There and Back - Chapter 118
Chapter One Hundred Eighteen: Identity Crisis
“Sierra? Love?” Alistair’s voice, faint but audible, drifted in from outside the library where I’d been loitering all afternoon.
I stopped and stepped to the door, poking my head out to see my husband and brother come around a corner next to the library. “Here! I’m just looking at some books, and talking to…” I turned back to the elf, whose face looked slightly flushed for some reason. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The elf opened his mouth to reply, just as Aedan gasped and Alistair interrupted. “Warden Constable Torpin.”
I felt Alistair’s hands settle at my waist from behind possessively.
I gaped. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask who the elf was, and with my unconscious, stupid human bias, it never occurred to me that an unimposing-looking elf would be anything other than a servant. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Sierra. Once I thought about it, I could feel the taint radiating off of the elf; I’d been working so hard at ignoring the feeling since the Weisshaupt delegates had arrived that I hadn’t noticed.
I spent a few seconds rethinking our conversation, trying to remember if I’d said anything to the man that I shouldn’t have. He had probably figured out that something was strange - I realised that much of what we’d discussed made little sense, now that I thought about it. An elf from the Alienage would likely be completely illiterate, never mind having read Genitivi’s histories. And he wasn’t as servile as the other city elves I’d met - I was so happy not to be seen as intimidating that I hadn’t noticed. He either thought I was an idiot, or he had figured out there was more going on with me than with some typical Thedosian noblewoman. I slapped myself on the forehead.
“You knew exactly who I was. You came looking for me.”
Torpin flushed again and nodded. “We were curious about you. It’s…unusual for Wardens to be married, more so for them to travel with their non-Warden spouses. We suspect you know far more about the Order than a non-Warden should. And the fact that they were so adamant against bringing you to the meetings made us wonder what they were hiding.”
Aedan stepped forward, face red with fury, as Alistair pulled me behind him protectively. “Listen to me, Warden-Constable. I’ll say this precisely one time. My sister has been through enough. And she is not a Warden - even if we were still part of your Order, she is not. You have no authority here. Speak to her again, try to reach her in any way, and I will send you back to Weisshaupt in a box.”
Aedan and Alistair shared a quick glance, and then with a nod, Alistair turned, wrapping his arm around my waist, and practically dragged me out of the library, leaving Aedan alone with the Weisshaupt Warden. I could hear the elf objecting as I was ushered away, but Aedan’s clipped response was too quiet to make out.
Alistair didn’t speak the entire way back to our room, and I just accompanied him meekly, wondering how much trouble I was in. I had to admit that not finding out who the elf was before chatting with him was rather stupid, but I didn’t think I’d said anything that would betray my excessive knowledge of Grey Warden secrets, or anything about myself he wasn’t supposed to know.
Once we got to our room, Alistair ushered me through the door, and I dejectedly walked inside a few steps. I heard Alistair lock the door behind us, and I sighed and reluctantly turned around.
He surprised me, then, by pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face in my hair and squeezing me to him like I would disappear.
“Are you alright?”
I snuggled into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. Not for comfort, but just because I enjoyed the intimacy. “I’m fine, Alistair. Nothing happened. I didn’t even know I had a problem until you showed up! I’m glad you found me before I said anything stupid.”
“You wouldn’t have.” He released me and climbed onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He patted the spot next to him, and I cuddled up beside him again. “Will you tell me what you did talk about?”
Trying to explain my insanely silly brain fart was extremely embarrassing. After I went through the conversation, as far as I could remember, I tried anxiously to justify myself.
He chuckled teasingly. “So you had a conversation about history books and Chantry scholars, with an unknown elf you somehow assumed was a servant - despite not acting or dressing like a servant, and being far too well educated.”
“I was distracted! I was too busy being impressed with myself for my prank on Anora. I think he was listening to my conversation with that elf, and knew he could get away with acting less formal with me. And why should I have to demand the name of every person I talk to anyway? How was I supposed to know I’d be ambushed by a Warden? You never told me their leader was an elf…”
I rambled to a stop as Alistair placed a finger over my lips with an amused smile. “I’m not angry - at least, not at you. It is sort of funny, though.” I groaned, and he laughed. “What’s all this about a prank on Anora?”
I told him about the selection of books I helped the actual elven servant to choose, and he laughed at my helpless giggles as I related sending the sex book to Anora. “That’s cruel!” He pulled me into his lap for a kiss, and my laughter quickly changed to moaning as his lips attacked my sensitive ear.
His voice changed, too, dropping into that husky, sexy timbre he reserved for me alone. “Do you suppose she’s done with that book?”
I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, tilting my head to give him better access. “I…I don’t know, but there were more like that, where it came from,” I whispered. “I could go get one…”
“Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not too exhausted from what I plan to do to you tonight.” He shifted me to lay on my back on the bed, looming over me with a predatory smile, and I gulped.
“Bring it on, then.”
No one saw us for the rest of the night.
