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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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How could he know this new dawn's light
Would change his life forever?
Set sail to sea but pulled off course
By the light of golden treasure
Was he the one causing pain
With his careless dreaming?
Been afraid, always afraid
Of the things he's feeling
He could just be gone
He would just sail on
He'll just sail on
~Metallica
Garrett followed in Solona’s wake as she headed through the tower’s large double doors into the waiting light of the breaking dawn. She walked several feet ahead until she was out of audible range of the templars standing guard at the entrance before coming to a halt. Her chest and shoulders swelled with a deep inhalation as she raised her hands into the air. With a sudden flick of her wrists, the mage threw her palms out, and a tremendous bolt struck the ground a few yards from where she stood, leaving a smoking black hole in the dirt.
“Maker fucking son of a Maker fucking bitch,” she cursed.
The pirate took a few tentative steps toward her, praying to the spirits she wouldn’t turn her wrath on him in her current state of fury. When the toe of his boot snapped a twig, he stopped short and she whirled around to face him. He held his hands out in front of his chest to show her he meant her no ill will, but with the expression she bore, he wasn’t sure it really mattered.
“Are you alright, love?” he questioned with a slight arc of his right brow.
“Not really,” she seethed. “No.”
He smirked. “That’s quite the bit of colorful language. Even enough to make an old pirate blush. I’m impressed.”
Her scowl wilted into an expression of haughty indifference. “Is that some type of inane attempt at humor?”
Garrett shrugged. “I thought it was funny. I take it you didn’t?”
The Warden harrumphed. “Hardly. I see nothing humorous about this situation. First, that bastard Greagoir does everything he can to make the task ahead of me as difficult as possible, and that’s after dealing with all that bullshit in the tower. I mean, how in the fuck are the mages supposed to perform the ritual without lyrium?
“Then, to top everything off, the ship that brought us here from Redcliffe is gone. Stranded us on this Maker fucking island. Even if we take a ferry back to the docks, it will take at least a week to get around the lake and back to Redcliffe on foot. Which means the mages won’t be back to Kinloch in time, and I lose a vital resource for this war.”
The captain peered over at his ship, floating between the island where they stood and the docks. He thought of Howe and the vengeance he vowed to bring to the man. He considered the fact that he really didn’t want to get involved in the Blight or Grey Warden business. Hadn’t he already done enough by helping to clear the mess in the Circle tower?
He was a pirate for the sake of the spirits, not some kind of bloody hero intent on sacrificing himself for the greater good. He could just sail on and forget all about Miri and Solona. He would dump Remus at some out of the way port, find Howe and kill him, and then head for the safety of the northern lands. It would certainly be the more intelligent thing to do.
As he contemplated his future, Garrett’s attention was caught by the sight of Miriana approaching from his left. The rays of the early morning sun glinted gold in the windswept tendrils of her dark sable hair, pulled loose from the binding of the long, thick braid that hung across her shoulder. Trepidation reflected in her blue eyes, a worry born of a now uncertain future. How could he possibly add to that by leaving her stranded there? He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.
Your promise to the lass ended when you walked through the doors of the tower. You’ve already done more than your fair share, mate. No need to get yourself involved further. This is the kind of bullshit that’ll get your ass killed…or worse, get your fool heart broken again. It’s trouble you don’t need. Just shove off and sail on.
That was it. He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t allow himself to be roped into aiding a lost cause. The Blight would ravage Ferelden and move through Orlais where they were more equipped to deal with a war against the darkspawn. Meanwhile, the captain would travel to Northern Antiva and wait out the storm. Perhaps he would even run into Isabela along the way. A few nights with her would certainly help to remind him of who he was and why he continued to choose a life at sea.
He turned to Miri, fully intending to bid her farewell and wish her the best of luck, but the forlorn expression she wore, silently pleading him not to leave her, was more than he could abide. It was almost as if she had read his thoughts, knew his intentions, and the idea of his departure was unbearable to her in light of the things she would be forced to endure.
