xXXXx
With the waxed-canvas bag of messages for Skyhold slung over her shoulder, the Inquisitor and her newest Grey Warden companion set out for the nearest camp to the south. The sky was a stormy dark grey and the clouds obscured the warmth of the sun. Rain fell in large, sparse drops on their cloaked heads. Their journey would take a few hours, at the most, and then they would meet the rest of their party near the homestead on the hill.
They both equipped their weapons not wanting to be caught without them in the event of another attack. Setting a leisurely pace, the pair conversed lightly finding that they had more in common than they thought. More walls were coming down between them.
.
"Oh my goodness, I know! South Reachers know their aged cheddar, at least 5 years is my favorite, with those delicious salt crystals embedded in it." Gwen drooled. "Is it lunch yet?" They both laughed.
"Yes, but have you ever tried any of the brie from Monforte? I make sure the kitchen keeps it in constant supply at home. I get cravings in the middle of the night sometimes… with crusty baguettes and fig jam." They both laughed again at his admission.
"Oo, hold on. I see a huge patch of elfroot there, under that tree. And I think I have some jerky in my pack if you're hungry."
"I am a little hungry, thank you." He responded as he removed his gloves, tucking them into the belt of his tassets.
She placed her pack on a large boulder and he began searching through it for the food.
A few paces away she called out to him, "Stop me if I'm being too intrusive, but I've heard that Wardens eat wagon-loads of food each day. Is it true?"
"That is a little stretch, but not by much. We do consume more than non-warden folk. I don't know about wagon-loads though. I admit that over the years my appetite has grown and sometimes I just shovel the food in as fast as I can chew."
"Really? You must've been exercising great control at breakfast then." She smiled at him as she filled a small fabric bag with the herbs.
"Well, I try to keep myself from looking the part of the savage when in the company of people other than Wardens." Alistair grinned.
Gwen paused to look up at him; he was devouring the jerky. They had not been on the road an hour yet and he had eaten a substantial amount of food at breakfast. He should not have been hungry. Gwen shook her head, chuckling lightly.
Finished with her gathering, she moved over to the boulder on which he sat and placed herself next to him. Removing her own gloves, she grabbed a piece of jerky and began to chew it. After she was finished she took a sip from her water skin.
Alistair sat next to her, a somber expression growing on his face. "Look, about this morning, when I attacked you… I'm sorry. When I'm in a deeper sleep, the dreams become more intense, almost lifelike in their terror. Once I get used to having companions, I can control it better, I think. Hawke used to wake me with a long stick when we started our journey. "
"He's a darling man, isn't he?" Gwen asked sarcastically.
Alistair raised his eyebrows, chuckling. "He's not that bad once you get used to him."
"Don't worry about the attack; I said it was fine and I meant it. You didn't harm me. I was foolish to have disregarded Hawke's warning." Gwen shrugged it off.
Alistair still looked concerned, but answered. "Alright."
She took another small bite. "I noticed you managed to sleep late this morning as compared to the first night."
"I did, curiously." His voice dropped low. He edged himself closer to her on the boulder. "I thought to mention this earlier, and even now I can't be sure, but I feel as if I'm sleeping more deeply since... your arrival."
Gwen flushed. "Perhaps your mind is at ease now that you have allies to aid in your quest."
"Perhaps." He nodded and took another bite of food.
They sat quietly for a few moments, eating in a companionable silence, and enjoying the cool, calm morning.
"Does... it bother you?" Alistair gently touched the back of Gwen's left hand.
She turned her hand over as he did, but it was still closed into a loose fist. "Sometimes. It's such a strange thing."
"I've been curious about this since the stories about your survival started circulating. I didn't get a chance to ask the first night." He met her eye and held his hand out to her. "May I?"
She shivered at the thought, but nodded. Deep inside her chest, her heart began beating rapidly. He gently brushed her fingers away from the palm. The Warden's own long fingers moved behind her hand, supporting it. His hand was large and calloused on his palm, and it felt quite warm while it cradled hers. His thumb caressed the mark, which now from being exposed, was sparking lightly. Without intending to, Gwen gave a hoarse whimper. Alistair's eyes shot up to hers, intense.
