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[DreGregoire]

*claps excitedly and waits in anticipations for the next release*

[Maria13]

Oh, well done, Maxernst...

I cover similar material in a similar way but from a different perspective in my latest chapter which I hope to publish by the end of the week...

Amazing how the DA game plot gives and gives...

[maxernst]

10.    THE COUNCIL CHAMBER: GATHERING THE ARMIES
 
Alistair spent the following day exploring Weisshaupt. His first impression had been that the fortress was self-sufficient and that Wardens would have little reason to leave, but on further inspection, that proved inaccurate. Basic foodstuffs and clothing were available, as well as armor and weapons, and there was ample open space for exercises and training. But while it might be true that a Warden would never need to leave the fortress, it was clear there were many reasons why one might want to go down to Weishaupt Dorf at the foot of the cliffs, or out into the countryside beyond.
 
The first reason was that it did not take long for the kastell to feel confining. As large as the fortress was, it was crowded with the hundreds of wardens who lived there, and the various tradesmen, merchants and servants who worked for them. The sense of taint all around him was overwhelming, an unsettling reminder of the Deep Roads. Aedan would have hated it here. And there were few places where one could find solitude, other than the privacy of one’s room.
 
Weisshaupt was also austere. With the singular exception of the Hall of Heroes, the plain exteriors of the buildings were mirrored by their unadorned interiors. Alistair had heard that the First was the de facto ruler of Anderfels, but if he exploited that position for profit, it must all have been used for weapons and fortifications. The austerity was not only visual. The market and the tavern had no jugglers, players or musicians. When Alistair asked the bartender at Der Grau Greifen about this, he had chuckled and said that the kastell was for fighting, and that for entertainment, there was the dorf.
 
It was to the dorf, he was told, that Wardens went for carousing, for wenching, for diversion. It sounded a bit like the camp followers that traveled with an army, except that it was a permanent encampment. He knew that back in Ferelden that many of the wardens went to a brothel in Amaranthine, but Ferelden’s wardens numbered a few dozen, not hundreds. 
 
Alistair decided that the nightly sport in the dorf was not for him, but he might venture down again during the day, to see Somerled, maybe go out into the countryside. He knew that much of the area to the north was blighted, far more lifeless and barren than even the wastes he had passed through to reach Weisshaupt, but there must be more hospitable lands somewhere in the Anderfels. Never satisfied are you? He chuckled to himself. A few days earlier he had been tired of being alone, and now he already felt he needed to get away from the crowds. Though one can still feel lonely in a crowd…
 
The following day he returned to the council chamber to resume his narrative. It was not long before he was interrupted. 
 
“Why did you go to Redcliffe first? I thought the idea was to use the treaties to gather the armies.” The First studied Alistair.
 
“After we learned that Teyrn Loghain had barred the Wardens from Ferelden, we knew we would need to gain the support of the banns. We did not to want to have our armies fight those of Ferelden instead of the Darkspawn. I suggested that we could gain the help of Arl Eamon who was widely respected.”
 
Scarlata scratched her head. “But I thought Commander Cousland’s brother was the Teyrn of Highever. Why not go there?”
 
Alistair realized that he had not told them the circumstances of Aedan’s recruitment. He summarized the events briefly. It struck him that while Aedan sometimes talked about his parents that he had never really described the night they died until that day at Sybille’s palace. “With Howe taking Highever, and so many of his father’s vassals lost at Ostagar, Aedan did not know who he could trust. There was a price on our heads.”
 
“It still astonishes me that Loghain would ban the Wardens in the middle of a Blight, and that anyone would go along with such foolishness,” commented the First.
 
Ricard turned to him. “Anshelm, you must remember that Ferelden has rarely been troubled by Darkspawn. And the Wardens have an unhappy history in Ferelden. They had taken arms against a king once and been kept out of Ferelden until Maric’s reign.” 
 
The First shook his head, but said no more and Alistair continued his tale.
 
He was soon stopped again, this time by Marschalc, the First’s lieutenant. “So you stayed to defend the town, rather than seeking help elsewhere, even after hearing that Eamon was deathly ill, perhaps even dead?”
 
“We didn’t know where else to go. And what better way to earn the help of the Guerin family than to defend the town. If Eamon’s family were dead, Teagan would be Arl so…”
 
“Wouldn’t it have been less risky and more efficient to simply kill the boy?” asked Halfdan.
 
“Well…the Circle Tower is close to Redcliffe, and we had planned to go there next anyway, so Aedan went there with Leli and Conal, leaving me and Morrigan to keep the abomination under control.
 
“Conal?” The elf’s brow furrowed.
 
“Aedan’s hound,” he explained.
 
“Fereldens and their dogs,” observed Ricard, rolling his eyes.
 
“So you weren’t with him when he restored the Circle? I must say it seemed a terrible risk to venture into a circle when the Templars had retreated in fear of their lives,” commented the First.
 
“I think Aedan deemed it a terrible risk to try facing the Darkspawn with only one mage.” Halfdan shrugged at that, while Aristomachus nodded his approval. 
 
“But what would you have done had he not returned?”
 
Alistair took a deep breath. “I suppose I would have had to kill Connor, and Morrigan and I would have tried to continue on our own.” He chuckled. “We probably would have forgotten the Archdemon and concentrated on murdering each other before long. It was…a great relief when he came back, and I knew I would not have to go on alone.”
 
He had only started to tell of their actions in Orzammar when Scarlata halted him. “Zevran Arainai? Formerly of the Crows?”
 
“Yes…you know him?”
 
A slow smile spread across her face. “You might say that.” Oh, Maker, another of his conquests, Alistair thought, as she continued. “I heard a rumor that placed him at Anora’s coronation, in the company of Commander Cousland. But how did he come to be in your company? Aedan surely did not find him at the Circle Tower.”
 
Realizing he had skipped another part of the story, Alistair backtracked to the ambush. Even with Aedan’s recent retelling, it was difficult to keep everything in sequence, particularly with the council constantly prodding him for details.
 
“An interesting choice, to bring a man along who had been hired to kill him,” observed the First.
 
“Yes. I was not in favor of it at the time myself. But Zevran proved himself a loyal and useful companion.”    Returning to the story of their time in Orzammar, he was just about to talk about their expedition to the Deep Roads, when he was forced to halt again.
 
“What made you choose to make Oghren a Grey Warden, rather than any of the other companions?” inquired Ricard.
 
Alistair blinked. “Oh, he became a Warden after the Blight was over. We had no way—we didn’t know how to perform a joining, and we had no Archdemon blood, so…”
 
“Ah, I should have realized that. I was wondering why you made only one Warden.”
 
He resumed his account and held their attention with his description of what they had encountered in the Deep Roads. The other Wardens seemed especially interested in the account of Hespith, though he knew that Aedan had already told them as much as they knew about the process that made Broodmothers. But when he came to the description how they destroyed the Anvil of the Void—
 
“You did WHAT?!” Halfdan rose to his feet and clenched his fists. Spittle sprayed his beard.
 
“It was an evil thing. Its own maker begged us to destroy it.”
 
“You have doomed my people.”
 
“No. We saved them—some of them, at least--from becoming eternal slaves!”
 
Now the First spoke. “Sometimes such…sacrifices are necessary. As a Warden, you should understand that.”
 
Alistair knew what he meant, but would not be swayed. The Joining was not the same. “Death is one thing. We all will die anyway, given time. But to be enslaved by anyone who holds a control rod forever—it’s worse than becoming an abomination!”
 
Ricard spoke quietly to the others, then. “Ferelden culture has a particular horror of slavery.”
 
Alistair glared at him, then addressed the dwarf. “And I don’t believe it’s necessary or that the dwarves are doomed. Golems aren’t that tough. A good dwarven warrior like Oghren can easily best a golem. So could Jarvia and Branka, and they weren’t even warrior caste! If the dwarves made full use of their manpower, they wouldn’t need golems.”
 
Halfdan flinched and lowered his eyes. Alistair had made his point. But the First persisted in questioning this decision.
 
“Be that as it may, the dwarves are not the Warden’s concern. But wouldn’t the golems have been a great asset against the Blight?”
 
Alistair shrugged. “Maybe. But if Branka had cared anything for the surface, she wouldn’t have trapped the only two Wardens in Ferelden. Once she got what she wanted, who knows if she’d have kept her bargain? She was mad.” He surveyed the faces before him and shook his head. Perhaps if they had been there and seen what they had seen they would understand. Aedan had made that choice, but it was one Alistair would never second guess.
 
When he finished his account of Orzammar, the First asked, “So then you went to the Dalish?”
 
Alistair shook his head. “Eamon had still not recovered, so we went to search for Brother Genitivi, and the Sacred Ashes.”
 
Anshelm tilted his head and frowned. “Did that not seem rather pointless? The Urn had been lost for centuries, if indeed it ever existed.”
 
He sighed. “Isolde…would not give up hope. And as long as his wife persisted in believing, Eamon remained Arl, and Bann Teagan would not supplant him at the Landsmeet.” He continued with his account of Haven and Genitivi, with few interruptions other than the First’s remark that ‘for once Aedan had chosen to eschew unnecessary risks’ upon hearing they had not disturbed the dragon.
 
When he was done, Ricard spoke. “So you still maintain that the Urn was really there? Genitivi’s story has been dismissed by most. No evidence was ever found.”
 
“I know what I saw,” Alistair growled. “I heard that the Temple had been destroyed, perhaps by the dragon, but that was years later.” He moved on and described their actions in the Brecilian forest. After the tension that had accompanied the account of Orzammar, it was a relief that no one contested their choices there. Perhaps they were too tired, for the shadows had grown long by then.
 
“Let us adjourn for today. This has been…informative. Cousland left much detail out of his account of how the armies were gathered. I had thought that some of the stories that had been told about him—like that of finding the Sacred Ashes and curing Arl Eamon—were simply legends growing up spontaneously about a heroic figure. But it seems that there were more…complications in gathering the armies than the original report mentioned. We will require your presence to continue the account in two days time, Alistair.”

Modifié par maxernst, 19 octobre 2011 - 06:44 .

[DreGregoire]

*giggles* Cool, I like how you are sharing some of the gathered peoples' views through their outbursts.

[maxernst]

Thanks. I'm glad you're still enjoying it. I wasn't sure how well I'd be able to carry off so many different speakers. Maybe I should be writing more of Alistair's reaction to each of them to emphasize their individual concerns?

And Maria, you're right about the way the plot gives--this whole tripartite epic follows from two details in the ending cards: the rumor of Morrigan being in Orlais and Alistair being called off to Weisshaupt.

[DreGregoire]

You could write more about Alistairs reactions during or you could just have him review stuff in his mind after the fact and share what he thinks then. Sometimes we don't process things as they are happening. Something that might have taken us by surprise in that moment, making it hard for us to react, might later send us into histerics. I look forward to reading more And sometimes much later down the road when we tell somebody about it we realize then that it angered us and we fly off the handle at the innocent bystander. haha

Modifié par DreGregoire, 20 octobre 2011 - 03:47 .

