Chapter 113: Mourning

After a night spent reassuring ourselves with sight, taste, and touch that we were both alive and unharmed, I rose the next morning, tired but feeling better than I’d felt in months. Knowing that battle was hanging over our heads was a heavier weight than I’d thought. Alistair was still asleep, his golden hair slightly scruffy and spread about him like a short, spiky lion’s mane, and after a few minutes watching him sleep, I was restless. I eased out of his arms, threw on a pair of smalls and a linen dress, and slipped out of the tent in the early morning light.

My brother and his love were sitting around the fire, and I snuggled up between them without a word, leeching heat and enjoying the fact of their continued existence. Aedan put his arm around me, and Zevran squeezed my hand as I sighed in contentment.

Both men were clean, and I assumed they’d made good use of my shower head. I hoped that they’d passed it on, after, and that I’d get it back eventually, but for now, I couldn’t even bring myself to care. We sat that way as Aedan made the morning porridge, serving all of us Warden-sized bowls, and we ate together companionably. Leliana, clean but looking somewhat rumpled, came into the camp, blushing slightly as she saw the three of us looking at her. She hurried into her tent, as I narrowed my eyes suspiciously.

“Where do you suppose she slept last night?” I asked.

Zevran smirked. “Unfortunate you don’t know any ridiculously awesome, talented rogues who could tell you that information.”

I looked at him in surprise. “You know?” A slight widening of his smug smile was his only response. “Who?” He continued to grin without answering. “Come on, share, mio fratello. No fair keeping gossip this good to yourself!”

He didn’t answer. Aedan was laughing at my irritation, and I knew I had even less chance of getting him to tell me if he thought it was funnier to keep it from me.

“Don’t make me go wake Alistair. I’ll make him hold you down while I tickle you.”

Zevran paled slightly, even as he objected, “But I am not ticklish, cara. It won’t work.”

I examined his face, carefully neutral expression poorly hiding his concern. “Uh huh, sure you’re not.” I crooked my fingers in his direction, threatening his ribs, and he shifted uncomfortably.

“You’re wasting your time. A Crow does not crack under torture. A Crow-”

I darted my hand in, finding his vulnerable waist through the thin cloth of his tunic, and squeezed; he squealed in a less-than-manly fashion, and Aedan and I cracked up completely.

“Fine, fine. I shall give you a hint and see if you can guess. Fereldan, noble, attractive in a broody sort of way.”

I considered, but then shook my head, gesturing for him to tell me more.

“Dark hair. Strong arms.”

I thought about it for a few minutes, and realised I needed one other piece of information. “Male or female?” Please don’t let it be Cauthrien ... please don’t let it be Cauthrien...

“Male.”

It couldn’t have been, but... “Nate?” I whispered.

“Got it on the first guess, sis.” Aedan chuckled. “She’s spent a lot of time with our tormented, noble archer.”

Thinking about it, I realised in game, the two never would have met. I had no way of knowing if they’d hit it off. “Really? How didn’t I know this?”

“Well, she wasn’t exactly advertising it, but you’ve also been a bit ... distracted, I suppose, with your own romantic issues.” Aedan stuck his tongue out at me.

“I’m not having romantic issues, for possibly the first time since I’ve been in Thedas.”

“What your dearest brother means to say, mia sorella, is that you’ve perhaps been more focused on your rather ... enthusiastic response to wedded bliss.”

“Are you saying I’ve been having too much sex to notice?”

Aedan put his hands over his ears and started singing to himself to prevent hearing me talk about sex, and I elbowed him in the side as I rolled my eyes.

Zevran just laughed. “Well, cara mia, you know now you’ve missed out on one budding relationship, but have you noticed who else hasn’t been alone in his tent lately?”

“Conrad, obviously.”

“Well, yes, but no one knew about that, bella donna, even me. No, I mean the other Orlesian Warden.”

“Riordan?” I was startled; in game he’d seemed so ... focused. Single-minded, almost.

“No, no. The more distinguished looking gentleman with the two-handed hammer.”

“Dougal?” I was stunned. “Dougal’s got a girl – wait, is it a girl? – in his tent?”

“It’s a girl, alright.” Aedan’s scowl transformed to a smirk.

“I object - I’d have to call her a woman, yes? No mere girl has a magical bosom like hers.” Zevran outlined a curvy female shape with his hands, and Aedan choked.

