A/N: Thank you all for the reviews! I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter up. I wanted it to be good, haha.
Also, I wanted to apologize for any inconsistencies with canon lore - Cailan's mother, for instance. Just bear with me, folks! I'll try not to make too many more errors like that one.
Enjoy!
Isobel knew her plan was a poor one.
She felt much lighter without the cumbersome sword and shield on her back, but there was a weight on her shoulders that kept her steps close to the ground. Her brows were cinched together above her nose, an expression she often wore after encountering a combination of emotions she did not understand.
There was sympathy for Cailan's losses, and grief for her own. But there was also a newfound strength she felt to her bones, no doubt the remnants of the Joining. And then there was hope…
Her thoughts tore her away from the physical world as she made her way down the dusty path to where the man asked her to meet him. How could someone wrap their minds around the gravity of the situation and their quest? She was scarcely nineteen - unmarried and unattached to anything apart from her deep faith to her family name and the memory of her mother and father. She had no place as one of the last Grey Wardens, just as she had no place as the protector of the King.
She certainly had no place in diplomacy.
When she reached the waterfall, the three men were waiting for her, all of them staring intently in her direction. Waiting, like a group of cats watching their prey. The same two words played in repeat inside her head as she made her way down the road - bad idea, bad idea, bad idea. Despite her worries, she held her shoulders high, tilting her chin upwards in expertly imitated confidence.
Years spent placating noblewomen taught Isobel a great deal about lying. Or, as she preferred it, bluffing.
Why had Alistair let her go through with this?
Would she have given him a chance to persuade her otherwise?
Sacrifices were to be made on the road towards peace. That sounded like a decent philosophy to tide over her churning stomach. If anyone was to understand the situation - the true happenings at Ostagar - she would have to tell them herself. Loghain was quick to spread lies. She would be there to show them for the poison they were.
--
It was almost nightfall before Cailan's men began to vocalize their concerns about Isobel. They figured her speaking to Bann Teagan would last a good few hours, but she'd been gone for much longer. When another soldier slipped into Cailan's tent, his features skewed with concern, the king knew exactly what he would say.
"I worry, your Majesty, that there has been some complication in Redcliffe."
"I know," was Cailan's solemn reply. There was a vein of comfort in his tone that gave the soldier some glimmer of optimism. They wouldn't sit around the fire for much longer. King Cailan had a plan.
After sitting in his tent for most of the day, his brains were wracked with unease. Nothing seemed to slow long enough for him to catch up. He was weary and he was sad and he was angry. He didn't know what to feel without mixing his emotions into a blur of colors and torture. His sadness bled into his anger. His grief chased the strong feeling of being overwhelmed. He felt as though he was drowning in his own head.
And then there was Isobel. She confused him, something he could do without given his current state, but she was such a strong part of this group. Mere days together and they were already like a second family. Alistair would sooner betray Cailan than speak a harsh word of his last connection to the Grey Wardens of Ferelden. The men who fought beside her knew first hand what a valuable asset to the group she was. There was even a part of him that didn't want to see her go either, especially not at the hands of the men who'd stopped them earlier.
"What do you suggest we do?" Cailan asked the soldier. "Do we storm the city? Do we leave without her to find allies? For there are clearly none here."
The soldier's eyes fell to the ground in front of him at a loss for words.
"There is nothing we can do. Not yet. Teagan wouldn't dare hurt a Grey Warden." Pausing, a hint of a smile passed his lips. "Though I doubt he could. Hurt her, I mean. She's a tough one."
"Aye," agreed the soldier. "But is there really nothing we can do? Should we send Alistair to assist in the negotiations? He seems more level-headed than she. We don't know what we're dealing with here, save for a scant few words from earlier. And, pardon my forthrightness, it doesn't sound like you have much clout here anymore, your Majesty."
Cailan merely nodded. He crossed the tent and opened the flap, ducking out of it and into the chilly night. The men were all idling around, and there was a sense of uneasiness on every face. None of them were used to the silence, but they did not know what to say. When Cailan began his way toward the center of them, they all snapped into attention, their posture gone rigid and a few murmurs of "your Majesty" rippling through the crowd. He gave them all a dismissive wave before closing in on Alistair, who seemed to be worrying more than any of the others.
"Your Majesty," he greeted, bowing his head slightly.
"Alistair." Nodding to a spot some ways off where they could speak in peace, Cailan gave the young man a soft, reassuring smile. He was sad to see that it did not ease him. Finally out of earshot, the king passed his tongue along his bottom lip as he searched for how to begin. Panic struck Alistair, and he could feel his heart begin to race. What was he going to say? Were they going to leave? A few of the men mentioned leaving. They weren't really going to leave her were they? "After much deliberation, I've decided that you should go to Redcliffe to assist your fellow Grey Warden in speaking to my uncle."
