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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight	By : Serena_Hawke-Theirin Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 13108 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Gabrielle stood at the garden gate that led to the tumble-down shack she and her family called home. As she examined the depressing landscape, she couldn’t help but shake her head. The house was in complete disrepair. There were bald spots in the thatching of the roof, places where her mother sat buckets beneath to catch falling rain during storms. The wood slats of the walls were rough and rotting with holes of varying sizes throughout, eaten away by time, weather, and the gnawing of hungry insects.

To the right of the hovel and further back, there stood an ancient dilapidated barn with half its roof missing on the loft side, apparently the victim of a fire. Gabrielle had only been inside the outbuilding once in the ten years she lived in Lothering, and that was enough. Even her father wouldn’t step a foot inside that barn when he was alive. The fact that it appeared as if it would cave in at any moment was only a small part of the reason no one ever entered that building.

The biggest problem Gabrielle’s family had with it was the feel of the place. Inside, the very air seemed alive with misery, rage, hate, and guilt. The vast number of empty bottles of alcohol littering the floor told the story of someone who continually tried to drown his troubles and failed miserably time and again. It was almost as if the place were haunted, but whether by wretchedness or ghosts, Gabrielle could not tell.

The house itself wasn’t much better in its ambience. Besides being rundown, there seemed to be a presence that lingered within, especially in Leandra’s room. Gabrielle’s mother had always been plagued by fits of melancholy, but after moving into that shack in Lothering, it only seemed to get worse. The apostate had been told tales of how the village drunk had murdered his wife in that home after their only son was taken by the templars, but she was never one to give in to rumors. Still, the place was unsettling, but at least the rent was cheap, and it was their home.

After finally unlatching the gate and giving it the slightest of pushes, it fell off its hinges and toppled to the ground. Gabrielle’s slight shoulders and chest rose and fell heavily with indignation. She was fed up. Fed up with her day. Fed up with her life. Fed up with how everything in the world just seemed to fall to pieces around her. She used Force magic to launch the gate several feet ahead of her before calling a fireball into her palm and hurling it at the broken fixture.

As she stomped her way down the path, Gabrielle muttered a continual string of curses under her breath. She was in one of the worst moods of her life. The remainder of her day hadn’t gone any better than her morning and early afternoon. When she arrived at Barlin’s, she did as her mother asked and requested more work for the day. Instead of giving her extra deliveries to make, the old man put her to the tasks of mucking the stable and oiling saddles. It wasn’t that she minded the work. She had done it before. What angered her was the fact that Barlin paid a boy at least seven years her junior twice as much as he did her for the same jobs. Then, when Gabrielle questioned the discrepancy, the old farmer told her that men just naturally worked harder at such jobs and deserved more coin.

She was ashamed of herself after the fact, but the apostate punched the old man in the nose and walked away from the only source of income she and her family had left. She shouldn’t have done it, and she normally would have just let it go, but after the earlier events of the day, she just couldn’t. The remainder of the afternoon and early evening, she spent at Raeanne’s old cottage, wishing her friend was still around to comfort her. Now that she was finally home, all she really wanted to do was to fall into bed for the evening and pray to the Maker she was blessed with dreamless sleep. Endeavoring to find a way to garner a source of income would just have to wait, at least one more day.

Unfortunately, the dulcet tones of her brother’s shouts and her mother’s sobs began echoing in Gabrielle’s ears before she was halfway down the path. By the time she actually reached the front door, she was ready to put a paralysis spell on both of them. It was always the same argument with those two lately. Carver wanted to join the army, and Mother refused to entertain the thought.

Not even bothering with using the handle, the apostate cast a Force Push spell on the door, breaking the jamb with a thundering crack in the process. When she tramped inside, the expressions on the faces of her family held both shock and fear. They stood there gaping at her for a long moment before Carver’s countenance turned to anger.

“What in the bloody void did you do that for?” he hollered.

Gabrielle sneered at her brother. “Shut it,” she seethed through gritted teeth. “If the Maker gave you one lick of sense in that big empty lump, you will not say another word. You are not going anywhere. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Carver opened his mouth as if he were going to argue, but decided against it upon seeing his sister’s eyes narrow, choosing to glare at her instead. Gabrielle pivoted on her heel before kicking over the dining chair standing in her way and stomped off to her room. She used another force push to slam the door behind her, belly flopped onto her bed, and began shrieking as loudly as she could into her feather pillow.

