Shadow and Rose

by Lady Norbert

A/N: Thanks to all my readers and reviewers as usual, and a special thanks to my goddaughter Kristie, for beta reading the funeral scene and making some good suggestions.

Chapter Thirteen: Mixed Metal Rounds

A memento of an early conquest, mercenary or romantic. Incriminating items melted down into nondescript tokens. The contributing parts were likely worth more than the result, but that's not the point.

I had to leave off writing there, as we are still on the road. Since things don't really stop happening long enough for me to write them down, keeping this journal updated may be a lost cause until we get back to Soldier's Peak. Still, I'll try.

We were all bone-tired after our battles with the ogre and the darkspawn necromancer, but we had a promise to keep to Cailan. So we trudged back up to the Ostagar bridge, satisfied that we had purged the grounds of darkspawn at least for the time being. He was waiting for us, and I looked up at his bloodied body. I'd never felt a pain quite like what I felt in that moment. "Alistair, are you all right?" asked Wynne.

"They left him here to rot," I said, repeating my earlier observation. "We need to do something."

"He is of royal blood," said Elissa. "He deserves a pyre."

"He was a good man," I said, "who hoped too much and died too young. He deserves what little honor we can afford to grant him." I looked at the pieces of his armor we had collected, uncertain. "Should we dress him first?"

"I thought you would want to keep the armor," said Wynne. "It belonged to your father. It's rightfully yours."

I turned to her, puzzled. "How did you know? About Maric and me, I mean."

"Little hints, here and there. You and our late lamented king - both of them, I should say - have the same jawline, the same eyes. Things like that. Once I had formed my suspicion, I asked the one person I was fairly sure would be in your confidence." She glanced at Elissa, who looked apologetic. "I haven't told anyone, don't worry." (I was glad to hear that. I don't know what Morrigan might do with that sort of knowledge, but I'm sure it would be unpleasant.)

"It's all right. As for the armor, I'm torn," I admitted. "On the one hand, it would be nice to have the family armor, but on the other... it's not like I was ever really part of the family, you know? It might be mine by blood-right, but I'd honestly rather wear Duncan's armor. He was more of a father to me."

"Well, you do have his sword, at least," said Elissa encouragingly.

"It's something," I agreed. "But I wish I had something that was more like... something that felt more like his, to remember him by."

"Well, in the meantime, there's the armor. And it really is good armor."

"It is. If you're sure - if you think it's right."

"I do." Her face fell. "Let's attend to our king first, though."

It was no easy feat to get Cailan down from where the darkspawn had hung him, and more than once I had to forcibly not think about what I was doing. We finally got him unhooked, though, and once the pyre was built we laid him gently on the wood. Elissa did something that I didn't quite understand; she drew a knife and cut off one of his small braids. I supposed she had a reason, although I haven't yet worked out what it might be and I don't entirely feel right asking. Wynne cast a fire spell with her staff, and the blaze was soon crackling away.

We stood and watched it for a long time. I sort of wished Leliana were there, to sing some funeral dirge; she probably knows something that would have suited. Instead we all just kept silent. Beside me, Elissa's head was bent. She took off her gauntlets and raised her hood; perhaps it's a Highever tradition.

I thought about Cailan, about the man he was. He was a good king, or at least he tried to be. He wanted only the best for Ferelden. I know that. And as little as we knew one another, there's a part of me that will always miss him, and regret what never had the chance to be.

Something cold and soft brushed my palm. Glancing down, I saw that Elissa had reached over and folded her hand around mine. Our fingers interlocked. When my eyes found her face, her hood was obscuring one eye; the one that was visible had tears in it. I wasn't sure if she was crying for Cailan, or for me, or maybe both. But she could see that I was in pain, and she was trying to comfort me. She, who has endured more pain and loss in recent months than anyone should ever have to endure in their lifetime, only wanted to ease mine.

And in that instant, I knew.

I guess I can't do anything quite normally. There I was, attending my half-brother's funeral pyre, realizing for the first time that I am completely and hopelessly in love with this woman. Or maybe I've always known it and this was just the first time I let myself admit it. Maybe I've been hers since the moment I first laid eyes on her; isn't that what they say in the ballads and things? I don't know.

We're still in Ostagar, until morning. After Cailan's pyre burned itself out and the ashes scattered to the winds, we crossed back to the western camp and sheltered in a relatively intact portion of the ruins. Wynne tended our battle wounds, and the two women helped me clean Cailan's armor so that I might wear it. I'll probably need to have Mikhael Dryden replace some of the buckles and padding when we get back to Soldier's Peak, but it's serviceable and fits well enough.

