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Warden or Wizard

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World Thedas. Date unknown:

 

Arms throbbed in pain, from the rips in the flesh. Sword drawn wounds, open to the flesh and muscle. A hiss escaped clamped lips, teeth gritted together from blinding agony. Poison working its way through, tearing down defences slowly, very slowly.

 

Swinging round on one foot, kicking outwards. The leather clad limb caught the other between the legs, the weakest point. A strained grunt escaped them, falling to armoured knee and blade rushed forward cutting the throat freely.

 

Blood gushed forward, staining leather red and armoured hands grasped uselessly, already dead.

 

The last one fell. All were dead.

 

---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Underground Cavern. Wardens Party:

 

The group sighed in relief and made their way east to the mouth of the cave.

 

“Am I glad that is over.” The blond muttered under his breath.

 

“Ohh? Were the big bad darkspawn too much for your delicate muscles to handle?” Chuckled the black clad female at the back of the group.

 

“Nooo.” Armour scraped together as the male turned to look partially back to the trail they had walked. Scouting for new enemies that may have been following in their wake. And sighed, “Again? Are you going to turn the words I speak into your own personal amusement Morrigan?”

 

“Well I wouldn’t, if you were not so easy to tease Alistair. Just the right words and you act like an imbecile.” She swung the staff onto her back and tightened the hardened leather around it carefully, knowing full well that they could be attacked at any moment and her power would be needed again.

 

“Oh yes, just pick on me. Push me around like the wretch you are, milady of the wilds.” He huffed in amusement. Arms shrugging upwards to try to loosen the weight of the armour while teasingly throwing some of the blood on his hands towards the woman.

 

She wrinkled her nose at him, lips twisting in disgust. While her red eyes mocked him, laughing at his reaction to her words.

 

Beside them, moving his arms back and forth. While stretching the muscles carefully in measured movements was another male figure, who then stopped and crouched. Fingers ghosting across the ground with sharp eyes seeing what others could not. Tilting his head. Long blond strands shifted position, revealing a pointed ear to those who were watching.

 

“I do not mean to interrupt your seeming lovers talk. But it seems there to be signs of a new patrol on the path ahead.” He looked side wards, tilting his head towards the two. A smirk playing upon sinful lips, as honeyed eyes glanced up and down the man’s fine form.

 

“Oh yes, very good.” Alistair marched past, a hand grabbing the helmet on his belt. Putting it on, he hoisted his shield and sword, ready for the next bloody battle.

 

“Well I do hope it is not a Tuesday. I truly would not want to wake with a severed arm or limb, if you please.” He mused thoughtfully, twirling the sword around in a circle playfully.

 

“I do not know Alistair, perhaps you should give a dance to draw their attention to you.” Morrigan smirked, one hand upon the staff on her back. Ready to draw it in the instance she needed it.

 

“Why yes…” The blonde’s sarcastic voice rang out as hurlocks appeared around the bend in the cavern tunnel, “I should twirl and dance and let the darkspawn howl themselves silly with laughter.”

 

Flipping one dagger point down, the elf darted forward. Sliding easily through the ranks to get behind the one that had rushed the swordsman with a bellow of rage. Twirling round in a half circle, he buried the daggers to the hilt in the necks of two enemies, easing the battle by a margin.

 

“Perhaps, you could dance and dismember together my friend.” Spoke the long blond as he ducked a swing from a Greatsword and jumped a sweep of a long blade at the same time.

 

“Really, so I should strut and flutter my eyelashes, waving my dress from side to side.” His voice picked up with a high pitched false tone that clearly was meant to represent a female’s voice. “While sliding a blade between their ribs? Really Zevran. I think not.”

 

“I think you would look very dashing in a dress dear Alistair, it would certainly bring out your eyes.” Morrigan cackled, as fire struck down and spread outwards, lighting all on fire and causing the companions to make a swift retreat away from the line of attack.

 

The blond male swung his sword around and then through the belly of another Hurlock in his way, that screeched in a dying yell. Bringing up his shield, he deflected the new attack while sighing in response to the words spoken.

 

“Really? Why is it always me?” He muttered “Am I really so easy to make fun of?”

 

The last Hurlock then fell, falling forward and revealing the arrow in its neck. From behind, leaning against the wall, looking tired was another elf. Smiling grimly, he nodded in response to the swordsman’s question. “Yes you are. But it cheers us up when we need it. Though, you are not the only one that gets the brunt of the jokes, Leliana does as well.”

 

Zevran strode out of the shadows silently. His body seeming to form as he came into the light as though made from shadows. While daggers dripped a mixture of red and black were held in one hand. The long blond haired elf finished wrapping a strip of clean cloth around a deep cut in his upper arm. And golden brown eyes surveyed the group.

 

“The last are dead. Tried to run, but I caught them.” His eyes gleamed with the thrill of a hunt gone well. “Mayhap we can find a place to set up camp soon, yes? The darkness is ahead of us on this day.”

 

Green eyes flicked over to the other elf and his grim smile turned into a gentle grin. “Got them all did you assassin?”

 

“Yes. They were quick, but I, am quicker.” The blond elf spoke with a confident lit to his voice. “After all, the crows need to do their work well to escape a flogging for failure.”

 

“Sounds just terrible that does. Do they really flog you for a mistake?” Alistair murmured, sliding his sword home into the leather scabbard with a click.

 

The witch lifted a vial to her lips and took a sip, shuddering and smiling as the potion did its work to heal the wounds on her body.

 

“Interesting… I think I want to meet these crow masters of yours elf.” Morrigan looked far too interested for the human males comfort and he moved to put the elves between himself and the female.

 

“You, my lady, scare me.”

 

“Such flattery Alistair.” The wild’s witch laughed, amused with his reaction.

 

Green eyes rolled, amusement showing on his face as he listened to the two human’s banter. Tilting his head, he gave a toothy grin towards Zevran while waggling his dark eyebrows. The blond elf chuckled in return.

 

Stepping up to the other male, the crow assassin threw the black haired elf’s arm over his shoulder and took some of the wardens’ weight, knowing earlier that the younger one had been clipped in the leg by one of the poison blades. And even though the wound had been treated for poison and healed by magic. The feeling of the cut and the hurt that had been there still throbbed through the muscle. For the body did not forget wounds, as readily as magic took them away.

