Sierra slept, and slept, and slept some more. There were no dreams, no nightmares. Nothing.
Occasionally, she caught snippets of conversation from her companions. Rarely did she hear enough for it to make sense. Every time she moved, rolled over, or twitched, the voices would immediately hush. Right before she drifted off again, she would hear the murmurs of resumed discussion.
She had no idea how much time went by.
Some time later, she opened her eyes finally. She was greeted with more darkness. Well, partial darkness. She blinked slowly, watching the fire's light dance across the walls.
"Awake, I see," came Morrigan's voice quietly.
Sierra turned to see the witch sitting near the fire, stirring a pot that dangled over the flames. The elf was laying in a makeshift bed of furs along the opposite wall. "How long have I been asleep?" she croaked, her voice rusty from lack of use.
"A few days," Morrigan answered noncommittally. "Are you hungry?"
The Grey Warden shook her head. Strangely, she wasn't. "Where's Leliana?"
Morrigan gestured to the adjoining room. "Using my bed, and making a mess of it, I might add. We have been taking turns. She did not think it wise if you were to wake and think you were alone."
Cocking her head, the elf could hear the sound of gentle snores coming from the darkened room. Sierra's lips curled in a smile.
"It is quite early in the morning," the apostate said, changing the subject. "Do you perhaps think you could fall back to sleep until sunrise? You're more than welcome to get up now, if you wish, of course."
"No, I'll sleep some more," Sierra said readily, settling back down into the furs. She did not feel good enough to face her new reality just yet. Maybe sleeping the rest of the night would help. She snorted to herself. Not likely. "Oh, and Morrigan?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you…for putting me to sleep when I got back."
The elf watched the pale woman freeze, mid-stir. The light was too dim to be sure, but Sierra was almost positive she saw a blush bleed across Morrigan's cheeks.
"Well…" she finally stammered. "You needed it, obviously."
"Of course," the Grey Warden agreed, "but I alsoneeded to not relive losing Alistair all over again. So, thank you."
The silence stretched out. "You…spoke to him, then?" the witch eventually asked.
"Yes," Sierra answered simply, feeling her throat tighten a bit.
"That is…" Morrigan stopped herself, and pulled her spine straighter. "That is…good. I am," she cleared her throat, "happy for you."
Pulling the furs up to her chin, Sierra smiled at flustering the somber mage. She closed her dark eyes, and drifted back to sleep.
She walked through a jagged mountain pass, the walls of rock rising up to incredible heights on either side of her. Above her, she recognized the boiled, purple sky of the Fade too well. This, however, was just a dream.
Looking down, she saw that she wore a beautiful green gown, the fabric ebbing and flowing around her bare feet as she moved. She giggled; she'd rival Anora herself if she showed up at the palace in this.
Up ahead of her, she could hear loud, boisterous splashing, and she quickened her pace.
The pass abruptly ended, opening up into a great valley. Nearby was a sparkling, clear lake. The source of the splashing was impossible to miss. Sierra gathered her skirts and made her way over.
She paused as she drew close, folding her knees and bending her head.
"Rise up." Urthemiel's voice reverberated all around her, and she obediently straightened her legs to look up at the towering dragon.
"Enjoying your freedom?" she asked. The God lay on its side, front legs crossed, head lifted like a dog who'd heard a sound in the night. The posture was so like that of her old mabari that Sierra's heart ached a bit.
"Toth is, to be sure."
The elf turned to look. The other God was completely in the lake, rolling playfully in the water, splashing delightedly and generally making as much racket as it could. Its wings unfurled suddenly, sending huge amounts of water dancing through the air. It shook its head, then buried its snout below the surface, blowing enormous bubbles.
Sierra couldn't help but smile.
"You seem to do all the talking. Why doesn't Toth speak?" she asked, curious.
There was no answer for a few long minutes. "Toth was imprisoned far longer than I. When we were trapped, we reverted to these forms we inhabit to escape the torture. Only after you freed us could we remember who we are. It will be far more difficult for Toth to recall that the form is not all that exists."
Her forehead wrinkled with confusion. "So, you aren't really dragons? You just look like them?"
Urthemiel turned away from its fellow deity to look down its long snout at her. "What is 'really' a dragon? Do you know?"
She squirmed uncomfortably. "Well…not all dragons are Gods, surely."
"You are correct, but which are, and which are not? That is something even we do not always know. Our world, and its inhabitants, is forever changing." It paused then, turning to look at Toth frolicking in the lake. "We have existed in many forms, for many years. Sometimes it is a choice, sometimes it is a necessity. We all do what we must."
"Of course," she agreed readily.
