CHAPTER 18

..x..

Everil watched the tower as they sailed across the lake, the moon giving it an eerie glow. Right now, the Templars were fighting what was left of the demons inside it, cleansing it from evil while hopefully saving any who survived. She shifted her gaze towards the approaching shore, a troubling thought coming to her mind. The relationship between the mages and the Chantry was truly unstable. If the mages here had tried to rebel once, then it was possible others in other Circles of Magi over Thedas thought to do the same one day.

You can only oppress someone for so long before they turn against you, Everil thought to herself, recalling the desperation in the blood mage's eyes before she ended her life. It was only a matter of time before the mages sought to free themselves from their shackles. And when that time comes, even the Chantry with all its Templars will be unable to stop them.

As they stepped off the small boat, Leliana ran up to them, relieved to see them. "Thank the Maker. You were all gone for so long, I feared the worst!"

"You should know by now that nothing's ever easy for us," Everil smirked wearily, then noticed a certain giant was missing. "Where's Sten?"

Leliana shook her head. "He was trying to find his sword—the one he arrived with when he came to Ferelden. Apparently, he lost it here in Lake Calenhad. I tried to help him, but he just walked off on me."

"Please do not tell me we are about to set off on a hunt for the lost qunari after what we just went through," Morrigan uttered wearily.

"All right… Let's split up and search for him. We have to find him fast and head back to Redcliffe," Everil told them, sternly addressing the group.

The witch sighed. "Marvelous…"

They split into two groups, with Everil, Bjorn, and Morrigan going one way, and Alistair and Leliana going the other. They entered the woods by the lake, the light of the full moon filtering through the canopy of the trees and providing them with much-needed light. Everil pushed aside the foliage blocking their path, stepping through it as she called out the qunari's name, growing increasingly frustrated thanks to both hunger and exhaustion. The woman behind her was likely feeling the same, as she irritably slapped wandering branches out of the way.

"If the qunari ran off on his own, we should have just let him be," the witch muttered moodily, searching through their surroundings.

"No. He was imprisoned in Lothering for a reason. I don't know why just yet, but he's still my responsibility."

"You seem to do that often."

"Do what?" Everil drew her blade and slashed through another bush.

"Take responsibility for inconsequential matters," Morrigan said in annoyance. "Are you not a Grey Warden? Should you not be more concerned over the Blight than a wandering prisoner?"

"Sten promised to help us. I would say that falls under the 'concerned over the Blight' category," Everil replied, sending a brief glance her way before calling out his name again.

Morrigan shook her head hopelessly, following her while silently wondering why she hadn't just stayed behind to wait for them. There was silence between them as they walked, interrupted only by her yelling of the qunari's name. The Warden once again glanced over her shoulder at her, noticing how her cat-like eyes glowed in the shadows. She wondered if the woman was really human, or if something more lay underneath that beautiful facade. Was she really birthed by Flemeth? Was she maybe a demon too?

"Say Morrigan…" Everil began, looking over at the witch as curiosity finally got the best of her. "Is Flemeth really what she seems to be?"

She raised a brow at the odd question. "That depends… What does she seem to be?"

Everil paused to think for a moment, then responded honestly. "A nutty old bat."

Morrigan let out a small laugh at her choice of words. "You know, I often wondered this myself." She sighed, smiling a little at her. "Tell me… Have you heard the tales they say of my mother? Those legends the Chasind tell their children to scare them into obedience."

"I have heard some, yes. But I'm more interested in the truth."

"I could tell you both the legend and what Flemeth once told me. Then you may decide which one is true. What say you?"

"That sounds like an interesting idea. Go on."

Morrigan nodded, walking next to her as they continued to search for their missing companion. "As the legend is sung by the bards... It is said that Flemeth was once a young and fair maiden in a land filled with barbaric men—the desire of all who saw her. She was the bride of a powerful lord by the name of Conobar, who ruled over these very lands before they were even called Ferelden."

