There and Back - Chapter 111

[elyssacousland]

Chapter One Hundred Eleven: Overload

My nose started pouring blood as I picked up the mana of the fourth emissary. My vision went blurry, my balance was off, and I started to sway unsteadily on my feet. One more, Sierra. Just one more. Not that I had any idea what I’d do with the general once the emissaries were subdued, but I could only take it a step at a time.

I spent a moment trying to adjust to the flood of mana, removing my helmet and gripping my nose to stem the bleeding, before reaching out once again. I was so distracted by my headache as I stripped the last emissary that I didn’t feel the change, didn’t notice what was happening with the darkspawn around me. I was completely oblivious to the approach of the general, who’d clearly been watching the horde move around me and had deduced my location.

I looked up just in time to see an axe descending towards me, with not enough time to dodge, and I closed my eyes in resignation. I’m going to die on this God-forsaken hill. I’m sorry, Alistair. But the blow never came, and I opened my eyes again as a sword deflected the axe away from me.

I was roughly shoved aside by an armoured figure, and fell on my ass - between the pressure in my head and the push, I completely lost my balance. When I managed to regain my equilibrium, I looked up to see Duncan standing over me, engaging the now-enraged general. And then the rest of the noise from the battlefield filtered in to my awareness, and I looked around in a daze to see Riordan beheading one of the emissaries whose mana I held, while Conrad and Loghain stood back to back fighting a group of hurlocks. Further away, a group of soldiers fought their way through the horde to reach Cailan, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

The battalion had arrived, and brought a group of Wardens with it.

I scrambled to my feet, finding the daggers which I’d dropped in my fall, the pressure in my head now more bearable as the emissaries were slowly eliminated; I pivoted back and grabbed the mana from the darkspawn-from-hell Duncan was fighting just in time to see the Warden Commander freeze as the general shouted in his face, something unintelligible and unspeakably dark.

He just stood there, looking confused, as the general’s axe was embedded deeply in his side.

I shouted, my voice lost in the clashing of swords and the battle cries around me; it felt like slow motion, like something out of a cheesy action movie, as Duncan slowly crumpled to his knees, then began tipping backwards to the ground.

I felt the pressure in my head flow out around me before I knew what I was doing, and the remaining three emissaries and the general were knocked off their feet by a powerful blast wave that completely missed Riordan, Loghain, and the rest of the people around me. The emissaries landed in pools of their own blood, none of them rising again, but the general rolled over, clearly dazed but alive. He was bleeding from the mouth and one eye was badly damaged, the socket deformed, the black eyeball drooping, but he slowly struggled up to his knees, trying to stand.

I screeched angrily, gripping my daggers and preparing to lunge at it, when a great sword descended in my peripheral vision and the general’s head flew a couple of feet, bouncing a little ways down the hill; arterial spray of darkspawn blood arced out and covered me as I looked over to see Cailan standing, chest heaving with exertion, leaning on his blade for support.

I turned back and dropped to my knees at Duncan’s side; Cailan did the same, and helped me roll him over to rest against my lap. I wasn’t surprised to see his vacant stare, blood trickling out of his slack mouth, but I had hoped he could have survived. I cried and wrapped my arms around his ruined torso as Cailan pulled the heavy axe out of his wound and dropped it. With shaky hands, I closed the eyes of the man I wished had been my father, then buried my face against his shoulder and broke down completely.

I sobbed for what could have been only a minute, or might have been an hour - I couldn’t honestly say one way or the other - until finally Cailan and Riordan approached me. Cailan pulled me into his arms as Riordan gently, reverently shifted the body I held back to the ground. The Warden pulled off his own cloak and threw it over the corpse, before setting the two swords Duncan had fought with across his chest.

Cailan lifted me to my feet, and without letting go, half-dragged, half-carried me towards the camp behind us. The army that had arrived had mopped up the rest of the darkspawn that ambushed us, and the dead were being painstakingly laid out for later cremation; I didn’t really register any of it as Cailan lowered me to the ground in what I realised had been set up as a makeshift infirmary. All around me, warriors screamed or moaned in pain from horrific injuries, while the remaining mages, Irving and a couple of others, did their best to tend the wounds.

