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peopleofthedas2011-02-27 06:26 pm
bamftastik) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-02-27 06:26 pm
No More Heroes, Chapter 7
Title: No More Heroes, Chapter 7
Characters: Leliana, Anders, Sten, Dog & Alistair (finally!)
Rating: T
Words: 2,200
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all. ~ Leliana and Anders arrive in Redcliff. ~
Previous chapters at the shiny, new series tag, yay!
"Well. There she is."
Stepping onto the ridge beside Anders, Leliana nodded. "It is beautiful."
"That's one way of looking at it. It's also stifling, lonely and full of templars." He smirked. "And so round. You can't imagine how dizzying it is to spend your whole life walking in circles."
She could not help but laugh. In the waning light, the distant Circle Tower stretched its shadow long across the waters, lending a strange and somber tint to the reflecting sunset reds. But her own eyes picked out a deeper shadow, hugging the nearer shore. Redcliff Castle had borne witness to many horrible things. Yet, somehow it was what they might find there now that sent shivers up her back.
"Though I do suppose it has a certain appeal, if you're into obvious metaphors..." He glanced sideways at her. "You do know what they say about mages, right?"
With a sigh, Leliana turned away, continuing along the path that would bring them round the lake's final bend.
Anders caught her arm. "You're practically dead on your feet. View like this, it might be a nice place to make camp."
"There is no need. We will be there in a matter of hours."
"Sure we will. In the dark. Possibly walking into a nest of darkspawn."
"You are afraid?"
"Of course not. Merely looking to spend another night beneath the stars with a beautiful woman." He grinned. "Or would you prefer me to be afraid? I can do that. You may need to comfort me, though."
Chuckling despite herself, Leliana stepped away, scouting along the side of the path. "Perhaps you have a point. About the darkspawn. Not the stars."
They made camp in a small clearing, sheltered on two sides by a bit of jutting rock. It would provide some measure of protection, but even if they took watches she doubted that she would get any true sleep. She had not slept for more than an hour at a time since Denerim. As Anders laid a low fire, she pulled the remains of the provisions that they had purchased from the dwarves from her pack.
Anders wrinkled his nose. "What I wouldn't give for a decent meal." But he smiled. "Not that I'm complaining about the company. And this place is almost cozy. Throw in a story and it might feel almost homey."
"A story?"
"It's what you do, isn't it? They say practicing a trade keeps a man happy... a woman too, I suppose."
Leliana arched a brow. "And do you have a trade?"
"Not as such." He waggled his fingers, smirking at the sparks that crackled cross his knuckles. After a moment, he nodded back toward the road. "So... this Alistair was born in Redcliff?"
She sighed. "His mother was a servant in the castle, fortunate enough to be granted a position beneath Arl Eamon's roof. She was—"
"You've told me plenty about your wayward templar. What I want to hear about is the other Warden."
Leliana blinked. "I told that story. In Haven."
"You told the story of her death. I get the feeling there's more to it than that."
Sitting back, she shook her head. "Why do you want to know?"
"You're working on something; I've heard you humming as we walk. Also, because you clearly don't want to talk about it."
"So it is your mission to irritate me?"
He grinned. "Maybe."
Staring into the flames for a long moment, Leliana shook her head. She let herself sag, sinking onto her back to stare up through the canopy. The stars were still there, unchanged despite all that had happened. They reminded her of the tale of Alindra, as they always did... but she could no longer see the beauty there.
The melody was borrowed, the same that she had sang in the early days of that long-ago journey, a song of comfort in times of mourning. But the words were different now, tinged with a sadness she could not describe, drying what little hope had carried on those familiar crescendos and resolutions.
Anders settled some distance away, propped on an elbow to look down at her. But Leliana kept her gaze to the stars. Her voice was trembling at first, quiet and unaccompanied, but with each meeting, each adventure, each bit of remembered laughter, it grew stronger. Laying there in the darkness her eyes began to sting, laying there she told him everything.
Silence hung when at last the tale was finished, broken only by her tired sigh.
"Hm. I see why you loved her."
She rolled onto her side, pillowing her head on her arm. "I... we were not..."
Anders smile was quiet as he sat up and folded his legs. "It's like gravity."
She must have made a face, for he laughed.
