In War
The next day proceeded much the same as the first. They ate a quick breakfast, packed up camp and hit the road, covering as much ground as they could before the sun was directly overhead. Once again it was another clear day with no respite from the harsh sun, so they took a short break during the hottest hours of the day. Taryn would be thankful once they reached the Frostback Mountains, though by then their journey would nearly be over.
Today Taryn did more talking than Alistair, who listened intently as she spoke. After reading the memos left by her Wardens in the Chant of Light, she talked about many of them and all the fond memories she had gathered over the years. The reminiscence brought her both peace and sorrow, but Taryn knew that the Wardens would get along fine without her.
When dinnertime rolled around, Taryn pulled a wheel of cheese from her pack that she had been saving before tossing it to Alistair. "It's smoked Gruyere that I got on a trip to Orlais a few months back," she explained.
Sealed in orange wax, it had been a challenge to hide in the cold cellar of the Keep, away from the ravenous mouths of her fellow Wardens. They would devour any and all food they could get their hands on.
Alistair gave an appreciative grin as he dropped the reins, his horse content to keep pace, as he pulled a knife from his belt and carved a slice from the wheel. He took a small bite and made an appreciative hum as he turned to look at Taryn.
"I take back everything nasty I said about the Orlesians," he concluded, "They make awesome cheese." Alistair took another bite, but quickly shot out a hasty "Thank you," around a mouthful of cheese.
Taryn smiled as she inclined her head, giving a quiet chuckle. "I'm glad you like it."
Once he had swallowed his food, Alistair spoke up again. "This would make a great fondue," he commented.
Taryn frowned then. "What's fondue?" she asked quizzically.
Alistair answered once he got over the initial shock of her question, obviously in disbelief that she did not know what fondue was. "It's hot melted cheese and a bit of wine that you dip bread into," he explained, "You'd love it!"
Taryn was a little bit skeptical. Cheese was all well and good, but she could hardly imagine the idea of consuming it for a meal all on its own. "I'll take your word for it," she chuckled.
A very serious look came to Alistair's face then as he wrapped up the cheese in cloth before tucking it away. "Then I will save the rest of this until we have some fresh bread and white wine," he declared, "I will not let you die without having tasted the glory of fondue."
Taryn guffawed then, having forgotten quite how passionate her old friend was about cheese. "Alright."
They ended their day a bit on the early side, making camp in a stand of trees. Taryn laid out a few snares in hopes of catching a rabbit for a stew, now that hot food was on her mind. By the time they had set up camp and gotten an iron pot of water and vegetables nestled beside the fire, the dusk had come and gone. When Taryn went to check the snares, she found one with a still struggling rabbit, which she quickly put out of its misery.
She disassembled the snares before bringing the carcass back to the campfire and began cleaning it. Alistair looked mildly nauseated by the entire ordeal but Taryn let him keep his dignity and pretended not to notice – especially considering it was her least favourite part as well. Once the meat was added to the pot, the two Wardens talked quietly for a while until the stew began to bubble.
They ate in silence, content with their meal and the sounds of the night. Crickets were singing in the grass and the frogs trilled amongst the trees. It was all very reminiscent of the Blight, despite the two vastly different people that they had become since then.
A small stream ran near their camp, so Alistair disappeared briefly to wash up and fill their waterskins. When he returned, Taryn couldn't quite keep herself from gaping. Alistair had lost most of his beard, save for the rough stubble that his knife could not shave and a small patch on his chin. As he walked over, he ran a hand through his damp hair, causing it to stand up in front like it had used to, and suddenly he looked ten years younger.
"It was far too hot with that bushy beard on my face," he explained, oblivious to her shock.
Taryn found that she didn't have anything to say about that, fighting against the torrent of memories that his appearance had unearthed. The familiarity was so strong that she felt as though she could drown in it, so Taryn silently reminded herself that he was still King in a desperate attempt to keep herself afloat.
Alistair volunteered to take first watch this time. It would have made more sense for them to take the same shift each night, so that they spent roughly the same number of hours awake, and though Taryn tried to reason with him, he was quite adamant about it.
Releasing a deep sigh she surrendered, but before she could retreat within the tent, Alistair's question stopped her. "Do you always sleep in your armor?"
"Have you ever heard the expression 'caught with your trousers down?'" she retorted, "I like to avoid it."
Alistair rolled his eyes. "There isn't even a Blight at our heels this time," he reasoned, "You didn't sleep in your armor back then."
