Work Text:
Kaaras shot out of bed, covered in a cold sweat with fire burning at his fingertips, ready to attack whatever lurked in the darkness, but as his heart hammered in his ears, he realized he was alone. He couldn’t remember his dream, nor could he remember what he was about to shout as he woke, but there would be no going back to sleep for the night.
They planned to make another attempt on closing the Breach that afternoon with the help of their mage allies, but it was still hours before dawn, and Kaaras was restless. Sighing, he stood and walked to the small wash basin, splashing ice-cold water on his face before pulling on his boots and throwing on his coat. After a moment’s hesitation, he went ahead and grabbed his staff as well, not feeling comfortable leaving it behind. Then he headed out into the night and went through the gates to the outside of the village, nodding to the watchman as he left. In the time since returning from Redcliffe, the guards had become used to seeing Kaaras wander at all hours of the night. He wondered to himself whether or not it was a good thing that they were unperturbed by it, but he shrugged mentally. At least he didn’t have to explain to them why he was wandering in the middle of the night, though he had no doubt that Leliana was already aware of both his wandering and his reasons for it.
Kaaras glanced towards the tents that the Chargers occupied, relaxing as he could neither hear nor see any movement in the area aside from soft snores. He meandered towards the woods, picking the elfroot leaves that he came across since Apothecary Adan could always be heard grumbling about not having enough. It was still only late Harvestmere, but being so far south and nestled at the edge of the Frostbacks, the night air was bitingly cold against his face. Even as the tips of his ears went numb, he found the cold refreshing as it chased his nightmares back to the dark corners of his mind, put away to deal with another time. Still, even the snow on the ground reflected the sickly green hue that was produced by the Breach and the matching mark on his hand. Soon, he reminded himself, both would be gone, and then he could disappear back into the forest where he could hopefully be forgotten.
When he moved to another patch of elfroot poking out of the snow, a ram startled nearby. He chased it down and scared it back towards him with a shot of fire before taking it out with the blade on his staff. He figured it would make for a good meal for some of the soldiers in the morning, but then he caught sight of a slumbering druffalo. He stared at it for a moment before glancing back towards all of the tents, wondering how much noise he could feasibly make before waking half of Haven. Deciding not to risk it just yet, at least until the morning stirrings of life in the village could begin, he grabbed the slain ram by the horn and began dragging it back towards the village to drop off by the kitchens.
Part of him regretted not taking Dorian up on drinking in the tavern once they’d returned from Redcliffe, but the sensible part of him said that it was for the best. It was better not to become too attached to the people at Haven. If he did, then he would risk getting them hurt once headhunters inevitably caught up with him again, or someone would tip those same headhunters off once enough coin loosened their lips about their “Herald.” No, staying away was the best for everyone.
“Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll protect you.”
He shook his head to rid himself of the unbidden memory. It was ridiculous and childish to become so moved by such a little phrase. Granted, the man had followed through on that promise and they’d both made it out of that future alive, but that was a small feat in what was to come. After all, the “Elder One” had yet to show his face, and aside from the man likely being from Tevinter and probably having wrinkles, any clues to the man’s identity had yet to emerge.
Kaaras frowned and looked up at the breach as he walked, wondering just how a bunch of humans who had faith and little else expected to defeat a faceless, nameless enemy who had caused that. He honestly didn’t care what they believed. If they thought he was chosen by their god, that was their business—although their god certainly appreciated irony, it seemed—but he had no faith in a higher power. That had been burned out of him years ago. He did believe, however, that he could do something. That he would somehow be able to close the Breach and prevent the Elder One from rising to power. That he could help the mages who had been thrown into a fight for which they had never been prepared. That he could help the people across the Hinterlands who had suffered through a war that had no winners. That he could help the people in Haven rest easy with full stomachs under a repaired sky.
Dropping off the ram, he headed back into the forest to try to find another. He wouldn’t risk angering a druffalo and letting it run through the camps, but he could certainly take down a few more rams and help the cook clean them once the sun rose. After a few hours, when the sun was just barely starting to rise, a voice called out, startling Kaaras.
“Is this how you spend your nights? No wonder you’ve got such well-toned arms. It’s rather impressive,” Dorian called from where he leaned against the mabari carving, and Kaaras shrugged.
“What about you? You seem to be pretty muscled—for being a human mage, at least.”
