"It's a shame about Alistair," the conversation began. It snapped Eva out of her thoughts and back into the dark, smelly tavern. Her face lingered over the mug of warm ale, helping to drain the weariness from her legs. Journey after journey had left her with exhaustion that was bone deep. She turned her head to glance down the bar at the two men seated at the corner.
"Well everyone should know better than to try to pull one over on old Sam," the dirty blonde man on the left said. He gripped his mug with gnarled, twisted hands. "I'm surprised that boy survived the beating."
The man took a shaky drink.
"It's certainly a shame. How does a man go from hero of the lands to town fool in just a couple years?"
"Well, that's what getting too deep in the drink will do to ya. Takes all your better judgment and dignity," the darker, younger man on the right replied. "He must be running from something fierce. I hear those Grey Wardens are plagued by all sorts of ghosts."
"I guess if I was dreamin' of demons and darkness every night I might try to drown it all out too," the old man said. "Still, though, Crestwood already had its share of fools. So I guess he fits right in."
Eva felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She hadn't heard hide nor hair about Alistair since she raced her horse away from him some two years ago. Crestwood. That was where she had gone at first, too. The deep familiar ache of years worth of wresting with memories made itself known in her stomach. It was happening less and less, but she didn't know if it would ever go away. It'd only been the last several months that she had finally been able to go a full day without thinking of him and of their time together. She didn't even know how long it had been since even hearing anyone utter his name. Part of working herself to the bone, crisscrossing the country side on whatever mercenary errands she could find, was in order to exhaust her brain and her heart enough that they might finally be blessedly silent about the man she had once loved.
She almost spoke up, telling them that they only had the dreams during a blight. The only dreams she'd been having were of a different kind of ghost. She bit her tongue.
"I heard it was that lass," the bartender added. "She broke him, she did."
Eva lowered her face again, and considered getting up to find a table at the back of the tavern, where it was quiet, and darker. The last thing she wanted was to be recognized. But she was also torn between wanting to hear their conversation, and wanting to run far, far away. Out of this town, out of these lands. Away from any place where she might unexpectedly hear his name. That lass. They must have been referring to Morrigan. So they were no longer together.
"Say…." One of the men said. There was a moment of heavy silence. Without looking Eva felt their eyes on her.
"That little biddy down there looks an awful lot like that very lass."
Reluctantly, she met their wide, staring eyes.
"Nope. Not me," she said gruffly.
"Sure it is!" He laughed heartily, surprised. "You are! Imagine that! You're the Hero of Ferelden. I saw your likeness on all the posters."
"Well I'm not that lass," she said. Not the one who broke Alistair.
The men started nudging each other and chuckling.
"What do you think the chances of that are? The very hero right here in our midst," the older man joked. "Hey lassie, what'd you do to that poor boy?"
Fury rose along her spine. She felt herself standing.
"What did I do to him?" she asked, hearing her own voice growing loud and shrill, but unable to rein herself in.
"What did I do to HIM!?" Heart racing, she chugged the last bit of her ale and slammed down the mug. She suddenly found that her legs were propelling her across the room, out the door, down the narrow walkway between the houses and horse carts.
She didn't stop until she reached the edge of town several blocks away, and stood staring out a dry brown field surrounded by a haze of rolling hills and a purplish sky full of stars. Her heart continued to race, and her blood rushed in her ears. She was so angry she could have hit something. What was he telling people? That SHE was the one who had betrayed HIM? She was not the one caught in the arms of a secret lover!
But still, a drunken fool? That was certainly not what she was expecting to hear.
It had been a shock to her, when Morrigan suggested that Alistair give her a child. A child which would house the soul of an Old God, and would ensure that neither of them had to die to slay the archdemon, she had said. It would help Eva and Alistair stay together she had said. She'd promised Alistair that she would disappear, and that he would never know the fate of that child.
It was a hard choice, but they had both known it wasn't really a choice at all. Either they were both going to die, or they were both going to live. Separation was not an option.
So Morrigan and Alistair spent the night together.
And that same night Eva rode her horse so hard she almost broke the poor creature. Feeling terrible for inflicting her anguish onto her loyal steed, she led him to a barn full of hay and there they both slept.
She slept fitfully, with dreams of staring deep into the eyes of the demon that wanted her and her love dead, and their homelands scorched. She woke in the morning with a strange peace, knowing that they had done what they needed to do to prevent that happening.
She had put the night out of her mind. And when Alistair found her that afternoon he held her more tightly than ever before. She remembered his shaky breath in her ear, his face digging into her neck.
And so that was the end of it for a while. Morrigan disappeared as she promised, and they didn't talk about what had happened. It faded into the past, and Eva and Alistair enjoyed an ever deepening bliss that was beyond anything she could have imagined.
Until three years down the road, Morrigan appeared, with a well-mannered little boy at her side, who smiled a familiar smile that fired up a sadness in Eva that she was not prepared for. Three years of pretending that night had never happened destroyed, with one little innocent boy's smile.
But Alistair loved her. He had spent all their time together showing her at every opportunity. So she pushed her unrest down as deep as she could.
And Morrigan was different. During the blight, she had always taken every opportunity to tell Alistair how little she thought of him. It seemed inconceivable that Morrigan could have changed her feelings so dramatically.
But then, Eva knew the magic that was in Alistair's touch. The tenderness and the fire that was in his kisses. Would it have been the same with Morrigan?
She always assumed it would not have been. That it would have been a transaction. A cold, dutiful, impersonal exchange. And that was the most she had ever thought about it.
Morrigan had no more barbs or teasing for Alistair though. She was kinder, softer.
But things were okay. They dined and caught up, as a group. Alistair held Eva's hand tightly under the table, and didn't let her go for even a moment. He seemed to know she needed the contact. She felt guilty for her thoughts, for her… Jealousy. For the little pangs of… something, something powerful that welled up from deep within her when she looked at the cherubic face of the sweet little boy. She couldn't have stopped those feelings no matter how hard she tried.
So she swallowed them.
It was two days later that she came upon Alistair and Morrigan behind the herbalist's hut. Standing among the fragrant lavender, and they were in each other's arms. It was just an embrace, but for the moment that Eva stood in the open watching them, neither pulled away. She was mere steps away and could have been discovered with just a slight flick of their eyes, but they were so entranced they didn't look up or hear her. The seconds she waited for them to end the embrace seemed to last forever. When it didn't end, she took a step back so she was just hidden by the wall of the hut.
