Chapter 54: The Lady and the Beast
"Ok, so we're just going to waltz in this cursed forest and ask the wolves, 'give us our friends or die?'" Zevran asked his three friends of Morrigan, Leliana, and Sten, who of all people, wished to see with his own eyes the legend of the Brecilian Forest. The Qunari had scoffed at the idea of werewolves and other monsters roaming the elven forest. 'Demons of the cursed ones do not exist unless summoned by them' was his only explanation for going with them. Even Morrigan was surprised by Sten's want to accompany them but all three were also grateful for a warrior's presence. In fact, he was sorely needed as the Qunari was the only warrior in the entire group of companions. The other two were currenly residing somewhere in the forest, either kidnapped by the beasts or perhaps there of their own will. The only way was to explore the vast unknown.
Unfortunately, their exploration involved getting turned around due to the misty barriers that would take them back to their initial starting point. It was only when they just stumbled unto an ancient tree who had an unusual request of them and an even stranger observation.
"You four have come to pass, but with the other two who have been here last," the Great One started to say before being rudely interrupted by the rather impatient dark-haired witch.
"Enough of this rhyming nonsense! Where are our compatriots?" The witch's eyes glimmered brilliantly out of anger and impatience.
The Great One stopped mid-sentence and the ancient slyvan tree gave all four a hard look; empty wooden holes that served as eyes lingered longer on the elf than anyone else. It made Zevran a little uncomfortable for the only attention he was used to be receiving was out of sexual need, not from genuine curiosity.
"I sense the power around you, power held only by the chosen few."
"I see but please, we need your help," Zevran was uncharacteristically polite, at least according to the others.
Like the others, the Great One was shocked to sense such politeness from an Antivan Assassin and he bowed his crown of branches out of respect to the request.
As he spoke of the magical acorn that was stolen from him, Leliana remembered having encountered that crazy hermit not so long ago and she fished out a small brown pouch. She retrieved a small seed from it and then showed it to the Great One.
His ultimate relief in having his acorn back was shown in him grasping the acorn in sharp branches and then singing out his thanks to the three who had unknowingly took it from the hermit and his summoned demons.
"For my thanks I have, a special amulet shall give you leave."
Zevran held out his hand to receive a minute wooden necklace, fit to wear more around the wrist than the neck itself.
"Now, shall I hibernate and join my brethren; and in time, we shall know true living."
His cryptic words were not accompanied by further explanation as even as the words left Zevran's mouth, the Great One had fallen into a deep slumber.
"I did not know trees have words," Sten remarked in a dead-panned tone. "In my lands of Par Vollen, there are trees but words are lacking due to squirrels and dirt."
"Tis true, having a mouthful of squirrels would do it," Morrigan commented dryly as she hoisted her staff again, trying to situate it where it wouldn't press against her ankles. "I would know."
Seeing no other reason to stick around in an area full of hostile Sylvan trees, the four departed and headed towards the misty barriers. The minute wooden necklace glowed a bright blue and the mist dissipated, revealing a hidden path that would take them deeper into the heart of the forest. Little did they know that Hadrian and Alistair were already there, waiting for them with answers to everything that had happened here lately between Zathrian and the werewolves.
-o0o-
The Lady of the Forest was not what Alistair had expected to see. A beast of incredible beauty and savagery, sure, but not this slender woman whose only clothing were provided by her long hair and the green tendrils wrapping around her body in such a way that it covered her most private parts. Her form, perfect and certainly pleasing to the eye with her pert breasts set high in a body curved in the right places, was certainly appreciated by Alistair but only in the aesthetic sense.
"And so it is true then," the Lady spoke, her voice carrying out in the atrium of the Temple. Two werewolves guarded her closely and Alistair snarled when he realized that Swiftrunner was there with his dark eyes traveling down Hadrian's form. No doubt undressing him, Alistair thought angrily. The tall blonde stepped in front of the other man in a clear move to deny Swiftrunner of the pleasure of looking at his mate.
