Summary: When tragedy strikes, Scarlett and Alistair must come to terms with the fact that their leadership styles are very, VERY different. And Zevran gets a taste of sweet revenge.
So, there I was, mentally weighing the pros and cons of attempting a rescue mission or leaving the deceitful bitch to die at the hands of her own monstrosity. After drowning out that extremely loud and incredibly persuasive voice in my head telling me I should leave her for dead, I concluded Shina would be more of an asset to us if she remained among the living. She had answers, and I had a whoooooole lotta questions.
Damnit.
Now comes the fun part: Convincing the others to delay our search for Witherfang even further to find her.
"What do you want to do?" Alistair asked after he'd given me a moment to get my head together. Bless him.
"Want? I want to bash her skull in with the pommel of my sword…" I began.
"I'm fairly certain we can leave that particular task to the demon." Alistair reasoned.
"Silly Alistair. Demons do not wield swords." Leliana corrected him.
"Duh, I know that. I just mean that if we leave her out there alone, it all ends the same way: Shina dies."
"I wasn't finished." I interjected. "Sadly, this isn't about what I want to do. It's about what we need to do. We need information. We need to find out what other little surprises Isolde might have waiting up her sleeve. And, as much as it pains me to admit it, we'll learn nothing if we let that demon kill Shina. "
"I agree." Zevran asserted. "The things she knew—sordid details of my past, the exact location of our whereabouts… if I didn't know better, I'd say we have a spy in our midst." The elf looked around at everyone as dramatically as possible, ever the showman.
"No. No no no. Don't even go there. You'll accuse me. I'll accuse Morrigan. Morrigan will accuse Oghren. Oghren will accuse Shale, Shale will accuse the bloody birds and on and on and on. It'll all snowball and keep spiraling out of control until you can't do so much as pick your nose without someone being suspicious of you. We can't function like that. We just can't." Alistair warned wisely, albeit… graphically.
"First off, eww. Could you not come up with a better analogy?" I made a face at Alistair who just smiled innocently and shrugged. "Secondly, Alistair is right. We need solidarity now more than ever. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for all of this, but the longer we stay here squabbling, the less likely we are to find the witch alive. Can we get a move on?"
"Where, Scarlett? Where, pray tell, do you wish to go?" Morrigan made a sweeping gesture to showcase our completely unfamiliar surroundings. "We are now robbed of our so-called guide, remember? How do you intend to find a lone blood mage in this woodsy labyrinth?"
It was a valid question. How in the Maker's name were we going to find Shina before it was too late? Before I could really let that quandary sink in, I noticed Meatball sniffing around the roots of the Elder Tree.
I then heard what could only be described as a low, rumbling snicker emanating from our new planty friend.
"What curious creature is this? I do hope nothing is amiss..." The tree looked down to observe the dog curiously.
"He's my pet Mabari. Don't worry, he won't hurt you." I smiled at the tree reassuringly. "I think he just likes the way you smell."
And as soon as I finished that sentence, Meatball, right on cue, decided to relieve himself right there on the roots at the base of the Grand Oak.
"MEATBALL! NO!" I rushed over to try and shoo him away. I was too late. The Mabari's bladder was empty and its contents were splattered all over the bottom of tree's trunk.
"Bad dog! BAD!" I wagged my finger at the pup, who whined pathetically. "I am so profoundly sorry." I offered to the Oak.
The tree laughed once again, but this time it was a bit more hearty. "Do not worry, my new canine friend. Your call of nature did not offend."
"Should we not… uh… rub his nose in it? Isn't that a thing with dogs who do something bad?" Zevran asked.
"His... nose?" I blinked.
"Yes, that thing at the end of his face. Black, round, usually wet, often used for sniffing and snorting… You are no doubt familiar with the concept." Zevran quipped.
"Y-yes…" I stammered as the idea Zev sparked began to fully take shape. "His... nose… His NOSE! His big, beautiful nose!"
Meatball gave a happy bark at my apparent exuberance. Yeah, I had an epiphany. I confess I sometimes get overly excited when that happens. It's my one flaw.
"Zev, do you have anything of Shina's? Any of her personal effects?" I asked impatiently.
