” Bethany smiled bitterly and embraced her twin, tightly.
“We’ve no time to dawdle,” Reggie said, “the sooner we get to Ostagar, the sooner we can come back home.”
“Eager to run into the jaws of death, I see.” Carver quipped, and Leandra gave them both a disapproving look.
“No more than you are,” Reggie gently bumped his younger brother’s shoulder with his fist, and his brother shot him a glare.
“Shut up,” Carver rolled his eyes, returning the gesture aggressively.
Ow.
Reggie grimaced and frowned before his mother grabbed his wrist.
“Reginald, I mean it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you, too.”
“We’ll be fine, mother,” Reggie reassured and kissed her cheek. He looked at his youngest sibling and pulled her into his arms, and she wept against his chest. “It’s alright, Bethany, we’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed his sister’s forehead and hugged her tighter.
Carver gathered their horses from the stables and tightened the saddle on his own before mounting the gentle beast. Reggie pulled away from Bethany and mounted his horse, watching Leandra and Bethany wiping their tears away.
“May the Maker watch over both of you,” Leandra said.
“May He watch over us all,” Reggie nodded and took the lead, galloping towards the West Road at the edge of the village to meet with the other conscripts who were travelling on foot.
“Do you think Horsemaster Dennet will lend his assistance from Redcliffe?” Carver asked, “We’ll need a decent cavalry if the darkspawn raid is as big as the conscription notices say.”
“Unlikely,” Reggie replied as he pulled the reins to slow his horse to a trot, moving ahead of the marching soldiers and Carver followed suit. “You know as well as anyone that the war hounds that Cailan has trained are vicious enough.”
Despite not outright saying it, Reggie agreed with his brother. Mounts were essential, and if the legends of the Darkspawn were true, a cavalry would certainly give Cailan’s men an edge.
“True enough, but it seems like a waste if we don’t have one. Relying on mabari and foot soldiers alone seems like suicide.”
“I suppose we’ll find out when we get there. Hopefully, this Captain Varel will have the answers to your questions.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Carver furrowed his brows at his brother.
“What more is there to say? I’m not your fucking commanding officer, Carver. If you have gripes about what resources we need to use, take it up with the Captain, not me.”
Carver muttered something under his breath, looking away.
“What was that?” He challenged.
“Nothing. Let’s just… stop talking.”
For the remainder of the day, they rode in silence until they made camp in the Hinterlands, and as the brothers set up their tent, Carver finally spared his brother a glance, and Reggie noticed.
He could tell that he was still annoyed by Reggie’s casual dismissal of his concerns and he emitted an exasperated sigh.
“What is it, brother?” Reggie asked, knowing exactly what Carver wanted to say.
“Nothing.”
“You don’t stare at me for ‘nothing,’ Carver,” he nailed the burlap into the ground with a large stone before standing.
“It’s nothing. I’m going to bed.”
Reggie narrowed his eyes at his brother, folding his arms over his chest. He stood in a brief silence before shrugging. “As you like. I’m going to talk to the other conscripts. Sleep well.”
Valeriana
It wasn’t unusual to be summoned by the First Enchanter, especially as a Harrowed mage. There was always something that Irving required, especially of her. He made a point to task Valeriana with helping the Senior Enchanters tutor mages, despite knowing how much they feared her.
After nearly ten years in the Circle of Magi, the rumours still circulated regarding whether she was a blood mage. Each time a new apprentice arrived, her peers educated them on how she came to Kinloch Hold, and why she needed Templar bodyguards.
Of course, it was all speculation, and could not be further from the truth. She never knew about blood magic until her father used it to protect her from the Templars that came to arrest them. But that was years ago, and he was dead. For six long years, she was separated from the other apprentices.
For six years, she suffered abuse at the hands of her Templar bodyguards, and in the four years following her Harrowing, it was no better. Despite her freedom to socialise without a knight intervening, she was still isolated, aside from Anders and Amell. They were her only allies in this gilded cage. They were the only two that didn’t see her as a monster.
“I take it you’ve been adjusting well with assisting the new Senior Enchanter,” Irving said, pulling her out of her thoughts.
She blinked slowly, shifting her tired eyes to the Knight-Commander who stood to her right. She stopped listening to what Irving was saying halfway through his pointless speech. It was hardly ever important. She knew there was a trivial request coming, possibly something about asking the apprentices to assist with cataloguing the new books that had arrived.
