A/N: Reminder: Alistair's perspective is under the heading oOOOo
Language warning (because this is rated T and I take the ratings seriously, heh.): Hawke uses the f-word in this chapter. I debated taking it out or changing the rating, but it's one little word and it's purposeful in its use and I don't intend to keep using it. This is aggressive Hawke, and anyone who's played through DA:2 knows what depravity he's capable of.
Disclaimer: Bioware owns this world and the people in it.
xXXXx
17 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon
Personal Journal
Caer Bronach, Crestwood
It's really too early to be writing… my mind is still in a fog from recent sleep and the sun is still down. I can barely see the parchment in this low light, but I can't seem to slip back into the Fade, however hard I try.
I'm excited about starting our journey back home in a few hours, and perhaps excited at the prospect of spending the entire trip with him.
That kiss… the damnable kiss. I replay it in my mind and it gives me the shivers.
He protected me again, from the cold this time. Sleeping next to him was… wonderful.
I'm more than a little embarrassed at my actions, but there was a feeling in that moment when he kissed me back and there was... something to it… more than just a simple kiss. Am I imagining things?
Damn, it was a good kiss though. And now I need to force it from my mind: there's work to be done.
One final breakfast and meeting with Bull at Caer Bronach, then we'll pack the supplies on our horses and begin the long road.
Bull has graciously offered to take the news of our success to the Mayor and locals in the Village so that we may leave at daybreak which… is… sooner than I thought. Maker, the Sun will be up within the hour.
Skyhold, here we come.
…
The well-rested horses, eager travelers, and few breaks made for a quick pace. It was late afternoon on the first day of their travel when the group came to a fork, taking the northwestern road called the Imperial Highway. That particular road was a maintained, well traveled path that would lead them around the northern tip of Lake Calenhad, then westward toward Skyhold.
At the fork, the road beneath them turned from an uneven mess of dirt, foliage, and large rocks, into a smooth, hard surface free of holes and debris. A few large oak trees hung over the sides of the road and beyond them were hill upon hill of green fields, the new growth peeking out and stretching their first leaves high toward the evening sun. To the west, the sun descended on the horizon turning the sky from pale blue to orange to purple as it fell.
Cassandra, the most experienced rider, led the group switching between a steady canter and a trot, allowing the horses time to rest, eat, and drink. Soon, their bodies began to bear the brunt of their riding pains and complaints of aches were voiced around their party.
Following the Seeker's lead, Gwen slowed her horse to a gentle stop and pulled out a map. "I swear there was an inn around here somewhere."
Varric pulled up beside her and reached out to hold one side of the map. "I think it was… here." He pointed his finger to a dot on the map. "We just started on the highway, so it looks to be a ways ahead."
"Oh, of course; it was near the Circle Tower. What was the name of it again?" She scrunched her face up.
"Oh, you mean the Spoiled Princess." Riding up to her other side, Alistair paused. "I wonder if they still serve rabbit on Tuesdays… is today Tuesday?
Gwen and Varric looked over to him, lifting their eyebrows in amusement. The rest of their party gathered directly behind them. "What? I trekked across Ferelden several times during the Blight. We stopped here on occasion."
"Did I hear someone say that we're getting rooms at an inn?" The irritability could be heard in Hawke's voice as he sighed. "My ass, for one, would appreciate it."
"I happen to agree with him." Gwen laughed aloud and pivoted her head to see Solas shaking his head and groaning lightly at the rogue's crudeness. "We've got the coin and this will be the last time we'll be able to sleep in a bed for a few days, so—"
"We all agree to it." Cassandra broke in, ending the debate, if there ever truly was one. "But we should keep moving or night will be upon us before we get there."
The Inquisitor nodded and clicked her tongue to the tawny Taslin Strider beneath her. "Let's go, girl."
Allowing Cassandra to take the lead again, she held back purposefully until she set a leisurely pace alongside Alistair. She wanted to resume their friendship without having to worry about what happened in the caves.
Diving right back in seemed the best actions and so, the two brought up the rear of their traveling party. In an endeavor to find something to fill the silence between them, Gwen peered behind them at the empty dirt road.
"These roads are very clean. No debris or fallen trees, I wonder who takes care of them." Gwen said aloud, attempting idle conversation.
As if reciting from a history book, Alistair responded. "The Teyrns have allocated funds for such things and instruct the Arls or Banns to pay local farmers to clear the roads in the busy seasons. It's actually a fair deal between the nobles and farmers: the roads are clear for use by all and the farmers make some money before their crops fully come in, around mid-Justinian. We're lucky we're traveling in the end Spring though. Months ago these northern roads would still have been covered with snow and winter debris." Alistair flashed her a brief smile before turning his head away in sudden embarrassment.
She pondered for a moment before speaking, "Tell me, how is a Grey Warden so knowledgeable about the affairs of the nobility in Ferelden?"
"Oh, I… just read a lot." He kept his head turned away.
"You do?" Gwen tilted her head in bewildered excitement, as reading was one of the woman's favorite pastime. "I've haven't seen you with a book."
"Yes, well, I don't carry them with me." His answer came after a few moments. "I just, you know, read books when I have the chance."
"I do remember talking about your interest in how the Inquisition works when... we… before the wolves, you know."
He nodded and gave a thin lipped smile.
Lost in recalling their delightful morning together in Crestwood, he shook her head slightly. "Why is it you enjoy reading books on the functions of Ferelden nobility?"
Alistair furrowed his brows in irritation. "I just like to know how things work, that's all. It's a… curiosity."
The mage shrugged at her companion. "Fair enough, I'm not one to judge. I myself enjoy reading personal journals. The Circle had dozens of them from mages and even some from Templars." She stared ahead wistfully, moving along with the horse's gait. Her disposition changed from content to sullen and her posture became more rigid.
Alistair noticed the change in her and spoke lowly. "You miss it, don't you?"
She snapped to the present and looked over to him. "What? Oh." A gentle blush graced her cheeks and she laughed, "I suppose I do. I miss the time alone most of all."
Gwen made a wide hand gesture from atop the horse, grabbing the reins as her horse lurched to slow at her awkward, pulling movements. "Do you know how long it's been since I've had a full day to myself?" She recovered and held the reins in her hands again, as Cassandra taught her.
The Warden appeased her by answering, while suppressing a grin at her amateur riding skills. "No, how long?"
"Over eight months! Well before the Conclave. After the rebellion, I used to spend entire days in the tower library researching, looking over the wreckage for anything that could have helped the Mages and Templars to make peace. I thought the journals would help, but no one had faith in the words of their predecessors." She looked over to Alistair who listened intently. "Circle life wasn't bad for me, even before I became an Enchanter. In the end, I wanted the fighting to stop and to return to some semblance of what we were. Hopeless dreams, I suppose."
Gwen continued, "I managed to salvage some books, but much was lost in the fires set by my fellow mages who decided, after years of working, dining, sleeping beside us, we were worth killing because of our beliefs. It sickens me: all our hard work, all of the knowledge lost in that mess."
"Why would other mages want to kill you?"
"I'm an Aequetarian. I believe in the Circles existence, not as a controlling prison, but as a place for learning and self-discipline. Ostwick Circle was never as bad as others. The terrifying stories I've heard from Cullen..."
She shook her head, disgusted, before continuing her rant. "Edmund and I both wanted peace, and we thought we could set an example for the others by our trust in one another. Though I suppose we were a poor one, given our secret relationship. Though respectable fellows, I shudder to think what the other Templars might have done had they found out."
"I'm sure they'd look the other way. You'd be surprised how many secret relationships there were among Mages and Templars. The, ah, Hero of Ferelden, she hinted to many such relationships among her peers."
"Really?" The Inquisitor bit her lip in thought, trying to think of couplings. "I admit I wasn't particularly focused on romance as a young adult and I only recall one other pair in my recent travels." Her voice came out in a whisper and her eyes focused on Alistair as she explained.
"In the Hinterlands we recruited a mage woman who also had a Templar lover, though he killed himself. I… have a copy of the letter in one of my codices at home. It was terrible to read. The poor man couldn't cope with their relationship and… well, you understand. Though the circumstances were much different, it reminded me of my own loss." She turned her head back forward, focusing on the ride.
