A/N: I'm going to do a few chapters here and there with fragments from Alistair's perspective. This is the first of them and his PoV is about ¾ of the way through this chapter under the heading: oOOOo.
We get to see Gwen's first person perspective through her journal, and I like to think that Alistair talks to himself, so italics mean thoughts.
xXXXx
By midday, Gwen's muscles were starting to ache from overuse. She had busied herself with anything and everything to stanch the anticipation she felt deep in the pit of her stomach. Of course, the moment she chose to finally sit and rest her body was when she heard the first cry of one of the soldiers on watch. They had caught sight of the drove, marching down from the north road with wagons and horses, a large horned Qunari leading their way.
A wash of relief came over her and she went to her quarters to don her clean armor, dressing quickly in her sage-green light leather jacket that matched her eyes. She walked from her room still tightening her belt around her slender waist, making sure her spell book and lyrium potions were secure before picking up her pace to a jog.
In the inner ward, she found Cassandra adjusting her greaves with her foot up on a bench.
Revealing the excitement in her voice she called out, "Ready?"
"As always, Inquisitor." The Seeker spoke with a similar tone, though attempted to control her elation.
Shoulder to shoulder the two women walked briskly to the gates and helped two soldiers to lift the heavy wooden beam from the enormous iron brackets. Leaning it against the wall, they stood behind the gates and each took a deep breath. Placing their hands on the circular door-pulls, they heaved until it creaked loudly and it heeded their command to open.
All fourteen of the occupants had gathered for the arrival, but Gwen was the first to walk out into the open air. She cast an eye up the road and caught sight of Iron Bull giving her a friendly wave. She waved back reaching high so that he could see her.
As they grew closer she saw that not only had Bull come, but Dorian, Blackwall, and Sera. The Inquisitor sighed audibly and gave a second wave to the rest of her inner circle before heading back inside with the others.
.
Caer Bronach was soon bustling with soldiers. The efficient crew unpacked supplies and began to settle in for the rest of the day. Amid the noise of the full keep, Gwen beckoned the commanding officer to her side.
"Charter." Gwen grabbed her forearm in the typical embrace of soldiers.
The sober red-headed elf nodded back to her superior, "Inquisitor."
"Congratulations on the promotion." She smiled. "Leliana has the utmost respect for you. I know she's chosen well. Now, onto business?" Gwen gestured up the stairs which led to the inner ward and her small office.
"Of course, but before we go…" She trailed off and opened her jacket to retrieve a pack of letters from a concealed pocket. "I was to give these directly to you as soon as we arrived."
Charter placed the letters in Gwen's hands and she brought them close to her chest in a caring embrace. "You have no idea what this means to me. Thank you, Charter." The elf's freckled face lit up slightly at the change in the Inquisitor's disposition.
Gwen clapped a light hand on her back and they began to ascend the stairs. "Now, to work?"
.
"Boss. Good to see you." Iron Bull ducked under the door frame and into the Inquisitor's office. She rose from her chair and met him halfway across the room.
Reaching out to shake his hand, she responded. "Likewise, Bull. I was under the impression that your group was still in the Hinterlands on a personal quest for Blackwall."
"We, uh, finished early. And to be honest, it wasn't my kind of thing. We just picked up some Grey Warden shit and left. No fighting, nothing difficult."
Gwen tilted her head. "Hm. Well, at least you weren't here with us. We were stalled here for three days. Very unproductive."
He shook his head at her and winked. "I would've found something to do."
Gwen squeezed her eyes shut and walked toward the door. "I don't want to think about the trouble you would have caused had you been with us, Bull. Not in the least."
He laughed heartily and the Inquisitor watched as he hit his horn on the wall and cursed. "Let's meet under the canopies in the inner ward instead of in here."
"More room?" Bull cowered slightly in the small space.
She laughed. "Yes, and I told Cassandra to gather everyone in the main ward."
Gwen hesitated a moment, her mind drumming up a last-minute solution to one of their problems. "Let's walk slowly. I have a favor to ask of you before we start."
.
Bull brightened up after the Inquisitor had made her request and the pair of them walked silently out into the courtyard together. Making a head motion toward Dorian, Bull left her side and she stood alone before her people, watching them interact with one another.
Hawke and Sera had their bows in hand, speaking in low voices with grins on their faces. Dorian and Solas seemed to be in the midst of a heated debate before Bull sidled up to soften his lover's agitated visage. Varric stood against a wall, making eye contact with her, and nodding before doing his own assessment of the courtyard and its folk. Alistair had cornered Blackwall and was furrowing his brow in thought as the two shared words. Cassandra saw Gwen immediately as she walked through the doorway and was upon her before the Inquisitor could make a full appraisal of the ward.
"Would you mind getting their attention for me?" Gwen smiled slyly at her.
Two fingers went into Cassandra's mouth and a clear, loud whistle broke free, bringing the occupants of the ward to their attention.
"Thank you, and stay beside me, if you will." The Inquisitor whispered.
The warrior spoke quietly and nodded. "Of course."
"Thank you all for joining me." Gwen started. "I daresay, you could not have come at a better time. Our small band was enough to hold this place, but barely. We toiled every day to have the fortress reach the state it is now: clean and safe. Your arrival means that my band will be able to close the rift in the lake, once and for all, making Crestwood safer for the locals and for the merchants that we hope will advance the trade in the area."
Motioning to her crew, she stated. "Today, my strike team and I will eradicate the threat lingering in the caves beneath the old village."
"And on the morrow, Iron Bull, with his crew and a band of soldiers, will be heading south to a particular set of ruins where a High Dragon makes her home."
Dorian gasped. Bull grinned wide and put his hand to the back of the man's neck and gave a gentle shake. Sera's face blanched, shoulders dropped, and she abruptly slumped down on a barrel behind her as a colorful string of obscenities drifted out of her mouth.
"Once we're done here, we'll waste no time in preparing for our journey back to Skyhold. So, the eight noble soldiers who helped us out will be your guides. Look to them when you have questions about the keep or surrounding area."
