CHAPTER 21
..x..
Darkness slowly faded to light as Morrigan began to wake, her stay in the Fade having been extended by her dreams. She scrunched up her face and placed a hand to her forehead, trying to appease the dull ache. A groan escaped her and she slowly sat up on the bed, blinking her eyes to adjust to the brightness coming from the window beside her. She looked around, finding herself in a stranger's room, the memories slowly coming back to her.
"Damn that creature…" she cursed the demon in the child's dream, her spirit still sore from battle. Still, she felt proud to have been able to defeat it with only her skills and wits to help her.
The sound of a door opening pulled her gaze in its direction as Leliana walked in. "I'm glad to see you have awakened," she smiled, bringing in a small tray of wine, cheese, and bread. "I took the liberty of fetching you something to eat. I imagine you are hungry now, no?"
Morrigan gave her an awkward look but slowly nodded, taking the tray from her. "My thanks."
"You gave us all a scare. It appears Wynne was right, however, you seem to be doing well."
"'Twas nothing. Entering the Fade in such a way is simply draining." She took a sip of wine and made a face, her nose curling. Water was used for drinking and cooking in the Wilds. They didn't have access to wheat for the ale or the grapes for the wine that Fereldan folk drank in its stead. Thankfully, her mother knew a few tricks to purify the water from parasites and other unwanted things that would cause disease. "Where are the others?"
"Alistair came by to tell us we would be spending the night here and head to Denerim in the morning. He also said Everil had gone to the village to run an errand, and that Sten and Bjorn were likely with her."
She must be helping the qunari find his sword, Morrigan thought to herself, popping a piece of cheese into her mouth.
"Also, Wynne will be joining us from now on."
She lifted her eyebrows. "That insufferable hag from the Circle?"
"Uh…Yes," Leliana replied uncomfortably. "She came to check on you earlier, then said she would be in one of the rooms resting."
"I see." The witch ate another piece of cheese, still groggy from sleep. Leliana watched her in silence, her stare slightly unnerving her.
"I'm fine now. There is no need for you to be here any longer," Morrigan said coolly, her gaze still on her food.
"Oh, sorry." The other woman shifted, absently playing with her fingers. "I uh…will be next door if you need anything."
Morrigan didn't answer, sighing with relief upon hearing her leave. She placed the tray down on the bed and swung her legs over the edge to walk up to her bag. She rummaged through it, gingerly pulling out the leather-bound book. A slender finger traced the tree pattern over the cover, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Now alone, she could begin discovering her mother's secrets.
.x.x.x.x.
Leliana entered her room, releasing a breath. Why she had expected any amount of conversation from her strange companion, she didn't know. Though she wasn't one to talk to a lot of people herself. Those in the Chantry hardly spoke with her, except for when they chose to question her views on its teachings.
"What do you mean the Maker loves all?" one nun had asked her during their daily cleaning of the altar room.
Leliana gazed at her with a small smile, a broom in her hands. "I believe the Maker has love for all of His creation. Regardless of where His children come from. Else, why would He offer forgiveness to those who seek it?"
The sister gave her a cynical look. "The Maker's love is to be earned by His children. You and I, for example, Sister Leliana. We are giving ourselves to Him by serving Him as we are. Because of this, His eyes will be upon us for our commitment, and He will love us. Those people outside of the Chantry… They come to seek His forgiveness and His help only when their need is dire. It is not a sincere act of adoration. They are not as virtuous as us."
"I… don't believe so. I believe His love for us is much greater than that. He would not demand more than what we can give."
"You are quite naive. We're here to save their souls for that very reason. We are the recipients of His grace in order to give to the lesser children." She looked up at the statue of Andraste with a prideful smile. "You and I, Sister. We are chosen."
Leliana put her hand over her pendant of Andraste, her lips pursed. That same nun had refused to speak with her for days after. But she believed the same now still. If she hadn't believed in that, then she wouldn't have been saved by Him. Saved from herself.
.x.x.x.x.
