Hi all, I promise I have not given up on this story, it is just ridiculously busy at the moment. I do apologise for the long delay and I will try to get the chapters to you as soon as I have the time.
This chapter has been Beta'd by EchoesOfSilence. Thank you lovely lady for your patience, time and support.
So last time our adventurers got trapped in the fade, managed to escape with a little help from Solana Amell and Niall, killed a lot of demons and managed to secure the aid of the Templars.
Now the adventurers finally arrive in Denerim...
Bioware owns Dragon age and all that is affiliated with it.
"Talk to her," Leliana whispered to Alistair; making sure that Darcy didn't hear their conversation.
"I can't. Every time I try, she gives me this look that makes the words wither and die in my throat," Alistair answered glancing at Darcy with a worried expression.
"She hasn't said a word since leaving Wynne at Redcliffe," Leliana sighed, worrying her lip.
"I know." Alistair agreed.
Out of all of them, Darcy was the only one that hadn't spoken about what happened in the fade. She had withdrawn into herself and only spoke when someone spoke to her first or when she issued orders.
"Alistair, you must try and speak to her." Leliana urged him again.
"She doesn't want to talk. I can't make her talk; no one can make Darcy do anything that she doesn't want to do." Alistair kicked at a stone that lay in the road; feeling frustrated, angry and a little bit lost.
Over the past few weeks of being together, Alistair had begun to see Darcy as his source of calm and equilibrium. Nothing rattled Darcy and she always appeared outwardly calm in any situation. It was something that he admired about her. So, it was a little distressing to see her this way.
"She talks to you," Leliana said, "Out of all of us, she talks to you about her past and always asks your opinion about everything. She trusts you."
"She talks to you about those things too," Alistair observed; not feeling the least bit convinced by Leliana's argument.
"She doesn't share everything with me and she is more guarded than when she is with you." Leliana said softly.
"I don't understand," Alistair frowned.
"She is more relaxed when she is with you; she even allows herself to smile. That is not true when she speaks to the rest of us."
Alistair scratched the back of his head as he tried to sort through what Leliana was saying.
"Oh, I uh, haven't noticed that before. Are you sure?"
Leliana giggled, "Of course I'm sure. She got off the roof of that tower in Redcliffe when you spoke with her, didn't she? She seemed a lot happier and at peace after you spoke to her."
Alistair grimaced, "That was before I made a fool of myself by giving her that stupid rose. I don't know what I was thinking."
"Nonsense, you didn't make a fool of yourself; it was a lovely gesture and I know for a fact that it meant a lot to her." Leliana said; giving him a sly smile.
She had watched Darcy speak with Sandal, the travelling merchant's son, the following day. She was holding a beautiful rose in her hand which she showed to the young dwarf as she spoke. Sandal had grinned broadly, shouting "Enchantment!" before plucking the rose from her fingers and running to the merchant's cart to find his equipment.
"But she said she only wanted to be friends," Alistair mumbled dejectedly.
"And so you are giving up after just one try," Leliana shook her head; looking disappointed.
"But she said she couldn't be what I wanted her to be," Alistair was becoming more and more confused as the conversation progressed.
He didn't want to go over the events of that evening again. He had done so a million times in his own head already. Alistair had fooled himself when he thought he could handle it if Darcy did not reciprocate his feelings. Her rejection had stung more than he was ready to admit and he wasn't certain that he could handle it a second time. He had told her that he was alright with just being her friend, but he had lied about that; to himself and to her.
What was worse was the fact that he couldn't get her out of his mind. He wasn't so sure if he would have been able to resist if the demon had trapped him in a dream with Darcy. His dreams these last few days on the road to Denerim had been ... interesting. Having never had the opportunity for such... dalliances, he was at a loss as to how his mind could conjure up such images. He was not a complete innocent when it came to such things. He did, after all, share a dorm with other Templar recruits and six months with a bunch of rough and ready Grey Wardens could make even a more experienced man blush with some of their stories.
"That doesn't mean you should give up so easily Alistair," Leliana gently reprimanded.
"It doesn't?" Alistair asked; his eyebrows pulling up in confusion.
Leliana shook her head, "No, it doesn't and you shouldn't let it discourage you."
