AN: Alright, after some serious editing on my beta's and my part, here's the new chapter. This is what happens when i get cocky, though. XD I thought my chapter was good, when it turned out it was a hot mess. Thanks a million to RomanticVoltaire for her patience in helping me make sense of this. :) ~Sin
Chapter 36 A New Reason to Fight
"Was the sun always that bright?" Conrí wondered aloud as he squinted his eyes against the midday light.
After weathering the worst of the Fereldan winter in Orzammar, the group spent one more month in the stone city following their return from the Deep Roads before departing. To the group's eternal worry, they discovered they had been in the darkspawn infested tunnels for nearly twice that amount of time. With the Archdemon on the move, they had to wonder just how much time they had left to unite Fereldan against the horde.
Despite his initial surliness, Oghren soon opened up a bit to the Wardens, Conrí especially. Admittedly, this may have just been from Conrí's tolerance of the brash drunk's behavior when few others seemed able to stomach it for too long. A few weeks into their stay, Conrí began learning the dwarf's berserker discipline — if one could use such a term for the set of skills required to harness rage and destroy anything before oneself. Conrí was, or so Oghren decided after a few lessons, a natural, able to turn that killing rage on in a moment's notice.
"Something's had you steamed up for a long time, eh?" Oghren had said.
Conrí had nodded with a sour, "You could say that," before they continued their training
"I don't remember it being quite so illuminated out here," Leliana was agreeing now, shielding her face.
"Sun, I feel betrayed by you!" Xolana whined. "I thought you were my friend!"
Garik and Serena stood in the background, mumbling irritably about how the humans and elves all thought they had felt the first time they stepped up to the surface. Oghren, however, was not quite daring to take that last step beyond the doors yet, staring up at the sky in a mixture of wonder and sheer terror.
"Well, excuse me a moment," Tira sighed before moving off. "I need to find a tree to hug."
Conrí chuckled as Xolana desperately bit back a "tree hugger" comment, turning to Oghren instead. "So, you going to come out now or what?" she asked the drunken berserker.
"Yeah, yeah just... just gimme a minute," Oghren grunted before trailing off, mumbling.
"Sure. Take your time," Conrí nodded, remembering Serena and Garik's first steps beyond the Deep Roads.
"By the stone..." Oghren wheezed. "It feels like I'm gonna fall off the world with all that sky up there!"
"I remember that feeling," Serena nodded. "It passes."
"You know, the funny thing about gravity is, it doesn't stop working just because you no longer have a roof above your head," Xolana pointed out with a bit of exasperation.
Tristan elbowed her. "Be nice, Amell. As if you knew what to do with yourself at first when you finally got out of the tower."
"She was dumbstruck all the way across the lake," Erin snickered.
"Thanks, guys," Xolana pouted.
Tira returned a moment later with bits of leaves in her hair. "I feel better now. Did I miss something?"
"No," Xolana shook her head, oggling the state of the Ranger's hair with an increasingly uncouth smirk gracing her features. "Just hugging, and just trees, right?"
"There may have been a chaste kiss involved," Tira admitted, smiling at Erin. "Don't worry ma Vhenan. No tree could ever replace you."
Xolana, pretending to be utterly distressed, dramatic hand to forehead and all, cried out, "Oh, why most you hurt me so, my love?"
Complete with a cheeky wink at Erin, of course.
"Not quite the reaction I was considering, but quite," Erin droned, utterly unimpressed. "I don't know how I would feel if I truly was replaced by a tree."
"Funny you ladies should mention it," Zevran cut in with a grin. "I did once encounter a lady with really rather insatiable appetites..."
"Oh shut up, elf, before I throw up all over your fancy boots," Oghren barked.
"You scoundrel!" Zevran mock gasped. "Still insisting on maintaining the elf/dwarf rivalry, I see?"
"Sod that," Oghren grumbled. "Princess and Lady Tree Hugger have that covered. But how's a dwarf to focus simultaneously on wild tales of debauchery and not falling into the sky!?"
"Do not worry, my stocky little friend! I shall hold you close and safe should I notice you start to float away." Zevran said cheerfully, while Oghren mumbled obscenities.
Xolana, having been silenced by the ensuing conversation and staring at the men's banter together with Erin and Tira, finally addressed the women without looking away from the boys. "I sense the beginnings of a beautiful bromance. This is the stuff of dirty romance novels, you know that, right?"
Tristan, hearing his longtime friend speak, groaned in exasperation. "Oh by the Maker, there she goes again. What was that term you coined? Something utterly ridiculous... 'fan-fiction?!' Just please, Amell, do everyone here a favor and don't go there again."
Conrí having heard enough, head-slapped Zevran and Oghren and sent Xolana a 'quit while you're behind' look. While Oghren and Zevran grumbled and moved apart again, the Blood Mage made a beeline for Zevran. "So, about that woman you mentioned. I do believe there was a tree involved..."
"Xolana."
Xolana yelped and ducked away to escape Conrí's ire, but not before mouthing to Zevran, "Later! Don't you dare forget!" with a smirk. Zevran smirked back and nodded with a wink.
Conrí shook his head. "It's always the crazy ones..."
"Don't even pretend you don't love it by now!" Erin chuckled.
"Is it finally going to give the order to move out, or must we continue suffering this mind-numbing chatter?" Shayle asked with an agitated rumble.
"Ah Shayle. After all we found out in the Deep, your attitude makes much more sense," Conrí chuckled. "But, you have a point. We have a lot of ground to cover, and not a lot of time to do it. Let's go."
[Flashback]
"'Shayle of House Cadash…'" Shayle mumbled as she examined the rubbings taken from the memorial in Caridin's fortress. They had left Bownammar behind them about an hour before, and had begun making their way back to Orzammar. "Is that who I once was? I find this difficult to believe."
Xolana sent the golem a quizzical look. "You're doubting Caridin now?"
"No," Shayle said softly, her tone surprising the group. "I do not doubt him. I simply… cannot remember. If I was this Shayle of House Cadash as Caridin said, there must be some evidence of my existence remaining. I must find it."
"Perhaps the Shaperate will have some records?" Serena suggested, though her tone was uncertain.
"There is another way," Shayle shook her massive stone head. "What Caridin said, it has allowed me to remember one thing. I believe I know where Cadash Thaig is."
"We can head there, if you like, Shayle," Conrí suggested. "We're in the Deeps anyway."
"Its offer is appreciated," Shayle nodded. "As is the practicality. If I could see its map, I could show it. If we can journey there soon, I am most curious as to what we might find."