Night fell, shrouding everything in its veil of darkness. Torches and candles lined the halls, their lights flickering against the walls. Thankfully, there were no longer shadows of the undead shuffling about. No demons whispering in the dark. The blood had been cleaned by the maids and lavender placed in every corner to mask any remaining foul scents as the castle aired out. As if the prior nightmare never happened.
Sten had picked a room to sleep in, leaving her to check on Morrigan with her dog. Everil approached the door and knocked. "Morrigan?"
"Enter," she yelled from the other side.
She went in to find the witch sitting cross-legged on the bed, her mother's book lying open over her lap. Morrigan sent her an annoyed look but gestured for her to sit on the chair beside her.
"I see you're feeling well…" Everil pointed, a question in her tone as she approached.
Morrigan nodded. "Yes. 'Twas nothing rest could not fix."
"Good." She sat and swung one leg over the other, crossing her arms while Bjorn sat next to her. "Anything interesting in that book yet?"
"So far I have only seen recipes for potions and a few spells I already knew. But I am just beginning to read it," she replied, licking her thumb before flipping a page. "So… did the foolish child live? Were my efforts worthwhile?"
"Yes. The child lives, and so does his father. Unfortunately, Arl Eamon is still asleep and the Circle mages were unable to wake him. That means we have to seek out a new solution."
"Of course…" Morrigan rolled her eyes, then glanced at her curiously. "I take it you have one in mind?"
"Possibly." Everil smiled wryly. "Would that book have an answer, by any chance?"
"No. My mother mostly focused on her own survival. I doubt she would ever bother with a cure for a comatose nobleman."
"Heh, I figured as much." She grinned at her and watched her flip through another page as her cat eyes sifted through the words. "Morrigan… Thanks for helping me save Redcliffe."
The witch gazed up from the book, elegant brows wrinkled into a frown. "You are welcome. Though I did not do it for them, nor for the child. I did it for you. I could care no less about their sort."
"I know… Does that mean you care about me, at least?"
"You give yourself too much credit, Warden."
Everil chuckled as she returned to the book and then a brief silence fell between them. She figured they were growing to be friends, but it seemed the woman was always guarded. Like a defense mechanism to keep unwanted people at bay. Always lashing out or denigrating them to push them away. She wondered why this was so, but considering her origins, it made sense for her to be wary of everyone around her—friend or foe.
"I have a question for you, Morrigan."
"I am hardly surprised."
She ignored her snide retort. "Was it lonely to live in the Wilds with just your mother? Did you have anyone else to talk to?"
Morrigan put on an amused smile and shook her head. The woman sure enjoyed discussing her way of life as if it were the most interesting thing. It was entertaining to see the wonder on her face when she heard of her mother's magic and the Wilds. She leaned back, resting both hands on the bed while gazing at the ceiling. "I suppose 'twas lonely at times..." she admitted. "Though I oft found ways to make up for it. I did not need the company of others to experience friendship, for example."
Everil tilted her head. "Truly? Why?"
"Children have imagination… Anything is fun when you are innocent and carefree. I thought of the trees as my friends, ran with the animals as my playmates, and spoke to the wind as it howled in my ear," she told the Warden, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "'Twas not a terrible childhood."
"That does sound wonderful…" She pictured a small Morrigan prancing in the woods and smiled a little, a bit of sadness in her eyes. "I wish I would have had such an experience. My childhood was mostly filled with boring banquets, annoying pleasantries, politics… Though I understand why it had to be so, it wasn't always fun for me. A lot of rules to follow. Many of which I didn't understand then."
"Oh, my mother had her fair share of rules for me, as well. I was not raised doing as I pleased."
"Did you ever break those rules?"
"I did…" She sat up, letting out a chuckle. "One time… I was sneaking through the Wilds and making my way towards the edge of the forest, where I had spotted a traveling carriage passing by. 'Twas an elegant carriage, with floral engravings and beautiful white horses. It had stopped for camp when I caught up with it." Her hands moved to emphasize her story. "Inside the carriage was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. With golden locks that shimmered under the setting sun, and porcelain skin that glowed like polished pearls. In her hand, she had a beautiful golden mirror, with colorful gems encrusted around it. I was captivated by it… and thought that perhaps if I had that mirror, I could be as elegant and beautiful as the woman in the carriage."
