The Awakening

A Dragon Age Fanfiction

By Bionca Femme

Chapter 9: The Taint in the dark

The next day Alistair awoke to the sound of humming. A woman's voice, soft and melodious was humming something he didn't recognize and he cracked an eyelid open just in time to see Sidona opening the door and taking a tray of food from a maid. She thanked the girl with a smile and closed the door almost silently, not noticing yet that he was awake. He watched as she set the tray down on the small table in her room. Sidona frowned lightly as she noticed that there were correspondences on the tray and she picked them up with a heavy sigh, popping the seal on one and opening it.

Alistair quietly propped himself up onto one elbow and looked her over. Her hair was slightly messy and she wore a cream colored robe made of silk that did nothing to hide the fact that she was nude underneath. Her hips were cocked to the left and she nibbled her lower lip as her eyes scanned the vellum. He was admiring her form with a wolfish grin when she made a disapproving noise.

"Merde!" she hissed in frustration and tossed the vellum into the fire.

"Bad news, I take it?" he inquired, laughing lightly as she turned her scowl on him.

"Sergeant Maverlies has found a cave in beneath the Vigil. She believes it is why the dark spawn were able to penetrate our defenses so easily," she pinched the bridge of her nose. "I do not know how that could be, we had almost no warning before they came upon us. I refuse to believe that they were able to mask their existence from us long enough to tunnel beneath our feet!" she reached upwards and ran her fingers through her hair and then gestured to the tray. "I had food sent up, my love. I apologize," she crossed the room and climbed up onto the bed with him, draping herself over him and skimming her lips over his. "I had planned to wake you up with kisses and strawberries. Alas, they are out of season in this cold country and I fear you spoiled my plan," she pouted theatrically.

Alistair made a scoffing noise. "My dear Lady, kisses are never out of season in Fereldan!" he declared and pulled her downwards for a passionate kiss. When they pulled apart he smiled devilishly as she whimpered at the loss of contact. "That, my love, is a proper Fereldan good morning kiss," he grinned. "No silly strawberries required."

She raised a dark red brow at him. "Oh? Is this how you say good morning in Fereldan? Well," she trailed a fingertip over his chest, scratching lightly through his light brown chest hair. "Perhaps I should show you how we do such things in Orlais, yes?"

She leaned forwards and caught his lower lip between her teeth nibbling lightly and then sucking it into her mouth gently. Once she released his lip her tongue darted out and licked it soothingly, then she closed the distance between them. The kiss was slower, gentler, somehow more like a conversation than a kiss.

When she pulled away it was his turn to whimper and she giggled. He smiled back at her goofily. "Mmm, I like that," he growled low in his throat and pulled her against him.

His lips fell to her throat and she put her palms on his chest, "Alistair?" she gasped.

"Mmm?" he mumbled into the crook of her neck.

"Oh!" she gasped again as his hands slid into the opening of her robe and his fingertips tickled along her ribcage. "We need to...ah...eat something...then...mmm...we need to-," her head fell back and her eyes fluttered closed as he opened her robe fully and caressed her naked breasts.

"Later..." he mumbled and continued his ministrations.

Much later...

Alistair whistled tunelessly as he bounded down the Vigil steps. He was heading towards Herren with his new shield to see about putting a Grey Warden livery on it. He was so caught up in thinking about his morning tryst with Sidona that he was caught totally unawares by the sudden presence of an arm draped over his shoulder.

"You dog!" Anders grinned at him and ruffled the ex-templar's hair.

Alistair shrugged Anders off him violently and scowled, before trying to set his hair to rights. "Andraste's flaming sword! What's gotten into you, Anders!"

"Ah, ah, ah!" Anders waggled an admonishing finger at him. "You shagged the Commander didn't you?" when Alistair failed to answer the Mage used the finger he'd waggled at him to poke the ex-Templar in the ribs. "Didn't you?" he poked him again.

"Ow! Stop that!" Alistair glared at the Mage indignantly and held up his shield to ward off the poking appendage. "A gentleman never tells!"

Anders gave the ex-templar a knowing look. "You did!"

"Don't you have to go play with that flea-ridden beast you're always carrying around?" Alistair shot back.

"Oh now, that hurts!" Anders clutched his chest comically. "Don't insult my cat just cause you aren't man enough to own up to sticking your sword in the Commander!" he waggled his eyebrows at Alistair.

"Being man enough to own up to it and being stupid enough to brag about it are two different things," Alistair grumbled.

"You know, I don't know if you've noticed, but we sort of look alike... I wonder if the Commander would be interested in a little bit of the old Anders' spicy shimmy," Anders winced as Alistair cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Watch it!" Alistair warned.