***
Apparently after we’d left, the Weisshaupt contingent insisted on holding a meeting with the rest of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens. They painted a bleak picture of being Wardens without the support of the order, and demanded that all of them leave Ferelden and report to another Grey Warden outpost - either in Orlais, Nevarra, the Free Marches, or Weisshaupt itself. All of our people declined, with the exception of Riordan, Dougal, and Loghain, who were instructed to report to Jader immediately. Riordan agreed to leave as soon as the celebration in Denerim was over - but they had to detour to Nevarra with Anora first. I bet Weisshaupt is none-too-pleased about that!
The Weisshaupt Wardens were gone the next day; Aedan refused to tell us what had transpired between him and Torpin after Alistair and I left, but my brother was tense and irritable for several days afterwards. Even Zevran had trouble pulling him out of his foul mood, and we all tiptoed around him until Fergus arrived in the capital. I avoided Fergus, not wanting to put a damper on Aedan’s renewed good humour by fighting with my liege lord, so I barely saw either Cousland before All Soul’s Day.
Sten left the day after that. With his Grey Warden status and some coin gifted to him by Aedan, he managed to purchase passage to Rivain on a merchant ship heading to Dairsmuid; from there it was a mere week’s walk to Kont-aar, the last Qunari stronghold on mainland Thedas. Rivain was largely peaceful, even with the Qunari presence, so he was at minimal risk.
He declined anyone walking him to the docks; I knew he would want to avoid emotional displays, and so we bid him farewell at the palace and let him go. I managed to finagle myself one last hug, plastering myself against his stony chest; to my shock, he patted my shoulder awkwardly instead of standing stiffly uncomfortable like normal. I’m actually going to miss him too…huh. It was strange to think that a Qunari had become a part of my family, but that’s what had happened.
I presented him with a large bag of cookies, as he left, as well as a card with a recipe for one of his favourites - oatmeal with raisins. The big softie really does have a sweet tooth. With a nod, he left us and headed to the docks.
I wondered what would happen to him when he got back to Seheron, and if we’d ever see him again. He’d signed an agreement with Aedan for mutual aid against the Blight, choosing to ally himself with us instead of Weisshaupt; Aedan had supplied him with enough Archdemon blood to recruit and keep a small number of Wardens in Seheron for a century, and a recipe for the Joining potion. I hope Qunari Grey Wardens aren’t something Thedas comes to fear, down the road…
Riordan had been excessively quiet since the battle had been won, and I finally cornered him after the Weisshaupt group left, convincing him to take a walk with me in the palace’s gardens. He looked gaunt, tired, even despite all the time we’d had to rest since returning to Denerim.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, before I had a chance to say anything.
I was touched by his concern, especially in light of his own significant issues. “I’m okay. I’m still mourning, I suppose, but I’m trying not to feel guilty about how Duncan died. I miss him, Riordan.”
He sighed. “As do I. You should not feel guilty, Sierra. Knowing what he would be facing, had he survived…well, I think I envy him, to be honest.”
I touched Riordan’s arm, shocked and saddened. “Riordan…”
“I was not meant to survive the battle. You said so yourself. Now, instead of a death that means something, trying to end the Blight, I will be forced to take my Calling and go alone into the Deep Roads. Once I take Anora to Nevarra and return to Jader with Loghain, I will be leaving for Orzammar almost immediately. My sanity will not last much longer, I am afraid. For some reason I fared better than Duncan, but I do not have long.”
“Why don’t you let Dougal take Anora and Loghain, at least? Spend the last of your time travelling, or with friends, or something. Stay here, if you like. Maybe Avernus could help you?” I fought back the tears at the idea of losing a connection to Duncan, not to mention the idea of him dying alone in those dank, tainted tunnels underground.
He shook his head sadly. “My entire adult life has been about duty, Sierra; I will not shirk it now. Besides, I’d like to go back to Jader anyway. I wish to say goodbye to my brothers and sisters, before my Calling. And as much as I understand Duncan’s choice to separate from Weisshaupt…I wish my name to be recorded in the archives, alongside all of the others who have come before me. I don’t disapprove of the split, but I am a Grey Warden, not a Fereldan Grey Warden.
“No, I look forward to going home, and the side-trip to Nevarra shouldn’t be much of a hardship. Though I do wish the king would tell us where in Nevarra we’re going…”
“You don’t know? He’d better tell you soon - you’ll be leaving in a week!”
“Perhaps he’s having second thoughts?”
“About putting her aside? I doubt it. She well and truly screwed herself on that one. If she’d respected his ‘memory’ at all in Denerim before the Landsmeet…if she hadn’t betrayed us, I think he could have forgiven her. But no, I imagine the hold-up is not wanting his enemies to know where she’ll be.”
Riordan smiled, looking exhausted despite his brief amusement.
“Are you going to be okay?” I reached out and touched his arm softly, and he patted my hand.
“I will. The nightmares are less since the Archdemon’s death. It won’t be long now. I’ll be fine.”
Nodding, throat constricted around all the things I didn’t know how to say, I hugged him briefly and then walked away in search of my husband, hoping for a distraction.