"So… As I am a shapeshifter, I changed into the form of a cat and waited for the woman to be distracted. I snuck up behind her and stole the mirror before she could see me. I ran back to my hut, and to my mother, hugging it to my chest with delight."
Everil chortled at the picture. "I can't imagine Flemeth was pleased."
"No…" Morrigan sighed. "My mother was furious... To teach me a lesson, she took the mirror from my hands and smashed it against the ground. I was heartbroken."
"But… you were just a child."
"'Tis because I was a child that I needed to learn my lesson. I had risked discovery, and therefore my life, over a pretty bauble. I allowed a foolish sentiment to rule over my judgment when such things have no real value. My mother always told me sentimentalism was useless. As crippling as an arrow to the foot in the middle of a battle." Morrigan leaned forward, resting her chin on one hand while gazing at her. "Were it not for Flemeth's lessons then, I would not be here now. As difficult as they were."
"I suppose that's true. They made you stronger," Everil said with a smile. "Though I personally believe sentiment can be a driving force, rather than an anchor."
"Oh?" She raised a brow. "Those are rather disappointing words to hear from a Grey Warden."
"What? Why?"
"Your duty is to defeat the Blight at any cost. And all Grey Wardens of the past placed their duty above all else, some of their actions bordering on the barbaric in order to defeat the darkspawn. I hope you will do as they did and take whatever actions are necessary, rather than allow useless feelings to get in the way when the time comes."
Everil stared at her for a moment, not really knowing what to say. She wanted to save Ferelden but didn't want to give up her humanity to do it. However, she took an oath when she joined the order. It was her responsibility to ensure the Blight was defeated, no matter the cost. She found herself hoping things wouldn't come to choosing between morality and the Blight. But hope could only reach so far.
She took notice of her pause. "I see my words have left you speechless. Is your resolve wavering?"
"Of course not. You're right. My duty is more important than anything else… I just…" she sighed, rising to her feet. She was too tired for this conversation."Thank you for the chat. I should probably leave you to your book now."
Morrigan nodded. "Yes, please do."
"Come on, Bjorn." She summoned her hound, then waved at her, walking to the door. "Good night, Morrigan."
The witch didn't respond, instead eyeing Everil as she left the chamber. And then a smirk spread over her features. Such an interesting creature...
.x.x.x.x.
Everil and her hound crossed the hallway to her chosen room and stepped inside, closing the door with a breath of relief. She proceeded to drop her weapons off by the bed, along with her side bag and quiver. It was dark, but the moon shone bright enough through the window to reveal some of the space within. It was simple, with a single bed and a desk, while some common Fereldan decor such as fur rugs and paintings decorated the place.
She shuffled to the nightstand and lit the large candle resting on it. A content sigh left her when she let herself fall back upon the mattress, her body beginning to cave into exhaustion. The hound jumped on the bed with her, nuzzling her hair and giving her cheek a gentle lick. The Warden chuckled and petted him, prompting him to curl up next to her with his head on her stomach.
It had been several long days of travel and constant fighting, and there were no doubt similar days waiting for them ahead. She began to think about what they accomplished thus far, staring up at the ceiling. The fate of the nation rested over their shoulders, and they were still a thousand miles away from having what they needed to put an end to the Blight. Many more towns like Lothering would probably fall prey to it by the time they gathered the support to face it head-on.
Lothering… The sight of darkspawn indiscriminately slaughtering innocents haunted her. The screams and cries for help from the villagers in her ears. Their panic to escape palpable in her mind. It was nearly overwhelming to think about how many were likely dying as she lay on that bed. And she wondered just how much time they truly had before the taint enveloped all of Ferelden.
"Maker... I hope we can do this," she murmured to herself. Doubt filled her, and Morrigan's words made her question if she had what was necessary to accomplish their impossible task. If she possessed the same unwavering commitment Duncan carried when they met.
Everil closed her eyes, her mind filled with uncertainty. Mother, Father… I wish you were here to guide me…
And then a soft knock was heard, interrupting her troubled thoughts.