"I still don't understand," Alistair said; glancing at Darcy again, just to make sure that she was still walking ahead of them and hadn't heard their conversation.
"What Darcy meant was that you deserve better than what she can give you." Leliana explained gently.
Alistair shook his head; even more confused, "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would she even think that?"
"Darcy believes it's true." Leliana answered.
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Alistair grumbled.
"Then maybe you should make her believe otherwise," Leliana suggested.
Alistair nodded. He would. He would make her believe that there was no one else that could even remotely be as perfect for him as she was.
Sten had been walking next to the little warrior for two hours now and still the little one had not uttered a word. He was grateful for the silence; he did not feel the need to fill each waking moment with unnecessary talking, but the warrior's silence was a little unsettling.
Usually the little one, (as he had started to call the little human in his mind) would ask him questions about his culture and his people and he would patiently answer a few of the questions before grumbling that they had better things to do with their time (like killing Darkspawn). Secretly, he enjoyed the little one's questions; always making the enquiry interesting; challenging him, making him think.
There was one question he refused to give an answer to; why he had murdered that family. Revealing the reasons behind the murder was too personal and, at first, he didn't believe that a puny human would be able to understand. Now, however, he was having second thoughts. The little warrior had shown remarkable skill, not only with swords, but with the mind; something that was cherished amongst his people. Perhaps this human would be capable of understanding why losing Asala had been like losing a limb. Without his sword, he was only half a warrior.
He did not like some of the decisions that the little one made; like saving that weak old human lying in a bed in the castle with the walking dead men. Even Sten could see that death wrapped around the old man like a cloak. He had reluctantly agreed to help after the little one had explained about the politics of the human culture. Sten couldn't care less, but he acceded that the human would know more about these things than he did.
He had not liked the idea of walking into a tower full of unbound saarebas. It was foolishness and he had loudly objected to the idea. Of course, the little one had explained why it had been necessary to go to the tower and had even suggested that he stay at the inn to wait for the rest of them to return. He had agreed. Two days he had waited for them to return. On the third day he had come to the conclusion that the humans had fallen under the Saarebas spell and had had been corrupted. He had walked to the end of the pier, ready to demand that he be taken over to the tower to see for himself what had become of the humans. He had arrived just in time to see the humans return.
His two days of waiting had not been uneventful. After suffering the wary glances of the humans at the inn for most of the first morning, he decided that he would go about exploring the immediate countryside. Perhaps, he reasoned, he would find some Darkspawn to kill.
It did not take long before he had recognised the area as the place where he had lost his brothers after being attacked by Darkspawn shortly after landing in Ferelden. He and the Mabari had set out early on the second day to pay his respects to his brothers' final resting place only to find a human scavenger picking through the remains. Filled with righteous anger, he had chased the scavenger away, but not before learning of what happened to his beloved Asala.
Yes, he would speak to the little warrior of his Asala.
"You do not speak. I would know why." Sten spoke to the little human walking beside him.
"I do not wish to speak," Darcy answered, "I thought you prefered silence."
"I do," Sten agreed, "but there is a time and a place for speaking and I wish to speak. Will you listen?"
Darcy nodded, "Speak."
"You have asked me more than once why I murdered those farmers. I wish to tell you." Sten took the little one's silence as consent to proceed.
"The Arishok, leader of our armies, asked the question, 'What is the Blight', and we were sent here to find the answer. When we arrived, we were attacked by a large horde of Darkspawn. They were too numerous and overwhelmed us. When I awoke, it was to find that my brothers were dead and my sword gone. The farmers who found me offered to give me aid. I demanded they tell me where my sword was and when they did not know, I killed them."
A long silence stretched between them before Darcy finally spoke.
"You killed those people because you lost your sword."
It was not a question, but a statement. It carried no judgement, nor did it carry anger.
"Yes." Sten answered.
"Why?"
"My people believe that the sword of a warrior carries his soul. Without it, I am lost."
"Do you have any idea where to begin looking for it?" Darcy asked; finally looking at the giant man.
"Yes," Sten answered again.
"Then we will find it." Darcy said; nodding confidently.
And he believed it would be so.
Morrigan glanced in the direction of giant and the petite Warden and rolled her eyes as she heard Darcy make yet another promise that she would no doubt keep, or die trying, because she was duty bound to honour it.
