Fiona followed the other riders along the North Road. They kept a steady pace, relief from hard riding, now trotting through the hilly land. Light breezes carried a persistent chill; Fiona pulled her cloak tight around her. The repetitive motion of her horse trotting and the monotony of trees passing in her periphery made a feeble distraction from the mages bickering ahead. Adept and inclined to irritate Philippa, the Champion of Kirkwall was amusing himself.
Similar to Fiona, Alistair rode in silence at her side. Worry needled her mind, and though she tried to not to, she kept looking at him. Each time, it landed on a man lost in thought; downcast eyes, and an inattentive frown, sometimes his head tilted from side to side as if weighing options in an inner monologue.
She sighed; frustrated with the circumstances, the sight of him unhappy and her hesitation to help. He can't find out. She had long since vowed to keep distance, swearing he could never find out the truth of his parentage. Yet from the moment Fiona began helping the Inquisition, she had slipped. Asking the Inquisitor about Alistair after the events at Redcliffe, healing his wife on the battlefield in the Arbor Wilds, joining with Philippa and Morrigan to cure them both, she teetered close to the line she had established to protect herself, to protect him from knowing the truth.
"Your father would be proud." Fiona still scolded herself for the verbal blunder she'd made before he left Skyhold. Immediate confusion had crossed his face; his eyes had filled with questions that she could not answer. Instead, she had left Alistair to take of his wife as the couple healed from the cure.
When she'd met Alistair again at Denerim Palace it seemed the inquiries had faded. Both relieved and saddened to find more pressing matters had taken priority for him; she assumed the situation with the Wardens, and whatever tension grew between him and his wife took precedence. From listening to conversations between Philippa and Morrigan, Fiona had surmised what had happened between the Queen and Warden Commander Howe. Fiona diligently refrained from creating opinions on the woman. Certain the Hero of Ferelden, the woman Alistair loved, held some redeeming qualities; Fiona found herself unable to judge. She had abandoned her baby. What worse betrayal is there?
As her thoughts wandered, the bickering between Philippa and Hawke grew louder, pulling Fiona from her attention. She slowed her horse, noticing the same from Alistair as he came out of his personal introspection.
The sorceress yelled. "Degenerate son of a bitch! I will not be spoken to in such a way by anyone, Champion or not." Philippa's horse neighed in response to her exclamation.
"What?" Hawke's grin was audible through his mock surprise. "It was a compliment. Whatever age-reversing magic you are using is working wonders. And my mother was the kindest woman I have ever met, thank you."
"Enough!" Philippa pulled the reins of her mare until it came to a halt. Hawke's horse made it a few strides further up the path before he did the same and turned around.
The sorceress sat straighter, rigid posture and pinched lips. She addressed Alistair. "Excuse me, your majesty. But with the approaching dusk, I would say this is a good place for us to stop." She glanced toward Fiona and widened her eyes, nodding her head. "Don't you agree, Fiona?"
Sunset neared, but they still had at least another half hour they could continue their trek. But Philippa was right. The spot would make a good location for camp. A clearing near the top of a hill, nearby trees provided enough cover. It would allow a lookout to monitor any approaching travelers long before their arrival, without giving their location away to any bandits.
Alistair glanced to Fiona and she shrugged, giving a tilted nod to confirm. He smiled weakly. "We'll camp here then."
Hawke made no argument so the group dismounted and tied their horses. The group set their tents around a small campfire as evening fell. Brisk weather had followed them from Denerim. The sunlight's meager warmth vanished by the time dusk came.
They sat near the fire as they ate their rations for the night. Hawke hummed to himself; a glazed look over his eyes suggested he daydreamed. The sorceress, Philippa, held a bread roll in one hand and generated magical light with another; she studied the content of a large text open in her lap. Alistair stared into the fire. He barely touched his food.
Should I say something? Fiona fidgeted, flexing her hand as she debated starting conversation; to let Alistair find a distraction from whatever unpleasant thoughts she imagined occupied his mind, or at least vent them for someone else to hear.
"I will take watch first tomorrow if I can sleep tonight." Alistair blinked out of his thoughts and vocalized the offer to the group.