Gwen looked at the red-haired elf. "Anything else to add, Charter?"
In a loud, clear voice that the Inquisitor did not expect, the elf responded, "Only to say thank you, Inquisitor, and Maker's speed."
Gwen nodded to her, then to her waiting companions, as the sun dipped into the western sky. "Time is of the essence."
.
A chill crept over her skin and Gwen shivered under her wool cloak. She sat on a boulder watching the dark caves for stray demons or undead as her companions slept restlessly behind her. The caves were still draining water from the lake, despite being empty for three days, and as they climbed ever downward into the heart of the cave system, it seeped up her boots and leggings. Her limbs were near numb as she fidgeted atop the large rock.
Hours ago, they'd found an alcove that was dryer than the main tunnels and made camp for the night. Gwen cast a jealous glance behind her at her crew, lying on the cave floor, nestled warmly under their blankets. Torchlight around them cast a soft glow onto their prone forms.
With a light hop, the Inquisitor stood up and began walking around the area to attempt to warm herself. The place was vast and quiet, save for dripping water. In the air, there was a damp unpleasant scent, like a mold-filled cellar mixed with the foul stench of decay, be it the lake fish or the remnants of the dead, stranded there so long ago.
Topside, they'd cleared the old town of demons, spirits, and walking corpses, but none of them had realized that the caves were haunted as well. It was nearly a constant fight since leaving Caer Bronach and though she had wanted to continue and seal the rift before nightfall, everyone was too exhausted and soaked through to move along.
In addition to aggressive spirits, there were benevolent ones as well, but their appearance was just as jarring. Red apparitions floated in her vision even now, their light moaning sending shivers of a different kind down her spine.
A short time passed and the cold subsided with her movement around the cavern. Still tired, Gwen found the large boulder again, taking her place on top of it, resuming the watch.
Green eyes blinked slowly and her head began to droop forward, until she felt the tug to stay awake. Jerking her head upright again, she shook it wildly to stave off the sleep. Her back was turned to the cavern leading to the surface, but when she heard a splashing sound from down the path, she rounded abruptly, readying her magic.
Remaining frozen in place, she waited for whoever, or whatever, was coming to step into the open hollow. Wavering firelight broke into the mouth of the corridor, followed by a tall, hooded and heavily armed figure with a torch. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief and slid down to the ground slowly, making her way to cautiously greet the newcomer.
The figure walked a few paces into the room and peered into the nearby hole leading downward. There was something about the way he moved that seemed familiar and Gwen paused briefly, the man rounding on her as she shuffled, his face obscured.
"Quite a long drop down." The cave echoed his low, melodious croon and Gwen's feet stuttered to an abrupt stop, her hands coming to cover her mouth in shock.
"No… No, it— you can't be here." She shook her head back and forth, taking a few tentative steps toward the man. He removed his hood to reveal his face and Gwen met his familiar pale blue eyes.
"Gwendolyn? Maker's breath, I've finally found you." He threw down the torch and strode over to her with a long gait, pulling her against him in a tender embrace.
She let out a muffled cry as she pressed her hands firmly against the familiar crest adorning his Templar breastplate. Even in the dim light, he looked exactly as he did the day of the Conclave: his dark locks partly pulled back in a clean braid and grey at his temples, the rest of his hair just touching his shoulders and a light stubble on his chin from their recent travel.
Lifting her head to peer up at him, she asked, "Edmund… What are you doing here? How are you alive ?" Gwen tried to put the pieces together in her mind, but nothing made sense.
"I survived in the tunnels below the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I had minor scrapes and burns and was eventually joined by a few others. Once we were well enough to travel, I set out on my own." He gripped her shoulders. "I thought you died and so I left. If I'd know you were alive, that you survived too, I'd have looked for you right away."
"It's alright." Gwen looked down to her hands still resting comfortably on his chest, and slightly pulled away. Their embrace felt wrong and unfamiliar, and she reasoned that she'd had changed so much since last they spoke.
He held her tighter, demanding her presence. "Stay."
The Templar continued. "We'd heard news of the Rebel mages in Redcliffe and tried to help, but by the time we got there, the Inquisition had everything under control. That's when I was given a description of the Inquisitor that matched your likeness."
As he spoke, his hands came to rest on her shoulders, then slid to her neck. His thumbs caressed Gwen's cheeks in their familiar way, but his hands were ice cold and Gwen shivered violently when he touched her bare skin. "I asked around and heard you'd come to Crestwood. There's a rift down here and I figured you'd be here sooner or later, so here I am."
"This is… a shock," she smiled sadly, "I'm happy you're here, of course. I mean, in the beginning I'd hoped that I wasn't the only survivor… now though—"
He cut her off, his eyes pained. "You left me there; you didn't even try to find me." Edmund jerked her face closer to his, her lips trembling as he closed in, his breath coming out in soft, white whorls. "I loved you, and you broke my heart."
She turned away, shaking her head, as a pang of fear rose to the back of her throat. The man before her was drawing her heat away and her skin began to numb where his hands laid. Thoughts began to betray her and she wondered if the person before her was Edmund, or something else entirely.
"Edmund never said he loved me."
"I should have." His ice-blue eyes locked on hers. "My soul has been aching without you near. I want you back. Now, we can do all those things you wanted to do, Gwen: settle down, marry, start a family."
Coming to her wits, she narrowed her eyes at the man. "Edmund always said we could never marry and the risk of having children with magic was too high."
"You wound me, my lady. I'm still your Edmund, only I've had time to think about my life with you hereafter, but you—you've changed. You don't want it anymore?"
Gwen's heart ached with grief and she fumbled with her words. "Yes… Things have changed. I'm the Inquisitor now. I have a duty to the Inquisition. I can't—"
"Can't… or won't?" Edmund's eyes shut painfully and he sighed. "You should never have taken this position of power; it's changed you for the worst. As a Mage, you are bound to me. You know this to be true."
"I knew you wouldn't understand, but I don't want to argue about it now; besides, we should wake the others." She implored him and pulled away an arm's length before he clawed at her arm to bring her back.
