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[Sisimka]

http://www.fanfictio...t/s/5701751/12/



Darkspawn



Aedan dreamed:

The scene was still and so very bright, the only sound the crunch of his own footsteps over icy snow. He was climbing a steep path, the snow swept into high drifts against the trees lining each side, sometimes exposing the wooden beams that had been set into the earth for traction. Except for the work of the wind, the path had not been cleared or traveled in some time. He paused to look up, the mist of his warm breath puffing into the cold air before his face. There was a break in the trees just ahead as the path appeared to crest the hill. He felt a sense of wellness and was enjoying the mild exertion of the climb. He’d been cooped up too long waiting for the storm to pass.

As he gained the top of the path, a village square opened before him and there was that nagging sense of familiarity again. He turned his head about, noting that the houses seemed deserted, more mounds of snow were piled against disused doorways and shuttered windows. To his right the path continued up another hill, heading further into the mountains, to his left it wandered through the village to a small dock which overlooked a frozen lake. He turned right and continued up the path a vague idea forming of checking the view from the top.

This path had been more protected from the wind and he had to pause often, testing the depth of the snow with his staff before simply wading through the more shallow drifts. He finally reached the top and before him stood a large building…a chantry? He remembered this building, though it had not been half hidden by snow the last time he’d been here. Where was he? He walked around the side of the building to take in the view he sought. It was breathtaking. To his right the mountain continued to incredible heights, the peak obscured by passing clouds. To his left he could see back down over the village, the small dock, the lake, and down the mountain path into the foothills. Breathtaking indeed.

He returned to the front of the building and leaned upon the heavy wooden doors. With a protest of disused hinges one door cracked open and he slipped inside. It was dim and cold. The windows were small and high, letting in very little light. There were candles to the left and he fumbled to light one, not willing to shed his mittens until he found some warmth.

He spent some time exploring the deserted chantry. It consisted of a large main hall and two side rooms, one to either side of the altar. The right hand side comprised a library and he flipped through a few volumes and opened one or two drawers out of curiosity before returning to the main hall and proceeding to explore the room to the left. This area included a bedroom, a study and a small fire place. He immediately set to lighting a fire, then shed his cloak and mittens and pulled a blanket from the bed to wrap about his shoulders as he sat to warm himself.

Sitting before the fire evoked more memories and he began to experience the feeling of déjà vu. He felt a stirring in his gut, and heard a gasp of surprise. It had felt as if his stomach had flipped over. He put his hands over his belly and looked down. Morrigan’s hands. He was not as surprised this time, he’d come to recognise the sensation of traveling with her and found himself more alarmed at the odd sensation in ‘their’ gut.

“And there he is. Did you feel him Aedan? That was our child, he has discovered himself and he moves! He is growing a little more every day.” Morrigan said. Her hands moved over her belly in a soft caress and Aedan could feel the slight thickness her middle had acquired, a rounding of the stomach that was just noticeable.

Morrigan continued to talk to him, sounding almost…conversational. “We weathered the storm together and now we will thrive. T’will not be long now, perhaps before the summer.”

She paused and the familiar push began, “You should not keep checking up on me, you know…” she sounded wistful as she faded away.

Aedan sat upright in bed and clutched at his middle, a vague sense of nausea gripping him. His hands felt only the taught expanse of muscle that was his own stomach, yet he felt no relief. Swinging his legs from under the blanket, he got up and stumbled to his desk. He poured himself a cup of water, his hands shaking, and drank quickly, attempting to wash away the bile rising in his throat. He swallowed once, twice and took a tentative breath. The dizziness and sickness slowly passed and he sat heavily in the chair beside him.

He could not gather his thoughts for a while as his mind presented flashes of the path, the village, the deserted chantry, then kept returning to the sensation in Morrigan’s belly, the child, his child. Finally it clicked and he dropped the cup he was holding, starting as it hit the floor with a loud clatter. He knew where Morrigan was…she was in Haven.

He stooped to pick up the cup and glanced at the windows. The sun was well up and he was surprised the sound of voices from the courtyard below and the clatter of weapons from the practice field had not woken him sooner. Dashing his face with water, he donned a loose shirt and pants before setting to the task of fastening on his armour.

He’d been in Amarathine nearly a month now and knew he’d chanced to sleep in on the one day a week he wasn’t scheduled for a morning workout with the recruits. The number of recruits has steadily shrunk over the past couple of weeks which did not greatly displease any of the three wardens. Of those that remained, five had fought darkspawn before defending their own land from the encroaching Blight and these men were seasoned and hardened, not likely to give up. He was ready to offer them each a place with the Grey Wardens.

The remaining recruits comprised eight men and two women, Delilah and the elven maid she’d arrived with. Aedan knew the girl, she had been in the employ of the Howe family her entire life probably, and was especially close with Delilah. He’d been surprised the first time he’d seen her fight – the two women obviously spent a lot of time sparring together and were of nearly equal skill. He idly wondered if either of the elder Howes had known their daughter had been teaching one of her maids to fight, and grinned.

His own friendship with Delilah had grown into an easy camaraderie. There had been the occasional awkward moment such as when they had been reminiscing in front of Zevran and Kayley, the elven girl. The particular incident they’d been remembering had happened the same day they had finally made love for the first time. Afterwards he and Delilah had exchanged an interesting look, one noticed by both Zevran and Kayley. The only moment more uncomfortable than this had been when he had told Delilah about Leliana. It had been a difficult conversation, not one he had intended to have, but women had a way of bringing up subjects men would rather leave untouched.

She’d sat beside him as the wardens and recruits relaxed in the hall one evening and asked if he would take a walk with her. Sensing she had something to say and that she wanted privacy, he agreed and they slipped out into the courtyard, heading for the practice field.

Once they had passed the gates, she’d laid a hand on his arm and he turned. She looked shy all of a sudden and he’d guessed she was going to tell him she was leaving, that she no longer wanted to be a Grey Warden. That was something he would have understood.

Instead she came out with, “Aedan…do you ever think about what might have happened, had things been different?”

He raised his brows in surprise and replied, “Different? You mean the Blight, or…” he trailed off, gesturing with his hand. They both knew he meant – before your father murdered my family and then I killed your father.

She shrugged lightly and said, “Well, both.”

He thought a minute, scratching the side of his head, he’d taken to cropping his black hair short against his scalp again, it was more comfortable in his helm than the thick waves he’d inherited from this mother.

“I suppose things might have continued as they were, though the Blight was already underway when…I would have been called up to fight eventually I think.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled, “Always thinking with your sword,” she said and batted him lightly on the shoulder.

He smiled and caught her hand, holding it a moment before releasing her fingers. He asked, “What’s on our mind?”

“I was talking about us, Aedan. We were, well I always assumed we’d be married.” She blushed a little and hurried on, “Our families certainly seemed to approve, we were left alone in one another’s company often enough.” She grinned and winked at him and he couldn’t help grinning back as he remembered just how often they’d managed time alone in the year before everything had changed.