"One day, a bard by the name of Osen arrived at the castle. Osen and Flemeth fell in love at first sight, and when the fair maiden tried to run away with her lover, Lord Conobar unleashed his ire upon them, killing Osen and locking his bride away in a tower. In her anguish, Flemeth summoned a demon, bringing forth the death of her husband and his people."

Everil frowned at her. "Was that the truth?"

She shot her a disapproving look. "I am not finished."

"Sorry…" She closed her mouth and continued on, listening to her talk.

"The truth is 'twas Osen who was Flemeth's husband, and Conobar the jealous lord who looked on from afar. Conobar made a deal with Osen, promising him coin and land in exchange for his lovely wife. They were poor folk, with barely any coin to eat, so Osen agreed."

"That sounds like a fair deal," Everil said.

"Indeed. Or so t'would have been, had Conobar kept his end of the bargain," she uttered with distaste. "Soon after the deal, Osen was taken to a field and killed in cold blood. Flemeth later learned of the deed from spirits of the Fade and swore revenge."

"Was that when she summoned the demon?"

She shook her head. "No…'twas the spirits who helped her kill Conobar and his men. She did not resort to the demon until… much later. She was chased by his allies, you see, deep into the Wilds. There she met the demon. There she became one with it and it made her strong." Morrigan smirked, almost proud of her mother's resilience and power. "She killed everyone who challenged her, and there she remained in hiding until eventually, she became part of the Wilds, and the Wilds became part of her."

"She must be… formidable," Everil muttered with a pause, swallowing uncomfortably.

"She is, but she is no immortal. A blade to her heart would kill her just as any other, were it lucky enough to find her."

Everil looked inquisitively at the witch. "Do you believe her side of the story?"

"I do not believe everything my mother says. Often I feel her bitterness has colored her memories," Morrigan said, almost wistfully. "But I do believe her on this, at least."

"I thought abominations were usually insane horrors. You saw them at the Circle… Can they even reproduce?"

"The key within your words is this 'usually'. How often is this? Always?" Morrigan stepped over a root and then gazed at her. "I do not know if Flemeth gave birth to me, but she has always treated me as her own flesh and blood. I never questioned this. Yet regardless of the truth, the fact is that there is much in this world you or I will never understand."

"That's true," Everil sighed, glancing her way. "Thank you for telling me the story, Morrigan. I found it interesting."

The witch chuckled. "You are welcome. Though my mother tells it with far more embellishment than I."

A distant cry then alerted them, making them look in its direction. Bjorn growled and ran, charging towards it and leaving the women behind.

"Bjorn, wait!" Everil called and went after him as Morrigan followed behind her.

They trailed the hound until they arrived at a small clearing, the dog stopping to bark at the two people standing within it. Sten was holding a man by his throat, effortlessly lifting him off the ground with one arm. His intense eyes glared coldly at him. "You dare defile their corpses."

The man squirmed, struggling to breathe. "N-No…! I was only grabbing what I found. I ain't trying to hurt anything!"

"Lies!" Sten drew the man closer and snarled at him. "You took their weapons and armor! And you took my sword!"

"Sten!"

He turned his cold glare towards Everil. "You."

"Yes, me," she replied with a scowl, stalking towards him. "Drop him. Now."

Sten raised his strong chin, staring her down. "He stole what belonged to my brothers and I. He deserves death."

Everil placed her hands on her hips, unfazed by his defying stance. "If you put him down I promise I will help you get back what he stole."

The qunari's gaze was locked to hers for a moment, the silence stretching between them. He begrudgingly lowered the cowering man and released his hold on him. The scavenger fell on his rear, a wet stain between his legs as he dragged himself away from the giant.

"Good." She crossed her arms."Now, explain to me why you ran off and why you were trying to kill this man."

"This is where my brothers and I were attacked by darkspawn. They came out of the ground, killed them, and nearly killed me," he said with irritation, trying to restrain his anger. "I… lost my sword here while in battle. Without it I cannot return to my people."

"Why is this?"

He let out a frustrated sigh. "The qunari are born into their professions. We do not choose our paths… as you humans claim you do. I was chosen to wield the sword, and was given the task to be the vanguard of my people. A member of the Beresaad. We came to seek information on the Blight, to prepare against it." Sten shook his head and glared at the ground, his large hands closing into fists. "But if I were to return as I am now, I would be killed on the spot. Without my sword I would be considered a traitor. A warrior without a soul."

