36. Playing Host

I'm up with the sun the next day. Though not common, this isn't unheard of-unlike a certain mage I could name-so no one comments beyond 'Morning, Commander's and similar greetings as I cross the throne room. I nick an apple and a wedge of cheese from the kitchen as I pass through. This is probably all the breakfast I'll get today, so I'm almost glad Fade is still sleeping across the foot of my bed rather than staring at me with huge brown eyes that beg for an assurance I'll share.

I settle in my favorite place on the ramparts and bite into the apple as I watch the brilliant colors of the sunrise fade into the gorgeous blue of a clear day. This apple is a particularly good one, and juice dribbles down my chin as I tear out a bite. I swipe at the sticky juice with my sleeve.

"You tryin' to eat that or wear it, love?" The chuckled dig echoes from the past and tugs a small, sad smile to my lips. Alistair and I used to tease each other all the time when sometimes-messy meals got away from us.

"Oh, Maker, I miss you, Alistair," I whisper, turning the cheese wedge over in my hand. I know if he were here now he'd be trying to steal it. But he's not. And you said you were moving on, a voice in my head scolds. This doesn't feel like moving on. This feels more like trapped in the past.

I roll my eyes. One good memory does not mean I'm trapped in the past. "And now I'm arguing with the voices in my head. Maybe I am crazy," I mutter, taking another bite out of the apple. I shake my head and decide to think about something else. Like Hayden.

Part of me is still half convinced Anora sent her fiance here to spy on me, but I don't have any proof of that. Besides, I know what that woman can be like when she's trying to get something she wants. Maker and Andraste save the person stupid or unfortunate enough to get in her way. So Hayden's wanting to just stay out of her way while she plans their wedding actually makes sense. Still, as his host, I'll feel bad if we leave for the Blackmarsh while he's still here. But the darkspawn aren't going to take a vacation just because I have company. There was a strange and creepy... politeness to the Architect, but it's still a darkspawn. Who held us prisoner. And there's also this Mother that was mentioned by the one darkspawn in Kal'Hirol. She sounds rather ruthless.

I sigh and run one hand through my hair as the wind picks up and some of the unbound strands stick to the apple juice on my face. Much as I feel obligated to 'play host' to Hayden Cousland, the darkspawn are my top priority as a Warden. Who knows what Kristoff's found, or even if he's still alive. I'm sure Varel can handle the role of host. Besides, any excuse I can grab to put more distance between Hayden and Nathaniel-just to be safe-is good enough for me. Mind made up, I finish my breakfast and head back inside to grab my armor and see if Sigrun's awake. I want a match.

oOo

I sidetrack myself when I notice Velanna in the throne room, staring almost wistfully at a wall hanging that depicts the story of Dane and the Werewolf. I still need to actually talk to her, so I put finding Sigrun on hold for the moment and cross to join the Dalish mage. "Deciding what you think about the arl's taste in decoration?" I comment dryly.

She shakes her head. "I envy the humans for so many things, but sometimes, I envy them most for their tales. Even the youngest human child knows of at least a dozen heroes of legend. These tales are taken for granted. They are so abundant, it makes me angry sometimes," she mutters, soft note leaving her voice to make way for one of frustration. "We Dalish have lost most of our history and our legends. What we do remember, we hold dear." She looks at me as if I can't possibly understand.

Y'know, Velanna, that accusatory note better not be aimed at me. "We can share stories," I point out. "They belong to everyone."

"But does a human child value the tale of the Paragon Aeducan as much as he does Dane and the Werewolf?" she demands, gesturing at the wall hanging as if it's proof. "Stories connect us to our past. They shape a people in profound ways. Without them, we are lost." She snorts derisively, lighting brushing her fingertips over her vallaslin as she eyes my lack of tattoos. "As if a flat ear could ever understand..."

Her words and her tone make me bristle, and it takes everything in me to keep my reply civil. "Velanna, don't think just because I grew up in a human city that I don't know what the elves lost. Our hahren told us the stories, and my mother used to as well. So do both of us a favor and lose the high and mighty tone when you talk to me. Then I won't get pissed off and you won't get yourself in trouble. Sound like a fair deal?"

She nods. "Under... Understood, Commander." She sighs. "Don't you ever wish you could do something to restore this lost part of our soul? Get back what we've lost?"

"You could just make your own stories," I point out.

She snorts again. "Now you're just being ridiculous. Let's get on with the day."

I'm all too willing to end this conversation if she is. Maker, I've never met anyone so prickly. "Let's. Have you seen Sigrun yet this morning?"