All of the Wardens near Denerim had been recalled from their patrols for the celebration on All Soul’s Day. Several of the elves who’d stayed in the Palace during the evacuation had been hired as servants, and Cailan had them cleaning our armour, and washing and repairing tabards; he even brought in some apparently famous hair stylist, who Leliana had recommended, to do touch-ups on everyone’s hair. By the day before the celebration, we were all outfitted appropriately, and acceptably groomed, ready for the festivities.
Like the Wardens, I was permitted to wear armour for the ceremony - Aedan was paranoid about the possibility of assassination attempts, so we were all fully armed as well - and I proudly donned my Grey Warden ‘companion’ tabard over my set of green leather. Alistair’s dragon bone shone in the sun, and the rest of our group also looked good. Loghain insisted on being left behind; I had barely seen or spoken to the taciturn Warden since we’d arrived in Denerim, and I wondered if he’d spent all his time commiserating with Anora. He maintained that he’d be a distraction - either hated by those who’d opposed him, or lauded by those who’d benefitted from him - and it would take the focus away from the purpose of the day. He’s probably not wrong.
A parade was to be the start of the celebration, and we all gathered anxiously at the palace gates. Several carts were brought out; they’d been decorated with flowers and fabric to look festive, and we were divided among three of them. Cailan’s went first, of course, surrounded by loyal guard members; Fergus, Nathaniel, Leonas Bryland, and Eamon, among others, sat behind him. We came next, Riordan, Alistair and I joining Aedan and Zevran on the first, the rest of our group divided between the other two as they wished. Several of the Circle mages sat with the Wardens. The rest of the nobility who’d been in the battle followed us on a few more carts, and a large number of soldiers brought up the rear.
We had to wait a few minutes until Kylon - who’d been promoted to the head of Denerim’s Guard - was happy with the security detail, and then we were travelling through Denerim. There were crowds on the streets, pressed up against the walls to allow the parade to go by; people screamed and cheered, throwing paper flowers and waving madly, and we all got into the spirit of the thing, waving back. Cailan had bags of coppers and wrapped candies to throw to the children - the larger proportion of which ended up in the Alienage, I noted - and it was fun watching the little ones scramble to grab the treasures.
The parade wended through the noble’s district, out to the docks, through the Alienage, and down to the market, ending up outside the city gates. The remains of the elves’ tent city had been dismantled, and a large field near the city gates had been cleared. There were pavilions set up offering food for free; the scouts Cailan had sent out hunting had obviously been working hard, because there was wild boar, bronto, deer, sheep, and several other animals I didn’t care to look at too closely roasting over several large spits. There was a tent selling ale, several others hawking pastries, sweets, and keepsakes, but no one would go hungry - one tent with free food had even been set aside for any elves who were too nervous to approach the larger pavilions.
There were musicians playing, story-tellers weaving wild tales, and magicians amazing the crowds with sleight of hand tricks; acrobats tumbled across maps, and puppeteers retold the story of the battle that ended the Blight, much to the Wardens’ embarrassment. They all had hats out to collect coppers, and it looked like they’d all make a decent amount of coin given the size of the crowd.
Kylon had the guards taking rotations, each having some time to eat and explore the fairgrounds between patrols; some of the army bolstered the guards’ numbers, and overall it seemed unlikely there would be any violence. We still kept our armour on, just in case.
A large seating area had been set aside for the nobility, and the Wardens were invited. Our carts rolled up to the edge of the grounds, and we were allowed to climb down and mingle with the crowds, getting ourselves food before resting on benches with the nobles.
Later there was dancing, two large flat areas covered with wooden planks, one with a maypole in the centre, and a group of musicians alternated between songs more suited to the formal dances of the nobility, and the more carefree, less structured dancing of the common folk. I danced with my husband, but also Cailan, my brother, Nathaniel, most of the Wardens, and several of the nobility. I didn’t know any of the steps to the formal dances, so I only agreed to go during the less structured ones; even in armour, it was a lot of fun twirling and laughing between various partners.
Needing a breather, I sat for a moment and watched my adorably clueless husband dance with some young noblewoman - it wasn’t Habren, but I hadn’t caught her name. The look she’d given him, the glare directed my way, left no question what she was hoping for; I couldn’t even blame her. My husband, whether dressed in armour or a suit, was the most handsome man in Thedas, after all, and now a prince. But as much as she tried to flirt, he was only concentrating on his feet, trying not to step on her as he shuffled her awkwardly around the dance floor. I’d have been jealous, if his obvious discomfort wasn’t so clearly written across his face.
While I watched, someone sat down beside me; I turned to see Fergus, a mug of ale in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He held out the wine, and I took it with a grateful smile. I took a sip, and it was good - sweet, just how I liked it.
“You’ve been talking to Zevran, your Grace.”
He smiled. “Well, I felt I should get to know the man who won my brother’s heart.”
I was shocked, having expected Fergus to either be bothered by Aedan’s orientation, or possibly try to deny it. And he didn’t call me Princess. “He’s a wonderful person.”
Fergus chuckled. “You’re surprised that I know.”
