Ren's Note: Otherwise, this picks up immediately after the Warden's Sacrifice and spins off on the game epilogue where Leliana wishes to be reunited with her Warden once more. Basically an AU of made-up events, but I will try to weave it seamlessly into Leliana's role and conversations for DA2. More action this time, but plenty of soppy romancey blather that I'm a sucker to write for.
This is a direct sequel to DA: Reminiscent, so I would recommend reading that first (if for nothing else than to understand what sort of Warden this Cousland was and the mixture of Warden's journal and Leliana's point-of-view writing structure).
Also, Bioware owns Dragon Age: Origins, Leliana, Schmooples, the Wardens, the whole shebang.
A long time ago, there lived a fair maiden called Alindra.
She had many suitors, but spurned them all, for she did not love them.
One day, Alindra was sitting by her window in her father's castle, singing and dreaming,
when her lovely voice caught the attention of a young soldier. Entranced by her song,
the soldier drew near to Alindra's window. As their eyes met, he fell in love with her, and
she with him.
When Alindra told her father about the man she had chosen, he was furious, for Alindra
was high-born, but her love nothing more than a common soldier. To keep them apart,
he had Alindra imprisoned in the highest tower of his castle and sent her soldier to the
wars. Alas, not a month had passed before news of the soldier's death reached Alindra.
Alone in her tower, Alindra wept for her love and beseeched the gods to deliver her from
this cruel world. So earnest was her plea that the gods themselves were moved. They
gathered Alindra into their arms and lifted her high into the heavens, where she became
a star.
The gods also raised up the soul of Alindra's soldier love and there he dwells, across the
horizon from her. The band of stars between them is a river of Alindra's tears, cried for
her lost love.
They say that when Alindra has cried enough, she will be able to cross the river to be
reunited with her soldier.
A lady-in-waiting knocked tentatively on Leliana's door, uncertain if the woman was up for company. Leliana had not left Arl Eamon's estate in days, opting to remain in her room. She had been studying a book by candlelight, pouring over its passages and secrets, absorbing every detail. When Leliana wasn't reading, she was writing and composing. Lute strings being plucked and a high, sweet soprano echoed through the estate at all hours of the day now.
Meradin was responsible for Leliana's meals and was attempting to balance a tray of cooked rabbit and unleavened bread. She greatly admired the bard and was Leliana's test audience for her new ballad.
The Ballad of the Hero of Ferelden.
The title alone set Meradin's heart to fluttering. She was one of the few remaining house servants who had been lucky enough to see the Hero before he gave his life to stop the Blight.
Though he had an ordinariness about him, the Grey Warden was never more larger than life when he spoke, Meradin recalled fondly. He had a strong, clear tenor and his voice had a quiet authority. He only said was necessary and true, no more and no less.
That voice came wrapped in a warrior. Average height with a superior build, the Warden had spent most of his life in heavy plate mail with sword and shield. His arms were powerful and he was built with strong shoulders to bear heavy plate, sword and shield plus his normal travel burden (and often the burdens of his companions, both real and emotional).
His face was carelessly handsome: sad blue eyes were framed by high cheek bones and an aristocrat's tilted nose and full lips. His reddish-brown hair was short and messy, for it was often tucked under a heavy helm. Large sweeping scars traced their way from his brow to his cheeks, mementos of childhood battles. Auburn stubble graced his strong jaw, collecting more thickly around his mouth and chin.
He was a force to be reckoned with on the battle field as well as off; he was a brilliant strategist packed into a warrior's trim body. His battle plan had saved Denerim from defeat at the hands of the darkspawn. His deeds would echo throughout Thedas for generations to come.
If only Leliana could finish her damn song! She had poured her heart and soul into the piece, taking little sections of his journal on top of their shared experiences to compose a suitable tribute to his valor. King Alistair employed many bards in his court, but Leliana refused to allow those novices to chronicle the Warden's rise. And fall.
Leliana swallowed thickly, her grief always fresh even three months later. Besides, no one knew him better than I.
Leliana nodded at Meradin as she silently strode in and settled the food tray on the table. Meradin leaned over to see the bard scratching a fresh chord into parchment with quill and ink. Nearly there, Leliana thought soberly. He deserves the best.
And then it was done. King Alistair requested Leliana's ballad to played at the winter feast celebrating the ground-breaking of the Warden's memorial tomb in Denerim. A white marble statue bearing the Warden's figure would stand at the center of the city, casting a silent vigil forever over the city.
The dining hall held its breath for the bard's beautiful melody. All eyes that were not captivated by the red-headed woman's fair face and passionate song were looking down at tables, sadly remembering the man himself. The Warden had touched everyone's life, either directly or indirectly, in large and small ways. When he wasn't charging into battle, the Warden worked quietly behind the scenes lending aid to lowly tavern girls and noblemen's sons alike. Those same people were all invited to this tribute, for Alistair wanted everyone to remember how his friend had unified Fereldens from all walks of life.
Leliana's song ended with his final goodbye he had written in a letter to her, pledging himself to her forever. "And all that he was, is, and forever shall be are mine alone." Her tears had started early on in the piece and had only amplified the passion and beauty of her soprano. Her fingers strummed a final chord and then it was over.