Irving came over immediately, kneeling in front of me and asking me something; the question didn’t even penetrate the haze I was surrounded by. All I could think of was that Duncan had died because of me. And now someone else would have to die to slay the Archdemon, someone who could have been saved, maybe my brother, or my husband, or one of the others I’d come to love like family over the last year, and it was my fault.

I twitched, startled, when Irving’s magic aura swelled and he ran healing magic over me; it didn’t last long before the exhausted-looking mage stood and spoke briefly with Cailan. The words ‘shock’ and ‘comfort’ penetrated the mist around me, and then Irving was gone. I felt Cailan settle to the ground behind me, pulling me back into his arms, as he started whispering comforting nonsense in my ear.

I finally stirred when Riordan knelt in front of me again, offering me the daggers I had dropped when I had seen Duncan fall.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

Riordan had to lean in to hear me over the noise around us. “Pardon?”

“It’s my fault,” I elaborated. “I’m sorry.”

“Sierra-“ Cailan began, but Riordan silenced him with a gesture.

I continued sadly, “I got him killed, and now you’re going to die.”

Riordan sighed and took my hand. “It’s no one’s fault but the darkspawn’s, and the one to blame is dead. You are not responsible for his death, any more than you will be responsible for mine. And, my Lady, I was always going to die in this fight. I do not wish to return to Orlais to await my Calling, and we both know I don’t have much time. As for Duncan…you thought of him as a father, and he thought of you as a daughter. I cannot imagine any way he would rather die than to protect his little girl. I know he is at the Maker’s side, and I guarantee he does not harbour any regrets about how he died.” His voice cracked and wavered on the last words.

Surrounded by screaming, injured men, my brother-in-law and my honourary father’s brother-at-arms held me while I cried, mourning the bravest, best man I’d ever known.

Finally Cailan was called away, and it forced me to start pulling myself together. Riordan, looking as depressed as I felt, offered me a scrap of cloth to dry my eyes and blow my nose, then gave me a hand up.

Something occurred to me as I looked at his sympathetic face. “Wait, what are you guys doing here? You’re supposed to be taking down the Archdemon.”

Riordan nodded. “So far, it hasn’t come close enough for the mages or bolas to get a hit. We wondered if it might wait until the generals were both dead to come nearer. We were wandering more-or-less aimlessly, killing ogres and the like, looking for the general, until we heard you’d been attacked. Duncan,” he swallowed, his voice cracking slightly, “immediately knew it would take the intelligence of a general to pull off such a feint. And we were the closest Wardens, so we came to ensure the general was killed.”

My head snapped up, glancing around at the other Wardens where they were aiding the injured to reach the infirmary. “Then you need to get back out there!” I hissed. “What if the Archdemon lands while you’re here? Don’t wait for me. I’ll be fine. Go, go, go!”

I made a shooing gesture, and Riordan tried to chuckle, almost succeeding. “Going, your Highness. Right away.”

I didn’t waste any time herding the four of them together. They spent a few moments checking their light packs for supplies, and I ran to get them a few extra potions from the camp. As they were all shouldering their bags, I felt a foreboding, sickening presence, and looked up in time to see the Archdemon fly over. Its scales reflected almost blood-red in the torchlight; it let out an ear-shattering roar, presumably angry that its general had been killed, and I shuddered. It circled once, then winged off in the direction of the main body of the horde.

“Hurry!” I demanded; Loghain began muttering at me in irritation, even as the three Orlesians laughed at my antics. I began ushering them down the hill, when a voice rang out behind me.

“Hold!”

I sighed and turned; the Wardens all bowed to Cailan, while I just scowled at the delay. His news made my mood even worse.

Cailan ignored my glare. “Riordan, the surviving nobles and this battalion will accompany you to the rest of the army. You’re going to need all the help you can get, and we need a new command post - we’re too exposed on this hill. Please be ready to march in ten minutes.”

Riordan nodded as Cailan turned to walk away, and I heard Loghain rumble some sort of complaint, quickly quashed by the senior Warden. I followed the blond monarch as he headed back up the hill.

“Cailan…”

He turned. “I know, Sierra. But they’re not going to make it to the Archdemon, as it stands. We’ve had news of another group breaking off from the main body of the horde and heading towards us. We need to engage them before they can over-run the encampment - we need to protect the injured and get the Wardens where they need to go. They’ll never make it through with that group between them and the Archdemon.”

