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The sun dipped low over the vineyard, casting the lush vines that sprawled over rolling hills in a warm, golden glow. The breeze carried the scent of ripening fruit and fresh earth, rustling through the long, caramel strands of Arendil Thorne’s hair as he walked among the rows, his fingers brushing lightly against the leaves as he inspected the grapes. He’d been out since dawn, pruning the vines with meticulous care.
The task should have been soothing – the vineyard was their dream, a quiet life away from the chaos of the duties of the Crows and the Wardens – but today, his hands trembled as he gripped the shears. The hum was there again, buzzing faintly at the edges of his mind. It was like a distant song that he couldn’t quite hear, a sound just out of reach that tugged at his thoughts. He gritted his teeth, willing it to stop, but it only grew louder as he focused on it.
His hands faltered, and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a slow, shaky breath as he leaned heavily on a post beside him, one hand gripping a vine for support. It was happening more often now – moments where the world blurred, and the whispers rose, clawing at his thoughts like nails against glass.
He thought of the Deep Roads, of the darkspawn lurking in their tunnels. How many would he manage to fell before…?
“Arendil!”
The familiar voice startled him, and he swayed slightly on his feet as he straightened abruptly, turning to see his partner riding toward him on the black gelding he most favoured. Lucanis’ tousled dark hair caught the sunlight as his sharp features softened into a smile.
“Back already?” Arendil called, his voice light as he tried to suppress the weight of his thoughts.
Lucanis dismounted gracefully, leading the horse to the fence. “Business in Treviso was dull as ever. A few squabbles between merchants, nothing worth staying for.” He shrugged, tugging off his gloves. “First Talon duties are never finished, but I promised I wouldn’t linger too long, didn’t I?”
The elf nodded, though his mind was elsewhere. The hum in his head was impossibly loud, a maddening presence he struggled to ignore. Lucanis frowned, stepping closer.
“You’re quiet,” Lucanis noted. “Quieter than usual, I mean.”
“I’m fine,” Arendil replied quickly, his voice tight. Too quickly.
Lucanis’ eyes narrowed and his gaze lingered on the Warden, assessing. “How’s the vineyard?”
Arendil forced a faint smile as he wiped his brow. “Thriving, I think. You’ll have to try the grapes later. Sweet as honey this season.”
Lucanis approached, tilting his head to study Arendil more closely. “And you? Thriving as well?”
The elf hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “Tired,” he admitted, gesturing to the vineyard. “It’s hard work keeping this place going. But worth it.”
Lucanis didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he let it go, instead reaching out to touch Arendil’s arm. “Good. Because I missed you.”
The simplicity of the statement sent a pang of guilt through Arendil. He leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to Lucanis’ forehead. “I missed you too.”
Arendil did his best to maintain their routine. He rose early, tended to the vineyard, prepared meals, and sat with Lucanis under the stars at night. But the hum grew louder, more insistent, until it became a constant presence in his mind. It robbed him of sleep and focus, making his hands clumsy and his thoughts scattered.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Arendil sat on the porch overlooking the vineyard. Lucanis was inside, humming softly as he prepared dinner. The air smelled of fresh herbs and roasted meat, but Arendil couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it.
The Calling was louder now, almost deafening in the stillness of the evening. It was a low, mournful song that spoke of deep caverns, of darkness, of the inevitable. He clenched his fists, trying to block it out, but of course… It was no use.
“Arendil?”
Lucanis stepped out onto the porch, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the elf’s tense posture. He set the plates he was carrying down on the small table and approached, sitting by Arendil’s side.
“Please, Arendil… You’re not fine,” Lucanis said bluntly, his voice softer than usual. “You’ve been distracted for weeks. I know something’s wrong. Tell me, mi amor.”
Arendil looked away, his jaw tightening. “It’s nothing. Just tired, like I said.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
The steel in Lucanis’ tone made Arendil flinch. He sighed, running a hand through his long hair. “It’s not something you can fix, Lucanis.”
“Let me decide that,” Lucanis countered. “Talk to me. Please.”
For a moment, Arendil stayed silent, the weight of his secret pressing down on him. But as he looked into Lucanis’ eyes – filled with worry and unconditional love – he realized he couldn’t hide it any longer.
Arendil took a deep breath, his green eyes searching Lucanis’ dark ones. “I’ve been hearing the Calling.”
Lucanis’ brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “The Calling? As in… The Grey Warden’s Calling?”
Arendil nodded, his throat tightening. “It started a few months ago. Just faint whispers at first, easy enough to ignore. But it’s been getting worse. Louder. More frequent.”
Lucanis leaned back, his hands resting tensely on his thighs as he processed the revelation. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Arendil admitted. “This vineyard, this life we’ve built together… I didn’t want to ruin it. But I can’t hide it anymore. The Calling doesn’t stop. It’s… It’s taking me.”
“Taking you where?” Lucanis’ voice was sharp, his eyes narrowing. “Into the Deep Roads? To fight darkspawn until…”
“Until I’m gone.” Arendil finished the thought, his voice breaking. “Yes. That’s how it ends for us, Lucanis. You know that. We’ve always known that.”
Lucanis froze, the colour draining from his face as the words finally sank in. “No,” he said softly, almost pleadingly. “No, mi amor, you’re too young…”
“It doesn’t care about age,” the Warden bitterly replied. “The taint doesn’t care about dreams or promises or love. It just… Takes.”
Lucanis stood abruptly, pacing the length of the porch as he ran a hand through his hair. “There has to be a way. Something we can do. We’ll go to Amaranthine, or Orzammar, or…”
“Lucanis.” Arendil’s voice, calm but firm, stopped him. “There’s no cure. You know that as well as I do.”
Lucanis turned to face him, his eyes blazing. “So what? You’re just going to accept it? Let it take you? That’s not the Arendil I know.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” Arendil said, his voice breaking. “But this isn’t something I can fight. I’ve seen what happens to Wardens who ignore the Calling. I won’t become one of them.”
Lucanis sank back into his seat, his head in his hands. “You can’t ask me to let you go,” he whispered. “Not after everything we’ve been through.”
Arendil reached out, gently placing a hand on Lucanis’ shoulder. “I’m not asking you to let me go,” he said softly. “I’m asking you to help me make the most of the time we have left.”
Lucanis looked up, his expression torn between anger and despair. “How much time?”
“A few months, maybe less,” Arendil admitted. “It’s getting harder to ignore.”
Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating. The only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets, the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the melody reverberating in Arendil’s very blood.
Finally, Lucanis spoke, his voice low and determined. “We’ll make it count. Every moment.”
Arendil nodded, a small, sad smile on his lips. “Thank you.”
Lucanis reached for his hand, holding it tightly as if anchoring himself. “Don’t thank me. Just promise me… When it’s time, you won’t face it alone. Stay with me until the end, and…”
The Crow’s arms wrapped tightly around Arendil’s taller frame. The elf closed his eyes, leaning into the embrace and savoring the warmth and strength of Lucanis’ arms around him. “I’ll stay as long as I can,” he promised, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. “Every moment I have left, I’ll spend with you.”
They sat there for what felt like an eternity, clinging to each other as the sun set outside, casting the vineyard into twilight. The song of the Calling lingered in Arendil’s mind, but for now, he forced himself to focus instead on the heartbeat of the man he loved.
“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, you know.”
Arendil wrapped an arm around him, resting his chin on Lucanis’ head. “And you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I just wish we had more time.”
Lucanis closed his eyes, committing the moment to memory – the warmth of Arendil’s embrace, the scent of the vineyard, the fading light of the sunset.
“Me too,” he whispered.