Lingering glances reflected the not-so secret they shared of their passion from the night before. Giggles and playful nudges passed back and forth as they walked that morning through a nearby village on their way to the Brecilian Forest.
Darkspawn attacked, as usual. They came to expect as much during their Blight travels. The fight was quick, and the darkspawn eliminated. The oddball collection of mages and warriors had done this enough times to know how to effectively demolish these enemies, now little more than bothersome.
The village was deserted, abandoned- as many villages were in their journey. Villagers fled to find safe haven, and those left died when their town was attacked by darkspawn.
Caoilainn suggested they split up into pairs to cover more space; as always, Alistair was at her side. The party scavenged for what they could, supplies, food, money, and items they could sell.
Floorboards creaked in the abandoned home Caoilainn and Alistair entered. Exploring with care, and showing whatever respect they could to the home that was no longer occupied, they opened chests, cabinets and drawers to find anything of value. Caoilainn insisted they take every effort to leave undisturbed that which was not essential.
She walked with soft steps into a bedroom. A child's room, she quickly determined by the small bed, and toys littered on the floor. Thick dust clung to the surfaces and floated in the air. Boot prints, impressions in the dust left with each step. Her breath held as she explored. Tender, delicately, she lifted a wooden figure from the floor. It was a knight, with a small sword and shield. This was a boy's room.
Oberon, her mabari, barked from outside. Her gaze locked onto the toy. Screams, blood-curdling cries sounded in her mind; the yelling made her heart race. She closed her eyes to make the noises go away. This had happened before; she knew it wasn't real. But it was too late to stop it. Losing connection with her body, her fingers went numb. The room disappeared from around her, and there she was, back in Castle Cousland. Throat choked with dread as she opened the door from her room to the commotion. The memory blurred, there were enemies, fighting, fear. She had been taught how to fight and the movements came naturally, but she had never killed a man until now. It was frighteningly easy.
Then she found Oren's body and Oriana's lay next to it. Tears streamed down her face, hot from panic. Her cheeks blanched, and the toy dropped from her hand.
"My love?" A voice cooed from far away, too far from where she was in this memory. Hands touched her shoulders, but she couldn't feel them. She was numb.
She stepped into the larder and saw her father lying, bleeding everywhere. Her heart stopped, she couldn't speak. Mother was right by her side. They both encouraged her. 'She will leave her mark on the world.' Tears poured.
She couldn't breathe and she gasped. Flashes of the surrounding room showed Alistair, caring, reaching out. "Caoilainn!" He called, but he sounded distant, like a dream.
'Then… go pup. Warn your brother. Know that you do us proud.'
The room came back, but she lost all support from her knees. Everything went black; Alistair caught her. "Caoilainn, my love. You're all right. Wake up." He stroked her hair, worry present in his voice but he didn't sound surprised, as if he had seen this before. He blew softly on her face.
Her eyelids fluttered open, the room around her came into focus. The man holding her now clear. Alistair, armored, knelt with one knee to the ground, holding her in his arms. Blood rushed back to her face. The air cool against her tear-stained cheeks. Caoilainn gave Alistair a weak smile and then wrapped her arms around his neck. He reciprocated the hug.
"Thank you," she whispered in his ear, gripping him closely. Her heart rate slowed.
"Oh no need," he laughed awkwardly. "... Catching fainting ladies is my specialty."
She gave a tired giggle, releasing from their embrace. "Is that so? Since when?" Grateful for his humor as a distraction from her moment of weakness, her cheeks blushed and her eyes looked up from a sheepish downward glance.
"Since just now," he informed. "For you, I'd master anything, my love." Alistair smiled and lifted her chin to face him fully. "But I draw the line at darning socks. I'll be damned if I become a sock darner."
Her giggles continued. "You have my word, Alistair. I swear to her Beloved Andraste, by all that is good and right in this world: I will never ask you to darn socks."
"Good. Then it's settled," he said with a stern nod of chin as he tucked loose hairs behind her ear. "So are you going to tell me what happened just then?"
"It's nothing," she looked away.
"No," he played. "I know what nothing looks like and that wasn't it. That was definitely something. What happened?"
Caoilainn sighed in defeat. She knew he had seen this happen before."I keep having memories. They feel very real."
She looked to Alistair who gazed back with raised and expectant eyebrows. He wasn't budging on receiving a more detailed reply. Having just witnessed the woman he loved, the leader of their group, and one of the most strong-willed individuals he had ever met fall to the floor by no other provocation than a wooden toy, Alistair's concern would not be sated that simply.
And Caoilainn knew he deserved an explanation. With another sigh she continued. "Memories of the night Howe betrayed my father, my whole household. I keep seeing my nephew dead… my father dying. The blood. My mother… I left her there. I left her to die, Alistair. I can still hear the screaming, the yelling. And the words my father said before we left… It all still rings in my ears." She trailed off, staring off into nothing.
Valuing her vulnerability but recognizing the look he saw in her eyes as similar to when he walked in the room, Alistair interrupted. "I told you so."
Caoilainn's eyebrows wrinkled, and she blinked from her far off look to gaze at him questioningly.
"It was something," he grinned. "And now it's official."
"What is?" She asked, grinning with relief in expectation of his humor.
"We stay together forever…. You know, just in case you ever faint again."
"Oh, of course. Because now I'm such a damsel in distress." She raised her hand to her forehead and mocked fainting.
Supporting her in his arms, Alistair laughed as Caoilainn dramatically arched backwards. "The look suits you," he chuckled. She instantly lifted up and shot daggers at him with her eyes. Alistair assured, "I'm kidding!"
"Uh-huh, sure you are." She laughed before guiding her arms back around his neck and hugging him tightly. "Alistair," she whispered into his ear. "When all this is said and done... please don't leave me."
"Never, my love."
Nathaniel managed a few hours of sleep and woke before dawn. His body had long since accustomed to waking on its own prior to sunrise. But this morning, he was particularly groggy due to the events of the previous night. The grogginess of the morning was not in vain as it provided him with a remarkably clear assessment of at least one of their enemies.
Despite Hale's rebellious fleeing from camp, she brought back critical information that could not only save the lives of Orlesian Wardens, but also prevent the strength of the enemy, and gain the Inquisition an ally. In a sense, he was proud of her. She showed wit, fortitude, and resourcefulness in a dire situation thus surpassing Caoilainn's expectations.
The Wardens rose and packed their necessities in silence. They left behind their tents and horses and gathered in a circle.
"Our mission is to observe," Nathaniel informed the group. "Remember this. We don't have the power to take on any of these enemies on our own. We want to approximate numbers, any special weapons, and any other intel we may gather without engaging with these groups. We expect to find Venatori, Red Templars, and even some Orlesian Grey Wardens among the enemy forces." Nathaniel scanned the group, his eyes lingering on Hale's for a moment longer than the rest. She attempted to look disinterested, or so he thought, but a tiny smile crept to the edges of her lips. Though he withheld from smiling back, something about her reaction satisfied him. "We have come across information about these Wardens that could aid us in battle. But we must not engage with them; don't get close enough for them to sense you." Philippa and Aiden walked up beside Nathaniel, who gestured to them. "The mages will aid our scouting."
One hand rooted on her hip and the other holding her staff, Philippa spoke to her audience. "Quite. Thanks, in part to myself and Aidan, you will move faster and quieter while under our spells. Combined with your superb stealth, you will practically be invisible. Line up, my dears and hold still."
The mages closed their eyes and concentrated their energy. Light emanated from their staves and encircled members, one a time until they all glowed a soft orange. The Wardens were mostly unimpressed with an experience familiar to them. But Nathaniel's gaze found Hale again, curious to see how she would respond to the magic. Her eyes were large with quiet wonderment. She shifted on her feet and examined her hands.
"We'll spot those vipers. Those cheap Venatori bitches and the Red Templars won't have any idea we're there if we scout wisely," Philippa concluded as she completed her spell.
"Wisely is the key word here, scouts," Nathaniel added. "We'll be on foot from now until we get back. Be careful and don't get too close. Questions?"
They all nodded back; their fists rising to their chests saluting Nathaniel. Silently, they packed final items into their bags, taking only what was most necessary for the next few days of scouting. The Wardens set out.
Brisk steps, intervals of jogging took them through the Emerald Graves, into the Arbor Wilds toward the Temple of Mythal. Those skilled in the trees skulked like wild cats through the limbs, finding themselves faster by balancing and leaping from branches than jogging on foot; Hale was among them.
They took well over a day to near the Temple, at which point they stopped to rest. Determination and wherewithal kept the Wardens awake. Experienced scouts knew that this part of their journey always required stamina and fortitude. This challenging aspect of scouting missions quickly weeded out those adept for scouting from those who were better for simple tasks of darkspawn extermination.
As Nathaniel expected, Hale sprightliness was pervasive. She remained alert and active, conversing with Damia as the other's took short naps and ate lightly.
His mind still racked at his hesitation with the young huntress. Hale's forwardness was refreshing, yet he found every reason to turn her away the day prior. He had always maintained integrity with the other women he slept with, never using his position as Lieutenant to beguile or pressure them. It required little effort to find a companion for the night when he wanted one. Guilty of the occasional romp in a tavern or tent with his female comrades- even when Caoilainn ordered otherwise- this particular young woman's attention should have been no different. But it was.
Efforts to put the thoughts of her out of his mind were moderately successful.
After they rested, the Wardens reconvened their scouting mission. Their whispering movements were quick, stalking the forest to gain vantage points in the dark hours of the morning. Lurking near the furthest reaches of the armies that waited for the Inquisition at the Temple of Mythal. They counted, approximating numbers. Staked out in trees and spread among the woods they watched the activity of the enemy for any notable information through the better part of the day. When Nathaniel determined that as much valuable information could be gathered as possible, he signaled for them to regroup a safe distance from the Temple. Another chance to eat lightly, anything to get them through the run back to the Forward Camp, the Wardens rested again before starting the final leg of their mission through the night and following day.
The Inquisition and its respective allies arrived at the Forward Camp the next evening.
"The scouts should arrive shortly," Cullen reported to the Inquisitor in her large tent, having met with the Inquisition officers stationed at the camp and gathering whatever information was available about the status of the scouts' mission.
The Inquisitor stood at a nearby table discussing strategical elements with Cullen and her party. Caoilainn sat across from Alistair. He had been quiet since joining the meeting, occasionally offering a reassuring smile to Caoilainn. His silence concerned Caoilainn, sensing his discomfort at the pending additions to the meeting.
Before Caoilainn could say anything to Alistair, the sound of voices from outside interrupted her. A moment later, three Wardens sauntered into the tent. Nathaniel stood in the middle, looking as smug as ever; Philippa stood on one side and Hale on the other. Reactively, Caoilainn's eyes narrowed at the unexpected combination of her soldiers. Something was different about Nathaniel and she couldn't place it. Furthermore, she could feel the tension in the room. Alistair's gaze was heavy, a critical eye in constant surveillance of Caoilainn and Nathaniel.
Fists to their chests, Nathaniel and Philippa saluted Caoilainn; Hale mirrored them when she recognized the protocol.
"Report, Lieutenant," Caoilainn saluted back and spoke firmly.
"To all of us, please," Alanna's voice echoed Caoilainn's as she came around the table to stand beside her. Alistair rose from his chair and stood near Cullen. Both men crossed their arms.
Nathaniel paused until the movement in the room settled. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Of course, Commander." He dipped his head to Alanna. "Inquisitor. We gathered information about the numbers and movement of the Venatori and Red Templars. They are defending the temple. We believe the enemy has information on the Inquisition forces' arrival."
"That much is expected," Cullen voiced from where he stood. "They have their own scouts on patrol to take information to their Lieutenant, Samson."
Nathaniel nodded and continued. "We outnumber them. They were not prepared for the growth of the Inquisition forces."
"Good," Alanna stated. "That will be an advantage."
"But we came across Grey Wardens fighting in the name of Corypheus," Nathaniel said, worry lined his tone. His eyes darted to Caoilainn, questioning if he should proceed. She nodded silently.
"Oh?" Alanna asked. "What did you find?"
"We sent a…," he paused to find the right word, "spy into their encampment to learn their plans." Caoilainn observed Hale's grin; the young Elf's chest swelled in pride to Nate's statement.
The Inquisitor squinted at her cousin, but before she could say anything Alistair gave a short, cynical laugh. "Do tell, Lieutenant Howe. You crossed right into another's territory… discovering secrets? Stealing… information? Sneaky. Of course, infiltration is a well-practiced skill of yours. It's in your blood, isn't it?"
Caoilainn's heart stopped and her eyes dashed between Alistair and Nathaniel. Damn it, Alistair. Not here. But her concern remained unspoken, certain that anything she said would simply make matters worse. Alistair stood with his chest lifted and Nathaniel glared back.
Alanna raised her eyebrows, passing surprised glances at both men but she did not interrupt. The others in the tent remained silent despite the palpable discomfort.
Before anyone managed to respond, Hale pointed her finger across the tent to Alistair and blurted out, "Hey! I was the spy, arsehole. What of it?" Her hand came back and tapped on her chest. "Sometimes you gotta do bad things to stop the bad guys from doing worse things."
"It's all right, Hale." Nathaniel put his arm in front of Hale to keep her back. "His Majesty is merely exercising his right to talk down to whoever he wishes." She stopped speaking but she held her scowl at Alistair. Alanna's head lowered, and she covered her eyes with her hand.
