Tales From Thedas: Dragon Age One Shots

The Nobleman's Son

I still couldn't wrap my brain around how'd I'd gotten here. And I didn't mean Ferelden, I meant here, as in how did I come to be leading a ragtag bunch of defectors? Yes, I said defectors. For I lacked a better description of the people who had been following my lead since I'd sealed the Breach at the Temple.

Cassandra had left the Seeker Order, Cullen had left the Templars. Solas, an elven apostate had joined a bunch of people who feared magic and Varric, well... Varric had been brought here by Cassandra. But he'd been given leave to go and hadn't. Instead, he'd joined our ragtag organisation and started following me, along with every other person in our group who was a lot more qualified to lead than me.

I still didn't understand it. Less than two months ago I was leaving Ostwick under the disapproving and disappointed  eyes of my father. Bound for the Conclave at the Temple of Sacred Ashes, a place where my father believed I would finally see things his way and do what was expected of me.

We'd both known that wouldn't happen and we both knew I would not be coming home. I had wondered then if my father believed I would really go to the Temple and a part of me hadn't wanted to. Yet I'd surprised myself and made my way across the Free Marches, crossing the Waking Sea into Ferelden.

Then there'd been the whole explosion thing and a nightmare I couldn't quite remember. Then there was the waking up in shackles with a weird pulsing green mark on my hand.

That had been three weeks ago. Since then, my life had gone in an entirely foreign direction. Out of nowhere I'd been made the  defacto leader of highly skilled, experienced individuals all looking to me for direction.

To say I was overwhelmed would be a gross understatement, yet I found the role came naturally to me. I was in no way in agreement with their assertion I'd been sent by the Maker, but every time I'd had to make an important choice, I could easily discern which path to take. But I kept that bit of information to myself. If I didnt, it was guaranteed Cassandra would use it as validation and proof that I was being divinely guided. I didn't need that added to the burden I'd already been handed. Attempting to live up to some divine expectation on top of what I was already burdened with doing would be more than I could handle and then some.

Which brought me to now. Cassandra, Varric and Solas were traipsing behind me in the middle of the Hinterlands as we made our way to Redcliff. First Enchanter Fiona wanted to talk  alliance between the mages and  the Inquisition and it was my job to get it done.

As usual, things didn't go as planned and Fiona had no idea who we were. I sighed inwardly and though it was not ideal, I felt no surprise or panic over the strange turn of events. Even after the Tevinter Magister Alexius took his ailing son Felix away and I read the note he'd slipped me, I remained calm.

It wasn't until we stepped inside the Chantry to see a lone mage battling rift demons did my calm waver. It wasn't seeing the rift or even that there was a rift in a Chantry. It was the mage himself that had me feeling off-kilter, as though my world had tilted and it wouldn't right itself again until he talked to me.

He spoke as soon as I'd closed the rift and his voice rolled over me like silk and chocolate. It matched the delicious scent of vanilla and sweet red wine that wafted from him like perfume.

His eyes were captivating and filled with amusement, intelligence and a hint of something that made my knees feel weak. When he laughed, I couldn't tear my gaze away from the way his lip twitched, clearly pleased with my reaction to him.

He spoke quickly, as though he wished to ensure I had nothing to fear from him. When he told us he was a mage, he hurried to reassure me he wanted to help and was nothing like his countrymen.