This was another tough, yet overall fun, chapter to write. Only one more to go after this.
Chapter Eleven - Mid Winter
Holding another’s hand: an open and warm action, yet less intimate than other deeds. No matter what life threw at Leliana and Legam, they always found affirmation and comfort in this simple statement of affection. Their clasped fingers spoke words their mouths could not. In times of stress, a gentle squeeze promised,
“I’m here for you.” When walking about, whether in Denerim’s back alleys or wild forests, their lazily swinging hands said, “
Where you go, I follow.” And while enveloped in the ecstasy of lovemaking, their threaded fingers mirrored their entwined bodies, vowing, “
I only bare my soul with you.”
~*~*~
When Legam traveled to Amaranthine to rebuild the Wardens, Leliana followed close behind. And when the Grey Wardens named Legam Commander of their order in the region (much to the mage’s dismay), Leliana quietly clasped his hand, her hold affirming her support and confidence in his abilities.
The night of his promotion, Legam stood atop a small cliff face, surveying the moonlit lands below. Though Leliana’s quiet footsteps escaped his hearing, the mage sensed her presence as she drew near. His eyes remained focused on the horizon, the bard stepping into place beside him. Leliana silently followed his gaze, slipping her fingers through his. Her other hand stroked his arm gently, and she leaned her head against his shoulder. By now, Leliana read Legam’s moods well enough to know when to let him speak first.
They stood in silence for several minutes, the chill night air blowing her ginger hair and ruffling his robes. After releasing a long sigh, Legam spoke, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Command the Wardens?” Leliana clarified. She felt him nod. “Legam, you gathered armies, stopped a civil war, restored Maric’s son to the throne, fought hordes of darkspawn, and slaughtered an archdemon. And that was just in the past three years!”
He smiled grimly, “You forgot the fifteen years prior I spent practically secluded in a tower, frittering away my days reading and sitting on my arse.” The mage patted his slightly paunchy belly, “And I have the gut to prove it.”
Leliana chuckled, grabbing his hand and coaxing it back down to his side. She turned to stand face-to-face with the Rivaini man, looking up into his eyes. “You suffered two traumatic experiences – in close succession – and emerged to unite nine strangers against impossible odds. You earned their trust – and love –” the Orlesian pecked his cheek affectionately for emphasis, “– by your will and conviction.”
“But I faltered. Sometimes, the only things keeping me going were Wynne’s council and your support.” He sighed again.
“Well, Wynne may not travel with us anymore, but what do you think I am trying to do right now?” Still clasping his hand, she bopped the mage’s chest half-playfully.
“Mm. I suppose you have a point. I might just get by with my own personal minstrel singing my praises.” Legam cracked a small grin.
Leliana stuck out the tip of her tongue, teasing. “Own personal minstrel? Does this mean I must compose ballads of your epic accomplishments, then?”
“I’m fairly certain you’ve already done so, without my prodding.” Legam reminded her.
She shrugged. “True, but I’d best keep it to a minimum, lest your ego get carried away.”
“My ego?” He laughed, “Weren’t just trying to
raise my self-esteem a moment ago?”
The bard tapped his nose. “Yes, but a good leader carries a healthy dose of humility along with competence.” She giggled when he reflexively wrinkled his nose, but soon turned serious again, “All jesting aside… I have faith in your abilities. Maker only knows why you continue to doubt yourself, when you carry an impressive track record.”
Legam hugged her close, still playful, “Perhaps I do it just to hear you flatter me.”
Leliana shook her head, “Sneaky boy. No more flattery for you now though, as I see your mood’s lifted.”
Her arcane lover laughed once more, taking both her hands in his and kissing the bard’s forehead. “Most definitely.” The mage squeezed her fingers appreciatively, “Thank you, Leliana.”
She responded simply by returning his affectionate squeeze.
~*~*~
Alistair paced back and forth in his guest chambers at the Redcliffe estate. Ferelden’s king often escaped quietly to Redcliffe whenever it became too difficult to avoid heated politics in Denerim. While he let Anora handle most of the actual governing, sometimes duty and tradition required his input. Recent events relating to the city’s elves left the political landscape rather… Uncomfortable.
Now hidden away from all the bannorn’s squabbling and bickering, he could think more clearly. He did not muse alone, however. The former Warden paced in the presence of two old friends, both sitting together at a small table usually reserved for eating or reading. They watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak first.
Heaving a great sigh, Alistair finally spoke, “Did I do the right thing?” he asked.
His mage comrade leaned forward, pushing weight onto his staff; “About the alienage?” he clarified, snorting when Alistair nodded, “Alistair, you were with us when we investigated the plague there. Even without the pestilence and the Blight, it’s in an abysmal shape.”
