Dislcaimer: see part one.
Chapter 4.
Leather boots brushes softly against scorched stone as Rowena shuffles down the corridor, an arm slumped around Zevran and Morrigan's shoulder as the witch scoffs and curses, dragging her along. Rowena stumbles after her as her limbs ached in protest of the harsh and rapid movements. Her head is throbbing and her ears ringing with pain.
"If you give me a moment" she grumbles, trying to muster enough strength to sound determined.
"We do not have a moment" Morrigan interruptes.
"What about-" Rowena stares "-the other prisoners, we can not just leave them here."
"Oghren and Leliana are freeing as many as they came. We do not have time to assist them. You are not well and have you forgotten about the darkspawn horde?"
"I fear she is right" Wynne sighes wearily, as if simply the prospect of agreeing with Morrigan is straining her more than the weight of supporting Alistair.
"How could Loghain lose? What happened?"
"Let us get you two out of here first and then sit down for a nice long chat," Zevran replies smoothly.
They make their way down darkened corridors, the prison is eerily silent. Plates and cups still sat on the tables, meals half-finished, and clothes strewn about. People had been in a hurry to leave.
"When did the guards leave?" Rowena asks.
"News about the army reached Denerim about three days ago. People have been scrambling to get away ever since." Wynne says.
They make their way out the main doors of the Fort without any difficulty, the guards having long ago abandoned their posts. The Fort itself looms empty and abandoned, shutters and doors left who can, had fled the city.
Oghren and Leliana waits for them outside the heavy main gates. Leliana is wringing her hands anxiously, fleeing to Rowena's side as soon as the Grey Warden steps outside. Leliana gives her friend a careful hug, before wrapping a cloak around Rowena´s shoulders and returning her daggers and armor. They walk quietly through the city.
Evidence of the flight is visible in the rest of the city as well. Carts overturned and the once valuable goods left behind. Even the shops and market stalls have been abandoned. She sees few dogs on leashes yelps and yowls and skinny cats prowl the streets. From a few dusky window she can see old faces pressed against the glass and women with children clutching at their skirts. Those too old or too burdened to flee have been left behind. They watches them pass with pale face and her heart swells with the thought of the fate that awaits them. As they make their way to the square, the mournful tones of the chantry bells cuts through the silence with its heavy tones. Maker, help them. Help us all.
Rowena blinks away the tears that threatens to spill and cranes her neck to look at the skies- to look at anything but those people. The sky is a heavy grey, with bright lines of blood red and orange-green streaking through the clouds as day was gave away from night. As if the Maker himself had decided to paint the sky an ominous warning of the Blight, she thinks.
"We got to get sodding movin´" the Oghren snorts, a wary undertone evident in his voice as he too glances at the sky before pushing down his visor, obscuring his worry behind his helmet.
"We need to hurry" Leliana says, offering Rowena her water bottle. She accepts it greedily, drinking heavily and not caring that the water is warm and stale.
"Where are we going?" Leliana asks, stealing a glance at Alistair who has remained silent ever since they were rescued. Alistair´s eyes darkens as he watches her, and Rowena can suddenly imagine his steely fingers pressed into her shoulders once more. She shakes her head, driving the thoughts away.
Where can we go? Denerim was Fereldren´s strongest fortress and now that is lost. No matter where we go, the Blight will follow.
"Soldier's Peak" Rowena says.
"It's going to take us at least four days to get there" Leliana says.
"What about-" Alistair protests"-what about Denerim, we cannot abandon the city! We can´t abandon the people that are still here!"
"I fear we have little choice, we need time to reorganize and Denerim is too large for us to defend." Rowena replies, painfully aware of how cool and calculated she sounds.
"We can´t just leave!" Alistair yells, gesturing to a row of houses. "There are still people in there. If we leave they will die!"
"If we stay we´ll all- die!" She balls her hands into fists, why must Alistair make her seem like the callous one. How can he not understand that there is nothing they can do for these people?
"We cannot possibly hope to hold the capital even if we could gather enough forces before the main body of the horde arrives." Zevran says, and though Rowena is thankful he comes to her support, it does little to calm Alistair. He grits his teeth and hunches his shoulders.
"How can you say that-"
"I say it because it is true" Rowena bites back "Denerim is too large and there´s..." she makes a vague gesture "-we need soldiers to defend it. Soldiers that we do not have. We could hold a stronghold but not city."
"We would have those soldiers, if you´d not lost at the Landsmeet."
Every syllable of his words is laced with venom and Leliana has to grab hold of her arm before she flies at him. How dare he, her mind rails. But Leliana´s grip is strong and the young bard leads her off. Alistair watches her, his face unreadable, but anger radiates off his stiff shoulders.
«What happened to Loghain´s army?» Rowena asks.
