I have another chapter written, but I'm debating it... I'm going to bounce it off my wonderful hubby and see what he thinks. It is chock full of huge regrets, so I'm debating if that's the course I want to take. So, I'll post some sort of continuation tonight.
The Old Mage
Débuté par
AdorableAnarchist
, janv. 14 2010 01:22
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#28
Posté 15 janvier 2010 - 06:20
AdorableAnarchist
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LOL! I'm thinking about doing another post for Sere or Resa... Just not sure who is the most eager right now. I really wish I was at home in my "Writing PJ's" and able to concentrate without people interrupting me with questions about work. Don't they know I'm trying to write!?!
#29
Posté 15 janvier 2010 - 06:34
MarcusDeVarro
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psh waiting, who waits?
i don't
how rude, interupting your writing while your at work lol
i don't
how rude, interupting your writing while your at work lol
#30
Posté 15 janvier 2010 - 06:36
AdorableAnarchist
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It's definitely a pain. They always seem to have issues right when I'm at an important part. Ahh well. The only things I have to do this week are: Clean house (and yes, I have to, but I'm making the family help so it won't take long MUWAHAHAAA) and Write. YAY!
#31
Posté 15 janvier 2010 - 11:41
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Well, kids, I had a post all ready to go and forgot to email it home. So, I need to rewrite it -- but do not despair. After talking to hubby, I have more ideas......
#32
Posté 16 janvier 2010 - 06:34
TanithAeyrs
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Finally had a minute to read your story, very good. I am looking forward to your next chapter. The perspective of the mage looking back on her life adds a lot of depth. Thanks for sharing.
#33
Posté 18 janvier 2010 - 01:01
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And here we go. The next bit, finally. I'm swamped today, so another bit may not get written until tomorrow.
Maly listened to the quiet crackling of the flames in the hearth. If she strained her ears, she could almost hear the laughing of her old companions. How she missed them all. She had not thought that she would end up so alone or so lonely. Maly’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile, though tinged with pain. It had been her choice though, but only after she had been given no other.
Oh, but why had those children come to her door? Why had they opened a heart purposefully left closed? She honestly did not know why she had begun regaling them with her tales. Could it be the loneliness that she had lived with for so long? Was it because of the nightmares that were beginning once again?
“Well, deal with it, old woman,” she snarled at herself, “You are too old to rage like you once did. And besides, Wynne isn’t here to stop you.”
With a groan, she pushed herself out of the chair and made her way slowly to her bed. She was weary but did not want to face what would be waiting for her in sleep. And yet, the heaviness of her eyes left her little choice. It seemed that her choices had been taken away ever since that moment on top of Fort Drakon. Even now, she could feel the anger, the hate, the betrayal of that moment.
Maly slid beneath her sheets and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Love had vanished in a single moment that still stood out starkly in her mind. How could he have done something so stupid? So selfish? Fool man! Oh, how she had raged once she was well enough to get out of bed. Only Wynne’s magic had kept her from burning the room down in a fit of pique.
It was so long ago and she could still feel the fire of her anger. That fire had propelled her forward. She had recruited new Wardens and rebuilt as though her very life depended on it. She drove them hard, striving to make certain each learned the lore and the duties involved. There would be no secrets left to be discovered in times of need. She pushed them at their training so that they would face Darkspawn and not flinch or falter. Day in and day out, she had recruited and pushed those recruits until they would have made even Duncan proud. She pushed them hard, but not as hard as she pushed herself.
“You’re gonna burn out, Warden,” Oghren had cautioned her. They had paused from a sparing match, both covered with bruises and sweat. Maly had sagged down next to him, leaning against the wall. The nug-lover had gotten past her magic’s reach and landed a goodly number of blows before she could retreat. Damn, but he was fast.
“What do you mean? Should I switch to ice spells then,” she laughed carelessly, taking a drink of water from the dipper in the pail between them
“I mean, I seen this before, you sodding fool,” Oghren glared at her, “In fact, I believe you yanked me outta somethin’ just like this,” he gestured with a steel-covered fist, “You’re pushin’ yourself til there’s nothin’ left. Don’t be a fool. The Wardens need you.”
“And they have me, of course,” Maly replied, refusing to meet his stare, “Am I not the first up each morning and the last to rest each night? Am I not out every few weeks seeking out new recruits? Do I not lead parties to hunt down remaining Darkspawn? Am I not in Denerim dealing with that **** of a queen to keep us safe from politics?”
“They have your body but not your soul, girl,” Oghren sighed and shook his head, “I don’t like this, Maly. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Then feel free to return to Denerim or Orzamarr,” Maly spat out, standing quickly, “Because I do not care to listen to yet another person whine at me that I am not acting how they desire me to act. I am doing my damnable duty, so everyone should bloody well be pleased.”
Oghren’s brows all but hit his hairline. He had seen the tiny mage angry before but never like this. On the one hand, it was rather funny. She all but quivered with rage and her cheeks were blood red. On the other, well, this was not the Maly he had grown fond of. Such anger lurking so close to the surface… It worried him. He drew in a breath to comment but she rushed on.
