Title: Vengeance in Grey
Author: The Phoenix King
Game: Dragon Age: Origins
Summary: Leliana considers the secrets she's been keeping, as Sagramor embarks on a mission of revenge. Side-story to The Grey Path for the Dragon Age Stories January 2013 Writing Challenge. Spoilers for The Grey Path ahead!
Word Count: 990 words in total, not counting title or this intro text.
Overall Rating: PG
Pairings: Tabris/Leliana
Disclaimer: Dragon Age characters, settings, and all in-game dialogue property of Bioware.
__________________________________________
Vengeance in Grey
Refugees scattered as the guards barged through the press of bodies occupying the market square in Denerim, lashing out with spearbutts and truncheons. They numbered thirteen, Arl Howe’s handpicked thugs, loyal to his coin and prone to extreme violence; bullies in plate mail that no reasonable person would dare provoke. Four of their number held the prize, two great strongboxes packed with gold and silver ingots “requisitioned” from the Denerim treasury, to be delivered to Vigil’s Keep. Disdaining the main streets, the thirteen cut through the city’s back alleys, weaving between the tightly packed houses of the poorer districts leading to the docks and the waiting ship. These were strong men, tough and confident of their abilities. Thus, they did not bother to look up to the rooftops, or else they might have seen a curious pair stalking their steps, the timber roofs creaking gently underfoot.
“Come on, Leliana,” Sagramor Tabris whispered urgently, leaping across the alley to the next rooftop. “The alley curves north up ahead, we’ll cut them off there.”
“Right,” the beautiful redhead answered, her voice betraying the sultry tones of Orlais. It had been a while since she had done something like this; a pursuit over rooftops, an ambush against an unsuspecting mark. Common enough during her time with Marjolaine, but she had not expected to be doing so again after devoting herself to the Chantry, nor for it to feel so natural. So… right.
Blue eyes turned questioningly towards the dark-haired elf, and Leliana felt a swift pang of regret. Sagramor was a kind man, a good one, but the discovery of the atrocities leveled upon the Alienage folk since his departure had brought forth a worrying anger. This raid was not being undertaken to benefit the people of Denerim, or even help them fight the darkspawn. He simply wanted Howe to pay for his crimes. Oh, my friend, do not let this consume you. The Maker will see justice done; there is no need to destroy yourself to bring his end.
But the words felt hollow even as they blossomed in her mind. She had done far worse during her time as a bard, against far more noble victims for far pettier reasons. How much hurt had she caused before Marjolaine’s betrayal opened her eyes? Her old life had been so full of murder and corruption; there were some days she doubted that even the Maker could forgive her. Would Sagramor understand? It was no secret that he was attracted to her, and she found herself reciprocating his affections, but the thought of revealing who she had been made her throat swell shut in disgust. It was shameful, perhaps even cowardly, but the past was not something she could easily bring into the light, not even for him.
We all have our secrets, pondered the Orlesian woman, thinking upon their strange little company. Alistair, courageous and flippant, Morrigan, beautiful yet terrible, the arrogant assassin Zevran and all the others, all hiding something. Too many secrets. Maker grant that it does not destroy us.
“This is the place,” Sagramor declared curtly, descending into the dark and twisting alleyway with an agility that belied the weight of the greatsword strapped at his back. An alley cat, black as night, hissed at the sudden intrusion and darted behind a nearby tenement. It was quiet here, wedged beneath the old buildings, with the majority of the city going about their daily affairs. If nothing else, it meant fewer civilians to get caught in the fight, a fact that both were thankful for. “Howe’s men are going to come right down the lane,” the elf explained, gesturing down the refuse-littered path. “Could you keep me covered from up there?”
“Of course,” replied Leliana, stringing and nocking her longbow. “Sagramor, are you sure this is something you want to do?”
The elf was silent for a moment, then the words spilled forth. “I don’t know how to fix this, Leliana. I promised that I would always look after my family and people, but while I was off being a Warden, the Alienage was being sacked by Howe, and now I don’t know if they’re alive or dead.”
“It’s not your fault, Sagramor. Even if you were here, you could not have stood against so many,” Leliana reassured him.
“You’re probably right, but I can’t help but feel that I should have at least been here to try.” His grey eyes, normally so bright and warm, gazed upon her sorrowfully. “It’s just— I know that revenge is a base and cruel motive, but Maker forgive me, I just want to give Howe a fraction of the pain he’s inflicted on so many people. It’s wrong, but it’s all I can think of doing. If you want to go, then I won’t hold it against you.”
“I swore to aid you, Sagramor, to whatever end. And I trust you to make the right decision, just—don’t lose yourself to despair.” She spoke soothingly now, words gossamer light in contrast to the clank of chainmail coming down the alley. “You are a good man, and meant for better things than this. Live, to save us all.”
“Thank you, Leliana. I trust to you help me with that. I trust you to do a great deal,” he said softly, sending her heart fluttering despite herself.
The thirteen thugs stopped, caught tight in the alley’s narrow confines. Those in the rear could only listen as those in front cried out in recognition of the Warden’s gaunt face, blades ripping from scabbards. “Three words, gentlemen,” Sagramor snarled, a lupine grin on his lips as he charged, greatsword raised. “The Alienage remembers!”
Curses were spat, the alley rang out with screams and clashing blades, and Leliana uttered a quick prayer for the Warden before letting the arrow fly. He trusts me, and that is enough. And perhaps it is time for the truth to be set free…