Chapter 109: Insurance

The next morning, I found a very subdued Aedan sitting by the fire, dark bags under his eyes testifying that he hadn’t slept well. No one else was around, though it wasn’t that early by our normal standards, and I wondered if the sour expression on his face had scared everyone off. I sat down beside my brother and took his hand, resting my head on his shoulder as I picked at cold jerky I had fished out of my pack. We didn’t speak; I handed Aedan and Alistair some of the jerky, and we ate together in silence as we waited for the new Grey Wardens to wake.

About an hour later, the three men emerged from their tents one at a time, I assumed mostly drawn by hunger; Aedan had made an enormous pot of porridge, anticipating the need, and handed each of the men a bowl without a word. Once the three of them had finished of seconds and then thirds, he finally stood, glaring at them balefully.

“So would anyone like to explain what in the void that was all about? This was your idea, I’m sure of it.” He glared at Zevran.

Sten and Oghren remained impassive, turning their gazes to assassin, who winced. “Amore mio...”

“Just explain it? Please? What were you thinking?”

Zevran sighed. “I overheard you, yesterday. The three of you with Duncan in the command tent.”

“You were eavesdropping?”

“Not originally, no. I wanted to ask you something, and it was only when I got inside that I heard you talking about sensitive topics. And my natural curiosity kicked in when I realised you were discussing Grey Warden secrets.”

Aedan shuffled his feet, pouty expression still sullen, but suddenly I thought I knew exactly what had happened.

“You didn’t tell me, amore mio, that the Grey Warden who kills the Archdemon will die.” The assassin’s expression was recriminating.

“Zev-”

Zevran cut him off. “I know Duncan intends to be the one, but we all know that nothing is preordained. He could perish before getting near the beast. If you thought I would allow you, any of you, to take the risk of being the one, when I could prevent it, you are much mistaken.”

Aedan put his hands over his face, shuddering slightly. Zevran stood and wrapped one arm around Aedan’s shoulders, whispering something I couldn’t hear into his ear; Aedan drooped even further. Obviously uncomfortable with the emotional display, Oghren turned to me and picked up where Zevran had left off.

“The elf told me and big guy that he was gonna volunteer, and I wasn’t about to let the swishy nug-licker show me up.”

I snorted a laugh, and Zevran grinned at him. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, my dwarven friend. I can pretend you didn’t agree to it after finding out Sierra could be forced to make the killing blow.”

The dwarf flushed, and I gaped. “Oghren?”

“Whatever. Ancestors’ hairy asses, I know I owe you – all of you. I might be a no-good, drunken, exiled, useless dwarf, but I pay my debts. Don’t make it out to be more than it is.”

I blushed, knowing it was the closest the berserker was ever likely to come to admitting that he cared about any of us, and I was pleased to be included in that group. I squeezed his shoulder, and he smirked at me before waggling his eyebrows and asking if the rumours he’d heard about other Grey Warden ‘appetites’ were true, and if I’d care to demonstrate. Alistair wrapped an arm around me possessively, I slapped the back of Oghren’s head, and Zevran chuckled lewdly.

Aedan finally looked up, expression bleak.

“I didn’t want this for you.” He looked from Zevran to Oghren and Sten. “Any of you. Do you know you could have died?”

“We could have died, amore mio, any time in the last year. Killed by darkspawn, bandits, or trying to save an idiot from himself, what does it matter? We could have become tainted, ended up as ghouls. It doesn’t matter, now, yes? We all survived.”

Sten, looking longingly at the now-empty pot of porridge, sighed. “Parshaara! Enough. It is done. There will be three more Grey Wardens between the Archdemon and the destruction of Thedas. Is that not enough reason? Why must this endless discussion be necessary?”

“Sten ... I understand why Zevran Joined, honestly, and Oghren was always going to end up as a Grey Warden, but...” I trailed off, confused.

Sten scoffed, refusing to answer, giving me the stoic Qunari silent treatment he always resorted to. Instead, Zevran answered. “What he meant is there will be three more Grey Wardens between the Archdemon and the only two people in Ferelden he respects, mia sorella. That was all I had to say.”

Sten growled. “I was sent by the Arishok to answer a question. I will have more to tell him now. And there are no Grey Wardens in Seheron. What if the darkspawn tunnel that far? I will protect my people. That is enough.”

Alistair chuckled in my ear, quietly enough that only I would be able to hear him. “Leliana was right. He is a softie.”

I snickered quietly, earning myself a disapproving glare from the softie in question.

“Enough talk!” Oghren stood up and belched loudly. “Now, by the soggy tits of my Ancestors, where’s the rest of my breakfast?”

In the afternoon, scouts returned from the Wilds, indicating that they had seen the forces heading west toward Redcliffe, but Teagan had reported himself in position, so we weren’t too worried. The same scouts reported horde movements heading for a particular battalion, and the rest of the messengers hurried off to get the other groups moving. The mages and bola launchers headed out, and our camp began to pack up, hopefully for the last time.

It wasn’t until Riordan returned with Dougal and Conrad that we had a definitive report of the Archdemon leading the horde. Apparently it had sensed them, as they scouted in the Wilds, and had done a flashy fly-over, choosing not to attack them, presumably for the same reason it had left Duncan alone in the Deep Roads. Riordan hadn’t been as badly affected as Duncan, but he’d apparently been a bit dazed after, and had taken a while to shake it off. The other two were fine, so clearly it was something about being so close to their Calling rather than just being a Warden in general.

