FIRST OFF MASSIVE APOLOGY TO THOSE WHO READ MY MESS OF THOUGHTS errrrr.... Yeah. Try and forget it all... half of it's probably all a lie... gah. Ruined it for everyone now... bollocks . I feel like a right tit now, I honestly have NO idea how that happened - buggery! Let's just put it down to me being generally addled in the brain by my dissertation and then uploading at midnight - note to self, never do that again. Thanks to Erynnar who messaged me about that... ohhh man. Talk about update fail. Right there. I'll just... go over here... *jumps off Fort Drakon*
Right. Now the real chapter.
Which probably isn't as exciting as some of my notes. Oops.
May upload a little extra chapter later as a doubly apology... A real chapter, not a mess of notes!
x.x.x.x.x
Spring was chilly in the Anderfels and there were still pockets of snow that had escaped the initial thaw in the shadier parts of the pass. Elissa was glad she bought her thick cloak in Vol Dorma before they attempted the trek up the mountain roads.
She was sat just inside the tent, her legs pulled up to her chest as she peered through a gap in the tent flap to keep an eye out for any trouble. Dawn was rapidly approaching, and she sighed, thinking perhaps she should start packing up camp soon.
They'd left Minrathous the day after the Satinalia festival and had been on the road for nearly three weeks – hopefully they would arrive in Weisshaupt later this afternoon, assuming of course that the traders' they had spoken to were true to their word and map: apparently the raggedy mountain passes smoothed out to well kept roads in a mile or two.
Elissa looked over at her sleeping companions. Darrian was splayed out on his stomach, snoring lightly, his arm over the mabari next to him. Elissa noted with some amusement that Madoc was about as long as Darrian, stretched out like he was.
True to his word, Darrian Tabris had proven to be a very skilled rogue. When they hit a spot of bandit bother last week the resulting fight went a lot quicker than when it was just Elissa and Madoc. On top of that they stumbled across a cache of tightly locked chests when they took shelter from a storm in a roadside cave last week – locks which Darrian made quick work of.
They had split their hoard of treasure evenly – Elissa opted to sell hers in Vol Dorma, hard coin being more useful than gems. Darrian had done the same save for one pouch. "For Shianni," he said with a small smile, tucking them into his pack. "Something for her to have and keep and not spend on drink – not that she's alcoholic or anything," he added hastily, "we never needed to drink, we just like to."
Darrian was fast becoming a good friend and part of Elissa was mildly wary of this. Not because of anything in Darrian's nature, not at all – in fact, for an elf that had been subject to the worst treatment from shems he was very open to Elissa. It was Darrian's Joining and the danger behind the ritual that had Elissa on edge. She had attempted to persuade Darrian to postpone his Joining until they returned to Ferelden but he was adamant he return to Denerim a Warden or not at all.
"I'm not going back just to get strung up," he had said vehemently.
She knew she shouldn't allow herself to get attached to him or used to having a travelling companion, just in case. She wondered how Duncan managed to go about his business ignoring the guilt of his actions – the excuse of "duty" could only go so far, she imagined. She was tempted to tell Darrian everything about being a Grey Warden, but she couldn't quite bring herself to do it. She tried to console herself with the fact that Darrian was quite enthused about the idea of being a Warden, and attempted to ignore the rest of the guilt gnawing at her.
Madoc's ears twitched, and, sensing his mistress was awake, stood up and stretched. Darrian's arm, which had been lying loosely across Madoc's back, slid off the now standing mabari and landed on the bedroll with a thump.
"Ow," Darrian murmured, opening one bleary eye to look at Madoc. "There are nicer ways to be woken up you know."
Madoc whined and licked Darrian's cheek in apology. The elf grimaced and wiped his face clean. "No need to apologise Madoc. Really," he added, warding off the enthusiastic mabari. "Go and pester Elissa. She's your boss."
"Aww, Madoc have you been rejected?" Elissa opened her arms wide to hug her mabari and gladly accepted the dog's slobbery affection. "Don't worry – I'll always love you."
"Even when he smells as bad as he does?"
Elissa gasped in mock indignation and covered Madoc's ears. "Don't you listen to him, Madoc, he cannot understand the importance of your warrior's parfum." She grinned at Darrian and scratched Madoc's back. "You were sleeping next to him comfortably enough."
"Yeah well... he's like a big hot water bottle and it's cold in here." Darrian sat up, his black hair ruffled and sleep mussed. "Is it dawn yet?"
"Almost. We'll start packing up now you're awake. Hopefully we'll be in Weisshaupt sometime this afternoon."
Darrian yawned, stretched and made a half-hearted attempt to flatten his hair before crawling out from his bedroll and changing into his armour. They packed quickly and quietly, ate a quick, light breakfast of what food they had left ("We'd better get to Weisshaupt this afternoon or we'll have to go hunting," Darrian commented) and headed north.