Why are you hesitating? This will only bring you misery, mate, and you know it. She’ll never love you. She’s in love with that smarmy bastard, Gerard. Not you. That dream she had. That proved where her heart lies, what type of man she wants. You don’t need this in your life. You need your ship, your crew, Isabela when you want a tumble. Not this. Never this.
Garrett swallowed past the knot in his throat as he continued to wrestle with his thoughts. He knew it was folly to stay, but he couldn’t will his feet to move. As he stared into Miriana’s lapis eyes, filled with sadness and dread, he recalled something Bryce said to him years ago.
Sometimes you have to look past yourself, son, and put your own fears aside to do what’s right. There are monsters in this world, for sure, but the true villains are the ones who just stand idly by and do nothing while good men suffer.
Garrett had been one of those monsters once, long ago, when he took the lives of others just to make a name for himself. He made an oath that he would never be that man again. If he left now, that vow would be broken. Could he ever live with himself if he walked away?
His lips curved into a smile as he indicated to the Call with the tilt of his head. “Why don’t you and Alistair get to the captain’s gig, love? We’ll wait here for the others.”
Solona could hardly believe her ears when she heard Garrett tell Miriana to go ahead to his captain’s gig. Ever since she realized the sloop that transported her and Alistair to Kinloch was gone, she had been trying to discern the best way to ask the captain for his aid. She had assumed by the way he ignored her earlier statement about how she was going to lose the mages for the war that she would be forced to resort to less subtle tactics. She would have promised him any sexual favor he desired, no matter how debasing, if that’s what he wished in return for promise of passage. She was even prepared to offer him riches from Alistair’s future coffers, if carnal bartering wasn’t enough for him. Fortunately, it seemed he was more altruistic than what she gave him credit for.
Now, there was only one hurdle left. Where in the Maker’s name was she going to get the lyrium required for the ritual? From what Jowan told her, it was going to take a great deal of it. Without the Circle’s resources, she would be forced to find the lyrium they needed on her own. Orzammar would be the best option, but there was no way they could make it there and back to Redcliffe within a week.
“Bastard,” she mumbled.
“What was that, love?” Garrett questioned. “Did you just call me a bastard? And here I thought you might appreciate the use of my ship and crew.”
Solona rolled her eyes with a perturbed sigh. “I wasn’t referring to you. I was just thinking about how Greagoir fucked me over with his denial of lyrium.”
“Is that all?” the captain asked with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ve got more than enough Chantry paraphernalia in my hold. A little lighter on the stuff after the goat, but I’m sure there’s plenty for your need.”
“After the what?”
He shook his head. “Never mind, love. I’ve got it to spare. I was transporting a few crates to Jader when I got sidetracked by your sister. It’s yours if you need it.”
Solona lifted a questioning left brow. “Chantry paraphernalia?”
“A pirate term,” he explained. “I can’t very well go around announcing I’m hauling lyrium by the crate load, can I? The Chantry tends to frown on anyone but them and the damned dwarves having it, but it’s too profitable a cargo to just leave it be. There are plenty of apostates and booted templars out there willing to pay through the nose to black market dealers and plenty of black market dealers willing to give me a fair share of the profit for its procurement.”
“And you’re not worried about getting caught?”
“I have my methods.” His lips curled into an uneven grin, and he waggled his eyebrows. “Pirate, remember?”
Solona couldn’t help but be amused by his animated gesture. At the same time, she found herself completely enthralled by it. Captain Garrett Hawke was, without a doubt, the sexiest, most intriguing man she had ever encountered. The prospect of spending the next two days with him on his ship excited her in ways she never thought possible.
After glancing to her left and then right to ensure they were alone, she sauntered over to him and ran her index finger slowly down the exposed area of his chest. The smoldering gaze of his aquamarine eyes incited her nethers to tingle with need. It had been months since a man had given her pleasure, and the notion of Garrett being her next lover set her senses alight.
