faderift | MOD EVENT ↠ IT'S A WONDERFUL LIFE

I. The kettle on the hob

The busy, crowded streets of Denerim grow more crowded around one of the many street food stalls, located in the Market District within sight of the gate to the Alienage. At the stall is a dark-skinned woman with silky black hair and a strong Antivan accent. At her elbow is her son, strands of hair clinging to his sweat-damp face as he struggles to keep up with the demand. At age twenty-six, he still hasn't been trusted by his mother to do the actual cooking, although he knows he is ready. It's about control, with her. She won't trust anyone else, and she won't become irrelevant. So he puts ingredients together in a bowl to give to her to cook fresh for the customers. In-between orders, he uses an apron to wipe at his face, head reeling at the fact that he's exactly where he dreamed of being yet he would rather be almost anywhere else. The apron comes down, and his eyes are glazed over, at once incredibly busy and incredibly bored.

"Colin!" Adessa says sharply, and he goes back to assembling.

II. While the world is full of troubles
cw: child violence/harm

Crack!

The sickening, meaty sound is all an eleven-year-old boy can hear, as the crowd has gone dead silent in the streets of the Denerim market district. His mother's customers are scattered around him, some fallen to the ground, but the one who was threatening her is upwards of twenty feet away, splayed awkwardly, his head at an impossible angle to the rest of him. His breath catches. He takes two steps back before a hand on his shoulder stops him. It's his mother, and her face has a black expression on it. She's not looking at him, though. She's looking at the dead man.

He doesn't understand. He's never seen this part before. By this time, a Templar had already dragged him far away, but not now.

Someone screams. Someone else is shouting, "He's dead! He's dead!" And then there are hands on the boy, people pulling him in different directions, someone taking him by the hair and yanking, and eventually someone supporting him while someone else kicks him in the stomach.

"Mage! It's a mage! A mage killed him!"

"Mamma!" he cries out when he has breath, but she is leaning against her cart, tears in her eyes, shaking her head. She still won't look at him as the blows keep coming.

There's another loud crack! but this time it's not of the bone-breaking variety. More like the shattering of glass, followed by a low hisssssss as smoke billows out from below someone's feet. The crowd is soon engulfed in the dense, purplish miasma, and their grip on Colin begins to loosen as they cough, splutter, and seek out the source of this new commotion.

Which is when someone grabs Colin's arm and wrenches him free of his captor's fumbling grasp.

"Hey! What the--" the man exclaims, but his surprise is interrupted with a knee to the stomach, making him double over. It buys Athessa enough time to drag the mage boy away, out of the smoke and far enough that the din is just white noise in the distance.

"I think we're safe for a minute," she says, letting go of Colin to jog back a few steps and make sure they weren't followed. They weren't. Good. They can catch their breath, now. "Are you ok?"

She's small for 13, scrawny, but dressed in clothes that clearly cost more than an urchin could afford. Her wild hair is tied back, one of her knife-like ears pierced through with a hoop, and curl-toed shoes adorning her feet. She does not look like a denizen of Denerim.

Colin looks grey-green and is definitely in shock. One arm is curled around his abdomen where he was kicked, but despite the pain, a mantra is repeating in his mind: it's not real it's not real it's not real it's not real. He looks at his rescuer for the first time. Despite their age difference, they are of roughly equal height. It takes him a moment to work out what she means. Of course he's not all right, but that's not her question. Her question is whether or not he can keep running. His mother is back there, his family is back there, his father is in bed because he works the docks overnight, but a second ago, his mother wouldn't even look at him while he was being beaten. Maybe she'll come around after he lies low for a little while.

"I'm all right," he wheezes, out of breath from running and from the boot print on his diaphragm.

"Good. We have to keep off the streets," she says, co-opting the serious tone that her master uses on her to stop her crying. Firm, but not unkind. Purposeful. Not a tone a 13-year-old would come by naturally. She gives him an appraising look. "Don't try to push yourself to keep up with me. If you start spitting blood, I can carry you. Come on."

Clasping Colin's wrist in her left hand, Athessa drags him along, moving swiftly but not running. She checks each corner they pass to make sure they aren't spotted, and a few times she has to push her new charge backward to avoid one of the crowd-goers spotting them. They've fanned out, searching.

"I'm a mage?" Colin mutters, still clutching himself as if holding his guts in. "I'm a mage," he says faintly. "I'm a mage. I'm a mage. I'm a mage."

He repeats this ad nauseum until he runs out of breath. The longer they go, the greater agony is building on his side, and having never been through such pain, he stops her with a tug. Tears stream down his face.

"I can't," he gasps, leaning against the wall of a building. "I can't. My da works the docks. He won't know yet. His name's Anthony."

"If he doesn't know yet then he'll only have to hear about what happened," she says, letting him lean for a moment before she huffs impatiently and takes his hands in hers. She looks him in the eye, ignoring the tears. Nothing worse than having your tears pointed out. "He won't have seen what happened, and won't be making you a monster in their minds. That's a good thing. But if you go back now they'll kill you. That woman that was with you. Your mother?"

