"Mamae, I don't understand why you won't just go up there," Ethlen said as she sat down beside her mother in the tavern to begin her own breakfast.
"Because Teagan wants him to come home, and if he sees me he won't. It's as simple as that," She replied, her voice a little harsher than it needed to be, but Ethlen had latched on to this topic last night like a wolf to its prey. Since the first moment Lyna had refused to enter the room, she'd been so full of questions and eager curiosity that it was making Lyna lose her mind.
"Then why did we come here at all? Won't he have to see you when we all get back on the ship to go home? Won't that be worse than seeing you now? When he realizes that we're keeping things from him, he'll be even madder than if you just went up there now." The girl argued over mouthfuls of sausage and egg.
"I know da'len!" Lyna hissed loudly, before lowering her voice again. "I didn't exactly think that far ahead when I agreed to this trip…I was a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having found him alive at all," she admitted. She hoped that would answer the girl's questions, but it seemed to only give her more.
"Why? It's not like this is the first time you've dragged a warden back to Ameranthine," She reasoned.
What Ethlen failed to realize, mostly because it was a part of the job that Lyna expressly forbid she ever discover from anyone, was that duty to the Grey Wardens was a little more complicated than simply choosing to stay or choosing to go. As a Grey Warden you swore a blood oath to be vigilant, an oath that could not be foresworn. She'd learnt the seriousness of the oath the night she'd gone through the joining and watched as Duncan mercilessly murdered Ser Jory after he'd watched Daveth fail the joining. As commander she understood it even more when Nathaniel told her of his Grandfather who had joined the wardens and then disappeared, likely falling during his own joining. An unspoken part of that oath was to keep the order's secrets and it was agreed amongst the various Commanders of the Grey that a deserter was unlikely to keep those secrets. She had a duty as commander to keep the warden's ranks flush, to recruit the best men, and she could not do that if men were too afraid to go through the joining.
And so, when she hunted down deserters, they either returned with her, or they died. She'd killed people for refusing to return to the order. She hoped she was less of a tyrant about it than Duncan had been, making an effort to clearly explain to the deserter what their options were. They could return and all would be as it had been before, but if they did not return they would die. And perhaps they would best her and perhaps they would best the next warden to come for them, but they would spend their lives running, only to eventually either meet their end in the deep roads or go mad from the taint anyway. Wouldn't it be a better use of their lives to serve proudly like the rest of their brethren?
In the end, they usually came back—it was simply logical—and they were greeted by their brothers and sisters as if they'd simply been away on a mission. For the most part, that's what the men and women who served her believed had happened anyway. It was a very select group of people who knew about the desertions and how they were resolved.
And then there was this situation…what would Alistair have done if she had simply let him have his vengeance and killed Loghain? Supposing they both had somehow managed to survive the Battle of Denerim, he would likely have spent his life next to her, loving her and leading the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and campaigning all over Thedas. He would never have turned his back on his duties if it weren't for the choices she had made during the blight. She could not execute a man for that. For moment, she let her mind linger on what life might have been like had she not been too afraid to lose him…
"Mamae?" Ethlen prodded when she realized her mother had drifted off in to her own thoughts rather than simply refused to answer the question.
"Abelas da'mi, I was somewhere else," she smiled wearily. Ethlen could probably guess where her thoughts had taken her, and so she pretended not to notice when Ethlen rolled her eyes and went back to chattering around her breakfast.
Much as she hated to admit it, Ethlen was right. The situation before them would only get worse the longer she waited to step in. Yesterday Teagan had put the offer on the table and now it was up to her to do whatever it was he thought she could do to encourage Alistair to come home. Truly, she hadn't the foggiest notion of what she could offer him that he wouldn't throw right back in her face and for that reason she intended to give him the day to consider Teagan's offer. She'd only go in to the room an hour or so before the barrier would expire—assuming of course that he hadn't managed or cared to cleanse the room of Ander's magic before then—and simply let him know that, if he wanted, he would always be welcome at Vigil's Keep.
They sat in silence after that, Ethlen alternately practicing her penmanship and drawing the strangest Mabari like doodles, Lyna reading and responding to the many letters she'd brought with her from her Banns and nobles and commoners alike requesting the aid of the wardens in this that or the other. There was of course the obligatory letter from Lord Dace detailing their latest excursion in to the deep roads. He sent them weekly, and she had little doubt there would be at least a few waiting for her when they finally arrived back at the keep. In addition there were letters from the men she had hired to excavate and repair Soldier's Peak complaining of hauntings and demanding further compensation. These demands were of course ignored, yet again, lyna having personally visited Soldier's Peak several times after Alistair, Morgan, Zevran and Leliana had cleared it all those years ago. The ruin might be creepy, but it was no longer haunted.
As if thoughts of him had brought it on, she suddenly felt the tingle of a templar's cleanse wash over her seconds before she heard the distinct sound of a body crashing through a locked door. So much for giving him the day, she thought as she stood and her hands found the twin hilts of her dar'misu. Ethlen made to stand, but the warning look from Lyna sent her right back in to her chair.
