They had left the tavern nearly two weeks before, and they were nearing Lake Calenhad. The snow hadn't stopped falling, but they couldn't delay any longer. They had a Blight to defeat. She was walking at the head of the group, watching her breath freeze in the frosty air before her, when Sten moved to her side.
"You are not as callow as I thought. You held your composure when your mate's life was in danger." He said in his usual blunt manner. She frowned at him.
"You thought I was callow?" she asked in surprise. He nodded.
"You sound surprised. You must have heard this before." He said as though it were the most normal thing in the world. He saw her bland expression and shrugged. "You'll get over it. Eventually." He grunted. She groaned.
"Why did I let you out of that cage again?" she asked jokingly. He took her question seriously, to no one's surprise.
"I have wondered that, myself. It is one of the many things I find puzzling about your behavior." He admitted. She grinned slightly.
"Well if we're being completely honest, you are pretty puzzling to me too." She pointed out. It was Sten's turn to look surprised.
"What is there to be puzzled by? I'm a simple creature, I like swords, I follow orders. There's nothing else to know about me." He replied. She shook her head.
"I don't think you're that simple." She argued. Sten's face quirked in what could have been amusement.
"As I said, you're not as callow as I thought." He repeated. She smiled at him.
"Will you tell me now why you were caged?" she asked. The giant sighed, his violet eyes distant.
"I caged myself. A weak mind is a deadly foe, as I'm sure you are aware." He said quietly. She frowned.
"When you say a weak mind, what exactly are you talking about?" she asked, curiosity evident in her tone. He looked down at his feet.
"That is…complicated. I told you once that I was sent here. I was not sent alone. I came to your land with seven of the Beresaad—my brothers—to seek answers about the Blight. We made our way across the Ferelden countryside without incident, seeing nothing of the threat we were sent to observe. Until the night we camped at Lake Calenhad." He paused, and she could see the memory running through his mind. "They came from everywhere: the earth beneath our feet, the air above us, our own shadows harbored the darkspawn. I saw the last of the creatures cut down too late. I fell." Zeriah nodded. She knew what that felt like.
"That sounds like what happened to Alistair and I at Ostagar." She remembered. He studied her.
"I have heard of that. Your kith stood their ground while others fled. That is all one can do." He said, respect in his tone. "I don't know how long I lay on the battlefield among the dead, nor do I know how the farmers found me. I only know that when I woke, I was no longer among my brothers, and my sword was gone from my hand." He continued.
"What did you do?" she asked, enthralled by his tale. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before continuing.
"I searched for it. And when that failed, I asked my rescuers what had become of it." He said in a strange tone.
"Did the farmers know where it was?" she asked. He shook his head.
"They said they found me with nothing." He answered. She frowned.
"Did you believe them?" she asked. She could sense where the story was going, and it frightened her.
"I did. I knew they didn't have the blade. They had no reason to lie to me. I panicked. Unthinking, I struck them down." He revealed. She was too startled to say anything, and he read the look on her face. "That sword was made for my hand alone. I have carried it from the day I was set into the Beresaad, I was to die wielding it for my people. Even if I could cross Ferelden and Tevinter unarmed and alone to bring my report to the Arishok, I would have been slain on sight by the Antaam. They would know me as soulless, a deserter. No soldier would cast aside his blade while he still drew breath." He concluded, sorrow in his deep voice. She frowned, but she understood. Her sword was the last thing she had left of her family, and she would be devastated if she lost it.
"Couldn't you search for it?" she suggested. He scoffed.
"If I knew where to look, it would be in my hand now." He assured her. She bit her lip.
"Where did you fight the darkspawn?" she asked. He nodded ahead.
"Near Lake Calenhad." He said. She gave him a determined nod.
"We'll find it." She promised. He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest.
"Perhaps those words are empty…but thank you, all the same." He replied before dropping back to his usual spot at the rear of the group. As they reached the lake, Zeriah noticed a figure digging around in a pile of assorted weapons and armor. She marched right over to him.
