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Her calling had come and she was to die in glory and to take down as many of the corrupt bastards before she was felled. Yet, when the time had come she hadn’t been delivered a deathblow. She would not be meeting the Maker or returning to the stone or whatever, no she was to face a fate worse than death.
The walls crawled closer and the air thickened with heat, with death, and the sounds of evil ricocheted around her. The darkspawn general held her calf in a vice, its dead and rotten fingers digging into her exposed skin. It paid no attention to her screams and it ignored her as she struggled to free herself. It did not notice, nor care, that her scratched and bloodied fingers dug into the earth in a feeble attempt to slow their course.
It continued on, deeper and deeper, where the darkness consumed, where the darkness gave life—
---
“Natia! Natia, wake up,”
Brosca lurched forward gasping for breath, her small hands fisted in the linen, sweat-soaked sheets of her bed. Her damp locks were plastered to her cheeks and the ends curling about her neck.
She could still hear the whisperings from the cavern, smell the sulfur and corruption, feel the pulse of the taint flowing in her blood. Brosca screwed her eyes shut and shook her head, muttering to herself it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real over and over, trying to convince herself she believed that.
“Natia, love, you’re fine. You’re safe,”
Brosca flinched as cool hands cupped her face but these hands weren’t the rotten ones from her nightmare, no, she knew these hands, and she knew that voice.
“Leliana,” Brosca whispered, the name of her lover breathed as a prayer. She slowly opened her eyes, a weak smile on her lips as she saw her beautiful bard sitting before her, “you’re back,”
“Of course I am—,” Leliana was cut off as Brosca threw her arms about her. The dwarven woman nestled into the crook of Leliana’s neck, inhaling deeply, as if her scent could chase away the remnants of her unease.
After having nightmares Leliana knew that what her dwarven love needed more than anything was to be grounded in reality. To know that whatever evil and destruction she had seen it was nothing more than a dream. The two sat together in silence in the early Orzammar morning, Leliana rubbing comforting circles across Brosca’s back and humming one of the many ballads she had composed of her warden.
“When it comes time for my calling,” Brosca began and Leliana tensed, “I’m not going to go to the Deep Roads, glory and honor be damned. I’m not going to become a brood—” a deep shudder ran through Brosca’s frame, “No, I want— what I want is for you— you to end it… end me,”
Leliana’s hand clenched into a fist against her lover’s back, “That is not for some time my love, and is it not Warden tradition—”
“Warden tradition can go lick a nug’s backside for all I care,” Brosca spat before she carefully leaned back making sure Leliana met her gaze, “No, I want you to do it. It can be poison, it can be an accident, you can look me in the eye, I don’t care, but I will not go to the Deep Roads. Promise me, Leliana. Promise me you will do this for me,”
Leliana couldn’t stand to see her Brosca so distressed and unhinged. It didn’t suit her. Gone were her lover’s eyes that were full of fire and life, no they had been replaced with a gaze that was haunted and frightened. An earnest frown had taken the place of Brosca’s usual bright grin.
Leliana brushed an errant lock of hair from Brosca’s face and gently smoothed the crease that had formed in between her brows. She leaned in to place a soft kiss upon her lover’s lips.
“Okay,” Leliana sighed in resignation, resting her forehead against Brosca’s, “If that— if that is what you want, I— I promise,”
Brosca’s entire body relaxed in relief at the bard’s words. Leliana didn’t return her love’s attitude but Brosca’s calling was a long ways off, maybe she would change her mind or she could help persuade her otherwise, but that was a problem for another day.
Two harsh raps echoed off of the bedchamber’s door. With a caress of Brosca’s cheek and a soft smile, Leliana rose and quickly crossed the room to open the door. However, before she was halfway there the door opened anyways and a beautiful dwarven lady walked through, a bundle of blankets in her arms. She was followed by another dwarf, a maid of some sort, pushing a cart laden with food and beverages.