Her partner began in a low voice, "We don't need to speak of this anymore if you're uncomfortable. I didn't mean for the conversation to take a turn toward him."
"Does it bother you to hear about him?"
"No, I don't mind." Alistair looked over to her, but her eyes shot down the road before she spoke again.
"I'm sorry to bring it up, but my mind is still processing what happened in the caves." She looked over to him, meeting his eyes again, attempting to convey her meaning.
"You mean, the demon?" He held her gaze, a glimmer of curiosity in his eye.
Gwen's voice became coy. "The demon, yes, amongst other things..."
"I can relate." Alistair looked away when she alluded to their kiss.
She smiled kindly at him, hoping to get him to open up to her. "That man, the one the demon took form of to tempt you, who was he?"
The man's eyes saddened at the recollection and he answered in a hushed tone. "He was my mentor, my friend, and the Grey Warden who recruited me into the Order."
"You have such reverence in your voice; he must have meant a great deal to you."
"Yes, he did." Alistair cast his honey-brown eyes to her, smiling. "He took me from a life I never wanted, where I was never wanted, and gave me purpose. When he died, I felt like I lost my chance at knowing what a father could feel like."
Her voice attempted to conceal the pity she felt, unsuccessfully. "You never knew your father?"
"Nor my mother. She died shortly after I was born." When he spoke his tone and face were impassive.
"Oh, Alistair." Gwen tilted her head gently and reached her hand out to touch his forearm, her thumb stroking him.
The kindness was noted and he smiled quickly and looked away, his composure faltering briefly before he lifted his chest and took a deep breath. "Can we… speak of something else? I'm not quite ready to discuss my family, or lack thereof. It's a complicated affair."
"Of course. I'm sorry."
Alistair took control of the conversation, disallowing the finish of her thought, eager to change the subject. "How are you feeling after seeing Edmund?"
Stunned at his forthrightness, she blinked before answering thoughtfully, barely concealing her chagrin at his new choice of topic. "It was difficult to see his likeness, I admit, but I feel a kind of closure now that I didn't feel before."
"I understand, actually."
The Inquisitor nodded with a thin smile, "I'm trying to get over everything that happened down there. Especially, the way I acted toward you." Embarrassed, Gwen looked ahead to their companions.
"Wait." Alistair reached out for her reins and they both stopped in the middle of the road. "If we ignore the kiss, it'll only grow into unimaginable tension."
Gwen's throat tightened uncomfortably. "What do you propose we do?"
"I'm sorry that I refused to talk about it then. Can we clear the air between us?"
Her face fell as she spoke, anticipating his rejection by the tone of his voice. "I should be the one apologizing. I could blame the cold or the demon, or the need to feel warm and alive, but truly, it was me putting my selfish desires above my position. These are troubled times, and... love does not belong here." Gwen swallowed the lump in her throat.
Alistair nodded his agreement and looked over to her and holding her gaze as they rode on. "Can we continue on, as friends? I'd be remiss if I let that go because I allowed this one incident to change our relationship."
The woman's insides twisted at the words, but she answered him with a smile. "Yes, of course."
The Warden nodded once again and a thin smile crossed his lips.
The conversation lulled and the noises of the road became more apparent as each of their minds swam in thought. The clop of the hooves on the hardened dirt road made a rhythm, and birds chirped, landing on the sides of the roads to flounder in the loose soil.
Cassandra turned around at the front of the group, calling out to them all. "Let's try a faster pace, we don't have too far to go and I for one don't mind pressing the horses a bit to reach the inn more quickly."
Gwen called out hastily, eager for the ride to clear her mind, "I'm in agreement. Lead the way, Cassandra." Before the pace quickened she stole another glance at the man beside her, his quiet smile greeted her and, despite her attempts to purge his presence from her mind, the man occupied her thoughts the rest of the way to the inn.
.
Just before the sun set, they crested a hill, slowing as they neared their destination. The fork they took off of the main highway ended at the Lake Calenhad Docks, the empty Ferelden Circle Tower, and the Inn and Tavern: The Spoiled Princess. Gwen rode to the lake's edge and peered out to the giant, foreboding tower that shot up darkly from the fog rising from the water.
A shiver ran through her as she recalled the stories Leliana and Cullen told her and the books she read pertaining to its fall during the Blight. Since the Circle had rebelled, the tower remained empty, a black mark on the land, a reminder of the plight of the Ferelden mages.
Backing the mare away from the water, she led her over to the meager stables next to the inn and dismounted, her companions already trotting to the shabby out-building. Leading her horse into one of the stalls she looked around for a stable hand and when none could be found, she left her horse in the company of Cassandra and went into the inn.
The scent was the first thing she noticed as she walked through the doorway: stale beer and wood smoke. There were no patrons and the innkeeper was nowhere to be seen. Gwen strode to the bar and knocked on the counter. A strangled wheeze could be heard from the back room and the nervous mage leapt over the counter in a flash, pulling the curtain aside, setting her eyes on the sleeping, snoring innkeeper.
She placed her hand on her chest. "Maker's breath, man, I thought you were in trouble!"
He continued to snore, unaware of her intrusion.
"Ahem." She voiced louder, but got no response. "Excuse me?" She called out even louder and when that didn't work, she gave the man a kick to the bottom of his foot.
"Wha-? Andraste's ass! What are ye doin back here? This is a private area!" He jolted up in the chair he was just lounging in and pushed her out to the front room, placing her on the other side of the bar. Once she was there, he smoothed his greasy, dark-grey hair back and smiled politely at her.
"Now. What can I do for ye?"
"We need three rooms and stalls for six horses for the night." Gwen smiled sweetly at the man's wide eyed expression. "Oh, and I'm sure my companions would be interested in dinner and ale, if you have it. Rabbit, perhaps?"
The innkeeper smiled through his yellowed, crooked teeth. "Ain't no problem at all! As you can see business is a little slow since… well... you know, everything that happened with the Circles. Haven't seen this many travelers at once since last summer."
Gwen slapped her hand lightly on the smooth wooden counter. "Well, I'm so very glad you decided to stay open. My friends and I are weary from the day's ride. Would you help with the horses? Personally, I'm not very familiar with taking off her saddle and... whatnot." She saw the hesitation in his eyes. "I can pay you for the service, of course."
"Right!" His smile returned and he pointed a thumb behind him. "I'll fetch my son and meet ye out by the stable."
.
An hour later, all the horses were stalled and resting with fresh oats and hay for dinner. Most of the group had made their way into the inn to wait for dinner and to rest their tired bodies for the evening. As she turned to follow the teenage boy back into the inn, Gwen caught sight of someone sitting against the post on the dock of the lake and meandered over.
Curious, she walked closer to the dock, her approach muffled by the sounds of spring: bullfrogs, crickets, and the occasional splash of a jumping fish.
Several feet away she realized the man was Hawke and turned slightly to leave, before pivoting back to him again, resolved to extend a hand of friendship with her adversary of the last week. The creak of a dock board sounded as she tried to sneak up on him and he turned his head toward her, laughing coldly as his head hit the back of the post with a dull thud.
"What do you want?" He sighed at her.
Gwen huffed lightly. "You know, when I saw it was you out here I was going to turn right around and leave."
"Is that supposed to persuade me to invite you to sit?" Hawke spat.
"No. I thought it was worth mentioning that I still came."
"Why did you?" He snarled at her.
"I don't know... I suppose it's because we both had a traumatic experience recently." She looked across the lake. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Hawke scoffed and laughed coldly. "No! I don't want to talk about it. Leave me be."
Despite his words, Gwen took the few steps to where he sat and leaned on the dock post across from him. "Were you ever here before the rebellion?"
"No." His answer was short and he leaned his arms on his knees, gazing at the weathered wood of the dock between his feet.
"Neither was I. I heard stories, the horrible things that happened there during the Fifth Blight. Did you know that Commander Cullen—"
Words came out of his mouth in a quick string. "I don't really want to talk about that lout or the Circle Tower."