Personally, she thought Darcy could do with a little less honour and duty. Then, on the other hand, she could use this to her advantage. Judging from what she had so far been reading in Mother's Black Grimoire; she may just have to call on Darcy for a favour herself.
She shuddered as she remembered the words she had read by the light of her little campfire the previous evening. If what the Grimoire said was true, then Mother was not to be trusted and therefore, Mother would need to be dealt with. Morrigan was not foolish enough to think that Mother would be easily defeated. Mother had not lived as long as she had otherwise and now, Morrigan knew how she had managed it.
Facing Mother herself would be impossible, since Mother could simply perform the ritual there and then and Morrigan would be no more. No, someone else would have to go in her stead and she knew just who to ask...
Morrigan glanced sideways at the now silent pair; one, tall, proud and stoic giant and one small, duty and honour bound woman. Yes, she would ask Darcy to help her with her little problem.
She would still carry out her task as Mother had told her to, but she would do it for herself. She gave Alistair a baleful glare that made the idiot start and nearly trip over his own feet. Why the last male Grey Warden had to be a buffoon, she could not say. But, she was willing to pay the price; no price was too high for something so valuable.
Now if Alistair had only been a bit more like the Qunari... She glanced at the tall figure that was walking slightly ahead of her. His back was straight and strong; his head held high. His arms and legs were thick ropes of muscle and he moved with a grace that was uncharacteristic in someone of his size. Morrigan knew that the Qunari had no place in their culture for such intimate relations. If a Qunari got the urge, they were simply entered into a breeding program until it was no longer a problem.
She wondered what Sten would make of her advances. No doubt he would not take kindly to it, but it certainly would be amusing and it would pass the time during their travels when there was nothing to do but walk.
A sly smile plucked at the corners of her mouth as she moved to catch up with Sten and Darcy. Who knew, maybe Sten would surprise her. Stranger things had happened...
"We will enter Denerim an hour before the gates close for the night. We will have to be careful not to draw attention to ourselves," Darcy eyed Alistair sceptically; wondering if he was at all capable of staying covert.
"Where will we be staying?" Alistair asked; donning the cloak that Bodahn had procured for him and Darcy. The cunning merchant was turning out to be very handy to have around.
"We will stay at the Pearl for now. From there we can assess the situation and see just how welcome we are in Denerim," Darcy answered putting on her own cloak.
"The Pearl? Huh, sounds like a nice enough place," Alistair shrugged.
He got a few odd looks from Darcy and the others and he wondered what he had said now. He shrugged again and settled down to wait for the cover of darkness before entering the sprawling city of Denerim.
An hour before the gates were due to close for the night, the companions joined the throng of tired citizens returning to the city after a long day of work. Most of them laboured on the surrounding farms and left the city walls early in the mornings, returning just before the gates were due to close. The throng of labourers provided the perfect cover for the companions and they managed to slip into the city without being noticed. Staying to the shadows as much as possible, Darcy led the motley group through a maze of dark alleys and little backstreets until finally reaching their destination.
The Pearl. A house of ill repute where the business deals were shady, the entertainment was lewd and a person could stay unnoticed if he, or she so chose. It was the perfect place for the companions to stay and maintain a low profile while they were in the city.
To Alistair, the smell of tobacco smoke and spilt ale was expected. So was the sea-hardened sailors who were deep into their cups and the raucous laughter of a few burly men playing cards. There was even the customary barkeep in a dirty smock polishing a tankard with an even dirtier rag. What was not expected was the scantily clad girls, displaying their various assets and flirting with the patrons. Alistair stared in shock as one of the women, dressed only in her undergarments, was pulled onto a thuggish looking man's lap and groped hard enough to make her yelp in pain, much to the delight of the occupants at the table.
"If you want to keep out of trouble in this place, you will stop staring," Darcy spoke by his side in a low whisper.
Alistair finally managed to tear his eyes away from the sight and scowled angrily at Darcy.
"A brothel? Why in the name of the Maker would you bring us to a brothel?"
"Would you rather we stayed at the Gnawed Noble where every Arl, Bann and any other person who fancies himself noble will be staying?" Darcy asked patiently.
"Well what's the harm in wanting to stay in a place where you can be certain to wake up alive the next morning?" Alistair demanded.