"Like calls to like. Did you even wonder why when you toss a feather into the air, it doesn't fall as fast as a stone? Because the stone is the same as the earth below it; it can't help it. It's the same reason fire always begets more fire, why nothing moves through the air so fast as the wind. All these companions that you mentioned, always with the Warden at their center... it seems like it's the same thing."
"We were hardly heroes."
"Are you certain of that? I've been following you on this mad quest for a while now and I've definitely spotted some heroic tendencies."
Leliana pushed herself into a sitting position. "And what about you? You travel with me."
"Oh, hardly. No, I've never been the hero type." He chuckled. "Though a Grey Warden... the Tower would never be able to touch me then. Oh, well."
"How do you know all of this anyway?"
"I'm a mage." He tapped the side of his head. "Known for our wisdom and all that. Also, we live in a big, boring Tower with nothing to do but hang about in a library."
"When you are not escaping."
He shrugged. "What can I say? Everyone needs a hobby."
Anders came to his feet and turned for his bedroll, but Leliana found herself standing with him. "Thank you for listening."
"And for painstakingly dragging the words out of you under threat of death?"
"And for that." Her eyes darted away. The silence seemed to turn heavy, the clearing suddenly close and warm. It was a familiar sensation, one that stirred both surprise and pain.
But Anders only chuckled. "Too bad, though. Here I thought you were flirting with me." He lay a fleeting kiss on her forehead, mumbling something about the first watch as he turned and disappeared into the trees.
* * *
She did not wake until well after first light. It was the smell of breakfast that finally reached her, of a bit of charred rabbit dangling an inch from her nose.
Crouching above her, Anders laughed. "So much for that early start."
She had slept. Blessed Andraste, she had slept.
They filled their bellies amidst jokes about mages learning to hunt and the benefits of instant cooking. But Redcliff waited still, the path beginning to slope down into the gorge that housed the town before the sun had reached its peak.
"Shouldn't we be heading for the castle? Considering we're hunting a sort-of royal?"
She shook her head. "Alistair was... reluctant about his blood at best. We should start with the town. Perhaps the people have seen something."
But nothing stirred in the square below; no scouts ran to greet them as they crossed the bridge. Pausing there, Leliana sighed. She could not say what she had expected, but the emptiness here was complete.
"Maybe we should ask that fellow there... that large, heavily armed..." Anders took a step back, hand straying to his staff as Leliana turned to follow his gaze.
Her jaw dropped. Before she knew it she was running, kicking up dust as Anders spluttered choking behind her. The hulking figure on the path below had only a moment to hold up a warning hand, but she ignored him utterly, throwing her arms around him with a desperate affection that she had forgotten she possessed. "Sten!"
The Qunari shifted uncomfortably but the hands on her shoulders were gentle, pushing her away with ease. On anyone else his expression would have been a fearful scowl, but she recognized the almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.
"Bloody—! I almost thought you were making up the bit about the gentle Qunari, but you're hugging him and he's not eating us so..."
Sten quirked a brow at Anders. "That can be rectified."
"Oh, I know you don't actually eat people. Who believes everything they read? I did think you had horns, though."
The big man turned away, grumbling to himself.
"Scraps!" Leliana spotted the dog then, but the mabari flattened its ears, skirting her outstretched hand. She supposed she and the warhound had never exactly been close, but it had always greeted her with a happy bark, had never shied from a good scratch behind the ears. Perhaps it was true what they said about mabari and their masters. She could imagine something of what it felt.
"Aw, it's cute."
Turning to Anders, it growled.
"Hm. Suppose it understood me? I mean it's... fearsome, terrifying really. Good dog."
Seemingly satisfied, it sniffed and began trotting up the hill. Sten made as if to follow.
"Sten? Where are you going?"
He scowled down at her hand on his arm, but his sigh was tired, defeated. "I am searching for the Grey Warden. He is not here."
"You are searching for Alistair?"
"It will take a Grey Warden to end the blight."
Leliana nodded. "I know. We are looking for him too. He was seen in the mountains near Haven, sheltered with the dwarves there. They said that he was returning home."
"He is not here."
"You do not think... that he returned to Denerim, do you?"
Sten grunted, motioning for them to follow as he made his way up the hill to the ruins of the inn. Stepping though the empty doorway, he gestured to a pile of tables, a sort of child's makeshift fort. There were worn blankets there, bones of game and empty bottles.
"He has been gone three days, perhaps four."
"I don't suppose there's any sign of which way he went?" Anders poked his head round behind them, but Sten paid him no mind.