Something about his tone put her on the defensive, and Taryn's response was a bit more terse than she had intended. "Well that was the past." With that, she disappeared into the tent and climbed into her bedroll.
It took some time for her to fall asleep, and when she did it was not restful. The darkspawn marched rank upon rank in the Deep Roads, sharpening their swords and hammering their armor - ready for war. Somewhere in her mind she knew that it was a dream; the Blight was over and the darkspawn were not amassing an army, but it didn't help the fear that gripped every muscle in her body as the Horde came marching upon her.
The sound of Alistair's voice pulled her from the nightmare, but when Taryn opened her eyes, she was startled to wake at sword point. The blade belonged to a wiry man clad with greasy hair and mismatched armor, holding open the tent flap with his other hand. Taryn looked past him to see where two more men stood, one with a sword trained on a very guilty looking Alistair. Highwaymen.
Taryn rolled over and the sword was at her throat immediately. "Not so fast, woman!" the man warned, "Come out nice and slow."
Glaring back at him, Taryn complied as she calmly crawled out of the tent and pulled herself to her feet. The bandit quickly pulled the small dagger from her belt and tossed it aside. If they had any mind, they would have realized that she was a mage, if not by the staff sitting just out of reach, then at least by the lyrium potions on her belt. Luckily these highwaymen seemed less than astute.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here, lads?" the leader chimed, "A couple o' Grey Wardens taking a snooze."
Taryn's gaze shot questioningly to Alistair, who couldn't even meet her eyes, he looked so ashamed. He had fallen asleep. Maker's breath.
"Where are you off to I wonder?" he demanded, "Maybe you've got your gold hidden in that armor o' yours."
Taryn turned a cold glare on the highwayman. "We have no gold," she replied firmly, "And our business is our own."
The man raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Oh, very touchy," he chided. "Mayhaps we'll just take your food and your horses, if you've got no money then."
Each word was cropped as she spoke and Taryn could see Alistair watching her closely in the corner of her eye. "No, you will not."
The man laughed, but his laughter quickly turned to shrieks of pain as Taryn cast a spell that sent a zap of electricity jolting through him. It was not lethal, but the man writhed on the ground nonetheless. The other two highwaymen quickly turned their swords to point at her, gaping stupidly.
Energy crackled at her fingertips as Taryn glared down the other two men. "Anyone else want to give it a go?" she dared.
Shaking their heads sharply, they wordlessly pulled their stunned leader to his feet, taking his arms over their shoulders as they scurried away. Taryn watched them go, not daring to relax until they were out of sight. Only then did she turn back to face Alistair who looked expectant of a scolding.
Taryn kept her anger contained as she brushed past him and quickly put out the fire with a burst of ice from her fingertips. "We cannot stay here," she informed, "Let's pack up."
Though Alistair looked relieved, he would be punished well enough by the lack of sleep as they rode on through the rest of the night. Only once they were back on the road again did he seem to find the courage to speak up.
"Camping on the road, chasing off bandits – it sort of feels like old times again," he joked quietly.
Taryn smirked as she glanced over at him. "It does. Especially considering you would fall asleep on your watch back then as well."
Most of the tension seemed to alleviate after that night, and Taryn and Alistair spent the next few days reminiscing about the Blight. They spoke of the adventures they'd seen, the companions they had kept, and the fine memories they had forged.
Even with all the tragedy and hardship that had come along with the Blight, Taryn couldn't help but look fondly on those times. The events of the Blight had shaped who she was today; turning a skittish little Circle mage into the respected Warden-Commander she was now. If she could go back to the young apprentice in the Tower and tell her of what adventures awaited her, Taryn would never have believed herself.
Thankfully, the day was overcast and the temperature was quite comfortable as the tall peaks of the Frostbacks had become visible in the distance. They shifted between trotting and walking, taking full advantage of the mild weather.
"Do you remember the time that your mabari left a half-eaten rabbit in Morrigan's pack?" Alistair asked with a cheeky grin.
Taryn chuckled. "How could I forget? She was quite livid about it."
"What if I told you that it wasn't your dog?"
She spun to look at him, her face twisted in disgust. "You chewed up a raw hare?" Taryn grimaced.
Alistair's eyes turned wide. "No! No! No!" he insisted. "Your mabari ate the rabbit, I just planted the evidence. We were in cahoots!"
Taryn leveled him with an incredulous stare. "You went snooping through Morrigan's unmentionables?" she smirked with a raised eyebrow.
"Scarier than the Archdemon, let me tell you," he jeered.
