Chapter Eleven: Expecting It Doesn't Make It Easier
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age.
Note: So I downloaded the toolset and it is awesome. Who knew Grey Wardens have their own special quarters in the Diamond Quarter? No one who hasn't played a DC, insisted on talking to Rica before leaving, and been so reluctant to go she has to talk you into it…or someone that has a toolset! :) I was actually surprised to learn that as most people just make them stay in an inn when they get to Orzammar. Still, I suppose since it's only the one line in one origin you won't even get if you don't complain about having to go it's easy to miss.
Gorim simply continued to stare at her. Under normal circumstances she probably would have complained but this was Gorim and it had been months since she'd last seen him. He looked much as he always had although it seemed…wrong to see him in the bright Surface clothes he now wore instead of the armor she had usually seen him in. Then again, what use would a merchant have for armor aside from selling it? It was a little strange to see him for the first time in the sunlight but at least he was here.
Finally, he seemed to snap out of it. "I knew you were still alive," he breathed, though the incredulousness and outright awe in his tone led Aunn to believe that he had merely hoped it. It wasn't surprising, she supposed, given that no one ever made it out of the Deep Roads once they'd been exiled there. Well, thinking on it that might not be true but if they had escaped to the Surface like she had then it wasn't like anyone in Orzammar would have heard about it just like Orzammar never would have heard of her continued existence if it hadn't been for that sodding treaty and Alistair's… Alistair-ness that prevented him from just handling it by himself.
"I never stopped believing it," he said again, a little more conviction in his voice. He never wanted to stop believing, maybe, but as much as she might want to believe that, say, she could clear up her legal status while she was back in Orzammar that didn't mean that she really did. People like her and Gorim were tragically too practical for desperate hope to be of much comfort.
"I was in Denerim a few weeks ago but I didn't see you," Aunn told him. She would never admit it but she had actually been a little worried that after enough time had passed and Gorim had had time to experience the realities of his exile that he would resent her for her part in it and it was good to see that he did not appear to. She knew, rationally, that that was highly unlikely but that hadn't done much to ease her concerns. "Although I don't believe I passed through this part of town so I'm not sure if you were there at the time or not."
"Probably not," Gorim replied. "The date of my actual exile kept getting pushed back and I could not for the life of me understand why. It couldn't have been your brother's doing as he seemed to take it as a personal insult whenever he saw me. Finally, King Endrin called for me."
Aunn started. "You…saw my father?" That was unexpected. If he hadn't even bothered to show up before he let Bhelen and his Assembly puppets kill her – she may not have actually died but the odds of her survival had been so low that that was essentially what he had sanctioned with his silence – then why would he feel the need to meet with her second? Former second.
"I did," Gorim confirmed with a nod, looking a little uncomfortable and no wonder: he had likely picked up on her…displeasure with her father the last time they had spoken. "The day before I finally left, he sent for me. It was the first time I had seen him since the day Trian died. I almost didn't go but he was still my King and I suppose part of me was hoping that he would have answers."
"And did he?" Aunn asked carefully, knowing that she wasn't fooling him in the slightest but refusing to admit how much this was getting to her nonetheless. It was alright, though: Gorim had long-since come to understand her stubborn and occasionally inconvenient pride.
Gorim considered the question. "Perhaps, but not for me," he said finally. "You must understand, my lady, that exiling you wasn't easy on him."
Aunn pursed her lips. "It wasn't easy for me either and since there was never any question of him ceasing to exist and outright dying then forgive me if I'm not really interested in hearing about his hardships."
"I figured that might be the case," Gorim admitted. "But Aunn…you need to hear this. You know you do."
It was the use of her first name that got to her, much like he'd intended. She wondered vaguely if the paucity of times he had used her name, even when they were alone, was partly so it would still have that affect on her. Was he right? She had asked after her father while she was sitting in that prison cell back in Orzammar even though he was honestly the last person she'd wanted to hear about after the way he'd so coldly left her to her fate. To her death. Just because it hadn't happened that way didn't mean that the intention wasn't still there. Still…she had to admit that she probably would have driven herself half-mad wondering if she hadn't.
"Alright," she acquiesced quietly. "Tell me."
"He looked bad," Gorim told her, not caring to question her sudden interest. "We all knew that he had been getting old and that he might not have much time left but a mere three weeks after you had been banished he looked as if he had lived three lifetimes. It was as if he were long dead and rotten and now merely an empty husk collapsing in on itself. He could not even rise from his bed and the room stank of decay."