"Let's see… she gave me her gloves after I told her they reminded me of—"
"Perfect." I snatched the ornate leather gloves from the elf's hands. "Meatball, here boy!" I whistled to beckon him closer and offered the Mabari the gloves for a sniff. He nosed around the leather, even licking it a couple of times for good measure.
"Got the scent?" I asked after about a minute of the dog's probing, to which he replied with a bark I could only assume was in the affirmative. "Good boy!" I knelt down and scratched him behind the ears before hopping back up to my feet. "Lead the way!"
…
Meatball kept his nose to the ground most of the journey, coming back to my side to give the gloves a few additional sniffs every now and again to keep the scent fresh. And, true to his word, the Grand Oak did make navigating the forest a whole lot easier. How exactly he pulled that off, I have no idea, but I wasn't about to question it. Arborescent magic was well outside my area of expertise. We spied new sights and landmarks fairly frequently, which served as a very pleasant reminder that we were covering ground at a decent clip—that was good enough for me.
"You are most quiet, my dear." Zevran observed as his step fell in sync with Leliana's. "It is not like you."
"And why should I speak? The only thing capable of coming out of my mouth is, oh... what was your choice phrase again?"
"Bullshit." Morrigan simply couldn't resist the opportunity to get a dig in.
"I was not speaking to you!" Leliana hissed.
"I was merely trying to help." Morrigan retorted flippantly.
"You wish to help? Keep that pointy, Flemeth-looking nose of yours out of my business."
I snapped my eyes closed at the harshness of the statement, bracing for Morrigan's wrath that was sure to follow. Alistair, presumably to play peacekeeper as any good leader should, began to open his mouth. I'm sure his intentions were good (though where Morrigan is concerned, who really knows), but I gave him a quick kiss before he could get a word out and shook my head to silently advise him to keep his trap shut. His involvement would only escalate the situation. He gave me a puzzled look before glancing behind him at the burgeoning conflict. I pulled him close and whispered in his ear.
"Here's another tip for my favorite future king: Sometimes knowing when not to get involved is just as important as the opposite."
He quirked a brow at first, then thought about it for a second and ultimately nodded before stealing another quick kiss and ignoring the conversation at our backs.
"Ladies, please. You are both far too beautiful to be so ugly to one another." Zevran cooed in an attempt to smooth things over.
"Save your cheap flattery for someone who gives a damn, elf." Morrigan spat before quickening her stride so she was decidedly farther away from the—I hesitate to say "couple," but you know what I mean.
"Thank you, Scarlett. I very much appreciate your intervention back there. It truly warms the cockles of my heart to know I have your support." Morrigan groaned sardonically.
I chuckled at that. "Oh, please. If there ever was a woman who doesn't need someone else to fight her battles for her, it's you."
She gave me a weak smile at the compliment.
And then, of course, in true Alistair fashion, he just haaaaad to say his piece.
"Unless, of course, the battle involves killing a legendary witch of the Kocari Wilds. You were all too happy to have someone else fight that one for you. But, you know, who's counting, right?"
I could almost see the barbs that Morrigan was about to spew from her mouth, but that was when Meatball let out a decisive "HOOOOOOWWWWWL." The source of the scent he was tracking had been found.
Joy.
If they noticed us, they did a damn good job of hiding it. It was quite the sight. Shina was seemingly unconscious and lying flat on her back, wrists and ankles bound to some sort of sacrificial stone monolith, surrounded by what appeared to be even more blood mages doing some kind of unnerving dance to summon their dark magic. There was no demon to speak of, but it's quite possible that situation was taken care of before we got here by this weird cadre of maleficarum. I wasn't sure what their plans were for the shackled elf, but if I were a guessing person, I'd say it was nothing good.
"What do you make of this, Wynne?" I quietly asked the mage standing behind me as we all moved to a spot that was slightly less visible to the naked eye.
"I can't be sure. It's blood magic, but to what end?" she replied.
"Does it matter? Blood magic is bad. All of it. Let's stop this before they finish… whatever it is they're doing." Alistair suggested.
"You have such a large head to house such a small mind." Morrigan rolled her eyes. "There are several of them, and maleficarum are nothing to be trifled with. Simply rushing in could be suicide. We need a plan."
