Chapter Text
Last rays of sun fell upon his unconscious form. The light slowly swiping his body as the sun travelled the sky, slowly setting, preparing to hide behind the horizon, bringing the night onto the world. Moving lazily from his chest to his face, across his neck, ever so slowly, the light finally shined onto his eyes. His body stirred as his eyelids flew open, gasping for air, he took in his surroundings. Head darting around as he propped himself on his elbows, still plastered across the boulders.
He was safe, it worked. The crazy idea actually worked. Instead of smiling though he winced as he became aware of the long narrow cut marring his forearm. Roughly the length of his palm a bloody line ran along the outside of his forearm. Dark stain surrounding the wound with lines of the same color running down to his elbow. The blood had already dried, leaving the wound closed. Skin tight, the dried blood evoking a slight pull on the skin as he turned it around to examine the extent of the damage.
A shallow cut, relief flooded him, easing his wince into more of a neutral expression, must've cut myself on the boulders while falling onto them, he sighted, aware he was the only one to blame for the cut.
The area surrounding the wound was red and swollen, the body's attempt at closing the wound. He could see the inflammation has already set in.
It would do some good to clean the wound, who knows what might've been on those boulders. However, would it be wise to reopen the would now that it was sealed shut? From experience he knew that such cuts tended to bleed heavier the second time around.
Having no supplies, no bandages, no antiseptic, no means to clean the wound, let alone properly treat the cut, he decided to leave it be for now. The consequences too severe when confronted with benefits.
Something's not right though. Why didn't that fall wake me up? Also, the cut hurts like a bitch every time I move the arm, he stared at the cut with wonder. Still trying to wrap his head around the circumstances, just a touch of worry crept slowly into his mind, yet his naivety not letting him accept that this, all of this, might’ve in fact been real, he chose to hold onto the belief that it was just a figment of his mind. A figment bent on scaring the shit out of him, yet altogether not real.
Deciding to finally get the hell out of those ruins, not feeling safe, he slowly rose to his feet. Careful to avoid any sharp edges, the throbbing pain in his forearm a sound reminder to be aware of his surroundings. He placed his feet carefully, testing every step on the pile of rock, not to let it slip off the surface and into a groove between the boulders. The last thing he needed was a sprained ankle.
With no grace, yet safe, he managed to crawl his way over the pile, finally standing in the door. Walking through them he felt the cold breeze wash over him, relishing the fresh air. Smell of grass and trees, forest, invading his nostrils. He breathed in deep, enjoying the freedom. Taking a few tentative steps, he turned around to examine the structure he has just made it out of.
In front of him he saw a hill, not too high, rising from the ground surrounding him only by a few meters. The hill was covered in tall grass, a few trees scattered across it. Yet there was no visible architecture above ground. The structure fully concealed beneath it. Even the entrance was easy to miss, had one not been paying attention. Clusters of particularly high grass rising along the entrance cutting into the hillside. A simple stone frame, devoid of the intricate patterns gracing the walls and archways of the ruins, leading inside the mound, into the darkness. The waning light of dusk not enough to illuminate the interior structure of the vestibule.
With his back turned to the door, he looked around, searching for any sign of civilization. A landmark, a building, a road, anything really. Yet, there was no such thing in sight. The only thing surrounding him was the forest, thickening in the direction he was facing. Trees becoming more numerous, taller, obscuring the view of the land stronger, the further he tried to look. It was clear he found himself at the edge of the Wilds. He had no intention of going in there, as he would probably get lost in the forest, perhaps never to find his way out again.
Yet he stared in fascination at what he could make out from this fair distance. The trees looked dark, yet not due to the setting sun, but rather the bark seemed almost black in color. Thick roots rising of the ground in elaborate patterns, weaving together, creating arches and wrapping around smaller trees, evoking a slightly brooding atmosphere. They reminded him of an octopus' tentacles, stretching across the forest floor. If he stared long enough, he could swear he saw them move a couple inches across the ground.
Impossible, right?
Another thing building the ominous vibe was the lack of leaves. Each branch bare, every tree devoid of leaves, the forest seemed dead. Even more creepy was the fact that although he could not feel or hear any wind, the branches seemed to be waving around in a lazy manner, moving back and forth with the nonexistent rush of air.
Right, that's not the way, he tried to shake off the fear that threatened to return after the events of the ruins, I can do without the extra thrill, he shifted from foot to foot, running a hand across his other arm.