A few days later and a ways south of Caridin's Cross, Conrí yanked his blade from the corpse of a hurlock. It seemed the darkspawn used the ruins of the Thaig as a resting place during marches to other areas of the Deep Roads. Little was tainted, and there was no disgusting growths on the walls.
"This is it," Shayle breathed, touching an ancient pillar, weathered with time. "Cadash Thaig."
"This is where you're from?" Tristan asked.
"Perhaps. It may also be where I was found. These ruins are always overrun by vermin. There may be something further in, however."
"Well, if there's fightin' to be done, I'm yer dwarf, Stone Britches," Oghren grunted.
"I am so pleased," Shayle droned, her familiar drawl creeping back.
The group continued deeper into the Thaig, weapons kept close in case of danger.
"Was this a home once?" Shayle wondered aloud as they passed a surprisingly undamaged building. "Did live here?"
Though the darkspawn's presence was felt little on the stones of the Thaig, there were still a good deal of them. To prevent their filth from infecting the area, the mages burned the corpses of all darkspawn slain as they moved through the old dwarven settlement.
"I see nothing," Shayle mumbled as they crossed a bridge. "Whatever was once here is gone."
Darkspawn weren't the only vermin they happened across. Deepstalkers and even a few brontos accosted them as they made their way through the Thaig.
"Crawling with filth," Shayle sneered as she crushed a deepstalker under her massive foot. "There." She eventually pointed to a massive statue of a paragon, likely Cadash himself, in the distance. "That may be what I seek."
"I damn sure hope so," Conrí grunted tossing aside the corpse of another deepstalker, which he had just moments before snapped the neck of.
"As do I," Shayle agreed, stomping off.
Unlike the previous skirmishes, the darkspawn near the statue where joined by an Ogre Alpha, but Shayle proved once again why innumerable dwarves gave themselves up to be encased in stone or steel. Her heavy granite fists splintered the bones of even the mighty Ogre Alpha, its bulk doing little to protect it from the determined golem. Soon enough, Shayle had wounded its arm so greatly that it couldn't catch Tira as she vaulted off the Golem's shoulder and stabbed her blade directly into its blackened heart. The beast toppled with a roar as Tira wrenched her blade free and drove it into the bony crest on the Ogre's head, splitting it and piercing the brain.
"A skilled maneuver," Shayle commented. "Though I do not appreciate being used as a stepping stone."
"Don't take it personally, Shayle," Conrí chuckled. "Bloody elves do it to me, too."
"That's what you get for being such a lug of a warrior, Commander," Xolana snickered.
Shayle ignored the ensuing good natured bickering and approached the statue.
"What is this?" she mumbled. "This… this I remember. It has dates and names. This is to honor those who volunteered, those who became Golems. And there is my name. Shayle of House Cadash. Just as Caridin said. I remember now. I remember Shayle. That… was me."
"You do? That's wonderful!" Leliana gushed.
"Wonderful to remember being a soft, squishy creature of flesh?" Shayle snarked. "Perhaps. I will need to think on these things I have learned. Perhaps I will speak to it of them soon," she turned to look at Conrí so he knew he was the 'it' Shayle referred to. "For now, let us carry on as we have."
[End Flashback]
"I have a question for the Silver Dwarf, if it will indulge me," Shayle queried as the group trudged through the snow.
"Of course," Serena nodded.
"It chose to side with Caridin and destroy the Anvil of the Void," Shayle rumbled. "I agree with its decision, and yet the Paragon Branka was the reason it ventured into the Deep Roads. Why did it choose to defy her? It could not have know for certain that Caridin would be able to assist it with its kin."
"You vouched for Caridin," Serena said simply. "Anyone you trust is someone I believe I can."
Shayle seemed very taken aback. "I… I am pleased then. I had no idea that was why it did that. At any rate, I wanted to thank it. It gave Caridin the end he wanted and I am pleased to have been a part of it. I will have to think on Caridin's words to me. It was… a great deal to absorb. But for now, let us go on."
"Xolana?" Tristan approached his friend during a quiet moment after they'd set up camp in the bannorn.
Xolana, deep in thought over some tome, looked up, her eyes slightly unfocused from the change in attention. "Hmm? What's up?"
"Would you mind walking with Morrigan and me?" Tristan asked, shuffling his feet nervously. "We need to talk to you — away from your redheaded guardians."
Xolana raised an eyebrow as she eyed his nervous demeanour and eventually stood up with a sigh, putting the book away. "I'm not going to like this, am I? But the least I can do is listen to whatever it is you both need. Lead the way."
Tristan led her a ways into the woods where Morrigan was waiting. "You remember me mentioning that I found Flemeth's Grimoire in the circle, right?" the witch began without preamble.
Xolana nodded. "Yeah, I remember," she nodded to Morrigan as they approached. "And you were studying it, weren't you, Morrigan?"
"Indeed," Morrigan acknowledged. "And what I found... it disturbs me greatly."
"This doesn't bode well. What did you find?" Xolana asked, concerned.
"I had always wondered how Flemeth lived for so long. You know the tales of her many daughters, yes?" When her friend nodded, the witch continued. "I had never met a sister nor has my mother spoken of any; and now I know why. They are all Flemeth."
Xolana stared in confusion. "I'm not sure I like where you're going with this."
"When her body becomes old and wizened, Flemeth will raise a daughter, and when she is old enough, take possession of her body," Morrigan elaborated. "I recognize all of it... the training, the lessons... I am to be the next host."
"I... shit. You think she's raised you to possess you?" Xolana was stunned.
"That is primarily what the tome entails," Morrigan grit her teeth. "There can be only one recourse. Flemeth has to die."
Xolana stared in horror. "You are certain there's no other interpretation of this tome? Because what you're asking, whilst understandable, would be no simple task, I hope you realize that."
"I am quite certain," Morrigan stated firmly. "And I know this would be no small feat, but... I need your help, Xolana."
Xolana pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought hard. "It just makes no sense — send you off with the Wardens, on a suicide mission? If she went through such a long, painstaking process to — to what? Prepare you?" Xolana shuddered at the thought. It was the concept of a mother possessing her daughter that convinced her, making her look up at Morrigan with determination. "I'll do what I can to help."
"Thank you," Morrigan breathed. "I regret to ask more of you but... it may or may not have slipped your notice, but I am not exactly the most popular among our companions. I need your help convincing them."
Xolana nodded again. "Yes. The three of us alone, whilst powerful, would still be no match for Flemeth — especially if what you said is true. But even if I agree to help you, not everyone will follow."
"I know," Morrigan acknowledged. "However, if you convince the Commander, most of the Wardens will follow, even if they dislike me."
