Alistair was looking everywhere except directly in front of him, studying the walls of the temple's antechamber very thoroughly. Yes, quite grey. Mm, very rocky. Oh, and there was a glowing nature-being standing naked before their entire party.
"I bid you welcome, mortals," she said. "I am the Lady of the Forest."
When she spoke, Alistair's gaze lingered entirely too long on her leafy bosom. All conscious thought abandoned, he found himself wondering about - searching for - her nipples. Because if she didn't have nipples, then he couldn't be lecherous for looking at them.
Gotcha, Chantry. No sin here.
The glowy woman turned to Elissa. "No doubt you have questions. There are things Zathrian has not told you."
"How... do you know what he has or has not told me?"
Alistair narrowed his gaze. Their leader's distrust of Zathrian was no secret, but her pause spoke volumes. There was something Elissa was calculating, and that was never good.
"Because there are things that he would not tell. Things that you should decide for yourself whether you need to know."
Even with the abject nakedness, Alistair could tell a fight was coming. The spark of it crackled through the air, as palpably as if it were cast by a mage.
Although their recent interactions had been unpleasant, he felt ashamed he hadn't tried harder to meet with Elissa to plot out the plan. In his Templar training, hadn't he sucked up his distaste of his superiors and followed their orders anyway? It was strange to be guessing at her approach here when so many of their prior missions had been well-coordinated. He was good at executing plans.
If this mission went any way besides without-a-hitch, he could look forward to endless lectures from Eamon over Alistair's failure to communicate. Not Elissa's, mind. It was true that he wasn't skilled in the intricacies of diplomacy, but weren't Eamon and now Elissa supposed to be his trusted advisors? Shouldn't they have been offering plans for him to approve? Or was Elissa's disappearing act at camp another test, and he was meant to formally invite her to propose solutions at every turn?
Maker damn her, she was infuriating.
"Zathrian came to this ruin and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great wolf. So Witherfang came to be."
Shit, this was just like his days in the Chantry. Alistair had definitely missed something important while his mind wandered.
"So the Dalish knowingly misled us." Elissa's sneer solidified into anger. He knew that look. Ice enveloped his heart, and he shuddered involuntarily.
"Please, mortal, you must go to him. Bring him here. If he sees these creatures, hears their plight, surely he will agree to end the curse!"
Elissa smiled that sweet, sickening not-smile she had. "I have another plan. Kill the elves. Kill Zathrian."
Alistair's heart clutched. There it was. Had this been her plan all along? Or worse, had his inability to lead properly set her on this murderous journey?
"What the fuck ?" Kalya squared her hips behind Elissa, well within strike range. The fury bubbling up her frame made her look nearly as tall as the warrior.
The wolves stepped back a bit.
"Both sides have acted despicably, elf, but in a stalemate, someone needs to make the difficult decisions. It's called leading ."
Kalya spun to Alistair. He straightened under her gaze. "Is this how you're going to let your kingdom be ruled? With your advisors slaughtering your allies?"
The werewolves shifted, sharing looks between one another. The electricity of a fight still crackled through the air, though it was no longer clear who the opponents would be.
"Elissa." Alistair's low, warning growl echoed through the chamber. "I won't allow this. We will bring Zathrian here, and both parties will - "
"You would continue discussions with a liar? What else isn't he telling us?" Elissa snapped her head towards Kalya. "And you . I thought you were all about payback and retribution? Should have known you'd abandon the cause at the first hint revenge might be difficult."
Kalya's jaw set. That was never good either. "And I should have known an arrogant shem would rather steal the peace treaties off a corpse than right a wrong!"
Elissa nodded with false eagerness. "Please, tell me more about your knowledge of the situation. Is it your expertise as a barmaid that bolsters your insubordination? Or as an apprentice eviscerated by her Crow brothers and defeated on her first contract?"
Kalya's chest heaved. Her teeth bared with as much ferocity as one of the beasts.