Huh… a plan? Really? Maybe I was rubbing off on Morrigan more than I thought. Point for me.
"Alistair. You were a templar. Can't you just sort of… make them stop?" I asked.
He chuckled bitterly at that. "I wasn't exactly a model student in templar training, Scarlett. And I'm a bit rusty. One of them I might be able to handle, but… not this many. Not all at once."
"Okay. Plan B: Wynne? I know you're probably tired still from our fight with that demon yesterday, but… do you think you could ask your spirit friend to do us a solid here?" I entreated.
"I… I suppose I could try to drain their mana. That should interrupt them immediately and deal a decisive blow. But it won't finish them. You will all need to be ready to fight."
"I think that's our best bet. Do you concur, Alistair?" I asked politely. Yes, believe it or not, I can play nice in the sandbox when the situation calls for it.
"Yes. That. Let's do that. Just do it now!" He implored the elder mage.
Wynne closed her eyes tightly and furrowed her brows, her thin, papery hands wrapping around her staff, which was beginning to glow a very bright cyan. Before long, her whole body began to tremble as the spell began to take shape, a gossamer circle of white and blue swirling about the blood mages like some kind of arcane tornado. With a thunderous cry Alistair ran toward them headlong, sword extended and shield firmly in place. The others and I followed him into the fray—though, calling it a fray might be hyperbolizing a bit. Whatever Wynne did seemed to work better than we could have hoped; one more hit from each of us and every single blood mage there was down for the count.
The swift victory, however, did not come without cost. Wynne collapsed almost immediately after the spell was cast.
My first instinct was to run to her side, as was everyone's, but that would leave Shina unguarded, and that simply would not fly.
"Go to her, Scarlett. I'll watch Shina." Zevran offered.
"She bewitched you once, Zev. She could do it again."
"Not in this state. She's not even awake. Besides, I can take care of myself. Now go."
"Oghren, you should be immune to her magic. Go with Zev. Guard Shina."
The dwarf gave me a nod and ran as quick as his little legs could carry him to catch up with the elf. No quips, no jibes, no protests. Wonders never cease.
"Wynne? WYNNE?!" I called as I ran to her. She didn't move. I knelt down and rested my head against her chest, desperate to hear a heartbeat, feel the ebbs and flows of her breathing.
Nothing.
"No. No no no. Please." I held the mage's hand and brought it to my forehead as I lowered my head and felt the tears began to fall.
"Morrigan? Is… is there nothing you can do?" I begged.
"I am sorry, Scarlett. But I am no healer. You know this. My talents lie… elsewhere."
"Fuck. FUCK FUCK FUCK!" I shrieked in frustration, naively hoping Wynne would come back and chide me for my crass language. She didn't, of course. And that's when the guilt began to set in. I shouldn't have pushed her so hard again so soon. Her life's been hanging by a thread for months now. I knew that and I asked this of her anyway. This was my fault.
My pity party was swiftly interrupted, however, by the "tsk tsk tsk" of the bound blood mage.
"Oh dear. Quite the predicament you're in, no? Such a shame. If only there were another mage here who knows healing magic." Shina, apparently now awake, taunted in some accent that was most definitely NOT Antivan. Not anymore. Quite the little actress, this one.
I shot her the most hate-filled, rancorous look I could muster as soon as she uttered the first word. And I couldn't be sure, but I thought I heard a "gulp."
Intimidating? Little old me? Perish the thought.
"Cut me loose, swear you'll allow me to walk out of here with my life, and I'll bring her back." Shina offered.
I gave her a dry laugh. "Counter offer: You bring Wynne back to us right fucking now, or we kill you."
Now it was the elf's turn to laugh. "Please. Let's dispense with the empty threats, shall we? You won't kill me yet. I know you won't. Do you know why?"
My glare somehow became even more deadly as I stared her down.
"Because you need what I know. That is why you're here, is it not? Or am I to believe you were just going for a pleasant stroll and happened upon a damsel in distress?"
My resolve began to weaken slightly, and I knew she could sense it. I hated it when enemies were smart. I was so used to being the one with the upperhand—at least when it comes to brains. Darkspawn aren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Shina? Well, Shina was a whole other kettle of fish.
"Bring her back. Please. We won't kill you. You have my word." Alistair vowed.