“But that is not why I’ve summoned you, child,” he continued, and she inhaled slowly.
“What would you have of me, First Enchanter?” She did her best not to show her vexation, willing herself to give him a practised smile.
“King Cailan requires talented mages to leave for Ostagar to assist him with combat,” He clasped his frail hands together, and gave a soft smile in return, “and I believe you would be a fine addition to his army, Valeriana.”
“I beg your pardon?” Valeriana’s eyes widened. She half expected to wake up in her quarters any moment.
“I believe you are ready to leave the Tower. You have proven to be trustworthy, and I know that your loyalties lie with the Circle.”
“To serve with the King of Ferelden is a great honour, and you’ve earned it. Do not abuse our trust, Tevinter.” Greagoir finally said, folding his arms over his chest.
It took everything in her not to scowl at the Templar, and she simply nodded.
“You will leave with Senior Enchanter Wynne at nightfall. The rest of the day is yours to prepare.” Irving said.
“Thank you, First Enchanter,” She replied before leaving his office.
She moved through the passageway into her shared quarters with haste, still in disbelief. She was still adjusting to the small freedom of roaming about the Tower without two Templars on her shoulder. The mere idea of going outside for the first time in a decade made her anxious. She hadn’t felt the rain kissing her skin in so long, nor had she touched the soft grass.
Valeriana absently brushed her fingertips against the locket her mother had given her, and her eyes fixed on the spell tome she’d been studying before she was summoned.
“I’ve been informed that you were permitted to leave the tower,” a voice rang from the doorway, unexpectedly. “Is this true?”
“Vishante kaffas!” She gasped, startled.
The mage turned around to find Cullen leaning against the wall, and she nearly folded under his intense brown gaze.
Sweet Maker, what does he want?
“Y-yes, Ser Cullen,” she nodded, forcing a smile.
“Yes, well…” he paused, glancing over to her unmade bed and cluttered surroundings. His eyes shifted back to her, and she looked at her feet. “I just wanted to say that I hope you return swiftly.”
She opened her mouth, and shut it, taken aback. “I… Thank you, Cullen.”
He was being uncharacteristically kind to her, and she inhaled sharply, unnerved. Despite his outwardly empathetic nature toward the other mages, she knew him to be just as ruthless as the other Templars. Though he hadn’t been an active participant in the abuse she’d suffered, he was always present and said nothing.
“Of course. Maker watch over you,” he turned to walk away, and she shuddered.
Creepy bastard.
“There you are!” Anders exclaimed as he approached her quarters, and her emerald eyes brightened with joy. He side-stepped Cullen as he walked out of view, and muttered a half-hearted apology.
“Were you looking for me?” She smiled, genuinely this time.
Anders nodded. “That one apprentice we mentor told me he wanted to study together, but Leorah said you were meeting with Irving.”
“He has a name, you know.”
“Hey…” Anders glanced behind him as she rolled her eyes, “why was Cullen talking to you?”
“Who knows? He’s been following me around more often than usual.” She shrugged, and her voice dropped several octaves. “Probably looking for a reason for Trevelyan to throw me in the dungeons again.”
“What?” he tilted his head.
Valeriana sighed. “Nothing. Anyway, I actually wanted to talk to you about my meeting with Irving…” Valeriana turned and shut her spell tome before reaching for her rucksack. “If you’ve a mind to listen.”
“Oh?” Anders raised a brow, “What’s happened?”
“I’m finally leaving the tower,” she beamed.
“What?” He furrowed his brow and folded his arms over his chest, “Why?”
“King Cailan needs mages for his army,” she sighed and moved her pale green gaze to the blond mage standing just a few metres before her. “And apparently, I’ve proven myself.”
“And did Irving tell you why he needs mages?”
Valeriana shook her head. “But, after I have my things packed, I'll probably ask Wynne. He said she’s going, too.”
“Oh Maker, of course, that old biddy is going,” Anders sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good luck with that.”
“She’s not that bad, you know,” Valeriana giggled.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have to listen to her endless lectures as an apprentice,” he scoffed. “At any rate, You should probably tell that apprentice that you’re leaving. I don’t think I could stand to see him moping about while you’re gone.”
“His name is Arthur,” she said, tersely.
“Yes, Arthur…” he paused and furrowed his brow, “What’s going on between you two, anyway?”
A pause came, and her stomach knotted.
Oh… shit.
“What are you talking about?”