She shakes her head. "Not yet, no. But she and that mage were up late last night."

I chuckle at her reference to Anders. "Alright, then. I'll see if she's still sleeping."

oOo

I all but run into Sigrun as I head down the hallway, already wearing her armor and a cheery grin. "Off to somewhere important, Sig?"

"Well, I was just gonna grab some breakfast and then go practice, Commander," she nods. "But if you need me to do somethin' else...?"

"You up to a practice match against me?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You... want to fight me?"

"You're good at what you do, Sigrun. And it's been awhile since I've had someone with a similar style to practice with."

"Rough-and-tumble-anything-goes?" she grins.

I nod. "The kind of things you only learn living on the streets."

Her grin widens. "Sure thing, Commander. Lemme get something to eat, and I'll meet you out there."

"Sounds good. I need to get my armor and swords, anyway, so no rush."

"Prepare to eat dirt," she threatens cheerily before heading for the kitchen.

I laugh before resuming course toward my room.

oOo

Sigrun is good. Very, very good. As in, she beats me. Her brand of rough-and-tumble-anything-goes is even rougher than what I'm used to, and the time it takes me to adjust is all she needs to land me face down in the dirt, her knee between my shoulder blades and her dirk just pricking the back of my neck.

"Okay," I cough, grinning almost as wide as she is, "lemme try that again."

"Sure thing, Commander," the dwarf giggles, offering me a hand up.

This time when she tried the move that landed me on my stomach last time, a dizzying flurry of attacks that ends with sweeping your legs out from under you, I duck to the side and use one of those shadow-hugging tricks Kiv taught me. The sun's up, but there are still enough shadows in this part of the courtyard for it to work. I come at Sigrun from behind after I'm sure she's lost track of me, and almost manage to disarm her. I get her to drop her axe, but for some reason that's beyond me, the grip she has on her dirk is supernaturally persistant. Calling it a death grip would be too tame even.

She yelps as her axe goes tumbling into the dust, spinning a couple times before it comes to a stop. "Good one, Commander."

" 'M not done yet," I fire back with a grin.

Sigrun ducks under my scissoring blades and dives for her axe, somehow regaining her feet, both weapons in hand, before I've caught up to her. She bats aside my next couple strikes, and makes a pair of her own that I parry.

"You're really good," I pant, spinning to the side to avoid her axe.

"Thanks. You, too," she returns. "Guess that's the reason we're both still alive, huh?"

"Yup."

I'm not entirely sure what happens or how, or even whose fault it is, but somehow we end up in a tangled mess on the ground.

"Ow." Sigrun winces as she looks at her shoulder, her grimace deepening when she tries to wiggle her fingers. "That's dislocated..."

I wince in sympathy. "Sorry."

She shrugs with her good shoulder. "These things happen." She stands and starts trying to undo the buckles on her armor. I reach to help, gingerly working free the pieces of her armor as the buckles loosen.

I turn toward the keep. "We should let And-"

"Dwarf, remember, Commander," Sigrun points out with a wry grin as her breastplate comes free and thumps against the ground. "Magic's not gonna help much."

"Oh. Right." Can't believe I forgot that. "Still, he's a healer, he might be able to help. C'mon, what's it going to hurt?"

oOo

It takes a bit more cajoling, but Sigrun finally agrees to let Anders take care of her arm rather than trying to pop it back in herself.

"What were you two doing anyway?" the mage asks, taking in the dust powdering my armor and swirling in sweaty streaks across both our faces.

"Dueling," we reply in unison.

"I won," Sigrun adds with a mischievous grin that wavers slightly when Anders' fingers brush her shoulder.

"Only the first time!" I protest when Anders starts to comment. "And I'd have won the second time if this hadn't happened."

"Maybe. Now can you fix this, please?" she asks, looking at Anders impatiently.

"Hang on, love," he chuckles. With a practiced yank, he pulls on Sigrun's arm and it pops back in the socket with an audible crack.

She sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slow as she flexes her hand. "Thanks."

"Welcome. You do realize you need to take it easy for a day or two, right?"

"No way," she protests. "I've had way worse and kept goin'. I'm not-"

"Yes, you are," I interrupt. "Sigrun, I need you in good shape for fighting the darkspawn, and having you fight just off an injury is not the best way to do that. I can bring Velanna to the Blackmarsh."

"Commander-"

"Sigrun, I've had a dislocated shoulder before. You're staying here." I hate being so strict, but when I have other options, I'm not making someone fight straight off an injury like that.