Her expression is serious, a hard thing in stark contrast to the roundness of her face.

Colin nods, wide-eyed. His mother loves him. She's just in shock. She'll come around given enough time to regret.

Athessa chews on her lip, weighing the likelihood that being brutally honest with him would be too harsh and make him despondent. It's a chance she can't take, so she goes for what she thinks he wants to hear.

"She's probably just scared. After a bit she'll feel bad about letting them get you. But until then we gotta lie low." She turns and kneels down, and reaches back to pull his arms over her shoulders so she can lift him. With him on her back and her setting off again at a slightly slower pace, she continues:

"You'll be safe with my Dominus. He's a mage, too, so he'll understand. He's meeting with some Dwarf from Orzammar right now, but our lodgings aren't far. We can wait there until he gets back."

A mage? Colin's not a mage. Except apparently he's a mage, and he killed a man. He killed a man. He killed a man. That is harder to deal with than being a mage. Being a mage means his life is different. Killing a man means his life is different and someone else's life is gone.

Their position is agonizing, and the pain is worse. How a scrawny little elf can piggyback him, he has no idea, but it feels like he's doing twice the work she is. He clings hard to her, and harder to what she said. She's just scared. After a bit she'll feel bad.

It feels like she's wading through sap, but somehow they're making good time. She hasn't been a slave long enough to have developed the muscle needed to do this kind of thing, but she has to do something. They would've killed him. She's just hoping that her Dominus' merciful side will make an appearance when he gets back. Perhaps seeing that his slave has done a good deed and helped a fledgling mage will help him overlook that she stole a smoke-bomb to do it.

"Here we are. Just...up those stairs..." The lodging is in a nicer area than the neighborhoods they had to detour through to avoid detection. She has to time it just right to avoid a guard patrol, but she gets them there. The guards probably won't be looking for him anyway; it was the rabble that was looking to tear him apart. Athessa sets Colin down at the base of the stairs, breathing hard. She can't carry him up, but she takes his hand again and leads him on foot through a door to the second floor.

"Sit down there," she instructs, pointing to a chair and bustling past to go into the main suite. With minimal rummaging, she finds a healing potion and grips it tightly, looking at it in her hand for a long moment before she returns to Colin. Now she's stolen a smoke-bomb and a potion. "Drink this."

Colin looks at it with some suspicion, despite how terrible the pain is. His parents weren't neglectful; he knows not to eat strange things, or drink strange things, least of all when given them by a stranger. The reality of being a mage hasn't even set in yet.

"What is it?"

"It's a healing draught," she says, taking the cork out of the bottle and shoving it into Colin's hands. "You got kicked with a boot half the size of your torso, you're gonna need it."

Given a moment to think about it, this is in fact the only person who was concerned with his survival, so Colin tips the bottle back and chokes down the potion. It settles warmly into his stomach.

"Why are you helping me?" he asks once he's sure he's keeping it down.

What kind of stupid question--

"You'd rather I didn't?" It isn't that she doesn't know why she's helping him, and thus doesn't want to have to answer. No, of course not, she just... doesn't think that explaining her compulsion would be productive. Yeah, that's it. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, kid.

Colin ducks his head. "No," he mutters from beneath a shield of scraggly hair.

Why did she snap at him? She hates it when she gets snapped at, and now she's doing it to this poor kid who's probably going to be disowned by his family. Good job, Athessa.

She huffs, and takes the empty bottle back. "What's your name?"

"Colin."

"I'm--"

"Athessa!" The booming voice that finishes her introduction sounds from the door, which opens seemingly without sound to admit a tall, imposing figure. Athessa jumps in surprise, turning quickly and holding the potion bottle behind her back. Now it's her turn to duck her head, staring at the floor.

"Yes, Dominus?" She responds, expending no little effort to keep from flinching at every step her master takes toward her. It's not a hasty approach, which would perhaps be preferable to the slow, quiet facade that offers no hints at what the man will do.

"What are you doing?" He asks levelly.

"N-nothing, Dominus."

"Nothing," he repeats, coming to a stop a mere foot away. "Do you take me for a fool, girl?"

"No, Dominus!"

"Are you touched in the head?"

"No, Dominus. I--"

"Then you're merely a thief and a liar," The man reaches for Athessa's arm and wrenches it forward, looking down with an unreadable expression at the empty bottle. He takes it from her and drops her arm like it's a poisonous snake, finally turning his attention to the boy. "And I imagine you're what's caused the commotion in the Market District?"

"H-his name is Colin, Dominus," Athessa says quickly, prostrating herself at the man's feet. "He used magic, and the people attacked him. I used one of your smoke bombs to distract them to get him away, I thought he'd be safe here until--" Her explanation is quick, desperate, pleading and hoping that he will see that she did well, reward her for her good deed, or at least not be angry with her. No such luck.

"SILENCE!" The demand kills the words in her throat and she clams up, forehead against the floor and eyes wide. The flash of rage on the man's face is smoothed away when he turns back to Colin, looking down a hawk-like nose at the boy. And whatever ire was in the voice that spoke to Athessa is suddenly gone, replaced with cool patience. "Colin, then. Tell me what happened."

