xXXXx
Late into the evening, Gwen and Alistair held each other in rapt attention, as they discussed all manner of things: The Wardens, the Inquisition, and their mutual enemy, the darkspawn magister Corypheus. The Inquisitor took detailed notes as the man told his story, hoping to indeed talk to her Spymaster about seeking information on the Calling. She also made notes to speak with Grand Enchanter Fiona regarding leaving the Grey Wardens.
To say the news was troubling, was an understatement: The Grey Wardens were desperate, making one last strike at the darkspawn and any remaining Old Gods before their Order became only a memory, effectively ensuring that there would be no more Blights, ever. Their exact methods were still a mystery, but the Grey Warden mages had begun to experiment with blood magic and Alistair spoke out against it which lent him the title of traitor among his brethren.
Every few minutes Gwen would stare back at him with expectant eyes, willing him silently to continue his lecture. When he paused, or took a break she would then share some of her own relevant knowledge about what happened at the Conclave, their bizarre encounter at Redcliffe, and the attack on Haven. At those times, his eyes never left hers for long as he seemed to be absorbing every word she spoke.
Gwen had learned that Hawke had killed Corypheus years ago, when visited the Warden prison tower in the Vimmark Mountains to end recurring attacks in which his assailants wanted his blood. Alistair hypothesized that the Elder One had an ability akin to an Archdemon where he would not actually die when killed. The notion was confusing to Gwen as the Warden's explanations had holes. When she asked questions which he didn't want to answer, the man would pause and furrow his brow. After a few of such occurrences, Gwen would move on quickly, respecting his privacy. It was clear that he intended to keep as many Grey Warden secrets as he could, despite their exile of him. The man was loyal, possibly to a fault.
.
Sometime later, as they were winding down, they quieted their voices, respecting those of their comrades who'd already prepared for sleep or the night watch.
Gwen sat upon an overturned barrel and Alistair stood across from her, leaning over the table between them, with a map rolled out in front of him. He turned his attention to her, staring at her scrawling away in a little leather book.
With a gruff, tired voice, the man spoke as he pointed to the map. "You see, here's where we'll meet in the Western Approach: a Tevinter Ritual Tower."
"Yes, I see..." She trailed off as she sketched the map and meeting place.
"May I ask, what kinds of… things are you jotting down in that book?" Alistair lifted himself and attempted to peek over her scribbling hand, but she pulled the book closer to her chest. "I've been wondering about it since you pulled it out of your pack hours ago. You've scarcely put it down, even in our lulls."
"They're just notes of our conversation and observations. I tend to forget the details unless I keep a log of them. I don't know what I would do without my codex."
"Ah, I see. That's quite clever. You're very organized." He then began to awkwardly tidy up some of his own papers strewn upon the desk.
She smiled over her codex, still making notations. "I try to keep complete records for the Inquisition too. Though presently, I'm working on something that will hopefully lay things out in a more orderly presentation."
She hesitated a moment, giving him a curious look. "If you'll indulge me?"
The man met her green eyes hesitantly and gave a consenting nod.
Gwen wasted little time moving around the table. He stood taller at her approach and as she sidled up to him, she leaned in, holding open her journal and awaiting his attention.
The Warden cleared his throat and followed her finger as she pointed to her drawing.
"I've made a web of sorts that centers on Corypheus and connects him to events, people, and places. See, here where I've added the Grey Wardens… and you, and Hawke. If I can gather more information, my people can embellish it, perhaps even scrawl it out onto a larger piece of parchment. I hope it will be a useful tool. Perhaps we'll make connections that we wouldn't have made without a visualization of the whole picture and at the very least, it keeps me organized."
Alistair turned his head and caught her eyes mere inches away from his own. He cleared his throat. "Extraordinary."
Gwen felt a swell of pride at his concise comment, the comment of Alistair, hero of the Fifth Blight, and a rush of heat reach her face as she looked away and back down to the journal. "I don't know about extraordinary. It's just the way I see things."
"Don't deflect my praise. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it." His brow furrowed, his words crisp.
In a modest whisper, she responded. "Thank you."
Gazing around the room, Gwen realized that they were the only ones awake in the cavern. "We should probably retire soon."
"Yes. I'll need as much rest as I can tonight if I'm to be on my way to the Western Approach in a day's time. I'd appreciate the Inquisition's help on this." His eyes focused again on her, awaiting a solid response.
