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A Match to Tinder	By : Anesor Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 4095 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age 2, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. Aldera is my character, as are a few new ones.

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The Less Reasonable the Cult, the More Violent Their Dragon

-- Haven, Chantry Hostel

Hawke:

I wasn't that happy to be facing a dragon without the help of either Fenris or Aveline. That last Varterral was different, we didn't know about it ahead of time. Nor was I familiar with the terrain. We'd fought so many dragons around the Bone Pit, I knew the terrain. This was new.

But then my attention was caught by seeing the skin around Anders' eyes start to crack and blue light shine through it like he was only a broken window.

I was afraid, afraid this could happen now, just when we were so close!

Jumping over to Anders, I gripped his shoulder and pulled him towards me. “Don't, just don't, damn you!”

Our eyes met, only inches apart, and they didn't have his warm brown for what seemed forever. But they slowly changed back and he sagged for a moment. I hugged him tightly, briefly, barely noticing that his staff had dropped to the stone floor.

Quietly he whispered to me, “I'm tired, Love. He never rests and I cannot dream anymore.”

I rubbed his back, mourning with him. “I'm here...” The words I wanted to say might be a lie and I choked. I didn't want to let him go, but I would if it would be better for him.

When I returned to paying attention to the people around us, Merrill was asking about the dragons and chattering about the ones we'd fought. I hadn't heard her mention Kirkwall or the Bone Pit, but my attention had not been on their talking.

Without the work of setting up a campsite, we had some time free to relax or read and more light to do so. I kept an eye on Anders when we spent time in a small library, which had some very old tomes that looked like they hadn't been read in ages. I read through a few of them and found a really old and worn Orlesian romance with fainting damsels and a brave younger son. Sebastian read from that fine prayer book his daughter gave him. Merrill found one that looked even older and was intently copying it. Anders was writing, which alarmed me after the last time, but he was thoughtful and revising what he wrote, not frantic.

None of us spoke much through the evening, it felt almost like a vigil. I was surprised that Sebastian didn't spend the evening in some chapel, but he seemed to be thinking or praying.

We had bunks in a colder area that was considered safe, though there were a few holes somewhere in the walls that hadn't been well patched. Once the few younger Sisters or Templars had settled into their bunks I slipped from mine and crowded with Anders into his.

Anders woke enough that he sighed and gathered me close so that we both balanced on his bunk; he slipped deeper into sleep again.

I stayed awake for a while, my worries about him increased by the heavy weight of knowing we would face a dragon tomorrow. Despite waiting for so many things, knowing when wasn't much better. Too much depended on getting past the dragon.

Had it been less than a year since we faced the last one in the Bone Pit? Thinking back, it was, but so much had happened since then. So much, that that battle had 'only' a dragon, as terrible as it was.

The Ashes loomed higher than this one too, but I had to help Anders get free from his craving for vengeance. Freedom was the important fight, and living free would be the best revenge.

I was woken earlier than I would have liked by some bells. Sebastian scrambled to attend a service and tried to convince me, at least, to go.

He seemed surprised at my foul mood when woken that early, but no posturing now would change the Maker's favor over our hopes. While he was gone, we packed and repacked our supplies. The Ashes were truly only a walk away, and we would not need all of our bulky camping and travel supplies. We would need our fighting gear, healing supplies, and a little food and water.

When the service was over, a communal breakfast was available. It was finer than we'd had, perhaps since we left Kirkwall, but I was anxious to go and filched some of the more portable rolls and dried fruit for later in the day.

Ser Ormonde came to lead us inward shortly after we finished eating. He seemed surprised when he saw us in our true armor. We could not afford to use our weaker armor against a dragon. My Champion set was much more obviously expensive, with bits of gold inlaid and smoothly part of the enchanted armor. He even looked wary at seeing Anders, who was back in his dark robes.

Anders was quiet and thinking when the Templar arrived, but mock saluted Ormonde when he noticed.

Sebastian looked almost embarrassed but didn't say anything.

