ARCANUM - littlefishh
Chapter One: The Flying
It was a lovely morning in Denerim when Alistair woke—the birds were singing, the wind was sweeping lazily through the silk drapery over the windows, and he was alone.
Hmm.
Jenna did that to him sometimes. The nightmares and visions from the taint had stopped with the death of the archdemon, only to be replaced by dreams of the castle being stormed by invading qunari or wandering thoughts from the Fade; she took to pacing for a spell before she decided to simply begin her day early, leaving Alistair to wake alone and leave the bedchambers with ruffled hair, unsmoothed by her gentle touch.
He dressed himself lazily before kicking open the bedroom door to let the servants in to clean. He wandered through the kitchens and took a handful of biscuits and an apple for breakfast before alighting the stairs to the grand hall where the ministers idled when not employed with tasks. Jenna's handmaidens—what few there were—sometimes orbited the floor to flirt with the nobles at court. One such handmaiden, a particularly quiet one, stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at him silently.
"Good morning, Kaira," he said brightly. "Have you seen Jenna this morning?"
"Was she not with you when you woke?" Kaira asked, lowering her eyes. "There is a message waiting for her at the gate, your Majesty."
"Message? From who?"
Kaira curtsied. "Antivan emissaries. I asked if they would like to speak to you or one of your consuls, but they said they would only speak with Queen Jenna directly."
This was truly puzzling. And suspicious. "And no one knows where she is?"
Again, a curtsy. "I have sent word to your companions in Denerim, as well as to the armorer and stable. They should be reporting soon—"
The doors to the main hall flew apart as a fully-armed qunari warrior burst into the chamber, closely flanked by a hulking stone golem. The usual.
His eyes had an unnatural molten look to them, one Alistair remembered fondly, as they usually meant the current battle would be over in short order from there. Now, to have those eyes turned upon him, he wasn't quite sure he liked them that much.
"Where is the High Lady?" His voice was grim and grinding, like sand pouring between rocks.
"Oh, um, hello Sten, we were just—"
Alistair suddenly noted that the front of his shirt was in the qunari's fists. The guards in the room had surrounded them, pikes pointed at the angry warrior, who narrowed his eyes. "If you have done something to the kadan…"
"Sten, I have no idea where she is—"
"Then we must find her!" He released Alistair roughly, and he smoothed his shirt, unhappy. The guards backed away cautiously, eye on the king in case Alistair felt like reacting. He usually never did.
"Relax, Sten, please—"
"Messengers from Antiva? The Queen gone? Her husband not worried?" His eyes cooled mildly, but he was still angry. "Something has happened, vehl."
"I'm getting onto that, in varying degrees of surprise," Alistair grunted. "And I am worried, I just don't know what I should be worried about."
A metallic snarl sounded from outside of the hallway, followed by a maternal voice, "Shale, you really are too big for this hallway... the palace in general, really—"
"I believe I am making my way just fine—"
Shale's forehead connected with the wooden crossbeam of the hall's main portal and it splintered wildly, the guards nearest retreating slightly, whilst the golem seemed to ignore the bits of wood raining down around her.
"It called for us—we are here," she announced bluntly, and the silence that followed suggested she hadn't quite planned past those words. Alistair sighed, and whispered to Kaira, "How long have the messengers been here?"
"A little over four hours. I haven't been able to find her Majesty so I sent for them—"
"Four hours? Maker tell, what have they been doing?"
She shrugged, mouth awry. "Waiting, I suppose. The arls with estates in the city have offered them refuge, but they have been in the main foyer since they arrived."
"And they won't tell you anything?"
"Nothing, your Majesty, apart from their wishes to speak solely with Queen Jenna."
Alistair cursed under his breath. "Well, I suppose another hour wouldn't kill them." He now spoke loudly enough so that all could hear. "Lady Wynne and Sten, please follow me to a more private setting, and Shale… if you want to check on the Antivan messengers, that would be… very kind of you. Not that you're a particular fan of kind things, but I'd appreciate it."
Shale looked at Wynne, who started towards Alistair, leaning on Sten for support. At this, she turned around, and stomped out of the hall, ducking this time as she went through the door.
"Thank you, Sten, this is very kind of you," Wynne said, winking at Alistair as they ascended the stairs. The king walked just in front of them, his shoulders beginning to droop as he waved off pair after pair of palace guards. He wove through the maze of the castle's upper rooms, and finally stopped in a parlor to the left. It was a quaint place, fire blazing in the hearth, mantle set with fresh flowers in a smooth marble vase, and sparse lacquered furniture scattered precisely around the room. There were matching wooden hutches set side by side against one of the far walls with a pillar between them, upon which stood an empty crystal vase, so plain it almost stood out.
Sten and Wynne recognized it as one of Jenna's rooms instantly—it served a purpose in its quiet elegance, with a lingering feeling of sparkling laughter, hidden like glitter thrown just out of sight. Alistair walked straight to the set of hutches and they followed wordlessly, feeling his growing despair settling over them.
