Give Me A Sign
And I can feel you falling away
No longer the lost
No longer the same
And I can see you starting to break
I'll keep you alive
If you show me the way
Forever – and ever
The scars will remain
I'm falling apart
Leave me here forever in the dark ("Breaking Benjamin", "Give Me A Sign")
Chapter 1
The arguments had already appeased but she was still feverishly walking up and down and could not take her ease as if expecting something wrong and fateful to happen… as it had happened that day.
Aeris Surana was quivering. Presentiment didn't desert her and now being in seclusion and safety of her room she couldn't acknowledge to herself if her decision was right.
The enraged Alistair was still facing her screaming something about Duncan, Grey Wardens and justice. Justice…
Aeris has found out the hard way that roads of justice and mercy diverge more frequently rather than she wants them to.
Being a good person doesn't save you from being in the wrong. She grasped this simple verity as a child: her mentor liked repeating the phrase. But this knowledge didn't free her of her worry, and the deeper she merged into a new world, the oftener she froze in indecision between the horns of a new dilemma.
Aeris sat down on the bed and covered her face with her hands. Alistair said himself that they had no time for distraction and feuds, that for victory all of them should have bound together – it was an aim of their order, wasn't it?
She couldn't understand why everybody was up in arms over her. Why the anxiety about her in her friends' eyes suddenly changed into disbelief and shock?! Aeris saw how Alistair's face turned to white, how Oghren displeasedly muttered something to himself, how the hearty Leliana, who was thundering out her support of her leader during the duel, stopped with open mouth. Wynne was looking at her as if she were an apostate – the healer's glance was unbelieving and… and embarrassed? Morrigan was scowling and seemed to be away; a curious look came over her face. There was nothing to see from Zevran's, Shale's and Sten's faces as if they had worn the same mask of detachment and deadness. And all this only because she wasn't able to revenge… to kill… to execute…
Aeris threw back her long hair, sighed deeply and looked around the room. This apartment was intended for a great lady, not for her. Airy and light, it was absolutely different from the roomlet in the Tower which she had been sharing with the other apprentices. The memories about her former life, so strange for most people and so normal for mages, overcame her driving the other thoughts in the background. She wished to return there, to that darksome place, where sometimes only drafts wandered around long somber corridors.
Somebody's steps were heard in the offing. Going by their heaviness, they must have been Sten's or Oghren's. Probably, some of them wanted to talk to her about her strange decision. Oh yes, nobody expected such a turn-up.
The door burst open, and someone she didn't expect barged into the room. Alistair with eyes full of anger swashed it.
Aeris stood up. She remained calm but in reality she was frightened and bushed left alone with her desperate friend.
"How… How could you…" he gasped. "I can't believe…"
"Alistair, please, calm down," Aeris asked. She was surprised how pleadingly and weakly her voice had sounded.
"Calm down?! Calm down?! I'll calm down only after his death!"
"What are you saying? I don't recognize you. You were different…"
"As you were!" he shouted. "Or maybe, he did corrupt you as well?"
"I was corrupted by nobody," replied Aeris coldly. She recovered her strength and held her head proudly drawing herself up to her full height. "Alistair, I implore you, for our friendship, get real!"
"That's it! After all, I'm a king now by your grace!"
"Yes, you're king," she said confidently. "And you ought to think of welfare of your country."
"Ah, yes, I get it. You mean that justice is not very important for Ferelden?"
"Ferelden doesn't need vengeance," knapped the mage, "but needs a good ruler and a skilled general."
"Ahhhh, what a stupid templar I am! You have never cared for Duncan, for our order and for everybody who was murdered then because of the treachery of this… of this…" Alistair was loss for words.
"We are in the war!" she didn't even presume to argue, although his words cut her deeply. "We have an army where, just give a handle, haemorrhage will start! You and I know nothing about how to control troops! Who will lead them?"
"It could be anybody! Why don't you see? It's a betrayal! You are betraying the Grey Wardens! You want this murderer to become one of us! Honour's instead of punishment?!"
Aeris scrutinized the face of her friend who had been saving her life and defended her so many times. What happened? Why'd he got such bloodlust? She had always supported him, tried to cheer him when he had needed it. And now she just couldn't understand why kind-hearted, flush, sweet Alistair had changed.