She tightened a bit and said pragmatically, "We'll help you after the business in Crestwood is finished and once I've had a chance to talk with the rest of my people at our headquarters."
"Of course." Alistair nodded and frowned slightly, catching her sudden, concerned expression. "Sorry. We've just been here for two damn weeks. The waiting… it makes me irksome."
"I understand more than you know, but don't let it. The Inquisition is here to help." She smiled up to him, hoping to illicit a response, but his face stayed stoic.
Without another word, he turned to retrieve his bedroll and she hers when simultaneously they realized that there was little space left to spread their two beds in the small cave. They readied their bedrolls and each lay down, settling as much as they could into the hard ground of the cave.
Gwen peered over to Cassandra who was lying on her back with the book 'Swords and Shields' splayed across her chest; she was fast asleep. Solas was next to Cassandra on his side facing away. Gwen knew he wasn't asleep yet as she could see the tense muscles of his back move while he tried to get comfortable. He was most likely listening to every word of their conversation and would ask her about key pieces when they were alone. Hawke and Varric were outside and their muffled laughs and conversation could be heard in the cave. They had first and second watch and she was sure they'd spend it together, catching up.
She finally laid down after stowing her pack under her pillow. Gwen dared to face Alistair as they lay side by side, less than three feet apart. His eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep yet either. She studied his face again. He hadn't lost that slight frown from their last words and it bothered her.
Just as she set her mind to calm itself, Alistair opened his honey-brown eyes and met hers instantly. His brow was furrowed as he stared at her. They kept the gaze for longer than Gwen felt comfortable with until finally she broke it by turning on her back, closing her own eyes and willing herself to sleep.
.
"Your turn." Gwen was awakened suddenly by the Seeker gently shaking her shoulder. She rose and quickly dressed in her dry armor, before grabbing her pack and following Cassandra to the mouth of the cave. It was sometime after midnight, by the orientation of the half-moon and the chill in the air. She shivered and pulled her jacket tighter around her body.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she looked around to the left of the entrance to see there were two squat logs sitting on end next to one another. On the opposite side, there was a large wooden crate of discarded items: weapons and such, most likely from the smugglers that once occupied the cave. She laid the contents of her pack on one of the stumps.
"How long have I been asleep?" She barely managed the words through a yawn.
"Not too long. Varric and Hawke took their watches together and Solas and I have each had ours. You and Alistair will take the remaining hours until daylight. Wake him if you need a rest."
Gwen rubbed her hands over her face. "Any activity?"
"None on my watch. Varric and Hawke said that they could see some wolves roaming the hills in that direction." She pointed southward. "But they never came close enough to catch their scent."
"Not the tainted wolves, I hope." She scrunched her face in disgust. "Disgusting creatures."
"Indeed." Cassandra covered a yawn with a gloved hand.
Gwen fumbled with her pack, producing a small beeswax candle. "Since there is so little activity, and I need to write some reports, I'm going to light this." She lifted a questioning brow to the Seeker.
Cassandra's eyes admonished her. "As long as you keep an eye on your horizon."
The mage nodded in understanding and produced a small flame from her hand, touching it to the blackened wick until the flame passed and held, flickering wildly in the wind.
"I'm going to get some rest. Call out if you see anything."
Gwen nodded, warming her hand over the flame before reaching in her pack for her writing supplies.
As the Inquisitor, Gwen never had to take the night watch at Skyhold and her companions usually gave her the easiest shift in their travels, but she knew of the reputation of having to endure the overnight watch. Fortunately, she never felt the dread of sitting in the near dark, watching the landscape for trouble. Perhaps it was her time at the circle that afforded her the calm of sitting in the dark: awake and content. After lights out, it was common for her to lay in her bed, listening to the sounds of the tower or recite her lessons in her mind. She found it comforting to be alone and often used the time to organize herself and write letters to friends or reports to her advisors by thin candlelight. Her peripheral vision was sharp and any movement would pull her out of her absorption and into the present moment.
That night she determined she would write a personal letter to Leliana again and send each of her advisors the news of Crestwood. Gwen collected her items from the stump and sat organizing the papers into piles for each one.
She wrote to Josephine about making trade routes more accessible and more desirable to travel as well as news of the Mayor and how he seemed untrustworthy. Perhaps she could root out some information on the man through her ties with nobles in the area.