"Did that hurt?" He whispered to her.
Composing herself, she stared down at her hand and the spark. "Not right now, no. There are times when it pains me, but I can always manage it. When I close a rift, it pulls at me, all the way up my arm, like there's a string attached inside my shoulder. I keep it covered most of the time, otherwise it does this."
Alistair returned his hypnotized gaze to the mark. "It's fascinating…"
"Wait until I get close to a fade rift; fascination can turn to terror as I crackle and glow." She gave him a wry smile, but he was still studying her hand.
"You could have asked to see it at any time, you know. It's usually the first thing I'm asked when I meet someone new." Gwen's words drew him back from his trance and he blinked at her, letting go of her hand.
"That would be like asking to see an ill-placed tattoo. Seems personal."
"And what makes today different?" She questioned.
"Oh, ah… Today feels more like a lazy walk in the woods with a friend than real work."
"A friend, you say?" She questioned.
He shrugged. "Yes?"
The curve of Gwen's mouth turned upward and she spoke quietly. "I quite like the sound of that."
Alistair's eyebrows raised and he said drolly, "Well, how can we not be friends, what with our equal love of fine cheeses."
They both laughed.
Gwen held out the small bag filled with dried meat. "More jerky?"
He grabbed a large piece and tore at it ferociously, even childishly. Gwen turned her head away and laughed.
"What?" He acted offended as he devoured the rest of the piece he was given.
"You're ravenous! We just ate breakfast not too long ago."
"It's a Warden thing, what can I say?" He stood, reaching out his hand to help her rise. "Shall we keep moving?"
"Yes."
Upon standing, Gwen pulled her gloves on and stowed the meat in her backpack again. Tying it tightly, she pulled it onto her back along with the bag of letters. Alistair made eye contact with her as she was adjusting her wool cloak to cover her head. His expression bore intrigue and his defenses were lowered, thus allowing Gwen the opportunity to learn more about her Warden friend.
"So, I've heard about other Grey Warden appetites..."
At that, the warden coughed and cleared his throat. "Oh. What… ah… exactly have you heard?"
"Understand that I mean no harm nor disrespect to the order, it's just a curiosity."
"Of course." He mumbled.
Gwen continued, unfazed by his awkwardness. "In the Circle I spent a lot of time reading and studying. That earned me a pass to a particular section of unorthodox books. There were all sorts of things, all very interesting. I'm not even sure I should be telling you this. I know how secretive the Grey Wardens can be."
"Go on." His facade changed to a curious one at her confession.
"I found a detailed journal from one of the mage wardens from ages ago, and he wrote about his um, inordinate amount of stamina on the battlefield and… in the bedroom… it was quite detailed. Sustaining his passion for hours-"
Alistair's face reddened and he hastily cut her off, breathless, "Maker's breath, stop! I think this might cross the line of casual conversation."
Gwen belted out a laugh. "Oh dear, I'm sorry. The look on your face was precious!"
He scoffed at her. "You were teasing me?"
She thought for a moment before responding. "Yes."
"I try to be a gentleman, you know, and regardless of the jest, I don't feel that this is an appropriate topic for a lady such as yourself."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "While I'm grateful for the chivalry, you needn't bother: I'm just another companion, Alistair. I truly am curious if what I've read was true, though. You're the first Grey Warden I've met who will actually speak about the order."
"Well, that's because we've been sworn not to discuss anything. If people knew the kinds of things we have to endure, they'd probably never volunteer to join us."
Gwen nodded in disappointment, but understood.
Alistair smiled slightly, "I do plan to keep most of our secrets hidden, but however close-lipped I'd like to be, I'm going to have to tell you more about them before we encounter Commander Clarel. Plus, it seems you already have some knowledge from reading those journals."
"What does that mean exactly? That we may have this conversation another time?" She teased him again.
He mused and responded quietly, adjusting his own cloak, "Perhaps… Let's just keep going."