Elissa sleeps. Her cloak is white, which I don't think I mentioned before, and she looks like a snow maiden. I probably shouldn't watch her sleep, it's a little creepy. But she looks peaceful.

When Wynne shook me awake for my turn at watch, she berated me for fussing with one of my bandaged wounds. I complained about the itch, and she said that if it reopens and festers, she won't heal it again. I don't want that to happen, so to distract myself from the wound, I asked for her advice. I admit I'm not sure why I asked for her advice, except that... well, next to Elissa herself, I probably trust Wynne the most out of all our companions. And she's like the grandmother, or even the mother, that I never really had.

"Wynne... what would you do if someone told you they loved you?"

"Check their eyesight first, perhaps," she said dryly. She gave me a strange look. "Is this someone I should know about?"

"No. I mean, pretend you're a woman."

You know, you'd think I would have learned my lesson after pulling that with Leliana, but nooo. Wynne was less sarcastic about it, at least. "I am a woman, Alistair. That shouldn't be too hard, but I'll give it a try."

"No, that's not what I meant. Just... pretend you're another woman. And someone told you that they loved you. How would you react?"

She looked very curious now, and I was starting to regret bringing it up. "Does this someone just blurt it out? Do I love them back? I need context."

"I don't know if you love them back." Oh, Maker, please let her love me back, someday. "Maybe you do. You've spent a lot of time with this person."

She suggested that I wait for the right moment - get her alone and maybe give her a gift. I tried to tell her that I wasn't speaking about myself, but Wynne wasn't born yesterday and I could tell she wasn't fooled. She was still chuckling when she went off to her bedroll.

So we have seen Flemeth.

We broke camp at first light and headed into the Korcari Wilds once again. It was surprisingly easy to locate Flemeth's hut, or at least I was surprised. When we found her waiting for us, though, it made a lot more sense. She knew we were coming, so she made sure we could find our way through the swamp.

Not only did she know we were coming, she knew why we were coming. Ugh, these Witches of the Wilds make my skin crawl - she and her daughter both. Elissa was her usual gracious self, insisting that she only wanted to talk. Flemeth just laughed about how Morrigan had "at last found someone to dance to her tune." To her credit, she figured out pretty quickly that Elissa didn't want to kill her, and she was willing to avoid the confrontation.

"Morrigan wishes my grimoire." I don't even want to know how she knew. "Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."

"What happens to you?" Elissa looked confused.

"I go. Perhaps someday I surprise Morrigan. Or I may simply watch. It will be interesting to see what she does with her freedom - would you grant an old woman that?"

"Do you think she will believe it?"

"We believe what we want to believe," Flemeth said. That's probably true.

Elissa thought it over. "I could do that," she said at last. "Maker knows I don't want to battle with you, Flemeth. Not after you saved our lives."

"It's far easier this way, don't you think?" The witch smirked. "The lies are always more fun."

"Fun?" I interjected. "Tricking Morrigan? Oh... who am I kidding? That does sound fun! I'm a bad man." Elissa tried not to laugh.

Flemeth directed her to enter the hut, where the grimoire was inside a trunk. Wynne and I waited outside, the two elderly mages eyeing each other. I don't think Wynne entirely approves of Elissa consenting to just take the book and go, but she also knows that Flemeth is the reason there are any Grey Wardens left in Ferelden. So whatever she really thinks, she's holding her tongue.

Elissa emerged, the grimoire in her hands, and looked at Flemeth. "Thank you, once again."

"You and I will not meet again, young Warden. That, I guarantee."

"Farewell, then."

We made our way back through the swamp to Ostagar once more, as it was easier to return to the road from there. Elissa was silent, subdued. I think she's worried that Morrigan will be able to sense the truth, that we didn't really kill her mother. I don't know if Elissa's a good liar or not, since as far as I can tell she's never lied where I could see it. But if Morrigan can honestly be said to like anybody, it's probably Elissa, and she might figure that the only way Elissa could possibly have brought her the grimoire would be to have killed Flemeth. So maybe there won't need to be much lying at all.

We're on our way to Honnleath, traveling around the southern shore of Lake Calenhad.

I haven't talked to Elissa yet. I mean, we've talked, but not about what's on my mind. I'm thinking maybe Wynne's right, I'll just give her the rose and see what comes of it. I need to wake her in about an hour for her turn at watch, and I wonder if that would be a good time.

It wasn't, as it turns out. She was having another taint-fueled nightmare and it didn't feel exactly right to follow that up with "Here's a flower, and have I mentioned that I don't think I could ever live without you again?"