"Oh." The realization hit Gwen with a pain deep in her stomach and she wanted to run back to the inn in embarrassment. "Hawke, I'm so sorry, I forgot that he, that Anders—"
"Don't say his name." The defeated tone in his voice was apparent and the cruelty of his former words was gone.
Gwen stayed and lowered herself to the dock and after a few moments she spoke. "The man who I saw that night, he was a Templar at my Circle and... my lover. The demon said things that he would never say just to make me feel the sadness I couldn't let go of. They weren't real, Hawke."
The rogue pulled a flask from his belt and took a long draw, wiping his mouth on his sleeve afterwards. "Doesn't mean that what they said wasn't the truth."
His words lit a fire in Gwen's eyes and she tensed as she spoke. "That's exactly what it means! Demons lie. It's what they do to pull at our emotions and draw us into their grasp. The demon fed on that buried grief. We just need to work on letting that grief, and guilt, go."
He slammed his fist into the dock boards beneath him. "Shut up! Just shut your damn mouth. You talk too much, and I don't want to hear these things from you. And would you stop trying to befriend me! You have no idea who I am, no idea how I feel." Hawke buried his face in his hands. "Just leave me alone."
Though her heart raced, begging her to flee, she stayed calm and kept talking. "I may not have dealt the killing blow to Edmund, but I know the guilt of watching him die, knowing that I'm alive and well. I know the pain! Why do you think you and I were such easy targets?"
"We're nothing alike." He shook his head, dismissing her words, and took another swig from the flask.
"We're not so different, Hawke. We both took positions of power because someone thought we were the best suited for the job. The jobs are different, yes, but the expectations are the same. At Caer Bronach, I—I blew up at you because you told me I wasn't willing to make a sacrifice, and it got to me. I hate to admit it, but you might have been right. Sometimes sacrifices must be made."
"What?" He tilted his head at her.
Gwen sighed loudly and continued on in a low, shameful tone. "I wanted to leave, I wanted to make that sacrifice."
"But you didn't." The rogue narrowed his eyes at her, reading into her words and expression.
"No, I couldn't. But I realized that someday…"
After a moment, his eyes loosened and a whisper came from his lips, finishing her words. "That someday, you will have to." He held her gaze and took another sip, hesitantly handing the flask to her as she reached out to take it. "I understand that."
Gwen pulled the flask from his hand and took a long swallow. Through the fit of coughs, she managed to speak. "Oh dear, Hawke. What is this?"
He laughed. "Hardest stuff I could find in that tavern across the bridge behind Caer Bronach. Probably locally made."
She handed it back to him, smiling through another cough. "I think I'll stick to wine or ale."
"To each his own." He shrugged.
He looked out to the circle and his eyes saddened before he turned back to her. "I understand having to make sacrifices, someone has to do it, otherwise many more will suffer from the results of doing nothing."
Gwen nodded to him, her eyes finding a weathered knot in the wood on the dock, taking in his words.
"Shit, people think I'm this madman, making rash decisions left and right, but I have a code I follow. There will always be people who are unhappy with your decision, no matter which route you choose, remember that."
She looked up to him and smiled. "You've got a good bit of insight, Hawke."
He groaned, grimacing in earnest. "Oh, don't get soft on me. Tomorrow, I'll be bitching at you again for some reason or another." Hawke took a small sip and pursed his lips into a smirk.
"And who says you're a madman?" Gwen winked at him, bringing the conversation back to the lighter side of life.
Hawke raises an eyebrow. "Varric, for one."
They laughed together, allowing it to die away naturally, their eyes meeting each other in an awkward stare.
Gwen broke the moment of silence, compassion filling her voice. "Do you want to talk about him? This is where he lived, was it not?"
Hawke half-smiled and looked at the dock at his feet again. "Yes, he lived here."
"Life in the Circle: I remember the days like they were yesterday. Kinloch Hold was more severe with its rules about leaving the tower though. How did he leave its confines?"
"He escaped. A lot." Hawke laughed. "The eighth and final time he broke out, he was recruited into the Grey Wardens by the Hero. What a cunning man, that's what drew me to him… that and how compassionate he was underneath all his damn foolishness." His words ended in a whisper, yet were full of emotion.
"I've only heard a little bit about him. He opened a clinic, in Kirkwall, right?"
"Yes. That's where we first met. We needed a Grey Warden."
"They are handy, aren't they?" Gwen smiled and looked away from Hawke, allowing the noises of dusk to fill the space between them.
"You like him." He stated quietly.
"Alistair?" In a sudden flash, Gwen's eyes darted to Hawke's and she blushed under the low light of evening. "No, I… he's a friend, that's all. " Her response came, but she looked away from the rogue again with slight sadness.
Hawke just shook his head.
"How long have you known Alistair?"
Hawke thought for a moment, then responded. "I suppose... it'll be nearly six years, on and off. We first met in Kirkwall during the Qunari attack, he aided us briefly then went about his Warden business. Never met a man more concerned with his duty. He fought through a city under attack just to conduct his business, then left. And let me tell you: we could have used the help. I've been wracking my brain trying to figure out why he's joined up with you."
"He's desperate."
"You're right." His dark hair shook as he nodded forcefully. "He was desperate six months ago, when he came back to Kirkwall in search for answers about the Warden's Prison. He'd made the connection between Corypheus and the magister from the news of the Conclave. Even after the Commander put a price on his head, the fool still wanted to help them."
"His dedication is admirable, but I agree that it's misplaced."
"He was alone and in hiding, and so was I. I was ready to leave the city at that point, so I offered to join him. Together we followed the clues leading us to the Inquisition and then Crestwood—"
Gwen nodded, filling in the blank with her own part of the story,"—where you joined our cause." She paused, then changed the subject. "You must know him quite well then?"
"Not as well as I'd like." He smirked at her, huffing out a laugh. "He's a good man, I know that. And I found myself in your situation during our travels."
"Do you mean, you fancied him?" Gwen's eyes widened in true shock. "Is this why you were so protective of him after his injury at Caer Bronach?"
Nodding, he took a swig of his flask. "It was unavoidable. There were moments, are moments even now, when Alistair reminds me of Anders. It took me a while to understand that my infatuation was unhealthy. No one can replace Anders. I think I follow him to compensate for what I… did. Anders had a good heart. Alistair has a good heart." Hawke shook his head. "We're really getting deep here, aren't we?"
Smiling at his admission, she spoke, "I'm as surprised as you are, and still recovering from your confession: you had feelings for him? Did you ever tell him? Did he… reciprocate?"
The man began a lively, rolling laughter that echoed off the lake, as the laugh broke down to a chuckle he brought his eyes to meet the mage's. "Maker, no! I think the mere mention of my affection would've been enough to send him from my presence straightaway!"
Reaching her hand up to cover her own smile she chuckled, "I think you're wrong; he would have politely refused, under a bright red flush of skin."
"Yes, you're right." Hawke chuckled and picked at a splinter of wood with his finger. "You understand him, don't you?"
"I'm beginning to understand all of you, honestly. We've spent an entire week together, barely parted, and that kind of exposure to people outside of your family is very revealing."
"At least in Kirkwall my people had their own homes to return to after our trips." He winced at a thought, and laughed. "I'm not sure I could have spent this kind of time with some of them. How do you do it?"
Without thinking she answered, staring blankly at the dock beneath her. "I count the days until we reach Skyhold again."
"What's the count?"
"Five days, less if Cassandra can push the Taslins further."
Hawke groaned. "I'll be counting with you, then."
Snapping to the present and curious to hear more about Alistair, she pressed him. "So… What did you two talk about when you traveled with him?"
Hawke reclined his head back and rolled his eyes at her. "Mostly our past, stories from our travels… I don't know and I can't rightly recall the finer details now." Lifting his flask, he shook it gently.
His features twisted in confusion. "If you want to know more about him, why not talk to him?"
A warm haze had begun to fall over Gwen's body. It loosened her muscles so much that she leaned lazily into the post, dangling her legs over the side of the dock. "We have talked, but not a whole lot since, well… not since the Crestwood caves. I kissed him." Gwen covered her face, embarrassed.
Hawke raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "It went that bad? Hhm, maybe he does prefer men."