I flushed. “I shouldn’t make assumptions, I suppose. Aedan never wanted to discuss his…interest, with your parents. He thought they wouldn’t approve, and I just assumed you would feel the same.”
He examined me, smile faltering. “My parents? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘our’ parents?”
I sighed. “I know you don’t believe me, and I won’t push myself where I’m not wanted, your Grace. Not to mention, even though I believe I am your sister, I wasn’t raised by the same people. I can’t claim to know anything about how they’d feel about…anything, really. A blood relationship isn’t the same as parentage.”
He sat silently considering that for a moment, and then nodded. “They weren’t upset that he likes men. But an heir would have been important, and it would eventually have caused problems. I know they’d been looking for a match with someone who would be…understanding. Not have expectations.
“But now…he’s a Grey Warden. He can’t hold a title, so his children wouldn’t be in line for the Teyrnir anyway. Even if Cailan reverses that rule for Ferelden…it just doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. After everything that happened, after all we’ve lost…” His voice cracked, and I suppressed the urge to touch him, to offer sympathy. “If he can have some measure of happiness, that’s all I want for him. I wouldn’t take that away from him.”
I looked away from the raw pain on his face, watching Alistair for a moment as he tried to spin the little harpy he was dancing with. “Thank you, your Grace. I know your approval will go a long way towards helping with Aedan’s happiness. And…I’m sorry. For your loss. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but…”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Thank you, Princess.” I winced, and he looked away, face flushed. “I’ve danced with all of the rest of my vassals, and I told you I would treat you the same as the rest. So, will you do me the honour?”
I twitched, startled. “Y..your Grace?”
He reached out and took the wine glass from my hand, then held his hand out expectantly. “A dance, Sierra. Yes or no?”
I nodded dumbly, taking his hand and standing up to follow the Teyrn onto the dance floor in shock. Alistair caught my eye, a concerned look on his face, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile. He frowned, but didn’t come and make a scene, for which I was grateful. He abandoned the woman he’d been dancing with as he slowly moved off the dance floor, eyes never leaving me.
I followed Fergus closer to the centre of the floor, heart pounding with anxiety. The music changed, as we walked, to one of the more formal dances, and I grimaced, tugging on Fergus’ hand. “Stop. Your Grace, please stop. I don’t know how to dance to this.”
“Just follow my lead.” He pulled me into position, one of his hands firmly on my back, the other gripping my suddenly sweaty fingers. “Relax. I’m not going to try to make you look stupid. This isn’t a group dance. It’s like fighting: just move when I do.”
And then he stepped. I moved my foot to keep from being trod upon, and suddenly we were, sort of, dancing. To my relief, he didn’t try too many fancy moves, and for the most part we just swayed back and forth to the tempo of the music. After the first minute, I settled into the pattern of the steps, trying not to be caught staring at the feet of the people twirling around us.
I was relieved when the song was over; Fergus was a good dancer, and he hadn’t let me look like an idiot, which he could have, but between my discomfort around him and my discomfort with dancing, I couldn’t have escaped the dance floor fast enough. So when the last notes of the song sounded, I curtsied, carefully, and then hurried back to my seat where Alistair waited for me.
I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to my husband’s side, praying no one else would ask me to dance.
Finally there was a ceremony; Cailan climbed up on a platform, and one of the Circle mages performed some spell that amplified his words. He made all of our group - companions and Wardens alike - stand beside him as he spoke.
“Fereldans!” he shouted, as everyone quietened down to listen. “We are gathered here today to rejoice at the end of the Blight that threatened our homeland. We have done what no other nation in Thedas has ever managed: we ended a Blight in less than a single year. We are here to remember and celebrate the lives of those we lost, and to give thanks to our soldiers, our mages, and our allies - including elves and dwarves; because of them, we defeated the horde of darkspawn that threatened not only our lives, but our way of life. But most of all, we must thank these people standing beside me.
“These Grey Wardens selflessly dedicate themselves to destroying darkspawn and defending against Blights; these Wardens, despite their numbers being decimated at Ostagar, without the support of their Order, and despite a civil war, gathered an army and defeated the Archdemon. And Duncan, their Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, gave his life to ensure we would all be safe.
“I give you your saviours: Ferelden’s Grey Wardens!”
The cheering was deafening, and not a one of us on the dais had managed to get through the speech without blushing - with the possible exception of Zevran, who I was pretty sure was genetically incapable of it. We waved, bowed to Cailan, waited politely for the clapping to die down, and then scampered away from the platform as fast as we could without being impolitic.
The rest of the evening was a riot of laughter, wine, dancing, singing, and spending the last of the time available to us together, before we would be separated. I missed Faren, Jowan, Bel, Oghren, and Conrad, though I drank enough wine to be rather silly, if not totally sloshed, and wasn’t entirely upset the dwarves would be missing my acute loss of control. I’d never hear the end of the teasing. Alistair, slightly less tipsy than me, helped me back to our room after the long, slow cart ride, and after downing a couple of glasses of water, we collapsed together on the bed and slept like drunken dwarves.
“Sierra? Love?” Alistair’s voice, faint but audible, drifted in from outside the library where I’d been loitering all afternoon.