I did help her to stand, because she felt a bit shaky after throwing off the dream. Her being shaky was convenient for me, though, as horrible as that sounds. It helped to hide the fact that my hands started shaking when I got close to her. Maker's breath, what is this woman doing to me?

I'm still having trouble understanding just what in Andraste's name happened today.

We're just beyond the southernmost point of Lake Calenhad, and we had rounded a bend in the path when a woman ran up to us, breathless and looking terrified. "Thank the Maker!" she cried. "We need help, please, they attacked the wagon! Follow me, I'll take you to them!" Naturally, off we went.

The woman led us to an elf, with odd tattoos on his face. He looked at us, and raised his hand in some sort of gesture, and then abruptly we were surrounded by warriors. They popped up out of the broken wagon, ran along the top of the hill to our left. Elissa had to dive out of the way of the dead tree they nearly pushed onto her.

As I helped her up, the elf shouted, "The Grey Warden dies here!"

It was a pretty brutal fight; we were vastly outnumbered. Thank the Maker we had Wynne with us, because I'm fairly sure her healing magic kept both Elissa and me from collapsing more than once. When the dust finally cleared, we had managed to vanquish our foes, but the elf was, somehow, still alive - unconscious, but alive. "Bind him," said Elissa. "When he wakes, I want answers."

Before I could find anything with which to bind him, however, he started to wake. He groaned, staring up at us, and mostly he just seemed surprised to find himself alive. "I rather thought I would wake up dead," he admitted. (How does one 'wake up dead,' I wonder?) "But I see you haven't killed me yet." He was studying Elissa. "You're rather an aggressive little minx, aren't you? Lovely, too."

I don't believe I have ever in my life been so close to growling. It only got worse.

The elf knew he was about to be interrogated, so he offered to save us the trouble of questioning him by volunteering the answers. "My name is Zevran - Zev to my friends - and I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather happy you failed," Elissa said flatly.

"As would I be in your shoes." Zevran spent a few minutes lamenting his fate, saying something about how being captured by the target would put a crimp in his assassin's career. He then explained, at her request, that the Crows are an order of assassins in Antiva who are renowned for getting the job done. They're apparently rather expensive to hire. Unsurprisingly, Zevran's employer is Loghain. Well, who else in Ferelden (or anywhere else) has reason to want to kill Grey Wardens?

Except... while he was continuing to explain things to Elissa and answer her questions, I realized something. Zevran hadn't said "The Grey Wardens die here." He said "The Grey Warden dies here." He was speaking only of one. He wasn't hired to kill us both - he was hired to kill her. Up until that point, I was sure I'd been doing the right thing by letting Elissa be the mouthpiece of the group. We're surely doing better under her leadership than we would be under mine, right? She's courageous and intelligent and, as I said to Duncan after her Joining, she seems born to lead. But now I can't help wondering if I've made a mistake. Maybe, by keeping quiet, I've inadvertently placed the woman I love in danger. I'll need to think about this some more.

I sort of came back to the conversation when Zevran started making an offer. "Here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit," he said. "If you don't kill me, the Crows will. I like living, and you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause, so let me serve you instead."

She looked surprised, and understandably suspicious. "How do I know you won't stab me in my sleep or something?"

"I happen to be a very loyal person," he protested. "Well, until the point where someone expects me to die for failing. That's not really a fault, is it?" He explained that he hadn't really had a choice about joining the Crows, who bought him as a child from some slave market. Charming place, Antiva. "The only way to get out of the Crows is to sign up with someone they can't touch," he said, gesturing toward her. "Even if I were to kill you now, they might just kill me on principle. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

She was still frowning. "You must think I'm royally stupid."

"I think you're royally hard to kill. And utterly gorgeous," he added. "Not that I think you'll respond to simple flattery. But there are worse things in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

I nearly took his head off for that comment. In fact, I guess I made some move to draw my sword, because Wynne put a hand on my arm to stop me. "Don't," she murmured.

The negotiation carried on for a few more minutes. All Zevran requested was that he be allowed to live and that, if at some point Elissa decided she had no more use for him, she let him go his own way. "Until then, I am yours. Is that fair?"

She asked what benefits she would derive from the arrangement. He cited various rogue-like skills - picking locks, stealth, stabbing people in the back, being able to stand around and look pretty (wait, that's not a skill...) - and pointed out that since he knows how the Crows operate, he would be able to protect himself as well as Elissa. "Not that you seem to need much help in that regard." Oh, he also offered to help warm her bed or fend off unwanted suitors, and Wynne had to take a firmer grip on my arm.