Philippa twirled her hand to usher Alistair to do what he wanted, allowing her to return to her book.
The other three divided responsibilities. Hawke offered to take watch first and Fiona offered second. Once she agreed, Alistair went to his tent without another word and Fiona's opportunity to talk with him disappeared. She pressed her lips together.
Probably for the best. Not talking to Alistair would repair those boundaries she had established and recently ignored. The regret diminished, but her concern remained as she finished her meal and went to bed.
Despite the concerns for Alistair, she quickly found sleep for the first half of the night until Hawke woke her.
"Fiona, it's your turn." Hawke's yawning voice woke her.
She opened her eyes, reorienting herself with her location and task.
"I'll be right there." Rising from her bedroll, she grabbed a coat. An extra layer of clothes to help keep her warm in the hours of silence she was about to endure.
When she walked out of her tent, she spotted the campfire still blazing. Hawke had tended it well. Standing near his tent, his staff in one hand, Hawke narrowed his eyes at Fiona.
"Should be a fun night... morning." He chuckled, correcting himself. After another yawn, he refocused his gaze on her. "So... what's your story, Fiona?"
Why did he say my name like that? She wrinkled her forehead at the question. "Not an interesting one."
"Certainly one such as yourself, former Grand Enchanter, would have some interesting stories to tell." He flourished his hand in her direction to give a half bow.
Does he know? She had not divulged her time with the Wardens to any in the group. Her history with the order would provoke too many unwanted questions.
"Not really." She blinked slowly, trying to ignore the distinct pounding of her heart in her ears. "The disaster at Redcliff is well known enough. I don't think you need me to explain."
"I heard about it." Hawke nodded and stood straighter. "I'm more interested in what your life was like before you were Grand Enchanter. Would anyone be looking for you?"
"Not that I can think of." She shook her head and yawned, stretching before she sat down. "Now that's answered, can I interrogate you?"
"I'm an open book." He grinned and crossed his arms. "What do you want to know?"
"Does it work?" Settling into her spot by the campfire, the weight of fear lifted from her shoulders, relieved at the change in topic.
"Hm? You'll have to be more specific. I have a lot of things that work quite well."
She gave a small smirk. "Your sarcasm. Does it help you forget about what you saw in Kirkwall?"
His eyes widened before his smile returned. "Ooh. Nice one. Low blow, but well done."
"I'll take that as a no." She pursed her lips in a sympathetic frown.
"I," he started, prepared to respond, but he stopped and looked away. When he looked back, he mumbled, "I need to go to bed."
Without another word, Hawke entered his tent.
"Sleep well, Hawke." Fiona spoke loud enough for him to hear over the campfire.
She settled into her spot to take watch. Stars filled the night sky, providing sufficient light of the expanse of land on either side. She stared into the crackling fire pit; its dancing flames illuminating their camp. During occasional scans around the vicinity, she rose and checked the distance on all sides of their location. When the campfire waned, she added firewood.
The hours dragged. Heavy blinks warned of sleep taking her, and Fiona pinched her arm. After enough times, she took her canteen and trickled a few drops of the icy water into her hands to splash her face. It woke her up but prompted chill. She wrapped her cloak even tighter.
But the uneventful watch ended when a distant light appeared rounding the curve of the neighboring hilltop, following the path from the direction of Vigil's Keep. Fiona narrowed her eyes to see if she could define the source, but it was too far away. The light, an orange spot, must have been a lantern. It moved toward their encampment.
She wrung her hands, watching the distant light growing closer. It was too late to extinguish the fire; she needed to wake the others.
"Hawke," she rasped, sticking her head in his tent.
The mage had curled up under his bedclothes, his mouth gaping as he slept. She grabbed his foot and shook it, calling louder this time, "Hawke!"
He grumbled.
"Hawke! Someone is coming!" She said again, pulling off his blanket.
"Andraste's-" Hawke stammered, this chill waking him. "I'm up. I'm up. What is it?"
"Someone's coming. Fast." She looked out the tent toward the moving form. It was already halfway to their camp.
"On it." He rose and pulled a jacket on, not bothering to fasten it.
