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Summary
They had called him a hero after the Blight. Decorated him with pretty little titles. Had even erected a statue in his honour, its marble hand holding aloft a sword that had never existed and that he wouldn't have had the first fucking clue what to do with even if it had.
It was a palatable tale for the masses. A fake fucking narrative designed to erase the fact that he wasn't a hero and had never intended to be. He was just another piece of street rat trash raised in the gutters of Kirkwall and was, frankly, perfectly content to stay there.
But what he intended never seemed to matter these days. Whether by fate or just plain bad luck he'd found himself, once again, wrapped up in someone else's story.
The Rise of the Champion, as seen through the eyes of former grey warden, mage, and unwilling hero, Soren Amell.