"I'm sure, Duncan would agree with me on the matter," Aeris whispered saying to herself.
"You don't know anything of Duncan!" Alistair gave a yell. Feared Aeris cowered away. "You have never wanted to be one of us, I know! I know everything! You went away with him to save your skin!"
"Stop it!" she screamed pressing her hands to her ears. "Please, go away!"
"You were helping that blood mage! You betrayed the Circle!" Alistair kept on raging, his face grew red. He took step forward to the white as chalk elf. They, who had always shared not only all the ills of life but also their beliefs, suddenly drifted apart – as light and darkness, fire and ice. And if Alistair's heart was flaming with the light of justice and got only hotter feeling indignation, Aeris's soul was immersing deeply into the darkness of frozen desperation.
"He was my friend. The only friend I had. I'd known since childhood," the louder his words became the lower did her own.
Alistair stared at her heaving. He spoke again but without anger in his words. Now he was speaking antsy and quickly as if he was trying to persuade her, to bring her to her senses:
"Loghain bowled both of us to death. He traded elves, tried to kill Arl Eamon and us. Uldred broke the Circle, thanks to Loghain again. And our brothers and sisters and Cailan are dead because this damnable hero left them all to die! And now you are defending him?!"
"Yes, I am" was her simple reply.
Alistair didn't expect that. This brief answer made him so angry as if she had given a speech in vindication of Loghain Mac Tir, whom she and Riordan were going to put through the Joining.
"W-what?!" he was confused at first. "And that after all we've been through?"
Aeris remained silent, but he didn't need her words: he saw the answer in her eyes.
"I get it," he whispered, "get it. Maker, I've been mistaken… I thought you are different from…"
"Different from what?" Aeris swallowed nervously and looked at him expectantly.
"You aren't a true Grey Warden. You are… you are just a… just a mage…"
It was just too much for her. The years of the practice aimed at getting all the feelings and thoughts under absolute control suddenly became useless and unmeaning.
– "Yes, I'm a mage!" screamed Aeris. She was trembling, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. "What do you want from me? I was already made to forget everything once, you see, everything, and I'm not going to abandon all the things I've always been!"
"Duncan abandoned his family!"
"But it doesn't mean he forgot them!"
"How…" Alistair stopped and changed the topic. "I see that I never knew you. But I know you now. You have a strange crush on murderers: this Jowan of yours, Morrigan, Zevran, now Loghain…"
"Stop it! You have no right…"
"I'M A KING! I have right…"
"YOU ARE NOT A TEMPLAR TO TEACH ME!" it seemed to her she had never screamed so loudly before, but…
"Ooh!"
Aeris removed her hand off her lips. The fingertips became vermeil with blood. Alistair's hand fell to his side. He was gasping looking with horror at the blood on his sister-in-arms' face.
"What's going on?! Why are you shouting?!"
Riordan, Arl Eamon, Loghain and Zevran rushed into the room. Alistair glanced at them and then gave Aeris a scared look, his eyes on stalk. He turned sharp round and, sweeping all others aside, ran out of the room.
"Aeris!" Zevran, who caught sight of blood and tears of the mage's face, dashed for her.
"It's all right," she wheezed out when the assassin took her face carefully in his hands.
"Did he… did he hit you?" Arl Eamon looked shocked.
Zevran snarled deafly. Aeris had never seen him so angry.
"Please, calm down," she asked him softly but the elf didn't listen. He reached forth his blades.
"He's dead meat," Zevran hissed balefully and before somebody could stop him and rushed away in search of Alistair.
"Zevran!" the cry was up in the air. The assassin got clear away.
"We should stop him," remarked Riordan, "before bloodshed starts."
"It seems it has already started," Loghain gave an inaudible mutter.
The mage didn't say anything and dashed out of the room. The men followed her.
---
Alistair was running down the long empty corridors of the mansion. He couldn't believe that he had stricken a woman; the recall of that was awful. He hated himself; he hated her and all this damnable Blight. And he hated Loghain and blamed him for all that had happened to him, Aeris, Duncan, Cailan… The list could be endless. And now… He was no better than this ""living legend"" really.
He tried to take comfort in him wanting to knock sense into her, to make her change her foolish and bad decision. There was no justice, there was no honour, and – how had she said? – no vengeance… But in his mind he remounted to the moment when he laid hands on a crying girl, again and again… There was no honour. Nothing could justify it, nothing. What had become of him?