Turning toward the camp, she squinted to see another figure in the shadows, with blonde hair and glowing blue eyes, wearing feather-mantled, Tevinter mage robes and holding onto Hawke's arms in a similarly tight grip. She couldn't make out his whispered words, but knew whatever he was saying had a listless Hawke enraptured.
"What is going on?" She tried to focus on Hawke, to make her way over, but her wet feet were frozen in their place and soon her mind came back to Edmund.
Jerking her head back to the Templar, she watched as his face began to slide down, melting away as flames engulfed his entire body. Gwen screamed out in horror and tried to jump back, but his flaming hand grabbed her tighter as he spoke through fire and burning flesh. "Wouldn't we have been happy together?"
"Let me go, please."
With a strange melancholy reverberation in his voice, he continued. "You let me die. My bones are dust, blown into the air by that massive explosion and the pieces of my flesh that remained have long since been carried away by the birds. You survived, and have forgotten about me and what we shared. Now, you seek to replace me. Will he warm your bed at night like I never could?"
Tears welled in her eyes, but did not fall. "I haven't forgotten Edmund. I regret with all my heart that he died in that place. I mourned him, I still mourn everyone that died that day!" From behind her, she heard clashing noises and vague words as well as felt the swell of Solas' magic, but she could no longer will herself to turn from the burning Templar.
"Did you ever care for Edmund?"
She sobbed her response, unable to rip herself away from the despair building within. "I did, I did, I did… I'm so sorry." Over and over, she cried her apologies to the burning man before her, her tears flowed freely down her face and neck as she dropped her knees to the ground in pain and sorrow, clutching Andraste's pendant that hung at her neck.
A new voice rang out through the hiss of the demon's snare which filled her mind; from its timbre, she recognized it as belonging to Alistair. "Release her, demon."
His presence alone was enough for her to let go of what will she had left and drop her body to the cold, damp ground; he would protect her until she regained some of her strength.
A strained wheeze tore from the burning lips and the demon's form began to change, as its rasp taunted the Warden. Alistair was roused from sleep and unarmed, but he held his shield and sword confidently.
Soon the demon's form wore a tattered, black cloak and it floated on the air a few feet from Alistair's face. "It's too late for her, boy. She'll never rebound from this kind of lover's despair. She'll die before you can sample her, I'm afraid." The demon laughed and hissed. "What you'll be missing, will be mine for eternity."
Alistair creased his brow angrily, uncertain if the demon was telling the truth or not until he saw Gwen's chest rise slightly. "I can see her breathing, you arse."
The demon released a guttural cuss. "A few more moments and my underling would have had the other one as well, had you not dispatched it. I am centuries old and far more powerful; you too shall feel the chill of despair before long."
"Silence!" Alistair jabbed and kept his warrior stance, protecting his unarmored body from the demon's sharp claws. He held his shield up and kept his sword ready to strike, as the creature circled him.
"Hmm, what do you have to offer me? What great woes have you had in your pathetic life?" A gaping mouth of enormous teeth, opened and shut awkwardly as it spoke to him, swirling around him and sniffing his aura menacingly. "Ah, the stagnant stench of unrequited love! From your regal father and the little elven wench."
"Shut. Up." Alistair lurched at the despair demon and it easily bounded away from him.
"Come now. Let's see what other morsels of sorrow do you have for me? Oh, oh— yessss !" It hissed and reached its hands out to touch the Grey Warden's head.
Alistair batted it away, turning around so that he faced the camp and was standing protectively over Gwen's body. His foot brushed against her and he felt a reassuring squeeze on his heel through his thick woolen sock.
Despair rocked in the air arching its back and bending oddly, until it created its new form: a tall man with black hair, pulled into a tail at the nape of his neck, his face was angular and a dark beard adorned his jaw.
"Alistair." It spoke warmly in a low voice and walked closer to its victim.
The Grey Warden dropped his shoulders, pointing with his sword. "You can't be serious. I just saw you change your shape into him."
The demon laughed, "And when the sorrow commands your mind, you will not remember." Behind its new shape, Alistair caught movement at the camp.
Playing along, he spoke to the fiend in an exasperated tone. "Duncan died over ten years ago. Yes, at first I was upset, but over time I came to realize that I carry his strength and purpose with me and rely on it every day. We defeated the Archdemon, Loghain got his comeuppance, and Duncan's death was not in vain. I'm plagued with no more misery about what happened the night he died."
Duncan gave Alistair a stern look, his voice low and melodic. "That isn't true, or I wouldn't be here now, Alistair." He pointed a finger at the young man, and glared with dark eyes. "You disappointed me, my brightest recruit. I trained you myself and you failed me. You couldn't do the one simple task I asked of you and you lit the signal fire too late. Loghain fled the field to save those soldiers under his command. Loghain is not the person I blame for my death. You are."
Solas stood several yards away and had finished silently setting fire wards around the demon when Alistair made eye contact and signaled him with a small nod.
He clenched his teeth, his features twisting into a furious sneer. "Enough! You don't deserve to take his shape."
Alistair rushed forward causing the demon to jump back a few feet into one of the traps. Behind him, Gwen sat up slowly, leaning on one arm, and conjured a molten fire ball, hurling it at the offensive beast. A disturbed Hawke hung back, aiming arrows much slower that he was known to do. Varric took shots after the demon's magical barrier was down and Cassandra came in to finish it with her sword, sparing Alistair the pain of having to kill a likeness of someone he lost many years ago. After the firelight faded, the companions shared uneasy glances, all around.
Varric laughed to lighten the mood, his voice still groggy from sleep. "You guys have all the fun. I wonder who it would've picked for me…"
Glancing at his fellow rogue, who stood with his back to a stalagmite with his head bowed into his hand, he reconsidered. "On second thought, I don't really want to know." He moved to stand next to the shaken Hawke and patted him on the arm carefully, leading him to his bedroll where the two exchanged quiet words.
Cassandra was kneeling at Gwen's side the instant the fighting stopped. "Inquisitor, are you alright?" The Seeker asked, her eyes full of concern.