I stared at him, open-mouthed in shock. “Wynne?” I was shouting, until Aedan gestured to keep quiet. “Wynne and Dougal?” I whispered. “But that’s so...”

“Perfect?” Aedan suggested. “At least, I think it is. She said it isn’t serious, just two people who’ve been through a lot giving the other companionship. He’s still going back to Orlais when we’re done with the clean-up.”

“So she’s having a ... fling? I’m sorry, I think you broke my brain.”

“Cara,” Zevran chided. “You should not be so close-minded. They are both adults, yes? And they may have grey hair, but that does not mean they can’t enjoy a little physical pleasure to keep the loneliness at bay. I’d think you would be pleased they found any happiness.”

The more I thought about it, the less weird it seemed, somehow. Zevran was right. “I am. I’m happy for them, if they’re happy with it. I was just shocked, is all. In the game ... well, Wynne wasn’t receptive to any of that sort of thing. I’m just surprised.” I wonder if Greagoir knows?

“You’ve changed lots of things, sister.” Aedan kissed my hair as he squeezed me slightly. “All of them for the better.”

I winced as an image flashed through my mind: Duncan, blood pooling around him as Cailan wrenched an axe out of his side. Guessing why I flinched, Aedan hugged me even closer.

“He had a much better end than at Ostagar. I know he wouldn’t regret it – you have to stop blaming yourself.”

“I know, I just...”

“Just nothing.” I hadn’t noticed my husband come out of our tent while we’d talked.

Aedan vacated his spot in favour of sitting by Zev, and Alistair lifted me effortlessly onto his lap as he sat down. “I know no one else will be able to convince you, but personally, I’m quite sure Duncan is at the Maker’s side right now, pleased with how everything worked out, smiling down on all of us.”

Riordan’s voice joined the conversation from somewhere behind me. “I agree.” He stepped around Alistair and settled across from us. “Mourn him, grieve, miss him like I will, but don’t take the heroism out of how he died by taking credit for his choices.”

I flushed, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”

Alistair pulled me to him, and I turned my head and let a tear fall that I’d been holding in since the subject had changed. I felt ridiculous, but saw only honest concern when I glanced up at everyone watching me.

Riordan smiled. “No more apologies.”

I nodded, overcome by the support of everyone around me. I briefly wondered where I’d have been had I never come to Thedas, and the image of myself sitting alone in front of a computer screen rolled past. I put it out of my mind gladly. No time for that. I am not going back.

Just then, the others started filtering out of their tents, and we all got busy serving breakfast to those who hadn’t eaten yet. Leliana avoided eye contact, and somehow Wynne managed to emerge from Dougal’s tent without drawing a comment. Or everyone but me already knew, and no comment is needed... We knew a summons would be forthcoming for the pyres, and began getting ready as soon as everyone had eaten.

I wanted to talk to Leli – and Wynne, for that matter – but in the bustle, there was no opportunity. I resolved to find the both of them after the service. Instead, I quickly dressed in the set of armour not currently soaked in darkspawn blood before rejoining the group. Everyone, it seemed, had had a chance to get cleaned up; even Oghren had at least rinsed off the worst of the gore. It seemed his good hygiene had become a bit more voluntary – requiring a lot less drunken force-bathing – since visiting Felsi, and I smiled. Everyone’s armour had been cleaned and polished courtesy of some of Cailan’s servants, except those of us who wore leather; we wore our spare sets. At least for Leli and me, someone had come to take our dirty sets and see if they could be salvaged. We all wore our tabards, Wardens and companions alike, and it made me sad thinking of when Duncan had presented them to us back in Orzammar.

Bel returned my showerhead to me, and I tucked it into my bag before we left.

Once everyone was ready, we went together to Cailan’s command tent, where he was giving out instructions to the various battalion captains. We waited until he was done, and he turned to us finally, clasping forearms with most of our group in the strange handshake apparently common in Thedas, kissed hands of the few women ostentatiously, and then he accompanied us to where the pyres had been laid.

There were actually several pyres, and I didn’t even want to count them; each had dozens of bodies, covered in blankets, sheets, cloaks, or whatever other shroud could be scrounged up to serve. There was simply no way to have individual pyres for that number of people, and the bodies were too badly tainted to allow the families to claim them for private pyres. I felt sorry for the families left behind without so much as a chance to say goodbye.

There was a separate pyre for the handful of nobles who’d perished when the darkspawn ambushed our camp. I didn’t know any of them, fortunately, but that didn’t make it any less tragic.