Missa was walking with Morrigan on their way to Denerim, trying to think of something to say. While they all fell back into the cliques they kept to while travelling, the witch was currently not in a good mood and suffered her company under silence.
She gave up trying to talk then, and rubbed a hand at the back of her neck. A ghost of pain whispered across her thighs at the movement and she thought of the bruises that lingered there, unaware she was smiling.
Of course her actions did not go unnoticed. "I am glad one of us had a good time while I was doing your ridiculous dirty work for you in the Fade," she said snippily.
Missa fixed her a short look in disbelief, thinking of the funerals and the broken state Redcliffe was left in. "I doubt that, Morrigan."
The witch poked the bruise forming on her collarbone. Missa patted it, angry at her sudden embarrassment. "Bastard," she muttered. Ser Perth had obviously left his mark, and Missa pulled the cloak around her quickly to cover it up.
"Indeed." Morrigan was still glaring, this time at the floor. Missa worked out then why the woman was annoyed with her, thinking back to the night of the ritual. She had spent the hours hand wringing, finally meeting with Bann Teagan in his study for a mutually contrite vigil while they waited for news. Missa could see then how the Witch would connect her apparently obvious demeanour to her time with the visibly flirtatious Teagan.
They walked in silence for a moment as Missa started to kick herself mentally. "Sorry Morrigan," she said after awhile.
Morrigan continued to look affronted, and gripped the hold on her staff tightly. "I don't know why you're apologising to me on such matters. 'Tis none of my business."
Missa looked around to check no one could hear their conversation. Leliana was singing to Sten and Alistair walked in front with Dog; everyone was oblivious to the pair of them. "I don't mean …that, exactly. I mean about the ritual Jowan and you did. If I could have done it in your place, I would've. But… I assumed you would do it. And I'm sorry I didn't really ask you properly."
The Witch rolled her eyes. "I'm sure," she replied icily.
Missa frowned and chewed a fingernail. "Yeah. Well, I know Redcliffe wasn't exactly a bundle of laughs for everyone. Things were a bit grim."
"That remains to be seen. Tell me of this grimness you experienced, hmm? Will it help defeat the Blight, I wonder?"
Missa laughed loudly and freely. Leliana looked over her shoulder and caught her eye, looking at the outburst inquisitively. "This? From you? Of all people? You're judging me on that?"
Morrigan backed down a little, flustered. "I merely meant-"
"I knew what you meant. Don't begrudge me a distraction, Morrigan. Stone knows I needed one."
There was never going to be an apology. After awhile, however, Morrigan spoke up again. "Was he at least worth it?"
Missa thought of slick, sweat covered backs, a muscled torso and broad, biteable shoulders. "Oh yes. So very much." Morrigan chuckled, and the subject was dropped.
Leliana decided to sing after their meal; a common occurrence, but this time Missa was listening in. As the bard finished with a strum of her lute, she made a show of applauding. Leliana bowed elegantly and placed her lute reverently on her pack, taking out at little wooden box containing her tools used to clean and oil her instrument.
"What was that song about, Leli?" Missa asked.
"That one? Oh, it is bittersweet- it is about a Mother's love. It was in Orlesian, but the meaning is the same in all tongues, no? 'Maman chérie tu m'as donné, un jour la vie qui est là dans ton coeur… Je sais maintenant pourquoi tes pleurs, Maman je te dis merci.'" Leliana spoke the lyrics instead of singing, and looked sad. "I thought it was fitting to sing. Considering…"
Missa let the words sink in for a moment. "What does it mean?" She realised that she was probably not going to like the answer, but asked anyway.
"Ah, let me see. It does not translate well into Fereldian, but… 'Mama dear you gave me life, it is there in your heart. I know why you cry, Mama, and I thank you.' It is a song about the hardship of being a mother, and I sing it from the point of view of a loving son who finally realises the love and sacrifice she gave him."
"Love and sacrifice," Missa repeated hollowly.
Leliana was no fool, and could see she was upset. "The burden of being a mother, or so I am told. I do not remember much about mine, but I know I was loved. I have come to terms with this and count myself lucky, when I realised that many do not get even that." The bard flicked a quick gaze at Alistair, who stood apart from them, refusing to take part in the conversation.
Missa found she was tightening her hands. "That's… That's nice, Leli. Really, it is. Thank you for singing it." She rose quickly, and walked away.
