Proof
A stab at this week's Zev prompt, "Zevran's death". Possibly AU simply because I haven't finished running Devin through Origins, let alone Awakenings, so I'm not entirely sure what sort of state he'll be in, emotionally, at the end of all that.
A few folks on the forum have requested a clarification-story to go with this... XD Maybe soon :)
Proof
Author: jenovan
Word Count: 1484
Time: 2 hrs, 33 minutes
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Warden-Commander Amell, Anders reflected as he ran down the Vigil's corridors, was usually a very difficult man to read; he kept his own counsel and seldom betrayed strong emotion. He was not precisely slow to anger - patience was not his strong point - but beyond cutting remarks and a contemptuous glance, the depth of his ire was often not readily apparent.
Which was why being summoned by one of the Keep's soldiers with an alarming claim like "I think the Commander is killing someone!" was almost literally the last thing he'd expect to happen.
"What happened? Who's he possibly killing?" the mage demanded as he kept pace with the soldier.
"I don't know, some messenger," the young woman replied, sounding bewildered. "He just arrived a while ago and asked to speak with the Commander alone. We didn't want to allow it, but he showed something to the Commander - I didn't see what - and he took him into his office and shut us all out. It was quiet for a few minutes, and then we heard shouting... and screaming... and that last bit wasn't Commander Amell." She seemed hesitant to say the last, reluctant to accuse the Hero of Ferelden of deliberately harming a simple messenger. "We can't get close to the door, I think he's done something to it..."
Something magical, of course. Well then. "Right, I'll handle that bit."
In a few moments, they stood in front of the Commander's office, a faint bluish light seeping through the gap between door and jamb. A wall of telekinetic force physically prevented anyone from getting to the door itself, but Anders could still hear Devin's voice, distorted by rage.
"Tell me the truth, demons take you! Where did you get these?!"
The healer quickly considered his options before turning to the handful of guards milling nearby. "I'm going to try to shut down his magic and then open the door," he said tersely. " I don't think he's going to like that, so let me go in first, but be ready - we don't know anything about this... messenger, and for all we know he's a Tevinter blood mage or something."
He didn't wait for a reply before he reached for Devin, getting a magical fix on the younger mage with an ease won through familiarity. Steeling himself for the potential battle of wills that might come shortly, he dropped an anti-magic burst on the Warden-Commander, and the field blocking the door immediately gave way.
A wordless cry of anger was Anders's cue; he threw the door open, a spell already on his fingertips. He had just enough time to see that Devin was drawing a glyph in the air before his sleep spell took effect, and the other mage fell to the ground, unconscious.
Andraste's Bloody Sword, the healer swore inwardly. To think there'd be a day when I'd have to act like a blasted Templar... As soon as he was certain the Commander was down, he turned to the stranger in the room. The "messenger" was unremarkable, a small wiry man who looked to Anders like a cutpurse or the like. Devin wasn't above working with such folk, so the man's appearance at the Keep wouldn't have been considered strange by most of the soldiers and Wardens, but who was he, and what was his true purpose here? What had Devin been so furious about?
As the guards quickly filed in and surrounded the stranger, Anders was surprised to see that the man was still conscious, if only barely. It only took the healer a moment to recognize the telltale signs of a Crushing Prison, one of Devin's signature spells; it had not been applied with the full, lethal force the Commander was capable of, but the messenger seemed to be in no condition to give Devin the answers he'd been demanding. Another sign of unchecked anger from the usually icy-cool Warden...
He spared only a few moments to cast a cursory healing on the man before waving for the soldiers to take him away; it seemed impossible that Devin would take such action against a completely innocent person, and perhaps it would be best to hold him for questioning. With that bit of security attended to, he turned back to the downed Commander, but before he could do more than note the man's clenched right hand - he always cast with his left - the sound of running footsteps prompted him to look up. Varel, Nathaniel and Oghren stood in the doorway, their eyes all drawn to the Warden-Commander sprawled on the floor.
"No, I don't know what happened," Anders said preemptively, "I just shut him down. But it looks like he's got something here..." As the other Wardens and the Seneschal filed into the room, he knelt down and gently pried Devin's hand open, revealing an ostentatious earring, and a medallion on a chain.
"Hey! That's the elf's earring," Oghren exclaimed in genuine surprise. "How'd he get his mitts on that?"
"Elf?" Nathaniel echoed, brow furrowed. Anders shrugged and picked the thing up to examine it more closely. It was a teardrop of garnet or ruby, capped in gold, and there seemed to be a dark stain on the ear-wire, possibly dried blood. He couldn't remember Velanna wearing such a thing.
"Zevran. Antivan. Ran around with us during the Blight," Oghren supplied, although the information did little to enlighten the others. "He always wore that, never saw him without it."
Anders frowned, beginning to get an inkling of what might have happened. "And this? Does it look familiar?" He picked up the necklace, noting that the chain was broken, the links near the break distended, as if it had been ripped from someone's neck. The silver medallion was engraved with an odd Chantry symbol on one side; the reverse was polished to a smooth, mirror-like finish. Unsettlingly, there was a single golden hair caught in the chain, longer than Devin's would be.
