Darkness and Despair

"Luke, no!"

Aedan ran forward and tried tear the blade from the tainted man's hand, but he failed and a thin dark line appeared across his son's throat just as an arrow pierced the man's neck causing tainted blood to spray across Luke. It seemed as if the blood hissed and bubbled as it met the line around the boy's neck and Aedan could see the taint working its way beneath the skin. As he had not been able to do in life, he fell upon the tainted man, bearing him away from his son, crashing to the ground with the frail body beneath him. Grabbing the knife from stunned fingers he stabbed it down into the dark leathery skin, puncturing the neck and chest, heedless of the spurting blood. He slashed at the face, back and forth, and struck down, again and again, crying out as he vented his rage. No one stopped him. Philippe did not knock him out or talk him down, no hand lay heavily on his shoulder. He did not stop until the knife fell through the bloody pulp below him and lodged firmly in the floorboards beneath.

The haze cleared with the loss of motion and Aedan looked at the mess of gore that used to be a man. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he looked to the side, seeking a place to spew the rising gorge. His gaze caught another body, a boy, lying in a pool of blood turned black and sticky on the floor. The wound across the throat had turned jagged and terrible and blood congealed about it in clots and smears, no longer moving – the heart had ceased to pump it. With a guttural cry, Aedan crawled towards his son, saw the brown eyes open and staring lifelessly, the mouth slack and skin already pale, cooling before his eyes.

"Luke, no…" he gasped, and then looked up, and swiveled his head back and forth, looking for the other Wardens, for Taren. Where were they? Why was he alone with his dead son?

Cold water splashed across his face and Aedan blinked into wakefulness, all the aches and pains in his body roaring to life. He lay on the floor of the dungeon once more and everything hurt, but nothing equaled the ache in the middle of his face. He could not breathe through his nose and every movement aggravated the broken bone. Water, heavy with the flavour of blood and grime trickled into his mouth and Aedan swallowed convulsively, his body crying out for moisture. He licked at his lips and winced as his tongue touched the split skin.

"If you are awake next time you might get a drink." Bastion cackled and threw the bucket at him. "Here, I am sure you know what this is for."

The bucket hit his shoulder and bounced to the floor. Aedan blinked at the object, seeing the wooden slats bound together by an iron ring, but not really recognizing it for what it was. The door closed, the rectangle of light disappeared and he was alone once more. His dream still fresh in his mind, Aedan mumbled, "Luke."

He had had that dream, and another, the one where Luke did not survive the joining, over and over throughout the last two and a half years. But this time he still felt raw, wakefulness had not banished the full horror of what he had done to the tainted man, or the loss of his boy.

Aedan attempted to sit up and groaned as the action moved his broken ribs. He gasped through the pain, breathing shallowly through his mouth and then shuffled forward in the darkness, his hands waving about as he searched for the bucket. He located it finally and tried to lift it over his face, seeking any last drops of moisture that might be clinging to the inside. Water trickled over his tongue, not much, and Aedan licked at the rim of the bucket, seeking every last drop. The bucket slipped and caught his bruised cheek and Aedan quickly flung it from his face before it could touch his nose.

Then he gingerly felt his face. Touching his cheeks first with both hands, his fingers crept forward until he encountered his nose. He hissed and would have gritted his teeth if he could have, but the action would only have aggravated his face at the moment. Oddly, and he had experienced this before, his nose didn't feel as bad to his fingers as it did upon his face. The swelling was minor and a casual inspection revealed that the bone had probably been nudged apart rather than smashed. Bastion had delivered a precise and practiced blow. Whether the man had done it this way out of kindness or professional pride mattered little. But Aedan took a small amount of comfort from the fact that once the swelling receded fully, he would be able to breathe.

He remembered that Leliana had been with him. "Leli," he said softly, knowing she was gone. He imagined he could still feel the warmth of against his side and he pressed his hand gently over his ribs, trying to recapture her presence. He hoped she was safe, he hoped she would find a way out.

His body was so dehydrated he doubted he would need the bucket, but he crawled awkwardly around until he found it anyway and then set it beside himself. He couldn't say why he needed it close, perhaps just the idea of having something to hold comforted. Maybe he could use it as a weapon? It felt sturdy and heavy in his hands.

