I own nothing save for Adela. Bioware has my eternal gratitude for creating this world and letting me play in their sandbox.
I'm still not going canon with the game or the books - just some twists to make things fit to my story.
As always, thank you all for the reviews: mutive, Biff McLaughlin, Arsinoe de Blassenville, Windchime68, zevgirl, mutive, celtic-twinkie. And thanks to everyone who has been alerting and favoriting this as well. You have no idea how much this means! Reviews & even concrit are welcome (well, kinda. Okay, okay…marginally welcome).
DragonAge: Origins: The Halla Reborn
Chapter 21
The next few days passed without incidence. Wynne and Morrigan continued to tend to Lady Isolde, whose wounds were healing. Although nothing could be done about the missing eye, Wynne was able to smooth out many of the scars the abomination had scored across her smooth flesh. Because of the extent of the damage, however, Morrigan had been keeping the Arlessa in a relative stupor, allowing her to emerge just long enough to get sustenance into her and see to her other anatomical needs, but never fully aware so that she was not conscious of the extent of damage done to her fine face.
The rest of the party assisted in clearing the castle of bodies, removing any signs of the corruption, as well as help with the village. The work was tedious, time consuming and exhausting…something they all welcomed with fervor.
Bann Teagan had tried several times, unsuccessfully, to take Alistair aside and discuss the events at the castle with him. For his part, the young Warden had made a studious effort to avoid speaking with the Bann, concerned that he had disappointed his adoptive uncle greatly. Teagan, although trying to maintain an air of patience, was quickly running out of his immense supply. Finding Adela speaking with the mayor, the Bann pulled her aside.
"Alistair seems to be making a point of avoiding me," the Bann said as soon as the pair was relatively alone.
Brushing a stray lock from her eyes, the elf nodded, turning her eyes to search out the other Warden's muscular form. He was by the water, assisting Dwyn in rebuilding the docks that led directly to the lakefront. Teagan's eyes followed, a frown deepening upon his face. With a heavy sigh, she turned back to the human.
"He feels responsible for what happened with both Connor and Isolde," the elven Warden explained, crossing her arms across her chest. "I think he's avoiding speaking with you for fear of what you may say."
His eyes widened with concern and surprise. "Why ever would he fear that?" He shook his head, his eyes going back to the young man. "I know what he did to try and prevent any more deaths. By the Maker!" he threw his hands into the air, releasing some of his own frustration and feelings of inadequacy with the gesture. "I was there!"
She nodded, placing a small hand on an arm, lowering it to his side. "I know that; you know as does everyone else within the castle. Alistair, however," she gestured toward her friend. "feels that he let everyone down, and that the Arl will never forgive him for what happened to his son and wife."
"But, what befell the castle had nothing to do with Alistair!"
Again she nodded. "But it was his sword that cut down Connor," she said quietly, her eyes turned back to the Bann. "He had been left in charge, and it had been his decision." She frowned. "In time, he will see what we all see. That the decision he made was the one that had to be made. For now…" she left it hanging.
"For now we just give him time," Teagan completed for her, his eyes once again upon the young man.
They both watched as Alistair's eyes settled upon them. Adela smiled when the young man offered them a nod and then turned back to his work.
She made to turn away, but then reached over and took hold of one of Teagan's hands, giving it a squeeze. "And you, my friend, need to release your own guilt as well." She smiled at him and then turned to walk away, seeking out the old blacksmith. Teagan could only watch her leave, surprise and gratitude upon his face.
DA:O
Work. That was what he needed to do. Hard labor, exhausting himself to the point where he could not think. And so, Alistair drove himself hard, helping in every heavy, menial task that the village and castle had to offer. Whether it was carrying the dead to the pyres, loading lumber onto carts, or rebuilding the docks, Alistair was the first to volunteer.
And every night he had been able to fall into an exhausted sleep, untarnished even by the nightmares that all Grey Wardens suffered during Blights.
He stopped to wipe his brow, turning his head to catch the breeze that came across the water. He spied Adela and Teagan talking, and watched as both sets of eyes turned his way. He offered a slight nod, and then turned back to Dwyn and the dock.
DA:O
Walking the line of sparring men and women, the knight frowned, shaking his head. It was too bad that so many of the castle's guards had been killed. Now, they needed to rebuild the sentry for the castle as well as maintain a trained militia. Given how many that had died during the demon's attacks, Roland was unconvinced that both were possible.
Still, Ser Perth had requested the Highever knight's assistance. Since both men had endured and lived through both of their castles falling to unaccountable evil, they were doubly concerned and hyper aware of the possibility of it happening again.
He looked over to where the Orlesian woman was training archers. He admired her skill and patience; Leliana was a natural instructor, always able to put the men and women at ease with a tiny smile here, a kind word there. He shook his head, again wondering what the lovely Orlesian could possibly have in common with the equally beautiful, but highly taciturn Witch she so actively pursued. To each his - or her - own, he thought, grinning, as he turned back to the sparring pairs.
A small figure entered the courtyard and Roland looked up, smiling at the approach of Adela. The young elf looked tired, but resolute. He knew that she had spent many nights with Alistair, helping to ease the young man's heart with regards to the boy who had turned into an abomination. The knight fought down a pang of jealousy, and paused. Since when had he even the right to such feelings? He watched as Adela passed by, smiling broadly at him, her eyes twinkling. His heart felt lighter. Okay, so, perhaps his feelings for her went beyond mere friendship. But, when did they go beyond that? Beyond the simple flirtation he had indulged in (although the elf herself had never actively participated in)? He watched her mount the steps, pausing to give Ser Perth a word, watching as the older knight offered her a smile and slight bow. She glanced back, her eyes settling upon Roland, her smile for him alone.
