Chapter 79) Memorials of Ostagar
Nuada POV
"Guests at the gates! Guests at the gates!" Elspeth and I looked at each other in confusion as the guards shouted the words. We didn't know what was going on. Was this some Fereldan custom? We didn't know. We had only been in Fereldan for a few days. 'Home' didn't feel like home when you had no memories of the place. "Guests at the gates!"
Slowly, Elspeth and I headed for the front gates. She hid behind me, and I put on my smile. It was how things always were when we were in strange places. This was probably the strangest, because it wasn't 'supposed' to be strange. Everyone expected us to be perfectly fine, perfectly at home, and they seemed to forget that Fereldan was as 'unknown' as Orlais or Nevarra had been.
When we arrived, we heard Fergus laughing. It was his real laugh, the one that was too loud and made him smile too widely for 'proper company'. We saw him hugging a blonde man, about the same age, grinning widely as he chatted about something.
"Yes, I'm going to get a huge lecture, and I don't care. They're coming to see you all anyway, so what's the problem with me riding ahead?" The blonde had a light, cheerful voice, friendly as a puppy. But I could see the intelligence in his eyes, all but hidden behind the warmth, and figured he had ridden ahead for other purposes than simple 'rebellion'.
"I'm not protecting you this time," Fergus teased. He glanced over and smiled warmly when he saw Elspeth and me. "Anyway, come here, Cailan, and meet my siblings." He tugged the man over. "Elspeth, Nuada, this is Cailan, my best friend, and prince of Fereldan." Oh, the person Fergus always wrote letters to.
"It's nice to formally meet you to!" Cailan laughed. His hug was surprising, and warm. "Welcome to Fereldan. I hope you will learn to love it." …He… acknowledged Elspeth and I didn't know Fereldan…? "Has anyone shown you the cliffs yet? They're the best view of the sea."
…I adored him. I adored that he didn't just assume things. I was glad he was Fergus's best friend.
He had blonde hair, green eyes. There was a scar under his left ear, a mole on his neck. He was freckled, and wore a simple string-pendant necklace. I noted it all down, took the pendant to place with the paper, and moved on to the next one.
It felt wrong, just leaving. Yes, we didn't have much information to find here, but there were the dead, and they deserved to be given proper rights. They deserved to be identified. So, we were going through the dead, one by one, writing down anything and everything that could be used for identification.
There were just so many, though. It would take years to figure out who died, who was missing, and who had escaped. That was assuming there would ever be closure.
Sighing, I rubbed at my eye, starting to strain from so much squinting. I had volunteered to venture into the Wilds, to see if I could find any who had ventured out here, and perished amongst the trees. Most bodies I found were ripped apart and half-eaten. Even the one I had just noted down had been missing his legs.
I leaned against a tree, looking up at the leafless branches. It was so quiet here. It hadn't been this quiet, last time. Then again, that might have been because of the huge group. Layla, Aiden, Cleon, Alistair, Jory, Daveth, and me… we must have been so loud. Had that time only been a few months ago? It felt so long. Back then, I had both my eyes. Back then, I didn't have this burning 'thrum' in my veins, twisting and turning, practically begging me to cut loose. I thought I had a bad temper before, but now… I could see why Mother always said she'd ground Fergus forever if he considered being a Reaver. If I let myself slip, even for a moment, I could become a monster easily.
That wasn't a fun thought. It also wasn't a fun thought to know that Layla had been scared. She'd smiled at me, but I knew I had scared her. I was certain I scared the others. I had scared myself. I would really have to be careful.
The sound of branches snapping made me look up, wondering if some animal was venturing close, to see what sort of idiot meandered into the woods on his own. I held still, not in the mood to run. Besides, most predators tended to slink away when you faced them and showed no weaknesses.
"Well, well… what do we have here?" I had to fight to roll my eyes when Flemeth stepped out of the shadows. She wore mage robes this time, though she kept the old lady appearance. "I must say; I wasn't expecting to see you in the Wilds," she continued with a little chuckle. "My, what an adventure you've had."
