Chapter 6: Truth is Never What it Seems
He awoke to the sound of singing, a sweet melody brushing his ears, coaxing him softly from sweet reverie. Not a bad thing to wake up to, certainly.
Adrian sat up, glancing about the camp sleepily. It was probably Leliana, though she must have jumped an octave higher than usual over night, and lost some voice lessons. Still, it was nice. Alistair was already up, cooking some of his delectable gray slop, an obvious favourite for the group of adventurers.
Sten was playing with Sanskrit, while Oghren was chatting up Wynne, obviously drunk despite the early morning. As much as the stressful life on the road was, what with struggling to unite Ferelden against the Blight, these quiet mornings were a welcome reprieve, even if the peace was only a shallow lie.
Zevran was whittling something, leaning against the tree while speaking with Leliana, undoubtedly trying to bed her, yet again. Wait, if Leliana was talking to the assassin, where was the singing coming from?
Adrian stood, arching his back while he stretched, freeing up cramped muscles from sleeping on the ground with nary a bedroll to be used. The entrancing singing still continuing, though none of his companions seemed to take note of it.
The only ones missing from the camp were Morrigan and Shale. Odd, considering the two were likely together, and because they didn't do much interacting. Adrian approached Alistair, questions on his mind.
"Alistair." The templar looked up, smiling. "Where's Morrigan and Shale? I had intended to take them with me into Redcliffe today."
"Good morning, Adrian. Sleep well?" Adrian nodded. "Good."
Silence. Adrian shifted on his feet, waiting for a reply to his questions. Eventually, slightly annoyed, he asked again.
"Where's Morrigan and Shale?" Alistair just looked up,faint smile still on his face.
"Are you going to eat one serving or two?"
"Answer my question, idiot. This isn't funny."
"Are you feeling alright?" Angered, Adrian strutted away, leaving Alistair to the cooking. The templar didn't even so much as lift his head when the mage walked away. Something was wrong...
"Sten!" He could count on the Qunari to give him a straight answer. The large man stood from where he was playing with the dog, face betraying no emotion, as usual. "Where's Shale and Morrigan?"
Sten kept staring, his face unchanging, a stick hanging down from his right hand. Angered, Adrian ground his foot into the earth, twisting it. They were messing with him! The Qunari stared at him slightly longer before turning back to the dog, wiggling the stick playfully.
"They won't answer you." The singing stopped, and Adrian spun, sensing another presence in the camp. A young girl sat, perch atop a lop to the side, swinging her feet slightly. She wore a short black dress, and a scimitar protruded from the log to her side. Her eyes seemed cold, unfeeling, but the coloration seemed most unusual. One yellow, one red.
"Why not? Who are you?" The girl hung her head, as if in defeat, as soon as the words left his lips. She stopped swinging her legs, gripping her scimitar in her right hand.
"I give up!" She jumped off, landing easily and stalking off, scimitar dragging behind her, leaving a trail of black soot behind it. "Every time it's like this! What purpose is there?"
Adrian was about to speak, but was interrupted by the girl when she struck the blade out, slicing Sten in two. Before he could react, the Qunari just fazed away, a shadow escaping from him.
"Why are you so weak, Father!" The girl was shouting at him, waving the sword wildly. Adrian was stunned, taking aback by the display, struggling to comprehend what was going on.
"Father? Who? Me?" Adrian dumbly pointed to his own chest, still struggling to keep his eyes off the spot Sten had been crouching a second before. "Is Sten... did you just...? Oh, Maker..."
"Maker?" The girl cocked a twisted grin, still staring at Adrian. "You would utter the name of a false god over that of your own daughter? Why is it that you always know of the Maker, yet never of me? Explanations upon explanations. I grow tired of this."
She slashed again, this time at the dog, who dissipated in a black haze. The young girl turned away, mumbling to herself, occasionally swinging her sword. Adrian knew she was angry, yet didn't understand why. He didn't understand any of it. What had seemed like a familiar scene in camp just a few seconds before now seemed fake, a lie. What was going on?
"Wait! Explain something to me." Adrian jogged up behind the girl. She didn't turn until he was just behind her, but when she did it came with the weight of the sword behind it. Adrian could barely dodge out of the way.
"I've had enough of explaining with you! Always questions! Always problems! You can never simply figure these things out on your own..." Adrian fell backwards, narrowly avoiding her strike, landing on his rear. Adrian stared up at the girl. Tears marred her dirt-streaked face, her shoulders slouched and sword hanging low to her side. "And you never remember me..."
