My Warden (COMPLETED)

The Calling

To Lana's surprise, the Inquisitor invited her to sit in on their meetings to plan Adamant's invasion. Over the course of a few days, she shared what she knew of the fortress, the fighting techniques of wardens, and anything else she thought would be helpful. The first time her stomach churned with the guilt still bubbling inside, but the elf only nodded appropriately and asked for the occasional clarification. Otherwise, he drew no attention to the mess she landed them all in. It seemed as if the best way for her to get on his good side was to colossally fuck up. Then again, perhaps it reminded him that she was far from this lauded hero out of legend. She was making it up as best as he, and often stumbled along the way.

When not providing research to the advisers, she enjoyed her free time with the commander. At first she passed it off as teaching his people how to defend from certain warden mage attacks most wouldn't see outside the deep roads. And then to spend a few hours after that alone together in his loft discussing techniques wasn't beyond the pale. It wasn't until she was trying to think of an excuse to weasel out of Hawke's bar crawl (which involved crawling to every table in the lone tavern and having to take a shot), that Lana realized she had no reason to lie. Admitting she intended to bed Cullen got her a thumbs up before Hawke ran out the door herself. Even while preparing for war, life seemed gentler than she thought possible, as long as she ignored the screams from her throat waking her in the middle of the night or the whispers gaining traction in the back of her mind.

Day five of preparing and they were almost ready to move on Adamant. Josephine had sent letters to every ally the Inquisitor built up in his time, and Leliana planted a few choice spies near the warden ranks thanks to Lana's intel.

"How many are we looking at inside?" the Inquisitor asked, his palms splayed out across the map. Parchment covered every inch, most written in a code that was then translated below in Leliana's neat hand.

"They can't get me an exact number," the Spymaster answered. She lifted up her wine glass and took a sip, rattling the other's empty glasses. The day grew long, sunlight fracturing through the orange leaves outside the window. Hours were lost scrutinizing the translated reports, everyone on edge as their time to march grew closer.

"It is a wonder you got anyone in at all," the Inquisitor spoke, then he turned to Lana.

She shrugged, "Wardens have always relied upon support outside our ranks. If everyone who worked for us risked the joining we'd be broken before we began." Lana fiddled with the scarf knotted around her neck. A loan from Leliana, it was to hide away the bruises and keep her from any unwanted questions. It also made her feel like a right pillock for even needing it, but the sentiment was kind.

"How much more can they get to us?" Cullen asked. He stood across from her, his eyes hunting across the map as if he could spot Corypheus hiding away in thedas. But on occasion he'd break from his duty and softly smile at her. Even the spine of steel could melt.

"That I cannot say," Leliana answered. "We get at best one raven from each of them. Any more and they risk revealing themselves."

Lana shook her head and swiped through the piles of vellum. "They won't get near Clarel regardless. Anyone new's put through..."

"A gauntlet of trials?" Josephine asked, her punctuated eyes darting to their warden.

"The whipping kind, or the tickle and fun one? Unless you like both, I guess," Hawke spoke up. No one questioned why the Champion was there. Even though she had little to add to the conversations, she was welcome. Distracting, but in that entertaining Hawke way.

"No," Lana sighed, massaging her temples, "I was going to say that there's a hierarchy. Reaching to the top requires years of service, a devotion that's rewarded with more trust. Which also means you're privy to more warden secrets."