Clutching a book, Merrill earnestly asked Ormonde, “May I have this book? It is very enlightening and I would like to study from it longer.”

Ormonde took it and frowned until he saw the binding. “I will have to check with Mother Erda while you are gone. We cannot afford to pay you for opening the path to her Ashes... but.”

Merrill looked happy at the promise of an old book and nearly bubbled her thanks.

While this was happening, Sebastian fumed a little at the reminded weight of who we were and the secrets he had to keep. Or maybe that his pure white armor was no longer the prettiest.

Maybe I was being petty.

Along with two other, younger Templars, Ormonde led us through a wide corridor that was made of recent construction like most of the hostel, but the passage was slightly dusty with disuse.

Looking at us again Ormonde gave me a large key. “Don't you need your blade against the dragon?”

I looked and him and forced a smile despite my growing tension. “My sword cuts down on thugs trying to intimidate. Now it's just dead weight. If we don't...” I stopped because I had no one I could leave it to. “Give it to the Wardens.” They didn't hunt mages and Bethany would never want it.

Paws was sniffing the air and growled quietly. I considered leaving him and Ser Mew here where it was safer, and even opened my mouth to say it but my mabari's gaze was so serious as he cast about for the scent. This wasn't Darkspawn, that Anders could warn us about before we saw them. He reached up to pet his kitten and I remembered his stories of Ser Pounce. I doubted a dragon was any more of a threat than hoards of Darkspawn. Maybe I just didn't have the willpower to leave Paws behind right now.

“Love...” Anders called me from my thoughts, looking serious.

Shaking it off, I noticed we were alone now; the Ser must have returned to the safer section. Forcing my hands to be steady, I unlocked the doors. Through a double door was a short hall that opened up into a vary large hall made of stone with the the brisk air of outdoors.

We stepped into the hall and I could see that it had either been only partly rebuilt since the blight or it had deteriorated since the dragon came. The windows were mostly broken and there was a large hole in the roof. My imagination told me that a dragon tried to land on it, but there was no evidence. There was a very large statue of Andraste in the hall looming over the pilgrims. There was more seating for services like in Lothering, but I doubted they'd need more than seating for a hundred pilgrims despite the large space. Cold air and even some snow flurries blew in through the hole, but the hall seemed disused rather than dangerous.

“Maker, thy gentle wind refreshes our hearts in every fiery trial and anguish, be our protection and shelter in time of need. Andraste be our help in affliction, our comfort in adversity...” Sebastian spoke quietly, but with more intensity than his usual prayers.

Maybe I wasn't the only one feeling strain.

Anders threw Vael a dirty look, but I was jittery too, and I had faced many more dragons. There were doors off to the side, ones that had plainly been nicer once. The one hallway and its rooms looked like they had been stripped, leaving only painted decorations and small statues aside from the usual furnishings. The other led to several rooms with fewer decorations and even a few damaged armor stands.

They had smaller images of Andraste and other kinds of shelves. Anders confirmed it. “Templar quarters.”

More was left behind, including a few chests that were still full, but I found myself unwilling to disturb them.

The last doors from the ruined Chantry were along the far wall from the entrance and were locked. The key I was given worked without any resistance, and I wondered how long they had abandoned this section. This area was much nicer, with even gilding and almost elegant seating. It felt like the entryway of some Hightown estate.

Checking the two side passageways was as quiet as the areas behind us. One side had what looked like very fine rooms at an inn. There were no personal possessions there and nothing valuable or small enough to tempt me to grab. The other side led directly into a ruined hallway and huge pieces of ice and rock that seemed to be in the process of destroying the hallway completely.

Further in was another statue of Andraste, wearing different clothing. Bare of anything but decoration, I paused to look back down at her from the balcony before leaving and wondered just how old that statue was while Sebastian said a quiet prayer to himself.