"That is true. I... would you mind if I spend a little time studying the grimoire myself?" Xolana asked. "It will help your case if I don't just take your word for it but can explain from my own understanding why we need to do this."
"Can you read old Arcanum?" Morrigan asked, slightly skeptical.
"Mostly, yes," Xolana admitted, refraining from bristling at Morrigan's skepticism. "Enough to get the gist, anyway."
Morrigan pulled the tome from her pack. "While there is no time limit on this, I urge you to learn what you can quickly."
Xolana took the ancient book with great care and looked at the cover with concentrated furrows on her brow. "I won't take long over it, I swear. We have a quiet journey for a few days yet, and both Conrí and Leliana still fret after I was injured, so I can get on the cart to read for a while even as we travel. We will speak to them tomorrow night, before we even reach the Hinterlands of Redcliffe."
"I am grateful," Morrigan sighed.
"I know this is a lot of trouble to go through, Amell, so I am too," Tristan agreed.
"It's ok. If it means your safety, it's worth it," Xolana turned to leave but then stopped halfway and slowly turned back to Morrigan. "I know you say that our companions don't like you, but I think you underestimate how readily they would defend you if necessary. And I also wanted you to know — I think of you as a friend. Not just because you're in a relationship with Tristan. For who you are. We'll sort this mess out, together. I promise." Xolana turned again and made her way back to her tent, grimoire carefully cradled to her chest.
For once, Morrigan had no idea what to say and didn't protest as Tristan wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
The next evening, after reading most of the day, Xolana shut the tome with a heavy sigh and rested her head against it. "What on Thedas have we gotten ourselves into..."
She rose from her place near the fire and made her way to Conrí with the grimoire. "Conrí?" she muttered quietly to avoid attracting unwanted attention from the others traveling with them. "I need to talk to you about something. Could we...?" she continued, indicating to a more private area nearby.
Conrí, about to make a smart comment, noted how serious his fellow Warden was. "Sure," he set down his ale skin and stood. "Come on. There's a small clearing not far."
"Thank you," Xolana mumbled, walking with him still clutching the tome. She sighed heavily when they arrived and stared at the leafless tree on the cover for a moment before looking up at Conrí. "So, this is Flemeth's grimoire. I've been studying it a bit. You remember Tristan found it for Morrigan?"
"I remember it being mentioned, yeah," Conrí nodded. "You look troubled. What's wrong?"
"Well, it seems Morrigan got a bit more than we bargained for out of this tome. It describes many spells, procedures, the lot. But it seems that the ultimate point of almost the entire grimoire is to prepare a host for possession. We're pretty certain that Flemeth has lived so long by—" Xolana swallowed hard. "—by raising up her daughters, and possessing them. It seems Morrigan would be the next in line."
Conrí's eyes widened. "I see. You are sure of this?"
"I read the grimoire myself to verify," Xolana nodded. "I will admit my Old Arcanum isn't as good as Morrigan's, but there is no other way to interpret what I did get from it. Also, Morrigan recognizes exactly the teachings and upbringing she received herself; it is mirrored in this tome. It is to be her."
Conrí sighed and ran his fingers through his loose hair. "So what do we do about it? Is there a way to prevent possession?"
Xolana mirrored the Commander's sigh. "That's the part that's most unclear to me. There's something about conditions to the possession beyond the preparations described, but I can't make it out well enough to tell you what they are supposed to be. Ultimately, though, whatever Flemeth is doing is... unnatural. You can cry about blood magic and the potential for mind control however much you want, but this — this literally extinguishes the host. Morrigan's body will be taken over, and all the things that make her as a person will be gone. This... I think we need a permanent solution to this. Just to think that such magic exists..."
"Great," Conrí pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what do we do about this?"
"I..." Xolana mimicked him again, feeling a headache coming on. "I would not ask this lightly, Conrí, but Tristan, Morrigan and I agree. Flemeth needs to die."
Conrí rubbed his forehead. "I was afraid you would say that. Sodding void. How do we go about that?"
"Well, it certainly won't be easy," Xolana admitted. "But I would recommend we ask Morrigan. If you are really willing to help us."
"As much as she grates on my nerves sometimes, I wouldn't wish possession on her," Conrí said, slightly offended at Xolana's insinuation.
"Thank you," Xolana nodded gratefully. "Shall I go get her?"
Conrí nodded with a slight groan. "Yeah. I'm kind of wishing I hadn't left my ale at camp."
Xolana gave him an indulgent smile. "I promise we'll get you back to that afterwards," she strolled off and returned a few minutes later with Tristan and Morrigan.
"Does Xolana speak the truth?" Morrigan asked, her voice lacking the usual bite. "You wish to help us? I must admit, I did not believe you would."
"You don't ask for small things," Conrí grouched. "Do you have any suggestions about killing Flemeth?"
"While I believe it unlikely such a plan would succeed, I would recommend to surprise her rather than offer an outright fight," Morrigan suggested. "She is powerful, and dangerous."
"I really don't think that will work," Xolana argued. "She will know that we are coming, and I doubt that she will think we came for some tea and a chat."
"This is also true," Morrigan acknowledged. "But whatever you do, there is one thing..."
"And that is?" Conrí sighed, bracing for more ill news.
"I cannot be there when you confront her," Morrigan announced.
Xolana looked to her friend, dumbstruck. "...Morri?"
"I am uncertain how this magic takes control," Morrigan explained. "And how much ritual is necessary for the actual possession. It could be that she already has me prepared and will immediately possess me the moment she dies should I just be in the vicinity. I cannot risk being too close."
"Balls," Conrí shook his head. "Well, let's hope magebane works on her."
"We will need to think of a strategy — and before I forget, Morrigan, here," Xolana held out the grimoire. "Thank you for letting me read it. It is yours."
Morrigan took the old book back carefully. "You have my thanks."
"Who is going to come with us? The three of us," Tristan indicated Conrí, Xolana and himself. "Will already be a force to be reckoned with, but against Flemeth..." he trailed off.
"Maybe Shayle and Sten at least," Conrí suggested.
Xolana nodded in agreement. "Heavy hitters. But will Sten agree?"
"A dangerous, unleashed mage who can turn into a dragon?" Conrí chuckled dryly. "He may even skip."
A chuckle escaped Xolana's lips before she brought herself back under control.
"A charming image," Morrigan snarked. "And yet, I must thank you. I know what I ask of you is dangerous."
"We have to make a stop at Redcliffe first. And we have... more business in that direction anyway," Conrí hedged.
"Of course," Morrigan agreed. "I would ask you do not delay, but I am grateful you are considering it at all."