She sat up with a groan, weary muscles protesting after having had the brief opportunity to finally rest.
"Just a moment…" she called while pushing herself to stand. Her feet shuffled to the door and she rotated her shoulders before reaching for the handle. When she opened it, a smiling Alistair was standing behind it, casually resting an arm on the frame and a fist at his hip.
"Hey, so you are back," he greeted cheerfully.
"Yes, I am." She tiredly returned his smile. "Why? Were you waiting expectantly for my return?"
"Maybe a little," he teased. "I told one of the guards to let me know when you came back to the castle. May I come in? Grey Warden business."
"Of course."
"Thank you," he chirped, entering the room.
"I thought you were still with Bann Teagan." Everil shut the door and turned to face him. "Whatever it was he wanted to speak with you about sounded truly important."
"He just wanted to discuss Ferelden's situation with me," Alistair replied, folding his arms. "Here's the first piece of good news… Ready?"
She mimicked his pose. "Shoot."
"Loghain knows we're alive and has placed a bounty on our heads." He grinned sarcastically. "Don't you feel special?"
"Yes... How nice of him," Everil uttered helplessly, already annoyed. "I knew that would happen… We probably shouldn't have spared his knight's life in Lothering, but I imagine he would have found out eventually anyway."
"Oh, I have no doubt of that." A disgusted scowl dawned on him, that familiar hatred for the man who betrayed them burning inside him. "He wouldn't want us spreading his dirty little secret, after all. Of course, that also means we have to be extra careful when visiting towns and villages going forward. I doubt they have pictures of us, but all they need to do is look at our armor to pick us out from the crowd. He probably didn't even target us individually, just ordered the bounty on all Grey Wardens that may wander into Ferelden's lands."
"Yeah… I think you may be right about that. Any man in his shoes might be paranoid enough to be that desperate." She knitted her eyebrows, regarding him warily. "What else did you find out?"
"All right, here's the second piece of good news." He blew out a breath. "There's a civil war raging in the Bannorn. Some of the nobles want to force Loghain off the throne. Which I think is a good thing, but... Well… All the fighting may make our efforts against the Blight a little more difficult. If that's even possible."
"Oh… Yes. That'll be a problem. And not just for us. They will all be so busy killing each other, they won't even see the darkspawn coming." Everil shook her head, resting a hand on her hip. "We'll deal with it. Just like with everything else. So... is there a reason why I couldn't join you in the conversation?"
"Teagan didn't know you knew who my father was, so he was being cautious. He brought up the throne thing… tried to force it on me..." He trailed off and put on a grin, trying not to show how shaken he still was. "But I shut him down quickly. No big deal."
The strain in his voice earned him a concerned look as Everil sensed his discomfort. "Are you sure? It certainly doesn't sound like it was 'no big deal' to me."
"Yeah… Let's just say I'm not used to being put down over my parentage. Oh, wait…" Alistair gasped mockingly. "Yes, I am! How stupid of me to forget."
"He what?" she asked, a bit surprised. "What did he say?"
"According to him—" He counted with his fingers. "—I'm a coward, I'm irresponsible, and I'm a disappointment. Nothing I haven't heard before, but pretty upsetting nonetheless."
"I'm sorry… I'm sure he was just trying to do the right thing."
"Sure. The right thing for everyone but me, as usual. Seems old habits die hard around here." Alistair chuckled wryly, the uncomfortable topic prompting him to change the subject. "At any rate, that's not all I wanted to tell you. I… also wanted to thank you."
"What for?" Everil tilted her head.
"For saving the arl's family…" he replied quietly, taking a step closer while relaxing his arms. "You could have taken the easy way out and killed Connor, but chose not to."
A corner of her mouth curled, her tone hinted with guilt. "I was going to at one point, remember?"
"But you didn't, and it's thanks to that that the arl won't have more death to grieve over when he wakes up." He offered her a grateful smile. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that this felt personal. I owe the arl a lot and saving his wife and son feels like a first step towards repaying him for everything he did for me."
"You're welcome… Though there really is no need to thank me. You played a hand in it too."
