The Heart of a Dragon (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Fear

The Inquisition cheered them as the rift closed; but all too soon it was time to look to their losses, to care for the wounded, to clean up the mess left behind by the Grey Wardens.

A representative of the remaining Wardens came to Ren in the midst of the clean-up, looking for guidance. On being told that Warden Stroud had been lost in the Fade, the young Warden looked alarmed. Apparently Stroud and Clarel had been the only Wardens left among them of a high enough rank to take charge.

Ren looked at him, and then at the rest of the Wardens who hung back in a knot, keeping themselves away from the mutters of the Inquisition. These were the childhood heroes of almost everyone in Thedas, those charged with standing between the darkspawn and the destruction of everything the world held dear. How could she let them slink off into ignominy this way? That would be to let Corypheus win, to cut off their nose to spite their face by turning away such a resource.

That Blackwall, back at Skyhold, would want his people looked after, also occurred to her, and she nodded at the young Warden. "Come with us back to Skyhold. We will find a way for the remaining Grey Wardens to aid the Inquisition and recover their honor."

Hawke was at her side at the time, and he frowned at her. "That won't be a popular decision."

"A wise man once told me that leadership meant making the hard decisions and living with the consequences," she said. "That's the beauty of making decisions on the battlefield—the consequences are mine, and the rest of the leadership can shake their heads and say 'oh, that Inquisitor, so impetuous,' and everyone wins."

He laughed. "That sounds like the way Varric thinks."

"He's been an asset," Ren said. "I don't know what I'd do without him. You're not going to try to drag him back to Kirkwall, are you?"

"No. I don't live in Kirkwall anymore, anyway. I live on the open ocean, amongst the pirate armada, which is even more fun than it sounds."

"I know you've hung up your sword, but ... the Inquisition could use you."

His eyebrows flew up. "Me? Oh, no. I did my bit. I'm retired. Besides, Isabela would kill me."

"Bring her, too. I'm sure she'd fit right in."

"That she would, but there's too much dry land. If you ever need a ship, though, ours are at your service."

Ren sighed. "Maker, I miss the ocean. You have no idea how good it sounds, just to set sail and not think for a while. You think ..." She glanced across the battlefield at the Iron Bull, who was helping rebuild a trebuchet. "Never mind."

"You made some progress on what we talked about before, then," Hawke said, following her gaze.

She smiled. "Yes. You catch on fast."

"When a man that terrified would rather stay in the Fade than leave it without you, it sends a pretty clear message."

Ren hadn't thought of it in those terms; put that way, the Iron Bull's stubbornness actually sounded ... romantic.

Hawke clapped her on the shoulder. "He's a lucky man."

"Thanks."

"Look, I'm going to go say good-bye to Varric. When you get ready to take down Corypheus, tell him to send for me. I want to see that bastard die—for good this time."