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chapter summary: following the trail, the party arrives in killarney. series warnings: mature (ish); canon typical violence, gore, horror, swearing. more severe warnings will be listed if and when we reach it.

CHAPTER IV Fen'an

They had been on the road for a few hours and dusk was beginning to settle in, the sky turning from hazy orange to the dark of night. A few clouds had rolled in earlier, heavy with rain, which had been steadily drizzling down on them for at least an hour.

“How much farther is it, Rogir?” Fen'an asked. He was tired and sore from hours in the saddle. And now he was also wet and miserable.

Up ahead, Rogir had taken the lead of their little train, riding a sorrel-coloured horse, looking surprisingly comfortable riding. Behind him rode Fen’an, who found himself seated on a dappled grey horse that had to be corralled into walking straight every so often. The sturdy draft horse Freya and Zora rode behind him was much more pliant at least.

“Not far now,” Rogir assured him. It was the same response he had used the last two times Fen'an had asked. “I think I’m startin’ to recognise the place now.” Well, that was new at least.

To be fair to the dwarf, there were a few more signs of civilisation beginning to crop up, with small clusters of houses appearing along the road. Alas, many of these houses looked abandoned, overtaken by the blight or just simply left to the elements. They rode on in silence for a few minutes, seeing no buildings at all, until suddenly they all seemed to appear at once, and the village of Killarney sprung to life around them. As they were planning to speak with Bann Leonora, they did not stop in the village, but Fen’an took the opportunity to look around regardless. Of all the places he’d visited in recent months, it seemed to be holding up surprisingly well, though there were signs of old fortifications lingering on the fringes of the village. Fen’an would have thought they would have taken them down but supposed that even without a Blight raging they served as a good deterrent for any monsters - human or otherwise - who might come crawling out of the woods.

As the woods thinned out, the castle they had been riding towards suddenly emerged out of the gloom, built upon a slight hill. As castles went, Castle Cawthorn was on the small side, square in shape and made of dark stone that would have given it a foreboding air, even if it hadn't been drenched in rain. It didn't have many distinguishing features but had a prominent gatehouse and a hefty portcullis blocking the way inside. Not the most impressive building to look at but even Fen'an could admire the fact it was a sturdy, impregnable fortress.

Riding up to the gatehouse, guards appeared at the top of it, shouting down for them to stop and state their business. Even from where they were above him, Fen’an thought they looked and sounded as wet and miserable as he felt. Rogir took the lead in explaining their reasoning for being there, his booming voice no doubt reaching the guards atop the walls with ease. Fen’an thought he did a pretty decent job of conveying what their mission was, even if he didn’t really see the point in the dwarven man pulling out the Inquisition seal he had. After all, it wasn’t like the guards would see it from where they were.

The group waited for a few minutes before the gate slowly began to rise, allowing them to enter. It did not ascend all the way up, just far enough so they could comfortably ride their horses through and not have to worry about spearing their heads in the process.

Although it hadn't looked like it from the outside, the inner courtyard was on the larger side. The castle proper sat directly in front of them, a stable to the left, and what Fen'an took to be a guardhouse if the number of armoured guards poking their heads out to look was anything to go by. Most of the soldiers seemed older but one shorter young man was standing among them, who glared at the group with outright hostility, rather than mere curiosity like the other guards. There was something about the young man that stirred up a strange sense of familiarity in Fen’an's mind. He did not know the man but something about him reminded Fen'an of himself. Was I like that once? He thought silently. A proud, green boy stood among veteran warriors, thinking he could take on the world.

Fen'an, like the others, brought his horse to a halt just before the steps leading up to the castle. As he jumped out of the stirrups, an elven man emerged from inside the castle, squinting down at the group from the top step. He was an older man, with long grey hair, dressed in plain robes. The most eye-catching thing about him was the pair of ornate, silver, spectacles he wore on a chain around his neck. The elven man proceeded to put the spectacles on, blinking a few times in adjustment before looking back at the group. Fen'an realised he hadn't been squinting in suspicion but simply because he could not see them very well.

“Greetings, travellers,” He said, warmly. For such a lanky man, he had a surprisingly deep and rich voice. “My name is Gavrin and I am the chamberlain of this humble castle. One of our guards tells me that you wish to speak with Bann Leonora. Is this correct?”

“It is,” Freya confirmed with a nod. “We're here to ask about a to-”

Gavrin held a hand out for her to stop talking. “Please, save that for the lady of the house. She is better equipped to answer your questions than I,” He explained. Gavrin’s eyes shifted to Rogir. “The guard said you bore an Inquisition seal, may I see it?”