"Enough!" Caoilainn yelled, stepping forward between the gaze of the two men. "Junior Warden, stand down. Lieutenant, your order was to report." Her frown was deep, but her tone was level.
"Hale," Alanna's hand slid to her forehead as she spoke. "Perhaps you could refrain from calling the King of Ferelden an arsehole from this point forward?"
Hale glared at Alanna then looked at the wall of the tent. Shifting on her feet she muttered under her breath, "not my king." Caoilainn noticed Nathaniel's lips curving up in a stifled grin and Alistair's presence near Cullen remained rigid.
"What we found was quite alarming," Nathaniel explained what Hale discovered and what Philippa had delineated from that information. "Philippa suggests that our Warden mages will be able to recover the Orlesian Wardens… with blood magic."
The group fell silent again. The blatant looks of displeasure from most of the attendees of the meeting visible in their expressions, particularly the Inquisition's Commander who stared at Alanna with wide eyes.
"Please explain, Philippa," Alanna acknowledged Philippa.
"Gladly." Philippa hands planted on her hips. She spoke to the non-magical individual's in the meeting. "Before you all get your panties in a twist: Grey Wardens may use blood magic since such magic creates us." She lectured the tent of people. "The magic I propose would allow the mages of Caoilainn's troop to control the corrupted Wardens with blood magic after the destruction of the demons they have bonded, the result of the ritual they performed for Corypheus." Philippa addressed Caoilainn directly. "Your mages will hold the Orlesian Wardens with magic until the demons are destroyed."
"Warden, report any risks." Hands clasped behind her back, Caoilainn ordered Philippa.
"Of course, Commander." Philippa dipped her head to Caoilainn respectfully. "As with any magic there is a risk. This will require a sufficient expenditure of energy from us, dear. It's possible we may run out."
"And what happens then?" Caoilainn asked.
"Bluntly," Philippa responded with a smug grin, "we lose control and the corrupted Wardens attack us."
"If they touch us, it will force the false Calling," Nathaniel added, the worry back in his voice.
Caoilainn nodded in thought. It was a substantial risk, potentially compromising the stability of her entire army. Thought it also provided an opportunity to strengthen their numbers and save a significant number of Orlesian Wardens. The others in attendance of this meeting stood silent, waiting for Caoilainn to respond.
"We've dedicated time to strengthening our mages," Caoilainn informed Alanna first, then spoke to the rest of the group. "It's a risk I'm willing to take."
"If they attack, the Inquisition will be obligated to treat them as any other hostile enemy," Cullen added from behind the table.
"I understand," Caoilainn nodded to him.
"Then it's settled," Alanna addressed the Wardens in front of her, gaze staying on Hale as she spoke. "Thank you for the information you have gathered. It will aid us in this battle. You may leave while we finalize our plans before we depart tomorrow."
Hale and Philippa bowed to the Inquisitor and Caoilainn first and departed. Nathaniel followed suit, but his gaze held with Caoilainn's for a fraction of a second longer than the rest. She bowed back and returned to the meeting. The group discussed the final stages of their preparation for the battle at the Temple of Mythal and when the Inquisitor and her private party would make their way to the Temple. When these details were determined, the meeting adjourned.
Caoilainn pulled Alistair to the side before she returned to the Warden encampment. With a soft "I love you," followed by a kiss on the cheek, she wished him a good night. He smiled, pleased with her affection. After wishing her the same and a few short words, the pair separated for the night to attend to their responsibilities.
Tired, worn from the day and the feat of a meeting with so many contributors, she entered the Grey Warden camp. She spotted Nathaniel talking with Philippa and Hale as she walked to her tent and signaled for him to follow her.
She entered and had but a moment to breathe. Only a small table and a cot filled her tent, both untidied. The evening sounds of cicadas provided steady background to the activity of the camps.
Caoilainn allowed her arms to slacken and slouch at her sides. Her head rolled forward and back on her shoulders. Staring at the ceiling, she sighed. Nathaniel walked in.
Barely glancing in his direction, Caoilainn asked with indifference,"Do you have any more to report?"
"A report, Commander?" He squinted, studying her reaction with a lifted a brow. "My, you are in a risk-taking mood this evening."
He stepped closer, confident, brazen, and she put her hand up to stop him. The energy he emitted was all too comfortable, and definitely not welcome.
"No," she ordered. "No more."
"What?" He halted and frowned. His tone conveyed genuine confusion.
"No more, Nate," she restated. "This game between us. It's over."
"Sure," Nathaniel's amused chuckle followed him crossing his arms, "You've said that before."