"Huh. That's the boss's, or so I thought. Used to see him wearing it, anyway."
"Recently?" Nathaniel asked sharply, before Anders could. "I don't remember seeing such a thing."
"Neither do I," Varel agreed.
Oghren shrugged. "Probably not, I dunno. I doubt he'd bust his own necklace, yeah?"
"I heard him shouting 'where did you get these'..." Anders said slowly. "I take that to mean that neither were in his possession recently." He held the chain taut between his hands, the strand of gold glinting in contrast with tiny silver links. "Is this 'Zevran' blonde?"
"Yeah," Oghren rumbled, his tone suddenly more grave. "Yeah, he is."
"Where is he now?" Nathaniel asked, exchanging a look with Anders.
"Dunno. I expected him to be with the Commander, but, well... He didn't raise the subject," and here the dwarf indicated Devin with his thumb, "so I didn't, either. Figured maybe they had a falling out or something. He's good at that, the Commander."
Anders glanced at his fellow mage, realizing how much he didn't know of the man's past as one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. "Good at what, exactly?"
"Having falling-outs. Fallings-out. Whatever. Thought the elf was pretty good at putting up with him, but maybe-"
Oghren's theorizing was interrupted as the Warden-Commander awoke and lunged for the trinkets in Anders's hand. Too surprised to resist, he let the younger mage take them, staring as Devin bent with his clasped hands touching his forehead, as if in prayer.
The room was silent for a long moment; all of them were staring at the Commander, as he seemed to struggle to hold back tears, or a scream, or some other venting of the emotion that was all too obvious in the stiff set of his shoulders.
"Where is he?" Devin asked finally, not looking up.
Anders swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to have to do another Templar impersonation momentarily. "The, ah, messenger? They've taken him to the dungeon for now."
"Good." Devin glanced up at him finally, his eyes like ice. "Thank you," he said coolly. "I might have been about to do something I'd regret."
"You're... welcome?" the healer replied as the other mage rose to his feet. He can't possibly mean to go down there now...
But the Commander walked to his desk, rather than the door, and slumped into the elaborately carved chair, setting his hand flat upon the desk with the jewelry beneath it. "I will want to question him later... with witnesses," he said with a ghostly smile. "For now, however, I need..." He paused and seemed to consider his words for a moment. "I need you all to leave. So get out."
On other occasions, such a remark might have been accompanied by a good-humored smirk, but not today. The Wardens and the Seneschal filed out in silence, leaving their Commander alone with his thoughts, and whatever ghosts might be bound within silver and gold.
.fin.
A few folks on the forum have requested a clarification-story to go with this... XD Maybe soon :)
Proof
Author: jenovan
Word Count: 1484
Time: 2 hrs, 33 minutes
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Warden-Commander Amell, Anders reflected as he ran down the Vigil's corridors, was usually a very difficult man to read; he kept his own counsel and seldom betrayed strong emotion. He was not precisely slow to anger - patience was not his strong point - but beyond cutting remarks and a contemptuous glance, the depth of his ire was often not readily apparent.
Which was why being summoned by one of the Keep's soldiers with an alarming claim like "I think the Commander is killing someone!" was almost literally the last thing he'd expect to happen.
"What happened? Who's he possibly killing?" the mage demanded as he kept pace with the soldier.
"I don't know, some messenger," the young woman replied, sounding bewildered. "He just arrived a while ago and asked to speak with the Commander alone. We didn't want to allow it, but he showed something to the Commander - I didn't see what - and he took him into his office and shut us all out. It was quiet for a few minutes, and then we heard shouting... and screaming... and that last bit wasn't Commander Amell." She seemed hesitant to say the last, reluctant to accuse the Hero of Ferelden of deliberately harming a simple messenger. "We can't get close to the door, I think he's done something to it..."
Something magical, of course. Well then. "Right, I'll handle that bit."
In a few moments, they stood in front of the Commander's office, a faint bluish light seeping through the gap between door and jamb. A wall of telekinetic force physically prevented anyone from getting to the door itself, but Anders could still hear Devin's voice, distorted by rage.
"Tell me the truth, demons take you! Where did you get these?!"
The healer quickly considered his options before turning to the handful of guards milling nearby. "I'm going to try to shut down his magic and then open the door," he said tersely. " I don't think he's going to like that, so let me go in first, but be ready - we don't know anything about this... messenger, and for all we know he's a Tevinter blood mage or something."
He didn't wait for a reply before he reached for Devin, getting a magical fix on the younger mage with an ease won through familiarity. Steeling himself for the potential battle of wills that might come shortly, he dropped an anti-magic burst on the Warden-Commander, and the field blocking the door immediately gave way.
A wordless cry of anger was Anders's cue; he threw the door open, a spell already on his fingertips. He had just enough time to see that Devin was drawing a glyph in the air before his sleep spell took effect, and the other mage fell to the ground, unconscious.
