Part 2: On the Vast Abyss
She dreams of a song that has no lyrics. It calls to her in her sleep, to follow it down into a place she does not know. She wants to answer, but there are no words to do so.
It is always shrouded in darkness. But she feels eyes on her. The gaze feels old, like it sees straight through her, as though she is nothing before it.
When Ren wakes, she feels tired and stretched thin. Like there is too little of her to fit inside of her own skin.
Her arm burns. The wound has closed, but it is an angry red line tinged with black. Crawling up her arm is a network of black vines, edging closer and closer to her heart with each passing day. Ren catches the way Duncan's eyes linger on it. That's what alerts her that this is not normal. Within her, the taint curdles; an outwardly visible corruption that spreads slowly across her flesh.
There is no hiding it.
They're pushing the horses too far, too fast, Ren believes, but there is no other option. Duncan is now more anxious than ever to reach Ostagar, where his remaining recruits await for the Joining to be administered. Ren is now counted amongst their ranks. They must reach the outpost quickly, before the taint spreads too far.
Ren is afraid to ask what will happen if they arrive too late.
Duncan has told her to tell him how it spreads, but from the tone of his voice, Ren is aware that it's not spreading the way it should. The slow, visible corruption is unnatural. It spreads through her veins, spreading black roots across her skin, emanating outwards from the initial infection site.
It heals well, but not cleanly. There will be a scar, long and jagged stretching from the base of her hand towards her elbow. For now, it's grey-tinted skin out of which spreads a spider's web of black lines.
They're not tender to the touch. In fact, pressing on them doesn't hurt at all. Ren's a little surprised at that, because she thought that such a visible sign of her being tainted by the Blight would hurt and wrack her with near constant pain.
It's nothing like that. There's a constant ache deep in her bones, but that could be from the hard pace of their travel. Ren's quickly learned the meaning behind 'saddle-sore' and just how weary long travel makes you. When they reach Ostagar, Ren's certain that she's going to be walking funny.
The only other sign that she's been tainted are the nightmares that come every night. The song she hears in her dreams that she can still hear phantom echoes of when she wakes in the grey light of early morning. It's getting louder with each day, calling to her, whispering to her in words she doesn't know or understand; the language of it is old, much more than she is, and it sends a cold chill down her spine.
She's able to keep track of the spread of the corruption for a simple reason: whenever they make camp, Ren insists upon finding some clean body of water to bathe in. Duncan thinks it's ridiculous and tries to gently discourage her, but Ren is insistent. Speaking practically, it's a way for her to see how far the Blight's taint has spread; it also keeps her from smelling something awful.
Plus, Ren takes comfort in being clean. It helps her rest a little more easily, which she desperately needs. Waking in the morn, feeling exhausted and stretched thin is an unpleasant feeling in and of itself, made worse by having a layer of grime upon her skin. After she bathes, she feels refreshed and much more like herself.
She explains as much to Duncan, who relents. So long as it doesn't impede upon their travels, her little oddities can be forgiven and tolerated. Her insistence on her own cleanliness is apparently just another mark against her that she is an 'other' here.
Bathing in rivers is cold and Ren scampers back from it quickly and huddles shivering beside the fire until her skin warms up, but she'd rather be chilled and clean than filthy and warm. It's weird, but she can live with it.
If only she could deal with the dreams as easily.
Ostagar is a ruin. Albeit, it's one that is swarming with activity and people, which makes it very different from the one which Ren first awoke in. The style of it is quite different too, which Ren takes to mean that they were constructed by very different peoples. Still, Ostagar itself remains a foreboding sight.
It also stinks to high heaven of shit, sweat, and unwashed bodies. With the added bonus of the scent of wet dog. It's a truly charming combination.
Ren fights the urge to wrinkle her nose. It's unlikely she'll find anything resembling decent bathing facilities here, but she can make do. It's late in the evening, she'd like the chance to wash herself before falling into a pallet or bed roll for a few hours to rest. The nightmares haven't stopped, but they're not getting worse, so Ren is willing to count that as a tiny victory.
Their horses are picketed with a collection of others across the bridge that leads into the main body of the camp. Duncan tells her that the large building near there is called the Tower of Ishal, constructed alongside the main body of the fortress by the Tevinter Imperium many centuries before to guard against the barbarians who live in the southern wilds.
It's late in the evening when they arrive. The sky above them is painted in varying shades of rich purple and deep pink. If she was in a better mood, Ren would stop as they cross the bridge to admire it and the accompanying view, but she's much more concerned with finding somewhere vaguely horizontal to lie down on and sleep for the next few hours.
"Ho, Duncan! My scouts reported your approach; you were away longer than we expected!"
The man who stops them just as they enter camp is tall, fair haired and in richly decorated golden armour. He's taller than even Duncan, grinning, and there's a definite bounce in his step as he comes over to greet the two of them.
"Your majesty," Duncan says. He bows. "I apologize for my delay."
Ren has enough sense and memory to realize that this must be Cailan, Ferelden's king. She manages to drop into a curtsy without falling on her face and murmurs a quiet greeting. Her legs feel like they're made of jelly; she's been riding for too long.
"No need for apologies, Duncan," he claps Duncan on the shoulder and smiles. "It's good that you have returned; we can hardly launch our great battle against the darkspawn without our Warden Commander."
Cailan is dressed richly in the attire of a king-at-arms, but Ren doesn't think that he fits the image too well with his soft and open face. He's full of excitement, gesturing animatedly as he talks and grinning at Duncan with stars in his eyes.