The redheaded bard beside him nodded, leaning on the table and propping her face against her fist, “Legam’s right. What Denerim’s elves have to live through every day is a crime against humanity.” She paused, pondering her wording, “Well, perhaps not humanity, but you know –”
“Yes, Leliana,” Alistair sighed, in no mood for one of her digressions, “I know what you meant. It isn’t right for humans to treat elves that way. They deserve better.”
“Exactly. And making Shianni a member of your personal court is a huge step in giving them a real chance to improve their lives.” Legam reminded, tapping his staff against the floor.
“And appropriating a portion of last year’s crop taxes towards improved housing in the alienage is another great leap,” Leliana added.
Alistair grumbled, running a hand through his strawberry blond hair. “And I keep telling myself those were good, but now I’ve gone and pissed off half the bannorn. Anora’s a bit cross over the mess, too… Though I think it’s because she hates cleaning up after my messes.” He bit his lip, “See, this is why I usually just let her run the show. She’s much better at this ‘governing’ stuff than I am.”
“Bah, ****** on the bannorn,” Legam scowled – unfortunately, a more and more common expression he bore these days when discussing Ferelden politics. “Half of them are just short-sighted fools who let tradition and passive racism blind them to progression. Sad to say, but most social improvements don’t come smoothly.” The mage frowned, stroking his beard.
Leliana glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. She knew that look – Legam pondered about the dwarves again. During the Blight, siding with the honorable Harrowmont seemed like the right choice. For all his honor, however, the old man’s strict conservative leanings had left Orzammar stagnant and in recession. Bhelen, despite his questionable tactics, sought reform for his people – and perhaps he might have succeeded in such. Unfortunately, Legam learned this information far after the Aeducan prince’s demise. Ever since Harrowmont’s death months ago and the news of the struggling state of Orzammar, the mage regretted his involvement with their power struggles and the results of his good-intentioned meddling.
Legam shook his head, obviously brushing aside those thoughts. Good. Leliana grew tired of dragging him out of his constant worrying sometimes. That the mage could do it on his own more often was a good sign.
Tapping his staff on the stone floor again, the Rivaini mage continued, “I know you dislike confrontation, Alistair – I still hate it, myself, but… I think with some important issues like these, you need to put your foot down. Letting Anora run things from day-to-day is fine; she’s a competent and, for the most part, a just ruler. But you’re on that throne too, and I didn’t just prop you up there half-arsed. You have a strong sense of justice and duty.” Legam narrowed his green eyes, “I expect you to put them to use more often than just the occasional mingling with the common folk. You’ve been on the throne for a few years now. Make that familiarity and understanding
count for something, dammit.”
Time to drive the point home while lightening the air with jest. Leliana cut in, “Best listen to your Warden Commander, else he might turn you into a toad.”
The two men chuckled, relaxing a little, “Mn. I’d rather not have that. I thought my fears of toad transformations were over when Morrigan snuck off.” Alistair rubbed his neck. “You’re right, you’re right… I need to dig my heels in more.”
“Why don’t you bring Shianni with you next time the topic is debated amongst the bannorn?” Leliana grinned, “We know she’s not afraid to speak up for herself and the elves.”
Alistair’s second laugh rang louder than his earlier chortle. “That is rather an understatement.” His smile softened, appreciative. “Thanks you two. I knew there was a reason I still call on you.”
Legam stood, knowing their meeting drew to an end, “Any time, my friend.” He embraced the other man, patting him on the back before pulling away. “And again –” the mage grinned sheepishly as Leliana took her turn to hug Alistair, “I apologize for making you king.”
“And I never get tired of hearing it.” Alistair smirked, then cleared his throat. “Well, I’m sure you’re both busy. You should probably find Zevran and Benjamin before they terrorize the household. Last time you left them alone here, didn’t Schmooples nearly end up in the cook’s stew pot?”
Leliana scowled, “Ugh, don’t remind me. Poor Schmooples wouldn’t go near vegetables for almost a week, he was so frightened.” She took hold of Legam’s free hand, tugging it, “Come, let’s make sure they’re not causing another ruckus.”
Legam chuckled, letting Leliana lead him out of the room. He turned back to Alistair once more, raising his staff slightly in farewell.
The king waved back, shaking his head. Only that couple could turn his mind from a serious political dilemma to jest in such a short time. Watching them turn the corner hand-in-hand, he hoped that never changed.