"Alistair!" I yelled in protest, but it was too bloody late. The words had already spilled from his mouth.
Aaaaaaaand there went our only bargaining chip. Great. Just fucking swell.
Shina smiled a smile that chilled me to my core before fixing her eyes on Zevran. "Well? Be a good boy and untie mummy, won't you?"
"You are not my mother. And I do not recall untying you being part of the deal." Zevran managed to eek out from behind gritted teeth. It didn't take a genius to see he was hopping mad.
"Ah, there's the rub. We spellcasters, we need our hands, I'm afraid. I'll need to lay them on the woman to heal her."
Zevran looked over to me, and I gave him a nod of approval. What else could we do? However, I also knew Zev was resourceful. If anyone could find a way to keep her restrained, it was him.
With a few flicks of a wrist his dagger cut the ropes binding the other elf's feet and ankles. As soon as she was free she tried to run, of course, but Shina soon came to realize she could not get farther than about, oh, five feet or so. Quicker than my naked eye could see, Zev somehow managed to use that same rope to wrap around her neck. We now had a blood mage on a leash. He pulled her to him, her back against the front of his torso, and whispered something in her ear. I couldn't hear what he said, but whatever it was wiped that condescending smirk right off her pretty little face.
"Walk." Zevran demanded. Shina complied. Once she was close enough she knelt down at Wynne's side, closed her eyes, and placed both hands on her chest.
"I'll need blood for this." Shina explained.
"You never said anything about using blood magic!" Alistair vehemently protested.
"Oh heavens me, you're right. I did neglect to mention that, didn't I? Am I to assume you want her to die, then?"
Alistair was left with no choice but to shut his mouth and hang his head. I knew him well enough by now to know what he was thinking. He shared a special bond with Wynne. She had become a mother to him, of sorts. No way was he about to let her die; not if there was a chance she could be saved—the means be damned.
"Ah, how quickly the moral high ground crumbles when it suits your whims." The elf smiled smugly. "Now, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by this royal imbecile, I. Need. Blood. Do I have a volunteer?" Shina posed.
"Oh, allow me." Leliana offered as she moved to the elf's side.
"Splendid! Now just hold out—"
Before she could finish, Leliana grabbed Shina by the wrist and split her palm open with a knife, quick as a wink. The elf hissed in pain as the blood flowed from the wound.
"The blood you requested, my lady." Leliana smirked.
"Cute." Shina scoffed as she took the blood and rubbed it all over her hands.
...Weird.
"You know, I've heard it said that the power of blood magic is contingent upon the amount of pain involved in drawing the blood. Perhaps I should be more thorough…" Leliana made a big show of readying the knife for another slice.
"No no no. This will do." Shina insisted nervously. The elf lay hands on Wynne's chest and uttered words that were beyond my comprehension—only a whisper at first, then louder and louder and louder each time they were repeated. Shina then laced her fingers together to form one fist with her bloodied hands and began to pound on Wynne's chest. Hard. Once. Twice. Three times, as though her fists were going to jumpstart the other mage's heart.
Wynne awoke with a startling gasp, her eyes growing watery as color began to fill her pallid cheeks once again.
"Welcome back." Alistair smiled as he ran the back of his hand down her slightly wrinkled cheek.
"Wha… what happened?" Wynne looked around, dazed and confused.
"You gave us quite a scare there, Wynne." Leliana smiled warmly. "Just a little fainting spell. Nothing to worry about." she lied.
"No." Wynne shook her head. "No, I… I shouldn't be here. I was… I was in the Fade. I know I was. It was time. Why? Why am I here? What brought me back?"
"I did. The bastard prince here made a deal. I keep my life if you keep yours." Shina explained coldly. Then Wynne noticed the blood on the elf's hands.
"Blood magic…" She uttered barely above a whisper before turning her attention back to us. "Alistair! How could you?!" Wynne scolded.
"How could I… save your life? Are you seriously asking me this right now?" Alistair defended.
