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Iron Chains	By : miladygrimm Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 13616 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own BioWare, Dragon Age, or EA; nor do I own any of its characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this fanfiction.

Chapter List
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The table stretched before her, a large map focused on Ferelden and Orlais took up most of the space. A few forgotten mugs of gone-warm ale sat precariously on the edges. The light of Josephine's message board flickered jovially across the grim expression of the innermost circle.
“Have the Scouts reported in?” Cullen questioned raking a hand through his short blond hair. He braced his hands on the edge of the table leaning over the worn map as if he could change it by power of hope alone.
Leilianna picked up her mug and brought it to her lips. “I received a bird earlier today.” she told him, “They tell me that the Hinterlands is back to normal...aside from the dragon, of course.”
Cullen smirked glancing up at the dark haired Qunari woman, “Well, when the Herald is ready to take down one of the ancient dragons she's more than welcome to shock him into submission.”
Lexarra didn't respond. She heard the words, but they didn't sink in. Her magic-lightening eyes were focused instead on the border between Orlais and Ferelden. There was a tickle in her mind. As if she should know...or understand...something that was just beyond her perception. Absently she tapped a single finger to her lower lip. Memories of a future that had not occurred.
She couldn't get the past out of her mind. Varrics face as he'd sat in a cell. Leilianna driven entirely by her rage as she sliced the throat of Felix the innocent.
Csandra plowed forward, “Siding with the mages may not have been our most advisable decision. We cannot be sure where their true allegiances lie.”
Leilianna set her mug back down, “Well we could hardly side with the Templars after they literally struck down one of the sisters in the center of Val Royeaux. We have enough problems with the Chantry right now as it is.”
The silver spark of a blade across the tan neck of a pretty young Tevinter boy.
“That is very true,” Josephine added in as she flipped through her missives. “While there are plenty of nobles who frown on us offering the mages a home here at Haven, many are pleased that we are not a new Templar headquarters.”
“Honestly, do we have to keep using the word 'templar' like it's dirty? There are plenty of us here.”
“Forgive me, Cullen, but you must realize that the public opinion of the Templars deteriorates daily. Surprisingly enough no one likes to see an old woman hit in the face.” Josephine plucked a singular missive from the stack on her carry-board. “From Ser Viktor Beauchamps: It is with my greatest sympathies that I cannot yet vocalize how pleased I am with the Inquisitions position in these matters, Orlais has other problems that need to be dealt with, perhaps you have forgotten about our current civil war?”
The mark on Lexara's hand tingled as she finally brought herself out of her reverie.
Cassandra snorted and slapped at the table, “Must we fix the problems of everyone in order to be taken seriously?”
“It's a start.”
“Andraste save me from Bards.” Cassandra spat. “and Spymasters.”
“I can, of course see about getting a foothold in Orlais, we could start by winning over the nobility and the gentry by participating in their Peace talks.” Josephine scribbled notes on parchment and then reached absently for her own mug. She glanced into the cup and frowned, not particularly interested in the lukewarm contents.
“They will want the Herald there, Josephine, not you.”
Josephine shrugged, “The Herald will have to do something aside from slay bandits and Tevinters at some point. Dressing her up and taking her out...”
“She is right here.” Lexara finally said.
“Oh, so you planned on taking part in this conversation?”
“Don't be offended, Jo. I have a few things on my mind,” she sighed. “If that means you have to dress up the Qunari girl and teach me how to place nice with nobility...so fucking be it.”
“Well,” Josephine nodded, “Let's begin then.”
~*~
Lexara did her best not to slam the chantry door as she sought out the food tent. She needed to sink her teeth into something. She had spent the past two hours going over names, faces, and affiliations of the Orlesian nobility. It was the biggest pile of nonsense that she had ever heard. People who had married to other people for the sake of that land or that chevalier force.
She was never going to get this right.
Therren the Quartermaster was overseeing the distribution of that nights stew. The old soldier woman's frown lines had deepened during the course of their months at Haven. At the moment Lexara couldn't blame her...but at least Therren hadn't had to listen to that load of Orlesian shit.
“Herald.”
