Sorry this chapter took so long! I tried really, really hard to get it done before Dragon Age 2 came out...and that didn't happen. And then the game took over my life, lol, and it was only after I finished my first playthrough that I was like, "Fanfiction? Oh yeah..." AND THEN, that stupid error 2 message had me stumped. Thanks to Effiron for posting the solution, you're the best!
Some of my *cough*co-workers*cough* have demanded a part in this story, and I couldn't help but accommodate them. You don't see them this chapter, but they're there :P
"Was it…really necessary?" Sigrun asked into the heavy silence, even though she didn't actually disagree. She just felt like someone should at least attempt to protest the fact that they'd knocked the King of Ferelden out with drugs. Again.
Zevran gave her a patient look from where he was seated opposite her, but it was Oghren who answered, "Listen, girl, I don't like the foppy elf, either, but that weren't nothin' but mercy."
"Ah, Oghren, I have missed your smelly company, truly," Zevran drawled.
The dwarf ignored the assassin and looked up at her from sharpening his axe, his bleary eyes as serious as they could be. "You saw her, didn't ya?"
"I saw her," snapped Sigrun, and Nathaniel rubbed her back in soothing circles. They'd all seen her. The fight had been nearly finished, and when the King had spun around to see the slain would-be assassin behind him, everyone had noticed in one way or another. Then, you just had to follow the King's line of sight to see what he saw. Although by the time Sigrun had looked, she'd just seen the shadow of her Commander being hauled away by unseen hands.
"He will wake no worse for wear, I assure you," Zevran told her gently. He drew the sliver of a knife from where it hid on his belt. He tossed it into the air, catching it carefully. "Just a sleeping agent." He grinned suddenly, and waggled the blade at her. "You look tired, perhaps you could use a nap, as well. Just a tiny prick, you will wake up feeling quite refreshed."
"Not funny, Zevran," Nathaniel said, his hand stopping mid-motion on her back.
"Is that what you're going to tell the King when he gets up?" she sassed as she patted Nathaniel's knee.
"Perhaps." His grin grew more wicked, if that was possible. "Go take your archer somewhere, my dear, before he kills me with his glares of death."
Sigrun turned to look at Nathaniel, who was indeed trying to kill the former Crow through sheer eye contact. "Come on," she urged, yanking him to his feet. As they approached the line of lean-tos, Leliana emerged from one. Weariness showed in every line of the bard's body. "How's Anders?" Sigrun asked.
"He'll be on his feet in a few hours," she answered, a small smile of thanks on her lips. She half-turned, calling over her shoulder, "Which is, of course, sooner than I would like, but the stubborn mage refuses to lay down any longer than that!"
A thick string of curses greeted this statement from the lean-to.
"With that language, I'd say he's fine," Sigrun said.
"Thank you…for his life, Sigrun," Leliana said quietly, all traces of humor gone from her delicate face.
Sigrun blanched. What had she done, besides holler at the top of her lungs for help? If anything, she was to blame for the entire fiasco. But Leliana looked so tired Sigrun didn't have the heart to argue. Nodding, she ducked into the lean-to she and Nathaniel shared.
The archer settled down, and patted the ground next to him in invitation. Sigrun was happy to oblige. "You can't fool me, you know," he said out of nowhere.
"What?" she asked, tensing immediately.
He laughed a little, self-deprecatingly. "I've spent this entire time blaming myself for the Commander's abduction, so I'm pretty good at telling when other people are blaming themselves for things." He reached out and touched her cheek. "The fight was not your fault."
"How can you say that?" she whispered, even while a secret part of her cursed the perception brought on by lover's attentiveness. "I should've been paying attention, been looking for them."
"Zevran and I have been here for quite a while." He screwed up his face comically. "Lost track of how long, really. In that time, though, they hadn't sent out so much as a scouting party. We had no reason to think they'd start traipsing around now."
"But Anders-"
"You kept him safe until we got there," he interrupted. "No one could have done more."
She glared at him. "I'm getting nowhere in this conversation, am I?"
"Nowhere," Nathaniel told her. "Backwards, in fact."