"I'll be fine, Cassandra. Thank you." Gwen sniffled and smiled weakly at her. "You need to rest for tomorrow."
The warrior nodded and stood, walking back to the camp, passing Alistair along the way as he deposited his weapon and shield near his bedroll.
"You didn't leave her alone, did you?" The Warden rounded on Cassandra.
"She said she was fine. I don't wish to embarrass her with my coddling, Alistair."
Shaking his head, he picked up his pace and returned to the site of the attack to find Gwen struggling to her feet. He came to her side, helping her up and gasping at her when she stood close in front of him.
"Maker's breath, Gwen, your lips… they're blue." He hastily ran his hands over her face, feeling their coldness and examining her pale skin.
Gwen spoke with a nasally vibration from her fitful crying. "Oh my goodness, your hands are so warm. " She pulled his hand closer and he smiled at her enthusiasm. The moment she realized that nuzzling her face in his hands may have been considered inappropriate, she dropped them.
"Shall we… get you back to camp?" He spoke through a thin smile.
She nodded, pale pink with embarrassment. Together they walked slowly over to the alcove, behind where the rest were beginning to settle in again.
"Who's next on watch? Gwen isn't in any shape to continue. She needs rest." Alistair called out, his arm wrapped around her shoulders to help her walk.
Solas spoke up and walked to meet them. "You should allow me to check her for injuries."
"Just a wounded pride is all." Gwen responded weakly, shaking her head. "I'm truly just tired and cold. I need blankets, not healing." She turned, gazing up at Alistair, intent on taking advantage of his sudden tenderness. "But perhaps… if you would be so kind… well, you're so warm, do you think you could sit with me?"
"Of course." The Warden responded with a slow blink and a nod.
Solas regarded the pair with concerned eyes. "I'll leave you be then and take watch. Just… please inform me if you begin to feel ill." He waited for Gwen's nod, then turned and walked away toward the open cavern.
Cassandra settled into her sleep roll, pulling her blanket over her head and not wasting any time before falling asleep again.
Gwen and Alistair walked to the back wall in the alcove and he moved their bedrolls side by side. With the intention to remove her wet garments, the Inquisitor sat on a rock, her hands shaking with such a tremor that she could barely keep her bootlaces in her grip. Alistair watched her and knelt to help her with her water-logged boots and socks.
Reaching his hands out to untie her boots, he uttered, "Maker's breath, you're soaked."
Gwen's eyes forced themselves open and her head dipped down involuntarily from sleep, or the cold, or the terror of seeing her dead lover. "Hm?"
He pointed. "Your boots, socks, leathers: take your pick. Everything below your thighs is soaked through."
"Oh. Yes, yes of course." She flushed and looked away as he finished peeling her boots and socks off, laying them on a nearby rock to dry.
"Stay with me. Don't fall asleep yet." Alistair had reached up to lift her chin and met her eyes with growing concern. "You should have said something before we all fell asleep. I've seen men and women succumb to a frigid stupor in the wet and cold."
"I wasn't thinking." Flushed with another wave of embarrassment, she responded with a shake of her head and quickly lifted herself into a standing position. Spots filled her vision and her knees buckled before she felt Alistair's long, strong arms reach around her waist to steady her. Her arms slid under his arms and around his waist to steady herself. Gently, her forehead fell onto his shoulder. The padded gambeson felt warm under her cheek and she closed her eyes briefly.
"Easy there." His voice was almost a whisper, the breath teasing her ear.
This was the second time that she had been this close to him, but now, it was different. This time, her body was weary and her mind swimming in a lake of random thoughts. It felt good to be pressed against his body, his arms tight around her back, strong around her small frame. She felt comfortably safe. Gwen turned her head towards his neck and inhaled his scent. There were hints of sandalwood and orange mixed with sweat and leather and the unmistakable scent of man. His heat permeated her body and tingled her frigid skin, making her pull him closer, her fists gripping his shirt weakly.
"How can you be so warm?" She murmured into his shoulder. "Is it a Grey Warden thing too?"
"No, I've always been this way." A rumble of laughter rolled through his chest. "I sweat like a pig when the weather grows warmer."
She attempted to laugh, but instead shivered when he pulled away to adjust the blankets once more, the lack of heat sending her limbs back to the bitter cold.
Turning back to her, he questioned, "How does your head feel?" He furrowed his brow and placed a hand on her forehead, brushing a few strands of hair away.
"It's clearing, I think. I'm just cold now, really. Despair demons, they suck the warmth and joy from your body." Gwen smiled at him, looking down at both of their bare feet on the sleep roll below.
Nodding towards the blankets, a grin formed on his face, "I think we're all set. I'll cover your legs to get them warm. They'll dry in a few hours."
He lowered his eyes and pulled the extra blanket from his bed. Alistair swept the covering around her shoulders and pulled it tight, gripping the blanket together at Gwen's collarbone to keep it from falling. The warmth of the additional layer was helping to sap the cold away.
Perhaps it was the need to feel alive again after being confronted with representations of death, or perhaps it was the new tenderness that the man before her expressed, but whatever compelled her, also dulled her reservations.
Finding a new boldness within, she brought her hands to rest on his, as they still grasped at the blanket. Gwen's eyes slowly rose and a whisper escaped her lips. "Had I known that being in distress would have elicited such a response in you, I'd have feigned injury days ago."
A handsome flush graced his cheeks at her admission and he looked out to the others at the camp. Most everyone was sleeping again, and from their place in the alcove, they were all but invisible to Solas' eyes. He dropped his hands from her grip, but doing so caused the blanket to slip down her shoulders. "You—you're delirious; let's sit."
With an agile catch, Alistair pulled the covering up again and Gwen reached out to touch his unarmored chest, pulling at the torn fabric where the arrow pierced him days ago. Remembering the intense fight, she inhaled deeply.