"She can never know about last May, then," morrigan had said.
"Of course not. Or about the Crystal Caves," Alistair had responded, striking ice into her heart.
She heard clothing shift. Steps in the grass. And suddenly she was face to face with both of them. She felt frozen in place, her heart cold, her ears unable to hear anything over the buzzing, rushing of her own drumming pulse.
Alistair's face fell and his skin instantly turned ashen. It was the last time she would see that beloved face. Full of shock and fear. He'd been found out. Discovered.
What came next was all a blur. She had turned away from them. Voices behind her, rising and falling. Arguing with each other. A bantering cadence that thrust her memory back to a time of darkspawn and campfires. She remembered her feet falling clumsily over pockmarked land. She remembered the horse, the same horse that she had ridden so hard before. And then wind hitting her warm, wet face so hard it stung. A succession of wine and ale drenched days, sleepwalking through one after the other. Expensive beds in strange towns. Until she ran out of coin and had to camp, or steal a few hours sleep in an empty barn.
Alistair either didn't follow her, or couldn't. She had seen nor heard nothing more of him. Part of her couldn't believe he could do such a thing. He had loved her. They had loved each other. They had clung passionately to each other for more than three years. But she had heard what she heard. There had been meetings between Alistair and Morrigan. Secrets.
The days whirred into weeks and then months, and seasons passed.
Then one morning she awoke, hungover and sore. Her clothes were hanging off of her diminished frame. Birds were singing loudly, piercing through her aching head, and the sun was quickly drying up the layer of dew that coated herself and her campsite. It was the first time in she didn't know how long that her mind seemed… present. She sat up and faced the gently flowing stream that she had camped by. Picking up her things, she followed the stream until she found a calm pool, and then she walked into the water, clothes and all.
The water was frigid, but fresh and clear. She immersed herself, and the coldness helped ease the pounding of her head and pushed out all of her jumbled emotions and thoughts. She floated there in the pond for some time, letting her arms and legs go numb, and she experienced a moment of unexpected peace. A peace she clung to, even when the cold in her limbs turned from numbness to pain. She heard nothing but the rush of the water, saw nothing but the blinding sun above her. Everything inside her was washed away, overtaken.
Until suddenly the water exploded around her, and big arms scooped her up and pulled her out of the pool.
Randall, from the nearby farm, thought she was a floating body, a girl who had drowned.
Despite her protestations, he carried her to his home and had his wife strip her of her wet clothing.
They put her to bed again, stoked a fire in her room, and when she woke she ate hot stew and fresh bread. She gave them a wrong name. They watched her with quiet, suspicious eyes, but they extended unending kindness and generosity. And when she felt strong again a few weeks later she started helping out on the farm. It became clear that they barely had enough on the meager farm to sustain even just the two of them, yet they had shared what they had with her. She spent a few weeks hunting and foraging for supplies, and she refilled their stores. And then she gave them sincere thanks, and bid them farewell.
She looked back at them as they waved, gave a final nod, and rode her horse off into a new life.
She was a new person now. She forgot that she was a Grey Warden. She tried to forget that she had ever been so intertwined with another human being, sharing bodies and souls. She went through the motions every day, helped others, and did what she needed to sustain herself. But a piece of her was gone. This was her new life.
Crestwood. A drunken, town fool. It was inconceivable.
"Now I know what town to avoid", was her first thought. But all the thoughts that followed continued to tug her mind back toward that rickety little town. She knew that town well. She had friends there. But Alistair had been completely unfamiliar with it when they had visited during the blight. He knew no one. Yet there he apparently lived, in disgrace. Alone.
He should have expected that Morrigan would abandon him. Morrigan might have been a formidable ally in matters of business and adventure, but her personal skills certainly left much to be desired. But what could you expect, being raised alone in the woods by a crazy, unpredictable witch of a mother? Eva wondered what had become of the boy. Did he no longer see his father?
Morrigan had been careful not to introduce Alistair to Kieran as his father, but perhaps that had changed once they were free to pursue an open relationship with each other.
The more she thought of what could have occurred between them to leave Alistair where he was now, the more Eva was curious about the truth of the matter. She could speculate all she wanted but she didn't really know. In fact, she had been speculating wildly since the very beginning. She knew she had caught them, and she knew what she had heard them say to each other. That is all I need to know, she had told herself, and it is enough. More than enough. But still she continued to fill in other gaps with her imagination, with what she figured probably happened. But she had no way to really know.
When Eva accepted the job that would take her to Crestwood, she told herself it wasn't for Alistair. It had been two years now since they parted, after all. She had moved on, as much as she thought herself capable. He would have as well, she figured. But what those men at the bar had said… "that lass sure did a number on him."
She was sure that Morrigan had soothed whatever regrets Alistair may have had. But then she apparently left too. Morrigan didn't seem like the relationship-having type. But there Eva was, speculating again. Maybe Morrigan had left Alistair as quickly as she had reappeared. Maybe Morrigan recovered her old disdain for Alistair once they no longer had the thrill of their secret? Their night together hadn't changed who he was at his core after all. He was still the joking, childlike, good-natured man he was before. A man that Morrigan had openly disliked.
No. No more speculating, she admonished herself. Making up these stories to make herself feel justified, vindicated, solved nothing. Her truth was simple. Alistair and Morrigan had a secret relationship and she had caught them. But she didn't know the details. Not really.
She could probably get in and out of the town and complete her mission without even seeing him. The mission was easy: deliver a few letters, and strong arm some coin out of the stablehand's son, who had taken to gambling and not paying his debts. It would be a breeze. In, and out. Maybe she would catch a glimpse of him. Maybe she could get the story from some of her friends. Maybe she would find herself overwhelmed and would race out of town just as she had done before.
She was sure this was a terrible idea, but once the curiosity had gotten hold of her, it had refused to relinquish its grip. Instead it burned and smoldered.
She pointed her horse toward the old Ferelden town, and was on her way.
The journey was shorter than she hoped it would be, even with her attempts to delay the arrival. She had to fight the urge to turn around and abandon her job numerous times. Her stomach buzzed and roiled with nerves and fear, but she forced herself to press on.