[maxernst]

11.    THE COUNCIL: ENDING THE BLIGHT
 
Alistair gradually became aware that he was no longer anonymous in Weisshaupt. The first time he realized this was when he was having dinner at Der Grau Greifen. He noticed a pair of well-dressed men of the Anderfels at a nearby table watching him. They were not Wardens; he judged them to be nobles of some sort. Because the First had great influence in Anderfels politics—even more than its King, or so it was said—it was not uncommon for nobles to come to Weisshaupt currying favor. Alistair would have paid them little heed had he not overheard the older of the two griping, “He’s the reason we’ve been waiting for days for an audience with the First. I don’t know what he’s here for but he’s tied up the whole bloody Warden council…” When they saw Alistair looking back over at them, they stopped talking and looked away sheepishly.
 
It had not occurred to him to think of the disruption his visit must have caused to others. But on reflection, he realized that he had spent much of three days in the council chamber, and he understood that the council met and discussed what was said when he was not there. Surely, the First was a busy man, and much other business must be going by the wayside for him to receive so much attention.  He hoped that they found it worthwhile. It seemed to him that, although they were receiving a more detailed account of the Fifth Blight than they had before, little of the new information was relevant to the matter at hand.
 
The only new piece of information that seemed to be of much consequence was that Aedan had never told them about Flemeth. He supposed that five years ago, Aedan must have sought to minimize Morrigan’s role, to hide anything that might suggest she had a different purpose in joining them than the others. But it appeared he had not mentioned her connection to the legendary Witch of the Wilds, even in his recent letter to the First. He wondered why. He supposed it was possible he had simply forgotten that he had not told the Wardens of Flemeth before, but the fact that the knowledge—and the desire—to trap the Old God’s soul had been hers to begin with seemed a significant omission.
 
Additonal evidence that his visit to Weisshaupt had made him a subject of local gossip came the following day. He had noticed some of the younger Wardens—not so much younger than him, in truth, but doubtless less experienced--watching him while he was doing his exercises in the courtyard before, and wondered if he had a different style of calisthenics. After all, he had been trained by the Templars in Ferelden; perhaps he was doing some exercise they had never seen and they were curious. But this time, they were talking amongst each other and heard his name whispered. Eventually, one of them, a young man named Dirske—goaded by his peers, no doubt—asked to spar with him with blunted training swords.
 
Dirske was no match for Alistair, of course. Even among Wardens, there were few who could really challenge him. He toyed with him, teased him with what appeared to be openings, only to block them at the last second with his shield. Alistair’s opponents expected him to be strong, but were always caught off guard by his quickness. The young man’s friends applauded his valiant, but hopeless effort to penetrate Alistair’s defenses. Afterward, he chatted with the others briefly about what it had been like during the Blight in Ferelden. 
 
Although other Wardens knew who he was, especially in Ferelden especially, but also in other posts he had visited elsewhere, he was not used to this sort of attention. He supposed it had to do with the fact that he had usually traveled with Aedan, whose celebrity so far outstripped his own. He yearned more for camaraderie more than deference, but the older Wardens in Weisshaupt who might have felt his equal had kept their distance, thus far. He supposed they suspected why he was here. He had hoped he would see more of Geizbart or Ricard—the only men he really knew in Weisshaupt—but the former had gone back on patrol and the latter stayed away.
 
Still, it had been good to do what he did best, and to be appreciated for it. Hearing Aedan recount the story of the blight for Leliana had filled him with pride and wonder at having been a part of it, but their accomplishments seemed to wither to dust when he recounted them for the Council. He understood their anger at how Aedan had cheated death, but was confounded by the criticism of his other choices.
 
The following morning, he returned to the Council hall and began by describing their actions in Denerim leading up to the Landsmeet. Since the council had seemed determined to examine every action they had undertaken, he provided every detail he could remember: the gangs they had dealt with for Sergeant Kylon, the mercenaries Aedan had persuaded to leave the Pearl, the trap set for Warden sympathizers, the demon in the orphanage. About all he left out was his disappointing encounter with his sister. By now, he expected interruptions and criticism, and was not surprised when Anshelm sighed and asked why Aedan had chosen to run so many trivial errands.
 
“Well, we were not pressed for time. We had to wait for all the Banns to arrive before the Landsmeet could begin. And we wanted to build up as much good will as possible for the Wardens, after all the lies Loghain had told.”
 
“Did people really believe the nonsense about the Wardens killing the King?” Marschalc asked.
 
“Most didn’t. But there were some that did.” He continued, ignoring Aristomachus’ irritated muttering as he described how they dealt with the slavers in the Alienage. Scarlata seemed intrigued by the situation at Howe’s estate, but Aedan had never been able to completely unravel Anora’s schemes there, and Alistair couldn’t be bothered to try. And as he expected, there was a lot of discussion of Aedan’s choices at the Landsmeet.
 
“Sad to see a great man like Loghain go down like that,” observed Ricard. “Pity you couldn’t have invoked the Rite of Conscription, but I guess you didn’t have Archdemon blood. If there had been more Wardens, I don’t suppose Aedan would have been susceptible to this Morrigan.”
 
Alistair bowed his head to hide his grimace and said nothing. Even now, he wasn’t sure he could control his temper on the subject of Loghain. Old emotions coursed through his blood at the idea of fighting alongside him
 
Marschal cleared his throat..   “So after all the work this Arl Eamon went through to call the Landsmeet and position you as Cailan’s heir, Aedan backed Loghain’s daughter for the throne.” 
 
The First rubbed his chin. “There might have been some advantage to having a Warden on the throne. And was Aedan not worried that she would turn against him, especially after he killed her father?”
 
Ricard turned to Anshelm. “I think given the Sophia Dryden situation in its history, the nobles might have seen it as a power grab by the Wardens. And there really was no one else to put forward.”
 
Alistair paused, taking care to formulate his response. “Anora recognized the need to fight the Blight. She wasn’t too happy about her Father, obviously, but she must have known that might happen when she supported us. Aedan thought he might need her to sway the Landsmeet, but…” He hesitated. He knew what needed to be said, felt disloyal saying it. “Aedan afraid of losing…me, if I became King. And he knew I didn’t want to be King. This way, we could stay together, as Wardens.”
 
Halfdan’s eyes bulged. “Are you saying that Aedan put his romantic interests above those of the country?”
 
“I—well, there were other concerns, but…”
 
The First shook his head. “What were you thinking, falling in love, under the circumstances?”
 
Scarlata gave a low chuckle. “I doubt thought had much to do with it. At least not the thoughts of the head on his shoulders.”
 
Alistair could feel the color rising in his cheeks. Not for the first time, he cursed his fair skin. “There’s no rule against Wardens having relationships. And we didn’t know…about how an Archdemon died…”
 
The First snorted. “There are few hard rules governing Wardens, as you well know. But it isn’t encouraged and under the circumstances, it seems unwise, to say the least.”
 
“Don’t they have ****houses in Ferelden?” asked Marschalc with an exasperated wave of his hand. “I realize a man has needs, but…”
 
****houses? Alistair glared at the man in disgust. “It was not about…scratching an itch. I couldn’t help it. Aedan had suffered so much and was trying so hard. It was—you weren’t there—you don’t know what it was like! We were alone against the Blight and Aedan was the only one who could understand, who was having the same dreams…”
 
“We all had those dreams,” remarked Aristomachus. “Every Warden in Thedas.”
 
Alistair struck the table in front of him. “But you weren’t alone! And you were safe, the Archdemon wasn’t hunting you in the dream, sending the darkspawn to ambush you in the night.”
 
“Are you really claiming the Archdemon found your encampment through your dreams?” asked Anshelm. “That can’t be possible.”
 
The elf closed his green eyes then opened them again, fixed his gaze on Alistair, then turned to the First. “I would not be so certain of that. He is not the first Warden to feel that the creature was seeking them. It might be an illusion, but the feeling is mentioned in several accounts.”
 
“Indeed? Adelheid, can you search the library for some of those accounts for me tomorrow? I’d like to review them.” The woman behind Alistair nodded and scribbled down a note. He then sighed. “Well, whatever Cousland’s motives, he placed Anora on the throne and she had more sense than her Father, fortunately. So then what?”
 
The exchange gave Alistair time to calm himself, though he could not completely shake the sense of loathing he felt for the smaller man with the moustache. To suggest that what he had shared with Aedan could have been obtained at a brothel….brushing his anger away, he summarized the preparations that were made and the march to Redcliffe to gather the armies.
 
“And it was there that this ritual was performed?” inquired the Tevinter mage.
 
“So I’m told. I wasn’t, you know, present for it. I can’t really tell you how it was done.”
 
The tall Antivan woman had other questions. “But you told us that Morrigan wanted you to kill her mother. Why did she still wish to carry out Flemeth’s plan?”
 
He shook his head. “I can’t explain what Morrigan wanted. I don’t think Aedan knows, either . He thinks she’s hoping the girl’s power can protect her, help her stop whatever Flemeth’s planning but that’s just an idea. Maybe she doesn’t know herself.”
 
Aristomachus whistled through his teeth. “If we could only get hold of this Flemeth somehow…”
 
Alistair couldn’t suppress a snicker. “Flemeth? Oh, right. She won’t be found unless she can use the Wardens for something.” 
 
Once they were satisfied he had told them everything he could about Morrigan, Flemeth, and the ritual, he described their march to Denerim. There were few interruptions until he described Riordan’s death. “I suppose after he fell, you must have been relieved that Aedan had made his damned child, so neither of you would have to sacrifice himself.” It was the loathsome little man on the First’s right again.
 
Alistair shook his head. “I didn’t know. When Riordan failed…I expected to die that night. I was ready.”
 
The First narrowed his blue eyes.  “You really claim he didn’t tell you? But surely you must have talked about how you would finish the demon?”
 
“No. He said nothing. And I thought…well, I was the older one, and had been a Warden longer. I just assumed it would be me. I thought he just found it too painful to ask me to…die.”
 
“But when the time came, it was Aedan, not you who slew the beast.”
 
“Yes.” He described the battle of Denerim, and how they had fought there way to the top of Fort Drakon. “When it collapsed, pierced by dozens of arrows, and we could see it was dying, I turned to Aedan. I wanted to…say goodbye, tell him I loved him…but he was already off and running and I could not get there in time. When the thing died and the light flashed, I fell to my knees and wept. Ask anyone who was there on the roof that night. I thought Aedan was gone. I had no idea.”
 
“But weren’t there still Darkspawn to fight?” asked the dwarf.
 
He shrugged. “Yes. But they were disoriented and confused. And I didn’t care much, just then. And then, I felt Aedan’s hand on my shoulder and I looked up and—it was like a miracle had happened.”
 
Halfdan continued, “But I still don’t understand. If he was so afraid to die, why didn’t he just let you do it? Was he so determined to play the hero and live to be feted for it?”
 
This view of Aedan struck Alistair as so wrongheaded that he almost laughed. Aedan found little joy in being the Hero of Ferelden. “No. I think he just killed it himself because if Morrigan’s plan didn’t work, he didn’t want to live without me.”
 
“Ugh…by the stone!”
 
“So this too was for love,” Marschalc’s voice dripped with contempt. “And are we supposed to believe that your life is worth the risk of bringing an Old God back into the world?” Marschalc glared at Alistair.
 
“I know I’m not worth it. You don’t have to tell me that.” He bowed his head. “But Aedan…” Even if I’ve damned Thedas to destruction, it was worth it for these precious years with you, Aedan had said. “I was all he had left.”   
 
“But didn’t you wonder how he could be alive?” asked the First.
 
“I—I guess I didn’t want to ask too many questions. He told me Morrigan had saved him and…I was just so happy to see him.” It was strange that something that had delighted him should now fill him with sorrow and shame.
 