The two of them laughed heartily, catching a few sour looks from a group of passing travelers, but Taryn didn't care. She was merely glad that the tension between them seemed to have dissipated, and it put her mind at ease.
They came upon a small settlement, Emdale, and Taryn knew that they were almost to Lake Calenhad and the Imperial Highway. She had half a mind to stop and barter for a few more supplies, but when the highwaymen had come she had spoken the truth – they really didn't have any coin. They didn't need it where they were going. However, they did stop to water their horses and Taryn was surprised when Alistair suddenly took off.
"I'll be right back!" he called, before disappearing into a small Inn nearby.
She wasn't quite sure what he planned to buy without any gold, but paid him no mind as she watched over the horses. The town was small but lively, populated mostly by farmers. Surrounded by swaying wheat fields and a tall windmill standing watch at the edge of the town, it reminded Taryn of Lothering.
Alistair seemed to be taking his sweet time, and when her patience ran out she was about to go in after him when a commotion caught her attention. Two men were arguing rather heatedly: one was likely a farmer but the other looked well-armed and armored – definitely not a commoner.
Taryn's brow furrowed as she approached, hearing the armored man ranting angrily. "Look, if you ain't got the rest of the coin, it's not worth my neck," he growled, "Find someone else!"
With that he walked away, leaving the farmer looking irate. "Bloody mercenary!" he cursed as he spat on the ground.
"Excuse me," Taryn asked as she tentatively approached. "What's going on, if I may ask?"
The farmer waved a dismissive hand. "Bah, it's a bleedin' drake that's come down from the mountains!" he explained, "Been killing my livestock and will probably set my fields ablaze with my luck."
"I could take care of it for you," Taryn offered politely.
The farmer scoffed. "What, for no less than six Sovereigns? You best be leaving then, cause I can't spare that kind of coin."
"That's alright," Taryn assured him, "I'm not looking for a reward."
The farmer gaped at her then, though he still looked skeptical. "So what, you'll do it out of the goodness of your heart?" he mocked lightly.
Taryn shrugged dismissively. "Just point me in the right direction."
"Well… alright then," he replied, looking desperately hopeful. "It's made a nest on the North end of town, along the bluff."
Taryn nodded and began heading in the direction he'd given her, hearing him call out "Be careful!" from behind her.
The rock formation was large and jagged, perhaps once a piece of the mountains that had long since been separated. As she got further to the edge of the wheat field, Taryn passed a few livestock carcasses - half eaten and half charred.
When she reached the drake's nest, she was surprised to see it awake during the light of day, since they typically saved hunting for the night. It had not yet seen her, so Taryn took her staff in hand and fired a cold spell that covered the drake in ice.
The beast gave a roar of anger as it shook to break the frost from its scales, sharp yellow eyes turning to glare at her. Taryn fired several more hexes from her staff until the drake began to approach. Next she cast a spell that caused roots to burst from the ground, wrapping around the small dragon's feet, slowing it down. Taryn continued her attacks while pacing her mana expenditure, careful not to exhaust herself too quickly.
The drake opened its mouth full of sharp teeth and blew fire at the roots, weakening them enough to snap. It advanced faster now and Taryn cast an armor spell in case it got too close. When it was within striking distance, she swung her staff around, slashing at the drake with the long blade in the end of her staff. Taryn was rather proficient at both using her staff to cast magic and as a melee weapon, having honed her combat skills after the Blight passed.
A rush of fire erupted from the drake's mouth, but the flames broke upon the barrier that she conjured. As soon as the barrier fell, she cast another ice spell before thrusting her staff deep into the beast's hide. The drake gave a final roar before it fell to the ground dead.
Taryn was panting from exertion, but found herself rather exhilarated. It had been far too long since her last fight. Taking a claw from the drake as a trophy, she made her way back to the village.
The farmer was surprised to see her again, and even more so when she had placed the large talon in his hand. "The drake is dead," she declared with a smile.
A grin lit up the man's face as he sighed with relief. "Oh, thank you so much!" he said as he began fishing through his coin purse. "Please, let me at least give you something for your trouble."
Taryn placed a hand on his, halting his movement. "Please, I do not need your money," she insisted.
"Supplies then!" he argued, "It's the least I can do."
By the time Taryn had managed to get away, she was juggling a sack of oats for the horses, two turnips, and half a dozen carrots. Alistair was standing by the horses as she approached staring at her and her luggage incredulously.
"And just where have you been?" he demanded, "Where did you get all that?"
