Chapter Text
The tavern in Lothering was bustling with noise, even more now that refugees were everywhere carrying their pleas of help and hungry bellies. Or at least this is what Danal, the tavern-keeper kept saying to whomever went to ask something. In all this agitation Surana found it a miracle, that she managed to sneak away some chairs for her small party to sit on in front of the fire. Tomorrow at first light they were to leave Lothering for a new destination, only the Maker knew where to go first. This particular day seemed to pass so fast. Ever since Ostagar time seemed to move faster than she was used to. Back in the Circle every day was like the one before: studying magic, reading whatever book she deemed interesting, the conversations between the Apprentices, the usual.
But now… the sound of the screams in the battlefield filled her head again and again. She and Alistair have kept their promise, they succeeded to light the fire in the Tower of Ishal. What for? Teyrn Loghain was to be crowned king by his own hand. The Wardens were declared traitors and there was a bounty on their heads. There was a feeling of molten rage burning inside her: she has known King Cailan for less than a day, alas he deserved not the death he received. Nor Duncan… The kind yet stern face of the older Warden came in her memory. She should have known something would go wrong. Her fingers were playing absently with the medallion around her neck, at first not even noticing the fact. But when Alistair’s voice interrupted her way of thoughts, Surana realized the amulet was sitting in her hand.
“What is that?” he asked, half joyous. She wouldn’t have expected anything else. It was quite visible Alistair tried his best to remain his old joking-self, but under that large smile of his and funny words there lied deep sadness and sorrow. Surana disagreed with Morrigan that morning when she mocked him for that. By the Maker, only a few days passed since Ostagar and Surana herself didn’t feel like dancing of joy. Her fingers encircled over the small thing, as if wanting to hide it away from the eyes of her companion. It was too private, it was not something she wished to share just yet.
“Just a small trinket. Nothing more.” Knowing he will not receive more, Alistair turned to speak with their newest member in their party, Leliana. Surana’s thoughts went to the owner of this small, unimportant trinket. Duncan has looked at her, as if he knew, when she left the Senior Quarters caring her belongings. Not too many, mind her. He had been there…and the look he gave her when she left for the stairs to the Apprentice Quarters. Maker have mercy…
Surana had dreamed of leaving the Circle, but never dreamed of coming to the village of her birth again. Eadric asked her once, when she apparently seemed to steal his reading light where she was from. At first the thought of telling that she had no idea crossed her mind, but after she simply said Lothering. Why? Perhaps the only mentioning of the name brought some faded childhood memories to her, long ago, long before she was ripped off from her family. Then she remembers the two of them descending in an intricate discussion about learning the lost tongue of the elvhen. But it is not the time to recollect such a memory. She had asked around a few people that day, even refugees. Sadly no one seemed to know of a Surana family of elves. They must have moved to Denerim or who knows.
She sometimes wondered if her parents missed her. If she had a brother or sister. But every mage is taught to give up any hopes of family and love and all the small things those ungraced by magic were freely having without even knowing. Every mage is taught that the way of the Maker is the only one and that their magic was meant for being enslaved and never used. But Surana always dreamt of joining the Dalish, of learning of the old ways of the Elvhen, a life far from Kinloch Hold where her magic was not seen as an abomination but as something worthy of celebrating. She gritted her teeth in frustration without even realizing. Enchanter Surana would have no say in this matter, but she was no longer enchanter was she? She was now Surana of the Grey-Wardens, survivor of Ostagar and embarked on a sacred duty of ending the Blight. Quite a few titles acquired in just a few days.
Her eyes descended upon the amulet. It was nothing special, but only the fact that is was gifted by him made her treasure it, as if it was made of pure gold and encrusted with jewels. He had given it to her just after her Harrowing, as a gift of her succeeding. The elf half smiled to herself…he had given it to her just after they shared one of their rare more intimate moments. The last of them if she came to think about. Had she known that would be the last time they shared a kiss, she would have remained in that moment a little more, before it waxed and waned. Now he was hundreds of miles away from her, from her grasp, from her touch. Surana imagined him sitting at the time of the dinner, surrounded by the other Templars, but feeling so alone, not touching his food, starring with an empty gaze into nothingness. “Ma vhenan” she would say to him, watching him looking perplexed or questioningly at her ( be this of her choosing ), not knowing what to reply to such a thing. In truth she considered herself lucky to have found the book “Translating the Elven Languages” in the Apprentices Library. In the Circle of Magi you were a mage first, then an elf or a man. But to her this was a relic of her people, something she will not let the others destroy. She hid the book after the discovery, somewhere only known to her.