Darcy nodded, "Hmm, and I am certain that you won't begrudge the person who reports our whereabouts to Loghain the moment we set foot in that place and claims his just reward. From what I can tell, the reward is quite substantial."
She fished a crumpled piece of parchment from one of the many pockets on her belt and held it out to Alistair. Taking the parchment, he unfolded it and gasped as he looked at an image that closely resembled himself. Above the image, written in big, bold lettering was the word 'Wanted'. Underneath this, written in smaller letters, was the words 'for acts of treason against the crown.' Underneath the sketch a reward of one hundred gold was offered.
"Oh, uhm..." Alistair didn't really know what to say.
Darcy smiled reassuringly and patted his arm, "Don't worry, I will make sure you wake up alive in the morning. Come on, I will show you to your room," she smiled.
Alistair smiled bashfully and followed Darcy up some rickety stairs and down a long corridor with rooms on either side. Fumbling with the piece of parchment, he opened it once more and frowned.
"Do you think my nose is really that big?"
In the mid-morning hustle and bustle of Denerim's busy market district, no one saw the cloaked figure slip from shadow to shadow as it made its way to a small, secluded back-alley, notorious for its more illicit merchandise.
The figure paused and checked that the hood of the cloak properly obscured the face hidden underneath, before slipping into the alley. In the mid-summer heat, the stench of urine and rubbish littering the small street was almost overpowering. The shadowy figure did not seem to notice, however, too intent on finding its destination.
Three quarters of the way down the alley, the figure stopped and studied an unremarkable wooden door that would be easily missed if one didn't know to look for it. Two crow's wings were carved into the wood of the door; indicating that this was indeed the place. Stepping forward, the figure stretched out a gloved hand to grab the door handle and twisted it open. The heavy door squeaked loudly on its hinges as it swung slowly inwards and the shadowy figure stepped into the semi-darkness of the room inside.
Rows and rows of shelves lined every wall of the small shop and dust motes floated in the meagre sunlight that filtered through a filthy window. The shelves held a myriad of caltrops, triggers, concentrator, distillation and corrupter agents and other trap-making paraphernalia. On a smaller shelf, hidden in a corner was a collection of vials and bottles of all shapes and sizes, no doubt containing deathroot extract, magebane, deep mushroom and various other poisons. Behind the counter that stretched the width of the small room a vast array of daggers, dirks and large knives were neatly displayed in a display cabinet. On the counter itself a smaller collection of pocket knives and throwing daggers were displayed.
A squat, barrel-chested man appeared in the doorway that led to another room beyond the counter. He had a dark complexion and a bushy beard and his beady eyes were small and calculating as they studied the figure in front of him. He rubbed his hands together at the thought of making his first sale of the day and he stepped around the counter to greet his customer.
The figure had picked up a sleek looking throwing knife and was testing the weight if it; turning it this way and that way to first study the handle and then the blade. The merchant cleared his throat politely and the figure returned the knife to its place on the counter.
"Ah, messere, welcome to my little store," the merchant began, "It is very pleased, I am that you would take the time to browse my merchandise."
The merchant spoke with an Antivan accent and a small smile plucked at the corners of the figure's mouth; satisfied that this was the contact she had been told about.
"Cesar, I presume," the figure said and the merchant's eyebrows rose in surprise at the sound of the feminine voice.
Cesar bowed deeply, "At your service, my lady, how may I help you."
"I seek the Birdwatcher," the woman stated.
Cesar's eyes sharpened and studied the figure in front of him speculatively.
"The Birdwatcher is a busy man. He has many birds in his care and must ensure that they are all well. Why do you wish to see the Birdwatcher?"
The hooded woman nodded, "I understand that he must be very busy indeed, but I would be very grateful if I could speak with him. I wish to hear a tale that only he can tell me."
The woman needed information then. Cesar was intrigued. No one outside of their organisation knew the coded language they used to convey messages. Cesar thought he knew all the agents that operated within the city of Denerim, but he did not recognise this woman at all.
"I will send a messenger bird with tidings of his whereabouts. Who will I say is looking for him?" Cesar said.
A small pouch of coins exchanged hands before the woman spoke, this time in perfect Antivan.
