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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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Miriana kept her eyes to the table. She wanted to chance another glimpse at the dark man who had captured her attention, but she was too afraid he might notice. When she felt Kegan shift impatiently in the seat next to her, she took a peek at his bowl and found it empty. It was time to leave. Fighting against her shyness and trepidation, the mage decided she had to steal one final glance at the dashing stranger before relenting to the templar’s unspoken commands.

She lifted her head and found him facing in her direction. Her shoulders slumped with disappointment. He wasn’t looking at her. In fact, he seemed to be looking right through her. It was something Miriana had grown very accustomed to over the years. She was the quiet one, the invisible one.

At first, Miriana thought the man might be eyeing the pretty barmaid. Just because he denied her request didn’t mean he didn’t find her attractive. The serving girl was blonde and of average height with an hourglass figure, made more prominent by the tightly cinched corset she wore. From the mage’s limited experience with men, she knew the barmaid was the kind of woman most men would find appealing. Why should the man in black be any different?

The stranger’s brow creased and his lids narrowed. Miriana felt a shift in the Veil and the strong pull of the Fade. Something very powerful and extremely dark was in that room. That was when she realized, there was no hint of lust in the sharp, green-blue eyes of the man, but vigilance against peril she could feel but not see. He saw it, though. His hand slid from the table to the inside of his coat. Grenier shifted in his seat. Her eyes darted from Kegan to Grenier. Both men were gripping the hilts of their swords. The templars had felt it too, and they were preparing for battle.

The tavern door burst open with a raucous crash with six men in the wake of the disturbance. Three wore long, short-sleeved shimmering cloaks with hoods that jutted at sharp angles at the crown and front. The rest were dressed in strange armor, steel with gold and brown leather pauldrons and chest pieces. Their helmets appeared as silver masks decorated with thick metal horns in the shape of a large, oddly angled V that came to a point between the eyeholes.

“Your father sends his regards,” one of the men in cloaks announced

In unison, the cloaked men began to spread their arms wide. Fire and lightning formed in their hands and began to grow with their movements. Suddenly, there was a tremendous shift in magical energy. The dark power Miriana felt earlier permeated the very air, as if the Veil between reality and the Fade had abruptly been ripped open.

A heavy hand gripped Miriana’s shoulder and shoved her to the floor as Grenier and Kegan both jumped to their feet and spun around, swords in hand. From under the table, the young mage saw the heavy boots of the tall stranger kick away his chair then overturn his own table. He leapt forward, landing on his side, and skid across the floor toward her.

When he reached Miriana, he gathered her into his arms and rolled over on top of her. The scruff of his chin felt like dozens of pinpricks digging into her forehead as he pressed her to his body. The young mage’s respirations came in sharp, rapid gasps as she tried to catch her breath under his weight. Her heart pounded erratically as panic began to overtake her. Just before she closed her eyes, a blinding flash of light illuminated the room followed by a tremendous clap of thunder.

The thud of bodies hitting the floor almost simultaneously echoed throughout the tavern. The only thing Miriana could hear was the sound of her own panting resonating through the otherwise silent room. The man in black loosened his grip and shifted his arms until the weight of the top half of his body was resting on his forearms. The loosened tresses of his ebony hair grazed her cheeks as he stared down into her eyes.

“Are you alright, love?” he asked, his brow creased with concern.

As fast as her heart had been beating just seconds before, Miriana felt it stop under the weight of his gaze. The events that had just transpired were completely forgotten in that moment. The tavern, the world around her faded into nothingness. The only thing left was the two of them.

The mage’s lips trembled as she finally managed to mouth a reticent, “Yes.”

“Are you sure, love?” he questioned. “You seem a bit shaken up.” The left corner of his lips curved into a rakish smirk. “Or perhaps you’re just having a difficult time breathing under the weight of an old pirate.”

Miriana gulped. He was a pirate. Dear sweet Maker, it was him. It was actually him. Gerard was real. He was real and he had rescued her. There were a million things she wanted to say to him, to ask him. She had been in love with him since she was nine years old, ever since the first time she read the book her father gave her for a birthday present. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her face flushed crimson, her lapis eyes helpless as she brandished a silent nod.

When he chuckled at her answer, Miriana died a little inside. He thought her nod meant to tell him he was too heavy. That wasn’t her intention at all. After making a quick surveillance of their surroundings, the pirate bounced to a crouching position in one graceful motion then raised himself to his full height. His grin broadened as he bent at the waist and held out his hand to her.

“Sorry about that, love,” he apologized. “Wasn’t my aim to crush you.”

As the mage reached out to accept his aid, her hand was shaking so hard she appeared as if she had caught a chill. On the contrary, her entire body felt as if it were on fire. Every inch of her flesh reddened as her skin made contact with his.

He pulled her to her feet and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles. His lips parted as if he were about to speak again, when recognition of threat flashed in his aquamarine eyes. He dropped her hand to grip the hilt of an ebony handled cutlass at his waist and spun around, unsheathing the weapon as he turned. With his free hand, he pulled Miriana into his back and held her there.