 

“They never stop…” Spoke the dark haired elf with a fond smile.

 

“Hm?” Grunted Zevran in question.

 

“Alistair and Morrigan. They never stop arguing.” Green eyes glanced over at the assassin, while the elf tried to walk as gently as possible on the throbbing calf muscle of his leg. He was also trying not to lean too much on the taller blond at his side, but the other just gave him an irritated glance and decided to pick green eyes up bridle style.

 

“Zevran!” He yelped, clinging to the other in shock at the sudden change in his balance.

 

“You are so hard headed my friend.” Spoke Zevran with a grin. “Perhaps you could just lay back and enjoy the ride, yes?”

 

“Put, me, down.” The dark haired elf was glaring at the other now, not amused in the slightest.

 

But the assassin just laughed, while leaning down and brushing lips across that sweat beaded brow under his chin. “Hadrian, you are always so prideful. Let me carry you, at least for today amore.”

 

The dark haired elf’s eyes were wide, staring at the blond with surprise. Then his lips twitched into a grin before laying his head on a strong shoulder. “Fine.” Hadrian grumbled, as he closed his tired eyes.

 

“Always so proud. But accepting help does not make you weak, no?”

 

“Shut up you.” The black hatred elf muttered back, shifting his face into the blonds neck and shoulder area. “Don't make me smack you, cheeky.”

 

“Such harsh words my own. You can be so cruel.” Said Zev with a forlorn sigh.

 

This attracted the attention of Morrigan and Alistair who stopped and looked forward at the other two. Alistair tilted his head, eyebrows raised in both question and curiosity. “Well, that's not something you see everyday.” Spoke the blond human. The corner of his lips turned upward into a smile, eyes crinkling with laughter lines.

 

“Hmmm... yes. Our Warden certainly does not like to show weakness, does he not?” Replied the witch with a slight smile. Alister just grinned at her, carefully rotating his arm around in a circle under the heavy armour as he tried to loosen the tight muscles of his elbow. The weight of holding the iron sword for hours, had begun to make his arm ache.

 

“Zevran! See if you can spot a place to camp out would you?” He called, as the swordsman stopped and stared back the way they had come. His fingers tightened around the swords hilt as he lifted his shield up into a guard position. “Morrigan and I shall stay here to deal with the darkspawn.”

 

“What?!” The black elf looked up eyes wide. His hand gripped Zev's left shoulder as Hadrian looked back at the two humans in horror. “No! I shall stay and fight with you.”

 

“Hardian...” Groaned Alister as he turned to stare at the black haired elf with a severe frown. “You cannot.”

 

Zevran gritted his teeth as he wrestled with the wriggly lithe body of his partner, who was determined to get down and face the enemy head on once again. “Amore!” He snapped, causing the elf to freeze and look up with wide eyes.

 

“Enough...” Breathed the blond, pressing a gentle kiss to Hadrian's forehead. “You need to rest.”

 

“I'm fine Zev.” Those bright green eyes gently smiled. “It doesn't even hurt any-more.”

 

“My own.” Zevran shook his head. Shifting the elf's body slightly, he raised his hand up to eye level, fingers coated in red. “Your healed skin has split. I can bind it, but rest will be best to stop the bleeding.”

 

Green eyes stared in horrified silence at the glistening liquid coating bronze coloured fingers. Swallowing, he nodded relenting to their wishes while relaxing back into Zevran's hold.

 

“Very well...” the black elf frowned, “but you, my king, better make it back alive.”

 

“Oh, I shall make it so.” says Morrigan with a twisted smile. “Upon our return, he shall be unharmed and still whining as ever.”

 

“I do not whine...” Said Alistair with a pout, as he turned and began walking back towards the tunnel the party had come from.

 

“My dear Alistair, yes you do.”

 

No, I don't.” The swordsman sang back at her in playfulness, his voice fading into the distance as they walked away from the two elves.

 

“Oh! So, you do not whine about there being too many darkspawn and not enough cheese…?” Was the last they heard as Zevran and Hadrain made their way further into the caverns ahead.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Deep within the Thaig with Zevran and the Warden:

 

A hiss escaped as Hadrian was placed upon the ground of the side cave, away from the main cavern. It was large enough to hold all four of them easily, along with a camp fire and still have room to move easily. The black elf's hand pressed harder down upon his wound as blood pooled up between parted fingers though the sodden bandaging.

 

The hardened leather armour, spelled against damage or was meant to be, had been split jaggedly by a coarse blade which had splinted off at the end. That darkspawn had been very lucky to get off such a hit before the daggers of the crow had embedded themselves in the infected creatures skull and ended it's life for hurting his partner.

 

But as the blond elven had taken down the creature of the spawn, a shard of the sword broke off, as the beast fell to the assassin's blades as they tasted blood. It was this novice mistake that had ended up wounding the black elf badly, tearing the skin and slicing deep into the muscle where the piece of the festering blade now resided. It had near cost the black haired elf his legs. To never walk again would have devastated the forest loving creature for the rest of his natural life. This didn't include the impact it had on Zevran when he saw Hadrian collapse with neither sound nor movement, it was like the spirit of life had been cut and all that was left behind was the body.

 

Thankfully he was still alive. The shard had done a lot of damage but a potion helped to patch up the wound somewhat to allow him to walk and fight without collapsing. But without getting him to a healer there was no telling how bad the situation they were in could get, trapped down a cavern system, below the earth in a Dwarfen Thaig…

 

“This is the most idiotic thing you have ever done, yes?”

 

Pale lips slowly moved up into a gentle smile. Watching as the blond gave a grunt as he kneeled down beside the other elf. “Maybe not the most idiotic.” He muttered, shaking his head with a sniggering laugh.

 

Amore, No laughing at this elf. Not when he holds all your prayers within.” Said Zevren with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

 

The black haired elf let the blond reposition his hands from their place over his wound on his leg, to around the wound itself, fingers red and sticky with old and new blood. “Really now, you are making me very intrigued sir elf.” The wounded elf tilted his head to the side a teasing smile on his lips, as he tried to ignore the flashes of pain as the other cleaned his wound as they bantered back and forth.