"I... don't know who you are." Adrian regretted the words as soon as he said it. Instead of violently lashing out against him, the girl just stopped crying, lifting her head to the sky. The look on her face as she gazed at the clouds was one of complete defeat, a look one would have when all hope is lost. Forever. But it was odd. Adrian realized just then he couldn't see the clouds... it was like something was preventing him from doing so.
"I know. You've told me that hundreds of times. I've told you who I was just as many. There's never any results." The girl turned away, walking slowly towards the exit of the camp.
"Tell me again. Maybe this will be different." The girl didn't so much as look back.
"I fell for that a couple times. I cried and hugged you, and you told me all those reassuring words. Just lies. All of it. I've heard your promises never to forget more times than can be counted." The girl suddenly changed course, making a beeline to Alistair, who was just pulling out the bowls to pour his gray sludge in. The girl took off his head swiftly, his body falling over, dissipating before it even hit the ground.
Oddly enough, the soup suddenly changed from gray sludge to some appealing broth mix, and Leliana walked over with Zevran, mixing the soup with a ladle. Whatever this strange place was, it simply adapted in response to events around it.
"Why are you attacking my friends?" Adrian said they were, but he didn't feel any kinship. None of his companions felt like they had the life, the vigor they usually did.
"Don't you get it, Father? This isn't real. None of it is." Adrian was about to open his mouth, to respond when he was interrupted by the girl again. "Yeah, I know. You're about to say something to the effect of 'I had my suspicions. Please tell me more. Blah, blah, blah."
Adrian's words caught in his throat. She was right, somehow. How did she...
"How did I know?" The girl smiled, approaching Adrian again, sheathing her scimitar. "Because I've been in this situation, this exact memory, before. Many times. It always turns out the same way, no matter how I try to change it up. I've done some pretty drastic things, but none of it matters. You always acted the same, disbelieving way."
The girl smirked, as if some sarcastic memory had popped into her head. Shaking her head, she kept wandering about, an intense bored expression on her face.
"I even stripped your friends once. None of them noticed, but you sure did. I tried every surprise possible, just to jar you from this... I'm out of ideas now." There was no enjoyment in her voice, just a monotone sound Adrian was struggling to figure out. Wracking his brain, Adrian could come up with only one thought.
"Where's Mouse?" The girl stopped dead in her tracks, a disbelieving look on her face. "I normally can always feel him, ever watching me. Now I feel empty. That's not right. A demon can't leave my body overnight."
"That's only happened a couple of times so far." The girl smirked, shaking her head. "Nothing special. You're still lost and hopeless."
"Then why are you still here?" Adrian wasn't about to let this drop. Something was definitely off. "Why would my daughter be searching me out in memories?"
"Oh, well aren't you clever. Normally you don't figure this much out. Maybe you'll beat your last record, though most likely not."
"Why am I not in control of myself?" The girl was still shaking her head, eyes closed. Adrian thought he could see tears rimming her eyes again.
"Don't make me hope, Father. It's too painful. Mother always said to expect little from others, that only your own strength can lead you out of the dark. I always listened to her advice. It made so much more sense than anything else..."
"But you shouldn't even be born yet." The girl opened her eyes then, slowly turning to face Adrian. Her mouth was hanging open slightly, almost imperceptibly. "Morrigan and I performed that ritual only a small while ago."
"How long!" The girl rushed over to him, gripping Adrian's robes, pulling him downwards. Adrian was taken aback by the sudden ferocity she portrayed. A second earlier she had been quiet, detached and angered at something. Now she was animated and, dare he say, excited? "How long has it been since the ritual!"
Adrian thought... he didn't know. His first thought was that it was only a few nights past, before the final battle... the battle with the Archdemon... He... the Archdemon died? How long ago was this? How long has he been here? This setting with his companions could not have occured beyond the death of the Archdemon, which means... it already happened. This isn't real. He remembered the voice, the song. The song! It had silenced Mouse, but only for a short while. It was the same song he heard this girl sing as he awoke, the very one that kept him here, alive.
"Is Ferelden safe?" The girl nodded, tears were now pouring down her face. Adrian wrapped his arms around his daughter, pulling her close while her body wracked with sobs. She held him in a death grip, amusing Adrian slightly. "Mouse has me trapped here, in this cage of his own making." He felt a swift nod. "But he cannot destroy me, not with you here. You're keeping me alive." Another nod.
"Then it's time to find a way out of this prison."
ooo
What Myr didn't expect was for the 'robber' to be Saul. What she did expect was his quick reaction. His first fist knocked the dagger away, while the second stopped short of striking her face. And in the confusion the two elves at the door had drawn their weapons, the door slowly swinging shut.
"Myr?" Saul stared in disbelief at her.
"Saul?" An equal amount in her stared back at him. But then Myr got a better look at the elves.