"Heh… I guess you're right. It does feel good to finally be able to save something after having seen so much death over the last couple of days. We have to celebrate the small victories, right?"
Everil laughed a little. "Right."
"Anyway... That's all I wanted to say." Alistair rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling sheepish under her gentle stare. He cleared his throat. "Uhm… I should go and get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Hold on," she called, patting his arm before heading over to her things. "I actually found something I wanted to give you." Everil pulled a small item from one of the pockets and held it in a closed fist before once again approaching him. "Give me your hand."
Alistair eyed her curiously but complied with her request. She turned his hand over and slowly opened her fingers over it. A thick silver chain flowed from her to him, along with something a little heavier. When she pulled away, a pendant stared back at him, the jewel at the center reflecting the light of the candle nearby. He froze, immediately recognizing it. "This is…"
She smiled warmly. "Yes. It's your mother's amulet."
"I... I thought I lost this forever…" he stammered incredulously, unable to keep the emotion from his voice. "Why isn't it broken? Where did you find it?"
"It was in the arl's nightstand. I think he may have fixed it for you."
"I... guess he did." A knot formed inside his throat, his heart heavy as memories of the times when Eamon tried to talk to him in the monastery flooded in, followed by his adamant refusal to see him. Suddenly, he felt like an idiot. Like a foolish brat who back then thought only of himself when the arl had no doubt been hurting as well.
"See? He still cares about you," Everil said as if reading his thoughts. "And I'm sure he'll be glad to see you again when he wakes."
At that moment, he realized what she'd just done for him. There were no memories of his mother—no kisses, hugs, lullabies, nor portraits—only a few stories told to him by the arl throughout his youth. All he'd ever known and felt of the woman who birthed him had been this pendant. A memento he used to hold tightly whenever he struggled with her absence. The biggest regret of his life had been throwing it away in his anger—made worse every time it seemed everyone abandoned him. Now it was once again in his possession, and the familiar weight returned to him that comforting feeling he so missed.
A concerned voice reached him. "Alistair? Are you all right?"
"Yeah… I just…" His eyes softened and he smiled sadly at her. "I can't believe you remembered. I'm more used to people not listening to what I say."
"Of course I remembered." She gently took the necklace from him, stepping nearer before delicate hands unraveled the chain and slid it over his head. Her gaze met his as lithe fingers touched the pendant, her palm pressed to the griffons spreading their wings over his breastplate. "You're special to me…"
Alistair searched those sky blue orbs, finally finding in their depths the truth about his feelings for her. Yes, he ached to kiss those alluring lips. Yes, he craved to hold her in his arms. And yes, he yearned to explore every inch of those tempting curves. But the warmth filling him spoke of something far more meaningful than all those things.
"Everil..." he whispered, intently tracing her features.
"Yes...?" She tilted her head, palm still over his now pounding heart.
"I know... we haven't known each other for very long. And that... this may be because of all we've been through together... but…" He swallowed nervously, unsteady hands coming to rest over her arms. "I have grown to care for you… A great deal."
Heat rose to her face at his confession, and she found herself captivated by his amber eyes. Everything went silent around them. And all she could hear were his heartfelt words.
"And I was wondering if…" Alistair gradually leaned closer, their noses almost touching. "If you… would ever feel the same way about me."
For a second, Everil couldn't speak, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering in a crazed frenzy. Happiness filled her, but fear also reared its ugly head when Morrigan's words again drifted into her mind. Should she give in to these feelings? Would it be worth the risk considering they were both bound by their duty as Grey Wardens? She attempted to reason with her emotions.
This man had been with her through thick and thin, from the very beginning, without question. He'd fought alongside her. Shown her what it was like to have someone to depend on when all seemed lost. To the point where she trusted no one more than him. So if their oath—or anything else—were to ever force them apart, she was confident that at least they would still be there for each other. And to her, that was enough.
"I think..." Her voice came as nearly a whisper. "I think I already do…"
Alistair grinned lightly, a little relieved by her answer. "So… does that mean that you wouldn't mind if I kissed you?"
"Yes… I wouldn't mind..." she replied with a tiny smile of her own.
