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In Peace Vigilance - Chapter 3

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 III: An Archdemon Short of a Blight

Cullen
Before that day in Dragon’s Claw, I’d never thought I would have ended up like I did, traveling with a Grey Warden.
Ah, the Grey Wardens, the great heroes of the legends... and not the average Grey Warden, mind you, but the mighty Hero of Ferelden himself!
That's right, the Grey Warden who ended the Fifth Blight and lived to tell the tale, the filthy son of a bitch who vouched for the mages who needed to be Annulled for breaking all the Circle laws - how Greagoir allowed that is still a mystery to me, perhaps he was mind-controlled by blood magic...
I was traveling with him and his friend, the maleficar asshole who had already ruined my life before Uldred and - guess what - ran apostate with the help of said Hero of My Ass.
Maker, what was I doing?
Why hadn’t I killed them already?
Well, yes, there was the fact my powers weren’t at their best while theirs were. Ewan had taken my supply of lyrium and I was in full withdrawal. Even breathing hurt, but that didn’t stop me: I had to stay with them so I could have a shot once my power returned. Ewan said they would, even without lyrium, that it was just a matter of willpower... Maker, I hoped so: if there was anything I didn’t lack of was the will to kick their ass into the Fade and back. And then kill them.
“Are you feeling better today?” Maleficar asked.
“Yes, Maleficar.” I grumbled. Why are they so nice to me? Can’t they see I’m onto them?
“I noticed you’re not drooling anymore.” Jerk Warden quipped. Yeah, talk about nice.
“Why are you so mean to him?” Maleficar asked him.
“Why is he mean to you?” he replied. Why? What was I supposed to do, slit my wrists and frolic along with him under a rainbow made of blood?
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Right now, nowhere.” Ewan replied. “Not until you’re clear headed enough to think. You were under the influence of something, and we’re not going anywhere near populated areas until you clear it out of your system.”
I scoffed: clear headed? I could think straight, not that he knew anything about straight anyway, the little bitch. “Why are you persisting with me? You’re not my warden.”
He chuckled at my unintentional pun: “Well, because even if we’ve never been friends and I don’t like what you’ve become, you’re the templar who witnessed my Harrowing, that counts for something, does it?”
“Does it really?” I asked doubtfully.
“Well, you’re part of the Circle I remember and love.” he shrugged, “Not my favorite, but I don’t want to see you hurt yourself.”
“Ah right,” I scoffed, “You’d be upset if I did, maybe even more upset if you found out they changed the bedding in the apprentice’s quarters or moved the library up to the third floor.”
He made a mocked gasp: “Did they?” I just ignored him.
“Hey,” he playfully bumped a fist on my shoulder, “I’m not the one having trouble distinguishing the value of a human being from that of a piece of furniture.
I rolled my eyes and kept walking. Of course Maleficar had to put his two bits in it: “Come on, Ewan, Cullen is just...”
“Recovering from a psychosis? Possessed by a demon?”
I turned to them so fast to tell him off that I tripped over myself and landed with my butt in the dirt. Maleficar rushed to me but I slapped his hand away: the day I let him touch me I’ll cut the part off. Ewan was just laughing shamelessly.
“Why am I following you again?” I grunted as I got up.
“Because I don’t want a crazed armed templar roaming around Sighard’s bannorn.” Ewan replied. “Besides, seriously speaking, I’m not completely sure you weren’t under a demonic influence...”
“Of course...” I turned away cutting him off.
“Cullen, I’m serious. I have seen the effects of lyrium overdose: it turns people into blabbering fools, not killing machines.”
“And you think a demon possessed him?” Maleficar asked.
“He lives in Kirkwall, Jowan: the capital of blood magic in the Free Marches.”
“You have a point.” I admitted begrudgingly.
“I don’t know what caused it, but I can see you’re coming out of it...” Ewan shrugged, “Give it a few days and you’ll be able to think straight again. Then we could even identify the source of your... problem.”
“And then?” I asked.
“Well, then we could reach civilization and find a way to justify your desertion to Meredith.” Ouch. He was right, I did desert the Templar ranks by leaving my assignment... wait did I really leave it? Wasn’t I sent by the Knight-Commander? Or... damn, I couldn’t remember...
“...And I think I can fix things for you as well Jowan.” he continued. Of course he would, anything for his maleficar boyfriend, right? “It may take a little persuasion, but I guess I can talk Oswin into help us. If he and I vouch for you we could give you a clear slate...”
“Who’s Oswin?” I asked.
“Bann Sighrad’s son?” Maleficar suggested.
“Yup, him.” Ewan nodded. “I saved him from Arl Howe. Of course you should still avoid Circle Templars, especially the ones you know, but that’s better than nothing, right? Perhaps, you can go to Vigil’s Keep and work with the Wardens, I can write a recommendation for you...”
“You really believe you would convince him to help a blood mage?” he asked doubtfully.
“I can be pretty persuasive...” Ewan laughed, “And believe me, I certainly plan to leave the ‘blood magic’ part out of the conversation.”
“I could arrest you for so many things it wouldn’t matter if we were in Par Vollen.” I muttered.
“Was that a joke?” Ewan asked surprised, “He’s making progress...” he nudged Maleficar.