"Rayne?" Myr recognized the dark hair, the emerald eyes. They spoke of lost memories, long before she was taken to the circle tower.
"Zevran?" Myr, Saul and Rayne stared at the fourth person who had been forced through the portal first by Rayne. "What? Everyone was saying everyone's names. I felt left out."
Myr collapsed onto a crate, heaving a great sigh. She had almost killed Saul, though the surprise of that revelation was far outweighed by her relief at seeing him again. As for Rayne and the other elf, Zevran, Myr had no words for her surprise.
"I didn't expect to find... you here. They took you away years ago, Miranda."
"Miranda? Not my name." Myr stared at Rayne, who still hadn't moved from her spot. Confusion gnawed at her, as long buried memories started to surface. The face of elves she grew up with, but not only that. Days of playing with Rayne, Soris and Shianni in the alleyways, nights in Valendrian's house, telling tales of the past brilliance of elves. It was odd, but still incomplete. Nothing revolutionary.
"Yes, it is." Rayne slowly approached, keeping tabs on Saul, who was uncertain what to make of the situation, while she stared at Myr. "I remember you. I thought they locked you in the Circle Tower after what happened. Maker, that was six years ago."
"What is this? Rayne isn't being threatening or angry to a newcomer? Quite odd." Myr noticed Rayne shoot a glance at Zevran, who looked away quickly, pointing at Saul, who still stood apart, aloof.
"What are you doing here?" Myr shifted in her seat as she spoke, gazing upwards at the two familiar faces and lone unknown one. Rayne didn't respond, instead focusing on Saul, who was keeping a hand on the saber at his waist, uncertain about the unfolding events around him.
"Who is he?" Oh. Right. Rayne hated humans. Forgot about that. Myr hurriedly stood, placing herself between Saul and Rayne, hoping neither would do anything stupid.
"A friend." Myr could feel Saul tensing behind her.
"What was the meaning of attacking me, elf?" Saul spoke slowly, his voice monotone, as usual. "I have done nothing to you." Saul took a threatening step forward, laying a hand on Myr's shoulder, ready to push her out of the way to get at Rayne and Zevran if need be. "Who were your companions that had attacked me? Why are there assassins after me?"
Zevran's ears perked up at that, a curious expression on his face.
"Assassins? My friend, tell me more." Zevran took a cautious step forward as well.
"I'm being hunted. You would know, wouldn't you? You're part of their group."
"Hunted by what?"
"Poorly trained men and women clad in black armor."Saul pushed Myr out of the way, advancing on Zevran, grabbing him by the top of the robe and dragging him upwards, coming to eye level with the man. "Why are they after me?"
"Saul! Stop it!" Myr grabbed his arm, straining to get him to let go.
"My friend..." Zevran coughed, gripped tight by the larger man. "I do believe... this is a misunderstanding. I've no part in it..."
Myr flinched as she heard the sound of unsheathing steel. Saul looked up as well, just as Rayne leveled her sword in front of her, menacing at him.
"Let him go." Rayne's eyes were fierce, much more so than Myr remembered. Rayne had always been a serious child, if Myr's vague childhood memories served. She was also highly protective. Saul simply stared, Zevran still pulled tight.
"I want answers. Who is after me?" Myr grew increasingly nervous. This situation was going downhill, fast. Zevran and Rayne seemed to be on one side, and both would likely cause Saul harm if he kept threatening them. Myr knew she had to stop this before things devolved further.
"I keep telling you, friend. As much as it pains me to admit as much, I'm not aware of your situation. Our encounter was chance, and chance alone. Nothing more." Zevran smiled widely. "So, if you would be so kind, would you mind letting me go? You're ruffling my robe."
They each stood there, unmoving, for a few tense moments, each staring at another. Saul, with Zevran hooked in his vicegrip. Rayne, glaring down Saul, while Myr glanced back and forth, uncertain what to do. Finally, the Cousland released his grip and Myr breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
"And here I was thinking I might just be a goner." Zevran stumbled backwards, gripping a tower of crates to steady himself. "Maybe now we can return to the Chancellor in peace, now that we've managed to escape all our various enemies." Zevran chuckled. "As if that's possible."
"The chancellor?" Myr's interest was piqued, and she was desperate to move the group beyond the moment of near-violent awkwardness. "You two... Rayne, you work for him?"
Rayne nodded, her face still stoney. It perturbed Myr that she portrayed little emotion aside from anger, but there was no reason to pry into her life. Likely she had been put through many hardships, as had all of Ferelden during the Blight.
"Work for him?" Zevran laughed. "We're his personal guard, though we've got quite the spectacular failure to report. I suspect we may not hold our position for long.
