Big, super huge thanks to my friend Lauren (i.e reason-for-living) for beta'ing this chapter really fast for me. And of course, thanks to everyone who's fave'd, alerted and reviewed this story, I'm so glad you guys actually like it enough to keep reading, and I hope everyone enjoys this chapter.
Dragon Age and all associated revenues belong to Bioware.
"I don't believe you…" I whispered, watching the flames dance before my vision, trying to find some semblance of equilibrium again. It was like my world had been tossed onto its side and no one was going to help me move it back because everyone thought I was fine.
What started out as the simple pleasure of being an unknown has become my only protection; if Alistair knew; or if Morrigan found out and told him?
"I don't believe in you, anymore…" I spoke yet again, my eyes turning from the fire to watch Alistair's sleeping form, Morrigan was on the other side of the fire, sound asleep, her breathing slow and even.
I turned my gaze skywards, staring up at the stars, trying to put my life back into order, "You left me, daddy…" It had taken me all day to come to this conclusion, but that's the part that stung me the absolute most. He had been willing to leave me atop that tower and make up some story to Anora as to why her husband and her sister weren't coming home.
But I could fix this, I just knew I could.
Hearing a small whine from my side, I glanced over to the Mabari, laying there watching me with those incredibly bright brown eyes. We had found him earlier in the day, running from a pack of Darkspawn, I was assuming he was one of the Mabari from Ostagar, but I could be wrong, he may have even been that one Daveth collected those herbs for back in the Korcari Wilds, now wouldn't that be the craziest thing.
I had taken to affectionately calling him Florence.
After walking with him for the rest of the day, everyone had decided on stopping and continuing on in the morning towards Lothering.
I needed substance, I knew that, I needed something to do, something to divert my attention away from Ostagar, and I had that, so I just couldn't understand why I was worrying. I had a whole Blight to fend off with nothing but a Templar, a Witch and a Mabari!
"Why do I care? Why didn't I suspect this…?" I asked myself quietly, keeping my tone low and nearly silent, as too not awaken either of my two companions.
Another whine from Florence and I turned my attention back to him, running my hand through the soft fur of his neck, smiling at him, "I know - I know…I should quit moping…" He perked up a bit, and licked my hand, implying that's exactly what he meant.
He might've well as said, "Be happy! At least you've got me!"
"Layleth…?"
I glanced over at Alistair who was slowly rousing himself, his hair sticking up from bedhead, his eyes bleary, he cocked his head at me, almost…Mabari like…
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you, Alistair?"
"What're you doing up, Layleth?" He avoided my question with one of his own, crawling out from his bedroll to sit beside me, near the fire. I had to avert my eyes to keep from staring at bare-chest. Couldn't he put on a shirt, at least? I mean, obviously I'm a mess: I don't need to be mesmerized by your abs…
"Just…thinking about Ostagar…"
He let out a heavy sigh, nodding somewhat. We hadn't had a chance to really talk about anything since Flemeth's hut. I leaned backward, letting my back rest against the exposed root of the wayward pine tree we were camped out under, in the little trough beneath the massive toppled tree. It provided good cover.
"I…I still feel in shock, I suppose. I keep waiting for Duncan to walk over, tell me to get myself ready to go for whatever, but…then it's like a fresh wave of grief all over again…" He whispered after a minute of both of us trying to collect our thoughts.
"My father was there, at Ostagar…" What was I doing? Why in all of creation would I say such a thing? Part of me desperately wanted to come clean now, to get the curse of my parentage off my chest and just get on with my life once Alistair proclaimed me his enemy. The other part of me was the part that was winning, telling me to shut up.
"Oh Maker..." Alistair's eyes widened in what must've been concern for my supposed grief of losing my father to the Darkspawn, but I shook my head.
"I don't think he even knew I was there, Alistair. I…he loved me…but…not as much as he could've, does that make sense?" There was a long pause between us, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, Alistair was trying to organize his thoughts and I appreciated that. That he was willing to take a second to think before he spoke, that wasn't going to try and blow sunshine up my skirt.
"It makes perfect sense…you aren't the only one who's dealt with that. For me though, it wasn't so much my father…I never knew him – it was my mother who sent me away to become a Templar…" I felt guilty for allowing him to believe a lie, when he himself was willing to give me the truth.
"Oh well though, right? It's just strange, knowing that…he's not there anymore." I said after a few minutes of companionable silence, trying to break the heaviness that had settled onto us. I didn't like it, it felt cloying.
"I'm sorry, Layleth, and I know that's the last thing you want to hear from anybody, but I am sorry, and you can always talk with me…"
I smiled at him, and playfully punched his arm, "You never told me what woke you up."
"Bad dreams…"
"What kind?"
"The Bad kind, duh; didn't I just say that?"
"…Is it a Warden thing?"
"…Yeah…"
I just nodded once, looking back at the crackling fire, slowly dying down. Picking up a nearby stick, I prodded the firewood, sending up a flurry of sparks and renewed flames, lending us more heat and warmth. Neither of us said anything for a while, we just sat there, staring into the flames, remembering those who had come before us.