One hand to travel up his chest, slowly up around his neck. With a hopeful stare, she touched his jaw lightly and he shivered, despite his warmth. The shiver traveled up her arm and feeling it, she paused, touching his stubbled chin for a moment more in silent deliberation. He didn't pull away and his gaze intensified. It was then that a daring glimmer filled her eyes and she brought her lips carefully up to his, placing a gentle nip there. A moment later, he cautiously moved his lips to nip back at her.
Her eyes finally closed and she brought her other hand to his cheek, as she intended to deepen the kiss by opening her mouth and pressing her soft lips more firmly upon his. He then closed his eyes and opened his mouth to receive it, lifting his hands from her shoulders to her neck and in the process dropping the blanket to the ground with a soft whoosh. Alistair's mouth was soft, and warm, and he kissed with a need that warmed Gwen to the pit of her stomach. She wanted to keep going, but one passionate kiss was all he allowed before his hands flew down to her shoulders again, and he gently pried her away from him. Confused by his hesitation, Gwen tilted her head and slowly relinquished hold of his neck.
Alistair backed a half-step away and lightly took her hands in his. He was perplexed, but there was also something sad and unreadable in his eyes. His head dropped forward, chin to his chest. When he looked up, he gazed hard into her eyes before speaking.
"We shouldn't do this." His hands held hers for a moment more before dropping them and taking another step away to turn his back on her.
Gwen lifted her hand to her forehead and responded in a level voice. "I'm not sure what came over me; I'm sorry."
He turned back around, speaking in a hoarse whisper. "You've just been through a hell of a night. You're not well..."
The Inquisitor was silent and her face flushed in the low light as she waited, unsure of what to say. Her body became chilled again by the removal of her source of warmth and she wrapped her arms around her body.
Ever the gentleman, Alistair noticed her chills and stooped to pick the blanket up, draping it over her shoulders again, making sure she had it in her grasp before he directed his attention to her state of health again. "You need to warm up and rest."
With clouded thoughts, Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat, took a seat on the bedroll, nodding to him when her mouth refused to work.
"Lie down. I'll see if I can find something warm for you to drink."
"That would be lovely, thank you."
When he walked out of sight, Gwen quietly admonished herself for her brazen action, rolling onto her side away from the cavern and covering her face with icy hands. "Maker's breath. What was I thinking kissing him like that?"
It was true that she'd thought about it, but without a sure knowledge that he felt the same way, the action could have been disastrous. "It wasn't disastrous though, in fact, he kissed me back." Idly, her chilled fingers touched her lips, still warm from the kiss.
She heard soft steps behind her and Alistair's sigh before he came around and laid down next to her on his bedroll. She watched him lie on his back, his brows creased as if he was trying to decipher a puzzle.
"Other than alcohol, I couldn't find anything. I don't think starting a fire for tea is a good idea, so I suppose I'll have to warm you up myself." Alistair turned on his side and motioned her for to come closer.
Gwen shook her head. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea, considering… what just happened."
The man smiled nervously, averting his eyes. "It won't happen again, I promise."
Gwen reached out to touch his hand and his eyes jolted to her. "It wasn't that terrible, was it?"
"It wasn't terrible at all, and that's the problem."
His fingers closed around her frigid extremities and he pulled her nearer. Willingly she moved, turning so that her back was flush against his chest. His warmth covered her back side and he pulled the blankets over them, providing a cocoon of warmth around her. Lastly, he placed his arm over her, securing her in their combined bedrolls.
Feeling his heart beating wildly behind her kindled a new heat that passed over her, resting in the pit of her stomach. Frankly speaking, she dared to ask, "Do you think there could be another time… for it?"
His expression softened behind her. "I… don't know. For now, sleep."
Moments passed with only their mingled breaths heard between them before they fell into a warm and peaceful sleep.
oOOOo
A low pinging noise pulled Alistair from his dream-state. Cold had crept in and he cursed silently, reaching around for his blanket before he realized where it was. A modicum of grief passed through him as he lifted his body up and found her, lying under their blankets next to him. She'd pulled them tightly around her, leaving him with nothing to cover himself.
Thief. He smiled sadly.
Checking his ward, he knelt over her, touching a light hand to her cheek and arm: they were back to their usual tone and warmth. Though he was careful not to wake her, she stirred a bit and he waited, kneeling cautiously, only to catch a light moan as she rolled to face the wall. His lips curled into another sad smile before he walked away to find his pack from its place on a boulder a few feet away.
What the hell am I going to do about her?
As he pulled out his water skin, his hand brushed against a leather-bound journal. He pulled it from the pack and gripped it hard. He loosened his hold and ran his fingers over the smooth leather and buried it back in his pack. Taking a large swallow of water, he allowed his mind to wander and an image of the Inquisitor flitted through his memory.
I remember, she handed me the notebook with a shy smile, "For your thoughts. Mine has served me well. I hope this one does the same for you." I took it, offering her what I hoped to be a grateful smile.
An audible sigh filled the alcove and his thoughts begged to linger painfully on the woman he'd been calling friend these last few days, the same woman he kissed just hours ago.
I must tell her before this escalates… that anything between us would be… impossible.
He desperately wanted to process what happened, and to traverse his thoughts for a reasonable and polite response to their kiss, but a few minutes after waking, it started, as it had these last few months. Low, in the back of his skull, it was like an insect buzzing, crawling its way into the rest of his mind until his head was filled with the insistent noise. There were no words or discernible tune, but it could be described as music of some sort, full of need and dread.
It hung there, calling him to move, to search, and to toil away mindlessly. It sickened him to think that his thoughts were akin to those of the rancid beasts he's sworn to protect Thedas from during the Blight. It took nearly all his will to reject it and bury it within, though he wasn't sure what would be worse: the guilt of his impending rejection of her tearing at his heart, or the disgusting pull of the Calling ripping at his mind.
Tough one. He huffed out a cold laugh.
Alistair sat on a boulder in front of the still sleeping Gwen and grabbed his hair, tugging at his scalp viciously. He hated the weakness that the Calling brought forth. In the public eye, he maintained composure, thankful for his former Templar training to withstand the near debilitating effects of the curse. He could focus enough on speaking or fighting and if he deliberately controlled his thoughts with force, he could ignore its call for a short time. However, in the moments after rising, when his mind was still adjusting to the waking life, the itch crept in and took over.