Having decided to go the exact opposite direction, he made his way towards the hill. Hoping that climbing it will provide him with a way to see further, beyond this forest. If not though, he'd still go over it, just to get away from the creepy trees.
Climbing the steep slope, he made his way to the top. Head darting around he found what he was looking for. Not far from where he was standing the trees gave way to the field. Patches of high grass and grain stretching far across the land, a river running through the countryside, and beyond all that he could see a small town with a windmill towering over it.
Bingo.
Making his way down the hill, step by step, slowly following the direction he set for himself, he could see the forest getting thinner. Slowly, but surely the distance between the trees seemed to increase as the way seemed lighter, numerous rays of light passing through the thick of branches. Leaving the creepy darkness behind.
Having reached the bottom of the hill, he lost sight of the little town and the windmill, yet now that he knew what to look out for he could hear a faint shimmer of the river in the distance. Provided he'd find the river, he could easily follow it until he reached the city, hopefully avoiding trouble and finding shelter having reached the city.
Time seemed to flow differently while he stumbled around between the trees, he felt peaceful. Something that seemed almost foreign after the mad rush of adrenaline he experienced being trapped in that dungeon. Trees dancing in the actual wind, not the creepy imitation he was leaving behind. Somewhere in the distance he could hear a bird chirp from time to time, disturbing the ever-present silence that he's been engulfed in up until then. He slowed down his stroll to actually take time to breathe in and appreciate the beauty and peace he was graced with.
With every step bringing him closer to his goal he noticed the sound of the river got awfully loud. It was more of a roar now. Looking around, the trees seemed scarce and younger, he must've reached the edge of the forest. Few more steps and he saw it.
The river of crystal-clear water swirling across the countryside and disappearing into the horizon like a huge snake taking a nap in the sun. The sloped bank where grass gave way to sand seemed so inviting. The sand was light, clean, dry from being slowly heated by the sun the whole day. The water was clear and transparent, flowing swift and strong, glistening in the sun now high in the sky. Sparkles dancing across the surface of the water stirred by the strong current. Droplets of water, a silvery mist, being cast into the air as the water hit the smooth stones, opposing its flow. From time to time a fish could be seen, following the current and disappearing into the swirling mass of water.
Slowly approaching the bank, he could already feel the cool emanating from it. With the sun high in the sky, its warmth making itself known, he wanted to just splash some of the cool liquid onto his face. Maybe drink a little.
He knelt in the pristine sand and slowly lowered his hands into the water. The current was strong, something to be warry of. He quickly gathered some water into his palms and splashed it onto his face, enjoying the chill. Few more splashes. He then took a careful sip of what he gathered in his arms. The water was really cold yet tasted fresh. There was no way to say if it really was drinkable, however he gave in to his thirst against his better judgement. Gulping down mouthful after mouthful he was oblivious to the danger he was in.
A blood curling shriek tore through the air. As his heart jumped to his throat he instantly turned around, getting up from his knees and stumbled away from the river. The timing perfect for where he had just been sitting now a curved blade was sticking out of the sand. Gripped by a terrible... thing. For it looked nothing like any creature he knew existed.
It was roughly the height and shape of a man. Though it was no man. Its skin pale in a sick manner where in the light of the day the pallor seemed to gain a green tinge. Veins of black running underneath the skin, a stark contrast between those tendrils of darkness and the otherwise bleak creature. Skin stretched across the bald head reminded him of a slightly more rounded skull.
Its eyes... the eyes were empty with no pupil nor iris, just milky uniform white, only a tone brighter than the ghostly skin. Sunken in their sockets. Though it seemed impossible the creature could clearly see him, stumbling away as it turned its head in his direction and looked. It didn't just look at the rough area where he was, it looked directly at him. Its torn nostrils flaring, sensing his fear. Random pieces of ragged flesh sticking out at the sides of its head, where ears were supposed to be. Everything about the creature seemed broken and wrong.
As it opened its mouth he could see razor sharp canines lining its edge. There were no lips, just smaller patches of the sickly white skin hanging of the edge of the gaping jaw. Probably remnant of when the creature tore into something paying no attention to tearing up its own flesh in the process. What's more, now that the jaws were opened a strange darkness could be seen oozing out of them. In stark contrast with the bright sun, tendrils of oily black slipped out from both the jaws and around its eyes, only to dissipate having lost contact with its source. It truly looked as though the creature was weeping black tears that floated away for a while only to vanish in the light.
