Chapter 114: The Way of the Warden
Alim made his way up western parapet of the Castle Redcliffe. The Warden Mage had spent a lot of time this afternoon speaking with the Arl and his generals. There was still much to be done before they made their way to Denerim. Allies had to be contacted. Friends reassured that the Landsmeet wasn't just some trap Loghain was baiting.
Alim was impressed with how quickly the Arl had turned his attention to the crisis. Surely, he must be hurting, the loss of his son must have weighed heavily on his mind, still…he continued to soldier on.
Then there was the matter of Jowan. Arl Eamon had not yet decided what to do about his old friend. Whatever he decided though, it would not be pleasant for Jowan.
The elf frowned.
No, it would not be pleasant at all.
Fortunately, the Arl did not seem to hold him responsible, he recognized that Alim had done what he thought was best, either that, or he blamed Jowan for everything.
If he did, that made what was likely to come next very easy, at least when it came to dealing with Alim's old friend.
He is your friend.
Alim knew that he owed Jowan nothing, the man had lied to him, used him, and much of what he had suffered could now be laid at the blood mages feet. It would be wise to let the Arl dispense justice, and be done with it.
He is still your friend.
Jowan would be punished, and the wardens would be blameless, it was for the best, the Arl knew that, and so did Alim.
Is that right? Is that fair?
Alim had killed the boy, it was save others, the Arl, who had led his people well for many years likely, understood, but still…still…
Alim knew that he should just let the man blame Jowan, it was better for their mission.
That isn't fair.
Of course, that did not make it any easier to stand in his presence. It had been a hard call to make, killing young Connor, but it was decision that had needed to be made.
The Arl had said nothing about it, but it was clear from his cold eyes that he had not forgotten. Finally Alim had not been able to take it anymore.
Are you really going to let them punish Jowan?
He had needed to get away, so he had come up here. He had needed solitude…
He heard a soft woof near his feet, that and a lot of snuffling.
He smiled.
Well…near solitude.
He nudged the large furry back with his foot; he looked down affectionately, even though the object of that look ignored him.
He didn't mind.
Alim stretched his back popped, he was still weary from the long journey here, but it would be a while before he found any rest.
As a warden he had done everything he could to achieve their goals, what came next was not entirely in his hands.
The elf snorted.
Now, it felt to the Landsmeet, would Ferelden unite or not, would it stand or fall?
It was not easy to accept, putting his trust in a pack of squabbling nobles. Many who could not see beyond their own desire and those that could no doubt still feared Loghain's wrath…
What would they think of all this, would they see an opportunity, or what they think it foolish at best a trap at worst.
He could not even begin to imagine.
The Ferelden nobles might not be as bad as those in Orzammar, but still…still…
They still had much to lose, and some might not feel the wardens worth the gamble.
The warden mage sighed.
Personally he could not blame any noble who might be considering not attend this gathering, if everything they had heard from Bodahn was correct, it had been a hard winter for Loghain's enemies. The Teyrn had proven his skill as a master of warfare. Mass deceptions, massacres, and burning villages had been his calling card as the Teyrn had tried to cow the rebellious lords of Ferelden into submission.
Alim's ears twitched.
Eamon's name might carry some weight, but it would be hard to deny what Loghain had accomplished. If the wardens were to have any chance of unseating him, they needed to defeat the Teyrn on his own ground, which meant defeating him in the capital's halls of power.
Alim frowned.
That was likely easier said than done.
He leaned against the cold stone railing, staring out at the mountains and beyond that the distant fields of Orlais. A cold breeze ruffled his hair; the night wind sent a shiver down his spine.
He wrapped the heavy fur cloak he had bought from Tegrin around himself, his hand lightly tapped on the cold stone. He tried not to feel daunted about the coming days, but it was not an easy thing.
Yes, the treaties had been difficult to fulfill, finding the ashes equally so, but what came next would be far more difficult. They would need to convince the lords and ladies of Ferelden that one of their greatest heroes was no longer protecting them that he had his own agenda now, and that agenda was not in their best interest.
The elf sighed.
The Arl was confident that he could convince the Landsmeet to see things their way, but if he couldn't, if they failed to win the nobles' support…what then? Could Loghain win this? Even Arl Eamon said that was possible…
If that happened, would the Teyrn allow them to stand against the darkspawn, or would he continue to ignore the threat that was even now moving closer and closer to his front door.
Alim doubted that. It was more likely that he would have them all executed, that the Archdemon would continue its trek unopposed. All of Ferelden would likely fall, and if that happened, it would only be a matter of time until the horde moved on, either to Orlais or through the deep roads under the waking seas, perhaps to Nevarra or the Free Marches…
…If that happened…?
Well, if that happened it probably would not matter much to him personally, because if it did happen, he would not be any position to care.
He would be dead.
They would all likely be dead.
Alim paled.
Leliana would be dead, dead and broken by the darkspawn, that or turned into horror, turned and birthing even more… more…
His eyes narrowed.
No.
No fucking way.
