Chapter 36

Understanding

.

Kallian

Little by little, his trust in me was growing, and he allowed himself to share his weight with me as we walked. I don't know if it was only needing to get out of that damn building, or if it was the fire around us corroding the walls faster than I would like, but the path ahead seemed to have no end. It was as if hours had passed when we finally got to the library. The door was locked and the situation could not have been worse - the fire was increasingly a menace above us, and the smoke was stronger than ever. The end of the hall, where the kitchen once was, looked like a scaled-down replica of hell itself.

Lockpicking was completely out of the question, so I did the first thing that came to mind: I started punching the door down. I don't know if Alistair understood my plan or not, but even so, he prevented me from breaking my hand, and started to smack things with his gauntlet instead. Two strokes were enough, and before the door could fall, I had my knife inserted in the hole, forcing the latch inside.

Once I'd opened the door, my solar plexus took another punch from the vision before me.

Two people had been hanged in the room, tied by the neck with their own clothes, hanging from the ceiling battens. One of them was the girl I'd saved the day before from that group of bandits.

Definitely, the Maker was very sadistic.

I put my hand to my mouth instinctively, trying to stop the retching. My churning stomach made my head spin lightly, but I tried to concentrate and not flinch in front of Alistair. I couldn't even take a deep breath in order to control myself because, besides the smoke, which was the obvious reason, the smell of burned human flesh was nauseating, so strong that it seemed to come from within me, not from outside, if that made any sense.

Noticing my discomfort, Alistair let go of me, slowly walked to the place where we'd sat last night and took one of the chairs, throwing it at the glass door soon after. With his own hands, he began to break the remaining glass in the frame. His strength wasn't even half of what I was used to seeing, and even under the dark mist that surrounded us, I could see that his pallor had worsened significantly.

I was getting dizzy when he finally took my hand and led me to the balcony.

Once we set our foot out, our strong breaths seeking fresh air were the only sounds that dared to compete with the noise of the flames inside the building. I inhaled long portions of air at, as a wanderer drinking water from an oasis after endless hours of walking in the desert sands. My lungs seemed to be never satisfied, always looking for more, as if they feared that the air would end suddenly.

Such was my delight that I barely noticed when Alistair dropped to the floor, leaning against the low wall at the other end of the balcony.

"Hey!" I called, kneeling beside him. The Templar was breathing heavily, with his head leaning against the wall. His eyes were shut tight, and he wasn't responding to my jerks in the way I expected. He muttered something every time I swung, but he said nothing - just moaned and let his head swinging carelessly along with his body.

Fearing that he'd passed out, I positioned myself in front of him and held his face with both hands, forcing him to look at me.

"Alistair, breathe." I passed one hand by his face, wiping the blood and sweat that insisted on dripping into his eyes. "Follow my voice, Alistair." I put my hand on his ribs and turned his body to the side slightly, leaning his back on the edge of the eaves so his body would not fall over sideways. "Don't sleep, stay with me!"

"Sorry." He stuttered, opening his eyes slowly. His eyebrows were contracted painfully, but even so, he tried to give me a reassuring smile. He was so weak that all he could do was grimace. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Don't close your eyes, do you understand?" I ordered, holding his face again. He nodded, never breaking eye contact. At first I thought it was just the effect of the smoke, but to my surprise, my hand left a red trail on his cheek.

Human blood, warm and fresh.

"I just felt dizzy for a moment. But now I'm fine, really," he tried to explain, holding my hands. I couldn't but notice his worried look under my bloody palm, or the way he peered down when I narrowed my eyes in his direction, making it clear that I wanted to know what was happening.

Actually, what struck me the most was how he squirmed in place, turning his body as if to hide something from me.

"How high is the fall?" He changed the subject.

"Don't." I looked at the side of his torso that he wanted to hide from me, disenganging from his grip. There was a very strange crack between the first and the third rib, with a piece of cloth tucked deep inside the hole. I could see the blood soaking the fabric, running down very slowly, and painting the metal with red.

Realizing I had figured out almost everything on my own, he sighed, defeated. "Inside the Chantry, a Shriek stabbed me in the back." Before my hands could fly to the locks of his armor, he held me, as if my intentions were written on my forehead. "Believe me, it's better to leave it as it is."

"Alistair, you've been bleeding for a long time..." I began, but he raised a hand to silence me.

"The armor is tight." He rested one hand on the wound. "At the time, I wasn't thinking properly, so I just got an shirt from one of the bodies and stuck it inside. Both cloth and pressure are the only things preventing the bleeding. If you take it off now..." He paused. "I can keep going, I know I can."

"I see..." He was slowly bleeding to death, but still was fighting against the pain and the weakness so he'd remain standing ... I don't know if it's the right word, but deep down I felt a bit proud of him, for his courage in sacrificing so much of himself to fight for what he believed.