Xolana put a hand on Morrigan's shoulder. "Relax, Morrigan. We're going to take care of it."
"It will take some planning," Conrí agreed. "I'll get Blair and Zev to work on some vials of Magebane. Concentrated if we're lucky. Don't worry; I'll keep it far from you three."
"Oh. Good," Tristan sighed, having tensed the moment the mana sapping concoction was mentioned. "'Cause I was worried you were getting ideas." Xolana elbowed the elven mage lightly.
Conrí rolled his eyes. "Like you and Soldierbane, yes?"
Xolana smirked as Tristan tried to find an excuse. "He got you there," she snickered.
"The next time you leave an open vial of it anywhere near me, my boot will become intimately acquainted with your arse," Conrí warned with a wolfish grin.
"I — uh — yes sir," Tristan swallowed nervously.
"Don't think that doesn't apply to you two as well," Conrí shot at the pair of women, hearing their restrained chuckling.
The women forced themselves to stop giggling. "Yes, Commander," Xolana purred affectionately, causing Conrí to roll his eyes again.
The night before Conrí estimated they'd be returning to Redcliffe village, the party stopped at an inn near the border of the Arling. After the extreme comforts of Orzammar, the bedrolls and tents seemed more uncomfortable then they remembered, so when they stumbled on the roadside tavern, the group, bar Shayle and Sten who truly didn't seem to care where they stayed the night, were relieved to say the least.
After everyone had settled into their rooms, Conrí approached Xolana at the tavern downstairs and pulled gently on her earlobe to get her attention. Xolana turned her head, surprised. "Awfully gentle today, Commander?"
"I think it's time we talked," said Conrí.
Xolana's face quickly turned to suspicion. "Wait a second — whatever you think I did, it wasn't me."
Conrí raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?"
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing," Xolana protested. "And yet people always seem to try and shove blame my way. What is this about exactly, anyway?"
"Sounds like someone has a guilty conscience," Conrí chuckled. "Though that isn't what we need to talk about. Leliana's got us a table away from prying ears."
Xolana raised an eyebrow herself but slowly stood to follow. "Ok?" she began, dubious expression firmly set in her features. "Seriously, Conrí, what's going on?"
"You remember the talk we had in Redcliffe before we left for Orzammar?" Conrí asked quietly.
Xolana looked around discretely as the pair walked and then nodded. "I do," she said a bit warily.
"Since we actually have time to talk about it at length..." Conrí scratched his beard as he contemplated briefly on how to word what came next. "It may be a good idea to do so before returning to Redcliffe."
"Conrí, I..." Xolana fell silent again, shaking her head. "Actually, let's sit down with Leli as you originally suggested."
Conrí lead them over to a small table near enough to the fire to feel the warmth, but far enough from the bar to avoid eavesdropping. Leliana smiled warmly at the pair as they approached. "I ordered a few mugs of ale."
"Trying to get me drunk already?" Xolana asked in good humor.
"Not at the moment," the bard giggled and pushed a mug towards Xolana. The mage sat down and took the tankard between her hands but just held it for the moment whilst looking between Conrí and Leli curiously. "So, you wanted to talk. I'll let you guys tell me what exactly was on your mind first, then?"
"We wanted to talk about you and us," Leliana explained. "It would be obvious to almost anyone there is an attraction and affection between the three of us."
"Well yes, but from what I understood, what the others would think was a problem for you both," Xolana pointed out.
"It may be annoying," Conrí allowed. "But if annoying would stop me, I would have listened to everything Alistair and Wynne said."
Xolana chuckled, still playing with the mug. "I suppose that's true," the mage looked between the two across from her with curiosity now. "So. I'm sure you know very well, if you two ask me to bed, I won't say no. Is that what this is about?"
"Well, if that was the only reason, we would have just asked," Conrí admitted.
"Commander," Xolana chuckled. "I am shocked and scandalized. You can't possibly be suggesting what I think you're suggesting."
Conrí sat back in his chair, a rumbling chuckle echoing in his chest. "And if we are?"
Xolana raised a curious eyebrow and finally drank a sip of her ale. "Well it's certainly... unusual. I'm still not sure I believe you're quite serious."
"Xolana, if this was just about sex, why would we, of all people, not come out and say it?" Leliana asked with some exasperation.
"Ah, but it's not that my lovely Leliana. I am certain you would have no problems asking for what you wanted," Xolana smirked and took another small sip. "No it's just that — I suppose I am surprised you're even suggesting it. Given how unusual the situation is and, well, I suppose I saw you both as very exclusive."
"Ordinarily, you'd be right," Leliana nodded. "Anyone else, and we probably wouldn't be having this conversation. The unique circumstance here is you."
Xolana looked up very curiously now. "I would joke and say I'm flattered now, but... You have me at a disadvantage. Could you explain?"
"We understand the situation would be unusual, to say the least. But if you're willing..." Conrí left his statement hang.
The dusky mage looked between the both of them a couple of times to verify that she really was hearing correctly "You are both completely serious?" she asked. "You're actually asking me for—" she sighed and decided not to dance around the subject anymore. "A relationship? Between the three of us?"
Conrí sent a smug smirk at Leliana. "She finally said it," he said and turned back to Xolana. "Yes. We're very serious."
The mage stared, gob smacked, for a few moments before looking down into her mug for a second or two, as if contemplating. After a moment, she took a deep sip, mumbling into her ale. "Did you say something?" Conrí prompted, taking a sip from his own tankard.
Xolana put the mug down and just laughed as all other reactions failed her. "I was just trying to express that this may well end up going down as the stupidest thing we've ever done," her tone turned melodramatic and theatrical. "Look at the brave, heroic Wardens go! They march forth to slay the Archdemon against all odds! Oh, and while they're at it, let's not forget the Void-forsaken relationship drama they manage to stumble into."
"I think getting bitten by a werewolf might top that, honestly," Conrí snickered.
"...occupational hazard?" Xolana tried weakly.
"Had I been bitten by a genlock, then yes, we could write it off as that," Conrí rolled his eyes.
"Or perhaps dragging the group to Denerim into a trap laid by my old bardmaster," Leliana droned, mischievous amusement flickering in her crystal blue eyes.
Xolana groaned exaggeratedly. "Alright, so we've done a lot of stupid things so far and I'm sure there will be more to come yet, but even so," she looked back up at the two of them, a smile coming over her face. "Let's do it. Let's be stupid. And I guess... we can figure out the details as we go along, yes?"
