Yeah, I own nothing copyrighted, but happen to be the unwilling owner of an entire clan of typo gremlins. Lucky me :-P
What had started as a determined march back to Ostagar in search of survivors after Morrigan and Flemeth saved us from the tower had rapidly evolved into something else. Darkspawn still roamed the battlefield in droves, all the way into what had been the king's camp just a few short weeks ago. Morrigan had warned us that we would not be pleased with what we were likely to find and she wasn't wrong.
Alistair looked like a god of war as his sword raised and fell against his enemies, the hollowness that had been in his eyes since waking up in Flemeth's hut replaced with something so raw and black that the kindest word to describe it is pure hatred. As he fought, I heard him muttering curses that I didn't think was possible for the once naive warrior to know.
Even Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar.
That is what the dying guardsman had said to us before imploring that we find the key to the king's royal arm's chest. Unfortunately for us, the sodding thing had been hidden back in the camp at the foot of a statue. He'd insisted that Cailan only trusted the Wardens with its contents, but hadn't had the time to give the key to Duncan before we were attacked. The chest itself held Maric's sword and supposedly documents concerning Cailan's dealings with the Orlesians. It was only after fighting our way to the chest did we learn that the king, daft as he might have seemed, had indeed been in contact with Empress Celene over allying against the coming Blight.
As I watch Alistair stare into nothing over the campfire, it's not too difficult to decipher what his thoughts are about. The silver chalice being rolled between his hands only reinforces that.
My eyes drift down to the sword and dagger laying on his bedroll. Duncan's own weapons, pulled out of the twice killed ogre. I would have left them in the beast, but the look on Alistair's face when he saw them...
"So, where do we go from here?" Morrigan banters as she enters the ring of light flickering around the fire.
I throw a glance towards Alistair, but he doesn't even acknowledge that the wild woman had spoken. I drop the shirt I'd been mending onto my bedroll and shrug, "I think heading to Lothering would be best at the moment. With all of the gear we have managed to salvage, we might be able to sell it and purchase some much needed supplies. I'm also hoping that we might be able to find out about any other survivors before marching all over this Maker forsaken kingdom, trying to gain allies for what is to come."
The other woman crouches down and extends her hands to soak in the warmth of the blaze, "Why do you continue to pursue this? Your precious order has fallen, your king is dead, surely you know when you've been outmatched?"
"What do you know witch?" Alistair suddenly growls before climbing to his feet and storming into the dark.
"Because it's the right thing to do Morrigan," I try not to let it show just how much the warrior's outburst has rattled me, "And because if we don't, no one else will...and then soon enough, the darkspawn will make sure that no place in Ferelden is safe."
One inky eyebrow lifts over her golden gaze, "And why should I care whether Ferelden falls or not?"
"Mostly because with the darkspawn overrunning the world, they won't care if you are an apostate, a farmer, or a sodding bronto wrangler. You'll die just the same."
"Tis sound logic, though I still am not convinced that skull fracture didn't do more damage than Mother originally thought," Morrigan straightens then peers down at me, "See to your bumbling companion Warden, for I believe that if our lives are going to be dependent on him, he needs to be in fit enough shape to fight." With that, she slinks off back to her own fire.
Havoc, who has been steadfastly watching the direction my fellow Warden stomped off in, gives me a low woof as I pat his head and gesture for him to lead me to the man.
I slowly make my way along the meager path Alistair had made when he came through but am beginning to worry about the distance from camp we are until I see his large form hunched over by a stream. He doesn't seem to notice my or the mabari's presence and I can tell why almost immediately. The former Templar's shoulders are bobbing disjointedly and a muffled gasping noise is emanating from him. Alistair, for all of his confidence and penchant for bad jokes, is crying.
I pad over and silently take a seat beside him on the flat rock. "You want to talk about it?"