The rest of its form was just as wrong. Limbs seemingly human, yet oddly proportioned, sometimes twisting at angles beyond what should be possible. All in all, feeding the feeling of wrongness surrounding it.
The body was clad in an ill fitted set of armor. If it could be called a set... It was more of random pieces worn together. The metal had numerous dents, rust creeping over it. Jagged edges and sharp turns speaking to the inability of the smith. To be honest it looked like random plates of metal barely fitted to the form, just enough to be strapped onto it.
The blade being yanked out of the sand was as crooked as everything else about the monstrosity. Black in color, most likely from blood never washed off. Flakes of rust falling off the blade. Its shaped resembled a hook. Perfect for wild, uncontrolled swings for it was sure to catch the victim. Though again it was imperfect in its making. Fashioned by unskilled hands and raw. Raw and wild and wrong, like everything about the creature was.
The mere act of seeing the creature made his skin crawl with fear.
Woah, woah! What IS this dream?! though looking at it, it seemed oddly familiar.
Crawling away so as to get up on his legs, he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the creature, though it gave him no chance. He could almost feel the blade sinking into his flesh as swing after swing made a wave of air hit his back in unison with the whoosh of metal cutting the air.
Gathering his courage, focusing his fear just like time and time before, it was so easy now... Familiar needles prickling his neck as ice cold fear spilled over, cold sweat and raw power spilling down his arm as evidenced by the tingling he summoned the boulders in his defense. Emerald glow once again enveloping his palm as sand and dust thrown into the air started to condense. Dust into pebbles, pebbles into rocks and rocks into boulders. Soon there was a piece of rock floating by his palm as he hopelessly tried to flee the creature. Not daring to stop for even a second in order to aim, not daring to even turn, he cast his hand out blindly behind himself and let loose the spell.
Shriek. Bingo. The tiny victory only a slight comfort in the face of his panic.
The creature shrugged the attack off. Though it stopped in its track and stumbled a step backwards it didn't get flung into the air, didn't break or die, unlike the creatures in the dungeon. Only slightly surprised by the minor, fist sized dent in its already worn-down armor, it quickly focused back on its prey. Jaws slightly ajar in a creepy grimace alike to a grin.
He threw another spell at the predator and another and another, but all they did was put some more small dents in the armor and keep the creature in its place, though in the moments it took him to gather his strength again it seemed to be getting closer. Only a few feet away now, he was getting desperate. Panic setting in as his arm was starting to burn, clearly protesting at the influx of power coursing through it, summoning the rocks. His body could not stand the pressure and strain of dishing out magics at this rate. One last try and he took off again. Fueled by adrenaline running faster than ever in his life. Though it was still not enough to escape the monster.
Ducking behind a fallen tree, crouched low by the trunk he had to take a breather, able to run no more. It took mere seconds before the creature was hacking away at the wood. In the flurry of motion, his arms flailing, the blade caught his flesh. Blood spilled from his forearm, spraying the wood, the ground and the creature, which only seemed to urge it on. Fueling the bloodlust. Though the cut was shallow, red liquid was steadily running down his arm.
Ugh... Think... You can't outpower it, outsmart it! he desperately tried to get out of the situation.
A tree slightly standing out from the rest caught his eye. Overall darker and moldering it offered away as a slight glimmer of hope came to life in his mind. He quickly ran over and put the tree between himself and the creature. As expected, the hectic swings soon echoed off the wood.
The burning in his arm now slightly more bearable he gathered his power once more and released the rock at the tree, point blank range. The wood being in the state it was - gave. As soon as the creature managed to look up the tree was falling.
Thunk.
The ground shook just a little, small tremors travelling across it, making the leaves slightly shimmer in the background. The monster laid overwhelmed with the massive trunk keeping it down. Wild shrieks and violent jerks of its body a proof it was far from being done with him. It could not be left alone like that.
Channeling the now very real pain in his arm, he summoned fire, pushing every ounce of his strength into the column of flames he sent at the monster. As fire danced and spilled across the creature, the worn-down wood soon caught fire leaving the beast no way to escape its fiery death. The pungent odor of burnt flesh filled the air as the last few violent shrieks died down and the burning corpse laid limp covered with the smoking wood.
