Dragon Age: Semper ad Meliora

Live Without Fear

A dog might slink back to the hand it has bitten
And be forgiven, but a slave never.
If you would live, and live without fear, you must fight.
- Canticle of Shartan 9:7

Vyrantium, Tevinter Imperium, 9:36 Dragon

Only days after the turn of the year Idhren arrived back in Vyrantium at Canidius' side. The trip to Minrathous had been a mixed blessing. While the political side of things hadn't been nearly as interesting as Idhren had hoped, he had a sheaf of research notes stashed in the bottom of his luggage away from Canidius' prying eyes and a few fond memories to look back on. His fledgling friendship with Dorian was chief among those memories. He had seen the man only a handful of times, but each time they traded gossip and sarcastic barbs. And each time Idhren watched the man leave with a longing in his gut that he didn't want to acknowledge.

On Satinalia, while Canidius entertained guests at his mansion, Idhren ran free through the city, exploring side streets and admiring decorations as he enjoyed the festivities. The common folk were out in force, mingling with the upper classes as though such a thing were normal. He was pulled briefly into the celebrations of the local elven Liberati community on the edges of the slums, and for perhaps the first time in his life, Idhren did not feel out of place. They shared their food and drink as though he was family, and in return he performed magic tricks for the children. Real magic tricks; colored fire and flowers made of ice that made their eyes light up with wonder.

But nothing good lasts for long. Inevitably he had to return to Canidius' home, and from there to Vyrantium. And now that he had returned to his childhood home it was back to the usual routine.

At least he could see his family again. For months he'd been away, the longest since his time in the Circle. Two days after their return saw Idhren running down from the mansion like an excitable child, only to find his mother waiting at the gates of the compound. At first, the sight set Idhren running faster, but as he grew nearer something began to feel terribly wrong. Ashara was seated on an old stump just inside the gate, hunched and weary, her face drawn with concern. When she spotted her son the woman stood, slowly, hands on her knees as she pushed herself upright. Idhren came to a stop at the gate, hand on the latch but suddenly nervous to open it.

"It's your brother," she said without preamble. "It's not good."

She said nothing more as Idhren passed through the gate and took her arm to help her walk. The short trip to the hovel he had been born in seemed to take an age. Idhren's heart thundered in his chest; he could barely think except to imagine every possible worse case scenario.

The inside of the hovel was dim, and it reeked of blood. Sahren was laid out on one of the small cots, very nearly too tall for it, and for one horrible moment Idhren thought he was already dead. But his chest slowly rose and fell in shallow breaths, and when Idhren broke away from his mother's arm to approach the bedside Sahren's eyes flickered open. A threadbare blanket was pulled up over him, but all it did was cover any obvious sign of injury. Sahren was pale, even despite his sun tanned skin, with dark circles around his eyes and sunken cheeks. When his eyes finally focused on Idhren a faint smile tugged at his cracked lips. "You're back," he said, and his voice was as weak as he looked. Very briefly, Sahren made an effort to sit up, but hissed in pain and gave up after moving barely an inch. "Sorry I can't give you a hug. How was the capitol?"

At first Idhren could not form words to answer him. He sat down timidly on the edge of the cot, trying not to jostle his brother in any way. "Sahren..." It was the first word he could make his lips form. "What happened?"

"Ah, you know... The usual," his brother replied with what was probably meant to be a shrug, but instead was only the barest shifting of one shoulder.