Sometimes she wondered… how this all came to pass? Cullen was only eighteen when he joined the Circle as a templar. She has been there since her early child years. A boy so youthful and bright, why choose such a life? Surana was no fool. She knew it will never last, it was never truly meant to be, not as long as she would be made tranquil for the littlest of mistakes. Still, this never prevented her not to just enjoy the moment. Cullen who stuttered whenever he was speaking with her, Cullen who would always watch her when she was reading to the young children, Cullen to whom this amulet belonged…
“What do you think?” Leliana’s blue eyes were set upon her, bearing the mark of questions and Surana had to blink a few times before realizing she had been asked a question. “I asked whether you think Lothering is nice, silly.” Leliana laughed, seeing her confused look.
“Hm, yes.” She cleared her throat while taking a better position on the chair. “I truly had the time to admire it in-between killing bandits, giant spiders for venom and the infestation of bears. Adding trap and poison making and mediating all the conflicts around. Remarkable sight.” Humor has never been her strongest point but when Leliana started laughing, the elf looked startled at both Morrigan and Alistair.
“It is not always this way. It had better days.” But Surana’s eyes were distracted by the sight of a cooper skinned woman, bearing eyes blue as iced snow, who stood close to them, seemingly arguing with two others in her likeliness.
“Bethany you have to understand! We cannot remain. The darkspawn horde will be here in just a few days and by then we should be far away.”
“But what about mother? What about our life here?” Bethany objected, bearing a distressed look.
“All will be burned to the ground. Do you think the darkspawn will just let our house stand? We should be already miles away. We should have left since the first rumors about the darkspawn.”
“We shouldn’t argue right here. There are too many people.” The third spoke, a man who resembled Bethany. The three must be siblings, Surana thought.
“And where should we argue Carver? I don’t want to upset mother more than she already is.” The first woman responded to her brother, looking as if she would slam her fist on the table at any moment.
“Hey Hawke!” Danal’s voice came from the counter. “I already have my tavern full of pleas and cries and angry people. Don’t need you making a show around.”
The elder Hawke shot the keeper an icy look then raised and left, followed by her twin siblings. Although, even without their argument the room was still quite loud. Surana decided to return upon her small group of companions. Alistair now petted the mabari who was near the fire, trying to catch as much warmth as it could. Leliana and Morrigan talked some nonsense about the Chantry life and Sten simply stood. There was no emotion on his face, no movement. He just stood and gazed into nothingness. With a weary gaze, Surana closed her eyes and even with all that sound around soon sleep found her.
***
The deep…they called from the deep. They shouted and marched to the surface. Closer to them, closer to everyone. She saw them, an army without end and the archdemon leading. They are coming. With a scream of horror, Surana shut her eyes wide open and raised frightened, her face bearing the taint of sweat. Alistair woke up from his slumber immediately and watched her alarmed, yet when he saw there was no trace of their camp being attacked he gave her a reassuring smile. These dreams come to the newest of wardens, he told her. The rest of the company stood around, some woken from their sleep by her shout but now delving back in, some being awake in the first place. They had left Lothering only a few days ago and Surana’s thoughts lingered at the whispers she heard, told by some refugees in the shadows. Some of them were complete nonsense, but others seemed to carry a seed of truth. Others seemed so real. With disappointment Surana found that sleep will not grace her again that night, so she decided to simply stay and meditate.
Where should they embark to? Alistair stood steadfast in his decision to visit Redcliff first, Morrigan advised that seeking the aid of the elves firsthandly would be most wise, Leliana wished to see Denerim but Surana longed for the sight of the tower. Mainly after the dark rumors she kept hearing. It was an ironic thing, a freed bird longing to return to the cage. Most mages were not as lucky as her. The elf-maid snorted at her definition of luck: tore apart from the only life she has ever known and given the opportunity all caged mages long for. Even more, there will come no Templar after her, she will not be branded as an apostate and she was free to use her magic. Is this not what she has always wished? If they managed to stop the Blight, if they succeeded Surana imagined she would embark on her own quest, find her family or meet some of the Dalish. But until that time a whole army of darkspawn and an archdemon stood in-between.