Chapter 14 - Shadow and Strength

"Can you three be ready to leave within the hour?" Alyx said as she pocketed Varel's missive. "There should be enough daylight left to get a good head start back to the Vigil."

"Not to stir the pot, but wouldn't it be wiser to leave first thing in the morning?" Anders replied timidly, eyes pleading her to change her mind.

Alyx sighed. It seemed that no matter what she did, her men would insist on questioning her.

"The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back on the road…and no amount of puppy dog eyes will make me change my mind, Anders," she said, shooting him a loaded look.

"Aww, does the man-skirt not want to sleep on the cold, hard ground?" Oghren teased, playfully punching Anders in the arm.

"I hate camping," Anders grumbled under his breath as he shot Oghren a murderous glare.

"Enough commentary from the peanut gallery. Go and pack your things and meet me outside. One hour, gentleman."

Alyx settled their tab with the innkeeper (adding quite the hefty tip in repayment for breaking the poor man's mirror) and packed her own meager belongings, as well as the supplies they had purchased in the marketplace their first day in the city. Though she had more to accomplish than all three of her companions put together, she was still ready and saddled before any of them made an appearance.

They're worse than a gaggle of noblewomen, she thought, rolling her eyes as Anders and Oghren grumbled their way across the courtyard. Nathaniel had appeared first and had enough common sense to keep his comments to himself as he swung atop Sirocco's back. Besides the occasional show of temper, she realized that he was the most-level-headed of her companions, and she thanked the Maker that at least one of them was.

The journey back to the keep proved to be uneventful, or at least from a tactical standpoint (Oghren's falling out of the saddle…again…was more of a testament to his poor equestrian skills than an actual incident). At the end of the first day as they set up camp for the night Alyx thought of how relaxed the trip had been in comparison to their ride into the city. It was amazing how different things were now that the air had been cleared of the major misgivings that had kept them from really trusting each other. She couldn't exactly say that they were one big happy family, but things had certainly improved. At the very least it had lightened her mind and heart to know that Anders and Nathaniel were truly invested in the Wardens and in her as their leader. Oghren had been a given.

Camp certainly had a more comfortable feel now that the tension had lifted. Nathaniel had surprised her by offering to sharpen her blades with the whetstone she had gifted him a couple of days ago, and was currently bent over the project, brow furrowed in concentration. Oghren had pulled out his pipe and was quietly puffing away as he took an occasional swig from his wineskin, and Anders was…well, being Anders.

"Falcon, I've been meaning to ask you…how did you learn your combat skills?" Anders asked her as he plopped down beside her next to the fire. "I've never seen anything like it before, especially your hand-to-hand technique. It's fantastic."

"Now that is a very long story," Alyx replied. "And not quite as interesting as you might think."

"Ooh, now you have to share! Inquiring minds want to know," Anders cooed as he waggled his eyebrows and cupped his chin in one hand as he leaned forward in anticipation. She glanced at the others and noticed that they, too, were gazing at her in interest. Alyx took a deep breath and blew it out slowly as she tried to think of where to start.

"I started sparring with my brother from an early age, and then with the men in my Father's service when I was deemed old enough to do so. My true instruction, however, didn't begin until the winter of my eighteenth year. The snows had come early, and with a force unlike any we had seen before or since. Consequently many travelers were compelled to winter at Highever for the duration. Amongst these was a kindly old man who introduced himself as Michiaki, though I was never quite sure if this was his surname or his given name. He said he was from Ravain, and although he had the bronzed skin to back up his claim, he neither spoke nor dressed like anyone I have ever met from that land…"

She distinctly remembered Michiaki's features, though it had been years since the last time she'd seen him. He'd been a small man with a clean-shaven head and fuzzy, caterpillar eyebrows. He had the largest, kindest, puppy-dog eyes she'd ever seen that sparkled with mischief as often as they snapped with quick intelligence and purpose. His voice was surprisingly deep and husky, and pleasant to listen to though she didn't always understand the words.

"…I, being young and impressionable, was curious about the funny little man with the strange mannerisms, so foreign from everything I had ever known. When he walked, he never made so much as a sound, and his eyes were forever sparkling with humor, as if he was laughing at a joke that only he was privy to. Yet what fascinated me the most about him was the aura of utter calm that enveloped him like a shroud. We struck up a friendship, as odd as that may sound, and he would often sit and talk with me by the fire when the weather proved too harsh for training. One day, after watching me spar with my brother, he approached me with an intriguing proposition…"

Alyx's eyes clouded over as the memories swirled through her thoughts, the images just as clear as if it had only happened yesterday. She could almost feel the frozen ground beneath her feet as she and Fergus circled each other, blades flashing in the dim winter light. They had shed their heavy, fur-lined coats despite the sharp bite of the cold, crisp air; their breaths coming out in puffs like thin wisps of smoke. She wielded a sword and a shield, weapons chosen for her by her Father as a condition of her swordplay (though how this was safer than any other form of battle was beyond her).

Michiaki watched in silence as she and Fergus sparred. Though she was able to get a couple of good hits in, the shield was too heavy and cumbersome for her small frame, weighing her down more than protecting her as it should. Fergus easily and laughingly defeated her, as he always did in those days. When he was too cold to gloat any longer, he headed back inside leaving Alyx alone in the middle of the courtyard. Only then did Michiaki approach her.

"You have great potential, ayasha, but it cannot be unleashed with such unwieldy tools," Michiaki said as he knocked a fist against her shield with a sharp clang. "These are better suited for burly men in plate armor, not for a woman-child barely taller than her opponent's blade."

"What does 'ayasha' mean?" Anders interrupted.

"Ayasha, he told me, means 'little one' in his tongue, which was something of joke as he was no bigger than I. At any rate, he revealed to me that he was once a member of an elite order of warriors revered by his people for their prowess. There was a time that their skills were passed down from generation to generation as a sacred and treasured right, but had since become a dying art form. The last of his brothers had all but been wiped out by those who feared and resented their power."

"So it was he that trained you?" Anders interrupted once again, surprise evident in his voice.

"Am I telling this story or are you?" she asked in amusement, laughing as his face colored in embarrassment. "To answer your question, yes, it was he, but there was so much more to it than that. He offered to teach me these skills, believing that his arrival at Highever was preordained. He said I had a great destiny but not the proper direction; that the knowledge he would grant me would only serve to help me on my path. How did he put it? Ah, yes. He said I was like the night orchid that blooms for all to see, but only releases its rich scent under the cover of darkness. Don't give me that look, Anders. It does not mean what you think it means! Anyway, he had a lot of funny sayings like that. The man couldn't answer a question directly to save his life."

She hadn't agreed to his offer, not right away at least. She remembered being overwhelmed and, admittedly, a bit frightened of his supposition of her future. She didn't want to have a great destiny. In tales of old, such men and women invariably led tragic lives and died young. All she had ever wanted was to live and die in Highever with her family surrounding her.

"You must have mistaken me for someone else. Beyond my family's name and title, I am just…me. Nothing special," she told him.

"You cannot run from your fate. You must accept it, ayasha, like it or not. Come to me when your decision is made."

She spent the rest of that day and most of the night weighing his words with the intensity that she brought with everything she did. As she watched the sky change colors with the rising sun, she came to a decision. Seeking him out, she knew he would be awake, though it was early yet. She found him meditating in the early morning light, seemingly unfazed by the freezing cold of the day. Approaching him silently, she kneeled beside him.

"Teach me," she said in a low-pitched voice, somehow knowing he would understand the deeper meaning behind the simple words.

"Michiaki believed that the mind had to be trained before the body, so in order to achieve the proper focus he taught me how to meditate. He said that it would calm my mind and open my senses, and with time and experience I would be able to commune with others simply by using the power of my mind; possibly even see glimpses of the future if I had the patience and the aptitude."

"Really? Can you do that?" Anders gasped.

"No, but honestly I was far too hyper in my youth to sit still for more than an hour at a time, to Michiaki's consternation. Needless to say, we moved on quickly. He soon started me with simple hand-to-hand techniques—"

"Your body is a weapon, as deadly as any blade. No! Like this—you rely too much on your strength, like a man. Imagine that you are a sieve…let the movements flow through you like water…now, again!"

"—And then had me perform fetes of acrobatics that were as complex as they were grueling. I was a little worried at first that he planned on sell me down the river to a troop of traveling tumblers, but he explained that it would improve my stamina, agility and flexibility as well as sharpen my focus and accelerate my reflexes—"

Michiaki had insisted they train atop some wooden scaffolding set up near the curtain wall. Before she could stop herself, she looked over the edge to the courtyard below, only to feel dizzy and ill. It was a long way down if she fell.

"Are you afraid?"

"Yes."

"Good. You must confront your fear. Let it become one with you. Only then will you conquer it."

"—He showed me how to use theatricality and deception to trick the mind and to instill fear in the mind of my enemies—"

"Some men know how to melt into shadows. I can show you how to appear and disappear as if out of thin air. If you wished to, you could become truly invisible…"

"—Which is a neat party trick, but impractical when it comes to the darkspawn."

"Because they can sense us?" Nathaniel offered, startling her out of her reverie. She had forgotten he had even been listening.

"Precisely," she replied with a nod of approval. "It has its uses, however. Men like those we faced today are always susceptible to such methods."

As was her brother. She would never forget Fergus's face the first time she beat him in single combat. She insisted on using two blades instead of the sword and shield, so naturally he had accused her of cheating when she easily disarmed him and knocked him flat on his back. It had also been the first time her Father had taken her fighting skills seriously, and it was all due to Michiaki's training.

"Ultimately, he combined these techniques and built on them as I improved in skill, eventually adding weapons and opponents to our practices. Michiaki was always pushing the limits of my abilities, challenging me in ways that I never thought possible. He taught me how to use my size and gender as a tool and not an obstacle to overcome. He, being small himself, was well aware of the advantage. I was only able to beat him once in a match, and it was the last day of my training. He simply smiled and said that he was no longer needed, and then the next day he was gone."

"Did you ever see him again?" Nathaniel asked.

"No," she replied cautiously, and after a moment of hesitation.

"So…that's it?" Anders asked when she was done.

"Yes."

"Wow…you were right. That was not nearly as interesting as I thought it would be."

"Hey! You were the one who asked!" she exclaimed in mock anger as she playfully swatted at him.

"I yield! I yield! Mercy Commander!" he cried through fits of laughter.

Oghren snorted at their behavior, the only sign he had shown all night that he had been listening at all, but Alyx didn't care. It had felt good to share a part of her life that few had ever known existed.

"Can you teach me, Commander?" Nathaniel asked thoughtfully after they had grown quiet again.

"You want to learn…from me?" she asked in astonishment.

"Is that really so surprising? I am rogue, the same as you. Surely it would not be that much of a stretch."

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Very well, but it may have to wait until things have calmed down a bit."

"Yes, of course," he said as he stood and crossed to her side of the fire. "Here are your blades, good as new. If you like, I can take first watch."

"Uh, thanks. That would great," she replied, once again surprised at his offer. "And thanks for the blades."

"You're most welcome," he murmured, one side of his mouth twitching up in a half-smile.

She blinked, feeling a hint of déjà-vu as she stared at his expression. There was just a trace of a dimple in his cheek, a feature she had adored in the boy she once knew. Alyx had to remind herself that he was not that boy any longer, and that she hardly knew anything of the man. His attitude had certainly improved since that first night yet she still didn't know what to make of him. Tonight, however, was not the time or the place to figure him out.

Standing, she said her good nights and walked back to her tent. She quickly undressed and climbed into her bedroll, praying for sleep to come swiftly. Unfortunately her mind was too full of memories to allow it; memories that she had all but forgotten until this night. As she laid there staring up at the ceiling of her tent, she allowed herself to sift through the images floating through her mind. She hadn't been totally honest with Nathaniel earlier, when he asked if she had ever seen Michiaki again after he left Highever. The truth was that she was unsure if she had actually seen him, or if he had simply been a vision conjured by a grief-stricken mind.

The day of Alistair's funeral, Sten had agreed to carry her into the chantry so she could say a final farewell to her beloved in private. She had been too weak after the battle to walk on her own. It would have been dark as night in the vast chamber if it weren't for the hundreds of tiny votive candles that illuminated the shrine on which Alistair was resting. Sten had left her kneeling at the foot of the altar, promising to return for her before they came to take his body away.

Alyx drunk in the familiar features, cast in flickering shadows sprung from the weak light. They had dressed him in the golden armor that had once belonged to Cailan, his motionless hands folded over Duncan's shield. He looked peaceful, as if he were only sleeping. She wanted to cry, to give in to the pain, but her body refused her even this.

It was there, as she was dying from the inside out, that she felt the presence of her old tutor. She knew it was him even before she felt a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"I failed you," she whispered, her words directed at Michiaki though her eyes were trained on Alistair's face.

"You did what you set out to accomplish," he replied after a short pause. "The blight has been eliminated, Fereldan safe once again."

"Because of him!" she hissed, her head snapping around to glare at him. "I did not kill the archdemon, he did. He made the sacrifice that should have been mine to make, and now he is dead and I have nothing left."

"You are wrong, ayasha. His story was meant to end here, yours is not. Yours is only beginning."

She looked back at Alistair's still form, her mouth tightening in anger as she tried to control her anguish. When she did not speak, he continued.

"Grieve, my child, but do not let it poison you. Learn from it, become stronger from your pain. When the time is right…and it will come though you may not believe it…take back your life. Only then will you regain the path that was put before you. "

And then he was gone. She often wondered if she had really seen him, but in the end it hardly mattered. It wasn't until more than a year later, on the day that she began her training again, that Alyx had an epiphany.

She woke that morning with a sudden impulse to make a change. She jumped out of her bed and threw open the doors to her armoire, knowing without looking exactly where the item she needed was within the shadowy depths. Retrieving the object in question, Alyx pulled her heavy winter cloak on over her meager nightgown. The castle was quiet this early in the morning, making it easy for her to slip out of her rooms and up to the roof without being noticed.

Standing at the highest point of Highever Castle, she looked out over the wintry landscape. It was a day much like many she had spent here with Michiaki in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Looking down to the courtyard below, she realized he had been right in one thing—the terror she had once felt when at such dizzying heights no longer existed. She was standing as close to the edge as she possibly could without climbing atop the stone wall, and yet she wasn't feeling the slightest bit of panic. She had conquered her fear.

Alyx considered Michiaki's last words to her in the chantry, as well as the strange turn her life had taken over the past few years. Lady Alyxandria Cousland had died that night long ago with her parents, and Warden Alyx had died with her lover atop Fort Drakon. Falcon was all that remained. Yet Michiaki had been right. She did have something worth living for, only she hadn't known it at the time.

She glanced down at the object lying in the palm of her hand; a delicate, withered rose that had once been a beautiful crimson color, but was now closer to black. Though it had been ages since Alistair had given it to her, it still held its shape and beauty. Her mouth set in a hard line she crushed the bloom within her fist. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then opened her hand to allow the ruined petals to blow away in the wind.

It was in that moment that she made a pact with herself. She would not be weak. She would reclaim her life and mold it into something different…something stronger. She would train harder than she ever did before, she would become the Warden she should have been from the beginning, and she would never again let herself be consumed by the artifice of love.

*Author's Note: I am a big believer in having character names that have some depth of meaning to them, so I took my time about choosing the name of the original character introduced in this chapter. Michiaki is a Japanese name which (according to the name registry) means "path, road, or lane" which I felt was quite appropriate for his character. Ayasha, which I used as a sort of pet-name here, is Cheyenne for "little one." Muse Tunes: "The Kingsroad" by Ramin Djawadi; "Rise to Me" by The Decemberists; (Game of Thrones OST);"Eptesicus" and "Barbastella" both from the Batman Begins OST by Hans Zimmer and James Newton Howard.