When she had screamed herself hoarse, Gabrielle finally turned her head to the side and caught a glimpse of her full pack lying on the floor. She closed her eyes for only a few seconds before she began wailing on her pillow with her balled right fist. Why didn’t she leave when she had the chance? Why did she have to be solely responsible for the lives of her family? After all, they were all adults, and perfectly capable of making it on their own without her.

Her eyes fell upon Bethany’s bed across the room, and all the fire and fight within her withered like fruit left too long on the vine. She stayed because she had to. Because she promised her father she would take care of her sister and keep her from the templars’ grasp. She swore she would watch over her mother because, although Leandra was a peasant’s wife, she was first and foremost a noble born lady and far too delicate in nature. Because she vowed to keep Carver from going astray and doing something foolhardy. Because she pledged to keep her family together no matter what.

How could her father have done that to her? Gabrielle was little more than a girl herself when Malcolm made her give that vow. How could he have asked such a thing of her? To devote her entire life to being caretaker to everyone else when she never had a chance to really live? It was unfair.

Gabriele flipped over onto her back and exhaled a long, slow breath. She supposed that’s what life was. One big, gaping maw of unfairness. After all, no one ever lived the life they truly wanted, did they? At least no one of her station.

There was a quiet tapping at the bedroom door followed by a timid voice. “Gabs? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Bethie. I’m fine.” Gabrielle answered.

Bethany was the one person in Gabrielle’s life whom she could never be angry with. Her sister was the kindest, most loving, and gentlest person she ever knew. The girl never raised her voice, never spoke a harsh word, nor lost her temper. Even when Carver tortured her, as brothers have a tendency to do, she never fought back. As a child, when others fought in her presence, Bethany would cower in a corner sobbing and covering her ears. Even as a teenager, she would lock herself in another room or go outside to avoid being in the vicinity of confrontation. Because of Bethany’s nature, Gabrielle knew her sister would never be able to survive in a Circle or on her own. And with their father gone, she also knew she was the only one who could ever protect Bethany.

“Would it be okay if I came in?” the younger woman asked.

“Of course,” Gabrielle replied, her voice much gentler and even. The door slowly creaked open until she saw her sister’s face peek tentatively into the room. “It’s alright, Bethie,” she assured the younger girl. “I’m all finished fighting with the Maker for now.”

With her sister’s reassurance, Bethany quickly entered the rest of the way and shut the door behind her before taking a seat on Gabrielle’s bed. Worry marked the girl’s delicate features as she spoke. “Carver said you got in a fight with some Grey Wardens this afternoon.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Leave it to Carver to get things completely wrong.”

Bethany grimaced. “So what did happen?”

Gabrielle took a deep breath before telling Bethany about her entire, Maker-forsaken day. She told her sister about the rude customers she had to deal with at the tavern, how Danal fired her, and how she punched Barlin in the nose. Gabrielle told Bethany everything, with the exception of how she almost ran away. She would never tell her sister about that. She didn’t want Bethany to ever think she would just leave her.

“I’m sorry, Gabs,” her sister said with a sympathetic frown.

“It’s alright,” the older apostate shrugged. “There was one good thing about my day, but you have to swear you won’t tell Mother.”

The younger woman leaned in closer. “Of course not, Gabs. I would never,” she promised. “What happened?”

Gabrielle took Bethany’s hands into her own, and whispered, “Those Grey Wardens I told you Danal was worried about? I sort of met one of them…sort of.” Her aquamarine eyes widened, twinkling with the memory of the man from the tavern. “Oh, Bethie, you should have seen him. He was the most handsome man I have ever even heard of. Dark blonde hair, hazel-green eyes, broad shoulders…He was perfect.”

Her sister giggled, but a moment later, her smile turned into a pensive frown. “You were thinking about going with them, weren’t you? The Grey Wardens, I mean.”

Given Bethany’s gentle demeanor, Gabrielle sometimes forgot how intelligent her younger sister was. “It was just a silly notion,” the older girl confessed.

“It’s not silly at all, Gabs.” Bethany stared down at her bare feet for a long moment. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. I know how sad you are all the time…because you’re stuck taking care of me and Carver and Mother. You should have a life of your own.”

Gabrielle took her sister’s face in her hands and turned it toward her own. Bethany’s cheeks were glistening in the candlelight with fresh tears. “Bethany…I would never leave you. Never. You’re my baby sister, and…”

Bethany shook her head and sniffled. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me. It isn’t as if I’m an infant.” She sighed. “If only I weren’t so useless. Then you wouldn’t have to worry about me so.”