“As far as I am concerned, Ferelden got their precious hero, got saved from the Blight, and is safe from civil war. Their Wardens are flourishing and everyone can just kiss my arse and leave me alone.”
She had stalked away, leaving her friend staring at her back in shock. Never had she seen Oghren speechless. Sadly though, that was the last time she had seen him. He had left that afternoon, without a good-bye. It had been her own fault. She had made such a mess of things, pushing everyone away. It had been too late to use Wynne’s advice on Alistair, but on the rest of her companions… Each had been pushed away, some more gently than others. The better to guard their hearts, or so she kept telling herself. And now, she lay in bed, alone but for the dreams waiting for her in the Fade.
Maly listened to the quiet crackling of the flames in the hearth. If she strained her ears, she could almost hear the laughing of her old companions. How she missed them all. She had not thought that she would end up so alone or so lonely. Maly’s lips twisted into a semblance of a smile, though tinged with pain. It had been her choice though, but only after she had been given no other.
Oh, but why had those children come to her door? Why had they opened a heart purposefully left closed? She honestly did not know why she had begun regaling them with her tales. Could it be the loneliness that she had lived with for so long? Was it because of the nightmares that were beginning once again?
“Well, deal with it, old woman,” she snarled at herself, “You are too old to rage like you once did. And besides, Wynne isn’t here to stop you.”
With a groan, she pushed herself out of the chair and made her way slowly to her bed. She was weary but did not want to face what would be waiting for her in sleep. And yet, the heaviness of her eyes left her little choice. It seemed that her choices had been taken away ever since that moment on top of Fort Drakon. Even now, she could feel the anger, the hate, the betrayal of that moment.
Maly slid beneath her sheets and lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Love had vanished in a single moment that still stood out starkly in her mind. How could he have done something so stupid? So selfish? Fool man! Oh, how she had raged once she was well enough to get out of bed. Only Wynne’s magic had kept her from burning the room down in a fit of pique.
It was so long ago and she could still feel the fire of her anger. That fire had propelled her forward. She had recruited new Wardens and rebuilt as though her very life depended on it. She drove them hard, striving to make certain each learned the lore and the duties involved. There would be no secrets left to be discovered in times of need. She pushed them at their training so that they would face Darkspawn and not flinch or falter. Day in and day out, she had recruited and pushed those recruits until they would have made even Duncan proud. She pushed them hard, but not as hard as she pushed herself.
“You’re gonna burn out, Warden,” Oghren had cautioned her. They had paused from a sparing match, both covered with bruises and sweat. Maly had sagged down next to him, leaning against the wall. The nug-lover had gotten past her magic’s reach and landed a goodly number of blows before she could retreat. Damn, but he was fast.
“What do you mean? Should I switch to ice spells then,” she laughed carelessly, taking a drink of water from the dipper in the pail between them
“I mean, I seen this before, you sodding fool,” Oghren glared at her, “In fact, I believe you yanked me outta somethin’ just like this,” he gestured with a steel-covered fist, “You’re pushin’ yourself til there’s nothin’ left. Don’t be a fool. The Wardens need you.”
“And they have me, of course,” Maly replied, refusing to meet his stare, “Am I not the first up each morning and the last to rest each night? Am I not out every few weeks seeking out new recruits? Do I not lead parties to hunt down remaining Darkspawn? Am I not in Denerim dealing with that **** of a queen to keep us safe from politics?”
“They have your body but not your soul, girl,” Oghren sighed and shook his head, “I don’t like this, Maly. I don’t like it one bit.”
“Then feel free to return to Denerim or Orzamarr,” Maly spat out, standing quickly, “Because I do not care to listen to yet another person whine at me that I am not acting how they desire me to act. I am doing my damnable duty, so everyone should bloody well be pleased.”
Oghren’s brows all but hit his hairline. He had seen the tiny mage angry before but never like this. On the one hand, it was rather funny. She all but quivered with rage and her cheeks were blood red. On the other, well, this was not the Maly he had grown fond of. Such anger lurking so close to the surface… It worried him. He drew in a breath to comment but she rushed on.
“As far as I am concerned, Ferelden got their precious hero, got saved from the Blight, and is safe from civil war. Their Wardens are flourishing and everyone can just kiss my arse and leave me alone.”
She had stalked away, leaving her friend staring at her back in shock. Never had she seen Oghren speechless. Sadly though, that was the last time she had seen him. He had left that afternoon, without a good-bye. It had been her own fault. She had made such a mess of things, pushing everyone away. It had been too late to use Wynne’s advice on Alistair, but on the rest of her companions… Each had been pushed away, some more gently than others. The better to guard their hearts, or so she kept telling herself. And now, she lay in bed, alone but for the dreams waiting for her in the Fade.
Modifié par AdorableAnarchist, 18 janvier 2010 - 01:01 .
#34
Posté 18 janvier 2010 - 05:33
AdorableAnarchist
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She could smell the stench of death and decay. It hung, all but visible, in the air and clung to every surface. Maly swallowed against the acrid bile in her throat and slowly turned to face her dream.
