Chapter Text
Dain Cadash should never have been a Warden.
He stood in the Korcari Wilds in the aftermath of Ostagar and wondered whether he’d just been better off taking his chances with the Carta. Damn Duncan for taking shelter in the one cave on the coast being used for lyrium smuggling. Damn Duncan for dying.
The only other survivor, Cassandra, looked as stunned as he felt. Duncan had supposedly recruited her unwillingly out of the Seeker ranks a year or so before. But whatever tension there had been there, the Wardens had become a second home to the woman. She scowled at the reeds around the hut as if they’d personally offended her.
The old Witch of the Wilds tried to nudge them into action, and Cassandra latched onto the idea that Arl Eamon would help them against the traitor Loghain - that it was his duty. Cadash didn’t mention that it had been Loghain’s duty to protect King Anthony, that if the Hero of River Dane could turn traitor, anyone could.
He didn’t think his opinion on the matter would be appreciated, considering the tattoos on his face and his history. No one looked at him and thought Ferelden.
Flemeth handed over the treaties, and offered them her daughter almost as an afterthought. Cassandra frowned wary of any apostate, not least a Witch of the Wilds, but Bethany had smiled at Cadash back at the ruins and said I promise not to turn you into toads, and he rather liked her. Maybe it was foolish, but she didn’t seem like a threat.
Flemeth snorted at Cassandra’s reluctance.
“Did you want help or not?”
“Help,” Cadash said, cutting across Cassandra, “Any help, thank you.”
Which was how he ended up travelling with both women out of the Wilds, towards a nearby village called Lothering. Cassandra seemed determined to pointedly ignore Bethany, who kept looking back towards the hovel with a frown.
Three of them, against the Blight.
It became four, soon enough, when a mabari Cadash had helped muzzle came charging out of the bushes near a small village named Lothering and sank its teeth into the throat into one of the attacking darkspawn.
“Is this the one you found the wildflowers for at Ostagar?” Cassandra asked afterwards as the dog proceeded to follow them, barking at Cadash.
“I think so?” Cadash replied, before shaking his head. “The Kennel Master offered a reward for the flower, I didn’t think anything else of it.”
Except now, apparently, he had a dog. What had the man called it? Imprinting. Yes, that was it. This dog had imprinted on him.
“What shall we call it?” Bethany asked, patting the creature’s head. She seemed very happy with the turn of events.
Cadash blinked. A name? He’d never had a pet before, did you name them?
“Dog?”
Dog barked, and it was settled.
Lothering was a fly-speck village similar to hundreds of others scattered across the Bannorn. But it was, now, the next in line for the encroaching blight. Scared and penniless refugees wandered the streets, looking lost, even as the citizens hurried to pack their things ready for the flight north.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Cadash said as Bethany looked around uncertainly. “The darkspawn are days away, if that.”
“The best we can do,” Cassandra noted, “Is trade. A little more gold in their pockets might make the difference.”
Inside the tavern, a couple of soldiers from Ostagar confronted them, claiming that the Wardens had been the ones who’d betrayed Anthony. Cassandra bristled, snapping about Loghain being the traitor, and Cadash figured breaking a few kneecaps and punching a few humans in the balls was acceptable in some circumstances. He was a little surprised when a dark haired man in Chantry robes joined in. Weren’t Chantry folk peaceful? And old?
“Thank you for the help, stranger. Although I didn’t think men were involved in the Chantry.” Cadash said as he slid his knives back into their sheathes.
The man smiled.
“I am a Lay Brother. It is hardly a position of power, Warden.”
Cadash didn’t know what Lay Brother meant, particularly, but assumed it was like an acolyte or similar. There were more pressing matters.
“And where did a Lay Brother learn to fight like that?” Cadash asked.
The man’s smile looked a little regretful.
“I was not always a Lay Brother,” he said, before introducing himself as Lucanis. Cassandra frowned at him.
“You sound Antivan - you are far from home, Brother.”
Lucanis shrugged.
“I have been everywhere in my time,” he said, “But now I am here, in Ferelden, and I wish to join you on your quest to stop the Blight.”