“I saw you two sneaking into the potions cabinet the other night,” Anders smirked.
Valeriana’s cheeks grew hot with embarrassment and her lips fell open, surprised by the question.
“Th-that is none of your business,” she sputtered.
“Val, we’re in the Circle. Everything that goes on here is everyone’s business,” Anders raised a brow, amused by her reaction. “And everyone is talking about it. Is it serious?”
“I would like to think so…” Valeriana paused, opting not to tell Anders the details of her relationship with Arthur. Only the Maker knew what manner of gossip would circulate in her absence.
“Then, I’m happy for you,” he smiled. “You deserve to feel joy every once in a while.”
Her heart warmed at his unexpected words, and she grinned. “I’ll miss you, Anders.”
“I’ll miss you, too.”
“Don’t tell me he’s plotting another escape, again.”
A suave voice sounded from the doorway, and both mages turned to find Arthur poking his head from behind the stack of books he was holding.
His charming smile nearly melted her heart and her stomach fluttered. His raven hair curled just below his ears in a shaggy mess that she found endearing.
“Not right now, but the day is still young,” Anders jested with a shrug.
“Don’t let the Templars hear you saying that,” Arthur teased as he walked into her quarters. “I wouldn’t want my favourite mentor to be locked in the dungeons, again.”
“Oh, please. We both know your favourite is Val.”
“Hm, true. She is a lot prettier than you,” the apprentice grinned.
“If you get enough wine in your system, everyone looks pretty,” Anders quipped, and Valeriana shook her head.
“So, where are you off to now, Anders?” He set the books down on her writing desk before he turned around to face his peers. “Did that old bat finally give you permission to leave?”
“Ha! That miserable fool would never, I’m afraid,” Anders rolled his eyes. “But Val’s leaving, not me. She’s headed for Ostagar.”
“What?” Amell frowned, and looked at her.
“I’m leaving tonight, but I’ll be back, Arthur.”
“I’m sure he’ll miss the occasional midnight visit to the potions room, no doubt.”
“Sweet Maker,” Valeriana shot a glare at the blond mage while Arthur chuckled, “get out of my chambers.”
“Alright, alright. I’ll give you two some privacy,” Anders put up his hands, “Did you want me to keep watch while you two indulge in a quick—”
“Get out!” Valeriana began to push Anders out of the room, laughing as she closed the door.
“You told him about us?” Arthur pushed his fingers through his thick hair.
“No, but apparently, we’re not as subtle as we thought we were,” she groaned in exasperation, “And everyone is talking.” Valeriana pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “Dear Maker, I doubt we’ll hear the end of it, now.”
“You sound like you have regrets…” he pointed out.
Valeriana gaped at his comment, slightly offended. “Of course not! But it won’t be long until the enchanters start accusing me of using blood magic on you, or worse… and that bothers me.”
“I’m not bothered,” Arthur reached forward to sweep her hair behind her ear. “They can sod off with their ridiculous rumours, for all I care. They don’t know the real you.”
Her brown cheeks reddened, and she lowered her eyes to the ground, bashfully. “Flatterer.”
“I’m only speaking the truth, love,” his soft smile fell. “But I am worried about you going to Ostagar.”
“You don’t have to worry. I’ll be alright.”
“No, you don’t understand. I heard some of the enchanters talking on the way up here. They said something about another Blight starting.”
“What?” Valeriana was taken aback, and she wondered why Irving failed to mention that important detail.
“I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve read about the darkspawn and I…” he paused, looking down, “If half of what is written about them is true, I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You won’t lose me, Arthur,” Valeriana took a step toward him and grabbed his hand. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and she smiled as she squeezed his palm against hers.
“If only my damned phylactery wasn’t locked up,” he sighed.
Amell made no secret of wanting to leave the Circle as he brought up the subject of running away with her more often than not. Although it was a romantic notion, she knew that they’d be hunted for the rest of their lives. Her own phylactery was already in Denerim, and she couldn’t ask him to risk his life for her.
“Arthur,” She murmured, tersely, “Stop. Don't go looking for trouble. Just focus on making it through your Harrowing.”
Arthur sighed heavily, and shook his head. “Just promise me you’ll come back, love.”
“I promise, Arthur. You have my word.”
He kissed her with fervour as she pulled him closer by the collar of his robes. His hands rested on her waist, and sorrow gripped her heart as she began to consider the possible future.
What if I can’t keep my promise?
What will become of us?