The pair split their efforts and woke the other two up. Fiona went to Philippa's tent as Hawke woke Alistair, informing them to grab their weapons; the pair rushed out of their beds, dazed, and stumbling over questions.
"It feels like darkspawn, but it's coming from the Keep and those wretched demons don't use lanterns." Philippa frowned; the only one among them with the ability to sense the creatures, she distanced herself from the camp. Her comrades followed.
"Get ready." The familiar wave of Fade energy resonated from Hawke's staff. Fiona did the same, accessing the power within the cool connection to the parallel realm.
"Great," Alistair muttered, pulling his sword from its sheath. "First night of our trip and something's gone wrong."
"Bitching about it serves less purpose than breasts on a bull." Philippa side-eyed the King and powered her staff.
The person neared; a human with bright red hair in a tattered Warden uniform. Fiona lowered her staff, releasing her grip on the magical power she held in her mind. This was no enemy. But as the unnamed Warden drew closer, she noticed his sallow skin and sunken eyes, white and glazed.
"Ben?" Hand extended, Philippa stepped forward, reaching toward her fellow soldier.
Hawke placed his hand on Philippa's shoulder. "I wouldn't."
"A ghoul," Alistair cringed, scowling at the visitor.
The man spoke but his expression remained blank, emotionless. "Help me, please."
"Not quite," Hawke looked over his shoulder to Alistair. "I've seen this before."
Fiona had also seen ghouls; Utha, her comrade in the Deep Roads, among others during the Blight. However, this man appeared to be conscious, and troubled by his situation.
"Please-" The ghoul lunged toward Philippa; she gasped and jumped back, initiating a spell. A ball of flames surrounded the head of her staff. Hawke, Alistair, and Fiona surrounded Philippa, protecting her from Ben.
"Please, this madness. I can't take it. Just kill me." Begging without fervor, Ben drawled, slow lifeless speech.
"What madness, Ben? Tell us." Fiona's soft words coaxed more information from the man.
"I can't." He shook his head. "I ran from the Keep when I felt it. They don't want me to sleep that way. Like the others."
The way the healers induce dreamless sleep in the sick wing. Fiona suspected meaning from the young man's confession. Something is calling him from the Fade.
"Who is they?" She pressed her hand down on the air, calming him. "Do you mean darkspawn?"
"No. I can't say."
Standing straighter, Philippa's forehead creased. "We need more information, Ben, for the Order. We won't take your life unless you help us."
"Why can't he do that himself?" Alistair let his sword hand lower as he vocalized the question to no one in particular. He looked around him to the group.
"They won't let me." Ben stepped toward them.
"You," Hawke leaned his staff toward Ben, "you don't come any closer."
"I don't want to hurt anyone." The ghoul took another step.
Magic induced vibrations rang through Fiona's bones as Hawke threw a spell at Ben.
"No!" She yelled in unison with Philippa, both women reaching their hands out to Hawke from either side. Killing Ben too early prevented them from gathering useful information to help the Wardens at the Keep.
It was too late. The spell had landed; the reverberation of its power still surrounding them. The women stared at Hawke with wide eyes, exasperated at his impulsiveness. Hawke ignored them, keeping his eyes locked ahead.
Philippa huffed, "Idiot-"
"Look," Alistair dipped his head toward the ghoul.
Fiona looked away from Hawke to the Warden. Trapped in a magical prison, he continued mumbling emotionless pleas, inaudible over the sound of the active spell's vibrations. He seemed to be in pain.
"It's hurting him." Grimacing, Alistair whispered.
"It won't kill him, but I can't hold this forever." Hawke strained to talk, yelling for them all to hear over the sound of the cage. "He'll go to the darkspawn, or whoever 'they' is, and they'll use him for Maker knows what if we don't end it now."
"Who is controlling you if not darkspawn, Ben? We need to know." Philippa called to Ben through his cage.
"Is it a demon? Demons?" Fiona asked.
The trapped man only shook his head in response, his mouth forming 'no.'
We have no choice. Realizing the outcome, Fiona sighed. She made eye contact with Philippa who nodded back. It seemed Alistair comprehended their decision without words. He looked away.