"Good to know," she snorted.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said abruptly, snatching her hands in a sudden jerk. "When I heard you screaming my name…I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think. I thought-"
"I'm sorry," she said, fighting the urge to squirm. She hated that she was the cause of his distress. But his worry curled a warm, little tendril through her stomach. "I knew you'd save me," she said, squeezing his hands tightly.
His eyes filled with…something. "I don't know if your faith is touching or intimidating."
"Definitely touching." She gave him a quick kiss to prove her point.
He reached up as she tried to lean away, pulling her back in for another kiss. "Touching, you say?" he murmured against her lips.
"Touching," she repeated, but he practically swallowed her words as he kissed her. She couldn't help the sigh of pleasure, and had to bite back a moan as he very nearly purred in response, his chest vibrating under her hands.
How quiet could they be? One way to find out.
Sigrun slid her hands up, reaching for the clasps to his leather armor. Some of her bruises protested, but no matter. In fact, besides Anders, they'd all managed to keep their injuries to shallow cuts and bruises. Not a bad job for being taken completely off guard-
A short, furious roar that sounded like an angry bear made Sigrun jump out of Nathaniel's arms. It was very nearby. There was another bellow, followed a great racket of armor segments scattering around.
"Oh, Maker," Nathaniel groaned, and shoved himself out the lean-to. Sigrun was right behind him.
They emerged in time to see the King standing over Zevran, rage pouring off his body like water, shoulders shaking, chest heaving with every breath. He was no less imposing without his armor on.
Jacob was pressing his body against the King's legs, pushing backwards with every bit of his considerable strength, but the Warden didn't budge. Leliana had frozen on the opposite side of the fire, which was probably a testament to how tired she was. Anders had managed to haul himself out of his lean-to, pale-faced and swaying slightly on his feet. Oghren had placed his axe casually on the ground, and simply watched. Sigrun was shocked at his level-headedness.
Zevran, to his credit, merely looked up at the enraged monarch like he wasn't towering over the elf with murder in his eyes. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?" the assassin asked solicitously.
"Don't be flippant with me right now," the King snarled. His hand came up, and his fingers twitched at the bandage on his neck.
"You could have done nothing, my friend, save get yourself killed," Zevran responded quietly. "Take comfort in the fact that the drug's influence is clearly fading. She would not have been able to make that shot otherwise."
"Take comfort," he echoed in a hollow voice. He abruptly glanced at the sun, then drilled his eyes back into the elf. "You have two hours. If you don't give me a satisfactory plan by then, I'm offering myself in exchange for her freedom."
"Alistair," Leliana said, aghast. "You can't be serious. They want to assassinate you both! Offering yourself will do nothing except make that goal all the easier to accomplish!"
"Maybe the information's wrong," he snapped, turning to direct his wrath at her. "Maybe-"
"If it is wrong, and Grady is in charge, then you won't get her back until you surrender the crown!" Leliana retorted. "Think, Alistair, please!"
"They already know I'm here! What difference does it make?" he shouted.
"They know someone's here. They don't know who." Leliana folded her hands, desperation painting her face into harsh lines. "Please, don't be this way! Don't throw your life away-"
"My life is nothing without her!" he roared, veins standing out like cords beneath the skin of his neck.
"Are you quite finished?" Everyone spun to see Aideen and Aednat entering the camp, returning from a sweep of the nearby jungle they'd insisted on doing. "If you're trying to give them a reason to come down here," Aideen continued, "by all means, keep shouting." The elves kept walking, placing themselves blatantly between the King and Zevran. Aednat stood at the former Crow's shoulder, while Aideen didn't stop until she was almost against the Warden's chest. "The Commander would be appalled at you right now."
The King glared at her, turning slowly until he was completely facing her. Jacob tried pushing again, his body now wedged between the King's and Aideen's legs, paws sliding in the dirt as he scrambled for purchase.
Zevran got up then, but Aednat held him from going forward with a hand on his shoulder. He didn't try to shake her off, but he didn't acknowledge her either, his entire body focused on the pair facing off in front of him.