"Still…" It blew air from its nostrils heavily. "It pains me to see one of my kin reduced to such base instincts."
"Toth will recover, though, yes?" she asked, watching the oblivious, playful dragon again.
"Undoubtedly, but by a timeline I am not aware of." It snorted, rustling its folded wings. "It is, however, unseemly." When Sierra said nothing, it added, "For beings such as us to be so lowered." It rolled one large eye to look at her.
Sierra did not know what to say, and so she shifted her weight from foot to foot nervously.
"You wonder why you are here, yes? Why we have called you."
"Yes," she admitted. "In fact, why are you still…here? I did free you, didn't I?" Her heart leapt in her throat a bit. If the dragons were still trapped, then what of the rest of them? Victor and Pria? Alistair…?
"Be calm." The eye looking at her was kind, as if it sensed her distress. "Your fellows Warden have crossed over. They are at peace. Toth and I have the ability to be where we wish to be. Death does not hinder us much, except, of course, when we are trapped by foul demons." It turned its great head to focus both eyes on her.
"I plan to go to the head of the Grey Wardens," she explained. "To make sure this doesn't happen again."
"You feel that will be enough to prevent this?"
She blinked, unsure of where the God was going with that question. "Yes."
"I do not share your optimism."
"I'm not sure what-"
"We do not wish to see any more of our kin so belittled. It makes us appear weak to our foes." It lowered its head a little bit, drawing closer to her.
"Your foes?" she echoed. "No Grey Wardens know about your capture, except me."
"You and your order are not our foes. Battles are being fought, and wars are being waged right now that you are completely unaware of. Our world is not yours."
Sierra clenched her fists involuntarily. This was a realm of problems and combat that she wanted nothing to do with. It didn't matter. What mattered was the dragon's previous statement. "I assume you have a suggestion, since my solution is not satisfactory to you."
"We have called you here, because we have a proposition for you."
A feeling of unease suddenly rippled down Sierra's skin. "What would that be?" she asked cautiously.
"We would have you become our instrument in your realm. We would have you dispatch the last two of our kin when they become infected with the darkspawn's disease. This way, no mortal can cloud the issue with their love for one of their fellows. The last two will not be subjected to what Toth and I have been subjected to."
The elf's mouth fell open in shock. There were so many things that were completely impossible with this idea. Perhaps it simply didn't understand her limitations as a mortal. Obviously, it knew she could die…but maybe it didn't know just how easily.
"Do not fear. We will not send you out to do this errand unaided. We will open a channel between ourselves and you, giving you access to power only dreamed of by others of your kind."
Oh, Gods. It had misinterpreted her shock for fear. "Urthemiel," she began, trying to make her tone as reasonable as possible, "I have no desire for power such as that. Besides, I will not live to see the next Blight."
"Without assistance, of course not. We can make you immortal, lengthen your years until your task is complete."
Sierra stared up at the God in growing horror. "I…I don't want to be immortal," she said slowly, nerves making her tongue thick. "Really. Your offer is…generous, but I can't-"
"You wished for more time, did you not?" Its eyes were piercing, calculating.
"Yes, but that was in the Fade," she said, her voice becoming stern. She felt like she was scolding a child who was deliberately misunderstanding its bedtime, a child old enough to know better. "You know I didn't mean it like this."
"You wished for more time. We are simply granting your wish."
Her heart began pounding, and the Grey Warden felt anger flare up, and all respectful mannerisms before the God fled. "You're the ones who call the darkspawn!" she hissed. "If you don't want to be tainted, don't call them to you! Tell your fellows that!"
"We have no choice but to call them. We are buried underground, trapped. We want freedom, and the darkspawn are the only way out. We do not want to be twisted, infected. The entire Blight, when we are what you call 'Archdemons', we are mad. It is not pleasant, to be mad." It narrowed its huge eyes at her. "I believe you know just how unpleasant it is."
"Look," she spluttered, trying to let her mind sail right past what the dragon had said, but it was hard. The Grey Warden in her shrieked in shock. Were the Old Gods really just as much the victims during a Blight as anyone else? "I can't defeat two Gods! I'll die after the first one! Remember, that's how you were trapped in the first place! Alistair died to kill you!"
"I remember. Our connection will transform you. You will become more than a Grey Warden, above their limitations. You will be our agent, our Champion. In striking down the last two of our kin, you shall not perish. When the last is struck down, you shall be allowed to live out the rest of your lifespan as if we had not interfered. Then you will die naturally, or on a different battlefield of your choosing. The decision is yours."
