"Sounds fun," Nathaniel stated nonchalantly after Caoilainn explained his mission to the Arbor Wilds. She had left the meeting and sped frantically to the Warden training yard. Nathaniel was directing the archers in improving the accuracy of their shots until Caoilainn interrupted him and directed him to the Warden Commander's Tent, occupied only by a table and chairs.
"Who am I taking with me and when do we leave?"
Caoilainn was displeased with his agreeableness of the order. The wish to leave with him and escape the hole she had dug for herself was competing with the innate urge to save face against all odds.
Then it all clicked.
She realized she was in a battle with Alistair. A competition of cunning and wit, a challenge of commitment and fortitude, and she was losing dreadfully. And Alistair knew it. Caoilainn Cousland Theirin, the relentless and tenacious Warden Commander and Queen of Ferelden was losing to Alistair. The man she knew to be a clingy, immature push-over was besting her in a battle that depended on strategy. The idea made her head spin.
Since she met him, Alistair had been naïve, agreeable, and remarkably codependent. His ability to decide for himself was hampered, and Caoilainn effortlessly assumed the role of wearing the breeches in the relationship. As the leader of their group during their Blight expedition, it made sense that she was the decision maker. She did not know how it came to be that way, but she adapted gracefully. When it ended, Alistair didn't seem to change. He relied on advisors to help him with his obligations as King while she rebuilt the Grey Wardens and yet he still wrote her letters asking for advice. And when she returned to rule by his side, the old patterns continued. Yet, as King, he got all the credit for ruling. She existed simply as Alistair's Queen, the beautiful Hero of Ferelden. For a year, she tried to settle into her role as co-leader but it was impossible. The grief of losing her family returned, and she withdrew from Alistair. There was no way to stay busy enough to avoid that sadness. She imagined having a child would occupy her time and give her a sense of purpose, yet a child was not a viable option for them.
Images of the young, boyish Alistair flashed before her and contrasted against the stern, tactful Alistair she met yesterday. Anxious thoughts clouded her mind.
Nathaniel's voice seemed to echo in her ears as nausea, light-headedness, and the pounding of her heart distracted Caoilainn. The world around her swayed, and suddenly it all went black.
"Breathe, Caoilainn!" She heard Nathaniel's voice in the distance. "Yes. Come on, sit. Just breathe." His words became more coherent as she realized she was in his arms. She had fainted. He held her in a cautious embrace. Ugh, she thought in annoyance. How embarrassing.
"Nate…" Caoilainn took a deep inhale, pushed away from him, and sat in a chair. Frustration and disappointment resonated in her tone.
"What's come over you?" Nathaniel asked softly with concern. "Is it Alistair?"
Caoilainn sighed and relaxed in the seat, her head resting on the back. "Rules, Nate." She said curtly, reminding him of their agreements. Despite her exhaustion, she sat like a queen. A thoroughly vexed and impatient one, but a queen nonetheless. In all the years she spent running away from Alistair, her aptitude to lead never wavered. It annoyed the shit out of him, in all the right ways. Nathaniel consistently disregarded the ruling aptitude she emitted.
"Fuck your rules, Caoilainn." He retorted as he squatted down to see her at eye level, frustration and caring apparent in his action and words. "You've never done that before. Tell me what's going on."
Caoilainn sighed again and looked him in the eyes. "I don't know, Nate. It's nothing. Just let it go."
"You are so…" Nathaniel growled in anger, "stubborn." His last remark was made with a sigh as he admitted defeat. He would not win this one. Reserved did not begin to explain Caoilainn. He knew her better than anyone, save for Alistair, and yet he still couldn't figure her out sometimes. A general state of stubborn proved to be her most constant feature.
"It's a gift and a curse," she mused weakly. "And it makes me a good commander. Your Commander, in fact." The authority was returning to her tone.
Annoyed but curious, he entertained it. "My time is yours, Commander."
The respectful reply soothed her ego and swelled her pride. She sat up straighter. "Your mission to the Wilds will depart tonight. It will require you to be on your best behavior as you will represent me as your Commander and the Grey Wardens as a contributing force to the Inquisition."
"Yes, ma'am." Nathaniel smiled. He knew she liked it when he was obedient and considering the level of stress she seemed to be under, he figured he could give her that much. Though he could not visibly see her reaction, he could feel the energy shift between them.
She crossed her leather clad legs and continued giving him orders. The leather of her boots, which laced up her calves, shimmered in the minor lighting in the tent and gave evidence of regular polishing. "You will lead a small stealth team of ten. I want Senior Wardens on this. Light armor. Archers. Light weapons. A few mages." She wrote a list of names and handed it to him.