 

Then the gentle laughter cut with a hiss as the black haired male winced, fingers white from where they pressed tightly against the skin of his thigh around the wound. New lengths of cotton linen strips and roughly square cut pieces of fabric, all sterilized in boiling water had been packed over the wound, helping to keep the air away from the open flesh and allow the party at a later time to remove the shard of sword without having to open the skin once it had healed anew.

 

“You are ok now, la mia ombra, yes?” Queried the blond quietly, as the last strips were firmly tightened over the wound to keep it from being contaminated from the surrounding area any more than it could have been. A gentle hand reached forward and ran his knuckles down smooth cheeks, causing green eyes to lift and to catch onto golden irises which looked worriedly at the ground bound Warden.

 

“I shall be fine, Zev. I am not going anywhere see?” The black haired male shrugged, breaking the stare the two elves had been locked within. Reaching over to the side, Hadrian pulled his daggers and bow over, holding them in a tense grip as he held them in his lap. “I will be sure to keep my weapons close at hand at all times.”

 

“I know you shall, but let me help you at least tie on your daggers amore. It will make me feel more at ease knowing you are at least equipped, while I go scouting for dangers abound.” Zevran tilted his head, smiling cheekily as he reached down and gripped the daggers, pulling them out of the slacked grip of the gently laughing Hadrian. Leaning forward, the blond elf gently rubbed his nose against the other elfs making the green eyed one duck away eyes shut. The taller elf carefully tied the daggers to the belts that criss crossed over the black males chest.

 

Making sure the knots were tight, but easy to undo in an emergency or need to do maintenance. The blond then helped to fit the bow and quiver stuffed full of many different arrows (like magic, poison & normal) before leaning back to nudge his head into the black haired elf’s and nuzzle the others forehead murmuring affection into the others hair. The other black haired elven kin just shook his head in bemusement, huffing in stifled laughter.

 

The two look a long few seconds just breathing together, eyes closed, before the elder moved away. Those green eyes opened and he tilted his head to the side. Zev just shook his head and curved his arm under a hip while the other went over the other side to help direct the black elf down onto his side. For a long moment the younger resisted, just staring up at the Crow Assassin, before a smile overtook that young looking face and the blond leaned down slightly. “Ora di riposo. Riproduci in seguito?

 

His eyes went wide, Hadrian swallowed, then nodded before the warden followed the blond's direction and lay down on his side, allowing the stressed leg to rest unheeded from the pressure and weight of his body. Tired eyes watched the honey eyed blond nod at his figure before straightening, turning away and walking towards the entrance. Then with a sudden run leaped up the wall and seemed to vanish into the shadows at the top of the cavern wall.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Half and Hour Later:

 

Half an hour soundlessly passes while the Warden Hadrian sleeps, knowing the Assassin patrols the halls of the Thaig. Then...

 

Breathing gently, green eyes flicker open, irises dilate confused at the gentle light surrounding him in a silvery white glow. Blinking, it was then inside he felt it, a tight burning sensation. It as though his whole body was ready to combust into flame right there and then.

 

With a groan, the warden heaved himself onto his side, and then paled as it registered just what that burning feeling inside had been trying to tell his instincts about this whole time.

 

Right around the black haired elf’s body and a good few feet away was a summoning circle. A Reverse Summoning Circle to be more exact, to summon whatever you wanted was inside as long as you had the power and control to do so. Distance was matched by power and as long as you had something that belonged to that which you wanted to summon, nothing could stand in the way of getting what you wanted.

 

Heaving for breath as it got harder to breath, Hadrian pulled himself up as quickly as he could, ignoring his wound as it split and burst once again. The sealed skin splitting open like a ripe banana being tore apart. Blood coated the elf's inner thighs and dripped down his legs to the ground, as the man tried desperately to get out of the circle. But it was like trying to wade through running water.

 

Then his leg collapsed underneath him, ripping a cry of anger from the males tense form. Pushing up onto hands and knees, stretched a hand out while concentrating on the fiery spark inside, but even that did not work. This spell was cutting off all avenues.

 

Green eyes watched in horror as the light got brighter and yelled out to Zevran in the minutes he had left terrified and frightened.

 

Then the cavern, the Thaig and everything Hardrian knew vanished in a blinding glow of white light.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Not a Minute later with Zevran:

 

ZEVREN!” It echoed deep in his ears the fear within his Amore's voice before being stolen away. It was unlike anything he had heard within Hadrian's voice before. Never had he heard the other elf scream out like that, in such terror and fear.

 

The blond elf’s lips were pressed tightly against once another as he stared down at the ground where the black haired elf had lain, fingers wrapped tightly around the leather wrapped hilt of his two daggers to keep from punching a wall in frustration.

 

“Zevren?” Alister's voice was not a welcome distraction at this time, though the female mage beside him may have the answers he needed. “We heard the Warden's scream and came as fast as we could. Were is he?”

 

“Assassin?” At her sharp query, the blond turned and looked over his shoulder at them both. Alistair was covered head to toe in darkspawn blood once more, indicating there had been quite a lot following the group. The mage was, as always, impeccable, her sharp eyes flickering over the area taking in the scene with an emotionless gaze.

 

“What happened Zev?” Alistair said again.

 

“Observe beneath your feet my friend.” He said as he turned and gestured at the intricate markings, which had been seemingly burned into the ground, and the blood that showed where Hardian had lain. His outline was still warm from having been there only moment before. A thin stretch of black indicated that the Warden had reached out trying to escape his fate just before he had been whisked away by this strange, most unholy of magicks. The air itself seemed to buzz with energy.

 

Morringhan bent down, fingers brushing the charred ground. Sparks flickering from her fingers at the touch, fluttered down caused her to flinch back. “Such Dark magic tis this I have ever seen, through my mother I have heard rumour this has been performed many a time.”

 

“You know what magic this is then?”

 

“Tis a Reverse Summoning Spell. Not one of this realm though, the glyphs are far too strange for our tongue.”