She shook her head from under her hands. "I think I was delirious when we kissed, and so yes, it was mortifying. After that, we decided to simply be friends."
The rogue laughed loudly. "I used to use delirium as an excuse for my behavior too."
The mage dropped her hands into her lap with a plop and glared at her cohort for his outburst. "You're an arse."
"And you're a sap."
Gwen rolled her eyes before smirking at the man.
"You sensitive types over complicate things." He laughed and took a sip from his flask again. "Just fuck, and things will work out in the end."
Gwen's jaw dropped and her face reddened at his crude use of words. "I—I can't believe you just said that! Maker, if I keep sitting here, I'm going to need more alcohol to numb myself to your vulgarity."
A chuckle of laughter erupted from him and he handed her the flask again. "Well, there I can oblige. Don't spend too much time with me or I will corrupt your innocence."
His laughter died away and he met Gwen's gaze as she took a small sip, wincing as it burned down her throat.
Hawke spoke again. "The only person who I couldn't corrupt was Alistair. After all the time we spent together, he's still a good man, with morals and values and all those things I normally can't stand about people. Alistair is different though."
"Did you try to corrupt him?" Gwen allowed a sly smirk to hit her face and she passed the flask back to its owner.
"Is that… some sort of euphemism?"
"Of course not! I'm truly curious. You spent all that time with him..." She trailed off, eager for the rogue to speak again.
Hawke began to chuckle deeply. "I tried and failed. That man is a rock. He's incorruptible, impenetrable!" Taking another swig from his flask, laughing loudly before he handed it to Gwen, who took another sip of her own.
A fit of laughter came over her as well and their symphony rang out across the lake. "You are so incredibly lewd! I can't believe you said that. Poor man would be so red in the face were he to—"
"—be standing right behind you?" Alistair emerged from the shadows at the end of the dock and walked slowly towards the pair, his arms crossed, his face definitely not red. They turned toward him, wide-eyed and finally quiet. "I came out here to see what was taking you so long and I find you drinking together and talking about me, of all things. I suppose I should be glad that you've finally found something in common: making fun of me."
Gwen was the first to respond and she spared a glance at Hawke who suppressed a grin. "Don't flatter yourself. We were talking about a lot of things, Alistair. You just happened to be at the tail end of the conversation." She lifted herself from the dock, handed the nearly empty flask back to Hawke, and walked to stand with the Warden. "We're about to come in."
Alistair called out as she neared him, his arms still crossed and a smirk on his lips. "Good. Dinner is ready and the fire inside is a hundred times more inviting than this old, damp dock."
"Well, you've convinced me." The rogue jumped to rise, staggered and made his way toward where Gwen and Alistair stood, pausing to lay a hand on each of their shoulders before he shuffled back toward the inn.
"Remember what I said: the sensitive types overcomplicate everything." He called out behind him as he walked away.
Gwen stood a foot away from him, swaying gently, a liquor induced smile on her pink lips. In a husky voice, she whispered to him, taking a step closer. "Did you hear that bit?"
"I did." He whispered back, reaching his hands to steady her shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes.
"Just so happens that I completely disagree, in case you were wondering." Alistair motioned with a nod to the inn. "Come."
"Are you angry with me for asking him about you?" They walked together slowly and spoke quietly. "I was only curious what the two of you were like on your own."
"No, I'm not angry. Though, I'd be careful with him. You can never tell when that man is lying.
"Yes, he keeps you on your toes." Gwen's words trailed off.
With his hand on her arm, she was pulled to a stop a few feet before the door. Alistair turned her to face him and spoke in a low voice. "Gwen, you are a singular woman."
He took a step toward her and she heard her accelerated heartbeat thudding in her ear as they stood together in the cool air of night. Courageous from the liquor, she admonished him with a sly grin. "Alistair, if you intend to say things like that, in that sort of voice, then it's going to be hard to remember I'm only supposed to be your friend."
He stared sternly at her forcing the words out and gesturing to the dock where she sat with Hawke. "I only meant that last week you were ready to throw a punch at him and tonight you ventured to make him a friend."
Dismayed, she brushed him off and waved his compliment away as she turned toward the inn. "I took a gamble. Hawke and I, we shared something dreadful. I wanted him to know that he's not alone in the guilt and grief. I feel it too."
Alistair followed a few steps behind her. "All the same, you're opening up and it's a good thing."
Pausing a few feet from the door, she turned to look at him, sending him a thin smile. "Perhaps I'm learning that friends are worth having, no matter how difficult it may be to be in their presence."
He lowered his eyes and clutched his stubbled chin as he closed the gap between them and followed her into the tavern.
xXXXx
18 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon
Personal Journal- On route to Skyhold Imperial Highway, north of Lake Calenhad
What. A. Day. I am utterly exhausted, physically and mentally. We slept well at the Spoiled Princess last night, but Cassandra kept us all on a strict schedule all day and even into the evening.
Tonight, we set up camp by firelight. I think she may be more intent on reaching Skyhold than even I.
I'm writing on watch again, the small fire behind me creates a delicious warmth on my sore muscles, though the light it is providing is pitiful and my eyes are strained.
The Imperial Highway is a blessing to travel. I feel excited at our progression. Two days gone and we're almost to Orzammar. The walls of Skyhold call to me. I want to sleep in my own bed again.
I pity the horses, but Cassandra assures me that the Taslins are bred for endurance. I still give my sweet Sophia apple slices throughout the day to keep her spirits up.
Not much time for talk with my fellows today. I think everyone feels the same thing: too tired and focused on the journey to think about talking. We made small meals or foraged for foods while the horses rested and drank, keeping us even more on task than day one.
Alistair and I have been somewhat distant since agreeing to be only friends. I wish we could move beyond the kiss, but I can't get it out of my mind. I wonder if this means that my feelings toward him aren't simply infatuation and maybe I care about him more than I admit.
Dear Maker, that would spell disaster for me since, he's made it clear we should be friends. I have to respect his choice.
Alas, these types of thoughts are best left for a time when my mind is sharper.
Tomorrow we intend to pass by the Dwarven city and make it south of Jader. It will be the last of our travel on the highway as we begin our trek up into the Frostbacks. I, for one, am grateful for the weather, it shouldn't be terribly cold this time of year.
My thoughts are everywhere. I know upon my return to Skyhold, the slow lull of life I've become accustomed to these last weeks will fall away and I'll be busy again. I admit, I need the distraction.
I can't stop thinking about Alistair. I'm not daydreaming that he'll change his mind and suddenly confess his affection to me, nothing like that.
I just wonder why he's so guarded.
I wonder why he only wants to be friends.
I wonder if it has something to do with getting his heart broken by Mihna Surana all those years ago.
I'm too tired to continue this in my journal, but rest assured, my mind will swim until I fall asleep tonight, which won't be long now. I may have to have someone relieve me of watch. I can barely keep my eyes open. Off to wake Cassandra.
...
~Green leaves rustle in the late summer breeze, bringing the blue afternoon sky into view and then out again as the branches move with the wind. Opening her eyes to the peculiar sight, Gwen gasps and sits upright.
She's under a tree in the middle of a field and she hears a one-sided conversation in her vicinity. Curious, she decides to investigate and creeps around the side of the tree.
Staying hidden, she watches as a boy, no more than ten, dances around excitedly with a small wooden sword, wearing a burlap sack over his clothing. On a rock, a few feet away, there lay a stuffed toy rabbit. By the look of it, is greatly loved by its owner: one of its eyes had stitches missing and its body was stained and lumpy.
Suddenly, the boy calls out a single sharp whistle and a distance away, bounding through the tall fields, comes a huge creature with black fur.
"Bear!" The boy calls out.
Gwen doesn't think, only acts on her protective instincts and dashes in to stand in front of the boy as the 'bear' closes in. She pulls at her magic, unintentionally creating a shower of sparks from the mark on her left hand. A giant barrier encompasses the boy, the stuffed rabbit, and the entire tree.
Behind her she feels a light kick to her foot and she turns to see a frightened boy cowering on the ground, shielding his eyes from her crackling hand, pushing himself away from her on small, hurried feet. She shakes away the magic as best as she can and kneels with her right hand up in surrender.