Aedan’s grin faltered a little as he finally realized what Delilah had been asking. He saw that she was looking intently at him and he shifted his gaze to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he tried to spell out his thoughts, hoping to make this as clean as possible. He took her hand and began, “Delilah, there is no doubt in my mind that we…” he stopped.

She looked so hopeful that he hesitated before starting again, “Delilah, my heart is in Denerim with a woman who has become very dear to me, and though our friendship is a great joy, it cannot be more. I love another.” Leliana. He missed Leliana so much it was sometimes a physical sensation. Her weekly letters, while wonderfully entertaining and completely endearing, were a meager substitute.

Delilah extracted her hand from his and stepped back. She was quiet and her face was sad, regretful even, but she was composed. She nodded and said, “I understand,” and walked slowly away.

Aedan had worried that the renewed friendship would suffer, but surprisingly the next day Delilah, though quiet, was as amicable as ever. She only referred to their conversation once, pausing by his side that afternoon to say quietly, “She is a lucky woman, I wish you both well.” They had nodded to one another and Delilah had moved off to resume her duties.

Aedan’s mind came back to the present as he finished with the last of his armour. He picked up his weapons and stepped into the hall. After grabbing some sweet rolls from the kitchen he strode outside just a fast courier appeared at the gates. He found himself swallowing back bile for the second time that day, his thoughts racing quickly to the worst news he could imagine first: Something had happened to Leliana.

The news was dire. The Western Hills, which had been nearly decimated during the Blight, was still suffering from recurring darkspawn attacks and Arl Wulff had urgently petitioned Denerim for assistance. Alistair had sent word to Amaranthine hoping the wardens could meet Oghren on the road and help not only eradicate the vicious band of darkspawn, but discover why they were still in the area.

Aedan sent runners to every corner of the estate and returned to his study to pen a quick response to Alistair. He planned to be on the road to the Western Hills that very day.

[Freckles04]

Nice chapter! I liked how Aedan let Delilah down easily, and good on her for taking it so well. I'm eager to see who survives the upcoming Joining (I'm assuming there will be one soon)...

[Sisimka]

Thanks Freckles, it was something I felt needed to be put out of the way. Probably not the end of the 'awkward' moments as they have quite the history, but I figured after eighteen months apart, she wouldn't be too upset, perhaps more curious - again, the history.

And yup...we'll test the recruits' mettle in the upcoming skirmish with the darkspawn and then see who's left alive to sample that tasty beverage.

Modifié par Sisimka, 01 février 2010 - 07:12 .

[AdorableAnarchist]

Woohoo! this is a good one!

[bl00dsh0t]

Great chap, MOAARR, etc ^^ I gotta work on something decent to say about the story eventually but I'm too tired sry Keep up the good work ^^

[Palentor]

Oh, woe us, the anticipation of events to unfold. The possibilities.

Very nice one.

[Sisimka]

Thanks folks! Don't worry about it Bloodshot, just knowing you're still reading and enjoying is compliment enough.



Tuesday is my busy, busy day, so I'll try and work on tomorrow's chapter tonight, otherwise forgive me if it's a late post tomorrow...

[Sisimka]

The Western Hills



Aedan relayed last minute instructions to Jacob. He was leaving the ten man contingent at Amaranthine to keep order and deal with any recruits that might trickle in, as he expected to meet up with Oghren and his men before they reached the Western Hills. He looked over his shoulder and noted that Philippe, Jean, Zevran the ten most fit recruits were assembled and ready to leave.

The sun was barely at its zenith when they left Amaranthine and he was not the only one impressed by this feat. Philippe had dropped his usual critical manner and actually complimented the recruits on their attitude. They traveled hard and made camp before the sun set. The next day would be a full day of travel and Aedan advised everyone to get in as much sleep as possible as he toured the camp, handing out watch assignments.

The wardens made an early start the next morning, which dawned dark and overcast. Aedan pushed the band to put as much distance behind them as they could before the rain hit. As it was, they were only able to travel half the day before they were driven to seek shelter by wild wind and lightening. Damp tents were pitched and everyone did their best to find dry clothing in their packs. There was a lot of huddling and shivering throughout the afternoon as the storm raged on. Aedan napped. He’d learned to grab sleep where he could and found the sound of the rain outside his tent all the inducement he needed to drift off.

When he awoke the rain had stopped, but the thunder was still rolling in the distance. He could hear the steady dripping of rain from gear and tree branches, the low hum of voices and the welcome crackle of a fire. He emerged from his tent to find Zevran entertaining Delilah and Kayley with a story from his time with the Crows. It sounded like that second mission, the one where Zevran had fallen in the river. Aedan shook his head and smiled as he moved toward the fire. He warmed his hands and listened to the rest of the story. Zevran finished up and stood, moving to Aedan’s side.

“What say you?” Zevran asked and the very sound of his voice accompanied by the quiet sound of an evening camp transported Aedan back a year. Aedan looked down as his friend and said, “Takes you back, doesn’t it? The camp, the fire, the fear of darkspawn lurking behind every tree...”

They shared a smile. Aedan asked, “What is everyone up to, have we set a watch?” He looked to the red steak of sky across the horizon, the only sun they’d seen all day finally escaping beneath the band of storm clouds.

Zevran replied, “This is first watch, I am to wake Jean and Eric when I retire.”

Aedan nodded and said, “Why don’t you get some sleep now, I’ll take your place.” He stretched his hands up over his head, hearing his back pop a little as he did so. “I’ve been asleep all afternoon anyway.”

Zevran nodded and melted away into the gathering dusk and Aedan stepped toward the log the girls were leaning against and sat next to Delilah. He leaned back and closed his eyes again, enjoying the warmth of the fire until Delilah poked him in the ribs and whispered, “Hey, sleepy head, I thought you were keeping watch.”

He turned his head and smiled at her, whispering in return, “I was watching the inside of my eyelids. Why are we whispering?”

She tipped her head to the other side and he leaned around her to look at Kayley. The girl was slumped against the log with her eyes closed and her mouth open a little – asleep. He leaned back and grinned at Delilah, and said quietly “I thought Zev’s stories were more exciting than that.”

They sat quietly for a long time, each lost in their own thoughts, until Aedan wondered if Delilah had fallen asleep too. He turned to look at her and noticed her shivering. He slipped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her close. She seemed about to resist, then softened and leaned against his side, resting her head against his shoulder with a quiet, “Mm, you’re warm.”

Aedan was staring at the fire with his gaze unfocussed, just letting his mind wander again when Delilah whispered, “Do you remember when our fathers took us on that overnight hunt and we sat at the campfire just like this?”