"I see," Aunn said hollowly. How exactly was she supposed to respond to that? To feel about it, even? Yes, it was hardly a secret that her father was old and aging more every day. That didn't necessarily have to mean that he was going to die shortly – Harrowmont himself was sixty compared to her father's fifty and was in excellent shape – but it did make it a strong possibility. That was one of the reasons she believed things had deteriorated so thoroughly between her and Trian (well, that and Bhelen's intervention) and why her little brother had felt the need to put his plan into practice when he was still seen as barely more than a child.
"It was difficult to see him like that," Gorim continued, sounding pained. He had always been fond of her father and no amount of failing to save them would just make that go away so completely. It was difficult for her to hear this so she couldn't even begin to imagine how he had actually managed to watch it. "Until that moment, I had hated him for believing Bhelen, for exiling you but if you had seen him…if you had heard his voice…" he trailed off, looking distant.
"What did he say?" Aunn prompted, needing to get this part of the conversation over with so she'd still have the strength to address the next part which she had a horrible feeling wouldn't cheer her up any.
"He barely spoke at all. He said 'Find my daughter. No other deserves this.' He gave me the Shield of Aeducan and a letter. I haven't read it, of course, but I've carried them with me ever since and I hope you'll find what you're looking for in it," Gorim said hesitantly. He turned around and walked to the back of his stand.
Aunn's eyes narrowed as she took in the slight limp he walked with. He was injured? Was that why he was a merchant now? Was it serious? Was it permanent? Those questions would have to wait, however, as allowing herself to stray from the matter at hand would inevitably tempt her not to return. Gorim walked back to her and proffered the shield and note, which she reluctantly accepted. "Damn him."
"My lady?" Gorim inquired cautiously.
"He knew I wouldn't be able to turn this down. The Shield of Aeducan! After everything…even if I wanted nothing more to do with him, with House Aeducan, with Orzammar itself he knew I could not refuse this," Aunn said angrily.
"The Paragon Aeducan was always a hero of yours," Gorim reminded her. "And this is the only proof of your heritage you have. He wasn't trying to manipulate you."
"Maybe, maybe not," Aunn shrugged, her eyes burning. "But is it really any better that he's so good at it he can do so without even trying? It really raises a lot of questions if he can. Oh, who am I kidding? It raises a lot of questions regardless."
"Aren't you going to read the letter?" Gorim pressed. "It will probably offer some sort of explanation and maybe even an apology. It's his way of saying goodbye, I suppose, since he never did in person."
"He had two days," Aunn said tightly. "I certainly wasn't going anywhere. It wouldn't have even hurt his precious reputation if he wanted to 'look into the eyes of the woman who murdered my son'."
"You didn't kill Trian," Gorim said firmly.
"I may as well have for all the good that does me," Aunn countered. "And I wish I had. Then I could at least think that I deserved this…" Seeing his pointed look, she sighed. "I'll read it later. I promise. Now was there anything else I needed to know about my father?"
"What King Endrin did was unforgiveable," Gorim began slowly. "But just the same…when I saw his eyes…I pitied him. He was a King and I was being exiled for Bhelen's treachery but I couldn't help but pity the man. If it were possible for a man to die of regret, I think your father did."
Aunn started at that. "Die? It can't be that bad, surely. He was fine a mere three months ago!"
Gorim shrugged. "Guilt and grief will do that to a person. I wouldn't be surprised if he dies within the year and that's not even counting anything Bhelen or his allies might do to try to hurry up his return to the Stone."
Her father was dying. She would probably never see him again. The question was: did she even want to? She honestly had no idea. She couldn't think of anything positive that would come out of that particular reunion but if she didn't she'd always wonder. If she did she may regret it. It could never be a happy reunion anyway no matter what her father's bequeathal might indicate about his own wishes on the subject.
Now was hardly the time to worry about that. She wasn't about to head back to Orzammar anytime soon and she'd leave the possibility of seeing him again up to fate. If he were still alive then she would have to go to him as the treaty compelled only the King to send aid and if he weren't then there was nothing she could about it. This wouldn't hurt nearly as much if he hadn't been one of the only time people she genuinely – foolishly – trusted. He had loved her and she was hardly a threat to his position so what reason did he have to hurt her? How could he believe she'd killed Trian? It was as if he didn't even know her. Yes, under different circumstances she might have but as it was…
"If you don't mind me asking, my lady, how did you manage to escape?" Gorim asked gently, acceding to her unspoken wish to change the subject. "Did you find the Grey Wardens?"
