Rebuilding
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Bloomingtide; Year 9:31
On the Road to Highever
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So much for my happy ending
~ Avril Lavigne
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The bandit was clumsy.
Elissa was surprised that they had no trouble thus far on the roads; in the aftermath of the Bight the highwaymen were more numerous and desperate than ever, and although she and Zevran brought little by the way of coin, they were a walking fortune in armor and weapons. She lay quietly and listened to the heavy footsteps and occasional grunt, and thought darkly that whoever the man was, he'd do much better to switch professions. She kept a firm grip on the fur at Aiden's neck, feeling the tremors that were shuddering through him at being forced to lie still, but he knew his mistress and her ways, and obeyed the silent order.
Zevran was nearby and she could hear his breathing, deep and even, but she had no doubt that he was awake as well, waiting for the thief to be within reach before he moved.
The footsteps stumbled nearer, towards the pack that rested near her head, and Elissa waited until the figure bent down close enough that she could smell the mead on his breath before she elbowed him in the face, her blow connecting with his nose with a satisfying pop. She rolled to her feet, dagger drawn and ready. Zevran was already behind him when the thief reeled back, blood gushing, and the assassin quickly threw him to the ground and put a booted foot on his chest.
"Hm. That was almost disappointingly easy," he said thoughtfully when the man made no move to get up, simply lied on his back, clutching his nose and cursing. Zevran readily caught the end of the rope Elissa tossed to him and kicked the prisoner over, tying his hands behind his back. "Well, my friend," he said as he worked, "I must say that whatever you expected to accomplish here—and I do hope you were not overly optimistic, given the circumstances—you certainly chose the wrong targets."
The man chuckled darkly and sniffed, wet and noisy. "So kill me."
Zevran blinked, speechless at the flat reply, delivered free of bravado or swaggering, and he looked at Elissa questioningly, as if unsure what to do.
"Who are you?" Elissa demanded. When the man ignored her and tried to struggle to his feet she sent the rope looping around him with of flick of her wrist and yanked. He hissed in pain at the burns and hit the dirt hard.
"My people are herders," she said, standing over him. "Don't move until I tell you to. I'll ask you once more—who are you?"
He shook his head. "No one."
"No one," she repeated with an edge to her voice, fast loosing patience with this would-be thief. After a year of being reduced to little more than a mercenary in order to collect the coin they needed to keep traveling, Elissa had become somewhat of an expert in the different classes of villainy that plagued Ferelden's back alleyways and lonely roads. She'd been sneered at, mocked, even spit on once—though that fellow's jaw would probably never be the same after Alistair had his say about that—but never had she seen such a dead, unconcerned look in the eyes of the aggressor. She was as much at a loss as Zevran.
The thief gave her a grim smile, and behind the curtain of drink and bitterness Elissa saw sadness, gnawing from the inside like a caged animal. She moved forward, trying to examine the man more closely in the firelight. He didn't stand out much in the sea of faceless thieves that crowded her memories, ragged and dirty with the faint air of being in ill health due to eating whatever he could whenever it happened to make itself available. Yet there was something vaguely different about him as well, a look in his eyes that told her a man who wasn't born to this life lurked within him.
It was a look she recognized after a bit of thought, and the recollection tugged at her heartstrings in the oddest way. She'd seen it only once before, in a wavering reflection cast in the small stream at Ostagar, a matter of days after having the only life she had ever known ripped away from her.
Behind the man Zevran shrugged in apparent boredom and drew his dagger, moving to slit the thief's throat, but Elissa made a small gesture with her hand, stopping him.
"No one?" she said again, more gently this time.
He looked up at her, his lip curling, condescending and thick-tongued as though he were speaking to a blissfully ignorant child. "There are a great many no ones in Ferelden these days, my lady."
"What happened to you?" she asked before she could help herself, and the question startled the man as well as Zevran. His dark eyes seemed to smolder in the flickering light before he looked away, refusing to answer.
Zevran tapped the flat of his blade against his thigh, waiting, but Elissa's mind was already made up, even though if asked, she couldn't explain her reasoning. Alistair would think she was crazy, she knew. His hazel eyes would go wide in incredulity and he'd stammer in protest, demanding to know what on earth she could possibly be thinking, as he had when she decided to spare Zevran.