Gwen's letter to Cullen contained detailed maps of the area where they encountered resistance, mainly undead and demons, along with descriptions of attacks and weaknesses she found. He would, as he always had done, assess the danger and in the coming weeks, send the appropriate number of soldiers to aid them in keeping the locals from danger.
To Leliana, she would send maps too, but these were marked with secret caves or blinds that she'd found in the area. The Spymaster's agents could use these locations to sneak effectively through Crestwood. Gwen sent her all the information on new recruits as well. Leliana had a knack for placing people where they could do the best. If Gwen found any juicy secrets she would also relay them, in code, to her master-spy.
They all would receive copies of the notes she took while talking with Alistair and Hawke. Josephine would have a someone transcribe them for the Inquisition's records.
With work tidied up, she started to pen her friend a casual letter to accompany the large envelope of Inquisition papers.
…
9 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon
Crestwood
Lel,
We made it to the smuggler's cave.
Everything has been decent here. I've nearly forgotten about the rain while inside the dry, warm cave. Alas, now I'm on watch and the wind blows the rain into me every now and again, so please excuse the smudges.
I hope you enjoy the bundle that's coming along with this. I think we'll be making great strides toward determining the enemies plans soon enough. Corypheus' interest in the Wardens is suspicious, as is their newfound interest in using blood magic. But that's business, and this is a personal letter. Believe me, you'll have enough to read when you get the reports.
I must say, what an interesting man Alistair is. He's given us loads of information that he personally researched. I've compiled most of my knowledge with his this very night. We're working very well together, so far.
I'm surprised by him and expected someone different, probably the consequence of your lavish tales of adventure and folly. I almost wonder if I even should have asked you for such details regarding the man. I fear they color my opinion of him and I'll need to amend my premature impressions.
You warned me that he would have undoubtedly changed and I see that you were right. He seems bitter at times and more solemn than I expected him to be. Of course, I've only known him for half a day, maybe less, so I can't be sure of anything except my first perception.
Regarding my notes again, you'll find a copy of an information map in this pack. With the Warden's help, we've pieced together everything we know about Corypheus between us. I'm sure you have people who can elabor-
…
"Good Morning." A groggy voice interrupted her focus. The voice belonged to the man she was currently writing about in her letter to Leliana.
She spoke, startled. "Oh! Good… morning to you too.
He sighed and sat down next to her. She quickly covered her letter with a blank sheet of parchment lest he see his name scrawled across the paper. A swift whirlwind blew into the cave entrance, blowing out the candle and leaving the pair in a cloak of darkness.
"Sorry about the candle."
"It was bound to happen with all this wind." Gwen released her breath and relaxed. "Why aren't you asleep? I have the watch."
"I haven't slept a full night since I started hearing the Calling, and when I do sleep my dreams are… terrible."
"I'm so sorry about your… affliction."
Though still visibly tired, he gave her a small smile and said, "Don't worry yourself over it. Hopefully once this business with the Wardens is over, I'll be back to being plain old Alistair."
"Forgive me, but you'll never just be 'plain old Alistair'. You're still a hero from the Fifth Blight, you know." Gwen looked at him in earnest, as he grimaced at the hero part.
Embarrassed, she stared out across the darkened hills of Crestwood. The rain was still falling, but there was a faint light of dawn in the air. Gwen took a deep breath and then looked back at the Warden.
"During the Blight, I can remember times in the Circle when we were so sure that the darkspawn horde would make it north to Ostwick, I was just a young girl then and the stories terrified me. Because of your dedication to the cause, we didn't have to find out firsthand what that attack would look like."
Gwen looked down at her hands as she clutched them together tightly. "Earlier when I asked if you were that Alistair, I meant no insult. I should have held my tongue, I suppose. It's just that being in the presence of one of those responsible for saving Ferelden- all Thedas really- well, it's an honor. You and the band you traveled with are heroes to me as much as the Hero of Ferelden herself."
Half way through her rambling, his eyebrows lifted and he simply stared at her. He waited for her to finish, then spoke gently, "Thank you for that. I sometimes forget that so many people were affected by the Blight."
"You're welcome." She replied softly.
Alistair turned his body out to the hills, settled his back against the outer cave wall, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He lifted his left leg at the knee and brought it across his other leg, then sighed shakily.
