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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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Garrett was agitated as he made his way to his cabin that evening. He had meant to stop by and see Miriana again that day, but by the time he was able, it was late and he feared disturbing her rest. He only hoped he made up for it a bit when he sent Carlos to fetch her the rest of the Gerard books and ensured she would be given nothing but cold sandwiches for her meals. To anyone else, the gesture would most likely be deemed as uncouth, but Garrett knew he was doing the lady a favor in the long run.

The day had been a beast after he left the mage’s quarters. Every time he turned around, a rigging snapped or one of the crew injured themselves in a freak accident. The worst part of the afternoon came in the form of a lyrium crazed goat that somehow got into the hidden cargo hold, chewed through one of the crates, and began munching on the magical powder. Ramirez apologized profusely for the animal’s behavior and swore he had tied the thing up properly at the start of the voyage, but the damage had already been done.

Garrett was beginning to wonder if the Call had taken on a curse, and he was fairly certain that curse was in the form of the man occupying the tiny cabin off the cargo hold. Without proof, however, there was nothing he could do about it. A wall of heavy storms prevented the ship from nearing the coastline so the captain could rid himself of his Imperial passenger. It seemed as long as they stayed their course, the weather in their immediate vicinity held out.

When he arrived at his cabin, the captain found Martinez leaning against the door. His thick, bare arms were folded across his broad chest and his overly extensive right leg was crossed over his left. Nearing three inches taller than Garrett, the blonde man was the tallest the captain had ever seen outside of the Qunari, and he often joked his first mate’s great grandfather must have been a giant who mated with a dwarf.

“Mister Martinez,” Garrett greeted with a scowl. If the man aimed to inform him of more trouble on the ship, the captain didn’t want to hear it. “What can I do for you this not so fine evening?”

His first mate gave a slight tilt of his head in lieu of a bow. “Captain,” he acknowledged. “We have a slight problem.”

Garrett ran his jeweled hand down the length of his face and heaved a sigh. “Whatever it is, Martinez, take care of it. It’s been a demon of a day all around, and I can’t deal with anymore bullshit.”

The captain hoped his words would be enough to sway his most valued crewman, but the large man refused to move from his door. “Some of the men are beginning to grouse about our passengers and our route. It seems we’ve had no end of trouble since they boarded yesterday. Laurette won’t go near the cargo hold with that Tevinter down there and the crew’s rightly pissed about the goat.”

“I know, mate,” Garrett acknowledged. “I’m none too happy about any of it myself, to be honest.”

“Those storms along the coast have got the men coming unhinged,” Martinez said as he turned his gaze toward the gale just a few knots off the portside. “It’s almost as if the sea is trying to tell us something, don’t you think?”

“Give me one more day, Martinez,” the captain requested. “I never got the chance to speak to our female guest again after breakfast. She’s the only reason we’re going this way in the first place. I’m hoping to convince her to stay on and then we can veer toward Denerim before sunset tomorrow.”

“What about the Tevinter?” the other man asked.

“As soon as we find a way into port, any port, I intend to give that bastard the boot,” Garrett confessed.

Martinez pushed himself away from the door to his full height. “I’ll inform the men, then, Captain,” he said as he lumbered toward the trap door that led to the lower decks.

While his first mate had a tendency to worry at times, Garrett had never seen the man quite that vexed. Next to Fergus, Martinez was his best friend, and the things the man didn’t say troubled the captain more than any words he uttered. He knew what Martinez was thinking, he could see it written in the tall man’s blue eyes. Crews had mutinied over less. No matter how loyal or how well paid, Garrett’s men were still pirates, and they would only take so much abuse and worry before they rebelled.

“Lady, Miriana.”

A soft voice whispered her name from somewhere in the dark. Wherever she was, her surroundings were pitch black. Not even the hint of light permeated the gloom. The mage closed her eyes and called Lumia, but the tiny wisp was nowhere to be found. In fact, Miriana couldn’t touch her magic at all. She released a heavy sigh.

“Is there something I can do for you, Master Remus?” she asked.

At first, she saw nothing but his form, bathed in the glow of the same crimson light that always seemed to envelop him in the Fade. Slowly, her surroundings began to shift and sway until she found herself on the deck of the ship where Remus was leaning against the rail at her side. He straightened his back then turned to face her. When his eyes locked to hers, she could see tendrils of red smoke swirling within the light blue of his irises. The effect was both haunting and terrifying.

“Please,” he requested. “Call me Remus. “I haven’t been Master Remus in some time. Not since I left the house of my father.”

His lids narrowed as he studied her face. A pensive smile curled his lips as he brushed a loosened tendril of Miriana’s hair away from her brow and tucked it behind her right ear. Her entire being shivered against his touch, but she was powerless to stop it. She was unsure if they were in her dream or his. Either way, he maintained full control.