Strong entropic magic brought a chill to Fiona's spine as Philippa employed her mana, crossing the Veil and pulling from the Fade. The sorceress's eyes closed for a small second, she inhaled and channeled the spell to Ben. The man screamed in his cage, but they could not hear him over the sound of Hawke's prison. Seconds ticked, any color left in Ben's cheeks drained as the man deteriorated to lifelessness. He fell to the ground; Hawke's spell lifted at the same time. Silence replaced the loud magic; Fiona's ears rang.
With a large exhale, Hawke muttered, "Well, that was... informative."
Fiona did not have the will to agree aloud. "We should burn the body."
Alistair pushed between the mages and walked toward Ben. "I know I'm not going back to bed after all that." He pointed to their tents. "We can build a pyre from the campfire."
The group agreed and packed their camp without speaking. After clearing more land for a larger fire, they created a trench around the area, a safety measure so the fire did not spread. In silence, Hawke and Alistair carried Ben's body over the fire and stepped away. The four circled the trench, and Fiona powered the campfire flames engulfing the body, reaching upward, roaring. Philippa closed her eyes, whispering a few words for her fallen brethren. The rest did the same, paying their respects, unable to hear each other. It was as ceremonious as they could manage under the circumstances.
Dawn broke, a cloudy sunrise muffling any scenic views. The makeshift pyre blazed, but the group did not linger. Bags loaded onto their horses, they rode out, an early start on their second day toward Vigil's Keep.
The ride went quicker, or at least it seemed that way without Philippa and Hawke bickering at each other. It gave Fiona more room to think. In periods between galloping, when the horses needed breaks, Philippa and Hawke engaged in sporadic bursts of conversation, sharing theories about Ben and the Wardens. Less often, Fiona added her experience to the mage's dialogue. They utilized the time to discuss potential solutions to the Warden illness, with the new information the encounter with Ben provided.
Alistair stayed reticent, contributing his observations to the group when appropriate with a touch of dry humor in every statement. But when he was on his own, his expression remained the same as the day prior.
They stopped for lunch halfway through the day. A craggy hill provided places to sit as they ate rations in peace. Finishing her meal, Fiona noticed Alistair sitting alone, staring into the distance toward Denerim. Are his eyes misting? Just as the thought occurred, he noticed her watching. Alistair sniffed; pulling his emotions back in and went to give an apple to his horse. Whatever thoughts had haunted Alistair the day before still occupied his mind, Fiona determined.
After their lunch break, the group continued for another interval of galloping. Clouds remained, hovering, heavy and damp, brushing pink noses and cheeks of the travelers. Despite the cold, the well-trained and reliable steeds gave little pushback when given adequate downtime and food.
At their next session of trotting, Fiona found Alistair riding beside her; she took a deep breath.
"It's brave of you to help the Wardens, your Majesty."
Alistair blinked, and raised both eyebrows as if he was surprised someone had spoken directly to him. His horse kept trotting, oblivious to the conversation Fiona had initiated. Alistair glanced to Fiona at his side. "Is it? I was a Warden, right? Some of this is my responsibility."
Is this my responsibility, too? She had not considered the question.
"If you see it that way." She shrugged. "But I imagine it was difficult to leave your wife."
A sarcastic chuckle escaped him and he gave a weak grin. His cheeks turned a light shade of pink, contrasting the dark furs lining his collar. "It was an easier decision than it should have been." He took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. "At least I thought it was... But now I'm here and she's there, and…" His voice trailed off, and he shook his head. "Anyway, now I don't know what I'm doing, to be quite honest." He patted his horse's neck.
"We can go back." She spoke low enough so that Philippa and Hawke did not overhear and voice disapproval.
Alistair's shoulders shirked up by his ears; the youthful look was not particularly king-like. Fiona tamed her amusement.
"She can't go in my place. One of us needs to be here." He met her eyes again. "I want to help."
With a moment of thought, she took another deep breath and asked, "Can I speak freely?"
Unable to hide a sheepish cringe, he replied, "Go easy on me."
"You've spent a long time away from the Wardens compared to your wife, and you have a chance to help now when she can't."