I found it strange that Duncan was so much more advanced with the taint than Riordan; Duncan had postulated that his exposure to the Architect and whatever magic he’d used to accelerate the taint in Fiona and the other Wardens that had encountered him hadn’t been entirely ameliorated by the dagger he’d stolen from the corrupt First Enchanter. No one could suggest any other explanation, so we sort of accepted it, if reluctantly.

We marched out and made camp several hours north of where we had been, the Wardens sharing space with Cailan, Sereda, Lanaya, Greagoir, Irving, several of the human and dwarven nobles, and their retinues. The three groups of Wardens would head south as soon as the location of the generals and the Archdemon were available, and I would stay with Cailan, overlooking the battle from a small cliff. The mages and bola launchers had joined the battalion down below us, ready to down the Archdemon as soon as it was in range.

We had an awkward ‘last supper’, no one wishing to appear too grim, but everyone knowing that any one of us could be missing from our next group meal. Conversation was stilted, and finally after enough uncomfortable silence, I asked a question I’d been dying to ask since we’d left Haven, but hadn’t had the guts. It seemed a good enough distraction to justify the discomfort asking might have brought.

“Those of us who were at the Temple of Sacred Ashes ... what did you all see, after we passed the Guardian?”

Those who hadn’t been present watched the rest with interest; the stories had been told enough times that they knew what I was asking, even if they hadn’t been there. Everyone else shifted uncomfortably.

“I’ll start. I saw my father. Our father,” I amended, glancing at Aedan. “He told me that I was his daughter, and asked Aedan and I to take care of each other.”

“He told me to stop living with the guilt of leaving them behind,” Aedan added. “That he loved us, and was proud of us.” I hugged Aedan, and he rested his cheek against my head briefly.

No one spoke for a moment, and then Morrigan broke the silence. “I saw my mother ... Flemeth. She was not dead, obviously, just speaking with me through the fade. She taunted me, saying she would be watching me. That was when I knew that if I wished to survive as myself, I would have to ask for help to kill her.” I reached out and squeezed her hand, surprised but pleased to see Solona do the same with her other hand.

“You know we’ll protect you, Morrigan, if you let us.” Solona looked earnestly at the witch.

Morrigan flushed and huffed, slightly offended.

“No one is saying you aren’t capable, Morrigan,” I interrupted before she could make some typical abrasive comment, “just that we are here for you if you need anything. We are your friends, if you will have us.”

She relaxed, and eventually even returned the squeeze I gave her fingers, before excusing herself from the group and slipping off, out of the camp.

Zevran went next. “I saw ... a former lover. She forgave me.” He didn’t mention specifics, but I knew it had to be Rinna. Aedan reached out and clasped his hand, and Zevran smiled at him appreciatively. “She told me I could be a better man in future than I was when I was with her. I didn’t know what she meant, at first, but I think I’m finally learning.”

Leliana sighed. “I saw a former companion from when I was a bard – another one Marjolaine betrayed. He died before I escaped. He also forgave me for getting him involved, and for not being able to save him. He told me ... to live my life, not to let others dictate my future.”

From the prequel to the game, I vaguely remembered a dwarf and an elven mage who had been captured with Leliana. I couldn’t recall which had not survived, but I supposed it didn’t matter. Leliana’s vague smile indicated the forgiveness had lightened the weight on her shoulders, and I was glad for her.

Sten grunted and stood. “I do not wish to discuss it.” He turned and headed towards his tent, and we all let him go. I felt a pang of guilt, hoping I hadn’t unintentionally hurt him. I had assumed he might see one of the other Qunari who’d accompanied him from Seheron, but given his response, I doubted it.

Watching him go, Alistair spoke without looking at any of us. “I saw Maric.” It was almost a whisper. “He ... he told me he was proud of me. He told me that, in the rebellion, he didn’t know what to do, at first; that he didn’t know how to lead. He followed his mother, and then Loghain ... anyone who would take the responsibility from him. But when he had no choice, he learned he could lead if he had to, that eventually he even enjoyed parts of it. He told me to trust myself, and to stand up and take responsibility, unless I wanted to live a life of regrets because I allowed someone else to make my decisions for me.” He looked over at me with a sudden, mischievous grin. “He told me he liked you, too.” I blushed and hid my face in his shoulder while everyone laughed.

That night, the Wardens had one last meeting, all sixteen of the Wardens and I crowded into one large tent. Loghain objected to me being there, but Duncan ignored him and kept talking.

He divided the sixteen of them, plus Morrigan and Leliana, into three groups.

“Riordan, Conrad, Dougal, Loghain, Morrigan, and I will be the first group. Our primary goal will be the Archdemon. Group two, led by Aedan, and group three, led by Alistair, will initially seek out the generals we expect to accompany the horde. Do not engage the main body of the horde. Defend yourselves as necessary, but as much as possible, go around, not through. Find the generals, defeat them, and then rally to wherever the Archdemon lands when it is grounded. Understood?” Duncan’s expression was grim and sorrowful; I knew we were all wondering which of our friends we would be mourning in the next few days.