Slowly, he pressed his lips to hers, shy and uncertain at first. While Everil returned the kiss ever so gently.
Her arms snaked around his neck, silently inviting him to kiss her again. And again. And the more those lips lingered over his, the greater his thirst became until he could take no more. He wanted to taste her. To drink more of this spring and finally quench his thirst after having dreamed of it for too long.
A bold hand went to the small of her back and he pulled her flush against him, drawing a gasp that granted him entrance to the moist warmth within her mouth. His tongue explored her depths as she did his, a heavy breath escaping his nose as his fingertips came to lace through her chocolate locks.
She breathlessly drowned in their kiss, her temperature rising to a boiling point. The way his hungry lips and wet tongue moved against hers spoke of inexperience, yet his raw passion took hold of her, clouding her senses and stripping her of all thought. She felt a knot tighten between her legs and moaned, yearning to let him do with her whatever he wanted.
The sound of her pleasure pulled at his restraints as he continued to bask in the taste of her. To savor those rosy petals that beckoned him many times before. Oh, how he wished for her to moan again. To maybe even call out his name. But in spite of the growing pressure in his trousers, what was left of his reason yanked him out of the fog of lust, putting a halt to his body's hunt for release. It took all of his will power to break away from her now flushed lips, the loss filling him with disappointment, while he told himself now was not the time.
Alistair leaned his forehead against hers, his breaths fast and heavy. "That... That wasn't too soon was it?"
She shook her head, her heart threatening to break out of its cage. "I… I actually can't wait for you to do it again..."
Alistair chuckled deeply, gently stroking her scar with his thumb. "Hm… I can arrange for that soon…" His stare remained hinted with lust as it took in her blushing face and her parted mouth. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful... I'm a very lucky man."
She smiled in a daze, leaning into his touch. Andraste, how she wished he hadn't stopped. That he'd laid with her and held her through the night. But it seemed he wasn't ready—and if Everil were honest with herself—she wasn't prepared either.
He released a deep, quivering breath and reluctantly withdrew, hands coming to rest behind her elbows. Another chortle escaped him. "I... should probably leave... before I lose control and give in to the dirty thoughts in my head."
She laughed a little. "All right…"
"Good night..." He leaned in, this time pressing a chaste kiss to her other cheek.
"Night…" Everil whispered, watching him head for the door. Alistair gave her one last glance before opening it, then stepped out, disappearing into the hallway. She stared wistfully after him, a hand over her bosom as her pulse still drummed in her ears.
Now standing in the gratefully empty hall, Alistair released a drawn-out huff, trying to calm his racing heart and allow his body to cool. He hadn't expected this to happen before walking into her room, but by the Maker, was he grateful he came and finally found the nerve to tell her how he felt. Another breath escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair, his arousal finally ebbing away enough for him to move comfortably. He made to walk towards his room, only to pause when he noticed a man was heading towards him.
"By that look on your face, I see that I am too late," Teagan joked with a smirk, stopping a few feet from him and folding his arms.
The Warden didn't care that he was grinning ear to ear like an idiot when he approached him. "Like you ever had a chance," he quipped, patting the bann's shoulder while passing him by. His prior irritation was now gone, their earlier argument completely forgiven. All thanks to a certain brunette. "Have a nice night, Teagan."
"You too, Alistair," he chuckled, turning to watch him go. He shook his head at the younger man and continued on his stroll to his chambers, a content smile on his lips. At least he'd listened to him on this.
.x.x.x.x.
The sun rose over the tranquil waters of Lake Calenhad, showering it with its golden rays. But the beauty of the morning was overshadowed by the sadness and grief that remained over Redcliffe Village. Many were gathered at the docks—knights, soldiers, families, and clerics—all survivors of the horrible attacks that took away their loved ones mere days ago. A few volunteers helped set up the boats, placing in them the bodies of the men, women, and children who didn't make it.
They were cast from the shore, one by one sent to drift aimlessly into the horizon as those they left behind wept at their departure. Among them, the Grey Wardens stood by the arl's family, solemnly watching the ceremony as the breeze lifted their cloaks. Their party had remained in the castle at Everil's request, thinking that perhaps it was best to keep the presence of strangers at a minimum out of respect for the mourning.