"There is still the chance that the Archdemon–"
"None of the scout's reports have brought news of the Archdemon and it certainly hasn't been seen amongst the hoard. I doubt that this is actually a Blight; there's plenty of darkspawn, to be sure, but nothing to indicate that this is anything but a particularly large surface raid."
Duncan nods, but his mouth is set in a thin line. Ren thinks it's rather obvious that he's annoyed by Cailan's blaisé attitude towards the darkspawn threat, but he won't say anything out of respect for the throne. Ren herself is only vaguely aware of what an Archdemon is, but she knows better than to take the threat of it lightly.
"If you are that concerned about this, Duncan, then you should speak with Loghain. He's taking our plans for the coming battle very seriously," Cailan says. His gaze shifts, then, from Duncan to Ren.
Ren feels a lot like a deer startled by hunters. She tries to school her expression back to something pleasantly blank, rather than looking like a very panicked owl. She quickly looks to her feet, hands tightening into fists at her sides. Fear is probably not a very good reaction to have, but it's the instinctual one.
"And who is this lovely young lady?" Cailan asks. His smile is too wide, eyes dark, as he looks her over from the top of her head to the hem of her dress and back again. "I hadn't thought that you were interested in a wife, Duncan."
"She's not my wife, your majesty. This is her highness, Kerensa Fraser, one of our new recruits for the Grey Wardens."
"Fraser, you say? That's not a family I'm familiar with. Where in Ferelden do you hail from?"
"I'm not from Ferelden, your majesty," Ren replies. "I found myself here after I was… taken from my home. I'm uncertain of how I arrived here in Ferelden."
"You were kidnapped?" Cailan, for his part, sounds absolutely mortified. "You have my most sincere apologies. I hope that until you can return, that you may call my country home. Perhaps when this business is over, you could settle at my court for a time? At least until arrangements can be made for your safe return."
Ren thinks that it's a good thing her hood and the fading light of day hide much of her face in shadow, for she's all too aware of the tendrils of corruption spreading across her skin.
"I thank you for your offer of hospitality, your majesty," Ren replies. "However, I must respectfully decline, as Duncan has already promised to see me safely home."
"Of course," Cailan says. "I'm certain that Duncan will do a fine job. Still, I hope that you will be able to look back on your time here fondly. Or, well, as fondly as is possible."
His eyes are still lingering on Ren, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Even though she's completely dressed, Ren feels quite naked under his stare and has to resist the urge to wrap her arms around herself for protection. Her hands are trembling at her side, clenched tightly into fists and she's surprised that her hands haven't started bleeding from how hard her nails are pressing into her palms.
"Your majesty, it has been a long day's travel for us both. Perhaps we can speak more tomorrow? Once she and I have had time to rest."
Ren has never been more grateful to Duncan. She could kiss him. She won't, but she feels like she could.
"Of course," Cailan demures. His smile isn't quite right as he steps aside, hand lingering just above the small of Ren's back as he turns to escort them into camp. Instead he, much to Ren's internal alarm, offers her his arm. "Then please, allow me to escort you, princess."
"Thank you," Ren says, quietly. She takes Cailan's arm and averts her eyes as demurely as she can. She realizes quickly that's a mistake, because she hears Cailan chuckle and her cheeks warm. This isn't something that she was prepared for.
Luckily, Duncan falls into step beside her and Ren takes some small comfort in the closeness of his presence. She certainly feels safer with him there.
"You may have my tent for the night," Duncan says. "I will retire with one of the other Wardens. There is certainly space aplenty, given that we are so few in number."
Ren nods and murmurs her gratitude quietly. The bright gold of Cailan's gauntlet feels cool against her hand and she tries to focus on that. Alright, she's in over her head. Maybe letting Duncan run with the idea that she is a lost princess was a bad idea after all; Ren's not certain that she's prepared for this level of… attention that Cailan's giving her. She isn't so sure that her little masquerade can hold up under intense scrutiny.
Luckily, it isn't far from the bridge to the Grey Warden section of the army's encampment. Their tents are all emblazoned with the image of what Ren now knows is a griffon and they're arranged in a small circle around a large, blazing fire. Duncan directs her to the largest of the collection of tents.
Carefully, Ren pulls away from Cailan and offers him her best curtsy. This time, though, she meets his eyes almost defiantly. She will not be cowed by this man. She will not be afraid and she will not be used.
"Thank you again, your majesty, for your hospitality and generous welcome," Ren says. It's a fight to keep the tremble out of her voice.
Cailan's smiling again, "You are quite welcome, your highness."
He takes her hand in his much larger one, making quite the show of bowing over it and brushing his lips against her knuckles. Ren resists the urge to jerk her hand back, keeping her face a mask of cool indifference.
"I hope that I will see you again tomorrow before the battle."
Ren has a pretty good idea of what Cailan would like to happen and she'd rather suffer through another week of trudging through the wilderness with the damn awful nightmares. She keeps that to herself, though, and offers Cailan a cool smile before bidding him and Duncan a good night and retreating to Duncan's tent.
The interior of the tent is fairly spacious, Ren thinks. Or, it is as far as tents go and she's a terrible judge because this is the first one that she's actually been in. But it has a cot along one side, a curtain to change behind, and thank whatever higher power is out there, because there's a small table with a cloth and wash basin on it.
It's not the same as an actual bath, but Ren would rather wash herself with a cloth then go out into the camp and try and find somewhere else to bathe. Especially not with the way that Cailan watches her.