Falling to his knees, he tried desperately to calm his raging heart. Still trying to come down from the rush of the situation. Adrenaline rushing through his veins. Trying to make sense of the situation he pushed it all down. No time for that now. Vague memories tugging at his brain of what the creature was. Realization still out of his grasp.
As the fight or flight response subsided the pain now prominent in his forearm made itself known. Blood running freely down his hand, he inspected the cut, finding it not deep enough to be a threat, yet still quite long - enough to cause worry.
Without thinking much, he made his way slowly, still shook - his breath quite ragged, to the nearby stream. Sticking his whole forearm into the water in one fluid motion, he gritted his teeth, letting out barely audible hiss at the unexpected sting as the water made contact. The brisk current made quick work of the wound. Long stripes of red stretching down the current as water carried away all stale blood and dirt stuck to the cut.
Looking around for a makeshift bandage he quickly realized that he’d have to use what he has on him, literally. His clothes were the only clean piece of cloth around. Inspecting the plain t-shirt, he found a stripe that was least dirty from his tumbles in the dungeon and tore it off, leaving his clothes in a sorry state - ragged edges and stripes making a poor job of completely concealing his body.
Deciding against washing the cloth - the wetness would only stop the wound from closing - he carefully dried the cut as best as he could and wrapped the material in a reasonably tight manner, putting just enough pressure on the cut. He tied the makeshift bandage and inspected the dressing. It was as good as it’d get.
Standing up from his crouch by the water he knew that with such things lurking in the woods he undoubtedly needed to get to the village before nightfall, now even more so than before. With new strength behind his step he followed the river down and hopefully towards the village he had seen.
After a second though, he cast a last glance towards the smoldering corpse, the odor still unbearable. To be more precise his gaze fell upon the blade laying a foot away from the corpse, the blade now a lighter color - reflecting light as the fire burned away all the stale gore previously covering it.
Should I? he entertained the thought. Nah, he resigned himself to leave the weapon behind as he had absolutely no idea how to handle a blade, besides with his injured arm he’d be no good with it anyway.
One more thing caught his eye though, a flicker of light as the sun caught a small object on the ground beside the sword. A small slightly tarnished silver coin laying there, probably dropped by the creature, though what it would need a coin for was unknown to him. Another one not too far away, he picked up the shiny objects and examined them more closely. The coins were of a round shape yet not perfectly circular in their making, also the markings on them seemed foreign. He could not tell what currency it was for it did not correspond to any he knew of, yet he decided to keep the coins as they would surely come in handy.
Casting a quick glance around the ground so as to make sure there was no more money laying around, he set out to reach the small town before dusk. A dull pain he quickly dismissed settling in under the layers of cloth covering his wound.
***
The world is spinning, why is the world spinning? looking around the world seemed to be floating. Every sharp turn of his head sending everything into a spin. Times and times again he had to grab onto a tree to steady himself as his sense of balance was far out of order. All the spinning making him nauseous, yet he managed to keep his stomach from turning and pressed on so very close, the various buildings of the settlement in sight now.
Step after step he neared the town. He was running a fever from the looks of it. Perhaps in this town he'd find some help. If the dizziness was any indication he had to act fast, because he clearly was at a risk of fainting. One more thing he noticed was the fact that every time he grabbed onto a tree with his injured arm it hurt much more than it was supposed to... but then again he has never had a wound like this so he could not tell anymore what was to be expected and what wasn't.
The sounds of the river so much louder now... just a few more steps and there he was at the edge of the small town. Trees gave way to loose patches of grass and eventually plain dirt - before him laid a dirt road leading into the town
A dirt road, huh? What is it, the middle ages?! the humor not leaving him despite his dire situation. He could feel himself growing weaker by the minute.
The dirt road seemed to lead to a small stone bridge set over the river that has led him here. Just over, on the other side he could see people rustling around what he could only assume was some kind of a main square.
Putting aside the weakness plaguing him for a while, he felt joy at finally reaching the town as perhaps he'd finally get some answers here ... maybe even some help for his wound. With unsteady steps he crossed the stone bridge and entered the town.