"That sounds like a plan I can support," Leliana smiled sweetly. "And before I forget," the lean redhead got up and moved around the table. "I believe I owe you this," with no more prompting, Leliana leaned down and kissed Xolana.
Xolana, taken off guard by the action, stiffened a tiny bit in at first and looked over to Conrí to gauge his reaction, though not really bothering to break the contact with Leliana to do so. When she realized that he truly didn't seem to mind, Xolana pulled Leliana up against her and returned the kiss. "Heh, I guess I really was missing out," the mage said, with a cheeky grin when they eventually broke apart for air.
Leliana poked the mage's flushed face with a playful scowl. "That cheek of yours may just earn you a spanking, Xolana."
Xolana caught Leliana's fingertip in her lips with a smirk. "I'm scared," she snickered.
"You're going to be trouble," Leliana giggled. "Why don't you go say hello to Conrí. He has been rather patient with us."
Xolana nodded, smirk still firmly in place. "You're right, he has," she looked over to Conrí and detached herself from Leliana enough to face him instead. After a moment she stood up and straddled his lap. "Commander," she intoned with mock respect, grinning broadly before kissed him. Conrí chuckled in his throat again before grabbing Xolana's waist and pulling her closer, deepening the kiss.
Xolana mewled quietly into the kiss and tilted her head slightly, allowing better access. After just a few moments, she pulled away enough to reach for Leliana and pull her closer as well, dropping a few pecks and nips on her neck, then on Conrí's. Leliana nuzzled Xolana's ear. "I hate to be the voice of reason, but perhaps we should take this somewhere else."
Xolana forced herself to pull away and nodded. "You're right."
Conrí stood up, sliding Xolana off his lap, and gestured to the stairs. "Come on. Before the others catch on."
Xolana grinned. "Go on ahead and I'll follow when it's clear." Leliana moved up the stairs quickly and quietly, stifling giggles. Conrí followed as softly as his frame would allow. Xolana waited for a while until it seemed safe and then went up the stairs herself, making a show of yawning when she got the feeling that someone may have seen her.
When she entered the room the pair had taken for themselves, she found Leliana straddling Conrí's waist as he lay on the bed, kissing him deeply and running her hands over his bare chest. All the while his hands were pushing her shirt up slightly and massaging her belly. They both looked up as Xolana entered the room.
"Took you long enough," Conrí chuckled.
"It's called being careful you great old brute," Xolana shot back as she approached, biting her lip at the scene.
Leliana smiled and beckoned the mage closer. "Come here."
Xolana obeyed, kneeling on the bed as well and capturing Leliana's mouth in a searing kiss.
The group's return to Redcliffe was greeted with much fanfare, with many of the inhabitants asking for news from Orzammar, either because of trade deals with the dwarves or news on the proposed alliance. After nearly an hour, the group managed to make their way to the castle. Teagan greeted them at the portcullis, shaking the Warden's hands enthusiastically. He led them eagerly to the throne room where Eamon was waiting.
After a brief celebration, Eamon decided to get to business. "I understand you have gathered all the allies you could," he said. "I would prefer not giving Loghain time to consider, but it is up to you. I do not wish to go to Denerim unless you are with me."
Before Conrí could reply, Erin stepped to his side and whispered quickly into his ear. Conrí frowned slightly, though it seemed a weary frown rather than outright displeased or troubled. "Aye. It will give the dwarves time to gather here as well," he said quietly. He turned back to Eamon. "There is one thing remaining before we can attend the Landsmeet, Eamon. And I'm afraid it cannot be delayed."
Eamon frowned. "We have little time to waste, Warden Commander. The Landsmeet may well decide the future of this country. What is so important you'd put it off?"
"There is one more ghost in our past that must be laid to rest," Conrí rumbled as he gazed at his Warden-pendant, half enclosed in his hand. His eyes were firmly on the crystal stained with darkspawn blood, but his mind had ventured to the past.
"*~*~*~*~
Several weeks earlier — on the road from Denerim to Haven
It was clear the escaped prisoner did not have long to live; the marks of torture and severe imprisonment were obvious under the thin, ragged clothing the man had managed to acquire to cover himself. Bann Loren's men had inflicted several deep wounds, any one of which would prove to be mortal. Conrí looked to the mages, but they all shook their heads.
"There's not much I can do, save ease his pain," Wynne replied sadly, before all of them started with shock as the man slowly and uneasily pulled himself into a sitting position.
"Doesn't matter, good mistress. I'll be gone soon, and after all I've been through, I'll be glad of it. Still, I thank you for your aid; I hadn't expected the Bann's men to notice my escape so quickly. I suppose I should have been quieter about it, but I had to find you Wardens. But once they got wind that someone was asking too many questions, they came for me. I tried to hide, to get away, but there wasn't time… and now, I'm a dead man."
"Wasn't time?" Conrí asked, curious at the man's choice of words.
"You were at Ostagar. For me, it was this, or die in some darkspawn's belly, or be hung as a deserter. My name's Elric. I served with King Cailan; he was my friend, you understand?" Conrí nodded, now remembering this man. He rarely left Cailan's side. "I fled the battlefield when Loghain betrayed us. I abandoned my men and they died… Maker, all that time in Bann Loren's prison, and all I could think of was what they suffered on that dark night at Ostagar..."
"We don't always get to choose our deaths," Conrí muttered sadly.
"No, but they say the Maker has things happen for a purpose. If it's you who sees me to my rest, maybe things do happen for a reason. Listen carefully; the king entrusted me with the key to the chest where he kept his most important possessions, items vital to the morale, stability and security of Ferelden. If anything happened to him, Cailan said it was vital I give the key, the chest and its contents to the Wardens," Elric concluded.
"If he wanted the Grey Wardens to have it, why didn't he simply give the key to Duncan?" Erin asked, kneeling next to her brother.
"He never got the chance; Duncan was so busy dealing with you and the other new recruits and keeping Loghain off his back. And considering the tensions regarding Loghain and the Grey Wardens, maybe Cailan felt openly doing so would only create more friction. Still, whatever his reasons, I'm the one Cailan entrusted it to."
"What's in this chest that's so important?" Serena asked.
"I know that's where Cailan kept his father's sword; the one he always swore he'd slay the Archdemon with," Alistair explained, and Conrí couldn't help but feel intrigued by the possibilities. The sword of Maric; a great heirloom and symbol of the royal house of Ferelden. If they could recover it — to see such a powerful weapon recaptured would bring a powerful boost to morale.
"The sword was not all; the chest was also where Cailan kept the documents with which he was planning an alliance between Ferelden and Orlais against the Blight," Elric added and Conrí felt a great surge of intrigue. He remembered hearing rumors of the alliance Cailan had been planning at Ostagar, but to know it was confirmed—
Could that have been the reason for Loghain's treachery? he wondered. Or is there more to this than we know?
