Chapter 9 – Campfire Nightmares
'We walked far that day, putting as much distance as we could between us and the town after breaking Sten free. We set up camp that night off the highway as we headed towards the Circle of Magi,' Nyra relayed to Lowena. 'Our first night as a group wasn't the easiest. We had new people with us, people we hadn't formed connections with – although Morrigan and Alistair didn't get along, at least they both knew neither would cause the other any harm.'
Alistair scoffed. 'No – that's what you kept telling me. I was pretty sure she'd turn me into something nasty the moment you turned your back.' Nyra smiled softly at her husband and shook her head. Even after all these years he couldn't find it in his heart to forgive the witch.
'Anyway, that first night was the night that the nightmares started for me. Hideous headaches followed them, and I didn't want to sleep after them – they were my first experience of what the humans call 'dreaming'.'
'Yes, and it wasn't fun. I ended up with a black eye.' Alistair scowled at his wife who just giggled.
'Why don't you tell her how that happened?'
Nyra's small fist caught him square in the eye. 'Maker, give me strength,' he hissed as he grabbed her arms and brought them to her side, pinning them as he hauled her against his body. 'Shhh, Nyra, it's okay, let it go.' She screamed loudly, almost deafening him, as her petite frame thrashed within the confines of sleep, her hands straining for freedom as she tried to fight him, or something, off.
'Why won't she stop?' Leliana asked her voice high. 'What is happening to her?'
'It's the nightmares.' Alistair looked up at their three companions who had gathered around the entrance to her tent. Leliana was concerned, whereas Sten seemed amused by the commotion. Morrigan however, with her normally perfect hair ruffled from sleep, looked ready to kill something. Probably me, he thought. 'All Grey Wardens suffer with them, it's part of the Taint. She's sensing the Darkspawn.'
'Oh great,' Morrigan sighed. 'Are we to be awoken every night in this manner?' Alistair glared hard at the witch. 'Oh I'm scared, Alistair, really, shaking in my boots. If that is all there is to this madness, I am going back to bed.' She turned and left the rest of the group to it.
'Hush,' Alistair whispered as he stroked her cheek, quickly forgetting about the others as he turned back to look at his fellow warden. 'I'm here for you.'
'Is there anything I can do to help?' Leliana softly asked. He shook his head no, continuing his soothing ministrations; Nyra was starting to still, her screams becoming whimpers, her hands now staying at her side. 'Let me know if I can, okay?'
'Thanks, Leliana.' She smiled at him and returned to her post. Sten shook his head before also walking away and returning to his bed.
'Come on, Nyra, wake up please. Let the vision go.' He continued to caress her cheek. She would awaken shortly, he knew that, but at the same time his mind kept recalling when she had previously been in his arms, when she had taken her last breath and let go of life. He felt a hollow in his stomach and forced his lips to take breath as he tried to throw off the memory. A few moments later he breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as her eyes finally began to flutter open.
'Well hello, sleeping beauty, you finally waken.'
Her eyes opened and closed a few times before she finally focused her gaze upon him, her eyes clouded with confusion. His hand stroked her jaw softly as his eyes traced her face, lingering upon her lips as her tongue swept over them.
'Certainly an interesting way to wake up,' she said, and watched as his cheeks flooded with colour. 'Definitely a lot more comfortable than the floor.'
'Ah-ha! Yes, that's what I was doing, ensuring our fearless leader isn't left out of battle with backache.'
'Oh, how thoughtful.' She smiled at him. 'But seriously, what's going on?' She flexed her arms slightly; he realised he was still holding them to her sides with his one arm and relaxed his grip upon her. She smiled in gratitude and tired to sit up.
'You don't remember? You were having a nightmare and screamed bloody murder. I thought the Archdemon had come for tea,' he told her as he helped her up.
Her brows knitted together; 'I remember a giant dragon… I think.' She shook her head, trying to make sense of what she had seen, completely unsettled by the experience.
'That was the Archdemon.'
'I don't understand. I don't dream, the Dwarva don't dream. Not like that anyway…'
'It's all part of being a Grey Warden, we sense them, we see them, we're connected to them through the Taint. It gives us the power to do what we must, but it has its consequences…' He considered her for a moment, a thought popping into his head. 'Perhaps that's why you struggled to wake up. Being a dwarf and all. You gave me quite a fright; thought I was going to have to get Morrigan to silence you.' She glared at him and he held up his hands in peace, chuckling lightly. 'Okay, okay, I promise not to let Morrigan anywhere near you when you're sleeping – nightmares or no.'