Perhaps the elf did not realize the knight's feelings for her. She always seemed oblivious of the attraction he felt for her. She even seemed oblivious to the almost fawning affections of her fellow Warden.
Roland decided that soon he would have to make his feelings, his intentions, known to her.
For now, however, he had troops to train, and guardsmen to assign.
DA:O
Later that day Adela walked through the cool corridors of the castle, stopping before the Arlessa's door. Wynne had explained that she had done all she could with the healing. Apparently, the Arlessa would still retain some scars as the claw that had disfigured her had been poisoned, and were difficult for the skilled healer to counter. That she lived at all was a miracle, or so Wynne had said. Adela, who had a great deal more experience among nobles, wasn't so certain Lady Isolde would feel the same way. Adela had been surprised - pleasantly so - that Morrigan had gone along with trying to heal the Arlessa. Compared to other wounds received by many who defended the village and castle, Isolde's were minor. However, both mages had taken time from when they should have been resting to continue to pour healing magics into her body, trying to repair the damage done to her face.
Bowing her head, giving a sigh, she turned the knob and entered the noblewoman's room.
Lady Isolde lay upon her bed, quilts tucked under her arms, an array of downy pillows framing her form. She stood, evaluating the damage to the woman's features. Her left eye socket was puckered and sunken in, giving her an aged look. Wynne's healing magic had lessened the three deep scars that scored her left cheek, but they still showed white and vivid. Her magic had also managed to plump the flesh beneath the scars. A surge of pity welled in the elf. However much she may not like the woman, Adela could not find it in her heart to feel anything but pity for her. She took a step closer to stand next to her bedside.
The Arlessa appeared to be sleeping. The elf pulled a chair closer and settled down, carefully taking one of the human woman's cold hands and holding it gently. Adela wasn't certain if the woman would appreciate her company, but at the moment Wynne and the others were taking a much needed break. The elf had volunteered to sit vigil over the woman until someone else could do so.
Whispering, "I am very sorry, Lady Isolde," to the sleeping woman, Adela rubbed the soft flesh along the back of her hand, listening to the steady breathing of the sleeping woman.
DA:O
That night found all of the companions seated around the dining table, eating their fill. Bann Teagan sat at the head, but Lady Isolde was absent. They all knew that the woman continued to rest upstairs in a magic induced slumber as both mages continued to send magics into her body in an attempt to speed up the healing process.
As was everyone, the Bann was exhausted from his efforts in stabilizing the village and castle before winter's first snows. But his worry for his brother grew, and so he decided to breach the subject of the Urn with the Wardens and their companions.
Frowning over her fork, Adela asked, "Isn't the Urn just a legend?" Assenting mumbles sounded down the table.
Teagan replied, "True. However, we have a reliable scholar, one Brother Genetivi, who is quite successful in ferreting out legends. Word had reached Isolde that he had actually found where the resting place may well be." He shrugged his shoulders, resting his fork back to his plate. "My suggestion would be to seek clues at his home in Denerim. I believe his assistant may still be found there."
Chewing thoughtfully, the elf swallowed. "So, I gather you want us to seek out the Urn, then?" She turned her blue eyes upon the Bann, watching as he nervously pushed his plate forward and then folded his hands before him.
"I truly believe that if anyone can find the Urn, or Brother Genetivi, it would be you and your friends, my dear lady."
"You do realize that we've a Blight we're trying to defeat?" She raised a brow, watching him closely. The others at the table had ceased eating and were now watching the two. "And, going to Denerim may not be the wisest destination for us at the moment." That last was a statement, thinking of the ambush she and Roland had defeated just days before.
"I do realize this, Adela," Teagan's voice was tired, filled with resignation. "However, you will need Eamon's help against Loghain and his sycophants once you have gathered all of your allies. To win over the nobles and get them to oust Loghain, you will need him."
Letting out a sigh, the elf's eyes wandered down the length of the table, resting briefly upon each of her companions. She did not like delaying collecting on the treaties any longer than necessary. But, Teagan was correct: they could gather all of the allies they wanted; without help from the Throne itself, defeating the Blight would be an ongoing uphill battle, wherein they would not only be fighting against darkspawn, but the troops of the realm itself. Troops that would be better used in battling the Blight.
Well I did tell Alistair leading was never easy, she thought with grim amusement. With a nod, she scooped up food onto her fork, then replied, "Very well, Teagan. We will go to Denerim and then search out this Brother Genetivi." She frowned, bringing the food to her mouth. "We'll rest up for two more days and then leave." With that, she resumed eating her meal, staring at her plate.
Nodding, Teagan resumed his own meal, as did the others at the table.
DA:O
They were told by Teagan and Ser Perth that, because they were leaving soon to begin the quest for the Urn, they would all need to rest and not assist any further in the rebuilding of the village or castle.
Sounded good. Just two days of relaxing, restocking, eating, sleeping…right?
Not really.
Adela found herself bored.
The Sten found solace in attacking the combat dummy or mediating on the Qun. He seemed quite content for the moment, although the elf knew that the giant warrior would not allow for too much down time when there were darkspawn to slaughter.