Within the glassed windows of the cabinets was an assortment of swords, knives, bows, and suits of leathers, Jenna's favourite armours. Alistair wrenched open one of the doors, and ran a finger over the neatly-oiled hardened leather of a shoulder pauldron; the design inscribed on the top was clearly Dalish and marred with scratches and discolourations that suggested it has seen a lot of wear. He smiled. "She liked this one, remember? This was the set that brought her around on leather armor, after she wouldn't let go of that ironbark breastplate when it was shattered by that Omega…"
Wynne nodded her head, chuckling. "I wish I could remember any part of that battle fondly… she lost the breastplate, Sten almost got his armor burnt off, and you, Alistair, almost didn't fell the Omega in favour of running to Jenna…" She smiled brightly. "But we all lived to fight another day, Maker be praised."
Sten scanned the swords quickly, and pointed a finger at a gap between a vicious-looking wavy knife and a broadsword with a crackling shock rune. "One is missing."
They all huddled around the cabinet as Alistair opened it, thumbing the empty sword holder. Sten pointed again. "And this one here is gone."
Alistair wanted to announce that he couldn't believe it, but his eyes were not betraying him—two of Jenna's swords were gone. "But she didn't take two favourites… Starfang and Spellweaver…"
"Are we assuming the kadan has taken them?"
"No one is stupid enough to steal from my wife, not just because she's the queen, but more because she killed an archdemon and lived to tell the tale." Alistair shook his head. "Only Jenna touches these, both by her request and mine."
"But, keeping our options open, any thief skilled enough to get past all the security and open the hutches—I'm assuming she put wards on them—would be able to handle the weapons, and therefore carry them off."
"But what are the chances she disappears at the same time as the swords?"
Wynne shrugged. "Slim to none, I suppose. But there's always the possibility."
"What used to be in this vase?"
Sten's voice made them both jump. Sten touched the lip of the crystal, and it sang quietly. "It is empty, but it must have had something in it. It is too empty to simply be as it is now."
Alistair's heart sank. "The rose I gave her… in camp, by Lake Calenhad…"
He choked for a moment, remembering.
"I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking, how could something so beautiful exist in a place with so much despair and ugliness? I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come and their taint would just destroy it. So I've had it ever since."
Her eyes lit up quietly as she smiled. "That's a nice sentiment."
He looked at her nervously. "I thought that I might…give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."
She looked surprised, more surprised than he had ever seen her. But it was a lovely expression that washed into an excitement she was very poor at hiding. "Why, Alistair… I don't know what to say…"
"I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it?" he gushed. "I just thought, here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it, yourself. You've had none of the good experience of being a Grey Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy."
She smiled, laughing a little. "Well, I seem to be doing very well at that. Being bad at it wouldn't be doing us much good."
He took her hand and gently placed the rose in it, lingering a moment to feel the warmth of her skin, still pink from where the gauntlets gripped her palms. "I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this…darkness."
"Thank you, Alistair, I—" She was transfixed by it, much as he was when he first saw her. She straightened suddenly, smiling kindly. "It means a lot to me. As do you."
"I'm glad you like it," he said, relieved. "Now, if we could move right on past this awkward and embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits, I'd appreciate it."
Her laugh was the best thing he'd ever heard. "Sounds good. Off with the armor then."
"She's running, Alistair," Wynne said grimly.
He snapped form the daydream sadly and sat down in a chair heavily, as if weighed down at the thought. "But why? And where?"
"I think one will lead you to the other," Sten said firmly. "She is a strong woman, but she is simple. It should not be hard to follow her."
"Are we following her now?" Alistair said, voice lifting. "But where are we going? And why did she go?"
Wynne shrugged. "She is traveling very lightly based on everything she left here to imply that she was not gone. She can't be very far, and she can't be risking much without all of her armaments. She is most likely traveling on major highways, perhaps with a caravan or bounty group."
"She's the Queen of Ferelden, she can't just blend in that easily!" Alistair exclaimed. "Her likeness has appeared on the gold piece, everyone knows who she is!"
"This is true," Sten admitted. "But are you going to wait here until rumors of her absence leave the palace and rumors of her fleeing the city enter it?"
"No, no, I'm going after her, that's not even a question," he said quickly. "I'm leaving as soon as we finish talking here—"
"Shale and I are ready to follow."
"My sword shall see to aid you, human King."
Alistair's mouth hung open. "Guys, I can't ask you to do this—for all I know, it might be something I have to do alone. As King, I can order you to stay back—"
"I am not bound by your 'national law'," Sten said through gritted teeth. "Your orders are words, nothing more."
Wynne shrugged in concession. "You would not hinder an old lady walking her path, would you?" She winked. "If the moment comes for you to go it alone, we'll understand."
Alistair threw his hands up in defeat. "Fine. But none of us can go anywhere until we know where she is going, or at least probably where she is going. Any thoughts?"
Wynne's eyebrow cocked in thought. "Perhaps to Orlais, to see Leliana? Jenna always sought out advice from her previously; perhaps this trip is an exaggeration of that behaviour."
