Magic's Slave

Nathaniel Howe was not happy. “Thomais, I don’t understand why we need a slave of all things to take care of our wounded. Surely there are some herbalists somewhere…”

Thomais cut him off with a gesture. “I’m not just doing this for us you know. From what Zevran reported back to me, it seems like this one was the worse treated out of the lot. And believe me; I know what it’s like to be mistreated by shems.”

Nathaniel opened his mouth as if to protest and then wisely decided to acquiesce. “If you say so Commander. I still don’t think it’s necessary, and you have more than enough to deal with here without trying to rescue every sad case that you come across.”

Thomais quirked an eyebrow. “Like you, you mean?”

Nathaniel winced. “That’s exactly what I mean Commander. Not that I don’t appreciate you giving me a chance when no one else would.”

Thomais chuckled. “Don’t worry. Giving people second chances is what I do. You heard what happened with Loghain correct?”

Nathaniel nodded. “And he redeemed himself at the top of Fort Drakon. You… gave him the chance to be a hero again. Despite what he did to the Wardens… to your family in the Alienage.” Nathaniel sighed. “I can only hope I’ll be as worthy of you as he was.”

Thomais gave him a crooked grin. “You already are. Twice over at least.”

Nathaniel blinked, startled. “If you say so Commander. But I still feel I have to work harder to prove myself.”

Thomais rolled his eyes and gave a little chuckle. “Just be constructive. And when the Mage arrives… make sure he’s taken care of, would you?” Thomais turned and headed out of the main hall to look for Zevran.

Nathaniel glowered. He still didn’t want to have anything to do with the mage, but if that’s what his responsibilities were for now… Then he would follow his Commander’s orders. Pleasant or not.

He heard them long before he saw them. The Templar rode in on Chargers of all colors and when he saw them slow to a trot he realized that the tow headed mage was not on a horse. The mage was being pulled along on a length of chain attached to a collar and wearing clothes Elves in the Alienage would have burned.

Nathaniel saw red. No one, no being deserved to be treated like that. Face a thundercloud he stalked towards the group of laughing men. “Excuse me, Ser Templar. I’ve been charged by the Commander to take the Mage into my custody.”

The leader of the group laughed and tossed him the end of the chain. “Here, he’s all yours. Time to go back to the Tower, boys. I think Jowan is starting to miss us.” He laughed again and then dug his heels into the poor horse’s flanks and took off with the others close behind.

Nathaniel dropped the chain like it was a snake and hurried over to the blonde to take it off. “Alright you. What’s your name?” He asked as he tilted the mage’s chin up so he could undo the chain.

“Anders. Ser.” The voice was quiet, near non existent and hazel eyes were half lidded and doing their best to not stare from underneath a fringe of hair.

Nathaniel gave the mage an obscure look before he pulled the other man’s arm about his shoulders. “Come on then, Anders. We’re going to get you cleaned up and in some proper robes.”

Anders merely did as he was told, used to following orders for so long, the only ones he thought to resist were… he shuddered.

“Are you alright?” Nathaniel stopped what they were doing. “If you’re cold, don’t worry, we’ll have you in warmer clothes in no time. And if you’re worried about… treatment… You’ll be treated well here. If I knew who to report those men to I would. No one deserves to be treated like you have. No one.”

Anders looked over at him in surprise, but quickly remembering himself, he lowered his gaze again, and murmured what he’d been told over and over again by the Templar. “It’s no less than we deserve Ser. We’re dangerous. A menace.” There was a bitter, self mocking tone to his voice.

Nathaniel surprised himself with his next words, “What you deserve is a chance. Yes, some mages go mad and hurt people. But I’m sure the majority would be willing…” he trailed off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk about such things around you.”

Anders stared at him in surprise, “About what? About freedom? About something I’ll never be able to enjoy? That doesn’t matter.” The arm that was around Nathaniel’s shoulders twitched and the hand grasped his shoulder, “Please. Keep talking. You’re the first to do so who hasn’t… treated me like a toy.”

Nathaniel nodded as they kept walking. “Well… was there anything you’d like to know about Vigil? About the commander? I’m at a bit of a loss here.”