As she walked past Alistair, he stopped her. "I think we, uh, we need more water and wood," he said awkwardly. She looked up at his face and pulled out of his hold, knowing he wanted only to talk.
"I suppose." The pair walked on, and Dog decided to join in on their ramble; Alistair tried to find dry wood on the ground and the mabari looked at him expectantly, waiting for a stick to be thrown. They made the short distance to the stream, and she filled their waterskins quickly.
"Your family…" He started to ask. "Do you have one? I remember you saying something about your sister and mother." Missa stopped then, hands on hips. If she wasn't currently trying to process the guilt she felt every time she looked at him she would have bitten his head off by now.
"What about them?" She said shortly.
"Just... What are they like?" He finally threw a stick for Dog to chase.
Missa clenched her fists harder. "I suppose it's only fair you ask."
Dog returned and Alistair threw the now slobber-covered piece of wood away from them again. "Actually, never mind. I didn't mean to pry. I only ask, because… Look, I don't exactly have a family. My Mother died and my Father, well… You know. The Arl and his wife," and at mention of Isolde his voice hitched slightly, "it... It wasn't normal. She was... Well, I was nothing to her, some kind of mistake she didn't want around her home. So I don't know what normal is, you see."
"It's all right," she said a little quickly. "I'm probably not the best person to ask about this, though," and she though of Dust Town and her broken little childhood. "Not all mothers are worthy of being sung about."
He was silent then, and Missa knew he was thinking about the pendant. "I… wouldn't know."
She refused to look at him and watched the babbling stream instead. "My mother is incapable of anything that resembles what Leliana was on about, so I wouldn't know either, salroka. If I found out she died today, you know what? I wouldn't care."
He shifted on his feet slightly and heard his oiled armour sound in protest. "That's harsh," he replied. Missa looked up at Alistair and nearly snarled, tempted to vent her own bitterness and rage at him just like he did to her.
She calmed down, and somehow she was talking again. "Really? Probably is. Daughters are meant to love their mothers, even if they're drunk hags. Is that right?" Her dark eyes glittered then, goading him to answer.
"Forgiveness is good for the soul, or so I've been taught. She's still your mother."
Missa walked away to put a distance between them so she would not do something stupid. "I was beaten if I said something she didn't like. I begged for forgiveness then. I told her that I was sorry."
"I'm sorry, I... I had no idea," he said sadly. She shrugged at that and smiled humourlessly.
"Eh, who does? Not everyone wears their suffering like a badge, Alistair. I'm still alive, and she can't touch me anymore. That's all I need to know."
He looked smaller then, and fiddled with the strap of his shield before speaking. "What did she do to you?"
She laughed once at that. "Enough, though I didn't get it as bad as some kids. One time she so was drunk that she managed to crack a blow to my head, and I bled everywhere. I screamed so loudly at the sight of it I woke the entire street, but head wounds usually bleed a lot, right? I must've been eight… I think? Maybe younger. I had to pretend I fell over. I did a lot of that, before I knew how to fight back anyway."
She paused, glad he wasn't talking. Missa didn't exactly want to keep on, but somehow she was. "I can't fully close this finger," and she pointed it out to Alistair then, "because my hand got slammed in a door. I think that was for I knocking over her drink once."
Dog whined at her and butted her leg. This time she picked up the now-soggy stick and threw it across the stream, refusing to face the pity Alistair was showing.
"It's interesting," she continued, voice calm. "It was never my sister that got it, always me. I shoulda grown up resenting her, but Rica… She protected me in her own way. Practically raised me, to be honest- despite being a kid herself. I didn't know what I did that was wrong most of the time, but it taught me to fend for myself as soon as I was able, and it taught me that sometimes you have to look after you as no one else will. Rica wasn't everywhere."
"Your sister? Where is she now?" He asked quietly.
"Safe, I think. If I know Rica, she's found a way to live. It's what we do. You and Leliana," she said then, allowing herself one moment of bitterness, "you have it easier."
"Really?" Alistair replied roughly. Dog gave up trying to badger them into throwing his toy and led by her feet, panting.
"Because you can put your Mams on a plinth and they can be paragons of motherhood. You can pretend what they were like, and look back and not know. And not remember."
"It was all such unending misery? I'd rather have something then nothing." Alistair crossed his arms defensively and she raised her eyebrow at his movements.
"And I'd rather have nothing," she snapped. "I would have killed for your life when I was kid, salroka. I really would have. So many times I went to bed and prayed that my Mam would disappear when I woke up."
