Chapter Text
PART THREE - REDCLIFFE AND KINLOCH
But you’re not lost on your own
The journey to Redcliffe took longer than Caden would have liked, helped no doubt by the fact that she and Alistair were barely speaking. After their fight five days ago, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to try to get things on friendlier terms again. Her grievances remained firmly in place, growing fresh layers every day, strengthening her walls against letting him in again. He would learn how long she could hold a grudge for.
When it felt petty and petulant, which if she admitted it, was most nights just before falling asleep; when she felt a few pangs of guilt at how she was punishing him; when she felt like a fraud for maintaining the illusion that Nelaros had ever been her husband, as if his death as her betrothed wasn’t tragic enough; in those moments she would force herself to list the ways Alistair had messed up. An exercise in resentment, she remembered each time he had minimised her ongoing wariness of human men, how he’d patted himself on the back for not being deliberately awful, yet had continued to say inadvertently stupid things, such as that the elves in Lothering had chosen not to integrate. Maybe he couldn’t know first-hand how hard it was to be an elf, to be a woman, but it wasn’t her job to educate him. That more than anything stoked the flames of her ire and prevented her from issuing any forgiveness on the matter.
It was impossible to hide that they were at odds with each other in such a small group. The urgency to reach Redcliffe kicked up a notch after that first night and they pressed on with fervour, and perhaps that would have been enough to placate the others, but when Caden refused to speak to Alistair at camp it became more obvious. Leliana and Morrigan were more obvious in their observations of Cadens silent treatment of her fellow Warden, with Leliana trying to draw both into conversation over dinner, while Morrigan just watched amused and intrigued. Sten gave no sign he saw anything amiss, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just really good at shuttering his true feelings.
The only time Caden almost slipped in her campaign against Alistair came on the third night. They were working in shifts, splitting the overnight watch into threes and allowing two to get a full night’s sleep in the tent where possible. Caden had insisted on being first watch every night previous and stayed up much later than was planned in order to be so exhausted at her time to sleep that she was better equipped at sleeping without dreams, but on the third night Alistair put his foot down and with unanimous agreement from the group (admittedly only Leliana voted, the other two abstained) it was decided that Caden go to bed in the tent and try to get some decent sleep.
That was the night she saw the horde again.
Her dreams began with darkspawn. She felt through the mind of a genlock as they began the slow crawl towards Lothering. She watched the ground grow sick as they advanced, how they tore down trees in their way and trampled everything in their wake. Lothering was their destination and they would be there soon. It was exciting to the horde, the promise of fresh meat in their starving bellies after several days without feeding, the food at Ostagar now exhausted.
That was a bad enough dream, but after a while the horrifying images of the mess left at Ostagar grew more personal. She watched the memories of the genlock of the blank stares of the corpses on the battlefield and a pair of pale green eyes drew her gaze. The genlock drifted away and still her minds eye remained fixed on that face. With the unsettling time travel of dreams, she was no longer at Ostagar. She was back in Vaughans estate watching Nelaros bleed out. As she watched the pool of blood, the body blinked his eyes and Nelaros sat up. He looked down at his wound, sadly pressing a hand to the gash, which came away red and wet. He opened his mouth far wider than would have been able to do in life and moaned, long and low, the sound cutting through Caden like nothing ever had before. She tried to say something, to apologise to him, to the wailing body of the only person who had ever tried to help her, and found her words cut off. Hands wrapped around her neck and squeezed and she fought against the breathlessness and started to scream—
“Caden, Caden, wake up!” In the dark, in the tent, with her dog whining somewhere she felt hands shaking her and lashed out. Her nails found soft skin and she dug them in, scratching desperately. “Ow! Stop, it’s me.” Her wrist was enveloped in a calloused hand, gently, not roughly despite her attack and she’d managed to focus in the dark on the face before her.
“Alistair,” she spluttered. Relief washed through her as the realisation hit that she was awake and far from trapped in the horrors her mind could conjure up. It couldn’t hurt her while she was awake. “You’re not him… it’s you.”
“What?”
“Thank Andraste.” Her breathing slowed, her heart rate beginning to return to normal. She forgot she was mad at him and instead, her free hand gripped onto his forearm. Anchoring her to this place. She wasn’t in danger. She was safe.
If he was confused by her reaction to hold onto him, he didn’t show it, but when he unlatched his fingers from her wrist, she hurried to grip his hand in hers. Her grasp was firm and needy. She felt she might have fallen back into the dream if she let go.
“You were having a bad dream,” Alistair said in the dark. Stating the obvious, but not in a way that annoyed her. She nodded. “Not about the darkspawn?” She shook her head, too wrapped up in the climax of the dream to worry about the way it had started. Breathing was easier, but still it was what she focused on. She could feel the leap in Alistairs pulse at his wrist where she curled her fingers into his skin. It was steady and she matched her breathing to it. I’m here, not there. I’m safe. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No.” She said. It hadn’t meant to sound so brusque, but she wasn’t ready for full sentences.
“Who were you talking about before?” Alistair asked, ignoring her answer.
“He’s dead.” Caden said by way of a reply and it was true. Vaughan was dead and couldn’t hurt her. Nelaros was dead and she couldn’t help him.
“Alright.” Alistair said, shifting so he could sit rather than crouch. He didn’t try to take his hand away from her. “Do you want some herbs?”
“No.” Caden shook her head. “Won’t help. Won’t wake.”
“Fine.” The tent flap rustled as Rosa crawled in on her belly. Alistair reached over to scratch her ears. “Rosa came to get me. You weren’t making enough noise to wake anyone. Everyone else is still asleep.” Rosa rolled over onto her side, to let Alistair rub her belly with his free hand. “Have you had bad dreams since before the Joining?”
“Yes.”
“That’s rough. Can we talk about our fight?”
“No.” When she finally remembered that she was angry with him, she reluctantly pulled away from him, letting go of his hand. She missed the calming thrum of his pulse.
“Well, we need to.” Alistair refuted, before taking a deep breath and beginning: “We can’t go on like this. You don’t have to be my friend, but I consider you mine. I don’t want you to be miserable all the time and I’m sorry for causing that.” His words, though caring, were delivered curtly, and with practised authority.
“Get some sleep.” Caden said, climbing over Rosa and past Alistair. She wasn’t interested. “I’ll take watch now.”
He hadn’t followed her out.
It had made it harder to keep up her rage.
Now they crested the hill towards a bridge and a waterfall and Caden could see down below a town the sprawled through a valley towards a vast lake. Further on up the cliff was a towering castle. The sheer sides of the cliff that overlooked the water was a rusty red colour. It was easy to see how they had come up with the name. She wondered what the lake was called. Perhaps Big Water?
Alistair came up alongside her. He hadn’t tried to do that since the fight. “Caden? Now that we’re here, I really need to talk to you about something.”
Caden looked out over the town, at the moored boats in the docks and the square that looked remarkably empty for a mid-afternoon. It wasn’t a city of course, but it seemed so different from what she was used to watching the market in Denerim. “Is it always so quiet?”
Alistair barely glanced where she was looking and when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she could see his fingers fiddling with a buckle. “Caden, please. This is important.”
She turned. “Is it?” Her tone was glum and her gaze kept stealing back to the peaceful lake water, so still compared with the river that cascaded over rocks noisily beside them. “This is where you grew up right?”
“Yes, and I’d rather tell you about this, than… than have you hear it from someone else.”
A spark of something lit inside her, both generous and punishing vying for her attention. So, he didn’t want her to hear about something from his past from someone other than him? This was a chance to be the bigger person, it seemed.
She quashed it. She could live with being small. “Let’s not delay our entry on that account. After all, I’m sure I’ll learn all about it in no time.” She started for the bridge that lead down into the valley or heading upwards towards the castle, ignoring the resigned hurt on Alistairs face. “Shall we go to the town or the castle first?”
As she headed for the bridge she heard Morrigan say something cutting about tasting his own medicine and Alistairs snapped “shut up Morrigan.” Shame crept over her and she stopped, turning back. Alistair was glowering now, face turned down. Maybe she should extend the hand of friendship after all. He maintained she was his friend, and perhaps he was so insistent on that because all of his other friends were dead and he had grown up an orphan. He literally didn’t have anyone else. It was cruel to deny him, safe in the knowledge that she had left behind dear friends and a loving family who she was hopeful to return to one day.
“Oh, thank goodness!” She whirled as grateful words cut through her thoughts. A young man was hurrying across the bridge towards them. “Have you come to help?”
“Help?” Now he was all business. Alistair pushed to the front, concern across his features. “What do you mean?”
“Please, follow me.”
*
“Let me get this straight.” Caden said, rubbing her eyes wearily. They had come to a halt outside the Chantry. Holy buildings were apparently all the rage for people hiding from their troubles. She supposed it made sense. “The Arl has all but vanished in his sickness, his army have been scattered and…” this was the difficult part to swallow, “the dead are attacking the town every night? Have I got all that right?”
“This is bad, this is so bad.” Alistair was muttering as the young man, Tomas, affirmed Cadens summary. “Why has no-one tried to get to the castle? I need to know how Arl Eamon is.”
“He could be dead for all we know,” Tomas bemoaned. “No-ones been able to get close—we have tried. The horrible dead things come out of there!”
“Makers Breath.” Alistair looked like he might be sick with this news. Caden sighed.
“Who’s in charge here?”
Tomas pushed the Chantry doors open. “This way. I’ll take you to Bann Teagan.”
Alistairs head snapped up. “Teagan? Thank goodness.” His eyes scanned the distance to the altar at the head of the Chantry and, spying a man ahead, he burst forwards overtaking their guide. Caden caught the bemused eye of Leliana and they lengthened their strides to catch up.
“Do you know who that is?” Caden muttered to Leliana as they drew up. Alistair was speaking with the man she assumed was Bann Teagan. Leliana shrugged.
“Alistair,” the man was saying when Caden got close enough to hear. “Oh, thank the Maker you are alive. We heard that the Grey Wardens were slaughtered at Ostagar and we all feared that you were amongst them. Bad enough losing Cailan, but—”
“Teagan,” Alistair interrupted turning to the group. “I was not the only Warden to survive Ostagar.” He gestured with an open palm to Caden. “This is Warden Tabris.”
Teagan inclined his head in greeting. “Well met, Warden Tabris. I am Bann Teagan, Arl Eamons brother.”
“Oh,” understanding blossomed. This was why Alistair was so pleased that this man was around. Even with his gratitude, Alistair still looked pale and shaky. It occurred to Caden that Alistair was taking the news of Redcliffes circumstances very badly, but then she supposed this had been the place he knew of as home. A thought sparked that maybe Alistair was not just the adopted ward of Arl Eamon. Perhaps they were in fact related by blood and maybe that was what he had been trying to tell her by the waterfall. She realised she hadn’t said anything to greet Bann Teagan and the moments were stretching on. “It’s nice to meet you.” She offered. “So, what’s going on here? Does your brother still live? We need his assistance against the Blight.”
Alistair made a choking sound as Teagan raised his brows. Caden stood firm; there was no time for wasting time with pleasantries. “I certainly hope he still draws breath.” Teagan said slowly. “Did Tomas fill you in?”
“He said dead things were attacking the town every night.” Caden said, once again not quite believing what she was saying.
“It’s true.” Teagan confirmed. “It started a few nights ago. They poured from the castle after nightfall, dozens of men, or so I thought. When they drew closer the smell hit first. Their skin was rotting off their bodies as they fought.” He shook his head, eyes haunted. “I am amazed with were able to drive them back; they just kept coming no matter how gravely we wounded them. A new wave hit the next night, and the next. I am terrified we will lose everything the longer it goes on.”
“Have you called for assistance from anyone?” Caden asked.
“I have, of course.” Teagan replied. “But Teryn Loghain is too busy starting a damn civil war to help and that is apparently keeping everyone far too busy to send any aid.”
“That bastard,” Alistair growled.
“I can believe that.” Caden said. “We have just come from Lothering, where their Bann left his people to starve and face the horde of darkspawn alone. No-one is taking the Blight seriously.”
“Apart from you?” Teagan asked, archly.
“That has been my experience so far, yes.” Was Cadens short comeback. “We need Arl Eamons aid for the next battle, so we need to get him well. What ails him?”
“We don’t know.” Teagan admitted. “I haven’t seen him since he fell ill.” He sighed heavily. “I have to ask; will you please help us tonight? Help us stand off against the next attack?” His eyes searched Cadens, then shifted to Alistairs. “Please Alistair. For the sake of Eamon.”
“Of course, we’ll help.” He said. Caden turned slowly around to face him. He was waiting for her and his face was pleading. “We have to.” He said to Caden.
“Alistair is right, we must help.” Leliana asserted before Caden could speak. She lifted her narrowed eyes to the Sister; one more person to please with decisions that apparently were falling to her.
Morrigan was crossing her arms. “How pointless an exercise.” She complained. Sten said nothing.
Alistairs eyes were large and imploring. “Caden, we can’t do nothing.”
Caden opened her mouth to reply, when she caught sight of a small crowd forming at the edge of the space they were in. She was immediately drawn to the sight of clusters of children standing, watching them. There seemed to be a lot more children than there were adults, which didn’t quite mean that they had all been orphaned by the past few nights events… but neither could she believe it wasn’t true. Her heart thumped sadly. “We’ll help.”
*
The rest of the afternoon was a blur of activity.
At least it was for some of them.
Mayor Murdock had been the person to speak to, so Teagan said, therefore the Wardens had headed for where he was trying to rally together what was left of the towns militia. Alistair had left it to Caden to do the talking, but Murdock had other ideas. “I heard Tomas brought some elf to see Bann Teagan.” His unimpressed gaze swept over Caden. “That’ll be you then.”
Caden bristled. “Your powers of deduction are astonishing; must be why they made you mayor.”
His brow raised in surprise, but he didn’t call her out on her sass. “And a Grey Warden I understand?” He made a harrumph under his bushy moustache. “Didn’t think they made women Grey Wardens.”
At this point Caden half turned away, biting her tongue. She glanced at Alistair, who’s ears were red with…what, she wondered. Embarrassment on her behalf? She wanted to grab him by those flaming ears and haul him down to her level and snap: you see what I have to deal with?
Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the weary mayor, speaking through gritted teeth. “We’re here to help. What do you need?”
Plenty, it turned out. Which was how Sten came to be running the militia through their paces, Leliana ended up helping the Sisters bandage the wounded as well as giving the archers pointers, Alistair disappeared into talks with the remaining handful of Templars in the town and even Morrigan found a use for some barrels of oil in an abandoned store room. As Caden walked through the town, searching for anyone who was interested in her help she lost her dog to the children. This at least she didn’t mind; Rosas playful side was desperately needed by these tired, scared children. Caden was happy to leave her playing by the waters side with them.
It was a far cry from being the woman who not yet a week ago had stood before a great crowd and talked to them about the coming horde and why they had to go and how much danger they were in. They’d listened to her, cared about what she had to say. For a short time, she had felt every inch a Grey Warden, a soldier commanding the attention of the people. Now she was back to being a simple little elf girl who no-one had time for.
During one circuit of the town square she heard Murdock clapping Alistair on the back and congratulating him on managing to get someone called Owen to come on board and make more weapons. A cheer rose up, smiles on the faces of the battle worn townsfolk and Alistair looked pleased. Caden could have spit in that moment and she hated herself for feeling jealous. She turned and headed further away from the square, not feeling Alistairs eyes on her retreating back.
*
The only way he was able to follow her so quietly was because she was clearly too wrapped up in her thoughts to notice him. Not that he was trying to sneak, but nor was he really trying to get her attention either. If he just so happened to be stealthier than usual, well that was a coincidence. Caden headed down a narrow path that wound along the lake and then behind the buildings. There was a driftwood wall just on the outskirts of the town, and it was there that Caden headed. Alistair looked around; this was the Redcliffe Alienage. Not a place he had ever really tried to get to when he had lived in town, though he knew it was always there. Caden disappeared inside the archway that formed the entrance to the walled section of the town.
Getting closer to the archway, Alistair heard voices. They called to Caden, called her sister, greeted her with warmth though she had said she had never left her own Alienage to meet any other elves. From his vantage point he peered around the wall to see Caden speaking animatedly with the other elves, asking them how they had fared, whether they had been protected or had they had to fend for themselves? She looked more relaxed here than she had back in the main part of town, friendlier than she had looked to Alistair since their fight. He watched her with gloom in his heart. He didn’t know how to bring this ease to her. Their friendship, or what he considered to be such, was always so fraught with danger. He decided to leave her well enough alone and turned back to the village to rally more troops if there were any more to rally.