Rogir nodded, climbing the stairs to give the elf the seal, as well as one of the official letters from Shrike. Gavrin examined them quietly, his expression remaining neutral the entire time, giving nothing away.

“Hmm, they seem official enough,” Gavrin said, handing back the items to Rogir. “You may come inside.” Fen'an was quick to begin climbing up the stairs but Freya and Zora lingered warily by the horses. “Do not worry about your mounts,” Gavrin said, smiling down at the two women. “Our horsemaster will ensure they are comfortably housed and fed.”

With their concerns allayed, Freya and Zora joined them and the four were led inside by the chamberlain. The interior of the castle was very dark and dank, illuminated scarcely by sconces and braziers dotted around, which seemed to provide more heat than they did light. Fen’an was surprised at how sparsely decorated the castle was. Even with how simplistic the exterior had been, this was still a noble’s house, he expected the interior to be a little more indicative of their wealth, but there was nothing. The only thing of note was a few paintings hanging on the walls. Most of them were simple landscapes but the most ornate of them - and the one that gave Fen’an pause - was one of a well-dressed man tenderly offering out his hand to a halla. After moving away, Fen’an continued to think about it, wondering if it was a symbolic painting perhaps. Shem were not known for being kind to halla, after all.

Gavrin eventually led them down a windowed corridor, ending at two heavy oak doors, which he proceeded to push open. The doors opened into a large, well-lit room, with a bay window directly opposite the doors which offered a further bit of natural light. The room was dominated by an abnormally large, round, wooden table, which could have comfortably sat at least twenty people, but currently sat eight people - nine if you included the swaddled child in one woman’s arms. To the right of the room, an aged mabari, lay in front of a large fire, briefly lifting its head to look at the new arrivals before returning to chewing a large bone. To the left of the room was a smaller set of doors, which Fen’an assumed led to a kitchen. Gavrin left the group by the doors and calmly walked over to an older woman with greying hair, who was sat at what would have been the head of the table.

As Gavrin leaned in to whisper into her ear, the woman watched the group intensely. Her expression gave little away except mild interest, though Fen’an felt as though her hazel eyes were staring into the very fibre of his being. “Iona,” The older woman said, once Gavrin had stepped back, turning to a red-haired woman sitting to her left. “Would you be so kind as to take the children upstairs?”

“Actually, I can take them.” The woman holding the baby answered in her place. She was a short, plump, elven woman, with gentle green eyes and mousy brown hair. Fen'an thought she was quite pretty but promptly felt bad for staring, given that she was caring for a baby.

There was a man next to her, who rested a hand on her arm. “Are you sure, love?”

“I’m sure,” She smiled back at him. “This little one is getting fussy anyway.” She gestured to the baby in her arms, who proceeded to make a gurgling noise, that particular sound when a baby was mere moments away from screaming.

“Annis, Corinna, go with your aunt,” The red-haired woman, Iona, said to two young girls sitting next to her. They made a little grumble at having to leave, likely preferring to stay and meet the new strangers, but otherwise went with little fuss. And sure enough, no longer had the four of them left the room, Fen’an heard the baby wailing in the hallway they had come from. After the wailing grew quieter, the older woman gestured to the table.

“Would you care to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, you don't have to give us dinner,” Freya said.

However, the woman was not to be dissuaded. “I won't let it be known that I don't treat my guests well!” She said, “Tell me, where did you ride from?”

“Redcliffe,” Freya informed her.

“Goodness, that's nearly a day's ride away!” The woman gasped. “Please, sit and eat, I insist!”

The four of them looked warily at each other before Rogir shrugged and became the first to sit down. Fen'an was the last but found he could not muster up the strength to argue or suggest they wait, finding that he himself was quite hungry.

“Gavrin, would you be so kind as to ask about four more plates being brought up?” The woman said, addressing her chamberlain. She paused to look back at the group. “Would you care for some dessert too?” She did not wait for an answer before telling Gavrin to add four desserts too.

The chamberlain smiled complacently. “As you wish, my lady.”

He gave a curt little bow before disappearing through the door that Fen'an had correctly assumed led to the kitchen. He wasn't gone for too long, likely staying long enough to deliver his orders, before rejoining everyone in the grand hall, taking his place at the dining table, quietly eating his meal.

“My chamberlain tells me you wished to speak with me?”

Ah, so she was the Bann. Fen'an had assumed such but it was good to have confirmation.

“We're quite happy to wait until after dinner,” Freya assured her. “Or if you would prefer to speak away from your family…”

Leonora waved her hand in the air. “I keep no secrets from my family,” She responded, glancing around at the three young men. “What you tell me you can tell to them as well.” The older woman proceeded to introduce her three sons, naming them: Hallis, Gareth, and Cley. They all took after their mother, sharing her same hazel eyes, and darker hair. They seemed amiable enough as well, save for the middle son, who stared at the group suspiciously, even whilst eating.

Just before any of them could explain their reasoning for being here, a young man emerged from the kitchen, carrying a large tray skillfully in one hand. On the tray were four plates, which he proceeded to place in front of the group along with a knife and fork. It wasn't a large plate and the portion was on the small side but even Fen'an could not ignore how delicious it smelt. On the plate was a slice from a pork pie, served alongside buttery mashed potatoes, carrots and leeks. The meal was served with a thick, dark brown gravy, which had been slathered generously over the potatoes and pie. Fen'an usually didn't much care for gravy but was glad it had been included, finding it prevented the pie from tasting too dry, as well as uplifting the taste of the meat and potatoes. As he and the others tucked in, Rogir, between mouthfuls, carefully explained their reasoning for being here, starting with their investigation in the Redcliffe Chantry and the supposed connection it had with this family and the thefts going on elsewhere in Ferelden.

“I hope you are not implying my family are thieves,” Gareth said with a sneering tone, glowering at Rogir. Fen'an was surprised he seemed the most defensive of this family; he was expecting such from the Bann or her eldest son, not the middle child.

“Oh, calm down, Gar.” The youngest brother, Cley, gave him a nudge with his elbow. “They think it's connected, not that we have anything to do with it.”

“We have a theory that they're actually lookin’ for the tomb on your land,” Rogir continued. “The elven artifacts they were trying to steal all came from the same clan who built the tomb.”

Leonora gave him an amused expression. “Who told you it was a tomb?”

Zora looked at the older woman in confusion, not understanding what could be funny in this situation. “Uh, the Chantry did?”

“Say no more…” Hallis said, rolling his eyes in his mother's direction.

Leonora nodded towards her son before looking at Zora. “It's a temple, not a tomb,” She kindly corrected. “Though I cannot blame the Chantry for not knowing this, it wasn't common knowledge outside of our family.”

“Why was your ancestor so insistent about maintaining this temple?” Fen'an asked, pausing from eating his meal. It had been a source of curiosity for him, ever since Sister Dorothea had mentioned such in Redcliffe.

“Why do you think?” Leonora countered. Fen'an was a little bit put off by the returning question so did not respond.

However, Zora was quick to jump in, taking a moment to ponder an answer before saying, “Love?”

“Love,” Leonora echoed, smiling at Zora. “My ancestor, Bann Darrien, was madly in love with an elven woman named Ellana. She was one of the last of her clan and had been offered a position in the household, helping to maintain the castle and the lands surrounding it. Most of her people did so begrudgingly but she did so willingly.” Fen'an scoffed a little at this and promptly received a gentle kick in the shin from Freya. Leonora did not seem to notice his scoff or was perhaps not willing to acknowledge it but he did notice Gareth shooting a glare at him for almost interrupting his mother. “Darrien could not marry her but after his first wife left him, the two of them took to living as though they were man and wife in the castle. The temple had existed for many years, long before my family owned these lands, and Ellana worried it would be lost to time or raiders now that her clan was gone. As a sign of his great affection for her, Darrien made sure that it was appropriately maintained, permitting the elves in his employ to go and visit as they pleased. Before he died, he wrote it into his will that the tomb was not to be desecrated. I'd like to say it has been upheld from his time until now, but alas, not all my ancestors thought so kindly of elves.”

Now that Fen'an believed. Although sceptical of her story, it did not seem as though she was lying, and it matched up with what they knew. Perhaps that would even explain the halla painting he had seen in one of the corridors too - symbolic, just as he had suspected.

“I’m not sure what these bandits are expecting to find there,” Hallis mused. As he put his knife and fork on his plate, becoming the first of his family to finish their meal, he turned to Gareth. “Didn’t you say a few months back that the place was unstable following a collapse?”

For the first time that night, Gareth looked something other than annoyed, shifting uncomfortably at the brief shift in attention to him. “Y-Yes,” He stammered, washing down his words with a heart gulp of his drink. “The inner sanctum at least. There was a small accident a few months back during which the entrance to the inner sanctum collapsed.”

“Did you not think to repair it?” Fen'an asked, surprised that with how much this family supposedly revered this temple, they would have left it to ruin.

“It's an old building,” Gareth snapped, returning to his defensive stance. “I would not want to risk further disturbances to the interior.”

Whilst it seemed his answer satisfied his family, there was something about his attitude and the way he spoke that troubled Fen'an. He could not put his finger on it but he suspected that Gareth was not being entirely honest, though he could not understand why he would have reason to lie. Unless, of course, Gareth had been responsible for the disturbance he mentioned. Perhaps he had taken something from inside the temple and had knocked down the entrance to cover his tracks. Looking at him now, Fen'an wouldn't have put it past him.

One by one, the rest of those at the table finished their meals. Shortly before the young man who had brought the group their meals returned to gather their plates, the mabari by the fire came sniffing around, no doubt looking for scraps off the table. It lingered the longest by Rogir, who gave it an affectionate scratch behind the ear, before giving it a small chunk of leftover pie from his plate.

“Fine hound you have there,” Rogir remarked, watching as the mabari moved away.

“His name is Dog,” Leonora said. “Creatively named by my granddaughters.” She rolled her eyes in amusement. With a click of her fingers, she summoned the mabari to her side, and the beast rested its large head on her lap. “Do you have any?”

“Mabari? Just the one,” Rogir confirmed. “We named her Rosie.”

“That's a nice name,” She smiled, petting her own hound all the while. The woman remained silent as the plates and cutlery were removed, with the young man assuring them all that dessert would be brought up shortly before disappearing back through the door.

“If you truly believe that the thefts and the temple might have a connection, I am willing to grant you permission to have a look around,” Leonora offered.

“Mother!” Gareth protested. “You cannot just let these strangers poke around. You hardly know them, what if they're lying?”

Leonora gave her son a sideways glance. “They don't seem as though they have reason to lie,” She said. Despite her attempts to reassure her son, Fen'an couldn't help but think Gareth, for all his attitude, had a small point. “If you're concerned, you and Cley can accompany them to the temple and make sure they don't do anything they shouldn't.”

“That sounds fine with me,” Cley nodded. Gareth seemed less convinced but slowly nodded to show he was in agreement.

With that settled, the young man from before, alongside a woman, came from the kitchens, carrying two trays between them, with which several plates were stacked upon.

“I’ll take a slice to Osrun and the girls if that's okay,” Cley said, rising from his chair. His mother nodded her head, giving him permission to leave. He slipped into the kitchen briefly, coming back with a tray of his own, with three plates, which he proceeded to add his own to before leaving.

As the plates were set down, Fen'an admired the cake. It seemed to be a simple vanilla cake at first, covered in dark chocolate icing, with whole hazelnuts sitting on the top of the cake, and ground-up hazelnuts spread towards the base of the icing. Fen'an was certain he could detect a faint coffee odour emanating from it too.

“Is this a Nevarran hazelnut torte?” Freya asked, a hint of genuine excitement in her voice. Fen'an noted she didn't wait for an answer before getting a spoonful of the dessert, quite literally sinking into her chair in delight.

Leonora chuckled softly. “It's a favourite of mine, I confess,” She explained. The woman proceeded to start eating it herself. “We don't always have the ingredients for it, especially now after the Blights, but it's always nice to have an indulgent treat every now and then.”

One by one, everyone began to eat, and even though Fen'an did not care for coffee, he found the torte to be quite pleasant. The eight of them enjoyed their meal quietly, engaging in light conversation all the while. Once they were finished, Leonora suggested that they wait until the morning to visit the temple, stating that the rain and the darkness of night would make it difficult to reach there. It was a fair point and even Fen'an had no issue with it - he was only just beginning to warm back up from being outside in the rain. After dessert was finished, Hallis, Iona, and Gareth, all took their leave, after which Leonora invited the group to share a nightcap with her and Gavrin. They were drinking mulled wine, which Fen'an passed on, but since he didn't want to be the odd man out, Gavrin kindly fetched him some warm tea from the kitchens. The six of them drank in peace before heading to bed, with Leonora letting them go on an optimistic note that they would hopefully find what they needed tomorrow. And for their sake, Fen'an hoped that came true.

#fic: revelation #dragon age #dragon age fanfiction #fanfic #dragon age oc #oc: fen'an #oc: rogir warreck #oc: freya marin #oc: zora amell

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