The night was unusually quiet and only two humans were still traveling on the road leading towards Haven, a small and reclusive town up in the mountains. They were walking and the taller of the two – a young man with shaggy brown hair – was leading a beautiful white mare which was carrying their luggage, consisting mostly of several pots and pans, tents, a few blankets, and food.
"We should make camp," said his female companion now, motioning towards a nearby clearing.
She was tall but the lanky youth still towered above her. However, she clearly posed the bigger threat. The woman was moving swiftly but unheard, one with her surroundings, her boot-clad feet barely making any sound as they hit the ground. Two beautifully crafted daggers were strapped to her back and if one took a closer look, one would notice the unnatural gleam on both blades: poison… maybe a few enchantments as well. Her high-quality leather armor fit her perfectly and tightly hugged her figure; it undoubtedly didn't offer as much protection as a set of armor made of iron or steel would, but it was definitely the better choice for stealth and quickness.
She moved a stray strand of black hair behind her ear and swept her long bangs back to the side of her face. Where the moon lit up her pale features, a set of old scars contrasted sharply on the otherwise unblemished skin. Three jagged parallel lines ran down her left cheek, following her cheekbone and almost touching her eye. However, the flaw only added to her aristocratic beauty.
"How much longer until we reach Haven?" the youth asked as he led the horse onto the small clearing and started unpacking their tents.
"We should get there the day after tomorrow," the woman declared after staring off into the distance where the weak and tiny lights of the town could already be seen. Tomorrow would be a very trying day; she remembered clearly how the road leading up to Haven had seemed neverending the first time she'd traveled it almost seven years ago, how it circled the mountain in endless loops. The remote town looked nearer than it was.
She turned her attention back to her young companion and helped him set up their camp for the night. Bevin had turned 17 only a moon ago, barely even a man, but he'd practically begged her to recruit him so he could follow in her footsteps and become a Grey Warden.
And he definitely was a promising recruit. He handled his father's sword well and was quick to learn and pick up new things. He was always polite and never rash and she found that he was a decent enough rider.
She watched as the young man started gathering fire wood and softly smiled. She remembered how she'd had to coax him out of the wardrobe during the undead invasion in Redcliffe and how afraid he'd first been of her. She also remembered how he'd held his ground and fought for his father's sword – not that she'd ever wanted to take it anyway. The boy had been brave back then and with some more training, he'd be a great Warden.
She sighed and went to help him with the fire. Hopefully, he'd survive the Joining. They would do the ceremony as soon as they got back to Vigil's Keep and Helen Cousland was already dreading the real possibility of his early demise. How would she explain to his older sister that she'd saved the child during the Fifth Blight only to sacrifice him to the taint a couple years later?
"What is on your mind?" the boy asked, noticing the faraway look in his mentor and heroine's blue eyes.
"I… uh, …nothing," she shook her head to get rid of the dark thoughts, more strands of hair coming loose from her messy bun.
Bevin seemed to accept the answer but soon opened his mouth to ask another question.
"Leliana will be at Haven, won't she?" He remembered the friendly young woman with a smile on his face, a bubbly redhead who'd traveled and fought alongside the Hero of Ferelden.
There was a long pause but she finally nodded, confirming his assumption.
"I believe she will," Helen said, looking into the flames of the fire before meeting the boy's curious gaze. "She is the Left Hand of Divine Justinia – where she goes, Leliana goes."
"You must be happy about the prospect of seeing her again then," Bevin stated, expectantly looking at his mentor.
"I am," Helen smiled, one of the rare smiles that reached her eyes and made her whole face seem brighter and younger. "I haven't seen her since Alis- King Alistair's coronation. Leliana left shortly before his nuptials with Queen Anora, summoned to the side of the newly appointed Divine. Divine Justinia saved Leliana's life in another lifetime and she was grateful for the chance to be able to pay her back."
"So you haven't seen her in what- six years?"
Helen nodded.
"But weren't you friends? I mean..."
"We were," the Warden Commander confirmed, now wistfully eying the necklace she had never taken off in the last seven years, her Warden's Oath. "Time is a luxury when you are in the position I was in after defeating the Archdemon. There were barely any Wardens left and with Alistair as the new King of Ferelden, the task of rebuilding the Order was left to me. Of course, Leliana's responsibilities as the Divine's Left Hand didn't really simplify the matter either. Both of us traveled a lot and there are many things we wouldn't be able to share, secrets that are not meant to be told. We've written a few letters but I haven't talked to her apart from them."