She heard the guards placed outside the doors shout as they struggled and quickly failed to hold him, but then Alistair had never been easily subdued by shear force alone. One had to be quicker, more precise. You had to know where to duck and dodge and exactly which spot to hit to put a man of his size down. She heard one unconscious body tumbled down the stairs and then it was shortly followed by another. She remained calm, willing her heart to slow its beat, her hands to stop shaking and her nerve to steady. On some deep, nearly unnoticed level she cursed herself for fearing facing this man more than another broodmother.
And then there he was in front of her, towering and threatening, but entirely taken aback and unsure of what to think or do. "Y-You…" He managed to finally stutter before the hilt of her blade connected with his temple and he went down. There was a gash on the side of the head—she had not been gentle—and it would bleed quite a bit and he would be entirely unhappy when he awoke, but he wouldn't be getting away again. She'd let Teagan try to woo him with kind words and a comfortable bed, but it had clearly had no effect. She was surprised, though, that he had managed to escape his room this quickly. She'd believed the pain of his hang over would prevent him from managing any use of his skills until later in the day. This was the reason she'd told Anders not to bother with anything more taxing.
The guards were not out for long, and when they came to they picked the larger man up and dragged his limp body back to the room he'd previously occupied. "Please tie him up this time?" She called after them before dropping a heavy purse on the bartender's counter. "You saw nothing," She warned the barkeep. He nodded vigorously as Lyna waved her hand at Ethlen to follow and headed up the stairs.
She worked quickly, unsure of how long he would remain unconscious. From her own rooms she brought a heavy wooden chair—it was more akin to a throne, really—and rope and as soon as the guards had sat him in the chair she quickly bound his wrists and ankles to it. At the same time, the guards and the inn's staff worked quickly to replace the door on its hinges as best they could. It didn't fit quite right, and the rest of the patrons would likely hear every screaming painful word that passed between them if other actions were not quickly taken.
"Ethlen!" she called.
"Yes Mamae?" She answered, seemingly not phased by the raucousness. She'd seen her mother take down Qunari twice Alistair's size before in the sparring ring, and Lyna supposed this wasn't much different in the end.
"Go figure out how much coin the innkeeper wants to clear out his inn for the rest of the day and then go get it from Bann Teagan. If he doesn't have enough to cover it, tell the innkeeper that the Hero of Ferelden will be sure to see he is compensated appropriately."
Ethlen nodded and hurried off to do as she was asked. She knew well enough when her mother was about business and would brook no arguments. When Lyna heard the last of the patrons exit the building, she sighed heavily and dismissed the guards. This wasn't just warden business—something they had no business being involved in anyway—it was also personal and if their fights of years past were any indication, this would be loud, long, and highly emotional. She didn't want anyone see her like that that didn't need to.
With that, she grabbed the rag and bucket of wash water one of the inn's staff had brought her during the commotion, wet the rag and then gently, diligently began to wash away the blood that by now had dried down the side of his face. She took what would probably be the last quiet moment she had with him to study his face. He hadn't changed so much if one looked past the longer floppy hair, the stubble on his chin and the deep circles under his eyes. His frame was smaller than it used to be, likely the product of underuse and overindulgence. He hadn't yet started to put on weight so he must have managed to find some form of work that kept him physically active. Anders had mentioned he knew Alistair sometimes worked for a friend of his, a pirate named Isabella. She wondered if it was the same Isabella who had taught her the duelist's skills in Denerim. It was more than likely, and it would therefore make sense that she would occasionally hire Alistair. His clothes were the biggest change; gone was the plate armor and the leathers and linens underneath, and in their place were clothes she imagined must have been quite fine at some point. Perhaps they were a gift from a wealthy merchant he'd worked for, or a necessity for escorting some nobleman or noblewoman for the day. Maybe they were even a remnant of an earlier time when he had first arrived and wanted to fit in and be someone the nobility respected, rather than whispered about behind his back. Whatever the reason for owning such finery was, it clearly hadn't lasted and the clothes were wrinkled and dirty and torn. She supposed he must have other clothes and possibly even armor stashed away somewhere, especially if he was taking mercenary work, but it was likely she would never know.
As she rinsed the rag and brought it back to his face, he began to wake and then flinched under her hand. Then, as he flinched the memory of what had just happened downstairs must have come flooding back and he snapped upright into a rigid stance, glaring fire and ice at her as if she…as if she had betrayed him in the worst possible way.
"What do you want," he spat as he struggled against the bonds on his wrists and ankles.
She wouldn't yell back, not at him, not after what she had done. Well, at the least, she would keep her composure as long as she could. She understood too well what he must think of her. "To talk, if that's alright." She replied, her voice calm and soft.
"What could you possibly have to say to me that you haven't already said?" He sneered.
"That I'm sorry I hurt you." It wasn't much. She knew it wouldn't be enough, but maybe, just maybe he'd been away long enough to start forgiving old hurts.