The Brood Mother chittered, suggestively running her tentacles over her massive, fleshy body. She tilted her head, studying Maly intently and then opened her mouth.
“This is what you will become, Warden,” the creature chuckled softly, tentacles flowing endlessly over and around pasty flesh. “You have none to go with you, none to give you that final blessing of darkness.”
“I did what I had to do,” Maly threw back her head in challenge, not bothering to question why the beast could speak, “I kept them safe.”
“Really,” the soft laughter seemed to boom in the chamber, teasing the hem of Maly’s robes, “Was it for their safety or yours, Warden?”
“Look at you,” tentacles erupted next to her, stroking the fine wool of Maly’s robes, “What are you now, Warden? Are you even a Warden, or did you run from them too? Warden, Mage, Hero,” the Brood Mother’s tentacles continued to stroke Maly’s robes as a few moved to her hair, “You were everything and now? Nothing.”
Maly stepped back, shaking off the seeking tentacles. Pulling on her will, she forced the scene away from her mind. She was, if nothing else, a mage still. She would not allow the Fade to control her. Tendrils of images flew before her eyes as she stood straighter. The years fell beside her as the whirlwind of images continued. After all, she could control the Fade, why not remember herself as she used to be?
“Shall I make the rude joke about being happy to see you, or will you,” the voice whispered beside her right ear. “And no, that’s not a dagger in my pocket.”
Maly’s lips twitched as she turned, facing the Antivan elf who rarely was without words. She arched a brow and assumed her most prim expression, “You are a wretch.”
“I, of course, know this,” Zevran perched on a stone wall as the scene shifted. It was a pretty stretch of Fereldan road. Maly remembered it well. They had stopped for lunch and the companionable teasing had deteriorated into a fight with the remains of the meal. She sighed and leaned against the wall beside her old friend.
“Why are you here, Zev,” Maly asked sadly, “I’ve already seen the Brood Mother and been reminded of my fate, I spent the day regretting everything I have done. Are you here to torment me too?”
“My dear Warden,” he laughed, reaching up to pull on a curl that had escaped from its pins, “I am here to remind you of the good times. You forget them so easily.”
“I had to,” Maly shook her head away from his fingers, “If I let myself remember,” her voice trailed off, “It hurt too much.”
“You did not let us see that,” Zevran’s voice was accusing and Maly realized the light-hearted banter was not to continue, “You did not give us the chance to help you. All we saw and felt was your anger. Shall we speak of hurt, my dear Warden? The tears that Leliana shed from your sharp and hateful tongue? The way the years seemed to pile on Wynne’s shoulders because she was not allowed to comfort someone she considered a daughter?”
Maly reeled back as struck, but Zevran continued, “How about Sten and Etzian, banished from the sight of someone they both loved and respected. Banished without even a thought to what such a betrayal would do to their spirits? As for Oghren, I believe you remember how that went.”
She shook her head, hands balling into fists at her side, “No, Zev, I beg you, stop.”
Any thoughts of controlling the Fade flew through her mind as the assassin stalked over til he was but a breath away, “I would have helped you piece yourself and your heart back together,” he whispered, his fingers trailing up her arms til he gripped her shoulders. He shook the tiny mage until her eyes met his, “We all would have helped you, but you shoved us away as though we meant nothing to you.”
His eyes burned into hers and his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders, “Were we nothing but tools to you? Perhaps the Crows misjudged you even more by not seeing how much like them you operated, dear Warden,” he twisted the familiar endearment into something hateful. Maly struggled, but he only gripped her tighter.
“Please, Zev,” she hated how her voice rose, how tears clogged her throat and swam in her eyes. “I never meant it like that.”
The elf pushed her away, staring down at her impassively as she stumbled and fell, “Pity it is too late for you to tell us this, Malaya. For your friends went to their graves thinking only of your hatred.”
The fire had died down, casting only a rosy glow over the room. Shadows danced in the corners. The old mage lay in bed, her eyes open and her cheeks wet. Had her friends truly believed that she hated them? Maly struggled to sit up, scraping at the tears on her face. She had not cried in decades. She leaned back against her pillows and tried to remember when… Ahh, yes, the night she had visited Avernus in his tower. The pain had been more than even the Joining. Tears had fallen then but for honor not pity. Maly pressed her fists against her eyes, willing the images form her dream to go away. Damn her honor.
The Brood Mother chittered, suggestively running her tentacles over her massive, fleshy body. She tilted her head, studying Maly intently and then opened her mouth.
“This is what you will become, Warden,” the creature chuckled softly, tentacles flowing endlessly over and around pasty flesh. “You have none to go with you, none to give you that final blessing of darkness.”
“I did what I had to do,” Maly threw back her head in challenge, not bothering to question why the beast could speak, “I kept them safe.”
“Really,” the soft laughter seemed to boom in the chamber, teasing the hem of Maly’s robes, “Was it for their safety or yours, Warden?”
“Look at you,” tentacles erupted next to her, stroking the fine wool of Maly’s robes, “What are you now, Warden? Are you even a Warden, or did you run from them too? Warden, Mage, Hero,” the Brood Mother’s tentacles continued to stroke Maly’s robes as a few moved to her hair, “You were everything and now? Nothing.”