"And what of the cost? Blood magic is dangerous. You know this. A good king must never compromise his principles. He must never waver. He must—"
"ENOUGH!" Alistair shouted, making Wynne's eyes grow wide as saucers. "I am sick to death of being told what a good king is and isn't. What he does or doesn't do. I never claimed to be a good king. I never even claimed to be A king. I'm just me. And just me thought your life was more important than Shina getting a bloody scrape across the hand." His hands, balled into fists with white knuckles, slowly began to loosen up as he took a deep breath in and whispered, "I've lost my father. I've lost my mother. My brother. Duncan. I just… I wasn't ready to lose you, too. Not yet."
I rested my hand on his shoulder, the heartbreak in his words making my own chest heavy.
Wynne's eyes began to fill with tears and regret as she looked up at him. "Alistair, I…"
He just shook his head and walked away.
"So young. So desperate for love and approval. Don't it just break your heart?" Shina grinned cruelly as she watched Alistair go, though where he was headed, I couldn't tell you. I just knew that with Shina now in our custody, I was in no position to follow.
"I should go to him." Wynne offered.
I nodded. "Yes, I think he needs that right now. But don't wander too far. We'll catch you up soon."
"What will you do?" Wynne asked.
I unsheathed my sword. "Shina and I have some unfinished business."
"Oooh that sounds like fun." Shina smirked as Wynne got up and made her way to Alistair.
I trained the tip of my sword right at her throat. "Doesn't it, though?"
"I must warn you, however. Unlike your Antivan friend here, I was, in fact, paid extra for my silence."
"Oh, we have ways of making you talk." Zevran grinned as he tightened the rope around the other elf's neck. Shina tensed her muscles to keep the rope from blocking her air supply.
"...Really? Yikes. Cool it with the cliches, Zev."
"Sorry. Force of habit."
"I'm going to be completely candid with you here, Shina. Alistair and Wynne? The two people who are now conveniently no longer within sight of us? They are the only ones in my little brood here who might object to Zevran slicing off various parts of your body until you tell us what we wish to know. I myself have no qualms with this approach. So, I guess the question is, what's worth more to you? Your precious silence, or your limbs?"
Shina swallowed hard, but ultimately decided to remain stubborn.
"You're bluffing."
"Zev?" I called.
The elf proceeded to quickly slice off her left ear, pointy tip to lobe. Shina squealed in pain, the wound bleeding like a sieve as she held her hand to it in an attempt to stop the torrent of blood.
"Ah, that felt good. Next will be a finger or two. Then one hand. Then the other. And, correct me if I'm wrong, but don't spellcasters need the use of their hands?" Zev threw the blood mage's words back at her.
"ALRIGHT!" she croaked, her voice crackling with pain. "What do you want to know?"
"How did you know we'd be in the Brecilian Forest? How did you know how to find us?" I inquired sternly.
"Connor." Shina replied plainly.
"Horse shit. Try again." I pressed my blade against her skin to draw a little blood. I knew Connor. I spent time with him. He wouldn't betray us. There was no way.
"It's true. You told him too much. Did you really think Isolde would send her precious boy off to the Circle without making… arrangements?"
"Arrangements? What are you talking about?"
"She had one of the templars in her pocket. She paid him a rather exorbitant amount of coin to keep an eye on the boy until the time came when she could get him out."
"A name. I want the name of this templar."
"I don't recall."
"Zevran." I ordered again.
He pulled Shina's hair back, exposing her other ear to his blade, which he slowly began to bring down on her.
"Carroll!" She cried before the blade could slice through her flesh. "His name was Carroll. He overheard your talks with the boy. Overheard your plans to come here. He told Isolde he knew where you'd be, and so she sent me."
"My turn. Why was I targeted? How did you know what you knew about my past? Why did you—" The questions came flying out of Zevran's mouth at an alarming rate.
"I am not a Crow. I do, however, liaise with them… when it suits me. Taliesen had taken the assignment to kill the wardens and retrieve you. He did not, however, wish to suffer your same fate. So we tried a new tactic. Gain their trust, first. Carroll had seen how cozy you were with Scarlett at the Circle. With what Taliesen knew about you, it was almost too easy to fool you, my sweet Zevran. After all, who doesn't love a good old-fashioned family reunion?"
You'd never know it if you weren't really looking, but as I looked into his eyes I could see it plainly: This woman had hurt Zevran. Despite all his tries to stay cold, stay distant, he dared have hope that he'd found something to fill that void in his soul. And my heart broke for him, it really did.