Remus leaned toward her, his face inches from hers, lips parted ever so slightly. He intended to kiss her. Miriana tried to shy away, to thwart his advances, but found she was unable to move even a muscle. Just before his mouth made contact with hers, he backed away with an apologetic smile.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I am being too forward. It’s just that you remind me so much of my Devin.” He turned his attention back to the black waves of the Fade-born sea. “She was the love of my life. I miss her, every day more than the last. You can’t imagine the pain of loving someone that much just to have them ripped away from you.”

The Tevinter propped the weight of his upper body against the rail with his forearms. “Some say time heals all wounds, but my experience has taught me that sentiment holds false. I began to think nothing would ever stay the agony of my broken heart…” He turned his gaze to her again, but did not otherwise move. “Until the first time I laid eyes upon you.”

Miriana’s knees faltered under the weight of his confession. Remus thought he was in love with her. She could see it in his stare. Even more twisted was the fact that he seemed to expect her to return his affections, as if his forcing his way into her unconscious visions would eventually convince her to see him in a different light. She wanted to speak, to let him down gently, but found he maintained control of everything in that place, including her.

“There is a light, an aura about you, that draws me,” he confessed. “I can’t explain it. Every time I look at you, I can’t help but feel that you are the balm for my soul. The cure for my curse.”

He stood once again and took her hand. Miriana didn’t attempt to withdraw it. She knew the effort would have been in vain.

“I know what you are thinking,” he told her. “But I am no mad man, nor am I a fool. I realize you don’t share my feelings…for now. I only ask you to give me a chance. Open your mind and your heart. At least allow me the opportunity to win your favor. The captain, that pirate…he will never see you the way I do. He will never understand or appreciate your true beauty, your essence, the light you hold inside you.”

The young mage swallowed against her fear. There was only one way out of the dream, only one way to break the hold he had over her. She would have to comply with his wishes, at least in that place. She nodded her head.

“Very well, Remus,” she murmured as she stared down at the icy fingers wrapped around hers. “I will consider your words.”

He flourished a bow. When he returned to his full height, she was greeted with his hopeful smile. He lay a soft kiss on her knuckles and a shiver ran up her spine. His lips felt cold, lifeless against her skin, bearing a stark contrast to the warmth of Garrett’s kiss.

The moment Remus began to walk away from her, a murky fog began to swirl around Miriana’s legs and proceeded to engulf her entire body until she found herself in complete, unyielding shadow once again. From somewhere in the black abyss, she heard the quiet sound of Faith’s whisper.

“Take care, Miriana. The deeper he falls, the more difficult the battle will be in the end.”

As usual, Alistair took first watch for the night, and just like the previous evening, Solona kept him company. Fortunately, she decided she wasn’t in the mood to play Confessions or to pry into his parentage. They simply talked. He related tales of his short stint with the Grey Wardens in Denerim and his travels across Ferelden with Duncan, Daveth and Jory. She told him about the scheming of the mages and apprentices at Kinloch Hold and stories about Jowan and growing up in the tower. No mention was made of Anders or of Eamon between the two. For the most part, the conversation remained pleasant and fairly lighthearted.

Before the end of his watch, Solona drifted off to sleep with her head nestled against Alistair’s shoulder. He knew he probably should have woken her and sent her back to her tent, but having her there was comforting. They would reach Redcliffe the day after next, and he knew everything would change. Sooner or later, he would be forced to tell her the truth. When that happened, she would no longer see him the same.

A soft whimper escaped the mage’s lips, and she tightened her grip on his arm before settling down again. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Was it the darkspawn or Anders? He considered either to be a nightmare for the woman.

As he stoked the fire with the sharpened branch in his hand, he had to wonder just how many mages had escaped the tower over the last few years. First, there was Jowan and then Anders had gotten away six times in as many years, according to Solona. Alistair knew of at least one more who managed to evade the templars while he was still an initiate at Bournshire.

He was barely eighteen the day Knight-Commander Glavin called the older initiates into the classroom for a special lesson on the efficiency of phylacteries. There were many who questioned their use, considering they were a form of blood magic, but the Chantry and templars maintained they were a necessary evil. Glavin intended to prove to them just how effective the vials were at deterring mages who chose to attempt to flee the confines of the Circle.

Because he had a tendency to fall asleep during lectures, Alistair was made to sit in the front row middle seat of the classroom where the Knight-Commander could keep an eye on him. Once the initiates were settled in and ready for Glavin’s lesson, the doors opened to reveal the tallest man Alistair had ever seen up to that point. He was at least six and a half feet tall with stringy blonde curls that curtained most of his face. He was filthy and bruised with dried blood caked around his mouth and under his nostrils. His wrists and ankles were shackled in special runed manacles that helped to subdue his magic. The most striking thing about the man, however, was the expression of total boredom and disinterest he wore.

Glavin paced the room between the captured mage and his students for several minutes. When he finally came to a halt in the center, he spun on the ball of his left foot and faced the initiates with a loud clank of his armored heels. His eyes scanned the room, until he was certain he met the gaze of every student, then lifted a small vial full of thick crimson liquid that sparkled in the rays of the sun streaming through the nearby window.