He nodded gently and she went on, “I was so excited to be included, my mother was furious!” Aedan could hear the amusement in her voice. Delilah had so loved to defy her mother. She shivered again and her tone had changed as she continued, “Tell me about the darkspawn, Aedan, are they truly frightening?”

Aedan hugged her closer to him a minute as he composed his response. “The darkspawn are terrifying, I won’t lie to you, but they die just like anything else.” He paused and tilted his head to look at her, “Hold to your training ‘Lilah, focus on your weapons and your skills, work with your companions. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s what I do, it’s what pulls me through every battle.”

He had forgotten that he’d used to call her Lilah until the name slipped from his lips. He suddenly became aware of her body pressed close to his and remembered well the last person he’d held this close had been Leliana. They’d often kept watch together, snuggled before the fire. Oghren had been convinced they would all be slaughtered overnight while Aedan and Leliana ‘canoodled’ as he’d called it.

He glanced down at Delilah and found she was looking up at him, her face inches from his. His eyes traveled to her lips, then back to those soft grey eyes of hers, a face so familiar and yet different at the same time. He could see in her eyes that if he kissed her, she would not back away. The moment seemed to stretch on forever.

Aedan caught his breath and lifted his arm from her shoulders, straightening his back before pushing up from the log, standing quickly. He held out a hand to her, lifting her to her feet and said gruffly, “Getting a good night’s sleep is just as important. Why don’t you turn in?”

She gave him a curious look and seemed to be about to say something else, before simply replying, “Goodnight Aedan, and thank you.” She knelt to rouse Kayley and the two went to find their tent.

Aedan sat alone before the fire quite a while longer before he went to wake the next watch and retired to his own tent.

They met Oghren on the road late the next afternoon. He was traveling with a small band of five men. He and Aedan clapped each other on the shoulder and even Zevran appeared genuinely pleased to see the dwarf again. Introductions where exchanged and the entire company formed up and continued toward the Western Hills. They decided to break for camp a little early that night so that they would reach their destination late the next morning with a good night’s sleep behind them.

The mood at camp that night was markedly more jovial than the previous evening and though there was ale about, the men and women drank only modest amounts. With the exception the five raw recruits, they had all faced darkspawn before and were mindful of having clear heads in the morning. Aedan, Oghren and Zevran spent much of the evening together exchanging stories and news. Oghren had another letter from Leliana and Aedan devoured it like a man starved, much to the amusement of his companions. As he folded the sheet, he turned to Oghren and asked quietly, expecting to be teased, but asking anyway, “How does she fare?”

Oghren smiled and took pity on him, replying simply, “She is well, Warden, and she misses you. Of course she has that pesky hound of yours for company.” Aedan’s mabari, Jack, had literally adopted Leliana, which was unusual, but had only reinforced Aedan’s initial good opinion of the woman – if the hound liked her, that was good enough for him. He was glad to know she had Jack watching over her. Aedan nodded and excused himself, slipping into his tent before taking the letter out again, reading it beginning to end.

Next morning the mood was more subdued and the conversation crisp and business like as the wardens made plans. They were two or three hours away from the last known sighting of darkspawn. Aedan and Philippe conferred with Oghren and it was agreed they would send four of their most raw recruits and Jean with Oghren and his more seasoned men, neatly splitting the small army into two units of ten each. Aedan was sure to include Delilah and Kayley in the exchange, not trusting himself to stay impartial to their position during battle. They designated a rallying point on the other side of Arl Wulff’s lands. Aedan and Oghren grasped each other by the forearm, before Aedan addressed the assembled forces with a simple, “Maker watch over you.”

He turned to his own company and signaled them to move out and the army parted ways, one to either side of the highway. They had been traveling through the forest for three hours before Aedan felt the presence of darkspawn. He glanced over at Philippe and the older warden nodded at him. He’d felt them too. He silently indicated the change of direction to his men and they formed up before creeping to the top of a low ridge. Spread below them was a darkspawn camp, a large darkspawn camp. By all appearances, they were well entrenched – they’d set up a forge and barricades and rudimentary shelters. They had been here for some time.

Aedan signaled them all to pull out their bows, figuring ten, or if they were lucky, twenty shots would thin the ranks of darkspawn before they entered the fray. At his mark, the men loosed their first arrows and many of them got off a second shot, wounding perhaps eleven of the darkspawn before switching to their melee weapons and charging down the slope. As had become their habit, Aedan and Zevran fought together, often flanking the same target. Their tactic had always been to back up Alistair, allowing his sword and shield to deflect the strongest foe while they cleaned up around him. As Philippe engaged the alpha hurlock, Aedan and Zevran reprised their roles, dancing behind him and before him, deflecting blows and stunning archers. The rest of the men split similarly into groups of three and four, a shield and sword warrior the centre of each knot of men, and they fell into the rhythm of swing, parry, duck and swing again.

The battle was loud, furious and short. Though they had been outnumbered by more than two to one, Aedan had not taken the time to either consider the odds, or how such a large band of darkspawn had come together. He fought and blocked, wincing and ducking as a huge hammer whistled past his helm. They had no mages and no healers at their disposal and this spurred on their swift pace, they needed to do as much damage in the shortest possible time in order to avoid being too heavily wounded.

Aedan took a blow to his side and swiftly turned, winded, but able to lift his sword enough to deflect the follow up. He slipped his dagger under the genlock’s guard and thrust it upwards, aiming for the gap between the creature’s armour and helm. He stepped back, drew in a pained breath and crossed his blades behind another darkspawn, neatly decapitating it. Blinking the resultant spray of blood from his eyes, he sought his next target and found it, a hurlock racing up behind Philippe. Then Zevran was there, spinning through the air and landing neatly behind the hurlock, his twin blades flurrying at its back, biting through armor and downing the creature.

Aedan was sure he heard someone whisper his name and he turned, just in time to avoid a massive double-sided axe, the weapon raising sparks from his shoulder armour with a screech of metal. He stepped back, stunned and raised his weapons, crossed, to try and catch the upswing as the axe swung back toward him. He stopped the axe, but was thrown back by the impact, landing on the dirt with a crash. He immediately drew his knees up and shot his legs out at the towering hurlock, knocking it off balance long enough to regain his feet. Zevran slipped behind the large darkspawn and began spinning, his blades catching Aedan’s target and three others in crippling strikes. The pair worked to finish them off before taking a breath and checking on Philippe’s position. The Orlesian stood a short distance away, looking faintly stunned, then turned to brace his foot on the chest of a dead genlock, grasping his sword and extricating it from the dead body.

The last darkspawn was dispatched and the men began to regroup. Aedan did a quick head count. Seven, eight…his eyes began to scan the ground. There, one of unseasoned recruits pinned to the ground by a darkspawn axe. Aedan picked his way over the carnage and grasping the axe, pulled it from the young man’s chest. He knelt beside the body and checked for a pulse and found none. He looked further and found the other missing man lying against a tree with his hands clutched to his middle where his armour had been cleaved open. He was a mess. Struggling to keep his face impassive, Aedan did what he could for the man and helped him to his feet. Mages, they needed mages…a wound like this was too grave for simple bandages and poultices. The company was gathered on the far side of the camp and they moved out together, traveling for perhaps half an hour before Aedan called a halt and allowed them to rest, clean their wounds and weapons and eat, if they could.