"That's one way to put it, my Lady Flemeth," I deadpanned. She simply laughed. "Were you curious about the little adventurer stumbling through your woods?"
"A little, yes." She stepped a little closer, studying me closely. "There's dragon's power in you, and you've lost an eye." I think I was aware of that. "You do indeed remind me of Sarim."
"What? Did the finder of House Cousland lose an eye and become a Reaver too?" That would be ridiculous.
"Well, he lost the eye. I took it from him, when he was preventing me from inflicting my wrath on anyone but his lord." She smiled slowly. "Kind man. He let me kill Conobar, only stopping me when I turned my vengeance elsewhere."
"I'm so pleased to hear that."
"Yes, don't mind an old woman's ramblings." She chuckled again, low and soft. "So, you returned to Ostagar, and dealt with the necromancer. A good thing. I was trying to determine if it was worth bothering with."
"Well, I appreciate the necromancer not bringing back the dead." I clenched my fists as I remembered fighting 'Uncle Duncan'. That had just been… "What would have happened if it brought the archdemon back or something?"
"Oh, the archdemon can do that itself." …What did she just…? "There is a reason why the First Blight lasted so long." She stepped back, watching me like a predator, hunting for any weakness to pounce on. "There are plenty of soldiers strong enough, skilled enough, lucky enough to shove a sword through a skull, but the archdemon simply jumps its soul to another darkspawn, and transforms it into its image."
"So, like how you are said to…?"
"Yes, just like what some legends say of me." She laughed, crossing her arms and smiling wide. It looked more like bared fangs. "Ressurective immortality. They can die, but they are reborn."
"Blights end. Archdemons are slain."
"Yes, indeed. But note who kills the Archdemon. Always, without fail." …It was always a Warden. "A bit of information, since you could not find any."
"What do I pay for it?"
"Nothing." …I didn't believe that. "You are putting the dead to rest, and you killed the necromancer that was bothering me. This is in exchange for that." That I could believe. "And now, I have a favor for you."
"Oh?" Well, this just got interesting. "What is it?"
"I want you to deliver this book to Morrigan." She conjured up a heavy book and passed it to me. "It is her… inheritance, shall we say?" She laughed. "I want to see what she will do, without my presence lingering over her."
"So, you want me to lie to Morrigan that you're dead." I gave her my most exasperated look. "My Lady Flemeth, I am flattered, but you severely overestimate my lying skills if you think I can come up with a plausible way you died."
"Why have it be a lie?" Magic flickered at her fingertips. "Just tell her I got bored." What was she-? "I'll find her later, when I'm in my new body. Oh, but don't tell her that part, okay?"
I didn't even have time to be shocked as she turned her magic on herself, ripping apart her body like it was just a bit of old clothes she no longer cared for. So, I could only watch as the pieces thumped to the ground, blood splattering the trees and pooling in the snow.
…She really had the largest dramatic streak.
I decided that Flemeth dramatically destroying herself in front of me was a good sign to just return to Ostagar and give up on trying to find anyone else in the Wilds. I slid the book into my pack to give to Morrigan later and then went to help the others. Layla seemed to notice something was wrong, as she made a point to give me a kiss on the cheek as we all worked. I made sure to snag her hand and kiss it, just to make her blush.
At some point, though, Oghren and Shale got Cailan down. Someone found his armor. I didn't know who, and I honestly didn't care. Instead, Alistair and I silently did our best to snap all the pieces of the armor on. Alistair insisted on putting clothes on him before the armor, probably so that Cailan wasn't just lying there naked while we tried to figure out how he got his damn armor on in the first place. We used his spare shirt and trousers.
"I saw him six months before Ostagar," Alistair murmured at some point. "Cailan, I mean." We had been quiet, letting the snow gently fall on us, putting Cailan's armor on him one piece at a time. "There was a tournament in honor of Duncan, and I competed in it. I lost badly, but Duncan saw something in me. I still don't really know what."
"A good heart, likely," I answered absently. Cailan, how did you ever get these things on? It was far more complicated than mine. …Then again, the cold and snow were making my fingers clumsy. There was also a shaking I knew was due to be desperately trying to not break down in tears. "Wardens do what they must, but if they don't have a good heart, then they quickly become as monstrous as the darkspawn in the name of 'saving the world'."
"Ha, maybe… it could also just be that he saw how miserable I was as a templar." He fell silent again. "It was announced in front of everyone that I would be recruited. The Grand Cleric pitched a fit, but Duncan called Right of Conscription to get me. I remember being startled. No one had ever fought to keep me." Eamon, I could still punch you for that. I understood, but I still could, and I knew he would understand why I was mad. "As Duncan led me out, I glanced back at Cailan. I knew he was there. I hadn't really seen him since we were children, and I wondered what he thought, looking at me. If he'd even known we were related."
"What did you see?"
"He was looking right at me. Proud, but also like he was ready to cry. I still don't know why." His hand shook as he worked on the last strap. "I told myself that I would ask when I saw him again. Then I did, and I told myself I'd ask after the battle. I'm really good at running away."
"I wish I could help, but Cailan's preferred confidant was Fergus. I listened when Fergus wasn't around." I glanced up at him, stepping back from Cailan's body. "You can ask him when we're in Denerim."
"…Yeah, I think I will." Alistair sighed and stepped back too. "There we go."
"Yeah…" I glanced at him. "Cailan was the one who suggested you go to the beacon, by the way." When he didn't reply, I looked up to the Tower. We had been up there, when… "Loghain was just going to send me, but Cailan insisted. So, I definitely think he knew about you. When we talked afterwards, he called you 'one of the best', so he also held you in high regard."
"Maybe he was lying to explain why he sent me."
"No, I always know… knew… when Cailan lied. He truly believed it." I looked back to him. "I don't know what to make of the information, or how you should react, but it seemed like something to tell you. Maybe it'll make whatever Fergus says more believable."
"Maybe." He gave me a small, bitter smile, and I returned it with one of my own. "Regardless, let's get moving him…"
"Right." Cailan was heavy. It took both of us working together to carry him over to the others.
We set him down next to what remained of Uncle Duncan. I winced as I looked at the bloodless injuries I inflicted. I wished I had been a little neater about ending the fight, but at least he was still mostly recognizable? I could hear him laughing, reassuring me that things were okay.
My eyes flitted down to his weapons, resting by his side. His sword and dagger had been dug out of the Risen Ogre. Traditionally, a warrior's weapons would be given away. I should… ah, yes, I knew who to give these to.
I scooped them up, checking for any damage. There was nothing that couldn't be fixed with a good sharpen, so I passed them to Alistair and Layla. Alistair, practically a son to Uncle Duncan, would get his sword. Layla, the first of us four he recruited, would get his dagger.
They both looked very confused, but seemed to shrug it off as me being weird. Alistair did smile softly as looked at the blade, probably glad to just have something of Uncle Duncan's. But the smile faded as we joined the others up on the hill. Down below us was Ostagar, all the bodies lined up next to each other. In our packs were large stacks of paper and personal items, gathered from each one of the dead. Now, there was only one thing left that we could do for them…
Wynne was the one who cast the spell, setting all of Ostagar on fire. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust… Fereldans burned their dead, and so we were giving them a proper send-off at last.
Layla leaned into me as we watched the flames devour the remains of the camp, the bodies lined up neat little lines. I wrapped my arm around her waist, tugging her just a little closer, and resting my cheek against her hair.
When Cailan and Uncle Duncan disappeared into ash, I had to close my eyes, unable to stop the silent tears. Goodbye, everyone. Please, rest easily, wherever your spirits ended up.
Author's Note: So, part of Morrigan's companion quest, setting Cailan and the rest of Ostagar to rest, divvying up Duncan's weapons… basically just putting Ostagar behind them.
Next Chapter – Keep with Cleon
