Chapter Text
The crowd of dwarves echoed through the halls as they lined up early to watch the spectacle of the Proving, especially with news of a Warden participating. The air was thick with anticipation and excitement.
In my separate chambers, I spent time preparing myself, both physically and mentally. Thoughts of Leliana filled my mind, and I felt a pang of guilt knowing she had to watch me go through this. I could almost feel her anxiety through the stone walls. I knew Wynne would be there to comfort her, sitting beside her as she tensed in the stands.
When the large bronze doors opened, the roar of the arena was deafening. The announcer called out my name, and it felt like every eye in the arena was on me. I took my sword in hand, loosening my wrist with a practiced flick. Memories of public sparring sessions with Roderick flickered through my mind, bringing a brief smile to my lips before I focused on my first opponent.
He was young, too young, and my heart ached at the thought of taking his life. I wished these battles didn’t have to be to the death. My support for Harrowmont was based purely on character, not personal vendetta. These dwarves were not noble warriors, many of them casteless, seeking honor and recognition despite the tattoos on their faces. I hated the system the dwarves built for themselves.
I took a deep breath and struck quickly, ensuring his death was as swift and painless as possible. As he fell, I nodded respectfully, “Honor to you and your house, brave warrior.”
The crowd, momentarily stunned by my show of respect, erupted into cheers and whispers of surprise.
Next, a pair of twins stepped into the arena. Outnumbered, I knew this would be a challenge. Leliana’s anxiety felt palpable, but I refused to look up at the crowd, focusing instead on the fight ahead.
The battle was intense. The twins were relentless, their coordinated attacks pushing me to my limits. I dodged and parried, every move calculated and precise. One of their blades nicked my face, a sharp sting followed by the taste of iron in my mouth. The wound was minor, but the crowd went wild at the sight of blood.
With a final, powerful strike, I took down the twins, ending the fight. The arena erupted into a frenzy, the dwarves shouting and cheering.
The next rounds allowed for duos and quads. Zevran, Sten, and Morrigan joined my side for the final match. I chose them because I knew Alistair and Leliana would understand why I didn’t want to put them in harm’s way.
The final fight against Bhelen’s men was brutal. Zevran’s agility and cunning kept the enemies off-balance, while Sten’s brute strength and Morrigan’s spells provided the perfect support. I led the charge, cutting through Bhelen’s men with precision and determination. We moved as one, each of us playing to our strengths and covering each other’s weaknesses.
When the final opponent fell, my name was announced, signaling the end of the Proving. The adrenaline surged through my veins as the crowd’s cheers echoed around us. Morrigan reached up to heal the cut on my face. “Something I learned from Wynne…” She smirked as I raised an eyebrow, teasing her.
“I listen to the old lady sometimes, believe it or not,” she laughed. “This should stop the bleeding, but it will scar a bit with how deep it got. I’m sure the ladies love that.”
I chuckled, grateful for her help. “Thanks, Morrigan.”
As we left the arena, I spotted Leliana in the stands, her face a mixture of relief and pride. The jealousy that she might have felt at sight of Morrigan caressing my cheek melted away when she saw my arms outstretched for her. I made my way to her in a tired walk as she ran into my arms, pulling her into a tight embrace.
“You were amazing,” she whispered, her eyes shining with emotion.
“I had to be,” I replied softly, my fingers gently brushing her cheek. “For you.”
The intensity of the Proving was behind us, but it wasn’t that simple.
Harrowmont needed more support to rally his followers. His plan was to take down Jarvia’s Carta that plagued Orzammar.
“That means we need to take down Jarvia,” Alistair grumbled.
I held my tongue because I agreed. Harrowmont was going to take credit for our work, but my focus was on securing the dwarves' support for the Blight. They were the darkspawn experts, the last piece of our army that we desperately needed.
Entering Dust Town, the stark contrast in wealth was staggering. It was a town of beggars, and crime was their only means of survival. We were attacked multiple times, but it was nothing that caused us much worry. Ralph alone was enough to chase most of them away. If it weren’t for their living conditions, I would find the sight of my dog biting their breeches off and running away to be more comedic.
Leliana’s keen eyes helped us track down the Carta Hideout.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and desperation. Jarvia, a twisted and diligent fighter, was waiting for us. She was cunning, leading me into traps that exploded with shrapnel or triggered hidden blades. Despite being handicapped by her tricks, I fought with precision and determination, each strike bringing me closer to victory.