“If they down the Archdemon before Riordan gets there…”

“It’ll be fine. There are almost a dozen more Wardens down there somewhere.”

I shot him a horrified look, and then realised from his confused frown that Duncan hadn’t been as honest as he had implied. Not that he ever fully said, he just let me assume… I struggled to stifle the irritation that flared. Don’t speak ill of the dead.

“Cailan, the Warden who kills the Archdemon…he dies. Alistair is down there. Aedan is down there! If Riordan doesn’t get there in time…”

Cailan’s puzzled look morphed to one of pure horror. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought Duncan had!” Stupid Grey Warden secrets. “Cailan - we need to hurry.”

He nodded and raced off towards the milling nobles, shouting orders and demanding greater speed. I grabbed my own pack from the camp, my Earth items tucked in the bottom, rations and potions on top for ease of use. I realised I’d left my daggers somewhere, and headed back to the infirmary to find them lying amidst the injured.

The infirmary had gotten worse, since I’d walked away; there were men with missing limbs, head wounds, blood and guts spilling from ruined bodies, and I almost threw up as I retrieved my daggers and hurried away with alacrity. Greagoir approached me as I rushed, and I took a deep breath, hoping not to throw up on his boots.

“I saw what you did, with those emissaries.”

I sighed. “I lost the men you left with me. I had to do something.”

“Impressive work. One day I hope you will consent to teaching us that tactic.”

“Honestly, and I’m not trying to be rude, but I doubt it will work. I’m pretty sure I almost died trying to hold that much mana. Anyone with even slightly lesser resistance…well, it either wouldn’t have worked, or they’d have gone down in a blaze of glory.”

He nodded, disappointed. “Well, anyway, well done.”

“Tell me Cullen survived?”

He glanced over at a group of identical, helmeted templars in matching armour; I wasn’t sure anyone would be able to tell them apart, but Greagoir nodded. “He’s fine.”

“Good. Don’t forget Kirkwall.”

He nodded again, and I excused myself to go back and sit beside Riordan, who was slumped on the hill, just waiting.

“Hey, where’s Morrigan, anyway?”

“Flying around somewhere. We wanted her to locate the Archdemon when it got close so she could direct us to it.”

“Ah.” I considered. “But…does she know you’re over here?”

“I do.”

I jumped and swivelled to see the raven-haired witch smirking at me from behind.

“The beast has made two passes over parts of the army. There have been some burns, but none severe. I believe the bola launchers and Circle sheep are moving into position now. I suggest we move, immediately, if you still wish to arrive before it is downed.”

“We have to wait for the King,” I whined.

She scoffed. “He does not command the Grey Wardens, last I checked.”

“No,” Riordan responded before Loghain’s red-face could turn into an angry outburst, “but we have agreed to work together as a cohesive force. And especially now, without our Commander, we really don’t have much choice.”

“He’s not going to listen to a bunch of Orlesian Wardens,” Conrad opined, “never mind Loghain. And if the horde has moved as he says, he’s not wrong. We need him to have a hope of getting there.”

She sniffed, but I was surprised by the lack of response. She turned to me, taking in my tear-stained face. “Duncan perished?”

I just nodded, still too miserable, too guilty to talk about it.

“I am sorry.” She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. “I shall go check on Aedan and Alistair.”

Riordan agreed, and she shifted back into a blackbird, taking off to sail effortlessly over the horde. I knew that checking on the others was her way of helping me in my grief, and I truly appreciated it. I briefly wished I’d had the presence of mind to give her one last hug, but I knew she wouldn’t want it anyway.

Finally, Cailan had the battalion ready to move. He put me in the middle with the other Wardens and himself, directing those at the front to move as quickly as possible to engage the horde, and hopefully allow the four Wardens to slip through in the chaos.

I’d never done a forced march; it was much different than the rather casual walking through the Bannorn I had become accustomed to over the previous year, and I was grateful for all the training and travelling we had done. Earth Sierra could never have kept up. We caught sight of the forerunners of the horde before long, and then we came across a last hill before the plain on which the rest of the army fought. Cailan halted us at the top of the hill, hoping to use the geography to our advantage, and even Loghain mumbled reluctant praise at the idea. The battalion got into formation, the single mage not left with the infirmary wagons began casting glyphs down the hill in front of us, and the soldiers drew their weapons, waiting expectantly. It took only a few minutes before we were fighting again.