"It's alright; I won't hurt you."
"Y—you're a mage!"
"I'm an Enchanter. I have control over my magic, I promise." She decides to clench her left hand behind her back until it behaves.
The boy nods reluctantly, calming himself enough to sit upright and pull his burlap armor over his head. "Are you here to see the Arlessa?"
"No." Gwen rises as the boy rises. "Is she hurt?"
"She's got a baby in her belly that won't come out." The sandy haired boy kicks at the grass in the clearing, looking at the ground with scorn. "I heard Eamon say that if the babe doesn't come on it's own soon, they'll call for Circle mages."
The mage tilted her head in confusion. "Eamon Guerrin? Of Redcliffe?"
"Ye-es. He's the Arl," the boy states with an obvious tone.
Gwen knew the current Arl was Eamon's brother and a spike of fear shot up her spine at the thought that time might be twisted again somehow. She decided to question the boy further.
"What about his brother, Teagan?"
"Oh." He considers this for a moment, then grins holding up his weapon. "Teagan is the best! He gave me this sword, see? Sometimes when he isn't busy in the castle, he comes to visit me. We play with the dogs and sometimes he even lets me help choose which ones will go out on the hunt!"
"Hm."
Speaking of dogs seems to loose something in the boy and he runs around her, picking up the rabbit under one arm. "Bear!"
Gwen begins to panic. "Where?"
"No." He laughs easily. "Bear is a dog."
"Of course he is." Gwen chuckles sarcastically, dropping the barrier around them.
"Bear! Come here, boy!" A near bellow comes from the boy, and the bounding resumes until the dark animal comes into the clearing.
It is indeed a large, black dog with a close resemblance to a small bear. He nuzzles the boy, licks him, then bites at the stuffed rabbit.
As if he had rehearsed it, the boy stretches his sword out and yells. "Unhand the innocent, ye foul beast!"
Widening her eyes in amusement, she stands still to watch the show.
The boy lurches forward with his sword, playfully attacking the dog as it rips at the stuffed animal. The dog rolls over for his playmate and after rescuing the rabbit from his clutches, the boy trots away to the tree. There he tends the poor thing's wound.
The woman watches the boy's face drop as he examines the stuffed rabbit's arm, torn loose from the attack. He holds it gingerly into his arms and brings it before her.
"Do you think you could heal him, ma'am?"
Gwen smiles warmly. Freeing her wavy chestnut hair, she pulls away the cloth tie and affixes it to the animal's arm. "This is only temporary. I believe this little guy would do better with more of a traditional suture, than magical medicine, but I do think he'll live."
"Hear that, Oliver?" He smiles down at the toy. "The pretty lady says you'll be fine."
As if the boy has another pressing idea, he pulls at her hand and leads her to the tree. Nailed to the trunk are many boards that led up to the high branches.
"Follow me!'
Once up, they keep climbing at the insistence of the boy until they sit precariously at the top and can look out over the field. A large castle comes into view: Redcliffe Castle.
"Do you live there?" Gwen asks.
The boy scrunches his face in annoyance. "I used to, but the Arlessa… she didn't like me there. I live in the Chantry now."
Confused, by his words, she nods glumly. "You're such a sweet, well-mannered boy. Why would she make you leave?"
He shrugs and sits Oliver on the branch next to him. "I guess… it's because I'm a bastard."
Gwen's mouth drops open in shock, her heart plummeting at his words.
Before she can respond, the boy looks up to her with kind, honey-brown eyes and asks her with true innocence. "Does it bother you that I'm a bastard?"
Eyes widening in a startling realization, she presses her lips together and whispers to him. "I don't mind one bit, Alistair."
"Hey! You know my name!" The boy-Alistair's smile is huge and he drops down a few branches, off on his way to another adventure. "Will you play with me? I'll be the brave knight and you can be the princess. I'll rescue you from evil!"
"Of course," She states, though her mind begins to question her surroundings for the first time. The boy slips down the tree, out of her view.
"I must be dreaming… but why of Alistair, especially him as a young boy." Cautiously, she begins her descent, thinking the entire climb down. "I'm missing something here."
By the time she reaches the last branch, her thoughts give her no more clues and only more questions. Intent on answering them before the dream ends, she realizes she must find the boy. Perching on the last branch, she decides to jump.
oOOOo
~Across endless rolling hills, fields of wheat blow in the late summer breeze. The soft, almost melodic rustling wakes him and he sits up slowly in the middle of a copse under a large tree. He reaches a hand to the back of his neck and brushes it over the top of his head, rubbing gently at his hair as the ruddy mop blows in the increasing wild wind.
Dressed in cotton peasant's clothes, Alistair stands and spins, looking around at the fields of wheat and the darkening sky above. There is no end nor beginning to the landscape. Confusion sets in. His mind reels. He remembers a woman with sage-green eyes.
"Gwen?"
The sky sends down a whirling wind that whips around him, as he searches the clearing to no avail. He looks up into the tree, seeing the whirlwind shake the branches wildly. Nearing the trunk, he stops suddenly and touches the wooden boards in reminiscence.
"My favorite tree."
Honey-brown eyes dart upwards just as a figure falls, pinning him down to the soft ground.
The entangled pair lie there for a few seconds before Alistair attempts to lift himself. "Hello? Could you—"
Gwen's voice comes muffled from his shoulder, her hair splaying over her face. "Alistair?" She raises her head to meet his eyes and cocks her head, confused. "You're full grown."
He lifts an eyebrow and grins impishly, his voice coming out as a low croon. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean by that, but I may want to."
She narrows her eyes at the man underneath her and lifts herself on all fours, balancing her body over him and staring deep into his eyes. Her eyes soften when she detects a scent lingering on him: sandalwood and orange. "Are you truly him?"
"Of course I'm me, and you… you're an extraordinary woman, Gwen." The man's voice softens and he lifts a hand to cradle her cheek, as his thumb ghosts over her parted lips. His other arm comes up to the side of her waist, guiding her down to him as his gaze fills with both desire and awe.
Aware of their position and his advance, she moves suddenly, rolling off to his side, her heart beating up into her throat. "Sorry… For falling on you… I didn't expect you to be down here."
"Who did you expect?" Oddly unfazed by her abrupt action, he stands up.
"Well, you… as a boy." She sighs, frustrated, lifting herself to stand as well. "I know it sounds ludicrous."
"No… I remember, I think. You jumped in front of me and put up a barrier to protect me from… Bear." He furrows his brow and looks around, finding the stuffed rabbit on its side by the base of the tree. Tenderly he touches it's face and tugs at one of its ears. A sad smile fades from his lips as he looks to Gwen with a somber stare.
"Was that a memory?"
"Something like that."
"Then, the Arlessa she really sent you away from your home?"
Alistair looks at her with an impassive gaze over his eyes, as if he's practiced not caring a thousand times. "Yes."
She begins to puzzle it out. "It makes sense now, what the despair demon said about your regal father. And... and then what you said on the road today about not knowing your parents. Now this."
"Gwen." He nearly pleads with her. "Let this go, I beg you."
Curiosity peaking, she reluctantly nods, respecting his wishes.
"How is this all possible?" He kneels to place the rabbit against the tree trunk.
"We must be in the Fade."
"How can you tell?"
She looks around her. "There's a feeling, an intensity in this place… I can't explain it."
"I don't feel it." Alistair shrugs, clutching his chin in thought.
"No… as a non-mage, I suppose you wouldn't. Which begs the question… are you lucid?" She steps closer and eyes him warily. Inhaling sharply, she almost pulls his scent from him again. "I don't think you're a demon, at least you smell like Alistair."
"We've already established that I'm not a demon." Angrily he walks to the edge of the copse. "I suppose I won't know if I'm aware until I wake up. What I'm more curious about is, why are we here… together?"
"These are fields surrounding Redcliffe, the castle is…" She looks around, perplexed. "The castle is missing."
"I know where we are… I just don't know why or how."
"Neither do I, but I see no reason to move. This clearing seems peaceful enough. We should wait until the dream ends."
As if by divine luck, they turn simultaneously toward a noise out in the field.