Elissa thanked Andraste for meeting at least one honest merchant on her travels – the road was probably built by the Ancient Tevinters but it was still in good condition. The road ran onto a massive bridge across a gorge, much like the one at Ostagar but this one was whole and intact. Elissa paused to look at the road ahead. "Nearly there," she said, pointing up to the shadowy silhouette in the distance.
"Good job too," Darrian said, scowling at the cloudy sky. "It's going to rain any minute now."
As if on cue, heavy drops of rain started to tumble from the heavens. Elissa laughed at the disgruntled look on Darrian's face as the rain quickly soaked his hair, his fringe plastered to his forehead.
The rain was cold. Cold rain plus cold air plus leather armour wasn't particularly pleasant, and though their cloaks warded against as much of the onslaught as they could, Elissa and Darrian were soon running through the rain to get to shelter under the crag of a rock. Madoc was panting and barking happily, jumping in the puddles that were rapidly pooling in the road.
Elissa smiled at her hound. There was something about the rain, as cold as it was, that was comforting. Elissa was reminded of Ferelden, and the miserable weather that often plagued the south. The cold sea storms that would fall over Highever each winter or the warm summer rain over the forests and fields.
Darrian looked at Elissa as if she was insane, his cloak wrapped tight around his shoulders. "Why are you laughing?"
"Why not?" she said between giggles. She reached out and thumped his arm affectionately. "Call yourself a Ferelden, Darrian? It's just a bit of rain!"
"Bit of rain? Bit of rain? It's bucketing it down!"
"Well, it doesn't look like it's going to be letting up any time soon. Think you can run a mile to the fortress?" Elissa leant into her companion and hip checked him. "Race you." She'd learnt that Darrian had a secret competitive streak that he often held back, claiming that it had got him into trouble more than once. Still, she saw no harm in indulging in such impulses on occasion and she grinned at him.
"Go onnnn the quicker we get to the fortress the quicker we can have a bath. Hopefully a hot one."
Darrian grinned back and suddenly sprinted out of the cave. "Hey!" Elissa shouted after him. "Cheater!"
"Rogue!" he corrected over his shoulder. Elissa laughed and quickly made an effort to catch up, Madoc at her heels. They were soon neck and neck, Darrian having slowed his pace graciously so she could close the distance, their cloaks billowing behind them as they ran across the bridge to the fortress gates.
They came to a halt in the shelter of the stone gate. Darrian squeeze water from his hair and Elissa wiped it from her face. Their efforts to dry were ruined when Madoc stood between them and shook methodically.
"Awwww, what? Madoc!" The two Fereldens looked at the mabari with matching looks of equal parts irritation and amusement, the euphoria from their sprint still running through their veins.
"I believe I win again," Darrian declared happily. Elissa was about to open her mouth to protest when another voice cut across them.
"Ahem."
Elissa and Darrian turned to the gate where a rather grumpy looking man stood, flanked by two guards. His dark beard and warrior's tail were streaked with grey, and deep set wrinkles betrayed his age. "I trust you have reason to be at Weisshaupt?" he said in Nevarran. "We do not offer shelter to travellers."
Elissa resisted the urge to scowl, reminded of Riordan's words to her about the cold nature of the wardens at Weisshaupt. Instead she smiled, her perfect political smile, and greeted her fellow Wardens with the traditional bow, her arms crossed and palms open. "Greetings, brothers," she said sweetly, ignore the unpleasant feeling of water dripping down her nose. "I apologise if my arrival has caused you any alarm – I doubt you were expecting me."
The frown deepened on the centre Warden's face. "You're a Warden? You... ah, yes, I sense it now. Which outpost are you from? Who's your Commander? Speak up!"
Elissa felt her patience rapidly wane, but maintained her polite aura. "I've not long left Minrathous. I've brought last month's reports on their behalf."
Elissa wondered if this man would ever stop frowning. "You're not part of Namina's contingent. What's your name?"
"Elissa," she replied smoothly. The warden to the right of the frowning one gasped, his eyes widening. He was young, probably a recent recruit on guard duty.
"Elissa?" he repeated. "Are you from Ferelden?"
"I've not been in Ferelden for many a month, but yes, that is where I was from. And recruited."
"Maker's breath," said the third warden, another young man. "It's her!"
"They finally realised you're one of them?" Darrian said to her in Ferelden as they were ushered into the fortress. "Took them long enough."
Elissa didn't bother to tell Darrian that actually they had finally realised who she was, not just that she was their sister-in-arms. She hadn't told Darrian the full story of her time in Ferelden - she had just told him the bare details of the situation in Ferelden but nothing of her involvement. She turned to the Senior Warden who had spoken to them to begin with.
"Who do I need to deliver Namina's reports to? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with the protocols with the management of the Order – there wasn't really much of one to manage when I was last in Ferelden," she added.
"The First Warden will take them off you when he comes to see you, I'm sure," the older Warden replied. "He will meet you in the Hall if you would wait there – just through those doors. Now if you will excuse me, I have recruits to discipline before they all abandon their duties to get a look at you. Maker watch over you, Sister."
"And you, ser," she replied as the man walked away.
"Now what?" Darrian said after a moment.