These darkspawn fought with much less cohesion than the previous group we’d faced, proof that the generals were what provided the organization, and the battle wore on with fewer casualties than we had experienced earlier. The Wardens engaged an ogre and took it down, and then I lost track of them for a while.

We’d apparently thinned the ranks of emissaries, and I came across only two; I stole their mana, and wasn’t attacked. The hunting was apparently over, for now.

We finally killed the last of the offshoot from the horde; the Wardens were ahead of us, moving fast towards the rest of the army. The battalion, moving as quickly as possible, followed in their wake, leaving the less wounded men to tend to those who needed aid.

We marched across ground that had already been fought for, and it squelched under my feet with each step, human and darkspawn blood mingling into a reddish-black ooze. There was no breeze, and the metallic tang of blood in the air was so strong that I could almost taste it. I wonder if anything will ever grow here again. With a brief glance at the battalion’s remaining mages, I wondered how thin the veil had become with all the violence and bloodshed.

I felt the Archdemon before I saw it, spinning in place to see it flying low, looking to do a strafing run over the entire battalion. I screamed out an order to run and hide, which was echoed by the four Grey Wardens; I had to give the troops credit - they followed orders. The men scattered, some dodging into the trees, others ducking behind rocks. Those that couldn’t get out completely dove to the ground, hoping to roll out of the way, or cowered under raised shields.

I took one quick look behind me to see Cailan being hustled away by one of his advisors before throwing myself down behind a small boulder with a handful of others. I heard screaming, as the Archdemon flew over - clearly not everyone had gotten to safety. I held my arm over my face as the wind whipped around me, stirred by the powerful flapping of the dragon’s wings, then ran out to help once the beast was out of range.

Only a dozen or so soldiers had been injured, most of those with non-life-threatening burns only. A few would have significant scarring - they screamed, trying not to touch the skin where it had been melted by spirit fire, or whatever those purple flames were. Again, the less injured helped the more severe back towards the makeshift infirmary. I hoped Irving was good with burns.

Abandoning formation, Cailan demanded that the remaining members of the battalion separate and make their way to the ongoing battle in smaller groups, hoping to avoid repeat performances; the Archdemon flew overhead once, then I lost it in the dim pre-dawn sky. The battalion edged forward through trees and uneven terrain, sliding down the hill the darkspawn had just climbed.

As we reached the plain, we heard the Archdemon roar over the distant army, and then a horrific screech. Squinting in the dim light, I saw one of the beast’s wings stiffen as it flew, and it faltered briefly before managing to catch itself mid-fall and rise again. The mages! A glancing blow, but they’re ready for it. The next time it tried to strafe the army, the co-ordination was better. Both wings slowed and one again froze, I assumed due to the mages’ combined frost spells, and then something impacted on the damaged wing. The bolas worked even better than I thought! The beast screamed, part of the wing shattered, and we all watched in disbelief as the Archdemon crashed heavily to the ground.

Riordan and the other Grey Wardens with him took off at a run, me and Cailan close at their heels with the rest of the battalion following along. We encountered a few darkspawn still fighting remnants of the army, and the Grey Wardens cut through them like a hot knife through butter. The survivors who weren’t too badly injured joined us as we ran, and the battalion’s numbers swelled again the closer we got.

As we finally approached, I could hear the Archdemon still roaring, followed by the crackle of flames; magic sizzled and swelled, mostly Circle magic from the feel, and I guessed the group of mages who’d helped ground the dragon were now trying to weaken it for the Grey Wardens who were hopefully fighting it. I could feel other magic, though, as well - darkspawn magic, not like the general, but I guessed there were at least a handful of emissaries casting. I put on a burst of speed, hoping to get close enough to interrupt them in whatever they were working on; I thought I could replicate what I’d done after the general had slain Duncan, now that I’d seen myself doing it again with more understanding under my belt.

Finally getting close enough to see, it was clear that the tactics we’d drilled for two months had been very effective. Each battalion was a cohesive unit, fighting groups of darkspawn that streamed towards the Archdemon. The mages split their time between slowing and damaging the ogres and the larger clumps of darkspawn, and throwing spells to weaken the Archdemon. The archers rained down death on the remnants of the horde, while a handful with more powerful crossbows took aim at the Archdemon itself. And distantly, I could see tiny figures swarming around the feet of the creature, dodging teeth and claws, scrambling away when it started breathing fire.