I stopped and stepped to the door, poking my head out to see my husband and brother come around a corner next to the library. “Here! I’m just looking at some books, and talking to…” I turned back to the elf, whose face looked slightly flushed for some reason. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
The elf opened his mouth to reply, just as Aedan gasped and Alistair interrupted. “Warden Constable Torpin.”
I felt Alistair’s hands settle at my waist from behind possessively.
I gaped. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask who the elf was, and with my unconscious, stupid human bias, it never occurred to me that an unimposing-looking elf would be anything other than a servant. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Sierra. Once I thought about it, I could feel the taint radiating off of the elf; I’d been working so hard at ignoring the feeling since the Weisshaupt delegates had arrived that I hadn’t noticed.
I spent a few seconds rethinking our conversation, trying to remember if I’d said anything to the man that I shouldn’t have. He had probably figured out that something was strange - I realised that much of what we’d discussed made little sense, now that I thought about it. An elf from the Alienage would likely be completely illiterate, never mind having read Genitivi’s histories. And he wasn’t as servile as the other city elves I’d met - I was so happy not to be seen as intimidating that I hadn’t noticed. He either thought I was an idiot, or he had figured out there was more going on with me than with some typical Thedosian noblewoman. I slapped myself on the forehead.
“You knew exactly who I was. You came looking for me.”
Torpin flushed again and nodded. “We were curious about you. It’s…unusual for Wardens to be married, more so for them to travel with their non-Warden spouses. We suspect you know far more about the Order than a non-Warden should. And the fact that they were so adamant against bringing you to the meetings made us wonder what they were hiding.”
Aedan stepped forward, face red with fury, as Alistair pulled me behind him protectively. “Listen to me, Warden-Constable. I’ll say this precisely one time. My sister has been through enough. And she is not a Warden - even if we were still part of your Order, she is not. You have no authority here. Speak to her again, try to reach her in any way, and I will send you back to Weisshaupt in a box.”
Aedan and Alistair shared a quick glance, and then with a nod, Alistair turned, wrapping his arm around my waist, and practically dragged me out of the library, leaving Aedan alone with the Weisshaupt Warden. I could hear the elf objecting as I was ushered away, but Aedan’s clipped response was too quiet to make out.
Alistair didn’t speak the entire way back to our room, and I just accompanied him meekly, wondering how much trouble I was in. I had to admit that not finding out who the elf was before chatting with him was rather stupid, but I didn’t think I’d said anything that would betray my excessive knowledge of Grey Warden secrets, or anything about myself he wasn’t supposed to know.
Once we got to our room, Alistair ushered me through the door, and I dejectedly walked inside a few steps. I heard Alistair lock the door behind us, and I sighed and reluctantly turned around.
He surprised me, then, by pulling me into a tight hug, burying his face in my hair and squeezing me to him like I would disappear.
“Are you alright?”
I snuggled into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. Not for comfort, but just because I enjoyed the intimacy. “I’m fine, Alistair. Nothing happened. I didn’t even know I had a problem until you showed up! I’m glad you found me before I said anything stupid.”
“You wouldn’t have.” He released me and climbed onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. He patted the spot next to him, and I cuddled up beside him again. “Will you tell me what you did talk about?”
Trying to explain my insanely silly brain fart was extremely embarrassing. After I went through the conversation, as far as I could remember, I tried anxiously to justify myself.
He chuckled teasingly. “So you had a conversation about history books and Chantry scholars, with an unknown elf you somehow assumed was a servant - despite not acting or dressing like a servant, and being far too well educated.”
“I was distracted! I was too busy being impressed with myself for my prank on Anora. I think he was listening to my conversation with that elf, and knew he could get away with acting less formal with me. And why should I have to demand the name of every person I talk to anyway? How was I supposed to know I’d be ambushed by a Warden? You never told me their leader was an elf…”
I rambled to a stop as Alistair placed a finger over my lips with an amused smile. “I’m not angry - at least, not at you. It is sort of funny, though.” I groaned, and he laughed. “What’s all this about a prank on Anora?”
I told him about the selection of books I helped the actual elven servant to choose, and he laughed at my helpless giggles as I related sending the sex book to Anora. “That’s cruel!” He pulled me into his lap for a kiss, and my laughter quickly changed to moaning as his lips attacked my sensitive ear.
His voice changed, too, dropping into that husky, sexy timbre he reserved for me alone. “Do you suppose she’s done with that book?”
I gasped as his lips trailed down my neck, tilting my head to give him better access. “I…I don’t know, but there were more like that, where it came from,” I whispered. “I could go get one…”
“Maybe tomorrow, if you’re not too exhausted from what I plan to do to you tonight.” He shifted me to lay on my back on the bed, looming over me with a predatory smile, and I gulped.
“Bring it on, then.”
No one saw us for the rest of the night.