It was evening when she finally entered the boundaries of Crestwood. The town had clearly seen some hard times in the last year. The first hut she came to, the one which had housed Old lady Willa for over 20 years, now stood empty. An unfamiliar young lad banged at glowing metals in front of the smith's shop. The spire of the chantry rose tall over the town center, and candles flickered in the windows.
Eva's stomach rumbled as she walked her horse past a house that emitted the scent of freshly baked bread.
She considered her options. Looking about at the weathered huts, she saw no other possibilities for a hot meal other than the local tavern. The market tables were emptied and several unfamiliar people milled about the town center gardens.
Loud patrons spilled out of the tavern, audibly drunk and raucous. The hanging lantern beside the door illuminated the faces of two older gentlemen she didn't recognize. For a town which she had once visited so often, she seemed now only a stranger.
Tying up her horse, she slipped into the tavern.
She felt her heart rate quicken as she glanced around the dark hall. If he was the town drunk, this is where he should be.
But none of the faces were that of her former love. Milicent, the barmaid, had aged well and laughed heartily as she spoke with two travelers dressed in Adventurer gear. Couples nuzzled and men boasted of their exploits and slapped each other's backs.
She exhaled in relief, knowing that she would not be faced with Alistair so soon. She would get some food into her belly, and then decide what to do from there.
Sliding onto a stool at the bar, the bartender, Gilfoy, turned and slid a mug her way. His face slowly transformed as recognition lit up his features.
"Eva!" he said.
She held up a finger to her lips. He dampened his enthusiasm with a nod, understanding her meaning.
"I mean, greetings fair lass. Ale or wine for you tonight?" he asked with a smirk.
"Let us go with wine tonight, please. And a bowl of whatever you got in the kitchens. I've had a long journey." Eva answered.
"Of course. What brings you to our little town in the sticks? It has been quite a while. There are a few folks here who will be very happy to see your face." He said.
Luckily the patrons of the bar were in such good spirits that almost none of them glanced her way.
"I have a few errands to run here. I probably won't stay long. But it's nice to see some familiar faces. Though I'd like to keep my visit as quiet as possible." She said while Gilfoy filled her mug with a deep red wine. She took a drink, grateful for the warmth that spread throughout her empty stomach.
"Well, good luck with that. Let me fetch you a bowl from the kitchens. You should pop back and say hello to Sally if you get a moment."
Eva nodded. She let her hair fall over her face, hoping not to attract the attention of any of the other patrons. She was glad to be wearing her tattered coat, as she fit right in with the townsfolk. Though she knew once a few of them caught a look at her face that the secret would be out. That was always the way of it.
Gilfoy returned from the kitchens with a bowl filled with a generous helping of mutton stew and a chunk of bread. She dug into the meal, eating with a hunger that surprised her. She realized as she raised the spoon to her mouth that her hands were shaking. The long trip plus her ravaged nerves seemed to have eaten up all her energy stores.
Eva cleaned her bowl, and finished a second glass of the wine. She nodded to Gilfoy and left two coins on the counter.
Slipping quietly through the crowd, she found her way to the entrance of the kitchens. There was Sally, as buxom and jovial as Eva remembered, kneading bread on the cluttered counter in the middle of the stone room while singing to herself. A large cauldron bubbled over the fire.
"Hello Sally," Eva said over the woman's shoulder. Startled, Sally jumped and faced her.
"Oh, for the love of the Maker!" Sally exclaimed. Her annoyance turned into a big smile once she saw Eva's face, and Eva was swept up into a warm, strong hug.
"Oh my dear! Look at you, completely wasted away!" she said looking her over. "Keeping to the shadows are you?"
"Yes, a bit. But I can't tell you how nice it is to see that some things are exactly the way I remember them," Eva said, feeling instantly comforted. She had known Sally since she was a girl, but Sally herself never seemed to age.
"Sit, sit, here, please, have a drink," Sally poured them both a goblet of wine from a nearby bottle. "Tell me, what brings you to Crestwood? And why hasn't it brought you here sooner? Are you here to finally fetch Alistair?"
At the mention of his name, Eva's breath caught in her throat. Sally noticed and her face froze.
"Oh dear, sore subject is it?"
Eva didn't know what to say.
"Well, it's a bit of a sore subject for a few folks around town as well. He had himself a good beating not long ago from old Sam. Healed up okay, surprisingly, considering he don't take care of himself. Makes a right nuisance of himself sometimes, too. Other times he just..."
Sally trailed off, her voice getting quiet. "Whatever happened between you two really did a number on the poor boy. He has been beyond help. It's pitiful really."
"What happened between us? You mean Morrigan?" Eva asked, throat suddenly feeling very dry.
"Morrigan?" Sally laughed. "Honey, it's not Morrigan's name that he calls out in his sleep."
They were silent a moment. Eva took a drink of her wine. It was sweet and strong.
"Sleep here often, does he?" Eva asked.
"Unfortunately, yes. He has slept there, " she nodded to a spot on the floor by the back door.
"And over there by the hearth. And in the barn. And the alley. I can't even count how many times Gilfoy and I had to drag him in from the cold so the lad didn't catch his death sleeping in the snow," Sally said. "No sweetie, it's not Morrigan that troubles the lad."
Eva looked down into her goblet, which to her surprise had already gone empty, and Sally quickly moved to refill it. Her fourth cup. Eva's head was swimming, her stomach roiling. She wasn't sure if it was all the wine, or the news. It suddenly occurred to her that he was here, somewhere. Maybe not in the building, but he was close by at this very moment.
"Were they together, after… after I left?"
"I don't know about that. I never saw her," Sally said.
That figured. He probably came here after. Actually, she wasn't sure what would bring him here.
"Do you know why he came to Crestwood to begin with?"
"No. He was already deep in the drink by the time he made it here, about… oh, a year or so ago I guess. Right at the end of the winter. No one even recognized him," Sally said. "He was on foot, by himself. Drunk as a skunk right from the start."
Eva nodded, wondering what he had been doing. The lands around the town were especially harsh during the winter, with little game to hunt, or places to shelter. If he had made it here on foot, that would have been one difficult journey that time of year.
"You look tired," Sally said. "Lets talk more in the morning, when you're more rested."
Sally pulled a key out of her apron and offered it to Eva.