The urge to learn more suddenly struck him; it felt like a good idea that they learn what was contained within that chest.
"Do you still have this key?" he asked, extending a hand.
At this, Elric gave a wry smile and chuckled softly, which swiftly turned into a choking cough. "The Maker works in mysterious ways, eh? I suppose it's for the best, though; if I had kept it, it'd be in Bann Loren's or more likely Loghain's hands by now!"
"What?" Wynne barked, affronted. "You said Cailan entrusted it to you! How could you fail your duty?"
"I feared I'd lose it on the battlefield, so I stashed it in a little hiding place of mine in the royal encampment; in the rubble at the base of a statue by the Circle's encampment. It's probably still there."
"You don't think the darkspawn might have found it?" Garik asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I hope not!" Elric gasped, a look of horror crossing his features. "Maker's breath, would they even know what to do with it if they had?"
"The darkspawn are far more cunning than we give them credit for, but if Cailan trusted that lock with his secrets, I'd wager the contents of that chest are still intact," Wynne replied thoughtfully.
Elric let out a breath of relief, and then winced as a fresh wave of pain shot through his body. Anyone could tell he didn't have long left. "Please Wardens. I know that after what happened there, it is probably the last place you would wish to return to, but please, go back to Ostagar. It is vital that the king's documents do not fall into the wrong hands; the damage a lesser noble could do with them! To say nothing of someone like Loghain; it would be unimaginable!"
Conrí had to agree — if Cailan's intended alliance with Orlais became common knowledge, it would tear the country apart. Half of Ferelden would view Cailan's intentions as a betrayal of everything his father had fought for, while the others would see Loghain's actions as a deliberate effort to destroy any chance at peaceful reconciliation between the two nations.
"As for Maric's sword, it is too powerful to be left to be pawed over by those monsters; same goes for the king's other arms and his armor. And," at this, Elric's voice became a desperate gasp, as if he knew the end was almost upon him and he had to finish before it claimed him. "As my last request, if you happen to find Cailan's body, see it off. No matter what people say of him, he was still our king, and a good man. He does not deserve to be left to rot amidst the darkspawn's filth."
Elric's eyes rolled up in his head shortly after, and his last breath escaped his lips. Conrí reached out gently and closed the poor sod's eyes. "Maker guide you to your rest, Elric," Conrí intoned solemnly. As he pulled back from the body, Xolana snapped her fingers, and fire erupted around the corpse. It wasn't much of a funeral, but considering how pressed they were for time, it was the best that could be done.
"Once the business in Redcliffe is taken care of, we head for Ostagar," Conrí ordered. "Elric is right. We can't let the darkspawn get their hands on that sword, and no one should see Cailan's personal messages."
"You'll be taking me along, won't you?" Alistair asked. Conrí nodded, knowing full well that night was as much a thorn in Alistair's side as his own. "Good. Call me sentimental but I left behind some darkspawn that really deserve a sword through the middle."
"The events of Ostagar still haunt my thoughts, Conrí," said Wynne. "If that is where we are headed, I would like to accompany you as well."
"*~*~*~*~
Present day
"I swore an oath that day," Conrí rumbled. "Alistair," he added. The former templar looked up from his own pendant. "Gather the others. Let them know. At daybreak, we march for Ostagar."
"Something about returning here makes me feel old, Wynne," Alistair mumbled, as he drew his blade from the corpse of a hurlock. The group stood in the snow filled remains of where the war council had taken place prior to the battle. The two and a half day march had been done in almost complete silence, save for the occasional neigh or grunt from Bodahn's horses. Shayle, Sten and Morrigan had stayed behind, either to look out for the Warden's allies or, in the witch's case, to avoid being within a league of her 'mother.'
"And what exactly are you implying, Alistair?" Wynne questioned with an arched eyebrow.
"What?" Alistair blinked. "Nothing! I just thought..."
"You just thought I might be an expert at feeling old and could share some sage advice?" Wynne shot, though amusement flickered in her eyes.
"I just mean that I was a different person then," Alistair grunted, realizing he'd been had. "I believed in him, you know? That it would be a glorious battle; that we'd win..."
Wynne nodded sadly. "I did, too," the elder mage agreed. "We were all a little bit younger the last time we were here."
Alistair's lips quirked slightly at the corners. "Well, not you. You've always been old."
"With lip like that, son, you'll be lucky if you live to be half my age," Wynne grumped.
Conrí ignored the mage and former templar and made his way over to the upended table in the back of the hall. With a grunt, he righted it, letting the thick oak legs slam into the dirt. He bowed his head placing his hands on the weathered wood as his mind traveled back to the night before the battle.
Everything had seemed to be planned perfectly. They would buy enough time to put the treaties to use and force the Archdemon to show itself. Duncan or one of the other Senior Wardens would have made the final blow as was tradition, and they would ride out the Thaw as only Fereldans could.
But that wasn't what happened. Their calls were met with silence. The signal had gone ignored, and the army was butchered. Duncan, the other Wardens, Cailan — all dead. Abandoned by a man who apparently fancied himself king. A man who let the monster who'd slaughtered most of his family not only walk free, but flourish.
His gauntleted fists clenched and with a roar like a wounded bear, Conrí reared back and slammed his fists into the table. The wood gave a splintery protest as it snapped in half. Conrí's companion's jumped at the unusual display of unbridled rage. Even when using Oghren's training, he had never lost his temper this badly. He seemed to be intent on destroying anything he could lay his hands on, be it from the war meeting or what the darkspawn had built. It wasn't a quiet rage either, as was the norm for Conrí. No, the De Facto Warden Commander was swearing, near foaming at the mouth as he tore through the ruins. Leliana moved to step forward but was stopped by Oghren. "Not a good idea right now, Leliana," he said, his voice unnaturally soft. "He needs to get this out. He's been slowly letting the rage out during battle, but it's been building up for a long time. Despite him taking a step back when it came to politics and what not, I'd imagine everything sat on that boy's shoulders since the last time he was here. Am I wrong?"
Leliana shook her head as her tearful eyes turned back to her Warden, who had just snapped what was left of a tall candelabra against the stone pillar of a the ruined fortress. Then, to their alarm, he reared back again and punch a large piece of stone loose from said pillar. Ignoring the no doubt throbbing pain in his fist, Conrí seized the only flag left in the war room. Before he could throw it away, his blazing eyes found the faded Heraldry. The damaged flag bore the rampant mabari of the royal family. For several tense moments, Conrí stared at the design. Then, his fist clenched around the shaft of the flag and his teeth gritted before he drove the flag into the earth beneath him, the spike going deep into the soil.