The tent flap fluttered as a light breeze blew through the camp, the fire light caught his face and she took in a soft breath as she saw the bruise marring his handsome features. She reached out a delicate hand to caress his faintly swollen eye. 'What happened?'
He winced slightly, bringing his large hand up to still her exploration; 'That, my fair lady, is what you did to me.' Her mouth formed a small 'oh.'
'I did that?' Her cheeks turned pink as his hand slid to her wrist, his large thumb stroking the inside of it.
'Don't worry about it,' he murmured, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in her tent, a tent so small she was almost still in his lap. He looked down at her; her long white hair was loose and hung wildly around her face, making her look much younger than when she wore it back. Her steel-blue eyes were dark in the little light that entered the tent and her skin was flushed. He didn't think that she had ever looked as beautiful as right then – it just wasn't possible.
'Perhaps,' he swallowed and took a deep breath, 'it will give pretty ladies, like yourself, a reason swoon over me. I've heard that wounded soldiers get a lot of attention.'
'That they do,' her voice was husky, as she looked up at him through her long lashes. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned forwards.
'Nyra…'
'Alistair I –'
WOOF! Bert stuck his head in the tent and licked Nyra's face happily, ensuring she was alive and well. She burst out laughing and rubbed the dog's head, disentangling her hand from Alistair's. She looked at him as Bert happily snuffled her. His cheeks burned with embarrassing heat as he rubbed the back of his head nervously – had he really been going to kiss her? Did she think he had been?
'Come on,' she said making her way out of the tent, breaking the awkward moment between them. 'It's probably our turn at watch.'
They pulled themselves out of the tent and Alistair watched as she approached Leliana, telling her to go and get some rest for the night. He had no idea what had come over him just moments before. He was certainly attracted to her and Flemeth had all but said he would fall in love, that it would give him the strength to make the choices to save her life… even if it hurt her.
He shook his head, he didn't want to hurt her, but, according to the witch, he was going to have to at some point. If he was to save her he couldn't let his heart lead, he couldn't allow her to see him as anything other than a friend… if he had to betray her, at least her heart wouldn't break over him.
He snorted at his thoughts; Listen to you, his mind mocked him. Acting as if she has eyes only for you, as if you're the most important person in the world to her. For all you know she's got a husband back in Orzammar, someone waiting for her, someone sick with worry about how she is. All she's done is treat you as an equal, as a fellow Warden. Why would a woman like her, look at someone like you?
He shook his head, trying to block out the mocking voice that had haunted him for as long as he could remember. No-one wants you and no-one will.
'I always made Alistair do the perimeter walk,' Nyra told Lowena. 'He had longer legs than me so he could get it done quicker.'
'You always try and use my legs as an excuse… "Alistair could you fetch me some water please? Alistair can you go and get so and so? Alistair, whilst you're up could you pass me that?"' He shook his head in disbelief. 'And every time I ask why you can't do it…'
'"You're legs are longer than mine!"' they chorused.
Nyra giggled as Alistair glared at her before grinning foolishly. He loved hearing her laugh. Sometimes he was glad that she was the big scary commander to others and only he was privy to her musical laughter, but at the same time he thought it so wonderful that it was a shame the world was deprived of it.
'When I came back from the perimeter walk, Nyra was deep in thought planning our route throughout Ferelden.'
Nyra was deep in thought when Alistair sat beside the campfire, leaning back against the log that separated the fire from their tents; he rested his head back and looked up to the stars. Although he, Nyra and Morrigan had travelled throughout the Wilds together to get to Lothering, when night had fallen the three of them had taken separate watches. This was the first time he was able to spend some real time alone with Nyra since they had first met; even when in Flemeth's hut they had constantly been interrupted by one of the witches.
There were so many things he wanted to ask her; he didn't even know why she was exiled. She could be anyone, have done anything, and although that was the way of the Grey Wardens as a general rule, they were the only two left now – they needed to trust one another. And how can I trust someone I don't know?
But will you tell your secrets too? Another part of him questioned. It works both ways.
'Okay, I know I mentioned this briefly back in that town,' Nyra murmured quietly, as she continued to look over the map. 'But our first point of call is the mage tower. I estimate about a sixteen day trek.'
'Try twelve if we push ourselves.' He didn't look at her as he spoke, his mind still a million miles away.
'I have little legs remember.'
'Then ride the dog.' Bert woofed from his position and Alistair chuckled. 'See, he doesn't mind.'
'Alistair.' He sighed and raised his head to look at her. Her eyes were filled with concern; she made to say something before closing her mouth and returning to her map.
