xXXXx
The sound of light feet clapping against the wet stone echoed out across the silent keep. They came a halt with a slide as their owner cursed, turned around the bend, and kept running along the upper battlements to her destination.
Finally reaching the highest tower, Gwen panted and looked down into her blood covered hands at the message she had scrawled out on a small piece of parchment.
…
[ICCLLFH TOFP CLCQOSC. WODH QKLFTVOCH LDNQECLOHLFIOI CC ENEF. KTMD GCQOD. DB]
...decoded…
[STORMED CAER BRONACH. NEED IMMEDIATE REINFORCEMENTS TO HOLD. MAKE HASTE. GT]
…
She rolled the coded message tightly and placed it into one of the waxed-linen sleeves that Leliana had given her in case of emergency. From the highest point at the keep she whistled out a four note tune.
She waited and again whistled, becoming impatient.
Pacing in the light rain, her thoughts moved to her companions: some were in desperate need of healing and they all needed to rest after their six-man siege on the fortress of Caer Bronach. It was the only option in order to gain access to the dam controls and she repeated the mantra in her mind to reassure herself that the injuries were worth the price.
The place was overrun by bandits, but with a little subterfuge and a lot of courage, the team dispatched the bandits and their over-large leader as the sun set in the bleak sky of Crestwood.
The rains continued, but the group found temporary shelter inside one of the halls of the keep. Once the fighting had ceased and the healing had begun, the Inquisitor set out to find a high tower in order to contact her Spymaster. Ultimately she knew that in order to keep this location, they'd need more people.
In a fluttering of wings and caws, one of Leliana's red-crested blackbirds landed on the stone wall. Gwen beckoned the bird over and it complied, sticking out its leg purposefully.
"Clever little guy." She huffed out a short laugh and tied the message to its leg. She gave his back a light pat and he was off, flying swiftly in the direction of Skyhold.
.
"It's sent then?" Cassandra looked up at the opened door from where she knelt, holding a cloth to Varric's head where he was hit with an errant blade during the fight. They were both dirty, wet, and blood-smeared.
"Yes. It's done." Gwen replied, closing the large wooden door behind her. "Did you secure the outer doors?"
"Yes." Cassandra replied curtly.
"And Hawke?"
"After Solas healed the gashes on his leg and arm, he found a runner in the stables. I saw him gallop away up the north road as fast as he could." Cassandra stated, stoically. "I made sure he had your letter tucked away before he set off."
"And what of Alistair?" She allowed her voice to be hopeful.
"Solas is still with him. You should go to him as soon as you are able. His injuries have yet to be healed." The Seeker met Gwen's eyes and they reflected a hint of sadness. "We owe him our lives."
Gwen nodded, forcing the lump in her throat. "We'll need to drain the lake as soon as we're able to."
"Tomorrow then?"
"If we're able, yes. We all need rest now." The Inquisitor sighed and spoke quietly. "Thank you. What would I do without you, Cassandra?"
Varric took a swig from a flask that he held in his hand. "What would you do without her? I'd probably be dead without her…" He slurred slightly.
The Seeker smiled up at Gwen and turned toward her patient again, pulling the cloth away from Varric's head to examine the damage. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the cut was deep, but not puncturing his skull, thankfully.
The mage came to his other side and took the cloth from Cassandra. "I'll heal this up. You should attend to yourself, or help Solas with Alistair. I'll be there as soon as this oaf is on his feet." She nudged him gently and grabbed his stubbled chin, turning his head to look at the wound herself.
Cassandra nodded and walked away through another nearby door.
"Hey! I resent that… oh-" The dwarf attempted a retort, but was thwarted by the itching, tingling sensation felt on his head.
Gwen summoned her magic and the healing tendrils of white and blue crept out of her fingertips and got to work on the damage, slowly this time. The scraped bone filled in and the muscles worked their way closed around the skull. Lastly the new skin grew across the three-inch gash that decorated his forehead. Varric groaned deeply at the sensation and gripped her knee as she worked. At last she was pleased with her work and placed a chaste kiss on his head where the wound had been. She sat before him with a sad expression on her face.