"A little late on that, aren't you?" He laughed bitterly. Apparently not long enough.
"No…" She replied taking a deep breath before she continued. "I knew what I was doing when I did it. And I would do it again."
He seemed somehow caustically amused by that. "Sorry, failing to see how this is an apology."
She nodded, knowing that he would see it that way, but maybe if she explained it better… "I loved you too much to watch you die and it was just the two of us against the archdemon and it was the only way I knew of to keep you safe."
"Really…" He drawled out the word long and hard. "You stabbed me in the back because you loved me too much…" and then he threw his head back against the back of the chair and barked out one loud disbelieving laugh. "That has got to be the best worst excuse I have heard in my entire life!" He then leaned in, his amusement darkening in to something almost frightening. "You let the man who spent months trying to kill us—after he DID kill every member of our order in Ferelden—fight alongside you against the archdemon rather than someone you loved and trusted because, and yet again I quote, 'you loved me to much'" He shook his head in disbelief as leaned back in to the chair again. "And on top of that, you're not really sorry because you'd do it all over again if you had to."
"I saw the man we both hated to his death!" She insisted, her calm demeanor slipping. He was trying to provoke her, but then she always rose gloriously to the occasion, so really who could blame him. "When we faced the dragon and it was apparent that Urthemiel was beaten, Loghain ran for the dragon and I ran for him. I ran him through the back with a Saw Sword and let him die moments before he could achieve the redemption he and Anora wanted."
"Too little too late," Alistair sniffed in contempt.
"What do you want from me, Alistair?" She cried. "I cannot change the past."
"Wouldn't that be a nifty trick!" His voice suddenly full of mirth and excitement she knew he didn't feel. Then his expression changed again in to that cruel smile he'd been pinning her with since the conversation began. "Maybe I'd go back and let you succumb to the taint out in the Wilds like you deserve!"
A crack sounded throughout the room as her hand made contact with his face. Tears pricked at her eyes an threatened to spill down her face. How could he say that to her? How could he say that he'd rather that she had died in the Wilds than never known a moment of the happiness they had once found in each other. How…? And that's when she realized…he'd never been told why it took a warden to kill an arch demon either.
"You have no idea what I saved you from, do you?" She was still hurt and angry by his words, but she was determined to see this out. She would not go home until she was certain there was nothing else to say between them.
"If it was a sword in the back, then yeah, I can guess," He snarked. No, he was entirely in the dark.
Lyna took a deep breath to calm her nerves, but it did little to help. "The death of the archdemon kills the warden who slays it." She stated plainly and simply.
"What?!" He choked. Well at least she had him off guard there.
"You don't have quite so much to say now do you?" She snipped back, though she realized the moment he spoke again that her snide little remark had not helped matters.
"You're lying," He accused, dismissing the claim before it had even been allowed to settle in his mind. "If that were true you would be just as dead as Loghain…" He continued. "Or maybe he killed the beast and you just decided to take credit for it. After betraying your lover, I can see how taking credit for someone else's victory would seem like a fairly minor infraction."
She clenched her jaw and attempted to remain cool. "…Morrigan knew a way around it…" she supplied, though her voice was clearly just as tense as ever.
"That's convenient, now isn't it," He smirked.
"Fine, Alistair, you know what?" She cried, finally giving up and throwing her hands in the air. "Don't believe me. No one else in the entire order does, so why should you?"
"No reason I can think of," He shrugged nonchalantly, stoking the fire coursing through her blood even higher. Now he was intentionally picking at her last nerve. And it was working.
"Creators, must you always have the final word!" She yelled this time.
"Just when I'm around you, love," He sneered, and then he even winked. Creators, if she didn't leave she'd do more than slap him, but her pride wasn't about to let her leave without doing at least some damage to the man who had been verbally attacking her since the start.
"I don't know what I was thinking, agreeing to come here with Teagan. Clearly you are just as childish as you ever were," She snapped as she braced her hands on the arms of his chair, right next to his arms. She saw him bristle at the near contact and she chalked up a point for herself on her mental score board. "Do you want to know why I really chose Loghain over you?" She hissed in his face. "Because, unlike you, he could make the difficult decisions. Do you want to know why Loghain didn't send his troops in to that valley? Because your brother's idiot battle strategy would have cost Ferelden its entire army. I may not have liked him very much, at all in fact, but he was twice the Grey Warden you will ever be!" During that tirade, Alistair's expression had gone from viciously toying with her to murderously dark and he yanked against his restraints again. Good. She had gotten to him. Looking him once over and sneering with disgust, she finished by saying, "Go drown yourself in your cups for all I care. You're of no use to me." And with that she pushed herself off the chair and strode out the door to the room.
Once outside, she turned to the guards. "Untie him in two hours. And in the meantime, pack up Bann Teagan and Ethlen's an my things. We'll be needing a new place to sleep."
Then Bann Teagan's voice sounded behind her. "Oh Lyna…what did you do?"
"I told him the truth," She replied. "Sometimes the truth hurts."
