Dragon Age: King in Exile

Part Twenty-Four

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King Cailan has written Alistair into the succession and is ready to recognize him publicly. Loghain will do almost anything to keep that from happening. The darkspawn give him the perfect opportunity. Alistair/Cousland, featuring F!Tabris.

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Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize from Dragon Age belongs to me.

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It had been days since they'd been stuck here at the camp they'd made, waiting and watching to see if Wynne would live or die.

Leliana was tending her now, spooning the smallest bits of broth between the mage's unnaturally still lips. She could hardly regain her strength like this, and they were losing hope.

Kallian was impatient and angry, spending more and more time demanding duels and practice from Sten and Zevran.

Morrigan was buried in yet another large, mysterious book, one that Kallian had brought back the day Wynne was hurt.

The others took turns at Wynne's side, pouring their grief and fear into care for the old woman.

Nothing changed, until the fourth day, when they all looked up from their activities to the loud sound of something solid slamming the ground. Morrigan was standing, looking determined. The book she'd been poring over was in the dirt. "This has gone on long enough," she said, and marched towards the main campfire, where Wynne lay.

"What, exactly, do you plan to do about it?" Zevran asked, who had stepped smoothly in her path.

Kallian, alert to the high emotions of the party, marched over from where she'd been sharpening a knife. "What's going on here?"

"I think we'd all like to know that," Alistair said. He, and a few of the others, seemed to have taken up defensive positions around their fallen companion.

"Morrigan?" Kallian asked, a brow raised.

The witch looked furious. "You all assume I mean to harm her." She scoffed. "Typical."

Her eyes met Kallian's. "I found a way to help Wynne." And through her anger shone a hint of triumph.

…

"Blood magic," Sten spat, and stalked off into the woods. Most of them felt no better. They'd all been banished away from the campfire, from Wynne's side, except for Kallian and Morrigan. Once blood magic had been mentioned, they were all nearly as doubtful as they had been before they knew her intentions. The field of blood magic had a bad reputation, and for good reason. Many had been unwittingly sacrificed to the ambitions of mages who were not content with the power they'd been born with. How could such a dark and dangerous power save their friend?

Leliana prayed. For Wynne, for Morrigan, and for forgiveness. Was Wynne's life the price for seeking out and killing a person who didn't attack first? Or would it be Morrigan's life, lost in an attempt to save one who had sacrificed so much for her? Would they all be condemned for their use of blood magic? For not stopping it? Or was it true that the Maker had left them, that he did not care what mortals did with the world He'd left them? Her head was spinning. And all she could do was watch and pray.

The tension suddenly rose as Morrigan began to chant. Kallian took a few steps back and crossed her arms, watching. Leliana's prayer caught in her throat.

Leliana heard a gasp when Morrigan pulled a dagger, and out of the corner of her eye noticed Alistair pulling Elissa slightly behind him. Did he fear Morrigan would turn abomination? The idea made Leliana feel sick.

Morrigan made a careful slice in her palm, deep enough that even Zevran seemed to wince. Her chanting became louder.

The blood pooling in her palm did not drip to the ground below her, instead it was drawn up in a steady stream, forming a glowing mass several feet above Morrigan's head. The mass grew, the glow brightened. The chanting grew more frantic. Time seemed to slow.

And suddenly the bright mass rushed downward and buried itself in Wynne's chest. Morrigan stopped her chanting, closing her fist around her still bleeding palm, and stared.

A moment passed, and then Wynne's small, steady breaths were replaced with a loud, shuddering gasp. Her eyes flew open. And almost as one, they all rushed towards her.

Leliana couldn't believe her eyes. Wynne was well.

To the side she noticed Morrigan stagger slightly, and she shifted her focus. Coming to the witch's side, she gently lifted Morrigan's injured hand.

"Here," Leliana said. "Let me bandage that for you."

Morrigan offered up her hand wordlessly. She seemed a bit unsteady, but Leliana left her just long enough to get the bandages and salve she needed.

"How much blood did that take from you?" Leliana asked as she wrapped the hand.

Morrigan took a steady breath. "Not more than I could spare." But Leliana could see that the experience had exhausted her, had taken more energy than Morrigan would rather anyone realize.

"I'm grateful for what you did," Leliana said, tying off the bandage. "You saved her life."

"Perhaps," Morrigan said. "But as she saved mine, I felt it appropriate. Even if she may not appreciate being saved by blood magic."

"Regardless of what Wynne feels, I am grateful. I won't forget this, Morrigan." Leliana gave her a solemn, earnest look before she gently released Morrigan's newly-bandaged hand and turned back towards their healing friend.

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As soon as Wynne was ready to travel, Kallian insisted on making the short trip to Ostagar. "You'll stay back at camp, of course," she told the mage.

Wynne was incensed. "I feel as well as I ever did, and I have as much right as you to go. I fought at Ostagar, just as you did!"

"It's not a field trip!" Kallian shouted. "If we didn't have to get that stupid Writ of Succession, I would never go back to that Maker-forsaken graveyard," she spat. "Prove to me you're in top form and maybe I'll consider it."