***
Apparently after we’d left, the Weisshaupt contingent insisted on holding a meeting with the rest of Ferelden’s Grey Wardens. They painted a bleak picture of being Wardens without the support of the order, and demanded that all of them leave Ferelden and report to another Grey Warden outpost - either in Orlais, Nevarra, the Free Marches, or Weisshaupt itself. All of our people declined, with the exception of Riordan, Dougal, and Loghain, who were instructed to report to Jader immediately. Riordan agreed to leave as soon as the celebration in Denerim was over - but they had to detour to Nevarra with Anora first. I bet Weisshaupt is none-too-pleased about that!
The Weisshaupt Wardens were gone the next day; Aedan refused to tell us what had transpired between him and Torpin after Alistair and I left, but my brother was tense and irritable for several days afterwards. Even Zevran had trouble pulling him out of his foul mood, and we all tiptoed around him until Fergus arrived in the capital. I avoided Fergus, not wanting to put a damper on Aedan’s renewed good humour by fighting with my liege lord, so I barely saw either Cousland before All Soul’s Day.
Sten left the day after that. With his Grey Warden status and some coin gifted to him by Aedan, he managed to purchase passage to Rivain on a merchant ship heading to Dairsmuid; from there it was a mere week’s walk to Kont-aar, the last Qunari stronghold on mainland Thedas. Rivain was largely peaceful, even with the Qunari presence, so he was at minimal risk.
He declined anyone walking him to the docks; I knew he would want to avoid emotional displays, and so we bid him farewell at the palace and let him go. I managed to finagle myself one last hug, plastering myself against his stony chest; to my shock, he patted my shoulder awkwardly instead of standing stiffly uncomfortable like normal. I’m actually going to miss him too…huh. It was strange to think that a Qunari had become a part of my family, but that’s what had happened.
I presented him with a large bag of cookies, as he left, as well as a card with a recipe for one of his favourites - oatmeal with raisins. The big softie really does have a sweet tooth. With a nod, he left us and headed to the docks.
I wondered what would happen to him when he got back to Seheron, and if we’d ever see him again. He’d signed an agreement with Aedan for mutual aid against the Blight, choosing to ally himself with us instead of Weisshaupt; Aedan had supplied him with enough Archdemon blood to recruit and keep a small number of Wardens in Seheron for a century, and a recipe for the Joining potion. I hope Qunari Grey Wardens aren’t something Thedas comes to fear, down the road…
Riordan had been excessively quiet since the battle had been won, and I finally cornered him after the Weisshaupt group left, convincing him to take a walk with me in the palace’s gardens. He looked gaunt, tired, even despite all the time we’d had to rest since returning to Denerim.
“How are you holding up?” he asked, before I had a chance to say anything.
I was touched by his concern, especially in light of his own significant issues. “I’m okay. I’m still mourning, I suppose, but I’m trying not to feel guilty about how Duncan died. I miss him, Riordan.”
He sighed. “As do I. You should not feel guilty, Sierra. Knowing what he would be facing, had he survived…well, I think I envy him, to be honest.”
I touched Riordan’s arm, shocked and saddened. “Riordan…”
“I was not meant to survive the battle. You said so yourself. Now, instead of a death that means something, trying to end the Blight, I will be forced to take my Calling and go alone into the Deep Roads. Once I take Anora to Nevarra and return to Jader with Loghain, I will be leaving for Orzammar almost immediately. My sanity will not last much longer, I am afraid. For some reason I fared better than Duncan, but I do not have long.”
“Why don’t you let Dougal take Anora and Loghain, at least? Spend the last of your time travelling, or with friends, or something. Stay here, if you like. Maybe Avernus could help you?” I fought back the tears at the idea of losing a connection to Duncan, not to mention the idea of him dying alone in those dank, tainted tunnels underground.
He shook his head sadly. “My entire adult life has been about duty, Sierra; I will not shirk it now. Besides, I’d like to go back to Jader anyway. I wish to say goodbye to my brothers and sisters, before my Calling. And as much as I understand Duncan’s choice to separate from Weisshaupt…I wish my name to be recorded in the archives, alongside all of the others who have come before me. I don’t disapprove of the split, but I am a Grey Warden, not a Fereldan Grey Warden.
“No, I look forward to going home, and the side-trip to Nevarra shouldn’t be much of a hardship. Though I do wish the king would tell us where in Nevarra we’re going…”
“You don’t know? He’d better tell you soon - you’ll be leaving in a week!”
“Perhaps he’s having second thoughts?”
“About putting her aside? I doubt it. She well and truly screwed herself on that one. If she’d respected his ‘memory’ at all in Denerim before the Landsmeet…if she hadn’t betrayed us, I think he could have forgiven her. But no, I imagine the hold-up is not wanting his enemies to know where she’ll be.”
Riordan smiled, looking exhausted despite his brief amusement.
“Are you going to be okay?” I reached out and touched his arm softly, and he patted my hand.
“I will. The nightmares are less since the Archdemon’s death. It won’t be long now. I’ll be fine.”
Nodding, throat constricted around all the things I didn’t know how to say, I hugged him briefly and then walked away in search of my husband, hoping for a distraction.
