The Balance of Wings Chapter 27: Relinquishing Control, a dragon age fanfic

Chapter 27: Relinquishing Control

Bruna

In the old tales, journeys are never easy. The unforeseen crouches in the shadows of the woods, waiting to strike a blow and rend maps asunder. The heroes are always the ones who meet the unknown with a willingness to bend, to deviate from the planned path, warily accepting guidance with a careful eye discerning the trustworthy.

When I was a young girl, I had learned the tales from an elder woman of my clan along with herb lore and how to travel the pale paths of dreams. As I grew older and the tales coalesced into my sense of being, I learned to take the unspoken lessons to heart. Now, as an old woman, I was travelling a journey with a hero not of my choosing, but a necessary hero to save what I held dear. My world had been changing since I entered it, though they crept slowly upon us. Now the changes throttled us with the force of shooting stars and I vaguely attempted to hold on, but the old stories still rang true. In amidst the changes, things remained the same.

It became obvious we could not continue in the manner we had begun. We were robbed of one sword arm and had taken responsibility for a lyrium addled sister of the Chantry. The young king had difficult choices ahead of him and I questioned my ability to advise him. He respectfully looked to me for guidance in this land foreign to him, but unfortunately the land I had been born to was now foreign to me as well. Unseen hands moved against us and molded the land into something strange.

"We cannot continue to Cloughbark and collect Svenya and Rian while trying to care for Ser Grey and Sister Letha," the young man observed to me.

"You are quite right," I concurred, "We would be leading them into danger and hindering Mae's hope of escape. We do, however, have another option…"

We walked ahead of Ser Grey who escorted Letha, gently gripping her elbow in his free hand. She in turn helped to steady him, though she looked around her with worried eyes. King Alistair glanced back at them again to reassure himself that they were well before asking, "I would welcome any option you can offer."

"Though slightly out of our way to the Northeast, there is a winter hold of an Avvar clan. We could bring Ser Grey and Sister Letha there. I could arrange for the clan to care for them until they are stronger and then have a couple of the men escort them back to Herfirien. You and I could continue on from there, locate Mae and Ser Rian in Cloughbark and see to their safety." I suggested.

He looked troubled, "I do not like the idea of leaving Grey and Letha to the mercy of strangers."

"They are not strangers," I assured him, "not to me."

The questioning look he cast me as he waited for me to continue was framed with a furrowed brow. He trusted me, that I knew, but he was gravely serious in his responsibilities to those under his protection. Having Grey injured and being unable to prevent it had upset him, though he did understand that there was nothing he could have done to alter what had happened. Grey was equally driven to protect the Sister. At the same time, the king was worried for Mae and the Red Knight, concerned he would be unable to protect them from the cruel blows of fate while they lay beyond his realm of influence. His dreams haunted him and made him aware of how little control he truly had. Being forced to relinquish protection of one pair in the hopes of aiding another was a painful decision for any man, but it hung heavier on a king.

"The clan I speak of is the clan of my birth," I confided in hopes of providing reassurance, "they will aid us if I call upon the codes of hospitality we share and the duty they owe to their flesh, one who has sprung from their root."

He nodded, "I am troubled at the thought of leaving Ser Grey and Letha behind, but you are right. I cannot see any other alternative that will keep both them safe and enable us to meet our objective. The more we are delayed, the more likely Svenya and Rian will fall into treacherous hands. We will go to this winter hold and ask for the aid of your clan."

"Follow me closely," I led them on, "we are not far. We shall approach the hold before nightfall. From there, we can easily reach Arl Crewe's estate within a day or less. It will be well."

The memories of an old woman, however, may not take into account current realities. Before the gloaming fell, we entered the winter hold that I recalled from my youth, but it was no more. The huts were silent and bereft of the bustle of my kin. There were no welcoming fires. There was no bleating of animals penned in the winter paddocks. All was still and silent.

"Was it Templars?" Grey inquired, scanning what remained of the hold which had fallen into disrepair. Letha sidled closer to him, timidly eyeing the shadows.

"No," I shook my head mournfully, "it `twould be burned and only ashes would remain if the Templars had taken this place in hand. More like the clan was forced out or decided to nestle themselves further south towards Herfirien in order to avoid the raids."

"Perhaps they have merely not arrived yet for the winter," King Alistair offered.

The sigh wrung from me left me weary, "If this hold were still in use, the clan would be occupying it now and finishing their preparations for winter. These huts have not seen men for at least two winters, perhaps three. The roof is caving with rot on that hut yonder. It is too far gone to have been in recent use. The Avvars carefully see to such details so that the huts will last and not require vast repairs."