"You belong to her, yeah?" Aideen demanded. Without waiting for an answer, she hissed, "Then don't you think you'd better take it up with her before you get yourself killed?"
Lowering his face until it was mere inches from hers, the King stared. Out of the corner of her eye, Sigrun saw Zevran twitch minutely, and Aednat's fingers dig into his shoulder.
"Two hours," the King breathed into the elf's face, before spinning around and stalking off into the jungle. Jacob hurried after him, managing to give the entire camp an apologetic look before disappearing into the heavy bushes.
Everyone's breath rushed out at once, and Sigrun rubbed her face grimly. Apparently, last night had been a bit too much for the King.
"He'd been holding himself together so well," Leliana murmured. "Even the slips were only slight. He always…kept control. I'd thought-" She pressed her lips together, and her eyes filled with fear. "It's all undone. I don't hold the leash any more. There's no leash to hold." A short, bitter laugh fell out of her mouth.
"He won't do it," Aideen said into the silence.
"I wish I believed you," Anders replied, then winced and held his head.
"Sit down before you fall down," Nathaniel scolded as Leliana made her way over to enforce his words.
"In any case, we need a plan, yes?" Zevran said, giving Aednat's hand a squeeze. She smiled warmly at him. He gestured to Aideen. "Come, come, my dashing elves in shining armor."
"You think you can come up with something in two hours?" Sigrun asked tightly.
Zevran's eyes grew serious when he turned to her. "I know we must try."
Nathaniel reached down and grabbed her hand. She looked up at him, and he gave her a determined nod. She had no choice but to nod back. It would be a shame to fail now, wouldn't it?
First the sparks had just been stronger, brighter. Then they had flared up, like a fire growing as it swallowed tinder and kindling. It had continued to expand, until she felt lit up from the inside like a fancy, glass-paned lantern. The brightness in her head conquered the blackness of the windowless room easily.
Lorelai blinked in wonder as her body started trembling with the finest shivers.
She'd lost track of when it had began. She'd huddled in the windowless room, trying not to let the darkness overwhelm her. She'd been digging her fingertips into the stone walls to remind herself that they were still there, that she wasn't just floating in an ocean of black.
They hadn't roughed her up at all last night. Merely dragged her off the battlements and tossed her in a new cell. New room. When Leliana and Zevran returned to her old cell, they'd find nothing. Andraste, what a mess.
Worth it for Alistair's life.
That must have been why Brighid had insisted she go to the battlements. She'd known Alistair would have been killed without Lorelai. Was it simply kindness that had led her to save him, or did the girl know that he was her father? The ranger had shivered, and thought it was best not to dwell on that.
Then the sparks had started. And now, all the complications and worries could not stand up to the fire inside her. On a base level, it felt like her ranger abilities, but no animal she'd ever encounter had lit a blaze like this in her head. Normally, all the animals she could sense were like tiny fires in her brain, a constant warm glow. Soft. The fires only grew when she Called them, flinging that rope out toward their consciousness like they were drowning and she meant to haul them to safety.
But this… This fire blotted out all the rest, turning the warm, soft glow to something so bright Lorelai almost felt like squinting, even though the light wasn't real, not actually hurting her eyes.
The fire suddenly intensified, and Lorelai craned her head back, mouth opening in a silent scream. It didn't hurt, not exactly. But the power was immense. She knew instinctively that before she had been merely sensing the other presence. Now, she had been noticed, and had its undivided attention.
No animal had ever reached out to her. No animal had ever noticed her first.
She tried to reach into the brilliant light, find out what exactly she was dealing with. But she was rebuffed, shoved back into her own head insistently. The fire spread even more then. The darkness of the room was gone, the flame in her mind blinding her, making her eyes useless.
She barely felt the hands grab her, lifting her off the floor and dragging her…somewhere. The power swelled even further, pulsing down her entire body, cataloguing her functionality like a solider eying a new weapon in a vendor's stall. It hesitated over her stomach, reaching out gently to touch the growing child in her womb.