All of the Wardens near Denerim had been recalled from their patrols for the celebration on All Soul’s Day. Several of the elves who’d stayed in the Palace during the evacuation had been hired as servants, and Cailan had them cleaning our armour, and washing and repairing tabards; he even brought in some apparently famous hair stylist, who Leliana had recommended, to do touch-ups on everyone’s hair. By the day before the celebration, we were all outfitted appropriately, and acceptably groomed, ready for the festivities.
Like the Wardens, I was permitted to wear armour for the ceremony - Aedan was paranoid about the possibility of assassination attempts, so we were all fully armed as well - and I proudly donned my Grey Warden ‘companion’ tabard over my set of green leather. Alistair’s dragon bone shone in the sun, and the rest of our group also looked good. Loghain insisted on being left behind; I had barely seen or spoken to the taciturn Warden since we’d arrived in Denerim, and I wondered if he’d spent all his time commiserating with Anora. He maintained that he’d be a distraction - either hated by those who’d opposed him, or lauded by those who’d benefitted from him - and it would take the focus away from the purpose of the day. He’s probably not wrong.
A parade was to be the start of the celebration, and we all gathered anxiously at the palace gates. Several carts were brought out; they’d been decorated with flowers and fabric to look festive, and we were divided among three of them. Cailan’s went first, of course, surrounded by loyal guard members; Fergus, Nathaniel, Leonas Bryland, and Eamon, among others, sat behind him. We came next, Riordan, Alistair and I joining Aedan and Zevran on the first, the rest of our group divided between the other two as they wished. Several of the Circle mages sat with the Wardens. The rest of the nobility who’d been in the battle followed us on a few more carts, and a large number of soldiers brought up the rear.
We had to wait a few minutes until Kylon - who’d been promoted to the head of Denerim’s Guard - was happy with the security detail, and then we were travelling through Denerim. There were crowds on the streets, pressed up against the walls to allow the parade to go by; people screamed and cheered, throwing paper flowers and waving madly, and we all got into the spirit of the thing, waving back. Cailan had bags of coppers and wrapped candies to throw to the children - the larger proportion of which ended up in the Alienage, I noted - and it was fun watching the little ones scramble to grab the treasures.
The parade wended through the noble’s district, out to the docks, through the Alienage, and down to the market, ending up outside the city gates. The remains of the elves’ tent city had been dismantled, and a large field near the city gates had been cleared. There were pavilions set up offering food for free; the scouts Cailan had sent out hunting had obviously been working hard, because there was wild boar, bronto, deer, sheep, and several other animals I didn’t care to look at too closely roasting over several large spits. There was a tent selling ale, several others hawking pastries, sweets, and keepsakes, but no one would go hungry - one tent with free food had even been set aside for any elves who were too nervous to approach the larger pavilions.
There were musicians playing, story-tellers weaving wild tales, and magicians amazing the crowds with sleight of hand tricks; acrobats tumbled across maps, and puppeteers retold the story of the battle that ended the Blight, much to the Wardens’ embarrassment. They all had hats out to collect coppers, and it looked like they’d all make a decent amount of coin given the size of the crowd.
Kylon had the guards taking rotations, each having some time to eat and explore the fairgrounds between patrols; some of the army bolstered the guards’ numbers, and overall it seemed unlikely there would be any violence. We still kept our armour on, just in case.
A large seating area had been set aside for the nobility, and the Wardens were invited. Our carts rolled up to the edge of the grounds, and we were allowed to climb down and mingle with the crowds, getting ourselves food before resting on benches with the nobles.
Later there was dancing, two large flat areas covered with wooden planks, one with a maypole in the centre, and a group of musicians alternated between songs more suited to the formal dances of the nobility, and the more carefree, less structured dancing of the common folk. I danced with my husband, but also Cailan, my brother, Nathaniel, most of the Wardens, and several of the nobility. I didn’t know any of the steps to the formal dances, so I only agreed to go during the less structured ones; even in armour, it was a lot of fun twirling and laughing between various partners.
Needing a breather, I sat for a moment and watched my adorably clueless husband dance with some young noblewoman - it wasn’t Habren, but I hadn’t caught her name. The look she’d given him, the glare directed my way, left no question what she was hoping for; I couldn’t even blame her. My husband, whether dressed in armour or a suit, was the most handsome man in Thedas, after all, and now a prince. But as much as she tried to flirt, he was only concentrating on his feet, trying not to step on her as he shuffled her awkwardly around the dance floor. I’d have been jealous, if his obvious discomfort wasn’t so clearly written across his face.
While I watched, someone sat down beside me; I turned to see Fergus, a mug of ale in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. He held out the wine, and I took it with a grateful smile. I took a sip, and it was good - sweet, just how I liked it.
“You’ve been talking to Zevran, your Grace.”
He smiled. “Well, I felt I should get to know the man who won my brother’s heart.”
I was shocked, having expected Fergus to either be bothered by Aedan’s orientation, or possibly try to deny it. And he didn’t call me Princess. “He’s a wonderful person.”
Fergus chuckled. “You’re surprised that I know.”
I flushed. “I shouldn’t make assumptions, I suppose. Aedan never wanted to discuss his…interest, with your parents. He thought they wouldn’t approve, and I just assumed you would feel the same.”