“Leliana,” the dwarven lady exclaimed, “You’re home! And a whole two weeks early,” she peered around the human to catch sight of Brosca climbing out of bed, “Good thing your better half eats like a war nug or else I’d have to order for more food to be prepared,”
“You still might,” Leliana chuckled with a teasing glance towards Brosca who just rolled her eyes in reply, “but it is good to see you, Rica,”
“And is this little Endrin?” Leliana asked reaching for the bundle of blankets Rica held, “Oh my, he’s gotten big hasn’t he?” she held the small child close to her chest, cooing and lightly bouncing the small infant
“Babies don’t stop growing even when you’re away,” Brosca added playfully as she joined the two woman, “Can we eat now? I’m starving,” Both Rica and Leliana chuckled at the Warden, use to her mammoth appetite.
The three women sat at the nearest table where the maid had already begun laying out their morning breakfast spread. It had been difficult for Brosca at first to get used to having others wait on her, Dust Town wasn’t known for its compassionate and service-oriented attitude, at least not without a price.
In truth, Brosca had had to come to terms with a bevy of new changes in her life after ending the Blight. Shortly after dealing with the darkspawn threat in Amaranthine, a courier had arrived at the keep from Orzammar with grim news: King Behlen had died. The official story was that he had died in some training accident but Brosca didn’t buy it. Behlen had made many enemies in his quest for the throne, she wasn’t surprised it had finally caught up to him. The Assembly had also sent a request asking for the help from the “great dwarven warden who had so valiantly come to their aid before”.
Brosca had rolled her eyes at that but nonetheless had set out for her old home. Dwarves could be persistent and stubborn, it would be easier to deal with them sooner than later. She had been surprised when it was her sister who had met her at the gates of Orzammar and that it was she who had sent her the message, but she was even more surprised when she had heard her sister’s plan: make Brosca Queen-Regent of Orzammar until Endrin came of age.
She had been resistant at first, citing she was a Warden and she had a duty and responsibilities, but also that if she had nothing to do with Orzammar for the rest of her days it would be too soon; but for every argument Brosca had Rica had a solution, and for every time Rica swayed her sister’s opinion she had done the very same with two more nobles.
Eventually a vote had been called and the next thing she knew Brosca was wearing the same crown Caradin had made only months before, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t enjoy beating the nobles at their own game. Her entire life they had ignored her but now there was no way they could. It had been difficult hiding her smug smile that day.
“My Lady Regent?” Brosca looked up from her plate to see her second-in-command standing in the doorway to her chambers, a worried expression on his face.
“What have I said, Gildas?” Brosca said around a mouthful of food, pointing a fork towards the man, “I’m not a Lady—”
“That much is clear,” Rica chimed in.
“Yes, yes, Rica very funny, but as I was saying,” Brosca returned her gaze to her second, “Gildas, if you must be formal, it’s Regent, and if you are ever inclined to stop being so stiff it can simply be Brosca? Yes?”
“Yes Regent,” Gildas nodded, “but I do have some very important business I must speak with you on, immediately,” Brosca waved her hand for him to continue but the warrior seemed uncertain, it wasn’t until Brosca gave him a pointed look that he continued,
“It’s about the vote,”
Leliana and Rica froze, their meals forgotten as they swapped equally tense and uneasy looks. Endrin’s soft babbling and the shifting of Gildas’ armor were the only sounds in the room as everyone waited for Brosca to respond.
“They’re smart to have waited this long before making a move,” Brosca said with a snide curl of her lip, “It’s what I would have done. Harder to prevent, harder to stop,” she pushed herself up and away from the table, “Alright, meet me in throne room. I’ll be there shortly and then you can debrief me,” Gildas nodded sharply and then turned to leave, “Rica, you make sure all the nobles and merchants that are already on our side stay there, and keep an eye out for anyone trying to spread dissent,” Rica nodded her understanding and gathered up Endrin and quickly swept out and into the hallway.
“And what of me my dear Warden?” Leliana asked as she trailed behind Brosca who had headed for her armor stand in order to dress.
Brosca chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure you already heard about these rumors weeks ago and it’s why you’ve returned early,” she looked over her shoulder with a smirk after she had pushed her head through her chainmail tunic, “and I’m sure you already have some plans to take care of it,”
“You know me too well, my love,” the bard smiled.
