Chapter 157: Comes the Dawn
Dawn arrived to the sound of horn and drum.
All around Redcliffe, the army was preparing to move out. Word of the darkspawn march on Denerim had reached many ears. The Horde's size had left little chance of its advance going unnoticed. Ferelden soldiers girded themselves for the long march. The jewel of the kingdom was being threatened by the Archdemon and its slaves.
There was not a soldier present who did not wish to go to the capital's defense.
Alistair emerged from the castle surrounded by a ring of advisors and guards. Arl Eamon walked beside him, giving him last minute instructions as the host prepared to head out and face their enemy.
Clad in fine golden armor, the new king looked every bit the brother of the late King Cailan, though his approach to the coming battle was clearly not the same as his elder brother's.
Cailan would have been practically been bouncing with excitement, the thought of glory and an unshakable belief in victory would be more than enough to bolster his spirits. Alistair had gotten to know war much more intimately than his brother had over the last few months.
He recognized the fact that this was not about glory, and it was not a game.
This war was about survival, and Ferelden could not afford to lose again.
Alistair's expression was grim, grim but determined, when the servants had been helping him into his armor, he and Eamon had spoken at length about what was about to happen.
"You have done well Alistair," The Arl had exclaimed, "Despite the hardships you and your allies have faced, you have replaced the army that was lost at Ostagar."
"It wasn't just me My Lord," he said, "Lim and the others…"
"They are to be commended; you all should be, but…"
Eamon's eyes reflected a sense of grim determination.
"You have given us a chance. Now we must all pray that it has been enough."
It was a sentiment that Alistair agreed with, still…still…
Riordan's words from the night before still haunted the king. The realization that one of them would not be returning, not if they wanted the Blight to end, of course, that point might be moot in the end.
It was likely that they would never reach the Archdemon.
It was possible that they would all be dead in just a few short days.
He had barely slept last night. The war to come kept any thought of rest away, what sleep he did find was listless, haunted by visions of the darkspawn and their foul master. He had found himself awake, and pacing the floor of his room, again and again. More than once he had looked to the door, looked at it, started to make for it, only to stop with his hand just over the knob, it was in that moment that he felt like a coward, no matter what he had done in the last year.
What did fighting darkspawn and demons matter, when he could no longer face the one who had won his heart?
He wanted to go to Morrigan, tell her what he would soon face. He knew that she wanted nothing to do with him, but that did not mean that he could simply will away his feelings.
What they had had. What they had shared.
How it had all slipped away haunted him.
She was the first woman he had ever shared himself with, despite her promises of it all being experimentation and comfort with no attachments, he knew immediately that that was a lie. What they had shared had left a mark upon him, and he would carry that mark for the rest of his taint shortened life.
He needed to go to her; even if she did not care he needed to say something, anything.
He needed it; if he was going to do what needed to be done he had to do it.
He needed to face it.
It had taken him three tries before he finally had worked up the nerve to do it. He had turned the knob and stepped out into the hallway, the entire castle seemed asleep and no guards were around to challenge him. He made for Morrigan's room, ready to face her, ready to tell her what he needed to say. Ready for…
"Trouble sleeping?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin; he whirled around, almost knocking over one of the empty suits of armor that decorated the hall.
Alim stood before him, looking more haggard than he had ever seen. His large brown eyes seemed…sad, though there was a flicker of something almost manic hidden there.
The elf tried to smile, but it was clear that whatever demons Alistair had been facing this night, his friends were likely worse.
"Lim," he said taking a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.
"What are you still doing up?"
"I could ask you the same thing," his friend responded, "I've been…walking, trying to deal with what everything that has happened lately, and what is likely going to happen when we reach the capital."
The elf shook his head.
"The things we are asked to do for duty," he said with a mirthless chuckle.
His smile fell away.
"Or for love."
That last part stopped Alistair cold; he almost kicked himself, once again feeling like a total ass.
Here he was obsessing about Morrigan, a woman who had for all intended purposes turned her back on him.
He was not the only one who had something to lose in this fight. Alim had Leliana.
What they had to face was no less terrifying, and in their case perhaps more so.
The elf and the bard were deeply in love with each other.
What they would soon face could likely tear all that asunder.
The king took a deep breath, trying not to focus on that.
Alim did not need to hear about that from him right now. He had enough on his mind already.
He did not need more troubles thrown at him.
"Would you like some company?" the king asked his friend.
Alim nodded and gestured for him to follow. The two wardens fell in step beside one another. Despite the many titles they both wore, for the moment they were just two grey wardens again.