Unbidden, a small smile made its way to her face. "I did," she confirmed proudly. "Duncan and the others agreed to let me join their Order and he even bought me some tolerable armor when we passed through this city."
"The armor you were wearing wasn't good enough?" Gorim asked knowingly.
Aunn coughed. Normally, she'd just go with that but she hated lying to Gorim and it really wasn't as if it even mattered all that much. "The armor I was wearing was non-existent, actually."
Gorim's eyes widened in clear disbelief. "You couldn't find any armor on your way to the Surface?"
"None that was not all bloody and sweat-soaked," Aunn replied, still not quite looking at him.
"My lady, you could have been killed!" Gorim said reprovingly although not he didn't sound particularly surprised.
"Wasn't that why I was down there in the first place?" she asked wryly. "But I didn't and I wasn't."
"I had hoped that you would find the Grey Wardens and become one of them," Gorim told her. "At least until I heard what happened at Ostagar. I don't know how you managed to survive when all the other Wardens died but I am grateful."
So common sense dictated that when she was sealed down in the Deep Roads that she would die and it also dictated that had she actually managed to survive by finding the Grey Wardens she would have perished with the rest of the Order at Ostagar. Gorim might have wanted to believe that she was alive – and would never have admitted to thinking otherwise for even a moment – but it was doubtful that he actually did. She was getting a very bad feeling about this.
"What about you?" Aunn asked as casually as she could. One simply couldn't demand these sorts of answers no matter how desperate they might be for them. Well, maybe other people could but not her. "How did you end up here?"
"On my way here I was ambushed by a large group of bandits," Gorim informed her, looking a little sheepish. "I didn't have much of value on me but they wanted the shield. I knew just how irreplaceable that was and I managed to keep it from them but in the scuffle I was pretty heavily wounded. My leg healed crooked and I will never fight again."
Aunn's eyes widened in horror. She had suspected an injury but still…never fighting again? She couldn't even imagine. If she could never fight again she'd probably go out and get into a fight anyway so she could at least have a warrior's death. And giving up fighting for the tedium of a merchant's life? She'd sooner bite through her own tongue then tell the man before her that, though, especially when he was injured trying to protect her family heirloom. And not just trying, for that matter, but succeeding.
"If I couldn't fight and knew nothing about the Surface then I couldn't make use of any of the skills I had learned in Orzammar," Gorim continued. "And it would take me years to learn how to become a competent smith and that wouldn't help me survive until then. That was when I met Belgret."
"Who is Belgret?" Aunn asked, an icy terror washing over her. This was really it, wasn't it? A part of her wanted to delay the inevitable, to go back to talking about her father, to run away, to do basically anything but hear Gorim's answer to that seemingly innocuous question. Still, she had to remember that running away never helped matters and that the shield at her side proclaimed her an Aeducan and Aeducans didn't run away. His answer would be the same whether she heard it today or a year from or even never. Best to just get it over with then.
"My-my wife," Gorim said awkwardly, confirming his worst fears. "She is a good woman. Her father is the best smith in Denerim and he gave me a job selling the armor and weapons that he crafts. We're expecting our firstborn before the Spring."
No. This was just…no.
She couldn't breathe, not really. She had always known that this was coming, even before they had started anything. No matter what happened between them they could not get married because doing so was guaranteed to be a death sentence for him from her scandalized relatives who would not sit back and watch as a warrior married their Princess. Of course, now she was but an exiled princess and could do as she liked so of course Gorim would no longer be available. That was just life for you.
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what about their relationship but she bit it down. What was the point? He was married. He was far too honorable of a man to even think of suggesting that she become his mistress – and she wouldn't have been able to love him if he hadn't been – and she would have been insulted and stormed out anyway. Princesses, even the exiled ones, did not agree to be a dirty little secret or even an open one. Gorim was married and so their relationship was over. It was as simple as that although not nearly as easy to accept. She had always known that they would never last – even though on the Surface there should have been nothings stopping them from trying – but she had at least expected a little forewarning before one of them (and probably him because she honestly had never felt the need to get married to someone she wasn't already at least fond of) had gotten married and ruined everything.
