This is my original Blight fic from when I first joined Tumblr in 2012, A Warden's Duty. Starring my Elissa Margaret Cousland, it's the basis of my entire Dragon Age world state.
In the aftermath of Thancred's soul being pulled to the First - not that he knows it yet - Ar'telan has some thoughts.
It was difficult to forget the memory.
The pain, like a wrenching in his head. The voice, with its vague and ominous proclamations. Coming to and realising that for the first time it wasn't just him who had felt the ripples, that this magic extended past the Echo.
Thancred, falling in slow motion to the floor.
He had paced in irritable slow motion as Kan-E-Senna had looked him over in a private room. He had seen Y'shtola on her linkpearl, a frown of concern on her face all the while. Watched Lyse fret in the agonising minutes of wait, practically bouncing in place from the stress.
And when the healers had returned, and given their proclamation of his condition, Ar'telan had felt entirely numb.
They were in the Rising Stones now. Krile had set Thancred up in a side room, hastily put together and entirely devoid of comforts. She had promised she would improve it in time, but Ar'telan wasn't sure it would matter to Thancred.
He was still as the grave. There was still warmth in his body when Ar'telan put a hand on his arm, but there was nothing there. Life without life. When he reached out with curative magic, there was nothing in Thancred's body to answer.
His body worked. His heart beat, his breath, though slow, was steady. But there was nothing within it.
Ar'telan was not worried. Not as worried as he should have been. A soul did not leave without somewhere to go, and the source was crystal clear - the voice that had echoed in their heads. It was simply a matter of locating the source, taking back what had been stolen, and returning it.
Simply, he thought, as if it would be simple.
But Thancred would be safe in the meanwhile. It did not precisely do a body good, to be without a soul, but it would carry on for a time. The clock ticked, yes, but Krile was an excellent healer, and he trusted the rest of the Scions to handle the rest. To find the target at which to point him, and for once he would not entirely resent the role.
"Ah, there you are." Y'shtola still had the frown of worry etched into her face, but her tone was as businesslike as ever. She strode across the room with purpose, carefully manouevering the haphazardly tossed items from a chair and pulling it over to sit across from Ar'telan, who was still sat on the bed that Thancred lay upon.
"I can't be much use anywhere else, right now," he replied, and that made her frown deepen.
"I thought I might check in. Make sure all is well," she said. "You've been remarkably composed, for watching the man you love lose his soul." Ar'telan grimaced at the frankness of it.
"I'm…" He hesitated over the words, trying to find the right signs. "It isn't that different to… to Haurchefant."
It was different, of course. Thancred's body was entirely intact, functional in absence. Haurchefant had barely breathed for those long months he had lain comatose, and the vigils in the beginning had been nigh-constant to ensure he did not slip across the threshold. He and Alphinaud trading shifts, each greeting the other with the bone-deep exhaustion of someone who had given all of the aether and all of their strength in that twelve-hour watch. He was glad, in a way, that Alphinaud was not here to witness this. The boy was strong, yes, but he was still just a boy. The world had thrown enough at his feet without this bitter mirror.
"You'll forgive me if that doesn't fill me with confidence," Y'shtola remarked, crossing one leg over the other.
"I'm hardly the only one here pretending everything's ok."
That earned a wince, slight though it was. It did not feel like a victory.
"Well, then we shall suffer together," she said. "You understand this, yes? You need not bear this burden alone." Ar'telan looked down at his knees.
"I know," he said, but his heart wasn't in the motions. "I can't… help, yet, though." Y'shtola sighed.
"This is as much help as anything else is," she said, her voice quiet. "We will find an answer. And you are part of that we."
"It… helps to hear you say it, I suppose," Ar'telan tried. Both of them knew that his usefulness would be far outweighed by the others, but it was something. "Like as not I will try to sleep and it… it will all hit me, all at once. But I'm alright for now." Y'shtola inclined her head, reaching out to touch his wrist in a gentle show of support.
"I'll be there to listen, if you need it," she said. "This isn't your fault."
"I know that," Ar'telan replied. He almost believed it, too. "I wish it made a litte more sense, but… the fact that it doesn't means that it can't have been something I did, I suppose."
"Aye, and we all heard the voice, wherever it came from," Y'shtola said. "This is aimed at all of us."
"That doesn't really make be feel better," Ar'telan said, his face tightening in anger as he formed the words. "Just… don't join him. Please."
"You can be assured I have no desire to do so," Y'shtola assured him.
