Chapter 187: The Great Unknown

Fergus handed a second slip of paper, one I hadn’t noticed, to Alistair. “Cailan sent you a letter too. He’s asked the two of you to return to Ferelden.”

I startled. “But ... I should be in Kirkwall. I’m the one who knows—” I interrupted myself, tripping over my own words in my panic. “What if—”

Fergus smiled at me, not unkindly. “Sierra, is there something you could do, right now, to change what happened? To influence the Chantry or change the outcome?”

I considered his question briefly, thoughts ricocheting around my mind like a giant pinball machine. “I ... no?” Dorothea, the new Grand Cleric of Ferelden, might like me, in theory, but I wasn’t going to be able to make her do anything – even if I could figure out what needed to be done, with everything I once knew now completely invalidated.

“So, with Cailan away, someone of the royal blood – someone in the line of succession – needs to be safe in Ferelden. We can’t afford another civil war if something were to happen.”

I gaped at Fergus, horror-struck. “I hadn’t even considered that!” I sat forward urgently. “He can’t be there – what was he thinking?” I jumped up to pace anxiously. “Cailan needs to get out of Kirkwall!” Alistair looked a little sick too, as we both contemplated the disaster that would strike if Cailan died.

Fergus frowned. “I agree, actually; sending troops is one thing, but going himself was foolhardy. If I can, I’ll get him headed home on the first ship I can find.” He sighed. “Highever can live without me for a while, and whatever Cailan needs done in Kirkwall, I can do.”

Fergus turned to look at Alistair seriously. “In the meantime, please, will you do as Cailan asked? Will you return to Ferelden, your Highness?”

Alistair reached out to me, and I dropped down beside him again, lacing our fingers together and squeezing. He examined Fergus’ face for a moment. “Do I need to be in Denerim?”

Fergus shook his head. “No, Soldier’s Peak is fine – but stay somewhere safe and accessible, would you? No trips into the Deep Roads or chasing after darkspawn. You’re the next in line for the throne, and if, Maker forbid, Ferelden needs you, you can’t be off dying in some tunnel somewhere.”

Alistair glanced at me and then back at Fergus. “I don’t want to be the King, you understand? You must get Cailan home safely.” His shoulders were stiff, but his face softened. “Get my brother home safely. The Theirins don’t have the best record with boat trips to the Free Marches.”

Fergus nodded, and I could see he meant it. Alistair looked at me with his eyebrows raised, and I flushed.

“Oh, of course we’re going back. I might not worry too much about defying Cailan when he’s being stupid, but it’s not like I do it just for spite. This is different.” Alistair chuckled, and even Fergus smirked a little. I wasn’t feeling very comical, though, and my mind was still racing. “How did this even happen? This wasn’t supposed to be how things went. Meredith was supposed to live for another five or six years! Elthina was supposed to stay in Kirkwall until ... well, for a long time. What did I do?” I sat back, considering everything I’d done since coming to Thedas, trying to figure out which ripple it was that had ended up with this situation. Have I done irreparable damage to Thedas? I wished I knew what thing it was that had set this off – not that I could undo what had already been done, of course.

Alistair continued looking at me, but his expression had turned to surprise. “I’d think you could guess what happened,” he murmured. When I didn’t look any less confused, he clarified, “Leliana happened. Or so I assume.”

My mouth dropped open as I considered his assumption. I’d told Dorothea and Leli as much as I could remember about Kirkwall and the events that would happen there – and they certainly had some motivation to stop what was going to happen before it ripped the Chantry apart. I couldn’t even blame them for wanting to change the future I’d seen, but would Leliana really do this? Murder a Knight-Commander and embarrass the Chantry? Surely there had to be other ways to remove a zealot from power that didn’t involve killing or humiliating the institution they claimed to believe in so strongly.

“Do you think?” I tried to picture Leliana, my perky, sweet best friend, or even the hardened woman I’d seen in the second Dragon Age game, doing such a thing – and the worst of it was, I could. I could see it. She would hate it and herself, but if she thought the outcome important enough – and if Dorothea commanded her to do it – she would.

I dropped my face into my shaking hands. “What have I done?”

Alistair pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arms around my upper body. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. First of all, it’s not your fault. If Leliana and the Chantry do something stupid because of the information you gave them, that’s on them, not you.” I sniffled doubtfully, and he rocked me gently. “And honestly, given what you’ve said about Meredith – I’m not convinced this was the worst idea. Not that I condone murder, but the Chantry needs a little shaking up. Maybe something like this will force them to stop and reconsider where they’re heading and who they have leading the way. A bit of embarrassment could actually go a long way. Maybe that terrible future you’ve seen – with a war between mages and templars – maybe that can be prevented, now.”

He kissed my temple, and I relaxed in his arms. I wasn’t certain that he was right; the tensions between mages and templars had been rising for a long time, and one zealot living or dying shouldn’t be enough to make the difference. And what if it did prevent a war? I knew only a little about the outcome of that war – enough to know preventing it was an honourable goal, and I’d been trying to push things in that direction since I’d arrived – but what if the alternative was no uprising, and mages just continuing to live like they had been, oppressed and abused? I’d never approved of Justice’s plan to blow up the Kirkwall Chantry, but what if he was right? What if a confrontation was necessary?