"This way," she said, walking to the double doors that lead into the hall that the Warden had indicated.
The hall was obviously the main centre of the fortress, with a high ceiling supported by eight massive columns which flanked the hall, four on each side. A deep blue carpet ran down the centre of the room up to a raised platform with a large table at the far end.
Darrian was entranced. The architecture was detailed and intricate, the heavy columns covered in carvings of warriors of every race and monsters of every size, locked in battle. In between each pair of columns was a large statue apparently depicting a Warden of some note.
"Duilius Carodel, Slayer of Dumat," he read from the plaque below the statue of a grizzled and angry looking Tevinter warrior brandishing a brutal looking warhammer. He walked across the room to look at the one opposite it, another burly human warrior, this one wielding a massive greatsword. "Luther, Scourge of Zazikel. Huh, I wonder why he hasn't got a surname." The elven rogue walked back across the room to look at the third monument. "Einarr of Rivain, Toth's Destruction." The subject of this monument was nowhere near as heavy set as the previous ones, and was depicted with daggers at his hips and pulling back on the drawstring of a longbow.
"Why are all this statues of humans?" Darrian grumbled. "I thought the Wardens were an order of equals? A-ha, that's more like it!" he added, looking up at the determined face of an elf, who was far from slight in terms of his race but merely looked it with his statue next to the burly Luther. "Garahel – Andoral's Judge. Hey, I've heard of him. Didn't he end a Blight? Elissa?" Darrian looked around. He thought she was behind him, but then he spotted her standing at the foot of the fifth and final statue in the room, in between the columns nearest to the dais on the opposite side. She had dropped her pack to the floor, her arms loose by her side.
"Elissa?" Darrian called again, walking up to her. Madoc, who was sat dutifully beside her, gave Darrian a reproachful look as if to say 'Shhh!' The elf said no more and looked at the statue that Elissa was staring at.
It had obviously only recently been finished, the stone shiny and new, especially in comparison to the other four in the hall. The warrior was human, armed with a shield emblazoned with Denerim's coat of arms and holding a longsword peppered with runes. Darrian's eyes dropped to the plaque at the warrior's feet.
King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden, Urthemiel's Bane.
'King Alistair of Ferelden?' Darrian thought, confused. He looked at Elissa, who's lips were pulled into a tight line, her jaw set. Her eyes looked suspiciously watery. Darrian tactfully remained silent and walked away towards the table on the dais, leaving her to her vigil and her thoughts. They had talked about her and her history – he knew she was from Highever, he had heard all about her brother and some of her friends. He knew she was a Warden and she fought darkspawn in Ferelden, but clearly he was missing a lot of the story and he was itching with curiosity. He curbed it, and busied himself instead with looking at the massive and detailed map of Thedas which was set into the table top under glass.
Elissa was... she didn't know. Her head was thinking a lot of things at once. She was prepared to see his name, hear is name, and certainly talk about him should she have been asked but to see his likeness... it was odd. The carver had obviously had a good look at him or been given a good description since the likeness was uncanny except for two things. Out of her muddle of thoughts she managed to pick out the two things, and decided that maybe if she focussed on them then maybe her head would fix itself.
One: he looked too serious.
Admittedly, you couldn't have a smiling statue or a hesitant or reluctant looking one (since that was probably Alistair's expressing the rest of the time), but still the seriousness looked a bit out of place.
Two: the runes on his sword were wrong.
The ones near the hilt were right, she was sure of it, but then for the other seven eighths of the sword they were wrong – as if the artist was guessing or something.
"I wonder what those runes all mean?"
Elissa looked up at Alistair as he came into their tent. She had been giving the blade the once over, cleaning it and making sure it was sound. "Whatever they mean, they are powerful. I can feel it, just by holding it."
Alistair sat down behind her, his legs going either side of her and his arms going around her waist. He pulled her into him and rested his head on her shoulder. "So are you going to use it?"
"Me? I've got Starfang."
"Yeah, but don't think I haven't seen you practicing your twirly whirly stuff with two full size weapons. Any day now your dagger will stay in its sheath and you'll have two swords on your back mark my words."
"Twirly whirly stuff?" Elissa queried, a dangerous note to her voice. Alistair quickly back pedalled.
"Well, magical spins of death then. I don't know, I'm your basic clumsy swordsman. I don't have your grace or style," he added pushing aside the loose opening of her tunic to press a kiss to her bare shoulder.
"That as may be," she said, sliding the blade back into its ornate sheath and trying to remain aloof and mock offended – which was increasingly difficult as Alistair's lips were moving sensually from her shoulder to her neck. She turned sideways in his arms, ignore his whine of protest as her neck was moved out of his reach. She ignored his pout and handed the sword to him. "It's not mine to wield."
Alistair looked from the proffered hilt to Elissa then back at the sword again. "Oh no. No-no-no-no. I can't... that was the King's! I can't use that. We'll store in and take it back to Denerim for when this is all over."