Nathaniel took the list and reviewed. His brow furrowed, and an eyebrow raised in question. "Commander, there are only 9 people on this list."
Caoilainn's face remained non-expressive. "Your last addition will be a Junior Warden. She has shown promise and I believe that if she can hone her abilities and channel her anger, she will be an incredible Warden."
Her rough exterior and rigid attitude did not prevent Caoilainn from searching for the promise of Junior Wardens. Caoilainn was known for picking out unique individuals and challenging them by assigning them to missions with more experienced soldiers. Her attention showed caring and investment in her Wardens.
Nathaniel waited for Caoilainn to finish her statement with a tentative and questioning stare.
"Hale will join you," Caoilainn added judiciously. "She's rebellious and unruly and I know she will test her boundaries. But I see potential; she needs a challenge and practice."
Nathaniel's eyebrows raised in surprise and he grinned playfully. "I can make sure she gets plenty of practice."
"Best behavior, Nate. This is included," Caoilainn admonished.
Dating within the Grey Wardens was discouraged, but ultimately inevitable. An effort to make it completely illicit would be met with backlash and accusations of hypocrisy since her and Alistair had been the last two Grey Wardens before she revived them. Her own internal guilt for the fling with Nathaniel also contributed to her decision to discourage but permit the relationships within the ranks. Since Caoilainn had taken the position as Commander, the Grey Wardens were far more diverse among races and genders. At some points, there were even more female Wardens than males. It all depended on who the recruiters brought back for her and who survived the Joining. Rules surrounding interactions between members had to be formed, addressed, and changed regularly. Because of power dynamics and influence, a lieutenant sleeping with a Junior Warden would not be allowed. Conveniently, the Warden Commander sleeping with a lieutenant was permissible in her eyes.
"Commander, you know I follow your orders with same the precision that I shoot."
Caoilainn laughed. "Well, don't fuck up."
"I'll do my best." He responded with a grin as he sat on his haunches in front of her. Something seemed more genuine about his playfulness. It was lacking its usual bite. She wasn't sure if she liked it. "Will I see you again before I leave?"
The question was casual, but it startled Caoilainn. The inquiry was so ingratiating and uncharacteristic for Nathaniel that it provoked an image to flash in her mind. She was unnerved, empowered and stimulated by the quick thought of Nathaniel prostrating himself before her. The desire to see Nathaniel in a humiliating position, groveling and kissing her feet with delicate subservience brought a brief smile to her face. She tamed the sinful urge to pursue the scenario the best way she knew how.
"No." Her reply was cold, firm and completely disinterested in his attention.
The energy between them changed again. Her wall was raised; Nathaniel could tell and it wasn't unexpected. At this point in their relationship, or whatever it was, he did not take her guardedness personally. That did not stop it from being abhorrently irksome. "In that case, I wish you pleasant battles." Exaggerated affection coated his reply as he stood up from his crouched position.
Powerful and unfazed, Caoilainn stared up at him. She knew her intractability irritated Nathaniel, especially now since he seemed to be making some half-assed attempt at a sweet goodbye. "And you, Lieutenant." Condescension seethed through her tone; she offered no other words.
Nathaniel took this as initiative to up his ante. "Don't miss me too much, Commander. I know I'm your most useful Warden," he said through an obnoxious smirk.
In a blatant and deliberate measure of his worth to her, Caoilainn's eyes scanned Nathaniel up and down. "You are useful, that's true," she said with mild disregard. As if it was a passing thought that required no more concern than what she would eat for breakfast.
Ooh, woman. Try me, Nathaniel thought. With effort, he reined his irritation and bowed his head.
"Should this be the last time I see you, it has been an honor to serve you, your Majesty Commander." The title would piss her off; he relied on it.
Eyes narrowed, Caoilainn lips pursed tightly. Without words, she nodded stiffly for him to leave.
Grinning at his successful annoyance of her, Nathaniel turned to walk away. He took one step and counted down silently, knowingly: three… two... one.
"I look forward to receiving your report when we return to Vigil's Keep," she called to him as he departed.
I bet you do, he thought and turned to wink at Caoilainn before leaving the Commander's Tent.
In solitude, Caoilainn sat to breathe. Soaking in the quiet of the inside of the tent, she allowed the static noise of voices and training occurring actively outside to fade in the distance. She was left alone with her thoughts and the sobering reality of the situation with Alistair came back to the forefront of her mind now that the distraction of Nathaniel was not present. Her hand lifted to meet her eyes; her thumb and middle finger pressed against her temples.