Anshelm sighed. “I’ve often thought we needed to do more to discourage relationships between Wardens. This proves that it’s necessary.”
 
Scarlata looked at the First and wrinkled her nose. “Even if you declared a formal policy, enforcing it would be…distasteful, don’t you think?”
 
The elf remarked, “Though it may have been…problematic in this case, do you think it’s wise to place further burdens on Wardens? These were highly unusual circumstances.”
 
“Well…I suppose any change in policy is business for a separate council, not the issue at hand. I think we’ve heard enough for today. We’ll return in two days time to hear your account of your recent activities in Orlais, Alistair.”

[DreGregoire]

*rubs her hands together in glee* Beautiful I tell you! The best written section to date. I look forward to more.

[maxernst]

Thanks. I'll try and get the next chapter out this week.

[maxernst]

12.    DER GRAU GREIFEN: A SYMPATHETIC EAR
 
With a heavy heart, Alistair left his room and crossed the main plaza toward Der Grau Greifen. He needed a drink. He knew he should probably have something to eat as well, but he had no appetite. He had expected the Council’s reaction to Aedan’s decision, but the derision that had been poured upon him for their relationship had caught him by surprise. They had never hidden their love, and it had not occurred to him that other Wardens might disapprove.
 
Lost in thought and with his eyes staring at the ground in front of him, he collided with a slight woman crossing his path, nearly knocking her off her feet. Hastening to apologize for not looking where he was going, he met the wide-set amber eyes of Adelheid, the archivist.
 
“Alistair, it is nothing. I can well understand you being…preoccupied after today’s council. Are you going to the tavern?” He nodded. “You look like you could use a drink, and perhaps some company. If you would like to talk, I could meet you there in a little while…?”
 
He hesitated, unsure whether his mood was too sour for company but he knew so few people in Weisshaupt. It would be good to have someone to talk to. “I’d like that.”
 
He went into the tavern and was greeted by the bartender, who brought a flagon of ale to his table, along with two tankards. It was not long before Adelheid arrived, smiling as she sat down. “It’s refreshing to see you without all that plate mail on,” she commented. “I couldn’t help wondering why you come to the council each day dressed for battle.”
 
He laughed and undid the buttons on his tunic, revealing the chain mail shirt underneath. “I’m still not completely unprotected. I know it’s odd, but I feel more comfortable in armor; it’s unsettling to be without it.”
 
“Especially when facing hostility…I thought they were very hard on you, today. And unfair.”
 
He shook his head. “It was very hard. But they’re right. None of this would have happened if we hadn’t fallen in love.”   He took a long swallow of ale, closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them again. “Aedan even said as much. It was…a mistake.”
 
She frowned. “I think that the Council has forgotten what it is to be young. I am as old as they but I…have not forgotten. And you can’t control how other people feel about you.”
 
“But I could have discouraged him.”
 
She shrugged. “Perhaps. But maybe without your love…Alistair, do you know the story of the Sacred Band of Carastes?”
 
He scratched his head. “It sounds like something I should have learned in the Chantry, but no.”
 
“This was long before the Chantry, even before the Imperium, when Tevinter was a land occupied by many warring city states. Carastes was, for a time, the preeminent power among them, and the sacred band were the elite forces that protected the Magister who ruled the city. He had decreed that the sacred band would be made up of 150 pairs of lovers who would fight side by side All men, because in those days women did not fight in Tevinter, well, unless they were mages. For forty years they were the most feared elite troops in the land.”
 
“What happened to them?”
 
“Eventually, the city was surrounded by Minrathous, and they were greatly outnumbered and overwhelmed. But the Sacred Band fought to the last man in an effort to protect the city. I am told there is still a monument to them in Carastes with three hundred names engraved on it.”
 
His brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand,”
 
“The point is that love can be a strength, as well as a weakness.”
 
“But if they all died…?”
 
“But they fought to the end, because they loved. It’s hard to fight for Thedas, or for a country—it’s too big to get your head around. People fight for what they know, for their homes, for their families, their friends, their loved ones. Aedan took Morrigan’s bargain because of your love, but maybe if he hadn’t loved, he would have failed long before. You faced death many times that year. When you were locked in the most desperate battles to survive, was it thoughts of Ferelden or the Grey Wardens that gave you the strength to hold on, or did you fight for Aedan and your other companions?”
 
“You may be right.” He lapsed into silence for a while, pondering whether this might be true. The bartender brought bowls of stew and bread to their table. After a time, he said, “But it hurt to be criticized by the head of my Order. When I was recruited, I was so happy that I could do something. I wanted to be the best Warden I could be…”
 
“We are men and women before we are Wardens, Alistair.”
 
“I was nobody before I was a Warden.” Nobody except evidence of a King’s indiscretion, something to be hidden away.” He wondered why he was telling this strange woman so much. Was it because he was draining the flagon of ale so quickly, or just his need to talk to someone? “I never thought there could be a conflict between being a good Warden and loving Aedan, following Aedan.”
 
She narrowed her eyes, studying him as she sipped from her tankard. “You couldn’t have been nobody or you wouldn’t have been chosen. You were special.”
 
“I didn’t feel special. I was amazed when I was chosen. I mean, I knew I could fight, but…well, maybe that’s all it was. Skill.”
 
“You don’t really think that you got through the Blight on fighting ability alone.”
 
“I don’t?” He smiled “ Morrigan kept telling me I wasn’t very bright.”
 
She snorted. “Skill only gets you so far…courage, determination…even those combined with skill wouldn’t be enough. And was not seeking the Arl’s help your idea? As critical as some of the members of the Council have been, can you not see them measuring themselves against you, wondering if they could have done what you did?”
 
“Do you think so? It seems like all the First sees is how Wardens shouldn’t fall in love with each other.” He took another long swig of ale.
 
She sighed. “The First is…well, I doubt anything will come of his idea. And even if he set such a policy, I doubt it would be enforced beyond Weisshaupt. Each Warden commander has a great deal of autonomy. How do you think Aedan would respond if he received such a directive?”
 
He laughed. “But surely not all Commanders are like Aedan. He’s never…well…”
 
“You might be surprised. The men who rise to command in the Wardens tend not to like being told what to do. Besides, if they start limiting the love lives of Wardens, where will it end? The aristocracy in the Anderfels would be most displeased if they could no longer marry into the Wardens.”
 
He blinked. “Really? Wardens marry here? But they can’t have children…or at least it’s rare.”
 
“True…but not every noble family can get a child recruited, and the families are lured to power as moths to a flame. Because the Wardens have clout here, there are…political marriages. Just as daughters are packed off to the Chantry in the hopes they will become revered mothers or even Grand Clerics.”
 
He had never thought about how the political influence of the Wardens in the Anderfels might affect the lives of Wardens. They talked a little more about that as they finished their stew and nearly emptied the flagon of ale. 
 
When she rose to her feet—a little unsteadily—he took her hand and thanked her for listening to him. “I don’t know many people here and—you were right—I needed to talk to someone…”
 
She smiled.  “Alistair, it was an honor to write your story for the archives and to talk to you. I’ll see you in a couple of days, but if you want to talk again, I usually close up the library around sundown."  She touched his hand and walked away.

Modifié par maxernst, 10 novembre 2011 - 01:50 .

[Maria13]

Well whatever happens to Alistair at least he's going to get a good write up!

No seriously, love this stuff, love that Alistair finds sympathy among women without having to betray his sexuality. Love how you've fused Thedas/Earth history...

Another argument for Warden loving... Their lives are short... There has to be something to keep 'em going and, at the end of the day, who can better understand a Warden than another Warden?

Modifié par Maria13, 10 novembre 2011 - 09:32 .

[maxernst]

I'm glad you liked my Sacred Band reference, even if it would probably annoy canon purists.

[maxernst]

13.    THE COUNCIL: MORRIGAN’S DAUGHTER
 
The first leaned back and folded his arms against his chest. “Before we hear Alistair’s account of what happened recently in Orlais, I would like to review how he came to be summoned here, as I realize not all of you were in Weisshaupt when the decision was made.
 
Last summer, Commander de Chambrais reported that many of the Wardens in Orlais had begun having odd dreams, dreams that reminded them of the dreams they had had during the Blight, and which featured a little girl prominently. Because he distrusted Commander Cousland’s account of Urthemiel’s passing—with good reason, as we now know—he speculated that there might be a connection between the girl in the dreams and the Blight. At his request, we summoned Alistair here. De Chambrais thought that we might have a better chance of getting the truth from Alistair than from Commander Cousland.
 
Subsequently, we received a rather confusing series of messages from Ferelden and Orlais. First came a letter from Amaranthine stating that Alistair had left Amaranthine and was on his way. Then came a message from Coteaux du Roches that both he and Cousland were in Orlais and were planning to come together. Then we received a note from Commander Cousland that included new information about the Fifth Blight and a rather unlikely account of his activities in Orlais, and said that he was not coming, but that Alistair had left Val Royeaux. Finally, Yves sent us a letter indicating that the dreams had stopped, and that the Ferelden Commander had enjoined one of his Wardens to secretly investigate the dreams.”
 
An unlikely account? Alistair wondered if Aedan were still trying to hide the truth, or whether the First deemed the truth improbable. 
 
Anshelm continued, “So we would like you to begin by explaining why Cousland was in Orlais at all.”
 
Alistair told them that he had set out from Ferelden alone, while Aedan was away on a recruiting drive. Aedan had come after him because he did not want Alistair heading to Weisshaupt without knowing…what had really happened. He did not describe the somewhat embarrassing details of his capture and rescue. If Yves had not bothered to mention it, he wouldn’t either.
 
“So you still didn’t know how he had cheated death? What did you plan to tell us?” Scarlata raised an eyebrow.
 
Alistair shrugged. “I…would have told you that Morrigan had done…something…to save him, I guess.”
 
Aristomachus had a different question. “So Aedan didn’t come to Orlais to look for Morrigan originally?”
 
“No. We didn’t even know Morrigan was in Orlais until a chance remark by a friend of ours in Val Royeaux. She vanished after we killed the Archedemon. I think,” he sighed, “that Aedan was hoping that nothing would come of the child. In retrospect, we both had some…odd dreams that year…but nothing like we experienced in Orlais.
 
Other than Ricard, no one on the council had dreamed of Aife, so Alistair spent some time describing how the dreams had felt, both his own, Aedan’s, and those accounts gathered by Enrique.
 
“So Aedan realized immediately that he was dreaming of his daughter?”
 
“Not at first, but after Yves mentioned that Wardens were having odd dreams, and he had a second one, he realized that it must be his daughter. Once you know, the resemblance is obvious.”
 
“Why did he not tell Commander de Chambrais that right away?”
 
Alistair snorted. “Because he can’t stand him. The last thing Aedan wanted to do was admit that Yves had been right all along. And he said that he was sure Yves would want to kill her, and feared it would result in a bloodbath.”
 
The First nodded. “Killing her does seem like a logical solution. Why did Aedan oppose it?”
 
“I’d have thought he’d be happy to have someone else die in his stead to remove his mistake,” said Marschalc. “Assuming a Warden would die killing her, of course.” He glanced over at Menashe, who shrugged.
 
Alistair shook his head. “No, that’s not. I mean, Aedan didn’t want to die but he just didn’t want to kill a child, his child, without knowing…what she was. He did say that if she were tainted, or some sort of monster, that he would kill her himself.”
 