"I think I see what's going on here," Anders rubbed the back of his head and glared at Alistair theatrically. "When young Alistair was a wee little Templar nobody ever taught him about sharing!" he ducked as Alistair swiped at him again.

Alistair gave Anders a dark expression. "If I even catch you looking at her, I will thrash you within an inch of your life!"

Anders eyes widened and was joined by a grin. "Oh, so that's the way of it, is it? Alistair is in love!"

Alistair blushed violently. "Alright, you know what? I don't have to listen to this. I'm going that way and you're going the other way and if you follow me...I. Will. Smite. You," he gave the mage a curt nod and stomped off.

Anders cackled evilly to himself. "I've got to tell Zev this one!" he exclaimed and rushed off to find the blond elf.

It was not too long after, that Alistair was summoned to meet Sidona at the entrance to the deep cellars, the messenger told him that full armor and weaponry were required. Once he'd gotten himself ready he

made his way down to the courtyard and found that she was already there, waiting with Nathaniel and

Zevran.

The smirk on the elven man's face and the saucy wink he gave Alistair, told the Templar that he was already aware of the progress that had been made between he and his Commander. 'Note to self: Smite Mage,' Alistair growled inwardly. Although to be fair, he could hardly expect their new intimacy to remain secret as he'd carried her to her rooms to have his wicked way with her without so much as a thought to discretion. Every maid in the entire Keep had seen him stalk through the halls with her in his arms. He flushed and pulled himself out of the memory before it got too graphic only to realize that Sidona was giving them instructions.

"-have been cleared and there may be pockets of dark spawn. Please remember to let Alistair and me draw their attention. Nathaniel, if you can manage it, keep Zevran from being overwhelmed as he is not a Warden. I should hate for him to get sick," she said and smiled as Zevran inclined his head in thanks.

"Alright, let us go and see what we can see, yes?" she said brightly and slipped through the cellar door and into the darkness beyond.

One by one they entered the cellars and descended the stairs behind their Commander. Alistair's heart would slam against his ribcage every time her bright red head would disappear about the corner, only to speed up in a completely different way when she came into sight once more. When it became almost too much to bear he shouldered his way past the other two companions so that he could walk next to her. She gave him a gentle reassuring smile when she noticed his presence and it eased the tension within him slightly.

The stairway emptied out into a room, surrounded by statues of basilisks and Avaar barbarians. Alistair's eyebrows shot up and he examined the stone figures with great interest. "I heard that Amaranthine was still littered with evidence of the Avaar's. I just didn't realize that there were still things like this beneath the Vigil!" he exclaimed with fascination. No one answered him and he turned from the statue he was looking at to find both Nathaniel and Zevran watching as Sidona knelt down beside a wounded Mabari. Both men had their hands on their weaponry, in case the animal tried to bite her in its obvious pain.

Alistair approached slowly and knelt beside Sidona who was speaking to the beast in gentle quiet tones without touching it. "She's hurt pretty badly," he said sadly. "I don't know if she'll make it much longer."

Sidona looked up at him and saw the wetness in her eyes. He tensed, trying to overcome the desire to take her into his arms just then and comfort her, but now was not the time. She gave him a small smile though, letting him know that she was alright and he relaxed. Instead he watched as she cautiously reached out and slid a gentle hand over the Mabari's uninjured head soothingly. The tiny stump of a tail wagged pitifully in gratitude, thankful to receive this last comfort in its last moments, then the wagging and the uneven rise and fall of the beasts chest ceased and Sidona covered her mouth. Alistair did wrap and arm around her then, mindful of the plate armor they were both in. She sniffled and collected herself. "Thank you, mon cher," she said quietly and then reached forth again and withdrew a small slip of vellum that was tucked beneath the dog's collar.

Sidona read the paper out loud and turned at a gasp from Nathaniel. "You know the woman that wrote this?" she asked him.

Nathaniel nodded. "Adria, she was like a mother to me. Please, Commander. We must find her!"

Alistair rose and offered Sidona a hand up, which she took gratefully. Once she was standing she turned her attention back on Nathaniel. "You realize that she may have contracted the Blight disease, as did this poor creature?" she gestured to the lifeless dog at their feet.

"We must at least try!" Nathaniel insisted, the hardness that had started to dissipate from his features since the joining had returned.

"We will do what we can, but I want you to understand that there may be little we can do to help her. If she is infected we may have to perform our duty and provide her with peace," her words were firm but her eyes were sad, softening the blow of the message she was trying to get across.

Nathaniel nodded. "I understand."