It was a partial truth, and Fiona felt selfish for saying it. A fellow former Warden cured of the taint; that was why they needed him, but she had not disclosed her history to the group. Even more selfish, and even harder to admit, she appreciated having a chance to talk with Alistair. The circumstances would not have been available if he had stayed in Denerim.
Alistair pursed his lips and leaned his head from side to side as he thought. "But she's having my baby. I'm going to be a father." He snorted at himself. "I should have found a way to stay."
So much like Maric. She let Alistair's words resonate, showing respect for his dilemma before she replied, "You can't be in two places at the same time. The timing is not ideal." In a less permanent way, Alistair's situation with Caoilainn was too familiar to hers with Maric.
Alistair's forehead furrowed. "Does that exist? Ideal timing?" His gaze returned to the path ahead. "Because I can't seem to find it."
"Neither have I." She laughed.
The conversation lulled. Fiona reflected on the painfully imperfect timing of many events of her life. She had come to terms with most of it, unwilling to live as a victim to conditions of her past and out of her control.
"Is anything else bothering you about this mission?" She broke the hush.
Alistair's wry chuckle echoed. "Oh, you mean besides leaving behind my pregnant wife? Well, hm..." He tapped his chin with his free hand. "I hate Nathaniel Howe, does that count?"
"Really? I hadn't noticed." She kept a straight face.
"It's complicated, you see." He sighed, using his hand to illustrate his speech. He made intermittent eye contact as he spoke. "There's bad blood, but it's with good reason. I'd probably banish him if I could get away with it. Not to mention, he's not half the Warden Commander Caoilainn or Duncan were. Oh-" Alistair stopped rambling, finally realizing that Fiona smiled at him. "You were kidding."
She gave a tiny nod. "You don't hide your dislike of him very well." Her sideways glance to Alistair found his lips tightened in a frown; his nose twitched. Fiona hummed to lighten the conversation. "It might make this mission a bit challenging."
Alistair snickered. "Considering the absence of the Warden Commander, I'd say it already has."
Hawke looked over his shoulder to the two behind him. "I hate to interrupt your engaging conversation. Are you to ready to move?"
Agreeing, Fiona and Alistair dropped their discussion and nodded to Hawke. Philippa and the Champion heeled their horses their horses to a faster gait, and Alistair and Fiona did the same for another stretch of galloping.
The pattern continued the following day, finishing the trip to Vigil's Keep. Shared shock from witnessing the progression of the Warden Madness, as Hawke had named it, on an inflicted Warden lessened; theories of solutions to the disease eventually ceased. After another long day of travel, they arrived at the gates of Vigil's Keep. Following the dirt path through the grounds, they passed soldiers' barracks and training grounds. The base had expanded significantly since the last time Alistair had visited years ago, when he was still looking for Caoilainn.
The group finally reached the main building. A few Wardens came out to greet them, taking their horses and bags. Philippa led the travel party to the main entrance, explaining her certainty Nathaniel Howe waited in the entrance. She pushed open the double doors to find a vacant foyer.
"There's a surprise." Alistair muttered, stepping into the dimly lit lobby. "No cordial greeting from the Warden Commander."
"My apologies, your Majesty." Nathaniel Howe's voice came from the top of the stairs. Dressed in a clean gambeson and slacks, his hair brushed and neatly braided, he walked down the stairway. "I had a welcome party planned, complete with a musical performance in your honor, but we weren't sure when you'd arrive so I sent them back to their rooms... I can call for them again, if you'd like."
Bastard's not so shy now that we're at the Keep. Alistair snorted and returned a strained, tight-lipped smile. "There's no need."
"Is there food left in the dining hall?" Fiona cut the tension, changing the subject to something on which they would all agree. "We have an update on the progression."
"It's about the Senior Warden, Ben." Philippa turned around to face them, unhooking her cloak and draping it over her arm. "But Maker, Nathaniel, have some manners and feed us first. I am absolutely famished."
Nathaniel stared at Philippa with an arched brow, recognizing her selective use of his first name at the most inopportune time. "Fine. I'll meet you all in the dining hall in a moment with the rest of our team."
The rest of our team? Alistair frowned, unsure what the Warden Commander referred, but the man headed back upstairs without explaining. The rest of them walked the short distance to the empty dining hall. Hot food and cold tankards waited, Nathaniel Howe had taken some steps in preparation for their arrival, apparently, ordering the kitchens to stay open later.