Several long seconds passed before the applause began, for her audience needed a moment to recover. Many loud toasts erupted during her standing ovation at the royal court, as everyone raised a tankard "For the Warden!" Leliana nodded quietly and accepted their congratulations. The other bards in attendance requested copies of her sheet music so they could share the tale on their travels. More than a few tipsy men (and women) requested private encores in their suites, which Leliana quickly (but graciously) sidestepped. They offered no comfort she wanted, for her comfort was being borne across Thedas to be laid to final rest at Weisshaupt in a tomb commemorating the four fallen Heroes of the previous Blights. ...They were now five.
No, Leliana only found comfort alone in their bed. She retired early for she was spent from the sheer effort she poured into her performance. But the question of what to do tomorrow concerned her. Leliana had been completely dedicated to this ballad so the prospect of being left alone with her thoughts frightened her. Her grief immediately following the Warden's death had been so sharp as to make her physically ill. With no distractions, it would be all too easy to retreat back into that miasma of hopelessness.
Meradin greeted Leliana at Arl Eamon's entrance, accepting her lute and cloak. "I heard the performance was a tremendous hit, my lady." Leliana nodded thanks but retired quietly to her room. She flopped down and began to sob into her pillow, her pain fresh and raw again. She saw his face in flashes, and during her song had to resist the urge to gasp for many in the audience bore a striking resemblance to her Warden. Exhausted, Leliana fell into a restless sleep...
Surrounded by darkness. There is light, but for some reason I cannot reach it. Its bright beams flit just out reach, taunting me with its warmth and beauty. I am lost in a black fog, but unlike the darkness in my previous vision, I know these shadows are meant for only me. They form a barrier between me and everything I wish to touch.
Suddenly I see him, standing in a distant light. My heart leaps to hold him again and I run to him. But as he reaches for me and our hands touch, he shatters like glass. Pieces of him lay at my feet, but it is a puzzle I do not know the solution to. I want to scoop up the pieces, but each shard is swallowed by the blackness upon my touch. I grow more frantic as he disappears before me again, until only one piece remains.
As I pick up the shard, a dazzling light bursts from it and clears the air around me. I am reborn in the light.
Leliana awoke with a start, and feared she had gone blind when she could not see her surroundings. She started to panic until her eyes finally focused on the last embers of the dying hearth fire and she sighed in relief the Maker had not taken her sight while she slept.
The Maker… Was He again trying tell her something? The last dream of this nature, she had wandered the Lothering Chantry gardens for a time to ponder it. When she was confident of its meaning, the red rose had revealed itself. What did this one mean? Would He again reward her with a sign if she deciphered its intentions?
Obviously the darkness is my despair over my Warden, she sighed. He had left his personal journal to Leliana, trusting her with his heavy Grey Warden secret: that a Warden who slays an Archdemon is destroyed, body and soul. Knowing his soul, his beautiful, kind-hearted soul, had been torn asunder by evil nearly set Leliana to sobbing again.
But there had been a single piece left. Could it be—?
She sat up quickly in her bed, struck with a cautious hope. What if there were a way to undo what the Archdemon had done? Leliana knew that some mages were able to raise dead, but that sort of magic was an abomination to the Maker. Besides, he was practically in the Anderfels so she had no chance to see his body without a serious undertaking even if she dared contemplate such a horror.
What of his soul, though? Isn't that everywhere? This thought gave her pause, as it rankled for being somewhat blasphemous. Souls are in the hands of the Maker and beyond that reeks of pride. But …just maybe… As Leliana's eyes flitted around the room, they came to rest on his journal on the nightstand. She did not remember opening it, but it lay open to a drawing done in the Warden's neat hand and a dried, pressed flower. Both were of Andraste's Grace, her mother's favorite wildflower.
Andraste.
Before she knew what was happening, Leliana was gathering up her things. First the Warden's trusty shield, bearing the crest of Highever. Her leather armor and bow were tucked away in the armoire, as was her travel pack. She tested her bow string, found it suitably pliant and checked the quiver to ensure it had a decent supply of arrows. She ran a grinding stone over her daggers as a precaution, for a dull blade on this journey could mean a swift death. Satisfied with her gear, Leliana scooped up her lute and travel cloak and tucked the Warden's journal into a satchel at her belt.
"My lady!" Meradin nearly shrieked as the door to Leliana's room flew open. She had just returned from a late night tryst with a servant in the Denerim market stalls and was shocked to see anyone still awake. Appraising Leliana's appearance quickly, Meradin cautiously asked, "Is something amiss?"
The servant regarded Leliana with wide-eyed disbelief as the bard murmured cryptically, "The Maker has come to me this night. He and I are to be reunited once more." With that, Leliana, her eyes wet with tears, kissed Meradin's cheek, smiled, and disappeared into the side door to the kitchen without another word. A clattering of tins and the rustle of sacks could be heard as Leliana stuffed food rations into her pack, then a door slammed shut for a final time.
Meradin stood there a moment, unable to comprehend what had just happened. A chirping interrupted her thoughts as she glanced into the now vacant room. A solitary nug sat in the middle of the floor, chewing on the bearskin run, wondering where its master had gone.