Sierra felt like she'd lost control of the entire conversation. She had an urge to flee, to just run away, but the rational part of her brain told her that was likely impossible. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself. "Urthemiel. Your offer is an honor, truly, but I have no desire to be your Champion." She spread her arms wide. "I'm sure there are plenty of others you could call who would love the opportunity, the abilities. In fact, there's a mage in the hut where my body is sleeping right now who'd leap at the thought of such power. Let me wake, and I'll-"
"We do not want anyone else to be our Champion. We want you to be our Champion. Your…need to try, that which drove you to succeed almost at the cost of your own life. We want that."
Now the urge to run was almost overwhelming. Putting up her hands, the elf started backing away from the dragon slowly. "Really, I cannot accept. I've had enough excitement, I just want to live out the rest of my life in peace and quiet-"
The God bent its head towards her, until its tooth-filled mouth was mere inches away from her. "Perhaps there has been a misunderstanding…"
Breathing a huge sigh of relief, the elf smiled gratefully. "Yes, definitely. I-"
The dragon swiveled its head, and one massive eye stared at her. "You seem to think we are giving you a choice…Champion."
A loud buzzing filled her ears, and the only thing she could hear above it was Toth's contented splashing. Her mouth went dry, making it hard to swallow. Vaguely, she remembered something Ashalle had told her once: to be favored by the Gods was not always a good thing.
Turning its head and opening its mouth, Urthemiel exhaled forcefully. Sierra shut her eyes as the gust of wind made her stumble back a bit.
Dawn's light filtered through the hut's curtained windows. She stared at the ceiling hard, as if it were somehow to blame for this. Was it true? Or had it just been a horrible dream? Her mind chided her gently and her lips twisted; she'd had enough visions to know what was dream and what wasn't. It may have seemed like a normal dream at first, but that had been no dream.
A solid weight in her hand drew her attention. She lifted her hand, and saw a brilliantly gold coin between her fingers. Flipping it back and forth, her eyes narrowed as first Urthemiel's, then Toth's face shined at her from their individual sides.
She let her hand drop, dejectedly, back to the furs she laid on. She had things she needed to do. Once those things were completed, she'd be able to devote all her time to figuring out this latest…mess.
Try as she might, Sierra could not muster up any rage at this new, horrifying development. All she felt was resignation. Was that part of their "connection"? Had they take away her flash of anger, her beautiful, red-rimmed rage and replaced it with this…cold acceptance? Filled her up with icy calm instead of dark fire? Without Alistair, she supposed there wasn't much of a need for passion, anyway.
"You're awake!" Leliana chirruped, and came bounding across the room.
The elf managed to sit up in time to meet the other woman's overenthusiastic embrace. She grunted with the impact of the bard against her chest.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Leliana said immediately, pulling away. "Did I hurt you? How are you feeling?" Her blue eyes filled with concern. "Are you…better?"
Sierra laughed as convincingly as she could. "That's a lot of questions."
"Yes, Leliana, don't smother the woman," Morrigan sniped from near the fire.
The Orlesian glared at the witch, and the Warden looked past the bard to the raven-haired woman across the room. There was no hint of the small, very open discussion they'd had hours before. Morrigan had gone back to being Morrigan: shut as tightly as an unripe walnut.
"Are you hungry?" the bard asked. "Morrigan said you weren't last night, but surely you must be by now!"
The elf smiled and nodded. Apparently her acting skills had improved, because the Orlesian's answered grin was huge. Grabbing the Grey Warden's hand, she dragged her to the hearth.
Leliana chatted incessantly as they ate, asking question after question about what had happened. Sierra answered obediently with feigned cheerfulness, only sobering when she reached the parting with Alistair.
The bard seemed pleased with the elf's recitation, and busied herself with discussion about what their next step would be. She was campaigning vigorously for the trip to Orlais and buying dresses. Sierra remained noncommittal, but nodded in all the right places.
Glancing over at Morrigan, she felt a chill run through her spine. The witch did not seem fooled by her act in the slightest. She stared at Sierra with an intensity the Warden found disturbing, like the elf had suddenly become very interesting.
Sierra kept up the dance for the rest of the day. Leliana's excitement and joy practically filled the cabin, but the elf remained untouched by it. Morrigan continue to watch the Warden, as if she were waiting for something to happen. Sierra tried to convince herself that the mage was simply on the lookout for another emotional outburst…but the feeble explanation didn't stick very well.
"I'm going to gather some firewood," Sierra said as the other two women were gathering the ingredients for the evening meal.
"I'll come with you!" Leliana said immediately.
"No, it's fine," Sierra insisted. "I…need some time to think."
The bard's face filled with compassion. "It's about Alistair, isn't it?"