Morrigan spent her time locked in her room, pouring over the tome Adela had found during their excursion through the Tower of Magi. The witch had excitedly told the elf that this had been a tome of her mother's, one that had been missing for many years, and the one time her secrets had been allowed to get away from her. After thanking Adela profusely (which, surprisingly, included a small, quick hug), Morrigan had locked herself away to study its secrets.
Wynne rested and read, and Leliana found several books with old Orlesian and Fereldan poetry.
Roland spent his time going over his armor and weapons, as did Alistair.
But for Adela, there really wasn't much for her to do. She spent time with Irving and Niall, and watched as Artemis, again, tried to coerce Roland into trying something 'different'. That the human knight was more than unresponsive did not deter the small mage whatsoever.
She also met with Teagan, asking him for an accounting of when he had last seen Loghain. The picture the man painted had not been pleasant, one wherein the Teyrn had threatened, taunted and trampled on the rights of the sovereign lords. He had also told her of the pale, withdrawn woman who had once been the vibrant Anora standing behind the man, allowing him to speak for the realm in her stead. Feeling an ache in her heart, questioning the Bann and listening to his patient answers, Adela could only find that she needed to resign herself to the fact that Loghain had not been the person she, Cailan and Anora had believed him to be. Or rather, that he had changed immeasurably.
And that it was very possible that he, in whatever insanity had its grip upon him, had left his king, the Wardens and countless soldiers to perish on the field at Ostagar.
She thanked Teagan, pressing her hand to his arm, fighting against the tears that she was determined not to shed until she was alone, she turned abruptly and sought out her solace.
Later, her eyes stinging and red, her face feeling as though it burned, she inventoried the entire group's supplies and sent out orders to the blacksmith and grocer. That took the rest of the first day.
That evening, she found herself dwelling back on questions she had about the Grey Wardens, questions that still had not been answered. And so, she decided to search out her favorite - albeit completely incomplete - source of all things Grey Warden.
She located Alistair polishing his armor in his rooms and took a seat next to the young man on his bed.
The young man looked up from his work, an easy grin on his face. He recognized that look on her face. It was one he had learned meant 'I need answers, and guess who's going to give them to me?' He dreaded that look. "What is it, Adela?" he asked, maintaining his grin and setting his armor aside.
She looked up at Alistair, returning his grin. "I have a few questions about being a Grey Warden." Her head tilted to the side. "I know that it's impossible for you to remember everything, so if you could just try and clear up some questions as they spring to my little mind, that would be fine."
Alistair nodded, indicating for her to continue.
"First, what is the Calling?"
An open hand slapped his forehead. "I forgot to mention that, didn't I?" Adela nodded. "The Calling is what occurs at the end of a Warden's thirty years. The nightmares return, apparently worse than they were in the beginning of a Warden's career, and the Warden knows it's his time, that the end is near. Usually, the Warden will go to the deep roads in Orzammar and kill as many darkspawn until killed."
"Why Orzammar?"
Alistair shrugged. "There are always darkspawn in the deep roads." He frowned a bit. "The Warden goes down and kills as many darkspawn as possible. The dwarves respect us for it."
The elf shivered at the thought. "Is that how a Warden is supposed to…die?"
"No," he admitted, "it's mostly tradition."
The elf watched Alistair as he spoke, saw the resigned fear that showed there. "And what about children?"
A very confused look appeared on his face. "Pardon?"
"Children, Alistair. You know, young people."
He turned his head slightly, "I know what children are, Adela. I'm not sure I know what the question is."
She leaned closer to the other Warden, frowning, concern showing so clearly on her face. "Can Wardens have children?"
"What brought this on?" he asked, confused, and not sure he wanted to have this conversation with her.
She sighed, running her hands through her hair as she turned her back to her friend. "I had reason to be concerned that perhaps I was pregnant a while back," Alistair frowned, and then scowled, recalling her telling him of the rape. "But Wynne assured me that I was fine, save that, well, there were signs pointing to that possibility." She relaxed a bit. "Those signs have, fortunately, resolved themselves." She turned back to him. "But, something Wynne said raised questions in my mind and now I find that I need to know: did any of the wardens you knew have families?"
Understanding dawned on him, and he nodded. "There were a few who were married and had children. And, I think some of those had children after joining." A frown marred his face. "But, they were men. I have no idea about female wardens having children." He turned to fully face her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "This is very important to you, isn't it?"
She bowed her head, trying very hard to let go of the fresh wave of anger she was currently feeling toward Duncan. She nodded. "Very much so." She sighed, moving forward and placing her head on Alistair's chest. The young man took advantage of her close proximity and put his arms around her. "All of my life I had wanted children." She chuckled a little against him. He rather liked the feel of it. "I know it may sound silly, especially where we're facing a Blight and I am not even betrothed any longer, but, for a moment, it was like all of the rest of my dreams were about to be tossed away." She looked up. "And I don't really have very many dreams left to hold onto. Giving this one up would have been, well…too much."
A large, calloused hand brushed stray locks of blond from her eyes, and warm, amber eyes gazed into the peerless depths of elven blue. "If I have anything to say about it," he whispered, gazing into her eyes, "you won't have to give up anymore of your dreams."
She smiled, thinking that there was no way he could even contemplate keeping that promise, but that she very much appreciated the sentiment anyway. "I suppose we need to stop the Blight first?" She shook her head, feeling a little foolish. "No sense in getting caught up in dreams while the nightmare still needs to be dealt with."