He examined me, smile faltering. “My parents? Shouldn’t you be saying ‘our’ parents?”
I sighed. “I know you don’t believe me, and I won’t push myself where I’m not wanted, your Grace. Not to mention, even though I believe I am your sister, I wasn’t raised by the same people. I can’t claim to know anything about how they’d feel about…anything, really. A blood relationship isn’t the same as parentage.”
He sat silently considering that for a moment, and then nodded. “They weren’t upset that he likes men. But an heir would have been important, and it would eventually have caused problems. I know they’d been looking for a match with someone who would be…understanding. Not have expectations.
“But now…he’s a Grey Warden. He can’t hold a title, so his children wouldn’t be in line for the Teyrnir anyway. Even if Cailan reverses that rule for Ferelden…it just doesn’t feel like it matters anymore. After everything that happened, after all we’ve lost…” His voice cracked, and I suppressed the urge to touch him, to offer sympathy. “If he can have some measure of happiness, that’s all I want for him. I wouldn’t take that away from him.”
I looked away from the raw pain on his face, watching Alistair for a moment as he tried to spin the little harpy he was dancing with. “Thank you, your Grace. I know your approval will go a long way towards helping with Aedan’s happiness. And…I’m sorry. For your loss. I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but…”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Thank you, Princess.” I winced, and he looked away, face flushed. “I’ve danced with all of the rest of my vassals, and I told you I would treat you the same as the rest. So, will you do me the honour?”
I twitched, startled. “Y..your Grace?”
He reached out and took the wine glass from my hand, then held his hand out expectantly. “A dance, Sierra. Yes or no?”
I nodded dumbly, taking his hand and standing up to follow the Teyrn onto the dance floor in shock. Alistair caught my eye, a concerned look on his face, and I tried to give him a reassuring smile. He frowned, but didn’t come and make a scene, for which I was grateful. He abandoned the woman he’d been dancing with as he slowly moved off the dance floor, eyes never leaving me.
I followed Fergus closer to the centre of the floor, heart pounding with anxiety. The music changed, as we walked, to one of the more formal dances, and I grimaced, tugging on Fergus’ hand. “Stop. Your Grace, please stop. I don’t know how to dance to this.”
“Just follow my lead.” He pulled me into position, one of his hands firmly on my back, the other gripping my suddenly sweaty fingers. “Relax. I’m not going to try to make you look stupid. This isn’t a group dance. It’s like fighting: just move when I do.”
And then he stepped. I moved my foot to keep from being trod upon, and suddenly we were, sort of, dancing. To my relief, he didn’t try too many fancy moves, and for the most part we just swayed back and forth to the tempo of the music. After the first minute, I settled into the pattern of the steps, trying not to be caught staring at the feet of the people twirling around us.
I was relieved when the song was over; Fergus was a good dancer, and he hadn’t let me look like an idiot, which he could have, but between my discomfort around him and my discomfort with dancing, I couldn’t have escaped the dance floor fast enough. So when the last notes of the song sounded, I curtsied, carefully, and then hurried back to my seat where Alistair waited for me.
I spent the rest of the afternoon glued to my husband’s side, praying no one else would ask me to dance.
Finally there was a ceremony; Cailan climbed up on a platform, and one of the Circle mages performed some spell that amplified his words. He made all of our group - companions and Wardens alike - stand beside him as he spoke.
“Fereldans!” he shouted, as everyone quietened down to listen. “We are gathered here today to rejoice at the end of the Blight that threatened our homeland. We have done what no other nation in Thedas has ever managed: we ended a Blight in less than a single year. We are here to remember and celebrate the lives of those we lost, and to give thanks to our soldiers, our mages, and our allies - including elves and dwarves; because of them, we defeated the horde of darkspawn that threatened not only our lives, but our way of life. But most of all, we must thank these people standing beside me.
“These Grey Wardens selflessly dedicate themselves to destroying darkspawn and defending against Blights; these Wardens, despite their numbers being decimated at Ostagar, without the support of their Order, and despite a civil war, gathered an army and defeated the Archdemon. And Duncan, their Commander, the Hero of Ferelden, gave his life to ensure we would all be safe.
“I give you your saviours: Ferelden’s Grey Wardens!”
The cheering was deafening, and not a one of us on the dais had managed to get through the speech without blushing - with the possible exception of Zevran, who I was pretty sure was genetically incapable of it. We waved, bowed to Cailan, waited politely for the clapping to die down, and then scampered away from the platform as fast as we could without being impolitic.
The rest of the evening was a riot of laughter, wine, dancing, singing, and spending the last of the time available to us together, before we would be separated. I missed Faren, Jowan, Bel, Oghren, and Conrad, though I drank enough wine to be rather silly, if not totally sloshed, and wasn’t entirely upset the dwarves would be missing my acute loss of control. I’d never hear the end of the teasing. Alistair, slightly less tipsy than me, helped me back to our room after the long, slow cart ride, and after downing a couple of glasses of water, we collapsed together on the bed and slept like drunken dwarves.