A/N: Slow, short chapter. Thanks to Jenovan (you should go read her stuff) for making sure my marbles are still in the bag. Next chapter should be Zev.
The year drew on, the nights grew long, the wind cold, and Cadryn's time at the Keep grew lonelier. Nathaniel was better suited to running the Arling than Cadryn could ever be, so Nathaniel took over whatever duties he wished, until the actual Arl was doing little more than reviewing correspondence and signing papers. Holding court, previously a chore and a bore, became one of the highlights of his life, but his enthusiasm for it didn't grow. Knowing that he would likely need to leave the Wardens in Alistair's care again, Cadryn let Alistair continue acting as Warden Commander, delegating tasks to the other man such that they were orders from a superior or requests from a friend instead of responsibilities placed on him. It worked, after a while, this treatment giving Alistair enough confidence to do more than stutter at Justice's disturbing presence or Velanna's invective or Sigrun and Anders' playful behavior. Oghren's support, backing up everything Alistair said or did, helped a great deal, and much as he often wanted to knock some sense into the dwarf Cadryn began to develop a little more respect for him. The man really was more suited to this lifestyle, and the strange state of his relationship with his new wife and child seemed to fit him, even if it wasn't ideal.
With both the Arling and the Wardens in good hands, and Cadryn doing his best not to interfere for any number of reasons, that left Cadryn to catch up with Aduran. Despite the years between them there wasn't much to say, and Cadryn knew the Templar would see through his ruse if they grew too close again, would see the lyrium abuse and lay bare all his wounds in trying to right it. So Cadryn withdrew, keeping to himself mostly, pretending that he was busy with something or other-he'd always been good at lying, and Cassius wasn't sharing any secrets.
Winter settled in, wrapping around the Arling softly at first with gentle snows and relatively mild weather, and in the afternoon of the first real snowfall Cadryn found himself walking Cassius out in the fields around the Keep. Trudging through snow halfway to his knees behind the happily romping mabari, a light scattering of snowflakes still caught in the icy breeze, came as a welcome distraction. Standing out away from the Keep, staring out across the surrounding hills and any sign of the Blight covered by undisturbed white, unable to hear anything but the soft breeze and his own breath and the mabari panting as he bounded around, Cadryn felt a sort of peace settle over him. He was alone, for a moment, and it was easy to pretend that he was beholden to no one, no responsibilities or wants or needs. For that moment, it was a comforting sensation, and he was content.
Of all things, the cold of the chain around his neck stirred him from that state, reminded him of his humanity, that he wasn't alone-and was. No one really needed him at the Keep, now, and it was growing more and more difficult to disguise his addiction with the increasing doses, to avoid others and to come up with some pretense or other. He was used up, empty as the barren, blighted land under all that uniform snow. There were no tears, nothing a normal person would recognize as sorrow, just bleak acceptance of fact. Cadryn started walking.
After a while he could no longer hear Cassius, and when he looked back didn't see the hound, and a spike of fear settled into relief. Let the mabari happily chase rabbits in the snow and run home worried to Alistair later-it simplified things. He couldn't see the Keep, either, only his own footsteps coming down a long hill and the growing shadows of an early sunset behind the last storm's receding clouds.
The wind began to pick up with the setting sun, whispering softly, soothing voices, calming, and the cold started creeping in through the heavy layers of his clothing. Cadryn wrapped his arms around himself, stuffed his gloved hands up under his armpits to keep them warm. He kept walking, because the motion felt good, he felt like he was doing something for once.
A weak sun crawled over the horizon and bled out over the snow before he realized the cold was coming from within, that the wind really was whispering, and that he had passed from the world of the waking at some point.
I can give you what you seek. Snow faded into sand, scraggly trees casting sickly shadows became strangely-crafted stone buildings, people bustled in the streets and Cadryn found himself sitting in a wrought iron chair that was just a little too small. Zevran leaned across the table, traced the tattoos on one side of Cadryn's face with his fingertips before kissing him, and all the ice he'd gathered inside while walking through the fields of Amaranthine melted under the fire of Zevran's passion.
They parted after a long time, no more than a breathless gasp apart, and Zevran whispered, "I could give you this."