His gaze doesn't move from his lap. "It's so difficult...they were the only family I ever had. Duncan, he...he never treated me like I was some charity case like Eamon did, nor did any of the others. I finally felt like I belonged somewhere and now-they're gone. You don't know how-"
"Arl Howe and his men slaughtered my entire family in the middle of the night," I interject, the hole in my chest ripping itself open as the words escape, "I was the only one to survive, but that was only because Duncan knocked me out and left my parents to die. My brother...was one of the scouts sent into the Wilds before the battle..."
"You're really that Alexa? Alexa Cousland?" his head snaps up to leer appraisingly at me, "The jewel of the Cousland family, that's what they called you, wasn't it? I thought Duncan was pulling my leg.""
I shake my head curtly, "Not anymore, I'm not. She died that night with her family and will be buried when Rendon Howe is dead. I'm simply Alexa Rose, a Grey Warden like yourself. No more, no less."
"All this time I've been feeling sorry for myself, never realizing how much harder it has been for you," he murmurs, shifting a bit so we can see eye to eye, "I promised that I would look out for you and yet left you all alone when you needed me the most. I'm so sorry Lex."
"I'm not worried about me right now," I hasten to reassure him while fighting the urge to wrap my arms around my torso to prevent myself from flying apart, "I'm worried about a friend who needs me."
The corners of his lips twitch upward, "You know, this right here proves what I'd said to you before. You are so strong, more than I could ever hope to be."
I pat his arm, "Especially when it comes to cheese. I swear, if the darkspawn came at you with wheels of that stuff, you'd throw down your weapons and run at them with a smile on your face."
That does it. The smile I'd grown so fond of reappears like the sun emerging from behind a storm cloud, "If the darkspawn were using cheese as their chosen weapon, I'd beat them single handedly. It certainly beats putting on a dress and doing the Remigold, though I'd imagine that would throw them for a loop."
"Now that's something I think I might like to see," I chortle.
His gaze shifts from jovial to something so intense I almost have to look away. "For you, I'd do it." There is that phrase again! "Only for you though, I do have a reputation to maintain after all."
I push myself up then extend a hand to aid him, "You are such a tease. Now come on, let's get back to camp before Morrigan decides we need to be turned into something more unnatural than we already are."
As soon as he is on his feet, I am swallowed up in his arms, "Thank you Lex. I don't know what I'd do without you now..."
"I feel the same way Ali," I mumble into his chest, all the while silently thanking the Maker that I'm not alone in this mess that has become my life.
"Tell me you're not serious about taking these two lunatics with us?" Alistair growls, refusing to budge from the outskirts of the town, "The dwarves I understand, we need a merchant we can trust, but a rage prone Qunari and a delusional lay sister? Do you plan on collecting every misfit and outcast you can find along the way? We're trying to build an army, not a madhouse Lex!"
"They're certainly not the only misfits I've gathered Alistair," I retaliate, tired of his childish tantrum, "You're part of this group too, aren't you? Besides, we need all the help we can get right now."
The warrior points back to the sour faced Qunari soldier who is currently holding the lead to our newly acquired pack mule, "But Lex, he is a murderer!"
I take my helm off and glare at him, "So are we, it's what Grey Wardens are made for. We kill anything that we need to in order to keep Ferelden safe. Not that it matters much to you, because if you hadn't become a Warden, you would have spent your life killing mages that refused to bow down to the Chantry's will. It wouldn't have mattered how old they were either. So tell me, how is that any different?"
I'm almost positive that his eyes are going to pop out of his skull, "We don't murder people just because we're pissed off about something!"
"Really? You seemed awfully intent on killing anything that moved after seeing the wasteland of Ostagar and that was compounded on when we found the king's body and burned it. If I remember correctly, you promised to put Loghain's head on a spike. Don't fucking push me on this Alistair, you won't win."
"And if I refuse?" he crosses hims arms over his chest and if I were anyone else, he would certainly be as intimidating as he is attempting to be.
"You're outvoted two to one, three if you count the dog," I huff, my irritation growing to new heights as the sun moves lower in the sky, "You know I won't ever make you leave, but I can't make you stay if you don't want to..." Why did saying that hurt so much? I try to blink away the wetness gathering in the corners of my eyes. "I supposed you will do what's best for you, in the end."
