"Changes in any of 'em?" Hale looked up from an unconscious Damia. Her friend rested, trapped in a dreamless sleep in the sick wing of Vigil's Keep. Twenty-plus beds occupied by sleeping bodies; Wardens held in magically-induced rest as they sought a cure.
"We haven't lifted their spells enough to find out." The healer checked the status of another Warden on the gurney next to Damia, glancing up at Hale as he spoke. "We don't know enough about the affliction to risk it. Hopefully the Warden Commander will have some insight when he returns from Denerim."
Rolling her eyes, she gave Aiden a dead stare. "Right. 'Cause that's all they needed. For Nate," she corrected herself, "I mean, the Warden Commander to have sodding tea with the King and it'll all be better." Hale squeezed Damia's hand. "Risks are worth it. We gotta do something."
"It's not so simple with magic." Shaking his head, Aiden moved around the gurney to check on Damia. He gave a meek smile to Hale, watching the obstinate young woman care for her older friend. "Any risks we take could more widespread consequences than one Warden, or even the Wardens at Vigil's Keep. As we've learned from recent events, we could further compromise the entire Order and that could be permanent."
"Well," she sighed, and caressed Damia's hair away from her face as Aiden renewed Damia's spell. "Fuck all then."
Hills gave way to snow-capped mountains north of Vigil's Keep. Trees lined the rocky terrain, littering the ground with brown and orange, varying shades of dead leaves. The land made for fertile hunting, even with symptoms of the approaching winter changing the environment. Nugs from the nearby Deep Roads entrance wandered through a pass, traveling in a small pack.
Gloved digits relaxed from a bowstring, loosing an arrow into the still air. "Shite." The Huntress whispered, knowing the shot would miss its target as soon as it soared. She opened both eyes to watch the arrow fly by a grazing nug. The creature screeched, alerting the nearby nugs of a predator, then ran from the direction of the arrow. Its companions followed.
"Fucking bollocks." A small cloud of air formed where Hale huffed, quickly dissipating. She leaned back against the trunk of the tree where she perched, tapping her bow against the branch supporting her while she watched the first stages of sunset. Red and yellow tinged the sky, reflecting the autumn treetops.
Since her return to Vigil's Keep from Skyhold, Hale had spent downtime from Warden duties in the mountains. Nature provided refuge from comrades, freedom from responsibility. Because even with the new discovery of friends, chosen family in fellow Warden-scouts, she needed time alone. Escaping the mayhem at the Keep seemed necessary. Tense conversations and worried chatter filled the halls; concerns about the sickness impacting select brethren preoccupied most Wardens' minds, infecting her own when she allowed it. In Nate's absence, many Wardens brought their questions to her. Their fears were valid. Her relationship with Nate gave Hale insight to the precarious state of the Order of the Grey.
Wardens, and worse, Damia came to harm because the Bitch Queen Commander finally found her bloody cure, leaving the bond only to pursue selfish interests like marriage and kids . It made Hale gag. She had sampled abandoning her fellow misfits and Nate when she'd stayed behind with the Inquisition. No matter how much alcohol she drank, she couldn't ignore the craving of the bond, the longing for Nate. The recollection made a chill creep through her armor. Layers of wool, leather, and chainmail could not keep the low temperatures and painful memories at bay.
She closed her eyes to channel her mind. The Bond hummed consistently in the distance. Her connection to the collective thrummed through her bloodstream, warming her from the inside. But it lacked something vital, the warmth of her bond with the Warden Commander.
"Fucking Nate," she growled, pushing off her spot. Nimble limbs balanced on branches, carefully descending the tree to the craggy forest floor.
In practice at Vigil's Keep her arrows still landed on targets and pierced dummies, but over the last week her reliable outlet failed. When the huntress snuck away to find solitude in a hunt, shots repeatedly missed by a hair. Something was off, and she could no longer blame the missed shots on the recent cold. Admitting impairment due to Nate's absence irritated her more than the failed hunts.
"He better sodding get home soon," she mumbled to herself. He should've returned two days prior if all had gone according to plan.
An inkling of discomfort gnawed at the back of Hale's mind. Why'd he wanna stay any longer with those traitors? That bitch. She shook her head, pushing down her dislike for the queen by focusing her steps. Rocks protruded from the underbrush of the untrodden land; Hale kept her balance on the pathless decline, begrudgingly heading back toward the keep empty handed.