.
Refreshed from their brief break, Alistair and Gwen continued on. The pair crested one of the small hills to the south, still talking pleasantly. They walked up a shallow incline and the mage took to the ridgeline to look out over the dreary landscape. Behind her, she heard the Warden speak up and turned to listen.
"What's it like, ruling the Inquisition."
"Well, it isn't ruling; I have a body of advisors who give me the counsel I need to make decisions in military, espionage, and diplomacy. In honesty, they do all the hard work, I just have the final say. They do have a throne for me to sit on."
Alistair lifted a curious brow. "A throne?"
"Occasionally we have public judgement of those who have done atrocious things. I try to be merciful, for the most part."
"You hold court?"
"I sit there during the trials. It's not the same as what a King or Queen would do... I think? I don't know much about royalty to be honest."
She continued. "And it isn't truly a throne. It's a chair with the Inquisition crest on it and it's dreadfully uncomfortable." She strolled further along the ridge. "Does this interest you?"
He answered with genuine intrigue, following behind Gwen and looking up to the grey sky. "I'd be lying if I said no… there's something appealing about governing an entire keep."
"I suppose it satisfies the want for power, but I've never really desired that." Gwen said indifferently.
His eyes shot to hers and he seemed almost embarrassed. "I think that one could do a lot of good as a ruler, contrary to the need for power."
"How noble of you." She smiled at him. "If you're truly that curious, I can find some books in the library at Skyhold."
Quietly he responded. "I'd like that."
The Inquisitor slung her shoulder pack to her front, searching inside for her notebook. "I'll write it down, so I don't for-"
Alistair shushed her and held his bare hand up for her to cease talking. "It's too quiet." He whispered. "Wait here."
He walked out in front of her, listening intently, as his hand moved to the hilt of his weapon. When a sizable distance separated them, they heard the first growl. Their heads turned to one another in shock, when they realized they had encountered a pack of rabid wolves.
"Damn beasts! Where are they?" She yelled, readying her magic and pulling her staff from her back.
Just then, one of the feral things jumped over the hill and attacked Alistair from behind. He barely drew his sword when it sunk its teeth into his wrist where only the padded gambeson protected his arm. Leaping to close the gap between them, Gwen sent the animal flying back with a repulsive blast and came to the Warden's side. She erected a magical barrier around them as Alistair reached on his back where his shield was stowed. The mage helped him pull the buckler onto his left arm as the wolves appeared around them.
"Maker, you're hurt." She could see the torn fabric and flesh, and a red stain growing, sending rivulets of blood down his hand.
"I'm okay." He replied with a cringe.
She attempted to reach for his arm, but he pulled it away. "You're not okay."
"I'll survive. Remember: Grey Warden stamina." He winked at her and shield bashed one of the incoming wolves square in the jaw. There was a bone crunching sound as he did so. A moment later, it staggered, disoriented from the head blow and Alistair's sword found its place deep in the animal's chest.
They mimicked the battle stance from their first fight together, though now Gwen was able to defend herself with her staff in hand. Still, she stayed behind him facing outward as they were being circled by five dark-furred wolves.
"I hate fighting wolves." Gwen said through heavy breaths.
"Just stay at my back and start throwing those fireballs. They'll try to draw us apart."
"You're injured, doubly; I have a better idea." He glanced in her direction as she conjured up a great wall of flame behind them. The wolves there ran around to the other side of the pair unable to penetrate the wall without bursting into flames.
She stood beside him, gloating, "Now we only have one front to defend."
He nodded in approval and lurched out to the nearest wolf, shield bashing and running it through the same way he'd done the other.
Gwen threw a fireball at one of the wolves to their left whose fur was already singed from the flame-wall. It panicked, rolling around on the ground. Alistair jumped over to it, putting it out of its misery with his sword yet again. Gwen noticed he was favoring his previously injured shield arm now due to the new injury on his wrist, only using his sword for killing blows. She could work with that.