Ren strips down to her shift, carefully folding her dress and laying it on an empty stool. She splashes cold water on her face and dabs at her skin, feeling marginally better for it. Once she's as clean as she can manage with the lacklustre bathing facilities on offer, Ren makes a beeline for the cot.
It feels like heaven after the long days and nights of tossing on the ground. Ren's asleep as soon as she pulls the blankets over her.
Ren emerges from Duncan's tent the next morning feeling a little more refreshed and less saddlesore than she did the night before. Duncan is at the fire in the centre of the little circle of Grey Warden tents, speaking in hushed tones to who she can only assume is another Warden or messenger. It's late in the morning, for the sun has clearly been up for some time, but the chill still hangs in the air.
She waits until Duncan finishes his conversation, waiting a respectful distance so as not to eavesdrop, before approaching him.
"Ah, good, you're awake. Did you sleep well?"
Ren shrugs, "As well as could be expected."
Duncan nods, "We will be holding the Joining later today and you should prepare yourself. There's a young Grey Warden in the camp, by the name of Alistair. He will be supervising your Joining; I recommend that you speak with him and let him know to gather the other recruits."
"Alright then, I'll find him then. Do you–"
Ren is cut off when another Grey Warden comes up to Duncan, asking him something or other about some detail of the battle. Duncan makes a little waving gesture at her and Ren knows enough to figure that means that she's dismissed. She has no idea who this Alistair is, where to find him, or even what he looks like. This… could be a problem.
Leaving behind the small circle of tents belonging to the Wardens, Ren finds that the camp is bustling with activity. It's full of people, practically pulsing with life and an energy that's all its own. The majority of the people she sees milling about are in armour and human, though she spots a couple of elves scattered about.
Elves. Their pointed ears remind Ren of the ruins she awoke in. The pieces click together. The ruins she woke in were elvish.
It doesn't make much difference now, though, because they're long behind her and she won't be returning there ever. Just thinking of the place brings back that chill and Ren shivers. No, she won't be going back there ever again, not even for all the answers that she doesn't have.
She winds her way through the camp, trying to find someone who will stop for long enough for her to ask about this Warden she's supposed to be looking for. No one, though, will stop long enough to let her ask a question. There is a lot of bowing, a lot of "your highness," and a whole host of other small pleasantries that Ren doesn't care about.
Just when she's about to give up on finding anyone, a tall man with dark hair and a heavily lined face steps in front of her. He's heavily armoured and, like Duncan, his face seems set in a permanently grim expression, though on him it's certainly much more disdainful.
"You must be the Grey Warden princess that I have heard so much about," he says. His eyes drag up her body slowly, from the muddied hem of her dress to the hood pulled carefully up over her hair. The corner of his mouth, if possible, twitches down further.
"I… I suppose that I am," Ren blinks, slowly. Then she remembers her manners and curtsies to him politely, "My name is Kerensa Fraser. It's a pleasure to meet you, ser."
He crosses his arms and, if possible, looks even more disdainful then he did before, "I am Loghain."
"Ser Loghain," Ren says. "As I said, it's a pleasure to meet you, but I'm actually supposed to be looking for Warden Alistair. If you could point me in his direction, I would appreciate it greatly."
"You'll likely find him harassing the mages again," Loghain replies. He's already turning away from her, dismissal written in every gesture. "Now, if you excuse me your highness, some of us have actual duties that must be seen to before this coming battle."
With that, Loghain turns on his heel and leaves. Ren watches him go, feeling much colder than she did when she first woke up. She's not sure which is worse: Loghain's clear and apparent disdain for her; or Cailan's overtly unwanted interest in her. Maybe playing along with Duncan's assumption that she's kidnapped royalty wasn't such a good idea. It's too late for her to deny it, though, so that's what Ren will have to live with.
Ren sighs. None of that's important right now. She's still no closer to finding this Alistair that she's supposed to be looking for. She also has no idea what he looks like, which makes it harder. Even with Loghain's little 'clue', she doesn't actually know where the mages are to begin looking for him.
Fuck. This.
Wandering through an army camp is not exactly how Ren wants to spend her morning. Each person she stops to try and ask for directions either brushes her off because they have somewhere to be or tells her to ask someone else. There's a battle to be fought, Ren understands that, but at the very least someone should be able to pause for a few seconds to point her in the right direction!
Finally, she gets fed up with the cold shoulder.
She spots a young, dark-haired man who is coming out of a tent and strides up to him, trying to be as confident as she possibly can be. Ren stops a little shy of him, putting on her best bright smile and trying to appear as though she's used to power and being obeyed; she's pretty sure she's failing epically at it.
"Hello," Ren says. "Can you help me? I seem to be a bit… lost."
He has to have the brightest blue eyes Ren has ever seen, which compliment his dark hair perfectly. He looks young, too, far too much so to be here and, from the looks of the sword he's casually slung over his shoulder, fighting in this battle to come. Still, that's not her place and she says nothing more on the subject.
"Y-your highness," he says, cheeks flushing, and falls into a bow. "I'm at your service. How can I help you?"
"For one, you don't need to do that," Ren says. Her own face feels hot and his bow has drawn quite a lot of stares and whispers. "And, um, as for helping me, I'm trying to find a Grey Warden named Alistair, but no one has been able to tell me where I might find him."
He looks uncomfortable, which isn't surprising given how Ren has just sprung this on him, but he rallies surprisingly quickly, "I'm not familiar with any of the Wardens; they usually don't come this far into the camp. I doubt that you'll find who you're looking for here."