Halfdan pulled at his beard. “So you did discuss it? And you…agreed with his decision?”
 
“I told him I would do it, but he said…he said no, that he needed me to fend off Morrigan’s magic. And when it looked like it was going to be hard to find Morrigan, I thought we should just come here and let other Wardens know, not make this decision alone. But Aedan wouldn’t do that, so…”
 
“And you just do whatever Commander Cousland tells you,” observed Marschalc.
 
“Yes, I do,” he admitted, taking a deep breath and lowering his eyes. I did. “I trusted his judgment—after everything we’d been through, everything he’d done…”
 
 
Ricard commented, “In Alistair’s defense, it must be noted that Aedan Cousland is a very persuasive man. If you haven’t met him—and I don’t think any of the rest of you have—“ he glanced around the room for confirmation that he was correct, “it’s easy to underestimate what he is.”
 
Alistair told them how they had gone to find Morrigan, omitting the details of how Aedan had bargained for her whereabouts. As expected, he fielded many questions about the girl.
 
“You say that you sensed the girl, but you’re sure she’s not tainted. I don’t quite know how you would sense her? What did you feel, exactly?” asked Anshelm.
 
“Not the taint, something else, like an awareness of a glow or a warmth. It’s hard to describe…it’s not like a Warden or a Darkspawn. I guess it was a little like the Archdemon but—well, I guess none of you know what it’s like near the Archdemon—but that was darker. It was…I don’t know how to describe it…soothing…to be near her?”
 
The elf tilted hi shead back in thought, then said, “It makes sense that the Joining attunes us to the old God, in some sense. That must be why we were drawn into her dreams, and she into ours.”
 
“But can we know that she won’t become tainted? What if the Darkspawn find her?” asked Halfdan.
 
“Morrigan says she won’t, that it can’t happen.” He sighed. “She says that the Chantry has what happened to make the Darkspawn all wrong.”
 
“And did she enlighten you as to the correct story?” inquired Scarlata.
 
He snorted. “Morrigan? Yeah, right. I did ask her if she was so sure, why she wouldn’t come to Weisshaupt with us and explain why the girl couldn’t be tainted. I knew she wouldn’t.” He sighed.
 
Aristomachus pointed out that the old Gods were said to speak to people in their dreams and compel their obedience. “Did you ever feel the girl was influencing you during the dream?”
 
Alistair shook her head. “Not in the dreams, but…in person, in a way. I guess. She made me feel—relaxed. Happy. When we shared a meal with Ellaire and Aife, it was like a family dinner, even though we didn’t know them.”
 
Anshelm turned to the Tevinter mage. “Do you think she can control us?”
 
Aristomachus’ gaze flickered to Alistair than back to the first. “Not yet by the sound of it, at least not consciously. In time?” he shrugged. “I suppose Avernus is too fragile to travel. It would be helpful to have his opinion on this as he knows more about the taint than anyone else. Perhaps one of us should go to Ferelden and seek his counsel.”
 
The First nodded, then indicated for Alistair continue his tale.
 
Avernus, Alistair thought to himself. I always wondered why Aedan let him live, after everything he had done, even with the promise that he wouldn’t subject people to his experiments any more. I suppose he hoped for a cure for the progression of the taint.
 
When he finished his description of how Morrigan and Aife had left Thedas through a mirror, Marschalc spoke up, “Do you really expect us to believe that she went to another world through a magic mirror? I read that in Aedan’s letter and thought—he’s still working with this woman, covering for her. This ‘beyond the fade’ business is way too convenient.”
 
Alistair glared at him. “Do you think I’m lying to you?”
 
“Well, how do you know she’s left Thedas?”
 
“I—well, I guess I don’t really know where she went, but the dreams stopped in Orlais. Have they started up anywhere else?”
 
“Maybe she told the girl to stop doing it.”
 
“Marschalc, no, I think Alistair is telling the truth.” Menashe held up his hand. “Please, Alistair, can you describe this mirror? Tell me everything you remember.”
 
He did his best to recall the type of stone, the runes carved into it. As he did so, he could see Menashe and Aristomachus nodding to each other.
 
The elf turned to the First. “It’s an Eluvian. It has to be.”
 
Anshelm rubbed his forehead. “I thought they were for communication, not travel.”
 
Aristomachus explained, “That’s what the Tevinter magisters used them for. But it was said that in Arlathan, the elves could travel from one city to another. I’d never have imagined they could go to other worlds, but,” he lifted a hand in a gesture of uncertainty.
 
“Yet that only deepens the mystery,” observed Menashe. “How could Morrigan possibly know how to use an Eluvian with more expertise than the great Magisters of old could manage after decades of study?”
 
“I suppose Flemeth must have explained their usage, or it was in that book of hers,” suggested Alistair.
 
The elf shook his head. “That’s not good enough. You said Flemeth was—what—a few hundred years old? That knowledge was lost many centuries before. Unless the legend isn’t the true beginning of Flemeth,” he frowned.
 
The First turned to him. “Perhaps you should go to Ferelden and see if you can learn anything more about this Flemeth from the Circle Library, or maybe from your people. You could inform Avernus of what’s going on, and see if he has any insights, as well.”
 
Menashe nodded. 
 
The dwarf said to Alistair, “I don’t understand how you could just let them get away. Knowing the danger she could represent.”
 
Alistair winced. “I—I know, but,” he sighed. “She’s a little girl. And—I really don’t think I could have raised a hand against her. The feeling when she’s near…it’s hard to describe!”
 
“She’s a weapon not a little girl. And a weapon in the hands of a woman you don’t trust.”
 
Scarlata raised an eyebrow, “A weapon she may be, but the mother must be quite sure she won’t be tainted, since it’s hard to see how she would benefit from a blight. And if there is no blight, is this really our problem? If Morrigan wants to use the girl to make herself,” she gave a casual wave of her hand, “Queen of Nevarra, is that the Warden’s affair?”
 
A grim nod from the First. “Yes. If the Chantry figures out what she is, they will expect us to deal with it. And be furious that it was allowed to happen.
 
Menashe raised an eyebrow, “Since when do we take orders from the Chantry?”
 
“They know they need us, but—except here in the Anderfels—the Wardens are far too few to resist the Templar armies. If the Divine wanted the Orlesian Wardens under his thumb, de Chambrais would have little choice but to submit. No, we must deal with this.”
 
“Alistair, your group had some experience with Litany of Adralla at the Circle Tower. Do you think it would work against her?” asked Aristomachus.
 
“I don’t know. Ellaire said that what Aife does was not like blood magic, but we didn’t try it, so I…don’t know.”
 
“Well,” observed the First. “I don’t suppose it matters for any of us, since if this Morrigan is to be believed, she will be gone for many years. All we can do is try to guess what she is, what she can do, what her mother’s intentions might be, and prepare the next generation to deal with the threat as best they can..” He fixed Alistair with a cold blue stare. “You and your Aedan have placed her beyond our grasp.”
 
“It may not be so,” breathed Aristomachus. Everyone stared at him.
 
Menashe looked perplexed. “Even if we were to find another Eluvian, and somehow learn to use it, we wouldn’t know where to look for her.”


 “It may not be so. Blood calls to blood. There might be a way to reach her through the Fade, through the father.”
 
The elf’s green eyes widened. “I…had not thought of that. Do you really think it would work?”
 
“I don’t know. I think I’ve read of something similar, but not to find someone in another world. Adelheid, I will be visiting the Archives tomorrow. We need to look for some very old Tevinter codices.”
 
“It sounds as if this is worth investigating, Aristomachus. I have just one last question for Alistair before we adjourn. Why did Commander Cousland change his mind about coming here?”
 
“He felt that since he was—finally—giving you the truth about what happened, that the letter would be enough. He wanted to go home, and I think he feared…judgment. But I had said I would come, and I keep my word.” He was not lying, he told himself. Aedan had not wanted to go to Weisshaupt. But he would have, to stay with me, if I had let him. But the First didn’t need to know that. Some things were private.
 
I think Alistair is finished his story and we may go for today. I would like to see you for further instructions in my office in two days time after mid-day meal, Alistair. The rest of us will meet again tomorrow, but I think out path is clear from here.”

[B-Dancer-M]

Wow really great story! I never read slash but this one has really pulled me in. Thanx

[maxernst]

Thanks. Glad to hear you're enjoying.

[maxernst]

14.  THE FIRST'S OFFICE:  AN EXTENDED STAY

“You may come in now,” said the First. Alistair opened the door to his office. As he entered, Anshelm gestured for him to sit down in a chair, on the opposite side of a large, plain oak desk. Through an open window behind the First, he could see a courtyard, with young Wardens practicing their combat skills.
 
Alistair was surprised to find that Aristomachus was also in the office, standing by the bookcase beside the First’s desk. He nodded in greeting.
 
“I must thank you again for coming and for your candor, Alistair,” began the First. “I know that this has been—difficult—for you, but it was essential that we learn as much as possible about what transpired during the Fifth Blight. While your story corroborated Commander Cousland’s letter, you provided us with many important details that he left out, whether by design or by accident.”
 
“I…felt it was my duty to the Order to fully inform you.” He frowned. “”We should have done this…a long time ago.”
 
The first held up his hand and sighed. “I agree but there is no point in recriminations now. What matters is how we move forward. When you first arrived, you agreed that if there was still something that could be done to prevent Urthemiel from blighting Thedas again, you would assist us.”
 
“Yes…” he replied, wondering what the First had in mind. He glanced over at the Aristomachus.
 
“You may recall that Aristomachus had an idea that there might be a way to reach the girl. Alas, he was unable to find what he needed in our library and must go to Minrathous to complete his research and test its application. We ask that you remain in Weisshaupt until he returns.”
 
“I see. Does that mean it will be my task to…kill Aife?” He closed his eyes, thinking of the child, her dark eyes and Aedan’s smile. To kill Aedan’s daughter…he could understand why it might be necessary, but could he do it?
 
“No. To bring a non-mage into the fade is far too difficult.” He looked to the Tevinter mage, who nodded in confirmation.
 
“So…you hope to reach Aife through the Fade? What can you do in the fade?”
 
Aristomachus spoke up. “Killing an ordinary mage in his own fade dream can sever their connection to the fade, depriving them of power and rendering them tranquil. Though we don’t know the nature of an old god, we hope that it might neutralize her power. Even if that fails, it may be possible to use the fade to ascertain into what realm she has been taken…though we would still need to find a way to enter it.”
 
Anshelm turned his head toward the mage. “Could we not find another Eluvian?”
 
“Perhaps, but even the great Magisters of old never fully unlocked their secrets. Unless…Alistair, that girl that was living with Morrigan—might Morrigan have taught her the Eluvian’s use?”
 
“I doubt it. Knowing Morrigan, she wouldn’t have taught Ellaire anything unless it was useful to her. Unless she’d need to be able to enter it to know how to destroy it.”
 
“Unlikely.” 
 
“Still,” observed the First, “it might be worth having Ricard find the girl and question her. She might no something more that would help. You said you left her with a mage in Val Royeaux?”
 
“Yes, a man named Odouart.” He hoped that he was not bringing Ellaire trouble. “I hope you won’t be…hard on her, she’s just a girl. And I think she told us everything she could about Aife. But if I’m not to go into the Fade, why do you need me to stay here?” It was not that he was anxious to return to Ferelden, but he saw nothing for him to do in Weisshaupt. He had hoped to be inspired by the Grey Warden’s chief fortress, but he felt as lost and alone here as he had when he left Val Royeaux.
 