 

“I care not for the magic of this spell. Just tell me where my Amore has disappeared to!” Bit out Zevren as he turned away, fingers white around the hilt of his dagger which weighed comfortingly in his palm. The other blade was still within it's sheath on his hip, as the blonds left hand curled into a fist around the hilt as sharp eyes traced over that blacked mark which was shaped exactly in Hadrian's form. Clearly from the shape, as Zevran could see, the dark haired elf had struggled to get away with his wounded thigh. But had failed and only time to yell for the blond before the magic had erupted beneath him and ensnared his form to spirit him away.

 

'Amore…' He thought, fingers clenched. 'Wait for me! I will find where you have gone. And if you have been hurt in any way, retribution will be swift.'

 

End Chapter 1

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

#Extract from Chapter 2:#

 

“Oh my word.” She just stared.

 

“Poppy? What is wrong?” Asked the elder concerned. Blue eyes looked into Severus's dark-brown eyes in question, but the younger just shook his head with a frown.

 

“I.. Just look.” She moved back, and gestured towards his head. The two men looked over the boys form to see if they could see what was wrong and then finally saw it, if by the sudden intakes of breath were any indication. “I didn't think they still existed.”

 

His ears were pointed. Delicately. Nothing like a house elf's, or any other magical creature they knew of. The only creature that it could be, were the one beings that didn't exist. They had been destroyed a long, long time ago, hunted down for their beauty and immortality until none were left.

 

She looked up at them both with fire in her eyes. “Just where did he come from Albus? This is too dangerous a world for a being like him, no matter who he used to be.”

 

~End~

Chapter Text

World unknown. Date unknown. Hadrian's pov:

 

A gasp of breath. Fingers twitch. Muscles tense and shoulders move. Head rolls back. Lips part, bloodless and pale. While a voiceless sound escapes. Hands curl. Arms contract. Legs move and body rolls.

 

Green eyes flicker beneath heavy eyelids.

 

A cough echoes, hands fisted in fabric. Body curls, legs to chin. Lips pull back, forehead furrows.

 

Coughs again, spittle flies. Gasps for breath, eyelids flicker.

 

Voices sound, pounding feet. Hands grasp clothing and shouts in an ear. Body flinches, curling more. Hurting inwardly, yelling in fear. Fists shake body, yelling even louder. Hands tighten, fabric creasing. Lifts up high, arms flailing.

 

Legs jerk outwards, arms falling limp. Head turned side wards, cheek turning pink. A voice growls, firmly and nastily. But nothing comes, speech is gone.

 

Shaken again, voice getting louder. Feet then heard getting closer. A young voice yells, a spark unveils, tearing a yell from their chest.

 

Fingers let go, dropping them to the ground. A scream echoes, bouncing round and round. Fingers grip hair. Eyes clenched in pain.

 

Agony abound, shuddering through broken bones as blood boils, slowly cooking within. Then a flash of light, through tightly closed eyelids and darkness comes, sucking consciousness away. Thus silence falls, body still once more.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

World Earth. Date unknown. General pov:

 

“That was close…” Sighs the woman in a white gown. Fingers rub her brow as she looks over the young man on the floor of the office.

 

“Seems a slight miscalculation had affected the transportation of the child.” Blue eyes gazed down at the boy lying curled upon the ground. Fingers were pressed together, elbows resting on the top of the desk as the elder gazed over his half moon spectacles at the matron and her charge.

 

“Miscalculation?” A grimace appeared for a second or two, before falling into the usual dark scowl that caused students to flee in terror. “Seems you near killed the creature instead.” His dark eyes narrowed. Sharp and calculating eyes flicked over the wounded and pained body of the young man on the ground.

 

“Creature?” The elder glanced towards the younger man, before his lips curled into a smile and he stood up from his desk, moving round to cross over to where the other had landed upon the floor. “No Severus, this is no creature. If you looked more closely, you would see very well who this is.”

 

Long fingers reached forward and brushed long dark strands back from a bowed forehead, revealing a lightning bolt scar to the room. The young man, Severus, stiffened a dark frown as his eye flickered back and forth over the still body of the boy.

 

The Matron on the other hand didn't react at all except to tut at the elder and brush his hand away. Her other hand was in motion, wand in hand, carefully moving over the boys body as parchment collected in a neat pile by her leg to read after she was done. Then the boy groaned, tilting his head, fingers twitching as though to awake. With a furrow of her brow, the matron muttered under her breath and set a sleeping spell over him to make him fall into a more natural slumber.

 

“Oh my word.” She just stared.

 

“Poppy? What is wrong?” Asked the elder concerned. Blue eyes looked into Severus's dark-brown eyes in question, but the younger just shook his head with a frown.

 

“I.. Just look.” She moved back, and gestured towards his head. The two men looked over the boys form to see if they could see what was wrong and then finally saw it, if by the sudden intakes of breath were any indication. “I didn't think they still existed.”

 

His ears were pointed. Delicately. Nothing like a house elf's, or any other magical creature they knew of. The only creature that it could be, were the one beings that didn't exist. They had been destroyed a long, long time ago, hunted down for their beauty and immortality until none were left.

 

She looked up at them both with fire in her eyes. “Just where did he come from Albus? This is too dangerous a world for a being like him, no matter who he used to be.”

 

Near black eyes narrowed in thought, before the younger of the two men stepped forward and kneeled down beside the sleeping being on the ground. “Poppy, perhaps the boy should be placed elsewhere for his safety for the moment.” Severus glanced up at the focused mediwitch. “Perhaps the secure wing of the hospital wing?”

 

“Excellent idea Severus. Would you mind giving me a hand? I have to keep an eye on his vitals and can't transport the child at the same time.” Spoke the matron with a concentrated look upon her face. Her wand was focused upon the boy's midsection, glowing a dark green in colour while flickering in a regular beat.

 

“Very well Poppy. Just tell me when you are ready to transport the boy to the Hospital Wing.”

 

She just nodded distractedly in return.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Tiny dream. Earth home. Harry pov:

 

They were tiny hands, such small hands that pressed almost desperately against the door, searching for a way out. A hot forehead rested above them, feverish and cold at the same time as panted breaths escaped into the air.