That's how they continued: incapacitate and stab. Once refocused, they dispatched the pack with relative ease. Alistair ran the last one through the chest and turned to find Gwen crouching, to examine the dark fur on one of the carcasses.
"I'm skinning these. This fur is incredibly soft! Traveling with two mages, myself included in that, we rarely have a chance to skin any animals we kill; fire, ice, or electricity just make the furs unusable for obvious reasons. Like those two there." She pointed to two smoking masses of fur and scorched flesh.
"I can understand that and I'll help you. But first, do you know any healing spells?" He grimaced through a laugh, falling into a seated position on the grassy hill.
Gwen's hands went to cover her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I was thinking about a nice fur-lined cloak for walks on the battlements in the chilly mountains of Skyhold." She crouched over him to examine the wound while waxing poetic. His steel blue gambeson was now soaked through at the site of the bite. "You should have been wearing your gloves. I'm sorry I distracted you with jerky."
He smiled up at her. "We just need more practice fighting together, before I know what you're capable of. Though, I now know where to put you should we encounter any more feral wildlife or walking corpses."
After removing her gloves, she returned to his wound, her mouth curving into a smile. Sitting beside him on the wet, grassy ground, she peeled the padded shirt up to his scale mail and tucked it under at the elbow. Keeping him distracted from the wound, she asked flirtatiously, "And where would you put me, Alistair?"
Distraction achieved, he blinked slowly, taken aback by her question. "Tactically speaking, I'd put you behind me, facing out; you do well back there." He stifled a grunt of pain as she worked to remove the fabric of his undershirt.
"I don't mind being at your back" Gwen hummed in response, working quickly and carefully. From her pack she found a fresh bandage to clean the wound. The wolf grabbed and tore away, as evidenced by the flesh hanging in tatters.
"Some mages need to be protected at all times, therefore in front of the guardian, but I've seen that you can handle yourself without my over-watching... eye." He bit his lip when she dabbed the blood away, the dryness of the cloth pulling at the torn flesh slightly.
The mage scowled. "I'm sorry. I just need to see what I'm working with before I heal you and I have to clear some of the blood away."
He reached beside him to dig in his pack and brought out a large flask, passing it to her. "Flush the wound then, with this."
"Oh dear. It's going to hurt a lot worse for a few-" She stuttered, closing her hand around the bottle.
"Gwen." The Warden gripped her forearm with his good hand, and said, "This isn't the first time I've had alcohol poured on a wound and it won't be the last."
"Right." She popped the cork with her teeth, spitting it to the ground.
"Here goes then." She poured; he winced, and she got a good view of the wound. Placing the bottle securely between her knees, she reached for her mana.
A soft, white-blue glow came from her fingertips as she touched the sensitive flesh. It knitted itself together before both of their eyes. Crossing a thumb over the new skin, Gwen smiled and replaced the cork in his bottle before rising.
"Thanks." He examined her handiwork: there was a slight white line scarring the ragged edge where the bite had been and the skin tingled warmly. "How many Schools of Magic do you practice from? I've seen you use fire with proficiency and you just performed a decent heal on me."
Gwen had already begun removing the skin of one of the wolves, when she lifted her head in response, her mind forming a theory. "You're familiar with the Schools of Magic?"
She paused then without waiting for his reply and tried verbally to figure out the puzzle as she skinned away. "Only Mages, Seekers, or Templars are so knowledgeable and you're clearly not a Mage… but I neither sense nor smell any lyrium on you… so, what are you? Former Templar? But there's still that residual odor… Possibly a Seeker, but you're not nearly serious enough to be one."
Alistair waited for her to finish her rant, looking amused, still seated on the ground. He then rose to help her with the wolves and rolled his sleeves up as high as he could. "I was a Templar."
Her face scrunched up in contemplation of what he'd said. "Why don't you carry the scent of lyrium?"
"I actually never took my vows as a Templar, so no lyrium. I was conscripted before I had the chance, much to the dismay of the Chantry."
Alistair paused for a moment and asked timidly. "Your files on me didn't mention my past- I mean, my training?"