The cellars were infested with dark spawn and ghouls, the deeper they went the less likely it seemed that they would find Nathaniel's foster mother unharmed. Upon entering the first room of darkspawn, they found a room lined with cells and filled with ghouls. They screeched and launched themselves at the newcomers, trying in vain to claw at their faces. Sidona and Alistair did not bother with trying to sort out if one of these unfortunate souls was Nathaniel's Adaia. As was the case with most mass infections, it was Grey Warden policy to exterminate the lot and let the Maker sort them out later.

After an examination of the people who had yet to succumb to the Taint in the only locked cell, Sidona freed them and told them to run. They scrambled over each other desperately to get away from the madness.

When they were gone Alistair noticed that Sidona's attention had been captured by a door that seemed locked. She looked at it contemplatively. "Nathaniel, what is behind this door?" she asked.

Nathaniel stood beside her and frowned at the door. "The crypt. I hardly think that Adria would have gone in there, however. It was forbidden," he said impatiently.

Sidona raised an eyebrow. "The taint cares not for such rules. We must go down there," she said.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then shut it again at the look of challenge in her eyes. "Yes, Commander," he replied with a frown and then stooped to a knee to pick the lock.

The lock seemed effortless to pick and Alistair had to wonder why such a forbidden place was so easy to break into. The door swung open and they found themselves once again descending into the dark.

The dark was not empty, sarcophagi lined the walls and the very walls themselves seemed to hold a glow that illuminated the room slightly, upon closer inspection they discovered that the walls were covered in a slimy substance that glowed slightly. Zevran took an old dry torch from the wall near the entrance and lit it and the one on the opposite side of the door. The room sprang to life and they realized that part of the room was sunken, stairs led down to another level which was also lined with sarcophagi. Avaar statues stood guard next too key holes on either side of the door.

Before he could stop her, Sidona had started to descend the steps. "Sidona," he hissed out in a whisper, almost as if he were afraid that being too loud would awaken whatever spirits haunted that place.

"Perhaps someone should tell her that we attract undead?" Zevran suggested.

Alistair shot him an impatient look. "Not helping!"

Zevran shrugged. "I am just pointing out that whenever you and I are together, it seems we find places where the dead walk, no? I think it would be a good thing if we warned our dear Commander of this."

"Its not like its something we're responsible for!" Alistair hissed out.

Zevran opened his mouth to respond when the sound of a pressure plate being pressed sounded below them. "Brosca!" Zevran swore and tore down the stairs.

Afraid for what his lover may have gotten herself into Alistair followed and found Sidona standing completely still with a horrified expression. "It was too dark for me to see it!" she explained. "Zevran, what will happen when I move?"

Zevran was kneeling before her, studying the pressure plate and trying to ascertain what kind of trap it was. "Any number of terrible things my dear," he replied. "You should keep your pretty foot still, lest Alistair be scraping what's left of you off the walls, no?"

Alistair would have laughed at the pout on her face, were the situation less dire. He moved to her side and she gave him an apologetic smile. "I should have listened to you, I am sorry," she said with wide frightened eyes.

"Its going to be alright," he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I think it is safe for you to move your foot, my dear. I do not see where you will immediately be skewered or roasted alive by a fire ball," Zevran said finally.

"Are you sure?" she asked the ex-assassin.

"Eh, mostly sure," he replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "If there is a release of poisonous gas, well then, you can rest easy knowing that you will take the rest of us with you, no?"

"That is most comforting," Nathaniel broke in with a sarcastic hiss.

"Ah, my surly friend! Where is your sense of adventure?" Zevran teased.

"Alright!" Sidona growled, cutting them off. "I am lifting my foot now. Be ready for anything," with that she removed her foot and they all flinched simultaneously.

For several seconds nothing happened. "Well," said Zevran. "That was terribly disappointing."

No sooner had those words left his lips than the sound of stone dragging on stone met their ears. "You just had to say that, didn't you?" Alistair groaned.

"Oh look, undead," Zevran pointed out with an amused chuckle.

"Shut up," Alistair suggested and raised his shield.

They were set upon by skeletons wearing the trappings of the Avaar barbarians. Alistair smashed his shield into an advancing skeleton and then brought his plated boot heel down, caving in the skull. The bones twitched and finally stilled as the last of the enchantment ebbed out of the corpse.

He turned to find Zevran and Sidona fighting back to back. On the landing above, Nathaniel fired arrows downward into the fray. Alistair's eyes widened as skeleton's emerged from the sarcophagi on the upper level. "Nathaniel! Behind you!" he shouted and dashed towards the stairs, narrowly avoiding the swing of a barbarian ax on the way.

Nathaniel had turned to see the advancing monsters just in time to launch himself over the railing to get to safety. Alistair managed to raise his shield just in time to stop and arrow from skewering the young Howe.

"Thanks!" Nathaniel shouted over the din of battle.