She remained in this posture silently. Her emotions, the overwhelming grief, despair, and powerlessness she had been running from washed over her. Caoilainn's body quaked. She shook violently as tears quietly poured from her eyes. A sudden gasp for air was followed by a wail. She felt the sorrow, frustration, and confusion throughout her body, rattling her to the core.
And then it was over. She took a few deep breaths and wiped her eyes. The silence of the tent rang in her ears.
A voice called from the outside entrance. "Warden Commander?"
Caoilainn closed her eyes to lessen her frustration, hoping that whoever was outside of the Commander's Tent had not heard her a moment ago. "Yes? Enter."
An Inquisition messenger timidly entered her tent and rushed to explain. "Um. A message from Morrigan, ma'am. She said that she would like to speak with you before the departure for battle."
"Thank you. I'll find her right away," Caoilainn answered.
The messenger quickly departed and rushed back to the fortress of Skyhold. Joy, curiosity, and trepidation stirred within Caoilainn from this news. Curiosity won out over them all. She took a few more deep breaths until she felt the redness subside from her face and went to find Morrigan in the Skyhold Garden.
"Caoilainn," Morrigan greeted her as she walked toward the pagoda where Morrigan was standing. Kieran was nowhere in sight.
"Morrigan…," Caoilainn reciprocated the greeting expectantly; her voice tinged with inquiry.
"I have not found a cure for you." Morrigan got to the point. The news was not pleasant, but Caoilainn appreciated the directness of the conversation. "On the mission tomorrow, I will be with the Inquisitor on her campaign. The opportunity for me to research your request may present itself due to the destination of this quest and the unique circumstances it offers."
"Oh? Care to go into any more detail or do you prefer to remain vague and mysterious?"
"I wish I could, but I cannot," Morrigan's reply was cautious but there was excitement in her communication. Knowing Morrigan well, Caoilainn suspected there was something in this quest for her personally as well as the Inquisition.
Caoilainn questioned if this news was the only reason Morrigan summoned her and if so, how to stay her annoyance with that fact. She did not reply as she waited.
"I found in my reading so far that it might be possible for two Wardens to reproduce without magic," Morrigan explained.
"So technical, Morrigan. Tell me more."
"''Tis true both of you have low… fertility." She struggled to find the words. "But it means neither of you are necessarily completely barren."
Caoilainn was bothered by the message she was getting from Morrigan's line of communication. "What are you saying?"
Morrigan stood silently for a moment. Her brow wrinkled apologetically. "Well, there is a chance you could have a child with Alistair by natural means with persistence."
"Hah!" Caoilainn laughed sarcastically at the ridiculousness of Morrigan's suggestion. "Believe me Morrigan, we tried. A lot." Memories of the time her and Alistair spent trying to conceive appeared in her mind. "When I returned to the castle, it was daily. Multiple times per day, sometimes. We tried tonics, herbs, and positions we heard were more effective; I'll spare you the details. We spoke to midwives and healers. He called for the most renowned fertility mages in Thedas. It became work. And we couldn't stand each other by the end of it. Or rather, I couldn't stand him."
What frustrated her the most was that Alistair never seemed troubled by their inability to conceive. He knew that she wanted a child, and so he did everything he could to make it happen. Ultimately, all of Alistair's love and support was futile and that filled her with resentment.
Morrigan witnessed her vulnerability with awe. She could see Caoilainn's frustration. Her sadness. She recognized it because she knew the joy having a child brought her. A mixture of guilt and gratitude conflicted within her. "Thank you, Caoilainn and I'm sorry."
"What?" Caoilainn asked.
"Kieran has changed my life. He has changed me." Morrigan looked in the distance as if she could see Kieran though he did not seem to be in the garden. "I owe you and Alistair for that."
Cheeks flushed, Caoilainn looked away and stared hard at the ground. In disbelief, Morrigan thought she saw tears swelling in Caoilainn's eyes. It was a glimpse of the emotional young girl she met over ten years prior; the girl once desperately in love with Alistair.
Caoilainn's hand rose to rub her eyes with her fingers as she took a deep breath. "I'm glad." The statement was true, even though Caoilainn's heart was pierced with the sharpest pang of jealousy she had ever experienced. "We owe you and Kieran gratitude for our lives."
"Mm." She murmured in passive agreement. The energy between them was as intimate as either woman could allow and it spoke volumes of their friendship. "I did not realize the extent of your efforts for this child, Caoilainn. Had I known, I would have saved news for when I had more to offer. I will tell you what I find when we return to Skyhold, my friend."
The conversation with Morrigan concluded and Caoilainn wandered through Skyhold with a distant goal of returning to her room near the tavern. She was overwhelmed remembering the turmoil that was the attempt to have a child, the failure of her plan to get away from Alistair, her meltdown earlier all drained her deeply.