He reached down and lifted her chin with the side of his right index finger. “Careful, love. Teasing a pirate like that could get you in trouble you may not be ready for.”
She flashed a wanton grin. “Oh trust me, Captain. I am more than ready for you.”
Remus watched the banks of the tower’s island from the deck of the ship. It had been two days since the brig anchored in that part of the lake, and he was becoming restless in his impatience. The dark spirits inside him bade him to act. To enter the tower and destroy every templar within, but he forced himself to resist the temptation. He was still in control, still Remus. Besides, if he allowed the demons to have their way, Miriana would be dead. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
He knew Captain Hawke had taken the young mage inside Kinloch with the intention of leaving her there. At first, he planned to stop the pirate from committing such a foolish act, but his instincts told him to wait. There was trouble there. Trouble that would force Miriana to leave that place.
When the captain didn’t return within a few hours after their departure, Remus knew he was right to listen to his inner voice. As long as he could still feel Miriana’s presence, he knew she was still alive, no matter what kind of atrocities had occurred within Kinloch. If he didn’t see her in Captain Hawke’s company when he boarded the ship, he would simply go in and get her out himself. He had the means to do so. With the stone buried inside him, embedded into his stomach, there wasn’t a templar in Thedas who wielded the power to stop him.
Remus leaned further against the rail. There was movement on the shore near the captain’s gig. His heart skipped a beat when he realized it was her. Miriana. He could see her silver aura shining like a beacon. But who was that with her? It looked to be a lighter haired man in armor. But where was the captain? Perhaps the rogue had perished inside. Remus couldn’t help but smile at that notion. With the captain gone, he was free to pursue his newfound love without needing to compete with anyone.
She would be the light that would guide him. The one who would save him from the demons. From himself. Together, they would find the answers he had been seeking since he swallowed that infernal stone. He would be whole once more, human, and she would be right there with him. Always.
The captain’s gig was too small to carry everyone who needed to board Yavana’s Call all at once, so Garrett sent word with the mages that they would be ferried to the ship with Miriana and Alistair, and the templars would accompany the captain and Solona on the second trip. As they were rowed across the lake, Miriana’s mind was still reeling from Solona’s invoking the Right of Conscription. What was her sister thinking?
“Are you alright?” Alistair asked from her left.
They were the first words the Warden had spoken to Miri since they escaped the Fade. Although she was angry and confused about both the conscription and Solona and Garrett’s shameless flirting with each other, the genuine concern in his hazel-green eyes somehow lightened her mood a bit. She realized his consideration most likely was a result of his feeling sorry for her, but it was comforting, none the less.
“I’m fine,” she replied in a soft, quivering voice as she turned away from his gaze.
Despite the fact that she had grown much more comfortable in Garrett’s presence on their voyage to Kinloch, Miriana was flustered being in such close proximity to Alistair. Even with Faith’s possession emboldening her, he still made her nervous. He was kind enough, or so it seemed, and very handsome, but she still didn’t know him well enough to be able to relax around him.
“Are you sure?” he queried. “Because you’re looking a bit green.” When she produced a questioning grimace, he presented her with a shrug and a boyish grin. “I mean, don’t get me wrong or anything. It’s a very lovely shade of green. It complements your robes beautifully. I’m just not sure human skin is supposed to be that color.”
Despite her low spirits, Miriana couldn’t help but giggle at Alistair’s jest. She had expected him to attempt to console her with kind platitudes. Instead, he caught her off guard with a bit of lighthearted teasing. It was completely unexpected, and she couldn’t have been more grateful for it.
He chuckled. “That’s more like it. I was afraid the green might have been permanent. As I said, it was a lovely shade, but imagine if you tried to wear brown with it? Someone might mistake you for a tree. They’d go digging around in your hair looking for cherries or dates. Who needs to deal with that?”