He could not allow that, they could not allow that.
Defeat was not an option.
They needed to win the nobles' support, and win it they would.
One way or the other, they would get all those bastards to help…
…One way, or the other.
A snuffling sound at Alim's feet drew his attention, he looked down and smiled.
Bandit lay at his feet chewing on an old boot; the large Mabari barely acknowledged his master, so complete was his attention on the old piece of leather.
The elf chuckled.
"I do hope that that did not belong to someone important," he said grinning.
Bandit looked up and wagged his stubby tail, he woofed happily before returning to his work.
The mage shook his head.
Dozy dog, he thought.
Alim's eyes once again fell on distant Orlais. He found himself wondering what the wardens of the empire were doing right now. Were they waiting for Ferelden to fall, it would not surprise him in the least.
There was no help coming, he was sure of that. If Ferelden was going to be saved they would have to do it themselves. They…
"Lim? OHHHH, Lim?"
His ears twitched, he could sense who it was, even if that person had not called out.
He could feel the gentle pull in his blood, in his very soul.
"I'm up here Ali," he called.
Alistair came up the stairs. Alim blinked at first he was not sure what he was seeing.
He paused, whatever comment he might have said died on his lips.
Alistair did not need any of comments right now that was certain.
The elf frowned.
Alistair, his fellow warden…looked bad.
Despite being clean, he seemed disheveled, his eyes were red, and his hair a mess, he seemed to be having trouble standing up.
He gave Alim a sloppy grin.
"Heeey," he purred.
The warden mage pursed his lips.
"Hey yourself," he said coldly.
If Alistair noticed, he did not show it, he just kept right on grinning.
Even if he did not have a half empty bottle in his hand, the elf would guess what was wrong, from the smell if nothing else.
"You're drunk," he said flatly.
Alistair blinked.
"Ammm I?" he said glancing around, a confused look on his face, "Well, I guess that wooould explain the slurred speech."
He grinned.
"Thanksss Lim."
The elf did not smile back.
They really didn't have time for this.
Alistair looked down at the bottle, he frowned.
"I…ummm…I think it is broken, Lim," he said, "It…it isss not as heavy as it once wassss, and then there is the fact that is really, really, reallllly, not helping me right now."
He looked down at the bottle, and snarled. Before Alim could move he chucked it over the side of the tower, towards the lake.
The elven warden winced.
Hopefully, no one would be underneath it when it fell.
He gave his friend a cool look, not as cold as Wynne could do of course, but the old lady had had far more practice.
Alistair, they…they really did not need this from him right now.
He staggered and fell against the nearest railing, he grunted a fell down.
"Stay down," Alim said.
Alistair snorted.
"Good idea," he murmured, he put his head in his hands, it…it…
Alim's ears twitched.
"Are you crying?"
Alistair snorted and looked up.
"It…it is too much Lim. It issss too, too much."
The elf kneeled down, Bandit finally noticing Alistair's state of distress stood up and walked over, sniffing the drunken warden.
" Goo away," he said weakly, "Pushing the dog's mussel out of his face."
"He is worried," Alim said, "So am I."
Alistair refused to meet his gaze. He merely whimpered and looked away.
The elf did not try to force him to look up, whatever was eating his fellow warden had caused him to come up here.
Alim frowned.
He did not think he would have to wait long to find out what was going on.
"Ali?" he said softly.
The man groaned.
"ALI!" he said more forcefully.
That, made his friend look up. He pinned the warden mage with red rimmed eyes.
He whimpered again.
Alim resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
Alistair had been extremely quiet since the Arl revealed his plan to make him king. He had said he understood his duty, but from his reaction it was clear that that was not so, not totally anyway.
He needed to be a friend here. Alistair had been hit with a lot lately, the flight from the temple of sacred ashes, the Archdemon haunting their dreams, and now the idea that he may be crowned king.
It was not hard to imagine why he was so freaked.
Alim took a deep breath, and gathered his courage.
"Ali," he murmured, "what is going on?"
The former Templar sighed.
"Seri sez I'm being foolish," he said, "That I should embrace all thisss. We…we were drinking together you see, her, and me, and Zev…"
Alistair shook his head.
"I thought it would make me feel better. Better than she made me feel."
Alim blinked.
"Seri made you feel bad, that is why you went and got drunk?"
"Yeah, no, um…not Seri, she…she was trying to help, but she…she did not make me feel better. She…she called me a selfish bastard."
"Who did?" Alim asked.
"She did, that bitch or witch, that…that bitchy witchy…her."
Alim pursed his lips.
Of course, who else would he mean…but her.
"Morrigan."
Alistair nodded.
"She…she doesn't want me anymore Lim," he blubbered, "She told me to stay away, to send her away…when I sad no, she…she got angry, soooo angry,"
Alistair wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.
"What did I do wrong Lim?"
"What did I do wrong?"
The elf coughed.
What did he do wrong? That was a good question. Alim found himself thinking back to his last conversation with the witch.
He shook his head.