"Tell him one who walks the shadows is looking for him. Your messenger bird may find me at the Pearl."
Cesar's eyes grew wide and he bowed deeply once more, "Of course my lady."
When he came upright again he was alone. The only proof that the woman had been there, was the small pouch of coins.
Alistair scowled, watching the entrance of the Pearl from his vantage point at one of the round tables in the bar area. A tankard of barely touched ale sat in front of him and he absentmindedly traced the rim of it with his index finger.
Darcy had given him the slip... Again! They had been staying at the Pearl for almost a week and so far, he had been stuck inside the entire time. Reasonably, Darcy had explained that they needed to lay low whilst in Denerim, because there were wanted posters of the two of them all over the city. Still, he didn't think it was fair that everyone else got to go out and he had to be stuck inside this place. He shuddered, thinking of all the things he had witnessed this past week and no amount of hot water and soap would get rid of the dirty feeling that surrounded him.
He had been trying all week to speak to Darcy about what happened during the time they were trapped in the Fade, but to no avail. She would either change the subject or simply disappear when he wasn't looking.
He had tried to get advice from Sten, but that had been a mistake. The Qunari had just stared at him in horror when Alistair had asked him how he would go about wooing a woman, especially one like Darcy. He didn't know what he had said, but since then, the big man refused to be anywhere near him.
Leliana was no good either, since she just gave cryptic hints as to why Darcy might be behaving in a certain manner; it was just confusing. Why did women have to be so complicated?
He didn't even bother asking Morrigan. She was more likely to turn him into a toad than give him relationship advice. Darcy had assured him that there was no such spell, but he wasn't so sure. One could never be too careful.
So, today he was on a mission. He was determined to speak with her about her dream and he was determined to convince her that he needed to get out of this place. Movement at the entrance pulled Alistair out of his musing and he watched as a hooded figure entered the bar area. The figure lowered the hood revealing rich, auburn hair tied in a familiar braid. Several strands had escaped their binding and fell softly around a face that has become a fixture in his every waking and sleeping moment. Alistair watched as Darcy walked over to the bar and orders a tankard of ale before making her way over to where he was sitting. The smile she gave him almost made him forget that he was actually angry with her.
"Hello Alistair," she said before taking the seat next to him.
Alistair had noticed that, whenever possible, Darcy would sit with her back to the wall so that she had a perfect view of the entire room and entrance. Darcy was very subtle about it, but Alistair knew that she was constantly scanning the room and its patrons; observing everyone and everything.
"Hello Darcy," he greeted tersely; hoping that he could maintain his angry facade until he had managed to say everything that he wanted to say.
Her smile faltered and a small frown appeared between her eyebrows.
"You are angry with me," she stated.
"Yes, I am angry with you," Alistair agreed. "You gave me the slip again this morning when I had said that I wanted to go with you."
Darcy's face was unreadable as she silently studied Alistair over her tankard of ale.
"Must we go over this again, Alistair?" she said sounding a little tired, "We simply cannot risk being detected within the city; there are posters up everywhere."
"So you've said," Alistair agreed, "but you fail to understand my need to get out of this place; even if it is just for a couple of hours." He looked at her pleadingly; willing her to relent and let him go with her the next time she went out.
Darcy sighed. She knew he was having a hard time staying cooped up in a place like this and she could not blame him, but the risk of being discovered was too high. She wished she could explain to him the real reason why they had to be careful. She had no doubt that Loghain knew exactly who Alistair was. Why else would he be so adamant to find two, insignificant Grey Wardens? He would not go to all this trouble if he was merely worried that they would accuse him of treason at Ostagar. Loghain was a hero in the eyes of the people of Ferelden; who would believe their word over his?
The more she thought about it, the more certain she was of the fact that King Cailan was not a complete fool after all. Cailan had to have known that Loghain planned to betray him. That is why he conspired with Duncan to get him out of the Chantry's clutches and into the order of the Grey Wardens. It was a risky gamble considering the fact that Alistair might not have survived the ritual, but then, Cailan may not have been aware of this. Yes, she was certain that Alistair was Cailan's back-up plan. Alistair may have been born a bastard, but he still had royal blood.
