I kept thinking about training sessions, Warden nightmares, all that sort of thing... they must really take it out of a person. This chapter was, rather appropriately, inspired by the Eels song "I Need Some Sleep". Enjoy.
Exhaustion
Morgana
It finally catches up with her after they take the ancient "poet-tree"'s branch; the barrier is suddenly too much, too mysterious. She sees the claw marks from their previous fights with the wolves; she sees Morrigan, sighing and leaning against a wall, supposedly out of boredom; she hears Leliana's still-ragged breathing, her friend giving her a smile and quickly standing straighter when she notices that she's being watched; she sees Alistair's worried expression - probably having the same thoughts as her - and his looser grip on his sword, hanging limply by his side and still slightly bloody. He gives her a crooked half-smile, but, in the same moment, brings his hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. She recognises that all too well.
"I think we should make camp before we advance on the wolves," she says, looking round at the group; her tone is questioning, but she's almost sure of their answers. "Does anyone protest?"
Her fellow Warden shakes his head with a sigh of relief, Leliana's smile grows wider, and Morrigan stands straighter. That settles it, then.
They walk until they find running water, and she, Leliana, Wynne and Morrigan move away from the camp to bathe.
She receives a rather unpleasant surprise when she looks at her own reflection; she swears those dark circles weren't under her eyes before. Leliana, who, of course, looks as fresh as ever, tells her, "This trip has taken its toll on us all. You are not the only one, I assure you." That's when the powder comes off, the water around the former bard turning a light grey as she washes her face, and Morgana spots her rubbing sleep out of her eyes, sees the same circles beginning to appear around the other woman's eyes.
Even after all this time, she still hates removing splintmail, and she wrinkles her nose at the task; what is underneath it, however, is a surprise. The slight softness from years in the Tower library - except for Anders, mages weren't exactly famed for their regular exercise - has faded, replaced by what seems like muscle, and she is no longer weighed down when carrying her armour. She turns her hands over in the water, unsure whether to be proud or dismayed at the new calluses, eventually just ignoring them and soaking in the water, glad of it.
Sleep doesn't last long. It never does, for a Warden.
She gasps as she wakes, images of the great, tainted dragon still flickering behind her eyelids, and, after pulling on a tunic, crawls out of her tent.
She slumps to the ground next to Alistair, who gives her a brave attempt at a smile, his own eyes still clouded with the remnants of sleep. "Long night, huh?"
She stretches, then sighs, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Mmm. Another one."
Usually, they stay with each other long after the others are sleeping, trying to delay the inevitable, but they both needed to rest; it seems the Archdemon has denied them even that, however, and, still bleary-eyed, they stare at the fire.
"It's different now, with the smites," he says quietly, and she looks to him, puzzled. "They take it out of you. It's even worse without lyrium."
She remembers the way he always seems to slump slightly after one, remembers how drained he seems after each lesson. It's never occurred to her that templars pay a price for them, too; her apology is soft and genuine. "I'm sorry. We've probably been pushing each other too hard."
The sigh, this time, is his. "Maybe. It's paid off, though." His smile is better this time, too, more awake, and, as usual, annoyingly infectious; she finds a grin of her own creeping onto her face as she asks, "Do you really think so?" She has an image of her fumbling with a dagger, still in robes, and winces.
"Yes." His response is wry where her question was hopeful. "Yes, I really do think so."
Her smile grows, then she becomes worried again. "Tomorrow?" They all know what's beyond that barrier.
He looks at her for a long moment, and there's something resigned behind his eyes. "What happens, happens. You're as ready as you can be " - he shrugs - "and for now, that's the best we can do."
The waking world is slipping out from under her before she can stop it, and she nearly doesn't hear his nervous question. "I'm not too terrible at this whole teaching thing, am I?"
She shakes her head as it gently hits the ground, a smile on her face, and the last words she says while awake are, "Not bad. Not bad at all."