"Varric, I'm sorry. I know you were against this from the start."
"Don't worry about it. It all worked out, right? Here, help me up." He leaned onto her shoulder and she rose with him.
"You know, you really shouldn't be drinking right now." She scolded him, taking his flask and putting the cork back in. "Also, you need to eat some meat and try to stay awake for a few hours. Head wounds can be trying on the mind."
"Alright, Doc. I'll just go and keep your Lover Boy company while he's passed out. Should be some thrilling hiccup conversation."
"Lover Boy?" Gwen gasped quietly. "What do you mean by that?"
"Don't try to fool me, you like him. I didn't think you had a romantic bone in your body, Trev." He slurred. "Curly's been at you for weeks. We thought you played for the other team, actually. Boy, if Blackwall knew you had a thing for Wardens... Oooo-ee!"
"Stop. Just STOP!" Gwen said through her teeth, while pulling Varric to the wall and looming over him menacingly. "How in Thedas...?!"
Varric's voice sang out. "What kind of a rogue would I be if I let a perfectly unguarded bag of 'correspondences' go without rifling through it for a bit." His grin was as wide as she had ever seen it.
He continued. "You just left it sitting there under the table… and it was taunting me. Don't worry though, I sealed all the letters back up. No one will ever notice that these prying eyes were upon them."
Gwen let him go and together they stood in the narrow corridor outside of the room where their other companions rested. She covered her face with her hands and began a smoldering rebuke. "I can't believe you would do such a thing! This is… the worst… invasion of privacy—Maker, I can't even scold you properly, I'm so embarrassed!"
The dwarf leaned his head against the wall. "Look. I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not. Caring for someone makes you human, and honestly, some of us thought you left that part of you in the fade before you stumbled out at the Temple."
"I care about each and every one of you!" She paced about the hallway. "How could you even say that?"
Varric sighed audibly. "Caring about someone is more than knowing who would be the 'best' for the job. See, I know I'm the best lock-pick and well, I have Bianca… aaaaand that's why I'm always with you."
Gwen looked over to him pitifully.
"Oh, don't look at me like that." He turned his back with a slight stagger. "You've never let any of us in, except for Nightingale, and we both know you started going to see her: because you felt guilty about that freaky future Redcliffe."
"This is too much right now." She slid down the wall, her head falling into her hands as she sat with her knees propped up. "There are reasons why I'm so guarded. Legitimate reasons!"
In a moment of compassion and pity, Varric knelt next to her. "You can talk to people about it. I'm a great listener, though I can't promise anything you tell me won't end up in writing at some point."
They both chuckled.
His rough, wide hand came to lay on her shoulder and he shook her gently. "Don't forget why we started on this topic." She lifted her head to him and he winked. "You're starting to open up. First Leliana, now the Warden? By the end of the week you and I, we'll be best friends."
The dwarf rose and offered his hand to his leader, and she took it, standing across from him in the corridor.
A weak smile made its way to Gwen's face. "I guess I can't be too cross with you for finding out about my fascination with the Warden... And that's truly all it is, Varric. You would've found out somehow sooner or later. You're just too damn perceptive."
"True. But you do realize what you've done, right?" He poked her arm at each syllable.
"What have I done?" She looked at him confused, batting his hand away.
Returning fully to his jovial self, Varric trilled out. "You've given me gold, Trev! I can just picture it now: 'A wistful beauty marked by fate is doomed to roam Thedas closing rifts and righting wrongs until she meets a handsome Grey Warden who's heard his Calling.' It's just so tragically romantic. I can't make this stuff up!"
"You've made me feel so much better about it all, Varric. Thank you." She said sarcastically and turned away from him towards the door.
"Aw, don't be all doom and gloom on me now, sweetheart." Varric grabbed her hand as she took a step.
His visage changed. "Wait… Everything I said before about you not caring about us... well, it never meant shit to me."