“Oh, I’d say I’m both pretty and muscled compared to anyone.”
“Uh-huh,” Kaaras replied with a roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t help the twitch of a smile at the corner of his lips. “So you’re not going to tell me then?”
“Of course not. A man has to have his secrets, after all. Speaking of, is there some secret Qunari ritual involving goats of which I am unaware? Or perhaps Andraste requires her Herald to make sacrifices in her honor?” Dorian replied as he fell into step by Kaaras, eyeing the rams a raised eyebrow.
“They’re rams, and they’re for the village. It’s been a while since the soldiers have had a meal with more than jerky or soup, and the hides will be good for blankets or coats,” he said with a shrug.
“Ah, so not simply trying to find a new set of horns then. Have you been at this all—Oh. Well, I suppose that answers that question, then,” Dorian cut himself off as he looked at the row of dead rams, all neatly lined up next to the kitchens. “You know, I find that brandy does quite well for solving insomnia, just in case you’d like to try something other than slaughtering innocent creatures next time.”
“So you just like to wake up before dawn then?” Kaaras retorted as he set the two new rams in line with the others. Just a few more ought to be enough, he thought.
“Well, it seems that decent alcohol simply does not exist this far south, so alas, I am also awake and freezing my perfectly-shaped posterior off while wondering what makes a Herald decide to slay the entire ram population in the Frostbacks in the middle of the night,” Dorian replied, and Kaaras had to resist the urge to inspect Dorian’s “perfectly-shaped posterior” for himself. Instead, he shrugged and turned to head back towards Haven’s gates.
“I was awake anyway.”
“Yes, because the uncontrollable urge to slay every ram in sight is a side effect of being awake.”
“Are you going to join in or just watch me haul them back here all morning?”
“And miss out on the fun of killing helpless wildlife? Not a chance. Although, watching you come and go isn’t a bad way to spend a morning. It’s a rather nice view,” Dorian replied and Kaaras huffed a laugh. “Oh! The Herald does laugh! And here I started to wonder if being stoic was a requirement of being a part of the Chantry down here.”
“I’m not part of the Chantry. Declared heretic, in fact,” Kaaras countered even as he felt the back of his neck warming in spite of the cold. He adjusted the collar of his coat.
“Ah, of course. Well if you’re already considered a heretic, then there’s no harm in a little humor, right?”
“Do you want to trade knock-knock jokes, or do you want to kill rams?”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t manage both! Surely between the two of us, no ram would stand a chance. Perhaps your jokes are bad enough that the rams will simply impale themselves willingly,” Dorian jibed, and Kaaras paused for a moment before nodding.
“Yeah. They probably are that bad,” he agreed, almost cringing to himself as he recalled the terrible jokes some of the Valo-Kas told. Dorian whipped his head to the side with a look of surprise on his face that quickly shifted to mischief.
“Well if they are that terrible, I simply must hear them,” Dorian said with a salacious smile that made Kaaras’ neck flush red once again.
“Do you know what this coat is made of?”
“Leather?” Dorian replied, confused at the change of topic.
“Boyfriend material.”
A long pauses stretched out between them until Kaaras glanced over at Dorian, just in time to catch the man burst into a fit of laughter.
“Oh, Maker! That is just terrible!” Dorian finally managed once he’d caught his breath.
“Told you.”
“You must have more.”
“Are you the head of the Chantry?”
“Oh, no—”
“Because you’re Divine,” Kaaras finished, and Dorian covered his mouth to smother his laughter.
“With a joke like that, it’s no wonder you were declared a heretic!”
“Are you a Dalish mage? Because you look like a Keeper,” Kaaras continued, and Dorian snickered again. Kaaras enjoyed listening to Dorian’s laugh far too much, but it was more relaxing than killing rams alone in the dark, so he couldn’t help himself and continued listing terrible joke after terrible joke. “You must be a mage, because you’re enchanting.”
“No! Oh, no. That’s just too horrible.”
“Did you just use lightening chain? Because I think there’s a spark between us.”
“Vishante kaffas. You cannot be serious! How many of these are there?”
“Too many. They get worse.”
“I don’t see how it could possibly get worse.”
“You must be the Fade, because I’m in you when I dream,” Kaaras replied, and Dorian laughed so much he snorted—something he would adamantly deny if questioned—which made Kaaras huff a laugh of his own.