"Are you alright?" Gwen asked, timidly.
"My mind is just elsewhere. I needn't bother you with my personal problems."
"Alistair, I know we just met, but we're allies now, so if there is something I can do to help you to ease your mind, don't hesitate to ask."
"I suppose we are allies now." He looked over at her with a surprised smile on his face. He chuckled lowly, "Forgive me, I've been with the Grey Wardens so long that I'm not particularly easy to get along with."
"No, not anymore I suppose." She laughed, her mind wandered to thoughts of Leliana's tales.
"Hmm-what?" He looked at her through narrowed eyes. "Not anymore?
"Forgive me. I misspoke." She averted her eyes to hide her self-chiding.
"You know something more of me?' Alistair lost his scowl and a small smile started to grow in its place. 'Tell me."
Gwen's face turned ten different shades of red, thankfully the dark shielded most of her humiliation from Alistair's view. "Maker, I should have kept my mouth shut."
"No, please go on." Alistair intoned, a hint of teasing in the words.
Gwen scoffed defensively as her eyes darted back to his. "You can't be surprised, really. What kind of a leader would I be to my people if I walked into a dark cave to meet a stranger without learning everything I possibly could about him first?"
Alistair cleared his throat. "You know... everything?"
"Well, maybe not everything, but your dossier was informative… and other things I learned from Leliana. She told me stories about your travels before I left for the Crestwood expedition. She painted you as such a jovial youth… I see now that you have changed. Matured."
"Leliana? The Orlesian bard? The lay sister of the Chantry?" His voice lifted in confusion. "She's hitched her wagon to your horse as well then?"
Gwen raised her voice, offended for Leliana's sake. "Try Leliana, my Spymaster and the Left Hand of the Divine, for Maker's sake."
He sat up and a puzzled look overtook his features, his hardened composure slipped for a moment. "Wait, wait. Leliana is Sister Nightingale? I've never would have thought… Wow."
"She's quite good at it."
"I've no doubt. Good to know she's still telling her tales too." He said the words with a hint of sadness.
Feeling a bit bolder at the revelation of her secret, she continued, "The stories, they were quite good you know. I wondered though: were they all true?"
The man laughed lightly. "That depends on which ones she told you."
"I don't know if I feel courageous enough to repeat anything." Gwen stifled a laugh. "Some weren't very flattering."
Alistair sighed loudly in jest. "Ah, then yes, they were absolutely true."
Gwen chuckled softly. "I expect that with all that dashing around Ferelden, and being heroes, you'd drum up all sorts of hilarious stories."
"Heroes." Alistair let out a deep breath, revealing more of himself to her. "You'd never know this, but at the time we were terrified. A group of kids with no experience, who built an army, and defeated the Archdemon. Who would have ever thought that could happen? That we would actually do it and win."
"I'm only 24 years myself, and I seem to be in a similar predicament."
"Only 24?" He turned to her, eyeing her up and down as well as he could in the low light. "I thought… well, you seem to have the wisdom of an older woman."
"Perhaps I knew I had to rise to the challenge, as you knew you had to. You did quite well, I might add."
He waved a hand in dismissal at her. "I was never one for leadership. I followed Surana around like a lost puppy for the first few months. It was only later when we had to make the truly difficult decisions, that I realized how much I'd grown up in such a short time."
The Inquisitor beamed at him, repeating the words he spoke earlier to her. "Don't deflect my praise. I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't mean it."
He lifted his head up and looked over at her, studying her expression. With a nod of his head and the turn of a grin he said, "Touché."
For the next few minutes, they sat with eyes locked in silence until Gwen broke away to check the perimeter with keen eyes. Alistair followed her lead, scanning the horizon as well.
Once satisfied by the state of the hills beyond, the Inquisitor looked over to the Warden next to her. Since the candle hand blown out by the wind, her eyes had adjusted well to the dark and she saw that his face was illuminated by the dim moonlight, his profile austere. Reflected in his eyes, she caught a glimpse of pain.
"You're clearly unwell, perhaps you should rest inside. I can handle the watch alone." She whispered to him.
He turned as she spoke, smiling at her tenderness. Hesitantly, he began to open up to her. "No, I'd rather stay. See, I've come to hate silence and stillness. I can manage to think and talk when I have to and it helps to fill my mind with- things, but in the quiet of the night, it creeps back in."