To his right a tall stone building stretched from the ground. At least a few stories high it undoubtedly towered over other nearby buildings. Blocks of stone held in place by crude wooden columns the building looked nothing if not medieval. Yet in comparison with the nearby... huts it almost seemed ornate. Looking at it through the prism of other nearby constructions it was apparent great care must have been given to its constructions. Windows high and narrow, few and far in between, were made out of pieces of stained glass of warm hues. The myriad of reds, oranges and yellows, which overall seemed to mirror the sun with numerous rays of light stretching from it, must have created a lovely atmosphere inside the building, especially with the waning light of dusk delicately dancing across the glass surface. All in all, the building seemed to save a religious purpose – it looked like a church, yet he could not see any signs or symbols associated with a religion known to him. The only recurring pattern was this ball of sunlight. Now that he looked closer the same symbol was etched into the gateway arch guarding entrance to the yard in front of the building
Starring at the building it escaped his notice that some people were starring back. In fact, most of the people in his immediate vicinity as well as those only passing by seemed awfully interested in him. Whispers and concerned glances were what followed him around. Taken aback by the sudden attention he took his time to stare back, only then did he see the people, really see them or rather their choice of clothing. They were wearing what looked like rags and linen fabrics to him. Dirt clinging tightly to the edges of shirts and dresses alike, dust settled firmly on what had never been white, giving the people an overall filthy appearance. What caught his attention even more were two men wearing... armor, full plate metal armor of shining metal with small dents and scratches telling a story of its use. The men were whispering, pointing in his direction with their heads, their arms moving to rest on the hits of some serious looking blades. Having noticed the attention and wanting anything but to stay in the center of it. He stumbled away as fast as he was able to.
My clothes! it dawned on him. He was wearing your regular modern-day garbs and quite clean if he could say so himself. It was not too hard to see how he might attract attention seeing as he was practically glowing in comparison with the people. The fact his clothes were missing stripes used for the bandages did nothing to avert the curious eyes.
Having crossed the bridge, he noticed yet another peculiar construction in front of him.
A windmill just outside the main square. Standing tall on a hill, overlooking the settlement it was made of stone and wood, same as the pseudo-church before. The color alone setting it apart from the wooden constructions, all around it. Tall and looming, worn down with its blades bearing holes and tears - time did not spare it, yet over so slowly with a barely audible creak it was turning.
***
There were more people in the square than in front of that temple and so he could blend in a little bit better, but even though the whole square wasn't staring, people still moved out of his way. This allowed him to have a clear view off his surroundings.
In the middle of the square there was a well, a very old-looking well with a wooden arch, wooden windlass, rope and a wooden bucket hanging above it.
At the edge of the square there were many wooden buildings. single story, plain wood. Taking into account all he has seen they were probably the villager's homes. Here and there, both in-between and in front of the buildings stood barrels and wooden crates, worn down by the weather. To be honest everything was worn down. The wood dark and rotten in places with mold taking hold in the corners. The conditions were terrible, yet the people did not seem to mind. Where he could barely stand the stench of... he did not even want to think about that. In all this chaos everyone was going about their everyday lives unbothered.
Where am I exactly? he mused. Are these people so poor so as to lead such... existence?
There seemed to be structure to the madness as he quickly noticed a couple Merchants selling their goods at some makeshift stalls. There was a butcher, a man of powerful stature, with animal sides laying on the bench in front of him.
That can't be healthy.
There was a middle-aged woman with a stall full of groceries. Apples, pears, pumpkins, carrots, greens and so on... Carefully laid out in front of her. Then there was an elderly woman sitting on a stool a little bit to the side, grinding something down in a mortar. Various plants hanging on a string from a stand a couple feet away.
This is my best bet for some medicine I guess, he resigned himself to seek help from the strange looking woman.
As he was growing weaker, he had to pay attention to his feet so as not to stumble and fall. Looking at the ground he failed to notice the person he walked into. A small bump and they were both on the ground, trying to get their bearing. Going immediately for an apology he was cut short by the girl herself stammering out an apology of her own.
“I'm so sorry, I should’ve watched where I was going”
"No good, sire. I was not careful enough. Please forgive me," she bowed not looking him in the eye.
Before he could say a word, she was already getting away.
“Wait!” he grabbed her hand and felt a rush of electricity run up his arm
His eye shot wide open as did hers and that's how he knew she had felt it as well. Her eyes slightly worried now, yet she did not run as though awaiting the next question.
“I think I might need your help,” he mustered what he could only hope was a pleading smile.
“Fine, but not here,” her gaze softened as she properly took his hand and led him through various alleys in-between the buildings.