They continued their patrol throughout the afternoon, the men taking turns carrying the body and helping the wounded recruit limp along until he finally passed out. They were only a half hour from the designated camp and Aedan shouldered the burden the rest of the way. When they arrived at the camp, Oghren was already there and by the condition of his armor and men, it was obvious they had seen darkspawn as well. Aedan slipped the recruit from his shoulder, directing him to lie down and looked around until he saw where the dead were being buried. He took up their dead man and carried the body over, placing it reverently next to the two from Oghren’s company and stood a moment, contemplating all three of the faces. Two recruits and one of Alistair’s army, three men dead. Offering a prayer to the Maker, Aedan turned to help with the wounded. As he walked around the camp he realized he had not seen Delilah and he began to feel a rising panic as he searched the faces of the wounded and their attendants with no success.

He finally spotted her and realized why he had not recognised her sooner, her hair was dark with blood and grime, but she appeared unharmed. She crouched over Kayley, binding the elf’s arm with linen strips. He dropped to his knees beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. Delilah looked up and her face crumpled. He slipped his arms around her and held her close and she trembled against him. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, sweaty and blood stained as it was, he couldn’t get any filthier, and then disengaged himself to look in on the rest of the wounded. Three men were severely wounded and though all possible was being done, they most likely would not make it through the night. Mages, they needed mages! He thought wistfully of Wynne, her sure hand and steady company, and shook his head sadly. He needed to send word back to Alistair with Oghren, find out what the king could do.

He finally stood, dropping the limp hand of the last wounded man and found Philippe waiting beside him. The older warden tipped his head to the edge of the clearing and Aedan followed him, his gut clenching as he mentally prepared for whatever criticisms the Orlesian had for him. To his utter surprised Philippe stuck out his hand and when Aedan returned the gesture, the man gripped his forearm tightly and said, “The hero of Ferelden,” he paused and shook his head slowly, “Damien was wrong about you. I don’t know how you survived the arch demon, but if what I saw today is any indication of your dedication to the fight, let me just say, I am not surprised you did.”

Aedan opened his mouth to speak, but Philippe held up a hand and continued, “We took losses today, yes, but I had expected more. You have trained these men well, you are a worthy Commander, Brother.” He paused here, then continued, “ I know we do not often see eye to eye, but this was my task…Damien believed you had survived through some,” he shrugged, “dumb luck, as you say, but I think I begin to see the truth. You Fereldens are a dedicated people.” With that, Philippe bowed before him then turned and walked away. Aedan could only stand and gape a few moments, before following him back to camp.

He sought out Oghren and listened as the dwarf described their battle – it had been remarkably similar to their own. Two camps full of darkspawn so close to one another, it was horrifying that they’d been able to become so entrenched. They needed to set up more regular patrols. They needed more Grey Wardens. He discreetly asked after Delilah and Kayley and their role in the battle and Oghren raised his brows, commenting, “Aren’t you the sly one, and here I thought you and the bard had eyes only for each other.”

“Delilah is the daughter of Rendon Howe.”

Oghren looked blank.

“The Rendon Howe I killed in Denerim, the man that murdered my family.”

Understanding began to creep across Oghren’s face as Aedan finally added, “We grew up together, we were…friends for a very long time before…” he spread his hands and Oghren nodded.

“She did fine, Warden, spitfire with that axe and dagger, I’d not like to sneak up behind ‘er. The little one, the elf, she took a bad blow, but she’ll mend. I’ll keep an eye on ‘em for ya, don’t you worry.” The dwarf patted his arm and moved off to oversee his men.

The three badly wounded died in the night. Delilah and Kayley were a little pale and withdrawn in the morning, but donned their armour and weapons with the rest of the men as they prepared to spend another day scouting the woods for darkspawn. Aedan, Philippe and Jean had conferred and they’d felt nothing throughout the night and they hoped that the same would hold true for the day. Aedan made a point of catching Delilah before she left with Oghren’s men, taking her hand and saying quietly, “You look out for Kayley and I’ll see you both this evening, alright?”

She offered a tight smile and a nod and turned to follow her company through the woods. They planned to sweep a wider circle today, further from the road, ending back where they had camped two nights ago. If all was clear, they would part ways the next day, Oghren heading for Denerim and Aedan for Amaranthine.

The day proved completely uneventful and when they caught up with Oghren, he reported only one minor skirmish – it appeared they’d caught up with a group of three darkspawn fleeing the previous day’s battle. No more dead, no more wounded. After a somber night at camp, they separated the next morning, Oghren minus two men, Aedan down four recruits. Oghren had a pouch of letters to deliver and managed to grumble about not being a ‘sodding courier’ before grasping first Zevran’s then Aedan’s arms and bidding them farewell. Just as he was about out of ear shot, the dwarf turned and called over his shoulder, “I’ll be sure to give that girl of yours a great big hug for you!” and his face creasing in a lewd wink, he turned back to the road and ordered his men forward.

Aedan and his company set out for Amaranthine.

[Freckles04]

I was worried about Delilah! I'm glad she made it through the fight. I wonder if she'll survive the Joining, however...

[Sisimka]

I have a list of characters that I would like to survive the joining, but part of me loves the randomness of rolling a die to decide and just writing it out from there...

It's the next chapter and I'm having trouble sitting down and concentrating on it, some difficult decisions coming up.

Modifié par Sisimka, 02 février 2010 - 06:35 .

[Palentor]

I have my suspicions about Delilah's fate... but I wouldn't be surprised if I am wrong. )

[bl00dsh0t]

Excellent chap, joining inc...tasty angst i sense ^^

[Sisimka]

http://www.fanfictio...t/s/5701751/14/

The Joining


Alistair finished stuffing the last of his socks into his pack and looked around his room, making sure he’d not forgotten anything. He was full of anticipation, excitement and a small curl of dread. He was eager to leave Denerim and visit Amaranthine. He devoured reports and letters from Aedan the moment they landed on his desk and though his friend wrote clearly, his reports were too concise for Alistair’s tastes. He longed to see for himself the rebuilding of the Grey Wardens. He had mixed feelings regarding the upcoming joining, however. As much as Ferelden needed more Grey Wardens, he knew not all of the recruits would survive the ritual. Aedan’s last letter detailing the fatalities in the Western Hills had been bleak. When it came to the death of an innocent, the men were of the same mind and he felt the losses as Aedan had.