Jarvia lunged at me with a wild, desperate fury, but I anticipated her move and sidestepped, delivering a powerful blow that sent her sprawling. Just as I thought I had the upper hand, a henchman tried to take advantage of the distraction, moving in from my blind spot. Before he could strike, Leliana’s arrow found its mark, and he fell to the ground.
“Watch your back, love,” she called, her voice steady despite the chaos.
With Jarvia and her Carta taken care of, we returned to Harrowmont’s headquarters. The stark contrast between the Diamond Quarter and Dust Town was glaring, and it disgusted me, but I kept my human opinions to myself.
Harrowmont greeted us with a grateful smile, but his request was far from over.
“You want more from us?” Alistair whined, exasperation evident in his voice. “Elissa put herself at risk for the Proving, we took down the Carta. What more can you possibly want?”
“For once, I agree with this airhead,” Morrigan added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Harrowmont explained, “I need the support of a Paragon to seal my case for the crown. The most obvious choice would be Paragon Branka, but she ventured into the Deep Roads a couple of years ago.”
I sighed, knowing this journey into the Deep Roads would be perilous but necessary. “We’ll find Branka,” I said firmly. “But this is the last favor, Harrowmont. We need your support for the Blight.”
He nodded, understanding the gravity of our mission. “I promise you will have it. Find Branka, and I will ensure the full support of Orzammar.”
My desire to push forward was hindered by my body's need for sleep. We added an extra night to our stay, and I soon found myself back under the sheets with Leliana. Though we had only been together for a short time, she could read me like a book. After she dozed off, her eyes fluttered open, noticing the bags growing under my eyes.
"Elissa," she whispered, her voice soft and concerned, "you look exhausted."
I sighed, sinking deeper into the mattress. "Being near the Deep Roads makes my nightmares more prominent."
Leliana shifted closer, her hand resting gently on my chest. "Nightmares? What do you dream about?"
I hesitated, but the comfort of her presence made it easier to open up. "The Deep Roads remind me of what makes Grey Wardens special... and cursed."
She listened intently, her eyes never leaving mine. I took a deep breath and continued, "There's a ritual we have to undergo called the Joining. We drink darkspawn blood to forge a connection with them. It's gruesome, and many don't survive."
Her eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent, encouraging me to go on. "During my Joining, a recruit died. It was brutal and terrifying. He was the first to take a sip and his body rejected the blood. Alistair and I don't talk about it often, but it haunts me."
Leliana's fingers found the Grey Warden necklace hidden under my sleep shirt, a small decorative speck in the center catching her eye. She lifted it gently. "Is this... is this the darkspawn blood?"
I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yes. It's a reminder of what we are, what we fight against. But it's not just the blood. Because of it, we sometimes share the archdemon's taunting messages. The nightmares... they aren't just memories. It's the archdemon communicating with the horde, and we get those same messages while we're vulnerable in the Fade, when we're asleep."
Leliana's eyes filled with empathy as she caressed the necklace and then looked back at me. "How can I help you, Elissa? What can I do?"
"You already are," I murmured, a tired smile tugging at my lips. "Just being here with me, understanding... it helps more than you know."
She leaned in, and we shared a series of sleepy, tender kisses, her lips warm and comforting against mine. The tension in my body slowly melted away, replaced by the soothing presence of her love.
"Try to rest now," she whispered against my lips. "We'll face everything together. If I feel you stirring, I’ll wake up. You are never alone."
With her arms around me, I finally allowed myself to join Leliana in the land of dreams, finding solace in her embrace as the nightmares faded into the background.
In the morning, I entered the main lobby, and Alistair offered me a warm mug. “You too, huh?”
I nodded sympathetically, “Let’s finish this work in Orzammar as quickly as possible. The Deep Roads will drive us mad.”
Before we got to the Deep Roads, we were stopped by a crude dwarven warrior. He had spiked ginger hair, a bare chin, but a long braided mustache.
“Have you seen a Grey Warden hereabouts?” His voice was gruff, and he smelled of booze. He continued without waiting for a response, “I’ve been privy to the rumor that he…or was it she — you understand this was many mugs ago — was searching for Branka on Lord Harrowmont’s own command.”
Wynne, concerned, interjected, “It is early in the morning to be drinking anything other than coffee or tea.”
Zevran was amused, “What does this Grey Warden look like, perhaps?”
The dwarf rambled on, “Stout and muscular, fair of face, but with a strong jaw and a bold nose, surrounded by a great glowing nimbus.”
Morrigan glanced at Alistair, then shook her head, leaving him to pout.
The dwarf continued, “If she’s a woman, she might be more slight, but her eyes will shine with the light of purity, and her large but chaste bosom will heave magnificently.”