“My name is Bethany, sire. May I ask yours?”
“Ah, of course, sorry. I' m Anthony. It’s a pleasure to meet you Bethany and stop calling me sire.”
“It's only befitting someone of your status,” he could swear she blushed a bit at that, but at his confused stare she quickly added “It's obvious you're nobility, serah,” she motioned at his clothes and now it was his turn to blush.
Each lost in their own thoughts, Bethany led Anthony to her home
***
“Mother! I'm home and I brought a guest,” Bethany screamed excitedly as soon as she was through the door.
“Oh!” the woman, Bethany's mother, emerged from a nearby room and quickly gave a curtsy upon seeing Anthony's attire.
“Please! Stop! I'm no nobility as your daughter assumed. I’m Anthony,” he extended his hand to the lady.
“It's a pleasure to meet you then Anthony, I'm Leandra,” her features visibly eased after the introduction. “Please sit, can I offer you something?”
“A cup of water would be nice,” it dawned on him in that very moment how hungry he was. It was dark outside and he didn't remember the last time he had something to eat. His stomach grumbled as Leandra came back with a cup of what he had to assume was mead and a few slices of bread and cheese, setting the plate in front of him.
“You look sick, young man. You need your strength,” she answered at his questioning stare. Too hungry to think how touched he was by the gesture he dug straight into the food. Consuming everything hungrily both the plate and mug were empty.
Having emptied the plates, feeling sheepish he quickly stuck his hand into his pocket, digging around until he found what he was looking for. The silver coins he looted of that beast.
“I don't know if it's much, but that's all I have, please take it,” he offered the coins to Leandra in his outstretched hand.
“Don't be ridiculous boy. If I wanted you to pay for it I would’ve sent you off to the tavern, ” she exclaimed angrily. Her gaze softened though as she closed his hand around the coins and smiled. “Keep them. You'll need them more than we do.”
As her hand made contact she frowned yet again, she quickly put her palm against his forehead. “You’re feverish. Bethany grab some cold water and a rag,” she motioned at her daughter.
“Where am I?” he asked taking advantage of the women's attention
“Well, you're in Lothering, of course,” she smiled a sad smile at him
Lothering, the name was all too familiar, it finally dawned on him, everything, where he was, what happened, who these people were, why it all seemed so familiar.
He looked at the woman in front of him - gray hair neatly pulled back, ivory wise eyes, pale skin - the same as her daughter, though her daughter’s eyes were amber and her hair black they looked very much like the character models he knew so well.
How come I didn’t realize earlier I was taken in by the Hawkes?!
The world was spinning again and it wasn't the fever this time. He was shaking, cold sweat breaking all over his body. With a thick lump in his throat he felt as though he might throw up any moment. The reality of his situation finally sinking in.
I'm in the goddamned Dragon Age, he didn’t know if he should start laughing or crying. He started shaking even worse than before.
“Oh Maker, I think you're even worse than I thought,” Leandra gasped having noticed his state.
He quickly snapped out of the mild panic attack at the comment, but in the back of his mind his thoughts were racing. Ruins, giant spiders, armored men. Templars, and he was apparently a mage. The implications of what would've happened if he hadn't moved out of their sight. The creature, a darkspawn. Which meant... the cut! he knew why it was hurting so bad.
The pain wasn't from the cut itself. He had the Taint coursing through his veins. A million thoughts rushing through his head at that very moment all the while he tried to find those that mattered. Something to help him or else... he swallowed the bile rising at the thought... he'd die.
Unless... well he was a huge fan of Thedas and its lore back when it was all still just a fantasy to him. Oh, how he wished to come visit it then but never could he have imagined it would come to pass. And to be honest he'd prefer it under different circumstances, not to be picky.
The only way known to him to survive the Taint was the Joining. In any other situation he'd never even consider it as he knew the price every Grey Warden must eventually pay. But he was desperate now with his own life on the line he found he preferred those couple more years of life than none at all. The only question that remained was where he would find a warden that could and would let him join the order.
He had to look at the facts here to try and figure out the timeline. He was never good at remembering dates so asking either Leandra or Bethany would do him no good. He had to base his calculations on the order he knew things should happen in. He’s read enough fanfiction so as to know that there was no script in these kinds of situations and fate was in fact not set in stone. He only knew how things could have played out had he not come here and there was no telling for how long that knowledge would remain reliable or even relevant. He could only hope he hasn’t damaged the timeline in any major way yet.
