SEVEN

I was becoming quite accustomed to the restless sleep that came with being a warden. Still, weariness hung heavy after the break of dawn drug me from my half-sleep. Morrigan sat upright, already configuring her dark hair into its updo. I gave her a wordless nod in greeting, standing myself and retrieving the clean clothes we had gathered. Sliding into the new tunic and pulling up a pair of trousers, silently cursing my sluggish movements. I buckled myself back into my leathers, scrunching my nose at the smell. They definitely needed cleaning. Rot and filth were burrowing into the cracks in the hardened leather.

Morrigan simply stated that she would wait outside while I gathered the others. My hound, who I had finally settled on naming simply "Wolf," followed obediently at my heel, yawning as we moved to the room that Aedan and Cullen shared. I knocked quickly before pushing open the door, greeted with Cullen strapping on his armor and Aedan hunched over a paper, scrawling away at it.

"Letters to a long lost lover?" I tease easily, even though I know he left no one behind. He offered a short chuckle, shaking his head.

"To my brother," he corrected, turning to regard me. "I have yet to actually find him, but it brings me small comforts to write him either way."

I nodded, giving a small smile. I turned my focus on Cullen, who had yet to say a word, only silently adorned his armor. I could see now how his frame did seem too small for the armor, as though he was sunken in on himself. My chest ached, but I didn't let my eyes linger too long on him.

"We'll grab breakfast before we head out," I started, shifting my weight on my feet. "I just have to gather Sten, and then we'll be ready."

He gave me a short nod, adjusting his chestplate, not paying me much mind. Sten was easy to grab, as he was already awake as well. Alistair was still fast asleep, so I stayed quiet as I ushered Sten downstairs. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen, so I assumed she was outside doing… well, something that suited her wants. Sten stood by the door, his massive form seeming to intimidate any patrons that may have questioned us. Cullen was leaning over a bowl of stew, which looked uniformly grey and rather lumpy. I swallowed thickly before sitting across from him.

"How is it?" I asked, eying the stew with an arched brow. He looked up at me, eyes seeming to search my face for something.

"Quite bland," he answered, offering a twitch of one corner of his mouth. Even the slight motion made him seem so much younger, less haunted. I felt feather light in my stomach at the notion that he could be somewhat at ease. "Very true to Fereldan cuisine."

"I'll try to cook more flavorful meals on the road, then," I stated, responding with a smile of my own. "A home recipe, maybe, if I can find the ingredients."

"And where would that be?" he asked. I could help my initial elation at him furthering the conversation, but it quickly turned to a stab of anxiety as I realized my blunder. "Home, that is. Yours."

It was a semblance of the stuttering, flustering dialogue I remembered, but his face didn't hold the shy, unsure adoration that it had shown my Inquisitor when I had played the game in which he featured. His hadn't been the only romance I had taken part in, not by a long shot. I had played many times, each time choosing a new object of affections. My favorite had been Cassandra, in fact, but it was dampened by her own sexuality and the fact I couldn't romance her as a woman. I shook the thought away, though, reminding myself this was life now, not a game that I could wishfully change and manipulate to my desires. His awkward words weren't the result of suppressed affections, no. He was evaluating me, I realized. Dissecting my reaction, trying to discern my own character.

I can't imagine what conclusion he may have gathered from my bumbling answer. "Oh, here and there," was the pathetic answer I managed. Quick on my feet though I may have been in combat, I was not with fabricating lies and excuses. I only hoped he would surrender the topic if I managed to convey my discomfort with it in the proper manner. How was I to actually explain to anyone where I was from, as it would raise questions as to how I had gotten here, if they even believed me. So, I blundered further with my less than tactful evasion, not meeting his slightly narrowed amber gaze. "I've never stayed in one place long enough to consider it home, mostly I just consider home to be with my family. I only really settled when I started my studies."

It wasn't technically a lie; my family had moved around quite a bit. I'd never fully understood why, but my father's work resulted in a lot of movement. He was a researcher, his big project being something that apparently dragged him all across the country. For most of my childhood I had actually stayed with Drew's family, as her mother and mine had been close friends.

"What were your studies?" he continued to prod, still measuring me with his gaze.

"Psychology," I gave, but at his furrowed brow I had to wonder if that field of study existed in Thedas. Clarification seemed to be needed. "The inner workings of the mind, so to speak. Why people do the things they do."