Hopefully, she thought with a touch of self deprecation, she could be as fortunate a second time.
She looked at the intruder again, this time with hard professionalism. He was a big man, standing well over six feet, with a muscular build gone soft from drink. It was impossible to discern anything else, though, since he was so drunk he was weaving in place, even sitting on the ground. "Can you handle a sword?"
"Going to challenge me to even combat, are you?" He sniffed again and made a motion with his shoulder like he was trying to reach up and wipe the blood from his face, before realizing he was still bound by rope. He growled beneath his breath. "You've been reading too many fairy stories, little girl."
Zevran delivered a kick to the small of his back that made him jump and hiss in pain. The assassin was frowning, narrow-eyed and suspicious at the turn this encounter was taking. "Answer her."
The man shot him a steely glare over his shoulder before apparently deciding it was more prudent to avoid provoking the dangerous figure any further. "I served in the town militia," he said, albeit unwillingly. "I can handle myself."
Elissa nodded, considering. As she raced out of Denerim, she had fully intended to run away from all of it, to ignore the orders that sent her to Vigil's Keep to take up the mantle of Warden Commander. The passing days had cooled her sulk and reined in a temper that sometimes got the better of her, allowing her to think clearly. Ferelden needed new Wardens, and, by her own design, there was no one else.
She knew perfectly well that the lords in Denerim thought very little of her. They called her the Hero of Ferelden only in public. In private, there were lingering doubts that the youngest pup of Bryce Cousland had it in her to do all her friends had claimed. They saw Sten's enormous frame, Leliana's superior beauty and golden tongue, Alistair's undeniable skill, and Elissa's significance dwindled and shrank until it must have seemed she was simply along for the ride. But the fact that Arl Eamon had been calling loudly for her to take the position more from a desire to get her out of Denerim than any belief she could actually do it was irrelevant, now. It was hers.
Part of her was still angry that this role had been dumped on her without even asking her what she thought of it, made even more furious after the new king oh-so-generously gave her Amaranthine, which should have been returned to her family anyway. But another part of her knew, deep down beneath the anger and the hurt, that Alistair needed her there, that he believed she was the best person to fill the position, even if no one else did.
It was enough to take her turmoil and center it, to forge it into a weapon that was sharp and focused, transforming her from a bitterly wounded, bratty noble to the formidable woman that emerged when all other options were gone, the one who had united the races of Ferelden under a single banner and driven her sword through the skull of an archdemon.
She'd be Warden Commander, and rebuild the Order, until the Wardens were the most powerful force in all of Ferelden.
Those bastards in Denerim didn't know who they were dealing with.
"I'm not going to kill you," she told the man in front of her, who was still unaware he was the first of Ferelden's newest recruits. She sheathed her dagger, ignoring Zevran's look, which rested somewhere between resignation and disbelief. "I have a different offer, if you're willing to take it. What's your name?"
He looked up, bleary eyed and confused. "Aeryc. Aeryc Kinsey."
…
It was a new kind of experience for Elissa, waking up beneath the early sun. The morning was cold, but not bitterly so, and her blankets were soft and snug, like a finely spun cocoon of warmth that could somehow shut out the rest of the world. For a confused moment she wondered where she was, and why she'd fallen asleep beside the fire instead of inside her tent, but at the sound of Zevran's muttered voice and Aeryc's snarled replies the memories came seeping back, and she stifled a groan and burrowed deeper in her blankets.
She dozed off again, only to wake later to a riot of hungry chirping from the boughs above her. The sun seemed brighter, but still she didn't move, far more exhausted than she should have been. She drifted between wakefulness and the Fade, her mind diving and slipping along a tangle of memories. They swirled and danced in her mind without any structure or purpose, a jumble of images that bled together into a colorful tapestry. Leliana giggling while she plucked a wildflower from the side of the beaten road and put it in Elissa's hair; Wynne looking so wise and learned as she read quietly beside the fire, even though Elissa knew she was reading a smutty romance novel; Zevran and Oghren ribbing each other good-naturedly while they eyed some of the buxom Pearl employees from a shadowed corner. She remembered Alistair on the search for the village of Haven, laughing in the cold winter sun, and from further back in her mind, the look in his eyes in the purple light of dusk when he drew her against him and gently lifted her chin to kiss her for the first time…
Zevran brought her to full wakefulness then by the simple and obnoxious method of yanking her blanket out from under her, sending her rolling out of her comfortable hole and onto a damp ground choked with leaves and twigs.