“We will need Cousland’s cooperation for this plan, and so…we will need you to persuade him. He does not trust us.”
 
“I see.” He wondered if he were a hostage. He glanced to Aristomachus, “In the council you said ‘blood calls to blood’. Is this like the phylactery magic that is used to find escaped Circle Mages?”
 
“Somewhat.”
 
“How long will you be away?”
 
“Weeks. Possibly several months.”
 
“Months? What will I do here for months?” He turned back to Anshelm.
 
“Oh, I’m sure we can find something for a warden of your skills. I’ll not risk you on patrols, but I’m sure Marschalc can find a use for you in training the men. Most of our instructors have never fought an Ogre or an Emissary, let alone the more powerful and exotic types that you faced in Ferelden. The Maker willing, they never will, but it’s best to know what to expect.”
 
“Very well.” He enjoyed teaching combat skills, though he was not looking forward to working under Marschalc. 
 
“Good. You may go now. Oh, and you received another letter from Ferelden.” He opened a drawer, pulled out a sealed letter, and passed it across the deak.”
 
Alistair thanked him for the letter and left his office. He pondered going back to his room to open the letter, and decided it could wait.    Instead, he went to look for the Weisshaupt Library and Adelheid.
 
 
 
 
 
 

[DreGregoire]

*gives you frowning eyebrows* Who is this letter from? *sighs* Good addition and I'm thinking the whole Alistair is a "guest" thing isn't going to go over too well with certain parties. . hehe, I look forward to your next release.

Modifié par DreGregoire, 06 décembre 2011 - 01:48 .

[maxernst]

Glad to hear I'm holding your interest, though I have to confess it didn't occur to me until you asked that more than one person in Ferelden might want to write to Alistair!

[maxernst]

DER GRAU GREIFEN: A QUIET DINNER
 
Most of the library’s collection was stored in a tower adjoining the original part of the keep. No doubt it had originally been a watchtower, but it now faced onto an interior courtyard, negating its use for defensive purposes. A wooden spiral staircase ascended to the top of the tower, and the walls on every floor were lined by shelves packed with books. Alistair could see that there were at least six floors above him. Adelheid sat at a large desk in the center of the ground floor. She smiled in greeting as he emerged from the adjacent scriptorium into the tower.
 
“Hello, Alistair. It’s a pleasure to see you.”
 
“Hello. It’s nice to see you as well.” He lowered his voice so as not to disturb those working in the scriptorium. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner again. You said…if I wanted to talk…of course, if you’re busy…”
 
“My social calendar is not so full as you might imagine.” She smoothed the fur on the black cat seated in her lap. “I would be happy to have dinner with you tonight. I suppose you’ll be going back to Ferelden soon, so there may not be another opportunity.”
 
He shook his head. “No, the First has asked me to stay until Aristomachus returns from Minrathous.”
 
“Ah,” her head tilted back. “Yes, he was pestering me all day and half the night yesterday. Poking into the darkest corners of the library in search of works I knew he wouldn’t find.”
 
“How could you be sure? Have you read all of these?” His eyes tracked upward, floor upon floor crammed with books. It was the largest collection he had ever seen, even surpassing the Circle library in Ferelden.
 
She laughed. The motion stirred the cat and it gave a questioning “Mrrow?”, turning its golden gaze on Alistair. She patted it on the head.. “No, that would be the work of several lifetimes. But I have opened most of them to confirm that the contents are correctly listed in my files. And he was looking for manuscripts from the old Imperium. We have few works that predate the foundation of the Wardens.” She glanced at his hand. “What are you carrying?”
 
“It’s a letter from Aedan.” 
 
Her eyebrows arched slightly. He supposed she was surprised that he had not opened it, but she said nothing. “I should stay here until everyone has finished their work, in case they need assistance, but I will be happy to meet you at Der Grau Greifen shortly after sundown.”
 
She was already waiting for him when he entered the inn’s common room that evening. She had let her dark hair down and changed into a saffron robe, not a color that would be flattering on most, but which accentuated her unusual eyes. After they settled into their table and the innkeeper had brought a flagon of ale, she studied him for a moment before commenting, “Being a warden means a lot to you.”
 
“Yes. Is that so surprising?”
 
She tilted her head back and forth. “I suppose I should understand better than most.”
 
“Why?”
 
“Well, as you know, a lot of Wardens don’t join up by choice, even here, where it is an honor. With so many wardens in Weisshaupt, our short lives and the fact that many fail to survive the Joining can hardly be hidden. Yet some who would never have chosen this life are pushed into it by families seeking prestige. I joined freely. It was a way out of a life I did not want, just as it seems to have been for you.”
 
“You were…in a Circle?” He had assumed she was a mage from the start. She appeared too delicate to fight darkspawn without magic.
 
She nodded. “At the time a chance of a short free life, an exciting life, seemed better than being locked up forever. A romantic position, perhaps, but an easy one to take at nineteen.” She smiled. “And with all my dreams of adventure, I wound up in the Weisshaupt library. But I proved better at organization than at fighting Darkspawn so…” she shrugged, “here I am.”
 
“Would you rather have stayed in the Circle?”
 
 “No, but I lost more than I realized in leaving.” She took a long sip of her ale. “All my friends, the only home I knew. And being able to see my family proved a mixed blessing.” She frowned and looked away.
 
“They didn’t want you back? Because you’re a mage. I know people can be afraid…”
 
“That wasn’t it. They were delighted to have a Warden in the family. But they were strangers to me…I was taken away by the Templars when I was a child. And. I felt—used—sorry, I shouldn’t have brought this up. I don’t want to talk about them.” She finished her cup of ale, poured another from the flagon.
 
Alistair watched her in silence, thinking that he would have done anything to have had a family to return to. But he should know that family was not always a blessing, after his meeting with Goldanna. And Cailan for that matter And now…Aedan had made him part of his family and he had left. The Wardens were all he had. He sighed and poured himself another cup of ale while the innkeeper came to the table with a loaf of bread, bowls of bean soup and legs of mutton.
 
 
 
As he began to eat he asked, “It doesn’t bother you that I’m a Templar? You knew that, right? I mean, that I was trained as one and have their abilities. Obviously I’m not a Templar now. I never took vows, but still—“
 
“No, it doesn’t bother me. You’re hardly the only Warden with Templar training, you know.”
 
“But a lot of mages…well, you weren’t happy in the Circle. You didn’t resent the Templars?”
 
“Oh, I did. Very much. Perhaps even more than they deserved. But,” she shrugged, “that was a long time ago and they hold no power over me.” Her eyes left his face and she turned to look at something behind him.
 
He turned around and saw Scarlata and Menashe approaching their table. “Ah, you’re here,” said the Antivan woman. “Good. I’m glad I will have a chance to see you before I leave.”
 
“You’re going back to Antiva?”
 
“Yes. But it was good to meet you, to see the man…one of the men…behind the story. I know that it cannot have been pleasant for you. All of us bitter old Wardens picking away at your every triumph.” Her mouth twisted slightly. 
 
Menashe spoke then, smoothing his hair behind his pointed ears. “Unpleasant, but necessary. Not all of us felt the need for immediate action, though. We might have waited, learned more, but…the majority of the Council prevailed.” His lips tightened. “I cannot imagine that Aristomachus will succeed, but the First grasped at the slightest chance.”
 
“I’ve known Anshelm a long time,” said Scarlata. “I think it burns him still that he was unable to do anything during the Blight, that Ferelden’s fate was out of his hands. And he feels the Calling coming upon him, and does not want to leave a mess for his successor to clean up.”
 
Menashe nodded to her, then turned to Alistair. “I will be leaving for Ferelden tomorrow and will likely stop in Amaranthine. Is there any message you would like to pass on to Commander Cousland?”
 
Alistair supposed that Menashe would tell Aedan of the Council, and he didn’t know what he wanted to say, beyond that. Or rather there were too many things to say, contradictory things, conflicting things…he shook his head.
 
“No? I suppose he knows everything that can be said.” He smiled. “Well, may Mythal protect you on your path, brother Alistair.”
 
When Scarlata and Menashe had left the table, he found Adelheid staring at him. She opened her mouth, then closed it. After a pause, she said, “Alistair, I know that I have not known you for very long, so I understand if you don’t want to explain but…I have to ask: What happened in Val Royeaux?”
 
“What do you mean? You were there when I told the First and the others…”
 
She shook her head. “Something else happened that you didn’t talk about. Something between you and Aedan. I noticed the way you hesitated when the First asked why Aedan had not come with you, the way you said you ‘trusted’ his judgment. The past tense. And now you’re in no hurry to read his letters and have no message you want to send. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, but don’t expect me to believe that nothing has changed between you.”
 
“Was it really so obvious?” He glanced toward Menashe and Scarlata. “They didn’t ask for more.”
 
A dismissive wave of the hand. “Not to them, I suppose. Anshelm and the rest weren’t thinking about you. But even though I have only seen Aedan through your words, I felt sure that he would not have wanted you to face the Council alone.”
 
 He hesitated. “I learned a few things that…bothered me. But the main thing is what Aedan did to find Morrigan.” He told her of Leliana and Sybille, their secret meetings with Enrique, and how Aedan had betrayed Leliana’s friends at Le Cheval Blanc. “I just couldn’t believe that he would break his word to one of our dearest friends. And even after he did it,” he shook his head, “we could have saved them. We could have gone to the inn and warned them, at least. But Aedan didn’t tell me what he had done. And he lied to me! That morning when he asked after Leliana and Sybille, it seemed like he was worried about something but he said it was nothing. He told me he had ‘persuaded’ Celene to tell him where Morrigan was, not bartered away our friend’s secrets.” 
 
“Did you really think the Empress would give away information for nothing? That is…not her reputation.”
 
“Aedan’s very persuasive. And I never thought he would lie to me. I mean, I knew that he lied sometimes but I always thought it was…to accomplish something good. And now I don’t know what to think. Decisions I thought he made with the good of Ferelden in mind seem like they were for selfish reasons. And,” he winced, “Marschalc was right. I always just did what he told me. I thought I could trust him and now…I just don’t know what to think of him. I’m not sure who he is anymore.”
 
“I see. I’m sorry,” They sat in silence for a while and ate. “I guess I understand why you’re not in any great hurry to go home, then. Thank you for telling me. I know that it can’t have been easy.”
 
“I think I needed to tell someone. I feel so…lost.” He rubbed at his forehead. “Now I guess…well, that’s why being a Warden is so important. It’s all I have left.”
 
She watched him for a while, then said. “Alistair, it’s never all we are. To be only a Grey Warden would be a cold thing indeed, and you’re not a cold man.”
 

[DreGregoire]

*sniffles* Aww some people are so nice. Alistair got to hear what he needed to hear. Pffft! Aedan doesn't deserve him! *snifflegiggle*

[maxernst]

16. WEISSHAUPT: THE SECOND LETTER
 
After leaving Der Grau Greifen and returning to his room, Alistair lit a candle, broke the seal on the letter and sat down at the desk to read:
 
Alistair,
 
My dearest love,
 
I know that there has been no time for you to respond to my previous letter. Perhaps both my letters arrived in Weisshuapt before you. But I felt the need to write again. It makes me feel a little closer to you to know that you will be reading my words.
 