As if struck by absurdity, Elissa coughed out a laugh. "Being a Grey Warden for a month doesn't give you the authority to question me. But I'll let you know if we need counsel on being a drunk."
At the edge of his gaze, Alistair could see the werewolves glancing awkwardly amongst themselves, unsure whether this was some trap or distraction. The Lady of the Forest shook her head to still them from any action that would accelerate bloodshed. Even so, his own hand tensed toward the weapon at his side.
Elissa took in the rigid werewolves, the horrified party members, and Alistair's warning glare, then chuckled demurely. Ever the politician. "But we should settle personal matters after we resolve our dispute with the lying knife-ears."
"Oh, you can deal with my knife right here," Kalya said. A sudden glint in the torchlight, her blade slid out of her sleeve.
At the tension-snap of Kalya's movement, Alistair's instincts took over. His sword was pulled nearly out of its sheath as the elf fell upon their leader. Alistair fought to quiet the gush of adrenaline surging through his veins. Kalya had this. But if he needed to act, he was ready.
Surprisingly, Elissa wasn't. Perhaps she didn't think the elf had it in her to pounce off a plinth like she had.
Kalya landed on Elissa's chest, clasping her midsection between both thighs. Sitting tall, she squeezed the warrior's arms too tightly for her to reach her sword.
Elissa lowered her center of gravity into a squat, squirming wildly, unable to get the elf off. Kalya was slipping, though, and when she slid low enough, Elissa reared her head back and butted it into Kalya's forehead. Ow?
The rogue fell to the temple floor, wind knocked out of her. With a roar of frustration, Elissa finally extracted her broadsword, swinging it over her head. The weapon's wide arc was too slow. Kalya rolled out of the way before it bashed into the stone floor, sending sparks flying.
Then all at once, Kalya was behind Elissa, jerking her blade towards the woman's neck, missing skin by centimeters. As it was, the knife ricocheted off Elissa's mail, sending another small spray of sparks around them.
Elissa swung solidly but without precision as Kalya danced out of the way. Finally, a pommel swing connected against Kalya's forearm and knocked the knife out of her hand.
A tight ball of worry coiled in Alistair's throat at the fight's sudden imbalance. He swallowed it down when Kalya dropped backwards onto her hands, kicking a leg up brutally into Elissa's elbow. Like a branch, Elissa's arm snapped backwards, causing her to drop her broadsword.
The warrior leapt on Kalya, with one arm clutched limply against her chest, and the two tousled on the ground with only their strength against one another; no weapons.
Wolves stepped back as the women rolled on the temple floor. Kalya was using Elissa's size against her, and once she was on top, she stabilized her knees against the ground and slammed a hammer fist into Elissa's eye.
Alistair winced. This wasn't going to end well, however it ended.
Elissa torqued her hips off the ground, flipping the two again until Kalya was flat on her back. It was then that Alistair caught another glint. A second blade, loosening from its spot in Kalya's boot. Their leader slammed an open palm against Kalya's nose, coating them both in a spray of blood. With the distraction of the gore, Alistair bet no one else witnessed Kalya's hand snake down to extract her hidden weapon.
Without warning, a crisp whoosh hardened the air in the room. Ice crystals crackled, and when the chilling fog cleared, Morrigan stood behind the women, arms out defiantly in front of her.
The Cone of Cold elongated out from the witch's hands, ending in a widened horn containing the two women frozen in battle, their skin blue and crystalline.
Morrigan strode towards the shimmering ice, then swirled her hands - now glowing red - above the structure. With rivulets of water falling like wax, the cone began melting around the women.
Alistair turned to see Oghren glancing furtively around, searching for a signal to strike. Leliana's eyes still glistened with tears at Elissa's horrible suggestion, but her lip curled and her bicep was flexed. It occurred to Alistair that she was standing behind Oghren in an odd manner. As if using the dwarf to hide an already-nocked bow.
When Elissa stumbled ungracefully out of the frozen structure, she snatched up her broadsword with her good arm and shot a scowl at Morrigan. "You've made your point. You'll recall I recommended avoiding this."