Gwen pulled her head back suddenly and furrowed her brow at him in confusion.
"Just. Let me explain: I didn't mind that you were cold and determined because I knew you had the balls to get the job done when it came down to it."
"Thank you...?" She shook her head, her tone curling up as she spoke the words.
"I know that if anyone can solve this Grey Warden shit, hell, if anyone can beat Corypheus, it's you."
"You really believe that?" Her eyes dropped to the stone floor and a rush of pride washed over her.
"I do, with all my heart." Varric wasn't laughing, joking, or even smiling. His truth touched Gwen.
She smiled, whispering. "Your words, everything you've said, it means a lot to me."
She reached out to grab his hand and gave him a hard squeeze. "But if you mention this new information you've acquired regarding the Grey Warden to anyone else, I'll be forced to reopen that wound I just closed up."
Varric only laughed. "You're such a charmer." She squeezed harder and he yelped. "And of course I wouldn't dream of revealing your secret!"
Gwen gave him her best dashing smile and strode away to open the door and join the rest of the group.
.
The Inquisitor walked into the room with a tipsy Varric at her heels and immediately found Solas surrounded by a glowing sea-green light that danced over Alistair's prone form. Cassandra had a pot of boiling water on the stove. She had removed her own armor and wore a loose, clean cotton shirt that hung down to her bare thighs. She tended a ragged gash on her left outer thigh and looked up as the door opened.
The room that they occupied was fairly deep in the fortress. They chose it because it was the only place they could find with a table large enough on which to place the Warden. Alistair was a big man and they all helped carry him to the nearest room for immediate healing.
The space must have functioned as a kitchen: there were barrels and boxes of foodstuffs lining the walls and a stove near a small window, next to the stove pipe which directed the smoke outside.
The Inquisitor went to Solas' side and Varric found a sack of flour to rest against on the floor. His eyes were fixed on Cassandra's bronze legs as she wound a bandage around her muscular thigh.
Solas' eyes were fatigued and Gwen felt that his mana stores were almost depleted.
She looked down at Alistair. His sandy hair was dull, his face was still splattered with blood from the fighting, and his armor was fully removed, save his trousers. Careful not to disturb the healer, she examined him: the worst wound was under his ribcage and curved around his right side, deep purplish-red and blotchy. His shield arm was bruised, but his other arm looked unscathed, and on his neck, were remnants of dried blood, which had crusted onto a braided gold chain. Gently, she lifted the chain and noticed an amulet hung from it. Unclasping it from his neck, she tucked it into her pocket.
Gwen glided silently over to the stove and filled a bowl with water from the boiling pot. She took a clean cloth from a stack next to Cassandra and dipped it into the hot water. Bringing Alistair's amulet out from her pocket, she began to wipe away the blood until the chain was shining again. Rolling the small medallion in her hand, she held it up to her face, noticing a small green stone inlaid on a disk of gold, etched with a pattern of vines. Upon closer examination, she realized that the gold bail was soldered with silver at some point in its life, as was the bezel which held the gem flush to the pendant. It had been repaired in the past, and not by a metalsmith. With a final buffing of the amulet, she lifted the chain over her head and tucked it into her undershirt for safe keeping.
With a tired sigh, she carried both bowl and cloth over to where Solas stood, wringing the water out and cooling the cloth slightly before placing the bowl on the table and standing at Alistair's head. Touching the cloth to her lips to make sure it wasn't scalding, she began wiping the blood from the Warden's face. He didn't stir, he barely looked like he was breathing and she took another glance at his broken body as she he remembered how it happened with a fearful shiver.
…
They had fought a good fight up until the end. Injuries were minor and their demeanor was bright. Gwen was right when she hypothesized that they would work well together. Alistair took the lead, calling out commands from the front and she kept a calm head, responding to his direction with information from her vantage point behind the group.