 

He was sick. He was so very sick. Coughs erupted into the air, as little lungs tried desperately to shift sticky mucus, but his body was too weak.

 

Clouded green eyes, shiny with tears that did not fall, closed with resignation that such a young child should not feel. Letting his body slip down to the ground in defeat as a fist beat almost silently against the door once again that night.

 

Help me...

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

World Earth. Hadrian's pov:

 

Green eyes fluttered open, before shutting again from the bright light. A groan escaped as a hand came up to cradle his throbbing head. Deep breaths were being taken in, trying to stay calm and assess the situation as panic started to build. The usually familiar smell of dirt, a tinge of iron, the heady fragrance of copper, unwashed leather and linens was missing.

 

Fingers of his left hand shifted slightly and curled around the hilt of a dagger. Thank goodness for the assassin and his paranoid nagging about always wearing the enchanted weapons. They couldn’t be removed from his person when wearing them thanks to the glyphs inscribed on them.

 

Whispered voices echoed around him, coming from a far enough distance the male felt safe enough to crack open his eyes enough to survey the surroundings. White light blinded watery green eyes as they blinked furiously before shutting once more, face pressing back into the space between his shoulder and the strange feeling linens.

 

Finally eyes began to adjust and the elf could survey his surroundings. White was the impression, sterile white. White curtains, yellowish-white sheets, white curiously soft pillows, walls greyish white and floors were made up of lots of white squares. Huffing out a breath, pulled the soft-thick-sheet-that-was-not-a-sheet off of him and swung leather clad legs down off the bed.

 

Breathing, Hadrian pushed up and stood all for a second or two before collapsing. Left hand clamped down upon his thigh which had split open and was quickly soaking the bindings with blood. The Right had managed to direct his falling movement to land upon the bed once more, with his legs being the only things still hanging off while the rest of the elf’s body lay flat as he panted from the sharp throbbing pain.

 

'By the Dreadwolf, fool I am.' Twisting to lie upon his back, Hadrian stared up at the blindingly white ceiling and strange but interesting architecture as he gathered the courage to move again. 'Throw the elks to the pit, I must be seeking punishment if I must be trying to get up again.'

 

Then a strange sound of flapping came to pointed ears and the elven Warden pushed himself up onto his elbows as curiosity reared its head once again, his natural suspicion and need to escape the white room had temperately been replaced as his true naivety when his curiosity struck and the elf had to follow the compulsion. For the Warden had a tendency to let his curiosity dictate his behaviour too many times and the trouble the party had gotten into had become legends on Thedas.

 

Green eyes raised up and stared, there flying towards him was a fire bird. They were supposed to be extinct, hunted down like most creatures were being. Dragon's being the top prize for any seasoned killer. It made the forest dwelling creature inside of him bristle with anger.

 

It was funny, he was originally an Elven child from the city. A flat-ear, one with no pride or connection to the ancestors and yet Hadrian took pride in being a city elf, his heritage from his father. Yet he was also a Dalish-elf through his mother. Taken on journeys, and was accepted into the clan as a Dal'en and taught the ways of his people. Including the daggers and bow, the dark haired man took to them with satisfaction and pride.

 

That day, on the day of his marriage, the Warden had been there to visit his father. As well as keep the promise that had been made many a year ago. Binding to the young female elf was no trouble, even if it was a temporary bond to help her escape the Alienage to the clan with him.

 

Instead, bloodshed.

 

So many dead.

 

It was that which sparked the darker side of his curiosity then.

 

What would happen if I cut here, slowly sliced and separated the muscles and tendons of the flesh? Lets see what he shall do, will he scream, writhe in pain, whimper or beg after what he did to her? No man deserves to keep his dignity and pride after destroying the virtue of the one I was meant to protect.

 

And so Darkness grew into him. The assassin's path laid out. The Warden Duncan came, saved Hadrian's neck from the gallows and shoved him into being a Warden to fight Darkspawn.

 

Green eyes blinked, drawn back to the present as a weight settled on his stomach and a trill sounded out into the air by his left ear. Shifting his head back, the elf looked down and stared at the gleaming fiery-red plumage of the bird. The bird who by the way was looking back at the green eyed man with one beady black eye, head cocked to the side with intelligence shining through.

 

A chirrup came from the sharp curved beak of the creature, who's crest was raised. As that sharp intelligent stare switched from one eye to the other, as the fire-bird seemed to twitch it's head and turned the other way. Then with a flick of it's long tail's, turned towards Hadrian's legs with a crooning sound.

 

“Do not worry my friend. I shall care for the wound soon enough, if the Dreadwolf permits me.” He murmurers towards the bird, unconsciously lying back, the heat from the bird causing a drowsiness to overtake his senses. Blinking, he tried to shake it away, as a hand came up to hold his head. “Wha' ya' do'in?”

 

Then agonising pain eclipsed his form. Hadrian could not move, vocalize or even feel. Just pain throughout his form. The blood in his very body felt like it was trying to boil it's way out of him. Breathing began to hitch, body twitching, then the spasm's began, before violently fitting. Mind was fixated on two words as darkness hit in a flash of light and concerned garbled words as he shut down once again.

 

What Happened?

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

World Earth. Medical Wing. Hadrian's pov:

 

Face turned into the feather soft side of the pillow, his brow furrowed before green eyes slowly slipped open. Gently he stared into the white light that shone from the window, confused and slightly dazed, but mainly tired.

 

Settling back into the pillow, gazing perplexed towards the light, as fingers drifted upwards and pressed gently against his leg. Then shifting his gaze downwards, pushed upwards with his left arm mainly taking his weight. Staring down at the bandages around the thigh, the fingers of Hadrian's right hand flexed, fingertips brushing against the rough material.

 

Uoyerew ifi tahtod tndluowi.” In reflex the elf suppressed a flinch, as pain radiated out from the exact point the his fingers had brushed against. Head turned, eyes fixating on a darker pair which had apparently been watching him wake and move around this entire time. Shifting onto his right side, the elven male settled with his body facing towards the darkly dressed gentleman. With only the left leg kept in its original position, Hadrian would not dare any more pain.