"That's… Missa, I'm sorry I brought this up," and he closed the gap between them.
She laughed again and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand briefly. "Why? I'm not sorry, not as if I can change the past. I've learnt to deal with it, and it taught me how to look after myself. Something you should start doing for yourself, Alistair." She poked a gloved hand onto the breastplate of his armour, and he let his hands hang limply by his sides.
"Was there nothing you had back home?" He asked.
Missa thought about the good times, where there was food on the table after she came in from the street after playing skimstone and dead duster with her friends, all of them stupid kids full of hope that they would be heroes and married to rich nobles.
"Yeah, sure there was. But… The more I am here," and here her voice broke slightly, guilty at her own omission, "the more I don't want to go back. It was always at the back of my mind that I would return to Dust Town, doing what I don't know... But now I don't want to, not anymore."
Alistair put a hand on her shoulder, and she glanced up at the contact. "You're tougher then anyone I've ever met," he said quietly.
"Because I've had to be." She fixed him a look, and wondered if she should push him into a lecture of survival. Instead she sighed a little wistfully, rubbing a booted foot on Dog's proffered tummy. "You know, it's funny. As I got older I worked out it wasn't exactly me Mam was angry at, and sometimes I pity her for it. But it's not enough to forgive, not just yet."
Alistair paused at that, then removed his hand. "I understand, I think." Missa thought he didn't, but shrugged anyway.
"Eh, it's done with now." Missa stopped talking looked away from him. He shuffled on his feet, unsure what to do and say. Finally he bundled his wood and gestured back to the camp.
"I'm going to head back. You've… given me a lot to think about. I," he shuffled his feet, uncomfortable, "I have a sister, too, you see. I would like to find her. The next time we're in Denerim. If we have time, that is. It's all right if we're too busy. But, maybe she could tell me what my mother really was like." Dog rose expectantly and stretched out on his front paws in front of her. A nudge to hindquarters gave him the answer needed and he followed the man back to camp, but not before covering her boot in slobber.
It was nice to be alone for awhile; Missa needed some time to put settle some memories back into place and hide them again. She had no idea how long she waited there before she realised she was being watched. A twig snapped and she unsheathed her daggers, eyes darting to the shadows quickly.
"'Tis only I," and Morrigan revealed herself across the stream, appearing from shadows.
"Morrigan," Missa said with nod, flicking her daggers into a less threatening position. "How much of that did you hear?" She asked, not really caring that the witch had or not.
Morrigan appraised her coolly, then looked away. "It was hard not to overhear the fool speak, he is hardly quiet."
Missa laughed freely. "His voice does carry, doesn't it?" She looked at the woman then, so desperate to say something. Morrigan frowned slightly at her, perhaps thinking the same. "Ah, let's go back. Alistair unsupervised is a bad thing. He might set his tent on fire, or need his shoelaces tied or something."
They continued their journey to Denerim, the sun peeking out of the clouds. The fine weather put most in a good mood, despite the night's heavy discussion. Leliana started to sing again, and Missa rolled her eyes; Morrigan caught the gesture and smirked.
"Must we put up with your constant noise everywhere we go, bard?" Morrigan asked, golden eyes mulish even in the sunlight.
Alistair actually laughed. "We'll dance with all the darkspawn we come across."
The bard ended her song with a hey nonny no and took the teasing good naturedly. "A simple reminder that there should be joy and beauty even in darkness is a wonderful thing."
"I already dance good with darkspawn, Leli."
"And a pretty dance it is too," Alistair said smoothly.
Missa aimed a kick at his arse with a grin. "Liar, liar, codpiece on fire."
It was midday when they discovered they weren't alone. A woman saw them on the path, running up to their group. She hysterically told them about an attack, and Missa reacted with a barely suppressed groan.
Missa crossed her arms and looked sideways at the group. Alistair shrugged and pulled out his sword, and they all followed. As they arrived into a clearing, she knew exactly what she walked into and leapt as a trap swung towards her.
She saw archers trailing their movements, and traps littering the path. It was a nice set up, and if she wasn't intent on not getting killed she would be taking a step back to observe it all before things descended into chaos.
Missa looked around her quickly, trying to work things out. "I knew it," she said to no one in particular, and gestured to Morrigan to start taking out those looking down a shaft of an arrow at them.
"The grey wardens die here, now!" She heard, and threw herself into the fight.