Elissa promptly made a noise like an angry cat and threw something at him—she wasn't sure of what until she saw him dodge one of her boots and tsk at her. "The day wears on and Highever awaits, my poor, lazy bella," he said cheerily, quick to sidestep as the second boot followed the first.
Aiden barked and dashed to fetch it, slightly ruining the intended effect.
"It is not like you to sleep so late," Zevran said more seriously, bending down to pick up her hurled footwear for her.
"I know." She yawned, rubbing vigorously at her aching eyes. "I'm just so tired. I must have gotten soft, in Denerim."
"You are hardly in danger of growing fat and lazy after a short month of much needed rest," he said, thinking. "I will admit, I begin to grow concerned for your health. We know so little about the impact slaying the archdemon had on you."
"I doubt it's anything so dire. I probably just picked up a bug in that filthy city." She yawned again and began to pull her boots on. "Where's Aeryc?"
Zevran scowled, yet to forgive her for her impulsive mercy. "Emptying the contents of his stomach at the base of a most ill-used tree, as he has been all morning," he said with a touch of disgust. "Sobriety will be hard fought for that one. It may be a kindness just to put him out of his misery. We can bury him here, with a lovely view of the coastline."
"Wow. Tell me what you really think."
"He tried to rob us blind while we slept, my dear. Forgive me if I see no value in such a specimen."
She smirked at him and struggled to her feet, dusting off her backside. "As opposed to someone who took coin to murder me on the road?"
Zevran rolled his eyes in annoyance, only half teasing. "One mistake and no one allows you to forget it." He shook his head. "Suit yourself, Warden, but I have my doubts he will prove overly useful. Particularly in light of his charming demeanor. You are not known for your patience, you know."
The subject of their conversation stumbled their way then, and with a look of pure dislike Zevran shrugged one shoulder and moved to break up the camp. Aeryc looked even worse in the harsh light of the morning than he had the night before, haggard and grey with dark circles under his eyes. When he walked up Elissa was quick to step back and upwind of him. "You need a bath."
"Do I now?" he asked, exhaustion chasing away the bitterness that growled in every syllable the night before. He only sounded tired.
"Yes. My brother doesn't abide slovenliness in his hall, and I'm not one to sit and pretend you don't reek for the rest of the ride. There's a stream a short distance from here. Make some effort to clean yourself up, and when we reach a town we'll see about getting you some new clothes so we can burn those."
He didn't protest. "Where are we going, if I'm permitted to ask?"
"To Highever, but for a short time only. We have to press on to the new compound and see what must be done there to get the Order back on its feet."
"The Grey Wardens have a compound outside of Denerim?"
"The new king gifted us with Amaranthine." She left the answer deliberately vague, not wanting to think too much about the daunting task ahead of her just yet. Aeryc unwittingly provided her with the distraction she needed when he snorted, a purely derisive sound that he made no effort to disguise.
"What?"
"New king," he said. "Usurper, more like. They're talking about him from here to Orzammar, and how he stole his throne. Some arrogant child who imagines himself great just because King Maric tumbled a serving wench once. He murdered Teyrn Loghain, right in front of our poor queen, and killed Ferelden's only hope just to get his hands on a crown. Now we're just supposed to—"
He didn't get any further than that. Rage swelled in her chest and before reason or logic could get a word in edgewise, Elissa whirled on the wretch and punched him in the face.
Hard.
Though she had never before grown quite cocky enough to try and take on a full grown man who probably weighed twice as much as she did, her body had become as hard as tempered steel over the course of the past year, and Aeryc was still mead-sick and stumbling. He dropped like a sack of grain, cursing and rubbing his jaw. Zevran stopped, one hand resting on his hip to study the figure lying in the dust before he looked up at Elissa through his eyelashes without changing his stance, a knowing half smile curling his lip. She shot him a dirty look that conveyed exactly where she'd like him to stuff that smug smile and planted one foot on either side of Aeryc, bending down to grip his collar.