"I think I understand," she said, then shifted her gaze to the man still sitting on the ground with qunari corpses lying around him. "Start talking. Where are the items you took from these men?"

He gulped. "I sold them to a dwarf in Redcliffe…H-He offered a great deal of coin for them."

"A dwarf in Redcliffe? Was his name Dwyn?"

He nervously nodded.

She turned to Sten. "I know him. I'll take you to him and we'll take back what is yours."

The qunari gave her a silent nod of his head, his expression stoic.

Everil then eyed the cowering man on the ground. She couldn't exactly blame him for looting, she and her party did it more than once in order to get things they needed for their travels. But this seemed important to Sten, and he already had a hard time trusting her and her other companions. She needed to earn some of his respect to maybe get through that thick shell of his.

Everil took a few steps towards the scavenger before lowering herself to his eye level, her expression severe. "I want you to leave everything you stole here today, and tell no one of these men's resting place. Do you understand me?"

"Y-Yes, my lady."

She gave him a tiny grin. "Good. You are free to go."

He scrambled to get up, dropped a bag full of items he had collected, and ran to the edge of the forest, disappearing behind the thicket. Everil rose to her feet, then reverted her attention to Sten. "Do you want to bury their remains? I cannot guarantee that others won't find them otherwise."

"No. We can leave them as they are… I was enraged by the absence of my blade. My brothers will no longer need theirs. Their souls have already crossed to the Land of the Dead."

"Very well." Everil began to walk, gesturing for him to follow. "Let's go then. We can try to get your sword back after we have handled things in Redcliffe."

Sten watched her head back the way she came, followed by the witch and the dog. He looked down towards his fallen comrades, their stares vacant while the scent of death permeated the air. They died valiantly in service to their kin, killed by the very enemy they were to study and prepare for.

At least he still lived. At least he was fighting those they fell prey to. He turned to the retreating back of the small woman he promised to follow and his right hand closed into a fist as he went after her with renewed determination. He had her to thank for both a second chance at life, and for the opportunity to take revenge on the creatures of the deep that killed his friends.

.x.x.x.x.

They left Lake Calenhad to seek out a good place to camp after having battled for so many hours in the tower. In moments, they set up their tents, the land still shrouded in relative darkness. The relaxing sound of a running creek filled the quiet of the woods, which they used to wash off the blood, dirt, and grime.

After eating some of their provisions, the group retired to their tents, intent on sleeping the rest of the night away. Leliana took the night guard, one she would switch with Sten later on. She quietly sat by the fire, looking at the flames as they flickered. It was becoming more and more comforting to spend time around these people she barely knew. Both Grey Wardens had been welcoming of her, always ensuring she and the others were relatively comfortable with their limited resources.

Movement nearby made her turn her head to see Alistair emerging from his tent. He groggily rubbed his eyes and began walking towards her, his armor reflecting the light of the flames. He came to stand by the fire, seeking its warmth.

Leliana frowned, seeing the weariness on his face. "I thought you were to sleep until morning."

A sigh escaped him as he reached out to warm his hands. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep with all the nightmares."

She gave him a sympathetic look. "Grey Wardens have such a burden to carry and see so much death… All of that must be a strain on your minds."

"Yeah…" he chuckled wryly. "If only that were the only reason…"

"There is another?"

"Yep." He smiled tiredly. "We have frequent nightmares because of our connection to the darkspawn, and they are much worse during a Blight."

"I see…" Her brow furrowed. "It must be disconcerting."

"Yeah… It is."

The two of them enjoyed the comfortable silence that followed for a moment, the only sounds those of the night animals and the popping of the coals. Until she spoke again. "What happened at the Circle of Magi?" She tilted her head, the red strands of short hair framing her beautiful face. "You all returned covered in blood."

Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, the memories not exactly helping his already tired mind. "Well... as usual, we ended up having to save everyone from impending doom. In this case, we battled abominations, blood mages…" He paused and then lifted a finger in mock realization. "Oh! And you can throw demons into the mix too. Those were fun."

A hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, staring at him in shock. "The Maker himself must have shielded you…!"

He let out a weak laugh. "I don't know if the Maker had a hand in it, but if it hadn't been for Everil we probably wouldn't be here now."

"I wish I would have been able to come along," Leliana said regretfully.

"Yes, we could have used your help." He shrugged and smiled reassuringly at her. "But it all worked out, no need to feel bad about it. It wasn't like you refused to go."

"I know… Maybe I can help again next time?"

His lips spread into a humorless grin. "Yes, I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities ahead."

The flapping sound of another tent made them look in its direction. They saw Everil emerge from it, her hound in toe and weapons at her hips. She glanced their way with a worn-out expression, and instead of joining them, turned, and headed towards the edge of the woods.

"It seems she couldn't sleep either," Leliana commented sadly before poking at the hot coals with a stick.

"Yeah…" Alistair sent her retreating form a concerned look as she went towards the creek, disappearing behind the foliage.

.x.x.x.x.

Everil slashed at the air with her blades and swung a leg into a high kick, while her hound watched as he lay nearby. She pivoted on one foot and slashed again, imagining the enemy before her. That night, her nightmares had not been just about darkspawn. Her father's twisted sneer still haunted her, along with that of the rest of her family. She felt guilty for leaving them behind as the castle fell. Felt shame at not having been able to protect and save them. And felt rage towards the one responsible for it all.

Curse you, Howe! Everil slashed again as a cry escaped her. One filled with all the anger and misery inside her. "Damn it…" she bit out and stopped, arms dropping to her sides as a frustrated breath escaped her. Sheathing her weapons, Everil walked up to a fallen tree trunk by the stream and sat on it with a huff, her heart a raging storm of emotions.

The Warden bit down on her quivering lip, fighting back the bitter tears that threatened to spill out of her. Her iron grip kept them in check as she refused to mourn her family. And after a few more intakes of air, Everil found herself trying to use the sound of the running water to calm her troubled soul. She silently marveled at the shimmering moonlight reflecting over the surface, almost in a daze as her mind drifted away into blankness.

The sound of footsteps approaching her from behind interrupted the quiet, but Bjorn's calm demeanor told her they belonged to a friend. Whoever it was stopped beside her and then something red suddenly blocked her view, causing her eyebrows to shoot up in surprise.

"Do you know what this is?"

Everil felt a smile tug on her lips and gazed up to see Alistair taking a seat beside her. He was still holding the rose in his hand, offering it to her. "Let me guess…" she answered, gingerly taking the flower while smirking at him. "Your new weapon of choice?"

"Yes," he chortled, a goofy grin spreading over his face. Jumping to his feet he swooshed a pretend weapon in the air, slashing around as he spoke in a heroic tone. "Fear me darkspawn! I shall smite your ugly mugs with the incredibly destructive power of flower arrangements! Beware the thorns!"

Everil couldn't help the chuckle that escaped her, amused by his comedic antics.

His expression softened, the sound of her laughter like music to his ears. He sat back down and casually leaned forward, resting his forearm on one leg and a hand on the other as he faced her. "Or… It could just be a rose. A simple rose. Although I know it's not as exciting."

"Are you... giving it to me? To keep it?" She blinked, a little unsure.

"Yep! It's a gift." Alistair tilted his head with a small, bashful grin.

"Oh…" A blush stained her cheeks as she observed the flower, admiring the gorgeous crimson of the petals. "It's beautiful... Thank you," she murmured, her heart fluttering at the gesture.

"I, uhm…" Alistair cleared his throat nervously while leaning back. "When I picked it up on our way here, I thought to myself, 'How can something so beautiful exist in the middle of all this ugliness and despair?'" He shook his head, casting his gaze to the ground. "I couldn't leave it behind. The Blight would have eventually destroyed it. So I took it with me…" A snide chuckle left him as he laughed at himself. "I suppose it was kind of stupid, now that I think about it."