Leliana, and the mage, Taren, joined him as he exited the palace. Taren had expressed interest in joining the Grey Wardens. Alistair, having received Aedan’s urgent plea, had thanked the mage and encouraged him to travel to Amaranthine with them. Standing behind them was the ten man squad he was not allowed to leave the city, or even the palace, without. Oghren was standing at the foot of the stairs barking last minute instructions to the men. He would be staying in Denerim with the rest of the army. Arl Eamon was also waiting quietly nearby. Alistair stepped over to the man he considered family and grasped his shoulder. “See you in a week, Eamon.”

The arl nodded and patted Alistair’s arm in return. “Give my regards to the Chancellor.”

Alistair smiled at Aedan’s other title and how little the man had wanted it. Despite his protests, Aedan was a good advisor. Having been raised a noble there were a lot of things he innately understood. Things Alistair was learning now under Eamon’s careful guidance. In idle moments he toyed with the fantasy of ordering Aedan back to Denerim as chancellor so that he could take up the mantle of Warden Commander for a while.

Their journey to Amaranthine was pleasant, the weather mild. Leliana, as was her way, entertained the party with stories and when at camp with songs. Afterwards they sat companionably together by the campfire and she spoke to him quietly of the last gossip she’d heard before leaving the city. Listening to her melodious voice against the backdrop of night sounds and the crackling of the fire, he felt a longing for the remainder of his companions of the previous year. From Sten they’d had no word, nor did they expect any. He wondered if they’d ever see the Qunari again. There had been no letters from Wynne either, though Alistair was hardly surprised. She and the golem, Shale, had had a long journey ahead of them. It was likely they would return themselves before any correspondence.

He glanced across the fire at a break in the wooded copse and guessed that might have been were Morrigan would have set herself up. He had been startled to get Aedan’s letter about Morrigan. He knew his friend had been having odd dreams, but hadn’t really paid a lot of attention to them. He smiled to himself…Leliana talked of visions as well, he’d supposed it was something the pair had in common. But the dream he’d written about had an odd clarity to it and Alistair couldn’t help suspecting Aedan might be on to something. If Morrigan was in Haven they could organize a party to keep tabs on her and…the child.

Leliana had fallen silent and he turned to look at her. She was staring dreamily into the fire and he thanked the Maker she hadn’t noticed is inattentiveness. The bard was easy company and he’d enjoyed the chance to get to know her better over the past month – even if she couldn’t help but tease him over every stray glance he might give a nicely dressed lady. He was supposed to be on the lookout for a wife, was he not?

She had been unusually quiet of late though. He’d hesitated to ask if she simply missed Aedan or if something else was bothering her, and felt acutely his lack of comfort around women. He hoped this visit to Amaranthine and her beloved warden would be all that was required to restore her sunny disposition. With that thought he touched her lightly on the shoulder and said good night before making his way to his tent.

The party arrived at Amaranthine just as the sun was setting the next day. As they crested the last hill and followed the road to the main gates, Alistair couldn’t help but be impressed with what he saw. In the month and a half Aedan and his men had been here, the place had been cleaned up and restored. The road was in good repair and the well lit estate looked inviting in the fading daylight. A shield had been mounted above the main gate bearing same Grey Warden crest as Aedan’s Armour. From the pristine condition of it, Alistair guessed it was in fact Aedan’s shield as the warrior much preferred the weight of a blade in either hand.

Two guards were stationed at the gate and as they approached, Alistair noticed a small crowd had formed in the courtyard beyond. The welcoming party…lovely…he couldn’t go anywhere without being king these days it seemed. But his face broke into a grin the instant he caught sight of the Warden Commander. Aedan stood in the centre of the gates. Six weeks without Leliana’s astute eye for fashion and the warrior looked much as he had when they’d been on the road last year. His black hair was short again and his clothes barely serviceable. It was odd how someone raised as a noble could care so little for their appearance, but that was Aedan. Though his face wore an easy grin, Alistair didn’t miss the shadows in his light blue eyes…his friend looked about as overwhelmed as he’d felt in the city. They were both shouldering heavy burdens. Aedan strode forward and clasped his arms and then surprised him by pulling him into a hug. He returned the gesture realising the warden must have missed him just as much as he’d missed his friend.

Aedan stepped back, looking a little self-conscious, cleared his throat and said formally, “Welcome to Amaranthine, Your Majesty.”

Alistair smiled and said, “It is my pleasure to be here, Commander.”

The two men grinned at each other again and then Aedan turned to introduce him to the small crowd in the courtyard. Alistair stepped past Aedan to greet Zevran with nearly as much enthusiasm. The elf smiled widely at him, his tone familiarly jovial as dipped his head and said, “Your Majesty.” He then acknowledged the two Orlesian wardens and was in turn welcomed to Amaranthine by Jacob and the rest of his guard. He took the time to meet each of the assembled recruits, remembering with a sad little jolt how Cailan had performed the same duty at Ostagar.

Alistair then turned to look for Aedan, eager to get settled and catch up on news. When his eyes found the warden, he smiled softly to himself – he might have to wait a while on that front. Aedan and Leliana were standing in the shadow of the main gate, just a little apart from the crowd. They faced one another, holding hands, and were staring wordlessly into one another’s faces. As he watched, Aedan stepped in and pulled the woman into a crushing hug, holding her so close that Alistair began do doubt her ability to breathe. At a light touch to his arm he turned away, slightly embarrassed at having seen such a private moment, and followed Jacob inside the main hall.

                                                                                               --=0=--

Aedan did not feel the slightest guilt at having deprived the hall of Leliana’s talents the previous night. Though he’d been overjoyed to see Alistair again, and nearly as equally pleased to see Taren – especially upon learning the young mage’s ambition to become a Grey Warden – nothing had compared to what he’d felt at seeing Leliana. Just the very sight of her, even travel stained and weary as she’d been, had taken his breath away. He’d lost the ability to speak as he’d held her, and had simply hugged her hard until she’d laughingly wriggled from his embrace and raised her lovely face to be kissed. He’d willingly complied. All the doubt and confusion he’d felt in the last six weeks seemed to melt away as he’d kissed her, and just as he was considering sneaking her away to his room there had been a quiet cough at his side. Dinner had been served and the king waited upon his attendance.

The evening was filled with laughter and merriment and he’d indulged the recruits, allowing the ale to flow freely knowing that for some this may be their very last evening. It was a sobering thought and one that was obviously on the mind of all four wardens present. He could see it in their eyes as they exchanged glances and strove at times to keep their expressions even and relaxed. He’d sat Alistair at the head of the table and himself to the right with Leliana at his side. He held her hand during dinner and fought to keep himself from touching her more intimately. Instead he drank in her presence with his eyes until she begged him to stop, laughing and blushing lightly.

After dinner there had been calls for stories and songs, which a few of the recruits answered with reasonable talent. Before someone could point out Leliana’s skill with song, he took the opportunity to slip quietly from the room pulling her close behind him. He had been so absorbed by her company all evening he’d not even once looked in Delilah’s direction. If he had, he’d have seen that the girl looked downcast despite the merriment of the dinner.

