Chapter 28: Clearing the Rubble
In the two days following the cave-in, Zevran couldn't help noticing that relations seemed strained between his cousin and her templar. Wandering over as she was preparing dinner, he helped her chop some vegetables. "So, my dear cousin, I am quite happy that you are feeling no lingering effects from dropping below ground. I will admit that I was quite worried until we found you, and that you only had minor injuries. Do not do that to me again," he playfully put his hand on his heart, though he was completely serious.
Starr smiled at him, the first real smile he'd seen on her face since before the darkspawn attack. "I will try to avoid cave-ins in the future. Would you believe me if I said they are not particularly amusing?"
"Hmm, I have always thought as much. Good to have that confirmed." He idly looked around, pretending to realize just now that Alistair wasn't around, "And where is your divinely handsome warrior? Usually he would be somewhere, ready to lend a hand. Or just talking."
She didn't look at him as she answered, "He's been meditating a lot since we got buried. He thinks that if he could strengthen his templar training he could avoid a repetition." She shrugged her shoulders, "Maybe he's right. He feels he has to try, anyway."
"I am sure he was beyond horrified when you threw yourself between him and that ogre. Very brave, but very reckless. He cares about you too much to want to see you hurt."
"What are friends for?" Starr continued her dinner preparations.
Zevran regarded her thoughtfully. "You know, bellissima, you were in that cave together for some time. I know that if I found myself alone in the dark with an attractive companion after surviving such a horrible experience we would be making love in no time. Rather life-affirming, sí?" Starr's hand paused for a moment, but she said nothing, only her blush giving her away. "Oh ho and now they avoid each other. What else happened?" Time to find out what was wrong, "Carissima, after the passion, what did you do next?"
She glared at him, "We talked, Zevran. You know, that thing you do with your mouth and sound comes out?"
Zevran grinned wickedly, "Mouths can accomplish that with more than talking, my innocent young cousin. So, what did you talk about?"
Narrowing her eyes, she looked at her cousin in frustration, "You're going to pester me until I tell you, aren't you?" He didn't answer, just waited. "Fine, we talked about my scars, and other things." She turned back to her cooking.
"I am glad that you finally talked about what was done to you; and I have some questions. But that is not all, is it bellissima?" Zevran was determined to find out everything he could from his cousin before he tackled Alistair.
Miserably, she finally answered him, "He told me he loved me. And I told him I didn't. Or rather that I didn't know if I did."
"Poor Alistair. He certainly picked a rocky path for his first love. No wonder he is off 'meditating,'" Aloud he said, "And is that true, or something you told him because you are afraid?"
"I don't know, Zev. How do you know when you are in love?" she looked at him, her expression equal parts hope and misery.
"Their safety and happiness are more important than your own, you would risk death to protect them, you can't picture life without them and you can picture life with them forty years into the future, you find yourself treasuring the smallest moments of togetherness, you look for ways to make the other person happy, . . ." He said none of those things. "My dear, you must remember I grew up among whores and trained to be an assassin. Romance and other finer feelings were not encouraged because they make you weak. And weakness would get you killed. I am afraid, my comely cousin, I do not have the experience to help you."
"Huh, well no harm in asking." She wasn't sure she believed him, but she wasn't going to pry. "I've thought about what you said, about my scars. I've decided to have Wynne look at them. I'll ask her before we get to Lake Calenhad. You have a number of tattoos; do you know anything about the art?"
"Now there's an idea. Yes, if you are interested I might be able to give you one. Think about it, and we can talk some more later. If you could provide a sketch of what you want, that would be even better. I will go check on my supplies, to see what I might need." He sauntered off to his tent, thinking. He would wait a few minutes in his tent, maybe even sketch out some ideas for a tattoo in the fortunate event that Wynne would be able to reduce or remove them. Then he would hunt up Alistair.
Alistair was far enough away from camp to be alone but close enough that he could just faintly hear the sounds of his companions. The mood he was in, he preferred to be even farther away but that could be dangerous. He tried to meditate, to strengthen his willpower. Instead, he kept circling back to the cave-in. "Maker, I can't believe we were going to make love on the floor of that cave! At least until I said I loved her. 'But I don't know if I love you that way.'" The pain of her pulling away from him. The knowledge that those bastards had given her to others, that she didn't even know how many. "Maric could have been Marcail's father. Maric was with her, my Starr. Maric, bloody Maric." He pounded his fists into the ground. He brooded some more. "At least he recognized that she was too young. I suppose it was decent of him and Cailan to stop and to apologize. She said they talked about me. I'm going to have to ask her. But not yet, I can't."
That's how Zevran found him, sitting on the ground with his head bowed, shoulders sagging. Zevran sat down across from him and waited for the younger man to notice him. When Alistair lifted his head, Zevran sucked in his breath. The templar looked ten years older. "Alistair, my friend, what is wrong? Something has not been right since the cave-in. I thought your injuries were fairly minor, under the circumstances, am I mistaken?"
At first, Alistair wasn't going to answer. But, Zevran was his friend; maybe talking would help him sort things out in his head. At least it would temporarily stop the circle wearing into his brain. With ragged breath, Alistair answered him. "At first I was so angry with her, that she would stand between me and an ogre. I was shaking her, and then I was kissing her. We were all over each other. I, I told her I loved her. She changed. She told me she was willing to have sex with me, but didn't know if she could offer me more." He fell silent again.