Maly stepped back, shaking off the seeking tentacles. Pulling on her will, she forced the scene away from her mind. She was, if nothing else, a mage still. She would not allow the Fade to control her. Tendrils of images flew before her eyes as she stood straighter. The years fell beside her as the whirlwind of images continued. After all, she could control the Fade, why not remember herself as she used to be?
“Shall I make the rude joke about being happy to see you, or will you,” the voice whispered beside her right ear. “And no, that’s not a dagger in my pocket.”
Maly’s lips twitched as she turned, facing the Antivan elf who rarely was without words. She arched a brow and assumed her most prim expression, “You are a wretch.”
“I, of course, know this,” Zevran perched on a stone wall as the scene shifted. It was a pretty stretch of Fereldan road. Maly remembered it well. They had stopped for lunch and the companionable teasing had deteriorated into a fight with the remains of the meal. She sighed and leaned against the wall beside her old friend.
“Why are you here, Zev,” Maly asked sadly, “I’ve already seen the Brood Mother and been reminded of my fate, I spent the day regretting everything I have done. Are you here to torment me too?”
“My dear Warden,” he laughed, reaching up to pull on a curl that had escaped from its pins, “I am here to remind you of the good times. You forget them so easily.”
“I had to,” Maly shook her head away from his fingers, “If I let myself remember,” her voice trailed off, “It hurt too much.”
“You did not let us see that,” Zevran’s voice was accusing and Maly realized the light-hearted banter was not to continue, “You did not give us the chance to help you. All we saw and felt was your anger. Shall we speak of hurt, my dear Warden? The tears that Leliana shed from your sharp and hateful tongue? The way the years seemed to pile on Wynne’s shoulders because she was not allowed to comfort someone she considered a daughter?”
Maly reeled back as struck, but Zevran continued, “How about Sten and Etzian, banished from the sight of someone they both loved and respected. Banished without even a thought to what such a betrayal would do to their spirits? As for Oghren, I believe you remember how that went.”
She shook her head, hands balling into fists at her side, “No, Zev, I beg you, stop.”
Any thoughts of controlling the Fade flew through her mind as the assassin stalked over til he was but a breath away, “I would have helped you piece yourself and your heart back together,” he whispered, his fingers trailing up her arms til he gripped her shoulders. He shook the tiny mage until her eyes met his, “We all would have helped you, but you shoved us away as though we meant nothing to you.”
His eyes burned into hers and his fingers dug painfully into her shoulders, “Were we nothing but tools to you? Perhaps the Crows misjudged you even more by not seeing how much like them you operated, dear Warden,” he twisted the familiar endearment into something hateful. Maly struggled, but he only gripped her tighter.
“Please, Zev,” she hated how her voice rose, how tears clogged her throat and swam in her eyes. “I never meant it like that.”
The elf pushed her away, staring down at her impassively as she stumbled and fell, “Pity it is too late for you to tell us this, Malaya. For your friends went to their graves thinking only of your hatred.”
The fire had died down, casting only a rosy glow over the room. Shadows danced in the corners. The old mage lay in bed, her eyes open and her cheeks wet. Had her friends truly believed that she hated them? Maly struggled to sit up, scraping at the tears on her face. She had not cried in decades. She leaned back against her pillows and tried to remember when… Ahh, yes, the night she had visited Avernus in his tower. The pain had been more than even the Joining. Tears had fallen then but for honor not pity. Maly pressed her fists against her eyes, willing the images form her dream to go away. Damn her honor.
#35
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 02:18
Inzhuna
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I've just discovered this gem of a fanfic 
Really enjoyed reading it and want MOAR
Really enjoyed reading it and want MOAR
#36
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 02:26
AdorableAnarchist
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Aww, thank you! It was a long, cranky day and this just made me smile!
Not sure what will come next... I'm waiting on Maly to let me know. I'm such a geek, but I'll probably dream the next installment tonight. LOL
Not sure what will come next... I'm waiting on Maly to let me know. I'm such a geek, but I'll probably dream the next installment tonight. LOL
#37
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 02:50
Kulkodar
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I'm not usually so engaged and so looking forward to the next chapter, but yours and one other are very well written and I check here all too often for the next bit. Please do keep it coming when you can... I'll do my best to be patient 
#38
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 02:57
AdorableAnarchist
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Thank you! I will do my best to keep cranking them out. I'm currently debating with Hubby if Maly should find her atonement or if this should end badly... Any thoughts, folks?
#39
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 03:53
tallon1982
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Write up two different versions? Then the reader can pick how they want it to end hehe
#40
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 12:24
Shadow of Light Dragon
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Ouch, I always love dream/nightmare sequences. Now you've got me wanting to write one. XD Nicely done. The whole "We all would have helped you, but you shoved us away as though we meant nothing to you.” strikes a cool note.
I'll have to read the whole thing properly once I get some sleep!
I'll have to read the whole thing properly once I get some sleep!
#41
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 01:02
AdorableAnarchist
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tallon1982 wrote...
Write up two different versions? Then the reader can pick how they want it to end hehe
Greedy, greedy!