Gabrielle hugged her sister’s head to her shoulder, just above her heart. “Don’t say that Bethie. You’re not useless at all. You’re the only one around this stinking village who understands me. The only one I can talk to. You’re my best friend.”

Bethany peered up at her sister, her chocolate brown eyes sparkling from her tears. “I’m your best friend?” she asked with surprise. “But, Raeanne…”

“Raeanne’s gone, sweetie,” Gabrielle reminded her. “Besides, you’ve always been my best friend. Ever since you were old enough to talk. And now that Raeanne’s gone, you’re my only friend,” Bethany’s lip jutted out with a pout, prompting her older sister to hug her closer. “That isn’t a bad thing sister…trust me.”

The younger woman smiled up at her. “And I’m not a burden?”

“Of course not,” Gabrielle affirmed. “And I’ll tell you another thing. If I were to decide to leave, I would take you with me.”

Bethany’s eyes lit up. “I know, we could be Grey Wardens together. You could do the fighting and I could heal anyone who gets injured.” She hopped up onto her feet and began jumping, pulling at Gabrielle’s hands to urge her older sister to join just as she had when they were children. “And…and then that handsome Grey Warden would fall in love with you…and then you’d get married.” Bethany giggled.

As much as she knew it was all pretend and could never happen, Gabrielle couldn’t help but be cheered by her sister’s optimism and enthusiasm. And so, she joined in the game of make believe just as she had done hundreds of times over the years.

“Yes,” she agreed. “And we could travel all over Thedas, protecting everyone from the Blight. And then you would meet a dashing Warden who would be completely crazy about you. With black hair…”

Bethany scowled. “Ew, no.” She then bit her lip like an excited child before continuing. “He’d be blonde. His hair would be long, and blonde and flowing down his back. And his shoulders…they would be wide, with big, muscular arms to keep me warm every night for the rest of my life.”

Gabrielle threw her feet out in front of her causing her bottom to land on the mattress with a bounce before flopping onto her back, nearly completely out of breath from exertion. “That’s how the Grey Warden in the tavern was. No long hair…but big and muscular.” Gabrielle’s body tingled from the image of him. “He was absolutely…beautiful.”

Bethany, collapsed onto the bed next to her sister before rolling onto her right side and resting her cheek upon her hand. “Do you think you’ll dream of him tonight?”

Gabrielle beamed. “I hope so. He would definitely make for a lovely dream.” Bethany’s face turned somber as she began chewing her lower lip with worry. “Is something wrong?” the older girl questioned.

“No,” Bethany lied. “Well…it’s just that…all this talk of darkspawn…and Mother and Carver fighting most of the night…”

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

“Would you mind too terribly much?”

Gabrielle put her head on her pillow and scooted her body over to make room for her sister. “Just promise me you won’t kick me off the bed again, okay?”

Bethany chuckled. “I’ll try, but if I have a dream about chasing after my own dashing Warden, it’s in the Maker’s hands.”

After speaking briefly with Morrigan and getting absolutely nowhere with Sten, Solona settled down next to Leliana in front of the fire. The redhead was humming to herself as she moved the kindling around with a long, sharpened stick. After a few moments, she finally turned her attention to the Warden at her side.

“The Qunari is being less than cooperative, I see,” she observed.

Solona shrugged. “At least I got a name, sort of. His title anyway.” The mage puffed out her chest and feigned a serious and dark expression. “‘I am Sten of the Beresaad. The vanguard of the Qunari people.’” Her shoulders slumped. “And that’s pretty much all he would say. Well, that, and bitching about us stopping to make camp for the night.”

Leliana chuckled. “That is more than Revered Mother Ivy ever got from him.”

“Then that’s something, I suppose,” the mage acknowledged. She creased her brow and regarded the redheaded woman through constricted lids. “Surely you know why he was locked in that cage.”

Her new companion nodded with a grimace. “I do,” she replied. “I never agreed with that decision, but being a lay sister, I had very little choice or say in the matter.”

Solona could already tell the redhead’s answer would do nothing to raise her opinion of the Chantry. Most members of the religion were hateful and spiteful bigots who despised anything they didn’t understand. The only thing most of them were good for was spreading falsehoods and dissension.

“I will refrain from blaming you personally, then,” the mage assured her.

Leliana exhaled a long sigh. “He was brought to Lothering in that cage on the back of a wagon from the docks of Lake Calenhad. The templars who found him there said he was unconscious and surrounded by dead darkspawn and a handful of his own people who had apparently perished in the battle.”