"Alistair. Whether you end up as King or not," she said, ignoring his flinch at the suggestion, "you are Maric's son. It is right that you wield this. You said it yourself that Cailan wanted to kill the Archdemon with it. This isn't an heirloom for the rulers of Ferelden – it is an heirloom for the line of Theirin. Take it. It's yours now."
"Warden Elissa?" a strange voice cut in suddenly, startling Elissa from her memories. She turned to the newcomer, an petit elf with black hair. She didn't have her staff with her but Elissa didn't need to see it to tell she was a mage – she could feel her magical talent. She didn't, however, dress like a normal mage, forgoing robes for an azure linen skirt and silver hauberk of finely woven chain. A plaited sash bearing a griffon buckle was clipped around her waist.
"That's me," Elissa said, turning her back on Alistair's monument and pulling her pack back onto her shoulder. She notice Darrian still avidly examining the map of Thedas. "Are you the First Warden?"
The elf chuckled and shook her head. "I'm afraid Jarlath is unavailable at present – he has just received an urgent missive from Hossberg which requires his immediate attention. I am Senior Warden Fiona – and I am very pleased to meet you at last. When we finally received word from Ferelden about your success well... relief doesn't quite describe it."
Ferelden's Warden smiled sadly. "It was not my success but his," she said, looking over her shoulder at the statue.
"The missives from your Queen say otherwise. Something about raising an army with old treaties, deposing a Regent, making a King and leading the final charge?"
"We do what we must," Elissa said flatly.
"That we do," Fiona admitted, "though I daresay other new recruits in your situation would have sought their peers in Orlais. But enough of this for now - let me take you and your companion to your quarters. No doubt you will be grateful for a hot bath following your experience with the Fellish weather."
x.x.x
One hot bath and meal later and Elissa was feeling infinitely better.
Their quarters were comfortable but practical, Elissa's room separated from Darrian's by a thick wall with equally thick door. Madoc was curled up on the bed, fast asleep. Evening was fast approaching, and she was due to meet Fiona – and hopefully the First Warden – shortly, but she had to make sure of something. She rapped her knuckles on the hard oak door. "Darrian?"
"Come in," came the muffled reply. She opened the door to see him lying on his bed with a black leather-bound book open in front of him.
"Found something interesting?"
"Hmm? Yeah..." he said, turning the page. "In amongst those massive history books on the shelf over there was this little thing. It's a skill manual – the writer calls himself a 'Shadow'." Darrian sat up but continued reading. "He details all sorts of poison and concealment techniques. I thought I might... borrow it."
Elissa grinned. "Well, it certainly sounds useful, and no one appears to be missing it if it was hidden amongst that lot. I say 'borrow' away. But I wanted to talk to you for a minute, if that's okay."
"Of course," he said, laying the manual beside him.
"I'm going to be seeing Fiona shortly to deliver the reports from Namina and give her the first-hand account of the situation in Ferelden -,"
"You ended it, didn't you? The Blight in Ferelden. I heard Fiona talking to you."
Elissa opened her mouth once or twice, unsure of what to say. "I... helped. Yes. But that's another matter. I'll tell you the full story later," she added, seeing Darrian open his mouth to ask another question. "I promise. I just wanted to make sure this is what you really wanted."
"Being a Warden?"
"Yes. It's not always as calm or glamorous as this – it's not glamorous at all actually," she said sincerely. "We sacrifice an awful lot to become what we are. And there's no going back. I can't explain it properly, not yet, but I can assure you that it's not a decision to be made lightly. Aside from that, I don't know the state of play in Ferelden – I know we have a base and an arling now, and that a contingent of Orlesian Wardens is setting up the basics there -,"
"I bet that's going down well," Darrian muttered.
"...quite. Anyway. If you're still sure you want to be a Warden, then come with me to see Fiona. If not, then you can stay here and I'll get you back to Ferelden, wrangle a pardon out of the Queen for you and you can go about your life."
"I said I'd follow you and prove myself to you," Darrian said seriously. "I will do it."
"The Joining could kill you," Elissa blurted out. Darrian merely shrugged.
"If it that is how it is meant to be then so be it. I've had a good time travelling with you and I thank you for freeing me and my own. And for the chance to make something of myself. Not many elves get such an opportunity."
Elissa sighed and nodded. "As you wish." She stood up and went back to her room to fetch the papers.
"Elissa," Darrian said as she reached the doorway. She stopped and faced him.
"Do you... think I'll make a good Warden?"
She nodded, and her reply was honest and true. "I think you'll make a great Warden."
And the smile on his face then was enough to dispel her doubts. She had no choice to Join, but he did, and he wanted to. She would arrange his Joining and no matter what happened she would have no regrets.
x.x.x
Fiona was waiting for them in the Hall along with another Warden. His hair was ash blonde and bound in a tight warrior's braid at the back of his head, and he wore a deep blue doublet and practical leather trousers.
"Apologies for our late arrival," said Elissa, bowing to her brother and sister. "The corridors of Weisshaupt are quite a maze."
