#i've been suffering from some fuckin rancid writer's block for itav and this was so nice to crank out

[drauthor]

not two of my favorite fandoms in one really AMAZING piece of art holy *f u c k*, op this is gorgeous

oh dear, I've been influenced

rambling, unedited AU scene under the cut:

This is how it starts.  

***  

Cody has heard of the Grey Wardens. His childhood had been dreams of sweeping battles and heart wrenching sacrifice narrated in his father's soothing rumble, and he hadn't forgotten the stories trickling back from Thedas of the Warden who had saved the South. She was said to be the epitome of the Wardens - gleaming armor blurring into a smear of gray and white and blue, cutting through swathes of darkspawn like a hot knife in butter.  

But—stories tend to take on a life of their own.  

He knows this.  

And yet— 

Well.  

The man doesn’t even seem aware of Cody standing a few scant yards away, let alone like he could be able to sense dark spawn. He clings to his horse’s reins, face horribly ashen. The Warden griffon is proudly emblazoned on his chest plate, scored through with gouges obvious even from a distance.  

The man just doesn't—look like a Grey Warden. 

He looks half dead.  

And that makes no sense in the sleepy town Cody’s raised his brothers in. None of whom happen to be at home, and Cody can only be relieved.  

The horse continues to approach, with or without the man’s input on the matter, and Cody resigns himself to meeting them halfway.  

He doesn’t need any more odd stains on the furniture, so better to make sure the man is alive (if he’s alive, a small voice whispers in his head) and send both horse and rider on their way. His chest tightens at the thought—the plan—but he ignores it, carefully weaving around the garden and stray toys on his way to the road. 

The closer he gets, the worse off the man looks. It’s the kind of worse Helix claims drives him to drinking so his blood pressure doesn’t set a record high. It’s the kind of worse that already has Cody rethinking the plan to firmly, but not unkindly, send them on their way to as far away from him and his brothers as humanly possible. It adds a burst of speed to Cody’s step, but he doesn’t start running until the man slips, tilts forward, and— 

shit—! 

The man is heavier than Cody expected when he pitches into Cody’s chest, all dead weight and bulky armor and the suspicious smell of copper and rot that sticks to the back of Cody’s throat and almost—almost—makes him gag. He grits his teeth through the worst of it and holds on to the man until his knuckles ache. The weight forces him to a knee, but it’s nothing Cody hasn’t handled before.  

It’s the work of a moment to use his knee as a brace, to adjust his grip on the man and unceremoniously haul him over Cody’s shoulder, one arm wrapped tightly around the man’s thighs and the other gripping at the man’s back, pinning him in place as securely as possible.  

He breathes through the adrenaline and the sharp bark of pain in his bad shoulder, carefully pushing off his knee until he’s standing upright, a strange man—a strange Grey Warden?—tossed over his shoulder and a horse doing its best to make eye contact.  

“You couldn’t have picked any other house to drop your human at, could you?” 

The horse just stares.  

Cody swears he’s being mocked.  

“I’m not even a physician. You picked the worst person for the job.” 

The horse snorts in his face.  

Cody glares. “If you eat the garden, Helix will turn you into fertilizer. You’ve been warned.”  

He turns away before the horse can respond—Fox is right, he is going crazy—and dodges the toys and the garden, again, and shoulders the door open, biting back any noises that threaten to slip out when he manages to jostle his bad shoulder twice. He thanks whatever deity might be listening that Helix’s work room is only a few steps away from the front door, and he drops the stranger on the nearest exam bed, grimacing at the burn in his lungs.  

He takes a moment just to look, curious despite himself.  

The stranger’s hair is matted with filth, ash and dirt and—yes, blood. It might be a nice shade of burnished copper, or it could be the blood. There are no obvious wounds on his face, but the skin beneath his eyes is bruised and purpling and sunken, and his lips and face are devoid of any color. He looks disturbingly sickly.  

Cody eyes the armor. It could be hiding any number of injuries, and Helix gets grumpy when the basics aren’t taken care of. Cody very carefully does not sigh before he sets in on the armor, murmuring a quiet apology to armor and stranger, both. Grey Warden or not, the armor is well used and well-loved in a way that Cody recognizes, that keeps his touch gentle even as he fights with buckles and latches caked with dirt and other unholy substances Cody absolutely refuses to look too closely at.  

(He makes sure to stack the armor right, after he scrubs it clean and runs a polishing cloth over the worn metal.) 

***  

Grey Warden Obi-Wan 🗡🛡