The trek was short, less than an hour by foot and she made it before the sun set. Buzzing connection, the hum of the Wardens strengthened as she neared, and it was powerful. She had planned to hurry and change into a clean gambeson, but a lone horse tied near the main hall caught her attention. Her heart-fluttered with relieved excitement.
"Nate." She whispered aloud, hurrying to the main entrance. She realized he hadn't even unloaded his items from the horse's bags as she passed.
Curious steps carried her to the front door. Knowing Nate well enough, Hale prepared to head straight to his office to give him a proper greeting. Gotta scold him for being gone so long. Then I'll show him how much I missed him. Her lips involuntarily curved to a mischievous grin as she opened the door.
But the smile faded. Hale's eyes narrowed on Nate who stood halfway up the stairs. Sunken eyes showed exhaustion, disheveled hair and dirty tabard suggested his ride home had been strenuous. Nate frowned down at one of his Lieutenants, standing near the stairs. Hale's head cocked to the side, focusing her attention on the conversation she overheard.
"The Junior Wardens are panicking about the illness, Commander. Another fell today, and the unaffected want assurance they won't be next. Some are refusing their duties until they receive it." The Lieutenant held a straight posture, his hands clasped behind him as he addressed Nate.
Nate shook his head, and continued ascending the steps, either not noticing or completely ignoring Hale in the doorway. "I'm sure you will figure something out. Find the Constable."
Lieutenant Isenam's footsteps echoed as he walked from the main hall to the entry. His focused stare followed the communication between the Lieutenant Cyan and the Warden Commander.
"Commander," the new Lieutenant remained calm, but the question in his tone was audible, "pardon me; the Constable is in Amaranthine per your order, sir. I'm certain hopeful words from you will calm them for now."
With an aggravated sigh, Nathaniel took a step down the stairs. "I'm not available. They are Wardens, not children. You can tell them to grow the fuck up." Not offering any other guidance, he turned his back and continued pacing up the stairs.
He's daft. Hale's jaw fell open, shocked by Nate's unprofessional and uncharacteristic behavior. Left to deal with the anxious fears of her comrades in his absence, she expected more from her duty-bound partner. Glaring at him as he walked away, she took a large step toward the stairway. "Oi! That's a right thing for the Commander to say, innit?"
Nate stopped at the top of the stairs and snorted. Without turning around, he addressed the Huntress. "I've told you insubordination is unacceptable, Hale. Add kitchen duty to your nightly responsibilities until I say otherwise."
She pointed her finger at his turned back. "That's bollocks and you know it!"
Nate turned around to face her, staring down from the upper level of the keep and frowning. "I can add more work to the list."
Glaring up at him, she gritted her teeth. The temptation to say more, to challenge his punishment as proof of her initial statement roiled in her gut. Anger made her head dizzy. Nate lifted a brow. She knew the look. He was waiting for her retaliation to earn another mark on her record.
Sodding prick wanker. Hale growled and stormed off toward the dining hall.
Nate pressed his lips together. I can't let her get away with everything. Trudging from the wooden stairway, he hurried to his office at the end of the hall before any other Wardens could interrupt him. The door closed behind him and Nate pressed against it with a sigh. Having his authority challenged by Hale heightened his anger, but his heart rate eased in the silence.
I have more important matters to address. He responded to her insult in his mind, arguing in favor of not addressing the Junior Wardens himself as the Lieutenant had requested. Groaning, he took the steps to his desk and sat down. His fingers pressed into his forehead as he leaned back, deciding on his preparation for the King's arrival the next day.
A knock came at his door and Nate looked up. Hale wouldn't knock. His frown deepened, pondering who would have the gall to bother him. Another knock preceded the door opening.
"Warden Commander," Isenam bowed his head. "May I come in?"
Nate took a deep breath and exhaled through his nose, pondering his answer to the question. One of Nathaniel's most trusted advisors, the elven man, a Senior Warden, and now Lieutenant had always been honest about his concerns, including when he advised Nathaniel to end his relationship with Hale. Taking Isenam's advice had not served Nathaniel, and had nearly cost him the Huntress. Despite that incident, Nathaniel trusted Isenam.
Without a word, Nathaniel nodded for the man to enter.
Isenam walked into the room and remained standing. "Cyan is not equipped to calm the nerves of the new Wardens."
Really? Nate rolled his eyes. "Then you deal with it, Isenam."
"If it were me the Wardens needed to hear from, I would." Isenam's tone remained neutral, unchanged by Nathaniel's agitation. "Your…" he drew the word out, delaying to find the best way to describe Hale, "young friend is perceptive."