"Oh, that's not true. Sentiment is a powerful thing… such things should be protected…" Everil replied dreamily, caressing the petals. She was tempted to take off her gloves, wanting to feel the soft, velvety things against her fingertips

"I'm glad you like it…" Alistair murmured, intently watching her profile. Her skin was a little flushed from her sparring as the moon shone over her, nearly making her glow while her lips still formed a smile. "You know…" He edged closer and carefully took her hand in his, drawing her attention back to him. "In a lot of ways. I think the same thing when I look at you."

"The same as the flower…?" Everil whispered, the tenderness in his stare completely disarming her.

"Yes…" He leaned in, gazing into her sky-blue pools, his heart pounding like a beating drum as he spoke through the nerves. "When I look at you, I see a ray of sunshine glowing brightly in the middle of the darkness. A bit of… hope and beauty still blooming in spite of the Blight slowly withering away the world around it. Like that rose."

It was as though a flurry of butterflies invaded her stomach. The emotion in his eyes, the awkwardness in his nervous voice, the gentle way he held her hand in his—they told her he truly meant the words he spoke. No one had ever said anything so sweet to her before, not even the young nobles that often crowded her during her father's parties.

Everil smiled tenderly at him. "Thank you, Alistair… That's a very lovely thought."

"Heh…" He grinned sheepishly. "I'm glad you think so. I'm not as good with words as I think I am sometimes."

"You did just fine," she sighed happily and dared to rest her head on his shoulder, observing the flower as her fingers continued to play with the petals.

"I was hoping that would cheer you up. I noticed something's been bothering you since we left the Circle." He shyly rubbed the side of his neck, then regarded her with concern. "Do you... want to talk about it?"

She took a deep breath and released it. Her chest felt so tight again. So heavy. "I suppose… I'm having a hard time dealing with the nightmare Sloth forced upon me."

He frowned. "What was it about?"

"My family…"

"Oh…"

"It just…" Everil sighed miserably. She normally disliked showing weakness to others, yet felt comfortable dropping her defenses around him. "I dreamed of them tonight too. It made me feel... very lonely."

"I understand…" He smiled sadly at her. "But just as you told me before, you have me. It may not be the same as having your family back… and I know we haven't known each other for that long, but I promise you can still lean on me like this any time. I'll be here to listen whenever you need to talk. Or if you need someone to pick you up." He chuckled and patted her knee gently. "After all, you've already picked my sorry arse up more than once."

His words nearly brought her to tears, sparking a tiny flame that filled her chest with its warmth. Everything she loved was lost, but she was grateful to have at least gained something since this all began. She had someone like him. A friend she could rely on and who clearly cared about her. Someone who had her back in this war against all odds. A man who would swoop in and rescue her from her demons when she needed him the most.

"Like in a fairy tale…"

"Hm?" Alistair gazed curiously at her.

She chuckled playfully and grinned. "You're like out of a fairytale, Alistair. You're not only a prince but a knight in shining armor. I'm one lucky girl."

He laughed lightly. "Wow... Most women I knew just rolled their eyes at me and called me corny."

"Well, I'm not 'most women'."

"No…" He gave her a half-smile. "No, you're not."

A comfortable silence soon followed, filled only by the sound of the creek and the gentle breeze rustling the branches around them. They watched the water roll over the rocks, listening to its calming melody. For a moment it all felt like they were on a different plane. In a small island of peace at the center of a storm.

Everil closed her eyes and just let the moment fill her, enjoying every second of it. She took in his masculine scent, picking up hints of grass, dirt, and leather. Felt his body's warmth next to her, close and comforting. But despite the serenity on the outside, her pulse was racing on her inside, joined by a strange, tingling sensation at the pit of her stomach.

Temptation urged her to touch him, to seize his lips with hers and let him hold her in his arms. These feelings were the same she had towards Gilmore some time ago when their relationship had evolved into something much less innocent. She anxiously wore her bottom lip. If she was indeed falling for him, would she be willing to act on it? The two of them had a purpose that was greater than them. A task that could afford no distractions.