To my surprise, there was much more about this human that I hadn't known, and part of his truth I was witnessing right now. I wanted to help him, but he was right. I had nothing to stop the bleeding, so it was best to leave the armor the way it was.

But something should be done.

"Can I try something?"

He nodded this time, without even knowing what I had in mind, and to be honest, I was surprised by this small sign of trust.

Quickly, I ripped my pants at knee length and took my remaining boot off. To stop the bleeding, I would have to find a way to increase the pressure on the wound, and for what I had in mind, those things would fall like a glove.

"If you keep tearing off clothes that way, you'll end up leaving the building naked," he joked, pointing to my exposed belly while I tore at the sole of the boot with my dagger.

"As if you woudn't like that..." I snapped, behind a mask of indifference. My initial idea was not really trying to flirt with him or anything, because I was really bad at that sort of thing, but at the time it seemed fun. My smile, however, faded when I realized that he had become suddenly, uncomfortably quiet.

"I.. Uh ..." he stuttered, but didn't say anything else. As my gaze fell on his flushed cheeks, my brain finally clicked and I felt an overwhelming desire to kill myself.

If he hadn't thought about it yet, now the idea had been considered for sure.

I lowered my head and keep transforming my boot into a large leather piece, where its back was the middle of the strap and its tips, the shoelaces holes.

I did it pretty fast, but strangely the time seemed to be dragging. I was an imbecile to make that kind of comment to a stranger. I had to remind myself that this wasn't a bar where I could relax and make jokes as if I was with my cous...

Then, my brain clicked again. The problem wasn't the answer itself, but the fact that I'd felt at ease to say such a thing to him.

May the earth open beneath my feet and swallow me... Definitely I was going crazy.

I held the piece of my pants with one hand, determined to try to forget the last five minutes of my life. I tried to focus on the fact that he was injured and needed my help, then I took a deep breath and crawled over to his side. The idea was to put cloth over the hole and attach the leather strap around his body like a corset. This would keep the pressure high, and hopefully would lessen the bleeding.

"This will hurt," I said, still not looking at him.

"O-okay," he replied, raising his arm.

It was not pleasant, to say the least. I had to put a lot of strength into it, and apparently it was hurting a lot, because not even a second had passed before he was trying to suppress the screams of pain from his throat before they could reached his lips. His low grunts were killing me inside, but it had to be done.

"I'm sorry," he groaned when I stopped pushing the cloth inside.

I looked at him this time, but our gazes never met. He was serious, staring at the shards of glass scattered across the floor with such intensity that I had to look at them a second time to make sure I wasn't missing anything.

"Huh?" I asked, not understanding where he was going. I was the one supposed to be sorry about something, not him. Meanwhile, my hands were already passing the shoelace around his torso, ready to tie the piece of leather into place.

After a short silence, he continued, "For giving up back there." He turned to me with an expression of deep regret, looking down at me. "No one had ever fought for me like that. Not even ..." his voice died in his throat, and that was a sign that he was speaking about Duncan. He always did that. He shook his head, clearing his throat before changing his line of thinking, "The thought of you dying terrifies me. All I wanted was to see you far away, where the fire couldn't reach you. " He put his hand on mine when the last node was given, his grip weak, before continuing. "What I want to say is, thanks. It means a lot to me."

The turmoil of emotions I'd seen in his eyes when we were trying to free his leg from the debris was now taking shape within the sound of his low voice. Something in his words, the way he said them maybe, made my heart beat a bit stronger.

He meant it, and for some strange reason, I couldn't diverge from that pair of caramel eyes, that carried so many different emotions that it was nearly impossible to read. The only thing I saw in there and that my instincts screamed to the very core of my being, was that whatever that feeling was, it was true. And you know what?

I had never noticed before, but he had beautiful eyes.

"Err ... You didn't answer my question about the height of the fall," he changed the subject, clearing his throat again. He finally broke eye contact and I noticed how close our bodies were. I was still kneeling by his side, with only inches between us. And, when I felt his warm, fast breath caressing my cheeks, I finally realized that I wasn't only staring at him, but also that my efforts to stop the bleeding left my face very close to his.

One word - awkward.

"High enough to break most of our bones," I cleared my throath, agreeing that his initiative to change the subject was the best course of action at the moment.

"This is bad," I watched him trying to get up, clearing his throath again. With difficulty and repressed pain, he finally stood, staggering more than before, and sweating hard behind the blood and dirt. The largest, and dare I say the hardest opponent Alistair could face on this bloody day was his own body, and I will tell you, this battle was fought in the most absolute silence. As much as his voice had faltered, he did everything to keep his stance, and assure me that I could still count on his sword if I needed it.