~*~*~
Leliana shivered, wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the wind biting at her exposed face and fingers. Its chillier temperature reminded the bard winter lay only a few weeks away. She shrugged, ignoring the cold beyond the thought – her attention focused elsewhere. Currently, she stood atop a grassy hill, overlooking the sunset and the outline of the village below. Sparse and still under some reconstruction, Leliana nonetheless knew the place well. After all, she spent two life changing years at its old Chantry: Lothering.
During the Blight, the darkspawn had overrun the small village, slaughtering all unfortunates unable to leave in time. Thankfully, many of its former residents and refugees did escape, and returned a year later to begin rebuilding. The new Lothering housed only a few homes, a tavern barely the size of Dane’s Refuge, and a new Chantry.
The Chantry. It still impressed Leliana the townsfolk managed to reconstruct it quite close to the original, especially since the darkspawn burned it to the ground in their raid. From what she heard, it was the very first thing they revived, along with the tavern. She supposed that made sense – chantries were often places of shelter, of faith. Building it back up first probably boosted morale.
Sighing, Leliana closed her eyes, focusing on the faint melodies of the Chant emanating from the temple. She smiled softly, recalling her days of peace and contemplation as a lay sister. One that she left to help Legam and Alistair against the Blight. The bard opened her eyes again, pursing her lips. Why had Legam brought them here, anyway? Though the mage had left the Wardens in any official capacity earlier in the year, it seemed their little group always wandered about on affairs of state or informal inspections of Ferelden’s reviving countryside.
She understood needing to stop for the night, but there were several towns less out of their way than Lothering. Not to mention with the village so close by, it made more sense to stay at the tavern or Chantry, rather than rough it. But Legam insisted they camp near this hill. Zevran had shrugged, helping the mage unload while Benjamin trotted off into the woods, likely looking for small game. Though the Mabari often left his kills too tarnished to salvage much meat, at least the Antivan’s cooking was better than Alistair’s.
“Zevran’s almost finished with dinner,” Legam’s soft voice shook Leliana from her musings, startling her a bit. She turned, spotting the mage walking up beside her.
“You’ve gotten a lot quieter when you move.”
Legam chuckled, “Hardly. I still make a lot of noise. You were simply distracted. Something on your mind, my dear? Besides wondering if Schmooples got his dinner – he did.” He winked teasingly, leaning against his staff.
Leliana rolled her eyes, but grinned nonetheless, “Thank you for that, but no… I am not concerned about my nug’s food supply at the moment.” She shrugged, “I was simply wondering why we’re here, and why we don’t just stay in town when we’re so close.”
Legam shifted his weight from foot to foot, indicating some degree of nervousness. His voice remained deceptively steady, “Hm. I suppose it does seem odd. I do have my reasons, though.” The mage altered his balance again, standing up straighter. “Five years ago the darkspawn ravaged this village. I thought it would be… encouraging… to see it in its early stages of rebirth. It’s good to see the country healing after all the devastation.”
“True. It’s reassuring to see reminders that we’re actually making a difference, yes?” Leliana agreed, “But… Could we not see such things better if we walked into town?”
“We could see the details, yes,” Legam conceded, “However, from a distance I think there’s a better…” He gestured his arms apart, motioning to the expanse of Lothering, “… Perspective of it as a whole if we see it from a distance. This hill offers a good view.”
“Another good point.” Leliana nodded, then raised an eyebrow, “And I gather that you have another?”
To this, Legam rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Well… It’s rather sentimental, isn’t it?”
Her eyebrow rose higher, appearing to almost disappear into her hairline, “Sentimental?”
Legam bit his lip, thinking, “Well, aside from you spending two years of your life here…” He looked over at the new tavern, falling quiet. Leliana noticed a faint blush spread across his cheeks. He coughed to clear his throat, careful to keep his gaze on Lothering and not the woman beside him. “It’s… Hrm. It’s where we first met. Hardly under ideal circumstances mind you, but… Places like that tend to hold a special meaning in some way, don’t they?”
An amused, touched smile spread across Leliana’s face. “I suppose it does. That’s very sweet of you to think about such, Legam. But I wonder… What brought this train of thought on?”
Legam turned to her, snapping and pointing his fingers as if remembering a long-forgotten detail, “And that brings about my final reason. We–”
Whatever the former Warden intended to say next never came, for a startled squirrel dashed underneath the mage’s robes, breaking him out of his thoughts. “What–?”
Again nature interrupted the mage. Likely pursuing the fleeing squirrel, Benjamin bounded into the clearing, plowing straight into the back of Legam’s legs. Knocked off his feet, the Rivaini man fell forward, slamming into the side of the hill.