Alistair offered him a grin instead of a verbal acknowledgment and then turned his full attention back to the skeletons now descending the staircase. He backed away from the stairs, pulling Nathaniel with him, careful to shield the young man until the advancing skeleton archers switched from short-bows to

swords and daggers. By this time the two were joined by Sidona and Zevran, the remaining undead fell quickly to their blades.

They stood there a moment, to catch their breaths. Not surprisingly it was Zevran that broke the silence. "Well, it could have been worse!" he slid he weapons back into their harness and looked up, seeing identical incredulous expressions on the faces of his companions. "They could have been flaming undead, yes?" he grinned.

Alistair groaned. "That was not my idea!"

"Oh, I know. But where I was forced to agree with Lyna because I was hoping to insinuate myself into her bed. You simply agreed because you are secretly insane. Zevran knows a man who flirts with danger when he sees one," he chuckled and dodged out of the way when Alistair took a swipe at him.

"What is it with you people?" he whined. "If it's not you harassing me, it's Anders!"

"Oh?" Sidona asked as they started ascending the stairwell. "What did our dear Mage do to upset you my love?"

Alistair flushed and grumbled out some nonsensical thing. Neither noticing that Zevran had lagged behind to retrieve something from a large white sack that seemed out of place in the middle of the crypt.

It had been an impulsive thing, taking the pieces of the bow with the Howe crest from the crypt. Zevran had no idea what came over him. It was not until after he had seen how upset Nathaniel was when they finally found Nathaniel's adoptive mother, that he realized he had taken it because it might mean something to the young Howe.

Having never known his own mother, Zevran knew how it felt to have someone willing to step into that role, to have cared enough to keep him clothed and fed. Nearly all the whores in the whorehouse he had been born in had shared in that duty. When he had been taken and sold to the Crows at the tender age of seven, he'd mourned the loss of several Mother's, not just one. Though they probably had been relieved to not have had to be burdened with him any longer. He would always remember them for having tried while he was there.

Zevran watched the Commander and Alistair talk with Sergeant Maverlies only to find his attention wandering to the dark young man, suffering in silence as he stood bravely against a wall, his eyes transfixed to the blighted remains of the only Mother he had ever known.

Alistair and Sidona could not be blamed for leaving the young man to mourn in solitude, they had expressed their regrets to him, but inevitably they needed to attend to the safety of others. The duty of mending the young Howe's breaking heart would have to wait until later. For Zevran, however, the matter of the silently suffering Howe was much more difficult to ignore. He left the shadows where he had been observing Nathaniel and quietly made his way over to the young man. Nathaniel had not heard his approach, so absorbed was he in looking at the body of the woman who had raised him, that he nearly jumped out of his skin when Zevran set a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"What do you want, elf?" he spat. His venom more out of anger and sorrow than any real dislike of Zevran.

"To take you back into the sunlight, my friend," Zevran said softly.

The tension released from the young man's shoulders and he visibly deflated under the elven assassin's words. "I cannot. I can not leave her here," he protested, his voice hitching mid-sentence.

"Someone will come back down for her later, my friend. We shall have a pyre and her spirit will go to the Maker. I swear it," Zevran squeezed Nathaniel's shoulder and the young man looked up at him, searching the honey colored eyes for something. When Nathaniel had apparently found it he gave Zevran a small smile and Zevran felt a curious tug at how vulnerable Nathaniel seemed. Were he a mark, this is where Zevran would strike. It left Zevran feeling suddenly out of his depth and unsure of himself. The feeling only grew when at that moment he realized that he liked the man, perhaps more than he was ready for.

"Zevran?" Nathaniel asked worriedly, his eyebrows knitted together.

Zevran shook his head and then flashed the dark haired man a winning smile. "Come, let us go up into the sun and find us a bottle of something to drown our sorrows, yes?"

Nathaniel nodded and gave the elf a halfhearted smile. "I think I'd like that, actually."

Zevran pulled the young man with him, away from the body of Adria. He pulled the youth upwards, towards the sun, towards hope and the possibility of moving forward. Nathaniel followed, grateful that he wouldn't have to mourn alone.

A/N: I just can't stay away from the Zevran/Nathaniel idea. It just seems so perfect a match to me.

I know that I talked about deviating from the story and I still plan on doing so, but the cellars and the entrance to the deep roads beneath the Vigil will play a vital part in that.

"Witches and Mirrors" is underway, I'm now working on chapter 3. I know I said I would wait until near the end of this story, but as I have no idea when that will be, I think I will get five chapters finished of it and then start posting.

Thank you to those of you who have reviewed. Your encouragement keeps me going. And thank you to Melismo, super-beta.