From the surface I shall wake
Lady Aeducan has been banished, but swears she will see her love Gorim again. After all, she is a warrior, and will not let go of her rightful life without a fight... Aeducan/Gorim/Alistair
A/N: I have edited this beginning to make it one uniform tense... I blame writing at 5am. As you can see, the story follows events quite closely, but has it's own dialogue. At the moment, it stands alone, but I may continue the story on if people wish to see it...
The love of Stone
She had always refused him her weakness.
Years together, from the moment she was released from the confines of the palace, her own warrior, bequeathed to her as protector and guide. Most noblewomen were given a handmaid, but her father, her dearest father King Endrin knew her strength from a young age. She was Aeducan, of strong blood. She would be a warrior, trained by the pride of the Warrior Caste.
The day they had been introduced, he had expected a frightened child, hiding behind her fathers robes, but instead was greeted by two coal eyes glaring into his, and a rich voice with the hint of laughter proclaiming "I hope you are right in your judgement father. I think his eyes are a little too warm to be a champion." Her cocksure attitude had made him smile, and she noted the way his eyes creased away in to tiny sparkles. She had never seen a smile quite like it. It touched something deep in her, and from that moment she knew that he would be the one to shape her life indefinitely.
Years passed. Years of learning from both sides, of growing together, the proud soldier and the willing princess. Over time, watching a lesson became watching the other, as he noticed her grow, fill out, her lips become plump and red, her pale skin become flushed with a gentle rose hue, her thick hair grow longer and longer, braided in to ceremonial plaits as they had done to her mother. One day she cut them off, leaving her hair shorter than his. When he confronted her, she said she did not wish to be an ornament, but to be practical, a tool of battle, like himself. He smiled, that smile which had captured her, and she kissed him. Slowly, measuredly. Then she left him to her brothers, who had seen the whole thing. He did not care one bit as they beat him in to his place, because he knew then that she was his.
Truly, the years had bound them together. Years of illicit moments, of excitement, of grand fights and grander celebration. It seemed like only that morning he had dressed her in her ceremonial armour, and he had taken her to the Provings. She fought for herself, and for him, secretly, as his champion. The champion of the man she had loved, did love, and would love, despite whatever stood in their way. It seemed like only that morning, yet also seemed like a lifetime ago. In such a short time, and yet an eternity ago, her beloved brother Bhelen, her little, sweet confidant, had betrayed her. It was not as if she had not deserved it. In some ways, she admired how he took advantage of her contempt for their elder brother Trian. They had talked at length of his pride, of his rashness, and yet it was her own pride and rash decisions that had led to Trian's death and her imprisonment. She could have almost congratulated Bhelen on his cunningness, given up just then, were it not for Gorim at her side. He reminded her of her pride, of her place, and of her fathers love. She would not go quietly. She did not show weakness as they dragged her away, calling to her father for the truth.
But now, exhausted, hungry and naked in her cell, stripped of all rank, all identity, all memory of being, she can feel the armour slip away. He looks at her, his usually sparkling eyes dull with tears.
"I have been given liberty to go to the surface. I will go to Denerim..."
"I take it from your tears that it is death for me."
"No... no. The assembly was merciful, brought down by the tears of your father. They... they will banish you to the Deep Roads."
She feels her stomach tighten. Sent to the deep roads to join the Legion... it was death, surely, if only torn out over years... she tries to hold it back.
"My Lady Aeducan, please listen to me-"
"And my father? I hear he ails-"
"My Lady, do not lose hope. There is a way, I believe. Do you recall Duncan?"
"Duncan?"
"The Grey Warden."
Slowly, memories slip back into being. Somewhere amongst the festivities, the celebrations, there had been a tall man, almost a ghost. She had heard of Grey Wardens, of wizened servants of justice, facing their final fight to die in glory.
"I am too young to die in the roads."
"You need not die. Duncan was recruiting for the Grey Wardens. If you can find him, you could get out of here-"
"I have heard tales of the Wardens."
"They're good, hardy warriors. Strong people. They will treasure a woman of your prowess. They are always looking for Dwarves because of our knowledge of Darkspawn-"
"But what good-"
"They were impressed by you. I know it. Who wouldn't be? You're strong, resilient, faithful, beautiful... you just need to catch up with them before they return to the surface. They will take you in. They will help you live."
"Gorim-"
"I believe in you."
And there it was. Somehow more than they had ever shared in the past, more than the nights spent in each others arms, more even than the spark in his eyes when he smiled. That simple sentence tears away the last of her pride, and before she can control herself she feels her body press against the bars holding them apart. "I am so scared, Gorim-"
"My Lady-"
"Hold me, please. One more time. We don't have anything to fear any more. We're casteless," she chokes, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Nothing more to lose. Please."
Seeing her like this almost breaks his resolve. But he knows, as he had known for almost ten years, that she needs him to be steady as the stone. He was her second, the one she could hold on to. And now, as he gently takes her trembling hand and wraps it around his neck he finally truly became her love.
She had almost forgotten how his beard smelled like iron, how soft it is on her skin. She had almost forgotten that his mouth was hot, and tasted like the air of the Deep Roads. She finds herself so enraptured by the sound of his voice that she is no longer listening, and does not hear as he tells her of his plans to leave for some human city. She treasures every sensation, willing herself to store it safely, for who could tell what was to come...
Gradually, her breathing settles, and she peels herself away, standing tall and wiping away any trace of her shameful tears. "I suppose this is it."
"I suppose. Goodbye, My Lady Aeducan."
"Goodbye."
"Goodbye."
There is a silence, at that point. Gorim knows that he has to leave then, or he would never be able to. He calls upon all the might of his ancestors and turns, his feet carrying him away as if by their own accord. He cannot bring himself to look back as he hears her begging to tell the King that she loves him. Their paths are now forked.
She cannot not tell how long she had been wandering these roads. She is starving and delirious from the cold, dragging the sword she had salvaged along the rock, hoping it will attract something, anything, be it Grey Warden or Darkspawn. She had counted herself lucky so far. She had salvaged a longsword, breastplate and gloves from various fallen warriors, though no boots to fit her feet which were aching from the jagged rocks. The first darkspawn she had encountered she had ripped apart with her own hands. The blood lay stale on her skin.
Still she walks. Through the anti-roads, off the beaten track, dragging her blade along the stone. She can barely think straight. Every so often, she knew she was looking over her shoulder for Gorim. In every part of her life he was her guide, her right hand, wielding a sword as well as wielding her will. And now, without him, walking through the never ending roads she could not help but wonder... what if all the strength, all the supposed warrior prowess was just him? Perhaps it was always him. Certainly now, as her feet cut against the hard ground, she does not feel the conquering hero. Perhaps the Grey Wardens had indeed left. Perhaps it was all just wishful thinking. Perhaps his last gift to her was the hope of something more than death.
She trudges on, onto one of the vast roads that ran through the once glorious Dwarva Empire. Yet another road, all the same carvings, all melting in to one... but this one has one difference. On the farthest point of her vision, a glimmer of steel and sword. It is Duncan. She can see it is. In an instant she flooded with the feeling that all that Gorim told her was right. With all the remaining strength in her body she runs to the kindly ghost-figure of Duncan, and on to her new life.
She would get out of here. She would live. She would find him.