"And what was your response? I could understand if you and she finally consummated your passion. It has certainly been simmering for a long time. And you both nearly died, a particularly strong combination." Zevran wanted to hear Alistair's answer.
"I know what I want, if I can't have her love I will just be her friend. I won't compromise on some mish-mash in between." Alistair was very firm on that point.
"I think, my handsome young templar, that you are perhaps stronger than I would be. I am used to taking what enjoyment I can because I don't expect a tomorrow." Zevran pondered as he looked at Alistair.
Alistair looked at Zevran, "I wonder. Anyway, I am pretty sure I know who hurt her. We talked about what happened. In Denerim, I learned some things from Alice and Sarah. I'm sure you remember them," Alistair added drily. "Sanga banned a man from the Pearl because he savagely beat up one of the girls, an elven woman." Zevran nodded for Alistair to continue, and mentally patted himself on the back for not teasing Alistair at the obvious opportunity. "Apparently he then started taking women from the Alienage. When he was done, he would pass the woman to his guards for their enjoyment. Eventually she would be dumped near the Alienage gates, assuming she survived the tender treatment she received." His voice grew cold, hard and bitter, "The man who took Starr followed the same pattern, except he wanted a child of the Theirin bloodline to use against Maric and Cailan." He had to stop and take a deep breath. "Zevran, she told me she doesn't even know how many men used her." Zevran winced, knowing how much that thought hurt both Starr and Alistair. Then he became still as stone, thinking of ways for this man to die. Alistair continued, "I think the son of a bitch is Vaughan Kendells, Arl Urien's son."
Nostrils flaring, Zevran was still calm when he replied. "Yes, I think so as well. Your information confirms some things I heard in Denerim. Did Starr mention any names?"
"No," Alistair shook his head. "I asked her, but she doesn't remember hearing any names." Zevran had already decided that whether or not Vaughan Kendells took Starr, he was certainly guilty of similar crimes and deserved to die. He hoped there weren't two such monsters in Denerim.
"Well, my friend, I can't say this conversation was unexpected. I think in order to move forward you have to face her demons together. Is this why you are so troubled? Why you have moved away from my lovely cousin? Are you perhaps thinking it is wiser not to pursue a romance, that there's no hope?" Zevran probed the young man, determined to find out what was wrong. Not just for Starr's sake, but Alistair's as well.
"Maker's breath, no! I love Starr, and I am quite certain she loves me, even if she doesn't want to admit it. I can wait a bit longer. It's just, there's something else. And I need to get my head around it before I talk to her again." Alistair looked so confused and lost that Zevran was startled. He couldn't imagine what had Alistair so bothered. He almost didn't hear when Alistair whispered, "It's Maric, during the time with Cailan, Maric showed up. It was only once, but he was with her before he realized she was still a child."
Zevran's eyes opened wide, "Braska, this is like a bad play. On top of everything else, the father who abandoned him was with the woman he loves. No wonder he needs to 'get his head around it' before he talks to Starr." He was very cautious when he spoke to Alistair. "Does this matter so very much? You were accepting of Cailan's involvement, since he was innocent of any wrongdoing. Do you think . . . ?"
"By Andraste, no I don't! No, Maric is no more guilty than Cailan. But, he's my father and he never did anything for me. He didn't even acknowledge me. It's not rational, but I feel like he stole something from me. And, she said they talked about me. Why?"
"Perhaps it isn't that he stole something from you by being with the celestial Starr, but that action reminds you of everything he stole from you as a child? You have made no secret to me of your bitterness towards him, my friend." Zevran hoped he wasn't making things worse. He had never even stuck his foot near such deep water.
Alistair shook his head and laughed disparagingly. "Why didn't I think of that? When she told me, all those feelings of abandonment and hurt came back. I hated him for never asking about me, for never getting to know me, for not making sure I had a proper roof over my head instead of the bloody stables or kennels. And maybe I feel a bit betrayed, by her, for talking to him. Not exactly rational thinking, is it?"
"If the human heart were rational what would bards like lovely Leliana have to write about," Zevran said lightly. Alistair snorted. "Seriously, my friend, you should talk to her about this. You do yourself no favors by letting it fester."
"I know. I just need to think a bit more, get a bit more settled about it. Everything. I need to know that I can be at least reasonably calm when we talk. Somehow, I don't think it's going to be an easy conversation no matter what."
Zevran slowly nodded his head, "Perhaps you are right. Just do not wait too long. On another note, she is going to talk to Wynne about her scars, and she asked me about tattoos. I find both those things hopeful; it means she is looking forward, not back."
Alistair looked interested, "Tattoos? You mean those drawings on your body? I didn't know you knew how to do them. Doesn't it hurt? And involve needles?"
"Yes, a great many needles and possibly a great deal of pain. Why, are you interested in one?" The thought of tattooing the warrior intrigued Zevran.
"Yes, no, maybe," admitted Alistair. "A small one. But why would she want one? Hasn't she had enough pain?"
"Now there's an interesting question. Perhaps it is symbolic?"
"You mean like closing the door on the past, controlling the past instead of letting it control her?" Alistair thought about that for a moment. "I can see that."
Zevran laughed, "You are definitely not as stupid as Morrigan tries to pretend. While the process might be painful, it is a pain she will choose to endure. That, however, is just a possibility. She may just be exploring options, not making a decision. We shall see. For now, I leave you to your thoughts." Zevran stood and strolled off; maybe it was time to offer the Warden another massage.
Alistair watched him go, his thoughts already wandering, "Maric, bloody Maric."