“Maker, that is absolutely terrible,” Dorian finally managed, but then paused. “I simply must tell Solas later. His face will be priceless,” Dorian finally managed and Kaaras laughed again, imagining the elven mage’s reaction. “Where could you possibly have heard all of these?”
“I was part of a merc band before all of… this,” he said, gesturing at Haven and the Breach. “The Valo-Kas. Some of them had a long-running competition any time we were on the road of who could come up with the worst one. They got pretty terrible.”
“I can only imagine. I’m surprised no ram has willfully thrown itself at us yet to end the misery of it all.”
“Maybe I already finished them all off before they had to suffer through that.”
“You did have quite a few already lined up. Perhaps there is a better way to spend the morning than wiping out an entire animal species?”
“Have something in mind?”
“I suggest we go somewhere not quite so freezing and play a few rounds of cards. If I’m lucky, your Wicked Grace will be as poor as your jokes.”
“Probably is.”
“Maker, don’t tell me that you haven’t played.”
“Then I won’t tell you.”
“Well, I’ll go easy on you: you can keep your clothing on even after I win all your coin. We can’t have the Herald getting frostbite, after all.”
“I’m sure all of the faithful will thank you for your consideration,” Kaaras replied with a roll of his eyes as he followed Dorian towards the tavern. He had no plans to drink so early, but a hot cup of tea sounded pleasant. And while he knew that he should be trying to distance himself from Dorian, he just couldn’t bring himself to turn the man down. Besides, if Dorian was up before the crack of dawn, meandering around Haven, then he probably needed a distraction from whatever had plagued his sleep as well. No harm in fighting off the demons lurking in the darkness together.
“So… I assume you’re Tal-Vashoth or something like,” Dorian commented as they settled into an empty table at the tavern.
“Why would you assume that?” Kaaras asked as Dorian shuffled the cards.
“If you weren’t, you would’ve split my skull open at our first meeting before I said a word. Centuries of warfare with the Qunari do lead to this state of affairs.”
“You’ve encountered Qunari before?” Kaaras as he watched Dorian’s hands manipulate the cards.
“Qunari raids are rather old hat for anyone from the Eastern Imperium. Although the attacks aren’t quite the rampaging wars of ages past. Now we’re like two angry dowagers who only remember to spit at each other when they pass on the street,” he replied as he cut the deck and shuffled again. Rather than being too deeply involved in the conversation about the Qunari, Kaaras was more focused on the relaxing tone of Dorian’s voice and the dexterity of his hands. The man was fascinating. He had the build and strength of a warrior, the dexterity and speed of a rogue, and the mind and magic of a mage. Impressive, by all accounts.
“Did you meet any Qunari personally?”
“None who weren’t rushing towards me with a sword. I was too busy running in the other direction to say hello,” Dorian replied, and while Kaaras could almost feel the other man rolling his eyes, he just gave a nod. “I’ve met some Tal-Vashoth in my time, however. Mercenaries and a few merchants. They’re not the same as Qunari. Might easily be a different people all together.”
“No one in Tevinter has issues with Tal-Vashoth?”
“I didn’t say that. Prejudices are deeply-rooted back home, but I have more sympathy than most. I also have an appreciation for an entire people who are so… muscular. A personal failing, some would say,” Dorian replied as he dealt the cards, and Kaaras couldn’t help a small smile as heat spread across the back of his neck again.
“Obviously those people just don’t have as good of taste as you.”
“Obviously. My good taste is just one of my finer qualities.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Of course you have! When I first saw you, I said to myself, ‘Now there’s a man who knows quality.’”
“Is that so? I figured you would have been more preoccupied with the demons attacking.”
“No, no. Not at all. They were a mere distraction. However, those jokes you were telling me have made me reconsider my original impression. They were absolutely terrible.”
“I did warn you.”
“No warning could prepare me for something like that. You should consider yourself lucky that I’m still willing to be in your company.”
“My gratitude, Ser Pavus. How could I possibly repay you for the pleasure of your company?” Kaaras replied with flare as he stifled a laugh and sketched a bow.
“Well, I suppose that winning all your coin will make a fine start. Also, I simply must hear more of those jokes.”
“Arl you single? Because I’d like to Bann you all night.”
“Oh, Maker! They just keep getting worse!”
“Told you.”