The young king placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder, sensing my sadness, "Would it be alright if we checked about for anything useful to us?"

"Aye, that would be fine," I allowed in a voice more brusque than I intended. Without a look or a nod, I walked away from my companions to examine what was once my home. My companions wisely allowed me to wander and did not call me back but set to work finding a hut that would serve for shelter during the night and collecting potential supplies from the discarded remnants of the previous occupants.

How foolish are an old woman's memories! I should have expected this, knowing the bend of the Cauldron's fate for the last five years. My people would neither have stayed, allowing the Templars to harvest or butcher them, nor would they have fought against a force that had superior weapons and tactics. These are a people not set in stone but ones who travel along the ways of the wind as it moves through the mountains. The mountains are home and not a single ice locked hold in winter. I shook myself free of my grief and returned to my companions, more composed.

The young king had commandeered a hut that was sturdy and the roof appeared to have few holes. A cheery fire had been built and Ser Grey sat in the doorway, resembling one of the sentinels that always stood outside of Arl Auber's estate. I assumed that Sister Letha was within, resting from the day's travel while King Alistair gathered some wood scattered around the hold, some of which was once rude pieces of furniture that had deteriorated in their abandoned state.

"It is not a bad camp," Ser Grey observed, "all things considered. It is easily defendable and we are less likely to be disturbed. The slope of the mountain wall and the trees conceal this place quite agreeably."

"Be careful, Ser Lion," I chided, reacquiring some of my usual humor, "one would think you were paying a complement."

He began to shrug, but the action caused his injured shoulder to twinge and he only managed to wince, grumbling, "This is preferable to sleeping on the ground in the open air is all I am saying. I am less likely to be mauled by any more wild animals here."

"True!" I agreed, sitting down to his right, leaning against the frame of the hut.

The old knight did not look at me, but continued to watch as the young king scavenged one of the other vacant huts, carefully considering each scrap within. He seemed to consider something before speaking again, "I caught pieces of your conversation with the king earlier today. You planned on leaving the Sister and me here with the people who lived here."

Seeing no benefit in lying, I admitted, "We thought it would be safer for both of you if you remained here and had someone escort you back to Herfirien. The king and I would travel on to Arl Crewe's estate in the morning and hopefully locate our two wayward heroes."

"I have become a liability." He rasped, but did not seem angry or sad. In his mind he was merely stating the situation as he saw it.

"You are no liability," I argued, "We would need someone to remain with Letha and see to her needs."

"Do not try to placate me with empty purposes," he growled, finally turning to face me, his eyes suddenly blazing, "I know that I am no use to the king in this state." He gestured to his arm, cradled in the sling.

"You may not be able to wield a sword, but you have value beyond the strength of your arm. Eventually your arm will heal." The answer sounded weak, but it still held truth.

He shook his head as if sullenly shaking a mane, "That means nothing now! I am reduced to standing like a scarecrow over a Sister so addled she knows not who she is or who I am."

"Your presence is necessary," I insisted, "and your king values you."

He sighed, his anger spent, "He listens to all. It does not mean that he values my words. My words are misspent and he has learned to disregard me."

It was my turn to shake my head, "He is young, yet, and is learning to find his way. The fact that he takes the time to listen and consider is comforting. Do not be so quick to dismiss him or yourself."

"I am so tired…" he whispered, "I am unsure if I will be able to return to Redcliffe."

I chuckled, "You have many years left to you, Ser Lion, mistake it not. You are not destined to be forgotten. There is more strength to you than even you suspect."

With that he sat down beside me, part of him relaxing now that he had given voice to his fear, "I cannot fault the decision. It would be an easier trek for you and him to leave us behind."

"We will continue on tomorrow. It will be well." I reassured him.

He looked at me again, "No. You will continue on with him and I will remain here with Sister Letha."

"That is not necessary," the insistence in my voice caused it to drop low, "we will go together and complete our objective."

He reached out and snatched my hand into his, causing me to turn and give him my entire attention. The eyes that looked me fully in the face were insistent, "What if we were to meet resistance? They could injure Letha or you and I would be able to protect you. If the young king has to divide his attention between the three of us in the interest of protecting us it could be a fatal distraction. He would never sacrifice any of us, even if it were necessary. If you go on with him you would be able to aid him, perhaps enable to avoid any unnecessary conflict that could put his life in jeopardy. It is no longer an issue of merely finding and protecting Lady Svenya or Ser Rian. Our king must return to Denerim alive or our country will be plunged into civil war. He only sees what is happening here in the Cauldron and he has forgotten the larger whole."