Leliana tried to pull him back up, but momentum kept him moving out of her reach. She cringed, biting her lip as she watched the mage tumble downhill, crashing through brambles and underbrush until he finally came to a stop at the bottom. The bard covered her mouth with her hands, horrified.
Realizing what happened, Benjamin flattened his ears, whining apologetically as he followed the Orlesian’s gaze to spot Legam’s curled up form dozens of feet below them.
Biting her lip again, concerned, Leliana broke the awkward silence, “Legam… Are you all right?”
A low, agonized groan responded from below. “Bad… dog…” it wheezed – pained, but otherwise intact, “Very… bad… dog…” Benjamin whined dejectedly in response, while Leliana put a hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief.
An hour and several limping steps later, the group reached Lothering’s Chantry. Legam’s fall injured his left leg enough that he couldn’t walk on it, and resorted to leaning on Leliana and Zevran for support. To the elf’s credit, he quickly dashed to Legam’s aid once Leliana informed him of the accident. The entire trip, however, consisted of his laughter once the situation was explained in full detail.
They entered the rebuilt temple and were led to a small room reserved for the town’s sick and injured. An examination by the sisters revealed what the three friends already suspected – a sprained ankle, plus some bruises and small cuts. The priests bandaged what injuries required tending, and offered Legam a spare bed to recuperate over the next few days. They extended the invitation to the others, though Zevran politely declined.
“Your offer is most kind, sisters,” he said, “but it has been some time since I have enjoyed a good drink. I think I shall stay at the tavern, at least for tonight.”
“As you wish,” a younger sister nodded, “The Chantry is always open if you change your mind.” She and her fellow priests departed.
Stretching and grinning, Zevran turned to the bedridden Legam.
“I swear, my friend,” the Antivan assassin grinned, looking at his male comrade, “The Maker does so enjoy making your life interesting, does he not?”
“I do tend to receive curses and blessings in equal, rotating measure,” Legam grumbled. “But I try to focus on the blessings more.”
His friend chuckled, shaking his head, “Well, unless you need something, I shall head out to the tavern.” The elf looked down at the mabari, “Do you wish to accompany me?”
Benjamin looked to Legam, eyes pleading. The mage chuckled.
“It’s all right. I know it was an accident. You don’t have to stick by me all night. Go with Zevran and enjoy some extra table scraps.”
The dog barked, wagging his tail happily.
“See you two in the morning, then. Don’t let any assassins creep up on you, now. Unless they’re me, of course.” Zevran grinned, retreating from the room with Benjamin.
Leliana shook her head, scratching Schmooples behind the ear as she turned to face Legam, “I just hope those two don’t inadvertently destroy the tavern.”
“Eh, I think we can chance a night or two without supervising them.” Legam snickered, “Otherwise, how can they grow up and become big boys?”
The bard laughed. “I suppose so.” She paused, running a hand through her hair, “So, how are you feeling?”
“Sore, but otherwise fine.” Legam shrugged. “It makes me miss Wynne all the more, but I’ve endured far worse injuries than this. My dignity’s the only thing that might never recover.”
Leliana grinned, patting his hand reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Your dignity too has suffered much over the years. I’m sure it’s quite resilient.”
He laughed, then held his side painfully, “Ow…” The mage sighed, leaning the back of his head into his pillow and running a hand over his forehead and through his hair. “This is not how I wanted today to go.”
“Well, I’m fairly certain nobody
wants to fall down a hill and sprain their ankle.”
“Funny.” He smirked a little, hand dropping back to his side. “But I meant… Oh, nevermind.”
She leaned forward in her chair, causing Schmooples to squeak in protest, hopping off her lap, “What’s wrong? Is this about our interrupted conversation? You can finish what you meant to say, if you wish.”
Legam bit his lip, thinking, “Well, it’s just that this isn’t really…” He sighed again, looking up at the ceiling. Contemplating it for a moment, he smiled slowly, shaking his head. “Then again, maybe it’s just as appropriate here, considering.”
Leliana raised an eyebrow, wondering perhaps if his fall had rattled his brain a little – he wasn’t making much sense. Still, she waited for him to continue.
“We’ve traveled together for many years now,” Leliana noticed he continued to focus on the ceiling, and not on her. Her eyebrow rose.
“We’ve been through countless adventures and dangers – several as grand as your favorite tales. We’ve become great friends and more…” His hand covered hers, though Legam still kept his gaze averted from the bard’s. “Like many couples and old friends, we have our share of squabbles, and sometimes you frustrate me so much I can’t think straight.”
Leliana smiled sheepishly at this. Even Legam had limits to withstanding her chattiness. Once in a while she simply did not have the patience to deal with his brooding. And sometimes they broke out into argument when they could not agree to disagree. Thankfully, these moments were few and far between – a point which the mage made next.