"You're not real." But Cadryn's quavering voice betrayed his want, trembling hands reaching out to touch the elf even as he rejected the image.
Zevran laughed, throwing his head back, just out of Cadryn's reach, and it was real, the full and infectious sound of the Antivan's mirth just as he remembered it, and the smoldering look Zevran pinned him with told Cadryn he was in some sort of trouble for that. "My dear Warden, I am as real as you are willing to believe."
"Demon," he whispered, and stood from the table. "Stop this. This isn't what I want."
He was standing in the snowy hills of Amaranthine again, only weak starlight above and all dead silence. I can give you what you really want. Another voice, this one familiar and fear chilled Cadryn just as surely as the unnaturally still air. Freedom. They have broken you, as I knew would happen. Mages have become no more than playthings, after all, toys to be used and tossed aside by either other mortals or my ilk. For all your spells and your wit, you've no real power. We can change that, and we can free you.
Oblivion, the other voice whispered, feminine and sweet, and he felt a long-nailed, finely boned hand stroking through his hair, a reassuring touch, warm breath tickling one ear even though she spoke in his mind. We will give you what you truly desire. Let us in.
They gave him a taste of it, nonexistence, not the long sleep and mystery of death but simple nonbeing. It was pure and soft and cool as the snow, it was true rest, true peace, and yet nothing, and it made him weep with want.
"No." It was reflexive, but Cadryn had enough conviction left to will his surroundings to warp and change, to become the familiar camp from during the Blight as they'd pitched it in the Brecilian Forest. Troubled as they were, these had been better times. It was a safe place.
They didn't follow, and Cadryn settled down by the fire to warm himself, but the ice stayed inside, heavy.
ooooooo
Cadryn woke in his own bed in Vigil's keep, buried under a stack of quilts, Cassius nuzzled up next to him on top of everything. On waking the hound began licking his face, tail wagging eagerly. By sound, someone sitting at the small desk against the wall put down a book, the weight of it making a little 'tmp' on the wood, chairlegs scraped on the floor as they stood, footsteps, the door opened and closed again.
Knowing he wouldn't get another chance, Cadryn pushed himself up, and seeing no one else in the room forced himself out of bed, limbs shaking and weak. The air seemed too warm. Stumbling into the outer room of his apartments, the one set up as an office, he found everything as it should be, and left it in the same condition, tucking away the empty vial among the full to deal with later. He was back in bed, the covers smooth again, before anyone returned. The lyrium hadn't made the shaking any better.
He'd never noticed before how much alike Anders and Alistair looked, but having both of them looming over him was almost disquieting, and he briefly wondered just how many Theirin bastards there could be. Anders started going through the motions of a healer, silence and a hard-set expression instead of his usual snark. Though he wasn't used to being the subject of such attentions they were familiar, and beyond his surprise Cadryn gave Anders no trouble.
"What happened?" Alistair's solemn expression, the undertone of anger, worried Cadryn-had he missed something while he was... Well, he remembered walking into the cold, and sweet voices whispering tempting promises, but nothing else after sitting down at the fire.
"I went for a walk," he croaked, surprised by the thready and worn sound of his own voice. "With Cassius. He likes snow." It sounded very dumb, to his own ears, and weak but true.
That startled a laugh out of Anders. "That's why they found you twenty miles out? I think the dog got tired halfway."
"Twenty..."
"We wouldn't have found you without Cassius." Alistair reached over to scratch the mabari's head, and the hound leaned into the touch with a smug sort of look.
"Twenty miles?"
"Being cold can make you do strange things. There was a boy at the monastery, maybe a year or two older than me, who tried to run away one winter. They found him frozen to death in his underthings the next morning."
"Probably magic," Anders offered, tones short, a little more serious again-seeing him like this was still off-putting. "Some of the things I've seen you do would keep you warm in a pinch."
"But twenty miles? I must've walked all night!"
"In a straight line while hypothermic." With a little grin Anders settled back where he was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Next time I catch Oghren drinking his special brew I'm going to bet him you can stay coherent longer. Perhaps tree climbing—sounds like I'd win no matter the outcome. Anyway, everything's intact, you've-"
"-got a little bit of a fever," Cadryn finished for him. "I do this too, you know. I expect it will amount to nothing, but we'd best keep an eye on it." Tired as he was, Cadryn still managed to catch Anders' agitation in the set of his shoulders, the little glare layered within the other mage's almost perpetual amusement. "Thank you, Anders. I know we wouldn't be having this discussion right now without your talents."