Alistair repressed the urge to heave a sigh of relief. "Yes, your Majesty." He took another moment to realize what he would have to do. "Should we not wait to receive word of her progress before you send me in? Wouldn't that show we have no confidence in her? I-I'm not saying we don't, but it could give off that impression."
"What if she has failed? He could have locked her up by now for all we know. Or killed her."
"They, they wouldn't do that would they? She's a Grey Warden!"
Cailan glanced off in the direction of Redcliffe, his brows knitted together in contemplation. "I don't think that title is worth much anymore, my friend. If anything, you have become the foe. Just as much as I."
From far off, they both heard a shout. It was a deep bellow of a warning, and they turned to see two of their men running towards the camp - the two who'd been sitting as watchmen on the road to Redcliffe.
"It's the Grey Warden! She has a group of men with her!"
One of the watchmen broke off from the other and went to the rest of the men to give them a more detailed account of what he'd seen, while the other ran directly towards Cailan. "My King," he gasped, struggling to stop short of them in his heavy armor. "My King, Isobel, she is nearly here. The other men with her - soldiers - not guards."
"Breath, ser," Cailan pressed, reaching to grab the man's shoulder. "Speak in full sentences. What sort of soldiers? Did they seem to come in peace?"
"Yes, your Majesty," the watchmen said, finally breathing easier. It took everything he had not to smile when delivering the news. "She was," he paused to consider what he'd seen. "Leading them, my King."
Cailan gave an amused "huh," before turning to Alistair with a grin. "Looks like we aren't going to have to send you in after all."
"Uh," Alistair murmured, forcing a chuckle. He was still as white as a sheet. "Hurrah."
Isobel's arrival into the camp was met with a chorus of cheers from the previously worried soldiers, but she did not stop to soak in the reception. She hardly gifted them with more than a small smile. Cailan's own joyous expression was sobered when he caught sight of her. "Your Majesty," she addressed him, dipping her chin down against her chest. Before he was able to return the greeting, she was speaking again, "I fear I come with terrible news and not much time to tell it in."
Cailan's eyes widened slightly and he offered her to step away from the group, his good arm extended toward his tent. She lifted a hand to stop him. "Not much time," she reminded him. "An hour at the most to be completely ready."
"What are you talking about? What do you mean? Ready for what?"
"The people of Redcliffe are in trouble, your Majesty. Every night they are attacked, and they struggle to stay alive. Many of them have failed." Taking a deep breath, she released it in a ragged sigh. There were noticeable bags beneath her dark eyes. She was tired, and in more ways than one. "It was terrible to see. They fear they will not make it through tonight. I was able to assist Bann Teagan in a way he could not refuse."
As she spoke, she paced back and forth, each word paired with a hand gesture and the clink of her armor. "I offered to put our - your - men in the fight. Hopefully we can help rid them of this demonic force for good." When she turned to look him in the eyes, Cailan could tell that she was unsure of her actions. "I'm sorry for making these assumptions, but they need help. If we help them, there is a strong chance they will help us. I didn't know what else to do."
There was a desperation in her voice that spoke volumes to him. Her confidence was irresolute at best, and he suppressed the desire to place a comforting hand on her shoulder as he had the watchman. The last time he'd touched her, she turned away. "I agree with your conclusions, Grey Warden."
"Really?" she asked, her voice shaking. She was taken aback, almost completely knocked off of her feet. For hours she'd been degrading herself in her own mind, but Cailan thought she'd done her best? How could he… Shaking her head, she gave a nervous laugh, "I wasn't expecting that. At all."
"Do not look so shocked," Cailan said with a grin. "There was nothing more you could do. If anything, you made wine from swamp water. I'm… Well, I'm impressed. I doubt any of the others could have pulled a wiser solution from the air under such pressure."
Isobel's lips twitched in a humble smile. "Thank you, your Majesty."
Cailan nodded, averting his eyes from the tiny, yet fetching curve of her mouth to look towards the men gathered around the campsite. "So, Isobel, what are we to do? I'll need your help rallying the men. I assume you have a plan?"
"I was hoping you would help with that," she admitted. "I have the beginnings of one and Ser Perth offered his assistance, but you are much more experience than I am."
"You'd be surprised how little I know," Cailan said, punctuating his own admission with a good natured laugh. Without another thought, he reached forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. She didn't shrug it off. Instead, she looked from the other men to his face. "Three minds are better than two, though, I suppose. I willingly offer my help. The fact that all I have learned of war tactics was from Loghain doesn't exactly inspire much self-confidence, but we shall see."
A full smile grew on Isobel's face, and Cailan found himself grinning like an idiot despite the impending flush of battle. "I have faith," was her soft reply. "Come. Ser Perth will be waiting for his King's guidance."
Cailan looked to her, genuinely surprised by her words.
"There are those still loyal to you, your Majesty. There are many."