She wanted to ask why but she knew the answer to that, too, or at least she hoped she did. Gorim had no more way of surviving up here alone then she had but she at least had quickly found a place with the Grey Wardens. If marrying a 'good' Surface woman was what it took for Gorim to find his own way of making a living then so be it. If he loved this Belgret then Aunn honestly didn't want to hear it. Not yet. It wasn't like she wanted him to be trapped in a loveless marriage or anything and she did want him to be happy but it had only been three months. If this had been for practicality then it was something she could understand, something she could handle. If it wasn't…well if it wasn't then she was as easily replaceable to Gorim as she was to everyone else in her life and that was a prospect she wasn't quite willing to face.
And of course there would be a child involved. This Belgret likely had none of the hang-ups about children that she did and was eager to become a mother and start a family. She'd given him a son and wouldn't even resent the pregnancy ruining her life. Then again, as the daughter of a smith and the wife of a merchant she probably wasn't a fighter and wouldn't see it as ruining her life. Did she love him? She hoped paradoxically that the woman both did and that she didn't and that wasn't even remotely nice of her, now was it? She could be ruthless enough to get rid of an unwanted complication if she had to but a child? She did have her limits.
"My lady?" Gorim asked, looking concerned and anxious as the minutes passed with no response from her.
"This is…a lot to take it," Aunn said finally. She could see that he was hoping for a more positive reaction from her, about his impending fatherhood if nothing else, but she just couldn't find it in herself to provide one. As it happened, it was taking everything she had to keep herself from reacting to this news. One thing was clear, however, and that was that she had to get out of here. "With my father and your injury…I'll be travelling quite a bit for the foreseeable future but I am going to need to be back in Denerim in a few weeks and we can talk more then." She glanced over to Trian, who had taken to growling at Gorim the minute he said the word 'wife'. Perhaps he really was intelligent, after all. "Trian, go bring Alistair over here, okay?"
"You named the dog Trian?" Gorim asked, blinking in surprise.
"Why not? Alistair asked shortly. "I've heard it's considered a sign of respect to name an animal after someone."
"I think we both know that that's not how Trian would take it if he were here to see it," Gorim replied.
"If Trian were still among the living then we wouldn't even be here, now would we?" Aunn pointed out, willing Alistair to hurry up.
They stood in silence for a few moments before Aunn heard Alistair's voice behind her. "Is everything alright, Aunn? Trian seemed quite insistent that I come over here even though I know you told me to stay back…"
Gorim glanced over at the new arrival and then did a double take. "You look just like…" he shook his head and trailed off. "Never mind."
"Her brother?"Alistair supplied.
"Yes, actually," Gorim confirmed, looking surprised. "But how would you know that? Have you ever met him?"
"Not yet," Alistair replied. "But Aunn has mentioned it a few times. It was practically the first thing she said to me…"
"I need to go check out something over that way, alright?" Aunn asked rhetorically. "You can stay here and ask Gorim about the rumors and I'll meet you back at Wade's."
She didn't bother waiting for an answer before taking off as fast as her pride would allow her to go. She had no illusions that Gorim didn't know what she was doing but that really wasn't important right then. What was important was escaping that situation before he managed to convince her that no good would come of running from the truth and she really doubted she could handle it at this point. She had no idea where she was supposed to be going but she didn't want anyone to see her just loitering about when she was supposed to have other things to do – even though that was a ridiculously transparent excuse – and so she just picked a random house on the left once she'd been walking for a few minutes and went inside.
A dark haired human, pale and nervous, greeted her. "What are you doing here? Are you looking for Brother Genitivi?"
Aunn perked up at that. "Brother Genitivi lives here? I haven't seen him since the last time he passed through Orzammar and that a couple of years ago. Is he home?"
The man shook his head. "I…I don't know where he is. It's all too dreadful!"
Normally, Aunn would take that as her cue to leave as this man had no idea who she was, she had no witnesses to take offense to that course of action, and Brother Genitivi's fate really wasn't her problem. Right now, however, she was looking for a distraction and it looked like she'd found one. "What happened? And who are you?"
"Ah, of course. Where are my manners?" the man asked rhetorically, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. "My name is Weylon and I am Brother Genitivi's assistant. I was helping him with his research into the Urn of Sacred Ashes and then a few weeks ago he simply vanished! I only had a vague idea of where he was going but he claimed that he was on the verge of a breakthrough, that he might be able to locate the Urn itself!"
"Where is the Urn of Sacred Ashes?" Aunn inquired.