He had thought he had the witch figured out. She liked power. She liked control, but she had also not been too proud to ask for help. When they killed Flemeth, she had genuinely been worried about that. From what he had heard her say in the past it was clear she was still worried about Flemeth, but that was no reason to distance herself from her lover, if anything she should have drawn closer to Alistair. So, that he could protect her.
Breaking away from him that did not seem to be safest move on her part. In fact it was downright puzzling.
He had no idea what her motivation was now. She genuinely cared about Alistair; he had seen that in her eyes, to just cast him out like that…
It made no sense.
Of course, he could not say that to Alistair.
He smiled weakly.
"I do not know, Ali," he said shaking his head. "I can't say for certain."
Alistair put his head in his hands. He was on the verge of sobbing again.
"Can't," he whimpered, "I just can't."
The elf's eyes narrowed.
"Yes you can." He said hotly.
"I can't."
Alim almost growled.
"Yes, you can," he said, "We need you Alistair. The group needs you. Ferelden needs you. We don't have time to let you sink into a bottle."
Alistair whimpered. He looked down at his hand. Perhaps wishing he had not thrown the bottle away.
Alim continued to glare at him.
"You knew what kind of woman she was when you began your…your…whatever you had with Morrigan. Did you really think it would end any other way? Did you actually think you could have a future with her?"
Alistair took a shuddering breath.
"Noooo," he moaned, "No future, no future for any of us."
Alim rolled his eyes.
"It isn't over yet, we can still do this."
Alistair laughed fatalistically.
"Even if wee win. Wee loose, Lim. Wardens always loose."
He gave him a sad look.
"Wee didn't tell you, didn't tell Daveth, didn't tell Jory. We couldn't, you would never have done it."
Alistair shook his head.
"I'm sorry."
Alim felt a chill run down his spine.
"What?" he said.
Alistair blinked.
"What, What?"
"What didn't you tell us?"
He laughed again.
"We didn't tell you about the change," he said, "The appetite, you know the dreams too, but that isn't all."
He smiled sloppily.
"The greatest thing about being a grey warden is: you don't have to worry about dying of old age. You got thirty years to live, give or take."
Alim's eyes widened, his ears went up.
"What are you talking about?!"
Alistair leaned back.
"The taint," he sighed, "It is a death sentence, event…eventually you won't be able to stand it. You will go to Orz…Orz…that dwarven place and fight; you will fight until you die."
He sniffled.
"We're going to die."
Alim's head spun.
Part of him wanted to say that this was the drink talking, but something in Alistair's eyes revealed the truth.
Alim's heart pounded.
He…he…
He was going to die.
He knew it had to happen sometime, but he…he had thought. He had thought he would be able to step away after the Blight. That he would have time, a chance to teach others about the Stormbreakers.
…To grow old, to grow old with Leliana.
Now…he knew that wasn't true.
He knew it.
And he felt a wave of terror wash over him.
Fear…and fury.
"Why did you not tell me this before?!" he demanded.
Alistair gave him a sad look.
"Maybe I wanted to spare you." He shook his head, "Don't know if Theron knows either, but…he should…we should tell him."
The former Templar shook his head.
"When Duncan told me. I…I was angry soooo angry. He put his arm around me…and…and said…"
Alistair swallowed hard.
"It is not how we die. It…it is how we live."
Alim glared at his friend, his brother. It was bad enough that Alistair had fallen apart, now to have him drop this on him. To have his friend just blurt out what was to come, like this…
It was all Alim could do to keep his anger in check.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
He took a shuddering breath and forced himself to calm down.
Calm was better, he knew.
Calm did not bring the storm.
He sighed.
He would have to tell Leliana, it would break her heart, but what else could he do.
She needed to know.
He looked at his friend. Alistair had come here looking for solace, and Alim found he had none to give, not now, not yet.
He forced himself to breathe; he tried to console himself with the knowledge that they still had an Archdemon to face, that would likely kill him faster than the taint,
Was it not better to die in battle now, or die twenty something years from now?
He…he could not say for certain. All he knew now was that his perspective had changed. He was angry but…
There would be time for anger later.
He gave his friend a sad look.
"So," said grimly, "What do we do now?"
Bandit whimpered and lay down beside him resting his huge head in Alim's lap.
The elf smiled and scratched his ears. It was a simple pleasure sure, but one that never grew old.
It had always made him feel a little better.
Alistair sighed.
"We do our duty," he murmured, "What else is there?"
Alim frowned.
What else indeed.
He pushed Bandit off and got to his feet. He offered his friend a hand.
"Come on Ali," he said.
The former Templar took his hand, he almost fell on the elf, but fortunately bandit was there to grab onto his shirt.
"Heeey," Alistair moaned.
"Watch the teeth."
Bandit woofed softly.
Alim sighed.
"Come on Ali," he said leading his friend down the stairs.
The former Templar blinked.
"Where are we going," he asked.
The elf shook his head.
Where were they going?
He really could not say.
All he knew was that they had to move forward.
Always…forward.