She sighs as we head back to the courtyard for her armor. "Fine. But do me a favor and take Oghren? He won't stop hitting on me. It's gross."

I laugh. "That's Oghren for you. He's not serious. I'll see what I can do." But I was already planning on taking Anders-healer-and Nathaniel-keep him away from Hayden, just in case-so I'm not sure which would be the better choice; the elf with an attitude problem or the drunken dwarf.

"Thanks. Hey, Commander?"

"Yeah?"

"When'd you dislocate your shoulder?" She bends over and picks up pieces of her armor, stacking them neatly before settling on a rock.

"While I was fighting the Blight, we had to go into the Deep Roads-"

"To look for Branka," she interrupts. "We heard in the Legion."

"While we were down there, we ran into this ogre..."

oOo

"That all of them?" I ask, stepping around the three shriek corpses sprawled on the tunnel floor.

Alistair nods. "It was just the three."

"And nobody's hurt?" I double check as I sheath my swords.

"We're all fine, dear," Wynne assures me.

"Alright, then." I spin a half-circle to get my bearings. It's even easier to get lost down here, even without factoring the constant claustrophobia and chittering darkspawn voices on the edge of my sanity. "This way." I head off down the tunnel.

"Rahna, wait-" Alistair's warning is cut off by the roar of an ogre lurking a short way down a side tunnel as it sees me.

"Oh, sod," I mutter as it lowers its head to charge at me. The tunnels are so narrow even dodging to the side doesn't get me all the way out of danger, until Alistair charges past me, yelling at the top of his lungs to draw its attention away from me.

The ogre roars and bats him aside in a clatter of armor meeting stone, twisting to glare at Morrigan as her lightning spell finds its mark.

"Alistair, you alright?" I holler, finding my voice after a moment of panic as I slice the monster's ankles.

"Fine, love," he promises as he gets to his feet and puts himself between the ogre and the two mages. The ogre is less than pleased with this development, and reaches out one gnarled purplish-blue hand to snatch the warrior off the ground.

"Alistair!" I tamp down the panic, rage, fear before they cloud my judgment as the ogre pummels him. Again and again and again. He's not moving. The icy tendrils of panic ooze free around the edges of my control. Unable to fight any longer, I follow the leading of the fear-terror, really-at the thought of losing him and leap onto the ogre's chest, digging my swords in deep.

It bellows in pain, drops Alistair, and swipes at me. The clawed hand closes around my bicep and it tears me off, flinging me against the wall even as blood seeps between its fangs and it stumbles.

The way it swings me around is an awkward angle, and I hear something pop as I slam against the wall of the tunnel. Dear Maker, that hurts... Head spinning, entire right arm screaming in agony, I struggle to my feet. The ogre crashes to the ground, its head bouncing off the tunnel floor before it lays still.

"You... alright, love?" Alistair asks, rubbing his jaw and spitting out a mouthful of blood.

"Well, I'm alive." I hiss in pain as I try to move my arm, amazed that even after the beating he took, he's still more worried about me. "It's just bruises. And I think my right shoulder's dislocated."

"Sit still, young lady," Wynne admonishes as she summons a healing spell for Alistair. "You're next."

"Oh, joy," I mutter, knowing she's right.

After Wynne's wrenched my arm back into the socket and done what she can to cut down the residual pain, Alistair pulls me in for a kiss. "Thanks, love."

"For what?" I play innocent, waiting for him to say it.

"You know what," he laughs, tugging one of my pigtails before whispering playfully, "My hero."

"Ooooh, that." I grin. "You can thank me properly when we get back to Orzammar and can have some privacy." I saunter off down the tunnel, enjoying how very red his face has gone a little more than I probably should.

oOo

"Wow," is Sigrun's only comment when I finish.

"Yeah. I have many, many good reasons to hate ogres, but that fight is pretty near the top of the list," I reply before standing. "I need to go get ready to leave."

"You're going now? When the queen's fiance's still here?" She raises an eyebrow at me.

"Darkspawn trump politics," I shrug. "Hopefully Hayden will understand." I grin evilly at her. "And you can help Varel play host."

For some reason she doesn't seem too happy with that idea.

A/N: Oh, Maker, that was fun to write! I wanted somebody to beat Rahna, I love Sigrun, and there ya go! Yes, it was partially because I wanted a good reason to not bring Sigrun to the Blackmarsh(purely for variety's sake... Velanna must come), but I also just wanted to write her being awesome again. :) The flashback wasn't planned, but I decided to run with it when it popped up. So, off to Blackmarsh next time. I hope. Unless it gets derailed somehow...