She turned to him, pausing to look him in the eyes. "No, they began at the battle of Ostagar and ended after your first meeting with Hawke during the uprising in Kirkwall."
"I see." He continued skinning and directed the conversation back to her.
"I wondered about your fighting skills yesterday morning against the corpses. You still have a little Templar fight in you." She smiled and looked over at him, finishing the first wolf and starting on the next.
"You never answered my question about your magic, by the way."
"Well, I was an Enchanter at the Ostwick Circle who specialized in elemental magic. I'm better at offensive spells and so I have enchantments that boost their power. I do, however see the practicality of knowing a few defensive spells and heals. Solas has been instructing me in the more intricate healing arts. As of now, I can heal wounds, but only those I can see."
"Quite practical, indeed." He gestured to his own wrist.
Gwen smiled with pride at his comment. "Yes, combat healing has served me well. Edmund and I-" She heard herself speaking before the realization hit her mid-sentence. Clearing her throat, she continued. "Edmund was a Templar who fought with me during the rebellion of our Circle and on our journey to the Conclave."
Though he continued to skin, Alistair looked up to her when she mentioned the Templar. Attentive, he nodded to her to go on. Her heartbeat sped up again as she realized she was opening up to the Warden. Since she felt a new, comfortable camaraderie with him, she kept talking.
"It was the first time I'd been exposed to any true fighting in all my years at the Circle. Before then, it was sparring and training dummies or supervised classroom casting. In the months of traveling to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, I became adept at fighting beside Templars and the other mages. That's why I keep Solas and Cassandra with me at all times. Cassandra, she fights very similar to a Templar, and Solas, he and I balance one another out with offensive and defensive spells. It is a comfortable group and we're very good at what we do."
She looked up and added, "When we put you and Hawke into the mix, like I said: we'll be quite a striking force."
"And what about the dwarf?"
"Well... I suspect he's writing a story about me, I need to keep him along for the sake of the literature he will produce." Gwen laughed at her joke.
"You aren't serious…" Alistair gazed over at her and she laughed loudly.
Gwen shrugged dramatically. "He is writing all the time, but I don't know for sure if it's about me. The truth is he's incredible with that crossbow, and he's an excellent lock pick."
They skinned in silence for a few minutes until Alistair decided to speak. "I don't want to pry, but Edmund, he was at the Conclave with you, so..." He hesitated.
Gwen looked up and into Alistair's waiting eyes, and answered quietly, "He perished along with the rest."
"I'm sorry." He said with genuine sorrow.
"I am too; He was a good man." She sighed and continued cutting away the pelt. "Forgive my apparent coldness, but it all happened so fast. Before I could even register it, I was thrust into the position I now hold."
The woman stood still, closing her eyes for a moment as she spoke with forced confidence. "That part of my life is over. I've tried not to dwell on the past. I'm with the Inquisition now."
"Were he to have survived, he would have never allowed me to be part of something like this. As good as he was, he was still a Templar and believed in their dominion over mages. So, I suppose it was meant to be. I am happy..."
Sensing the end to her story, Alistair reflected back to his past. "We keep talking and I keep thinking how similar you and I are."
Gwen gave him that same expectant look from their first talks in the cave. It silently begged him to continue.
"I was to be a Templar, and then the Wardens conscripted me. Just like your Edmund, the Revered Mother never would have allowed me to become a Grey Warden, but I'm with the Wardens now. No other place I'd rather be, truthfully."
Gwen grinned, "Were you, ah, intimate with the Revered Mother?"
"What?! Maker, no! I said our stories were similar, not exact." Alistair rolled his eyes at her bad joke.
"Sorry." She laughed at him, then did a little prying of her own. "So, is there someone special in your life?"
"No, there is not." His response came quietly from his lips.
Gwen stopped cutting. Her hands were covered in blood and she was holding her dagger out when she said, "No fellow Wardens? Lucky Weisshaupt servants? Local women in the Anderfels?"
"Not a one," he responded, his tone flat.
"How can that be true?" Gwen said, almost under her breath.