I am back at Vigil’s Keep now. Voldrik has finally pronounced all of the repairs finished. I think he’s as much a perfectionist in his own way as Wade. I know that the damage from the siege was great, but I never thought it would take five years to repair. But it has at last been pronounced done, and all of the Wardens have returned there. I suspect some would have preferred to stay closer to Amaranthine for its entertainments, but we do have much more spacious quarters here, and are better protected, of course.
 
I spent some time in Highever before returning. I couldn’t face telling Fergus that you had left me. I suppose I’ve already failed in my intention to be more honorable. Not only have I not told Meghann and Nathaniel about your departure, I outright lied to Fergus, saying that I went to Orlais to brief you on what you needed to know for Weisshaupt. I guess I’m still in denial, and have almost convinced myself that it isn’t a lie. When I think on what we have had, what we have shared, I can’t quite believe that you would cast it aside. I remember that when I called after you, you gave no answer when I asked if you would come back, so I pray that you may still return. Perhaps I have simply added myself to the list of people I’ve deceived, but I don’t know how else to avoid despair. I nearly wept when little Bryce—he’s grown so—asked after Al’ster.
 
I miss you so much. I am having such a hard time concentrating on the business at hand at Vigil’s Keep that I’ve left much of the responsibility to running the keep to Nathaniel. He and Meghann must suspect something is wrong, but I’m not really close to anyone else here.
 
I wait and hope for your safe return to Ferelden. Please give me another chance.
 
With all my love, forever yours
 
Aedan 
 
Alistair sighed. It would be so easy to give in, to say yes, to forgive, to go home. There was a part of him that longed to hold him and comfort him, to say he still loved him, as Aedan had done for him countless times. He had no wish to cause Aedan pain. But forgiveness was not enough. He needed to know that he could trust him again, as he once had, that Aedan would not deceive him, that they would truly face the challenges that came together. When Aedan had spoken those words, he thought maybe he would at last be Aedan’s partner, not his follower.  What do you want to hear? That I prefer to follow? I do, he had said to Morrigan once. It was easier to follow, but if you could not trust your leader…
 
 And he didn’t know how to trust again, couldn’t trust himself to recognize Aedan’s falsehood. Perhaps he should have been suspicious, wondered what he have given the Empress in return for knowledge, just as he should have wondered how Morrigan had saved him, but he had wanted to believe…and it had always been easy to believe him. Too easy.
 
He should probably write something in reply, but had no idea how to begin. He was skilled with a sword, not so much with a pen. He set the letter aside and blew out the candle.
 
As lonely and lost as he felt in Weisshaupt, and as much as he still missed Aedan, it was best that he was staying for a while. It would give him time to sort out his feelings. Adelheid had said that he was more than a Warden, but he didn’t know what more he could be now. Who else was he? He had renounced his bastard royalty and fled his lover. And maybe he needed to be colder. His passion had blinded him to Aedan’s duplicity, and his emotions were easily seen by anyone. Not that he wanted to deceive others, but he knew his transparency left him open to manipulation. His emotions could be played on even from a thousand leagues away, with a simple letter. Aedan would have known how much it meant to him that Fergus treated him as family, would have calculated how hard those lines would strike. Maybe it was better to be cold.
 

[maxernst]

17. THE ANDERFELS: A SHORT EXCURSION
 
The following day Alistair reported to Marschalc and was assigned duties training new recruits. His impression of the man was hardly positive, but it proved unimportant. The First’s lieutenant did not often linger around the training grounds, and he was left largely to his own devices.
 
Training young Wardens was a familiar role for Alistair, and he was good at it. It had been his only major area of responsibility at Amaranthine, the one place where Aedan had given him free rein. Aedan himself was too impatient to be a good teacher, and his intimidating reputation worked against him in that role.
 
It was satisfying to have something productive to do, to take his mind off Aedan. The new recruits were a little in awe of him, having heard of his role during the Blight, but his self-deprecating humor soon helped them relax. And his years as an instructor had taught him that relaxation was critical, for it was difficult to learn if you were always tense, fearing to make a mistake. Besides, many Wardens joined up under difficult circumstances, and could use a little levity. He suspected the other instructors thought him frivolous, but he decided not to care. He had resolved to be harder, colder, and would not concern himself with seeking their approval.
 
Why should he need it? He had watched them and sparred against them and he would not fear to cross swords with any of them. The few who could match him technically and had even a tenth of his experience in battle were past their best. Unlike the younger wardens, they knew that the Archdemon had not been felled in the proper manner. He assumed that was why many of them were cool to him, but he was determined not to let their disapproval faze him. They had never faced the Archdemon, as he had.
 
It was several weeks before he realized the real source of their resentment. One of the other instructors brought him up short by asking him about his tactics against ogre emissaries. Never having encountered one, he had no advice to give, and inquired—quite seriously—as to how they had handled them. An emissary with the toughness of an ogre, enhanced by defensive spells would be a formidable opponent indeed, he thought.
 
Only later did he understand they had been putting him on, hoping he would boast of his feats in slaying a nonexistent form of Darkspawn. They had wanted to believe that he exaggerated his accomplishments. It was not so much his surviving the Blight that irked them, it was the way the recruits’ eyes shone when he spoke of his experiences, and the way he had shrugged and said he had lost count after Ostagar when asked how many Darkspawn he had slain. “After I ran out of fingers and toes to count on, I couldn’t continue,” he had joked. He had not intended to brag, but the recruits always wanted to hear stories of battle, and his outshone those of even the most experienced veterans in Weisshaupt.
 
There was little he could do about it, he decided. He would prefer not to talk about the Blight because it was impossible not to think of Aedan, but it was inevitable that he would be asked about it. It was better when he could just focus on teaching shield maneuvers.
 
And so the days passed and summer faded. Early in Harvestmere, Adelheid asked him if he would like to go on a short excursion, while the weather was still pleasant. Eager to get out of his routine, he assented and asked what she had in mind.
 
“I was thinking we could hike up Warden’s Watch. It’s only about a day’s journey from here. We could be back in three days,” she had told him.
 
Two days later he had gathered up his camping gear and met her at the inn in the Dorf. His horse, Sommerled seemed pleased to see him when they arrived. Since Adelheid was on foot and it was too much to ask the horse to carry both of them and all their gear, he elected to walk beside her.
 
It occurred to him that he had never seen her in bright sunlight before. She looked a little older, as the faint lines on her face were brought out more by daylight than the softer light of torches. But she also looked tougher: lean, tanned, and strong despite her small stature.
 
“Are you sure that you wish to be so burdened with armor?” she asked, raising a dark eyebrow. He had worn his full helmet and mail.
 
“Well…doesn’t Warden’s Watch look over the waste? We need to be prepared for Darkspawn attacks and I can’t defend myself with magic.
 
She sighed. “I suppose…I just thought you might be more comfortable. It’s a steep climb.”
 
“I’m used to it,” he insisted. “I walked all over Ferelden in this suit of armor.”
 
“Even the helmet?”
 
He chuckled. “If I take it off, I’ll soon be so red Sommerled may bite me, mistaking my head for a beet.” The sun was much stronger in the Anderfels than in Ferelden; the skies were often cloudless, and there was little shade.
 
They set out along a trail that followed the stream that flowed out of the Hunterhorn Mountains. The valley bottom was filled with irrigated fields of rye and wheat, which were being brought to harvest. The surrounding slopes looked too barren to support much of anything to Alistair’s eyes, yet he could see that people raised sheep and goats on the meager forage.
 
After mid-day, their path led away from the stream, so they gathered as much water as they could before continuing. There would be no more sources of water on the trail beyond. They climbed out of the valley onto a vast brown plateau covered with sagebrush and scattered shrubs. Warden’s Watch loomed straight ahead, a spire of dark grey rock, similar to the one on which Wesshaupt stood, but higher. They camped in its long shadow that evening. They would have to leave Sommerled tied up near the base of the Watch, because she had warned him that the footing would be too dangerous for a horse, in places.
 
The following day they began their ascent. When he had viewed the Watch from afar, he had wondered how they could climb it without rope, but a steep, narrow path that wound around the precipice had been hewn out of the rock. He soon found himself struggling to keep up with Adelheid on the climb. Determined that he should be able to keep pace with a woman ten years his senior, he panted after her, his heart pounding. 
 
“Alistair, if you need to rest, please stop me,”
 
Sheepishly, he admitted that he did. “I guess I didn’t want to look…weak.”
 
She shook her head. “The gear you’re dragging up the hill with you must weigh nigh as much as I do. And you’re not used to the Anderfels, yet.”
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“People from other places always find they tire easily here, until they have lived here for a few years.” She shrugged. “Something about the air in the highlands.”
 
He had noticed that fatigue set in earlier than expected when he was sparring, but he had attributed it to the time he had rested in Orlais, thinking he must have lost some of his fitness.
 
“Besides,” she added, “I do spend my days walking up and down stairs at the library.” 
 
When he had recovered his breath, they pushed onward. As they climbed around the flank, she pointed out the sheer face of the Merdaine cliff in the distance to the northwest, and the enormous figure of Andraste that had been carved into it. They stood for a while looking at it. After a time, he asked, “Do you believe?”
 
“Hmm…I believe that Andraste was a great leader who brought down an evil empire. And I suppose that—something—needed to be done about mages, though I’m not sure that what we have is what she had in mind. Magic may not rule over mankind now, but with most mages locked away, I’m not sure it really serves mankind, either.” She gave him a wry smile. “As to the rest—of course I was steeped in the Chantry’s dogma in the Circle, but as an archivist, I’ve read too many different accounts of the world to know what to believe. The Dalish, the Qunari, the Chasind…they all have different stories of how things came to be. I feel as if…something had to create our world, I suppose.”
 
“So you don’t think that we go to the Maker’s side when we die? I’ve wondered about that, and whether the taint…it’s a poison of the soul as well as the body…whether it…?”
 
“We know the soul passes through the Fade after death, through the Second Veil. But what lies beyond is unknown. And I cannot answer for Wardens. I read one scholar that claimed that the spirits of the Fade are the souls of those who cannot.—or will not--make the last journey. He also claimed that Andraste’s ‘Maker’ was a powerful spirit of the Fade.” She sighed. “What about you? Do you believe what you were taught as a Templar?”
 
He shook his head. “I thought I had rejected all of it…but then, after what we saw in Haven. Maybe there’s something to it. But what Leliana believes…believed--I don’t know if she still does after what happened—that the Maker meant for it to happen the way it did, I don’t know. The Chantry says He’s turned away from us.”
 
“Well, it is one way to explain the mess we have to deal with,” she chuckled. After a last glance at Andraste’s figure, her torch held high to light the way for mankind, they resumed their climb.
 
It was past mid-day when they reached the top, where the ruins of a stone tower stood. They surveyed the plateau to the north and west, gripping what was left of the tower steps to steady themselves against the wind. Alistair had never seen a land so bare, nothing but rock and windblown sand. Not so much as a patch of sagebrush disturbed the grey, lifeless expanse. “This is the blighted land?” She nodded. “Not even the most ruined parts of southern Ferelden are like…this.” He squinted into the distance, “But what are those?” he asked, gesturing toward a field littered with.some large objects he couldn’t quite make out.
 
“Bodies. A battlefield.”
 
“A battlefield? But I had not heard of any recent battles here, certainly nothing of a scale…?”
 