But, it is an interesting idea... We shall see how it shakes out. I have the idea and several paragraphs in my head for the next installment. We'll see if I can find time to write it today.
#42
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 06:27
jenovan
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Oooh, beautiful and painful dream sequence! Having Zevran deliver that last part seems especially poignant (or maybe I'm a little biased..). Looking forward to more, as usual! XD
#43
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 07:25
AdorableAnarchist
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I have to admit, Jenovan, writing that part hurt a bit and re-reading it makes me a little chokey.
#44
Posté 19 janvier 2010 - 08:19
jenovan
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I could definitely see that. 
Been there a few times... sometimes a character's pain is a little too relatable... 
Been there a few times... sometimes a character's pain is a little too relatable...
#45
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 02:35
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With a nod to Mary Kirby’s “Interview with Loghain.” social.bioware.com/forum/1/topic/47/index/640488&lf=8This is just a little vignette to get us to the meat (pardon the pun) of the story.
“Good morning, Mistress Malaya,” the serving girl smiled brightly as she set down the breakfast tray and moved to pull open the curtains. Sunshine tumbled into the room, chasing the last of the shadows from the corners.
“Good morning, child,’ Maly replied, slowly getting out of bed. She had not been able to capture sleep after waking from the nightmares. The girl helped her with her robe and settled her in at the tiny table by the window.
“Cook thought you’d like some pancakes today since she had a special treat come in yesterday.”
Maly’s nose quivered as she caught a scent that she had dearly missed, “Pancakes and fried nug?”
“Indeed,” the serving girl laughed, “And knowing how you eat like a teenage apprentice, she saved you extra.”
Maly patted the girl’s hand with a smile, “Thank you both, my dear.”
The old mage contemplated her meal as the girl swirled around the room, setting it to rights. She chattered like a little bird and the music of her voice rising and falling was a balm to Maly’s bruised spirits. She was still shaken from the dreams that had haunted her in the night. Had her friends really thought she hated them? Maly swallowed against a lump in her throat and reached for a piece of the crispy nug. She could not let herself think of it. It was too late for regrets. She had made her decisions and had to live with the consequences.
“And, I’m supposed to tell you that there’s a Grey Warden here to see you, Mistress,” the girl’s voice interrupted Maly’s thoughts. A single silvery brow lifted in response as her mouth was too full to speak.
“He says it’s important that he speak with you,” the girl’s voice lowered as though someone might overhear, “I heard that the First Enchanter got riled when the Warden refused to tell him why he wanted to see you.”
“Interesting,” Maly leaned back in her chair, another piece of nug idly clasped between two fingers, “Very well. Let the Warden know that I shall meet with him in a candlemark. I’d like a chance to finish eating and to dress.”
“Shall I help you?”
“Oh yes, my dear girl,” Maly smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, “Yes, I think I will dress especially for this visit.”
“Good morning, Mistress Malaya,” the serving girl smiled brightly as she set down the breakfast tray and moved to pull open the curtains. Sunshine tumbled into the room, chasing the last of the shadows from the corners.
“Good morning, child,’ Maly replied, slowly getting out of bed. She had not been able to capture sleep after waking from the nightmares. The girl helped her with her robe and settled her in at the tiny table by the window.
“Cook thought you’d like some pancakes today since she had a special treat come in yesterday.”
Maly’s nose quivered as she caught a scent that she had dearly missed, “Pancakes and fried nug?”
“Indeed,” the serving girl laughed, “And knowing how you eat like a teenage apprentice, she saved you extra.”
Maly patted the girl’s hand with a smile, “Thank you both, my dear.”
The old mage contemplated her meal as the girl swirled around the room, setting it to rights. She chattered like a little bird and the music of her voice rising and falling was a balm to Maly’s bruised spirits. She was still shaken from the dreams that had haunted her in the night. Had her friends really thought she hated them? Maly swallowed against a lump in her throat and reached for a piece of the crispy nug. She could not let herself think of it. It was too late for regrets. She had made her decisions and had to live with the consequences.
“And, I’m supposed to tell you that there’s a Grey Warden here to see you, Mistress,” the girl’s voice interrupted Maly’s thoughts. A single silvery brow lifted in response as her mouth was too full to speak.
“He says it’s important that he speak with you,” the girl’s voice lowered as though someone might overhear, “I heard that the First Enchanter got riled when the Warden refused to tell him why he wanted to see you.”
“Interesting,” Maly leaned back in her chair, another piece of nug idly clasped between two fingers, “Very well. Let the Warden know that I shall meet with him in a candlemark. I’d like a chance to finish eating and to dress.”
“Shall I help you?”
“Oh yes, my dear girl,” Maly smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, “Yes, I think I will dress especially for this visit.”
Modifié par AdorableAnarchist, 20 janvier 2010 - 02:36 .
#46
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 03:48
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She might be old, but Maly still knew how to set a scene. If she was going to meet this unknown Warden who came without notice, then, by the Maker, she was going to do it properly. He would meet the Hero of Fereldan, the ex-Commander of the Grey Wardens, a Senior Enchanter of the Circle of Mages and not a tired old woman who simply sought to fade away into oblivion.