The elf almost let loose a hysterical giggle. "Yes," she lied, hoping her face was convincing.
"I understand," the bard replied, stepping forward to give Sierra a quick hug. "Don't wander too far!"
Sierra assured her she wouldn't, swung her huge cloak over her shoulders, and quickly left the hut. Her breath puffed out in plumes as she strode determinedly away. Privacy, privacy, privacy… The woods this high up the mountains were sparse and filled with rugged evergreens. It would have to be enough. She walked purposefully inside.
Beneath the shadows of the thick boughs, where only a few beams of dying sunlight came through, Sierra took a deep, shaking breath. The presence of the trees granted her Dalish sensibilities a margin of relief. Reaching beneath her armor, she yanked out the coin with the dragons' faces on it. Acting on a hunch, she clutched it tightly in her fist and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to clear her mind of everything but Urthemiel and Toth.
She opened her eyes, and she stood before the dragon again. The damnable green gown swirled around her ankles as she stomped forward.
"How dare you!" she demanded, craning her neck to look up at the God accusingly.
"I see you have discovered how you can reach us." Urthemiel looked down at her. "You already prove we chose well in picking you."
"I don't want this," she hissed frantically, ignoring the compliment. "I freed you, and I didn't have to! This is how you show your thanks?"
"You wished for more time. We are granting your wish."
"You're twisting my words! You know that's not what I meant!" she cried.
"You will retain your looks, your semblance of youth, if that is what is bothering you."
"That is not what's bothering me!" she shrieked. "What am going to do with power, with immortality?!" the elf added desperately, throwing up her hands.
The dragon's eyes shined eerily. "Whatever you wish. You may use the power you have access to as much as you like, not just for assistance in striking down our kin." Its voice changed in timbre slightly. "You could be revered as a God. You could rule nations."
Revulsion spread across her flesh. "I won't do that. If that's what you mean for me to do, you've got the wrong woman!"
The shine faded from Urthemiel's eyes, as if in disappointment. "Use it as you wish." It stood up tall, looking back at Toth, who had not yet tired of swimming. "We care not. Just complete your task."
"If I don't?" she snarled. "What if I leave your kin to be slain by other Wardens? With the information I know, I could make sure that it is done by Wardens in love, guaranteeing that the final two Gods are ensnared by demons!"
A long period of silence stretched out, only broken by intermittent splashing from Toth. "You would not do such a thing."
"No?" she laughed coldly. "You don't think I'm capable of that kind of spite?"
"Indeed you are. You would not condemn others to endure what you have just to satisfy your spitefulness, however. Your nature will not allow you to."
All the bravado leaked out of her Sierra's body. She hung her head. The dragon was right; she could never. Her eyes blurred with angry tears. Why did everyone insist on making her live longer? Duncan, Morrigan had tried and failed, Alistair…twice, and now two ancient Gods. Was there to be no rest for her? No mercy?
"Go back now, Champion."
"Don't call me that," she whispered, lifting her head to glare at Urthemiel.
"It is what you are."
"You have no idea what I am," she growled, "but since we're going to be working together for a while, you'll find out."
Sierra thought of the cold evergreen forest on the Frostback Mountains.
The forest's quiet felt deafening. Her fist tightened around the golden coin until it was painful, and she had to force her muscles to relax. So… This was where her life had led her; this was the path she was to walk. She had been hoping to join Alistair beyond the Fade in a reasonable amount of time. Apparently not.
She felt someone else's presence push against her senses. "Hello, Morrigan," she called out, not knowing how she knew it was the witch. Sierra turned around to face the startled woman. "Concerned for me?" she teased.
Morrigan's back straightened stiffly. "I wanted to speak with you…alone."
The elf spread her arms. "We're alone. Say what you'd like to say."
"You are…different since you awoke this morning. Different from even last night, when we talked," the witch began. She narrowed her reptilian eyes. "There's something new about you, something-"
"Powerful?" Sierra supplied, not being able to stand it any longer. If Morrigan knew, then she knew. What was the use in hiding it?"
"Yes," breathed the raven-haired woman. "It's quite riveting. What is it? Or don't you know?"
Holding up the coin, the Warden twirled it delicately between her fingers. The fading light reflected off the surface, splashing Morrigan's face with circles of light. "Do you plan to use the secrets in Flemeth's grimoire to extend your life? To live forever as she did?"
The apostate's face twisted in shock and anger. "That is none of your business!"
Sierra tucked the coin back inside her armor, and it nestled coldly against her skin. "If that's the case…then I suppose I'll be seeing you around." With determined steps, she pushed past her former companion and headed out of the woods.