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Blood Promise	By : Hikari86 Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4556 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything Dragon Age. I claim no ownership and make no money/profit.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Plan Execution

They headed out, the two rogues and two mages, leaving Merrill's house with a mission to collect their companions, tell them their plan, then head to Hightown. It was going to be a tricky plan to initiate, but she knew if they did it right, everything would work out, and Flint Company would never know what hit them. Jordan thought about the plan as she walked, making her way around the Vhenadahl, when she suddenly had to stop, noticing something not right. There was a human in the alienage, and not just her, Bethany, and Isabela. He was a templar, sticking out like a sore thumb, and appearing to be speaking to a distraught elven woman. She was pleading with him over something, and Jordan wondered if it was because he might be taking her child away, due to the fact they might be a mage. It piqued her curiosity, and decided to get a little closer to hear the conversation. None of the others asked what she was doing after she gestured to the templar and elf.
“I am sorry for your loss, mistress,” the templar said, sounding as if he really was. “But I can offer your son mercy only if he turns himself in.”
“I'm trying to find him,” the woman sobbed. “But... he just left. I don't know where he might be.”
“Again, I'm sorry,” said the templar. “But the Order cannot tolerate apostates. I will try my best to find him before any of the others do, but I can't promise anything. If he doesn't come willingly...”
“I understand. Thank you, Ser Thrask.” The elven woman looked down and closed her eyes. A few tears escaped from the corners and rolled down her face. Ser Thrask gave her shoulder a squeeze as he stared at her with sympathy before making his way out of the alienage. Jordan made sure he was completely gone before making her own way to the elven woman.
“Excuse me,” she said. “But I couldn't help but to overhear part of your conversation with that templar. Does that mean your son's an apostate?”
The woman looked up from the ground and stared at Jordan peculiar. It was as Jordan got closer that she realized the woman had tattoos on her face. Dalish tattoos. “Who are you?” she asked cautiously. “And why do you want to know about my son?”
“I'm not here to cause trouble,” said Jordan. “I just overheard and decided that I wanted to help. I know where you're coming from.”
“You do?” Jordan nodded before staring over at Bethany. The woman then seemed to understand. “You do, but I'm not sure you can help me.”
“Explain to us the situation. There might be something we can do.”
“Yes, of course.” She wiped away some of the tears off her face. “My name is Arianni, and my son is Feynriel. He's all I have. My only family in this world. When I learned he had magic, I could not bear to send him to the Circle. But his connection to the Fade... it gives him nightmares, dreams of demons speaking in his mind. They started out innocently at first, but then they started getting worse and worse. I began to fear for him. I knew there was nothing I could do, so I made a choice. If he can get help at the Circle, then I'd rather lose him to the Gallows than to himself.”
“What kind of dreams is he having?” Bethany asked.
“Demons. They call to him, and try to pull him into their world. Everyday it grows harder to wake him. It's why I turned to the Circle. I wanted to help him, not try and drive him away.”
“So is that why he ran away? Because you went to the Circle for help?”
“Yes,” Arianni sighed. “He felt I... betrayed his trust. He thinks he can live free of the Circle, but I'm afraid without proper training, he'll kill himself.”
It was a possibility. Just like with trying to use a sword or bow, training was needed to not only learn how to use them, but to keep from killing yourself with it. Magic was just the same. “That would be a problem now, wouldn't it?” said Jordan. “Abominations aren't all that great to have at family reunions.”
“No!” Arianni said shaking her head. “Please, you must find him before anything like that can happen. I... I'm not sure where you might start looking for him, but... there might be one person you could talk to.”
“Who?”
“His father.”
“And who's his father?” Jordan asked slowly.
“He's a human merchant here in the Lowtown market.” Arianni looked off past Jordan. “I'm sure you've noticed I'm Dalish. Long ago I left my clan and came here to Kirkwall. I dallied with a human named Vincento. When I found I was with child, neither he nor my clan wished the burden of an elf-blooded human infant. It's why I raised him by myself, and why I didn't wish to give him up to the Circle.” Arianni closed her eyes again, and looked to be struggling with fresh tears.