"The upstairs room is free. Take it, and get a good night's sleep. Though you might want to take your wine out to the hall to finish it first. There will be a familiar face in the back corner in his usual spot, though you may have to roll him over to see it," Sally said, then she stood and walked back over to her ball of dough and gave it a slap.
"Be kind to him, dear. He needs it. Maker knows no one else around here is."
Eva felt like she was sleepwalking as she slowly stood, took her glass and reentered the tavern hall. It was less full now, and her eyes were able to see into the dark corners of the back.
Gilfoy met her eyes and nodded toward a slumped over figure barely visible in the darkest part of the hall.
He had been there the whole time, while she ate. While she drank her wine.
She walked silently past the intoxicated stragglers, feeling lightheaded and a little drunk herself.
The noise of the room faded into nothing as she took the last few steps toward the sleeping figure. He was face down on the table arms folded around his head. The familiar gold of his hair was shaggy and unkempt.
Silently, she sat at his table, putting herself right across from him.
His hands lay just inches away. There was dirt caked in his ragged fingernails, and dried blood smeared on the sleeve of his tunic. His shoulders rose and fell with his breath. She was shocked at how sharp and bony they were. Eva felt a sudden surge of emotion. The ache in her stomach intensified, making her whole body feel as heavy as lead. Her eyes stung as tears threatened to emerge. Tears of anger, of emotions long suppressed.
Suddenly Alistair's head shot up and he looked right at her.
"There you are demon. Are you finally going to take me?" he asked. His bloodshot eyes were wet and sunken into purple sockets. His face was pale, gaunt. His cheekbones stood out sharply. Shocked, Eva didn't answer.
"Heelllooo?" he asked mockingly. "My you've done a good job this time, demon. If fact, you keep up those appearances and you'll never get rid of me."
His voice cracked.
"Haha!" he laughed, delirious, "You have been haunting me all this time, but now it is my turn to haunt you!" he said as his head fell back down onto the table. It landed with a thunk. "You'll never get rid of me." He mumbled into the wood.
"Alistair," Eva said. She placed a shaky hand on his arm. It was hot, as though he was feverish.
His head lolled back upright. He looked down at Eva's hand on his arm and just stared at it.
"Alistair?" Eva said again, her voice a whisper, shaking with the effort of holding back a sob.
"No, no, no. Nevermind. I don't want this. Go away," he said, pulling his arm out of her reach, his voice sounding anguished and far away.
"No no no no no no no," he groaned sadly, laying his forehead back onto the table as he rolled his head from side to side.
All of the anger Eva had been holding onto was drained out of her.
This man was broken. This man she had loved so intensely, this man who held her, killed for her, gave himself to her. Betrayed her.
Suddenly she was afraid. She realized she had never given him a chance to explain. But her reaction… she almost had no choice in it. It just happened. She saw what she saw, she heard what she heard, and her feet, her heart carried her away. She had been broken too. This had been her, just several months ago.
She drank down the last of her wine and stood on legs of jelly. Taking several clumsy steps she walked around the table and sat herself beside him. She felt consumed by an unexpected tenderness. For the whole journey she had imagined herself roaring up to him and unleashing her fury. Or admonishing him for his stupidity. This deep compassion she was feeling instead, was not in any way how she thought she would be reacting.
This man, this weak, sick, broken looking man had once been so strong. He had made her laugh until her stomach and cheeks hurt. And he had taken her to heights of pleasure she never imagined were possible. He had held onto her like he was falling off the earth and she was the only thing that was anchoring him. The memories of their time, their three years flooded her mind, and hot tears poured unbidden from her eyes. She had spent the past year figuring the aching she felt was just permanent. She had never loved like that before, and never been hurt like that before. It was all brand new to her, and she had begun to assume that the hurt from it was just going to continue along with her until the end of her days. That pain brought itself up to the surface as she sat there. She felt both lost in her cavernous mind and memories, and in shock from the real, physical reminder that was slumped over before her.
Thanks to the help of the ale on the preoccupied patrons, the two of them went unnoticed in their dark corner. And thanks to her wine in her own belly, she no longer cared that she was sitting in a public hall crying.
He continued shaking his head as his face lay upon the table. She could hear him still whispering, "no no no no no no."
Eva didn't know what to do now that she was beside him, and overcome with such unexpected emotions. She feared any words she dare speak would come out a sob or a hiccup. She feared laying her hand upon him again, as she might get lost under the surge of old affections. She struggled to determine whether she should try to hold onto her anger. But all it took was conjuring the vision of Alistair and Morrigan in their hidden embrace to stiffen her back again. She also feared she wasn't strong enough for this yet. That this was too soon. She had been wronged, hadn't she? She should be angry. She always hated it when women were so quick to forgive their philandering partners.
But this man beside her, this shell of a man. He had paid for it. He had suffered. He was still suffering.
"Eva," he whispered at last, eyes closed, and he fell silent and still.
She sat there, silently. Looking at the grains of wood in the table, what little of it she could see in the low light. This was his spot, Sally had said. This was where he spent many a night, in the same state that he was in now. What a sad life.
Again his head came up and stared into the space before him where Eva had just been sitting.
Slowly he turned his head to look at her now beside him.
"Alistair," Eva said again, hot tears streaming anew.
He looked for a long moment into her face, like he was trying to steady himself amidst a rocking ship. A spark of lucid recognition flickered in the haze of his amber eyes.
"Eva," he whispered again, his voice shaking.
Eva wiped her face, and tried to compose herself. She took some breaths to stifle the weeping. Alistair's eyes never left her, but they seemed so glazed, she didn't know what he could have been thinking. Or feeling. He had seemed utterly delirious the moment before, but he seemed to be grasping for reality now.
"This can't be real," he said. "The desire demon has visited me in my dreams, but she has never seemed so…. You." he said.
"Have I died?" he asked, breaking his gaze and looking around the room. It was now mostly empty. Gilfoy and Sally had made quick work of clearing out the hall. Now they stood together behind the bar, casting glances in their direction. Milicent was ushering out the last few resisting bodies.
Alistair looked back at Eva and suddenly he broke. His whole body crumpled forward into a sob, with a quiet wail that sounded sadder than anything Eva had ever heard before.