Her fellow Warden snorted and chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so." His look turned thoughtful. "Speaking of family," a wistful smile crossed his young face, "I'd also like to set up a memorial or something for Duncan," he sighed, "I think he was from Highever." He looked hopefully at the elf in his arms. "Maybe I'll go there after all of this is done and set something up for him."
"I think he would like that," Adela smiled, and then pushed herself away from him. Alistair gave small whine at that. "Maybe I can go with you when you do."
"I think that Duncan would have liked that quite a lot."
"It's too bad that the Warden headquarters is at the palace," the elf said. "I'd really like to get some of the records from there while we were in Denerim."
"What about the safe house?" Alistair asked, recalling Duncan mentioning that in his letter to Adela.
She shrugged. "I planned on our checking it out, but I seriously doubt any records would be kept there. I think the safe house was mostly as a place to restock and hide when necessary."
They sat quietly for a moment, and then, Adela nodded her head, she clapped her hands together once, feeling much better than she had earlier. "Good. It's settled. So, for now, we'll just go ahead and find the lost Urn of Sacred Ashes, get these silly treaties acknowledged, kill the Archdemon and then set up a memorial." She grinned up into his face. "Now, what else is there for us to do?"
Chuckling, Alistair nudged her with his shoulder. "Let's get some sleep and see what the morning brings, eh?"
DA:O
While wandering the castle Adela happened upon the scaled model of Castle Redcliffe her father had created years ago, the very artwork that had graduated Adela from apprentice to artist. The sculpture - created from wood, ivory, stone and metal - lay sprawled along the vast mantle of the fireplace in the great hall where they had earlier battled against a possessed Teagan and the undead guards. She stood staring at it, and when Teagan found her admiring it, he began to tell her of its creation and how it had been a naming day gift to Eamon from the king and queen. Grinning broadly, Adela then advised the Bann that it had been crafted by her father and herself, and she explained how it had been crafted using an artist's rendering of the castle. Dumbfounded, the Bann stammered an apology, unaware that the artist herself stood beside him. With a gentle shake of her head, she told him there was no need for an apology, and she should have stopped him then moment he began to speak. Her only excuse for not doing so: she enjoyed listening to others talk of her work, and was always amazed at how others may view the creations of her father and herself. She expressed gratitude that it had been given such a prominent place in the castle.
And so, inspired, she settled down with wood in hand, examining it, seeking the form buried within the wood. She looked up, frowning. She wanted to create something for Isolde, but carving it from wood was not the medium it should be in. Deciding to put that idea aside, she turned back to the wood, and began carving off the pieces that did not belong.
She hoped Roland would like it.
DA:O
The next day dawned cool with a light breeze, the sun shining and barely a cloud in the sky. The group left early after a light breakfast with the Bann. Wynne was remaining behind, as the Arlessa still needed healing, and the elder mage did not feel it safe just yet to leave her. So, it was decided that Niall, a competent healer in his own right, would accompany the group in her stead. The mage was nervous, but excited about the possibility of visiting Denerim, a city he recalled vaguely from his childhood before being taken away by the Templars for the Tower. After their farewells to Wynne, Irving, Teagan and Artemis (who was not happy about being left behind), the group left the castle to head to Denerim.
Niall walked beside Adela for much of the morning, still trying to convince the reluctant elf of his idea of sending her into the Fade. Adela would only shake her head, telling him that if she ever decided to give that particular experiment a try, it would be well after the Blight was ended. The mage frowned, trying to look pitiful. Adela only laughed, telling him that the puppy dog eyes don't even work on her when Hafter tries them. Niall glanced over at the dog, which was at that moment chasing after squirrels and promptly gave up.
Her eyes wandered back, taking in her companions who followed. As always, the Sten marched at the rear, confident that his blade could cut down any ambushing foe with ease. Adela found that she shared that confidence.
Leliana walked slightly in front of the massive warrior, her bow slung with ease over one delicate shoulder, her face withdrawn, her eyes glancing every now and again toward the dark and brooding figure of Morrigan, who marched ahead of her with purposeful strides, completely and obviously ignoring the doe eyed glances of the Orlesian. Adela felt a bit of pity for the Orlesian; Morrigan had steadfastly rebuked every advance the red head had made, and had not always done so nicely.
Roland and Alistair walked just behind the elf and mage, talking with ease to one another. Most likely discussing weapons and armor, the elf grinned to herself, turning her attention back forwards.
Niall was a pleasant traveling companion. He was quiet, thoughtful and she found herself smiling often as he stared at the wide world they now travel along. Ever since her first visit to the tower, the elf had felt pity and sympathy for the mages imprisoned therein. Never to be treated as people, never allowed any semblance of freedom. In her mind, the Tower, despite the luxuries it may present on the surface, was a far worse place to live than any Alienage she had ever heard of.
So, while Niall gazed about, gathering elf roots and death root along their path, the conversation of the two men behind her a background buzz, Adela allowed herself to think back to the conversation she and Teagan had regarding Loghain. The pain was still there; the pain that someone she had known for more than half of her life, who had always treated her as an equal, who would admonish her for ever considering herself 'just an elf', had betrayed all that he had fought for. Perhaps it was time to let go of my childhood infatuation, she thought glumly, looking up into the sky. I just wish it could have been a far easier release. She frowned, knowing full well that regardless of what may have happened, she would always respect Loghain, and despite what he may have done now, he would always be a hero to her.