Her chair had been angled so catch the sunlight that streamed into her room. Maly knew that it made her silvered hair blaze like a nimbus of power. Her robes were of the finest silk, saved from the days when she had had to meet with royalty and play the part of the Hero. They still fit her slender figure despite her appetite. Hanging between her breasts rested the pendant Duncan had placed around her neck – her Warden’s Oath.
“Good morning, Warden Malaya,” the Warden swept into her chambers with a charming smile and a bow.
“And to you, ser,” Maly gestured to a chair by hers, “To what do I owe this surprise of a visit?”
“Perhaps I should introduce myself? Despite your fabled directness, I do find social niceties, well, nice,” the young man flashed his smile again. Maly narrowed her eyes. She did not trust this one. He was too charming, too slick. He reminded her a bit of Zevran. Yes, with his thick, curly hair the color of fine mahogany and blue eyes that sparkled with the promise of mischief, he bore watching carefully.
He leaned forward and gently took her hand in his, raising it to brush his lips against the papery skin, “I am Warden Jaxon and it is my extreme pleasure to finally meet you.”
Maly offered a thin smile as she withdrew her hand. She studied the young man before her, intrigued by the fact that he returned the study with completely unabashed openness.
“And do I measure up, young one,” she asked, a small chuckle hinted in her voice.
“Frankly, I did not know what to expect,” Jaxon responded, leaning back in his chair and stretching his feet out with a sigh, “Forgive me, Warden, but it was a long ride here.”
“And just why did you come, Jaxon,” Maly turned towards the table the serving girl had set up, “Wine? Tea?”
“No, thank you, but shall I pour you anything,” he asked.
Maly’s brows rose at the man’s manners. She shook her head, “No, lad, and quit stalling. Why did the Warden Commander send you to see me? I sincerely doubt it is to check up on me,” she snorted, “After the way he and I parted ways the last time, I believe he’d be happy to toss me into the Dark Roads and shut the doors.”
Jaxon clasped his hands in his lap, “Well, some records were found in Soldier’s Keep, dealing with a mage that you encountered. The Commander wanted to speak to you about him.”
“Avernus,” Maly asked, carefully putting surprise into her voice. She did not need the Wardens poking into her dealings with the mage. That was something best left undiscovered. “By the Maker, why would he want to know of Avernus? He’s dead and buried.”
“And yet, you are not,” Jaxon pinned the old mage with an intense stare, “You have managed to survive the Taint longer than any Warden on record. Surely you can see why we would be interested in you.”
“Really,” Maly smiled slowly. It was a look that many young Wardens and apprentice mages had learned to fear. “I find it interesting that you are here now, of all times, to question me about someone who died so very long ago. As far as I know, my living this long has to deal with the fact that I was on the tower when the Archdemon was killed. That’s what I was told by the Orlesian Wardens.”
Jaxon waved away her explanation, “The Commander would just like you to come and visit Amaranthine for a few days and speak with him and some mages.”
“I see. And how does he expect me to get there? I can barely move across this room. Shall I fly there are the great, swooping wings and a giant bird?”
Her sarcastic comment, said without thought, took her by surprise. Giant birds… Flemeth’s rescue… No, it was not the time to let the past capture her thoughts. She had to remain in control. This boy was sneaky and smart. She admired him but was wary.
“Actually, we thought a litter and a slow pace might do for you,” Jaxon offered a charming smile, “If there is anything we can do to make you comfortable during the journey, you have but to ask me and I will make it happen.”
“You speak as though it is an assumption.”
“Do you really wish to remain here, cooped up, with only dry, boring mages as company when you could be out in the fresh air with me,” Jaxon laughed.
“Hush, you, I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” Maly’s cheeks paled and she swayed in her chair as Wynne flashed into her mind. She had said that to Alistair often. She could see them, as clear as though no time had passed. Wynne teasing Alistair about bedding younger men and Alistair blushing as the rest of the party laughed under their breath. It hurt so much.
“My lady,” Jaxon was out of his seat and at Maly’s side in a flash, “Are you alright? Shall I send for someone?”
“No, no, just memories,” Maly shook her head slowly, trying to shake the images from it. She sighed. The nightmares were getting stronger with each passing night. It would probably be best if she were with the Wardens. They could get her to Orzammar easier than the mages.
“Very well, Jaxon,” Maly sighed, once again feeling the inevitable net of Fate drawing around her, “We can leave tomorrow.”
Her chair had been angled so catch the sunlight that streamed into her room. Maly knew that it made her silvered hair blaze like a nimbus of power. Her robes were of the finest silk, saved from the days when she had had to meet with royalty and play the part of the Hero. They still fit her slender figure despite her appetite. Hanging between her breasts rested the pendant Duncan had placed around her neck – her Warden’s Oath.
“Good morning, Warden Malaya,” the Warden swept into her chambers with a charming smile and a bow.
“And to you, ser,” Maly gestured to a chair by hers, “To what do I owe this surprise of a visit?”