"That child is a warrior and a senior Grey Warden of Ferelden," she said, low and deadly serious. "One who spent a year of his life bringing an end to the Blight while you moaned and sulked and rolled in your own piss. You show him the proper respect, or I'll skin you myself."
Aeryc blinked and gave his head a shake as if to clear it. "I'll take that bath now."
"I thought you might."
Elissa heaved a sigh once he was out of sight and rubbed her eyes, not particularly wanting to look at Zevran. "I know," she said, gathering up her belongings. "I know. That was really stupid."
"I have always believed that violence becomes you, my friend," he said with a muted wave of his hand. "I do find myself curious, however, regarding the trigger for that rather stunning display. Are we defending young Alistair now? Because it would not do to be unclear—"
"Oh, shut up, Zevran."
…
The terrain grew more rocky and uneven, forcing them to dismount and walk the horses for the remainder of the afternoon. Elissa looked back at Aeryc often, trying to discover another piece to the ever-expanding puzzle he presented her, but he remained silent and withdrawn, nursing what had to be a crippling hangover as he forced one foot in front of the other. A bruise was blooming brilliantly at the curve of his jaw, increasing his already sour appearance, and guilt gnawed at her insides that he had already fallen victim to her foul temper.
She usually didn't have such a difficult time controlling herself. It was everything else, the increasing number of burdens that continued to pile up on her weary shoulders with no end in sight. She'd have to apologize to him, later when they could have a word in private.
Elissa stopped abruptly at the familiar churning of blood somewhere near her midsection, pulling her towards the east. "Uh oh."
Zevran had traveled with her long enough to recognize the signs, and he stopped as well, reaching for the handles of his deadly sharp, poison-coated blades rather than the less impressive long daggers he had been using thus far. "How many?" he asked with a glance back at Aeryc, who looked slightly confused.
"Three," she answered, concentrating. "No… four. I can't get a solid feel for them. They must have a caster with them." She drew her weapons with a sound a frustration. "I don't much like the idea of a magic user blasting us from the safety of the trees when we charge in. I wish Alistair…"
But she wasn't going to finish that thought.
She crouched low, signaling towards the copse of trees that the pull was calling from, and Zevran moved ahead, rapidly and thoroughly disappearing into the vegetation. Elissa tossed Aeryc a sheathed sword that had been strapped to her saddle – a particularly fine weapon she had intended to gift to her brother. It would certainly serve them better here. "Follow me in," she said. "And pay attention."
Aeryc moved no where near as quietly as she did, but she had fought at Alistair's side long enough that she knew how to work around that particular shortcoming. She lowered her voice and motioned him closer, forcing him to bend his head so she could whisper in his ear. "Wait for Zevran's signal."
She left him there, ducking into the shadows of the trees. The darkspawn had settled into the copse, it seemed—she recognized the signs they had been there for some time. Strange monuments and totems dotted the landscape, the trees appearing warped and twisted under the garish ornaments. She revealed herself only long enough to wave Aeryc nearer before once again melding into the shadows, waiting for Zevran to make his move.
It didn't take long. She heard the whistle of the dagger a split second before the hilt was protruding from the base of a hurlock's skull, and when the darkspawn whirled around in confusion she was behind them, blades flashing. Aeryc crashed through the trees, increasing their confusion, and Zevran dropped down into the fight, right behind the emissary, his daggers a blur of motion as he fought to keep the monster too busy to gather a spell. It was an effective ambush, leaving the darkspawn no almost no time to defend themselves, and the genlock she was fighting dropped at her feet within moments.
The air thickened and darkened around her.
Elissa's momentum was stopped utterly when the magic closed in on her, freezing her in place. She could see now the shadow of the fifth, undetected darkspawn coming to her from a wall of darkness, its ghastly laughter rumbling as she hovered a foot off the ground, choking and vulnerable. Zevran saw her, but was helpless to come to her aid, taking on two of the creatures himself, and Aeryc was having far more trouble than he should have been. Her vision wavered, her lungs frozen and useless.
She didn't realize she was hearing the sound of running feet until a newcomer rushed into the fray, sword drawn and ready as he jumped into the fight with a war cry, driving his sword into one of the genlocks closing in on Zevran. The assassin didn't pause long enough for surprise to show—he seized the opportunity the new fighter provided to spin on his heel and throw another dagger. It stuck deeply into the emissary's shoulder, shattering its concentration, and when Elissa hit the ground she wasted no time in gripping her sword and stabbing upward, sinking her blade into the soft flesh of its belly.