We camped that night in a small clearing in the forest. I sat a little apart from them, but the silence was driving me nuts.
“Do you really think I was under a demonic influence?” I finally asked Ewan.
“You tell me. You certainly did look the part. If you remember I have seen my share of possessed Templars: we didn’t have to fight only mages and demons in the tower.”
I sighed. “Right, I remember.” I wish I didn’t. Uldred’s uprising was still haunting my nightmares: the things I witnessed, the magic I endured, the tortures that were inflicted on me... I shook my head, I didn’t want to think about it.
“I sort of feel responsible for that.” he admitted, “Whoever did this to you, demon or blood mage or Maker knows what else, probably exploited the scars you still bear from that experience. Why else did you travel all the way here from Kirkwall? Something combined the two things you never managed to move on from - namely Eloise and the blood mages in Kinloch Hold - into a perfect target: Jowan...”
“Why would someone do that?” I asked. Nope, not buying it, try again Warden.
“I’m not even sure it was ‘someone’... have you ever seen a red lyrium idol? Perhaps you have one or confiscated it from a dwarf in Kirkwall...”
Red lyrium? Is that even a thing? “What does that have to do with anything?” I frowned.
“Well... I know the Champion of Kirkwall found one in the Deep Roads a few years ago, and it was stolen from him. The thief went crazy, obsessed, there was a kind of magic in that idol that drove him crazy, perhaps it was the same kind of magic that...”
“And how do you know that?” I asked.
“The Champion is my cousin...” he shrugged.
“...And you are so close he never mentioned your name and he was completely indifferent when I told him I knew you.” I laughed.
“No, we aren’t, I actually never met Aiden, but I do know Carver, his brother, who is - as you may know - a Grey Warden.”
“Right.” I groaned. “You know, I’m sick and tired of you, Warden. Of your hypocrisy, your pride!”
He blinked at me stunned: “What do you...” he started but I cut him off.
“Everybody thought once you passed your Harrowing you would have been trained to be the new First Enchanter, the youngest a Circle ever had. All the Enchanters, even Uldred, had you in great consideration; you were their pet, their star pupil! Maleficar here saw to that, but you still managed to land on your feet being conscripted, and now you are the Mighty Warden who saved us all from the evil Urthemiel and the Blight.”
“So? What does this have to do with anything?” he asked bewildered.
So even if you have been cuddled and encouraged, even if the people call you a hero and a savior, you’re not the savior of everyone and everything! No one asked you to do that, and certainly not me!” I was on a roll, I never felt such anger in my life, and I kept going: “But I’m not buying it: you do this because you like it. Not out of generosity, you like people worshiping you, calling you a hero, thanking you. You enjoy the attention, you enjoy being loved by everyone... you can count me out of the mass: start minding your own business for once, because I won’t thank you when this is over!”
I was panting by the end of my tirade. Maleficar was glancing from me to Ewan confused, but the Warden was just staring at me in silence.
“Are you done ranting?” he asked eventually.
“Maybe.” I admitted. The rage was gone now, I just felt... numb. Empty.
“Ok, first of all, you’re absolutely right: I do enjoy the attention, I like the rewards that come with my job even if it’s just gratitude or a pat on the back. But this doesn’t mean that everything I do I do it for the reward. I don’t give a flying shit about what you think of me, but I am a Grey Warden and I do serve this land and its people as a protector...”
“And what am I? Someone to protect or something you must defend others from?” I snarled.
“Right now, both. I want to believe you’re not completely yourself, and you didn’t mean to hurt innocent people, but until you realize what you’ve done and start to cooperate, you can bet your chainmail-skirted ass I’m going to keep an eye on you. Closely.
We held each other's gaze for a solid minute.
“This is totally payback for Anders, isn’t it?” I sighed eventually.
He snorted amused, “No... but now that you mention it, maybe a little.”
Smart ass.
“Soooo...” I stretched. “When can I have my sword back?”
“In your dreams.” He replied biting a chunk of died meat.
“Of course.” I muttered.

Three days later, I finally managed to shave myself. After I scratched my jaw raw from the itch, Jerk Warden agreed to lend me a razor, but kept a closer eye on me: he said I could feel a little paranoid because of the withdrawal... as if!
He probably wanted to lull me into a false sense of security to gut me in my sleep, and perform a dark blood magic ritual with my entrails, that’s the reason he kept me unarmed... or perhaps he intended to sell me to Tevinter slavers or to the Qunari... that's true: he had a Qunari friend! He was probably the one suggesting he ransack Kirkwall to promote his cousin’s rise to power as Champion... he says they weren’t close but that's what he says...
Paranoid. Me. HA!
After I finished, a green budgie flew around me a couple of times before landing on my hand. It never happened to me, a bird flying to me like that... it occurred to me that it must have been domesticated: budgies aren’t birds you can find in the Fereldan wilderness, the climate is too cold. Maybe he had escaped his cage, and now was flying north, towards a warmer sun and softer winds...
...Then the little fucker bit my thumb. I swore out loud.
“What now?” Jerk Warden asked. “Jumping at the sight of your shadow again?”
“That bloody budgie bit me!” I muttered sucking my offended finger. Bloody... what if... “Do you know anything about this, mind controlling maleficar?” I asked Maleficar.
Maleficar sighed: “I don’t control minds; I don’t know that kind of blood magic.”
What “kind” of blood magic? There’s only one kind of blood magic: the... uh... blood magic kind. Right?
Jerk Warden sighed: “I hope Anders will be gone before we arrive at Vigil’s Keep... I wouldn’t want Cullen to meet him of all people.”
“Anders? You mean Anders the Escapist? He’s a Warden now?” Maleficar asked surprised.
I was surprised too: “I thought the Pigeon left the Wardens.”
Both maleficarum stared at me: “The Pigeon?” Jowan asked.
I shrugged: “Yeah the Pigeon. That’s how we called him back at the tower. It started because Greagoir used to tell us rookies only pigeons were allowed to come and go as they pleased from the tower... but after Anders’ fourth successful escape attempt he stopped saying that. The nickname stuck, though, at least between us Templars.”
Ewan and Jowan blinked a couple of times then they burst out laughing. “I’ve never thought Templars had a sense of humor!” Jowan said.
“I traveled with one, Jowan...” Ewan quipped, “It gets worse by the joke.”
I wondered who he meant for a second then I remembered: “You mean King Alistair? Please! He’s a real templar as much as he tells real jokes. If you look for templar humor you must ask Carroll...”
“I’d rather not.” he shivered, “I didn’t realize you knew Alistair, though.”
I shrugged: “We met during our training; we’re about the same age. He got recruited before I took my vows, but we trained together for a couple of years.”
“It’s nice to see you finally opening up to us, Cullen.” Jowan said with a smile.
Crap.
“I’m not talking to you, Maleficar.” I growled.
That threw them into a new fit of laughter.