 

Dark eyes stared down at him with an unreadable look, while shoulder lengths of dark wavy hair hung around his face.

 

'Who?' Green eyes narrowed at the strange human that had apparently been sitting at his side for however long it had been. It was then Hadrian caught the slightest of movement from the human sitting at his side. Without indicating that he had sighted the movement, the Warden-assassin tilted his head in confusion. “I do not understand your words Hume.”

 

Fingers of his left hand slowly shifted position and curled gently over the pommel, before quietly moving to grasp the handle of the dagger. Fingers were firm and still, as sharp eyes caught the man removing an object from his pocket. A very long and thin object, almost like a miniature staff in size, only hand-held size.

 

It was just a flicker in the corner dark haired man's eyes, but it was enough to make the young elf move.

 

He dove off the bed, ignoring his leg which began to greatly pain him as it bled through the white linen bandages, indicating it had torn through again. Ducking under the coloured flash of light that shot over his head and hit the bed. Hadrian slipped the dagger out of its sheath into his palm and in an instant was inside the other man’s defence. Clearly the human had not expected him to get up and actually move at the speed he had, as the others reflex was a little too slow. For the very moment he reacted, the elven assassin was already behind the dark-haired man and the dagger was poised at his throat, his warning clear.

 

Those sharp green eyes quickly flickered over the male, taking in the position of each hand. The left was on the arm of the chair, fingers gripping the end, skin white with sudden tension. The right held that miniature staff like object, wooden-brown, carved delicately and pointed directly at where his head was laying not seconds before. The pillow, as his eyes flickered over to inspect it for a long second or two, had indented from the blast, a blackened mark had appeared, but yet… As it had occurred to the young Warden, had not been destroyed as most magick spells would usually cause.

 

Moving slightly once all pieces had become clear to him, Hadrian stepped forward slightly from behind the elder human, dagger still poised at his throat as it traced a gentle path.

 

Fingers shifted up and gripped hold of his sheathed dagger, pulling it from the other sheath with a quiet 'snick' sound that echoed through the room. Turning a little more, green once more met those dark eyes, which stared back with an unknowable emotion, face fixated into a blank expression as the blade stopped just above the larynx.

 

The young-elf could feel himself frowning, lips pressed together tightly, his brows furrowed. Green eyes seeming to glow as he stared down the other, then the flat of his blade smacked down on the hand holding the miniature staff, a glare building. Do not try that again, his face was saying, as loose strands of hair from the braid at his back fell around his face, green eyes bright as the Warden-assassin shook his head firmly once.

 

Dark eyes stared back, the left hand having loosened its grip on the arm of the chair. That face wasn't so blank any more, still unreadable though to the general eye, as the human nodded ever so gently in return.

 

A sigh escaped, as fingers slipped his daggers away with a flick, magick warming the runes in the metal before they reappeared back in their sheath's once more. Before slipping tired fingers through wild locks of hair at the top of his head. Turning away to walk back to the bed as his leg trembled minutely, the Warden felt ready to collapse, he didn't want to show weakness in front of an unknown like the dark haired man, so forced the trembling to stop.

 

Then he sees that same flash of colour again, he swings around trying to grab his weapons, but it is too late, the spell hits him and darkness enfolds his thoughts.

 

End Chapter 2

Chapter Text

World Earth. Date unknown. Severus Snapes pov :

 

A sigh escapes as the wand is lowered, left hand comes up and runs down his tired face. That had been too close, being threatened by magic was fine but having a blade so close to the throat was a might too uncomfortable for his tastes. His left arm dropped to rest back upon the arm of the chair as the potion master stared in contemplation at the figure lying awkwardly on the bed. Then with a tsk sound, flicked his wand and lifted the elf to settle the creature properly again.

 

Then standing, lips pressing in distaste, reached forward with his wand and moved strands of hair out the way to see that scar, so distinct in the shape of a lightning bolt, of a boy they all had thought dead. Narrowed eyes moved down the figure and then up, taking in the creature. This was no boy, no child who had landed on their laps, this was a young adult who was clearly well trained in combat if the quick and precise movement had been any indication. The glimpse of the daggers out of their spelled sheaves had also been a heavy clue to the nature of the elf’s experience. Delicately and intricately formed with runes and an inscribed language all down the blades, they were no toys. They were assassins blades.

 

The only reason Severus recognised them? Was from his time as a spy in the last war. The Dark Lord had been fond of the guild of magical assassins. For those with deep ties to the old ways still used blades even to this day.

 

The young elven man was clearly independent and strong, Yet Albus Dumbledore would be expecting either a child or a young teenager, yet his expectations would have to change.

 

A grumble came from his throat as the black-haired man settled back in his chair. Then a hand came up and traced a path where the blade had ghosted across the potion masters neck. Such a delicate balance, yet no blood had been spilled, no flesh had been split, the Elf had known precisely how to wield the blade to make sure no damage was done to the one under the blade unless the creature had wished to.

 

And if the message within the others green eyes - Lily’s Eyes- , it had only been a warning against trying any more spells again. ‘ And then I shot one at his back anyway .’ The scowl grew deeper. Truly the Elf was not going to be happy when he awoke, having your back attacked when you’ve just warned someone not to do something, the other would be right to be wary of him.

 

“Severus, good. I shall need your assistance.” The voice of the Matron jolted the young man from his thoughts, turning his head, the dark-haired wizard narrowed dark eyes in question as steady hands pushed himself upright onto his feet.

 

Poppy.” It was a quiet greeting, towards the woman wearing white as she bustled around, various bottles following her while coming up behind was the Headmaster Dumbledore and Headmistress McG onag a ll

 

Severus, glad to see you putting old grudges aside to look after Harry.” The headmaster was smiling gently, clearly happy seeing both in the same room.

 

He...” The potion master looked away clearly uncomfortable. “It is clear he is not Potter .” A sneer briefly appeared as that name passed his lips, then his eyes looked down upon the Elf in the bed and then shook his head. “I can see the difference between a child and the parent.”

 

“Out of the way.” The Matron was going to wait for none of them. “Minerva up the top, be ready to spell him down. Albus diagnostic spells every minute. Severus be ready to pour these potions, you know the order. We must get that blade out or it will kill him.”

