Author's Note: Thanks to everyone following and reviewing! This was a fun chapter to write, despite the overall melancholy that is The Return to Ostagar. I took a little (maybe a lottle?) bit of liberties here and there, because the fact that a dying man prompts you to go there is, well, stupid. The Warden and Alistair and Wynne have MORE than enough reason to go back on their own. Not to mention it's Bann Loren's lands you go to, and that has this weird continuity problem with the Noble origin, anyway. (If his loyalities are so suspect, why is Eleanor Cousland besties with his wife Lady Landra, huh? Huh? Riddle me this, Bioware!) Anyway, hope you all enjoy. The title of this chapter is an AFI song, off the most excellent album "The Art Of Drowning."
Chapter 47 - The Despair Factor
Ostagar was looming beyond, Serena could feel it. Their party had been on the road for days, traveling steadily southwest, back towards the mountains, towards Redcliffe, towards the Wilds. Lothering was but a burnt out shell of it's former miserably over-crowded self. Nothing stood, save the Chantry and a few houses near it. The town was all but abandoned, but Leliana had insisted they stop and see if anyone survived.
To Serena's immense relief, it appeared as if many of the people and refugees had heeded her warning and fled the tiny town before the darkspawn came and raided it. They found only a few bodies, but that was enough, as they had been desecrated beyond anything Serena had ever seen. Most appeared eaten, limbs torn asunder, large bites and claw marks crisscrossing the blackened skin. It steeled her resolve to see them, to know that this could not... would not happen to the rest of Ferelden.
Serena's senses were on edge, the taint tingling in her blood as she passed buildings burned to the ground or simply demolished by the great fists of an ogre. Her new abilities pushed her even further down, as she could barely sense any normal animals left in the area. Nearly everything held the decay of the Blight within it near Lothering, and she found herself pressing out desperately, searching for something, anything, not corrupted by the darkspawn.
With a great caw, a crow flew down from the sky, landing on Serena's outstretched arm. It's oily black feathers were perfect, although the bird appeared thin from lack of food. Serena rummaged in her pack and pulled out a bit of dried fish, feeding it to the hungry crow.
"I know, it is terrible. But I am glad that you made it, my friend," Serena cooed to the crow, oblivious to the quizzical look Wynne shot her. "If you can manage it, fly further north, it's safer there. You may find friends." She gave the crow a bit more fish before releasing it again into the air.
"So, do you understand what they are saying?" the older mage asked, watching the crow fly away. "I am curious what it is you sense when you... speak to them."
"It used to be images, just... flashes of memories or feelings," Serena replied. "Now... it's much clearer. It's not like conversing with you, animals don't think in the same linear patterns we do. It's more feeling based, I suppose. Like speaking to a small child." Serena paused to examine the corruption that had started growing up the side of the Chantry, and she pulled her dagger, scratching it off diligently.
Wynne had assumed that was all Serena had to say about it until she suddenly turned back, speaking quietly. "Morrigan... when she's transformed... she thinks the same. Don't tell her I said this, but... It's almost like reading her mind." Serena sheathed her dagger again. "It's probably the only time anyone knows what she's thinking."
"Except every time she opens that mouth," Wynne replied, casting a long look at the witch. Serena followed her glance and laughed. Morrigan sat on the edge of the wagon, and from the look on both their faces, she was having another row with Alistair.
"He hates her," Serena said, grinning. "He says she dangerous and evil. Thinks I shouldn't be so nice to her."
"Why are you nice to her? She certainly doesn't deserve it."
Serena shrugged. "Morrigan can be nice when she wants to, which isn't too terribly often, I'll admit... but I think, deep down, she's just... lonely... and lashes out at people who she sees as weak. She... doesn't understand that not everyone has to be a silver-tongued jackal to have an inner strength about them. Alistair, for example... you have to get to know him a little to see how protective he can be, otherwise he just comes off as a sarcastic jokester."
Wynne nodded, putting a hand out to burn the corruption Serena had cut off the Chantry's wall. "I think I see more and more why she and Alistair deferred to you, when you first began this journey."
"Oh, boy, and was that a fun two days, let me tell you. Alistair was still reeling from Ostagar, and Morrigan... well, you know how she can be. No sympathy for anyone, ever. I thought they were going to murder each other before we got here." Serena gazed up at the statue of Andraste that stood outside the Chantry's huge double doors. "What do you think we'll find down there? In Ostagar?"
Wynne put a gentle hand on Serena's shoulder, squeezing it. "Closure, I hope."
The Imperial Highway leading into Ostagar had definitely seen better days. The darkspawn corruption had traveled up from the Wilds, or so it seemed, for all the stones were a dirty black, as if a great fire had tried to ravage the road itself.
