Chapter 118: 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.