"I don't need assistance with those things," Elissa replied calmly. Thank the Maker for her good sense. "But for the rest... very well. I will accept your offer."

"Does that really seem like a good idea?" I blurted. I was honestly concerned, it wasn't all jealousy. Okay, there was a lot of jealousy. But I was also worried he might betray us. Her.

"Don't worry about it," she said gently. "We could use him."

"All right," I grumbled, "I see your point. Still, if there was a sign that we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

She gave me a quick smile, then helped Zevran to his feet. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such time as you choose to release me from it," he said formally. "I am your man, without reservation. This I swear." And he bowed. Well, maybe it'll be all right. I hope.

"My name is Elissa," she told him. "You may call me that. This is Wynne, a senior enchanter of the Fereldan Circle of Magi, and Alistair, my fellow Grey Warden."

"So there are more than one of you. I wasn't sure. Loghain's man was mostly intent on having me rid him of you, lady."

"Loghain's man?" she repeated. "You mean Arl Howe?"

"I believe that was the name, yes."

"That explains a great deal." She scowled.

"I am surprised to find your entourage so small," he said as we started to return to the path.

"We three are handling a few minor errands. The rest of our party is back at Soldier's Peak - we'll be returning there once we take a look at the situation in the village of Honnleath."

Elissa and Wynne fell in step beside each other, conversing quietly, so I dropped back to chat with Zevran. "I just thought that, since we'll be traveling together, I'd offer some advice," I said.

"Oh? And what advice might that be? I am open to suggestion."

"If there's ever a confrontation," I said, "always let Elissa do most of the talking. She's noble-born; she's been trained in diplomacy. Believe me, it's probably saved our lives a few times."

"That seems wise. Anything else?"

"Back in Soldier's Peak you'll meet a Qunari warrior called Sten. He doesn't like being asked questions. Also, he doesn't seem to want to play I Spy, but that's probably just me."

"Interesting."

"And don't ever let anyone hear you offer to warm her bed again."

"Pardon?"

"Just trust me. If you persist in paying her attentions she doesn't want, it will end badly for you."

"...attentions that she doesn't want, or attentions that someone else doesn't want paid to her?"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't ask that, and just say that you haven't met Morrigan. Elissa is the only person in the world she seems to actually like. If she thinks you're pestering, you could wake up as a toad or worse."

"Ah. This is good advice, thank you."

I'm reading back over what I wrote. Well, I'm pretending to read. Mostly what I'm doing is watching Elissa being Elissa, and Zevran lapping it up like cream. She's doing the same thing she normally does when the rest of the group is with us - talking to him and getting to know him. And I wouldn't mind, except that he sort of tried to kill her and then unleashed all sorts of silver-tongued flattery on her.

She wants to befriend her would-be killer, fine. I suppose it's not the strangest thing she's done. But I don't think being friends is what he has in mind.

The rose. That settles it. I'm giving her the rose, as soon as I can get her alone.

When Elissa woke me for my turn at watch, I knew it was my only real chance. "Can you sit up with me for a few minutes?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

"Have a look at this." And I put the rose in her hands. It was snowing lightly again, flakes resting on the red petals. "Do you know what this is?"

"It's a rose." She looked confused by the stupid question. Then she smiled. "Is this your new weapon of choice?"

"Yes, that's right. Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent!" We both laughed quietly. "Or it could just be a rose," I continued. "I know it's pretty dull by comparison."

"Well, sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon." She brought it to her nose.

"Is it that easy to see right through me?" Of course it is. She's always been able to see right through me, almost from the very beginning. She understands me, somehow, in a way that no one else ever has, and she was the first person in my whole life to make me feel like she liked me for who I am. I never had a chance of not falling for her.

I explained how I had picked the rose in Lothering, how I had been surprised that something so beautiful had managed to exist in the midst of so much ugliness. How the idea of the darkspawn taint destroying it had been too painful, and I couldn't leave it.

"And I thought I might give it to you," I admitted. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you. Here I am sometimes, doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly had an easy time of things yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Grey Warden - not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy." I was trying to find the words. "I just wanted to say something. To let you know what a rare and wonderful thing you've been to find in the midst of all this darkness."

She seemed like she was trying to hide behind the rose, which was awkward and sweet because it was not nearly big enough. "That's probably the loveliest thing anyone's ever said to me." Playfully, she asked, "So, are we married now?"

Yes please didn't seem like the right answer. I coughed. "You won't land me that easily, woman! I know I'm quite the prize."

She chuckled. "Indeed. Thank you, Alistair."

"Sleep well, Elissa."