It was almost a week traveling together, and we were still camping in the forest. Ewan had decided to take a long route following the Southron River, probably intending to reach Gwaren: he didn’t share his intention if or not he meant to have me in the forest as long as possible.
I did feel better. I had less scary dreams and I started to realize my head was... clearer. Emptier. Not that I felt stupid or vague, it was a strange sensation, akin to the one you feel when you exit the barracks with half the garrison in it talking and chilling at the end of their shifts and you go out in the silence of the night in the Kirkwall docks. Not that there were people talking in my mind, but the sensation was almost the same and I felt like I was in a daze. I still had trouble falling asleep, but I often pretended to be, so as not to be involved in conversation.
Jowan and Ewan were talking by the fire, and I started realizing I longed for company, for a connection. Their friendly banter reminded me of older and better times, when I was with friends, both in Kinloch Hold and in the Gallows. I still bore the scars from my experience with Uldred, but I thought I overcame them before... before what? The thought hit me: I forgot why and how I left Kirkwall. What drove me to Dragon’s Claw? How did I track him down? Why did I start my hunt for Jowan in the first place? It was like I was obsessing over him, a thought that had spread through my waking and sleeping hours over the weeks, perhaps months, possibly years... I had to talk to them about this, maybe the three of us could figure out what has happened to me.
Oh Maker, me considering to seek the help of a Blood Mage? Meredith would throw a fit! But I wasn’t Meredith. I’ve known Jowan since we were in our teens and somehow I knew he was... accursed, maleficar, but still a good man somehow. It was my duty to bring him to justice, but the chantry didn’t specify “instantly”...
“So your lover is an Antivan Crow?” he was asking Ewan.
“Used to be. Now to be found in Antiva.” he sighed.
“Tell me about her. I see you’re missing her a great deal...”
He is an elf, a handsome and deadly elf.” Ewan replied with a hint of laughter in his voice. “We share a morbid sense of humor and a taste for wine and fine butts, but there’s more to it in our relationship. We met when he was hired by Loghain to kill me, he failed and I decided to spare his life in exchange for helping me with fighting the Blight and ending the Civil War. Kept his end of the deal and while we were at it we started... uh, getting to know each other better.”
Jowan held his breath in surprise for a minute before whispering: “He?
“Yes, Jowan. He. Zevran is a man.”
“Oh.” I could feel Jowan blushing even if I wasn’t looking at them. “I didn’t know you were... I mean, attracted by other men.”
He didn’t? Andraste’s crown, in what tower was he living before running apostate? Everybody knew that Ewan was sailing both sides of the Waking Sea! For a time he even hit shamelessly on the Knight-Commander - which could have been his father, I might add - making him the joke of the whole tower in his unsuccessful attempts to make the young apprentice desist... He ended up asking for Amell’s transfer to Dairsmuid, but... well, they they took away the wrong Amell. I believe Aed still curses his brother’s name on daily basis.
“I never made it a mystery I speak King’s Tongue in bed, Jowan!” Ewan laughed, “But I guess if it’s not spelled in glowing runes it’s hard to get it for you, isn’t it?”
Jowan grunted. “I'm not that blind, Ewan, I was there during the whole Gregoir incident, but I thought you were just making fun of him... and except for him you've never show interest in other men... not that I noticed. It’s weird.”
“What’s weird about that?”
“It’s weird that I didn’t know. I mean, we spent years together, being friends and all... I may not have noticed you ogling at the guys -if you ever did- but we did talk about sex and the girls we liked, and you never mentioned...”
“Blood magic.” Ewan quipped.
“...Rrrright.” Jowan admitted embarrassed. I shifted slightly, still pretending to be asleep to look at them: I wanted to see Jowan’s face, his expression had to be quite a sight. “So... After all you were serious with Gregoir...”
Ewan chuckled “I wouldn't have kicked him out of my bed... but, halas, nothing ever happened.” he added with a dramatic sigh. 
Jowan grimaced making Ewan's chuckle grow into a full laughter. "What about... others?" he asked after a minute.
“...Others?”
“Well, did you have male lovers? In the Tower? I’m curious now...”
Even in the dim light I could see Ewan frown. His face immediately shifted into a sad, melancholic look and he sighed with resignation. “Well... yes.”
“Really? Who?” Jowan asked merrily.
Ewan sighed theatrically. “After all these years I’d have thought I’d got over it...” Oh, this has to be good!
“Over what?”
“Well, I suppose you don’t remember that time when we found senior Sweeney’s secret ale stash...” Oh, I so knew he was more of a drunk than senile!
“Er... no?”
Ewan nodded and smiled sadly: “I thought you were pretending not to, that you were trying to deny what happened, but now I see you really were...”
Jowan frowned: “Can you please explain me what are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?”
Ewan shrugged: “Nothing... it wouldn’t have changed anything anyway, would it?”
“Change what?” Jowan groaned in frustration, “Why do you have to be such a tease? Spill it!”
“Don’t you remember that night in the library at all?”
“Oh, for Andraste’s sake, what night? What happened?”
Ewan stared into the fire before croaking: “You and I... we made love Jowan.”
OH I KNEW IT!
“We WHAT?” Jowan yelled in surprise.
Ewan nodded: “You were my first... and you told me I was yours. Oh, we were young and drunk, but I’ve always remembered and cherished that moment. It is a wonder no one found us, behind the shelves of the library, we certainly weren’t trying to be quiet. I still remember your moans, the taste of your skin...”
Jowan looked petrified as Ewan was going in recalling the details of their night, his jaw closer to the ground with every passing second. “Only you and I... a perfect moment in time. You were my best friend, my mentor, my brother... and yet you were more, you were my only love. And when I told you that I loved you, that I would always would, you spoke those words back to me. I was in the Golden City. I knew I was yours but I couldn’t believe you were mine too...”
Oh, the look on Jowan’s face!
“But the next morning...” Ewan continued, “When I came to talk to you about what had happened, you didn’t remember anything, claiming you had a headache. My heart was broken. I thought you were lying because you couldn’t face me in the morning... so I let it go. I understood we would never be together.”
Jowan looked... well, I couldn’t tell if he was sick, embarrassed or both, but his face was a mask of horrified pain and shock. “Y-you... I-I... We...”
“I thought after all this time I had gotten over it, but...” Ewan sighed on the verge of tears, his voice trembling... then he glanced at Jowan and tried to stifle a laugh. He failed, and in a second he was rolling on the ground laughing his head off. “OH MAKER! You should see your face, I can’t believe you bought it!”
What? Son of a Mabari, I bought it too!
“WHAT?” Jowan yelled, “It wasn’t... you son of a...”
That did it, I started giggling and they must have heard me since they stopped talking and looked at me. I cleared my throat and turned towards the woods, embarrassed at being caught eavesdropping.
“So...” Ewan whispered loudly, “Sir Templar is always on duty, watching over mages even outside the Tower...”
“Yes, we must be careful...” Jowan whispered back, “He may overhear our secret plan to overthrow the Chantry and conquer the world...”
“Hey!” I said out loud turning in mock indignation, “It’s not overhearing if you’re shouting in my ear. I was trying to sleep here!”
“Sorry Cullen!” Ewan laughed, “It was a once in a lifetime opportunity.”
“I know” I smiled at him, “And you were good: I bought it myself. But then again, knowing you everyone in the Tower thought you two were lovers...”
Jowan stared at me like a rabbit caught in a Dragon’s throat, and that sent me and Ewan in a new fit of laughter. The blood mage scowled and killed the fire with an ice spell. “We’d better sleep now.” he grunted.
“I agree.” Ewan sighed, “You want to share my sack, lover?”
“You wish!” Jowan replied sticking out his tongue.
Both mages started setting their bedrolls and preparing for the night.
“It’s good you have each other.” I murmured. “My Templar friends...” my voice trailed off.
“What about them?” Ewan asked. I didn’t answer. What could I tell him? That all my friends in Kinloch Hold were dead? That in the Gallows I couldn’t have any real friend because of my position as second in command to Meredith? That people were too scared I could report them to the Knight-Commander to speak freely in front of me? That I couldn’t trust anyone because blood mages had infiltrated the Templar ranks with abominations in the past and I couldn’t be sure I could open up to anyone without compromising myself and jeopardizing anything the Order was doing?
“Nothing, never mind.” I told him, and turned again, staring in the night. I didn’t have friends like they were, I’ve never had actually. I have had companions, comrades, subordinates, but I’d never been so close to someone like they are, not since I left home... It occurred to me that I didn’t see my brother in years and I seldom write to my sisters.
I felt envious of their relationship... I felt alone.