'We'll aim for sixteen – we might be able to do it quicker, but we don't want to be exhausted should we come up against any more of Loghain's men, or… anything else we don't like. Have you ever been there before?'
'Once, as part of my templar training I had to attend a Harrowing – it was not a happy experience I'm afraid.' He grimaced at the thought, resting his head back to the log, thinking of the day he had been taken to the Circle and led to that chamber at the very top of the tower. He had watched as the pretty young girl was led into the room, her short, curly red hair tucked behind her ears, her eyes wide with apprehension and uncertainty. He closed his eyes as he remembered watching her reach for the pedestal at the centre of the room and then passing out as her fingers touched it.
'What's a Harrowing?'
He had been waiting for that question.
'Remember I told you how we were able to stop apostates and maleficars?' He assumed she nodded. 'Well there's another danger from the Magi – demons. Mages walk the fade when they sleep, they tap into the fade to use their spells, and they are able to summon things from it and control them if we allowed it to happen. However, because of this, they are prime targets for the demons that live within the fade.
'When they go into their Harrowing they are set against a demon, it is more than likely their first encounter with one, and they are tested to see if they can resist its lures. If the demon comes back with them, we have to kill them.' He peered through one eye towards her.
'Oh,' Nyra shrugged, still looking over her map. 'Fair enough – makes sense, you don't want demons running around on the loose.'
'However, they have a time limit. If they don't wake up, demon or no, in a set time, they kill them.'
At that Nyra's head shot up. He raised his own to look at her. Many people in Ferelden didn't see a problem with what the Templar's did. The Magi were looked down upon almost as much as elves, no one wanted one in their family, they were trouble, and the quicker rid of them the better.
'Wait,' she said, narrowing her eyes. 'So just because they take too long, they're killed? No discussion?' He shook his head. 'No trial?' He looked a little confused, but shook his head again. 'And no one protests this? The mages don't question it?' For the third time he shook his head. 'Bastards!' she hissed. She looked towards the fire, her body rigid, shoulders square; her whole countenance radiated her anger.
He had expected some sort of nonchalant answer from her, after all the dwarves were not known for their tolerance, but for her to exclaim such fury intrigued him. What did a dwarf have in common with a circle mage?
'Did the woman wake up? In time, that is.' Her voice was quiet and… hopeful?
'No.' Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head sadly.
'Was it you who had to…?'
'Yes.' His voice was bitter and hard.
She said something harsh in her native Dwarven tongue. He didn't understand the words, but he got the sentiment.
'I didn't have much interest in becoming a full Templar after that. But, unlike the others, I had no choice about my training, or my life at the chantry.' He sighed and stared into the fire, his mind a whirl with thoughts of his unhappy childhood, his isolated teenage years, and now alone, all of his friends killed by a traitorous bastard, who claimed to have been his father's best friend. He would have no problem killing Loghain without question or a trial.
'Every day I thank Duncan for coming to that tournament, for asking me to fight, and taking me away from there…' he trailed away as his voice became deep with emotion.
'You haven't spoken much of him since… well, since we were thrown into this. Do you want to talk?'
'You don't have to do that,' he said quietly. In all honesty, he had tried not to think about his mentor, had tried not to dwell on the deaths of his friends. When he did, he became angry, desperate for vengeance with a lust for blood. It wasn't him, and he didn't like it.
'I just thought you might need to talk… when my mother died, my father talked non-stop of her to me. My step-mother didn't like it, but it was something we both needed. He was like a father to you, I understand that, and I just thought…' she trailed off as she watched large tears form in his amber eyes and fall onto his cheeks.
'I've tried to handle it like he said I should,' his voice was gruff, coated with emotion that was desperate to escape. 'He told me it could happen – that any of us could die in battle. He told me that I'd have to go on without him one day… I've been trying to do that-' A huge hiccupping sob escaped his lips and he wiped his eyes furiously, trying to stem the flow of tears.
'Don't hold it back, Alistair,' Nyra said quietly, her voice tender and kind, as she came over to him. She knelt at his side and tried to draw him to her, wrapping her arms around him, allowing him the chance to let his pain escape. He refused to move and didn't yield to her embrace; if he did he'd be weak. He had to be the warrior that Duncan expected him to be; that she needed him to be. He had promised he wouldn't see her hurt, that he'd take care of her, it wasn't supposed to be her taking care of him.
'Let it out. If you hold it in, it will eat away at you, fester within you until you're gone and all that's left is emptiness and… anger. Duncan wouldn't want that for you.' He shifted towards her slightly, her warmth and softness enticing him near, but still he tried to hold back the sobs that wanted to escape. He had never had anyone hold him before, had never had anyone to turn to when he was upset, when he had needed to unburden himself from the pain he endured.