Brosca quickly donned the rest of her armor, Leliana providing an extra pair of helpful hands when needed, and strapped her twin daggers to her back. She hoped it wouldn’t come to violence but it paid to be prepared.
“Alright,” Brosca declared, “let’s see what Gildas has heard,”
-----
Leliana waved after Brosca and Gildas from the steps of the palace, watching their retreating backs grow smaller and smaller as they headed for the house of a rather meddlesome noble. The bard smiled to herself imagining the shock on the noble’s face when the Royal Regent and her second arrived at their door. She wish she could be there to see it.
When she could no longer see the two dwarfs, Leliana made her way for the Commons. It was true when Brosca had assumed that Leliana had heard some rumors and that these rumors were why she had returned to Orzammar earlier than expected, but the subject of these rumors were not related to the Warden’s troubles or at least not directly.
Since being elected Regent, Brosca had been implementing many changes in Orzammar. She had started by building off of the foundation work Behlen had laid, opening trade with the surface and increasing incentive for surface dwarves and merchants to trade with Orzammar. Later, once she felt she had garnered enough support, Brosca had begun presenting legislation to improve the quality of living for the poor but most importantly the Casteless. It had been slow and tedious work, and they had met a lot of opposition at first, but gradually opinions were changed and century long mindsets were being reversed.
“Sister Leliana!” a bright voice called out, its owner waving an eager hand in greeting.
“Brother Burkel,” Leliana replied genially as the energetic man approached, “How nice to see you again. I take it everything is well with you and the chantry?”
"Oh yes, Sister,” Brother Burkel nodded emphatically, “In fact, we have three new converts, Maker be praised. I do hope you will stop by the chantry soon though. Perhaps even lead us all in the Chant of Light?”
“It would be my honor, Brother, as always, but you must excuse me I have some business I must attend to in haste,”
“Oh yes, yes of course! How silly of me, of course the advisor to our wise Regent is busy today. I mean, with such a momentous vote to be put before the Assembly today. Imagine, an Orzammar with no Casteless! Can you believe it?”
“Indeed, a day that will be talked about for centuries,” Leliana agreed, “It was lovely to see you again Brother Burkel. I shall see you later in the week my friend, we can speak more then, yes?”
“That would be wonderful. Andraste guide you, Sister,” Leliana bowed her head in reply and continued on. Brother Burkel could be overzealous at times but he was fervent in his faith and that was a hard thing to come by in an increasingly hostile and troubled age.
The large stone steps of Tapster’s Tavern came into view and with it the usual din of noise from its patrons. Leliana swiftly made her way into the tavern, expertly navigating the throng of people. Inside, she tossed a quick wave to Cora and then made her way to the back of the main room where she used a small door, quietly shutting it behind her.
Being a human in Orzammar one was easily noticed, if just for the height, but the fact that Leliana was an advisor and known lover of the Regent, she was twice as scrutinized and always watched. Fortunately, Leliana and Cora had been able to come to an understanding and so whenever Leliana needed an alibi she headed to Tapster’s.
Leliana flicked the lock on the simple door and jiggled the door knob, double checking it would stay. She stood still allowing her eyes to adjust to the dark before turning to the small end table next to the door. Carefully, she closed her hands around the candle and matches she kept there.
Lit candle in hand, Leliana took the several steps it took to cross the room and located a small stone on the wall opposite her. As she had done many times before she gently pressed the stone, it giving way and the wall slowly pulling apart to reveal a concealed passageway. She stepped inside quickly, the wall already closing again.
There was another end table, this time with a large chest next to it as well. Leliana placed her candle on the table and bent down to open the chest, a set of her lightest and quietest armor inside as well as a pair of daggers. She quickly dressed, folding her more sensible garments to leave in the chest and then leaned over the end table to snuff out the candle’s flame.
With practiced ease, Leliana made her way through the darkened passage, it eventually leading out into a darkened alleyway. She stuck to the shadows, careful to stay out of sight, and expertly weaved her way in and out and in between the various shops and houses in the Commons.