My words seem to finally register in the young man's brain because he lunges towards me, "No! I never said that I wanted to leave! Oh Maker..." he pulls a hand free from its gauntlet and raises it to my face, "Please don't cry Lex. I'm not going anywhere, I swear. I-I just got upset because I don't understand why you-"
My anger flares white hot and my hands curl into fists at my sides, "You are more than welcome to start making these decisions since you're actually the senior Warden and all. I'm doing the best with what I have Alistair, so either take charge and tell me what needs to be done or shut up and do as I say. What's it going to be?"
We are standing nearly toe to toe at this point, so what my fellow Warden does next nearly knocks me on my arse. The hand he had held to my cheek is suddenly threading itself through my hair while his mouth crashes into mine. The world falls away at the contact, making me forget about blights and treaties and adopting vagabonds into our rag tag group. Drawing away isn't an option on account of his steely grip, so I surrender myself to innocent but eager ministrations of his velvety soft lips. I glide my tongue along his bottom lip, begging for entrance, as my own fingers wind their way into his sun kissed locks. I can feel his momentary hesitation at the silent plea, but his trust in me prevails and he quickly allows me to deepen the kiss.
It could have been seconds or even years before he gently draws back and touches his forehead to mine, "Maker, but you are beautiful, especially when you are angry. A little scary as well. That wasn't...too soon was it?"
My ire now completely dissolved, I can't stop one side of my mouth from curling upwards, "I don't know Ali, does that mean you are going to trust my judgment from now on?"
He nods his acquiescence, "Your desire is my command my lady. I promise that I will do my best never to question you again but, just so you know, all bets are off if cheese is involved."
Somewhere behind us, Sten decides to alert us that there is still a world out there. "You humans have strange ways of parleying. I certain hope that I am not expected to resort to such methods as well."
"Sten, they are merely kissing," Leliana argues in her beautiful accent, "I've only been in their presence a few hours and could see the affection they have for one another. It has nothing to do with parleying...well, not really."
"I think I'm going to be ill," Morrigan quips, forcing Alistair and I to break apart chuckling.
Alistair raises his hands up in surrender, "Okay, I give up. Lex, if you're sure about them staying, then they stay, just remember whose idea it was when you want to murder one of them for some sarcastic remark they make."
"Fine, as long as you remember that your mouth gets you into just as much trouble," I chortle before mussing his hair, which earns me a glare, then point towards a low hill in the distance, "We can make that hill before nightfall. It looks like a good place to make camp, so I suggest we be on our way while we have some daylight left. Any arguments?"
Alistair shrugs and smirks at me, the other women shake their heads in agreement, Sten just scowls and gives a little tug on the mule's lead. Havoc is content to run circles around us as we make our journey to where we will rest tonight, occasionally darting off into the bushes after rabbits and the like.
When we arrive, the bard and I undertake the task of erecting the tents while Alistair and Sten gather firewood and Morrigan erects a protective barrier around the site. When we're finished, Leliana offers to make dinner while the rest of us take turns bathing in the stream Sten found.
I wait until the others have had a chance to wash before grabbing my soap and the few dirty clothes I have in my possession. There is no use trying to keep the mabari in camp when I go, so I pat my leg in silent command and he bounds after me. Little does he know that I'm not the only one who is going to get a thorough scrubbing tonight.
Once stripped down and in the pleasantly cool water, I tackle the tangled mess my hair has become. Though I'd kept in wrapped in a leather thong, it's still somehow managed to turn itself into a rat's nest. "Andraste's sword," I mutter, now seriously contemplating on using my dagger to cut the mess off.
"I can help you with that," Morrigan announces as she emerges into the feeble light of the lantern, "Unless you would rather your fellow Warden come crashing in, thinking that your frustrated cries were something of a more sinister nature."
"Oh, um, yes please," I quickly smother the surprised expression on my face and move to the edge of the water, "I really appreciate this Morrigan."
"Tis not too much of a bother," she retorts as her comb and dainty hands make quick work of my crimson mane, "Besides, the dimwitted oaf you call your friend is still decidedly unnerved by my presence and I thought I'd reward his restraint by making myself scarce for a time."