 

The potion master looked at his colleges and nodded to each before everyone moved. Potions in hand, all readied themselves for the battle to be fought to save the Elven’s Life.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

Dream. Earth home. Harry pov:

 

It was the unlocking of his door that woke the young boy from his slumber. Sitting up, messy hair fall into sleepy green eyes, as the child stared at the cupboard door curious and slightly nervous.

 

Then the wooden door swung open to reveal the strangest person he had ever seen.

 

This was a woman all dressed in black, white coloured hair so wild but cleverly tamed, for messy strands impressively styled in the shape of two horns came into view. Those fierce golden eyes, sharp as a hawks, looked down upon him as the tall strange lady tilted her head to the side in question. “A half-child?” She mused to herself as though expecting the air to answer her. “Yes, it is a child. Curious that a child of such power like yourself has been left in a place such as this.”

 

Then came the thumping and creaking of the stairs above the young boys head, his caretakers were clearly awake. Shrinking back, eyes wide, the child tried to fold himself into the smallest space that was possible inside of the room, for which a tiny underfed seven years old could fit. Something that was clearly amusing if the brief huff of laughter, which came from the woman in the black leather and metal clothing, was any indication. She then tilted her head away and turned narrowed eyes in the direction of the heavy thumping footsteps.

 

“You! You dare!” Came from beyond the open doorway to the next room where the lady stood. It seemed if Uncle Vernon was finally downstairs and not happy about the stranger in his home.

 

“Oh, I dare.” She turned fully away, straightening up out of this small space to her full intimidating height to face his uncle who was just beyond his tiny doorway. “You see, I found a precious gift. One you threw away.”

 

“What-do-you-want-witch...”

 

“What do I want? I want a lot of things.” The woman chuckles again, but this time there was an undertone of impatience to it. “But nothing you can offer me.”

 

Leave.”

 

“Give me the Child.”

 

“No. Get-out!”

 

“Stubborn fool.” She turned away from him, golden eyes settling back upon the child’s own green eyes and at that moment a yelp was heard before a splintering of wood could be heard within the distance. “Humans are such fickle creatures, such ignorant beasts when they are faced against power greater than their own.”

 

Then she reached out with a hand towards him, whose body shivered in a weird tension. “Come.”

 

Messy curled dark near black locks of hair shifted with the shake of the child’s head, eyes wide with fear, uncertainty and weirdly a little curiosity. Part of the boy was drawn to the woman due to the ability she had just shown and the feeling of the power that had just come from the non-verbal push that sent his Uncle flying.

 

“No harm will come to you child. I seek only to find that which has now been found. So come along, I have a place you shall go, somewhere a child can grow.”

 

He could not resist, there was something about this woman, something ancient but familiar that tugged at the boy to come to her. A feeling that somewhere deep inside a part of him was the same.

 

Chest heaving, eyes wide, slowly he moved.

 

Green eyes firmly upon her own as a tiny hand slipped within her long claw-like hand. Yet from a second glance, it became clear they were only fingernails, grown long and sharp, black as the darkness where no light could shine. That mocking smile she had turned towards his Uncle had shifted, now warm and inviting. “That’s right. Come, child. There is a great distance we must travel.” She straightened up one more time and turned towards the front door, his hand curled delicately within her own.

 

The green-eyed boy stepped out of the cupboard tense, nervous about being out where he didn’t belong. But curiosity was stronger than the fear and was leading the child out into the unknown with the lady at his side. Green eyes looked upwards, following at her side. “Travel?” His quiet voice broke the silence.

 

She nodded, eyes gleaming with satisfaction, the golden iris’s seeming to glow for a quick second or two. She spoke again, voice lifted in amusement, as she cleverly directed them both out of the house. Not quick enough if the glimpse of red was still caught by the corner of one green eye, but when the child turned to view what he had glimpsed, it was too late they were outside missing the entire thing.

 

“Ah. But I know a trick, a way through the barrier.” Her voice drew him back, his head turning to look upon the woman once more. “Do not be afraid. I know a different way.”

 

She stopped and turned to face him, her arm suddenly grasping around his stomach, pulling the boys back to her chest. The child panicked about being so close to another being tried to pull away, fingers scratching at the hold around his waist, when stiffening, all instincts told him to go silent and still. Under his green-eyed gaze, the lady's skin and clothing turned burning white. Flinching his eyes turned away, landing back upon the house, his young body frozen with fear.

 

Stumbling, arm over her shoulder supporting him, stood his Aunt and Uncle. Vernon, a beefy man with a low neck, brown hair and moustache, looked awful. Blood was running down his head, an arm and part of his chest. Clothing was ripped and torn and stained with a whitish powder that must have come from his impact from the wall and door. Petunia, on the other hand, a thin necked lady with piercing eyes, was white. Face pale as she helped her husband to walk.

 

“Potter! Get away from her!” Bellowed the furious, and surprisingly terrified, Uncle as he staggered forward. “Give the boy back right this instant!”

 

If this had been any other instance, any other person or time, maybe this would have been the start of a new beginning for the family. A new seeding being planted in what had seemed like a barren land, as for the first time Uncle Vernon was terrified. Not because of his own life, but because he knew the woman was taking away the nephew he thought he had hated until this very moment.

 

“Harry...” That is all Petunia got to say, a fearful single word of his name. The child, who finally learned his full name for the first time, Harry Potter gazed at the two of them in shock, before suddenly everything erupted.

 

Fire. Screams. Blood coating the ground.

 

A tiny cry came from his throat, fingers tightening over the scales of the claw that held him secure. Then with a mighty gust of wind, they were aloft, a boy who finally had a name and the woman who became a dragon.

 

–---¬=@;#<{+HP+DA+}>#;@¬-----

 

World unknown. Date unknown. Hadrian's pov:

 

He was awake?’ The confusion about awaking in the same room unharmed was the initial thing the elf observed as he shifted slowly under the heavy blanket-like cloth of the bed. Pushing upwards, suddenly stopped swaying, while a part of him felt nauseated, “Falon’Din, why do I feel so unwell?” he groaned.