She put her hand on his arm, and then moved up to his shoulder. And his back. And like a magnet her body moved toward him, needing to comfort him. Needing to soothe the pain she heard cracking in his voice, that was striking at the depths of her soul. Alistair smelled of mud and smoke, and being so close now she saw grime on his scalp, in his ears. He had completely stopped caring for himself. She wondered when the last time was that he had bathed. Or been sober. Or been held.
The last of the patrons were gone now. Sally and Gilfoy nodded at her as they slipped into the kitchens, leaving Eva and Alistair alone in the empty tavern hall.
Alistair's sobs shook his body, and his wails grew louder.
"Alistair, listen to me. We are going to get up okay? We are going to clean you up a bit," Eva said, suddenly feeling a purpose. She would find a place to wash away the grime, and take him up to the room Sally gave her for the night and let him sleep somewhere warm and comfortable. And she would figure out her next steps from there.
Those next steps were nerve-wracking and elusive. Obviously there was no going back to the way things were. Alistair probably required a bit of recovery. And the fact of the betrayal, and all the pain and heartbreak she herself had suffered wasn't just going to disappear either.
Eva pulled at his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. Pushing her body into his she hoisted him into an upright position. She was shocked at how thin he was, and how easy it was to support his weight. His body continued to shake and quiver as she pulled him from the stool and urged him into taking a few steps. As they approached the door to the outside, she felt his eyes on her once again.
Looking up into his thin and weary face was difficult. He looked so different, yet was still her Alistair underneath the grime and drunkenness. He still had the long, noble nose and strong chin. The deepset eyes that used to always seem to be smiling, were now just purple pits of bottomless despair.
Their eyes remained locked as they made their way to the door. Eva could count each one of Alistair's ribs through his tunic. Step by step they lumbered out of the tavern and into the moonlit night. Though it had been years since she last visited Crestwood, she knew exactly where she was going. Silently, under the silver moon, she walked Alistair through the whispering fields and to a pool in the nearby stream, not unlike that one from which she herself had been rescued.
Once at the edge of the still pool, she let Alistair rest on his own weight and pulled herself out from under his arm.
They were both wordless, watching each other as though in a dream.
Eva began pulling gently at Alistair's clothes, removing the tattered, smelly rags from his thin frame. She stripped him completely, then removed her own clothes down to her undergarments. Thankfully it was close to Summer solstice and the breeze held a comforting warmth.
Eva picked up Alistair's hand, which clasped hers back with a fervor that seemed more than what his diminished limbs should be capable, and she led him down into the still, cool pool. He obeyed silently, stepped where she pointed and stopped once they reached the center of the chest deep water.
Alistair's back and chest were covered in several new scars that she didn't remember. Including one just below his shoulder which had obviously gone untreated. The ridge of disturbed flesh was pink and showed where a gash had been opened and left to harden without proper care. It was a wonder he had not gotten a serious infection.
Eva cupped handfuls of water and dropped them over his shoulders and neck. She rubbed away the grime and threaded her fingers through his matted hair. Working her way around to face him, she saw that he had his eyes closed. She herself was still trying to reconcile the events of the last hour in her mind. She had only just arrived in town, and this was the last thing she thought she'd be doing, especially so quickly.
Tentatively, she brought up a hand to touch a new scar under his eye, and to drip water onto his dirty face. She dropped handfuls on his head, and gently pulled him down so that he was completely submerged except for his face. Only then did his eyes open, but still he did not speak. She cradled his head as she cleaned off his scalp, his ears. His lip had a partially healed cut. He closed his eyes again and let her have her way.
She wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but was afraid to break the spell. She also didn't know how coherent he was behind those foggy eyes. She was also afraid that her own anger and feelings of betrayal would bubble back up. She pressed them down. She didn't want to think about that now.
His body had changed so, but she still recognized it. He had lost a bit of muscle mass and gained many new wounds.
When she felt she had done as good a job as could be done, she stood before him and looked at his gaunt face. He looked the picture of absolute suffering. How could her Alistair had let himself degrade to such a degree? What would have happened if she had not come? What may still happen? A night of care and a bath may not wash away the last two year's worth of bad habits. She still had no idea who she was going to encounter in the morning, once the alcohol was out of his system and the cold light of day shone upon them both.
Eva noticed that they had both begun to shiver.
Pulling him by the hand out of the water, she realized she did not want to put his tattered rags back onto his newly cleaned body, but there was nothing else there for him to wear.
"Sit here. I am just going to wash your clothes. You'll have to wear them back wet, but we'll figure something out once we get to the room."
Alistair did as he was told, and Eva took his clothes to the water for a scrub.
When she was finished, she dressed him in the wet rags, and they remained wordless for the short, slow walk back to the Inn.
Her eyes opened to the face of a ghost. Pale and wan, but with burning amber eyes, Alistair was watching her from only feet away as she slept on the Inn's cot in the upstairs room.
"Are you real?" Alistair asked, as he reached a hand forward to caress her cheek. His touch was soft and light, but his hand was quivering.
"You feel real," he said.
Eva sat up in the bed.
Alistair was still shirtless, the sun through window illuminating the sad state of his damaged skin. There was still the broad frame with strong shoulders, the large, capable looking hands, the long, graceful neck and strong jaw. But the scars and withered muscles were painful to look at. He held himself as though he were unbearably heavy, the weariness in his bones visible.
"It is me. I am here. I came on a job, and I heard… Well I heard that you were not doing well," she said, wiping the sleep out of her eyes.
"You left me," Alistair said looking up with red rimmed eyes. "What you saw that day… Morrigan… it was not right. I never got to apologize. I wanted so badly to apologize."
Almost instantly Eva felt her defenses go up. She sat up stiffly, and braced herself for whatever else he had to say.
"Eva. It is true that there were secrets. That things between Morrigan and I changed after that night… we had an experience together that affected both of us, whether we wanted it to or not. Not the sex."
She winced at the word.
"That was… nothing."
He paused and took a shaky breath. "It was nothing compared to what you and I had," his voice was damaged, raspy. "But when you make a child, and that child comes into the world…. Things just change. I hated the thought of him not having a father. Of not knowing where he was, how he was doing. The way Morrigan talked when she proposed the idea it seemed that, the fate of that child could have been… very bad. I hated that. I needed to know," he said.