The mage pressed her cheek into the cold leather of his coat, gasping for air as she tried to make sense of what was happening. On the floor, near her feet, lay the bodies of her escorts. Their dead eyes and faces were set in a permanent state of horror. Tears began streaming from the young woman’s eyes as she attempted to control the urge to pull her protector closer. She dug her hands into the sides of his duster and prayed to the Maker for deliverance from whatever put those terrified expressions on the faces of Lieutenant Kegan and Ser Grenier. Beneath her breath, Miriana began to recite a barrier spell to guard against the threat to her and her unknown savior.

“If you know what’s good for you, mate,” her benefactor warned as he indicated to the door with the point of his cutlass. “You’ll head right out that door and find a fast ship and a strong breeze.”

Miriana expected to hear a cold, cackling voice in answer to his demand. Instead, the response was from that of a quiet and seemingly unassuming man. “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you. I intend you no harm.”

The man in leather gestured toward Miriana’s escorts lying dead on the floor. “While I’m sure these two gentlemen find your reassurances quite comforting, I’m not so easily swayed. I’m just funny that way, I suppose.”

“They attacked me first,” he reasoned. “You couldn’t expect me not to defend myself.”

Miriana heard the other man shuffle to her guardian’s side and felt the arm around her tighten. The cloaked man pulled back his hood. He was about Miriana’s height with wavy, shoulder-length, strawberry blonde hair. His skin was extremely pale and his jaw sported scruff of the same light color as his mane. The width of his nose made his eyes appear smaller than they actually were, and there seemed to be a permeant furrow to the crease between his thin brows. Although he looked to be fairly young, the troublesome burden glinting within his light blue eyes betrayed a man who was experienced beyond his years. The thin smile he forced gave the impression of a very shy man.

“I apologize to you as well, dear lady,” he said in a soft voice. “I hope that you of all people can understand the predicament I found myself in and the reasoning for my behavior.”

Despite the fact that he seemed sincere, there was something about the man that Miriana didn’t trust. There was a dark energy in his magic and his aura, which extended much deeper than his outward appearance suggested. She tightened her grip on her rescuer and silently turned her eyes to the floor.

“My name is Remus,” the light-haired man told them. “Remus Terentius, former Altus of the Tevinter Imperium.”

He was a Tevinter. That admission frightened Miriana even more. No wonder he possessed such dark magic. The Imperium was known to be full of blood mages who worshipped pagan gods and used demons as playthings.

“That’s all well and good, mate,” the taller man said. “But you’re a long way from home. So, how about this? Why don’t you let the young lady and I walk and you just skulk back to Tevinter before we all find ourselves in trouble for your handiwork.”

Remus sighed. “Actually…I was hoping for your aid. That brig in the harbor, the one with the dragon sail…it is yours, is it not?”

“Aye,” the pirate answered. “She’s my lady. What concern is she of yours?”

“Those men who attacked me,” he explained. “There will be more coming soon. I need to get out of Highever before they arrive.”

“I’m afraid you’re out of luck there, mate,” the captain retorted. “After what you just did, every templar in Ferelden will be looking for you. I typically try to avoid having those prats up my ass.”

“I only need passage to your next port of call,” Remus argued. “I will pay you well for the privilege. Anything you ask.”

“Alright, mate,” the captain relented as he sheathed his sword. “Five hundred gold. Not a copper less. And if any templars attempt to board my ship, I’ll throw you overboard myself and sail away while they fish your Imperial ass out of the sea.”

“Very well,” Remus agreed. “I will pay you as soon as we are on our way.”

“I deal in coin, mate,” the pirate countered. “Not promises. Pay me now or walk your ass back to Tevinter. You may want to start now, though. It’s a good distance from here.”

Miriana heard the sound of coins clattering against wood atop a nearby table. “I will meet you on your ship then?”

The captain gave a curt nod, but remained standing reticent in the same position. The sound of footsteps creaking across the worn wooden floorboards echoed throughout the room. The pirate’s back moved against Miriana’s cheek with every deep breath he took. Suddenly, the footfalls stopped and a flame rose up on the right side of Lieutenant Kegan’s body engulfing a pool of sparkling red liquid that had seeped from the pocket of the templar’s skirt. A moment later, the squeak of rusty hinges resonated in the air as a strong wind blew through the tavern and put the flame out. Miriana jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut. Frightened tears stung her eyes as her body shuddered against the man she was clinging to for dear life.

The pirate took a step forward, forcing the mage to let loose her tight grip on him. He turned to regard Miriana with a sympathetic smile as he gently cupped her chin with calloused fingers. The danger and anger she had recognized within his green-blue eyes before had given way to kindness and compassion.

“And what of you, love?” he inquired. “Do you require passage as well?”

Miriana’s gaze moved over to the two templars lying on the floor. She was unsure what she should do. She could go to the local Chantry and tell them what had transpired, but would anyone believe her? By no choice of her own, she was now an apostate. A mage outside the Circle with no templar escort. What if the local templars thought she was the one that murdered Kegan and Grenier? They would execute her, or worse yet, make her tranquil.

