Chapter 124: Ripples in Time

My reunion with Alistair was hampered by a massive bandage across his left shoulder. I found him sitting in a crowd of injured soldiers, patiently waiting his turn for Anders to take a look at him. His armour had been cut off, part of it dented; he’d need a new set eventually. Someone had wrapped a length of linen bandage around his upper arm and shoulder, and blood was slowly seeping through despite that.

I launched myself at him, slowing only slightly when I landed on my knees beside him so I didn’t jar his bad shoulder. I dropped my helmet beside him and wrapped my arms around his torso, pressing my nose into the crease in his neck opposite the bandages. I felt his fingers weave into my hair, holding me close, as he pressed kisses to the side of my head. Finally, cradled up to my husband’s chest, I let go and felt the tears rolling down my cheeks, soaking into his sweat-stained under-armour.

We held each other for a few moments, just revelling in the fact that we were both alive; finally I pushed away, cupping his face in my hands and kissing him softly.

“I love you, husband.”

“And I you, wife.” He untangled his hand from my hair and tried to settle me into his lap; he groaned softly as his injured shoulder protested.

“What happened here?” I pulled away from him and reached for the bandages; he slapped my hands away and tried to pull me closer again, ignoring the pain. “Maker, where’s Anders?” I turned to locate the healer, but Alistair clamped his hand over my mouth before I could call out.

“It’s fine. I lost my shield, and a hurlock got a lucky strike in. It will be fine. Anders has much worse to deal with first, love.”

I scowled at him; it wasn’t that I wanted Anders to stop dealing with life-threatening injuries, but Alistair couldn’t hide the pain in his eyes from me, and I hated seeing him like that. I wracked my brain for some reasonable excuse to have the healer see to him first, but was saved by Trevian.

“Commander? We need you over here.”

Anders nodded at the dwarf and immediately came over, tutting in frustration at the gash across his shoulder as he peeled back the bandages. I could barely look; instead I pressed my face up against his other arm and slipped my hand into his tightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Anders scolded Alistair. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, you great stubborn ox.”

Alistair snorted in amusement and I actually let out a half-hearted giggle as I felt the healing magic wash over him. When it was done, we both stood and Alistair wrapped both arms around me, kissing my forehead softly. “Talk later?” I nodded, somehow ashamed that he’d been able to sense my distress when he had other things he should be thinking about. He lifted my chin and rubbed my nose with his. I grinned reluctantly, and with one last squeeze, he went to talk to Trevian, Nathaniel, and Varel.

“Anders, need any help?”

I spent the next few hours scurrying around delivering healing potions, bandaging minor wounds that didn’t need magic to heal, and helping wounded soldiers back to the barracks. Solona was recruited to magically incinerate the darkspawn corpses; her skill with fire was only mediocre, so she was completely depleted by the time that was finished despite a couple of Lyrium potions. Exhausted, she finally went to bed.

Trevian, and a few other Legionnaires including Sigrun, used picks they produced from their belongings somewhere to dig trenches in the stone of the Deep Roads near the barrier door and then carefully buried the dwarves who’d died, also making a stone marker to honour Fargrim and the others who’d been lost beyond the door. They didn’t hold a funeral and declined Varel’s offer to include them in the ceremony that would eventually be held for the soldiers who had given their lives.

When Alistair was finished giving orders and talking to Nate, the last job that needed to be done was to carry the soldier’s bodies to the courtyard for funerals in the morning. Instead of helping, Alistair came over and scooped me into his arms, pulling me away from all of the death and horror of the battle. Initially I protested, between the embarrassment of being carried around, worry about his shoulder, and the desire to help, but Alistair ignored me and made his way carefully to our room. We had a long, hot bath together; I cried in his arms while he shuddered in mine. We made love slowly, and then collapsed together in bed to sleep.

The next day was difficult. Alistair made a speech about the sacrifices made by good men; I cried some more. And then pyres for the soldiers were lit; the dwarves excused themselves to their own drunken mourning, but the rest of us respectfully watched the pyres burn down.

Aedan returned halfway through the afternoon, horrified to learn what he had left for us when he went to Amaranthine, but relieved that we were alive. Leliana, who must have been even more worried than I had thought, went straight into Nathaniel’s arms for a very public kiss.

“What now?” Aedan finally asked, once the initial pleasantries had been finished and we’d been served dinner in the dining room. “Can they get through that door?”

I shook my head, just as Trevian entered, replying, “Not likely, Warden.” The Legion commander, smelling of ale but looking remarkably sober, exchanged respectful nods with Alistair and then turned his attention to my brother. “Orzammar’s been protected by one just like that for generations. They’d have to dig tons of rock to get around the mechanism – it’s sunk deep into the walls all the way around. They’ve never gotten through one before.”