It was true, she had. Guilt spurred from the affair, ate her from the inside from the moment it began. And before she returned to the castle from Vigil's Keep she told Nate they were finished. But her own presumed inadequacy as Alistair's wife brought her back to commanding. The liaisons with Nathaniel also resumed.
"I mean it." Her chin lifted. Though her words were brief, they were final. There was no question or insecurity in her voice. "I choose Alistair."
"Oh," his brow furrowed with skepticism. "Good for you then. I'm happy for you."
The air in the tent was stifled, awkward. Despite the casualness of their relationship, she was close to Nathaniel. Ending this aspect of their relationship would require changes in their communication, the way they engaged as Commander and Lieutenant.
Caoilainn said, "I was referring to your quest. Do you have a report on the Elf girl?"
"Yes," Nate replied. He shook his head for just a moment to clear his thoughts then stood straighter, feet wide. He clasped his hands behind his back. "She is smart and a skilled archer. The young huntress has a knack for strategy and creative thinking, but she has a temper she has yet to maintain."
"I expected as much," Caoilainn spoke as she moved around to the table in her tent. She looked through some papers on the table. "Did you sleep with her?" Her tone remained indifferent, unaffected by the answer she awaited.
Nathaniel cleared his throat and paused before replying, his cheeks the slightest shade of pink. "No, Commander."
"But you wanted to," Caoilainn added, looking up to him. She knew Nate well enough to read him. "She's young, Nate and the Inquisitor's cousin. I trust that she will continue to be a valuable addition to the Wardens."
"I'm well aware," he replied. His brow lifted in annoyance at her question.
"Don't hurt her," she made eye contact with him, her voice stern. Nathaniel simply nodded.
The silence sat between them, heavy, weighted with unspoken words. Caoilainn knew Nathaniel would do what he wanted, and she also trusted him to refrain from abuse of his power. Furthermore, the young woman was an adult. Grey Wardens forfeited their lives for the order. If the girl could make a decision so significant for herself, Caoilainn trusted Hale as capable of handling her emotions with Nate if she wanted him. Whatever solace Wardens could find in guilty pleasures with one another was a small reprieve to the fate they all faced.
"I won't," Nathaniel said.
"Good," Caoilainn went back to the papers on the table. "You're dismissed."
Her warmth, Alistair still felt the kiss on his cheek before Caoilainn left the Inquisitor's tent to return to the Wardens. The kiss filled him with hope. It reminded him how he longed for humor, wanting nothing more than for them to enjoy each other's company, laughing about nothing in particular. Unable to sit still in his tent, he left to find Caoilainn.
He reached the Warden encampment, activity waning as her soldiers dispersed to their quarters. The light in Caoilainn's quarters glowed under the hems of her tent, but just as he neared the tent flap opened, releasing more light and Nathaniel departed.
Grimacing, Alistair locked eyes with Nathaniel as he passed. The man stared back, brow lifted in snark amusement and accentuated by a subtle smirk.
Suddenly livid, Alistair's heart pounded with rage, and he felt light-headed. Stunned by the wordless audacity of the Lieutenant, the snake, Alistair's mind raced with vicious thoughts. He stormed into Caoilainn's tent.
"What was that?!" He yelled at Caoilainn, his hand pointing to the tent flap he walked through.
Caoilainn gasped; looking up from the table where she stood, confused and startled. "What?"
"Your Lieutenant," his voice shook, boiling and volatile. "Did you…?" He struggled to find the words. "No! I don't want to know. Caoilainn, I have waited. I have been patient. I have tried to forgive you-"
"Alistair, wait, no." Caoilainn moved around the table, her hand lifting to stop his tirade. Her voice was gentle, pleading. "It's not like that."
"Oh, it isn't?" Still seething, Alistair ignored her. "The look that bastard just gave me said otherwise. The bastard, mind you, who has been sleeping with my wife for the last ten years. Ten fucking years, Caoilainn. I'm done trying. I'm done." His eyes welled with hot, agitated tears. His face red, the vein in his forehead prominent.
Tears trickled down her cheeks and her bottom lip pursed. Her face contorted in desperation. Through shallow breaths she tried to keep calm as her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.
"My love," she spoke calmly. Nearing him, she lifted her hand to touch him. "It's not what you think. I love-"
"Stop." Lip sneering in disgust, he backed away from her hand and interrupted. "No, you don't. I don't know if you ever did." His words were cold and accusatory, the doubt of her love stabbed into her like blades. "I'll see you on the battlefield, Commander."
He turned and left the way he came.