"And what makes them tick?" It was bordering on accusation, and I couldn't help but flinch. He noticed and his hard gaze softened in the slightest bit. He didn't retract the statement however, so I had to gather my words for a response.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," I relented, chewing on the inside of my cheek. "It is technically part of the study, though not something that I would choose to practice." I carefully levelled my gaze at him, venturing to challenge him, just slightly. "Just as I could conscript you to join the ranks of the wardens in more than just your sword, but I choose not to."

He leaned back, sighing and averting his searching gaze from my face at long last. Thankfully, he dropped his line of questioning, instead stating that he had finished his meal, and that if I did not intend to eat, then we should be on our way. Though I was sure I really couldn't afford to skip a meal and be choosy, I chose to not take part in the unappetizing grey stew that seemed to be the only item on the menu here. I rose from my chair as my only response, tilting my head in silent beckoning for us to be on our way. Sten followed suit, taking up a silent vigil at my back. It settled me slightly, as I was highly confident in the silent loyalty he would give me. Any way the story went, his betrayal would never be a surprise, he would declare a duel first, and either strike you down, or swear an unending loyalty, no matter his opinions of your choices.

Morrigan was outside, chastising Wolf, who had seemed to have grown fond of her. He was currently crouching and whining at her as she tried to shoo him away with small bouts of distaste. He tilted his wide head from side to side, whimpering and whining, occasionally taking a small step towards her, only to retreat back when she waved her arms at him.

"Go away, you foul mutt!" she hissed out, shooing him once more as he tried to garner her praise. "You reek of soured excrements!"

I found myself giggling at the sight. "He only wants your approval," I told her before giving a sharp, short whistle and beckoning Wolf to my side. He gave a large, slobbery dog-grin up at me, his eyes shining with intelligence. "Good boy," I cooed to him, scratching behind his ears.

"He dropped a rabbit carcass at my feet when you were on your adventure," she informed me cooly, glaring daggers at my hound.

"He was only trying to feed you," I chided, shaking my head at her. "He meant well."

"He should keep his well intentions to himself."

I let out a huff, giving up the small debate over my dog and settling a look over my assigned group. An interesting conglomeration of personalities, that was certain. I waved everyone around me, ignoring the snide remarks Morrigan made about the close concession of bodies, and spread the map I had been suited with in front of us. It was a much more detailed version than the crude depiction Aedan had etched into the dirt the night before. It depicted a few trade routes and roads that could be taken, along with the smaller, less defined hiking trails that had been used on some occasion or another. As I traced my fingers across the lines, murmuring with my group about which to take, it occured to me that this was nothing like any of the maps I had ever seen in game. The lines skidded between thick and thin, a tactical, artist hand shown in the light brush demarcations and subtle shades and shapes of the mountains, rivers, and forests. The parchments was heavy and thick and crisp under my fingertips. Small, subtle ridges brushed against my skin. We finally decided on a hiking trail that looked to link up with some small caravan route close to South Reach, crossing through the Bannorn.

With the map tucked back inside my pack, I led us out, hoping that I kept my bearings straight with the cardinal directions. It was starkly apparent that I had taken on the role of leader in our much smaller band of misfits, and therefore it word be my duty to follow the chosen route. I found myself giving silent thanks to gods I had never believed in for the fact that Drew's mom had enlisted us both in the girl scouts during our childhood years. The few survival skills I owned were only due to the troop. Memories flitted across my mind as we set out on our trek, Drew's blonde curls bouncing in front of my face, her gap-toothed grin laughing at me as I shifted unsure of the prank she wanted to play on the counselors. The warmth of a campfire and the aroma of roasting marshmallows that I didn't even like. My chest began to ache for home, for the light, safety, and warmth the memories teased and baited me with. I hadn't stopped much to think of home through my travels thus far, but with the demon's illusion fresh on my mind, I couldn't stop the reminiscing now.

With each step my chest ached more and more and I didn't seem to realize when the sun that had risen to its peak began to dip down beyond the horizon and our legs began to creak with each movement, stomach beginning to rumble with hunger. It was Cullen who finally suggested we stop and find a place to set camp for the night. It was Morrigan who found a secluded clearing which seemed a prime spot to set up. It was Sten who started the fire, plucking stones from around the area, creating a safe pit to start a tinder. Falling into a sort of rhythm, I began to erect my tent, finding large branches to use and unloading skins from my pack, throwing them over the delicately latched together branches.

The silence that fell over us signalled that it might be a longer trek than I had initially considered.


These chapters always look so much longer when they aren't in the web format. It makes me feel a bit inadequate to slave over one to see it stretched and reduced like this. Might have to put a bit more effort into lengthening them.

At any rate, I figured out most of the holes I had in my planning for this story, so hopefully it moves along smoothly to my endgoals for it.