Fiona smiled and beckoned her forward. "Elissa, this is First Warden Jarlath. Jarlath, Elissa of Ferelden and her companion... Darrian was it?"
"Actually," Elissa cut across Darrian's attempt to confirm Fiona's statement. " Darrian is my recruit. He is a very skilled fighter, and Ferelden born, so a welcome addition to our numbers in the country. I was hoping it would be possible to have him take his Joining here in Weisshaupt."
"But of course," the First Warden replied. He had a deep voice that only carried a slight trace of a Fellish accent. "Fiona, would you mind making the preparations?"
"Of course, First Warden," Fiona said, making a swift exit. Once she had left, Jarlath reached out to take both of Elissa's hands in his own.
"Elissa, it is truly marvellous to see you at last," he said, and from what Elissa could tell, he was being sincere. Then again, she could also tell he was a practiced politician, meaning that any empty flattery would be cleverly disguised as the real deal. "Your actions in Ferelden were an inspiration to us all. Had the Blight spread to the central lands... well, tensions between Orlais and Nevarra would have been difficult to resolve, not to mention the general dislike the rest of Thedas has for Tevinter. The swiftness of your dispatch of the Archdemon meant you saved us having to play yet more political games and thus saved a lot of lives, Warden and civilian alike."
Elissa inclined her head. "I was under the impression that Wardens refrained from mixing in politics."
"We refrain from siding with countries in their wars, that is true," Jarlath admitted. "But as you no doubt discovered in Ferelden, sometimes it is necessary for us to... intervene. For the benefit of the country, you understand. I think it is safe to say we refrain from being openly political."
Elissa said no more and instead turned to Darrian, who handed her Namina's folder. "The reports from Senior Warden Namina. She apologises for the delay asked that I deliver them on her behalf – the darkspawn activity in the High Reaches has been such that they may be able to reclaim a whole thaig on behalf of Kal-Sharok. She's using every Warden she has to make the best of the Thaw."
"Ever practical is our Namina," Jarlath admitted. "One of Warden-Commander Kalem's finest. I'm glad you had a chance to meet her. You have my thanks for running her errand – but it is Ferelden that I would like to talk about."
"Of course."
"I'm intrigued as to why you left Ferelden. As the last native Warden in your country... well, Ferelden needs you."
Elissa opened her mouth and then closed it again, her eyes flicking to the statue of Alistair over the First Warden's shoulder. Jarlath turned slightly to follow her line of sight. "Ah," he said. "So the rumours are true."
"My apologies, First Warden," Elissa said. "I can understand that our conduct was probably less than orthodox but-"
"No, no," Jarlath said quickly. "There are no rules against it. Indeed, it is widely accepted that only a Warden can understand a Warden. From what I can gather from various sources, ultimately you led the army and Alistair through the various battles you had."
"That is true."
"And, judging from your... holiday..." Jarlath said quietly, mindful of Darrian's presence, "you did not intend for Alistair to have the final blow."
"...correct," Elissa admitted.
Jarlath paused, considering his next words carefully. "Are you intending to return to Ferelden?"
"Yes of course!" Elissa replied. "Not immediately however – I have business to attend to in Val Royeaux, so I won't be crossing the Waking Sea from Cumberland, I'll be going to long way around." The business was a lie – Elissa just wanted to see Val Royeaux. But Jarlath didn't need to know that. "As a result, I don't know when I will be back in the country."
"I see. Well, when you return to Ferelden, I would be most appreciative if you would consider the Warden Commander post. It would be better for our fragile relationship with Ferelden if the head of the Wardens was one of their own. I'm not asking you to make a decision now," he added, seeing Elissa open her mouth to respond, "just for you to consider it."
Elissa hesitated. "I will think on it."
Jarlath smiled. "You have my thanks. No if you will excuse me, I'm afraid I can see another emissary from Hossberg hovering outside the Hall." Elissa looked over her shoulder and indeed, a messenger was fidgeting in the corridor. "Fiona will be back soon, I would think. It has been good to meet you, Sister," Jarlath added, extending his arm to Elissa. Elissa grasped his forearm and him hers in a typical exchange of respect between warriors. Jarlath added an affectionate pat to her shoulder, took the folder of reports from the tables and turned to Darrian.
"Best of luck with your Joining," he said before leaving the Hall to meet the waiting messenger.
Darrian let out the breath he was unaware he was holding and looked to Elissa on his left. "So that was the big boss?"
"Apparently so," Elissa said. She was staring down at the table top, her fingers resting on where Ferelden was on the map.
The elf tried to catch Elissa's eye. "Will you tell me the full story now? Before... before I go to Join?"
Elissa looked up, her blue eyes meeting his green. She looked back down at the map, her index finger resting gently on Highever on the Waking sea coast. "I was a noble before I was a Grey Warden. The daughter of Teryn Bryce Cousland," she said with a small smile. "The darkspawn were massing in the south, and my father and brother were going to answer the King's call to arms..."