I looked at it for a moment before I realized two things. I coughed. “Something's not right here. There were a few cobwebs in the other rooms in protected nooks, but none on this statue, and worse...” I wanted them to see it first and pointed at the thin tracery in red on Andraste's cloak. At first glace, it might be assumed to be bird wings for her flying to the Maker or something, but this wasn't that.

“Cultists?” Anders sounded as doubtful as I felt.

“Anders, I had thought that your Warden had killed the cult during the Blight. I really can't see how they could confuse dragons and your prophet.” Merrill seemed like she was about to laugh.

“Blasphemy within the Chantry! She went to the Maker's side. She would not return as a monster.” Sebastian looked like he wanted to knock down the offending statue but wasn't sure if he should touch it.

Choking a laugh, Anders added, “We actually agree on something. Hawke, there must still be some cultists here in Haven. Attryne had told us that she knew of no survivors when they came through, but that they saw few out in Haven. There must have been survivors, now hiding among the Chantry and Templars.”

Sebastian added after a double-take, “The Templars must be informed so they can be rooted out.”

“At last, a duty the Templars should be doing,” Anders grinned.

“Gentlemen, you're missing that we don't know how long they've been here nor how long they might have been encouraging dragons to live here.” That was far more dangerous than the average cultist we'd fought. “Come on, Sebastian. We can tip this over and hope it breaks.” We'd have to speak to the Knight-Captain on the side when we left. I couldn't think of any way to separate cultists from most in the Chantry, and I wasn't convinced there was that much difference. Both could pretend to be friendly.

We rocked the statue of the cultists' Andraste until it finally fell over onto its face. The cloak with the more leathery feathers was more visible. An arm and some other bits broke off before a more serious break at the waist, it looked like the statue had been made in two pieces.

Once we were done, I called up to Anders and Merrill where they were on the balcony. “We're missing Varric or Isabela, they'd think of something extra rude right now. ”

That got me some chuckles and giggles. Then we returned to the door that went further inward into another small chamber, bare of any objects but for a few stone benches. The major decoration was painting after painting, covering the stone walls, all showing old, nightmarish scenes of Tevinter slavery and abuses. From what Fenris had said, it looked like little had changed despite the existence of the Black Divine.

Anders moved close and took my arm. I put mine around him. I didn't want mages to be the abusers either.

Sebastian glared at all of us again. “This is what free mages become when they have the power to enforce their whims on the rest of us.”

Tensing at the provocation, Anders demanded, “Non-mages abuse power too. How are Magisters different than how the elves, those not shoved in the Circle, are treated in the Alienages of most cities? So-called good Chantry nobles can abuse them in almost any way, even sell them into slavery during the Blight?”

Speaking for a change, Merrill wondered, “Have you spent much time in the Ehlvan neighborhoods, Sebastian? They cannot own their homes like humans do. They cannot become guild masters or nobles. They cannot even serve in the guard. All because their ancestors did not worship as you. When will the humans stop punishing them?”

I gripped Anders' hand. Merrill's argument was more one that might work on the prince.

“No, they should not be harmed like that. When have I ever approved of that? This is about how mages still abuse their power in Tevinter.” Sebastian rallied. “There will be nothing to prevent that without the Chantry and Templars.”

“This isn't Tevinter. We all agree what Tevinter sucks.” I tried to stay calm; attacking him physically would negate any oath he gave.

“Power corrupts! Magisters have no limits on their abuse of power, but for the Chantry! How many have they killed with their blood magic to increase their power? Hawke, didn't you find evidence that the streets of Kirkwall once flowed with the blood of their victims. Countless victims, like he left behind?”

Gripping my arm painfully, Anders returned, “When have I ever approved of Tevinter's abuses? We'd probably be safer there. Hawke would be praised for defeating the Qunari, and I... for what happened in Kirkwall and for being a mage. Note we went in the opposite direction.”

Sebastian sighed. “Yes, I had not expected that, and some of my agents went to Minrathous.”

“I want something better than Tevinter, someplace where mages are simply taught and expected to be responsible citizens. Some place where we can work and heal others or build soaring temples even, we should be able to build a home, marry, and have a family...” Anders caressed me briefly as he spoke.

