TWENTY-ONE

He didn't know how long he'd been walking, how much time had passed, but it was dark again. Winter was always so damn dark, yet Tristan reckoned he was about halfway to Amaranthine by now. That was when he started to feel a pull. The taint within drew him to them. But it was Melisende's that called out the strongest. They took the Joining together. She was like a sister to him once. Now, he wasn't so sure.

Tristan remained in the shadows, observing the scene before him. The Grey Wardens had put up a sort of semi-tent, two poles holding up a leather canvas to keep away the wind, the worst of the winter elements. He noticed Oghren sleeping under it, snoring loudly, and somebody else he did not know. But it was Melisende he was really interested in.

She sat on a log, her elbows on her knees, her hands held bare in front of her. Her gloves lay discarded at her feet, forgotten, as she stared mesmerized at her palms. The fire blazed in front of her, shining a flickering light onto her face. Her expression was hard to read. It put Tristan in mind of sorrow, but maybe he was only projecting what he felt onto her. The spell was broken as he brushed against a branch and it whipped back into place, causing a loud snapping sound. She became as alert as a bloodhound, standing up quickly and sensing for danger around her.

Tristan realized he would have to reveal himself, before she woke the others, before she decided to use her swords blindly. With that thought, it was almost as if Melisende knew what he was thinking, for she gathered her swords in front of her, looking straight at him, though she couldn't know it was him.

"I can feel you, creature. Whatever you are, show yourself," she warned in a loud whisper.

He stepped forward slowly until he reached the edge of the fire's light. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"You?" Melisende asked with a shake of her head. She held her swords up still, pointed in his direction. She must have been holding her breath, for she let it out in a barely audible lament. "I thought you were a darkspawn – I never expected you."

Tristan closed the distance between them, yet he made sure to stay far away enough from her that she couldn't gut him with her swords. He knew that if Alistair had been angry with him, then Melisende surely would be. She didn't often fly into a rage, but when she did, it was scary, and best to be avoided altogether if possible.

They stood staring at one another for a moment. She was bleary-eyed, and a little unsteady on her feet, but she didn't back down. Tristan was unsure of what to say, yet he needed to speak, to prove to her that he was real, for she seemed to be in disbelief.

"I felt your presence in the area…" Tristan finally said, breaking the silence.

"So, what? You thought you'd stop by and say hello?" She lowered one sword as she said this, shaking the other accusingly in his direction. Her voice cracked with emotion. "Why are you here, Tristan?"

He remained quiet while she circled him, turning around with her, locking his eyes with her own. She was angry with him, it was plain for him to see, but there was also hurt in her eyes. His heart twisted in guilt for the pain he'd caused her. He couldn't find his tongue to answer her. No words were sufficient enough to ease anything for the both of them.

Melisende halted abruptly, twirled her swords around and planted them into the cold, hard ground. She approached him warily, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She reached out a hand and touched his face lightly and her features softened.

"I didn't want to believe it – believe that you would abandon us… but here you are, alive, just like it was said."

To his surprise, she pulled him close into an embrace. She was always too good a friend for him, more than he ever deserved. He put his arm around her and rested his chin above her head. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"You don't know how much I want to kill you right now…" she said against him.

You don't know how much I would welcome that…

Melisende broke free and looked to him with a grin on her face. "Why is it so damned hard to stay angry with you? The moment I see you, I want to forget about all you've done to make me angry."

Tristan lifted a shoulder. "I certainly don't deserve that kind of easy forgiveness."

"I don't know what you were thinking. You put me in such an awkward position with the other Wardens, with Sammy, with everyone who asked about you. You basically made me a liar!"

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, it was only meant for Nathaniel to keep that secret."

Melisende frowned. "It does not. And how could you run away again, pretend to be dead this time? Why? Do you hate the Wardens that much? Do you not care about any of us?"

Tristan took a deep breath. He didn't want to have to explain himself, but he knew he owed at least this to Melisende. "I don't hate the Grey Wardens, but it was never what I wanted. I hate being a Grey Warden. It is just another chain around my neck. I wanted to be free, for the first time in my life. Can't you understand that?"

"You sound like Anders," Melisende said. "He made the same excuses when I ran into him."

"You ran into him?"

Melisende nodded. "In Kirkwall, where I ended up after the shipwreck, dragon attack, whatever it was. He feels the same way."

"You see then, how could I be Commander when I felt like that? You never lacked freedom. You don't know what it's like to be a mage. Besides, I thought you were dead; there was nothing left for me with the Wardens. You are all better off without me."

"You're ridiculous to think that." Melisende crossed her arms. "You're a great leader, a hero, and we are better off when you are around to lead us."

Tristan ran a hand through his hair. He was starting to feel a little dizzy again and so he took a seat by the fire. "I am not the man I once was."

Melisende took a seat beside him. She gazed sadly at the fire. "And I am not the girl I once was. There must be something wrong, for you to be back."

She's too polite, too well bred in manners to ask why I look like shit, he thought. He wasn't ready to talk yet. "You are changed too."