Elissa kept the story as brief as she could, telling Darrian about how she was recruited, the betrayal at Ostagar, how she and Alistair ended up as the last two Wardens. She didn't go into detail about each disaster she had to fix in the various areas, she just traced their journey with her finger on the map. She spoke of how she made Alistair king, declared herself his consort and led an army for him and then, at the final battle, how he died. She didn't hold back on details like Jarlath had – there was no going back for Darrian now and he knew this as well as she.
"And now you're here," Darrian said quietly in the wake of her story.
"And now I'm here," she affirmed.
"Will you take the Warden-Commander post in Ferelden?"
"Probably," Elissa said with a sigh. "When I get there anyway. It is my duty, I suppose."
Darrian nodded. "Good. I wouldn't want some Orlesian as my Commander."
There was a soft chuckle from the doorway and Fiona stepped into the room. "It's good to know that some rivalrys will never die. If you would both follow me to the Chapel – your Joining awaits, young Darrian."
Darrian's eyes flicked to Elissa then back to the Fiona. He straightened his shoulders and walked to Fiona, Elissa not far behind.
The Chapel was a windowless room, built in a perfect circle with a circular stone table bearing the Joining Chalice at its centre. Fiona closed the door behind her and light the torches around them with her hands. The walls were a continuous mural, a detailed painting of a massive battle, darkspawn on one half and Wardens on the other.
Fiona stood on the opposite side of the altar, framed by the mural at the point where darkspawn and Wardens clashed. "During the first Blight," she said clearly, "when our ancestors stood on the brink of destruction, the Grey Wardens were founded. An order of men and women dedicated to fighting the darkspawn, and giving their lives to that end."
Elissa walked to the right of the altar and stood silently near the wall, the Wardens behind her and the darkspawn opposite her on the other side. She crossed her wrists behind her back and stood perfectly straight and still, her eyes fixed on the darkspawn painted on the opposite wall. She was nervous. Scared, even. She didn't feel like this at her own Joining – probably because at the time she felt she had nothing to lose. Fiona continued her speech.
"Our immunity to the taint, our strength and our sacrifice comes from the very creatures we strive against," the Orlesian elf said. "To master the taint within ourselves," she said, gesturing to the chalice in front of her, "we must first drink of it. To this you are called to submit for the greater good."
Darrian stepped forward and peered into the cup warily. Black-red blood was settled in the chalice. "Is that... darkspawn blood?" he asked.
Elissa nodded stiffly. "Yes," Fiona confirmed.
"Isn't it poisonous?"
"To some," Fiona explained, "and certainly when the taint is not controlled. This darkspawn blood has been treated with lyrium and the blood of an Archdemon – you will either master the taint and take it within yourself, or die."
Darrian took a deep breath and let it out with a low whistle. "Wow. You don't dress it up, do you?"
Fiona ignored his glib remark. "We speak but a few words before the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Elissa – if you would?"
Inside, Elissa sighed. Replace "Elissa" with "Alistair" and then Fiona's word would have been exactly the same as Duncan's at her Joining all that time ago. Clearly, there was a script for this. She took a steadying breath, and tried to get the words just right, just as Alistair did at Ostagar.
"Join us, brothers and sisters," she intoned. "Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten - and that, one day, we shall join you."
Darrian looked at Elissa. The look on her face was so serious. He caught her eye and raised an eyebrow, a smirk on his face. "Cheer up, Commander," he said happily, reaching for the chalice. "This can't be worse than what those Tevinters called water. Or Shianni's cooking."
Elissa's mouth twitched at one corner into a small smile. Darrian grinned at her and brandished the chalice in toast. "To freedom."
Elissa watched with bated breath as Darrian gulped down some of the blood. He gagged, swallowed, and hastily replaced the cup back on the altar. His eyes shone white and rolled back into his head as he fell in a heap on the floor.
Fiona stepped around the altar and knelt to press her fingers to his pulse. "He lives, Elissa."
Elissa let out the breath she had been holding. "Thank the Maker," she said. She walked towards them and bent down to lift Darrian off the floor. He was still slight thanks to his ordeal with the Tevinters, and Elissa's strength made lifting him no trouble.
"The infirmary is not far from here," Fiona said. "I'll take you there and make sure he is comfortable. He can be monitored there in case of any after effects from the Joining."
"Well isn't he spoilt," Elissa said, a tad jealous.
"Hm?" Fiona queried as she opened the door to the corridor. "Oh yes – you were thrown straight into battle follow your Joining, weren't you?"
"Yes, at Ostagar... wait... you were there when I was talking to Darrian?"
Fiona smiled. "It is the main Hall. Anyone could have been listening."
"...true," admitted Elissa grudgingly. She followed the elf mage into the empty infirmary, and laid Darrian down on one of the clean beds.
"The patrols for this week have only just been sent out," Fiona said, lighting the laterns with her magic. "Hence why the infirmary is empty. No doubt we'll be full soon enough – it depends how cautious the Seniors are when hunting the spawn."
Elissa sat down on the bed next to Darrian's as Fiona busied herself with filling a jug of water and setting it on the besides table. The mage then sat down on the chair between the two beds. Silence fell between them until Fiona broke it. "You've had a rough time of it, haven't you?"