Since Lothering, they had run into roaming bands of darkspawn every few hours. Because of the frequency of the attacks, Alistair and Serena had decided to split up, Serena leading the front, and Alistair bringing up the rear, so they wouldn't be overwhelmed without sufficient warning.
Being away from Serena was taking it's toll in this ravaged land, however. Alistair found himself pushing out with his Grey Warden senses every few minutes, searching for her unique signature among all the decay. Always pulsating just above the disgusting blackness, Serena was like a warm glowing beckon of pure energy.
The wreckage of Ostagar loomed all around them now. Alistair could see Bodahn look around anxiously as they moved further in, the wet snow on the ground hampering the movement of the wagon's wheels. At the front, Serena signaled for the wagon to come to a stop in the ruins of the old infirmary.
"Alright, I think it would be best if we went ahead on foot from here. Morrigan, Peanut, Leliana and Sten, I want you four staying here, with Bodahn and Sandal. Protect the wagon and our supplies. Leliana, I want you to take these-" Serena pulled two pins from her hair and pressed them into the hand of the red-haired bard. "If you see any chests, anything that looks like it might contain documents, open it. Especially if it has a wyvern on it."
Serena pointed into the valley just beyond the infirmary. "The King's camp was just there. The rest of us will be going to the tower."
"Will you be... do you think you will be safe enough?" Leliana asked. Serena saw her blue eyes flick to the elven assassin briefly before coming back to her. "Perhaps we should stay together. This place makes me... very ill at ease."
Serena put a hand on her shoulder. "I know. Peanut will be able to sense the darkspawn, but I don't think they will come to you. The only reason they attacked our group at all was because Alistair and I... they can sense us." Serena dropped her voice. "Look for those documents, Leliana. If you... if you find anything with the griffon on it, too..."
"I know. I will find whatever this ruin has left. You have my word, Serena." The bard nodded again, then turned back to the others, waving an arm. "Maker keep you safe, all of you!"
Walking through the old camp was like walking through a graveyard for Alistair. Smashed tents littered what had formally been the Grey Warden camp, as if an ogre had stomped through the place. Perhaps an ogre had done just that, he thought miserably, remembering the enormous beast they had fought in the Tower of Ishal.
Glancing about, Alistair found himself drawn to a cluster of crushed tents and crates, his mind telling him this had been where Duncan had set down. He barely noticed when Serena kneeled down next to him, their hands rooting through the refuse for anything at all and nothing in particular.
Then there it was. A mangled metal chest, the Grey Warden griffon still emblazoned on the lock. He watched anxiously as Serena pulled another pin from her hair and went to work on the lock, frowning as it refused to open.
"Damn. I need... something long, a stick, maybe. Thin." She searched around her feet, pulling a small blackened branch from the ground and ripped the tip from it, shoving it into the lock. After a few seconds, they both heard a click and Serena pushed the chest open, looking inside.
A large packet of documents, tied together with bits of twine were inside, along with an empty Grey Warden pendent and a leather book. Serena pulled out the documents and the small bound journal, exchanging a glance with Alistair.
"This, too," he said quietly, picking up the empty pendent. "We'll have to rebuild, someday." He saw Serena wipe at her eyes as she stood, putting the papers and things into her pack.
"There's no bodies," she murmured. "I've seen some on the way here, but... none of them were Wardens. I... I don't think we'll find him, Alistair. I think they took them."
"Why? Why would they... Maker, I don't even want to know, I can't..." Alistair kicked at a pile of sacks angrily, unable to contain his frustration. "It's all so... wrong. They're filthy and..." Alistair paused, leaning down again. "I... it's the..." He picked up a huge silver chalice and frowned, rubbing his gloved hands over the surface, trying to wipe away the dirt encrusted on it.
"The Joining," Serena said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You should keep that. You... know all the words and everything. Duncan would want you to take care of it. He... he would want that."
Alistair looked down at the chalice, unable to help the emotions that flooded to the surface. Placing the cup in his pack, he grabbed Serena's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I want to find... whatever did this. Find them, and push my sword so deep into their flesh, the bloody archdemon will feel it."
The bridge leading to the tower was little worse for the wear than the last time Serena had stood upon it. Large chunks of the stone were still missing, cracked from boulders and spells being hurled at it. Darkspawn and human bodies alike littered the bridge nearest camp, where it appeared as if the archers on the wall had tried to hold the bridge as long as possible before simply being overwhelmed.
Serena couldn't help but feel fury burn inside her as she thought of Loghain, standing just beyond the bridge, hundreds of men at his command... simply waiting. If they hadn't turned north, would Ostagar look like this? Would the horde have been able to overcome Cailan's grand army? Serena shook her head, the thoughts haunting her.