“Wouldn’t hurt to set up some arcane traps down there as a warning, just in case,” Alistair replied. “I wonder if Anders knows how.”

“How did it go in Amaranthine?” I asked, changing the subject.

Aedan filled us in; he’d made contact with the city guard, cleared the smugglers out of the various dens and secret passages throughout Amaranthine, and then, with the aid of some of Dworkin’s explosives, collapsed the tunnels leading into the city so the Mother’s forces wouldn’t have easy access to the city later on.

Nathaniel sighed. “And Esmerelle really was working with them?”

Aedan nodded; Zevran handed over several sheets of parchment – detailing payments the smugglers had made to the local Bann – pilfered from the Bann’s own estate, evidently. Nate handed them to Varel, turning his attention back to Aedan.

“Did you speak with my sister?”

Aedan chuckled. “Yes. She still hasn’t forgiven me for that dress.” I giggled, and Nate grinned. “I don’t think she’ll be keen on it, but I’m sure you can convince her.”

I frowned. “Keen on what?”

Nathaniel replied, “Well, given Esmerelle’s illegal activities, and what you told me about her and the others forming a conspiracy to take over the Arling, I’ve been assuming I’ll need to replace her as Bann sooner rather than later. I’ve spoken to Fergus, and he agrees. I’ve been searching through my father’s papers and correspondence. So with this, I’ve assembled enough evidence; she’ll be arrested, and I plan to make Delilah the Bann of Amaranthine.”

“But isn’t she ... I mean, forgive me, but she married a commoner. She’s pregnant! What will happen to Albert?”

Nathaniel wrinkled his brow at me, puzzled. “What do you mean? He’ll be with her, of course. He can’t be Bann without a royal decree raising him to the nobility, but nothing can stop her from claiming her noble blood. Her children will inherit.”

“If I can be a Prince, she can be a Bann.” Alistair’s expression was sour as he spoke his title.

“I just...” I looked around at the men staring at me in varying degrees of bemusement and confusion. “Never mind.”

Nate finally took pity on me. “It’s not exactly standard, I’ll give you that. But they are legally married, and to be honest, his skills as a merchant will aid Delilah running the Arling. She’s a pushover. Couldn’t bargain for something to save her life. And she’s happy with him. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise that.

“Besides,” he glanced at Leliana and blushed, “he isn’t the only commoner married to a noble.”

The bard paled and looked away, expression tortured.

“Teagan’s proposed to Kaitlyn, then?” Alistair asked, and Leliana sent him a grateful smile as the conversation turned to the likelihood of a winter wedding, or whether the newly-raised Arl would wait for spring. I made a mental note to talk to Leliana about whatever that was, later.

The following day, the dwarves were still drunk; the soldiers began the difficult work of cleaning out the basement, including the tainted sections. Nate and Varel had gone down with them, though I warned them about the possibility of undead Avvar and demons. Nate asked Varel to write a letter to the Circle later requesting a mage knowledgeable about the undead and the Avvar to be sent to the Vigil – it would be a permanent position, if things worked out.

Conrad arrived back at the Vigil with Rolan, Bel, and Wulf; he had two elven women in tow, though he seemed to be ignoring them as he looked wildly around the courtyard at the Vigil. The horses were practically foaming, and Samuel complained bitterly under his breath as he took the reins of the exhausted beasts and led them away. We’d felt him coming after breakfast, and so Alistair, Zev, Aedan, and I were waiting for him when he arrived.

“I thought there would be darkspawn? We saw smoke!”

It took a few minutes to reassure the senior Warden and his group that we were safe, though he was saddened like the rest of us about the loss of life. He ruffled my hair with a grin when he learned about my part in the battle, and I swatted at him with an indignant squawk. Trust Conrad to lighten the mood. Convinced that everything was fine and the Vigil wasn’t under attack, Rolan, Bel, and Wulf greeted us and then excused themselves to unpack.

As we spoke, the two Dalish elves stood behind Conrad, one watching with interest, her sandy blond hair short and reminiscent of Leliana’s style, the other with impatience she didn’t even bother to conceal, reminding me strongly of Morrigan. She had her arms crossed over her chest, an enormous scowl on her otherwise pretty face marring the intricate tattoo that swirled over her chin and forehead. Both women had the same tattoos, and while I didn’t recognise the patterns, I did recognise the women.

The angry one was Velanna, and the other was her sister Seranni.

I turned away quickly before my gaping could give me away; I knew Velanna’s response to a ‘shem’ staring at her was likely to be swift and acerbic. In the game, you were never given much of a chance to talk to Seranni, though I recalled hearing she was nicer and more sociable than her sister; I still didn’t want to make a bad first impression. Alistair noted my reaction and raised an eyebrow at me; I shook my head slightly, schooled my expression, and looked back at the two as Conrad introduced them and launched into an explanation of why they were at the Vigil.