“This is a phylactery,” he began. “It is the single most important item in the Chantry’s arsenal to combat the evils of magic. It is what keeps mages bound to the Circles and protects the outside world from their corruption.” With the wave of his hand, the Knight Commander gestured to the man who stood behind him to his left. “This mage’s name is Haydn Steiber.” Alistair noted a slight cringe from the prisoner at the mention of his name. “He is evidence that the use of phylacteries is vital. He was captured not far from here in the Hinterlands with the use of this tiny vial.”

While Glavin droned on about the benefits of phylacteries and the vileness of magic and those who wielded it, Alistair’s attention remained focused on the tall man in chains. The mage didn’t seem inherently dangerous from what the young initiate could tell, just perturbed. As the prisoner scanned the faces in the room, his eyes locked upon Alistair’s, and for the first time since the man entered the room, the initiate recognized true animosity dancing within the amber of his irises. His left brow arched and his nostrils flared with a disgusted sneer. There was no doubt, the mage hated Alistair without ever speaking one single word to him. He hated him for the uniform he wore, for the man he was slated to become.

The initiate recalled the boy, Ryan, and wondered if Haydn Steiber had a similar experience when he was taken to the Circle. Perhaps his mother had instead been reluctant to allow the templars to take him away. The prisoner wasn’t a young man, by any stretch of the imagination. He had to have been at least ten years Alistair’s senior. What could have happened to him to make him chance running from the Circle, knowing the templars and Chantry held the key to locating him?

Alistair felt light fingers touch upon his shoulder and turned his head in time to see Leliana stifling a yawn. “It is time for my watch,” she whispered. “I almost hate to disturb the two of you though. You look so cozy together, cuddled up by the fire.”

The Warden chuckled. “It’s not like that, Leliana,” he told her. “You know that.”

“I think it could be,” she grinned. “If either of you ever decided to pull your heads out of your asses.”

Alistair feigned an expression of shock. “Why, Sister, such language!”

The redhead laughed as she took a seat next to him. “We all have our secrets, Alistair,” she admitted. “You most of all.”

He scowled at her. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m an open book.”

Leliana flashed a knowing smile. “As you say, your Majesty, but you will have to tell her sooner or later.”

Alistair’s eyes widened with true bewilderment. How could she possibly know? Only a handful of people were aware of his heritage, and Leliana certainly shouldn’t be one of them. She placed the tips of her fingers on his scruffy chin and pushed his mouth closed.

“Relax,” she said. “Your secret is safe with me, and before you ask, I have known your true identity all along, Alistair Theirin. As you may have guessed, I was not always a sister of the Chantry. My past is much more colorful than I care to admit. Let’s just say the robes never fit quite right. In truth, I was hiding in Lothering because I carried classified knowledge I never dreamed I would come face to face with one day.”

The Warden studied the redheaded woman for several moments. He realized upon meeting her, she was hiding something, but he never dreamed it was that. Who was this woman? She was an Orlesian in Ferelden. Perhaps she was a spy for Celene. Maybe she was an assassin sent to decimate the royal line.

Now you sound like Loghain.

It couldn’t have been that. If it were, she would have never revealed she knew his secret. She would have simply just murdered him in his sleep and moved on. Still, there was too much she was leaving unsaid. He opened his mouth to ask her, but she held up her hand.

“It is better that we don’t speak anymore on this for now.” She pointed to Solona. “I believe your fellow Warden is beginning to stir.”

I was never quite sure if my crew had actually considered mutiny. The truth is, the only way a captain ever knows for sure is when his men attempt it, and by then it’s too late to do much about it. A captain’s only option at that point is to put the rebellion down and punish those who led the uprising. Too many good men have been lost in that manner. More often than not, greed and hunger for power have nothing to do with the reason a man considers breaking his oath to his captain. No, it’s simply fear that motivates most crews to break those ties. During that trip, my crew was afraid and with good reason. It was only their trust in me, and Martinez’s reassurances that bought me the time I needed to set things right.

I could easily understand the feelings Remus had for Miri. It was quite some time yet before she told me about his invasions into her dreams. I knew the man was powerful, but I was not aware of just how disturbed he really was. The only thing I was certain of was that everyone wanted him off my ship as soon as the deed could be done.

It’s funny to me that Alistair knew of Anders before ever meeting Solona. Doc never used his given name. The fact is, other than a very few, no one in the Circle had ever even heard of Haydn Steiber.

Leliana was very good at finding the things most people wanted to keep lost, and information was most valuable to her. I told her once that all I needed was a strong ship, a good crew and a large treasure. She laughed and said just one secret could be a hundred times more profitable than any treasure I could ever find. The thing was, for her, it was the knowing that was important.

She never sold the information she discovered about Alistair, though. She could have been rich beyond her wildest dreams had she divulged what she knew, but my husband’s secret could not have been in safer hands. She did bring up a fair point that night, however, and Alistair knew it. It was time he told Solona, and I think that was what had upset him most during that trip to Redcliffe.

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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight