Melisande trudged down the stairs, straightening her back before she entered the hall and joined her companions for breakfast. She was counting on Grey Warden stamina to hold her up, since she'd never fallen asleep. Borrowing an Antivan bella donna trick from her sister-in-law, she'd dropped a couple of drops of spindleweed solution into her eyes, to cover the red puffiness. Spindleweed for sorrow, Oriana had said.
They were shocked into silence at her appearance, none the less. Zevran might have whispered a curse. He'd told her once that hair like hers would fetch a king's ransom on the slave or whore market. So what price a king's life?
She raised an eyebrow and gave what was very likely the weakest smile she'd ever attempted. "Long hair is impractical. Always has been."
Sitting down, she tried to eat, ignoring them until they went back to their meals. Have to eat. The bread, good and soft and lightly sweet with honey lodged in her throat (and he and she had eaten loaves of it...toasted and spread with butter sitting before the fire after returning from Drakon and laughing at how the guard had stared at them when he'd seen them wrapped around each other...stop) and the porridge tasted like salt but she choked it down, anyway. She sipped at her tea as the others finished and then, when even Oghren had swiped the last of the gravy from his bowl, stood. "Come on, let's just go."
The gates out of Denerim were clogged with refugees streaming up from the south and west. Melisande had her well worn map, scavenged from the library at Highever, out, trying to conjure an easier way to Redcliffe when Riordan and Loghain joined them. She noticed that Wynne shifted away from Loghain, the elder mage taking care to place both Shale and Zevran between her and the newest member of their group.
Sighing, Melisande motioned for the teyrn to stand beside her. "Do you know of a route that isn't marked? Otherwise, we're going to be fighting the flow of bodies and broken down carts the whole way to Redcliffe."
After he brushed gloved fingers against the nearly invisible Cousland crest impressed into the scraped vellum, Loghain traced first one way and then another, before shaking his head. "Not without taking us a league out of our way, no. The main ways are as such for a reason. Easiest terrain, nearest sources of water."
Resigned, Melisande nodded. "Right. We travel off the road though, run it parallel. The less attention drawn to us, the better."
Riordan raised his brows at that. "You are no longer hunted, my friend. What keeps you from walking proudly as Wardens? For that matter, it would have been right for you to claim gear from the Warden stock. There was proper armor and insignia kept here, once." It rubbed against his sense of propriety to hide as a Warden.
"You mean besides plain sense? If we travel on the southern side of the road, any forward darkspawn will be drawn to us. Maybe we can run interference for the refugees." It had been Alistair's suggestion when they talked about it…before. Melisande regarded the senior Warden, coolly. "And I wear what I have earned."
Raising his hands in a conciliatory manner, Riordan shrugged. "Ah. Of course. I will not be joining your troop, though. I have to take a different route, for a bit of reconnaissance."
"You'll divide our force, now?" Loghain raised the question and Melisande had to swallow an urge to echo it.
"I have duties to the First Warden, to make a full report. I must see for myself." He added, when Melisande tried to offer her own experience. "Do not worry. I have no intention of confronting the enemy on my own. I only intend to observe. I will meet you at Redcliffe in…" considering the map, he shrugged, "Hrm. Three days. Fare you well, sister. Brother." The Orlesian bowed swiftly to them both and disappeared into the seething crowd.
"He is a fascinating fellow, your Riordan." Zevran commented dryly from her left.
"He isn't my anything, Zev. Come on then. We apparently are expected to whittle a week's journey by three days. Everyone stocked up? Morrigan? Do we need to be looking for ingredients along the way?"
"I have what I need." The witch assured her.
"Alright." Melisande glanced over her shoulder, to ask Alistair if he needed new socks. She'd meant to have some made and then…Oh.
"Let us go, yes? It will be interesting to see how the road has changed, with so many travelers." Touching her elbow lightly, Leliana gave her a sympathetic smile and Melisande did her best to return it, nudging Finbar with her foot to prod him up. With a 'wuff ', the mabari took point They weren't half a day down the road before an outlying band of darkspawn found them. Loghain was startled to find himself impressed with the orderly manner in which the companions set into the fray.
It seemed, too, that the young Cousland was quite the wicked little fighter. Her technique was interesting. She fought silently as a spirit with the look of a battle-tested soldier. And so she was. Loghain himself had helped make her so, in this last year.
As the companions took up their positions, she'd called to him. "Fill in where you're needed; the mages will need protection. Sten, you're with me." The qunari had given the Warden a sharp look but had only nodded and taken up a defensive position at her side.
He lost sight of Cousland as the battle separated them. The mages and the bard had scattered to the high ground and were picking off genlocks. Finding himself locked in combat with a tall Hurlock, Loghain was forced to abandon his observation.
Melisande had launched herself into battle with a fierce burst of energy. Finally, a chance to relieve some of her emotion, the pent-up stress. With Sten as her bulwark and Finbar charging, she spun and dodged, the lighter injuries she inflicted on the creatures laying them open to other attacks.
They were almost clear when she heard Wynne cry out. Sten was usually the older mage's protection, but Melisande had been reluctant to take Loghain into the heart of the fight. Turning to check on the mage, she missed that the genlock she'd just hamstrung hadn't been quite dead from the poisoned dagger to his throat. His broken blade cut into a thin place in her leathers, just under her ribs, and she twisted with a swallowed gasp, falling to a knee. Finbar charged back to her side.
"Kadan!" Sten finished off the slavering monster with a heavy boot to the jaw, breaking its neck.
She waved him off. "Fine, I'm fine. Go get Wynne." Reluctantly, Sten obeyed and Melisande bit the cork out of a bottle of healing potion, spilling it over the gash. As she moved her hand, blood spilled out between her fingers. The jagged metal had bitten deeply, pain lancing through her gut. She'd have been in trouble without the elfroot potion that Morrigan and Wynne kept them supplied with.
Glancing down, she saw that the wound was only partially closed. Frowning, she poured out another measure and felt the searing ache recede. The wound scabbed over but still didn't heal instantly. Either the potion was weak or the blade had been poisoned.
"Our beloved enchanter has taken a fearful tumble, I'm afraid," Zevran said behind her and Melisande tugged the leathers straight, hiding the injury. "She will need to camp tonight and recover."
Nodding, Melisande took his hand and managed to stand without wincing. "Take me to her!"
Wynne was propped against one of the chestnut trees that lined this part of the road, while Morrigan tended to a nasty bruise on the other woman's temple. Her arm, held gingerly against her chest, was clearly broken. She looked pale and very old and it wrung at Melisande's heart. Too often they'd relied on Wynne to keep them patched up and it was starting to tell on the mage. Melisande had a stronger batch of healing draught in her pack. Hopefully it would be enough to get her own wound healed up, since Morrigan's own limited skill was clearly going to be needed for Wynne.
Turning, she saw Loghain cleaning his blade. "Were you not told to watch…"
Wynne interrupted her. "I just stepped wrong, and fell off a rock, Warden. Do not blame him for this clumsy old woman's fault."
"Will she be all right?" Melisande asked Morrigan, who was now concentrating on the arm.
Finishing her task, Morrigan sighed. "Soon enough, I suppose. Age will not hasten her recovery but I will do what I can."
Chuckling, Wynne jibed, "I'm so glad for your bedside manner. No matter how blunt I am, you will always outdo me." Relieved from her pain, she turned a sharp eye on Melisande. "Are you well, Melisande?"
"Fine. I took a hit but I've taken care of it already." She showed Wynne the empty flask and it seemed to satisfy her. "Don't worry about me. We'll just set up camp and you can have a bit of a rest."
"Not on my account, dear. We need to keep moving if we're to make it to Redcliffe by the time you intend. Morrigan did quite well." And since Wynne's color was restored and she stood almost gracefully, Melisande decided to accept the assurance. They did need to keep moving.
They marched a couple of hours before Melisande called a brief halt. Taking the excuse of relieving herself, she examined her stomach. The wound had broken open again and was festering. Grimacing, Melisande poured the stronger potion over it. This time, she was pleased to see it closed over and the throbbing pain ebbed away, but the skin was thin and red. It itched and fitfully, she rubbed it. Finbar, bored with waiting, came to check on her and nudged the spot with a whine.
She scratched his ears. "I'm okay. See. All healed up." But he didn't seem to agree with her and nudged her stomach again with his big head. "I know. They don't need to worry about me, okay?"
With a low growl, the mabari seemed to agree and they went back to the group.
-000-
It was their second night just off the road to Redcliffe and Loghain was staring into the fire when Melisande came to take her watch.
He'd been pleasantly surprised. Most of what had come from being a Warden had been a joy. He had been quietly reveling in the return of his youthful vigor. The march hadn't worn on him as he had expected. Loghain kept waiting for the catch, outside of the fact that Melisande Cousland generally chose to ignore his existence, other than to set orders. It was a new experience taking orders. Hadn't happened since he was a boy at his father's side so many years ago. But he'd been made aware, that she was the one they would follow. They were her companions, though all but the old enchanter was easy enough in Loghain's company. He had yet to exchange a word with Wynne. Zevran had explained in a way, simply saying that she had been at Ostagar.
His honor had been the cost Loghain paid and paid gladly, in the end. All to save Ferelden. But it seemed that those of his new fellows who considered themselves Fereldan, did not see that the same way. It was something of a wonder that the Cousland girl had chosen to spare him, considering. He had yet to discover why.
Then the dreams…nightmares…had found him. Loghain had suffered a long night with the first of his Warden nightmares and found himself dreading the next as his watch ended and she arrived to take his place.
He watched her for a minute, slim and upright as the blades on her shoulder, as she stirred the fire and shifted the cast iron tea kettle to a cooler spot. She looked a great deal like Eleanor Cousland, now that he had a chance to observe her. Same delicate face, straight little nose, broad brow. Same bright, piercing silver- grey eyes. "Are the nightmares...do they continue?"
She arched her eyebrow. "Yes."
He caught her elbow as she turned to walk away and she looked at his fingers as though they were a particularly vile sort of blighted spider. Melisande didn't give him the satisfaction of feeling her jerk away, though. Not to mention, too sudden a movement might have her gasping in pain, but she wasn't about to reveal that either.
"Do you mean to tell me nothing of what I am now?"
"You mean dear Riordan didn't give you the Grand Tour? Surprising."
The teyrn dropped his hand, frustrated with her sarcasm. "He claimed that such things are better revealed gradually. To allow acclimation."
"I see."
Melisande turned to him, a cruel little smile playing on her lips. "Yes. The nightmares will continue. They will eat at your sanity. And they seem to be getting worse the closer to the horde we get. That's fun. I'm told they go away, eventually. When there isn't an Archdemon to feed them. When you aren't fighting nightmares or the darkspawn or...well, no, I suppose now we won't be fighting our own people now, so that's nice. But when you aren't fighting, you'll be starving, willing to eat your bootleather if you can't find anything else. That evens out though, six months or so. Still hungry, just not as urgent."
"I can..."
"You won't live that long." Loghain glared at Melisande, her expression cool and bland as if she'd just told him he might need to sharpen his blade. "Those of us who took the Joining young will die before we see our old age. The taint catches up, eventually. You become a ghoul or you do your best to die in battle. At your age, you won't be bothered by that, I imagine."
"Don't you have the nightmares?" His question was almost bitter.
Melisande raised her eyebrow, surprised. Well, she hadn't slept much the last night either.
"I don't have to be asleep to have nightmares." And, too, she'd continued to use Oriana's Antivan bella donna trick to hide her red puffed eyes and thanked her good-sister for it.
Wynne had tried sleep draughts in early days, for Melisande and Alistair, but they stopped taking them once they realized all that happened was that they were trapped in the Fade, unable to wake until the potion burned off. Bone stripped exhaustion was the only help until they'd discovered that sex worked. Oh, maybe she should…her smile turned nasty.
"Don't bother with potions. They'll make it worse. Sex works pretty well, though. Nice and rough. Preferably with your victims strewn about your feet." Melisande ignored the bile that crawled up her throat, referring to their lov…to their encounters…so crudely.
"Melisande!" Wynne's shocked reprimand rang through the camp over Zevran's chuckle from his bedroll, and Loghain noticed that the Enchanter, at least, could halt the Warden's acidic attack. He caught just a hint of shame in the downcast eyes before she focused on him to speak again.
Cousland spread her hands as if she'd laid a feast at his feet. "There. Now you know everything I know about being a Warden. Enjoy it, so long as it lasts."
Loghain looked like he'd swallowed his tongue. Now her smile had teeth and it was a brittle laugh that trailed her as she walked off towards an outcropping of rock to set up for her watch.
-000-
Blighted wolves ran into their march the next day, maddened and slavering. It was only a matter of a few of Leliana's well-placed arrows and several spells to put the damaged creatures down. Those with blades slit the throats of the wounded wolves before Morrigan could set the carcasses alight.
When they camped, a little ways from the field, to clean up, rest, and eat before marching on Wynne noticed Melisande stretching gingerly. "Do you need healing, dear?"
"No, thank you, Wynne." The enchanter frowned. The answer had been distant and polite, as Melisande had been at first after the Circle and ever since they had left Denerim. It was beginning to strain the friendships that had developed among the group. Wynne was surprised, in all honesty, to realize how much Alistair had softened Melisande's general attitude, how much of a buffer the good natured young man had been. The two Wardens had already been quite close by the time Wynne had joined the companions. Wynne rather thought it was a certain sort of shyness being complicated by the unmistakable grief that was causing Melisande to distance herself from her companions. None the less, it could not be allowed to continue.
"There's no reason for you to suffer, Melisande."
"I'm just a bit stiff from our forced march. No need to worry." The Warden sent Wynne one of her ever rarer smiles and Wynne allowed herself to be mollified.
"I'll put a bit of this valerian into your tea, then. It's good for muscle spasm."
"Ever so good to us, thank you." Melisande stood quietly until the tea had brewed and then took it, breathing in the steam before taking a delicate sip from the earthenware mug. "Even tastes good."
"Well, that's the ginger." And the elfroot that she'd added as well. She hadn't been a healer so long without learning what an injured person looked like, no matter how well Melisande dissembled. Wynne regarded the young woman as she sipped her tea. "This seems a defendable site. Can we camp here for the night?"
Concern brought Melisande's head up from where she was contemplating the swirling bits of tea leaf in the pale green brew. "Are you feeling alright? We certainly can stop, if you'd like."
Shrewdly, Wynne decided to play upon Melisande's tendency to coddle. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything. I can certainly keep up if we need to…"
"No, no. We can stop for the night. We've made good enough time in the last day." Swinging around, she called out, "Bodahn, let's pull out the tents. We could use a decent night's sleep!"
"As you like, Warden!"
"Bloody Stones, I thought we were just gonna march the whole sodding way in three days." Oghren dropped on the spot, where he'd been leaning against a tree, prying rocks out of the soles of his boots.
It was with a bit of relief that the rest of them set up full camp, even Shale had lumbered to a satisfyingly shady spot. Wynne considered it a good job done.
The valerian did, indeed, relax Melisande and, combined with another dose of healing potion, it allowed her to sleep. But it was a fitful rest and full of dreams of the Archdemon. Zevran and Leliana slipped into her tent after they turned the watch over to Sten and Shale. They found her curled up with her arms wrapped around her legs, staring at the brazier while Finbar huddled at her feet. Melisande didn't bother to turn her head towards them when they entered, silent as cats. "Go on to sleep, you two. We should break camp after the next watch."
Leliana sighed as she knelt beside her, gingerly, on the tumbled blankets, musty with fear and old sweat. "Oh, my friend, just let us stay."
Holy Beloved, make them go away. "I don't want you here. I'm fine."
"We are your backup, where else should we be?" Zevran sat behind her and drew her back against his narrow, whipcord frame. Exhausted, Melisande allowed it. Just a minute. Just a few minutes of comfort. Even Warden stamina couldn't hold out forever and, Maker, she was so bloody tired.
Leliana sat next to her and gently grasped her sword hand, rubbing the stiffness out of Melisande's scarred fingers. Seeing the toothmarks where Melisande had bitten her hand in an unconscious effort not to scream, the bard tsked and pulled a tin of ointment out of her pouch and dolloped on a small amount of the elfroot salve they all carried. The marks faded under her ministrations.
Lulled by the soothing, Melisande opened her mouth. She should thank them. She'd been such a bitch and…but what tumbled out was less than an apology and more a plea.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong to… Should I have...I was sure it was right to bring Loghain in...but Ali…he was right, wasn't he? Doesn't matter if I was right first. He won't ever forgive me. And I should have…there were other ways to save him. I could have made him stay behind, drugged him. I could have…We're meant to die, but I could have made sure it was me." Babbling, half incoherent, and huddled into Zevran's shoulder, Melisande missed the dark look Zevran and Leliana shared.
Crooning, Zevran consoled her. "He will, inamorata. We will persuade him. Who could resist the three of us, lovely as we are?" He stroked her cropped hair, sweated from the nightmare, rough and uncombed, Leliana hummed something low and gentle and eventually, Melisande slumped against him, asleep again.
Under her tunic, Zevran could feel the bandaging Melisande hadn't had the energy to change. Frowning he asked, "Did Melisande injure herself during the fight today?"
"I don't think so. She was well enough afterwards. I think Wynne gave her something for muscle stiffness. Why?"
"She has a wrap on her ribs." Deftly, he loosened Melisande's…ah, no Alistair's tunic from where it had wrapped around her. He'd thought it was too large…and pulled up the cloth to reveal her lean waist. There were fading bruises on her pale freckled skin and her ribs were showing. He took a small blade from a frowning Leliana and cut the bandage carefully away, only to suck in a startled breath.
An angry but healing gash snaked across the bared skin. It had been infected from the looks of it, puckering and the skin flaking, though it looked to be almost healed now. Her Warden's constitution or had she finally physicked it? Why in the name of Andraste…ah, but he recalled now. Wynne had been injured herself, after that last fight with darkspawn. Melisande might well have just tried to patch herself up. And without Alistair to check on her…foolish, stubborn woman.
"I'll get Wynne." Leliana stood gracefully and Zevran couldn't resist watching her elegant withdrawal, even as he tucked the blanket back around the exhausted Melisande.
Wynne managed to heal the Warden without too much of a fuss. She could scold the girl just as easily when she was awake and Maker knew that Melisande needed some sleep. They'd just finished when the Warden stiffened and reached for knife she kept strapped to her thigh. Zevran was very still looking into her icy grey eyes, narrow and suspicious, but he spoke in his normal, suggestive manner.
"Warden, perhaps we could save this sort of play until after we have saved Ferelden? Just in case you are too enthusiastic in your role? How will you ever defeat the Archdemon without me to distract it with my beauty?"
"Zevran? Why are you all in my tent?" Blinking sand out of her eyes, Melisande pulled the blade away and looked around, vague and bewildered.
Wynne answered her, caustically. "We were attending to the wound you've been neglecting. Honestly, Melisande. It's no bother for me to heal you if you require it."
"You had your own injury to deal with. I had it under control. It was healing."
"Yes, that's true. But it will scar now and I could have…"
With a small huff, Melisande answered, "It doesn't matter, Wynne. I'm not so vain that I can't stand a scar or two. It's not the first."
"Ah, well. It will not affect your loveliness, true. Some lovers like the stories such marks tell." Zevran kissed her fingers and stood. "I will return to my own bed then, Warden. Pleasant…hmm. Well, sleep well, inamorata."
With a final chiding look, Wynne pressed another mug of tea into Melisande's hand and withdrew as well.
Finbar curled at her feet, nudging her newly healed side with a decidedly approving gruff.
"Yes, I know. I'll be good from now on." She'd be doing them no favors if she allowed herself to become ineffective. There was a duty still and she would not fail in it.
And then?
Well. What happened in battle could never be determined until the final blow fell.
But she couldn't sleep again and only managed a couple of sips of tea before the dawning caught them.