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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.

Chapter List
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10:80 Raven
As much as she wanted to continue reading, Lizette’s lids began to grow heavy as her need for sleep began to overtake her. She rubbed her eyes against the glare of the sun peeking through the small openings between the heavy curtains. How long had she been at it, anyway? The sun had risen and set at least once since she began Garrett’s tale.
The Chantry sister ran her fingers across the words imprinted on the thick page. So far, most everything she knew about the Fifth Blight was wrong. Master Tethras’s account made no mention of an Avvar, a pirate, or the Hero of Ferelden having a twin sister. In fact, the dwarf seemed to have morphed the sisters into one person, giving the Warden Commander the personality of Miriana and the magical abilities and leadership skills of Solona. Not to mention the fact that Alistair Theirin was completely different than what she imagined him to be.
Lizette rose from the bed to retrieve her pack from the wardrobe and began rifling through it. When she found the small, thin wooden box she was searching for, she opened the lid to reveal a delicate strip of ivory silk. She smiled as she ran her fingers across the smooth material, recalling when her mother gave it to her the day she left for the monastery.
You may as well get some use out of my wedding dress, Lizette, since I guess we won’t be seeing you walk down the aisle in it.
Since that day, that piece of silk had only seen the inside of a handful of books. Now, it would grace the pages of the most important written works in the history of the Dragon Age. She knew the life her parents wanted for her, but a home and family of her own could never compare to the discovery she made.
Lizette returned to the large tome splayed open on the bed and carefully placed the heirloom bookmark between the pages to mark her place then closed the cover. When she lay down on her side, the sister placed a gentle hand over her treasure as if it were a lover sleeping next to her.
As sleep began to overtake her mind and body, Lizette prayed she would dream of Garrett and his ship, Alistair and Solona, Sithig and the epic battle he so bravely fought. She imagined the first kiss between the two Grey Wardens and how romantic it would be. The upcoming fight through Kinloch Hold. What Garrett and Miriana would do with Remus when they finally confronted the Tevinter. The heartfelt reunion between Sithig and his fellows.
In the recesses of her mind, in the surreal atmosphere of the Fade, Lizette saw a man in the distance walking toward her. He appeared to be in his late twenties with hair of ebony, dressed in black leather from head to toe and an uneven smirk curled on the edges of his lips. The sister knew him right away from the small painted portrait she found tucked between the end of chapter twenty-seven and the beginning of chapter twenty-eight, yet the artist’s rendering of him could never do the man justice.
He sauntered toward her with all the confidence and swagger she expected him to possess. Lizette’s breath stopped short when he took her hand and gazed into her eyes, his own the most brilliant crystal green-blue she had ever seen. The angle of his flirtatious grin deepened as he bowed then placed a tender kiss upon her knuckles.
“Captain Garrett Hawke,” he said in introduction. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, love.”
The sister was forced to bite her lips to prevent the giggle that threatened to escape them. He was just as charming and rakish as she imagined him to be, not to mention the most handsome man she ever laid eyes upon. There was so much she wanted to say, to ask. Where would she even begin?
“I have so many questions,” she told him.
His lids narrowed as he brandished a nod of understanding. “I know, Sister. And the answers to those questions will be revealed in time. For now, though, I need you to remember to keep an open mind and, I hope, an open heart as you peruse my meager attempts to honor my family with the written ramblings of an old man.”
Lizette bobbed her head. “Of course,” she promised.
The pirate took a step back, his image and touch quickly fading from her view and grasp. “Good to know, love, because things only get more complicated and…interesting from here on out.”
By the time Lizette woke, evening had settled across the city outside her small room’s window. The fire in the hearth had gone out and she shivered against the cold. Winters in Ferelden were worse than anywhere else in Thedas, and the Chantry sister thanked the Maker they were something she didn’t have to endure very often.
As much as she wanted to pull the blankets over her and curl up to continue reading, Lizette’s fingers were so numb from the chill in the air, she wasn’t sure she would be able to turn the pages of the book. Reluctantly, she rose from the bed to rekindle the dead embers and nearly jumped out of her skin when her bare feet touched down on the cold wooden floor.
Holding her breath, she hurried toward the small rug that lay in front of the fireplace and quickly threw a few logs and kindling from their rack onto the grate. After dousing the wood with a bit of oil from the mantle, the sister folded a char cloth over the flint. With trembling fingers, she struck steel against the rock and blew across the smoking piece of material then folded it into the tinder. Once the tinder was caught, she dropped it onto the wood, which lit the fuel. A few squeezes of the bellows later, and the hearth began to radiate warmth back into the frigid room.
After warming her hands for several moments, Lizette moved on to the modest wooden table in the corner where she pulled back the cloth of a small bundle that lay on the surface. She grabbed two slices of stale bread from the material and cut a thick slab of hard cheese then put them together to form a sandwich. As she bit into the dry offering, the Chantry sister couldn’t help but think of Alistair and how much he would have hated the fare, but it was a quick and easy meal that would allow her to return to the world of the Hero of Ferelden sooner.
With the aid of a small cup of water, Lizette choked down the last of her sandwich and promptly washed her hands in the nearby basin, then dried them with the small towel lying next to it. Once she checked to make sure her robes were free of crumbs and her hands devoid of anything that would cause smears on paper, she retreated to her place on the bed and recovered the tome from atop the thick quilt that covered the mattress.
Once the sister was securely nestled within the covers, she opened the book to where she left off, returned her bookmark to its small wooden haven, and took a deep breath. The moment her vision touched upon the first word, the world within came to life in the form of Garrett’s voice narrating the story in her mind.
Solona could scarcely believe it. After all that time, fourteen long years, she looked into the eyes of the sister she thought she would never see again.
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight