Chapter Text
Chin Up
You think the world's unsafe
"So, she was as mad as a bucket of frogs." Alistair said cheerfully as the gates of Ostagar loomed into view. Caden suspected he had been holding his tongue for some time in order to make sure that Morrigan was out of earshot and therefore unable to overhear his comments about her mother. Caden said nothing, but raised her eyebrows. She shifted her pack onto both shoulders and was glad to feel the weight of the treaties inside there. Success had come to her at last and she was surprisingly pleased with the result. She even found herself looking forward to returning to Duncan with the news. "Well she was." Alistair went on as they started walking. "What was all that about stockings? I didn't want to think about her stockings. Or anything else for that matter."
Caden couldn’t hold back a small smile. While it had been clear that being in the company of Morrigan, the witch of the wilds, and her mother had not been a comfortable experience for him, now that they were in sight of the walls of the camp with the treaties he had brightened considerably. Cadens own pride at succeeding in their mission was lightening her step as well. His chattering, for once, wasn’t bothering her at all.
The sun was heading over the horizon, the sky starting to blush as they headed back to camp. The walk from the ruins to Morrigans home had not been terribly far and notably devoid of darkspawn. Morrigan had just sniffed derisively when asked if they were concerned about the closeness to the horde.
Alistair looked pleased to see her slight amusement at his words. “What did you think about Morrigan?” he shuddered. “Pretty scary and strange, right? Creepy to think that she was watching us.”
“I liked her.” Caden said, with a half-hearted shrug. “She wasn’t terribly friendly, but she did help us when she didn’t have to.
“You liked her?” Alistair’s voice was so scandalised that it almost brought a laugh to Caden’s lips. “What was there to like? I’m just grateful she didn’t cook us in a pot.”
“I didn’t get the impression that she ate people,” Caden gently chided. The question rolled through her mind as she considered her answer. “I don’t know what it is, but I guess I like the idea of living out here alone.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the wilds they were leaving. “It’s not the prettiest of places, but it’s quiet and secluded and there’s something rather appealing about that.”
She turned back after a moment of gazing towards the wilds to find Alistair considering her with a bemused look on his face. “What?”
“I can’t imagine why you’d want to live out here in the middle of nowhere,” Alistair replied. “I can see the allure for someone like Morrigan; an creepy apostate hiding from the Chantry, but you come from a city, don’t you? Wouldn’t you be bored?”
Caden took a few moments to mull his words over, remembering the long days inside the Alienage walls, how she would clamber as high as possible to look out over the city when she could. The market wasn’t far from the Alienage her vantage point gave her a view of colourful coverings over the stalls and the sound of people shouting out about their wares. Fun to watch as a child, but as she got older and the sensation of being trapped behind those walls under adulthood weighed on her and the lustre wore of. Finally, she began to speak with caution. “My home is in Denerim. Yes, it’s a city, but I never saw all that much of it outside of the Alienage so I couldn’t truly compare life in a city to life in the countryside. I guess I just see the appeal of living without people breathing down my neck.” She shrugged, the casual action belying the knot in her stomach as she thought about this. “Out here they are beholden to no-one but themselves. I find that quite freeing.”
That seemed to have given Alistair something to think about as they came to the gates and were allowed back inside by the guards. They made for the Warden section, the tents a far cry from the exit to the wilds thanks to their proximity to the king. As they walked, Caden spied the medical tents and without a word she diverted her course towards them, with Alistair scrambling suddenly to account for her change of direction. He didn’t ask what they were doing, just followed as quiet as a rather heavy-footed shadow could be. Caden shifted the pack again as they crept up a wide ramp towards the healers and their charges. Her gaze swept over the injured men and women, many bandaged up tightly, others lying asleep. Heading towards the tents interior they were met by the odd keening cry and sob as the healers tended to the wounded. Caden stepped inside as no-one stopped her and looked through the lamp lit canvas medical centre. The first two beds bore bodies that had sheets drawn up over their faces and Caden felt her breath hitch at the sight. She’d spent her day hunting the enemy and extinguishing their lives, but to see this vision of lost soldiers hit her much harder. She thought of Nelaros’ eyes when the life left him, how quickly they had dulled with the loss of his heartbeat. A perverse urge struck her to reach for the sheets and draw them back and her hand twitched. She clenched her hand into a fist and turned her head, heading further down the space between the two rows of bunks.
Up ahead she caught a flash of red hair and a shout of pain and she made a beeline that way, to where a healer was checking on Ser Jorys leg. The healer didn’t stop to apologise for causing his flare of discomfort, but she did hand him a vial of shining red liquid, watching as he knocked it back in one swig. She nodded and moved on to her next patient. Jorys eyes alighted on the pair walking towards him.
“How’s your leg?” Caden asked without preamble. Jory looked from her to Alistair, looking surprised to see them.
“Did you complete the task?” He asked, ignoring her and the question. Alistair nodded.
“We did. With thanks to you and Daveth for getting us as far as you did.”
Caden thought that was rather a stretch, but she supposed they had both assisted in the collection of blood at least. “How’s your leg?” She repeated evenly. Jory finally rested his gaze squarely on her.
“It’s healing.” He said bitterly. Caden bristled, suddenly cross for having sought him out at all. She’d only meant to check that he was well and had made it back in one piece. Clearly Jory was still smarting from his injury, but that wasn’t her fault and she refused to feel bad about it. She had shouted a warning.
Jory looked to Alistair again. “I shall be well enough to complete whatever task is next for us. I have already seen the Warden-Commander and discussed this with him.”
Alistair smiled and reached over to clap a hand on the mans shoulder. “Just rest for now, my friend. The Joining takes time to arrange; we can postpone until tomorrow if needs be.”
Caden frowned. That didn’t seem fair. She wasn’t exactly champing at the bit to become a fully-fledged Grey Warden, but to have it delayed by Jorys stupidity seemed rather spiteful to her and Daveth. She held back her thoughts and offered a curt nod to Jory and then turned and stalked out of the tent. Once again, her shadow hurried to catch up, which didn’t take long as even at her longest stride he easily out-paced her.
“Good to see they got back safely,” Alistair said as they headed away from the healers’ tent. Caden made a non-committal noise. “Are you… alright?” Alistair asked hesitantly.
Caden gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to get into it. She felt annoyed and her skin itched with that feeling. Her instinct was a to snipe at him, but as they were on somewhat easier terms that she couldn’t bring herself to break. So, she kept quiet, going against the urge to take it out on him. She wasn’t even sure exactly what her problem was. She didn’t particularly want to rush to the Joining, but neither did she want to put it off. Much like any other unpleasantness, she would rather it was over and done with.
Alistair sensibly kept his mouth shut and didn’t press the issue. They made their way through the rest of camp, passing Daveth cosying up to a woman who was finishing a shift at the smithy; she had soot streaked across her face and from what Caden could see, a glistening sheen of sweat across her chest. Daveth was smiling and reached out to brush a strand of damp hair off her forehead as they passed. The smith had one hand on her hip and was smirking back at him, evidently not swooning at his suggestive words, but even so she seemed quite relaxed with him. Caden felt a strange swoop in her belly to see them together. There was something so effortless about their conversation. The only people she had ever seen at such ease with one another’s closeness were her parents, who’d been married for a very long time. Seeing two seeming strangers so relaxed with one another was odd to say the least. Daveth caught sight of the Alistair and Caden walking passed and offered a quick wave, before his attention returned to his partner.
“See?” Alistair murmured. “The Blight brings everyone closer together.”
Caden hated that she gasped at what was clearly a joke, but when she risked a glance to Alistair he looked equally as shy about Daveth flirting with the smithy in the middle of camp, as she felt, so Caden decided he was probably teasing himself as much as her. She smiled softly. “I guess so.” She said weakly.
When they finally reached the Grey Wardens tents, they were quickly pointed in the exact direction of Duncan. He was in the main tent, where the Wardens held their own battle meetings and Caden let Alistair lead the way through the canvas opening. Despite the space between them, she sensed his whole body stiffen as they went inside, and it was with great curiosity that she stepped up beside him to see what was making him react like that.
Duncan was indeed at the war table, along with the golden-haired king who Caden had met and already forgotten the name of. Beside him was the taut advisor who had judged her upon her arrival to the camp, and a final man who had never seen before. He was tall like Duncan, but broader, with harsh lines across his weathered face. His black hair was loose and hung either side of his face. He looked every inch the aged general, even before she took in his heavy plate armour. The men were hovered over a map and all looked drawn.
“It’s bad news whatever way you slice it,” the king was saying. His advisor nodded. “So where is Fergus now?”
“South.” Came the reply from the advisor. “Scouting the wilds. There is no way to reach him until he returns.”
“Damn.” The king replied. “Let me know the minute he returns. He’ll want to know the news and with the Teryn and Teryna dead we can’t expect any more soldiers from Highever. Damn.” The king finally looked up and saw that Caden and Alistair were in the tent.
Caden didn’t really know how to greet them properly, so she waited nervously beside Alistair. He raised his right hand and pressed his fist to his left breast plate, bowing his head towards the king. “Your highness,” he said stiffly. Caden only hesitated a moment before copying the move and stood awkwardly until Duncan smiled over at them. “Ah, you have returned. I trust you did well?”
“We did, Duncan,” Alistair replied. Caden was confused; the jovial, easy-going man she had gotten used to was gone and in his place was this stern looking soldier. It was a disconcertingly sudden switch. She swallowed and pulled off her pack. Duncan nodded and came around to collect the items, peering inside when Caden lifted the flap to show off the treaties. Neither Alistair nor Duncan spoke, but she watched them share a look that allowed something to pass between them. She decided to keep quiet; better to come across as knowledgeable, but silent than to display her ignorance to the room.
“Excellent work, both of you.” Their commander said.
“Glad to see that Ser Jory and Daveth made it back.” Alistair said. The king looked over to them, seeming to properly notice them for the first time.
“The tenacity of the Wardens in action.” He said, grinning to the general. “You see why I need them to fight with me? When the Wardens have a task, they see it through to completion no matter what.”
The general looked over at them, clearly unimpressed by the pair. Caden met his gaze and though she wanted to shrink under the intensity in his grey eyes, she kept her back straight. “You, elf.” He said in a gruff voice. Caden felt her eyebrows twitch closer in irritation at being called elf.
“She has a name, Loghain.” The king reminded genially.
“Oh?” The man called Loghain turned to his king. “What is it, pray tell?” But the king seemed not hear him, suddenly very interested in the papers on the table. Caden felt a little better about forgetting her monarchs name now. She glanced at Duncan who gave a barely perceptible nod.
“My name is Caden Tabris, Ser.” She said, trying to keep her voice steady. She was back to feeling so lost and small in the camp and in this close space with so many tall, broad human men. She had almost forgotten how that felt.
“You look like you fought messily today.” He remarked brusquely. “Are you wearing more of your own blood or the enemies I wonder.”
Caden blanched and looked down at herself. She did look a state, with her own red lifeblood mingling with the dark ichor of those she’d killed. In addition to that mix, was her own sweat and dirt from the woods. She gathered she didn’t look anywhere near as seductive as Daveths smithy did wearing evidence of her hard work on her skin and attire.
“It’s theirs.” She replied. “I’m relatively unscathed, thank you for asking.”
“Caden fought well today,” Alistair said and the edge to his voice was clear.
“I have no doubt,” Loghain grunted in response “But some finesse wouldn’t go amiss. Save you getting quite so coated in filth.”
“Nothing a good wash won’t fix,” the king said smiling. “I’d like to see you fight tomorrow,” he added to Caden. “I’ve not had much chance to watch elves fight.”
Caden caught the slightest eyeroll from Loghain that endeared him to her, despite his imposing stature and rude comments. She didn’t really know what to say to the king in response. Duncan came to her aid.
“Tomorrow we will hold the Joining and all being well, you can watch Caden spar with the other Wardens, Cailan.” Ah, that was the name. “You are of course always welcome to observe.”
“Well, then, good luck,” Cailan said. “I shall hopefully see you tomorrow once you have joined the Wardens.” He nodded his farewell and then turned and repeated the move. “Alistair.”
“Your Highness,” Alistair said, eyes down, once again giving a small bow. Then he headed out of the tent, with Caden following behind this time. He marched halfway across their camp before he stopped abruptly. “So, bathing.” He said without dressing up his words. “You do look a terrible mess; I’ll find Lyra and she can take you to get cleaned up.”
Caden flinched. Alistair was being very curt with her all of a sudden and adding that to her embarrassment at just how overdue a thorough wash she was, was making her feel very hot and prickly. Her voice dried up in her throat and she just nodded mutely. Alistair looked around, taking advantage of his height to spy the curly headed archivist.
“Lyra!” he called and headed for her, with Caden slowly traipsing behind. “Can you take Caden to the river? She badly needs to bathe.” Another wince from Caden that Alistair didn’t acknowledge. Lyra nodded, her curls bouncing as she smiled.
“Of course,” she replied cheerily. “Let’s head to our tent first, get this armour off and find you some clothes.” Alistair was moving before Lyra finished talking and disappeared, leaving Caden to continue her silent act with Lyra now. She let herself be corralled to the tent and helped out of her armour. She didn’t even complain that Lyra had busied herself finding a spare set of clothes while Caden was in the Wilds.
The river was fast and thankfully devoid of humans when the women found it. The water was cold and Caden tried to forget that she was in her smalls beside a woman she barely knew, out in a river where anyone could happen past. She shivered and washed the water over her limbs and body, quickly going numb. The water ran brown and pink and black as the dirt and different types of blood and filth sloughed off her and sped downriver. The sun had set and the moon was rising, so she felt almost like she was bathing in moonlight. Far from being a romantic idea, it was icy and unpleasant, but once it was over, she dressed in the too big tunic and baggy trousers, stuffing the excessive cloth around her calves into her mothers’ boots. Lyra had cooed over her hair, which was long when it was loose and the night light had turned the gold to silver. Caden let the numb feeling remain after the chill abated and so let Lyra play with her long locks, plaiting it into a rope that she then wound around itself and pinned atop her head. Caden wanted to cry off dinner, but her stomach protested loudly about that thought, so she found herself back at the mess tent holding a hearty bowl of stew, bread and more fruit.
Lyra saw Caden to her seat and then, smiling, headed off to sit with the rest of the proper Wardens. Caden found herself sitting next to Alistair opposite two empty chairs. Alistair was lost in thought, ripping pieces off his hunk of bread and dropping them into his stew. It seemed like a reasonable way to eat, but Caden noticed that his eyes were glassy and his aim was off; the bread that fell in the stew only did so by accident, not design. Alistair wasn’t even aware that she was next to him so Caden, not knowing what else to do, picked up her spoon and took a mouthful of her food. The meat was goat and with one bite Caden was at once transported back to the Alienage, the smell of the stew differing only by the slightly different herbs in the bowl. Her throat tightened around the meat as she thought of her father at home alone eating a single bowl at their table built for three and she coughed. For a terrifying moment the diced goat remained wedged in her throat, but then it shifted and she was able to swallow, drawing a gulping breath. She inhaled deeply, the breath ending in a sob. Caden clamped her fist over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut to keep any tears at bay. She didn’t need to lose it; she couldn’t lose it right now. And for what? For eating similar food to what she ate back home? The flavour wasn’t exact, her portion was bigger than ever and she had fruit to accompany it. This was nothing like back home. Nothing here was like back home. The image of Cyrion eating by himself flashed back before her eyes.
Despite her growling stomach, Caden shoved the bowl of stew and bread away. She grabbed the apple and got up from the table in a rush. She tripped on the chair, knocking it to the ground, but she kept her feet. Alistair seemed to awaken from whatever reverie had claimed him and he whirled in the chair seeing her for the first time. “Caden? What’s--?”
She didn’t wait to hear him; she clung to her apple and fled from the tent.
*
Caden knew she couldn’t return to her bunk just yet. She wasn’t ready to face people yet, especially not Lyra with her perky attitude and misplaced kindness. The sky was fully dark now and the camp was sporadically lit by lanterns here and there. Caden shivered in the night air, wishing she had a cloak on. She walked blindly through the camp. It looked so different in the dark and she didn’t know her way at the best of times. She rolled the apple in her hands while she walked, if only to give her anxious fingers something to do. It was red and fat, and she was starving, but she didn’t take a bite.
After some time weaving in and out of the ruins, dodging tents and various clusters of people, Caden caught a whiff of wet fur and her curiosity propelled her onwards. She found a small encampment of pens, too small for livestock. She edged closer, peering at the pens to see what animals could possibly call this place home. She heard a whine and looked to the pen where this sorry noise had come from.
It was a dog. A huge beast of a dog by Cadens standards, but even though it was huge and probably had a mouthful of sharp teeth, this creature looked so forlorn that Cadens fears were quelled as soon as they rose within her. The dog was lying on its side, its chest rising and falling slowly. The moonlight picked up the whites of the dogs’ eye, which was the only way Caden could tell it had made an effort to look at her, gazing over the half wall into the pen. Then a noise made her start, as the dogs stubby tail started thumping rhythmically against the floor.
“Hey you,” Caden said in a hushed voice. “You don’t look so good.”
The wagging intensified, though the dog still made no move to get up. Caden relaxed further, resting her chin on her arms on the wall. “I don’t feel great either.” She said. “I don’t belong here, you see.” The dog managed to lift up its head and its mouth opened, the tongue lolling out over the lower jaw. “You look ridiculous.” Caden said with affection. She reached for her apple and took a few bites, crunching loudly in the darkness. The dog sniffed the air. “You want this? Do dogs even eat apples?” She wondered out loud.
A hand found her shoulder and Caden heard her name, but she had already leapt out of her skin. There was nowhere to go, with a hand on her back and her front against the wall and panic shot through her veins like a cold knife. Her hand jerked and the apple flew into the pen. Caden spun as well as she could, knocking her knee on the stones, but she was able to turn and her fist dove upwards and connected with the underside of a jaw. It hurt; her hand went white hot, then numb and her knee was complaining loudly. She heard growling behind her; the dog was up on shaky feet, letting its presence be known.
“Ow!” The haze of fear dulled as the familiar voice cut through. Alistair stepped back a few paces, recoiling at the punch to his face, rubbing his jaw. Caden felt a red mist descend.
“You arsehole.” She snapped her breathing fast and ragged. “I told you not to just grab me, what were you doing, what were you thinking, you can’t… you can’t just sneak up on me…”
Her words stumbled over each other and fell out of her mouth in a heated rush. Her anger was too hot and fast for her tongue to make sense of the things she needed to say.
Alistair looked down at Caden, his hand still tenderly feeling the point where she had struck him She felt a poisonous glee that he was in pain. “Caden, I’m sorry. I thought you heard me.”
Caden was shaking with rage, her distress and fury too fierce to calm down yet. She had told him, hadn’t she? Not to just grab people? Had he really not realised she meant her? What would it take for him to learn?
“This hurts, by the way,” Alistair said, gesturing to his jaw. Caden felt a new spike of irritation at his complaint, but to her surprise he chuckled. “Good arm.”
The unexpected compliment cut through the hot waves of rage and she felt the first signs of it abating. In the pen, the dog had stopped growling and Caden suddenly her the crunch of her apple. She glanced over her shoulder to see the dog with apple juice all over its muzzle. “I guess they do eat apples after all.”
Alistair moved his jaw from side to side, making it click. Caden winced. “That one does at any rate.” Then he sighed. “Caden, I’m really sorry for frightening you. I should be better at this by now. I’m sorry.”
The apology sounded sincere, but Caden couldn’t help but note that it was by no means the first apology he had given her. “Don’t do it again, and I might forgive you.” She warned. She was in no mood to feel any more stupid and jumpy. She lowered her hands, feeling her fists unclench finally. She was still hungry, but mostly she was tired. “Can you direct me back to the Wardens tents?” Caden asked. “I think I’d best get to bed before I get any more lost.”
“Of course,” Alistair replied. “Big day tomorrow. The Joining.”
“I can’t wait,” Caden deadpanned. They walked back to the Wardens tents in the quiet darkness.