Chapter 7
"Come in," came the curt reply from the other side of the door. Alistair grimaced, his hand on the door handle. With a shake of his head, he turned it and pushed the door open and took a couple of steps inside.
"Just wanted to check up," he said, not letting go of the door handle. Somehow, he felt like he was intruding. "You okay?"
Aedan sat on the edge of the bed, which was located at the far corner of the small room. His head was bowed, a wet towel draped over the back of it. His hands were on either side of him on the bed. It didn't go unnoticed by Alistair how his fingers clutched the mattress tightly at the question.
"I will be." Aedan didn't look up. "Thank you for checking up on me, though. I appreciate it."
Alistair shrugged and offered a small smile, not that Aedan could see. "It's what br- friends are for, right?"
He remembered how Aedan had been so adamant about going to look for his brother back when they had met at Ostagar. In all probability, Fergus Cousland was dead. Bringing that up would be underhanded, no matter how unintentional it might have been. Especially now.
A dry chuckle escaped Aedan's throat. Might've been a grunt as well. "Yeah. It is, isn't it?"
"Will you be down for dinner?"
"Hmm. Yes. Probably. I don't know for certain."
"Just don't starve yourself is all I'm asking," Alistair said softly, and he thought he saw Aedan nod. Good enough. "I'll see you later, then?"
"You will."
"Alright, then."
Alistair retraced his steps back out and started to pull the door closed.
"Alistair?"
He stopped, poking his head inside enquiringly. Aedan was looking at him, a small smile on his face. "Thank you. I mean it."
The almost templar chuckled. "You're very welcome."
He then closed the door gently and leaned back against it, sighing deeply.
Everything had gone to shit after the Dead Trenches.
Alistair had heard of Broodmothers from Duncan and the other Wardens. He had heard how Darkspawn dragged live females down to the Deep Roads and transformed them into the hideous... things. These Broodmothers then gave birth to other Darkspawn. Human Broodmothers spawned Hurlocks, dwarven ones Genlocks, Elven ones Shrieks and Qunari ones Ogres.
Nobody had ever given him a description of a Broodmother, and even after seeing one live, he couldn't even bring into words what he had seen. Oghren provided the most apt description: "Too many boobs to be healthy." Can't really disagree, either.
What had scared him the most was the thought of losing Leliana or Solona or Wynne or even Morrigan to the Darkspawn. It scared him senseless. As much as the swamp witch irked his displeasure, he wouldn't wish that kind of fate on anybody. Arlessa Isolde came close, but making her a Darkspawn dispenser would be counterproductive. But then again, that would give me an excuse to kill her. Huh...
Heaving a sigh, Alistair pulled himself from leaning against Aedan's door and walked down the corridor to the room Wynne, Leliana and Solona shared. He lifted his hand to knock, but let it fall again, frowning.
The Broodmother had hit Solona the hardest psychologically. For a sheltered girl, and not even a Warden, to come face to face with something as monstrous as that, knowing full well that defeat meant being turned into something like that, it must have been mind boggling. The girl had been pale ever since the day they had left Caridin's Cross, having foiled Branka's plan of turning dwarves into golems.
Are all the people we're going to meet down the road psychopaths or something? What is wrong with this country?!
Sighing again, he rapped on the wooden door with his knuckles softly and waited for a moment. Nothing happened.
"Are they asleep or what?" he muttered under his breath and knocked again, this time fractionally louder. But again, nothing happened.
"Don't bother, they're asleep. At least, they were when I left"
Alistair turned his head to find Leliana approaching him from the other end of the corridor, followed by Sten. Both were clad in full battle regalia.
Not wanting to accidentally wake the sleeping mages by talking right outside the door, Alistair started walking towards the bard. "Did you two go to war or am I missing something again?"
Sten replied with a grunt before heading into the room he shared with Alistair, and shutting the door quietly, making the almost templar stroke his stubble. "He seems to be in a worse mood than usual," he said.
Leliana chuckled softly and leant up against the wall beside the door.
"I was just helping him find his sword."
"The sword he lost when his mates were killed?"
"Yeap."
"Huh. And how'd you know you'd find it here? In Orzammar?"
The redhead shrugged. "Back when we visited the Circle, we ran into a scavenger who told us that he had sold off a longsword to a trader in Orzammar."
"And I'm guessing – and this has nothing to do with the disappointed Qunari grunt from a few moments ago – that you didn't find it here?"
"No. The trader here said that he'd sold it off to another person at Redcliffe."
"Redcliffe, eh?" Alistair said distractedly before sighing and shaking his head. Forget about it. "Say are you tired? D'you need rest?"
Leliana blinked. "I... no, not really. Why do you ask?"
"Well I thought since we're leaving Orzammar first thing tomorrow, I'd take a walk." He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Just wanted to ask if you'd like to come along, is all."
It was much more than just a walk, but Alistair wanted it to be a surprise. Now if only she doesn't refuse...
And she didn't. Leliana smiled gently at him.
"Give me a moment while I go change, okay? I won't be more than five minutes."
Well. Better late than never.
But she wasn't late. True to her word, the bard slipped out of her room after having abandoned her chainmail and gambeson for a more comfortable light blue tunic and tan leggings. She had her daggers strapped to the hip, visible for all to see. Alistair found it somewhat scary how she never went anywhere unarmed.
"Shall we?" Leliana asked with a smile. Alistair nodded, and the pair made their way down the stairs to the bar, where they found Oghren chugging down ale, and then onwards to the streets of the Commons.
"So let me get this straight. Sten, the stoic and unsmiling Qunari extraordinaire, has asked you to help him find his old sword?" Alistair couldn't help but ask.
"He's not all big and stoic, you know? Sten has a very... dry sense of humour. And he's a softie."
"That last part. What's that about?"
"Mmmm. I found him picking flowers and shaking a piece of twine at a kitten."
Alistair burst out laughing, drawing looks from the dwarves. "Really now?"
The bard simply nodded. "The flowers he claimed were medicinal. He also claimed that he was training the kitten."
Oh Holy Maker...
"That is beautiful! Beautiful!"
"Indeed. But you heard nothing of this from me."
He crossed his arms over his chest in a solemn salute. "I am sworn to carry your secrets to the grave, milady," he told her, earning a playful punch to the bicep.
Everywhere they went, the gazes of the citizens followed them. They both felt it. Some clandestine, others not so much. As far as Alistair was concerned, it was to be expected after all that had transpired. Doesn't mean I have to get used to it.
Turning to Leliana, Alistair asked, "Still think Bhelen was the better choice?"
The bard offered a sad smile and reached out to give his upper arm a squeeze. She didn't say anything. That told Alistair all he needed to know.
Bhelen, with their support, had ascended the throne of Orzammar, and pledged his services to the Wardens. It was a big thing, having the dwarves back the campaign against the Blight. Faren and Oghren had even talked the Legion of the Dead into joining in. Which was all good.
The not so good part entailed Bhelen calling for the execution of the entire house of Harrowmont. Some five hundred dwarves, most of them having nothing to do with politics, were to be executed at the fastest convenient time because King Bhelen felt that the Harrowmonts would cause problems for his rule down the line if they were spared. Besides, he needed to solidify his seat by setting a clear example.
Aedan had disagreed, and argued against it vehemently. He was the son of Bryce bleeding Cousland, after all. Political smack talk was supposed to be his thing, but Bhelen had gently reminded him that the Wardens had no say in dwarven politics and that if he continued in this vein, he'd find himself without the support of the dwarven armies. Aedan had backed off at that. But he'd been bitter and depressed ever since. Alistair made a mental note to drag him down to dinner if he didn't show.
"So," Leliana asked after a short bout of silence. "Are we looking for golem dolls?"
"No, actually," Alistair replied as he strode down to Dust Town. Before she could prod him further, he decided to distract her with a question of his own. "How's Solona doing? Any better?"
"She was shaken very badly," the bard answered after a while, rubbing her forearm absently. "I can't say I blame her."
Alistair hummed, locking his hands behind his back. "Yeah, I know. Believe me, it wasn't a pretty sight for any of us."
"Mmmm. Solona's had a fever for a day. Wynne has confined her to bed. She's getting better though. She just needs rest."
"Will she be up for travel in the morrow?" Alistair asked while scanning the area for Jerren, the dwarf with the best nugs in all of Orzammar. It had been a week, after all. "Aedan doesn't want to hang around any longer than he has to, you know."
"She should be, I think. How is Aedan, by the way?"
"Depressed, I think. But then again, I can't say I blame him much, either."
"True enough."
By this point, Alistair had led Leliana right to where he had encountered Jerren the last time, and with a sigh of relief, he noted that the dwarf was indeed there, leant up against a wall, with a rather plump nug sniffing his foot. The warrior immediately turned to Leliana, who in turn was looking straight at the nug, a soft smile on her face.
"You like that nug?" asked Alistair. Leliana didn't respond, but nodded vehemently. Probably on the verge of squealing, he thought with a chuckle. Before responding to her, he looked over at Jerren again, who was grinning at him, and nodded once in acknowledgement.
"Guess what, Leli," he said cheekily. "It's yours."
There was pregnant pause while Leliana looked at him, blinked, looked over at the nug and then back at him again.
"I – what?"
The almost-templar sighed and placed his hand atop the girl's head, giving it a gentle pat. "That nug belongs to you. It's a gift. From me."
Alistair considered himself to be a humble person. He didn't have many wants, except for a steady supply of cheese for the rest of his life. But at that moment, when he saw Leliana's eyes widen and the stupefied expression on her face morph into an ear-to-ear grin, Alistair wished he could have preserved that image of her in the back of his mind for a long while yet.
That she engulfed him in a bear-hug soon after was an added bonus.
Leliana had her hands looped tightly around his waist, muttering what was babbled repetition of what sounded like: "Je t'aime! Tu es tellement gentil! Merci! Merci beacoup! Les mots me manquent. Merci, merci!"
He didn't understand a word, but he really loved the accent. I guess Orlesians do have some things going for them.
Alistair had never in his life been hugged by a woman before. A busty one at that, he thought with some very mild embarrassment even as his face heated up more than what was normal. Everybody said how hugs were nice and wonderful, but nobody mentioned how to handle the breasts being squished against his chest. They were both clad in comfortable tunics, so the experience was more... extreme.
I mean, it feels nice how they are so soft and all but... why am I thinking about this? Why? Distraction. Distraction!Topless Oghren topless Oghren topless Oghren topless Oghren... by Andraste's flaming knickers, it actually works!
His hands hovered awkwardly over her back and he wanted to return the hug, but was too scared to do anything. Instead, Alistair settled for patting the top of her head awkwardly.
The awkwardness didn't last very long – thankfully – as Leliana released him and skittered off to greet her new pet. Alistair stood there, flabbergasted, for a little while, unsure of what to do about his flaming face. Or the way his body and mind chose to react. Breathe deeply, Ali-bear. You can do it.
Jerren had come up to stand beside him, letting Leliana hug and squeal over the nug to her heart's content. Alistair sighed and dug into his coin purse.
"That your woman?"
The coin purse fell from Alistair's trembling fingertips.
"What? No! She's just a friend! A good friend. I know her well. Not that well! Of course she's not my woman! That's preposterous! Asinine! That was the first time we've hugged even, for the Maker's sake!"
"Whoa whoa! Calm down there, buddy," the dwarf said with an amused chuckle. "That's too much information. I was just curious, that's all."
Riiiiight. False alarm.
Bidding his heart to stop hammering against his chest, Alistair knelt by his fallen pouch and counted out twenty silvers before depositing the coins into the palms of the dwarf.
"Thanks for the business, boss," Jerren said as Alistair rose to his feet.
"I should be thanking you, actually."
Just then, Leliana's voice could be heard from the distance: "He nips! You're hungry, aren't you? Ohhh look at him! He's snuffling me! Snooffle snooffle~!" This was followed by something of a cross between a girlish giggle and a squeal.
"You surfacers have weird fancies, taking a nug for a pet," Jerren muttered as he and Alistair both watched the redhead rub her face against the nug's. "Worth the silver?"
Alistair pondered on that one for a bit. True, Leliana was among the treasured few good friends he had. She was radiant and beautiful and was always trying to cheer people up. Just really damn nice. It was... a rarity, seeing something as beautiful as that amidst all the darkness.
Was paying twenty silvers to bring a smile to that person, to give her something she'd really enjoy and appreciate, worth it?
Taking in a deep breath, the blond man exhaled out of his nose, smiling as Leliana walked back towards them, carrying the nug in her arms, a big smile on her face.
"Damn straight."