I started opening up to them in the next two days, and I realized I stopped calling Jowan “maleficar” and consider them my enemies. Perhaps I was developing a Hossberg syndrome, who knows, but in truth I felt like I was getting out of something. Ewan was right, there was something I needed to get out of my system. They weren’t forcing me, though.
“I always wondered...” Jowan said. “Do templar make chastity vows like chanters and sisters?”
“Some.” I replied. “But it’s not mandatory. Actually they don’t let you unless you have at least one brother alive. Of course you can’t marry while you serve in a Circle, and you’re forbidden to have a relationship with a mage... It’s more about ethics, though, it’s not a dogma or anything. Actually even marrying another Templar is frowned upon: they say too much lyrium combined could result in magical offspring.”
“And that’s why I disagree with the Chantry more than I agree to it.” mentioned Ewan, “I don’t like a religion that tells me who to bed and marry.”
“The Chantry doesn’t...” Jowan objected.
“Lily.” Ewan replied.
“I hate you.”
I chuckled. “You two sound like an old married couple.”
“We did it just once in the library, we didn’t make it to the chapel.” Ewan laughed. Jowan just flipped him off.
“What made you decide to become a Templar?” He asked me eventually.
I shrugged: “I always wanted to be one, for as long as I can remember. I always thought it was the greatest service a man could offer to the Maker... Templars actually enforce the Maker’s law, instead of preaching it like chanters or priests do...”
“You mean by fighting the ‘mages who don’t serve man but try to rule over him’?” he asked. There wasn’t bitterness in his question, just genuine curiosity. I guessed he had seen how much magic can change men as much as I did.
“Well, at first I didn’t. I just cared about doing my duty; I didn’t have an opinion about magic... I even used to think some of the Chantry laws were too strict... then I saw - and suffered - the mischief of blood magic...”
Jowan scoffed. “And you decided the Chantry was too lenient on us?”
I grinned: “Jowan, you are a blood mage...”
“Well tell me something I don’t know.”
“...Though you’re not much of an evil being.” I admitted.
Both of them stopped and looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
“Wait, what did you just say?”
I chuckled: “As I said, I have seen the true power of blood magic, and frankly... you suck!”
Ewan burst out laughing while Jowan glared at me in outrage: “I did fry your ass, didn’t I?”
“Oh Jowan...” Ewan managed to sigh between the laughter, “I’m sure you could unleash insane horrors if you want to...”
Jowan glanced from me to him, then he threw his hands in the air and stomped away in mock indignation.
It felt good to throw some of the teasing back at them.
I still couldn’t believe what was happening to me: I hadn’t had lyrium in over a week, but I could feel my senses and my powers returning. The pain still came and went, but I found out I could cleanse a small area from spells even without consuming the Blue Dust - and I was threatened by Ewan for it, since I managed to do so when he was using his Combat Magic to carry a large part of our baggage. I could see things with more clarity, and the fact that I was overcoming my dependency on lyrium was making me wonder how many lies I had believed so far.
What Ewan had told me made sense and I was finding out it was true: the Chantry used the lyrium to control us: who would put himself willingly through the ordeal I was facing since the last week? The lyrium still called to me, but I felt stronger, and I didn’t want it... no, I did want it, what I didn’t want was to step back in the old habits: what if I could live without the constant need and craving for lyrium? What if I could be a better man - a better templar - without it? I had to try.
But what scared me the most was that I was starting to feel... affection for the two mages. Ewan and I weren’t friends back in the days, but we weren’t enemies either: we were acquaintances on a first-name basis (not that mages use their family name often, the few that have it), we talked sometimes, not much but regularly, and he even offered to be my first Harrowing, so I wouldn’t be the one overseeing Eloise’s.
Jowan, on the other hand, I always hated: I knew Eloise had a thing for him, and I disliked him on principle. When I learned he was dabbing in blood magic, I wanted to volunteer to be the one to execute him, and when he fled I often dreamed to be the one to find him and bring him to justice. Ewan was right, mine was an obsession, but I never really knew the guy. Now I was starting to consider him... a friend. I was seeing him as the good man he was, and sometimes I even forgot he was a blood mage. I didn’t know what I was expecting him to be like. I probably imagined blood mages were constantly plotting evil schemes, summoning abominations and communing with the Fade to find demons to build armies and unleash plagues and horrors on the land... Jowan was a normal person; a little awkward, easy to talk if not a little whiny when he was targeted by Ewan’s sharp tongue or my bitter remarks. And he was kind: he was more supportive than Ewan when it came to my situation and I believed his sincerity when he said he wanted to help.
Maker help me, Andraste forgive me! I was so confused... I had to get it out, to tell them, explain what I felt, what I had experienced... maybe Ewan was right, maybe I was under the influence of something...