Gwen reached out and placed her hand atop his, which rested on his leg. Speaking in a low voice, she vowed. "I promise you. We will find a way to break you free from it."
"You don't understand." He sneered slightly and she pulled her hand away. "It's impossible."
"I love impossible causes." Gwen's eyes filled with genuine pride.
"How can you be so optimistic?" His eyes narrowed at her and his brow did the same furrow that it had done while she was staring at him in their bedrolls. Gwen then realized something about his scowl: he wasn't angry, he was studying her.
"I learned a long time ago that a life brimming with ill thoughts only stood to make that life worse. I had to change, or despair." She looked out to the landscape, her thoughts disappearing into the past.
Minutes went by in silence before the Warden broke it. "So, may I ask what you're writing?"
Drawing her focus to the conversation again, Gwen lifted the parchment. "This? It's just… umm, a personal letter. I already finished my reports to the Inquisition. I had some time left over so I thought I'd send a letter to someone dear to me."
He started to pry. "Who's the lucky man, then?"
"Oh, well, she's a woman, but-"
He snorted. "Well, that figures."
Gwen squinted for a second, then her eyes widened in understanding. She made a few awkward quick movements with her hands while trying to verbalize her explanation. "No, no. It's not romantic! I mean, I like men- I mean, not multiple men- I mean, not in the plural sense- Maker's breath."
Alistair seemed somewhat amused by the show. "I didn't mean to pry. Just making conversation, I promise."
After a moment of painful silence, a smile spread across his face. "Your advisors would be happy you're making such strides with the Grey Warden liaison."
Gwen exhaled calmly, then glanced at him with an amused and curious eye. "Was that a joke?"
He clutched his chest in mock pain. "Oo, ouch, I really must be out of practice because well, I thought it was. Hmm, I'll stick to more typical first conversation topics then." He jibed, laboring to keep a serious face. "How is the weather in the Frostbacks this time of year?"
She laughed lightly, returning her attention to the parchment in her lap. "You only caught me off guard. I'm not used to sitting and idly chatting with… well, anyone but Leliana." As she spoke she returned the piece of parchment to her pack and popped the cork back into her inkwell. The candle wax had cooled enough that she could stow that away too.
The Grey Warden sat in silence watching her movements.
She turned to him, finally offering an answer to his question. "The letter was to Leliana. We have become friends in these months since I fell out of that rift at the Conclave."
Alistair shuffled his feet where he sat, his leather boots scraping the dirt. "So, it's all true then? The explosion… your mark?"
When he replied, he turned to her, but she did not look back at him. Her eyes were focused on the fog that had creeped up from the lake nearby. She perched herself on the stump, intently gazing at the horizon.
He continued, looking down to his hands which were tapping on his thigh. "I understand if it's too personal to speak of…"
"Alistair…" Her voice faltering as his name came out.
He made an annoyed grunt. "You're not even looking at me. Are you paying attention-"
"Alistair!" She hissed.
"What?!" He shot back, staring at her.
Gwen pointed to the landscape, where several gaunt figures emerged from the thick wall in a slow shuffle. "We're about to be attacked!"
"Oh. Shit." He stood and drew his sword from his belt.
"It looks like six undead, shambling towards us, about ten yards away. They must have heard us from the road, or saw my damned candle." She stood, readying her magic, and with a dejected sigh she spoke, "I wasn't paying attention."
Alistair looked at her briefly with surprise from the surge of magical energy that she emitted. He then knelt to grab a rugged shield from the box of weapons on the other side of the cave.
"We should call the others. I don't have my staff out here-"
"You have your hands, right?" He stood, a feral grin forming on his face.
Gwen opened her mouth to respond.
Alistair cut her off, whispering hoarsely. "There's no time to get reinforcements; if we call out they'll hasten and if we retreat into the cave they'll be on us before we come back out."
"You have a lot of experience fighting these things?"
He puffed out a cold laugh, gripping his sword tighter. "You could say that. Redcliffe, ten years ago: The castle and town were overrun with them. Use fire if you can."
"Okay, we can do this." Gwen instinctively assured herself aloud, though her mind was left to think about the Warden's raw reaction to the impending fight, his excitement stirred her insides.
"Ready?" The Warden waited for her jittery nod, then tucked her behind himself, and lurched forward into the falling rain and at the group of walking corpses.