She heard Alistair laugh aloud at something Roland had said, and found herself smiling, glancing back as the Warden clapped a hand upon the other warrior's shoulder. Roland was grinning, wiping a gauntleted hand across his eyes, swiping away a tear of laughter. Her eyes settled upon Alistair's smiling face and, seeing her look, the blond man's smile widened, revealing perfect white teeth. The elf's smile widened and Roland turned to her, offering a mischievous wink.
With a shake of her head, the elf continued to lead the group westward, toward Denerim.
DA:O
Dark eyes watched as the group passed by, narrowing slightly with disdain. They then settled upon the smiling face of the red haired man, joking with the other human man, flirting with the elf. Blinking slowly, the figure moved silently between the trees and through the underbrush, shadowing the group's progress westward.
DA:O
Darkness fell quickly, and the group had to gather wood and light a fire before they were able to do anything else for preparing camp. The cool breeze that had been pleasant during their walk turned bitter. The campfire added light and warmth to the area.
Hafter had gone hunting, returning to camp three times with barely mangled rabbits in mouth. Giggling, Adela and Leliana sat down and skinned the rabbits while Alistair and Roland took on the extra duties of setting up their tents while the two women cut the meat into pieces, tossing them into a pot of boiling water. Morrigan added herbs and wild vegetables to the soup, making it far more palatable.
After supper was eaten, Adela made the rounds of speaking with each companion, as had become her habit during their journeys.
The Sten had finally deigned to answer her ongoing questioning of why he had killed the members of the farm hold. To the elf, that had seemed almost out of character. He told her of his and his brethren's encounter of darkspawn at Lake Calenhad, and how he had been the only one to survive, thanks to the farmers taking him in. When he had discovered that his sword, Asala, was missing, he panicked, killing every member of the farm hold. With a tilt of her head, the elf remarked that she would never have known the Qunari to panic, and, with obvious shame, the giant proceeded to tell that the sword had been for his hand alone; without it, he could never return home without being mistaken for a traitor. Adela searched the giant's face, noting the rare emotion - shame - that crossed his broad features.
"We'll find it," the elf promised, laying a tiny hand on his massive arm. His lavender eyes fixed on the small appendage.
"Perhaps those are empty words," he replied heavily, his eyes rising to meet hers, "however they are appreciated." He bowed his head. "Thank you, Warden." With those words, he stepped away to meditate.
Morrigan was in no humor to speak that evening, still enthralled with her mother's grimier as well as studiously avoiding the Orlesian.
Leliana, on the other hand, was very much in the mood to speak, apologizing for keeping a secret, and confessing that she was trained as a bard back in Orlais. Adela's blue eyes widened; she recalled her mother telling her of Maric's mistress, an Orlesian bard who ended up betraying them all. Leliana quieted, her head bowed somewhat as the elf studied her, thinking over the many talents the red head had displayed during their time together. Why she hadn't seen it before was beyond her, and she gave a silent apology to her mother.
"Thank you, Leliana," the elf replied quietly. The bard looked up, surprise in her eyes. She knew how well Adela valued honesty. Knew also the elf's predisposition against Orlesians on the whole and, with a mother who had fought against Orlais during the rebellion, how against bards in general she would have been. Adela saw these thoughts flicker in the blue eyes upon her face, and offered up a small smile. "Leli," she said, using the nickname the bard had tried getting her to use before, "we have been traveling together for some time now." Her smile broadened, and Leliana's expression lifted. "We are friends, and I can understand why you may not have said anything before now." She stepped closer, offering a hug to the human woman. "If you ever want to talk about anything," she pushed her arm, keeping her hands on her shoulders. "All you need to do is say something."
The Orlesian took a deep breath and thanked the elf. With a quick kiss to Adela's smooth cheek, the bard bounded off for her tent, wanting to take in some reading before it grew too late.
Niall was exhausted and had retired for the evening. Roland and Alistair were busy sparring. Smiling at the pair, the elf gathered her carving tools and sat upon the ground, her back against a log the Sten had pulled into the camp's center earlier, and began to work the wood into the shape.
DA:O
The next day found the group battling against a large group of darkspawn. The monsters had ambushed a caravan of refugees, who were holding their own against the dark threat, but tiring quickly. Adela and Leliana took stances opposite from each other, raining arrows upon the field, removing many of the darkspawn from the fight.
Morrigan threw her cold spells out, freezing several of the beasts. Then, with a quick word, shape shifted into the form of the great black wolf, rushing at the large bodies of the hurlock that blocked their path. Hafter, having long since gotten used to the human in wolf shape, charged at her side, knocking a group of genlock from their feet.
Niall, his main focus being in healing and creation, kept casting healing and rejuvenating spells upon the warriors, casting glyphs of warding as well as paralysis as needed. Spotting the hurlock emissary further in the back of the darkspawn group, the mage cast a paralysis spell, followed closely by a glyph of repulsion. The ensuing explosion paralyzed several of the hurlock in the emissary's vicinity. The refugees battling in that area were able to quickly dispatch the paralyzed darkspawn.
The Sten's great sword swept out and around, cleaving one genlock in half at the waist as it continued its circuit to decapitate another genlock, and then severely injuring a third.
Alistair's shield met the emissary's face, crushing its nose, its forehead bashing soundly against the hard metal, knocking it to the ground. The Warden swung his blade up and then down, driving it point first into the emissary's chest, killing it as the finely wrought blade punctured its heart. With a deep breath, he turned to engage another nearby foe.