When he had been sent to the Chantry in Denerim for his Templar training, he and a couple of other boys his age had quickly learnt that no one wanted to hear your story, no one wanted to comfort your pain or stem the flow of your tears. There was only you and the Maker, and it was he that you should turn to when you hurt.
'If you do not grieve them, do not share their memory, you do them no honour-' Another huge sob escaped him and this time he turned into her embrace, holding her tightly he buried his head into her chest and allowed his grief to spill out. The Maker had never done this for him. The Maker had never whispered soothing words in his ear, or wrapped him in soft, warm arms. The Maker had never gently stroked his hair, nor had the Maker tickled his nose with the smell of fire and ice. And never had the Maker ever made him feel so welcome and at home.
After a time his sobs subsided and he slowly relaxed his grip upon her small frame, but the softness of her bosom and her warm whisperings caressing his ear, stopped him from completely releasing her. This was what he should have had in his life; comfort and support, not the isolation and disregard he had faced throughout it.
'I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. Maybe once all this is done, if we're still alive,' he murmured against her. 'I don't think he had a family to speak of.'
'What about the other Grey Wardens?' she asked as she pulled back from him slightly, forcing him to lift his head and look at her. He relished the fact that her small arms were still around him. 'He may have been like a father to you, but they were your brothers too.'
'I… I don't know. I don't know what the Grey Wardens do when one of us fall in battle, but we should do something to commemorate them all. Dwarves don't practice cremation do they?' he thought aloud.
'We entomb our dead within the stone beneath our thaigs. Their spirits return to the rock, strengthening their foundations.' A grin crossed her face. 'Then we go and have a giant piss up at the nearest tavern and tell tales about the departed. Good times.'
He laughed at the image of her drunk. Dwarves were known for their ability to drink, but he couldn't image her being able to stomach the stuff. 'I bet you're a cheap drunk.' Her hair was still loose and he brushed it from her face, his hand tangling within it.
'I'd drink you under the table any day!' she retorted, as she reached up and brushed away the last of his tears, her fingers lingering at his jaw.
'I should think the dog could drink him under the table.' Morrigan's smooth voice interrupted them. Their arms dropped away quickly, and Nyra turned to face the witch as she approached the fire. Alistair gritted his teeth; he had so many questions to ask her and another chance to get to know his partner was ruined by the witch's presence.
'Morrigan,' Nyra greeted the woman coolly.
'I could not sleep after you awoke me with your screams.'
'Oh, sorry,' she muttered.
'You've got nothing to apologise for,' Alistair told her, glaring at Morrigan. The witch ignored him and sat down at the fire, her arms stretching along the length of a second log as she leaned back across it, closing her eyes and relaxing.
Nyra shuffled back to her map and began staring at it once again, tracing the lines of the roads. Her fingers fell on Denerim and her face frowned. She seemed to contemplate something as she nibbled at her bottom lip again. He wondered what was perplexing her so.
'So,' she said after a while, her eyes telling him she had finally made whatever decision had been on her mind. 'Off to the Tower and then on to Denerim. I have a… contact there – I hope – and we need information. We need an ear on what's going on there, and we can't rely on idle gossip we hear.'
'Ah, going directly after Loghain, I approve,' Morrigan drawled, although she hadn't moved a muscle. If he hadn't heard her voice he would swear she hadn't spoken. 'Much easier to go about the rest of this treaty business after he has been dispatched.'
'No,' Nyra shook her head; she hadn't even looked up at the witch. He wondered if it was only him who liked to look at people when they spoke. 'It wouldn't be wise to go after him there. Even though I might be able to get past his guards and do the deed, we have no support. The crown would be up for grabs – your queen isn't true nobility – and the nobles would split for sure… no, we just need to know what's going on, and what moves he's making.'
Alistair waited for Morrigan to protest or comment her disagreement that Nyra was wrong, but she did nothing. If it wasn't for the hypnotic rise and fall of her barely covered breasts – how did she get away with wearing such a garment? – he would have thought she was dead.
'Once we've seen and heard the situation there with the humans we'll be able to head south again to the forest… I heard back in Lothering that the Dalish wander a little further south this time of year – they might not have heard of the Blight yet. Then we'll have two of the treaties sorted. After that I thought that we'd look up your Arl friend, see what he has to offer to us before you go and secure the armies of the Dwarva and then it's off to fight-'
'Wait,' his head snapped away from Morrigan's hypnotic chest. The witch suddenly raised her head and glanced at the two of them. 'You said before I go and get the dwarves, me… and where will you be?'