“It was centuries ago…the bodies are still there.” He shivered, not because of the wind. 
 
“I thought you should see this. It seems to me that since you’ve come here, you’ve thought so much of what you and Aedan didn’t do, that you’ve forgotten what you did. This could have been your home.”
 
He tried to imagine the familiar landscapes around Redcliffe and Amaranthine devoid of life, failed. “I know, but what if Morrigan’s wrong and the Blight starts again somewhere else when she returns?” He sighed. “When I was in the Hall of Heroes, I could not help thinking what it would be like to be memorialized like that, to leave such a mark on the world. Ordinary people leave at least their children behind as a legacy…”
 
She turned to face him, “Your legacy is a whole country, Alistair. Can you really think you will not be remembered? As to Morrigan’s child, well…at least we know what she is, and can prepare.” She turned away again and spoke into the wind. “If she had come to you, what would you have done?”
 
He snorted. “She wouldn’t have come to me. She knew I didn’t trust her.” His mind rebelled at even imagining what it would have been like to make love to her. “And if she had…I’d have thought she was lying, trying to get a Thierin heir for some reason.”
 
“Did Aedan trust her?”
 
Did he? “I asked him that, when he told me. He was…evasive, saying that she did not believe she would cause a Blight. But I don’t know if Aedan trusted anybody completely.” Even me. “Maybe it was what happened to his parents.” Or maybe knowing his own capacity for treachery…
 
She continued to prod him, “But if you had somehow been convinced there would be no Blight…say the offer had been made by Wynne instead of Morrigan…?”
 
He started to laugh when he tried to imagine Wynne making such an offer. But he knew what she was driving at, and tried to answer. “It’s not…I mean, I understand why Aedan did it. Maybe I would have even done the same in his place, had I known he would insist on slaying it himself, but…surely it’s wrong to love one person so much.” He lowered his eyes. “And he should have told me what he had done and told me…other things.”
 
“He should have told you,” she agreed. “Especially since it must have been terrible for you when he took down the Archdemon. But maybe he was…ashamed. And did you never ask, after the fact?”
 
“I could have, but I trusted him. And now…” he shook his head.   “Do you think we could find a sheltered place to eat before going down? 
 
On the way down, he pondered what she had said at the summit. He had trusted Aedan so much that he had not pressed him to learn what he had really done to slay the Archdemon, or what he was doing for Celene. He had known Aedan kept secrets from him. Surely it was wrong to love one person so much? He had asked Adelheid. Was it also wrong to trust one person so much? 
 
Although it had been warm enough during the day, even exposed to the wind as they had been near the top, it was cold that night. He could see why she had said that it would soon be too late in the year for this trek. As he lay alone in his tent, he thought how pleasant it would be to lie beside someone else, wondered if she would have welcomed him, had he suggested it.

Modifié par maxernst, 24 février 2012 - 04:31 .

[maxernst]

18. WEISSHAUPT: AN OVERTURE

After returning to Weisshaupt, Alistair began to think more seriously about pursuing more in his relationship with Adelheid. He knew that she liked him, and understood him, and he enjoyed spending time with her. And after his experience with Genevieve at Le Renard Rouge, though it had not been fully satisfying, he knew that he could function with a woman, at least…not that he would insist on moving so fast. He wondered whether the fact that she was a fellow Warden would make it feel more comfortable. Or more like being with Aedan? He brushed that thought away.

Yet as the days passed, he saw Adelheid often and he made no move. Surely, this should be easier than it had been with Aedan, he thought. I was young, inexperienced and a bastard, then, and he was a nobleman. Oh, in theory, his nobility ended when he joined the Wardens but still…yet Alistair had found the courage to approach him. Why should he hesitate now?

He thought about it over his mid-day meal at the Grau Greifen. The problem was that approaching her was a very different prospect. He had known Aedan desired him. What had held him back then was not fear of rejection, but uncertainty about his own feelings. He was far from sure that she was interested in him as a man. But maybe she just hadn’t considered it because he was younger than her, or because she might think him uninterested in women.

As he chewed on a leg of mutton and pondered this, he became aware of a dark-eyed man he had never seen before staring at him. Actually, glowering would be a better description. His thin lips were pressed in a scowl above a dark beard streaked with grey. What was the man’s problem? Were his table manners so disgusting? Alistair crossed his arms and glared back, thinking the man would surely stop, but he persisted. He finally looked away, but his fists were clenched on his table. It seemed he was not a man having a bad day who happened to be looking at him; Alistair was his bad day.

He could not imagine why. If this were Ferelden, a personal grudge would not have surprised him. He and Aedan had made their share of enemies during the Blight. The man must know he was a Warden—his shield lay propped on the chair beside him—but could he hate all Wardens so much? And if he did, what was he doing in Weisshaupt? A lot of Wardens Alistair knew would not hesitate to challenge the man, and such was the reputation of the Grey Wardens that only the most foolhardy would invite such a challenge. He was armored and bore a sword, but did he really want to provoke a Warden? And if he knew who Alistair was, to pick a fight was more foolish still. What was this man thinking? He didn’t think it was possible the man knew enough to despise him for surviving the Archdemon. Alistair did not think he was a Warden at all, though there was so much taint in Weisshaupt that it was difficult to be sure about individuals.

Well, he needed to finish his meal and get out to the training field. He was not the sort of man to kill over a dirty look. Still, the mystery of the man’s scowl continued to trouble him as he worked with Dirske and the other recruits.

Afterward, he went through his calisthenics, and thought about Adelheid. She had no man in her life, so far as he could tell. Yet she seemed content…maybe she didn’t want one. But surely no one wanted to be alone? Unless he asked her, he could never be sure. He decided that he would approach Adelheid that night. She had invited him over to supper at her house; it would be an ideal opportunity. Before going there, he washed himself and put on the fancy clothes Sybille had given him. He decided that, for once, he would not wear armor or even bring his shield. He even considered even leaving his sword behind, but the outfit came with a matching sheath so he did not.

She greeted him at her door with a smile, while her cat hid under a chair and watched him suspiciously. “Minka is used to seeing you at the library, but this is his territory, I’m afraid. He’ll get used to your presence.”

She filled a cup with what he assumed was wine, but when he swirled the golden liquid in the cup and sniffed it, as he had learned to do at Sybille’s, the scent was…odd. It reminded him of the pine forests in the Frostback Mountains, not wine.

Seeing his expression, she laughed. “Ah, you’ve never had Tevinter wine before. We don’t grow grapes here in the Anderfels and Orlesian wine often spoils on the way here. The Tevinter wines keep better, something about the casks they’re stored in, but they are a little different in taste and scent, I understand. Try it.”

He took a cautious sip. The flavor was certainly not like any wine he had tasted, but it was not unpleasant, and seemed to go well with the meal she had prepared, chicken in a tangy, spicy red sauce, made from a sort of soured milk and red pepper. As they ate, he asked her, “You seem to understand me—what it’s been like for me--so well. Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” she said, without hesitating. “Back when I was in the Circle. We planned to become Wardens together but…it didn’t work out that way.” She looked away.

His eyes widened. “Oh. The…Joining?”

She shook her head. “Nothing so dramatic. He just wasn’t chosen. And he didn’t understand that some commitments can’t be unmade. We exchanged letters for a while, but I don’t think he ever forgave me. I saw him a few years later, when we were recruiting at the Circle again, but…he didn’t want to speak to me. So I guess I have some experience with what it is to leave someone you love.”

“I’m sorry…and since then there’s been no one…?”

She chuckled. “I’ve not become a Chantry sister…but no one I loved, no.” She took a long swallow of her wine.

He finished his meal and got up to put another log on the fire. He still found it odd that the nights were so cold here, and mid-winter was still some time away. He had not expected it to be cold so far north.

As he sat back down, she said, “One of the few things I remember from being a little girl, before I was taken away to the Circle, was the servants making this dish. It’s a typical of the Lattenfluss Valley, north of Hossberg.. I’m glad I was able to…share it with you before you return to Ferelden.”

Servants? He wondered. She had never mentioned that she came from that sort of background. Though when he thought of it, he recalled that her family had been delighted when she became a Warden and that she had felt used. For political purposes, he supposed.

He decided this was as good an opening as he was going to have. He took a deep breath. “I was thinking that…maybe I won’t back to Ferelden.” An arch of her eyebrows. “I mean…I guess if the First sends me back for this idea of Aristomachus, but I could come back. There’s nothing for me in Ferelden now and I thought maybe I could stay here…with you…?” Her head jerked back, slightly. She’s going to say no. “I know that I haven’t known you very long but you…I think I’d miss you when I go back to Ferelden. I’ve come to care for you and I thought…maybe you…?”

“Alistair, I’m sorry. I never thought that you were thinking of us that way. Surely you can see…” she shook her head. “I mean, for one thing I’m too—“

“I know you’re older than me.” He was ready for this argument. “But what does it matter? It’s not like we would have…children.” That was why men preferred younger women, wasn’t it, at least in part? “You’re still beautiful and wise and…I don’t care what anybody would say.”

“Alistair, it’s more than twenty years since my Joining. I don’t have much time left. You can’t want to link your fate to mine. And besides, you’re not free. You love another.”

“You mean my love for strong hard cheeses?” She didn’t laugh. “You mean…no, not after what he did.”

“Alistair you don’t shrug off love like a worn-out tunic. You’re angry at him, but how often have you thought of him today?”

“You think I should back to him,” he accused her.

With a hint of asperity, “No one else can tell you that. But if we became lovers, you’d be measuring me against Aedan…and I cannot fill his boots for you..” She reached forward and touched his hand. “I know you’re lonely. I thought I could be friend but don’t ask me for more.”

“And…there’s something else you should know, that I should have told you…”

He pulled his hand away and rose from his chair. “I don’t think I need to hear anything else” This hurt more than he thought it would. He had known this might happen, why was it so painful? He had thought that if she turned him down, he would just turn it into a joke, but he didn’t feel like doing so.

“Alistair, please. Sit down. Don’t leave. I do care about you. I just don’t think…”

He moved to the door. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have—dinner was lovely, thank you but I—need to be alone.”

[maxernst]

19. WEISSHAUPT: SWORDS IN THE DARK
 
Alistair wrapped his fur-lined cloak about him and began to make his way home. Her had not walked far from Adelheid’s house when he heard the crunching of snow underfoot in an alleyway joining the street. He turned to look down the alley and was startled to see the glint of metal in the moonlight: an armored man was approaching him with his sword drawn. Alistair leaped backward to give himself time to draw his own sword from his sheath. 
 
The glow from the violet sparks that danced along the Keening Blade gave him a little more light by which to see his assailant. Though he didn’t think the man was a warden, he was no common thug, for his sword and armor were silverite. “I knew you would be here!” raged the strange man through his helmet. 
 
“What are you talking about? I don’t even know you?” he complained as he sidestepped the man’s first assault and gave a riposte of his own, blocked by the man’s shield. The device on the shield—a gray wolf on a yellow background—looked familiar, but the couldn’t place it.    But there was little time to contemplate it now, or even to wonder why he was being attacked, as the man advanced on him, slashing toward him..
 