“Did he wake up and attack the templars?” Solona inquired.

“No,” the redhead answered in a flat tone. “One of the templars who escorted him to the village said he was still blacked out when they piled him in the cage. It took six of them to move him onto the wagon.”

“So they caged him for killing darkspawn,” the mage huffed.

“The official story was that he went mad and killed his brothers in arms,” Leliana explained with an air of disgust. “He was tried by Mother Ivy without saying a word in his defense. She claimed his silence was an admission of guilt.”

Solona rolled her eyes. “The Chantry will come up with any excuse to lock away anyone whom they deem dangerous because they don’t understand them. That poor man was a victim of circumstance by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She waggled her head. “Now that I know, I will attempt to speak to him tomorrow. Perhaps he and I can come to an understanding since we have something in common.”

“And what is that?” the other woman queried with mild curiosity.

“We were both locked away for the crime of simply existing,” the mage replied.

After a few minutes, Leliana jostled Solona’s arm with her elbow. She tilted her head in Alistair’s direction and displayed a sly grin. “He is a handsome one.”

She peered over at the warrior who was busy sharpening his blade with a whetstone on the other side of the firepit. Though Solona fully agreed with the woman’s statement, she had no intention of admitting it. Her fellow Warden was simply not interested her in that way, and it would do no good for Leliana to try and go playing matchmaker, if she were so inclined. He was reserved for other men, not the likes of her. Then again, there was the odd reaction he had to that poor, hapless barmaid. The sparkle in his hazel eyes as he stared at her with his most captivating grin. Perhaps he was interested in women, after all.

She did look a bit like a boy, though.

That would certainly explain any attraction he might have to the girl. Maybe his orientation included interest in both sexes, provided the female was masculine enough. Yes, that had to be it. Besides, it was possible he found no interest in the barmaid at all. Alistair was often given to such expressions when he regarded others. Perhaps Solona mistook kindness for flirtation, just as she did when she herself was on the receiving end of that affect.

The mage rendered a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose,” she ceded with a measure of contrived indifference.

At that moment, Alistair glanced up from his task and locked eyes with hers. His lips curled into a boyish smirk which sent Solona’s heart racing. Her hand slid to the pendant tucked beneath the front of her tunic. She ran the flat of her thumb over the tiny sword and flames, and her mind began to calm. She returned her attention to the woman at her side.

“So,” she began, “You’ve told me about Sten, but I still know precious little about you. You are obviously more than a simple Chantry sister.”

“You are very astute, Warden,” the redhead observed. “But I think I have proven myself trustworthy enough to remain in your company without answering such personal questions just yet. A good player never reveals her hand on the first round, after all.”

“True,” the mage concurred. “Very well, I will leave it alone…for this evening, anyway. Procuring those horses is payment enough for you to keep your secrets for at least one night. I must say, I was highly impressed with your negotiation skills.”

A small chuckle emanated from the other woman’s lips. “I thought you said you were allowing me to keep my secrets for tonight. You possess some skills of your own, my dear.”

Solona presented her companion with a cunning smirk. “I had to try, didn’t I?”

“I would have expected no less,” Leliana proclaimed before shifting her bottom on the log. “It’s a shame Alistair didn’t go with us, though.”

The mage arched a brow. “Oh? And why is that?”

“I think he should have liked to have seen Gabrielle again,” she said. “He asked a lot of questions about her while you were gone to the privy.”

“The barmaid?” Solona questioned.

“Yes,” the other woman replied. “She was working inside the stable while I bartered with the old farmer.”

Gabs always did have a bit of a temper, and she and Carver seemed to bring out the worst in each other. After the day she had, he’s lucky he got through it with his nose intact. I think Gabs must have had bones of dwarven steel back then. It’s the only explanation I can give for how she was able to stand at all considering she had the entire weight of the world on her shoulders, yet still managed to get out of bed every morning. I said many times over the years, if a man fell off his ship near the shore of Antiva, Gabs would find a way to take responsibility for it. I find it amazing she didn’t crack under the strain long before that day, but, then again, she always was stronger than me.

Solona came up with new and inventive ways to convince herself that Alistair was same sex oriented. Considering she had never come across any man she couldn’t have if she really wanted him, I guess it was understandable. I suppose she felt if he didn’t react to her advances the way other men had in her past, it meant he had no interest in women at all. It never occurred to her that he was simply naïve. For her, it was much easier to believe he preferred men, than to entertain the notion that she was being too subtle. In her defense, for any other man, her behavior would have never been considered subtle.

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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight