#Cherche Mahariel

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 5 - Map

Summary: It's the night before the final push, and Cahel Mahariel comes to the deep realization that he's sending people to their deaths before he's even come of age. Luckily, he doesn't have to do it alone.

---

Unsurprisingly, no one was up that night when Cahel found himself walking through the dark halls of the estate.

His bare feet made no noise as he padded along, heading towards what the group had turned into a makeshift war room. There was no light, but he didn’t need it as he opened the door and crept through to where he had spent so much time earlier.

A large map of Ferelden was spread out on the table, marked where people had seen darkspawn and where they were planning to go next. Figures were laid in strategic positions with care – one for the mages, one for the dwarves, even one for the Dalish. The smallest of them, the one that represented the Grey Wardens, was pointed straight at Denerim itself.

They were heading out the next day to face down the Archdemon.

Just thinking about it made Cahel’s heart catch in his chest. Talking about it had been one thing – even planning hadn’t brought this feeling on. All he could do was stare down at the map, taking in the details that he had all but hammered into his brain.

Their small force was the point of the spear – it made sense, given they were the only ones who could kill the damn thing and make it stay dead. Everyone else was there to take on the darkspawn and clear the way for the Wardens to get their shot at the Archdemon.

So many people… how many of them were going to die in the next couple days?

“Shit…”

Cahel was no stranger to death, especially not after the year he’d gone through. He’d seen dead men, women, and children nearly everywhere he went, killed by the darkspawn or taken over by the corruption from an unfortunate crossing. Corpses were littered all across Ferelden by then, some of them killed by his own hand, and they were only the start.

“How many people am I going to get killed tomorrow?”

The question slipped from his lips as he traced the path part of their troops were supposed to take in the morning. It would be swimming with darkspawn no doubt, as they rallied to the final battle. How many would die in that fight, and how many more would have to choose between death and being tainted?

How could he ask that of them?

His throat tightened, and his eyes blurred as his shoulders shook. There was a world of difference between planning an attack and taking stock of what was going to happen. Maybe the others had been doing the math while they worked, but it was hitting him full on as he stood there, finding it hard to even breathe.

Right then, he couldn’t even bare to look at the map and how much death it was going to bring. Cahel pushed away and sprinted away from the war room. Portraits of long dead warriors passed as he ran down the hall, heart pounding in his chest as he sought fresh air and something other than the thought of death.

Somehow, he made his way outside to the garden. Due to the year of Blight, the trees weren’t looking as good as they could have, but their boughs were strong enough that they could hold his weight. He launched into the tallest one, scrambling his way into the branches high above the cold, dead ground.

Trees had always been comforting to him. Yet this one did nothing as he sat there, trying to control the beating of his frantic hummingbird heart. His mind was racing, his entire body tense. All he wanted to do was throw up, but that would just spread the taint to some poor servant who had to clean it up.

“I’m sending people to their deaths for a chance at the Archdemon.”

His voice came out shaky and high pitched as he buried his head in his knees. It was all too much at the moment – all the death that was going to occur. There was no guarantee that this was even going to work. People were dying for something that might not even happen.

How could he even ask that of them? How could he look them in the eyes in the morning knowing a large number of them were going to the pyre when the day was over? It was an army of soon to be corpses, and he was leading it.

“Fuck.” He sniffed back tears, feeling the knees of his leggings grow wet as his body shook. “This is so fucked up.”

“It is. You should be sleeping, da’len. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

A new voice drew his attention. Cahel sniffed as he picked up his head, glancing to the ground below. There stood Cherche, looking as though she had just woken up. Maybe she had caught him on a bathroom run.

Or maybe it was adoptive mother’s intuition?

“Oh, mamae…” He sniffed again. “Sorry, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

Cherche rolled her eyes as she climbed into the tree, settling in next to him. “You’re not exactly a bronco, da’len.”

She frowned at the sight of him. “I know it’s not an Archdemon dream, because Alistair and Miris are still asleep. What’s going on?”

Cahel felt a pang of shame rush through him as he glanced down at the tree below. Cherche had been part of the planning too – she had been the one to figure out where the Dalish archers should go during the fight. No doubt she had already run the math he was just getting to in the middle of the night.

She must think him a stupid child for not realizing it…

His voice shook as he started. “I… a lot of people are going to die tomorrow.”

“It’s part of war.” Cherche nodded. “But I get the feeling it’s just hitting you now.”

Cahel felt his cheeks color in the darkness as he managed a small nod. “It just hit me just how much death we’re asking for to try to get at the Archdemon. For all we know, they’re going to die for nothing…”

Too many people had died over that year for nothing. Mages in the tower, elves in the forest… he could still see dead dwarves in the deep roads when he closed his eyes. The dead chased him as much as the Archdemon in his sleep – it was miracle he slept at all.

“They decided to fight, da’len. We didn’t conscript anyone to fight for this.” Cherche sighed though. “But… yes, we could fail tomorrow.”

His shoulders started to shake at that. “I know… but… shit. They’re looking to us to get at least some of them home.”

That caused Cahel’s eyes to water again. “I only know how to keep myself alive, mamae. I’m not some general, I’m just an idiot kid who doesn’t even have his vallaslin yet.”

Maybe that was why Marethari had never allowed him to attempt his final hunt back when he had been with the clan. Maybe she had seen he was still too immature and naïve to become an adult. It was only now that he realized she was right – he hadn’t been ready.

He still wasn’t ready.

“It… is a lot to put on you, yes.” Cherche pulled her arm around him and they sat there in the tree, staring out at the darkness. Somewhere, people were gearing up for an all out war against the darkspawn. “But you’re not an idiot, Cahel. An idiot wouldn’t have made it this far.”

She paused. “You’ve grown a lot this year. You might not have your vallaslin yet, but you’re a man now.”

That made Cahel chuckle wetly as he leaned into her shoulder. “If this is what being a man feels like, it sucks ass.”

“Well, you could always switch to being a woman instead.” Cherche’s tone was absolutely deadpan as her eyebrow cocked. “It’s basically the same, only the shems listen to you even less and they want you to get married.”

…

Something about that roused another chuckle from his lips as he closed his eyes. Yeah, that sounded pretty unappealing. Compared to that, becoming a war leader at 18 wasn’t so bad. Well, it was still bad… but still.

“I think I’ll keep to my preferred gender, thanks.” Cahel shook his head. “Thanks… I guess everything got to me.”

Cherche nodded as she squeezed his shoulder. “I’d be worried if you weren’t upset about it. Nobody’s sleeping well tonight.”

“Guess they just handle it better.” He sighed. “I guess we should get to bed. We’re starting the march early tomorrow.”

Slowly, he broke away from Cherche and climbed down the tree. His feet found the cold, dead ground without much effort, and soon he was starting to walk back towards where his bed was waiting for him.

It didn’t take long for his adoptive mother to catch up to him. “Just know you’re not alone with this anxiety, da’len. War isn’t easy for anyone.”

That caused Cahel to snort self-depreciatively. “Even for you?”

“I just cover it better, comes with the extra years.” For a brief second, he saw the same anxiety in her eyes, but she covered it well. “You’d have to be dead not to be worried. There’s a lot riding on this and we all have to do our part.”

Cherche paused, eyes hardening. “Which is why you’re letting me take the final blow if it comes to that.”

Right – they had discussed that among the Wardens when everyone had gone to bed. She was insisting on it in part due to her age and experience. While Miris and Alistair had agreed… Cahel wasn’t so sure.

After all, she had always taught him you take the shot when you see the opportunity. This was a bit bigger than a deer, but… if he saw it, shouldn’t he end things?

“Cahel, I can practically read your thoughts. No.”

Damn, apparently being a Warden made you psychic.

“I’ll do my best not to wind up in the position, that’s all I can promise once things get crazy.”

And it was going to get crazy. How could it not?

But still, Cherche seemed to accept that as they made it back inside. Judging from the sounds coming from within, he hadn't been as alone as he had previously thought. Something about that was oddly comforting to Cahel as he started towards where his bed was waiting for him.

At the last moment, he turned back to face his mother. “Mamae? Thanks… I needed that.”

“Thank me by staying alive tomorrow, da’len.” Her face softened briefly. “Sleep well. We’re both going to need it.”

That they would.

Cahel nodded as he broke off to go back to sleep. The anxiety was still there, but it was at a slightly more manageable level. No doubt his sleep would be troubled… but at least he knew he wasn’t alone.

That map was going to be real tomorrow. He couldn’t guarantee what was going to happen or if he would even survive. All he could do was keep his swords ready and hope that things worked out.

And… if he saw the Archdemon… well, he wasn’t going to miss that shot. If it saved some lives, he would do it. That was his job as a Grey Warden after all.

[ramblinganthropologist]

I'll... stick to my canon line or we'll be here a while.

Wardens

Cahel Mahariel - 18

Miris Tabris - 21

Cherche Mahariel - 28

Hawkes

Avery Hawke - 23

Moses Hawke - 21

Inquisitors (and Friends)

Kaaras Adaar - 24

Akri Adaar- 20

Jackel Lavellan - 18

Hissra Adaar - 30

Aeronwen Trevelyan - 21

Ian Trevelyan - 26

Owain Trevelyan - 35

How Old was Your Hero?

At the start of their stories, my kids were…

Wardens:

Blue Surana - 18

Isseya Mahariel - 19

Alyss Amell - 21

Kieran Tabris - 20

Nora Brosca- 22

Ronan Aeducan - 28

Cassian Cousland - 24

Hawkes: 

Akono, Henley, Claira - all started age 25

Inquisitiors:

Helios Adaar- 28

Xiaofan Cadash - 48

Revahel Lavellan - 27

Reblog with yours!

..or like, make your own post and tag me :) 

[ramblinganthropologist]

Final rites

Summary: It took a year, but Cherche and Cahel Mahariel are finally ready. They just need to get the soil to the same state. Digging a hole is easy... putting Tamlen to rest is the hard part.

(Set after Awakening)

---

The soil was cold and hard when he started digging.

Up above, it was a sunny day in the spring. All around, the world was coming back to life. Trees were in bloom, sending the sweet sent of their blossoms to the air. Birds chirped their greetings, the grass rustled with new cubs and fawns, and he…

Well, Cahel was digging a hole.

“Ground’s as hard as his damn head.”

At least he wasn’t alone. Next to him, swearing as she stabbed into the dirt with a shovel, was Cherche. In front of them, they had moved a decent amount of dirt. However, there was still more to go, and the soil wasn’t right yet for their purposes.

So, he kept shoveling.

“How far do you think we need to go until we’re past the Blight soil?” He frowned as he hit a rock and used his shovel to toss it to the pile of dirt above him. “It all still looks pretty nasty to me.”

Cherche responded with a shrug of her shoulders and another shovelful of dirt. “I’m a hunter, not a digger. We keep going until it looks like dirt.”

But if she wasn’t a digger, how was she going to know if it looked right?

Cahel didn’t say that though. To the surprise of many, he at last learned to hold his tongue sometimes. This was one of them, and instead he focused on clearing the would-be hole of tainted dirt, stained dark by the blood of darkspawn that had leeched down after countless battles from the year prior.

Hard to believe it was a year…

Sweat trickled down his brow as he leaned back for a second. Even with the dirt on his arms, he could still see the lightning bolt scars that snaked up from his wrists to nearly his shoulders. They were cold to the touch and had been since he had killed the Archdemon. Healers were pretty sure they would always be like that, but it wasn’t like there was much to go off of there. After all, no Warden had ever survived ending the Blight.

No doubt he was written up in a hundred books now finding their way across Thedas. Sadly, they’d never know why he’d survived – mostly because he wouldn’t tell them. Morrigan was owed that much secrecy in his mind.

“You can’t be tired already, da’len.”

He blinked back to reality – Cherche had stopped digging too, and she wore a strange look on her face. Most days he could read her, but lately she’d been a little difficult. Maybe it was repeated contact – in all forms – with her qunari lover, or maybe it was just the both of them falling into new duties. As close as they were, they didn’t spend all their time together. Maybe this was just growing up.

At any rate, he offered her an awkward grin as he grabbed his shovel. “Guess I zoned out for a second. Sorry, mamae.”

After that, they kept digging. Much to his dismay, the soil was still dark and stained with the fetid blood of the darkspawn that had died above it. If not for the fact he had bathed in the stuff the year prior, he probably would’ve been throwing up at this point. Lucky for him, he had gone mostly nose-blind to the stuff, so on he went one shovel at a time.

If they were lucky, they wouldn’t dig straight to the Deep Roads…

“Just so you know, I’m heading back to Par Vollen in a week.” Cherche threw another shovel of dirt to the pile above them. “Sten needs all the help he can get.”

Cahel’s stomach shifted, but he nodded. “I figured as much. Tell him I said hi and that I’m doing my best to keep the warriors in check here.”

Miris helped there, though not much. The senior warden wasn’t exactly a well-trained warrior. As a matter of fact, he was a whirlwind with a maul. It was great for solo combat, but it didn’t help when you were training newly joined Wardens who had never held a proper weapon before. Lucky for him, they had a few with more experience.

Unlucky for him, one of those warriors was Oghren… but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“You mean don’t tell him you’re getting help from a certain dwarf.” A smile quirked Cherche’s face as she threw a rock. When his jaw dropped, she laughed. “You’re not exactly subtle, da’len. Maybe once you get your vallaslin your face won’t be so easy to read.”

He doubted that, mostly because he had no idea if and when he was going to get his tattoos. The Blight was over, but he had lost track of his clan. For all he knew, Marethari and the rest of clan Sabrae could be anywhere. They could even be dead for all he knew, but he hoped against everything else that he was wrong there. At the least, he couldn’t contact them, and that meant that his keeper was out of bounds for the ritual.

So… he was kind of low on options.

“Maybe.” Cahel frowned as he stuck his shovel down hard and chucked the remains aside. However, he blinked after. “Hey… is that soil lighter?”

The patch he had just uncovered certainly didn’t look dark. More importantly, as he prodded it with his toe, it wasn’t clumped or compacted. To him, it just felt like fresh dirt. While he wasn’t a digger either, something about it made his heart feel light.

“Let me check.” Cherche ducked down, running some of it through her fingers. A pregnant moment passed, before her face broke into a rare grin. “Yeah, this is the good stuff. We just need to dig a bit further and it’ll be perfect.”

Cahel’s heart skipped a beat as he found a second wind he didn’t even knew he had. The next few inches of dirt flew, until they had both cleared a respectable patch of earth free from the grime of the Blight. Here, there was nothing but good soil.

Perfect for growth.

Cherche laid her shovel aside in favor of reaching for her bag. From it, she produced a small pouch, much like the one they both wore on their belts. She cradled it close as she brought it back down, joining him in the center of the hole.

“Well… hope he likes it.”

Her voice was quiet as she opened the pouch, tipping the contents into her hand. They had long since emptied it of most of its contents, but they had kept this one aside for this purpose. Thus, the sun above reflected the dull surface of the seed that rested in her palm, waiting to be buried.

A lump formed in Cahel’s throat as he glanced around. “Do you think it’ll grow without him here?”

It wasn’t like they had another option. Normally, they would have buried the seed with the dead elf’s body in order to help the resulting tree grow. But they didn’t have a body to bury – they had burned it after it had fallen.

His blood would’ve tainted the soil anyway… but it still left him cold thinking about it.

“If it’s anything like him, it’ll grow to spite us both and break the foundation with its roots.” A fondness leaked through her tone as she knelt down. Cahel joined her, and both their hands covered the seed.

It had taken a year… but they were finally giving Tamlen the rights he deserved.

“Da’len, this is all we can do for you.” Cherche’s voice was still quiet as she pressed the seed into the dirt. She then moved to the side to allow Cahel to pile the dirt on top to begin covering it up.

This was the point he needed to say something – a wish for his peace, a hope the tree produced would grow strong and true. Something to honor Tamlen’s memory and hope that he was finally at peace after the hell he had gone through.

Instead, his tears turned the soil dark.

“I’m sorry, Tam… we couldn’t help you.” Tears streamed down his face, and he made no move to wipe them away. “I’m so sorry, lethallin. You deserved so much better than to die like that… I wished I could’ve saved you…”

It was hard to say anything else as the sobbing took him over. All he could do was stay there in the dirt, crying over the grave that would never hold a body. This was the last thing he could do for his friend, and he was even messing that up.

Some friend he was. He couldn’t even bury him right.

“Not like I did much better, da’len.”

A soft voice, hard as ice, drew him back to reality. Cahel sniffed hard as he wiped his eyes on the back of his dirty hand – no doubt making himself muddy in the process. Over his shoulder, Cherche was standing back. Her usual unreadable face was… different.

She looked pained.

He sniffed again, this time for the mucus, as he stood. “You did your best, it was our-“

Cherche snorted, but there was nothing funny about it. “Tamlen was my apprentice. Some teacher I am.”

It was a tone he had heard once before, when she had glared at him upon regaining consciousness. She had been so angry with him when he had slayed the Archdemon, yelling it was supposed to be her job.

Her job… kind of like Tamlen had been.

His tears dried at last as he took a shaky breath. “Guess we’re not so over him after all, huh?”

“I’ve been told time heals all wounds.” Judging by the fact she still cringed whenever he pulled his hair completely out of his face, Cahel doubted that greatly. Still, they had briefly moved past the issue, ready to bury it much like the seed. “You definitely wet it enough, da’len.”

At that, his cheeks cover and he glanced to the side. “Just… helping things along, I guess.”

Was it his best lie? Absolutely not, but at that moment he needed all the grace he could get. After all, he was standing in a grave that would never hold a body. In odd situations like that, leeway was a given.

Cherche’s face lightened despite all that. “Oh, almost forgot…”

She grabbed her bag and dug through it for a few moments, before bringing out a small packet. Her touch was light, almost reverent as she approached the seed. Then they unceremoniously turned it on its end and dumped the contents on top. A dark powder soon settled, with its only remarkable feature being a chunk of white that almost…

Cahel blinked this time. “Are those…”

“Yeah. I grabbed some of his ashes after…” She shook his head. “Figured he should be with his seed, even if we couldn’t bring the body back proper.”

At last – it was a proper grave.

Cahel shook his head as they both reached for their shovels to begin filling up the hole. “You could’ve mentioned that.”

His mentor-turned-mother snorted as she worked. “What, admit to carrying around ashes? What am I, some kind of Andrastian?”

Yeah… good point. He’d concede that one to her.

It didn’t take them long to fill the hole full of flurry, non-Blighted soil. Before long, they were standing on a covered grave, with nothing to show for it but dirty hands and sore bodies. It was supposed to be different than this – the keeper would say something, people would be there to mourn.

Instead, Tamlen got two exhausted Wardens.

“I guess we should say something…” The lump was back in Cahel’s throat as he stared down at the covered hole. “I…”

Tears threatened his eyes again, but he swallowed hard. “Rest easy wherever you are, Tamlen. You deserve that much.”

It was all he could say in the end. What else could he ever mention about the man who had come so close to being his first love? It would’ve just rung hollow coming from him, so he kept it to himself.

As he stepped back, Cherche approached. “You were a fucking idiot for touching that mirror, lethallin.”

She swallowed, before adding. “Give them all hell, understood?”

And so spoke the final order of a teacher to her apprentice.

Around them, life continued. The birds still chirped, the grass rustled, and the clouds shifted above their heads. If nature noticed what was going on, it simply didn’t care. In a weird way, that was comforting.

Cahel allowed for a breath as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Guess we ought to head back to the Keep.”

He looked back briefly at the hole, before breaking off a nearby branch and stabbing it into the ground. No doubt it would fall with time and animal activity, but for the moment it stood there as a reminder should he want to come visit. In a few years, maybe there would even be a sapling.

Of course, the seed could die for all he knew… but he was hoping for the best.

“Yeah, I need to give Howe a few pointers in archery. His form’s gotten sloppy since I last saw him.” Cherche cracked her knuckles for emphasis. “It looks like a refresher course is in order.”

This caused Cahel to laugh as he fell in step behind her. “Oh, he’s going to hate that. He’s absolutely terrified of you, all the archers are.”

“The fear will teach them.” Her eyes were lighter. “Oh, and da’len? Don’t think that Sten is in the dark about you  using Oghren to train the warriors.”

…

Well,  shit.

Her laughter rang out now as they walked back to the keep. It was a harsh sound, one that threatened to rival the birds, but it was one he was happy to hear. Well… mostly happy. He had been trying to appear competent after all.

“And here I thought I was being subtle.”

Another snicker. “Hard to be subtle when your only options are a street brawler, a drunk, and a literal corpse.”

Hey, the literal corpse did a decent job of keeping his shield up… and Miris was pretty good solo…

Still, a lightness settled into Cahel’s heart as he spotted the spires of Vigil’s Keep. There would no doubt be heavy training ahead of him as he continued to rebuild Ferelden’s Wardens, but he could at least put this part of his past behind him.

He might not have managed to save Tamlen… but he had put him to rest. That was more than most victims of the Blight could say.

Now… time to watch Nathaniel Howe get his ass handed to him in an archery competition. He could hardly wait.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 13 - That's not the point

Summary: It was bad enough when Cahel Mahariel turned up on the Normandy. Now Alistair has to contend with two more Grey Wardens on his ship. Sure, he studied what to do in cases of first contact with an unknown species... but nobody ever expects it to actually happen to them. Some people have all the luck...

---

It was bad enough when there was just one of them. Now there was three. Did this count as an outbreak of a bio weapon?

“And this is the omni-tool. I coded our language into it, but I didn’t put everything in.”

“Nice going, squirt.”

Alistair could feel a vein in his forehead throb as he surveyed the scene in front of him. He had a front row seat to watching aliens experience new tech for the first time, and it was giving him a migraine.

It was only natural – their planet was locked down for the biohazard the locals called the Blight. Yet there they were, on his ship, creating a nightmare situation.

The first of them, a young man named Cahel Mahariel, was eagerly explaining the functions of an omni-tool to the Normandy’s latest arrivals. He had introduced the two as Cherche Mahariel and Miris Tabris and said they were both Grey Wardens like he was, which was part of the problem.

Wardens, as he was learning, carried the Blight with them in their bodies and around their necks. He could see both Cherche and Miris were wearing the same necklace that held a vial of the tainted blood. Apparently, they had drunk the stuff to become a Grey Warden.

If that had been his choice… yeah, just kill him.

“Alright, so we just strap this around our wrists and it works?” Cherche gave the omni-tool a skeptical glance. “Are you sure about this, da’len?”

Cahel nodded, beaming. “Yeah, it’s got everything. Little Shepard tried to nerf mine, but I figured out how to fix it.”

Apparently, not only was he learning modern tech at an uncomfortable rate, but he was picking up the slang. Maybe he should be worried about that…

Alistair sighed as he approached the three. They were still wearing their Grey Warden armor, which needed a deep decontamination before he could let them go into other parts of the ship. They also needed their vaccines, and… the to-do list was giving him even more like a headache. It had been bad enough with Cahel, but now he had to double-team it.

“Alright, I know this is a big ask, but I’m going to need to ask you to take off your armor so we can make sure nothing from your planet breeches the Normandy.”

Unsurprisingly, all three pairs of eyes were on him, reflecting the light. Apparently, elf eyes could do that. It made a shiver run up his spine, but he kept it off his face. That sort of thing was important for first contact.

“And why the fuck should we do that?” Miris crossed his arms over his chest. “That just makes it easy for you to take us out.”

Alistair resisted the urge to groan. “I know your planet hasn’t done germ theory yet, but you could be carrying things you’re used to but we’re not. You could make my men sick.”

“I had to do it when I first came here. They pop your stuff in this thing that washes them, and then you gotta go see the healer for the ouch sticks to keep you from getting sick from their space stuff.” Cahel was already unbuckling his breastplate. “What’re they called again, sticks?”

At least he had an ally.

“Shots, but you were close. Also, you get to sit out this round because we got you last time.” He turned to the two hold outs. “I know it’s a big ask, but the Alliance has strict decontamination protocols to protect the health of everyone on the ship. And we have clothes for you while you wait.”

Miris shot him a withering glance with the one eye he had. “We’re gonna get them back, right?”

Yeah, because he was going to keep old school chain mail armor because it was such a boon against the Reapers. The only place that’d want it was a museum – or again, the Alliance infectious disease department. No doubt it was full of fun bacteria they could study.

But no. He said they’d get it back, so they’d get it back.

“I’ll make sure to write down what belongs to who, don’t worry.” Alistair resisted the urge to sigh in relief. Even better, the door opened behind him as Bo appeared with clothes under her arm. “Awesome, did you find stuff that would fit them?”

She nodded and tossed appropriate bundles to each elf. “It was a pain in the ass finding it for the kid like always. I think I gave him some of your less awful shit.”

None of his shit was awful, thank you very much. Still, Alistair sighed and nodded as they stepped out of the room to allow their guests to disrobe and change into something more period appropriate.

On the other side of the door, he massaged his temples and sighed. “This is a nightmare.”

“Hey, as long as they’re not coughing on anyone until they get their shots, they’ll be fine.” Bo leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest. “So, the Grey Wardens are like Spectres then I guess?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Cahel told me their chant. Something about war victory, peace vigilance, death sacrifice. Apart from the death thing, it sounds close enough. I’m just glad we didn’t have to drink blood to join.”

Bo snorted at that. “Don’t tell the Council or they’ll start getting ideas.”

God forbid… maybe it was a good idea he was keeping that one to himself after all. Of course, that brought up telling the Council at all about their stowaways. Technically, all ships were to avoid the planet they called Thedas due to the presence of what he now knew was the Blight. It was one of the few planets that carried such a warning, which was probably why it was so behind when it came to tech.

He still couldn’t believe they used swords and plate mail. It was like something out of a video game…

“Hey, Little Shepard, Big Shepard? We’re all finished up, you can come get our shit.”

Cahel’s voice sounded through the door, causing Alistair to sigh in relief. He nodded as he stepped back to give them room to exit, glad they were playing along. Soon, the three elves made their way out, adjusting their clothes and looking uncomfortable without their armor.

And of course, Cherche and Cahel weren’t wearing shoes. He’d given up on that one long ago. But it looked like Miris was playing along. Then again, he had been wearing boots when he showed up, so maybe some elves wore shoes and others didn’t…

Whatever, as long as he could decontaminate their armor he didn’t care.

“Bo is going to take Cherche and Miris for their vaccinations with Dr. Chakwas. Cahel can come with me and take the armor to decontamination.”

His sister shot him a look. “Why do I gotta do it? You’re the medic.”

“I’m also the one who knows how to run the decontamination. You and tech don’t get along.”

It was true, but it was also a cop out. He didn’t want to do it, frankly. And since it was his ship, sometimes he got to get out of shit like that. It wasn’t often he was glad he was the commanding officer, but it was one of those moments.

After the three headed off to the med bay, Alistair and Cahel found themselves in the elevator with a lot of metal armor. It gave him a chance to look it over up close for the first time. Even though he preferred his set more, it was… nice, in a weird way.

What could he say, he liked the griffin on the breastplate. It was good work.

“So, the Normandy is your ship, right?” Cahel was holding onto one wall, and he looked a little green around the gills. Alistair was glad he wasn’t wearing one of his favorite shirts should he lose his lunch – he’d have to throw it out. “What do you call this nightmare again?”

“An elevator. We’ll be out soon.” Indeed, it dinged and opened up to the cargo bay where they kept the decontamination equipment. These he set up with a practiced hand before stepping back to watch it work. “There’s stairs for going back up if you don’t want another ride.”

The elf sighed in relief, ears going towards his shoulder. “Thank the Creators. How the hell do you deal with your stomach falling out like that?”

He sat on a nearby crate, bare feet dangling as he sought to get said stomach back. Alistair felt for him in that moment – he was no doubt used to much slower means of getting around. If not for the armor, he would’ve considered just going down the stairs.

But they needed the elevator for that.

“You get used to it, I probably couldn’t ride a horse if you tied me to one and told it where to go.”

Surprisingly, Cahel made a face at that. “I fucking hate horses, they’re all nervous as hell and their legs break too easily. Halla are way better as mounts.”

Alistair found himself chuckling at that. “You sound like the techs comparing if the Mako or Hammerhead are better.”

“What can I say, I’m Dalish. You can’t milk a horse, you just ride one and hope it doesn’t die mid gallop.” The elf hopped off the box. “My stomach’s settled. Let’s go make sure Miris doesn’t break anything because your healer triggers his reaver rage with those shots.”

Then he headed towards the steps, leaving Alistair very confused and more than a little worried. Nobody had mentioned anything about the larger elf’s condition, whatever the hell it might be. Maybe that was why he sped up to make his way back to the upper floors where the med bay was.

This was one of those times where he wished he had his gun on him, wasn’t it…

---

“Maker’s unwashed taint, the fuck is in that thing?!”

Miris’ voice boomed through the med bay as Alistair and Cahel stepped through. He was seated on the table, sleeve rolled up as Dr. Chakwas administered his vaccinations. Clearly, he wasn’t a fan.

“Ah, Commander. Your guest here is just about finished.” Chakwas shot him a knowing glance as she loaded up a new needle. “Now, Warden Tabris, if you could just stay still for another moment?”

The elf stiffened, laser focused on the needle. “Do I have a fucking choice?”

No, he didn’t. And he definitely jumped a little as he received the final dose. Briefly, his eye narrowed and Alistair swore his pupil retracted, but it was just for a moment. He then flexed his white knuckles and took a deep breath.

“That… hurt like shit.”

Cahel sighed in relief and shook his head. “Really? That’s all it took to trigger the rage?”

“It fucking hurt, squirt. I’m used to getting stabbed, not shot.” He seemed glad for the bandaid Dr. Chakwas put over his injection site, then he hopped off the table. “Thanks, I guess. I think I’d prefer dying to whatever you got up here.”

Yeah, Alistair had to wonder if he said that if he was going through tetanus… but he kept that to himself as he motioned for the two to follow him. Bo was waving at him from the entrance to the XO office, which was much quieter to have a conversation in that out in the open.

It was a bit cramped, but doable.

Once everyone was settled in, Alistair sighed in relief. Apart from some cursing and possible rage triggers, it was going smoothly. He still had no idea what he was going to do with them apart from drop them back onto Thedas, though.

He could only imagine the Council’s faces if they were to show up with them…

“Right, well, you won’t die now and we won’t die from you.” Bo got straight to the point. “Al, we going to the Citadel or what? This counts as first contact, right?”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Technically, yes. You’re considered unknown aliens by Citadel doctrine. The usual procedure is to bring representatives to the Council to make formal introductions…”

But then he trailed off. They had spoken enough about Thedas to get a rough idea of what was going on planetside. There were multiple nations, each with their factions and politics. Not only that, but there were also four separate races and groups within each. Add in orders like the Grey Wardens, and… getting a proper picture of the planet was going to be difficult.

“But you can’t really consider us representatives, right?” Cahel cocked his head to the side. “I hear about this shit from my Alistair.”

Cherche nodded. “And I get it from Sten. We’re not a good representative for Thedas because we’re all elves and Wardens.”

“Maybe we should bring Vigil’s Keep up for show and tell.” Miris snorted. “You’d get a drunk dwarf, a dead dwarf, a Dalish mage who hates humans, a human who hated the squirt, a human mage with containment issues, and a walking corpse. All we need is a qunari and we’ve got the set.”

Cahel chuckled as well. “Add in a surface dwarf and we’d hit the whole set. Oh, and I guess we’d need someone from the Chantry but honestly I’d be happy to leave them out. I assume no objections there?”

…

Had they talked about a walking corpse, or were they just messing with him? It was hard to tell what was true and what was them making jokes. Regardless, they had a point. It wasn’t a good representation of Thedas if everyone was from Ferelden and were elves, but it wasn’t like he could bring anyone else up.

The Council would really flip their shit if he did.

“Well, the Council got a bunch of jarheads when we burst on the scene, they’ll just have to fucking deal.” Bo shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the first time those fucks got a military force as their first taste of a species.”

No, it wouldn’t…

Alistair still massaged his forehead. “That’s not the point…”

Much to his surprise, Cahel grinned and whipped an honest to God knife out of… somewhere. “No, this is.”

Alistair could only gape. “Where the hell were you keeping that?”

“Lower back.” Supplied Cherche with a knowing glance. “You’re getting sloppy with your hiding spots, da’len.”

All Cahel could do was grin sheepishly as he stowed his knife in the pocket of his shorts. Meanwhile, Alistair’s headache was back full force, threatening to turn into a migraine. He didn’t  need this right now…

But it was what he was working with.

“Commander, our ETA on the Citadel is 2 hours. We stopping or what?”

Joker’s voice carried over the coms. Unsurprisingly, Cherche and Miris glanced around, trying to find the source of the noise. Cahel was used to this by now, so he kept level. It was amazing how quickly he adapted – maybe a good sign for continued contact if the Council asked.

Then again, he’d be lucky if nobody got studied by scientists by the time the day was done.

Bo nudged him in the side. “Well, Al? We going with these guys or pretending this didn’t happen?”

Alistair in the end sighed and dropped his head, feeling all of his 29 years. “Well, we’re too far from Thedas to pick up anyone else. Looks like you three are going to represent your entire planet.”

He shot them a pleading glance. “Please make good first impressions. The last time the Council had a new species, it was after a war with the turians. It doesn’t get much worse than that, believe me.”

It was probably best left off that it was his species that fought with the turians the first time they met. That would only encourage them.

Much to his relief, Cahel nodded. “Yeah, we can do that. I can represent the Wardens and Ferelden because my boyfriend’s the king. Mamae, you wanna handle being the Dalish envoy?”

“I can handle that and the Qunari.” Cherche left off how – he got the sense it was somewhat similar and was frankly, not something he needed to know. “How about you, Miris?”

Miris shrugged his shoulders. “Representing all elves in the alienages across Thedas, I guess. Might be nice to get in before the shems do honestly. Don’t ask me to do anything for Andraste, though, fuck if I remember anything besides her mabari and that they burned her.”  

He… wasn’t going to ask about that last one for his own sanity. Besides, given his god was crucified, he would have been a hypocrite.

But Alistair could take comfort in the fact that they had some kind of plan in place for when they made it to the Citadel. Maybe they would survive first contact after all. At least he knew he had to check them for hidden weapons before they actually got off the Normandy…

Also, they were going to need to hide their ears. It was kind of a dead giveaway that something was up. Why did he get the sense that was going to be one hell of a fight…

Fuck. He should’ve just dumped Cahel back onto Thedas when they first picked him up. It would’ve been so much easier.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 5 - It's a new day. Let's go

Summary: Alistair's still numb after Ostagar. Luckily, he's got some new Grey Wardens to help with that. Time for the Wardens to roll out - they've got a world to save.

---

Somehow, the sun came up despite everything that had happened.

Alistair stared blankly at the fire in front of him, sword at his side just in case. The trees pressed in all around him, blocking out most of the night. He only knew that it was morning because the sky lightened above his head, half blocked out by the canopy of leaves that choked out the sky.

He still couldn’t believe it had only been a few days.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the nightmare that was Ostagar. The darkspawn were seemingly endless, their fetid blood splashing against the ground and his armor as he cut through them to get to the tower. For a brief moment, he had felt hope that the battle might be won after all.

And then Loghain had betrayed them and gotten almost all of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens killed.

His fist clenched at his side. Thanks to the teryn’s cowardice – or worse, he didn’t know and he didn’t care – they were all dead. Only four Wardens remained of Ferelden’s forces, and three of them had just joined before the battle. Now they were on their own, with nothing in their hands but treaties for an upcoming fight and pure desperation.

So… it wasn’t great, to say the least.

Speaking of his fellow Wardens – the flap of a tent opened, and one of them crawled out to greet the day. Red hair didn’t exactly narrow things down, but an unmarked face told him everything he needed to know. Cahel, their youngest member, was the first to rise.

He plopped down on the log next to him, barely making a sound. Then he stretched, letting out a sound that reminded Alistair of a cat. Thanks to either the Joining or Flemith’s healing, he was no longer pale and looking like death warmed over. Strange how nearly dying had breathed some life back into him.

His fellow Warden caught his attention and grinned. “Morning, Alistair. Anything stop by while we were sleeping?”

Cahel’s voice was chipper, surprisingly so. Before, he had communicated in mostly groans and half formed sentences. Really, it was a miracle he had been able to fight at all when the battle had commenced. The Dalish were something else.

“Oh, no… it was surprisingly quiet last night.” He looked around. “Maybe because of the woods?”

Something about the place made his stomach turn, and not just because they were fairly close to Ostagar. The sooner they were out of it and on the road, the better. But where would they even go after that? To Redcliffe? Or would they try to collect the treaties from other places?

Would anyone even believe them? Or even rarer, follow them into battle against the forces of darkness themselves?

It was in a moment like this that Alistair truly felt Duncan’s loss. Not only had the man been a great fighter, but he could make people listen to him. He could’ve gotten the allies they needed to fight the Blight, but that hope had died with him.

Now it was just the four of them against the world.

“Not a fan of these kinds of trees honestly, they’re not good for climbing; barks are way too smooth. Guess they’re fine for keeping the darkpawn out though.” Cahel stretched again, yawning. “Well, we’ll be leaving soon enough once Tabris and Cherche are ready. They should be getting their shit together by now.”

He flashed a grin. “Tabris thought he could beat me to get ready last night, but I didn’t tell him I used to get up before dawn to train. Probably wasn’t fair, but oh well, that’s on him.”

Honestly, this went over Alistair’s head. Not just the tree bit – well, that definitely was a little confusing. They looked like regular trees to him, though their barks were a little darker than what he was used to – but the entire conversation between the two elves. Maybe he had missed it when he had gone to bed early?

Or maybe he just hadn’t been paying attention.

Speaking of Tabris – soon he was at the fire, grumbling to himself as he adjusted the maul on his back. The bandages around his head were gone now, and a dark strip of cloth covered the side of his face where he was missing an eye. It made him look like a pirate, but Alistair kept that to himself. The man didn’t have the best of temperament from what he had seen in their short time together, and he didn’t want to make things worse.

“Took you long enough, Tabris.” Cahel was all grins as he rested his chin in the hand he had propped on his leg. “Getting some extra beauty sleep?”

The other elf shot him a bleary-eyed glare with his remaining eye. “Shut it, squirt.”

“Hey, you were the one dumb enough to bet against a Dalish hunter’s apprentice on waking up early.” Cahel stuck out his tongue, then had to dodge a less than friendly swipe from Tabris. “Ooh, someone’s testy this morning!”

The two were soon trading blows – well, it was mostly the older of the two trying to smack his opponent upside the head, while the younger dodged with ease. All the while, one-sided laughter filled the camp as they continued to make their way around the clearing.

Alistair could only watch, feeling cold from more than just the weather. Somehow, with everything that had happened, they were able to act fairly normally. It was like their huge defeat at Ostagar hadn’t even happened.

They had lost their commander, and they were joking around?

“Save your energy for the road, you two. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.”

A new voice joined the din. Cherche, the oldest of the remaining Grey Wardens, walked over to the fire with a confident step. She was soon joined by Cahel, who sat next to her with a satisfied smirk. Grumbling, Tabris joined them, looking more than a little sullen he hadn’t been able to get a hit in.

Here was Ferelden’s hope.

“That was just a warm up.” Cahel reached for his back – they had put the treaties in there. “So, where we heading first? Alistair said we should head to Redcliffe to speak to that teryn guy, but the clan listed here shouldn’t be too far.”

Cherche nodded as she spread a map out on a nearby stump. “Redcliffe is the closest, so it would make sense to head there.”

“How the hell are we even going to find a Dalish clan anyway. Don’t you guys move around a lot?” Tabris joined her at the map. “Whatever we’re doing, dwarves go last. They’re in the damn mountains, it’ll take days to get there.”

Alistair knew he should probably participate in this argument, but it was hard to rise to his feet in the moment. Maybe it was because he was tired, or… well, maybe it was everything. He still felt like his insides had been scooped out, leaving just his bones behind.

“I should think that you would need to take part in this discussion.”

A final voice, one that brought a shiver up his spine, made Alistair jump to his feet. Somehow, Morrigan had gotten the jump on him. She looked less than happy to see him, but that was no different than normal. Ever since her mother had asked her to tag along, she hadn’t exactly been a bundle of joy.

He couldn’t blame her… but she could stop the sneaking around thing!

“Cherche and Cahel are far better traveled than I am, they would know what’s the closest.” He shrugged. “And Tabris is right about the dwarves.”

Morrigan didn’t look impressed by his answer. “And what are you, a tag along? Last I checked, you were a Grey Warden for longer than any of them. Are you content to have others make the decision for you?”

His fist tightened at his side. “I’m not…”

Then Alistair sighed. It wasn’t worth arguing with her -for all he knew, she’d turn him into a frog. Instead, he made his way over to the stump where his fellow Grey Wardens were gathered, discussing their plan.

Redcliffe and Arl Eamon were the closest, that was true. The mages were in the middle of the lake, so that meant they were safe for the time being. He had no idea where a Dalish clan could be, and… well, the dwarves were up a mountain.

It seemed logical to him.

“So, guess we’re decided on Redcliffe then. If we’re lucky, we might catch wind of the clan while we’re traveling.” Cherche left the stump and its map behind. “Alright, time to pack up then. Tabris, do you need help with the ropes again?”

Soon, they were dispatched with packing up for the day in order to set out on their journey. All Alistair could do was shake his head and return to his tent so he could pack it up. His body did the work for him while his mind wandered – back to Ostagar, then to Redcliffe then…

It was all so much.

“You’re going to tie a knot in that rope if you untie it like that. Let me get it for you.”

The rope was taken from his hands with a light tug that brought him back down to reality. He blinked, and realized he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him, breaking down his tent with the expertise of someone who had traveled all his life, was Cahel.

Alistair blinked as he stood. “Oh, uh… thanks. Guess I got distracted.”

“Yeah, I figured. You were kinda staring off into the horizon for a while.” The elf neatly coiled the rope and tossed it to him. Then he was folding up the tent material to tuck into the bag. “Everything ok?”

Ok? Was he seriously asking that at a time like this? Alistair could hardly believe his words as he stood there, rope in hand while the camp buzzed around him. None of it felt real in that moment – the rope was his only lifeline.

“Hey, you ok? You got a halla in the torch light look on your face.”

His vision was suddenly blocked by the waving of a hand in front of his face. Cahel had finished packing up his tent and was now in front of him, trying to get his attention. Alistair blinked, finally coming back to himself. At least he didn’t drop the rope, but it was hard to resist the urge to smack his hand away.

“How can you be so normal about all of this?”

His voice sounded shaky and unsure, like when he had watched the slaughter at Ostagar from far above in the tower. Then, everything had seemed so hopeless and now? Well, it wasn’t much better. They had a goal, but it felt like something out of a tale than actually something they could pull off.

Were they just wasting their time?

Cahel, much to his annoyance, shrugged. “You mean about Ostagar and everything else?”

“Everything else? Duncan died!” His voice shook. “He and the rest of the Wardens are dead and it’s all because of Loghain…”

“Yeah… I didn’t know Duncan like you did, but he didn’t deserve how he died.” His fellow Warden shrugged again. “But we gotta keep moving, you know? He probably wouldn’t want us standing around moping when the Archdemon is on our heels. If we give up, it’s all over for everyone in Ferelden.”

He started to move towards the rest of the group, but at the last moment he looked over his shoulder. Those blue eyes, sharp as a well-forged blade, stared deeply into him, straight to his soul. What was he seeing then in that moment? Alistair couldn’t even guess as he felt himself frozen.

“Come on, it’s a new day. Let’s go.”

Simple words, but they hit like a two handed hammer to the head. It was like a spell had broken, and he could move again. So, he packed up his tent and grabbed for his sword and shield. Then he was with the rest of the Wardens, ready to head out for their goal of Redcliffe.

With any luck, they would find allies there and get one step closer to ending the Blight. In that way, he could honor what his fellow Wardens had died for at Ostagar. It still hurt, but Cahel was right. He needed to keep moving.

And so, off they went to try to save the world.

[ramblinganthropologist]

All tied up

Summary: Miris Tabris and Cahel Mahariel walk in on something they weren’t expecting. Now they’re asking the big questions... like seriously, how the fuck is tying someone up for... that... enjoyable?

(Slightly NSFW  at one part due to mentions of Sten’s dick.)

---

Another night, another day they hadn’t died via darkspawn. Talk about a victory.

Well, he would have, but instead Miris found himself scowling at the mess in front of him. To the unaware, it probably looked like a pile of shit. If he was being honest… yeah, it looked like a pile of shit.

In his defense, why would he need to know how to pitch a tent in the alienage of Denerim? It wasn’t like he had gotten out much…

Regardless, outside was where he found himself with the rest of his group. They had picked a place to camp for the night, and all around him tents were going up. Unlike his, they were staying up and didn’t look like the next breeze would knock them over.

This was really supposed to be Zevran’s job… but the man had needed to go off and do something. His fatal flaw was leaving this task to Miris – they’d be lucky if their shared tent went up at all.

“Need a hand, Tabris?”

Fuck.

Miris resisted the urge to grit his teeth as he glanced up. In front of him stood his fellow warden, bow slung over his shoulder. Cahel had returned from hunting, and judging by the fact there was something dead near the fire he had managed to catch something. No wonder he seemed so damn pleased with himself.

“Do you even need to fucking ask, squirt?” He sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Yeah, fuck, fine. Get in here and do your freaky Dalish thing.”

No doubt the squirt’s ego was through the roof with that, but Miris knew when he’d been beat. So he moved aside and watched as Cahel settled in, acting as if on impulse. Unlike him, the boy was Dalish – he knew this shit like the back of his hand.

In under two minutes, he had managed to tie everything up and get it steady. All grins, he stepped back to evaluate his work, finally nodding to pronounce it was good. He then motioned to Miris to get his shit inside.

So, Miris got his shit inside. He could at least get the bedrolls set up, thank you very much. His face still heated as Cahel joined him inside, sitting on a bare patch of ground as if he was meant to do it. Seriously, the guy was downright boneless – it was infuriating.

Was that part of his weird Dalish training? Who knows…

“You were close, you know. Next time just focus on getting the rope a little higher before you tie it off.” His weirdly accented voice at least sounded sincere as he pulled his quiver off his hip to check his arrows. Unlike Leliana, he didn’t do the back quiver thing. Something, something, rogue bullshit he didn’t remember.

Miris just shook his head as he adjusted his maul – the head needed cleaning the next time he got the chance. “I’ll try to remember that for next time.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Any reason why you haven’t left yet? Usually you’re off cleaning whatever you got.”

Cahel responded with a shrug of his shoulders as he inspected an arrow. It wasn’t one of his – even Miris could tell the difference between human and Dalish make – so he was a little critical as he evaluated it. “Alistair said he could handle it. Besides, you said that you found something weird while we were out?”

Oh, right…

The elf nodded as he settled down on his bedroll for a second. “Yeah, it was on one of the dead mercs. Wasn’t sure what to make of it once I cleaned it off.”

He reached over to grab the dagger from his pack, flipping it over. Unsurprisingly, Cahel caught it. “I’m pretty sure it’s not Dalish, but what would you make of it?”

Thanks to where he was sitting, he got a good look as the elf unsheathed the dagger and gave it a brief once over. His ears twitched as he worked, turning it over again and again until Miris was sure he was going to get dizzy. Finally though, a frown crossed his features as he glanced up.

“Yeah, I have no idea what the hell this is.”

Instead of tossing, he handed it over – wise, Miris’ depth perception was shit thanks to the one functioning eye thing. “Definitely not Dalish though. It kind of made me think of something Sten has, though. Maybe those mercs had contact with Qunari?”

Shit, darkspawn AND Qunari? Like Ferelden had enough troubles…

Still, it was an idea. Miris was more than willing to find out too, though that was probably because he had nothing better to do. His body was a little stiff as he exited the tent, but he managed it without embarrassing himself too much.

Unsurprisingly, Cahel was right on his heels. They had been together long enough that he knew the younger elf was just as curious as he was about it. Unlike him, he had problems sitting on his curiosity – thus following along.

Sten’s tent was towards the edge – he needed more room because he was fucking huge after all. Well, that and the fact he was the warrior with experience in the party. If darkspawn tried to get the jump on them in their sleep, they’d have to contend with him first. Between darkspawn and a sleep deprived Qunari, he wasn’t sure which he’d rather face. Better to let the man get his sleep, he supposed.

It was quiet, at least. No doubt he was reflecting on the Qun or whatever the fuck he did when he was by himself.

So, he didn’t feel bad about grabbing the tent flap and sticking his head in. Thanks to the lack of depth perception and all, it took him a few moments to work out the details. At least he was pretty sure Sten was there?

“Hey, sorry to wake you up, but we had a question about…”

The words died in his mouth as he got a full picture of the scene inside the tent. His face exploded into heat as he realized Sten was flat on his back, naked as the day he was born. His arms were held above his head, tied there by a number of knots with a strange rope he had never seen before. Other ropes held him down, though he didn’t seem to be struggling too much.

Though, that was probably because there was a naked women straddling him.

Yep, that was Cherche alright – he knew those tattoos anywhere. What he didn’t know was her naked back, free of both clothing and weapons. Nor did he know her tits as she turned to face him,  sweat trickling down her cheek as she gave him a once over.

“Tabris?”

“Hey, what’s taking so long, Tabris?” A new voice – Cahel’s – joined the nightmare. Before Miris could warn him, he stuck his head in too. “Is he in here or…”

Thanks to the fact the kid had two working eyes, he had killer depth perception. So he got an eyeful of both his clanmate and her apparent lover far quicker than Miris could. His face didn’t change though.

“Oh, hey, Cherche. Didn’t expect to find you here.” He grabbed the dagger from Miris’ hands and tossed it over. “We found this on a dead guy today. Do you know if your guys made this, Sten?”

Given the fact his arms were tied behind his back, he couldn’t exactly check it out himself. Instead, Cherche unsheathed it for him. He paused for a few seconds, taking the details in like this was the most normal thing in the fucking world.

In the end, Sten shook his head. “It is not made by our craftswomen. Ask the assassin instead.”

“Huh, dunno why I didn’t think it was Antivan.” Cahel accepted the dagger back, shoving it into his belt. “Anyway, thanks for the input. Oh, yeah, you’re on second watch, Cherche.”

She nodded, as if she wasn’t naked as the day she was born and riding Sten’s fucking dick. “I figured as much. Thanks, da’len.”

“No problem. We’ll go ask Zev when he gets back.”

With that, Cahel pulled him out of the tent by the belt and motioned for him to walk. Together, they made their way back to Miris’ tent. Unsurprisingly, it was still empty – the Antivan tended to take his time. But it didn’t matter, his ass found the bedroll as his mind reeled.

What… the fuck?

Why would anyone… was that…

“Honestly, I’m surprised she found enough rope for Sten. I have no idea where she gets it, maybe she makes it? Didn’t look like normal rope…”

Miris picked up his head. Cahel was back on the ground, examining the dagger as if it would tell him anything more other than it was sharp and maybe Antivan. As always, his mouth was going a mile a minute.

He… still looked normal.

“Wait, you’ve seen that before?”

The once hunter’s apprentice picked up his head as he continued to turn the dagger in his hand. “What, the thing with Cherche? Yeah, her and another hunter used to do it sometimes. I walked in on her once with Tamlen.”

He paused, adding, “Elf Tamlen, not my dog. We were looking for her and we wound up seeing her tying one of our clanmates up and they were both naked. I guess they were planning to have sex during it or something. Seems uncomfortable to me honestly…”

Cahel’s voice trailed off as he kept examining the dagger. Honestly, all things considered he just seemed bored by the prospect. Something about that pissed Miris off – why was he the only one shocked?

Was it a Dalish thing? No, because Sten certainly wasn’t complaining if his erection was anything to go by…

“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like Sten would like being tied down like that after the whole cage thing.” He tried to block the image from his head. The last thing he ever needed to know was what the man’s dick looked like. “Seems more like Cherche would enjoy it. Maybe he owed her one or something.”

His fellow warden shrugged again. “Beats me. The whole tying up thing isn’t exactly fun either so I don’t know what she gets out of it honestly.”

He said it with such a normal tone of voice that Miris almost missed it for a second. Yet when he picked up on it, his jaw definitely dropped. Cherche doing something like that he could understand – she was weird.

But Cahel? The guy wasn’t even an adult by Dalish standards. Did he even know where a dick went besides in smallclothes?

Miris felt his good eye twitch as he stared over at his companion. “You’re kidding. You’ve done it?”

“I mean, I tried tying Tamlen up once to see if there was anything entertaining about it.” The boy’s cheeks colored. “It uh… we didn’t stick around long enough to figure out how Cherche got her partner untied and… yeah.”

He gave an awkward grin. “I might have accidentally tied Tamlen to a tree.”

…

Miris’ eye kept twitching. “You tied your boyfriend to a tree because you two wanted to figure out what Cherche was doing.”

Cahel’s face got even redder – he was matching his hair. It would’ve been fun to watch the boy stew, but… well, he wanted to hear how this ended. After all, he would’ve needed to get out somehow, right?

“First off, he wasn’t my…” His ears drooped. They were approaching an area he avoided if all possible. If that wasn’t a sign the boy was still a virgin, he’d eat his greaves. “Look, forget it. We were curious. I remembered what the knots looked like, but I think Cherche tied them differently. I couldn’t get him untied and I heard someone coming… so I ran off.”

His glowing cheeks could’ve been a beacon. “Someone else untied him later I guess.”

Miris found himself nodding along with that. “And the verdict was?”

“That Tamlen was really pissed I left him tied to a tree.” Despite everything, Cahel chuckled weakly. “Well, that and tying people up is a pain in the ass when they’re clothed, so I can’t imagine what it’s like naked. I have no clue what Cherche gets out of it, much less Sten.”

Honestly… that’s where he was finding himself on the matter. Try as he might to think about it, he just kept coming back to the same conclusion. In the end, he figured that was all he was going to get out of it and shrugged it off.

As long as Sten got untied before their next battle and both of them found their clothes, let them do what they wanted.

“Who knows, long as I don’t have to join in I don’t care.”

“Join in with what, Warden?”

A new voice joined the tent. Miris picked up his head and realized Zevran had poked his head in. Soon the rest of him followed, seeking his bedroll. He didn’t have anything with him to hint at what he had been doing, but that didn’t mean much. The man was a master at hiding things.

Seriously, did he shove them up his ass or something…

“Oh, nothing. He’ll tell you about it later.” Cahel showed him the dagger, but it was hard to miss the glint in his eyes that brought heat to Miris’ face. “Anyway, Sten said this might be Antivan. We’ve already figured out it’s not Dalish or Qunari, so you’re the next man on the case.”

Zevran chuckle softly as he accepted the dagger, and something about that did terrible things to Miris’ stomach. “A fair conclusion to jump to, young Warden. It is indeed Antivan. This groove here is meant for putting poison in for an unwelcome surprise. Where did you find it?”

“In a merc’s pocket.” Miris groaned. “Great, we got darkspawn and assassins, just what we needed.”

“Come now, not all assassins are to be feared.” There was a light tone to his voice – probably because he had originally been hired to kill them. He had gotten over that pretty quickly, though, so Miris didn’t hold it against him. “But perhaps Loghain is still hiring. We will need to keep on guard. I will need to watch your back closely.”

It was at this point that Cahel let out what was a failed attempt at hiding his laughter. He at least had the good stance to make his way to the entrance to the tent. That glow in his eyes was back however as he started to leave.

“I’ll let the others know to keep watch. Thanks, Zev. I’ve got to finish getting my gear ready, talk to you both later.”

Then he was gone, leaving Miris alone with his tentmate. Zevran seemed in high spirits as he got comfortable on his bedroll. A little too comfortable if you asked the Warden – something about it made his face heat up.

He was doing this on purpose.

“Now then, judging from the fact our young friend was so amused, what is it that you do not wish to join in?” There was that damn smile that did terrible things to his stomach. “Is it something dangerous?”

He was so doing this on purpose…

Then again, he had said he had been raised in a brothel… if anyone would know…

Miris still fought a twitch as he looked away. “Yeah… walked in on Cheche and Sten having… well let’s just say it looked uncomfortable.”

It was half as uncomfortable as he was feeling. Was it just him or was the tent getting hot? Man, he was going to regret saying anything. Next time he was making some fucking noise before he walked in on weird fucking. Lesson learned there.

“Oh, their moments with the ropes? She had mentioned needing to acquire larger ones…”

Yep, he was regretting everything now. Fuck him… at least he knew where the rope came from now? What had Leliana called that before, a pyrrhic victory? Fuck if he remembered, all he knew was that he was about to regret ever being born.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Fictober 24 7 - Come with me if you want to live

Summary: Sometimes, a Warden needs a drink. That goes double when you're itching for a fight. Cahel and Miris are needing both that night, and they're going to get what they're looking for. Is it fair, no, but hey... did they start it if they're the ones getting chased?

---

“It looks like you two had quite the night.”

“Yeah… mind healing me? Guy got in a sucker punch before I knocked him out.”

Miris’ knuckles were scraped, and he was pretty sure one of his ribs were bruised, but it was nothing serious. Still, healing was healing, so he wasn’t going to turn it down. He just had to wait his turn – Cahel had gotten there first.

Apart from the black eye and similarly bruised knuckles, the squirt was looking pretty good. He certainly seemed that way as he beamed from ear to ear. It was infectious – Miris found himself halfway into a wry grin as Anders turned to face him.

“Should I ask how the Warden Commander and Senior Warden got themselves into such mischief without us?”

Someone sounded disappointed they weren’t let in on the fun. Problem was, it wasn’t like they had planned it. These sorts of things happened on their own, sometimes when they were least expected.

Then again, two Wardens walk into a bar…

---

The sun had just gone down, and a cool breeze blew through the streets of Amaranthine. With it came the smell of the sea and the sense that it was going to be a good night.

Miris for once was out of the blue and silver, dressed down in his more comfortable clothes without his maul strapped to his back. It let him stand up straight for once, though his back still ached from the memory. Damn thing was heavy, even if he was used to carrying it after a year of never parting from it.

He felt kind of naked without it, but it was his night off, so he wasn’t going to complain too much.

“Wonder where we should go, haven’t really had much time to explore the place with everything that happened.”

Of course, that was hilarious coming from the squirt – until recently he hadn’t been in a city for more than a couple days. He was adjusting to the whole roof thing as well as any Dalish kid could – which was to say, he spent a lot of time outdoors.

He had tried to convince him to wear shoes, but it was a lost argument. Better to let him step in piss and learn his lesson the hard way.

“Like you would even know where to go.” Miris nudged him in the side, earning one back from his companion. “Hey, just saying, I wouldn’t know what end of the halla to milk if you dropped me in the middle of a camp and gave me a bucket.”

He assumed it was the ass end – cows were near the ass end – but you never knew when it came to halla.

“Fair enough.” Cahel sidestepped to avoid someone getting too close to him in passing – probably a pickpocket – and chuckled as they fell due to a change in momentum when he nudged them in the back. “Come on, that was too easy.”

Oh, to be a rogue with two working eyes. Miris usually solved the problem by glaring at people and his scars did the rest of the work. The squirt was working with a different set of tools, but he managed it well enough. They’d make a city goer out of him yet.

Speaking of city going – his ears picked up at a familiar sound. The accent might have been different, but he knew the clink of mugs and the batshit chattering of drunks anywhere. The only question was whether they’d get let in – after all, Cahel still looked 12 and they were both elves.

Only one way to find out – stick his head in and see if anyone tried to bash it in.

“I think we found the place.” Miris jerked his thumb in the direction of the noise. The sign above the door proclaimed it to be the Griffin’s Roost – if ever there was a more appropriate spot for two Wardens, he didn’t know it. “Just follow me.”

Maybe if they had both been in their proper Warden armor it would’ve been an easier process, but what was the fun in that?

Inside, it was as noisy as the street. Cahel’s ears were by his shoulders – kid wasn’t used to noise. Still, it wasn’t to the point that Miris feared his turn tail and run back to the keep. He was getting better about city shit the more he stayed in Amaranthine, and in a weird way he was proud of him.

Not that he’d ever say that, but the feeling was there.

The room was mostly human, but he spied a pointy ear or two near the back and he was pretty sure there was a group of dwarves making a deal off to the side. Nobody really seemed to care they were in there, so he took it as a good sign that their coin would be accepted. All he cared about was that there was something to drink and a table they could sit at.

“Go find somewhere to sit and I’ll get the first round.” He nudged Cahel in the side. “And don’t perch on top of the chair to get a height boost, people will think you’re weird.”

His commander accepted the ribbing. “I’m wearing leggings, they’re gonna think I’m weird no matter what I do.”

Miris shot him a glance, so he grinned. “Alright, you won me over. I’ll sit in the chair like a normal person.”

Perfect.

So, once that was settled, he made his way to the bar where an ancient looking man was wiping down a mug. Half his face was scarred – Miris could sympathize – and he looked as though he’d fought some battles back in his day. Old veterans had that feel about them, a kind of sense of not to fuck with them because they had some sort of weapon beneath the wood that they’d be more than happy to use.

He could respect that.

“Haven’t seen you around.” The man’s voice was gruff and low. “What do you want?”

Miris nodded at that. “Two meads.”

Briefly, the man’s working eye flicked to where Cahel was settling in. “Your girlfriend looks like a lightweight, but that’s on you.”

Oh, he was so glad the kid wasn’t there to hear that… he was a little sensitive about the whole looking like a girl thing. Anders had offered to help him out, but they hadn’t quite figured out the dose yet. It was weird when it came to elves, or so he had been told.

Not really his business, but after all the shit Cahel had been through he deserved it.

“We’ll be fine.” He dropped the coins on the counter and accepted his drinks. Then he was threading his way across the room to where Commander Squirt was waiting for him. True to his word, he was sitting in his chair like a normal person.

Cherche would be so proud of him.

“Here, you liked the honey stuff last time.” Miris nudged the mug over to him as he sat. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t have a real preference for alcohol. Call it a side effect of growing up in the alienage. “Just don’t get drunk too fast, you’re dead weight when you’re knocked out.”

Cahel nodded as he took a sip – probably missing the Dalish stuff. Whatever Dalish stuff was – he hadn’t really gotten a chance to figure that out when they had been dealing with the werewolves back in the forest. Probably involved honey or halla milk or who the fuck knew honestly. Maybe it was both – gross.

Oh well, none of his business. He was happy with mead.

As he sat back to drink, his good eye wandered around the room. While he couldn’t see that great – place was kind of dark and his depth perception was awful – he could pick up a group of humans had stopped talking. More importantly, he was pretty sure they were being stared at for some reason.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his mug as he lowered his voice. “Squirt, watch it. Shems on the right.”

Cahel, true to his training, didn’t look over his shoulder. “How many?”

“At least four.” He hid his glance with a sip from his mead. “Little guy in the middle looks to be a ring leader. Guess he’s got the gold.”

If it wasn’t a big guy who could beat ass like nobody’s business, it was a little guy with a wise mouth and deep pockets. Change the town, change the time, and some things never changed. See one, see them all.

And he got to see them really well as the little guy got up and started to make his way to where they were sitting. He was smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Worst of all, those eyes were trained on Cahel and he saw a flash of something nasty.

Miris didn’t like guys who looked at people like that. It made him want to punch somebody.

“My dear, I happened to see you across the room and I had to come over.” His words were thick with honey. “I don’t recognize you from around town. Did you just move to Amaranthine? I’d be happy to show you around. I’m sure I’d be far better company than your choice tonight.”

Miris resisted the urge to throw up as he watched the guy give him a once over, stopping at the eyepatch and the scar tissue that slashed across the side of his face. It made his smile twitch a little, but he wasn’t going to give up so easily.

No doubt he expected to bed the squirt – big mistake.

Cahel took another sip of his mead, setting his mug down with a slight clink. Then he was the one giving the once-over, a blank expression on his face as he did so. Eventually, he stopped right at the man’s crotch, ears twitching as he cocked an eyebrow.

“I’ve heard better.” He shrugged. “You’re not my type anyway, I like my guys with a little more muscle on them.”

Yeah – like the muscle on the current king of Ferelden. Even the richest asshole in Amaranthine couldn’t stack up to a war hero and literal fucking ruler of a country. Then again, the guy in front of them had probably turned tail and hid at the first sign of the Blight. No way somebody like him had ever so much as looked at a sword, much less held one.

The man’s eye twitched “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, your pick up lines suck and I’m pretty sure I could punt you across the courtyard.” Cahel picked up his mug to take a sip. He paused, before adding, “And you insulted my friend, so, you know, fuck you and all that. Next time don’t do that if you want to get somebody in your bed.”

Strong words from a virgin who was barely kissing his first boyfriend, but Miris did his best to suppress a laugh behind his mug. It was fun to watch the guy’s face turn red as he sputtered and tried to think of what to say. Clearly, someone wasn’t being used to getting turned down by an ‘elf maid’ in the pub.

Too bad, so sad, next time don’t try shitty pickup lines with a Warden Commander.

“How dare you, you knife eared bitch!” He spat the slur out like he was saying good morning – with practiced ease. “I have half a mind to-“

Cahel’s eyes narrowed as he finished his drink. “What, go crying to your friends that the big bad elf thinks you’re an annoying little shit? I’d think you’d be used to being told that by now; it takes effort to get to your level.”

The room had quieted down – all eyes were on their table. Miris took this as his cue to finish his drink with a large gulp. He knew what was coming, and frankly, he could use the exercise. Drills were one thing, but actually getting some practice in was another. It be nice to fight something other than darkspawn and mercs.

The challenging part was not killing them.

It didn’t take long for the man’s friends to join them at the table. All three were far burlier than he was, though he got the sense they were more muscle than brain. None of them had the telltale scars of fighting the Blight – maybe they had been hiding too. Either way, he wasn’t exactly impressed.

Their new best friend’s eyes were narrow slits. “If you want to go home in one piece, I’d apologize now for your cheek.”

Cahel managed a spectacular eye roll as he pushed away from the table, cracking his neck as he stood. “Alright, guess we’re doing this.”

He flashed a grin as he nodded his head towards the door. “Come with me if you want to live I guess, these guys look serious.”

And then that was it – he broke out into a run, sprinting past the group and heading outside. Miris pushed away from the table just as quickly and soon was making his way out the door. Behind him, he could hear the shouts of their would-be opponents as they realized just what had happened. Soon, they were storming out the door and down the road to meet them.

“You really are a people person, squirt!” Miris found himself laughing as he caught up to his fellow Warden. “Next time stare at his dick a little longer, I think I saw him sweat!”

The Warden Commander himself responded with a hearty chuckle as he glanced over his shoulder – then he dodged as one of the meatheads threw a rock in his direction. “What can I say, I’ve been told I’ve got a gift for hitting people where it hurts!”

They eventually found a good place to wait – a clearing that was empty near the square. Thanks to their pace and training, they had some time to wait for their opponents to catch up. It was at that point that Miris began to stretch, shaking out his muscles and preparing for what was no doubt going to be a short clash.

Cahel was doing the same, though he was bendier. Came with being a rogue – they were flexible. “Alright, we’re not allowed to kill them, it’s a pain in the ass and causes too much paperwork. Do your best not to bleed on them if they get a shot in. I don’t want to have to put a Joining together, we’re a little low on blood.”

That made Miris snort as he cracked his knuckles, the sound reverberating through the square. “Are you expecting to get hit?”

“Hey, even idiots get lucky sometimes.” His ears picked up. “Looks like they’re about to catch up. I’m thinking the little one’s going to hang back and let his friends do the work.”

Miris found himself nodding. “At least until he thinks he can get a shot at you. He seems the time to sucker punch when you’re not looking.”

But there wasn’t much time to talk after that – their opponents had arrived, breathing hard and looking fit to be tied. Unsurprisingly, the leader lagged behind, looking as though he had just gone swimming he was sweating so hard.

Yeah, none of them would survive the Joining if it came to it. Wasn’t worth getting the blood for it. No bleeding it was.

“You thought…” He gasped for air, hands on his knees. “You thought you could escape us that easily?”

Oh, if they had wanted to escape it would’ve been easy. But what could Miris say – they were bored. It wasn’t their fault that their untrained enemies hadn’t realized they had boxed themselves in. Honestly, it would’ve been pathetic if not for the fact he could feel adrenaline begin to pump through his body.

“Need to take a breather or something? Cahel was already in his defensive stance, body coiled like a spring waiting for them to strike. “You don’t sound so good. Guess running’s not your thing either?”

The man’s head jerked up, and he looked fit to kill. “And here I was going to let you live. Well, the guards can find your bodies in the morning for all I care.”

He glanced at his men. “Make sure the woman lasts long enough to see her boyfriend die. Then she’s mine.”

Oh, he was going to regret those words.

The first guy, probably the biggest, approached Miris with his fists clenched tight. He swung hard, aiming for a brutal punch. However, he telegraphed his moves like he was play fighting. Even for someone with one eye it was obvious. He didn’t so much as dodge as he stepped out of the way and let his opponent’s momentum take his ass to the ground.

Across the square, Cahel was cornered by the two other guys. They were smirking, flexing their fists as if they were scary. No doubt they thought their opponent was some civilian woman with a smart mouth. If only they had noticed he wasn’t wearing shoes…

Oh well. It was fun to watch the squirt dodge the first blow, snaking around it and grabbing the man’s arm. Suddenly, his opponent was airborne as he grabbed and threw him a surprising distance across the square.

Guess he’d been working out.

Miris would’ve said something, but his opponent was scrambling to his feet. Probably because it was so dark out, but he didn’t see the fist coming for him until it was buried in his chest. He staggered back, wind knocked out of him for a second as the man closed in, ready to deliver another blow.

Unfortunately for him… he felt the familiar tinge of a reaver rage coming on.

Adrenaline coursed through his body, pain evaporating with a bubbling anger that threatened to take over his entire being. He lunged at the man, delivering two nasty blows to his stomach and throat. His opponent staggered back, but that was when he rushed forward and closed the gap. Lacing his fingers together, he brought his combined fist down hard on the man’s shoulder and smirked as he heard bone crack.

He loved that sound – it was like music to his ears.

Down went the mountain of muscle, screaming as he held onto his broken shoulder. The urge was there to do something – kick him so he stopped screaming or bash him in the head until he went limp. Miris thought about it, but then he remembered they weren’t supposed to kill anyone. So he grit his teeth as he did his best to cool down the rage as he walked away to help out with the other fight.

Not that Cahel needed it – kid was dodging blows like he was made to do it. It wasn’t perfect, judging by the fact there was a rapidly forming bruise over his one eye, but given his size and lack of reach it was admirable. Even better, he was grinning as he jumped and weaved out of the way.

“Come on, you got one in, you can’t get another?” He turned to the side, the blow glancing past him. “Up, too slow! You’re going to have to do better than that!”

His opponent was sweating hard – somebody wasn’t meant for endurance fighting and it showed. The punches were getting slower and easier to read as his strength and energy began to leave him. Miris knew this one – had seen it plenty of times when they had been in armor and fighting with real weapons. It was a Mahariel classic: the good old snark and swat.

Naturally, the swatting part came when the man overjudged his reach because of the dark and the fact humans lacked night vision. He was powerless to dodge as Cahel circled around him, quick as lightning. Then he kicked hard, sending his opponent sprawling on the dirty ground.

And then, before he could get up, the kid punched his lights out with a combo punch that made even Miris wince.

By then, the fight was wrapping up. Two men lay unconscious, while one cried over his broken shoulder. The only one left was the leader, who was beginning to sweat as they approached him, fists at the ready. Honestly, he had to give the guy credit for not pissing himself – he seemed the type to do that.

Cahel cocked his head to the side. “You want him or should I take him? You only got the one.”

“How about we both get him? It’s been a while since we took one out together.” Miris held up his better fist, smirking. “On three?”

Remember that part about the man not pissing himself? Yeah, he was taking that one back - he smelled piss. Oh well, didn’t matter. Together, they approached their final opponent, ready for the final blow.

He didn’t even get time to beg for it – there was no three. Hell, there wasn’t even a one. They just swung, training and experience telling them when it was time. Miris’ fist found his stomach, while Cahel went straight for the nose. It was enough to send the man flying back, skidding to a stop in a puddle full of… something. It was always something in Amaranthine.

“Damn, I didn’t expect them to go down so easily.” Cahel sighed as he brushed hair from his face and back into his braid. “I figured we’d get a few more punches in.”

Miris shrugged as they left the square behind; with any luck, they’d either come to their senses or the guards would find them in the morning. Either way, it wasn’t really their problem. “Those guys were all talk, no action. I had better fights back home when I was 13.”

He stepped over the puddle – and their opponent. “Feel like heading back for another round? You’re buying, it was your fault this happened in the first place.”

His fellow Warden flashed him that famous grin as he linked his arms behind his head as he walked. “Yeah, that’s fair. Honestly, that mead was pretty good for human stuff. I might have to come back here more often.”

Coming from a Dalish raised honey fiend, that was high praise. It didn’t really matter to Miris – as long as it was strong he’d drink it. But they could quibble over the details over a second round once they were back in the pub and nursing their minor scrapes over a mug. The night was still young, and he was thirsty.

---

“Alright, you should be good to go now.”

Anders hand stopped glowing as it passed over Cahel’s face – the bruising was gone now and he could open his eye again. His knuckles were still bruised, but that was probably penance for getting into mischief without the mage. He didn’t seem to mind as he grinned and motioned with a wave of his hand.

“You’re up, Miris.”

Miris approached, still feeling the sting in his ribs. He was pretty sure they weren’t broken, but they still hurt. It wasn’t enough to be worried over, but it was an unpleasant reminder that he needed to keep his guard up. Had that been a knife, he would’ve broken the no bleeding rule.

Then they would’ve had to do the Joining, and what would that have gotten them but a bunch of dead men?

Unsurprisingly, Anders didn’t ask him where it hurt. The man had an eye for injury, and it showed as he casually lifted up his shirt. The bruising wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t too serious. He’d had way worse during the Blight – hell, back at home in the alienage he had really gotten into some scrapes. Compared to that, this was nothing.

“I hate to see what your opponent looked like after you were through with him.” His hand began to glow as he passed it over the wound. “Is he still alive?”

Miris did his best to keep from shrugging his shoulders -it messed up the healing if he moved too much. “I think I broke his shoulder, but he was alive when I last saw him.”

Cahel nodded his head. “Yeah, he went reaver mode on him. Guy’s lucky he didn’t get his head bashed in.”

Boy, was he telling the truth…

“This is probably the point where a Warden Commander should tell his Senior Warden not to get into bar fights, but then he’d be a hypocrite.” There was a crooked smile on Anders’ face as he finished the healing. “Next time, let me know you’re going out.”

Yeah – they could use someone with his reach. He was pretty tall too, so that helped matters. But he should probably say there wasn’t  going to be a next time and be a proper Senior Warden to model good behavior for the younger bunch.

However… nobody ever said he was a proper Senior Warden. After all, he’d gotten the job because nobody else could do it.

“Can do.” Cahel gave him a mock salute with two fingers pressed to his temple. “Well, guess we better go check on the recruits. Their bow work is some of the worst I’ve seen yet. Did we get these guys out of a dungeon or what?”

Uh, yeah, they had actually. But Miris still chuckled a little as he fell into step behind the elf, resigning himself to a morning of bashing recruits around in the training yard with his maul. At least he wasn’t hung over, but it was still unpleasant.

One thing was for sure though –  the Grey Wardens didn’t mess around when someone interrupted their drinks. After all:  in bar fights victory, in drinking vigilance, and in death… not today, mother fuckers.

Now, if only they had been wearing their armor, maybe word would get around. Then again, that would take the fun away from going out. It wasn’t nearly as entertaining when their opponents knew they had stopped the Blight.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Reading people's well thought out reasons why their Cousland can help prop Alistair up is fascinating and enriching.

Meanwhile over here I just made my Mahariel prince consort and nobody can say shit because there's kids... somehow. Blight x blight shouldn't work that way but elf kids on the throne are a-ok.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2023 - 30 Rush

Summary: Sten finds Miris and Cahel wanting when it comes to fighting. Unfortunately for him, he's about to bear witness to the creation of a new double attack.

---

With another day over, the Grey Wardens could celebrate surviving another trip around the sun. With what they were dealing with, they didn't have much to cheer over.

Camp was set, dinner was on the fire, and those that didn't have tasks to do were deep into their own things. Cahel was one of them, sitting in front of the fire as he worked on fixing an arrow. Next to him, Miris was cleaning his maul, both deep into their tasks. It was the sort of quiet thing they did when they were waiting for dinner.

At least it was until a large shadow loomed over them.

"Wardens." Sten's deep voice rumbled through the clearings. "Meet me at the edge of the clearing with your weapons. Leave your dogs by the fire."

That was all he said - he took off after that to the far edge of the clearing. There was no clarification, no reason why: just get your shit and come. Because of this, Miris and Cahel exchanged confused looks across the fire. However, there was no real reason to refuse him, so they shrugged it off.

With weapons in hand, they made their way to the part of the clearing where Sten was waiting for them. He had his weapon too, which glinted in the setting sun. He watched them both with a blank expression - it was the only one he ever wore. For all they knew, it was the only one he had.

Maybe Qunari just had one to spare...

"Any reason why you wanted us over here, Sten?" Cahel cocked his head to the side much like his dog as he glanced around. "You were kind of short on the details."

Sten shifted his posture - it was the kind he took when he fight. "Raise your weapons and prepare yourself, Warden. I have seen your fights and find them wanting."

There wasn't anything more from him - the Qunari rushed forward, sword in hand. He went for Cahel first, swinging his sword in a practiced arc. His target jumped back, flipping to avoid the blade that hit the ground instead of him. He didn't get much of a break, however - another swing had him on the defensive, which he blocked with both of his blades. His heels dug into the earth as he fought to stay in place.

The problem was, Sten was a lot bigger than him.

"You are lacking in body strength, Warden. Were I a darkspawn, I would have sliced you in half." Another shove, and Cahel was sent sliding back, almost dropping his swords. "Your defense needs work."

He would've swung again, but another large weapon cut him off. Miris had jumped in, mace at the ready as he blocked the blow. Unlike Cahel, he didn't slide back. Maybe it was because he was wearing shoes, or the fact he had a bit more muscle. Whatever it was, he stayed rooted in place as he kept Sten from advancing.

"Strength is not your problem, Warden." Sten broke the contact, rushing forward with a quick slice. Miris managed to dodge, but he was suddenly on the defensive as the Qunari swung at him. "You lack battle training. Street brawls are different than fighting a trained army. Your lack of discipline will be your downfall."

Miris grit his teeth as he did his best to block, but it was hard. Sten wasn't just strong, he was also fast for a two-hander. It was all he could do to keep from getting hit by the large sword. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but he wasn't about to take the insult laying down.

Though, he was pretty close to being knocked on his ass...

However, before Sten could take the victory, he had to break contact with the Warden in front of him. Cahel had recovered from being knocked back, and he was coming forward at full speed. Even though Sten was fast, he was a two-handed warrior against a rogue with two blades. It set him back a bit, enough to let Miris recover.

"Thanks, squirt."

"Not a problem."

The two wardens faced their combined opponent, gripping their weapons. Sten was quick to recover, and soon he was back in attacking form. This made the pair exchange glances, then nod as the broke into two different directions. Miris headed straight for Sten, swinging out hard with his mace.

"Your attacks have no subtlety." Sten blocked the swing without much difficulty. "Even the dullest darkspawn will see it-"

Then he had to break the attack in order to block the small elf coming at him with two blades. Cahel swooped in from the opposite side, letting out a flurry of attacks. Sten was forced to go on the defensive, blocking swift blow after swift blow with the patience of a master. His face never changed, however - he looked bored.

"Speed means nothing if there is no strength behind it." He blocked them all, not even falling back a step. "It's only good for a distraction."

Maybe that was why he easily broke contact to block Miris' blow. The two Wardens were sent back with a swing of his sword, sweating and gritting their teeth. Clearly, their idea to attack him at the same time had failed - he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Worst of all, he wasn't even breathing hard.

This was child's play to him.

"If this is the best the Wardens have to offer, I fear for Ferelden." Sten shifted his position, readying for another flurry of blows from his massive sword. Cahel and Miris exchanged another glance, before their expressions shifted. Instead of grimacing, both broke out in nearly identical grins.

They nodded at each other, and then Miris rushed forward.

"Another forward attack?" Sten almost sounded disappointed as he raised his sword to block the oncoming blow. "This is getting-"

He didn't get to finish, mostly because of what happened next. Mid swing, Miris stepped to the side. Behind him, Cahel rolled to avoid the swing of his mace. It brought him into Sten's zone, to which he brought with a flurry of blows. This time, well under the swing of the Qunari's sword, he made contact with his leather bracers. Then he rolled out of the way, allowing Miris to finish his swing at full force, catching his opponent on the sword and forcing him back a step.

It was just a step... but it was the first hit in the match.

It took Sten a moment to realize he had been hit. Thanks to his armor, he wasn't hurt, but there were marks on his bracers to prove Cahel had gotten a swipe in. His boots had created deep furrows in the ground as he was sent back as well, showing that Miris' attack had been just as effective.

"That was foolish. You cannot always-"

But Sten's words were drowned out by the triumphant cheers of the pair across from him. Miris and Cahel ran up to each other, exchanging high fives that reverberated throughout the clearing. Both wore huge grins on their faces as they began to chuckle, clearly pleased with what they had accomplished.

"That was sick!" Cahel was hopping up and down, beaming. "If we get the timing right, I might be able to get out even faster!"

Miris wore a rare grin as well as he laughed and pumped his fist. "We knocked his ass back! What does he weigh, like 250?"