"Alistair, there is no way that you will not be recognised out there and it is not possible for you to stay unnoticed, since you insist on encasing yourself in all that metal." She gestured with her hand to the armour that he was even now wearing.
"This metal has saved my life on many occasions, so don't dismiss it so readily." Alistair said loftily, "But, if it means that you will let me out of this Maker forsaken place, then I will wear something that is less obvious. Please Darcy, let me come with you. I'm afraid that I may fall victim to a certain ship's captain's advances. I am running out of excuses as to why I cannot 'pudding her peach', 'Grey her Warden', or 'float her frigate!'" Alistair's cheeks burned a brighter red with every phrase he uttered, but he had to make Darcy understand.
It was the sad, pleading puppy eyes that made Darcy take pity on him. "Very well, Alistair, you may come with me tonight when I meet with a contact on three conditions. One, you must find some suitable leather armour, two, you will not ask questions, three, you will do exactly as I say."
Alistair grinned happily and took a large sip of his ale, "Yes sir!" He said, giving her a mock salute.
Darcy glared at him, "That is not funny."
"It is a little," Alistair teased with twinkling eyes.
"So this ship's captain..." Darcy began, attempting to change the subject.
Alistair blushed again and fiddled with the tankard of ale in front of him. "Her name is Isabela and she has been staying here these past few days, propositioning everything on two legs," Alistair scowled.
"And she sought to proposition you?" Darcy asked; restraining the smile that threatened to form on her lips.
"More than once," Alistair mumbled.
"And you declined?"
"Yes, of course!" he answered indignantly.
"Where you not at all curious as to what she might have to offer?" Darcy asked; genuinely curious.
"I suspect the only thing that she might have to offer would result in me having to see a Healer soon afterwards."
Darcy canted her head to the side and studied Alistair for a moment, "Is that the only reason you had for declining?"
"Uh, yes," Alistair nodded. The blush was now creeping down his neck and he was shifting nervously on the edge of his seat.
Darcy gave him a shrewd smile, "Alistair... Have you ever..."
Alistair's eyes met Darcy's over the table and he swallowed nervously. This was not the conversation he planned to have with Darcy tonight!
"Have I ever...What?" Alistair asked innocently.
Darcy's smile grew wider, "Come now Alistair, you know what I'm talking about."
"Nope, I don't believe I do. You will have to enlighten me." Alistair took a large gulp of ale and wondered at his sudden brazenness. The ale must have been stronger than he thought!
"Have you ever been with a woman," Darcy said; rolling her eyes at him.
"I'm not sure I understand. You will have to explain what you mean when you say 'been with a woman'. As far as I can tell, you are a woman and I am with you now," he frowned, "Although, Sten seems to think that you are a man. You may have to speak to him about that."
"Sex, Alistair. Have you ever had sex?" Darcy said exasperatedly, "And what do you mean Sten thinks I'm a man?"
"I asked his opinion about something and your name came up. I referred to you as a woman at which point Sten gasped in horror and stalked off; muttering something about only men are warriors and such things should never be allowed." Alistair shrugged. "As for your other question, the answer is no. I have never had the pleasure." He lingered over the word 'pleasure'; drawing it out and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Darcy chuckled, "It is as I suspected. Perhaps you should take Isabela up on her offer ."
Alistair shook his head, "No, I would prefer to experience it with someone I care about."
"A very romantic notion," Darcy nodded, "but not a very practical one considering that we face annihilation if we fail to kill the Archdemon."
He shrugged, "Perhaps, but, you never know, I might find the love of my life along the way." He looked longingly into her beautiful, grey eyes; willing her to understand the true meaning of his words. "So, have you ever been with a man?"
Darcy willed the smile to stay on her face as she thought of the time she had spent with Rory.
"Yes, I have. Once"
Alistair felt a sudden surge of jealousy for the man, whoever he was. He wondered if it had been someone she cared about and if she still had feelings for him.
"Anyone I might know?" Alistair asked hesitantly; knowing he was playing with fire, but he couldn't help himself.
"No," she replied in a clipped tone.
Alistair would have continued questioning her, but Leliana and Sten burst through the door and walked over to where he and Darcy was sitting. He heard Leliana say "Soooofffftieeeeee" in a sing-song voice and noticed Sten's brooding face. He sighed, knowing that for now their conversation was at an end.
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