“Does Vincento know about Feynriel?” Jordan asked after some time, giving Arianni a moment. “Does Feynriel know about his father?”
“They both know about each other, yes. I would write to Vincento and go visit him every time he returned from Antiva, but never did he write back. And he would always turn me away, threatening to call the guard if I didn't leave him alone. Eventually I did, but that didn't stop Feynriel from observing his father from a distance. If they ever talked, I'm not sure, but I believe Feynriel may have gone to him after finding out that I went to the Circle.”
“Why would he run to his father? That bastard abandoned him!”
“I know, but Feynriel had hopes that one day we would all be a family. He told me that one day, when he became a man, he would go to Vincento and introduce himself. Maybe then Vincento would finally accept him.”
“You know what,” Jordan said as she looked toward the alienage exit. “I think I'm going to go and talk to this Vincento right now. He is in the market right now, isn't he?”
“He is here, yes.”
“Then we will help you. I'll go talk to Vincento and try and find out where your son went. We'll bring him home, and won't leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary.”
“Magic can be a fearful gift,” Bethany added. “Your son deserves the best aid in learning how to manage it.”
“Thank you,” Arianni bowed. “It has been a lonely time hiding. It's almost a relief to finally confront this openly.”
“It will be our pleasure.” Jordan bowed to her in the formal Ferelden greeting, crossing her arms across her chest and leaning forward. She then lead the others out of the alienage and started heading toward the Lowtown market.
“Are we really going to send Feynriel to the Circle?” Merrill asked. “That doesn't sound right. Why should we send him there?”
“We're not sending him to the Circle,” said Jordan. “We're just getting him back for his mother. If they decide to send him there afterwards, then I guess that's what will happen.”
“Maybe it's best if he did go to the Circle,” Bethany whispered. Jordan had to stop and look at her, wondering why she said that.
“What do you mean, Bethie? He doesn't need the Circle.”
“But what if it's the only training he can get? He's having nightmares, Jordan. That's never a good thing to hear about a mage. I had Father to train me, and Merrill had Keeper Marethari. Feynriel has no body. He's a danger. To others, as well as to himself.”
As much as Jordan didn't want to admit it, she knew her sister was right. The Circle was probably the best place for Feynriel, especially if demons were already interested in him. She only hoped Anders had been there to maybe argue with her. “In any case, let's just find Vincento and start from there. In the end, it's really Feynriel's choice when it comes down to it. Who knows, maybe by the time we find him we may also find another option.”
They made their way through the market, examining merchants and pretending to be looking through their goods as they searched for Vincento. Jordan didn't really know who he was, but if he was Antivan, then she hoped she may be able to find him by listening for his accent. Maybe even by the things he was selling. When she came to a bazaar that was selling Antivan jewelry, and with a man running it who had a twinkle in his eye the moment he saw her, she knew it had to be him.
“Greetings, my lady,” he bowed, acting chivalrous. “You look like a woman who'd appreciate the finest rubies from Antiva gracing her lovely neck. I sell only the best. Perhaps this wonderful ruby and emerald necklace?” He held up a necklace with a thin gold chain. Dangling from it was a pendent in the shape of a downward pointing sword with rubies going down and two emeralds on either side. Jordan raised an eyebrow as she stared at it. It was a pretty necklace, but she never thought of herself as a woman who enjoyed such things. That was the reason why people got mugged. There was also the reason that she didn't think herself worthy of something so beautiful.
“Uh, no thanks...”
“Not into rubies?” He put the necklace down and picked up another one. “What about diamonds or sapphires? I know. I have a very nice set of earrings with citrine gemstones that would match your lovely eyes.”
“No, no, I'm not here looking for jewelry,” Jordan said, cutting him short before he could try and show her anything else. “I'm actually looking for someone. He's a merchant by the name of Vincento.”