"Adrian would never fire me." Rayne turned towards the door, hiding her face. But that wasn't what threw Myr off.
"Adrian Amell? The Hero of Ferelden? He's the Chancellor?" Zevran and Rayne's only response was to stare incredulously.
"Forgive me for my surprise, but have you been living under a rock?" Zevran said, shaking his head.
"Kinda, yeah."
"Adrian Amell is the Acting Ruler of Ferelden while King Alistair and Queen Anora are visiting Orlais. Fergus Cousland's been helping him out, but it's mostly Adrian running the show." Zevran continued. "It seems unlikely such a pretty young lady would be so ignorant of Ferelden affairs."
Myr's words caught in her throat, feeling some slight blushing. Well, now she thought about it, Zevran was quite handsome...
"Don't bother with that lecher, Miranda." Rayne gripped the handle to the door. "Come, Zevran. We have to report back."
Zevran gave an elegant bow to Myr before pivoting, just barely managing to slip outside the door before Rayne slammed it in his face. Neither Saul or Myr talked for a moment, awkward silence pervading the warehouse.
"So, uh, hi again." Myr turned to Saul, who was still looking at the door. He didn't respond immediately, instead waiting, most likely thinking. When he did speak, however, it was with a tone she'd never heard from him before.
"My brother is in Denerim..." Saul's voice was quivering, his gaze slowly falling to the floor. His face was filled with shock, but Myr also saw a hint of relief, and was that happiness? "He's... alive?"
Not sure of what to say, Myr just laid a hand on Saul's shoulder, allowing him to take in the information without any interruption. Saul had always seemed like an empty individual, hellbent on some unknown objective, always steadfast and never faltering, dedicated beyond all logical bounds. To see him so shocked as to be stopped in his tracks, his mind completely occupied by events around him was a surprise all of its own.
"I need to see him."
ooo
Saul found himself suddenly uncertain. Even with Myr guiding him to the palace, he kept wanting to turn around, to flee from the truth. At multiple points he simply stopped in his tracks, overwhelmed. When Myr noticed he'd stopped, she'd run back to him, quickly taking his hand and leading him onward.
Suddenly the Howes didn't seem so important, though Saul kept doing a double take whenever he thought of that. For a year, killing the Howe's was the most important thought... No. It was the only thought Saul had. His reasoning was the loss of his family. His entire family.
Myr was silent, but she kept a smile on her face as she led him along. He was grateful, if not for her he might have just run away. To face a fact that had been denied for so long was terrifying, to say the least.
What had been important but an hour earlier, finding out who the assassins were, was now pushed to the back of his mind. Saul didn't even care if they attacked now.
"Are you happy?" They were nearing the palace gates now, and Myr had stopped, gazing upwards at the looming buildings ahead. Saul was startled by the level of serenity on her face. She had always seemed without a care, but he never really saw the full extent of it until now. It was... startling. She seemed beautiful.
"I... don't know." Saul's words came slowly, his mind still operating sluggishly. Myr just smiled. Drawing closer to the gates, Myr still had to lead Saul along. A few guards walked up to them, weapons at ready, but with protective intentions, not violent ones.
"State your business, citizen." The leader, likely the captain, approached non-threateningly. He seemed oddly familiar, but Saul dismissed it. Not wanting Myr to talk for him, Saul decided to speak up.
"My name is Saul Maximillian Cousland, second son to Teyrn Bryce Cousland, deceased ruler of Highever castle." Finally understanding this wasn't a dream, Saul decided to take the lead, walking towards the guard authoritatively. For the first time in a year, Saul felt in control. "I am here to see my older brother, Fergus Cousland, whom I've been led to believe is residing here."
The guard stared blankly for a second, incredulous look on his face. Moments later, his jaw dropped, his command of posture failing.
"My lord? It's... really you?" Now it was Saul's turn to be confused. Sure, this man looked familiar...but... no, he was...
"Ser Gilmore?" The young, redheaded knight from so long ago was nearly gone, replaced by a gruff, bearded figure obviously burdened by hardship. It was a strange transition, but the relief of finding his long-time friend was almost equally as overwhelming as discovering his brother was alive. "I thought you died! I... you stayed there at the gates, to hold off Arl Howe's men. How did you survive? Maker, you look nothing like you used to."
"I could say the same of you, my lord! But Fergus will want to see you immediately, so we'll have to catch up later." Ser Gilmore was beaming now, gesturing his men to open the gates. The gates swinging open loudly, Ser Gilmore led Saul inside, but paused when Myr followed. "Uh, my lord... I'm afraid the elf can't come with you."