He soon moved slowly around the flag to stare at his companions, his eyes, normally unreadable, now filled with the anger, frustration and pain he had been suppressing for months. "We have work to finish," he said, his voice hoarse.
Leliana grabbed Conrí's shoulder when she noticed blood dripping from his fingertips. "We'll talk after. Xolana, if you wouldn't mind."
Xolana approached slowly with a nod to Leliana, but looked to Conrí for permission to touch him first before she carefully went about looking after him. Conrí gave no resistance to Xolana's treatments. The mage eventually sighed and gave Leliana another nod once she'd looked after the worst of the damage. Wynne would have been the better healer, but who could know if the still raging Commander would have let her approach? Conrí eventually returned the nod and offered the dark-haired woman an almost nonexistent smile before squeezing Leliana's hand and moving off.
The group continued on, searching for anything they could find once the worst of Conrí's rage had passed. After dispatching a group of hurlocks Alistair kneeled in the snow and plucked something from the belt of one; a filthy golden gauntlet in his hand. Part of Cailan's glorious, golden armor.
"What's the matter, Alistair?" Wynne asked.
"I don't know," Alistair muttered bitterly. "It just feels wrong to find this here, pawed over by darkspawn and thick with their rot. It was his."
"I know," Wynne nodded. "I feel it too. But he is not the first king to ever fall in battle, or even the first to fall to the darkspawn."
"Yes but this wound cuts deeper," Alistair growled, brushing the filth off as best he could.
"And it will bleed longer," Wynne agreed. "But we must keep moving; no doubt the darkspawn are eager to give us plenty more reasons to mourn."
They quickly found the statue Elric had indicated, breathing a sigh of relief to find a fine, if weathered, brass key. It seemed even the intelligent darkspawn hadn't thought to sift through the rubble very thoroughly,
The Wardens' group ran across several bands of darkspawn as they moved through the remains of the army camp. Blair stopped and kneeled next to what appeared to be the remains of an elven messenger. A finely made sword lay in his skeletal hand, coated in dried blood. It seemed the poor lad had never found Ser Garland. "Pick…" Blair breathed. "I'm sorry my friend."
Conrí shook his head from next to the remains of Cailan's bodyguard. "Poor bastard…" he stood up and made his way into the destroyed tent. He quickly unlocked the chest hidden under the remains of Cailan's cot. Finding several scrolls, he handed one to Alistair who had followed him in and opened another. A frown creased Conrí's brow as he read, but Alistair's seemed much more pleasant.
"So it's true! Cailan had convinced the forces of Orlais to ally against the darkspawn!" he cried, his eyes darting over the script.
"Empress Celene was merely awaiting his response!" Wynne gaped as she read over Alistair's shoulder.
"A response that never came and now never will, thanks to Loghain's treachery," Alistair spat, his teeth gritting.
"Never is a long time, Alistair," Wynne advised. "Give it time and let cooler heads prevail. There will be peace between us yet."
"Well I hope you live to see it, Wynne," Alistair muttered.
"And I hope the darkspawn don't," Wynne agreed.
Having found a number of pieces of Cailan's armor, the group decided to find the rest, agreeing to search the tower of Ishal. To say "agreed," though was in fact a bit generous. Erin and those who'd been sent there were understandably reluctant. At the bridge, however, the group found something they had dreaded seeing.
Cailan.
It seemed the darkspawn had decided to hang the unfortunate man from a crude, wooden construct.
Conrí came to the grisly spectacle that the darkspawn had made of his old friend. After gazing at Cailan's crucified remains, Conrí stabbed his blade into the stone and took a knee, head bowed, hand still wrapped around the hilt. "I'm so sorry, old friend."
"Conrí, be careful," Xolana muttered, voice uncertain. "The king is in far too good a condition after all this time — something isn't right here."
Conrí's eyes flashed in a white haze. He grunted and turned towards a genlock on the far end of the bridge. "I think we found what, already."
"Darkspawn; it seems even more have not left the site of their victory," Xolana growled. The genlock chuckled vilely and began casting. After a crude gesture, the magic spread out, and several skeletons began rising from the snow around the darkspawn.
"I think we found our necromancer," Conrí rumbled pulling his blade from the stone.
"How did I know we'd end up back here?" Erin muttered in an irritable voice. High above, the Tower of Ishal rose above them, its walls gleaming brightly in the watery light of the winter sun, despite the damage done to the towering structure by the darkspawn. The necromancer had fled inside, darting in through the doors as the group were held by a mob of shrieks that had emerged to defend it.
"There is a certain sense of inevitability to it," Blair agreed, their eyes meeting for a long moment. This was where it had truly begun. Though they had first met days before the battle, it had been during the desperate race against time to reach the beacon at the tower's summit, a 'safe' assignment turned into a desperate fight for their lives, that the bonds that held them together now had first been forged in blood, fear and fire. Two frightened recruits had stood before these doors nearly five months ago; two seasoned Grey Wardens approached them with grim determination now.
Alistair cast a glance over his shoulder at the sun, which had reached its zenith, and would soon be making its descent. "We must be swift."
"Why, were you planning on sightseeing while we're here?"
"Not bloody likely," Alistair muttered at Erin's quip as they started inside the great doors. Inside, the tower was much the same as it had been the last; crawling with darkspawn like an overturned wasp's nest, genlocks and hurlocks emerging from the same chambers as before, necessitating the companions to fight all through the first floor of the tower until they reached the stairway leading up to the next floor. Beside them lay a gaping hole in the ground that had not been there the first time.
"That must be how they got in here that night, how they managed to ambush us up above." Alistair muttered.
"Up or down?" Sten questioned. Erin tried to open the door forward, only to find it resisted all attempts to open it, even when she tried forcing it with her shoulder. "Blocked from the other side"
"Down the hole and into the deeps then," Alistair griped. "I don't want to even imagine where this goes."
There was no other alternative; the taint below their skin clearly indicated the darkspawn had fled below, and in any case, even if the way were open up, Erin wasn't sure she'd wish to ascend to the tower's summit, to see the bodies of Tobias, Mathis and all the others who died that night trying to defend or reach the beacon, nor to be reminded of how close she and the others had come to dying up there, their bodies left to rot or be picked over by the darkspawn, forgotten and forever lost.