Ren sighs and crosses her arms, trying not to look too dejected. She bites her lip, her eyes burning but she will not cry; that means weakness and it's not like she's actually sad, she's just very frustrated. Taking a deep, shaking breath, Ren tries to steady herself. Loghain said something about mages, though where the mages are, she has no idea.
"I can escort you back to the Warden encampment," the young man offers. He looks so earnest, too, wide-eyed and sweet, eyes bright blue like the sky at midday.
"Thank you," Ren says, smiling. "I'm afraid I don't think I could find my way back on my own."
The two of them fall into step easily, making their way back through the camp. Ren hadn't realized just how large the camp was, but it spills out of the ruins of the fortress itself in a sea of tents and people. It would be nice to have the chance to look around and actually become familiar with the camp, but this isn't the time for aimless wandering.
"Here," the young man says, gently touching Ren's elbow as they pass under a massive crumbling arch. "The Grey Warden encampment is just beyond the officers' tents. Can you find it from here?"
Ren recognizes the bright colours of the royal tents and nods. She turns to her guide with a smile, "Thank you so much…?"
"Carver," he replies. "Carver Hawke."
"Ser Carver," she says. "Thank you for bringing me back. I don't want to keep you from your duties much longer, but could you maybe point me to where I would find the mages? The Warden I'm supposed to be looking for might be there."
Carver blinks and then points at another collection of tents across the ruins from where they entered, "I don't know why he'd be there, but if you're looking for the mages compound then it's just over there – past where the army Chantry is."
"Thanks again," Ren says. "I really do appreciate your help, Ser Carver. If there's anything I can do to help you, please let me know and I'll help you however I'm able. Just ask."
"I," Carver stares at her, his cheeks turning an incredibly bright shade of red. He looks away from her for a moment, before he looks back and gives her a crooked smile, "I will, your highness. I mean, thank you – I'm happy that I could help you."
"Good luck, Ser Carver. I hope I'll see you again when this is over."
She parts ways with Carver there, who turns to return to the general area of the camp while Ren makes her way towards where he indicated that the mage encampment is. Hopefully, that's where she'll find this Warden Alistair and find out about whatever this Joining ritual entails.
There's a very small part of Ren that wants to stop and try to sneak a peek at the mages, just to see what they're like. But the imposing men in plate armour emblazoned with what is definitely meant to be a blazing sword give her a look like she's some nasty, half-drowned creature that just dragged itself out of a swamp and she keeps walking. She saw the way that their eyes glowed from behind the shadows of their helmets, which only adds to their sinister look.
Past the group of colourful tents decorated with a symbol that Ren doesn't know the meaning of, she comes to a large stone ramp that leads up into what may have been some grand meeting hall – or maybe a dining hall – many centuries before. Emerging into it, she notices to her left a large wooden table at one end, around which a great number of people bustle to and fro. At the other end of the hall, upon another level altogether, there's a solitary pair of men.
Ren can't get a good look at one, for her view is of his back, but she recognizes the Grey Wardens' griffon upon his shield. This, Ren hopes, must be Alistair.
Alistair is dressed in what Ren thinks is fairly light armour, shield casually slung across his shoulder with his sword sheathed at his left hip. She has a terrible view of him from behind, but from what she can make out, he's perhaps a half-head taller than she is and fair-haired.
While Alistair's posture is casual, the man he's talking to stands ramrod straight – a bit like he has the world's largest stick lodged up his ass – and wearing dark robes. Though he has no staff at hand, Ren's quite certain that he's a mage.
"Your glibness does you no credit," the mage spits. The air about him ripples for a moment, turning varying shades of sparkling indigo, which quickly fades. If looks alone could kill, Ren's certain that Alistair would be little more than a pile of ash on the ground. Or a toad.
The mage storms past Alistair and then nearly knocks Ren to the ground. He shoulders past her roughly, face looking like a bee just stung him, and grumbling about just where the Grey Wardens can 'fucking shove their bloody taint'.
"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Ren asks.
"Not at all," he replies. His grin is a little crooked, tugging up one side of his mouth more than the other. "It's a marvelous thing, the Blight – for how it brings us together. Anyway, I'm sorry, I don't think I've met you before."
Ren's still stuck on the joke. It takes her a minute to remember herself and she manages a fumbling cursty, "Right. I'm Kerensa, but Ren works fine. I'm also really hoping that you're Warden Alistair."
"Oh! You're Duncan's new recruit, then. Yes, I'm Alistair; sorry, I should have recognized you sooner. You've been the talk of the camp, you know."
Right at that moment, Ren would be perfectly fine if the ground opened up and swallowed her whole. Instead, she settles for burying her face in her hand, "I'd rather not know. But I guess it can't be avoided."
"Not every day that a beautiful foreign princess arrives to join the ranks of the Grey Wardens. From what I've heard, Cailan is particularly taken with you. I'm not sure that Loghain approves."
Her cheeks are still flaming hot against her hands, into which she mutters, "Don't remind me about that; I'm trying to forget."
"I don't think that's quite how it works."
"We're not having this conversation."
"I think it's a bit late for that," Alistair says and he's laughing now. Ren drags her hands down her face enough that she can peek at him from between her fingers.
"This is not funny," she says, trying to sound as stern as she possibly can. "He is married and I'm definitely not interested."
"You know, it's funny, but I don't actually think that's stopped him before. The first part, I mean, with the whole 'he's married' bit. The 'not interested' part would probably only give him pause."
"I'm never going to live this down, am I?"
"Likely not, no."
"I'm not interested in a – a," Ren fumbles for the word she's looking for, feeling like it's on the tip of her tongue; then realization hits her like a bolt of lightning, "Bloody skirt chaser."
Alistair's face is still alight with mirth and his grin, if anything, has just gotten bigger, "Not that this isn't an enlightening conversation, but I'm assuming that you're not here to gossip with me about his majesty."
Ren drops her hands from her face, relief soaking through her at the change of subject, "No, Duncan said I was supposed to find you. He said something about my Joining?"
"Right," Alistair says. He straightens his shoulders, "Since I'm the newest Grey Warden, I'll be overseeing your Joining. There's two other recruits here presently that will be undertaking it alongside you, we should go find them and let them know it's time."
He offers Ren his arm, which she takes only a little hesitantly. When she takes it, he smiles at her reassuringly, "So… you're not from Ferelden?"
"No."
"I've never left Ferelden," Alistair tells her conversationally. "You must have seen some interesting sights."
"Not really. I've never actually… been outside before?"
It's only after it comes out of her mouth that Ren realizes that there's probably a better way she could have phrased that. As it is, she sounds like a hopelessly sheltered idiot – which is exactly what she's pretending to be and completely is but still.
Alistair, though, laughs, "Really?"
"That came out wrong," Ren says, frowning. "Obviously, I've been outside before. I've just never left my home before – I've never seen the world. This is all very new to me."
"And you decided that the best way to see the world was to join the Grey Wardens?"
"No, that was…" She bites her lip, weighs the possibilities and decides to hell with it all because secrets like this always have a habit of coming out at the worst time. Best to be upfront and honest, "Did Duncan tell you about what happened when we left Denerim?"
"An attack from a small raiding party of darkspawn," Alistair replies, frowning. "I'm not one of the senior Wardens, so…"
No one's been paying them much attention, but Ren glances around quickly nonetheless. The camp is so busy that there's no reason to pay attention to either of them, and people mill past them without a second glance. Carefully, she tugs her hood back and sweeps her hair behind her ear, revealing the long black tendrils that have spread up the side of her neck.
She knows Alistair sees it because she can feel him tense under where her hand is tucked into his elbow.
"It happened after we left Denerim," Ren says quietly, staring at the muddied hem of her dress. "I'm tainted now. Duncan gave me the choice to join the Grey Wardens… and so I am."
She looks back up at him now and smiles, though she's aware it's a thin one, "No matter what happens, I'm seeing this out to the end. I have to."
"And I'll make sure you do," Alistair says. He places his hand over her own, still tucked in his elbow, and squeezes it, "You have my word, your highness. I'll see you through."
Her heart does a funny little pitter-patter in her chest, stomach fluttering, "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it." Alistair glances away after a few moments, sun-browned cheeks turning a little pink, "Now, we should find the other recruits. We've got a lot to do before tonight."
"Right."
Even with Alistair beside her, Ren feels more than little out of place in her mud-spattered dress. There are other women in the camp, she's noticed, but the majority of those she's seen have been dressed for war just as the men they pass. Some wear the familiar flame-embossed robes of the Chantry, though beyond that Ren has little idea of what role they serve.
The pair of them stop at the quartermaster's little alcove. Ren can smell something sulphurous, a foul stench that makes her nose wrinkle. It's almost worse than the stench of unwashed bodies.
"… your pretty little head could be riding on a pike in just a few hours," a dark-haired man is saying to a young woman. "Why not enjoy the time we've got?"
Instead of replying, the woman just stares at him before she turns on her heel and walks away.
"Fine you–"
"Daveth," Alistair says, sounding more than just a little bit exasperated.
"What do – oh, Warden Alistair." His eyes slide from Alistair to Ren, and he grins, "And who might this vision of beauty be?"
"She would be her highness, Princess Kerensa Fraser," Alistair replies. "Duncan's new recruit."
Daveth's not much taller than Ren, his dark hair close-cropped and looking incredibly scruffy. He looks particularly like he could use a good wash and a shave as well. Much like every other man she's seen in the camp, he wears armour and is armed – though his armour certainly looks as though it has seen better days.
Ren inclines her head to him, "Pleasure to meet you."
His grin in return is positively lascivious, "I assure you, your highness, the pleasure's all mine."
Alistair angles Ren a little behind himself, his posture protective and voice stern, "Since our last recruit has arrived, the Joining can begin. You should go find Duncan, Daveth."
Daveth shrugs, "Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted. But if her highness is looking for some company, I'm available."
Ren blinks, stares after Daveth as he goes and then turns back to Alistair, "I'm pretty sure that he was flirting with me."
There must be something in the way that she says it, because Alistair makes a choking noise – like there's laughter stuck in his throat. And then he's laughing, right properly, "You're only 'pretty sure' that he was?"
"... yes?"
If anything, her answer just makes Alistair laugh harder.
"What? What did I say?"
"Nothing!" Alistair replies, grinning.
Ren's beginning to believe that she'll never understand men. She didn't think that what she said was that funny… was it? Reviewing the conversation in her head takes her nowhere, because she's pretty sure that Daveth was flirting with her – or at least, trying to get her naked, which is basically the same thing.
She frowns, "Aren't we supposed to be finding the other Warden-Recruits?"
That sobers Alistair up a little, "Yes, but there's something that you'll need first. Wait here."
The quartermaster is near the kennel and it's the sound of a dog whining that attracts Ren's attention. It's only a few steps over and she peers over the fenced wall to look inside.
There's at least six dogs on one side, kept apart from the last one. It's the separate one which is making the whining that Ren heard. Lying on the ground and curled about itself, it cocks its head very slowly in her direction. Its eyes are dark and its colouring a beautiful russet shade.
"Ah, your highness, best be careful," a man says. "That one's master died in one of the raids. 'Fraid he might have been poisoned by darkspawn blood as well."
Ren turns to look at the man, he's tall, stocky, with fair coloured hair and a deeply set frown on his face.
"There's nothing that can be done for him?" Ren looks over at the dog, a beautiful creature that stares right back at her. "Nothing at all?"
"Ah, well, I couldn't ask you to – but you're one of them Warden-Recruits, right?"
"I am, yes."
"Then…" he hesitates. "If you'll be going into the Korcari Wilds, there's a certain flower that grows in there. It's a white one, with a deep red centre. If you find any, bring them back to me. I can make up a tonic that'll take care of that poisoning."
Even though she doesn't really know what the Korcari Wilds are or even if she'll ever be venturing into them, Ren nods her head, "I'll keep my eyes open."
"Thank you, your highness," the man says, smiling. "Really do appreciate it."
After he walks off, Ren watches the dog for a few more moments. It's Alistair who interrupts her meandering thoughts, brushing his hand against her shoulder.
"Ren?"
She turns to him, "Did you get what you needed?"
"Here, for you." He holds out a sheathed dagger to her.
Ren takes it from him, hand curling around the hilt. The sheath is a warm, rich shade of red and, when she unsheathes it just a little, the blade shines. Looking at it, her own eyes stare back at her – large and lost. She looks up at Alistair, brow furrowed.
"This is… for me?"
Alistair nods, "I'll show you how to use it later. But you'll be much safer if you're armed."
Ren looks back down at the dagger, sliding it back into its sheath. There are loops along it, clearly it's meant to be worn on a belt, which is something that she lacks. But still, it was thoughtful of Alistair to get it for her.
"Thank you. I'll have to find some way to repay you."
Gently, Alistair places his hands over hers, closing her grip on the dagger with his hands, "Consider it a gift. Ren, you don't need to repay me for anything."
Her heart feels like it's lodged in her throat and her chest feels tight. Meeting Alistair's eyes, she nods her head, "Alright."
Ren thinks that she'd like to have time to examine what she's currently feeling, but the moment of comfortable silence doesn't last. When Alistair pulls away, a soft smile still lingering on his lips, she has to remind herself that they're on the cusp of a battle. There will be time later for her to think on her emotions.
She holds the sheathed dagger to her chest, taking Alistair's arm once again, and follows alongside him while they continue through the camp. Her heart slowly calms from its earlier fluttering rhythm, settling back into its place deep in her chest.
Walking through the camp with Alistair, she realizes why it was so easy for her to get lost. The tents all look similar, with very little difference. Ren can't see any sense in how the camp is organized, but she feels safer with Alistair at her side and guiding her through it. It's a… pleasant feeling, she decides.
They find the last Warden-Recruit, Jory, listening to a sermon being given by one of the members of the Chantry.
Jory, unlike Daveth, is older, likely closer to Duncan's age than either Ren or Alistair's. He's a little shorter than Ren, portly, and his hairline of reddish-brown hair is quickly receding. Combined with that, he looks rather worried.
"I hadn't thought that women joined the Grey Wardens," Jory says, after Alistair tells him that it's time for the Joining.
"Not many do, but they're just as welcome among our ranks," Alistair replies.
"Forgive me, your highness. I heard of your arrival, but we haven't been introduced; my name is Jory."
"A pleasure, Ser Jory. I'm Kerensa Fraser." Although she wants to tell him that it's fine and that he can call her Ren, she gets the distinct impression that he wouldn't listen to her.
"You wouldn't happen to know what this Joining entails?" Jory asks, casting a wary eye at Alistair. "I mean, it's all rather secretive, isn't it? Daveth was saying that we'll have to go into the Wilds."
"I don't know anything about the Joining, no," Ren replies. "Duncan didn't say anything of it on our journey from Denerim, except that it would happen when we arrived."
"You two don't have anything to worry about," Alistair's smile has turned a shade bit thinner. "As the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you. You'll be fine."
"That's all well and good, but I don't like the secrecy of it all. Duncan told me nothing of it. Hopefully, this business will be finished quickly and the darkspawn repelled." Jory's rambling, voice droning on and on and on. He must like to hear himself talk, "I heard of your kidnapping, your highness, and it saddens me greatly. Is that why you are joining the Wardens?"
"I have my reasons," Ren hedges. Telling Alistair about how she's tainted is one thing, but telling Jory is very different and she isn't too keen on advertising that fact.
She proceeds to tune out the vast majority of Jory's definitely nervous rambling, only contributing here and there with some response in the affirmative. He has a wife, she finds out, who is expecting a child and who waits for him in Highever. While Jory chatters away beside them, Ren looks around the camp, taking in the mass of people that pass them by.
There's generally uniformity to the armour that she sees the various people wearing. Occasionally, she spots an elf within the crowd. Ren wonders, briefly, if any of them would know anything of the ruin that she awoke in, but she doesn't leave Alistair's side to pursue that thought. Later, she tells herself, there will be time for that later.
Returning to the Grey Warden's compound of tents, Duncan and Daveth are both waiting for them. Despite that it's early afternoon, there's a large fire roaring behind them. Duncan looks them over as they approach, waiting until they're only a foot or two away before he speaks.
"Now that you have all assembled, we can begin preparations for the Joining." Duncan's eyes linger on each of his recruits in turn, "You've all been chosen or made the choice to join our ranks. However, before the Joining can be performed, there is something that you must do."
"A catch, there's always a catch," Daveth mutters.
Duncan doesn't acknowledge him and continues, "The four of you are to go into the Korcari Wilds and gather three vials of darkspawn blood – one for each of you. Alistair will, of course, be accompanying you, but you must not linger long."
It's to Ren that Duncan gives the vials. Each is about the length of her hand and two fingers wide, the glass is heavy and cool in her hands. Sturdy, Ren thinks. The corks that stopper the vials look old and worn and there's a chip at the mouth of one. Clearly, they've seen better days.
"The vials are not your only goal," Duncan adds. "Many years ago, there was a Warden outpost in the Wilds. Although much of what once was there was either taken then or in the years since, there should be a collection of treaties. I ask that you bring to me, before dusk, three vials of darkspawn blood and those treaties. Do that, and the Joining ceremony can begin in full."
"How will we find these ruins?" Ren asks, tucking the vials carefully into the pocket of her dress.
"Alistair will know what to look for. The ruins are not far from here, but given how few Wardens there are we have not had the manpower nor time to retrieve these treaties."
"The Wilds? Isn't that – isn't that dangerous?"
Ren blinks, looks between Jory and Duncan and back again. There has to be something about the Wilds that she just doesn't know, because everyone seems awfully wary of the place. Or maybe that's simply just Jory.
Daveth snorts, nudges Jory in the side with his elbow, "What? Are you scared, Ser Knight?"
"Of course not!" Jory sputters. His pudgy face turning red from the neckline of his armour, progressing slowly up his face. "But an entire scout's patrol disappeared in there yesterday! Would it really be safe for us to take Her Highness in there?"
"I'm a Warden-Recruit just like you are, Ser Jory. There's no need with paying me any special attention," Ren replies. Then she turns back to Duncan, "That's all that we need to do? Collect the vials of blood and those Warden treaties?"
"Yes, that's all. Once you've completed both tasks, return to camp with all haste. The army marches tonight, so we will need to hold the Joining as soon as is possible."
"Then let's go."
Before they leave the camp, Alistair retrieves a spare belt from somewhere. He has to punch extra holes in it so that it will fit around Ren's waist, and helps her to situate her new dagger. It rests at her side, within very easy reach.
Jory casts her dagger a wary eye, "Do you know how to use that, Princess Kerensa?"
She gives him her best smile, "You don't need to worry about me. I can look after myself."
That's the time that Alistair chooses to intervene at, "She's right, though. You don't need to worry about her. She isn't your responsibility."
Before they leave the camp by way of the farthest exit, they decide on a battle formation. Jory and Alistair both have swords and shields, whereas Daveth pairs a short one-handed sword with a dagger. If there is fighting, Ren is to stay in the rear and, if needed, find a safe place to hide until combat is over. Anyone tries anything funny, she stabs them.
She does, in fact, know how to stab someone.
There are two things that Ren learns very quickly about the Korcari Wilds. First, they're a fucking swamp. Two, they smell. It's not even a bad smell; she likes it much more than she did the stench of the army camp or even of Denerim. It smells like earth, like fresh grass clippings, and something about it stirs something within her, though she doesn't know what it is.
It reminds her of something, but she cannot grasp what that is. Much like before, it's as though she's grasping at sand falling through her fingers. She feels like it should be there, but it isn't and it's frustrating to know that she's trying to fit things into something that's gone. There are small stirs of I know this within her, but when she presses, there is nothing more.
Ren's smart enough not to let herself get too caught up in her worrying about what she does and doesn't remember. When they find the remnants of the scout patrol that Jory had spoken of earlier, she makes a beeline for the edge of one of the dirty pools of water, folding herself down to hide amongst the tall reeds and grass, keeping a large fallen tree between her and the fight.
While she's folded in her little hiding place, the sounds of combat close at hand, she spots the flower.
It's a large flower, as big as her hand, with a deep almost blood red centre. Ren reaches out and, carefully, snaps the stem and holds it close. It smells… sweet, almost cloyingly so. But she inhales the scent deeply, blocking out the noises of fighting by focusing on it.
She stays there, crouched and curled up, until she hears Alistair call out, "It's safe now!"
Ren tucks the flower into the pocket of her dress on the other side of the one that's carrying the vials for the darkspawn blood. When she stands, she brushes off her dress – for all the good it does, it's now likely beyond salvation – and slowly makes her way back over to the rest of the party.
Alistair meets her halfway, helping her over some of the uneven terrain. Even through the leather covering his hands, they're warm. Despite the blood spatter on his armour and the stench that she now can successfully identify as darkspawn, he smiles at her and she feels lighter.
"I think that's one part of our quest that we can count as done," Alistair says lightly. "You still have the vials?"
"Huh? Oh, yes. Yes, I do." Ren fumbles for a minute, blinking and looking away from Alistair to pull them from the pocket of her dress. She holds up the three heavy vials, which are mercifully still intact. "Right here."
Jory and Daveth are equally as blood-spattered as Alistair is, but Ren ignores that and the smell which is still awful enough to nearly make her gag to hand them each one of the vials. They seem to have taken a small raiding party of darkspawn by surprise. One has been disemboweled, Ren notes distantly, and another has been decapitated.
She doesn't think about it, instead quickly crouching at the side of the nearest corpse to gather the required blood. It's a thick, black ichor that sticks to her fingers as she pulls away. She wipes her fingers on her dress, leaving horrible oily smears behind. Her dress is completely beyond salvation at this point, Ren notes.
Well, better that than dead.
She tucks away the vial of blood into her pocket, then looks to Alistair, "So, where's this Warden outpost we're meant to be looking for?"
Alistair cleans his blade of blood before he sheathes it, then he strides over to Ren and offers her a hand to help her back to her feet. He points to a crumbling dome some ways off, its columns and walls eroding away into the waters of the swamp.
"Just a little ways past that ruin there."
He's so close that Ren can see there's a thin scratch on his cheek, slowly weeping blood. Without thought, she reaches up and brushes the blood away with her thumb. Her skin tingles.
Alistair stares at her, "Um."
Ren's face feels like she stuck it into a pot of boiling water. She glances down, dropping her hand, "I – um."
"Uh, so, I think we'd better get moving," Alistair awkwardly clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don't want to be out here too long."
"Yes, right. Let's keep moving." Her face is still burning. Her hand's also still tingling, which doesn't go away even when she clenches her fist to stop it. She feels… warm, like there's something fluttering against her ribcage. Ren's pretty sure that it's her heart.
It's not… awkward, Ren thinks, after. But things get very quiet after that. There's darkspawn in the swamp, but Alistair assures them that they won't be ambushed.
"It's a Grey Warden thing," he hedges when pressed. "You'll understand soon enough."
Daveth has mostly stopped ribbing Jory over the latter's cowardice, but he still takes the time to occasionally throw a risqué comment back at Ren, who brings up the rear of their little troup. Ren mostly ignores the comments – she's not interested and Daveth's just looking to get a rise out of her. Or get lucky. Either outcome isn't one she'll give him.
On the other hand, Alistair tells him off.
"It's behaviour unbecoming of a Warden-Recruit."
Daveth just shrugs it off, but he grins, "We all can't be knights in shining buckets, I guess."
"I never–"
Ren blinks, "Buckets…?"
It's Alistair's turn to flush now, "I – nevermind, I'll tell you about it later. Once we're back in camp."
"Alright…"
It takes them the better part of two hours to traverse the muddy, uneven terrain of the Wilds to reach the ruins of the old Warden outpost. They had to take several detours, taking long ways around particularly deep and murky ponds – the direct route was absolutely out of the question.
Ren's perfectly fine with striding straight through the muddy, ankle-deep water that separates them from the ruins. She's just about to pull up the hem of her dress to follow after Jory when Alistair stops her with a gentle hand to her elbow. She looks back to him, question on the tip of her tongue.
There's pink high in Alistair's cheeks, but he meets her eyes easily. He clears his throat, "May I?"
A tiny part of Ren is going oh shit, but the rest of her is stuck just like how her voice has lodged itself in her throat. Her face is warm again – probably just as pink as Alistair's – and she nods her head wordlessly.
The first thought that shoots through her head when Alistair sweeps her legs out from under her is something along the lines of dear fucking god please don't fucking dropping me. The second one is quick grab onto him before he does, followed swiftly by you fucking moron he is not going to drop you.
Alistair keeps one arm under knees, the other curled around her back. He does, though, smile at Ren's wide eyes and the way that she automatically latches onto her shoulders. He leans in just a little closer, so his words are just for her, "I've got you, alright?"
Her face is still too hot, but Ren manages to return his smile and nods. Her heart takes a little longer to get with the program, slowing itself from its rapid spike.
There's a small smudge of blood left on Alistair's cheek. The scratch is gone.
Once they're across the small stream, Alistair sets Ren carefully back on her feet. Before he lets her go entirely, she catches his forearm. He can't feel the pressure through his armour, obviously, but she still squeezes it and softens her smile.
"Thank you."
Daveth makes a noise like there's something caught in his throat. It jerks Ren back and Alistair pulls away, Ren's face is still warm but she's smiling. She shoves a stray lock of hair back behind her ear and looks up at the ruin before them.
Once, it might have been an intimidating structure. Now, most of it has crumbled away. There's foliage clinging to its every wall and the high dome that once was its roof has caved in. Ren can spot at least two trees growing up from the inside of it. She thinks that it looks awfully sad, a crumbling and long forgotten ruin left to rot.
"I'm not sensing any darkspawn," Alistair says. "We should be good. Let's get in quickly and find those treaties and get back to camp as soon as possible. We don't want to be out past dusk."
The four of them make their way up the short incline to the ruin. Ren thinks that there's probably stairs buried under the ground beneath their feet, but time and nature have reclaimed them entirely. She follows a little behind Alistair, Daveth in the lead with Jory beside him.
Inside of the ruin is just as depressing. It's as overgrown with plants as the outside of it is, although it reeks of something that smells a lot like wet dog. Well, wet dog mixed in with something that just recently died.
"How do we even know these treaties are still here? Doesn't look like anything's been here for a long time," Daveth remarks, kicking at a lose rock.
"They're protected by enchantments," Alistair replies, pushing a low-hanging curtain of ivy aside so that Ren and he can pass through. "Only a Grey Warden can retrieve them."
Ren scans the entirety of the space they're in. It's not very big, so she easily spots the cracked open and decaying chest at the base of one of the trees. She breaks away from Alistair's side, moving towards it, and reaching out her hand.
There's a hum of something, faint but there. It's old, though, and weak. The tree's roots have broken the chest, shattering it, and when she gently shoves aside it's cracked and worn lid, there's nothing inside but a root and handfuls of decaying leaves.
"They were here," Ren murmurs quietly, as the others come up behind her. She speaks a little louder, "If they were here, someone must have taken them."
"Taken? But–"
"Well, well, what have we here?"