Salem
"Mistress Wynne, come quickly!" a foreign voice rang in my ears, discordant, noxious, far away.
Realization came too slow. I could hear the sounds of footfalls on stone floors, the gentle clanking of glass vials, and the low murmurs of several people...none whose cadence and accents I recognized. I could hear my own breathing, hitched, shallow, painful...something was wrong, and I did not know what it was. I did not know why every single sound was muddled and distorted.
"What is it?" through the muffled din, I caught a recognized tone and a familiar question.
"I think...I think her eyes are opening." the stranger spoke, an eagerness in his voice that I did not understand.
"Allow me..." Wynne said no more, but I heard shifting, movement, murmured whispers.
I flinched and stopped breathing at the feel of skin against my own, a warm hand resting on my cheek. It took a moment before I smelled lavender and elfroot, and knew then that the weathered skin against my own belonged to the hand of the senior enchanter. Her familiar touch and familiar scent calmed me and I was able to breathe again.
"Salem." Wynne spoke. "Salem, child, can you hear me?"
I pulled my eyelids open fully, hissing at the glare of the sun through the window. The pain shot through my eyes, radiating out from the back of my skull and pounding between my temples.
"Elfric, pull the shades please." Wynne ordered and the light mercifully dimmed. "Salem," the senior enchanter's eyes probed my own, "can you hear me? Blink once if you can."
Obedient, I closed my eyes, worried at the strain that I could see tightening the corners of her eyes and lips. Dark circles hovered beneath watery blue eyes that held too much worry for a woman her age. I opened my eyes again and Wynne's face beamed, losing the slightest bit of the anxiety.
"Here, child." she pressed a glass to my lips. "Drink this, slowly."
Water, sweetened with honey, filled my mouth. I took slow, deliberate sips, relishing the cool water flowing down my parched, swollen throat. The honey coated my mouth, erasing the desert-dry sensation I had awakened with. My eyes darted about as I drank, as I attempted to gain some understanding of what had happened.
Soft...warm. Mattress. Blankets. Dear Maker, what has transpired? How long have I been sleeping? I can hear, but scarcely...it seems as though everyone is speaking from a great distance. My right leg feels heavy; my chest aches; everything is hazy and blurred and I feel numb and in agony at the same time.
"Salem, can you speak?" Wynne set the glass aside on a table and dried the streams of water that had slipped from my mouth and run down my neck.
"Think..." I tested my voice, finding it raw, whispery, and ragged, "...so."
"Maker be praised." she pressed her hand to my forehead and closed her eyes. "No fever. Most excellent. Do not try to move, my dear. I will return in a moment."
"Wynne, what..." I needed her to tell me. I needed to know what was going on.
"Be patient." she interrupted. "There will be time for every question to be answered, every fear allayed. For now, be at peace. The archdemon is vanquished, Denerim saved, and you are alive. Content yourself with that, for the moment."
She exited the room and I closed my eyes as pain hammered harder at the back of them. I relaxed against the pillows, relishing their softness, a nice change from the cold stone of Fort Drakon, where I last remembered laying. I also remembered a sword in my hands, a burst of hot, acidic blood spraying my chest as I brought the blade down with the last of my strength. I remembered...the end of the war. The end of the Blight.
It's done, a slight smile washed over my face. Finished. The archdemon is dead and I am alive. Thank you, Morrigan...and...thank you, my Maker, for giving me this victory and sending me the assurance...allowing me to come back...knowing that I have not failed you.
More dim sound echoed through the room and I heard voices, though I could not make out the words. I felt pressure on my hand, though little else...until I inhaled the familiar scent of Andraste's Grace. Comfort and peace washed over me.
"Salem." my name...in her voice. All that mattered.
My eyes flared open and I turned my head, wincing as pain flared up and down my spine and insisted on beating against my temples. I did not care. I would never care about any physical discomfort again. Leliana's eyes fell on mine and they filled with tears even though her smile held the radiance of the sun. A timeless moment stretched between us, a realization that, for us, a future might exist. That we had survived the final battle and now we were here, battered, bruised, but alive. Alive, and together.
"Welcome back, my love." she whispered, lifting my hand against her cheek, cradling it close to her.
I saw then the crimson-stained bandages that covered my hand and arm. The sight made me aware of the pain, and my arm began burning, but I did not care. I would not care. Not any longer.
"You're...so beautiful." I whispered the first words that came to mind, even though questions burned in the back of my throat, begging to be asked. "Love you...so much."
More tears filled her eyes and her lips trembled. Wynne knelt beside her and my bard rested her head on the mage's shoulder, seeking comfort from her that I was too injured to provide. That knowledge hurt me, but I remembered my mother's words. I was but human. I had brought down a god. It would be too much to expect to escape from such a conflict unscathed.