"It sounds incredibly lonely."
"It is what it is," Helen poked the fire with a long tree branch to keep her hands busy and her mind clear. She didn't want to think about Leliana and the long time she hadn't seen her. At least not now. She'd need as much sleep as she could get tonight and if her heart and mind were focused on the red-haired bard, she could as well just stay awake and keep watch. She got up and strode towards her tent, giving her horse a gentle pat as she walked past her. "Power has never made for a good companion."
The ground beneath her bare feet was shaking, the scorching heat of the lava was burning her skin. The red glowing lava was the only speck of color and light, everything else was cold, black and hard, unyielding.
From the distance, she could hear the Old God's song, a terrible symphony of horror and pain, loss and death. The voice had turned painfully familiar with the years, yet it never ceased to shake her innermost core, to rock her soul with the heavy burden it reminded her of.
The dragon spread its wings and set off into the black sky, roaring as it soared through the stuffy air, breathing fire as it flew towards her, getting bigger and bigger the closer it got. Its song was a twisted version of the holy Chant of the Light; she didn't understand the words but she could feel them in her tainted blood.
The scene changed and Helen was falling through the black void. Falling, falling, falling. From everywhere around her, she could hear the animalistic cackling of the darkspawn and the screams of their victims.
Children and men.
Women.
Their cries were the worst. She knew what happened to women whom the darkspawn managed to capture alive... Knew of their violation ever since she'd met Hespith and Branka down in the Deep Roads.
And as one of the screams began to sound agonizingly like Leliana's, Helen startled awake, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding wildly against the confines of her chest.
The dreams were getting more frequent again.
Could it be...
No, she didn't even want to think about the possibility. She'd only joined the Order seven years ago, she was only 24… And surely she'd know if it truly was the Calling? Shouldn't she be able to feel the difference?
She didn't want to die. Not now. Not now that she had Grace to think of. Grace whom she'd left back at Vigil's Keep with Wynne and Mhairi. She hoped she didn't make too much trouble for Wynne. The mage was still holding up but the spirit who had saved her life during the Circle uprising was becoming weaker by the day. She worried for the old woman but tried to not let it show too frequently; Wynne didn't care for pity and she always said she was old enough to take care of herself. There wasn't much her former companion disliked more than being treated like a regular old woman, or worse even, a sock-knitting granny..
Helen pushed the blankets off of her and crawled out of the tent, slightly shivering in her thin shift.
The night was still young and Helen guessed that she'd probably only slept for two candle marks, maybe three. On the opposite side of the fire, everything was quiet. She could see Bevin in his tent, bundled up tightly in his blankets, looking even younger in his sleep.
It was the one aspect of her duties that weighed more on her than everything else: over the past six years she'd condemned dozens of young men and women to a short life filled with sacrifice and nightmares. And she'd condemned at least twice of that number to a very painful death… those who didn't survive the Joining were always on her mind, just like fresh wounds or a tickling at the back of her skull.
Wynne had been right back then, when she said that there wasn't room for love in the life of a Grey Warden. She'd been the only one who'd picked up on her feelings for the bard, who'd caught her glances in her direction and the way she always sought out her company.
And Wynne had quickly destroyed any illusions she might've had. Not that she would've tried anyway. She'd been only 17 when she'd first met Leliana in Lothering. Seventeen and struggling to find her place in life, to regain her footing after Howe's terrible betrayal and the battle at Ostagar.
They would've only ended up hurting each other. And alas, she was pretty sure that Leliana didn't reciprocate her romantic feelings… The bard had always been flirty around her but then, she'd been flirty around Morrigan as well. Leliana had enjoyed the teasing, the reactions she would illicit from her "victims", the "hunt" – but she couldn't have loved her.
It was better this way.
Even though her heart still craved Leliana's presence with all its might...
AN: For all of you who've read this chapter before: I have changed a few things around I wasn't happy with. The essence of the story however will remain the same, so I hope you stick with me, now that Amell turned into Cousland etc.