The witch just glared.
At the base of the ice, Kalya had been more thoroughly encased, apparently making her harder to wake. Morrigan moved to extract her limp body, warming her in a glowing grip.
Elissa spun towards the other party members. "Anyone else have tactics to recommend? No?"
Zev stepped forward with a snarl, daggers in hand and arms spread wide. Elissa just smirked and began stalking towards him.
Alistair unsheathed his sword.
"Zevran!" Morrigan warned with a pointed look towards the elf's legs that Alistair couldn't discern. "She'll be fine. Not here."
The assassin was taut as a bowstring. His heaving chest and singular glare trained on Elissa with such rage, Alistair couldn't be sure he'd even heard the witch's warning.
"Wise." Elissa spun back to look at the wolves, but when she caught sight of Alistair's drawn sword, her eyes actually rolled.
"Found your spine, I see," she spat. "Are we really going to do this now?"
"Call them off," Alistair growled through clenched teeth. "Or I will."
Zevran and Leliana appeared at Alistair's side, weapons drawn. His muscles tensed with the adrenaline of the fight.
"I don't control them," Elissa said with mock innocence. "Let's ask them , shall we? Lady of the Forest, do you still wish to parley?"
"I do." The glowing spirit's voice echoed through the cavern. "Perhaps if he sees the might of the Grey Wardens behind us, he will reconsider lifting the curse."
Elissa's false smile roiled Alistair's blood. "You see?" She turned to face the Lady of the Forest. "Now, could I trouble you for a shorter path back to camp?"
Flexing and retracting her joints as she ran was the only way Kalya could combat the stiff cramping that stayed in the bones long after being thawed. The chill of sprinting under an autumn night's sky had nothing on being frozen solid.
Kalya rotated her wrists as they pumped, working her tainted blood back into her limbs.
She'd awoken on the ground of the overgrown temple to the cacophony of wolves loping through a cracked exit in the stonework behind them. Tension still hung thick in the air, and Morrigan refused to meet her eyes as she pulsed warmth through Kalya's body.
When the witch seemed confident she'd fully regained consciousness, she handed Kalya off and stormed after their leader, who had left the temple with the wolves. Zevran and Alistair helped her to her feet, while Leliana draped a cloak around Kalya's shoulders to calm her shivering.
Her bones had ached, begging for rest in the dripping cold of the temple, but there was no time. The four slipped silently through the hole in the stonework and ran after the others.
Passing Oghren on the rocky path, they heard the dwarf grumbling about Elissa losing the plot and a few other colorful phrases as he gestured off into the distance.
Dried blood still crusted on Kalya's face. Rooting through her pack, she extracted a potion and bit the cap off, downing the earthy liquid as they ran. The last bit of her headache dissipated and her broken nose righted into place.
Zevran gave a nod beside her, an unspoken question of her well-being. Kalya returned the gesture as she tried to formulate a plan of attack.
Should she try again to execute Elissa after the battle commenced? Murder the wolves to protect the Dalish - wolves who didn't ask to be a pawn in Elissa's game? Shout a warning to Zathrian and deal with Elissa's wrath only if they both survived the coming battle?
Anger simmered from Alistair. The measured restraint that tightened his jaw was a reaction she knew well in herself, but it looked foreign on the usually composed warrior. After minutes of running in silence, his head gave an inclination of warning to the group, who slowed as they found the wolves pacing about a kilometer outside the Dalish Camp.
The creatures buzzed with nervous energy, stilled for the moment by the Lady of the Forest. When the group got close enough to notice Elissa's absence, the spirit raised an ethereal arm and gestured towards the bend of a hill to the south.
Alistiar blasted from their ranks and rounded the corner, shouting Elissa's name.
When Kalya could see what was happening, she skidded to a stop behind him. Facing off behind the hill, Elissa's sword was drawn, held aloft in her non-dominant hand, while her other was clutched like a broken wing against her stomach. Her eye darkened purple where Kalya had slammed her. It was clear she hadn't yet been healed by Morrigan, who stood solidly several paces away, staff held aloft.