Alistair looked up from skinning and sighed, exasperated. "Firstly, there aren't an overabundance of women in the Grey Wardens, and the ones I've come across are mostly interested in more mature men... or women. And well, we haven't spent enough time together for me to go into why I would never dally with a servant girl."
"Hmm, and local folk?"
"I can't believe I'm even telling you this." He gave her a flustered look. "Yes, there have been a few, local women excited to learn I'm a Grey Warden, but the relationships were short lived. It was hard to relate to them. Their interests and concerns in life were too normal. I always seemed to push them away, my own concerns being far from what they ever could imagine. Aaand then there's the whole secret life of the Grey Wardens thing. Women hate secrets."
The Inquisitor looked at him with a sad expression on her face. "I understand, I think."
Gwen took a deep breath, prying further. "Have you never been… in love, then?"
Alistair stopped skinning and sat back in the grass for a moment. His forearms relaxed against his shins and he looked up at Gwen who was eager to hear his response.
"You're so," he paused raising an eyebrow, "inquisitive."
"Fitting, isn't it?" A wide grin formed on her face.
She finished the last cut and lifted the pelt onto a pile with the first. Turning around, she looked to Alistair. His countenance was pensive, and his copper eyes smiled at her though his mouth kept its thin line: He was carefully considering his next words.
Gwen dropped to the ground beside him to rest for a moment and pivoted her body so that she could see his kind eyes again.
Alistair let out a deep breath and threw his hands indifferently into the air. "Alright. I suppose I'll tell you."
The Inquisitor tried to follow his eyes, but he glanced away.
"There was one woman. Ages ago." He looked into her eyes before sighing again and quietly finishing. "She was the Hero of Ferelden, Mihna Surana."
"Oh. Oh." With a knowing glance her tone grew low and her faced dropped its smile. "I'm sorry."
He started again, with fervor. "Don't be. We were in this impossible situation, both of us so young. There was a lot of tension and emotion, and well, I… fell in love with her. She was so capable and strong, and I admired that. Admiration turned to affection and then to love, I suppose." He turned his head away from Gwen.
She just stared at him, not knowing what else to say.
"I thought that she might even return my affection at one point, but ultimately she chose Leliana. So I stopped trying and focused on our duty. Near the end of the Blight, she made some rash decisions and started spiraling down a dark path. We stayed friends the first few years and then drifted apart. She is still in my thoughts from time to time."
The pair sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute, then the Warden lifted himself up and went back to work on the wolf pelt, finishing it in forceful, broad strokes at the back of the animal.
"Thank you for telling me." Gwen finally got the words out.
"You know," he stood to lay the third pelt out on the pile, "I feel a weight has lifted after telling someone after all these years. It's always in the back of my mind and I haven't talked about it in so long. Why exactly did you want to know all of that?"
She responded shyly, "I'm just curious about you, that's all- I mean, your dossier was incomplete with information about your character..."
"I see." He seemed amused.
Slightly embarrassed, she responded. "Yes, well… I like to be thorough."
With a thoughtful smile, he paused to take a few deep breaths, then changed the subject abruptly. "Are we keeping any of this meat?"
"No, we'd never be able to carry it. Besides, I dislike wolf meat: too stringy. We will most likely have something to eat when we get to the camp."
"Good." The Warden called to her with a grin. "I'm starving."
"Wagon-loads of food doesn't seem like much of an exaggeration anymore."
"Hey, it's been almost an hour since I had anything to eat!"
.
Without having to remove the innards of the wolves or worry about the meat, the last few skins were taken quickly. The two skinned away in a friendly silence, contemplating their conversation since they'd left the cave. Much had been said and Gwen wished her hands weren't covered in blood so that she could write some thoughts in her journal. With a last consideration, they piled the bodies up and Gwen lit them on fire. They were nearly done when the rain started up again, allowing them to rinse their hands before replacing their gloves.
After pulling their cloaks over their backs and heads, they found a dry empty sack in their belongings. In went the pelts and they continued on their way. Within a half hour they were at the camp.