“Perhaps I should introduce myself? Despite your fabled directness, I do find social niceties, well, nice,” the young man flashed his smile again. Maly narrowed her eyes. She did not trust this one. He was too charming, too slick. He reminded her a bit of Zevran. Yes, with his thick, curly hair the color of fine mahogany and blue eyes that sparkled with the promise of mischief, he bore watching carefully.
He leaned forward and gently took her hand in his, raising it to brush his lips against the papery skin, “I am Warden Jaxon and it is my extreme pleasure to finally meet you.”
Maly offered a thin smile as she withdrew her hand. She studied the young man before her, intrigued by the fact that he returned the study with completely unabashed openness.
“And do I measure up, young one,” she asked, a small chuckle hinted in her voice.
“Frankly, I did not know what to expect,” Jaxon responded, leaning back in his chair and stretching his feet out with a sigh, “Forgive me, Warden, but it was a long ride here.”
“And just why did you come, Jaxon,” Maly turned towards the table the serving girl had set up, “Wine? Tea?”
“No, thank you, but shall I pour you anything,” he asked.
Maly’s brows rose at the man’s manners. She shook her head, “No, lad, and quit stalling. Why did the Warden Commander send you to see me? I sincerely doubt it is to check up on me,” she snorted, “After the way he and I parted ways the last time, I believe he’d be happy to toss me into the Dark Roads and shut the doors.”
Jaxon clasped his hands in his lap, “Well, some records were found in Soldier’s Keep, dealing with a mage that you encountered. The Commander wanted to speak to you about him.”
“Avernus,” Maly asked, carefully putting surprise into her voice. She did not need the Wardens poking into her dealings with the mage. That was something best left undiscovered. “By the Maker, why would he want to know of Avernus? He’s dead and buried.”
“And yet, you are not,” Jaxon pinned the old mage with an intense stare, “You have managed to survive the Taint longer than any Warden on record. Surely you can see why we would be interested in you.”
“Really,” Maly smiled slowly. It was a look that many young Wardens and apprentice mages had learned to fear. “I find it interesting that you are here now, of all times, to question me about someone who died so very long ago. As far as I know, my living this long has to deal with the fact that I was on the tower when the Archdemon was killed. That’s what I was told by the Orlesian Wardens.”
Jaxon waved away her explanation, “The Commander would just like you to come and visit Amaranthine for a few days and speak with him and some mages.”
“I see. And how does he expect me to get there? I can barely move across this room. Shall I fly there are the great, swooping wings and a giant bird?”
Her sarcastic comment, said without thought, took her by surprise. Giant birds… Flemeth’s rescue… No, it was not the time to let the past capture her thoughts. She had to remain in control. This boy was sneaky and smart. She admired him but was wary.
“Actually, we thought a litter and a slow pace might do for you,” Jaxon offered a charming smile, “If there is anything we can do to make you comfortable during the journey, you have but to ask me and I will make it happen.”
“You speak as though it is an assumption.”
“Do you really wish to remain here, cooped up, with only dry, boring mages as company when you could be out in the fresh air with me,” Jaxon laughed.
“Hush, you, I’m old enough to be your grandmother,” Maly’s cheeks paled and she swayed in her chair as Wynne flashed into her mind. She had said that to Alistair often. She could see them, as clear as though no time had passed. Wynne teasing Alistair about bedding younger men and Alistair blushing as the rest of the party laughed under their breath. It hurt so much.
“My lady,” Jaxon was out of his seat and at Maly’s side in a flash, “Are you alright? Shall I send for someone?”
“No, no, just memories,” Maly shook her head slowly, trying to shake the images from it. She sighed. The nightmares were getting stronger with each passing night. It would probably be best if she were with the Wardens. They could get her to Orzammar easier than the mages.
“Very well, Jaxon,” Maly sighed, once again feeling the inevitable net of Fate drawing around her, “We can leave tomorrow.”
#47
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 04:32
AdorableAnarchist
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Jaxon studied the old Warden as she reclined in the litter. She seemed to take in every detail of the lands that they passed. Time and time again, he would see a flash of recognition and then, again, he would see that tell-tale paling of her cheeks. There was something up with the cagey old woman and he could not leave a good mystery alone.
“I trust you’re comfortable, Warden,” he asked as he moved his horse to ride beside Maly.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, offering what appeared to be the first genuine smile he had seen. He could see past the years to the beauty she once had. The tales had not done her justice, but then, they had not focused on her looks, only her deeds.
“We will be stopping soon for the evening. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Maly found herself surprised into a laugh. She was starting to like this Jaxon and it worried her. She would have to be extra careful.
The young warden stayed close to her as the group made camp. He made certain that her every want and need were attended to. He spoke to her with a mix of flirtatious charm and easy respect. He thought it might be a balm to the fact that all of the others barely spoke to her, only whispering behind her back.
His mission could not fail. The Commander had entrusted him to bring Warden Malaya back so she could be questioned about her longevity. The very fact that she had survived so long was beyond belief. The Orlesians put it down to her having been on the tower when the Archdemon had been killed by Prince Alistair. Perhaps it could have been so. Jaxon teased a piece of bark from the log he used as a seat.