With disapproval, Merrill added, “These are all the same things my People cannot have either, we find only ruins of times when we did not have to wander to keep what freedoms we have.”

“The Alienages are horrible,” Sebastian admitted reluctantly.

“Have you ever done anything to help if they are so terrible?” Merrill asked.

He flushed and didn't say anything.

“Enough,” I warned them. “Paws is smelling it more strongly now.”

They quieted and we moved forward, spaced apart slightly. There wasn't even a door this time, just another shrine to Andraste, with dozens or even hundreds of candles and tiny offerings, some coated in dust.

Two archways went right and left here and I chose the right one only to discover that these rooms continued the instructional scenes painted all over the walls. Once we went through the door the images in the first room had been gashed and damaged to the point where the walls had crumbled. I looked around to see if there had been enough structural damage to make this way dangerous.

Not quite, but Sebastian's gasp alerted me that I missed something. He was looking closely at the undamaged sections of the paintings. When I looked I saw it was a representation of the early days of the Chantry, with battles and martyrs. Hacking at this would not have been allowed. I slipped to the next room while the erstwhile Brother tried to identify the people who had once been honored. The next room was about the invitation to build in Orlais and the first Divine.

I had little fascination with the material, but the damage to the second room was worse, to the point of some rubble. Anders would approve of the damage and Sebastian would argue. When I returned to the others I said, “It's worse in the next room. They seemed to have been trying for structural damage.”

The other hallway turned as it told the story of Andraste's life. This area was clean and nearly dust-free. Moving forward, the hall way turned on itself several times before joining with the other hall again.

The smell of dragon was getting stronger and I forced myself to take a sip of water.

We passed though some kind of monument hall with identical statues in alcoves, and beyond a stone door was another room with only the shattered wooden fragments of furniture of some kind. There was no door into a more roughly hewn passageway, and the smell of dragon drifted towards us even more strongly.

“That, Sebastian, is what dragons smell like. If we... no, when we find them, you stay with Merrill and Anders. Their defensive magics will help you too, and you can watch for other threats to the three of you.” I missed Varric, at this point in the Dalish caves, he could be counted on to say something funny.

He looked down a little at me, and asked, “What about you, Hawke?”

Pulling my blades out, I grinned without feeling funny. “I do what I usually do now, keep their attention on me long enough for spells and arrows to kill them. I just have to move fast enough to not get hit too much. That's why I got the pretty Champion armor, isn't it?”

The contrast between my mostly black armor and his white armor might have been profound, but I wouldn't think about it.

Once we left that smaller room and the passage got rougher. The finished appearance of hallway and chamber disappeared. It wasn't ruined, it looked like it had never been there.

I wondered if the former Brother knew, and asked, “I can't remember any Chantry teaching on stone tunnel meaning, that they wouldn't finish and decorate the path to the Ashes. Do you?”

“Perhaps it might symbolize their coming out of slavery...” He sounded doubtful as the not very wide tunnel got narrower as it turned into what looked like a storage cave. The next tunnel and second cavern looked as unfinished. The third had a few humans beyond a pillar as well as a couple of smaller dragons.

Those we knew how to fight.

The dragons still had the softer hide and no experience with things that fought back. The enemy had only slightly more. The best thing was that they didn't have fire yet.

We took the wider passage in a hurry as I thought that would lead outside. What we found was a hatchery with eggs not far from a banked fire.

Merrill brightened up. “They are so beautiful I wish I could keep one, it would be ever so much more useful than a kitten or a dog. I could travel like Asha'bellanar with a friend like that.”

I think the rest of us were alarmed the same way at her trying to raise a dragon. “I don't think that's a good idea. She changed form instead, and if she couldn't domesticate one...”

“That is true, but it is a shame.” Merrill considered the damaged pens. “Anders, didn't the Wardens fly with griffins?”