"You still owe the dog more." He nodded toward Cassius, and the mabari gave an affirmative huff. "And Alistair did all the heavy lifting. My job was comparatively easy."
"Thank you, then." Mostly addressing Alistair, Cadryn reached out from under the quilts to grip the not-quite-Templar's forearm, a gesture between the two of them as intimate as a hug between brothers would be. Alistair ducked his head a little, embarrassed but pleased, understanding the meaning. "All of you. Unfortunately, however, this is where I ask you to leave for a moment, because grateful as I am I'd still like to piss in privacy."
ooooooo
Cadryn was feeling the fever when he woke, shivering despite heavy quilts and a warm room, an ache in all his joints, his skin tight and slick and disgusting. There didn't seem to be enough air in the room, so he pushed the quilts away, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard.
A book closing and settling against the little table against the wall startled him-all his senses seemed hyper-aware, as they had on waking the first time, sound in particular too loud. He turned to see Aduran picking up the chair and carrying it over to the bedside, not letting it scrape against the floor. "I can smell it, you know. The lyrium sweating out of you."
Fever heightened Cadryn's sense of paranoia, and he went stiff, muscles tensing at the accusation in those words. "I don't know-"
Leaning forward, Aduran folded his hands together, catching Cadryn's gaze with his own and holding it, a certain intensity and authority there Cadryn hadn't known since he was a child. It made him nostalgic and it frightened him all at once. "Don't lie to me. We are both better than that. How long?"
Releasing a long breath unconsciously held, Cadryn suddenly found air in the room, cool and sweet inside his too-hot flesh. "Since we went into the Deep Roads in pursuit of the Mother—I was still drained from defending the Keep, but the others were even worse. It was lyrium or—or worse things." With a grimace, Cadryn presented his left arm, which Aduran took by the wrist, inspecting the horizontal, perfectly spaced scars there, all too faint to be detected without close scrutiny and usually covered by the mage's bracers. "It's not real blood magic—it uses something inherent to Grey Wardens. But it was clearly based on blood magic."
Aduran examined the scars for a long time, face impassive, and Cadryn grew nervous, twitching a little, wanting to get away from Aduran's grasp and his impending disapproval. That the Templar hadn't already smote him proved him right in trusting the man, but there was still time for that. And the mage knew he likely wouldn't be able to fight the Templar, sick and weak as he was.
"Anyone who has truly lived and tells you they have never done anything deplorable is either lying about their experience or lying about their past deeds," Aduran finally offered, and he let go of Cadryn's wrist, leaning back in his chair. "I believe you. And I have faith you wouldn't resort to it unless absolutely necessary. I wanted to believe you were more of a hero than someone like myself, though. Older generations always want better for those who succeed us." Cadryn knew there was something unsaid there, but in his addled state couldn't make real sense of it, Aduran's grimly amused expression mostly unreadable.
Silence fell between them for a while, uncomfortable and yet easy. Things still hung unsaid, adding to the weight of the already unbreathable air, but that silence seemed to belong—or it was the fever. Uncertain, Cadryn eventually broke the silence with, "Aren't you going to berate me at the very least? Lyrium addiction and blood magic?"
"It's more difficult than they realize, when they ask us to do the right thing. They don't understand how distasteful it really is, and what it can do to twist you or ruin you. What it takes from you." Aduran looked away briefly, and Cadryn fancied he saw tears shimmering in the Templar's eyes, but when Aduran looked back up it seemed to have passed. "I imagine you realized that well before the oldest of those scars. I believe what you told me about the magic, I really do." Swallowing harshly, Aduran looked away again. "And if I knew how to deal with lyrium, I wouldn't be a Templar any more."
That silence settled again, a little more comfortable between them, but Cadryn wasn't sure if he should be relieved or desperate-he'd expected to be scolded, for this weakness to be laid out before everyone to shame him out of it, hadn't expected Aduran to confess his own helplessness. Two people knew, now, and Cadryn found it no relief. This seemed no different from being alone.