Morrigan muffled a laugh. “Not sure about words such as purity and chaste.”
Leliana joined the peanut gallery. “Bosom is nice, though.”
My face was red with embarrassment.
The dwarf threw his hands in the air. “I’ve been looking for hours and haven’t seen anyone that looks like that!”
I cleared my throat. “I may not fit that description, but I and that guy over there are your Grey Wardens.”
“Your face is too pretty to be a Warden,” he didn’t believe me.
“She can mess you up, so I would be careful,” Zevran chuckled.
The dwarf co*cked his head at Alistair. “Well, if you’re the best they got, standards must have fallen way down.”
“I guess I needed to be humbled today. I usually leave that to Morrigan,” Alistair shrugged.
“Say, could I ask you a favor?”
I laughed. “After such a lovely compliment, how can I refuse?”
“Name’s Oghren, and if you’ve ever heard of me before, it’s probably about how I piss ale and kill little boys who look at me wrong.” He laughed and continued, “And that’s mostly true, but the part they never say is how I’m the only one still trying to save our only Paragon. If you’re looking for Branka, I’m your ally.”
Alistair shrugged. “What’s one more lunatic in our little circus? Let’s take his help so we can get out of here quicker.”
I nodded. We started to walk into the Deep Roads.
We fought darkspawn from Caridin’s Cross to Ortan Thaig, but my mind began to pound once we got to The Dead Trenches. I had to stop and put my head against the stone wall. Leliana dropped her bow and ran to comfort me, her hand cradling the back of my head.
Her voice was panicked. “What’s wrong, love? Are you okay?”
“The Archdemon is getting louder. It is starting to fade away, but holy sh*t.”
“Stay close to me, okay? We’ll get out of here soon, I promise,” she said, her eyes lined with worry.
I steadied my breath and rejoined the group. We got into a rhythm with our fighting until we noticed a soft prayer. The closer we got to the source, the more twisted it became. I wasn’t the only one going crazy.
"First day, they come and catch everyone.
Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.
Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.
Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.
Fifth day, they return, and it's another girl's turn.
Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.
Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.
Eighth day, we hated as she is violated.
Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.
Now she does feast, as she's become the beast.
Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams."
We found the source of the prayer: a dwarven woman named Hespith. Her face was blotchy and feverish. She told us that Branka allowed members of her expedition to be captured by darkspawn to breed more darkspawn to be used in Caridin’s traps in his stronghold. I wondered why she stayed as long as she did until I gleaned that she was romantically involved with Branka. She also described what the darkspawn do with the women they capture and the process of becoming a broodmother (which included eating friends and family alive). This situation, this environment, and especially the broodmother were things of nightmares.
We fought against the monstrosity of tendrils and flesh. It was unthinkable that this was ever a dwarf to begin with. As we slashed and took down the beast, I couldn’t help but think about the monster that Branka was. How could she do this to her people and the one she loved? Was this Branka even worth saving?
Once the stench of death filled our noses, we moved forward. Oghren nudged Alistair. “Who knew my wife was into the ladies?”
Alistair raised his brow, and the rest of the crew piped in. “You’re married to Branka?”
“Oh, did I forget to mention that?” Oghren shrugged off a laugh.
After navigating and disarming multiple traps, we reached Caridin’s forge. The impressive stone and lava surrounding the forge put off a heat. To my surprise, not only was Caridin still alive, but he was also a golem himself.
He explained how the Anvil of the Void worked. To power his golems, he had to use the lives of dwarves. At first, he only accepted volunteers, but the king at the time began forcing others. He opposed the king but was punished by being forced to become a golem himself. He felt guilt for his creation and wanted to destroy the Anvil, but he could not touch it because he was a golem.
Branka appeared, and she was as crazy and delusional as I expected. She argued that the technology of the golems could allow the dwarves to reclaim the Deep Roads.
I agreed with Caridin. This was not right.
The battle erupted. Oghren was forced to fight his wife, Branka. She was a cold and calculated fighter, wielding a crossbow and a control rod, which forced four large golems to attack us. Oghren, wielding a two-handed axe, fought with fury and sadness. I expertly took down two golems myself, maneuvering around their heavy blows and finding their weak points.
As Branka fell, she spat curses, her eyes wild with madness. The fight ended with her death, leaving Oghren to stare at her lifeless body, a mixture of relief and sorrow on his face.
Caridin offered to make a crown to support our king of choice if we destroyed the Anvil. Once the golden crown lay in my hands, Caridin issued one final thank you before tossing himself into the lava below. We took a moment of silence and then made our way out of the Deep Roads, our mission complete but our hearts heavy.