His face going neutral as it usually did when the Wardens were mentioned, Anders said carefully. “I'm sure it took them many people and years for a project like that. And they died out between Blights. Weisshaupt might know more, but they don't share well.”

“So we must show them mercy, for this is not where they should live.” Sebastian was solemn.

It was ugly work, butchery only, but we destroyed the shells quickly. Let the cultists have to track down another source of eggs. These were now broken masses of goo and partly formed bodies.

The other passageway wasn't that wide, larger dragons could not get through. Eggs, people, livestock, and very small dragons only. The passage split, and we went straight ahead, where the smell was stronger, though Sebastian knelt long enough while examining the passages to say that both were in frequent use.

I ordered Paws to guard the cavern entrance as soon as we approached it. He wouldn't even be a bite, as much as he wanted to come. More importantly, he was slowing, with the inevitability of even the slow mabari aging. Anders also put Mew into the basket on Paws, they didn't have any magical protection from fire that our armor had.

This was a larger cave, with a large exit to a ledge outside and another dim tunnel. These dragons were larger, too big to go to that hatchery we'd just razed.

The cultist was in robes, Chantry robes. And I realized that she was that Sister Marjorie we'd met yesterday. She'd seemed normal to me at the time, but Sebastian got angry now.

“Foul traitor to Andraste and her Chant! You pervert her words and devotion to the Maker.” He seemed nearly as angry as he'd been in Kirkwall. His armor seemed very white in the dim light of the cavern.

Petting the large foreleg of the dragon next to her, the woman wasn't that calm either. “You seem to think She would abandon Thedas, become remote and forget her people as the Maker has. She was purified by the flame as the Chant says, she is given back of the flame too. Beloved, she is given a form that cannot be afraid of flame nor sword when she claims her power, we must find her and welcome her back.”

Sebastian sputtered on hearing this and started quoting something about Andraste's role as wife and beloved singer, but I was watching the dragons.

I was never quite sure if dragons, real dragons unlike that Flemeth we met, were intelligent at all or just cunning in the way of beasts. They were tough. These lifted their heads and seemed to look at us, still damp from breaking up the eggs.

Then one surged forward to attack, interrupting the shouted argument to snap at me where I stood in front of the mages. That snapped us into action, and I rolled aside shouting Vael's name.

He pulled up his bow, even as I heard spells from both Anders and Merrill. We hadn't moved far enough into the room that we could be surrounded, so only two of the three dragons could attack the mages at all, but I was out in the middle as was Sebastian this time.

The cultist was as much a fighter as most in the Chantry, but like that bitch Patrice she encouraged the dragons. I didn't think that they listened, but I was a little busy.

These dragons were still small enough that their long necks were flexible and fast. With all three trying to bite me, I could only thank the Maker they didn't seem to have flame yet.

Slowly, even with my jumping around like a grasshopper, they died. The largest, slowed by a heavy crust of ice from one of Anders' spells, I nearly decapitated with the longer Qun blade. The stump gushed blood as it collapsed.

I looked around in the new silence and took my first deep breath since we entered the cave. I was bloody, despite Anders' healing by then. I called Paws in when he barked and scratched his ears.

Wondering what happened to the cultist, I saw her body, with an arrow embedded deep in her skull, in a eerily similar way to how Patrice had died. I couldn't remember if Sebastian had been there that night for the parts in Lowtown, but if he hadn't, then he would have been in the Chantry and might have witnessed it from the higher balconies.

Anders came over to heal me, saying, “Do you think that's it? She could have been encouraging the entrance to be shut down as one of the good Sisters.”

Bloody for a change, Sebastian said, “I doubt it. The safety would have been the decision of the Knight-Captain and he would have been trained at a full Chantry, not here as they might have. The Templars are few here, and there were more Sisters and Brothers here to hide among.”

Tensing a moment, Anders busied himself with wiping the blood off me before giving me a kiss.

Looking in his clear brown eyes that showed some strain, I hugged him tight for a moment. “These seem a little decent for Templars, so far,” I whispered. “He has to have guessed that Merrill and probably you were mages, but didn't say anything.”