Now he stretched languidly beside his love, watching her sleep. He felt truly rested for the first time in weeks. But as he lay quietly wishing he had the leisure to spend all day by her side, his thoughts turned to the Joining. He had business to attend to. Dropping a light kiss to her brow, he slipped silently from the bed and gathered his clothes, dressing as quickly as he could. He eased the door to his room closed behind him and looked up to find Alistair walking down the hall. They nodded gravely to one another, a silent acknowledgement of what each of them felt, and went down to the dining room.

After helping themselves to a light breakfast, Alistair asked after the recruits. He said, “Given what might happen today, I’m not sure I want to know about them.”

Aedan nodded, wishing he had the luxury of ignorance, but he’d worked with these men and women for six weeks now. He pushed the list of seven names he’d compiled across the table to Alistair and the king regarded it a minute before looking up, “Delilah Howe?”

Aedan blanched, he’d not been sure Alistair would recognise the name, being that the former arl of Amaranthine hadn’t been the only Howe in Ferelden, but the coincidence was too great. He nodded and replied, “Howe’s daughter.”

He watched as Alistair digested this news. He’d not written to the king of Delilah’s presence directly, he’d been careful not to mention any names, just detailing numbers and training schedules and progress. Alistair was studying the list intently, though he obviously was no longer reading it. He finally looked up and said, “Did you…did she, why is she here?”

Leaving out certain details, Aedan quickly filled Alistair in on his history with Delilah. He mentioned their friendship throughout childhood and her confession soon after arrival. She had not known of her father’s plans. Alistair watched him intently and then said, “What are you not telling me?”

Aedan looked at his hands a moment before replying, “We were…close…before…”

Alistair’s expression said he understood precisely what Aedan had not spelled out. He said, “Aedan, are you sure about this? You know what this could mean…”

“She’s talented with her blades Alistair, very. This girl has been training since she was old enough to hold a dagger. Howe was quite indulgent with her.” He paused and then continued, “To answer your question, no. I’m not sure. I hate the thought of losing any of these recruits. But we need Grey Wardens and her motivation is keen. Both Oghren and Zevran are impressed with her and Kayley’s skills. Not an insignificant feat in Zevran’s case.”

Philippe and Jean joined them just then and the conversation turned to more practical matters, where the chalice was, where the vile concoction they would offer the recruits was, and where to hold the ritual. Aedan had told Alistair of Philippe’s change in attitude and he saw that the king was making the effort to be cordial to the warden. Philippe was unfailingly polite. Jean was subdued. They all knew what might happen today.

Aedan put his hands on the table and pushed his chair back, standing up. “Let us be on with this then,” he said and was answered by a quiet murmur of agreement. They went to find the recruits.

The serious expressions on the faces of the four wardens obviously had some effect on the recruits and they mimicked the somber mood as the eleven men and woman walked beyond the grounds of the main house to a stone pavilion set in a quiet grove behind a low hill. Aedan knew it for the ‘summer house’ where Lady Howe had entertained noble ladies and felt oddly perturbed to be using it for such a solemn ceremony.

The men and women formed a loose circle facing Aedan and the other three wardens. Though two of the men had been initially awed by the presence of the king, they had been told Alistair was here as a Grey Warden. This did little to relax the company, however, as the ritual which had been shrouded in such secrecy was finally upon them.

After glancing at the chalice upon the stone table, Aedan looked up at the recruits. He found their intense gaze unnerving, knowing the questions they had, the apprehensions they held. Gesturing to the chalice behind him, he cleared his throat and began. “Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Some of you may pay that price today.”

Some of the recruits darted glances at each other and the chalice and there was a general shifting of feet and twitching of hands. Aedan shifted his gaze to each recruit in turn, catching their eyes and measuring their resolve before continuing.

“You will each be asked to drink darkspawn blood,” he indicated the chalice once again, “that you might master the taint. Those who survive the joining will become immune to the taint and be able to sense the darkspawn. You will be forever changed.”

Aedan continued to hold the attention of the men and women before him by meeting each individual gaze. He felt that if he faltered in his own steadfastness, he would fail the recruits and in doing so, allow them to fail themselves.

“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the beginning.”

He gestured to Jean and the young Orlesian warden bowed his head. All followed suit.

“Join us brothers and sisters
Join us in the shadows were we stand vigilant
Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn
And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten
And that one day we shall join you.”

Aedan allowed only the smallest moment of silence to follow these words before turning and picking up the chalice. He stepped forward toward the nearest recruit, one of the seasoned veterans from the siege of Denerim. The man stepped forward to meet him and reached for the cup. He drank.

The reaction was immediate. The man’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to his knees making awful choking and gasping sounds. His hands clutched at his neck, then relaxed as he pitched forward on the cool stone floor. Alistair knelt beside him and felt for the pulse in his neck. Aedan did not realize he’d been holding his breath until Alistair nodded and he released it in a rush of air. The man was alive. The new warden suddenly opened his eyes and gasped as if struggling for breath. He coughed. Alistair helped him to his feet and led him to the side of the pavilion to be seated, taking a quiet moment to pat the man’s shoulder before returning to stand near Aedan.

One down, six to go. Aedan steeled his nerve and handed the chalice to the second recruit. The result was much the same.

The third recruit died horribly. He thrashed about on the floor bloodying his face and hands before suddenly stiffening and lying completely still. His eyes were open and staring, perfectly white. Philippe and Jean quickly stepped forward to pick the man up and carry him away.

The fourth recruit looked terrified. He took a step back from Aedan as he approached, his lips moving in prayer, his eyes never leaving the chalice. Aedan stopped before him, hoping his lack of forward movement would halt the man’s backward progress. He remembered the fate of Ser Jory and fervently prayed he would not have to kill this man. The man looked up finally and accepted the cup. His eyes carried a haunted expression and it was all Aedan could do to keep his own gaze steady. The man drank, fell, choked and thrashed. He lived.

Delilah was next. Aedan looked to her and all the things he might say quickly rushed to his mind, but nothing could be voiced. She returned his gaze and her grey eyes were solemn and composed. She stood ready with a quiet resolve. He handed her the chalice. She drank. Her hands flew to her throat and she stared at Aedan in horror before her eyes rolled back and she dropped to the floor. Alistair immediately knelt beside her, feeling for a pulse. He looked up at Aedan and shook his head gently, his face filled with sorrow.

Aedan’s ears seemed to stop working and in a fog of silence he resolutely turned toward Kayley, trying not to notice Philippe come forward to help Alistair pick up Delilah’s limp form. Kayley’s eyes were wide with terror and her hands covered her mouth. She took a step back, but Jean was there, a hand to her elbow. He was talking to her, but Aedan could not hear what he said. His throat ached and his head was beginning to pound. Kayley tried to step back again and Jean moved with her, talking all the while. The elven girl turned to look at Aedan and he had no idea what she saw in his face, but it seemed to decide her. She reached for the cup. She lived.