Shaking his head, he tried to push it down. He fumbled in his pack again, this time for something to eat. His Grey Warden appetite was calling to him as well, but all he could find was an apple.
He made a disgruntled noise. This will have to do until breakfast.
A low, whistled tune hit his ears before he could see the watchman, but he knew who he would find guarding their camp.
Varric. Making the noise that woke me: Bianca, of course.
Refocusing, he lifted himself and jogged lightly to the dwarf's side, finishing his apple before speaking to his ally.
"Is everything alright? I heard shots." He wiped his mouth on his glove.
"Just an undead straggler. See him pinned to the wall there?" Varric points to a twitching corpse with three cross bolts in it: one in the head, chest, and leg.
"But if you'd stay, I'd be grateful." He snickered. "For more than just the manpower. I'm bored out of my mind here."
Alistair placed a hand over his brow, his fingers massaging his temples. "I'm not sure what kind of company I'll be."
"Any company is good company, Lover Boy ." Varric wagged his eyebrows and folded his hands neatly atop his crossbow. The look Alistair shot him raised a warning that Varric read, causing him to continue onto another subject. "And I don't want to be alone out here if any more demons come around. I'm a little trigger happy as it is."
"Yes, I can see that." He chuckled and turned towards Varric.
Moments passed with silence between them. Alistair tried to think of something to talk about, something besides Gwen, but the only thing that came to mind was the demon encounter hours ago.
I probably shouldn't mention Hawke or Anders… but…
"The apparition that Hawke saw, was that… Anders?"
Damn curiosity.
Varric's expression fell and he answered succinctly, "Yes."
"I only met him twice. Once when he was traveling with the Hero of Ferelden and once in Kirkwall, right before the Chantry fell."
The dwarf's voice lowered to a whisper, "Hawke let his anger get the better of him that day. Shit, none of us predicted it or we would've done something to save the Chantry, talk Anders out of it, something!" He sighed and continued.
"They balanced one another out. It was a perfect match, or so we thought. Never thought Hawke would ever do something like… that ." Varric looked away.
Alistair cocked his head. "You're saying… they were lovers?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe that." Alistair's face contorted with bewilderment. "How could he do that to someone he... cared about?"
"You've spent time with him, right? He's a maniac at times. I love the guy, but he's crazy." Varric lowered his voice again. "That day, he was beyond furious and Anders was beside himself, asking for an end, in not so many words. We all knew he'd need to pay for his crimes at some point and Hawke... just snapped."
Varric shot Alistair his own warning glance. "Oh, and I wouldn't go asking him about it personally or you might just end up with a knife in your back too. When the Inquisitor brought it up, I thought Hawke was going to tear her limb from limb, but he just trashed his room and took it out on the poor bandits that roamed during his watch. He knew he couldn't kill the only person who can actually fix these damn fade rifts, but I'm sure he was tempted."
The Warden stared off into the darkness of the cave. "We traveled together for months. He's a decent fellow. I knew about Anders before we started together, but I guess as Grey Warden we're used to looking past people's misgivings and valuing them for their skills." Alistair moved away from the rogue a few steps to dig his toe into the ground restlessly. "You really think he would have harmed Gwen?"
"It's tough to say. Like I said: he's a maniac. Some of the shit he did when we were in Kirkwall..." Varric shook his head. "Let's just say I disagreed more than once, but he always got the job done. Can't fault his methods."
"Yes, well. Let's just talk about something else, shall we? Lest our friend wakes to find us discussing him."
Varric laughed. "Heh. Good point."
Varric tapped a rhythmic beat on Bianca for a few minutes, then looked over to where Alistair leaned against a large stalagmite, his arms crossed. "How about… her Inquisitorialness?"
Maker's breath. I should just walk away right now.
"Her what? " He huffed out a short laugh. " Can't you just call her Gwen?"
"Nope. It's just not in me to call someone by their proper name, Lover Boy. In fact, I've been holding on to your nickname for a few days now."
Alistair turned his head and furrowed his brow in confusion. "There's nothing going on between us, if that's what you're implying." He rolled his eyes and looked to the cave ceiling. "Can't just come out and ask though, can you?"
"I suppose I can be direct now that she's already opened up to you. She likes you, Lover Boy." He chuckled. "How'd the first night go?"
"I don't mean to be rude, but that is none of your business."
"And yet I haven't offended you enough to make you walk away."
"Not yet."
The rogue sighed knowingly. "So, how did she react to your rejection?"
"My what?" Alistair dropped his arms to his side and turned his body toward Varric, taking a step closer in the process, whispering. "I didn't reject her."
"Then why do you look so miffed?"
"This is my natural state." Alistair creased his eyebrows harder.
Varric laughed. "My guess? You're angry at yourself. Now, if you came out here with a swagger and a smile, I'd know you accepted that woman's affection and perhaps expressed your own. Instead, you look like shit."
The Warden smirked sarcastically. "You're quite charming."
"Only to the ladies, my friend." He laughed hard. "Everyone else gets the truth, and you should go for it with Trev."
The man shook his head. "It's not a good idea."
"Why not?"
"What she wants, I can't give."
Varric barked out a laugh. "Shit . Don't bait me, Lover Boy."
"Stop calling me that."
"Alright, Alistair. "
"Thank you."
"Hold that thought—you may rethink your thanks." Varric chuckled deviously. "Now, pray tell, why can't you give her what she needs? And you'd better tell me the truth or I'll start emasculating you in fine prose."
The Warden furrowed his brow, but continued with a resigned sigh. "Do you know anything about Grey Wardens?"
"Not much. Blondie wasn't really forthcoming, but I do know…" He paused, closing his eyes in a long, painful blink.
"I can't believe I'm telling you this: Bethany, Hawke's sister, she... poor thing died in the Deep Roads because of the tainted darkspawn blood she'd come into contact with."