Cold dread has settled in Colin's stomach. Now he knows what Athessa means by dominus. It's a noble, and talking to nobles is another of those dangerous things his parents told him never, ever to do. Nobles beat common children, consider them dirty vermin who spread disease. They're worse to elves, certainly, but anyone willing to hurt an elven child is willing to hurt a human child. It just might take a little more provocation from Colin than it has taken from Athessa.

Colin has backed all the way against the wall, one arm raised to protect his face. It's finally sinking in that the life he's lived till now is over, and this man holds his life in his hands, along with the life of his only friend.

"Please, milord," he says timidly. "I'll work to pay for the potion and the smoke bomb."

The man waves a dismissive hand. "Never mind about that, just answer the question. What happened?"

To hear his tone, you'd think he were the boy's father, asking his son to tell him how a vase got broken. Athessa, still on the floor, fingers splayed over the wood, lifts her head just enough to look at Colin, waiting to hear what he says and how much trouble they'll--she'll--be in.

Colin meets her eyes. There's something familiar and reassuring about her, in an uncanny way. He ducks his head again.

"It's just as she said, milord."

He kneels down before the boy, appraising him with a glance.

"Athessa." He addresses her without looking away from Colin.

"Dominus, I thought that if I brought him here we could wait for the mob to disperse and--"

"Stand up."

"--then we could take him back to his parents or..." Athessa's explanation is so hasty that she doesn't catch his order for her to stand, and when she doesn't get up off the floor, the man finally breaks eye contact with Colin to hook two fingers through the hoop in the elf's ear.

"I said stand, girl," he says, pulling upwards on the earring to make her comply. She yelps and clamps her hands over her ear to keep the ring from tearing free, and jumps to her feet. He lets go and, once again switching easily between anger and calm, says "Now, introduce us."

"I--What?"

"Introduce us. If you're going to be in my service you need to know how to properly introduce your master to people of differing class status, now bow like I taught you and introduce me to the boy."

Athessa blinks a few times, processing the order, but she starts to speak before the Dominus can scold her again.

"Colin of Denerim, m-may I introduce Magister Gaius Lucius of Ventus."

Magister Lucius nods his head in greeting as if he hadn't already spoken to Colin. He remains kneeling to speak to the boy at eye-level, interlacing his fingers over his bent knee.

"Now, Colin. I understand that you've demonstrated some magical ability today. You do not need to explain the details, I've already been informed of the casualty. I want you to tell me about your parents."

Colin of Denerim finally raises his eyes to look at the magister. If he didn't know how the man treated Athessa, or that he is a magister, he would think he looks kind. But Tevinters are dangerous criminals who take people to sell into slavery. But if that's what this man intends, why did Athessa bring him here?

But the question Lucius poses is just as vital. What can he say about his parents? He doesn't want to give details that could lead to their capture, if he is indeed in the hands of someone who would do so. So the relevant part only, for now.

"They love me," he says meekly. Fresh tears appear in his eyes. They do love him. But. "But if I go back, they'll be in danger. So will my sisters." Seeing the mob and feeling their blows made that very real. "I...think I have to go find the Templars."

Magister Lucius is nodding solemnly, affording Colin his full attention. Not in that humoring way that adults normally do when children are talking, either. He looks like he deems what Colin says to be important. Worthy of sympathy.

Deep down, Athessa feels a pang of jealousy, but outwardly she keeps her gaze lowered and rubs her ear.

"That is an option," Lucius nods. "They will take you to a Circle, strip you of your freedom, your rights, and they will subject you to the kind of cruelty dreamt up by cowards who recognize your power and fear it, and seek to make you lesser than they. Or," He puts particular emphasis on this, pausing so that the weight of his words will properly sink in for Colin. All of these bad things could happen, but there is an alternative and if you keep listening to me, I'll tell you your other option, the one they don't want you to know about. Along with that or comes a brief, reassuring glance from Athessa, and perhaps the hint of a smile. Lucius continues:

"Or, you can accompany me back to the Imperium as my apprentice. You will see the way things are meant to be, the ones with power in power, afforded the rights and privileges of nobility, and trained to wield magic rather than being given a small sliver of the knowledge you deserve. I will of course speak to your parents on the matter, but if they love you as they should, I think the preferable option is clear."

They never mention that sort of thing about the Circle. Magic is feared, and so Circles are positive things, keeping the mages in and fed and clothed and far away from people they could hurt. With the magister's words, Colin's stomach clenches as he is faced with the realization that those people in those Circles are peoples' loved ones, no more or less evil than the day before they were taken, and yet hardly anyone heard from anyone who went in. They could very much be subjected to awful things without anyone doing anything about it. It might be just as bad as they say Tevinter is.

Colin's hands dive into his hair, nails raking along his scalp. If his parents choose it for him, he won't argue. He trusts them, even if he's not sure about this stranger. He nods at last.

"If my parents choose it."

OTA

II. Prepare to make it double

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