Weylon stopped and stared at her almost in disbelief. "What-what is the Urn of Sacred Ashes? I thought everybody knew what it was."
That statement annoyed Aunn somewhat. "I'm pretty sure that I've heard of it but I don't know what it is. Except, I guess, an urn filled with ashes that people believe to be sacred."
"They are sacred," Weylon claimed, his eyes shining with conviction. "After the great Andraste herself was burned alive her ashes were gathered up by her most loyal followers and brought to a hidden location. Many believe that the ashes have curative powers."
"Why?" Aunn asked.
"Why what?" Weylon asked, confused. "Why can they cure people? Who knows? The Maker blessed them and that is all we need to know."
Aunn tactfully decided not to mention her belief that the Maker was simply a fairytale that the people of Thedas told themselves to try to explain their existence. Honestly, 'we were bad so the Maker got mad and left but not before turning people into darkspawn'? Why were they trying to lure such a malevolent creature back again? "No, I meant that if the ashes were spirited away and hidden then why do people think that they possess curative powers? Did the followers first spill some and find their ailments healing or something?"
"No, no! Nothing like that! Who could ever be so careless? Although…" he trailed off, looking thoughtful. "I'm not actually sure where that rumor came from. Everyone believes that the ashes were at one time capable of healing but many doubt that they still exist. Brother Genitivi hoped to actually be able to locate the Urn but now I fear that something dreadful has happened to him!"
"What do you fear has happened to him?" Aunn asked obligingly. Seriously, could he cut the dramatics already? It was beginning to get on her nerves.
"I…I shouldn't say," Weylon hesitated. "I mean, all those knights from Redcliffe went to look for him as well but I haven't heard anything from them or Brother Genitivi. I fear the worst."
"Where are you sending these people?" Aunn demanded.
"But…fine," Weylon concedes, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "If you absolutely must know…he told me he was heading out towards Lake Calenhad. You might want to check there and see if you can find any trace of him."
Aunn raised an eyebrow. "Lake Calenhad, did you say? That's strange. I was just out there recently and I didn't see any sign of him."
"You didn't?" Weylon asked nervously. "How...how very peculiar. Then again, it has been a few weeks since he left so it makes sense that he wouldn't be there anymore. Not to mention that since I haven't heard from him there is every chance that something horrible has befallen him. It really is best that you don't go check it out. It is becoming more and more clear to me that some things we just aren't meant to discover and that the Urn of Sacred Ashes are one of them."
"Why would he go to Lake Calenhad?" Aunn wondered. "There isn't much there besides the Circle Tower and he wasn't there when I passed through and if he needed to talk to the mages or Templars there then he would have had to wait due to their…slight problem."
"I don't know why he was there," Weylon insisted. "All his research revealed was that he was heading to Lake Calenhad."
Aunn narrowed her eyes. "His research revealed that information to you? Didn't you just say that he told you?"
"Well, yes, he did," Weylon quickly backpedaled. "But then I looked through his research and it just confirmed that he was, indeed, heading there?"
"Oh, so you expected him to lie to you but for him to be so careless as to leave conflicting evidence behind?" Aunn asked skeptically. "That hardly sounds like someone as brilliant as Brother Genitivi would do and why would he lie to his trusted assistant?"
"I-I didn't expect him to lie, I just-" Weylon started to stammer.
"Save it," Aunn cut him off. "You're just embarrassing yourself."
Weylon eyes hardened. "Fine. Have it your way. I gave you a chance to leave and forget about the Ashes and about finding Genitivi but you just wouldn't listen, would you? Now I'm going to have to kill you." He closed his eyes. "Andraste forgive me. I do this in Your-" He cut off suddenly and stared at the sword lodged in his stomach. "Damn you."
"Never take your eye off of your opponent," Aunn lectured, plunging the sword a little deeper into his abdomen before pulling it back out and wiping the blood off of it. "It's an amateur mistake. Don't worry, though. I'm sure it won't happen again."
With that, she promptly walked past the dying Weylon and moved towards the back of the house to see if there was any real information to be found. If not, then she'd be left with two choices: go spring the trap somewhere at Lake Calenhad – that would require finding said trap, of course, but she was sure if she went there and started asking questions about Genitivi then it would find her soon enough – or just forget the whole thing. It wasn't like they needed the Ashes or anything although she would really not have anything befall the scholar.
