Salem

The scent of charred flesh filled the air and I smiled. I loathed the darkspawn. Everything about them had stained my life. How is it we still suffer, I wondered, from the arrogance of those Ages past? If there is a Maker, why can we find no grace? I swear, all races would enslave themselves for the faintest glimmer of hope that somewhere, we are watched over by one with greater power than we possess.

Leather creaked and hesitant steps approached. Alistair.

"What do you want?" I asked, brusque.

Truth be told, I held nothing but fury in my heart against my companions at the moment. I vanished for one instant, plunged into nightmares beyond the mind's conception, only to find those I cared for at each other's throats upon my return.

"You're still angry." Alistair began to retreat.

I heaved a sigh and forced my rage into the back of my mind. I would only sow more discontent among them were I to remain wrathful. "That changes nothing. What do you need?"

"Just...well...er..." he cleared his throat. "Did I...did I forsake my duty, Salem? Did I just shove everything onto your shoulders and follow behind you?"

Of course you did. You said as much in Lothering. "Who put those thoughts in your head, Alistair?"

"L...Leliana." he mumbled. "We all had a hell of an argument. You stopped it before it got any worse, thank the Maker."

Leliana? That does not sound like you at all. What have I walked into? "I'll speak to her. Put it out of your mind, Alistair."

"Are you certain?" he asked. "I feel I have...failed you somehow. Failed Duncan and the wardens and Arl Eamon. I do not like this guilt, Salem. I have failed many people in my lifetime. To feel I have done so when it can be least afforded...I do not know if I can bear it."

"Do not let your own mind weaken you." I cautioned, feeling my heart ache with suppressed emotion. I longed to surrender, to give into the darker voices that wanted to lash out, scream that it had been too much too soon...that I was not ready. "We cannot afford to let doubt linger, lest it become a cancer and devour us all."

"Still...I feel as though I should apologize." he said, low, awkward with emotion.

There is so much to forgive. "There is nothing to forgive." I laid my hand on his shoulder. "Do not think on it any longer."

"As you will." briefly, he touched my hand. "You should...get back to camp."

"Of course. Keep a eye on the fire, will you? Too many of them have run rampant."

And it falls to me to extinguish them.

"Do not be too hard on them, Salem." Alistair urged. "Whatever happened today has been a long time coming."

"I know."

I walked back to camp with a heavy heart. Who must I be in this moment? All I want to do is take Leliana in my arms and hold her. Even if what I saw was a vision conjured by the Fade, it felt real. Watching her die...no. I cannot be soft-hearted. I must speak with her as a leader, not as a lover. And yet...what she said to Alistair was truth. How...this is beyond cruel.

I followed the stringent scent of elfroot to Wynne's tent. Morrigan's theory had proven true. My senses were heightened, my mind clear at last. Even though I could not see, I could walk unguided now in the waking world. I had stopped Leliana's dagger and Morrigan's staff without sight. I could not, however, celebrate this gift. No. I had to slog through a swamp of convoluted emotion and try to sort out the madness.

I tapped lightly on Wynne's tent flap. "Enter." the senior enchanter called.

I swept the flap aside and entered the tent. I could hear but one other's breath besides mine. We were alone.

"Where is Leliana?" I asked.

"She returned to your tent after I finished tending her wounds." Wynne's voice was clipped.

"Maker's breath, not you as well." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What happened, Wynne? Is Leliana all right?"

The mage prioritized my inquiries. "Her arm was merely grazed. And her thigh was cut on the spine of a darkspawn's armor during her fight with Morrigan."

Panic gripped me. "What!? Is she..." I could not finish the question.

The key to the secrets of the Joining was locked away with the wardens who would not come to our aid. If anyone was infected with the taint, we had no hope for them but a merciful death. I could not fathom losing Leliana to such a cruel fate.

"I am no warden, Salem." Wynne's voice changed, gentling. "I have no way of knowing, should the worst have come to pass."

"Fine...fine." again, I placed a fierce rein on my emotions. "Then tell me what happened."

"A chain reaction of pent up emotions." the healer replied. "Leliana saw you fall when Morrigan sent you into the Fade. It began an argument that quickly spiraled out of control. Things...truths were said that cut many of us to the bone. The bard is eerily perceptive, Salem."

"So Alistair has told me." I sighed. "We had an...uncomfortable discussion."

"Well, I can imagine what he said to you." Wynne sighed. "What did you say in return?"

"To put those thoughts from his mind." I assured her. "Despite their truth."

"All things work to their own ends, Salem. Fate treated you cruelly, but it gave Ferelden someone who can save her. From one of her most honorable houses no less."

"Alistair is Maric's son." I frowned. "Is there a nobler house in Ferelden than that of her king?"

"Do not think that my time cloistered in the tower has dimmed my knowledge of the world beyond it." Wynne chided. "Cousland honor existed long before Ferelden's monarchy. Even when this land belonged to Orlais, your family was respected and sought out in difficult times. The legacy continues with you."

"Damn honor." I cursed. "Look where it's gotten me. Blinded and helpless against the forces of the abyss."

"You seem less helpless than before." I could hear Wynne's canny smile.

"You can thank the demons for that." I scoffed.

"Salem, you didn't!" Wynne exclaimed. She grasped me about the shoulders and shook me. "How could you!?"

I pursed my lips. "Wynne, look into my eyes." She drew away and I could feel the heat of her gaze on me. "What do you see?"

"Nothing." the senior enchanter calmed. "You are as you were."

"I do not truck with demons." I spat. "No matter the sweetness of their temptations. Or the horror of their vengeance."

"I should have known." Wynne apologized. "Forgive me, Salem."

"It is no matter." I shrugged off the sting of the retracted accusation. "You're certain Leliana is all right?"

"Her wounds will heal." Wynne assured me. "Be gentle with her, warden. She...we all saw a different face of you this evening, but I believe she was most affected."

"From all accounts, Leliana began this mess." I ran my hand through my hair. "But she was only reacting to my decisions. So, in all actuality, I should bear the blame."

"Leliana was not the sole aggressor." Wynne said. "One needs flint and stone both to conjure flame. The bard could easily have calmed if Morrigan had not goaded her."

"That is easily believed. But I can no more chain Morrigan's tongue than I could harness the stars."

"I would think that harnessing the stars would be an easier task. Go to Leliana, Salem. You are worried; I can tell."

"Thank you for looking after her, Wynne." I said.

"I am only sorry that I did not have the ability to stop what transpired."

"You needn't worry about that." I told her, shouldering yet another burden.

I left her tent and walked toward my own, absently petting Burrow as he trotted alongside me. "Who must I be, boy?" I wondered yet again.

Lover or commander? Gentle or absolute? There are so many faces I must show to so many. But, dear Maker...what if her blood has been tainted...