Tangents

Dawn broke over the Keep, slowly filling the ruins of Amaranthine and bathing the people in warmth. It heralded another day, to build and rebuild and regroup and gather what remained after the sack of the city. Although eight years had passed, much of the stone needed finishing or reinforced. But the people of Amaranthine knew a worthy task when they saw one, and getting their homes back was a cause if there ever was one.

The morning sun broke against two figures on the Keep's rooftops. The Commander of the Grey, Hero of Ferelden, the Savior of Mages, Aren Surana, stood proudly against the orange light, red hair brighter than normal in the tint. She squinted down at the land, taking in what materials she needed to order and if the cemetery needed expanding. To her left was the Champion of Kirkwall, one Eldrun Hawke, dark auburn hair a contrast to the firey mage's beside him. He did not open his eyes against the light, focusing on freeing his aura to slip into the Fade.

A rapping on the roof's door startled the taller mage, while Aren simply blinked and turned to face the messenger.

"Commander," the boy said, out of breath and panting, panic in his eyes. Aren's hand was on her staff immediately. "There's been word from Orlais."

"Netet," she said, voice as calm as she could manage, "what happened?"

"The Circle, messere," he said, voice cracking, "the Circle has fallen."

- - - -

"Ready the wagons, I want them out of the city and on the move in ten!" Aren barked at a group of Warden recruits, the group scrambling to finish loading weapons and ammunition into the two wagons. An ache pounded at the base of her skull, tension riding high at the news of the Orlesian Circle. A city ruled by beauty and the Chantry, if it had fallen...

"Wait! Commander, wait!"

"Nathaniel," she sighed, turning to face the man approaching at a jog. "I really can't. You're my second. You have the Keep until my return, and you take the position of Commander if I do not. You cannot accompany me because of this."

Nathaniel Howe's expression fell. "Commander, please, we don't know what's going on with the Circle, what-"

"That's why you and Velanna are remaining here," she said, voice strained with forced patience. She needs to check on the wagons and find Butler and the Champion. "You need a mage with you if refugees come. I trust Velanna."

"I-Yes. Yes, Commander." He stared at her a moment longer, then clasped her shoulder. "Come home after this, Aren. We need you here, too."

She touched his forearm in acknowledgment, then turned, walking toward the front stairs to the Keep. Butler bounded up to her, barking happily at the aspect of being on the road. Despite his age, his coat never greyed, nor did he become lethargic. Most days he could only be drawn away from training recruits by food or an allowance to sleep on the bed.

She rested her palm on his neck, eyes darting for the few she was taking as her main force. Eldrun and Fenris would not be far from each other - Maker, they're worse than she and Zevran ever were - and her Crow would likely be waiting at the gate, hopefully making sure those wagons were leaving.

Aren laughed to herself, spotting the Champion and the lyrium-imbued elf on the interior of the gate, faces close and Eldrun's arm around the shorter man's waist. Fenris looked unhappy about this, but to Aren, he never really looked all that thrilled about anything.

"Champion," she called out over the din of departure noise, startling Fenris, "I leave for Orlais momentarily. I was hoping you two would join me."

Eldrun threw her his trademark smirk, eyes sparkling. "Why of course, when would I ever refuse a chance to have darkspawn bits all over me?"

"It seems unlikely we will be facing darkspawn," Fenris said, finally slipping away from Eldrun's arm. The mage pouted at it. "Hawke mentioned something happened at the Circle...is it as Kirkwall became?"

"I don't know," Aren admitted. "But if the Circle fell, I'm too worried to wait and see what happens. As much as I hate the Chantry, rules are needed. I will not see Ferelden or Orlais become Tevinter." The men nodded their agreement, and Aren turned as Baron barked a greeting to her left.

"Ah, it seems we head out to war again, no?" came the smooth Antivan accent she was expecting, smirk in place, but not at all as light as Eldrun's. "It seems your supply of enemies never stops."

"Hawke, Fenris, could you check the wagons? Make sure they have guards with them, we need those supplies," she said. She needed to talk to Zevran, and quickly. Eldrun nodded, and they set off past the gate. "Zevran, the Orlesian Circle fell. This isn't good; it's going to be worse then repairing the tower at Lake Calenhad, it's going to be worse than Kirkwall."

He smoothed her hair behind her ear as he stepped closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Mi amor, nothing will stop me from fighting with you. If this is your end, it is where my blade breaks. The darkspawn will not have you."

She gripped the belt on his tunic tightly, taking in the scent of leather in the calm before the storm. "I know. But do not be so reckless, I don't want to have to reanimate you."

"Ever the romantic, my dear."

"Commander!" Hawke's voice rang from across the entrance way, "The wagons are ready! They're waiting on your word!"

They went forward, signaling for Nathaniel to draw up the gates, when the wind picked up, flickers of green lightning dancing across the sky. Aren braced herself in front of Zevran, drawing a barrier up around whoever she could, mages around her doing the same; Hawke was trying to maintain one around both wagons.

A terrifically bright flash drew her attention to the sky again, but this was no simple flash - the sky had torn itself completely open, lightning rain pouring down around the city.

Searing pain tore through Aren's spine, and she fell to her knees as she screamed. Several mages had done the same; an unfortunate few had fallen unconscious. She felt Zevran's arms around her shoulders and Butler towering over her, growling at the unknown force.

But she knew. She knew every mage across the world was feeling this, a communal pain, felt only by those touched with magic.

The Veil was no more. The Fade was rendered open.

'Maker help us all.'