'Cheering you on from Redcliff?' she said hopefully, fluttering her eyelashes at him, trying to look sweet and innocent. Morrigan snorted at her dismal attempt.
'Oh no, fair lady, you're not getting out of that one! If I have to go to Denerim, you have to go to Orzammar.'
'I can't go to Orzammar, Alistair, I was exiled. My name has been stricken from the memories, I am no longer a child of the stone – I am no longer welcome there.'
'Then we'll just have to sneak you in.'
'Fool,' the witch muttered.
'Have you ever been to Orzammar?' Nyra asked him, ignoring Morrigan's attempt at trying to rile them.
'No,'
'Well Orzammar is protected by these massive, huge doors – seriously picture the biggest door you can imagine and then double it.'
'That's a big door.'
'Yup,' she smiled at him. He felt himself smiling back, forgetting about the witch sitting not far from them, completely captivated by her eyes that seemed to twinkle at him. 'But you're still not really getting the gist of how big they are. Anyway, these giant doors are guarded by some of the finest guards Orzammar has to offer – lots of them. A full battalion.'
'Starting to get the picture,' he chuckled. 'But it doesn't matter – you're no longer the Nyra they knew, as you said that person doesn't exist anymore. You are Nyra the Grey Warden, and she's not been exiled from Orzammar.'
She stared for a long time at the flames in front of her before she spoke, her voice soft as if she was far away. 'I will try, Alistair, I'll try, that's all I'm promising – but if they refuse, you will have to do it alone – we cannot risk completely alienating them from this, we need them.'
'Nyra, I'm not a leader – bad things happen when I lead, remember. We get lost, people die, and then next thing you know I'm stranded somewhere without any pants!'
She burst out laughing and shook her head. 'Now why didn't I see that in the Wilds?'
'I, for that reason alone, am grateful that you are our leader, Nyra.' Morrigan shuddered at the image of him pantless.
'I have a question,' he began, 'but you don't have to answer it if you don't want to.' Nyra looked at him sceptically for a moment before slowly nodding her head. 'You've said you were exiled, but you've never said why. What did you do?'
She bit her lip before letting out a long, weighted sigh. 'I was accused of killing my older brother.'
'Did you?' It was Morrigan who posed the question, her interest piqued.
'No, I was framed.'
'Do you know who did it?' Alistair asked with wide surprised eyes.
'Do you mean do I know who cut his throat or who ordered it?' Alistair looked at her confused, not sure what she meant. Morrigan sighed in frustration.
'Who ordered it. Obviously if someone framed her, they are not going to risk doing the deed themselves – they are required to be free to point the finger.'
'My younger brother.' Alistair's eyes grew wider, even Morrigan looked taken aback. 'He set us both up – and he must have been planning it for a long time… we just never took any notice of him. No one did. That's what makes it so easy for him to look innocent. He never did anything. Ever.'
'Why?' Alistair asked. Nyra shrugged and looked away from them both. He realised that that was all he was going to get from her for now. Trust had to be earned, and he had yet to earn it completely he realised. He didn't know a lot about dwarven politics, but he wondered was murder always rewarded with such a dire decision such as walking the Deep Roads, or was there something more to her tale? Perhaps she had been more than just a Captain in the army and an example had to be made to those below her?
'Alistair,' Morrigan's voice was low. 'Women are supposed to have secrets. Nyra should not spill them all so soon. 'Tis my time for watch,' the witch said as she yawned. 'Perhaps you should both retire for the eve.'
Alistair stood up, he didn't need to be told twice, but Nyra remained seated. 'You're tired, Morrigan and it's my fault. Why don't you go back to sleep and I'll keep watch. I don't think I'd be able to sleep much anyway.'
'As you wish.' Morrigan looked her over once before pulling herself up and returning to her set up.
'Good night, Nyra.' Alistair turned and made his way to his tent, but stopped when Nyra's soft voice called to him.
'As much as you profess to hate her, Alistair,' Nyra forced a lightness to her tone. 'You look at her chest an awful lot.'
Okay, so I have almost rewritten Chapter 10 to my satisfaction (kinda), and it should be sent to my wonderful beta Jo, this evening. I have rewritten chapter 10 about 8 times, no joke. My problem is, I wrote up to chapter 10 before I started posting and I now have up to chapter 12 finished and 13 started. However, as I was re-reading a few chapters, I decided that this chapter needed a huge overhaul and then chapter 10 needed to be completely rewritten! Luckily 11 doesn't need too much tweaking now, and 12 is unaffected! YEY! So I'll go get back to writing now so you guys can get Chapter 10 asap!