Ducking beneath the sweeping arc of the hurlock's axe, Roland jabbed out with his sword, slipping easily into the ill made armor the beast wore. It growled down at him as he twisted the blade, straightening, and then slamming his shield into its ugly face. It staggered, but did not fall, bringing its weapon to bear against the human. The knight allowed a small, humorless smile upon his lips as he pulled his blade free to quickly jab it once again into the hurlock's body. The growl turned into a scream of pain as the blade found a vital organ. Satisfied, the knight twisted, jabbed in further, jerked the blade to the side, cutting into the organs of the tainted creature. With a gurgle, the darkspawn fell from his blade, dropping gracelessly to the blood soaked ground.
The battle was over in minutes. All of the darkspawn were dead; many of the refugees lay upon the tainted ground never to rise again, but the majority had lived and, in these ill times, that was enough. Refusing a reward, Adela gathered her party, making certain that everyone was still in one piece. Any injuries were tended to by Niall, who had also aided the refugees with healing as well. The leader of the group advised the Wardens that they are heading to Highever, seeking refuge there. Adela told them that they may want to turn around and head to Redcliffe, that ill tidings have come out from Highever, and that the fishing village was in need of residents as well as those willing to fight. She smiled as she indicated that this group definitely proved the latter. The leader thought about it a moment, and decided to take the Warden upon her suggestion. With a final thanks, the refugees repacked their belongings, searched out any wandered off livestock, and then turned their path toward the fishing village of Redcliffe.
Later that evening found the companions camped alongside the road yet again.
And none of them were aware of the pair of dark eyes watching.
DA:O
The next day brought them nearer to Denerim. Adela's feet had a sluggish feel, her legs heavy, her heart sore at the thought of returning to the city. She did not doubt that she and Alistair, along with their rag tag assortment of companions, could blend in well within the city, so full with refugees and foreigners as it was bound to be. Her internal battle was over whether to visit the Alienage. She had fears that, regardless of what the Captain of the Guard may have said when Duncan conscripted her, those dwelling within the contained community may have suffered for her crimes. And so she walked as though weights had been shackled upon her ankles, each step harder to take than the last.
Alistair was not oblivious to the elf's strange behavior. She was always the one to encourage the others to pick up the pace, quicken their steps, maybe even start a tidy little tune to march by (well, that was always Alistair's contribution). So, he moved to her side, trying to get her to speak. But, whatever was weighing her down also seemed to have sewn her mouth shut. So, he countered in the only way he could: he kept talking.
"So," he had been rambling on for many minutes, watching the elven woman from the corner of his eye, "you know how Arl Eamon raised me, right?"
That got a reaction: the elf actually scoffed at the 'raised me' part. He flinched a little, knowing well just what Adela thought of Art Eamon's child rearing techniques. He plunged on.
"Well, anyway, my mother was a servant, and she apparently had a daughter from a prior relationship," Adela looked up at the taller human, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "Her name is Goldanna," the other warden continued, glad to at least get her attention. "Ah, here daughter, that is. And she lives in Denerim. In the market district I believe."
She turned, "Goldanna is your sister?" her voice was calm.
He nodded. "You know of her?"
"Yes," she admitted, not certain what to say. She knew Goldanna. Goldanna worked days as a laundress and had a sharp tongue and little to no love for elves of any sort. She also had a great many children, but no husband. She had heard rumors about the woman, but had never truly paid any attention. Both Adela and Cyrion had made a conscious decision to not share any of their gold with the taciturn woman. And, because of their varied circles of friends, had seen that others did not visit upon the woman - in whatever capacity her services may range.
But, here was Alistair, her friend, wanting to see the only living blood relative he had left. Perhaps Goldanna would prove to be more accepting…
"Alistair," her voice was very soft. "Do you want to visit her when we reach the city?"
Nodding enthusiastically, Alistair asked, "Can we?" There was such a hopeful, childlike tremor in his voice.
Adela smiled, her steps seeming less weighted. "Of course, Alistair," she tilted her head so that she could look into his face better. "For something this important, we can certainly make the time."
Relief flooding through him, Alistair did the only thing that seemed natural at the moment: he gave a whoop, pulled the elf into his arms, and gave her a sound kiss on her surprised mouth.
The elven warden's cheeks flushed bright pink and Alistair, realizing what he had just done, had the sense to blush his own crimson. Wynne and Leliana found it amusing, while Morrigan merely scoffed with disgust. The Sten kept his own opinion to himself, and Niall, for some reason, looked embarrassed. Roland, however, graced the male warden with a glare as he strode over and gently pulled Adela from his arms, pulling her along. Alistair watched as the knight bent down to whisper something to the elf and the others walked by.
Feeling a bit silly for acting so impulsively, the young warden followed closely behind.
DA:O
Entering the city was no trouble. No one gave even the armed elf a second glance, something that surprised them all. Roland bent forward slightly, offering that perhaps the influx of refugees also brought in mercenaries, many of which could very well be elven. Adela nodded; that theory made the most sense and would work well in their favor. If mercenaries had infiltrated the city, then their rather odd group would do well to blend in even better than initially anticipated.
They made their way westerly, through the winding streets of the capital of Fereldan. Adela noticed that the streets seemed busier than she recalled, with many carts and wagons lining along the wide streets. With a start, she realized that many of those wagons were filled with families who apparently were living out of them. The streets were dirtier, more crowded, with more trash strewn about. Certainly not Fereldan's Capitol as she remembered.