He wore a brave mask, but I could see how hard he was fighting to stay on his feet, and maybe harder still to keep that mask in place. I wondered how much he had suffered in silence with the death of his companions at Ostagar, with Duncan... Now that I stopped to think about it, he went through all those losses in silence, without any way to vent, to release the tension or have someone to share his pain... Above everything, he had not only received harsh criticism day after day, but also had endured frequent humiliation from Noah.

I knew he was crying that night at Flemeth's, but we had never touched on the subject

I knew what it meant to suffer in silence, hiding behind a mask - not to hide yourself from the world, but to try to isolate the pain, creating an imaginary barrier between it and the heart of your soul. To try to convince yourself that in this place you will be protected enough to have courage to get up every morning and just try to live your life.

That was the side of him I saw that day, reflected in his eyes, gestures and choices. The wounded heart behind the jokes. I think I'd started to understand the kind of person he was, and even started to respect him a little more.

Even though Lothering had been one of the most chaotic and turbulent part of our journey, I can say that there was at least one good thing I could draw from this experience.

"We're about to turn into barbecue," he said, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Yet, you're awfully quiet." He leaned slightly on the eaves. "What's the plan?"

"A miracle," I sighed, leaning my back against the wall. He said nothing else, just kept looking down in silence.

There was nothing more to be said. Our thoughts and concerns were the same, and neither of us wanted to give voice to them. As I thought of a solution, I was content to just watch the flames slowly destroying the books, increasingly approaching us. I wondered, behind which one of those bright blazes the lion would be hiding in?

I couldn't see him, but I felt he was close. Very close.

Noah

"What in the Void are you doing here, you idiot?!" I growled after realizing that the elf's boyfriend had followed me. We were still in the Revered Mother's room, wasting more time that I wanted.

"... help you," he panted, resting his hands on his knees.

"To get in my way, you mean." I stared him for a few seconds, in a foolish attempt to intimidate him before continuing on my way through the smoke. It was so hard to see that I'd almost stumbled into some rubble near the door.

"Kallian is my friend too," he complained, following me closely. "I also have the right to - hey!"

I stopped suddenly, seeing a wall of fire and smoke where it was supposed to be stairs. The boy, doing stupid things as was expected, ran into me on the way, nearly knocking us both to the floor.

I didn't break his teeth because I had to save my energy to continue on with this insanity.

"Look where you're going!" I growled, restraining myself from punching the wall. Weak as the structure was, perhaps my punch would be the last straw for making it all come down. "Damn!"

"Why did we stop- Oh." The boy finally seemed to realize that the way was blocked. He sighed heavily, running a hand over his forehead to wipe away the sweat. "Maybe they already left?"

"They are on the second floor," I growled, starting to pace nervously. I felt as if I was in a furnace so hot that the place was like the inside of an oven, and believe me, all that steam and sweat was not helping me think straight.

I felt stuck at a dead end, powerless and weak. My hands were tied, the same way they had been when my sister crossed the front door of our house for the last time; when I saw my nephew's corpse in his dead mother's embrace in his own room, or when I left my parents to a horrible and painful death while all I could do was run away as fast as I could, as if I was a coward, selfish, unable to defend everything that was dear to me. And now, a pile of rubble was standing between me and the one thing I was supposed to do, and once again had failed.

I was just about to create a hole in the floor with my pacing when the voice of the soldier pulled me out of my thoughts. "You sure?"

"I can feel..." I deeply regretted that answer as soon as I saw the incredulous look on his face. It wasn't like I was risking my neck with a cheap guess, I really could feel other Grey Wardens, but he probably was not aware of that detail. "They. I can feel them. Ask not."

His mouth opened and closed, after looking right into my scowl. Maybe he realized that any kind of mockery would come back to him in the form of a massive bruising, and changed his mind.

"Where are they?" It was his only question, and luckily, he seemed to be taking me seriously this time. When I pointed to where my instincts guided me, something clicked inside of him and for a moment, I thought he would start jumping around like a kid.

"The library," he said, running back to the Revered Mother's room. "It has a balcony there, Warden. My sister can get them out, let's go!"

As I watched the soldier marching out of the Chantry, a new hope had grown within me. All the boldness and arrogance of the Hawke boy may have saved the lives of those two idiots.

I wondered if we could replace Alistair with him...

Anyway, I left the building with him and decided to follow him. I had nothing to lose anyway. Besides, it seemed to be my only choice, as there was no other way to get to the second floor.

If only I'd known the size and the strength of the storm that would follow...

A\N: I would love to have Carver in my group! Well, both actually. ;)

Good news, I think. Next chapter we'll be ending the Lothering arc. Any bets about what big stuff is coming next? ;D

It took me a while to answer all your reviews, and I apologize for that. The past two weeks were really exhausting, and I wish to have a fresh brain to properly reply them :)

And thanks for your thoughts about chapter 31 and 33, Anon. I agreed- Sandal for the win :)