Lorelai was powerless against its invasion, and could only be mindlessly grateful when it pulled away from her unborn child without feeling the need to inspect him too thoroughly. The power receded slightly, she still couldn't see, but she no longer felt like a glove with someone else's hand shoved inside. Reflexively, she threw an unformed, frantic cry for help at the animal.
When she'd just started out as a ranger, that's all she'd been able to do. Before she'd learned the finesse of complex orders and polite approach, she had just been able to mentally shout "Help!" at the nearest creature and hope it came to her aid.
The fire seemed to freeze for a moment, before its interest became razor sharp.
[Help?]
Lorelai couldn't breathe for an instant. She didn't really communicate with animals in words, they didn't understand that. It was mostly a mixture of images, sometimes emotions, that got her point across. But whatever this was not only understood her amateur, wordless plea, but responded in her own language.
Andraste bless and keep her, what was this?
She was thrown to the ground, dropped to her hands and knees like a meddlesome street urchin. The animal retreated, the fire receding, just in time to allow her to feel the full impact of the stone floor. Lorelai blinked, breathing in harsh, huge gasps. She could see again, and she stared at the floor for a few moments trying not to panic.
"Leave us," demanded a strange, husky voice, and she heard the footsteps of those who'd brought her to the room fade and then vanish completely behind the sound of a door clicking shut.
Raising her eyes slowly, she found herself looking at a man. He lounged back in what looked to be an ornate chair, comfortable. His armor was pitted and broken, and the huge cloak that clung to his shoulders draped over the chair in folds. The hood of the cloak was drawn up, and his head was tilted forward, casting his whole face in shadow except for the very tip of his chin.
She felt more than saw his eyes lock with hers, and knew without question that this was the man behind this nightmare. The light in her mind flared momentarily, followed by what felt like thunder rumble between her temples. She supposed it could be a growl, but it didn't that throaty edge. It resonated like a storm rolling through a valley.
"So we finally get to see each other face to face," he said. "I've been waiting for this moment for quite some time."
Lorelai's mind prickled in fear, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, but the reason why eluded her. Obviously, this man was dangerous, but it was something more. Something worse.
He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. His head cocked abruptly to the side, like his neck had jerked involuntarily, his face still shadowed like a bottomless pit. His voice descended to a seething hiss. "Have you nothing to say to me, pretty Queen?"
She stiffened in terror. No, she was not left alone in a room with the man with that voice. With the man who spoke those words. "Who are you?" she forced out in no more than a whisper.
He sat back and threw up his hands in mock dismay. "Oh, how sad! To be forgotten so easily!" His voice had gone back to the husky, mostly-normal tone it had in the beginning.
Her mouth went so dry she could barely swallow. The fear in her chest threatened to strangle her. Just as she'd known that he was in charge, though that hadn't been a particularly difficult logical leap, she knew with horrifying certainty that the two different voices were not the same…person. Lorelai didn't know if he was aware of it or not, and she didn't know which would be worse: if he was or wasn't.
"Should I recognize you?" she asked. Her normal tactic of glare-and-be-silent did not seem wise in the face of such madness. He - or was it they? - wanted something from her, or she wouldn't be here. She was surprised he wasn't ranting about the fight, demanding to know who those outside the walls were, or asking how she got out of her cell. Her breath caught in her throat as she thought of Keep. Surely he was all right...unless he'd done something stupid. Andraste spare the man from being the idiot hero.
"You wound my heart, truly," he continued. He folded his hands comically over his chest. "I thought we were close."
"Maybe if I could see your face?" she demurred, lowering her eyes in what she hoped seemed like respect.
He wagged a finger at her like she was a naughty girl. "Ah, I don't know that you're ready for that." His body stiffened, hands clenching into fists. "Would not want to scare the pretty Queen. So tender, so fragile," he added in the grating, alien hiss.
Everything changed when his voice changed. His posture switched, becoming rigid. His body language turned aggressive. Every gesture and movement was hostile. It was literally like someone else had taken his place.
The presence in her mind roared forward, drowning everything in brilliant light. She was dimly aware of hanging her head and just trying to breathe as her vision was swallowed in blinding whiteness again. His voice, normal or otherwise, was blessedly gone in the rush of power.