"I sensed the presence of another inside you," the Lady continued and she stepped forward only to be gently pushed back by Swiftrunner himself.
"No, my Lady! These intruders intend to harm you!" The dark werewolf growled his warning.
"Peace, Swiftrunner," the Lady assuaged her belligerent guard before turning to address the two men who waited patiently. However, she too noticed that the pair were together in a sense. Like the beasts, her senses picked up on the strange odors emanating from Hadrian and an even stronger masculine scent from the blonde who guarded his friend so closely.
"We do not harm those who have claimed each other." Her comment brought a blush to both warriors' faces and the Lady smiled at their flushed expressions. She knew the signs of those destined to be joined and, despite her being a powerful and cursed spirit, the Lady had learned to appreciate these strange and human emotions. The pain of existence and the joys of living opened her mind and thus gave her a softer view on the lives she guarded over the past centuries.
"But let us talk now of things that is and things to come," the Lady continued and she gestured to the two men to come closer to her, ignoring the soft growls Swiftrunner emitted.
"Come and commune with us. Share what you have learned and we will tell you the true story of our origins."
As all who occupied the immense antechamber of the ancient elven ruins gathered around the Lady, there started a tale of terrible tragedy, of a wrath that could not be curbed by time itself. As she finished her story, both Hadrian and Alistair felt deep within their hearts that no justice could be served by siding with either side. A compromise had to be made and Hadrian, determined to fix this, promised the Lady that he would seek out Zathrian and bring him here.
Just as the dark-haired Warden turned to leave, a cry of indignation echoed in the frigid air and caused everyone to turn their attentions to the sight of a group of four led by the unmistakable form of Zathrian. The Keeper's face, reddened with so much anger, twisted into something that marred his delicate features.
"And so you have sided with them, after all?" Zathrian cried out and he was just about to strike the stoned floor with his staff when a sharp knife appeared at this throat, followed by a gentle 'tsk' from the dark-skinned elf.
"No, no, no. Let us not be hasty hmm? After all the effort you went through in guiding us to find them, it would not be logical to kill them. Especially the dear Warden. His brother would be not happy with me."
"Everyone, stand down!" Hadrian's voice was loud and commanding. At his shout, the werewolves stayed their ground and Zathrian, to everyone's hope and surprise, loosened his grip on the wooden staff. Zevran sorely wanted to leave the dagger at the other elf's throat but whatever Hadrian had to say, it must be important enough to hold the werewolves at bay.
Although both sides of the conflicted calmed down, the tension still broiled hotly between them and any twitch could be misconstrued as an act of aggression. Thus, Hadrian had to choose his words wisely lest he lose all he gained within seconds.
"Vengeance..." Hadrian started and his own voice cracked at the word. The dark-haired Cousland knew that word intimately. From the first day of his recruitment into the Wardens to seeing Fergus, alive and well, the youngest son of the Cousland line lived for vengeance. To seek and destroy the treacherous Howe for his betrayal. Now, though the fires had been curbed by both Fergus and Alistair, he no longer lived solely for revenge. He wanted answers as well, answers from everyone who had wronged him, from those who he mistakenly wronged in his lifetime. "All it brings is even more suffering. What good did it do for you Zathrian? Did it end at your curse? Did it bring you happiness in the end?"
"How dare you! You can't possibly know the loss of everyone you've loved!" The Keeper's face grew livid at Hadrian's questions for they struck a painful cord in his conscience.
"Actually, I do," Hadrian's face grew sullen and an ache started to bloom in his chest, where his heart resides. "In one night, I lost my parents, my smiling nephew who never knew how to hold a sword. I lost my best friend, Ser Gilmore, who taught me that being a Lord didn't have to be so miserable and serious all the time. Because of an old friend who held my father's trust in his hands and then crushed it, I lost everything and everyone I held dear. It's only until now do I realize that wanting vengeance and wanting justice are two very different roads to take. They all lead to the same result at the end of the journey, but what would I do to achieve it? Would I start to mistrust those around me and let the loss and regrets poison my being? Or would I find trust in those who believe in me and help me journey through these harsh trials and tribulations? So tell me, Zathrian, how could I possible know the terrible consequences of this loss? It is because this person," Hadrian gestured to himself, "It is because I lived it and yet I still strive to do what is right for it is the only road taken."