That evening, when we stopped to camp, I decided it was time to breach the subject.
“The whispers are gone.” I said.
“What whispers?” Ewan asked alarmed.
“It was... there wasn’t really someone whispering in my head, but now I feel like I got out of a crowded room. I don’t remember when it started, I guess it was in Kirkwall, but maybe before that. I had nightmares for a year after what passed with Uldred, but it was getting better. I didn’t even have a setback when I found myself involved in a blood mage’s conspiracy that intended to infiltrate the order with abominations posing as templar recruits... Had that happened one year before I would have killed all the recruits with my own hands to prevent any further... corruption. Instead, I even allowed one of the young men who were kidnapped to take his place back in the barracks, albeit denying him full knighthood and putting him on probation.”
Ewan looked surprised: “That’s a lot of progress from attacking kids because they cut their fingers on your sword.”
I grimaced: “Ugh, Anders told you?”
Ewan nodded and motioned for me to go on. Jowan gulped, a little scared, but didn’t say anything.
“Well, I admit I was proud of myself... I was happy I was getting out of my funk, I was finally free from the nightmares and getting my life back on track... that lasted until the Qunari attack.”
Both Ewan and Jowan nodded. News of the Arishok uprising must have traveled across the Waking Sea.
“Things started to change from then: the nightmares returned, and I started to see potential dangers everywhere. It was like I was back in Uldred’s illusions, and Knight Commander Meredith’s missions didn’t help either: she sent me on many searches in this or that mage’s quarters to look for artifacts, proofs of blood magic rituals and studies over demons...”
“That’s just paranoia.” Ewan frowned. “Did she have any proof to begin with?”
“Just suspicions.” I admitted, “Thrask, one of the Knight-Lieutenants started suspecting she was slowly becoming insane, but I defended her, I thought... I thought she was right. She had to be right somehow...”
Jowan and Ewan exchanged a glance. Jowan shook his head: “This sound crazy. Yes, it could be something... or someone, was affecting you, and probably the same thing is affecting Meredith... but I doubt it’s a demon or a blood mage, you would have identified them if it was. I mean, your obsession was exactly that, I can’t believe a blood mage or an abomination fueled it.”
“Unless it wasn’t something with a conscience.” Ewan objected. “I keep thinking about the red lyrium idol Anders mentioned in his letters...”
I nodded: “You already mentioned it before, but I’ve never seen something like that in the Gallows. Lyrium is not uncommon in the underground of Kirkwall, thought I've never seen a red variety. If it was lyrium poisoning, the whole city should be affected by obsessions and paranoia.”
He glanced at me smirking: “Wouldn’t it?”
I rolled my eyes: “Well, there are a few people in the city that... well, take it too far.”
Ewan laughed: if Anders was really writing to him regularly he probably knew about what had transpired in Kirkwall in the last four years: conspiracies, plots, secret societies, prophecies of apocalyptic disasters... The Qunari uprising and the demise of Viscount Dumar were just the tip of the iceberg: the Viscount’s son Seamus, for one, was killed by a chantry sister because he had talked about joining the Qun...
Jowan, however, missed the joke: “I don’t understand, what’s life in Kirkwall like? Every time you speak of the place you always associate it with such a doom you make it sound like the Blight was a walk in the park.”
“Well,” Ewan chuckled, “Let’s say Cullen would qualify as sane in that city.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I grumbled, “Weren’t you born there, by the way?”
“There is a reason mother and grandfather insisted I was shipped to Kinloch Hold when they realized I was a mage!”
We all laughed. The conversation turned to a lighter tone from there, with friendly teasing and joyous roughhousing between the two mages. I was filled with melancholy at the sight: I remembered I had seen them this way many times during the years, and I couldn’t help but feel a stab of jealousy. I was jealous of their relationship, of their shared history, of the fact that they were grown up men scarred by life and the horrors they had witnessed or caused - just like me - but they still could act like teenage boys.
I was always drawn to them, at first because they were Eloise’s best friends in the tower and I had a major crush on the petite elf, but now I realized I longed to be like them. I longed to be part of them, of their group. When Meredith promoted me to Knight Captain, she told me it was in part because I oversaw the Hero of Ferelden’s Harrowing: she said often a special bond is formed between a mage and the Templar that assists him in his Harrowing, because their spirit connects at some level in the Fade. She thought since Ewan became such a symbol to the people, I could be considered his Templar counterpart and be an inspiration to the Gallows’ knights.
Was it this what I was feeling? The ‘bond’ of the Harrowing? I realized I didn’t care. In little more than a week they had shown me more support and care than I had ever received since Gregoir was mentoring me, and even then we tried to keep a sort of professional distance between us. Despite that, I came to see my Knight Commander akin to a father figure...
Ewan froze in the middle of the playful wrestling he had engaged in with Jowan, his expression morphing into a mask of panicky terror. I shot up and knelt beside him as Jowan froze too noticing the apparent panic attack of his friend.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“Ewan, are you all right?” Jowan echoed.
Ewan was staring in the distance, his expression a mix of pain and disbelief. “This cannot be...” he murmured, “It doesn’t make sense, it’s impossible.”
“What?” I asked.
“I sense...” he gulped leaving the sentence unfinished as he stood up. He looked distracted, as if he was listening intently to something.
“No, no, no sensing, Warden...” Jowan whined, “This is not funny, really not funny...”
“What is it? Darkspawn?” I asked. My hand reached for the sword, before I realized it was still in their custody. I glanced around and retrieved it from Ewan’s backpack to which it was tied, along with my shield. Better be prepared: it wasn’t uncommon to encounter stragglers of the darkspawn horde, remainders of the dark army summoned by Urthemiel wandering in the southern wilderness, away from civilization... and we were south and isolated enough to qualify for such encounters.
“The Song.” Ewan murmured, “I’ve never heard it before, not even during the Blight... not even in the Dead Trenches where I saw him, not once when I dreamed of it...”
“What song?” Jowan asked.
Ewan took off running through the woods before Jowan could stop him: “Wait!” he yelled. The warden had already disappeared between the trees.

After a split second both Jowan and I started following him. We ran for a couple of hundred yards before we started to hear it too. It wasn’t a song, it was a muffled roaring. We sped up to catch up with Ewan who had finally stopped at the border of a large clearing. There was a large free space there, a large ravine with a small creek at the bottom, and on the bank of the creek there was a High Dragon. The beast didn’t act as if it had seen us, but we took a step back anyway as I readied my sword and Jowan his staff.
It was the first time I had seen such a beast, and I thought the same for Jowan, but I could tell there was something off with it... it was just wrong. Were dragons supposed to have as many teeth as that one had? Possibly, but sticking out in all directions? And the scales... some of them were sticking out of the body instead of making a uniform surface like all the reptiles I had seen. It looked sick, ill... corrupted.
Finally I understood what had Ewan so upset. But it was impossible, wasn’t it? I gulped remembering the Chant:

The Old Gods will call to you,
From their ancient prisons they will sing.
Dragons with wicked eyes and wicked hearts,
On blacken'd wings does deceit take flight,
The first of My children, lost to night...”