Leliana crouched, turning a bottle over in her hands. "I do not understand it. This was his home; it would make sense from him to be here."
"But his home could be Denerim, right?" Anders shrugged. "I mean, he's the king isn't he?"
She shook her head. "He never wanted to be. He was born here, raised in the Chantry, but he never..."
The bottled slipped from her fingers.
"They were right. He did go home." Slowly, Leliana rose to her feet. "I know where he is."
* * *
Ostagar.
When last they had passed this way, snow had drifted deep between the ruins. Stopping now at their shadowed edge, Leliana felt her boots shift beneath her, the earth squelching with the last remnants of melting slush. There had been a strange cleanness here before, some small comfort gained from things left unseen. But the remains of that camp, that battle, were now laid bare, baking beneath the returned sun.
Burying her mouth in her sleeve, she turned her face away. The mabari had been the only one of them to leap ahead, darting between the pillars with an eager bark as they approached. But even the hound's certainty could not bring her comfort.
Slowly they picked their way forward, Sten silent and scowling, Anders' would-be jests drying on his tongue. Leliana tried to keep her eyes fixed ahead, but found that she could not. She let them roam, let them linger over men and darkspawn, over those others who could not be named. In this, at least, they would be remembered.
She did not know the paths they took – could not recognize them as the same that they had walked when She had led them – but soon enough they came to the bridge. What she saw there stopped her where she stood.
He sat with his back to them, one leg dangling over the edge of that ruined span. So skinny he seemed, lank and filthy hair hanging long to brush against his shoulders. But in the waning light she caught a glimpse of his profile, the tilt of his chin somehow strong even beneath the ragged beard. The hound sat beside him, lowering its hand as he scratched it idly behind an ear.
No, he had not remained in Redcliff. Nor had he returned to Denerim, to the throne that by rights was his. He had come here, to sit beside the pyre that they had lain for his brother, to watch over the bones of his companions, the only family that he had ever known.
As if sensing her gaze, Alistair turned to look at them. There was no surprise, no recognition in those eyes, but she knew now that he was real. Here the Grey Wardens had made their final stand; here was the last of their number… and the world's only hope.
Characters: Leliana, Anders, Sten, Dog & Alistair (finally!)
Rating: T
Words: 2,200
Summary: The Blight has not ended. Alistair departed during the Landsmeet and both Loghain and the Warden perished in the siege of Denerim. In its wake, the scattered companions undertake a search for a wandering drunk and the witch that could save them all. ~ Leliana and Anders arrive in Redcliff. ~
Previous chapters at the shiny, new series tag, yay!
"Well. There she is."
Stepping onto the ridge beside Anders, Leliana nodded. "It is beautiful."
"That's one way of looking at it. It's also stifling, lonely and full of templars." He smirked. "And so round. You can't imagine how dizzying it is to spend your whole life walking in circles."
She could not help but laugh. In the waning light, the distant Circle Tower stretched its shadow long across the waters, lending a strange and somber tint to the reflecting sunset reds. But her own eyes picked out a deeper shadow, hugging the nearer shore. Redcliff Castle had borne witness to many horrible things. Yet, somehow it was what they might find there now that sent shivers up her back.
"Though I do suppose it has a certain appeal, if you're into obvious metaphors..." He glanced sideways at her. "You do know what they say about mages, right?"
With a sigh, Leliana turned away, continuing along the path that would bring them round the lake's final bend.
Anders caught her arm. "You're practically dead on your feet. View like this, it might be a nice place to make camp."
"There is no need. We will be there in a matter of hours."
"Sure we will. In the dark. Possibly walking into a nest of darkspawn."
"You are afraid?"
"Of course not. Merely looking to spend another night beneath the stars with a beautiful woman." He grinned. "Or would you prefer me to be afraid? I can do that. You may need to comfort me, though."
Chuckling despite herself, Leliana stepped away, scouting along the side of the path. "Perhaps you have a point. About the darkspawn. Not the stars."
They made camp in a small clearing, sheltered on two sides by a bit of jutting rock. It would provide some measure of protection, but even if they took watches she doubted that she would get any true sleep. She had not slept for more than an hour at a time since Denerim. As Anders laid a low fire, she pulled the remains of the provisions that they had purchased from the dwarves from her pack.