Much of her distress was displayed openly upon her face and Roland, who had been walking beside her for some time, put an arm across her shoulders, pulling her close and offering words of encouragement. The knight, who had also frequented the city with the Teyrn and his family on numerous occasions, felt the general wrongness of the city that was known as the Jewel of Fereldan.
The further into the city, the closer to the market place, the more of a sense of that wrongness assailed not just the elf who had lived there or the knight who was most familiar with the place, but the others as well. Faces they passed by were blank slates, or fearful masks. Even children could sense it and so there were few running and playing in the streets, little cries of joy or screaming in play. The closer to the market place they came, the more oppressed the atmosphere. Adela had to fight the urge to just turn around and run away. Run as far as she could from the city of her birth, the city wherein dwelt her people, the city where almost everyone she had ever cared for lived (or so was her hope). Run? She shook herself mentally, setting that ridiculous notion aside. The only time in her life Adela had ever felt she had run away from anything was when Duncan had conscripted her into the Wardens. She took another look around. These people needed hope, and as far as Adela was concerned, that only hope was in the form of the two Wardens who walked the streets. Well, she amended looking over her rather odd assortment of friends, the two wardens and their merry band of misfits.
During her musings and courage gathering, Roland had slid up to her side, walking quietly beside her, watching as the array of emotions and thoughts crossed her face. When she finally noticed his presence, she looked up, giving him a half-hearted smile.
"Are you alright?" the knight asked, concern etched upon his handsome face.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I'm just trying to fight the 'fight or flee' urge that suddenly overwhelmed me," she grinned up into his face.
"Oh?" he asked, a fine red brow rising in a good imitation of her own familiar gesture. "And are you winning?"
Chuckling, she bumped into him with her shoulder, which only came to about his elbow. The knight was chivalrous enough to at least pretend at a stumble. "I think that I'll be fine," her eyes were wandering again, taking not of the street that would lead them to the market district. "Perhaps if I could get word of the Alienage, that may help ease my concerns."
And so, to distract her from her concerns and growing worries, the knight started to tell the elven woman about the times he had visited Denerim.
He had spent a lot of his time at the Cousland estate located in the noble district, and then the palace guarding the family during official business. He spoke of his duties, and then segwayed into how he spent his times off duty with his fellow soldiers and knights.
"The Gnawed Noble's Tavern is a popular spot," he was saying in a rather off handed fashion. "They brag of having seventy-five different ales, even from Orzammar." He was grinning with fond memories, his eyes slightly distant. "I remember one night a bunch of us deciding to try each and every ale before we left Denerim for our perspective duties."
Frowning slightly, Adela said, "Oh, so just one of the boys, eh?"
Roland didn't quite catch the slightly disapproving tone in the young woman's voice. "For some of the best liquors, however, nothing beats the Pearl."
Here Adela's brows shot up to almost disappear into her hairline. "The Pearl?" She stopped, hands on her hips, staring at the knight. Alistair, who had been listening, tried hard to hide a smile at the expense of his rival. Roland, finally realizing what he had said and to whom he had said it, had the grace to flush slightly before stammering. "I-I only visited the tavern there," he did not want Adela to think of him as some kind of wenching human or that he frequented such establishments.
"Ah, ha," came her disbelieving comment. She glanced at Alistair, taking note of his struggles with his own face. With a shake of her head, she resumed leading their group to the market place. "Roland, what you do or have done is truly none of my business," Roland actually flinched at the biting tone her voice had. "However," she tilted her head toward him a bit. "I would certainly prefer not hearing about it."
Dipping his head slightly, the knight resumed his pace beside the elf, trying to salvage the conversation by telling her of the gardens at the Cousland estate. Alistair, who finally allowed the huge smile to find its place firmly on his face, marched a bit straighter than he had been previously.
The street leading into the market place narrowed slightly, and then turned a corner, opening wide to the square like center that was the Market District. Small homes lined the perimeter of the open courtyard that housed dozens of tents, awnings, carts and tables lined with items as varied as fruits and vegetables and other foodstuffs, to armor and weapons, jewelry and other trinkets.
The chantry over looked the entire area and, as always, a pair of priests stood just beyond the stone entryway, reciting the Chant of Light.
Hawkers shouted their wares; children ran about and around the feet of their mothers as they haggled and paid for their purchases. The combined odors of food, sweets, oils, leather and spices assailed their senses. Adela stopped, closing her eyes, inhaling the aromas. The sounds, sights and smells - all of these bespoke 'home' to the little elf.
She did not see the admiring smiles from both the knight and Warden. Nor the glares that each gave one another.
The elf opened her eyes, leading the group further into the district. Leliana instantly started her animated chatter, wanting to visit the stalls. Morrigan had stopped, staring about herself in wonder, her eyes settling upon the awning covered jewelry cart. Beside that cart was a stall filled with fine silks and other colorful materials. Both women, with a glance to one another, started heading to those stalls. Adela had to call them back, reminding them of the real reason they were in Denerim. Both women - no, really girls - started bemoaning the pretty cloth and jewels, and couldn't they just go and see? Did Adela really need all of them to meet with a stodgy old scholar anyway? It was the pair of them batting their eyelashes at the diminutive elf that finally made her just wave her hand at them, sending them away. They even giggled! Morrigan giggled!
The baker's cart caught the Sten's attention and the giant made a beeline toward the sweets, Hafter, who had taken a liking to the giant, close at his heels. Adela rolled her eyes when Niall of all people went and joined the massive warrior, eying the tasty treats out on display.