I raced towards the emissaries with the Grey Wardens pacing me, but just as I came into range to disrupt their spellcasting, the ground underneath my feet began to rumble. I was knocked over, my feet flying out from under me, and landed awkwardly on my face and one shoulder with a scream. I could hear the crunching and moaning of armoured figures hitting the ground around me, and guessed that all of us were down.

When the earth finally quit heaving, I slowly climbed to my feet, only to gape in shock. We’d made it to within a couple hundred feet of the Archdemon, but between us and it, a massive ravine had opened up, splitting the ground in front of us. There was a canyon, at least twenty feet deep and fifteen feet wide, with sheer walls and sharp rubble at the bottom, dividing us from the rest of the army.

Cailan immediately began shouting for the soldiers to form up, sending scouts out, half south and half north, to find a way around; Riordan paced beside the cleft, and I wondered if he was trying to decide if he could jump it, or climb. A few dwarves raced back to the woods we’d left behind, talking about cutting trees and building bridges.

I stayed where I was, reaching out angrily to seize the mana of the five emissaries who had cut us off from where my brother and my husband were fighting for their lives. I managed to control the shockwave, letting out the pressure quickly enough that I didn’t feel like my head would explode, and all of the darkspawn mages crumpled to the ground.

And then, nothing left to do, I watched helplessly. I was close enough to see them, now - both Aedan’s and Alistair’s groups were there, trying to take the beast down. It was injured, black ichor oozing out of its shattered wing, one leg deformed - from the crash landing, I assumed - and multiple wounds were sluggishly bleeding. The warriors took turns drawing its attention, the mages weakening, freezing, or electrocuting it, the rogues darting underneath or behind to bleed it further. Even Prince was there, tearing into a hind leg with his teeth. It was a war of attrition, and it looked like the Grey Wardens were winning.

To my surprise, despite its injuries, the Archdemon, receiving the first rays of morning sun, reared back, flapping its one good wing, blowing most of the Grey Wardens back a dozen feet, and sending the few it missed scrambling for cover with an enormous torrent of flames. Aedan went ass over teakettle as he’d dodged a flailing leg just as the wind kicked up, and they all regrouped with him, wearily eyeing the enraged dragon.

The mages and archers in the army, fighting against a renewed assault by the darkspawn, took a moment to switch from their attackers, sending a last volley of spells and arrows at the failing beast. A massive frost spell of some sort paralysed its good wing, while the arrows filled it full of holes, and some sort of lightning explosion impacted against its raised chin, rocking it solidly.

The beast fell, head crashing down to the ground, neck muscles too weak or too damaged to hold it up anymore, and it was clear despite the last gust of flame that the fight was all-but-over. One more significant hit to the neck or head would be the end of it, and the dragon’s position left those important parts vulnerable.

It was time for a killing blow, and Riordan, Dougal, Conrad and Loghain were on the wrong side of a chasm they could not cross.

I saw Aedan square his shoulders, and turn a sorrowful eye on Zevran. I couldn’t hear what was said, of course, but if I knew my brother, he was saying something stupid like ‘go on without me’ or ‘take care of my sister.’ Zev nodded, a strange, jerky head bob; I started to scream, only to see Aedan’s own mabari jump up and tackle him, take a mouthful of the back of Aedan’s armour and drag him down to the ground. Before anyone else could do anything about it, the Antivan was sprinting towards the now quiescent dragon.

I watched, horrified, clinging to Riordan, who groaned softly, as the love of Aedan’s life raised his sword, and as I had seen in the game, thrust it firmly into the back of the neck of the vulnerable, tainted creature.

A blast wave travelled out from the site of the assassin’s sacrifice, and we barely kept to our feet as it swept past us. A few of the soldiers closer to the beast fell, the darkspawn taking momentary advantage, until the brilliant light burst out from the corpse. I had to look away, the intensity agonising, so I couldn’t have said what happened to Zevran. I blinked quickly, only to see the nearest darkspawn actually incinerated by the explosion while the soldiers were left unharmed.

After that, it was a complete rout. Dazed darkspawn were slaughtered without a fight, while others turned tail and tried to flee, and the archers shot them in the back as they ran. On our side of the chasm, all we could do was stand and watch as the army mopped up the stragglers who weren’t successful at escaping. A couple dozen dwarves finally returned dragging two large tree trunks, which were stripped of their branches, lashed together, and dropped over the ravine.