She slowly opened the door, making sure to keep her eyes peeled for traps or hidden opponents. Satisfied that there were none, she stepped into the room and looked around. There was a decomposing corpse in the corner by the wardrobe. For a moment, she feared it was Genitivi himself but a closer examination revealed a much younger man. This was probably the real Weylon then, for of course there must be a real Weylon or else the imposter would have impersonated whoever this man had been instead. There was also a trunk in the room which, though locked, was soon opened revealing a bit of money, a journal by Genitivi which hopefully contained some clue as to his actual whereabouts, and a small trinket that reminded Aunn of the Chantry for some reason and that Leliana would probably like.
Carefully avoiding the way she had come for fear of being forced to continue the conversation she had only just managed to flee, Aunn headed back to Wade's shop.
Alistair and Leliana were already back and Alistair was trying to pretend that the way Herron was glaring at him wasn't making him extremely uncomfortable.
"Oh, you're back," he said, relieved to have something else to focus on. "We were just about to start looking for you."
"I told you that I had something else to do," Aunn replied vaguely. She pulled out the trinket and turned to Leliana. "Here, I got you something. I hope you like it."
Leliana accepted the object curiously and, upon closer inspection, her eyes lit up. "Oh, how dear of you! Thank you."
"You're welcome," Aunn replied easily. "It's really the least I could do for a friend. Alistair, could I speak to you for a moment outside?"
"Of course," Alistair said, moving quickly towards the door. He really didn't respond to staring – particularly angry staring – well now did he? "Are you all right?" he asked the minute the door had shut behind them.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Aunn asked evasively.
"Well you told us that you wanted to be alone for your reunion and then fifteen minutes later you sent Trian to go fetch us," Alistair replied reasonably. "And then you quickly took off. That makes it sound like your reunion didn't go very well."
"It didn't go badly," Aunn claimed. "It's just…" she trailed off as she considered how much she wanted to tell him. Well, no, that wasn't entirely accurate. She didn't want to tell him anything but since he was so curious then she would clearly need to tell him something and the question was how much she was willing to reveal to this strange human man who looked so much like her brother. "Gorim was a friend of mine from Orzammar."
Alistair nodded. "He intimated as much. He also mentioned that he was your second before your exile. I guess that means that I'm his replacement for you, huh?"
"In some ways," Aunn agreed. "In others…well, you're two different people." Not to mention that she wasn't about to start anything with a human or anyone that reminded her so much of Bhelen, in appearance at least. "He told me that my father is ill and that he himself has gotten married."
"Oh," Alistair said, looking concerned. "I'm sorry to hear about your father. Is it serious?"
"I don't know," Aunn answered. "I didn't see him although Gorim did and he certainly seemed to think so."
"I can see why you'd be upset about that but what's wrong with Gorim getting married?" Alistair wondered innocently. "I mean, isn't that a good thing?"
"In a way," Aunn said carefully. "It means that he's adjusting to Surface life, putting down roots but that's kind of the problem. He's settling down and I'm not. It's a little disconcerting but I'll be fine and that wasn't what I wanted to talk about anyway."
"Then what was it?" Alistair asked, looking a bit doubtful but deciding to let it go.
"He gave me a letter from my father," Aunn explained. "I don't want to read it. To be honest, I want to destroy it. Just the same, doing so would ultimately just make me wonder about if forever but I have some…issues with my father at present and so I don't really trust myself not to give in burn it unread."
"That makes sense," Alistair remarked. "You did say something about how he was the one who through you out of Orzammar. Are you asking me to hold onto the letter for you? I promise I won't read it."
"If you wouldn't mind," Aunn said gratefully, taking the letter out of her pack and handing it to him. "And if you could not mention this to the others…"
"Not to worry," Alistair assured her with a smile as he put the letter into his own pack. "As far as I'm concerned, this is officially a Grey Warden secret now and you know how we are about those…"
….
From what Alistair and Leliana had been able to find out from Gorim, Loghain had indeed put a bounty on the Grey Wardens and declared them to be traitors that left King Cailan to die at Ostagar although many refused to believe such from the mythical order of legend. The guard captains had all seen a picture of her and Alistair – probably from the eyewitness account of that man Leliana had forced her to spare when they had first met in that Lothering tavern – although the common people had no idea who they were.