“Then you have found him, señorita,” he bowed to her. “I am Vincento. Is there something I can do for you?”
“I hope you can. I'm wanting to know where your son is.”
Vincento half smiled at her. “I'm not exactly sure what you are talking about. Perhaps you have the wrong man. I have no children.”
“No, I think you are, and I have good reason to believe that your son came to you looking for help. You see, he ran away, and his mother is very worried about him. She sent me to search for him and bring him back home.”
“Señorita, I fear you have the wrong man...”
“Stop your lying,” said Isabela. She and the others had joined Jordan only moments before. “I can tell you're trying to hide the truth from us.”
Vincento stared at all four of them, his demeanor starting to become more sour. “And why should I tell you anything? Say I did have a son... what could I possibly do for him?”
“You probably have resources,” said Jordan. “I can tell you're a good man and that you didn't mean to neglect your son all those years. So when Feynriel did come to you, asking for your help, you decided to be a good father for once and help him. Now... where did you send him?”
Vincento eyed Jordan suspiciously, trying to read her. “Again, why should I tell you anything, señorita? This city is full of people hard to trust.”
“That is true. Bethany?” She turned to her sister. “Perhaps you could put his mind to ease?”
“If I must.” Bethany held up her right hand. A flash of purple mist formed around it, making Vincento jump back a little. “We are no templars, serah,” she said, dispersing of the mist and placing her hand back at her side. “You'll find no better friend to a young, scared mage.”
“Maldición! You're a mage!” Vincento cried softly. “I suppose you'd be kind, then, to a boy who resists being taken in by the templars?”
“Of course.”
“Then... maybe it is best.” Vincento looked around the market before getting closer to Jordan and whispering in her ear. “Feynriel is in over his head. He did come to me, yes, and wanting to make up for being neglectful, I sent him to the only man I know who doesn't despise mages. A former templar named Samson.”
“A templar?” Jordan whispered. “But... why would a templar help apostate mages?”
“He served the templars too long, and his conscience plagues him,” Vincento explained. “He left the Order and now helps mages on the run. He stays out of sight during the day, but at night, you can find him just at the entrance to Darktown on the other side of Lowtown. There is where he conducts his business.”
“Right. Thank you,” Jordan nodded.
“Please,” Vincento said as he backed away from Jordan. “I don't know if sending him to Samson was the correct thing to do. If you can, find him and send him back to his mother. Feynriel will not be able to survive out on his own.”
“That is exactly what we intend to do.”
Vincento smiled at her again, this time more fully. “Are you sure you're not interested in some jewels? Those citrine earrings would really bring out your eyes.”
“Thanks, but I'm good. My eyes already drive one man crazy enough. And thank you for the information. We'll keep it discreet.” She then lead them away from Vincento's bazaar as he went back to taking care of business as over potential buyers came forward to look at his goods.
“Don't tell me you're thinking of trying to find this Samson tonight, are you?” Bethany asked, worried.
“It would be best if we did,” said Jordan. “The faster we can find Feynriel, the better. Do you think Arianni wants to wait very long for her son to come home? That could be our mother.”
“Most nights it is.”
“Yes, but at least Mother doesn't have to worry about her children becoming abominations. And don't look at me like that, Bethie. You know you're strong enough to resist a demon if one ever attacked you.”
Bethany looked away from her, not seeming to believe what her sister was saying. She didn't say anything more, though.
“So what are we doing again?” Merrill asked.
“First, we're going to go and collect the rest of our party,” said Jordan. “Then we'll head to Hightown and execute our plan. Isabela, are you ready for this?”
“Jordan, with you, of course I'm ready,” Isabela smiled sheepishly.
“Perfect. Now we just need to get the others.”
***
“Eh? What do you want?” The man standing behind the door peered out, staring at the dark-haired beauty with light brown eyes in her skimpy white outfit on the other side. She smiled sweetly at him, her smile seductive.
“I'm here to see Mervus,” she said. “He asked for me personally and you know I would never turn him down.”