Anders wrinkled his nose. "What I wouldn't give for a decent meal." But he smiled. "Not that I'm complaining about the company. And this place is almost cozy. Throw in a story and it might feel almost homey."
"A story?"
"It's what you do, isn't it? They say practicing a trade keeps a man happy... a woman too, I suppose."
Leliana arched a brow. "And do you have a trade?"
"Not as such." He waggled his fingers, smirking at the sparks that crackled cross his knuckles. After a moment, he nodded back toward the road. "So... this Alistair was born in Redcliff?"
She sighed. "His mother was a servant in the castle, fortunate enough to be granted a position beneath Arl Eamon's roof. She was—"
"You've told me plenty about your wayward templar. What I want to hear about is the other Warden."
Leliana blinked. "I told that story. In Haven."
"You told the story of her death. I get the feeling there's more to it than that."
Sitting back, she shook her head. "Why do you want to know?"
"You're working on something; I've heard you humming as we walk. Also, because you clearly don't want to talk about it."
"So it is your mission to irritate me?"
He grinned. "Maybe."
Staring into the flames for a long moment, Leliana shook her head. She let herself sag, sinking onto her back to stare up through the canopy. The stars were still there, unchanged despite all that had happened. They reminded her of the tale of Alindra, as they always did... but she could no longer see the beauty there.
The melody was borrowed, the same that she had sang in the early days of that long-ago journey, a song of comfort in times of mourning. But the words were different now, tinged with a sadness she could not describe, drying what little hope had carried on those familiar crescendos and resolutions.
Anders settled some distance away, propped on an elbow to look down at her. But Leliana kept her gaze to the stars. Her voice was trembling at first, quiet and unaccompanied, but with each meeting, each adventure, each bit of remembered laughter, it grew stronger. Laying there in the darkness her eyes began to sting, laying there she told him everything.
Silence hung when at last the tale was finished, broken only by her tired sigh.
"Hm. I see why you loved her."
She rolled onto her side, pillowing her head on her arm. "I... we were not..."
Anders smile was quiet as he sat up and folded his legs. "It's like gravity."
She must have made a face, for he laughed.
"Like calls to like. Did you even wonder why when you toss a feather into the air, it doesn't fall as fast as a stone? Because the stone is the same as the earth below it; it can't help it. It's the same reason fire always begets more fire, why nothing moves through the air so fast as the wind. All these companions that you mentioned, always with the Warden at their center... it seems like it's the same thing."
"We were hardly heroes."
"Are you certain of that? I've been following you on this mad quest for a while now and I've definitely spotted some heroic tendencies."
Leliana pushed herself into a sitting position. "And what about you? You travel with me."
"Oh, hardly. No, I've never been the hero type." He chuckled. "Though a Grey Warden... the Tower would never be able to touch me then. Oh, well."
"How do you know all of this anyway?"
"I'm a mage." He tapped the side of his head. "Known for our wisdom and all that. Also, we live in a big, boring Tower with nothing to do but hang about in a library."
"When you are not escaping."
He shrugged. "What can I say? Everyone needs a hobby."
Anders came to his feet and turned for his bedroll, but Leliana found herself standing with him. "Thank you for listening."
"And for painstakingly dragging the words out of you under threat of death?"
"And for that." Her eyes darted away. The silence seemed to turn heavy, the clearing suddenly close and warm. It was a familiar sensation, one that stirred both surprise and pain.
But Anders only chuckled. "Too bad, though. Here I thought you were flirting with me." He lay a fleeting kiss on her forehead, mumbling something about the first watch as he turned and disappeared into the trees.
She did not wake until well after first light. It was the smell of breakfast that finally reached her, of a bit of charred rabbit dangling an inch from her nose.
Crouching above her, Anders laughed. "So much for that early start."
She had slept. Blessed Andraste, she had slept.
They filled their bellies amidst jokes about mages learning to hunt and the benefits of instant cooking. But Redcliff waited still, the path beginning to slope down into the gorge that housed the town before the sun had reached its peak.
"Shouldn't we be heading for the castle? Considering we're hunting a sort-of royal?"
She shook her head. "Alistair was... reluctant about his blood at best. We should start with the town. Perhaps the people have seen something."
But nothing stirred in the square below; no scouts ran to greet them as they crossed the bridge. Pausing there, Leliana sighed. She could not say what she had expected, but the emptiness here was complete.