"But I loved you. I always loved you. I never loved her. It wasn't like we were…" Alistair stopped to cough, a deep rasping cough.
"I'm sorry. When we met those times, it was just to talk. That's all it ever was. To talk about Kieran. We never…" Alistair trailed off. He lowered his head down and rested it on the bed.
"I lied to you. I did. I asked her to keep it quiet. I don't know why I did that," he said. "I never deserved you. I deserve you even less now. I am…" he banged his head on the wooden bedframe.
"I am pathetic. I am a fool. I have been waiting for the Maker to take me."
Eva lowered a hand to his hair, which felt in need of another wash. A proper bath, with soap.
"But I am still here. Why am I still here!?" Alistair cried, croaking. "I never wanted to you see me like this!"
Without thinking, Eva climbed down out of her bed and to Alistair's side. Wrapping her arms around him, she felt him melt into her, all bones and angles. He coughed some more and the spasm wracked his entire body.
His arms encircled her and he held her so tight she could barely catch a breath. The ferocity she felt in herself as she clung back to him almost frightened her. It couldn't be this easy. Letting him back in after how much she had been hurt. After how much they had both been hurt. But the things he had said. How could anyone just give up a child like that? She felt like she was beginning to understand. A little bit. Understanding didn't necessarily help the aching in her heart.
It couldn't have been easy to be the one who felt like they ruined the love of their life. Now she was feeling that way herself. What if she hadn't run? What if she had stayed, and heard them out? What would Morrigan have had to say?
But still, it was difficult to imagine things going any differently than they had. Her fleeing the way she did just happened. She didn't even know if she could have stopped it.
But she should have tried. That doesn't absolve him of responsibility too, but she should have tried not to let everything fall apart. She pushed that picture out of her mind, of them standing there so absorbed in each other they didn't even see her as she stood just feet away. The picture still affected her, still brought up so many questions. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind.
"You can't live like this anymore Alistair. "
"I shouldn't be living like anything at all. I should be dead. I want to be dead. "
"No." Eva whispered, she pulled him to her again, as tightly as she could. "No," she said firmly. She felt the tears spilling down her cheeks. She felt the sobs coming up from that well of pain in her gut shake her core, drain her, erupting into an uncontrollable release. The pain had been waiting for so long to come up and out. Two years. Could that be all it was? It felt like it had been much longer.
Alistair clung to her as he cried silently, his whole body shaking, and Eva's tears fell onto his head, wetting his hair. When the emotional release was over, Alistair slept. Eva stood and got dressed. The sun was part way up the sky now, and the sounds of movement echoed up from below. Looking at Alistair's clothes, the rags that she had washed the night before, she saw just how bad of shape they were in. She wiped her face and took a few deep breaths, then pulled a blanket up over Alistair and let herself out the door quietly.
Gilfoy bid her a warm good morning.
"Gilfoy, I know this is a strange question, but do you happen to have an extra pair of clothes? Men's clothes? I can pay you. Would five coin cover it?" She pulled out the coins and Gilfoy nodded.
"Sure thing lassie. Wait here," he said and strode down the hall under the staircase.
"Was everything okay last night sweetheart?" Sally asked, thrusting a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread and cheese into Eva's hand.
"Yes, Sally, thank you."
"And Alistair?" She asked gently.
"He is upstairs. I am getting him some new clothes, and I think I am going to take him away from a while. I am hoping a change of scenery might help… things," Eva said. She didn't even realize that was her plan until she said it.
"You're probably right about that."
"When do you need the room back?" Eva asked.
"Oh don't worry about it hon. You can have it another night if you need it. We have three other boarders checking out today so we should have plenty of space."
Gilfoy returned with a stack of clean clothes.
"We might. Thank you so much."
Eva climbed the stairs back up to the room.
Alistair was curled up on the floor, still sleeping. Setting down the clothes, she gently shook him awake.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up to look at her.
"I still can't believe I am not dreaming," he said quietly. Eva put the bowl in his hands.
"Last night, at the pool. That was real?"
She nodded.
"Eat," she told him, as she tore off a chunk of bread and began chewing on it herself.
"Alistair, I know what you're going through. I did the same thing. I came out of it. It's time for you to come out of it too," Alistair looked up at her with quiet eyes. He nodded.
"I'll help you. I…" she started. "I'm not even sure what I was planning when I got here. I wasn't sure I even wanted to see you. But then I did. And here we are. Things are… strange," she said. "Obviously they can't just go back to the way they used to be. We are different people now."
She paused.
"I have some business to attend to in town, and then I am leaving." She said. He stopped chewing and looked down into the bowl.
"You are going to come with me," she said quietly. "I don't really know what my plan is. I don't know where we'll go, or what we'll do. But I can't leave you here like this."
She tore off another chunk of the bread, and held it out to him. He reached up to take it, and instead covered her hand with his own. It was warm and dry. Eva liked feeling it there. She opened her fingers to drop the bread on the floor, and turned her own hand up to clasp his.
His eyes met hers again.
"Will you come with me?" she asked him. Again, he nodded.
"Of course I will. It's all I have ever wanted," he croaked.
"Okay. Stay here. Eat. There are new clothes on the chair over there. I am going to throw out those rags. Sleep if you need. We have this room for another night and I am thinking we should stay. I am going to go take care of my business, but I will be back as soon as possible," she said.
He nodded again. She shook her head at nothing other than her own confusing thoughts. Everything she was saying and doing was so unexpected, and their future so uncertain. She fought the urge to reach out and caress his face. The last two years she fought every memory she had of him. She battled with his image, which constantly forced itself into her thoughts, disrupting her day, destroying her. And now he was here in the flesh, and the sight of him was painful. Especially looking the way he did. Her brain seemed to want to reject the image just out of pure habit. She sat there for a moment, trying to soothe her own internal battle. She wanted to hold him again. She wanted to slap him and yell at him and stomp away. She wanted to ask him a million questions.
Why didn't he follow her? If all he and Morrigan did was talk to each other, why didn't he tell her about it? Didn't he trust her? Hadn't they told each other everything? She thought that perhaps that was why she reacted the way that she did; because it must have been bad if he was hiding it from her. If there was nothing to worry about, if it was really all so innocent, why was it a big secret? Did he really think she wouldn't understand? Wasn't what they had worth taking the chance? How could he have let all this happen!?