The man opened the door a little more so he could get a better look at her. He studied her up and down. “I never got word that Mervus called for someone.”
“It was short notice,” she said batting her eyelashes. “Apparently Mervus has a craving that only I can sate.”
This made the man laugh. “He does have interesting... tastes. Where are you from?”
“The Blooming Rose, of course.”
“How come I've never seen you there before? I think I would have remembered such a fine looking woman, such as yourself.”
She smiled sweetly at him again. “I'm special order. Only those in good standing with Madame Lusine have access to me. Normally, I don't make house calls, as Madame Lusine would hate to lose me, but when Mervus calls... who could say no?”
“I guess you're right about that. So... what's your name, beautiful?”
“Wouldn't you like to know.”
“I would very much like to know. I make it a point to get to know beautiful woman.”
“Flatterer,” she waved. “You do know I belong to Mervus only.”
“I know, and he can have you first. I'm used to seconds. Our boss is very generous, and loves sharing.”
“Sharing others, maybe, but I'm--”
“Bitch!”
The brown-eyed woman scolded as she turned to glare at the newcomer. Another woman, a little more messy, with lighter brown hair and eyes yellow like the sun. The man determined he didn't like her nearly as much. Her clothing and appearance suggested she was probably a street walker instead of one of the more pampered beauties one would find at the brothel.
“Excuse me?” said the brown-eyed woman. “Shouldn't you be directing that at yourself?”
The yellow-eyed one grimaced, making her appearance even less appealing. “You dare say that to me when you're here trying to steal my client?”
“Yours?” the brown-eyed one laughed. “Do you honestly think Mervus would want you when he could have me? I have everything a man like him could ever want, while you, sweet thing, have... barely anything.” She looked the second woman up and down, finally turning back to the man and smiling. “She thinks she's top class, but you can see she's nothing when compared to me.”
“Yes... I would have to agree,” the man nodded.
“No! That's it!” the second woman growled. “I am not taking you stealing my clients anymore! They enjoy me perfectly well before you come along and spout your lies.”
“They aren't lies. I just tell them what they need to know before you surprise them.” She looked back at the man. “She used to be man.”
“Really?” He stared at the yellow-eyed woman, a little more disgusted now. “Well that might explain a few things.”
“You lying bitch!” she yelled, her eyes turning into daggers as she glared at the more beautiful woman standing beside the man. “I don't have to take this anymore.”
“Oh, and what are you going to do about it?”
“What I should've done a long time ago.” The yellow-eyed woman grabbed two daggers that had been hidden behind her back and raced forward. To answer her, the brown-eyed one grabbed a second set of twin daggers from within her knee-high boots and went straight for the second woman. The man was taken aback by their sudden display of weapons, but was then drawn in when the two women collided in the courtyard.
The first one struck out first, her right hand sweeping low to stick the dagger it held in the second woman's side. She, however, blocked the strike and with quick movements brought her right-handed dagger across the first woman's chest. She missed, the brown-eyed woman leaning backwards, flipping over and nearly kicking the yellow-eyed woman in the throat. They collided again, their daggers striking, feet moving with fast steps that almost made them a blur in the courtyard. The man shouted back in the mansion for his companions to come forward and to see the spectacular sight he was witnessing.
Two woman, fighting dagger to dagger, almost equal in speed and skill, and doing so over a pot-bellied man, bald and short. He didn't like thinking bad about his boss, but he had to wonder what it was he did in the bedroom to get so many women fighting for him.
The yellow-eyed woman seemed to have the other one pinned, sending her right-handed dagger down but only striking stone as the brown-eyed woman moved out of the way by rolling. She then popped up and sliced one of her daggers across the others side, splitting the fabric of her jerkin.
“I think you need to show a little more skin,” she mused, backing away as the second woman gawked at the tare in her clothing. “Maybe if you weren't such a prude, then men might want to stay with you longer.”