In truth, Kallian wasn't sure which of her mages was in better condition at this point, thanks to Morrigan's loss of blood in her ritual. They both needed time that the party just didn't have. They'd already wasted so many days while the darkspawn just kept going.

After their day of travel, she would see who was faring better. And if neither of them was in top form, well, she'd done without a mage before.

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The closer they got to the ruins of Ostagar, the more often they crossed paths with stray groups of darkspawn in the wilds. When they made camp for the evening, Sten was more determined than ever to find them a hidden, defensible campsite. They passed several sites that the others thought were fine before he was finally satisfied. There were a few complaints as the day grew long, but they all knew that Kallian wouldn't stop until Sten approved the site. The camp was low ground, a small valley between several hillocks and one large mount with a nearly sheer face shielding one side of the camp. Twilight was deepening before they began to pitch their tents, and the chill in the air had turned bitterly cold.

"I was starting to wonder if our tall friend was hoping some of us would freeze before he chose a campsite," Zevran said in an aside to Leliana as the two of them collected brush for the fire.

"The mages first, no doubt," she replied with a quick, small smile. "I don't see how Morrigan manages in this weather without putting on another layer."

"I am not complaining," Zevran said, nudging her. "And neither are you, I wager."

Leliana looked over to where Morrigan stood in the glow of her own small fire, and felt her cheeks warm a little. "No, she said. "Definitely not complaining."

The two of them shared a look and a little chuckle before heading back to add their contributions to the flames.

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"Wake up," a voice hissed. A dark shape was silhouetted in the dim light of the tent opening. "Darkspawn are prowling."

Alistair sat up, heart racing at the suddenness of it all. There was no time for armor. Elissa was already reaching for her bow, but he pulled her in for a quick kiss. "Be careful," he whispered to her.

He crept out of the tent after her, sword in hand, and looked around. Kallian, who had been on watch, was at Morrigan's tent. Most of the others were at the ready or coming out of their tents, looking ghostly in the moonlight with their combination of weapons and nightclothes.

Alistair heard the cracking of underbrush out to his left, but could see little that far from the firelight. Leliana and Elissa had their heads together, whispering behind their taut bowstrings. He heard another crack, further away, across the camp from him.

"They're surrounding the camp," Zevran whispered from beside him, and Alistair was grateful for the steep hill that prevented them from making a full circle. There was one side they would not have to defend.

Alistair nodded. "We need to gather, get closer to the fire." He started moving in, and ushering the others.

"Back to back," Sten rumbled in a low voice as they came together. "Ready yourselves."

Alistair felt as if the sounds of the forest were growing around them. How many darkspawn prowled in the darkness? The firelight was weak and flickering, causing their shadows to dance in front of them.

"Now?" He heard Morrigan's voice, an almost inaudible whisper.

"Now," said Kallian firmly, and the fire roared to life, light suddenly laying bare the slow rise of the ground around them and the gaps between the trees. Twisted faces stared back. Arrows flew. And the fight began.

It was easy to use the darkspawn's momentum against them as they raced down into the little valley, right into Alistair's sword. He edged forward, giving a bit of cover to his companions with bows and magic, despite his lack of armor.

When two came upon him at once, he bashed one with his shield, buying time to get an attack in on the other. With a fierce growl, Kitty leapt upon the stunned darkspawn and tore him to shreds. He turned his eyes to the next darkspawn and made his move.

In as little as one or two minutes, the battle was over. There had only been perhaps fifteen or twenty of them in total. Alistair panted and grimaced as he looked down at his ruined nightshirt. He was fortunate that little of the blood seemed to be his own. They had all gotten lucky tonight, it could have been much worse, fighting without armor.

Kallian was barking orders. "Get that fire down to a manageable level. Drag those corpses out of here, I don't want them in camp when they start stinking." She looked around. "Leliana."

"You need something?" the redhead asked, coming back from retrieving an arrow.

"You're on watch until morning. You can rest here tomorrow instead of going to Ostagar."

Leliana shrugged her agreement, and Kallian gave a firm nod. She looked around. "Right, unless anyone needs anything else, I'm going to bed!" She marched towards her tent without giving anyone much of a chance to speak up, and crawled inside despite her bloodied nightgown.

Elissa frowned in her direction and looked at Alistair. "Do you suppose grey wardens have some special resistance to darkspawn blood?"

He shrugged. "All I know is I'm not going back to bed like this."

"Definitely not sharing a bedroll with me in that thing!" Elissa agreed. "Let's get you cleaned up and back to bed, love."

"Excellent plan," he agreed cheerfully, and peeled off his nightshirt right then and there, leaving him in only his smallclothes. "Want to burn this for me?" He held out the offending garment and she took it between two fingers.

"My pleasure," she said, scrunching her nose as she went to toss it into the flames.

As it caught alight, they heard an indignant voice from Kallian's tent. "Hey, what did I say about that fire?"

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