Zevran was there then, dropping to his knees beside her. "Elissa?"
"Remind me to recruit a Templar," she choked, and Zevran chuckled in sheer relief.
"Most assuredly. That was slightly more excitement than I prefer so early in the day." He reached out and helped her to her feet. "We must thank our dashing friend, I think. After we assure ourselves that he is not another thief, of course."
Aeryc rolled his shoulder, cursing beneath his breath beside them. "I'm off balance," he said, his voice low and embarrassed by his poor display, faintly bewildered that he was so long out of practice. "I'm a shield warrior."
Elissa sighed. Of course he is. "We'll see about getting you one, then." She dug around in the pouch at her belt and pulled out an old mana potion, dumping the contents into the leaves at her feet before handing the empty vial to him.
"Darkspawn blood," she said at his confused look. "One vial. It's your kill—go collect it."
"Can I ask what for?"
"No." She eyed the nasty gash on his arm before handing him a healing potion, as well. "And drink that."
She raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she glanced around for the fighter who aided her rescue. He was a short distance away, wiping the blade of his sword clean on the grass.
He was easily one of the most handsome men she'd ever laid eyes on, with black hair that fell casually over his forehead in soft waves, tussled from the fight, and cornflower blue eyes. His features were so perfect they might have seemed almost girlish were it not for the strong chin and various nicks and scars on his face.
"Maker's breath, but you two can move," he said happily when Elissa and Zevran approached him, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. "I thought I'd lost you good yesterday."
"Who are you?" she asked, crossing her arms, not entirely ready to trust a strange man on the road just yet, even if he had helped them.
"Jaedan Alston, formerly of Denerim, I'm hoping."
"Why formerly?"
"Well, I will be if you're going to make me a Grey Warden."
Elissa and Zevran shared a glance. "Come again?" the assassin muttered dryly.
"I served under Sergeant Kylon during the battle of Denerim. I was there when you and the new king rushed Fort Drakon." There was something very much like hero worship shining in his eyes, and Elissa shifted uncomfortably. "I've never seen anything like that. I told myself right there that if we lived through it, that was who I wanted to be. So, here I am."
Aeryc looked at Zevran and Elissa sharply, realization dawning in his eyes. Elissa hadn't bothered to enlighten him just yet on who she and Zevran really were.
Well, he knew now.
"What does Kylon say about you abandoning your post?" she asked Jaedan.
He shrugged. "He was a little miffed at first—you know the Sergeant—or I should say Captain, now. The king promoted him just before I left. He's always hard up for good fighting men and hates it when he has to hand one over to someone else, but I said I wanted to join the Wardens and he just let me go. I've got the proper papers, releasing me from his service and everything."
Elissa smiled to herself, silently thanking Kylon in her mind as she accepted the sealed letter Jaedan handed her with nothing more than a cursory glance at it. "Are you sure you know what you're asking for? Once you become a Grey Warden, there's no turning back."
"Yep," he said with an easy grin. "Look, I've heard the rumors about people who are called to join the Grey Wardens and aren't ever seen again. But they don't always come home when the ride to war, either, do they?" He shrugged. "I'll take my chances, if you'll have me. It'll be a damn sight better than wasting away in Denerim, playing guard at the Gnawed Noble."
Zevran's eyes darted to her momentarily, dancing with barely concealed mirth. Can we keep him?
She didn't answer at first, looking the soldier over critically, but he'd already proven he could handle himself, and Elissa was quickly beginning to have her doubts that her first recruit would even survive the Joining. She was a little shocked as the callous thought flitted through her mind, but if the Wardens were to flourish, she had to be practical in this.
She was beginning to develop a grudging new respect for Duncan.
"Aeryc," she called out at last. "Do you still have the vial from that healing potion?"
"I do."
"Give it to our new friend here and tell him what he needs." She turned away, shaking her head as she headed back to the horses. "I guess we get to see what you've got, Jaedan Alston."
Zevran smiled and made to follow, leaning in to mutter teasingly, "Have I ever expressed how endearing I find your penchant for collecting people?"