The dissonant verse of the Canticle of Silence 3:6. I had read it once, even if I wasn’t supposed to, and the verses kept haunting me even if I was supposed to forget them.
That creature was an Archdemon.
“That’s not possible.” Ewan hissed frantically, “There’s no way they found another so fast. Where are all the darkspawn then? He’s not even supposed to be here, there’s no Prison nearby, who woke him? How did he get to the surface so fast? No, this thing can’t be...”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“What is this creature?” Jowan whispered.
“I know what’s not.” Ewan looked closer to panic, “This is not an Archdemon. It can’t be, it simply can’t be, the darkspawn can’t have found one in so little time, it takes centuries of digging, even if they knew the...” his eyes widened and he slapped his forehead, “Dammit!” He fell on his knees and started sobbing, “Fucking bastard” he yelled, “you promised to end them, not starting another!” he slammed his fist on the ground, “I knew I should have killed you!”
Jowan and I grabbed him and dragged him back into the forest to avoid his little outburst from attracting the attention of the dragon. He struggled to get free of our grasp: “Let me go!” he growled, “I’m a fucking Grey Warden, I don’t need either of you babysitting me!”
“Ewan you’re being too loud, it’ll hear us!” Jowan whispered. “And you’re not making any sense either! I’m sure a fucking Grey Warden could understand what you’re saying, but we’re not!”
Ewan sighed and shook his head, glancing at the edge of the ravine. We could still hear the dragon growling behind it, and Ewan shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. If it was true that Grey Wardens sense the darkspawn, he had a Fade of a lot of sensing going on, and I couldn’t even start to imagine how the song sounded in his head. Was it anything like the whispers in mine, when I was in Kirkwall? Maker, I hope not!
“I... there is a darkspawn who who was looking for the Old Prisons.” he started explaining, “He’s an... aware darkspawn. Calls himself the Architect. I encountered him, he was experimenting with freeing the other darkspawn from the Song... the call of the Old Gods that drives the ‘Spawn to them.”
“The Old Prisons? You mean...” I gasped.
“The resting places of the Old Gods, yes.” he nodded. “I have learned about them recently myself: apparently the Wardens do know the locations of the Prisons but they can’t reach them. They tried during the Centuries, but never managed. All they can do is keep an eye on the sections of the Deep Roads where they are located and be ready if a Blight happens.”
I shuddered. I felt like he was revealing part of a secret I shouldn’t have known, and it was probably true.
“What do you mean by ‘aware’ darkspawn?” Jowan asked.
“A... darkspawn that still retains his consciousness. There are a few of them, I believe...” he gulped, “I believe he was one of the original darkspawn. One of the Magisters.”
Jowan and I glanced at each other worried. We were having far too many insights of the Grey Wardens’ secrets and I was coming to realize why they were secrets in the first place. Had we know all this...
I felt guilty for what I had thought about Ewan, he was carrying a far bigger burden that I was, being the commander of the Grey. In comparison, my role as second in command for the Gallows’ Templars looked like a walk in the park: at least the biggest secret I had to keep consisted of some dissonant verses of the Chant of Light...
“Enough of this.” Ewan growled, “I have to kill that thing. Archdemon or not, it’s too dangerous to risk it...”
“Of course we do.” I stated. He turned to me surprised and I wondered for a second if he had expected us to leave him to face the beast alone.
“That’s exactly what you don’t have to do, Cullen. If that thing is an Archdemon, only a Warden can truly kill him, if anyone else did it they would just make things worse...”
Jowan frowned: “What do you mean?”
Ewan sighed: “When an Archdemon is killed, his soul travels to the next blighted being to possess it. Darkspawn are soulless vessels, so the Archdemon can reincarnate, but Wardens are not. I bear the darkspawn taint: if the soul of the Archdemon finds my body, it would be destroyed, but I can’t predict what would happen if any of you two would deal the final blow. It may find another darkspawn or ghoul to possess, we can’t risk that. This is the reason the Grey Wardens were founded in the first place, during the first Blight: Dumat has been killed many times without stopping the Blight, only a Warden can truly end one without the Archdemon returning.”
“And... what happens to the Warden’s soul in this process?” I asked. There was only one possible answer, but the fact I was talking to Ewan excluded it...
“It... it is destroyed as well.” Ewan admitted.
“Wait a minute...” Jowan had come to the same conclusion I had, “You already killed one of them. How did you survive?”
Ewan lowered his gaze in shame: “I made a deal.”
Jowan and I glanced at each other. What kind of deal could possibly save his life? Had he really killed Urthemiel? Was the Archdemon still alive?
“The night before the battle” he explained, still unable to look us in the eye, “I performed a... ritual with my friend Morrigan. I got her pregnant, so the Old God’s soul traveled into her womb, possessing my child’s... body instead of mine. He bears a trace of the taint, but his soul wasn’t... formed yet. Morrigan assured me he’s fine and he wouldn’t become an Archdemon, he’d just... preserve the Old God’s soul into an untamed new vessel... my son.” He lifted his head, his eyes glistening from tears of shame: “That’s how I survived. The ‘Hero of Ferelden’ is just a fraud...”
Jowan shook his head: “Wait, what sort of ritual did you perform? I’ve never read anything like that except of an ancient elven legend, but even if that was true, that would be friggin’ ancient magic! How would your friend Morrigan know anything about it? It’s a knowledge lost centuries ago, we’re talking of Arlathan times here!”
“Morrigan is Flemeth’s daughter.” Ewan explained, “A centuries-old witch who’s beyond the abomination status: I had a glimpse at her Grimoire once and I can assure you I she had knowledge of spells I had only read about in the legends. I doubt there is something such a lost knowledge when she’s around...” he sighed, “But we’re wasting time here. I don’t know why that thing didn’t sense me yet, but I know I have to kill it before it starts to become a bigger problem...”
“I doubt it’s a real Archdemon.” I said, “During the last blight the sky turned dark and hordes of darkspawn swarmed from the deep roads... I see nothing like that here.”
“No, you’re right.” Ewan admitted, “But... you don’t hear it like I do, you can’t hear the Song. I can, and if I can, darkspawn can too. Whatever it is, it’s a force that can rally the darkspawn, and even if it won’t cause a Blight it can cause a lot of problems. And if it is indeed an Archdemon... I have no way out this time.”
A thought occurred to me: “You didn’t sense it before. Not until a couple of minutes ago.”
“No.” he admitted, “Perhaps he’s just awakened, perhaps he just surfaced and his call is too weak to be heard from underground, but...” he sighed, “Enough of this, we’re just wasting time. We’ll know soon enough if he’s the real thing or just a blighted high dragon.” He smiled sadly. “If... If he really is what I think he is, collect his blood after I kill him, and bring it to Vigil’s Keep, they’ll know what to do with it. And tell Nathaniel Howe what happened. He’s in charge now.” He turned to me: “I want to be buried in Ferelden. This is my home, even if the Wardens at Weissaupt have a tomb ready for me at Garahel’s side. Can you do that for me?”
I nodded once and he smiled warmly. Jowan tried to stop him, but he unsheathed his sword and shouted: “For the Grey Wardens!” before taking off towards the ravine.
The growl of the dragon echoed on the rocks the moment it spotted Ewan sliding town the brim. Jowan and I were paralyzed, unable to move.
“We have to help him.” Jowan whispered.
“Didn’t you hear him? We can’t kill it. If that thing is an Archdemon...”
“Then we’ll let Ewan deal it the final blow, but I won’t leave him fighting a potential Blight all alone, Cullen!” he hissed at me.
“What makes you think we can make a difference? At best it’s a high dragon, have you ever fought one?”
“No, have you?”
“Not even in my dreams.” I sighed. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
Jowan smiled: “Whatever it is, it has blood, I can fry it.”
“And I sense mana.” I admitted, “So I probably can smite it.”
We took off after Ewan and joined the ongoing fight.