A cynical laugh escaped the Commander. "Was that a backhanded way of saying I'm immature?"
"You are perceptive yourself," a tiny smirk broke through Isenam's stoicism, "Commander."
Exhausted on all accounts by the unfortunate situation surrounding him, Nate couldn't help but laugh. He shook his head; though overwhelmed, Nate valued Isenam's honesty.
"I have nothing hopeful to say to them, Isenam. I am not equipped for this." Professionalism faded, Nathaniel explained the uncertainty about the Warden sickness, the mission to Weisshaupt, and King Alistair's arrival the following day, along with the rest of the travel party.
"Your presence speaks more than words." The elf's certainty gave hope. "Do you believe there is a cure for whatever impairs the order?"
Nate creased his forehead; he determined his answer before he spoke. "If there is a cure, this group will find it."
"And if there is not one?" A simple twitch in Isenam's eyes caught Nathaniel's attention.
He's afraid. Nathaniel determined the Lieutenant's questions aimed to settle his concerns as much as Nathaniel's. "Then the Order will change. It has been rebuilt before."
The man blinked, holding his eyes closed a moment longer than normal. When he opened them, he stared at Nathaniel and bowed. "I recommend you communicate that to the Junior Wardens."
Nathaniel gave a simple nod. "Thank you, Isenam."
Bowing again, the Lieutenant returned to the door, preparing to leave. His hand reached toward the handle and he looked to Nathaniel again. "Your partner is brash and impulsive."
"I'm aware." Nathaniel sighed, rolling his shoulder to loosen muscles still tight from riding.
"She is brave to confront you." Not waiting for a reply, Isenam gave another small dip of his head, and departed.
"Only when she knows she's right," Nate muttered to the closed door and gazed around his office. Blurry lines drawn between his responsibilities and personal life came so far as his workspace, which also served as his bedroom. The tidy desk organized his work, and his room, usually well kept, held reminders of Hale's influence. Her breast band hid partially under the head of his bed, of which the splintered headboard gave evidence of their forays. I should replace that.
Her hairbrush lay on his bedside table; left among his belongings. None of her trinkets intruded on his desk, a passive display of her respect for his work. After calming the Wardens he needed to apologize to her.
Rising from his chair, Nate removed layers of light armor, and pulled off the Warden gambeson as he walked to the sink basin in the corner of his room. Worries pulled him back to the mission ahead. The vague plan unsettled him; a month's travel to a destination with an unclear goal. Three mages, the King of Ferelden fighting sword and shield, and Nathaniel a lone archer and scout made an unfit team to confront the unknown enemies they could face. But the trip would be slowed drastically by a larger party.
Lost in thought, Nate dipped a linen cloth into the basin and wrung the fabric; he barely noticed the trickling of the water back into the basin. The calming coolness of the cloth to his neck, face, and shoulders contradicted the anxious thoughts of the quest as he washed off the sweat and dirt of the rushed trip home.
With a new shirt donned, and a clean gambeson secured over, Nate proceeded to the dining hall. Divided by ranks, Junior Wardens and Senior Wardens occupied separate rows of tables. Officers sat together, and the scouts did the same. Hale sat among her comrades, those unaffected by the illness. The small group engaged in reserved conversation, Hale leading the dialogue. He walked past their table to the wall at the other end of the room.
When Wardens first began falling to the disruption in the bond, the soldiers were unsettled. Meals eaten in silence, worried whispers pondered the source of the disruption. Now they voiced their questions aloud, struggling to come to terms with the risk they all faced, while continuing with their lives and responsibilities.
Curious eyes followed Nathaniel to the head of the room. Wardens watched him, quieting conversations, eager to hear any news he brought regarding their status. Clearing his throat, Nate summoned the attention of the room, chatter ceased to silence down the hall.
Years of listening to Caoilainn's powerful speeches had not prepared Nathaniel. With the knowledge his speeches would never compare, he settled for simplistic.
He spoke low and clear, unwilling to yell or raise his voice above its usual gruffness. His hands remained by his sides. "Wardens, I will not lie to you. Your fears are valid, and as this illness claims more, the solution remains unclear. Our Order is at risk." He paused, considering his next words. "But I will not idly wait for it to be destroyed. The King of Ferelden, himself a former Warden, will arrive at Vigil's Keep tomorrow in preparation for a quest to Weisshaupt. I will be joining him and a select team of mages. We will search for a cure and no matter the outcome, we will rebuild."