Loghain had declared himself regent through his daughter, the Queen-Consort (and since she was of age that certainly carried with it some unfortunate implications), and since he had done this without calling a Landsmeet the nobles were up in arms about it. Apparently a Landsmeet was when all the nobles in Ferelden came to Denerim to vote on important issues like succession which made it sort of like the Assembly although given how much spread out the Ferelden nobility was compared to the Orzammar nobility they obvious met far less often. The nobles, unhappy with being told to just accept Loghain's rule and viewing him as a usurper who may have been involved with Cailan's death, had began a civil war that was further distracting everyone from the Blight. Oh joy.
Alistair had not been pleased when they'd managed to piece together where Genitivi was really headed: a small hidden town called Haven. Well, no, actually he was fine with that. He just hadn't been thrilled to hear that that was their next destination.
"Let me get this straight," Alistair said, staring at her as if she'd just suggested putting their extremely important quest on hold to go look for someone she vaguely knew…which actually wasn't a bad way of summing up the situation. "You want us to delay seeking out the second treaty or going to go appeal to Arl Eamon for aid – which we've already put off once for the sake of you finding someone in Loghain's power base of Denerim – in order to go looking for a sacred object for a religion that you don't even believe in?"
"Well if you put it that way it does sound rather silly, doesn't it?" Aunn asked rhetorically.
"I'll confess, I'm rather at a loss for any other way TO put it," Alistair had told her.
"We are looking for Brother Genitivi who has vanished, whose home has been infiltrated by those willing to murder anyone who gets in their way or who asks too many questions, and is likely in a great deal of trouble himself," Aunn helpfully rephrased for him. "How is that not a good cause?"
"I'm not saying it's not for a good cause," Alistair said pointedly. "I just am not really sure we have time for it and it won't benefit us in the slightest."
"Of course it will," Aunn disagreed. "I mean, isn't Arl Eamon ill?"
Alistair looked confused. "So we've been told but what does that have to do with anything?"
"If he's so sick that his wife is sending people out to look for the Urn then I don't he'll be of much use to us. If we find the Urn and take some ashes back to heal him then we'll be guaranteed our aid as not only will he have reasons of his own to help but he'll be in our debt, as well. And who knows what we'd find upon arriving at Redcliffe? We may be sent to track down the Ashes anyway if the Arlessa can't help us so if you think about it, we're just saving time," Aunn had claimed.
Alistair hadn't been happy about it but in the end he had relented, mostly because he was still worried about her. Unfortunately, he had also taken to trying to return the favor for when she'd spoken to him about Duncan and comfort her and she was, frankly, not interested. Instead, she had taken to using Morrigan as her Alistair-shield.
"So it occurs to me that I know less about you then I do about Sten and since he barely talks at all that's kind of pathetic," Aunn announced.
"Is there something in particular you would like to know?" Morrigan asked her. "Or would you like me to start listing off random facts about myself?"
"Either would work, really," Aunn replied with a shrug. "But how about you tell me about, I don't know, your mother?"
"Why do you ask me such questions?" Morrigan asked annoyed. "I do not probe you for pointless information, do I?"
Aunn shrugged. "No but you can feel free to." And she would feel free to lie or simply not answer if she felt the need to.
"Oh what luck," Morrigan said dryly. "But how about this? Tell me about your mother and I will tell you about mine."
"Okay," Aunn agreed. That sounded like an innocent enough question. "My mother died ten years ago. She had been ill for a few weeks prior to her death and so naturally we had no idea if she had actually been sick or if she'd been poisoned. She wasn't unpopular but my father was only forty then and there were quite a few noblewomen who tried to attract his attention after my mother's death. They might as well not have bothered, though, as nothing came out of that."
"Did you love her?" Morrigan asked, sounding slightly scornful at the very thought.
"Yes," Aunn answered simply. And why not? Her mother was long dead so that was hardly going to come back and haunt her.
"I suppose we all have our weaknesses," Morrigan said a little icily.
"I never claimed otherwise," Aunn replied. "Although since she's dead I can't imagine it's a very useful weakness for others to exploit."
Morrigan was about to respond when she spotted a blonde-haired human woman dressed in simple peasant's clothing heading towards them, looking desperate.
"Oh, thank the Maker!" the woman sounded relieved if slightly out of breath. "We need help! They attacked the wagon! Please help us! Follow me, I'll take you to them." Without even waiting for an answer, she ran back in the direction she had just come from.
"We have to go help her!" Leliana said immediately.
"It is a waste of time," Sten said curtly.