Caoilainn was notorious for being a strong, bullheaded fighter and here she felt powerless, helpless in the face of the feelings that were storming within.
The door clicked as she opened it and her heart sank when she saw him standing in the room, armored, moving his sheathed sword to join his other belongings for the night. Alistair looked to her, his expression compassionate as if he could see the pain written all over her. "Caoilainn…" he said gently.
Despite her attempt to re-center her energy and reclaim her inner-strength, hearing that tone from Alistair was infuriating. The emotions she had been attempting to bottle for the day could no longer be contained.
"Why are you doing this!?" She yelled.
Alistair's softness faded and was replaced by curiosity. She was unable to discern if he was sarcastic or genuine. "Why am I doing what, my dear?"
"Ugh!" She growled in exasperation. "What do you want from me, Alistair!? I am here trying to find a cure for the Calling so I can have your child. Can't you let me do that in peace!?" Despite all her questions, she continued to rant without waiting for answers. "How on earth do you think I can do that when you are constantly getting in my way? What the fuck has come-"
"Stop," he interrupting, his voice dominant and booming.
Stunned, Caoilainn stopped midsentence and replied with a blank stare.
"Sit down," he ordered, finding no need to address her questions or their inconsistencies.
Without her control, Caoilainn's feet carried her to the bed, and she sat down. She was aware that she needed to sit, to fall apart, and exhale the weight she had been carrying all day. Alistair's order, though unexpected and uncomfortable, gave her permission to do so. Once she settled, her shoulder's slumped pathetically. She whined. "You are driving me-"
"No," his voice rang directly. "You will not speak to me like that." Alistair stood facing her from across the room.
"But…" her whining continued as if enough of it could make Alistair understand that her plight was his fault.
"I will be spoken to with respect." His order was definite. There was no debate or question.
At a loss for words, Caoilainn gave a feeble nod and her brow furrowed pitifully in confusion. She tried to ignore the tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "Alistair…," she murmured disconsolately. "I need to be alone."
He gave a knowing nod and a wise smile as if he understood her logic. "My love," his voice was soothing no matter how much she tried to resist it or how it infuriated her. "I have left you alone for the last five years. More if you count how much space I gave when you came back to the castle. And we are no better for it. I am not going anywhere."
Caoilainn's lips formed an indignant frown. She knew he was right, but she could not admit it. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and a few lone tears streamed down. Alistair observed her; he saw the suffering that consumed her and though he fiercely wanted to help, she wasn't ready to accept it from him.
"I don't know what to do with you," she admitted in a muffled whimper.
"Would you be surprised if I told you that you don't have to do anything?" His words were said through a loving smirk. "You are not my Commander, my love. Let me help you."
"You don't know how," she looked up to him with a fierce, tear soaked glare. "You never did. I don't even know what I need anymore."
They locked eyes for a few long seconds. He watched her adoringly, understanding the helplessness that she felt, and knowing she believed what she said to be true. Caoilainn stared back at him with pitiful obstinacy, making every attempt to resist his love for fear of disappointment.
"'We stay together, no matter what happens.' Do you remember telling me that?" Alistair questioned calmly, ignoring the inaccuracy of the accusations in her previous reply.
Her ferocity faded; she stared at him with heavy sadness and a longing nostalgia. "I do…" her lip quivered. "And you left me. You left me at Vigil's Keep completely alone. I was terrified."
After the Blight, though they both knew it was temporary, Alistair had left her to command and rebuild the Grey Wardens on her own because he was King. She was strong and capable, stubborn and devoted. They both knew she would succeed. But as the adrenaline of killing the Archdemon wore off, the loss of her family sank in. What she perceived as Alistair's abandonment of her at the Keep was all too familiar and so she dove into command with such fervor and resentment, just as she had in becoming a Grey Warden.
Her quiet whimpering broke into a shaking sob. Alistair was shocked; Caoilainn had never opened up about this before, nor had he observed her weep so movingly since they tried for the baby. A few long strides across the room brought him to stand before her at the bed. He gently stroked her hair in an effort to soothe her pain. Muscle memory prompted her body to respond; Caoilainn reached her arms around his armored waist and hugged him as she wept into his stomach.
"Caoilainn," he cooed, sweetly allaying this newly discovered layer of her grief. The magnitude of the bereavement of trust between them was met with his undisturbed clarity. "I didn't want to leave you there. Please believe me when I say that. I saw no other way. I love you, Caoilainn. Always." He patiently reminded her, valuing this moment with uncompromising stability. Fully aware that her openness was temporary and her wall would return, Alistair trusted that it was crumbling.
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