“I do plenty for them,” the yellow-eyed woman growled. “Maybe instead of teasing them with what little you wear, you should just go around the city in nothing!” She attacked, their daggers striking a few times before the second woman finally hit her mark. A dagger with a serrated tip went down, right between the first woman's breasts. It ripped the fabric of her white tunic, and the man along with his fellows, became wide-eyed as her breasts spilled out, although the fabric still covered most parts.
“Excuse you, but this is my favorite outfit!” she yelled.
“No, you're favorite outfit is nothing,” the yellowed-eyed woman smiled. “Let's see if I can get you to wear that.”
The first woman growled and sprinted forward. Again they collided, dancing together in an inciting tango that had each woman grunting, sweating, cursing, and every so often, new fabric ripped to show more flesh. The yellow-eyed woman had lost her jerkin, now only wearing a tight, ripped to pieces undershirt that was starting to become smaller and smaller. The brown-eyed woman was losing even more, as her outfit was already small. Pieces of fabric flapped about, showing off her bronzed skin. Thin stripes of thread were the only things keeping things in place and from showing fully. Many of the men wished they would break, and wondered how much more they could take before they would.
The brown-eyed woman blocked a blow before striking and catching the yellow-eyed woman off guard. She did the same thing, bringing her dagger down, right in between the second woman's smaller breasts and completely ripping off her shirt. Her entire torso was exposed now, the only thing keeping her modest was the breastband wrapped around her chest.
“That's better,” the first woman smiled.
“You're going to pay for that,” the second woman glared.
“Please... make me.”
The second woman smiled wickedly before beginning their dance again. She struck, sweeping low, being blocked, then spinning and rounding, sweeping high. The first woman blocked each strike, turning herself and swept low when the second woman spun again. She caught her dagger on the second woman's foot, tripping her and sending her right to her back.
“Perfect position for you,” the brown-eyed woman laughed. “Subordinate. And now I think I'll finish you off for good.” She had backed away a couple of steps, then grasping her daggers, ran right at the second woman.
“I don't think so!” the yellow-eyed woman shouted. Just as the brown-eyed woman was about to jam her daggers into the second woman's chest, she lifted her legs and planted them right in the first woman's abdomen. The first woman went hurtling, flying over the second and landed hard. She rolled on the ground a few times, finally stopping a few feet away on her stomach.
“Oh, you... bitch...” she moaned.
Pushing herself to her feet, the yellow-eyed woman made her way over to the brown-eyed one and yanked her head up by her hair. “You are finished,” she said. “Enjoy trying to seduce the Maker.” She then took her dagger and ran it across the first woman's throat. Once she laid still, the yellow-eyed woman stood fully straight and stared over at the crowd of men who had gathered from the mansion to watch the two women fight. “Did you enjoy that?”
“Bravo,” clapped a short, balding man who was anything but handsome. “That was most entertaining, my dear.”
“Mervus,” she bowed to him.
“You know, it's funny,” he chuckled. “You know my name, but I'm afraid I don't know yours. Too many women I've entertained over the years. Course, after that display, I'm willing to get to know you better.”
“Are you sure you are?”
“Oh, I'm sure.” He gave her a provocative grin. “Tell me, my lovely, what is your name and how is it that you came to me?”
“My name,” she smiled. “Is Jordan Hawke, and I come on regards of Sebastian Vael.”
Hearing this, Mervus lost all his gleam. He became pale and the men behind him all became deathly quiet. “What?”
“Got your attention, didn't we?” She moved fast, tossing one of her daggers and landing it in Mervus's chest. He screamed and fell, his men shouting and beginning to advance on Jordan. “Now!” she shouted. Instantly all the men stopped, frozen in place as fear began to form on their faces.
From around the corner, three mages appeared, all of them with their hands raised, magic pulsing as they held the paralysis spell that kept the men from moving. Along with them also came a dwarf, who's crossbow was aimed and loaded. A red-headed woman stalked behind them, making her way toward Jordan who was walking casually to the frozen group.
“Are you and Isabela done playing around?” she asked.