Aedan hovered on the edge of sleep when the door opened again. Flinging open his eyes he sat up and tried to appear alert, hopeful another bucket of water might appear. Instead Bastion greeted him with a cheerful, "Hallo, Sunshine!" and sidled along the wall towards the coiled chains. He fiddled with the device.

Not being able to help the shudder that passed through him in anticipation of more broken bones, Aedan instinctively leaned forward and braced against the expected pull. It would do no good. He had no idea how long he had been in here, but the light-headedness he felt could not be attributed simply to pain. Hunger, dull but still there, gnawed at him and thirst tugged. Despite his sleep, fatigue weighed upon him. To his surprise, Bastion walked past the winch and to the rings on the wall. Aedan craned his neck over his shoulder and watched as Bastion began to pull the chains backwards. Did he mean to free him?

Hope rose inside his chest and Aedan leaned on the upturned bucket and gathered his legs beneath him, preparing to stand.

"Do you still have some fight left, my friend?"

Aedan did not bother to answer; he just concentrated on standing, a delicate exercise with his feet still in the cuffs. He pulled the bucked up with him, cradling it his hands. Bastion had freed the chains from the rings and he began feed them through the opposite side, muttering under his breath. What was he doing? Aedan could not figure it out. Why were the chains being rearranged? He shuffled forward and Bastion turned and eyed him a moment before returning his attention to his task.

"What are you doing?" Aedan asked, surprised by the sound of his voice. It hurt to talk. His breath rasped against his dry throat and moving his mouth sent twinges of pain through his nose.

"I am turning you around!" Bastion announced before resuming his task.

Aedan growled low in his throat as his old friends, fury and rage, stirred. He could not, would not, submit without a fight. Tightening his hold on the bucket, Aedan swung it out and threw it at Bastion. The bucket collided with the jailor's head, distracting him long enough for Aedan to throw himself forward as well. Lifting his arms, and turning his shoulder, Aedan rammed his jailor with his good side, the side without broken ribs. The impact jarred and his body cried out, the bruises the cuts, the broken ribs, even his nose protested the movement. Bastion hit the wall. Aedan cracked his elbow back across the jailor's face and then with a grunt, a low, guttural roar, he pulled the chain from the floor and flicked it as hard as he could in the direction of the other man. The links trailed sluggishly across the ground at first and then the momentum caught them and the chain whipped up and across, catching Bastion over the shoulder and ear. Aedan was rewarded with a cry of surprise, but he didn't stop his assault. He knew if he did not best this man, he would pay dearly for the effort.

Risking his ribs and nose, Aedan ducked his head and rammed Bastion again, attempting to throw him once more against the wall, counting on the solid surface to have more impact than his weakened body. He could barely walk, he could not run, he had to stay close and use the weight of his entire body. He dragged against the weight of the chains, trying to pull them forward to use as a weapon again.

The jailor had recovered from his surprise, however, and fought back. A balled up fist drove into Aedan's gut, missing his ribs, but knocking the air from his lungs. Aedan drew back his hand and drove his fist forward, between Bastion's legs. He winced as his bare knuckles connected only with stiff, hardened leather.

Bastion uttered a harsh laugh. "You think you are the first to try that, Sunshine?"

The jailor shoved his shoulder back and then a knee connected with his groin and Aedan cried out as he jolted forward in a protective gesture. The black spots returned, clouding his vision, darkening the dim room even further. If he had anything in his stomach that could have roiled or risen, it would have, but he was empty.

"That is how it is done." Bastion taunted.

An elbow struck between Aedan's shoulder blades and he shoved himself into the other man, trying to direct all of his pain into his rage. He would lose this fight, he knew it now, but he could not pull himself back, could not admit defeat. He hit Bastion with his shoulder and his head and pushed with all his strength, determined to knock the man from his feet. His body screamed at him, all his wounds combining into a single hurt that he focused and pointed at his foe. He swung with his fists, he pulled at the chains, he attempted to shuffle and hop forward with his feet.

Bastion simply jumped backwards and without the other man's body to support him, Aedan fell. He tried to grab at the jailor, partly as reflexive gesture and partly in vain attempt to take Bastion to the floor with him. His hand grappled with the man's shirt, but he couldn't make his fingers close. His head connected with the bucket and light flared before his vision narrowed further. He hit the floor, stunned.