"I did something so very stupid in my grief for you…"

He placed a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, nodding at her to go on, even though her features were pained. But she shook her head.

"I don't want to talk about it. It's done and buried, six feet under. It won't make any difference to talk about it with you. I'm sorry… All you need to know is that Nathaniel and I are no longer together." She removed his hand. He wondered what she had done, but there was no use in prodding her, or even expressing his surprise at her break up from Nathaniel, for she turned her attention full onto him now. "You were with Brenna all this time, weren't you?"

He flinched at her name. It was painful to hear, painful to speak, even to think of. All it did was bring him back to that dreadful night… "Yes, I was with her."

"So why are you here, alone?" she asked it with concern in her eyes.

Tristan avoided meeting Melisende's gaze. It would be easy to break under her scrutiny. He could have ignored the pull of her blood, continued on his way to Amaranthine; it would have been so easy, really. But he owed her. And there were things she could help him with as well. "There's something I need to know. Have the Wardens been receiving any sort of threats? Any… assassination attempts?"

"The Grey Wardens have not been receiving any threats, but," and here she looked at him in what he could only see as resentment, "we certainly have been targeted without warning."

"Tell me, everything, please."

She looked at him with brow furrowed in irritation, but answered his request nonetheless. "The darkspawn were out for blood this summer past – your blood. In this very area actually. A disciple led a small group, ambushing us, nearly slitting my throat in the process. They mentioned you, were angry that you killed the Mother and let the Architect go free."

Tristan found his anger rising. "You almost died? In my place…"

"I didn't." Melisende shrugged, as if it was no big deal at all.

Darkspawn coming after him, that was nothing new. It was interesting, and it was also frustrating that Melisende had almost died in his stead. He didn't think, however, he could link the assassins to the darkspawn. They were smarter these days, but he didn't think they were smart enough to hire human assassins. "Was there anything else?"

"There was that episode in Orzammar which involved a couple of crazy dwarves, a dark cell, a bit of torture, and Sammy fighting off a bronto, all because we put Bhelen on the throne."

"What?" Tristan regarded her askance. "You speak as if that is nothing. But again, someone else is paying for what I've done…" Could dwarves be behind the assassins? Probably not, for they would most likely send a carta assassin after him.

"Sure, they wanted you, but I was right there with you during the Blight."

Tristan shook his head in disbelief. Why did the Maker have to let others pay for what he did? Why did it always seem to happen that way? Nobody but himself deserved to be targeted. He was the one that had made every decision final. "You shouldn't have to pay for all I've done."

"Tristan, why are you here?" Melisende brushed off his concern. She was no longer irritated. A look of worry crossed her face. "What has happened? Has someone come after you?"

"Someone has…" Tristan had to look away. Guilt flooded his whole being. Someone else always got caught in the crossfire. He would not let that happen anymore. "I need to catch up with the miscreants, to pay them back for what they have done."

"What have they done?" Melisende turned him toward her, forcing him to look at her. She must have seen the pain in his eyes. "Oh Maker, it's Brenna, isn't it?"

He nodded. "I don't know who sent them, but I will find them, if it is the last thing I do."

Melisende wrapped an arm around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Tristan, I am so sorry…"

He considered pushing her away. In the end, however, he let his friend comfort him, but he told himself it was only for her own benefit. Really, though, it felt good to know that she was still there for him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I need to find them," he replied. "I know Zevran could be of use, if they were sent by the Crows… but I don't know where he is."

"How are you going to find Zevran?"

"Maybe if I say his name enough, he'll just show up?" He didn't know where that came from. He hadn't meant to say something like that… something that could be considered funny…

Melisende emitted a low chuckle. She withdrew her arm from him and pulled back, looking him in the eye again. He could see that her eyes had watered up. She was always such an emotional person. It must be good, he thought, to be able to just let go like that…

"Tristan…" she ventured. "You don't look well. Come back to Vigil's Keep tomorrow…"

Tristan shook his head. He got the feeling that Melisende was of the same mind as Alistair, as Leandro, as Ronan, even as Mother Anaïs – that this was a wild goose chase, a stupid idea. Well, he didn't care what anyone thought. He was going to avenge her murder, no matter what anyone thought. "I can't. I have to continue."

"Then continue tomorrow…rest here for the night."

Tristan couldn't let the others catch up to him. He needed to do this alone. Zevran was his last hope for answers, if he could find the assassin. He only hoped Zevran wouldn't offer his aid and begin following him around too. He would be off as soon as he could. "Ronan is following me."

"Ronan?" Melisende backed away in surprise. "He's home?"

"Yes…" He didn't like the expression on Melisende's face – anxious, wary. "I need to be off before he catches up. This is something I need to do alone."

"Tristan, I know how you feel. Believe me, I know." Melisende paused, biting her lip in thought. "When my family was murdered, I let revenge take hold of me, of my life. Killing Rendon Howe helped only for a minute. For where was I after that? My family was still dead; they were never going to come back no matter what I did. I'm not going to tell you what you should and shouldn't do, that is for you to decide. You are after all, free. Just be careful, please. Don't let the vengeance take you over. Let yourself time to actually grieve."