“What? You didn't enjoy it?” said Jordan. “That was actually quite fun.”
“I'm sure.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oh, Aveline, lighten up.” It came from the brown-eyed woman on the ground as she pushed herself to her feet.
“Did you like playing dead?” Aveline smirked. “You actually looked good that way. I only wish that it was you and I dueling.”
“You're such a tease, Aveline,” Isabela smiled. “Maybe next time I'll let you put me on the ground.”
“Hey, are you guys going to actually do something about them?” Bethany asked, strained. “We can't hold them forever.”
“Right, sorry, Bethie,” Jordan said as she retrieved her dagger from Mervus. She then went to the closest mercenary and slit his throat. He fell immediately to the ground. “Okay, Isabela, Aveline, Varric, spread out and take care of these guys before Bethany, Merrill, and Anders are unable to hold them anymore.”
“I don't like killing men like this,” Aveline objected.
“I know, but do you see how many there are? This is much simpler, and besides, I'm really tired. Isabela wiped me out.”
“I'd have to say the same,” said Isabela as she cut the throat of another mercenary. “I don't think I've had a duel that invigorating in years.”
“You two were very entertaining,” said Varric. “I don't think I'll have to add anything when I tell this to my listeners at the Hanged Man.”
“What, you're not going to add that we became completely naked and started rolling in mud?” said Jordan.
“Now, Hawke, you know there has to be some modesty. Besides, I'm sure by the time the story gets around Kirkwall, it'll end up that way.”
They went about the group, killing the mercenaries as they stood paralyzed. It really wasn't a preferred way for Jordan to kill her enemies, but not knowing how many there were, and after her duel with Isabela, it was the safest way. When they were done, the mages relaxed and Jordan and the others went about searching through their pockets for coins or anything else valuable. She found within Mervus's pockets the letter that hired Flint Company to kill the Vael family. There was no clear indication on who hired them that Jordan could see, however.
As she stared at the letter, she noticed something in the corner of her eye. When she looked over, Anders quickly averted his gaze and pretended as if he were still looking through one of the mercenary's pockets. Jordan smiled as she realized she was still half naked.
“You know, it's actually kind of chilly out here,” she said, shivering slightly. “Does anyone have an extra shirt I could wear? I would prefer not to go through Kirkwall in nothing but my breastband.”
“Jordan, you look fine,” said Isabela. “Besides, what I said was true. You do need to show more skin.”
“Maybe, but not this much.”
“Here, take my coat,” said Anders as he took off his leather robe with the feather pommel. He placed it around her shoulders.
“Thanks,” Jordan said, smiling at him as she wrapped his coat around herself. She noticed color flush his checks.
“You're welcome,” he smiled back.
“What about me?” Isabela asked. “Do you have an extra coat for me, maybe?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Ah, well. I don't really mind walking around like this.”
“Yeah, but I do,” said Aveline. “You are indecent, and need to cover up, Isabela.”
“And do tell me what it is I'm suppose to cover up with, O'mighty Captain of the Guard.”
“Take off one of these men's shirts.” Aveline pointed to one of them that had the least blood.
Isabela sighed, not liking the thought but she stripped the man anyway and placed on his shirt. It was too big and stank, but it would do for now. “I don't know about you, Jordan, but I'm heading back to the Hanged Man to change. I don't think I'll be able to take wearing this thing for very long.”
“Go ahead, Isabela,” said Jordan. “As for anyone else who wishes to continue, I'm going to the chantry to find Sebastian Vael, give him this letter, and let him know that he doesn't have to fear Flint Company anymore. His family has been avenged.”
***
“Sebastian Vael, I presume?”
Sebastian looked up from the altar he was kneeling before to see a woman standing over him. She had a strange leather coat on, brown hair all messy, plastered to her face as if she had been working hard recently. He smiled at her and stood, bowing slightly. “That is me, my lady. Are you in need of my assistance?”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “I have actually come here to tell you that you no longer need to fear Flint Company. Your family has been avenged. Uh... I'm not going to get smited for that, am I?”