And did he even feel the same desire she held for him? The same yearning. What if there was a lover she didn't know about? He was in a monastery for most of his life, but that didn't mean there wasn't someone waiting for him. He may yet have a woman, left behind upon being recruited by Duncan. There hadn't been anything of the sort in his dream in the Fade, but there was no guarantee that wasn't the case. So she wanted to know.

I need to know… Everil anxiously licked her lips and willed herself to ask. "Hey, Alistair…"

"Yes?"

"While you were at the monastery… did you ever..." she trailed off, her courage faltering.

Alistair raised an inquisitive brow at her. "Did I ever… What?"

"Did you ever have…" She cleared her throat, feeling incredibly awkward before blurting out, "Have sex with anyone?"

He blinked in bewilderment at the blunt question, embarrassment burning his ears. "W-Where on Thedas did that come from?"

"S-Sorry…" Everil uttered, sitting up and bashfully turning away.

Her disappointed look told him the inquiry hadn't been a joke. That her curiosity was genuine. Alistair wondered why she cared to know such a thing, but regardless of the reason, he figured it wouldn't do any harm to oblige. "It's fine… I just… Never had a woman just come out and ask me like that." He scratched the back of his head, attempting to put the words together in a tasteful way. "I, uh… No. I never had the… pleasure. Not that I never thought about it."

An odd sense of relief filled her and she pressed further. "So… There isn't a heartbroken nun or a pretty Templar waiting for you back at the Chantry?"

Alistair chuckled. "No. They were too busy hating me."

The realization hit her then, her eyes widening a fraction as she repeated his answers in her mind. Their meaning was both thrilling and endearing, prompting a playful grin that slowly spread over her lips. "Oh, that's so cute... You're a virgin!"

"Cute...?" He echoed, unsure about whether to feel insulted or flattered by her choice of words. "Huh… I guess I should feel lucky it's you saying that."

Everil laughed lightly at his flustered expression, feeling a little guilty at having placed him on the spot. "I'm sorry… I suppose it would be fair if I told you my secret too."

"Oh?" He gave her an expectant look. "And what's that?"

She glanced at the rose, slowly twirling it. "I am also chaste."

Alistair seemed to pause as his brain registered, his heart beating in his ears. So she'd never been touched by a man in that way. None have seen her body, felt her skin beneath their fingers or pleased her until the break of dawn. And he couldn't ignore the part of him wondering what it would be like to be the first. He gulped, forcing the dirty thoughts out of his mind. "R-Really? I… I thought you and Ser Gilmore…"

"No…" Everil's bangs swayed as she mournfully shook her head. "He and I shared some moments, but they never went far. He made it clear that I was his lord's daughter and that our worlds were too far apart for us to be together." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and released a soft breath. "I did care for him... and he obviously still cared for me. But romantic love was no longer a factor in our relationship when he... died."

A hint of regret filled his voice. "I see… I'm sorry I brought that up again."

"It's all right… It was a fair question." She gave him a reassuring pat on the leg before rising to her feet. "At any rate... We should go try to get some sleep. We need what little rest we can get for tomorrow."

"I agree," he replied as he stood. Sleep was something he always dreaded now, but they had another long day of walking ahead of them. It would do them no good to fall to exhaustion. A jawn escaped him then, one that made his eyes water. "Ah… Guess it won't be too har—"

A hand on his chest and a kiss on the cheek interrupted his mumble, drawing a surprised look from him.

"Thank you again for the beautiful rose, Alistair…" Everil murmured, lingering close to him as she gazed into his eyes. "Good night."

"Good night…" he breathed out numbly, frozen on the spot as she spun around and stepped away, followed closely by her hound. His gaze shamelessly trailed over her retreating form, descending to her backside and taking in the subtle sway of her hips with each step she took.

Maker's breath… he thought breathlessly, immediately wondering what it would be like to see her without that armor. To touch her. To feel her naked body against his. And he swallowed thickly when the impure thoughts caused his temperature to rise. Damn it, Alistair… So much for sleep now… He blew out an annoyed huff, trekking stiffly through the woods in the same direction she went.