"You, bastard!"
No doubts, it was him who had been spoken to, thanks to his dear father he'd never known. Alistair turned around. Zevran was approaching him. There was no his usual cattish smile on his tanned face; his eyes glittering with some mad, endless malice and something Alistair couldn't recognize; his blades in his arms. Alistair thought that elf didn't look like the civil, balanced Zevran.
"Going for the doctor, yes?" the elf hissed floutingly.
"I've never eluded from someone like you," replied the Grey Warden dryly.
Zevran gave a laugh.
"Of course you've not. You specialize in the other things, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?"
Zevran came slowly keeping his eyes fixed on the former templar.
"Did you think I'd put up with it? Just let you go?" he whispered, his eyes lit up with devilish flames.
"Drop dead! I'm sick of the whole business without you," Alistair was going to turn but changed his mind: it wasn't wise to turn your back on a professional killer. The Grey Warden felt discomfort: he hadn't any weapon with him, and Zevran wasn't friendly.
"Maybe, you're king," the assassin grinned, "but it doesn't mean that I'll just be standing and looking how you…" he took a deep breath. "Get ready, my king. Don't worry, I promise, your funeral ceremony will be gorgeous."
"Oh, yes, to kill an unarmed one is such honour. Who knows, may be the Crows will take you back," – sneered Alistair. He wasn't going to plead for mercy. His life had been already broken because of Aeris, Maric and Loghain.
To his surprise, Zevran flung his swords down.
"I can do it with bare hands," the elf's voice was full of hatred and venom. "It won't cause me any sweat. You are the one here who can try a fall with someone weaker than you. Your Majesty deigns only to hit a woman."
"It sounds odd coming from a murderer," fended Alistair.
At the moment Zevran jumped at him like lightening and hit him before Alistair could dodge – blood poured from the nose. The templar decided not to wait for another blow of the elf, which had lost his nerve, and hit him straight on the jaw. They grappled like two enraged dogs, and both of them didn't even care that they had been defending each other's backs.
"Stop it! Stop it now!"
Somebody's hands got hold of Alistair and dragged him away from the Crow.
"Hold it, Alistair!"
Riordan and Eamon were holding him. Loghain got his claws into Zevran, who was still spoiling for a fight. Aeris rushed for her assassin to pacify him by her mild speech. Alistair caught her look at him and suddenly saw her on the other side: bleary, frightened, broken, still trying to put something right. But he knew that it was too late now: he wasn't going to get his brother's crown, furthermore, he wasn't able to stay here with her any more: the memory of what he had done and what she had would chase him whenever he'd hear her soft voice, see her strange yellow eyes. She had made her choice and wouldn't change that. There was nothing left.
"Release me," Alistair stopped resisting, and Riordan with Eamon loosened their grip momentarily. The Grey Warden detached himself and squared his shoulders. Zevran'd calmed down as well; under the influence of his beloved's reasoning he fell all of a heap in Loghain's arms, but the former teyrn didn't release him, for fear of the cunning elf trying to put him off his guard.
"Alistair, what's going on?" Arl Eamon took the Warden by the hand.
Alistair kept silent. He was looking daggers at Loghain, his ruffle with Zevran was completely forgotten when he'd seen this betrayer.
Riordan came forward, quiet and tired. In the dusk his pale complexion seemed to be even sicklier than ever.
"You are Grey Wardens," he looked at Alistair, Aeris and Loghain. "If we want to stop the Blight, we have to be at one – in our words, actions and thoughts. Your behavior…"
"So, all you care about are good manners, right Riordan?" Alistair gave a strange, unnatural laugh. "The death of Duncan and the others – we have to be at one on this issue as well?"
"Alistair," whispered Aeris. Loghain released Zevran; there was an unreadable look on the general's poker face. Zevran gave Alistair another deadly glance, picked up his swords from the floor and sheathed them.
"Our order…" began to speak Riordan but Alistair interrupted the Senior Warden.
"You mean your order," he said caustically. "I don't want to get roped into your business any more. To hell with your Archdemon and your crown. I'm leaving."
"Alistair, wait!" exclaimed Eamon.