 

Shifting slowly, while swallowing thickly. Hadrian let heavy legs slide off the bed to rest upon the ground. Elbows came to lean upon tense thighs, then suddenly the young elf moved anxious arms upwards off his legs as he realized there was no covering on the leg that had the dagger wound.

 

What? It did not hurt?’ Green-eyes looked down in bewilderment at the strangely unhurt flesh.

 

Tilting his head to the side, black locks fell into an inquisitive gaze, as fingers reached down and grazed the place where a wound should have been on a tense thigh. ‘I feel...’ A furrow appeared as fingers twisted in a pattern and runes appeared in the air above the elf’s leg. “Magick. Foreign magick too. Not Thedas born fade magick either, this is too free to be similar to fade magick,” mused Hadrian to himself.

 

Tilting his head the other way, watched the runes twist and turn and shape anew. “Similar to staff use, but more… refined? But stifled. Bound to core magick?” Then the sound of footsteps heading his way drew the elf’s attention, allowing the feed of Mana to cease and the runes to disperse, turned to look at who had entered the white room of healing the young man was clearly kept within.

 

It was an older Hume, clearly within the wisdom stage of age. With his long beard and wrinkled face struck a picture of someone who had lived a long, plentiful life. Robes of violet were clad upon this man’s figure, giving him an almost welcoming look, along with the pointed hat that sat askew upon white hair.

 

But as Hadrian could sense, this being, this Human was strong and powerful in the magickal arts. No matter how much the other put forward a gentle and serene tone in his appearance, it was the feel of magic which would always give away significant warning when someone could be dangerous towards the warden, his friends and bonded companion.

 

Pushing up off the bed, stood and turned to face the elder man. Hadrian’s head leaned to the side, brows furrowed, as one hand casually drifted to the hilt of a dagger.

 

Those blue-eyes of the other had clearly observed the action of his hand, before returning to study the elf’s green-eyes and expression. When suddenly a gentle smile appeared, then the older man spoke with a nod, “Yrrahekawa uoyees otdalgmi.”

 

The younger of the two didn’t trust this whole situation one inch, his fingers tightened on the dagger for a split second before relaxing once more. Those words were similar and very familiar. The dark-haired man had spoken the same language, allowing him to recognise familiar sounds and one of those sounds had already registered as a word in itself. With having an ability for languages, his mind had already pinpointed a correlation and recognised the word. It was as though Hadrian had spoken the language before.

 

“Eciffoym nikaeps sutelemoc.“ With a gesture to follow him, the white-bearded man turned and walked towards the entrance of the white room of healing.

Pausing just a moment, tentatively began to follow after the older individual. Passing various beds, pushed through the wooden entry and Hadrian found himself in a different wing of the Healing quarters. Glancing around spotted the violet-coloured clothing of the other figure walking towards what was clearly the entrance of the rooms of healing. Making sure to move with great care, eyes always scanning for threats, hands upon his weapons. The elf felt very uneasy in this place, he had no backup, assurance or guarantee that anyone the black-haired elf met would be an ally to count on. Everyone in this place was a threat and it terrified him, though it didn’t show on Hadrian’s focused expression.

 

Exiting the Medical Wing, the black-haired young man slowed slightly. Still following the retreating back of the older mage, discreetly looked around with quick glimpses with widened eyes from side to side.

Stone walls & stone floors, very typical of castle constructions, that was the usual business in the warden’s line of work hunting the darkspawn. Paintings littered the walls, along with armour standing alongside the walls, all of that was normal. What was not normal were the paintings that moved, it was like they lived! Seeming to live and breath, darting in and out of each other's portraits, having conversations, even reacting and communicating to people on the outside looking in on them. Moving staircases, crunching as they shuddered to a stop as they changed position, it was all so bewildering.

 

As children stepped out of the way as the two of them passed, Hadrian could feel eyes on him as he followed the mage through the castle grounds. Glancing behind, caught a glimpse of grey eyes and blond locks, before focusing again on the back of the mage the elf was following. Finally, they came to a stop in front of a bronze griffin statue. Tilting his head in question, watched as with word “Spordnomel” the statue of the bronze griffin began to move, turning downwards as stairs formed to lead upwards.

The older mage then strode forward up the new pathway. Curious, Hadrian placed his hand upon the stone of the stairwell and focused, his own magic connecting to the innate magic of the place. The inherent magic of this place had formed the stairs and the password which had been written into the stone bloomed within the elf's mind, thus it granted him his first genuine understanding of the mages language. <Lemon Drops>

 

The warden lowered his hand from the stone, grimacing at the sudden headache developing behind his left eye, turned and followed the elder up the stairs. Arriving at the top of the spiral staircase found a wooden door ahead of him, walking forward Hadrian grasped the iron handle, twisted it and pushed the door open.

Stepping into the office he found to be the most peculiar place, items of eccentricity rested upon varied surfaces, spindly objects that moved in circles on miniature points. Balls of multiple color's circled one another inside a metal enclosure and brass gadgets that gave off unfamiliar green smoke. This place was all completely different from what the elf recognised, but what Hadrian could feel from the pieces implied something remarkably familiar, the frightful power and magick contained within each one.

Directing his gaze towards the desk in the centre of the room, saw the mage had seated himself behind it in a somewhat… plush looking vividly colored chair, it was all very… unpractical. In front of the desk, sitting in a somewhat more attractive set of chairs, was the dark-haired hume. That dark gaze just glimpsed at the elf from over his shoulder before looking back at the older male Hume. In a different chair was a stern-looking lady, she had donned a green-robe over a black one with a golden broach to fasten it. A large black hat sat upon her head while piercing green-eyes aimed to evaluate him back just as thoroughly. Ultimately wearing a white-robe upon red, with a white cap was the final adult within this room and if Hadrian was not mistaken, was the matron healer of the white rooms.

 

Then the Old Hume behind the desk smiled and sat back in his plush chair, holding out a hand towards the last empty space in the semi-circle of seats and spoke warmly towards the Warden.

 

“Ewllahs tahcaevah sutel. Taesa evahasealp yrrahemoclew?

 

End Chapter 3