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How to Adopt a Warden and Other Tales	By : Royality Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 2658 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 14
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Coming of the Proving Grounds, Izarre was greeted by his friends. Zevran quickly flattered him with many compliments and boasted about how not even the best assassin had yet to pull off such an invisible blade trick before. Wynne gently congratulated him not only on his victories, but also on the newfound mastery over his specialized element. Even Morrigan, in her own way, praised him somewhat before feeling sick of her own mushiness and demanded they hurry up to get back on the task at hand. Alistair, however, stood in the back with his arms folded over his chest in silence until the crowd parted quietly to make room for him.
There was a silent stare between himself and his lover until the arms unfolded and came around Izarre’s shoulders in a strong embrace. “I am so, so sorry,” he said as he held Izarre close. When pulling away, he still kept his hands on the smaller man’s shoulders to look into those surprised green eyes. “I should have never had doubted you, but I…” But before he could finish, Alistair found himself cross-eyed while staring at the pale finger placed upon his lips.
“No, you shouldn’t have,” smirked the warden in front of him. “Glad you came to your senses.” It was said in a teasing manner, something Alistair had grown to understand as a sign of both affection and forgiveness.
“Well, I’ll just have to make it up to you then,” he teased right back before the couple started to exchange small smiles and flirtatious snickering. It didn’t take long before Wynne had to separate them like children. Or dogs.
“Yes, yes, we all agree that Izarre recovered well, but by the skin of his teeth. You pull another stunt like that again, young man, and you won’t be so lucky. I am not as kind as the Dwarves!” Alistair put an arm around his partner and continued to smile until he was flicked on the nose by a bony, delicate finger. “Quiet you. You are in as much trouble as he is.” Holding his nose with his free hand, Alistair rubbed it as he whined nasally.
“Huh?” he asked with a bit of sulk in his voice. “What did I do?”
“Do you really have to ask?” Morrigan chimed in. “Don’t we have an appointment to keep with doing everyone else’s dirty work?” Zevran knew better than to stir the wrath of women, young or old, and decided it was best to only nod, keep quiet, and start heading toward Lord Harrowmont’s dwelling. In the private quarters of the man who would be the new king was yet another task. This time it was to flush out a criminal element in the underbelly of the city. Her name was Jarvia, leader of the local cartel. While the task seemed trivial, if not at all difficult, seeing the casteless thrown away like garage ruffled more than just a few feathers on Izarre’s head. He was one of these once, a wretched soul living on scraps in dirty rags as a child in Highever. Alistair was also noticeably disheartened by the living conditions as well as Zevran.
“These poor people,” Wynne said to herself as she stepped over piles of rotten food, rat-filled water supplies, and sleeping half-naked bodies.
“Why?” Morrigan asked. “They could easily rise up and take what they wanted if they truly wished it. They choose to live like this.”
“No one chooses to live like this,” Alistair said in a soft, but stern tone as if trying to remember every face he saw and he stopped by a young mother begging for money. She had been thrown out her family for having the same-sex child of a casteless man. Her family gave her the ultimatum of killing the infant or living in this part of the city. Izarre listened to her story, but soon walked away with quick steps back to the upper level. When on flat ground again past the crumbling staircase, he sprinted to the house of the woman’s parents to give them a piece of his mind. While his companions chased after him, Alistair blocked the entryway to give the pissed off warden room to berate the father who had thrown out his own child and grandchild all because of the origin of a baby’s birth.
It took such verbal abuse for the father to admit to a mistake and sent the group back with a message for his daughter and her child to come home. It was one good deed for the Maker to smile upon as they shifted their attention back to hunting down street gangs. Jarvia met her end at the tip of Alistair’s sword, but that did not put to a stop to Harrowmont’s list of ridiculous favors. Apparently, all had been for nothing as the elderly Dwarf explained a change in development surrounding the race for the throne. A Paragon’s favor would seal the deal and one could be found in the Deep Roads.
While the Deep Roads was filled with many dangers, even for Grey Wardens, Izarre never thought that one of those dangers would be a drunk with red hair. It was also the second time he had been confused for a woman. Alistair couldn’t help but laugh at the case of mistaken identity which proved, at least in his mind, that he wasn’t the only one who could make such an error. “Large but chaste bosom indeed,” he also added as he elbowed Zevran for confirmation, but he was only met with a disapproving shaking head.
Oghren was a great warrior, or at least was at some point, before a bad marriage and heavy drinking got the best of him. In fact, he was constantly drunk even when there wasn’t any alcohol around. “How in the Maker’s name do you manage that?” Alistair asked. “Is anyone carrying any alcohol? Anyone at all?”
“Yer just jealous,” hiccupped their new tagalong into the underground darkspawn-filled maze that was the Deep Roads.
“A little, yes. Why can’t I be drunk all the time? I never get to be drunk.”
“You know, if you drank more wine, you would whine much less…”
“Oh, look. A drunken dwarf with jokes. How do we manage to be so lucky, Izzy?” Though both Izarre and Wynne refused to answer the childish bickering as Morrigan found herself in agreement with Oghren.
“Wine? Is that all it would take to shut him up?”
“Heh, heh,” laughed the redhead in a most devious way. “That’s all it would take to get you to open up too…if ya catch my drift.”
“Oh! Clever! You know how I can open you up? Turning into a massive spider and eating you.”
“Heh, you want to…what?” Oghren asked as he finally caught on to what she said. “Hey, that’s not...Shh…Ya hear that? There’s something ahead.”
Off the beaten path was a massive cliff where whispers could be heard echoing from beneath their feet. It might have been sheer curiosity or instinct of their tainted blood, but something compelled both wardens to explore the noise. In the chasm below were thousands of lights, each representing a darkspawn, but it was the earsplitting scream that forced both of them to their knees. With blurry vision, all they could do was watch the archdemon fly to a high perch with its massive, yet corroded wings. The gust of wind created from the flaps nearly knocked everyone off their feet. Even those without the dark call in the veins felt a sense of terror they had never known before. If death had a face, it was seen that very day.
(AN: A few lines of dialogue have been taken directly from the game or have been paraphrased from game dialogue. Anything recognizable as game dialogue is not mine and I bow to the BioWare writing team.)
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- 15
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How to Adopt a Warden and Other Tales