Her phylactery. Kegan had told her he had it in his possession that morning. Perhaps if she took it with her, they would be more apt to believe her tale. Miriana pulled her face from the pirate’s hand and hurried to the dead templar’s side. She searched the pockets of the body, checking the burned section last. Beneath the hole in the man’s skirt, she found minuscule shards of broken glass. Her stomach sank. Her phylactery and any evidence it had been there were gone aside from a few tiny pieces of glass that had been burned clean.

Miriana’s heart raced, thumping so hard she thought it would pound a hole in her chest. It felt as if there was a heavy weight trying to force its way out of the center of her ribcage. Her throat constricted as she attempted to swallow back the panic and bile trying to force its way out. The nerves beneath her skin felt as if they were burning with electric sparks of lightning. The room began to darken and spin around her.

A hand on her shoulder brought Miriana back from the brink of the abyss that washed over her. The pirate knelt at her side and regarded her with thoughtful curiosity. The mage had to make a conscious effort to keep her teeth from chattering as she finally spoke in a voice just above a whisper.

“I…I need to get to the Circle Tower,” she stammered. “At Lake Calenhad...B…but I’m afraid I have no money to pay you.”

He took her hand and placed another gentle kiss on her knuckles. “No need for coin, love,” he told her with just the hint of a flirtatious grin. “The presence of your beauty on my ship will be payment enough.”

Miriana swooned, her panic altered to adoration. She drew a ragged breath. “Thank you, my lord,” she breathed.

“I’m no pratty noble, love,” the pirate insisted. He kept hold of her hand as he sprang gracefully to his feet and flourished an animated bow. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Captain Hawke of Yavana’s Call.” He pulled her hand gently, urging her to her feet. “And it is most certainly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dear lady.”

A girlish giggle escaped Miriana’s lips. She covered her mouth with her hand in an attempt to mask both the childish laugh and her excitement. He was even more dashing than she imagined. She assumed Hawke was a surname. She wanted to ask his given, but she feared he would think her rude. Perhaps later. She presented him with a small curtsy, just the way her mother taught her many, many years ago.

“Thank you, Captain Hawke,” she said with a smile. “I am Miriana, a mage from the Circle of Ostwick.”

His brow arched as if her name surprised him somehow. The affect was quickly altered when he grazed his lips softly across the back of her hand once more. Upon returning to his full height, his lips curled into an angular smirk.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he said as he crooked his right arm in offer for her to take. “Shall we, love?”

Miriana could only manage a nod as she slipped her arm between his and his side. He pulled her closer to him and placed the fingers of his other hand over her bicep then led her toward the door. The mage’s legs were trembling so badly she was forced to hold the captain’s arm a little tighter than was likely proper. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent. He smelled of a blend of fine leather, musk, exotic spices and the salty air of the sea with just a hint of dark rum. It was intoxicating. In truth, Miriana found everything about the man intoxicating.

They walked in silence down the rickety docks until they arrived at the end of the wharf to the sight of a ship more beautiful than Miriana could ever imagine. It was a brig, but slightly taller and wider than The Sea Rover. The sides were painted a deep, rich brown with dark blue accents and blue railings along the top. Beneath the bowsprit, there was a carved wooden figure of a stunning nude woman holding a large red orb in her outstretched hand. Upon her head, covering the top of her long, wavy hair was a helmet with large curved horns like a ram. At the back of the ship crouched a great wooden dragon with wings spanning the length of the stern and its gaping maw lifted to the sky. The numerous sails hanging from the masts were ivory, apparently yellowed with time, with the exception of one. The largest, the main sail, was black with a massive red dragon gracing its center.

Miriana gasped when she realized the brig was the exact ship described in her book. It was Gerard’s ship. The man at her side was most certainly the pirate she had fantasized and dreamed about for more than half her life. She stared up at the captain and exhaled a long contented sigh. She had finally found him. She only wished Julia could see him. The cryomancer would most definitely be forced to eat her words…then she would steal him away from Miriana. That speculation drew a sigh from the young mage’s lips.

Captain Hawke peered up at the ship then turned his piercing aquamarine eyes to her. The left corner of his mouth curved in an uneven grin, and Miriana felt as if she would faint under his gaze. He indicated to the ship with a wave of his hand.

“Welcome to Yavana’s Call, love.”

As his eyes remained locked to hers, Miriana began to wonder if she were under a spell of illusion. Maybe it was all just a strange dream. One of those nightmares that turns good in the end.

Dear sweet Maker, she thought as she got lost in those eyes. If I am dreaming, don’t ever let me wake.

I didn’t want to allow Remus anywhere near my ship but after what he had done in the tavern and the way he so readily parted with such a large amount of coin, I realized the man would not be easily dissuaded. I also worried about the people of Highever and what harm may come to them if he were cornered by templars or guards before escaping the city. They were good people, and I feared many would be hurt in such a battle. I suppose I presumed if the man became too much of a problem, I could simply drug him and throw him into the sea. No muss, no fuss.

Meeting Miri was the single most important event of my life. She was absolutely gorgeous and I felt drawn to her in ways I could not explain. It was as if the spirits had brought us together just when we needed each other most. I had no idea at the time, but that one chance meeting would alter my world forever. If anyone had told me back then how completely my life was about to change I would have assumed them mad and run them through.

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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight