A/N - Well, here's part 2. One more after this. Reviews and all that are appreciated, and if you're reading this far and still haven't read Orangeflavor's The Last Rite, I'm gonna take this moment to nudge you in that direction.
Three months pass, and Kael Stays as His Woman leaves.
His routine changes from marching after Her every moment of every day to instead waking Her up with gentle nuzzles and doggy kisses, lying at Her feet as She breaks Her fast, and listening as She tells him what routes She will take this day. It is then that She departs, rubbing the base of his ears fondly and giving him praises and pets each time. He misses walking with Her. He misses exploring the Ferelden countryside with His Woman. He misses doing his duty to protect Her from all danger.
But he likes this, too.
The door creaks and groans to a close, and Kael stares intently at the heavy wood for long moments. It grows harder with each moon to hear her footsteps echoing down the halls, and so Kael waits longer, just to be sure. Staying behind is not hard anymore. Once She leaves, Kael turns back into Her chambers. His nose twitches, drawing in Her scent. Everywhere he plods, everything that he snuffs against, it all smells of Her. It is the best scent that he knows. Kael lumbers over to Her bed. He eyes the height of the jump he must make, and an uncertain grumble rolls in his throat. He wants to do it, to jump up and lie among Her pillows and blankets and smell Her until She returns to Her den, but Kael is not sure he can manage the jump.
The backs of his flanks twitch rapidly, and Kael raises one forepaw, then the other. Hunkering low, he pushes off, hauling himself bodily and with great difficulty on top of His Woman's bed. His hind legs have kicked the blankets into a disheveled mess by the time he settles. A heavy sigh wrestles free of his maw. He fears that someday soon, he will not be able to make the jump.
And if he cannot make it, he cannot greet Her each morning.
It is this thought that pains him the most.
He lowers his bulky head and rests it against his paws, letting his neck muscles relax so that his nose will press into the soft fabric of the blankets. Her scent is changing with the spring months approaching, just as it always has. Her smiles grow wider, Her head fur grows fuller, and the brisk pace he has loved as a youth returns to her steps. Heavy eyelids droop at the thought of Her quickening pace. Even if one morning he feels well enough to patrol their territory with the rest of the pack, he knows that he will not keep up with Her. Still, he loves the joy She feels. His eyes close slowly, and a soft sigh wooshes out against the blankets. He remembers springs long past, when his teeth still gleam white in the sun, and before he has quite so many scars.
He remembers the way Her eyes sparkle with delight to be rid of the cold, and he remembers Her scent, as it has not been in many moons….
She smells of sweet clovers, raisins, sweat, and dirt with just the right amount of foot smell ground into it. Kael feels the electric excitement sparking off of Her hide and onto his. It makes him tense and strain. It is almost time.
His Woman pulls an arrow from the quiver at Her hip. She knocks it silently. The pair waits for just the right moment. A young buck tip-toes forward, a set of small, velvety antlers sprouting from his skull making him no more than a year old. Even as small as they are, it is enough to make Kael salivate at the thought of getting to gnaw the chewy membrane away from bones. It is his favorite part of their spring hunts.
The string of the bow twangs as it sends the arrow flying, and Kael thunders after it, snapping and snarling his fangs. The buck bellows in pain as the shaft of the arrow sinks deeply into his gut. Panicking, he flees. The dark brown mabari at his heels lunges forward and leaps onto his back. The dog's maw closes around his throat, and with a strong jerk of his head, he snaps the neck. The buck crumples to the forest floor and sends Kael tumbling ahead. Blood fills his maw. Turning back to his kill, Kael trots back to stand on top of it, his nubby tail wagging proudly as he waits to show His Woman his good work—He is not a hunting dog, but he thinks that he does well enough to please Her.
He hears the brambles rustling before he hears Her voice. It makes him bark excitedly, bowing his forelegs in front of him with his rump hitched high in the air. It is a good kill, and he is a Good Boy.
"Yes! Good Boy, Kael! That's my Good, Handsome Boy!" His Woman praises him.
Hearing Her so pleased with him makes his body quiver with joy, and Kael lunges forward off of the buck's corpse to greet Her, jumping up and resting his paws on Her shoulders. On his hind legs, standing straight, the great beast stands taller than His Woman does. Her hands dance over his sides and his belly, curling Her fingers to scratch at his pits and flanks.
"Do you want to help me carry it back, Kael?" She says, stepping out from under him and over to their kill. She smiles as She looks as their handiwork, and Her fingers close around the shaft of the arrow to pull it free.
He does, he does, he does! Kael bows forward again, pushing at Her heels with his black claws, nubby tail wagging excitedly. He is a strong dog, everyone tells him so. Marching over with his head held high and his muscles rippling beneath his shiny coat, Kael lets his tongue hang out of his mouth as he waits for His Woman to strap a tether to the deer to him. She fits a makeshift harness around his barrel chest, barely having enough to tie it together. She struggles as She hefts the deer and positions it on top of him, splaying its four legs out over his own, but thankfully She bends the head back so that it will not droop in his face as he runs.
"Okay, Kael, let's get back to camp now," She says.
Kael feels the brief sensation of falling before his bulky body connects smartly with the wooden floors of His Woman's chambers. The hound groans, and realizing his mouth feels dry, opens his eyes to look down at a very large pillow crammed between his jaws, soaking with drool. It has only been a dream. He pulls his head back and drops the pillow on the floor. More and more he has these dreams, always of happier times. Unable to hold his head quite so high, Kael slumps off towards the door, sporting a minor limp after the fall from the tall bed aggravates his hips.
He will not be able to sleep again until the ache in his body fades away. Instead, he plods to the kitchens and hassles his way inside of the meat lockers. Kael lies at the foot of a barrel as the Anders cook hacks into a thick haunch of boar meat. It is not the same as venison, but he does not feel picky with the persistent growling his hunting dream has left him with.
"There you are, you big beast, off with you," the cook chunks a large, bloody slab of meat down onto the ground in front of Kael, and the hound happily hunches forward to snatch it up into his jaws. He wags his nub gratefully and leaves the man alone after this, as he knows better than to push his luck. His sides already bulge out in ways they never have, and he knows his belly feels softer against the ground with the fatness of a housedog. He plods onward, going round the same turns and scratching at the same doors as he has been.
The door to her chambers pushes open, and Kael raises his grizzly old head, a low whuff building inside of his chest. It seems to him that not enough time has passed, as absorbed as he is with chewing on his slab of meat—now devoured all except for a gristle-covered bone. But His Woman stands before him. She is out of breath and smiles down at him, and pats her leg affectionately.
"Kael! I didn't mean to scare you old boy, come here, let me see you," it seems to Kael that She uses more and more sweet words as the moon cycles through its phases. He does not complain, it makes him happy to hear Her voice. He abandons his treat and hobbles over, still sporting an ache in his leg after his fall from earlier in the day. He feels Her eyes track over his body, and Kael smacks his jowls audibly to draw Her attention to the present. She is forgetting the best part of their new schedule—the Welcome Home Scratches. His Woman crouches down in front of him. Her hands reach out and settle on his chest, gently kneading hardened muscles and bald patches.
"I see you had no trouble finding your way to the kitchens after I left," She teases him gently and pats his fattening sides. At first, he worries that his loss of shape and form displeases Her, but more and more at night She sneaks him sweet meats and crumbs from Her late night private meals. He gobbles them up even though he is not hungry. The pets finally cease, and His Woman pushes Herself to Her feet. She steps father into Her quarters, and he follows Her gaze to look at the mess he has made of Her bed.
She says nothing to him and merely eyes the pillow he has hauled to the ground along with him. She pets him gently between the ears. In winters past, he remembers sighs of exasperation whenever he got into Her bedding, or the beds of Her companions.
"Come on, let's get up into bed." She says.
It is odd, but Kael longs for just one last stern look.
Kael does not know how long they have been under the earth, but it feels like a long time. Finally, they have found the Dwarf Scent they sought, but she will not come to them. To get to her, His Woman and the rest of their pack must travel through throngs of Darkspawn and into hallways with tiles that shift and press down whenever he steps on them.
But they have come here for her, and they will not leave without her.
So the pack travels through the awful maze.
And still, it is not enough.
His Woman finds a stone giant even bigger than the scentless one that follows behind, and the creature begins to speak to her in deep, bone rattling tones. It tells her of things that Kael does not understand and in a way that he understands even less. And just like that, the Dwarf Scent returns, and her grating voice shouts out. Challenges such as this, Kael comprehends. She means to harm His Woman.
All around them, the statues come to life. Scentless beings roll shoulders made out of boulders, and their eyes begin to glow a pale blue. He cannot bite these things. He has tried to bite the scentless one called Shale before, and it merely makes the sound of laughter at him. There is only one creature he can bite.
And she was charging towards His Woman with a heavy mace brandished in her arms.
Snarling out a warning and a challenge, Kael ducks and bolts beneath the legs of one of the rock giants, narrowly avoiding a glancing blow to his flanks. His Woman is doing her best to avoid being grabbed by one of the scentless creatures, and she does not see the dwarf woman charging headlong at her. He hears the giant She calls Sten heaving himself against her current attacker. The mass of rock breaks into several pieces as thick veins bulge in Sten's arms and neck. One of them rolls on top of His Woman's foot, pinning her to the ground. She cannot escape the dwarf—it is up to him to save her.
"It's mine, it's MINE!" The dwarf bellows as she charges. The mace raises high above her head, and Kael sees His Woman struggling to get away in time. He has only one chance.
The massive hound thunders toward the pair and inserts himself between them. His jaws close around the dwarf's face at the same moment her mallet slams down on where His Woman would have been. Instead, it crushes his hind leg. The pain is unreal, and Kael knows that he yelps in pain even as he growls at this woman. His teeth do not stop their conquest, and soon his painful whimpers and the sound of his bones crushing and snapping is drowned out by the one they call Branka as she falls to the ground beneath his heavy weight, wrestling with him.
She grabs for ear flaps that he does not have. She tries to pull at his thick face wrinkles and jowls. She tries everything that she can to prevent the rampaging mabari from ending her life on the cold stone floors—not even a hundred paces from her conquest.
And she fails.
Kael's mouth fills with blood as his teeth tear apart her throat. They rend straight through her jugular and all of the tendons in her neck. He tears flesh from her face in such ways and with such anger in his heart that he has never known himself capable of. He willfully fights for His Woman always, but she is a capable alpha, and he has never seen her so close to death. This dwarf means to kill His Woman.
It awakens something inside of him that never truly leaves him.
The giant moves the rock slab off of Her foot, and while he chews pieces of Branka still stuck inside of his muzzle, His Woman takes the control rod from where it falls to the ground. The scentless ones, except for the one She calls Shale, stop moving. "Kael! Kael, off!" He feels a gentle open fingered pinch to his uninjured flank, and the big brute whips his blood-soaked head around, lips preemptively curling back—only to see that it is His Woman.
Kael cannot get off of the desecrated dwarf. His rear leg bleeds where the jagged bone stabs through thick muscle and hide, and the entire limb twists in unnatural ways. It pains him terribly, and he hopes that they will make it back to where the sun shines, soon.
"Sten, help him," She orders.
The bronze skinned giant kneels before him, "You are a True Warrior, and worthy of respect," he says. He scoops Kael up in his arms, and the hound growls weakly at the feeling of lifting off the ground. As Sten separates him from the kill, Kael's head begins to swim. He looks to His Woman, and he keeps Her in his sights; if he is to fade to nothingness, She will be the last that he sees.
"Hold on, Boy, just hold on," Her voice quiets as his vision blackens.
Kael begins to track the passage of time not by the changing cycles of the moon, but by the growing soreness of his body. He feels the months pass by as things begin to sound as though they come from some far off place. He knows he grows older as his eyes become murky.
One such morning, Kael awakes to find that he can no longer hear.
For long moments, the hound lies in his new place at floor by His Woman's bed. He cannot make the jump, and he is too large for Her to lift him up. The cropped rims of his ears turn this way and that, trying to pick out the gentle sound of Her snores.
He cannot hear Her.
Hitching his neck up, Kael scrambles to his paws, his ever stiffening hind leg giving him even more trouble. He must find Her. He must ensure She is well and safe. The mabari turns about and tries to let out a questioning bark. He feels it, but he does not hear it. It makes his body quiver with confusion and fear. Kael barks again, and then another time after that. Still, he cannot hear it. Whining loudly, the grizzled hound lifts a paw and swipes it across the blankets on His Woman's bed. Her body is there, but he cannot hear Her breathing, and he cannot bear the thought of failing Her.
One of Her hands slips out from beneath the blanket and flops into his face. Kael cannot tell if he makes Her do this, or if She is still alive and safe. He grasps Her arm as gently as he can manage in his maw, and with an urgency he doesn't understand, Kael drags Her from Her bed and onto the floor. Her mouth opens, but he cannot hear the expletive She shouts, or the displeased tone that She uses at having been so rudely awakened from Her slumbers.
He must find help. The old woman is long deceased, but there are others like her. The blonde man with his feathery clothes sometimes helps others with their injuries. If Kael can sniff him out, he will help.
The hound scrambles away from Her grasping hands, barking and howling with desperation as he charges to the door, rearing up to chew at the thick metal handle. He paws and scratches, causing deep grooves to etch their way into the wooden surface as chips flick off into the shadows by the near wall.
Her shouts are lost on him. The most he feels is the floor shaking under his paws as she runs to him, trying to get the door open for him. He thunders out, skidding across the stone floors. Doors open along the halls. Heads poke out of dimly lit rooms, and sometimes Kael feels footsteps slapping against the ground behind his paws, or fingers trying to grab his haunches and stop him. He remembers the tower of nightmares. He fears that, as he scrambles through the keep, he is back in that dark place.
He can't hear Her calling for him.
Kael's body sports burns in places he didn't know flames can reach. Terrible things echo through the halls of the tower, and he smells fear thick in the air. All of the smells muddle together and confuse him. Kael pins his shoulder to His Woman's side so that he will not lose her as they progress.
But the demon they come upon is unlike all others before it.
He tries to bite it. He tries to surge forward and to close his jaws around its throat, but the weight of his body is too much. He feels heavy and slow. He feels useless. He thinks this is the worst feeling in the world—until the demon takes them bad places.
Kael's vision swirls and pulses. Everything is foggy, and he cannot find His Woman. His nose twitches. He tries to capture Her scent, but there is nothing on the wind. He cannot smell anything. He does not know if he is inside of a forest or a grassy field. He can't smell any water or food. The hound ducks low, his lips curling back over his fangs to show black and purple mottled gums. The creature has done something with His Woman, and he must find Her!
Everywhere that he looks, Kael sees her foot beneath overhanging bushes. Each time he rushes to free Her, She disappears. He has no scent to follow and no sounds to listen to. All that he has is what he sees through the fog. It must be enough to protect Her.
It feels like all of his life is spent searching for Her through woods and fields that never end, finding bodies that look like hers until he gets close, and feeling brushes against his fur from hands that do not belong to Her.
It is his deepest fear made real—that one day he will not be able to protect Her.
And then, out of nowhere, She stands before him. The mabari howls with delight and rushes towards Her, tackling her to the ground and covering her with kisses that leave streaks of virulent drool across her face and neck. She is safe, and he will not leave her side again.
He does not think he can bear to live if ever he cannot protect Her.
Kael cowers in a corner of a hallway that he does not recognize.
He does not remember the paths that he took to get here, and he does not know how to get back. He knows why he grows old and slow now. He knows that he has been Bad and that he is being punished for it. Only Bad Dogs must lose their jobs and stay behind. He has let too much harm come to Her, and now he has to Stay.
When he feels footfalls approaching, Kael bellows out a snarl he hopes will be loud enough so that he can hear it, but there is nothing to show but the pain in his throat. He turns his body to face the pair trying to ambush him, only to find it is a scullery boy and His Woman, both of them panting. Though his vision is blurry and She looks so far away, Kael knows something deep in his heart.
She is the best, most wonderful thing he has ever seen, and he will never let Her free from his sights again.
He runs to Her, limping heavily and having to pick up his hind leg so that he can move faster. He jumps up just as he used to, and forces himself to gather a strength rusting and bent bones have forgotten. Her hands rub his sides vigorously. He crams his face against her side and draws in her scent. Kael will not listen to what his body tells him. He will be a Good Boy until he sees he cannot protect Her any longer.
He loves Her.
His Woman does not give up on him when his leg breaks.
She has the giant carry him all the way back to Orzammar, and to where furry-faced short ones with gruff tones can tend to his wounds. He lowers his head as His Woman presses it down onto the table, fearful that he may try biting the ones trying to help him.
They mash on his leg and hurt him in ways he doesn't think he can be hurt, and all the while She tells him he is a Good Boy.
It is the only reason he does not bite.
Even if it hurts, he will always please Her.
They do not return to Her chambers. Already awake, She thinks to make the most use of Her time, and so his vigil begins. If his time within the tower of nightmares gives him nothing else, it is the practice of keeping Her within sight, and not relying on his ears. He plods after Her dutifully. At first, he thinks She is grateful for this after his strange and frantic outburst. For hours he walks at Her side, drawing on a reservoir of energy he did not know that he had.
He has never known another old dog.
He does not know that what he feels is normal—and the not knowing frightens him.
With his ears useless and his eyes failing him, Kael finds it much harder to trust the others of Her growing pack. He has seen some turn on Her before, but he will not let them get close enough to try it now. As couriers approach with missives, Kael bares his fangs and growls menacingly, shoving his bulky frame between His Woman and all potential threats. It is his very last chance to protect Her properly. If he fails, he fears he will lose his sense of smell, too, and then he will be nothing.
He does not hear Her protests.
He does not hear Her apologies.
On their patrol near the bordering forests, Kael walks just behind Her. He trusts that She will see the dangers ahead before he does, but he can defend Her from potential threats amongst the recruits.
It is Her lover that proves him wrong, even in this.
The elf steps so lightly that Kael does not feel it, and the next he knows, His Woman is tangled in someone's arms, and he cannot hear if She is scared or excited. Without waiting for the unthinkable to happen, Kael lunges and sinks his teeth into Zevran's bicep, using his massive weight to drag the elf off of His Woman and down to the ground.
He goes to bite him again, but then She strikes him.
His heart sinks inside of his chest, and Kael feels a trickle of urine squirt out onto the ground at the thought of displeasing Her. In his peripheral, he sees Hers boots scoot back. Shame makes it worse, and soon he loses control of himself entirely.
The walk back is the longest and hardest he has ever taken.
It is the first time She has ever called him a Good boy.
He stands in front of Her on top of a Hurlock's corpse, nubby tail wagging back and forth proudly. She is panting for breath. He leans forward and licks sloppily at Her hands. She is a good fighter, and if She likes him, they will win many battles, and he will protect Her from anything, no matter what!
The elf woman smiles down at him, and she slings her hand to fling his thick drool off of her fingertips. "You're a Good Boy, aren't you?" She says to him.
He knows that he is, and he will show Her! He barks happily and bows forward to rub his shoulder up against Her thighs, leaning heavily against Her. He has never felt so strongly about anyone in his life. He knows that this woman is the best thing in the world. The elf woman ignores the swamp witch as he trots after her. She stoops over and swiftly tears off a branch of elfroot. He never forgets the smell, and he never forgets the way it feels to smell elfroot and her scent all at once the very first time she pets him.
He wants Her to know that he remembers.
Kael stares up at Her as She seats Herself in Her chair that evening, trying to avoid looking at him. He knows that what She sees is not what She remembers. He knows that it pains Her. The hound scoots forward on his bottom until he sits to the side of Her knee. He watches Her read for long hours, until the candle beside Her burns low in its disc. His Woman turns Her head to look at it, and then to the small vase on the table beside it. Her hands reach out to touch the wilting leaf of Her bright spring flowers. He knows that he will never find those. He remembers the smell of elfroot, though, and if he brings it to Her, She might understand.
He remembers their time together—as it used to be.
She stares at the candle even longer than She did into Her book, even after its tiny whisper of flame flicks out. Her eyelids droop down and close. Kael shuffles closer, and the hound rests his chin on top of Her leg. He wants to sleep here with Her, more than anything, but his paws itch, and he knows he has to show Her. It is his last job to do, and it feels right to do it.
A Good Dog never fails at their job, and he wants so badly to be a Good Dog.
With great effort, Kael pushes himself to his paws. His dry tongue laps weakly at the back of Her hand until Her restless stirring draws it out of reach. Turning away, Kael lumbers slowly to the cracked door. He paws open the door and does not look back.