"You had us quite worried, my dear." Wynne informed me. "The Blight ended five days ago and you were..." she paused, sniffing, gathering her composure. Leliana's lips trembled. "...you were terribly injured. We have been waiting and praying for you to awaken...there were times we feared the worst."
"I...apologize." I tried to smile.
"Oh, hush." Leliana lifted her head from Wynne's shoulders and brushed tears from her eyes with shaking fingers.
She looks beyond the point of exhaustion. Maker's breath, but I am an inconvenience. However, I know now that I shall have time to remedy that. I promise you, dear heart, I will be able to make up for these days of worry.
"You are here now; that is all that matters." Leliana placed a brief kiss on my bandaged hand. "Are you in pain, my love?"
"Yes." I felt too tired to lie, and the battle was over.
No longer did I feel the need to grit my teeth and press forward. For now, Ferelden was out of danger. I could rest, at last. I could admit that I hurt, at last.
"I can remedy that, now that it is safe to do so." Wynne patted Leliana on the shoulder and rose to her feet, walking to a corner of the room that I could not see.
Leliana remained silent, as though she were afraid to speak. Her lips trembled and her fingers roved over the bandaging on my hand as she bit her lip, as though she believed she might wound me further with a breath. Her ocean blue eyes were filled with ghosts and torment, the skin beneath them appeared bruised and blackened. She looked so pale...as though she had not seen the sun in years.
"Are you...all right?" I whispered the question dearest to my heart.
"Better now." she gave me the reply I had given her atop Fort Drakon.
"Is everything...did everyone..." I could not post the question, could not ask if the men and women I had grown to love were dead...or worse.
"Everyone is alive." she smiled, tracing my cheek with her fingertips. "Alistair's shield arm was broken when he took on an ogre singlehandedly. You would be proud of him, Salem. He held the gates, standing strong until the Dalish and the dwarves arrived to break the siege."
"They came." relief flooded through me.
All of those months, the agonizing decisions and compromising...in the end, was worth it. Our allies came to our aid. Thank the Maker. Perhaps, in the preservation of Ferelden, old grievances can be laid to rest.
"Yes, my love. You succeeded." she leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on my forehead. "You have earned a long rest."
Not yet. Not every mission is complete. One thing more, Leliana. One thing more.
"Alistair...king?"
She laughed and it was all the music I would ever need. "The poor man is yelling at nobles day and night. He says he will not wear the crown until you can stand beside him at his coronation. He is being quite the stubborn arse about it. Eamon is beside himself."
I smiled at that. "Leliana...why...why is my standing something we must...wait for?"
Her face darkened and I felt guilty for asking the question. "Your leg was badly broken, Salem." she answered. "Your breastbone was cracked and your skull fractured. You've been so ill...the mages have been able to do very little for you..." she began to weep once more and I wanted nothing but to take her in my arms.
"Head injury?" I asked, and she nodded. "Perhaps, now, I can remain...in my right mind." I teased, attempting to bring a smile to her face and banish her tears.
"You insouciant wretch." she muttered, brushing tears away once more. "If inappropriate, ill-timed humor was a weapon, you might have vanquished the archdemon sooner.'
"Leliana..."
"No, love." she stroked her fingers through my hair as Wynne rejoined us, bearing a small glass vial filled with a clear, sweet-smelling syrup. "You need to rest now. All will be well, and there will be time."
...time to grieve for the things we have lost. Time to hold each other and rest, away from turmoil and constant battle. Time to mend our spirits and souls. There will, at last, be time. Thank the Maker.
"Drink this." Wynne held the vial to my lips.
I hesitated, not wanting to lose more time, wanting to endure the pain so that I could be with my friends, with the woman I loved. Still, pain raged at me behind the veneer of consciousness, threatening to burst forward and drown me.
Leliana's hand replaced Wynne's on the vial, and her other hand soothed my furrowed brow. "There is no need to be so brave, Salem." Leliana whispered, comforting. "Let us ease your pain so that your injuries can be repaired in earnest. The world is waiting for you. I am waiting for you, and I do not wish to see you suffering."
"All right." I acquiesced, parting my lips, drinking the sweet-smelling but bitter tasting poppy syrup, knowing that, soon, it would carry me to oblivion.
I felt the brush of Leliana's lips across mine. "Dream sweetly, Salem." Leliana whispered. "I love you."
I did not think of the pain that would come when the mages used their healing magic. I did not focus on the dull throbbing between my temples. Instead, I fixed my eyes on Leliana, keeping my eyes and heart on her as sleep conquered me without resistance.