"At least! Your swing was savage!"

"That roll was killer, he didn't see you coming!"

The two were all grins as they turned back to Sten, who was blank faced as always. The only thing that betrayed he might have been confused was that his eyebrow quirked ever so slightly toward his hairline. For a Qunari, that was the equivalent of his jaw dropping at the display.

"It is hardly efficient to risk getting your head knocked off, Warden."

Cahel grinned as he patted Miris on the shoulder. "Then let us practice it some more. If it knocked you back, then we might have some luck using it on the darkspawn."

"We can get our timing and placement down and see what works." Miris held up his mace for another round. "Well? You in or what, Sten?"

The Qunari shifted his blade, shaking his head. "If you insist on foolish acrobatics, it is best to perfect it. Ready the attack again."

The two cheered, and then they got back into position. Soon, they were attempting the same move, varying the timing to see what was best to prevent injury and get the best attack pattern. Sweat dripped don their faces, but they both grinned as they continued to work on it.

So much for serious training.

---

Later that night, Cherche watched as Sten made his way to his tent covered in dust and scratches from his Warden training. He didn't say a word as he put his sword to the side and all but laid flat on his stomach to avoid the world. All she could do was chuckle as she approached.

"Have fun with the kids?"

Sten lifted his head up briefly, just enough to comment. "They are the most reckless fighters I have ever had the misfortune to train with. Were they Qunari, this foolishness would not be tolerated."

Cherche could only give him a wry grin as she settled into his side. "At least they worked out a new move from it. It looked pretty effective from what I saw."

"Their timing is near perfect. It may just work against the darkspawn if they can keep from killing the boy Warden."

Based on his tone of voice, he didn't exactly sound too sure about that. But at his heart, Sten was a traditionalist when it came to fighting. If the Qun hadn't tried it, it wasn't something he would have considered. Cherche had long since learned that, and for the most part accepted it.

"He's got a pretty hard head, believe me." She laid her bow aside for the moment. "But it sounds like you've got some knots you need to work out. I can help."

Her tone had authority to it, letting them both know how their evening was going to go. Later, in the morning, they could discuss the new move between the younger Wardens. No doubt they would get plenty of use for it when they came up against the Darkspawn.

But Cherche would worry about that later. She had some ropes to untangle. The boys could perfect their battle moves somewhere else.

[ramblinganthropologist]

I need to draw my wardens squad, I don’t draw Cahel enough and I don’t think I’ve ever drawn Miris or Cherche.

...

I also need to write “Miris and Cahel walk in on Cherche and Sten BDSM fun times and ask each other afterwards wtf?”

Mostly because:

Miris: I expected you to freak out, squirt.

Cahel: I’m Dalish, you’re eventually going to walk in on SOMEONE doing it. Last time was also Cherche funny enough...

Miris: ... does she always...

Cahel: Yeah.

Miris: ... is that... enjoyable?

Cahel: I dunno. I tried to tie up Tamlen once because we were both wondering the same thing and I wound up tying him to a tree.

Miris: Only you, squirt.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Do you have any ocs besides Al and his sister? I would love to know about all of them!

... *looks over to closet door stuffed with OCs* maybe.

A lot of them are dragon age, such as the Origins trio Cahel Mahariel, Cherche Mahariel (belongs to reallyfuckinggay), and Miris Tabris. Then there's the 2 Duo, Avery Hawke and Moses Hawke (belongs to reallyfuckinggay). Finally there's the Inquisition 7 which include Kaaras Lavellan-Adaar, Akri Lavellan-Adaar, Jackel Lavellan (belongs to reallyfuckinggay), Hissra (reallyfuckinggay), Aeronwen Trevelyan, Ian Trevelyan, and Owain Trevelyan.

And that's just my canon run. Non canon Shepards include MK Shepard, Calliope Shepard, and Jacob Shepard. I have non canon Wardens (Rose Cousland, Vonnar Brosca, Zara Aeducan) too. I also have a Solavellan kid named Conan Lavellan-Aclassi and an eventual DA4 character named Isana Stonebreaker.

If you wanna know about any of my kids, just let me know!

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writing Miris and Cahel discussing if tying someone up during sex is fun be like a guy who has had sex with the gender he isn’t attracted to maybe once talking to a virgin who did actually tie somebody up once because he saw his mother figure do it. It’s the stupid leading the stupid.

Btw, their conclusion is “we have no idea what Cherche gets out of it, much less Sten.”

Somewhere, Cherche Mahariel is groaning and hoping her father in the afterlife isn’t laughing his ass off. He is, indeed, laughing his ass off.

[ramblinganthropologist]

About to go find a fic I wrote years ago cause I’m lazy, lol.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Zevran and Miris Tabris’ song just came on my pandora and I’m giggling like an idiot. I can’t help it, Olly Murs’ Dance with Me Tonight is so Zevran flirting with him. 

And yes, he can totally get Miris on the dance floor with some winks and sweet words. Miris swears he can’t dance but he does it well enough with Zev.

And damn if they don’t look good doing it. Make everyone on the dance floor jealous.

(In the background you can see Cahel Mahariel howling with laughter and muttering get a room into Alistair’s shoulder. You’re not getting him on that floor. Except Alistair can work magic too... it just takes longer.

Cherche Mahariel is off with Sten. They’re having their own fun.)

[ramblinganthropologist]

The best part of Miris and Cahel being friends is that Miris has been afraid of Cahel's mom since he was a child.

See, after the Sabrae drama dropped, his mom Ruari didn't go back to her clan. She wandered, eventually wound up in Denerim where she could put her skills to use. She settled into the alienage and came out only at night to work. Well... rumors started, and her disappearing for weeks didn't help either. Everyone was too afraid to go into her place because maybe she trapped it. Maybe there's something in there.

(Nothing but her gear mostly, but that shit's pretty ghoulish when it's your job to dispose of bodies after you're done with them.)

So the alienage was pretty creeped out by their Dalish guest. And maybe some kids started calling her the monster and it stuck. And maybe Miris still is afraid to go out at night because the monster will get him.

Cahel looks nothing like his mother, and he certainly doesn't remember her. How could he, she left when he was a baby. So he just assumes his mother was dead and so does his clanmate who was definitely old enough to remember the woman who got her father killed...

What I'm saying is Ruari is gonna get her clock cleaned by Cherche Mahariel. Also that sunshine Cahel is the son of the monster. Miris isn't going to know how to feel about any of this.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Inkjournal Day 20 - I do it for

Summary: Cherche has her reasons for fighting the Blight. However, she’s not spilling her guts on those; they’re personal. Word count: 1235

---

There was nothing like scraping darkspawn goo out of armor to make you really hate being alive. On the flip side, there was nothing better to make you appreciate it either.

Cherche's fingers ached as she worked a bit of congealed blood out of the leather of her chest plate, but at least she was starting to get rid of the smell. It had been building up for at least a week, and even though it was hard work she found herself enjoying it. After all, going around with smelly darkspawn encrusted armor was one of the worst things about the Blight.

You know, besides the world possibly ending.

“How the hell did it get in the INSIDE of my greave?” Cahel's voice carried across the fire. He too was doing armor maintenance, wearing the exact same expression as he scraped dark goo from the weather leather. “I didn't even feel it leak in!”

Next to him, Miris snickered as he dunked the whole of his breast plate into some rapidly dirtying water. “Given how much goo you take on, that's not surprising.”

“Says the guy who practically bathed in it last fight!”

The two younger Wardens took to bickering as they soaked various parts of their armor. It was an easy day thanks to their position among the mountains, so they could afford the rest. In fact, everyone was taken up in some maintenance task or another, probably happy for the breath of cold air that for once didn't taste of soot or disease.

At least, Cherche was happy for it as she put her armor by the fire to dry. She stretched, working out some tension in her lower back as she walked, before heading back to her tent. Her bow was waiting there for her, along with some arrows that needed fixing.

“Hey, Lilybird. Do you have any extra shafts you don't want?” She stopped by Leliana's tent, more for spare parts than anything. The bard always seemed to have spare arrow pieces lying around, either pulled from the darkspawn or from her own craftiness. They might not have been as good as her Dalish made ones, but they did just fine in a pinch.

And she had been in a lot of pinches lately; it was hard to be picky.

Leliana looked up from her lute, having been picking over a melody for the last ten minutes. She blinked back down to Earth, finally registering she had been asked a question at all. Without a word, she pointed towards a small pile near her tent. There were some unused arrow shafts there, more than enough for Cherche's needs.

She could always count on the Orlesian to pull through.

“Thanks, remind me about this if you ever need some from me.” She stooped to pick them up, but paused. Leliana still had that far-away look in her eyes, like she was somewhere else entirely. Usually, she only got like that when she was writing music. It was a good place for inspiration, or at least the elf thought so. Music had never really been her forte.

“Something up?”

Based on the look the bard was giving her, Cherche took a seat on the ground in front of her tent. If it was going to be a longer conversation, she at least wanted to be comfortable. Plus, thanks to the proximity to the fire it was warm.

Leliana still wore a frown as she plucked at one of her lute strings. “It just occurs to me I don't know why you're here.”

As Cherche cocked her eyebrow, she continued on. “Alistair was a Templar recruit turned Warden, so that explains him. And Tabris... well, we both know why Tabris is here.”

As if she summoned him, a loud shout from the elf caused both to turn. Miris and Cahel were in a mild scuffle now, nothing to worry about besides some dust being kicked up, over something that was probably dumb. Together, they could be downright stupid. Because of that, it was easy to forget the older of the pair had been sentenced to death for killing the arl's son.

Not entirely – he still insisted the asshole had what was coming to him, and Cherche was more than inclined to agree.

At any rate, she cocked her eyebrow. “Do I really need a reason to be here? It's a Blight.”

“No, just... it seems strange to have two Dalish elves working so closely with humans.” Leliana was still strumming away. “What did bring you here?”

The scuffle nearby had ended with Miris nursing a black eye and Cahel wiping away the blood from his nose. It was red, but she remembered when it had run black nearly six months ago. He had been so close to death when she had brought him home, nearly dead herself from the effects of the taint. Neither of them should have survived.

They hadn't found Tamlen, no matter how hard they had looked. All that was left was his abandoned sword and a bit of dark, sticky blood that she now knew was a characteristic of the goo left by a wounded darkspawn. He was dead if there was any god in this universe that loved him, or at least she thought so. No way he deserved staying alive.

Cahel was so alive now, but he had been so tiny on that bedroll, shivering and moaning as Marethari worked on them both to stave off the taint for nearly a week. It had been a patch job, nothing more, until they sought a more permanent solution. Cherche hadn't needed it as badly, but she too would've went the same way if not protected by the Joining.

Duncan's deal had been a death wish, but it was less painful than feeling her body rot from the inside out.

Still, Cherche shook her head as she stared up at the sky. “Already told you, Lilybird. Junior over there was sick, and I was dragged along for the ride because I was too. Nothing more to say about it.”

Leliana didn't need to know how badly she had fought to drag him home as she felt her blood boil in her veins. After losing the first Cahel, there was no way she would ever risk the other. If that meant nearly dying, then so be it.

But again, that was personal and not for shem ears.

“Oh, I see. That's very practical, Cherche.” The bard sounded almost disappointed as she continued to pick at her strings. “Forgive me if I bothered you.”

The elf shrugged as she reached for the shafts again. “No big deal, Lilybird. Sorry you can't get a better song out of it.”

She stood at last, heading back to her spot by the fire in order to make sure her fellow Wardens weren't trying to kill each other again. After all, there were plenty of darkspawn willing to do that for them if they just waited until they got to Orzammar.

Maybe it was the cold wind biting the back of her neck and exposed heels that reminded her that she was alive. She was alive, and so was Cahel. Even if it wasn't what either had wanted, they had lived to see another day where Tamlen hadn't.

Who needed a better reason to do something than that?