Teagan met him on his way back. He glanced back along the route Alistair had come from with a question in his eyes. Alistair followed his gaze. “Oh, I was just checking on the Alienage.” He said, unsure why he was keeping Cadens name out of his explanation. “Have they been looked after during the past weeks troubles?”
“They’ve not been helping to fight, if that’s what you mean.” Teagan said, uncharacteristically bitter. Alistair felt a frown creep over his brow.
“They surely aren’t expected to fight.” Alistair replied. “I can’t imagine they would know how to.”
“It’ll be on their doorstop soon enough whether they want to fight or not.” Teagan said. It didn’t feel like an adequate rebuttal Alistair felt, but he didn’t press the issue. Teagan tugged gently at his small beard. “Your companions are… interesting.”
Alistair couldn’t help but chuckle as they fell into step to walk back to the town. The lake beside them seemed so peaceful and quiet. “That is the truth of the matter.” He gave.
“I’m not certain which one is the most perplexing.” Teagan went on. “The Qunari is certainly imposing, but having watched him with the men it makes sense. I expect he fights like a beast. That’s someone you want beside you in a battle. The woman… Leliana?”
“That’s right.”
“You found her in a Chantry?” Teagan asked, seeking confirmation, which Alistair gave with a nod of his head. Teagan let out a breath, shaking his head in wonderment. “She’s far too beautiful to waste it on the religious life.” His laugh was low and heated Alistairs cheeks. He kept his head down as his sort-of uncle continued. “And she’s adept with that bow. There’s a history there and I’ll wager she’s no shrinking violet. You could have some fun there.” His elbow jostled Alistair’s, who said nothing. Teagan chuckled. “Well, someone should.”
“It’s hardly the first thing on my mind,” Alistair refuted weakly. “I was raised in a monastery, don’t forget.”
“Oh, you were raised here,” Teagan waved away Alistairs reply. “There’s no need to get shy now.” They reached the town and Teagan stopped, appraising what he could see. “The mage is a surprise.” Alistair glanced at Teagan who was watching Morrigan cross the square, her magic staff strapped to her back. She wasn’t hiding away like she had at Lothering. Perhaps, as they were all to be fighting later, she deemed it unnecessary to pretend she didn’t exist. Perhaps she simply no longer cared. Alistair would be the last to know. “An apostate I presume? Yes, very interesting that you would have her travel with you.” Teagan was back to rubbing his bearded chin as he worked everything out for himself. “I suppose having someone with magical ability makes sense, but why draw the wrong kind of attention to yourself?”
“She and her mother saved us from Ostagar,” Alistair admitted. “It seemed churlish to refuse additional help.”
“Us?”
“Yes,” Alistair nodded, confused. “Caden and me.”
“Oh, right.” Teagan said with a frown that didn’t serve to clarify anything.
“What is it?” Alistair asked. “I told you we were both Wardens.”
“I suppose so,” Teagan said. “It’s hard to believe. I knew Duncan of course and few of your other brothers and you, but Caden doesn’t quite fit the standard. It’s strange.”
Alistair looked away, his hand at the pommel of his sword, fiddling with the leather wrapped haft. “What makes you say that?”
Teagan shrugged. “I suppose it’s her size that’s throwing me: she’s tiny. The rest of you are all…” Teagan’s words seemed to fail him as he gestured to Alistairs height and broad shoulders.
Sorrow and irritation made for a sour mixture in his throat. Teagan couldn’t have known any better, of course, but that thought didn’t make it any more palatable. Alistair turned to Bann Teagan and squared up to him. He was taller than Teagan by a few inches, which made a huge change from the last time they had conversed, when Alistair had been a young lad, covered in mud. Before the monastery, before the Wardens. “The rest of us are dead.” He said softly. He didn’t actually want to tear strips off Teagan, he merely wanted to set him right. “Of all the Wardens in all Ferelden there are only two of us alive. That’s me and that’s Caden. There’s no standard to fit into. Besides, even before Ostagar and our near total destruction Caden was a formidable fighter. Just wait, Teagan. Wait until you see her tonight.” A moments consideration and Alistair leaned closer, dropping his voice. “There is a reason why Caden was assigned to partner up with me during Ostagar. That order came from the King himself.”
Teagans eyes narrowed and widened so quickly it was almost comical. Almost. Alistair clamped a hand onto Teagans shoulder briefly, then headed away into the square.