She wasn't telling him what to do, but it was obvious to Tristan that she felt the same way the others did. He thought she would have understood. How could she begrudge him what she had done herself? He would acknowledge her advice, at the least. "Thank you… I really am sorry for disappearing again, for causing all that trouble for you, for putting your life in danger. That was never my intent. And you have to know, I cannot come back to the Wardens."

"Is that a forever, not coming back to the Wardens I mean?"

"Forever is a strong, impossible word…" He shrugged. If all went well, if he got the revenge, the justice he sought, then forever would indeed be true.

…

Her dreams were the only good thing in her life these days. And such a sweet dream she was having. Melisende was talking to Tristan, clearing the air between them. She never thought to see him again, was faintly happy that she never would, for he had left her, left the order once again. But he apologized to her, gave her an explanation, somewhat of a bullshit explanation she had to admit, but she felt like she understood him. He said she couldn't because she had always been free, but that was not the case. If it weren't for the Blight, she'd have been thrust into a life not of her choosing. While she never dreamt of being a Grey Warden, it was as close to the life of a knight that she had dreamed of as a girl.

And then she began to wake, and Melisende realized the dream had not been as sweet as that. Her eyelids fluttered open. The fire had burnt out and she found herself shivering in the cold morning air. Confusion danced in her mind, causing her a head ache.

He was really here, wasn't he? She looked to where he sat before in the night. The spot was empty. Maybe he just got up to relieve himself…

The rest of the dream came back to her. Brenna was dead, murdered by assassins and Tristan was going after them, Tristan who looked so weak from the person he used to be. No, it wasn't a dream, he was here.

She stood up, pulling her cloak around her for warmth, and began frantically searching the area. He couldn't have just left, without saying goodbye, again. She couldn't find him anywhere, though. Her chest tightened, thinking of him, thinking of what happened to Brenna. It was horrible. And now he was going to walk right into the dragon's den for revenge.

"What's your problem?" Oghren asked from under their makeshift tent. He burped loudly and scratched his beard.

"You saw him too right?" Melisende continued, retaking her seat at the burnt out fire. How could she have fallen asleep again, knowing what happened the last time that she'd done that? He must have been there, or else she would not have fallen asleep.

"Who?" Oghren bunched his brows in annoyance.

"He was here, talking to me." Melisende hoped somebody else had seen him. Maybe it was just a dream. If so, she had put them all in danger, again.

Lina sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't see anyone."

"Tristan!" Melisende said. She looked from Oghren to Lina and back again, hoping one of them had seen, or heard what happened.

"Okay, you're officially bonkers," Oghren said.

Melisende crawled over to him, grabbed him by the collar, and dragged him upwards. "Please tell me you saw him."

Oghren held his hands up in surrender. "All I saw was sweet Felsi…"

Melisende let him go. "Ugh, I don't want to hear of your naughty dreams."

Oghren chuckled. "You had too much to drink, Cousland, that's all."

Melisende shook her head. "No, it was real. Maker knows I wouldn't have fallen asleep if he weren't there to keep watch. I've learned my lesson on that front."

"I believe you," Lina said. "Though I slept so deeply that I didn't notice anything, sorry."

Oghren snorted. "Well, it's very comforting to know that he would leave us to the wolves, after all we've been through."

"Not to mention, the fire burned itself out, leaving us in the cold." Lina rubbed her arms as she shivered. She went to the fire, moved the contents around and then effortlessly created a new one from the tips of her fingers.

Oghren chuckled, though to Melisende it sounded half-hearted. "You were quite warm, though too much leg and not enough… cushy for my liking."

Lina stared in horror at Oghren. "Oh Maker… tell me we didn't cuddle…"

"He wasn't… right," Melisende said, still deep in her own thoughts.

"You're making excuses for him again?" Oghren stood up and stretched. After, the episode, in Orzammar, all the Grey Wardens knew the truth of Tristan. It was known, but rarely spoken of. Melisende got the feeling that of all the Wardens who knew Tristan (Lina being the only one who didn't), Oghren was the one most miffed by it all. He'd been around longer than the rest, had left a great position in the Ferelden army, left a wife and son, to follow his beloved Commander into the Grey Warden ranks. And then that Commander ditched them without, it seemed at the time, a second thought. It was no wonder he'd turned so bitter, drawn to drink even more so than before.

"No…" Hell, no. Melisende shook her head. She wasn't defending Tristan, but neither did she want to upset Oghren further by insisting she had seen Tristan, and that he'd not even bothered to greet the dwarf, before leaving yet again. It was too early for that and so she'd leave it be for the moment. "Just forget about it. Maybe I was just really drunk."

She knew better though. A faint memory of Tristan brushing her hair from her face as she slept flashed through her mind. He had been there. She wasn't a delusional drunk; it hadn't been just a dream. Her heart sank as she remembered that he did say something before leaving.

Farewell… he said farewell.