Miriana’s shy giggle transformed into a hearty belly laugh as Alistair’s chest and shoulders began to shake with amusement at his own joke. After coming to the realization that Garrett didn’t share her feelings, the horrors they faced in the tower, and trying to wrap her head around the fact that she had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens, that brief moment of levity was a most welcome distraction.
After a few moments, Alistair swiped his fingertips across his eyes and licked his lips before addressing Miri with a smile. “It’s not so bad, you know. Being a Grey Warden. I mean, sure, you have to fight darkspawn occasionally…Okay, a lot, but at least you get to travel. And you’re not stuck in some tower where you’ll never get to see the sun again.”
Miriana’s shoulder lifted with a slight shrug. “I suppose,” she whispered.
The crew throwing riggings around to attach to the small craft so it could be hauled up to the ship’s deck was a welcome relief. Miriana didn’t wish to explain her views of the Circle to Alistair at that moment. It was clear by his statement he didn’t hold the Circles in high regard, and she wasn’t inclined to begin an argument right then. Her nerves were completely raw and required her to spend some time alone, away from everyone, to recuperate. Besides, with the exception of their time in the Fade, it had been days since she slept. She needed to lie down and rest, then maybe a bath and food when she woke.
When the captain’s gig was secure enough to disembark, Miriana stepped onto the deck and turned to Alistair to inform him of her intentions, but stopped when she caught Remus staring at her from a few feet away. He frightened her more than anything she had witnessed in the tower, and she didn’t want to chance his stopping her to chat. She had to do something to avoid the Tevinter, and thought it was the last thing she wanted at that moment, she forced herself to gaze up at Alistair with a timid smile.
“The Circles aren’t all bad, you know,” she began. “In fact, the Circle saved my life.”
Alistair listened in silence as Miriana leaned against the rail and related the tale of her life. She and her father moved to Nevarra City after Solona and their two brothers were taken away by the templars, where Ansel Amell became a house servant for the Mortalitasi Prelate, Vestalus Pentaghast. Even at the young age of five, Miri was expected to pull her weight and do odd jobs, such as dusting and sweeping, around the estate.
When she was eight, her master discovered she had magic when she accidently used ice magic to put out an ember that had landed on her dress. Over the next year, he instructed her in Spirit magic, drawing glyphs, and summoning wisps at will. She admitted she enjoyed the training until he took her to the crypts of the Grand Necropolis and spent days forcing her to use the wisps to animate corpses until her mana ran so low she thought she might die.
When she was finally allowed to return to the Pentaghast estate and her father, she locked herself in her room and refused to emerge until Ansel assured her Vestalus had departed. It was then that Miriana decided she wanted nothing more to do with magic. She wanted only to be a servant, but her master was angry with her refusal to further her training. That very afternoon, she was sent to the market with a shopping list and enough coin for her purchases. Shortly after her arrival, she was apprehended by a group of templars who took her to the Circle in Ostwick.
“So, you see,” she concluded, keeping her eyes to the tower in the distance. “The Circle protected me.”
Alistair never considered the fact that there were mages who actually wanted to be in the Circle. Up until he met Miri, all the ones he ever encountered thought of it as a prison. During his training as a templar, he was told there were others like Miriana, but he assumed it was just more Chantry rhetoric. Even given the story she told him, Alistair still couldn’t fathom wanting to be locked away for the rest of his life. The idea of being forced to become what someone else told him he had to be was difficult enough. He couldn’t imagine being told he would never again step foot outside on top of that.
“And you’ve never wondered what it would be like to live outside the Circle again?” he questioned. “I mean, now that you’re an adult, you don’t have to worry about Vestalus anymore. Being a Grey Warden isn’t exactly freedom, but it’s a damned sight better than anything the Chantry offers.”
“Ostwick wasn’t so bad,” she told him, still refusing to look him in the eyes. “A bit boring, perhaps. Though, my best friend, Julia, hated it. She was always getting into trouble from playing pranks on the templars.” She scowled as she watched the captain’s gig getting ready to be pulled from the water. “Solona reminds me a lot of Julia.”