The Genlock Necromancer had made its way down to the battlefield where the horde met Cailan's army. The group skidded to a stop, seeing the damn creature had risen the ogre that killed Cailan along with several Warden corpses. Conrí's eyes flashed as he saw the drones dressed in their battered Warden armor. "Alistair, you handle our—" Conrí's voice broke briefly, then became an angry growl. "Former comrades. I'll take Big Ugly over there. The rest of you, take care of that damn genlock and whatever else it summons."
Erin nodded grimly and twirled her swords as she fought her way across to get to the necromancer. The others followed quickly, their faces set in grim masks. Conrí strode through the snow to the slightly paler than normal Ogre with a pair of daggers sticking out of its chest. " You killed my friend, you ugly bastard. When I'm done carving you up, your master is next."
With a roar, the berserk rage took hold and Conrí lost himself in the red haze of battle. The blade in his hand moved in a deadly dance, drawing blood and pained yells from the undead beast. Instinct told Conrí when to duck and weave, not conscious thought. At that moment, he wasn't Warden Commander or Lieutenant. He wasn't the second son of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland. He was just a man fighting to sate his bloodlust and avenge his fallen friends.
He only came back to himself when he felt his blade pierce the bony crest on the ogre's head. He wrenched the blade free from the ogre's skull, not noticing Xolana took the head off the necromancer. Alistair relaxed as the controlled corpses crumpled to the ground. "Ew," Xolana wiped the blood off her blades on the necromancers own clothes so she didn't sully herself further. Conrí sat down heavily in the snow, not far from the fallen ogre, sword still streaked in darkspawn blood. Xolana looked off towards him. "Looks like Conrí finished off the ogre. Come on everyone, we should rejoin the Commander."
Conrí remained silent as the group approached, only speaking when the group was close enough. "I take it, since this giant bastard isn't getting up again, the emissary is dead?"
"I assure you he's not getting up again," Xolana promised. Oghren was about to make some really inappropriate comment about how Xolana had stuck the bastard like a pig but was shut up by a stern glance from the mage.
Conrí used some of the snow to clean off his blade before standing and wrenching Duncan's daggers from the slain ogre's chest. "Did you get Cailan's helm?" Conrí asked.
Xolana nodded to Alistair to give it to Conrí. "There it is, the last of them," the former templar muttered.
Wynne sighed. "It has been a long day," she mumbled. "By the lines around your eyes I dare say you two look as old as I."
"And if I may say so, milady, you appear to be getting younger by the day," Alistair chuckled.
"Be careful who you flirt with, young man," Wynne laughed. "When you wake up beside me tomorrow morning I'll be back to reminding you of your grandmother."
"Beside you?" Alistair blanched.
"You heard what I said," Wynne grinned evily. "It would not be the first time I woke to a younger man in my bed."
"Are all women this evil and conniving when they grow old?" Alistair sulked.
"Just me, my dear," Wynne chuckled. "Just me."
"Come. We'd better find Cailan," Conrí sighed. "The sooner we see him off, the sooner we can put this place behind us, where it belongs."
Leliana put a hand on his shoulder as he passed. "Conrí, do not hold your grief in. You lost many friends here that night. Alistair and Wynne did as well."
Conrí was silent for a few long moments and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "I can't let my grief overwhelm me here, Leli. My grief can wait at least until we're safely back at camp."
Leliana nodded and took his hand, ignoring the snow still clinging to his gauntlet. "We're with you, Commander," Xolana agreed. "Let's go offer the king his final rites."
When the group returned to the king, Conrí's orders lacked the usual bark. "Alistair, take Erin and Tira and find enough wood to make a pyre. I'll — I'll get His Majesty down."
"Conrí do, you want some help?" Xolana asked from her place next to Leliana.
Conrí shook his head. "I—I can handle this. Could you see if you can find any oil or something flammable?" Xolana was about to mention that they had magic fire, but closed her mouth as the thought struck that there was likely a reason Conrí was forgoing that. Intead, she just nodded. Conrí climbed the structure the darkspawn had nailed Cailan to and began wrenching the spikes from the king's body. After returning to the group, he built a pyre with the wood Alistair, Erin and Tira brought back before placing Cailan on top. He doused the wood and Cailan in the oil. "Xolana, if you don't mind. Just... get it going."
The mage nodded and added just a spark of energy to start the fire, no more. Erin stood next to her brother and leaned against him. Conrí put his arm around her shoulders. After several long minutes of watching the pyre, he broke the silence.
"He was dying you know," he finally said. Alistair looked up from the fire. "Cailan. He was dying. Healers said he had maybe a year. It was a wasting sickness. Eventually, he wouldn't have been able to get out of bed. He told me after the war council. Cailan had no intention of surviving this war."
"But then, that means... It wouldn't have even made a difference," Alistair mumbled.
"If Loghain had charged?" Conrí asked. "No, perhaps not. Cailan wasn't hoping for a battle that the bards would sing of for ages. He was hoping to buy time. To hold the horde back until we could gather our allies. But Loghain's distrust of foreigners and paranoia reared its head at the worst time."
"He wanted to be remembered," Serena muttered. "To not go under as just another king in the sands of time. But now he will only ever be remembered as the one who lost spectacularly at Ostagar."
Erin shook her head sadly as she looked into the pyre. "Maric didn't leave small shoes to fill."
"I wouldn't fit in 'em even if he hadn't been such a great man. From what I heard you all say, anyway," Oghren grumbled. Xolana sent the dwarven berserker a weird look. "I'm trying, okay?!" Oghren trailed off mumble. "Nug-humping..."
"Oghren, stop trying," Serena snarked.
"You're making it awkward," Garik added.
"The fire will most likely attract enemies," Wynne said gently. "It would be best if we did not linger."
"Aye. Pay your last, then we have to be moving," Conrí agreed. "Wouldn't want Eamon to think he was on his own for once."
Xolana put a careful hand on Conrí's shoulder on the other side of Leliana. "You ok?"
"Not really," Conrí muttered. "But I will be. Let's go."
Everyone completed their final business at the site in silence, and then gathered together to go. By now the sun had begun to set and Cailan's pyre had died down to embers.
Conrí stood on the bridge, taking one last long look back at Ostagar, urn of Cailan's ashes in hand. Some things are better left in the past, he thought before turning and following the others, his cloak catching in the wind.
AN: Not the easiest chapter to right, even baring my screw ups. I always found Return to Ostagar more depressing then satisfying. Not to say the DLC was bad, it was amazing. It just shows that not every story is going to have a satisfying ending and you just have to move on. Easier said then done. Anyway, i'll quit babbling. Thanks again for your patience and support for this story. I look forward to any thoughts you guys have, so don't hesitate to review or PM me. :) ~Sin