Her mind was racing. The more she thought, the more confused she got, and the more she felt the anger welling back up where it was before. She dropped his hand and stood to go.
"I'll be back soon," she said and looked down at him. He didn't move. Just kept chewing. But she saw him look up at her with sad, damaged eyes as the door closed.
She stood outside the door for a moment and took another deep, shaky breath. She had no idea what she was doing. There was a very good chance she would probably regret whatever it was that was going to happen. But, she thought, she would probably also regret not doing anything.
When Eva returned from delivering her letters, and getting the coin from the stablehand, who had put up quite a fuss, Alistair was lying asleep in bed in his new clothes. Even laying down she could tell that they hung off him.
At first Eva climbed in and laid down behind him. She wanted to put her arms around him, wanted to pull herself close and rest her face into the hollow between his shoulder blades the way she used to.
Instead she climbed out of the bed and went to the nest on the floor where Alistair had slept the night before. She had gained some understanding that had softened her anger a bit, but still felt cautious. Still had so many unanswered questions.
They awoke when the sun started going down. Alistair jumped awake and the bed creaked so violently that it startled Eva out of her own sleep. Her head throbbed, as it always did when she slept too much. She was hungry, her stomach growling.
"I need a drink," Alistair said. His hands were shaking. "I'm going to get sick if I don't get something. I already feel it starting."
"Okay, okay," Eva said, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She had known men who had that problem before. You couldn't just cut them off cold from something their body was used to doing every day.
Eva stood.
"Do you want to come downstairs?" she asked him.
"Maybe we could get something to go? Take a walk? Get some air? It'd be nice to stretch my legs," he said.
"Of course," she answered.
The sky was still pink when they slipped out the back door with a cask of wine and a couple glasses.
"Follow me, I want to show you something," Alistair said.
They walked along the outskirts of the town, away from the prying eyes of the townspeople, and back toward the stream that had cleansed them both the night before. They followed the stream up a hill through some rocky escarpments and to a little overlook. It was flat, and gave them a view of the whole valley, including the pool, the growing hills in the distance and the dim lights of the town.
"I've spent a lot of time here," he said.
"I can see why. It's beautiful."
"Do you believe me Eva?" he asked.
She knew what he was referring to, even though they had mentioned nothing about it since that morning.
"If it was so innocent, why keep it a secret?" she asked. "If you were meeting just to talk, you could have told me. You SHOULD have told me. That's what made it look so bad. And if there were times I didn't know about, that meant you were sneaking away. Lying to me about where you were going. You had to know how that looked."
His head hung heavy, and she head a heavy breath rattle in his chest.
"You're right. Of course you're right, I know," Alistair took a drink of his wine. "It was to see Kieran. I wasn't supposed to see him. I was never supposed to know anything about him. I wasn't sure how you would react to that. "
"You didn't give me a chance, Alistair. I can't be with someone that I can't trust to be honest."
"I know. It was the biggest mistake of my life."
"I wish I had stayed and talked to you about it, but… I don't know that it would have helped. Maybe after some time it would have. I don't know. I should have stayed."
Eva refilled their wine, and took a drink. The situation was so emotionally charged, she needed the calming effect of the wine to soothe her frazzled nerves.
"So what are we going to do?"
"We're going to get you a change of scenery, and figure things out as we go," Eva said. "I'm sorry, I don't know much more than that. I didn't expect this. At all."
She took a deep, shaky breath and continued, "I am going to try not to be angry, and you are going to try not to wallow in self-pity." With that Alistair laughed sadly. It was more of a croak.
"Deal. But I'll warn you," Alistair said, "I am pretty pitiful."
"Oh I know that. Look at that hair," Eva said.
"Yes, something must be done about this. I think this is the real reason I have been drunk for a solid year. There are no decent hair dressers for miles." Alistair said in his raspy voice. He laughed sadly, looking down. "I'm joking of course," he whispered. Listening to him try to make a joke was almost sadder than listening to him apologize.
"I think once it's been removed we need to mount it on a wall somewhere," Eva said, trying to shrug off the patina of heaviness that coated the moment.
"Oh I don't know about that. I'd hate to infect some poor unsuspecting admirer with bugs completely brand new to science. There'd be no treatment."
"Well that settles it then, it should be donated to science. For the good of mankind," Eva said.
Their old banter had come back to them so easily despite all they had been through, together and separately, but even as they continued it, it felt wrong. It just couldn't be that easy.
No, they had a lot that needed to be repaired.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry, every day, every second since the moment it happened. I was sorry while I was doing it. You are so right. I should have trusted you. I should have talked to you."
Eva felt the ice around her heart melt some more. She could hear the regret in his voice and in his words. What man would still be in such a state two years after a breakup if he hadn't truly loved the one he lost? But she realized that whether or not he loved her was never really in question. It was whether or not he also loved Morrigan. If he had, if Morrigan loved him back, why wasn't she here now? She sighed. Nothing was as she thought it was. Not at all.
"I am sorry I didn't stay. That I didn't hear you out," she said, feeling more and more like the bad guy. She felt like all the anger she had held onto was pointless and stupid, and that this was all her fault. She reached out for his hand and took it into her own.
"I am not the man I used to be, Eva. I am a man you should be embarrassed to be seen with. I am king fool, in a town full of fools." he said. Then laughed sadly again, "I guess I got to be a king after all."
"I don't care about that," said Eva.
"If you had been here, if you had seen me, you would care. You would be appalled. I am a disgrace here," he continued.
"Hush Alistair," Eva said. "From today forward, things are going to be different. We are going to put that behind you. No wallowing, remember?"
"But wallowing has become my most frequented past time now. I don't know if I can just give it up that easily." he said. "Like this" he nodded to his wine. "It's automatic."
"Well, being angry has been mine. So I guess we both have our work cut out for us." Eva said, and she squeezed his hand.
Feeling spurred on by the wine, by the little bit of laughter they had shared, she scooted closer to Alistair. She could hear his breathing, feel the warmth that emanated from his breath and body. She felt the pull to him the way she used to, that magnetic charge that crackled with electricity and drew her in almost involuntarily. But her eyes still could not adjust to the difference in how he looked, compared to how she remembered him. Even though all she could see was his silhouette, it was still so markedly changed. If he was trying to fade into nothingness, he had almost accomplished it. It made her ache to see him look so ill. But his soul was there. His eyes, his frame. She needed to restore him, somehow. It would take some time, but it was something that must be done.