I couldn’t think about it anymore or I’d be the one exploding. My head was spinning and felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and my eyes were burning with unshed tears. Part of me still wanted to insist on going to Kirkwall to see what the outcome was going to be – to see who would take over, to see if the future could be put back on track the way I was familiar with, to see if I could find any hint of Leliana’s involvement – but I wasn’t going without Alistair, and I did understand why he needed to be back in Ferelden. And if he was right – if this unexpected event caused a correction that improved the future – did I really want to even try to fix it?

It was too late; I couldn’t change the past, even if it was my fault. I was going to have to live with whatever the future turned out to be.

“Okay.” I sat up, resolute. “I can’t change it. Fergus, you’re going to Kirkwall, and we’re going home.” I looked up at Alistair, who was watching me with a concerned expression. “So what do we do now?”

Fergus sighed. “Now I go back to the docks and find myself a ship to Kirkwall, and you two need to book passage back to Highever.”

In the end we didn’t go ourselves – Avanna, Charles, and one of Fergus’ guards went to the docks and spoke with the harbourmaster until they could find us ships. Fergus wouldn’t even be staying at the inn; he repacked his bags for an evening departure to Kirkwall. Alistair and I would have two days in Ostwick before we could leave for Ferelden.

Fergus leaving us was strangely emotional. Our relationship had improved, but still wasn’t exactly the norm for siblings – and was currently rather full of guilt and awkwardness and history that just wasn’t going to be easy to leave behind. I’d hoped to have more time to work on it – to get to know each other a little and make some memories not so steeped in resentment and anger – but apparently it wasn’t meant to be, at least for now. For all that history, though, I was curiously depressed about the separation.

Alistair and Fergus exchanged polite forearm-grasping things – the Thedosian equivalent to a handshake – and then Fergus turned to me with a rueful smile. “When I get back, maybe I could come visit Soldier’s Peak? I’ve still never even seen it.”

“I’d like that.” I smiled shyly, fighting the urge to pull away. My first instinct was to protect myself, but he really did seem to be trying. “Imagine how shocked Aedan would be.”

Fergus laughed, and I realised it was the first time I’d heard that sound. It was rich and hearty and contagious, and my smile widened involuntarily. “Indeed. And I wonder ... would you let me read that journal? The one m-my,” he swallowed loudly, “parents left for you?” I nodded. “I’ll send a raven when I’m back.” He held out his hand awkwardly, and I honestly wasn’t sure if he was expecting me to hug him, shake his hand, or wave. I don’t think he knows either. In the end I gripped his hand – not the way Alistair had, but more the way Aedan might squeeze my hand when he was trying to be comforting – and he squeezed back awkwardly before turning to leave. “Take care of yourself ... si-Sierra.” For a moment I wondered if he’d been about to say ‘sister’, and my stomach leaped a little inside my abdomen.

“You too.” I sighed. “Oh, Fergus?”

He turned and nodded.

“Do you remember Leliana? The redheaded archer we used to travel with?” He nodded again. “If you happen to run into her in Kirkwall, will you tell her...” I trailed off. What to say? “Tell her to come home. It’s time.”

He agreed, and with a slight wave, he was gone.

Alistair and I looked at each other once the door had swung shut behind him. “And so we’re alone.”

I looked at Avanna and Charles, sitting at the table behind us, and huffed.

“More or less,” he amended. “Which is still weird.”

I couldn’t agree more; I didn’t think I’d ever get used to people following me wherever I went, but we hadn’t been this close to alone in ... ever, really. “I can’t wait to get home.”

“That eager for the snow and the cold, then?” he teased.

I chuckled. “Well, maybe not that. But I miss our bed and our friends and having a routine. I just want things to be ... normal, for a while.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t his carefree, mirthful laugh; it had an edge of bitterness or even hysteria to it. “Normal? What’s that?”

Our one, full, free day in Ostwick passed uneventfully; we walked around a little, but the city wasn’t much different than any other city in the Free Marches – lots of white stone, and a depressing disparity between the rich and the poor that grated on my nerves. We went back to the inn early and played a few card games – I suckered Avanna into playing with us, and then lost all the coppers I’d bet against her – before going to bed early. We had passage booked for us and our seven guards, on a ship leaving shortly after noon. I couldn’t wait.

The trip was also uneventful; we were the only passengers, and had been given the captain’s quarters – I guessed Avanna had something to do with that, but didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. It still wasn’t a huge space, but it was comfortable and only for a few days anyway. It was cold on deck, so we mostly stayed inside, entertaining ourselves however we could think of ... the usual way, mostly.

In that regard, I’d definitely noticed a difference in Alistair since I’d thrown out the contraceptive powder; he was always sweet and attentive and willing, but now he became much more assertive. For once it was him initiating sex more often than me, as though he honestly couldn’t get enough. It was like those first few, heady weeks we’d spent together – I’d find myself woken in the night to make love, dragged back into bed for seconds after morning sex...

It was glorious. And it wasn’t even all about trying to conceive; we couldn’t keep our hands and mouths off each other either. I’d never felt so sexy – or been so chafed, which became a topic of much hilarity between us.