Upon the Morrow – Part 2
I froze in my tracks upon seeing him standing there in the yard. He was wearing his old splintmail, not his normal heavy plate. In his hands he held a pike, and seemed to dance around a target dummy he'd set up. Training. Of course. Or trying to clear his mind of this Landsmeet insanity. Probably both.
"Maker's Breath!" he exclaimed, cutting his pike-twirling move short. "You look like the entire Darkspawn horde just appeared inside Arl Eamon's estate. Need some help with them?" Alistair's face sported an ear-to-ear grin with matching smiling eyes.
"We can speak later, Alistair," I told him. "Please, come no closer. Right now I need to be alone." His expression quickly turned to one of concern.
Please, Maker, let him not see the tears, please.
"Alone?" He looked genuinely hurt by my request. "Love, we've been at each other's sides since Ostagar. More than just sides since after we lifted the Zathrian's werewolf curse." He tried to smile at his own joke, but it was a pale thing. Great, looks like I've gone and set this whole blasted mess off on the completely wrong foot. "Of course, if you insist I won't stop you…" he replied, ever the gentleman. "But if you head out into the market, I will follow you. The streets of Denerim are too dangerous right now for me to consider doing otherwise."
"Did you miss all those battles where you were "at my side"? I can handle myself."
"Of course I didn't. The point is, we've saved each other's lives countless times. I'm not about to let you go out there without my shield to protect you. The same way you would not let me go out by myself, without your daggers to watch my back and stab our foes in the kidneys." He started walking toward her.
"Alistair, PLEASE! Come no closer," I pleaded, my voice cracking and betraying me. "We can speak more once I've… had time to compose myself." And had a few tankards of ale to boot, to help loosen my treacherous tongue.
He stopped, and his hurt and confused look intensified. "Your desire is my command…" he replied, but not with his normal playful inflection. I hurt him. I suppose I should get used to the feeling.
He turned and slammed his pike into the dummy. Again, again, again he smashed it.
I did not linger to ruminate on the dimming fate of the straw-and-wood man.
After getting well enough away from the Arl's estate, I kept to the shadows to ensure that Alistair would not find me. I leaned against a stone wall and slumped to the ground, finally letting the sobs and tears consume me. I did not care who saw me or who walked by.
But I should have.
"By the Maker! You're the last one I expected to find when I heard such sobbing, Warden."
Startled, my one hand instinctively reached for my dagger, and the other wiped my eyes. I saw a Chantry sister before me, kneeling down to try and catch my gaze. She shied back when she saw my reach.
"My… my apologies, Sister. I did not know who approached."
"If you did not have those instincts, you would not be a Grey Warden. The same as I would not be a Chantry sister, if I did not have the instincts to seek out those who are hurting and try to help them." She smiled, and offered me her hand. "Though I must say, if you wanted to avoid my notice, you should not have huddled down against the outside of the Chantry wall." She grinned at I accepted her hand and came to my feet. "Please, come with me. The Chantry is closed, but with me as your escort you would be welcome to respite in the Sister's common room. Especially after the service you've done for our Chantry by recovering those scrolls."
"You're…. I'm sorry, your name has completely slipped my mind." I felt stupid, and even more embarrassed. The Sister had been so thrilled when I'd given her those ancient ciphers… and I had taken my reward and headed out, not giving her a second thought.
"It is of no concern, Warden. My name is Sister Justine. And, if I may be so bold, I never did catch your name…"
"My name is Tabris. Please, lead the way."
The Chantry Sister's common room was round, with a high ceiling and a large fireplace on the north wall. Sturdy yet comfortable couches were placed perpendicular to it, a knee-high table situated between the two. Tables and chairs circled the edges of the room. Sister Justine led me to one of the couches and bade me sit. She then gestured to one of her sisters and spoke briefly with her before sitting down on the opposite couch.
"So, Warden…. I mean, Tabris. I do not want to pry into your affairs, but know that I am here to offer a friendly ear if you so desire it."
"My troubles are of a… political nature." I tried to keep my face stoic, hoping that the idea of politics would sour Sister Justine's interest. The other sister returned, bearing two cups of tea, of which she offered me one. Not the ale I was looking for, but it figures that in my wishes for a drink the Maker provides me with tea. I took the tea with a polite nod. There was a small handkerchief on the teacup's saucer, which I thanked the sister for and used to dry my eyes and face.
"How strange," Sister Justine reflected, after a sip of tea. "Politics can bring men to such tears, but a woman? The only thing I know of to bring on such a fit would be tied to matters of the heart, not a matter of whose bum sits on which oh-so-important seat." She grinned. "Especially a Blight fighting, Darkspawn slaughtering Grey Warden…."
"Sometimes, Sister, they are one in the same." They must teach face reading in the Chantry. Maybe Leliana taught them all. "Especially when one is a mere elf in love with a king's bastard."
"Ahhh…. I see you did not lie to me then." She tittered. "My dear, you must admit, the songs and tales they could write about the Last Two Grey Wardens, bound to one another on the battlefield and off…"
"A fine tale for telling around a late-winter fire, singing of lives and times gone past. Not so romantic when it's happening to you." I sighed. "And, I may add, we are not the last Grey Wardens. There are others. We are just the last two in Ferelden."
"That is all that matters in the songs dear… but I digress. Do not mind me… if you wish to talk about it, the Chantry is sworn to secrecy with the burdens that are relieved onto it in confidence."
Did I? Did I really wish to talk about it with this sister? The daylight had been fading when she brought me inside; I did not dare miss my chance to talk to Alistair before the sun returned. I sipped my tea again. "I do not wish to burden you with matters of state, kind Sister. I need to return and speak with Alistair before the night is out. Could you… could you tell me what you've decoded so far from the ciphers I brought you?"
Sister Justine nodded, and went into a lengthy explication as to what she had found, and what steps she needed to take to discover more from the scrolls. I sipped my tea, listening enough to be polite. When my tea was gone, I stood. "Thank you for your hospitality Sister, especially in these dark times."
"It is nothing, Warden Tabris. This Chantry is still deeply indebted to you. It was a small way to help start paying back some of that debt." She stood as well, and headed with me to the Chantry's side door. "If you'd like, you're welcome to sit in our back garden for a bit before you leave. The night air may help clear your mind as well. Stay as long as you like, and no one will bother you. Much safer than crying yourself into hysterics in the middle of the road."
It was an odd thing to say, especially after it seemed that her welcome here had expired. But I still wasn't sure if I was ready to face Alistair yet. "You are too kind, far to kind, Sister. I thank you deeply for the offer."
Sister Justine opened up a thick wooden door, which headed out into a small manicured garden. The sisters must grow night-blooming jasmine out there, because the air was perfumed with it. The garden's centerpiece was a beautiful marble fountain, with benches built into its rounded sides.
On one of those benches sat the anonymous sister…. and my shield. My shining shield in the darkness. The sister bowed and excused herself, and Sister Justine faded into the shadows as well as any street-born rogue.
Alistair stood. "So, my dear, are you going to explain to me what this is all about? Or are we going to communicate through Chantry sisters going forward?"
The tears started again. Oh, you giant, naive, wonderful fool. How do you think I shall send you letters from the four corners of Thedas, if not through the Chantry's messengers?
Everything turned into a blur, and the only reason I did not fall to the ground was thanks to a giant pair of battle-hardened arms.
"I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry…" Alistair repeated himself several times, as I sobbed. We stood there, in the Chantry garden, for longer than I care to recount now. "I don't know what I did, but please, talk to me. We shall make it right."