"Poor thing, indeed." Alistair shook his head.
"Once we got back to Kirkwall, without her, Anders was furious. He let slip that he could have saved her had he been there. He'd also let us know when we were coming up on any darkspawn. I figure, the Grey Warden's found a way to make the taint useful, but I'm guessing it's still deadly in the long run. How much time do you have?"
"Quite astute of you. With the Calling already happening, I can't be sure. If we can't stop it, my guess is less than a year before I'll leave for the Deep Roads for good. This Calling is… far worse that what would have happened naturally."
"Alright, so I see your point, but she likes you. And she hasn't batted her pretty eyelashes at anyone since day one. You could be a very lucky man, if only for the year."
"It isn't fair to her."
"True, but you could try the telling her the truth. She's a big girl."
No, she's not. She's fragile as it is.
In an uncharacteristically derisive tone, Alistair grumbled. "She's young and has no idea what her feelings mean. We've known each other for barely a week! It has to be infatuation at best."
Has to be, right?
"The heart wants what the heart wants." Varric gave him serious smile and shrugged.
Alistair snorted, crossing his arms over his chest in silent disagreement.
"Besides, what does the amount of time you know someone even matter in these times? Take what you can get, before it's too late. That's what I always say."
"There are a lot of things that need to be considered, Varric. I don't ever just 'take what I can get.' Maker's breath." He sighed, his hand covered his face again before he pulled it down, wiping the sleep from his eyes in the process. "Now is hardly the time for romance."
"Look at me."
Alistair turned his head abruptly.
Over a creased brow, dwarf pointed to the Warden to drive his point home. "I know what I see, and she's happier now compared to a week ago. It's because of you."
I suppose that's something.
The Warden allowed his mouth to curl into a small smile and Varric nodded to him, before he turned to walk back to his perch.
Alistair's stomach began to protest for lack of food. "Do you happen to have any food on you? I'm about to wake Cassandra to ask her to start making breakfast."
"Please . Don't do that. I get precious little time without that woman breathing down my neck about something." Varric rifled through his pack and threw a small wrapped parcel to Alistair.
As he opened it, his eyes lit up. Bread and cheese.
"I think you're my new best friend." They laughed together, the noise echoing off the cavern walls.
A tune began again, whistled from the dwarf as Alistair began to eat his light meal. Varric was growing on him and he could see why Gwen valued his input. He was quite a perceptive fellow and brought a comical personality to the group. In hard times, cheerful companions help to break apart the monotony of dread. And these were hard, dreadful times.
xXXXx
When they began their descent the day before, they had no idea how far they would have to travel or that they would have to step on rotted, wooden walkways to reach their present location. They had yet to reach the rift, but according to Gwen's pulsing hand, they were getting closer.
Down they went, into the maze of walkways and caverns, moving quickly and efficiently killing anything that moved between the camp and their current whereabouts. Gwen had cringed at every creak of the boards and stepped carefully on yet another slippery surface, all too aware of the black depths she could fall into at any moment.
Leading the way, she crept slowly. "Watch your step." She used her staff as a walking stick, hoping it would aid her should she slip.
Moving ahead she held a flame-ball torch in her hand, as she reached a new part of the caves.
"Varric!" She called out behind her and he came carefully to her side. "Dwarven ruins? Here? Are these the Deep Roads?"
He crossed his arms. "Yep. They're underneath everything. Just… be careful. The last time I found an uncharted Dwarven ruin, it didn't turn out so well. Darkspawn, deepstalkers… betrayal ." Varric shuddered.
Alistair chimed in from the tail of the party, "This could be part of the Deep Roads cut off from the rest, I suppose. I can't sense any darkspawn yet, but I'll keep you apprised if I do."
Gwen nodded to them both. "Onward then."
.
The group was getting quite efficient at fighting demons and had the combat movements memorized. Through the Dwarven ruins they traveled, finding a library, to Gwen's delight, and some other interesting treasures, which they stowed away in their packs for later appraisal.
When they reached a long corridor with the open fade rift in sight, the Inquisitor removed her glove for fear that the green sparks would catch the leather aflame. Solas assured everyone that it was not possible, but even so, Gwen felt more comfortable allowing the mark to flare without resistance.
She caught sight of Alistair's and Hawke's expression as they glimpsed her active hand for the first time. They both looked a bit sour at how it reacted to the proximity of the rift and in the dark depths, the crackling, sparking light bathed her in an eerie green.
"This is the last stop before we move on to that rift. I can sense that it's larger. Solas?" She turned to her elven friend.
"Yes. This one has been opened for a longer period and has grown substantially. We will need to dispatch a great number of demons to close it."
The Inquisitor nodded. "Take a small break and then we're going to end this finally. Looks like we'll be traveling back this way so leave packs here. Bring only what you need."
She turned to rummage through her own pack for a small snack and potions when Alistair came to her side.
Looking up at him, she commanded, "You should prepare—"
He spoke with confidence, starting to speak before she finished her words. "I'm ready."
They stared into one another's eyes a moment too long and she faltered, peering into her pack again. "Listen. Can we forget about last night? I wasn't thinking… I think I just needed some comfort after that demon and the cold. I'm sorry about... everything."
He reached out to lay a hand on hers as she held the bag and she gazed up at him hopefully. "Don't be sorry." Alistair gave her a tentative smile.
Dumbfounded, she peered at him, taking a deep breath as he walked away while she muttered to herself. "What does that mean?"
Biting into a crisp apple, she cleared her head, mentally preparing herself for battle as she consumed the fruit.
.
Nearing the large fade rift, they broke into two groups and separated, battling the demons on two fronts. Alistair and Cassandra knew they could take single opponents, but favored working with a mage and rogue to benefit the entire group. Positioned on the outer rim of the platform, Cassandra, Varric, and Solas stood encased in a magical barrier, striking at demons left and right.
A cry sounded over the rumbling and cracking of the fade rift. "Keep them off me so that I can disrupt the power from the Fade! It will weaken them considerably!" Gwen held out her hand and the sick green light streamed out from her palm, changing and contracting the open rift. "Here they come again!"