As Aedan tried to reconnect with his body, a clanking sounded in the background, and then he started to move across the floor. Bastion had started raising him up the wall again. Aedan bucked and tried to roll over, but nothing worked properly, his thoughts collided and ran apart, he felt senseless. The fury and rage took over and he yelled and cursed and bucked against the floor as he slid along it and into and up the wall. Time warped and Aedan knew he was dangerously close to a berserk fit.

"Philippe," he whispered, "Help me!" Where was his rock, his backbone?

He returned when the whip licked across his back. The brutally sharp sting brought him instantly back from the edge with a garbled yell. This was a pain he'd never experienced. He'd broken bones before and he'd received wounds from various weapons, crushing bruises, nicks and cuts. This was different. The pain radiated across his skin like fire without touching the bones or organs beneath. He could feel his flesh parting. The time it took Bastion to swing the whip seemed to drag out into long minutes as his whole body tensed and waited for it to strike again, and the sound, Maker, the sound. He would hear it in his nightmares forever.

The rage tried to build within him again, the fury burned and his head throbbed with it until he was tempted to whack his skull against the wall, but he ground his teeth together and endured the punishment until it was done, knowing he'd only damage himself further. Aedan had just reached the limit of what he could endure, the very edge of his control again, when Bastion finally dropped the cruel instrument and moved to the chains once more.

Aedan hit the ground with a thud and yelled aloud as he instinctively curled into himself, stretching the tortured skin of his back.

Bastion left silently, no taunts, no chuckles. He simply closed the door, cutting off all light once more.

Aedan could not clear his mind enough to think at first. He merely lay in a red haze, his breathing panted and shallow, interrupted by hisses as shivers traveled through him. His first thought when his mind was able, was of Leliana. This had happened to her. She had described it to him and he'd thought he understood. Now he knew. Next he tried to figure out what it meant. Why had he been whipped instead of subjected to more broken bones? He couldn't make sense of it, pain or no, and he realised that he likely never would. They had been captured by a mad woman. He could only hope his punishment meant Leliana had fought back.

The oblivion he craved refused to claim him. He hurt too much. The slightest movement hurt his back, his head, his nose, his… Aedan stopped cataloguing his injuries. He had lost count. He tried praying and it helped for a while. When he lost track of the words he let his mind range where it wanted to. He thought about Luke and his heart swelled with pride at the image his mind conjured for him of the young man, the boy he loved as a son, dressed in his armour and facing him across the yard, swords raised and a grin on his face. Alistair popped into his head next. His brother. He saw Alistair on his wedding day as they had talked of love and marriage as a gift from the Maker. He well remembered the look of wonder on his friend's face, the light of true happiness in his hazel eyes.

Fergus sailed into his mind. Not as a man, but as a boy, his older brother. Fergus had taught him how to use a shield. Aedan had never been that adept at it, preferring the feel of a hilt in both hands. But Fergus had always been a patient and good brother, had always looked out for him. His parents visited and Aedan's breath caught. It had been nearly six years since he had lost them. Pain edged through his thoughts and Aedan pushed his parent's faces away and reached for Leliana instead.

He pictured her with Grace in her lap, the pair of them facing the mirror set at Leliana's dressing table. Leliana tied ribbons in Grace's hair as the little girl made faces in the mirror, causing his wife to laugh. Grace's high giggles soon followed and Leliana had wrapped her arms about the girl and kissed her daughter's blonde curls.

Finally, Aedan called to mind Rory, his son, his blood. What he felt for Rory couldn't be described in words. To look at that serious little face and see himself but for Leliana's eyes often took his breath away. He called all of his children gifts, but Rory had always truly felt like one. Remorse rose inside him as he remembered how often he had been away and how much he had missed. That his son might grow up without him, either because he died here, or continued to spend his life underground there, filled Aedan with a despair so profound that for a moment he felt none of his injuries, only a fist closing about his heart.

He fell asleep imagining he had his boy wrapped in his arms and Rory joined him in his dreams.