Without any armor, Alistair was all too cognizant of the fact that he did not dare let the man’s blade touch him.    Worse, he was unused to fighting without his shield. Without it, he felt off-balance, and his instincts were liable to get his left hand severed. He might be better off wielding his sword with both hands under the circumstances, but his hands were too big to get them both around the pommel. He retreated before the man’s assault, parrying each attack and studying the man’s style. His attacker was skilled. His moves were executed with good timing and precision. He was also strong, strong enough that he knew that silverite blade could carve a lethal blow through his cloak. Alistair could feel the force of his blows when he parried.
 
Calm down, he told himself. Aedan fights in melees with little more protection than this all the time, and while you’re not as quick as him, you’re quicker than this man. Dodge, parry, and bide your time. And so he retreated, and spun, and evaded blow after blow. Aedan always says if you make an armored man chase you, he’ll tire. But the climb up Warden’s Watch had left him unsure of his own stamina, and this was not the way he preferred to fight. It would be a truly stupid end to die here, when he didn’t even know why he was being attacked. He was almost tempted to flee, but he dared not turn his back.
 
He tried a backhanded slash followed by a delicate thrust, mostly to see how quickly his opponent responded. The man was pretty good…but was he breathing a little harder than Alistair? He continued to draw him back, hoping to make it to Adelheid’s door. 
 
He saw an opening and took it, a forehand slash at the man’s left arm, hoping he would drop his shield, but though he drew first blood, it was only a glancing blow and the man held on. Still, he detected a note of impatience, a desire to end this quickly. The man was taking bigger cuts with his blade…easier to dodge but deadlier if they landed. Finally, Alistair ducked beneath a whirling cut of the man’s blade—near enough to shorten his hair--and saw his opportunity. He moved forward, thrusting the point of his sword into the joint between helmet and mail. The man fell to the ground, and his blood spread into the surrounding snow. He mumbled something Alistair couldn’t understand as he died.
 
He stood over the body, still mystified by his attacker, thinking that he should probably go to the guard post at the gate and explain what had happened. He was still there when Adelheid ran down the street and gasped as he saw the man.
 
She knelt at the body and shook her head. “This is my fault. If I’d known he was here…”
 
Alistair turned to her. “You knew him? Why did he attack me.”
 
She looked up at him. “He was my husband.”
 
“What??? I’m sorry, but I didn’t know—he came at me with a sword and I—“
 
“It’s my fault, not yours. But you should leave. I’ll deal with this and explain—in a letter. I shouldn’t see you for a while. Go.”
 
“But—“
 
“Go!”
 
 He wandered back to his room, now as bewildered as he was dejected. The next day, a messenger brought him a note:
 
Dear Alistair,
 
                        I am deeply sorry that I did not explain more about my situation earlier. It was never my intention to lead you on, nor did I anticipate that our friendship could put you in danger. It did not occur to me that you would desire me as a woman, or that our friendship would come to his attention. 
 
I married the man who attacked you—Baron Thadeus Kukelbrecht—soon after I left the Circle to become a Grey Warden. My family desired an alliance with his, and his family desired a connection to the Wardens. I agreed to the arrangement, out of a desire to please the family from which I had been separated for so long. It was a mistake. There is no need to recount the details, but we were not compatible. We had not lived as man and wife for many years.
 
It was not difficult for us to separate and still maintain the fiction that we were married. After all, I had my duties here in Weisshaupt, and he had a fief to manage in the Lattenfluss Valley. But the expectation was always that I would not be known to have a lover. What I did in private mattered little, but it would not do for him to be known as a cuckold.
 
It seems that word must have come back to him that I was ‘carrying on’ with a younger man and he decided to do something about it. I suppose I should have realized from our past arguments that he might take such drastic action, but I did not think of it connection with us. We were not lovers, so I did not consider how it might appear to others. I still find it hard to believe he was so foolish as to come after you alone, but I suppose it must have been his pride to take you on without aid from retainers. I think he always resented the Wardens because he was not chosen. The Kukelbrecht family had groomed him for it, and he had failed them, which was why our marriage was necessary. I suppose he thought that coming upon you unprepared, without armor, that he could defeat you. Though he was not a monster, I shall not mourn him in truth, nor can I blame you. I know that you sought only to defend yourself.
 
I wished I could have explained all this last night, before you went out. But I was too late, and then I had to send you away, so that you would not be connected to this by the Guard. As a senior warden, I doubt they could touch you legally. However, if his family knew that he was killed by a friend of mine, they would have sought revenge. Do not concern yourself with me. I told them that Thadeus was attacked by a robber after leaving my home, and that the attacker fled before I arrived at the scene. I think I was believed. After all—even if they thought I had cause to slay him—I am no swordsman.
 
His family will be coming to Weisshaupt soon and I will need to go through the motions of grief while they are here. I think it is best if we avoid each other for a time. After they depart, I would still like to be your friend, though I understand if you do not wish it so.
 
With my deepest apologies,
 
Adelheid.
 
He crumpled the parchment up and tossed it away with a sigh.

[maxernst]

20.    WEISSHAUPT: NEW INSTRUCTIONS
 
Alistair stayed in Weisshaupt throughout the winter months. Each day passed much the same as the previous one as he went to the keep to train the younger wardens, spar with his peers, do his exercises, then returned to his cold room. Baron Kukelbrecht’s funeral came and went, but while he saw Adelheid from a distance occasionally—Weisshaupt was too small for their paths never to cross—he made no move to resume their friendship. Her rejection of his tentative overture, had stilled any thoughts of staying in Weisshaupt.
 
But neither was he looking forward to returning to Ferelden. It was hard to imagine serving under Aedan if they were no longer lovers. Perhaps he could ask to be assigned to lead some post like Mont Vieuxmur. However, the Wardens preferred to have posts run by Wardens of their native country, and Ferelden had only the one stronghold. But even if Aedan could be persuaded to allow him to open a new chapter—perhaps at Soldier’s Peak?—he doubted he would find much satisfaction in it.
 
He supposed that it was foolish to expect more from his life than training, Joinings and the occasional Darkspawn raid until he descended into the Deep Roads for the last time. After all, centuries passed between Blights; most Grey Wardens never saw one. In war, victory;  in death, sacrifice; in peace vigilance. Who would have thought that it would be the last of those three that would be most challenging. But it was so: the vigilance that occupied the bulk of the lives of Wardens over the centuries was not enough for him.   Why had it ever seemed otherwise?
 
When he had passed the Joining, the Archdemon was already stirring and had haunted his dreams. It had been terrible and frightening and glorious. He and his brothers—the fatherless boy had brothers!—had been united in blood, united in purpose. That had come to an end at Ostagar, but the need for him had not ended. And even when the Blight had been vanquished, there had been Aedan…maybe Adelheid had been right that he could not expect another to fill Aedan’s boots. Aedan had told him once that he had fought the Blight and killed the Archdemon for him, not for Ferelden or the Grey Wardens or anything else. Alistair wasn’t sure he was comfortable with so…extreme a love, but it had sustained him for years and there was a void in his life without it.
 
Being a Warden in Weisshaupt was not like those months with Duncan. Ferelden’s Wardens were a small, close knit group that really had felt like brothers, like family. Weisshaupt had so many Wardens that there were many he still had not met, or who were little more than faces or names to him. And with the political role of Wardens in the Anderfels--and without the immediacy of the Blight—a Warden here seemed little different than any other soldier in a time of peace. 
 
Still, he told himself, we are not just any soldiers. Our purpose is to defend not one nation’s narrow interests, but all life on the surface. But he struggled to find much satisfaction in vigilance, and yearned for more positive action.   So it was with some relief that he received the summons to First’s office on a late afternoon in early Guardian.
 
 
He entered Anshelm’s office to find it much as it had been the last time he was there, right down to Aristomachus standing by the book case beside the First’s desk. He nodded to both in greeting as the First gestured for him to take the chair opposite the desk.
 
“Thank you for your prompt arrival, Alistair. As you can see Aristomachus has returned from Minrathous and has excellent news: his experiments were successful and he believes that he can reach the godchild through Aedan.”
 
Aristomachus held up a cautionary hand. “I would not say that. I know that the technique works for locating blood relatives within our world, but the girl is in another realm entirely. Still,” he stroked his beard, “I judge it worth a try.”
 
Alistair turned to the mage. “But that’s amazing! If you can reach a man’s relatives this way, couldn’t this be used to transmit messages instantly over long distance?” Problems of communication over long distances had plagued armies at war for centuries. Sometimes bloody battles and massacres had taken place after the war was over, simply because of the delay in receiving word that a peace had been accepted. 
 
Aristomachus blinked, then slowly explained, “I don’t think this could ever be used in that way except in dire need. It takes…a great deal of power, much like the ritual that was used to confront the demon you told us about in Redcliffe.”
 
He nodded. He should have thought of that himself. 
 
Anshelm leaned across the desk. “Still, we believe it is worth it in this instance. However, we need to get Aedan to come to Coteaux du Roche. The ritual must be performed close to where the girl crossed over to the other world to have a chance, we believe.” Aristomachus nodded in confirmation. “And that’s where you come in. We do not think Aedan will answer our summons. You must persuade him to help us.”
 
Alistair frowned. “I—can try, but I can’t promise anything. If Aedan listened to me, we would have come here, rather than looking for Morrigan. He’s…stubborn.”
 
“But would he not do anything to have you back?”
 
Alistair jerked back in his chair in surprise. How did the First know that he had left Aedan? He had told no one in Weisshaupt but Adelheid. “I—he might but I…don’t know if I want to…be with him again.”
 
Aristomachus shrugged. “So change your mind later on.”
 
“But he’ll know if I’m lying to him…” protested Alistair.
 
Anshelm shook his head. “It is never difficult to lie to a man when he wants to believe you.” His pale blue gaze fixed on Alistair. “This is our best chance to make an end to the danger posed by Urthemiel. We are counting on you, Alistair.”
 
He took a deep breath. He felt sick to his stomach at the thought of deceiving Aedan in such a hurtful way. Maybe it wouldn’t be necessary; maybe Aedan would agree to come to Coteaux du Roche without him having to make false promises. After all, it did make sense to stop Aife from becoming a danger, didn’t it? And she wouldn’t even have to die…Aristomachus had said that killing her in the fade might render her tranquil, harmless. “I will do my best.”
 
The First leaned back and exhaled. “Good.” He extended his hand across the desk to shake Alistair’s. “Well, I think you should plan to leave as soon as possible. If I don’t see you again before you go, I must thank you once agan for your service. I know that you endured great hardship to reach us. May you find your way home safely.” He suggested that Alistair leave in two days with a messenger who was headed for the port of Asariel. Alistair was hesitant to agree to a sea voyage, but knew that the passes to Orlais would still be too snowbound to negotiate.
 
Aristomachus walked along side him as he left the keep.”Thank you for sharing your account with us,” he said, as they parted, “…it was truly fascinating, a remarkable story. I feel—honored to have heard it. Good luck, brother.”
 
Alistair returned to his room to begin packing. He had one more day to say his goodbyes and make sure he had all the necessary supplies, before he would need to depart for Asariel. As he was clearing off the small writing desk, he picked up Aedan’s last letter and noticed the wax seal had peeled off intact rather than breaking when he had opened the letter. He was about to put it away when he noticed that the seal didn’t look quite the way he remembered.
 
Comparing it to the ink print from Aedan’s signet ring on the inside of the letter, he realized the impression in the wax seal was missing the small stylized “F” for Ferelden on the lower right corner. The mark on the wax was made by a Warden signet ring, no doubt, but it wasn’t Aedan’s. The First had read Aedan’s letter.