"If they have been attacked by bandits or darkspawn and we can help then we must do it," Wynne opined.
"Please tell me that we're not going to waste our time on this," Morrigan said irritated.
"I don't sense any darkspawn," Alistair revealed. "That means that it must just be bandits."
"It doesn't really matter if we want to help them or not," Aunn decided. "We're heading in that direction and so chances are we'll run into the bandits as it is and they'll attack us on sight. Unless we want to find a different path to take, which seems like quite a bit of an inconvenience for some bandits that will be easily enough dispatched, then we don't have much of a choice."
Not really bothering to walk any faster despite how serious the situation sounded, they eventually made their way to a clearing where a single elf was standing next to an attacked wagon. The woman was standing next to him and smirked over at them. The elf stepped forward and almost lazily raised his arm. Immediately, heavily armored men began to pour into the clearing from the bushes nearby and from behind the wagon itself.
"I'm guessing that that was a trap then?" Alistair deadpanned.
"That seems like a fair assumption," Aunn agreed before quickly stepping out of the way as a giant log came crashing down on the spot where she had just been standing.
The elf narrowed his eyes and took out his blades as he dropped into a battle-ready stance. "The Grey Wardens die here!"
The woman behind held her hands out to reveal that they were sparkling with magic. So she was a mage then. Well that was fine. Aunn had fully intended to kill her anyway as she had led them into an ambush – not very skillfully as only half of them even cared about the wagon and Aunn wasn't one of them – but now she wouldn't have to deal with her companions protests about killing civilians no matter the part they may have played in trying to kill them.
She wanted to head straight for the mage but four of the bandits were quicker in reaching her and so she had them to contend with, first. Glancing over at her companions she could see that there were five attacking Alistair while everyone else was just dealing with two or three. It seemed that these people, whoever they were, not only knew that they were Grey Wardens but which of them were.
Being surrounded on all sides was probably one of the most inconvenient combat situations she could be in and she cursed herself for allowing it to happen. Unfortunately, there was no way she could simply escape the situation that she could see so she chose one of the men to begin killing and did her best to ignore the blows she couldn't possibly hope to block from the other three.
Her first intended victim looked a little put-out that she had chosen to go after him as that put him in danger of actually dying or at least being injured before his fellow bandits could subdue her but not particularly worried about the outcome of this fight although he probably should have been. One missed swing on his part was all the opportunity she needed before she managed to slice her sword through his armor like butter. She met his shocked gaze as his body shuddered before pulling the sword out and kicking the man back out of her way in one fluid move.
She turned to the next man she was going to kill and was vaguely pleased to see him tense upon having her attention on him. This one made sure to time his swing more carefully than the last one so that she wouldn't be able to take advantage of a mistake so easily but when one of the other men attacking her suddenly quit the fight – most likely due to Morrigan having set him on fire – she took advantage of his momentary distraction to bring her number of opponents down to one.
This final bandit looked grim but determined as he slashed away at her. Aunn had been getting hit quite a bit in this fight and so she was grateful that she had such high-quality – if not quite as high-quality as she would prefer – armor on to lessen the impact of the blows. She was injured now and he was not so he did have that advantage over her but the simple fact of the matter was that she was more skilled than he was and in a one-on-one fight there was simply no way he was going to win, which she proved by quickly gutting him.
Now that her fight was over, Aunn glanced around the clearing to see that there were no more bandits standing. A pity: she had really wanted to kill that mage. Still, as long as she was dead then Aunn supposed that that was enough.
"Do we have any idea why these people attacked us?" Aunn asked. "They weren't simple bandits and not only seemed to know that Alistair and I were Grey Wardens but were targeting us specifically for that."
"The one that was in charge had an Antivan accent," Leliana offered. "This may mean that he was a Crow."
"A what?" Aunn asked uncertainly.
"An Antivan Crow," Leliana explained. "They are a group of extremely prestigious assassins that operate out of Antiva and are rumored to be the real power there."
"Not Loghain is sending professional assassins after us?" Alistair demanded. "I feel that it would be remiss if I didn't let you know that I've just found reason five."
"I hate to bring this up but the man you are speaking of still lives," Morrigan informed them, sounding bored. "Perhaps we will have the answers you seek."
That was a good plan. No matter how skilled this assassin, this possible Crow, was he had still been defeated by them once and now it was seven on one so they could be reasonably sure that he would not be able to escape from them or try again.
She nodded. "Very well. Wake him."
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