Well, she thought as she passed by her shopping friends, at least Alistair and Roland didn't abandon me.
Adela was too busy watching the four shoppers, smiling, that she did not notice when they approached Goldanna's home, situated along the market itself. Alistair's voice broke her reverie.
"That…that's it," he breathed, moving closer to the elf, nodding his head toward a small house. "I think that's the address." He glanced down at Adela, who had turned and was nodding her head in affirmation. "Can we…can we go in?" he seemed so childlike at that moment; Adela hoped Goldanna would not hurt him.
"Are you certain you want me to go in with you?" she asked, eyeballing the wooden door.
Confused, Alistair looked down at his friend. "Of course! Do you really think I could do something like this without you by my side?" He chuckled nervously. "I'd probably say something really stupid and then where we would be?"
"Alistair, you would never say anything so stupid that your sister would disown you," she said, although she wasn't certain how convincing she sounded.
"Pleeeeaassse?" He even clasped his hands in front of him, his eyes assuming such a pitiful puppy dog look. Roland merely rolled his eyes.
Biting her lower lip, certain that this was not going to end well, the elf relented. Roland offered to wait outside and so the pair entered the tiny home.
The entry was neat and tidy, and there was a strong smell of clean about the place. A feminine voice called from the back room, asking them to wait a moment. The pair glanced at one another, and a woman of perhaps thirty odd years approached, not fully focusing on the duo.
"I charge ten bits a bundle," she was saying, her obvious lack of education clearly apparent in her voice, "And don't go to that Natalya woman, she's foreign and will steal ya blind."
Her brown eyes focused on the pair, quickly dismissing Adela and turning to focus upon the handsome young man before her. The smile broadened a great deal, her hip jutted out and a slim hand perched thereon.
"Ahm," Alistair stammered, trying to gather his thoughts. Adela placed a small hand inside one of his larger ones. He glanced down briefly and then smiled. "I'm sorry," he turned back to his sister. "I'm not here for laundry, I'm…well, are you Goldanna?" The woman's eyebrow flinched up in irritation. "Sorry, yes, of course you are. Well, since you're Goldanna then that makes me, well, your brother," his voice cracked here a bit as a look of incredulity crossed the older woman's face. He cleared his throat. "I'm your brother," he said with far more confidence.
"My brother?" the woman's voice was soft, amazed. Her face and expression quickly hardened, her eyes taking on a calculating quality. "Fat lot of good that does me!" she scoffed, tossing her hands toward the stunned young man. "I told them that the babe was the king's, and all they told me was that mother and the babe was dead! Dead!" she nearly screeched. "Gave me a coin and a pat on my head, telling me to be on my way. Well," she stepped forward, a bony finger in Alistair's chest, who backed up against the door, his hand now clutching at Adela's. "That coin didn't last long, and when I went back for more they runned me off. Bah!" she scoffed again, scorn filling her voice.
"Goldanna," Adela spoke up, her voice calm and soothing, "Alistair came here to find his family…"
"Phwt!" the human woman spat. "And who are you?" she demanded, taking a menacing step to the smaller elf, "Some knife-eared tart out for his money?"
Money? Before Adela could respond, Alistair straightened, his amber eyes taking on a hard look, "Don't you dare talk to her that way!" he took a step forward, Goldanna retreated. "She's my friend, and a Grey Warden, like I am!"
"Ooohhh…." the woman taunted, "Fancy that, a Prince and a Grey Warden too. Well, who am I to speak to those so much more worthy than I!" her voice was venom. "I don't know you, boy. All I know is that you killed mother, and left me with five hungry mouths to feed! If you can't see to it that your family lives as they should, then I have less than no use for you!"
Alistair was taken aback. His good heart wanted to make certain that his family was, indeed, taken care of. But any funds they did have were used to feed, armor and resupply the group as they continued on their quest to stop the Blight. He glanced down at the elf, who was staring at the human woman with an almost unreadable expression.
"Adela…" he began, but she shook her head, still staring at the human woman.
"No, Alistair," she said firmly, "we have worked hard for whatever coin we have, and we need it far more than this wench does!"
The woman's eyes narrowed, and she screeched at them to leave her home. With a final glare at the other woman, Adela turned Alistair around and pushed him out the door, slamming it forcefully behind her.
And she steered him well away from the other companions, around the corner, and against a wall. Her hands on his chest, Adela could feel the tension leave the young man. She looked up into his face and saw utter disappointment there.
"I'm sorry, Alistair," she said softly, a hand reaching up to stroke his cheek. He bowed his head slightly.
"I cannot believe that I've wondered my whole life about that…that gold digging harridan!" he wanted to shout, but didn't. A hand rose up to cover Adela's much smaller one. "Thank you," he whispered, bringing her hand down and giving it a kiss. "I needed you there."
The elf nodded, stepping forward to give him a hug. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "But, you know," she looked him in the eye, a smile curving her lips. "You don't need that hussy. You have plenty of people who care about you."
"Yeah, right," he mumbled, "Duncan was the only person who did, and he's dead."
Her brow rose and she gave him a slight push. "Hey! What am I?" she teased smiling. "I care about you too, you know."
Now it was Alistair biting his lower lip. "Hey, yeah," he quipped, pulling her close into another hug, kissing the top of her head. "You do, don't you?"
She nodded, pulling away. "Come on," she pulled at his hand, "we've a scholar to see, some more shopping to do. And," she grinned. "a Warden safe house to explore."