Andraste's Bloody Sword, the healer swore inwardly. To think there'd be a day when I'd have to act like a blasted Templar... As soon as he was certain the Commander was down, he turned to the stranger in the room. The "messenger" was unremarkable, a small wiry man who looked to Anders like a cutpurse or the like. Devin wasn't above working with such folk, so the man's appearance at the Keep wouldn't have been considered strange by most of the soldiers and Wardens, but who was he, and what was his true purpose here? What had Devin been so furious about?
As the guards quickly filed in and surrounded the stranger, Anders was surprised to see that the man was still conscious, if only barely. It only took the healer a moment to recognize the telltale signs of a Crushing Prison, one of Devin's signature spells; it had not been applied with the full, lethal force the Commander was capable of, but the messenger seemed to be in no condition to give Devin the answers he'd been demanding. Another sign of unchecked anger from the usually icy-cool Warden...
He spared only a few moments to cast a cursory healing on the man before waving for the soldiers to take him away; it seemed impossible that Devin would take such action against a completely innocent person, and perhaps it would be best to hold him for questioning. With that bit of security attended to, he turned back to the downed Commander, but before he could do more than note the man's clenched right hand - he always cast with his left - the sound of running footsteps prompted him to look up. Varel, Nathaniel and Oghren stood in the doorway, their eyes all drawn to the Warden-Commander sprawled on the floor.
"No, I don't know what happened," Anders said preemptively, "I just shut him down. But it looks like he's got something here..." As the other Wardens and the Seneschal filed into the room, he knelt down and gently pried Devin's hand open, revealing an ostentatious earring, and a medallion on a chain.
"Hey! That's the elf's earring," Oghren exclaimed in genuine surprise. "How'd he get his mitts on that?"
"Elf?" Nathaniel echoed, brow furrowed. Anders shrugged and picked the thing up to examine it more closely. It was a teardrop of garnet or ruby, capped in gold, and there seemed to be a dark stain on the ear-wire, possibly dried blood. He couldn't remember Velanna wearing such a thing.
"Zevran. Antivan. Ran around with us during the Blight," Oghren supplied, although the information did little to enlighten the others. "He always wore that, never saw him without it."
Anders frowned, beginning to get an inkling of what might have happened. "And this? Does it look familiar?" He picked up the necklace, noting that the chain was broken, the links near the break distended, as if it had been ripped from someone's neck. The silver medallion was engraved with an odd Chantry symbol on one side; the reverse was polished to a smooth, mirror-like finish. Unsettlingly, there was a single golden hair caught in the chain, longer than Devin's would be.
"Huh. That's the boss's, or so I thought. Used to see him wearing it, anyway."
"Recently?" Nathaniel asked sharply, before Anders could. "I don't remember seeing such a thing."
"Neither do I," Varel agreed.
Oghren shrugged. "Probably not, I dunno. I doubt he'd bust his own necklace, yeah?"
"I heard him shouting 'where did you get these'..." Anders said slowly. "I take that to mean that neither were in his possession recently." He held the chain taut between his hands, the strand of gold glinting in contrast with tiny silver links. "Is this 'Zevran' blonde?"
"Yeah," Oghren rumbled, his tone suddenly more grave. "Yeah, he is."
"Where is he now?" Nathaniel asked, exchanging a look with Anders.
"Dunno. I expected him to be with the Commander, but, well... He didn't raise the subject," and here the dwarf indicated Devin with his thumb, "so I didn't, either. Figured maybe they had a falling out or something. He's good at that, the Commander."
Anders glanced at his fellow mage, realizing how much he didn't know of the man's past as one of the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden. "Good at what, exactly?"
"Having falling-outs. Fallings-out. Whatever. Thought the elf was pretty good at putting up with him, but maybe-"
Oghren's theorizing was interrupted as the Warden-Commander awoke and lunged for the trinkets in Anders's hand. Too surprised to resist, he let the younger mage take them, staring as Devin bent with his clasped hands touching his forehead, as if in prayer.
The room was silent for a long moment; all of them were staring at the Commander, as he seemed to struggle to hold back tears, or a scream, or some other venting of the emotion that was all too obvious in the stiff set of his shoulders.
"Where is he?" Devin asked finally, not looking up.
Anders swallowed hard, wondering if he was going to have to do another Templar impersonation momentarily. "The, ah, messenger? They've taken him to the dungeon for now."
"Good." Devin glanced up at him finally, his eyes like ice. "Thank you," he said coolly. "I might have been about to do something I'd regret."
"You're... welcome?" the healer replied as the other mage rose to his feet. He can't possibly mean to go down there now...
But the Commander walked to his desk, rather than the door, and slumped into the elaborately carved chair, setting his hand flat upon the desk with the jewelry beneath it. "I will want to question him later... with witnesses," he said with a ghostly smile. "For now, however, I need..." He paused and seemed to consider his words for a moment. "I need you all to leave. So get out."
On other occasions, such a remark might have been accompanied by a good-humored smirk, but not today. The Wardens and the Seneschal filed out in silence, leaving their Commander alone with his thoughts, and whatever ghosts might be bound within silver and gold.
.fin.