"You had to say it, didn't you?" He shakes his head, his voice rising.
Miles away they see a flash of firelight and soon flames race across the landscape in a wicked fury.
"Oh, shit. I remember this part of the nightmare... Run!" He tells her, and she springs into action, following his lead.
He runs ahead of her, checking back occasionally to make sure she's still there and unharmed.
As much as he hates the thought as it crosses his mind, the smell is of burning wheat is not unpleasant, and he imagines freshly baked bread as he bolts across the expanse. The scent causes a hunger to begin in his gut and it impairs his senses as he moves through the whipping stalks of grain.
Before long he can feel the heat growing behind him and hear the crackling of the wheat and Gwen's voice calling his name on the wind, but she's gone, nowhere to be seen.
Several feet ahead a fallen tree appears and there, Gwen stands atop it, calling out to him urgently, yet incoherently. He's going too fast and barely realizes he's at the fallen tree before he's made to leap over it, colliding roughly with her, and finding a black abyss on the other side.
.
Falling down for longer than seems possible, he hits a cold slab of stone.
A chill takes over his body and with it the realization that he's only dressed in his smallclothes. Eyelids crack to see torches lining a hallway and thick iron bars between himself and the light.
Glancing to his side, he sees another prone form next to him. A woman. Her long dark hair is cascading over her small body and she is not wearing any more clothing than he.
He was supposed to remember something about a woman, but his mind fails him and he looks to his surroundings, sighing angrily as he recognizes where he is.
"You've got to be kidding me. Here again?" He voices his irritation. "Why can't I have the dreams where beautiful women flock around me, feeding me various types of cheese and extolling my every virtue?"
He stands and turns around when he hears a groan behind him.
"Alistair?" Her voice is deep, melodic, and articulate, bordering on sharp as she speaks his name.
A small, pale, elven woman with sapphire eyes and black hair rises from the floor, placing her hand on her head in pain. "What virtues do you suppose they would praise? Your ability to prattle on nonsensically? Your talent for making a pair of unwashed socks last a full month? Or perhaps it would be your inaptitude for delivering witty one-liners."
"Ve-ry funny. You play her part very well, I might add, demon or spirit… or whatever you are."
The woman groans again and kneels back to the ground. "Play what part?"
He scoffs at her. "You demons think you're so smart, acting innocent right before you push me to the ground and choke the life from me." He crosses his arms on his chest.
"The years haven't changed you much. You're still an idiot, I see."
Alistair tilts his head and walks over to the woman, kneeling to study her eyes. He reaches out to touch her and she pulls away, batting his hand away in irritation.
"Wait... Mihna? Is that… really, really you?"
She rolls her eyes and smiles. "It's me, Alistair." They rise together.
Alistair gives her a sideways glance. "Aren't you worried I might be a demon or something?"
Through high pitched laughs she responds, "Oh, Maker, I don't think they could recreate your personality if they tried. You're too much of a fool."
"I suppose there's a compliment in there, somewhere."
From behind them in the dark of the cell, they hear a soft groan and meet each other's eyes cautiously.
Alistair speaks first. "It appears we aren't alone."
Mihna narrows her eyes and moves silently toward the noise. "Ready yourself."
With a nod, he walks beside her into the darkened space. They see the form of a woman lying on the ground, human by the look of her and in the same state of dress as the Wardens.
Rolling slowly onto her back she looks up to them with confused sage-green eyes. "Alistair…? Where are we? And who—"
Surana cuts her off. "You know her?"
Stunned and speechless, he kneels down to her, studying her eyes. "Yes, I know her, but I'm beyond confused. What is going on here?"
Mihna looks around and recognition sparks to life on her face. "We're at Fort Drakon again, at least we're dreaming about it."
"We're in the Fade. Alistair and I were just running in a field." Gwen comes back to her mind, standing up as Alistair and Surana back away. "Why are you retreating? Don't you remember?"
"I…don't, sorry. My mind is a little foggy." He shakes his head. "We can't be sure you aren't a demon."
"I'm not a demon." She states, irritated as she brushes the dirt from her body, simultaneously realizing that she's in her undergarments. Her eyes widen and she looks to her cellmates, pointing wildly. "WHY am I in my smallclothes?! Why are you both in yours?!"
Surana spares an amused glance at Alistair. "Is this your doing?"
"My doing?!" He acts defensively. "Why would this be MY doing?"
Gwen turns her back on him, but adds to the elf's theory. "Two unclothed women, locked in a prison cell with you. It does seem like a fantasy of some sort. The other dream was yours. Memories of Redcliffe, I think."
Alistair grits his teeth. "This is Fort Drakon. Mihna and I are dreaming of a memory and somehow, you got tossed into it."
Gwen chuckles uncomfortably, turning to the elf. "Mihna Surana… as in—"
Mihna presses her fingertips to her temples. "Oh please, don't say it."
"—The Hero of Ferelden?" The Inquisitor finishes meekly.
Alistair looks at Gwen with smirk, first amused by her enamored expression and then dropping the smirk, he notices her unclothed body in the light for the first time.
Clearing his throat, he looks to the ground. "I don't think she's a demon, Mihna."
"Nor do I." She moves her eyes up and down over the woman's body. "But the question still lingers: what are we all doing here?"
"And how do we get out of this cell?" Gwen adds.
Mihna cranes her neck to look down the hall. "Hmm, no guards to seduce." She examines the hinges on the door with her small hands. "Think fade hinges freeze like real ones?"
"It's worth a shot." Alistair furrows his brow. "I'm more interested in how we're together in the Fade than finding a way out at the moment."
Mihna begins casting a freezing spell on the hinges of the door. "Where are you both right now, in waking life?"
Gwen answers, watching the elf mage intently. "We're together."
"Truly?" She speaks to her fellow Warden, surprised. "Not in Orlais anymore?"
He sighs, rummaging in the filth of the cell for something to shatter the frozen hinge. "No, I'm with the Inquisition, near Orzammar. And before you ask me a hundred questions, all at once, let me say that it's a long story and I don't care to explain it all."
Surana was taken aback. "Are you with Lel then?"
"No, she's at Skyhold—" Gwen answered quietly.
"Who are you again?" Surana halts her ice spell.
"This isn't exactly how I envisioned our first meeting, but I am the Inquisitor and my name is Gwen Trevelyan." She stands taller and prouder and holds out her hand. Surana takes it gently. "As I was saying, Leliana is at Skyhold, a fortress north of the town of Haven."
The elf looks down at their cordial embrace and turns the Inquisitor's hand around, searching for the mark. "I don't see it."
"That's because it's on this hand." Gwen holds open her left palm, which sparks to life as if by will, and smirks at Alistair. "I told you, people usually ask about the mark straightaway after meeting me."
The elf takes Gwen's hand and examines it closely before dropping it carefully and turning to Alistair. "Why are you with the Inquisition instead of the Wardens?
Alistair grimaces. "I was exiled… didn't I tell you not to ask me so many questions?"
"Technically speaking, you said you didn't want me asking them all at once—which I might add, is physically impossible to do anyway. I never really listened to you before, what would make you think I'd start now?" She smirks at him, sending a final frosty blast at the hinges.
"You're still impossible, I see." He shows her a half-rotted, piece of wood. "Will this work?"
"Might." She moves aside. "Hit it hard."
He rolls his eyes and proceeds to shatter the hinges. Alistair lifts the door from the frame and tosses it aside with a clash. A chest nearby holds their belongings, as it had nearly ten years ago. Pulling out old armor and weapons, Alistair reserves his undershirt for Gwen and she sends him a grateful smile as she slips it over her head. The Wardens don their armor easily in this dream place.
Gwen pulls at the garment she wears uncomfortably. "Hopefully there won't be fighting. I'm quite under-dressed."
"Stay behind me, I'll keep you safe." Alistair runs his hands over the re-fitted breastplate, which once belonged to Warden Commander Sophia Dryden along with the rest of his showy set. "I feel completely overdressed."
"Mihna, where are you in the waking world?" He meets her eyes.
She slips on a lightly padded pair of leather boots and hums in thought. "I just began an expedition into the Deep Roads." She answers quietly, a chuckle forming under her breath.