"Lull him in a false sense of security you mean," I tease, earning myself a gravelly chortle from the apostate, "You know, he wouldn't be so bad if you stopping giving him a hard time about everything."
"And what would be the fun in that?" she openly laughs this time, "He seeks to cover up his insecurities by intimidating me with his Templar training. I hate to tell you this little Warden, but he fails miserably. He is not the first mage hunter I've encountered and will certainly not be the last. They are easy to mislead and even easier to keep fumbling."
"Did you come across a lot of Templars in the Wilds?" I glance up at her as I lather my hair.
She folds herself down to sit the bank and shrugs, "Twas not only in the Wilds I've had the misfortune of seeing them. Mother would often have me travel to the town we just passed through to trade for supplies. There were times when I was a child that she would use me as bait to lure them into the swamps, then we'd strip their corpses of what useful items we could find."
"She used you as bait? That's awful!" I exclaim while rinsing the soap out of my locks, "Why would she do that to a child?"
"Why do you care about it so much?" I'm startled at the edge in her tone.
"Why wouldn't I?" I counter, climbing out of the water and reaching for my towel, "You helped us when you didn't have to, which I will forever be grateful for, and now you're traveling with a band of lunatics led by the last two Grey Wardens in Ferelden who also happen to be trying to build an army to fight a Blight that we may or may not be able to stop. Besides, you're very interesting. And, if you wanted, you could ask me stuff about my life too. It's only fair."
The woman gets to her feet, an expression on her face a mix of confusion and disbelief, "Yes, well that is going to have to wait either way. Your faithful hound is heading this direction."
I give a sidelong long look to Havoc, who is still moping over his bath, then back to where Morrigan was standing, but she's nowhere to be found. With a sigh, I finish dressing and have just picked up my still wet but now laundered clothes when Alistair materializes.
"You've been gone so long, I was starting to get worri..." his voice trails off as I swing my wet hair over my shoulder, "Wow, you're hair is really long. I mean really really long! It's-"
"Annoying as all hell because it takes hours to dry?" I offer, too amused by his awed gaze to be upset about his over protectiveness.
He shakes his head while his fingers unconsciously reach out to play with the curls at my waist, "I was going to say glorious. I've never seen a woman with hair this long. Most of the women in the Chantry only let theirs grow to their shoulders and those that were Templars kept theirs even shorter."
"Sometimes I think I would have a much easier time if I cut mine that short," I confess while picking my way back up the path.
"Why would you do that? It's beautiful just the way it is. And that shade of red, so unique, I don't think I've ever seen anyone else with such a vibrant color. It's not a bad thing!" he adds when he sees my grimace, "Oh Maker's breath, I'm trying Lex. Templars are taught early on that things like this have no place in their lives. I must seem such a fool in comparison to the suitors you are used to having."
I turn around and stop him with a hand on his muscular chest, "Stop worrying so much Alistair. Whatever this is between us, whatever we are to each other, I can assure you that it is infinitely better than any of the arrogant, self serving half-wits that I've had to swallow my hatred for and play nice with."
"It's the hair, isn't it?" he smirks, effectively dissolving the bubble that had begun to build up around us, "I knew my amazing coif would come in handy one day."
"I think I understand your obsession with cheese now Ali. You recognize your own kind," I reply with a snorting laugh before pushing off of him and trekking back to camp.
He makes no move to follow me to my tent, much to my disappointment, but I remind myself that I was just as jumpy around him not a few days ago. Not to mention his utter lack of knowledge when it comes to the more adult aspects of a relationship.
I make quick work of my clothes, hanging them on a length of twine I'd tethered between two trees, before dipping inside of my shelter to retrieve my cloak. What I see brings me to a dead standstill.
Lying on my bedroll is a scarlet rose tied to a silver filigree bracelet with a strip of blue ribbon.
Yeah, so not attempting to write a scene that we all know by heart. Instead I did something similar to what my husband did with a necklace, using a bracelet instead.