Every child in Thedas dreams of becoming a Grey Warden when he grows up. It’s not a dream everyone’s willing to pursue, but at least once in your life one fantasizes about joining the order and becoming part of the glorious legends that surround them, fighting epic battles, being venerated as heroes that rain death from their winged steeds... when you discover the griffons have long been extinct, a part of your childhood ends. Life takes you elsewhere, you become a farmer, a merchant, a soldier - provided that you’re not a mage or your parents didn’t hand you over to the chantry, of course - but those dreams remain buried inside your soul and accompany you alongside all the other foolish fantasies you never confessed, even to your siblings...
Then, in your lifetime, you chance to cross the path of a Grey Warden.
It can be a chance meeting, due to events greater than you and your common life or perhaps a simple tick of destiny... or maybe someone you know gets recruited... and you discover the Grey Wardens are common peopleThey aren’t heroes larger than life; they’re just like anybody, insignificant even. Their status brings them honor and fame, they’re said to be only the best of us, but they’re still... insipid. Trivial. And you start wondering “Why?” “Why them, and not me?” “Are they really so special?” “What have they seen in them that they haven’t seen in me?”
Your childhood ended a long time ago, but you still feel betrayed: “Why did I ever want to be one of them?”
But then, you see them in action. You see them rise and fight. You know the legends aren’t true, but you understand why they were born.

When Jowan and I reached the bottom of the ravine, Ewan had already engaged the beast. It wasn’t moving, and the rocks on its feet made us understand why: he had cast a petrify spell and it was struggling to get free from it as Ewan was dancing around it slashing at the limbs of the creature. The spell wore off and Ewan jumped backwards to keep his distance from the wounded dragon. The beast screamed in pain as black ichor poured from the unfrozen wounds, and swayed slightly as it repositioned its weight on the offended claws. Jowan stopped behind me, his staff in his hands, and started chanting a spell. Had I been in another situation I would have wondered what kind of magic he intended to use and frowned upon his possible use of blood magic, but instead I found myself hoping he’d hit him as hard as he hit me back in Dragon’s Claw, whatever the power he was going to use. Fade, I wouldn’t have flinched had he turned abomination right in front of my eyes if he had hit that thing hard and fast.
I whispered the Holy Words myself and smote the dragon. The beast turned its head at me surprised, and I noticed the power was effective: the dragon looked dizzy, confused. Too bad it decided to fire blue flames in my direction.
A wave of telekinetic energy ran past me, shielding me from the fire burst. Vaporized red drops of blood had me turning: Jowan was shielding me with blood magic. I had seen the day!
I exploited the moment to move closer to the dragon, and Jowan covered me by casting a Stonefist at the creature. The creature seemed to react to my templar powers in a way similar to mages, so when I got close enough to flank him and I struck my sword slashing between its ribs, infusing some power to inhibit his use of mana... or whatever the energy was that fueled its magic.
I had lost sight of Ewan, then the Dragon turned and fired another burst of blue fire at him: he had moved behind the dragon, and he was now flipping himself between the jet of dark fire and the spiked tail that was swaying frantically around.
I stilled, speechless for a moment: I never thought he’d be capable of such acrobatics... did his Crow lover teach him that move? He was fighting like a bloody Archdemon himself, which was more than the instinct of a warrior, or the ability of a rogue, or the power of a mage. It was something beyond words: pure willpower and determination, the adamant resolution to accomplish his mission. For a second I felt like time stilled itself as he stopped just in front of the creature’s chest and concentrated before releasing an outburst of fire that had the creature recoil in pain.
These are the Grey Wardens I thought, as Ewan exploited the lowered guard of the dragon to run towards it, instruments of demons and the Maker, forces to reckon with. I felt lucky to witness this fight.
As Ewan climbed over the creature’s neck slashing and slicing chunks of rotten flesh from it, I came to understand. I had known their mission, I had witnessed their force, I even had a glimpse at their burned, but now I had understood the Grey Warden’s motto.

In war... victory.
In peace... vigilance...

Exploiting the momentum, Ewan had climbed on the creature’s neck and now was behind its head. He threw away the dragonbone-made sword and raised the glowing metal one with both hands before pushing it into the dragon’s skull with all the force he could. The Archdemon - or whatever it was - let out a strangled scream sputtering gallons of black ichor.

In death... sacrifice.