It was at the edge of the Commons, where it bled into the beginnings of Dust Town, that her targets finally emerged. How fortunate for her, it would make less of a fuss that way. Leliana hunkered down in the dark, waiting for an opening.
“Alright, we’ve been planning this for a month,” a scraggly dwarf with an unkempt beard began, “so we stick to the plan and everything should fall into place,”
“Right,” the smaller, cleaner dwarf replied, “knock the bitch off, get to the surface, get paid, and then live like kings,”
“Easy. Too bad we don’t get to play with the bitch beforehand. Never had Regent before,”
The two dwarves laughed lecherously at one another, their sick smiles stretching their dirty lips, revealing equally dirty and rotten teeth.
“And I heard those lady lovin’ girls are twice as feisty as those other bitches. I’ll miss not having the chance to tame one,” the dwarves laughed again.
Maker forgive me, but I’m going to enjoy bringing these bastards down Leliana thought as she lunged from her hiding place, a snarl on her lips and a dagger in both hands.
-----
"Everything is taken care of I hope?” Rica asked as she shifted and rocked a fussing Endrin who laid swaddled in her arms. Brosca smiled smugly as she climbed the few steps outside of the Assembly before gesturing for Gildas to head on inside and wait for her.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sister,” Brosca removed her greaves, flexing her fingers, “Everything under control with the other nobles?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, sister,” Rica smiled sweetly, Brosca laughed. If she had to guess, she’d bet that Rica had not only secured their position with their noble allies but had also gained the support of most if not all of those who would oppose the vote today. Rica may be Duster born but she was twice the diplomat of even the most highest born of nobles.
“Leliana,” Brosca called out in greeting at the approaching bard, a large grin on her face, “I was worried you wouldn’t make it, love. Finish your business?”
“It was just a simple matter, easily taken care of,” the bard replied.
Brosca took a step forward and grabbed Leliana’s hand a worried expression settling over her features, “A simple matter?” she mused, brushing her thumb over a red stain on Leliana’s knuckles, “You’ll have to tell me about it later,”
“Of course, my Regent,” Leliana smiled sheepishly as she pulled her hand back to her side, careful to keep it close to her robes, “but I believe the Assembly is ready, yes? We should take our seats,” the two dwarven ladies nodded in agreement. Brosca turned leading the way into the building and into the Assembly Chamber.
Deshyrs that had been lobbying for their cause one last time, quickly settled into silence when the three women entered. There were a few murmurs of dissent, a snide remark or two whispered to a friend, but most watched in quiet respect as the three descended the long staircase leading to the dais where the women would take their places for the vote.
Brosca sat first but Rica quickly took an elevated place behind the throne, carefully cradling her babe in her arms. Brosca may be Regent but it was important to illustrate that her power was not absolute. She was a guardian, a protector of Orzammar, and a vanguard of the throne— for Endrin. Leliana sat last, her place lower than Brosca, being a foreigner and a human, but as a royal advisor, Chantry liaison, and the recognized mistress to the Regent, she was still worthy of respect.
They were a formidable sight to behold.
“Lords and Ladies, deshyrs of the Assembly,” Brosca began, her rich voice filling the hall, her presence undeniable and strong, “We all know why we are here today and we know what is at stake. For too long Orzammar has allowed itself to be shackled to a way of life that has destroyed us more than it has preserved and now you must make a choice. Will you stand in the way of history? Will you cling to the old ways, condemning us to a fate where we shall wither and fade into nothingness?” Brosca’s voice rose and swelled with emotion, “Or will you be a part of a new legacy? A legacy that will not only be spoken of for generations to come but will also be the beginning of a new empire. A golden age for all dwarven kind, one that will be larger and stronger than ever before!”
Brosca sat, quiet, letting her words sink in, and with her back straight and eyes fierce, she coolly regarded the Assembly and asked, “What will you choose?”
They say that you can never shake off the dust from Dust Town. Just like the brand, you wear it for life. But as Brosca watched the nobles cast their votes, watched as history was made before her very eyes, she decided she no longer cared if she was called a duster because dusters were good people, hardy people, people who could adapt and survive, and it was a duster who had brought change to Orzammar.