The man freezes and panic spreads on his face. "The Calling isn't real, you know that, right?"
The elf sighs and gives him a thankful look. "I figured as much since we're all hearing it, but no, I didn't know for sure."
She then scowls at him. "I'm here on business, not to end my life in some meaningless display of 'honor'. I thought you knew me better than that, Alistair."
He huffs and turns away, walking down the hallway away from her, muttering under his breath. Gwen follows him, silently observing the interaction with keen eyes and ears.
Surana follows him quickly; her stride is long, despite her short stature, and each step down the corridor is made with purpose. She reaches her fellow Warden and pulls his arm around forcefully, so that he faces her.
"Look, I'm here with others. We found one another after the Calling started for us all. I knew there had to be more to it if we were all experiencing it at the same time and so soon after our Joining. I have business in the Deep Roads; let's leave it at that."
"You're with other Grey Wardens?" Alistair's brows furrow in thought and she nods.
His hand comes up to cradle his chin. "I'm not sure how this is happening, how we're here together, but I'm not going to mull it over now. We may have precious little time here and I'll take advantage of it."
Alistair's gaze came to hers again, fear in the depths of his honey-brown eyes. "Stay in Ferelden, away from the west. Something is happening to Grey Wardens there. I'm not sure what, but that's what I intend to investigate. I'll send you any information I find and I hope you'll do the same."
"Thank you for the warning and yes, I'll keep correspondence open. Leliana knows how to find me. As for my journey, I'm not sure how deep we'll need to go, but I'll try to keep east unless need drives us." She nods at him and turns to walk over to a heavy wooden door. "And yes, there are Wardens and others with me: Sigrun and some of the Legion, Nathaniel, and Oghren."
"Your old crew from Vigil's keep. Delightful." A sarcastic tone drips from his words.
"Such disdain." She tisks him. "I remind you that you chose not to accompany me to the Keep? These lot may be castaways, but they're mine."
"And besides," Mihna's eyes sadden, "not everyone is with me."
Alistair averts his eyes and meets Gwen's, his mind falling to Anders. Surana didn't need to know they traveled with the mage's killer.
"What are you looking for?" He asks slowly and narrows his eyes.
"Years ago, I was given a gift of knowledge, from a dear friend." She answers vaguely and with her small hand, she lifts the latch on the door.
In the next moment she meets his gaze, her expression unchanged as the sadness brings a wetness to her eyes. "It led me to believe that the taint isn't as permanent as I once believed. And so I'm searching... for a way to cure this curse, forever."
"What do you mean, 'cure it'?" His voice is guarded, cautionary and as he opens his mouth to speak again, she pulls the door and it bursts open before her. In a whirlwind, she is swept out. "Mihna!"
His attention turns to Gwen as she meets his eye and he realizes she's feeling the same terror he is. With an outstretched hand, he beckons her closer and pulls her into what he hopes is a comforting embrace. "Whatever you do, don't let go of me."
She nods, securing her arms around his waist as the corridor suddenly turns on end and the pair are sliding down the floor toward the darkened opened door, which starts to resemble a giant maw with sharp teeth.
Alistair holds one arm around the woman before him, and with the other he claws helplessly at the floor for purchase, but it's pointless: the jaws chomp down as they near it. Gwen turns her face into his chest, he brings both arms around her protectively. Mingled screams fill the Fade and the giant mouth swallows them whole. ~
…
"Holy Maker."
With his heartbeat racing and cold sweat covering his body, Alistair sat up in his shared tent. He shook his head to clear away the brain fog of just waking from a vivid, intense dream.
What a dream. He tried to make sense of it. Was it real? Was Gwen real? Was Mihna real? If, so, she's said she's trying to cure the taint. But how?
Gwen. Maker's breath, is she alright? He fumbled around in the dark for his boots.
"What is it, Alistair?" Solas sat up next to him, conjuring a globe of blue-green that illuminated their small shared tent. His expression bore concern.
Winching at the sudden light, Alistair put his hand up to his eyes to shade them. His voice was gritty from just waking and he whispered lowly. "Just… shaken from a strange dream.. I'm fine otherwise."
"I'm somewhat of an expert on travels in the Fade. I may be able to help you make sense of what you saw."
"Perhaps another time, it's still all jumbled in my head." Alistair gave the elf a thankful smile. "I need to—"
From outside the tent came a thin, trembling voice. "Alistair? Are you awake?"
"Yes."
Gwen spoke again, attempting to keep her composure. "May I come in?"
Alistair looked to Solas who nodded and stood to lift the tent flap. Silhouetted by the firelight, Gwen stood just outside, shaking as she took a few steps into the tent.
Despite just waking, Solas spoke with his usual crisp, clear voice. "Inquisitor." When he saw her pale face, his tone changed and he tilted his head in concern. "Are you well?"
She nodded, her gaze falling to the Warden, then back to Solas. "Can you give us a moment, please?"
"Of course. I'll check on Cassandra." He lowered the flap and walked away.
Alistair rose and his brow furrowed when he saw how upset she was.
Poor thing, she's terrified.
Glancing away for a moment, he made up his mind and held an arm out, summoning her to him with a simple hand motion. Gratefully, Gwen shot forward to embrace him tightly.
The man brought his arms around her and despite his own objections, ran his hand soothingly over her loose hair.
It's soft … Maker's breath, I should stop doing this to myself.
Moments later, a flurry of questions spilled out of Gwen's mouth, breaking him from his thoughts. Her arms locked around his midsection and pulled him closer. "Was that real? Did we dream… together? What happened to Mihna? Do you think she's alright?"
He closed his eyes as contentment washed over him and spoke softly. "Shh, it was a dream, nothing more. You're safe; I'm sure Mihna is safe, and will be when she wakes."
"Is this what you endure every night?" Gwen loosened her grip and looked up at him, her eyes sullen with sympathy.
She pities me, now. Wonderful.
"Not every night." Most times it's worse than that.
"I wouldn't believe it were possible, if we hadn't just experienced it… Maker, we were conscious in the Fade, Alistair. Together." She sighed, beginning to calm down, her pragmatism taking over for panic, her hands moving onto his chest to fidget with his shirt. Shortly after she realized what she was doing, her actions stopped and she pulled away.
"So it seems, though I have—"
"This shouldn't be possible." She cut him off and began to ramble, pacing the tent. I admit I'm not as learned as some in matters of the Fade. This subject has never come up in my studies."
"As I was trying to say: I have experienced something like this before… with Mihna."
"Truly?" Gwen responded, astonished. "Tell me. No, wait a moment."
She burst out the door, returning a few moments later with her journal. Alistair smiled at her fervor and quirky need to write everything down.
Maybe the writing helps her deal with… things. It could help me, perhaps.
"So, when did this happen before?" Gwen asked eagerly.
"During the Blight, at Kinloch Hold." His eyes grew intense as he surfaced the memory. "There was a Sloth demon who forced us into the Fade."
The woman scribbled furiously as he retold the story. Once she was satisfied with her notes, a weary Gwen bid Alistair goodnight and found her tent.
Alistair laid down on his bedroll, staring at the ceiling, trying to make some sense of what had happened and calming his thoughts for a return to sleep.
Clear your head… What did Mihna mean? And Gwen… what's her part in this? Did I just dream of her because she's been on my mind of late?
Solas returned to their shared tent a short while after the Inquisitor had left. He entered silently, but when he heard the Warden thrashing about, he spoke into the darkness. "May I assume by your movement, that you are yet awake?"
The Warden sighed. "I can't just lay my head down on the pillow like the rest of you. It takes time to focus on sleep, which is what I'm trying to do right now."
Solas perked his ears up and questioned him. "Gwen mentioned that you were experiencing a lapse in your usual restless sleep."
With a furrowed brow Alistair turned to the elf. "I can sleep better when she's near, it's true, though it only seems to work when we sleep… close to one another."
"How convenient for you." Solas laughed lightly, situating himself on his bedroll opposite the Warden.
Gruffly, Alistair responded. "Yes... Well, I just figured it out myself. It didn't work at Caer Bronach, so I thought that the first time in the smuggler's cave was just a chance occurrence. Though, at the Keep, I took my quarters in forward tower and hers were in the rear."