Taryn slung the bag of oats into his arms before packing the rest of the food into her saddlebags. "Slew a drake for a farmer and he wouldn't let me leave without a reward," she replied nonchalantly.
Alistair gawked. "And you didn't invite me?" he whined.
Taryn raised an eyebrow as she untied her horse from the post. "You were still in the tavern," she argued as a smirk twisted her lips, "Besides, I wouldn't want you to break a royal nail swinging a sword."
Alistair glowered at her. "Oh, ha ha," me muttered sarcastically.
Taryn was simply giving him a hard time, since she knew that despite his Kingship he was still in fighting condition. It was something that Alistair had taken very seriously even from the beginning. He had not wanted to become fat and lazy like most Nobles, so he had trained every day to keep his skills sharp.
Shaking her head as she laughed, Taryn looked back to him as she nodded in the direction of the tavern. "So what did you hope to buy with no money?"
Alistair held up his right hand, wiggling his fingers. "I traded for a ring I had," he explained. "Probably could have gotten more. That thing was worth at least fifty sovereigns."
Taryn breathed a chuckle as she raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, was so important that you needed to sell your ring?" she inquired.
A grin lit up his face as he opened his saddle bag to reveal a fresh loaf of crusty bread and a bottle of white wine. "Tonight, we are having fondue!"
Alistair was true to his word. They made camp on the shores of Lake Calenhad, and by the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, their cast-iron pot was full of bubbling molten cheese next to the crackling driftwood fire. As Alistair was carving the bread into cubes with his dagger, Taryn sat on a log gazing out over the still waters of the lake. From there she could barely make out the silhouette of the Circle tower against the inky black sky.
After the mage rebellion, it wasn't likely to have many occupants but it served as a college now, for any mages seeking training and knowledge. The Wardens had kept out of the conflict for the most part, merely dividing their efforts to help civilians caught in the crossfire of the war between the mages and the Templars.
Taryn rested the bottle of white wine on her knee, the remainder of which she and Alistair had been sharing between them. It must have been the tavern's most expensive bottle, because she never would have expected such fine vintage from a common Inn. The taste was sweet and fresh, and it reminded her of spring.
"Save some for me, will you?" Alistair chided. "Now come on, it's about ready."
Getting up from her seat, Taryn walked over to where he was sitting on the grass and handed him the bottle as she sat down beside him. "Alright, so how do we fondue?" she asked with a cheeky smile.
Alistair picked up a small cube of bread. "You just take your bread and dip it," he demonstrated, before handing her the cheese coated morsel. "Simple as that."
Taryn took it where the bread was still uncoated, blowing lightly on the steaming cheese. Alistair was watching her with much anticipation, so she bravely popped the whole bite into her mouth and tried not to wince as she scalded her tongue.
"Well, what do you think?!" he demanded.
Opening her full mouth, Taryn tried to breathe out some of the heat before she finished chewing and swallowed. "I think I burnt my tongue." She hadn't been able to taste much of anything.
Alistair looked slightly disappointed and immediately handed the wine back to her, which she took a quick swig of to relieve the burning in her mouth. "Well you should wait a minute for it to cool next time," he suggested, using a cloth to pull the pot away from the fire before dunking his own piece of bread in the cheese.
Taryn leveled him with a glare. "You don't say," she grumbled.
This time when she had a new piece of bread, she waited nearly two minutes before she was willing to risk taking a bite. The cheese was a much more manageable temperature on her second attempt. The Gruyere had a strong taste, but the subtle flavour of the wine cut the richness nicely. Overall, it was rather delicious.
Taryn nodded appreciatively as she reached for another cube of bread. "Not bad," she admitted.
Alistair looked flummoxed. "Not bad? That's all you have to say?!" he balked, "This is the pinnacle of cheesy perfection! It's the only good thing the Orlesians ever did for Thedas!"
A great laugh erupted from Taryn's lips at the look on his face. Surely it wasn't nearly that funny, but the wine had begun to make her red in the face, and the Warden-Commander had always been a cheap drunk.
"What's so funny?" Alistair breathed a small laugh.
"You," she admitted freely, struggling to bring her laughter to bear as she handed him the wine bottle. "I've missed this."
A warm smile lit up Alistair's face. "Me too," he replied softly, before taking another sip of wine.