"There's no need for further bloodshed," Morrigan said. "Call off the wolves, or you can fight with a broken arm."
Elissa puffed up her chest with a sneer. "You needn't make me the villain. Peace is up to Zathrian. Plead your case to him ."
"Enough!" Alistair bellowed. "Elissa, I order you to stand down."
"You order?" Elissa's eyes narrowed. "She drew her staff on me!"
"Drop your weapon."
The warrior quirked her head, then straightened. "Yes, Commander ." She exhaled a breath, fastening her broadsword against her back. "Oh, won't your uncle just be tickled."
Shouting from around the path's bend drew the party back to the clearing, where Dalish sentries were emerging from the line of trees and calling out for support.
The Lady of the Forest watched with measured calm as elven archers emerged from the woods and knelt in a staggered formation.
Elissa drew a breath to shout, but Alistair silenced her with a warning glare Kalya had never seen. The man looked larger and more weighed down all at once. As he strode out to meet the elves, he gave a nod to Zevran who wrenched her good arm behind her back.
"Unhand me," she hissed.
Zevran flashed his teeth. "Commander's orders." The tweak he gave to her wrist winced her eyes shut. "Unless you wish me to hold your other arm."
For a moment, all was silent. The werewolves tensed into stillness, and even Alistair stopped in his tracks. Finally, Zathrian strode out from the forest with stiff rage as he took in the sight of the Wardens standing alongside the wolves. Only his raised hand stilled the archers' arrows in place.
"So it has come to this." Zathrian stopped at the center of the clearing. "The Grey Wardens betray us after all."
Alistair straightened. "The Grey Wardens request a parley . There needn't be bloodshed here."
"You are twice the fool I thought," Zathrian snorted. "Such a request after the horrors they've done proves you side with rabid, uncontrollable beasts."
The Lady of the Forest spoke, echoing in everyone's ears. " You began this Zathrian; not they. You summoned me and placed me in the body of the dread wolf. This is your doing."
"These beasts deserve nothing but to suffer for what they did! They and all their descendants!"
Swiftrunner roared from beside the Lady of the Forest. "You will end this curse. End it or you will all die!"
"Never!" Zathrian spat. "Death first! You shall suffer as I suffer."
A ball formed in Kalya's throat. The chance for peace had passed.
With somber resignation, the Lady of the Forest melted into her white wolf form, beautiful and snarling. Her army of werewolves threw their heads back in a howling war cry before charging forward, crashing into the crowd of elves at the forest's edge.
Horror took the place of rage only for a moment. Kalya staggered back a step, hand flying to her mouth. When her senses sharpened, she launched herself towards the beasts. Alistair pushed farther into the fray, with Zevran at his heels, slicing through the creatures as they momentarily turned away from the Dalish.
The others followed suit. Oghren fanned to the other side of Alistair's offensive, and Leliana and Morrigan found cover behind trees to volley their attacks.
But there were just too many of them. Maybe one in twenty wolves was pelted with enough of the elves' arrows to slow their advance. The rest simply ripped them out and tossed them aside like twigs. As Kalya pulled a handful of archers to safety, she watched the wolves fall upon Zathrian, shredding through his leather armor with ease.
Then, with wounded still moaning on the battlefield, the werewolves sprinted on.
Propping a dying archer against a tree, Kalya spared a look back at Elissa. The woman had her one good hand on her hip, staring smugly ahead.
Blood rushed through Kalya's ears. The singular impulse to end this madness clouded all rational thought. And the sensation of running a blade across Elissa's soft neck felt as palpable as if she were doing it right now.
She rose and stalked toward Elissa, daggers in hand. Then, suddenly, something stilled her. Kalya's legs felt frozen in place, as if stuck in the ground. A physical presence, unseen but pulsing with energy, wrapped around her body and echoed through her head.
"Don't."
One word, gravelly and distant. And familiar.