“I take it that isn’t a good thing,” Alistair surmised.
Miriana shrugged. “I don’t know. Solona is my sister, that’s all that matters, I suppose.”
“That doesn’t always mean much. I had an older brother…”
“Did you get separated when they took you to the Circle, too?” she interrupted.
Alistair shook his head and stared at Miriana with a bemused expression. For the first time since they boarded the ship, her eyes met his. At first, he assumed she must have been joking, but he could see no hint of mirth within her lapis gaze. What in the Maker’s name made her think he was a mage? Maybe she was confused by what he said about the Grey Wardens and the Chantry.
“I’m not a mage,” he explained. “I was a templar initiate, but I was conscripted into the Wardens before I took my vows.”
The space between her eyebrows disappeared, and she hesitated several moments before speaking again. “You were saying? About your brother?”
Alistair paused before answering, recalling Solona’s reaction to his birthright. He was uncertain how much he should tell Miri about his heritage. Would she reject him as well?
The truth of the matter was, he loved Solona, but it was painfully obvious she didn’t feel the same and likely never would. Faced with that reality, and given the fact that he was developing a real affection for Miriana, he wasn’t sure he wanted to take the chance of repelling Miri the way he had her sister.
On the other hand, eventually, she would find out who he was. If nothing else, Solona would tell her, most likely sooner rather than later. It would probably be best to simply get it over and done with. That way, he knew where he stood from the onset.
“Yes, my brother. We never really got along. Actually, if truth be told, I never knew him. We only met four times. Once in Redcliffe when we were children, the other three in Ostagar within the same day.”
Her face wilted into a forlorn expression. “Ostagar? Did he…?”
Alistair nodded. “Yes. He died on the battlefield. We spoke at length in his tent that afternoon. He tried to tell me he was sorry for the way my life turned out and how our father treated me. He said he understood why I was angry, but it just pissed me off. He grew up in a castle. I was raised in a fucking stable. He had no clue what I went through.”
“A castle?” Miriana questioned.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, praying to the Maker she would be more understanding than Solona had been. “My brother and I share the same surname. His given name was Cailan.” He turned to Miri and offered his hand. “Allow me to officially introduce myself. I’m Alistair Theirin, future King of Ferelden.”
More than once over the years that followed, I considered just hanging it up and letting someone else deal with the world’s troubles, and each time, Bryce’s words served as a reminder that I couldn’t. I suppose that’s how I always seemed to wind up involved in thick of every major event of this age. I was never able to say no when the stakes were high and the chips were down. It just wasn’t in me.
If Solona knew me at all back then, she would have realized I never bartered passage for sexual favors, though many women tried over the years. It was too close to prostitution for my tastes, and I would have felt like I was taking advantage of a woman’s desperation if I had. Even though I spent a good deal of my time ashore in brothels, I only partook once outside of bachelor parties I attended in later years. After my first time with Isabela, my dad decided it was high time I discovered the joys of being with a prostitute and paid to share one with me. To be honest, I wasn’t impressed. Because of Eleanor and the things I had witnessed in brothels during my formative years when my dad visited them, I just never could bring myself to do such a thing.
Until the time of the Inquisition when the Circles fell, Chantry paraphernalia was always very lucrative cargo for those who weren’t too afraid of the templars to haul it, and it brought me a lot of coin over the years. Even after Solona took all she needed, there was still plenty of profit to be made from what was left. To be honest, though, I would have given it all to her if she had required it.
Remus’s infatuation with Miriana became an obsession after she was possessed by Faith. The demons trapped inside that damned stone he swallowed were drawn to the spirit, but Remus didn’t know that at the time. He just assumed the light he perceived within her was due to her kind nature. Fortunately, that misconception later afforded us the chance to get him out of the way, at least long enough to end the damned Blight, and introduce us all to a very dear, but odd friend. But that is a story for another chapter.
-G
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The True Tale Of The Fifth Blight