The way it had been since their survival of the Battle of Ostagar.
Perhaps the way it would always be.
IOI
Neither said much for a time, through the taint they could sense their mutual presence. To Alistair seemed like a beacon, his magic and the taint flowing in his blood making him as bright as any star. To the elf, Alistair's presence in the taint seemed…muted somehow. He was not quite sure what to make of that.
Something is different about him, the elf thought; I was too new to the taint in the beginning to realize that. Being around other wardens had revealed much to him about the nature of the taint, and how it figured into the order, what it felt like, and what was to be expected as time passed.
He frowned slightly.
What are you Alistair? He thought to himself. Was the fact that Duncan cared about you the only reason he kept you out of the fight at Ostagar, or was there something more?
He glanced over at his friend, his elven ears twitching slightly.
Why you Alistair?
What was so special about you?
He pushed that thought aside, what did it matter what Duncan knew; whatever that secret was it died with him.
They would both be marching into the Archdemon's path now.
First and foremost, Alistair was a grey warden.
He would face the Archdemon, no matter what secrets he might still have.
The King looked down on him, his expression thoughtful.
"Have you gone to Leliana yet?" he asked.
The elf pushed down the sense of panic that the question brought with it. The question was not meant to provoke, it had merely been an inquiry based on friendly concern.
It was also a question he could not answer truthfully.
"She was asleep by the time I got back to our room," he said, "I did not wish to disturb her rest."
He managed another weak smile.
"We have a big day tomorrow."
"Yeah," Alistair agreed, "I suppose we do."
He sighed heavily.
"I think I should tell Morrigan. I was on my way to see her when we met."
Again Alim had to force himself not to panic, his heart pounded at the mention of the witch's name.
Had Alistair chosen to leave his room only a half hour earlier…?
He shivered.
That would not have been a good situation…for anyone.
Alim shook his head.
Thank Andraste that Alistair had hesitated to go and see Morrigan, he could not believe he was saying that, but in that moment he knew it was the truth.
Praise Andraste.
They passed an open window, though dawn was still a ways off, he could almost see the light starting to emerge from behind the mountains to the east... He had not realized how late it was until now.
Clearly he had lost track of time during…during…
"Do you think that I should do it Lim?"
The elf blinked.
He had not been paying attention.
"Do what?"
"Do you think I should go to Morrigan, tell her about what we are about to face?"
Alim's eyes narrowed.
"She is likely asleep by now, Aly," he reminded his friend, "Where we should both be if we were smart."
His friend grimaced, Alim had not intended for his response to be so angry, yet anger had seeped through.
He let out another tired sigh.
"Sorry," he murmured, "Just feeling tired, and cranky."
The king chuckled.
"Well," he said dryly, "You have always been kinda' cranky."
The elf snorted.
"True," he agreed.
So far so good, he thought, now keep him distracted so that he will go to his room and forget this business with Morrigan.
He did not like the fact that he wanted to hide this from Alistair, but it was better for them all, at least in the short term.
Alistair had enough worries right now, he did not need anymore.
The ritual had not been quite when Alim had expected. There had been an arrangement of candles and of Morrigan murmuring some ancient chant under her breath. He was surprised to realize that he recognized at least some of the words, not from his training in the circle, but from the memories he had received from the ancient Stormbreaker.
Was this ritual somehow elven in origin? How could Flemeth have learned of an ancient Elven ritual? He had assumed it was something from ancient Tevinter, some blood ritual.
Why would the elves have needed such a spell?
If Morrigan knew the answer she did not share it. She gestured for him to undress, which he did, she continued to sing the strange sounding chant, as she slid out of her own robes.
Alim swallowed hard. He tried not to stare, to focus on his feelings for Leliana, that he was doing this to save not only himself but his fellow wardens as well.
It was as good an excuse as any.
One day, he might even come to believe it.
Morrigan crawled onto the bed as the last of her clothes fell away. He stared into the witch's amber eyes; they almost seemed to glow with power. He tried not to stare at her body, nor to think about the arousal he was feeling, she was a beautiful woman sure, and had she asked this of him before Leliana he might have even enjoyed this, but not now…not now…
She leaned over him blowing out one of the candles. He had leaned back, trying not to touch her, wanting not to touch her.
Her mouth fell upon his.
The true ritual began.
Despite his wishes, he had been unable to completely distance himself from what he was doing. Morrigan knew plenty of ways it seemed to keep him on point, and to enflame his emotions.
She was clearly no novice when it came to pleasures of the flesh, and he found himself under her spell.
He was…rougher than he was with Leliana, his anger at the witch mixing with the desire she was inspiring, yet the witch had not seemed to mind, if anything she enjoyed what he was doing. She cried out his name twice during climax, and then after all that, it was done.
The witch sighed and lay down next to him, a pleased cat-like expression on her face.
"Tis done," she murmured sleepily.
"You can go now, warden."
He had rose without another word, what would have been the point?
It was done.
That was all there was to say.
Alim shuddered at the memory.
He looked back at his friend, trying hard not to feel like a coward or a traitor.
Trying not to think about Alistair and Leliana, especially Leliana…
One betrayal, he thought.
Only one…
…I shall not repeat it again.
"If you must speak with Morrigan, Alistair," he said, "I would wait until tomorrow. Dawn is not far off now, and we should both try to get some rest."
He gave his friend a tired smile.
"We have a bit of a march to Denerim, plenty of time to confess our sins."
Alistair considered what he had said, finally he nodded.
"Perhaps your right, Lim, besides, I've seen Morrigan woken from a sound sleep…"
The king grinned.
"It is not a pretty sight."
Alim tried to laugh dismissively.
"I'll take your word for it," he said.
"Good night Lim," he said nodding, returning to his room.
Alim stayed for five minutes after, to make sure that Alistair had truly retired for the night.
Only then did he go back to his room, to join Leliana.
"Good night Alistair," he murmured.
"Good night."
IOI
As the sun first poked over the mountains, Alim and Leliana emerged from the castle. The bard adjusted her gloves, and did one final once over of the weapons on her belt. She looked well rested and ready, which she was.
Alim was…not so fortunate.
After his meeting with Alistair, he had returned to their room, washed up as best he could and went to his lover. He finished undressing her and put her to bed.
He joined her a few minutes later, though he did not touch her, after what he had done he did not feel worthy.
He had spent the rest of the night watching her sleep, the rise and fall of her chest, the cute way her brow furrowed in sleep, and the gentle pout of her lips.
He did not wish to forget this, this one perfect moment before they descended back into death and danger
The world might be a war, but in this moment he had been at peace.
He was up before her, already dressed in his armor. She stretched deliciously as he watched, putting on his coat and tall hat.
She smiled at him.
"I dreamed dearest," she cooed.
He gave her a sad smile.
"Good dreams I hope?"
She nodded, though her expression lost some of its bliss as she looked upon him.
"Is something wrong?" she asked.
"No," he lied.
"Nothing at all."
They said little as they broke their fast. When the horns sounded they both rose and headed for the courtyard.
The time of peace was done, now it was time to return to the war.
Alim glanced at his companions, all clad in their armor, looking ready for the long march.
His eyes fell on his fellow wardens. Alistair looked every bit the king that he was born to be. Jowan seemed a bit twitchy, but that was simply the way he was.
Theron stared forward, towards the horizon. The Dalish hunter knew what he was fighting for, no doubt he had spent the night thinking about his friends and family in his clan, the people he would die to protect.
Alim envied him.
Elissa Cousland looked as pale and sickly as ever, her eyes burning with a blend of fever and dark ambition. She flashed a cunning smile, a smile tinged with fury and perhaps a little madness. Alim wondered if perhaps it had been a good idea to induct the girl into the order.
Too late now, he realized, she was here, but that did not mean he would not watch his back in the battle to come.
Elissa would shed no tears if her fellow wardens died in the battle to come, in fact she might even rejoice.
He would watch her…very carefully.
Riordan rode beside Arl Eamon and Alistair; the old warden had no idea what had happened last night. Would he have been angry if he did? Would he have considered Alim craven for what he had did with Morrigan?
Did it even matter?
Two stable boys led their horses up. Leliana mounted gracefully, while he slid into his own saddle, his expression guarded revealing nothing.
"Sound the call," Eamon shouted.
"Sound the call," Alistair repeated, "HORNS!"
All around them the horns rang out sounding the march.
"Forward," Eamon shouted.
"Forward his lieutenants cried out.
"MARCH!"
Without another word, the army surged forward.
Toward Denerim.
Toward destiny,
While they moved out, he caught a glimpse of Morrigan.
The witch did not even acknowledge him, he might of well have been one of the suits of armor back in the castle as far as she was concerned.
He felt a surge of anger, overhead thunder rumbled.
Alim snorted and looked away.
The witch did not matter anymore.
Rituals did not matter.
There would be no hesitation, not now.
There was only the war…only the Blight.
He nodded grimly.
The time had finally come.
It was time to end this.