Aedan had gone to Denerim for Rory's third birthday. Leliana and Brenna had organized a party in the garden at the palace hoping the weather would hold, and it had. The day had been cool, but clear, and warmth still radiated from the late fall sunshine.

Alistair gave the children piggyback rides, as he always did on special occasions, and Brenna and Leliana played their harps together, Brenna keeping time with the more simple notes as Leliana's tune wove in and out, the highlights and lowlights, her harp singing like a voice. Teagan danced with Grace, the tall Arl bending down to take the little hands, his face gentle and kind.

Wulff reclined against a tree, napping on and off, his face lined with the grief of losing his wife. But he had been there, not in his rooms, and when the children climbed into his lap he had smiled warmly at them and hugged them each in turn.

Oghren had been Rory and Grace's next target and he good naturedly let them both inspect his braided beard as usual, even producing coins he'd hidden in twists of hair for their amusement. Little Aedan toddled about on impossibly swift legs as Felsi gave chase. Philippe and Luke played with a kite, trying unsuccessfully to launch it into the clear blue sky while bemoaning the lack of wind.

Aedan had played with and visited with everyone at the party, but in his dream he sat in the middle of the picnic rug and simply watched as everything went on around him. He turned his head this way and that and his face relaxed into an easy smile as he watched the people he loved enjoy themselves. He felt their happiness and joy and it slipped inside him and eased the curious clenching about his heart. He breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of the grass, the women's mingled perfume, the flowers and trees, the lingering aroma of the picnic food, the slowly warming wine. Closing his eyes, he raised his face towards the sky and felt the warmth of the sun on his skin.

A hand tugged at his and he looked over to see Rory standing before him, his cerulean blue eyes sparkling with excitement. "Daddy, we have to get the cake now!"

Aedan gathered his son into his arms and hugged him tightly, even against the squirms and protests. He kissed his cheeks and forehead. Finally Rory insisted they go get the cake together and Aedan let him go and struggled to his feet. He felt dizzy, weak, and thought he might have stood up too quickly. No one at the party seemed to notice anything wrong, they continued making merry around him.

Rory took his hand once more. "Come, Daddy!" He led him off the blanket and out of the circle of family.

Aedan couldn't move his legs, his feet seemed joined together. Rory tugged and he thought he might fall, and then he took a step and it worked and he found himself able to walk and follow his son. The little boy led him across the lawn towards the hedge maze. Aedan frowned.

"Rory, the kitchen is the other way."

"The cake is in here," Rory insisted and tugged him towards the entrance.

Aedan followed his son into the maze, a bemused expression on his face. They walked quietly and without words and as they made their way deeper into the maze the hedges seemed to grow taller, blocking the light and the warmth of the sun. A shiver traveled lightly across his shoulders and it seemed as if it pulled painfully at the skin on his back. Aedan hissed and stopped to find out why and Rory pulled him forward.

"We're nearly there, Daddy. He's waiting."

He? "The cake is a he?"

They reached the centre of the maze and another boy stood there waiting for him. Aedan gasped as he saw his face again, only this time without his wife's eyes. His own cool blue gaze looked out from under dark brows. Rory skipped forward to stand at the boy's side and Aedan glanced from one to the other, taking in the similarities and differences. They were both him, and yet they both were not. They were his sons. They were brothers, both with dark hair and blue eyes.

Rory said, "I brought him, Cian."

Cian smiled at his brother and then looked up. "Hello Aedan."

"Will you help him now?" Rory asked.

Help him? Why did he need help?

Cian nodded. "Of course I will, Rory, he's my father too."

Rory looked perplexed for a moment and then simply shrugged. He looked up and Aedan shook his head as he continued to gaze from one boy to the other, his thoughts beginning to muddy. A flare of pain licked across his back again and he winced and tried to turn his head, to see what stood behind him. A dull throb reached down the centre of his face and his breath hissed softly. Both of his hands were captured then and he looked down to see each held by a different boy.

"Why do I need help?" he asked.

"I will tell mother to come find you," Cian answered.

Aedan looked about the centre of the maze and then cast his eyes upward over the tops of the hedges. He saw the familiar walls and windows that overlooked the palace garden. "I am not lost."

Cian shook his head sadly. "But you are, Aedan. Do not worry, Rory and I will stay with you."