"Oh, don't look so glum. It was nothing personal. Simply a means to an end. You of all people should be able to understand that."
"No. What you did was beyond low. It was… abhorrent. It was needlessly cruel. Have you no shame?" Zevran asked in a rare moment of abject sincerity.
"You were a job, Zevran. Nothing more. And Taliesen provided me with the tools to get the job done. As for shame, well, there are three basic tenets to being an effective assassin: Be beautiful. Be powerful. And be without regret. I am proud to say I have mastered all three. Are you truly upset because I am not who I claimed, or are you angry because you were bested at your own twisted game?"
Zevran began to lunge his dagger at the mage, but by the grace of the Maker I managed to wrap my hand around his forearm and catch him before it was too late. I shot him a glare that I hoped said "Not yet." He seemed to understand and relaxed a little.
"So the plan was to lure us into a false sense of security. Tire us out. Make us weak by having us wander around this bloody forest for hours, fighting those Sylvans that were under your control. And if they didn't finish the job, you'd have a demon do your dirty work and kill us all." I put the pieces together.
"Ding ding ding! You really are quite bright, despite what people say. And I would've gotten away with it, too, if it weren't for Wynne. Her current… ah, how should I put it… symbiosis, with that spirit dwelling inside her… it was not something I had bargained for."
"What a shame." I offered sarcastically.
"Indeed. When I learned you survived the encounter, I tried to summon another demon. Give it another try. But I was ambushed by those maleficar. They put the creature down before I could finish binding it and tied me up for their own… malevolent purposes. And here we are. Now, are we done?"
"No. Not by a long shot. I need to know more about Isolde. What is she planning?"
"Ah, I hate to disappoint, but my relationship with the Red Queen was strictly on a need-to-know basis. She told me how to find you. How to get in good with the Antivan. Whatever else she's planning, I'm afraid she didn't fill me in."
"You're lying."
"Any other time you'd be absolutely right, but I'm afraid this time, you could not be more wrong."
"Leliana?" I called. Leliana was blessed with pretty incredible bullshit detection … most of the time.
"I… I think she's telling the truth, Scarlett."
"Seeeeee? But I will give you this little bit for free. You know, as a show of good faith: Isolde is prepared to do anything, and I do mean ANYTHING, to discredit Alistair's claim to the Ferelden throne. At Loghain's side in Denerim, her resources are… considerable. She will leave no stone unturned, no page unread, no corner unexplored until she finds irrefutable evidence that Alistair cannot rule. You would do well to remember that."
She paused waiting for some kind of response. I didn't have one. It was a lot to process. And the list of people I needed to kill was getting longer by the minute.
"Now, I think I have cooperated to the fullest extent possible. The bastard gave me his word. Let me go."
Zevran looked into my eyes, and I gave him another nod. He knew exactly what it meant.
"Well, that's the thing about us bastards…" He took his dagger swiped it across Shina's throat before he plunged it deep into the witch's stomach, "We're just so damn untrustworthy." He twisted the blade so the wound wouldn't close and pulled Shina in close as he whispered, "And for the record, my dear, this is very, very personal."
He pushed her forcefully away from him and we all just stood there, watching her bleed out on the grass. It didn't take long and I'm not sure what this says about me but… it felt good. Like a wrong had been righted. Like justice had been served for once.
"NO!"
Hold that thought.
"What have you done?!" Alistair yelled as soon as he came back into view.
Uh oh.
"Done? My dear boy, I've merely solved a problem. And quite effectively, I might add." Zevran boasted.
"I… I gave her my word. I promised her she'd live. How could you let him do this?" Alistair asked me in his accusatory tone that he only saved for special occasions. Great.
"It was the right thing to do." I explained plainly.
"We killed a woman who was tied up after I swore we'd set her free if she did what she was told. How is this the right thing?"
"Not just a woman. A blood mage who tried to kill us first. On multiple occasions. Tell me, o mighty templar, does your hypocrisy know no bounds? What of those other blood mages we simply attacked on sight? Are those lives worth less than this woman's?" Morrigan chimed in.
Alistair bared his teeth and clenched his jaw, his face and neck beginning to turn red with anger. Being called a hypocrite clearly did nothing to help him see reason. Go figure.