“Why?” Bethany asked, curious. “Doesn’t your Chantry teach that humankind’s sin created the darkspawn?”
Cadash vaguely knew that, and thought it was stupid. Blights were monstrous, terrible things but most years humankind did not see a single darkspawn incursion into their lands. It was the dwarves, underground and isolated, who fought against them constantly. Who’d lost so much to them over the centuries that they were effectively a dying race. Why the fuck would it be about human sin?
“I, ah, had a vision?” Lucanis said, a little weakly, before throwing up his hands, “I know, I know that sounds crazy, but just hear me out…”
Cadash heard him out. And then decided that if he was accepting a dog as an ally, he should probably accept a possible-crazy Chantry Brother with some terrifying hand to hand combat skills. Besides, Lucanis had lovely eyes - a shade of brown that Cadash suspected he might be able to get lost in if he tried hard enough.
He was an equal opportunities kind of guy.
Outside Lothering, they found the biggest creature Cadash had ever seen shoved in a cage clearly designed to hold livestock for transport. The monster’s horns were almost the breadth of the cage, let alone his shoulders. Cadash couldn’t help but think of the ogre that had been waiting for them at the top of the Tower of Ishal.
Cadash had caught sight of some Qunari mercenaries in Amranthine, but he’d not expected one here.
“He murdered a whole family.” Lucanis said quietly, “Never even denied it.”
Cadash looked into the cage. The Qunari was standing, a little hunched over. There was a metal brace on his knee, and a half-healed gash on his right shoulder.
“Does it speak Trade?”
“I can speak Trade,” the Qunari said.
Cadash blinked. Nothing showed on the Qunari’s face.
“Interesting. Do you want out of the cage, Qunari? The Wardens need allies, right now, and supposedly we take anyone including dogs.”
The Qunari considered this for a moment, eyes looking Cadash up and down.
“You are a Grey Warden?” He asked, slightly doubtfully. Cadash didn’t blame him. They looked like what they were - a disparate group of probable troublemakers. Apart from perhaps Cassandra, who didn’t act as if she’d ever done anything wrong in her whole life. Drinking probably counted as rebellion for her. And she, at least, had proper Warden armour. There hadn’t been time to find Cadash something with the insignia before the battle, so he was still in his mish-mash of Carta pieces.
“Aye. One of the last ones left in Ferelden. So, how about it? Want to kill darkspawn, not farmers?”
Cassandra made a small noise in the back of her throat, and Lucanis frowned, but neither of them spoke when the Qunari nodded.
“The woman at the Chantry has the key. I would fight for you, Warden.”
They unlocked the cage and the Qunari stepped out, straightening with a wince. He towered above Cassandra, which was impressive. The horns were probably as thick as Bethany’s arms.
“Do you have a name?” She asked curiously. “Do Qunari have names?”
“My name is not important,” the Qunari replied, “But you may call me Bull.”
Cadash raised any eyebrow. Not important?
“Bull?” He repeated. “Because of the horns?”
Bull shrugged.
“It was one of the insults hurled in my direction by those who captured me.”
“You wish to be called an insult?” Cassandra asked, frowning. “I do not understand.”
“Eh,” Cadash said with a shrug, “My nickname was Duster. It can’t hurt you if you accept it.”
It didn’t matter that he hadn’t been born when his parents left Orzammar. He was a poor dwarf, and therefore a Duster.
Bull looked at the dwarf thoughtfully, before nodding.
“Nicknames are important under the Qun,” he said. “This one - it suits. For now.”
It did suit him. Cassandra offered him one of the long swords they’d taken from the bandits outside the village and the Qunari hefted it, testing its weight. Then he nodded.
“This will do. I prefer to fight two handed.”
“It is a two-handed weapon, if you want it to be.” Cassandra said.
Bull shook his head.
“For a human, maybe.”
Indeed, his hand did appear to cover most of the hilt. Wielding it with two would be harder for him. Cadash made a mental note to find the Qunari something bigger when he could. No point having a companion that large and not equip him to fight properly.
Together they moved on, away from the village.