Anders contemplated the questions for a minute before he risked another glance from under his bangs. “What about the Commander? We don’t… no one tells us anything in the tower.”

Nathaniel sighed. “There was a Blight. Not too long ago actually. The Commander stopped it. I’m sure the names won’t mean that much to you, but when Teyrn Loghain left King Cailan to die, two Grey Wardens survived and made their way around Ferelden to gain support. When they finally reached the capital the Commander chose to place Maric’s bastard son, Alistair, on the throne--”

“Wait. Alistair, the Templar in Training Alistair?” Anders interrupted and then cringed, as if expecting to be struck.

Nathaniel nodded. “That’s him. You… knew him?” Nathaniel expected the worst and so was unprepared with the next words from Anders.

Anders actually laughed. “All of the mages knew him. He was… kind to us. Like Carroll. He never mistreated us, and sometimes gave the younglings sweets and talked with some of the other boys, helping them when the other Templar… Never mind. Go on, please. I’d like to hear more.”

Nathaniel mulled over that a minute before continuing. “Anyway, when he chose to do that, he also decided to spare Loghain’s life and make him a Warden. Alistair was furious. They haven’t spoken much since, I gather. But, after all that, it turns out to stop a Blight, one of the Wardens had to die. Loghain sacrificed himself and reclaimed his honor. And now the Commander is dealing with the rogue bands that plague the Countryside.”

Anders nodded, though he understood only about half of what Nathaniel said. “And the Commander himself?”

“You’ll see. He’ll see that you’re well treated. His family was not treated well either.” Nathaniel sighed; they’d almost reached the communal baths. “Look. I’m going to leave you in here a minute to get washed. I’ll be right back, I need to find you some robes and then some food before I take you to the commander.” He eyed the bruises on the other man’s back. “And some healing. I don’t want the Commander seeing you like this. He might decide to wage war on the Chantry and that wouldn’t get us anywhere.”

Anders nodded absently and then picked up what seemed like the only bar of soap in the room. It smelled of flowers and was softer than the harshly made soaps the Templar made them use back at the Tower. Not that he wanted to smell feminine, but at least he would really be clean for the first time in years… And maybe if I scrub hard enough I can get the feeling of them off of me…

He sank into the blissful embrace of the hot water and started scrubbing, watching years of dirt, grime, and Templar abuse dissolving into the water.

As he scrubbed and rinsed over and over again, he didn’t hear Nathaniel return. The rogue’s boots were quiet on the stone and he merely stood in the doorway and watched. When Anders finished dunking himself to rinse out his hair again, he caught sight of Nathaniel leaning in the doorway with an obscure look on his face. Thinking he’d done something wrong, he regretfully got out of the tub and sat, knees on the floor, body supported by his legs. “I’m sorry I took so long.” His tone was emotionless, but with a hint of rebellion to it.

“Oh do stand up Mage.” Nathaniel fought the urge to roll his eyes. “You’re allowed to bathe as long, and as often, as you please.”

Anders slowly stood, not quite trusting. The Templar had told him that a time or two as well, though their promises only held true if they could use him, and when he fought…

Nathaniel saw the darkening look on the mage’s face and hurriedly held out a robe. “Here. This was salvaged from a Dalish camp that had been attacked by Darkspawn. It looks big enough to fit you, scrawny as you are. When you start to put on weight though we’ll have to see about getting you new things.”

Anders stared, “New… things?” He shook his head; coming to Vigil was almost like being freed. “I don’t… I’m a slave, Ser. I don’t get new things.” The tone of his voice suggested that Nathaniel was a simpleton.

Nathaniel frowned. “You will now. Now hurry up and put these on. And use this to fix your hair.” He held out a comb and a hair tie. “The Commander is eager to see you.” Then Nathaniel seemed to realize that Anders was standing naked in front of him. He flushed and turned his back.

Anders stared in amazement as he held the items that had been thrust into his arms. His eyes flickered down at the clothes, and then down past them where a bucket of washrags sat at his feet. It would be so easy, to pick it up and knock out the man standing in front of him. Then he could escape. Again. But the Templar would find you if you ran away. And despite the collar, it seems like these people are genuinely looking out for me… I’ll stay. For now. He dressed himself slowly, and when he was finished with his hair, he tapped Nathaniel on the shoulder and cleared his throat.