"Ser Grey," I reverted to his formal name, hoping to calm him, "I cannot speak to the needs of a whole country, but what will occur here will have a greater impact than I think any of us realize. The smaller concerns have a way of becoming larger as time passes. Once we believed the Templars were a small annoyance until they grew in power. Now they threaten the entire Cauldron. How long do you think it will be before they become a threat to the Chantry in Thedas or challenge the throne itself? Our king seems to appreciate the small, not realizing that it will be what shapes his reign. All things start small."

His brow became lined, reflecting his worry, but he released my hand and stared into the fire, "You may be right, but it changes nothing. Sister Letha and I will remain here. This place is remote enough that it will be easy to remain unseen and I should be able to defend us if it were necessary. When you and the king have collected Lady Svenya and Ser Rian, you can return to us and we will leave together. If the unthinkable happens and you are unable to return, I shall take Letha and try to find an outlying village. With only the two of us we should be able to get aid from strangers without drawing too much attention to ourselves."

We sputtered at each other, arguing the merits of our point of view back and forth as the sky continued to darken and the shadows cast by the flickering fire lengthened. The tone of the words varied from heated to weary, neither of us willing to acquiesce to the other's plans. Eventually silence reigned as we regarded the fire, refusing to look at one another, deeply troubled at heart. The young king found us like this, carrying an armload of kindling.

Dividing a few glances between the two of us, the king asked, "Who won the war?"

"I believe it was a draw," I admitted.

"She is impossible," grumbled Ser Lion, "I insist that you and Bruna continue on in the morning. Letha and I will be safe here until you return with Lady Svenya and Ser Rian."

"I have tried to reassure him that is unnecessary," I explained.

"I insist that it is," the sharp interruption from my counterpart prevented me from finishing.

The young king's eyes were troubled as he considered us both; unburdening himself of the firewood he crouched by the fire, rubbing his hands together to relieve his chilled fingers from the late autumn night. He opted not to speak, but held his silence, considering what had been spoken.

In that moment he seemed simultaneously so young and so old. We had heard some of the tales of our new king in Herfirien. We knew that he had been an active participant in defeating the Blight and in the final battle in Denerim. He had led men into battle and watched them die. He had reluctantly taken the reigns of the kingdom, diverting a civil war among the nobles. It could not have been easy for one so young, so inexperienced, but he had managed and maintained an obvious sense of humility.

He had been willing to leave Ser Grey and Sister Letha in the hands of capable individuals who could care for their injuries and convey them safely into the care of Arl Auber. To leave them behind in an abandoned hold while Ser Grey was injured in this manner was another thing entirely. It was not safe for them and King Alistair knew it.

When it appeared that he was about to speak, there was a sudden shriek from the hut, causing all of us to run within. Sister Letha thrashed in her sleep, crying out in terror from something apparent only in her dreams. I tried to approach and throw my arms around her to restrain and comfort her, but she threw me off and knocked me to the floor.

She leapt to her feet, eyes wide like a horse that is crazed with fright. With another shriek she bolted for the doorway past the two men, Ser Grey attempting to catch her by the sleeve, but there was an audible rip as she tore free from his grip. Her gracile limbs strained as she ran into the darkness, beyond the circle of light cast by the fire outside of the hut.

King Alistair barked over his shoulder, snatching up his sword as he pursued her into the darkness, "Ser Grey, see to Bruna. I will go fetch Letha before she can do injury to herself. Stay here!"

Ser Grey approached me and squatted next to me, assisting me with his good arm and steadying me. I had not been injured in my fall, but I was gravely worried for Letha. The lyrium poisoning apparently caused her dreams to be more vivid and made her feel as if she were being pursued. Running into the woods erratically was quite dangerous even if one were in their right mind. She could fall into a pit or trip over roots. She could come across predators.

As if sensing my thoughts, Ser Grey tried to reassure me, "The king will not return without her and he will not allow her to come to harm."

Unable to answer him for fear of betraying how deep my worry ran, I gently patted his hand. He led me to the fire again and helped me be seated, checking my limbs for possible bruises. When he found none, he stoked the fire again and offered me my battered teapot, wordlessly encouraging me to focus on something other than the helplessness we both had to face as we waited for King Alistair and Sister Letha to return to the safety of our camp.