Riordan and the other Wardens were the first to cross, followed by me, Cailan, and the other nobles. The battalion behind me had been instructed to begin gathering more wood for pyres, setting up a larger infirmary, and preparing for the dead and wounded, while the rest of the fighters - warriors and rogues, humans, dwarves and elves, mages and templars, sank to the ground where they stood, exhausted and shaky from the remains of their battle highs.

I found my brother, who was barely being restrained by the combined efforts of Sten and Alistair, as he attempted to break free and go to Zevran. Prince whined pitifully, Alistair tried murmuring reassuring nonsense, while Sten tried appealing to his logic.

“You cannot approach yet, Warden. It helps no one if you perish too.”

I didn’t think either would be successful, given the wracking sobs shaking his frame; I got in front of him and wrapped my arms around his neck, just holding tight until he slumped into my arms and we both sank to the ground, Prince burying his muzzle in the small space between our bellies. I suppressed sobs of my own, trying to be strong for my brother. Trying not to break down demanding forgiveness.

I looked around, catching Alistair’s eye and exchanging a meaningful glance I couldn’t have explained if I tried, but it was full of sadness, regret, but also hope and relief. I’m so lucky. Thank you, Maker, for sparing him. I broke the gaze to check everyone else out while Aedan cried on my shoulder. Nothing like feeling guilty for being relieved.

“Where is Duncan?” someone finally asked, and I just shook my head in sorrow as Riordan hurried to tell everyone he hadn’t made it and that we could discuss the details later.

I caught a last glimpse of Morrigan, who smiled sadly, raised one hand in an unexpected wave, and then shapeshifted into a bird and flew off. Sten had backed off and stood stoically cleaning his blade. The mages huddled together, Anders and Solona clinging to each other, the healer looking positively grey, while Jowan hovered awkwardly. I think they’re all out of mana, if their skin colour is anything to go by. Faren and Bel were bandaging up superficial wounds on each other, then started making the rounds to see who else needed it.

Leliana and Mornwulf spoke quietly, the bard’s eyes suspiciously bright. Oghren stood, holding his hammer sadly, staring at the place where the elf had disappeared.

“Never thought the nug-humper had it in him,” he muttered. “Sod it, this wasn’t supposed to be how it happened.”

“He planned it, I think,” Alistair wondered aloud. “He said something in Antivan to Prince just before he tackled Aedan.” He came over to where I held my brother and offered me a hand; I clung to it, needing the reassurance of contact with my husband.

I nodded, sniffling. “Why else do you think he Joined?” I sighed. “Do you think we can go look for… um…” I didn’t want to say the words ‘body’ or ‘corpse’, though I had no other terms that were more acceptable.

I glanced at Riordan, who had signalled a group of mages before staring at the Archdemon speculatively. “I think it will be safe.” He lowered his voice, speaking to Alistair and me alone. “I’ll make arrangements for the blood to be collected. Why don’t you go look?”

Alistair helped me hoist Aedan, but I still held my brother’s hand as we shuffled towards the dragon’s corpse. I heard clomping behind me, and guessed the other Wardens had come to help look, and pay their respects.

It was several long minutes before we found Zevran, his slight frame crumpled up against the beast’s neck where it couldn’t initially be seen. It took all of us to shift the dragon’s head so we could reach him, and Aedan dropped to his knees beside the assassin without touching him.

“It should have been me,” he moaned, renewed tears streaking down his face. “Why am I always the one left behind?”

I knelt to pull him into my arms again, letting him sob against my neck; Leliana patted my shoulder as she stepped past us, bending down to straighten out the body. Zevran looked unscathed, I noticed vaguely; his face was covered in dirt and darkspawn blood, but he was otherwise unmarked. Leliana eased him into a supine position, crossing his arms across his chest. She went to close his eyes, and then twitched, startled, as she realised they weren’t open. I’d seen enough death to know that was unusual - very few people who died in battle did so with closed eyes. The bard brushed her fingers against his temple, smearing some of the dirt and fondly smoothing back a lock of his hair, when a voice I never thought I would hear again croaked out softly.

“If you wanted to run your hands through my hair, my dear Leliana, you had only to ask, yes?”