Air shimmered in the clearing before Kalya. Gooseflesh pricked on her arms as her body simply refused to let her walk forward. A shadow threatened to take shape in the air before her, then rippled away - leaving an ethereal outline of ghost-white hair, curled into long pointed horns.
It had been a long time since Kalya had thought of the witch who saved her that day outside of Denerim so many lifetimes ago.
Angry tears welled up in her eyes. Whether this was payment seized for the favor or simply a warning, Kalya couldn't be certain. But only when her will weakened in earnest, so too was the grip loosened from around her.
Elissa noticed Kalya now, as the shadow dissolved into nothingness. She quirked her head at the rogue's silent glare.
"This is Zathrian's doing, Kalya," Elissa bellowed, echoing across the clearing. "This would have happened with or without our intervention."
All at once, it was entirely too quiet. What a fool Kalya had been, thinking the wolves would cease once they had taken out the elven archers. She launched towards the Dalish Camp, sprinting as fast as she could, but the rising sounds of carnage let her know she was too late.
Her companions were already assisting with the wounded, who were snatched from their aravels and tents, half-dying or already dead.
Kalya saw Lenaya in the distance, holding her staff high towards Swiftrunner as another werewolf crashed into her midsection, jaws wide. The beasts passed into the tents behind them, ripping young and old from where they lay and shaking them like ragdolls.
Then: quiet. The crackle of smoldering tents was the only sound that permeated the haze.
The wolves had run off, having apparently no further fight with the Warden party who had turned on them.
Bruised and bloodied, Zevran staggered to Kalya's side and pulled her into a tight embrace. She buried her forehead on his shoulder, feeling him shake with silent tears.
When she finally pulled back, she could hear Elissa crunching through the leaves several paces behind them. She made no remark as she passed to take in what was left of the Dalish Camp.
Zevran kept a protective hold on Kalya's shoulder when Morrigan walked slowly to Kalya's other side, looking soberly over the destruction. It took everything in Kalya to keep her tensed muscles from uncoiling on the very person who'd stopped her attempt to prevent all this. But her real enemy was Elissa. Elissa .
The witch's gaze leveled on Elissa walking through the wreckage below. "She was going to kill them one way or another. If not here, they'd have been cannon-fodder in the battle with the archdemon in a month's time. These elves were doomed the moment Zathrian crossed her."
Kalya said nothing. Her muscles ached with the effort it took to stay still.
In the tense quiet, Zevran ducked into Kalya's line of sight, searching her eyes. She nodded him away. Zev was itchy for a fight on a good day. He turned in the dirt and marched away, leaving the women alone.
"'Tis of no consolation... but killing one third of the remaining Wardens does your cause no good. All of our causes. Secretive as your Order is, three of you may not even be enough."
"You're right," Kalya spat. "It is no consolation."
A chill breeze blew some dried leaves between them. "Well, there will be plenty of time to discuss her demotion on the long road back to Redcliffe."
That made Kalya huff out a joyless breath, and she finally met Morrigan's eyes. "You think Elissa will march alongside us as... a footsoldier?"
Morrigan squinted back. "Elissa's no fool. There's plenty of political glory in defeating the archdemon. And she won't like it, but she'll play nice with Alistair if she wants a Ferelden left to save."
"I wonder if you'd have intervened if it was your people she was slaughtering."
Morrigan squared to Kalya, narrowing her eyes. "Are you intentionally missing my point, or do you truly believe I was complicit?" She blew out an impatient huff of air. "The moment the archdemon is downed, do whatever you like to each other."
With that, Morrigan stormed off through the trees.
Kalya turned back toward the smoking wreckage, taut with rage and bursting with the urge to eviscerate something. Instead, she crumpled to her knees and buried her face in her hands as Zevran came sprinting back to her side.
The musicians of the Gnarled Noble struck up a merry beat just as Taliesen stepped through the door, almost as if it had been fanfare for his entrance.
He scratched roughly at his chin. Being in Ferelden always made him itchy. How an entire continent could abide keeping dogs in their living spaces, their Chantries, their eating establishments was beyond him.