“I know that, Love. But I must fight about the rule of abuse, not the exception. That doesn't mean staying calm has been simple.”

A cough from Merrill, of all people, told us it was time to move. I checked around the room, and there wasn't much here, and nothing of any value beyond a few trinkets on Marjorie. Leaving her body here with her pets should be convincing to the Templar.

I was beginning to think that speaking to him could not wait until we finished with the Ashes.

A darker tunnel was opposite the ledge, and we carefully moved into it. In the next chamber were some very small dragons in large pens, feeding. Another pen had some frightened mountain goats.

Merrill was distressed and and tried to calm them, though we simply butchered the dragonettes. I wondered if we could get them out where they wouldn't be dinner for something in an idiot cult.

We backtracked and went down the one straight passage since we left the finished sections. A finished chamber looked like it had recently been a shrine, but had been remade into a small bunk room. No one was present, and there were a few small statues along the lines of Andraste being a dragon, a woman with dragon features or the other way around. It looked too like the legends of the dragon gods once worshiped in Tevinter.

I quickly went through chests and a single wardrobe, looking for anything valuable. There were a few items, but I wasn't sure if I wanted to sell them intact to possible cultists or just sell the expensive materials. I hurried, because the more open iconography made me leery and I wanted to leave.

The hallway became a rougher tunnel again, and I could see natural light coming from another cavern ahead.

Sebastian was still fuming, and muttered a bit too loudly. “Heretics and apostates within the Chantry. I'm surprised you aren't joining in to overthrow the Chantry, abomination.”

“Oh, yes. All mages secretly want to be eaten. I so look forward to being chomped into two pieces with all my guts spilling out. Being stabbed in the heart with a sword isn't exciting enough.” Anders laid the sarcasm very thick. “Becoming a slave before that honor makes it all better, now doesn't it?”

I wasn't that surprised when Merrill rubbed her forehead, I was getting a headache too. Looking around, this chamber was relatively bare, having several pens with a small herd of goats. A broad passage went outside and had a few remaining statues inset into the arch of the exit.

“You just want your 'freedom' from any kind of Rule and control. No one is free of some limitations, and mages have proven over and over in Tevinter and beyond, that they cannot be trusted without controls.” Vael's voice was rising.

Merrill pointed back at the passage we'd come through, and curved little horns with her fingers over her forehead. I waved her to go, Anders and Sebastian could probably argue for hours and I needed to make sure it stayed at arguing.

“The Chantry did not stop at laws and mere safety, they keep grinding down on mages and even their families and then act surprised when anyone tells them Enough!” Anders eyes narrowed. “Andraste worked to free other slaves, those that were not valued and abused, people that couldn't marry or own a home or even their own bodies and future. How is that much different than what is done to mages? Have you even read of the Chantry historian's book supposing that Andraste was a mage?”

“Blasphemy!” Vael waved it aside. “Magic should serve man, never rule...”

“I don't see the conflict there. I don't want to rule man! I just wanted to heal people and travel freely. What good is it to chain me up? Karl didn't even want that much, he was just a scholar and teacher and those bastards destroyed him for nothing!” By the end of this, Anders was just slightly beginning to glow.

I stepped over and put an arm around him. It took a minute, but he relaxed and put one around me.

Sebastian still glared at Anders.

“I think we can agree that these cultists are idiots and evil to raise dragons close to other people. That's what we're here for right now.” I rubbed my now throbbing headache, when it went away.

“Sorry, Hawke,” Anders said sheepishly.

Vael looked shamefaced, but didn't say anything.

“With the dragons dead, I think we need to quietly bring Ser Ormonde out here, without those like Sister Marjorie knowing...” I didn't want to be involved in internal Chantry politics. How did that happen?

Anders added, “The largest dragon the warden fought here was outdoors.”

Of course.

--- x ---

A/N: The chapter title was adapted from a quote by Rousseau.
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A Match to Tinder