There was one recruit left, Taren. The mage looked wan as Aedan finally faced him, but he did not hesitate. He stepped forward and took the chalice. He thrashed upon the floor for longer than any of the other recruits and Alistair and Philippe did what they could to protect his head from the hard stone. But his eyes rolled forward again and he finally coughed a shaky breath. He lived.

Aedan did not remember putting the cup on the stone table he was just suddenly not holding it anymore. He could barely hear Philippe welcome the surviving recruits. He felt he’d been struck dumb as well as deaf and his head felt oddly thick. Alistair and Jean handed out the pendants made from some of the blood, explaining their significance. The new wardens were then encouraged to rest for the rest of the day and to seek out one of the older wardens if they had any need.

Aedan had not moved for several minutes when Alistair tapped him lightly on the arm. He started and looked at his friend, then simply dropped to his knees on the stone floor, his head in his hands.

Modifié par Sisimka, 03 février 2010 - 01:52 .

[Freckles04]

I thought the Joining might be Delilah's doom. Poor girl. Poor Aedan. More guilt to wear.

[Sisimka]

I knew the minute I wrote her in to the story that she wouldn't be making the cut, but that didn't make it any easier to kill her. Took me about ten minutes to finish writing that one paragraph...

Modifié par Sisimka, 03 février 2010 - 02:09 .

[Sialater]

It's never easy to kill a character. I'm not sure why. Not like they're real....

[bl00dsh0t]

Epic chap, also commendable that you killed off a character you went to great lengths to develop. Well done! And as always: Moar

[Kulkodar]

Going away to contemplate. Very moving Sis. Thank you for sharing.

[Sisimka]

Thanks for all your kind comments on yesterday's post.  It was the hardest chapter to write and you're correct, Sialater, they become more than just words on a page somtimes.  I was kinda sad all day.   Here's a bit of a wrap up with some humour and closure.  Tomorrow's chapter will be named Joy - I think my companions are due for some, eh?

http://www.fanfictio...t/s/5701751/15/


Sorrow
 
Alistair and Zevran sat side by side in front of the huge hearth that dominated one end of the main hall. They each reclined in comfortable leather armchairs, their feet propped up on a low wooden bench before them. They each stared at the flames, lost in thought.

Ferelden had five new Grey Wardens. The Joining ceremony had taken on an unreal quality in Alistair’s mind. He had missed Duncan keenly during the ritual, but knew that his presence would not have changed the outcome. He had been in awe of Aedan’s outward composure throughout the Joining, not quite able to fathom what kept the man together following Delilah’s death. But when Aedan had dropped to his knees Alistair had seen a look on his face he recognized – the same look he’d had in that cell at Fort Drakon. He’d acted quickly, pulling Aedan back to his feet and talking to him, or at him for all the lack of comprehension he’d seen in those blank, staring eyes. He’d continued his stream of sometimes utter nonsense as he’d guided the Warden Commander to a stone bench set into the side of the pavilion. 

Alistair had worked at getting Aedan’s attention for around ten minutes, hoping the warrior would not shut down as he had after killing Howe, before Aedan’s eyes cleared and he had looked at him and said softly, “What in the Maker’s name are you talking about?”

Alistair halted his list of known types of cheese and said simply, “Aedan.”

“What have I done?”

“Your duty,” was all the answer Alistair had to give right then.

They had sat in silence a while until Philippe had returned for the second body, Delilah’s. Aedan had stood then and stopped the warden. He knelt himself to cradle her in his arms. The three men walked back to the estate, Philippe directing Aedan to where the other dead recruit had been set. Aedan set down her body, and then knelt beside the first recruit, paying his respects to the man. He then turned to Delilah and brushed a strand of hair from her still face. He let his hand rest on her forehead a while, his lips moving in quiet prayer, then rose to his feet.

“I’ll be in the chapel,” he had said quietly as he passed by them and Alistair had merely nodded. Aedan had never shown himself to be the excessively religious sort, but he did have a quiet devotion that Alistair respected. They had no members of the chantry at Amaranthine and the chapel would be deserted. He could think of no better place for Aedan to sort himself out.

Zevran’s voice brought him back to the present and he glanced at the elf saying, “Pardon?”

Zevran repeated himself, “The Warden Commander is not taking her death well. This…outcome was always a possibility, no?”

Alistair turned back to his study of the flames. Zevran did not know the details of the Joining ritual, he and Aedan had managed to keep some Grey Warden secrets despite Damien’s fears. But it was well known that not all survived the ceremony. He sighed and replied, “Yes. They both knew what they were doing…sometimes things just…”

“Fate is a harsh mistress.” Zevran supplied. They fell silent again.

They both looked up as Leliana entered the room. She stepped quickly toward them, her face anguished. She looked directly at Alistair and said, “What have you done to Aedan?” 

She threw herself into the chair opposite them and scrubbed at her face with her hands. When she looked up, her eyes were full of tears and she looked at Alistair with a pleading expression.

He tried, “Leliana, I can’t tell you about the Joining.”

She replied, “But two are dead and he sits in the chapel still as a stone, not making a sound!”

It was then Alistair realized that Aedan had not shared the identity of Delilah Howe with Leliana. He swallowed…what could he say? Zevran took the initiative.

“The female recruit, the one who…passed…was known to Aedan. They were childhood companions, I believe.”

Leliana replied with a small, “Oh.” But her mind was sharp and she immediately followed up with, “More than companions, I think…”

Zevran spread his hands and Alistair began to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Should they be having this conversation?

She was looking at him now and Alistair felt oddly pinned to his chair by the look in her eyes. “Is this why you kept me in Denerim?” she asked, her tone cold.

“What…no! He didn’t even know she was here when he left the city!”

Leliana was rubbing her face again, he’d not ever seen her so distraught and it brought to mind her preoccupied nature of late. Had she discovered news she was keeping from him?

Zevran surprised him then by hopping up and stepping across the hearth to kneel before Leliana’s chair, taking her pale hands in his and saying quietly, “Aedan would climb the Frostback Mountains barefoot for you, Leliana. I have rarely witnessed such loyalty in a man.”

The bard regarded the assassin and they took one another’s measure. Leliana answered quietly, “But six weeks, Zev, six weeks and no mention…”

Zevran replied, “My dear rogue, we all know what Aedan sounds like when in the throes of passion. Trust me; these halls were blessedly quiet until you arrived yesterday evening.”

Alistair nearly choked on shocked laughter. It was true! The companions had had so little privacy during their travels and tent walls were somewhat…insubstantial. In addition, both he and Zevran’s rooms here at the estate were adjacent to Aedan’s. There had been no doubt Aedan and Leliana had been getting reacquainted last night. Zevran cocked an eyebrow at him and shrugged lightly, adding “He is noisy in battle too, it is a warrior thing, I think.”