Wynne leanes heavily on her staff, looking thin and worn. Rowena wondered if it was the spirit that was draining her strength or if it was the thought of the impossible task before them all. She has to remind herself that Wynne is no stranger to the Blight. Wynne was also at Ostagar. She knows what to expect.
«They say Loghain´s host was separated by the rest of his forces and lured into an ambush. When Loghain fell his host broke and his men fled.»
«What about the dwarves, the elves and the mages?» Rowena asked. She had spent the past year trying to get them all to help fight the Blight.
«Loghain did not summon them-» Wynne replied.
"Why not?" she asks.
To that, Wynne cannot say.
So they at least, remain, she thinks. But for how long? When will the dwarves and mages seal their door to the Blight? How long will the elves linger before they flee the woods?
"Let's get going then" she says. Without a word they follow her through the market and the main gates, leaving Denerim behind. Not long.
Night has long since swept its nocturnal veil over the sky by the time the haggard band stops to rest for the first rest under a great, naked tree. Rowena slides carelessly onto the cold hard ground, resting her back against a rock. The sound of the slithering darkspawn echoes through her tainted blood that pounds through her head. She knows it will be another restless night. With a weary sighs she seats about cleaning her armor, hoping the menial task with clear her mind.
She sense Alistair moving towards her, more quietly and smoothly than his large frame should allow. She looks up at him, forcing a smile that goes unanswered. She swallows her heart back into her chest, and turns her focus onto scrubbing a particularly stubborn stain of blood out of her armor. Belatedly she realizes that it´s probably Arl Eamon´s blood and the thought makes her breath catch in her throat. With an angry sigh she tosses the armor aside and folds her arms across her chest, refusing to meet Alistair´s gaze as he lingers in front of her. Quiet and sullen.
Alistair shifts his weight from one foot to another, making to sit down next to her. But he looses his footing on a sharp rock and he half stumbles, half falls down next to her. For a moment he struggles to regain his composure and ending up sitting much closer to her than he had wanted. His arm pressed up against her and the sudden proximity made him vary of what had last happened when a gesture had been misinterpret. He can feel Rowena stiffen, and he holds his breath waiting for her to move- but she remains still, staring off at the rest of the party making their camp.
She seems comfortable enough, so Alistair does not to correct his mistake. With a deep, steadying breath he settles down next to her. Her arm feels warm against his, even through the metal armor he is wearing. Suddenly she leans, just slightly, against him, seeking warmth. The simple gesture makes his heart pound against his chestbone.
"I wanted to tell you, I am sorry."
Rowena must have looked confused, because Alistair clears his throat and turns slightly to look down at her. She twists her gaze away to avoid the weight of those brown eyes on hers.
"Sorry…?" she asks, her voice catching slightly in her throat.
"I should not have…" he tries, suddenly struggling to piece together his well-rehearsed speech. He wets his lips and starts again "...taken advantage of you."
"You didn't-". For a moment she thinks he is going to apologize for his outburst in Denerim. She´s not even considered that he would feel regret what had transpired between them in the prison cell. She glances away, unable to carry the weight of his brown eyes brimming with remorse.
Her mother had always imposed on her the importance of remaining chaste and ´unspoiled´for her husband, but when Alistair had kissed her she had wanted nothing more than to surrender everything to him. It had been warm and awkward, but for a moment she had felt safe, for the first time since Highever. Had it been some foolish girlish notion that it had been something...important? She cannot help but feel heartbroken that he does not share her feelings.
Suddenly their proximity feels uncomfortable and she scoots slightly away from him
"I just mean" he says, willing her gaze back to him "we need to focus on the Archdemon."
Rowena clears her throat " of course."
"Good" Alistair says, offering her a meek smile "I mean, it shouldn´t have happened-"
They pause, caught in that awkward moment.
Rowena finally breaks the silence by pushing herself up from the ground and offering a hand to help him up.
"No", she says "Nothing to talk about. We need to continue to Soldier's Peak."
He lingers for a moment, and Rowena is suddenly painfully aware that she wanted him to say something else. But he simply gives her a small nod before making his way over to Oghren and Wynne.
Rowena watches him depart. They´d been traversing all over Ferelden for almost a year and now, after a heated moment in a damned prison cell, she was suddenly starting to care. Stop being such a girl.
Once, a life-time ago, after she had experienced her first infatuation, as her mother called it, her mother had sat her down for a talk. Rowena had been a gangly fourteen year old girl with knobbly knees and long limbs that never seemed to want to cooperate. She had fidget, trying to hide the blush under her hair.
«Rowena, you are a Cousland and as such you have certain responsibilities in life», her mother had sounded old then, older then she should have been. «Cousland women do not marry for love, but we come to love the man we marry. That is why we must armor our heart against disappointments. Because there will be many disappointments in life, and if you do not steel yourself against them, they will ruin your.»
Rowena forces the voice of her mother out and reaches over to collect her armor again. Her gaze lingers for a moment on the Arl´s dried blood, before she scrapes it away.