I would've thought Alistair had fallen asleep, had his knee not bumped mine, "Hey, get some sleep, Layleth, I'll be up for a bit, I'll watch over…everything," I smiled, really smiled, even if it was only for just a second, because I could've sworn he meant to say 'over you.'
"I couldn't sleep if I wanted too…and that's okay. I'll survive, once when I was still in the War College, we had these drill runs out in the Brecillian forest, because as I'm sure you know, Gwaren is on the other side of the Brecillian, anyway, one time, my drill inspector sent myself out with two others, and I had to stay awake for four days straight. Not even a wink of sleep, so yes, I am a hard-ass, and I can take it!"
"Language, Layleth, and that's pretty impressive. Not as impressive as my 6 day run without sleep while I was training to be a Templar…" A knee-jerk reaction was to call bullshit, why would a Templar need to stay up for that long, but – like Alistair had done for me – I organized and thought before I spoke. I actually could see it once I thought about it.
They had to hunt Apostates, and Blood-witches, and if they had gotten a big head start, it wasn't like the Chantry was just like 'better luck next time', no, they sent out the Templars, and told them to hurry.
"I bet I could out-stay-awake you any day of the week, Templar…" I challenged, grinning at him, "And I refuse to believe 'ass', and 'bitch' are bad words, just so you know, so chastising me for those will get you nowhere. 'Shit' and 'fuck' I can see, but definitely not 'as…" I was cut off by Alistair's hand clamping over my mouth.
"…Did you hear that?" He asked, deadly serious, his eyes peering off into the darkness to my left. I stiffened, holding my breath. Where were my knives? Where had I put them? Oh shit, if we die because I didn't keep my blades close at hand…
Some watchman I was.
Alistair peered around me, his eyes narrowed, watching…no listening. After a moment, he dropped his hand with a sigh of relief, "Oh good, it was just your profanity…" He chuckled, completely dropping the ruse.
I punched him in the arm again…hard this time.
The Inn was a small one, a two story affair that smelled of spilled spirits, but seemed quite popular with the locals.
"We need a room, I refuse to sleep on the ground again," Morrigan huffed from behind me, her tone clearly indicating that she hadn't appreciated having to rough it, despite being raised in the woods. Made you think, didn't it?
"Fine…, but you're cooking…"
Her deflated sigh made me smirk, score one point to me, "Oh, very well!"
The inside was actually worse than the outside had been. Spirits were indeed spilled all over the place; it was cramped, and filled with sweaty people deep in their cups. But a wide variety of people decorated the interior, farmers, merchants, a few soldiers it looked like, and…a Chantry sister?
Too each her own, I suppose.
It was while Alistair and I were squeezing through the crowd towards the bar that we heard a voice cry, "Hey! Aren't those the two Grey Wardens!" We both froze, our eyes coming to rest on each other's. Oh hell.
Two of the soldiers blundered forth, their eyes stabbing icy daggers into my stomach, this was going to get very violent in about three minutes, and I hate bar-fights. While they can be fun, and I'm known to be proficient with a bar-stool, it's still a bad place for a battle to break out, especially if you miss your target and hit someone else. Then suddenly it's like the end of the world, with broken bottles and chairs flying all over the place.
I turned to Morrigan, who had worked her way through the crowd to get to us, and I prayed she could read my eyes enough to know that I blamed her for the soon-to-be carnage.
"Why hello, good sirs! My name is Alistair and this is a nameless barbarian queen, and that is our darkly tempting and very seductive guide!" I literally hit the heel of my hand to my forehead.
"I'm a 'nameless barbarian queen'?" I seethed, "And where's the diplomacy? We've talked about this before…"
"I am being diplomatic!"
"I'd hate to see you when you're trying to get us killed then!" I turned my attention back to the two soldiers, smiling as politely as I could manage.
"Why do you ask if we are Grey Wardens?"
"Teyrn Loghain has an order out to arrest all of the traitors! And we saw you, I saw you at Ostagar! You killed King Cailan!" The man roared, but I said nothing, staring at almost nothing. So it's come to this then, has it father?
"Gentlemen! Please, I'm sure there is no need for this result in any unpleasantness!" The Chantry sister of all people spoke up, coming to stand in between the soldiers and us. I wanted to push her out of the way and start in on the brawl that I knew was coming, but I bit my lip, keeping myself from swinging. It wouldn't do to pick at Alistair for lack of diplomacy and then right after, throw speech to the wind and open a barrel of kick-ass.
"Out of the way, sister, unless you wish to join them!" One of the soldiers growled.
"Well then…I suppose this ends one way, doesn't it?" She sighed, shaking her head as if this was a great waste.
"Alistair…pass me that stool…"
"I've been waiting to see this," He chuckled, passing said stool to me. Grinning darkly at the soldiers, I spun towards them, gaining momentum and I swung!