He had been the one to find the papers in Avernus’ tower. They spoke of experiments most unsavory and of the summoning of demons. Towards the back of the well-worn journal had been notations about his discussions with the then Warden Commander. Apparently, the two had spent much time together, mage to mage. Had she learned Avernus’ form of blood magic? He could not believe that. She seemed so normal, if a bit reserved and cool. But, what if the tales of Avernus were true? What if the reason that Malaya had lived as long as she did had nothing to do with the Archdemon and everything to do with Blood Magic?
“Jaxon.” The fact that she used his name startled him more than the fact she had come up behind him as silent as a ghost. He turned to find Maly standing behind him, leaning on her staff.
“Yes, Warden,” he answered, scooting over to one side of the log and patting it in invitation. Maly smiled and slowly seated herself on the log beside him.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, staring into the fire, “You have been very kind to me, kinder than I deserved.”
“Ahh, but dear lady, you deserve every kindness,” Jaxon turned slightly towards her, laughing into her serious expression.
She reached up and patted him on the cheek. He caught her hand and held it. “Warden, I know this was not easy for you. If you can help us stave off the Taint for even a few years,” his voice trailed away.
“Please, call me Malaya or,” she paused and then took that final step, “Or call me Maly.”
“Maly, eh,” Jaxon shook off his mood easily and chuckled as she retrieved her hand, “Maly seems to suit you best. I do not think you are as serious as ‘Malaya’ sounds. In fact, I would bet ten sovereigns that you were very mischievous in your day.”
Maly found herself warming to his easy manner despite her best efforts and allowed herself a chuckle, “Oh, and what gave you that idea? Are there stories of me, perhaps?”
“Only those that were written by bards,” Jaxon tilted his head closer to her, “Your question intrigues me, Maly. Are there stories of you I should know?”
“You are far too young to hear them, my dear, far too young.”
“I trust you’re comfortable, Warden,” he asked as he moved his horse to ride beside Maly.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, offering what appeared to be the first genuine smile he had seen. He could see past the years to the beauty she once had. The tales had not done her justice, but then, they had not focused on her looks, only her deeds.
“We will be stopping soon for the evening. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
Maly found herself surprised into a laugh. She was starting to like this Jaxon and it worried her. She would have to be extra careful.
The young warden stayed close to her as the group made camp. He made certain that her every want and need were attended to. He spoke to her with a mix of flirtatious charm and easy respect. He thought it might be a balm to the fact that all of the others barely spoke to her, only whispering behind her back.
His mission could not fail. The Commander had entrusted him to bring Warden Malaya back so she could be questioned about her longevity. The very fact that she had survived so long was beyond belief. The Orlesians put it down to her having been on the tower when the Archdemon had been killed by Prince Alistair. Perhaps it could have been so. Jaxon teased a piece of bark from the log he used as a seat.
He had been the one to find the papers in Avernus’ tower. They spoke of experiments most unsavory and of the summoning of demons. Towards the back of the well-worn journal had been notations about his discussions with the then Warden Commander. Apparently, the two had spent much time together, mage to mage. Had she learned Avernus’ form of blood magic? He could not believe that. She seemed so normal, if a bit reserved and cool. But, what if the tales of Avernus were true? What if the reason that Malaya had lived as long as she did had nothing to do with the Archdemon and everything to do with Blood Magic?
“Jaxon.” The fact that she used his name startled him more than the fact she had come up behind him as silent as a ghost. He turned to find Maly standing behind him, leaning on her staff.
“Yes, Warden,” he answered, scooting over to one side of the log and patting it in invitation. Maly smiled and slowly seated herself on the log beside him.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, staring into the fire, “You have been very kind to me, kinder than I deserved.”
“Ahh, but dear lady, you deserve every kindness,” Jaxon turned slightly towards her, laughing into her serious expression.
She reached up and patted him on the cheek. He caught her hand and held it. “Warden, I know this was not easy for you. If you can help us stave off the Taint for even a few years,” his voice trailed away.
“Please, call me Malaya or,” she paused and then took that final step, “Or call me Maly.”
“Maly, eh,” Jaxon shook off his mood easily and chuckled as she retrieved her hand, “Maly seems to suit you best. I do not think you are as serious as ‘Malaya’ sounds. In fact, I would bet ten sovereigns that you were very mischievous in your day.”
Maly found herself warming to his easy manner despite her best efforts and allowed herself a chuckle, “Oh, and what gave you that idea? Are there stories of me, perhaps?”
“Only those that were written by bards,” Jaxon tilted his head closer to her, “Your question intrigues me, Maly. Are there stories of you I should know?”
“You are far too young to hear them, my dear, far too young.”
Modifié par AdorableAnarchist, 20 janvier 2010 - 04:32 .
#48
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 05:15
tevikolady
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Always a good read. Loving it. Did she, did she not partake in Avernus' reasearch, did the Archdemon have something to do with it. Definetly keeps me wanting more.
#50
Posté 20 janvier 2010 - 05:45
jenovan
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Oooh interesting, I do wonder what will come of this... whether it'll be good or bad (or possibly ... both? 
)
)