"The messengers were from Antiva—perhaps the Crows sent for her." Sten cracked his knuckles loudly. "One in particular."
"To do what? She's the Queen of Ferelden, not a mercenary for hire. Unless…" He blood froze at the thought. Zevran…
Wynne saw it in his face and dismissed it with a flick of her wrist. "Come now, let's be rational. We all travelled with her in the most desperate of times and she did not resort to that, even in the face of hopelessness. Why would she do that now, as queen of her country and wife to her true love?"
"She herself is not being rational," Sten grunted. "The Warden is not this finicky or flighty—that is Leliana's job."
"It's extremely unlike her," Alistair conceded. "She's left without me for bandit tours, but she's always sent word, and I was given at least a day's notice. I don't understand what would cause her to just…go…"
Wynne put a reassuring hand on his shoulder and squeezed, much as she used to do before Jenna twisted an arrow shaft from his arm. It hurt now, in a much different way. She sighed calmly. "Perhaps this is not you, Alistair. She was moments from death when she killed the archdemon. I have been worried that there was residual trauma that accompanied being that close to the destruction of such a force."
"But she could have told me, I could have helped, we could have done it together!" Alistair put his head in his hands. "She's independent, but she doesn't like being…alone. I don't know," he huffed, shaking his head.
"Alistair, we are all alone, truly," Wynne said, her expression sad.
Sten growled angrily. "We waste time with every moment we spend here grieving!" He turned to the cases of weapons. "Come, vehl, take up your sword. There is work still to be done, it seems."
Alistair rose, as if resisting against a million invisible hands, and opened the cabinet shining with swords. "I know. I know."
Jenna had sprinted for almost fifteen minutes once she left the sight of the gate sentries, letting the liberty of pure speed take her over and surround her, the adrenaline coursing through her body freely. At last she collapsed at the foot of an oak tree, limbs aching from the effort, Axel padding softly behind her. All she could think about was the distance between herself and the Wilds, and how it grew shorter with every step, every breath.
Word from Morrigan came by way of a raven last night, telling her to come to the Wilds and, once there, leave the road; while at first disheartening, as straying off the road in the Korcari Wilds was well-known suicide, she trusted Morrigan and her talents, and knew that Morrigan would know of her presence once she entered the forest. Beyond that, Jenna was thankful she had been able to contact her old friend through the Fade, and the relief had washed over her as soon as the bird came into view.
She went for her swords immediately, loading them into a leather-bound map canister and placing it beneath the foot of their bed in the palace. She picked the two lightest ones, identical blades of white steel with plain t-qrip hilts, and stroked her fine leathers lovingly, sad to leave them behind. While Alistair finished a political tour in the Alienage, she bathed in the bathhouse and wept, knowing it would take all of her strength to leave him in the night, no matter how she tried to rationalize it.
When she felt his grip on her waist loosen with sleep, she carefully rolled out of bed and pulled the canister from beneath it, slinging it over her shoulder. He did not move the entire time she crept about, even as she dressed in simple traveling leather and her worn pair of steel-toed boots, but sighed with a smile when she kissed him sadly on the forehead. She wanted to whisper to him of her love, but she couldn't bring herself to say such a thing when she planned to desert him entirely. It was a long set of moments before she was able to tear her eyes away from his sleeping form, from the strong arms and had held her through all the battles, the broad chest that she drew pictures on with her finger just after they made love, the scarred but beautiful skin that was always so warm, so comforting…
She cried as she left, turning down the hallways until she reached her sunroom, wondering how she had gotten turned about. The moonlight cast a silver stream of light on to the pedestal where the dried rose lay, swathed in fine Orlesian crystal. She smiled as the tears came, hearing his voice ring, "I thought that I might…give it to you, actually. In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."
She unsnapped the cover off her canister and gently slid the rose inside, positioning it at the bottom to avoid the blades. As she replaced the cover, she said quietly to herself, "I guess it's a bit silly, isn't it? Not a word of thanks or congratulations. Or goodbye."
She suddenly saw her mother's face in the glass when she looked up, and fled the room, keeping a steady pace as she left through the kitchens. Somewhere along the way, she coaxed Axel out of his crate with a piece of chicken bone, and the two left the city discreetly, the dawn still far off.
The last she had heard, sources pointed to Morrigan disappearing in the Frostbacks, far from the Korcari Wilds. Morrigan had always been a mystical thing, and meeting in the Wilds seemed perfectly in character. No doubt the apostate would scold her for blindly running away in to dangerous territory, but Jenna was just about out of common sense, and past that, there wasn't much else.
Axel had caught his breath and seemed panicked to get moving, not used to simply stopping after speeding along so suddenly. She hauled herself to her feet and walked about ten feet from the road, keeping as steady of a pace as possible. It was comforting to her that the promise of counsel was not far away, and that at last she would get to see her old friend again. But until then, the road was long and tough for the keeping, and she walked on, still flying.