Nathaniel turned back around, accepting the comb, and tilted his head at the expression on the other’s face. “What?”

“It’s a bad idea to turn your back to a slave, Ser. Most would do anything to insure their freedom.” That bitter, self mocking tone was back in his voice.

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Only someone with Templar training can take that collar off.” He said quietly, “You would only be caught, and beaten worse than before. You won’t run. At least, not now.”

Anders said nothing this time and dropped his gaze again.

“Come on then, follow me. Thomais is getting impatient.” Nathaniel grumbled, “I do wish that lover of his would return soon. The commander gets cranky when that assassin isn’t around…”

After a brief stop in the kitchens, in which Nathaniel had to nearly threaten Anders to get the mage to eat the sandwich, they arrived in the private study that Thomais used to entertain meetings with the other wardens.

“Nathaniel, let me talk to him alone.” Thomais was seated at a desk working on something.

Nathaniel nodded and ducked out, leaving Anders alone with the Commander.

Thomais looked up and gave a warm smile, “Please. Don’t stand about like that, it makes me very nervous. So, you’re Anders.”

Anders sat, looking startled that this man knew his name. “I… yes Ser.”

“Please relax.” The young man almost pleaded, “I’m still not used to all the pomp and ceremony and bowing and scraping that my position obliges people to do for me.” He tucked his hair behind his ear, and then gestured at it, “As you can tell, I used to be the one bowing and scraping. Not that I was any good at it.” He laughed and then gave Anders a shrewd look. “I don’t think you’re very good at it either.”

Anders remained silent, and stared at Thomais as if trying to figure him out.

“I’ll bet you’re wondering why you’re here…” Thomais raised an eyebrow.

“It’s not a slave’s place to wonder why he is anywhere, Ser.” Anders said quietly, bitterly.

“Bollocks. You are wondering, and it’s only human… or Elven, to wonder why you’ve suddenly been thrown into the lap of luxury.” Thomais barked out a laugh.

Anders let out a soft laugh, “I keep wondering when you’re going to turn me back over to the Tower.”

Thomais steepled his hands together, “I’m not. But I do want some information from you.”

Anders sighed and slumped. So it was to be torture. “Yes, Ser.”

“Stop that.” Thomais said irritably. “All I want to know is the names of those who’re are being treated the worst. I’m trying something new. I helped out the Alienage but that’s not all I can do with the power I have now.” He rubbed his forehead. “In my travels I managed to find the ashes of Andraste. A mage was with me by the name of Wynne. She was proven just as worthy as the rest of us to enter. I want the mages freed.” He slammed a fist down on his desk, “Alistair is still angry at me, but maybe… just maybe we can do something about all of this.” He gestured to Anders.

Anders sat very still, appreciation growing within him. “Wynne…” he said softly. “I remember her. They sent her to the battle. They told us she was dead. She’s alive? Do you know…?” He shook his head and frowned. “Never mind. But, perhaps you can rescue Amell, Surana, and Jowan next.” He said quietly. “They weren’t treated nearly as bad as I… but with me gone, the Templar are going to turn to Jowan for… entertainment.”

Thomais sagged with relief. “Good. Good. Three more people I can get out of that living Hell.” Then he straightened. “I want you to go through the Grey Wardens’ Joining ritual without delay. It may not be able to free you, and we can’t let anyone know, given that this is something I’m not allowed to do. But… this could give us some leverage later on.” He tapped his chin, “Nathaniel can give you lessons in using weapons and even with your magic suppressed you can still help us.” He grinned. “Welcome to the team.”

Anders nodded, rather bewildered, and allowed himself to be led over to a small corner of the room where a goblet sat.

“Here. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden. Drink.” Thomais intoned formally.

Anders took the goblet in his shaking hands and took a long swallow. The liquid burned like fire down his throat and he choked. He couldn’t breathe and the last thought to flicker through his mind before he passed out was I should have known better…