The sky was dark now, and the stars were scattered in a bright, twinkling carpet before them.
Eva drew a dagger and stood behind him.
"Whoa there," he said.
"Might as well take care of this animal on your head," Eva told him. "No time like the present."
She put her hand in his hair and quickly found a knotted lock. She gently cut it off and dropped it at her feet. Alistair's neck relaxed and he tilted his head to look up into the sky.
She took a moment to savor where they were, following Alistair's gaze up into the heavens. It was truly a beautiful vista they beheld, even when under cloak of darkness.
In just a matter of a few days, of hours, her life was so unexpectedly different. There was her Alistair, right there with her. She could reach out and touch him. She felt no anger or resentment at all in that moment. They had said their apologies. Things were not what she expected. The wine made her feel strong and confident. Made her feel unafraid to begin to open her heart again, even if just for now.
Gingerly, she made her way through Alistair's matted hair, doing her best to cut it at the same spot in order to leave an even length behind.
Without meaning to, she giggled.
"What?" Alistair asked.
"Well, maybe doing this while sober, and with light to see by would have been a better idea after all."
"My hair is the least of my worries right now," he said softly.
"What are your worries?" she asked.
He was silent, thinking.
"There are so many," he said. "I don't know where to begin."
"The sad state of me, for starters. Now that I am a bit more coherent, I am feeling aches and pains everywhere." He said. "and also, you know, where are we going to go? What are we going to do? How are you going to be able to stand me? I barely know who I am anymore."
"Let me worry about most of that," Eva said. "You definitely need some time to heal. To rest and regain your strength."
She sheared off a few more mats, and then eyed his head for any uneven areas. It was almost impossible to see with the lack of light, so she sheathed her dagger and lowered herself back to the ground at Alistair's side.
"We will start out tomorrow. I still have Zuni, my horse. We will need to return to South Reach to pay my commissioner out. Then I think we need to find somewhere to just be for a while. Maybe somewhere that no one knows our names. We can just live quietly for some time. Get a lot of rest. Put some weight back on you. Get to know each other again. It's not just physical wounds that need mending," she said.
She picked up his hand again. She wanted to scoot in closer, to rest her head on his shoulder and nuzzle in the way she used to. It amazed her how quickly the two years apart was fading into the recesses of her memory. Thanks to the wine, she was sure. She didn't know if it would all stay in the recesses, but she wanted it to, at least for tonight.
She laced her fingers in between his and held on tightly. His head turned and she could see that he was watching her. The moon was rising above the hills, shining a pale silver light over the land. She could see his new scars clearer than ever now that the moonlight was encasing them in deep shadows.
Tentatively, she raised her hand to his face and started tracing the lines of the scars. She was almost glad he had been drunk. Hopefully that meant he hadn't felt most them.
"Maker's breath," he whispered, looking at her. "How are you more beautiful than I remember?"
"It must be a trick of the moon," she answered.
"No," he said decidedly, leaving no room for argument. And then he was touching her face too.
"Please don't leave me again," he said softly. "I don't care if you are a ghost, or a demon, or some cruel trick of my mind. Just stay with me."
Eva gave into her impulse and scooted in closer still. She felt the warmth of his body spreading across her as she leaned into him and brought one arm up his bony back.
She cupped his face in her other hand, caressing his cheek with her thumb, and then ran a finger along his jaw, which was still strong and stunning, despite the gauntness and sunken in cheeks.
"I need your help," he said, "with life. Living. Walking. Breathing. All of it."
Eva nodded.
"I can't do it without you. I don't want to," he said as his fingers gently slid down tendrils of her hair that hung in front of her ears. The sensation caused the hair on her neck and arms to stand on end.
Eva's face came forward of its own accord, as if drawn by some invisible tether. She rested her forehead on his shoulder while his fingers moved to trace a slow line down her neck, causing her to shiver and her breathing to go ragged. She hadn't been touched like that since the last time she was with him.
A torrent of longing was unleashed in her. She slid a hand over to his chest, and let it rest over his racing heart.
"Promise me," he said, pulling his arm out to wrap around her. "Please. Even if it's a lie, I don't care. I just need to believe that you won't leave me again." She pulled him closer to her and nuzzled her face into his neck, raising her lips to his ear. Her other hand remained on his heart.
"I promise Alistair."
He exhaled a long breath, and Eva felt a warm tear drop onto her cheek. She didn't know if it was hers or his.
"And I promise I won't do anything that stupid ever again." he whispered, making them both laugh softly.
Eva took her hand off his heart and trailed it up, over his protruding collarbones. Then up his neck, back to the strong line of his jaw. She raised her face and pulled him down toward her, but he needed little prodding.
They both inhaled a shaky breath as their lips touched again, for the first time in two years. Warm and soft, she drank him in. His scent, so familiar and so beloved, filled her. She finally felt the full force of how she had missed him. She had denied it, pushed it away, drowned it out, raged at it for so long, but now it rushed through her with a frightening intensity. Both of his arms were around her, holding her, pulling her closer, as though he was trying to pull her inside of himself. She was completely absorbed, every nerve of her body focused on the joining of their lips, the moving together of their mouths. His lips were as pillowy and luscious as she remembered, one of his few features that seemed to resist withering.
When they finally pulled apart he was breathing heavily. His body was so much thinner than she remembered. His strength greatly diminished. If he was feeling the same rush that she was then she could see how he might be drained.
But she would fix all that. They would ride off together tomorrow, and she would help him regain his strength. Together they would mend all the parts that had been broken and restore all that had been lost.
Still wrapped in each other's arms, they lay down fully in the grass.
Alistair watched her face intently, as though he was afraid to look away. They settled into each other, limbs intertwined and hearts pounding only millimeters apart.
She would not overwhelm Alistair with her desire for him just now, she decided. She feared she would hurt him. She had no doubt he was feeling it too, but his health was still very poor. Just less than 24 hours ago he was busy wasting away, trying his hardest to make himself fade into oblivion.
"Rest my love," she told him. "I'm here." He slid his face in close and pressed his forehead to hers. She put her hand back over his heart and closed her eyes.