“But, for each of those frustrating moments, there are ten more where you keep my head on straight, bolster my confidence so that I know I can deal with the burdens of my duties.” He turned to meet her eyes, “Yet at the same time, you remind me I’m only human, and don’t let my faults or errors rule my life after difficult decisions.”
The mage broke his gaze to look down, moving his free hand to a pouch tied to his belt. Opening it, he reached inside and pulled a closed fist out, hiding the contents. His eyes focused on his hand as he continued, “There’s no one else I can think of to remain at my side for the rest of my days – however many or few they may be – and I thought, well… Maybe we could make sentiments like that more…” His cheeks tinged pink and he coughed. Legam opened his hand to reveal a simple, elegant ring with a small polished topaz stone set in the center. “… Official?”
Leliana stared at the jewelry, the reality and weight of his proposal slowly settling in.
Nervous at her silence, Legam began rambling, “I mean, I know people generally only get married to unite families and produce children, and the taint ensures I’m practically sterile but I figure the gesture is more symbolic than traditional so if you don’t want to do it I perfectly understa– ”
Her lips pressed against his, cutting off his blabbering.
When she pulled away several moments later, Legam grinned stupidly, breathless and quite pleased. “I suppose I should take that as a ‘yes,’ then?”
Leliana giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him once more in reply.
~*~*~
The next years saw many more worries, struggles, and heartache for the mage and his bard. Though Legam officially left the Grey Warden order, he continued battling darkspawn when they crossed paths. Helping rebuild Ferelden and the Circle kept them quite busy, and they watched many friends come and go. Through it all, Leliana remained by his side, if not always physically, then in heart. Duty sometimes kept the couple separated for days, weeks… A few times even months. Yet they always returned to one another, ever supportive, ever imperfect, yet ever content despite whatever woes plagued them.
Legam contemplated this as he sat at his desk late in the night – one of the few moments in the day he spared for only himself. He looked down at his notes – diagrams and equations on the combustible properties of marsh flora. Something about controlled heat to isolate active reagents or whatnot. He didn’t remember the precise reasons as sleepiness began to gnaw at him. Legam pushed the papers aside, deciding to ponder the advantages of burning things tomorrow. The mage rubbed his temple, fingers brushing past the growing grey streak in his otherwise dark hair.
He craned his neck, looking over at his bed and to his peacefully slumbering wife. Normally they turned in for the day together, but sometimes the bard succumbed to sleep before he finished his personal work. Legam smiled, watching her dream. Though well into middle age, Leliana remained lovely.
The few wrinkles that inevitably formed from aging only complimented her, he felt. Despite their years of pressing concerns, her lines attesting to laughter and smiles far outnumbered signs of stress. He chuckled a bit, knowing his own face bore more than a few worry lines. Streaks of grey patterned her once completely red locks, which now fell to her shoulders. Leliana claimed that as much as she missed waist-length hair from her days in Orlais, she didn’t have the time to maintain anything longer than what she currently kept.
Thirty years. This spring marked three long decades since they first crossed paths to fight against the Blight. Sometimes Legam felt as though twice that amount passed, but at others he pondered how three decades managed to slip by so quickly. He frowned a little, wondering how many more years the taint would grant him. So far, his health remained good for a slightly overweight, often overworked man of his age. And no darkspawn dreams yet returned when he slept. In fact, he suffered no taint-driven nightmares since the year or so after the Blight ended. Good signs, but ones that could change abruptly.
Legam sighed, standing up. No use in worrying about that right now. He stretched and blew out the candle on his desk. Already in his nightclothes and well-versed in navigating his room in the dark, the mage crawled into bed beside his wife. Leliana stirred slightly, his movements breaking her out of her slumber, if only a little. Eyes still shut, she mumbled an incoherent question.
The mage wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against him. Resting his head against her shoulder, Legam pecked her on the neck affectionately.
“Sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you, Leli. Just go back to sleep.” She mumbled again, the slurring of her words showing she was already taking his advice. Legam smiled warmly, his eyelids drooping. No, now was certainly not a time to stress about the taint. Whatever little time he had left, he should enjoy each moment of it – especially the simple pleasures such as falling into a good night’s sleep with his beloved bard in his arms.
At that thought, slumber claimed him completely, his smile remaining and his uncertainties pushed aside for another day.
Retour en haut
I don't mind. I know it's not perfect (as I and others have already commented on elsewhere, the early chapters rely too much on game dialogue - thankfully I got better about that), but since I put so much time and work into it, it's good to be reminded/told there are people who enjoy it. 