“Excuse me, but...” He stared at her confused, just at the moment noticing the group behind her. A man, two women, and a dwarf. He found it odd, but was then brought back when he stared in the woman's yellow eyes. “You mean the post I placed on the Chanters' Board? Did Her Grace let that stay? I thought for sure she would have it taken down. After I returned from storming away from her... it was gone.”
“I took it,” she explained. “My sister here and I witnessed your little scene with the grand cleric. After you walked away, we then went to investigate. The grand cleric allowed us to take the post, although she was hesitant.”
“She should've been,” Sebastian said, lowing his head. “She probably shouldn't have let you take it. I was being too rash that day. Not thinking clearly. Not letting the Maker guide me. In doing so, I broke my vows to the Chantry. I am here now, trying to repent for my sins.”
“Well, I think it was best that we did take it. Before going after them, we found out they were planning on killing you. They knew where you were, and it didn't matter if you were a brother in the Chantry or not. As long as you were alive, you were a threat to any who might want to take the throne in Starkhaven.” She handed him a letter, one that Sebastian took and read.
“This... I can't believe it,” he sighed. “Thank you. I... I know it was basically murder that I sent you to do, but I guess I owe you my life. Please, tell me your name, and I will add you to tomorrow's blessing.”
“It's Hawke. Jordan Hawke.”
“Serah Hawke, I will remember it.” He bowed to her. “And what about your companions? I shall add their names as well, if they wish.”
“You can add mine,” said a pretty, brown-eyed, raven-haired woman who timidly placed herself next to Jordan. “The name's Bethany Hawke.”
“Bethany. That's a very beautiful name.” He took her hand and kissed it, sending a faint flush of red to her checks.
“If the others don't mind,” Jordan said as she turned to her companions, seeing none of them seemed to reject. “This here is Aveline, Anders, and Varric.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you all.” He bowed to all of them.
“So...” said Jordan. “You're a prince?”
“Ah, yes I am,” Sebastian sighed. “Sebastian Vael, prince of Starkhaven. Her Grace might prefer I introduce myself as a brother in the Chantry. But after what happened to my family... I don't know about that anymore.”
“Are you saying you might be going back to reclaim the throne?”
“I don't know. In a way, it's my duty as the last of the Vael line, but I also made a vow to the Maker and the Chantry. I might have already broken some vows, but I would prefer to not break anymore. It is a decision that I must think carefully on, and ask the Maker for guidance.”
“If it helps with your decision, I hope you stay,” said Bethany.
Sebastian smiled at her, making her checks grow even more red. “That is kind of you, my dear. But I fear that your beautiful face alone won't be enough to influence me to stay. It is the Maker and his bride, Andraste, who shall influence me the most.”
“Right, you go ahead and do that,” Jordan snorted. “Is there anything you might be able to... pay us with for doing the Maker's work?”
“Oh, yes, I suppose you did take that post from the Chanters' Board, didn't you?” Sebastian reached into his pouch about his waist and pulled out two gold coins and handed them to her. She didn't look very pleased. “I know it's not much, as I'm sure you risked your lives, but unfortunately that's all I can give you. Unless you wished a blessing? Which I could preform now.”
Jordan went to say something, but was interrupted by her sister. “A blessing by you would be enough.”
“Then I shall give you one.” Sebastian raised his right hand over they heads and began chanting. “Dearly Beloved, blessed are those who seek to do Your will. Bless them, who have protected Your children with their lives, and who seek to right which was wronged. In the name of the Maker, I bless thee.”
“Thank you,” Bethany bowed.
“Yes, thank you,” said Jordan. “And good luck to you.”
“To you as well, Serah Hawke. Hopefully I shall see you in here more. You seem like a woman who may need a little contemplation herself.”
“I think I'm good,” she said with a tad of hostility.
“As you wish. Just know that these doors are always open, and are always welcoming.”

Paraphrasing from Dragon Age 2
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Blood Promise