They were quiet for a while as they ate, and Taryn looked out over the lake again. The moon was slowly growing fuller with each passing day and its reflection shivered gently against the surface of the lake. Taryn could still remember their journey to the Circle tower all those years ago, and the horrors she had seen as her friends and peers had been turned to corpses and abominations strewn about the Tower. When all was said and done, only a few mages had survived and Taryn had been in shock for several days after that.
It hadn't been until Alistair had come to her one night during her watch and asked her if she was alright that she had broken down. The rest of their companions had been asleep as she wept quietly while he held her tightly. Even among the Grey Wardens at Vigil's Keep, Taryn had many close friends, but no one she felt she could bare her emotions to – it would reflect poorly on her station. In a way, things had been simpler back then.
Alistair's words pulled her from her thoughts. "Did you want to take a short detour, to visit the Tower?" he asked softly.
"No," Taryn swiftly declined as she shook her head. "I don't think there's anyone there who remembers me anymore."
Alistair scoffed as he sidled up closer to her. "I don't believe that for a second," he insisted. "How could they not remember the brilliant, courageous, beautiful woman who left the Tower and became the Hero of Ferelden?"
Taryn turned to look at him, his hazel eyes burning gold in the firelight and filled with sincerity. Somehow she had been transported back in time. Back to the campsite where she had known her first love, with those same eyes smiling back at her each day and many nights.
Before she could think to stop herself, Taryn leaned in and pressed her lips softly to his, stirring ashes of feelings long since buried, causing them to ignite once more. However, it only took a moment for her sense to come reeling back to her and she pulled away, gaping.
His gaze was unreadable, and Taryn struggled to find her tongue. "I'm sorry. That wasn't right. I-"
Taryn couldn't say more because Alistair's hands were tangled in her hair and her mind stopped working. His lips were moving against hers and her heart stopped beating. He smelled of leather and wood smoke and everything familiar. And though it was wrong in so many ways, the reasons stopped existing.
The kiss deepened and Taryn's head began to swim with vertigo, losing her sense of gravity entirely. Their lips did not part until they were both winded and Alistair leaned his forehead against hers as they caught their breath. His smile warmed her to the core, but as she gulped the cold night air her mind sobered rapidly.
Taryn put a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back, trying to look severe despite the blush in her cheeks. "That was a mistake," she affirmed, trying to convince him as much as herself. "It cannot happen again."
An array of emotions passed through Alistair's eyes: shock, confusion, and most prominently hurt. "No it's not, Taryn," he replied just as determinedly. "I've never stopped loving you."
Taryn was on her feet halfway through his sentence, trying to block out his words. "No, no, no." She hadn't spent all these years building up her walls to simply have him knock them down again as though they were nothing but parchment. "You can't." He was the King of Ferelden. He had a wife and children. He had broken her heart.
Alistair tried to reach for her arm, but she quickly yanked it away. "No. I won't." With that, Taryn turned and left him standing in the campsite. She needed to walk, she needed to think, and she needed to be as far away from him as possible.
Taryn's feet carried her forward, for how long she could not say, and when she finally collapsed on a large piece of driftwood, the campfire was a small glow winking in the distance. Her composure was in ruins, and Taryn didn't even know where to begin when she faced him again. She clung desperately to the idea that it was simply the wine that had lowered her inhibitions, but she knew herself better than that.
Over the past week, Alistair had been slowly whittling down her walls and she had been blind to have not realized it sooner. Taryn had thrown herself into the familiarity all too eagerly, unaware of the cracks that her heart still bore. With the scattered pieces of her pride, she had to build her barriers back up again and smother the flame that he had awoken within her. Taryn refused to break now – not this close to the end.
Gathering her dignity, Taryn began her walk back to the camp. The sand pulled at her boots with each step, and the distance seemed twice as long. A sullen looking Alistair immediately got to his feet upon her return. His eyes were so full of hope that it nearly crushed her resolve, but Taryn held firm.
Taking a deep breath she began speaking, keeping her voice firm and professional, though she kept her gaze on her hands – careful not to fiddle. "Alistair, I'm sorry but that was a mistake. I got too wrapped up in the wine and the past, but the truth is: I don't feel the same anymore."
His gaze fell as he folded his arms across his chest, his jaw clenching as he stared without seeing. The tension in the air was heavy and Taryn didn't know what to say, so she idly muttered, "I'll take first watch."
Alistair was gone in an instant, disappearing into the tent without a word or a glance. Taking a seat by the fire, Taryn stirred the coals to life with a stick as she released a small sigh. She conjured another floating hourglass, and took out the Chant of Light and began to read, hoping to take her mind off all of this madness.