Elissa snorted. "I guess so. I haven't really thought about it much since I left – not looking back, just taking one day at a time, picking a town on the map and getting there. Learning new things, seeing new things, not bound by duty or people's expectations. Odd, that I spend all my life learning about duty and how to exercise it best, then one year of solidly doing just that and I've had enough," she said with a laugh. She looked at Fiona who was watching her intently. "I'm sorry – you don't need to hear all this. The ramblings of a Grey Warden born from a Blight."
"No, go on," Fiona said with a smile. "It's good to get things like this off your chest. You met Darrian in Minrathous did you not? And even then, you were scared to open up to him in case he died tonight. In that respect, you've been travelling alone for a very long time."
"I've had Madoc," Elissa said. "My mabari."
Fiona laughed again. "Ah yes, you Fereldens and your dogs. Well, I've had the pleasure of travelling and fighting with a warrior and his mabari before, but as intelligent as they are, they are not the same."
"I suppose," Elissa conceded. She swallowed and tried to sort out the thoughts in her head. "It's like," she started… "like I don't know where I'm going anymore. I never thought I would survive the Blight – and hell, that night before when Riordan told us the reason for Grey Wardens… and then Morrigan…" Elissa shook her head quickly, knowing she should not say anymore. She ignored Fiona's questioning glance and pressed on. "I knew I wasn't going to survive the Blight. And then I did. And now I'm lost, cut adrift. Living beyond my time. I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Fiona nodded and smiled to herself, familiar with that feeling. "You will find a use for that time, have no fear. I daresay you've learnt a lot about yourself on your travels. And you have family and friends waiting for you in Ferelden, no?"
"Yes," Elissa said with a smile. "That is true. I... thank you Fiona. Truly. I do feel better now."
The conversation stopped as Darrian twitched suddenly, his brow furrowing. He rolled onto his side and curled up, his hands balling into fists. Fiona stood up, her hands glowing with a blue light as she touched the younger elf's forehead, relaxing him.
"What's your school specialisation?" Elissa asked. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."
"Not at all," Fiona replied, sitting back down now that Darrian was a bit more settled. "Most of my spells are from the schools of primal and creation – though given my age, I've got a capable understanding and collection of spells from spirit and entropy too."
"You can't be older than thirty, surely?"
Fiona laughed. "I'm over forty. I suppose being an elf has its advantages in that respect – we do age well."
"Your talents wouldn't happen to extend to Healing, would they?"
"They do indeed. I run the Infirmary here."
Elissa shifted uncomfortably. "Could I possibly ask for your expert opinion on something?"
Fiona tilted her head. "Of course."
Elissa unstrapped her right leather glove, pulled it off then shrugged off her elbow guard. She unclipped the shoulder pauldron and slipped her arm from the leather sleeve. Fiona noted that her right arms was swathed in a bandage, from her shoulder right up to her wrist. Elissa began to unwind the bandage and the elf mage stood up to get a better look.
"Maker's breath," she breathed. "I... how did this happen?"
Elissa smiled ruefully. "The Archdemon. Coupled with metal shards and refusing to be healed for hours, I imagine."
Her arm was smothered in scar tissue, the skin melded in swirls from her wrist to over her shoulder. It was raised in places, pitted in others, and interspersed amidst the swirling pattern were two rows of puncture marks, one on top of the arm and one below, some of this punctures flanked by smaller white scar lines. The scarring itself was akin to that of a burn, but the colouring of some of the raised swirls was a deep and malicious looking purple. From a distance, Fiona supposed that it would look like an intricate tattoo.
"It was grounded – Riordan saw to that – but it was causing havoc on the roof of Fort Drakon. I had men manning the ballistas, but I needed to keep its attention to stop it destroying those, or we'd have had no chance of weakening it. And at one point I wasn't fast enough – it lunged, I span out of the way to stop it severing my arm at least, but it still caught me between its jaws," she said, lifting her arm to show the two matching rows. "My splintmail shattered at each puncture point – that's what all these white lines are. I was stuck, it didn't want to let me go so it did what any dragon normally does."
"Breathed fire."
"Quite. Except it wasn't regular fire – it was purple. And it didn't remove my skin so much as melt it. And my splintmail."
"It melted your splintmail onto your arm?" Fiona said with alarm.
"No all the way no – the fire almost went beyond the dragonbone, melting my skin before the armour."
"Corrupted spirit fire," Fiona surmised.
"Come again?"
"Spirit fire – it's a primary component to the arcane bolt, I'm sure you've seen those in action. Most dragon's are resistant to it. You were lucky your splintmail was dragonbone. Any other armour would have melted to your skin at such an onslaught. Unfortunately it can't shield against the attack – which is why your skin was still damaged. How did you get free?"
"Thanks to Alistair and a well placed shield bash to its eye. My arm was still stuck on its teeth for a moment though so it was wrenched – badly. I could barely use my main sword arm for the rest of the battle."