"Maybe we should ask that fellow there... that large, heavily armed..." Anders took a step back, hand straying to his staff as Leliana turned to follow his gaze.
Her jaw dropped. Before she knew it she was running, kicking up dust as Anders spluttered choking behind her. The hulking figure on the path below had only a moment to hold up a warning hand, but she ignored him utterly, throwing her arms around him with a desperate affection that she had forgotten she possessed. "Sten!"
The Qunari shifted uncomfortably but the hands on her shoulders were gentle, pushing her away with ease. On anyone else his expression would have been a fearful scowl, but she recognized the almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips.
"Bloody—! I almost thought you were making up the bit about the gentle Qunari, but you're hugging him and he's not eating us so..."
Sten quirked a brow at Anders. "That can be rectified."
"Oh, I know you don't actually eat people. Who believes everything they read? I did think you had horns, though."
The big man turned away, grumbling to himself.
"Scraps!" Leliana spotted the dog then, but the mabari flattened its ears, skirting her outstretched hand. She supposed she and the warhound had never exactly been close, but it had always greeted her with a happy bark, had never shied from a good scratch behind the ears. Perhaps it was true what they said about mabari and their masters. She could imagine something of what it felt.
"Aw, it's cute."
Turning to Anders, it growled.
"Hm. Suppose it understood me? I mean it's... fearsome, terrifying really. Good dog."
Seemingly satisfied, it sniffed and began trotting up the hill. Sten made as if to follow.
"Sten? Where are you going?"
He scowled down at her hand on his arm, but his sigh was tired, defeated. "I am searching for the Grey Warden. He is not here."
"You are searching for Alistair?"
"It will take a Grey Warden to end the blight."
Leliana nodded. "I know. We are looking for him too. He was seen in the mountains near Haven, sheltered with the dwarves there. They said that he was returning home."
"He is not here."
"You do not think... that he returned to Denerim, do you?"
Sten grunted, motioning for them to follow as he made his way up the hill to the ruins of the inn. Stepping though the empty doorway, he gestured to a pile of tables, a sort of child's makeshift fort. There were worn blankets there, bones of game and empty bottles.
"He has been gone three days, perhaps four."
"I don't suppose there's any sign of which way he went?" Anders poked his head round behind them, but Sten paid him no mind.
Leliana crouched, turning a bottle over in her hands. "I do not understand it. This was his home; it would make sense from him to be here."
"But his home could be Denerim, right?" Anders shrugged. "I mean, he's the king isn't he?"
She shook her head. "He never wanted to be. He was born here, raised in the Chantry, but he never..."
The bottled slipped from her fingers.
"They were right. He did go home." Slowly, Leliana rose to her feet. "I know where he is."
Ostagar.
When last they had passed this way, snow had drifted deep between the ruins. Stopping now at their shadowed edge, Leliana felt her boots shift beneath her, the earth squelching with the last remnants of melting slush. There had been a strange cleanness here before, some small comfort gained from things left unseen. But the remains of that camp, that battle, were now laid bare, baking beneath the returned sun.
Burying her mouth in her sleeve, she turned her face away. The mabari had been the only one of them to leap ahead, darting between the pillars with an eager bark as they approached. But even the hound's certainty could not bring her comfort.
Slowly they picked their way forward, Sten silent and scowling, Anders' would-be jests drying on his tongue. Leliana tried to keep her eyes fixed ahead, but found that she could not. She let them roam, let them linger over men and darkspawn, over those others who could not be named. In this, at least, they would be remembered.
She did not know the paths they took – could not recognize them as the same that they had walked when She had led them – but soon enough they came to the bridge. What she saw there stopped her where she stood.
He sat with his back to them, one leg dangling over the edge of that ruined span. So skinny he seemed, lank and filthy hair hanging long to brush against his shoulders. But in the waning light she caught a glimpse of his profile, the tilt of his chin somehow strong even beneath the ragged beard. The hound sat beside him, lowering its hand as he scratched it idly behind an ear.
No, he had not remained in Redcliff. Nor had he returned to Denerim, to the throne that by rights was his. He had come here, to sit beside the pyre that they had lain for his brother, to watch over the bones of his companions, the only family that he had ever known.
As if sensing her gaze, Alistair turned to look at them. There was no surprise, no recognition in those eyes, but she knew now that he was real. Here the Grey Wardens had made their final stand; here was the last of their number… and the world's only hope.