"It's very fortunate Connor doesn't remember a thing about any of this," Teagan said quietly to the Wardens, hands clasped at his back while sending a sad look towards the boy. He was standing a few steps away, holding the hand of his crestfallen mother while sullenly observing those around him.
"What did you tell him really happened?" Alistair inquired with arms crossed, his voice just as silent.
"That we were attacked by evil creatures you vanquished. I didn't elaborate further."
"I suppose that's not far from the truth…" Everil sighed, looking on towards the parting boats.
The snap of bowstrings sounded out as archers released flaming arrows, setting the bodies aflame. A man sung a soft song about lost souls as the gentle melody of a lute joined him, doing little to drown out the wails. Slowly, the flames floated into the distance, the numbers so great that what was visible of the lake was filled with small lights as gentle plumes of smoke rose to the skies.
"This is all Loghain's fault. If he hadn't sent that blood mage…" Alistair muttered, angrily closing a fist upon seeing the true extent of the tragedy that befell what was briefly his hometown. It was true there were many factors at play. From the arlessa's need to protect her son to the boy's careless deal with a demon to save his father. But the teyrn had taken advantage of a mage's desperation in an attempt to eliminate a perceived enemy, while also dragging the rest of Redcliffe into his plot. Whatever games he was playing, they needed to stop him.
"He will answer for what he's done soon enough. Let's first focus on growing our army and saving the arl," Everil assured him, narrowing her eyes at the heartbreaking scene before them. "Once we have what we need, then we can bring justice upon him."
"Right…" He nodded firmly, a scowl over his face.
The time couldn't come fast enough.
.x.x.x.x.
Once the funeral was over, both Grey Wardens and their party were accompanied out of the castle by the bann. They paused by the gates, facing each other while horses were brought to them by a couple of servants. "The trip to Denerim will be too long on foot and Redcliffe's horses are said to be the fastest in Ferelden," Teagan told them, a hand extended to the animals. "These are a few of the ones that survived the demon's ire here in the castle. Consider them a gift for saving our people and my family."
There were six horses, one for each of them, all brown Ferelan Forders bred for the arl's mounted knights. Much like mabari hounds, horses were not cheap in Ferelden and only nobles and their knights could afford them. That he was willing to give them so many spoke not only of Arl Eamon's wealth and power but of his brother's great trust and willingness to help them.
Alistair smiled at him. "They'll definitely make things easier on us… especially carrying our camping equipment. Thank you, Teagan."
He gave him a teasing look. "I hope you remember how to ride one."
"I'll do my best. If anything I have friends here who can scrape me off the ground," Alistair jested with a grin, using his thumb to point behind him at their companions. He received a mixture of chuckles and eye-rolls in return.
"So I see," Teagan let out a light laugh before regarding the other Warden. "At any rate, I can imagine Eamom's support in the Landsmeet was not all you sought when you first arrived here. I know coin is scarce for you at this time. So I want to give you this…" He pulled a bag of sovereigns from his waist and placed it on her hands, the weight of it making them nearly sink. "Use it for whatever you need. My brother may be ill right now, but I will do all I can to help in your efforts to stop the Blight."
Everil blinked, looking at the pouch with surprise. With this much coin they could afford any gear they needed, along with food and perhaps board on some towns. "This is very generous of you, Bann Teagan. You have our gratitude." She grinned gratefully at him. "And we hope to bring good news about the Urn next time we come to Redcliffe."
He nodded. "It's the least I can do for all you've done for us. I wish you all safe travels. We'll be waiting eagerly for your return."
"All right, everyone!" Everil faced her party while tying the bag to her belt. "Pick your horses. We have a long trip ahead of us."
She went to the closest mount, gently petting its nose before climbing onto its saddle with ease. Her fellow Warden followed suit while the rest of the group did the same. And then she was leading the way once more, galloping across the bridge with Bjorn beside her and Alistair riding close behind her. They were followed by the witch, the mage, the qunari, and the Chantry sister—all heading out of Redcliffe and northeast to Ferelden's royal capital. Denerim.