With it gripping her so hard, she couldn't even begin to form a Call. Though with each bit of information she gathered about whatever animal it was, she wasn't sure she wanted to Call it. It pushed against her mind, like it wanted to leap out of her skin into the room.
Faintly, from what seemed like miles, she heard, "What is wrong with you?" The concern almost made her laugh…if she was capable of laughing.
The animal receded, but not nearly as far back as before. It stayed simmering just below the surface, water about to boil. But she could think, speak, see. Her skin felt electrified, everything shaking minutely.
She saw a pair of boots almost directly in front of her face, just beyond the curtain of her hair that hung in the way. Lorelai managed not to recoil at the thought that he was close enough to touch her, but it was only by a slim margin that she managed it.
"The drugs," she answered thickly. "It must be them. So…many doses." The hesitation in her words was not feigned in the slightest. It was so hard to speak clearly, so hard not to simply bellow in fear and rage. To knock him down and crush him beneath her feet.
Her breath came faster. Those thoughts were not her own, they belonged to-
He reached down, grabbing a thick handful of hair from the crown of her head. Hauling her up, he sat her back on her heels and gave her head a shake. "I knew from the choices you made that you had become weak, but I had no idea just how weak." From closer, the shadow beneath his deep hood wasn't so impenetrable. She tried to see some detail in the gray depths, but all her vision grasped was…scars. Mounds of them. Skin reformed to be jagged instead of smooth.
He released her suddenly, and she almost fell to the floor without him holding her up. Lorelai didn't respond to his accusation of weakness; she just concentrated on bracing herself with her arms, quivering palms pressed tightly against the stone.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you," he said, the beginnings of anger filling his voice. He paced away. "You're disgraceful!" He stopped suddenly and turned towards her with a jerk. "Perhaps there is nothing to be done with the pretty Queen," he hissed. "Perhaps I should show you the mercy I was never shown."
"Who didn't…show you mercy?" she got out between deep breaths.
His glare radiated heat at her like a fire. "Enough pretending!" he shouted, his voice walking a dangerous edge between the hiss and normal. "Your past behavior is hurtful as it is; don't make it worse by acting like you don't remember!"
"The scars. They gave them to you…instead of mercy?" she tried, doing her best to sound concerned.
His shoulders hunched forward, like he'd been struck from behind. "They did," he answered, his voice high and wavering. "They held me down and pressed hot brands to my face because I wouldn't rape-" He choked on what sounded like a sob.
That voice, piteous though it was, did raise some flag of awareness in her. But she couldn't place it, not with the animal in her head, filling her mind with crackling light.
"Your fault!" he shouted wildly. "My life, my-" he choked again "-miserable journey!" He waved his hands at her. "Blood all over my hands, but not because I killed anyone…because they killed everyone around me! They made me watch it all. Said if I wanted to be the hero so badly, that this was the punishment." His voice changed again, a shrill, mocking tone now. "'How's your last stand coming, ser? Still happy you covered the bitches escape? Want to tell us where they've gone yet?'"
Lorelai's body stiffened and something in her mind started screaming. Screaming loud and wild, like an injured animal…or a broken person. It pushed the fire between her temples back a bit further, allowing her sense of self to rise to the surface. "Show me…your face," she demanded, grinding the words out through gritted teeth. If she opened her mouth any wider, she feared the scream in her mind would become very, very audible.
"Pretty Queen, so bold and brave now," he hissed viscously. "She thinks she wants to see." He raised a hand and whipped the hood off. "Now pretend you don't know me."
First, all she saw was the scars brought to light. Mounds of flesh lumped in strange places, the entire left half of his face rearranged to look monstrous. Once the horror faded, other things started leaping out at her. The jaw line; she'd stared at it as a hormone-driven young girl and teased him about it as the maids fawned. The piercing eyes; quick to catch the squires misbehaving and just as quick to catch dinner on the run during a hunt. The overlong red hair; she'd always wondered if the flop into his eyes was accidental…or deliberately crafted.
"Gilmore," Lorelai moaned.