A few slow claps echoed in the silence before the patrons realized the rest of the room did not join in applause. Faces showed confusion, mouths open, eyebrows scrunched; stares held on Nathaniel, seeking more, any information about the sickness that haunted them, answers to the nerve-wracking fears that plagued them all, but he had none. Nathaniel did not open the room to discussion; he did not offer to take questions.
Nodding to his audience, he muttered for them to enjoy their meals. Whispers of Caoilainn, the former Commander resonated around him, but he did not address them. Instead, he walked the direction from which he came, this time pausing at the scouts' table. He stood behind Hale; the woman kept her back turned, facing her companions. Nate cleared his throat again. "Hale, please join me in my office."
Ignoring him, the Huntress took another bite of her food. The food teased him. Hunger pains stabbed the inside of his stomach, but he ignored the discomfort, and waited to see how Hale would respond.
Hale made a wry laugh, and pushed away her bowl. She rose from her seat, lanky legs stepping over the bench she shared with her comrades. Sighing, Nate continued his walk out of the dining hall, glancing over his shoulder to spot Hale giving a sarcastic wave to her friends.
Persistent strides took him through the hallway, avoiding the still-seeking stares of Wardens who had not returned to their meals. Hale's steps followed behind, not joining his side; reminding him of his position as her superior and not simply her partner. Frustrated with the woman, relating to her anger, he tamed his annoyance so they could reach his room.
Nathaniel let Hale in first, inhaling the reminiscent scent of the forest as she passed. The woman strode to the center of his room, and turned to face him; dismissive of his decorum, she crossed her arms. Smeared make-up and messy-hair suggested she had recently returned from a hunt, something he'd missed when he'd scolded her earlier that evening. The rebellious creature reliably contrasted the order of his office.
Nate let the door click shut behind him, and walked past Hale to sit on the edge of his desk.
Her eyes followed him, and her feet turned his direction. Hale's arms still crossed, she tilted her head with curiosity.
He exhaled through his nose. "I'm sorry."
With a huff, Hale straightened her posture. "Don't be. You warned me before you left."
"But you were right." Nate's hand massaged the back of his neck and he looked toward the ground. "I was not taking responsibility as Commander."
Rigid posture softened; Hale shifted on her feet. "Well, I could've said it different. Didn't know king whoreson's on his way, and now you're leaving again." The sad lilt in her voice with her last statement stirred something in Nate's chest.
He gave a weak smile, appreciating Hale identifying the source of his stress. "You could have, that's true. And yes, I am." He paused, focusing on her stare. "I want you to go with me."
Her eyebrows lifted, surprised and amused. She giggled. "I can't. Some arsehole put me on kitchen duties."
Chuckling, Nate shook his head. "I retract the punishment. I need another scout and fighter." He had made his choice before his speech to the Wardens. Though young and newer to the order than the Senior Wardens, Hale's skills were invaluable, and selfishly, he would appreciate her company on the trip.
"Really?" Wide eyes stared at him, twinkling with the excitement of a new adventure. "You want me to join you, with the King, all the way to Weiss-it-called. That's a big sodding deal." A passing thought pulled her attention; she put her hands on her hips. "But I don't want yer special fucking treatment, Nate."
The words bit and he flinched, holding his tongue. That's a lie. Pressing his lips together, Nate took a breath before responding, torn between arguing with her and avoiding confrontation prior to his trip.
"You're a gifted scout." Nate crossed his arms this time. "You're proficient with a bow, adequate with daggers, and I like it when you're near me. I'm not willing to lie about that."
Blushing, Hale looked at her boots. "I wanted to be here when Damia wakes up." She glanced up sheepishly.
He hummed acknowledgment, closed his eyes, and nodded. Hale's relationship with the other scout predated theirs. Not the jealous type, lacking understanding of banal rules of coupling, Nate attempted to quash any sense of possession over the Huntress. Without formalities of monogamy, their relationship was unencumbered by unmet expectations. But even after she admitted her love, and he reciprocated, his feelings for the young woman grew.
"I understand." The best he could; Hale's experience with partnership was just as inhibited. Yet words requesting an exclusive relationship sat on the tip of his tongue. "I can take another scout if you would rather stay with Damia, but I need you to choose."
For a half-second, her forehead knitted with suspicion. But the moment passed, and her expression eased to an earnest stare; Hale nodded agreement. She stepped to him and smiled. "Yer starkers if you think you could leave without me." Another giggle and she added, "But you know I'll probly piss off the king, right?"
"I'm counting on it." Nate laughed audibly, and pulled her in for a kiss.