They sat at the same table in the mess hall, Philippa and Hawke across from Alistair and Fiona. Lower ranked Wardens served them food immediately. The hot meal, flavored meat and potatoes, made for a welcome change to bland travel rations.
"Good, isn't it?" Hawke pointed his fork towards the rest of the group's plates. "Enjoy it. You can think about it while we're eating nothing but dried meats and foraged fruits for the next few months."
Philippa smacked the back of Hawke's head. "Would you shut up for five minutes?"
"Please," Alistair mumbled agreement with Philippa as Hawke rubbed the back of his head.
Footsteps echoed, boots hitting the stone floor as Nathaniel Howe made his way to their table. Alistair's attention turned to face him.
"Don't stop eating." Nathaniel sat at a neighboring table and spoke while the rest ate. "I've had rooms prepared for everyone tonight, and supplies readied for us to head out tomorrow. Your horses are being cared for as we speak."
"Fucking shite, Nate." A loud, accented voice called from the entrance of the hallway.
Alistair rolled his eyes. Lanky strides brought the young, red-haired elf, Nathaniel Howe's new toy , toward their tables. She stood beside him with her hip cocked and whined. "You didn't tell me this good-for-nothing whoreson was gonna be here." She gestured her hand to Garrett Hawke.
Grinning, the Champion of Kirkwall put down his fork, propped his elbows on the table, and laced his fingers under his chin. He eyed the woman for a moment before glancing to Nathaniel. "Ah! How could I possibly forget your dazzling and classy companion, Commander?" He looked back to Hale. "No need to hide your excitement."
Glaring at Hawke, Hale scowled and muttered under her breath. "Poxy… fucking… piss for brains…"
"Enough." Nathaniel shook his head, changing the subject. "You still need to tell me what happened to Ben. He's not in his bunk and no one has seen him since yesterday."
"I've seen it before, in another Warden." Hawke flashed a charming smile and winked at Hale before returning to Nathaniel. The Warden Commander cleared his throat and frowned, but the Champion did not seem to notice. "He nearly turned into a ghoul, but he was still conscious. But in Ben's case, he seemed to be following orders."
"He wouldn't tell us who." Philippa echoed him while patting her face with a dinner napkin.
"He said they didn't want the Wardens to be under a magical sleep," Fiona added. "Which gives more evidence of the involvement of something in the Fade."
After taking a sip, Hawke lowered his tankard; it clunked against the wood table. "Demons would be too simple to explain this Warden Madness. We aren't thinking big enough."
"Which is why we need to investigate the Keep," Alistair said, standing up from the table. "If you'd like to continue hashing this out again, have at it. I, for one, would like to have a decent sleep before we leave tomorrow."
The others agreed, all rising from their seats. Nathaniel Howe stood, sighing through his nose. "I suppose I will show you to your rooms."
"You can come with me, child." Philippa called to Hale. "I need your help with my books."
Scoffing, Hale gave a longing look in Nate's direction but he nudged his head for her to go with Philippa.
"You can follow me." Nathaniel gathered the guests of Vigil's Keep at one end of the dining room, leading them the opposite direction of the other two women.
Alistair stayed toward the back as Nathaniel escorted them. The Champion's small talk occupied the silence, until they came to their first stop.
A wooden door with a simple handle; Nathaniel opened it to reveal a small room with a bed and basin. "This will be yours, Fiona."
"Ladies first, I see." Hawke smiled. None answered him.
Fiona mumbled thanks, entered the bedroom, and closed the door behind her. The rest continued to the next room.
"Your majesty." Nathaniel gestured his hand toward the door without opening it.
"Thanks." Avoiding eye contact, Alistair turned the door-handle and stepped in.
Nathaniel and Hawke's steps carried them from Alistair's open doorway.
Before Alistair could close the entry, he overheard, "Do you remember the woman the Wardens were looking for in that letter I found at Weisshaupt?"
What are they talking about? Alistair held still, not wishing for creaking wood to draw their attention.
"What about it?" Nathaniel replied.
"I don't think the name is a coincidence."