Work Text:
Keldon heard General Samson’s voice before he saw him. It was late and thanks to the generous application of elfroot tea most of his patients were finally sleeping. More than a few wouldn’t wake up again, the red lyrium destroying them rather than transforming.
“You should have told me earlier.” Fittingly for his position General Samson had a voice that carried easily.
“I do not require the attention of a healer”, the neutral, placid tone marked the speaker as a Tranquil, most likely Maddox, Samson’s...Keldon didn’t know what he was to Samson but he knew they had known each other for a long time.
“Remember Derret? He thought it was only a scrape too and then he keeled over two weeks later.”
“Ser Derret’s wound was considerably deeper than mine”, Maddox replied just as the pair entered the tent. General Samson had his hand on Maddox’ lower back as if he was guiding him.
“General Samson, Maddox”, Keldon greeted them. “What can I do for you?”
“Maddox is injured”, General Samson said after acknowledging Keldon’s greeting with a nod.
“I scraped my hand while working in the forge”, Maddox explained. “It is not an injury that needs your attention or resources.”
“Yes, it does”, General Samson interrupted before Maddox had finished speaking.
“May I see it?” Keldon asked, deciding to play it safe.
Maddox rolled up his sleeve and Keldon had to agree with him. The wound wasn’t even a cut, merely an inch long scrape running across Maddox’ forearm. But he could also see General Samson’s anxious expression and decided not to meddle. If the General wanted his Tranquil to be healed then Keldon would do that. Thankfully most of his other patients were sleeping or the gossip would be worse than it already was. He ran his hand over Maddox’ arm, letting his magic heal the damage.
“Thank you”, Maddox said. Keldon always found Tranquil unsettling and Maddox wasn’t any different.
“Thanks”, General Samson said as well. Then, turning to Maddox, he added, “You need to be more careful.”
Keldon was certain that if Maddox hadn’t been tranquil he would’ve rolled his eyes at the General. Keldon knew that he was tempted to. But Maddox merely said, “I will do my best”, in that eerily flat voice of his.
/
Fornier had heard rumours about the Tranquil Maddox that General Samson kept around although she had never met him until now. She had heard the gossip though. Who hadn’t?
“Take another cloak”, Samson said, already holding the garment in question in his hands.
“I’m dressed suitably for this weather”, Maddox replied.
Fornier couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. She couldn’t understand why the General would fuss over a Tranquil. It wasn’t as if they needed it.
“I know. Take it anyway.” Samson draped the cloak over Maddox’s shoulders, making sure the hood was up even though Maddox was already wearing a hat. It was an action more suited for a father towards his son than for a general towards his...whatever Maddox was.
Maybe those rumours were true after all.
“That is unnecessary”, Maddox said. “Now you’re without a cloak.”
“Your armour keeps me warm enough”, Samson replied. “And I’m leaving tomorrow. Nevarra is a lot warmer than Sahrnia.”
“You are behaving irrationally”, Maddox pointed out.
If it had been anyone else Samson’s reaction wouldn’t have been a laugh. “That’s me.”
Fornier looked aside. It seemed as if those rumours were definitely true.
/
Besen had always thought that Tranquility was a desirable state for most mages. There were so few of them that were not rebellious or drawn to blood magic. Still he had learned not to voice his opinion out loud in the vicinity of General Samson. For whatever reason the General had sympathy for the mages and was downright defensive of Tranquil. One Tranquil especially.
When Samson’s letter had arrived that Besen should treat Maddox as he would treat Samson, it had already sounded weird to him but now that Samson himself had come as well, he found the General’s fussiness over the Tranquil downright disturbing.
“You should eat more”, Samson urged Maddox who had just finished his bowl of stew.
“I have eaten adequately”, Maddox replied.
“You’ve worked all day. One bowl can’t be enough”, Samson argued. Besen’s lips curled in disgust. Why would the General be so concerned about a Tranquil was beyond him. They were capable of minding their own business well enough and other than mages, they didn’t question orders.
“Here, take mine”, Samson swapped Maddox’s empty bowl for his half filled one. “I did nothing but stand around in your workshop all day.”
Unless of course there was something to the rumours circulating among the Templars about the General and his pet Tranquil. Besen had believed them readily enough. Tranquil were good for such things but this display of concern implied an emotional involvement that was both superfluous and disgusting coming from a Templar.
“Your concern is unnecessary”, Maddox said.
“Humour me”, Samson replied and nudged him slightly.
Besen excused himself. He needed to get out of here before he lost all respect for the General.
/
Conall had been given command over Dumat’s Shrine in Samson’s absence as long as she followed Maddox’s requests to the letter. The last person who had disrespected Maddox in Samson’s vicinity had been sent to the operation in the Hissing Wastes. Even when he was furious with them Samson wasn’t in the habit of executing his own soldiers for anything but the most capital crimes.
Conall didn’t get why Samson cared so much about Maddox hypothetical feelings but she didn’t question it. Samson was a good leader. He cared about his soldiers which was more than Conall could say for some other commanders she had served under.
“It’s late”, she heard Samson say, not too far from him.
Maddox was still at the forge while most men had gone to bed. Conall used the light coming from it to read until she was tired. The pain from the red lyrium often left her insomniac.
“I’m not finished yet”, Maddox replied in that perfectly serene voice all Tranquil had.
“That doesn’t matter. You should get some sleep.” Samson’s tone reminded Conall of her wife, who had often used the same tone when she had urged her to take better care of herself. She had died a few years ago but she still missed her terribly.
“It will take less time to finish it tonight than to start anew tomorrow.” Maddox often spent the whole night in the forge and slept very little.
“I don’t care about that. I don’t want you to push yourself too hard.” It seemed that Samson knew about Maddox’s habits but then rumour had it they had known each other long before the war had started. Maybe that was why Samson still treated Maddox as if he was a person.
“You do not need to worry about me. I take care of myself adequately.”
Samson was quiet for a moment before he said, “I want more than that for you.” There was something lost in his voice, as if there was more he wanted to say but couldn’t.
Conall turned back to her book. This wasn’t for her to listen to.
/
“Promise me you’ll be careful when you destroy the camp”, Samson said, anxiously putting his weight from one foot to the other.
“The Inquisition won’t find anything to use against you”, Maddox replied.
“That’s not what I meant. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I will be fine.” What Samson wouldn’t give to hear Maddox’s real voice once more, to see him smile or scowl or roll his eyes. Perhaps soon enough he would. If Corypheus was successful this new world of his would be limitless. There’d be no Tranquility anymore, no Chantry and no rules.
“Come to Mythal’s Temple as soon as you’re done here.”
“I will.”
“I will leave templars for your protection. They’re loyal and won’t question your orders.”
“Then they should protect you. Your mission is more important than my task”, Maddox pointed out.
“Your task is a part of my mission”, Samson corrected him. “I cannot be successful if you are not.”
“I will.”
“But not at the cost of your own safety”, Samson said. He knew Maddox had made a habit of putting the mission first and he despised it. Maddox had done more than enough for him already, had suffered more than anyone else fighting at Samson’s side.
“You don’t need to worry about me.” Maddox had said this whenever he perceived Samson fussing over him. Most times he had given in to Samson’s nagging anyway, seeing it as the path of least resistance.
Samson leaned his forehead against Maddox’s. Allowing him to take this small piece of physical comfort was yet another way Maddox was humouring him. “I will see you when it’s done.”
Maddox didn’t say “You will.” Instead he said, “Take care”, and Samson should have known.