Still, he was in good spirits, all things considered. He'd landed at port a few days prior and was eagerly making himself at home in the cozy town of Denerim. How quaint Fereldans were with their… mud and cold. He so looked forward to discovering just how they kept themselves warm and occupied in these chilly evenings.
Taliesen scanned the room before choosing a seat, still thumbing his jaw.
A shock of black hair pulled into a tight leather band caught his eye immediately. He always liked the serious ones. Watching them come undone in his hands was second only to the ones whose dominating extended to the bedroom. It was nice to let someone else undo him once in a while.
The woman was seated at the end of the bar. Taliesen was quite sure none of the other patrons had the guts to interrupt her stern reverie. He made his way slowly over to her and leaned against the bar, bowing his head to catch her eye.
"Buy you a drink?"
Quick as a flash, the woman was on her feet, and the hand he'd just leaned on was pinned behind his back. Maker, she was strong.
"You don't think I've seen you?" she spat. "In the square. Why are you following me?"
Taliesen chuckled, raising his free hand where she could see it.
"I got it, I got it. Stealth failure. My mistake." He blinked slowly at her. "I've been looking for you, Ser Cauthrien."
"' Lieutenant ,'" she corrected. She didn't let go of his arm, pressing her body weight against his. Blood began rushing southward, as it always did in times like these. Part of him hoped she'd notice.
"I'm looking for some elves."
Cauthrien's nostrils flared. "Try the Alienage."
"Mmm, no. While I've only just landed at port, from what I've heard, you're the better person to ask."
This caused her eyes to narrow. She wagered a downward glance at his armor, trying to discern whose flag he served. "And what have you heard?"
"My associate has two assassins gone missing. They were presumed dead and then, wouldn't you know? They showed up at a tavern all the way out in the badlands quite alive some weeks back."
Apparently, the story was sufficiently interesting enough to earn his arm back. The lieutenant sank back into her barstool, eyes trained on him.
"You're a Crow," she said, a statement rather than a question. She raised her flagon of ale back to her pink lips.
Taliesen rubbed the tender area of his wrist. The ghosted imprint of her pressure against him was as intoxicating as any booze.
"I am. They think they're defecting from my little group, and my little group frowns on such things. And now I have word they're to be in town soon." He paused, waiting for some confirmation on her face. None appeared. "Some people they're traveling with will be participating in an upcoming Landsmeet?"
Cauthrien blew out a breath, still avoiding his gaze. "You want an audience with the Wardens? Get in line."
"Actually, just the elves they're traveling with." Once upon a time, he'd have added a snarky "as I said." But he was a different man now. He wanted her to relish the control she had over him. Well, figuratively...
Lieutenant Cauthrien released a frustrated sigh and returned to her flagon.
Taliesen tried one last time for diplomacy. "If you and I work together, we could both get what we want. It'd be worth your while." Ah, fuck it. "And I'd hate to disrupt the Landsmeet, what with so much riding on it."
As quickly as before, Cauthrien was on him once again, this time pressing a knife against his throat. It bit into his skin. He gulped on purpose, just to scrape his Adam's apple against her blade.
"I… wouldn't do that," Taliesen said, an unaffected smirk creeping across his face.
It took longer than he'd expected for her to realize all chatter in the bar stopped. Even the musicians stopped, which pouted Taliesen's lower lip.
Cauthrien looked around at the eyes on her. Glinting weapons pointing her way from every corner of the bar suddenly had her attention.
"Now, my stealth needs work," Taliesen said, "but my friends are very stealthy."
Her face betrayed no surprise, no fear. But he could feel her heartbeat thrumming against him reaching the tip of her knife. A skilled lieutenant indeed.
Cauthrien sunk back into her wooden stool. She deposited her knife on the bar and raised yielding hands for the onlooking Crows to see before turning to him. "What do you want?"
Taliesen worked the corner of his lip between his teeth as he studied her. "Would you believe I just want to buy you a drink?"