In a spasm of death, the beast’s neck snapped backwards, propelling Ewan like a trebuchet. His blood soaked hands slipped over the sword’s hilt and he was fired against a tree. He hit it hard with his back, and blood splattered all around, though neither Jowan nor I could tell if it was his or the dragon’s, probably a mix of both.
Inertia had him pressed against the tree trunk for a second, then both him and the Archdemon fell on the ground at the same time, both now a motionless mass of flesh covered in blood.
Jowan and I couldn’t move. Even if the beast wasn’t an Archdemon, the impact on the trunk had likely killed Ewan. What would happen now?
Jowan was the first to snap out of our funk: “Ewan!” he shouted and - always the healer - he ran towards his friend, his hands already glowing. I shook my head and reached them at a slower pace: there was no way the Warden had survived a hit like that, even with his armor.
I was at loss for words, seeing Jowan quietly sobbing over his dead friend, cradling his head on his knees and murmuring encouragements to wake up, say something, show any sign of life.
“Jowan, I...” I began, but I couldn’t actually say anything. How do you express your condolences to someone you tried to kill and you probably will have to arrest? With Ewan’s death, everything changed: I had no guarantee that the Wardens would have welcomed Jowan, or that I had still a place in the templars...
Magic.
It was a faint pulse, but clear enough to identify Ewan as the source. I had felt it before, the night he entered the Fade during his Harrowing.
“He’s alive.” I gasped.
“What?” Jowan’s head snapped up, his eyes moist with tears pleading me to tell him the truth.
“I can sense his magic, he’s still alive.”
“Then why doesn’t he wake up?” he asked rubbing away his tears and sniffing. “I healed him, why doesn’t he wake up?”
“He... I think he’s in the Fade” I said doubtfully.
“How can you tell?”
“I don’t know I just... feel it.”
A snap had us both turn alarmed. The bushes in the forest were shaking in the wind, and the Archdemon had disappeared.
“Where did it...” I started, but Jowan pointed a mass of limbs and rags on the ground.
“There!”
I frowned: had the “Archdemon” turned into something else after its death? How was it possible? But it was true: Starfang, Ewan’s Sword was still stuck into that creature’s body. I stood up to go examine it, but the bushes shook again and a noise between a hiss and a growl echoed in the clearing.
“Maker’s breath!” I whispered.
“Andraste’s shit!” Jowan rebutted.
It wasn’t the wind.

Ewan
I didn’t feel pain, and that was both good and bad. Oh, it had definitely hurt, a pain akin to the one I had felt on the top of Fort Drakon as the Archdemon’s soul ran through me before I felt it slip away and - I guess - enter Morrigan’s womb. The good news was the pain had subsided leaving me just dazed and numb. The bad news was that if I wasn’t feeling any pain I was probably dead.
I opened my eyes and I had trouble to focus: the light was different, abnormal, I couldn’t tell if I was seeing hues of green or pink...
Fuck. I knew where I was.
“Hello young man.” a familiar voice said. What was she doing here?
I lifted my head with a tremendous effort: “What? Where am I? Did I...?”
“...Kill it?” She completed. “Yes, you did. And you almost followed it.”
She was standing right before me, but I still couldn’t make any sense of her presence.
“Wynne?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”

This is a revised version of the story - not all parts match the comic version as they were adapted to the events and lore revealed after Dragon Age: Awakening. As it is, it may contain spoilers, hints or references at subsequent plots like Dragon Age IIDragon Age: InquisitionDragon Age LegendsThe Stolen ThroneThe CallingThe Silent GroveThe Last CourtThe Masked Empire and The Last Flight.

Here is the third chapter of a revised version of my comic In Peace Vigilance in the form of novel. If you want to know how the story ends, I suggest you to read it, as while I plan to continue the comic version and adapt it to this revised narration, I really have no deadline for it. When it will be up, I'll probably do a massive upload of the whole story, but in the meantime I decided to deliver it in this format.
This part has been more consistently rewritten compared to the comic version, as it's narrated from Cullen's point of view: it gives a better explanation of his presence here during the timeline of DA2, as a side-effect of the Lyrium idol that is influencing Meredith's mind for well over a year by now, as well as the possibility to expand the trip from the "Crazy templar" to the "Warden Buddy" that for page-number limit seemed a bit rushed in the comic (also because in the original version I had to cut out some scenes and dialogues I have restored here).
I also managed to fix some poor choices and renditions, like the aimlessly wander (not really, but now Ewan explains his reasons) and the fight with the "Archdemon". And I also had better quotes from the Chant of Light to include.

Previous chapters:  In Peace Vigilance - Chapter 2


II. Blood and Bound

Jowan.
The bannorn of Dragon's Peak is quite the place in late spring, when the green of the fields starts turning gold, and a warm breeze makes you forget we’re so south that we get stuck in the snow every other winter’s day. That's why I chose Dragon's Claw to settle down: it’s a small village near the bigger cities, the perfect place to hide in plain sight.
It is true, I'm a blood mage, a maleficar, but now I can finally tell I’m doing something good with my life.
My name is Jowan, but everyone here knows me as...
“Master Lewyn! Good morning!” Devin’s voice startled me. He’s a nice kid, one of the few who are never afraid of me, always tagging along while I do my usual rounds of the village to check on my patients and the elders. Not that the other villagers are scared of me, but I can tell my being a mage unsettles them, even if I’m their healer. They are friendly
 
Next Chapter: In Peace Vigilance - Chapter 4
IV: Promises of Pride
Ewan
“I’m dead.” Wynne said, “And you almost were too. We had only this chance to talk, and I couldn’t miss it.”
I shook my head confused while I stood up. Wynne... dead? Why was her spirit lingering in the Fade? We already had our farewell when she left for Orlais a couple of months before, what could she have to tell me that was so important as to keep her from reaching the Maker’s side and basking in the light and peace she so strongly believed in?
“I’m glad to see you again, Wynne.” I told her with a smile, “Though I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
She smiled kindly at me with a hint of laughter, and then I noticed a sparkling mass of wisps hovering just behind her. She noticed my frown and stood aside to let me have a better look. “Faith.” she explained, “My guardian spirit.”
“The one who saved you in the Tower?” I a


Special thanks to Wirls and Rowlina for proof reading and editing.
---
Disclaimer: This is a fan fiction based on the BioWare's videogame "Dragon Age: Origins" and its sequels and expansions. 
The story was originally scripted as a comic before "Dragon Age: Asunder" and "Dragon Age: Redemption" were released, this is a rewriting of the story, but I tried to keep it as similar as the original, including scenes that were originally cut and modifying what I didn't like or what was proved wrong in the sequels. I played all the games and documented myself through the novels, the codex entries, the official comics and the Dragon Age Wiki, so if the comic explicitly contradicts some established lore it's because I decided it would fit the story better. If you intend to educate me on the True Dragon Age Lore, introduce yourself as David Gaider or save your keyboard.
All characters, except those not fitting the game belong to Bioware; their rendition is not to consider canon but a personal interpretation based on the work of the original writers. Aed Amell is a character created by emedeme and used with permission. All other characters are mine, based on BioWare's background for the player character.
The story is a "fan fiction" so it's not part of any official lore: any lore that has not included in the game is to be intended as speculation or plot device. Feel free to accept these hadcanons and even use them yourself, but take them as they are. As the story is based on how I played the game, it contains elements that come from popular mods such as Ser Gilmore Companion NPC.
No copyright infringement is intended and no money transaction are required to read this story, so don't bother me about it.
© 2015 - 2024 Abadir
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