"Let me paint a picture for you, Alistair." I began calmly. "We let Shina walk out of here. She goes back to Isolde. She tells her she failed and that we still live. Isolde sends another assassin. And another. And another. Until one day they succeed and we're left with precisely fuck all to defeat the Archdemon and save the bloody world. I kind of thought the risk of that eventuality outweighed your fucking promise, which, I might add, you only made because you were emotionally compromised."
"That's… that's not fair. I mean, you're a behemoth."
"A what?" I asked, puzzled and irritated.
"I think he means a berserker." Oghren explained.
"Right, whatever. You're that B word. You are the definition of emotionally compromised. Why is this different?"
"Because I take my anger and turn it into something useful. It wasn't anger you latched onto Alistair, it was fear. It was fear that Wynne wouldn't come back. Fear made you make that promise. And fear is useless."
"Why is everyone making me feel like saving Wynne was somehow the wrong thing to do? I don't understand."
"I know what you did for me, Alistair, and I am grateful." Wynne explained gently. "But what you are doing must be bigger than you or me. You and Scarlett have to save the world. And nothing, not even the loss of those we care about, can threaten that mission. Do you understand?"
Alistair let out a dry laugh. "No, I don't understand. Not really. If we lose the ones we care about, then what in the Maker's name makes this world worth saving?"
He looked me in the eyes while he said it, the gravity and sincerity of the words so blatant, so raw. All this talk lately of leadership and kings… he had been a pretty good sport up until now, playing this new role to the best of his ability, learning and absorbing as much as he could. But despite what Wynne said, no one could reasonably be expected to be that selfless 100 percent of the time. That undying question that had been looming in the background since we woke Eamon came to the forefront once again: Did Alistair becoming king mean the end for us?
I broke the eye contact we shared and shook it off. Another time. Another place. Focus, Scarlett.
"This is getting us nowhere and we're losing daylight. Shina is dead. Wynne is alive. Win-win. Now, we need to find that werewolf lair and we need to find it soon. Let's finish this."
Yep, when in doubt, resort to cold, unfeeling pragmatism.
… Eesh. Maybe that relationship with Morrigan I mentioned works both ways—seems she's rubbing off on me, too.
...
We resumed our journey in strained silence. A bevy of emotions were running rampant, and none of them were especially warm and fuzzy. Anger, betrayal, frustration, annoyance, regret, the list goes on. Luckily, it wasn't long before we ran into our old pal Swiftrunner again. And he seemed… less than psyched to see us.
Boy, today just keeps getting better and better.
"The forest has not been vigilant enough. You are stronger than we could have anticipated. The Dalish chose well. You do not belong here, outsider. LEAVE THIS PLACE!" The wolf demanded as his lackeys ran up to join him.
"Look, I told you before, we need to see Witherfang. And we're not leaving until we do." Alistair explained as he crossed his arms stubbornly.
"Hrrrrr. You are sent by the treacherous Dalish to kill Witherfang! I will not stand by and allow that to happen!"
"Why do you call them treacherous? You attacked them, remember? What did they do to you?" Alistair asked, and quite smartly. Color me impressed. There was more going on here than Zathrian had let on. I could feel it.
"They deserve no less! You are an intruder in our home. You come to kill, as all your kind do. We have learned this lesson well. Here, Witherfang protects us. Here, we learn our names and are beloved. We will defend Witherfang and this place with our lives!"
And with a long, shrill "HOOOOWWWWL," the time for talk came to an end. Swiftrunner and his brothers attacked us. And we retaliated in kind.
Hmm… you must be sick to death of reading about our countless fights with the wolves and trees and whatever else by now. I'm running out of ways to keep all this sounding exciting. Shall we try onomatopoeia this time? Pow. Clash. Pop. Squish. Bash. Bark. Bonk. Chomp. Crack. Growl. Slash. Thud.
I am happy to report that the "thud" was Swiftrunner and his pack hitting the ground after we'd kicked the ever-loving crap out of them. Right before we could complete our coup de grace, however, a new wolf came to their rescue. A wolf with white fur that had a certain air of magic and majesty. A wolf that exactly matched the description Zathrian had given us.
Witherfang.