Alistair came to her side, slashing his sword at angry spirits, while Hawke stood raining arrows down upon demons before they even had a chance to get close. When one did, Alistair or Gwen was there to dispatch them or push them back far enough for his arrows to finish them off.
In their time at Caer Bronach, Solas taught Gwen one other beneficial magical effect: the ability to dispel other magic. He hypothesized that the same magic used to remove magical advantages from enemies could also disrupt the magic from the fade bubbles that birthed demons from the ground.
She readied her spell and experimentally positioned it over two of the erupting orifices. "Here we go, Solas!"
A white-blue ring emerged from the ground around the openings and a mist of magic flew up into the air. When it came down, the rift bubbles fizzled to nothing and no demons emerged. Gwen cried out across the cavern. "It worked!"
Solas chided her from his position several feet away, electric blasts coming from his staff as he responded. "Focus on the task at hand, falon. We're nearly finished."
Cassandra slashed her sword through a Terror demon's chest and called out. "That's the last. Close the rift, Inquisitor!"
Gwen ran to the center of the platform, away from Alistair and Hawke and held out her hand to the rift. A loud, rising buzz filled the room and again the sick green tendrils shot forth from her palm. They moved the rift around, condensing it until nothing was left but a hazy green smoke wafting in the air. She pulled her hand back to her side and placed her glove back on.
When she turned to face her companions, she again caught sight of Alistair and Hawke who stood close by, their expressions now filled with wonder and amazement, mixed with fear at their first experience closing a fade rift.
Hawke was the first to speak, albeit with a slight waver in his voice. "It's a wonder that your mark doesn't rip you apart when you use it. That's some powerful shit."
She laughed at him, "When I first used it, I thought the same thing. It pulls at me still, but I've managed to control it."
Alistair gaped absently at the air with wide eyes, but responded. "Yes… we can see that." His eyes sought hers and gave her a new look of admiration. "Incredible."
From across the platform Varric called out, "Let's clean this place of valuables and go home."
"I think we can all agree that we've spent enough time in these caves, hell, enough time in Crestwood, to be completely honest." Gwen laughed loudly, still giddy from the completion of her mission. "I'll follow your lead, Varric. Find us an easier way out of these ruins than the way we came, and I'll buy you a bottle of whatever you want, however expensive."
"Oh-ho! Inquisitor, you have yourself a deal."
Their gleeful laughs and banter echoed off the walls and they began to peruse the debris for anything of value, finishing as quickly as possible, and returning to the light of day using Varric's shortcut.
It was late afternoon when they reached the surface. Gwen sighed pleasantly at the bright sun on her face and shed her cloak and outer leather jacket to call more warmth down to her chilled skin. The trek across the old village was quick and the companions spoke few words, focusing their energies on making it to Caer Bronach. Tonight they would sleep, dry and undisturbed before their long journey back to Skyhold.
.
After a hot bath, Gwen returned to her quarters just in time to watch the sun set. Many an evening had she spent alone on the battlements of Skyhold watching the same setting sun, and she smiled at the familiarity. Her mind went to Leliana and the letters Charter had given her.
Quickly turning to her pack on the cot, she sat and pulled it into her lap, finding the parcel. Gently, she untied the cotton string and lifted the first one from the pile, holding it in her hands delicately as if it were something fragile and precious. She moved her pack and laid down on her stomach with her feet in the air. The letter lay before her and she sighed as she opened it and began to read.
...
12 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon
Skyhold
Dearest Gwen,
I wonder how your journey fares. I received your letter from the courier days ago when you were still traveling from Skyhold to Crestwood, but it has been several more days and I haven't heard from you. By now you're probably knee deep in whatever business has your attention and too busy for your dear, old Spymaster.
I laughed at that bit, for I know you most likely have written me many letters (as always) and the courier has yet to arrive with them.
The castle is so busy with construction, new recruits, amongst other things and I hardly have time to sleep some days. Today is slightly more still and for once I can sit and breathe in the crisp, cold air as it blows through my tower windows. I miss your presence and look forward to our talks when you return.
I hope you are finding Alistair to your liking. He's a good man and has a kind heart if he chooses to reveal it. The Grey Wardens have hardened him, starting ten years ago with my Mihna. In my tales, I play on her softer side, but in truth, she was a hard woman to follow. (Part of the reason why I love her so; she is unapologetically her own person.) I know how to handle stubborn people, but not everyone does.
I watched as Alistair slowly turned from a man of heart, to a man entirely focused on his duty. Ah, but those are stories for another time, my dear.
It is my truest belief that one needs compassion and logic to make the difficult decisions and you, my friend, have both of those traits. Alistair was once my friend and it pains me to think that he may not encompass those ideals anymore. Perhaps spending time with you will soften him again.
Maker protect you and guide you back home,
Leliana
…
A smile spread across Gwen's face and she reached for another letter, but before she could open it, there was a knock at her door. She stood, running her fingers through her dark, damp hair before opening the door to find Cassandra waiting, a slight grin on her face.
"Come with me, you have got to see this." The Seeker beckoned Gwen to follow, so she grabbed her light leather jacket and obliged.
"What's going on?" The Inquisitor questioned as they walked.
Cassandra allowed herself to smirk fully, picking up her pace until they reached the upper battlements surrounding the lower courtyard. "Bull returned from his mission and he's causing quite a stir among the soldiers."
"Oh my."
Before them, filling up the small entryway, were two wagon-loads of spoils either looted from the ruins or cut from the belly of the High Dragon. Along with the loot, was the beast's giant head, which the Qunari straddled, with an open cask under one arm and a mug in his hand. His cheers could be heard throughout the keep.
Gwen peered over to her friend and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What a glorious day this has been, Cassandra."
"Indeed." She smiled back, surveying the prizes in the wagons below with wide eyes. They both turned and descended the nearest set of stairs to give their congratulations to their companions, and of course, join in on the revelry for one last night. The Crestwood missions were complete and tomorrow they would begin their travels back to Skyhold.