Some part of Alistair wanted to agree with him, stay here and keep fighting on their side as it had been before: playing tricks on Aeris and Leliana, talking to Wynne whole days and nights, listening to the whole nonsense of Oghren… Even Morrigan didn't seem to him such a beastly witch… Well, maybe not exactly. But the sight of silent Loghain Mac Tir standing at Aeris's side…
Be as it may.
"I… I just can't," he told all of them. Then he turned to Aeris and held up his hands: "It's… it's the end."
And he walked away, broken and betrayed. No one stopped him.
He didn't hear his sworn foe saying quietly:
"A really royal departure."
---
"How are you, dear?"
Aeris looked up. Wynne smiled cheerfully.
"You ought to be strong," the old mage sat down on a large comfortable sofa beside the Warden. "He will be back, you'll see."
Aeris smiled painfully. Suddenly she held Wynne tight as if she were a little child that had woken up from the nightmare.
"When will all of this be over, Wynne?" Aeris whispered deafly hiding her head in the healer's side. Wynne only smiled downy and patted her head.
"You need a rest, child," spoke the mage passing her hand over the Warden's smooth hair. "Time heals. He'll understand it either, and very soon. I'm sure, then we all will be laughing looking back on this day."
Aeris felt that doubt was hiding under Wynne's anodynes, but she was grateful even for that. The elf lay down on the sofa, pillowed her head on the healer's knees and smiled at her. Wynne chuckled at her childish behavior, and started to sing something in a soft voice. Aeris closed her eyes with delight.
That was how they spent this time, thinking back on the forgotten simple joys, so imperceptible for normal people and so desirable for mages. Aeris was looking for the care and safety of a mother, Wynne – for the love and warm of a child. The chucks in the fireplace were clacking, the life around faded; and only a quiet song didn't let the time stop…
When Loghain and Riordan came into the small living room, they saw a strange scene: Wynne was lulling the Warden, which laid flat on the sofa and napping peaceful on the older enchanter's lap.
"Are we in the way?" asked Riordan under his breath. The healer nodded briefly and threw the Senior Warden an inquiring glance.
"All is prepared for the ritual," he explained glinting at the sleeper. "I just wanted to warn her."
Wynne nodded towards Aeris and glanced imploringly at the men.
The Grey Warden gave a hardly perceptible nod and beckoned Loghain to follow. The other got under way with a bad grace, looked out over the mages and was going to leave, but…
"Wait."
A sodden voice made Loghain stop. He turned around and saw how his "saviour", rubbing her eyes, sat.
"The preparations are over," Riordan informed her. "Sorry for interrupting".
"Never mind," she answered stretching herself. Wynne signed loudly.
"I expected to be through with it today," claimed the Senior Warden.
Loghain gave him a baleful stare and frowned. This Orlesian is too independent.
Riordan didn't notice it and kept on talking with Surana:
"Your presence is not required. I can do it myself."
Wynne put her hand on the elf's shoulder as if the old mage wanted the Warden to agree with Riordan's offer. Loghain again and again caught her glances at him – glances reminding of stares of an accuser who was looking at a supposed criminal.
"No," Aeris stood up. Loghain examined carefully her exhausted face, her tear-stained eyes that hadn't dried yet. She is too weak – she can't lead armies, he told himself. The girl is not like Cauthrien, not a fighter, too fragile and soft. But she defeated him… "I must be near," she said.
It's difficult to say what has surprised him more: her words or the firmness of her words.
"I'm flattered that you waste your precious time on me… Warden" said Loghain coldly. It had sounded like an insult, he thought. He saw that she flinched from this "title", how a sleepy expression on her exsanguine face (where was no impact mark, thanks to Wynne) changed into anxiety and unrest.
"Well… let's go?" asked Aeris.
"He'll return," suddenly said Riordan. "He's a Grey Warden."
A wan smile touched her thin lips. She didn't say anything and walked out of the room. Wynne closed her eyes.
"He will not and she knows that," the healer said softly.
Riordan and Loghain looked at her, but the mage wasn't eager to continue her explanations. There was nothing to do, and the Senior Warden with the former teyrn followed their new leader to meet the Joining.
I know I was very cruel to Alistair; he doesn't deserve it. But it was necessary and I promise I'm not going to leave him.
And I also want to apologize for every mistake you may find: it's my first writing in English, so please, forgive me! Have a nice day