The facts... the Hawkes were still in Lothering and that must mean the Fifth Blight hasn't consumed the town yet. But the darkspawn in the woods and the lack of the male members of the family around the house could mean only one thing. Ostagar was about to happen or even might have just happened. That would mean the future Hero of Ferelden will soon start their journey and thus become his only chance. Two things were sure at least - he didn't have much time and he couldn't stay in Lothering any longer.
“You have to do something about this fever,” once again Leandra fussing over him snapped him out of his contemplation.
“Why would you show such kindness to a stranger?” it hit him as he tried to stand up from his seat by the table, swaying on his feet only the littlest bit, grabbing onto the table for support, Bethany quickly rushing by the door to help steady him.
“It's hardly much of a kindness to offer a sick man and a guest in my home a piece of bread,” she smiled in a motherly way and even though it was a sad smile it held empathy for him.
“Besides, my daughter trusted you enough to bring you home and I trust her judgement,” the smile turned mischievous as Bethany coughed and her cheeks turned red.
“Mother!” she shouted.
It took him a while to grasp what had happened here but when he did his own cheeks turned red as they all broke out into laughter, his a bit weak in comparison due to the fever.
It reminded him of home, of his own family.
What happened to me there? Have I died? Have I gone missing? Will they miss me? all the questions were too much for him to dwell on at the time. He could only allow himself to focus on one thing - he had to find the warden and he had to survive.
“I have to go now,” he straightened himself. “But there is one thing that you could tell me that would help. I know it might seem weird, but it would help me a great deal to know it there is a Qunari in the village,” he blurted out.
As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted choosing to ask that particular question. If memory served him right the circumstances that led to Sten's capture weren't exactly... pleasant. He murdered a family of farmers with his bare hands in the shock of losing his sword. Most likely the Hawkes knew these people and perhaps the families might have even been friends - to mention the murder and so soon after it happened was in fact very insensitive of him. Perhaps even dangerous as any associations with the Qunari might cause the people to turn on him seeking ill-placed revenge.
The warm and welcoming atmosphere soon turned cold with unsaid words hanging dangerously in the air. The motherly care seemed to evaporate from Leandra's features replaced with poorly concealed anger and hurt. The wrinkles adorning her cheeks and forehead grew deeper and more pronounced as her lips tightened into a thin line. Eyes darkened, she informed him the beast, as she called Sten, was no longer in Lothering and that it had left not long ago with a group of travelers passing through on the Imperial Highway.
With the mood soiled, which showed even in Bethany's face, he made no delay to leave. Raising from the chair he made his unsteady way towards the door, the fever causing him to stumble, but this time no one helped him nor did anyone make a move to stop him. Their compassion clouded by his possible connection to the murderer.
Standing on the doorstep he turned over his shoulder in order to warn them about the danger approaching from the wilds. As Lothering was soon to be consumed by the Blight.
Swallowing hard he tried to make himself sound as serious as possible. To drive home it was no joke.
“Ostagar fell,” they must've already figured that out from the occasional survivors passing through the town. “The Blight will soon swallow Lothering. Take whatever you can sell with you and leave. You'll need the money,” he cast his eyes sideways and added, “when it gets here every second will count, if you're waiting for someone to return be prepared to leave at the very sight of them. Or should it come to this - at the sight of darkspawn.”
Without waiting for their reaction or further questions he left the house.
It was already dark outside, but he had no time to waste. Barely remembering the way Bethany led him down so as to reach the Hawkes’ house, he stumbled around the alleyways finally reaching the main square. Setting his eyes onto the grand windmill looming dangerously over the town from above up the hill, now merely a silhouette against the dark night sky, its shape only discernable by the stars its form obscured.
The town was preparing to fall into slumber. No people in the streets, only faint sounds coming from the tavern occasionally interrupted by a louder shout. Tiny windows leaking candlelight onto the moonlit street. The very portrait of a small yet peaceful town.
Poor souls... he thought making his way towards the highway as the mixture of emotions brewing inside finally took on the form of regret clear in his features.
Passing the cold metal cage that looked like it could fit two people top to bottom and a few more left to right. Making his way past the last of wooden fences as quaint as the town itself, destined to meet the same fate. He disappeared into the night, leaving Lothering behind.