"My dear, you need to see this." Zevran appeared beside her, his usually amiable eyes looking grave. He tugged her along the bridge until she saw it. A makeshift cross, built by the darkspawn, was propped up in the very center of the bridge. A large blonde man was strung up from the top, his hands and feet bound to the stiff rotted wood, arrows piercing his skin in a grisly display. Two pointed planks were propped up behind the man, as if to make him appear as some gruesome looking parody of a benevolent spirit of the Fade.
Serena gasped, tripping on her own feet at she realized who it was that hung before her. His kind and open face, promising his army to aid her against Arl Howe... His talk of glorious battles, and the outright admiration he had shown for the Grey Wardens, and Duncan. Hot tears sprung to Serena's eyes as the memories flooded in, and she heard Wynne behind her, a sob choking out as she, too, recognized their king.
"Cailan!" Alistair's shout was anguished as he ran forward, his hands reaching for the body of his half-brother. Nearly to the fallen king, Serena saw him turn as they heard an ear-splitting screech. A handful of darkspawn were rushing at them from the other side, an emissary among them.
"You will die!" Alistair bellowed, pulling his sword as he charged the line. Serena fumbled to her feet, hurrying after him, Zevran right beside her as they sprinted to catch him. She could hear Wynne behind her, already chanting a spell.
"Alistair! They have a mage!" Serena watched as Alistair swung his sword, decapitating the first darkspawn in a smooth gesture and bashing the next back with his shield. His fury was pouring off of him in waves, and she saw him put out his hands as a rush of energy expelled from him in all directions, knocking the small mob of darkspawn onto their backs. Like lightning he struck them, his sword slashing through the corrupted fiends as Zevran and Serena just reached him in time for the emissary to scramble to his feet and try to scurry away.
"You think you can run?" Serena cried, throwing her dagger at the beasts' back as she ran after it, cursing loudly. With her second dagger, Serena ripped into the magic-wielding darkspawn, cutting it's face from his head. "You bloody savages defiled my king! He was the best of us, and you killed him! You killed them all!" She stabbed and cut, black ichor running from the wounds, her grief and rage only abating when Zevran came, touching her shoulder lightly.
"It's dead, my dear. You could not kill it any deader." Zevran pulled Serena to her feet, taking her dagger from the back of the darkspawn, and wiped it with a cloth, handing it back to her. "I understand you all have lost much here, but we should keep our wits about us, no?"
"Yes, you're... you're right. I... I'm sorry." Serena put a hand to her head, trying to block out the headache that was forming there. "We lost everything here, but I did not think it would be this difficult to return."
"Are you injured at all?" Zevran asked, his amber eyes searching her body.
"No, no... I... this is all... its' blood." Serena looked down at her boots, feeling ashamed for losing complete control. Wynne and Alistair stood nearby, she saw, Alistair getting a wound on his arm healed by the mage, his face still contorted in angry lines.
"They're wearing his armor," Alistair said quietly. He rolled his shoulder, testing the arm Wynne had healed, and marched over to the fallen emissary, pulling the golden gauntlets and greaves from its body. "This is just... madness. They sully his body, and then have the nerve to steal his armor and wear it around?" He kicked at the bloody mass that was formally the darkspawn's face and Serena heard a wet throp sound. "Bastards."
Serena turned, looking at the other darkspawn Alistair had decimated. Indeed, all of them were bedecked in a mish-mosh of found armor pieces, two in particular standing out. A hurlock's decapitated body wore Cailan's golden breastplate, black ichor oozing out the top of it.
Another fat darkspawn, nearly cleaved in two by Alistair's blade, bore the late king's helm atop it's head. As Serena worked to get the breastplate off, she saw Wynne drop down beside the genlock and pull the helm from its body. The older mage handed the helm to Alistair as Serena finally pried the plate from the darkspawn's chest, crushing it's exposed rib cage under her boot after.
"They'll need a through cleaning to get all the darkspawn filth off, but... they'd fit you, if you wanted to wear it." Serena's voice was soft as she handed the breastplate to Alistair. He stood quietly, staring down at the golden pieces of armor in his hands and shook his head.
"I don't know. Maybe. I can't think about it right now... they're so... tarnished." Alistair set the pieces into his pack, his honey eyes distant and closed off. He wandered past them and back down the bridge; back to the hideous display the darkspawn had made of the former king of Ferelden.
"Forgive us, my king," Alistair intoned, bending to one knee, sadness and grief laying thick in his voice. "Once we've flushed the darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time... we'll be back to see you to the Maker." He stood again to face Serena, but his eyes focused beyond her, to the enormous structure she knew awaited them. "Up there. The Tower of Ishal. Let's do this."
"As you command," Serena replied, pulling her daggers.