Right now she wished that anyone else had a damned green mark on her hand. She didn't feel like being the Herald of Andraste. She wanted to just be Lex. If she had time magic at her disposal the way that Tevinter Zealot had she would go back in time and send anyone else that that damned Conclave.
Lex shoved a bowl at the server and said nothing, knowing absolutely nothing kind would come out of her mouth. And the Herald of Andraste had to be a symbol....Cassandra wouldn't stop telling her that. The Herald was more.
“Well someone's in a snit.”
“What do you want, Dorian?” Lexara snapped.
“Well, now. I had hoped to get my own supper but maybe I am better off hunting it down. Less teeth on a bear.” The Tevinter mage handed his own bowl to the server and looked over the Qunari female. She was an intimidating woman when she was flinging jokes. In a full fit of frustration she was terrifying enough that half of the eating tent had cleared out.
He watched her reign herself back in. It was a fascinating thing to watch. In Tevinter her had had the privilege to see her kind in full blown battle rage. There were few things as beautifully terrifying. A volcano perhaps? Still, whatever it was that had gotten her small clothes in a knot she was working it back into place.
“Come on, then.” he said taking both bowls from the server and moving off to one of the far tables. “Let's eat and you can tell me why you were ready to pop.”
Lexara could have said no. She should have taken her food and headed back inside to go over the patents of nobility again. But the smell of food and the memory of that massive tome was enough to have her following the mage.
“I have to go to a party,” Lexara said as she poked part of her bread loaf into the thin stew.
Dorian choked on a bit of the ram-meat. “Par-pardon?”
Lexara glared into his amused gaze. “It's not funny.”
“Oh it most definitely is. I have seen you face down dragonlings and futuristic mages and Lady knows what else and you are brought down by silks and music?”
She kept her gaze carefully on her plate. “When you say it like that...”
“It's hilarious.” he shook his head and shoveled another mouthful in, chewing thoughtfully. “Qunari don't have many balls then?”
“I wouldn't know. I'm not Qunari.”
He eyed the curling horns around her angular face. “You could have fooled me.”
“I'm sorry, were you trying to be funny?” she stirred the broth in front of her. “I can never tell.”
“Ahhh, now we are getting there.”
“I don't know anything about being Qunari. If I did I could show up topless and wild and they would at least be amused by my barbaric ways in their pretty little court. I could be some damned pet Qunari bitch and they would titter behind their pretty damn fans at me.”
“But you aren't Qunari.”
“I am Tal-Vashoth. My parents left the Qun when my mother discovered her pregnancy with me...it was...it was not mandated by the Qun.”
A shadow fell across the side of the tent. Before the tent flap even opened she knew who it was, There was only one person in all of Haven that was taller than her.
“I don't follow,” Dorian knitted his brow, “Mandated?”
In walked Bull, a smile on his damned face. He had left the armor somewhere...which meant his chest was completely bare. All he wore were those ugly stripped pants and his sturdy mercenary issue boots. In the flickering firelight of the dinner he looked like some fine hand had carved him out of a misty amethyst stone. Just the image of him sauntering about without a care in the world had her shifting in her seat.
“The Qun are bred to be strong. Their leaders pick people they think will produce the best offspring to...well create offspring. My parents...they...”
“They didn't get permission?”
“They broke the rules,” She shoved her bread back in her soup and crossed her arms, suddenly lacking in appetite.
“Alright what has got your...” he glanced about until he saw where her gaze was lingering. “Ohhh, I see.”
Lexara turned her gaze back to Dorian, “No you don't.”
“Ohhh I think I do,” he ate another hearty mouthful. “You aren't Qun, and that's a problem. Today you got that rubbed in your face...and you'd really rather be rubbing your face elsewhere.”
“That was crude.”
“But true...” he nearly sang at her.
Lex sighed again and couldn't help but smirk, “Yeah....true. Ugh! What's wrong with me?”
Dorian glanced over his shoulder once again at the mercenary captain, “Absolutely nothing. That is a fine specimen of his species.”
“Yeah, so why isn't he paying attention?” Lexara growled.
Dorian snickered. “He told you from the beginning, he's Benn-Hassrath. He's not here to pop the cork. He's here to serve his people. He, unlike you my Dear Herald...is Qunari. A loud, drunken lout of a Qunari...but Qunari none the less.”
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Iron Chains