Saul glanced back at Myr, who just smiled and nodded, waving her hand to let Saul know she wasn't bothered by it. In response, Saul backed up, grabbing her hand and leading her forward. Myr's expression was one of shock, but she didn't fight it.
"I believe I still possess my titles. If I am wrong, please correct me. She comes with." Ser Gilmore didn't argue, though Saul did think he saw a hint of dissatisfaction.
"No matter. Fergus is likely with Chancellor Adrian in the council room. We'll check there first." Ser Gilmore smiled again. "It's good to have you back, my lord."
"It's...good to be back."
ooo
"Wait, Rayne." Turning, she saw Zevran had stopped, leaning against a wall while staring out from the road. They were in a noble district, and as such were elevated, allowing them both to see out over the rest of Denerim, bathed in the dying light from the sunset.. The assassin had a dark look on his face, one that disturbed Rayne, considering his usual jovial disposition.
"Why are you stopping? We need to report back to Adrian." She knew that Adrain would not be happy to learn of the failure, but they had to report it. There was no choice.
"I don't think that's wise." Rayne was taken aback What was Zevran saying?
"Explain yourself." Zevran's thought was too alien. How could he even think that way? "Failures need to reported honestly. If we march back with no soldiers and claim we succeeded, he'd know something was up."
"Not my point." Zevran slowly started walking towards him. His face seemed uncertain. The assassin was thinking hard. "I was wondering why the Irregulars knew of our location, where K, or whoever he called himself, lived. I think we were set up."
"I don't understand." Zevran was just spouting nonsense, he just had to be. "The Irregulars ambushed us, that's all. Sure, Taoran and R sprang the trap.."
"It can't be that simple, Rayne. How did they know where we were? We were on the private, personal business of the Acting Ruler of Denerim. Nobody but us two and Adrian knew where we were going. Not even the soldiers had that information." Rayne chuckled at that, still uncertain of Zevran's point. It just seemed like he was talking nonsense. "Adrian betrayed us. I think he wanted us dead."
Rayne stopped dead, her breath escaping her. No. That was impossible. Adrian loved her. It couldn't be...
"That makes no sense. Why would he want to kill you on your first job? And why would he want me dead? Me!" Rayne was shouting, grabbing Zevran's robe in anger. "How dare you speak that way of him!"
"I've been working for Adrian in secret for months now, nearly since the day the Archdemon died. I know more than anyone else of why he's searching for Vilhm Madon." Zevran just stared in her eye. "He'd want to kill me to hide information. You, as well."
"No. No... You're joking." But Zevran wasn't smiling. He was dead serious. "He'd never... never do that."
"Adrian has changed, Rayne. We both know it. He's no longer the same man who spared my life and saved you. I suspect he may not even be the same man who loved you." Rayne wanted him to stop talking. His words were too painful. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Zevran's words rang of truth. Adrian had changed. "He's made me do worse things than shake down peasants, Rayne. How do you think he got all his information?"
Rayne let go, tears welling up in her eyes. She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't... She had to keep faith in him. But it made too much sense. Zevran, as much as in pained her, was right.
ooo
"Commander Taoran." Ryal hung his head, knowing his news would not make the leader of the Irregulars happy. "Our prisoners have escaped, unfortunately."
When Ryal returned to the base, Taoran was standing in front of the fireplace in his office, on hand in a deep pocket of his silk gown. A glass of wine was held in the other, undoubtedly there to relax him in preparation of the news to come. Ryal had seen the infamous anger Taoran displayed, and he had no desire to see the full brunt of it.
Taoran didn't speak at first, but Ryal could see his grip tighten on the fragile wine glass. Ryal wasn't scared of the small man himself, but Taoran had power. If the commander decided to punish him, then Ryal could do nothing to stop it.
"Not only did they escape, but they know the location of this base. This will not create a good public image for the Irregulars." Taoran didn't turn around, still focusing intently on the fire. "We need a scapegoat, someone to take the blame for this incident. Not you, of course. You're too valuable. R assures me that the Crown will take no action against us, but the chance always remains that the public will think of us negatively. That isn't good for business."
Ryal had to admit he felt relief, but it didn't sit well with him. They'd blame an innocent man for the fault of his supposed betters, but that was life. Nothing was fair.
"I agree with your plan wholeheartedly, sir." Ryal kept his tone formal, hoping Taoran wouldn't sense his dissatisfaction. This was necessary for the Irregulars. Sacrifice one to save many.
"And next time..." Taoran turned, and Ryal could see the menace and anger in his commanders eyes. Despite being much larger than Taoran, Ryal actually felt nervous under that gaze. "You will not fail."
"Yes, commander."