"Interesting."
"I'll have you know that it's working now, I think, even though she's a tent away. Anyway, this dream was different... not a normal Warden nightmare, so no need to worry that I'll go seeking her company after you fall asleep in order to appease my bad dreams."
With a forced nonchalance, he responded, "Our Inquisitor is capable, I'm sure she can protect herself should the need arise."
"I agree." Alistair's eyes narrowed at him in the dark and he began to rise, grabbing his pack and making his way to the tent flap. "Well, I can't sleep, so I may as well give Cassandra a break."
The mage's voice called to him and his magelight lit the tent with a sea-green glow. "Wait. I apologize for eavesdropping but, did you imply that you were lucid in your dream when you spoke with the Inquisitor?"
He turned to Solas before exiting, his brows still wrinkled. "Yes... and Gwen shared the dream with me, along with another person, I think. The memory is sort of fading."
"Dream-sharing is rare, unless…" Solas paused, his expression became pensive and he touched his chin. "Let us speak again when we reach Skyhold."
"At Skyhold then."
The elf gave a small nod and Alistair stepped out into the cold air, away from the strange elf.
After sending the Seeker to bed, his mind retreated to his dream again. As he strolled over to the canvas canopy serving as their makeshift stable he rubbed the nose of his own chocolate brown Taslin as he processed his thoughts.
Later, while sitting by the fire, he pulled out his leather-bound journal, a pen, and a small inkwell, placing them on stump next to him. An hour went by before he finished writing all he could remember from the dream and then he tucked the words away for another time and place.
xXXXx
Another day of swift travel brought the pack of sore and cranky companions to the night's camp. Between the varied conversations of her companions, the Inquisitor turned her thoughts inward to the dream from the night before. She had promised Alistair that she would not to speak of it with the others and so, she was left on her own to work the thoughts into a solid theory in her mind.
Undoubtedly, she was first in Alistair's dream. The boy proved that, as she had no foreknowledge of him when young. The second part of the dream was still a mystery and it could have been either Mihna's dream or Alistair's. The frightening thing was that all three were aware of the dream, though Alistair seemed confused about the sequence. He wasn't a mage though, and that could account for it.
Another thread of thought emerged as she ran over the memory in her head: Alistair's touch of tenderness after she fell from the tree onto him. She pushed away from him before anything could happened, but it still caused a doubt in her mind. Could he care for her as she did him? Was he so unencumbered in his dream state, that he allowed himself the freedom to touch her, perhaps even kiss her willingly? And then there was the revelation that he grew up as an orphan, never knowing his noble father. What was the mystery there and should she even devote thought to something he asked her not to pursue?
As she processed her thoughts on her ride, she withdrew from her companions, focusing on solving the puzzles. Keeping a full and steady journal, she was ready to confront Alistair with her theories once they'd reach Skyhold. Focusing on the dream kept her mind from wandering too far into the bliss of the kiss that she and Alistair shared, and for that she was eternally grateful.
.
Gwen found it best to retire as soon as dinner was served or suffer the wrath of Hawke and his vulgar ranting about the trip or his tender body parts. Ducking into her tent she found Cassandra had already bedded down for the night, but was reading with a small oil lamp next to her head.
As she rolled out her own bedroll, smiling over to her only female companion. "That must be quite the story."
With a snort and a low laugh, she responded, "You have no idea. Have you never read this?"
Gwen glanced at the cover, revealing a ruddy haired woman carrying a sword and shield. The title, incidentally read "Swords and Shields" and on the back page was a portrait of their dear Dwarven companion, surrounded by beautiful women. She rolled her eyes. "No, I haven't had the time. What is the allure?"
"Oh dear. I couldn't begin to tell you. I'll let you borrow the first book after we get back to Skyhold."
"Alright." The Inquisitor gave an unconvincing nod and began peeling her outer layers of clothing off before settling down under a thick woolen blanket.
Cassandra cleared her throat and began to speak nervously as she rolled onto her side to face Gwen. "May I ask you a personal question, Inquisitor?
She rolled over to her side, facing the warrior. "Of course, though, call me Gwen when you do. There's no sense in using that title when we're speaking casually."
"Only when we're speaking casually then… Gwen."
The mage smiled at her and waited for the question.
"Are you and Alistair…" She fumbled with the words. "Is there something between the two of you?"
"No, unfortunately." She sighed sadly, shrugging.
"But you're interested in him, and he in you?"
Gwen rolled onto her back again, lowering her tone. "To be honest, I don't know. But for the sake of consistency, we're only friends."
"But you two make a fine pairing. I think you should pursue him." The Seeker nodded and rolled onto her back as well, staring up to the shadows cast on the tent roof. "I can see that he fancies you, so something must be holding him back."
Gwen turned to Cassandra, her eyebrows lifting with amusement. "How can you tell he fancies me? You've been observing us?"
The Seeker's face reddened and she shot a worried glance at her tent mate. "No! Well, I'm always observing everything, so I suppose I was."
A few silent moments passed and she continued her interrogation of Gwen.
"I can see it in the way his eyes soften when your gazes meet, and the way he tenses when you touch him."
Gwen was unconvinced. "Couldn't that simply mean he doesn't want me to touch him?"
Cassandra shook her head and laughed softly. "No. I see the same thing on the training yards with the new recruits: they hold back for fear of their errant movements. He is holding himself back. Also, he watches you intently when you aren't paying attention."
"I don't think those things are ideal examples of his affection."
"Trust me; there is more in his heart than he is letting on."
Gwen sighed, wincing painfully at the notion.
"Please, stop me if I'm breaching a sore subject." Cassandra lifted her eyes to the roof and continued. "That man in the cave: you loved him... and lost him at the Conclave?"
"Yes." Gwen furrowed her brows in confusion.
The warrior's voice became soft. "Maker's breath. I'm... not very good at this, am I?"
"We all need to start somewhere." The mage sent her a small grin.
Cassandra began again. "I met a man, ages ago. We were from different worlds and we both knew that those worlds were dangerous to cross, but we... fell in love. He was the only man I have ever loved… and he was at the Conclave too." She lay a hand across her brow, rubbing her temples and covering her eyes.
Turning to look at Gwen wistfully, she continued. "We were such an unlikely pair, both driven and stubborn. I pray to the Maker that I will see justice for his death at the end of this. But..." She sat up slowly, placing her elbows on her knees, her hand brushing a tear across her cheek once before she turned slowly to face the mage. "To feel love again, to be given a second chance for romance in this weary world, I would not falter. You should not falter."
"I had no idea you shared my loss so exactly. I'm sorry."
"It is not something I tell many people, Gwen."
"Thank you for sharing it with me." The Inquisitor breathed deeply.
Cassandra gave her a half smile. "Thank you for listening. It feels somewhat cathartic to speak of him again."
"Would you like to tell me more about him? I'd love to hear and I'm not quite ready to sleep."
The Seeker reclined herself to lie on her back again, placing her book in her pack as she spoke with an emotional whisper. "I think I would like that very much."
…
20 Cloudsreach 9:41 Dragon
Lake Camp, After nightfall
Personal Journal
Oh, Maker. There are times when I know the right things to say to people, when my 'noble training' comes in handy, but today when Cassandra revealed to me that she was in love… with a mage… and that he died at the Conclave, I was rendered near speechless.
Her exterior is tough, solid, unbreakable, and despite our constant company, I know her the least of all my companions.
I know her movements in a fight and I trust her with my life, but personally I know barely anything.
When she spoke to me about Alistair, the desperation in her voice was saddening. I'm going to scour the countryside until I find someone worthy of her, even if it takes me an age.
We talked for a while about Galyan. I think I would have liked him. She laughed at times, but there was a layer of sadness over everything. All the more reason I should help her.
Our travels have been swift thus far. Tomorrow we move up into the high Frostbacks and will need to don more appropriate clothing. Even now the cold seeps under my blanket to chill me.
I should have given more thought to Hawke's idea of all piling into one tent… I thought he was just being lewd again, but the shared body heat would keep us all warm.
I'm tired and my words are getting sloppy.
Two more days.