"Do you happen to have any Qunari swords?" she asked. The squirrely man jumped at her approach.
"Any what? Why? Are you looking for some?" he asked in a thick, uneducated accent. She glowered at him.
"No, but my large, angry friend here is." She said, jerking a thumb toward Sten's hulking form. The grimy man shivered.
"I don't have anything! This land got sold to me by a rat named Faryn, but not before he took everything from the plot." He whimpered. She frowned.
"Where is this man?" she asked. He shrugged.
"Last I heard he was in the Frostback Mountains, I swear it!" he cried. She nodded.
"You better be right." She threatened. The man looked as though he was going to wet his pants as he turned and sprinted away from her. She smiled happily, proud of her success.
"You continue to impress me, Warden." Sten admitted. She shrugged.
"I suppose it's what I do." She replied with a grin. Sten grunted in approval before leaving her alone. Her smile didn't fade as he walked away. It seemed that she was finally breaking through the quiet giant's shell.
The Frostback Mountains lived up to their name. At this time of year, it was too frigid for snow to fall, and the group was having a rough time. Alistair looked over at what could be seen of his lover's face. She wore a scarf tied around her head, so that only her eyes and the very top of her nose were visible. Even with the added protection, he could see how rosy the cold was turning her pale skin. He reached over to squeeze her gloved hand, and he could tell by the brightness in her eyes that she was smiling. She had been frustrated over encountering the man, Faryn, who had told them to go to Redcliffe to find some dwarf named Dwyn, and he was glad she was in a better mood.
"Have you ever been to Orzammar?" her muffled voice asked. He shook his equally covered head.
"No, the traveling I've done with you is the most I've ever done, really." He admitted. She nodded in understanding.
"What about dwarves? Do you know many of them? The only ones I know are Bodahn and Sandal." She continued. He shrugged.
"There were a few dwarven wardens, and I know they liked to drink. They could drink for hours on end. Oh, but they could never outdrink this one man, I think he was from the Anderfels, anyway, he was a burly man with the biggest fuzziest beard you've ever seen. Honestly, the man drank all the time, but he never got drunk! Finally we all made a pool to see how many pints it would take to put him under the table. We never did find out. He said he'd drink a pint for every half-pint the rest of us drank. He was still going by the time the rest of us were passed out. I'm told Duncan walked in later on in the night and saw us all passed out from one end of the hall to the other, and Gregoir was still drinking. Duncan laughed until he nearly…" he trailed off. He was surprised at the pain that Duncan's name still caused him. He thought that it would be easier to deal with by now, months after his death, but it wasn't. He felt Zeriah's small hand squeeze his.
"It doesn't really get easier does it?" she asked quietly, echoing his thoughts. He put his arm around her shoulders and sighed.
"It hasn't seemed to, no." he agreed. He felt as though a somber cloud had drifted over him as they continued to walk toward the gates of Orzammar.
"Do you think Orzammar is warm?" Zeriah asked in her soothing voice. He grinned beneath his scarf and chuckled. Even when she wasn't trying, she could bring him out of his melancholy.
"Maker, I hope so." He replied. She laughed and snuggled closer to his side. He could feel her warmth through his clothes, and it made him realize how freezing he really was. Alistair could tell that something was on her mind at the silence that followed their moment of happiness. "What's the matter, love?" he asked softly. She shrugged.
"Why do you believe in the Maker?" she asked. He blinked. No one had ever asked him that before. She didn't stop talking as he thought. "I only ask because I'm not sure if I do anymore." She revealed.
"How can you not believe in the Maker? Do you not see the beauty in the world around us each and every day?" Leliana's voice said as she appeared beside them. While her words were positive, her voice was rough and low. Zeriah's dark brow furrowed.