The man's speech was so profound and deep that it struck the audience speechless. Even the golden-eyed Morrigan could not find the words to argue or support her friend's view. However, most importantly, the slender Keeper eventually relented in his thirst for punishing those who had taken away his children. Zathrian bowed his head and his form shook with quiet sobs as the Keeper finally faced what he had wrought. No one derailed him in his moment of weakness. Even Swiftrunner became oddly silent and the Lady gently stepped forward, to stop in front of the crying elf.
"Shall we end our suffering? Or must we keep toiling ourselves deeper into this pit of despair and anguish?" The Lady's voice, soft and comforting, soothed the mourning Keeper. Zathrian nodded and, at an unspoken word, everyone backed away from the pair.
Warm light cascaded down the two beings and as the form of the Lady disappeared into nothingness, Zathrian collapsed backwards, into Hadrian's arms. A whispered 'thank you' was all the elf managed to say before he stilled as death took him on swift wings. It was only in this moment that Hadrian realized there was a genuine smile on Zathrian's pale face and, as he closed those sightless eyes, the elf appeared to be merely sleeping.
"Look! By the Maker, we're...we're human again!" An exclamation had Hadrian revert his gaze from Zathrian's smiling visage to the startling sight of humans standing where the werewolves used to be. Swiftrunner, the leader of the group, is indeed a handsome man. Someone worthy of leading a pack. Also, he still bestowed an intense gaze at Hadrian, much to Alistair's dismay. Apparently, whatever Swiftrunner had felt for him in his cursed state transferred to his original human form.
However, all Swiftrunner did was to thank him before directing the others out, leaving behind the two Wardens and their own pack to dwell in what had just happened.
"So, what now?" It was Sten who had asked the question and, while Hadrian would normally be angry at how easily the Qun could brush off death as easily as melee blows, the man was just too tired to be anything. He tired of this drudgery of bringing death around him. It seemed that everywhere he goes, death follows behind him, dogging him on his heels. Would Alistair be taken away from him as well?
"We go back to camp, deliver the news to the Keeper's First, and then move on to Denerim. I think we all could use some rest." Alistair spoke out and the others followed his lead as easily as they all followed Hadrian's. As the others made their way out of the antechamber and down the large root that served as a bridge to an exit nearby, Hadrian spared a glance back at where Zathrian died and his heart lightened when three ghostly figures waved back at him. Thank you...
A cold breeze entered the now empty chamber and all three vanished with the wind, Zathrian's smile the last to disappear.
"Hadrian?" A warm hand clasped around his own and Hadrian glanced back at his concerned lover. "You alright?"
Hadrian smiled and he hooked a hand around Alistair's neck before gently bringing his lover down to kiss him passionately and without reservations.
As they separated, it was to see each other with flushed cheeks and dazed eyes. "I am now," was all Hadrian could say before Alistair stopped him with another kiss, tender and soft. The two would have continued were it not for an annoyed exclamation coming from Morrigan of all people followed by a remark of 'do continue!" from Zevran. Alistair, not wanting to give the elf a free show at his lover, merely growled in annoyance against his lover's lips before pulling back and then taking his lover's hand to lead him out of the hallowed ruins.
-TBC-
A/N: This is what I get for listening to sad music, a mixture of Two Steps from Hell and Mass Effect OSTs. Hope this was worth the wait as well, despite the lack of smut. How do you all like the story so far? Too slow? Too fast? I hope to finish this before the year ends as I want to concentrate on producing a possible sequel.