The advantages of having another experienced warrior and archer were great: Cassandra and Alistair created a double shield wall at the forefront, opening it to slash at their enemies. Solas' barrier protected their flank and rear, leaving Gwen able to concentrate on offensive spells. The archers rained arrows down from their height on the battlements and they all came together at the last set of stairs leading them to the final level. They rested and each drank a potion, rejuvenating them for the final onslaught.
When they reached the top of the stairs, they were greeted by a warrior with a giant maul and at least six other heavily armed bandits. The gigantic man's size was twice that of Alistair, but the confident Grey Warden dove right in, his attacks slowly breaking down the large man's defenses. With great agility he dodged the giant's attacks, spinning him around to confuse him and simultaneously open his defense up for magical assaults and arrows. Cassandra and Solas focused on the other bandits, the elf freezing them before the Seeker broke off frozen limbs. Gwen threw up barriers for Alistair and the rogues, her fire doing less damage as the rain fell harder, extinguishing the flames. In the back of her mind she chided herself for not learning a new trade from the trainers that Leliana brought to Skyhold. Her staff was her only weapon and she spilled her magic into it, powering the focusing crystal at the top and directing the frosty bolts toward her foes.
Reinforcements kept coming in from somewhere, no one could pinpoint an exact place so they kept at their dance, though nearing exhaustion.
Finally, the group dispatched the bandits and started focusing on the large warrior, until the giant-of-a-man was nearly defeated, kneeling on one leg. Alistair dropped his shield to perform a two-handed killing blow, but then something happened.
It was revealed, a moment too late, that the warrior was a berserker and he raged, grabbed his maul and lifted it up one last time, slamming it with all his might into Alistair's midsection. His body was thrown a few feet and he lay crumpled and still.
Gwen screamed and made to run for him, but Hawke jumped from his perch and caught her, holding her back. The scream provided a necessary distraction as the huge warrior turned toward the rogue and mage. They both froze in place and watched as Cassandra came from behind and jumped onto the man's back, thrusting her sword deep down into the crevice between the shoulder and neck. She was rewarded with a spray of blood as she pulled it back out and the giant fell to his knees and forward.
Hawke finally let Gwen go as she rushed to the Warden's side and began touching his chest. "No, no no no. No blood!... no blood means no external wound!" She cried, frantically. Solas was behind her and he lay a stiff hand on her shoulder.
"Inquisitor. I need to work quickly." He said to her as she sat dumbfounded. She had not yet learned how to heal internal wounds and was useless.
…
Solas allowed his magic to recede and he breathed deeply, taking a seat at a large wooden chair next to the table. With Alistair's face clean, Gwen dropped the cloth back in the bowl and looked at Solas with an apologetic expression.
"Is there anything I can do?"
"Yes. I believe so." His voice lacked the crispness that he usually spoke with. "He'll survive, but his organs are still surrounded in blood and I cannot locate the cause at this juncture. I must rest."
"You've done so much for him. I only wish I'd been more eager to learn about internal injuries before this." She spoke with disdain for her lack of knowledge.
"I cannot teach you in mere minutes how to heal them but, if you'll allow me to use your mana. I will be able to proceed with his healing."
Her face blanched. "I've never done it before, but if it will help him, I'll do it."
Solas nodded and stood again. "Come here." He pulled her to stand in front of him. His voice was husky and low. He stood close to Gwen and she could feel his form close behind her.
"Ready your magic." He whispered in her ear.
No sooner had she done so, than he began a slow mana drain on her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently. Her knees buckled. Gwen let herself fall into him slightly. The sensation was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, it was as if someone was pulling out her breath as she exhaled.
"Keep breathing deeply. I'm going to pull harder. This may start to feel unpleasant at which point I want you to tell me to stop, immediately."
"Alright."
She began a deeper, more calming breath until the pull hit her and she stuttered. Refocusing her breath, she allowed him to pull at her even more deeply until the pain came and she cried out in a weak whisper, "Please, stop."
He did and she fell back against him. He lowered her into the wooden chair and she blinked slowly, her head resting on the chair arm. The last thing she saw before drifting off to sleep were whorls of green light dancing across the table.