Zevran’s bluntness worked. Colour rose in Leliana’s cheeks and she clamped her mouth closed, lips tight, obviously fighting the same mirth Alistair had given way to. She pulled her hands from Zevran’s and rose to her feet. The elf stood with her, watching her intently. He cleared his throat and began, “It was not my intention to offend…”

But she cut him off with a small smile, “Zevran, I…thank you. For watching over him…and for being,” she paused, her head tilting a little to one side as she considered, “For being you.”

Leliana turned to Alistair and she said simply, “Forgive me, Alistair, I am not myself.” Leliana rarely called him by any other than his given name, it was something he’d come to appreciate greatly. It comforted him that she did not intend to stand on ceremony now. He had come to value their friendship.

Alistair rose also, feeling the need to dispel any lingering awkwardness. He said, “Leliana, his duty is a great burden and one he does not carry lightly. But Aedan is as strong a man as I have ever known. Don’t let his guilt consume him. When he is ready be there for him. He will need you.”

She nodded quietly and stepped away from them, turning toward the door. Philippe was standing in the doorway looking somewhat discomfited. He bowed formally to Leliana as she slipped by him and approached the hearth.

The Orlesian gestured toward the chair Leliana had vacated and Alistair nodded his assent before reclaiming his own seat. Zevran remained standing, one eyebrow raised and Philippe gestured the other chair, “Please, I do intend to divulge any Grey Warden secrets.”

Philippe turned to Alistair and said, “The Commander is taking the loss of this girl very personally.”

Alistair closed his eyes and sighed. Here we go again…

He turned to look at Zevran, appealing for help, but the elf merely smiled and returned his gaze as if to say, ‘your turn’. He turned to Philippe and said simply, “They were childhood friends.”

Understanding dawned on the Orlesian’s face and he responded with, “Ah…I had thought…” and he looked over his shoulder at the empty doorway.

Alistair hastily reiterated, “Friends. Aedan is an honourable man.”

Philippe surprised him by nodding quickly, “Yes, I believe he is.” He stopped, considered, and then continued, “Alistair…I did not know Duncan, but I knew him by reputation. I have been a warden for nearly fifteen years now. You and Aedan served his memory well today. A Joining is never…easy. I have witnessed several.”

Alistair nodded and replied, “Thank you, Philippe.” Then he added, “We were fortunate to have had our Brothers from Orlais with us today.”

Philippe acknowledged the thanks and continued with, “It is…good that he grieves in this way. We give up so much to become Grey Wardens, we should retain our humanity as long as is possible.”

Perhaps Aedan was right in this man’s change of heart after all, Alistair thought. The Orlesian was quiet a moment, his own thoughts inward, and then he went to stand up, bracing his hands on either arm of the deep leather chair. He bowed his head a little formally and said, “When the Commander is ready we should discuss Damien.” He strode quickly from the room.

Alistair turned to look at Zevran and was not surprised to see his own astonished expression reflected in the elf’s face.

                                                                                       --=0=--

Aedan was cold and began to wonder how long he’d been sitting in the dark, cool chapel. He’d ceased thinking about Delilah and the horror of the Joining some time ago and had let his mind wander over the events of the past sixteen months. It had been a long and terrible road he’d traveled and it appeared he was not yet done. He missed Wynne. Although her advice was not always what he wanted to hear, she had listened to him without judgment. Sometimes that was all that was necessary – the listening. He suddenly felt the need for action. He had no time to sit about in this dark chapel, there was too much to do. He stood, wincing at the stiffness of his back, and headed for the door.

Leliana was sitting just outside on a low stone bench and she rose quickly when she saw him. Her beautiful eyes were clouded with worry and she was holding his sword and dagger in her hands. He knew she’d sat by him in the chapel some time ago, but he couldn’t remember what she’d said and he instantly felt guilty for shutting her out. He tried a smile. He felt his face would crack and knew that he’d produced more of a grimace.

She held out his blades and said carefully, “I thought you might like some exercise.”

He considered a moment and then took his weapons from her with something that resembled a more natural smile. Yes, that was exactly what he needed and he looked at her wordlessly in thanks. He followed her through the courtyard and out into the practice field.

She pulled her own weapons from their sheaths and fell into an easy defensive posture across from him. He advanced gently and they crossed weapons, neither of them putting much power behind their blows. They moved through forms for a while, strike, parry, block, their rhythm and force increasing as their bodies warmed and they rediscovered each other’s style.

Aedan felt himself relaxing and a knot of tension between his shoulder blades slowly began to unwind. Then his mind wandered and he saw an axe instead of a sword and Delilah’s face laughing at him as she expertly deflected a blow. They had sparred together many times over the weeks. He faltered and slipped, missing a parry and felt the hilt of a sword bang his wrist. He winced and broke the routine. He looked up and it was Leliana’s face he saw, but it was wavering and he realized his eyes were full of tears. He turned his head to the side to hide his face, mortified by his own weakness. But Leliana moved with him and came to stand right before him. She reached to brush his cheek with her thumb, catching a tear and he tried to turn his head again. She placed a hand to either side of his face and stopped him.

“Aedan,” she said, “Alistair told me who she was. I’m so sorry…”

He looked into her eyes and saw the truth there. She did know and her expression held only love and compassion for him. He felt his shoulders slump as he whispered to her, “I killed her, as well as if it had been my own blade.”

She shook her head and replied, “You did not. It was her choice…I think she was very brave, and you should honour that.”

He blinked and lifted his hands to hers, pulling them from his face. He held them to his chest a moment before releasing them and slipping his arms around her shoulders. She rested her head against his chest and he rested his cheek atop her head and they simply stood together for a long time.

Afterwards they collected their weapons and headed back inside. Aedan felt more composed. He spent time with each new warden that afternoon. He pushed the burden of his guilt away for a while as he listened to them tell of their experience and welcomed four brothers and one sister as Grey Wardens.

Modifié par Sisimka, 04 février 2010 - 03:05 .

[Freckles04]

This was a nice recovery from the Joining. I'm still waiting for Aedan to reveal his secret to Leliana, though...the longer he waits the worse it will be. Silly man.

[Sisimka]

It's coming, it's coming. He has another surprise waiting for him first...I think. Haven't quite decided on this one yet. I'll see if writes itself into the chapter I'm working on or not, you know how it goes...

[TanithAeyrs]

very good. I like your handling of the Joining. will be waiting for more

[bl00dsh0t]

A great chap, nice revalations about the orlesian wardens not being completely heartless at least ;D MOAAARRRR xD

[Sisimka]

Thanks Tanith and Bloodshot, glad you liked it!

[Kulkodar]

Oh well done. Poor Aedan! His relationship with Leliana feels right, too. You've captured her personality quite well. Want more!!!