"I didn't say that I don't believe, I said I wasn't sure. And I also see the darkness and everything that can be taken from you in this world." She argued. Traven was standing right behind them with Morrigan, silently observing the conversation. Alistair shared a glance with the mage. They would let the women hash it out. Traven was clearly uncomfortable with interfering when he had ended things with the redhead some time before. Leliana looked upset, her pretty brow furrowed.
"You cannot focus on the shadows in your life. You must pay attention to the good things." She pointed out. Morrigan opened her mouth to come to Zeriah's defense, but Traven's sudden squeeze of her hand silenced the apostate. Alistair felt Zeriah tense beside him and he opened his mouth to stop her from saying something she might regret, but she was faster than he.
"As soon as everyone you have ever known and loved gets massacred by someone you thought was a friend, you can tell me not to focus on my shadows, but until then, keep your perfect little nose out of my affairs." She snapped. Alistair could swear the air grew colder. He glanced at Traven and Morrigan, whose eyes looked equally shocked at what she had said. He supposed she was absolutely right, but it was still sort of harsh. Leliana's blue eyes looked sad, but surprisingly unhurt.
"I have lost more than you know, dear friend. But I hope you can see how much good you have today. Alistair, for instance, and all of us who love and support you." The former bard said before quietly slipping to the back of the party once more. Zeriah had tears in her eyes.
"Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded slowly before a look of worry entered her green eyes.
"You know that I love you, right? And that I would never give you up for anything?" she asked frantically. He nodded at her.
"Of course I do." He assured her. She nodded.
"I don't take you for granted." She whispered. He was about to answer, but they heard shouting up ahead.
"King Loghain will not suffer the delay of his appointed messenger." A man said. Alistair snorted.
"So he fancies himself a king now? I hope I get to kill that man someday soon." He muttered. Zeriah nodded in agreement, fire in her emerald eyes.
"Veata! This land is held in trust for the sovereign dwarven kings. I cannot allow entry at this time." The dwarf in front of the gates said in a weary voice. Apparently he had been dealing with Loghain's cronies for a long time.
"King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyr or lord or whatever you call them in your Assembly. I am his appointed messenger!" he cried. Alistair rolled his brown eyes at the man before them.
"I don't care if you're the King's wiper, Orzammar will have none but its own until our throne is settled." The dwarf answered sarcastically. Zeriah snorted in amusement, and everyone turned their eyes on her. Alistair put his hand on his sword. She looked so tiny and defenseless. He knew that she could probably wipe out all three men before they could blink, but she still looked fragile.
"I am a Grey Warden, and I require the assistance of your people." She said in her clear, commanding tone as she handed the dwarf the treaty. Alistair could hear the nobility dripping off of every syllable that she said. He loved when she played negotiator. Loghain's messenger clearly didn't share his feelings.
"The Wardens killed King Cailan and nearly doomed Ferelden! They're sworn enemies of King Loghain!" he cried. Alistair watched as Zeriah flicked deadly eyes to the brainwashed man. She strode over to him, and the force of her posture and the danger in her eyes made her seem three feet taller than she really was.
"You listen to me, you ignorant twit: If you continue to attempt to proselytize these people into your twisted, uneducated schemes, I will be forced to run this sword through you, and it will happen so quickly that you will not even realize it until you hit the ground. I will give you one chance to leave. Take it or find out if I enjoy following through on my threats, either way is acceptable to me." She said calmly. The fact that she spoke those words so coolly and casually made them exponentially more terrifying. The messenger nodded and fled with his companions in tow, and Alistair could see the pride in his lover's eyes. She turned back to the dwarf with an expectant expression on what could be seen of her face. The dwarf chuckled and handed her the treaty.
"Thank the stone you got those goons to leave. I was going to kill them myself if they didn't stop nagging me. You're free to go in, Warden, just mind yourselves." He chuckled. Alistair followed her through the massive gates with a grin beneath the scarf that covered his face. It was warm inside Orzammar.