Fiona looked at Elissa's arm more closely. "Whoever healed it is good at their job. There's nothing more I can do for it."
"Ah, well, it's not really the scarring that's the problem – I'm getting used to the idea that nothing can be done about that. Wynne's an exceptional healer. Without her I'd be a walking map of scars, all over."
"If you're getting used to the idea then why do you cover it up?"
Elissa smirked. "I'm still getting used to the idea. Others won't have the chance to. They'll ask questions or pass comment or something. It's not exactly a scar with an easy explanation, or one that can just be passed off like these," she said, pointing to the arrow marks on her collarbone.
"Ah... I see your point."
"Anyway, it's here that I wanted you to have a look at," Elissa said, lowering her arm and putting a hand over where the back of her shoulder met her body. "It's really tight here when I do this," she said, pulling her arm backwards. "Partly from when my arm was wrenched and partly because of the burn. So I was wondering whether there is a way to sort of... loosen the scarring there. And maybe check the muscles underneath? I've been doing the exercises Wynne said to do, and they mostly work but it's when I do..." she made the move again and winced, "that."
Fiona scowled. "I get the point, no stop doing that – you might make whatever it is worse. And keep still." She held her glowing hands over Elissa's shoulder. "The muscles are okay – you were right about the scarring. Your skin's too tight around the muscle – I'll try and loosen that off now, but keep up with those muscle exercises too. They will help stretch the skin and free up your movement."
At that moment Darrian stirred. "Owwwww," he said, rolling over on to his back. "Those... things. Were they darkspawn? Ugh... my mouth feels like its burning."
"There's water on the side table," Fiona said, rotating her hovering hand over Elissa's back.
"Thanks," he said, sitting up gingerly and reaching for the jug. He gulped down the water and swilled it around his mouth. "Is that... normal? The dreams?"
"Yes," Elissa and Fiona said together.
"They come and go," Elissa continued. "You learn to sort of block them out eventually. Be thankful you didn't Join during a Blight," she added, remembering her first nightmare. "Nothing quite ruins your sleep so much as an Archdemon screaming in your face."
Darrian grimaced. "I can imagine. Though those big ones were rather... Hessarian's mercy, what happened to your arm?"
"Nothing new," Elissa said. "Old injury. I'll explain later," she said. "I promise," she added, seeing the rebellious look on his face.
"Yes well," Darrian said grumpily, swallowing some more water. "I didn't die and I'm a Grey Warden now, right? So no more secrets or sketchy details."
Elissa grinned. "Yes ser. Maybe you ought to be Warden Commander when we get back to Ferelden."
"Err..." Darrian flustered. "No thanks. I'll settle for your right hand though – enough responsibility to be important but not so much that I have to take the blame for everything. Or make the big decisions."
"Thanks, Darrian, your support is most welcome," Elissa said dryly. Darrian snickered.
"So now what, Commander?" Darrian said, stretching his arms.
"I'm not a Commander."
"Yet."
"Precisely, so just Elissa is fine."
"Okay then, so now what just-Elissa?"
"You can both shut up while I finished this," Fiona snapped. Elissa and Darrian both fell silent, not looking at each other in case they started to laugh. "There. Done. Try moving your arm now."
Elissa rolled her shoulder tentatively then proceed to make more vigourous gestures. "That's brilliant! Thank you so much, Fiona – I can slice and dice a lot easier now," she said with a smile. Now Darrian was awake and apparently none worse for wear, Elissa's tensions had all but melted away. She turned to look at Fiona and stopped suddenly.
Fiona blinked, her brown eyes regarding Elissa with concern. "Elissa? Are you okay?"
"I... yes," she said breathlessly. "Yes I am. It's just..." Your eyes reminded me of someone. Elissa shook her head. "I'm probably just tired, that's all. It's been a long day. So! The plan!" she declared, looking back at Darrian with a grin.
"With the First Warden's permission we'll stay in Weisshaupt for a few weeks – I'll try and arrange to take you on some patrols, kills some darkspawn, the practical things. And I need to hit the library to get my Warden knowledge fully up to scratch," she said, "my piecemeal 'This is what Duncan mentioned' tidbits from Alistair, while mildly useful, were hardly the full course..."
Fiona watched Elissa and Darrian leave the infirmary, chatting about what they would do here and where they would go next. The elven mage couldn't help but smile. Her heart ached for her son, but she knew that her son died for the noblest of causes.
Maybe I will return to Ferelden one day, Fiona thought. Twenty years of Weisshaupt was beginning to grate on her – and she was running out of books to read. There I could tell her the truth without worrying about repercussions. And then, Fiona thought with a smile to herself, then I could thank her for saving my son.
x.x.x.x
Whew! Another long chapter. I thought about splitting it up, but I don't really have anything else exciting to happen at Weisshaupt for our Elissa. I'm actually quite annoyed at myself that I've managed to write so much for the parts that are merely leading into the plot parts lol. Oh well – I hope you're enjoying them anyway.
Please review! Reviews make me happy!
Sorry again for the fuckup... looooool _